Love Heals

She called Ron and Hermione back down and beckoned them over to her desk. "Now I would like to speak with you two alone for a moment, please." Harry hadn't expected that. What could she tell Ron and Hermione that she couldn't tell him? "In the meantime, there's something else you should know...." Her voice trailed off a little, and Harry's mind raced. Whatever he had been expecting it hadn't been this-

"Hello Harry," came Ginny's voice from the doorway.

*

Ron and Hermione had just watched Harry leave with Ginny. He looked upset, and he had a right to be. What could McGonagall possibly be telling them that she can't let Harry know as well? It just didn't make sense. McGonagall got up and walked over to a cabinet. She pulled out a bowl filled with a very eccentric substance. It wasn't liquid and it wasn't solid--it was somewhere in the middle. "This is a pensieve," she said.

Ron and Hermione glanced at each other in fearful significance. They had heard about this pensieve from Harry. "Do you know what it does?" McGonagall asked. They nodded. Hermione swallowed hard on a lump that had just formed in her throat. "I thought you would," McGonagall continued. "What I received from Dumbledore was not only a letter, but a package as well." She reached into the cabinet again and pulled out a box. Whatever it was that was in this box, it was indescribable. It was layers of a kind of wispy material. "These are memories."

At this Ron and Hermione had become even more fearful of what they were going to find out. Hermione glanced at Ron before asking shakily, "Whose memories, Professor?"

"Harry's."

That was what she was afraid of. Their fear simultaneously reached an all time high, as it peaked into a mixture of panic and dread. "You see," McGonagall went on, "There are some certain...occurrences...that happened in his past that, well, made him who he is today. Some of these things have significance regarding the war we are facing right now. Dumbledore wishes for me to share these memories with you, for you shall have need of the knowledge. I warn you, these are secrets of Harry's past that he has kept from everyone his whole life. Dumbledore was the only one who knew."

"Professor, I really don't think Harry would-," Hermione began.

"You have to know. It is not debatable."

This was not good. Harry would so not agree to this....

McGonagall went on explaining how to use the pensieve. When it was time, they braced themselves and fell in through the pensieve, but not before McGonagall warned, "This will be shocking."

*

A three-year-old Harry was scrubbing the floor in the kitchen of number four Privet Drive. He wore baggy clothes that were five sizes to big for him, and he was unusually small. Even for a child of three, it was obvious that his size was not normal. He looked smaller than half the size he should be. "When you're through here, you can weed the garden," said Petunia Dursley. "Don't expect the day to be so easy tomorrow, either."

"What about the laundry, dear?" came the voice of Vernon Dursley as he entered the kitchen.

"Oh, yes, and the laundry needs doing," she added nastily. Vernon snatched the newspaper up off the kitchen table and left the room. After about a minute of Petunia pestering Harry and pointing out every spot he might be missing, Dudley came waddling into the room. He took over his mother's current activity, and she too left the room. Harry's smallness was now beyond apparent in comparison to his overly large cousin. He fell onto his side as Dudley kicked him over. Used to this kind of thing, he righted himself immediately. He could not risk his aunt and uncle seeing him lying on the floor. Dudley laughed and pushed down on the back of Harry's head. A cracking sound came from his neck, and a tiny hand connected with the pained area.

At once, Dudley began screaming. "Mom! Harry stopped! Harry's not working, Mom!" Fear struck Harry's face, and Petunia Dursley quickly came into the room. She looked livid.

"After all we've done for you!" she screeched as she walked over to her nephew, and gave him a kick in the ribs. This caused Harry to fall over again, which only made him more vulnerable. "We gave you a place to live! We gave you clothing, and food! And you can't even do a simple chore without stopping every few seconds?" She started kicking him again, over and over again, until Hermione had to turn away from the sight. Petunia then picked him up off the floor by the collar of his shirt and threw him outside. "You can get to work out here. I'll be making up a new list of chores you can do to make up for your lack of effort in this one. If they aren't done by morning, don't expect to be eating tomorrow." She huffed off. Harry looked after, clutching his ribs....

And Dudley's laughs could be heard the whole time.

*

Ron and Hermione were silent back in McGonagall's office, too shocked to speak. The professor recognized the thoughts going through their heads, so she waited a little while before continuing. "That was Harry's everyday life around age three," she said, breaking the silence.

Another long pause.

"So his aunt was really mean?" Ron asked, his voice slightly high.

"I do not believe that Petunia was especially cruel," came McGonagall's reply. "I think she felt that this was what she had to do, for whatever reason. It was Vernon that was truly evil, and that Dudley as well." There was more silence, and she continued. "That was just the beginning. I have much more to show you."

*

Harry was six in this memory. He was being punished for failing to complete a chore perfectly. His uncle slapped him across the face repeatedly and threw him into a wall, which he hit hard. He fell to the ground, gasping for air. The verbal abuse did not diminish, and sensing a weakness in Harry, Vernon wrapped his large hands around his neck and began to choke him.

*

Harry was eight years old, and standing on the grass outside his school. He looked around nervously. Dudley and his gang had spotted him. He firmly gripped the strap of his bag on his shoulder, and made a run for it. He was surprisingly fast, particularly for an eight year old, and as always, shockingly small and undernourished. He would have escaped easily, had he not somehow trapped himself. The gang was on top of him instantly. They pounded into his face, and threw him into nearby trees. Bones could be heard breaking.

*

Harry was nine, and once again involved in a nasty beating. This one was a punishment for his fresh, though admittedly witty, retort directed at his obese cousin. He was standing against the wall, and a belt was thrashing into his back. He was bloody, bruised, and by this time frighteningly thin, but he could not run. That only made things worse. Despite it all, he refused to give in as the belt continued to repeatedly strike his back. He would not cry. He would not show weakness. His back was facing his uncle, and although he wore a shirt, it was completely destroyed.

Vernon was angered by Harry's lack of cries. "Ask me to stop," he said. "Beg me. Go ahead. If you do, I just might bring this to a close for the day."

"No."

The belt came down on his back harder than ever before, and he could not suppress a small whimper of pain to escape his lips. Vernon grinned wickedly. "Beg me, you freak," he said, his voice rising. Harry said nothing. "How dare you disobey me! I'll give you one last chance. I said, beg!"

The belt continued to pelt down onto Harry's back. Each one harder than the previous, but Harry remained mute. Caught in a mixture of fury and pleasure, Vernon grabbed his nephew by the throat and threw him onto the ground. He then regained his tight hold, and sat on the boy's stomach, taking care to put all his body weight on him. Harry gasped for air, and tried not to appear weak at the same time.

His uncle finally let go of his neck, just so that he could hear his moans.

*

"This was Harry's everyday life," McGonagall said again. "Beatings like the one you just witnessed happened once a week at best. He was also deprived of food, and forced to work in order to earn his keep. His bedroom was a cupboard under the stairs. That was where he spent most of his life. He was only let out for school, chores, and an occasional small meal."

Silence. Then, "But, what does this have to do with the war, Professor?" Hermione's voice was so small and weak; it was not at all what Ron was used to.

"You will know soon enough," came the reply. "Now, I have something else I need to discuss with you. Miss Weasley arrived a short while ago." She went on to explain the reasons for Ginny's arrival to Ron and Hermione. "You will need to tell her about the contents of that prophecy," she added at the end of her speech.

Ron looked outraged. "I'm not gonna have my little sister tagging along with me while we fight the most evil wizard of all time!" That was how McGonagall expected him to react. It felt like de ja vu as she went through the same conversation she had with Mrs. Weasley for the second time that day. Ron eventually gave in, and he and Hermione went to join the others.

When they saw Harry, they couldn't help but look at him in a way they never had before. They suddenly saw full meaning behind his emerald green eyes. There was a past there. This seventeen year old had experienced more in those ten years with the Dursleys than most adults have in their entire lives. Now, Harry has faced even more at Hogwarts. He has a destiny to fulfill. Will he ever catch a break?

The sympathy was overwhelming, but more than that, they were in awe. Most people who have experienced a life like Harry's end up suicidal. Beyond that, many will try to kill others, taking their anger out on anyone the can. Harry was never like this. It was incredible that he could have endured so much, and still hold on to humanity.

There were so many little things about him that made sense now. They knew he had been starved at times, they knew he never got birthday parties or proper gifts, and so some things about Harry were explainable. Now, there was even more. Ron recalled a time in their fourth year, when all the guys were trying to help Neville out. A letter had come for Neville saying that his grandmother would be there in a few minutes to tell him something she couldn't put in writing. She was going to just show up in the boy's dormitory. Neville was petrified over what she was going to say when she saw the mess in the dorm. It looked as though a tornado hit it. Harry sprung into action, helping his friend in any way he could. He assigned everyone an area of the room to clean, and they all complied, eager to help Neville. Harry had finished cleaning his section in less than thirty seconds. Annoyed, he told everyone to get out of his way and cleaned the dormitory himself. He did not even appear to be rushing as he worked. Although he moved so quickly you could hardly see him, his face looked as though he was taking his own sweet time. The others tried to help as much as they could, but no one could keep up with Harry. The place was clean in record time.

They were all stunned beyond words to discover this little talent of Harry's. Although he didn't have many belongings, his books and papers were always crowded around his bed. He had never made any effort to keep things neat, and was known to just throw things on the floor. The truth of the matter was that he always had the ability to clean, he just hated it and it brought back too many bad memories. Incidents like this had been going on with Harry from the moment Ron and Hermione met him, but it was only now that they had an answer as to why.

Harry looked at them strangely, and they realized they must have been staring. They quickly corrected their appearance. This could not be kept a secret. Harry deserved to know what they had seen, but now wasn't the time to tell him. He has kept this from them for so many years. It was clear that they were not supposed to know this. They should tell him.... They'd have to tell him at some point....

"So what were you doing?" Harry said, more as a demand than a question.

Now was not the time....

"McGonagall just wanted to tell us some things about the war she thought we should know," Hermione said, thinking fast.

"And she couldn't tell me?"

"Oh, it was just that you already know about it, so she didn't think you needed to stay. She thought you'd rather spend some time with Ginny," Hermione said tensely.

"Really? And what was it that she told you?"

"Just some stuff about...stuff." Harry raised his eyebrows at her. "I can't tell you here," she said, glancing at Ginny. That was a good excuse.... Pretend to be unable to discuss it in front of Ginny....

No, bad idea.

"I thought we agreed you were including me? Tell me what she said, now," Ginny ordered. She was clearly furious.

"It's not just you, Gin," Ron said, shocking Hermione. "We just can't talk about it here. We don't know who else is around." Well what do you know? Harry's not the only one who could make up lies....

"Y-Yeah," she stuttered in agreement. "McGonagall told us not to talk about it until we're certain we're alone."

Harry didn't believe them, but he was thankfully dropping it. Hermione let out a sigh of relief, but it did not overpower her feeling of terror-stricken anxiety. Harry was going to be so angry....