Lonely
Harry was enjoying Christmas so far – it was a much appreciated opportunity to relax and not look over his shoulder constantly like he felt he needed to do with the Slytherins. Which was why he spent it with the Weasleys, who had stayed at school just like last time.
Fred and George had picked up on Harry’s mood on Boxing Day fairly quickly and did everything to distract him from anything that was on his mind. But – not for a lack of trying – Voldemort was very hard to get his mind off when Harry saw him every day in the castle, walking around casually, hidden under Quirrell’s turban.
He had to do something about that, but wasn’t sure how and what. He couldn’t tell the teachers or he would need to explain how he came to such an allegation. And he couldn’t do it himself, because Voldemort knew Legilimency and he couldn’t risk his knowledge to get in the hands of Voldemort of all people. To involve his friends was out of question either. First, he wasn’t that close yet with either Ron or Hermione and second, he didn’t want to put them in any kind of danger. He was here to right things and make them better, not get more people killed than he already had the first time around.
Because of that his next step – which he definitely should have taken beforehand, he realized now – was to learn Occlumency, specifically because he was worried, that someone might use Legilimency on him.
Madame Pince didn’t pay him any mind, when he closed himself off in the library during the holidays. Fred and George spent their holidays chasing Percy around the castle and Ron used it to train the new chess pieces Harry had gifted to him. They didn’t question Harry’s liking for the library, but once or twice the twins managed to drag him out of there and have some fun. He had been reluctant at first, but was honestly surprised how well it did him not to worry for once, but have fun with his almost-brothers.
But like everything nice the holidays too came to an end rather quickly and Harry soon was surrounded by the Slytherins again; coming and going, talking about him as they pleased. It was familiar, but also not and Harry wasn’t sure yet how to respond to their almost neutral treatment after so many years of hatred.
The highlight of his week had been, when Malfoy had returned and screamed rather embarrassingly when he found a chicken feather in his bed. Harry had spent the entire day reassuring him, that he had no idea how it had gotten between the sheet and that it was ‘not an Occamy, Malfoy – And no, I don’t think it was a Snallygaster either’. That had been two days ago and Harry asked himself, what had become of his life, now that he was standing in front of Snape’s office, a Draco Malfoy with dark rings under his eyes next to him.
“Potter”, Snape drawled unhappily as he opened the door, then added a more intrigued “Draco.”
“Professor Snape”, Harry said respectfully. “We wondered if you could have a look at a feather Malfoy found in his b-“ “It was an Augurey! I’m sure of it!”, Malfoy babbled, his eyes crazy-wide. “I’m gonna die soon, aren’t I?”
Snape raised his eyebrows unimpressed. Harry couldn’t fault him. The Augurey was a new one and even more outlandish than the other beasts Draco has brought up.
“An Augurey”, Snape repeated slowly. Malfoy was staring at him stoically. “I hope you plan to elaborate on that.” “It’s Potter’s fault!”, Malfoy said to Harry’s surprise. “I don’t doubt that. However, it doesn’t explain my questions.”
“Malfoy found a feather in his bed after the holidays and apparently he thinks I had something to do with it”, Harry said, barely keeping the amusement from his voice. “I don’t see what the big deal is, honestly, it’s just –“
“Sure, because you grew up with Muggles! How would you know how dangerous this could be!”, Malfoy said accusingly. Harry’s amusement only grew.
But to his surprise, Snape had apparently listened to Malfoy’s outburst and found something curious with it. “You grew up with Muggles?”, he asked, his emotions carefully concealed.
Harry couldn’t help but frown. Hadn’t Snape known that he lived with his relatives? He always assumed he knew – he hadn’t been too surprised during his Occlumency lessons when he saw glimpses of his life with the Dursleys, but that could have been Snape obscuring his thoughts as always…
“I live with my Aunt Petunia and Uncle Vernon – and my cousin, Dudley”, Harry said, carefully watching the Professor’s expression. He had deliberately used the names to get a bigger reaction out of him, but all he got was a disdainful sneer and a curl of his lips, as if he had just tasted something foul. In many ways, he reminded Harry of Aunt Petunia in that moment.
“I didn’t ask for your life story, Potter”, Snape sneered again. “So, what was it about that Augurey?”
Malfoy was immediately back to his dramatic antics, blabbered about a dark feather he found between his sheets and – to Harry’s amusement – pulled a feather from somewhere in his cloak and put it on Snape’s desk with two fingers.
Snape looked at the feather, then at the two boys. Harry was worried, that his involvement was all too clearly written on his face, but did his best to entertain a confused expression. And he had to admit, that the long rooster feather was in a very dark green and would fit an Augurey very well. Snape didn’t comment on that similarity, but started by pointing out how ridiculous the other guesses had been; ‘It’s too long to be a Snallygaster feather, Draco, and Occamys tend to be more vibrant in colour.’
Harry, meanwhile, enjoyed himself very much. This wasn’t exactly what he had had in mind when he had picked Slytherin, but his new house was starting to grow on him, even if only for moments like these.
Dejectedly, Malfoy and Harry left the office only a few minutes later, richer with some very interesting facts about Augureys. Malfoy wasn’t afraid anymore, that he’d die soon, now that he knew the Augurey’s cry didn’t really kill you, but he still wasn’t convinced, that the feather in his bed was nothing to worry about.
And so they returned to their dorm with Harry tucking the information away safely as blackmail material.
««»»
After the incident in the Chamber of Secrets, Harry hadn’t heard from Death or Merlin again and he was kind of glad about it. He hadn’t attempted to get rid of the Basilisk again though, in fear of either of them appearing again.
Both their words were echoing in his mind constantly and Harry was trying to figure out what exactly had happened that day. Both Merlin and Death had said something about his ability to ‘call the dead’, but hadn’t elaborated in any way. Maybe that was because the situation had been less than ideal and very confusing already, but Harry was tired of always being the one in the dark. And so, when he realized what those possibilities could entail for him, Harry confined himself in the Room of Requirements, sat down by a nice fire and concentrated deeply on what he wanted.
It was scary and bittersweet and might not even work, but he had to try… he had to hope, that his new strange relationship with Death would be of use for something at least, even if he didn’t fully understand it.
And truth be told…
“Harry?”, a soft voice asked. It was already familiar at this point, even if through memories for the most part.
Harry opened his eyes to see his mother standing in front of him, as real as she had been in limbo, her eyes teary yet again. He could feel his own eyes wet and was up immediately to give her a hug.
She wrapped her arms around him tightly and squeezed. It was almost too tight. Almost. Harry squeezed as well, just enjoying the feeling of his mother around him.
It was almost too good to be true, wasn’t it? He was almost expecting something to happen… something to get her away from him, like her spontaneously disappearing into thin air or Death appearing and taking her back, but nothing happened. And for a blissful moment it was just the two of them.
“You’re doing so good”, she said when she looked him over once more. “I know this is hard for you, but you’re doing good.”
Harry knew he was supposed to say something, but couldn’t except for a few incoherent words, that seemed to make sense to his mother somehow. “I know”, she muttered and hugged him one last time, then they sat down on the couch next to the fire, not able to keep their eyes off each other.
“How?”, Harry asked the question that had bugged him for weeks now. “How does this… How can I do this? How are you here?”
His mother smiled warmly. “I only know bits of it, from what Merlin told me.”
“Merlin spoke to you?”, Harry interrupted her immediately and his mother laughed. “Yes, and let me tell you, he loves and hates you. The first thing he did when he got back to the realm of the death, was look for Slytherin and then rub it under his nose, that he was the one you called first – in Slytherin’s own chamber no less, which – let me just tell you – was genius. I think it actually bugged Slytherin”, she added after giving it a thought. “Maybe you should apologize. He could be a good ally to have.”
Harry’s brain was doing a rollercoaster ride. “Slytherin?”, he asked weakly and his mother smiled. “Right, that must be confusing. I haven’t really talked to him yet, but James said he’s actually all right. The founders reconciled in the afterlife and a lot of stuff has been passed down incorrectly, apparently. But Merlin knows him well, obviously, so he immediately told him. But I don’t think he liked you very much”, she gave him a thoughtful glance and Harry immediately felt the need to justify himself: “I was about to get rid of the deadly Basilisk under the school”, he said mildly angry in remembrance of the situation down there. “I’m sorry if that doesn’t sit right with him. Plus, he was a dick down there, constantly getting on my nerves –“
“Calm down, Harry”, his mother said amusedly. “I get it, he can be difficult. But I don’t think he was entirely wrong th-“, she stopped and blinked, her outlines started to flicker and Harry was put on standy-by immediately, jumping up and rushing over to her. “Mum! What’s wrong?”
For some reason, he was breathing heavily, as if Oliver had just forced a four-hour training session on him.
His mother was still smiling, a presence giving him a constant sense of calm despite what was happening. “Don’t worry”, she said. “I’ll be back when you call on me”, her form was starting to fade and Harry felt his heart pick up on pace, fear slowly etching into his bones. “Mum, no! Wait! I couldn’t – I wanted to –“
He made the mistake to blink once, and suddenly she was gone.
Harry stared at the spot on the couch she had just sat; There was nothing indicating there had been sitting a person there just a moment ago and he felt very lonely all of a sudden, wondering if he had just imagined it.
For a few moments he just sat there, staring at the empty spot on the couch with the fire crackling in the background. He didn’t know how long it took him to move, but he did eventually at some point, his legs feeling oddly like pudding. He didn’t know what this feeling was or how to describe it, but he felt weirdly… lonely. Which was strange, because he hadn’t really known his mum his whole life, so… Who was he kidding? Of course he missed her – had always missed - , but now that he actually got to talk to her, it was worse… Because now he knew what to miss of her.
««»»
After that day in the Room of Requirements, Harry closed himself off. His housemates didn’t seem to care at first, but after a whole week of Harry missing almost all of his classes and disappearing for the majority of the day, even the Slytherins were… probably not worried, but at least confused.
“What’s going on with you?”, Zabini asked when Harry came back to the dorms just past midnight. All the boys were sitting on their beds, staring at Harry judgingly. “What are you talking about?”, he asked gloomily. “You know what we’re talking about”, Goyle said, his eyebrows furrowed.
Harry ignored them and walked to his bed, pulling his pyjamas from under his blanket. He hasn’t actually worn them in two days, but the lack of sleep was starting to affect him and he had decided to take a nap before his next training session.
“Potter!”, Malfoy said, irritated. “I don’t know what has gotten into you, but your behaviour is showing Slytherin house in a bad light, so stop it!”
Harry kept ignoring him. He had no mind to put up with Malfoy of all people. But the boys were far more persistent than he had thought. When he was about to hop into bed, someone grabbed his shoulder from behind and Harry whirled around fast as a striking snake, throwing the attacker back with no more than a sharp motion of his hand.
Crabbe crashed against the opposing bed, groaning. Malfoy, Zabini, Goyle and Nott rushed towards him, to see if he was okay, and helped him up. Harry was staring at his own hand in wonder.
“What the hell, Potter!”, Malfoy now said, looking at him with an undefined mixture of emotions.
Harry’s gaze flickered towards Crabbe, who was standing between the other boys now, looking at him with fear.
“Harry?”, mimicked Crabbe. “What’s going on – no, Potter! Crucio!” – “So? I’m not killing him, am I?, yelled Crabbe. “But if I can, I will, the Dark Lord wants him dead anyway, what’s the dif –? A jet of scarlet light shot past Harry by inches; Hermione had run around the corner behind him and sent a Stunning Spell straight at Crabbe’s head. It only missed because Malfoy pulled him out of the way.
“It’s that Mudblood! Avada Kedavra!”
Harry hesitated for a moment, as the memories were swirling through his head of what would have become of the kids in front of him. But when he focused again, he saw nothing but their terrified faces and took a step back.
For an awful, eternal moment, no one said anything. And then Harry ran.
He bolted, running out of the dorm and down the stairs, throwing the doors to the dungeons open and running through the corridors as if possessed by a mad mind.
He wasn’t looking for professor or prefects or ghosts and it was only due to years of strolling around the castle at night, that he wasn’t seen by anyone but a few grumpy portraits.
Luckily, at this point his legs found the way to the Room of Requirements on their own and so he barely even noticed the doors opening themselves for him, and let himself fall to the ground, his knees giving away just in before he reached the comfortable couch.
His breath was going uneasily and he felt tears welling in his eyes. He curled in on himself, sobbing.
The fire crackled softly in the background, but none of the warmth reached him. Only when he heard footsteps approaching him, he felt a familiar, hot sensation of anticipation surge through him.
“Harry”, his father said softly, kneeling down next to him. “We have to talk.”
Harry felt his whole body shake – if with panic or the power he had just felt he didn’t know. “What’s happening to me?”