Author's Note: Hello, here's the next chapter. It's a bit different. Thank you all for reading and reviewing, MNF

Chapter 10:

Choices

Saturday, 15 July 1995

Outside the Office of Doctor Phillip Ostrofsky, ClinPsyD

Saturday mornings were now reserved for therapy, and Harry Potter had found he looked forward to the hour he spent with his therapist, Phillip Ostrofsky, ClinPsyD. At first, they'd met at a nondescript office in town, but Harry had found Dr Phillip's small office uncomfortable to be in. It had a sloping roofline, and Harry hated sitting beneath it. The second week of therapy, Harry had unloaded about the cupboard under the stairs, the following week, Dr Phillip had suggested they walk and talk, and it was far easier for Harry. Today was warm, but it was pleasant to be outside where there was enough breeze to blow the heat away.

Dr Phillip, he never wanted to be referred to by his last name, was a tall man, probably over six feet and had dirty blonde hair he wore in a long ponytail. He had green eyes and wore wire-rimmed glasses, but his face was sort of puggy, and when he smiled, it felt warm and inviting. Harry liked that he dressed in jeans and plaid button-down shirts and always wore his Birkenstock sandals. He had an easy-going style, didn't push Harry on things he wasn't ready to talk about and just urged Harry to tell his story and know that he, Dr Phillip, was listening and wouldn't judge the boy.

Harry had dressed similarly to his therapist in neat navy-blue shorts, a grey tee-shirt with a short sleeve madras plaid button down over it and one of his pairs of new trainers. However, Harry was without his eyeglasses, as he'd been fitted for contact lenses last Saturday after therapy. While Harry had always said he liked his glasses because they were like his dad's, he was overjoyed to be without them.

For his part, Phillip Ostrofsky liked Harry and wanted the best for him. He knew Harry's story, or at least what the public line had always been; finding out the truth had affected him deeply. No child, let alone one who had played such a vital role in ending a war, should live as Harry had.

Phillip had grown up in the magical world, but when he'd gone to Hogwarts, he was a mediocre student, not strong enough for him to consider working on a mastery in anything. He didn't want to take a low-level job at the Ministry, so he chose to go to Muggle Uni and study psychology which led him to where he was now. He treated Muggles and magicals in a comparable way: talk therapy with some behaviour modification exercises where needed. He worked with a physician to prescribe medications if needed. Like many of his contemporaries, he didn't think everyone needed to be on anti-depressants. He worked with a healer if medical grade potions were required. The loss of his wand was a blip in his life as he rarely used it before the Wand Out, and then it was mostly to summon things as he was too lazy to get up and retrieve them himself. Harry had not confessed his part in the catastrophe and was unsure if he ever would.

"So, Harry, how have you been this week?" the doctor asked Harry as they walked along the narrow path near the Sallow Head Spring.

"It was busy," Harry confessed. "Sirius, Dad," he said the second softer and then scrunched his lips together, "he inherited a big house, and we moved in. Then we invited some of our friends to come there too. It's a Muggle place, so we have electricity and air conditioning and a pool that's inside a glass dome. It's a pretty cool home."

"Sounds like it is," Dr Phillip remarked. "Maybe I can come for a swim? My partner and I belong to the local swim club, but on Saturday afternoons, it's teeming with small children who splash a great deal. It isn't a relaxing experience."

"Sounds like you're more of a floating on a raft and catching the sun sort of swimmer?" Harry asked, thinking of Susan and Hermione and their 'swimming.'

"Even better if it involves a glass of wine," the doctor added, and Harry laughed.

"Ah, the girls prefer a glass of Squash or a Butterbeer."

"So, there are girls living with you?" Phillip said with interest.

"Only one my age," Harry confessed. "Sirius invited Amelia Bones and her niece to move in. I get the feeling that Sirius and Amy, as he calls her, were something before he went to Azkaban, but he hasn't really talked about it, and I'm not going to press the issue. If I go digging into his love life, he has the right to dig in mine; when I have one, that is. The only other girl is Hermione, she's come to stay for a few weeks. She loves the library."

"From what you've told me of her, that makes sense. Anyone else?"

"My friend Neville, who it turns out I'm related to in like three complex ways because all of the old families have been intra-marrying for generations. Anyway, Sirius's great-aunt is Neville's grandfather's mother. So, through the adoption, Neville is my something cousin. He and his gran were struggling at their home, so Sirius asked them to move in, and it's good. I like having Neville around, and we've been working on cleaning out some of the gardens and the greenhouses. He's only been there for two days, but it's great to have him around. Then Sirius also invited two of the professors from my school to come to live with us when he learned they really didn't have places of their own. They usually spend the summers at Hogwarts."

"What's that like, living with your professors?" Phillip asked, and Harry took a while to answer.

"Our old Defence Professor, Moony, sorry, Remus Lupin, has always lived with us, and he was like an honorary uncle when I was born, so that wasn't too bad," Harry confessed. "But as much as I like Professors McGonagall and Flitwick, I sort of feel like I'm back at school sometimes. But, then again, we might not have school come autumn."

"Why not?" Phillip said with concern; Hogwarts was his alma mater.

"There are money issues. I can't get into too much of what I know because I'm sure I know more than any student should, but they were discussing it at dinner last night." Harry picked up a small flat stone and skipped it across the water. Phillip had noticed that Harry did something with his hands when what he was about to share bothered him deeply. "It appears that Dumbledore took money from the school's emergency reserves, but what he did with it is a mystery. Plus, Dumbledore is a hero to many folks, and as Sirius, er, Dad, says, 'it isn't the time to destroy an icon of wizarding society.' He doesn't like Dumbledore much, but... I digress. The money is missing, and the goblins are investigating since the DMLE isn't in the best of shape right now. Amy is attempting to lure Sirius back to work, but I doubt he's going to go."

"How would you feel if the school couldn't open up again come autumn?"

"I feel oddly okay with the idea," Harry professed. "When I was there, I felt like I was on display. If Hogwarts wasn't open, I'd have the chance to make a different choice. My choice."

"What would you choose, Harry?" The question was the obvious follow up, but Harry thought for a few moments before answering.

"Well, I could hire tutors," Harry began. "If I don't have a wand, I can't do any spell work, so I would concentrate on more theoretical learning; arithmancy, runes, defensive theory, history, the law – I can take my seat in the Wizengamot when I turn fifteen this year – potions and maybe healing. Between Sirius and me, we don't ever have to worry about the cost of my education. We briefly talked about my going somewhere that hasn't lost their wands, like Australia or Canada, but I'd like to stay in the UK, I think. I want to spend time with Sirius."

"I notice you're still calling him by his first name." Phillip and Harry had talked about this before, and Phillip was aware that Harry was struggling with what to call his adoptive father. This time Harry picked a wild daisy growing by the path and began picking the petals off.

"Yeah, sometimes I call him Padfoot, but that's a nickname anyone could use, you know. I just can't seem to use Dad because I had a dad, and Remus showed me a memory of calling my birth father 'daddy', and I don't want to disrespect James Potter." The emotion in Harry's voice was strong. The therapist directed the boy towards a beautiful wood bench under a tall tree that created a canopy over the bench, affording it a surprising amount of privacy.

"Harry, I don't think your birth father would find it disrespectful for you to call the man who is going to raise you, dad. However, if you want to keep that name for James Potter, feel free to do that. It's your way of honouring him. However, people use other names here in the UK for their dads. I call my dad Pater."

"Pater, isn't that Latin?"

"It is, sort of, but there are variations of the word in any of the old languages, including Anglo-Saxon. It isn't as formal as calling him 'Father', which would never fit the man I met. Give it a thought. There is also Tad, which is common in Wales. Da from Ireland or Pa from Scotland." Harry looked at him oddly. It wasn't every day you met a walking dictionary. "I did some research since you were wondering what words to use."

"Oh, thanks." Harry was impressed by this small action. The therapist took the chance to change the subject.

"I know you were complaining about the Muggle pills your primary care physician had prescribed. We could go to potions if you'd prefer. There is a healer as part of the practice."

"My stomach doesn't seem to bother me that much anymore, as long as I remember to take the pills right after I eat. Sirius and I also tried to find the potions I'd need and either they were ridiculous in price, or I'd need to have them owl delivered from Germany or Portugal. The money isn't really an issue for me, although I'd consider it silly to waste resources that way, and so much could happen to an owl coming that far that it makes more sense to stay on the Muggle pills that can be filled in the village less than two miles from home."

"Sensible thinking, Harry. Now, with all the changes this week, did you have time to do any journaling?" Dr Phillip asked, and Harry nodded and pulled the composition book from the rucksack he was carrying.

"I did. I do it every day, usually after breakfast but before I shower. Sirius, Remus, and I get up earlier than everyone else, and it's nice to have that time with us alone. They usually tell stories about my parents or their school days or something while we're eating. I like we have that time that's just the three of us. They gave me my first real feeling of what a family is, what it's like to have someone love you." Harry went to hand the man his journal, but the doctor shook his head.

"I don't want to read your journal; that's for you alone, but if you are comfortable, would you be willing to tell me about something you've written?" Phillip asked cautiously. Harry contemplated his answer carefully.

"Like I said, I usually journal after breakfast, and the conversations we have are light and reminiscent, and it usually makes me think about how my childhood might have been different, or what I'm looking for in a close friend, stuff like that. Yesterday I realized that I don't have to be friends with someone just because they want to be friends with me."

"Can you tell me more about that?" Harry ran his palms over his broadcloth covered thighs before he spoke.

"My dad, Sirius and Remus were the best of friends, and Sirius and Remus still are. Whenever any of them needed help with anything – schoolwork, girls, charming something – they were there for each other. Sirius and Dad were rich while Remus never had much, but the other two would never let him starve or live in a hovel or something. In return, Remus often got Dad out of hot water with my mum because he could talk her out of her anger. Apparently, my mother had quite a temper. So now Remus keeps Sirius from making stupid choices."

"What do you mean?"

"This week Sirius was ready to go out and spend a crazy amount of money to buy a sports car. He can't drive a car. He's never learned how. He also wanted to teach me, but I had to remind him I couldn't even get a learner's permit for another year. Stuff like that. Remus keeps Sirius from leaping before he looks. When I look at them or hear their stories, I realize that a lot of the people I called my 'friends' weren't.

"Hermione is my best friend," Harry continued, "and we have an extraordinary give and take like Sirius and Remus. She gets on my nerves sometimes, especially when she's reminding me to revise, but whenever I've needed her, she is there. I can see Hermione being my best friend for my whole life.

"Then I realized there was no one else who fits that category. Neville might be that sort of friend, but it's only been this year that we've been closer. Someone else, well, Ron, who we've discussed a bit, thought Neville wasn't as cool as us, so we never did much with him. I was afraid that if I disagreed with Ron, he wouldn't be my friend, and I had this idea that he was my first friend, so he had to be my life-long friend. Neville and I have so much more in common. We grew up without our parents and in households where we didn't get much affection. We like to read and get our hands dirty. I'm angry at how things have been, and I want to change them."

"Who are you angry at, Harry?"

"I'm angry at myself," Harry confessed as he ran his fingers through his hair. "I'm upset that I couldn't find it within myself to make my own friends instead of only doing what Ron wanted me to do. Hermione is a great friend and has saved his arse in school more times than he's willing to admit, but he teases her. That isn't how real friends behave.

"I'm angry at the Dursleys for so many things, but mostly at never showing me kindness," Harry muttered, a single tear running down his face. "I didn't know how good it felt to have someone hug you or tell you that you'd done well. I was starved for human contact, and people manipulated me because of it."

"I don't like myself very much," Harry confessed, tears coming more freely. "I feel like I was moved around, like a pawn on a chessboard, being whatever anyone needed me to be: The Boy Who Lived, Youngest Quidditch Seeker, Basilisk Slayer, Triwizard Champion. But, while I was these things, they aren't who I think I really am." Phillip put a hand on Harry's shoulder and gave it a squeeze. For his part, Harry removed the handkerchief Remus had convinced him to carry in his pocket (although Sirius told him to carry a red bandana instead as it was hipper) and dried his eyes and cheeks and then gave his nose a blow.

"Do you want to continue?" the doctor asked the patient.

"Yeah," Harry said. "Only way out is through, right?"

"That is what I said when we started. One question then, Harry, who are you?" Harry looked at the therapist, a bit puzzled by the question, but then he considered all the people and things in his life.

"In no particular order, I am a son and nephew, I am a friend, I am a cousin. I like to read, especially tales about exploration and the people who have discovered novel places. I'm fascinated by outer space and astronauts. I like magic. I want to learn how to use it without my wand and Remus and his friend, Maia. She's amazing and can do so many things that everyone has always told me wasn't possible without a wand," Harry's enthusiasm was growing as he spoke. "She helped me make a seedling grow; it was so awesome."

"I am the future Lord Potter of an ancient and noble house. I want to understand my responsibilities and..." he paused, "Pater is helping me." Harry tried out the name for Sirius and found that he liked it. Dr Phillip nodded and then motioned with his hands to urge Harry to continue. "I'm very wealthy, and I'd like to do something that helps people with my gold. I don't know what, but that's the sort of thing that Remus would be good helping me figure out. I will sit on the Wizengamot, and I want to know what that entails and make sure I'm prepared.

"I want to have a career, not just laze about. I like to work hard. I want to choose something that keeps me thinking and maybe unravel puzzles. I helped some younger students with their revisions, so maybe be a teacher of some sort. Was that enough of an answer, or do you want more?" Harry asked expectantly, and Dr Phillip was glowing.

"Harry, that was wonderful, and I'm proud of you for finding all that out about yourself. I have clients three times your age who can't name two things about themselves, and you've given me a dissertation. You have a wonderful sense of who you are in the world, about those you care about and the relationships you have with them. You have identified your responsibilities at a shockingly young age and want to be prepared to take them on. Bravo, Harry."

The praise made Harry feel elated. He then realized they were back at the building where Dr Phillip's office was. They'd stood and walked the whole way around, and Harry hadn't noticed because he was so involved in his joyful self-examination. Sirius and Remus were standing by Remus's car waiting for him.

"Keep journaling, and we'll take another walk next Saturday," the therapist said. "I want you to be prepared to talk about your childhood a bit next week, but only a bit. I think you are on the right track, Harry, so let's explore where it goes." Harry nodded and bounded off to see his family.

Sirius grabbed him and pulled him into a hug when he approached the car. "I don't know what you were saying, but you looked happy, and that makes me thrilled," the man whispered into Harry's hair.

"Thank you, Pater," Harry said softly, and Sirius pulled just far enough away to look into Harry's eyes.

"Pater," Sirius said slowly, tears forming in the corners of his eyes. "I like Pater." Harry hugged Sirius this time.

"Good," Harry quietly replied. "That's good. I like it too."