It Meant Family

31st of May 1990

"...his life was dominated by conflicting ideas, as often happens in periods of transition. The turbulence of the times makes some people feel a need to bestir themselves..." - Baron in the Trees, Italo Calvino

Grimmauld Place 12, London, England

Harry had been 6 years old the first time he asked Remus and Sirius about what had happened to his parents, but it was only when he was 9 that his godfathers gave him the complete answer, when they told him that Voldemort had gone to Godric's Hollow that night to kill him. They feared the boy would blame himself, they feared all the pain the truth could cause, but Harry didn't cry, or scream, or even flinch. Once the conversation was over, he simply got up from his seat at the dining table and walked to his room, in silence. After that night no one dared to mention the subject, even Kreacher, who never failed to mention what a blood traitor James Potter had been whenever he saw Harry, seemed unwilling to poke the wound.

Sometimes, during the night, a restless Harry sat in the living room floor, he would fix his eyes in the engravings in the fireplace and let his mind drift back to night of Voldemort's attack, trying to remember his parents, even if it was just a flash, even if it was just their lifeless bodies, but all his mind could muster was a man in a black robe. He was pale, his features angular, his hair black and sometimes, when Harry looked at him closely, deep into the man's hypnotic brown eyes, he felt as if he was looking in a mirror, seeing his own reflection, but it couldn't be, because that - the boy knew - was Voldemort himself.

xXx

Over the years, and the other residents of the Grimmauld Place couldn't pinpoint when it started, Harry's room started to lose the traces of his birth parents. His walls were decorated with quidditch posters, photographs of his godfathers and his muggle friends, the only one left of Lily and James found itself in Harry's nightstand, it showed the couple dancing in front of a fountain during the English winter. To unknowing eyes, it was easy to believe that Remus and Sirius were, in fact, the only family the boy had ever had.

The rest of the house, however, loved to remind Harry of the parents he lost. It wasn't ill intended, whenever he caught a glimpse of a picture in an unwanted time he would try to remind himself that they were Remus and Sirius' family too. But there were days that he would catch himself examining a picture cautiously, he would often smile at the sight of his parents so joyful and alive, but there was more to his close and attentive analysis.

He had noticed, more than once, a disembodied hand hanging in the side of a picture, as if its owner had been cut off or hidden by the frame, in other cases there were oddly placed gaps. On the mantle, for example, there was a picture of James, Sirius and Remus during their school years, James waved at someone in the distance that Harry assumed to be his mother and received a friendly poke in his rib cage from his adoptive brother, calling him to smile at the camera, Remus right hand hid itself behind his boyfriend and his left arm hang unsupported in the air, as if it was pulling someone's shoulder towards him, he smiled at the air next to him before rolling his eyes to Sirius' flirtatious wink and smiling shyly.

Harry sat quietly at the table eating his breakfast that morning, wondering about the missing person in all those pictures and missing the parents he never got to have, he must have been frowning, because Remus touched his arm softly.

"I know you don't like them cub," Harry looked up, trying to understand what he meant "but it is for your own safety". Cursed Month, he realised, June was the month he spent with his muggle relatives, he was leaving the next day, he felt his stomach clench.

Harry thought about his mother, "how could the courageous, kind and intelligent woman they had painted her to be, share blood with such a dreadful creature like his aunt Petunia?" he wondered. The thought made his heart feel heavy.

"It's not that." He responded.

"Then what is it?" Remus asked.

"I just miss them." He whispered. "My parents, I mean..." He poked his eggs with the fork. "Sometimes I wonder what things would be like if they were still here."

And he did, it was this cruel little game Harry played with himself, there was only one rule and it was fairly simple, he had to choose between the life he had with Remus and Sirius or being raised by his parents, with occasional weekends with his godfathers. Sometimes he would pick his parents, which made him feel guilty and ungrateful for turning his back on the men who raised him. When he chose differently he felt that he was betraying the people who gave him life, who sacrificed themselves for him. He would never tell anyone about it.

"I know, kid." To everyone's surprise, it was Sirius who spoke, he was usually quiet and despondent when the subject was the death of his late friends. "But your parents were heroes." He had heard that many times, it was something both of his guardians said a lot, it really bothered him, but over time he learned that they didn't say it for him, they said it for themselves, so Harry brushed it off.

He didn't exactly know what was different that day, maybe it was because he had heard it so many times or perhaps it was the anxiety of going to his relatives' house, but before he could think it through, Harry had gotten up and slammed his hands on the table, knocking his chair over.

"I don't care!" He shouted and the window in the kitchen blew open, catching everyone by surprise, he always had a clever come back and often lost control of his magic, but he hardly ever yelled at his family "I didn't want them to be heroes" his voice cracked and his eyes went red as he tried not to cry, he wanted to sound angry and strong, not sad and helpless "I wanted them to be my parents." He wiped the rebellious tears away from his face and looked down at his feet, Remus tried to reach for his hand, but he pulled away "I'm sorry." He whispered, putting his chair back in place and walking up to his bedroom.

xXx

"How many times have you read that?" Remus walked in and sat next to Harry in his bed.

"Four" he responded, closing the book on his lap, the hardcover showed a boy reading a book laying down on the top of a tree and it read "Italo Calvino - Baron in the Trees". It was muggle, he had begged Remus and Sirius to buy him when he was eight.

"Why do you like it so much?" his godfather asked.

"Cosimo decides to climb up a tree and live in the treetops for the rest of his life," he smiled "I get it... wanting to leave the world you were born into, wanting to change a decision you never made, wanting to go somewhere... some world where things are fair!" Harry put the book on his nightstand next to the picture of his parents.

"I wish I had a book like this when I was a kid." He smiled back.

"You can have this one now." Harry pointed at it.

"I know, but it's not the same" the boy didn't understand "it will always be more yours then it is mine." Suddenly, he realised they weren't talking about the book anymore, they were talking about his parents.

"Is not fair," Sirius showed up in the door frame "that we got so much time with them and you got so little." He then realised something else, they would never blame him for choosing his parents in his little games, because they loved him, really loved him and that's what love meant, to want someone to be happy, even if it isn't with you.

xXx

AN: Baron in the Trees by Italo Calvino is a real book. It tells the story of a boy named Cosimo who decides to go live in the trees, because he is tired of how the world works. It was written in 1957. I definitely recommend it.