July 27, evening during the Order meeting
Harry only just stops himself from stomping up the stairs to his bedroom. For Merlin’s sake, I’m not a child!
He’s seen and done more than most, and he now lives with the knowledge of the prophesy. The Prophesy. He sighs and flops onto his bed. Sometimes he wishes he didn’t know about it. Knowing about it answered a few questions, like why everything always happens to him, but it posed more questions than it answered. And for the first time in his life, he isn’t sure that Dumbledore has all of the answers. Dumbledore. He sighs. He can’t really figure out that man anymore. He used to revere him like some demigod, invincible and untouchable. But ever since Harry saw him cry, he seems so, so human. Harry supposes this is what it’s like to grow up having parents you adore and finding out that they, too, are fallible. And now he’s gone and disappointed him again. And probably Sirius, too.
He sighs and punches his pillow a few times.
He wonders if Dumbledore will make him and Snape do occulency lessons again. Just the thought of spending time with Snape makes his insides boil and he turns his thoughts to other things, like the prospect of having new DADA lessons with Sirius and maybe Moody. That’ll be fun, or at least exciting and new.
In the mean time, though, he has to stay here. He’s a bit hungry, but he can’t go into the kitchen until the Order is done. To bide the time until he can see Sirius or Remus, he decides to check out the library. There aren’t that many places in Grimmauld Place that are terribly interesting since he and half the Weasley’s got rid of most of the Dark Arts artifacts from around the house. He hops off his bed with a bit more energy than before and heads down to the second floor, where the library is.
He’s seen and done more than most, and he now lives with the knowledge of the prophesy. The Prophesy. He sighs and flops onto his bed. Sometimes he wishes he didn’t know about it. Knowing about it answered a few questions, like why everything always happens to him, but it posed more questions than it answered. And for the first time in his life, he isn’t sure that Dumbledore has all of the answers. Dumbledore. He sighs. He can’t really figure out that man anymore. He used to revere him like some demigod, invincible and untouchable. But ever since Harry saw him cry, he seems so, so human. Harry supposes this is what it’s like to grow up having parents you adore and finding out that they, too, are fallible. And now he’s gone and disappointed him again. And probably Sirius, too.
He sighs and punches his pillow a few times.
He wonders if Dumbledore will make him and Snape do occulency lessons again. Just the thought of spending time with Snape makes his insides boil and he turns his thoughts to other things, like the prospect of having new DADA lessons with Sirius and maybe Moody. That’ll be fun, or at least exciting and new.
In the mean time, though, he has to stay here. He’s a bit hungry, but he can’t go into the kitchen until the Order is done. To bide the time until he can see Sirius or Remus, he decides to check out the library. There aren’t that many places in Grimmauld Place that are terribly interesting since he and half the Weasley’s got rid of most of the Dark Arts artifacts from around the house. He hops off his bed with a bit more energy than before and heads down to the second floor, where the library is.