Chapter 15
Something Familiar
Harry woke up feeling completely numb. He stared at the ceiling and felt nothing. Nothing. He vaguely thought about yesterday but he just couldn't be bothered. He sat up and walked to the bathroom and stared at himself in the mirror. He could see his aura. He could also see the mass of foreign aura around his scar. He didn't know what this meant but it was wrong. It disgusted him. He felt a sharp twinge in his arm and realized he had been running his nails up and down his arm hard enough to break skin. He had done this for years. A self-soothing method he'd developed when he was young. He sneered at himself for the childish behavior. Freak. His mind screamed at him.
Harry sighed and collapsed onto the floor and pushed his back against the wall. He closed his eyes and gently ran a finger over the damage to his arm. It stung but it was grounding. Pain he could deal with. The pain was familiar. He pulled the pocketknife Sirius gave him from his back pocket and rolled it in his hand. He hadn't considered hurting himself since last summer. After George had pointed out that they knew, he couldn't bring himself to do it again. He didn't want to disappoint them.
Harry flicked the blade open and admired the edge. It would be so easy to just give in. He considered how easy it might be to push a little farther and just be done now. Voldemort's magic was in his head. He had more of it in his trunk. He wished he knew what that meant. It wasn't like looking at an object that had been cursed. The aura of a curse looked like it was sitting around the object, kind of like a cloud. This magic was deep like it was part of the thing. Like a person's aura. Harry felt his stomach roll. Harry rolled to his knees and felt the knife slip from his hand to the floor with a clatter. He rushed to the toilet and dry heaved. He'd not eaten since yesterday morning. At the moment he wondered if he'd ever eat again.
Sitting back, he grabbed the knife and closed it. Shoving it back into his pocket. He needed answers.
He pulled himself to standing and made his way to the trunk. He pulled out all the books and notes he had taken from Grimmauld. Maybe something in there would hold the answers he was looking for.
Harry had been going through the books from Sirius room when something caught his eye. One of the letters he had taken was poking out from under the book he was reading.
Harry gently pulled it out and felt confused about what he was reading.
The letter was in a muggle envelope and was addressed to Sirius. However, the return address was Cokeworth. The letter was from his mother. Had She been here at some point?
Harry hastened to open the letter.
Harry was disappointed, the letter was just reading recommendations for charms. He recognized the assignment. It was one he had this summer. This letter must have been from when his parents were his age.
Harry looked back at the envelope and traced the return address.
He quickly pulled the map of Cokeworth off his side table and looked for the street. It wasn't far. He had to go. He didn't know much about his mother. Perhaps she had only stayed in Cokeworth for a few days with a friend. Or she and Aunt petunia could have grown up here. He had no idea.
He pushed the letter and map into his pocket and draped his invisibility cloak over himself. He didn't want to be stopped while he was out. He still felt numb and wasn't sure he could even hold a conversation right now.
With a deep sigh he set off to look for the address his mother had been at once. He felt a little of the numbness ebb away.
Harry stood in front of an abandoned house on a street of equally abandoned houses. This house was painted a soft yellow and looked like at one time it had a lovely front garden. It was overgrown now and looked wild.
Harry took shaky steps up the front sidewalk until he stood on the porch. He felt his breath catch as he saw the name painted on the mailbox. Evans. This had been their home. Harry was sure of it now. A tentative hand slipped out from under the cloak and he ran his fingers over the chipped paint of the dusty mailbox.
Harry pulled his hand back and moved to the door. He tried the knob and found it locked. He waved his hand and heard the click. Checking over his shoulder to make sure no one was watching he pushed the door open and stepped inside.
The house was empty as he had expected. Everything had a thick layer of dust clinging to it. He slowly made his way around the ground floor. It was a simple house. The sitting room was painted pale blue with a big front window. The kitchen had a little breakfast nook and was a soft yellow like the outside of the house. It felt warm and comforting. He made his way past a water closet and climbed the stairs.
Upstairs held three bedrooms. One large bedroom on one side of the hall and two smaller but still comfortable rooms on the other side. He wondered which room had been his mother's. It didn't really matter but Harry found himself almost desperate to know.
He wondered what his grandparents had been like. Or even what they looked like. He had never seen a picture of them. And Aunt Petunia never mentioned them. He supposed they were dead.
Harry made his way back to the ground floor and out to the back garden. It too was very overgrown. The trees along the back looked in desperate need of water in the summer heat. What had likely once been a vegetable garden lay bare. There were weeds mixed amongst perennials in flowerbeds along the fence.
Harry sighed.
This was just one more way in which he would never have family. He knew nothing about either set of his grandparents. Sirius had told him that James' parents were good people and that they had taken him in. Petunia had let slip that her parents had been proud to have a witch in the family. That was all he knew.
With one last look at the house Harry made his way back to the motel.
When he entered his room, he felt drained. He longed for love and family. Yet he knew he could never have it. The only family left hated him. Had raised him to be a shell of a person.
Harry pulled his photo album from his trunk and flipped through it. He smiled sadly at the pictures of his parents. He flipped past the ones he had of Sirius. His death felt too fresh to look at those photo's. As he turned the page, he was surprised by a picture of his mother. He had a lot more background information about the picture now. Before it had just been one he had been given. His mother was standing in a yellow kitchen wearing a blue dress and a white apron. She looked to be about sixteen. Long red hair hung over her shoulders. Harry realized it was where he had recognized Janes uniform from. This picture. This picture was of his mother, standing in her family home, by the kitchen sink, wearing the familiar uniform for The Willson's Diner.
Harry flopped on the bed. As he rolled his head to the side, he saw the bottle of firewhiskey on the table.
He sat up and considered it for only a moment before spinning the lid off and taking a large gulp. Harry coughed as it burned its way down. His body began to tingle, and he considered everything that had happened recently.
He closed his eyes and slipped into his mind. He was greeted with the great stone wall. It had been necessary yesterday, but he knew that it was cutting off his emotions too much. It wasn't right to feel this way. He lowered the wall and gasped as the weight of everything slammed into him full force.
He felt his body shake. He had seen his mother's home. He had walked around her home. A place where she had grown up. A place she had laughed and cried and been hugged and appreciated. This town where she had grown up. These kind people who took on a stranger. A runaway kid. Would he have known these people in a different life? Would they have come here to visit his grandparents? Would he have camped out in their back garden in the summer? Or baked cookies with his grandma? Did his grandfather have a hobby he would have wanted to share? He wanted that all so badly.
Harry felt tears behind his eyes. He hadn't cried through any of the trauma that had happened this summer, but this seemed to be his undoing.
Hot tears slid down his face. He felt cold and alone. When he was a young child, he would sit in his cupboard and dream of someone coming to save him. Some long-lost relative that would swoop in and take him away. Someone that would love him and take care of him.
Harry choaked on a sob.
He had wanted it so badly. As he got older, he had let that hope go. He focused on hoping that the years would go quickly, and he would eventually be able to leave his relatives home when he was old enough. He had tried to run away before, but he had always been caught and taken back.
When Hagrid had come for him before his first year, he thought maybe things were finally going to change. All of the hope had been squashed in Dumbledore's office as he had been told to return to the Dursleys.
A flicker of hope reignited that he didn't think he could even still have when Sirius had offered him a home. Only to watch the hope die as Pettigrew ran into the woods and Sirius turned to Padfoot to fight off Moony.
Sirius had tried to encourage him over this last year that they would be a family when the war was over. But harry never let himself hope for it again. He'd had his hope crushed too many times.
Now Sirius was dead. Remus hated him. He was a danger to his friends. He was utterly alone.
He thought about his brief stay at the Dursley's this summer, about living on the streets of London, He thought about finding Justin and just how shaken he was. He thought about Hermione, And Hannah, and Justin all having to flee their homes because of the Death Eaters.
Harry sobbed harder.
He grabbed the bottle and drank another large gulp.
Harry thought about his time in Cokeworth. He thought about finally just getting to live as just Harry. How amazing it had been to just be himself. About how kind people had been to him. Then he thought about finding the cup.
He felt sick again thinking about the cup and the locket. He couldn't even think about what might be lurking under his own skin. Maybe he really was a danger to his friends.
He felt his head spin. He recapped the bottle and lay on his bed in a pile of books and parchment.
It's your fault you're alone. He thought viciously to himself. He had gotten Sirius killed. He had gotten them all killed. He didn't deserve to feel bad for himself. This pity party needed to end.
Harry sat up with an angry huff.
He pulled the knife from his pocket again and drew it slowly across his arm twice. He deserved this. He deserved to be punished for what he had done. To be punished for being a freak.
He dropped the open knife on the bed amongst his books. He watched the blood leak down his arm. He felt the anger at himself swell. The alcohol was only making the emotions feel bigger.
How could he do this to himself? He felt more like a freak. He stood and went to the bathroom and washed the blood down the drain. He scrubbed his arm, but it wasn't enough. His whole body itched. He felt dirty and disgusting.
He stripped off his clothing and stepped into the shower. He scrubbed and cried and felt like yelling. When he noticed the room was shaking, he took a deep breath. He collapsed to the floor of the shower and just let the cooling water wash over him.
When he felt calm again, he got out of the shower. He got dressed and made his way about his room picking everything up and laying an outfit out for tomorrow. He felt exhausted and still a little buzzy from the firewhiskey. Despite the wave of emotions, he knew a few things for sure.
He had to kill Voldemort. To do that he had to live long enough to see it through. If he wanted to live long enough to do that, he'd have to keep going. He was still on the run. He couldn't go to his friends. He couldn't go back to the Dursleys. He needed to pull himself together and carry on. Carrying on meant going to work, reading his books to figure out what these Voldemort infested items were. It meant pulling himself up by the bootstraps and keeping a stiff upper lip like he had always done.
He had his first day at the grocery store tomorrow. He needed to rest and refocus. Everything had been so overwhelming. He had probably needed this break down.
His life was so strange, but he didn't know how it could be any different. He had made choices that had gotten him here. However, now it felt that this was where he was supposed to be.
Once the room was spotless and organized, he lay down on the bed. His mind still raced from all the thoughts, but he felt more like himself. He thought he should probably avoid putting the wall back up unless he had too. The numbness made him feel hollow. And when the wall came down everything was still waiting for him on the other side. Ready to drown him in a title wave of suppressed emotions.
With a sigh he closed his eyes and hoped tomorrow would be a better day.
Mary bustled around her kitchen making supper for her family as she did every Sunday. It used to be a big family get together every week. Then both of her children had moved away from Cokeworth, and it had just been her, Arthur and Maggie for a few years. Now it was just her and Maggie. But she still loved to have her over once a week so that they could catch up. Her son would be here by the end of the summer with his wife. Their boys were all grown now and off living there lives, but she was still glad that her son was coming home.
As Mary put the finishing touches on the dinner, she heard the front door close. She smiled to herself. This was what family should mean. A safe home where you are always welcome.
"Hi Grandma." Maggie said as she came into the kitchen.
"Good evening, dear." Mary replied.
Maggie went to the cupboard and pulled down plates and glasses. She collected the silverware and napkins and went about setting the table for the two of them. When she was finished, she stood next to Mary.
"Is this done." Maggie said gesturing to the pot on the stove.
"Yes, it is. Would you be so kind as to take it to the table? I'm afraid my strength isn't what it used to be." Mary said a little sadly.
"Of course." Maggie replied.
They took their seats and dished up their food.
"How is Max working out at the shop?" Maggie asked after a few minutes.
Marry hummed in thought.
"He's done an excellent job. I don't know where he comes by half the skills he has, but it would have cost me a small fortune to have the work done professionally. I paid him yesterday and he seemed a little shocked like he wasn't expecting it." Mary said, turning her fork in her hand.
"Yes, I saw him from the window of the office yesterday exploring the shops. Came running back like he was in trouble. I kept an eye out expecting someone to be chasing after him, but no one ever came. Saw him leave a little later and return with laundry. I don't know, maybe he just lost track of time." Maggie mused over a bite of food.
"Did you see him today?" Mary asked.
Maggie shook her head.
"No, I haven't. I'm hoping he's not getting himself in trouble." Maggie grumbled a little.
"So far, I haven't seen any sign that he's going to be any trouble. It's only been a week but other then what he did for Julie he's been nothing but quiet and polite. I forget he's in the shop sometimes." Mary said.
"I would agree. He is quiet and polite…It's just." Maggie cut herself off and lightly bit her lip.
"What is it dear?" Mary pushed.
"I went to check on him yesterday morning. After you said he had been knocked out by Mark and then didn't let the Doctor check him out. I just wanted to make sure he was alright. When he came to the door, he…Well he wasn't wearing a shirt. He's…He's covered in bruises, and thin as a rail." Maggie said setting down her fork and bringing her hand up to run through her hair.
"He thought I was there to kick him out. When I told him Julie had paid him up, the shock on his face." Maggie pursed her lips and just shook her head.
"I'm concerned though because I saw a bottle in his room, and he smelt like liquor." Maggie said, biting her lip.
"I guess that's what I mean by trouble." Maggie added.
Mary sat back taking in everything her granddaughter had just told her. She had already suspected that the boy had experienced a rough road. This was upsetting news. She had grown to like the kid. She hoped her conversation from yesterday with Severus would bear fruit. She knew he could help in these situations. Even if he did an awful lot of grumbling on his way.
Mary cleared her throat.
"I spoke with Severus yesterday." Mary said.
Maggie rolled her eyes.
"I know you don't get along but surely you know he might be able to help." Mary insisted.
"If he doesn't scare the poor boy off. It wasn't just bruises I saw. The kids got scars all over him. I noticed he had a few on his arms. They looked like maybe he'd tried to kill himself earlier in the summer."
Mary gasped at the latest revelation.
"I don't know maybe that's why he's on the run. All I know is I don't want to find a dead kid. All we need is the kid doing himself in because Severus said something cutting and the boy just couldn't take it. You know how Severus can be."
Mary nodded in thought. Severus could be harsh. Maybe she should just tell him not to bother. However, something about Max told her that Severus could help him. She couldn't put her finger on what was so familiar about Max. Something about his smile seemed familiar. She didn't think she had ever seen the boy before last week, yet she had felt comfortable with the boy right away. She was even going to invite him over to her home to do some work. She couldn't place the feeling. She just knew something was familiar and she knew Severus could help this kid. She was sure she would figure it out eventually.
"I told him not to scare him off. Told him Max is skittish. However, I didn't know that the boy might be dealing with more serious issues." Mary sighed.
"I obviously can't know for sure. It's just what it looked like to me." Maggie tried to placate.
"I'm not saying Severus is the wrong choice. I just…Lets just keep an eye on Max. Yeah?" Maggie conceded.
Mary nodded back. She was already keeping an eye on Max, and she would continue to do so.