✔️ 𝐏𝐑𝐎𝐓𝐄𝐆𝐎 → ℎ. 𝑝𝑜𝑡𝑡𝑒𝑟 𝑡𝑤𝑖𝑛 𝑠𝑡𝑜𝑟𝑦

20 | N I G H T S

let's compare scars,
I'll tell you who's is worst.

   FEELING COMPLETELY OUT of place was a sensation that Ember Potter had felt in so many situations of her young life. For a while now it had gotten better. But now it was crawling back under her skin, overwhelming her as she was sitting at the long table in the gloomy basement kitchen of Number Twelve Grimmauld Place in the middle of the night, waiting for the news that would hopefully wash relief over the tensed little crowd holding onto bottles of butterbeer to not fall into the blackness of despair. Hours passed, or were it just minutes, Ember didn't know. Her body was arching in tiredness, but her mind was wide awake.

   It seemed impossible that just a couple of hours ago they had enjoyed their latest DA lesson, and not even Cho's disgusting attempts to flirt with Harry could have taken the lately rare feeling of happiness from her, as she was looking forward to return to Sirius for Christmas and additionally to leave Umbridge for a couple of days behind. But now the fact that she'd bothered about that stupid woman for even one second grew so unimportant. Now she was counting her heartbeats, one two three, echoing in her ears, over and over again, like a sad waltz, a desperate melody replaying like a metronome in a minor key.

   Her eyes barely left her own hands clasped around a bottle, from time to time flickering to Harry, who was staring at the table with dead eyes, leaving her wondering what was going on in his mind. On the other hand she was as good as sure that what Harry had seen while asleep, was not meant for his eyes. Was Voldemort aware of that? Did he know that it was not only him having access to Harry's thoughts, but also Harry having — whereas unwillingly as well as unknowingly — the ability to see what was going on in the Dark Lord's mind? Ember was sure that he wouldn't bee all too pleased about this. But the opportunities ... If Harry would actually learn to use it for his fortune ...

   Next to her, George's chin sacked down on his chest as he fell asleep. Ember shifted in her seat. Leaning back, her hands left the bottle and now wrapped tightly around her knees, which she pulled towards her chest. Catching Harry's glimpse, she tried to force her face to an expression that would tell him more than about her own exhaustion and helplessness, but she couldn't persuade the corners of her mind to lift.

   It was five in the morning, when finally Mrs. Weasley stepped into the kitchen, bringing them the good news they were so desperately longing for. Mr. Weasley was okay. Injured, but okay. She enclosed George and Ginny in a hug, while Ron gave a shaky laughter and Fred sunk into his chair, his face brightened with relief. Ember took this chance to quietly get out of her seat and leave the kitchen without anyone noticing.

·

    The more she broke her head about it the upcoming days, the more she came to the inevitable conclusion: Ember had to go to Dumbledore. As soon as she would return to Hogwarts, she would have to tell the headmaster about the link between Harry and Voldemort. For sure he would find a solution, because if Dumbledore won't find one, nobody would. The only thing important was to not let Harry find out. But Dumbledore would manage that as well, wouldn't he?

   As the days passed at Grimmauld Place, and with Christmas Eve in their backs, the mood in this old house was skipping awfully. Sirius, who'd been the happiest Ember had ever seen him in this short while she knew him, had fallen back into his usual grumpiness, and the younger ones did not the tiniest look forward to returning to Hogwarts at all. Also their incident with Neville in the Saint Mungo hospital left them all shook. Ember often found herself in her room, only coming out for supper.

   The nights she couldn't sleep, Ember often sneaked out of her room, taking all the way up to Walburga Black's old room, which Sirius' had made a home for Buckbeak. The presence of animals always had helped Ember to calm down and clear her mind; it had something soothing to run her fingers through the Hippogriff's stealthy grey feathers, and as she sat down by the wall, her back leaned against the tapestry, Buckbeak laid down next to her, his head placed on her thighs, while Ember absentmindedly ruffled his head, until she fell asleep just like that, as she did every night, then magically waking up in her own room, covered in her blanket, as if leaving this room had been nothing but a dream.

   What Ember didn't know, was that she wasn't the only one to have difficulties falling asleep at nights. The first night Sirius found her in his mother's room, which he used as a hideout whenever he needed it, he considered to wake her, so she could go to bed. But she looked so peacefully, not comparable with that exhausted face she used to wear while awake, no dark shadows under her eyes, no wrinkles of sorrow on her forehead. Looking at her, he sunk in memories of his fifteen year old self, how life had never been easy for him, never been fair at all, but still the fifteen year old Marauders never had to deal with the things that were torturing Ember and Harry now at the very same age.

   In a fair world, she wouldn't sit here in a dark room on a carpet covered in crusted stains of rat blood. In a fair world, Ember would lay in her bed, snuggled in that patchwork blanket Lily once started for her, but could never finish, wearing a pair of Euphemia Potter's knitted wool socks to prevent her from that icy December night. In a fair world, before she had been gone to bed, James would have lectured her about all the boys' foul tricks to sneak into a girl's heart. Lily would have shared an annoyed look with Remus, and Sirius and Peter's bodys would have shaken from surpressed laughter. In a fair world, they would have been a big, happy family ...

   But they were not. The night James and Lily died, the world has ended, just no one had told it yet. It was still turning mercyless, forcing them all to go on the best they could; a broken family with broken hearts, and as much as Sirius hated to admit it, the bonds the four of them left behind should share were broken as well. Ember and Harry, Sirius and Remus, and world's between them, deep valleys of all their very own problems and fears, and worries and pain, and as hard es he tried, he couldn't see a bridge to cross them.

   This night, like every other, carefully he lifted up Ember from the ground, carrying her back into her room, pulling the blanket up to her chin, when he placed her onto the bed. He softly stroke her hair out of her face, before he turned around to leave the room.

   This night, unlike every other, when he pushed down the door handle, he could hear a whispered, "Thank you, Sirius", and it felt so unfamiliar, this sensation of a real smile, as the corners of his mouth lifted for such, and he whispered, "Anything for you, Emmie." And in the name of Godric, did he mean it.

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