Harry fled up to his room and threw the Invisibility Cloak over himself. He lay on his bed, sobbing into the crook of his arm. For how long, he wasn't sure.
"Harry." Someone who most likely had a death wish was banging on his door. "Harry."
"Bugger off," he mumbled, too tired to do anything more.
"I'm coming in, Harry. Alohamora." Remus Lupin waved his wand over the lock of the bolted door. "Harry?"
Looking around, he could only hear small sniffling noises. He knew Harry must be using James' old cloak. Like a blind man, Remus held out his hands and tugged when he felt the fabric.
The first thing that came to him was how thin Harry had grown in the past week. He was extremely shocked to see the plates of food Molly had sent up were piling next to the bed with a few rats sleeping peacefully beside or on them.
"Merlin, Harry." Harry looked up at him with the gaunt face of a boy who has seen too much destruction in his life. "Professor, if you don't mind, I'm really not up to talking."
Remus vanished the plates (and their residents) and thouroughly 'Scourgify'-ed the room until even Mrs. Weasley would be proud of it. "I do mind, Harry. There are people downstairs who care about you and you're up here starving yourself and letting them down."
This made Harry very angry. "Well, pardon me. I didn't mean to let anyone down. It's kind of hard to be thinking about that when the fate of the wizarding world rests on your shoulders. You know, the whole prophesy thing, Neither can live while the other survives and all that."
Harry turned his back on his former professor and faced the large Chudley Cannons poster. "Just go."
"No." Remus sat on the end of the bed and took a few deep breaths, trying to arrange what he had to say.
"They know about the prophesy, Harry. They know, and they have known, but now they know you know and that changes everything. Attacking your parents' house is not going to be the worst thing that will happen. Those Death Eaters think that if they can crush your spirit first, then Voldemort will reign in chaos once again. They want to draw you out to the final battle before you're ready because surely, some child cannot defeat the Dark Lord. But they're wrong, Harry. You're not a child and you stopped being one the day you found out Pettigrew murdered James and Lily. You have to be strong for everyone, a burden no other fifteen-year-old could bear. We're all proud of you because, despite having those horrendous relatives, you're not like him. You care, and because you care you will fight and you will win."
Harry rolled over to face Remus with tears streaming down his cheeks, but a hope in his eyes that Remus had last seen when Harry had found out Sirius was innocent. "Thank you."
Remus stood and walked to the door. "You're quite welcome, Harry. Your parents would be proud." And with that sentiment, he left Harry to his own devices.
Harry was walking through a fog. A deep, green fog. He wasn't sure where he was or how he had gotten there. All he knew was that he was going somewhere important.
The fog cleared and Harry found himself standing before the house in Godric's Hollow. Through the window, he could see a man who looked very much like him working fervently at a table and a woman with red hair stirring something at the stove; his parents.
He moved steadily towards the door, and instead found it moving further away. His parents opened the door and held out their arms. Harry broke into a run but the door continued to move far away. A wind stirred out of no where and soon became a full storm.
"Harry!" they shouted. "Come home!"
"How?" he screamed over the wind.
"The answer is within you!" his mother cried. His father added, "Look into your heart, son! We love you!" The door slammed shut and the storm stopped.
Harry jumped up out of bed, a look of sheer determination on his face. He dressed quickly and quietly and scurried downstairs after a quick glance at the clock. 2 'o clock. Ron’s loud grunts and snores from the lumpy living room sofa startled him at first, but he soon got used to them. He’s had to sleep down here because of me, Harry thought. With a pang of guilt in his already heavy heart, he scurried about the homely kitchen.
There were eggs to be beaten, sausages and hash browns to be made after that, pancakes, muffins, bagels…
Ron awoke to the pleasant smell of his mum’s cooking. If there was one thing he like coming home to after a long school year, it was homemade…well, everything. He yawned, stretched, scratched himself and then followed his nose to the tantalizing smell.
Hermione rose sleepily from her bed. It wasn’t right for Harry to stay in his room for that long. And poor Ron had to sleep on that lumpy couch that Mr. Weasley loved. Oh well, right now, all she needed was a good hearty breakfast and a glass of pumpkin juice to fully wake up. She could worry about everything she normally worried about later; NEWTS, Harry, what job she’d get after Hogwarts, Harry, Ron, Harry, and the like.
Ginny was seated in the garden, her favorite place to watch the sunrise. She knew her mother would bite her head off about leaving in the middle of the night (5 AM, but who’s counting?) through a window, no less, but it would take her mind off of more important things…like Harry. As the sun rose, she decided resolutely that she was going to do everything in her power to make sure Harry was happy.
Let something good happen, for once.
With that final wish, she stood and made for the door that led into the kitchen.
Ron, Hermione, and Ginny entered the kitchen at the same time. Harry was fast asleep at the table. What was most astounding, however, was a spread of food in front of him that neither of them had seen since the end of the school year.
“Wow,” Ron breathed. Not wanting to waste a second of time, he swooped in on the food, helping himself to one or two of each of the 25 items Harry had cooked.
Ginny and Hermione shrugged and helped themselves as well.
While the trio was stuffing their faces, Mr. and Mrs. Weasley came in. Open mouthed, they surveyed all the food on the table. “Did you three do this?” Mrs. Weasley asked, astonished by their accomplishment.
Hermione shook her head and swallowed audibly. “Nuh-uh, Mrs. Weasley. It was Harry.” She pointed at the slumbering mass of raven hair.
“Oh, dear.” Mrs. Weasley scurried over to Harry’s seat and gently shook him. “Harry?”
Harry snorted and looked up. Plastered to his head was a note of all the things he had made with tiny check marks next to each of them. “Who?”
Ginny, Hermione, and Ron sniggered. Mrs. Weasley hugged him. “You dear, sweet boy. Did you do all of this yourself? When did you have time? It’s only 6!”
Harry reddened and shrugged. “I had a dream and I guess I realized what was really important. I’m sorry for being such a prat these last few days.”
Mrs. Weasley’s eyes filled dangerously. At Harry’s panicked look, Mr. Weasley beckoned his wife over. “All’s forgiven, son,” and served himself a particularly large slice of grapefruit. Harry looked at Mr. Weasley in awe.
After never being called it before, he had been called ‘son’ twice in one day.
AN: Okay, so this one is shorter than the last but I swear on my fluffy black quill (man I love that thing...) that the next one will be so long you'll get tired of reading. Also, I'll be out over the weekend so I'll only be able to post maybe 1 or 2 chapters between now and then. Thanks for all of my reads! Peace, redcannons
Write a Review Harry Potter and the Land of the Free: Chapter 2: Resolutions