But Harry Potter was still a person separate and apart from his parents, or the unfortunate circumstances of his kidnapping. Albus had been startled when Harry had been revealed as Aldebaran Malfoy in his second year, and puzzled as to what it would mean for the prophecy. There was no way that Lucius and Narcissa Malfoy had defied Tom three times.
In the end, though, he hadn't thought it would matter. Tom believed in the prophecy no matter who Harry's blood parents were. Harry would have done better with the kind of training that Albus and the Order could have offered him, both magical and moral, but Albus was sure he would manage to survive and vanquish Tom. Love was a greater power than any dueling spell.
It wasn't even the fact that Harry had killed Peter that dismayed Albus now. It had clearly been self-defense. It was what the Malfoys would encourage Harry to think and feel about that event, whether they would manage to turn him into someone who pushed away the thought that he had killed a man.
Or came to think of that man as someone less than human.
Albus closed his eyes. Harry Potter could survive in many ways. He might even be the better off for having a loving family behind him.
But not if he was twisted in the kind of monster that Lucius Malfoy was. Or even Narcissa Black.
Albus wished he knew what to do.
.....
Harry woke from another nightmare, this time one that felt ordinary instead of a vision from Voldemort. He had dreamed that Pettigrew had survived the Severing Charm Harry had flung at his throat, and had sat up and turned to Harry and asked why Harry had murdered him.
Harry sat up and blinked at the tall window on the opposite side of the bed from Healer Letham's chair. He hadn't consciously noticed it before. This wasn't his usual bedroom. Harry didn't know why, other than maybe this room could have wards placed around it that his bedroom couldn't. Or maybe Mother and Father hadn't wanted to admit Healer Letham to his bedroom.
The window looked out in the direction of the Manor's gardens and was a square of glass two times taller than Harry, crisscrossed with silver bars. Harry stood up, wincing at the shakiness of his legs, and nearly fell before he clutched at the table next to the bed.
He didn't look over his shoulder to see if Healer Letham was watching him. Right now, he didn't want to know. Instead, he walked over to the window and looked down at the gardens.
The grass was a brilliant and unnatural green, probably the result of spells the house-elves used on it. A white peacock was strutting on the grass with his train spread, and a peahen watched him without much interest. Harry slowly let his eyes trace the line of a small stream running between beds of bright red flowers.
He was thinking.
He could think and remember Pettigrew's death all he liked. It wouldn't change the fact that the death had happened. He could lie in bed and weep and have nightmares, and nothing would change how he felt.
Only one thing would. Well, two things.
Taking down Voldemort, and surviving.
If I feel so guilty about killing Pettigrew in the graveyard that I never do anything else again, Voldemort will have won.
Harry swallowed. He would probably always have nightmares about Pettigrew's death, the way he had about the moment when Voldemort used the Killing Curse on Lily Potter. But he could try to make sure that those were the only nightmares he had, instead of adding to them by failing to protect people or hiding in bed for the rest of his life.
He turned around. Healer Letham was indeed watching him, but with her head turned to the side the way she often had when he was lying in bed. Now she looked at him straight on, as if knowing he could bear it, her face mild and patient as always.
"I want," Harry said, and paused. His voice was croaky with three days of no use. Healer Letham floated a glass of water over to him, and Harry swallowed and swished it around in his mouth for a few minutes before he said, "I want to do something to make sure I can live with this."
Healer Letham nodded, her face showing no surprise. "Do you want to begin by talking to me? Your family? Someone else?"
"My family first," Harry said. "Then…can we have a session tomorrow? Or in a few days? When I've had some time to get back on my feet and eat something?"
"Of course." Healer Letham stood, stretching in a weird way that made ripples travel all through her body. "I'll be happy to call a house-elf with food for you if you want."
"That's okay," Harry said. "I have something to do first. And I'm sorry for keeping you from your family," he added, abruptly aware that she'd been sitting here for three days and he hadn't seen her leave once.
"I was where I was needed and where I wanted to be," Healer Letham said simply.
Harry gave her a shaky smile and limped towards the doorway.
Father came to attention the instant Harry crossed the threshold, but didn't move towards him. Maybe he thought Harry would retreat back to the bed if he did. Harry walked straight up to him instead, and wrapped his arms around his father.
Slowly, Father embraced him back, and then pulled him close and held him desperately.
Harry closed his eyes. And something in him began the long journey back towards the light.
....
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