Lost and Longing.

Every time they gained a bit more information on Harry, it only seemed to make her think of more questions for him, none of which ever seem to be answered. He never lied from what she could tell thus far, and Ahsoka had to admit that she hadn't really pressed him about himself. She had been far more intrigued by magic and what Harry could do. The paintings of the two dead women were also among the strangest things she had witnessed in her life. Their mere existence flew in the face of every tenet of the Jedi Code that had been pounded into her mind since the age of three.

Not their existence. They seemed to be very similar to holocrons, organic crystal lattices that stored a great amount of data and could be used for instruction that seemed to contain the personality and experiences of former Jedi Masters.

Ahsoka hadn't pressed on his history because she had been respectful. Taking what he volunteered. But new detail revealed, rather than adding more pieces to a puzzle seemed to keep expanding and jumbling said puzzle. It wasn't what the paintings were, it was what they represented.

Mourning the Dead: against the Jedi code.

Keeping visible and prominent keepsakes of the dead: against the code.

Blaming yourself for not stopping the deaths of others: against the code.

The act of Marriage itself: against the code. Though she knew exceptions had been made.

And yet, Ahsoka felt no danger or suspicion that Harry was in any danger of going down the path of the Dark side. She'd easily admit, his abilities frightened her, and the casual way which Dobby admitted to executing an entire ship's worth of slavers was more than slightly disturbing.

But, none of them had ever demonstrated any other behavior which would signal their possible fall. The two of them exuded a certain ruthlessness with criminals, but that in of itself did not lend oneself to falling to the dark side, especially as neither had broken any laws yet.

Then there was his constant taunts and borderline harassment of Aayla. He seemed to anticipate and savor each opportunity to tease and needle her former colleague and apparently still friend. The few times she had actually witnessed Aayla 'fight back', Ahsoka didn't think she'd seen Harry act happier.

At least she now knew where the behavior came from. The girl in the painting with the pink hair had to be the biggest flirt she'd ever witnessed. She seemed to have no shame at all. Ahsoka had no doubt that both her and Aayla would be fending off suggestive taunts and innuendo from both Harry and Tonks if the woman had still been alive today.

Ahsoka sighed, she had sorted the majority of her memories. All of them really, except for the events of the past few weeks starting with the horrifying accusations of treason and up to the present. She would go through them, she just wasn't ready yet. She knew that it was likely causing her further emotional grief to not properly deal with her emotions tied to recent events, especially with the tools Harry had provided her, but it was just something she was not quite ready to face yet.

She heaved herself from the bed with a trace of reluctance and quickly dressed, marveling in the feel of a clean outfit. Before she finally made her way out to the main area. A glance toward Harry's cot where he had lain, insensate whenever they had passed in the vicinity the night before told her he was already up and moving.

It didn't take long to find him.

There were two large piles of small boxes. One was neat and orderly in carefully maintained stacks. The other was like a small mountain of jumbled boxes.

Between the two piles was a large trunk. Harry was currently half in half out of a trunk while talking with Dobby. Dobby was now wearing a completely different outfit, one with black pants and a jacket, with a pure white shirt beneath the coat. He had some sort of stick in his fingers, only the stick had several large grey feathers sprouting from the end of it. He was also wearing a black flat topped hat.

At the moment of Ahsoka's approach he was shaking his head so vigorously the hat was literally spinning around on his head. "This not be Dobby's fault. Master Harry Potter should have organized his luggage better."

"It was organized, when it was last re-packed like forever ago! When we first moved into that manor!" Harry's voice echoed from the trunk as he huffed in irritation. "Not my fault how much garbage got thrown on top since then."

"Master Harry should have take Dobby's advice and reorganized when he was putting everything he owned into them," Dobby said as he shook the feather duster in his hand in remonstration.

"Dobby, I was just taking every single thing I possessed and could claim ownership to. I didn't really want to take the time to organize it all.," Harry sighed and lifted out of the trunk. "There was a slight concern as to 'time' when I was doing that."

"There be no concern for time. Master Harry was just grumpy," Dobby harrumphed loudly. "And Master Harry wouldn't let Dobby organize before we left. Like extra day would have mattered."

"Dobby … " Harry said, his voice holding a tinge of irritation and resignation. "Mistress Daphy right about Master Harry Potter when she say organization not Master Harry's strong suit," Dobby added with a smug smirk.

"Okay, I promise Dobby, next time we pack everything up, if for some reason, we're not in a hurry. I'll let you take time to organize everything for our trip. Fair enough?" Harry said sarcastically sat back and shut the trunk firmly.

Dobby scowled at Harry as if determining his seriousness before nodding. "Dobby will hold Master Harry to that!"

"Dobby… you haven't called me Master so much in years. Would you please go back to calling me Harry?" Harry requested with a sigh and waved his hand at the trunk and it shrunk to the size of all the other little boxes in the area.

"Master Harry said that was because Dobby the only one alive who called him Master, so Dobby shouldn't. But now Miss Soaky calls him Master, so Dobby can call Master Harry Potter, Master again!" The little house elf bobbed slightly, his chin lifted in a stubborn tilt.

Harry sighed in resignation, resisting the urge to bang his head against a convenient hard surface deciding it wasn't worth arguing at the moment as he picked up the shrunken trunk in his hands. He knew he could order Dobby to and the being would stop, but Harry tried to keep orders to an absolute minimum, and usually only had them to avoid chaos. The less orders he gave Dobby the more he felt Dobby was able to be himself.

"All of this is potion books, mostly beginning and intermediate, basic follow instructions types. The rest are duplicates of what are already on the shelves. I should really get through sorting that at some point."

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