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Author: cryslin Story: Muggle War Rating: Teens Setting: Pre-DH Status: Completed Reviews: 4 Words: 27,236
"HARRY!" Harry opened his eyes to see Ron's concerned face looking down at him. He took a few shuddering breaths and blinked a few times before looking around. Plain walls were all he could see since Ron was leaning so close to him. He tightly shut his eyes again and felt a cool rag on his forehead, some water dripping down the sides of his face. He opened his eyes again to see two more faces looking at him. Okay, I'm not dead then. "Guys…?" he softly said. "Bloody hell, Harry! Don't do that!" Ron growled. "Screaming like a banshee... I thought you were dying!" Harry pushed himself up on his elbows and looked at the others. Fred, George and Ron stared back at him gravely; Ron's blue eyes were especially dark with concern. "Thanks for waking me," he said. When there was no response, he said, "I'm fine." Ron just gave him a look. Finally, Ron got off the bed, taking the rag with him. As he left, Harry noticed there were flecks of blood on it as Ron took it to the bathroom. He gingerly placed his hand on his scar and felt a twinge of pain. Sighing, he flopped back onto his pillow and stared at the ceiling. He could hear the Weasley brothers arguing near the bathroom until it got quiet. Then he heard the beds creaking as Fred and George climbed back in and soon, steady breathing. Taking the opportune silence, he got up to see Ron waiting for him by the door. He knows me far too well… Harry went to the bathroom and splashed some water on his face before changing clothes. When he came out, Ron too was dressed for the day and sitting in front of the door. Harry gave him a lopsided smile before Summoning the journal and leaving the room with Ron beside him. It was far too early for anything to be open, so they walked to Central Park and sat on one of the benches. The silence was too deafening for Harry's liking. He hated silences like this. It always made him feel like something horrible was about to happen. Ron broke the silence first. "Harry?" "Hmmm?" Harry noted, looking down at his feet. "What happened?" "Something awful. I feel like rubbish right now." "The journal?" Ron said with concern. "Yeah. It was just…" Harry shuddered at the memory of the dream. He looked at the journal and noticed the dark spots on the pages. He never really thought much about those spots until now. Blood. Harrison's blood is on these pages. "Harry?" he heard whispered. "I was just… it's just that… I don't know," Harry told him. He thrust the journal into Ron's hands. "Have you ever noticed these stains on it?" Ron shook his head. "I didn't either until this morning. God, that was awful. That was the worst one yet." "What was the worst?" "Nightmares." "Another one? It better be the last of them." "It is. I can guarantee it," Harry muttered darkly. "He died." Ron stared at him with a fish-like expression on his face; Harry broke their eye contact first, finding a spot over Ron's left shoulder easier to look at. Finally, Ron shook his head and grabbed his friend by the shoulders, forcing Harry to look back at him. "It's all right, Harry," Ron said sincerely. "I don't know how I can help you with this, but I want to try. I don't think you should bear this burden alone." "Thanks," Harry said. A small tear began trekking a path down his face. He roughly rubbed his face to remove it and saw Ron frowning at him. "What?" "I don't think you should be ashamed about this. What would you do if I were in your position?" "God knows that will never happen," Harry said honestly, seeing Ron's concerned face. "But, in a theoretical sense, I would tell you to stop being a prat about it." "Very good. Now what happened?" Harry took back the journal and told the long tale of the nightmare. Ron listened raptly and soon had Harry leaning against him as he got to the final part of the dream. He could feel Harry shaking, holding back his emotions, as he talked. When he finished the dream, Ron let him just lean against him while Ron himself was thinking. Planning would be a better word to describe what Ron was doing. While Harry was composing himself, Ron picked up the diary, thankful that Harry had managed to break the spells sealing it from prying eyes. With a hopeful feeling, he flipped through the pages until he came to the last entry. * 15 May 1945 I wake up and I am so thankful to be alive. (Ron smiled sadly as he read.) I am concerned though for the silence in the air. Nothing is moving, not even the wind. As I look around, I see people who are probably thankful for not being rushed out the door for work after a restless night. I see Thomas moving around. Actually…it's more of a thrashing, like he's escaping from a nightmare. I'm concerned and awed by Thomas. He just told me that he had a premonition and it is very troublesome. He would not go into detail about it, but it is encouraging to see that he may have magic yet. He's got better at being a friend; more trusting to some of the mates in the barracks. He's grown up a lot these last few months, too. He no longer gets in any fights, which is a definite plus. I hope that when we finally leave this place for good, he can start a better life. I'll even let him live with my family so he can start over. No child should be disowned by his parents. The day actually looks nice from in here. I've always mis--- The entry stopped here. Ron looked down at Harry—whose head rested on Ron's shoulder—as his friend sighed peacefully. Thank goodness he's asleep. He was about to close the book when the wind blew a page open, revealing an entry in another hand. Curious, he looked at this new entry. 17 July 1945 I guess that a new start is what Harry, well, Harrison always wanted for me. I was released from the hospital today. It's a good feeling to be free. I'm going to be leaving for America soon and getting away from those who want to harm me. Who knows, I may change my name. I do know this much, I am getting helped. I've talked with the Potters; they're really a nice family. (Ron held a chuckle since Harry was still sleeping.) They gave me some money so I can get an education at a school in America since I refused to stay in England. They also helped me see that I actually have limited magic! I can do magic! Not enough though to do anything with. I learned a few spells that bind objects together and how to open a lock. That's helpful. I've even met a girl that's going to America with me. Victoria Stratford. She lost her family at the camps round the time the Allies came. I know the feeling. I thought I was dead when that soldier turned to me. Then Harrison… (Here, the writing was smeared and Ron guessed the writer had been crying.) He pushed me out of the way and fought the soldier just as his rifle went off. That shot missed and blimey, was that Nazi angry! Potter went right up to that man and started swinging. His right arm was still not working because of his previous injury, but he used his left to throw some solid punches. What a fighter that Potter! (Ron covered his mouth to stop laughing.) That soldier shoved him aside with the rifle and pointed it at me again. I knew the end was coming and closed my eyes. I then felt someone big cradling me in their arms as the shot was fired. I felt blood going down my back and opened my eyes. The sight will always be in my mind forever. The Nazi looked angry but fled without taking aim again. I wriggled free of Harri's grasp and tried to talk to him. He only smiled and gave me this journal. Then he took his final breath and fell to the ground. I know I was in shock. That's what they told me, those Allied soldiers. One chap ran to me and carried me to his group. All the time I was being carried, I don't recall shedding a tear, but I know I held onto this journal. I saw an American flag on the chap's uniform. I think that is why I want to go to America: safety. To anyone who finds this entry, since it is hidden by spells I am proud to say I did, go to the last page. It will be tacked onto the back cover with a corner nipped off. You'll find something rather important there. As they say in France, bonne chance! -Thomas O. Black Ron turned to the back cover to see that there was indeed a page with a corner missing. Smiling, he shut the book so he could show Harry later at breakfast. "Harry? Harrrrry… Oi, Potter! You are heavy. Get up!" Ron said to his sleeping friend. "So warm…" Harry murmured. "Oh, Merlin… Harry!" Ron said as he shoved Harry away. "What? Huh? Oh. Right… sorry about that," Harry said as he rubbed his eyes. "That's okay. You needed to sleep, but on me?" "I slept on you?" "Yep. You said I was warm," Ron said with a smirk. "Ack! Okay, you tell this to no one," Harry told him, blushing. "That's okay. How 'bout breakfast? Are you up for that?" "Sure. I'm starving!" Harry bounded off the bench and started back towards the hotel. Ron hung back with the journal in his hand. He looked at the journal then at his friend who was now waiting for him at the crosswalk. Smiling, he put the journal in his jacket pocket and joined Harry for the walk back to the hotel. * Later that day, Ron found Harry and Ginny on the bed in the boys' room. Ginny was leaning against the headboard with Harry's head cradled in her lap. He was sound asleep, a peaceful expression on his face as Ginny gently brushed the fringe off his forehead. Normally, Ron would have been bothered by the scene, but today was different. He just smirked and walked in without a word. He could see Ginny ready to challenge him just as Harry stirred. "Definitely not something I wanted to see just now," Harry commented as Ron pulled a chair up to the bed. "Thanks, Harry," he said before looking at his sister. "Ginny, can you give us a moment? Please?" Ginny cocked an eyebrow in surprise and left. When Ginny had shut the door, Harry sat up and stared at his friend curiously. "You just kicked Ginny out? What's up?" "Got something to show you," Ron told him, getting the journal out. "I've tried all day to get this page open, and I can't do it." "Hold on, a page to open? Did I miss something?" Ron handed over the diary and showed him the new passage. After Harry read it, he turned to the back cover and saw the aforementioned page. He tried the usual unlocking spells without success. He did not want to get Hermione, but he needed help. Ron looked at the page and had an idea. "What if it's a specific set of words? Like the Marauder's Map." "It could work, but what would open it? There must be thousands of combinations." "We could start with something from the Black family history. Like, I don't know, the family motto." "Oh, that bit. 'Always Pure,' I think." "That would be…." "Tourjors Pur. It's French." "How would you know?" "Hermione. You know she can remember anything she puts her mind to, right?" "Smart girl, that Hermione." "Obviously. Now back to the… hold on, look at this!" Harry said as he looked at the book. The page had opened to reveal a small compartment containing a letter folded into quarters and two sets of military dog tags, one of which held a wedding band. There was an insignia on the bottom corner of the paper. Ron stared as Harry lifted them to the light and examined the two sets. The one with the ring he set aside while he continued to gaze at the other one. J. Harrison Potter "Wow!" he breathed. Ron picked up the other set of dog tags and saw Ronald's name and personal information was stamped on them. The ring had a woman's name engraved on the inside band: Amelia Benett Myers. As he looked back at the book, he saw two Muggle pictures of a family. They were the same pictures of Ronald's family that Harrison had described in the journal. His hands trembling with excitement, he removed the folded letter and opened it carefully. It had been typed in June, but the date was worn away slightly. He looked up to see Harry still gazing at J. Harrison's dog tags. With a decisive sigh he put them around his neck. When he looked up, he looked proud. * "Your mum is going to kill me, Ron!" Harry said exasperated. "It's the only way this will work. Besides, we leave in two days! We need to get this done now." They were arguing at the Topeka airport as they followed the signs to the rental car desk. They had found that Muggle airports had a specific section for wizarding travels across the states. Harry paid for the fare while Ron got the correct Portkey quadrants. They reached the rental place and hired a car to drive to Emporia. Ron drove since he had an international license which allowed him to drive anywhere. Harry sat in the passenger seat following the map the rental place had provided and watching the exits flash by. The drive was a long one, at least two hours by Harry's reckoning, especially since they had to stop three times to get better directions. When they finally reached Emporia, they stopped for lunch at a restaurant. "Any reason why they have a giant pepper on the place?" Harry snickered at Ron's question and told him to read the name of the restaurant. Ron's ears matched the sign when he realized the connection. The first thing they noticed upon entering was the spicy aromas that greeted them before any waiter or waitress said a word to them. After ordering, they flipped through phonebooks to find the Myers. Ron found ten people with the last name. Harry put his head on the table and sighed. "This is getting worse by the hour," he groaned. "Ten people! I take it that they live at opposite ends of the city, too." "So pessimistic. It will work out." "What did you find when you were searching for his family?" Harry asked inquisitively. "I'm sure there's some information about their whereabouts." "Yeah, but the inner net wouldn't let me see that sort of stuff." "For the second time, Ron, it's 'internet'. I really think Hermione and I need to teach you Muggle language." "Not funny," Ron muttered, looking around the restaurant. With the unspoken idea in mind, Harry sat in silence, letting the thought permeate through his mind. He knew that it would have to wait until after lunch, but he at least had something to think about besides the journal. After their lunch, which was too flavourful for Harry's palate (but just right for Ron's), they went to the car. "Try going to the Visitor's Centre," Harry suggested, knowing that the Weasleys had done that when they had first arrived in New York. Ron gave him a curious look, but followed his directions. It only took a few minutes to reach their destination and they decided that Harry would get out. He went inside and looked for the wizarding sign that was in every Visitor's Centre. It took some searching, but he finally found it amongst the many pamphlets grouped together on a rack near the drinking fountains. He pressed down on the paper and was Portkeyed to the wizarding version of the Visitor's Centre. "Can I help you?" a young blonde receptionist asked from the desk. "I was wondering if you could locate someone for me?" he asked nicely as he approached the desk. "Most certainly. Name please," she inquired while moving the fringe off her face. "My name?" "The name of who you are looking for." "Oh… Amelia Benett Myer." He wandered around the room while the receptionist consulted a machine that looked like a computer, but probably wasn't: he knew that computers wouldn't work in places with magic permeating the air. As he looked at the room, he noticed the walls changed colors slightly, like the inside of a shell. It made his head hurt. It took almost ten minutes before the receptionist finally had an answer. "I'm sorry it took some time. You didn't tell me Amelia Myer was a Muggle." "Is that a problem?" he asked, slightly concerned. "No. We found her. She's old by Muggle standards and still in good health," she said, typing something else on the keyboard. "You'll find her in a small subdivision about two miles east of the Centre you came from. Would you like her address?" Harry nodded affirmatively and the receptionist held her hand out. A paper swan fluttered to her upturned palm. Harry wondered absently why they didn't use an airplane shape. "The name, address and map are on this paper. Would you like for us to contact her before you arrive at her place?" Harry declined the offer before taking the Portkey back to the Visitor's Centre he had come from. He briskly walked out of the building and tapped on the wind screen of the car to get Ron to unlock the door. "Well?" Ron asked as Harry sat down and closed the door. "I got the address and everything. Now all we have to do is give her these," Harry said, holding the tags and ring up. "I just hope we can do this without looking dodgy." "I think that it's up to you. It's your grand-uncle's story. I don't have a say in it anyway." Harry sighed in agreement as Ron pulled out of the parking space. He knew he had to talk to Mrs Myer, but he had no idea what to say. As they travelled, he began to have second thoughts about this whole mission of his. With each thought came a wave of doubt that made him worry. He was so deep in his thoughts, he didn't realize that Ron had reached the house and was parking the car. Harry looked out the window to see an old house centred in a quaint garden filled with flowering plants and a lawn his relatives would have been envious of. Sighing, he slowly got out of the car and looked around some more. It was a quiet place except for the twittering birds in the trees nearby. The air was a bit thick with humidity, but that was the only discomfort he noted. He leaned against the car and looked at the house before him. As he studied the front facade he felt his Gryffindor courage leaving him. It wasn't until Ron gave him a shove that he started to walk to the door. With each step, he felt his worry grow heavy, as if the tags he carried in his pocket were weighing him down. Finally, he reached the door and knocked quickly. He could hear the sounds of a small dog barking from behind the door and someone walking towards it. He almost turned around, but Ron's firm grip on his shoulder prevented that. "For someone who could battle dragons, grindylows, Acromantulas and other sorts of creatures," Ron whispered slowly, "you sure are terrible about confrontation." Harry smiled thinly at the comment before it dissolved away as the lock clicked open. He saw a young man, about his age, looking at him from the open doorway. In the background, the little dog yapped loudly. "Hi," Harry stated rather nervously, "we're wondering if Amelia Benett Meyer lives here?" "Yeah, she does. Why?" the young asked suspiciously. "I have something that belongs to Mrs. Myer that I think she might want. It has her name on it," Harry told him, holding up the chain containing the dog tags and wedding band. "These were found amongst my family's possessions." The young man cautiously opened the door and extended a hand towards the chain. "May I take these to my grandmother?" Harry nodded his consent and handed over the chain. The youth disappeared back into the house only to return moments later. "My grandmother would like you to come in," he said formally. He opened the door wide to let Harry and Ron into the house. Harry and Ron stepped inside cautiously, looking round at their surroundings. The little dog was still yapping ferociously at them, trying to scare them away. Its little barks and frantic scratching on their ankles made them snicker at its feeble attempts of being mean as they followed the young man further into the house. "My grandmother wasn't expecting visitors, so it will be a few minutes," the young man said when they had come completely into the living room. He pointed to some old-fashioned chairs. "Please, have a seat. Would you like something to drink? Grandmother will be with you in a few minutes." Harry and Ron declined and sat down as the youth disappeared into the next room. "They call this a dog?" Ron snickered quietly, pointing to the dog who was now growling at them from the opposite end of the room. "It looks like Scabbers without fur." Harry smiled at the comment before hearing some voices in the other room. His smile faded as he heard movement and looked towards the doorway where the voices where coming from. The young man entered the room first followed by an elderly woman. She looked frail, but she carried herself with dignity as she moved with a cane to a comfy chair across from Ron and next to Harry. The young man helped her sit. "You'll have to excuse Ethan. He's a little tense about starting school," she said gently before turning her gaze to Harry. "Now then, young man, where did you find this ring?" "It was in my family's vault," he said softly. "I may look old, but I'm not fragile. Talk a bit louder so I can hear what you're trying to say. You sound as though you're nervous." "That's because I am," Harry admitted a little more loudly. "I don't want to cause you grief." "You're not. I've been wondering for all these years where this ring went to. Please tell me about why you're here and maybe you can explain how it came into your possession." Slowly, Harry began to talk of his grand-uncle's war stories from the journal. With the first mention of Ronald Myer, he could see Amelia take a sharp breath and look away slightly. He stopped for fear that he had offended her. "Ronald was my husband," she said, taking one of Harry's hands. "I have a feeling that your grand-uncle was a good friend to him. Tell me more and leave no detail unturned." Sighing, he resumed the story. All the while Amelia continued to hold onto his hand. He could see, too, that Ethan was watching him from the doorway, an incredulous expression on his face. When he got to the part about his grand-uncle getting spooked by an owl, he could see Amelia smile softly. "I always wondered about that," she muttered. "Wondered about what?" Harry asked. "I got a letter from him once during the war that was not post marked. I saw an owl carrying it and I thought it was the strangest thing, but it was rather amusing when I saw that it had a letter from my husband. My children and grandchild think that I made this story up. I even have the feather from this creature and the letter it delivered." He could see Ethan shake his head slowly in disbelief while Ron turned his head so the Myers would not see his amused expression. "Well…That could be a story for another time," Harry said. "It's not common, but interesting to see." Amelia nodded in agreement as Harry continued with the story sans wizarding references. It took a good part of an hour before he finally finished the story with his grand-uncle's reaction to his friend's death. Amelia smiled sadly as a tear slid down her wrinkled cheek. Harry felt like rubbish when he discovered he had made her cry. "I am glad that you came. Don't let these tears deter you otherwise. I'm glad to hear of what happened to my husband," she said while squeezing his hand. "What happened to your grand-uncle?" "He died in the war a few months later," Harry said stoically. "He was a good man," she murmured. "What was your name?" "Harry," he answered. "Harry Potter." "I have a feeling that you were named after him based on what you've told me," she mused before finally releasing his hand. Harry couldn't say anything for a moment as she picked up the dog tags. He briefly looked to her and smiled. He got up and started to the door but noticed that Ron was not behind him. He turned to see Ron get something out of his pocket and hand it to her. Harry smacked himself mentally for forgetting that he had the pictures. "I never asked your name, either. What is it?" "Ron… Ronald, actually, but my friends call me Ron," Ron said with a hint of red appearing on his ears. "It's a good name," she told him assuredly. "Be proud of it." Ron thanked her and soon followed Harry as they left the house. They walked back to the car and looked at the house once more. He could see Ethan looking out at them and a faint outline of Amelia in the background still sitting with the tags in her hands. They got into the car and left the neighbourhood. While Ron drove to the airport, Harry took his grand-uncle's tags from under his shirt and fiddled with them. The tags felt worn, used, experienced. J. Harrison's name was stamped into the metal, and he could feel the individual letters as he examined them. He could feel the nicks and dents on them as he moved his fingers over the metal and he wondered where they had all come from. They made trip in silence, each lost in his own thoughts. They Portkeyed back to New York in the late afternoon and ate in a quiet deli, still not saying much. Finally, they made the trip back to the hotel and braced themselves for what could be the worst possible scolding besides a Howler. The entire Weasley family plus Hermione were waiting for them in the foyer as they walked in. Just as they were about to lay into them, they saw Harry's face. Harry just looked at them before heading to his room without a word to anyone. He changed into pyjamas and crawled under the sheets. Ron soon came in and did the same. Just as Ron's snores filled the air, Harry felt a small body slide under the covers next to him. Turning, he saw Ginny staring at him. He looked at her curiously, wondering how she managed to get in his room and not wake up Ron. "I promise to refrain from yelling, but please give me an explanation as to why you and my brother were gone all day," she requested. "It's real hard to explain, Ginny," he sighed. "It's not something I planned to tell you yet, and the only reason Ron is involved is because he forced me to tell him. If you really want to know, then look at what's around my neck." He watched as she pulled the chain from under his pyjama shirt and studied it in the dim light. Finally, she smiled at him and tucked the tags back into his shirt before wrapping her arms around him and holding him close. For the first time in weeks, Harry fell into a restful sleep, undisturbed by nightmares. * The next morning, Harry woke to the usual chorus of Weasley snores and found someone warm and soft in his arms. He inhaled a flowery scent he knew so well and smiled. "Morning, Ginny," he whispered in her ear. "That tickles," she murmured as she shifted into a more comfortable position. "So what do you think we should do before your mother realizes you have not been in your own bed?" "Go to that bakery Ron raves about. Then you can tell me, about this if you want," she said, holding up the tags. "We'll see. Now let go of me so we can get ready," he told her with a smile. "Oh why? You're so comfortable." "I know I make a great pillow, but I will be thrown like one if your parents or, worse, your brothers, see us," he said unwrapping himself from her. "You're no fun, but okay. Downstairs in ten?" He nodded before she stealthily left the room. He got out of bed and got ready for his bakery date with Ginny. Soon, they walked silently to the bakery and ordered breakfast. He could tell Ginny wanted to talk about the tags, but he was not too sure about telling her yet. He was still caught in the moment when he spoke to Amelia. He knew that he would have to eventually tell the Weasleys about the journal, but that would be for later. He looked up to see Ginny staring at him as she stirred her tea. Smiling slightly, he took her hand and kissed it. "Cute, Harry. Now what's going on?" "Quick to the point, aren't we?" he joked. She did not smile back. "Okay then. Well, this is hard to explain really. I would give you another way of knowing, but it's a tender subject." "What? That made no sense Harry." "It's a bloody journal I've been reading lately." He held up his hands as if to ward off a scolding Ginny was about to give him. "I know how you feel about diaries and journals and that's why I didn't want to get you involved in this mess," he said defensively. "Okay, you've been reading a diary, but that still doesn't explain where you disappeared to yesterday," Ginny said, scowling. Harry sighed. "I'm getting to that. The diary was my grand-uncle's and his story is very hard for me to tell." He fished the dog tags out from beneath his shirt and sat fingering them as he gathered his next thoughts. Finally, he said, "He wore these when he was fighting in World War II. They're the only piece of war memorabilia I have of him other than the diary." "How did you get them?" "The vault the day of my birthday. I fell on the journal, actually. Then I began to read it and eventually found the dog tags were stuck in the back of it. Amazing really." "Okay. I guess I'll let you tell me another time. I just didn't realize what those really were. I saw what looked like your name on there and thought they were yours." "It seems like it. J. Harrison. I wonder what the J. stands for?" Harry mused aloud as he looked at the tags. "Maybe we'll find out when we get back," Ginny added as she finished her muffin. "Well, I can figure that Harrison is part of my name. I got that from the entries. People called him Harry." "Makes sense." "He had a friend he called Ron." "Okay, getting creepy." "I know. It gets creepier later on. But that will be for another time. Now I need to find the reason for the J." Harry stated as he got up. * Harry found the family-tracing spell the night before he, Ron, Hermione, and Ginny left for Hogwarts. It had taken the better part of the week, since their return from America, for him and Hermione to find it hidden in one of the Dark Arts books in the Black Family library whenever they had a chance to leave the Burrow for research. The spell required a bowl of water and a drop of blood to work properly and Hermione was dead set against him performing such Dark magic. However, when no one was looking, Harry borrowed a small bowl from the kitchen and hid it in his trunk with the intension of performing the spell later that night back at The Burrow. At two in the morning, Harry slipped out of bed, and easing open his trunk, took out the bowl, his wand and his potions kit and stole down the stairs and outside to the Weasleys' broom shed. His heart pounding, he nicked his finger with his silver potions knife and let several drops of blood drop into the bowl of water. He then wrapped his finger and opened the book to the proper page. He was ready to begin. Letting his wand hover over the bowl, Harry softly spoke the incantation. The liquid in the bowl shimmered and glowed as smoke began rising from its surface. As it rose, letters formed and Harry was amazed to see his own name appear in shimmering gold. More names formed above his: James Potter and Lily Evans Potter became branches of his family tree. The smoky tree continued to grow, adding names in blue for his father's family and in pink for his mother's. Eagerly, Harry traced a finger up his father's side of the tree to find his grandfather, Jeremiah William Potter. Next to it was that of his older brother, James Harrison Potter. Ah ha! That's what J. means, Harry thought gleefully as he read the name. He continued reading the names as he looked up through the list. As he read higher, he grabbed a chair to read what he could of the list. Even then, he could not read all the names of the Potter branch and wondered how far back it went. But sleep was getting the best of him, and he soon stopped the spell. As the smoke dissipated, he smiled knowing that he was named after a great man. He took the bowl and book downstairs, one to clean and one to pack. He could only hope that he would survive the year without too much trouble, but he felt it was a hopeless wish. He finished packing the book and crashed onto the couch. It was late, no point in trudging upstairs just to come back down in an hour. Taking a blanket, he curled up and fell asleep with his grand-uncle's tags still around his neck. The End So this could not be done without the extremely brilliant beta Arnel. Thank you so much for fixing the odd passages and some of the research needed for this piece.
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