Harry Potter had always wanted a family...
He'd always wanted to be able to feel that warmth he sometimes felt wrap around him on the precipice of sleep, while awake. Harry wanted that feeling of being protecting without the tinges of fear or the high pitched laughter and a green light.
He wanted the laughter and smiles that he saw on the faces of other families in the park. Harry didn't even want the sense of showy family the Dursleys always seemed to portray. He just wanted the simple mutual understanding and trust and care for each other.
…But finding a family was hard, because Harry didn't want pity either…
He didn't want the condolences; the apologies that weren't really meant because his parents' deaths were sacrifices for the greater good. His family had been the sacrifice to stop the war against Voldemort, just like he would one day be – there was no way to fight a Dark Lord and not die, after all. It simply was impossible to truly have a family with all that expectation hanging over your head.
He saw it in the Weasleys. He saw it in Hermione, and her parents. He saw it in every witch or wizard he met in the Wizarding World.
…so Harry decided he could make his own…
They were all a bunch of dying kids anyway, hidden in the depths of hospitals with no hope of reaching adulthood. They were the same, even though Harry was healthy and they were sickly, and Harry thought that they could at least become friends.
He may have only been able to visit them for a couple of months in every year, but Harry still had a sense of belonging every time he saw them. He hoped they felt the same, but Harry could never be sure – especially with the broody eleven-year old Michael who tried to do his best to attack Harry upon sight.
Because there really wasn't anything more for them once they had been abandoned by their parents.
…and, eventually, Harry decided wanted to save them…
Magic truly was a wondrous thing.
Snape may have hated Harry, but Harry knew only Potions would save his Muggle family, so he learned as much as he could. Snape may have made him miserable, but he tolerated it. Harry would tolerate a lot to help his family – a bunch of kids who really deserved better than they got.
The scowls and threats and snarls and docked house points lay far below his tolerance for anger and annoyance. Potions didn't always work on Muggles. Harry just needed to find ways to make the ones he needed work on Muggles.
…and maybe he found he could save himself in the process.
"What would we do without you, Harry?" Brandon had asked one day, eyes bright as he eagerly waved his hands for his favourite sweets – Harry had double checked that he was allowed to eat them.
It had taken a long moment for Harry to respond. He looked around, and every one of them looked brighter than they did the first time he saw them. Something thick knotted in his throat, and Harry forced himself to swallow past it.
He was a Sixth Year, and the threat of Voldemort had loomed into a threatening cloud over Hogwarts. He had been studying everything he could to protect them. Harry hadn't really thought about protecting himself.
That was how it had always been, but Harry realised he couldn't continue. His family needed him.
Written for
[Hogwarts, Ravenclaw] Assignment 8: Muggle History Task 2: Aaron Burr: Write about someone fighting for what they want