Indifference Towards Difference || Harry Potter

23 | Don't Let The Wrackspurts Get To You

"To feel anything deranges you. To be seen feeling anything strips you naked."
Anne Carson

~~~

Hi, Harry!

I've never had anyone write to me before! Well, no one but Ginny and Luna, really. I've been meaning to write anyway, but Gran's getting a bit suspicious over everything. She ran a good number of charms over your letter; she could hardly believe someone had written to me! Had a whole extra glass of Selene's Silver Sherry once she realised it was you as well.

You can't be sorry about everything at the Ministry— I bet Ginny and Luna'll say the same but we went because we wanted to. Gran said my mum and dad would be proud of me— she wasn't even mad over me breaking my dad's wand! Says I'm starting to live up to him at long last. She got me a new wand as well—cherry and unicorn hair—and probably one of the last Ollivander sold. He's a pretty nice old man— I hope he's alright.

I'm sorry about your godfather as well. I know he was Sirius Black, and I don't know everything, but I could tell you loved him. And I'm sorry you lost him. But it gives us all the more reason to fight, because we can't let Voldemort win. We can't let him take anymore from us.

Just remember, we're fighting for family, Harry. You can't ever be sorry for that.

Write again soon, and keep safe!

From, Neville

Harry wondered at what point had Neville broken out of his tortoise shell. Less than 5 years ago, Neville Longbottom had been a small, scared boy, clutching Trevor the toad like a comfort blanket.

This Neville, that had written to him, was sure and strong, still kind with his words but stubborn about getting his point across.

Neville, clearly, had made his parents proud.

Had Harry?

What a stupid question.

He sighed, glancing up at the picture of his parents, shrouded by autumn leaves and love in their swaying dance. What a stupid question indeed.

***

Harry stepped quietly into their reserved Occulemency room, the door shutting softly behind him. The room had changed; usually blank and cold and empty, there was a certain warm glow provided by the non-drip candles, held in place by elegant candle-holders fixed to the wall. And the wooden floor was now carpeted a calming blue. Not to mention the two dark blue armchairs, which looked incredibly comfortable.

Perhaps Harry had walked into the wrong room.

Just as he'd turned to walk out however, Snape strode in, halting at the sight of Harry's one-step progress towards the door. The Gryffindor was sure he saw a flicker of something that wasn't candlelight in Snape's eyes.

"I assure you, Mr Potter, you are in fact in the right room. And you will not depart from it any earlier than two hours from now."

Without waiting for any sort of awkward affirmation from Harry— probably for the best to be fair — Snape swept past him to walk into the centre of the room... and promptly sat down.

On the floor.

Cross-legged.

The whole gesture looked so not Snape-like that Harry could only stare.

The git smirked snidely. "Sit, Mr Potter. As I hope you know from your reading earlier today, we will be attempting a different approach to guarding your mind from the Dark Lord. I suggest you sit down; one way or another, you will end this session on this floor. The choice lies with you, as to whether that may be done so with painless dignity or otherwise."