In which Harry discovers the consequences of his own actions and others’.

You are waiting on a beach

for a healing word to come

maybe an apology in a bottle

maybe a flare that says, "I'm sorry."

and the hurting leaves you numb

Harry stumbled down to the kitchen the next morning only half-awake. It was only when he felt the magic surge as he approached the occupied room that he remembered his new ‘ability,’ and his mood dropped accordingly. He focused and discovered the identities of his current benefactors of magical energy—Tonks and Mrs. Weasley. Somehow he was less than surprised given the early morning hour. Gathering the magic into a virtual invisibility cloak, he stepped into the doorway to do some magically advanced eavesdropping.

“I know it’s hard to understand,” Molly Weasley was saying, “but Arthur pointed it out to me. Did your father ever Tie you to himself or anyone else when you were a child?”

“No—my dad’s a muggle,” Tonks answered. “My mum did, though, loads of times. That’s why I decided to do that—I just didn’t expect Harry to react so strongly, or to be so darned stubborn!”

“Harry’s relatives are Muggle, N—Tonks. Arthur’s sure that’s why he reacted so strongly—the closest Muggle equivalent would be some contraption called a “handcuff,” and they only use that on criminals.”

Harry had a prime view of Tonks, which included at the moment a face that distinctly resembled a fish out of water, no metamorphmagus transformations necessary. “But—but—“ she stuttered. “Oh Merlin! I just wanted him to talk to you; I didn’t mean it like that!”

Molly nodded sympathetically. “I know that, dear, but Harry doesn’t understand. Besides, that boy doesn’t talk about anything until he is good and ready—I’ve even heard Albus complain about it.” Mrs. Weasley seemed to be torn between irritation and pride, though Harry had no idea why she would be proud.

“Why doesn’t anyone tell me these things?” Tonks complained. “I just keep sticking my foot in it, over and over!”

“That does seem to be the theme of the summer,” Harry thought drily, but he remained silent to hear more.

“None of us know much about him,” Mrs. Weasley replied sadly. “Even Arthur and I, after he’s stayed at our house during several summers. He just refuses to trust adults.”

Harry found it odd to hear himself spoken of like this—it had never occurred to him that adults might actually care if he trusted them, for one thing.

“Well, now we know why, I suppose. Did it not occur to anyone to check on him?”

“What’s this, dear?” Mrs. Weasley asked. Her sudden suspicion tipped both Tonks and Harry off to an important fact—no one had told the Weasley matriarch about the Dursleys, probably on purpose. Harry decided that it was time to rescue Tonks, along with his secret. He could pretend that he was coming down for breakfast, but he wasn’t hungry anymore. Instead he pounded up the stairs to attract their attention, and got the attention of one incredibly obnoxious dead woman in addition.

“Filth! Half-breeds! Blood traitors!” Sirius’ mother screeched from behind her curtain. Suddenly, Harry had a brilliant idea. Sweeping the curtain back (which only increased the volume of the screaming and the variety of the insults), he focused on the magic in the portrait as he had with the coat rack before.

Almost instantly the portrait fell with a clunk to the ground. Sirius’ mother fell silent in shock for a moment before continuing her shrieking louder than ever. “What happened to the Permanent Sticking Charm?” Tonks wondered aloud, and Harry heard the first clunks as newly awakened occupants ventured down the stairs.

Harry, however, could still feel some magic remaining in the portrait, and he hoped that removing it would silence the old hag once and for all.

The magic, however, seemed insistent on fighting back. It held firmly to the portrait and when he finally pulled it free, it lashed against him. Everything went dark for a moment and then he began to scream. His whole body, and especially his scar, felt as though Crucio were being cast upon it.

When he came back to himself, his friends and many of the adults were gathered in a large circle around him. With a great effort he pushed himself to a sitting position, avoiding meeting the eyes of anyone around him.

“Harry?” Ron asked tentatively. “You alright, mate?”

Harry smiled wearily. “’m fine, mate.” He tried to pull himself to his feet and failed. Ron bravely stepped forward, and his pace increased along with his confidence when there was no sudden surge of magic in the air. A moment later, he was helping Harry to his feet.

“Professor Dumbledore is coming,” Tonks said. Remus watched with a worried expression but didn’t speak, and Snape was absent, for which Harry was very thankful.

“He doesn’t need to come,” responded Harry in a voice just above a whisper. “i did something idiotic, but I’m fine.” He made toward his room and Ron kept his arm around Harry’s shoulders. Ginny and Hermione moved to follow, but Harry held up a hand. “Please,” he pleaded as they came too close. “I can’t,” he explained in a choked voice.

“It’s okay, Harry, just rest,” Ginny replied as they stopped following. Hermione nodded and he smiled weakly.

“So what happened mate?” Ron asked after Harry had collapsed onto his bed.

“I did, as Snape would say, ‘an abysmally stupid’ thing,” he responded. “I killed S-sirius’ mum.”

“You—what?” Ron asked, confused. “She was dead.”

Harry shrugged. “Well, I removed her magic from the portrait. Only problem was, her magic fought back.”

Ron grimaced. “Yeah, you were screaming something awful—and you Stunned Remus when he tried to help you.”

Harry looked up quickly. “I did?” He was surprised—he hadn’t heard anything through his screaming. Someone must have Enervated Remus before the magic stopped attacking him.

Ron nodded. “Well… I suppose I should let you rest before Dumbledore gets here,” he said hesitantly.

Someone came to the door and both boys winced as a crackle of magic swept through the room. Harry shuddered and shook his head. “I’ve gotta get out of here.”

Ron frowned. “Where will you go? They won’t let you leave Grimmauld Place, and even if you could get out, it would be dangerous.”

Harry gritted his teeth in frustration. “I’ll just go to the park or something. And if the Order can’t find me when they know when I left and where I left from, how will the Death Eaters?”

Ron looked uncomfortable with this logic. “You’re going to get into a lot of trouble, Harry…” he protested weakly.

“Since when do we care about that, Ron?”

“Since my best friend went rushing into danger and I wasn’t invited along!” Ron exclaimed. He paused, obviously hoping for said invitation.

Harry sighed. “I’m not rushing into danger, Ron, and I just have to get away from all this magic! And if the Order catches me, then I’ll still be safe. Please, will you help me—just to get out the door?”

“Only if you promise not to stay out too long, even if no one catches you,” Ron replied finally. Harry nodded. “How long, then?” his best friend continued to push.

“I’ll be back for my meeting with Gordon this afternoon,” Harry compromised, though he wasn’t sure he really wanted to be back that early. “Deal?” Ron nodded and offered a half-smile.

“So what do you need?” Ron asked. Harry gave him a blank look. “You said you wanted help,” he prodded.

“Erm…” Harry thought quickly. “Go ahead and leave the room, but be at the top of the stairs when Dumbledore comes in here,” he responded finally. “Then I’ll just need you to stick with me down to the door.” Ron nodded.

“Will do, mate. Just don’t tell anyone I helped, alright?”

Harry grinned. His mood was already lifting at the idea of escape. “That’s right—Ron the perfect prefect!” He laughed out loud at Ron’s red face. “Nothing wrong with that—one of us has to have a façade of responsibility, and it certainly can’t be me!”

Ron appeared relieved when Harry referred to this new development as a façade, and after another smile he left the room. Then Harry began to prepare his deception.

When the headmaster showed up twenty minutes later, he was sitting directly next to the door to his room. He had heard Ron questioning his mother and Tonks, so he knew he was close by, if not within his range. He felt the headmaster coming before he even heard him, and immediately drew the energy around himself to make himself invisible. He knew he would have to act quickly, since he didn’t know how much the headmaster could sense the magic around him, or if he could see Harry when he was invisible.

The door opened and he slipped through just before the headmaster closed the door. His distraction had worked—he had put pillows under the covers in the classic schoolboy trick, hoping for that split second distraction wherein the headmaster thought he was in bed hiding under the covers. It wouldn’t have been such an odd reaction for him, based on his behavior recently.

Staying invisible he rushed to where he could see Ron standing watch over the corridor. He grasped his friend’s arm lightly and drew the invisibility around his friend, attempting to add a silencing charm to the mix. “Shh… walk with me, please,” he begged his best friend. Harry heard a commotion behind them, up the stairs, and kept his hold on Ron’s arm to keep him from stopping and looking back. “They just realized that I’m not in my room,” he whispered. “Thank you so much for helping me.”

“No problem, mate. That’s what I’m here for.”

“Well…” They had reached the front door. “Okay, I need you to pretend that you just saw me go out the front door, and do whatever you would do. The adults’ response should be what I need.” Ron nodded, and Harry made him visible again.

Harry watched the redhead rush over to the door and try to open it, unsurprisingly setting off an alarm. He had doubted that they would leave such a large loophole in their protections, considering how loyal his friends were to him.

Mrs. Weasley came rushing into the room and stormed toward Ron. “What are you doing, Ronald Weasley?” she roared.

“Mum, Harry just went out the door! I don’t know how he did it, he looked like he was focusing on something and then he just opened the door and ran out!”

“Oh dear,” was the Weasley matriarch’s response. Then she raised her voice to full volume, “Tonks! Headmaster!”

Tonks was the first to make it into the room, but she tripped over a coat rack and went sprawling onto the ground. As she scrambled to her feet she gasped, “What is it??”

“Ron said that Harry just went out the front door; he set off the alarm when he tried to follow!”

Tonks frowned. “How would he do that?”

Ron, ever the strategist, had apparently figured out Harry’s plan. “If you aren’t going to go after him, at least let me!” Ron demanded, snapping the two women out of their argument just as Dumbledore entered the room.

Tonks snapped into action and opened the door immediately. Harry just managed to squeeze through in between her and Mrs. Weasley. He ignored whatever Dumbledore was saying and broke into a run.

He just managed to duck behind a hedge as he went out of range of the last of them and became visible. He quickly focused on changing his appearance—red-headed with freckles and blue eyes should do it, he thought. And change the facial structure just barely.. He was glad he had changed his clothes in his room. He crawled a bit further into the neighbor’s yard before standing up and completely ignoring the commotion in the yard next door. A muggle couldn’t see anything that was happening.

“Mum, I’m going to the park!” he yelled, and then started walking without waiting for a response. A moment later he felt a magical presence approaching and prayed that the game was not up.

“Excuse me, have you seen a black-haired boy recently?”

He stopped and looked at Tonks, who fortunately for her was wearing clothes that were semi-normal. The shirt, however was for the Weird Sisters. He stared at it curiously as though he had never seen such a thing, and Tonks crossed her arms over her chest immediately to hide it. “Black-haired? Where would he have been coming from?” he asked with a frown.

“Number tw—fourteen,” she replied quickly. He gave her an interested look.

“The family next door all have brown hair, and you’re not one of them,” he frowned. He hoped that no one had paid any attention recently to the comings and goings of the muggle neighbors, since he didn’t know if he was correct.

“He’s my cousin, and we’re visiting,” Tonks replied. “Have you seen him, or not?”

Harry frowned. “No, sorry. The hedges are rather high, and I was just finishing some weeding for my mum.”

The metamorphmagus looked disappointed. “Oh well, thank you for your help.”

He nodded pleasantly. “Good luck finding him,” he replied amiably. “Maybe I’ll see you around.”

“Maybe…” Tonks replied dubiously, and he turned and continued walking in the direction he had been going.

When he made it around the corner and had not felt any more magical presences, he heaved a sigh of relief. His gait deteriorated slightly as his exhaustion caught up to him, but he forced himself to keep going. Four blocks later he could see a park up ahead of him, and seven blocks later he collapsed onto a swing. The playground was at the corner of a fairly large park, and was empty, presumably due to the early morning hour. Wearily he held the chain and leaned his head against his arm.

He never actually closed his eyes, but his attention drifted enough that he failed to be aware of children beginning to arrive at the park. He came to himself when he felt a tap of magic against his aura. It was odd because the tap did not herald the entrance of someone into his magical space, but was instead an isolated event. He started to frown in confusion before realizing that the loud voice in the back of his mind was actually coming from the woman in front of him.

“—listening to me?” she was questioning at a near yell. “I’ve been talking to you for the past five minutes! Clear out and let the kids have the swing—that’s what it’s there for, not for vagrants to sleep on!”

His brain finally registered that she was not so politely asking him to leave the playground. He gave her the benefit of the doubt and assumed she had been more polite at the beginning, when he had not heard her.

“Sorry, ma’am,” he responded, ducking his head submissively as he nearly leapt out of the swing. “I must have fallen asleep—I didn’t mean to keep the kids from the swings.” He looked around and saw that there were indeed kids in the plural; the park had apparently filled in his mental absence. The woman nodded, satisfied, and he walked stiffly from the playground under her watchful eye.

He was tempted to collapse immediately on the grass once he had left the sandbox, but when he remembered the strange tap of magic he decided against that. He still couldn’t feel anyone or anything magical in his vicinity, but that could change. He certainly didn’t want to risk drifting off or actually falling asleep, unless he wanted to wake up back in Grimmauld Place.

Another tap, a bit harder this time. It was almost as though someone were trying to wake him up or get his attention, except that didn’t seem to be the magic’s intention. He tried to question it as to what its intention was, but it was gone before he could try. Not that he was certain that such a thing would work; he’d commanded magic (at least that was how he thought of it) but never tried to converse with it. Perhaps he was simply going insane. That seemed like a plausible option, now that he thought about it.

Well, if he were going to go insane, he’d rather do it in a more private location. With this in mind, he began meandering his way toward a nearby grove of trees, carefully not quickening his pace. He had no interest in attracting anymore attention like that of the woman who had just finished scolding him.

Another tap. He scowled; he had wanted to get away from magic for a reason. This tapping was a bit like prodding at a gaping wound, and felt about as pleasant. Despite his best efforts he sped up slightly as he neared the trees, which ended up being a good thing. No sooner had he reached a tree than he ducked behind it as he felt a magical presence come into his range directly behind him. Tonks.

His control over the magic around him was rapidly waning, but he thought he had enough energy left in him for a few more tricks. First, to prank Tonks a bit. She deserved whatever she got from him, and besides it would help establish that she had no right to try to control him and soon would be unable to do so, magically or not.

The next pulse came, and he captured it for a split second, long enough to recognize it for what it was—a tracking charm. He redirected it so that when it returned to Tonks, it would tell her that he was in the other direction. At the same time, he also released his metamorphmagus disguise, worried about holding it while she was so close and using tracking charms.

He peeked around the tree. He could not see Tonks, which was unsuprising since he could sense a magical object surrounding her, presumably an invisibility cloak. However, he could see a dog just on the other side of where he guessed her to be. He snickered under his breath when he heard Tonks incredulous voice ask, “Harry?” If only he really were an animagus, a dog like Si—

Tonks had spun around at his snicker. “Very funny, Harry,” she complained irritatedly from underneath the cloak. She began striding toward the trees, and Harry retreated quickly to keep her (and her magic) from getting too close. Once she had entered the grove of trees and was out of sight, he called on the magic for one more favor. A moment later, her cloak was in his hand.

“What—Harry, you’re not supposed to do magic! It’s the holidays!” Tonks exclaimed in surprise.

Harry sighed and rolled his eyes. He held up his hands in front of him, one of which was holding the cloak and the other of which was empty. “Look, Mum, no wand,” he replied sarcastically.

Tonks was obviously trying to look stern, but all she was really managing was worried and slightly irritated. “What were you thinking, running away like that??” she scolded. She took another couple of steps forward, and Harry took a few more steps back and sank to the ground with his back against a tree.

“Don’t come any closer if you don’t want to be Stunned,” he warned wearily. He frowned. “You couldn’t even let me have a few hours without magic, could you?”

“Harry, you’re not safe out here. Come back to headquarters with me and we can discuss this.”

“I was planning on going back to headquarters, but not now,” he replied shortly. “You ruined my break. Speaking of which, could you back up a few more steps?”

Tonks frowned. “No, Harry, I can’t. Now come on, stop acting like a spoiled brat and come with me. Or would you rather I set Mad Eye Moody on you?”

Harry shrugged. “Set whomever you want on me; I don’t care.” He raised an eyebrow. “What happened to threatening me with Snape?”

A grin spread across her face. “He’s… err… indisposed, at the moment.” Harry wondered what she was so excited about. “Whatever he did to you, Dumbledore was quite hacked off at him.”

Harry gave a weary, lopsided shrug. “Cast Legilimens on me,” he answered in a flat voice. “Nothing he didn’t do many times before, just this time Dumbledore wasn’t so happy.”

Tonks didn’t look very happy either. “That—“ she began, and then cut herself off. “Well, nevermind. He’s not at headquarters at the moment, which is all that matters. Now, stop distracting me. Everyone is quite worried about you, young man.”

If she thought her Molly Weasley impression was going to get better results from him, she was sorely mistaken. “I’m more worried about you,” he replied dangerously. “If you don’t step back fairly soon, you may end up unconscious.”

Tonks’ tone mirrored his own, turning suddenly dark. “Are you threatening me, Harry James Potter?” she demanded, stalking closer to him. He didn’t often see her Auror persona, but he assumed this was it. After all, a bubbly personality wasn’t likely to cow Death Eaters and other dark wizards.

He was a bit busy with other matters, however, like trying to keep the magic from going after her. “Tonks,” he began in a strained voice, closing his eyes tightly as he concentrated on keeping the magic still. He was too tired to draw it around himself as he normally did; it was as though this whole ability required a muscle of sorts, and he had thoroughly exhausted it.

“I’m hardly scared of you, Potter,” she replied. “Now come on, we’re going home.” She stepped forward again, presumably moving toward him to pull him to his feet.

“Stop!” he demanded in a strangled voice. He continued to speak slowly in the same strained voice. “I am exhausted, and can no longer control the magic, Tonks,” he said as though speaking to a small child. “If you don’t back off, it is liable to stun you, and I will be unable to revive you.” He breathed slowly and focused on keeping himself calm. A part of him wanted to just let the magic stun her and then leave her here to fend for herself, but a larger part of him knew that he couldn’t do that. She could be found by Death Eaters.

“Okay, okay, I’m backing off,” Tonks replied, and he could feel that she was doing just that. Finally she had backed up enough that she was out of his range entirely, and he relaxed visibly and opened his eyes to see her standing perhaps fifteen feet away from him, near the edge of the grove. She looked surprised and slightly worried. “What is going on with you, Harry?”

“What happened to ‘Potter’?” he replied sardonically. “I thought you weren’t scared of me?”

“Please, Harry,” she replied, a bit of desperation in her voice. “If I found you I was supposed to get you back to HQ by any means necessary, but I refuse to force you again. But if I—“

“Why?” he interrupted quickly, his brow furrowed.

“Why what?” Tonks replied, confused.

“Why not just force me again? Not that I want you to,” he added quickly.

Tonks sighed heavily. “Because, it’s not right. You don’t deserve to be treated the way we’ve been treating you, and I wouldn’t blame you if you kept trying to run away if we continue.” She quirked one corner of her mouth up in a half smile. “You’ve at least one convert. If I can convince any of the other adults to stop trying to control you like a three-year-old, I will do my best.”

“Oh good,” Harry murmured absently, “because I really need a nap.” His weariness finally overtook him and his eyes slipped closed.

When he awoke, he was pleasantly surprised to find that he was in the place he had fallen asleep. He had been certain that for all her talk, Tonks would not be able to resist when presented with his sleeping form and would transport him immediately back to Grimmauld Place. Unless… He sat up quickly to assure that there were no Stunned forms anywhere near him, and saw Tonks sitting patiently against a tree trunk not far from where she had been standing when he fell asleep.

“You’re still here,” he noted groggily. “We’re not there…”

“I told you that I wasn’t going to force you anymore… Though I would have preferred that you wait to take a nap until we had returned to Grimmauld Place. We’re both going to have a lot of explaining to do.”

Harry squinted up at the brightness above his head. “What time is it…?”

“12:30,” Tonks replied simply. She stood to her feet. “What say we get back to headquarters before either one of us is in more trouble?” she was obviously trying for casual but there was a great deal of hopefulness in her voice as she finished. Part of him, the part that felt she deserved anything regardless of whether she had changed her mind, was glad that she was having to be patient.

Then his eyes widened. “My meeting with Gordon’s at one o’clock, and I promised R—I promised I’d be back for that!” he quickly amended his statement to protect Ron. He didn’t want to get anyone else in trouble; he was already in enough as it was, and for no good reason, it seemed.

“Can I… come closer, now?” Tonks asked hesitantly, taking half a step toward him.

Harry sighed. “I hope so, or else going back to Grimmauld Place will be a disaster.” He nodded that she could move forward more quickly, and wearily gathered her energy to him as she walked. His nap had apparently allowed his ‘muscles’ just enough rest for them to start working again, though it was less than pleasant.

Tonks held out a hand to help him to his feet, and he took it. He then hesitated before following her. A moment later he looked down at his empty hands. “Tonks…? What happened to the invisibility cloak?”

“Summoned it while you were sleeping,” Tonks replied shortly. “’s in my pocket now.” He nodded and returned to the silence that she apparently preferred.

As they neared Grimmauld Place he began to fall behind Tonks, unconsciously slowing his return and using her as a shield for the anger that he knew was coming. Tonks, in turn, stopped and turned toward him. “Look, Harry. I may be treating you more like an adult instead of trying to control you, but I’m not going to try to protect you from the consequences of your actions. You earned them.”

Harry shuddered very slightly. “But… can you let me get up to my room and have my meeting with Gordon first..? I just… I don’t know how I can deal with all the… all the m-magic.” He shuddered again, a little more obviously this time.

Tonks watched him worriedly. “I think I can do that, Harry. I’ll have to tell everyone that you’re home, but I can keep them away from your room for a short while. Just… work this out, alright?” Harry nodded miserably and then lowered his head and moved slowly toward headquarters as one condemned.

Harry gasped slightly as they came into view of Grimmauld Place, gaining himself a strange look from Tonks that he refused to dignify with a response. He kept moving and managed to make it to his room, turning him and Tonks invisible on the way. There, she turned around to discuss the situation with the adults, and he sat stiffly on his bed and gripped the covers with white knuckles and tried to control his breathing, a suddenly difficult task. He had promised to be back to talk with Gordon, but he was strangely relieved that the man was not there at the moment.

“Harry?” He nearly pulled the comforter off his bed as he jumped at the muggle’s voice. “Harry, what’s wrong?”

“Ran away,” he replied tersely after he had recovered. Catching his breath was strangely difficult.

Gordon nodded. “I know, Harry. But what’s wrong right now? You don’t look so good…” The man sat down on the bed next to him and he instinctively flinched away from him.

He shook his head. “Leave me ‘lone,” he managed between quick breaths.

“Harry,” Gordon said concernedly, “you’re not breathing right. What’s wrong?”

“Nothing,” he cried in frustration, but the light shaking of his body belied his words. He shook his head.

The psychiatrist moved closer; his attempts to move away were hampered by his death grip on the sheets. Gordon put his arm around Harry’s shoulders. “Breathe, Harry. Slower now, you can do it..”

Finally, Harry started to get his breathing under control. In fact, he was feeling as though he might just manage to avoid making more of a fool of himself than he already had, when Gordon said kindly, “It’s alright, Harry. No one’s going to hurt you…” Something about the sympathy in the man’s voice when he was already so weary and off kilter broke something inside of him. He began to sob—he wasn’t crying, just giving great, hiccoughing sobs. Gordon held him gently and murmured comforting words to him, but he could hardly hear him.

Terrified was what he had been—what he still was, if he was honest with himself. What on earth were they going to do with him for running away? They were deciding his fate downstairs, and here he was cowering in abject fear. He took several deep breaths in place of sobs and began to pull himself under control again.

“Can you tell me what’s wrong now, Harry?” Gordon asked.

Harry opened his mouth to reply. “I j-just—“ he managed before another sob escaped him. What was wrong with him? “I d-don’t want to be in t-tr-trouble,” he managed, suppressing two more sobs as they began to start.

“Shush, Harry, it’s okay,” Gordon comforted. “What are you afraid is going to happen?”

“I don’t kn-know,” he admitted frustratedly. “I’m just scared!”

Gordon opened his mouth to say something but he was interrupted by a knock on the door, which caused Harry to sit bolt upright. The older man gave him a concerned look and then stood. “I’ll tell whoever it is that we need a few more minutes.”

“No!” Harry exclaimed. He’d already embarrassed himself enough for one day. “I’m fine,” he insisted, his voice as hard as he could make it. “I’m fine,” he repeated slightly more firmly.

Gordon sighed but acquiesced. “Alright, Harry, but can we talk more later?” Harry shrugged uncomfortably, avoiding the man’s eyes. “Okay, I’ll talk to you later, Harry.”

“Later,” he mumbled, and then watched the floor intently as Gordon’s footsteps left and those of another entered.

“Harry, we’ve been discussing your punishment. You can’t just run away like that…” Remus began, and then trailed off. Harry continued to grip the comforter tightly, trying to hide the fact that he was shaking slightly. “Harry, are you alright?” he asked, his tone different.

“Fine,” Harry insisted.

“No you’re not, you’re terrified of something.” Soft footsteps padded closer. “What is it, Harry?”

“Just get it over with!” Harry pleaded.

Remus sighed. “Very well. For your punishment, you will be reading from this book this afternoon and possibly tomorrow in the empty room above the library. Various people including myself will be supervising you.”

Harry looked up in surprise, his grip slackening slightly. “That’s.. that’s all?”

Remus smiled grimly. “I doubt you will find it enjoyable, Harry.” He glanced back at the door. “Molly’s on her way up with lunch, and then you can get started.”

“Al-alright,” Harry managed, his tone bewildered. His punishment was… to read from a book?