Harry Potter and Recurring Day

[seek_to_end]

The timing was not right. Harry was getting used to that aspect of life on the island, how things did not always sync up the way they should. It wasn't something he could fix. Sirius had told Harry what happened in his future, briefly, and that had sort of been nice but had left him with more questions too, questions that he didn't want answered

Comments

[everyone_takes]

Despite what she'd said to Marshall, it seemed like Kate was actually dating. It wasn't something she'd ever imagined herself to be any good at, which had always been fine with her until it suddenly mattered. Now she couldn't help but wonder if she was doing a good job or just kind of limping along, like a wounded animal.

A wounded dating animal.

Up ahead, she could see Harry lying in the sand and she wandered over, barefoot in the sand, her sandals left somewhere up by the treeline. "Hey," she said, tilting her head so she could look at him at the right angle. "What's that?"

[seek_to_end]

Harry let the pages, still secure in his hands, drop down to his chest as he blinked up at Kate. "It's, um, a letter," he explained. He wasn't sure he could do this with the same kind of cool confidence Kate had with her photo album. Talking about the war was hard enough, but talking about his parents? Harry counted himself lucky that he was more annoyed with himself than morose at that moment. "My mother wrote it to my godfather, back when I was still a baby."

[everyone_takes]

"Oh," Kate answered, then sat down in the sand beside Harry, letting him keep the letter resting on his chest. She wasn't about to grab it and read it, but she was curious all the same and she pulled her legs under her, looking at Harry.

"A bad sort of letter or a good sort of letter?" she asked. She thought he looked kind of frustrated or annoyed or something, but people weren't always easy to read. It could have been any kind of letter, really, and she wouldn't have known.

[seek_to_end]

Harry's face went a bit pinched as he tried to figure out how to answer that question. "A good sort, I guess?" he said. But then that didn't explain why he probably looked like someone had kicked him and he couldn't kick back.

Sitting up, Harry brushed the sand from the back of his head and from his shoulders, careful not to get any on Kate. "It's a normal letter. But I never knew my parents, not really, so it's sad, too, that way. It's... one of the few things I've got from them."

And it was a prelude to their death, the mention of their betrayer so open and naive that it still stung Harry every time he glanced at Wormtail's name.

[worldisburning]

Gale likes the ocean. In District 12, he'd either been dusty or frozen but here there was the ocean and the glorious feeling of cutting through the water, emerging clean and cool and ready to go on. Things aren't easier with Katniss than they've ever been.

H just keeps soldiering on.

When he sees Harry sprawled on the sand, he walks towards him, water still dripping from his shoulders.

"Hey," he said quietly.

[seek_to_end]

He let the letter drop to his chest, the words hidden from sight but only as an afterthought; anyone can see he's got papers in his hands and he'd be pretty foolish to try and hide that. Mostly he set them down so he could sit up and adjust his glasses.

"Hey," he replied, the corner of his mouth hitched upwards half-heartedly. "Good swim?"

[worldisburning]

"Something like that," says Gale. He left his clothes in a pile not far from Harry and he bends to retrieve his towel, chafing it against his skin.

"You look happy."

[seek_to_end]

"You've got worse eye sight than me," Harry tossed back in the same tone of voice. He knew exactly how he looked and happy did not cover it.

Harry did not know Gale very well. But he knew about his home and he knew he seemed to handle things a great deal better than Katniss. That probably didn't say much, but it was good enough in Harry's book just then to get his opinion. Maybe.

"Just.. thinking about things I can't change. Which is probably stupid, huh?"

[a_real_viking]

They'd gotten a taste of that day, but it had come through a weird sideways filter and Hiccup had woken up just as safe as he'd been when he gone to sleep, with an agitated dragon who wanted to fly. Even now, he was holding a new leather tailfin, carefully wrapped in its own straps, very nearly finished.

"Hey," he said carefully.

[seek_to_end]

Harry rolled his head to the side to confirm briefly that it was Hiccup greeting him. He folded up the letter according to the decades old folds and sat up, brushing sand from the back of his head.

"Hey," he replied. He frowned slightly, looking at the thing in the other boy's hand, and decided to cut him off before he could ask the same question. "What's that?"

[a_real_viking]

"Oh, this?" Hiccup wondered whether Harry would jump on it as something interesting or something threatening. "You know how Toothless is missing a tail wing? This is gonna replace it-but it only works with me controlling it." Maybe that disclaimer would cut off the enraged protests.

[seek_to_end]

Enraged protests weren't actually the first thing that came to Harry's mind. He still thought Toothless was bloody dangerous, mind, but he could see the use of him, too.

"How far do you think he could get?" he asked, a hint of cautious excitement in his voice. "Do you think you could get past the second island?"

[not_the_grim]

Sirius recognises the way Harry looks right now in more ways than one. There are moments when it's almost as if James is there again, and this one is particularly sharp, dredging up vivid memories of his best friend cast across his bed or floor, maligning the lack of Quidditch or girls or simply excitement, or perhaps despairing over a slender red-head named Lily Evans in a way he only allowed himself when no one but Sirius was present. Sirius sees some of himself here, too, though: Restless, impotent, looking for a cage to rattle. The dichotomy is a little unsettling even as it's comforting

[seek_to_end]

There was a childish part of Harry that wanted to throw sand, take out his frustration on the picturesque scenery around them, and then lay his head in Sirius' lap and try to forget it all anyway. When Sirius joined him, he grasped loosely at a handful of the stuff and shifted in his spot, considering that very thing. But he didn't need anyone to tell him that was a stupid idea though, and he relaxed his hand only more annoyed with himself.

"I know," he said, then shook his head faintly, thinking that might have come off rude. "I mean, that's what everyone says. That she was beautiful and had this way of seeing the best in people. Clever and kind. Sort of.. perfect."

And she had to die without Harry ever really knowing her. Without more people falling in love with her for the amazing person that she was. It wasn't fair to anyone.

[not_the_grim]

"No," Sirius counters, shaking his head. "She wasn't perfect. That was the brilliant part, really. That temper of yours, you inherited it from her." He points an absent index finger Harry's way. "Worst person to get in a row with, and that's a fact. But she had a lot of love in her." The look he tips to his godson is knowing but wistful. "You got that, too."

For a few seconds he wallows in bittersweet memories, and but then comes back to himself and plucks the letter from Harry's fingers. "All right, then, out with it. What's got your dander up?"

[seek_to_end]

It was strangely reassuring to hear that. Harry wanted to keep the image of his mother untarnished in his memory, something Snape wouldn't allow with Harry's memory of his father. But the fire in her eyes in Snape's memories had seemed righteous, not the blinding kind of rage Harry sometimes felt. She was still perfect to him, because he loved her, but it was easier knowing she had some not-so-easy-to-love parts like Harry had.

He didn't fight Sirius for the letter, though he was a bit surprised to have it just taken from his hands. It was addressed to Sirius, after all. "It's not.. just that," he explained, giving Sirius time to skim over the words. "This is the third May 2nd I've lived in six months. It's the day I beat Voldemort. It's.. supposed to mean something. I think."

[the_beta]

Nothing every truly disappears, is truly lost--the source leaves but the signs and memories are everywhere, no matter where you go, no matter what magic transports you. When you're a child it's all family and nightmares--your fears in every shadow, around every corner, and your parents, the safety net you can cling to even when it's not there

[seek_to_end]

One of the easiest things to ignore during that trip back home had been Lupin. That sounded harsh and Harry would never have said as much out loud, but knowing Lupin's body had been laid out in the Great Hall, steadily growing colder, meant that Harry could avoid it vigilantly. His heart had stuck in his throat from the minute he had awoken, back on the island, until he saw Remus again, but at the time, Harry had done a very good job of pretending like his friends dying for him hadn't mattered.

It had been easier with magic. And without those people he loved lying next to him. He wasn't so far gone yet that he was going to start sobbing on Lupin though. Remus' comment helped with that, too.

"I'm not-- Alright, maybe I am pouting a little," Harry admitted grudgingly, an extremely faint smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. It faded with another sigh. "I didn't mean to. Just too many thoughts, I guess."

[the_beta]

"A gryffindor who thinks too much," he sighs through a crooked smile, "what on earth is the world coming to?" Tucking his hands under his head and staring up at the sky between his elbows, Remus sobers a bit. "You're a teenager, Harry, you're allowed to pout. And in a place like this, I'm sure the need to grow out of it will be a long way off.

"Not much to do but think, after all."

[seek_to_end]

"That's.. exactly the problem," Harry said, his voice hinting at his frustration. But it was nice too to hear Remus say he was allowed, not to judge him for behavior that Harry felt was undesirable but unavoidable. he couldn't shake the thoughts, no matter how much he wanted to.

"I keep thinking about things but I can't do anything about them. Or I can't think of anything to do about them. And I can't not think about it, so.." He let his hand rise and fall back on the sand.