Secrets Shared

Secrets Shared

The dormitory in Gryffindor Tower was motionless and mostly quiet. Harry, who had been lying on his back, slowly forced his eyes open. Remembering it was Saturday, he snapped them shut again and laid motionless for another few minutes while the cool autumn breeze pleasantly chilled his face. It was early and the sun had not yet risen above the horizon. Harry was in no hurry to start the day. It was a Hogsmeade weekend and soon there were to be throngs of students around the school generating an almost electric buzz in anticipation of mostly innocent mirth and merriment. Harry had no intention of going into the nearby wizard town today. Lately, he had grown somewhat detached from the youthful amusements that his schoolmates enjoyed. In fact, Harry was feeling very much older than his years.

Little by little, Harry was becoming vaguely aware of very early morning sounds: that of Ron lightly snoring and songbirds just beginning to sing. As his focus sharpened, there was another, more distant sound that he could barely make out. It was a painful, animal-like whine. Harry rose from his four-poster bed and knelt by the open window, cocking his head slightly till he could clearly make out that the noise was coming from Hagrid's cottage.

Harry thought of waking Ron, but they had been playing Wizard's Chess till well after midnight, and he looked as though it would have taken great effort. He dressed quickly and hurried downstairs through the Gryffindor Common Room. Navigating Hogwarts' labyrinth of ever changing staircases and halls, Harry was doing his best to ignore Peeves, who was pelting him with rotting crabapples and off-color limericks. After a few minutes he was out of the castle and crossing the span to Hagrid's cottage. In the dew-laden grass, he could clearly make out a small, fresh set of footprints. He looked up and saw that it was Hermione, who was just approaching Hagrid's door. With a whistle, Harry caught her attention and he jogged up to her.

"You're up early", he said softly. "Did you hear that wailing?"

"Good morning, Harry. What wailing are you...Oh! You're talking about the music coming from inside?"

"Music? No, no, Hermione. I'm talking about that howling screech...it sounds sort of like when Mrs. Norris got her tail caught in the..."

"For goodness sake, Harry!" Hermione said with a scowl. "They're bagpipes. Hagrid is trying to teach himself how to play. Try to be civil and supportive!"

With that, Hermione rapped on the large knotty door and silence fell upon the cottage. Hagrid opened the door with a beaming smile. "Greetings, Hermione! Morning 'Arry! And a beautiful morning it is, isn't it? 'Ow about a spot of tea? The water's on."

"Thank you, Hagrid. I'd love some. Your playing is getting much better! The improvement is obvious."

As he poured the tea, the half-giant blushed furiously. "Very kind of you to say so, Hermione. It's a bit harder than I thought it would be, but I'm enjoying m'self just the same.

"Nothing worthwhile ever comes easy," she encouraged. Hermione and Harry settled in at Hagrid's table. When seated, the tabletop was almost up to their chin. Out of well-practiced politeness, Hermione helped herself to a tea biscuit, which was nearly the size of a brick, and only slightly lighter. Opened on the table was a dirty and dog-eared copy of "Learning to Play the Bagpipes; The Hard Way! Book 7 of The Award Winning Series by Angus McEleney Showing The Muggle Method of Musical Instrument Mastery". Upon one page was a highlander in full regalia. He played four bars of music on his set of bagpipes, tapping his toe and swinging his tassels. The music emanating from the page was barely audible and sounded like a music box. When he finished he smiled and with an outstretched hand, invited the reader to do the same. Hagrid flipped the book shut as he sat on a stool.

Harry looked over to Hagrid's easy chair and saw the set of bagpipes. They were predictably bigger than any he had ever seen before, nearly as large as he. Each pipe looked as though it was carved from a sturdy table leg. "Hagrid, I never knew you to have an appreciation for music."

"Oh, I dabble from time to time. I'm pretty good with the flute, if I do say so myself. At least Fluffy seems to enjoy it."

"Oh, yeah!" Harry recoiled a bit at the memory of the huge three-headed dog that was nearly the end of him and his friends.

"These were a gift from my Great Uncle Horace. Had 'em made special by a bloke who normally made church pipe organs. Genuine English Oak, they are!" As he said this, Hagrid patted the tartan bag, which was the size of a wild boar and squeaked under his touch. "I've 'ad the pipes since I was a wee lad, when I was no bigger than you."

"Newborn," Harry thought to himself.

"Never very good at them, but I've dusted them off and decided to give 'em another try." With a mischievous smile, he said, "I'm trying to make a guest feel at home."

"Uh, oh! What now?" Hermione's words were sharp and unusually direct.

"What do you mean by that, Hermione?" Hagrid looked a bit hurt, but realized that history was against him.

Hermione feeling terrible at the prospect of having hurt her dear friend said, "I'm sorry, Hagrid. I meant nothing by it. Who is your guest?"

Feeling fully somewhat redeemed, Hagrid winked, smiled and held up his index finger, as if to say, "Wait here just a moment". He precociously trotted out with a skip in his step. Hermione rolled her eyes with a look of resignation and sipped her tea. Moments later, the door creaked opened and Hagrid sidled his head around the edge. With a boyish grin, he softly said, "C'mon out now young ones, but lower yer voices and try not to make any sudden movements. She gets a bit jittery around strangers."

Hermione and Harry immediately recognized this as Hagrid-speak for "We will now be taking our lives into our own hands". They very slowly and very quietly made their way to the door. The magnificent animal right outside was dazzling in the glorious morning sunlight.

Hermione's mouth gaped open in complete astonishment. Harry, though also thoroughly stunned, managed to utter the words, "It's a griffin!"

"Very good, 'Arry!" Hagrid said in a whispered voice. "Yes, she is a Scottish Highland griffin and 'er name is Faith."

The griffin was nearly as tall as Hagrid. Most of her body was clearly that of a powerful and muscular lion, but with the head and wings of an eagle. Its tail swished back and forth nervously. Faith's wings were tucked in at her sides and ran the length of her body. She would occasionally give them a flap, which thumped the air and sent Harry's glasses flying from his head. Her eagle eyes were large and piercing. Her color was a bright brown, nearly golden. Harry looked at her massive beak with awe and thought that it could easily snap a large tree branch in two.

"She belongs to a pal of mine, Daphne Darkwaters, who runs a griffin farm North of Helmsdale. After getting Professor Dumbledore's okay, I asked her if I could borrow one for class. She was only too happy. She's very proud of them..."

"Hagrid...," Hermione interrupted nervously and got to the point that concerned her most immediately, "Er,...exactly what do griffins, uh.... eat?" Her meaning was clear to Harry who could see Hermione was feeling somewhat intimidated by the massive creature. She looked to Hagrid for some words of reassurance.

"Well, they're not overly picky. A griffin will eat pretty much anything they can catch and kill."

Hermione gasped audibly and her eyes widened to twice their normal size.

"Oh, you needn't fret, Hermione. Despite them bein' hunters 'n killers 'n all, griffins are as gentle as kittens to people. Merlin himself first magically crossbred them. He felt at ease enough with griffins to let them protect the royal children. They are very clever and loyal, they are. Merlin wanted to ensure that King Arthur's castle would be guarded from wild dragons and other beasts of the age while he was gone. Personally, I would have worked towards domesticatin' the dragons m'self..."

"So they represent no danger to people?", asked Harry.

"Dragons? No, not if you know what you're..."

"No, Hagrid, I meant griffins."

"Oh, no, 'Arry. Certainly not. Not a whit of trouble. Elsewise Daphne wouldn't have let her fly here."

"She...she flew here on her own?" Hermione stammered.

"That's right. Like owls, they have a keen homing instinct. They need to be shown the way to a place just once, then they'll be able to find it again, even many years later."

"She's been to Hogwarts before?"

"As a matter of fact, some ten years ago I rode her here myself. I was running late from holiday and Daphne loaned me a mount. It was a fantastic ride! She's quite a strong flier. Carried me as though I was a child! After we got here, I fed her, let her rest for the night and in the morning I just said, 'It's time for you to go home, Faith!' She was off in a flash! Yes, great sense of direction she has. You two mind her whilst I bring her something from the meat locker."

Hagrid walked away before either of them could muster a protest, catching them quite by surprise. The folly in Hagrid's last sentence alone caught them off guard. Harry and Hermione looked at each other, then slowly turned to face the massive creature in front of them. Mind her? How could they stop this beast from doing anything she wanted to do? Only now, without Hagrid beside them, could they truly appreciate how dwarfed they were by comparison. The griffin looked at Harry and took a few steps towards him. Hermione reached in her robes for her wand, but Harry clutched her wrist before she could even think to use it. Both were holding their breaths in expectation of what might be the worst. Faith lowered her huge head to within inches of Harry's face. Her hot breath made Harry feel like he had just opened an oven door. Her eyes were enormous this close, nearly the size of dinner plates. A feeling of warmth penetrated Harry's body. It was as though Faith was actually looking into him and he was suddenly aware of his knees twitching slightly. After several moments of this face-to-face encounter, Faith closed her eyes, dropped her head a bit farther and nuzzled her beak into Harry's chest, knocking him slightly backwards. He nervously chuckled and began to stroke her head feathers.

"Go ahead and laugh, Harry. I'm still thinking she means to park you in her gizzard!"

"C'mon and pet her, Hermione. She's very gentle really."

"Thank you, really, but I've grown rather found of all of my limbs."

"You heard Hagrid. If he said she was harmless, then..."

"'Arry! She's taken to you!" Hagrid exclaimed. "Griffins are great judges of character and they don't normally give their affections that freely."

Hagrid had returned with an animal carcass draped over his shoulder, about the size of a small cow. Faith raised her head with a sniff. Her tail whipped furiously back and forth and she began bounding around Hagrid like a truck-sized puppy. The ground they stood on shook with every jump. The sight was enough to make even Hermione laugh.

"Down, girl! Behave yerself..."

The griffin inhaled deeply, threw her head back and let out an incredibly loud screech that broke two of Hagrid's windows.

"Oh, my stars!" Hermione yelped. "Harry, are my ears bleeding?"

"What's that? Deer feeding?" Harry answered with his hands cupped over his own ears, trying to stop the blinding ringing. Seconds later, he could still hear Faiths' voice echoing back from distant mountainsides.

"Well, we don't want that to happen again, do we? Here you are Faith." With a grunt, Hagrid tossed the meat off his shoulder. In a blur of speed, the huge griffin was on the meat before it hit the ground. The snapping and tearing was a bit much for Hermione, who was getting splattered from the feeding frenzy. Harry, on the other hand, watched the leviathan intently with awe and amazement. In less than a minute, the griffin was nearly finished with a meal that few men could scarcely have lifted.

"Hagrid, I've never heard anything that loud before!" Harry was speaking louder than usual, clearly trying to drown out the ringing still in his ears.

"That? Was just a squeak, really. You wouldn't want to be around if she cut loose a full bleat. It's a griffin's first weapon against their prey. Stuns 'em cold before the kill. It's said that a full griffin roar can start a lightning storm or an earthquake! Fortunately, there's not much call for it these days. There are no wild griffins and their breeders keep 'em far from their enemies. Daphne didn't think there was much of a chance that Faith would encounter any dragons on the flight here either."

Hermione excused herself, saying that she had to study for an upcoming Arithmancy exam, but she was clearly looking pale and queasy. Harry thought that he had better be going as well, but he was obviously in better spirits than his friend.

"Thanks for showing her to us Hagrid! I really enjoyed meeting her!"

Hagrid was bolstered by Harry's enthusiasm. "You're very welcome 'Arry. Tuesday's lesson will be on griffins, but if you feel up to it later, come on back and we might coax 'er into givin you a ride."

The walk back to the castle had Harry bouncing on the balls of his feet. Hermione, wand in hand, was using a cleaning charm to remove the blood from her clothes.

"What a magnificent animal! She was gorgeous! And did you see the way she tore at her food, Hermione? Boy, I'm glad she's on our side!"

"Yes, well, I'm not so sure...'Scourgify!'...She looked similar in appearance to a Hippogriff, didn't she?"

The change in Harry's demeanor was immediate and noticeable. The grin vanished from his face and after a pause, he answered, "Yeah, I guess."

"She's quite a bit bigger than Buckbeak though..."

"Why would you bring that up? Harry asked abruptly.

Hermione stopped dead in her tracks and looking at Harry, knit her brow slightly. "Harry, have I said something to upset you?"

"No, of course not! Listen, I've got something to do. I'll see you later."

Harry marched off in another direction, leaving Hermione somewhat hurt and bewildered. She normally had an idea as to what her friends were feeling, but she had no clue today. Harry was drifting in and out of these dark moods quite a bit lately. She decided that it was best not to pursue the matter and continued into the castle.

Harry walked the school grounds through most of the morning in a foul mood. Some people called out his name, but he ignored them. He occupied a few minutes throwing pebbles at the giant squid in the lake. He stopped when he imagined it to be something his cousin Dudley would have enjoyed. The unmistakable voice of a bird of prey pierced the air. From across the lake Harry saw what was most certainly an eagle flying towards the spot where he stood. As slow as the bird was flapping its wings, it didn't look as though they could sustain its bulk. For an instant, the large bird blocked out the sun, then circled three times over Harry's head before dropping a small package in his hands. The eagle called out twice again and then soared back across the lake and out of sight.

The package was official looking and was addressed to "Mr. Harry Potter, Hogwarts School of Magic". With some effort, Harry tore the package open. Inside were a small jewelry box and a rolled parchment bearing the wax seal of the Ministry of Magic. Harry opened the parchment and slowly read it, trembling in anger as he progressed.

By Order of the Ministry of Magic

In light of recent events and revelations regarding and surrounding the return of He Who Must Not Be Named, the Ministry posthumously grants Sirius Black a full pardon, acknowledging that he was wrongly imprisoned for a crime he did not commit. The ministry further acknowledges that it was his daring escape from Azkaban and his subsequent exploits that first revealed Peter Petigrew to be alive and the true murderer of 12 innocent people. For his sacrifice in this regard, and his ultimate sacrifice in battling the Death Eaters, he is awarded, again posthumously, Merlin's Cross, 2^nd Order.

Signed,

Cornelius Fudge

Ministry of Magic

By the time Harry finished reading, he was gritting his teeth hard enough to snap them at the root.

"How dare that son of a..." Two passing Ravenclaw first year girls stopped in their tracks and stared wide-eyed at him. Harry screamed at them and they fled. Opening the small, ornate box Harry held up the silver trinket hanging from a ribbon. "What right does that pompous, sanctimonious windbag have?" he thought to himself. He reread the parchment to make sure that there was no mention of a trial or a guilty verdict. Sirius was sent to Azkaban without the benefit of either. Further, he noted the absence of the word, "apology" in the order. No apology for taking away a decade of his Godfather's life. No apology for making Sirius Black a fugitive. No apology for keeping Harry from knowing his first happy home.

Harry again looked at the medal clutched within his now trembling, white knuckles. He took a deep breath and hurled it with a grunt as far out into the lake as his strength would carry it, which wasn't nearly far enough to his liking. The plop it made when it hit the mirror-like surface of the water was similarly unsatisfying. He turned his attention to the parchment and began tearing it apart. It took several minutes to turn the single sheet into a pile of confetti, which he also threw into the lake. As the bits floated along the surface, Harry mumbled, "Pardon Sirius if you feel it relieves your guilty conscious, Fudge, but I will never forgive you."

Much later, he was lying on his back under a large oak tree, aiming his wand at falling leaves and blasting them into flames in mid-air, when Ron came upon him.

"Harry! There you are! Is...is everything okay?"

"Why wouldn't it be? Harry said flatly.

"Well, mate, it's just that I, uh, met up with Hermione and, uh.."

"Just spit it out, Ron. She's gotten her feelings hurt again, eh?" Harry stood up, wiping the dirt from his robes.

"Well, sure, Harry. She knows you're angry at something, maybe her...it happens a lot lately, but she doesn't know why and you haven't been speaking much to either of us...."

"Could you think that maybe I just want to be ruddy well left alone?"

Ron frowned a bit and replied, "Sure. I understand, Harry, if that's what you want. We'd actually kind of given you wide berth since last year..."

"Since last year! There it is!" Harry's voice carried considerably farther than Ron was comfortable with. "One more time I've got to hear about it! Think about it! Run it through my head! Why doesn't she just come out and say it then? Why not get it over with?"

"What, Harry?" urged Ron. "Why doesn't she say what?"

"I TOLD YOU SO! Why doesn't she just say If you had just listened to me and ignored those damn dreams, your Godfather would still be alive today!"

Ron lowered his head slightly and opened his mouth to say something, but words escaped him. He raised an arm, as to put his hand on Harry's shoulder, but Harry furiously slapped it away. Without a word, Harry turned on his heel and marched off.

Harry ran to Griffindor Tower, through the common room and finally to his footlocker where he pulled out his invisibility cloak, which he immediately draped over himself. He walked back down through the common room unseen, where he heard several students whispering about him. A cocky second year referred to him by a nickname he would never have used to Harry's face: "Scarhead". Harry was slightly inclined to punch him, but decided that he really just wanted to be alone, to get away and to get there unnoticed.

Passing a few students along the way, he walked towards a secret passage in a third floor corridor that he had used only several times before, one of several that led from inside Hogwarts walls directly into Hogsmeade. The dark, dank passage was familiar to him, having used it several times during his third year before he had Sirius' permission to go. Once more, he walked up to the statue of a one-eyed witch.

Tapping the stone witch, Harry whispered, "Dissendium!" The statue's hump pulled back into the wall, revealing a dark passageway that aimed downward. Harry stowed his invisibility cloak just inside the passageway and hopped onto the long, slick, stone ramp. He slid for a while, before landing onto level dirt.

"Lumos!" The tip of Harry's wand provided some clarity to the twisting passageway. Harry jogged for ten minutes or so before arriving at the staircase that would take him to the hidden trap door behind the counter at Honeyduke's. Harry waited for several moments with his head next to the underside of the wooden floor. He listened and learned the rhythm of the counter attendant's footsteps. When he was sure he had an opportunity, he popped out from the trap door and stayed crouched till he was clear of the counter. He made his way outside without notice.

He made a B-line to the entrance of The Hog's Head Bar. Harry pushed his weight against the door, which gave way with a groan. Again, this was familiar to him; it was the room where "Dumbledore's Army" had its first meeting. The room was dark and smoky and it took a moment before his eyes could make out any detail. The woodwork was the color of ebony, not by design, but by what must have been hundreds of years of neglected grime. Everything in the room seemed sticky and dirty, which suited him just fine. There were only two other customers in the room, not unusual for this early in the day. Both were hooded and whispering in a dimly lit corner. He walked to the back of the bar and perched himself on the last stool. Reaching into his robes, he said, "Firewhiskey. Leave the bottle", and tossed several galleons on the counter. Although he had never attempted this before, Harry doubted little that he would be served. The bartender was the same scruffy fellow who Harry had first seen on his trip here with Ron and Hermione. In fact, he seemed to be wiping the same glass with the same dirty rag. The bartender raised an eyebrow in Harry's direction, then turned to fetch a bottle. Harry had caught a glimpse of recognition in the bartender's face, but he knew that it was this establishment's policy to respect their customer's privacy and ethics (or lack thereof). Harry appreciated the absence of conversation and preaching. He set the bottle and shot glass in front of Harry with a clunk and went back to his dirty rag and glass. Harry vigorously wiped the glass on his robe before filling it. He brought the rim close to his nose and found the odor nearly suffocating. He took his first small sip of hard liquor and was immediately nonplused. "This is awful!" he thought to himself. After a slight shudder, he realized that it had to be an acquired taste, since so many adults drank this stuff. He drank the rest of the glass in one gulp. It set his innards afire, from his tongue to his heart and he had to clench his jaws tight to fight the urge to vomit. He composed himself and set straight away to refilling the glass.

A few other patrons entered, none of them looked clean, respectable or honest, which Harry felt added to the ambiance. At the moment, Harry wanted to wallow in his own darker thoughts. He began to think of his miserable existence with the Dursleys. He thought of how dramatically his life had changed when he not only found out just a few short years ago that witches and wizards existed, but that he was counted in their number. He began to dwell on the terrible things that he had seen and experienced over that time. Harry raised the glass to his lips and gulped a second glass of firewhiskey, which he noted went down slightly easier than the first.

An ancient witch slowly entered the bar and made her way to the back. Harry saw she was hunched over and clad in long, torn, dirty rags. Her glove fingertips had all long been worn away. She sat a few stools from him, but paid him no heed, instead asking the bartender how much a glass of firewhiskey was. The bartender rather rudely barked out the price, and she began shuffling through her pockets. Her heavily lined face was pulled into a frown as it became evident that she could only scrape together a few knuts. The bartender had no patience for this and was about to throw her out when Harry blurted, "Give her a glass. She's with me." Even as low as he was feeling, Harry well remembered what it was like to have nothing except want. She raised her head to him, smiled (which Harry noticed was more void than tooth) and said, "I am very much obliged to you, young man".

The witch removed her ragged cloak and gloves, then moved to a stool nearer to Harry with apparent difficulty. He filled her glass as well as his own. She raised it to him and they both sipped. The old witch offered her hand to Harry. When he reached over to shake it, he noted how cold, withered and bony it was, and that her veins looked as though they were glued to the surface of her skin. She silently sipped her way through that glass, before Harry filled it again, as well as his. He was feeling warm and pleasantly at ease with his dour self and surroundings. He didn't mind at all when her cracking voice broke the silence with, "Strength ebbs from this cracked mortal shell, yet my sight has not yet dimmed. You, my young buck, are Harry Potter. What do you here?"

The whispered question didn't surprise him at all. He was, after all, the only teenager in the bar. Nor did the fact that she recognized him. That famous scar on Harry's forehead was as noticeable as a billboard, and at times, felt as heavy. What did surprise him a bit was his own answer.

"I came here to get drunk." It was the best he could come up with, considering how dim-witted he was beginning to feel.

"Looks as though you're off to a good start" she replied. "No friends with you today?"

"Aren't you my friend?"

"Oh, you bet I am, sonny!"

"And there you are! I've known you all of just a few moments, and you're already my pal! Do you know why?" he asked, beginning to noticeably slur his words.

She leaned toward him with a slight grin. "Why don't you tell me, Mr. Potter?"

"I will. It's because friendship is a meaningless charade." Harry's eyes were pointed in front of him, but not focused on anything in particular. He took another sip. "Friendship is the name we give to the illusion that we are not alone."

"Harry..."

"But we are all alone. We are born naked and cold and crying...and alone! It's pretty much the way we die in our beds and almost every moment between our beginnings and our endings are filled with woeful loneliness." Harry's voice rose slightly from the whisper he was sharing. He squinted his stinging eyes and sipped a bit more.

She leaned towards him and asked, "Why would a nice lad like yourself be saying such things?"

"You're much mistaken on that account, lady. I am not a "nice lad". I am an evil reprobate."

"Really?" She was smiling at him again.

"Absolutely. It is my conscience that keeps it in check. I know right from wrong and I choose to act virtuously, but my initial reaction is to take the wrong and easy choice."

"That doesn't make you evil, Harry. That makes you human."

Harry spoke slowly and softly again, "No, I am evil. I'm beginning to like saying it, too. Nor will I make any apologies for it either. It is all that life has left me. The urge to hurt...the need for revenge." He filled his glass yet again.

"No, Harry. Let's get you back to school. I think we've had quite enough now." The old witch rose to her feet with surprising ease.

"I don't think we have!" With that, he recklessly threw another glass of firewhiskey into his gullet. As he set the glass back down, he looked up and started to laugh heartily, not at the sight of an old hag, but of a rather pretty young lady with fire truck red, shoulder-length hair. "What are you doing here?" he asked with a chuckle.

"I'm here to keep an eye on you, of course" said Nymphadora Tonks. The sadness in her voice was palpable.

"Great! Let's have another!" he said as he happily reached again for the bottle, but Tonks clasped his wrist and said "Bartender! Let's settle up...on me." With that, she reached her freehand into the jeans beneath her rags and threw several galleons on the bar. She picked up Harry's money and stuffed it back into his robes. Tonks grasped Harry's upper arm and firmly hoisted him to his feet. The bright sunlight that awaited them on the cobblestone street was blinding. It was several moments before either of them could squint comfortably. Harry was rather unsteady, yet on they shuffled through the streets of Hogsmeade.

"This is no good. I can't bring you back to school in this state. Filch would love to get his hands on any drunken student, much less you."

"So would Shnape!" Harry hiccupped loudly, then giggled.

"If we keep you on the street much longer, you're sure to be spotted and word will get back anyway."

Harry stared at her and observed "You know what?"

"What?" responded Tonks, hoping for a constructive suggestion.

"You're really pretty".

"Oh, spare me, Romeo." Tonks rolled her eyes and changed her appearance back to that of an old woman. Harry chortled at the sight of her. When they came to the entrance of the Leaky Cauldron she pointed her wand at the back of Harry's neck and whispered "Fabricaro Elongus!" With that, Harry's robe sprouted an ample hood that she threw over his head. "Try keep your face hidden, Harry. It will make all else easier if you do." They entered the tavern and she sat Harry down in a chair towards the back of the room, then she turned to speak to Tom, the landlord. Harry was peeking through the slit of his new hood at people he recognized. Neville Longbottom was sitting with Seamus Finnegan, having a couple of butterbeers in the corner table. Other students were milling about involved in loud conversations. Several of them glanced at Harry, but with his face well hidden, their attentions returned to their groups.

Harry was thinking about trying to order another firewhiskey, when Tonks returned and prodded him up the back staircase to a room. She unlocked the door and reverted back to her normal face, although her hair was now robin's egg blue. Harry wondered if she even remembered what her natural hair coloring was.

"I want you to lay down and sleep, Harry. You have to be back at Hogwarts in just a few hours. I'll stay with you here and wake you when it's time to return."

Harry hopped onto the bed, kicked off his trainers, and leaned back on the headboard. He took a long deep breath and softly said, "I'm not going back. I'm through being the school freak."

"You can just stop that kind of talk now, thank you. You don't know what you're saying." With a quick wand move, reminiscent of an orchestra leader, Tonks drew all the curtains closed at once.

"Oh, I know exactly what I'm saying! I'm sick and I'm tired of the ogling, the whispering, and the finger pointing! 'There's the kid with the scar!' 'There's the bloke who speaks snake-eeze!' There's the nutter what hears voices in his head!' I don't belong here! I'm tired of the constant responsibility, the work, and the fact that at any given moment there are a good number of people out there who want to kill me!"

"And where would you go, Harry? Back to the Dursley's? Back to Privet Drive?"

"Ha! Fat chance! I don't know where I'd go, but anywhere would be better than this. I just hate my life! I can't take much more of it!" Harry's eyes reddened and were swelling slightly. There was now a note of desperation in his voice. "People have no idea what my life has been like. They don't understand. You know the first memory I have of being touched outside of anger was when Hagrid shook my hand. Ron was later, and when Hermione gave me a hug I saw stars! Before that was a lifetime of snide, evil remarks. Insults. Demeaning treatment. Hair-pulling. Slapping. Punching." His voice trailed off. Tonks rose and walked over to the bed and sat next to him. She wrapped her right arm around him and he laid his head on her shoulder. With his eyes closed, he said "I'm sorry, Tonks."

"It's ok. Really. I understand."

"Do you?" Two tears rolled down Harry's cheeks, but he pressed on. "I mean, I feel like I missed some really basic lessons early on. It's so easy for me to confuse a display of friendship with one of affection. I...I don't remember my mother's touch. I don't remember feeling that I ever belonged in a place that I called home. Early on, all I ever knew was utter contempt. I kept thinking, 'What's wrong with me?' It's made me feel dirty and unwanted...unlovable..."

"Harry," Tonks interrupted him with a little squeeze. "First, the Dursleys are some of the poorest excuses for Muggles I've ever seen. They are borderline sociopaths. It may not make it any easier for you, but you must know that there was nothing wrong with you. It was all their problem."

Harry swallowed, then gave a single nod.

"If ever they lay a hand on you again..."

Harry interrupted her. "Oh, it hasn't happened in a long time. I guess I'm getting too big."

She continued, "Anybody could understand how isolated you feel, Harry, but your circumstances aren't totally unique. You-know-who..."

"You mean Moldyvorte. You should say his name." Harry sniffed.

"Uh, yeah...him. He left many families broken. Look at what he did to Neville's family. Hagrid's never really known his parents either. That's probably why he so quickly attached himself to you. Being an orphan as well, he's adopted you into his own family of sorts. It's what you'll have to do, Harry. Set off anew and make a life, and maybe a family of your own."

"It's so hard..."

"It sure is. But it's hard for everybody. You're not alone. Many people care about you, Harry. I do, very much, and I'm going to help you in anyway I can." With that she kissed him on the top of his ruffled-haired head. "Please try and get some sleep now."

Harry sighed heavily and with closed eyes, slowly asked "Do you remember last Christmas at the Orders headquarters?"

"You bet. I had a wonderful time!"

"Early on, I believed that I was being manipulated by Who-Knows-You. I couldn't run away...I thought I was going to harm people... the Weasleys, Hermione, Sirius, the people who had been most kind to me...I couldn't allow that to happen...but I-I didn't know what to do. I was in a pate of stanic, uh, state of panic. Then the answer came to me. It was obvious. I don't know why I hadn't thought of it before. A feeling of peace and calm washed over me. I wrote notes to Ron and Hermione, thanking them for everything...explaining what I could. Then I set out to make everything right. To end the pain...the living nightmare." He raised his head, looked at Tonks and said, "Do you know what happens when you point a wand to yourself and say Avada Kedavra?"

Without missing a beat, Tonks looked back at him through her own watery eyes and replied, "Just a few blue sparks. Nothing really. At least that's what happened when I tried it."

Harry gasped. He felt an immediate kinship to her.

"But that's another story for another time...maybe. The thing is, Harry, that is the second time you came dangerously close to doing the absolute worst thing a wizard can do; taking an innocent life."

Harry immediately remembered how close he had come to killing Sirius himself. "But this time I had good reasons!"

"No, you did not! You thought you did, but were wholly mistaken." Tonks squeezed his harm close to the point of pain and continued loudly, "Listen, Harry, you've lived all of only seventeen winters. It may be difficult for you to appreciate that someday you'll be an adult, that you'll have a job, you may have a love of your own and a brood of snot-nosed little kids with wild hair..."

"I can't picture myself older."

"Most kids can't, but if you're lucky it'll happen to you. Death finds all of us, Harry, sooner or later. Life is already perversely short and horribly frail. There's no need to speed the process up. In the meanwhile, some really fantastic things, wonderful things will happen to you. It would be an unforgivable crime to throw away the most precious gift we have! And anyway, no matter what hardships come your way, they pale in comparison to the grief and pain your death would cause the people who care for you. I want you to promise me, Harry...swear by all you hold dear, if ever you feel like you are on the path of self-destruction, that you'll contact me so I can beat some sense into your empty head."

Harry laughed with relief. "It's a deal!" He shook her hand that was draped over his right shoulder.

She gave him a good, friendlier squeeze, then said, "Now close your eyes, Harry, and think about how tired you are." Tonks held her wand close to his forehead and waved his eyes closed. Harry felt as though he were happily plummeting into a dark, bottomless chasm.

The next thing Harry knew, he was being shaken roughly.

"Wake up, Harry! It's time to go back", said Tonks.

It was several seconds before he realized where he was, but when he did, he was flooded with humiliation. He tried reaching for his glasses, but realized that despite how unfocused everything appeared, they were on his face. His head throbbed with pain, his tongue was pasty and he felt as though he was going to be sick. He couldn't think of anything to say to Tonks, so he kept silent as he put his trainers back on.

"Wash your face in the basin, Harry. You'll feel better."

"Thanks", he mumbled.

After drying his face on the towel, he spoke to Tonks without facing her.

"You remember what we spoke of here?" Harry kept his reddened face hidden.

"Of course."

"Well, I was just kidding really...I, I didn't mean any of it, of course!"

"I see. Do you remember what I said, Harry?"

"Yeah."

She crossed the room, turned Harry around and held him by the shoulders.

"Well, I meant every syllable of it. If you ever need me, Harry, for anything at all, you just let me know."

Harry's face tightened, then he hugged her before she could see him cry again.

After a moment, Tonks sniffed and asked, "Do you think you could get back on the grounds through the passageway you came out?"

"How do you know about..."

"Pul-eeze! Did you think I spent all my time at Hogwarts studying?"

"Yeah, I'm sure I'll be fine. I left my invisibility cloak back in the tunnel."

"Great!" said Tonks. "Off with you then. Please don't get caught!"

Harry made his way back to the tunnel without incident. Once inside the castle, however, he decided to take a quick walk outside, to allay something that was gnawing at him. He kept the cloak on till he got to the lake. Harry stood there for quite sometime in the gathering darkness before he took his wand out. He closed his eyes and visualized his target. Pointing his wand towards the water, he shouted "Accio!" His eyes were still closed, but he could nonetheless see his Godfather's medal breaking the water's surface and soar high into the air, before landing cleanly in his outstretched palm. With a smile, he turned it in his fingertips. Somewhere from deep within him, Harry sensed that Sirius would have thought the pardon and award all quite funny. Pocketing the still cold, wet medal, Harry slowly made his way back to the castle. He was in the mood for doling out heartfelt apologies and wondered where his friends could be...