Gifts of Friendship (gen)
Title: Gifts of Friendship
Author:
sesheta_66
Rating: G
Word Count: 1229
Summary: Harry reflects on the friends he has made over the years, when some unexpected guests arrive
Warnings: No beta.
Notes: This is the third in a series of fics (for the Friends prompt at 100_quills) about the lives of the members of the Order of the Phoenix. The title is inspired by a quote from Robert Louis Stevenson: “A friend is a gift you give yourself.”
1 - Time Passes (Molly)
2 - A Picture is Worth a Thousand Words (Mad Eye, Harry)
Harry sat in the parlour of 12 Grimmauld Place. The most recent meeting of the Order of the Phoenix had concluded about 30 minutes before, and everyone had left. For the first time in recent memory, he was alone with his thoughts.
As he recalled the days before he found out he was a wizard, Harry remembered, with more than a little bitterness, that he had had no friends. Dudley and his gang had made sure of that. His aunt and uncle had also helped, not letting him out of the house on his own, nor taking him anywhere where he might meet anyone. And when strangers seemed to recognize him, they had scurried him away quickly. He had longed for friends back then. He wondered now if things might not be easier for him if he had never actually made any friends. No friends in danger because of him. No friends to worry about him. No friends’ deaths to mourn.
He shook his head, as though to banish those wayward thoughts from his mind. He began to focus on the years that followed. He thought about the most precious of gifts that he had allowed himself - the gifts of friendship with others. His first real friend, and the first wizard he had ever really known, was Hagrid. Harry had never been afraid of him, which would probably seem rather odd to anyone else, since he had barged in on Harry and the Dursleys on that horrible island out in the middle of nowhere. But strangely enough, he had really only been curious. He smiled to himself as he recalled just how right he was not to fear Hagrid. Of course, Hagrid could be a force to be reckoned with, but not to Harry. He was just like a big teddy bear, albeit with a much stronger hug than most.
Then there was Malfoy, the next wizard he had met … no, scratch that. He was no friend to Harry, even if he had offered his hand in friendship all those years ago. Harry was right to have refused it. He wouldn’t think of him right now.
Ron … there, that’s better. Ron was his best mate and had been since the day he had met him at King’s Cross Station. They had been through a lot since that day on the train. He allowed himself to replay key moments in the past few years, and a smile crept unbidden onto his face. With the exception of that short time in fourth year when they weren’t speaking to each other, Ron had always been there for Harry, and he knew he always would be, as Harry would be for him.
Then there was Hermione. She was the most irritating know-it-all when they had first met (he chuckled to himself as he realized that hadn’t changed much), but he supposed that she had softened a bit around the edges since. Besides, her brains certainly came in handy from time to time. Who was he kidding? Her brains came in handy most of the time. Harry recalled all the sticky situations they had gotten themselves into over the years, and acknowledged inwardly that he would not have done half as well in school if it weren’t for Hermione’s persistence.
When he thought about it, Harry realized just how well the three of them worked together. They complemented each other, each having his or her own strengths which filled in any gaps left by the others’ shortcomings. Certainly Hermione injected a good dose of logic, and Ron a healthy dose of fear, into any crazy situation Harry was planning to dive into. They worked, in many respects, like a well-oiled machine. He couldn’t think of any better team to be going off in search of the horcruxes.
Harry thought back to his fellow Gryffindors who formed the Quidditch team, and filled the dormitory and the common room with laughter during the six years he was at Hogwarts. Then he thought of his fellow classmates from other houses, and the opposing Quidditch team members. His heart swelled at the thought of those people who, once they got past the Boy Who Lived nonsense, became almost like an extended family to him - the family he had been robbed of.
Of course that led him to think about the Weasleys, his surrogate family. They had been good to him over the years - well, all but Percy who was still a prat. Then there were Mr. and Mrs. Weasley, who welcomed him into their home and their hearts like another son. He hadn’t realised just how much he had missed out on, not having parents, until he had met them.
Then there was Sirius. The man who would have - should have - been his guardian for all these years. Ever since his parents had been killed, Sirius was the one who was closest to being a father to Harry, even before Harry knew it. Anger rose again in his chest as he recalled all the events that led to his separation from his godfather, and ultimately to the man’s death. It all led back to Voldemort.
Voldemort - the one who had killed Harry’s parents, along with many others. Voldemort - the one whose followers tortured and killed countless witches, wizards and muggles in his name. Voldemort - the one who had tried time and again to kill Harry. Voldemort - the one whom Harry would have to face again. Voldemort - the one who would turn Harry into a murderer someday soon.
He knew that he had to do it, but it was still murder. Harry’s hands shook every time he thought about saying those two deadly words. In his angriest moments, he thought that he would be capable of doing what he had to do, but then …
He thought back to the day at the Ministry, and how his curses practically bounced off Bellatrix Lestrange. She had laughed at him, taunted him, told him that he couldn’t do it. Was she right? After all, he had watched Malfoy up on the Astronomy Tower months ago, with all his bravado and Dark Arts training (for Harry was convinced that he had had plenty of that), lower his wand when it came right down to the crunch. Then again, Harry reasoned, that would have been cold-blooded murder. Even now, or maybe especially now, Harry didn’t think Malfoy capable of murder. Besides, that wasn’t what Harry would be facing. He had already faced Voldemort enough times to know that it would be a battle. Harry would not be facing an old, weak, unarmed wizard. He shuddered at the thought of the upcoming confrontation, remembering all to well the day in the graveyard back in fourth year as though it were only yesterday.
A knock at the door, followed by the wailing from Mrs. Black’s portrait, pulled him out of his reverie. Figuring it was one of the Order that had forgotten something, Harry got up to answer it. When he opened the door, the last two people he had ever expected to see again, much less at his own house, faced him.
“Potter,” growled Snape, glancing from Harry to a bewildered looking Draco Malfoy at his side. “Will you be letting us in then, or shall we stand out here all day?”
4 - At What Cost (Snape)