CONFUNDUS; harry potter [UNDER EDITION]

CHAPTER SEVENTY-FOUR

HARRY

Harry tried. He really tried to stay and pretend everything was normal. He tried to sit through conversations but everything turned back to the war. It was expected, at first, with Ron and Hermione forcing him to explain why he left.

"I couldn't breathe here," he said. "I needed to be alone."

And that answer had different reactions. The Weasleys looked hurt, Celia and Venice were understanding, Andromeda and Remus pitied him. They couldn't grasp the concept of Harry doing something so selfish such as chasing after Lucca. He felt guilty until Luna said, in her airy sweet voice, it was alright to be selfish and he should be seeking happiness.

"And Lucca is your happiness," she added, pale blue eyes sparkling. "And you are Lucca's happiness."

Three months was too much. He thought he was going to be alright but he missed Lucca and his family and the monotony and tranquil scenery Limay Village had. He missed waking up with the rising sun, walking Lucca to the Sub-Floo and returning to a place where he was needed. Daniel took him to the barn and greenhouses, collecting elements for his potions, teaching him in ways Snape or Slughorn would never, and he included Harry in his projects without intending to. Nora was less welcoming but rudeness never suited her. She was kind-hearted, with her own gentleness handing out cups of warm tea, filling his plate and sending him to bed, always making sure he was warm. It was ridiculous because they didn't have to — not after Francesca died because of him, not when Lucca, Milan and Venice were hurt.

Nevertheless, Lucca's family opened up to him and saw something people in England couldn't. They saw a boy, a scrawny bounded boy who wanted to see Lucca again. They didn't see a hero the Prophet published with false heroic acts and ridiculous anecdotes. But they didn't pity him, and Harry liked that. He liked Lucca's cousins invited him to play games and teased him as if they knew him their whole lives. He liked his uncles and aunties wanted to know what his favourites were: books, movies, school subjects, sports, Quidditch teams.

When a month turned into two, Harry understood Lucca's sulkiness after he talked for hours about his family. He felt empty, somehow. And it was ridiculous because Harry barely knew these people and yet, when he was hugged, Harry felt they were already missing him.

That numbness in his chest, which often vanished when he saw Ron and Hermione after dreadful summers at Privet Drive, returned and it felt wrong. The Weasleys were the closest thing he had to a family here, Celia and Remus were his parents' friends, Hermione, Neville and Luna were his friends and it was stupid to miss those people he barely knew.

Harry's random guess is that he has craved so long for a family to the point pretending to be in Lucca's was an easy way out to deal with the grief.

A second guess came when he met Irene. Pretty little thing she was. Cuddled by her father, a new found joy in Cedric's face was unbearable for him to watch. Harry knew, ever since he was a kid, he wanted a family. He wanted to marry and have children and allow his house to become a home.

It was clearer then, as Milan whispered, "Meet your Uncle Harry," to an unbothered Irene. "He is going to babysit you in the future with Uncle Lu."

Harry felt overwhelmed at the implication. Milan was not careless, she knew what she was doing. She smiled at him, as if saying, 'see? You're family, Harry.'

And wasn't that a beautiful feeling, being included in a family without meaning to?

However, he decided to return early when Fiona's letter found him.

Venice and Harry had been working on renovating Grimmauld Place, sorting out old antics the Blacks owned: sending them to Gringotts, selling them in antique shops, destroying those which were cursed. Venice casually left the letter on the table as she picked up her coat, "This came for you in the morning," and just like that, she opened the door and apparatated out of his sight.