Friends and More by ZZ9PluralZAlpha



Summary: Harry's life is in turmoil since the death of his godfather, but realising he is in love doesn't make it any easier. This story tracks his sixth and seventh years at Hogwarts and all the problems he faces.
Rating: G starstarstarstarstar
Categories: Post-OotP
Characters: None
Genres: None
Warnings: None
Challenges: None
Series: None
Published: 2004.12.02
Updated: 2005.03.03


Friends and More by ZZ9PluralZAlpha
Chapter 1: Chapter One: Messages
Author's Notes:

Friends and More

Chapter 1: Messages

It was seven o’clock in the evening, and the end of another beautiful day in Little Whinging. The sun was setting into banks of fiery orange cloud, the traffic noises were muted and low, and in one of the bedrooms of number four, Privet Drive, a fifteen year old boy sat at his desk, gazing out of the window, and enjoying the cool evening breeze that played across his face.

Harry Potter hadn’t changed a great deal in the past five years, at least in appearance. True, he had shot up in height recently, almost without realising it, so that he now all but towered over all the Dursleys, and while he was still thin the constant physical exertion of Quidditch practice and a generally strenuous life-style meant that he was wiry and very fit, almost athletic. His black hair, though, was just as uncontrollable as ever, growing in almost all directions indiscriminately, all but covering the lightning scar on his forehead and his vivid, deep green eyes beneath his glasses.

He frowned slightly and drummed his fingers across the blank parchment in front of him. The next day he would be free of the muggle world for a year, free of the Dursleys who, while terrified of upsetting him, could never in a million years understand him, or understand what he was going through. At that thought his eyes pricked, and he screwed them up furiously, determined not to break down. He had to accept the fact that Sirius was dead. Sirius, whom he had only known for two years, was gone. The thought wrenched at him, but he took a deep, steadying breath and looked back at the parchment. His desk was cluttered with scrolls of the stuff, mostly homework that he had occupied himself with during the first weeks of the summer holidays, as well as quills, bottles of ink, books and one or two rather more strange things: his sneakoscope stood amidst the scrolls, glinting in the twilight and standing on its point. Separated from the other scrolls was a blank but rather old piece of parchment: the Marauder’s Map shoed nothing at the moment, of course, since he wasn’t at Hogwarts. A box of owl treats stood open at the back of the desk, and he tossed one to Hedwig, smiling fondly at her as she gulped it down. She would need her strength soon enough: he had a job for her. Or at least, he would do if he could actually manage to write this blasted letter.

He had been trying to write it ever since he had arrived back at Privet Drive. His first problem had been, who to write it to? What he really wanted was to share his thoughts with someone who would understand, but the only person who, he thought, would have understanded, was Sirius. He thought about writing to one of his grown-up wizard friends, perhaps Professor Lupin or Tonks, but he knew from their regular checks on him over the past two weeks that they were extremely busy. The Order of the Phoenix was now recognised as the first line of defence against Voldemort and the death eaters by the whole of the wizarding community, ever since the events that had taken place in the Department of Mysteries, and Harry didn’t want to add to their worries by telling them his problems. There was always Ron and Hermione, but much as he trusted them and valued their advice, they didn’t know what he was experiencing. The same applied to Ginny, although, now he thought of it, she had always seemed very understanding of his problems and had always tried to help him with them… memories came back to him of how, last year, he had been convinced that Voldemort had been possessing him, until she had told him what the experience was like, proving to him that he had not been taken over. Unlike at the last fight with Voldemort.

But the person who came to mind, more than any other, was someone he had only known for a year, someone he didn’t know at all, really, but whose words, after the terrible events that had led up to Sirius’ death, had meant such a lot to him. He was going to write to Luna Lovegood. He picked up a quill, dipped it in his inkbottle, and began to write.

Dear Luna,

How are you? I’m really sorry, after what happened, I was too messed up to ask anyone really, and I really wanted to thank you for what you said, when we spoke while everyone else was at the feast. It really meant a lot to me, thanks.

You’re going to think I’m a total idiot now, because you don’t really know me that well, but I keep thinking about what happened, and I needed to tell someone about it, someone who could understand… I hope you don’t mind that I wrote to you.

I have to accept it. Sirius is gone, and he’s not coming back, not ever. I only knew him for two years and… it wasn’t enough. He’d already been kept away from me for twelve years, twelve years when he was supposed to be my guardian, and in two years he showed me more fatherly affection than I had ever thought possible, even though I didn’t get to see him very often in that time. It just seems so unfair. He protected me, advised me, comforted, warned and, sometimes, told me off. All the things parents are supposed to do, he did. And now he’s gone.

It’s almost worse than my parents. I never knew them: everyone tells me about them, how they were very powerful, how they were such good people, how they stood up for what they believed… but I knew Sirius as I’ll never know them. That struck me, just recently. This time the person who’s gone is someone I had grown to… to love. I always get sympathy from people because I’m an orphan, but I can only imagine what you went through, or what the Diggorys went through, and as for Neville…

I’m sorry to go on and on like this. I wanted to say thanks, to tell you what I’m thinking (I don’t have a penseive, and I could really do with one right now), but I also wanted to ask how you are. Have you told your Dad about that night? Was he upset? Are you? Quite honestly, Luna, it’s always a bit tricky to guess what you’re thinking. Maybe you don’t want people to know, which is fair enough: hell, I’m famous for yelling at people for asking questions, apparently. Just remember, if you need someone to talk to, I’d be more than happy.

By the way, from tomorrow I’ll be staying at the Burrow with the Weaslys. It shouldn’t be a problem: Hedwig should know where to go.

Thanks again,

Harry

He set down his quill and looked over the letter. He seemed to have rambled on a lot, but he hoped that Luna would understand. She had been so comforting, just before the end of term… he almost wished that it would be less than four weeks till he next saw her.

Until then, though, he would have Ron and Hermione, and Ginny of course. He thought about her for a while. She had been so… so dependable, last year. She had been his comrade, his friend. She had changed so much from the frightened first year who had been possessed by Voldemort. He wondered why she was so loyal to him, realising, that, in the past, he had never been particularly friendly with her, just polite in an embarrassed sort of way, because her crush on him had so obvious. Now, though, she was going out with Dean Thomas and was one of his closest friends. He hoped she realised that.

He sighed and looked at his clock, surprised to see that it was now ten. He needed to be up in reasonable time tomorrow to pack, so after seeing Hedwig out safely with his letter clasped in her talons, he undressed and lay in his bed, breathing slowly. Since his talk with Professor Dumbledore at the end of last year, he had decided that the best thing he could do during the holidays was try to improve at Occlumency. True, it had been very hard to learn from Snape, he didn’t need anyone poking around in his memory deliberately, and it would be tricky to practise with no one attempting to read his thoughts, but every night he tried to go to sleep having emptied his mind, dispelling all thoughts from his consciousness.

It wasn’t easy. His thoughts were so chaotic and confused that he could only hold on to them for a few seconds at a time. Still, he persevered, grasping at each thought and slowly, deliberately, letting it go. The first, of course, was losing Sirius. It was the hardest thought to be rid of, because he still had trouble accepting it. But he let himself be calm about it. Yes, he was dead. They had had two years, which was much better than nothing. And he had died as he would have wanted to, fighting dark wizards and protecting his godson. True, his death was partly Harry’s fault, since none of them would have been there if not for him, but he knew no one blamed him. Voldemort had invaded his mind and made him think things: he was certain that Sirius would have done the same, and someone had told him that his father would have as well.

And so the thought left him. He moved on to other things. How confused he was about Ron and Hermione: it was quite clear now that they were closer than friends and were only likely to grow closer. Well, he could deal with that. He had always known that there was something slightly different about their relationship, and it wasn’t as if they wouldn’t still be his best friends. Yes, he could deal with them getting together. The thought left him.

The one it left behind was much more difficult. How did he feel, right now? He had realised pretty quickly that he was over Cho. Yes she was a nice girl, and one of Dumbledore’s Army, but it had been a mistake to get involved with her. She was still trying to get over Cedric, and understandable as that was, he didn’t want to dwell on that anymore. He couldn’t endure seeing her cry again. So he had stayed away, and she had done the same… she had even got a new boyfriend, it seemed, though Harry doubted whether they had ever got far enough to consider himself as having ever been her boyfriend. If she found Michael Corner a comfort, and if he liked her, then good for them. Of course, he had left Ginny for her, which had made him slightly angry, but Ginny was apparently going out with Dean now. That caused another pang and he wondered why before letting it go.

And then, of course, there was that thought. Not the worst, but by far the most worrying, the most pressing, and the one he tried hardest to avoid. The memory of what Dumbledore had told him, the prophecy he had shown to Harry in his penseive… the knowledge that he, Harry, would have to destroy Voldemort once and for all, or die himself and doom the whole world to Voldemort’s domination. He couldn’t allow that, but it made him wonder. Would he be able to do it? Would he be able to say those two words, the words that had killed so many, including his parents and Cedric Diggory, and feel enough hatred that the spell would kill? He honestly didn’t know. Maybe there would be another way to do it, a way that didn’t involve the killing curse, something about the power of love that Dumbledore had told him he possessed…

It would sort itself out. All these problems, everything, they didn’t matter right now: he could serve everyone best by ignoring the thoughts and thus closing his mind to Voldemort. Finally, when he felt as though he was floating in a great sea of nothingness, he drifted into sleep, and dreamed only of two faces: the understanding, sympathetic and rather vague face of Luna, and Ginny’s obstinate, courageous expression, juxtaposed with her frightened reliance such a long time ago, after he had killed the basilisk and destroyed the memory of Tom Riddle. He wondered vaguely what they meant.

~*~

Breakfast the next morning was almost entirely silent. The Dursleys were aware that, soon enough, Harry would be leaving them for almost a year, and while they were obviously glad of that the fact that wizards would be coming to pick him up unnerved them terribly. Uncle Vernon sat at the table, his coffee untouched and his eyes not moving across his paper, feeling very lucky that he would be at work when the boy left. Dudley slouched on his stool, munching his cereal. He might well have been scared of the forthcoming invasion of his house, except that his prowess at boxing had apparently increased, and with it a development of his ability to hide emotions like fear. He hadn’t gone near or spoken to Harry since he had come home, which was fine by Harry. As long as he didn’t eat any random sweets, he should be fine.

Harry went upstairs again right afterwards and checked his room to make sure that he had left nothing behind. His Firebolt, invisibility cloak, cauldron, books, robes and everything else he would need had been packed for a few hours: his relatively early night and extremely restful sleep had meant he had woken ridiculously early for a schoolboy in the holidays. He paused at that, just for a moment. It was hard to remember, sometimes, that he was, still, a schoolboy. He had done things, faced things, that most adult wizards would never have to deal with in their lives. How many other people had learnt to conjure a patronus at the age of thirteen, or ever killed a fully-grown basilisk? The thought was gone quickly, but was soon replaced by another, rather more unpleasant one. It wouldn’t be long till his OWL results arrived.

He wasn’t too nervous about most of them. He was pretty sure he’d done well in Defence Against the Dark Arts, Charms, Transfiguration and Care of Magical Creatures. Potions he was unsure of, and he had mixed feelings towards his intention of continuing with the subject. A career as an auror meant that you had to be good at Potions, but could he face another two years with Snape? More to the point, if he hadn’t got good enough grades in the subject Snape would be likely not to accept him anyway. He was pretty sure he had failed both History of Magic and Astronomy, since both exams had been interrupted. In Astronomy, he had witnessed the attempted arrest of Hagrid by Professor Umbridge and several aurors, as well as an attack that had injured Professor McGonagall quite badly. History of Magic had been when Harry had seen the vision that Voldemort had sent him, of Sirius lying alone and vulnerable in the department of mysteries, at Voldemort’s mercy…

A surge of anger swept through Harry as he remembered that, and it mingled with self-disgust. How could he have allowed himself to be manipulated like that? How could he have risked everyone who had accompanied him, trying to save Sirius, only to cause his death? Why hadn’t he worked harder at Occlumency from the start? How could he have forgotten the mirror Sirius had given him, a secure and secret way to communicate with the outside world while under Umbridge’s tyranny? He forced himself to calm down. Yes, all these things were his fault, but the event hadn’t been caused just by him. Dumbledore had admitted that it was greatly his fault, since he should have realised that Sirius would not be contained in his ancestral home forever, and that Harry would reject Snape’s teaching him Occlumency, when he himself should have taught Harry. And of course, Voldemort was to blame most of all. It had been he who had set the trap, who had sent the death eaters, and it was Bellatrix Lestrange who had killed Sirius. Harry remembered using an unforgivable curse on her, when his fury had overtaken him. He had failed, but he had wondered for a while whether someone would berate him, or even arrest him, for his use of it. No one had. Of course, hardly anyone knew, and no one who wanted Harry shut up in Azkaban, but he wondered sometimes if that was strictly right in terms of justice. He wondered what else he might be capable of, if rage like that ever overtook him again.

The morning passed slowly. The early sunlight had given way to a light drizzle that had soon soaked everything outside, and the heat was oppressive. Harry lay on his bed, thinking. For some reason, he thought of Ginny again. Why was that? He shook his head as though to clear it, and realised something important. He was in desperate need of comfort. He needed to be around friends and family, and to be able to think about new things. He got up and had just found his favourite book, ‘Flying with the Cannons’, in his trunk, when there was a shriek from below, followed by some very fast speaking.

Harry rushed down stairs and saw Mr Weasly standing in the living room, attempting to calm Aunt Petunia, who seemed to have collapsed on to the sofa. Dudley was nowhere in sight. Harry imagined that he had scarpered the moment Mr Weasly had arrived. Tall and balding, though still with vividly red hair, Arthur Weasly turned to Harry as he walked in and smiled broadly at him.

“Harry! Wonderful to see you. I’m very sorry, I seem to have shocked your aunt, I should have remembered that she’s not used to people apparating.”

Harry grinned. It was wonderful to see him again; he had felt quite close to Mr Weasly ever since the night when he had experienced the snake’s attack on him. “It’s good to see you too, Mr Weasly. Hang on,” and in a strangely affectionate mood he hurried to the kitchen and poured a glass of water, which he brought back to the living room and handed to his aunt. It was then he noticed that Mr Weasly was dressed in muggle clothes, very much like the ones he had worn to the Quidditch world cup. He suppressed a laugh, guessing that Mr Weasly had been trying to be thoughtful and considerate by looking as normal as possible, but had slipped up rather when he decided to apparate. Aunt Petunia looked at Harry with a slightly grateful expression on her face when he handed her the glass, and proceeded to sip it in silence.

“How are we going to the Burrow?” Harry was slightly confused. No one had said anything about how he would be travelling, but he had sort of assumed they would drive. Seeing Mr Weasly in the living room had been just as surprising for Harry as for his aunt, though for different reasons.

“I’ve had special permission from the department of magical transportation to create a portkey here… we’ll use something from your room, I suppose. It’s by far the safest way, since you can’t apparate yourself yet.”

Harry nodded, then turned to his aunt. “Well, bye. I’ll see you next summer I suppose.” She looked at him and nodded, apparently not trusting herself to speak, but Harry was surprised at how gentle her expression was: she had never looked at him like that before. He smiled slightly, and then beckoned for Mr Weasly to follow him up to his room.

While Harry assembled his things in the middle of the room, Mr Weasly picked up an old pencil that had been lying on Harry’s desk and muttered, “Portus.” He looked up at Harry and smiled. “The timer’s set for thirty seconds, Harry. We need to be touching all your belongings, make sure they get there too. And, just so you know, we’ll arrive in the garden. Less chance of accidents.”

Harry nodded, put one hand on his trunk and clutched Hedwig’s empty cage in the crook of the other before touching the pencil with a free finger. A few seconds later there was a lurch, a feeling of being pulled a very long way instantly navel first, and then he staggered, almost falling onto the soft grass of the Weaslys’ back garden.

Almost before he had righted himself there was a jubilant shriek and he was almost knocked over by Hermione, who was hugging him so tightly he could hardly breathe. Mr Weasly chuckled. “I wish I could stay Harry, but I’ve got to get back to work. I’m supposed to report that you got here safely. I’ll see you tonight.”

As he disapparated Harry heard another, very familiar voice. “Give him a chance, Hermione.” Ron stood behind her, grinning at him as Hermione stepped away and positively beamed.

“Oh, it’s so good to see you! How are you?”

“All the better for seeing you two,” Harry said with a chuckle. He laughed again at the looks of incredulity on their faces. “Look, I’ve pretty much decided to stop being miserable. We have got to spend some time being happy, and this is pretty much it.” He grasped one end of his trunk, since Hermione’s impact had made him drop everything, and Ron hurried to take the other while Hermione picked up the empty cage. They walked towards the burrow, chatting happily, and Harry had his wish. He was home.

~*~

A few hours later Harry sat on his camp bed in Ron’s room, looking at the Chudley Cannons posters plastered on the walls and just enjoying the feeling of being here. After being subjected to massive hugs from Mrs Weasly he had spent an enjoyable morning with Ron and Hermione. Ginny, they told him, had stayed over night with a friend, but would be back some time that afternoon. He was looking forward to seeing her. Somehow the sight of her always made him feel… he didn’t know how to describe it. Happy certainly, and safe as well, but there was also something else, something akin to how he felt during Quidditch matches that he couldn’t put his finger on. He grinned, silently laughing at himself and headed downstairs. Ron and Hermione had begun a game of chess after lunch and they were still at it, although Harry noticed that neither was paying much attention to the game: they were bickering gently in their usual, amicable fashion, and Harry noticed that Ron’s hand lay on top of Hermione’s. He grinned at this, but didn’t interrupt, not wishing to make them feel embarrassed.

He thought back to what he had said to them when he had arrived that morning. His feeling of happiness and contentment faded slightly. To be perfectly honest, it had been a lie. He hadn’t really dealt with the events of the previous month, he was still miserable when he thought of them, burning with anger and hate and guilt. On the other hand, his practice at Occlumency seemed to be helping: not only were his dreams never more than vague half-pictures, but the process of clearing his mind before he slept helped to rationalise and justify his thoughts. While he still felt guilty, he at least knew exactly what he was guilty of, and while that wasn’t really anything to be happy about, being less confused helped, and he wasn’t nearly as confused as he had been. And he had meant what he had said about this being the time to be happy: he had a strong feeling that the emotion was going to be a short supply in the coming months.

Brooding on this, he wandered the house, vaguely wondering where everyone was: he was used to the Burrow being crowded with people whenever he was there. He mentally checked the list. Ron, Hermione and Mrs Weasly were here, Ginny would be around later, Mr Weasly was at work, as was Bill, who was apparently bringing Fleur Delacouer round for dinner. He grinned at that, remembering the way she had looked at Bill before the third task of the tri-wizard tournament. It seemed so long ago. Of course, his life had been changed completely a few hours after that, when he had watched Voldemort rise from the cauldron… he stopped that thought, knowing it would be a bad idea to relive the moment that had more or less divided his life in two. So he returned to the checklist. Charlie, he gathered, wouldn’t be here for a week or so, but that was understandable, as he was grown up and had a job to attend: the only reason Bill was around was because he had a desk job at Gringott’s in London now, instead of his work in Egypt, so that he could help the Order. Fred and George were also coming tonight, although they had a flat above their new shop in Diagon Alley. He looked forward to seeing them as well. And Percy, too. After the Ministry’s turn around in attitude after seeing proof of Voldemort’s return, Percy had come back to his family, apologising profusely, and they had welcomed him back eagerly. He still worked in the Minister’s Office, and now acted partly as a messenger between the Minister and Dumbledore.

He had been wandering aimlessly as he thought, and was just passing the fire when it erupted into green flame and spewed out a very surprised looking Ginny. Harry caught her before she knocked him over. For a moment he looked at her startled face as they clutched each other, trying not to fall, and he realised all of a sudden why he had so wanted to see Ginny, and why he felt as he did whenever he thought of her.

The point was that he liked her. Really, really liked her. As he hastily let go and let her steady herself, he could feel himself blushing. He remembered the way she herself had blushed so often on seeing him when she was younger, and almost laughed at the bizarre role reversal. Standing before him was a very beautiful young woman. She had let her hair grow long, and her ponytail hung down well below her shoulders. At one time he had thought she took after her mother, as Charlie and the twins did, but she must already be taller than the twins, nearing his own height, and slender with it. He saw a blush creeping over her own cheeks, the wonderfully cute freckles almost disappearing, and his eyes met her own large, brown eyes, which seemed at once so dark as to be almost black but also to shine with light reflected from the window. He swallowed and glanced away before smiling at her, trying to act as though nothing had happened.

“Hi, Ginny. Great to see you.”

“Hi, Harry.” Her voice sounded slightly confused or bewildered, so Harry tried to put her at ease.

“Er, did you have a nice time with your friend?”

“Yeah, it was great.” At once, she sounded more natural, as though she had relaxed, and her voice sent little shivers all over Harry’s skin. He had never reacted like this to a girl, never, not even Cho. The mere sound of her voice had never done this to him. He swallowed, and walked with her into the kitchen as she continued. “I was staying with Rose Grant… you know, in Hufflepuff, in my year?” Harry nodded, vaguely remembering a dark haired girl wandering over to talk to Ginny from the Hufflepuff table during meals at Hogwarts. “She took me to a cinema, we saw a film.” Harry would have laughed at her apparent excitement over such an achievement if he hadn’t been caught between thinking about Ginny and remembering that he had never been to a cinema in his life.

“Ginny! How was your evening, dear?” Mrs Weasly looked up, beaming, from her pastry making, which seemed to involve some rather random wand movements, until Harry saw the dough kneading itself in response.

“Oh, it was…”

At that moment there was a loud shrieking sound and they all looked at the window. Two owls plummeted towards them, one flying above the other, the lower one trying desperately to support the other from underneath. They threw the window open and Mrs Weasly waved her wand at them, causing them to slow down so that they could fall gently into Harry’s and Ginny’s arms.

Ginny had caught Hedwig, who quickly hooted in thanks and flew to Harry’s shoulder, where she nibbled his ear and stuck out a leg that grasped a letter. Harry handed Ginny the owl he had caught, who was a very exhausted looking Errol. She hurried to put him on his perch and get him water, and he stood drinking it for a while, as Harry placed Hedwig next to him. Both Harry and Ginny clutched letters addressed to them.

“We’re you expecting a letter?” Ginny’s tone was light and casual as she slit her own open. Harry had been completely distracted by Hedwig’s arrival. He had only written to Luna the previous evening… she must have replied almost at once. Realising that Ginny had asked him a question, he struggled to reply.

“Er… yeah. Yeah, I wrote to Luna a little while ago.” He was staring at the unopened letter so hard that he didn’t see Ginny’s look of profound shock and, in fact hurt. Still not looking up, he replied in kind. “You expecting something too?”

She looked away from him and made towards the door. “Yes, it’s a letter from Dean.” Her tone was just slightly icy, enough to rouse Harry from his stupor. From Dean? Oh, of course… why shouldn’t she get letters from her boyfriend? he thought, his shoulders drooping slightly.

He stood in the kitchen for a while, feeling a sudden despondency, not noticing the odd looks Mrs Weasly was giving the pair of them. He remembered what Hermione had told him and Ron last year, that Ginny had given up on Harry… that she still liked him as a friend… he stumped back to his room, steeped in gloom. He was so stupid. If he was going to develop… feelings for Ginny, why couldn’t he have done it while she still liked him? In the past, when confronted by Ginny’s rather obvious crush, he had been embarrassed and not exactly keen to do anything to encourage her, but now he found himself in the same position… except of course that Ginny was actually with someone else. He lay on his bed, a strange lethargy overcoming him. It was a few minutes before he remembered the letter clutched in his hand. Opening it he saw tidy if somewhat over elaborate handwriting that stretched to the bottom of the page.

Dear Harry,

I have to say, I was very surprised when your owl arrived with a letter for me. I read it straight away, even abandoning my proofreading duties for my Dad, because I knew it must be important, and I was right.

Harry, I have to say I’m both honoured and a little shocked that you chose to confide in me like this. I know you explained why in your letter, but for some reason I still couldn’t quite believe it… and you know me, there aren’t many things I won’t believe.

I can’t pretend to understand what you’re going through, Harry. When my Mum died, I think she was actually fairly happily… she always loved to experiment. With you… your parents, and now your godfather were taken from you, violently, with no warning, and while you could say that’s the same for me, there wasn’t anyone who really caused my Mum’s accident, whereas you’re the victim of three murders.

Still, I’ll try to help. Of course, I know there’s something you’re not telling me, something you’re not telling anyone, but I can only assume there’s a very good reason for that, and when we’re ready, and when you are ready, you’ll let us know, and maybe help you. You know that everyone in the DA, all your friends, the Order of the Phoenix you told me about and especially, I think, those of us who came to the ministry that night, deeply care for you and want to help. We’re all here for you Harry, whenever you need us.

You should remember, Harry, that while Sirius might be dead as far as we understand it, he’ll never be gone. I didn’t know him, though I would have liked to (you remember the article about him, I knew he wasn’t guilty), but he meant a lot to you and Ron, Hermione and Ginny, as well as, I would have thought, other members of the Order. You mentioned that Professor Lupin was one of his best friends: I imagine that he is feeling this just as sorely as you are. But while all those people remember him, he can’t ever really be gone. He was too important to all of you to ever be forgotten.

I’m sorry for rambling, and I’ll try to be brief. You asked how I was, and whether I told my Dad what happened. I told him the whole story, the moment I got home. He was very scared for a while. I’d never seen him like that before. But he told me he was proud of me for helping my friends and doing the right thing, and when I think about it that way, I feel fine. I did what needed to be done at the time: we all did. You might think that the only thing to come out of that night was the death of a wonderful friend, but remember that since then the ministry of magic has admitted that Voldemort has come back and we revealed the identities of many death-eaters. I don’t know if you know, but they went to Azkaban a week or so ago. They’ll probably escape soon enough, but people will know them for what they are, and Voldemort will be very much weakened by that.

This all seems very serious, and I’m sorry, so on to other things… I’m dying to know how everyone does with their OWLs, so please write back when you get the results and tell me all about them. How’s your summer been so far? Have your muggle relatives been terrible? I hope you manage to have a good time. I think it will do you good.

Remember, I’m always available, if you need someone to talk to.

Say high to Ginny for me.

Love,

Luna

Harry folded up the letter, slightly stunned by Luna’s response. She was so kind, and thoughtful… Harry knew he had made the right choice when he had decided to write to her and confide in her. She had given him a lot to think about, but he felt strangely consoled and comforted. He lay back, thinking how right she was, especially about all the people who cared for him… the Weaslys, Hermione, the Order, everyone was willing to support him. It caused him a slight twinge. In the past he might have wondered why they should all care for him, but he knew now, after five years, that they appreciated him for who he was, and that was enormously gratifying. Of course, there was another reason why he was important…

He winced. He had all but managed to avoid that memory for two weeks, but Luna had been very near when she had written about something he wasn’t telling anyone. He hoped that, in time, he would be able to tell someone the content of Professor Trelawny’s first prediction. He closed his eyes, allowing himself to drift, and inevitably his thoughts returned to Ginny. Ginny, who was so kind and wise and loyal and beautiful and wonderful…

He stopped when he felt a hollow lurch in the pit of his stomach. He was too late. She had someone else, and she had long ago given up on him. He was too late again, just as he had been once before, to ask Cho to the Yule Ball. Of course, thinking back, that hadn’t brought anything like the feeling of despair he felt now, especially since he and Cho had split up. It just seemed so unfair, somehow. After all, he lo-

Harry sat up very suddenly, breathing hard and fast, his eyes wide in astonishment. That was it. He loved Ginny. He loved her. He had never before really understood what those words meant, but he knew now, knew it in the centre of his being. Just as he knew that she didn’t love him. He collapsed back onto the bed, grief overwhelming him, and he lay there for a long time, until Ron fetched him down for dinner. The letter lay abandoned on the bed, just two words visible:

Love,

Luna




(AN: Ok, this is my first fic, and I'm really eager to see what people think, so let me know. Chapter two is finished and three is in progress. I just hope I can keep up ;-) )

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