A/N: This story is a sequel to FORESIGHT. It contains references to events and situations that you may not understand if you haven't read the previous one.
Disclaimer: All characters, events and references drawn from HP belong to J.K. Rowling, etc., respectively, everything else is my own invention.
FULFILLMENT
PART ONE
The figure appeared suddenly between two of the white houses that stood beside the road - a road that wound its way up to a village, perched on a shallow hill and riddled all around with similar white stucco buildings and a small church.
He paused, standing still in the shadow between the houses, waiting to see if anyone had stirred at the sound of the pop that had accompanied his arrival. After moments of silence, undisturbed by any noise of movement, he slowly put away his wand and then quietly began to walk from between the houses down a small incline, past the backyards, and finally into the open. After several yards of trudging through soft, dry sand he finally stopped, just shy of the water that had washed up onto the beach and then quickly receded away again.
He closed his eyes, breathing in the salt tinged air deeply and listening to the sound of the waves rushing in from the ocean onto the shore that stretched beyond vision on either side. The air was humid and warm, something he welcomed as a relief from the damp, cool air of the land from which he had come. He then looked up to see a dark sky filled to the brim with stars, sparkling down on him. It was so beautiful out here, under those stars, those same stars…but this time there was no moon. He closed his eyes once more, letting his senses fill up with all the sounds and smells of the natural world that gave him such a feeling of rest and peace. He then peered out into the horizon at the edge of the ocean, and waited…
Eternal moments seemed to pass as he stood fixated, looking for that first signal of the dawn. And finally, there it was. The purplish hue came up along the rim of the horizon and was then followed by the orange expanse of light which slowly crept upwards until it began to fill the sky and shut out the stars. Then the tip of the reddish orb itself began to appear and slowly make its way up into the sky, changing the quality of the light as it rose. The sun now fired its rays everywhere along the beach that lined the shores of this island in the Mediterranean ocean. The light hit his eyes, through his round spectacles, and he closed them once more, letting the heat and brightness bathe his face in its glow. He exhaled slowly. It was good to be back here again. But no sooner had he begun to feel a sense of ease in this silent, early dawn moment, than something else intruded into its place. It was that same feeling of emptiness and sense of despair that had almost consumed him the previous year. However, this time it wasn't the girl he loved that was causing the pain.
Harry Potter was in a crisis, in both his heart and mind. It was something that no amount of training or foresight could have prepared him for. He was simply stuck and had no idea of what to do about it. For months now, he had been carrying the weight of this burden that had gradually begun to form in his mind during his last term at Hogwarts. Despite considering the final term in his seventh year to be the happiest and best of them all, the realization that it would be over and that he would now have to face his world, outside of the context of the 'simple' life of a wizard-in-training, had dawned on him not too long before graduation and had begun to dampen his spirits.
It wasn't the idea itself, of being out of school, that bothered him. In fact, he, Ron and Hermione had already experienced that, somewhat, during their quest for Voldemort's horcruxes. Something which, despite the dangers they had faced, was one of the most enjoyable times he could remember. He still possessed a considerable sum of money in Gringotts that would enable him to live quite comfortably for many years yet to come. But simply existing didn't appeal to Harry at all. He needed something to do, some purpose for his life now, other than just spending his parent's money until his vault was dry. Unfortunately, none of the usual routes in wizard careers appealed to him either - especially with everything he had been through. What does one do after 'delivering the world' from the threat of evil and chaos? Every option now seemed so trivial in comparison.
He realized now that despite his dislike of what had been expected of him with regards to Voldemort, that his continuing conflict with the Dark Lord over the years had, at least subconsciously, served as a real purpose and destiny. When, therefore, it was finally all over with, the emptiness of a life without some 'higher' goal came crashing in on the happy times that he thought were here to stay. He simply felt useless.
Harry had watched his friends, over the course of months at school, start their plans for careers in wizardry in one form or another. Several of them, Hermione included, had applied for entrance into some of the higher wizarding universities in Britain, and elsewhere, to pursue opportunities that required greater magical skills and knowledge than Hogwarts provided. He was so happy for Hermione, going after her idea of becoming a teacher and possibly more. She had applied to and was immediately accepted at Madam Goodthorn's Advanced School for the Magic Arts, not terribly far from her parent's home in England. She had talked a lot about that during their last term, sometimes to Harry's chagrin. He couldn't help but feel somewhat left behind in the face of her enthusiasm because he himself didn't know what he wanted to do.
Hermione, many of the students, and several of the teachers had tried to convince Harry to become a teacher in, of course, Defense Against the Dark Arts. So many people simply believed that because of his 'vanquishing' of Voldemort and the talents he had displayed in wizardry over the years, that he was already in the upper echelon of expertise on that subject. But Harry knew the truth about what happened with Voldemort - that it was not his skills or magical abilities that had destroyed his enemy, at least not that he knew about. And this knowledge, along with seeing so much evil and darkness over the course of his life, had disillusioned him with the idea of having to delve deeper into the world of the dark arts any further, let alone teach it. No, he wanted something that didn't involve a constant exposure to the side of magic that had haunted him since childhood. There would be plenty of chances to encounter and deal with dark wizards and witches in this life, regardless of what he might do, and he didn't want any more of that than necessary.
In the same vein, others had felt that he might become a great Auror, a path that his friend Neville Longbottom had chosen to take. Neville, inspired by his time in DA and his experience in battle with Death Eaters had, to his Grandmother's delight, determined to pursue the life of one of the most respected and at the same time loathed professions that the wizarding world had to offer. But Harry felt that choice was even worse. Dealing with darkness directly? He sighed at the thought. Becoming another Mad-Eye Moody or one of those edgy warlocks that had been paid to guard Hogwarts last year, during the war, didn't appeal to his heart at all.
Harry shook his head, his eyes falling downward, brushing one foot around in the wet sand. Far worse than either of those two options was the idea of working for the Ministry of Magic. He had already been enthusiastically offered a few different positions in the Ministry, something which he thought was conciliatory on the governments part after their blundering of the war against Voldemort. He loathed the Ministry and could not accept becoming a part of the very entity that had accused him of wrong doing in his fifth year, that had branded his godfather a murderer, that had tried to manipulate Dumbledore, McGonagall and others at Hogwarts for their own interests and that had done such a bang up job of steering clear of Voldemort himself while fighting minor skirmishes throughout the country. Perhaps the bureaucrats in the Ministry feared Voldemort actually winning and taking over - they would not want to be on his bad side now would they? Anger flashed over Harry's face at the very thought of it.
Harry spun around at the sound of noises behind him. The denizens of the village had begun to awaken and begin their morning rituals. At least they seemed to have a purpose in life, Harry thought sadly. He then turned back to gaze once more into the sunrise over the sea. He really liked coming here. Of all the places that he had apparated to over the past couple of months, in an effort to try and solve his dilemma, this one was the most peaceful…and different. Different. That's what he needed, but he didn't know what 'that' was.
He remembered his feeling of inadequacy the night he had faced Voldemort - an enemy that had proven himself far superior in his knowledge of magic and the world. Harry himself had seen so little of the world and something burned in him now to just go out and explore it. He had the means and the time to do it. He could travel for years if he wanted too. But there was one problem with that scenario. Hermione.
The pang of longing came over him again at the thought of her. She was the most special person he knew in this world and had fallen in love with her even more over the course of their final months in school together - something which made his present dilemma even more distressing.
They had performed admirably in their studies, with Professor McGonagall's promised help of course, but it wasn't easy. The doubling and even tripling of work they had to do was compounded with the ever present distraction of just wanting to be alone together. By the time they had passed their N.E.W.T.S., barely, Harry and Hermione had discovered practically every little private nook and hideout in the castle or on the school grounds. Many times it was simply to be able to study together in quiet, but almost always ended up in some intense snogging sessions that they both had to force themselves out of, time and again, or risk failing their classes. Harry smiled at the memory of those days.
Most everyone, including Ron, had assumed that they would now take their relationship to the next level - marriage. After all, his parents had married not long after leaving Hogwarts and the obviously intense relationship between Harry and Hermione had been remarked on by many of their fellow students over the course of the months following their night with Voldemort. Indeed, they both had both begun to recognize something between them that was beyond what appeared to be 'normal' for a couple in love. It was as though some invisible tether now connected their souls and manifested itself in some astonishing ways. One would automatically finish the other's statements or would already be engaged in some action that would amazingly fit in with the others intentions, without even exchanging a word. It scared them sometimes and unnerved Ron more than once. Harry laughingly thought about all the times when Ron would be with them and then promptly get up and leave, a contorted look on his face. "You two are weird!" he would say, walking away with puzzlement. Maybe it had something to do with that strange sphere of light on that night last year, but the two of them interacted with each other as though they had been together for a lifetime.
It was then that Harry had also begun to notice that 'something' in Hermione's eyes as they neared the end of their lives at the school. In a hundred different ways she seemed to be indicating to him that she did want to go to that next level. Though she never mentioned it to him directly, he could tell by the look in her eyes, the words she used and the little things she did that she was hoping for 'something' after they graduated. But that was the trouble. As much as he loved her and wanted to be with her for the rest of his life, he simply could not move in that direction without knowing his own path to take. Besides, whatever he was going to do would have an obvious impact on both of them. This problem had caused a strain between them even more over the summer months. Harry had distanced himself from Hermione emotionally, to a certain degree, precisely because he wanted to have her so badly and yet could not face a listless future with her no matter how much she might stay by his side. He realized the pain this had caused her too, something not to dissimilar from that which he had experienced during her own 'change' last year.
'But what? What can I do?' Harry shouted to himself inside. Even Ron had found something to be passionate about. Ron had indeed become the hero of the Gryffindor team several times during the term and was finally offered the position of captain. Harry knew, however, that Ron's 'amazing' Quidditch skills had been greatly enhanced by a new found inspiration in his life - an inspiration in the form of one Luna Lovegood. During his rehabilitation in the hospital wing of Hogwarts last year, she became one of Ron's most frequent visitors. She would arrive in the morning and read to him from The Quibbler or the Daily Prophet and then they would talk, sometimes for hours. This was something that Ron looked forward to so much that he would refuse to eat any breakfast from Madam Pomfrey until after Luna arrived. Harry smiled at the memory of arriving in the wing one morning, to see Ron reading a copy of The Quibbler upside down, his face screwed up in an attempt to perceive the words. Ron then embarrassingly and quickly put the magazine away at seeing him walk in. Harry suspected that Ron's stay in the ward that fall was a little longer than necessary.
Luna truly had a profound impact on the red haired teenager. Harry noticed that he was far quieter and reflective when Luna wasn't there, and when the two of them were together Ron invariably had her in stitches over something. Ron loved that and had all but confessed to Harry his love for her. As a matter of fact, Harry mused, he couldn't recall a single argument or fight between them. Luna, though eccentric, was so amiable that Harry couldn't help but like her himself, even more than before. She and Ron seemed to fit well together, though Ron continually complained that he didn't deserve such a 'beautiful' girl.
And so her regular presence at the Quidditch matches gave Ron something to really play for, to the good fortune of the Gryffindor team. This had also inspired Ron with the idea to try out for England's team after school was out. He apparently was going to go all the way in the sport if possible, and he had someone who showed unequivocal support and interest in his idea. Harry was glad for his best friend. But Harry himself simply didn't care about Quidditch anymore. As enthusiastic as he used to be towards the sport, it held little interest for him now. It seemed too trivial a matter in the face of such a cold world filled with all the Voldemorts, Snapes and Malfoys out there. No, that would not be his path either.
Harry felt the sadness in his heart once more. He knelt down and reaching out with one finger began writing in the sand.
Happy Birthday Harry.
He stared at the words for several moments, wondering. He realized that he had only a short time before someone would notice him out here alone on the beach, so he stood up and retrieved his wand, gazing once more out at the beautiful ocean. Pausing briefly to take in the smells and sounds once more, he then spoke the words and disappeared from the island.
No sooner had he disapparated into the living room at 12 Grimmauld Place, than he noticed the musty, old smell of the house. That, coupled with its emptiness and dankness seemed repulsive to Harry's senses after the exciting sensations of the small island world from which he had arrived. Grim old place indeed, he thought. He hated the very sight of it now. It had been his permanent home since graduation, but the memories it recalled and the loneliness it evoked were becoming unbearable to his mind. He desperately needed something new, something that would distance him from so many of the horrors in his past.
The Order itself had disbanded and was replaced by a MOM version which few people believed would work as efficiently as Dumbledore's original idea. So, this house was no longer its headquarters and each of the surviving members had moved on to other paths in life. Harry had, therefore, been mulling over an idea since graduation and was now determined in his thoughts - he would sell it and move elsewhere.
He slowly walked into the kitchen and stopped, hands in his pockets. All was quiet in the house except for the ticking of the small clock on the mantle in the living area. He had struggled alone with this problem long enough. Perhaps it was time to get some help from someone he knew that could lead him in the right direction. He really appreciated Hermione's love and support of him through this difficulty, but she no more had an answer that satisfied him than he did. Maybe Professor McGonagall could help or maybe…
Harry was startled at the noise of a commotion coming from the living room, followed by hurried footsteps. He turned just in time to see a brownish blur fly around the corner and head straight for him…