Chapter 8
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ADHARA HEARD HARRY TRUDGE DOWN THE STAIRS, BEHIND HERSELF AND MILLIE.

"It's just that — Millie. Are you sure?"

Adhara didn't see what was so difficult to understand. It was perfectly understandable, really. She swerved around, arms crossed.

"Harry, drop it."

Harry didn't even so much as look at her. "It's just — prefect is a big deal, you know. Are you sure you don't want it? You saw how happy Hermione and Ron were."

And how disappointed you were, Adhara didn't say.

Millicent simply shrugged, flipping her blue hair back. "As sure as I was when I sent the badge back to Hogwarts. I don't want to be prefect. It's too much work."

Apparently, the girl had received her badge the same day as Ron and Mione did, and had elected not to tell anyone. Didn't want to steal anyone's thunder, she said. Adhara knew it was because Hermione would never let her live it down if she ever found that Millie turned down the offer to be prefect.

She wasn't even planning on telling Adhara. She and Harry just happen to walk in on the girl sending her letter back. And perhaps that was the reason behind Adhara's foul mood, but she wasn't going to admit that.

Harry made a confused face. "But so is being Madam Pomfrey's apprentice?"

"That is actually enjoyable. Not looking out for who's following the rules and who isn't. I barely follow any rules." She turned to Harry fully. "And I'm good at the Hospital Wing, so I don't care about the rest."

"Oh..."

Adhara raised a brow. She paused on the steps, watching Millie climb further down. Harry stood beside her.

"We all got our own things, haven't we? You got quidditch, I have healing magic, and Adhara's got her journalism. What more do we need?"

Harry didn't respond, so Adhara elbowed him. He yelped, glaring at her. She smirked, intending to walk away, but her brother put his foot in front of her, tripping her.

Millie shook her head from the landing. "Now, if you both are done acting like children, I'd appreciate it if you kept this to yourself? I don't need Hermione fussing over me. Even more so—"

A muffled sound caught them off guard. Glancing at each other, the three silently neared the drawing room, where the sound was coming from — like someone was crying, but didn't want to be caught.

Ears pressed against the door, they noticed that the sobbing persisted. Not wasting another second, Harry flung open the door and froze in place.

"Haz," she said quietly. "Wha—"

Beside her, she heard Millie gasp at the sight. There, on the old carpet, laid the limp body of Ron Weasley, on his stomach with his arms splayed out. His eyes stared at them, vacantly.

From somewhere else within the room, Adhara heard a soft and trembling voice.

"R—r — riddiculus!"

A cracking sound. Ron's body shifted, the flock of red hair got longer, the jaw turned more square, though the nose and the eyes remained somewhat similar. Bill Weasley's body had replaced Ron's.

"Ri — riddiculus!"

Adhara turned towards the voice and saw Molly Weasley's sobbing figure pointing a wand at her sons' dead bodies.

Another crack, another spell thrown again. The twins, Percy and then...Harry.

"Mrs. Weasley, just get out of there!" cried Harry.

Millie got into action quickly, when she realised what was happening. She approached the crying woman, shielding her from the boggart and held her arms.

Adhara was frozen, eyes stuck on her brother's dead body. Sensing her trouble, the very boy slid his hand into hers, giving it a squeeze.

"Let someone else—"

"What's going on?"

Adhara looked away, breathing out. She released Harry's hand, slowly approaching Mrs. Weasley, who had her head nestled in Millie's stomach, crying.

Behind her, she could hear Remus throwing a Riddiculus at the boggart, she could hear Sirius and Moody's voices.

Adhara kneeled beside Mrs. Weasley.

"Let's take deep breaths together, shall we, Mrs. Weasley?"

Surprisingly, despite her usual indifference towards the girl, Mrs. Weasley followed Millie's instructions without complaint.

"It's normally only in dreams, you know?"

And for some reason, Adhara felt like she had been punched in the gut. That sticky, hot feeling on her skin came back, and her hands felt itchy.

She knew — well, she had an idea of what Voldemort's return entailed. Though, it was just that, wasn't it — just an idea. Seeing it in real life, seeing Harry's dead body in real life felt like a wake up call.

Adhara wasn't daft. She understood from the very beginning why Molly Weasley didn't want her children involved in the war, it just made sense. Why would she want to throw her kids into something that just might kill them? It was the logical thing to do.

"Molly—"

"Don't tell Arthur." Her breathing was better. She looked at Remus dead in the eye. "I don't want him to worry."

But Molly Weasley wasn't relying on logic. In fact, it was quite possible that she wasn't even thinking. Because she wasn't making decisions based on logic, she was making them based on experience.

"Oh, Harry. I'm sorry. What must you think of me, not even able to defeat my own boggart—"

"Don't be stupid."

Harry was still at the doorway. Adhara turned and saw Sirius was there, too, eyes still trained on the spot where laid Harry's corpse only moments ago.

He glanced towards Adhara, suddenly making eye contact, and for a second, they both understood each other.

━━━

Later, after looking for Harry who had suddenly disappeared from the scene, Adhara found Mrs. Weasley in the kitchen, nursing a steaming cup of tea.

For the first time, when the woman saw her, she gave her a smile that wasn't strained.

"A cuppa?"

Adhara found herself unable to refuse. She settled into a chair, her cup in hand.

"I think I owe you an apology."

Adhara stilled.

"I let my prejudice get in the way of a very simple matter, that you are just children." She looked at Adhara with such a sad smile that it unsettled her. "Though, I've underestimated you all in that matter as well, haven't I?"

The back door, the one leading to the garden was open, letting in a breeze into the kitchen. It was nice and cooling.

"I forget, it seems, that just because you are children, it doesn't mean you haven't had battles of your own." Her voice had become tight. "As a mother, it's difficult to understand how a mother could hurt their own kids."

"...you heard about the Dursleys," Adhara deduced.

"Yes, I have."

Adhara didn't ask when or how she came across that information. It wasn't important.

"Petunia wasn't his parent."

"She might as well have been. And she failed at the task tremendously. That applies to Hallewell, too."

Adhara didn't expect that. Nonetheless, she kept any reactions at bay, sipping on her tea. Though, perhaps her grip on her cup was a tad too tight.

"At the trial, dear, I—" Mrs. Weasley drew out a long breath. "I thought keeping you all ignorant would keep you safe from this wretched world. It seems I failed to see that you've been exposed to it already."

"I don't blame you for trying," said Adhara. Because she really doesn't. It was more than anyone has ever done in their lives.

Mrs. Weasley looked taken aback by the comment. She smiled at her, eyes misty.

A comfortable silence settled. The cooling breeze soothed Adhara. She quietly enjoyed her cup of tea.

━━━━

Harry locked himself in his room for the remainder of the day, a photograph of his parents in one hand, the other one rubbing his scar, trying to soothe the string but failing. He went to bed with a ball of anxiety in his gut, weighing him down.

The next day, he still felt the same. No nightmares about Cedric, but weird fleeting images and Voldemort's laugh haunted him until early morning.

Harry still felt rattled at midday, when they apparated in forest in Wales. The surroundings were heavily warded, of course, and they entrusted Tonks, Mr. Weasley, Bill and Remus to stand guard.

The excessiveness only worked to worsen Harry's mood.

He kicked onto the shovel several times forcefully, taking his anger out on the object as he tried to dig.

"Careful, Harry!"

They were in private properly, he had realised. Sirius bought out the part of the land for Remus' transformations, unbeknownst to the man, and thought it would be the perfect location to bury all the elf heads.

When Adhara first saw them when they arrived at Grimmauld, she froze completely. She looked like she was about to sob, or scream. Or both. Sirius took one look at her reaction and banished them away. They had to wait until now to bury them all.

Adhara was with the man right now, as he dug a six-feet deep grave. They were in charge of Kreacher's mother's head. Adhara watched her uncle dig as she held onto Kreacher's hand tightly. The elf — though, looking relieved — had been quiet this entire time.

"It's a good thing that we're doing this," commented Hermione. She was helping Harry with another elf's head — she also looked like she wanted to cry — while Ron was with one of his brothers. Ginny and Roisin were together, while Mrs. Weasley overlooked them.

"It'll help Adhara feel better."

Harry gritted his teeth. "I know something else that would help Adhara feel better."

"I need my wand for that, Harry."

"I've got mine."

"We need both. We've talked about this already."

Harry grumbled. Mrs. Weasley hadn't taken his wand, not after Adhara's reaction at the notion. But she did take everyone else's.

He dropped his shovel. "She shouldn't have taken them in the first place," he declared loudly.

Hermione shushed him. She glanced towards Mrs. Weasley, who wasn't that far away from them and would definitely hear Harry if he spoke any louder. The woman turned their way at Harry's voice and didn't seem to have heard what he said. Hermione awkwardly smiled at her, then turned to Harry with a stern expression.

"Harry, you need to calm down."

"I am calm."

"You've been agitated since yesterday. Is this...is this about Ron and I being prefect? Cause then—"

"Not everything's about you and Ron, Hermione!"

Hermione closed her mouth shut, making Harry sigh.

"Sorry, I...I just don't see the point of her taking our wands." He was still grumbling, voice still a tad bit too loud. He could feel people's stare on him.

"She was just trying to protect us."

"Our wands are our protection!"

Someone coughed. Harry looked around and saw that everyone was looking at him, Ron, his siblings, Adhara and even Sirius. Mrs. Weasley, too.

Harry pressed his lips together, jaw still tense. He picked up his shovel and started to dig again, this time without a single word.

━━━

The next day, Mrs. Weasley approached Harry, Ron and Hermione as they were cleaning out a closet near the master bedroom with Hermione.

"Is everything alright, Harry?" asked Ron.

"Fine."

He was like this since the incident with Mrs. Weasley's boggart. Quiet, agitated, responding in one syllable or one word. It piqued his friends' attention, but Harry was in no mood to talk.

Hermione clearly didn't believe him, but knew not to pry.

"There you both are!" Mrs. Weasley trudged towards them, looking bright.  "I've been looking for you,"  She handed Hermione her wand. "Here you go, in giving them all back."

Hermione beamed. "Oh! Thank you!"

"No worries." She was smiling, eyes crinkling in the corners. She gave Ron his, who practically howled in joy, then turned to Harry.  "You have yours on you, don't you Harry?"

He patted his back pocket awkwardly, nodding. He couldn't meet the woman's eyes, feeling guilty about his words yesterday.

Mrs. Weasley placed a hand on Harry's shoulder, consoling, almost like she was saying it was fine. "Recent events made me rethink my decision of taking them away."

"Recent events?" Hermione peaked at Harry surreptitiously.

The woman nodded. She said firmly, while patting Harry's shoulder. "Adhara's trial being one of them."

Ron looked at her in shock, exchanging a look with Hermione.

"Right. Well. Continue with the great work. I've still got to find the twins."

With the woman gone, Harry wasted no time in turning towards Hermione.

"Now?"

Hermione looked hesitant. The trace didn't reach Grimmauld, so that wasn't the problem. "You want to do it right away? She just returned our wands, what if she takes them away again?"

Ron turned between them. "What are you two talking about?"

Harry waved him off. "The quicker the better. And think she'll understand."

Hermione chewed on her bottom lip, looking at Harry's earnest expression. She let out a breath, finally declaring: "It's for Adhara and Sirius."

"Right."

━━━━

Harry marched down to the entrance hall, followed by Hermione. Ron was at their tow, curious as to what they were up to.

"What are you two going to do?" he practically demanded, voice in a whisper. He didn't want to garner attention, apparently, but his efforts will be useless in only a bit.

Walburga Black's portrait was stuck onto the wall with a permanent sticking charm, so it wasn't possible to remove the portrait from the wall.

Though, no one said anything about removing the wall.

Harry opened the curtains that muffled the terrible woman's voice. She glared, baring her teeth when her eyes fell on the trio.

"Ready, Hermione?"

The girl nodded. Ignoring the insults Walburga Black was directing towards her, Hermione directed her wand to the wall and Harry.

"Protego totalum." A spell usually used to shield a certain area, Hermione figured it could also keep things in. Harry wasn't able to conjure the charm properly, it didn't sustain. Hermione had no problem.

She looked at Harry. "Be careful."

And Harry had to be. Because he was inside the shielded area along with the portrait and the wall. Although, he didn't care much.

Walburga Black was spewing bullshit, as usual. Harry braced an arm over his face, and pointed at the wall.

"Bombarda!"

The shield charm would keep any sounds inside the protected area, but with the way Ron had reacted, he attracted the attention of the entire household. Well, at least, his scream got his parents attention, and then Mrs. Weasley's scream for everyone else's.

Harry had backed into the corner, shielding himself with his arms. When he pulled away, he saw Sirius and Remus in the corridor, looking alarmed. Everyone else was there. Adhara was there, too, looking at the rubbles of the wall, confused. Then her eyes landed on the fallen portrait.

Hermione dropped the shield charm. Harry stepped away from the portrait for a moment,  then asked Adhara to look away.

"Why?"

"Just do it."

"No."

"Adz, please?"

His sister's eyes flickered to Hermione for a second, who nodded. Adhara rolled her eyes, then turned around.

Harry turned to Hermione again, who understood what he was trying to say and dragged Ron a few steps away from the portrait. Harry then got closer to the portrait on the floor again, wand still directed towards it. It was still stuck to a slab of wall.

"YOU FILTHY HALF-BLOOD—"

"He was, too, you know?" said Harry, cutting off Walburga Black.

"What?"

"Voldemort. He was also a half-blood."

Harry watched as the woman's eyes widened in disbelief, then muttered: "Incendio."

Adhara wasn't looking at the fire, but she definitely heard Harry cast the spell. And she could definitely see the light from the flames illuminate the entrance hall.

But she didn't even react. Harry, on the other hand, stared at the fire. It wouldn't destroy the portrait completely but it did send a message to the vile woman.

Now all they had to do was figure out a way to transport the portrait away from here.

━━━

Strangely enough, the incident with the portrait didn't help to improve Harry's mood. The wall between the entrance hall and the drawing room was now, well, gone, along with the portrait — which Sirius decided to bury deep in the garden — but Harry could still feel the remnants of anger in his chest. His foul mood followed him all day. And, in the evening, after the Order meeting, when he watched Dumbledore walk away again without paying any mind to him, Harry decided to follow him.

Forgetting about being polite, Harry dashed past the man, standing in front of him and the fireplace.

"Evening, Headmaster."

"Harry, I—"

"You've been avoiding me all summer. In fact, you've been avoiding me since Cedric's death," Harry said directly.

He had garnered attention by now. Mr. Weasley was in the room with them, eyes flickering between Harry and Dumbledore, unsure who's side to take. 

The man had noticed, of course, of Dumbledore's quick departures after meetings, of the way he practically fled away from Harry. They all have. No one has dared to comment on it thus far.

Harry met the professor's eyes, jaw set in determination.

His thoughts have been all over the place lately, multiple worries weighing him down. Having the man who Harry all but admired ignore him during his time of need made matters much worse.

At least, he thought he admired him. Harry was beginning to doubt himself more and more these days.

Harry wasn't sure why Voldemort was after him, only that he was. Maybe it was arrogance, maybe it was something else. He had a feeling Dumbledore knew, there was something he wasn't telling them.

"There's something that you know, Professor. Something you aren't telling any of us. What is it?"

Because it was odd. The way Dumbledore was ignoring him. Since Harry started Hogwarts, the man has kept a close eye on him. Finding him at times Harry least expected it, telling him exactly what he needed to know to fight Voldemort that year, although remaining quite cryptid. The man's sudden absence from Harry's life was strange to say the least.

Dumbledore sighed. He looked worn out, like he had lost days to his life. "I'm sorry my boy, but I really cannot tell you."

Harry almost flinched.

And that was it, wasn't it? When has Dumbledore been there for him, other than when he needed Harry to defeat Voldemort. He has practically abandoned Harry at the Dursleys when his parents died. Even after Harry's constant requests to stay away from them, Dumbledore still refused every summer.

At the time, Harry wanted to give the man the benefit of the doubt. Perhaps, he simply did not know. Perhaps, the words of an eleven-year old boy sounded too overexaggerated.

He knew now that wasn't the case, with how insistent the man still was despite Sirius and Remus' assurance that Harry was better off with the both of them.

Albus Dumbledore cared about the war. He cared about defeating Voldemort. He did not care about Harry.

And Harry...despite being angry with the man, despite being frustrated with himself for not realising this sooner, he couldn't bring himself to hate the man.

Harry looked at the man, he looked at the deep bags under his eyes, the slumped shoulders. Harry thought about the album Sirius showed him, the photographs of all those who passed, of all of those who survived and had to watch those close to them die. He wondered how many Dumbledore had seen himself.

Harry stepped away from the fireplace, letting the man go. Harry didn't look at him, he didn't watch him go. Harry walked out of the room before he even took a step towards the fireplace.

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A/N

Walburga Black's portrait: insults Adhara

Harry: ...

Harry: burns it