Harry Potter - Series Fan Fiction ❯ The Best of Me ❯ Chapter 2 ( Chapter 2 )

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When I woke in the morning, sunlight was streaming through the tall windows and spilling across the bare pine boards of my room. The golden light danced on the walls, illuminating the dust motes swirling in the air. I could hear everything that was happening in the street—cars starting, children’s laughter echoing, my neighbours exchanging their morning chatter. It felt like the world was alive, pulsing with energy, as if it were aware of the adventure that lay ahead.

I blinked a few times, pushing the drowsiness from my mind. I swung my legs over the side of the bed and sat in the silence for a moment. My gaze wandered around the room, settling on a few Quidditch posters that plastered my wall. An owl inside its ornate cage perched atop my desk. Her glossy feathers shimmered under the morning light.

I stood up, gathering momentum as I ambled toward my open trunk. Clothes lay strewn carelessly over my assorted collection of quills, potions, books, and the various knickknacks that I could find. I shoved aside some clothes to wear.

My limbs felt weighted with sleep, but the tantalising aroma of breakfast urged me forward. With each step down the creaking stairs, I felt the comforting wrap of home settle around me. The old cottage we inhabited was hardly grand, but it was ours.

In the kitchen, I was met by the inviting smell of toast and tea. The sight of Remus made me feel warm inside. “Good afternoon, Harry,” he said jokingly, handing me a steaming mug of tea. I took a tentative sip, letting the warmth soothe the remnants of sleep from my bones. It had a hint of chamomile with just the right amount of honey—a comfort that made my heart swell.

”What’ll it be—toast… scrambled eggs?”

“Eggs, please,” I replied, watching as he juggled bread and eggs in a jovial dance. Remus had a way of turning the mundane into something magical, which I appreciated now more than ever.

While he cooked, I leaned against the counter, gazing out the window.

“You seem awfully quiet today,” Remus remarked, glancing over his shoulder as he whisked the eggs. “Something on your mind?”

“It’s nothing,” I replied casually and hesitated before adding, “just a bad dream.” The moment the words slipped from my lips, I could feel the weight of them hanging awkwardly in the air between us.

I saw him stiffen slightly, his brown eyes narrowing as they studied me. “I wouldn’t call that nothing,” he said, his voice steady yet laced with concern. He lifted my chin with the tip of his finger, frowning slightly as he searched for something in my expression. I wanted to look away, to hide the turmoil swirling within me, but it was as if he could peel back the layers of my heart and see all the dark corners where my worries lurked.

“I’m sorry, Harry,” Remus counselled in his now-familiar tone. “I know it must be hard for you, but we’re only here temporarily, and sooner or later we will have to leave…” His words hung in the air, blending with the cool breeze that whispered through the open window.

With every new place, every fleeting glimpse of a so-called home, I found it increasingly harder to adjust.

The light in the morning barely caught the deep lines etched into Remus’s face, the pale skin that hinted at his restless nights and the shadow of too many worries. I wanted to tell him it was okay, that I understood, but the lump in my throat made it impossible. Instead, I just nodded.

Seeing my forlorn look made him stop short. When he continued, it was in a lighter voice. “Well, there’s plenty of time before that happens, so we can discuss it later.”

“Later.” I repeated the word like a spell, hoping it could somehow summon the comfort I craved.

The truth was, moving with Remus was essential for my safety, though the burden of that truth felt heavier with each transient life chapter. His struggle, his battle against lycanthropy, was an ever-present spectre, haunting our every minute. He was my guardian, a role that seemed almost foolhardy. Could he really keep me safe when he struggled against the very nature of himself? 

I stole a glance at him, taking in his faded brown pants and loose white shirt that hung on him. There was something beautiful about his battle-worn appearance—a testament to the countless challenges he'd faced.

I, on the other hand, was fine-boned and fairly average in height. I had bright green eyes that were often hidden behind round glasses. And while I admired the gleam of emerald, I often cursed my poor eyesight that forced me to rely on the frames, which were as much a part of me as my jet-black hair, perpetually untidy.

But as I studied Remus’s greying hair and the haunted look in his eyes, my heart twisted into knots.

For the longest time, I had tried to push the worries aside. I had my own responsibilities in this world, but how could I protect him when he was so determined to protect me?

Remus crossed to the sink holding his plate and disposed of his half-eaten toast. He stretched out on the window seat, the Daily Prophet open in front of him.

”What’s new?" I asked.

In reply, he held up the front page for me to see. I read the headlines—dark marks, murders, disasters. It felt like a riddle I couldn’t quite solve.

”Muggles don’t feel safe anymore,” Remus said with a sigh.

”What can we possibly do for them?” I asked hesitantly. “We sit here in this cottage with our books and our spells while people are out there fighting for their lives.”

Remus turned his gaze from the page to me, his amber eyes reflecting the hardness of the world outside those four walls. “Your path is already laid out before you, even if you can’t see it yet.”

My mind raced back to the countless nights I spent grappling with my own destiny. The weight of prophecy, my past, it all felt like a heavy cloak I couldn't shake off. I could hear the whispers of my insecurities echoing through the air, each one reminding me of how small I felt in the grand tapestry of things.

“They’re scared,” I said quietly. “And we’re just here. Watching.”

“Fear can be a powerful thing,” Remus replied, folding the paper and setting it beside him. “But it can also lead to hope. You’ve seen it yourself, Harry. Look at the people who stood beside you, those brave enough to fight back against it. You inspire them.”

I felt a flicker of warmth in my chest, but it was quickly extinguished by the memory of countless lives lost. I took a deep breath.

“There’s got to be something we can do,” I insisted. “Anything.”

Remus smiled softly, but there was a hint of melancholy in his expression. “Perhaps. But remember that changing a world starts with learning to change yourself.”

I locked my gaze onto the window, where trees danced wildly in the breeze. Remus continued, “Focus on mastering your magic. Work on becoming the hero you need to be before you can help those who need it most.”

A flicker of defiance struck me. “You really think so?”

“Yes,” he said, his voice steady and calm. “But take it one step at a time. Today, work on that spell I had shown you. Tomorrow, we’ll decide on the next step together. One foot in front of the other, Harry.”

As we began to assimilate into the life of the village, the muggles couldn’t help but wonder what we were doing in a sleepy town like Ottery St Catchpole. Sometimes they thought we were tourists on an extended stay, our peculiar habits drawing curious glances and whispers at the village market. No one guessed that we were hiding from Voldemort and his Death Eaters, who were so eager to track us down and kill us. I knew the situation was dire, but I was certain that we couldn’t fail.

Ottery St Catchpole was a breathtaking place. As I strolled through its narrow, cobbled streets, I took in the modest weatherboard cottages, their thatched roofs adorned with vibrant patches of flowering vines that climbed their human-made walls. From our house, we could see pastoral scenes of undulating hills with grazing cows and windmills spinning lazily under the sun. The air was thick with the scent of fresh hay and blooming daisies, and the soothing sound of chirping birds filled the gentle breeze.

The locals were open and friendly. I liked the atmosphere of the place where the most pressing worry seemed to be preserving the perfect balance of cream in one’s tea. No one sported business suits or charged off to high-powered jobs; no one seemed to be in a hurry. They sat on benches outside their homes, shared lemonade in the afternoon sun, and waved at passersby with a familiarity that was both comforting and alien to me.

“Do you agree, Harry?” Remus’s voice cut through my musing, and I found him looking both patient and weary.

“Sorry,” I said, feeling a bit guilty. “What were you saying again?”

Remus frowned, mildly annoyed by my inattention. The two of us were starting at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry that morning, me as a seventh-year student and Remus as the new Defence Against the Dark Arts teacher. It was agreed that I would continue my education in a setting with students my age, professors teaching various subjects from which I could learn, and Professor Dumbledore to secure my safety.

“I was saying,” Remus continued, “that we have to prioritise learning the intricacies of our world and gain insight into Hogwarts, but at the same time, we must be cautious. The school is full of curiosity and secrets. We have to keep our heads down and blend in.”

I nodded. I understood that this wasn’t just a year at Hogwarts, and I suspected these ground rules were mostly for my benefit. It always was. Remus never had difficulty handling himself in any kind of situation.

“Sounds thrilling,” I said, an edge of enthusiasm creeping into my voice. Remus raised an eyebrow at my excitement.

“Harry, remember, we have to maintain a low profile. Enthusiasm can attract attention, and unwanted attention can lead to enquiries, which may lead to suspicion,” he cautioned.

I rolled my eyes, but he looked so serious that I nodded. “Okay, I’ll keep my excitement bottled away.”

”Self-control is of the utmost importance,” he reminded me again, his voice even and calm.

I let out a heavy sigh. “I know, I know,” I said, rubbing the back of my neck. My heart raced with anticipation and dread in equal measure. “But it's always easy for you to say that.”

Remus turned to me, his warm brown eyes earnest, but there was an understanding there too, one that belied the steadiness he exuded. “It’s not about being easy,” he replied gently. “It’s about survival. And if anyone can do it, it’s you.”

Remus had enough experience of this kind for it to be second nature—he knew the rules back to front. It wasn’t fair. He also had steadier personalities than I did. Nothing fazed him, nothing troubled him, and most importantly, nothing upset him.

Every time Remus and I settled in a new town, under the guise of a new surname and a far-fetched tale, I would find myself drawn to a park bench or a cafe, yearning for companionship. It felt different for me; the thrill of speaking to someone new, sharing a laugh, and finding fleeting moments of solace in connection was intoxicating. But with every new friend I made, anxiety gnawed at me, a dark whisper reminding me how dangerous it could be. When I let people in, Remus would observe from a distance, his brow furrowing, and before I knew it, we’d be moving again.

The hardest lesson learnt was that my life was no fairy tale. It was a maze of complexities and baggage, and when friends began to attach themselves to me, it was like watching an inevitable storm approach—a storm that would threaten their safety and mine.

But this time was supposed to be different. When Remus mentioned Hogwarts, I raised an eyebrow in scepticism. Hogwarts? Surrounded by countless students who would surely be curious about the newcomer with a hidden past? I couldn't help but wonder if we were putting ourselves in more danger than ever.

Remus, with his calming presence, looked at me with those deep, thoughtful eyes. “Harry,” he began, his voice steady and reassuring, “Hogwarts is the safest place for you to be. The Headmaster himself has extraordinary ways to protect his students. If you choose to stay there, we won’t have to move again.”

I gazed into the distance, the sprawling castle of Hogwarts looming in my imagination. Safety was an enticing promise, but trust came hard for me.

Remus suggested I go and wear my Hogwarts uniform. I stood in my bedroom, watching my reflection in the mirror. The Hogwarts uniform fit me oddly well, given the years I’d spent wandering with no particular destination. When I came back down, Remus had also changed his clothes to something more professional.

Remus had just helped me into the last pieces of the attire: a white buttoned shirt, grey trousers, and a tie that I struggled to knot properly around my neck. I glanced down at the Hogwarts crest embroidered on my robe, a symbol that once filled me with hope but now felt like a weight on my shoulders. With a final flourish, Remus set the pointed hat atop my head.

“There,” he chuckled. “From nomad to prestigious schoolboy.”

I couldn't help but wince at the laughter in his voice, as if my old life was merely a jest. Being called a nomad wasn’t a compliment; it was a truth too heavy to carry. “I’m not so sure about this, Remus,” I confessed, my heart pounding with uncertainty. “What if I'm not ready?”

Remus took a step closer, his face softening. “Yes, you are. You’ve come so far. I’ve taught you well, and I know you will do great things.”

Great things. The phrase echoed hollowly in my mind, sounding more like a prophecy than a promise. I wanted to believe him—wished I could find courage within those words—but doubt gnawed at me like a mischievous creature. “It’s one thing hiding from Voldemort and peeking at the wizarding world from the sidelines,” I said, my voice barely above a whisper. “But we’re going to be thrown right in the thick of it.”

“That’s the point,” he replied, his tone steady and reassuring. “As much as I want it, we can’t be expected to hide all the time. You deserve to experience Hogwarts, to be part of something bigger.”

I rubbed the back of my neck nervously. “But what if something goes wrong?”

“Hogwarts will be there to make it right.” His confidence was unwavering. The way he believed in the school's magic—the sheer power of friendship and bravery—was a sturdy shield against my anxiety.

“But it just seems like such a dangerous place for me,” I muttered, feeling the weight of my past intertwining with the uncertain future ahead.

“That’s why I’m here,” he said, placing a reassuring hand on my shoulder. “And Professor Dumbledore. You’re not alone in this. You have me and perhaps your new friends.” He smiled, a serene expression that seemed to bypass the shadows creeping in my mind.