Harry Potter And The Fall Of Childhood

Chapter 2

Peace While You Can

"It is an unfortunate fact that we can secure peace only by preparing for war." - John F. Kennedy

***

Fortunately for Harry, Uncle Vernon never got a chance to exercise the thirst for revenge that glittered in his beady little eyes as he and his family were whisked off to Hogwarts. As soon as they arrived the Dursleys were hurried away by an awaiting Professor McGonagall to parts unknown. By the time Harry had dragged himself out of bed and downstairs the next morning for a very late breakfast, they were already gone. Harry couldn't decide whether to be pleased or alarmed by the devious twinkle in Dumbledore's eye when he later told Harry the news.

When Harry had come in, the ancient Headmaster was lounging comfortably at the staff table, sipping tea and watching sunbeams dance in his beard. Harry paused a moment in the doorway, struck momentarily by the great dichotomy that was this man. Those blue eyes had seen so much, witnessed the rise and fall of Grindelwald, then Voldemort. And yet that sparkle, that childlike wonderment at the simplest thing, like a stray beam of golden summer sun, still shone in the Headmaster's lined face. Harry hoped fleetingly that in a year, in five years, he would still be able to take such pleasure in the world, in the very act of living as Dumbledore seemed to do.

"Ah, Mr. Potter. A good morning to you," Dumbledore called cheerily, effectively breaking Harry out of his darkening thoughts. "Will you join me for some breakfast? The elves have truly indulged today."

Harry hesitantly took a seat next to Dumbledore, accepting the proffered teapot with a murmured thanks. He glanced about the room as he buttered his toast, and noted to himself how completely strange it was to sit at this table, several feet above the rest.

The hall was also echoingly empty, which was what first prompted Harry to ask about his relatives, and then Dumbledore's somewhat worrisome answer. Harry didn't want to think about going back to the Dursleys next summer, or later this summer for that matter, new "cottage" in a typically Dumledoreian vague location or not. None of them had been hurt at all in the brief battle (the Death Eaters had ignored them entirely and made straiht for Harry and Mrs. Figg) but they were probably in something of a tizzy over the destruction of their beloved home and their forced relocation. He sighed inwardly at the thought of the retribution they would surely reap.

As if sensing his unease, Dumbledore smiled pleasantly at him and added, almost casually, "And as for you, my dear boy, I'm afraid you'll have to spend the remaining six weeks of the summer here at the castle. I hope that won't be too arduous a difficulty for you, hmm?"

Harry grinned and Dumbledore winked.

"That's what I thought," he said, refilling Harry's teacup. "Now, onto slightly less pleasant matters. I know you promised to write to Sirius or myself as soon as your scar pained you, but I just wanted to check and make sure. You've had no dreams, no pains?"

"No," Harry said, frowning. "And, er, this may sound a little odd, but that makes me feel uneasy."

"Not at all, not at all." Dumbledore nodded as if silently confirming something. "Voldemort's silence worries me as well. Granted, he has just returned to his body after a prolonged absence, but still, yes, quite worrisome. Aside from the attack on you and your relatives, where he himself did not appear, he has done nothing."

"Could he be, you know, planning?" Harry asked carefully. "I mean, he wants to take over Britain, right?"

"If not the world." Dumbledore smiled grimly at Harry's startled look. "Yes, Tom Riddle has never lacked ambition. But no, I don't believe he's planning. He had nearly fourteen years to think and plan, and I'm sure he did quite long and thoroughly. I have no doubt that he has his moves set for years to come."

"Then why isn't anything happening, sir?"

"A question which I and several others have been pondering all summer. He has not even called his Death Eaters. Not a peep out of him. Personally, I believe there is something going on with Voldemort himself, either physically or magically. Perhaps unforeseen consequences of Priori Incantetum, though I don't think..." He trailed off, obviously deep in thought. "In any case," he resumed, eyes refocusing on Harry, "we should be thankful for the respite, for the coming war will not be an easy one."

"Are they ever?" Harry was half joking, half deadly serious.

"No. No, Harry, they are not." Silence reigned for long minutes as they just sat together, sipping their tea and contemplating the coming darkness on that beautiful midsummer morning. Until, "Enough of that." Dumbledore set down his cup and rose. "I'm sorry to leave you, Mr. Potter, but I have work to attend to." He sighed dramatically, gazing up at the achingly clear sky, "No matter how beautiful the day is. I'm sure you have homework you can occupy yourself with?"

"Yes. I haven't started yet." Harry admitted, feeling a flush creep up his neck.

"Well, I'm sure being locked away from all your books doesn't help." Harry couldn't quite interpret Dumbledore's tone. It was a confusing mix of compassion, annoyance, and was that a hint of self-recrimination he detected?

"Er, no." Harry smiled shyly up at his Headmaster. "But Headmaster, I have a question."

"Yes?"

Harry smiled, feeling suddenly that Dumbledore already knew what he was going to ask and was simply humoring him. "Profes--er, Remus. Is he still here? It's just I haven't seen him since third year and I sort of wanted to say hullo and all."

"I'm sorry, Mr. Potter. Remus left shortly after we arrived last night. It was merely chance that allowed him to be present when I was made aware of your danger. He insisted on coming along to Privet Drive, but he had other pressing matters to return to."

"Oh." Harry smiled to cover his disappointment. "Thank you, Headmaster."

"You're welcome. Now then, you get working on those assignments of yours." Dumbledore half turned, then seemed to remember something. "Oh, and Harry? Do please stay within the castle grounds. And it might be better if you remained inside as much as possible. If you wish to practice Quidditch, please do so in the early morning or late evening when you won't be quite so visible."

"Yes, sir." Harry said, smiling in delight at the unexpected prospect of summertime Quidditch.

"Good lad," Dumbledore said, and unexpectedly ruffled Harry's hair before sweeping out of the hall.

***

Harry sat back and stretched, amusing himself by counting the creaks and groans from his back and shoulders. He was starting to wonder how Hermione managed to not be a hunchback after all the endless hours she spent at the very table Harry currently occupied in the back corner of the Hogwarts library. For the first time in his life, Harry had both the time and the bountiful resources of the library to complete his summer essays. He was somewhat disturbed to realize that he was actually enjoying himself as he prowled the shelves, searching for just the right book with the perfect tidbit of information to round out his paper on the seven types of concealment and illusionary charms. He wondered what Ron would say, and grinned at the mental image of his best friend looking at him like he had gone nutters and offering to ship him off to St. Mungo's for professional help.

Harry had, upon request from Dumbledore, written only the vaguest of letters to Ron and Hermione, explaining that there had been an attack, and he was fine, but that he would not be able to send or receive owls for the rest of the summer.

"Owl post may be fast and convenient, but it is one of the easiest ways to let your enemy in on your secrets," Dumbledore had said when Harry asked why. "I'm afraid you'll have to content yourself with assuring your friends of your safety. Besides, the fewer owls sent, the less chance Voldemort will find out exactly where you are. He will not stay inactive forever, and he may waste valuable time searching out the new location of the Dursleys, thinking you'll be there."

It made sense, and Harry had willingly complied. But now, as his birthday approached, he was somewhat saddened at the prospect of no presents. Gifts were something he was just starting to get used to receiving, and he would sorely miss the birthday wishes of his small circle of friends.

"Ah, Mr. Potter."

Harry let out a decidedly unmanly shriek and dropped his pen as he scrambled for his wand.

"Oh my," the hazy form of Professor Binns said as he stepped the rest of the way through the back wall of the library, "I did not mean to startle you."

"Oh, hullo, Professor." Harry said, putting his wand away and trying to control his thundering heartbeat. "It's fine, I was just deep in thought."

"A rarity for a young man of your age," the ghost noted, smiling absently at his student. "I was just passing through to the staff room. There's usually no one back in this corner of the library during the summer to be alarmed by my method of travel." He gestured vaguely at the solid wall of heavy stone he had just entered through.

"Er, no, I suppose not." Harry said, awkwardly shifting from foot to foot.

"Well then, Mr. Potter, I'll leave you to your thoughts."

"Sure." Harry said, for the first time really closely studying the ghost. His outline was an odd sort of liquid solid, shifting yet seeming immovable. He glowed faintly light blue, and Harry was abruptly reminded of the shades of his parents, of Cedric, that he had seen only a month before.

"Professor?" he asked suddenly.

Binns turned back from the end of the row of shelves. "Yes, Mr. Potter?"

"Er, I don't want to be rude or anything, and I hope this doesn't offend you but I was just wondering..." he paused, unsure of how to phrase his question.

"Yes?" The ghost driftwalked halfway back to him. "If there's something I can help you with, Mr. Potter, I'd be only to glad to."

"Well, I was just wondering if you could explain some things about ghosts. Like where they come from, and why only some people become ghosts. Things like that." Harry let out a deep breath, the things he hadn't even realized he'd been wondering about finally out in the open.

"Oh." Binns looked momentarily startled, before coming the rest of the way back to Harry and perching bizarrely an inch above the edge of a chair. "Now those are some complicated questions you have there, but I can do my best to answer them."

Harry sat down in his own chair, his heart beating a little faster. Seeing his parents in June, speaking to them, however briefly, had sparked a longing in him. He was surprised he'd never thought about his parents having ghosts before. It was glaringly obvious, and tantalizingly appealing. "So why do only some people become ghosts when they die?"

"Well, first, you must realize that no one is entirely sure on all the mechanics of the ghostly existence. There are theories, yes, and good theories. But keep in mind this is all educated speculation." Binns paused, and Harry had to suppress a laugh as the ghost professor reached for notes that weren't there, looked momentarily lost, and then gathered himself and continued. "People who become ghosts after death are usually killed quite unexpectedly and are left with unfinished business on this plane, are somehow magically or ethereally trapped here, or are unusually attached to their lives' and routines' as I was. This last is the most rare, for according to the magiphysicists, when a person dies their soul is disconnected not only from their body but also from this plane. They are sent to another world entirely where the soul itself is the basis of form and life. Now, the soul in this plane is what animates a ghost. It is theorized that we spirits are so nearly transparent and can pass through physical objects of this world because we are already partly in that other plane I spoke of. Our souls just haven't entirely been separated from this plane, and thus we are in a way in two realities at once."

"What about the first way you said, the sudden death?" Harry cut in. All the talk of souls and planes was interesting enough, but it wasn't really what he was going for.

"Well, now you're dealing with all kinds of variables," the professor said, sliding easily back into his lecture mode. "The presence of a spirit in this world after death depends on length of the person's life, as well as many other factors, such as whether they had family, important commitments, that sort of thing. And, perhaps most importantly, cause of death. I had a great aunt who was killed by a muggle bus, and though she was well advanced in years, she--"

"What about Avada Kedavra?" Harry interrupted again, leaning forward eagerly.

"Eh?" Binns blinked at him for several long moments, his train of thought completely derailed. "Avada Kedavra you say? Yes, I think I understand now." For the first time Harry saw something of an emotional expression cross his professor's face, a sort of sad, wistful smile. "I'm very sorry to tell you this, Mr. Potter, but the Avada Kedavra curse isn't just Unforgivable because it kills. It acts like a magical scythe, completely and utterly severing any and all ties with this plane and the body itself. The soul is rather forcibly sent to the next plane of reality." He paused, studying Harry's crestfallen face. "Or so the theory goes," he added, almost comfortingly. "Who knows if its actually true? After all, there are no ghosts of Avada Kedavra victims to ask, which in itself is part of the proof..." He trailed off as if just realizing what he was saying, and rose suddenly to his feet. "If that is all you need, Mr. Potter, I really should be going."

"Oh. Er, yes, of course. Thank you, Professor," Harry heard himself say as if from far away. And from equally far away he watched Binns practically flee through the nearest bookshelf. At any other time his professor's discomfiture at coping with a student's personal life would be amusing. But now...now it only made his crushed hopes taste that much more bitter.

Harry stood, mechanically gathering his parchment and quills. He doubted he'd be getting any more work done today. Right now he just wanted to go curl up in his bed and look at his photo album for the rest of the afternoon. After all, unless he purposely went out and dueled with Voldemort once again, he would never see his parents, never hear their voices again.

***

Harry spent the next couple of days doing his best to avoid the few people who were actually in the castle. In past summers, solitude was the last thing Harry had wanted, but now he just wanted to be alone. The truth was that he knew the instant Dumbledore saw him, the kind hearted professor would do his best to cheer Harry up, and Harry really didn't want to be cheerful. He realized, with a leaden weight of guilt, that he had never really thought about his parents in terms of Lily and James Potter, not just the people who should have raised him. Their lives had been brutally and unfairly cut short, and here he was upset over their failure to visit him in spirit form. He felt like the worst son any parent could ask for.

So, it was quite a shock to Harry's mood to come into the Great Hall that Saturday morning and be assaulted from every side by color and noise. Taking a nervous step backwards and blinking rapidly, Harry made out a veritable sea of red, and that particular violently crimson color could belong to only one family.

"Er, Ron?" he tried carefully, his ears still ringing with the blast of noise.

"Happy birthday, Harry!" Ron exclaimed, pushing his way through the crowd.

"Huh?" Harry took another step back, goggling at the mass of people surrounding him.

There were scattered chuckles and some suggestions offered up.

"Give 'em a good thump. That'll wake him up."

"You think he's finally cracked? I mean, a few weeks with just Dumbledore and Filch could do that."

"Oh, let him be." This last was from Mrs. Weasley, who pushed her way through behind Ron and then enveloped Harry in a motherly hug. "Happy birthday, dear."

"It's my birthday?" Harry asked stupidly, for the first time noting the extensive redecorating done in the Great Hall. Balloons hovered near the ceiling, trailing sparkling strands in the Gryffindor colors. Most of the tables were covered with an assortment of snacks, personal belongings, decorating supplies, and, on the head table, an absolutely awe-inspiring mountain of presents. "You guys threw me a party?"

"By George, I think he's got it!"

"Of course we did," a new voice put in, and Alicia Spinnet appeared at Harry's shoulder. "It was actually the Weasleys who put it all together, invited everybody and got the supplies and such."

Harry looked around more slowly this time and really took in the people surrounding him. Alicia hadn't been kidding when she'd said "everybody." There was the entire Quidditch team, a regiment of Weasleys, all his fifth year dorm mates and their feminine counterparts, and--

"Snuffles!"

"Hmph. So nice to be appreciated." Remus Lupin said mildly as Harry knelt down to exchange greetings with the enormous black dog at his side.

"Hi, Pro--er--Remus." Harry grinned up at him, standing. "I just haven't seen, uh, your dog in a while."

"Understandable." Remus said, his lips twitching.

"Well?" an impatient voice cut in from behind. "Are we all going to just stand here or are we going to make this party a party?"

There was a general holler of agreement as the crowd dispersed about the room, many of them stopping to give Harry a slap on the back or a birthday hug. He was getting overwhelmed by the sheer number of people who would call themselves his friends when he realized who was missing.

"Er, Ron, where's Hermione?" he asked carefully. He suspected he knew, but he really was curious.

Ron scowled. "Her parents actually took her to Bulgaria to visit Krum. She said she's very sorry and she'll see you on the first day of school. She owled me your present."

Harry decided not to inquire further, and was pleased to see the perfect distractions approaching. "Hey, I didn't know Bill and Charlie were in England."

Ron brightened. "Charlie's just on vacation, but Bill's actually here for a while. He's transferred to the Diagon Alley Gringott's. Mum said he wanted to be closer to the family." He hesitated, and then said, looking at Harry out of the corner of his eyes, "Especially in these times."

Harry was glad for the excuse not to answer as the two eldest Weasleys arrived. Greetings were exchanged, and after Bill had waxed enthusiastic about his new job ("You know, I spent so many years breaking security curses, I never thought how fun it would be to cast them!"), he and Ron were called away by the twins to consult on the music selection.

"So, how're the dragons?" Harry asked, knowing this was the perfect conversation starter with Charlie.

He was not disappointed as a broad grin split the amiable face. "Oh, they're just brilliant. Especially that Norwegian Ridgeback you and Ron found for me. Norbert. He's helping me out with my new project."

"Project?" Harry was confused. He'd thought that Charlie just raised and cared for dragons. "What are you doing?"

"Oh, it's truly fascinating," Charlie said, sounding remarkably like Hermione when she talked about Arithmancy. "You see, no one really knows how dragons communicate. In fact, there's quite the controversy about their intelligence at all. Some say they're dumb as a troll, and others say they rival us in the brains department. The easiest way to figure it out is to see how they communicate with each other, 'cause it's obvious that they do...somehow."

"So what do you do?" Harry was really quite curious. He hadn't thought about that Hungarian Horntail he'd had to outmaneuver last year as a true thinking, sentient creature.

"Well, I'm trying to learn dragon. Norbert is being particularly useful, as I said. It's obvious that he understands English, 'cause he follows simple commands and reacts to the emotions of his handler. We just need to reverse that. And since Norbert is a particularly smart dragon, we're using him as our primary subject."

"Any luck?"

Charlie's grin faltered slightly. "Well, not exactly. See, we can't hear them."

"Beg pardon?" Harry paused in his inspection of the nearest tray of snacks to glance back at Charlie. "How can you learn the language if you can't hear it?"

"That's just the thing, it's not an auditory language." Charlie's enthusiasm seemed to return en force. "It's something else...something we haven't quite pinned down yet. But really, it's very exciting. If we could communicate with dragons! Imagine the things they could tell us, the oral history they'd--"

"Right then!" a cheery voice said from behind Harry. "Enough of the winged ones, oh wrestler of flames. We thought Percy would be the only one we'd have to yell at for talking about work at a party."

Harry turned and grinned up at the twins. "Hullo, Fred, George."

"'Lo," George (Fred?) said, hooking an arm through Harry's.

"Come right along then," Fred (George?) chimed in, taking the other side.

Harry glanced back over his shoulder, giving Charlie an apologetic smile as he was hustled across the room to an abandoned corner. Charlie just laughed and winked before melting back into the crowd.

"Right then," the twin on the right said, "Now that we've got you alone--"

"We need to discuss a few things," the other said.

"Oh?" Harry asked, starting to grin as he began to suspect the subject of the coming discussion.

"We wanted to thank you again for the generous--"

"Truly kind and benevolent--"

"A great act of humanity it was--"

"For giving us that money."

"We've put it to good use, as you'll see if you look at these contracts--"

"Eighteen months, it says--"

"Just a year and a half and we'll have our own shop--"

"In Diagon Alley first--"

"But we have plans to branch out--"

"And we wanted you to be a silent partner."

Harry's head spun, both from the offer itself and the act of whipping his head around to watch each twin as they batted the conversation between them like a Bludger.

"Silent partner? What exactly does that mean?" he asked, a little worried.

"Oh, nothing much more than your signature--"

"And maybe a few endorsements--"

"But that's ages away, really--"

"Just sign the contract stating that you willingly gave that money for the purposes of backing Weasley's Wizard Wheezes--"

"And that's about it." Fred (George?) finished up, with a flourish of a quill under Harry's nose.

"I won't have to do anything except sign?"

"That's why its called 'silent,' mate--"

"Quiet as a mouse--"

"Just your signature and you get free access to all products--"

"And immunity to beta testing, of course--"

"Just right on this line."

Harry sighed and signed. He really didn't see why not, he trusted the twins. And really, there wasn't much he could do with the two of them both working at him.

"Brilliant!"

"Fabulous!"

"We'll give you periodic updates of how things are going--"

"But really gotta run right now--"

"We added a little something to the pumpkin juice, need to be close to observe the action--"

"See ya, Harry!"

Harry watched the twins retreat across the room, feeling like he'd just been run over by the Hogwarts Express. "Right. I'll just...stand here then," he muttered, his brain finally catching up to the conversation.

A soft giggle behind him had Harry spinning around, his face already heating up.

"Oh, hi, Parvati."

"Padma," she said, rising from her seated position in the darkened corner where Fred and George had dragged him. "I'm Parvati's twin, remember?"

"Oh, right. Sorry." Harry shifted awkwardly. He really had no clue whatsoever what to say to her...to any girl aside from Hermione for that matter. "Er, having a good time?"

"Oh, sure. It's just a little weird. I'm a Ravenclaw, you know. I don't know most of these people." She paused, smiling up at him, "Happy birthday, by the way."

"Thanks. I could, y'know, tell you who everybody is. If you wanted, I mean."

"I'd like that." She smiled shyly up at him.

"Right. So you saw Fred and George just now, and I really don't think they need any introduction. Just don't ask me to tell them apart, I'm usually wrong."

"Oh, believe me, I understand. Sometimes I swear Parvati and I get ourselves mixed up in our own minds, the way we never get our real names." Her smile turned impish and Harry grinned back.

"And those three over there are the Gryffindor chasers. That's Katie, Angelina, and Alicia. Ron says Alicia will probably be Head Girl this year. And I'm sure you remember Professor Lupin over there with the rest of the Weasleys. The guy with the long hair is Bill, he's their eldest, and that one is Charlie.." Harry relaxed as he talked, relating little anecdotes and stories about each person in the room. He and Padma spent a pleasant half hour chatting away in the corner, mostly about Harry's friends. Harry was pretty proud of himself. He usually had a hard time maintaining any sort of conversation with someone he'd just met and here he was gabbing away like Padma was an old friend.

He was a little disappointed, then, when Ron came over and pulled him off to open presents...but not too disappointed. The pile of presents really was something to marvel at. He waved apologetically over his shoulder at Padma, who just nodded and called a friendly, "Happy birthday."

***

Harry trudged tiredly up the stairs towards Gryffindor tower. That mound of presents wasn't looking so great when he had to carry everything up seven floors. But he wouldn't trade the quietly contented feeling in his chest for anything. It had been a beautiful day, full of friends and a mini Quidditch tournament. His only regret was that he hadn't been able to actually speak to his Godfather in his human form. Remus and Snuffles had left right after dinner, claiming assignment from Dumbledore. Harry would really have liked to thank them for the box of his mother's things they'd given him. Remus had explained that both she and James had put a lot of things in storage before they went into hiding, and the Ministry had simply added the few possessions which survived Voldemort's attack. Remus himself had not wanted to disturb anything, but had decided years ago to wait until Harry was old enough to take care of things.

"Besides, you don't really have anything of your mother's, do you?" he'd asked, his eyes kind but sad.

Aside from that box, Harry had gotten a veritable cornucopia of items. Ron and Hermione had gone with the old standbys of books and candy, while Parvati and Lavender had given him an assortment of muggle and magical clothes that Harry doubted he would ever wear. When he'd politely pointed out that most of them, particularly the muggle pants and shirts, looked a little too small, the girls had only giggled and nudged each other. He'd have to think about that, but Harry had a bad feeling about it.

Dumbledore himself had made an appearance late in the afternoon, and had apologized for his paltry offering. Harry would hardly call the prefect badge he'd been presented with" paltry." His only concern there had been Ron and his jealousy, but his friend had just smiled and said,

"Better you than me, mate."

Well, that and the inch thick sheaf of parchment that came with the badge, explaining everything from setting passwords to point values to the monthly meetings. There was also a substantial list of new priviliges, consisting mostly of passwords to an assortment of bathrooms, lounges, and even one private garden. It was pretty exciting, but Harry still wondered if he'd do a good job keeping his peers in line. He just hoped his female counterpart for the fifth year Gryffindors, and the two sixth year Gryffindor prefects whom he knew by name if not by sight, would be good company. He wasn't too worried about the fifth year, though, as the choice seemed glaringly obvious.

All in all, it had been a truly wonderful day, the best birthday Harry could ever recall. He paused to give a tired, but cheery greeting to the Fat Lady, before heaving his load into the common room. He considered opening the box of his mother's things, but he was just too exhausted and he had a feeling that that venture would be something of an emotional roller coaster. It wasn't something he wanted to try when just staying vertical was an effort.

After packing away his new belongings in his trunk, Harry crawled into bed with a heartfelt sigh. That warm feeling still lingered in his chest and he intended to savor it while he could in comfort and quiet. He had an inkling that he wouldn't get opportunities like this very often from now on. But he wasn't going to dwell on that tonight. Tonight he just wanted to enjoy the peace, the knowledge that there really were people in the world who cared for him and wanted to celebrate his special day with him. Harry scrunched his pillow up under his cheek and let out a contented sigh. It was these moments, he thought as he drifted off, these precious times when his heart was light and his mind easy, they were the true strength behind every day of his life.