Sincerely, Harry James Potter

Chapter 3

Harry sat at the large kitchen table with Hermione's magazines strewn about the surface. Most of them were open to photographs from the recently released film about Harry's third year at Hogwarts.

Yesterday, after Ron and Hermione had gone to their respective jobs, Harry had apparated to his cousin's flat. Dudley had also left for the day to his job at a gym where he helped train other bullies to fight.

Among Hermione's research had been two DVDs. When Harry had looked more closely he realized they were like videos but on a CD-type disc. Harry remembered CDs from his years with the Dursley's as Dudley had always received the latest in electronic gadgets. Harry knew his cousin would have the machine to play these discs. He also knew he wanted to view these films without Ron and Hermione present. Ron would have a comment about everything and Hermione would be continuously telling Ron to shut up.

Harry found that these films weren't quite what he'd expected from his reading of the books. He'd felt that the first film was, dare he think it, kind of cute. Of course, it had still been such an innocent time in his life. Even with the dangers he'd faced then, he'd been quite naïve.

The second film, watched while munching on some of Dudley's microwave popcorn, had been a bit darker and he recalled the events of that year and how frightened they'd all been about who might be attacked next. He also thought about the revelation that Tom Riddle had been Voldemort in his younger years. Briefly Harry wondered what the chamber looked like now and if anyone had been in there since.

After watching the films, Harry had arrived home only shortly before Ron and Hermione. As was the case more often than not they'd all spent a quiet evening in the drawing room before heading for bed. It was on evenings like this one that Harry wondered why Ron and Hermione chose to live with him at Grimmauld Place. It couldn't be very enjoyable for them.

The next day, again after Ron and Hermione had left for the day, Harry had disapparated from Grimmauld Place to a street in Muggle London. He was, as he'd planned, standing in an alley next to a cinema. Paying with muggle money he kept on hand for some unfathomable reason he had gone to see the most recent film about his life.

There was a difference between this film and the previous two. The mood was closer to what it had actually been like. The actors had seemed to disappear and the people Harry had known were again before him, the subtle differences gone as Harry lost himself in this piece of his past.

This film had also been more difficult for Harry to watch. There were scenes that had brought about fond remembrances--when Harry flew on Buckbeak for the first time, when Hermione had hit Malfoy. But the losses had also hit him anew; losses that he took the blame for--Seamus, Percy, Mrs. Weasley. The film had brought Harry back to a time before he'd known the truth about Sirius and had wanted to kill him. He vividly recalled the revelations in the shrieking shack; the brief elation at the thought of not having to live with the Dursleys anymore. Then, the sorrow at his godfather having to leave and go into hiding just when Harry had found him.

And the actor who'd played him, this Daniel Radcliffe, had truly conveyed all that Harry had felt and more. It was like this kid was getting into his head almost as much as the J.K. Rowling woman had.

Harry had to admit that since Hermione had brought this all home to him, the knowledge that the muggle world knew all about him--albeit as a fictional character--he'd been thinking more about, well everything, and looking at it all in a new way. His life and everything that had happened to him and those around him was not only well known in the wizarding world but muggles were devouring everything they could about him. So far the author of Harry's story had only written through his fifth year at Hogwarts. Harry wondered what they would think when they learned what had come after. When they learned of the cost it had taken to defeat Voldemort. According to many of the magazine articles his sixth year was currently being written about with muggles worldwide anxiously awaiting it. The same articles also said the "saga" would end with the seventh book as Harry finished at Hogwarts and the final battle took place. Harry thought of all the things after that the muggles would never know. How Harry, unable to bear the outcome of what he'd had to do; how he wished it could have been different had sequestered himself away from both muggle and wizarding worlds and everyone he knew.

For a few years right after the end of the war Harry had even refused to see Ron and Hermione. How could he face Ron when his mother and one of his brothers had been killed? When another brother had been maimed and his only sister had been a resident of St. Mungo's ever since. Harry knew Ron had to deal with his own guilt regarding actions he'd taken during the war but Harry was sure it would never have happened if not for him. Harry knew, deep down, that Ron didn't blame him but both of them were accepting responsibility for things they'd had little to no control over. They both tacitly agreed never to mention the war to each other or the final battle. They both simply dealt with their demons in their own way.

Harry had also refused to see Hermione at first. He knew she would try to talk some sense into him and by doing so would remind him of things he'd prefer to forget. When he'd finally succumbed to her pleas to see him--two years after the war--she hadn't done this. Instead she'd simply told him how much she and Ron missed him. Then she'd asked a favour of him. She and Ron were getting married. They could live at the Burrow in the beginning to save money but there were so many people there. Mr. Weasley, Bill and Fleur--who'd married shortly after the war had ended--their son and another baby on the way and Fred and Angelina as well as their newborn were all living there as it was. They wanted to be someplace a little quieter; where they could spend a bit more time alone together. Was there any possible way they could move in to Grimmauld Place for a while, just so they could get a good start? Hermione had also made some promises. She and Ron wouldn't disturb Harry if he wanted to be left alone; they wouldn't talk about the past at all unless Harry wanted to. Finally, Harry had agreed to think about it.

It was Winky who had convinced Harry and all it had taken were a few sentences. At breakfast one morning she had simply said, "Master Harry Potter should let his friends come. Master Harry Potter could use the company. So could Winky. Master Harry Potter's friends suffered and lost in the dark war as well as Master Harry Potter. He should remember that they did so willingly because they are his friends." The table cleared and Winky's lecture complete she'd disappeared with a pop before a stunned Harry could react.

Winky's last sentence had hit Harry like a punch in the stomach. No matter how many arguments he had with himself about Ron and Hermione coming to live at Grimmauld Place it always came back to that and Harry found he simply couldn't say no.

But, there were rules and Ron and Hermione followed them implicitly. There was no talking about the outside world, no mentioning of their outside activities, people they knew or even what they'd had for lunch. (A tough one for Ron.) There were also no visitors and they weren't to pass any invitations along to Harry from anyone.

Harry paused in his reflections and looked around the kitchen He listened to the silence. Winky's words came back to him and he realized that his friends, yet again and for four long years, had uncomplainingly made more sacrifices for him. All just to keep him company and watch over him. Harry felt ashamed.

I keep making a mess of everything, he thought. Then his eyes fell on one of the magazine photos. He picked it up and wondered aloud, "I wonder how he deals with being the boy-who-lived?" Unbidden another thought formed and while he tried to push it aside he found it simply wouldn't go away. Maybe it's time I actually started living again.