Stockholm Syndrome

By Juno Malabre

5/1/05

The bright day seemed to be deliberately tormenting Harry. What right did the weather have to be happy when he was burning up with anger within. He sighed in resignation as it dawned on him that he always seemed to be angry nowadays. Harry had never realised there were so many different types of anger. A dull, constant resentment which lay like a lead weight in his stomach was a feeling he had felt since…well, since the end of fourth year, after the death of Cedric Diggory. Directed towards Voldemort, it was something he had grown so used to that it had almost become a part of him. It had become a part of him.

'And likely to stay as long as Voldemort does.' thought Harry, glaring out the window at a bird who dared to fly past singing. He itched to cast a silencing spell upon it, but stayed his hand, as he didn't think his uncle would drive him to the ministry for yet another hearing about his use of magic outside school. Now his anger at the Ministry of Magic, that was a different story. It simmered, waiting for provocation, usually from the incompetence of Fudge to make him boil over. But that was rare, especially now with the Minister actually doing something about the Death Eaters currently running amok around the place. Harry had read of more attacks this week alone in the Daily Prophet than the rest of the summer put together, but at least they weren't being hushed up. He supposed it would have been difficult to pass a hundred Dark Marks in two days off as 'high spirits among the younger generation.'

But it was anger at himself that ate into Harry the most, rising in uncontrollable surges of bile, at the least expected moments. Every time he closed his eyes, all he saw was the arc Sirius' body made before it plunged through that curtain into the whispering depths beyond.

It was your fault. It was your fault. It was your fault. A nasty little voice reminded him. And all Harry could do was agree. If he had not rushed off at the first opportunity, trying to play the hero, or had gone to Lupin, or even flown to Grimmauld Place instead of directly to the ministry, Sirius would still be alive.

Harry gave a grimace even as those thoughts ran through his head. 'How cliché to be blaming oneself.' This only led another wave of anger to flow through him. 'Selfish, selfish, selfish!' he thought as he spun round and threw himself onto the narrow bed in the corner of the room. He punched his pillow almost to breaking point, before burying his head in his arms. But the tears that were balancing delicately on his eyelashes refused to fall. He had yet to properly cry over the death of his godfather.

Harry blinked rapidly and scrubbed the dewy drops from his eyes as a snowy figure glided through the window. Hedwig landed next to his bed and held out her claw wearily. She had been taking notes and letters from Harry's friends nearly all summer, and had yet to be sent back with a reply. This latest one came from The Burrow; Harry could tell from the untidy scrawl that Ron had written again. The sixth from him in as many days. He resisted the urge to chuck it straight in the bin and rolled onto his back to read it. It was surprisingly long, usually Ron wrote only a few words, a paragraph at most, but this was a good foot of parchment. "He must have something really consoling to say this time" Harry muttered sardonically.

Harry,

Mum's getting really worried. Well, we all are. You haven't answered anything since we left you at the station, apart from the requisite line to say the Dursley's aren't mistreating you. You should have heard the fuss Mum kicked up the other day. She had one of her scenes about you being alone at this time and stormed straight to Dumbledore. She exactly like Hermione when she gets a bee in her bonnet. You know what I mean?

But anyway mate, we're here for you, especially after Sirius…well…you know. Mum's definitely right about that, you'll have to talk about it sometime, and I'm here when you do. Well, I would be if you answered any of your letters. Don't give up now. We all have to get through this together, and we need you with us. You remember what Dumbledore said at the end of fourth year about sticking together?

'We are only as strong as we are united, as weak as we are divided.' thought Harry bitterly. 'Fine words are easier said than done.' But he continued reading.

This is exactly the kind of thing he's talking about. We'd be like flies to You-Know-Who if he decided to attack now! But the Order seem to think he'll lie low for a little bit, especially now people are actually sitting up and taking notice for once in their lives.

Dad's been so overworked, but good news is he's likely to get a promotion. I told you that in the last note didn't I? But as protecting Muggles is going to be one of the main hassles in this, he's getting shifted up a couple of places. He'll actually be able to arrest people on the spot! Bad news for Malfoy's Dad eh?

Sorry, I'm going on a bit. Kind of hard to know what to say to get you to come and stay with us…so looks like we're just going to have to drag you away from those Muggles you love oh so much…

Mum spoke to Dumbledore, and he says you can come and stay with us now. Actually he said you've been there long enough for the magic to work, whatever that means but I guess it means the same as you can come and stay with us. We're meeting up with Hermione in Diagon Alley on the 30th July, and Dad says he'll connect you to the Floo again so we can pick you up on the way. Um…he also says can you make sure the fireplace is free this time?

Don't do anything stupid in the next few days. See you soon.

-Ron

P.S. Don't spose you've got Pig with you have you? Only he's been gone two weeks, and the last thing I sent him to deliver was a note to you.

Harry couldn't help a smile at the memory of that particular occasion. The tiny bird had collided with the window a few times before finally flying into the room, delivered the scrawled not attached to his leg, and then flown out again…straight into a tree. Harry presumed he was fine as he flew back, albeit crookedly, to The Burrow.

Well, if they were going to physically come and get him he couldn't stop them. And Harry had to admit that he had missed the company. The Dursleys were currently pretending that Harry was not even in the house anymore, although anything he had asked for had been done or bought with such haste that, had his mood been better, he would have laughed. But still, it felt like he had spent the entire summer completely alone. And yet he did not reply to his friends letters. He was almost sure that it wasn't because he wanted to wallow in self pity. It was just…how could they ever know? Once again, he had had to face Voldemort without the support of his friends. So what if one was knocked out by a curse, one had a twisted ankle, one had been made moronic by a flying brain, one had a broken nose and one had been unconscious…

'Selfish, selfish, selfish!' the words once again rang through Harry's head. His friends had had their own things to deal with. And they were all there because they had followed him, to support him, he couldn't deny that. He had led them all nearly to death, and here he was, sulking about how he had had to face Voldemort alone. Well that was his duty wasn't it? According to the prophecy, only he could vanquish his enemy.

Harry heaved a sigh and grabbed a quill and a scrap of parchment.

Ron,

Sorry I haven't written. Things to think about you know? Hope you're all ok. Fireplace was never repaired properly after last time, so you can still get through, and I doubt the Dursleys will even notice I'm gone. See you on the 30th, but tell your Mum not to make a fuss of my birthday. I don't really feel like celebrating this year. Haven't seen Pig since he delivered the note. Perhaps he got lost?

Harry

Well, at least they left him a day to pack, not that that would take much time. He had not even bothered to open his school trunk, let alone completely unpack. But no denying the clothes he currently wore needed a wash, they hadn't left his back since the train journey home. After three weeks even Harry couldn't help but notice that they were starting to smell…just a little.

He fixed the note to Hedwig's leg, and she flew off after giving his fingers a gentle nip. He was still amazed that she seemed to know when he was unhappy, and always managed to make him feel just that little bit better.