Harry leaned heavily on his desk and rubbed his tired eyes. Leaning back, he roughly massaged his shoulders, kneading particularly hard at the long thick swathe of scar tissue that ran from the back of his neck, across his left shoulder and down his left shoulder blade to his mid-back. It still hurt something horrible when it rained despite the salve that Severus made him when he remembered to do so. Harry didn't complain when he forgot; the man had a lot to deal with.
"I miss you..." He told the portrait of Dumbledore that hung on the wall across from his desk. The portrait smiled at him and nodded slightly. Not for the first time Harry wished that Dumbledore had managed to get a talking portrait of himself made. This one was little help, but the comfort it provided was immense. Harry laughed wearily, his voice filled with pain. Albus Dumbledore was a great warrior and wizard. Everyone had expected him to live forever or at least go out in a great flash of romantic brilliance, one that author's would write great stories on for centuries. But no. Albus Dumbledore had died quietly in his bed, his heart having simply stopped. The slight smile on his wizzened old face was enough to make Harry hate him for all of two seconds. How could the man be happy to have died and left him-his Golden Boy, his Harry-alone to carry a burden he didn't want? Harry had stared at Albus' body in plain shock for several long seconds. It wasn't until Poppy tearily proclaimed that he'd died of heart-faliure that Harry was brought out of his stupor. In a fit of tears, he had fallen on Dumbledore's body and helplessly beat the bed. It was Severus who finally pulled him away and Harry had turned his sorrowful rage upon the Potion's master, beating against his chest and visciously biting his robes. Severus had been remarkably compassionate and had simply held the distraught boy until he calmed.
Later that day someone found a letter that Dumbledore left behin. He had apparently forseen his emminent demise and had assigned positions. Minerva was to take over the school, and Severus was to be her deputy. It was to Harry that the task of leading the Order had fallen to. Minerva had tentatively offered him the position of Gryffindor Head as well, but he had declined and the position had fallen to Remus Lupin. Harry's heart had hardened that day and he had recklessly spent the night on top of Gryffindor tower, his feet braced against the narrow ledge, leaning precariously against the slooping side. He came back the next morning soaking wet and shivering, and had caught a cold. Severus berated him for nearly an hour about his Gryffindor stupidity while he cured most of Harry's ailments. Harry remained silent through the lecture and then quietly stood, thanked his professor and left quietly. His quiet 'thank you, professor' would be the last words he would say for a week.
"Master Harry Potter?" Harry roused from his walk down unpleasant-memory lane and looked up inquisitively at the house elf standing uncertainly in the doorway. They had long since learned not to pop up in the middle of his room, as he had accidently hexed one a few months ago.
"Yes?" The elf tiptoed into the room.
"Professor Snape says Lou-lou is to come and get Harry Potter and bring him to the great hall for dinner right now...and Lou-lou isn't to leave until Harry Potter has come to dinner...or hexed Lou-lou..." the elf told him, shifting nervously from one foot to the other. Harry sighed and stood slowly, favoring his recently injured left leg. Limping slightly, he pulled his scarlet robes closer to his body and followed Lou-lou out of the room.
The hall quieted respectfully as Harry hobbled into the room, the students and staff rising to their feet in awe of the rarely seen Harry Potter, Wizard Warrior. At twenty-three Harry Potter acted twice his age and on a stormy day moved like someone three times that. But he was still an impressive sight, always in full battle dress with an array of weapondry, his wand never out of arms reach. Harry tried to stand a little taller and make his limp a little less pronounced. *I really should have Poppy look at that* he decided; limps were just as dangerous if not more so than his glasses, which had been abandoned when the war broke out in proper.
"I see the great Harry Potter has decided to grace us with his presents. How delightful." Severus commented dryly, but he did move discreetly to help Harry into his seat. The Hall waited in silent respect until Harry waved them all to their seats.
"I really wish they wouldn't do that." He muttered.
"It's their way of showing their appreciation, Harry." Minerva told him, eyeing him with unveiled concern
"And you're not helping." Harry told her sourly. The Headmistress smiled warmly at him and returned to her dinner.
"You should have Poppy look into that leg." Severus whispered, leaning over slightly to make sure his concern was not known. Harry chuckled softly.
"I will." He promised in the same undertones.