MAKE UP YOUR MIND

Chapter Two

Trigger warning: Anxiety panic attacks.

When Harry opened his eyes it took him a couple of seconds to remember where he was. Carefully he rose from the bed and started making his way to the door. Twisting the knob and opening the door, he was immediately assaulted by the loud noise only the Burrow full of people could produce. Harry quickly closed the door and leaned his forehead against it, grateful to whoever had the foresight to put a silencing charm on his room. He turned and slowly slid to the floor and gathered his knees to his chest- he loved the Weasleys, he honestly did but he wasn't at all sure he was ready for this. He took a couple of calming deep breaths, knowing that he had to get down there some time and there really was no point in delaying the inevitable. Besides, how the hell did he plan to attend his final year in Hogwarts if he couldn't even handle one breakfast with the Weasleys?

It would be OK, everything would be alright, Harry tried to convince himself as hard as he could. He was free, there was no more Dark Lord and no more prophecy hanging over his head and he was free to live just like any normal teenager would- he had his friends, he was going back to Hogwarts to finish his schooling, he had a girlfriend for Merlin's sake! He was bloody normal!

With that in mind Harry rose to his feet and faced the door again. It was a simple matter of turning the knob and opening the door. Well, that was step one, the easy part. Step two was going to face the world outside his room. The Weasleys were the least of his problems- everyone who really bothered to get to know him knew he hated publicity and the last thing he needed right now was hero worship, but Harry knew he couldn't hide in The Burrow forever and expect the world to forget about him. It was a nice thought though.

As soon as he set foot in the kitchen Harry was assaulted by loud greetings, hugs and friendly slaps on the back. It seemed that the Weasleys preferred method of celebrating the end of the war was here, at home, together, and loudly, enforcing Harry's suspicion that last night absences were Molly's doing. Harry tried to smile while battling a panic attack- he wasn't used to so many of them, usually it was only the twins, Ron and Ginny. In fact he couldn't remember ever having all seven of them together, plus Bill's wife, Fleur. After the initial round of hugs most of the boys went to the fireplace to get on with their day- and Harry realized he'd been quite late for breakfast, while Molly practically forced Harry into a nearby chair.

"Harry, sweetie, how are you? Are you hungry? You're so skinny. Sit down; I'll make you something to eat." Molly said, all in one breath and didn't even wait for an answer. Harry tried to protest feebly but he knew it was futile, so he obediently sat at the table and smiled at his adoptive mother. Fred and George Weasley, who lingered behind for just this opportunity, took chairs on either side of Harry's.

"Well, well, if it isn't the hero in the flesh!" Said Fred gaily, nearly blinding Harry with his smile,

"How about a few words for your adoring fans?" George asked from his other side and when Harry turned his head he was met with a wooden spoon thrust at him like a microphone. Harry's first reaction was slight panic, but it was soon squashed in favor of giggles- these were Fred and George Weasley after all.

"Boys!" Molly cried sharply, waving her own wooden spoon at her twin sons, "You two leave poor Harry be and off you go!" Fred and George immediately wore their 'we're completely innocent, mum' faces on, though it no longer had the desired effect on their mother,

"We're just prepping him for what's to come!" George insisted,

"Yeah, those vultures from the press are not going to be as nice." Harry smiled softly; it was nice of the twins to think of him, even if they mostly wanted to annoy their mother. Before Molly could give them a piece of her mind in the matter Ginny waltzed into the kitchen, dressed to nines and looking like she was ready to take the town by storm.

"Harry!" She cried when she spotted her boyfriend sitting at the table. Sauntering towards him she gave him a soft kiss on the cheek, mindful not to ruin her hair or makeup. Her brothers gave her identical glares of revulsion and promptly left the kitchen. "I'm so glad you're finally awake, sweetie."

"You look good." Harry stated and Ginny beamed at him, turning her head so that Harry would get the full effect of her look. Before Harry could open his mouth to say anything else Ginny jumped to her feet in a hurry,

"Shoot, I have to dash darling; I'm giving an interview in ten. I'll see you later, yeah?" Harry had just enough time to give her half a nod before she was gone. He caught Molly's less than approving glare at her daughter's back before the Weasley matriarch turned back to the pot she was stirring. Harry looked down at his sandwich, he could do this, he really could.

That resolution lasted less than a week. By the fifth day under the Weasley roof Harry was just about ready to grab his wand and hex the lot of them. The constant noise was getting to him in ways he never thought would, and the lack of privacy! It was impossible to find more than three minutes of solitude before someone found him, even the bathroom wasn't safe! Actually, the bathroom was probably the least private place in the house because even when he went there to pee he couldn't get more than a minute's peace before someone knocked on the door demanding their turn. The house was packed with people day and night, and though he really missed her, Harry was glad at least Hermione wasn't there to add to the numbers. She did send him a muggle letter from Australia, complete with pictures of her and her parents traveling throughout the southern continent. Harry had to admit he was dead jealous of her, it was so tempting to just leave this wretched island and go someplace where no one heard of him or cared who he was.

To add insult to injury, his and Ron's relationship never seemed to get back to normal. Ron was still resenting him for reasons Harry didn't even know and Ron refused to divulge. Harry was so tired of playing the guilt game with Ron that he simply didn't bother anymore and that, of course, resulted in more resentment from Ron. So after five days of living in the Burrow and having to suffer Ron's passive-aggressive attitude, Molly's overbearing cuddling and Ginny's huger for fame Harry has had enough.

He contemplated going to Grimauld Place and spend the rest of his summer there, but the mere thought was making him sad, living all alone in that dreadful house with no one to talk to but Kreacher, hell it was so depressing Harry seriously preferred to take a wand to his own person than move there.

His salvation came two days later in a form of a letter from Remus Lupin, asking if Harry wanted to come and spend a few days with him and Tonks. It was true Remus had told him he was welcome any time but Harry didn't want to impose himself on Remus and Tonks, but since he got an official invite, Harry saw no reason to decline. He was so relieved and elated that he packed all his belongings in less than five minutes and rushed downstairs to the fireplace. It was only Molly's quick instincts that made her rush from the kitchen and catch Harry for a quick hug goodbye. The Weasley matriarch had tears in her eyes that made Harry feel guilty for leaving like that but she smiled in understanding and sent him away with an encouraging hug and a box of cookies.

Life with Remus and Tonks was as different as could be from living with the Weasleys. first of all, there were only two other people in the house, and most of the time they were out- Tonks, being an Auror had her hands full with the after-war clean up of rogue Death Eaters and Remus was busy doing all sorts of things, most of which Harry didn't even know about. The house they lived in was a small cottage, but it was bright and airy and very well lit and it made Harry feel safe. He spent most of his days either in the living room reading through the massive library, or outside in the garden, bringing new life to the neglected vegetable patch.

He discovered that while the Dursley's did their best to squash any sense of fun from any chore they set him he actually enjoyed gardening. It was not only the hard labour that was making him happy, the feel that his muscles were being worked to their fullest but also the fact that he could see the change in the garden almost daily and it was making him so happy to know it was him who was responsible for it. The first head of lettuce he cropped made him so damn proud he was pretty sure he was going to burst with it, and he couldn't stop smiling throughout lunch as they ate it.

Without even realizing it his birthday was creeping up. Harry was pretty sure he wouldn't have remembered it at all if it wasn't for Remus and Tonks showing up one afternoon in his room looking determined,

"Harry, we've been thinking and we were wondering…" Remus began in his soft, calming voice, knowing Harry was not going to like what he had to say but prattling bravely forward nonetheless, "Perhaps it would be a good idea to head out to town, just to get a few things!" He finished hurriedly when he caught the expression on Harry's face.

"What sort of things?" Harry asked slowly, he knew they were not talking grocery shopping, there really was no point in dragging him along for that, and it was way too early to get his school stuff- plus Remus said he'd take care of that, as he was going back to teach in Hogwarts and would need to stock up himself. But he could still feel the age old panic rising, something he hasn't felt since he moved here.

"Well, your birthday is coming up and frankly, we feel it's about bloody time you got a new wardrobe." Tonks said bluntly, leaning against the wall with a bored expression, "You're turning 18 and you're dead fit, there's no point in dressing like a homeless man!" Harry felt his cheeks warming up, he wasn't sure it was from Tonks' compliment or the fact that she was right and his wardrobe hasn't really changed since he was eleven. Though truth be told, he was finally starting to fill up Dudley's old cast offs.

"Tonks!" Remus hissed, "We said we were going to be diplomatic about it!" Tonks rolled her eyes,

"Diplomatic is boring, we need to shock him into action otherwise we'd never leave the house." She hissed back and this time it was Harry's turn to roll his eyes,

"You guys are so subtle," He intoned gravely, "I almost couldn't tell you were talking about me." He got an exasperated sigh from Remus and a bright laugh from Tonks for that. Taking a deep breath Harry decided there was nothing for it. Hiding was not an option anymore. Besides, he was a bloody Gryffindor! He was known for his bravery, and now after everything he went through, he shouldn't be the one hiding! Licking his lips and taking a deep breath he tried to smile bravely at the two, "Alright, let's go!" That earned him a big whoop from Tonks who promptly grabbed his arm, and started dragging him to the door.

The three apparated from the living room and landed in a small alleyway which led to one of London's biggest shopping malls. Harry tried to calm himself with deep breaths, as he walked bravely forward. So far no one seemed to know who he was, in fact, no one seemed to notice they even existed, which in itself was a little disconcerting because you'd expect people to at least see the three of them stepping out of an unused alley doing their best to look casual. Harry followed Tonks as she practically skipped her way towards the nearest menswear shop. He suddenly felt Remus' hand resting on his shoulder, squeezing lightly and Harry felt his body relaxing almost against his will.

The three of them entered the shop and Tonks immediately dragged them over to where the jeans were. Harry looked at the display and felt the overwhelming urge to sit down and cry- how the hell did people buy clothes? There were just so many to chose from, how the hell did he know if he liked low waist jeans, or skinny ones? He never shopped for clothes in his life! The only thing he ever shopped for was school robes, but that was easy, there wasn't much of a choice in the matter, but now... Now he had virtually the whole world spread at the tips of his fingers and he had absolutely no idea what he wanted or needed.

Luckily for him, Remus and Tonks easily took over and spread out to pull all sorts of jeans from the display and fling them at poor Harry, who was just standing in the middle with a growing pile of trousers in his hands and with no clear idea of what to do with them. Eventually it was Tonks who took pity of the poor guy and ushered him towards the nearest changing stall.

For the next hour or so Harry was forced the try on different clothes, jeans, cargo pants, dress pants, T-shirts, dress shirts, vests and anything Tonks and Remus found remotely usable, and a few things Harry sincerely hoped they were joking about. At some point Harry seemed to have lost all sense of what was going on around him and just entered into a robotic sort of mood and didn't even protest anymore about what he was brought to try on. Eventually the torture came to an end and Tonks presented him with a huge pile of clothes that were chosen as his new wardrobe. To be honest, Harry was pretty shocked- he didn't know people could own so many clothes, no, he didn't know why people needed to own so many clothes!

He was very touched that Tonks and Remus wanted to pay for that huge pile of fabric but he couldn't really let them do that for him. After all, he did have more money than the two of them combined. After an argument that lasted no less than ten minutes they finally agreed to split the check. When they finally left the shop, each of them was carrying no less than five bags, they each went to the toilet discreetly to shrink them. Harry was more than ready to head back home and take a long hot shower and go to bed, this had been exhausting! Tonks and Remus were looking like a couple of kids in a sweets factory, practically skipping around and talking enthusiastically about their purchases and Harry wondered if he'd have to stage a tantrum so that they could finally go home, especially when he heard the word 'shoes' being mentioned.

Before he managed to say anything a high pitched scream sounded to his right, Harry whipped his head around, his hand going to his wand immediately, to try and locate the source of the noise, but was instantly surrounded by a hoard of screaming people who seemed to have popped out of nowhere. Harry's hand dropped from his wand and his whole body froze. Tonks and Remus, who were walking ahead turned to find their charge in the middle of sea of shiny eyed, smiling, loud fan-girls and fan-boys. They exchanged a quick look before Tonks jumped into the mass of bodies, flashing her Auror badge at the assembled fans, trying to keep them at least a foot away from Harry. Remus also pushed his way into the tight circle who was growing by the second, both by new fans joining and curious passers-by who wanted to know what the mayhem was all about. He grabbed Harry's shoulder and peered down the teen's face. Harry's skin was so white it was almost grey, his eyes were glassy and his breathing was shallow, while his entire body was frozen up. Remus cursed under his breath, shit! This was exactly what Harry feared the most, and it was his, Remus' job to make sure something like this didn't happen. He hugged Harry more firmly and managed to catch Tonks and whisper to her where he was taking Harry. Just as he closed his eyes and concentrated on his destination he felt Harry's body going limp in his arms.

Harry was floating back to consciousness, he knew he was lying down in a bed, and by the fact that everything was quiet around him he guessed he no longer was at that hellish mall, but still he didn't want to open his eyes. Opening his eyes meant he'd have to admit to himself and everyone that he failed. He couldn't possibly survive in the outside world like this. He couldn't bloody well attend Hogwarts this way, not if he froze up and fainted like a fucking opossum every time someone came too close to him. Harry sighed softly when the realization hit, he was going to have to relocate to Grimauld Place, and spend the rest of his life alone. He could vividly picture it, roaming the empty halls, with only a bitter and racist house elf and an even more bitter and a much more racist portrait to talk to. Maybe he should just kill himself and then come back as a ghost, at least then he'd have a proper excuse for the roaming. He could get chains, and rattle them around, that could be fun, or maybe some...

"Harry." Harry shook his head, refusing to open his eyes and acknowledge the outside world. No, he was just going to stay like this, immersed in his misery and everyone else can just fuck the hell off! "Harry!" The voice was more persistent this time and eventually Harry had no choice but to open his eyes and turn his head to look at Healer Matthews, who was sitting next to his bed. "Harry, what happened?"

Harry turned his head away from her, letting the air out of his lungs. What the hell happened back there? He didn't know if he could find the right words and he really hated to hash up the incident, not only was it one of the single most humiliating things to happen to him, but it was also his weakest moment and he hated himself for that. Slowly he rose from the pristine white bed, and walked to the window. He stood there, looking out at the magnificent view of green pastors and beautiful meadows- of course it was a charmed window, nothing as boring as brick buildings and smog for the magical folk.

"Harry." His healer said again, her voice gentle. She didn't want to pressure her charge into saying anything but at the same time, she needed answers, she needed to figure out how to go from here and the only one who could provide her with those answers was the young man by the window. "Please tell me what happened."

"People," Harry whispered as he pressed his forehead to the cool glass, "So many people..."

"What did those people want?" She asked, her voice still gentle. Harry didn't even turn his head, but he could hear the quick-quote quill scratching near the healer.

"To touch me." He answered simply,

"And how did it make you feel?" Harry frowned, not sure how to put the exact feeling of bone deep fear into words,

"I don't know, scared... overwhelmed..." He said softly, knowing he was not giving his healer much to work with but all he really wanted was to be left alone to wallow in his misery and stop answering questions he didn't want to answer and talk about things he didn't want to talk about.

"Why was that?"

"It's him!" Harry said gruffly, spitting the word out with venom, "They want him, not me, they want to worship him!" The healer looked up puzzled, Harry's face were contorted in a grimace of hate, but his words made no sense,

"Who exactly?" Harry turned around and fixed her with a glare, why the hell did he have to explain himself? Was it not obvious who he was talking about?

"Him, the Boy Who Lived, the bloody Saviour, they want to worship him!" He snapped, his voice strained and his whole body rigid. He hated that, he hated that so much!

"You are the Saviour, Harry. You know that." Healer Matthews was a little perplexed by this- magical folk were not in the habit of talking to their patients about their feelings, they were far more used to treat their ailments with potions and spells, not delve into the depth of the human mind. This was something that was quickly changing as Healers have started to realize that treating the symptoms, especially of people dealing with psychological issues, didn't exactly solve the problem.

"I just want to be me!" Harry said, his voice cracking, as he looked at his healer with pleading eyes- please, oh gods, please make this stop, please make it better! Healer Matthews took a deep breath and nodded, gesturing for Harry to sit. He carefully sat on the bed, looking like a kicked puppy,

"Harry, I believe that you are suffering from what we call 'After War Anxiety Malady'. Unfortunately it's a pretty common illness these days. A lot of people who fought in the war seem to attract it and I promise you that we will do our best to make sure you get through this in one piece." She patted his knee encouragingly, and smiled, though Harry didn't share her smile. Instead he gave her a puzzled look,

"After War Anxiety Malady?" He repeated slowly, really? Was that really her diagnosis? "Is that like post trauma?" His healer thought about it for a brief moment before she smiled,

"Yes, exactly, that's what the muggles are calling it- Post Traumatic Stress Disorder." She declared happily and Harry forced a weak smile at her. Healer Matthews rose from her seat and canceled the charm on her quill before she gave Harry a bright smile.

"I'm glad we had this talk." She said, "I'll come by tomorrow and we'll discuss your treatment options." Harry nodded feebly and the woman left his room, closing the door behind her. Harry slumped back on the bed and sighed. This was not going to end well! He dreaded to think what sort of treatment options his healer was going to come up with- did they do electro-shock therapy in the magical world? Probably not, they must have a spell for that, something that was probably so dark he was in danger of losing all his memories, or even his life! Harry swallowed hard, trying to decide if he should escape the hospital and find refuge in Grimauld Place. After the initial panic subsided he decided he'd hear his options first, after all- he was legally an adult, so they couldn't really force him into anything, right?

As it turned out, what his healer had in mind was far more simple than anything Harry's fevered mind could come up with, and proved Dean's point- potions. They wanted to give him a bunch of potions to take away the anxiety and make him happier. Harry wasn't too sure he liked that course of action, his experience with potions wasn't the best thus far- sure they worked but they tasted like shit and he really didn't feel like starting to chug them down by the cauldron-full on a regular basis.

He was sitting on his bed, his knees pulled to his chest and his chin resting on them, feeling sorry for himself. Why was this happening to him? Hasn't he suffered enough? All he wanted was to be normal, to be like everybody else, and for a few glorious moments after waking up every morning he managed to convince himself that he was. He was just Harry, a normal eighteen years old bloke who was going to finish his schooling and start his life, just like everyone else. He should have been worried about career choices, debating whether or not he wanted to be an Auror or a Healer or a bloody Professional Quidditch player, not have a frigging panic attack every time anyone even mentioned the word 'People', or worse 'Fans'.

"Wow, you just can't seem to get enough of this place, huh?" Harry lifted his head quickly, a smile blossoming on his face as Seamus strutted into the room, shaking his head with mock sadness,

"What are you doing here?" Seamus sat comfortably on the bed, facing his friend, while Harry's body subconsciously relaxed and he spread his legs towards him,

"Well, I came by your place to celebrate your birthday and Professor Lupin told me you're back in here. I come bearing cake," He said and produced a small box from his pocket and enlarged it to reveal a creamy chocolate cake inside, "And booze, but the medi-staff confiscated it..." He added sadly while Harry was chuckling.

"You remembered my birthday..." Harry smiled softly, so far no one seemed to remember his birthday, which was a little hurtful- no, it hurt like hell, they were supposed to be his friends!

"Of course I did, it's practically a national holiday." Seamus said flippantly but quickly changed the subject when he saw the way Harry's eyes widened in fear, "So, what are you in here for this time?" Harry let out a long suffering breath and threw himself back on his pillows,

"I... I sort of had a meltdown," He said, his voice a little embarrassed, "It was quite public..." A grin erupted on Seamus' face,

"Really? Was it a proper one? Did you throw stuff and hexed people?" He asked eagerly and Harry shook his head,

"No... I just sort of froze, and fainted..." Seamus cringed in sympathy, man that was no way to handle a meltdown...

"And what are the healers saying?" Seamus' asked as he placed his hand on Harry's, trying to comfort the other teen, knowing that Harry was feeling far more embarrassed than he should, after all- it wasn't really Harry's fault.

"My healer thinks I have After War Anxiety Malady..." Seamus rolled his eyes at that,

"Yeah, figures." When Harry gave his a puzzled look he elaborated, "Come on Harry, everyone gets diagnosed with that now days! Oh, you broke your leg? Must be your AWAM acting up... splinched yourself in half, sadly, it must be the AWAM who caused that... Seriously, they're like a toddler who learned a new word!" He scoffed, those bloody healers... Harry chuckled softly, feeling instantly better knowing he wasn't the only one who thought this was ridiculous. "So, what is their brilliant solution to your problem?" Harry shrugged,

"They want to give me some cheering and anti-anxiety potions." He said, rolling his eyes, but instead of Seamus going into another rant about magical folk and their tendency to heal everything with potions, the Irish teen looked thoughtful, "What, aren't you going to say how daft that is?"

"Actually," Seamus began slowly, "It's not such a bad idea." Harry was completely flabbergasted by that,

"But, you're the one who said that not everything could be cured with potions, you and Dean, what the hell happened to that?" That was hypocrisy, that was!

"The truth is, if you were in a muggle hospital, most chances you'd be given meds as well." Seamus said calmly, smiling sadly at Harry, "I don't think potions are bad as a whole, I just don't think they should be viewed as the solution to everything, but in your case- why not?"

"I don't want to be medicated to my eyeballs just to be able to pass a day without freaking out, this is ridiculous!" Harry scoffed and crossed his arms over his chest. Seamus looked at his friend, he knew how stubborn Harry could be when he wanted, and he knew it wouldn't be easy to convince him, but when it came down to it, the alternative was much worse and was proven quite grandly by the little 'meltdown' Harry suffered. Besides, knowing Harry Seamus was pretty sure his friend's brilliant solution to his problem involved isolating himself from the rest of the world and spiraling into depression and despair, and that was really unacceptable!

"Listen, I'm going to tell you something that not a lot of people know about me," He said softly, "I'm taking potions, every day." Harry looked up startled,

"What? What sort of potions? Are you ill?" Seamus shook his head, smiling at Harry's reaction,

"Nope, just a little hyper. I've been taking the magical equivalent of Ritalin since I was eight. It helps me sort through the thoughts in my head and concentrate on schoolwork. Trust me, it would have been a lot worse if I didn't. Don't look at it as a failure, this is just help. It'll make you feel more relaxed and you could actually do things you want to do instead of freaking out, or in my case, going mental because you can't figure out where to start." Harry smiled softly, wow, if Seamus was on a bunch of concentration potions every day...

"Now I kinda want to know what you're like without your potions." Harry said with a small wink and Seamus rolled his eyes,

"Trust me, it's not pretty." Seamus shook his head in mock sadness. "But really, what the potions will do is just take the crippling fear away, so that you can feel like yourself again. It's worth a shot if you ask me, after all, what's your alternative?" Harry shrugged,

"Going to Grimauld Place and turn into a ghost." For a second Seamus wasn't sure if Harry was joking or not so he decided to fix his friend with a glare, just in case,

"Great, so basically you want to throw your life away, and to think you fought so hard to be free so you'd be able to do whatever it was you wanted. That's... very smart." Harry sighed, folding his legs to his chest again, and curling into a ball. He knew Seamus was right, and he knew he was acting like a petulant child but it was still hard to come to terms with the fact that he'd have to take potions on a daily basis. All his life he'd been told by his relatives that only weak and crazy people sought the help of drugs and medications. And now he was going to be one of those people, one of those weak, feeble minded folk who couldn't help themselves.

"I just..." He started softly, "I just... I feel like this is something I should be able to fight on my own, it's just..."

"Acute anxiety." Seamus supplied helpfully and Harry threw him a dirty look, "Harry, this sort of thing will not go away without help. People are not going to stop being interested in every move you make, and if they can't get the real you to talk to them they'll eat up whatever the magical media will see fit to say about you." Harry cringed at his words, gods, this was going to be so much worse than he initially thought. "Look, here's the deal, you've been given another year to prepare yourself, because I guarantee you Headmistress McGonagall isn't going to let any of those pesky reporters into her school, no matter what, so you can take this opportunity and make the most of it- take your potions and learn to deal with this forced fame or you can run away and just throw away your life now. So what will it be?" Seamus fixed his friend with a no nonsense sort of glare, which unfortunately went unnoticed as Harry still refused to look up from his knees,

"I don't know..." He muttered softly, and Seamus rolled his eyes,

"Harry!" He snapped, causing the other teen to finally snap out of his stupor and look up, and seeing the seriousness in his friend's eyes and sighed,

"Fine! I'll think about it." He finally conceded and Seamus gave him a bright smile, knowing this was the most he was likely to get right now,

"Good, now let's go up to the roof and have some cake!" He declared happily, and rose from the bed, collecting his cake and waiting for Harry to unfold himself and get up from the bed as well. The two teens made their way down the hall, tracking the now familiar way towards the roof,

"So, anything interesting happened while I was stuck here this time?" Harry asked, mostly to try and get Seamus' mind off the fact that he didn't really agree not to go to Grimauld Place and give up his life entirely. Seamus cast a side-glance at his mate and a devilish smile crossed his face,

"Oh, Merlin! You have no idea!" He gushed out, causing Harry to smile, "The Hero had a complete meltdown, in the middle of a shopping center, it was epic!" Harry bit his lip, trying to hold back a smile, because he just knew that the way Seamus was going to describe it was so much better then what really happened, "He was standing next to a fruit stand, and let me tell you... what a mess! There was this one guy who was carted off to St. Mungo's after he got hit by a viciously sharp slice of mango, another got some pretty serious berry bruises, and don't even get me started on the pineapples!" Seamus rolled his eyes impressively, smiling wide as Harry's genuinely happy laughter echoed through the corridor.

~~o0o o0o o0o~~

A/N: It seems to me that a self defense against fruit class would not go amiss.

After the harrowing clothes shopping Tonks took pity on Harry and introduced him to the joys of online shopping, so the boy did not remain shoe-less.

I am not an expert on mental health, and clearly no one else in this story is. Obviously Harry should be getting some therapy as well as potions but it is not really an option at the moment.