Mother Knows Best

Chapter 2

Closure...of sorts

The next morning, Harry awoke to a loud explosion. He realised Fred and George (Ron's next-oldest twin brothers) must be visiting. Harry was feeling much better; it was hard to stay in a bad mood at the Burrow. Hedwig tapped at the window, and Harry saw she was holding a letter. He let her in, took the letter and saw from the large, untidy scrawl that is was from Hagrid.

Great news! Beaky's home! He was very happy to see me, but he seems a bit sad, too. You may have heard that he's been cleared of all charges, thanks to Dumbledore. Can't say I'm sorry to see Lucius Malfoy in prison, not after what he did to poor Beaky. And I can't wait to see Draco Malfoy's face when he sees Beaky's back! If that git puts one toe out of line, I'll give him detention mucking out Beaky's stall for a month. By the way, I think you should start thinking about having a birthday party, its not every day you turn sixteen! I'll be lookin' forward to seeing you at school.

Cheers,

Hagrid.

In truth, Harry hadn't thought about a party at all. He wasn't even that excited about his upcoming birthday. Harry had never had a birthday party; he'd only started getting real cards and presents when he'd come to Hogwarts and met Ron and Hermione. Harry wasn't sure how to go about throwing a party, nor did he know if the Weasleys would mind hosting it. However, Harry didn't have long to ponder this, because soon Mrs. Weasley knocked on his door. "Harry, dear, breakfast is ready," she called tentatively. Her voice contrasted violently with Aunt Petunia's; Mrs. Weasley's was filled with genuine concern and sweetness.

Harry suddenly realised he was still wearing his clothes from yesterday. He came out of his room, looked up at Mrs. Weasley (in that he looked up from the ground; he had been taller than Mrs. Weasley for a few years now) and muttered "I, um, don't have anything else to wear."

"Oh," said Mrs. Weasley. "Why don't you try these on?" she produced some clothes that looked about Harry's size. "Miss Grinder sent them," she explained, going a bit pink.

Harry did have clothes that fit, but they were all his school robes, and they were packed away with his school things back at the Dursleys. Harry had been weighed and measured back at Child Welfare; to check for malnutrition, they had said. They had also done a lot of other medical tests, but Harry didn't really care to know what Child Welfare found out. So the clothes fit fairly well, and they were much better than Dudley's old hand-me-downs. Harry descended the stairs to the sound of Mrs. Weasley shouting "No George!" and "Fred!! I swear if I catch you using one more invention of yours!!"

The twins replied "Mum! We're not kids anymore, how do you expect us to keep up with the competition if we don't come up with new products?"

Harry smiled. He sat down at the table, and Mrs. Weasley piled food on his plate while shouting "You wouldn't need to worry about that if you'd stayed in school and gotten proper jobs!" Mrs. Weasley wasn't a very large woman, but she was the most intimidating person Harry had ever met; he tried to avoid crossing her whenever possible. Fred and George had quit school last spring, after pulling one final, spectacular practical joke that turned the hall outside of Charms class into a swamp. They had started inventing all sorts of things even before that, selling their inventions by mail order under the name 'Weasleys' Wizard Wheezes.' Harry had given them his Triwizard competition winnings a year ago to help them start up their own business. Harry felt sort of guilty about the whole affair, as the twins had gone to set up their own business in the middle of the school year, and they probably would have finished their last year if it hadn't been for Harry. It seemed as though Mrs. Weasley hadn't quite forgiven the twins yet, even though their shop was an instant success. Mrs. Weasley had never approved of Fred and George's inventions, and not without reason: some of them were rather dangerous. Last year, they had given a Skiving Sweet to Alicia Spinnet to stop her nosebleed, but only made it worse. Alicia had nearly fainted, and had to be taken to the infirmary.

"Oh, 'morning, Harry," said Fred, grinning.

"We were just discussing the importance of new product lines." George may as well have been Fred's reflection; he was identical to him, right down to the grin. "Have you given any thought to what you want to do for you sixteenth birthday party yet?"

Harry blushed. "Well, no, actually."

"What??!" said George.

"Why, that's brilliant!" said Fred. "I can see the headline now: 'Harry Potter does nothing for sixteenth birthday, no article to follow'." Fred and George both laughed, and even Harry smiled.

"But seriously," said George, "This is going to be really big, I expect half the Wizarding world will want to celebrate your birthday, Harry, especially with You-Know-Who one the loose."

"George!" Mrs. Weasley scolded, "I'm sure the last thing Harry wants is to be gawked at like a zoo animal on his birthday."

Harry was still red, "it's alright. I've gone sixteen years without a birthday party; why start now?"

"What?" said Mrs. Weasley, shocked.

"Never?" Ron finally spoke up.

"Well, maybe when I was still a baby, living with my parents, but I can't remember that."

"Mum, we've got to do something," Ron said, he turned to Harry, "you should have a birthday party at least once in your life. "

"Well, maybe just something small," Harry suggested, knowing he was not likely to get Ron off the subject.

"How about a birthday supper?" Mrs. Weasley suggested, sensing Harry's discomfort at the idea of a party. "Something a little more grown up? We could invite whoever you like, and eat outside," Mrs. Weasley suggested. Then, as an afterthought, she added, "It won't go on for very long though, we'll finish up as soon as it gets dark."

"But mum," Ron began to protest.

"Until dark!" Mrs. Weasley repeated, her voice full of finality. Harry nodded in assent. "Now hurry up and finish," she instructed him, "I promised Ms. Grinder I'd take you to the council today."

"You mean counselling," Harry corrected glumly.

* * * *

Harry sat staring defiantly at the counsellor before him, determined not to speak. The counsellor stared back at Harry with a patient, kindly expression.

"Hello, Harry," The counsellor began, "I'm Doctor Sykes. And yes, you can make all the jokes you want about my name." Sykes smiled. "Now, I am not going to ask you about how your Aunt and Uncle have been treating you; we have statements from you cousin, Dudley Dursley that coincide with what you told Ms. Grinder. What I want to discuss with you, Harry, is a much more serious matter," Sykes leaned closer to Harry, now frowning concernedly. "You are a troubled young man, and many people are after you. Having the world's most powerful dark wizard wanting you dead must be having an impact on you, and the deaths you have witnessed, even more so."

Harry gaped. "But how-?"

"My brother went to Hogwarts; but I'm a Squib. I contacted Headmaster Dumbledore in order to get some background on you, though, as I suspected the Prophet does not know everything that has happened to you. Of course, it's hard not to know about you, but I think you deserve to know a little more about me.

"Only about half of the people in my family are born with the ability to use magic, but my parents were still bitterly disappointed that I showed no magical abilities at all, as any wizard parents would be. They hid their disappointment from me as best they could, and they believed that I could be very helpful to wizards, even with no powers. They were very supportive of me, sometimes my brother was even jealous, I think, of the attention they lavished on me." Sykes laughed softly, "I eventually went into psychiatry; and I help in-between magical cases, like yours. Cases where a young witch or wizard's presence in the Muggle world has become problematic." Harry was about to protest, but Sykes raised his hand for silence. "I am not saying that you caused the problem, Harry; merely that one exists. I will also be working with your Aunt and Uncle, to try and root out their deep-seated hostilities.

"Now, Harry, can you tell me about you godfather?"

A great lump formed in Harry's throat, and he studied his feet, stalling for time. "How much did Dumbledore tell you?" he asked. Sykes handed Harry a letter. Harry red it over, it was in Dumbledore's handwriting; it mentioned everything that had happened in June, and it also recommended that Sykes try and get Harry to address his bereavement. Dumbledore did not extend trust without reason, and so Sykes must be trustworthy, but still, "None of this goes to the Prophet," Harry said, shaking the letter at Sykes.

"Nothing you say will get out of this office, Harry, it is a basic tenet of patient confidentiality."

Harry took a deep breath, and began his tale. He told Sykes everything: about the first time he'd seen Voldemort, and Tom riddle. About when he found out what had really happened with Sirius, but had then been forced to see him in secret, for his name had not been cleared. He told Sykes about the Triwizard cup, Cedric's death, and the ceremony that brought Voldemort fully back to life. Finally, he told him about the visions he now had, and how they had led to Sirius' death. Harry carefully left out any mention of the prophecy concerning himself and Voldemort, or the Order of the Phoenix, however, just to be safe. Sykes listened patiently throughout, and he looked at Harry with sympathy when he was too filled with grief to continue.

"Do you blame yourself for Sirius Black's death, Harry?" Sykes asked.

Harry was dumbstruck for a moment, but the more he though about it, the more he realised that Sykes was right. "It IS all my fault!" he cried, "I let Voldemort play me like a pawn, and it cost Sirius his life! I..." but Harry couldn't speak anymore, he had broken down completely.

"Harry, you had no control over Sirius' actions. He chose to come after you, knowing what the consequences might be. Your safety was more important to him. Furthermore, You-Know-Who is waging a war, and a very unfortunate part of war is that there are casualties. I'm afraid that your godfather will not be the last person to die in this war." Sykes shook his head sadly. "But if you blame yourself, you cripple our cause. Never forget: if it weren't for you, who knows what evils that He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named would be wreaking upon us?"

Harry nodded, but he didn't really feel any better.

"I'm going to put you into a bereavement support group, Harry, I think being able to talk with other people who have suffered similar losses will help you a lot." Sykes wrote down a time and address on a sheet of paper and handed it to Harry. "And I also want you to call me if your temper gets violent again." Harry started to ask how Sykes know, but again, Sykes raised his hand for silence. "I have already had a session with your aunt, and she mentioned you have become somewhat destructive of late. I suggest you try rigorous exercise as a means of letting off steam. You have a right to be upset, Harry," Sykes assured him, "but you need to find a better outlet for your feelings."

* * *

Harry felt very drained when Mrs. Weasley came to pick him up. He was barely able to stay awake long enough for them to go to Privet Drive to get Harry's things. As soon as they got back to the Burrow, Harry quickly ate a bit of lunch, went upstairs and fell asleep. For once, Harry didn't have nightmares. He kept drifting in and out of consciousness. Harry dreamt he was a very small child, and he was dreaming about being rocked by a woman. But the woman wasn't singing, which didn't seem right for her. Harry asked, "why don't you ever sing?" -ever? Harry didn't know this woman, but in his dream, he had always known her.

"I can't," the woman said simply. The woman started reciting a nursery rhyme to dream-Harry, and he drifted off.

Harry retained only a vague memory of dream shortly being woken up by Mrs. Weasley. Harry soon discovered that he had slept through the afternoon, and it was supper time once again.

Harry decided to be the first to speak. "Um, Mr. Weasley, you're not going to have to report..." Harry was too embarrassed and annoyed to continue.

It took a moment for Mr. Weasley to catch on. "Oh, that, heavens no, that's Muggle business, it has nothing to do with the Ministry." Harry nodded, relieved. "Another thing you might like to know, Harry," Mr. Weasley said, cleaning his horn-rimmed glasses, "The Order has managed to put a gag order on the Prophet; they're not allowed to report on your comings and goings. Professor Dumbledore thought it was a wise precaution, with Death Eaters still at large, and the Dementors out of the Ministry's control. I think it's actually a bit lucky the Muggle police cleared out your house, Harry, we're all a little afraid of having a repeat performance by the Dementors."

"But they were under Umbridge's orders then," Harry protested. "And surely Voldemort wouldn't try that again; besides, I know how to use a Patronus charm, and with that new law passing, I should be fine." The Weasleys all flinched at the name Voldemort.

"Harry!" Ron hissed.

Harry frowned, annoyed. Voldemort." he repeated. "You'd better get used to hearing it, and saying it. If you're afraid to even say his name, then you've lost before you've even started fighting. We've all decided to fight against Voldemort, and we all know that there's risk involved." Harry clenched his fists in an effort to make his eyes stop stinging. "But what we risk if we lose is even worse." He looked up at the Weasleys with grim determination. None of them met his gaze. "You CAN'T just give in to your fear!!" he yelled, pounding his fist on the table, "If you do..." Harry fell back, drained of energy. "If you do," he repeatedly more softly, "then you defile everything Sirius stood for." Harry stared at his plate in silence.

"Oh, Harry," Mrs. Weasley cried, picking him up in a crushing hug. She sobbed into his hair, and the rest of the Weasleys gave him guilty looks. The rest of supper was passed in silence once again, though it was the Weasleys who didn't look up this time, and they had all gone pink. Harry was completely exasperated when he went upstairs after supper that night, so he wrote to Hermione.

Hermione had started saying 'Voldemort' last year, out of respect for Harry, and she was much better at dealing with sensitive issues than Harry was. Harry was hoping that she would have some suggestions on how to deal with the Weasleys name-phobia. Harry was careful not to let on that he was staying with the Weasleys; he didn't know how safe it was to send letters by owl. Hedwig was very loyal, and she had yet to be intercepted, but she had come very close last year, and had come out of it with a broken wing. So Harry had decided to be very careful about when and what he wrote; this was the first letter he'd written all summer. Harry didn't want to see Hedwig hurt again, so he borrowed Ron's owl, Pigwidgeon, to send the letter instead. Harry knew that not many wizards had Snowy Owls, and Hedwig was too easily traced to him. Harry made a mental note to ask Mr. Weasley if it was any safer to send owl post now that the Ministry had acknowledged that Voldemort was back. Harry gave Hedwig an apologetic pat as he tied the letter to Pigwidgeon's leg. She clicked her beak angrily as she watched the tiny owl take flight. "I'm sorry, Hedwig, but it's just too dangerous to send you. By the way, it's probably a good idea if you keep going back to Privet Drive and staying there for a while; so anyone who's watching will think I'm still there." Hedwig clicked her beak again, but nibbled his ear affectionately, and took off.

As Harry watched Hedwig disappear, he couldn't help but marvel at the irony of his situation. Harry had finally learned why he had to stay with the Dursleys, and no sooner does he understand this, than they are hauled off for treating him so badly for all those years. They had even started treating him well, sort of, if only out of fear of him coming of age and being able to use magic at home. Also, Harry usually loved spending time with the Weasleys, they treated him like family, yet he had been able to alienate the whole lot of them in only twenty-four hours.

Just then, there was a knock at the door. "Who is it?" Harry asked.

"Ginny."

"Come in," Harry answered, perplexed.

Ginny Weasley was the youngest of the seven Weasley children, and the only girl. She was only a year younger that Harry and Ron, and a year behind them at Hogwarts. In her first year, she had fallen victim to a plot to restore a young Tom Riddle; Voldemort's true identity, and nearly died. Now, Harry watched curiously as Ginny opened to door to Percy's old room, leaned against the door and gave Harry an evaluative look. Then she let out a sigh. "You're right," she said simply.

"About what?"

"About us being afraid; it's silly. Still..." she began to pace, "old habits are hard to break." Ginny sat down on the end of Percy's old bed to stop herself from pacing. "Mind, you, its not that we having nothing to fear," she said assertively, "we don't want to lose anyone else."

"We are fighting a war, Ginny, wars have casualties. Sirius won't be the last." Harry answered coldly, paraphrasing Dr. Sykes.

This realisation stuck Ginny, and she stared at Harry in shock. "But Harry, surely you don't want anyone else to die!"

"OF COURSE NOT!! I NEVER WANTED ANYONE TO DIE! I COULDN'T FINISH OFF SIRIUS WHEN I THOUGHT HE HAD BETRAYED MY PARENTS, NOR COULD I LET PETTIGREW DIE EVEN AFTER I KNEW HE'D BETRAYED MY PARENTS AND GOTTEN THEM KILLED! I COULDN'T EVEN PERFORM A PROPER CRUCIATUS CURSE ON BELLATRIX LESTRANGE AFTER SHE'D KILLED SIRIUS!" Harry closed in on Ginny, his voice becoming dark and quiet. "But all that compassion's ever gotten me is trouble; if Wormtail hadn't escaped, Voldemort would probably still be little more than a shadow. And no matter what anyone says, it was my recklessness that got Sirius killed."

"That same recklessness saved my life." Ginny retorted. "That same reckless behaviour cleared Sirius Black's name, and drew V-" Ginny hesitated, "Voldemort out into the open; causing the arrest of more than half of the Death Eaters. Harry, a lot of good comes out of your 'recklessness.' Even if you don't think it was worth the cost, Sirius did not die in vain."

Something occurred to Harry; "How long have you been practicing that speech, Ginny?"

"Since you got here. But I've been thinking about that stuff all summer." Ginny crossed her arms and stared at Harry defiantly. "How about we make a rule? Nobody talks about Sirius, the Order, or the Death Eaters for the rest of the summer. And we only talk about V...Voldemort in passing, to practise saying his name?"

Harry smiled. "Thanks, Ginny. But you'd better be careful; you're starting to sound like Hermione; and I think one Hermione Granger is all this world can take!"

Ginny smiled. "Goodnight, Harry." Ginny got up and left, going a bit pink.