Disclaimer: Nope.

Author's Note: Hi folks! I'm back from my honeymoon! I had an absolutely FANTASTIC time in the Uk! What a truly amazing trip. It was one of those vacations I wanted to last forever. My husband had a truly wonderful time as well. I hope all of you had a great couple of weeks. I missed you guys!

Thank you all so much for the great reviews! I'm really glad you liked the birthday party. Man, I love writing Sturgis and his beloved son. And I'm glad you like the sound of French toast pizza!

Yes, Voldemort certainly made his comeback. He's certainly an evil monster. And boy, is he wrong about people's defiance fading. Tyrants like him aren't allowed to think they're winning, as Sturgis has said.

Thank you to everyone who told me to enjoy my honeymoon. I'm really sorry one of my reviewers never got one. Well, you can always have a honeymoon years after the fact. It doesn't always have to be right after your wedding! And thank you all for understanding about my updating schedule as well.

And yes, Yellow 14, I can't wait to write about your characters too. They'll certainly be playing a role very soon.

Wow, this chapter was very emotional for me to write. And the next one will be, too. They'll probably be the most overwhelming ones I've written so far, at least for me. The next one, especially, will be rather cathartic.

I hope you all enjoy this chapter.

xxxxxxxxxx

Harry felt his shoulders being gently shaken. He was panting and gasping, sweat dripping off him as he suddenly came awake, his entire being vibrating with horror.

What he'd just seen ... what he'd just felt ... he bolted upright, leaning over the side of the bed and vomiting, over and over and over again. He felt vile, dirty, wretched, used. His spidery hand had held that wand as it tortured and murdered people. He had felt the sheer satisfaction and twisted amusement as screams had rang out. "Do whatever you want to me, but please, please don't hurt my family! They didn't do anything!" The enormous pleasure he had felt resounded in his mind, and he vomited again.

"Harry! Harry!" He heard Sirius's voice calling out to him, but he couldn't respond. His eyes stung with tears - he saw the face of the woman that had been killed only moments ago, her brave words echoing in his mind. He could still hear the thud of her lifeless body as it hit the ground.

He felt hands on his shoulders, and he was pulled into a warm chest. Sirius, the person he trusted above all others, the man who had shown him over and over again how much he loved him - even the tiniest and most minor of actions, the things Sirius thought were insignificant, had shown him that. Sirius's arms were secure and safe around him, and as he lay wrapped up in love, he let everything wash over him. He sobbed, releasing everything he felt. He sobbed for the people he had seen die, for the loved ones that were now left behind. There were so many sets of lifeless eyes that were filling his head - Merlin, he didn't know how he could ever sleep again.

And the entire time, Sirius was there with him, holding him close and letting him cry. He carted his gentle hands through Harry's hair, whispering words of love and comfort in his ear. Harry held on tightly, his tears soaking into Sirius's robes, the warmth of his body and his soothing voice helping the tears fall faster, expelling the poison from his soul.

When the tears finally subsided, Sirius lifted his chin so he could look into his eyes. "What happened?" he asked, his voice incredibly gentle.

"Voldemort." Harry choked. "He ... he wanted to let the world know that he's back. I ... he ... killed so many people. I saw it all."

Sirius instantly noticed Harry's inadvertent slip. "Oh Merlin," he breathed, tightening his hold on his godson. "Harry, I ... you did not kill those people. You did not." His voice sounded heartbroken and near tears.

"But I ... he ... enjoyed it," Harry cried out in a strangled voice, the memories washing over him again.

"He enjoyed it," Sirius said softly, putting special emphasis on the word "he". "If you honestly enjoyed it, would you be feeling like this?"

Harry shook his head against him. "No," he mumbled. "But ... Sirius, you don't understand. I ... I was him! I was the one holding the wand! I ... I said those words."

Harry felt Sirius shaking with emotion. "Kiddo, that was all him. You only felt it because of this horrific connection you share. You had nothing to do with this at all. Nothing." Lifting Harry's chin again, he forced him to look into the gray eyes that were filled with heartbreak, love, and concern. "It was not you," he reiterated gently. "And I promise you, we will sort this out. I will make sure you never feel this again."

Harry was infinitely touched, but he knew it wouldn't be that easy. How could the scar connection possibly be dealt with? How was this going to end unless Voldemort was defeated?

"Shhhh." Sirius continued to hold him close, and Harry could feel the beat of his heart in his ear. As it had so many times before, the sound reassured him, and he clung on, Sirius being the shield between him and the horror that he had been lost in all night.

It was then that Harry remembered it was September 1. He thought of his friends, who would be getting ready to start another year of magical education. He felt a feeling of incredible envy grip him then - they would all be excited, enjoying the hustle and bustle of it all. Doubtless Mrs. Weasley would have to remind Ron to pack all of his things, and her loud, exasperated voice would ring through the Burrow. "How many times have I told you not to wait to pack until the last minute, Ronald Weasley?" Hermione would probably be on his case about it, too. She'd have packed her things meticulously, making sure that everything was in its proper place.

Harry's heart ached for old times. He would suddenly give anything to be going on the Hogwarts Express. All he wanted to do was forget the horrors he had seen. He just wanted to go to school and play Quidditch and hang out with his friends. He just ... couldn't deal with this. He didn't want to face reality.

The victims he ... no, Voldemort ... had killed swam in his mind again. He shuddered in Sirius's embrace, and he could feel terror gripping at him. He was furious with himself - he was giving Voldemort exactly what he wanted. Voldemort wanted him to be afraid. Voldemort wanted him to fall apart at the seams. Voldemort wanted the darkness to pull Harry under.

And Harry vowed, right then and there, that he wouldn't let it. But it would be much harder than he had ever imagined. Still clinging to Sirius, he closed his eyes, letting the man's presence comfort him in a way like nothing ever had.

It was September 1, and everything had changed. There were many unpleasant changes in Harry Potter's life, but there was one amazing change that Harry was exceedingly grateful for.

Sirius was here, and as Harry sank into his warmth, he knew he was loved. And that would always mean more to him than anything else in the world.

xxx

Ronald Weasley had never dreaded the prospect of Hogwarts more as he brought his trunk down the stairs of the Burrow. He was in a foul mood, and he scowled at Hermione, who had made it a point to snap at him about not having his things packed. "Do you want to miss the train?" she'd asked, glaring at him.

Well, honestly, Ron wouldn't have given two hoots if he had missed the train. Harry wouldn't be on it anyway. His first friend wouldn't be on the train, and You-Know-Who was back. It wasn't like he hadn't known that with every fiber of his being, but the night before, he had made his presence all too clear by perpetrating a series of horrific attacks that had been reported in the Daily Prophet. When he'd arrived at the kitchen table this morning, his parents were quiet, pale, and shaken.

"What's happened?" Ron had asked, his first thought that something had happened to Harry. "What's the matter?"

It was then that Arthur had shown them the paper - the front page proclaimed that You-Know-Who had attacked several homes last night. Ron didn't know any of the people who had been tortured and murdered, and he felt instant relief at that, followed by guilt. Merlin knew how many people were grieving today. And Ron had an awful feeling that one day, it would be someone he knew.

His mother was not doing well - they had all known that You-Know-Who would make his presence known soon enough, but the confirmation of it almost sent her over the edge. It was clear that she did not want to send her children to Hogwarts - it was written all over her face as she spoke in hurried whispers to Arthur. He had shaken his head, laying a supportive hand on Molly's shoulder. Tears had filled her eyes as she shakily nodded, every part of her body language suggesting that all she wanted to do was hold her children close and never let them go.

Before, Ron had always gotten annoyed at his mother's smothering nature. He remembered his first day at Hogwarts, when she'd been obsessed with that spot of dirt on his nose. It had embarrassed him more than he was willing to admit, especially with others there on the platform. Merlin, he wished she'd leave him alone.

And now, as Ron, his family, and Hermione settled into Ministry cars that Arthur had once again procured for them, he knew that Molly was going to hug him to death when they said goodbye on the platform. And today, Ronald Weasley wouldn't complain. Today, he'd hug her back - he was ashamed to admit it, but he wanted her comforting arms to come around him. Merlin, he was bloody scared.

Coward, he thought furiously as the Ministry car he sat in pulled away from the Burrow. He was squeezed in between Hermione and Ginny, and Hermione had lost that annoyed expression she'd worn only moments ago when she had snapped at him that he'd been irresponsible to wait to pack until the last minute. Though she had gotten on his last nerve, he could see the fear in her eyes and knew that she was scared, too. Bloody terrified, and he didn't blame her in the slightest.

Merlin, he missed Harry. He knew, with every fiber of his being, that Harry's presence would automatically make him feel safer. It was odd, since he knew very well that Harry was You-Know-Who's prime target. But he'd always been able to depend on Harry to get him through horrific situations. Looking at Ginny's pale, vulnerable face, he thought of the Chamber and knew she was thinking about it, too.

Ron was completely silent on the way to King's Cross station, and no one in the car talked to the driver, who was obviously having a hard time coping with recent events. His eyes kept darting around the vehicle, as if expecting one of his passengers to leap up and attack him.

Sooner than Ron would have liked, they arrived at King's Cross station. They all piled out of the car, making sure they had their trunks, and, if they had them, their familiars. "Thank you," Arthur told the driver, who nodded jerkily as the Weasleys and Hermione trudged their way into the station.

When you're dreading the moment when something you don't want is going to happen, time only seems to pass faster. Ron and his group reached the barrier sooner than they would have thought, and crossed it.

Ron looked around, and knew instantly that everything was different. Before, there were tears from the parents as they hugged their children goodbye, but the air had also been filled with the joyous shouts of students as they found their friends, ready to embark on another year in the magnificent castle. This year, though, Ron saw parents holding their children even closer than before, the tears they were shedding seeming to be terrified ones as well as ones of sadness. Ron spotted Sturgis Podmore, who was hugging his son and whispering in his ear. Benjamin was giving his dad a reassuring smile, but there was no mistaking the trepidation in his eyes.

Ron felt a lightning bolt of anger shoot through him. Harry was supposed to be standing beside him, laughing with him about what might befall them in Divination this year or whether Hagrid would come up with something worse than Blast-Ended Skrewts. The scene wasn't supposed to be blanketed by fear as mothers and fathers held their children in a much tighter embrace than before.

"Oh, Ronnie." Molly gently touched Ron's cheeks. Instead of pushing her away, he let her do it. If this was her way of getting any kind of reassurance, Ron wasn't about to deny her. "Please, please be careful," she said, tears choking her voice. "I love you so much."

"Love you too, Mum," Ron whispered as he felt a lump in his own throat. He gently hugged his mother back, trying to reassure her that everything would be okay, even though he felt no such thing. "It'll be all right."

After several more long moments, Molly let Ron go, although he knew she was loathe to do so. He watched with an aching heart as she hugged her other children and Hermione, and Arthur, his face lined and pale, also embraced Ron. "Stay safe, my son," he whispered.

Ron smiled shakily at his dad, wanting nothing more than to cross the barrier again and not enter Hogwarts' hallowed halls this year. He didn't want to, when he was so scared. He didn't want to ... without his very, very best friend in the entire world. It sounded cheesy and melodramatic even to Ron's ears ... but it was true.

Bill hugged him next, and Ron accepted it as his older brother ruffled his hair. "Stay out of trouble, mate," he told him quietly.

Ron gave Bill a small smile. "I'll try," he replied, attempting a joke but knowing he was falling flat.

"Come on, Ron," Hermione whispered to him. "The train's about to leave ... we need to get on."

Ron scowled, but the expression wasn't directed at Hermione. She understood, and squeezed his hand. "We have to do this," she whispered. "We have to stay strong for Harry."

"I know," Ron whispered back, the words constricting his throat as he, Hermione, Ginny, and the twins got onto the train. A supremely subdued Fred and George, who had no smiles on their faces at all, went to go and find their best mate, Lee Jordan. Ron and Hermione went to go and find a compartment, and Ginny followed. Instead of telling his little sister to "go away, Ginny", as he had done before - he felt a twinge of guilt at that recollection - he let her follow. They were all scared, and they needed each other right now.

As they passed several compartments, they saw sad, pensive, pale faces staring out the window. In one compartment, Ron recognized Cho Chang, the girlfriend of Cedric Diggory. She was looking out the window, her eyes so incredibly sad and haunted that it made Ron want to ask if there was anything he could do to make her feel better. But Cho didn't know him - she probably wouldn't answer him anyway. Hermione and Ginny stared at the older girl with saddened expressions as they passed her compartment.

Then, Ron's emotions suddenly changed from sadness to anger as he saw Zacharias Smith and a few of his Hufflepuff buddies in another compartment, whispering to each other. Hermione laid a hand on Ron's shoulder, sensing his instinct to go and confront the bloody wanker who had been one of those who had accused his best mate of murder with absolutely no evidence. "There's no point, Ron," she whispered as Ginny, too, clenched and unclenched her fists. "You'll only get in trouble, and you're a Prefect now."

Ron opened his mouth, ready to snap at Hermione that he didn't give a bloody toss whether he was a bloody Prefect or the bloody king of England. But deep down, he knew Hermione was right, and he knew that she didn't deserve to be snapped at.

Finally, they found an empty compartment, and with a dejected sigh, Ron sat down. Hermione and Ginny followed suit, knowing they looked just as depressed and frightened as many on the train did. They sat in silence as the final thirty seconds before their departure ticked by.

Then, suddenly, the train was in motion, speeding away from King's Cross station and dragging Ron away to somewhere, for the first time, he didn't want to go. Harry's face entered his mind, and he felt his heart somersault in his chest as he saw his parents and Bill waving at him from the platform. He lifted his hand to wave back, and then, the train rounded the bend, and Ron could not see his family anymore. Sitting back with another saddened sigh, he closed his eyes, dreading what was to come.

xxx

Sturgis Podmore had experienced many hard things in his life. He'd had many experiences that he'd learned from over the years, some of them extremely unpleasant. But as his life's journey progressed, he'd learned many valuable lessons along the way.

But this ... he thought he'd prepared for this moment. Last night, as he'd lain in his bed, he'd told himself that he was going to be okay. He'd told himself that he had to be the father Ben needed him to be, and let his boy go, allow him to experience the wonder that was Hogwarts' sacred corridors.

But he hadn't truly realized the depth of his emotions. He hadn't truly realized how difficult this was going to be. And it had only made things a million times worse when he'd stared at the Daily Prophet headline and seen a picture of the Dark Mark staring grotesquely back at him.

Voldemort was back, and of course Sturgis knew that he would stop laying low and begin his series of attacks. Sturgis remembered all too well the days of the First War, when the monster had perpetrated violence that had only grown worse and worse as time passed.

But he couldn't help the sinking feeling in his gut as he'd seen the headlines this morning. He reflected, though, that it made perfect sense that Voldemort would start the war in earnest the night before September 1. Parents were already scared of sending their children to Hogwarts, and Voldemort knew it. He took full advantage of the fact, and reveled in the knowledge that he was creating fear wherever he went. Fear, grief, and uncertainty.

And Sturgis wasn't immune to it. People looked at him like he was the port, the shelter from the storm, and Sturgis knew that he was depended upon to give comfort to those who were afraid. He remembered the pale faces of the Order of the Phoenix and knew that he had to be the one to offer a strong, steady hand - after all, he knew with a bone-deep certainty that Voldemort would be defeated.

But that didn't mean he wasn't terrified for his son. That didn't mean that he didn't sometimes lie awake at night, chills consuming him as nightmares of what could happen to his baby boy entered his mind. He thought of the lifelike dummies he had created to fight against him, of the endless amount of hours he had fought those dummies just to practice his fighting skills. He might be an Auror, and many looked at him with outright awe on their faces at the talent for duelling he displayed, but he knew that if the time came when someone would come for his son, Sturgis could not take chances. He would become a better fighter, so he could battle them with everything he had in him. He'd charmed the dummies' faces to look like Death Eaters, and charmed another dummy to look like Ben. The boy had no idea of the time Sturgis devoted to fighting the dummies, jumping in front of his dummy-son and shielding him with his own body as they threw spells at him. And if he had anything to say about it, Ben would never, ever know of it.

Last night, Sturgis had allowed himself to enjoy the moment as he celebrated Ben's eleventh birthday. But in the back of his mind was the knowledge that in a little over twelve hours, he'd be sending his son to Hogwarts, and he wouldn't be able to protect him. There was no shielding the boy with his own body if Ben was thousands of miles away. As he'd spoken with Sirius, he'd only told the truth - he did not want to let his son out of his sight. And Merlin, even if there was no war coming, even if everything was peaceful and tranquil and his life did not involve being an Auror and constantly putting his life on the line ... he still wanted his son beside him. He'd never been away from him a day in his life.

Without his permission, an image of the boy's mother swam through his mind, followed by an image of Harry Potter standing nervously in the courtroom while John Dawlish demanded to know what went on between Harry and his Muggle family. "They don't like magic." His soft voice drifted through Sturgis's thoughts, and he instantly shut it down. He could not - would not - think of that now. He just ... couldn't.

When the train pulled out of the station and Ben waved to him, a light of such maturity and decency shining behind his eyes, Sturgis felt as though the driver might as well have twisted his heart, pulled it out of his body, mangled it, and stuck it back in with no regard for how it might affect him. His son's words echoed through his mind - "You always tell me it'll be okay, Dad. And it will." He'd smiled at his father, but Sturgis could tell that Ben was keeping his own fear back. As much as Sturgis had wanted to, he couldn't shield him from today's news - everyone on the train would be talking about it.

Sturgis felt as though his heart was being squeezed mercilessly as the train rounded the bend and disappeared out of sight. Ben, his son, was gone. He was gone. He was just ... gone.

The feeling of complete and utter emptiness that filled Sturgis then was unlike anything he had ever felt, and he'd been through a lot of rough stuff in his life. He felt like he was literally dragging his feet as he walked back through King's Cross station - his son wasn't at his side, and it felt excruciatingly wrong. He paid no attention to the endless amount of Muggles who were hurriedly checking their watches, sorting out belongings, and trying to figure out when their trains left.

Somehow, by some miracle, he made it out of the station and hailed himself a taxi. He normally had a car, but right now, it was being worked on. The engine wasn't working properly, and Kingsley, who also had a car, had helped him bring it in for repair.

"Why in Merlin's name do you have a car? Do you mean to tell me you LIKE being stuck in London traffic?" Sturgis remembered very well the incredulous reactions of some of the Aurors and Order members. "You know you can just Apparate everywhere!"

And when, a few days prior, the car's engine had an issue, he got: "You know you can just repair it with magic! Why would you want to spend all that money?"

But they didn't understand. They didn't understand at all why Sturgis had a car, why he didn't mind being stuck in hours of London traffic even though he knew perfectly well how to Apparate and did it plenty of times. They didn't understand why Sturgis clung to Muggle things like they were his lifeline. They just didn't get it, but that was okay. They didn't have to. And honestly, Sturgis would rather they didn't.

His mind was fuzzy and hazy as he got into the taxi. All he could see was Ben's smiling face. All he could hear was the sound of the train pulling away from King's Cross station. All he could feel was the barren emptiness of his soul as he sat without his son beside him.

And the driver just wouldn't shut up. "Traffic's terrible today," the man muttered. "And the weather isn't much better."

"Mmm-hmm," Sturgis said, closing his eyes and allowing his mind to remember the night before. He was in Benjamin's room, and kneeling by his bed. When he'd walked in, his son hadn't said anything, and Sturgis could tell he was feigning sleep. Sturgis instantly knew why he was doing it - he was truly excited for Hogwarts, and couldn't sleep because of it. But knowing his father was sad, he didn't want to let him know how excited he was.

Guilt instantly fell on him, and he was ready to tell Benjamin that it was okay, that he didn't have to pretend to be asleep just to soothe him. But he didn't, because he had his own confession to make and, selfishly, he didn't want Benjamin to answer him. He wanted to take McGonagall's advice and let him know about his past, but he wasn't quite ready for his son to pass judgment. He remembered McGonagall saying that Benjamin wouldn't think any worse of him, but he was scared, something he hadn't truly felt for years.

"Once upon a time, I wasn't a good man," Sturgis had said as he knelt by his son's bed. "I was someone you wouldn't have wanted to know. I acted out. I got into fights. I skipped class. I picked on people. I was extremely nasty. I flunked most of my subjects at Hogwarts." He took a deep breath and looked at Benjamin, who hadn't opened his eyes once or shown any kind of reaction. "I dropped out of Hogwarts," he said quietly. "When I was sixteen. I got involved with the wrong people - and no, they weren't Death Eaters. But you don't have to be a Death Eater to do wrong. When I was seventeen, I almost landed myself in Azkaban. It was only because of a man named Boris that I was saved from it.

"Boris changed my life. He was there for me at a time when I was utterly alone. He saw why I was acting out and realized my potential. He helped me turn my life around. I owe him everything. He allowed me to redeem myself and become a better person. When he died three months ago ... I felt like my world had ended.

"But I knew I wasn't alone. I still had my other friends. I still had the Aurors. And now, I have the Order, even though I wish for nothing more than for Voldemort to never have returned. And, most importantly, I still have you.

"I've never admitted this to you about my past before, and I'm not sure what you're going to think of me. But if you think any the worse of me, I'll understand. I won't love you any less. Nothing can change what you mean to me.

"You're a good boy, Ben. I know you're not going to make my mistakes. But you will make mistakes, son. Everyone does - we're all human. You might not do well on a test because you didn't study hard enough. You might be caught out after curfew and earn yourself a detention." He couldn't help but smile slightly at that one. His face grew sober again as he continued, "You might get angry and say something hurtful to someone you care about." He looked at his son's closed eyes again. "But no matter what mistakes you make - if you learn from them, they'll make you a better person. Mistakes help us grow, learn, and change into the people we want to become.

"But whatever happens, if you need me, I will be here. I know times are uncertain right now, and you know what I do for a living." He felt his throat constrict at this. "My work is very, very important, and I know you understand that. But the saddest thing is that I can't guarantee that nothing will happen to me."

He took another deep breath, and said one last thing. "I love you, Ben. With all my heart. I'm sorry things have to be this way. But I hope you never, ever forget that I love you."

"Oh, for Christ's sake!" The taxi driver's sudden enraged shout pulled Sturgis out of his recollections. "Can this traffic be any bloody WORSE?"

Sturgis kept quiet, but he wanted to snap at the fool. Did he think he was helping the situation by grumbling and complaining about it? If Sturgis had had any choice, he'd have Apparated home. The only thing that kept him from it was the fact that he knew he would have Splinched himself. And it would ruin his reputation rather heavily if anyone got wind that Sturgis Podmore, of all people, had bungled a simple Apparition.

After a few more painful minutes, he finally made it home. He paid the driver and was very happy to get out of his sight. However, a sudden moment of sympathy replaced the annoyance he had felt before - perhaps the driver was having a shitty day, too.

If he thought that the walk back through King's Cross station was painful, it was nothing compared to how he felt when he walked through his front door. One of the first things he saw was a single balloon left over from his son's birthday party the night before. He looked sadly at it, his heart aching. Kingsley had helped him clean up last night, but somehow, they'd both missed this one. Sturgis had seen it this morning while he and Benjamin were getting ready, but he hadn't bothered to do anything about it. He thought it might be comforting to see it when he walked in through the door. But he was very, very wrong.

Kingsley. Oh Merlin. Two hours. He was supposed to see Kingsley in two bloody hours. Neither of them had to go to the Ministry today, and Kingsley was supposed to help Sturgis write up Harry's curriculum. Last night as they'd said goodbye, Sturgis had reassured him that their session would be a good distraction from the heartbreak that this day would surely bring.

But he had been wrong about that, too. Sturgis Podmore was a man who prided himself on being right about many things, but today, he'd been wrong twice. The truth was, he couldn't see Kingsley today. There was no way in hell that he was in any shape to sit down and talk about History of Magic and defending oneself against the Dark Arts. Because right now, Sturgis had to battle against his own history, and defend himself against his own darkness.

He knew how important Harry's curriculum was. Merlin, did he know it. But he also knew that Harry's lessons wouldn't start until Monday, and he knew that he would be in much better shape by tomorrow. And he knew Kingsley would understand.

Sturgis's life had consisted of some rather harrowing ordeals, and because he had experienced so much, he had learned to teach others to fight the darkness. He knew that many of the Aurors counted on him, depended on him. He was always the one taking care of everyone else, and he didn't resent it for an instant. He was happy to do it, because he knew how it felt when others had given him hope.

But sometimes, Defense Against the Dark Arts also meant taking care of oneself. Sometimes, History of Magic meant dealing with your own past demons. Sometimes, it was about having the time and space to deal with things that were extremely difficult. Sometimes, it was about grieving today so you could be strong tomorrow and pick yourself up.

Sturgis retrieved a small book, an invention that certain Aurors used to communicate quickly with each other. If he sent an owl, it might not get to Kingsley quickly enough. If he wrote in the book, the words would show up in Kingsley's book, and vice versa. The whole thing was very convenient. And in his current state, he would not even attempt to send a Patronus.

Once he had written a quick note to Kingsley in the book, he sighed and headed upstairs, feeling guilty for having to cancel. No doubt Kingsley would hear the beeping sound if he was anywhere near the book, but it would continue to beep until he reacted to it. Thankfully, these books were also password protected so that if they fell into the wrong hands, no dark wizard would be able to read their messages to one another.

Sturgis found himself in Benjamin's bedroom without remembering the trip up there. He knelt by the boy's bed, as he had the night before, and a memory of this morning flashed through his mind. He knew Ben had been awake the entire time during his confession. He was always one who lived on hope, so maybe he was mistaken, but ... had Ben's smile been even more reassuring than usual?

Sturgis Podmore was many things - a crazy child, a Hogwarts dropout, a juvenile delinquent, a man who had turned his life around with the help of someone he considered his brother in all but blood, an Auror, an Order member, a husband, a giver of hope. But right now, all that mattered was that he had sent his son off to Hogwarts when a war had just begun. He knew it was the right thing for Benjamin to go, but it didn't make things any easier. Today's headlines entered his mind, and he shuddered.

Everyone always saw him as the strong one, the one that held others up and helped them through the darkest of times. He'd gotten many a look that clearly said, "How do you do it? I wish I could be like you."

But right now, Sturgis didn't feel strong. Right now, he was nothing more and nothing less than a heartbroken father missing his little boy, who was away from him for the first time in his life.

And so, he lay on the bed, where the scent of his son still lingered. Here, in this place, he could grieve properly. Sturgis Podmore buried his face in his son's pillow and wept.