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Author: jadzialove Story: The Art of Healing Rating: Teens Setting: Pre-HBP Status: Completed Reviews: 12 Words: 47,842
Disclaimer – I do not own nor would I presume to lay claim to anything in any way associated with the wonderful world of Harry Potter. It’s all Jo’s. (I do presume however to refer to her as Jo.) ~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~ A loud clap of thunder sounded as lightning streaked across the storm-darkened morning sky. Harry had been awake for some time but remained in bed, enjoying the storm. That was something else he’d recently discovered he had in common with Ginny: enjoying thunderstorms – the intense raw power and wildness of nature. He’d had a rough time falling asleep because of the way they’d left things the night before. Despite that, he actually had gotten some sleep and had awoken with a new determination to fix it with her, whatever it took; he was going to find a way to make things right. Now that he’d finally acknowledged his very real interest in her, he wasn’t about to let it end before it even really began. Though it would certainly help his cause if he knew what it was that he’d done wrong. ~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~ Ginny Weasley paced around her room restlessly. In a matter of a few moments her whole world had tilted slightly sideways: her mother had just informed her that Harry would be here today. That by itself was enough to pull her in three different directions. She was nervous about seeing him because of how they’d left things the night before but also because she was still uncertain about what exactly was happening between them. She just didn’t know if she was ready to see him in person yet. Harry had been plenty flirtatious enough with her to let her know that he was interested and even though they were only exchanging notes, it felt like they were just outside the door of something big. The notes had made her nervous at first because they evoked the warm, butterfly-filled stomach that she associated with a crush. She’d been determined not to have a crush on him again and had been having second thoughts about pursuing it any further, to the point of regretting that she’d said she’d wanted to consider it “furiously owling”, which had been his entirely too adorable way of digging for affirmation that something was sparking there. Then she’d got a letter from him, probably the sweetest letter ever written. She’d read it a hundred times already, it was that sweet. So instead of being sensible, she’d jumped right into the easy friendship they’d developed over the last few days, throwing caution to the wind and had thoroughly enjoyed herself. That was until he’d changed the rules on her, by telling her something that’d probably been as extremely painful to reveal, as it was to bear. That coupled with the sweetest letter ever and she was a goner. She realized that her current feelings for him had nothing to do with her old, childish infatuation for The-Boy-Who-Lived and everything to do with the sweet, sometimes sad, sometimes moody and always noble boy named Harry. She wasn’t ready to put a name to the feelings but they were definitely different. The truth of the matter – the awful truth – was that she, Ginevra Weasley, was scared. It felt like an enormous weight had been placed upon her shoulders; not the weight of a burden so much as the weight of importance. Yes, she’d been irritated that Harry had expressed the very same sentiments that she’d been fighting her mother about, but her reaction had been rooted in fear. This thing growing between them felt nothing like the messing about she’d done with Michael Corner. The enormity of it – the importance of it – scared her, and she hated being scared. So instead of dealing with that, she’d taken it out on Harry and his need to keep her safe. This actually went hand in hand with another thing that had tilted her world. When her mother had told her Harry was coming, she’d also told her that she’d changed her mind about Ginny joining in the extra lessons. They’d had a vicious row about it not two days ago. The Muggle defense had been her idea after all. Her mother actually didn’t have a problem with her learning that. It was the other lessons that Dumbledore was arranging which her mother did not want her participating in. She’d been most adamantly against the Apparation lessons. Despite some lingering bad feelings, Ginny had sought out her mother for advice yesterday, which she’d never done before and, much to her astonishment, her Mum had helped. Ginny realized it was at some point after their talk that her mother had changed her mind. That wasn’t disturbing as much as the look on her Mum’s face when she’d told her the news. It was the same look that crossed her face when Bill had gone off to Egypt, the look that she’d had when Charlie had gone to Romania. It was the look that she’d worn after Ginny had come out of the Chamber of Secrets. Ginny recognized that look as it alone had made her put on a brave face and play out her childhood. Acting the part of ‘little girl’ to perfection. She’d sworn to herself she was doing it for her mother but that look had been accompanied by something subtle in her mother’s tone, in her manner that spoke volumes to Ginny. Her mother was no longer speaking to a little girl. The realization that the act was no longer necessary forced her to admit how comfortable the role had actually been. How easy it had been to bristle against the cotton wool her mother wanted to wrap her in and how safe it’d felt. She always knew what was expected of her. This new role was unfamiliar, unknown territory. She heard a noise on the landing outside of her doorway. Looking out she spotted a familiar, bushy-brown head making its way up to the next level. “Oh no you don’t! You come back here this instant, missy.” Hermione jumped a foot in the air and turned to Ginny with her hand over her heart. “Ginny! Are you trying to give me a heart attack?” Working hard to keep a stern look on her face and suppress the giggle threatening to escape her, Ginny motioned sharply with one hand indicating Hermione should join her in her room. The older girl warily complied. Ginny quietly closed her bedroom door and then rounded on her friend. “Let’s have it then. What is going on with you and Ron?” Her strategy had been to shock the answer out of Hermione but it appeared that Hermione, though shocked as planned, seemed desperate to talk about it with someone. She caved easily and Ginny was torn between glee at the ease of her success and disappointment that the game had been cut short. Apparently Hermione and Ron had confessed their feelings for one another in the hospital wing after the Ministry incident. It seemed that something, which Hermione emphatically declined to reveal, had happened between the two at Grimmauld Place last summer and they’d been dancing around the issue all year, always getting closer then moving apart but never crossing the line. The Department of Mysteries incident had broken down whatever barrier had kept them from taking the final step. Ginny assured Hermione that she was thrilled for them and marveled at the dreamy, love-filled look on Hermione’s face. Her brother Ron had made that happen? Unbelievable. “Ginny, could you please keep this to yourself for a bit?” Hermione said nervously. “We really didn’t want anyone to know before we could tell Harry. You know how he was last year, about people keeping secrets from him. I just don’t want him to find out and then think we didn’t want to tell him for some reason.” Hermione’s genuine concern for Harry stilled the teasing words Ginny had been about to unleash on her. “Actually, Harry has a pretty good idea already. We’ve been, erm, sort of owling – every day. You know Hedwig can Apparate, so it’s easy to have long conversations. Anyway, we talked about it, so he knows something has changed between you and Ron.” For some reason Ginny felt incredibly uncertain. What if Hermione didn’t approve? Hermione looked at her shrewdly. “He’s come around then, has he?” She didn’t know why, but she played dumb. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.” Hermione merely arched a disbelieving eyebrow at her, and then said, “Come on, let’s hear it, then. You’ve gotten your earful, now it’s my turn.” Ginny started pacing again, rubbing her forehead and sighing. Hermione, sitting on the end of Ginny’s bed, patiently waited for Ginny to answer the question. “Oh alright, yes I think he has.” For some reason Hermione looked rather smug, which made Ginny nervous. She stopped pacing. “What? Why do you look like that?” she asked a bit more sharply than she intended. Hermione looked down, suddenly fascinated by an invisible loose thread on her khaki shorts. “It’s just that, a few months ago, for a few days anyway, I could have sworn that Harry … The way he would look at you Ginny, when he thought no one was looking, I would swear that he fancied you. I never said anything because it seemed back to normal after a few days. I thought maybe I’d imagined it. But now I wonder.” She looked up at the last part and Ginny knew without doubt that Hermione was being completely truthful. This information – that Harry might have harbored feelings for her months ago – should have been comforting. Instead she found it increased the nervous, burning sensation in the pit of her belly. Hermione looked concerned for Ginny who’d resumed her agitated pacing. “Ginny, what in the world is wrong?” Not sure how much she wanted to confide in Hermione, or really, how to explain what she was feeling, she responded somewhat generally. “Nothing, I just can’t get settled today is all.” Hermione got that look on her face; the one that Ginny was certain would serve her very well with her future children. She knew she had to give something up or Hermione would be relentless. “We had a disagreement… of sorts. Last night. The prat went on and on about protecting me and keeping me safe. It was disgusting really.” Hermione looked relieved. “Is that all?” Ginny stopped pacing again. “What do you mean ‘is that all’?” “Ginny, this is Harry we’re talking about. I’d be more concerned if he hadn’t said something like that.” Hermione smiled kindly. “Just be patient with him. This is all new to him. He didn’t mean any harm or anything personal by it. That’s just Harry – saving people, protecting people.” Hermione rose from her perch on Ginny’s bed and gave Ginny a comforting squeeze. “I’ll be here, if you feel like talking about it. Obviously you have more experience than I do in these matters, but I know Harry pretty well and I care about you both.” Ginny returned the hug and smiled her thanks. Once her friend had gone on to find Ron, Ginny renewed her pacing with an increased vigor. She felt like a caged lion, pacing along the bars, waiting for the perfect opportunity to pounce. She knew it had been wrong to take it all out on Harry but it was somewhat irksome to have it unwittingly pointed out in such a casual manner. The events and revelations of the last hour or so were buzzing around in her head like a swarm of bees. Not only had her oafish prat of a favorite brother somehow managed to convince a lovely, extremely intelligent young woman that he was the man for her, her mum had suddenly stopped treating her like a child, she had an emergency portkey around her neck and, if she hadn’t already blown it with him, a potential boyfriend in Harry Potter. When, exactly, had the world gone completely mad? ~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~ After taking a shower, Harry stood wearing only a towel and a look of utter confusion; he was staring at all the clothes he had to choose from. It seemed ridiculous but the vast array was almost overwhelming. The clothes he’d had in the past, all ill-fitting and relatively the same in shape and style did not require any decision-making whatsoever. He would simply pull on whatever seemed clean enough. He hadn’t looked good in any of it so it hadn’t mattered which items he chose. Now he had so many options, he was nearly paralyzed by the choice. This is not that difficult, you can do this. He wanted to wear the belt with the studs in it so he started with that. Black jeans, a light sort of greenish-gray t-shirt, new black shoes and, because they were mostly black, a pair of boxers with flying toasters on it. Perhaps it wasn’t a fashion statement but the color theme had at least ended his decision-making paralysis. Wearing clothes that fit was an unexpectedly odd experience. At school he had robes – somewhat voluminous by design – that covered him completely and his Muggle clothes had always been many sizes too big. These fit closer to the body, making him feel almost naked and kind of vulnerable – like the big clothes had acted as a shield of sorts. He reckoned he’d get used to it and he had to admit that he did look fairly decent; at least not so skinny. He noticed that his legs looked longer; the too-big clothing had apparently made him appear shorter as well. When he finally made it downstairs, he was once again reminded that it was the weekend by the presence of his uncle. He tried passing the lounge doorway as quietly as possible however his uncle lowered his paper almost immediately. He took in Harry’s appearance and narrowed his eyes. “Where did you get those clothes?” Uncle Vernon asked sharply, apparently forgetting he wasn’t speaking directly to Harry anymore. He looked around the room, as if doing a quick inventory of the knick-knacks- to be certain they weren’t stolen and sold to fund a midnight shopping spree. “They were a gift from my new guardian,” Harry answered him calmly. His uncle huffed. “New guardian? What happened to the mass murderer?” “He’s gone.” Harry felt a twinge at that but did not let it show. His uncle looked shrewdly at him. “So this new – guardian – is the one who’s been in the garden?” Harry cottoned on that his uncle found Remus less than intimidating, so he answered, “Yeah that’s him. He’s a werewolf.” The blood left his uncle’s face. “A… a what?” he sputtered. “You know, big teeth, sharp claws, howl at the moon, bite you and you’re one too? A werewolf,” Harry answered him almost gleefully and said the word slowly, as if speaking to a slow learning child. He walked away without giving his uncle a chance to respond but he heard as he pushed through the kitchen door, “Nutters! Freaks and criminals the whole lot of them.” Harry found his aunt scrubbing at the already clean countertops once again. He reckoned he’d become spoilt by the Dursley-free days he’d enjoyed in the past week. Not at all pleased with this new routine of bumping into Dursleys at every turn, Harry hesitantly gathered the makings for lunch, but Aunt Petunia continued to ignore him. Although the thunderstorm had passed, the rain had remained. He would have to meet with Moony in the house. He tried to imagine explaining this to his aunt – maybe the blanket Imperturbable Charm would keep the rain off of them. Before he could take a bite of his sandwich, a not quite full-grown Fawkes, suddenly appeared before him – right in the middle of the kitchen table. This didn’t startle Harry nearly as much as it did his aunt who shrieked then hissed in disgust, “Not again! Does it have a note?” Harry looked but couldn’t find one. He realized then that she recognized the bird and a sudden flash of insight had him wondering if that was why she was always scrubbing at nothing on the countertops: scrubbing at the memory of filthy birds in her pristine kitchen. He shook his head in answer to her question, but before he could warn her that Fawkes may be acting as a scout or herald for Dumbledore, the man himself Apparated into the room causing another shriek to escape her thin lips. He addressed Harry first. “Good morning Harry. I trust you are well?” ”Yes, Sir. Thank you.” Harry answered, a bit off kilter from the sudden arrival. Dumbledore turned his attention to Harry’s stunned aunt; terror and fury were warring on her face. “Hello, Petunia. I apologize for my rather abrupt arrival. I have a need to speak with Harry and I cannot say how long it will take. Perhaps you and Vernon would like to go on a picnic this afternoon or for a nice walk? Please, I insist you do not let me keep you from doing so.” The rain notwithstanding, the idea of Uncle Vernon eating cold chicken out of a picnic hamper whilst sitting on the ground was just as implausible as Albus Dumbledore standing in the kitchen at Privet Drive; Harry reckoned it was not entirely out of the question. Uncle Vernon, who had appeared in the doorway when his wife had shrieked, looked about to burst, his face once again purple with rage. Aunt Petunia pushed her husband out of the kitchen before he could say anything. Harry heard the front door open and close so he assumed they had indeed gone. When Moony had spoken to him about Dumbledore yesterday, he wasn’t certain how he felt about it. He’d been nervous about seeing the headmaster again and Harry was prepared to be quite cool towards him. Now, with him right here, incongruously standing in this modern kitchen, he realized that at some point he’d already forgiven him. He was at a loss how to proceed so he relied upon his manners; he invited Dumbledore to sit at the table with him and asked him if he’d like one of his sandwiches. Dumbledore declined the offer, asking Harry to please continue his own lunch, though he did take a seat. Harry suddenly felt compelled to apologize for the treatment of the man’s personal belongings. “Sir, I’d like to apologize for the mess that I made of your office and for the way I acted.” “Do not trouble yourself about it, Harry. Nothing was broken that could not be easily repaired.” Dumbledore smiled benevolently at him and continued, “I understand grief, and I understand even more the pain one experiences upon realizing the person he relies upon most for answers and direction is fallible. As dreary as I believe perfection would be, I would give this to you if it were in my power to do so. Alas, I am and shall remain only human. The best that we humans can do is to learn from our mistakes; otherwise we are bound to repeat them.” Harry pushed his plate away, his sandwiches untouched. Fawkes had settled on the back of the chair next to him and was making a soft cooing sound that never failed to sooth him. Without looking up at Dumbledore he said, “I thought you hated me for not stopping Voldemort from coming back and because I couldn’t stop Wormtail from killing Cedric.” “Harry, it was never my intent to punish you; most especially for something that you could not possibly stop from happening. A misjudgment on my part left me failing to consider how you would interpret my aloof behavior. In my efforts to protect you from Voldemort’s invasion, I succeeded in hurting you.” A hint of something in Dumbledore’s voice made Harry look up at the man and he found the headmaster wearing a pained expression on his face. “I am truly sorry for this; it is my greatest wish that you would forgive me for these failings. If it is any small consolation at all to you, I very much missed our usual interactions over this past year.” Harry considered what Dumbledore had just revealed. He had missed Harry as much as Harry had missed him. In that moment, any lingering doubts about Dumbledore evaporated. “It’s okay. It wasn’t – but it is now. Talking with Remus these last few days, I realized that it all boils down to Voldemort. Every last bad thing in my life always comes back in some way to him. How can I fight him like you did?” Fear, cold and steely, was creeping into Harry’s bones at the thought. “I don’t know how to do any of that stuff you and Voldemort were throwing at each other. Couldn’t you have just finished him off? I mean, I know the prophecy says it’s me, but couldn’t you have done it there at the Ministry?” Dumbledore shook his head. “If I could take this burden from your shoulders, I would gladly do so, without hesitation. Remus tells me that your scar has not given you any pain or been active in any way since the incident at the Ministry. Is this correct?” Harry nodded, not certain what that had to do with anything. “I have a theory,” Dumbledore said, his face serious, “one that we cannot test, of course; however, I believe it to be sound. It is my belief that Voldemort has blocked the connection because he is in a weakened state. The blood he took from you the night of the third task, filled with your mother’s love, and his failed attempt to possess you at the Ministry are weakening him. You stated that you felt immense pain during his brief possession of you and if my theory is correct, this pain was not your own but rather Voldemort’s pain. If I’m not mistaken Harry, your connection with him is such that, had I indeed ‘finished him off’, it may very well have harmed or even killed you as well.” … either must die at the hand of the other for neither can live while the other survives… The words of the prophecy were ringing in Harry’s head. “So it’s really him or me. I have to be a murderer or be murdered.” The idea was beyond frightening – he fought the urge to crawl back into his abandoned cupboard, curl up into a tight ball and hide. If he failed not only would he die, Voldemort would live on possibly forever, unchecked. Something about what Dumbledore said caused a stirring in the back of his mind. In a flash it was right there – the Queen Mother of all frightening thoughts. His head snapped up and he looked at Dumbledore, “Professor, if killing Voldemort would kill me then wouldn’t—” “—Harry, do not give credence to that thought by saying it aloud,” Dumbledore said, cutting him off. “We will not even entertain it as an option.” Harry felt somewhat relieved but at the same time, as much as he didn’t want to die, if he could stop Voldemort that easily maybe it would be worth it. Dumbledore seemed to read his mind. “Harry, please do not linger on the thought. It is pure speculation, an untested theory. It will not be considered, even as a last desperate measure in the very worst possible scenario – we are not guaranteed that the result would be his end. Please put it out of your mind.” This was delivered with such vehemence that Harry was momentarily struck silent. He still needed answers, though, so he pressed on. “What do I do then, extra lessons? Can you teach me to fight him like you did?” His heart started pounding at an alarming rate. Dumbledore’s demeanor instantly changed and he reached across the table to pat Harry’s arm in a comforting manner. “The answer does not lie in a book; it is not a spell or a potion. You already have within you everything you need to defeat him.” “My heart, right.” Harry was starting to panic. “What does that mean, exactly? I have to love him to death? Because I’d be really hard pressed to do that. I don’t even know what love is, what it feels like. Even so, I’m fairly certain I wouldn’t be able to dig deep and find a little for him in here.” He patted his chest for effect. Fawkes left his perch on the chair to stand on the table in front of Harry. He unconsciously reached out and stroked the bird’s head, instantly feeling the calming effects. Dumbledore looked over his half-moon spectacles at Harry. “The heart I spoke of is not the physical pump in the middle of your chest. It is the very center of your soul, that which makes you who you are. You have within you, Harry, such a great capacity to love and to be loved. It is this thing within you that allowed for you to emerge from a dreadful childhood as a compassionate and caring young man rather than a hardened, bitter personality bent on criminal behavior as such an upbringing would normally produce.” His look was thoughtful before he continued, “You were enchanting even as a baby, Harry. Grown men made fools of themselves to entertain and delight you and women fought each other to hold you. Even I was not immune to your power. I would have known the prophecy was for you even if Voldemort had not marked you as he did. Mr. Longbottom was a very nice child as well but there is something about you, Harry that is compelling. I wanted very much to remain detached and treat you as a weapon – and I could not. It was my first failing of you. I am so very sorry Harry, that you had no such enchantment, as I had hoped, over your relatives.” Harry wasn’t sure what to do with this information. It certainly did not describe how he felt and it didn’t correspond with any of his own memories. “The remaining members of the Order believed at the time, as did I, that Voldemort would return and most volunteered to watch over you in some way. Arabella Figg was quite beside herself. She’d volunteered to move to Little Whinging – her husband had passed on and it gave her a renewed sense of purpose and allowed her to stay involved with the Order. Watching the treatment you were receiving had her in a quandary. She wanted very much to tell you about the wizarding world and to make your visits with her pleasant- but she knew that your relatives would not take kindly to it and that you would pay dearly as a result. We couldn’t take the chance that the Dursleys would put you out, you see, it would have left you exposed and certainly unprepared, having no knowledge of magic.” Harry had forgotten about his neighbor Mrs. Figg with all that had transpired over the past year. He thought of all the wizards he’d run into when he was little and did not know what they were at the time. At least one of them – Diggle was it? – had been in that horrible photo of the original Order Mad-Eye had shoved under his nose last summer. He hadn’t been randomly bumping into strange people; they’d been watching over him all along. “So they were protecting me because I was cursed with this prophecy?” Harry was really starting to dislike the word ‘prophecy’. Remembering his childhood, he didn’t feel particularly protected or watched over, either. “They were watching over you because they believed you were still in danger and they did so freely and most willingly because they’d cared about your parents,” Dumbledore said softly. “Apart from myself, there remained alive at the time, only one other person to whom the entire prophecy was known. That gentleman, an Unspeakable, has since passed from this Earth. You mustn’t think of the prophecy as a curse. It demands nothing of you and burdens you only with information. What you do with that information is entirely up to you. Interpreting prophecies is precarious business, Harry. They are ambiguously worded and yet tantalizing in their portent. Unfortunately, they are almost always fully deciphered only after the fact. One will always endeavor to do so, however. In your case, the word ‘survives’ may be key as it calls to mind a confrontation, a battle or a specific event from which one of you presumably, will survive. “At least part of the prophecy, in its own creation, fulfilled itself; one of the perils of interpretation. If Tom hadn’t been made aware of the prophecy he would not have marked you as he did and he would not have transferred a part of his own powers to you; nor would he have brought about the events that led to his thirteen years as a mere shadow. His knowledge of the prophecy, however incomplete, made him take action; the action that ultimately fulfilled a portion of the prophecy that drove him to take the action to start with.” Harry listened intently; hoping that even the smallest crumb of information could hold the answer. Dumbledore seemed to sense that Harry’s head was spinning. “Let us not fret over it today. You will know when the time comes to face him, and it appears that that day is not today, nor within the very near future. In the meantime, it is our duty to make you as safe as possible. I fear that you will remain his target, Harry. His power over his followers is based on fear and intimidation and your ability to thwart his plans and escape him on four different occasions will cast some doubt about his strength into the minds of some of his more cognizant followers. He knows this and he has a point to make in order to maintain his control over them.” Harry only nodded in response, still trying to process what Dumbledore had said while ignoring the cold grip of fear within the depths of his belly. The Headmaster took the nod as a signal to continue. “There will be extra lessons as you suggested. Remus is going to teach you to Apparate but in the interim I’d like you to wear this.” He handed Harry a small medallion on a leather cord. The medallion itself had what appeared to be a Grim stamped on it, but Harry instantly recognized Padfoot. His breath hitched slightly at the sight as Dumbledore explained, “It is a Portkey to be used only in a dire emergency and it is activated by breaking apart the fastening. The most expedient way, of course, would be to pull downward on it while it is around your neck and it will deposit you in my office at Hogwarts. It is my hope you will never have to use it. Remus chose the medallion’s design and I daresay that anyone not in the know will think you have a Grim around your neck. It surely will add to the mystique of Harry Potter.” Dumbledore smiled, the familiar twinkle back in his eyes. Harry slipped the cord over his head. He’d never worn a necklace before but knowing what it was, he found the weight of it comforting. “Miss Granger, Mr. Weasley and Miss Weasley have each been given one as well. They will also be taking the extra lessons this summer.” This reminded Harry of his thoughts of yesterday. He didn’t want to push his friends away, but look what they had to do just because they were close to him. And if he were a target, anyone near him would be in danger. Trying hard not to hyperventilate at the thoughts, he closed his eyes. “Harry I know it is your instinct to push them away to keep them safe, out of harm’s way. It simply cannot be done. They are in danger whether or not they are in the same room with you. You can cut yourself off from them but you cannot cut them out of your heart, neither can you cut yourself from theirs. They are a part of you and will in all likelihood, be at your side whether or not you approve it. You need their love and support and they need yours.” Harry smiled to himself – it was clear Dumbledore had had him all figured out and had come prepared. He looked up to find his headmaster’s knowing gaze fixed with his own. Harry swallowed the lump in his throat and nodded. Dumbledore paused and looked at Harry appraisingly before he continued. “You must take advantage of Voldemort’s current weakened condition and concentrate on Occlumency lessons. Miss Tonks and Mr. William Weasley will be teaching you several different Muggle defense techniques. They are each well versed in various disciplines. And you will also have additional Defense Against the Dark Arts lessons with both Alastor Moody and Miss Tonks.” Harry interrupted him. “I won’t take more lessons with Snape.” “Professor Snape, Harry.” Dumbledore corrected him. “Professor, I understand that you trust him. I don’t think you understand that I can’t. His Occlumency lessons consisted of nothing more than him invading my mind, without giving me any instruction for blocking. Then he got angry with me when I accidentally got into his mind, as if I would crawl into his head if I had a choice, even knew how I did it. He’s never treated me with anything other than hatred since my very first day for no fault of my own!” Trembling, Harry stared hard into Dumbledore’s eyes. “Snape reached a new level of hostility last year. He doesn’t deserve my respect.” Dumbledore looked ruefully at him. “I am aware, Harry, that your relationship with Professor Snape is an acrimonious one at the best of times. I will only ask you to address him by his title in his presence. As for your Occlumency lessons, I will be taking over that task. Another failing on my part, I’m afraid – although I do still feel that it would have been quite harmful to do so at the time. I had hoped that Professor Snape could overcome his enmity for your father. It does seem somewhat excessive to hold a grudge against someone who has been gone nearly fifteen years. Rest assured that Professor Snape has been spoken to.” He paused for a moment before continuing. “I am curious Harry, you said that you managed to accidentally access Professor Snape’s mind?” Harry’s mind flashed on the glimpse into Snape’s wretched childhood. I will not feel sorry for that greasy git! He nodded, “Er, why? I mean, is something wrong?” “No, not at all Harry, I believe that you may have some natural Legilimency skills. It is something we shall explore during our lessons, which will start tomorrow – at the Burrow.” Harry snapped his head up so quickly he got a crick in his neck. “The Burrow? I’m going to The Burrow tomorrow?” Dumbledore chuckled for the first time since his arrival. “Today actually, if you’d like.” “Are you joking? Can we leave now?” Harry couldn’t believe it, only a week with the Dursleys? He was going to The Burrow! The Burrow, where Ginny was… …where Ginny – who was not speaking to him – was…He tried to tamp down the nerves that were attacking his belly and instead concentrate on Dumbledore who was speaking again. “Remus will be here shortly to collect you and your belongings and deliver you to the Weasleys’ safely. Molly and Remus have been relentless in their insistence that you leave this house. You’ve fulfilled the requirement for the protection by returning to your relatives’ home. Despite my belief that you are safest with your aunt, you will be happier elsewhere, I imagine. There are extra security measures in place at The Burrow but it is entirely too dangerous, for all concerned, to stay there for an extended period. You, along with the Weasleys, will be going to headquarters in two weeks’ time.” Even with that information Harry was ecstatic; it would take him all of four minutes to pack. Something occurred to him though – Apparation lessons and DADA lessons? “Professor? How can we have extra lessons without doing underage magic?” Dumbledore smiled again. “Voldemort is not the only one recruiting, Harry. We have people in the appropriate departments of the Ministry to make this possible. You will be asked, however, to make an effort to restrict your use of magic to the supervised lessons and, of course, emergencies. We do have cooperation but we do not want to press the issue with Madam Hopkirk. Once classes resume, I would like to lighten your timetable somewhat so that you and I may have time for more advanced Defense lessons and we shall work on your dueling skills. I would like for you to consider making the D.A. an official school club as well. I daresay a fair few of the students have some catching up to do. This will help you sharpen your own skills while assisting the other students in acquiring the tools that sadly, may be crucial to their survival in the near future.” Learning to duel from Dumbledore seemed like a fine idea to Harry. The revelation struck him suddenly; Dumbledore had done it. He’d fought and defeated a Dark wizard. Dumbledore was his mentor in the truest sense of the word and if Harry was somehow successful in his own task, then he and Dumbledore would be members of a very exclusive club. “Professor, may I ask you a question?” “You may ask many questions, Harry.” “What was it like to…” How could he ask this question tactfully? “When you defeated Grindelwald did you feel bad about, erm, killing him?” Very well put Potter, very tactful. Dumbledore did not seem offended. He took a moment to consider before answering, “Taking the life of another is one of society’s most heinous crimes, yet on very rare occasions, it is necessary for the greater good. I will not lie to you Harry – however necessary it is it does not rest easily on the conscience of a good man. You are in a unique position due to the prophecy, nevertheless; knowing that you will be put in that situation does not make you a murderer anymore than blindly acting in your own defense. Perhaps thinking of it that way will help ease your mind about it.” He paused thoughtfully. “To answer your question more specifically, I regret that it came to that end, but the memory of it does not hinder my slumber.” He reached out and once again patted Harry’s arm in a comforting manner. Harry thanked him for his candor and Dumbledore bid him good-bye shortly afterward. ~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~ After Dumbledore left Harry raced to his room to pack what very little was not already in his trunk. He’d estimated four minutes; it took him less than three. He sat on the bed and looked around the room one last time to be certain he hadn’t missed anything. Satisfied, he exhaled heavily and lay back onto the pillow. He felt out of breath and realized he needed to get himself under control. He was nervous about seeing Ginny, concerned and confused about what Dumbledore had told him and he was just plain scared. He was also worried about something, a nagging concern that he’d been pushing to the back of his mind. Going to the Burrow was great – he’d like nothing more except, what if Moony thought he was done with him? In a few short days he’d come to rely upon Remus Lupin more than any other person he’d ever known, but years of disappointment and loss had conditioned him to expect Remus to go away. Dumbledore had said the werewolf would be teaching him Apparation so he’d be around for that but what if he decided to hit the road again once Harry was settled in with the Weasleys? Harry felt a pinching in his chest at the thought. He heard what sounded like footsteps downstairs. In an instant he was up and his wand at the ready. “Harry?” Remus Lupin’s voice said from below. “I’m up here,” Harry answered, his heart still hammering. Harry was immediately suspicious when he came into the room. The man before him was wearing Muggle clothes, his hair was neat as a pin and he was clean-shaven. It looked like the new and improved Remus from yesterday but this man was entirely too happy to be Remus Lupin. Harry did not lower his wand. “Tell me something only I would know.” Remus looked surprised. Still smiling brightly, he said, “Yesterday, when Tonks came to see you, she woke you up and you thought she was Bellatrix LeStrange.” “She told you about that?” Harry lowered the wand in surprise. “Why do you look so happy?” “It’s just a really fine day, isn’t it?” Remus said, the bright smile not wavering a bit. Harry narrowed his eyes at Moony before he looked out the window at the pouring rain. What in the world? Then it hit him. “Oh. My. God! You! You and Tonks…” He struggled with the appropriate terminology but immediately ruled out hand gestures. Thankfully, Remus took pity on him and didn’t make him continue. “Don’t look so scandalized Harry. We’re both consenting adults.” Harry couldn’t help but smile back at the man. “I don’t reckon I have to ask how it was.” He snorted then, as he was fighting back what felt horrifyingly like a fit of the giggles. “Which time?” Remus responded, his serious tone contradicting the glint of mischief in his eyes. Harry lost it completely. He fell over, clutching his sides and laughed until he felt tears streaming down his face. Remus stood by patiently, a self-satisfied smirk on his face. Once he’d sufficiently recovered, Harry looked his guardian over. The man was practically glowing, he was so happy. Harry was thrilled for him. That single, fit-inducing question had given Harry such a complete sense of kinship with the man; he suddenly found it very important to confirm that Remus was not going to leave him. He tried to keep it light and funny, “Moony, you’re not going to do a runner on me are you?” Moony’s face transformed from one of near bliss to one of concern and remorse. That alone made Harry wish he hadn’t said anything at all. “Harry, you’ll never know how sorry I am that you felt that you had to ask that question. It is completely justified of course – I really have let you down in the past. I know I can’t make it up to you but please know that unless it is completely out of my control, I’m afraid you’re quite stuck with me.” Harry let out a breath he wasn’t aware that he’d been holding and sat down on the bed. Moony was staying. Remus pulled the chair out from the desk and gave Harry a comforting pat on the shoulder before he sat down facing him. He looked at him thoughtfully for a moment. “Harry, there is only one thing more useless than guilt, and that is regret. I happen to be the world’s authority on both, so please heed my words. I have wasted so much time feeling guilty and trying to run away from it – which is impossible to do. It took being harangued by a very bitter woman to wake me up to how extremely selfish I’ve been.” Harry looked at him, confused. He couldn’t imagine what his kind, former teacher could possibly have done to warrant that guilt. His curiosity got the better of him, so he asked what was probably a rather personal question.. “What have you got to feel guilty about, Moony?” “A great many things, actually,” Remus continued. “For one, I let myself believe that you didn’t need me, that you were taken care of and even that I had nothing to offer you anyway. I let myself believe this because it was more important to me to wallow in guilt and regret. And wallow I did. I swam in it. Guilt and regret are not terrible things if you learn a lesson from them and move on. Wallowing in them serves no other purpose than to feed your own self-loathing. Not even a full week ago, I was ready to start it all over again. It took your aunt’s tirade for me to acknowledge that I was needed, that I did have something to offer you. Can you forgive me for not being around before?” Harry looked at him thoughtfully. A little over a week ago he’d barely known the man before him beyond favored former teacher and Marauder, and now he was one of the most important people in Harry’s life. His talk of guilt and regret had touched on something that had been plaguing Harry for a long time; the thing that he’d only begun to tell Ginny last night. He felt compelled to unburden himself of it. Instead of answering Remus’ question he said, “Remus, can I tell you something? Something terrible?” “Of course, Harry. You can tell me anything.” And Harry knew it was true. “When I was little I used to wish for someone to come and take me away from the Dursleys. I made up stories in my head about this mysterious someone all the time. What it would be like when they finally came for me and about the adventures that were keeping them from me for so long. Then Hagrid came to fetch me and told me all about Hogwarts and the wizard world and the truth about my parents. I was told they died in a car crash – did you know?” Remus only shook his head, remaining silent so Harry would continue. “Once I got to school it didn’t seem so important anymore, to have this mysterious stranger come to take care of me. I had a home where I could go to escape the Dursleys, for most of the year at least. Then Sirius came along. Suddenly I had someone who was only for me, someone that I could talk to, someone I could trust – someone who actually cared about me. Yeah, for a second I thought I could finally get away from the Dursleys, but even though I had to come back here, I knew that I had someone. It was the thing that I wanted most except, it wasn’t exactly what I had thought it would be.” Harry was determined not to cry. He was rhythmically pinching the skin between his forefinger and thumb on one hand in an effort to distract himself from it. “This is the terrible bit. I finally had Sirius but I worried about him constantly. I wished… I wished that I … that he… ” Harry couldn’t finish the statement. It felt ungrateful and disloyal to Sirius. It had been terrible to see it in black and white when he’d written the words to Ginny. How could he say them out loud to a man who’d been Sirius’ good friend? He looked at Moony, willing him to understand. Remus seemed to, but pressed on. “Harry, finish your thought,” he said quietly, “I think you’ll feel better for it. Trust me.” Harry did trust him, so he forced himself to say the words. “Even though he never let me down and he always did whatever he could to get to me if I needed him a part of me wished that I didn’t have to worry about him all the time. That I could just relax and have him take care of me. What if I wished so hard that it sent him away?” Harry knew as he said it that it was completely irrational but it was something that had been weighing heavily on him for days. “Moony these last few days with you are exactly what I wished for but Sirius had to die for me to get it. How—” He really couldn’t finish his thought. The control he’d exerted over the threatening tears was slipping. He exhaled loudly, yanked his glasses off and covered his face with both hands. Pressing hard on both eyes with the heels of his hands he willed the tears to retreat. He was not going to cry! He absolutely refused. He took deep calming breaths and exhaled slowly. He was regaining control and felt triumphant when he managed to do so without shedding a single tear. Moony had been right, he did feel better for having said it out loud, although he still hadn’t looked up to see how Moony had taken it. Remus’ voice broke the silence. “Harry, look at me.” Harry obeyed the soft command, putting his glasses back to meet the older man’s eyes. He had a somewhat pained expression on his face but he didn’t look angry or disgusted which was a relief. “Harry, it is perfectly natural to want someone you can count on to be responsible for you; to guide you, to care about you, especially after the experience you’ve had growing up with the Dursleys. You are not a terrible person for feeling that way and you certainly did not wish Sirius away. Okay?” Harry only nodded; he did believe Remus but he still felt a bit guilty for feeling like that. Remus continued. “Sirius was always sort of reckless. It was an intrinsic part of his personality. Mostly it resulted in harmless fun but there have been a few occasions when it was thoroughly disastrous.” Harry suddenly realized which disaster Moony was referring to and felt compelled to finally ask one of the burning questions he’d been so intent upon asking a few days ago. “Moony, what happened all those years ago, to the Marauders I mean? How did it happen?” Remus looked both thoughtful and terribly sad. “I wish I could just point to one thing and say ‘That’s it; that right there is what caused it all!’ but it’s not that easy, is it? I am tempted to lay it all at Peter’s feet and still there is a large part of me that wants to take the blame. I spent many years feeling guilty that Peter had died and thinking it was my fault for talking your Dad and Sirius into taking him on; then a couple more years feeling guilty about Sirius’ imprisonment and your parents’ deaths for the same reason. If I hadn’t talked them into including him then he never would have learned to be an Animagus on his own, he never would have been in a position to betray your parents.” He looked thoughtful again and Harry remained still, hoping he’d continue. “Harry, I think the answer to your question is that a lot of small things added up to the horrible conclusion. Your Dad and Sirius were like two halves of the same coin. Very much like the Weasley twins in fact. It was impossible to believe that they’d only just met on the train to school. I think that was part of Sirius’ confusion when it came to you. He expected you to be just like James because you look so very much like him. It was hard for him to distinguish until you did or said something that was much more reminiscent of your mum. You have her compassion Harry, and her strong sense of justice, among other things. You may look like James, but you are very much Lily’s child.” Remus smiled sadly before continuing. “When I was placed in Gryffindor with them, I felt honored that they chose to befriend me. Once I felt comfortable in my friendship with them, I talked them into taking on Peter as well. I knew what it was like to be shunned and I felt bad for him. He had no one. In all honesty, he was never really more than a pet to Sirius, a sometimes-entertaining nuisance who followed us around a lot.” He scrubbed a hand over his face and exhaled before going on, a gesture Harry was coming to realize meant Moony was not happy with the subject. “To be fair, Peter seemed to bask in even that inglorious attention so I didn’t really worry about it. He was never very good at any sort of magic but when he finally achieved the Animagus form, that’s when we had our glory days. The whole world was open to us. I think about that time now and I’m appalled by what could have gone wrong. Prongs and Padfoot were easily big enough to keep the wolf in check but the smallest thing could have gone awry and caused such tragedy. It seemed so harmless at the time and I’d never been so happy. We were really very lucky.” He paused again, a far away look on his face. “Things started to change when your mum finally gave in to your dad. It took a couple of years for him to convince her to give it a go but he’d set his sights on her and never looked anywhere else afterward. They were so clearly in love, Harry. I know you were worried about that after seeing Snape’s memory but please trust me when I tell you that I have never seen, before or since, two people who loved each other more than they did.” Harry believed him, and felt overwhelmingly relieved. He nodded and Remus continued. “Although he never confessed it to me, I think Sirius was a little put out about losing his best mate’s attention to a girl who’d never once been affected by his own charms. The thing that did the most damage though, was the incident with Snape. Sirius, being reckless, did not consider the consequences had his prank gone as planned. Your father was beyond furious with him and there was a strain between them for some time afterward. I was absolutely horrified at what could have happened. Imagine what I’d’ve felt if I had come to my senses after the waning of the moon only to find that I’d killed a fellow student, even one as repugnant as Snape. Sirius completely disregarded what that would have done to me, let alone Snape and we didn’t speak for a long time after that. “That was the end of the Marauders’ romps. The four of us eventually made amends but it was never the same. The innocence and carefree adventurous spirit had left us all. Then after we’d finished school and joined the Order, we all had our own separate tasks to perform and we kept busy with those.” Remus appeared lost in time for a moment before continuing. “It was around your first birthday that it became apparent there was a traitor among us and the leaked information had me more and more certain that it was one of us, one of the Marauders. I immediately ruled out James and Lily. Your father had lost so much at the hand of Voldemort and his followers that he worked full-time in the fight against them and your mum was in a position at the Ministry that, had she the will or desire, she could have easily brought the entire Ministry to its knees.” He scrubbed a hand over his face, the weight of the memories threatening to crush him. “Apparently Sirius and I made the same mistake and underestimated Peter. We each thought it was the other. I wish with all my heart I could say with certainty that Peter had cast a Confundus Charm on us but I think we truly just did not consider him in any way a threat. He’d played the part so well in fact that Sirius handed over your parents’ lives to him. He thought, ‘who in their right mind would trust Peter Pettigrew with something so important? No one would.’ That’s why it was nearly the perfect plan. It was brilliant and bold and Sirius through and through. The secret keeper would hide in plain sight, while the one everyone would assume to be the secret keeper went underground. I don’t know when exactly Peter was recruited by or went looking for the Death Eaters but Sirius was right about him in that he always looked for the biggest and strongest shadow to stand in. He must’ve felt the shift in our tight group after the Snape incident and needed to find someone else to latch onto. You know Harry, to this day I still can’t believe what Peter has done. It goes against so much that I know, that I remember. Peter had the most outrageous crush on your mum and he never once had harsh words or a falling out with your father. That he is the cause of their deaths is still almost unthinkable.” Something clicked in Harry’s head, a memory. “Moony, you know what I hear when there’s a Dementor around, right?” Remus looked questioningly at Harry but simply responded, “Yes, I do.” “Well, Voldemort told my mum to get out of the way, that she didn’t have to die and that she wasn’t the one he was after. Do you reckon, maybe Wormtail didn’t mean for her to die too? Voldemort doesn’t seem like the sort that would make a deal like that, but why else would he have said that?” Moony looked surprised. “I don’t know why he would have said that. Unless… no, that’s too repulsive even to consider.” Moony looked a little green around the edges so Harry pushed him a little to find out what he was thinking. “What is it? Tell me. I can handle it.” Remus looked hesitantly at Harry. He considered for a moment then replied, “It occurred to me that perhaps Voldemort promised Lily to Peter as a, uh, reward for what he’d done.” He looked truly ill at having said the words aloud. Harry himself felt a little sickened by the thought but it made sense. Voldemort had never hesitated to kill before and she was not even a pureblood. It should have been a no-brainer for him. Remus seemed to have a flash of insight; Harry could almost see the thought as it occurred to him. “What is it?” Moony looked at Harry and said, “Do you realize, that in telling your mother she didn’t have to die, he in fact provided her with the means to protect you?” Harry just felt confused and must have looked it because Remus explained further, “Think of it this way: he told her she didn’t have to die, presumably because he doesn’t understand love and that a loving mother would never just step aside to let some maniac kill her child to save herself. In giving her that option though, whether he meant it or not, he intensified the sacrifice she was about to make and gave the protection it provided for you more power, which in turn ended up nearly being the end of him.” Not for the first time today Harry’s head was spinning with theories and speculations. He and Moony sat in silence for some time, each lost in thought. Harry thought about each meeting he’d had with Voldemort and he started to see a pattern. “Moony, he makes mistakes, Voldemort does,” he said excitedly. “He makes loads of mistakes. He didn’t count on my mum giving her life for me. He didn’t count on Quirrell not being able to touch me; I passed out before it was done but the man was burning just from my touch. Even the memory of Tom Riddle made a mistake by leaving the diary where I could get to it and pierce it with the basilisk fang. He didn’t count on our wands being useless against one another and he didn’t know that he’d hurt himself if he tried to possess me. I’ve always thought of him as all powerful but he screws up an awful lot doesn’t he?” Moony contemplated what Harry had just said, “He does indeed, Harry. He seems to be a bit heedless when it comes to you. It won’t do to be overconfident or underestimate him though – or to count on him to continue this pattern. We’ll figure it out.” Remus stood and replaced the chair under the desk. “Listen, we’d best get a move on. Molly is probably beside herself with worry by now.” Harry stood as well and looked at him. There seemed to be a bit of the happy Moony back in his face. “Thanks Moony. For everything.” Remus seemed to understand he meant more than the conversation they’d just had. He pulled Harry into a hug and Harry was pleased to notice that each time that happened it seemed less and less awkward. “Anytime Harry. Anytime.” Harry nodded in understanding while inside he was feeling just a touch comforted by the realization that Voldemort screwed up with regularity when it came to him. It made Voldemort’s looming figure seem just a bit smaller. Remus grabbed hold of Harry’s trunk and Harry sent Hedwig on her way before grabbing her empty cage. Remus activated the Portkey he’d been given by Dumbledore and as Harry felt the unpleasant tugging behind his navel he couldn’t help thinking that making mistakes was a very human thing to do. His chances increased ever so slightly against a human didn’t they? It seemed almost – doable. ~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~ A/N ~ This is the first chapter to represent only half of a day. The rest of the day will be found in the next and final chapter, number 6. As always- Thank you to Casey for tirelessly and generously sharing his insights and opinions. And words of thanks are not nearly enough to cover my gratitude for Musings, who makes me see things from a different perspective and somehow manages to prod things out of me even when I don’t think there’s anything there.
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