Midwinter Sun

Midwinter Sun

Laughter is the sun that drives winter from the human face. - Victor Hugo

For everything there is a season / And a time for every matter under heaven. - Book of Ecclesiastes

I leant down and rubbed my leg. It was exceptionally sore today, no doubt anticipating Hermione's visit. Out of pure habit, I manually turned my knee and ankle into a proper, healthy position, knowing full well that the minute I rose to my feet they would twist outward again.

One of the first years stopped in the hall. "Professor Potter, can I help you with anything?"

Honestly, I tried not to glare at the poor girl. I knew what it must look like: the war hero on one knee in the hallway, clearly trying to help his wounded leg. No doubt, she thought she was being helpful. Clearly, hexing her was out of the question, no matter how tempting it might be.

It is at times like this that I appreciate Severus. He has had to deal with this for years. If Poppy tells the story right - and I'm sure she does - Severus has had this since before I was born. I have the greatest respect for him, on my bad days. On my good days, I still feel like cursing him for being a greasy git.

"Professor Potter?"

I turned to the girl and attempted to smile. "Miss Halladay, I believe you have a class to attend."

Her eyes widened and she skittered off, hopefully to class and not to cause mayhem in the halls.

Suppressing a groan, I rose to my feet, feeling my leg turn again as soon as I unbent my knee. Yes, today was not one of my best days. Mind, it was far from my worst, especially during the war, but I would be walking with a decided limp for the next few hours. I shuffled through my robes and found one of the pain relieving potions I tend to keep on me at all times. Just a few sips and I should be able to make it to the Great Hall without too much of a fuss.

At twenty-three, I sometimes feel like an old man, stumbling up and down the stairs, taking this potion and that potion for muscle aches, sometimes staying in bed all day because of everything. Merlin, not even Albus does that!

*

I've been sick for quite some time. No one really knows exactly how long, though. I was once told that robes can hide a myriad of sins. The same can be said for oversized, baggy trousers and jumpers. Between Dudley's cast-offs and my Hogwarts robes, I suppose it's nearly miraculous that we realized what was going on.

When I lived at 4 Privet Drive, no one really watched me. Sure, Aunt Petunia and Uncle Vernon watched me enough to be sure that I completed my chores and Dudley watched me enough to be able to Harry Hunting if he and Piers were bored with their comic books and the telly. But no one watched me for health problems. I had a few kindly teachers, but my aunt and uncle convinced them rather quickly that I was nothing but trouble. And, as I said, oversized, baggy clothing can hide a myriad of sins.

When I arrived at Hogwarts, in awe of my future and my abilities, everyone saw a Savior and it did not occur to anyone that I could have health problems, myself included. The robes hid my body and I coped as I always have. It never crossed my mind that I could be somehow different from everyone else. When I rode a broom and fought Basilisks and traveled through time, it would seem impossible that something could be wrong.

In fact, if it were not for Remus Lupin, it might have never been discovered until I fought on the battlefield and then it might have been too late. During the summer after my fifth year, I stayed with the Dursleys, doing my usual chores, but also grieving for Sirius. In my dreams, I watched him fall through the Veil. I was also plagued with visions of Voldemort. Whether they were true visions or twisted constructs of his demonic imagination was immaterial. I suffered through them, writhing in my bed as Tom Riddle meted out pain to his loyal followers and determined enemies. During the day, I tried to stay inside as best I could: I did not want to face the outside world, the Muggle world which did not know the threat of Voldemort, and the Dursleys encouraged this habit. They did not want the neighbors asking questions about their delinquent nephew, so if I stayed inside, they were pleased. A few weeks into my holiday, I became obsessed with the idea that anyone associated with me would die at Riddle's hands, as my parents, Cedric, and Sirius had. I stopped replying to Ron and Hermione's letters. The mandatory third day letter for the Order became terse and to the point. Remus still has a few and I am embarrassed to read them. Most read something like this:

I'm fine. I'm eating and the Dursleys are treating me fine. We're having roast pork tonight. I spent the day at the park.

Harry

Remus, utterly convinced that something terrible had happened to me, rushed to Surrey in early July. He found me sitting in the garden, desperately trying to find some shade. He tried to talk to me, to get me to tell him what was wrong. I was convinced that if I confided in the older man and became attached to him, I would lose him in the same way I lost Sirius. I am ashamed to admit that I treated him quite badly.

Yet, he returned nearly everyday for that month. Aunt Petunia and Dudley saw him meet me in the garden, or at the front door, or in the park, but they said nothing. They had seen Remus at the station with Mad-Eye and had noticed the distinct change in my behavior. They were staying as far away from me as they could get without actually leaving Privet Drive for another home. I still did my chores, of course - Uncle Vernon refused to be intimidated by 'a bunch of freaks' - but I was left alone during the day.

On my birthday, Remus took me to Muggle London as a sort of treat. I think most of the Muggles thought he was my father, bringing his sullen teenage son out into the city for the day. One elderly woman even reproached me, telling me that I should be thankful that my father cared so much and that I should be kind to Remus. When Remus overheard, he wrapped an arm around my shoulder, comfortingly, and, for once, I did not pull away.

Remus took me to a department store, the name of which I can never remember, to buy me some clothes that actually fit. In reality, I knew that I would pay him back; Remus could hardly afford his own robes, never mind Muggle clothing for a teenager, but, in this case, it was the thought that counted. No one had ever taken me shopping for something so frivolous as trousers and jumpers before that day.

When I walked out of the dressing room, in a pair of fashionable, if inexpensive, jeans and a red and gold jumper, I was not expecting Remus' reaction.

He rushed to my side and immediately began asking what was wrong, had the Dursleys done something, why didn't I tell him I was hurt, and oh, he was going to kill Uncle Vernon if he had done something to me.

Utterly confused, as I thought nothing was wrong, I asked him why he was asking me all these questions: nothing was wrong.

Remus motioned to my right leg, telling me that it was okay to tell him if I was hurt, that he knew it was not my fault.

Looking down, I realized that my foot was indeed positioned awkwardly. My right foot was nearly perpendicular to my left one. I tried to move it so as to make both feet parallel, but it did not work. I tried harder. My foot moved a bit, no longer at a 90 degree angle, but still looking decidedly out of place. I reached down and moved in manually, but my ankle felt immediately strained when my foot came close to a normal position, so I let it go. I turned to Remus and shrugged. So my foot was in a strange position. Decidedly odder things have happened to me both before and since.

Remus reached down and tried to turn it, no doubt in an effort to help. But it hurt and I instinctively kicked him. Immediately I felt terrible; I had just injured my only lasting link to my parents and the only person to ever seek me out in order to celebrate my birthday, as well as the man who, for all intents and purposes, was my surrogate godfather.

He told me that we should find someone to look at my foot. Inwardly, I had rejoiced at the fact that he used the word 'we,' but also feared it. It meant that he was as attached to me as I was to him. That meant he was not safe. I told him that I did not need help for my foot, that it just sometimes did that, which was quite true. But I just learned to deal with it and get on with my life. It was not hurting me in particular and no one noticed when I wore my robes or regular clothing.

The rest of the shopping spree and the ensuing dinner at a Muggle restaurant were overshadowed by the incident in the dressing room. Remus tried to convince me that I needed to see a Mediwizard and that St. Mungo's was not too far away. I stubbornly insisted that nothing was wrong. I did not want to return to the magical world just yet and also knew that if I went to St. Mungo's with a known werewolf, no matter that he had been my professor and best friend to my parents, it would be splashed all over the Daily Prophet and Witch Weekly by the next morning. And I did honestly think that nothing was wrong and could see no point in embarrassing myself and Remus because my leg decided to be a bit twitchy that day.

That night, when Remus left me at Privet Drive, I was quite angry. Remus had become insistent that I receive help and I dug my heels in and protested. Remus never raised his voice to me and I did not throw a tantrum as I had at school the previous year, but it was quite clear that we were angry with one another. By the time I was inside, my leg was cramping, as it often had that summer. I ignored it, rationalizing that I had spent the whole day in London on my feet and I was merely tired. My sleep was wracked with nightmares and visions, some of Voldemort killing Remus in front of me, some of my memories of Sirius and Cedric, and one recurring nightmare of Sirius, the night I learned that he was not the traitor after all, receiving the Kiss because I did not have the strength to summon a Patronus.

When I woke and went to the kitchen for my grapefruit-and-cottage-cheese-with-a-side-of-tea breakfast, I was exhausted. Voldemort had not been torturing anyone, thankfully, but between my constant fears, the fight with Remus, and my nightmares, my sleep had been everything but restful. I was quite thankful for the caffeine in my tea.

After I washed the breakfast dishes and cleaned the kitchen, I escaped to the park for the day. If Remus wanted to see me, he would know where to find me. Half of me hoped that he would come after me again, despite our argument and my fears. The other half expected and almost desired that he would realize what I burden I was and would leave me alone. Once again, though, Remus would do the unexpected.

Remus brought Snape.

To say that Snape and I had ended the year on poor terms would be a bit like saying that Tom Riddle thinks that Muggles have cooties. In a sense, it's very true, but it does not come close to expressing the breadth and depth of the emotion. I had made a nearly unforgivable breach of Snape's privacy during the school year and Snape had been invading my mind, taunting me with my worst memories for months before that. The mutual hatred we had felt for one another had blossomed and grown during that time. Sometimes I felt almost empathetic with Snape's life as it was not entirely dissimilar to my own, but then he would do something like play one of my most hated Harry Hunting sequences over and over in my mind until I pushed him out of it due to sheer desperation.

So, to say that I was surprised to see Snape, in Muggle clothing, standing in the middle of a park in Little Whinging, would be quite the understatement. I remember what happened that day quite well. It was August the first and my life would never be the same.

"I do not see anything amiss, Lupin."

I had not even heard them Apparate, but, then, I had been distracted by my own torn feelings over Remus. I saw them and watched them, but I did not say anything.

"Harry, come over here." I complied with Remus' request. "Would you roll up your trouser leg and let Severus look?"

Slightly confused, I pulled up my trouser leg so that Snape could see me. He frowned for a moment, though whether it was over my leg or over the fact that my trousers did not fit, I do not know.

"Tell me about your visions."

"What?" This man had been a right bastard to me since the day I set foot in Hogwarts and now he wanted me to tell him about my visions? Was he mad?

"Your visions," he repeated and the unspoken 'you ungrateful brat' hung silently in the air between us for a moment. "Do you suffer the Cruciatus?"

Frowning, I nodded. "Yes - sometimes. The Headmaster says that I do not feel them entirely full force, as they're channeled through Voldemort, but I do know it."

He flinched when I said Voldemort's name aloud. "How long has this been going on?"

I shrugged. "Since the night of the Third Task. Dumbledore says that my blood strengthened the bond between us."

Snape and Remus had a silent conversation over my head, clearly exchanging looks. Remus looked half smug and half desperate while Snape just looked horrified.

"What does it matter anyway?" I asked, suddenly angry that there was, clearly, something I did not know. "Because it's channeled through Voldemort, I won't go mad. It isn't strong enough to do that."

"Stupid, foolish boy!" Snape snapped. "There is more than one reason that the Cruciatus Curse is an Unforgivable! How many times have you been under it?"

"I don't know. It's not like I keep a diary. A handful of times, maybe. Not much more than that."

"A handful? Is that ten? Twenty? Thirty?"

I took a step backward, slightly fearful of Snape's anger. "Probably between ten and twenty. I don't know. But it's not more than twenty."

Some of Snape's anger seemed to dissipate at that. He turned to Remus. "It's not that, then."

Remus shook his head. "Even if it isn't caused by the Cruciatus, it could still be. The Cruciatus isn't the only cause. It happens to Muggles, too."

By this point, I was lost and that made me angry. Remus and Snape were talking in riddles, but it was clearly about me. Something that was an after-affect of the Cruciatus? "What are you talking about?" I snapped. "There's nothing wrong with me!"

"No?" Snape asked coldly. "There absolutely nothing wrong with you?" I should have known better than to trust him when his voice was so soft and smooth. "Then why don't you have a run on the path around those swings?"

My leg was still sore, but I would not back down when Snape was so clearly challenging me. So I left the two men to argue it out themselves and headed to the path. But before I had even made one full loop of the path at a full run, I fell into the dirt. It felt as though my entire leg had just given way under me, that it did not have the strength to carry my weight anymore. Immediately, Remus was at my side and helping me onto my feet. I realized that I could stand on my own, despite the feeling of weakness in my leg, but I chose to lean on the werewolf. If I had fallen once, I could fall twice.

"We should bring him back to headquarters," Snape told us, as Remus helped me limp back toward the man. "Even if his problem is not so serious, the boy cannot be trusted to be able to run from trouble and the fool Ministry will not allow him to defend himself."

"I'm fine," I protested weakly, still clinging slightly to Remus. "It was just a leg cramp, that's all."

Snape glared at me. "I'm sure that's why you're attached to Lupin like a barnacle - because absolutely nothing is wrong with you."

I could not come up with an argument against that particular approach, as it was true and undeniable. In any case, I released Remus and found that I could stand on my own. "I will not see a Mediwizard."

"Of course not. The Boy-Who-Lived must have special treatment."

Remus looked livid at that comment. "He's embarrassed, Severus!" Snape's eyes trailed on me for a moment. "Anything he does in our world is front page news! And do we really want everyone to know about this?"

Snape looked at Remus levelly. "I suppose not. Very well. We will bring him to headquarters. I will do as much diagnostic scanning as I can. Depending, we will have Albus bring him back to school and see what Poppy can do. If worse comes to worse, we can do things the Muggle way. You make a point. We oughtn't let... my colleagues know what is happening."

I was still utterly and completely lost. I had no idea what they were talking about or how the next few months would change my life entirely. "I'm going back to Grimmauld Place?" I asked, my voice cracking.

Snape nodded. "That would be for the best. I have to get back to Hogwarts," he glared at Remus and me, as though we were keeping him from something desperately important, "but I will be there tonight. I can do scanning, as can Vance, then. Do try to not hurt yourself, Potter."

Remus took me back to Privet Drive and, for the first time, I realized I had an ever-so-slight limp when I walked. I suppose my clothing had even hid it from me. I tried questioning Remus as to what was wrong, but he refused to tell me, saying that we would discuss it that night with Snape and Emmeline Vance, an Order Mediwitch. We gathered my belongings, few that they were, and took the Knight Bus to London. From there we walked to Grimmauld Place and I tried to not feel self-conscious, but I imagined every eye on me as I stumbled on bits of broken pavement and, once, nearly fell to the ground, saved only by Remus' quick reflexes. I spent most of that afternoon as red as a tomato and watching my feet.