Disclaimer in Chapter 1.
Chapter XIX: Playing Human
THE BOY WHO CANNOT DIE?
Harry Potter, who was recently acquitted of all charges in the Julie Peverell case, is no stranger to this humble paper. He has repeatedly shocked us with his frequent and quiet accomplishments, and we should all be used to his blatant disregard for the word 'impossible' by now. We all know him as the wizard who defeated Voldemort last summer, but our recent series of articles has unearthed a massive amount of people whose lives have been changed personally by this young man. We have published verifiable, first-hand accounts of this enigmatic and heroic youth collapsing entire mansions in on themselves, locating and rescuing kidnapped victims in a matter of minutes, stunning a half-dozen fully grown wizards in the blink of an eye and taking on the most dangerous and deadly magical beasts and beings with a casual grace that has left us breathless. Each story grew more unbelievable than the last, and more than once this reporter caught himself wondering just what it would actually take to stop a wizard as powerful as Mr. Potter.
Last Saturday afternoon, the Wizarding World seemed to have found that answer. Several dozen eyewitnesses in the Wizarding village of Hogsmeade confirmed that Harry Potter was defeated. The general consensus, after watching our hero be crushed by a number of boulders each as large as a full-grown wizard, was that he died at the scene along with an unidentified wizard who was murdered directly afterward in a grotesque manner. The rocks were removed immediately, but the broken and bloody body of the Boy who Lived had no visible signs of life when checked by the arriving Aurors. This reporter was not alone in mourning the inevitable, and the Wizarding World prepared itself for the worst.
Two days later, Harry Potter was confirmed by multiple sources as attending classes at Hogwarts once more. He was not limping; he had no casts or slings, no bruises, no signs of surgery and no diminished capacity for magic or theory, if his classmates are to be believed. His only significant change was a slightly more cheerful disposition, as absurd as it sounds. There was not a single scratch on him, no sign of any injury at all. He'll resume flying as a Seeker for the Gryffindor Quidditch Team later this week as well, as soon as the full-time medi-witch at Hogwarts has given him a clean bill of health.
The total elapsed time between Mr. Potter's defeat in Hogsmeade and his first class Monday morning was a mere 41 hours. This reporter broke his ankle in three places whilst running from a jinxed suit of armor during his Hogwarts years, and it took the better part of two whole weeks before he was cleared to walk without support. But Harry Potter went from 'dead on arrival' to 'right as rain' in two days flat? Every single healer and medi-witch that this reporter has spoken to says that a recovery like that is impossible. Not improbable, not unlikely. Absolutely, 100-per-cent medically and magically impossible. We are reminded once again that Harry Potter simply doesn't do 'impossible'.
Mr. Potter has been unavailable for comment on this miraculous recovery, but this reporter no longer wonders what it will take to stop him. This reporter wonders instead if Harry Potter is immortal.
It's quite impossible, of course, but what should that matter to the Boy who Lived?
Dennis McDougall, special contributor to the Daily Prophet.
Draco Malfoy threw the paper into the fireplace with a muted curse. He paced as his frustrations voiced themselves. "I defeated the savior of the wizarding world, something that Voldemort himself couldn't even do when the boy was too young to wipe his own arse, and they didn't even have the decency to put my name in the article! All they talked about was Potter and how wonderful it was that he didn't die from the beating I just gave him! I admit it's impressive that he's already back on his feet, but how the hell am I supposed to strike fear into the hearts of the public if my name never appears in print?" he seethed as he ran a hand through his blonde locks.
Lucas Winters smirked as he leaned back in his chair. "Harry himself isn't at Hogwarts, that's a given. Ms. Weasley has informed me that an Auror named Nymphadora Tonks is masquerading as the Boy who Lived and pulling it off with impeccable style. I'm quite impressed, actually, because she's also assigned to close protection for Ms. Weasley. It's convenient, isn't it? But there's no possible way that Harry's recovery is complete yet. I've monitored his recuperation before, remember. I was watching the fight through your eyes, after all, and he was on the brink of death when you withdrew your hand. They simply can't let Harry Potter appear to be mortal. It's all in keeping up appearances, so sit down and relax for now. You've done well, Draco, and the people who witnessed that fight are spreading word of the terror even as we speak. Your name will soon be spoken in hushed whispers. They will know what you've done, and they will fear you for what you have yet to do."
"You do have a compulsory bond over me, you know," Draco smirked as he sat beside his master. "You don't need to stroke my ego; I'll still be forced to obey without question, smiling all the while if it makes you happy. Why not beat me, or punish me for no reason at all? It's what Voldemort would have done; what any dark wizard would have done."
Dr. Winters waved the insinuation away with a casual flick of his wrist, rolling his eyes. Draco insisted on referring to him as some sort of 'dark lord', as if he were simply the next Voldemort stepping up to have a go at the wizarding world. How petty. "I don't care what those third-rate magicians 'would have done'. Does this look like a dark wizard's lair? It is comfortable; you have every amenity that I provide for myself. I don't have a dungeon, I don't care for thrones. I want nothing to do with your so-called 'dark wizards'. Their only goals were to sow chaos and anarchy. How would they reign over a world that has fallen apart? I want this world whole and intact. They were fools, and they're dead because of it.
And besides, they would have beaten you to establish fear and control; dominance, in short. I have no need of such trivialities thanks to the ring I gave you. I want you to be proud, unwavering and confident in your abilities, not broken and timid and constantly hesitating with worry about upsetting your master. I plunged you into the fire for a reason, and I wrought my masterwork inside your mind. You are my tool now, Draco, and only a fool would damage his own tools. Instead I have tempered and sharpened you, and you will serve me for as long as you live. You will be remembered for as long as history is read."
Draco nodded his head with an indulgent smile, leaning forward in his chair. "Before I wore your ring, that single sentence was all you promised me; that I would be remembered. So I trusted you, and you have proven yourself infinitely worthy of that trust. You have taught me amazing things, even gifted me with the knowledge of your family's research. With nothing more than that, I could create an army that would sweep the entire world. You have given me everything I have longed for and more. Even if the compulsory bond was lifted, I would serve you unquestioningly. You have been good to me, Master."
Dr. Winters smiled over at his disciple, noticing the curious look on his face. He was biting his tongue as if his thoughts were not as readily heard as his voice. "Ask, Draco. You need no permission."
Without even bothering to look ashamed, Draco quickly responded, "My apologies, Master. I just wanted to know... why you told me to return to you during that fight. Why didn't you let me kill Potter? He's not going to let this lie."
After a moment's thought, the brown-haired wizard nodded. "You probably won't understand my reason, but I'll indulge you this once; Harry Potter exists on a level above you, just as I do. It would've been a tragedy to allow him to die by your hand, even if it were by my command. You were just there to put my ring into Ms. Weasley's bag, which you succeeded in. When I saw Ms. Cameron with them... well, let's just say my hand was forced.
"You couldn't possibly comprehend my pain, Draco, because you've never been peerless." His brown eyes grew unfocused as he gathered his myriad thoughts. "From an early age, my father conducted numerous magical experiments on his patients. The very best techniques refined from those experiments were then used on his own children, even as they were forming inside the womb. I was born into this world as the first of a new breed; a better wizard."
Dr. Winters held up a hand and clenched it tightly, staring at the muscles and veins that made up his fist. "It is unfortunate that none of my father's other children survived the womb as I did. I was born without peer, and my father died unable to replicate his success." He stretched out his hand, as if fascinated by something just under the surface. "You were mediocre in your past life, so there were those around you whom you could look in the eyes, or even look up to. I hope you understand what a gift that is, because I... I can only look down. It is an exceedingly lonely place."
"During the Sengoku Period of Japan, which was in the 16th century, Takeda Shingen and Uesugi Kenshin were legendary rivals who -among other places- fought several battles at Kawanakajima, in modern-day Nagano. These muggles were referred to as 'samurai'. They were warriors and diplomats, gentlemen and barbarians in equal parts. One winter during their heated battles, Kenshin's troops fell short on rice and salt. Rather than capitalizing on his enemy's weakness, Shingen sent an envoy to Kenshin with enough rice and salt to last the winter. He provided his mortal enemy with the means to continue fighting him throughout the winter. It's interesting, isn't it?"
He met his disciple's eyes patiently as he explained, "Do you understand why he did that, Draco? Because facing an equal in battle was more important to him than being victorious. It was more important than his life. For nothing more than a few hundred barrels of rice and salt, Takeda Shingen was not alone in this world for an entire against Uesugi Kenshin was the only thing that made him feel alive. It was the only thing worth waking up for. And so it is with me."
Draco stared back at his master with a strange confusion quirking at his lips. "You don't realize how mad that sounds, do you. You say you're just lonely, that's why you're doing all this?"
With a nod, Dr. Winters continued. "It's an oversimplification, but it serves my purpose well enough. To clarify; I don't care about the rest of the world, Draco. Everyone else... they're just peasants. Just cattle, waiting to be slaughtered. I get no thrill from killing them, except in the artistry involved. There's no challenge at all. They're worthless, mediocre; content to live their lives day to day and eke out their small-minded pleasures. They're barely even human."
The hair on Draco's arm stood on end as the brown-haired doctor gathered his magic around him. He'd seen such displays from his master on several occasions, but it never failed to amaze him. The man had an astounding magical capacity, the likes of which the young Malfoy had never seen before. As far as Draco knew, the man didn't even bother with minor details like needing a wand. He'd never used one in view of his disciple, but somehow the magic just happened anyway.
"But Harry..." Dr. Winters continued, pulling steadily on his magic as his excitement grew, "Harry Potter has been touched by greatness. He is truly a monster. He might be the only wizard I've ever found that can challenge me, test me. He is a wizard that can meet my eyes."
His magic surged as he scowled, pushing against the walls as it strained to expand. The fireplace flickered restlessly. "But when I found him, it was all too easy to capture him and bleed him to nothing; he was weak. He was far weaker than I remembered... I agonized over it for weeks until I reached an epiphany: They tamed him. Hogwarts, Ms. Weasley, even Sirius Black. They tamed the greatest monster the world has ever known, collared him and wrapped him in human skin. He will never satisfy me in such a state. So I will cut away his shackles."
Draco shook his head at his master's musings. He was hoping to make Harry Potter more powerful? It made no sense at all, but he'd humor him and listen. It was the least he could do.
"I will sever his budding humanity, and then I'll let him run away and lick his wounds. When he's fully healed I will send for him. And when he comes... we shall meet in a battle of equals. And that, my disciple... the anticipation of that day is already setting my nerves on fire." Dr Winters grinned widely as his magic pulsed. He was happy, inordinately so. He couldn't even be bothered to contain his power when he got caught up thinking about Harry Potter.
Draco found the man's obsession with the Boy who Lived almost obscene. But who was he to question his master's will? The bond ensured that he loved his master more than his own life, but he allowed Draco to keep enough of his free will to think his own thoughts. The blonde-haired boy would gladly suffer through a few torturous minutes of dramatic flair in thanks.
"I will have my challenge, Draco." Dr. Winters continued, still staring vacantly out into space. He licked his lips and his eyes grew intense. "I will face my equal, my legendary rival, and I will savor every single moment of it because until that moment I have not yet lived, I have not yet felt fear. Only Harry Potter can excite me like this. Only Harry Potter can make me come alive. Killing him will be the only real challenge that this life will ever hold for me, and it will be the saddest thing I'll ever do. I already despair over it."
Draco sighed into his hand, shaking his head at his master's melodramatic words to hide the very real edge of fear creeping up his spine. Dr. Winters looked so incredibly bored all the time that seeing him actually focus on something was raising his hackles. If he were not already his master's tool, he would have been terrified of the intensity in his gaze.
"So be patient, my disciple. You should savor such an anticipatory thrill; you will not feel it often from now on. Soon I will meet Harry Potter on the field of battle, and my entire life will be lived inside that confrontation. And when the day is done, I will mourn. Because I will have killed the only wizard I consider my equal, and after that fleeting thrill of victory fades... I will be alone once again." Dr. Winters stood up and began pacing, unable to sit still any longer while contemplating his pain. His disciple, as indispensable as he was, would never understand the despair that lurked underneath his skin. Draco would never understand an agony so keen that it could cut every inch of color out of life. His was a joyless existence, a life in black and white, and now his salvation was very nearly at hand.
"After my misery has dulled to a slow ache, together we will scorch the world in search of another wizard touched by greatness. And if, by chance, we find someone else who can look me in the eyes, I will meet them in battle as well. For nothing more than the fact that for that fleeting moment, I will not be alone in this world. I care for nothing else except that instant, that touching of souls." It was the truth, pure and undiluted. What did the lives of peasants matter to him? They were insignificant; none of them could fill the void inside his chest; the very real knowledge that something was missing from his life.
"This ambition of mine is selfish, and I embrace it gladly. If it can quell this loneliness inside of me, even for an instant, then I will gladly watch the world burn. And you, my dear Draco, will be holding the torch."
The first thing Harry Potter saw when he regained consciousness was the familiar ceiling of the Hospital Ward at base. He'd spent many nights here, and it was almost comforting to see the pale blue ceiling and the harsh fluorescent lights. A sound from his right side drew his attention, and his blurry eyes shifted to observe. A blurry black shape was moving up and down rhythmically.
Harry took a silent inventory of his body. He was aching all over, and the left side of his face was incredibly tender, but everything appeared to be functioning within normal parameters.
After blinking several dozen times to clear his vision, he realized that the blur in the doorway was Sirius Black, doing pull-ups by his fingertips on the doorframe. His godfather was holding his breath.
"Sir, you should not hold your breath when performing anaerobic exercises. It can spike your blood pressure and lead to ruptured blood vessels and unconsciousness," Harry informed him seriously.
At the sound of his godson's monotone, Sirius dropped nimbly to his feet and rushed over to his bedside. "Harry!" he exclaimed, wrapping the black-haired Gryffindor in a tight hug. "You're awake! You're alive!"
"Affirmative," Harry agreed reasonably.
"Quiet, you. It's been six days, you know... I've been worried sick!" Sirius hugged him more tightly as he sighed in relief. "I'm just glad that you're healing so well; you were barely alive when we found you. There's no medical explanation for it."
The Auror let him go and said, "Harry, you have no idea how close you came to dying. Seeing you like that... You've done enough. You know that, right? All this time, I'd been training you to beat Voldemort, and you did. You won. And now you're free to do whatever you want. You don't have to keep fighting; you never have to pick up a wand again if you don't want to. You can live however you want. You've earned that right a thousand times over. So please... don't do this to me anymore."
Harry's throat constricted tightly as he looked up at his godfather, "I'm very glad you care, Sir. It means more than you know. I can't think of anything I'd rather do, but I promise I'll think hard about it until I know for sure. Will that be enough?"
Sirius nodded at him, finally cracking a smile. "Of course, Harry."
"Will I be able to go back to Hogwarts soon?" the Gryffindor asked.
"Just as soon as you're given a clean bill of health. Tonks has been filling in for you, so don't expect a huge party." Sirius grinned and hugged him again.
"I've never seen the point of parties, Sir," Harry informed him. "I've never had one before."
A wispy frown flitted across Sirius' face, but it was quickly replaced by an eager grin. "We'll fix that. This year, I'll throw you the most enormous birthday party the Wizarding World has ever seen. 17 years worth of parties crammed into a single night. Just you wait, Harry! I'll invite the whole of London, I'll invite the PM... Hell, I'll invite the Queen! We'll celebrate in style!"
Harry smiled up at his godfather in amusement. It was a relief to see him so animated again.
The Boy who Lived returned to Hogwarts with high expectations. His memories of the last week were hazy at best, but he knew that he dreamt of Ginny. Nothing but Ginny, the entire time. It kept him alive, it made him wake up.
He had to tell her.
His search didn't last long. She was eating breakfast in the Great Hall, in her usual spot. Auror Tonks had been relieved of duty twenty minutes ago, with Harry taking over her responsibilities as close protection for the only daughter of the Minister of Magic. Feeling an uncomfortable twist in his abdomen, he neared the youngest Weasley's seat and said, "Good morning, Ginny."
"Oh, good morning Harry. I didn't see you there," she said without looking up. She sounded preoccupied, but there were no reading materials spread out around her. With a small smile, he skimmed her surface thoughts; she was getting irritated about her period coming up, she was angry with Professor Snape for giving her two whole feet of remedial work on truth potions and she was consciously reminding herself that the Harry behind her was a fake, so she didn't break down and cry in his (or her) arms.
"I believe it was you who told me that I should never be sorry for crying," the black-haired Gryffindor recalled with a widening smile.
Ginny froze for just a moment, and then she launched herself at Harry and clutched at him tightly. "You're back!" she hissed excitedly. He could tell that she was trying very hard not to jump up and down. He felt an electric thrill shooting up his spine as he hugged her; he had missed this feeling immensely.
"Can we speak in the hallway?" Harry asked, meeting her eyes eagerly. He didn't want to waste another minute on trivialities; he felt compelled to tell her everything that his newly-discovered emotions had been screaming.
They left the Great Hall quietly, and it was still early enough in the morning that an adjacent hallway was entirely unoccupied. "Muffliato," Harry muttered, casting the privacy charm around them. He didn't want any eavesdroppers listening in on this conversation, it felt strangely personal and private. That was a very new feeling for the Boy who Lived, who was used to a lack of privacy that most of his classmates would find appalling.
Much of what he was feeling was entirely new, and that's what made him so eager to share with his best mate. "Listen, Ginny," he said, grabbing her by the shoulders, "I've been unconscious for a week, you know, and the entire time I was dreaming of you. I woke up thinking about you, and you haven't left my mind for a moment since then. I'm not sure you ever will."
Ginny's eyes grew wide as the words slipped out. Her jaw hung open and she looked both confused and incredibly shocked. Harry didn't know what that meant, but he wouldn't let it deter him. "Look, I know I'm young and I know I'm inexperienced with this, but when I look at you I feel this... 'power' is the closest word to it. There's this intense energy that I've never felt before, and it arcs into me every time I touch you. It's overwhelming. I'm still not certain what love is, but I know without a doubt that it applies to you. I love you."
So it's finally come to this, has it? How the mighty have fallen... A whisper filled her head. Say exactly what I tell you, Ms. Weasley. I daresay this will be the most important thing you ever do. Ginny's eyes, which had been glued to Harry's during his babbling confession, flickered upward and lost focus momentarily. It was him.
Her whole body tensed up and her head twisted slightly as a stream of thoughts entered her, and then her eyes fixed on Harry again. Her shoulders relaxed under his hands.
Harry's heart was pounding hard; he could hear it beating as his breathing grew heavier. Both were common signs of nervousness. He didn't know much about this sort of thing, but he felt like something big was about to happen and his body was reacting accordingly.
"I am ceding from your social network, Harry." Ginny said evenly. Her master's voice gave her the words to say, and she recited them dutifully.
Whatever response the Boy who Lived had been expecting, it certainly wasn't this. He frowned in confusion as her voice echoed in the cavernous hallway. What had just happened? Had he just broken some cardinal rule of relational expression?
Ginny continued, ostensibly unaware of Harry's redlining heart rate, "You're a dangerous and unstable weapon, Harry, no matter how good you've gotten at playing a student like the rest of us. I can't possibly love somebody like that. It was fun while it lasted, but I don't think we should be around each other anymore. In fact, it'd be better if you left Hogwarts entirely. What if you had an accidental discharge here?"
Harry felt his magic building rapidly alongside his panic, but he violently repressed them. He had to think quickly. This wasn't how it was supposed to go... His newfound emotions were welling up, bursting inside of him painfully. They were overflowing, spilling over; he couldn't begin to describe it. He struggled to maintain an even tone and a calm demeanor. He couldn't react rashly now, he had to reason with her. There had to be a way to negotiate.
He nodded along with her words, which usually facilitated a sympathetic connection in the other party that allowed for leniency in their demands. "You're right, of course. I am unsuited to living a normal life. But I thought... with you, that is, that I could try. You felt something for me, Ginny, I know you did. Did that mean nothing?" He gripped her shoulders tightly, silently begging her to see the situation as he did.
"Of course it meant something, Harry," she explained patiently, her eyes as calm and untroubled as he'd ever seen them, "but I never planned on anything long-term. There can't be anything long-term with someone like you. You were a brilliant distraction for a while, you really were, but it's time to wake up. You said you love me, but you're not capable of love. You said it yourself, didn't you? I'm a normal person, and you... you're not even human. You're a monster, Harry."
His heart twisted angrily inside his chest as his eyes burned with unshed tears. He was breathing harder now, and he couldn't keep his magic from boiling to the surface. It was building incredibly fast, faster than it'd ever gone before. The ambient temperature in the hallway rose noticeably as beads of sweat accumulated on his forehead. He couldn't understand how she could be so collected when her words were lancing through him like bullets. He couldn't possibly ignore this type of pain; it seethed and roiled and pitched in his stomach, it grew rapidly and rose to constrict his throat. His pulse hammered at his temples as he tried desperately to contain himself.
Ginny's voice rang out over his internal thrashings like a bell, "Harry, you need to go. You're hurting me, and you're going to kill us all if you let go of your magic here. I could never love a monster like you. Please go."
With a jolt, Harry released her shoulders as if her touch had burned him. "I'm sorry. I'm so sorry Ginny... I didn't mean to hurt you... I would never..." He stepped away quickly, not stopping until he was pressed against the opposite wall.
His eyes never left her, and the hurt in them was visible even from a distance. His voice had never sounded so weak, and Ginny ached to comfort him. But her master had more for her to say to the Boy who Lived, and his voice soothed her anxiety instantly. "Don't apologize for hurting people, Harry," she explained patiently. "It's what you were born to do, after all. It's all you're capable of."
Harry looked into her eyes and read her surface thoughts. Pity. The only emotion she was feeling at that moment was pity.
His face contorted with pain, he couldn't stand it for another second. He recoiled from her, turned and ran. He was around the corner and gaining speed, but even as he nearly tripped over his own feet he knew he couldn't run fast enough... His hand dove into his pocket and he pulled out his shrunken broom, enlarging it and kicking off as hard as he could. The wind screamed around him as he tore off down the hallway and spiraled up into the stairway. His eyes searched frantically for a window, any exit at all.
Her words echoed in his mind. I could never love a monster like you...
He had to escape... He had to retreat and regroup. But more than anything, he needed to get as much distance as possible between him and the source of those indescribably painful emotions. He had to get away...
He banked sharply and ducked his head, passing easily out of an archway. As soon as he was clear of the castle, he gripped the broom tightly and tore off at top speed. The air-repelling charm engaged, causing the wind to silence instantly. Hogwarts disappeared in a blink, and the countryside blurred as he pushed his broom harder and harder, until he broke the sound barrier with a massive clap.
Ginny watched him disappear around the corner in a flash, and her heart broke for him. She got the sudden feeling that she'd just done something unforgivable. Her brow wrinkled in confusion. What had she just been saying? Her master took away her uncertainties with a whisper, and her face relaxed into a smile as she felt his happiness resonating through her bond. She could almost feel him grin, even though he was hundreds of miles away.
You have done well, Ms. Weasley. I am most pleased. Her smile widened at his praise, and her steps were light and happy as she returned to the Great Hall to finish her breakfast.
The sound of a distant sonic boom echoed through the corridors.
Harry was laying flat on his back in his training area after once again emitting an enormous magical storm. The effort hadn't even exhausted him this time; now that his reserves had been drawn upon he could sense that they had increased a substantial amount, at least 10 percent. And for a wizard whose magical capacity was already as high as Harry's, that was a very significant increase.
This was both confusing and alarming: He had been assured that his magical capacity had stabilized by now, that it would reach a certain level and increase no further, but this directly contradicted every assurance he had been given. There was no logical explanation for it. He would usually feel elated at such a beneficial surprise, but he couldn't draw his attention away from Ginny for even two consecutive thoughts.
He was in shock over her recent change of heart. What had happened? She wasn't lying; he saw that much in her eyes before she turned away. Her affection for him was gone. She had no feelings for him beyond pity. And now... now he was left with this enormous level of emotion. He was hurt, angry, shocked, frustrated, and he felt a rising wave of panic. He had to find a way to reverse this, to make things like they were even a week ago...
No. She had informed him of her decision, and he would respect that. She was free to associate with whomever she chose, and she had chosen to remove him from that group. Even as the logical centers of his brain repeated this information, the emotional centers were welling up with despair. She was gone. She'd broken her promise and abandoned him. He was just no good... her words echoed in his head. He was just a weapon, and he'd dulled himself on this child's game. He was just playing at being human like the rest of them. He was a fool to think that he could live this sort of life. A fool to hope that he had a choice in the matter.
His vision blurred as his tears spilled over; he couldn't sit around drowning in his emotions, he had to get up and do something or he'd go mad. So he portkeyed back to base and went straight to Sirius' office. He knew what he had to do, and he knew it had to happen now.
Harry knocked at the door, letting them know that someone was coming, and then entered the room. Tonks was sitting across from Sirius; he hadn't even finished debriefing her from her mission posing as Harry.
"What's wrong, Harry?" Sirius asked as his godson stood rigidly at attention.
Harry tried desperately to get a handle on his emotions; they were shameful and undisciplined... Auror Tonks was there, and although he didn't know her well, Harry felt incredibly self-conscious as he replied, "I am... injured, Sir."
Sirius shot out of the desk and grabbed him, searching for a wound. "Where are you hurt? I don't see anything."
"I don't know, Sir..." The Boy who Lived said quietly. He pressed a hand to his chest, curling his fingers and digging his nails into the flesh, "it's around here somewhere..."
Sirius' eyes softened. Without another word, he wrapped his godson in a fierce hug. Tonks quietly disappeared, and he was glad for it; he would have to finish debriefing her after this. Harry came first, every single time. Sirius shushed the boy as he began trembling.
Harry broke down completely. He lost every tenuous grip on his emotions as he clutched tightly at his godfather. His wailing cry sounded completely alien; he'd never made noise like this before, but now it seemed as natural as breathing. There was no better sound to express the aching grief he felt.
He buried his head in Sirius' shoulder and let out a muffled scream as his tears flowed freely. His entire body was tense and shaking, his hands clenched convulsively. He was no stranger to pain, he'd probably felt more of it than most in his life, but this was an entirely new sensation. There was no resisting this; no bandage could stem its flow. There wasn't a potion in the world that could take away the pain that resonated from his newfound emotions. They swirled inside his chest, and they ached with a fire that he'd never felt before and would gladly never feel again.
Never feel again... The thought struck him like a hammer: He'd never needed emotions before now, why was he so open to feeling them if they could hurt him like this? He had to remember how he'd been before, when life was a mission and pain was easy to ignore.
He'd had quite enough of being a noncom, anyway.
Gripping his godfather by the shoulders, Harry pushed himself upright and steadied himself on his shaky legs. He closed his eyes and inhaled, long and slow, through his nostrils, and then inch by inch he straightened. His heels slid together, his legs tensed, his back hardened, his hips and chest jutted out. His shoulders squared, his jaw set, and then his eyes snapped open.
Freedom...
Sirius watched curiously as Harry straightened up, and he caught the blaze of concentration that sparked from his eyes as they opened. He blinked, and by the time his eyes opened again the fire was gone. He looked just like he did before he had received his mission to attend Hogwarts. Just like that, as fast as tapping off a light, his godson reverted.
Something dark roiled inside of his stomach at the sight. "Harry?" he asked tenuously, searching his eyes. Not now... not after all this...
His godson simply stared out at nothing, just like he always had. Just like Sirius had taught him, so many years ago.
And suddenly his hands were gripping his godson, shaking him and squeezing him forcefully. "Dammit Harry, no! I know it hurts, I know it's unbearable, but don't go back to the way you were before! Don't run away like this! Stand up and face it, Harry!"
Harry just stood there rigidly at attention, not even acknowledging the fact that his godfather was clutching at him so fiercely. He's been making such good progress. What happened?! Changing angles abruptly, Sirius released the Boy who Lived and sat on the edge of his desk. "Very well. At ease."
Harry snapped to position, still staring out over his Godfather's head. "What happened," Sirius asked pointedly. His godson would know what he meant by that.
The green-eyed boy's response was delivered in his signature monotone. "I was instructed by Miss Weasley to leave her presence and Hogwarts. I am disinclined to argue with her, as she gave very rational arguments for my immediate withdrawal. Please allow Auror Tonks to continue in my place."
"What did she say, Harry?" Sirius was already dreading the answer.
"She simply pointed out that I am best equipped for direct action missions. I have not been trained in social protocols, I do not blend into the local populace inconspicuously, and I am becoming too unstable to allow around such large groups of people. My magical discharges are happening with greater frequency, and it is an unnecessary risk to subject the students of Hogwarts to." His godson's words were terse and sharp, but it didn't answer his question.
"Her words, Harry. What did she say to you." The Auror in Charge of Executive Protection felt his blood pressure rising. If that little girl had told his godson to leave... If she'd broken his heart...
"I told her that I loved her, Sir." Harry said quietly.
That raised Sirius's eyebrows, certainly, but it still didn't answer his question at all. So he just continued to stare at his godson levelly until he continued.
"She replied by stating that she was ceding from my social network. She said I was a dangerous and unstable weapon, no matter how good I've gotten at playing a student like the rest of us. She said I would kill them all if I let go of my magic inside the school. She said she didn't think we should be around each other anymore, and that it would be better still if I left Hogwarts entirely." Harry's face remained remarkably expressionless as he recounted his utter rejection. How can he say such things so calmly? his godfather wondered as he stared perplexedly at the stoic boy in front of him.
"She said she never planned on anything long-term, that there couldn't be anything long-term with someone like me. She said I was a brilliant distraction. She said I wasn't capable of love. She said I wasn't even human. She told me that I was... that I am a monster. She said she could never love a monster like me." Finished with his summary, Harry stood silently and awaited further instruction. His face betrayed no sentiment at all.
Sirius winced. Those were incredibly harsh words to hear, especially if they were from a boy's first love. He knew that his godson was lacking in several departments, but Ginny's words felt more like a personal insult. It was his fault that Harry was so mechanical, after all.
He felt the full weight of his guilt pressing in on him, and his shoulders slumped noticeably. His actions had been in the best interests of the wizarding world... but the wizarding world was just an intangible phrase. You couldn't touch the wizarding world, hug it, watch it grow. His godson, however, was his family. Family was worth fighting for, worth dying for. And he'd forsaken him. He'd sacrificed the son to avenge the father. He'd been consumed with vengeance, consumed with the 'greater good'. What good could be greater than protecting the only family he had left?
I'm so sorry James... I failed you. I promised you that I'd look after your son; I promised that he would be my blood and my breath. How could I have allowed this to happen?
"If I may, Sir..." Harry interjected, breaking his thoughts. "You are not responsible for her actions. I maintained eye contact throughout the conversation; she was not under the Imperius Curse, nor was she lying to me. This is her decision, and I will respect it."
"What do you want to do, then?" Sirius asked hesitantly.
Harry hesitated, opening his mouth and closing it again without uttering a word.
"Go ahead and speak freely, Harry," the auror said encouragingly. "Whatever it is, you've earned it. Would you like an extended vacation to clear your head and get some perspective on this? Majorca is brilliant this time of year."
"I want to return to active duty." Harry's response was instantaneous.
Sirius faltered. That was the worst possible thing he could've asked for. "But that would mean not going back to Hogwarts."
Harry didn't look surprised or put off by the idea. "I am aware of that, Sir. It is my intention to not return to Hogwarts. In my opinion, the mission in Hogwarts is detrimental to my operational readiness. I am a weapon, and after considering my knowledge, skills and abilities I find that I am unsuitable for the mission. It is dangerous for me to be there, now that my accidental discharges are becoming more frequent; my senses also fray noticeably after prolonged exposure to these noncoms. I do not mean to question my orders, but I don't understand what I could possibly learn at Hogwarts that would be beneficial towards my future missions."
The last of the House of Black exhaled in defeat. Future missions? Was that what he thought this was about? "It's not about missions, Harry. I just want you to learn to breathe. How to smile, how to laugh... How to live. But it's your decision. If you don't want to go anymore, just say the word."
"I've already said it, Sir." Harry said evenly. His voice was as hard as it had ever been. "If there is room on the roster then I respectfully request that you return me to active duty immediately."
Sirius rounded the table and sat at his desk slowly. He'd lost. Things were going so well, but Harry had completely reverted. He was back to being a weapon, back to being nothing more than a tool. Sirius felt tears welling up in angry pinpricks, and he didn't have the strength to fight them anymore.
Harry averted his eyes as his godfather wept quietly; it was unbecoming to stare at a man during a moment of weakness. It was also unwise to attempt to comfort an officer. Since protocol did not allow for a course of action, he took no action and remained at ease. His mind was busy working over his potential schedules, which were all blissfully normal and devoid of distractions. He had wasted far too much time already on this foolishness, this 'playing human', and he'd have to make up a lot of ground.
He had finally pushed away the emotions that had been plaguing him since he'd started attending Hogwarts. He'd finally returned to his calling, his life. He wondered if he should feel excited about it, but shook the thought off with practiced ease. He had no need for excitement. It elevated his pulse and respiration unnecessarily. He was well-trained, and in full control of his faculties for the first time in what seemed like forever. He was calculating, with nothing frivolous in his actions.
His Hogwarts career seemed a lifetime ago already. He was a warfighter, and he was finally going back to where he belonged. He was finally going home.
Okay guys, two chapters and an epilogue to go. They should come rather quickly, as I've already outlined and started on both chapter 20 and the epilogue. I had to; a plot hole had to be filled before I could release this chapter. I've also been hard at work on a ton of other things, some of which will require your input. That's right, readers, your input is required!
To be honest with you, I've actually been putting off work on this story, simply because I don't want it to end. My first stories were far less popular than this one has been, and I've grown to love the number of hits I get each chapter. I get the feeling that my next stories won't be near as popular as this one, no matter how hard I work on them. It's terrible, I know, but can you really blame me for craving acknowledgment? That's the main drive people have for posting on this website, if you think about it.
So to help garner more support for my next projects, I'm going to ask you all which project I should work on next. This is with the hopes that you will all read my next project, and the next one, and so on until someday I might wake up and suddenly be a writer worth publishing.
A lot has happened since my last update, not the least of which has been the death of my dream of Military service. With that goal completely unreachable, I've decided to focus on a dream that might be just within jumping range. In other words, I want to become a real author. For that, I'm going to need a LOT of help. So here are some plot ideas I've been toying with. Please review this chapter thoroughly, as there won't be many more of them, and also tell me which of the following plots you would be interested in reading next, my dear and oh-so-appreciated readers!
1: Harry Potter, fourteen-year-old orphan and recent expellee of Stonewall ___'s Delinquent Reformation Program, is being kicked out of his adoptive parent's home. As he packs his bag, he finds a curious letter addressed to him from several years past. An admissions letter from Minerva McGonagall, the Deputy Headmaster of Hogwart's School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Having nowhere else to go and no other living relatives, he sets out to find this mysterious school and make it his home.
There is a slight problem, however. When Voldemort gave him the cursed scar that fateful Hallow's Eve, he took something of the boy's in return: his magic. Harry James Potter—the Boy who Lived—is a muggle.
A story about heart-pounding, gut-wrenching action and the overwhelming strength of the human spirit. With a generous three-finger pinch of romance sprinkled in for good measure.
2: The complete version of We Sort Too Soon, from birth to death. Based on my short story, but told in full and in person. No journal entries in this one, I promise!
Go read We Sort Too Soon for the synopsis! It's short!
3. I've never done anything this shameless, but somehow I've gotten it in my head that a Neon Genesis Evangelion self-insert would be a great idea. So if you'd like to see how my fourteen-year-old American self would fare as a pilot in the Japanese world of Evangelion... But be warned, there will be lots of angst. Drama, action, forbidden love and a conspicuous lack of Mary Sue-ness. Here's a hint, of sorts: I was an angsty child with a keen understanding of his own shortcomings and a real knack for finding the most romantically incompatible and disinterested woman possible and falling madly in love with her. I have the journal scribbles to prove it!
4: A story about what would've happened if Naruto was put on a team with Hinata and Ino, led by Kurenai. A story about a teacher who will actually teach him, and teammates who will become the closest thing to family that Naruto Uzumaki will ever find.
These stories will all be longer than Learning to Breathe, and the chapters will come much faster since I am now going to be devoting a very good portion of my life to my craft, rather that simply using it as an emotional release. I plan on writing all of these eventually, but I'd like to start with the one that more readers will prefer. As a fifth option, I can write the first chapter of each of them so you can all see the tones of the stories and judge from there.
In any case, I'll be attempting to make a career out of this writing stuff. Wish me luck, if you would be so kind, and stay tuned!