Chapter One - An Old Friend

"I do believe in the light. Raise your hands into the sky. The fight is done, the war is won. Lift your hands toward the sun."

(This Is War - Thirty Seconds To Mars)

This story can also be found on Archive of Our Own: This Is War by RJLupin19(My Archive name)

Harry was back.

Her nephew was back, and Petunia could see how something had happened to him again at that school.

Just like last summer all over again, always at that school! Then they send him back to us all messed up with no explanation, and we have to deal with him! Petunia thought to herself with annoyance as they drove away from King's Cross station.

Vernon began to let out all of his anger and annoyance for his inconvenience of having to drive all the way to London by lecturing the boy. Petunia couldn't blame her husband for it. After everything that happened last summer, Vernon had felt like he was taken for a fool when they found Harry running around in London, and Snape threatening him when he tried disciplining the boy. Then not long after that, the way Snape barged into their home and attacked Vernon and had the audacity to ask them to give up their guardian rights over Harry and pass it to him. The things Snape accused them of… How dare he! He was no saint either! Petunia felt the irritation of it. After all of that, the audacity for the boy to come crawling back without barely an explanation, making them drive through traffic all the way to London and back just to pick him up! Like they were some sort of cab service!

But the irritation was short-lived when she began to observe her nephew. The grief he had last summer had drowned him into a dark hole of self-harm and depression. This time it was different. This was darker, deeper, and heavier.

Petunia wondered what could cause such a thing in him. Was it possible that her nephew lost another person he cared about? Because the way Harry looked to her, it really did remind her of the way he looked last summer after he'd lost his godfather, and now another type of grief has burrowed itself right on top of that.

That observation sent a horror-filled chill down Petunia's spine of what that could mean.

Who was it this time?

And deep down inside, Petunia knew the answer to that question. Because of course she noticed Snape's absence, she wondered about him as they exited King's Cross.

Petunia wondered why Snape wasn't there to see Harry off, instead it was that other man, the one with the kind-looking face, graying hair and hazel eyes. He seemed to be carrying a haunted way about him. Now that Petunia was looking back on it, it was the first thing she noticed. That man lost somebody, also, he looked familiar. Petunia was certain she might have met him at one point through Lily.

It was rather strange that Severus Snape had been nowhere in sight. The letter that had been sent to them was by Harry, and Snape wasn't mentioned in it. The note didn't explain much either, just that it was important for Harry to return for a short period of time to ensure the security of the wards over Privet Drive. That the school was closing early and if they could please pick him up at King's Cross station. Vernon almost didn't agree, ready to just throw the letter away, but because of the wards were mentioned, Petunia was forced to stop him and write a quick response confirming they would be there.

What happened to Severus Snape?

Petunia remembered how angry Snape had been at her and Vernon for the way they raised Harry, wondering why he cared so much. She wondered why he had taken it upon himself to take Harry into his care. Whatever the reasons were, Petunia had a feeling that Snape would have done everything in his power to prevent Harry from returning to Privet Drive; he had made that more than clear the last time she had seen him… So, what happened? Unless…unless he wasn't around anymore to stop this. And she remembered again the haunted way that man seemed to be lost under. The grief Harry was shadowed with. Was Snape the cause of their grief? That man, was he friends with Snape? Petunia couldn't imagine anyone wanting to be friends with him, but were they close enough for Snape's absence to cause such an affect? She didn't know any of the answers to her questions, perhaps would never know. She didn't know that man, really, anything could have caused him to look like that, maybe he was just a melancholy man.

But the question still burned in Petunia, despite all of her musings and confusion.

Was Snape's absence the reason for all of this? And if so, what happened? She really did have a strong feeling that if he were here on this earth, he would never allow Harry to return to her and Vernon's care, especially after how hard he fought for Harry… And the only way this could happen was if something had happened to him… Something terrible like… Oh…good heavens! Did Severus Snape somehow die?

And paired with regret of that being possibly true, a sudden and unexpected grief erupted in her. It shocked Petunia to her core. She didn't want that grief, not for Snape. It was like an irritating blister on her foot. She never liked that Snape boy who stole Lily from her when they were children. She wanted to be happy about his possible death. It would be a good riddance to someone so cruel and vile and strange. She never trusted Snape. He was strange as a child, stranger than Harry was. When they first met, Petunia thought Snape seemed like the type of bully who would murder your pet. She had once told that to Lily who had taken a great offense to her remark, but Petunia still stood by her words.

And even though Petunia couldn't be as happy for Snape being gone as she wished and expected herself to be, she couldn't deny the fact that Snape wasn't that creepy boy anymore. He'd grown up, he changed. He seemed to really care for Harry, something Petunia couldn't truly do herself. Perhaps, it was a deep shame for Harry at least, that Severus Snape might've lost his life…

Petunia studied Harry from the rearview mirror, looking for any signs in her nephew to see if her suspicions about Snape were true. She saw the way his green eyes were far away and searching, as if he were looking for someone in the trees, the passing cars and buildings. Harry only tore his attention away from the window when Vernon called for his attention. Those bright-green eyes, so much like Lily's, it still hurt Petunia to look directly at them. Bright-green eyes behind round glasses, just like James Potter. Harry hid his grief well, but in those eyes it was all there. They were haunted, just like how that man in the parking-lot was.

Petunia wondered again and again who that man was to Harry, recognizing him as a person who experienced loss just like she had with the death of her parents. It was easier to see that type of loss in others once a person had gone through it themself. And Harry and that man, they were filled with it.

Maybe it had been a mistake to allow Snape to take Harry from her and Vernon. Maybe it had been a mistake to try to trust Snape simply because of what he meant to Lily. Petunia hadn't really even trusted Snape, she trusted Lily. Her sister had loved that man who was once her best friend, and Petunia never understood why.

Not knowing what truly happened, if Snape had died or had done something to Harry, all the possible reasons, some darker than others, they all swirled around her, making Petunia feel sick. The motion of the car speeding on the highway did not help at all. Because signing custody of Harry away to a man she didn't really know, it was another careless mistake from Petunia that only resulted in her sister's son getting hurt again. Anything might have happened. Maybe Severus Snape wasn't dead. Maybe it was something that he had done to Harry that had made him feel unsafe to be around, something that perhaps resulted in him losing custody…

Suddenly the embarrassment of all this, of this being her fault again. Her shame that she failed Lily again, it all washed over Petunia. It was all so overwhelming, causing her to feel hot and uncomfortable in her own skin. She couldn't bear the idea of owning up to the fact that she didn't protect Harry enough as she should have. Petunia knew that Lily would have wanted Petunia to protect Harry, what their parents would have wanted, knowing that if the roles were reversed and Petunia was the one that had died, she knew Lily would have loved Dudley as equally as she loved Harry.

Petunia knew that without a doubt, and that was what made her feel so much worse. Maybe if she was a better person and had it in herself to love Harry as much as her own son, then perhaps a happy and healthy teenage boy would be sitting in her back seat, not this haunted boy who was so quiet and filled with fear and loss. Petunia did that to him. Her careless mistakes, her anger and hatred, her cold-unforgiving heart did that to her only nephew. She abused him, allowed Vernon to abuse him, and encouraged their own son to bully Harry. But Petunia couldn't bear to own up to all of that. So she locked it all away by placing blame…

If only Harry wasn't so strange. If he hadn't been born with magic or Lily… If she had never met that Snape! Better yet, if magic never existed, then it wouldn't be around to kill mum and dad, take Lily away from me, leaving me alone with an unwanted child…a dangerous child… Maybe if they all died from normal causes, maybe then I would have loved him, then it wouldn't be his fault…

All of that blame blinded her from the truth again, keeping it all out of reach and unseen, until Petunia felt free and clean and light once again, happy to despise her nephew without any other feelings getting in the way.

Petunia wondered about Harry's self-harm instead. She contemplated whether she should pull Harry aside to talk to him about it or not. She didn't want that nonsense going on under her roof, didn't want to find a body one morning if he should go too far. And it led to the bigger question she had to figure out. How should she treat Harry now that he was back, after what happened last summer?

Should she be the version of Aunt Petunia that Harry always knew her as, grew up with, the aunt who hated him and didn't care if he was hurt? Or should Petunia be the version of herself that she showed to him last summer? The aunt who wrote to the school's headmaster about her concerns of her nephew committing self-harm, the version of herself telling Harry that he still has a place in her home. The one who wanted to do right by Lily and make sure he received the help he needed.

Petunia entertained that possibility for a while in her head, but then she began to really see the fear in Harry everytime he looked at Vernon. The way he flinched and shrunk into himself every time the word freak was thrown at him. As if it were an invisible blow to him each time.

She caught Harry glancing at her several times too. She looked away each time he did that, each time he pierced her with that green stare full of confusion and hurt, his expectations of wanting her to defend him, to protect him against her husband was loud, but she couldn't do that. He was asking for too much when Petunia was already struggling on how to be around him, what version of herself she should give him. That bright-green stare, it only made her feel worse about herself, made it harder to keep up the delusion of the happy and perfect family life between her and Vernon, the one she worked so hard to create for Dudley, and she began to hate Harry for seeing the truth of it.

As she watched the passing houses go by, Petunia realized that she couldn't do it. She couldn't be the aunt Harry needed her to be, because then she would have to face the truth of her and her husband being child abusers. She couldn't bear to accept that, to acknowledge it or even admit to it herself. It was safer to pretend that everything was okay and perfect, that Harry just needed a bit of rough discipline because of the magic rushing through in his bloodstream, rough discipline to keep him in line. It was what was best for him.

And so in that moment, Petunia decided to treat Harry the same way she has always treated him.

What was the point in even trying to change for him, to start seeing the truth about herself and Vernon that she refused to see if Harry was just going to disappear once he turned seventeen? Soon he wouldn't be their problem anymore, and something in her gut was telling her that things in the magical world were not going so well. The things she's been noticing on the news, the numbers of freak accidents that had killed whole families were suddenly rising… Freak accidents… But Petunia knew what that really meant, and she was deeply afraid that soon it could be her family on the news like that. It made her more set on her decision on how to be around Harry, causing her to hate Harry even more for bringing such danger to them, to her Dudley especially.

A small prick of regret went through her when she realized death was also in Harry's future just like his parents, like his godfather and possibly Snape, but she mentally scrubbed it away as if it were a germ on her skin. She reminded herself that there really was no point in trying to act like she cared for that boy sitting in the back seat. He was just going to die because of magic anyways, so she continued to sit quietly in her seat, fixing her face to one of indifference in hopes that it would stop Harry from glancing at her again as Vernon continued to lecture and lecture, nodding along with whatever he was saying, feeling herself disassociate from her nephew, knowing that Harry was seeing a face on her that looked like she was just as equally bothered as Vernon that he was back under their care for the summer.

His first night at Privet Drive, Harry couldn't sleep. His bedroom was so uncomfortably warm, causing him to sweat. The summer heat had finally arrived. No fan was ever given to him during the past summers, so he didn't expect one now. At least he wasn't in his cupboard anymore, remembering how hot and stuffy it used to get inside there.

Instead of sleeping, Harry looked around the four white walls of his tiny bedroom. Everything looked exactly the same since the last time he was here. He never thought he would have to be back in this room again, it took all of last summer to start to believe that. He was promised so many times over by Severus and Remus that it would never happen, but yet, here he was. It was so surreal, like he was living in one of his nightmares. Harry shifted a bit, causing the bed to creak from his movement. He forgot how uncomfortable this bed was, it was as if every spring were poking out and digging into him.

Harry tried to find the bright side of his situation… At least I was the one who chose to come back here… It was my choice… It'll just be a month… That's only five weeks… I've been here much longer, all I've got to do is keep my head down and just do as told…

Just five weeks until he turned seventeen at the end of July, then Harry wouldn't be considered a child anymore. Then he could leave Privet Drive for good and never look back, never fear that he would have to return here ever again. That no one could force him back here.

After they arrived back to Privet Drive from King's Cross station, the Dursleys had ignored him for the rest of the day.

But still, Harry feared his uncle's fists. Memories of every beating that he had received in this house shook him to his core. It came back to him behind closed eye-lids, another reason why he couldn't sleep tonight.

He'd kept himself hidden in his room, afraid to go downstairs, even when Dudley knocked on his door and told him dinner was ready. Harry didn't open the door, didn't call back to his cousin. He didn't join the Dursleys for dinner that only made his stomach feel queasy at the thought of food. The last time he ate was lunch on the train, it had been hours since, but instead of hunger, Harry felt a large pocketful of air in his chest that was making it hard to breathe.

He could hear them downstairs, the muffled sounds of dinner conversation, a laugh or two, the sound of the kitchen television. Harry hid himself in the corner of his room, back against the wall and his face pressed into his lap, shaking so very hard, afraid, waiting for his uncle, expecting Uncle Vernon to come upstairs and punish him for ignoring Dudley's dinner call. He should do it, go down and join them, sit at the table with them and try his best to eat, but Harry couldn't do it.

Then the evening turned into night and Uncle Vernon never came to punish him. It was at that realization that finally made Harry snap out of his trance of panic and fear, and he was able to get himself ready for bed.

But as the night grew later and he couldn't sleep, and Harry found himself staring at the walls with memories of his childhood haunting him everytime he tried closing his eyes, Harry realized he was alone here. And that fear that he had felt so strongly in the evening, it came back to him, stronger, a new type of fear, but one he was no stranger to.

A fear that Harry hadn't felt since he was a little kid locked in the cupboard under the stairs. A fear that had Harry listening for the creaking sounds from above, the kind that only footsteps could make. A type of fear that reminded Harry of a breath that reeked of alcohol. Reminded him of reaching hands in the dark that grabbed and pulled and turned into fists beating against his small body, fists that turned into a vice-like grip around his neck until he couldn't breathe. It was the monster in the shadows, that special kind of fear that Harry grew up with in the night, suddenly it was there again. It was sitting beside him like an old friend that Harry had left behind at Privet Drive, an old friend he tried so hard to forget.

And like Harry, it had grown. It had changed. It was stronger, fiercer, more all-consuming than it once was, to the point where Harry feared he may not even be able to handle it.

Maybe it was because he finally had a chance to experience what it was like to be part of a normal and loving family. That he was once a son with two fathers who loved him unconditionally. For a moment there, Harry had a family, he was wanted and not a burden, a waste of space. For a moment there he had gotten out of Privet Drive forever, but now he was back as if nothing ever happened, as if it were all a dream.

And what was the reason for it if it was all just going to be lost, if it was just going to leave him standing alone in the rubble of brick and broken trust?

Those thoughts caused his hands to shake. Harry held them up to his face, seeing the outlines of his fingers trembling under the glow of the orange streetlights that were seeping in through the window, illuminating the dark bedroom. He suddenly felt the urge to get up and find something that he could press against his skin with, press it hard until beads of red relieving pain escaped him, press it hard until he couldn't feel anything inside anymore.

He could really do it if he wanted to.

This room was never searched for sharp objects.

Harry entertained that scenario in his head, allowing his imagination to play it all out. How it would feel, how it would make everything better for just a little while…

Then glancing at the window, Harry suddenly thought of Remus. Would he know if Harry gave into wanting to cut? Would the sound of it bring his papa to his room? Then he could see for himself that Remus was really out there keeping watch, and he wouldn't have to feel so alone anymore… What if Uncle Vernon decided to come into his room to punish him, would Remus hear it? Would he stop it?

Uncle Vernon had given Harry an earful of a lecture during the car ride home from the train station all the way back to Privet Drive. He ranted about Harry running away last summer and daring to expect him and Aunt Petunia to just take him back with no questions asked. For humiliating their family name by begging to people for money on the streets and for Harry refusing to go back with him and Aunt Petunia when they found him in London. Harry didn't have the energy to point out that the name Potter wasn't at all related to the Dursleys.

"What if one of our neighbors or friends had seen you and recognized you? What they might've thought?!

Who the bloody hell was that man with the ruddy long hair threatening me that day? Then later showing up at our doorstep, accusing me and Petunia of such things!"

Then that led into a harsher scolding about Harry going around and telling stories about being abused by them at school, for making them look bad, for gaining pity from his teachers enough that one of them wanted custody over him, and for lying, always lying.

"You rotten little liar, ungrateful kid! You're nothing but a little delinquent destined to be a bum on the streets, exactly how your father was, I can tell you that!

And who was that bum you were just with, who also just threatened me?! Can't you believe, Pet, that he had the audacity to pull out his you-know-what in broad daylight where anyone could see? Why are you keeping company like that, boy! You're lucky Petunia and I had the decency to come and get you after everything you've done!

That bloke looked like a drug-addicted street bum with his ragged clothes and scars on his face. You better not be doing drugs, boy! Don't you dare steal from us so you can buy drugs and alcohol from the streets! I won't allow that kind of behavior under my roof or you would be back on the streets so fast or better yet, behind bars!"

"That's where little freaks like you belong!" Uncle Vernon roared as he drove.

That word caused Harry to flinch.

Freaks!

It was as if he'd been punched in the gut. It was hard to hear it be thrown at him so hatefully after a year of Severus and Remus working so hard together in convincing Harry that he wasn't a freak. When that happened, Harry remembered catching Petunia's eye in the rearview mirror, wondering if she might say something but she only looked away.

Harry turned away, focusing his attention to the passing cars and buildings, the trees, the birds flying in the sky. They looked so far away. He wondered if the Order was out there, unseen, following the car as promised. Was Remus with them?

Uncle Vernon carried on and on until his words lost all meaning, until his scolding couldn't be heard anymore and all Harry could see was the movement of his uncle's jaw, the shade of an ugly maroon coloring the back of Uncle Vernon's neck and ears.

Dudley had been sitting beside Harry, not saying a single word in Harry's defense, which he never expected from his cousin. It was no hard feelings, but Harry could sense Dudley glancing at him every now and then out of his peripheral vision. He paid Dudley no mind.

Aunt Petunia just continued to stare out of her window. Her lips were pursed, her eyes distant and hard, nodding along every now and then to her husband, as if she really thought Harry deserved this brutal lecture. It was as if everything she said to Harry last summer had never happened. All of that rubbish Aunt Petunia told Harry about, of feeling guilty for how she raised him, what Lily might think of her and how she wanted to make up for it… Well, this was her chance to stick up for Harry and prove her wishes right…

Harry silently willed his aunt to say something… Just tell him that I'm not a freak! Just that one thing to prove to Harry that last summer wasn't just some strange dream, that the conversations they had really happened. Or just maybe look him in the eye, that way Harry could see that he really wasn't the delinquent Uncle Vernon was painting Harry to be in his lecture, not a rotten kid who deserves this kind of treatment. He was their nephew who was supposed to be family to them. Harry shared the same blood as Aunt Petunia and Dudley, wouldn't that mean anything to her? Harry, who just lost someone that was as close as a father to him, whose future was shadowed over with war, and did Aunt Petunia know that? Did she care? I'm your sister's son!

But of course she didn't know, the Dursleys didn't know because they didn't care to take the time to ask Harry or learn who he grew to be since the last time they saw him. They didn't even care to ask what had happened to Severus being his new guardian, surely they must have known about that? They signed the guardian transfer documents. Weren't they wondering?

Most likely not, and the helplessness of them not caring, it filled Harry up. And why was it hurting so bad? This treatment from his aunt and uncle was nothing new. Harry grew up with them always making him feel as if he didn't matter, that he was nothing but a little freak who made their lives difficult, who always needed to be punished for bad behavior and kept hidden away.

All those negative feelings Harry had about himself, ingrained by his aunt and uncle, came rushing back to him as he sat in the back seat of their car. Everything that Severus and Remus had worked so hard and patiently with Harry during the past year to undo it all, it all began to crumble down with each poisonous word Uncle Vernon shouted at Harry, with each minute Aunt Petunia allowed to pass by with utter silence.

And he couldn't help but think he should've known better than to expect a possibility of having Aunt Petunia on his side this time. Harry should've known better to even consider giving her another chance after letting him down countless times, to even consider the idea of trusting her just even a little after he'd been burned so badly by Severus.

How could he ever trust anyone ever again?

Because when Harry made the decision to go back to Privet Drive until he turned seventeen, Harry remembered the way Aunt Petunia had shown signs of trying to show a bit of sympathy towards him even if it was a bit twisted with her selfishness. She at least made sure Harry left Privet Drive with someone who could help him. Last summer, she saw how lost Harry had been, how close he was to killing himself, and found the cuts on his arm. She saw his grief over Sirius, and heard his cry for help. For a rare moment, she had seen him, and Harry had hoped that this summer she might see him again. Hoped that she might receive him back with a kinder heart towards him, would even perhaps want to know what had happened to land Harry back into her custody again, but Harry was wrong to hope for all of that. It was clear that he was none of her business.

Once they had gotten to the house, Harry remembered how he stood before it, looking up at it, taking in the ominous structure that held the horrors of his childhood. The memories, the pain, the heavy darkness that had once suffocated him, everything that he had worked so hard to repress at first then heal from, to let it all go and move on from with the help of Remus and Severus… It all returned to him, loud and fresh, screaming in his head, closing in, blinding him and choking him.

Severus promised Harry that he would never have to step foot in this house ever again, and here he was, stepping through the threshold behind the Dursleys, the door shutting behind him with a loud snap. His cupboard door in the hall was the first thing he saw, it greeted Harry, it said hello. The dark memories of it surrounded Harry… Hiding inside there, sometimes a place of safety, sometimes a prison. Nothing but loneliness, fear, darkness and hunger and nursing wounds. The fear of dying from them, and no one would know. A full bladder and reaching hands. How much he wanted a drink of water but couldn't… It all came back to Harry as he stared at the cupboard door, and he found himself suddenly rebuilding his brick wall, shutting everything out, protecting that little kid who once lived in the cupboard under the stairs.

He suddenly hated Severus so very much… You promised… You promised…

"Go to your room," Aunt Petunia had ordered after Uncle Vernon locked up Harry's trunk and wand in the cupboard. Dudley had gone upstairs as soon as he entered the house. Aunt Petunia then went into the kitchen, Uncle Vernon following behind her, leaving Harry to stand alone in the hallway, holding Hedwig's cage close to his chest and the few items and articles of clothing he was allowed to take out of his trunk.

Shaking his thoughts of the long day away, Harry turned on his side, his eyes on his bedroom door. He waited for the sound of approaching footsteps, waited for the monster to show itself in the darkness of the hall. Waited for the sound of a turning doorknob. He waited, and he wondered over and over again if Remus would hear it all too… The only adult left for him to trust, and it was the promise of Remus' presence that kept Harry from losing himself in his raw fear.

Papa is out there, he promised…he promised…

The night grew later, the warm air began to cool down. It was quiet.

And Harry felt it…

The heavy weight of depression laying over him, sinking its claws in, returning to him.

Another old friend.

It said hello to Harry too, just like how his cupboard had done.

It sat beside him as well, just like how his old childhood fear in the night time had done.

Harry's hands continued to shake. He whispered to himself to not give into the sudden want. He whispered to himself to stay strong, don't give into it. Don't imagine how great the release of his pain would be if he just…

Harry imagined Remus being outside the house, imagined him keeping watch like he said he would. Imagined his papa wearing the same clothes he wore this morning before they parted ways. Old faded jeans, blue flannel. The way Remus looked exhausted and full of worry, how those emotions had clouded his hazel eyes, seeped out through the last hug he had given Harry.

Harry remembered how he had looked back and kept his eyes on Remus through the window as the car drove away, looking back until he couldn't see Remus forlornly standing alone in the parking lot anymore and he was forced to face forward.

He thought how it might make Remus feel if he should hear Harry giving in and cutting himself up. Harry pretended that Remus would know, that he would hear it, would scent the blood through the open window with his werewolf senses. Harry didn't want to worry his papa like that, didn't want Remus to feel as if he failed Harry even more than what he must already be feeling. Thinking of that, it helped Harry to not give into his cutting.

I shouldn't have chosen this! Harry thought as he fought for control. Anything's better than being back here!

Don't cut, don't cut, don't cut… Harry repeated in his head until he began to finally feel himself drifting off to sleep.

Remus, are you out there, papa? Are you out there keeping watch? Please be out there!

Don't cut, don't cut, don't cut!

Don't leave me alone, please! I want to cut, but I can't, I can't, but it hurts, and it's all so heavy, and the monster…it's waiting for me!

Don't leave me alone, don't leave me alone, don't leave me!

Author's Note: I'm back! I hope you enjoyed this first chapter of the third story to my Already Home Series! Next update: End of May!

This story is going to follow the timeline of the Deathly Hallows but it's going to be loose cannon. And it's still going to switch points of views between Harry, Remus and Severus- Chase'sGirl19