Harry Potter The Long Lost Malfoy

Harry squeezed his eyes shut. Part of him wished that Healer Letham was a little less reasonable, sometimes. But she sat there and waited, and gradually, Harry's mind turned in the direction of the question she had actually asked.

Would he think of Draco as a murderer in that situation if he had killed Pettigrew in self-defense? No, of course not.

Would he think that Draco was more likely to choose a lethal spell on purpose and get out of the situation as quickly as he could? Yes.

And would he think that Draco was making a good choice if he did so?

Yes.

Harry breathed out slowly and opened his eyes. "I suppose there's not much actual difference between what I did and what someone else would do," he said reluctantly. "And I wouldn't blame them for trying to survive at all. I think it's—different for me because of other reasons."

"What are those other reasons?"

"I should have known better? I should have done better because—so many people think I'm different?" Harry heard his voice peter out, and then shook his head. "No. Not that. Not really. I don't think I'm better than other people because I'm the Boy-Who-Lived, even if they think like that."

"All right. Any other reasons you can think of?"

Harry lowered his head and closed his eyes. Then he whispered, "I—suppose I'm still carrying along some of the stain the Dursleys tried to impose on me."

"Explain that a little further, please, Harry."

It was easier with his eyes closed. "If I do something good, then it doesn't matter as much because I'm—more trouble than other people, too. And if I do something wrong, it's worse because I'm worse."

Healer Letham smiled. Harry could tell that without even looking at her. As she had said, they did know each other well. "Very good, Harry," she whispered. "I know that was a difficult thing to say aloud, and I'm proud of you."

"But it doesn't make sense, right?" Harry asked, and found the courage to open his eyes again and meet hers. "I still sound like I'm a little mental, or like I'm—"

"Your aunt and uncle?"

One of the small things about Healer Letham Harry was grateful for was that she didn't resort to the awkward ways his family tended to talk about the Dursleys, just because they didn't want to say Harry was related to them in any way. Healer Letham talked about them the way Harry talked about them. He nodded. "It doesn't make sense for their words to be lingering in my mind when I know they're wrong. I wasn't a freak, and my parents weren't drunks who died in a car accident."

"Those who raised us have a huge impact on us," Healer Letham said, and leaned back on the cushions that separated her from the arm of the couch, studying him thoughtfully. "As I think you can see if you consider some of the differences between you and your brother."

Harry snorted, trying to imagine what Draco would have been like if he'd been raised by the Dursleys, and if he'd even have made it to Hogwarts age. "Yeah, I can see that."

"Very well." Healer Letham smiled at him again and propped her chin up on a fist. "So, considering that you now know some of the reasons why you think of your killing of Pettigrew as unjustifiable, where you would like to go from here?"

"What do you mean?"

"This is the kind of traumatic event, because it is singular and not spread across multiple years, that we can do memory modification on, if you'd like," Healer Letham said, her voice as still as cool water. "We can blur it and make sure that you don't remember it as well in the future. Or we can continue talking about it so that you can try to blunt your sense of guilt by reminding yourself that it was an accident. Or we could try excising the memory altogether, moving it into a Pensieve."

Harry frowned. "That would—other people would be able to see it then, right?"

"We could cast the kinds of spells on the Pensieve that would prevent them from doing so easily. But yes, there is the chance."

"I don't want that," Harry said, with a shudder. The last thing he wanted was for someone else to see that memory and judge him, even if the judgment would just be that he had acted the way he was "supposed" to act.

He was still struggling so hard to be his own person, poised between the Malfoy he'd been born to be and the Potter boy of the past. But he didn't want others to come along and try to push him one way or the other with their opinions on the memory. Just hearing them say what they thought based on what they knew was bad enough.

"All right. What about blurring the memory?"

"Would you suggest that?" Harry asked, leaning forwards and staring hard into Healer Letham's eyes. She blinked once, as if she hadn't thought he'd do that, but answered immediately.

"If your trauma is keen and sharp enough to prevent you from sleeping or would send you again into a state like the one you endured for three days, then I would suggest it. Otherwise, I wouldn't. And it will always be your choice regardless."

Harry closed his eyes and slumped back in his chair. Yes, his choice. The way that the Portkey to the graveyard really hadn't been. But this would be.

He exhaled slowly, then said, "I think I want to talk through this. And keep my memories sharp and fresh and inside my head where they belong."

"Interesting. May I ask why?"

"Yeah."

"Then, why?"

"Because—no matter how I feel about it or if I can get to feeling better about it, he's dead," Harry muttered, opening his eyes and looking at Healer Letham. "He's probably the first person I'll see die because of Voldemort, but not the last. And I don't want to forget about that. I don't want to forget that the spells I was learning with Uncle Ted had real consequences, either. I—I want to keep that. All of that."

Healer Letham smiled slowly. "Very well."

"What do you think of that decision?" Harry asked.

"I think it's the best one that you could make under the circumstances. I wish you had not been subjected to what you've suffered at all. But as you've pointed out, it's happened. It has to be dealt with."

Harry smiled shakily. He hadn't really thought Healer Letham would have told him if she'd been disapproved, but it made him feel stronger, to hear that she'd support his decision.

Healer Letham shifted so she was sitting up again, both feet tucked underneath her. "Very well. Shall we begin?"

....

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