Disclaimer: Not mine

Chapter Three: Release

"So, I was thinking I should switch rooms." Harry announced the next morning at breakfast.

Albus sighed heavily before responding. "I feel we have already discussed this as far as it needs to be discussed. If I am recalling correctly, we decided you should stay where you are."

"That was before I knew, really knew, about Aberforth's condition. I'm sure he would feel better keeping things the way they were before."

"I appreciate your concern for my brother. However, things aren't the way they were before. His healers believe we would be doing him a disservice by pretending they are. Things change. It is our hope that by recognizing these changes, his memories may come back to him."

"I just want him to be comfortable here." Harry sighed. He still felt guilty about everything he had learned last night. While Hermione's dreamless sleep had provided him with adequate rest, he still woke feeling awful. If Aberforth at least had his own room, it would alleviate a minute portion of Harry's guilt. He honestly believed earlier, when he thought of this new line of reasoning, that Albus would see things his way. Apparently, he was wrong yet again. He should really just get "I'm wrong." tattooed on his forehead, he thought morosely.

"I know, my boy. Right now, us going about our daily routines will help provide Aberforth with a feeling of routine as well. The healers feel that as long as he has a sense of normalcy, he may yet recover somewhat."

Harry nodded. Normal. He could do that. Wait...normal?

Of course, nothing about Harry was ever normal. As a child, he was always out of place. He quite clearly didn't belong with the Dursleys, nor did he ever want to. Beyond that, though, there was always something nagging at him. Some inner turmoil that said he wasn't like the other children at school or the adults around him. There was something fundamentally off with him. Hermione said she felt the same growing up and Harry figured it was a consequence of muggleborns or those that are muggle-raised not knowing what they truly were.

Harry had wished with all his heart when Hagrid informed him of Hogwarts that he would finally be at peace. He would be amongst those like him, and everything would be normal. It was just his bad luck that there were not a lot of subtly powerful parselmouths who were being obsessively stalked by an evil overlord.

The dream of normalcy didn't last long for Harry. He recalled walking into the Three Broomsticks and people turning to stare at him. He should have known with reasonable certainty then, but he still held onto a glimmer of hope. Right up until the whole Boy-Who-Lived stuff.

Now, in order to help his beloved guardian's brother, he was being told to be normal. His idea of normal involved mysteries shrouded in darkness, death eater duels, and regular private interludes with Voldemort, both in dreams and reality. Even that had crashed down around him. Not that he was complaining; Harry was quite glad that Voldemort was dead and never returning, but it still broke his normal routine. How could he now act normal when he hadn't grasped exactly what that was yet?

Pig fluttering through an open window startled Harry out of his thoughts. The little owl swooped down, grabbed a piece of bacon, and then presented his leg to Harry, who quickly untied the note and opened it.

Harry,

We knew something was bothering you. Don't worry. We're sure it won't take long for the rest of Voldemort's supporters to be captured. Perhaps, until then, we might be able to visit you instead.

Harry could immediately tell these were Hermione's words. They were of little comfort to him. As much as he wanted to see them, he didn't want anything aggravating Aberforth. Though, wouldn't it be normal for him to have friends over? He shook the thoughts from his head and continued reading. The handwriting changed at this point, and he desperately needed Ron to be a little more supportive.

What do you mean "not safe?" No one would come after you now. You killed their leader. That's a bloody shame mate, but Hermione reckons we could visit you. I doubt Dumbledore will say no. Let us know when we can come.

Once again, Hermione took over.

Yes, write soon, regardless of whether you want us to come or not. Don't worry. The prophecy was fulfilled. It will be fine soon.

Love,

Hermione and Ron

Harry looked up. "I need to write them back."

Albus nodded. "I need to be on my way. Madam Pomfrey will be coming back with us. It shouldn't take long."

Upon returning to his room, Harry unceremoniously plopped Pig on his bed and grabbed ink, parchment, and a quill.

Dear Ron and Hermione,

Of course I want you to come. I'm just not sure now would be a good time to visit. Aberforth arrives today and I don't really know what to expect. He is a lot worse than I thought. Let's see how it goes for a couple of weeks first. I know you guys will understand.

Love,

Harry.

As Pig soared off with his letter, Harry sighed and flopped onto his bed. Now all he could do was wait the dreaded moment he would have to face Aberforth and normalcy.

He didn't have to wait long. Albus, true to his word, returned after only one short hour. Harry heard the sounds of people arriving, but wasn't sure if he was meant to stay in his room at first, or greet Aberforth. Thankfully, or not, depending on viewpoints, Harry did not have to decide; Albus called for him.

Harry rose and had to remind himself to keep breathing. He entered the sitting room and saw Aberforth on the couch with Madam Pomfrey. Albus sat opposite them and motioned for Harry to sit beside him. Harry nervously glanced at the mediwitch, who offered a hint of a smile.

Upon seeing Harry, Aberforth jumped up and began backing away. "No. No, no n..." he whispered.

Madam Pomfrey quickly stood and grabbed his hand. "Aberforth?"

Harry who had timidly sat, also jumped up. Albus placed his hand on the teen's shoulder and gently pushed him back into his chair. They turned to watch Aberforth whispering to Poppy.

"He died two months ago."

"No." she patiently explained. "James died years ago. This is his son, Harry."

"Harry?"

She nodded her head. "Yes, Harry. Harry is almost seventeen now."

"Not a baby?"

"Not a baby." she confirmed.

Aberforth slowly resumed his spot on the couch, timidly stealing little glances at his brother's ward. Harry, for his part, was watching Albus, who in turn, was watching his brother. Madam Pomfrey sensed the uncomfortable silence, but for all her training could not think of a thing to say to break it. Thankfully, Maxie appeared.

"Maxie is bringing tea, sir." the little elf said, addressing Albus.

"Thank you, Maxie."

"Is there anything else Maxie can be doing?"

"Assuming you have taken my brothers luggage to his room, no."

"Maxie is already doings it, sir."

Albus nodded and dismissed the elf. This seemed to remind Aberforth of something, though.

"Did you bring Minerva's stuff to her room as well?"

Harry quickly became interested in the floor as Madam Pomfrey and Albus exchanged looks.

"Aberforth, Harry lives here, now." Albus gently explained.

"Yes, so do I." his brother responded.

"That means that all three rooms are taken."

Aberforth seemingly did not understand what Albus was implying. He carefully regarded Harry before responding again.

"Where does he sleep?"

"In the second largest bedroom in the house."

"My old room?"

Albus answered affirmatively.

"Then, where do I sleep?"

"In the spare room."

"Minerva's room?"

Albus nodded.

"So, where does she sleep?"

Madam Pomfrey dropped her head into her hands, ready for what she was sure would come.

"Outside." answered Albus.

Aberforth began shaking his head so hard Harry was concerned it might fall off. "That can not be. It is absolutely unacceptable."

"Aberforth..."

"No, Albus. You mustn't do this. She won't acclimate well. She deserves to be treated with love and respect. Stick Not James out there instead."

Harry finally let his eyes rise from the carpet where he had been staring since the tea was brought. He said nothing, but regarded Aberforth with a mixture of sadness and disbelief.

Albus patiently sighed. "Aberforth, Harry is a person, who also deserves to be treated with love and respect. He is in my care, and I will not allow him to sleep in a barn when he has a perfectly good bedroom here. You, likewise, are in my care and have your own space. Minerva will be fine with a comfortable hay bed out there."

"No. I forbid it."

"Now, Aberforth." Madam Pomfrey said. "Surely there is some way to ease your worries about her being outside. The barn is warded just like the house. It is perfectly safe. Albus would never put your best goat in danger."

Aberforth turned to Harry and glared at him. Harry shrank in his seat before turning to his guardian. "Can't he and Minerva share a bedroom?"

Albus glanced stiffly at his brother before answering. "No. It was one of the conditions of the ministry when he was released years ago." When he saw that Harry did not understand, he added, "The inappropriate charm thing."

Harry stared at him in shock before turning to a growling sound that seemed to be directed toward him. Indeed, Aberforth was still staring at him, but was now also making threatening noises.

Madam Pomfrey smiled at the boy encouragingly. "Don't worry. He hasn't got a wand."

"This isn't the end of this, Not James. No one interferes with Minerva's happiness."

"Uh, sorry." Harry muttered, unsure of what else he could possibly say.

"Yes, it most certainly is the end of it." Albus answered. "The humans are staying in the house, and the goat is staying in the barn. Just as it should be."

"I love her." yelled Aberforth.

"Yes, I am aware of that. She will be warm, well fed, and protected out there."

Aberforth did not look convinced, but still said nothing. Instead, he returned to glaring at Harry. Madam Pomfrey was busily fusing over potions bottles that she would be leaving. Harry was disconcerted to see that quite a few of them appeared to be calming draughts. Albus quietly sipped his tea while staring out a window. Probably lost in thought as always, Harry realized.

As Maxie was preparing lunch, Madam Pomfrey announced her departure. "Don't you worry, either of you." she assured Albus and Harry. Aberforth was currently engrossed in a crossword puzzle. "Things will be fine, you'll see."

"Do not worry over us. I'm sure we will get on fine." Albus said.

"Harry?"

"Yes, Ma'am?"

"Don't be afraid to stun him if he gets so upset that you can't get him to take a calming draught."

"What?" he gasped.

"You won't be left alone with him in the beginning, but when he is used to you, well, just protect yourself if need be. Albus won't get mad."

Harry again glanced at Albus, who simply nodded.

"Protect myself from what exactly?"

"He gets angry. You saw him. He was working himself up into a right state." the mediwitch explained.

"I thought he wasn't a danger to himself or others." Harry responded.

"He hasn't been." Albus answered. "But you are so self-sacrificing. We want you to be sure you understand that you can and must defend yourself should the unexpected happen."

"As it often does around you." added Madam Pomfrey right before she flooed away.

"All right." Harry promised sullenly.

Albus told Harry to go to the dining room while he retrieved Aberforth. Soon, the three were at the table, eating Maxie's delicious steak and kidney pie. All was silent for the first half of the meal. Harry noticed some shifty looks being sent his way by the younger Dumbledore brother, but tried to ignore it the best he could. It should have been simple, considering how well he had become accustomed to being watched, but this was different. He was in a small, comfortable environment where he had learned last year to feel safe and even happy. It was the only place he felt such warm feelings. He used to feel that way about Hogwarts, but first Umbridge and then their world's fear had stolen that. The Burrow nearly felt like home, except Harry often thought of himself as an intruder there. He loved the Weasleys dearly, but he wasn't one of them. Grimmauld Place had been just to damn dark and gloomy to be a home.

Now, the one place he had left was beginning to feel like a prison, too. The place where he was to take the first baby steps in living a life without Voldemort was not nearly the safe harbor it had seemed even two days ago. He was being held inside because it wasn't safe to go out and living with a man who obviously didn't want him there. The dark thought that for Harry, normal had returned with a vengence, nearly brought him to tears. Then Aberforth decided to speak.

"Hey, Not James. Pass the salt."

"Aberforth, his name is Harry." Albus stated calmly.

"How old are you?" Aberforth asked, seemingly ignoring his brother.

Harry looked up from his plate. "I'll be seventeen next month."

Aberforth nodded in satisfaction. "Minerva can have your room in a month then."

Albus' head jerked up sharply to stare at Aberforth. "Harry lives here now; it is his home. He is not leaving simply because he comes of age. You will remember this, Aberforth."

Maxie appeared to offer fruit salad, but Harry declined. "I was just going to my room."

Albus nodded, but requested Harry's presence in the sitting room in two hours. He hoped that would give him enough time to get Aberforth settled so he could then reassure Harry of his place, both in his home and heart. This was certainly not going as well as Albus had first hoped, and he feared Harry would start to feel like he was a nuisance.

Upon returning to his room, Harry paced. He knew what he wanted, what he craved. He also knew he hadn't resorted to it in a while. The broken glass was still there, though.

"Come on." thought Harry. "Snap out of it. Everything will be fine. Voldemort is dead, just hold on for a little while longer. You made it this far."

The problem was, Harry had been thinking these same thoughts for too long now. He had begged himself to hold on after the tournament because there would come a time when people would believe him again. He had begged himself to hold on all through fifth year, because the Ministry would one day be proven wrong. He had begged himself to hold on through sixth year, because, well just because. And ultimately, he had begged himself to hold on because one day Voldemort would be dead and gone for good.

That day came weeks ago. Why was he still begging? He supposed that it was because the end was growing ever nearer. Once the rest of the death eaters were captured, he would be free and normal, wouldn't he? He just had to hold on until then. It couldn't take long. Hermione and Ron even said so in their last letter. Until then, though...

Harry yanked a piece of glass from his trunk. Pulling up his sleeve, he began to cut.

And far away in Ottery St. Catchpole, two people knew.

A/N: Thanks so much as always to my great reviewers. One of you even guessed where I was headed in the next couple of chapters. Please keep reviewing. The next chapter is coming along well and should be up sooner. (It's finally summer!)