Destiny Reversed

Chapter 2 Family

Harry didn't think he was ready to see his parents, especially if this was just an illusion the Death Eaters had orchestrated. Still, Harry wasn't sure how they could have gotten Sirius' personality so accurately. Even if they didhave Bellatrix, he'd gotten the impression that they hadn't known each other very well. Or maybe they did. He really hadn't known much about Sirius's time at Grimmauld Place, had he?

Carefully, Harry pocketed his wand, keeping it in easy reach. Whether or not the people downstairs looked like family, he would be ready and wary of them.

But what had confused him the most was the way the redhead had looked at him when she entered, almost as if there was something wrong with him and not the world. Still, why hadn't she said anything when she had the chance?

He felt indifferent to his shaking hands. Bringing them up to eye level, he watched the twitching muscles, remembering how his friends had writhed in pain, agony he had brought upon them by bringing them there.

They should never have gone to the Department of Mysteries, for so many reasons.

He brought one hand to grip the other, trying to make the trembling stop, willing himself to calm down. After a few minutes he noticed the shaking cease and wiped his wet palms on the unfamiliar jeans.

Harry closed his eyes and dared to wish that Hermione and Ron would magically appear in front of him, so they could face this together, like they had planned. Here he was, by himself in this strange, yet somewhat familiar room, thrust into something he was not prepared to face –but isn't that what he had wanted? They didn't deserve to shoulder this burden, the one he was supposed to face alone.

To be honest, he would prefer to face Voldemort than walk down those hollow stairs, past the place where a cupboard should be and into a living room that probably would not contain the porcelain cat that always seemed to watch Harry with its frozen eyes wherever he went, reminding him of his freakishness.

Exhale.

He descended the steps slowly, freezing once when he heard Sirius's bark-like laugh. Shaking himself out of his stupor, Harry cautiously approached what he assumed to be the living room, listening hungrily to the laughter and talk. Forgetting himself for a moment, he was content to lean against the wall and absorb the unfamiliar atmosphere, this rare joy that seemed so limited lately.

This shouldn't be hard. It was just Sirius and his long dead parents, after all.

He exhaled in frustration. How the hell was he supposed to defeat Voldemort when he couldn't even walk into a room? Granted, it was a room full of people who were supposed to be dead, but still –

"Harry, is that you out there?"

Frowning, he placed himself in the middle of the doorway, severely tempted to make a run for the unbarred door. "Er –I guess."

A woman with familiar eyes looked up at him, smiling brightly. He knew this woman. How could he not, when he saw those same eyes every time he looked in the mirror?

"Mum."

Lily Potter pointed to the armchair next to her. As if on autopilot, Harry's legs carried him across a room of ghosts and into a chair that seemed to welcome his weight with a gentleness Aunt Petunia's cushions never quite managed. He couldn't help but stare, wondering why no one had ever mentioned that they shared more than green eyes.

He recognized the cheekbones, the tiny quirk of the right side of the lip, little things people normally did not connect. Perhaps Lily and James Potter were starting to become as fuzzy to everyone else as they've always been for Harry, just vague memories and pictures, frozen in time to forever dance amongst the leaves.