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And you would watch with serenity through the winters of your grief.
Much of your pain is self-chosen.
It is the bitter poison by which the physician within you heals your sick self.

The Prophet – Kahlil Gibran

Make Me Forget

Remus Lupin entered Grimmauld Place; it was dark, quiet, and almost deserted. He might have worried, had it not been for the covered plate of biscuits - baked this afternoon – placed carefully on the kitchen table, next to a drying sandwich. Molly never rested, even when she was asleep.

Lupin looked at these offerings, and considered eating them - no, tea was what he wanted now - well he’d actually prefer something a bit stronger, but after Hermione had found him alone in Beaky’s room, he’d steered clear of the hard stuff. Not a good example to set - coping with one's grief through inebriation - besides, he needed a clear head for tomorrow. Moody had practically threatened Lupin with the Unforgivables if he didn’t return to Grimmauld Place, but he hadn't wanted to stop the search for Tonks. Harry was more than well protected with Dumbledore and the others, making his confinement even more frustrating.

If he were honest with himself, Remus felt that Harry’s words had been justified and quite piercingly truthful, more truthful than he cared to admit, which was why he chose to distance himself from Harry for the time being.

He sipped the tea; it left a bitter taste in his mouth. He stirred in sugar and looked into the cup. Was there anything tea couldn’t do? It was a mood enhancer, a shock reliever, a pick-me-up, a perspective giver, a quencher of thirst, and best of all, it didn’t judge.

He rested his head on to his arms, and tried to clear his thoughts. He succeeded, for he slipped into sleep - his sandwich and tea left unrequited to listen to the sound of slow snoring.


It was early enough for first light to still be slumbering. Harry’s sleep had been restless, and he was staring at the shadowy ceiling. He made pictures with the shadows in his head, as one would with clouds on a cloudy day. The images turned over in his sight, as the events of the day turned over in his mind. He regretted the things he had said to Remus, but in his heart, he knew that he had to say them. Frustration fluttered in his chest, stirring, as he relived each event. Things weren’t as resolved as he would have liked, Remus never fought back, he just took the barrage on the chin – just like everything – Harry could not help thinking; Lupin had become indifferent.

Finally deciding that thirst for water was only second to his need to relieve himself, he threw back the bed linen, and made his way out of the bedroom and across the landing. When he left the bathroom a few moments later, he headed down the stairs toward the kitchen. He gave a start as he saw a thin shaft of light cascading out from underneath the closed door. Realising that he didn’t have his wand, Harry felt oddly naked, and played with the idea of going back up to get it. If the last year - and last few days - had taught him anything, it was the value of waiting - and thinking - before rushing into a situation, easier thought than done though.

Harry waited, and deliberated for a moment, keeping quiet and still. All he could think was, it could be Tonks, he reasoned that Voldemort would not be sitting in the kitchen drinking tea. Moody’s voice echoed in his head, “Constant vigilance!” His eyes searched the gloom, and they latched onto a vase – he picked it up, weighed it in his hands, and felt it was bulky enough for a serious concussion.

Harry took in a deep breath, then as deftly as he could, he pushed the door. The muscles in his face involuntarily contorted when his ears were assaulted by what seemed to be the last breath of a dying violin. Harry froze, and listened to the silence. He picked out the resonance of slow cadent breathing - someone dozing. He pushed the door open further, and popped his head around it. On seeing Remus sleeping out of his bed, Harry felt a rush of guilt flood through him. He put the vase back on the table in the hall.

He entered the room softly, and then went to make sure Remus was ok. He watched the rise and fall of his chest. Harry thought it would be wrong to wake him, so he didn’t. He took a blanket from the pile of neatly folded washing near the table and draped it over Remus, he didn’t stir, but carried on breathing in much the same manner as he had before. As an afterthought Harry felt it may have been better to wake him; if Molly found him like that she would be in a serious mothering mood tomorrow, and Remus would get no peace. He smiled at the thought of teasing him, but left Remus to his dreams.

Harry turned quietly, and removed a glass from the cupboard, he was thankful the cupboard was quiet. He poured some water into his glass, and realised he couldn’t hear Lupin's sluggish drone. He felt the hairs on his neck prickle; instinctively he knew something was wrong, extremely wrong, though his stomach churned in trepidation, he forced himself to turn.

All the saliva dried in Harry's mouth when he saw that Lupin had been standing right behind him, his eyes weren’t human, they were ochre and feral. Lupin smiled, which, combined with his wild gaze, nearly made Harry scream.

“Harry?” Lupin's voice sounded rough, urgent, and concerned at Harry’s reaction to him, his brow was furrowed in confusion.

”Your eyes…” Harry whispered - unable to say more than that - and stared at Remus.

Lupin’s hand moved involuntarily to his face, he then sidestepped and opened the curtains to look at his face in the murky reflection of the window. The sharp intake of breath told Harry that Lupin remained, and still governed the wolf. Lupin’s right hand went straight to his pocket, and he pulled out a silver tube that Harry had seen Lupin use previously whenever he drank. He took the water Harry had put down on the side, and shook a generous amount into it. He swirled it around, tipping back his head, and finished it in a single draught. He shuddered a little, and made a disgusted face. He rested both of his hands down on the sink edge, and lowered his head as if in defeat.

He moved over to the cellar, and when he saw Harry had not followed him, Lupin nodded to himself, withdrew his wand, and held it out to Harry. Harry knew Lupin wanted him to do, stepped forward, and took the wand. He kept it directed at Remus, who then turned and went into the cellar.

“Lock the door tight, Harry, just in case,” Lupin’s voice sounded resigned, but firm, and he shut the door behind him.

Harry stood for a moment looking at Lupin’s wand in his hands, and frowned. The pit of guilt in his stomach turned over again, he quickly stepped forward to the cellar door and opened it. The musty cellar smell wafted up from the wake of the opening door.

“Remus?” Harry called in a hushed voice. He fought the urge to say, ’ are you alright?’ knowing it would sound ridiculous to his own ears, as it was quite apparent that he wasn’t.

“Go back upstairs, Harry, it's not safe for you here, just let Molly know I’m down here,” Lupin stated. “Make sure you lock that door tight, and if you can, seal it with a shielding spell,” Lupin sighed, and Harry could hear him tying something.

Harry took a couple of steps down the stairs, which creaked resentfully. Harry squinted in the non-existent light, and wondered how on earth Remus could see in this darkness. His mind automatically made the connection to the wolfish eyes Remus now had, and tried not to shudder. After meeting the werewolf first hand, Harry knew it wasn’t something to be treated lightly.

“Harry, please… go back upstairs, and secure this room. It's not safe for you to be down here at all,” Lupin tried to sound stern, but was too exhausted.

“I just wanted to ask you something - tell you something…” Harry started.

“Harry, if this about the other day, don’t worry about it, we can talk tomorrow if you still want to, but for now, I need to know that the door is shut and bolted.” Lupin’s exasperated voice hung in the air between them, and Harry knew he was being rebuffed, but he didn’t want to let it go because he knew he wouldn’t be able to talk tomorrow.

Somehow, the dark and the distance between them made it ok for the question to be asked, somehow Harry forgot propriety, and in desperation his mouth opened - the words out - before his brain engaged in sensibility.

“How did you live without them?”

A silence roared out from the dark, it hung in the air as a tangible substance, one that pushed and divided the gloom. As the moments passed, Harry became more aware of the fact that he may have pushed beyond what was reasonable. He was regretting his rashness, his stupid mouth, and wondering if he should just leave - unable to say anything further. He stood, his feet making scuffling sounds on the steps. He put his hand out to the door handle, and grasped it.

“I’ll speak to you tomorrow then…” he couldn’t quite manage, ”I’m sorry,” or ”Ignore me, I’m a prat.” He pulled open the door, and wondered how he’d look Remus in the eye tomorrow.

He heard Lupin’s subdued voice drift up through the quiet, “I didn’t, Harry.”

Harry paused, deciding whether he should comment - say something - and searched his brain from something penitent, but before he could, Lupin spoke again.

“Go to bed, Harry… the door, don’t forget to lock it.”

Harry closed the door and locked it.


The tumult of silence failed to quiet the roar of thoughts, which squalled into eddies of guilt and blame. He shut his eyes, but the images were relentless, he knew that the fetid thoughts would not leave him tonight, and for once; he wished he wasn’t alone with them. For he was starting to think that the self-isolation he enforced was a particularly unintelligent thing to be imposing on oneself.

He’d been foolish tonight, he had left the house and been stupid enough to drink with other people. They were people he trusted, Aurors of the Ministry to boot, but he hadn’t paid any attention to what he had been doing. He had been wrapped up in looking for Tonks, dwelling on all the things Harry said to him, and on the things he wished he had said back. When had he become so careless? There had been a time where he would have never made those sorts of stupid mistakes – well, unless one counts not remembering to take his Wolfsbane potion, and nearly killing those he cared about - he thought bitterly.

A dark tainted thought tugged at the back of his mind, he didn’t want to confront it, but it was there, pushing at him, letting him know that a repetition of history might be occurring. He allowed his mind to form the word… traitor. Someone he knew, and possibly cared about, was betraying them to Voldemort. The possibility had been discussed when he had first fallen to the Lupis Dementia, though he hadn't realised it had been a possibility before then as well, his condition had just confirmed it. But who? Hermione had brushed the surface of that theory the other day, but had failed to make the connection. He was secretly impressed with her powers of deduction though; she would go far with that intellect of hers.

The possibility occurred to him that the traitor could be under the imperious curse, but as time drew on, it was looking less likely. Prolonged use of the curse usually showed after a while, the longer one is under the curse, the more likely it was that you could start to break it. No, it seemed as though they had a fully-fledged traitor, someone who had decided Voldemort was the winning formula.

Remus pushed the thoughts away again. Laying in the dark and dreaming up plots of betrayal wasn’t really his style, but it something he couldn’t help thinking of. He looked at the ceiling, shut his eyes, and decided to wait for dawn.


Hermione woke with a start; the bad dream that she had been having, finishing suddenly. She tried to remember snippets of the dream, as she pushed her night-tangled mane from her eyes. The dream had been dark, a vision of the future? Maybe a vision of the oncoming war, and all that she feared. Dead faces appeared to her, those who she loved and cared for.

She looked over at Ginny’s bed, where a mop of red hair poked out from beneath the duvet. Hermione took a moment and enviously watched Ginny’s peaceful slumber. She couldn’t wake her, it just didn’t feel right, and so she left her where she lay. Hermione then dressed for breakfast, in what would be their last full day at Grimmauld Place.

She found Molly in the kitchen with Arthur and Remus. Of course the boys weren’t up yet, that was to be expected, they wouldn’t rise until Molly went up there and ‘persuaded’ them to leave their beds. Hermione was just glad that she never had to be ‘persuaded.’

Hermione realised that Arthur might have some news about Tonks; a quick look a Molly’s face suggested that, at least, there had been no bad news.

She sat down at the table, and said, “Morning,” to both men. She got a tired smile from Remus, and a nod from Mr Weasley, who had his mouth full of toast. Hermione poured a cup of tea from the pot, and asked, “Has there been any news yet?”

Lupin looked up and shook his head, “We’ve heard nothing yet. I’m sure when they know something, we’ll be told soon enough,” his eyes looked to Arthur - who was just swallowing his toast – for conformation.

“Oh yes, absolutely,” he said with a cheerfulness that Hermione knew was for her benefit. “Tonks is well trained, she’ll turn up soon enough. She’s probably just keeping a low profile.”

“Why would she do that, Mr Weasley? I would’ve thought that she would have returned back to find out if everything was all right,“ Hermione enquired. She wasn’t happy with Arthur’s answer, that didn’t make any sense to her at all. Tonks wouldn’t keep people wondering like that, not unless there were reasons for it.

Arthur seemed to realise that he had been talking down to Hermione a bit, because his gaze sharpened and focused on her for a moment, as if assessing her. “Perhaps she gave pursuit and is injured, she may have been discovered but we won't know for sure until we find her.” Arthur lent forward slightly, and this time when he smiled, it reached his eyes. “I really wouldn’t worry though, she’s a tough old bird is Tonks, you’d be surprised at what she can do.”

Hermione nodded, feeling a little more secure at the conviction in Mr Weasley's eyes.

“Anyway, I must be off to work,” Arthur said, rising from the table, drinking the last of his tea, and grabbing his cloak. He put the cup down, and bent slightly to kiss Molly, who had just entered the room. She blushed, and kissed him back, her eyes sending secret messages that only years of familiarity and love would decipher. He smiled as he waved goodbye to Hermione and Remus, then left.

Hermione heard Molly mutter, “Silly man,” and stare for a moment, at the door Arthur had exited through. She couldn’t help but smile at Molly, for all her fierceness, she loved just as passionately for all those she cared about. She watched as Molly fussed about the used plates on the table and cleared them, as if they were reminders of the absent user just departed.

She turned from Molly’s loud tidying to Professor Lupin’s quiet reverie. Hermione noted that Remus looked extremely tired, more so than he had before, and he always looked tired. She inclined her head hoping to catch his eye; it wouldn’t do to startle him out of his thoughts, not when he seemed so drained.

His eyes turned to hers, and seemed to take a moment to realise that she was looking at him directly. She smiled and said, “Tough night?” she knew that the row with Harry must be on his mind, as well as Tonks’ disappearance.

“Yes, you could say that. I had a slight relapse last night and spent the night in the not-so-comfortable cellar, with all its familiar musty homeliness,” his face showed his amusement through the tired mask, it was like seeing sunshine peek from behind a cloud.

Hermione pulled a sympathetic face; she knew how awful it was for him to be down there, she’d heard his pain. “Was it very bad? I didn’t hear anything last night,” she asked, hoping that he wouldn’t feel embarrassed speaking to her about it - well he hadn't before.

“It wasn’t as bad as last time, in fact I remember it all, hard bed and dusty. I think even the spiders were glad to see the back of me this morning, and Arthur let me out of the cellar this morning, thankfully,” Lupin sipped his tea, and then looked conspiratorially at Hermione, his eyes gleaming despite the tired lines. “I even managed to make Molly breakfast this morning. Though she hasn’t forgiven me yet, I’ve had about ten pots of guilt tea from her since then,” he exaggerated.

Hermione snorted at his words, and put her hand across her mouth to stop herself from making any more silly noises, she shook with silent laughter. It was at this point that Molly came over and laid a hand on the cooling pot.

“That’s cold now, I’ll get you a fresh one, Remus,” she lifted the pot away, not seeing Lupin lift one conspiring eyebrow at Hermione, who still had her hand across her mouth, as if to say ‘you see.’

Lupin smiled, seeing her laugh like that made it worth getting up, it was rejuvenating, and a change from the complicated thoughts and dreams of the night before. It seemed to lift the weariness from him, as though it had been a shroud covering him. He listened as she started to question him about the sorts of things she would have to expect from her first year of NEWTS. Her enthusiasm was catching, and soon he had lost himself in a whirl of Defence Against the Dark Arts, Potions, and Arithmancy.


Harry had awoken to the sight of Ron, thumping him with a pillow. It was surprising how much a pillow could hurt when you didn’t see it coming.

“Come on, Harry, wake up!” Ron seemed to be bouncing around the room, with an unnatural amount of vigour for the morning.

Ron threw open the curtains, and light-blinded Harry temporarily, Harry groaned and turned over, pulling his own pillow over his head. He knew it was a futile gesture really, but he’d hoped his sight would return, and all would be clear again. He felt the pillow being removed, and he rolled over.

“All right, I give up,” he held his hands in the air. “What’s happened to make you so happy?”

“We’re going back to Hogwarts tomorrow.”

“That’s what’s making you jump around the bedroom and hit me with pillows?” Harry asked in disbelief.

“Oh no, it's not that, our OWL results are here. Your letter is downstairs.”

“Wait… what time is it?” Harry asked confused.

“It's the afternoon… come on! Harry, get dressed!”

“Why are we getting them now, aren't they late?” The just woken fog of sleep still hadn't quite left him, he still wasn’t quite getting what was going on, and why had they let him sleep in like that? He pulled on his trousers and jumper, and headed after Ron down the stairs – his questions disappearing with the murk of sleep.

In the kitchen, Hermione was sitting looking at her unopened letter nervously, as though it might bite her. Ron was tearing into his, with Molly watching nervously. Lupin was calmly watching the whole scene, smiling slightly, as though he were remembering opening his OWL letter.

Harry's thoughts clouded as he remembered the night before, he looked to Lupin - who regarded him warmly – as though nothing had transpired.

“Well, Harry?” Lupin said, “Aren't you dying to know how you did?”

Harry grinned, and tore open his own letter. Not too bad, he thought, as his eyes scanned the page. His heart turned a bit when he saw that he hadn't achieved Outstanding in Potions, which was the NEWT out then, no future Auror job. Overall, they’d done really well between the three of them, Hermione’s results being the best, of course. They then spent the next hour planning their future careers.


Lupin gave Harry some time to revel in his achievements before he entered the living room - where the four of them had made camp - and were discussing the pros and cons of drowning Draco in the prefects’ bathroom. He could hear Hermione's scandalised voice, telling them that they were being obtuse, and Ginny’s giggling. Remus smiled to himself as he walked in, some things didn’t change with time. He looked to Harry, who smiled but looked wary; he knew what Remus was going to talk about.

Lupin smiled at Ron, Ginny, Hermione, and then looked to Harry, who had already started to get to his feet, “Harry, do you think I could have a moment with you?” he said gently.

Harry nodded, “Yeah, of course,” and followed Remus out of the room, leaving the others to guess what Lupin wanted.

They sat together in the kitchen, on opposite sides of the table, and looked at each other. Harry sat cross-armed, hunched forward, and defensive. Lupin sat back in his own chair, one arm lay in his lap, and the other rested softly on the table.

“I wanted to answer your question for you, the one you asked me last night… that is if you still want to hear the answer?” Lupin asked uncertainly.

Harry seemed to hesitate only briefly before saying, “I wasn’t thinking last night… I was a little unnerved by what happened. I didn’t mean to upset you the way I did, you certainly don’t have to explain anything to me, Remus.” Harry looked at his hands while he spoke, seemingly unable to look Remus in the eye.

Lupin regarded Harry carefully, he knew what a firecracker Harry could be sometimes, and he wanted to give Harry all the chances he needed to ask the questions he so obviously wanted to. It was only fair really, considering the only time Harry had approached him he had turned him away. Secretly inside, Lupin dreaded the questions Harry might ask. He knew that he was laying himself open, and dredging up all the old emotions was not his idea of a fun time. He summoned a pot of tea, and looked at it, suddenly aware that the apex of his summer had been at this kitchen table, drinking tea. How tragic was that?

“Harry, what I said last night was foolish, but in a way… it was true,” Remus paused, gauging the response, which was minimal, and Harry was staring into the teacup he had acquired. “I didn’t live properly for a long time afterward, I really didn’t know how to, you see I had lost all my friends, two dead, one worse than dead and it really… really…” Lupin struggled, and shrugged slightly when Harry looked up. “It made me reassess what I knew life to be, because it hadn't been what I thought; what I thought it had been had gone, replaced by this new and bright future, because Voldemort was dead. The wizarding world rejoiced - while some of us were left to deal with the aftermath, and cost of that victory.”

Remus looked to the ceiling, gathering strength for the questions he knew would follow, he would do his best - say his best - and hope that Harry would understand.

Harry spoke whilst Lupin was in mid thought, his voice was quiet, but there was a cold edge to it, anger. “Why did you stop me? I could have got to him in time.”

The pain that had crossed Lupin’s face the last time Harry asked the question; did so again.

“You're angry with me - I can see that - but you really do have it all wrong, Harry,” Lupin said placatingly. “I know you blame me for Sirius’ death, even if you think it accidental of me, but if I’d let you go… you’d have died too.”

“You could have grabbed him… you could have done something…” Harry argued, aggravated by Lupin’s lack of explanation.

“And what would you have had me do, Harry, to change the course of events?” Lupin asked. “To let you die as well as Sirius - would have achieved nothing.”

“But how do you know what’s through there? How do you know that going through the veil is certain death?” Harry insisted heatedly.

“I don’t,” Lupin said simply. “What I did see was the curse that hit him, Harry, and only you have ever survived that particular Unforgivable,” the words caused Remus pain but he continued, “he was dead before he hit the veil.”

“What?” said Harry confused, his face screwing up slightly.

“He was dead, but more than that, the veil is a one way thing, and there is no coming back from what’s beyond there.”

“Why? What is it?” Harry asked, becoming increasingly irritated with the lack of information in the answers he was getting.

“I believe it's a bridge, a crossing of sorts, an interconnection. If you listen to it, you can hear the echoes of things past, anyone who has been through it, has never returned. Not a place I could allow you to go to, Harry,” there was hollowness to Remus’ eyes as he spoke, as though something were echoing for him.

“But why can’t he come back?” Harry pushed.

“Because he is dead, Harry,” Lupin said patiently.

“Don’t give me that look.”

“What look?” said Remus, confused.

“That one. The one where you think I don’t understand,” said Harry sharply.

Lupin looked at Harry, silently exasperated. “Harry… I know you understand, but things aren't always black and white - nothing is simple.”

“Things are only complicated when you don’t know all the facts, I’m sick of not knowing what is happening, or what is to come. Why does everyone think I won’t understand?” Harry raised his voice hotly.

Remus watched Harry in his anger, and tried to think of an answer.

“That’s the exact look,” Harry stated waspishly, throwing himself back in his chair. “That’s what everyone looks like when they are trying to find another excuse for why I must be in the dark.“ Harry shook his head, working himself up further. “Why didn’t you mention the curse killing Sirius before, I mean, didn’t you think it was important enough to mention to me?”

“In all honesty, Harry, I thought you’d seen what I had seen, I didn’t realise until yesterday that you hadn't. I didn’t get the chance, until now, to set the facts straight,” Remus leant forward slightly on the table, looking directly into Harry's face. “I’m here now, Harry, answering your questions. I’ve never lied to you, you can ask me whatever you like, and I will always tell you the truth. Always.”

Harry regarded Lupin closely and seemed to take a moment to form his words carefully. He calmed visibly, and breathed slower.

“I envy you,” his words quietly spoken, rang out like a thunderclap.

Lupin blinked, like a rabbit caught in headlights, his arm stopped dead, paralysed on its way up - cup in hand, heading to his mouth. Whatever he had been expecting, it hadn't been that. He lowered his arm, his thoughts falling flat in his head, like a log plummeting off the precipice of a waterfall.

“You knew them, were friends with them. You loved them,” Harry stated, his voice low but full of emotion, he did not look at the still Lupin. “You loved them, and then lost them. I just lost them. I never knew them; I didn’t get the chance to be their son. But you… you got that chance, you were their friend, and I often wish that I could have known what that was like. That’s why I envy you, Remus, that’s why when I look at you, and I see your terrible pain, I see the depth of what I am missing, of what I have lost and never had. ”

Lupin looked at Harry’s face, his eyes were glassy, but he held his chin up high. There was maturity beneath the surface that had been growing for a while now, and although Harry was headstrong, arrogant, and downright pigheaded at times, there was something greater inside. Remus had always known that of course, in his mind, but he had never truly seen it until now.

“You're right, Harry, it's not fair that I had so much time with them, and if I thought it would help, I’d have freely given my life up for theirs, but that’s not the way things worked out.” Lupin raked his free hand through his hair, almost as if he were trying to free the thoughts in his head. “There is a reason memories fade with time, if they didn’t, we’d all go mad from the grief of our losses. The way we choose to remember those who have passed, show us who we truly are. It's not how we live without them, it's how we go on and live with their memory. If you choose to keep the pain fresh, then your grief will stay strong, and keep you weak.”

Harry nodded in silence; there were waves of barely hidden feeling rolling off him.

“I am sorry that you only see loss and pain when you look at me, but I do understand what you mean. For when I look at you, I see your parents in your eyes and face, in your gestures and your tone of voice, in your actions and beliefs. I see them in you as if they had been here all along, teaching you every step of the way, and perhaps they have. Those memories are never painful to me though, they would have been so proud of you, and everything you have achieved. There can be no grief in that, Harry, no pain hidden, just peace.”

Remus reached forward and laid his hand on Harry's forearm, squeezing it very slightly. “I am proud of all you have achieved, of what you have survived, and what I know you will continue to do. You have exceeded far beyond what I thought was possible for anyone, and I am glad I was here to see you do that.”

Harry watched as Remus’ arm retreated to its brother on the other side of the table. He felt exhausted, emotionally drained from the extremes of emotion that he had felt, but at Remus’ comforting touch, he had felt a connection, a link to what he had never known, and a bond to the resilient professor before him.

A surge of fresh guilt hit him, as he thought over the past conversation; he looked up at Remus - who had stood to fetch yet more tea – his eyes widening with regret. Harry went to open his mouth but was silenced by a small shake of Remus’ head, and a biscuit shoved in his general direction. ‘Perfect’, he thought. ‘Tea, biscuits, and confession.’

Harry's mind wandered for a moment and thought of the mirror of Erised, for the first time truly understood, why the images he had seen there would have been his eventual undoing.


A/N: I just wanted to apologise for the horrific wait; I know I am an awful updater, so I really hope that this chapter was worth waiting for. It has been something of a battle for me, I found it difficult. It became too long and I had to halve it.

For anyone wanting to get canon, I know that there is no factual evidence for what I have assumed about the prolonged use of the Imperious curse, it just seemed logical to me so I went with it (“,)

Thank you to my wonderful Beta Hells456 and to Fallen Auror who helped me with his endless support :)

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