The Sugar Quill
Author: sunnycouger  Story: The Right To Dream?  Chapter: Default
The distribution of this story is for personal use only. Any other form of distribution is prohibited without the consent of the author.

The Right To Dream?

Author: Sunnycouger (

Disclaimer: Not mine, never will be (probably a good job or else we would end up with R/Hr, H/Pan, D/G and with sizeable contributions of N/La, F/A & S/Par in the books ;)) Alas, this isn't going to happen and all the blame can be placed at JKR's doorstep. ;) The song (Superman) is by Five For Fighting and isn't mine either. Amazing song, but sadly not belonging to be so please don't sue.

Rating: R

Category: Harry fic

Summary: Harry waits for the summons to go fight the last battle of the war against Voldermort and contemplates, with Remus, the sacrifice he knows he'll have to make during it.

Authors Notes: Thank you to Zsenya for beta reading this - it's really appreciated. :) This is a fic based on the song Superman by Five For Fighting - ever since reading the end of GoF I have considered that to be a Harry song so I really had to write a fic about it. And as I started writing it just seemed to get more angst like and I had to throw Remus into the mix, and Sirius' death and a real theory I have on how the books will end and what Harry will have to do to beat Voldie and this is what I got. Hope you all like and please let me know any and all comments. Before anyone wonders - I adore Harry, he's my favourite character and I didn't do what I'm doing to him in this fic because I hate him (I mean, how can anyone hate Harry?) But this is just a theory I have and I'm pretty convinced that something similar will happen in the end, sadly. Anyone agree?

~ ~ ~ ~ ~

I can't stand to fly,

I'm not that naive.

The pale moonlight shimmered on the marble, highlighting the engraving so it almost glowed, and making it impossible for him to ignore. The broken broomstick lay in front of him, useless. How many times had he flown with it? A gift from Sirius in third year - he had used it ever since. Used it for the Triwizard Tournament, for Quidditch, for making quick trips to Hogsmeade in the middle of the night...he'd used it for everything. But, when it came down to it, when it had been really important to be quick enough, it had been useless. It had been useless at the one thing that really mattered. Harry Potter sat down with his head leaning against his knees. He couldn't remember ever hurting more - it hurt deep down inside, down where he didn't think it was even possible to hurt.

The dull ache across his forehead not even significant. All that mattered was in front of him and it ached. It pounded.

It crippled.

Harry reached up and wiped his eye, a ghost of a tear taunting him. His body wouldn't even let him produce tears anymore - that was what made it so hard. He hadn't felt like he had been able to feel enough. To grieve adequately. What would people think of him? That the man in front of him wasn't worth anything? That 'poor Harry Potter' was too absorbed in himself to care about the man that had suffered? What they didn't know was that he was grieving, he was so crushed inside that he sometimes didn't think he would be able to breathe, but he couldn't show it to the others. They needed him to be strong, they needed to see him as strong. It was his pain, how could he inflict it on them? He couldn't, so he kept it...and that was killing him.

I'm just out to find,

A better part of me.

Not that that would matter soon. In a few hours, in a few hours they would come and get him. The Boy Who Lived would have to live up to his potential. He would have to fight them and then that would be it - over. Only, he knew it wouldn't be over - it would never be over. No one understood it apart from Dumbledore. He was tied to Voldermort and as long as he lived there would always be a chance. A chance for Voldermort to live on. To come back. For it to happen all over again.

There was only one way to stop it and no one else had been brave enough to admit it to themselves, even though they must have all realised it. What was one wizard after all? In comparison to the thousands saved - what did he really matter?

The Boy Who Lived.

That sounded funny now although he couldn't bring himself to laugh. What was it about irony? Whoever had coined that phrase had jinxed him, but at least he wouldn't have to live with it much longer. Soon he would just be Harry, the boy who had a funny cut on his forehead. The orphan. The stray. The boy who lived and then died.

The Boy Who Died.

That didn't have the same ring to it, he thought. Sirius would have found it funny if he had been there. Actually, scratch that, he would have found it funny if it hadn't been about Harry. He reached out and grabbed the broom and pulled it closer to him in an embrace. It comforted him to have it so close as much as it also repelled him. Why couldn't it have been faster? Why...

He closed his eyes and took a deep breath. "I'm so sorry, Sirius..."

I'm more than a bird,

I'm more than a plane

I'm more than some pretty face beside a train,

And it's not easy to be me.

It would have been nice to get a reply - but marble couldn't talk. No matter how much he wanted it to, or needed it to he would never get the reply that would make it all right.

Eighteen years old - he was eighteen; which really didn't seem that long in comparison to someone like Dumbledore, or McGonagall or even Percy Weasley. It would have been nice to have been twenty-one like Percy - Sirius had always said to him that life began at twenty-one. He had been born when his dad had been twenty-one - he had always wondered if he would have had a child by that age as well? A kind of Potter family trait. Of course, he smiled bitterly, he would have had to find a wife first. He wasn't sure if Ginny would like the idea of being tied down that early - married and kids two years out of school? Not really Ginny's style. She had always said she didn't want to be like her mum - four kids before she was twenty-five, so on that note the chance of Harry having his home, wife, kids and successful Quidditch career at twenty-one was doubtful. Besides, it was really a hypothetical tied down now. Ginny may very well get married early - it just wouldn't be to him. Not anymore.

He bit his lip and opened his eyes. He would have quite liked to have been a husband and a father. He would have been good at it - he would have played with his kids. He would have taught them how to fly, and to play Quidditch. He would make sure they knew how much they were loved. He would never lock them under the stairs. He would have been a good father - like Sirius would have been. Sirius had never had his chance at being a father or a husband either, circumstances had got in the way of that - in the shape of Dementors and Azkaban.

"Something else we have in common, Sirius. Bachelors till the end. Footloose and fancy free? I think that's what Mrs Weasley called you..."

He knew he wouldn't get a reply but, in a graveyard filled with nothing it was his penance to look at something. The face in the crowd of blurs. The voice in the rabble. The spirit beaten but not destroyed. The closest thing to a dad that he had ever had.

That was what hurt. Sirius was practically like his dad. He didn't know if he really did, but it *felt* like he had loved him like he would have loved his dad. He felt like a dad and Harry had never told him - and it was too late now. Seconds too late...the broomstick too slow. He wondered if Sirius had considered Harry like a son? He would have liked that. To be thought of as his son - that would have been worth everything to Harry. Sirius had always had unwavering faith in him like a father had in his son but, in the end, it had proved unfounded faith- his broomstick that he had speeded on so often had only been fast enough to let Harry hear Sirius's last defiant curse before the Death Eater's green light enveloped him.

He swallowed back the lump in his throat as he looked at the inscription on the marble stone in front of him. He could still feel the cold, clammy hand in his. He could still hear his own anguished cries as he cursed the laughing Death Eater again and again. He could still smell the death in the air.

He could still remember, a few hours later, when Arthur Weasley, Dumbledore and Remus Lupin had found him clutching Sirius tightly, begging him to wake - unwilling to let him go as the Death Eater lay dead beside them. That moment was the first time that Harry could remember sobbing like a child, begging God or anyone else who would listen to change the past.

I wish that I could cry,

Fall upon my knees.

The pain had been unimaginable and hadn't diminished. Of all the deaths he'd witnessed, of all the tragedy it had been that one that had broken him. He'd killed someone, much to everyone's horror. They couldn't believe Harry had done that and didn't show any remorse. The truth was he did have remorse - he had remorse that he hadn't killed the bastard five minutes earlier - and that's what terrified everyone. They all whispered about him now, some of them were scared of him - like he would snap any minute and kill again. Very few people acted normally around him now, even Dumbledore was watching him more closely. People were scared of him. No one had realised that no one was more scared of him than he was, but that wasn't easy to explain without it sounding like he was crazy.

"They don't understand me anymore, Sirius. I don't think anyone does," he whispered. "I don't want to hurt anyone but I can't just leave...I have a job to do."

He reached out his hand and touched the cold headstone as he kept his voice low. "I'll tell you a secret, Sirius...I don't want to die..."

And he didn't. It terrified him. He had struggled to live for so long and to give it up now? It would be like conceding defeat. Letting them win. Snape would have blamed his insolent Gryffindor pride on it.

"You're supposed to die and you live, now you're supposed to live and you'll die? Does that mean if I was to tell you not to stick your head into a vial of Fezala potion you would do it? I mean, if that's all I had to do you could have at least had the decency to tell me in first year when I would have been spared your insolence for seven years."

He smiled at the mental image, for some reason he kept imagining Snape like Neville had seen him in the Boggart in third year. He hadn't thought of that in ages...

Harry shifted his weight so he was now sitting beside the head stone as he looked up at the stars. "D'you think it'll hurt? Did it hurt? Will it depend on what spell I use on him? Yeah, I know...I'm being know, it's kind of nice here. Peaceful. I'm glad we got you some place nice. You, Mum and Dad. Bet you guys are having a ball up there...I'll swap you, you can come back and tell the others what I have to do and I'll ask some advice from Mum and Dad. No deal? Don't blame you..."

Find a way to lie

about a home I'll never see.

He knew he was babbling to no one. Any passing wizard would have thought he was off his trolley but he needed to work things out on his own head before he saw the others. He could vividly imagine how the others would react and that didn't make the prospect of telling them any more appealing. Dumbledore would know of course, since it had been him that had made Harry aware of the possibility. Remus, Arthur and Molly would all know as well, although they would be denying it was an acceptable option. McGonagall would be shocked that Dumbledore had even brought it up as a possibility. Snape wouldn't give a toss either way. Ron...Ron would be destroyed and try every trick in the book to stop it happening. The rest of the Weasley boys would be the same. Hermione would cry but accept it eventually which would just make Ron angrier. Ginny...Ginny wouldn't even look at him. She would ignore him and it would crush him but she'd do it anyway.

And after that was done? That would be that - game on. He would go and do what he was born to do. What everyone expected him to do. He would fight Voldermort - and he would win. He'd then kill Voldermort and at the same time Harry would just end. The spell that Dumbledore had given him would work and instead of one thing dying in the flash it would be two.

Life, for the wizarding world, would begin again. No threat. No return. No danger.

It would have been nice to have been there...


Harry immediately drew his wand and pointed it in the direction the faint voice had come from. He would not be hunted if it was Death Eaters, the job he had to do was too important for them to ruin it now. "Who's there?"

"Harry, it's just me..."

He sighed and lowered his wand hand on hearing the soft Irish lilt of Remus Lupin in the darkness. He must have come to take him back to get ready for the fight. His insides began to constrict - he thought he would have had more time to get used to the idea before he had to actually go and fight. He mentally shook himself - this is what he was made to do. So he had to do it a bit quicker, it wouldn't kill him...well, not right away...

It may sound absurd,

But don't be naive

Even heroes have the right to bleed.

"'s time to go back? Already?" Harry asked, hoping Remus didn't hear the desperation on his voice.

Remus stepped out of the shadows, concern etched across his face as he looked at Harry. "Excuse me?"

" it time?"

The older man shook his head and sat down beside Harry. Harry looked up at him as they sat in an uncomfortable silence - he had grown to look a lot healthier since Harry had first met the werewolf. The premature ageing had subsided and he now looked very much his age, although the dark rings under his eyes in the past few months made Harry think that Remus was losing the fight to remain in control of the darkness inside him that was trying to consume him, like it had in the years prior to his arrival at Hogwarts. The struggle was beginning to tell on his body again and Harry knew that the death of the man in the grave in front of him had a lot to do with that. "I'm sorry, this must be hard for you."

Remus turned his head and gave Harry a joyless smile that was laced with pain. "No harder than it is for you, Harry. I'm worried about you, it's not healthy for you to be spending as much time in the company of ghosts."

Harry shrugged his shoulders. "I wish he was a ghost...he'd be able to yell at me for moping then. Be able to tell me what I should be doing..."

Remus smiled and reached out and put a hand on Harry's back. "He would yell at you for moping, but you know as well as I do that his advice would be to go out and have fun while he tried and fixed things."

Harry smiled. Yeah, that was Sirius all right.

"So, what are you doing out here?"

"Just...wanted to say goodbye..." Harry began in a small voice as he looked down at his hands. "Tell him I was sorry, ask his opinion..."

Remus's eyes widened as Harry spoke, but he quickly hid it as he answered, "He'd be really mad if he heard you apologising - you know, as well as we do, that you have nothing to apologise for, right?"

Harry sighed and shrugged his shoulders. He couldn't expect anyone to understand so it was better to placate them any way he could.

"So can I ask what you wanted his opinion on?"

"Dunno, fighting..." Harry dropped his voice to an almost inaudible whisper as he continued, "how it'll feel to die..."

I may disturbed,

But won't you concede

Remus took a sharp intake of breath. "Don't say that - that's not going to happen. You aren't going to die! Arthur, Severus and I..."

"All know the spell that Dumbledore found, and why he looked for it, and what it does," Harry finished for Remus before giving a small smile that couldn't detract from how strangely resigned his voice was. "I don't mind that you all know - it makes a lot of sense..."

"Albus...Albus had no right to look out that spell in the first place- it's not an option!" Lupin's voice was cold and angry which Harry had never heard from his former professor before. "He will not get the consent that he needs from any of us,

I promise you. He will apologise for even mentioning it to you!"

Harry smiled sadly as he looked at Remus. He didn't know... "You know what day it is today? Date I mean?"

Remus blinked in confusion as he answered. "It's...July 30th, why?"

"Check your watch..."

Remus looked down at his watch as Harry did the same thing, just to confirm what he knew. 01.56, July 31st - as Remus looked at the watch a flash of pure horror washed over the features of one of Harry's fathers best friends as the bitter realisation dawned on him. He looked at Harry and shook his head. "No. No, Harry - no! You can't..."

"I'm eighteen now - he doesn't need anyone else's consent. He has mine..."

"You are barely eighteen! This is not happening today or any other day!" Remus grabbed Harry's hand in a speed that Harry had never seen from him before and spun around until he was looking directly in Harry's eyes. It hurt Harry, to have someone look at him with all that pain, fear and loneliness showing in their eyes. He didn't want to hurt anyone. "Listen to me, Harry. You will not give consent - it's suicide! Dumbledore won't put that spell on your wand or I swear, greatest wizard of our age or not, I'll have him charged with murder if Molly doesn't kill him first."

Harry looked down. It should have made him feel good that they wanted to fight for him, but didn't they see that it was for the best? "It won't be Dumbledore that puts the spell on my wand..."

"You can't! You're a child, the power it would do you even know about it?"

"I heard Dumbledore talking about it to Sirius. Sirius got really angry but Dumbledore kept saying it was the only way and left the spell when he went..."

"He did what? Even after Sirius said no?" Harry looked on in wonder as the gentle professor launched into a torrent of obscenities, his hazel eyes clouded over in anger. "Harry, matter what Dumbledore says, is not the way. There are other options..."

"If he came back - how many people would have to die needlessly? Even if it was just many people have to die because of me?"

"Self pity isn't very becoming, Harry. You have as much right to live as anyone - more even."

Harry sighed and looked down, it really was too much to expect them to understand. "Please, it's hard think it was easy for me to accept this? You think I want to die? You think it doesn't hurt to know this is as good as it gets? You think part of me doesn't hate Dumbledore for this? Please, don't make it harder. Please understand..."

Remus closed his eyes and turned his head away from Harry's direction. "Were you happy, Harry? Before Sirius died?"

Even heroes have the right to dream?

And it's not easy to be me.

Harry looked down and smiled. He had been happy - he had everything he had ever wanted. Living with Sirius, he had his best friends, he'd been in love with a girl he'd honestly thought he could have lived with forever. Viktor Krum, his friend from the Triwizard days, was spreading the word of his capabilities as a Seeker all over Europe and the rumour was that he could have his pick of the clubs when he finished Hogwarts because of Viktor's insistence on having some genuine competition in the European league. And Oliver Wood, in opposition to Harry leaving the country, was already sizing him up for Montrose Magpies robes. Life had been good. Better than good - it had seemed perfect.

Then the facade had dropped and it had all shattered.

Sirius had died and Harry had shut himself off from all the others that he had needed most. Viktor had been captured and the Death Eaters had taken his hands for him daring to be friends with Harry and openly trying to help him. Oliver...Oliver had chosen to leave Quidditch to join the fight against Voldermort after he had arrived home to find the Dark Mark hovering over his house that had contained his mother, father and fifteen-month-old daughter. And all this had happened in a month...

Everything that had seemed so perfect, so right had suddenly crumbled leaving images of what might have been in its place.

"Yes...I had been happy..."

Remus nodded his head and gave a smile. "I know you were, you could see it in your face. You looked, for the first time since I've known you, like a teenager. If I had said to you back then that you would kill yourself a few months later you would have thought I was crazy. But now, now you have this...this death wish!" He was speaking with passion, as he clenched his fist before looking at Harry desperately. " deserve so much more than that, Harry. You have been so much more than you ever should have been through. Why, why is this even a thought?"

"Because it's my destiny. No one else can do it. Dumbledore said..."

Remus punched the ground. "To hell with Dumbledore! It's nothing to do with him! We lived with Voldermort for years - you are a child. A child!"

"I'm not a child! I have to deal with this, please don't make this any harder for me. Please, Remus. I need someone to say that it's okay. Someone who would know what my Mum and Dad would think. Someone who would know what Sirius would think and someone who isn't afraid to accept it. I need to know that someone thinks that this is the right thing. That it's okay..."

Remus brought both hands to his eyes and spoke through them. "I can't tell you that they would condone you killing yourself, I can't and I won't lie to you. No, it's not the right thing. I'm sorry..."

Harry closed his eyes. Why wouldn't he at least lie to him? They sat in silence for a moment before Remus whispered something that was almost impossible to hear.

"Sorry? I didn't hear..."

"I want to know what you want, Harry? If I could give you one thing to make you feel better...what would it be?"

Harry bowed his head. What would it be? He lifted his gaze to look at the broom and fought the urge to touch it. "I want to fly...I want to fly so fast that I forget. That I forget to hurt..."

Up, up and away, away from me

Well it's alright

You can all sleep sound tonight

I'm not crazy or anything...

"Then fly," Remus said as he knelt up, grabbed the broken broom and thrust it into Harry's hands. "Fly away from here, go now."

Harry shook his head. "I can't..."


"Because, it'll never be fast enough...never."

Remus closed his eyes before looking at Harry, tears looking like they were ready to fall. Harry felt his heart ache - he didn't want to hurt anyone.

"Harry, I'm begging you - leave. Go tonight before they come for you. Please, if not for me then for Sirius...for Lily! She died to save you seventeen years ago, please don't let your grief cause you to do this. Please, Harry. Please."

Harry looked down. Tears threatened to fall from his own eyes but he desperately fought against them. The sacrifice his mother had made for him and the fact that he was giving it up now tearing him up inside. She would have died for nothing if he did it...he didn't want her death to be in vain. It had to mean more than that? Her sacrifice had to mean something - how could he go and throw it away? But...but, he had to. He had to! Even though it would be so easy to leave, so good to just fly.

He didn't think anyone would blame him. Some of them might even be happy that he'd got away - that he was safe. It would be so good to just fly... He reached out and touched the broom. If it wasn't broken would he fly with it? Could he bear to feel the air biting his face knowing that the last time he flew he wasn't fast enough to make any difference? Would he be fast enough this time? Would he be fast enough to escape his guilt? His conscience? His destiny? If it wasn't broken...would he be fast enough to live?

Remus whispered a spell that Harry didn't recognise and the broom suddenly joined together again. Harry didn't take his eyes off it. It wasn't broken...

"Fly Harry, I'll tell the others. Go now."

Fly like a coward. Like a bird. He'd be free. He'd be just Harry. Nothing less, nothing more. He could be normal. He could live. "But...the war..."

"Will go on without you. We'll win it without you. Go. Please," Remus begged. "You don't need to be here - fly away from this."

Harry reached out and grabbed the broom and stood up. This was his last chance - he'd never make it away other wise. He could go away and be free. No expectations. Then, then one day he would come back and make it up to people. He would see them all again. He would be older and he'd be ready to do it. He'd be ready to make the sacrifice.

He didn't want to die...and if he flew he wouldn't have to. Not yet. He threw his leg over the broom and closed his eyes as he prepared to kick off. They would understand. They would know that he would be back for them.


He let the broom fall from his hands at the sound of the voice and clenched his eyes shut so tight that the tears seeped out through the lids. Dumbledore.

I can't stand to fly,

I'm not that naive.

Men weren't meant to ride

With clouds between their knees.


"Going somewhere, Harry?"

Harry spun around to see Remus with his hands over his eyes as Dumbledore wore a grave expression. "Nowhere, I wasn't going anywhere..." he whispered.

Dumbledore nodded his head as he looked at Harry sadly. "Good, it's time. It's time to go back, Harry. It's time for us to go."

Remus jumped up and immediately stood in front of Harry and shook his head. "No. No, he's not going back. He's leaving."

Dumbledore nodded his head and turned his gaze towards Harry. His voice soft. "Is that true, Harry? Where are you going?"

Harry couldn't trust himself to speak so he dropped his head to look at his feet.

"He's just leaving. I cannot believe you would willingly sanction murder! I thought more of you than that, to go over Sirius' head! No, you are not taking him!"

"If Harry doesn't want to go he doesn't have to," Dumbledore said, never taking his gaze from Harry. "If you want to go Harry, you can go. Where would you like to go? Perhaps we could get you a Portkey?"

Harry shook his head and kicked his shoes against the ground.

"It would save you from flying. It would be safer...just tell me where you're going."

"Away from you and your twisted plans! Have you mentioned the reason for leaving the fight to today to Molly and Arthur? No, because you know what they would say. You put ideas into his head and haven't got the courage to stand up for them! I thought more of you than that, Albus!"

"I'm afraid I don't know what you're talking about, Remus. Any suggestions I have made to Harry I haven't hid from anyone. If anyone had asked I would have told them. You as well. I believe everyone was aware of how the Dark Lord would be defeated and the part that Harry would play. Everyone was aware of this."

Harry didn't want to look up as the pair of them continued their exchange - Remus with his agitated tone and Dumbledore with his calm that was just infuriating Remus even more. He wanted to speak, to let them know that he didn't want to be spoken to like he wasn't there. That he was still alive. But he couldn't...he didn't know what he was supposed to say.

"I am not letting him commit suicide! To hell with you, to hell with Voldermort and to hell with the fucking war! I am not letting you kill James's and Lily's son, I am not letting you send Harry to be in a grave next to Sirius's. I am not letting you sacrifice him for anything!"

"It's not your choice, Remus," Dumbledore began before he looked straight at Harry with a grave expression. Harry couldn't help but notice that Dumbledore looked every day of his 160 odd years as he began to speak again. "You see, when it comes down to it people have to follow their own hearts and live with the consequences. If that means that Harry chooses to fly away and not tell anyone where he's going then that is his decision. If that's the choice he's willing to live with, then that is his prerogative. If, though, as I suspect he can't do that - if he can't bear the thought of the guilt he'd feel as his friends fought in his stead, if he can't handle that pain, that uncertainty. If he can't do that, then he will come back with me. He will make the choice that feels right in his heart. What choice is that, Harry? Do you want to live your dream or fulfil your destiny? Because I think that deep down you know that some dreams should always remain just that - dreams. Some things are more important - and I know you know what that is. I know it's scary - but I think you know it's also right. Don't you Harry?"

I'm only a man,

In a funny red sheet,

Looking for Kryptonite

In a one way street.

Remus looked at Harry, his eyes pleading. "Don't, don't listen to him. know that you don't need to do this. You're not a super hero, it's not your job to save the world. Please, please..."

Dumbledore's words were like ice, freezing and numbing his insides and up until Remus had spoken, Harry had believed he could take a stoical approach. Up until that point he could comfort himself with words of destiny and being right. He could pretend that it was just a fruitless dream he was yearning for. He could pretend that he wasn't terrified because he was serving a higher purpose. But then, the warmth of Remus's voice. The desperation of his tone, the way it sounded like he was battling back his own emotions. All that made it real - melted the numbness so he couldn't remain impartial. This was a real man who was crying for him. This was him begging Harry to live. This was the last chance he had to leave. And that hurt.

It hurt because he knew that he would break the man's heart, he would sever the last link he had to his most loved friends. That he would cause Remus to hate Dumbledore until the day he died. It hurt because he knew that Remus would watch him die and blame himself for not convincing Harry enough to live. That's what hurt, not the fear of what he would face. Not the pain of telling the Weasleys, not even the pain of seeing Ron cry. What hurt was that he was destroying this man, this good man in front of him, he was destroying his life and that there would be no one left to fix it. Who was left to heal him after Harry had gone? Who could laugh at the memories of Harry, Remus and Sirius attempting to make Christmas dinner? Who else knew what it was like to feel like a stray until they met Sirius? Who would tell Remus that he wasn't to blame for James? Or Lily? Or

Arabella? Or Sirius?

Or Harry?

I'm only a man,

In a funny red sheet,

Looking for special things

Inside of me!

Harry looked at the broom longingly before stepping over it and wrapping his arms around Remus who couldn't stop the sob escaping as he clutched Harry. Harry knew that this would be hard for him, hard to accept that the last link to James and Sirius was dying, leaving him alone. It was hard for him to accept that the godson of the man he'd loved so much was going against Sirius' wishes. Harry really didn't have to say anything to him. He knew.

"I have to..." Harry whispered, praying that he could be strong enough to support the man in front of him. "You'd do the same..."

Remus pulled back and wiped his eyes. "I know...I just wish...I wish this wasn't real. But, wishes are exactly that - just dreams."

Inside of me

Inside of me

Inside of me

Inside of me

Harry looked down briefly before he looked back at Remus and forced a smile on his face. "Yeah, but look on the bright side - now I won't need to explain to Ron why I won't go play for the just got to know that he'd have killed me for that anyway. And it would probably have been a lot more painful..."

Remus let a small, forced laugh escape as he wrapped his arm around Harry. "He's going to kill you anyway. Harry,'s not going to be easy for you to tell them. They are going to be upset," he looked up at Dumbledore at this point, his eyes wild, reminding Harry of the werewolf that lurked beneath the surface. "But, if you are certain...if you are 100% once you've spoke to them, I'll...I'll talk to them."

Harry nodded his head and gave a sad smile. That would help. "Thanks..."

Remus turned Harry around to look at him. "Harry, I know I'm not blood, I know I'm not family, I know we have no real tie to each other but...but..."

Harry nodded his head to cut Remus off. He didn't need it spoken, he knew. He knew. "I know, I feel the same - it was nice...having an uncle. Thank you for that..."

Remus pulled Harry in for a tight hug before pulling back. "Thank you."

"Can I...can I get a couple of minutes? Before we go back? Just know, say goodbye..."

Remus simply nodded his head, turned away from Harry and walked to Dumbledore. "I hope you can live with this. Because I will never forgive you."

Dumbledore sighed and looked at Remus. "I shall never forgive myself, but few for the many, Remus. Few for the many..."

I'm only a man,

In a funny red sheet

Harry bent down and touched the headstone. "I know you'll be angry, but I hope you understand. This is what I have to do - it's what you would have done. It's what my dad would have done. It's my destiny - my turn to be the kind of man you and dad were. It's not easy but I know you'll understand...'bye..."

Bye. That was that. He stood up and looked at the broom with a resigned smile before bending down and picking it up. So close. He slung the broom over his shoulders and walked over to Dumbledore. "I'm ready."

Dumbledore nodded gravely. "If there were any other way..."

I'm only a man,

Looking for a dream

I'm only a man,

In a funny red sheet,

Harry nodded his head and began walking slowly ahead of Dumbledore but behind Remus. He couldn't smile and pretend that he was happy. He couldn't pretend he wasn't angry at Dumbledore the same way he couldn't pretend he wasn't terrified. But, he was something else. He was proud - he was proud that he would be doing that good. He was proud that his family would be proud of him and most of all he was proud that he had affected some people enough that they would care for him even thought they weren't related by blood.

He was Harry Potter - the Boy Who Lived. The boy with the funny-shaped scar on his forehead. He was just a man, but so much more to other people and he finally had a chance to prove it. And just maybe, just maybe he would stop hurting as he proved that. He wore a determined expression as he wiped his eye - the last tear this man would cry. He would not whimper like the baby Voldermort had been broken by, he would roar like a man. Like a lion. Like a Gryffindor.

He would be enough - he would do what he was destined to do.

He was Harry Potter - the Boy Who Died. And no amount of dreaming would ever change that.

And it's not easy

It's not easy to be me.


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