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(4.3) Percy

A/N: Some passages have been directly taken or slightly altered from J.K. Rowling's "Harry Potter and the Half-Blood Prince". If you recognize the text, it's probably from/based on the book; therefore, all rights go to the author for those sections.

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I had noticed Harry coming out of his reclusion. It was a small step, but an important one. He still had this quiet sadness around him, but it wasn't like before. He allowed himself to be happy. I don't know what prompted this change, and I had enough sense to know one trip underwater—no matter how awesome of a dive—was not the cause.

Annabeth must've been rubbing off on me because I hated not knowing the reason behind his changed mindset. So I broached the topic carefully one day, trying not to portray that I didn't respect his boundaries.

"I'm proud of how well you're coping now, Harry. I might not've known Sirius well or for long," understatement, "but I think he would've been proud too."

Harry stopped what he was doing to join me at the kitchen table. His gaze remained fixed on the stained wood grains running the entire length. When it seemed he wouldn't speak, I continued.

"I really did hope he could spend the summer with you. You're probably mad at me to some degree for keeping him away during the school year and-"

"It's not your fault," Harry interrupted. "I don't blame you. I just... it's just hard to realize he'll never write me again."

I watched as his eyes welled up, yet refused to drop the burning tears. I was selfishly glad he didn't start crying because I feared my heart would break for him all over again.

"I know the loss was devastating-"

"I know," he cut me off once more, "I can't shut myself away from the world or my problems. Sirius wouldn't have wanted that, would he? And anyway, life's too short. I know that now more than ever."

My pride in him grew even more. He was braver than he'd ever know. Dealt a shitty hand, but pulled out a flush somehow. Faced the monsters under his bed day and night. House of the Brave was a fitting choice. Plus, from what I've heard, he'll need that quality to survive what he's to face soon.

It frustrated me beyond belief that I could only impart whatever knowledge I'd earned from personal experience. I couldn't solve his challenges for him or save him from learning life lessons the hard way. But it wasn't about me anyway. It was about Harry. Keep that in mind was the only way I forced myself to take a step back.

"I have always found that trusting friends helps the most," I confessed. "That Ron Weasley and Hermione Granger of yours are good ones. I think it would help if you wrote to them. Tell them how you feel and what you know."

Harry looked torn. "I don't want-"

"You don't want to worry them? Frighten them? I get it. I also get not wanting them to know you're worried and frightened too," I said with a slightly elevated eyebrow.

"How do you know that I am?" The question wasn't accusative or rebellious. It was almost pleading. He wanted someone to understand, to know he wasn't alone in his fears.

I supplied a knowing smile as a response. "Trust in your friends, Harry. They can help you."

Not entirely satisfied with my answer, yet knowing it was all I'd give, Harry nodded solemnly.

"All right. I will," he resolved.

Then he went back to whatever it was he had been doing before our chat. I had some work to do too, so I let him be. Summers as a college student, especially before senior year, are very busy when you've got internships and a taste of adult responsibility on your plate. They were mortal levels of responsibility though, so I had few complaints.

Although, I thought to myself, I promised to visit camp sometime. Maybe I'll introduce Harry to Blackjack. If so, I better grab donuts beforehand.

My brain went AWOL as it jumped down a series of rabbit holes into random thoughts. At one point I wanted to grab a book but passed the bathroom, which reminded me I needed to take a shower, so I walked into my bedroom to change but then saw my clothes on the floor and decided to put them in the laundry basket first. But the laundry basket was in another room, and I would've needed to retrieve it to clean up, so I figured I would retrieve the mail if I'm at it. After a short trip to the little mailbox, I finally came back and realized I hadn't even gotten the book I wanted to get. Nor had I done all the other things.

A few hours (and random tasks) later, Harry said he was going on a walk around the block. Said he wanted time alone to think and all. I couldn't find a reason to protest, so I told him (slightly unnecessarily) to be back for dinner. I'd soon realize that I should have protested to Harry's walk alone.