Chapter Text
The house shook with each explosion from the explosives Pugsley was using, but to Harry, it felt like a distant promise. He listened to Grandma’s macabre and triumphant laughter as she brewed some successful potion that he was missing out on. Meanwhile, Wednesday was probably having a thrilling summer vacation filled with macabre and disturbing adventures, like any girl her age. But none of it was for him.
Harry gazed up at the living room ceiling and held the bouquet of white roses tightly to his chest. It took a monumental effort not to get up from the couch, but he had to follow his tragic duel to the letter. He needed to maintain a mortuary and adverse attitude, which meant staying completely still. It was his obligation to dedicate himself to his melancholy in order to send a loud and clear message of his abandonment and deep lack of love. If he got up, it would minimize the cosmic tragedy he was experiencing: not receiving a single letter from his friends. Despite promises made months ago, none of them had used the Floo Network to talk to him, which was undoubtedly a misfortune worthy of staying there. There was no justification for that abandonment!
Harry had confirmed hundreds of times how long it took for letters to cross from England to the United States (a week). And whether the Floo Network worked intercontinental (it did). So, there was no justification for the calamity he was experiencing. With a tragic sigh, Harry looked down at his bouquet of white flowers.
Theo and Millicent hadn’t contacted him, and neither had Draco. Tomorrow was his birthday, and he had not received a single response to the countless letters he had sent to his friends. How could he celebrate his 12 years of life when he was dying inside?
He seriously believed that he had made some kind of impact on Draco last year. But what if he had regretted being friends? What if his parents had convinced him that it wasn’t worth talking to the culprit about their boss ending up temporarily dead and then living on the back of another man’s head? Harry wanted to shake his head, but he didn’t want to ruin his comfortable burial position. He really needed to put those terrible ideas out of his mind. It wasn’t Harry’s fault that his sworn enemy ended up in such unfavorable situations.
“Sweetie? Are you still preparing to die of grief?” His mother asked from the entrance of the room. “Do you need something? Incense, perhaps?”
“What if Draco met someone else and doesn’t like me anymore?” Harry wailed aloud.
“Oh, but that is absolutely impossible! There is no kid more eccentric and wonderful than you,” his mother reminded him in a logical and firm tone. “Well? I’m not against your plans, but I need to know if you want us to watch over you tonight or stay the course with tomorrow’s party.”
“Leave me here, Mom,” Harry said, his voice heavy with despair. “Announce to the ravens that they can now devour my eyes and let my grave be prepared.” He gazed out of the window, his eyes fixated on the dreary sky. “There is nothing more poetic than dying the same day one is born.”
“I honestly don’t know if you look more like James or Sirius right now.”
Harry sat up abruptly, a wide smile spreading across his face. Since the holidays the year before, he hadn’t seen his Uncle Remus. He tossed the flowers onto the divan and launched himself at his uncle, embracing him in a tight hug that left Remus chuckling.
“Honey, be careful. Remember Remus just recovered from the full moon,” his mother cautioned, her voice sounding distant as Harry buried his face in his uncle’s chest.
“Leave him, Morticia,” Remus replied, stroking Harry’s chaotic hair. “There are no better hugs than those of your son.”
“In that, I cannot differ,” his mother said, her voice like a gentle breeze through the forest. “Besides, Harry has missed you like you have no idea. We all have missed you.”
Remus nodded, hugging Harry protectively. “And I have missed all of you,” he confessed. “I have developed the terrible habit of feeling this place as the one to which I must return. Who would say?”
“It’s your home,” both his mother and Harry said simultaneously, causing Remus to laugh.
The scent of nature and parchment filled the air, with the distinct aroma of coffee that always surrounded his uncle. But as Harry hugged him, all he could smell was the cologne that his father had bought for Remus. The softness of the shirt his uncle wore was comforting, and Harry wondered if it was the one his mother had sent for Christmas.
He hugged Remus tighter, resenting Dumbledore even more for taking him away so cruelly. Harry hated to bow down to others, but he knew that of all the things the man could do to control him, the one that would always work was the power he wielded over his uncle.
“Tell me, Harry, do you really plan to die in my sight?” Remus asked, his tone indignant.
“...no,” Harry admitted, lifting his face to meet his uncle’s gaze. “But I want it to be on the record that I will only live because I missed you so much.”
Remus looked exhausted, and Harry couldn’t help but wonder if he had been sleeping well. Had he been given a soft bed, cooked his favorite dishes, and enjoyed the comforts of home?
The old scars on Remus’s face were reddened, and his skin looked pale. What was Dumbledore getting him into? Harry couldn’t help but worry.
“Harry, you know we all love you,” said Remus, exchanging glances with his mother. When she nodded, he continued. “And the fact that Voldemort is back just means we’ll do everything we can to protect you. You know that, right?”
Harry winced. “If that means I won’t be able to see you, I’d rather you don’t protect me. At least not that much.”
His Uncle Remus laughed, in that way it was obvious Harry reminded him of someone, but he didn't want to say who. His mother put her hand on his uncle’s shoulder, gave it a last squeeze, and left them alone. She was probably off preparing for the big party that would be the next day. Harry supposed it wouldn’t be so bad to have a birthday instead of a funeral.
“Your father explained to me that you haven’t received letters from your friends,” Remus said, walking over to the divan and picking up the roses Harry had tossed into the air. “And that you’re especially sad because Draco Malfoy isn’t answering you.”
“Why do you say his name like it’s an insult and a joke at the same time?” Harry asked, amused.
His uncle laughed aloud and sat down on the divan, encouraging Harry to join him. “Because you seriously look like James grieving over a certain boy in Slytherin and the Black Family,” Remus answered.
“Is Draco a Black?” Harry tried to remember if he had read that in one of the books he had bought a year ago, but his memory was full of adventures at Hogwarts and a bit of learning done in class.
“Trust me, if someone from the British Wizarding World is incredibly, ridiculously attractive, it’s most likely a Black,” his uncle decreed.
At such wise words, Harry could only nod solemnly. “Then Draco is definitely a Black,” he concluded, then opened his eyes. “Was my godfather incredibly, but ridiculously attractive?”
His uncle’s cheeks turned crimson, and he looked away. Harry had barely seen a photo of Sirius Black, and it hadn’t been in the best of shape. People didn’t keep photographic memories of traitors and murderers. Although Harry still thought it was suspicious that someone who loved his parents so much would decide that the best course of action was to betray them. But he decided, like so many times, not to insist on the subject that was so delicate for his uncle.
“Did James love a Black? I didn’t know that” Harry ventured aloud, trying to change the subject.
“Yes, Sirius’s brother,” Remus stroked one of the roses distantly, probably drowning in memories. “They were together for a while, but...” His uncle’s shoulders slumped. “When Sirius was kicked out of the Black Family, Regulus rose as the new heir, and things eventually got messy. Like many things in life, it was gradual but inevitable. Regulus started keeping secrets and ended his relationship with James.”
“Have you talked to Regulus?” Harry asked, intrigued. “He’s my godfather’s brother and someone important to James. Maybe could I try to reach out to him?”
“No, boy. You can’t.” His uncle interrupted firmly. “One day he just disappeared, and shortly after, his family announced that Regulus had died. James, Peter, Sirius, and I sneaked out to his funeral. Sirius was destroyed. It was the first of many things in our lives that pushed him to take on more dangerous missions and be more careless with himself. James sank into a deep sadness…” Remus didn’t look up, his eyes clouded with the pains of the times that still haunted his soul. “On the day of Regulus’s funeral, we disguise ourselves. Do you know why? No one would have wanted us there. We were traitors and scum. But Sirius needed to say goodbye to his little brother. James seemed not to believe that Regulus was no longer alive. So, Peter and I couldn’t refuse, as dangerous as it all was. At the funeral, we heard whispers and cruel comments. Regulus apparently became a Death Eater shortly after ending his relationship with James. You can imagine that both your godfather and your father felt betrayed. James couldn’t believe it. Sirius boiled with fury...”
To Harry, this just showed that there was no point in his godfather being a Death Eater and a traitor. If Sirius was one too, then surely they would have known about each other’s involvement. It didn’t make the slightest sense that his godfather would be furious at learning information he should already know.
“How did he die?” Harry whispered. “Regulus Black, what happened to him?”
“We don’t know,” Remus replied, dropping his gaze to Harry’s. “The coffin was empty. Sirius believed that Voldemort sent someone to kill Regulus.”
That was so sad. The kind of deaths that a war left ruined the lives of so many.
“Listen to me, Harry,” Remus said, his voice low and serious. “It’s painful to love a Black.”
“But I think it might be worth it,” Harry said, shifting his feet. “What would Sirius be to Draco?”
“Sirius would be his uncle. Narcissa, Draco’s mother, is Sirius’s cousin,” Remus explained letting him change the subject.
Harry nodded, feeling a pang of sadness for both himself and Draco. Not only had he lost a godfather, but Draco had also lost parts of his family. The war had been devastating for so many people.
“Harry! Oh, my little one!”
Harry looked up to see his aunt Ophelia approaching him. She was his mother’s older sister and a spitting image of her, except for her long whitish-blonde hair that fell to her hips and the daisies that grew like a crown on her head.
Harry didn’t have time to react before his aunt swept him up in a classic judo move, launching him into the air. Fortunately, years of practice meant that he rolled on the floor before rising nimbly to his feet.
“Aunt!” Harry interjected when he saw her focusing all her attention on Remus. “Remember he doesn’t like it.”
“Oh yes, Morticia says that Remus is very precious. And that somehow implies that you have to be careful,” his aunt murmured between her fingers before turning her full attention to Harry. “Ah! Speaking of fragile and loved things, I’ve been told that your heart has been broken!”
Everyone could tell where Harry had gotten that dramatic side of him. Some would say it was inherited from his biological father or transcribed in some way from his godfather. But for Harry, the one who had taught him all the tricks was his Aunt Ophelia.
“Yes, in a thousand pieces,” he admitted. “My heart is scattered throughout the universe.”
“Oh, please,” Remus couldn’t contain his laughter. “You two shouldn’t get together when one is heartbroken. Frankly, I think it should be an approved and irrevocable law.”
“But Harry is going to die tomorrow from heartbreak!” Aunt Ophelia insisted. “Preparations must be made!”
“No, he’s not going to die of heartbreak,” his uncle answered slowly. “He’ll make a drama about it, but he won’t die. Not for love.”
“But—!” Harry and Aunt Ophelia insisted.
“But nothing. What I’m going to do is figure out why your friends’ letters aren’t coming through, and we’ll sort this out without funerals.” Remus rested his hands on his waist. “When we were in the third year, something similar happened to Sirius, and it turned out his family was interfering with our correspondence.”
“Oh…” Ophelia covered her mouth with her hands. “That’s so tragic!” She moved her fingers quickly. “How Machiavellian.”
“Do you think that’s it?” Harry asked, hope shining in his eyes.
“I don’t know, but I’m not going to find out if you die tomorrow from something so absurd as heartbreak.” Remus took a deep breath and looked at them. “So, no funerals.”
“Vigil?” Ophelia suggested.
“Funeral practice?” Harry suggested.
Remus looked at them, his eyes dancing from Ophelia’s innocent face to Harry’s mischievous one.
“I don’t know how this family does it, but sometimes I think I survived a war to now recreate my years at Hogwarts.” Remus took a deep breath. “How? I do not know. But it’s an admirable achievement on the part of the Addams, that’s for sure.”
“As flattering as ever.” Ophelia laughed heartily. “Magnificent, Remus!”
“But we can celebrate both. My birthday and a funeral for my poor heart.” Harry offered enthusiastically. “Everybody wins!”
“That sounds great!” Ophelia celebrated. “I’m lovin’ it.”
Remus shook his head and started to push Harry out of the room.
“No funerals.” His uncle ordered and pointed at Ophelia. “So, no funeral wreaths.”
“Oh, so unfair.” Ophelia wrinkled her nose. “You’re a very boring wolf, Mr. Lupin.”
“And you’re a terrible influence on a lovesick kid, my sweet Miss Frump,” Remus responded by playfully pushing Harry out of the room. “Nobody dies of a broken heart.”
“Oh, don’t say that, my dear Remus,” Gomez ordered, descending the staircase. “There are so many ways to die, but for love is definitely the most interesting.”
“Instead of encouraging Harry to be all dramatic...”
Harry locked eyes with his father and scrambled out of his uncle’s arms just in time for Gomez to stop in front of the other man.
“It's not being dramatic, it's having a good reason to die,"” Gomez said as he cupped Remus's chin for a moment. “For example, if I may say so, it would be a pleasure to die for you, my dear Remus.”
Harry suppressed a laugh and took advantage of his uncle's complaints to climb the stairs two at a time, wondering what could distract him now that he couldn't mourn his tragedy. But his Uncle Remus was right. Something must be happening if the letters from his friends weren’t reaching him. Harry knew Theodore and Millicent wouldn’t let him down, even if their families didn’t support their friendship with him. Theo was clever and Millicent was unpredictable. Nothing, not even their families, could break their bond. His real concern was that Draco had truly decided Harry wasn’t worth keeping around.
The lights flickered, sparking Harry’s curiosity. Wednesday must have been playing with Pugsley using electrical currents. After all, Pugsley was the most inventive of the three and knew how to handle electricity much better than Wednesday and Harry, who, due to their magic, tended to interfere with electronic devices if their emotions were intense enough.
In Wednesday's case, the flickering lights meant she was about to torture someone.
Considering that people were coming to their home that day for Harry’s birthday party, he wondered who had ended up in his older sister’s clutches. And, of course, the only way to find out was to investigate. So, Harry headed up to the attic of the house with renewed curiosity. He sidestepped Thing, who was dragging some ropes toward the kitchen. Everyone was busy with Harry’s birthday, and he had been banned from the kitchen after accidentally dropping a frying pan on his head.
“Harry!” his grandmother’s voice boomed from beneath the stairs. “Don’t you want to eat something? I just made my famous stew. Ophelia and Remus are joining us. Would you like to come too?”
Harry leaned against the railing, a smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. He loved his family and their close-knit bonds. But when it came to birthdays, they all competed for attention like a pack of ravenous wolves.
“Grandmama, I already had that exotic fruit salad sweetened with concentrated shrimp poison.”
“That’s because you were planning your funeral, dear,” his grandmother replied. “But now that you’ve changed your plans, you need to eat and have energy for tomorrow’s party.”
Harry chuckled. “Can’t I just disappear into my room for a while?”
Even in his moments of tragic suffering, his family hadn’t allowed him to be isolated. His grandmother had insisted he stayed close, so Harry had spent most of his time in the living room, where everyone could visit him. That was until his uncle Remus arrived.
The lights flickered, and a scurrying sound echoed from the attic before a dull thud silenced everything.
“Later?” Harry asked, looking up at the ceiling.
“Oh, just go, you little imp,” his grandmother laughed. “Go on and satisfy your thirst for mischief before your hunger. Off you go!”
Harry grinned and sprinted up the stairs, hoping to avoid any distractions. When he reached the attic door, he felt a powerful surge of magic radiating from within. He could sense his sister’s protection spells, which were not meant to keep anyone out but to keep something inside.
Something was fleeing from Wednesday, running back and forth across the room in a blur of movement. Harry’s curiosity got the better of him, and he pushed open the door, quickly entering and shutting it behind him. If his sister had gone to all this trouble to capture something, it must be important.
What he saw was both familiar and bizarre. Wednesday was standing in the middle of her torture machines, wand at the ready. She looked around and raised her eyebrows when she noticed Harry’s presence.
“You’re going to ruin your birthday surprise,” Wednesday scolded Harry as he walked towards her.
“Oh, should I leave?” Harry asked, letting his shoulders slump. “It sounded like fun, what you’re doing here.”
“Very well, you can stay. It will be an early gift,” Wednesday said, continuing to search with her eyes. “I found the source of your problems, and I was going to give it to you, but it keeps moving and hiding.”
And suddenly, something with huge green eyes appeared right in front of Harry’s face. He couldn’t see exactly who or what it was because tiny arms latched onto the neck of his shirt and whatever had appeared in front of him climbed up onto his shoulder and slung onto his back.
“Harry Potter! Harry Potter must save Dobby from that Dark Witch! You must save Dobby!” The creature exclaimed in a high-pitched voice.
He and Wednesday exchanged glances as the curious creature wriggled around Harry’s back, whispering «dark witch» over and over again.
“Well, whatever is the source of my problems knows how to flatter you,” Harry told his sister with a lopsided grin.