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Author: ProfAndrews Story: A Hero's Gift Rating: Teens Setting: Pre-HBP Status: Completed Reviews: 14 Words: 1,868 Harry came back to Privet Drive later that June. He had just relished the moment when those who declared themselves to be his true family stood up for the messy-haired young man against his only blood relatives. Yet what he came away with outweighed any of the good that either the Weasleys or the Order had done for him. His heart was heavy as were his fingers numb and his eyes lifeless. Hermione had been right all along. He did have a 'saving people thing,' and this time it had backfired on him. He 'saved people' from Voldemort's legacy in his first year when searching for the Philosopher's Stone. In his second year he went into the Chamber of Secrets unprepared. Had it not been for the time turner during his third year, the consequences would have been horrific. Fourth year found him at the bottom of the lake when he was never a good swimmer to begin with. And last year he was almost responsible for a total of eleven deaths. Luckily for him he managed to squeak by with just one. One death.... That was all it took to corrupt any good thoughts he might have. That was all it took to send him late at night to the loo to empty his supper. Because of Sirius' death he was an accessory to murder. Because of the injuries sustained by his friends and the Order members, he was an accessory to assault and attempted murder. It was he who should be locked up in Azkaban, Harry thought to himself repeatedly. He even went so far as to write a letter to the Ministry, hoping to turn himself in for the crimes he committed. Hedwig, however, refused to deliver it. In fact, Hedwig refused to stay in Harry's room any longer. But she did concede to returning every three days to deliver the usual message to the Order which consisted of: All is well. Harry The statement was true, in a manner of speaking. The Dursleys left him alone for the most part, pushing food through the cat flap Vernon had installed several summers ago. The least amount of contact with the freak the Dursleys had the better, so they said several times. So Harry was left to fend for himself. Only the nightmares of his friends' misfortunes kept him company. The past cursed him with an evil grip. And if there was one thing he brought home with him from the Department of Mysteries, it was the desire to die. He wasn't a hero, as so many thought of him to be. He felt he wasn't good enough to be a friend. He had urged Albus Dumbledore to grant him his wish at the Ministry. He had secretly hoped that Voldemort fulfil this wish as well. Alas, his cries were not heard, not even when he remembered that Vernon used an electric shaver. His final plea to Hedwig was to bring him a razor as quickly as possible. Hedwig hooted angrily and left to stay with the Weasleys for the rest of the summer. Harry closed his window, followed by the curtain and likewise his life from all those who cared for the boy named Harry Potter, and not the Boy Who Lived. Little did Harry know that his actions were being mimicked in London. He sat in number twelve, Grimmauld Place, resigned to a daily bottle of Ogden's Old Firewhiskey. Tonight would be the full moon, but Remus Lupin no longer cared. He refused Tonks' delivery of the Wolfsbane Potion that would ease his transformation. Remus' heart ached for his family. For James, Lily and now Sirius, for those whom he would see one day again, that day could not arrive soon enough. For the bastard that was Peter Pettigrew, Remus wished he could meet him during his transformation. For Harry, whom he had loved like a son from the first day he'd held him in his arms -- a beautiful infant with intense green eyes, the first sign of hope during the first war -- was in Remus' heart mortally wounded. He knew Harry could never live his life as any normal young man deserved to. As a werewolf he felt useless. He could do nothing for no one in his condition, let alone Harry. But Sirius would keep him from quitting. This time there was no Sirius, therefore tonight would be one of those nights he dreamed of. Off he went to the basement of the Black family home and locked himself into the shackles of his iron cage. The rest of the evening an angry wolf thrashed about, doing as much harm to himself as possible. Outside the door, a pink-haired witch shed silent tears as she wrote passionately. *** Several owls had made repeated deliveries. Pig came with letters from Ron, Ginny, Hermione and Mrs. Weasley. A new owl, snowy white like Hedwig, would deliver messages from Fred and George. A Ministry owl would come by every other day with a message of hope from Mr. Weasley. Harry received other notes from Neville, Luna, Moody, McGonagall and even Dumbledore, whose message respectfully asked for forgiveness and understanding. But one summer day Hedwig finally returned with a letter in tow. The note was scribbled on pink parchment. Harry had been sitting on the edge of his bed with his head lowered into his hands. He didn't hear Hedwig's arrival through the thin slit of his window or curtains. She pecked at him until he looked up. Harry was much thinner now than when Hedwig had last seen him. His skin had turned to a pasty shade of blue. His eyes were circled by deep, black rims. His lips were pallid and his shirt had been encrusted in Merlin knew what. Hedwig's eyes grew while she would shed a tear for him. She wished she could do more for Harry, but right now she needed him to read the letter. "Not now, girl." His voice was no louder than a whisper. She stuck her leg out and nipped at him. Finally he took the letter but tossed it to one side. Hedwig hooted and hopped over to unfold the parchment. She nipped Harry hard. He winced and looked over. It was then that he could make out the scribbled words "help Remus." His attention had been piqued. He stood slowly and pulled the curtains back further. The sunlight blinded him. He stumbled a bit before rubbing his eyes and finding the note on his bed again. Wotcher Harry! I know everyone must have written you by now, asking how you are and if you want to talk about what happened at the Ministry. I won't do that. I know what happened, Harry, and to think you are doing all right would be mad. No, Harry, I won't do that, because there is something far more important to worry about than your feelings at the moment. I know that sounds rude, but I am desperate! Harry Potter, I need your help! Harry, please help me help Remus. Remus lost more than a friend with Sirius' death. He lost a brother, a guide and a mentor. Sirius was also his caregiver. He was the first to be concerned about the full moon, and to make certain that Remus took his potion. Well, the full moon rose the other night and Remus refused to drink it. He spent the evening clawing and biting himself. When I found him in the morning I had to call upon Madam Pomfrey to give him several Blood Replenishment potions. We almost lost him, Harry. We almost lost Remus. I don't know what he needs to live again. His daily drunken stupour makes him more dangerous to himself than the werewolf. I'm at a loss for ideas, Harry, so I'm asking you to help me get into his head and make him realise that life moves forward. I have nowhere to turn. Please help me, Harry. Love, Tonks Tonks' signature became a large ink blot where the tears that leaked from Harry's eyes fell. On the one hand, how dare she ask him... Harry Potter... a murderer... for help! On the other hand, how could she not? He loved Remus. He had been his father's and godfather's best friend. He had taken Harry under his personal guidance during his third year at Hogwarts, and helped make him into who he was today. He continuously looked out for Harry's well-being and had saved his life at the Ministry. Harry clutched the letter firmly. His body quivered with the anger that tormented his feelings. If there was one thing that Harry had not forgot, it was that he was never selfish about his friends. He took several deep breaths before sitting behind his desk and taking a quill in his hand. *** Tonks knocked gently before opening the door. On a comfy chair sat an unshaven, unwilling carcass of a man. His head lolled to one side. He snored loudly. The bedroom had a musty odour of sweat socks and alcohol. Tonks knelt next to the chair to get a closer look. Dried tears stained his cheeks. She grasped his hand and gave it a squeeze. "Remus, please wake up," her voice trembled. His eyes fluttered open. He looked around lazily before wiping the corner of his mouth. As his eyes closed again, he heard his name spoken much louder now. "Remus! You have to wake now!" This time he jumped forward and raised his wand. Tonks fell backwards. Remus turned and realised then who it was that startled him. He put his wand away and sat back down in the chair. "What is it, Tonks?" he grumbled. Tonks stood to face him. She thrust the piece of parchment forward. "It just came for you. I don't know who it's from, only that it's marked as urgent." That was a lie. Tonks knew exactly who it came from, because Hedwig had made the delivery. Remus hesitated at first, but then took the note from her hand. He opened it and scanned the scrawl. As if Christmas morning had just arrived, Remus' eyes held life once again. His scowl was now a glowing smile. He leapt from his chair and embraced Tonks before twirling her in the air. "Wotcher Remus!" "I have to find Albus, Tonks!" Remus dashed out of his bedroom. Tonks watched him go. She then turned back to the bedroom and picked up the parchment to read. Remus, An owl told me you could use a friend. If you are up to it, fancy a visit from me right now? Harry Tonks closed the bedroom door so that she could shed her tears of joy in private. Downstairs,
a once spiritless voice bellowed for all to hear: "My Harry's coming
home!" Life for Remus had a chance to begin again, thanks to a hero's
gift of hope.
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