Chapter Text
Boy-Who-Lived Mysteriously Absent from Battle of Hogwarts Memorial
by Rita Skeeter
Picture this: a war-torn castle restored to its former glory, standing taller and braver than ever to honor those who valiantly gave their lives defending it. Standing on the peaceful grounds, it seems unimaginable to recall the devastation and bloodshed that occurred just one year ago today. Now, picture a crowd of hundreds congregating at the Black Lake, preparing to send enchanted candles out onto the water in memory of each of the fallen wixen. They wait solemnly for the arrival of the honored guest who has been promised to make a speech commemorating the defeat of He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named. I am referring, of course, to none other than our darling Harry Potter.
Mr. Potter has spent the past year in rigorous Auror training alongside fellow war hero Ronald Weasley. He has also worked tirelessly with Minister Shacklebolt to advocate for reform in the treatment of magical creatures and give protection to Muggleborn wixen. More controversially, he presented himself as a key witness in the trials of Draco Malfoy, Narcissa Malfoy, and Severus Snape, offering testimony on their behalf that spared them from potential life sentences in Azkaban. Mr. Potter, ever tight-lipped with the press, has evaded cameras and declined to comment at every public appearance he has made over the past year—even when approached by this very reporter, with whom he shares a friendly personal camaraderie. Perhaps his standoffishness can be attributed to stress, fatigue, or his unlucky love life; in a shocking twist, Mr. Potter’s ex-flame, Ms. Ginevra Weasley of the Holyhead Harpies, has recently been romantically linked to Ms. Luna Lovegood, a wand-making trainee at Ollivander’s. Needless to say, young Mr. Potter has quite a lot on his plate.
Mr. Potter’s appearance at the Battle of Hogwarts Memorial was highly anticipated, especially since he was tasked with unveiling a statue that had been erected to honor our valiant dead. Yet as the minutes passed, it became increasingly apparent that Mr. Potter would not be in attendance. Mutters of discontent rose from the crowd, and chants of “We want Harry” were shouted when Headmistress Minerva McGonagall finally received word via owl that Mr. Potter would not be coming. The headmistress hastily called forward freshly graduated Head Girl Ms. Hermione Granger to give an impromptu speech in Mr. Potter’s place. The always verbose Ms. Granger delivered a moving tribute to her fallen wixen-in-arms and called for unity among the Wizarding community to ensure continued peace and a brighter future. She then called forward her beau, Mr. Ronald Weasley, to help her unveil the statue. It was truly a marvel to behold: at the sight of the gleaming golden phoenix rising from silver flames, much of the crowd began to weep, including this reporter herself. The ceremony then continued as planned, and the candlelight memorial was nothing short of breathtaking. Still, the nagging question remains: where is Harry Potter?
When pressed about Mr. Potter’s whereabouts at the evening’s conclusion, Headmistress Minerva McGonagall stated that it was “quite frankly none of (my) business” and invited me to take my inquiries elsewhere. The sentiment was echoed by the fiercely loyal Ms. Granger and Mr. Weasley, who have never been more protective of their friend than in the past year. It must be noted, however, that after being pulled aside by the headmistress for a brief conversation, Granger and Weasley appeared visibly distressed and hurried to exit the grounds. To the average bystander, this may seem innocuous, but I cannot help but wonder whether this hasty departure hints at something deeper—is all truly well with our beloved boy hero? Keep your ears to the ground, dear readers, and let us hope that Harry Potter re-emerges soon.
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“‘Friendly personal camaraderie’ my arse,” said Harry bitterly, tossing the newspaper aside. “Leave it to her to take a shot at Ginny for no bloody reason. And would it kill her to quote just one line of Hermione’s speech? I’m sure she was amazing. Much better than I would have been.”
“I can try to get you a transcript, if you’d like,” said Remus gently. “But I don’t think you need to worry yourself with the news right now. It can all wait.”
Harry frowned and sat up in the hospital bed, ignoring the rush of dizziness the movement brought.
“Wait for what?” he asked.
“Wait for you to feel better,” said Remus in that same quiet tone. “I think the last thing you need is to get caught up in what the papers are saying. You need space to heal.”
Harry’s frown deepened. “I’m already healed, aren’t I? The potion’s out of my system. I should be good to head out in a few hours. Then I can go to McGonagall and apologize.”
Remus leaned forward and squeezed Harry’s hand. He took a slow inhale, as if steadying himself. His deep green magic was flaring with anxiety, and Harry nearly had to close his eyes to keep from getting a headache. As always, he could taste the rainy earth in Remus’ magical signature, could smell the spring forest—but there was something new there, too, an undercurrent of something sharp and wild. Like adrenaline after running for your life.
“Harry,” said Remus, “nobody is upset with you for missing the ceremony. But the Healers are very concerned. When you were unconscious, they ran a scanning charm and removed the glamours on your arms. Legs, too. Do you need me to tell you what they found?”
Harry froze. He jerked away from Remus and recoiled, slamming his back into the metal bedframe. The long, loose sleeves of his hospital pajamas were already covering his arms, but Harry yanked them down even further, clenching his fists around the soft cotton. Remus raised his hands as if approaching a frightened animal. His magic swayed forward and back, unsure whether to embrace Harry or let him breathe.
“It’s alright,” he said. “It’s all going to be okay. But we have to talk about this.”
“It was an accident,” Harry protested weakly.
“What was an accident? The cuts? I don’t think I believe that, Harry.”
Harry scrambled to think of a reasonable explanation and came up empty. He was halfway through formulating a story about falling onto his razor blade when Remus began speaking again.
“I don’t think the Calming Draught was an accident either. You nearly drank the whole bottle. That’s almost twenty times your normal dosage.”
“It wasn’t working!” Harry’s eyes stung, and he pressed his hands against them, willing back the sudden rush of tears. “I took my normal dose, but I just kept panicking and panicking and I thought—I thought I just—“
“I thought you were dead, Harry,” said Remus. His voice trembled. “You weren’t breathing. And now I find out you’ve been hurting yourself for months, maybe even longer, and you want me to pass this off as an accident?”
“I’m sorry,” Harry whispered, scrubbing furiously at his face. “I’m so sorry that you had to find me like that. But I couldn’t go back there and see all those people and—and do that speech like some kind of hero, because I’m not and I—I just needed it to stop. I needed to calm down, and it just—I took it too far. I didn’t mean to. I’m sorry, Remus. I really am.”
“You’ve nothing to apologize for,” said Remus, looking Harry steadily in the eyes. “I’m not angry at all—not one bit. I just want you to be safe and healthy. Ron and Hermione were here while you were asleep, and I got the chance to talk with them. It’s obvious to all of us that you’ve not been taking care of yourself, Harry. You’re malnourished, you’re overworked, and you’re turning all your pain inward. You shouldn’t have to live like that. The Healers have decided to transfer you to the Janus Thickney ward for the time being. They’ll bring in a Mind Healer to work with you.”
Harry’s chest was collapsing in on itself. He shook his head, letting the tears spill freely now. He tried to speak, but his throat constricted painfully and only allowed him to let out frantic, shallow gasps. Remus took his hand again, and this time Harry clung to it like a lifeline. He was furious, and all he wanted was to scream at Remus and shove him away, tell him to leave him alone and never come back. But when Harry was consumed by pure fear like this, he couldn’t help but cave to any scrap of comfort being offered.
“Harry,” Remus continued, so gently it was painful, “you’re the most selfless person I’ve ever met. All you’ve ever done is help everyone you can. Don’t you think it’s time you accepted some help in return?”