A Year of Solitude

By popular demand: Harry’s journal entries as they appeared in Trust. This first chapter is a compilation of the ones that were in Trust. Every chapter after this will be new.

And as always, thanks to Jennifer for the great beta job.

*****

10 June 1998

I just returned from a meeting with Dumbledore and Sirius about the vision I had last night about dueling Voldemort. Sirius was upset that I was so calm about facing him, but Dumbledore seemed to understand. As difficult as it is to keep from Sirius (and Ron and Hermione, for that matter), I’m glad Dumbledore and I agreed to keep the specifics of the prophecy a secret. I don’t want any of them to worry about me any more than they already do. If they did know, it would only be more difficult for them when this is all over, and I care for them too much to put them through even more pain.

After the meeting, Sirius walked me back to Gryffindor Tower, and we stopped for a moment to chat. He sensed a bit of hesitation in my voice earlier, and came to the conclusion that I was in love. He’s right, but what troubles me is that he seemed to know that I’m in love with Hermione, even though I never mentioned her name. She doesn’t know, obviously, but Sirius strongly suggested that I tell her how I feel. He has a point, but I don’t want to hurt her. It wouldn’t be fair to her to put myself out there and then leave her, especially when I probably won’t return. I love her too much to cause her any more pain, and no good could come from telling her.

I have a week before I leave, and Dumbledore suggested that I not say anything to anyone until then. Maybe I’ll change my mind about telling Hermione how I feel, but I can’t see myself doing so. We’ll see.

17 June 1998

Okay, so I changed my mind. I went to her room under my Invisibility Cloak with the sole purpose of just watching her for a few minutes before I left for Little Hangleton, but for reasons I may never understand, I ended up telling her that I love her. No, that I’m in love with her. I don’t remember most of our conversation, but I do remember her kissing me. I’m too ashamed to say it, but all the excuses I gave her for holding back were a feeble attempt on my part to disguise the fact that I was scared that Mione didn’t feel the same way. And now that I know she does, I feel more than a little guilty about leaving her.

She asked me to stay with her, which caught me off guard. I could see the desperation in her eyes, and I’m sure I insulted her when I turned her down. Up to that point, it was the hardest thing I’ve ever done in my life. I couldn’t, with a good conscience, sleep with her and run off the next morning, knowing full well that it would probably be the only night we spent together. At the time the only thing I could think about was the prophecy and my agreement with Dumbledore to keep it secret.

So, I walked out the door. I could feel the pain she was in, because I was, am, in pain, too. But not because of what happened while I was in her room, but what happened after I left. It changed everything. After I put my cloak back on, I stood there next to the door for a few minutes, trying to get the strength to leave. I could hear Mione crying, and I wanted nothing more than to walk back in there and make it better, but my head wasn’t cooperating with my heart. I turned back around to face the door, and she was staring into my eyes (even though she thought I was long gone) and said that she loved me. I turned away immediately. Not because I was scared, but because I now know what I have to do. Voldemort doesn’t stand a chance. I WILL find a way to beat him, and he won’t be a thorn in my side anymore.

21 June 1998

10:15 a.m.

The fact that I’m lying here in St. Mungo’s recovering must mean that Voldemort is gone. The last thing I remember is performing the Killing Curse, and then collapsing from what I assume was exhaustion. I have no idea how I got here, who found me, or what happened to all the Death Eaters, but I’m sure I’ll find out.

Defeating Voldemort came at a great personal cost. Sirius showed up at dawn of the third day, thinking that he was helping me out. He was captured by the Death Eaters, and brought to Voldemort, who immediately used him as a hostage. I was given a choice: surrender or he would kill Sirius. I honestly can’t recall all the thoughts that were running through my head at the time, but Sirius was adamant that I not surrender. I considered it, but took too long to think about it. Before I could do anything about it, Sirius was gone. And more blood on my hands. I can’t help but blame myself. He was there because he thought I needed help, but if he’d known about the prophecy, he would have let me finish it the way it was supposed to be finished. Sirius would still be here, and I wouldn’t feel like I’ve committed partial suicide.

I imagine the Ministry will want a detailed account of our duel, but after that I will speak of it no more. The guilt will be with me forever.

3:00 p.m.

Professor Dumbledore stopped in a few minutes ago. I wish I could say that we had a nice conversation, but the truth is that he did most of the talking while I stared into space. I know he’s just trying to help, but I’m afraid I just wasn’t in the mood to listen. He did tell me that Sirius left all his belongings to me in his will. Grimmauld Place and all the contents of his vault in Gringotts are now mine. Dumbledore gave me an envelope with my name on it before leaving. I could tell immediately that it was from Sirius.

Harry,

The fact that you’re reading this makes me proud to have ever called you my godson. Your parents would be proud of you as well. I wish I could be there to share in the joy of your victory, but it wasn’t meant to be. You deserved to have a better godfather than an escape convict from Azkaban, and for that I apologize.

My biggest regret is that I could never give you the home and family that you deserved. I hope one day you can find that one person to make your life complete. You know where to find her; so don’t let her get away.

As I’m sure Dumbledore has told you, Grimmauld Place is now yours, as well as my vault at Gringotts. In the vault you will find many of your parents’ personal belongings. Hopefully they will answer any questions you may have better than I ever could.

Concerning Grimmauld Place: do with it whatever you wish. I hate to dump the place on you, but the Order no longer has use for it, and I trust your judgment.

Keep your head up, Harry. Your chance to live a normal life is here, so take advantage of it.

Sirius

Completely new journal entry…woo hoo! In case you’re wondering, I have two more of these completely finished after this one, and am working on a new one as well.

*************

23 June 1998

I’ve been told that they’re springing me from this place tomorrow morning. My legs still feel like jelly from the many curses those damned Death Eaters threw at me, but my overall strength is beginning to return. I’ll just have to take it easy for a few days—I somehow don’t think that will be a problem.

I sent an owl to Dumbledore yesterday after the events of the last few days had a chance to sink in. I expressed my shock that my vision about my duel with Voldemort wasn’t exactly accurate, but Dumbledore says that my vision was actually very correct, and that Sirius altered it by interfering. I lost my temper with him for speaking ill of my godfather, but I know what he meant by it. Still, I can’t help but wonder if everything would have been different if Sirius knew about the prophecy and that I was destined to take on Voldemort alone. He wouldn’t have liked it, but he would have been more likely to conform. Instead, he blindly sought us out thinking that he was helping. He did help in a way by giving me the opportunity and emotion to kill Voldemort, but I guess I can’t have my cake and eat it, too. Heaven forbid that I have some happiness in my life.

Minister Fudge stopped by earlier to check on me as well. If it were anyone else, I would think that he genuinely cared about my well being, but I know better. He bolted once I told him that I would be out of here tomorrow. Of course, he made sure that I’d be going directly to the Ministry to be given the third degree. In pure Fudge fashion, he’ll make sure that he’s at the center of everything, even if he has no idea what’s going on. I’ll never forgive him for the way he treated me after the Tri-Wizard Tournament, thinking that I was lying about Voldemort returning. Just the previous year, I was his best friend, and then he turned his back on Hogwarts when we needed him the most.

So it’s my disgust for this man that makes it hard to believe that I asked him for a favor. I still can’t believe that I did it. “Make sure I get in and out of there without Hermione knowing.” What was I thinking? I was thinking that I’m not ready to see her again. I want to see her again, but I’m horrified at the same time. It was so easy for me to tell her I was in love with her when I thought I would never see her again, but now I’m faced with the reality of it all, and it scares me to death. I wasn’t lying to her, but the whole thing was so surreal. I’m already starting to hate myself for telling Fudge to keep her distracted. The truth is that I need her more than I need air. It’s been less than a week since the last time I saw her, but it feels like an eternity. I know I shouldn’t be thinking like this, but I’m a mess right now in more ways than one, and I don’t want her image of me to be blown to bits. I’ve always been the strong one, and if she saw me tomorrow, I would be exactly the opposite. So what it really boils down to is that I’m trying to impress Hermione by making sure she is unaware of my presence. I should be put in a mental institution.

Maybe that’s why I’ve actually decided to spend some time at Grimmauld Place. I’m going to make a stop at Gringotts after I leave the Ministry tomorrow and collect my parents’ belongings from the vault. I’ve been going back and forth between feelings of anxiety and excitement at finally having the opportunity to know my parents better, even if it isn’t in the most conventional way. I’ll take what I can get. I’m really kind of scared to find out what kind of things they left behind, maybe because I hate the idea that I might find something that proves what everyone has been saying all along…that they were wonderful people. And then I’ll feel even worse because they had the chance to know them and I didn’t. At the same time I need to do this. If not for myself, then I have to do it for them. I’ve always wondered what it was like for them, and now maybe I can find out.

*************

Hope you’re enjoying these. I sure had a good time writing them. Chapter 8 of Trust is in the hand of my beta right now, so look for it possibly at the beginning of next week. Merry Christmas everyone!

Here’s another journal entry to go along with Trust. Thanks as always to Jennifer for the great beta job.

***************

24 June 1998

What a day. I just got settled here at Grimmauld Place after an emotionally draining day. I was released from St. Mungo’s at 10 a.m. and then headed straight for the Ministry to give them my official statement concerning the final battle with Voldemort. I must say that I was impressed with their ability to keep the press out of there for a change. If I would have had to deal with reporters on top of everything else I might have blown a fuse.

One thing is for certain: those Ministry officials were very thorough. I’m surprised they didn’t ask me how many times I had to relieve myself over the span of three days. Actually, that’s a good question…too bad I have no idea what the answer is. It wasn’t exactly high on my list of priorities, and I don’t think its very good dueling etiquette to call time out for a potty break.

There was one reporter that managed to break through all the security the Ministry had put together for my arrival, but he was quickly removed. It kind of felt reminiscent of fifth year when I was consistently accompanied by the Advance Guard of the Order. I know the reasons why everyone and their pet fish make a big deal over me, but that doesn’t mean that I have to like it or make an attempt to get used to it. I never asked for any of this, so they can play by my rules for a change…I think I’ve earned the right.

I saw Hermione while I was at the Ministry. She didn’t see me, which was most likely because of all the secrecy that I was there in the first place. I really feel bad about messing with her like this. She has to be expecting me, since she works in the Magical Law Enforcement Squad. Her department is overseeing my statement, and I know they went to great lengths to keep her out of the loop. Fudge told me that he’ll have the department head claim that she was personally too close for the situation should she ask about it. She will ask, I have no doubt about that. Worse yet, she’ll be bloody pissed. As long as she doesn’t know that I was the one who requested she not be involved…it would break her heart if she knew. I’ve stripped her of a chance to do what she does best…take care of me. And I love it when she takes care of me, even if I’ll never admit it to her. She doesn’t take care of me the way a mother would take care of a son, but the way a person nurtures their soul mate. I have no doubt in my mind that she’s my soul mate, and I know that she feels the same. That’s why it hurts so much to be away from her right now, and just after we’ve admitted our long-buried feelings for each other.

Seeing her today made me realize something I’ve never thought about before. I’ve been The Boy Who Lived since the age of eleven, though in reality that’s who I’ve been since I was a year old. What I mean by that is that I’ve only been aware of it since I started at Hogwarts. My life has been built upon the idea that a day would come where I would have to face down Voldemort. I prepared for it, and had many practice runs along the way, not to mention more trips to the hospital wing than I care to mention. Despite my attempts, my life has been under a microscope since I walked into Diagon Alley for the first time. And now it’s over. Voldemort is gone, and I finally have a chance at a normal life. From this moment on, The Boy Who Lived is dead, and only Harry Potter remains. The scar and the memories are still there, but the celebrity is gone. So here’s the big question mark in my life: who am I, and what do I want to be remembered for? I don’t want to be remembered for killing Voldemort, because that path was chosen for me. I have no idea what life path I would choose for myself. What do I want to do for a living? Do I want to get married? Have kids? I have so many questions to answer. And I don’t feel like I can be with Hermione and be a “couple” until I know who I am as an individual. I know Hermione has invested a lot into her own personal identity, so why shouldn’t I do the same?

The first order of business tomorrow is to find a way to rid this house of everything Sirius despised about it. The portrait of his mother…gone. I won’t destroy the tapestry with the family history on it, but it’s definitely coming down off the wall. I’ll save it and ask Tonks if she wants it. If she doesn’t, I’ll let her decide what should be done with it. At least I don’t have to deal with Kreacher anymore. That was one crazy house-elf.

Here’s another of Harry’s journal entries from the Trust universe. A little something to keep you all occupied while I work on Chapter 9…

***************************

27 June 1998

The last couple of days have been especially rough in a number of ways. First of all, my nightmares have kept me awake whenever I’ve actually felt like sleeping. I now find myself finding excuses to stay awake, knowing what is coming the moment I go to sleep. If my mind isn’t replaying the final battle, then I’m having some weird dream where the situation always changes but in the end I’m always alone. The last thing I need is a complex about being alone. Then again, maybe it’s always been there and it’s just now rearing its ugly head.

I did manage what I was beginning to think impossible by getting rid of the portrait of Mrs. Black the other day. It’s funny, but I decided to take a page out of Sirius’ book and just took a knife to the old hag. She wasn’t very happy about it, but what is she going to do? Jump out and berate my half-blooded ass? I don’t think so. I honestly can’t remember how I got the frame off the wall, since we never could get if off before, but maybe that knife had something to do with it. The tapestry in the drawing room gave me the same problems that old picture did, but I finally managed to get it down as well. I folded it up and put it in a box. One of these days I’ll give it to Tonks. I can see the look on her face now…especially since her mother’s name had been blasted off the family history.

I wish Mrs. Weasley hadn’t worked us like house-elves that summer before fifth year; it would be nice to have some work to do that would keep me busy. Instead I have nothing to do but think. Then again, that really is the only reason I’m here. I’m not sure how long I’ll be able to stay here before someone figures out that I’m here. Hermione will most likely be the first one to figure it out. Her and Ron will no doubt find out soon enough that I’ve inherited this place and start coming around wondering why I haven’t owled them or anything.

I had the weirdest dream last night. I have nightmares every night, the usual recurring ones, but for once I can say this was actually a dream. Hermione and I were married. I only know this because I had a habit of messing with my wedding band, like I was afraid it would run off if I didn’t keep an eye on it. Anyway, we were having a picnic in what I assume was our backyard. She looked different, but in a good way. I remember trying to put a finger on what exactly was different…then it came. She was pregnant with our child, and we were so happy. I want that dream so much it hurts. I want the home, the children (plural), the happiness; I want it all. Most of all, I want her. I want her snuggled up next to me in bed, I want her to comfort me when I’ve had a bad day (just as I would comfort her), and I want her to share every part of my life. I don’t want to keep secrets from her; she deserves so much better.

Which brings me back to the beginning…I’m finding ways to keep my dreams from becoming reality. Why do I do this to myself? Why don’t I owl her right now, tell her where I am, and hold on to her for dear life? I think I know the answer…because I’m scared out of my mind. My knowledge of my parents and their life together is very little, but what I do know is that they felt the same way Hermione and I feel about each other. They stood before their family and friends and pledged their love for one another, under the impression that they would lead long lives together. It’s a wonderful dream to have, unless you’re killed before you reach the age of twenty-five. I don’t want that for her. And I don’t want her to feel like she could have led a normal life with someone else, because life with me is anything but normal. I feel like I’ve already ruined her life in some sense, and I just don’t want to make matters worse. If only I could talk to her…

Here’s a new journal entry I wrote during a study break this last week. I’m on Spring Break now, so I hope to get another chapter of Trust up really soon. Until then, I hope this will do. Thanks to AnneU and Jennifer for reading and giving their support.

*************************

1 May 1998

I don’t know what I’m going to do. I just received an owl from Hermione and Ron asking where I was and if I was okay. Before I realized what I was doing, I picked up my quill and started writing a reply. Then I stopped. Maybe I’m thinking too much, but I just don’t know how I’m going to explain how I’m feeling to them if I’m not even sure myself. I’m not even sure I know how to put it into words. I’m relieved that Voldemort is finally gone, but now that I have the opportunity to live my life the way I want to live it, I have no idea how to do it.

I just wish I could decide what the hell I want to do. Part of me wants to stay where I am and sort out everything in my head, and the other part wants to pick that quill back up and tell them where I am. I want to see Hermione again, I really do. But the thought of seeing her and all that would be involved with seeing her scares me. God knows I love her, but I know she’ll want to know exactly what happened with Voldemort, and I know she’ll question why I felt I had to go alone. I never did tell her or Ron about the prophecy, but now I’m wishing I had at least told her. Then maybe it wouldn’t be so hard to face her. She’s the cleverest witch I know, and I’m sure she’s figured at least part of it out.

I’m also not sure how to deal with this thing that’s between us now. Is she my girlfriend? I did tell her I love her, but we never had that deep conversation about having a relationship. Truthfully, I made sure that didn’t happen, because I wasn’t sure that I would be coming back and I didn’t want to get her hopes up like that. She was the one to tell me I had a “people-saving thing,” so I guess in my own weird way, I was saving her from unnecessary heartache. You know, you can’t miss what you never had.

I keep asking myself what it is I hope to accomplish by cutting myself off from everyone. Well, the answer to that question is complicated. Ideally, I want people to forget “The Boy Who Lived,” because he died with Voldemort. I’m just Harry—I always have been, and that’s all I want. I think Hermione is the only other person that has always seen me that way. Even Ron has had his moments where he thought I was treated different because of who I am. I can hear him now actually. “You’re Harry Bloody Potter! Of course you get treated differently!” Never mind that I never asked for any of it. It’s a horrible thought, but if I had my choice, I would have deferred and sent V after Neville.

Note to self: Figure all this out quickly so I stop having thoughts like that. I’d never wish anything like what I went through on anyone else, especially Neville. He’s been a good friend. I have to make sure and tell him the whole story one of these days; he deserves to know, and I doubt that Dumbledore found it necessary to tell him. I can’t help but wonder what life would have been like it he had been chosen. I’d probably still have my parents (maybe) and I wouldn’t be here right now. But would I have had the same friends? Would I have even met Hermione or become her friend? Okay, so maybe one good thing came out of all this mess.