“End of Duty.”
Christmas dinner at Sirius’ was a mess and Harry loved every moment of it.
Sirius, daft idiot that he was, had tried to cook a turkey for dinner and when everyone arrived in his flat, it still smelled like smoke.
Strange - who oddly insisted that Harry call him ‘Stephen’ outside of tutoring sessions - said he had foreseen Sirius ruining the meal beforehand and ordered an outrageous amount of Chinese food to be served buffet style instead.
“It doesn’t take the Eye of Agamotto to know that Sirius would ruin dinner,” Harry murmured to Ron when Ron helped make Harry’s plate in exchange for Harry telling him which meats were spicy. “Sirius can’t bloody cook to save his life.”
“What’s that, oh, darling godson?” Sirius called from the table that he and the twins were working on magically doubling in size. Sirius looked up and winked at Harry. “Sorry my family had a house-elf to cook meals for me instead of mistaking me for one.”
Hermione gasped, looking shocked at Sirius’ jest, but Harry smirked, missing Sirius’ sharp wit recently.
“Oh, boo,” Harry whined sarcastically. “Next thing you know you’ll be complaining about your parents using magic instead of belts and frying pans.”
“Are we playing who had the worst parents?” Psycho added as she moved chairs to new spots at the table as George replicated them. “Quit now, gentlemen, because I will win.”
“Mm, I don’t know, I’ve got a strong case,” Bruce said thoughtfully.
Harry rolled his eyes when Tony and Stephen both raised glasses and added their two cents in.
“It’s Christmas, not group therapy,” Harry told them all waspishly. “And I lived in a closet, so I win.”
“For your prize…” Peter had Harry’s new kitten on the table and he drummed his fingers on the table around her dramatically. “A lifetime of therapy!”
That was fine, Harry liked his therapist anyway. For a nosy bloke who asked a lot of questions, he did occasionally have good advice.
Everyone was rowdy during dinner- swapping jokes, showing off things they received for Christmas, and trading around dishes that they liked and disliked. Harry felt the lightest he ever had, wondering if it was how everyone felt on holidays with their family. He even felt a little charitable toward Psycho when she got drawn in a conversation with Luna about… martial arts, for some reason.
Ginny’s girlfriend was odd.
Dinner was already winding down when Harry’s subtle reminder to take his medicine flashed on his phone. Fred and Pietro already left to go fly together. George was trying to convince Sirius or Stephen to match Harry’s investment in the joke shop they hoped to open in the summer. Ron was mocking the Hogwarts professors with Tony for Pepper’s amusement. Ginny was chatting with Clint, Hermione with Bruce, and Luna with Psycho. Peter kept pausing in photographing everyone to pet the tiny little three-legged kitten on Harry’s lap.
“I’ll be back,” Harry told no one in particular after getting the notification. “Going to the loo,” he lied when a few people glanced toward him. Tony looked significantly at the watch on his wrist and Harry nodded subtly, grateful not to be reminded about his medicine in front of everyone like a child.
Instead of using the lifts (and as a way to irritate Hermione as she found sorcery to be a confusing and ‘imprecise branch of magic’), Harry backed up from the table and then carefully opened a portal so he could wheel directly through it to his bedroom.
“I hate him,” Hermione grumbled when Harry disappeared. “Show off.”
“That’s my student,” Stephen said proudly.
After taking his medicine, Harry truly did need the loo and it was much easier to use the one in his bedroom than Sirius ‘Harry-incapable’ bathroom at his flat. It was only when he re-entered his bedroom that a flash of silver caught his attention.
It was Anderson’s gift on Harry’s nightstand and Harry felt guilty for not being able to give him his until Saturday at the next meeting. Harry and Tony had picked out a variety of gift cards for each of the vets, most of them to the fast food places they all seemed to liked.
Harry got Anderson something extra, a thank you for driving Harry mad. It wasn’t terribly special, just a sunny yellow mug that said ‘I’m a fucking ray of sunshine’, but Harry thought Anderson would like it.
More to be lazy than anything, Harry opened a portal just above his kitten’s head and reached through it to snag the gift from his table, curious at what Anderson hand-delivered to him.
Anderson told him to open it when he wasn’t busy, so Harry figured it wasn’t something horribly inappropriate or embarrassing. Harry carefully unwrapped the paper, letting the kitten begin shredding the paper with her tiny claws, and saw that it was a small jewelry box…
Which was bloody odd coming from Anderson.
Harry popped the top off and found a silver necklace lying on top of a sheet of paper that was folded up small. When he lifted the necklace, Harry frowned to see that it was Anderson’s military necklace that all the vets at the VA wore. There was only one of the tags on the chain, the other one missing.
Stamped across the front of it was:
Anderson, Taylor B.
9913678152
A Pos.
No Preference
Harry felt his stomach clench uncomfortably and his fingers shook with hesitation he didn’t understand as he pulled out the note and unfolded it to read.
Harry,
Hey, Merry Christmas. I’m sorry I’m about to ruin it.
Harry held the letter in one hand and shoved his other fist in his mouth to keep from making a sound while he read.
I wanted to tell you thanks for everything you’ve done for me, man. I don’t mean the leg your dad built or the food for the meetings, I mean the things you’ve done for me. You inspired me, Harry. You got this whole shit world handed to you and you just said ‘fuck it, I’m still going’.
You’re a better man than I am.
I’m not going to bore you with the story of another kid born to parents who didn’t give a fuck who ran off to join the army and found disability and depression instead of the purpose he wanted. I can blame my bullshit on everyone else, or I can say that some people just weren’t meant to live long lives.
Do me a favor? Keep going to meetings, your cheerful face will keep the others from trying to do something stupid like following me.
And for the love of God, Harry, get a new damned leg. Your dad is Tony fucking Stark, you could have a leg so filled with weapons that the next time someone tries to kidnap your ass you just blast them to bits.
I’ll miss you man,
I’m proud of you,
-Anderson
Harry’s fist was the only thing that kept him from openly sobbing as he took the quickest route from his room to Anderson’s shitty apartment not far from the VA, via portal.
“Anderson…”
Harry clutched the arm of his wheelchair and let the sobs he’d been repressing wrack through his body. Harry had appeared just where he meant to in Anderson’s living room… directly beneath where Anderson’s body swayed from the ceiling fan, a rope around his neck, his once handsome face colorless and lax.
It was all Harry could do to wave his hand, the magic coming to him easily, and sever the rope and guide Anderson to float to the couch.
And when Anderson’s eyelids didn’t flutter, his chest didn’t move, Harry couldn’t look at his empty face and not see Cedric.
“Why…?” Harry cried. Harry looked at his friend who wasn’t killed by any evil madman, but by his own two hands.
“DAMN YOU, ANDERSON!” Harry screamed, his vision blurring and his throat tearing. “WHY?!”
Harry was numb when he called his dad, he didn’t even remember dialing the number. All Harry knew was that one moment he was in his chair, staring across the room at the dead body of his friend, and the next Harry was knelt beside the couch, holding Anderson’s cold hand, and crying as if his heart had been shattered.
Anderson was a prat- he was annoying and immature, he pushed Harry until Harry felt like his body was going to break -and Harry had idolized him and respected him in equal amounts.
“Kid… oh, fuck…”
Someone, Tony, probably, lifted Harry from where he was knelt in front of Anderson and carried him away even while Harry screamed and thrashed, trying to stay by Anderson like he should have sooner.
There were conversations happening, voices shouting and someone giving orders, but Harry curled his face in the crook of Tony’s neck and wept until he must have passed out.
Harry woke up in his room, Hermione on one side of him, Ron on her other side, and Peter half-underneath Harry with his arms wrapped around Harry.
Hermione was awake, her big brown eyes were blinking sorrowfully at Harry.
“Harry…”
Harry looked away from her, staring up at the ceiling instead, and hated the way his chest felt crushed beneath the wave of grief when he remembered what happened.
“He’s gone, Hermione,” Harry said, his voice shaking. “Anderson, he’s… he’s gone.”
“I know.” Hermione put her hand on Harry’s cheek softly. “It wasn’t your fault, Harry.”
Harry tried to scoff, tried to sound as angry on the outside as he was on the inside.
“No, it wasn’t my fault,” Harry agreed. His voice rose in fury, waking Ron and Peter both. “It wasn’t my fault, it was fucking Anderson! Anderson couldn’t just- he couldn’t call me? TEXT ME?! HE CAN SEND ME BULLSHIT EVERY MORNING ABOUT DICKS AND VAGINAS AND CAN’T SAY ‘I NEED TO TALK’?!”
Something shattered in Harry’s room, a window if he had to guess, and Harry saw Hedwig screech before taking off across the room.
“Harry, he probably—”
“I DONT GIVE A DAMN WHAT HE PROBABLY THOUGHT!” Harry yelled. He pushed himself in a seated position and clenched his fists to keep his hands from shaking while he glared harshly at Hermione. “LIVING WAS TOO HARD? JOIN THE QUEUE, MATE! THE REST OF US ARE FIGURING IT OUT! WHY COULDN’T HE?” Harry’s voice broke and his face crumpled. “Why couldn’t he?”
Harry’s friends threw themselves on Harry, all three of them managing to hold him when Harry fell forward, his chest aching with grief. Harry clutched to whoever he could, needing them to steady him.
“Why couldn’t he?” Harry cried. “Why couldn’t he?”
Joey whined and joined the rest of them on Harry’s bed, pushing and shoving until he had his head in Harry’s lap, whining unhappily while Harry cried. It was maddening, knowing that Anderson didn’t have to have his life cut so short.
Pepper brought Harry his medicine, a dreamless sleep mixed in the bunch, with lunch. Harry debated on taking the potion, sleeping peacefully without the reminder of his friend’s body dangling from a ceiling fan, but he didn’t.
Harry kicked his friends out so he could shower and rolled his eyes when Hermione firmly planted herself on his bed with one of the new books from Sirius.
“I’m not going to drown myself in the shower,” Harry said as he gathered clean clothes. He meant to drawl it, show his annoyance, but his voice was raspy from how much he’d been crying so it didn’t come out as sarcastic as he wanted.
“I’m sure,” Hermione said idly, feigning like she wasn’t watching Harry from the corner of her eye. “It’s quieter in your room, I can’t read around all the noise.”
Harry rolled his eyes again, but then ignored Hermione to go shower.
When he returned from the shower and Hermione was still there, she huffed quietly at Harry’s swollen eyes and waited for him to wheel over to his bed.
“You cared quite a bit for him, didn’t you?” Hermione asked, eyeing the chain Harry swore to never take off.
Harry shrugged and toyed with the tag, feeling a bit driven to talk to Hermione at least. Hermione had been there all through fourth year when Harry had some of the hardest times of his life, and she’d been the one more than once to bring a cup of hot chocolate to the Astronomy Tower and convince Harry to go inside.
“Anderson was a git, but he was a good bloke,” Harry said, his eyes on his lap. “I just… I don’t understand why he did it,” he said, looking up at Hermione helplessly. “The VA has counselors and he just got his leg replaced, I don’t- I don’t get it.”
Hermione moved Harry’s kitten from her lap and slid to her knees in front of Harry. She took both of his hands in hers and squeezed them while she looked at him with earnest eyes.
“He probably felt hopeless, like he’d never be cheerful again,” Hermione said softly. “He might have been scared and worried that if he told anyone how he felt that they wouldn’t care. I bet he felt rather alone and didn’t think about all the people who loved him. And… and maybe he didn’t realize how loved he was.”
Harry sniffled and felt uncomfortable as Hermione’s words resonated inside him. He lifted their joined hands so he could use the back of his own hand to wipe off his cheek.
“We would have talked to him,” Harry insisted. “I would have or Wilson or any of the others. He said… he said he’d see me next week, Hermione. He lied, right to my face.”
Hermione nodded understandingly.
“Do you remember the night after Halloween last year?” Hermione asked. “I was nagging you about your charms essay and you were glaring at Ron while he played chess with Seamus?”
Harry shrugged, he remembered it vaguely. Not as well as Hermione did, apparently.
“You said you needed some air and told me that you’d be back in an hour, you were going for a walk,” Hermione said smartly. Harry’s heart flipped in his chest as he did suddenly remember that night…
It had been a bad one, one Harry wasn’t proud to remember.
“When I went to find you, where were you?” Hermione asked before answering herself. “Sitting on the ledge of the tower. Harry, I…” Hermione swallowed hard and shook her head, flooding Harry with guilt. “Harry, I’ve never been so scared before,” she whispered. “You were looking down at the ground as if it was the most beautiful thing you had ever seen… and it took me ten minutes before you even responded to my voice.”
“I’m sorry,” Harry said, truly hating that he put Hermione through that. “Hermione, I’m so sorry.”
“You don’t need to apologize,” Hermione said. She was the one who sniffled then and Harry was quick to wipe the stray tear off her cheek. She gave him a shaky smile and squeezed their hands. “It’s just… I imagine you were in a terrible amount of pain, just like your friend, and weren’t able to see that there were people who loved you who would talk with you.”
Harry pulled Hermione in for a hug, grateful to have always had her there for him.
“Just for that, I’m going to sneak you in Dad’s lab,” Harry said, mildly choked up. “But you have to use a portal.”
Hermione laughed and pulled away from Harry to give him a true smile.
“Let me use your cloak and it’s a deal, Harry.”
Tony and Pepper were the only ones in the sitting room when Harry slipped from his bedroom after sneaking Hermione away to the lab.
“Hey, kid.” Tony was on his feet in an instant, his hands fidgeting at his sides. “How ya feeling?”
“Brilliant,” Harry said drily. “And you?”
“We’re sad,” Pepper said, knocking the sarcasm from Harry. “And worried about you.”
“I’m… fine,” Harry hedged. “I was going to go check on Sirius actually… he’s a baby, you know, very emotional.”
And talking about towers and death with Hermione had given Harry to urge to see Sirius, ensure that he was safe.
“Are you using the elevator or portal?” Tony asked Harry. He was clearly trying to grin, but it looked painful on his face.
“Portal, obviously,” Harry told him, adding a roll of his eyes to try and lighten the mood. Harry held up the kitten he had on his lap and bobbed her head playfully. “Tripod likes portals, don’t you, baby? Yes you do.”
Harry opened a portal and wheeled through it, leaving Tony to collapse on the sofa beside Pepper again.
“Did he just say he named the three-legged cat ‘Tripod’?” Tony asked.
Pepper laid her head on Tony’s shoulder and hummed. “That’s your son.”
Sirius was sitting at the kitchen counter when Harry let himself in the living room, drinking.
“Too good for the lifts now?” Sirius asked flatly. Harry frowned to see that Sirius looked miserable; his eyes were swollen and it was as if he was the one who lost a friend the night before.
“Snape always said I was arrogant,” Harry shrugged. “Why are you drinking at one in the afternoon?”
“Because I’m worthless,” Sirius said. He looked down in the glass he had half-filled with some sort of liquor and sighed heavily. “I’m sorry I wasn’t there for you, Harry. I should have been.”
Harry was rather caught off-guard by Sirius’ morose thoughts and obvious drunkenness.
“I, quite grandly, forgive you,” Harry said. He pushed himself over to the counter where Sirius sat and grimaced at the nearly empty bottle that Sirius had been refilling his glass with.
“Did I ever tell you about my brother?” Sirius asked abruptly. Harry shook his head, he’d always assumed Sirius was an only child.
“You remind me a bit of him,” Sirius said with a sad smile. “His name was Regulus. He was a Slytherin, one year behind me.”
Harry caught the distinct ‘was’ in that statement.
“Reg was a seeker, bloody good one too,” Sirius went on, blind to Harry’s discomfort. “He drove James mad, always kicking our arses in quidditch. And Reg was an artist too, when- when we were kids he used to talk about making portraits one day.”
“What happened?” Harry asked after Sirius drifted off into silence. Sirius threw down the rest of his drink and laughed bitterly.
“The brat went and took the Dark Mark, joined the rest of the Black’s in the age old tradition of following Voldemort.” Sirius refilled his glass and sighed. “And then you know what he did?” Sirius blinked slowly at Harry, alarming Harry with the tears filling his eyes.
“He snuck off and tried to destroy one of Voldemort’s horcruxes,” Sirius said. “He died. He knew he would die and he did it anyway. Isn’t- isn’t that the most Gryffindor thing you’ve ever heard?”
“I suppose so,” Harry agreed quietly. Sirius nodded as if Harry was as vehement in his conviction as Sirius was.
“To Reg and Anderson and all the rest,” Sirius said, raising his glass high. “To everyone we couldn’t save.”
Harry went from mildly alarmed to completely panicked when Sirius finished the drink and then dropped his head on his arms and began sobbing. Since Harry was ill-equipped to deal with Sirius’ breakdown, he sent a message to Stephen.
Are you shagging my godfather?
Yes, this is an appropriate text to receive from my 15yo student.
Sirius is having a bad day and I think he could use someone who knows what to do with him…
It didn’t take long for Stephen to appear through his own portal, dressed casually aside from his ever-present red cape.
It took even less time for Harry to leave, taking Tripod with him, to go busy himself with his friends and avoid dealing with anyone’s emotions, including his own.
On the day of Anderson’s funeral, Harry walked in the VA with his forearm crutches, refusing to use his wheelchair for the event. Tony was with Harry, also dressed up in a respectful black suit. Harry’s friends offered to go with them, but Harry shut them down.
Much like Harry knew he had to use his crutches for the funeral, he also knew it was something he needed to do with just his dad.
The other vets from their group were all there, all in their uniforms and looking as devastated as Harry felt. The gymnasium of the center had been completely altered and was filled with more military personnel than Harry had ever seen in one place before.
“Hey, kid.” Wilson and a few of the others, Godwin with her metal arms and her daughter sleeping against her chest, Greene in his chair, looking shocked, and Lawrence who walked with his head high and his right leg replaced with a prosthetic.
“How you holding up?” Wilson asked Harry after patting him on the shoulder.
“Crappy,” Harry said hoarsely. He looked around again at all the people that were beginning to file in chairs. “All these people came for Anderson?”
“Hell yeah, brother,” Greene said quietly. He was looking down at his lap, all of his usual cheeky cheer completely gone. “Everyone always shows up when you’re dead.”
Harry flinched and Tony bid the others a quick farewell and led Harry to a seat close enough to the front where Harry could hear without getting too close to the large black coffin that was buried beneath a flag and dozens of bouquets of flowers.
“You doing alright?” Tony murmured when they sat down. Harry nodded even though he felt sick knowing that Anderson’s body was inside of it.
“I’m sad,” Harry said quietly. He looked around and thought he might hate all the soldiers that were taking their seats, the ones standing silently up front in a row. Greene was right, they didn’t show up until Anderson was dead. Where were they when he was struggling? When he couldn’t find a point in going on with his life? Why show up when it was too late to help?
“Yeah, I figured that one.” Tony put his arm around Harry’s shoulders and let Harry shift closer to him, leaning on one of the few people that had stuck by Harry when he’d been the one struggling.
When Harry jumped, Tony caught him.
Anderson had no one to catch him before he fell.
Harry sat up as straight as any of the others and stayed quiet through the ceremony. They had the VA’s chaplain eulogize Anderson - he had a little brother that died when they were kids, two parents that didn’t show up, a girlfriend who cried up front with Booker - and then asked if anyone had anything they’d like to say.
Godwin handed her daughter over to Mendez before standing up and stepping to the stage in the smart and sharp steps that Harry was beginning to recognize from all the vets.
“We are here today to honor Specialist Taylor Anderson,” she said at the pulpit, her voice filling the gym. “I met Anderson through the group that we started here.” She looked from where the others from their group sat together and then over to where Harry and Tony sat a couple of rows away.
“Anderson was a pain in the ass,” she said, garnering a few weak smiles from the people who actually knew him. “He had a filthy mouth, a dirtier mind, and cheated at cards.” Godwin’s humor died and she became solemn.
“Anderson was also another good man who took on the age old fight against PTSD, and this time PTSD won. There isn’t a single one of us in this room who haven’t been in Anderson’s boots at least once.” Godwin paused and looked around again before nodding curtly. “Anderson was a good friend, a good soldier, and his loss is felt by every one of us.”
Godwin turned on her heels and faced Anderson’s coffin for a long moment before raising her shining metal right hand to her forehead
“Specialist Anderson, end of duty,” she said as she snapped her hand out in a salute.
Harry cried silently when two uniformed soldiers folded up the flag on Anderson’s coffin and presented it to Wilson, who presented it to Anderson’s girlfriend as the only person anything like family in attendance. It was six soldiers Harry didn’t recognize who carried the coffin from the gym to the car that waited out front, though the vets in Harry’s group were the first to follow them out, nodding for Harry to join them.
They all fell in a line behind the hearse and Harry stared through blurry eyes at the coffin while the others saluted once again.
The others began filling in their cars that made up the ‘procession’ behind the hearse and Harry knew that he didn’t have the mental strength to go stand in a cemetery and watch his friend be dropped in the ground.
“You not comin’?” Lawrence asked when Harry stepped to the side with Tony, neither of them going to Tony’s car until the others left.
“No.” Harry’s arms were already shaking with the strain of using the crutches so much in a single day. If he had to go stand around tombstones and see the coffin be lowered, then Harry’s tentative grasp on sanity would shatter.
“We’ll see you Saturday though, right?” Simmons asked.
Harry didn’t have to think about that, “Yeah. I’ll see you guys Saturday.”
The others nodded at Harry when they left, none of them pressuring him to go watch the burial. Tony waited until the surprisingly long procession of cars pulled out of the lot before gently pushing Harry down to a bench just outside the entrance.
“I’ll pull the car around,” Tony said, his voice rough. “Hey,” Tony waited until Harry looked up at him with teary eyes, “I’m proud of you, kid. I’ll be right back and then we can go home.”
Harry nodded gratefully and then laid his crutches beside him on the bench so he could rest his elbows on his knees and cradle his head in his hands.
It hurt to lose Anderson, it hurt in a sharp and agonizing way, but it hurt worse to picture himself in Anderson’s place…
Harry once thought that there was no point in life, no point in forcing himself to muddle through the days that did nothing but bring him unhappiness… Harry felt the same crushing hopelessness that Anderson must have felt all those times he’d sat on the edge of the Astronomy Tower, wishing for a strong breeze to knock him down… Harry felt it again when he’d accidentally apparated himself to the top of a building and then leaped off it…
When Tony came back from pulling the car around, Harry looked up at his dad and felt his lower lip quivering.
“I’m sorry,” Harry told him, a single traitorous tear breaking free.
Tony handed Harry his crutches and looked quizzically at him. “What for?”
“I did jump,” Harry said, admitting it to himself as well as his dad. “I jumped that night and I’m sorry.”
Harry was so damned sorry. If Tony didn’t catch Harry, then it would have been Tony and Sirius, Pepper and Peter, Ron and Hermione at his funeral.
If Harry hadn’t been caught, he would have put all the people he loved through the same gut-wrenching pain that Anderson put Harry and their other friends through.
Tony helped Harry get to his foot and pulled him in a warm embrace.
“Thank you for catching me,” Harry mumbled in Tony’s shoulder.
“I always will,” Tony said gruffly while Harry held him tightly, unbearably grateful to have been caught. They stood there together for a long moment, both of them just holding the other one. Eventually, when Harry’s leg shook with strained muscles, Tony guided Harry to the car and helped him slide in the passenger seat.
“Where to?” Tony asked, hiding red-rimmed eyes behind mirrored sunglasses.
Harry glanced at the doors of the VA, imagining Anderson the last time he saw him… a cocky grin on his face, a playful salute, and taunts spilling from his lips…
Anderson would never again walk through those doors- not with crutches, not with the new leg that they buried with him. Harry knew that he would though, every Saturday morning for as long as he could.
“Home,” Harry told his dad, wiping his cheeks off with his suit sleeve. He looked away from the VA and out the front windshield. “Let’s go home.”