About Harry

Chapter 20 - Letters of condolences

The following day Harry decided to go to the office despite Ginny rather wished him to remain at home to talk; they still hadn't decided what to do in respect to James and Albus. He found himself tempted to accept. Not much because of the talking, it was always a motive of deep distress, but the idea to stay at home with her, consoling each other was appealing. Although some tasks left unfinished were requiring his presence likewise; he wanted everything to be in order, to be free of that incumbency so to be able not to return for the next few days.
As before he found the place almost empty, he took the empty lift and getting to his department that he was expecting empty likewise, he had the surprise of finding Elisabeth there.
'Hello, Elizabeth. What are you doing here? Is it not Christmas holidays yet?' he asked lingering at her desk.
'It is, but I thought you may come here, and you could do with some help' she replied with a smile.
'How did you know I would come here?'
She observed him, her smile unchanging, 'Five years ago I lost my husband. I worked a month straight, morning to evening without interruption...'
Harry understood immediately; it was her way to acknowledge what happened and to sympathise. It was done with tact. He liked her for it. She was a very motherly, protective kind of person that had always treated Harry almost like a son, and even more important, in Harry's opinion, without the fuss usually connected to his person.
'Ah, yes...' he mumbled averting her eyes 'You are kind, and I appreciate it, but I won't stay long and I'm not going to return again for few days, so you won't need to come. I must spend time with my family'
'Of course' she replied softly 'You will hug Ginny from me, won't you?'
He nodded.
The moment of sharing concluded, she slid toward him a big box fished from under the desk 'I sorted your correspondence. What was work-related is on your desk. The rest is here.'
Harry found himself taken aback 'The rest? What do you mean?'
'Condolences I would guess' she answered matter of fact.
'But from whom?' he asked still uncomprehending.
'From people.' She replied arching an eyebrow 'Harry dear, didn't you read the newspaper in the last few days?' she asked in an affectionate tone.
'No, why?'
His attention was still retained by the box, his amazement undiminished, there must have been at least a hundred of letters inside it, maybe more.
She spread on the desk three Daily prophets and some magazines slipped from a drawer 'You have been on it since Christmas' she explained.
Harry amazement grew picking them up. In front of the 25th of December Daily Prophet's special edition there was a picture of him and Ginny walking in a park, in the middle of them a smiling Lily keeping Harry's hand and waving to whoever was taking the picture, the title was "Tragedy struck again", he slipped this one quickly behind all the others not to have to see the photo, his heart skipping a beat. The 26th a picture of Shell Cottage's Garden the focus on the blood over the snow gave the impression of a bloodshed; "Nobody leaves interview! Do they have something to hide?". Last one, a picture of Ron all dishevelled gesticulating in front of the Wizegamot; "Harry Potter's best friend, a murderer?".
He darkened straight away 'What's this rubbish?' he said perusing them quickly. Apparently, journalists had tried to get information from everybody about Lily's death but didn't manage, only Ron's questioning was reported. The news of his attempted suicide hadn't leaked apparently. He stated what happened but refused flatly to explain the reason of their dispute. Harry was relieved and thankful for this. His life was public enough as it was, he didn't need, especially in that moment, more pressure by the media.
Although, that mystery had unleashed the journalists' fantasies. The most absurd hypothesis were reported without any consideration or respect for their private life or mourning. He was speechless with outrage.
'I wouldn't take it personally, if I were you' Elisabeth said kindly witnessing his expression sobering at every turned page.
'Can I borrow them?' he asked piling them on the box.
'Already home?' she asked seeing him back after less than an hour. She was drinking a tea in her nightshirt at the kitchen table.
He slammed the newspapers on the table 'Did you know about this?' he boomed. One of the Daily Prophet slipped from the pile falling toward her, the pool of blood in the picture standing out vividly on their kitchen table.
She took it and perused it gingerly 'I didn't read them, but I know people have been to my parents' house and to all my brothers, trying to collect facts.'
'Motherfuckers! Did they come here?' he hissed enraged.
She raised an eyebrow as usual when Harry let slip one of those colourful terms 'You know very well they can't.'
The house was protected by a Fidelius Charm. Only family members and very close friends knew the address. It was a necessary precaution to guarantee them a normal life. It was annoying in many respects. The children couldn't invite their friends over, neither they could get anything by correspondence, not even letters or newspaper. Before this decision they had to move continually.
People, especially at the beginning, were lurking outside their place or knocked at the door with excuses, just to pry. Owls were delivering messages all day long. It was a nightmare.
For that reason, it was impossible for journalists to call on them and nobody could write to them, but he wanted to make sure everything was working as it should.
'What did they ask them? Why is Percy not putting a stop to this sodding rubbish?! How did they dare going there asking questions??' He asked pacing up and down the kitchen, furious.
'Harry, calm down. It is nasty but I wouldn't have expected anything else. It's true enough that Percy works for the Daily Prophet, but he cannot stop journalists, if this is what we want to call them, and neither is he the only person to decide what is going to be published or not, as you are well aware. Actually, I'm sure it could have been much worse if he wasn't there. "Journalists" have been to the Burrow to ask questions, but nobody talked to them. George actually threatened to curse some. I think we can expect an article on the shop very soon' she said unconcernedly 'I don't know why you care. Are you not used to it by now? What's that box?'
Harry explained sitting mutinously on a chair rigid, his eyes reduced to two slits 'People really have neither shame nor decency and I don't want to read those' pointing at the letters Ginny was piling on the table 'you can throw them directly into the fire. There is enough to keep us warm for the rest of the winter' he grumbled.
She opened the first one 'Condolences' she said putting it aside, 'This one too' piling it with the other. 'Same' with a third one. She stopped short at the fourth and almost chocked on the tea she was drinking. She scowled at Harry, like it was his fault to whatever was written in it and chucked it into the fire.
She resumed her place primly 'You get very interesting correspondence; I just get advertisement' she resumed with an unconvincing nonchalance, picking up the cup with one hand a new letter with the other.
'I didn't ask people to write. Didn't I tell you that you can throw them straight to the fire?' he hissed impatiently. But she was carrying on with her reading. She brightened at the next one 'Uh, this one says that the real reason you had an argument with Ron is that he found out that you killed You-Know-Who just to take over the ministry and they are all Imperiused by you' she sipped her tea in reflection 'Interesting theory, which doesn't explain why they paid you such a pittance at the beginning but anyway I will show it to Luna the next time we meet her. She may find it interesting.' and pocketed it.
Harry was starting to feel annoyed by her unconcern in front of something that enraged him so much. 'Since you are not taking this seriously, I'm going to have a run' he declared almost challenging.
She nodded carrying on with the reading and enjoying her tea.
The fifth essence of indifference.
Fine.
A few minutes later he was out in the open air. Harry loved to run, and he did it almost every day either in the morning before work or in the evening. It helped him relax. Scarcely any witch or wizard did any sport outside in London which gave him a chance to be alone and unbothered with his own thoughts.
Lily's death had so disrupted his life that all his habits, that one included, had been forgotten for the last few days. Tying his shoes before going out he had faltered though, hesitant: thinking was painful and running was a moment for reflection, a moment to confront himself.
Muggles would usually listen to music while running, but he didn't like it. Although, that day it would have been better to have some music to listen to instead of his own thoughts.
At Regent's park, his favourite place to exercise, the little snow which had fallen had crystallized on the trees and on the ground making the park glitter under the pallid rays of sun.
He was trying to get over the rage against people that felt authorized to pry in such a moment. Why was it considered acceptable for the magical community to intrude in his sorrow? Why couldn't they print a single newspaper without mentioning him at least once somewhere? How long did people need to forget about Harry Potter?
They will never forget. It will be like this forever. It will be the same for my children.
These unhappy reflections swapped his anger with dejection.
It was a continuous up and down of emotions. Anger, dejection, outrage, sorrow... It was wearing him deeply.
He thought about Lily's room. They had to deal with that too. Together with the James and Albus' situation. And he had to go to Azkaban to talk to Ron. A sickness of heart took possession of him. He could see just painful tasks and hard times ahead. Not even a tiny ray of sun to look forward too. He couldn't see how he could be, not happy but at least serene again. A sense of uneasiness was following him like a shadow.
It was odd to think that a big part of his happiness had derived from a such tiny little being as Lily. Harry, of course, knew that he loved her very much, but he never really stopped to reflect how much of his wellbeing was linked to having her around. Moreover, Lily's absence was precluding him to be glad for what he still had. He should feel glad about Ginny loving him and about the boys growing and learning so fast, but he just couldn't resuscitate that emotion. It was buried under layers and layers of bad feelings.
He got home more dejected than ever, only desiring to go to bed and sleep.
Ginny had finished reading all the letters and they were now burning in the fireplace. Harry took a shower and laid in bed with his hair still wet closing his eyes.
He heard her getting inside the room pausing, looking at him. It was 11 am, not the usual time to go to bed.
She slipped close to him and placed an arm around his waist.
'You got two owls' she said softly.
He didn't answer straight away overwhelmed by dreariness. 'Ginny, I promise you that tomorrow I will deal with what I have to deal with, but for today, I just want to sleep'.
She kissed his bare shoulder 'One is from the Ministry'.
He groaned annoyed and opened his eyes 'Give it to me.'
He took the letters from her hand. The second one was from Hermione.
He opened the Ministry's first. It was only a few lines to inform him that in an hour time there would be an extraordinary hearing for Ron's case. His presence was required. He gave it to Ginny to read.
Hermione's one was as follows:

Dear Harry,
I write without knowing what to put on paper. I can only imagine how you feel and how difficult it must be for you. I have no words to offer that can alleviate the sorrow. I won't even try, not to pain you with common places.
You know very well how we all feel and how we loved her. Hugo is in shock. He barely speaks. He worries me very much.
I must trouble you as well with thanks. I've known you for many years and because of that I'm very impressed of what you are doing for Ron, I know what it must have cost you and I appreciate it even more. Rose is crying everyday thinking about him in prison, and I didn't know what to do any longer.
Thank you!
Ginny told me you don't want to see him again. I understand. I would like you to change your mind, but I know at present it is impossible.
This morning, I heard about the extraordinary hearing. I will be there too.
Love,
Hermione

He passed this one too to Ginny, sighing. 'I will be down in half an hour'.