Chapter 5
“But someone loved me, someone fucking loved me
Someone fucking loved me and I fuckin' loved them too
Goddamn it, I was worth something,
I fuckin' learned something
I had my cake (I ate it, it ate me too and, God, no.)"
-- Feel Better, Penelope Scott
..XoX..
When Harry overhears his peers talk about heartbreak and romance, the dreaded yet entirely realistic prospect of dying without ever having loved -- Harry gets it. Harry gets it because he is a writer and it is his job to get it, to put words to emotions and emotions to words. He writes heartbreak with metaphors and pretty synonyms about people that aren’t real and scenarios that didn’t happen so, yeah, Harry understands it.
That is not to say, however, that he relates to it.
Harry does not want a romantic lover. He is not worried about dying without one. He can see the appeal but, in his own words, he is just not the target audience for it.
Luna Lovegood speaks about it sometimes, in her letters. “I worry sometimes that the silence between us will never end. I worry that if you cannot or do not love me in the way I want to be loved -- in the way that most people want to be loved; with dignity and grace, flaws accepted and mistakes forgiven -- then I will free myself up to other possibilities… and find even them lacking.
“If love is not what I have cracked it up to be, then what is it?”
It’s nonsense. That’s Harry’s answer -- it’s nonsense and Harry does not want any part in it. Just as Harry does not want any part of Luna’s life, her rambling, her openness and honesty that Harry will not return nor does deserve.
He understands she shares these thoughts with him because she wants them to be friends. They do not have to be lovers. She is not asking for that. She’s not asking for anything. But she should. There’s no give or take here. An equilibrium should be in order.
Harry, though, is in no position to tell anyone how to live their lives -- least of all Luna Lovegood. So she can do whatever the fuck she wants, as far as Harry’s concerned.
While reading her letters, Harry can't help but take inspiration. In their past meetings together, she’s never expressed any interest in poetry or storytelling -- but it has been years. Perhaps that’s changed, for the simple letters Harry reads weekly are beautiful.
He steals phrases and words from them and slips them into his writing, whenever motivation sweeps him into its arms.
She pushes Harry’s perspective of love and moves it from a story concept into something tangible.
And it -- alongside, admittedly, thoughts of his mother and father who did not love him enough to accept him but did love each other, oh, very much so -- makes Harry reevaluate. Changing labels, even the prospect of it, is not a neat thing. It is messy and depressing but it is made easier, he supposes, by the fact that nothing outwardly will change with it. He is out to no one. Ergo, no one to be un-out to.
Harry’s idea of “reevaluate” is not as straightforward as other people’s might be. Harry’s idea of questioning his sexuality has little to do with those he might be attracted to and more to do with Harry himself.
He takes out his deck of tarot cards and puts a little bit of his magic into the shuffle. He places down three cards and sets the rest of the deck aside.
The first question he asks is, “Do I need love?” It is not an easy question to answer -- and he knows that, regardless of the card that he flips over, he will want the answer to be no. To love is to hurt. With pleasure comes pain and he’s had quite enough of the latter.
The answer is more complex than yes or no, though -- one of the reasons he loves tarot; it tells you what you need to hear, whether you want to hear it or not -- because the answer is The Empress. Upright.
She is a card usually associated with fertility, creativity, appreciation of beautiful things, an overall spring of good comings, good fortune -- but it is also associated with femininity, with motherhood. Nurturing.
Lily. Lily is and/or was a great mother. Wasn’t she? Harry does not like to linger on the good parts, mainly because the bad… in his eyes, is inexcusable. But now, compelled by the cards and compelled by himself, he thinks of those sacred moments with his head on her lap and her fingers running through his hair -- and the fact that they would accept him and love him even if he was gay, which is something that not many wizarding families can say. They listen and adapt to him and his emotions and they do not fight. The Potter house is a gentle one. A warm one. There are no screaming, furious arguments not perpetuated only by Harry himself. There are no holes punched in the wall. No slamming doors or explosive rage or breaking glass--
The Potter house is more than a house. At one point in time, it was a home.
At one point in time, because it’s not anymore. It’s torn at the edges, those memories, those sacred moments, because Lily and James decided that their success will be his, too. Over the summers, he casts charms so that when they try to talk to him, reach out to him -- and they are always trying, aren’t they -- Harry is unable to hear a word they say.
Harry Potter does not need Lily Potter -- not in his life, not in his heart.
But… that’s not really true, is it? Harry needs Lily in the way that most children need their mothers. As something instinctual and hard to ignore. He wants those soft moments on the couch again. He wants to hear his mother’s voice again. He wants it so bad it tears his heart apart. He is a child and, fuck you, he has a right to act like it, doesn’t he?
So that is what that first card is telling him. Do I need love? Oh, Harry. Of course you do. You will say you don’t but some things, Harry. Some things people just say.
For the next card, Harry asks, “Do I need her?” Do I need Luna Lovegood, who is good at embroidery and might be good at writing and sends me a letter, every week, even though I never send one back?
The card reveals itself to be Nine of Wands, upright. And that’s… largely associated with grit, isn’t that right? Grit and resilience, some sort of last stand.
Harry takes this as his decade long fight against Luna Lovegood, against the two sides of himself, ever at war. Against the part of him that wants a friend -- needs one, needs someone -- and the part of him that doesn’t need anybody. Grit and resilience means that the effort against Luna Lovegood… is a good one. Is a battle well fought.
That is of course if he takes the side of willing ignorance.
“Last stand” implies a lot of things. It implies that Harry’s heart has come upon a wall and now, now he has a choice. He can keep fighting. He can reject her and everything she stands for, everything he has made her stand for and sit at the base of that wall forever.Or he can climb the wall. He can realize that he’s fighting Luna Lovegood but when has Luna Lovegood ever fought him back?
His hatred of Luna is his last stand, because it’s a hill he will die on. It is a death he might regret.
Do I need Luna Lovegood? I don’t think it’s a matter of need -- you want her around even though, for all intents and purposes, she shouldn’t be. You would be devastated if she decided to stop sending letters. You would be devastated if she hated you like you hate her.
Can you hate someone you cherish so dearly? Harry thinks so. That’s half of his relationships. Maybe, though, Harry’s been kidding himself. He knows that relationships are three demonetional, complicated, and some are a vat of emotions too muddled to make out. He knows this. Maybe he’s been kidding himself by thinking he’s been applying that vita concept to his life, too.
For the third and final card, Harry doesn’t know how to voice his question. How do I fix me? Do I need fixing? What path should I take? Is this sustainable? Am I broken or bent or destroyed, beyond repair?
Harry does not know what he wants to ask, so he just flips the card and hopes it understands what he wants to know regardless.
Eight of Swords, reversed.
… Self-acceptance, new perspective. Freedom.
Love, for Harry, is not difficult to understand. But it is difficult to put into practice. With an all or nothing mindset that started with food and continued to everything else, gray areas are hard to come by.
Here, he is invited to take on a new perspective. It is not the kind of love he wanted to know about. Self love. Disgusting. Impossible. Unreachable. He is terrible. He is rude and snaps at people who don’t deserve it and published a novella that was used as motivation for people’s disordered eating -- he does not need a new perspective. The one he has now shows everything well enough; Harry Potter is not a good person. Harry Potter has no reason to like himself. To even accept himself.
But, maybe, he needs that gray area. He needs more than all or nothing. He has helped people, surely, as well as hurt. He was that Ravenclaw’s favorite author… probably before he told them to go to hell, though. Not all letters in response to Katherine's Portraits were so terrible.
The Eight of Swords, reversed, tells Harry that it is time to stop hating himself for his moments of terribleness -- because hating himself, for the record, has never stopped him from being terrible.
Of course, Harry thinks, putting the three cards back into the deck, this is easier said than done.
All in all, he leaves the session sure of many things and conflicted about more. He is also sure that he is aromantic, asexual.
The cards all related -- or he made them relate -- to aspects of love outside of the romantic ones. It is a sign, he supposes. There is nothing left to question in that department.
But in others, he stays haunted. He slouches over Tom’s journal and writes and rewrites his first letter to Luna Lovegood. It is a difficult task, to say the least.
Luna,
I’m sorryNo. He’s not ready to apologize yet. Or maybe he’s just not ready for such an intense conversation right now. Not yet.
Are you a writer now? We both know that’s my specialty Harry scribbles that line out hard. He means it as a joke but what if she doesn’t take it as one? They are not very well on friendly terms.
You are rather bad at this, remarks Tom.
No shit, writes Harry.
I can give you some tips. You do need them, says Tom, both unkind and not untrue.
No. Let me work this out on my own. Writing’s a process. You’ve got to trust the process.
Tom does not respond and Harry continues trying to write the letter once more:
Your Ravenclaw peers miss you. Does that include himself? No? Yes? Maybe? No. But it is kinder to let her take it as she will. I know that Drumstrang has less restrictions on their uniforms than Hogwarts did. I was wondering if you’d ever thought of embroidering your uniform? You’d make it look good, I think, if you’re still into that.
Talking about her is easier than talking about himself. He does that, too, though. I became certain recently that I’m aromantic and asexual. This is an invitation, in a way. It’s telling her that she may find love elsewhere. It’s telling her that he still does not want to get married.
It is also the first time Harry has ever “came out” to anyone, so to speak. It feels good. And bad. And like nothing at all.
Hogwarts kids are split on their Drumstrang opinions -- mainly because of their rumored Dark Arts curriculum. I’m not one to care, though. I’ve got my thumbs in my fair share of Dark Arts pies, too.
Harry, warns Tom.
Oh, shut it, writes Harry. I won’t spill your dirty little secret. Just let me do this.
To his credit, Tom does.
The Triwizard Tournament is coming up. I’ve left my name in the drawing. I was wondering if you did as well. It would be awful to have to compete with you. This.. this, honestly, is a little vindictive to leave in. Nothing is explicitly stated but Harry’s sure that Luna is a little bit like him; rather skilled at reading in between the lines. It says, I do not want to see you. If you end up at Hogwarts for this, I will not hesitate to make my displeasure known.
You asked what love is if it isn’t what you’ve built it up to be. It is the backdrop of a really good book; it is the rightful subject of countless poems; it is nonsense; it is hard to come by; it is hard to let go. Love is whatever you want it to be, Luna. If it is not what you’ve built it up to be, then keep building.
Rewording his earlier statement, he finishes with I read your letters weekly. They’re very craftily worded. Are you a writer? You should be. You’d be good at that, too.
Cheers,
Harry.
It is too gloomy? Too much? Too little? It’s hardly an impressive first step. But Harry sends it anyway, because it is, at least, a first step.
On his way to the owlery, Harry feels someone’s eyes on him. He tenses, wand out, because someone following this late of the hour is never a good sign, only when he turns around, there is no one there.
..xox..
Harry is sometimes rude to those who did nothing wrong, a byproduct of his messy mental state and inability to regulate his emotions in a healthy manner -- but, sometimes, Harry is rude because people deserve it.
Three years ago, an organization known as the Butterflies contacted Harry. It was not a pleasant first impression, the misguided fawning over his work, the mysterious gift with no return address.
Harry had wanted to…
Well. He had wanted to do a lot of things. Like curl up and die and drown in the guilt of becoming somehow akin to these people. Like report them and bring a sense of justice back into the world. The latter of which was impossible -- because all he had was a crest to go off of. No names, no numbers. And, of course, no return address.
If he had been rude, they would deserve it. If he is rude now, would the sentiment still stand?
In harry’s humble opinion, there is no statute of limitations on the punishment for a crime in which the crime’s aftereffects has none, either. Wracked with guilt and confusion, his eating disorder at an all time high and mental state at an all time low -- his second year is a blur to him now, but then it was miserable. Partly it was his own fault. Partly it was the flood of letters tearing his work to shreds and making a caricature of it from paper mache.
That summer, with his parents essentially on mute, he retreats to the Potter library instead of his room. He grabs Lily’s editions of Crests & Who and/or What They Represent and scousers it until he can put an image to a word and puts a name to his tormentors.
The Butterflies. It is an organization established in 1977, originally an Austrian establishment but now a British one. This much Harry finds from hours upon hours spent in the book stacks. Beyond this, though, not much is known.
For three years, Harry has intermittently hated them and hated himself in equal quantities. He has never forgotten. He thinks he never will.
So Harry’s brilliant plan is more vengeful than brilliant. He wants to steal the magic from whoever runs the Butterflies. He wants to think that he’s had to suffer, and now they have, too.
In all honesty, it wouldn’t be a fair trade. To blame one person to the acts of what must have been hundreds is obscene.
But feelings are beyond thought, reason, and, in this plan, sanity.
Tom, Harry asks one evening, have you ever heard of an organization called the Butterflies? They’re eating disorder based. Real fucked group of people. Butterfly crest.
I’m afraid they must be beyond my time.
Damn, says Harry. I’d have thought you might’ve been there for their origin story but… I guess not.
What do you want to know about them?
I wanna find their CEO. Send you to them. But nothing about them is public knowledge and it’s frustrating.
Perhaps I can help figure out where to look. Or who. Describe them.
Harry sums up the incident in second year and, halfway through, Tom interrupts. Oh. Yes, that’s a cult.
Huh, say Harry. That makes sense. I guess.
Lucky thing, though, I happen to know a lot about cults.
Really worried about why that is,
Don’t be. My first suggestion is to look for the outliner. Cult leaders are often fond of attention. They will inevitably slip up. They will do something to stick out.
… Harry has an idea about who that might be. And once I’ve located them?
Do you still have the letter they sent you?
Yeah.
Good. It would be quite problematic if you didn’t. Give it to an owl. Tell them to send this back to its owner and set a tracking charm. If it fails to do this, I suggest getting a more intelligent owl. From there, you’ll have coordinates. Plop those on a map. If the Butterflies have no footprint, it means that they are being funded and housed through someone or something else’s finances. On those coordinates, you’ll likely find some property not owned by the Butterflies. You will want to doubt yourself. I implore you not to. Whoever owns the property -- that’s your fellow. That’s your lead. And likely, your leader, or someone who would know them. Got it?
Yeah… He is impressed and terrified. That’s probably how most people feel around Voldemort, though. He wants to ask why Tom is being so helpful. But that is a rude way to say thank you. I appreciate this.
Of course,Harry, writes Tom. Anytime.
..XoX..
“I know you;
I hope not
I love you;
Will you rot?
That is my mantra,
A silly silicon tantrum
Breathing only smoke and sickness
From sins I did bear witness
For all the children hurt
Here, I leave my bridges burnt.”
-- Harry Potter, “Judgment.”