It Meant Family

25th of August 1992

"Living this way is my way of getting revenge. I'm going to be living proof that your fate isn't decided at birth!" – Attack on Titan, Ymir

Grimmauld Place 12, London, England

As the end of summer vacation approached him, Harry grew quieter. The concerns regarding Ron and Hermione's absolute silence were becoming too overwhelming to bear. He spent most of the day in his room imagining all of the horrible things the other Gryffindors were thinking about him.

Even his birthday had been awfully uneventful, he'd opened his presents with a sad smile and ate his meals without a word. After full moons, he would sit next to the bed in the basement and read Moony stories, which would help him separate his mind from the wolf, but they wouldn't talk and his family became more and more worried. Remus and Sirius had decided to give him space, after all, they knew that the past year had given the boy a lot to deal with, but as the day seemed closer in which they would have to see him off to Hogwarts again, things changed.

"What's on your mind cub?" Harry was sitting on the floor staring at the living room wall, recollecting memories from the day Sirius had finally managed to take down his family tree tapestry a few years before and Remus' question seemed to pull him back to the present.

"I'm just tired." He didn't turn to his godparent, he couldn't look him in the eyes and lie.

"You do nothing, but sit in your room all day, that's not tired, that's depressed" Sirius wasn't at all delicate when it came to sensitive topics, he was blunt and thick which made the topic harder to dodge without being rude. Remus apprehended him with a glare.

"We should probably go to the Diagon Alley soon, I need my supplies before the term starts next month."

It had been a while since his Hogwarts letter had arrived, but he didn't feel like going out into the wizarding world yet, his unsettling desire to do so the previous year seemed rather unfathomable after his more recent experiences. When the mail arrived that morning he had been quite surprised, assuming that the murder of one of his professors would earn him an expulsion, he remembered his family making some remark about his new DADA teacher, but he had paid it no mind.

"We can go today if you like" Remus' offer caught him off guard and he got up quickly.

"I have a headache," he scratched his scar, which reminded him of the sound of Voldemort's voice in his head "maybe tomorrow."

xXx

Harry liked his room, because it was quiet and warm and he felt safe in it, but most of all he liked that the walls weren't stone, his blinds weren't red and most of his pictures didn't move. He had made a mental note at the end of the previous summer to take those down, photos of the friends he would never see again, but he hadn't gotten around to it yet.

He wondered what it would be like to see them after a year, how different they would be from him, the experiences he had that he could never tell them, the lack of war in their eyes, he was unsure if they'd even recognise him, a lot can change in a year.

"But at least they wouldn't hate me" he thought "because they wouldn't know what-" the sound of his own voice whispering in his head was interrupted by thud coming from his wardrobe. Harry heard mumbling inside the furniture and walked towards it, when he swung the door open, a little creature fell out. The house elf was the same height as Krecher, but the similarities ended there, his big green eyes had a mix of sweetness and pain to them, his skin was filled with fresh bruises - which the other elf didn't have - and old scars.

"Harry Potter, sir" he got up stumbling and looked at Harry with awe "Dobby is honoured to meet the boy who lived."

"Dobby? Who- How- Why-" He couldn't figure out what to say, the whole situation was very unexpected, it wasn't common for house elves to visit other families and he had no idea how he had managed to find them under the protection of the Fidelius Charm.

"Sir, Dobby comes to warn Harry Potter that he must not return to Hogwarts this year for great danger awaits him" much to the boy's surprise, as soon as he was done with the sentence, the elf's eyes grew wider, he reached up for a book from the lowest shelf and slammed it vigorously on his head.

"Stop it, stop!" He took the book from the elf's hand and threw it on his bed. "Come on, sit down" Dobby seemed shaken from his words, but obeyed them and Harry was becoming a little curious "Who sent you?"

"Oh no, Dobby's master doesn't know he came to warn Harry Potter, sir." He stopped for a second and shot himself out of the bed. "If his master finds out he will have Dobby iron his fingers again, he'll be furious." He wrinkled his finger before his eyes, contemplating the punishment. "Dobby shouldn't have come, but he needed to tell-" He paced around the room talking to himself for a while before Harry saw the pile of letters stuck to his back.

"What are those?" He recognised Hermione handwriting in one of them and reached his hands out to grab it. "My friends..." he pushed his glasses up his nose and looked closer, "they wrote to me? You stole m- How could you? Do you have any idea what I've been thinking the whole summer? How I've been feeling? I thought they hated me, why would you do that?"

"Dobby didn't mean to hurt Harry Potter sir, Dobby thought if Harry Potter didn't hear from his friends he would not wish to return to school." He stumbled back, leaning against the wall trying to make himself as small as possible.

He stood motionless, part of him wanted to yell at Dobby, - the same part that enjoyed the magical accidents that hurt his cousin - but he also knew that doing so would change nothing, he mostly wanted to read his letters and write back to his friends.

"You're wasting your time" he turned his back to the elf, ready for him to disappear "I have to go back, especially if something dangerous is going to happen."

With the sound of Dobby's disapparition, Harry knew he was finally alone in his room. After sitting on his desk, the boy began to open his letters and devour them, starving for the reassurance that he wasn't the monster that Voldemort's voice had told him he was.