Friends?
Hermione and Ron:
I miss you guys. Billy and Jake say they miss you too, but I think Jake’s relieved to not have to fight over snacks with Ron anymore honestly. I hopeHogschool is going okay. I’m doing fine. High school is weird, but it’s fine and it keeps me busy. Tell your family I said hi. Tell Ginny that I’m happy she made captain and I hope she has better luck than I did.
-Harry.
September 3rd, 2003
Harry signed the letter to his friends, his head aching and his hand shaking as he carefully penciled out the reply to Hermione’s initial letter. Pencils and notebooks were just so bloody weird to use. Harry vaguely recalled how awkward quills had been to him in his first year at Hogwarts, but he had gotten used to them eventually. And he’d get used to pencils now as well.
Though, Harry eyed the unfinished stack of homework on his dining table with a hint of guilt, he may never get used to being so unbearably bad at school.
Sure he’d never been top of his year before, not like Hermione, but he’d never been ‘remedial’ either. Harry could now transfigure a pebble in to a pig with a lazy wave of his hand, but biology?? He’d never had the cause, or opportunity, to learn about it. And as a result, even in a grade behind where he should be, and in classes for students who were behind their peers, Harry was in the bottom of the class.
Not that he cared too much. Certainly not enough to give up his other habits in favor of studying. Habits like driving, wandering the forest in Forks, visiting the Black’s, and drinking.
Of course, sometimes those habits were wrecking havoc on his life. Such as now, when Harry saw that he had less than ten minutes before he was supposed to be in his first hour class, basic mathematics, and had to leap hastily to his feet. He snagged a black hooded jumper out of the hall closet, shoved his school belongings in his bag, and quickly jogged to his car. His first hour teacher had warned him that he would get a detention if he was late again, and Harry was pretty sure today would be the day he made good on that threat.
Unless Harry could drive his car fast enough to make it the ten miles to school and sprint to his class in the next...
Eight minutes.
He knew it was a futile attempt, but Harry pushed the gas pedal as hard down as he could, his hair flying in the wind from the open windows.
He told himself that he was only driving so fast to get to school on time, but truthfully Harry just liked the speed at which his car moved.
Harry sped past a stop sign, ignoring the red sign entirely, and felt his heart stutter when flashing lights behind him, red and blue, signaled that he’d been seen.
Damn.
Harry pressed the button on his door, the automatic window sliding down easily, as the police officer made his way to Harry’s window.
“License, registration, and proof of insurance,” the cop said curtly. Harry nodded, and thanked his lucky stars that Hermione was raised by muggles, as he handed over the documents that she had helped him obtain.
“You have any idea why I pulled you over?”
Harry chewed on his lip as he nodded. “I didn’t stop at the stop sign, sir,” he said quietly. “I’m sorry.”
The cop took off his dark sunglasses and narrowed his brown eyes at Harry.
“You’re that Potter boy, the new kid, right?” he glanced down at Harry’s license and nodded as he confirmed his own guess. “I thought so.” He stuck a hand in Harry’s window, “Chief Swan. We’re neighbors.”
“Nice to meet you,” Harry lied as he quickly shook his hand. It would be okay to meet his neighbor, if he wasn’t actively earning Harry a detention by his delay.
“Shouldn’t you be in school?” Chief Swan asked him.
“Yes sir,” Harry flushed as he checked the time and saw that his eight minutes had dwindled down to three. “I woke up late,” he said evasively.
Truthfully, Harry had stayed up all of last night, choosing coffee over nightmares, and had been in a stupor when his alarm went off. After he showered he had decided to write back to his friends instead of being on time to muggle school.
Never let his friends say he didn’t prioritize them.
“I’ll let you off with a warning this time,” Chief Swan told him. “But I’ve gotten more than one call about a red charger speeding through town, you need to slow it down son.”
“Yes sir,” Harry said. He wasn’t sure what happened after a warning, Hermione never fully explained ‘traffic laws’ to him, but he’d have to ask Jacob the next time he saw him. He needed to know if the punishment was worth the speed that made Harry feel so alive.
“Remind your parents that any ticket you get will make their premiums go up,” Chief Swan said as he handed Harry back his documents. Harry had no idea what most of that sentence meant though. Tickets? Premiums? He vaguely remembered his Uncle Vernon bellowing about his insurance premiums rising though, so he assumed it was related to the falsified insurance card Harry kept in the car.
And then Harry pushed away the thought of his Uncle Vernon as far out of his mind as he could.
’Ungrateful freak!’
“I live alone,” Harry said. “But I’ll keep that in mind sir.”
Chief Swan’s eyebrows rose at that information. Apparently the Forks gossip didn’t have all of its facts in order.
“Well... see that you do,” he said, his voice a shade warmer than it had been before. “Who do you have for first hour?”
“Mister Lee,” Harry told him.
“Aah, Jeffery.” Chief Swan clearly knew everyone in Forks rather well. “Tell him Charlie Swan made you late, he’ll understand.” The police chief gave Harry a joking wink as he walked away, leaving Harry confused and very, very, late.
Although, when Harry got to class and Mr Lee was scolding him in front of his classmates, Harry though perhaps he owed his neighbor a favor.
“Er... Charlie Swan told me to tell you that he made me late?” Harry stammered, embarrassed to be scolded in front of his classmates for something so stupid.
“Charlie said that?” Mr Lee squinted suspiciously at Harry for a moment before accepting it with a curt nod. “Fine. Last warning though Harry.”
Harry let out a relieved huff and made his way quickly to his desk. He ducked his head to avoid the frankly curious glances from his classmates-
Harry was always the odd man out.
Everywhere he went.
The freak in the cupboard beneath the stairs.
The Boy-Who-Lived.
Man Who Conquered.
The weird English kid.
-and focused on Mr Lee as he began the days lecture.
Another Monday in hell, joy.
Harry drug himself around his morning classes, his body protesting as much as his mind was. He wasn’t even sure why he was still here. Hermione would probably never know if he dropped out.
Probably.
But her ranting and worry might be worth it if it meant Harry didn’t have to keep showing up here. The students, initially so overtly friendly, had learned in the last couple of weeks that Harry was not as interested in them as they were him.
Not interested in their boring muggle lives with their simple problems and their theatrical responses to the most trivial things.
And because Harry had made no effort to befriend them, they had written him off. He was just that new kid with the weird accent who sat alone in classes and hid in his car during lunch.
In the deepest part of Harry’s heart, he wished he could fit in with these people.
But that was stupid. Because they were young, and happy, and eager to live their lives. Not like Harry.
Harry thought that he had lived seven life spans in his eighteen years and he had no desire to ‘plan for a future’ that he didn’t want.
So instead he isolated himself. Making sure nobody got too close to him.
Everyone close to him dies.
Lily. James. Cedric. Sirius. Dumbledore. Snape. Tonks. Remus. Fred. Colin.
Dead.
And it was fine.
Really.
Harry was hiding in his car once again, choosing to drink a can of some sort of nasty energy drink instead of trying to force down pizza that tasted vaguely like what he expected cardboard did. Not that the energy drink tasted much better, but Harry liked the buzz it sent through his system.
He also liked music. Unbearably loud music that prevented him from having any thoughts.
Hermione had been holding back on him about how great muggle music was.
Harry had his car radio as loud as it would go, which was very loud, and he closed his eyes as the caffeine in his drink coursed through his system.
He was humming along with the chorus of the heavy rock song when a tap on his window sent his heart racing and his hand flying for his wand.
The Elder Wand. The Death Stick. The Unbeatable Wand.
Buried in Dumbledore’s tomb.
Dumbledore’s body decaying as Harry replaced the wand in the bones that were once his hands.
“Harry?”
Harry rolled the window down, his gaze erratic as it flicked around the empty parking lot. Empty aside from Alice Cullen.
“Hey, Alice.” Harry turned the radio down and tried to sound calm, a facade he forced to hide his sweating palms and racing heart. “What’s up?”
“Aren’t you hungry?” Alice asked, her musical voice soothing and concerned.
“I’m fine.” Harry lifted his silver can up in a mock toast before he drained the rest of it. “It’s loud in there,” he offered as an excuse.
One that wasn’t entirely a lie.
“Hum.” Alice studied him closely, and Harry was once more impressed by her clear golden eyes and perfectly blemish free skin.
Truthfully, Harry had liked Alice very much when they first met. Her petite size, her airy personality, and the way her large eyes seemed to see more than any muggle all reminded him of Luna. He had been mildly disappointed that he didn’t share any classes with her or her siblings. The Cullens and the Hales seemed to be as universally ignored as Harry was at Forks High School, and he felt a kindred type of connection to them.
“You should sit with me at lunch tomorrow,” Alice said. “Pretty please?” Harry grimaced at Alice’s pink-lipped pout. How was he meant to turn down her invitation when she looked so eager for him to join her?
Especially when he had already thought once that if he had to interact with the muggles here, that the Cullen/Hale’s would be a tolerable place to start.
“Yeah, alright,” Harry shrugged.
“Yay!” Alice bounced on the balls of her feet and smiled brightly at Harry, who briefly wondered if her and her siblings were distantly related to a Veela, as unnaturally attractive as they all were. “Come on then, the bells about to ring. Get up and I’ll walk you to class!”
Harry was going to tell her it was still lunch break, but the bell rang right as he opened his mouth.
“Fine,” he huffed. “I can find my way to class by myself though.”
“Don’t friends walk each other to class?” Alice asked innocently as Harry slammed his car door shut behind him.
Harry looked at her and raised his brows.
“Are we friends?” he asked.
He thought the similarities between Alice and Luna grew quite a bit by the mysterious smile Alice gave him.
“We will be,” she said with confidence.
And despite himself, Harry believed her.
’Give me Harry Potter and none shall be harmed. Give me Harry Potter and I shall leave the school untouched. Give me Harry Potter and you will be rewarded.’
Why didn’t he give in?
Why did he try and fight fate?
He let those people die for him.
So many people. Dead. Because of Harry.
‘I didn’t want you to die. Any of you.’
‘The Boy-Who-Lived, come to die.’
‘Stay close to me.’
‘Until the end.’
‘AVADA KEDAVRA!’
Harry woke with a gasp. He had to kill the snake. Kill Voldemort. Save the others. He wasn’t done yet.
It wasn’t until Harry jerked out of his bed, desperate to be on his feet and alert, that the soft carpeted floor confused his mind enough to recognize his surroundings.
His dresser.
His pile of dirty clothes.
His stack of unread books.
His room.
His house.
“It’s done,” he told himself firmly. “You won.”
He didn’t feel much like a winner.
Harry checked the time and scoffed at the mere two hours he’d been asleep. He forced himself to lay down at two, and it was barely four o’clock now.
A drink. That’s what he needed. Harry hesitated in his kitchen though, his arm extended for the bottle, as he considered it. Was it a good idea to get drunk four hours before school started?
Probably not.
But when had Harry ever had good ideas?
“Never,” he answered himself, taking a deep drink of the brown liquor. He never had good ideas and that’s why he wasn’t a winner. He had lost. Lost more than anyone could imagine.
Friends.
Classmates.
The last link to his family.
His mortality.
And he’d lose the rest of his friends again one day.
Unless he found a way to beat them to the afterlife.
Harry toyed with that idea, considering it carefully as he had for months.
’As easy and painless as falling asleep.’
He should have taken the damn train.
“Fuckin’ Albus Dumbledore,” Harry grumbled to himself. He was slumped in his chair, well past sobriety, as he thought of his former Headmaster.
“Hallows not Horcruxes,” Harry snorted. “Bloody great idea.”
If you were cursed to live forever either way, what did it matter? Harry hadn’t technically meant to murder anyone on his unintentional quest to immortality, but it didn’t matter, did it? People died because of Harry. Good people.
’Oi! Angelina! Want to go to the ball with me?’
‘They’re very clean, these muggles. It’s unnatural.’
‘D'you think — would it be all right if — can I have a picture?... So I can prove I've met you. I know all about you.’
Colin was only sixteen when he snuck back to the castle, ready to fight beside the idol he’d had ever since beginning Hogwarts.
Harry was nobody’s idol.
He was just...
Just nobody.
And, when he threw the empty glass bottle at the wall and accidentally saw the clock he hung up, he realized he was a nobody who was either going to school drunk or skipping for the day.
Harry debated briefly. It would be amusing to show up completely pissed, just give those muggles something new to talk about him for. But... but he didn’t fancy having to see Chief Swan two days in a row, and that seemed like the sort of thing that would get the police involved.
So Harry slumped back down in his chair, a comfortable navy one that Ron picked out, he summoned another bottle and raised it in the air-
“To skipping!”
It was nearly dark outside, twilight setting over the landscape of fir trees setting them ablaze with the orange light, when Harry’s miserable, hungover, moping was interrupted by a loud knock.
“Go away,” Harry called, cradling his head in his hands.
He needed to quit drinking. He knew that, rationally. But then his head would spiral with the reminders of what he’s lost, what he’s done, who he is, and he’d head straight for the closest comfort he could find.
Which was liquor.
“It’s Jake!”
“Did I stutter?” Harry grumbled, begrudgingly going to open the door for... his friend? cousin?... Jacob.
“You look like shit,” Jacob grinned at Harry once he opened the door. Harry was sure that he did ‘look like shit’; it was hardly dinner time and he was already hungover after a fitful day of drinking and destroying his belongings. Still though. Harry was positive Molly Weasley would scold Jacob for saying it, so Harry glared on her behalf.
“Gee, thanks,” Harry rolled his eyes- mistake his head throbbed- and tried to angle his body to keep Jacob from seeing inside his house. “What do you want?”
“You’re in a lovely mood,” Jacob tried to mimic Harry’s accent, failing horrendously. Harry curled the side of his mouth up in a ghost of a grin for his efforts though.
“I’m sick,” Harry said. “What’s up?”
“Dad sent me with this-“ Jacob held up a styrofoam container that gave off the scent off something warm and homemade. “He thinks you’re starving to death alone in this house.”
“I’m fine,” Harry said. “Tell him we can’t all eat like hippog- hippos,” Harry caught himself at the last second.
As different as England was from the States, even Jacob would surely consider a hippogriff to be an odd name for an animal.
“I’m a growing boy,” Jacob laughed as he defended his appetite. “Come on then, aren’t you going to politely invite me in so I can give you this food just so you can throw it away after I leave?”
“The place is a mess,” Harry warned him. But he moved back enough for Jacob to come inside anyway.
“Jesus Harry, did you get robbed?” Jacob’s eyes were round as he took in the aftermath of Harry’s ‘episode’, as Hermione politely called his fits.
“Er... I...” Harry tried to think of an excuse for the way his sitting room was torn apart. “I lost a book,” he said lamely. Jacob sent a pointed look at the couch cushions where Harry had split them apart, certain they had been Death Eaters trying to kill Ginny.
“Riiiight,” Jacob said slowly. “Well... I actually had ulterior motives in coming here, besides feeding you.” He shook the styrofoam container invitingly, and Harry grabbed it with a roll of his eyes. He was a bit hungry, but Billy couldn’t have known that when he sent Jacob over.
“What motives are those?” Harry asked. He sat down at the bar top in the kitchen and looked inside the container. Fried chicken and mash. The greasy scent made Harry’s mouth water and his stomach churn; an odd combination he could ignore in favor of taking a few small bites.
“Me and my friends are having a bon fire this weekend.” Jacob sat next to Harry, watching with satisfaction as he consumed something other than the alcohol that he could smell on his breath. “Do you want to come?”
“Really?” Harry looked over at Jacob in surprise. “Why?”
“Why are we having a bon fire or why am I inviting you?”
“Why do you want me to come,” Harry clarified. “If it’s for you and your friends.”
“Harry,” Jacob shook his head at him with mock-disapproval. “You’re my friend too.”
Dear Harry,
School just isn’t the same without you. Though I am incredibly busy with my classes. Ron misses you, I won’t play chess to avoid homework like you will. I’m so proud of you for going to school. How are your classes? Tell me everything! Can we floo call this weekend? Headmaster McGonagall let’s the students use the floo’s as much as they want now. ‘Keeping us connected with our loved ones’ she said. Ginny said to tell you that the Slytherin game is the second weekend in October and she wants you to come cheer her on.
I understand if you can’t come though.
We all miss you.
Write me soon, at least tell me when I can floo you.
All my love,
-Hermione