Chapter Text
It was terribly awkward, the first night, after the feast had ended and they were all in their dorm room. Ron, of course, in his ham-fisted way, was trying to be supportive of Harry. This mostly resulted in fierce glares across the room, but Harry appreciated the sentiment.
Dean and Seamus, who knew what was going on, (because everyone knew), were quietly talking to one another on Dean’s bed. They seemed intent on disappearing into the background. Still, Harry felt acutely observed, and he desperately wished that he could have had this first encounter in privacy.
“Hullo, Nev,” Harry finally said. Neville was leaning over his trunk, his ears crimson. He jolted upright, and gave Harry a look of utter terror. Finally, seemingly unable to speak, he managed to nod at Harry, and he closed the lid to his trunk, a little harder than was necessary. Sitting on his bed, Harry remembered the previous year, when the five of them had spent their first night back listening to the wireless and eating sweets together.
Unable to stay in the stifling, uncomfortably quiet dorm any longer, Harry grabbed his cloak and exchanged a look with Ron before sweeping down the stairs and through the common room, pulling his cloak over him and disappearing from sight. I wonder if I’ll be allowed to keep this, he thought spitefully of the invisibility cloak, and proceeded to roam the castle until the early hours of the morning, unwilling to stop even for a moment, lest his thoughts take root. Harry worried that, if he allowed himself, he might start screaming and never stop.
Breakfast the following morning was dreadful as well. Harry sat far away from his usual spot, but unthinkingly, he’d settled close to where Malfoy sat at the Slytherin table. “Potter,” he hissed, repeating himself until, nearly maddened, Harry looked around at him. “Heard your father’s finally come to his senses.”
“Shut up, Malfoy.”
“It was only a matter of time,” Malfoy continued gleefully. “After all, sooner or later, even the stupidest Gryffindor gets tired of bedding a Mudblood.”
“Shut up,” Harry said quietly. His hand had gripped the edge of the table when Malfoy had begun speaking, and his knuckles were white.
“Won’t be long before he trades his son in as well, I suppose. At least Longbottom’s a Pureblood, even if he is thick as a post.”
“Shut up!” Harry’s furious voice echoed through the Great Hall, and, unsummoned, his magic burst from the tips of his outstretched fingers, hitting Malfoy dead on, and sending him sprawling backward onto the stone.
The Hall abruptly went quiet, as everyone gaped at the spectacle. “Mister Potter.” A cold voice broke the silence. Harry closed his eyes briefly. “Headmaster’s office. Now.” Harry didn’t bother to acknowledge Snape, and simply rose and left the Hall, catching Hermione’s sympathetic gaze as he did.
Somehow, both Snape and McGonagall beat him to Dumbledore’s office. The Headmaster was sitting behind his desk, and regarded him solemnly. “Harry,” he said quietly. “I did not expect to see you this soon after your arrival.” He smiled. “I believe this might be a record, not even twenty-four hours.”
Harry regarded the toes of his trainers. He was mortified, obviously, and wished that Dumbledore would just give him his punishment and allow him to leave. “Harry,” McGonagall said, her voice uncommonly gentle, “I know that you’ve been going through a difficult time lately-”
“I’m fine, ma’am,” Harry said quickly. He had to forestall this, because he wasn’t sure what he’d do in the face of her pity.
“Be that as it may, Potter,” Snape spat, “if you’re so arrogant as to think you can get away with hexing my students, you’re stupider than you look.”
“Severus,” Dumbledore chided mildly. “Mister Potter, I’m certain that you know the inappropriateness of your actions.”
“I do,” he muttered. He thought about mentioning that he hadn’t intentionally hexed Malfoy, but decided it would cause more trouble than it solved.
“And I’m sure you’d agree that we can’t allow such a thing to go unpunished.”
“Yes, sir,” Harry sighed.
“You’ll miss the first two Quidditch matches, I’m afraid,” Dumbledore said, “since you’re banned from flying until the Yule break.”
For a moment, Harry opened his mouth to protest, but just a quickly, he closed it again. Yes, being banned from flying was a disappointment, but he wouldn’t win this fight. “Yes, sir,” he said, because it appeared that Dumbledore was waiting for him to speak.
Finally, mercifully, he was allowed to leave, and he escaped to the tree by the lake where he did a lot of his thinking. He was missing classes, but he couldn’t bring himself to care. A part of him rankled that Malfoy was allowed to call his Mother a despicable slur, but he supposed he’d need to get used to it. His parents were both the recipients of a great deal of criticism these days, their society still being rather traditional.
It was stupid, he decided. Everything was stupid. He sat out under his tree until it was well after dark, and his robes grew damp with the evening dew. Once he was certain that it was late enough not to run into anyone in the common room or his dorm, he returned inside, only to lay awake for most of the night, feeling sorry for his younger, naive self, but feeling a lot sorrier for the one who knew what was going on.
He practically slept-walked through the next three weeks. Somehow, mostly with Hermione’s frustrated intervention, he turned in assignments, but more often than not, he sat woodenly in classes, his eyes firmly fixed on the wall opposite, unheeding of anything going on around him. He was no better in the halls or at meals, but, if nothing else, it allowed him to avoid the whispering and gossip that surrounded him wherever he went.
The result of this was that he was pulled from Charms class one Tuesday afternoon, and summoned to Dumbledore’s office. His feet dragged as he obeyed, and for a little bit, he considered simply leaving. He had his OWLs, after all, and he’d be seventeen in the summer. He thought he might have enough saved up in his vault to support himself until he could get a job.
His fantasy was shattered, however, when he arrived in Dumbledore’s office to see the two people he’d never expected to be sitting next to one another again. His eyes widened, but he quickly closed off his expression.
“Harry, love.” His Mum rose and hugged him tightly. He stiffened in her embrace, and pulled away.
“Harry.” His Dad also stood, his crisp Auror robes flowing around him. He held out a hand for Harry to shake, and then, at Harry’s incredulous glare, shoved it through his hair anxiously.
“Please sit down, Harry,” Dumbledore invited.
“I’d rather not, sir,” Harry said.
“Harry.” His Father’s voice was sharp.
“Look, whatever this is, I don’t want anything to do with it.” Harry’s voice was equally sharp. He looked at Dumbledore. “What is it you need, Professor?”
“We’re here to discuss you,” His Father said.
Harry scowled at him. “I wasn’t speaking to you…sir.” He turned dismissively and returned his attention to his Mother. “Professor? I need to be returning to Transfiguration.”
“If memory serves, Harry, you were actually in Charms class,” Dumbledore pointed out. “Harry, we’re all quite worried about you.”
“I’m fine.”
James Potter scoffed, and Harry turned back to him, his eyes nearly black with anger. “What is it you need, Auror Potter? I think you might be in the wrong meeting.” James looked puzzled. “You see, this meeting seems to be about Harry Potter. No concern of yours, I’m sure.”
“Where did you develop this attitude?” James demanded.
“Must have happened over the summer,” Harry replied flippantly. “A boy without a Father picks up all sorts of bad habits.”
“Harry,” his Mum said entreatingly.
“You know that I couldn’t see you this summer,” James protested.
“Right,” Harry said. “Because she needed you.”
“She was very ill, Harry.”
“Couldn’t have happened to a nicer home wrecker,” Harry spat bitterly. He turned and grasped the door handle, but it remained firmly shut.
“Harry James Potter, sit down, now.” James growled.
“Or what? You’ll each of you go form new families?” Harry’s head was filled with a rising, urgent noise, as if it were suddenly full of bees. He tugged on the door again. “Let me out,” he said to Dumbledore, without turning around.
“Harry, I really must insist-”
“Let me out,” he repeated, louder. There was no answer, and the door didn’t yield. The buzzing grew louder, and Harry started to feel detached from his body, as though he were nothing more than a floating head. As the tension rose, he felt his hair moving, as though blowing in a breeze, although he knew that Dumbledore’s windows had been closed. Everything froze for a heartbeat, an inhale, and then the air and energy came rushing back. There was an enormous noise, of glass breaking and things toppling over, and finally, mercifully, the door opened, and Harry fled.
***
He ran unthinkingly, unheeding of his surroundings, until he tripped on a tree root, and went sprawling to the ground. He looked around and blinked in confusion. For one thing, it was night, and he was in the Forbidden Forest. For another, he could hear the sounds of something…terrible happening at the Castle.
He got to his feet, intent on returning to find out what was happening, and how he’d managed to lose an entire afternoon, when an invisible hand grabbed his arm. He shouted in surprise, and a hand appeared from nowhere, and clamped itself over his mouth.
“Would you shut up?” A familiar voice hissed at him. Weak with shock, Harry stood dumbly. A ripple, and Harry’s own head appeared from the folds of the invisibility cloak.
“Who the fuck are you?” Harry whispered.
“I should ask you the same thing! The last thing we need is two fucking Potters here. Is this another Polyjuice thing? Ron? Is that you?” The other Harry looked furious.
“No,” Harry said, “I’m Harry.”
“Shut up! You’re ruining everything! Go away, whoever you are!” The other Harry looked as though he were going mental. He was pulling at his hair in frustration, and Harry realized that he was awfully thin, and really filthy.
“I’m not joking,” Harry said. “I don’t know what’s happening. Just a second ago, it was daytime, and I left my parents in Dumbledore’s office, and next thing I knew, I turned up here.”
The other Harry gaped at him. “Is this some sort of cruel joke?” He asked incredulously. “Who the fuck has time to be playing a goddamned prank at a time like this?”
Just then, the distinctive sound of flapping wings filled the clearing, and Dumbledore’s Phoenix landed in front of them. “Fawkes,” the other Harry breathed. “You’re back.”
Stop fighting. The voice was in Harry’s head, and from the looks of things, it was happening to other Harry too. You are both Harry Potter, just from different realities. You have been given a gift, by the fates.
“Is it going to help me fight Voldemort?” The other Harry demanded. “Because I’m sort of busy at the moment.”
Fear not. The fates have frozen time to give you what you need. Speak to one another. Tell each other what troubles your heart. The perspective you will gain will be of value to you.
Harry looked around. Sure enough, everything seemed completely frozen, save Fawkes, the other Harry and himself. Even the leaves on the trees had stopped trembling in the breeze.
The other Harry shrugged. “Alright then,” he said, “What’s your problem?”
“Rude,” Harry muttered. He looked at the other Harry. “If you must know, my entire world just fell apart.”
“No idea what that’s like,” Other Harry replied. “Alright, I’ll bite. What happened.”
“It’s Dad,” he said. “I dunno if he did the same thing in your world, but he’s been having an affair.”
“No,” Other Harry said evenly, after a long time. “He did not do that here. Go on.”
“When I got off the Hogwarts Express this summer, Uncle Sirius was the one to pick me up, and he kept me at his house for a couple of days.” A strange look crossed Other Harry’s face, but he merely nodded. “I was worried, yeah? Because Mum and Dad always are there to pick me up. We always go to the Lake House for the first week of summer vacation. Anyway, after two days, I was climbing the walls, but then Dad showed up. I’d been at Sirius’ because Dad was packing his stuff. He didn’t want me home to see it.”
He scrubbed a hand through his hair in frustration. “It turns out, he’s been with Aunt Alice for ages. Years! My Godmother, Neville’s Mum! Only now she’s pregnant, and so he went off to live with her. And Neville. And then that was the last I saw of him for the whole summer.”
“And that constitutes your whole world falling apart?” Other Harry asked. His tone was perfectly polite, but something about it made Harry bristle.
“Not hardly,” he retorted. “I was shaken up by what Dad told me, and I just wanted to go home. But the bombshells kept dropping. I got home to find Mum there, and she had news too. Because she’d been cheating on Dad as well. And now that he was leaving, she was free to date her boyfriend out in the open. And, get this, mate. It’s Snape!”
“Alright,” admitted Other Harry. “I can see why that might be a bit off-putting.”
“A bit off-putting? Mate, our Mum is fucking Severus greasy-git Snape! Or maybe he doesn’t despise you here.”
“No,” Other Harry said, looking into the middle distance. “He hates...hated...me here too.” He looked at Harry critically. “So that’s it? Your parents don’t love each other any more? That’s the big tragedy of your life?”
“Hey, fuck you,” Harry said, offended. “How would you feel if your Dad suddenly replaced you with a new family?”
“I don’t know,” Other Harry said lightly, “seeing as how my Dad’s been dead since I was one.”
Harry felt suddenly weak. “He is?”
Other Harry nodded. “Mum too.”
“But…what? How?”
“Is Voldemort not a thing where you come from?”
“Well, no, not anymore. Something happened with him and my parents when I was a baby, and he got…I dunno, blown up or something.”
“Ah. That happened here too, only he killed Mum and Dad, and tried to kill me, but the curse backfired, and he disappeared, but didn’t properly die. And he started trying to come back to life when I was eleven, and nearly killed me a bunch of times until he actually came back at the end of fourth year.”
“Merlin,” Harry said. “So he’s just…after you?”
“Kind of,” Other Harry admitted.
“But isn’t Uncle Sirius protecting you? I have to think he’d have been training you since day one.”
Other Harry shook his head. “He was framed for my parents’ murder, and spent twelve years in Azkaban. He broke out in third year, but…well, he died.”
“No.” Harry shivered. He didn’t know the Sirius here, but he couldn’t imagine his kind, joyful godfather being framed for killing his parents. “Who set him up?”
“Peter Pettigrew,” Other Harry spat.
“Uncle Peter?” The shocks kept coming. “So did you grow up with Uncle Remus then?”
“No,” Other Harry said darkly. “I grew up with the Dursley’s.”
“Mum’s sister? How are you even alive? I had to stay with them for a weekend once, and that cow didn’t feed me once.”
He nodded grimly. “It’s about the same here. Remus sort of…went missing after Sirius went to prison. I’ve only known him since third year as well. Did he marry Tonks in your world?”
“Nymphadora Tonks? Merlin, no. He’s with Sirius.” Something occurred to Harry. “Hey, what’s happening at the Castle? We are in the Forbidden Forest, right?”
Other Harry nodded. “They’re here. The Death Eaters. Voldemort.”
“Holy fuck.” Harry looked around wildly. “What do we do?”
“Relax,” Other Harry said. “I’ve got it covered. I was just going to go face him now.”
“What? Why isn’t Dumbledore going to do it?” Harry asked, appalled. “You’re just a kid.”
“I’ve never been a kid,” Other Harry said bleakly. “Dumbledore’s dead.” He looked around. “Who isn’t dead?” He sighed. “I have to. Otherwise he won’t die. It has to be me. There’s a prophecy.”
“But…are you strong enough? To beat him?”
“No,” Other Harry replied. He had a half-smile on his face and his voice was soft. “It’s okay, though. I think I’ve been on borrowed time for sixteen years.”
“But, you. You’re just a kid. You can’t just…We have to do something.” Harry looked around wildly. “We have to find someone to help us.”
Other Harry’s smile grew. “You’re a decent bloke, for all that you’re a bit spoiled. Listen, don’t fret. I have to face him, and I have to die, but I’ll take him with me, if I can. It’s worth it.”
“But. You didn’t even get a chance to do anything yet!” Harry heard his voice getting higher and more irrational. “You can’t!” He looked at the Other Harry. They were the same age, pretty much, but Other Harry looked old. There was something about his eyes that spoke of pain, and loss, and loneliness. An idea occurred to him. “Let me.”
“What?”
“I’ll go. I’ll face him. You can go back to my life. I’ll admit, it’s a bit of a mess compared to how it was last year, but it’s alright, I reckon. You’ll have a chance to get to know Mum and Dad. I just got banned from flying until the New Year, so sorry about that. Still though, it’s better than dying.”
“How did you get banned?”
“Malfoy,” Harry growled.
Other Harry grinned. “He’s a prat here too.” His smile fell. “That’s really nice of you, Harry, honestly. I really think you mean it, too. But it has to be me. I’ve got…there’s something special about my scar that means it has to be me.”
“Are you sure? We can’t find a way to make it work?”
“I’m sure.”
“What can I do?” Harry hated feeling this helpless.
“Nothing. Live. Don’t be such a selfish little shit. You’re seventeen, don’t your parents deserve to have lives as well? So they aren’t together anymore, what do you care?”
“But Dad…”
“Merlin, mate, are you really going to hold a grudge about this? My Dad died to save my life, and it sounds like yours somehow saved you as well. ”
Harry opened his mouth to argue, and realized that he had absolutely no leg to stand on. He nodded. “Yeah. Yeah, alright.”
Other Harry patted him on the shoulder. “I should go. Not sure how long Fawkes can keep us in limbo here.”
“Good luck, yeah? For what it’s worth, Mum and Dad would be really proud of you.”
“Yeah, cheers,” Other Harry said, his expression a bit fixed. “Good luck to you too. I know you’ll make them proud as well.”
Other Harry stepped away. Fawkes reappeared, and, with a massive clap of his wings, their surroundings shivered out of the unnatural stillness. Harry watched as his counterpart disappeared into the trees. He took a few steps toward where he’d gone, but Fawkes let out a trill, and Harry froze. Fawkes shook his tail feathers at Harry, and he knew that he was to take hold. With one last look at the dark of the forest, he seized a handful of feathers. Fawkes beat his wings, and there was a flash of fire, and then…darkness.
Harry clawed his way to consciousness, wondering where Fawkes had taken him this time. Squinting blearily, he registered that his surroundings were mostly bright white, just before his nostrils registered the sterile, herby scent that he always associated with the hospital wing. He reached out unseeingly to try to locate his classes. “Just stay still,” a voice said. Harry obeyed, recognizing that it was Poppy Pomphrey, who had patched him up after every childhood scrape and teenaged Quidditch injury. “Drink this.” Harry drank, grimacing at the bitterness.
Pomphrey muttered a charm, and then said to Harry, “I’ve dimmed the lights, so you can open your eyes.” He felt his glasses being gently slid onto his face, and tentatively peeped through his eyelashes. Finding that it was indeed less blindingly bright, he blinked a little. The mediwitch was busily waving her wand, and tutting over the results. Harry had long ago given up on trying to interpret the results himself, so he patiently waited. “You’ll live,” she pronounced.
“Thanks,” Harry said. “What happened?”
“It’s a very exciting story, but I’m much too busy to sit and catch up. I’m sure someone will fill you in soon,” Pomphrey said, laughter in her voice. “Do you feel up to it?”
“I s’pose,” Harry said. He felt a bit stupid about seeing people. The last he remembered being here, he’d been rude and petulant to Dumbledore and his parents. He wouldn’t blame them if they’d gone. Harry was nothing more than a spoiled child, and it was no wonder his parents had gone off to seek their own lives.
In fact, maybe that was the whole point of the weird experience with the Other Harry. He was an adult now, in the strictest sense of the word. Other Harry had been going it alone for his whole life. It was long past time for Harry to do the same.
So resolved, he nodded to himself, and waited for whoever wanted to see him. It was probably Dumbledore. Harry was already in so much trouble. Maybe, after his infantile display, he’d be expelled. He wasn’t sure what sort of job he’d get without his NEWTs, but at least they wouldn’t snap his wand. Maybe Ron’s brother Charlie would let him go work with him. Dragonologists got to fly a lot, didn’t they?
The curtain that separated him from the rest of the Hospital wing parted, and Harry looked up hopefully, only to wilt a little when it turned out to be Dumbledore. “Hello, sir,” he said quietly, staring at his hands.
“How are you feeling?” Dumbledore’s voice was kind, but he was always kind. Even if he were here to expel Harry, he’d do it gently enough to make Harry feel even more guilty.
“Fine, sir.”
“I very much doubt that to be the case,” Dumbledore responded. Harry could hear the smile in his voice, but couldn’t bring himself to meet the man’s eyes. “You expended rather a lot of magical energy. I daresay my office has been thoroughly redecorated.”
Humiliated, Harry forced himself to look up. “I’m very sorry, sir. You can have what’s in my vault to pay to repair the damages, and I’ll make up the rest as soon as I can get a job. I’ve been thinking about that, and-”
“Harry,” Dumbledore said firmly, placing a weathered hand on Harry’s wrist. “Do not concern yourself. I have far too many things, a common problem for a man of my age. You’ve simply helped me declutter.”
Harry looked at him miserably. He’d just send him a Gringott’s draft as soon as he got to Romania. “I should go,” he said. “I’ll just pack my things, and I’ll be gone by nightfall, sir.” He felt tears prickling behind his eyes, but he blinked hard.
“Why would you do that, Harry?”
“Well, I can’t very well hang around here if I’m expelled,” he said, his voice only wavering a little as he said the word.
“You aren’t expelled,” Dumbledore told him solemnly.
“But…I was already in so much trouble. And then I was really disrespectful, and then I ruined your office,” he said. “Of course you’ll have to expel me. If hexing Malfoy lost me my broom for a half year, destruction of property couldn’t possibly be less…”. Harry trailed off as something occurred to him. “Are you calling the Aurors? Will I have to go to Azkaban?” Everyone knew about the wizarding prison, and Harry realized that things were much more serious than he’d thought they were. He could have seriously hurt someone. In fact…Harry knew that his parents had likely just left because they were disgusted with him, but what if he’d hurt them? What if he’d killed them? “Did I…Are my parents alright?” Suddenly, Harry couldn’t breathe. It was as though the room had abruptly had all of the air removed. He was overwhelmed by the urge to flee, and he scrambled to his feet, heedless of the surprisingly strong arm that grabbed his wrist as he moved.
The room started to go dark as he frantically gasped for air, and the sounds were coming from far away, as though he were underwater. He was vaguely aware of a flurry of white, and his mouth being pried open. The potion that had been poured down his throat took effect quickly, and Harry’s panic abruptly faded, replaced by a floaty sort of apathy. He stood, looking dully at his wrist, which was still held fast in Dumbledore’s grip. Absently, he registered firm hands on his shoulders, guiding him to sit back down on the bed, and he allowed it without fuss. It took a few minutes, but the floaty, balloon-headed feeling went away, and Harry was desperately embarrassed.
“I am sorry, Harry. I seem to be doing a spectacular job of winding you up today,” Dumbledore said. “First off, your parents are absolutely fine. You didn’t hurt anyone.”
“Fawkes?” Harry asked worriedly.
“No, he’s just fine as well.” Harry nodded. It stung a bit that his parents had gone, but it was nothing more than he deserved, and at least he hadn’t killed them.
“I must also apologize for the unexpected intervention this morning.”
Harry shook his head. “It’s fine.”
“I admit, I was, or, in fact, your parents and I, were attempting to startle you out of a bout of self-destructive behaviour. I’ve been an educator for a long time, Harry, and I’ve seen young men of your age make just a few bad decisions, and before they know it, they’ve done life-altering things. We hoped that it would prompt a discussion.”
“I know, I’ve been awful,” Harry said. “I wish I’d learned my lesson before I spoiled everything, but I won’t be any more trouble, sir.”
“What have you spoiled?” Dumbledore looked concerned.
Harry felt bleak. “What haven’t I? I’ve ruined my last year at school. I’ll have to give up the Quidditch captaincy, I can’t possibly abandon them for half of the year.” He swallowed hard. “And I’ve driven my parents away.” Saying the words out loud made Harry want to do nothing more than weep into his pillow.
“Alright,” Dumbledore said firmly, “this isn’t going at all how I expected. You never fail to surprise me, Harry. I’m going to go and fetch your, rather frantic, parents, who I persuaded to wait until I’d had a chance to talk you around to listening to them. Before I do so, please believe me, Harry, when I say that you’re not being charged with anything, you aren’t expelled, and your broom confiscation has been replaced with a detention during the first Hogsmeade weekend of the term. Do I make myself clear?” He feigned sternness, but Harry was so frazzled that he wasn’t able to produce a smile.
“Yes, sir,” he said quietly. Dumbledore’s face softened, but he merely patted Harry on the shoulder and took his leave. Harry wasn’t sure what to make of Dumbledore’s assessment of his parents. Somehow he’d managed not to chase them away completely, but maybe they just wanted a chance to shout at him beforehand. He fidgeted with the sleeve of his hospital robes, carefully folding the cuffs so that they were exactly even.
“Harry!” It was his Mum’s voice, but there was something wrong with it. She sounded broken, and Harry looked up in concern. Physically, she looked alright, except for swollen, red-rimmed eyes. She was by his side in an instant, enfolding him in her arms, and squeezing him so tightly it hurt a bit. To his absolute horror, she started to cry, and he held her as she sobbed, uncertain what to do. He couldn’t recall ever having seen his Mother cry before.
His Father was standing at the edge of the curtains, his hands in his pockets, looking a bit wretched. He pointedly ignored Lily’s crying, and it occurred to Harry that she was no longer James’ responsibility, but Harry’s. (Or Snape’s, a nasty part of his brain reminded him.)
Eventually, she settled down enough for Harry to clumsily use the edge of the sheet to mop ineffectually at her face. She laughed at his efforts, and conjured her own handkerchief, vanishing it once she’d finished. “Are you alright?” She asked, her eyes scrutinizing every inch of his face.
“Yeah, Mum. I’m so sorry. I’ve been such an awful prat.”
“Don’t say that, sweetheart. You’ve had to make an awful lot of adjustments.”
“It’s all relative, though,” Harry protested. “I’ve been so spoiled and self-absorbed my whole life, that of course I’m going to struggle with this. But it’s not as though I’ve been…I dunno, wronged or something. I shouldn’t have made this so hard on you all.” Ashamed, he had to look away from his Mum, so he missed the worried look that James and Lily exchanged.
“What’s happened?” Harry’s Mum demanded. “You don’t go from being so furious with us that you blow Dumbledore’s office to bits to…whatever this is?”
“About that,” Harry said sheepishly. “I’ve promised Dumbledore that I’ll pay for as much of the damages as I can out of my vault, and I’ll do the rest as soon as I can find a job.”
“I’ll handle that,” James said. He hadn’t moved from the edge of the curtain. Harry couldn’t read the expression on his face.
“I’ll pay you back, sir,” Harry said. Something complicated crossed his Dad’s face at the term of respect, but Harry had long ago given up trying to sort out what his Father was thinking.
“Harry,” Lily said urgently. “You’re worrying me. What’s wrong?”
“Nothing, Mum, honest,” he replied. He grabbed her hand. “I just gained some perspective. You and Dad have the right to be happy, and it’s unfair for me to get in the way of that.”
“But if what we’re doing makes you that unhappy,” Lily said. “Well, I can’t speak for your Dad, obviously, and his circumstances are different, but, sweetheart, if it makes you unhappy, I’ll end things with Severus.”
Harry winced. “No!” His voice came out louder than he intended. “No,” he repeated, more softly. “That’s not what I want at all. I was being stupid. I’m an adult, and it isn’t any of my business.” He realized something, and winced again. “What time is it?”
“Nearly five,” Lily answered.
“I’m sorry,” he repeated. “I made you both take a whole day away from work. You’re probably both tired, and hungry. You can go. I’ll be fine.”
“Harry-”
“Honest, Mum. I’m fine. Go.” She gave him a look as though leaving was the last thing she wanted to do, but she got up and left all the same, after kissing him on the forehead, and insisting that he owl her the next day.
James still lingered by the curtain. “Did you mean what you said?” He asked finally. “About not wanting to make things hard?”
Harry nodded. “I’m sorry,” he repeated.
A muscle jumped in James’ jaw, as though he were gritting his teeth, and Harry sighed inwardly. He always seemed to make things worse when he tried to talk to his dad.
“I’m sorry,” James replied. “I handled things badly. I didn’t mean to be away for the whole summer. I had hoped we’d be able to spend some time together.” Harry nodded, his green eyes wide and guileless. James waved a hand, trying to find the words to explain. “It’s just that…I had a responsibility.”
“Dad, don’t,” Harry said. “I understand, honestly.”
“But-”
“No, Dad, please. Can we please just leave it alone? I know that I was being selfish and childish, but I understand now, and I won’t be anymore trouble, I promise.”
“Harry, you’re not-”
“Please, Dad?” Harry was begging now. He knew the time would come when he’d have to make proper amends for his mistakes, but he couldn’t bear to hear about all of the things he’d screwed up. “I get it, really. I know you have responsibilities, and I won’t get in the way anymore. Please, Dad, could you just leave it? Just for today?”
He knew that he was only seconds away from tears, and he couldn’t bear to succumb in front of his Father. He lay back on the cot, and pulled the covers over his shoulder. As he turned over on his side, his back to James’ gaze, he heard a huff of breath, and receding footsteps. After peeking over his shoulder to make sure that he was completely alone, he let himself cry, for all of the ways he’d screwed things up, and for the braver, better Harry Potter who’d walked to his death.