As in the description: TRIGGER WARNING, THIS STORY CONTAINS MENTIONS OF DEATH, SUICIDE (THOUGH IT'S FAKED), MURDER, BAD MENTAL HEALTH, ABUSE, DEAD BODIES, AND THIS CHAPTER SPECIFICALLY WILL BE DEALING WITH ALL OF THEM AND IT MAY BE TOO GRAPHIC FOR YOU. If you would still like to read the story even with this warning, but do not wish to read the part about the dead body then miss from Sue leaving the table to the second "-----" and while these themes will continue, you will not read any actual descriptions. Take care of yourselves, be safe, I love you all. - Wendy Noire
"It's so nice of you to invite us over after so long, I know my dear Sue has been asking about your Dudley." Mrs White said, forcing her daughter forwards, though she looked extremely uncomfortable, in a dress that didn't fit her well, and clearly dug into her arms.
"Yeah, sure, I talked about Dudley." Sue said, looking disgusted at the idea, a sentiment that Dudley standing beside his parents agreed with.
"Of course, please come on in, dinner will be finished in only a few moments." Petunia said with a bright smile, waving the guests inside, Mr White and Mr Dursley immediately starting talking about their work, Mrs White going to the kitchen to 'help', or rather to gossip, leaving Sue and Dudley awkwardly together.
"I heard you got into a drama college." Dudley said, the two 15 year olds still standing by the door closed behind the Whites.
"Yeah, my parents aren't too happy about it, especially mum, she doesn't see the need for me to learn anything, and dad wants me to be the top of my classes and doesn't think the arts are worth anything. I'm still planning to accept though. It's not like they can't afford it." Sue said, bitter about how her parents both had her life planned out for her, a life that sounded like hell to her. They hated all her friends too.
"Well good luck." Dudley said. He had no plans past secondary school yet, though it wasn't like he was the only one.
"Thanks, I'll need it." Sue said, a small, shy smile forming on her face.
"Dinner's served everyone." Petunia said, sticking her abnormally large neck into the living room, summoning them all to the table.
"Thank you again for the invitation Petunia, you're such a dear." Mr White said as he took his seat beside Vernon, Sue and Dudley being placed next to each other, Vernon at the head, Mr White opposite Dudley, Mrs White opposite Sue, giving her a very pointed look that made Sue roll her eyes, and Petunia opposite Vernon.
The table was filled with food, though it wasn't as much or as splendid as the previous Dursley dinner parties, it was still a rather unreasonable amount of food, and Sue had been put on an overly strict diet by her mother after finding out that Sue and her friends had eaten pizza from town bought by one of the older kids once. She couldn't do anything to force Sue to stick to the diet in front of the Dursleys though, at least not without insulting Dudley which would ruin her whole plan for agreeing to this dinner.
"By the way, I haven't seen Harry around for ages, where is he?" Sue asked, digging into the chicken happily after about a week of only eating salads thanks to it being the summer holidays so being unable to eat anything with her friends.
"He attends a school for troubled children, it's a boarding school, so you wouldn't see him around." Vernon said coldly, clearly angry at the turn of conversation, or was it because Sue spoke out of turn?
"That boy was always causing problems, good for you Mr Dursley for putting him in a place like that, hopefully they can straighten him out." Mr White said with a laugh, not that anything funny was said.
"But it's the holiday, wouldn't he be home now though?" Sue pushed, ignoring the kick she got from her mother.
"Sue, now is not the time, be quiet. Why don't you go powder your nose." Mrs White wasn't asking her daughter, she was telling her to leave so she could do damage control as though Sue had done something terrible, like killed a guy.
"It's upstairs to the right." Petunia said, her smile saying the same thing as Sue's mother's, so she just silently got up and left the table, not caring about the position or clattering of her cutlery.
When she got upstairs she got a little curious about what Harry could be doing holed up in his room for a whole week without emerging. He had always been interesting, not enough for her to stick out her neck for him, but enough for her to think about him every now and then. He was always so strange, like that time he climbed the school cafeteria, she still had no idea how he managed it without getting caught before he was up there.
As she got near his room though, she could hear what sounded like a bird's screech and the smell coming from the room was terrible, it was as if something like a rat had curled up and died. Harry was odd, but nobody could be that odd, right?
So Sue opened the door.
It was just a crack, but it was enough for the foul smell to spill out of the room, and her to see a human handing from a rope, she didn't look to see where the rope was attached to.
She fell to the ground screaming, running downstairs before waiting for a response and grabbing the phone, typing in 999 before anyone could stop her.
"Hello-" The operator said, Sue not letting them get another word out.
"There's a dead body in the house, 4 Privet Drive, Surrey." Sue managed to get out, her head spinning, she couldn't tell if the smell had stuck to her clothes or it had followed her down, because it was all she could smell, and the image of the body, though in silhouette was ingrained in her mind.
-----
It was still her first week on the job when she and others were sent to the scene of a death that had been called in by a young girl around the same age as the victim. The victim's name was Harry, Harry Potter, and he was being raised by his aunt and uncle after being orphaned as a young child. He attended a boarding school for troubled children.
That was all the information she was given before walking into the room where Harry's body was. It hadn't been enough for her to prepare herself for the scene before her eyes, though she wasn't sure if anything could have.
Harry's eyes weren't fully closed, as his body swung slightly, it seemed the momentum he had when he fell still moving the rope around his neck as he hung, his toes barely touching the floor, a stool on it's side behind him, in such a way it would be unlikely to fall. His neck was badly bruised, though not in the same place as the rope, rather the bruising looked more like hands.
Flies had already started flying around him, landing on his half open, glassy eyes, his ears, and even on his paled, chapped lips. His body and the room smelling like death, rather fittingly considering what it contained, it seemed like the body had been dead for a few days before the authorities had been called. Blood was on his hands , and in some parts of the carpet, but it wasn't easily visible to see where the blood had come from.
His owl was also still in her cage, the bottom filled with her filth and the bars covered with scratch marks from her talons and beak. Her white feathers had specs of red on them in some places where the feathers touched, her feathers looking extremely ruffled and most of them also looking damp. She was making a racket and there was no evidence of food inside the cage either, so it was unclear the last time she had been fed. Harry's window had been sealed shut, though the bars that were there before his second year were gone, but there was still no way for Hedwig to go out. She can't have hunted for herself.
The Dursleys spoke to her superiors alone before some other people who claimed to be from a higher department checking if the death actually fell under them showed up. She wasn't sure what it was they were doing though, because they didn't look closely at any of the evidence closely before leaving. She had no idea what the Dursleys had said, but her superiors had no interest in her concerns with the circumstances, telling them to just get the body out of the house as soon as possible. His death, though recorded, was pretty much immediately ruled as a suicide, in spite the bruising on him in places it would be impossible for him to reach, or the bruises of his neck being much too large for his own hands.
Harry wasn't treated with respect even with death, the rope holding him up being cut by her more experienced colleagues which caused him to crumple to the floor like a rag doll. He had been treated like an object his whole life, and was treated like an object in his death too.
It made her sick that people in the police force would let this go so quickly. It was their job to protect people, and yet they not only failed to prevent this death of a poor 14 year old boy, but they refused to even respect his body as they dismissed his death. This wasn't what she had wanted when she joined.
And so that was her last day.
-----
Pretty much none of the Order believed that Harry would have committed suicide, at least all of them that had actually met Harry. Sure, he seemed somewhat apathetic towards his own safety, but he had never and would never do anything to directly harm himself. Ron and Hermione were the loudest.
"It had to have been a Death Eater who found him, Harry wouldn't do something like that!" Hermione yelled, her eyes red even if she hadn't cried in front of everyone, her voice extremely shrill.
"My dear, there was no magic in the house or on his body other than his own." Dumbledore said, smiling, which only made the people saying it wasn't Harry's own actions.
"It's not like they want everyone to know they're back yet though! They wouldn't have used magic so as to not draw attention to themselves!" Hermione argued back.
"Traces of their magic would still have been left in the house." Dumbledore said, his smile still sickeningly on his face.
"Then it was the muggles he lived with! They put bars on his windows and he would always be worried about Hedwig before going back and always says that they would rather he had died than lived every year." Ron insisted, siding strongly with Hermione, doing his best not to cry in front of Dumbledore, the very idea making him feel weak.
"Harry lived with them his whole life, he was exaggerating about his life there, I visited many times, they wouldn't kill him." Dumbledore said as though reassuring them, but it was less than working.
"Harry barely responded to half our letters though, and he tells us most of what happens and he never mentioned you going to visit him." Sirius said coldly, his hands white in fists, holding tightly on to Remus' rather too tightly to try to control himself.
"Him not telling you doesn't mean it didn't happen. I know nobody wants to accept Harry is dead, let alone that he was the cause himself, but it is what happened, I think we all need time to accept this." Dumbledore, his smile finally falling, though his eyes held no true grief as he dismissed all of them, Molly and Arthur immediately rushing to their children to hold them close.
"What about Harry's funeral? Who will handle it?" Remus asked, voice quiet as his energy was spent trying to keep composure.
"His relatives will be in charge, of course. We cannot all attend, it would draw far too much attention from the muggles he knew, I will decide who can and can't come, and more people can attend later." Dumbledore said, getting up to leave himself.
"I should have been there for him." Sirius said quietly, hands shaking from anger and regret. He had offered Harry a home, but had never even begun to follow through on that, he could blame Dumbledore as much as he liked, but in the end it was still his own decisions.
"You were as there as you could be, he didn't show any sign of getting all your letters anyway, and he never responded to mine. He didn't do this, I don't know what happened, but it wasn't done by him." Remus said, squeezing Sirius' hand in return.
Ron and Hermione went to the room Ron was staying in, the one Harry was supposed to join him in, and their tears started flowing as soon as the door closed. Ron crumpled, Hermione frozen by the door, her hands in fists and her eyes filled with an intense anger.
"You said his relatives put bars on his windows?" Hermione asked, not that she needed an answer, knowing how Harry was at the end of every year was all she really needed to look at the current situation better. "They must have been the murderers... And they get to plan his funeral..."
"We're his mates, how did we not stop this?" Ron asked from where he was curled up on the floor, his voice weak.
"You and your mum tried to, remember, you asked for Harry to be able to stay with you for the holidays, but Dumbledore insisted he went back to his relatives. If you're going to blame someone blame the muggles and Dumbledore regardless of who killed him. I am going to prove it wasn't a suicide if it's the last thing I do." Hermione was angry, maybe in part to hide her hurt from herself, and she had decided on something she was never planning to give up on.
"I'll help you, but I can't- I can't do anything now." Ron said, sounding at least 100 times more broken than Hermione had ever seen him before.
"I know, I don't think I can now either, if I try I'll break down or destroy evidence or something." Hermione said, the wind coming out of her sails, the pain in her chest becoming more and more evident as she sat down on the floor next to Ron.
The two of them sat back to back, their hands just barely touching as they sat in silence other than their crying, Ron's sobs loud and wet, Hermione's quieter and she sat with her face buried in her knees.
-----
In the end, none of them were allowed to go to Harry's funeral other than Dumbledore, in order to keep a 'low profile'. If that was the real reason then Hermione at least would also be allowed to attend, and Dumbledore is the most attention grabbing person in the order, even with Tonks' hair.
Everyone except Sirius were allowed to visit Harry's grave about a week later, with muggle repellent charms around the area so Harry could also be given a wix send off. Remus had said he would stay home with Sirius, but the man had insisted he went too, Harry deserved at least one of the Marauders there for his final send off, but it was still with reluctance that Remus left, worried about leaving Sirius alone.
Sirius stared a the ceiling of his old room, hating the house he was currently in, hating how much he and Regulus had suffered in this house, and hating that he knew that Harry would probably be alive if he had only sucked it up and come here with Harry after they failed to catch Peter. He had failed everyone in his life who had relied on him.
He left Regulus behind, leading him to his death.
He persuaded Lily and James to use Peter as their secret keeper, causing their murders.
He failed to keep his promise that he would be there for Remus during every full moon.
He hadn't looked closely enough Harry to see that his death was even possible while not at Hogwarts.
Grimaud Place could only ever be a reminder of all his failures.
Sirius rolled over to his side, the tears soaking the musty smelling pillow he had cursed to remain Gryffindor red, the colour now only reminding him of blood. The muggle picture of the Potter's wedding now directly in front of his eyes, making him choke up more, as though it was only there to remind him of his failures and misery. If only he had the chance he would have done everything differently.
Unable to stay in his own room anymore, the painful reminders that he himself had made sure couldn't be removed feeling like a knife had wedged itself in his heart, digging deeper with every little thing, Sirius walked to Regulus' room. It was his first time back in that room since returning, he had even sealed it off from the rest of the Order in spite of Dumbledore's protests. It was different from when Sirius had seen it before leaving that night, slipping a note into his younger brother's hand before leaving, and yet he could still feel the remnants of the spell Sirius had made for the younger.
"Sidus." Sirius muttered, the room changing before his eyes.
The equipment for dark magic remained, but the dark theme disappeared, the walls and bed were lavender, the smell also filling the air. There were many more pillows on the bed, muggle books filling most of the shelves, Holly Head Harpies posters on the walls, and all the gifts Sirius had ever given to him in their own corner of the room in easy view from the bed. Seeing that made Sirius tear up. The only thing that was different was a wall was dedicated to figuring out Voldemort's plans, Regulus had already figured out Voldemort was using Horcruxes, and had located three.
"Regulus... I'm so sorry." Sirius whispered as he touched the bed softly.
-----
Hogwarts was much quieter and more sullen when everyone returned, nobody had been over Cedric's death when Harry died, and now both of them were dead. Harry hadn't exactly been universally popular when it happened, nobody wanted to hear that Voldemort was back, and they needed someone to blame for Cedric's death. Now Harry was dead though, the reason didn't really matter, and he couldn't be blamed, in truth they all knew he wouldn't have hurt Cedric anyway.
Over the rest of the summer holidays Hermione had shaved her head so that she could spend as much time as possible researching Harry's case, she had massive bags under her eyes from the lack of sleep. Ron was similar, only he hadn't done anything to his hair, leaving it to grow out and get tangled, not that Molly was happy about his hair, but she didn't make him cut it, only making him let her brush his hair while he was still working on Harry's case too.
Both of their grades severely suffered; Hermione falling from top of every class she was in to bottom of everything, not doing any of her homework, barely awake in lessons, and barely putting any effort into the class work. Ron had never been the top of the class, and he was the same as he also spent all of his energy proving Harry's death wasn't suicide.
It was odd though, Ron had ended up being paired with Draco Malfoy in Potions, the person who had always been the loudest against the trio, but he would always do the whole potion himself and then tell Snape they had done it together, getting Ron at least a little credit in Potions.
If Ron had the spare energy to, he would be curious about why Draco was helping him, but he didn't.
McGonagall was also quieter than previous years, though she still taught classes in the same way as before, she was even stretched thinner, as Snape was taking every little opportunity to stick Hermione and Ron in gruelling detentions. While she agreed with the basic idea that they couldn't do nothing related to school and expect no consequences, they had just lost their best friend, detentions wouldn't help the matter.
Every night Ron had taken to staring at the Marauder's Map, like he hoped that Harry's name would appear on it again. If he had looked closely he would have seen that Draco spent 5 out of 7 nights a week in an otherwise empty Potions classroom.
-----
"Bastards." Hermione muttered at her screen. Some muggles had found out about Harry's death and had turned it into a true crime case, making crazy theories and looking more at the fact that Harry had an owl than at the Dursleys.
They had concluded that Harry had been the one to seal his window in retaliation to something Hedwig had done, as though Harry could ever have done anything to cause Hedwig distress like that. Speaking of Hedwig, she was technically Ron's now, as much as Dumbledore had tried to take everything that was Harry's, but she, by her own choice, was the one taking messages between Hermione and Ron, especially about Harry. Some others had started calling it a paranormal case and getting everything about magic wrong.
The only thing that was even vaguely useful that came from the video was that by heading further down that rabbit hole she managed to find one of the police officers who had been called to the scene of Harry's death. She was no longer a police officer and had quit only a few days after Harry's case. Her name was Roxina Wells.
Delving a little deeper Hermione found some contact information to her. Sure, Hermione knew it would likely not be the best thing for Roxina, but Hermione needed to know all the details that she could. But before sending an email, Hermione wrote a letter to Ron.
Ron,
I know it's not much and might yield nothing, but I found one of the officers who dealt with Harry. I'm going to contact her to ask for more information. I hope she'll give us something, I'll let you know what I get.
H.
As soon as Hedwig was out the window, Hermione was looking for something of Harry's she could use to prove her friendship with him. They didn't have any pictures together, which was surprising given the number of pictures Colin Creevey had taken of Harry in second year.
In the end Hermione settled on her second year Potions book that she, Harry, and Ron had written all over. She had been so mad at Harry and Ron when they did it, but now she was glad she had something of Harry's, not just to prove her friendship.
Hello Ms Roxina Wells,
My name is Hermione Granger, I was one of Harry Potter's close friends, I don't believe that he killed himself, I have never believed that. I found that you were at the scene of his death and I would like it if you could tell me about the scene. As much information as possible would be great, I'm looking into a lot of options and have been since his death.
If you want proof that I was Harry's friend then I would be happy to send you a page of mine, Harry's and our other friend helping me looking into Harry's death's handwriting. I don't have any pictures of us together though, unfortunately.
I hope you can get back to me on this soon. Thank you for your time.
Hermione Granger.
Hermione sighed as she hit send. It had been a year now since Harry died, but she still hoped that Hedwig's letters were from him, she still stayed up at night waiting for something from him. She didn't think she would ever truly accept his death, but she didn't hold it against him for not turning into a ghost. If he became a ghost for them he would never be able to move on, he would be forced to spend his whole death being asked about Voldemort and the night he died.
-----
Hermione and Ron were waiting in a café in London, Hermione's head had been shaved again recently, and Ron had managed to get an outfit that didn't look terribly out of place to muggles, but they both looked clearly exhausted, almost like new parents.
"You two are Hermione Granger and Ron Weasley, right?" An Asian woman asked as she walked up to their table. She was dressed very nicely with a blue blazer and skirt, a white shirt underneath that had the top button undone and her hair was up in a bun. She looked ready for a job interview.
"Yes, you're Roxina Wells?" Hermione asked, perking up at least externally as Roxina spoke. "Please just call us Ron and Hermione."
"Then please call me Roxina." She said, taking a seat opposite the two.
"Do you want something to eat or drink?" Ron asked, standing up and grabbing his and Hermione's cups for refills.
"No thank you, I'm fine." Roxina said, Ron nodding and leaving with only his and Hermione's. "You said you were Harry's friend?"
"Yes, I've been looking into the case as deeply as I could since I found out he died. I'm not saying he had good mental health, and I can't go into much details, but I can say that Harry has experienced people trying to murder him for a long time. If he wanted to die he could have done so much more easily and he would have left Hedwig, his owl, with either me or Ron." Hermione explained. "I want to know as much as I can about the crime scene."
"You say there were people trying to kill him? How did the police know nothing about this?" Roxina asked, leaning forwards, looking shocked.
"The relevant law enforcement knew. Those people aren't the ones who killed him though, I checked everything about that angle that I could, but in the end I had to agree with the original decision that they weren't involved." Hermione said, trying to keep herself as calm as she could while talking about this topic.
"That would explain the higher ups who showed up at the time. They left almost immediately." Roxina said, at least that event finally making sense. "I can't tell you what his relatives said happened, or the girl who found him, but I can tell you what I saw."
"Thank you. I'll take everything you've got." Hermione said, her voice weak.
"I'm back." Ron said, sitting down, putting the two cups between them, neither knowing or caring whose was whose, they were drinking the same thing anyway.
Roxina explained everything that she knew about the scene of Harry's death, every last detail that was burnt into her mind. Ron had to leave the table twice, both times going to the bathroom to cry. Hermione's hands were so tight by the end that her nails were digging into her skin, her rough nails from picking them irritating her skin.
"Thank you for giving us your time. Do you have any idea how I could find out what the Dursleys said?" Hermione asked as Roxina stood up to leave.
"Not as far as I'm aware, I'm sorry. Good luck on your search, please let me know if you solve this case, for my peace of mind." Roxina said, offering her hand, her things over her arm.
"Thank you for meeting with us too. We'll let you know if we can." Hermione said, shaking Roxina's hand first, then Ron.
"Thank you, sorry I kept having to leave." Ron looked embarrassed, and even more exhausted than he and Hermione had been at the beginning.
"There's no need to apologise, it was hard for me and my reason for quitting and I didn't even know him. You two need to be careful and look after yourselves. I hope you're both in therapy." Roxina said, looking concerned at the two 16 year olds.
-----
Ron and Hermione were 17 before they found out what happened to Harry now two years ago. They didn't have the exact details, but it was enough.
When Harry had been staying with the Dursleys he did something that set them off, likely after Vernon had been drinking. They had killed him only a few days into the summer holidays, though it was Vernon who had actually killed him it was Petunia's idea to stage it like it had been the next day. The blood found had been from previous punishments they had given to Harry, along with the bruises around his wrists.
The muggle police had never done anything about it because the Dursleys were "respectable" members of the community, and they had paid off the people in charge of the case.
And Dumbledore let Harry's murderers plan and hold his funeral.
They never got the chance to tell Roxina what they had found though, because the next morning everything was different.