July 31, 1996
I made a huge mistake, Harry thought the moment he saw the smiling faces of the over dozen people in front of him in the garden of Burrow. His attempt at a smile went awry as he looked constipated more than happy as he waved at the crowd and turned around. "Abort. I repeat, abort the mission."
Lupin and Tonks gave him tired but amused smiles before the metamorphmagus pushed him towards the long table Mrs. Weasley had prepared. "It's too late to back out now, shorty," she quipped.
"Hey! We are the same height," Harry complained as he pouted.
Tonks smirked and grew an inch with a wink. "No, we are not."
"I hope the weather is burning hot up there," Harry grumbled and gave into his fate, turning around and making his way to the tables. "Hey, everyone."
Not that Harry didn't want to celebrate his birthday with friends but after spending the day in the cursed house of Blacks', he wasn't in a happy mood. He had, with the help of Tonks and Lupin, combed every inch of the house for valuables and books. No one could blame him for his mood.
That house is fucked up.
He didn't regret the decision though. The library alone was worth it, not to mention the little things like the letters his parents wrote to Sirius, the letter Sirius wrote to Harry and other sentimental belongings.
He had shed more tears than the time he had spent four days without food because he turned his teacher's hair blue. How could he not after reading letters from his parents to Sirius?
The letters from his father were especially hard on Harry.
Whenever people talked about James Potter, they talked about how fearless and joyful he was. Or if it was Snape, how arrogant and foolish he was.
No one told Harry about the James Potter who would jump and draw his wand at every sound in case it's Voldemort. There was no mention of the James Potter who had spent his nights awake, guarding the two most precious things he had. James Potter he heard about hadn't cursed himself for bringing a child to such a dark life.
The letters the married man sent to his best friend, his secret keeper in every sense except the one everyone thought, showed a new and different side of James Potter. It painted a picture of a father Harry was proud of.
Because people were wrong; James Potter wasn't fearless. He was brave in the face of his fears. So much so he would face one of the most powerful wizards in history without a hesitation just to give his family a few more minutes.
They were wrong; James Potter wasn't joyful. He wore that mask just so his wife and son could breathe easier and live happier.
Lily Potter's letters were only marginally better than her husband's. There were fewer mentions of her fears and no mention of a regret for cursing a child with life. Instead, there were mentions of dead friends and burned houses and missing people. Her letters painted a lovely picture of Lily Potter, a young, caring and thoughtful woman who would never give up fighting as long as there is a star in the sky.
Those letters, though, opened Harry's eyes to another side of this war.
The young boy had been aware war was a bad thing and witnessed firsthand what it could cost. Yet, a part of his mind always considered this a war between Harry, Dumbledore and the Order against Voldemort and Death Eaters.
But his mother's letters told stories of innocents cut down and women raped. It told how families would perish in a cursed fire as their house fell on top. The stories had been an awful realisation that the war, his war wasn't his at all. It was the fight of a whole community.
And Harry cursed the gods and fates for putting so many people through hell while they were alive and deserving of heaven. And he vowed to become the best wizard he could be so he could put an end to this madness.
Harry had been emotionally spent and in a fighting mentality when he had ascended the stairs, only to lose his mind when he heard the shrill voice of Walburga Black.
The young man couldn't remember what he said exactly as his memory was fuzzy but the next moment, he was standing in the office of the Lord. The office Dumbledore and Sirius had spent so much time searching for.
He cleaned out that room too as a fuck you to the unbearable portrait in the foyer.
They had, just before coming to the Burrow, put everything they took from the house into a new vault in Gringotts, accessible only to Harry, Hermione and Dumbledore. The young man was smart enough not to trust anyone but the headmaster and Hermione with the nauseating books Black family collected over generations.
"Harry, are you okay?" Hermione's concerned voice brought Harry out of his introspection. He realised, even with no conscious thought, how beautiful she looked in her red summer dress that complimented her brown skin. And showed a torturous amount of cleavage that made you want to see more with no hope.
He gave a jerky nod and put a forced smile on his face. "I'm going to... take a shower. I am dirtier than a Snape after a bad month," he joked, but it fell flat.
He didn't care enough to attempt another one, so he turned around and hurried into the house and upstairs to the shower. Neither he cared enough to get out of his clothes before he activated the water conjurer/heater thingy he always forgot the name of.
No, the only thing he cared at the moment was washing away the dirt he felt and the burden he had. He didn't know how long he stood there, under scalding water, with his eyes closed, but it had to be a long time. Because when he opened his eyes again, it was to answer the insistent knocking on the door as he stumbled towards it with his fogged glasses. "What?" he snapped as he wrenched open the offending wood, only to come face to beard with Dumbledore.
"I personally prefer to swim in that lovely pond a few hundred yards away," the old man said with a kind smile. The smile didn't last long when Dumbledore realised his audience wasn't in the mood for such trivialities and the old man moved past the door frame. He looked around for a place to sit and conjured two wooden chairs when he found none.
Harry threw himself on the second chair when Dumbledore waved him to do so and sat there in silence and with sagged shoulders.
"Why are you in here, Harry, when there is a delicious-looking cake with, literally, your name on it? I don't believe young Ronald could fight his urges much longer."
Harry looked up at his role model with dead eyes. He didn't want to talk, he didn't want to see the old man, and he certainly wanted no cake. Still, he had far too much respect for the man he thought of as a grandfather to sit in silent disrespect. "I found the letters my parents wrote to Sirius while they were in hiding."
"Ah," was all Dumbledore could say before Harry spoke again.
He let out a deep breath and put his head between his hands. "Intellectually, I always knew war is a bad thing and Voldemort is dangerous man, but until today, this was my war and Voldemort was detrimental to my health. I never realised how many people he had hurt during the first war and will hurt in this one until I, a schoolboy, defeat him. It had always been kill or be killed. Not save the innocent or watch as they perish." He looked up with pleading eyes, begging for guidance. "How can I go out there and eat my cake and laugh while people are dying because I'm too weak still to defeat him?"
Dumbledore sighed, removed his glasses and pinched his nose as he thought before he leaned forward on his chair. "I have no magic words that will make your burden disappear, my boy. Only thing I can offer you right now are sympathetic ears and vague advises. I know your burden, Harry, but I also know there is nothing you can do about it yet. That prophecy tells us you will be the one to end this reign of terror Tom has put us under. I know it is a daunting prospect, and I know firsthand how powerful Tom is. But I also know you can succeed where I failed and accomplish even more. Maybe not yet, but you will defeat Lord Voldemort and save countless lives."
Harry shook his head, not only to deny Dumbledore's faith in him but to fight the tears burning his eyes and making things blurry. So weak, he heard the ghost of Voldemort say. How can you hope to defeat me when all you can do is weep as you realise how powerful I truly am?
"Until then, you must allow us to fight the battles while you prepare to win the war." The old man let out an explosive breath and looked Harry right in the eye as a lone tear escaped his. "This burden, it is not yours to bear alone. We all must do our parts in this war and it is not your job to worry about the lives lost."
He left his chair and kneeled in front of Harry's, putting his hands on his young charge's shoulders. "Listen, Harry, and listen well. You are not responsible for them. I am. The ministry and the aurors are. Not you. No one could begrudge you a moment of happiness. On the contrary, we must hold on to these moments of peace and joy as hard as we can."
Harry couldn't fight the tears anymore, they demanded release. He felt powerless amongst titans; a mere toddler with the faith and fate of so many people on his shoulders.
He held onto his mentor's robes as the man hugged him to his chest and rocked him. Held on and allowed himself to stay weak just a moment longer.
He decided he would do as Dumbledore said. Harry would walk down to the garden and have the best birthday of his life and laugh despite Voldemort and just to spite him.
And when the sun would rise the next day, he would put a lock on his weakness and become the man that would defeat Voldemort. The man Dumbledore thought he could become.
It was a lighter and drier Harry that left the bathroom and joined the anxious group outside with a genuine smile on his face and Dumbledore on his tail. "What's with the long faces? This is a party, people, not a funeral."
He couldn't help but snort at the awkward reactions of his friends as they looked at Dumbledore with confused and unsure faces. The elderly headmaster just smiled merrily and sat on a chair he conjured with a flick of his wand.
Harry snickered at Headmaster's serene attitude, matched by Luna, as he sat down at the seat put aside for him right next to the biggest cake he had seen. "The cake looks delicious, Mrs. Weasley, thank you."
The red-headed woman seemed unsure how to respond but Ron didn't. "Can I eat it now?"
Ron being Ron eased the tensions all around and earned laughter from everyone. Harry gave an appreciative nod to his best mate as his best friend admonished him for his insensitivity, earning a new round of chuckles from everyone.
As Harry looked around, he realised the disrespect he showed so he jumped out of his seat. "Ah, forgive my rudeness, Mr and Mrs. Granger. Or is it Dr and Dr. Granger?" He shook his head to reorganise his thoughts as he moved towards Hermione's parents. "Sorry. Thank you for coming."
"Nice to meet you, son," Daniel Granger said as he shook the young wizard's hand.
"Nice to meet you too, sir," Harry responded before he turned to Hermione's mother. "I must say, I can see whom Hermione got her beauty from." He leaned in towards the woman and said in a stage whisper, "Though I still don't know about her hair."
"You mock my hair," Hermione jibed with a smile, "When you call that birds' nest on your head, hair?"
Harry bristled in faux-indignation. "I'll have you know it's a part of the Potter charm. That and the arrogance, or so Snape claims."
Hermione laughed, and it caused her chest to bounce a little, torturing Harry, as her mother joined the conversation. "Thank you for the compliments, Harry. And I'm so glad to meet you. Hermione talks highly of you," she said with a sly grin.
Harry copied her grin and sniffed. "She does, does she? To be honest, I'm not surprised. I'm something of a celebrity and have many fans. I always suspected Hermione was one."
"Did you just call me a fangirl?" Hermione asked in a sweet voice and Harry shivered at the reminder of Umbridge.
"Maybe," Harry answered unsurely, glancing around for an escape route. "I also called you beautiful, but you focus on the 'fangirl' part, you ungrateful... girl, you."
The brown-haired girl grinned as two of them forgot about her parents and returned to their seats. Her grin didn't last long before it turned to a worried frown. "Are you okay, Harry? You looked... What happened in Grimmauld Place?"
"Later," Harry whispered and smiled gently. "Don't worry about it. Though I will tell you this, I found what I will give you for your birthdays for the rest of our lives."
"What?" his best friend asked with furrowed brows.
"I cleaned out the library and the Lord's office," Harry answered. "And seeing as I don't know the first thing about organising a library, or that I am clueless about what most of those books say..." he trailed off with a smirk as he watched Hermione's eyes widen.
"But Sirius said some of those books have curses on them, dangerous ones," she said, though her excitement was visible.
Harry gave a careless one-shoulder shrug. "I'm sure it will be hard; learning how to break curses. It might even take you a month."
"Where are they now?" Hermione asked with the hunger for learning Harry loved in her eyes, shaking from excitement. "Are they here?"
Harry snickered, joined by Ron who was listening to them even while he talked Quidditch with Neville. "I brought a few with me but the rest is in Gringotts. Oh, that reminds me." He searched for Lupin around the table and found him in a whispered conversation with Tonks, their bodies inches apart though both had a predatory stance. "Hey, wolfie!" he called out, earning a glare from the wolf and a snort from both Hermione and Tonks. "Throw me Hermione's key, will ya?"
Lupin grumbled under his breath as he threw the key harder than he had to.
"Hey, now. Play nice or I'll have Tonks put a leash on you. I have a feeling she'd enjoy it," he joked with a sly grin and enjoyed both of their red faces.
"Fuck you, Potter," Lupin growled, but it was offset by the rise of the corners of his mouth in amusement.
"Ah, man! I'm so sorry. Is it your time of the month?"
Lupin just huffed and turned back to his conversation only to find Tonks laughing silently at his expense.
"Here you go. You may have surmised it's a Gringotts' vault key. All the books are there, plus anything else of value we found," Harry told Hermione as he held out the key for her to take and shivered. "Only you, me and Dumbledore allowed in there, so keep it safe."
"That bad?" Hermione asked as she hesitantly took the key.
"I took a cursory look at some books. Nasty stuff. And when I say nasty, I don't mean 'sacrifice a virgin'. I mean 'boil a foetus with some onions, add a heart of a unicorn and some peppers, stir thirty minutes and eat it,' level of nasty."
Hermione's eyes widened before her face whitened in disgust. "That's sick!"
"Yep," Harry said with a cheerful smile. "I understand why Sirius bailed on his family at the first chance he got and how Bella ended up the way she did. Hell, I'm surprised Andromeda ended up a somewhat normal person."
"I can't believe I'm saying this, but why not burn those books?"
"I will," Harry informed her with a solemn nod. "But not until this war is over, and then not until you tell me which books to burn, which to keep hidden and which to put into my library. We may need the knowledge in those books, as awful as that sounds. Not to use it but to find a weakness in Voldemort's methods. Besides, not all the books are dark. There are books in there about everything from healing to household charms."
Hermione's eyes went between Harry's and the key in her hand and back. "Okay," she said with a shaky nod and gulped down the residual revulsion.
"That was masterfully done, Mr. Potter," Ann-Marrie, Hermione's mother, congratulated.
"I don't know what you're talking about," Harry said and looked away. "I wanted to make my friend happy and have her help me figure out what to do with some books."
"That's no doubt true, but the timing is suspicious, don't you think?" said Hermione's father with a booming laugh.
Hermione's expression went from confused to affronted in an instant. "If you think I would be distracted by the promise of books, you are mistaken, father," she informed them with a sniff and a raised nose.
Her mother winked at Harry and patted Hermione's hand from across the table. "Sure, honey. We all know books are only papers that are being wasted."
"Says the woman who reads almost as much as me," Hermione shot back and pointed two fingers at her parents. "And why are you two mocking me? I'm your daughter, you should support and protect me from wicked, wicked boys."
"Me? Wicked?" Harry said indignantly. "Point a sweeter, more well-behaving boy than me, you witch."
Hermione looked around and nodded towards Ron who was trying to consume a chicken without chewing or cutting it to pieces. "You may have a point there."
"Hey! I'm just as sweet if not sweeter than Harry," Neville complained as he joined them and sat next to Harry.
Harry patted his friend in the back as a welcome. "Pfft. You fart and snore in your sleep."
"You Judas! We promised what happens in the dorm stays in the dorm. How could you betray such a sacred promise?"
Harry shook his head and leaned back with a grin. "I don't think this is what Seamus had in mind when he made up that rule."
Neville screwed up his face in disgust, Hermione mirroring that. "Ugh. I don't know how you can share a room with him."
Neither boy answered though they both agreed with the girl.
The afternoon continued on the same vein, people joined their conversation and drifted away to talk to someone else. So it wasn't surprising that Harry's smile didn't dim throughout the day. If anything, it got brighter the more he talked and joked with his friends.
He loved these people; from the spacey Luna with her boundless imagination to Neville who had emerged out of his shell since Dumbledore's Army formed. From always hungry Ron to fiery Ginny and adventurous Bill. They were the closest thing he had to a family, and he realised he would choose them all over again in a heartbeat.
And he would fight for them and kill for them and die for them. Not because they would do the same for him, but because they deserved nothing less for the friendship and loyalty they offered him. This small group of big hearts was why he would win.
Let Voldemort and his servants stand in his way; Harry and his family would never give up and never bow down. And they would show the noseless bastard with the ego the size of Britain what true power is.
The group ate the cake and enjoyed fuzzy drinks with minimal alcohol in them as Harry was surrounded by friends who demanded he open his presents. He did so with a wide grin and shiny eyes.
Harry started with the gift the members of Order had gotten him together; a wand holster and books on self-defence and complicated defensive charms. He put them aside with a note to remind himself to buy a portable library when he went to Diagon Alley next.
The next was a survival kit from Moody with everything from a tumbler that detects any hazardous liquid to a self-igniting grill that never burned food. He rolled his eyes but thanked him as the retired professor returned to his vigilant guarding of the party.
Tonks' gift was next, and he grinned widely when he saw a book, How to Make Your Lady Happy. "Are you trying to tell me something, dear Nymphadora?" he asked with a leer.
"Yes, that you need to get laid," the shifter shot back as her chest got larger in her shirt.
Harry felt no need to hide his enjoyment as he enjoyed the new physique of the woman. "Are you offering?"
"In your dreams, Potter," she shot back.
Harry put a hand on his chest and a faux-fearful expression on his face. "How did you know? Are you stalking me at night to listen to my sweaty dreams, you pervert?"
Her only response was to grin and shot him a saucy wink that had Harry choking on his own saliva, much to the amusement of everyone.
"I thought you might enjoy the challenge," Lupin said to Harry before giving the boy two notebooks with detailed notes on their animagus training and the creation of Marauders' map.
Harry thanked the man purposefully as he caressed the book with his father, Sirius and Remus' handwriting all over it, ignoring the parts clearly written by a fourth, treacherous person.
The next gift from Lupin was something Sirius had been working on until his untimely death. A box with things the escapee thought Harry needed to put colour into his life. A note on how to use the Marauders' map on the amorous mode that showed available spots a couple may choose from. Three bottles of different alcohols. A book on charming ladies. A small box of condoms and contraceptive potions. Even a few rolls of what Harry thought was marijuana.
He ignored the snickers coming from the boys, the indignant sniff from the Weasley matriarch and the glare from Hermione. It was Ann-Marie's reaction he focused on. "Why, I haven't enjoyed one of those in years."
"Wait, what?" Hermione turned to her mother with shocked eyes. "You used to smoke weed?"
The beautiful brunette shifted in her seat as she looked at her grinning husband for help and found none. "Who said anything about weed? I meant the condoms."
The younger brunette's shock turned to confusion. "What?"
"Speaking of which, what is it with you Blacks and my love life?" Harry asked Tonks to change the subject after throwing a wink at Daniel.
"It's just so sad for such a lovely young man to still be a virgin," Tonks quipped with no shame.
"Who says I'm a virgin?"
"You are not?" Hermione asked, surprised and hurt, though Harry did not understand why.
"I am," Harry confessed with flaming cheeks. "But she didn't need to know that," he whispered harshly.
As everyone laughed at him, and with him, Harry turned his attention back on the gifts and opened the one from Dumbledore and McGonagall. He didn't understand why his school booklist was a gift but opened it nonetheless, only for two golden badges to clunk at the table as they fell.
Hermione was the first one to react, snatching both badges and turning them over to inspect them as Harry leaned in to glance at his badges with an exasperated smile. "The one with the 'C' on it is the captain's badge," Hermione said as she passed it to him, her excitement overshadowed by her curiosity. She pointed at the one with two black wands and a silver shield. "I don't know what's this though."
"The faculty agreed to recognise Defence Association as a sanctioned study group," Dumbledore explained with twinkling eyes. "That is if you'd like to continue leading my army, Harry."
Harry latched on to the joke quickly and rose to his feet to salute his mentor. "Yes, sir, supreme leader Dumbledore, sir. I'd be honoured."
"At ease, general," Dumbledore said with a grin as everyone around them laughed.
Harry sat back and grinned at the headmaster. "We'll need to change the 'unofficial' name, won't we?"
"Indeed. While I'm honoured by the loyalty you all have shown, we wouldn't want people to think I'm training child soldiers to fight in my name."
"Yes, it wasn't the smartest decision we made last year." Harry waited a moment before he put his hand on his chest dramatically. "You're just trying to take advantage of me as an unpaid teacher!"
Dumbledore grinned at him, his eyes shining with the humour of the moment. "And I would have gotten away with it too, if it weren't for you meddling kids."
The reference went over the heads of everyone except the Grangers and Harry. "Really, Professor? Scooby Doo?," Hermione said disappointedly and shook her head. "You are far too old for this…" she trailed off, abandoning her own reference midway through.
"You know, I just realised how often Voldemort must have said something similar about three of us." Harry grinned wide and pointed at Ron and Hermione.
"Mostly you," Ron grumbled in good humour.
"We just tag along until the boss fight," Hermione joked, agreeing with the redhead.
"Don't say that," Harry admonished. "I'm nothing without my sidekicks."
Hermione snorted while Ron smiled, shook his head, looked down and sniffed. "I hate you, Potter, you glory hog. Why did you have to get the best nemesis?"
"Because I'm the handsome one between us. Everyone knows it's the hero who looks the best," Harry answered without a pause, raising his nose haughtily.
Taking Ron's silent grin as the end of the conversation, Harry turned his attention to the small Weasley pile, leaving Hermione's gift for the last. This pile had the usual sweets and sweater by Mrs. Weasley, and Harry had, to his embarrassment, teared up a little like he did every time he received a sweater. It's disturbing to think how much I value these little tokens of acceptance. I'm a Weasley, not born and raised, but adopted.
From Bill, he received two books, one on Egyptian runes and one on curse breaking, or as Bill called it; Harry's beginner pack for his future career as a curse breaker. Harry thanked the red-head purposefully and cursed himself for not taking ancient runes instead of divination. It's as good and option as becoming an Auror is.
Fleur's gift shocked him to silence like it did the rest of the group; a book on sex-based magic written by a veela for her kind. Not just about spells and potions to increase pleasure and fertility, but about simple rituals that involved sex, like blessing a field of crops. "It feels like you people are ganging up on me," he joked once he gained control of his faculties.
Fleur grinned unrepentantly and flicked her hair, causing it to flow around in a silvery hue. "Your future wife will zank me."
"I'm sure she will," Harry said, refusing to give into his reflexive desire to glance towards Hermione.
He turned his attention back to the unopened gifts, going for the ones the twins sent as they could not leave their shop. Hermione stopped him by gripping his arm with enough strength to leave a bruise. "I think we should leave those for later," she said in a strained voice. "We don't need those troublesome redheads to ruin the day with their pranks without even being here."
Harry snorted but followed her advice, carefully putting the box with three 'W' on it aside. He opened Neville and Luna's gifts next, a book on plants with healing properties from the former and an odd set of earrings from the latter.
After thanking the duo who looked friendlier towards each other than ever, he turned his attention to the gift from Ginny and Ron. The star seeker of the Gryffindor team quite liked the protective gear with lightning bolts on them two redheads gave him.
And finally, it was time for the one gift that excited him the most, and Harry did not understand why. It's not like Hermione hadn't been sending me gifts since the first Christmas after we became friends. Still, he couldn't deny the rapid pace his heart set as he reached for the neatly wrapped packet, a book or books if the shape was any sign.
It was two books, one named The Book of Five Rings, the other The Intentional Stance.
Harry turned to Hermione with a quizzical expression, asking, without words, why these books. He had received nearly a dozen books so far from the girl but they were all about magic except for the one he received at the start of the summer.
She shrugged and stayed silent, a small smile on her lips, daring him to read and find out. Challenge accepted.
After the gift opening was over, Mrs. Weasley gave everyone a piece of cake and small groups formed to talk about everything and anything from the war to Quidditch.
Harry, he stayed out of the groups and strolled the garden with a burning question in his mind. Why did everything about Hermione had become so important suddenly? Since when did he care whether she spent time with her family when last year, he didn't even think about her family? Why her gift made him nervous even before he opened it? And most importantly, since when her smile made his heart flutter and his mind go blank?
Love?
It was a valid option, but one that fell short of being the full explanation. Love didn't explain the sudden need he had to read the books she gave him as soon as possible. Or why he wanted to share everything about his life with her and listen to all the details of her past and her plans about future.
What a fine pickle I find myself in again.
Still, he would enjoy this new focus in his life, whatever the reason and consequences. The brown-eyed girl with the scariest memory ever had suddenly become the most interesting person in his life. He'd be damned if he didn't give enough attention to her.
He looked up at the sky, finding the dog-star with no conscious effort, and had to laugh when the star shone brighter for a moment before dimming. Harry accepted the magic of the moment, unwilling to consider that blink anything but a wink from a smiling Sirius. What's so funny, you dirty dog?
He understood the joke when Daniel Granger joined him in star gazing, standing next to the boy in silence for a long time. Neither man had the heart to disturb the peace as they watched the wonders of the universe and listened to the wondrous laughter coming from their friends.
There was no war in that one moment they shared, dentist to destined. No room for dark thoughts and ugly reality.
"I wanted to thank you," the tall man broke the silence after ten minutes.
Harry turned to the man and asked in a whisper, unwilling to disturb the moment more than he had to, "For what?"
"Hermione was so worried about you, we didn't have the heart to say no when she insisted on coming here," the loving father answered and glanced at the boy. "It feels like we are losing her to a world we can have no part in and we miss her."
Harry smiled at the man, seeing a part of Hermione in him and liking him more for it. "She's trying to adjust to and fit two sides of her together, but with everything going on, it's hard on her. Give her time and I'm sure she'll find a balance."
"I know," the dirty-blonde man said with a grin. "She's stubborn. Won't rest easy until she found a solution." He waited for a breath before continuing, shifting on his feet. "I also know it was you who convinced her to spend time with us. Not that she didn't want to, but she had other concerns."
"Family is important," Harry told the man in a strained voice. "She knows that. She needed a little nudge so she could enjoy her time with you without feeling like she abandoned me to my grief."
And that was that. The two men, one dentist, the other destined, returned to their silent contemplation and star gazing.
Their serenity didn't last long before the laughing female Grangers noticed their absence and dragged them back to the celebration.
It was a magical night Harry would cherish throughout the darkness ahead.
| O |
August 8, 1996
Any trip with the Weasley clan was an adventure and excitement in and of itself. It was no different as they, with Harry, the Grangers and three other Order members in tow, entered the alley through Leaky Cauldron. Such a group was bound to attract attention, which was why it surprised no one as people stopped with raised eyebrows at the sight of such a diverse group.
Then the gawking began and the whispers and the finger-pointing followed soon after when people realised their 'chosen one' was amongst them. With him a contingent of redheads, brunettes, a metamorphmagus, a veela and a known werewolf. Harry sighed and tried to ignore them even while their hopeful expressions tugged at his heart.
He failed when a small girl squealed and looked at him with her wide, brown eyes and a toothless smile.
The young boy tried, hard, but failed and smiled at the adorable girl and winked at her.
The girl ran away, giggling, as the crowd took courage from his personable action and closed in on them, turning the already narrow alleyway even more claustrophobic.
Their claustrophobia didn't last long thanks to the aurors the ministry sent for protection who dispersed the gawkers after a few minutes. The group decided to split up, Harry and Grangers to the bookstore with Tonks and Lupin while the Weasley clan would buy the other necessities. They agreed to meet up at Fred and George's shop.
Harry breathed a sigh of relief and smiled when he realised Hermione was hugging his arm and hadn't let go as they made their way towards the bookstore. That smile didn't leave his lips when Hermione dashed away the moment they entered one of her personal heavens. He didn't know how he failed to admire it until now, that joy in her eyes when she was surrounded by books.
Mrs. Granger patted him on the arm, rolled her eyes and followed her daughter at a more sedate pace.
Harry did his own perusing for a change, to see if there is a book that captured his attention. He had never, and probably would never, be an avid reader. He preferred to learn on the go, like how he had mastered the Patronus charm. But he knew he couldn't leave things to chance anymore. If he had to defeat Voldemort, he had to know his limits; his strength and his weaknesses.
He couldn't rely on luck and his friends and his biggest asset couldn't be the experiences he gained thanks to his death-defying adventures.
No, Harry had to know what spells he could cast, how fast he could cast them and for how long he could use magic without tiring himself. He had to know what type of magic he was best at and what type of magic he sucked at. He had to improve on both as he incorporated them into his fighting style.
Dumbledore was a master of transfiguration, and it showed in his duel in the ministry when he expertly manipulated his environment to defend and attack. Voldemort was a master of the dark arts and battle magic, and he more than proved it in the ministry when he used them to wear down Dumbledore's defences.
As they left the bookstore, Harry marvelled at the weight of his bag and shook his head at the limited selection of books the store had. He had found only two books, other than his school books, that seemed useful.
Harry and Hermione entered Madam Malkin's clothing store with only Mrs. Granger, the rest opting to wait outside, and found it empty at first glance. Until a most hated voice came from behind a rack of dress robes that is. "I'm not a child, in case you haven't noticed, mother. I am perfectly capable of doing my shopping alone."
Madam Malkin felt it necessary to defend the irritants mother, "Now, dear, your mother is right. None of us is supposed to go wandering around on our own anymore. It's nothing to do with being a child-"
"Watch where you're sticking that pin, will you?!"
Draco Malfoy, with his blonde hair sticking to his forehead, appeared from behind the rack, wearing an expensive looking dark green robe. He strode to the mirror to examine himself; admire himself. A long moment passed before he noticed red-faced Harry and Hermione's presence and his eyes narrowed.
Neither Harry nor Hermione could hold their laughter in any longer, not when Malfoy's expression turned pinched and paler than normal. So they laughed without reservation, knowing the entertainment was over now that the ponce realised them.
"If you are wondering what that smell is, Mother, a Mudblood just walked in."
Harry and Hermione just laughed harder, ignoring the confused and indignant look on Mrs. Granger's face. "Ah, Draco. You are always good for a laugh," Harry said when his laughter subsided and cleaned his eyes at his sleeve after taking off his glasses. "You made my day, man."
The blonde sneered, hating being laughed at but not understanding why he was laughed at. "What are you talking about, Scarhead?"
"Nothing," Harry answered, still giggling, as he led Hermione towards a chair with a hand on her back. "Absolutely nothing." He motioned for both Grangers to take a seat before turning his attention back to the blonde boy.
There was an awkward silence as Malfoy looked as if he wanted to say something but didn't know what before his mother and Madam Malkin joined them. The aristocratic looking blonde woman looked at the three interlopers and raised her nose as if she smelled shit before turning at the plum owner. "It's such a shame to see once a fine establishment serving the scum."
"Oh, no, my lady," Harry said with a wide smile, "Your husband and his friends don't shop here anymore. They prefer prison uniforms now."
"Don't talk about my father like that, you filthy mongrel!" the younger Malfoy hissed, his pale face reddening in anger.
Harry turned to the boy with a raised eyebrow and visibly drew his wand. He knew better than to stay unarmed in front of a potential enemy.
Hermione latched on to his arm immediately to stop him from doing anything foolish. "Harry, you mustn't. You'll get in trouble."
Draco, seeing the exchange, couldn't help but sneer and goad Harry. "What are you going to do, Scarhead? Hex me? You don't have the guts to face another inquiry like last year."
Harry chuckled and looked at Malfoy over his glasses, a move he witnessed Dumbledore use often when he wanted to intimidate someone while still giving off grandfather vibes. "I think, dear Draco, you overestimate my intelligence." He stopped and screwed up his face. "No, wait. Let me try that again." He drew a deep breath and spoke in a low voice. "I think, dear Draco, you underestimate my stupidity." His head dropped, so did his shoulders. "That didn't sound right either."
He shook his head and winked at the boy's mother. "I'll have to get back to you with a witty response at a later time, Draco. For now, sit silent while the grown ups talk. Now, where were we? Oh, yes, your incarcerated husband. How is Lucius these days? Still has his soul? Not that he had much to begin with."
Narcissa Malfoy's expression didn't change except for a small twitch upwards in the corner of her mouth that betrayed her amusement at Harry's short stand-up. Now that Harry had a moment to take in her appearance, he realised she looked paler than the last time he saw her and had dark rings under her eyes. She still looked utterly gorgeous to his teenage eyes though. "You shouldn't speak of things you don't understand, Mr. Potter."
From her seat, Hermione squeezed his arm, either to calm Harry or share her amusement. If it was the first option, it was redundant as he was enjoying himself, though such a reaction was contrary to his usual level of composure so he understood her reflex. "Don't go breaking my heart, now," he said with a lazy grin, his guts telling him this was nothing more than a banter for either of them. His blonde schoolmate seemed to think differently if his dark expression was a sign. "Anyway, let us speak of more pleasant topics. How was your summer? Any guests in that lovely mansion of yours?"
The daughter of Black family chuckled coldly, a cruel smirk gracing her lips. She's hot, even while looking like a well dressed corpse. "You must find out for yourself and you will. We look forward to hosting you."
Harry raised an eyebrow at the veiled threat and put away his wand. "My, my. Aren't you a hospitable woman?" he asked before suddenly turning serious. "Isn't it tiring? If it were me, I'd want a break from playing host, especially with your social circle. I'd want to go on a vacation on a tropic island and work on my tan."
Mrs. Malfoy's smirk faltered, eyes widening in surprise, but she composed herself quickly and put a hand on her son's shoulder to lead him out of the shop. The son looked at his mother in surprise and hurried out of the robe he was wearing. "That's the difference between us, Mr. Potter," Narcissa Malfoy spoke in a smooth voice. "We don't shrink from our duties."
"Heh, duties. I'm Sirius Black's godson; for me, duty is just a word people who don't know how to have fun use as an excuse. We, the good guys, are good at doing the right thing and have fun and look good doing it." He smiled, this time considerably softer than before as he remembered the man he had spent so little time with yet left such a big impact on his life. "Speaking of my late godfather, he mentioned this wonderful island he had a small hut on. He couldn't shut up about it. I plan to rent it until this unpleasantness is over, so if you end up deciding to take a vacation, remind me to check my estate records."
"Already planning an escape from the Dark Lord, Mr. Potter? What would your adoring fans say?" the blonde woman asked, her sneer returning with full force.
"I've never been the one to care about their opinions, but still, I'm not going anywhere. The Dark Lord knows where to find me if he's so inclined to face me," Harry answered, not knowing where his bravado was coming from. "Now that you mentioned, he's been uncharacteristically quiet this past month. I wonder if his injuries are worse than I first assumed?"
The older lady just chuckled and left the store with his son in tow, leaving Harry disappointed at her lack of answer. She could have at least given me a clue.
"I'm confused," Hermione said as Harry turned to her, her facial expression agreeing with her words. "Did you just flirt with, insult and offer assistance to Malfoy's mother in the span of five minutes?"
"Not flirt," Harry denied vehemently, shaking his head to add credence to his words. "Never that. I may be a teenager that admires a body like hers but I'm not that desperate. Can you imagine that cold woman in bed? She'd either eat my... you know, or it'd be no different from necrophilia."
The brown-eyed beauty snorted at his description. "Yeah, I don't know which is worst, her or her husband."
Harry nodded in agreement and shuddered. "Those two make sense in an odd way, don't you think? Both functioning psychopaths, cold and unfeeling. No wonder poor Draco grew up to be so screwed in the head."
It was then Madam Malkin interrupted them nervously, wanting to get rid of the people who would say the name of the most feared man in the Britain so carelessly.
Their clothes shopping didn't take long, even though Harry bought new clothes for himself at the urge of Mrs. Granger, thanks to Madam Malkin's offer to owl them. Harry thought about insisting he get his clothes now just to see what would the tense woman say, but didn't. It wasn't in his blood to play with people like that.
Rest of their shopping trip went by with no problems. Weasleys' Wizarding Wheezes was an obnoxiously colourful place and Harry had to give it to the twins, they knew how to market their products. Though he did pause and wondered the morality of selling love potions. I must talk to Hermione and the twins about that.
The only excitement during the trip came in the form of youngest Malfoy, again, when they saw him sneak to Knockturn Alley without his mommy and followed him to Borgin and Burkes, a store specialised in dangerous artefacts. They watched and listened as the boy threatened the owner and told him to keep the 'another' one of something safe.
Harry was of two minds about what Malfoy was doing. He wanted to learn more because he was sure the boy was planning revenge but it was too hard to give a damn about a ploy of someone like Draco Malfoy. The blonde was an irritant at best and a headache at worst.
Now, his father, blonde ponce Sr., would worry me. The last two times that arsehole tried something, he either let loose a bloody basilisk or he sat a trap for me and my friends.
| O |
August 18, 1996
Harry was having an epiphany as he watched Ginny throw a worn-out quaffle and speed across the orchard to catch it again; passion turned him on.
For the last month he spent in the Burrow, he had continued to work on both forms of meditation, which meant a lot of contemplation and soul searching. Especially about the subjects of girls. I am a teenage boy; a war isn't enough to change that.
With his confusing reactions to Hermione's presence and actions, he had began to wonder what made her different, what made him react to her differently. So, he looked at the only relationship he had, if one could call the train wreck between him and Cho a relationship.
The first time he noticed Cho had been on the Quidditch field when the dark-haired beauty had tried everything she could to win the game. She was not only hungry for success; she was gorgeous doing it.
So, it was understandable for him to place her at the top of his list of girls to fantasise about. She was passionate about something he loved and was objectively beautiful.
Then he wondered what changed to make his infatuation go away. It was obvious in hindsight, and it wasn't the tears or the sadness, though they hurt her case more than helped. What cost her his interest was the way she abandoned her passion. On Quidditch field, he first admired her, and when she lost her… drive about that, he lost his interest.
Harry didn't like this realisation about himself. Oh, he hated it. Not only because it made him appear heartless, like he was a fair-weather friend, it meant he didn't have the one quality he looked for.
He, a boy who spent most of his days lazing about and doing nothing, was looking for passion as a primary quality in a girlfriend. Bah, I'm a hypocrite.
In all honesty, he might be a little hard on himself. He was passionate about Dumbledore's Army, but mostly because it made him feel in control. He liked Quidditch, a lot, but seeing Ginny train as hard as she was, put it in perspective.
I need a hobby, something that will help me grow. Something that I will go back for more at every chance I get, not because I have to but because I wanted to.
He shook his head and focussed on what this new revelation meant to him. Did he fancy Hermione because she was an inherently passionate girl? And if so, why now and not before? Hermione hadn't changed all of a sudden. She was the same girl she had been for the last year and the year before that.
Did I change then? Why is it that idea of dating Hermione went from 'she's like a sister' to 'yes, yes, oh lord, yes?' And how can I be sure this isn't a temporary infatuation like with Cho?
Oh, how he missed the days his only concern was smuggling a dragon or stopping Snape from stealing a magical artefact he was never even after. No hormones, just plain old childish stupidity.
Still, he had to admit he enjoyed this infatuation or whatever it is he had with Hermione. It spiced things up. And frankly, he was enjoying the changes in himself. For him to calmly trade insults with Narcissa Malfoy, flirt with Hermione and cry his hearts out to Dumbledore… It was freeing, like he had set free a part of him he had unknowingly locked away in the deepest pits of his personality.
His musings were interrupted, thankfully, because he had a lot of those lately, by Mr. Weasley, who was enjoying his one of rare off days. The man had been working on his new job so long and hard, Harry was sure he would soon drop from exhaustion. "Are you enjoying the view, Harry?" the kindly man joked, nodding his head towards the apple of his eye and his only daughter.
"Do you want the truth or for me to answer like the nervous teenager I am?" Harry asked with a smile, that while was genuine, wavered enough to make the second part of his question reasonable.
"Let's go with the truth. We are family, there is no need to be nervous when you are speaking to family."
Don't go making me cry, Mr. Weasley. "I do enjoy watching her train. I don't think it's about 'her' as much as it's about the passion she has for what she does."
The redhead raised both eyebrows in surprise. "That's a well thought out answer."
Harry leaned on the wall to further take advantage of the protection the house offered from the afternoon sun. "I've been thinking about this sort of things lately, trying to make sense of my emotions and all that rot."
The father of seven smiled pityingly at Harry. "Oh, do tell."
The father of none hesitated for a moment before deciding if he couldn't ask Mr. Weasley, he couldn't ask anyone. "How do you know when you are in love?"
"The million galleon question," the red-headed father commented with a nod and gazed towards his daughter with unfocussed eyes. "My father used to say, 'marry someone you know you'll want even when you hate their guts.' I think it's a good advice, but it doesn't say everything that needs to be said." He shook his head and smiled. "No, the way I see it, love is when you don't feel the need to fill the silence. When you can sit together and just be and still enjoy and crave her company."
"Huh," was all Harry could say.
"Anyone specific you are considering?" the older man asked the younger, no pressure or danger in his tone, only curiosity for the life of one of his sons.
"I find myself changed from last year," Harry answered with, dodging the question for the time being. I am so not ready to make my feelings known and put undue pressure on either myself or Hermione. "And I can't figure out how much and why, or even if I like it."
"You are a teenager, Harry," said Mr. Weasley with a laugh. "You are growing up and shaping into the man you are suppose to be. Even I, at the age I am, change from year to year. That's what life does to you."
"Then how can I promise anyone a tomorrow? How can I tell someone I fancy them when I'm not sure if I will continue to fancy them the next day or month?"
Mr. Weasley put a hand on Harry's shoulder to steer him towards the woods where they could talk privately and enjoy the cooler shades the trees offered. "You do it. Starting a relationship is like finding the right wand. You try a wand and if it doesn't work for you, you try another. Maybe this one doesn't work either, or maybe it works but doesn't feel natural to you, it feels forced. So you try another. And another. And another. You try until you find the one you recognise will be by your side forever."
As he listened to the older man and walked, Harry's eyes kept getting bigger and bigger. "That sounds tiring and full of heartbreak all around."
The redhead nodded while he walked to a boulder like he had put it there and sat. "We all look for a companion, Harry, and we all make mistakes on the road to finding them. Heartbreak and pain are a part of life. Don't fear them, embrace them for what they are: experiences. Experiences that will shape who you are and experiences you will one day tell your grandchildren about, if you are lucky enough to have one, and laugh." He smiled at the boy and patted on the boulder next to him. "Now, why don't you tell me what makes you fearful about this mystery girl of yours?"
Harry did as the man indicated and sat next to him with a sigh. "That's a long list. First, I'm worried I'll make an arse of myself and get rejected. Second, I'm afraid if the relationship doesn't work out, I'll lose a dear friend. I'm unsure whether what I feel is something I can base a relationship on or if it's just hormonal misgivings of a teenager. And let's not forget the added worry of putting a target on her back by dating her."
Mr. Weasley whistled and smiled. "That's life for you, son. Everyone has the same worries and fears. The question you have to ask yourself is, is she worth it? Is she worth the potential pain and embarrassment you will suffer? If so, you would do yourself a great injustice if you don't pursue it. If not, that's your answer, anyway."
Does she worth it? Harry needed to think only a moment to know the answer without a shred of doubt. Hermione is worth all that and more. "The next question is, how I pursue it?" he groaned, putting his head between his hands with a fake sob. "Why couldn't my hormones wait a few more years, just until I dealt with Voldemort for a final time, to kick in? This is so not the time to have added complications in my life."
The redhead next to Harry chuckled. "It's never a good time, yet always is."
"Oh, don't talk in riddles like Dumbledore does, please, Mr. Weasley."
"Now, now, Harry. You'll understand how fun it is once you become a father," Mr. Weasley said in a mocking tone. "How you pursue it? Well, when I first noticed Molly, I gave her a bouquet and asked her for a date to get to know her. But from little clues I gathered, you are already close with your intended. You should, perhaps, make little gestures to show your interest. Nothing overt, just so she'll know you appreciate her, so you can gauge her interest. Little gifts with no value but that of a sentimental kind."
"That sounds… doable."
"It is," the older man agreed. "Harry, you realise this already but I feel like I must remind you. Just because we are at war, doesn't mean you should stop living. That would mean you are only surviving."
Harry couldn't help the bitter chuckle that escaped his lips. "You have no idea how on point, yet wrong you are, sir." When the man looked at him inquisitively, he explained, "I'm guessing you already deduced the prophecy you were guarding last year was about me." The redhead nodded. "There is a line in there; neither can live while the other survives. I literally can't live while Voldemort survives. Fates ordained so," he spat.
Arthur looked at the young boy with sad and pity filled eyes and sighed. "I don't know about you, but I always thought divination was an imprecise and convoluted art. An art should take heed of but allow for a certain literary licence. What I'm trying to say is, listen only to the warning it provides you, but don't live your life according to it. Do what you want and let the chips fall where they may."
Harry nodded to the man and laid back on the stone to watch the clouds pass by, trying to process the advice of the man. Neither said anything, neither had to, and the young boy understood what the experienced man meant by 'not feeling the need to fill the silence'. It was a level of comfort Harry was sure he wouldn't have with many people and, was surprised to find, he had with Mr. Weasley. Harry could be this comfortable with only Hermione and Ron, or he thought so but maybe he could add Mr and Mrs Weasley and Professor Dumbledore to that small list.
And Sirius, if he was still alive.
Still, it was nice to have parent figures in his life, even if they didn't have real ties to his dead parents. I wonder.
Are you pleased with the family I found, Mother?