PART III

Confusion greeted Harry when he woke. Confusion and darkness. His skull felt full of rocks and thoughts evaded him. His senses were dulled and he realised weakly that he hadn't opened his eyes. His initial attempt to open them was marred by the sleep gunk that glued them shut. After a couple of attempts, his succeeded. He didn't have time to process what he saw because almost instantly, as though the opening of his eyes had triggered his other senses into action, a plethora of physical symptoms flooded his awareness, none of which made sense to him.

The first thing he noticed was the soft bed underneath him and the pillow that cushioned his head. These comforts were short-lived once he noted the taste of copper in his mouth – the tangy, bitter taste of blood that seemed to have settled on his tongue. He tried to consider why his mouth would taste like blood but it was at that moment that a headache blistered forward, striking him senseless. He took a moment to close his eyes, squeezing them shut against the onslaught of pain against his skull. When his headache had dulled to a steady thump, he finally felt the searing pain in his hands. Reopening his eyes, Harry attempted to bring his hands up to his eyes, but found that they were too heavy.

"They're bandaged," a voice said somewhere beside Harry. "You tried to put the box back together. You cut your hands."

Harry didn't understand.

"We put some salve from St Mungo's on them," the voice continued, and Harry tried to locate its source but he realised the room was dark and his vision was blurred. "They should heal in a couple of days. "

Harry opened his mouth and tried to talk, still very confused, the dull ache in his head preventing him from processing anything. He found, however, his throat too sore, felt as though it had been scratched from within. No words came out.

"Here," suddenly there was a hand beneath his head, lifting it up slightly and the cool feel of a glass bottle at his lips. Harry looked up at the person who was doing all this. In his dazed state, he wondered at the familiarity of the man helping him. "This will let you sleep until morning." The voice was kind, Harry realised, and although he didn't know what was going on, he knew trust in that moment and he sipped from the bottle the man held to his lips, feeling the cool liquid a godsend to his scratchy throat. "In the morning we'll have some breakfast. You're going to need your strength, Harry. Lupin's done some research. The next few days aren't going to be easy."

Harry felt his head lowered to the pillow again as the man took away the bottle. He tried to focus on the face of the man in front of him, but he could feel sleep coming fast. The last thing he felt was a hand stroking his hair.

Xxx

Sirius was not lying when he said the coming days would be tough. Harry had woken next more coherent and it had only taken him seconds to remember what had happened. While he had found a calmness in that first moment of realisation, Lupin explained to him what he had found in his research on Emotoboxes. When Sirius had broken the box, Harry's emotions were freed from their prison. The Emotobox was an unnatural habitat for emotions and it could never be trusted to process emotions the way a human being could. Harry's emotions didn't belong there and upon their release, they sought to be in their natural state, with their "natural host", as Lupin put it. The initial return of his feelings had nearly driven him off the edge. Harry's excessive use of the box meant that there were thousands of unprocessed emotions bottled up in that box and once freed they all forced themselves back into Harry. The problem was, the mind could not possibly deal with the amount of emotions, nor the strength of those emotions, all at the same time. Lupin had injected Harry with a sleeping potion to keep the emotions at bay, but not before Harry had torn the skin on his hands first trying to put the pieces of the glass box back together again.

Although Lupin's plan had worked and Harry's latent emotions were held at bay for a time successfully saving his sanity, it was inevitable that Harry would begin to feel everything, every single sadness, every single anger, every single joy that he had run away from all these weeks. And although Lupin was certain they would not all rush back at once, he was equally as certain that whenever they did make an appearance, these emotions would be deep, they would be painful and they would be scarring.

Harry was scared.

Xxx

After a couple of days awake and not feeling anything, Harry became convinced that Lupin had just been trying to scare him. Harry didn't feel anything after the initial fear of Lupin's assertion that he was going to be an emotional wreck for the next few days. In fact, he started to believe that the box had done more than just taken away his emotions – it had taken away his ability to feel.

But it happened at lunch one afternoon after Sirius had finished explaining that Dumbledore had found a temporary headquarters for the Order of the Phoenix while Harry was recuperating at Grimmauld Place. It started off with a snort, an indignant snort that said more to Sirius and Lupin than any words that Harry had spoken to them over the past few days. Harry didn't realise it had come from him at first, and to his own ears he recognised the sound as indignation and resentment. Then it happened again and Sirius and Lupin had stopped eating and locked eyes on him. Harry put down his fork, suddenly alarmed. But the alarm wasn't the primary feeling, anger was. He felt it as a bubble in his chest, a small bubble that seemed to expand and expand until it felt as if his chest were expanding.

The walls of Grimmauld Place started shaking, the pots and pans in the kitchen cabinet rattled noisily and somewhere down the hall Sirius' mother was swearing loudly.

"Harry," Sirius stood from his seat, eyes wide. "It's okay. It's all going to be okay."

But all Harry did was sit, feeling the bubble in his chest continue to expand.

Until it popped.

Xxx

After that first incident, Sirius set up a boxing bag down in the basement and had given Harry boxing gloves to use. He'd said his hands has healed up nicely, and there would be no harm in taking up boxing. Particularly when anger episodes would be the primary latent emotion.

The trouble was, as everyone soon found out, Harry's episodes which were directly related to the latent emotions he had stored in the Emotobox were never really alone when they appeared. Harry had gone so long without feeling, the sudden rise of such strong emotion made him panic and after the latent emotion had run its course, the panic would remain.

That first episode also gave them hope that all Harry's latent emotions would announce themselves before attacking, giving Sirius and Lupin time to prepare – get Harry to the boxing bag before the anger, get out the chocolate in time for the depression, start meditating before the anxiety attack. They also hoped that if all the latent emotions built to their full strength at a gradual incline, then Harry would be able to handle them better. But it didn't always work that way and there was more than one instance when Harry would be hit unexpectedly with crying fits or panic attacks or uncontrollable rage or even fits of laughter.

As the days wore on, they also became aware that Harry was experiencing flashbacks with some of the emotions. Harry hadn't realised it himself, but it made sense: some emotions are based on triggers, on a story or a context that has happened, others are based on random neurons firing signals in the brain, a lot of the time there was no meaning to the emotions, they just were.

After every episode, regardless of which type they were, Harry would find himself physically and mentally exhausted. He would often end his episodes by throwing up in the toilet, the panic of feeling was not letting up. Often he would beg Sirius and Remus to let him sleep – he needed sleep. But Lupin had said that emotions need to be processed and sleep wasn't going to change how he felt. So the two Marauders would sit with Harry after an episode and talk him through it, asking him to relive the emotion again. Asking him what had initially brought on the emotion before he had it sucked into the box, if he could remember.

But if Harry thought sleep would help him find reprieve, he was wrong. The nightmares never stopped and now they were worse because it wasn't the latent emotions that he felt in response to the nightmares, it was his fresh emotions, the ones that he couldn't suck into a box. He supposed this was worse because he knew that once he had finally processed all the latent emotions, once all the episodes had come and gone, he would still feel and he would always feel.

Xxx

It had been two weeks since Harry first arrived at Grimmauld Place and he was lying on his bed, staring up at the ceiling morosely. This wasn't a latent emotion, this was a fresh one. The episodes were still coming but they had eased off in intensity and were becoming less frequent. But Harry was tired – so tired – and he was ready for it all to end.

There was a knock on his door but whoever it was didn't wait for an answer before entering. As it turned out, it was both Sirius and Lupin. Harry had come used to this odd team of parents now. He'd had to. They were the ones that held a cool washcloth to his face when he dry-wretched in the toilet, or dealt with soaked shirts when he sobbed in their arms, or held him down when flew into a violent rage that even the boxing bag couldn't contain. He knew what they had given up for him. He knew what they were doing for him.

He hated them for it.

"Merlin, Harry," Sirius laughed, sitting down on the other bed. They had used the spare bed every night. Sirius and Lupin would take turns sleeping on it. "If Molly saw you now, she would have my behind."

It was true, Harry had lost weight, probably all the vomiting he'd been doing.

"Harry, we should talk," Lupin started, sitting on the end of Harry's bed.

"That's all we do," Harry replied smartly.

"Harry, we need to talk about what happens when you go back to Hogwarts," Lupin continued, ignoring Harry's slight.

Harry sat up quickly, feeling a pinch in his chest. He hadn't even considered going back to Hogwarts, not soon anyway.

"Harry, it's okay," Sirius was suddenly by his side. "Deep breaths. You're not going back for at least another three weeks. School holidays start next week. You'll go back at the start of next semester."

Harry was not lulled. "What if I'm not better by then?" he asked hurriedly, feeling the pinch in his chest tighten.

Lupin smiled kindly. "You will be," he assured, and Harry almost believed him.

"You don't know that," Harry argued, jumping off the bed. "I still can't control how I feel. What if I have an episode in Potions?"

"You won't," Lupin insisted. "You're getting better. You don't panic as much after an episode, which means you're getting used to your emotions again. You haven't thrown a punch at either of us in three days – the longest you've gone, by the way – and yesterday you brought yourself back from a flashback. You did that by yourself. Best of all, you've controlled your magic again."

Harry shook his head, feeling overwhelmed. "I can't go back," he said, looking imploringly at Lupin. "You don't understand what it's like."

"So tell us," Sirius said, patting the bed. "We want to know."

Lupin nodded his agreement. "Harry, we never spoke about why you bought the box in the first place."

"Come on, Harry," Sirius said softly. Harry didn't think Sirius was ever capable of this kind of tenderness, but over the past two weeks, he's starting to question whether his initial perception of Sirius was ever true. "We want to help."

Harry turned away from them, feeling the pinch in his chest lessen a little but the all too familiar burning in his eyes begin. He blinked the tears quickly away before turning back to his godfather and mentor.

"I just didn't want them anymore," he said truthfully, feeling ashamed and silly as he said it.

"Didn't want what?" Lupin pushed.

"Feelings," Harry said simply.

"Why?" Sirius asked.

Harry swallowed thickly. "Because it hurts too much," he tried to ignore the hitch in his voice. He'd cried too much over the past two weeks. If he was getting better as Lupin said, he could stop himself from crying this time. "And I was tired."

"Of what?"

"Of everything!" Harry shouted, suddenly overcome with frustration. Sirius and Lupin didn't even blink an eye, used to Harry's sudden shift in moods. It only meant that he was still getting used to feeling again. "Of Hogwarts and Snape and Umbridge and Voldemort and Dumbledore and everyone."

He was out of breath when he finished his list.

"It's okay to feel that way," Lupin said.

"I don't want to feel that way," Harry spat. "It's easier to feel nothing at all."

"Don't say that," Sirius said, standing from the bed and moving toward Harry swiftly. "I spoke to Ron."

"What?" the alarm on Harry's face was evident. "When?"

Sirius ignored him. "He told me what he said to you," he continued. "About James. Poor boy was near hysterics."

"I don't want to talk about that," Harry said, suddenly realising that the latent emotions related to that event between him, Ron and Hermione hadn't surfaced yet. It was the one he had been dreading the most.

"He told me what he said about James," Sirius repeated, watching Harry closely.

The pinch in Harry's chest had returned. In a sudden panic he knew it was coming. He could almost see the event playing in his mind.

"He told me that you didn't react, that you didn't care," Sirius continued.

"Sirius, stop!" Harry shouted, feeling his breath hitch painfully in his chest. "I don't want to know."

Sirius didn't stop though, Harry knew he wouldn't.

"He said you didn't care about James in that moment," Sirius said sadly. "But I know that's not true. I know you love your father." And suddenly Sirius' voice is pleading with him. "Think about that moment Harry," he said, eyes earnest. "Tell me that when Ron said those things you didn't just suck your love for your father into that damned box."

Harry turned away from Sirius, feeling the flashback begin and suddenly he was there again and he was feeling – he was feeling! Love, such strong love – protective love, defensive love. He had loved his father, insulted for his memory at what Ron said. But he had pressed his hand on that box and he gave up that love. He had given it to the box and he had betrayed his father.

Strong arms were suddenly around him and he was back in his bedroom at Grimmauld Place, his face digging painfully into Sirius' chest, soaking his shirt through. He was aware that he was crying out something, pleading with Sirius to forgive him. Calling for his dad – I'm sorry, I love you, I 'm sorry – calling for his dad again and again.

From somewhere above him, he heard Sirius say wetly, "You can't give up the bad emotions without giving up the good. Love is too good to give up, Harry. Love is too good."

Xxx

"Potter."

"Meyers."

"I see the box worked."

"Yeah, I guess it did."

Meyers cocked an eyebrow and then sighed. He dug into his pocket and took out a handful of coins.

"Here," he said. "I shouldn't have given you the box."

Harry's eyebrows shot up, looking at the Slytherin in the dark dungeon.

"What?" he asked dumbfounded. "This is why you asked me to meet you, to return the box? I don't have it anymore."

Meyers shook his head. "Think of it as an apology."

Harry was becoming suspicious. "I don't understand."

"Look," Meyers huffed. "I shouldn't have given you that box, okay? I was just desperate for some cash. I buy crap cheap on the market and then sell it for a higher price to my buyers." Meyers suddenly looked uncomfortable. "My mum is having some trouble paying back Gringotts. I wanted to help her out."

"Keep it" Harry said, feeling compassion for the boy. "I hope your mum is able to repay Gringotts." He paused. "Why the sudden change of mind anyway?"

Meyers smiled shyly. "Because, what I did was wrong. That box is no good," he re-pocketed the coins gratefully and began to walk away. "Besides," he called over his shoulder. "Like I said before, not every Slytherin wants to see you fail."

Harry stared after him in shock as he turned a corner and out of view. There was a tweak in his chest and Harry felt himself smile.

He felt grateful.

He felt hopeful.

He felt.

A/N: Weird that I decided to finish this story since I am notoriously bad at finishing things ie. What If. Just had a weird urge. If anyone reads this, thanks!