Disclaimer I do not own Harry Potter and everything recognisable belongs to J K Rowling.
Thanks for all the wonderful reviews! Here is the next chappie. Just a warning that this chapter is really emotional. Enjoy!
Chapter Thirty Nine
Lily picked up the empty cups and bottles from the table and threw them into the black bin bag. She always cleaned up after a party the muggle way. It gave her the time to reflect on the happenings of the party. She couldn't help but smile. Harry had ended up really enjoying the party. She knew at the beginning he was mad at her for blackmailing him into coming downstairs and away from the depressing research, but he cheered up by the end of it. In fact, there was a noticeable difference in his mood when he came back into the room from the balcony, clutching Ginny's hand.
Lily's smile deepened when she remembered how happy both of them had looked together. She knew that Harry still had feelings for Ginny and was relieved that they had finally worked through their problems. She noticed that Molly had looked happy at the sight of Harry and Ginny as well.
She let out a sigh. It had been a tiring day. She carried the black bin bag into the kitchen, intending to go out through the back door and throw the rubbish out. Damien had helped her tidy up a little but was excused to go to his bed as it was late and the fourteen year old was visibly exhausted.
As soon as she walked into the kitchen she saw James. He was putting the dishes away, using magic.
"Its okay, James. I'll do it." Lily said.
James smiled at her.
"It's all done." He said as he flicked the cupboard closed after the last dish levitated inside. He looked at his wife closely. "You look exhausted." He commented.
"I am." Lily replied, reaching back to gently squeeze her shoulders and her neck. "Even though it was a small party, there was so much to do."
"I'm glad we decided to do a smaller gathering than the big party. I think Harry enjoyed this better." James said, smiling at the memory of just a few hours ago.
Lily nodded her head in agreement.
"Yes and I don't think I would have been able to drag Harry to the venue. Just getting him to come downstairs was proving a difficult feat." She said.
"He's not mad at you." James assured his wife.
"I think if it wasn't for Ginny and them making up again, he would have been. Since something positive happened from the party, Harry's not keeping a grudge with me." Lily said with a smile.
"Where is he now? Has he gone to bed?" James asked.
The smile dropped off Lily's face.
"He's back to his studying." She said with a resonate sigh.
"I don't think Harry is going to rest until he finds him. It scares me when I see how determined he is to find this impostor. He's been in his room all day." James said, shaking his head.
Lily looked at James carefully, her emerald gaze locked with his.
"You know as well as I do that's not the reason he was locked in his room all day." She said, her voice quiet and serious. "It's been a year today. He stayed away from everyone, including Damien, just so no one talked to him about it." She said not taking her eyes away from James' face.
"He probably wanted to be alone. I can understand that." James said.
"That's the problem, James. Harry's been alone ever since Voldemort and Bella died. No one, including you and me, has spoken to Harry about it. It's the reasoning behind all his suffering and nightmares!" she saw the familiar look of annoyance on James' face at the awkward subject matter.
In a softer tone, Lily continued.
"James, you spent three months looking up a solution to Harry's nightmares when the solution was always there in front of you. If you had talked to him, let him open…"
"You think it's that easy! Why don't you give it a try!" James snapped at her. How many times was he going to have to go over this with her? Harry was never going to talk to anyone about Voldemort.
"I'm his mother. It's different for me to talk to him. You're the one who has stepped into Harry life in his place. You're his father now. You need to be the one to discuss this." Lily explained calmly.
The look of annoyance disappeared from James' face and instead a look of sadness overcame him.
"I'm not his father. I'm his dad." He said in a much more subdued voice. Lily looked at him in sympathy. "I know that he still thinks of him as his father. It's not like I haven't noticed. He never refers to me as father. I'm just his dad. In his head, Voldemort will always be his father." James said in a defeated voice.
Lily didn't know what to say. She had noticed this about Harry as well. She put a hand on his arm, making him look up at him.
"He's not going to get over this on his own. He needs help, and he needs his father. You can't cast that sleeping spell on him every night for the rest of his life." She said.
James looked uncertainly at her.
Without saying any more, Lily turned towards the back door, carrying the rubbish bag with her.
xxx
James knocked once on Harry's door. When there was no answer, James cautiously turned the handle in his hand and opened the door. He thought maybe Harry had gone to bed and left the researching to tomorrow.
He was surprised to see the files still lying open on Harry's desk but no sign of the raven haired boy. James walked out of the room and headed to Damien's room, thinking that maybe Harry was in there, talking to his younger brother.
He found Damien half asleep in his bed.
"Dad?" he asked sleepily as the light from the hallway flooded into his room and disturbed him.
"Sorry, Damy. I didn't mean to wake you up. Go back to sleep." James said, already retreating from the room.
"If you're looking for Harry, he's on the roof." Damien muttered sleepily.
James paused.
"On the roof? What's he doing on the roof?" James asked.
Damien didn't answer.
"Damy? What's Harry doing on the roof? Damien?"
James called out but the only answer he got was the sound of Damien's gentle snores.
Shaking his head, James walked back out of his youngest son's room and closed the door gently. He wasn't sure if Damien was telling the truth or just sleep talking. He headed towards the roof anyway, just to see if Harry was up there or not.
He thought to himself in amusement that if Harry was on the roof then that meant that he couldn't find Harry when fully awake but Damien could find Harry in his sleep!
xxx
James stood at the door leading out onto the roof of Potter Manor. He stood in the doorway, just watching the sight of his son, sitting in complete silence, staring out at the night.
As quietly as he could, James walked over to him and sat down next to him. Harry picked up on James' arrival but didn't say anything to him for the first few moments.
"I needed some air." He offered as an explanation after a few minutes.
James smiled.
"You don't need to explain, Harry. It's your home, you can go anywhere you want." He replied.
Harry gave the smallest of nods and kept staring out in front of him.
"Your mum is worried you may still be mad at her." James said offhandedly.
Harry didn't look at him but a small smile graced his face.
"I'll just let her think that for a while longer." He said.
James chuckled making Harry laugh as well.
"It wasn't that bad a night, was it?" James asked.
"No, it wasn't." Harry replied, thinking about Ginny.
A few more minutes passed in silence before James plucked up the courage to talk about the thing he had avoided for so long now.
"A year today." He said in a quiet voice.
Harry turned to look at James, obviously caught in surprise.
"A year today." Harry repeated in a whisper.
"How are you?" James asked.
He knew that the question sounded bizarre and kind of stupid but there wasn't anything else he could ask that was appropriate.
Harry stared at James before answering by shrugging his shoulders.
"I'm fine."
James felt like laughing. He could have bet everything he had that that was going to be Harry's answer.
"If you want to talk, I'm here." James said it as bluntly as he could.
Harry looked over at James, his eyes lingering on James before he shook his head.
"There's nothing to talk about. I'm fine, really I am." He said.
"You're not fine Harry. How can anyone be fine if they went through what you did?" James said quietly.
"Dad, I really don't want to discus this." Harry said, feeling like he had said this phrase to his dad about a thousand times already.
"Then don't discuss it. Just talk, I'll listen. I won't say a word." James said.
"What good will that do?" Harry asked, annoyed.
"Try it and you'll see." James answered.
Harry held his dad's gaze for a minute before looking away. He didn't say anything for long minutes, making James certain that Harry wasn't going to talk about anything. But James didn't move. He stayed where he was sitting, not saying a single word.
Just as James believed that both of them were going to sit there in silence all night, Harry spoke. His voice was uncharacteristically small and vulnerable, surprising James.
"I was so stupid."
Harry spoke to the ground, his hands clasped around his knees. He was staring at his own feet, not attempting to look at James.
"I can't believe I couldn't see it. I couldn't see all lies he fed me. All those times he acted like he cared, like he was really my father." Harry's teeth clenched around the last word. His hands were balled into tight fists.
As promised, James didn't say anything but felt his heart jump as he detected beyond all the hate and anger, the feeling of hurt and being used.
"I don't know why I never questioned it." Harry went on. "All my memories, I never questioned why my real parents would hate me. What reason they had to hurt me. I just believed what he told me. All that crap about being a dark wizard and having a dark magical aura." Harry shook his head, as if trying to shake off something.
"I was just stupid. I still am! After everything, everything he did to me when I was a kid, the way he took away my childhood, all the times he used me to finish his enemies, after everything he put me through, I still can't make myself hate him!" Harry turned to look at James, his eyes wide and filled with a pain James understood well himself.
"Even after Narcissa told me about my memories being taken from me I still can't hate him! I don't know why. I don't know what's wrong with me." He said in frustrated defeat.
Breaking his promise to stay quiet, James spoke.
"There's nothing wrong with you. This is something you can't control. The way you can't make yourself love someone is the same way that you can't make yourself hate someone. It's something that is out with your control." James explained.
Harry looked away from James.
"But I should hate him." Harry commented
"Harry, when you first came back to me, the way you acted with me was, well, hurtful to say the least." James ignored the way Harry's face clouded with guilt, he had to say this. "At times I would get so angry at you and confused with your behaviour. I couldn't understand why you hated me so much. That day…on the cliff…"
"Dad, please…" Harry tried to interrupt, his face flushed with guilt and hurt.
"Let me finish, Harry." James said gently, quietening Harry. "That day, when I almost died, I had no idea why you attacked me. But even though I was beyond angry with you, I still loved you. I didn't want you to get hurt. You tried to kill me, you threatened to kill my best friend and even taunted me about killing Lily but that never made me hate you. I still loved you then, as much as I love you now."
Harry forced his expression not to show his guilt but failed miserably.
"You have a weird way of kicking me when I'm down." He said in a strained joking manner. He was annoyed though that his dad was bringing up his past crimes like that.
James smiled at Harry's half joked comment.
"I'm not saying this to make you feel bad. I'm trying to show that I understand how you're feeling. No matter what you did to me, I could never hate you. And I understand that you feel the same way about Voldemort."
It was true, James had come to accept this of Harry. He had spent so long wanting Harry to hate Voldemort for his wrongdoings but he had to tiredly admit defeat. Harry couldn't; hate him, just like James could never hate Harry.
"It's not the same, dad. You can't hate me because you know that whatever I did, I did in mistake. What Voldemort did was intentional and part of a plan. That's what gets me. That he lied to me. Everything about my life was a lie. If he hated me so much he shouldn't have brought me up. He could have done things differently. Any one of his Death Eaters could have brought me up. The Malfoys, Bella…" his voice choked a little but Harry quickly pushed past it. "Any one of them could have brought me up to be a follower of his. He didn't have to lie, he didn't have to pretend."
The last word was where it all suddenly made sense to James. He finally understood that it wasn't just guilt that was destroying Harry from the inside. It was the knowledge that Voldemort never truly cared about him. That all the times Harry had thought his father protected him and cared for him was all a lie and pretence. James understood Harry's hurt now better than he did a year ago.
He continued to listen as Harry poured everything he had bottled up for a year now, out into the open.
"I used to boast that I could sense what Voldemort was thinking and most of the times, he would just gesture something and I would know what he wanted. I thought it was because we were close that we could communicate without words. But now, now I see that I didn't know him at all. I can't trust anything he ever said to me because I don't know how to separate his lies. I can't even trust my own memories; he took that away from me as well." Harry said, his voice reduced to a whisper.
"I would have thought that the knowledge that Voldemort actually loved you would make you feel worse about…about what happened." James said in concern.
Harry looked at James before answering.
"I don't feel guilty about killing him." he stated to a shocked James. "I mean I do, but it's something I can live with. It's bearable because I know what I did was in answer to what he tried to do to Damien. Voldemort had killed him, with all intents and purposes. I reacted to what he did. I know that he wasn't interested in Damien, he only attacked him to hurt me. I don't regret my action in that sense." Harry's voice dropped and James had to strain his ears to pick up what Harry said next. "It's all the stuff before that. The unresolved issues I had with him. It's the fact that I can't get any answers. My head tells me that he used me and lied to me and another side to me argues that everything he did couldn't have been a lie. I thought I knew him so well, it's hard to accept that I was so wrong about him, about everything. The fact that my memories are failing me makes it all the worse because now I feel like I don't know anything about my past. I hate that I don't know what to believe anymore." Harry finished.
At last James got the answer he was looking for. The reasoning behind Harry's hurting. This was what was bothering him. It wasn't as much as the guilt of killing Voldemort, like everyone had assumed. It was the broken pieces of his past that didn't make any sense to him anymore. In a twisted way, it was how James felt when Peter betrayed him. James had been left to wonder how he had managed to misjudge his friend like that. He had trusted Peter and had thought that he knew him better than anyone. Peter's betrayal had ripped him apart. Harry felt the same way. James knew how soul destroying that felt.
"I can't believe that I'm about to say this." James started, questioning his own reasoning. "But I don't think that Voldemort pretended." As soon as James said the words, Harry turned to look at him abruptly. "I saw a lot of memories in your pensive and as strange as it sounds, I can tell he wasn't pretending to care for you. I think it started off as pretence but slowly he started loving you like a father."
Harry shook his head.
"What you saw were my memories. If I can't trust them, you shouldn't either." Harry argued.
Silence rang between the two Potters. James was racking his mind to come up with something that would help Harry believe the truth. Never in his life did he think there would come a time he would be thinking of ways to convince Harry that Voldemort did in fact care for him and love him like a son.
Suddenly he thought of something.
"Get up, Harry and come with me." James said as he stood up.
"Where are we going?" Harry asked still sitting on the ground.
"Somewhere we should have gone long before now." James answered.
Reluctantly Harry stood up and took his dad's outstretched hand. Both of them disappeared with a quiet pop.
xxx
Harry looked around at his surroundings as soon as he recovered from side along appartition. His heart fluttered madly in his chest as recognition set in. Even though both of them were surrounded in darkness he knew instantly where they were. It was like he could pick it up from the air. He turned to his dad.
"Why are we here?" he asked, unable to keep his tone indifferent.
"I think it's important for you to come back here. You should have come here long before now." James was finding it difficult to say all this. He buried the bitter feelings deep inside him. This was about Harry and no matter how much it hurt, the truth had to be disclosed.
Harry turned to glance at the impressive castle behind him.
"What do you expect to find?" Harry asked, unsure of what good it would do to come here.
"I don't expect to find anything. You on the other hand may find the answers to your questions." James said quietly.
"This is stupid! What am I going to find here? I shouldn't have said anything to you. Let's go!" Harry said, refusing to even face the deserted Manor.
James stopped him from disapparating by placing a hand on his shoulder.
"Go Harry. I'll wait out here." He said, gesturing towards the Manor, ignoring his protests.
Harry looked at him, his uncertainty clear on his face.
"But…"
"Take as long as you need. I'll be here." James said, effectively cutting off his arguments.
Harry took a long look at James before turning around to face the castle draped in darkness. It was strange, the last time he had seen this place was a year ago. Harry started walking towards the castle, the deserted Manor that was once Harry's home. He was back at Riddle Manor.
xxx
Harry's footsteps echoed loudly in the empty castle as he made his way into Riddle Manor. He saw evidence that the Aurors had been here in the main hallway. He could see the magical tapes around many of the doors. He tried to ignore them as much as possible.
He couldn't figure out what he felt walking back into this place, his home, his sanctuary. Harry shook his head. It wasn't that anymore. It was never that. This was always Voldemort's home, it had never been his.
Feeling like something had pierced his heart, Harry turned to leave. This was stupid. He didn't know what his dad was thinking, bringing him here. What was he supposed to find here? How could, coming back to the place you were effectively kept a prisoner, do you any good? But even as Harry neared the door he realised that his last memories of this place weren't the ones that jumped out at him. Surprisingly, it was the memories he couldn't trust that flooded his mind. Exploring the castle, using the secret passageways, convincing Draco to eavesdrop on Death Eater meetings when they were kids. Harry found a smile fight its way onto his face. He had to admit those times were fun.
Harry found his feet lead him down the hallway and towards the pair of heavy oak doors. He could tell that the Aurors hadn't managed to get into Voldemort's main chamber. A contented smile found its way onto his face again as Harry pictured the Aurors trying to get in and failing.
Harry stood in front of the doors. He could feel his heart thump so hard it ached. With a hesitant finger, Harry touched the rough surface of the door. Without saying a single word or incantation, the heavy doors opened of their own accord, permitting Harry entrance.
Harry stood at the doorway. Everything was as it was exactly a year ago. Evidence of the Aurors ambush was in plain sight. Voldemort's usually polished floors were stained with what was undoubtedly blood. His windows were smashed as was the glass roof. Harry's eyes swept over the room and landed on the raised platform. He felt a strange sensation wash over him as he spotted the overturned chair lying on the platform.
He stepped into the room, his feet echoing loudly. He walked over to the upturned chair and picked the heavy chair off the floor and straightened it. His hands lingered on the high back of the chair. It wasn't right to have Voldemort's chair lying on the floor like that. It didn't feel right.
Harry slowly walked around the room, taking in the destroyed chamber. He never thought the sight of Voldemort's room in pieces would affect him this badly. He slowly inched towards the door in the far corner. Again, his mere touch opened the door and Harry walked into Voldemort's private chamber. The door closed behind Harry.
Everything was just as Voldemort had left it. Harry could even see the creases on the bed covers where he had last been sitting. Harry walked over to it and sat down on the floor next to it. He didn't know why but the sight made his eyes burn. This room hadn't been opened since last year. The last person in this room had been Voldemort.
Harry sat in silence, just staring at the room. He looked over at the magnificent ornate wardrobe that stood in the corner. He walked over to it and opened it to see the robes hanging in pristine order. Harry reached over and let his fingers run over a few of them. He could almost feel Voldemort's essence within the robes. Harry shut the doors quickly, regaining composure of himself.
He quickly made to leave the room. He shouldn't have come here. It wasn't going to do him any good. It would only make his feel worse. Just as Harry moved towards the door he noticed something. Next to the wardrobe was Voldemort's desk. Parchments still lying littered on it. His favourite feather quill was resting in a pot of ink. But that wasn't what caught Harry's attention. It was the small box the size of Harry's palm that was sitting next to the pot of ink. Harry was sure he had never seen it before.
He hesitantly approached it and picked up the box. It was hexagon shaped and weighed almost nothing. Of course in the magical world, that didn't necessary mean that it was empty. Something made Harry open the box, he was certain he had never seen it before and Harry was well acquainted with most of Voldemort's possessions.
What Harry saw when he opened the small box almost took his breath away. Sitting inside the box was a small pebble. Harry felt his knees weaken as he saw it again. With trembling fingers, he picked it up, as if to be sure it was really there. The small pebble sat in his hand as he just stared at it, not sure what to make of it.
It was a six year old Harry who had given the pebble to Voldemort. Harry remembered that day well. Draco had fooled him into thinking that the pebble was an ancient stone that was engraved with a protection rune. Harry had rushed with it to Voldemort and offered it to him to keep him safe on his encounters with Aurors.
He still remembered the way Voldemort had told him off. He explained that the pebble was just that, a pebble, a small stone with no purpose. He took it from Harry and seemingly had thrown it aside. He took out his wand and showed it to Harry saying that the only thing that could offer him protection was his wand and his mind.
That was the last time Harry ever gave anything to Voldemort. Harry couldn't believe that Voldemort had kept the useless stone. It served no purpose. Harry put the pebble back into the box and put it back on the desk. He didn't know what to make of it. He refused to believe that Voldemort was kept the pebble for sentimental reasons. Voldemort was not a sentimental person. This didn't make any sense.
Harry left the room in a daze. He had not expected to find something like that in his room. He walked back out to the main hallway and stood lost in his thoughts. He looked in the direction of his old wing. He wasn't sure if he should go and look for it. He had been certain it had been destroyed after he left Voldemort. However, after finding the pebble, he wasn't so sure anymore.
He set off towards his wing. His mind was coming up with all sorts of viable reasons why Voldemort would keep that useless pebble. It definitely wasn't magical in the least. Voldemort had proved that to Harry when he had handed it over to him. So why would he keep it? Just because it was the only thing Harry had ever given to him? Harry shook his head, that couldn't be it.
Before he realised it he was standing in front of his bedroom door. Feeling his heart beat frantically against his chest, Harry opened his door. The usual sight greeted him. Harry couldn't find the strength to walk inside. He stood at the threshold, just looking at his bedroom. Nothing had been moved. Not one single thing. The robes that Harry had thrown over his chair, the last morning he had been here, were still there.
Harry walked inside, feeling his body numb with shock. He flicked open his wardrobe and saw all his clothes still inside. The books he liked reading were still sitting in his bookshelf. It looked like everything had been left in its place in wait for Harry's return.
Harry stood in the middle of his room, not knowing what to think. He had been so sure Voldemort hated him. He was willing to bet everything he had that Voldemort would have destroyed all Harry's possessions. Now that he saw the truth, he couldn't look away from it.
Harry didn't know how long he stood in his room, in silence, observing the overwhelming truth that he had desperately wanted to believe. He had all the proof he needed to see that despite everything Voldemort did to him and made his suffer through, a part of him had always loved Harry. Even after Harry destroyed all of his Horcruxes, Voldemort didn't destroy even one of Harry's earthly possessions.
xxx
James felt a shiver run through him despite the warm night. He kept his promise and stood waiting for Harry's return. He was feeling awful about coming here. The whole place was as creepy as hell. He buried his hands deeper into his robes pocket and waited for Harry to come.
It was roughly an hour later that Harry emerged. James stood up a little straighter and waited for Harry as he walked back towards him. In all honesty, James wasn't sure sending Harry into Riddle Manor was going to help him but he couldn't think of anything else. He had hoped that at the very least, seeing the place he grew up with Voldemort might trigger some happy memories and Harry might accept the fact that Voldemort had loved him.
James kept his own feelings on the matter to himself. To think that Voldemort did actually accept Harry into his life and cared for him like a father was hurtful to say the least. But James realised tonight that Harry needed to know the truth about Voldemort's feelings.
James understood the turmoil Harry had been going through. If you could choose to believe that someone you loved never loved you back or that they did love you, even if it was just for a day, what would you want to believe?
James was unable to figure out what had happened in the Manor. He couldn't tell if Harry had got his answers or not. As soon as Harry came to stop before him he took James' hand and apparated back to Potter Manor.
The Manor was quiet and still, Lily had gone to bed as well. Harry turned to the door, intending to leave. He had not spoken a word to James but the way he looked at him was enough for James to know that Harry wasn't mad at him, he was just lost in his own thoughts. Harry stopped at the door and for a moment he stood still, his hand still on the handle. Abruptly he turned and walked over to James. Without saying a word to him, Harry enveloped his dad into a hug. James was momentarily stunned. This was the first time Harry had ever initiated something like this towards him. James wrapped his arms around his son as well.
"Thank you." Harry whispered to James before letting go of him and leaving the room without looking back.
James smiled.
"Happy Birthday, son." He replied under his breath, as Harry left the room.
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Okay, I know this chapter was really emotional but it was needed. I promise though that the emotional stuff is all done with. Remember what I told you all before the ending to Darkness Within? 'calm before the storm', just consider this as something of the same warning. (hehehe!)
Please review! Cheers!!