Disclaimer: Nope.
Author's Note: Hello there, and thank you so much for the absolutely awesome reviews! I'm glad you enjoyed the chapter with McGonagall, the governors, Matthew, Rebecca, and Cho. I'm really glad you liked Cho's speech especially - as I've said before, she's my favorite character, and was treated so badly in canon. And Yellow 14, I'm so happy you enjoyed seeing Rebecca and Matthew again as well! I thoroughly adore writing them.
Thank you so much for your well wishes. Yes, I am doing tons better, and it feels so good to be writing again. It feels like, when writer's block breaks, that inspiration just comes pouring out. I'm sure there are fanfic authors out there who know the feeling well!
That's really interesting about the Prefect powers. It was pointed out to me that Percy was able to take points from Ron in Chamber of Secrets, yet it is explicitly stated that Prefects aren't allowed to take points in Order of the Phoenix. Since canon can't make up its mind and this is an AU fic anyway, I'm going to stick with Ron taking points from Melissa in chapter 69 and not add any more to it.
Yes, I am on the spectrum as well. Changes in routine are, indeed, a major problem for me, especially when it's because something's wrong, like a person being ill, or just not showing up and I don't know where they are. The "not showing up", or as I will put it, "going missing", will actually come up as something that happens later in this story. As a matter of fact, Sirius hints at it in this chapter - it's an incident that happened with Sturgis sixteen years ago. In my case, it's an incident that happened with the person I based Sturgis on a little over three months ago, back in October 2023. Obviously, I will make the incident very different in the story, as it's based in a magical world and I also, in no way, want to broadcast anything I shouldn't. I just want to evoke the same feelings in Sirius that I had myself. I am really sorry that you go through that as well. I understand that life is unpredictable and that things happen - I completely get it. It's just my brain that doesn't know how to handle it properly.
Anyway, I hope you guys enjoy the next chapter.
xxxxxxxxxx
It had been a difficult few days for Harry ever since he found out about the prophecy. Not once did he regret finally being brave enough to ask Sirius for the information - if anything, it filled in holes for him that he had wondered about over the years. In a way, it made things easier.
It had given him a better understanding of why his four years back in the wizarding world had been the way they were, why he'd had so many brushes with his mortality, why he was left to figure things out on his own. It explained Voldemort's complete obsession with him, and why he wanted him destroyed so badly. It explained why he was being trained so hard for battle.
It was at night when it hit him, and the true difficulty arose. The last few nights had been a struggle to endure as he tossed and turned in bed, thoughts and worries circulating through his mind. Echoes of conversations swirled through his consciousness, memories of things his tutors had said, Sirius's explanation of the prophecy, Sturgis's proclamation that Harry wouldn't be alone.
But above all the thoughts that swam through his mind, the thing that kept Harry sleepless was the conversation where Sirius had explained about the Horcrux that the Ministry was trying to destroy. Yesterday morning while Harry had been having lessons, Sirius, Bill, and Moody were also researching how to destroy that foul locket. There was no success so far, but considering the lengths Voldemort had no doubt gone to to create the Horcrux, it wasn't a surprise - not at all. But that didn't mean that Harry wasn't filled with outright fear when he thought about it, and he hated himself for it.
He was Harry Potter, the one who was supposed to show bravery and strength, the one who had proclaimed he'd never give in, that he'd never bow down to Voldemort and accept the world that the evil monster wanted to build. He was the model of defiance, the one who didn't break when the Death Eaters laughed and jeered at him. He was the one who held onto his wand so tightly, so painfully, when all he'd wanted to do was sink to the ground and give up. But looking into the faces of his parents as they begged him to keep holding on, at Cedric's expression as he entreated him to keep fighting, knowing he had to bring the older champion back home to Hogwarts, to his loved ones so they could say goodbye ... knowing he had to survive in order to tell the world that Voldemort was back ... he knew he couldn't give up - that wasn't an option. So why, then, did he feel despair sink its claws into him when he thought about the Horcrux?
The answer was easy. Harry was the one who was supposed to kill Voldemort, but if the monster couldn't die, then how would he do it? There was no chance - Harry would die instead. If that happened, he knew the fight wouldn't be over - no matter their grief, the Order and his friends would stay strong, would stay defiant. He couldn't imagine them lying down in defeat.
But truth be told, he was scared. He was fifteen years old, and he didn't want to die. He thought of his parents, and wondered if they ever felt this way. He had heard so many adjectives that described Lily and James Potter - strong. Stalwart. Defiant. Unafraid. They hadn't hesitated to stand up to Voldemort, joining the Order and fighting for a better world for their fellow witches, wizards, Muggles, and magical creatures.
But the night Voldemort had come to Godric's Hollow when the Potters had thought themselves safe ... the recollection brought forth by the Dementors had shown Harry that in that moment, James had sounded afraid. No, not just afraid - terrified. "Lily! Take Harry and go! It's him! Go! Run! I'll hold him off ..."
Had he been scared for himself, as well as Lily and Harry? What thoughts had gone through his mind at that moment? Had he thought of Sirius and Remus, and that he would never see them again? Had he felt hatred for Peter, wondering why one of his brothers in all but blood had betrayed him?
Harry once again remembered his mother and father coming out of Voldemort's wand, their expressions as they pleaded for him to hold on, to stay strong. Even as the ghostly forms they'd been, Harry could see the love and sorrow in their eyes, the wish to embrace him, to reassure him that it would all be okay. He recalled Sirius's passionate words as Harry had blamed himself for their deaths, the desperate way in which Sirius had told him that his decisions, his incarceration, was not Harry's fault. He had tried his best to remember those words every time the guilt attempted to drown him, the knowledge that if not for the prophecy, his parents might still be alive.
But it was hard. The last few days had been harder than Harry ever could have imagined. The memories of the last attack, the screams of those Muggles as Harry remembered the joy Voldemort felt when he killed them ... the recollection of holding that yew wand in his long, white fingers, enunciating with murderous intent, "Crucio ..." He wanted to purge himself of those memories. He wanted to ask Sirius to cast an Obliviate on him so he wouldn't have to recall it.
But he had to remember. He had to remember, because he had to fight. Those memories gave him incentive to work harder, because Voldemort had to be stopped. And every day that Harry didn't work as hard as he could was another day that the monster could plot and carry out attacks against innocent people who only wanted to live their lives in peace.
And what if he really did fail? What if, the next time he inevitably went up against Voldemort, he was beaten and the madman killed him? Even though he knew the Order and his friends wouldn't lay down and give up, what would the rest of the wizarding world think?
"It does not matter what others expect of you." How many times had he heard that from Sirius? Hadn't Sturgis said Saturday night that he'd already done more than what should be expected of him? Hadn't the Weasleys been enraged on his behalf when the Daily Prophet speculated about his home life and why he wasn't happy with his relatives? He'd been told more than once that he shouldn't put so much stock in what others thought.
But after hearing the prophecy, he couldn't help the dark futures that swam through his head. He saw Diagon Alley burning. He saw Muggle-borns enslaved, tortured, and murdered. He saw Muggles, terrified out of their minds as the world destroyed itself around them. He saw Hogwarts, now Voldemort's Headquarters, no longer the school he had once loved and cherished as his home. And all the while, one phrase echoed through his head as the wizarding world blamed and hated him for not bringing down the bad guy. "The Boy Who Failed," they chanted as the Dark Mark became an even bigger symbol of despair.
"Mr. Potter."
The sharp voice of Emmeline Vance jolted Harry into sudden awareness. It was incredibly jarring, and he realized with a sinking feeling that he had, once again, been revived after a Stunning spell from Emmeline's wand had hit him directly in the chest. For what felt like the thousandth time that day, she had wiped the floor with him in a duel.
"I'm sorry," Harry babbled immediately, only feeling worse about himself. If he couldn't beat Emmeline in a duel, what chance would he have against the most powerful dark wizard in a century?
Harry allowed Emmeline to pull him to his feet, and he couldn't bring himself to look her in the eye. He knew he'd only see disappointment and judgement in her gaze - at least, that was what he expected to see.
His tumultuous thoughts had had a very negative effect on his lessons today and yesterday. Yesterday, he'd had Sturgis in the morning and Moody in the afternoon. Sturgis had been the most understanding, and Harry had done his best to think about his words from Saturday night about focusing on the lives he'd saved, rather than those he couldn't. Still, it was easier said than done, and he almost couldn't bear the gentle way Sturgis looked at him - he understood, more than Harry wanted to comprehend. His Defense and History of Magic lesson went on as usual, but Sturgis couldn't hide the concern in his voice and eyes. He urged Harry to take care of himself before he left, and to rest and recuperate as needed.
Moody, also aware of Harry's scar link, had looked at him in an all-too-knowing fashion when he arrived for Occlumency training. Like Sturgis had on the night it happened, he'd guessed how McGonagall had come by the information. They did not discuss it, and Harry put the memory of Sirius telling him about the prophecy into the Pensieve before the lesson began. Still, his attempts at getting Moody out of his mind were sloppy at best. He expected the grizzled ex-Auror to at least look disappointed, but he said nothing at all. Instead, he'd simply patted Harry's shoulder after the lesson and said gruffly, "Do take care of yourself, Potter."
Harry, still feeling guilty for his complete and utter failure, had just stared at Moody as he began to leave the room. Just like with Sturgis the other night, he suddenly felt like he needed to reveal to Moody what had happened. He hadn't wanted him to see the actual memory - that was too painful - but he could at least tell it in words. "Sirius told me about the prophecy. I told him to," he blurted simply.
Moody turned back around, his expression unreadable. After a few seconds, he patted Harry's shoulder again and repeated the words he'd spoken only moments ago, but this time, they were somehow gentler. "Do take care of yourself, Potter."
And now, he was facing Emmeline. She had always been strict with him - she tolerated no nonsense. Harry had always noticed that she seemed to show very little feeling. He thought that the most emotion he'd seen from her was the night Sturgis had worked himself to burnout while singing at the top of his lungs. He honestly wondered how she'd reacted upon learning what a Horcrux was - after all, he hadn't been allowed to attend that Order meeting.
"I do not need your apologies, Mr. Potter. Sit," she said simply, pointing to a chair.
"I promise, I'll do better," Harry said in desperation. "Please don't give up on me." He cursed himself for sounding like a stupid, vulnerable child at that moment. "I'm sorry I'm wasting your time."
"Mr. Potter. Sit down. I will not repeat myself again," Emmeline said in a tone that brooked no argument. Feeling like the bottom of his stomach had dropped out, Harry did as he was told and sat down.
"Now, I would like to make one thing clear," Emmeline said after a few seconds of unbearable silence. However, her next words were not what Harry had expected. "I do not give my time to those who waste it. If you were wasting my time, I would have already left this house."
Harry gaped at her, not knowing what to say. Silently, he waited for her to continue.
"It is obvious that there is a reason why you are lacking in focus and concentration today," Emmeline went on. "And I am not going to ask you to tell me what it is. It is not my place to pry into your personal business. You, like everyone else, have a right to privacy."
"I'm sorry," Harry said, unable to stop himself. The truth was, as much as he liked Emmeline, he realized that he didn't feel quite as comfortable with her as he did with the others. He had an enormous amount of respect for her, and her strictness didn't bother him too much - after all, she was no Severus Snape. She didn't constantly throw insults at him, or blather on and on about how his father was a spoiled, arrogant brat. She was always real with him and didn't mince words. Still, something about her standoffishness held him back. She didn't know about the scar link, and he hadn't told her about the prophecy. But he couldn't lie to her, either. He couldn't deny that yes, indeed, there was something haunting him.
Thankfully, Emmeline nodded, not reprimanding him again for apologizing. In that moment, her eyes seemed to soften. "I do understand," she said quietly, "that you have had to deal with situations no one should have to. It is incredibly unfair." She looked at him, her gaze suddenly intense, and in that moment Harry saw something undefinable blazing in her eyes.
"There is no weakness in asking for help, Mr. Potter," she said, her voice still quiet, yet it made Harry sit up straighter in his chair and listen. "Whether it is from me, one or more of your other tutors, any other Order member, or your godfather. Whether the help is for your emotional needs, or to help with your physical training - that is up to you. Perhaps you can think of something that will assist you in both areas. All I know is that I, for one, will certainly not give up on you."
Once again, Harry heard the voices of the Dursleys in his head. "Are you deaf, boy? I said no, I would not help you! What part of that do you not understand, you idiotic freak? Only weak fools ever ask for assistance."
"You heard what your uncle said, you little brat. Now go to the garden, before I drag you there. GET ON WITH IT!"
Harry chased those voices away - that, at least, was becoming much easier to do. And hadn't Sirius said only yesterday that all Harry had to do was ask, and Sirius would do what he could for him? Hadn't the man been saying that all summer?
"You need all your focus in these lessons, and I know you're aware of that," Emmeline continued. "And I also know that you need to depend on the strength of those you care about most, and who care for you equally."
The words came out before Harry could stop them. "But what if I lose them?" he whispered, instantly cursing himself for becoming so exposed in front of this hardened, fierce woman. "What if I can't save them?"
Emmeline looked at him, that indefinable something in her eyes again. "You cannot save everyone."
The words were not said unkindly - they were delivered in a blunt tone that made Harry hang his head. "I know," he said quietly.
"You're frightened," said Emmeline, and the words were, once again, just the truth. "And if you weren't, you would be a fool."
Harry was suddenly hit with a bolt of realization. Without thinking of the consequences of his next words, he said, "You lost people you loved last time, didn't you? You ... you couldn't save them." In the next second, Harry gasped. He couldn't believe he'd just said that out loud. Emmeline had told him she wouldn't pry into his personal business, and yet he had just pried into hers.
He opened his mouth, ready to apologize again, but Emmeline's quiet words stopped him. For the first time, he heard pain in her voice. Her gaze was direct. "My entire family was killed, Mr. Potter," she said softly. "My mother, my father, my sister, my two brothers. It was, apparently, the price of my defiance."
Harry stared back, horrified. "I ... I ..."
Her gaze softened. "Thank you," she said quietly, knowing what Harry wanted to say. "It has only given me incentive to continue fighting."
Harry's respect for her climbed even higher in that moment. He felt guilt consume him - he should tell her what had been haunting him, why he'd been so terrible at duelling today.
But Emmeline held up a hand. "Don't," she said sharply. "You do not need to tell me what is wrong simply because you feel sympathy for something that I have been dealing with since it happened in 1980. I would like you to be truly comfortable with me if you decide to divulge the information." She turned towards the fireplace. "All I ask is that you seek help from those you love. And if you do that, I have every reason to think that you will do better in our next lesson."
Her eyes grew even more serious as they gazed into Harry's, practically boring into him as she spoke again. "And, above all, you need to take care of yourself." Harry was reminded of that night with Sturgis when she'd practically said the same thing. Then she added, "It is sometimes better to rest so you can fight another day, rather than use up all your strength and have no fight left."
With that, she departed through the Floo, leaving Harry with an awful lot to think about.
xxx
Sirius had been incredibly worried about his godson's emotional state ever since the night of the vision and the revelation about the prophecy. After Sturgis had left, the boy had allowed himself to cry in Sirius's arms for a long time. In fact, the poor kid had cried himself to sleep.
Had it been too much? Sirius couldn't help but worry if he'd made the right decision in regards to telling him. After everything Harry had been through that summer, how cruel was it to place this on him, too? What would Lily and James have done, if they'd still been alive and had to be the ones to tell their son that the world had been placed on his shoulders? Would they be angry with him for telling Harry the truth?
But how could he have lied to him? Harry had already known that Sirius was hiding something, and lying to him was unthinkable. And that maturity Sirius had seen shining in the boy's emerald eyes was unmistakable. It was maturity he had not possessed at that age - not at all. At fifteen, he'd been running around pulling pranks, snogging girls, and getting detentions. At fifteen, he'd been hexing Slytherins, not turning in homework on time, and being purposely late to class.
However, the effects of the war were starting to be felt at Hogwarts. And Sirius had certainly felt it in his own home. At Grimmauld Place, the conflict had been all too real as he screamed at his mother, sneered at his father, and spat at his brother. Only now, the recollection of Regulus filled him with pain and regret rather than resentment and anger.
But the maturity he'd seen in Harry's eyes ... his godson had the right to know. It was his life, after all. And just like Sirius knew he would be, Harry was ready to fight. He was ready to give it all, to put himself in the line of fire and save all those whom he loved. And the other night, he had saved innocents whom he didn't know. Sirius knew the boy would stop at nothing to save a life - even that of someone he hated. He could very much imagine Harry doing what James had done when he saved Snape from Sirius's utter stupidity. His best friend could have very easily gotten himself killed that night. Sirius could see Harry doing the very same thing for Draco Malfoy - or, he thought with heartbreak, for Vernon bloody Dursley, a man who was truly, in Sirius's opinion, a waste of air. After all, he'd done that for Peter Pettigrew just over a year ago.
But Sirius had always known that James was a better person than him - that Harry was a better person than him. Both James and Harry had forgiven him for things he didn't deserve to be forgiven for. All Sirius could do now was live by their examples, especially Harry's, whose emerald eyes were Sirius's hope for a better future.
Oh, those eyes. In the three days since the revelation, they had been filled with doubt and turmoil. Sirius had given him space, letting the boy come to him in his own time. Sunday had been a quiet day - both godfather and godson were struggling to come to terms with what had happened. They spent most of it on the couch listening to music, both speaking sporadically and not really knowing what to say. Sirius could tell that Harry needed to talk, but didn't want to push him, either, when everything felt so fragile.
He knew things hadn't gone well for Harry on Monday, although the boy had told him that both Sturgis and Moody had been very understanding. That evening, they'd gone to Sturgis's evening gathering - Sirius thought Harry might not want to, but when he was all too willing to attend, Sirius realized he needed a distraction, and a morale booster. Sturgis had delivered, as always, and Sirius was incredibly relieved to see that the man was trying to take better care of himself ever since he'd worked himself to burnout and been told by the Order to damn well look after himself. In fact, that night had seemed to bring the Order closer together, and when Sirius closed his eyes, he could vividly recall Hestia, Kingsley, Dedalus, and Tonks singing that song, The Circle. He wondered where that beautiful melody had originated.
Harry had certainly looked better once they'd returned last night, but this morning he'd looked exhausted. It was obvious he wasn't sleeping well, but he'd attempted to be brave and told Sirius not to worry. Well, it was far too late for that - Sirius was worried.
What should Sirius do? He wanted Harry to be able to tell him things at his own pace, but it was killing him. He could only imagine the thoughts that were going through the kid's head, and it made him sick to his stomach at the unfairness of it all.
What Sirius hadn't expected was the breakthrough that came when he and Harry were sitting down, eating lunch. Softly, Harry admitted, "I didn't do well in lessons today, either. Emmeline kept beating me in every duel. She ... she stopped the lesson and told me to sit down," he said quietly. "I thought she was angry with me."
"She wasn't, was she?" Sirius asked, instantly feeling indignant on Harry's behalf. Emmeline Vance had no idea what Harry was dealing with. A second later, he remembered that she had lost her family in the First War, and sympathy filled him. Still, the last thing Harry needed was anyone being harsh with him when he was dealing with so much.
"No," Harry said, and Sirius relaxed. "She ... she does understand. She said that I ... that I can't save everyone and that I ..." He took a deep breath. "That I need to ask for help," he said in a rush. "Whether it's for my emotional needs, my physical training, or both."
Sirius smiled softly. "That's so ... Emmeline," he said, thinking of her no-nonsense manner. He ought to have had more faith in her than to think she'd be unkind to Harry.
"She also said that I'd be a fool if I wasn't scared," Harry went on. His eyes filled with sadness, and he was about to say something else, but closed his mouth at the last minute.
"She told you," Sirius said quietly. "About her family." It was a statement, not a question.
"Yeah." Harry sighed. "Do you reckon that's why she's so ..."
"Hardened?" Sirius finished for him. "Yes, I do."
Leaning back in his chair, Harry sighed again. "I don't think she wants me to be like her," he whispered. "I think that's also why she wants me to ask for help."
Sirius took Harry's hand in his own. "I've told you, kiddo. I'm here, whatever you need," he reassured quietly.
There were several minutes of silence, and Sirius could see that Harry's mind was whirring. Finally, he took another deep breath and said, "I keep having nightmares. About what would happen to the world if I failed."
Sirius's first reaction was to tell Harry that he wouldn't fail, that he was stronger than Voldemort and that good always triumphed over evil. In the stories he had told Regulus, good always beat bad and everybody lived happily ever after.
But then, he remembered bitterly that those kind of magical stories were far from reality. After all, in those stories, young men didn't turn into traitors who told red-eyed monsters where their best friends were hiding. Babies didn't become orphans who spent their childhood growing up in a house with relatives who hated them. The children in Sirius's old stories went to school to learn - they didn't spend their education constantly dodging death, enduring accusations of murdering someone they wanted nothing more than to save, and being told they had to save the world or die trying. In the real world, bad things happened to those who least deserved it.
And Sirius was terrified of Voldemort killing Harry, but he never thought of it as Harry failing - he always thought of it as himself failing Harry. If Voldemort killed him, it would hardly be the boy's fault. It was on those who were responsible for him to protect him. It was why there had been a huge part of Sirius that fiercely hoped for Harry to defy the prophecy, to stand up and say that he refused to fight for a wizarding world that continued to scapegoat him, continued not to have faith in him. They'd accused him of MURDER, for Merlin's sake!
But Harry was far too good for that. He was determined to fight Voldemort, and because Sirius knew the madman would never stop coming after Harry, he knew the boy needed the skills to survive.
And now, Harry was asking for help, and Sirius knew he couldn't let emotion get the best of him. His pup needed him now, and Sirius thought of Lily and James and what they'd asked of him. He couldn't fall apart - that wasn't going to help Harry fight the demons, both external and internal.
"I know you think I'm not going to fail," Harry said softly, "and I appreciate that more than you know. But I think I need more than talking to help me past the nightmares and the doubts." He faced Sirius, and for the first time in three days, Sirius saw his emerald eyes sparkling with purpose, with motivation. "Has there been any progress with the Horcrux?" he asked, hesitating over the disgusting-sounding word.
Sirius instantly understood one of Harry's biggest sources of worry and fear, and he felt his heart sink. "There has been no progress as of yet," he said, knowing he could only tell Harry the truth even though he hated every word of it. "Bill, Moody, and I are doing more research tomorrow. If I find out anything at all, I promise to tell you."
Harry nodded, looking downcast and weary. But then, he sighed, straightened, and asked, "Can you help me with my spellwork, like you helped me with schoolwork during the summer? Like ... like duelling and things? And do you know anything about Muggle duelling?" The words were rushing from him now. "Like Sturgis is teaching me?"
Sirius placed a hand on Harry's shoulder, his heart full to bursting with both pride and worry. "Of course I can help you with your spellwork. I can't say I know much about Muggle duelling, but if you'd like, I could ask Sturgis about it."
Some of the weight seemed to lift from Harry's shoulders at Sirius's agreement. "You'll help me?"
"Of course I will." Sirius pulled Harry to his feet and embraced him. "I'll do anything to make this easier for you," he whispered, unable to help the surge of emotion that filled him. Gently touching Harry's cheek, he murmured, "Just don't strain yourself. You ... you can't save everyone," he added painfully.
"You sound like Emmeline." Harry's voice was muffled against Sirius's robes. He then told Sirius what she'd said about sometimes needing to rest so you could fight another day.
Sirius once again remembered that night with Sturgis, recalled the soft voices of the four Order members singing The Circle. He remembered a time, almost sixteen years ago, when Sturgis had scared him senseless. Thinking of that incident, even all these years later, still caused his heart to race. He promised himself that he would not allow his godson to burn himself out. Kissing the top of Harry's head, Sirius said softly, "I agree."
xxx
Harry had put his all into duelling after his Divination lesson with Bill that afternoon. It was obvious that he was tired, so Sirius made sure that they didn't keep it up for too long. But he could see the determination in Harry's eyes, and was continuously awed by it.
It was around four o'clock when Sirius received the Floo call from Minerva McGonagall. Harry was in his room taking a short nap when the fireplace in the drawing room flared up with green flames, and her head appeared there, calling out, "Sirius?"
"Minerva?" Sirius was fully alert. "What's happened?"
"There is an Order meeting in an hour. I realize it's short notice, and I wanted to let you know personally. Mr. Potter is also required to attend," she stated.
Sirius's heart leapt into his throat. "What's happened?" he demanded, his hackles raised at once.
"I was finally able to procure a meeting with the school governors. It took place this morning," McGonagall said. "I would like to make everyone aware of the recent developments."