Chapter Notes
CW for mentions of child abuse/neglect
The first thing Harry registered upon stepping through the door of Number Twelve was his godfather's smiling face.
"Sirius!" His relief was real; he hadn't seen the man in almost a week, and what a hell of a week it had been. He threw himself into his godfather's arms, some of the tension leaving him when Sirius hugged him tight.
"I've got you, pup," he promised in a fierce whisper. "You're alright."
Harry almost broke down there and then, but muffled voices reminded him they weren't alone. Reluctantly, he pulled back, making a face when he saw their surroundings. Sirius had mentioned the house was in poor shape, but he hadn't expected it to be so… dark.
"Good to see you, mate!"
"About time you showed up!"
The twins were whispering, which Harry found odd, but they beamed at him from behind Sirius. Nudging past the animagus, George ruffled Harry's hair, tucking him between himself and Fred and leading him through a door off to the side. Harry found himself in a very full kitchen, the smell of cooking meat making his stomach rumble.
"Oh, Harry, dear!" The twins were dislodged as their mother hurried over, and Harry tried not to stiffen too much when he was bundled in a rib-cracking hug. "Look at you, you're far too skinny, you poor thing!" She patted his cheek, eyeing him over with a frown on her face. "Pale as a ghost, too. Have you been getting any sun at all?"
Harry wasn't that pale, and he grit his teeth — as far as she knew, he'd been shut in his room all summer; was she trying to rub it in?
"I'm afraid you can't stay long; it's almost time for the Order meeting. But I'll make you a quick sandwich to take up with you — did you have lunch? Never mind; you're a growing boy, you can always eat more! I'll only be a minute."
Harry turned towards the table, around which were several people he didn't recognise, all of whom were staring at him with varying levels of interest. He was saved having to say anything by the door opening, and Ginny skidding in past Tonks. "You're here!" she crowed in delight, practically jumping on Harry in a hug. He couldn't help but laugh, smiling into her strawberry-scented hair.
"Hi, Gin."
When she pulled back, she kept her hands on his shoulders, studying him carefully. "You're looking better than I thought you would. Are you alright?" Harry didn't know how much of the question was for show, and he shrugged.
"All things considered, not bad." That seemed to be enough for the redhead, and she nodded decisively.
The door opened again, and Snape strode in, his customary sneer on his face. Harry didn't react at the sight of him, though he saw the faintest flicker of approval in the man's dark eyes when he saw the Gryffindor. "I see we are to be blessed with Potter's presence once more," he drawled. Sirius growled, only to get a whack on the shoulder with Mrs Weasley's wooden spoon.
"Severus, goodness, is it time already? Kids, come on, we'd better get you upstairs — yes, Fred, George, for the last time that means you as well! I don't care if you're of age, you're still in school, and you'll stay out of all this." With a plate piled high with sandwiches floating behind her, Mrs Weasley beckoned Harry over. "I thought I'd put you in with Ron, dear; I'll show you the way."
"Harry's taking my old room, Molly," Sirius said, stepping forward and placing a hand on Harry's shoulder. "I'll take him up."
"Nonsense; the boys share all the time when they're at the Burrow, it's no trouble."
"Harry is my godson, and this is my house," Sirius reminded her firmly. "He's had a difficult summer, and if he wants the privacy of his own bedroom, he can have it."
Mrs Weasley turned to Harry, as if expecting him to argue and insist he wanted to share with Ron. Harry had no intention of doing so, and flashed his godfather a smile. "Thanks, Sirius."
"No problem, kid." Sirius grinned, reaching out to steal one of the sandwiches. "Come on, I'll show you around. Stay quiet in the main hall, now; my mother's portrait is sleeping. She's a bit of a hag, you don't want to wake her up."
That explained the whispering earlier. Before Mrs Weasley could protest, Sirius had grabbed the plate of food and was headed for the door, three redheads and Harry in his wake. They tiptoed up two flights of stairs, lined with a grotesque collection of severed house elf heads, and turned to a door with a tarnished silver nameplate. Sirius Orion Black. Sirius nudged the door open with his elbow.
It was as dark and austere as the rest of the house, though clearly teenaged Sirius had done his best to lighten it up — a Gryffindor banner took up half of one wall, along with a collection of muggle posters of scantily clad women posing with motorbikes. Sirius flushed sheepishly. "I was a bit enthusiastic with the Sticking charm when I was young. Wanted to piss off Mum. I'll figure out how to get them down, don't worry."
Harry snorted. "S'alright. Not like they do anything for me." At least they were muggle posters, and wouldn't wave and wink at him like the girls he'd seen in some of his dormmates' dirty mags. "This was your room, huh?"
"My childhood prison," Sirius agreed wryly. "Until I abandoned ship and moved to the Potters'. Feel free to snoop — Merlin only knows what's in here, I haven't been through it since I left."
The three Weasleys hung awkwardly in the doorway, and Harry beckoned them in. "I don't mind," he assured. "I wanted to talk to you guys anyway."
"I'd better get down to the meeting," Sirius said, rolling his eyes. He set the sandwiches down on the bed, then reached into his jacket pocket. "Moony gave me this, by the way." It was Harry's trunk, which he resized and set at the end of the bed. "I think Tonks still has Hedwig's cage."
"Brilliant, thanks." Harry gave Sirius one last hug, then let him leave. As soon as the door shut behind him, George raised his wand, putting up a privacy ward.
"Just in case Ronniekins comes snooping when he realises you're here," he declared. He perched on the edge of the bed, raising an eyebrow at one of the muggle women in the posters before leaning back against the wall. "So. How you doing, kid?"
Harry couldn't help the snort that escaped him. Kicking off his shoes, he made himself comfortable on the bed, leaving plenty of room for Ginny and Fred too. He reached for a sandwich, his stomach rumbling. "I was doing great until a dementor killed my cousin," he said flatly. All three redheads winced.
"I'm so sorry, Harry. It's awful, what happened. Even if your cousin was an arse." Ginny squeezed his hand sympathetically. "But you've been okay besides all that?"
"Yeah, mostly. I still… I still have the odd nightmare, about the graveyard," he admitted. "But Remus has been really great helping me work through stuff. And I kept busy. I'm not the interesting one, though; what's been going on here?"
Even though he'd been exchanging letters with the twins and Ginny through Remus all summer, there was still tons they hadn't talked about. Harry knew the basics, of course; the Order had meetings here, and in the mean time the kids cleaned the house. But he knew the twins had figured out a way to eavesdrop, and he wanted to know how much they knew.
He was impressed by the explanation of the Extendable Ears, though hid his smile when Ginny complained Snape was onto them and had started warding the door.
"We don't know much about what they're doing," George admitted. "But You-Know-Who has been quiet all summer. No raids, no mysterious deaths, nothing. We think he's making the most of Fudge refusing to believe he's back — gathering his forces in secret while no one's really looking for him."
Harry hummed in agreement; that fit with what little Snape had told him, and what he'd seen through his scar.
"Do you… have you been getting the Prophet, wherever you were?" Ginny asked cautiously. Harry winced; he understood her trepidation.
"Unfortunately, yes." Even without Rita Skeeter on the payroll, the Prophet was doing a fine job of coming up with ridiculous stories painting Harry as a lunatic and Dumbledore the same. Harry couldn't say he was surprised, and he didn't entirely hate the way they were discrediting the headmaster. He wasn't looking forward to going back to school, though.
The twins exchanged identical grimaces. "Yeah, it's all a bit of a mess," Fred muttered.
"Have you seen much of Dumbledore?" Harry asked. While he'd been working on his plans for the upcoming year, he'd toyed with the worry that some of his friends might be under similar Compulsion charms like he once had. Maybe that was the reason Ron and Hermione were reporting back to the headmaster on him.
He could hope.
"He's been in and out for Order meetings. Stayed for dinner once or twice," George volunteered. "I haven't seen him talk much to Ron or Hermione, though — except for when he told them not to tell you anything sensitive in letters."
"What letters?" Harry remarked, rolling his eyes. "I bet he didn't care a bit that I wasn't leaving the house, that they knew."
Here, Ginny bit her lip. "Dad brought it up a few times. He was part of your guard at first. Dumbledore reassigned him when Dad started talking about sending a note through your window to check you were okay."
"I did wonder if anyone was remotely concerned that I didn't seem to leave my room ever," Harry said derisively.
"They were all just told to let you grieve," Fred confirmed. "We tried to explain that you'd told us your relatives wouldn't let you have mail, and what they were like and all. Dumbledore wouldn't have any of it; he convinced everyone that he'd know if you were harmed in any way, and they just had to leave you be. He said it might upset you more to have contact with the magical world before you were done grieving your loss of innocence." He made a face, and Harry did the same. What a load of bullshit!
"I'm so glad it was all a ruse, or I'd really have been fucked this summer," he mused. A shudder ran down his spine when he imagined it; being tossed to the Dursleys alone and unaided, after watching a friend die and Voldemort rise again right in front of his face. That gaping hole in his chest, left to fester all summer… he would have been in a dark, dark place.
Ginny bumped her shoulder against his sympathetically. "Ron and Hermione have been in their own little world all summer. They're not together," she added quickly at his surprised look, "but they don't spend much time with us except when Mum makes us all clean together. Hermione tries to talk to me sometimes, when Ron's pissed her off, but… all she wants to talk about is you, and all the things we'd have to do to help you once you got here."
"Control me, you mean," he said, grimacing. "Merlin… I'm not looking forward to that for the next month."
"Are you going to keep pretending you're friends?" George asked. "Or has that ship sailed?"
"I think by now, Dumbledore is pretty aware I keep shedding his Compulsions," Harry said. "I don't mind him thinking that as long as he's not suspicious about the blocks." He'd spent a lot of time thinking about how he would go about the upcoming school year; the time for hiding completely had passed. Let Dumbledore think he was just having a bit of a rebellious phase; let the man try and bring him to heel. Harry putting a wrench in his plans might hopefully leave him on the back foot, and allow Susan and her scheming to start crumbling his pedestal.
"So we're all good to prank Ron this year?" Fred's brown eyes were bright with mischief. Harry grinned.
"Be my guest."
"Wicked," the twins murmured in unison. Harry almost felt sorry for Ron. Almost.
"What else has been going on, then? I thought Bill would be here? And Percy?" He thought Charlie was the only one still out of the country.
The siblings shared a loaded glance. "Bill's got a flat that Gringotts put him up in, he only comes in sometimes. Percy…" Ginny trailed off. The twins scowled.
"We don't talk about that prat anymore," George declared. Harry raised an eyebrow. That sounded like a story.
"He's practically attached at the hip to Fudge," Fred explained. "Siding with him on everything, thinks Dumbledore's cracked and you're an attention-seeking little brat. He had one hell of a row with Mum and Dad before we moved in here — said some bad shit to both of them, but Dad especially. Stormed out, we haven't seen him since. Mum cries every time she so much as thinks about him."
Harry let out a low whistle. "Wow." He never would have expected that of Percy. Supporting the Minister, yes — he had always placed a lot of importance on rules and order and authority structures. But to go against his family… that was surprising.
"Right. No talking about Percy, got it." He hummed thoughtfully, wondering if there was anything else to catch up on. It was easy with these three; he'd been talking to them all summer, there wasn't much of a gap to fill in. And he definitely didn't want to talk about Dudley or dementors or any of that yet.
Reaching for another sandwich, he grinned. "So, tell me — how hard should I go on the temper tantrum in front of the others?"
Dumbledore wanted a broken, grieving teenage boy, isolated from his friends and loved ones?
Harry would deliver that and more.
.-.-.-.
They were up in Harry's room for a few hours before Sirius knocked, letting them know the meeting was over and dinner would be ready shortly. "I'd offer you the tour, but quite frankly, the less you see of this god-awful place, the better," the animagus remarked to Harry as they walked downstairs. The twins had apparated away to go check on a potion they were brewing, while Ginny had disappeared to pester Tonks into staying for dinner.
"It is a bit… grim," Harry agreed, looking around at the peeling wallpaper and dark wood panels. "Was it any better when you were a kid?" He couldn't imagine growing up in a place like this.
"Bit cleaner," Sirius said. "But the decor hasn't changed. I swear, if I'm stuck here much longer I'm gonna gut the place and remodel it. Might be a fun project once you're all back at school."
"If the house will let you," Harry half joked. The dark magic soaked into the walls was practically tangible; he got the feeling it would fight any renovations. Sirius grinned, baring his teeth.
"That's half the fun of it, pup! Quiet, now." He put a finger over his lips, stepping cautiously into the main hall, gesturing towards a heavy velvet curtain covering most of one wall. Harry assumed it was not in fact a window.
"Your mum?" he whispered. Sirius nodded.
"She'll be the first thing to go, as soon as I can figure out how. I'll knock the damn wall out if I have to."
The kitchen was still the hub of activity, though most of the Order members had left. That was a shame; Harry was curious to meet them. He noticed Snape had gone, too. "Harry!" Ron goggled at him from across the table. "When'd you get here? Where have you been?"
"In my room. Got here a bit after two."
"Your room? You're sharing with me, mate. Mum said."
"Yeah, turns out Sirius cleared out his old room for me, so I'll be in there."
"It's good to see you, Harry. You're looking well." Hermione's voice was cautious — she clearly knew better than to expect a warm welcome. Harry clenched his jaw.
"Hermione." He nodded in her direction.
Mrs Weasley looked perplexed by the stilted interaction, but breezed through it regardless. "Sit, sit, dinner will be ready in a few. Do you want a drink, Harry, dear?"
When she offered him a glass of pumpkin juice, she set it in front of the seat beside Hermione. Harry moved it to claim the free space between Ginny and Sirius. Ginny squeezed his knee under the table.
"Have you met Tonks yet, Harry?" she asked, gesturing to the pink-haired auror on her other side. "She's great!"
"Briefly. Hi." Harry waved, making Tonks grin.
"Hiya. Finally got your land legs back?" she teased.
"Just about, yeah. You're an auror, right? I remember you from the Rita Skeeter thing."
"Ahh, that was a good day," Tonks sighed, a satisfied look on her face. "Yup, that was me! Kingsley — Shacklebolt, the other auror there, I think you met him the other night — he's in the Order too." She gestured further down the table, where the bald auror was sat talking to Mr Weasley. He looked up at the sound of his name, smiling.
"It's nice to meet you properly, Mr Potter. I'm truly sorry for the previous circumstances." He looked it, too. Harry just nodded a little stiffly.
"Tonks is also my cousin," Sirius cut in, leaning an arm across the back of Harry's chair. "I don't know if I mentioned that. Her mum's mum was my dad's sister."
"Mum was disowned when she married Dad, though," Tonks informed him cheerfully. "So we're not technically part of the Black family anymore."
"Count yourselves lucky," Sirius said, rolling his eyes. "Not exactly a great club to be part of."
"Tonks is a metamorphmagus!" Ginny enthused, before the conversation could get soured by talk of Sirius' relatives. Harry's eyebrows shot up.
"That's supposed to be really rare, isn't it?" He'd read about the trait in the Black family grimoire. Tonks smiled, her nose becoming long and narrow like the old Disney cartoon of Pinocchio.
"Rarer every generation!" she confirmed. "I'm the only one in Britain, as far as we know. There's a fair few in Europe though, and in the States. Came in handy for the disguises part of my auror training!"
"She takes requests, too. Show him the duck!" Ginny bounced eagerly in her seat, laughing when Tonks' nose and mouth became a bright yellow duck bill. "Merlin, that never gets old."
When her face was back to normal, Tonks shot Harry a wink. "What do you think?"
"Very cool," he confirmed, grinning.
The conversation was interrupted by Mrs Weasley's declaration that food was ready, and the chaos began; dishes floated every which way as people summoned what they wanted, occasionally both summoning the same thing at once and causing a minor spill. Harry was learning first-hand what Sirius had meant about his cousin being clumsy — in serving herself, Tonks had almost flung the beef shoulder across the table, caused an avalanche of mashed potato, and somehow got peas in Remus' hair.
"I'm so sorry, Remus!" she exclaimed, cheeks turning pink. The werewolf smiled, brushing the vegetables from his hair and vanishing them.
"No worries; I've had worse from food fights back in my school days."
"That was not an invitation, boys," Mrs Weasley reprimanded when the twins lit up. George pouted, making Harry snicker.
"Do all these people live here, then?" he asked, quietly, wondering how he was ever going to get peace and quiet. The Weasleys in themselves were a large crew, but there were at least five other people besides.
"No, they're just here for the free food," Sirius assured. "It's just you, me and the Weasleys here permanently. Until you lot all bugger off to school, that is." A shadow crept into his eyes, one Harry hated seeing. He pressed his knee to his godfather's.
"Sometimes I wish I didn't have to."
"Don't be silly, Harry." Across the table, Hermione pursed her lips at him. "You love Hogwarts. And you have to go back; we have our OWLs this year." She paused, smiling. "Don't worry, I've already started working on your revision schedule. And we're mostly just cleaning around here, so you'll have time to do your summer homework."
"I've already done my summer homework, Hermione," Harry told her, resisting the urge to roll his eyes.
"Again? Harry, I really wish you'd let me check it this time."
"I've been locked in my room for a month with nothing to do and no contact with the outside world," Harry bit out. "Homework was all I had — I think it's as good as it's going to get."
That seemed to knock the wind out of Hermione's sails a little.
"You know we would've written to you if we could, Harry," she insisted, ducking as a plate of bread rolls nearly decapitated her. "But even if we could have, Professor Dumbledore told us not to put any sensitive information in a letter."
"There were other ways to get in contact with me! Hell, last time I couldn't write to anyone, Ron and the twins showed up at my window! What's the matter; couldn't find your way without a flying car?" he retorted.
"The Order were watching you. They said you were fine." Ron seemed unconcerned, too busy stuffing his face
Harry stilled. "What do you mean, the Order were watching me?" He wanted to know exactly what constituted 'watching'. Especially after what happened to Dudley.
"Dumbledore assigned you guards, of course," Mrs Weasley informed him, bringing more gravy to the table. "After that awful business with the tournament, surely you didn't expect him to leave you alone all summer; anything could've happened to you!"
"And none of these guards seemed concerned that I never left the house?" Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Sirius wince at his icy tone. "Well," Mrs Weasley faltered. "After what happened with the poor Diggory boy… we rather suspected you just needed time to process."
"We were there to keep you safe," Tonks piped up hesitantly. "We didn't want to intrude."
"Keep me safe, right. And I bet you all thought I was locked in my room to keep me safe, too. Two bathroom breaks a day, meals through the cat flap. A list of chores twice my height to keep me safe." He mentally scolded himself; he hadn't meant to say that much. Beside him, Sirius stiffened.
There was an awkward beat of silence. "I'm sure your aunt and uncle were just trying to give you space, dear. It's difficult to know how to help someone grieve." Mrs Weasley finally took a seat beside her husband.
"The last thing they want is to give me space; I might get up to something unnatural," Harry drawled. "Seriously — I had people watching me twenty-four-seven, and none of you thought it was strange that I didn't so much as go in the garden?"
There were several uncomfortable faces at the dinner table. Harry didn't feel sorry for them — if not for the intervention of Sirius and Remus and Snape, the summer he was pretending to have had would have been a very real possibility; worse, even. He wouldn't have been able to use Silencing charms at Privet Drive — if Vernon had been woken up by his nightmares, Harry would have been belted raw.
"Great. Good to know people only care what happens to me when it involves Voldemort." Several people flinched at the name. "Would Dumbledore's supposed protections have told you if I'd died? If I needed help?"
"We wouldn't have let any Death Eaters get in the house, Potter," Moody snapped, his electric blue eye whizzing around its socket.
The laugh that Harry let out was cold. "Yeah, because Death Eaters are the only thing that could possibly cause me harm in that house."
"Harry, really, now—"
He ignored Mrs Weasley, green eyes flashing angrily. "For that matter, where the hell was my guard when a dementor was sucking the soul out of my cousin just round the corner?"
There were several people who wouldn't meet his gaze, then. Kingsley Shacklebolt was one of them. "I'm afraid that was an error on our parts. It was Mundungus' shift to watch you, and he… neglected to inform his relief that he'd be leaving early for a meeting."
"Mundungus who?" Harry's glare searched the group, though he knew everyone at the table. Whoever Mundungus was, he hadn't stayed past the Order meeting. Probably knew Harry would want to kill him.
"Mundungus Fletcher," Moody said. "Thief and a scoundrel, but a good set of eyes and ears to have when you're looking for unsavoury types. Idiot buggered off to see a bloke about counterfeit cauldrons."
"Meanwhile, my cousin was dying," Harry roared. "Mundungus Fletcher had better bloody hope I don't meet him any time soon, or the only place he'll be finding cauldrons is up his arse."
"Harry!" Mrs Weasley looked scandalised. "Language!"
"You didn't even like your cousin, what do you care?" Ron complained. "He was a bullying prat."
"And because of that, he deserved to die, did he?" Harry shot back. "I shouldn't feel bad that he had his soul sucked out by a monster that was looking for me, just because my cousin was a bully, is that it?"
"He didn't mean it like that, Harry." Hermione, always ready to leap to Ron's defence. "I understand you're upset, we all do. It's terrible, what happened to your cousin. But Mundungus didn't mean any harm, he feels awful about it, really!"
"Oh, that's alright then!" Harry crowed, getting to his feet and slamming his hands on the table. "Everything's fine because Mundungus didn't mean any harm. I'll just pop on back to let my aunt and uncle know, shall I? I'm sure they'd be delighted to hear it."
"Kingsley said you didn't even tell them about the dementors. They don't know anything about it," Ron pointed out.
"Yeah, because they'd bloody kill me if they knew I had something to do with it!" Harry shouted. His scar began to ache, anger coiling in his gut like a snake made of fire. "The amount of injuries I've had just from existing around them, you think I'd survive telling them that magic killed their precious boy? Worse, that magic aiming to kill me did it? They'd do Voldemort a bloody favour!"
Out of the corner of his eye, Harry saw Remus' eyes flash gold, and he knew with a sudden sick feeling that he'd said too much. His mostly-for-show temper tantrum had hit too close to the truth, in his desperation to make these people feel some sort of guilt for what they'd done all summer.
And maybe, deep down, he wanted them to know the truth. Wanted them to be aware of what he put up with every time he left Hogwarts, what he'd survived for years before learning about magic.
But he didn't want to be there to watch them react to it.
"I'm going to bed," he muttered, chair legs screeching against the tile. Just as he opened the door, several people called his name — and the velvet curtain covering Mrs Black's portrait flung wide open, revealing a large painting of an older woman with venomous eyes.
"Scum! Blood traitors and filth, in my house!" she screeched, beginning an impressive tirade. Harry ignored her, storming up the stairs to his bedroom. Merlin, he was glad Sirius hadn't made him share with Ron.
Slamming the door shut only slightly muffled the portrait's cries, and it was several minutes before things went silent again. Harry sat on his bed with his knees tucked up to his chest, his hands pressed against his face. His scar ached, and the anger was still raw within him. When he took several deep breaths, he could feel the oily taint of the horcrux within him mixed up in it all — Voldemort was angry too, and it was feeding into Harry's rage. That explained a lot.
Not all of it was Voldemort, though. Most of it was Harry. He couldn't help it — here were people who were supposed to care about him, think of him like family, and they were all too happy to leave him to fend for himself at the Dursleys' and not think twice about it. Happy to put him back in his box and forget about him until it was time for him to be Gryffindor Golden Boy Harry Potter once more.
Pushing back tears and trying to stop the raw edges of the hole in his chest reopening, he almost missed the gentle knock on the door. "It's just us, pup."
The door opened, Sirius and Remus looking sadly through the gap. "Can we come in?" Remus asked softly.
Harry made a noise that was neither acceptance nor denial, but the two men took it as permission, shutting and warding the door behind them. Sirius perched on the edge of the desk. "That was quite something, pup. Even James wasn't that good when he got going." Sirius' attempt at levity fell flat, and he ran a hand through his hair in frustration.
"Harry," Remus began, warily approaching the bed. When Harry didn't yell at him, he continued, sitting on the mattress a couple of feet from Harry's curled up form. "I know… when we took you from your aunt and uncle's house after your third year, we never really — we didn't address the situation. We were just happy to have you, and delighted to see you coming out of your shell at last." He reached out, placing a gentle hand on one of Harry's socked feet. "Perhaps that was our error. Perhaps we should've had you talk about things back then. It's too late, now. We just let Severus keep giving you potions and let you bluster on past it."
"You knew about the potions?" Harry blurted. Sirius cracked a wry smile.
"You think Ceri wouldn't tell me that healing and nutrition potions were being left in my godson's room? Hell, you think old Snape could keep a secret like that from his Moony-love?"
Remus' cheeks went pink, but he didn't falter. "Severus said it was up to you to deal with things how you preferred, and we should give you the space to do so. Considering his… experience in the matter, I followed his advice. But Harry, if you need to talk about it — any of it. We're here to listen."
"I'm over it, really," Harry insisted. "Mostly." He would never truly be past it all. He would always be the boy in the cupboard under the stairs, at least at heart. But he was growing despite that. "A lot of what I said I was just saying for effect down there. But that doesn't make it a lie, or exaggeration. Vernon really would have tried to kill me if he knew the truth about Dudley. And… the way I described the summer, the food through the cat flap and two bathroom breaks a day and the chores — that's how things were, before. After the incident with the bars on my window." He'd told them about that, he remembered. That should've given them enough of an idea even back then.
"And the scars?" Sirius asked softly, moving from the desk to the bed beside Remus.
"Are long since healed, and I'm fine," Harry insisted, squeezing his eyes shut. "You— Moony, you said I'd never have to go back there. Anything else doesn't matter."
"And I meant it," Remus promised. "Whatever happens, you'll never have to lay eyes on those awful people again, we'll make sure of it. But… if you ever want to talk about what they did to you. Or if you want to get rid of some old wounds. Even if you can't talk to us — I have it on very good authority that Severus is an excellent listener, and even better with Scar Reducing Cream," he added with a half-smile. "Any one of the three of us will do whatever we can."
"We aren't exactly the poster children for happy families, either," Sirius pointed out roughly. "Moony's parents treated him like a monster, mine tried to make me a monster, and I don't know the details of Snape's but it has to have been bad to make him such a miserable little git so young— ow, Moony!" The werewolf was unrepentant as Sirius rubbed where he'd just been hit on the shoulder. "My point is, we aren't as rose-tinted as the Weasleys. We can handle it, if you want to tell us."
Harry appreciated the thought, truly. But knowing they'd had crappy childhoods didn't make him any more eager to recount his own.
"I know, Pads," he said eventually. "I just… I just need to get some sleep, I think."
"It's been a long day," Remus agreed. He leaned in, pressing a kiss to Harry's forehead, frowning when he saw the inflamed scar. "Is it bothering you again?"
"Not really," Harry shrugged. "I'll meditate before bed, I've got my wardstone." It wouldn't stop him being dragged into a dream if Voldemort was determined, but maybe it would be one of the nicer ones — that mysterious endless corridor instead of Voldemort torturing his servants.
"If you need Dreamless Sleep, call Ceri. Severus has some in the medicine cabinet at home."
"Thanks, Moony." Harry managed a smile that was mostly genuine, if a little strained. The werewolf smoothed Harry's messy hair down.
"I'll see you in the morning, cub. Sleep well."
He left, and Harry looked expectantly at Sirius; his godfather looked like he had something to say.
"I'll never forgive myself for going after that rat bastard instead of making sure you were okay," he said eventually, voice shaking. Harry's heart clenched.
"Sirius, no, it's not your fault!"
"If I'd protected you like I was supposed to, you never would have gone to them!" Sirius argued. There were tears in his grey eyes, his face pale. "But I can't undo what I did. All I can do is promise to be better in future. You're always my first priority, pup, no matter what. I swear. I'll be a better godfather to you."
"You're the best godfather," Harry assured him, shuffling closer for a hug. "Let's face it, Dumbledore probably would have found a way to get you out of the picture somehow. He needed me to grow up thinking I was worthless." Sirius flinched at that. "It all worked out in the end, and you're here now. Please, let's just draw a line under that part of my life, yeah? It doesn't matter anymore."
Sirius sighed, his head tilting to lean against Harry's. "If you say so, kid. But if you ever want to talk. Or… don't tell Moony, but if you ever want them to pay for what they did to you… I've already served twelve years in Azkaban. I figured I've got some room to do a few things to make it actually worth it." There was a darkness in his stormy gaze — not like the darkness of Voldemort and his people, torturing for fun; more like the darkness in Narcissa Malfoy's when someone threatened her son. A reminder that Sirius was raised a dark wizard, and knew all the things a dark wizard knew. And he wasn't above using them.
"They aren't worth it, Siri," Harry insisted. "What happened to Dudley is enough." He'd done enough damage to that family with his existence. He was too tired to want vengeance. He just wanted it all to be over.
"I suppose. But the offer stands." Sirius winked, kissing Harry's forehead and getting to his feet. "I'll leave you to settle in. I'm in the room at the far end of the hall if you need me for anything. Molly and Arthur are upstairs, and the kids are all on the floor below — you should be pretty undisturbed in here."
"Thanks, Pads. I'll see you in the morning, yeah?"
"Love you, kiddo."
"Love you, too." Once Sirius had left, the door shut quietly on his way out, Harry slumped against the headboard with a long, drawn-out sigh.
It had been a long week. But he had the sinking feeling it was going to be nothing compared to the weeks left until he would return to Hogwarts.