Part: A Hero's Gift
Rating: Teens
Setting: Pre-HBP
Status: Completed
Words: 1,868
Updated: January 29, 2005, 9:38am
A Hero's Gift
Harry came back to Privet Drive later that June. He had just
relished the moment when those who declared themselves to be his true
family stood up for the messy-haired young man against his only blood
relatives. Yet what he came away with outweighed any of the good that
either the Weasleys or the Order had done for him. His heart was heavy
as were his fingers numb and his eyes lifeless. Hermione had been right
all along. He did have a 'saving people thing,' and this time it had
backfired on him.
He 'saved people' from Voldemort's legacy in his first year when searching for the Philosopher's
Stone. In his second year he went into the Chamber of Secrets
unprepared. Had it not been for the time turner during his third year,
the consequences would have been horrific. Fourth year found him at the
bottom of the lake when he was never a good swimmer to begin with. And
last year he was almost responsible for a total of eleven deaths.
Luckily for him he managed to squeak by with just one.
One
death.... That was all it took to corrupt any good thoughts he might
have. That was all it took to send him late at night to the loo to
empty his supper. Because of Sirius' death he was an accessory to
murder. Because of the injuries sustained by his friends and the Order
members, he was an accessory to assault and attempted murder. It was he
who should be locked up in Azkaban, Harry thought to himself
repeatedly. He even went so far as to write a letter to the Ministry,
hoping to turn himself in for the crimes he committed. Hedwig,
however, refused to deliver it. In fact, Hedwig refused to stay in
Harry's room any longer. But she did concede to returning every three
days to deliver the usual message to the Order which consisted of:
All is well.
Harry
The
statement was true, in a manner of speaking. The Dursleys left him
alone for the most part, pushing food through the cat flap Vernon had
installed several summers ago. The least amount of contact with the
freak the Dursleys had the better, so they said several times. So Harry
was left to fend for himself. Only the nightmares of his friends'
misfortunes kept him company. The past cursed him with an evil grip.
And if there was one thing he brought home with him from the Department
of Mysteries, it was the desire to die.
He wasn't a hero, as
so many thought of him to be. He felt he wasn't good enough to be a
friend. He had urged Albus Dumbledore to grant him his wish at the
Ministry. He had secretly hoped that Voldemort fulfil this wish as
well. Alas, his cries were not heard, not even when he remembered that
Vernon used an electric shaver. His final plea to Hedwig was to bring
him a razor as quickly as possible. Hedwig hooted angrily and left to
stay with the Weasleys for the rest of the summer. Harry closed his
window, followed by the curtain and likewise his life from all those
who cared for the boy named Harry Potter, and not the Boy Who Lived.
Little did Harry know that his actions were being mimicked in London.
He
sat in number twelve, Grimmauld Place, resigned to a daily bottle of
Ogden's Old Firewhiskey. Tonight would be the full moon, but Remus
Lupin no longer cared. He refused Tonks' delivery of the Wolfsbane
Potion that would ease his transformation. Remus' heart ached for his
family. For James, Lily and now Sirius, for those whom he would see one
day again, that day could not arrive soon enough. For the bastard that
was Peter Pettigrew, Remus wished he could meet him during his
transformation. For Harry, whom he had loved like a son from the first
day he'd held him in his arms -- a beautiful infant with intense green
eyes, the first sign of hope during the first war -- was in
Remus' heart mortally wounded. He knew Harry could never live his life
as any normal young man deserved to.
As a werewolf he felt
useless. He could do nothing for no one in his condition, let alone
Harry. But Sirius would keep him from quitting. This time there was no
Sirius, therefore tonight would be one of those nights he dreamed of.
Off he went to the basement of the Black family home and locked himself
into the shackles of his iron cage. The rest of the evening an angry
wolf thrashed about, doing as much harm to himself as possible. Outside
the door, a pink-haired witch shed silent tears as she wrote
passionately.
***
Several owls had
made repeated deliveries. Pig came with letters from Ron, Ginny,
Hermione and Mrs. Weasley. A new owl, snowy white like Hedwig,
would deliver messages from Fred and George. A Ministry owl would come
by every other day with a message of hope from Mr. Weasley. Harry
received other notes from Neville, Luna, Moody, McGonagall and even
Dumbledore, whose message respectfully asked for forgiveness and
understanding. But one summer day Hedwig finally returned with a letter
in tow. The note was scribbled on pink parchment.
Harry had
been sitting on the edge of his bed with his head lowered into his
hands. He didn't hear Hedwig's arrival through the thin slit of his
window or curtains. She pecked at him until he looked up. Harry was
much thinner now than when Hedwig had last seen him. His skin had
turned to a pasty shade of blue. His eyes were circled by deep, black
rims. His lips were pallid and his shirt had been encrusted in Merlin
knew what. Hedwig's eyes grew while she would shed a tear for him. She
wished she could do more for Harry, but right now she needed him to
read the letter.
"Not now, girl."
His voice was no
louder than a whisper. She stuck her leg out and nipped at him. Finally
he took the letter but tossed it to one side. Hedwig hooted and hopped
over to unfold the parchment. She nipped Harry hard. He winced and
looked over.
It was then that he could make out the
scribbled words "help Remus." His attention had been piqued. He stood
slowly and pulled the curtains back further. The sunlight blinded him.
He stumbled a bit before rubbing his eyes and finding the note on his
bed again.
Wotcher Harry!
I
know everyone must have written you by now, asking how you are and if
you want to talk about what happened at the Ministry. I won't do that.
I know what happened, Harry, and to think you are doing all right would
be mad. No, Harry, I won't do that, because there is something far more
important to worry about than your feelings at the moment. I know that
sounds rude, but I am desperate!
Harry Potter, I need your help!
Harry,
please help me help Remus. Remus lost more than a friend with Sirius'
death. He lost a brother, a guide and a mentor. Sirius was also his
caregiver. He was the first to be concerned about the full moon, and to
make certain that Remus took his potion. Well, the full moon rose the
other night and Remus refused to drink it. He spent the evening clawing
and biting himself. When I found him in the morning I had to call upon
Madam Pomfrey to give him several Blood Replenishment potions. We
almost lost him, Harry. We almost lost Remus.
I
don't know what he needs to live again. His daily drunken stupour makes
him more dangerous to himself than the werewolf. I'm at a loss for
ideas, Harry, so I'm asking you to help me get into his head and make
him realise that life moves forward.
I have nowhere to turn. Please help me, Harry.
Love,
Tonks
Tonks'
signature became a large ink blot where the tears that leaked from
Harry's eyes fell. On the one hand, how dare she ask him... Harry
Potter... a murderer... for help! On the other hand, how could she not?
He loved Remus. He had been his father's and godfather's best friend.
He had taken Harry under his personal guidance during his third year at
Hogwarts, and helped make him into who he was today. He continuously
looked out for Harry's well-being and had saved his life at the
Ministry.
Harry clutched the letter firmly. His body quivered
with the anger that tormented his feelings. If there was one thing that
Harry had not forgot, it was that he was never selfish about his
friends. He took several deep breaths before sitting behind his desk
and taking a quill in his hand.
***
Tonks
knocked gently before opening the door. On a comfy chair sat an
unshaven, unwilling carcass of a man. His head lolled to one side. He
snored loudly. The bedroom had a musty odour of sweat socks and
alcohol. Tonks knelt next to the chair to get a closer look. Dried
tears stained his cheeks. She grasped his hand and gave it a squeeze.
"Remus, please wake up," her voice trembled.
His
eyes fluttered open. He looked around lazily before wiping the corner
of his mouth. As his eyes closed again, he heard his name spoken much
louder now.
"Remus! You have to wake now!"
This time
he jumped forward and raised his wand. Tonks fell backwards. Remus
turned and realised then who it was that startled him. He put his wand
away and sat back down in the chair.
"What is it, Tonks?" he grumbled.
Tonks
stood to face him. She thrust the piece of parchment forward. "It just
came for you. I don't know who it's from, only that it's marked as
urgent."
That was a lie. Tonks knew exactly who it came from, because Hedwig had made the delivery.
Remus
hesitated at first, but then took the note from her hand. He opened it
and scanned the scrawl. As if Christmas morning had just arrived,
Remus' eyes held life once again. His scowl was now a glowing
smile. He leapt from his chair and embraced Tonks before twirling
her in the air.
"Wotcher Remus!"
"I have to find Albus, Tonks!"
Remus dashed out of his bedroom. Tonks watched him go. She then turned back to the bedroom and picked up the parchment to read.
Remus,
An owl told me you could use a friend. If you are up to it, fancy a visit from me right now?
Harry
Tonks closed the bedroom door so that she could shed her tears of joy in private.
Downstairs,
a once spiritless voice bellowed for all to hear: "My Harry's coming
home!" Life for Remus had a chance to begin again, thanks to a hero's
gift of hope.
A/N: This tale has been betaed by the
wonderful Magnolia Mama. She is the voice of reason behind my madness.
I am both grateful and humbled by her advice. I thank her for her
tireless effort towards helping me become a credible writer.
