Despite being there throughout so much of their time during Hogwarts, there were still so many things he had been unable to tell Ron and Hermione.
Things he was never going to tell them. Things like the guilt he felt for all the people who had died buying him time to defeat Voldemort. He had even hidden the nightmares that had come after. Harry hadn't been able to bring himself to tell them his role in Dumbledore's plan and about the Horcrux that had been latched onto him.
But that hadn't stopped him pushing on and moving forwards. The truth was he had come out the other side mostly intact. Why would this be any different? After the incident, Ginny had left and after that all Harry had wanted was to be left alone.
Instead he had to deal with reporters camping out on the doorstep of his flat, the many worried glances Hermione would send his way when she saw him to say nothing of the constant whispers everywhere he went. Molly refused to even look at him while Ron was at a loss of how to deal with the situation.
He was obviously torn between protecting his little sister and defending his best mate. This crisis of conscience had resulted in a decision to support neither of them, which had made Harry feel even more alone. Not only had the woman he loved betrayed him, but his best mate had been unable to support him. At least George, Bill and Arthur had been more understanding.
They often defended him against Molly when circumstances forced him to the Burrow, but Harry could tell all of them just wished the problem would just go away. It wasn't their fight and going away had suited Harry completely. But being alone, trapped in Grimmauld Place away from the gossip, soon proved unbearable. There was no company for him there.
All the old house gave him was a place where Harry could do nothing but brood. That was why he wanted to go back to work, back to what he was good at. At least there he wouldn't have to think about things. The Quidditch playing git she had slept with. His suspension. To say he had a one track mind over the past few months was understatement. He closed his eyes, trying to block out the memory that forced itself to the surface of his mind.
Eliza nodded, "Indeed. I think there are few who would deny how much you've suffered. The room fell into a long, drawn out silence broken only by the sound of Eliza's tapping finger.
Then she looked up with a piercing look, "Would you say that you find it difficult to trust, Harry? Even as the blunt denial left his lips, Harry realized just how utterly untrue it was. He did find it difficult to trust.
And why not? The Dursleys had treated him like the Malfoys had treated Dobby. His status among the students at Hogwarts had been at best fluid, shifting along with whatever the Prophet was writing at the time.
The same was true for practically everyone else in the wizarding world. Even his best friend had turned his back on him more than once. Only Hermione had truly stood by him, through thick and thin.
One by one every other person who he had trusted had either left or failed him. His eyes flicked to Eliza's and found her looking at him knowingly but with compassion. It was obvious she could see through his quick denial.
The fact that these sessions could be used as more than a way for him to get his job back was slowly dawning on him. When he didn't answer she continued. Keeping your feelings trapped inside isn't going to help you. Everything in this room stays purely confidential. As soon as the nib left the surface the quill froze, returning to its normal, lifeless state.
It was a simple interrogation tactic, one he had learnt at the start of his auror training and had used more than once. It worked on two levels. The first, quid pro quo.
You give them something they feel obliged to give you something back. The second, and perhaps more insidious, was that by giving them something they thought you were on their side, sympathetic and understanding to whatever plight they were going through. Whether it was true or not it didn't matter, so long as they thought you did. People, Harry had learned, heard what they wanted to hear.
Even if what they wanted to hear was a downright lie. Had she done that earlier he would probably have seen it as a tactic, one used by a member of the system that he needed to use to get his job back.
But the more they had talked, the more he had begun to realise Eliza wasn't just a part of the barrier he needed to overcome to get back to work. If there was one thing his job had helped him develop it was the ability to read people.
She wasn't just going through the motions and it was clear that she didn't care whether he got his job back or not. Eliza had, if anything, deliberately avoided the topic of being an auror. She was doing her job, being a consummate professional and attempting to help him tackle whatever problems and emotions that had been stored up inside him.
Maybe Eliza didn't have to just be a means to an end. Later, Harry would wonder how it happened. When he had sat down with Eliza, he had already been committed to saying the bare minimum to get by. Get a doctor's note so Harry could finally get back to work. But then the words came bubbling out of him. Slow at first but then pouring out in a rush. Harry found himself talking about all the chores his Aunt and Uncle had forced on him from a young age.
The darkness of his cupboard as the Dursleys sat as a family and watched the telly. The terror of being chased by Dudley and his gang during the long days of Harry Hunting season.
A fear that hadn't faded even when he had managed to get to the point of outsmarting them. He even told her how his name might as well have been "freak" considering how often he'd been called it by his supposed family. Harry had long since dismissed the idea that his relatives had been abusive given they rarely hit him.
Dudley had only really been the one to punch him and even that had stopped when Harry had figured out all the best ways to avoid his whale of a cousin. Yet as the recollections coursed out of him like blood from a gaping wound, Harry began to realise that abuse didn't always have to be physical. For all the scars on his body, Harry had avoided thinking about the mental ones he bore.
Harry found himself admitting to all the times as a child of dreaming how someone, anyone, would come and rescue him. How over the years this hope had all but died until Hagrid came to take him to Hogwarts. Although, it had become all too apparent the world he had escaped to wasn't the dream he had created. It may have provided him with only place he had ever called home and the friends he had spent so much of his childhood yearning for. But he had also encountered a darkness and pain far worse than much of what the Durselys had forced him to endure.
Perhaps the worst of it, worse than the attacks of Voldemort or any of his followers, was the crushing realization that his supposed saviour, Dumbledore, had merely squirreled him away till he had needed him to die.
Harry even spoke of his time after he'd been hit with the Killing Curse which he'd never told anyone. How even as he accepted Dumbledore's apology, inside he seethed at how the Headmaster could dare to ask forgiveness for what Harry had been put through. As he talked, Harry began to realize how much anger he had kept inside. Anger which Ginny's unfortunate lover had simply been a target.
An escape for all the pent up fury caused by a life which had been far from fair. All through this, Eliza merely sat and listened. She would only speak up when Harry was being vague or was obliviously leaving out an important detail. Never once did he feel she was judging him but sat and let his words wash over her like a long denied tide. Eliza was about to reply but a knock at the door interrupted whatever she was going to say. A man with light brown hair wearing expensive look robes stepped into the room.
He had been standing at the desk when Harry had walked into the waiting room. But the Madison's are here for their appointment and it's ten minutes past time already," the man said smiling shyly. Thank you. The man, although he didn't look much older than eighteen or nineteen, nodded blushing slightly as he shut the door behind him. But, I'll see you soon, I've got a free slot on Thursday if you're available.
He picked up his jacket from the seat, slipping into it as he walked towards the door. Unlike the Sean the secretory or Eliza, he wasn't wearing robes. Blending into muggle London wasn't too difficult, but robes always attracted attention and he didn't like being in Diagon Alley anymore. There were only so many insults and pointed stares he could take. But before he had stepped through he turned back to her.
You never said. Life is rarely so black and white so it pays not to give into preconceptions. I shall see you on Thursday then. As he stepped out of the office, Harry realised he was feeling better than he had felt in weeks. His mood soon changed, however. Instead of heading straight home he had found himself wandering the streets of London, the memories that had resurfaced in his meeting preoccupying his mind.
It felt as if his body was on autopilot, an all too familiar feeling from his time spent idly walking around Little Whinging when he had managed to occasionally escape the confines of the Dursley's. The cold wind and driving rain did little to improve his mood. Everything he had tried so hard over the last few years to bury at the back of his mind came flooding back to him. Even when he apparated home, landing perfectly on the doorstep of Number Twelve Grimmauld Place, he was forcibly reminded of the terror that had filled him when Yaxley had followed them there.
With a shake of his head to clear his thoughts, Harry opened the door only to have the harsh wind pull it out his hand and slam it shut behind him. Yet even before the echo faded, the sound of the storm cut off as if by a switch.
The silence was almost deafening. Long gone were there ravings of Walpurga Black's portrait who would no doubt have been awoken by such a loud entrance. For all the changes he had made to the old house in terms of redecorating the place could still feel like a tomb. Bereft of any life but his own.
Sunday 12 July Monday 13 July Tuesday 14 July Wednesday 15 July Thursday 16 July Friday 17 July Saturday 18 July Sunday 19 July Monday 20 July Tuesday 21 July Wednesday 22 July Thursday 23 July Friday 24 July Saturday 25 July Sunday 26 July Monday 27 July Tuesday 28 July Wednesday 29 July Thursday 30 July Friday 31 July Saturday 1 August Sunday 2 August Monday 3 August Tuesday 4 August Wednesday 5 August Thursday 6 August Friday 7 August Saturday 8 August Sunday 9 August Monday 10 August Tuesday 11 August Wednesday 12 August Thursday 13 August Friday 14 August Saturday 15 August Sunday 16 August Monday 17 August Tuesday 18 August Wednesday 19 August Thursday 20 August Friday 21 August Saturday 22 August Sunday 23 August Monday 24 August Tuesday 25 August Wednesday 26 August Thursday 27 August Friday 28 August Saturday 29 August Sunday 30 August Monday 31 August Tuesday 1 September Wednesday 2 September Thursday 3 September Konstantin Richter Johanna Wokalek Walter Kuper Susanne Lothar Martha Kuper Vincent Redetzki Philip Kuper Mehdi Nebbou Melzer Rest of cast listed alphabetically: Michael Abendroth Botschafter Sebastian Blomberg Arkadendemonstrant Tina Engel Linda Mey Teresa Harder Edit Storyline In the near future the dreams of three adult siblings living in Germany are fractured by difficult romantic relationships and the unwitting involvement with an underground organization through a growing worldwide panic over the few remaining oil fields in Asia.
Edit Did You Know? Was this review helpful to you? Yes No Report this. Add the first question. Country: Germany. Budget: EUR6,, estimated. Runtime: min. Sound Mix: Dolby Digital as srd.
Color: Color. This time, it's Fiora , who lends a wistful and vulnerable touch to "Days to Come," another Seven Lions track filled with sonic tricks that maintains tugging tunefulness all the while. The other three tracks are instrumentals that are rhythmically hefty without imposing aggression -- once again, more Zedd than Skrillex. While "Days to Come" is the definite highlight of the EP, "The Truth," "Fractals," and "She Was" display an impressive variety of emotions, with the last of the bunch -- featuring Birds of Paradise -- somehow playfully theatrical without dipping into showy goofiness.