Paw prints, rain, and reflection
You know how I feel about Jo, would claim to own anything she makes, therefore Harry Potter does not belong to me.
As the cloak-covered boy began the short trek toward the Quidditch pitch, his mind began to mull over the day's events one by one- it felt like an entire week had passed in the space of 8 hours.
Despite his weak excuse for leaving, Harry did not show up to any of his classes.
After such a horrendous morning, the last thing he needed was to be a verbal punching bag for an already incensed Snape. He hadn't been eager to discover what role he'd been cast in regard to the Malfoy situation either.
The moment he had turned the corner from Dumbledore's office, he had slumped against the wall, shoving his hand into his pocket and rummaging for the familiar ragged item.
It was Hermione's voice seeking out for him that made him realise what he was doing.
He had been looking for the mirror, aiming to call Sirius.
That had been the final straw; he had thrust his fist backwards, allowing it to collide roughly with his backrest before scampering off, leaving the brunette's worried calls behind him.
He still wasn't sure how he had ended up on the school field, standing beneath the whomping willow. It had cocked its trunk to the side, analysing his mood, before freezing, silently and charmless-ly granting him access to the secret passage below it.
The sixteen-year-old spent the next few hours there, sheltered by what remained of the shrieking shack, curled up by the unhinged door and running his hands over the faded paw prints scattered across the abraded wood as he attempted to process what had happened.
He didn't want to; he tried to pretend it had never happened. He tried to sleep. He wanted Hermione to hold him; she was probably worried sick. He wanted to forget the whole thing, how it had made him feel—the power, the fascination. Using a water charm and transfiguring a piece of old fabric into a clean rag, he scrubbed his hands until they were raw- as though the blood still dripped down his skin, as though he could wash away what he now feels he did.
He wanted to forget what he saw and how he recognised it, forget about these stupid Horcruxes and their connection to him.
It made sense, he thought, for things to turn sour just as everything started settling.
It was a recurring theme at this point, merely another genre for his nightmares. He would get over it; stop seeing the life fade from Riddles' eyes every time he blinked; stop expecting the inevitable roar of thunder every time light Leaked through the windows.
It would all stop, just like how the sound of Ron clapping his back stopped mimicking the thump of Cedric's corpse hitting the ground, just like how a crowd of students surrounding him no longer took him back to Dumbledore gently leading him through a pack of reporters.
Like how the slightest flash of green no longer held the ghost of Bellatrix's scream whenever a spell passed his ear... how it stopped urging him to seek out his godfather's dying face in a crowd.
Almost, anyway.
Maybe something new would be the key to taking it off his mind.
He laughed bitterly at the thought as he reached his destination, the ground softening underfoot. It had begun to rain.
His mentor stood not far from him, lost in thought and staring in his direction, utterly unphased by the light drizzle that had begun freckling his cardigan. The man's ears perked up as he inched closer. "Harry?" He offered to the air, looking around.
It was mere days until the next full moon; the last thing Remus needed was his best friend's son's drama.
"Harry," The professor repeated, "I can hear you breathing, and frankly, it is quite annoying."
The seeker would have found the reference funnier if he had not had the day he had, but it still managed to make the boy's lips twitch upwards.
"I'm here." He whispered, removing his father's cloak carelessly, only worsening his already dishevelled look. "Hi." He tried, lamely.
"Hi." The werewolf echoed, lifting his wand and wordlessly casting a shielding charm above the pair when the rain grew heavier. "Dumbledore tells me you had a vision-"
"No."
"Harry-"
"No."
The man sighed, closing his eyes for a moment.
God, he must be getting sick of him by now.
"Harry, you have been missing for hours. All I ask is an explanation for running off; you've had the lot of us worried sick." When the boy in question didn't respond, he continued. "You can't just disappear, Harry. We-"
"Why?"
"What?"
"Why?" He repeated, his expression unreadable. "Why can't I run off? Any other student in the castle could, and no one would care enough to panic."
"Any other students don't have dark wizards hunting them down, Harry! Your absence has a habit of meaning danger- of meaning you are in danger. You look as though you've been dragged through the forbidden forest!" The lycanthrope referred to the teen's appearance for the first time.
Harry could tell Remus was exercising every inch of patience he could muster to keep his voice calm; he grits his teeth. "I thought you had decided to take this seriously, Harry? The lessons, the training? This is not the time to be rebellious-"
"Rebellious?" He gawked. "I never asked for any of this!"
"What do you mean you never asked for training?" The ex-defence teacher argued incredulously, waving his hands in frustration.
"Not training- I know I did, I know! I didn't mean-" He groaned angrily, covering his face and painfully rubbing at his eyes with his palms.
Dragging his hands from his profile, he let out a whine at the sight of the older wizard. He looked utterly perplexed, eyes begging to understand him but utterly clueless on how to help. Harry took a breath, trying to organise his thoughts. "I just… I didn't ask for all this pain for anyone. I never asked for a dark lord- or his thoughts or memories! I never asked for a mind that isn't just my own!" He could feel his magic pulse through the air at his outburst, crushing the barrier above him and allowing the pouring rain to assault the two wizards. "I want to help, and I want to keep people safe- but I have no fucking clue what half of the stuff I'm doing is even for! Everyone keeps asking me to do all of these things- but they won't tell me why!" His shouts became sobs as he rambled on; he didn't even notice the figure reaching out for him. "But I do it anyway, and it always ends with this!"
"With what, Harry?"
"Death!" He screamed, yanking at his raven curls with his red-raw fists, "At my hands!"
"Harry, Draco's actions are not your doing. No one-"
"Not him!" He hissed again, letting out another moan as he heard his own tone; he sounded venomous. "I didn't have a vision. I saw a memory; I was in a m-memory- when I touched that ring, it was like a portkey- and I was back at Little H-hangleton, again-" He managed to register Lupin's pained sigh at these words. "But I was in Riddle's h-house, and I could feel, and see, and-and move until-"
"You monster! YOU MONSTER!" The voice roared; it sounded too close. "You're the Devil! The Devi-!"
"AVADA KEDAVERA"
"Until I..."
Everything slowed the moment the dagger penetrated the man's skin, his blood-curdling scream dying on his lips as the scarlet liquid enveloped Voldemort's hands, which he viewed as his own.
"Until I couldn't." His voice was trembling now, sounding so very small, yet so very Harry. He moved to close his eyes, but the images that flashed the moment they shut made the boy physically flinch- the guilt invaded his stomach once more. "I'm sorry... I'm so sorry-" The teen finally whispered through a pained sob, bringing his hands to his hair and tugging at his curls.
"Oh, Harry, no-" Remus argued, clearing the distance between them in three strides. He gathered the broken boy in his arms and held on tight.
He wished it had soothed him, but as soon as the marauder had engulfed him- he was back at the ministry. Kicking, screaming, and thrashing his arms and legs to try and free himself from Remus' hold and charge through the veil after Sirius. The chosen one inhaled, willing his body to relax. He briefly wondered if anything would feel present again.
It was all mortifying, he thought, how vulnerable he had allowed himself to be that day.
No matter what he thought he wanted, he had to be stronger than this.
There was a WAR coming- all he had done was prove he wasn't ready.
Who would be?
Did he even want to be? Or did he know he needed to be?
His eyes felt heavy as the long-time friends pulled apart.
The older man brought a hand to the younger's cheek, his mind far away from rain-soaked clothes and Horcruxes.
Perhaps this moment lacked presence for both of them; maybe Remus' mind chose to remember something, too.
Harry hoped it was something happier.
"Your face is filthy, Harry." Remus sighed after a while, removing his hand and stepping back. The accused wizard raised an eyebrow. "Dumbledore asked me to take you to the hospital wing if I caught you. Apparently, you took quite a few blows to the head after I departed."
The remainder of his injuries sparked an aching fire of pain beneath his curls, Reaching all the way to his flaking fist that barely had any skin left to bruise. As he grimaced. he finally acknowledged the dried blood that had made an absolute mess of his face, gripping to his eyebrows and trailing halfway down his neck.
How had he left it that long?
He had to take better care of himself. As an ashamed red filled his cheeks, he moved to rub the stains off with his sleeve.
"Don't; let's get out of this rain and see Madaam Promphry; she'll have you fixed up."
"Won't she be... busy? And-and what about training-"
"Training can wait, for now; be human for a night."
"..."
"..."
"... I'm sorry for shouting at you."
"That's quite alright."
"Goodness, child! What did you wash your paws with? Rocks for soap?! Your hand is still a mess from last year! All that scrubbing and not a drop of water near your face! You can't leave the blood to dry all over you; it's such a pain to get off with magic. You should have come straight here! I've had enough missing students today..." The medic continued her hushed scolding as she wrapped his serum-covered hands, but Harry was barely listening, too focused on the drawn curtains before him.
The eyesore had been the first thing Harry saw upon entering earlier, drowning out Poppy's harsh whispers as she pounced on him, wand in hand. He hadn't been able to see much until the healer had dragged the teenager to the neighbouring bed. The new perspective allowed him to see the slightest mound of silver hair. The sight was making him sick.
"You managed to give yourself a concussion with all that falling about! Honestly, you and Mr Lupin have consumed more of my potions than any of my patients combined!" The hysteric woman gestured to the tall man behind them, who raised his eyebrows at the sudden attention. "You ought to stay here for the night; the headmaster will want to see you in the morning."
Harry moved to argue, but the warning look from both adults made his mouth go dry.
"Right, shower and bed." The witch hummed, placing the necessary water-repelling charms on his newly dressed wounds. "Take the orange potion first, then the purple one when you're back - I want you asleep before I return from the headmaster's office," The lady waffled on, handing a pair of pyjamas to the now-standing Gryffindor before ushering him towards the washrooms. "Oh, and Mr Lupin, while you're here." She revealed a tray full of faint blue potions and shoved them into the baffled man's arms.
"Poppy, you don't have to -" Remus spluttered, barely catching the load as the medic brushed past him and bustled toward the doors.
"Don't you start; they're no use to me, and I know the full moon is on Saturday. Now, off you go; you're keeping my patient awake." And with that, she was gone, rushing off toward Dumbledore's office, leaving the two Gryffindors stunned.
"Well," The sandy-haired man whistled after a moment, moving toward Harry's bed, "I best leave you be, Harry. I'll take your cloak and uniform up to your dormitory before I leave… I'll let your friends know you're alright if I see them. Get yourself washed and rested; Tonks will be here this weekend…."
"Thank you." Harry croaked as the man made for the exit; he paused. Turning to peer at him over the items in his arms, he smiled warmly.
"You're welcome. Come see me in the future, before you feel like this, alright?"
"Okay…"
I'll try…
"We'll talk about this properly soon; goodnight, Harry."
And then he was alone.
Not entirely, he thought.
Not wanting to spend another moment near the enclosed curtains, he grabbed his assigned potion and all but ran towards the bathroom.
The mirror had startled him when he walked in, not with the usual insult his dorm mirror directed at his hair - simply his own reflection, urging his heart to start racing again.
Rushing away from it before he could acknowledge his own tired features, Harry quickly undressed and slipped under the running water, begging his shot nerves to register the sensation on his skin, his body, as though every drop could piece his outer shell back together like a jigsaw.
He shuffled before the foggy glass sometime later, terribly reaching out to wipe away the liquified steam.
A strange sense of Déjà vu washed over him as his blurry face appeared.
Overgrown curls framed his face, the harsh red lightning bolt slashing through his left eyebrow, his scarred chest, and his shirt in his bandaged hands.
It was a weird feeling to know he was in a better state of mind during that moment at the Dursleys.
Why was he making this awful day about him?
He wasted no time pulling on his sleep shirt, wanting nothing more than to down that sleeping potion that was waiting on his bedside for him and avoid thinking for a few hours- stop remembering.
But as soon as he pulled the door open, something stopped him. The feeling of familiar magic surrounded him the second he stepped out.
"Hermione?" The sixteen-year-old whispered to the near-empty room without hesitating.
He hadn't been anticipating the sound of the chair knocking over— nor the shriek of surprise. He watched as his invisibility cloak— how fast had Remus travelled to Gryffindor tower?— fell from her shoulders, barely catching the girl spin around to face him. He jumped back, letting out an audible yelp and dropping the dirty clothes in his hands.
Harry hoped there were silencing charms around Malfoy's bed.
"HARRY!" The prefect screamed before charging towards him, only solidifying his previous thought as she hurled her frame into his chest. She flung her arms around his shaking body before he could resist the urge to flinch from the contact. "Oh, Harry…" Hermione lowered her voice, "Harry, where have you been…." Her words sounded heavy as he felt her breathe in his scent with unsteady gulps.
"The- the shower?" He stuttered, arms frozen at his sides.
The brunette shifted back to look him in the eye with a stern expression, opening her mouth to say something. Her scripted scolding died on her lips the exact moment the seeker noticed her tears; Harry immediately felt worse.
"Oh, Harry…" The bushy-haired witch repeated, carefully placing her cool hands on his neck, and closing her eyes as he tensed. After a moment, amber met emerald once more. "I'm here," she said finally.
The moment the words left her lips, he crumbled, falling into Hermione's open arms easily. He could feel the calming potion fighting off the urge to break down again as she embraced him. Harry wondered if he even had any tears left to shed; his dampening shirt told him Hermione had enough for the both of them.
As they separated, Hermione linked their hands and wordlessly guided them to his assigned bed.
We are going to all politely pretend that I have not, again, been gone for an entire year. This chapter is a poor excuse for an update all things considered, but it has been sat in my files for a long time, no use here when it could be posted!
I hope your 2022 and 23 were well, let's just be thankful I updated before 2024 arrived… see you soon!
… or not.