Chapter Text
His Until Death
Chapter 1
'You have no idea what it's like!' his mind screamed even as Harry sat as still as stone and ramrod straight in his seat. ‘You have no idea what it’s like to see something that should be beautiful, but instead it’s just a dull lifeless blob.’
It felt like the world was closing in on Harry, the adults were around him asking him questions, demanding answers from him, and his friends were standing against the far wall looking at him with pity and fear.
He felt hands on his shoulders, shaking him roughly and making his head snap around on his neck, before those hands were yanked harshly away from him. A face that should have brought joy to Harry came into view and began begging him to talk to them.
And yet all Harry could do was stare lifelessly into those silver eyes that were filled with so much worry and love.
Harry wanted to be angry at all of them, he really did, but all he felt was hollow inside. There was a stinging pain in both his arms, but other than that he felt like he was floating in a sea of blandness.
‘You have no idea what it’s like to know you should be happy, but all you can feel is emptiness.’
There were so many things that Harry wanted to yell, to scream, to cry out at everyone staring at him. Instead he just continued to sit there staring without actually seeing into the room around him. It was like he was a prisoner inside his own body and mind.
What was the point of trying to explain things to people that obviously had no idea how he felt? They wouldn’t understand. None of them would ever understand. The worst of it? Harry could easily blame each and everyone of them for what had almost happened, and yet he couldn’t even bring himself to be angry.
There was only one thing he was feeling at that moment, and it was regret. Regret that he had been saved in time.
It could be argued that Harry had always felt like the world was bland and empty. For as long as he had lived at the Dursley’s, his life had always held very little meaning to him. Everyday was just a series of pointlessly repetitious chores that gave Harry no sense of enjoyment or satisfaction.
When he had found out just who he was and that magic was real, for the first time in Harry’s life he actually felt something other than bland emptiness. It was like he had been blind his entire life and suddenly he could see color.
The happiness Harry had felt about going to Hogwarts and leaving the Dursley’s for the majority of the year stayed with him and only grew stronger when he made his first friends. For the first time ever that darkness that Harry had always felt fell back to the farthest parts of his mind and he was actually able to be the kid he had always wished he could be.
Harry should have known he couldn’t be happy forever though.
That empty darkness would always start to creep back whenever Snape would belittle him, but Harry had grown used to that sort of treatment from the Dursley’s so he was able to at least pretend that he wasn’t affected.
Christmas helped, especially thanks to all the gifts and reminders that he had real friends for the first time ever.
A year of happiness could not keep the darkness at bay though when he was returned to the home of his nightmares where he was locked away like an insane secret. Thankfully he was rescued by his friends and the darkness couldn’t get a good grip on him like it had while he had been growing up.
The world still held some beauty to it and he could still feel joy as he hung out and laughed with his friends.
Harry should have known that any sort of happiness couldn’t last. He really should have known as with each year something more dangerous and more crazy happened to him. His second year taught Harry that he couldn’t trust people to believe him even when he told the truth. The dementors during his third year reminded Harry that the dark emptiness he had been trying to ignore was still there, waiting to wrap around him again.
When fourth year came, the last of Harry’s happiness shattered. He still pretended to be fine, to laugh and joke with his friends when he could, but that darkness that had always been with him just swallowed him whole once more. Voldemort had returned and it felt like no one had done anything to help Harry or to protect him.
Cedric, someone Harry had actually looked up to, had died because Harry had tried to be honorable. He had been killed all because Harry had offered to share the glory with him. Voldemort hadn’t even cared that Cedric had been a pureblood or that his father worked at the ministry.
And then, after just witnessing someone being murdered in front of him, Harry was sent back to his muggle relatives. It wasn’t just that though, it was that he was sent to them after being practically abandoned by his godfather within hours of seeing one horror after another.
Harry understood, really he did, Sirius had responsibilities to take care of. Whatever Dumbledore had sent him out to do, had to have been very important.
Knowing all of that though, did not help the dark feelings from flooding his mind and body. By the time he arrived back in the Dursley household, he felt numb to everything once again.
When Dudley and his gang came at him the first couple times during the summer, Harry didn’t even try to run. He didn’t cry out when they hit him, he didn’t beg for them to stop, he just let them do what they wanted. Half the time Harry didn’t even feel when they would hit him.
Apparently him not fighting back made him a very boring target, so they eventually stopped. Dudley would try to insult him, or his ‘weird’ friends and dead parents, but nothing that was said ever got a rise out of Harry.
The world was just bland for him and he didn’t see the point in even trying to pretend he was alright anymore. Why should he when it was obvious that no one cared enough about him to even check on him while he was trapped for the summer? Why should he even try to care about anything when no one seemed to care about him?
One evening found Harry at the old abandoned playground, sitting on the only swing still attached to the hanging chains. He was nursing a sore side from where his uncle had kicked him earlier as well as a blackeye from where Dudley had slammed his head into a doorknob earlier. All things considered, they weren’t horrible injuries. He’d had worse over the years. He knew the blackeye would heal within a couple days and that the soreness in his side would be gone in another hour or so.
It seemed that the only thing that even remotely cared about Harry, was his own magic. It was the only thing that had ever tried to take care of him and protect him over the years. His magic had never failed him even when he’d felt like he had failed himself.
“There you are freak.”
Harry didn’t even bother to look up from his feet. The rocks that were scattered in the dirt under the swing were more interesting than his cousin. The grooves caused by hundreds of feet from years of swinging were more interesting than his obese cousin.
“What is your problem freak?”
It seemed like his cousin was getting angry with him for his lack of response again. Dudley’s friends had already given up on tormenting Harry so it was just Dudley standing there this time.
“I hear you at night you know. ‘No! Cedric! Don’t go!’ Did your freak boyfriend leave you or something?” Dudley spat out, his anger getting worse and worse the longer his cousin said and did nothing.
Harry glanced up at Dudley before shrugging. He felt a momentary anger rise up from the depths of emptiness that he was submerged in, but it was gone within seconds. Cedric was dead and no one had cared about what it had done to Harry to see his fellow student be murdered right in front of him.
“Don’t ignore me!”
The fist that Harry had been expecting since Dudley had first showed up came right into his line of vision and a burst of pain flared across Harry’s cheek. Pain seemed to be the only thing Harry could feel anymore. If not for the pain that he felt, Harry would have thought he had died back in the graveyard with Cedric and that all of this was his personal hell.
“What do you want Dudley?” Harry asked tiredly. Even after being punched he still didn’t bother looking up at his cousin. “You want to beat me up? Go ahead. I don’t care anymore.” It was then that Harry stood up. He stretched his arms out around him to make himself a bigger target for his idiot cousin.
When his cousin just dumbly looked at him, Harry felt a bit of annoyance. “Well? Are you just going to stand there or are you going to hit me?” Harry took a threatening step forward.
For a moment he felt his heart beating fast in his chest. He felt alive for the first time since the end of the tournament, and all because he was looking forward to the pain a good beating would bring. He must have been sick if he was actually wanting to get pummeled by Dudley, but the pain had a weird grounding effect for Harry. It was the only thing that ever pushed the emptiness away for a short while.
He still felt empty when he was in pain, but it didn’t feel as if it were suffocating him. Instead the pain made it feel like he was floating.
The two cousins stood across from each other for several silent minutes until finally Dudley scoffed and spun around. “You’re such a freak!”
Dudley really had no sense of imagination if he couldn’t seem to come up with a worse insult than the typical ‘freak’ comment. Malfoy had done a better job over the years for crying out loud and his fall back phrase was ‘wait until my father hears about this’.
Disappointment filled Harry and his arms flopped down against his sides. He could feel that empty nothingness swallowing him again. In the past, back when he’d still had hope and could still feel joy, he would have fought against it. Now though, he didn’t care enough to try.
Harry was contemplating sitting back down on the swing again, but now that he was standing he realized that it had gotten rather dark out. As much as he hated being there, he should probably head back to the Dursley’s for the night.
A chill was starting to settle in the air and Harry was sure it would only get worse as it got later into the night. Summer time was typically hot and humid, but it wasn’t completely unheard of for a cold snap to hit the area at night.
The last thing Harry needed was to get a cold on top of his already depressed mood. As much as he didn’t care about himself, he didn’t want to be absolutely miserable for the rest of the summer.
So Harry trudged down the street. Dudley was already gone, having given up on tormenting Harry when Harry had egged him into actually hitting him. He wasn’t all that surprised that Dudley had hurried back home. He was probably going to complain to his mummy and daddy about how much of a freak Harry was being again.
Perhaps his uncle would kick him again? Maybe if Harry was a little more snide and snippy with his comments he could get a lashing with his uncles belt. The fat man hadn’t done something like that since Harry had turned 11.
“Maybe I really am a freak.” Harry mumbled. He stopped in shock as he looked at the misty cloud that had come from his mouth when he’d spoken. After taking a deep breath in, Harry let it all out in a whoosh, shocked to see that it had turned into a little fog again.
Cold snaps in the summer weren’t uncommon, but to the point of almost freezing? It was impossible!
That’s when Harry noticed the ice building up on the tunnel walls around him. He shivered as fear crawled up his spine. It wasn’t a normal fear that he was feeling, no, it was a bone tingling and all encompassing fear that he hadn’t felt since his third year.
“Shit!” Harry cursed as he realized what was happening. Now that he was aware of it, he could practically sense the dementors near him. The distant sound of his mother’s screams were in the back of his mind. His body was shaking uncontrollably and Harry felt like his heart was trying to escape from his chest.
Why was it the emotion that he felt the most, even when he was feeling nothing at all, was fear? It wasn’t like he even had many happy memories for dementors to even feed off of, so why were they so attracted to him?!
Just as Harry was about to break out in a run, he spotted it. The dementor was at the end of the tunnel, blocking him from going forward. He swallowed hard and turned to run in the opposite direction, only to come to a dead stop when he spotted the second
Harry was trapped, alone, in a tunnel with his worst nightmare coming straight for him. He was going to die and no one would even know until long after it was too late.
On instinct Harry went for his wand when both dementors started floating towards him only to stop as a thought hit him.
What if...what if he didn’t fight? What if, for once in his life, Harry made a decision for himself? For all of his life he had been miserable. He had only ever been truly happy a few times in his life, but those moments had always been followed up with even more pain and misery. Ever since he’d been 11 and had entered the magical world his life had been placed into progressively more and more dangerous life threatening situations.
For a moment all Harry wanted to do was...give up. He remembered what it had felt like back in his third year, when his soul had almost been sucked out of him. He had been afraid, but at the same time he had felt weightless and, dare he say it, free. It had been a relief back then to be saved, back when he’d still had something to live for, but now? He actually wanted to feel that weightless freedom again.
His wand hand had slowly been dropping down the longer he’d been thinking about what it would be like to just give in, until finally his hand was hanging limply at his side. Harry didn’t even notice when his wand slipped from his hand and clattered mutely against the ground.
Surprisingly enough, the fear that Harry had first felt when he had noticed the presence of the dementors slipped away the more sure he became of just wanting everything to end. What did he have to fear now that he had finally admitted to himself what he really wanted? Harry knew, deep in his soul, that his death would mean the end of all his suffering. He had no idea if he would just cease to exist or if he would go into some sort of afterlife, but anything was better than the miserable life he had been suffering through for the last 14 years.
So when the first of the two dementors floated over to him, Harry just leaned back against the tunnel wall and closed his eyes.
This wasn’t the first time he had ever thought about dying, but it was the first time he had ever been completely and utterly open to just letting his life end. He was a little sad that he wouldn’t get to say goodbye to anyone, to maybe explain to Sirius why he was too tired to keep trying anymore, but Harry knew everyone would move on eventually.
Hermione and Ron would have each other to support each other. Sirius hadn’t really been able to spend enough time with Harry to actually become close to him. The Weasley’s were a close family and it wasn’t like he had ever actually been a part of their family.
“Will the pain go away?” Harry asked, his voice raspy and weak even to his own ears. “After you take my soul, will I feel pain anymore?”
Harry didn’t really expect an answer from the dementors, he didn’t even know if they could understand english. Still, the one that had floated closest to him reached out a hand and for a brief moment Harry felt an ice cold finger press against his cheek as if to comfort him.
How strange was it that in that tiny gesture, one that probably meant absolutely nothing, he found comfort? The dementors were probably just making sure he couldn’t escape. Even still though, to Harry it was as if the dementor was trying to reassure him that there was nothing left for him to worry about.
Now that he had accepted his death, everything else was meaningless for him. In just a few short minutes, his body would be nothing but an empty shell and his soul would be free of all his burdens, his fears, and his misery.
With Harry’s eyes closed, he didn’t see as the dementor lowered its head down to be closer to him, but he heard it. He heard the rasping intake of breath and the strange rattling that reminded Harry of wooden windchimes in the fall. The freezing chill in the air had numbed his body and all he could feel was the dementor's fingers on his cheek.
Just as it had been in his third year, Harry felt when the dementor started to pull his soul from his body. Even though the dementor was breathing in, Harry didn’t really feel like it was a ‘sucking’ feeling. He didn’t feel like he was being pulled through a straw like with a portkey or with apparition, but instead he felt like his body was dropping away.
It kind of felt like he was floating underwater.
For Harry, it felt like time was moving at an eternally slow pace. All his emotions vanished with each passing second. The painful ache of regret and guilt he had felt since Cedric’s death was the first to go, then the despair and sense of betrayal from being abandoned by the wizarding world. The pain and misery from years of abuse lifted away and Harry sighed in relief when he was left with the one emotion he had given up on so long ago.
Hope.
He felt hope, but this time it was the hope that his pain would never return. Harry felt hope that soon he would be blissfully gone and all his thoughts and feelings would vanish into oblivion.
“Harry!”
Suddenly the tunnel was full of a bright silver light that flooded his eyes even with them closed. The weightless feeling he had been enjoying was gone and suddenly Harry was overwhelmed with all the pain, fear, misery, anger, regret, and guilt he had gratefully let go of in the face of his death. He let out a sob and tried to grab onto the fleeing dementor as it was pushed back by a large silver wolf that was snarling at it.
“No! Stop!” Harry begged as both dementors fled into the night and Harry was left alone once again. Another broken sob was wrenched from him as his knees gave out and he fell to the ground next to his forgotten wand. He had been so close to finally being free of all his pain and it had been stolen from him!
“Why would you do that?!” Harry demanded, to out of his mind from the sudden influx of all his negative and overwhelming emotions to realize he was yelling at Remus. “I didn’t need your help!”
“Harry, you need to calm down.”
There were hands on Harry’s shoulders, but he pushed away from Remus as hard as he could. His back hit the tunnel wall and he sobbed as the warming bricks soaked the back of his shirt.
The hands returned and they turned into a tight hug that Harry sagged into. His strength was completely gone and he knew he wouldn’t be able to fight anymore even if he wanted to. The dementors may have failed in taking his soul, but they had taken all of his strength and control.
Or maybe he’d lost those when his adrenaline had finally crashed.
Words were being whispered into Harry’s hair and slowly his sobbing calmed down. He still couldn’t seem to get any feeling into his limbs after being practically frozen by the dementors. The physical numb sensation slowly leaked into his emotions and Harry suddenly felt detached from everything.
He had almost died, and yet Harry only felt remorse because he had failed. It was in that moment that Harry finally admitted the truth to himself; he wanted to die. Harry wanted to die and had wanted to die for a long time.
“We need to go Harry. Come on, hold onto me.”
He was being helped up and if it weren’t for the support of those arms that were wrapped around his shoulders and holding onto his arm, Harry was sure he would have fallen over. He definitely would have fallen when he’d noticed a large lump on the ground just outside of the tunnel.
“There’s nothing you can do for him, Harry,” Remus whispered as he pulled Harry along. They had to get off the street and out of danger. “Someone will come back for him.”
Harry was so out of it from the combination of the emotional overload, adrenaline crash, and near death experience that he didn’t even realize that the lump had been his cousin. It wasn’t until he was inside of the Dursley household, his aunt and uncle in his face and demanding to know where Dudley was that Harry realized the truth.
Although Harry had been ambushed by the dementors, his cousin had been their first victim. They must have been waiting for Harry specifically if they hadn’t left after sucking out Dudley’s soul.
Remus escorted Harry all the way up to his bedroom, both of them ignoring his irate aunt and uncle who were still loudly demanding to know what was going on.
“What happened out there Harry?”
Perhaps he was just imagining things, but Harry could have sworn he saw Remus frowning when the man looked around his sparse room. He wasn’t looking at Harry, but instead at the damaged furniture that Harry had tried to repair over the years.
“The dementors attacked.” Harry’s voice cracked and almost instantly Remus transfigured a glass for him and filled it with water. “Dudley left before me, I was in the tunnel alone when the dementors showed up.”
A shiver ran down Harry’s spine as he recalled that cold fear he had first felt. “There was a dementor at either end of the tunnel.”
Remus waited for Harry to continue, but when it became obvious that the boy was going to remain silent, he sighed. Something else had happened in that tunnel and he was worried that he knew exactly what it was. He flicked his wand, whispered two words, and his silver patronus wolf reappeared.
Whatever it was that Remus was saying to the wolf, Harry didn’t hear it. His mind was too focused on his replaying memories of just a few minutes ago. He couldn’t stop thinking about how he had been so close to dying earlier. If Remus hadn’t shown up, Harry would have finally been free.
“Why were you there Remus?” Harry asked once the room was dark and silent again. “I thought Dumbledore had you doing something important.”
The answer Harry got was a nervous clearing of a throat. A momentary burst of anger filled Harry and his eyes narrowed suspiciously at Remus.
“Were you spying on me?!”
“No! Goodness no Harry nothing like that.” Remus was quick to say. “We have people watching Privet drive, to keep you safe, and I got a message from one of them that you were in danger. I came straight away.”
“There are people...watching…”
Of course there were people watching Privet drive! How could Harry have been so stupid as to think that there wouldn’t be guards around his home? And yet, even with people watching, no one had thought to keep him updated on what was going on in the world? No one had thought to maybe talk to him now and then? What had they been doing when his uncle had kicked him in the side repeatedly and when his cousin had attacked him?
“Harry...where did you get that black eye?”
Harry snorted softly when he was asked that. “No one told you?” He asked darkly. “If people are watching me, shouldn’t they know what happened?” He got no answer from Remus, so Harry just huffed and flopped down on his bed with his back turned towards Remus.
“Dudley slammed my face into a doorknob. Happens almost every summer.” Maybe not in that exact way, but Harry always ended up with a variety of bruises thanks to his cousin's determined desire to hurt Harry.
That wouldn’t be happening anymore, and Harry winced at that thought. Dudley was dead now, and Harry was more upset with the fact that the dementors had gotten to Dudley before they’d gotten to him.
Harry heard the exact moment that someone arrived with Dudley’s empty husk of a body. He heard his uncle and aunt scream and how his aunt cried hysterically. He knew that if it had been his body brought in like that his aunt and uncle probably would have just thrown his body out with the garbage. They wouldn’t have cared if Harry had been killed even though he was their family.
There was a knock on Harry’s door, which he barely heard thanks to his uncle’s mad raving. Harry’s shoulder twitched, but otherwise he kept his back turned towards Remus and the door. Now that he wasn’t feeling weak kneed and shaky, Harry was starting to feel like he was drowning again. That empty darkness was coming back, creeping through his mind and making it impossible for him to feel anything other than hopeless, worthless, and depressed.
Hushed whispers were exchanged at Harry’s door, but he ignored them. He didn’t need to hear what they were saying in order to know what they were talking about. They were talking about him,.
After a few minutes, the whispering stopped and Harry heard Remus walk over to stand next to Harry’s bed. “Harry...it’s time to go.”
“Fine. See you later.” Harry should have known that Remus would be leaving again, just as he had done back at the end of the tournament. At least Harry hadn’t had any hope this time that Remus would stay for longer than a few minutes.
“That’s not what I meant.”
Harry’s small child sized bed shifted and he pulled his legs up closer to his chest so that Remus would have a little more room to sit.
“With the dementors attacking you so openly, and your cousin getting hurt, it’s been decided you need to be moved to a safe house.” Harry didn’t respond to his words and Remus reached out to hesitantly touch Harry’s foot. “Harry?”
“So that’s what it takes to get people to care huh?” Harry mumbled as he yanked his foot away from Remus’ touch. “I just have to almost die for people to actually talk to me and give a damn.”
Before Remus could respond, Harry sat up and swung his legs over the edge of his bed. He ignored the shocked look that Remus was giving him as he stood up and started grabbing his things from around the room.
“My trunk is locked in the cupboard under the stairs. Could you get it?” Harry tried to be polite, but he was too numb to be anything but bland. He couldn’t even seem to get angry over the fact that it took his near death to finally get him some attention from the people that were supposed to care about him.
Harry kept his back turned as Remus left and ignored him when the man hesitated in his doorway. Instead Harry focused on just folding up his meager collection of clothes, grabbing his gryffindor scarf off the wall, and crawling under the bed to grab his books and other school supplies he had been able to smuggle up into his room before his trunk had been locked away.
Within minutes Remus returned with his trunk, with only a short delay thanks to his uncle yelling about how they were all going to pay for what they had done to his son.
“Charming isn’t he?” Harry mused as he opened up his trunk and started putting things away one by one. He would have just shoved everything in, except he had already taken the time to fold his clothes.
Harry’s little quip didn’t get a response from Remus, not that he had expected one. Honestly Harry was rather surprised that his uncle hadn’t already stormed up to beat him bloody; even with witnesses. If there was one thing that could push his uncle past caring, it was any harm done to his precious and perfect son.
“Done.” Harry closed his trump with a snap and locked it without even thinking about it.
The moment the lid was closed, Remus was shrinking his trunk down and putting it in his pocket. “We were originally planning on coming to get you tomorrow, but this attack has pushed up the timeline.”
“Whatever.”
Remus hesitated in the doorway, disturbed by how uncaring Harry was being. Perhaps it was just the shock really setting in, at least that’s what Remus hoped it was.
Harry trudged down the stairs, followed close by Remus who was watching him constantly.
“You!”
Instinct kicked in when a sudden fist came out of nowhere and he flinched back. Instead of hitting him though, the fist turned into a beefy hand and grabbed Harry around his neck.
“You and your freaky ways! You killed my son!” Vernon’s eyes were bulging and his face was a mix of red and purple. Spittle was flying from his mouth as he swore and yelled at Harry. “You leave and you never come back, you hear me?” He shook Harry by his throat.
His attack on Harry had shocked everyone for a moment, just long enough for Vernon to start choking Harry. Afterwards, everyone jumped into action to pull Vernon off of Harry and to get some distance between the two.
“If I ever see you again I’ll kill you!” Vernon was knocked onto his couch, right next to a drooling and vacant Dudley. “You hear me freak? I’ll fucking kill you!”
For years Harry had been threatened with all sorts of things by his aunt and uncle, but never had they actually threatened to kill him. Beat him, sure, starve him, absolutely, abandon him, constantly, but never kill him.
Harry swallowed hard and he was rubbing his throat which was now painfully tight and throbbing.
The still form of his aunt Petunia had Harry looking down the hall and towards the kitchen where Petunia was standing. She wasn’t yelling and screaming, nor was she sobbing anymore, but silent tears were cascading down her cheeks. She was so pale and her eyes were so bloodshot from crying that for a moment Harry thought he was looking at a banshee.
“Aunt Petunia?” Harry whispered, his voice breaking because of the soreness in his throat.
Hearing Harry say her name seemed to jolt Petunia out of whatever shock she was in. Her eyes shifted from the couch where her son was sitting to her nephew.
“Get out.” Petunia whispered only to repeat herself a bit louder. “Get out! You’re no family of mine! You’re the spawn of the devil!” She may have not been physically attacking Harry, but her words had the boy flinching away from her. “I should have drowned you the second I saw you on my porch! You ruin everything you touch!”
Perhaps the reason why no one had ushered Harry out of the house yet was because they had thought he would want to say goodbye to his relatives, or that they would want to see him one last time before he left. What was going on must have really been beyond what they had been expecting.
“Come on Harry.”
Hands were pulling Harry along now, pulling him away from his once again silent Aunt and his still yelling uncle. He was led out of the house and into the fenced in backyard. He blinked and looked around, shocked to see that it wasn’t just Remus there with him now. Standing in a small circle with him were Remus, Moody, and two others.
“Wotcher Harry.” The woman with short pink hair across from him said with a smile, the first smile Harry had seen directed at him since school.
“No time for niceties. We need to get going.” Moody growled out as he reached into a pocket and pulled out a large handkerchief. “Grab hold”
Harry felt his stomach drop out from him as he looked at the piece of cloth. After having experienced a portkey a couple times now, he was pretty sure that’s what he was looking at. As he reached out and grabbed an edge of the handkerchief, Harry’s memories of the last portkey flashed in his mind.
He couldn’t quite catch his breath as he relived the memory of Cedric’s death just as the hook and pulling sensation took hold of him.
Once again, just as with all the other times, Harry ended up on the ground as they came out from the portkey.
“Sorry about that.” Remus was the one that helped him up. “We were originally planning on flying, but with how rushed we were to get you to safety-”
“Stop blabbering. We need to get inside.” Moody’s eye was swirling around in his head and he was snarling at every little movement around them. He shoved a folded piece of paper at Harry then and the four adults watched Harry expectantly.
Harry looked down at the note and frowned as he read the inscription. ‘The headquarters can be found at number 12 Grimmauld Place.’ What was that supposed to even mean? It was obviously an address, but why not just tell him instead of giving him a piece of paper.
After reading the little slip of paper again, Harry looked up and around. The street sign said ‘Grimmauld place’ and there were numbered houses across from them. Where number 12 should have been though, there was nothing. The houses were just crammed next to each other as if number 12 had been forgotten.
“Read the note again Harry.” Remus instructed when Harry looked at them in confusion.
With a huff, Harry looked back at the note and then up at the houses. Then, right before his eyes, the air around the buildings seemed to flicker and waver. The houses on either side of where number 12 should have been were suddenly further apart then before and a new house had appeared between them.
“What the-”
“No more questions, get inside.”
Harry was none too gently shoved towards the new building by Moody. He tripped on a step and only kept himself from falling by grabbing the filthy handrail.
“You don’t have to be so rough, Moody.” Remus hissed as he reached over to help Harry once more.
“We wouldn’t even be in this situation if the boy had more sense!” Moody snarled as he stormed up the steps and past Harry. “The boy knows there’s an evil dark lord out to get him, and yet he still chooses to go outside and play!”
Moody stopped ranting once they were all inside. In fact, everyone stopped making as much noise as possible.
“What-”
“We’ll talk in a moment.” Remus whispered hurriedly, “We don’t want to wake-”
There was a loud crash and Remus squeezed his eyes shut and pinched the bridge of his nose. Apparently the pink haired woman had tripped over what looked like a troll’s leg and had made a loud racket. A pair of curtains flung open and a portrait of an older woman started yelling.
“Blood-traitors! Mudbloods! Soiling my home with your filth!”
A door at the other end of the hall was yanked open and for a moment Harry felt a bit of happiness come to him when Sirius shot into the hallway.
“Yes, yes mother, do SHUT UP.” Sirius grabbed the curtains and shut them over the portrait, which was now muffled by what Harry could only assume to be some sort of charm.
Everyone in the hall, minus Harry who was very confused about everything, let out a collective sigh of relief when the curtains were once again closed.
“Will someone please tell me what’s going on?” Harry asked quietly, not wanting the curtains to open back up again.
Sirius spun around then and within seconds Harry was being scooped up and held in a back breaking hug. “It’s good to see you again, pup!” When he set Harry back down, he turned the boy towards the door he’d just come out of. “We’ll explain in the kitchen.”
As soon as Harry was past the door he was once again scooped up into a strong embrace that left him winded. This time it was Molly Weasley that was holding him. The normally warm hug felt lacking as Harry awkwardly patted at Mrs. Weasley’s arm and squirmed to be put down.
“Oh Harry dear! When we got the news that you’d been attacked, we were all so worried!” She seemed to be near tears as she refused to let go of Harry.
Worried? They’d been worried about him? Once again he felt like people only ever seemed to care about him when he was in danger. How else could he explain why he’d barely received any letters from his friends or why he was practically ignored every summer when he was at the Dursley’s?
For the next few minutes everyone crowded around Harry, telling him the same thing over and over; that they’d missed him and that they were glad he was alright.
“Harry...we need to talk about the attack.”
“Not now Remus!” Mrs. Weasley hissed as she tried to once again scoop Harry into a hug. “The poor boy must be traumatized enough. Let him go get some rest with his friends!”
Harry glanced at his ‘friends’. Ron and Hermione were sitting awfully close to each other just a couple chairs down. Their hands were so close on top of the table that Harry was sure they had grown used to clasping them together whenever they were next to each other.
“No. Molly we need to talk!” Remus insisted. He went to kneel next to Harry’s chair. Unlike everyone else in the room, he’d noticed how unresponsive Harry had been during the entire welcome. He’d physically responded whenever someone had hugged him, but he had said very little. It was like the boy was on autopilot and only doing what was expected of him.
“Harry,” Remus reached up to press his hands against Harry’s shoulders, to make sure he had his pup’s full attention, “Harry I need you to tell me why you dropped your wand.”
A pin could have dropped in the room at that moment with how fast the noise suddenly stopped. What felt like a dozen pairs of eyes were trained on Harry right then and Harry felt like he was inside some sort of cage.
“I didn’t-”
“I know what I saw, Harry.” Remus wanted to be angry, he could feel his anger bubbling, but he wasn’t angry at Harry. He was angry that dementors had gotten so close to his pup when everyone had assured him that Harry had been safe. “Your wand was on the ground and you weren’t even fighting the dementor!”
Harry gaped at Remus, his mouth opening and closing as he fought to try and come up with something to say to explain himself. How could he tell them that he’d given up and that he’d wanted to die? In what world would that make sense to these people that he was done with life?
“What are you talking about?” It was Sirius that spoke up now, his voice raspy and confused. “He...he was surprised by a pair of dementors, of course he fought!”
Remus huffed, but he didn’t turn his eyes away from Harry.
“I just-”
“You mastered the Patronus charm in your 3rd year.” Remus reminded Harry and everyone else in the room. “You fought off hundreds of dementors all at once to save yourself and Sirius. Two dementors should have been easy for you!”
“I-”
For a while the room was silent. That was, until a small sob broke from Molly.
“Harry dear?”
“The boy needs training if he was surprised by two dementors. I’ve told Dumbledore that the boy needs training!”
“I’m not about to let you attack Harry and call it training!” Sirius hissed as he spun around to glare at Moody. “I remember your ‘training methods’ from my time at the Auror Academy. No kid should be put through that!”
“Harry...please.”
There were other voices talking around him, but Harry couldn’t seem to focus on any of them. Even Remus, who was on his knees and holding onto Harry’s shoulders, couldn’t seem to keep Harry’s attention. He was just so numb and confused.
“Harry…” Remus’ voice dropped down and was almost a whisper as he spoke next. “Were you...were you letting the dementor kiss you?”
Perhaps a part of Harry had been hoping that with how quiet Remus had said those words that no one would hear him, but that hope was dashed when Sirius cried out like a wounded animal.
“Harry’s not suicidal!” Sirius yelled as he shoved Remus away from Harry. “Don’t you fucking dare accuse him of anything! He was surprised, that’s all!”
It was Sirius’ turn to kneel down in front of Harry. “That’s it right pup? You were just surprised!” There was a manic hope in Sirius’ eyes that Harry couldn’t seem to meet.
In fact, Harry found himself looking away from Sirius. His words were stuck in his throat and his eyes felt heavy. He couldn’t stand to see Sirius like that, but there was nothing Harry could say to relieve him.
Suddenly there were other hands on Harry, shaking him so hard that his head was snapping around his neck. A fight broke out and Harry could hear people arguing around him.
Harry felt like he was watching everything from outside his body. He watched as Molly sobbed, as his friends watched him with worried eyes, how Ron scoffed and Hermione clutched at Ron’s arm. He watched as Sirius tried to punch Remus only to be pulled away by someone Harry didn’t even know.
‘They have no idea what it’s like.’ Harry thought distantly, his anger starting to bubble through the numb emptiness that he was stewing in. How could they when they all still had hope that the world would get better? Maybe Sirius might know he'd spent over a decade surrounded by dementors. But as he watched his godfather, Harry realized that the man had more life in him than Harry.
“Please talk to us Harry.”
Once again it was Remus in front of Harry, begging him to talk about what had happened, begging him to give him an answer.
“I’m tired.” Was all Harry could get out. How could he tell them that the only thing he was feeling at that moment was regret? How could he tell them that he had wanted to die and that he hated Remus for taking that chance from him?
“Of course you are dear!” Molly was quick to push Remus away so that Harry could stand up. “You’re sharing a room with Ron here! Won’t that be nice!” She brushed at Harry’s arms and pulled him into one more shaky hug. “He’ll show you where the bathroom is upstairs so you can clear yourself up.”
It was obvious that Remus still had things he wanted to say, but every adult in the room was glaring at him. He stayed silent as Ron quickly rushed for the door, along with Hermione, so that the trio could leave.
Perhaps it would have been better to stay to explain the situation to everyone, especially with how desperate Sirius looked to follow him, but Harry couldn’t muster the energy to do so. Instead he stood up and followed after Ron and Hermione. He really was tired and all he wanted to do was to go to sleep.
If he was hoping that he never woke up...well...he wouldn’t tell anyone about that.