Half Lives – Chapter Nine

The next morning Remus fixed Harry with a sharp look as the latter walked down for breakfast, but Harry remained ignorant and dutifully said good morning to everyone. Once he had sat down he looked around the table at a loss. "Mrs Weasley, is there any food left over from breakfast? Someone seems to have cleared it all away."

Mrs Weasley tutted. "Teenagers. I know it's been eons since you last ate, Harry, but breakfast is done, and I'm afraid lunch will be late today. As you can see, we are rather busy."

"What! Oh no, I didn't sleep in did I? Why? What's going on today?" Someone in the corner giggled. He then looked around properly, and noticed that the room was unusually full. There were quite a lot of people there in fact. Quite a lot of people who weren't normally at Number Twelve. It must have been a weekend. Harry always found it hard to keep track of days during the holidays. "What's going on now?"

"An Order meeting, Potter." Alastor Moody grumbled from the corner. "You interrupted."

"Oh. Sorry." Harry stood up bemusedly. "But," he paused half way to the door, "breakfast?"

"It's over, Harry!" Mrs Weasley said in exasperation. "And no amount of hinting is going to get you a second one. Now shoo!"

"But" Harry protested from the doorway which he was being herded to, "I didn't have a first!"

Everyone in the room stopped and looked at him. "What?" Harry asked, annoyed.

"Yes you have, Harry." Mrs Weasley said gently. "You were here not two hours ago." Seeing his scrunched up face as he thought on it, she continued, "I know it may seem longer, but honestly, you are not going to die of starvation. Not with the amount you ate. More than I ever saw from you. Same as Ron!"

"No, I didn't have breakfast, I only just woke up." Harry repeated. "I distinctly remember not having any food. I'm still hungry anyway."

"Harry," Remus spoke now, "You were here two hours ago. You had toast. And eggs. You spoke to me."

"Oh fine. I give up. When was lunch again?" Everyone in the room smiled at the insatiable appetite of a teenage boy. But as Harry was pushed out the room, Mrs Weasley and Remus watched him, and Harry racked his brain trying to remember anything from earlier that morning.

-0-

Just minutes later Ginny Weasley sat down at the kitchen table in Number Twelve. Her mouth was dry, her hands were shaking, her knees were weak; the poor girl had everything. A textbook infatuation. Oh it was marvellous. He had been acting off for a few weeks, but she never suspected that was the reason. She was just starting to lose hope, and resign herself to the Michael Corners and Dean Thomases of the world when bam! He waltzed in and swept her off her feet. Oh it was wonderful, it was-

"Ginny, can't you see we're in the middle of something?" Mrs Weasley looked at her youngest in exasperation. Really, Harry had only just left and before his seat had cooled, another teenager went and sat in it!

"Oh mum, I'm so happy!" Ginny sighed. That immediately got Mrs Weasley suspicious. Her daughter never 'sighed'. "I had no idea Harry even looked at me that way, but he just-"

"Ginny, dear, we have company."

The girl looked around, as though noticing the Order meeting for the first time. Several people looked rather amused. Sirius looked down right wolfish. And Tonks even had her bright hair back. "Oh. So we do." She paused. "Should I leave?"

"Yes, do." Her mother said between tight teeth. She was uncomfortably aware that everyone was watching. Why was it always up to her to get rid of the children?

As Ginny stood up to leave, Moody could be heard to grumble "How do they keep getting through the repelling charms, anyway?"

-0-

Ginny wandered through the house, feeling vaguely drunk. She couldn't find Harry anywhere, which was slightly disappointing, but she reminded herself of Teen Witch's advice not to be too clingy, and instead found herself looking for Hermione to confide in. She did find her, eventually, where Harry was supposed to be, in his and Ron's bedroom. Ron was with her too, they were both pouring over thick heavy books in their laps, and both looked up sharply when Ginny walked in. Ron shoved his book under the pillow and Hermione closed hers with a snap and hugged it to her chest, hiding the title. "Ginny!" Hermione exclaimed. "What are you doing here?"

"I just had to tell you." She said, sliding to sit on Harry's bed. Harry's bed. Her ears went pink in a way she hadn't let them in several years. "And thank you, Hermione, thank you, you are undoubtedly the most marvellous, clever, brilliant friend a witch could ask for."

"Oh!" Hermione flushed, acutely aware that Ron was hearing this. "Well-"

"I followed your advice you see. I stopped writing him valentines, I stopped blushing, giggling, following him around – and it worked, Hermione! Oh it's worked!"

"Ginny, I-" Hermione looked sideways at Ron. Was this really the right time?

"And I talked to him, and I joked with him, and I dated his classmates, and I ignored him, and he ignored me, but now he isn't and it's wonderful!" Ginny all but gushed.

If nothing had struck Ron as odd about the interruption until now, that would have set some alarm spells ringing. Ginny never 'gushed'.

"Ginny, I am happy for you." Hermione left her book on Ron's bed and hopped over to sit next to Ginny, secretive research forgotten. "What happened? Has anything really happened? Are you sure you're not reading too much into this?"

"Oh yes, Hermione, not even I could mistake this!"

Ron had the uncomfortable feeling that they were about to start squealing. But Harry's bed sat between him and the door. Maybe he could sneak past, very quietly...

"What happened?"

"I wasn't doing anything, just in the front room making a card house, I hadn't even realised Harry was in the room. But then he bet me he could make a bigger house before the explosion. Scared me half to death!" Ginny laughed. "And he looked, different. I don't know, alive, somehow. More, boyish. Confident, reckless, you know? Hermione, do boys always look like that when they're flirting?"

Ron, who had made it halfway off his bed, promptly fell over. Flirting? Harry? Ginny?

"Um, I, I couldn't say, Ginny." Hermione said in embarrassment. She was sure she'd never seen Harry look like that, however.

"And he sat really close to me; our legs were touching – our legs Hermione! And he started complimenting me on my card house, and he called me his flower, and kept saying all this stuff about how I was just so good at everything – except he was better on a broom obviously – and then started talking about Hogsmeade. Hermione, has he been trying to ask me out for ages? Because he seemed to think he had. Said he'd try asking me to Hogsmeade again, even if I had shot him down the past million times. And I honestly don't know what he was on about, because he just kept saying how beautiful I was, and calling me 'flower', and being so charming, and cocky! It was funny! And then," Ginny's voice dropped and she started blushing in full force. "And then he tucked my hair behind my ear, and said it shouldn't obscure my beautiful eyes, and oh, Hermione! I think he was about to kiss me!"

Ginny sat back sullenly. "And then Dung walked in, and Harry practically ran from the room."

"What?" Hermione repeated, in an entirely different tone of voice. "He just left?"

"Yeah, I think Dung must have scared him off, you know?" Ginny toyed with the quilt mindlessly. "Anyway, Dung just wanted to know which room the Order meeting was held in – oh! I just walked in the middle of it, didn't I?"

"I don't know, did you?"

"Yeah, so I took Dung to the kitchen, and went looking for Harry. But I couldn't find him anywhere, so, I came here." Ginny finished with a shrug, but her eyes were shining.

Ron, who by this time had gotten to the door way was feeling very pleased with himself, and as such felt brave enough to say (slightly unkindly, because he was feeling entirely wrong footed by the chain of events) "You know Fleur's name means 'flower', right?" He ducked as Ginny threw the pillow at him. Wisely, his next move was to run out the door. "Come on, we'd best go look for Harry!" He called from a safe distance up the corridor. "Who knows what mess he's gotten into!" Or, who knows what Hermione and Ginny would do to him now that he's gotten himself into this mess, and how could he sufficiently distract them? "I'll go mobilise the adults. Downstairs." Then he added under his breath "Away from gossipy girls."

-0-

So it was that five minutes later, half the Order meeting had been corralled into searching the house for Harry (the half who could be bothered) and Moody was left still grumbling about his failed teenager repelling charms, and Mrs Weasley was left still wondering why it was always her sorting the children, and Remus was left wondering what on earth he was doing pairing up with Tonks to search.

"There you are!" Sirius opened the door to his own room some minutes later to see his godson staring at the pictures that adorned his walls. "Everyone is looking for you. We even split up the meeting. What are you doing? Hey. What are you doing? Hello? Harry? Harry?"

As if suddenly coming back to himself at the sound of his name, Harry started slightly and turned round in surprise. "Sirius. I didn't hear you."

"Evidently." Sirius smiled. "What are you doing up here anyway, last place we'd expect to find you."

"Where-" Harry looked around, as though seeing the room for the first time. "Oh, your bed room. Um." He shrugged. "I dunno, nothing."

"Those photos, they're from your grandparents' house." Sirius gestured haltingly to the frames Harry had been looking at when he walked in.

"Really?" He looked at them with renewed focus and interest.

"Yes. They were-"

"Harry?" "Harry!" "Harry!" The voices of the other searchers floated up to them for the first time. Sirius stopped abruptly. They both listened to the people moving about. Sirius didn't seem to know how to go on with his anecdote now he'd stopped.

"We had best tell them we found you." Sirius said finally. "Come on." He gently ushered Harry through the door and down the stairs. "I'm sure Ginny's going frantic."

As Harry sat watching his godfather one night in the kitchen, he realised that, had the man been completely sane and saw the sun every now and then, he would have been cool. With an antique looking coat with huge fur collar, wrists covered in makeshift bracelets of greying material strips, multiple rings, obscure tattoos, genuine biker boots and a genuine motorbike to go with it, the man looked like an aging rock star. Harry, who, despite celebrity status, had never been cool, thought that having a cool godfather was cool in itself.

"You know, James," Sirius said suddenly after half an hour of silence. "Harry looks an awful lot like you. Nicer though."

Harry smiled wanly and decided it was time to begin plan Get A Godfather. He began to recite everything he had learnt over the past few weeks about James Potter in his head. His mannerisms, his opinions, his anecdotes. He remembered, experienced and absorbed. And then he began to play at grownups.

"I am not so sure Pads, I mean I am pretty much perfect. As pleasant as you think my son is, I am a martyred hero after all. No one could beat that. Poor souls, destined to always be just that bit less spectacular than I, no matter how hard they try." James paused and scratched his chin where a bit of stubble should have been. "Unless he finally beat Mad-Eye..."

Harry woke the next morning and wondered if James had joined Sirius with the whisky during the previous night. His head hurt and his glasses no longer seemed to work.

For Harry, the weekend had been spent with Fleur practically glued to his side, and he suspected today was not going to be any different. It seemed to be a matter of great interest to everyone in Grimmauld. But Fleur just ignored the jibes about Harry's virtue and 'witches who think Grimmauld is beneath one' and made excuse after excuse to disappear off to some obscure corner with him for several hours. When, after hours of supposed ash winder hunts and aborted attempts at learning French, an exhausted Harry gave in and asked Fleur what she was doing, the abashed witch confessed she felt persecuted and alone in Grimmauld, having only come upon her fiancé's pleading, and Harry was the sole person she felt she could talk to without been drooled or sneered over. Harry felt he could empathise, even if it was all he could do to not be part of the drooling masses. And so from then on the pair began to 'clear out the dangerous such-and-such from the such-and-such room', hiding from people wanting to discuss either engagements or Veils, and laughing over Harry's appalling attempts at French.

Their happy self exclusion from the house was frequently interrupted the following week, however, by Harry's sleepless nights becoming James Potter for a semi-aware Sirius, by Fleur's part-time work at Gringotts and by stories of disappearances, odd accidents, even deaths appearing near daily in the newspaper. Sometimes the news was even brought home by a passing Order agent before it reached the papers. For example, Remus arrived after another week long absence on Harry's birthday to tell them that Dementor attacks had increased country-wide, that Igor Karkaroff had been found dead under the Dark Mark, and that both Ollivander and Florean Fortescue had been removed from Diagon Alley. The werewolf had taken one look at Harry and had chastised him for sitting up with Sirius instead of getting rest. Apparently the boy looked as tired as he felt. When Harry protested, Remus just waited. Harry caved and promised not to do so again.

-0-

"I don't get it." Harry grumbled later as he, Ron and Hermione were flicking through some old books deemed safe from the Black's collection. "I haven't even been down to see Sirius all week!" He glared at the book at it tried to give him a paper cut. "But he's convinced I'm lying. Do you think the lyncathrope virus gave him extra worrywart-ness as well?"

"Don't be silly, Harry." Hermione said automatically, not really paying attention.

"Nah, you've been sleep walking again mate." Ron informed him. "Though a worry-virus would explain it."

Harry looked up sharply. "I don't sleep walk."

"Course you do." Ron didn't seem to get how big news this was to his friend. "Ever since first year. Maybe even before that, I dunno. Why do you think we started locking the dorm door?"

"I thought it was to keep the twins out after that shoe exploded..."

"We had to stop you searching for the Mirror somehow."

"Don't worry," Hermione said, glancing up from her book, "we got Dumbledore's permission."

"'Cause that's what Harry's really worried about. Permission." Ron said. "Reckon we stopped you going loco. Dumbledore said it'd drive you mad. Ought to thank us."

"But, I sleep walk?"

"Yes you sleep walk, now do be quiet, and listen to this." Hermione shifted in her seat. "'The Veil was first documented to be used for sacrificial rituals by the Druids, and later for executions of those the muggles suspected of witch-craft (See Chapter three, 'Hypocritical Happenings), though its origins and true purpose are still unclear. Likewise the actual method of its action has eluded comprehension despite rumoured investigation by the Department of Mysteries (See Chapter thirteen 'Rumours One Should Not Think About, Let Alone Talk Of). It is this author's opinion that some vital life force is removed from the individual who passes through, for inanimate objects pass through unharmed and the living are retained and become unto death. Therefore it can be supposed that anything that passes throughand out is of the Veil, or never of life. And it follows that if an object is never of life, it is, by process of elimination, of Death.' Harry...?" Hermione looked up, and her friend's seat was empty and the door ajar. "Oh dear."

Remus paused on the landing. A very irate looking teenager had just slipped out of his bedroom. The boy ruffled his hair and mumbled something about 'my father' (Remus wondered if Harry knew just how much he looked like James, and sounded like the young Malfoy right then) and started off down the corridor. Remus dithered, unsure of his reception, but it seemed as if Harry sensed this, because half way down the corridor he hesitated mid step and cocked his head as though listening. Without knowing why Remus stilled and muffled his breathing. Then, as suddenly as awakened with a spell, Harry started off again with a new purpose.

"Harry!" Remus recollected himself and hurried after the teen. "Harry!" The boy didn't reply until Remus caught up with him below the upper staircase and caught his shoulder.

"My name is James, remember?" Harry said as he was halted. "I do not think anyone around here knows a Harry."

Remus sighed. "Look, I know it seems like that sometimes, what with You-Know-Who, and the Order, and Sirius doesn't help; but we do. I'm telling you the truth. And I didn't mean to snap before. I'm here to apologise, I know you're feeling the weight of everything just now, and you don't need a geriatric old professor telling you off every day." Remus smiled tiredly.

Harry gave him an odd look. "Yeah. Right. Well you are not quite a silver-wolf yet, old friend. Though I think you will always be a professor, age or no."

That pulled a more heartfelt smile from Remus. "And about Sirius, you don't have to – yes, I know, I'm not carping- I just wanted to say, you don't have to, he'll only make everything worse for you, but I know you feel you ought. So, just try to get some rest too. You need to look after yourself."

"Sirius never makes things worse." Harry said fiercely. "He just happens to get caught in bad situations. And if I am not there for him who will be? You two have not exactly been brilliant these past few years have you?" Remus looked shocked for a moment, and then started to tell him off like the child he was behaving as, but Harry got there first. "Sorry. Sorry, Moony. Maybe I do need more sleep. But it is hard with You-Know-Who, crying babies and nosy red heads you know?" Harry grinned ruefully. "Look, I am on my way to talk to Sirius now, see if I can talk him round. Will you come? He would like to see you."

Harry began to climb the steps to the second floor where Sirius resided, and for a moment Remus stood, dumbfounded, watching him. "Moony..." He said silently, and then grinned, looking almost as young as his namesake. "He called me Moony." Remus shook his head and bounded up after his best friend's son.

"'Arry? 'Ave you finished your conjugations? Where are you going?" hurrying up the stairs from the ground floor came Fleur, determinedly not looking behind her, where Remus could hear female muttering. "I will come with you."

Harry paused once more and ruffled his hair. "What? Oh, yes, Fleur. Hello."

She laughed prettily and tossed her hair. It made Remus want to sneeze. "Now 'Arry. Don't you start zis Veela nonsense like ze rest of ze 'ouse. Never mind ze 'ousework, I do not want to dirty my robes today, let us go practice your verbs."

"Wait!" Remus put out one hand to stop them as Fleur led Harry back down to the first floor and the small library in Sirius' father's study. "I thought you were going to talk to Sirius..."

"Was I?" Harry looked bemused. "But he only talks properly at night, Professor. And I'm not allowed to see him then, am I?" Harry turned and followed Fleur. "Maybe he'll talk to you."