In which Harry steps onto the path toward healing.

Our lives improve only when we take chances - and the first and most difficult risk we can take is to be honest with ourselves.

Walter Anderson

At their first true meeting, Gordon asked him to promise not to tell lies. As he put it, “You needn’t tell me anything you don’t want to, but I want to treat you as an adult and that requires that I be able to trust you to tell the truth when you do speak.” Harry agreed, of course. He was simply relieved that the psychologist did not seem to be preparing to drag every secret Harry ever had out of him.

Harry had to sift carefully through his mind to decide what to say.

“I don’t think that *anyone* really knows me,” he admitted at the beginning.

Gordon smiled encouragingly. “Why is that, Harry?”

“We-ell… My aunt and uncle and cousin—they’re the ones I grew up with, after my parents were killed—they never really even tried to know me. They thought I was a freak, you know, because of my magic.” Gordon scowled at this.

“You know that’s not true, though, right? You’re not a freak, whether you’re a wizard or not.”

Harry sighed. “I’ll grant that they had no idea what they were talking about, but I *am* sort of a freak…” He shook his head in frustration. “I don’t want to talk about this!” He quickly continued with what he had been planning to say, “They couldn’t tell the neighbors that I was a freak, you know, so they came up with the most hilarious story. According to them, I don’t go to Hogwarts, I go to St. Brutus’ Centre for the Treatment of Incurably Criminal Boys. How’s that for a mouthful?” he laughed, though even he could hear it was a bit forced.

“Did they even tell that to your friends and their parents?” Gordon asked with a frown.

Harry frowned. “Friends? I never had any friends, at least not before I got to Hogwarts. Dudley scared off anyone who might have been willing to be friends with me, though even that wasn’t many kids.”

“Dudley?”

“My massively overweight cousin. He’s a born bully, and his favorite activity when we were younger was ‘Harry hunting,’” replied Harry. “But you don’t want to hear about the Dursleys,” he ended the topic quickly, ignoring the fact that Gordon was opening his mouth to say something. “So, when I was eleven I went to Hogwarts, but what I didn’t know was that I was—am—a celebrity in the wizarding world. I’d rather not talk about why—it’s stupid, really,” he added quickly.

Gordon nodded encouragingly, allowing Harry to control the conversation. Harry almost sighed in relief that he was not being forced to talk about things—like the Dursleys—that he didn’t want to even think about. “The point is, everyone had preconceptions about me. We have houses at Hogwarts, and we get sorted into them based on personality, more or less. Gryffindor is for the courageous, Ravenclaw for the intelligent, Hufflepuff for the loyal, and Slytherin for the cunning. There’s a huge rivalry between Gryffindor and Slytherin, which is odd, because I almost got sorted into Slytherin, and then I told the Sorting Hat ‘no’ and it sorted me into Gryffindor.”

“Why didn’t you want to be sorted into Slytherin?”

“Well, I had just been told that every wizard that ever went bad was from Slytherin. Which was a lie, but still, a great many dark wizards come from Slytherin… including Voldemort.” He saw Gordon’s blank look, and supplied, “The current Dark Lord, who’s after my head at the moment.” The psychologist looked surprised for a moment, but managed to recover.

“I see… Do you wish you had been sorted into Slytherin, or are you happy in Gryffindor?”

Harry sighed. “That’s a complicated question… I’m glad that I’m in Gryffindor, because I’m much safer there, and I have made some really good friends. Still, though, being sorted into Gryffindor just made some people that their preconceptions of me were confirmed. For example, Snape is the head of Slytherin house, and he hates me because he thinks I’m a clone of my father… they had a rivalry in school, and played a lot of stupid and sometimes dangerous pranks on one another.

“Sometimes, though, I don’t really feel like I fit in. I *am* brave, or foolhardy as Snape likes to call it, but…” Suddenly Harry wondered why he was telling Gordon all of this. It was nice to talk about it, but did he really want anyone to know this much about him?

“But what, Harry?” Gordon asked, leaning forward slightly.

“Nothing,” Harry replied, shaking his head. “Nothing… Gryffindor is my house.” Gordon looked disappointed, but let the topic slip.

“Well, we’ve made a great start today,” the psychologist said encouragingly, wiping all traces of discontent from his face and smiling. Harry smiled hesitantly back at him. Gordon sighed at his hesitancy. “Harry, I don’t want you to feel pressured… I’m here to be a listening ear and to help you, not to make your life more difficult.”

Harry frowned. “I’m not used to talking about myself, or my feelings. I don’t know why Dumbledore made you come all this way…”

Gordon laughed lightly. “I’ll tell you a secret, Harry.” He leaned forward with a mischievous expression on his face . “Maybe we’re just trying to make more business for ourselves, but I and many other psychologists agree that just about *everyone* could do with at least a few meetings with a good psychologist. Everyone has their problems; it’s just that some are more obvious to others.” He leaned back and smiled. “So that means your headmaster could probably use a few visits with me as well, but *you* get my wonderful company instead. And I think I’m glad, because that is one *strange* old man!” He winked, and Harry burst out laughing.

“He is odd, isn’t he?”

“That’s putting it mildly,” Gordon deadpanned. Then the elder man stood to his feet. “Okay, Harry… is it okay if I meet you here at the same time tomorrow?” Harry nodded, slightly more at ease after laughing with the man a bit. “See you tomorrow!”

“See you later, sir!”

Suddenly Gordon spun in place and fixed Harry with a glare. The young wizard quailed at his glare. “What did you call me?” the psychologist asked seriously.

“Uh… sir?” Harry asked.

“That’s what I thought,” Gordon said. “Now, other than asking that you always tell the truth, I only have a single rule: *don’t* call me sir!”

Harry nodded and said, “Yes, si—Sorry, si—Oh, Merlin…”

Gordon burst out laughing. “You looked so scared! Take it easy, kid, I was just messing with you… Though I’d rather you didn’t call me sir. Makes me feel old, you know.” Then he gave Harry an incredulous look. “’Merlin’?”

Harry smiled nervously. “It’s a wizard thing I’ve picked up.” Then he added, “Sorry,” just in case the elder man was bothered.

Gordon frowned slightly. “You’ve nothing to be sorry for, Harry. That’s part of who you are!” Harry nodded. “Well, okay, I’m really leaving now. Perhaps I’ll see you around the house, but if not, I will certainly see you tomorrow!”

“Bye, Gordon,” Harry called, and then shook his head at the psychologist’s antics.

Harry spent a great deal of the time between that meeting at the next considering the unusual man that was Gordon. After much consideration, he decided he liked him, even if he was still a little nervous in his presence. He actually wanted to please the man, and if opening up would do that, then maybe he would—at least a little.

The next day, Harry was waiting in his room for Gordon, who was supposed to arrive in the next few minutes. The door opened, and Gordon came in, shutting the door quickly behind him and then putting his ear to the door without looking at Harry. A moment later he put his back to the door and breathed a sigh of relief, then started when he saw Harry sitting quietly on his bed.

“Well hello Harry! Fancy meeting you here!” Harry just shook his head in disbelief, wondering if it was possible that he was more mature than the man in front of him. He reminded him a bit of the twins… or Sirius. This thought hit Harry hard, as he hadn’t thought of his lost godfather in several days. He completely missed whatever Gordon said next.

“Harry… Harry?” At some point Gordon had made his way toward Harry and was now standing in front of him, looking worried. Harry tried to smile up at the man but it was a mostly failed attempt, he knew. Not only had his guilt at causing his godfather’s death returned, but he also felt he had betrayed him by not having thought of him for so long.

“What happened there?” Gordon asked, concerned. “I lost you completely.”

“Sorry… I was just—You just—You reminded me of my godfather, that’s all.”

“Oh.” Gordon’s face shared a bit of the pain that Harry was sure shown on his own. He indicated a space next to Harry on the bed and asked softly, “May I?” Harry nodded, and the psychologist sat down next to him, leaning forward on his knees and staring in front of him. “Would you like to talk about it?”

Harry just shook his head. “Not really,” he muttered. “Do I—do I have to?”

Gordon looked over at him, serious. “Hey, I said at the beginning that you don’t have to talk about anything that you don’t want to talk about. In fact, we don’t have to talk about anything today, if you’re not up for it.”

Harry shrugged his shoulders, but appreciated that Gordon wasn’t pushing him to speak.

Gordon had gone back to staring in front of him, just as Harry was doing, and they simply sat in silence. Harry had no idea how long they had been sitting there when he sighed.

“I just… I miss him so much sometimes, you know?” Harry said finally, his voice strained with the emotion in it.

“Absolutely,” was the quiet response. “This was his house, wasn’t it?” All Harry could do was nod. “It must be really hard to stay here.”

“He hated it here,” Harry said, anger creeping into his voice. “They made him stay here, and now they’re making me stay here. I *told* them that I didn’t want to come, I would have even stayed at the Dursleys, but they just brought me anyway.”

“They were worried about you, Harry,” replied Gordon softly. “They didn’t want you to be alone, and from what little you’ve told me, your ‘family’ wasn’t going to give you much support.”

Harry raised his voice slightly. “I don’t need help… I don’t *want* help! Why couldn’t they just leave me alone?”

“It’s always hard to accept help, Harry, and sometimes people who care about you have to make decisions about you that you won’t always like—“

“I’m tired of it!” Harry exclaimed. “Nobody even consults me—how can they know what is good for me? They don’t even *know* me!”

“What makes you say that?” Gordon still kept his voice low and calm, in contrast to Harry’s increasing volume.

Harry was angry, but even he could see that he wasn’t going to win this argument, and he didn’t want to lose. Instead, he muttered angrily, “I don’t want to talk about this.”

“Alright,” Gordon agreed amiably, though Harry thought he had caught a flash of disappointment cross the man’s face. “Would you like to talk about anything else, or would you like to adjourn until tomorrow?”

“Tomorrow,” he muttered, without looking up.

“Okay… I’ll see you tomorrow, then, Harry.”

Harry muttered some incoherent, noncommittal response and waited impatiently for the psychologist to leave. When he had, he spent several long minutes lying on his bed before angrily wiping his face and resolving to pretend that nothing had happened. He wasn’t sure, though, that he wanted another meeting with Gordon, and the thought that he probably had several more weeks of this was painful at best.

Gordon’s entrance was not nearly so dramatic the next day. He knocked and then waited patiently until Harry reluctantly told him he could come in, and then took a seat in his usual chair across from Harry.

“Hello, Harry,” he greeted.

“’lo,” muttered Harry in return. He shifted uncomfortably in place without looking up from the floor, waiting for the psychologist to start their session. They sat for long moments before Gordon finally said anything.

“Are you angry at me, Harry?” Gordon asked, in a tone that made it sound as though he were asking about the weather.

“No,” responded Harry angrily.

Gordon frowned. “I’m going to pretend I didn’t hear that, since you promised not to lie to me. You’re angry at me because I sided with the adults, aren’t you?”

Harry scowled but nodded.

“So now you’re going to shut me out just like you shut them out?”

“Maybe.”

“You know, I only sided with the adults in theory. I was pointing out that they seem to care and that it is possible that they could choose to do something that you wouldn’t like.”

“And the difference is…?”

“The difference is that I don’t even know what they did, and for all I know I don’t agree.” Silence. “Will you at least tell me what they have done, that has you so angry? You already told me about them making you come here, but that doesn’t seem like it’s all.”

He most certainly wasn’t telling him anything about his questioning after he had arrived at Grimmauld Place, because that would require admitting the abuse to another person. If he hadn’t already been told by the adults anyway. “What do you know?”

“Only what you’ve told me. I’ve told the adults that I want to hear things from your perspective. If I feel the need to get their perspective, I’ll make sure you’re there,” Gordon insisted.

“How do I know that you’re telling the truth?”

Gordon looked hurt, and paused for a moment, apparently to gather his thoughts. “Well, if you don’t trust me, then I suppose you don’t.” He stopped, and then continued, “But would it really hurt anything to tell me? At worst I already know, and at best I’ll at least know what’s going on.”

Harry sighed. “Fine,” he responded, knowing that he was being petulant but finding it hard to care. “Here’s one that should be near and dear to your heart,” he began sarcastically. “They’re drugging me. They forced a Calming Draught down my throat the first time completely against my will, and haven’t stopped giving it to me except to get it out of my system after Snape’s mistake.”

“Snape’s mistake?” questioned Gordon calmly, refusing to rise to Harry’s bait.

“Yeah, my favorite professor, you know… He picked too high a dose of the Calming Draught for me at first, probably on purpose. You saw how I was, the first time you met me. That was when he figured out what he had done, though Hermione had to do research of her own and then confront him to get him to realize. So then he realized he needed to give me the antidote, but he came back with *two* potions…”

Harry was drifting in and out of unconsciousness when Snape returned. Some part of his brain recognized that with each dose of the Calming Draught he had been getting worse, which must have been the cause of Snape’s worrying. If he had been more conscious he might have smirked at the thought of Snape actually being concerned about the ‘Gryffindor Golden Boy.’

He gladly took the antidote, despite its bitter taste, and felt his strength returning almost immediately. He smiled and started to try to sit up, but Snape pushed him back quickly. “One more, Potter,” he said, and held out the potion this time to allow Harry to feed himself. Harry narrowed his eyes.

“What is it?”

Snape rolled his eyes. “Must you be difficult? Just take it—we need the Calming Draught out of your system.”

“What, so you can feed me more?” he snapped. “Do you really think I’m going to just let you drug me up again?”

“We are not ‘drugging’ you, Potter, we are helping you. Now just take the potion like a good little Gryffindor,” Snape sneered.

Feeling defiant with his new energy, Harry sneered right back. “What if I’m not such a good little Gryffindor?”

Shaking with rage, he shoved the vial he was still holding in Harry’s direction. “Drink it now or I will force feed it to you.”

Harry crossed his eyes, glowering at his hated professor. “What is it?”

“That’s it,” growled the dark professor. Suddenly he loomed over Harry’s still supine form, his wand in his hand. After a moment of staring down his wand at Harry as if considering what hex he might get away with casting on the Boy-Who-Lived, he seemed to reconsider and stowed his wand away. Then he reached down and pinched Harry’s nose as he had before, using his leverage and the fact that Harry had still not recovered most of his strength to keep Harry down.

In a strangely familiar scene, Harry fought to remove the man’s hand from his nose but failed miserably, and soon had to open his mouth in order to get some air. The bitter and still hot liquid was being poured down his throat now, and his head was tilted back so that there was no good way for him to avoid swallowing it. Finally, he did just that.

“What was it?” he gasped out finally.

A sinister smirk snuck onto Snape’s face. “Tell me, Mr. Potter, what do you get when you add powdered root of asphodel to an infusion of wormwood?”

Harry felt his eyes nearly popping out of his head as he answered in a thready whisper, “Draught of Living Death?”

“One point to Harry Potter,” sneered Snape, turning to leave even as the potion dragged Harry far below the level of consciousness.

“And then after that he left me asleep for three days! He claimed that he needed to ‘make sure the Calming Draught was out of my system,’ but I think he just wanted to get me out of his way for as long as possible.”

To Harry’s surprise, he saw that Gordon appeared to be getting angry on his behalf. He had assumed that Gordon would at least try to excuse the adult’s behavior. “You hadn’t hurt yourself or anyone else before they began giving it to you?” he confirmed.

Harry shook his head. “I didn’t hurt myself, and I accidentally reflected a stunner back at Madam Pomfrey after she tried to stun me. Which she did because I had refused to drink a sleeping potion.”

Gordon’s voice was tight with controlled anger. “I think this is an example of adults convincing themselves that they are doing the right thing but *greatly* overreacting. I’m sorry, Harry, but I certainly understand why you are feeling betrayed.” He visibly calmed himself. “Which of the adults is involved in this?”

Harry frowned. “Snape and Dumbledore, for sure… Presumably Madam Pomfrey—she’s the school nurse. Other than that… well, Remus definitely knew and didn’t do anything about it.” He scowled at this.

Gordon nodded. “Okay… We will definitely be having talks with them.”

“We?”

Gordon smiled patiently. “I told you I wouldn’t talk to them about anything relating to you without you present. Although I expect you to be doing quite a bit of talking—you have said you want to be treated like an adult, and sometimes that means having these conversations.”

“Well… It’s not so bad now; they’ve got me on a very mild dose,” he stalled, not certain that he was willing to have any one of those conversations just yet.

“I can recognize a stalling tactic when I hear one, you know…” Gordon grinned.

Harry sighed. “I don’t have anything to say to them, except that they are stupid and I don’t trust them.”

“Well, those are valid feelings that you can certainly express to them, and perhaps they can shed some light on what they were thinking.” Gordon hurried to continue when he saw Harry getting upset at his apparently renewed defense of the adults. “I don’t think anything could excuse their treatment of you, Harry. However, perhaps they can say something that will make it possible for you to eventually forgive them.” Harry scowled, but nodded in recognition of the idea.

“Are there any adults that you *do* trust, Harry?” Gordon leaned forward slightly, waiting for Harry’s answer.

“Erm… Mr. Weasley, I suppose… I don’t really see him very much, but he’s nice. It’s weird, though. He says that he thinks of me as another son, but he’s *Ron’s* dad.” Then, he added for clarification, “Ron’s my best friend.”

Gordon nodded. “I could see how that would be a bit strange. But still, that’s nice that he treats you like another son!”

Harry nodded in earnest, his mood lifting slightly. “Yeah, he was really patient with me the day that I accidentally locked the door to my room.” Gordon gave him a strange look. “Oh, I did it magically… without a wand, which is a bit odd, even for a wizard. Mr. Weasley was the one who woke me up from my nap, and we talked about… well, about stuff.”

Gordon smiled. “I’m glad you’ve talked to an adult about some things. Even if you’ve had some really bad experiences, I promise we’re not all bad.” He winked. Then he began to stand. “Was there anything else you wanted to talk about today? Better yet, might you be willing to talk to me tomorrow, if I leave now, or is there something we still need to work out?”

Harry sighed. “I’ll talk to you, tomorrow.” He wasn’t quite sure what he thought about the man, but he was sure that his opinion was better now than it had been at the beginning of their talk.

“Good,” said Gordon, giving one of his more ‘serious’ smiles. “I’m glad you haven’t given up all hope in me.”

Harry shook his head. “See you tomorrow, Gordon.”

“Okay, see you tomorrow!”

Harry had a sudden yearning to speak with Mr. Weasley again, the way that they had spoken that night. Even Sirius had never been able to give him that much of a feeling of having a father, since he was too busy to engage in many heart-to-heart talks. Then again, so was Mr. Weasley. Harry realized that it was quite possible that he wouldn’t get another talk with Mr. Weasley for quite some time, especially since he didn’t want to take away from the man’s time with his family, and therefore wouldn’t seek him out. He moped around the house a bit before stuffing these feelings to the back of his mind and ignoring them to the best of his ability. He’d never struggled with this before and he wouldn’t struggle with it now.

Harry left the door open for Gordon the next day so that he wouldn’t have to knock. He was also trying to show the man that he was not quite so angry anymore. Gordon positively beamed when he saw the door open and hurried into the room and closed it behind him before toning down his reaction a bit.

“Hello, Harry!” he greeted cheerily.

Harry had to suppress a laugh at Gordon, not for the first time. “Hi, Gordon.”

“How are you?”

Harry shrugged. “Same as always, pretty much. I was just working on a potion with Hermione. She’s my other best friend from Hogwarts.”

“A potion? Is that something you do for fun, or is that a school subject?”

“We-ell… it is most certainly only a school subject when Snape is involved, because Snape and fun cannot occur within the same *paragraph* much less the same sentence. But since I’ve now managed to take the Snape out of Potions, it has been much better.”

“What do you mean, take the Snape out of Potions? Is he not teaching Potions anymore?”

Harry grinned. “Well, he’s still teaching Potions… I’m just not taking it with him. He came to talk to me a few days ago about my O.W.L. results. That was the original reason he came to see me the day he brewed the antidote, before he realized that I was overdosed on Calming Draught and hadn’t had a coherent moment in which to look at my grades.” He saw Gordon’s confused expression. “What?”

“’Owl results’?” Gordon asked, confused.

Harry chuckled. “Sometimes I forget you’re not a wizard.” Harry racked his brain for the muggle equivalent of O.W.L.s, then remembered that it was almost too easy. “I think they’re like O levels?”

“Oh!” Gordon’s face registered understanding. “How did you do?”

“Not so badly,” replied Harry modestly. “I got the highest grade in Defense Against the Dark Arts in almost 150 years.”

Gordon smiled at Harry’s ‘modesty’. “That’s incredible, Harry! Congratulations!”

Harry nodded, and then his happiness subsided a bit. “Snape wanted to talk to me about my Potions grade, though.”

“Why? Did you fail?” Gordon’s expression made it clear that he thought this impossible.

Harry shook his head. “No, actually, I did much better than I thought I would… I got an E, after he kept giving me Ps and Ds!” He noticed the expression on Gordon’s face and this time didn’t need to ask about the source of the confusion. “Oh… E stands for Exceeds Expectations, which is the second highest grade you can get. O, for Outstanding, is the highest, and then E, and then A for Acceptable, which is the last passing grade. Then there’s P for Poor and D for Dreadful. Fred and George claim that there is also a T for Troll, but considering they are worst practical jokers Hogwarts has seen in many years, I think I would be safe in doubting them.” He finished his long explanation, then added, “Oh, yeah, Fred and George are twins, two of Ron’s older brothers. He’s the sixth of seven children; Ginny is the youngest and the only girl.”

Gordon took all this information in slowly, then finally looked confused once again. “But I don’t understand… What was Snape’s problem with an E? Isn’t that good?”

Harry nodded. “I’m happy, pretty much. But Snape and Professor McGonagall didn’t understand…”

“I presume you have had time to look at your O.W.L. results by now?” Snape sneered as he swept into the room, as usual without knocking first.

“Yeah, no thanks to you,” muttered Harry, then nodded for Snape’s sake, and spoke louder. “Come to gloat?”

“I wish,” Snape replied. “However, it seems that the Deputy Headmistress has seen fit to take advantage of her position to influence my admissions procedures this year. She sent me to discuss the conditions on your admittance to the N.E.W.T. level Potions course.”

“Well, I can solve that problem,” Harry responded finally. “I’m not taking it.”

Snape narrowed his eyes. “I was under the impression you wanted to be an Auror… Surely even you aren’t egotistical enough to think that they will accept you to Auror training without your having taken Potions?”

“You were mistaken,” said Harry flatly. “I don’t care about being an Auror.”

“Then why on earth is Minerva on a crusade to assure that you become an Auror? She claims that you told her last year that you wanted to become an Auror after you graduate, and somehow I don’t think that *she’s* the one lying. What games are you playing, Potter?”

“Aren’t I allowed to reconsider my decision? Some facts came to my attention last year that indicated that I might not have a chance to become an Auror anyway. And besides, the Ministry hates me; why would they hire me?”

“I see…” Snape still seemed suspicious. “But why would you, of all people, have any problems becoming an Auror? Surely the Ministry cannot reject the ‘hero of the wizarding world,’” he insisted with a sneer.

Harry shrugged, and pointed out matter of factly,“It would be rather hard to be an Auror if I’m dead. With Voldemort after my head, do you really think it likely I’ll live to see the end of my seventh year?”

Snape seemed shocked by the morbid sentiment, but recovered fairly quickly. “If you wouldn’t rush off to confront him constantly like a fool Gryffindor, then your life expectancy would be much higher.”

“Do you think it’s fun, being the ‘Boy-Who-Lived’??” Harry raised his voice as he became as angry as he was capable of being under the mild Calming Draught. Snape looked a bit shocked that Harry had lost his temper at all. “Nobody knows who I really am, certainly not you! I have almost no real friends, while I have plenty of idiots that will drool over me right before they turn on me. And then there’s Voldemort; I think I knew from the beginning that I would have to be the one to defeat him. Can you imagine being eleven, having only just learned that magic even *exists* and then being informed that by some fluke you banished Voldemort in the past and knowing you will be responsible for making sure he never returns or that he is killed if he does?” Harry glared at him, and lowered his voice without making the tone any less dangerous. “And now he will pick off the people I love one by one, until I face him and he kills me, or I by some fluke manage to kill him once and for all. Already Cedric and Sirius have lost their lives *because of me*, and you think I care about whether what I’ll do *when I grow up*?” Harry’s anger finally subsided, leaving him feeling empty and strangely neutral toward Snape.

Snape stared at Harry for several long moments, then spoke. “Very well… I will inform Minerva of your feelings.” Harry presumed that this did not mean the reasoning, but merely the fact that he no longer wished to take N.E.W.T. Potions. Somehow Harry knew that Snape would not admit this conversation to anyone.

Harry gave Gordon a shorter version of what had happened, without his reasoning. The psychologist seemed to sense that he had left several important details out, but thankfully he allowed it to pass as he had Harry’s other omissions. “Nymphadora told me about Aurors. What changed your mind about wanting to be one?”

Harry was still stuck at the beginning of the first sentence. “Nymphadora?” he questioned incredulously. “Does Tonks know you call her that??”

A small smile played across Gordon’s face. “She really doesn’t like her first name, does she?” Harry shook his head. “She won’t hex a poor muggle, though… rather like hitting a girl, I think.” Harry got the strange sense that Gordon was not telling him the whole truth, but quickly dismissed it because he could see no reason for jumping to such a conclusion.

However, an uncertain expression remained on his face. “I’m not sure you’ll be immune from pranks, though…”

Gordon shrugged and gave a small laugh. “Bring it on, I say!” Harry wondered if the muggle *really* knew what he was getting into. “But really, why did you change your mind? Or was it because you didn’t have the grades?”

Harry shrugged uncomfortably. He couldn’t lie but he didn’t want to talk about Voldemort either. So far, Gordon had been someone that he could talk who did not think of him as a celebrity, pity him, or constantly call him a freak. This had seemed like an impossibility up until now, and he didn’t want to lose it.

Gordon sensed that Harry didn’t want to talk about it, so he changed the subject. “Didn’t you say it was Professor McGonagall who was trying to pressure Snape into letting you into Potions? What did she think about this, do you know?”

“Yeah, she’s my head of house. And yes, I know—she came to Gr—here the next day. She wasn’t very happy…”

“Mr. Potter, what is this Severus tells me about you no longer wanting to be an Auror?” McGonagall asked as she burst into the library. Harry stood to his feet and motioned her out of the room immediately, refusing to make eye contact with any of his friends. Oh, he was going to get it for not talking to them about this.

Harry spoke slowly but firmly to his head of house. “I really appreciate you trying to help, Professor, but I can take care of myself. I have reconsidered and I don’t care to be an Auror anymore.”

McGonagall looked disappointed. “Why not?”

Harry sighed. “Let’s face it, the Ministry hates me. Besides…” he trailed off, not sure how much his professor knew.

“Besides what?” she prompted.

“Besides there are other things I’d rather do than be an Auror.”

“Like what?”

He paused, caught out in his lie, then finally sighed. “Let’s face it, Professor, I have more important things to do than worry about my future career.”

This time she was the one to sigh. “Harry, you don’t have to take the world on your shoulders… What would make you happy? I don’t want you giving up opportunities because of responsibilities that you think you have.”

Harry slouched a bit. “I wish it could be about what would make me happy,” he muttered, then said louder, “Just drop it, please, Professor. I don’t care about being an Auror anymore, and I have no desire to fight with Snape. I can learn potions on my own just fine.”

McGonagall frowned. “Very well, Mr. Potter, I will respect your wishes. Please let me know if you change your mind before the end of the summer, as until September 1st it is not too late to enroll you in the course.”

Harry nodded even though he had no interest in taking the course. McGonagall walked away quickly and Harry headed back in to face the inquisition.

“And were your friends upset that you hadn’t told them?” Gordon asked, sounding slightly concerned.

Harry shrugged. “Hermione was upset that I wasn’t taking Potions even when given the opportunity, and they all were upset that I hadn’t told them that I didn’t want to be an Auror anymore. I pointed out that I’m going to spend enough time—well, that I have other things to do, and they understood. I also told Hermione that I want to work on N.E.W.T. level Potions with her, even though I’m not taking the class. I think I might be able to take the test anyway, since not being around Snape can only help my progress.”

“Why do you say that?”

“Snape hates me. He and my dad had some kind of stupid rivalry back when they were in school, and all he can see when he looks at me is my dad.” Harry scowled. “The worst part is that I was really upset when I found out about the kind of things my dad had done to him, not that he would ever believe me if I told him.”

“What did your dad do?”

Harry frowned. “He was *bored*, of all the excuses, and so he ambushed Snape and then made fun of him… He turned him upside down for half the school to see his underwear.” Harry’s voice had been getting more upset, but now it was barely audible. “All I could think of was that it was like how Dudley used to bully me…” He shook his head, wondering how he had let himself be pulled so far into such emotional territory.

“Alright there, Harry?” Gordon asked, concerned. Harry nodded.

“It doesn’t matter anyway. Snape hates me and will always hate me, and now I at least won’t have to see him quite so much, now that I’m out of Potions. That’s a good enough reason for me to get out of Potions in and of itself, I think!”

Gordon nodded in understanding. “I can sympathize with you there!” He sighed. “Have you actually tried to talk to Snape about this?”

Harry shook his head in frustration. “The man takes points from me for *breathing*… he doesn’t listen to a word I say!” Harry felt a twinge of guilt at this overstatement, since Snape *had* listened to him in the dungeon, at least a little. But that little guilt vanished when he remembered how Snape had treated him with regards to the Calming Draught.

“Well, he can’t take points during the summer, can he?”

“No, thank goodness,” sighed Harry, but he could see where Gordon was going with all of this. “I’m not stupid, you know… I can see what you’re thinking. If he *voluntarily* comes to talk to me, then I will talk with him. Otherwise…” Harry was proud of this solution, which he was sure made it certain that he would not have to have such a talk with Snape.

“Voluntarily? Does that mean no one can ask him, or just that no one can coerce him?”

Harry thought about this. “Coerce.” He nodded to himself; Snape would never take anyone up on the “offer” to talk to Harry.

Gordon smiled and nodded. “Fair enough. What about Dumbledore? Have you talked to him about how he’s been treating you?”

Harry heard his voice turn cold. “I think I made that abundantly clear at the end of the school year. He pretended to listen but obviously it went in one ear and out the other, because he hasn’t changed a thing.”

Gordon leaned forward. “What happened at the end of the school year?”

“I destroyed his office,” Harry responded dryly. He could see that Gordon was about to ask why, and he shook his head. “No. I’m not talking about it. New subject.” Despite his quick response, Harry could feel tears burning at the backs of his eyes, and he blinked rapidly to clear them.

Gordon sighed and leaned back. “Which of the adults have we not talked about?”

“Remus and Tonks,” Harry responded neutrally. Inwardly he was wondering when this session might end, but he forced himself not to let his discomfort show on his face. The sooner he could convince Gordon that he was alright, the sooner these sessions would be over completely.

“You’re angry at both of them?” Harry nodded. “Why Remus?” Harry gathered himself to start another long explanation, but then Gordon interrupted him. “No, scratch that. We’ve been at this forever, haven’t we?” Harry nodded with more energy this time. “It’s very patient of you to keep going when you’re feeling tired, but please, tell me next time, alright? You’ve done a really good job today. I know it’s hard to face some of these emotions.”

Harry shrugged, not seeing the big deal. “Don’t just shrug it off, Harry! It takes a great deal of strength to face the kinds of memories you’ve been facing, and for you to do it for me when you’ve only known me a week—well, I’m honored and very proud of you.” Harry just received the comment awkwardly, not daring negate it with another shrug but not being willing to accept it either. Finally Gordon continued. “Okay, well, I’ll see you tomorrow, alright?”

Harry nodded again. “See you tomorrow,” he finally said aloud, and Gordon gave him a smile as he exited his room.

Harry spent several long minutes struggling to control his emotions again, before finally joining his friends in the library. He desperately hoped that the next day’s talk would be less emotional, but didn’t hold out much hope considering he would presumably have to talk about Remus.

The next day, Harry heard Gordon coming before he saw him.

“I have a session, Nymphadora!” Harry heard Gordon exclaim from somewhere nearby.

“I’ll have my revenge, old man!” was Tonks’ response.

Harry heard footsteps pounding down the hallway, and had to jump back to avoid getting hit by the door that had just slammed open. Almost immediately it was slammed shut again, and Gordon leaned back against the door, out of breath.

“You’re not getting away that easily!” cried Tonks while banging on the door.

“Nymphadora Tonks!” Harry was surprised at how parental Gordon’s voice sounded just then. “Harry is in here, it’s time for our session. You can have your revenge later!”

The banging immediately ceased. “Sorry,” was the dismayed reply. “I’ll just leave you alone, then.”

The apology seemed to be layered, as Harry thought she was probably apologizing to him as well. He felt that if he were willing to speak with any of the adults to try to work out his problems, it would probably be Tonks. She had come the closest to making an honest mistake, and after all, she didn’t know him very well. He mentally shook his head and returned to bed, waiting for Gordon to catch his breath and come join him in their usual positions.

Soon Gordon did come and sit in the chair across from Harry’s bed, and smiled sheepishly. “Nymphadora finally decided that it was time for her revenge. I barely escaped. Thanks for sheltering me.”

Harry laughed lightly, a bit of his discomfort at the idea of another long session ebbing away. The muggle psychologist really was funny sometimes. He shook his head in disbelief. “Perhaps if you stopped calling her Nymphadora?”

“Ah…” Gordon shook his head. “I think it’s a bit late for that, unfortunately. Now I’ll just have to bear my punishment, or run forever.” He winked. “Running is sounding better and better.”

Harry shook his head and didn’t say anything more. “So, how are you doing today, Harry?”

He shrugged uncomfortably. “Fine.”

Gordon frowned. “The truth?”

Harry growled in frustration. “I don’t want to talk about any of this stupid stuff, okay?”

“What would you like to talk about?”

“Nothing! I’m tired of talking.”

“Harry…” Gordon sighed. “I know there’s something you’re not telling me, something important.” He leaned forward, keeping eye contact with Harry. “Do you think you could tell me?”

Harry backed up onto the bed a bit, shaking his head. “No… No, I’m not talking about that.”

“Please, Harry… by refusing to talk about it, you’re giving it power over you. I honestly believe that once you talk about it, you will feel much better.”

He merely shook his head again. “I am *not* talking about it!”

Gordon looked concerned. “Why not? Can you at least tell me why you don’t want to talk about it?”

“I don’t want to think about it,” Harry answered instinctively. Then he thought about it. “And… I don’t want to change your opinion of me.”

Gordon smiled at that. “Harry, the only thing that might change my opinion of you is if you told me you were a dark wizard. In which case, I think I just wouldn’t believe you.”

Harry shook his head in frustration. “You can’t say that! You can’t tell me for sure that you won’t be like everyone else!”

“And how would that be?”

“Just… they either think I’m a clone of my parents, or worship me like a hero, or *pity* me. I hate it!”

Gordon sighed. “Harry, I’m sorry you’ve gotten these reactions from others, but please, think about it… have I shown any sign of hero worship, or pity? And I never even knew your parents, so you needn’t worry about that.”

“But I haven’t told you anything yet, that’s the point!”

“But can my opinion of you really mean anything, if I don’t know the real you?”

“Yes!” Harry exclaimed, and then bit his lip as he realized how that sounded. “I mean… well… I’d rather you know less about me and care, then know everything and pity me.”

Gordon leaned forward. “But what if I—or someone else—were to know the real you, and still care? Would it be worth the risk?”

Harry smiled bitterly. “If that were possible, then yes… but let’s be realistic…”

“Okay, then, let’s be realistic. How long have you known me?”

“Erm… just over a week?”

Gordon nodded. “That sounds about right. So I’m a muggle you’ve known for just over a week, and in about two weeks you’ll never have to see me again, if you don’t want to. Do you have anything to lose?”

“We-ell…” Harry stalled for time, trying to come up with an excuse. He felt a flash of anger at the psychologist, who had backed him into a corner. “It’s not that easy, darn it! How dare you—“

“Calm down, Harry,” said Gordon softly, effectively interrupting his tirade. “I know it’s not easy. It will probably be one of the hardest things you could ever do… But if you want it—really want it—then I can help you. Otherwise…” He shrugged. “I’m not sure what else I can do to help you.”

Harry leaned back, shocked and somewhat hurt. He was surprised to feel tears prickling at the back of his eyes. In a strangely tight voice, he asked, “So… that’s it? You come all this way just to throw out an ultimatum and walk away?”

“No, Harry!” responded Gordon earnestly. “*We* came all this way, and I’m not going anywhere. But I suppose it was an ultimatum, in a sense—if you ever want to heal emotionally, you will have to be real with *someone*. It needn’t be here, it needn’t be now, and there’s no reason it has to be me. You are surrounded by people who care and want you to trust them. I just want you to know that I’m here.” He stood. “Just think about it. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

For the first time, Gordon left without giving him a chance to protest. He stared at the door, waiting for the psychologist to reenter, but it remained closed. Left with nothing else to do, he thought about what the man had said.

Harry thought about it. He thought about it while working on potions, and while he was supposedly reading in the library. He thought about it while listening to his friends talk, and while playing chess with Ron (who marveled that he hadn’t thought that Harry could get any worse).

Twenty-four hours passed quickly and slowly. But when his meeting time came, Harry’s Gryffindor courage abandoned him, and he hid like the baby he knew he was.

Harry then proceeded to avoid Gordon for the next twenty-four hours, avoiding his room until very late and waking early, and having Dobby bring him food so that he could avoid the kitchen.

Everyone who saw him knew that something was wrong, and gave him worried glances. Even Ron, dense as usual, had realized that something was wrong. After snapping at several people who only asked him how he was, Harry began avoiding everyone. This was not very successful—Hermione found him when he hid in the potions lab, and Dobby led Remus right to him in the attic before Harry ordered the house elf not to reveal his location except in an emergency.

Falling asleep in a closet caused him to miss his next dose of the Calming Draught. Waking to feel surprisingly refreshed, Harry crept out of the closet unaware that anything was amiss. He knew something was wrong, though, when he knew that Snape was headed his way. The man was mad, Harry could tell, and he found himself backing into the closet. Snape had come around the corner before he got a chance to close the door.

“Potter! What do you think you are doing?! Do you find it fun to play ‘hide-and-seek’ with the Order?” If Harry hadn’t already known that Snape was mad, it would be clear now that he was furious.

“Stay away!” Harry exclaimed as Snape stalked closer. Snape didn’t even hesitate.

“No, Potter, the game is over. *Some people* may prefer to let you do whatever you want, but I am not one of them. You will not waste the Order’s time any longer.”

“This is not a game,” Harry protested in a strained voice. The bubble was back, and Snape was coming dangerously close to popping it.

Suddenly, Snape came to a halt, a strangely hesitant expression on his face. “What are you doing, Potter?” he asked in confusion. Then, to save face, “Is ‘no magic during holidays’ so hard to remember?”

Harry could feel the same crackling in the air that had caused Snape to stop, and gathered that he must be the source. “I’m not trying—“ he said through gritted teeth.

“Well, that much is obvious, Potter,” Snape sneered in response, and took another step forward.

Everything happened in an instant. Harry snapped his eyes shut as he felt the bubble pop. He felt the crackling energy gather itself and then throw itself outward—at Snape.

Harry had opened his eyes and saw Snape, lying in the floor, unconscious. Harry stared at his prone form for a long moment in horror. He had attacked a professor, using magic illegally during the holidays no less. This time he would be expelled for certain! He felt a sinking sensation in his stomach.

“Snape?” he heard Remus’ voice call. Harry remained in place, still staring at the dark man unconscious in front of him. “Merlin, what happened?!” Remus asked himself, not yet aware of Harry’s presence. He rushed to Snape’s supine form, and then looked up in surprise as he heard the small noise of panic that Harry made.

“Harry??”

“Stay away…” he pleaded, holding his hands out in front of him and shaking. “I tried to stop him… why couldn’t he understand?”

“Harry…” said Remus cautiously, “you haven’t had your calming draught.”

He wanted to be angry at being reminded of this right now, but all he could feel was fear and worry. “You have to stay away!” he repeated.

“It’s okay, Harry,” soothed Remus, and took another step forward.

“Stop!” The air began to crackle again. “Don’t! It’s what happened to Snape!”

Remus stared into his eyes for a moment, and then nodded slowly. “Okay, Harry… I’ll take Snape, and call for Dumbledore.” Harry slid down the wall at his back wearily and prayed that he hadn’t killed Snape. He didn’t want another person dead because of him!

He sat in silence for long moments, still staring though Lupin had long since removed the body of his professor. Finally, he had heard footsteps approaching, but they weren’t those of Dumbledore. He didn’t know how he knew that, but he did.

The owner of the footsteps turned out to be Gordon, and Harry felt himself turn slightly pink at the sight of the man he had been avoiding. The psychologist moved slowly but confidently toward Harry.

“Keep your distance,” Harry warned softly. “I don’t want to hurt you…”

“You won’t,” said Gordon. “I don’t know why, but Albus said I was the only one he could be sure you wouldn’t hurt, even accidentally.”

Harry shuddered. “Is Snape…?”

He shook his head. “Remus said to tell you that he was only stunned.”

Harry breathed a sigh of relief. “I thought… I thought I might’ve…”

“…killed him?” Gordon finished quietly. Harry nodded. “No, Harry… even with magic, I think you have to want to kill someone.”

“Well, I thought I had to wave a wand and yell ‘Stupefy!” to stun someone, too…” Harry pointed out in a mildly bitter tone.

Gordon nodded, and pulled a vial from his pocket. “Will you take it? I think maybe it’s time for you to talk with the headmaster.”

Harry sighed, but he was still too shocked with all that had happened to argue. “I’ll take it,” he responded, holding out his hand. The psychologist placed the glass container into his hand, and Harry downed the bitter liquid in one go. For once, he appreciated the slightly fuzzy feeling that came over him. “Okay, I suppose it’s time to face the firing squad,” he said despondently, heaving himself to his feet.

Gordon chuckled and shook his head. “Harry, they aren’t out to get you.”

Harry laughed shortly. “No? Snape will be, if no one else. I don’t think even Dumbledore can save me this time…” He shuddered once again at the thought of being expelled, wondering what he would do instead. Gordon reached out to place a comforting hand on Harry’s shoulder, and he skittered away immediately. When he realized what he had done, he said, “Sorry… I’m not really used to people touching me…”

Gordon frowned at this, but accepted the apology. They both headed up the stairs, lost in their individual thoughts. Harry was snapped out of his by the sound of the arguing voices at the top of the stairs, and his abrupt stop had forced Gordon to pay attention as well.

“Headmaster, he must be expelled! He attacked me, a professor, using magic during the holidays, no less! This kind of behavior would not be tolerated by anyone else, and should not be tolerated by him either!”

Dumbledore’s voice sounded tired. “Severus, I’m certain it was unintentional, and he didn’t do any lasting damage. Besides which, he needs to be at Hogwarts now more than ever, for his protection and so that he can receive training.”

“So he *accidentally* attacks me during the holidays, and now you are suggesting that he return to a school where he could hurt hundreds of children?” Snape’s voice was lower but no less angry. “This is almost as idiotic a decision as allowing a werewolf to attend Hogwarts!”

“Severus Snape!” Dumbledore snapped. “I will not allow you to question my decisions. After all, many have said that my most ‘idiotic’ decision was to allow a Death Eater to work at Hogwarts, with children.”

Harry felt a hand on his back, prodding him to continue up the stairs. Instead he turned to Gordon and shook his head. Gordon nodded and pointed up the stairs. “Come on, Harry. It’s time.”

Harry just shook his head more forcefully, his eyes wide. The fear and anger he was feeling were nearly overwhelming. He tried to go back down the stairs, but Gordon blocked his path. “Don’t you think you’ve spent enough time hiding, Harry?” he asked with a stare that was both stern and compassionate. “I’ll be right there with you.”

Harry sighed finally and continued his trek up the stairs, even more slowly than before. As he had almost reached the open door, he heard Snape ask impatiently, “What on earth is taking so long? Where is he?”

Taking a deep breath and steeling himself, Harry stepped into the doorway and said quietly, “I’m here.”