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Over the Horizon | ||||||
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Category: Alternate Universe, Post-Hogwarts, Post-DH/AB Characters:All Genres: Action/Adventure, Angst, Romance Warnings: Dark Fiction, Death, Disturbing Imagery, Extreme Language, Sexual Situations, Violence Rating: R Reviews: 88 Summary: Imagine a world where Voldemort had won. Now imagine a post Hogwarts' Battle Harry stumbling into it... One man: Harry Potter. One goal: to survive. One quest: to do the impossible. One word: Power. Hitcount: Story Total: 52649; Chapter Total: 3854 Author's Notes: Enjoy |
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Breathe, Just Breathe (…) Magic is an impenetrable realm, full of mysteries and contradictions; where does it begin and where does it end? No-one knows, we can only use it; with no knowledge about the how’s and the whys, we bend magic to our will, using only a few selected words in a foreign language and a few wand movements, we are able to produce outstanding effects. But in truth, what does a stick and a few funny words have to do with our raw magical power? What is it that makes us capable of achieving shocking feats with a specific type of wood and a unique core? Why are wandless spells impossible to do while only the most powerful warlocks can do wandless magic? Magic is an inherent power to those in the Land of the Living. Muggles do have it, only it’s obsolete and therefore not functional, but in their very heart, an inch of magic exists. But back to the matter at hand -Wandless Magic. As it is widely known, only the most powerful wizards and witches can perform it. Why is that so? Magic is a wild spirit that flows in our bodies, and each of us contains a different amount from it. When we are young children, our bodies and minds are still too young, too immature to be able to have any control of our emotions and, therefore, our own magic. As the body and mind develops, magic shifts and can only be channeled with wands. Magic is a force within us that can’t be controlled, only tamed — and that is what wands are for. Wands translate our magic into the desired effect, they are like our vocal cords; without them, we cannot speak. To those still able to perform some wandless magic, they must be extremely powerful to have a bit of their own power in its natural form. However, those warlocks can only achieve the simplest of magics; lighting candles and such; some of their vocal cords are dysfunctional, but they can still produce sounds, unintelligible, true, but they still can. It is practically inconceivable to imagine the person who, without any vocal cords, might still be able to speak clearly; it’s unthinkable that anyone could hold so much power that he wouldn’t need his wand to perform spells. It is a frightening and wonderful idea, to imagine such a person who can withhold such a great power. But, alas, given the fact that not even the mythical Merlin was supposed to be able to succeed in such a task, no-one truly believes anyone could surpass his unmatched skill. However, I know better, I have foreseen it. There will come a wizard, so powerful, so pure, that he will destroy our decaying world, build a better new one from its ashes. I know he will, and his name will be Harry James Potter. Nostradamus: Principia Magica, Chapter Eleven: Of Wandlore and Him, 1397. …Solitude, quiet and peace. Harry felt as if he was trespassing some place holy, of unearthly beauty, somewhere where he was not fit enough to be. He felt as if he was six years-old again and at school, where he was shunned for being Harry Potter, small, weedy and with those daft round glasses. But there was something about the place that beckoned him, that welcomed him. He didn’t know where he was. For a fleeting instant he thought he had died, because he had never felt so warm, so content, so devoid of anything unpleasant. He felt nothing else but a deep, ensnaring tranquillity. He glanced around; it seemed as if he was in some kind of impossibly beautiful forest, but there was no-one around, not even animals, only a refreshing wind that seemed to caress his face softly, warmly. Night had already fallen, but he noticed that he could see everything perfectly; there was some kind of unearthly glow that surrounded the woods. Further away, on top of a hill, Harry could spot a huge white castle, shining fiercely against the dark skies, tempting him to trespass the entrance and make his own home there. He didn’t know where he was, he had never been there before, no matter how much the place looked like Hogwarts, and he didn’t know whether he was welcome there or not. But he couldn’t help wandering around, enjoying the quiet content that filled him. Everything was so warm, so appealing… Well, everything except for the endless black lake in front of him. It could possibly be the only thing he didn’t like; in fact, he felt quite apprehensive to get near to it; so deep, so still, so dead that it chilled him to the bone; so dark it seemed to be calling for his life… Suddenly, the silence was broken and Harry spun around, wand at the ready; squinting his eyes, trying to spot what had broken his solitude by moving — no, slithering — around. But there was nothing, absolutely nothing — had he imagined it? He frantically he turned around, but sill, he couldn’t see any living and moving being apart from himself. And then — out of nowhere — he spotted a huge body — but he had no time to do anything — a big pair of unforgiving bulbous eyes and he seized up, his heart constricted in his chest, and he fell on the ground, feeling as if life had left his body… For a few minutes, he could sense nothing but his own mind, not his fingers, not the rest of his body; but as suddenly and unexpectedly as he had noticed something slithering about, he started feeling warm, too warm, in fact. Heat spread through the tips of his fingers and feet, into his legs and arms and the rest of his body. Alarmed, he tried to yelp, but no sound came out of his mouth, and he felt helpless, seeing that he was getting so hot he was going to — Harry Potter burst into flames. ‘What the blazes has just happened to me?’ Harry asked after a while, flummoxed. Standing up and straightening his clothes, feeling the previous warmth leave his body, as a distant heart-lifting song echoed through his ears. Too concentrated on figuring out what the heck was going on, he didn’t notice any of the singing. Just when he thought he could take no more surprises, the silence around him was once yet once again, as a loud roar filled the air, making Harry nearly jump out of his skin. And then — He woke up. ‘Up you get, Harry,’ he heard someone — a woman — telling him gently, as he noticed a pair of thin but strong and determined arms heave him into a sitting position. ‘Whozzair?’ he asked groggily, his eyes refusing to work properly, his mouth dry and all of his muscles weird, as if they were foreign, unmoving and awkward objects attached to his body. He yawned, but he couldn’t cover his mouth with his hand no matter how hard he tried to lift his arm; although, in all honesty, he didn’t really care too much about manners at the moment. Oh how did he wish the woman would stop talking and leave him alone, let him sleep. It was worse than listening to Binns, or being at the end of one of Hermione’s elven rights revolution ranting, even worse than hearing a normal conversation between Lavender and Parvati… The woman kept talking to him, and he couldn’t stop think about the mental image of a hundred buzzing bees surrounding a bit chunk of meat, pinching and prodding it constantly and tirelessly. Honestly, he didn’t fancy himself a juicy steak. (A/N: mm, actually, I do. Yummy) SLAP. ‘Wo?’ Harry asked intelligently, although a bit less dizzy; which was quite normal, in his opinion, he’d just been slapped after all. ‘Whazat for?’ he demanded, affronted. ‘Snap out of it, Harry!’ the woman yelled. ‘You don’t want for fall into a coma! Drink this, now!’ He felt the same pair of arms and hands grab his messy and untamed hair forcefully, pulling his head backwards in a swift move and opening his mouth wide, pouring some sort of revolting liquid into his mouth. ‘Merlin, what was that for?’ he shouted at the woman — McGonagall — once awareness took over him just as soon as he had swallowed that stomach-churning beverage. Urgh, even essence of Goyle had tasted better back in his second year as a Hogwarts student, when Ron, Hermione and himself had drunk each a vial of Polyjuice Potion. ‘Potter’ chided McGonagall, ‘I told you before you agreed to take it that the Animagus Revealing Potion was a highly dangerous one, heavily controlled by the Ministry — you should be thanking Kingsley you are not forced to register - not only for those who take it but for those who brew it. I explained you the effects and the risks! If you wake up and then fall asleep again you shall then never open your eyes again!’ ‘Oh,’ said Harry. ‘Yes, oh,’ answered McGonagall unimpressed. ‘Now; tell me — what did you see?’ Harry remained quiet, pensive, for a few minutes. He knew that it was probably ticking his Transfiguration professor further off, but he needed to sort the images he had just lived through before telling her a tale of seemingly drug-induced tale. What did all that mean, then? First the dead yet alive forest, the gleaming white castle, the eerie lake? Second — the sudden death, the flames, the unexpected rebirth, the deafening roar? What creature on earth could possibly do all of those things at the same time? Unless Newt Scamander had lied to them all and such a creature did in fact exist, it wasn’t just possible! Unless, unless — ‘Professor!’ Harry shouted, making McGonagall clutch her chest as her face went pale of fright. ‘Er — sorry,’ he said sheepishly, noticing the elderly teacher’s reaction. ‘Anyway; do you remember, professor, when you helped me through the principles of the Animagus transformation, when you helped me decode the information stored in my brain?’ Waiting only a few seconds for McGonagall’s hesitant nod, he continued talking fast; ‘when you explained to it to me, you told me that our Animagus forms show our inner true self, the true nature of our souls; my dad was Prongs, magnificent, arrogant and proud; Sirius was Padfoot, loyal and crazy; Pettigrew was a rat, sneaky and traitorous. So since we only have one soul, one person can only have one form, right?’ he asked quickly, wanting to let McGonagall know that what he was about to say did not come out of inexperience and lack of hours of being devoted to the Hogwarts’ library. ‘The thing is, professor that I — er — I think that might not be correct,’ he said nervously. Professor McGonagall arched an eyebrow sceptically, piercing him with eyes, positively terrifying Harry. ‘And what do you mean by that, Mr Potter?’ she asked briskly, her former warmth towards him vanished; succeeding into making Harry extremely uneasy, as if she were to attack him if he dared to defy one of the rules of the art she so well knew. ‘Er, the thing is, professor, in my dream, the things I noticed, well, no animal magical o non-magical can be all those things at once… Er, well, you see first I, er, died, after I saw a pair of big yellowish bulbous eyes… and then I burst into flames and was alive again — and then I heard a deafening roar — professor? Professor!’ If Harry didn’t any know better, he would’ve just bet all his money sitting at Gringotts that his ever so composed Transfiguration teacher had fainted out of shock. ‘I am alright — I never — in all my years of study! — It’s impossible, it can’t be!’ she sputtered, ‘Do you know what this means?’ she asked him wildly, any previous decorum forgotten. ‘You’ve broken one of the most elemental rules known to wizards again! Why is it that rules never apply to you, Harry?’ she cried, half-exasperated, half-awed. He could only smile bitterly to that statement. If only he had never been so special, he may have had a happy childhood and never been the central piece of the chessboard. Too bad he sucked at that game. ‘You know it meant loads for her, don’t you?’ Ginny told him quietly. Harry nodded briefly, without looking at her, his eyes fixed on the lake where he could spot the Giant Squid doing something to its appendages, gleaming in the moonlight. He looked up at the skies, the stars and the moon, shining brightly over them and the grounds at Hogwarts. With a reminiscent sad smile, his thoughts wandered to those long gone years, when a wolf, a stag and a dog would be running blissfully oblivious to the world in a night like that one; not knowing what was in store for them, ignorant to the pain and suffering they would each have to live through; the ache, the loneliness, the feeling of the world falling apart as their lives shattered, crumbled before their own eyes. He sighed, acknowledging for the first time in his life how truly lucky he was. He may not have had the happy childhood and normal teen years his father had had, but he knew he could actually hope for a future, something neither of his parents were now able to wish for. ‘I knew you didn’t want to have a big party, but I think if you hadn’t let mum fuss over you on your eighteenth birthday, she would’ve been much worse… thinking she had only one birthday at April’s Fool instead of two - ’ said Ginny, her voice breaking. He took her hand in his. ‘I know,’ he whispered soothingly, trying to calm her down, rubbing his thumb along the lines of her palm, in the same comforting way she did to him. ‘I know.’ ‘Before everything fell apart, we did have some good times, didn’t we?’ she asked, her voice an octave graver, her tone a barely audible sound, pain echoing through every syllable she uttered. He glanced at her, boring his eyes into hers. She looked so sad, and yet so beautiful, with her flaming red hair silenced by the night, her pale complexion standing out, her freckles barely visible, her hazel eyes shining too brightly. He lifted his other hand and caressed her cheek, ‘yes, we did.’ She moved her legs a bit, her left knee touching Harry’s, and she snorted lightly. He looked at her and at his inquiring gaze, she told him ‘I was thinking about the summer after the battle at the — about the summer after my fourth year - ’ ‘The summer I lost Sirius,’ Harry whispered. She nodded apologetically. ‘Yes, but I wasn’t smiling because of that. It’s just — do you remember about Phlegm and how she drove my mum nuts?’ she asked him. Harry’s lips twitched upwards. ‘I reckon it wasn’t the greatest idea to lock your mum up with Fleur in the broom closet, Gin.’ She smirked. ‘Well, they needed to make up and stop driving me up the walls.’ He snickered, remembering Mrs. Weasley’s maddened eyes at the sticky situation she’d been placed in. ‘That they did. But I don’t think your mum ticks that way. She had seven of you after all, and I seriously doubt it was the work of two women, honestly.’ She scrunched her nose in distaste. ‘Ew, Harry, bad mental image! That’s my mum and dad you are talking about! They have never done that,’ she stated clearly, shaking her head wildly in a quite insane way, ‘we were all immaculately conceived.’ Harry laughed with mirth. ‘Sure, if you say so.’ ‘I do,’ she nodded fervently. ‘But I don’t plan to have my children immaculately conceived. Actually, I plan on having them very dirtily conceived,’ she added with a smirk. Images assaulted Harry’s brain, nearly making him jump out of his skin. His cheeks tinged pink at the heavily sweaty flashes that run amok through his mind, no matter how hard he tried to push them back were they belonged, where they were allowed. Damn Ginny and her innuendo! It would now take him some time to be able to look at her straight in the eyes without those dirty thoughts popping up. ‘Ginny,’ he whined. She laughed quietly. ‘Oh how do I love getting you all flushed and worked up Mr-Harry-James-Potter-Gryffindor’s-Quidd itch-Champion-and-the-Dark-Lord-Slayer.’ Harry groaned, forcing himself into thinking about gruesome things, like Voldemort smiling. ‘Oh you are evil, pure evil,’ he complained childishly, his head in his hands, jerking his legs frantically. ‘You wouldn’t have me any other way,’ she humoured him, pulling his face upwards with her hand and planting a soft kiss on his lips. ‘I know,’ said Harry in defeat. Merlin, that girl was going to be the death of him. She would succeed in doing what Voldemort and all of his merry bunch of Death Eaters could not, he was positive. Although, admittedly, he couldn’t deny that he liked her methods of torture much better, thank you very much. But still, she was plain evil and cruel, and so Slytherin sometimes… ‘What are you smiling at?’ she asked him. ‘Nothing in particular,’ he told her, shaking his head lightly. ‘Just remembering that summer.’ ‘Yeah… It was the start of our friendship, wasn’t it?’ she said absent-mindedly. He nodded fervently. ‘Yes it was. Before that summer I had never talked to you properly, too afraid you’d end up sticking your elbow again in the butter dish — OW! What was that for?’ he complained, massaging his sore head after she’d slapped its back forcefully. ‘For being a twit. Did you really need to remind me of that embarrassing stage of mine?’ she asked him, feigning a winding anger, intending to strangle him. He chuckled light-heartedly, trying to defend himself from her aggressive nature. ‘Alright, alright, don’t kill me please,’ he begged her, laughing all the time as she ended on top of him, fighting with all she had to break her hands free from his firm grip. ‘You know what to do, then,’ she told him fiercely, straightening her bedraggled robes. ‘Yes, yes, yes — death, mayhem and all the things orange, I know. (1)’ he answered her, snickering. He lifted himself from the grass into his previous sitting position and plucked the grass off his robes, smirking to himself. ‘Do you remember that chess game?’ she inquired suddenly. He turned to look at her. ‘Which one? The one we played when Fred and George had transfigured us all into chess pieces?’ She laughed richly at that one. ‘Oh, I’d forgotten everything about that one! Merlin you looked so pwetty playing queen, such a nice dress it was!’ Harry’s face flushed in shame at the thought. He remembered that day as if it had been yesterday. The whole Weasley family plus Phlegm, Harry and Hermione; minus Percy had been there. Harry and Ginny had been talking to the twins about their newest inventions and projects, Harry sincerely interested about the state of their business, Ginny very interested in new pranks to play on Ron and the Slytherins as soon as she went back to school. Anyhow, both parties were deep in the conversation, the twins had admittedly grudgingly that at the moment they couldn’t spend any time at their “Creativity Laboratory” because their hands were too full of work: the shop, the customers, the products they sold, the propaganda, the finances. They were actually thinking about hiring someone who was good at figures, so they could spend more time doing what they liked the most: exploding stuff in the lab. Trouble was, the only person they could think of who would be well suited for the post was Percy, and there was no way in Merlin’s pants they come to him after what he had done to the family. Fred stood up and announced at that moment that he needed to channel his prankster instinct right then, and, after having seen the fierce game between Ron and Mr Weasley; with George’s help, they transfigured everyone into a piece of the set. Needless to say, Ron hadn’t been too pleased when he found he was a white pawn, while his mother was the white king. But no-one hadn’t been as embarrassed as Harry, with a veil covering his face and a long tight dress around him, with his privates getting such a healthy breeze. ‘Excuse me if I am wrong, but you weren’t actually that happy when they made you knight, your buttocks sticking out, were you?’ Harry smirked at her, remembering how flushed Ginny had been when she’d been forced to be in that awkward position. However, he had to erase that image from his mind a second later, and he chided himself. Why-oh-why did that long buried image of laughter an innocent joy turn into something completely perverted? ‘No, I wasn’t,’ she admitted ruefully. ‘But that wasn’t the one I had in mind. I was referring to that chess game we had when we were all high on sugar, thanks to me and my brilliant ideas to cheer your long faces up.’ Harry laughed at the memory of that game. ‘I don’t think I’d ever seen Crookshanks as frightened as that day!’ he said, clutching his stomach as he laid his back on the ground again, his muscles aching. She guffawed heartily. ‘Good times those, weren’t they? Quite unlike what they turned into…’ He sobered up immediately and sat again. ‘I Know. Later everything just shattered. Dumbledore — the Horcruxes — everything…’ he uttered sadly. ‘Our relationship,’ he heard her whisper to her knees. Ginny then raised her head and looked at him straight in the eye, as if afraid to say what she wanted to tell him. ‘Harry?’ ‘Yes?’ he asked her encouragingly. ‘Where are we?’ Proof of how much Harry had actually matured when it came to understanding girls thanks to the many hours he had spent with Ginny (Hermione was a girl, yes, but she was just too weird), he knew exactly what she was talking about, thank you very much. A few years ago, he would’ve just stared at her, questioning her sanity, and would have told her blankly “Hogwarts, the grounds”. But that night by the lake, Harry realised he knew better than that. ‘I don’t know,’ he answered truthfully, not looking at her but at the ground between his legs, his fingers playing with the soft grass and the tiny flowers around. ‘A part of me wishes to keep you safe and sound here; but the other wants nothing else to have you with me all the time, and I know that no matter how much I dislike endangering your life, you’ll get to come with me.’ She kissed him softly and smiled on his lips. ‘That’s how it should be, Harry,’ she told him softly. ‘So you could say we are back together, not just snogging left, right and centre?’ He smiled sadly at her. ‘Were we ever truthfully apart? Did you ever want to be with someone else, hug someone else, kiss someone else when the war broke out in the open, while I was gone hunting down Voldemort’s bits? I know I didn’t, not for one second — you were always there,’ he told her honestly, and with such a force in his voice her heart broke and she tackled him to the ground, kissing his fiercely, feverishly, ferociously, possessively. His hands travelled to her waist, and he hoisted her until she was practically lying on top of him, their lips never breaking apart, the sole thought occupying his mind was just how right she felt, with her weight on his, the feeling of her warm and soft body melded against his, her hands in his hair and neck. It was intense, it was hot, it was exciting, and it sent tingles through Harry’s spine, wanting more, wanting to drown in her… She pulled away and smirked evilly at him. He shivered. By Rita Skeeter B eloved readers, haven’t you all been wondering what has become of Gryffindor’s Golden Boy, Harry Potter? Haven’t you society involved people questioned what has happened to our resident hero after he defeated single-handedly the darkest wizard of all times, He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named, whom he usually calls ever so dismissively by his first name? Haven’t you all darling girls whined, not knowing what’s with that charming man claimed by Witch Weekly to be the Most Eligible Bachelor in Britain? I know, I know, many of you have racked your brains trying to decipher where the elusive Mr Potter is. Is he, as Ms Hannah Abott thinks he is, resting and sunbathing in the Bahamas? Is he, as Mr Zacharias Smith believes him to be, in Cambodia, bringing up the secret child of his previous girlfriend, Cho Chang? I, Rita Skeeter, can exclusively reveal that neither of them is in the right, for he has not left Hogwarts since the beginning of the summer days. The question is why, of course, why has Harry Potter been secluded within the walls of the castle that has been the home of this valiant, handsome, courageous and orphaned boy? The exact reason of it, I am afraid I haven’t found out yet — but I fully intend to do so in the near future. However, it is interesting and a bit disturbing that he has made a legal appointment to sue anyone who dares to write his biography. What secrets does Harry Potter, the most famous boy ever, have to hide so blatantly? Was it some secret love affair of his? The most intriguing mission Albus Dumbledore apparently planted on his shoulders before he died? His disappearance from the world since last summer?The true nature of the most mysterious prophecy? For we all know there was one, since he indirectly mentioned it in the final confrontation with He-Who-Shall-Not-Be-Named: “I don’t want anyone else to try to help. It’s got to be like this. It’s got to be me” he told the crowds first; “There are no more Horcruxes. It’s just you and me. Neither can live while the other survives, and one of us is about to leave for good…” That, I believe, dear readers, is one of the sentences of the well hidden prophecy that concerned those two titans, but Mr Potter isn’t available for conformation. Not to forget, we are positive Mr Potter survived the Killing Curse yet again on that fateful night, his death feign and the words exchanged with Him are enough evidence to hold that statement true… Which leads me to wonder whether there is something that can resist Mr Potter… And what on Merlin’s name are Horcruxes? We do not know, for it is a Ministry-banned subject… Talk of the devil, Mr Potter has been seen to meeting Ministry officials regularly, and he has especially been meeting our own Minister for Magic, Kingsley Shacklebolt. About the nature of these little rendez-vous with the Minister, when inquired, the Minister disclosed nothing apart from the fact that it was top classified information and that none apart from Harry Potter, a few ministry officials, other needed people and himself knew about. Of course, that kind of statement would lead anyone into believing a revolution is going to break out. What are those pompous, arrogant Ministry dogs and Mr Potter planning? What can be so secret that gives the Minister constant headaches and nightmares so vivid his teddy bear Hendrick can’t help him with anymore? What has driven Harry Potter into building a solid body instead of continuing having his lanky and tall self? Although we may not know yet the why for this sudden change in Mr Potter, I can assure you witches (and wizards) that Mr Potter has been fabled as Most Eligible Bachelor in Britain with a good, solid reason. With a fortune large enough to buy a whole continent, a power rumoured to rival those ones of You-Know-Who and Albus Dumbledore at their strongest, a pair of beautiful and penetrating evergreen eyes and a body many of us girls can only imagine and most mean can only dream of having, don’t we all wonder who will be the fortunate witch to capture his heart? Ms Lovegood, daughter of the crazed editor of the Quibbler and a close friend of Harry Potter had a few words to say about the matter. ‘Harry has been infested with Nargles since he left school last year. But I think he finally got rid of it with the juices of Gibbly-Grublebellies’ I am still trying to decipher what she meant with that. Ms Romilda Vane’s answer, a pretty and vivacious soon-to-be sixth-year student at Hogwarts, was much clearer. ‘He used to date that Weasley girl, Griselda, I think that was her name. But he dumped her two weeks later or so. Merlin, let’s be honest, would Harry Potter date seriously someone who has nothing else but a bit of talent at the Quidditch pitch? For the love of Agrippa, no! She is just an ambitious and plain girl who wants to drag about dating Harry Potter!’ Well, if that is indeed true, we readers are very happy indeed his relationship with that creep ended. Which is all well, for his heart is open to the much more deserving witches in England. Mr Longbottom, son of the tortured Aurors Frank and Alice Longbottom and another of Harry Potter’s close friends, when visited at his family’s ancestral manor, had unfortunately nothing but few and rude words to say: ‘you leave Harry alone, even if he wishes to date Professor McGonagall, you will leave him alone!’ Well, at least Mr Potter seems to have very devoted friends. Still, as it has become apparent that Mr Potter has no little witch holding his heart — go chase him, girls! Fight to be the one that claims she’s the girl who keeps him warm at night! -oOoOo OoOo- ‘Faste r, Harry! Harder, Harry!’ ‘I am trying!’ he whined, panting heavily, ‘damn, I just can’t get my body to work!’ He dodged again a pair of curses that went on his way and then rolled over and stood up, wiping with his forearm the sweat of his face, panting heavily. A stray beam of purple light came rushing towards him out of nowhere and, before it hit him square on the chest, he yelled ‘Destructo!’ He heard a deafening explosion before him, but he couldn’t see it as he was fighting in semi-darkness, and he fell to the ground, his chest hurting terribly. ‘STOP!’ Kingsley’s voice commanded and all of the attacks on Harry halted and the lights went on. He closed his eyes quickly and shielded his face with a sweaty arm, as the sudden amount of brightness hurt his green orbs. He lay on the ground, unmoving, waiting for his heart to resumed normal pace while blood pounded ferociously on his ears, his t-shirt and sweatpants sticking tightly and uncomfortably on his exhausted body, spread over the cold marble stone. ‘You are getting better, although there’s still an ample room for improvement,’ Kingsley’s rich baritone voice broke the silence, as Harry lifted the burning arm off his face and took the offered hand that hoisted him to his feet. ‘Incredible reflexes, outstanding speed. But I think you can give much more yet.’ Harry nodded in acknowledgement and put his hands on his knees, trying to stretch his sore muscles. ‘Yes, sir. How many dummies did you activate this time?’ The Minister grinned wolfishly. ‘Twenty, out of which you’ve left only one standing. The rest of them have either been stunned, incarcerated, burned, frozen, destroyed from within, cut open or beheaded. Oh, and do remember to use non-verbal spells, will you? All the Occlumency we’ve been practising together should help you with that.’ Harry winced apprehensively at the state of the dummies that had been so thoroughly slaughtered, he truly didn’t want to use such lethal force, but he knew the time when he could disarm his opponent and get away with it was long gone. The time where he was a pawn ascended to bishop in the battle between Dumbledore and Voldemort was over, he was his own man and he would have to fight and play dirty, although he refused to lower himself to the Death Eaters’ level. ‘Your spell knowledge is increasing by the day, and your natural fighting skills are astonishing, but I know you can still do so much more. It’s only you who needs to know that, too. Ready for another go?’ Harry inhaled sharply and nodded determinedly. Preparing his stance, he lowered his wand into a defensive-offensive position and he clenched his jaw in concentration as the lights flickered out. He stretched his free hand and then drew it back into a fist constantly, tingles ringing through his body, his muscles contracted in high alert, all of his senses sharpened. All of the sudden, he sensed a presence behind him, and before anything could hit him, he spun around. ‘Incendio!’ and felt waves of heat near his body, making him jump a few feet away. ‘Escindo! Sectumsempra! Stupefy! Escindo!’ Four o’clock, a jet of bluish light nearly hit him and he dodged at light speed, feeling his hair ruffle. Eleven o’clock: green light. Uh-oh… Move Harry! He rolled on his stomach, faster than anyone could ever be and stood up on his feet, right as rain, jumping slightly in tension. Six o’clock, twelve o’clock, one brownish and one pinkish jets spiralled towards his abdomen and head. ‘Reducto! Hielo! One blasted dummy, another one frozen. Good, he said to himself. Ten, eleven, twelve, one and two o’clock: five twin greyish beams shot directly at his forehead. Easy, he smirked as he bent backwards to avoid them. ‘Aquopolis!’ ‘Oh shit!’ he cursed. He was bloody surrounded. His clock was full, packed with the twelve hours and some half-hours. He dodged, rolled, but he was hit several times. He was bleeding, he was tired. ‘Destructo! Hielo!’ There were still too many! What was Kingsley thinking? What was he doing, was he on crack or something? ‘Reducto! Atlas Fractum!’ He rolled and jumped. ‘Fuck! What the heck is just happening? Kingsley! They are out of control!’ Harry roared, as he escaped yet another beam of green light and responded with another Severing Charm. ‘Incendio!’ he thought, and raced through the room, feeling his vision blurry; if this fight didn’t stop soon, he’d end up passing out. ‘Hydra!’ Shit, the dummies were like multiplying themselves. With each one the got down, two more came to attack him. ‘Arco! Reducto! Reducto! Sectumsempra!’ Dodge, bend, jump, duck, turn ninety degrees to the left, jump to the right, do one-eighty. ‘Incendio!’ Bugger , he’d been hit straight on his cheek and neck with a Severing Charm and he was bleeding from his wounds profusely. ‘Destructo! Reducto!’ His neck was killing him and his legs were ready to give into his weight. He just hoped Kingsley would stop playing these games and let him rest, he’d been going at it for the last twelve hours, he just needed to rest for a while, just a few hours… six straight hours in his bed would be a dream come true… Out of nowhere, three jets of red light hit him on three different places and he fell to the ground, his whole body twitching as an excruciating pain swept all over him, ensnaring his mind. His eyes rolled backwards — he couldn’t think anymore — all of his nerves on fire, hot knives stabbing him, a thousand needles piercing through his skin… but he didn’t scream, not with the Cruciatus Curse on him. Wait a second — the Cruciatus Curse? But that was impossible! Kingsley had told him he had charmed the dummies to throw jets of green and red light to fake the real Unforgivables! But this was the real thing! Merlin, what was the Minister playing at? Slowly, forcing himself to admit he was in pain but that it shouldn’t cloud his thinking, he put all his effort into raising his two wandless hands, the curse still active on him. ‘Inferno!’ A rush of heat — screaming — as the lights were turned on as a sputtering Kingsley entered and threw himself by his side, quickly healing the wounds as best as he could. ‘Merlin Harry, I’m sorry! I don’t know what happened! And what did you just do? I was seeing it from the outside, screaming for the dummies to stop — but nothing happened — I am sorry! Episkey! Episkey! Cicatrix! I swear I charmed them to fake the Unforgivables, I am sorry! But what the heck did you just do?’ ‘Dunno Kinsy,’ said Harry groggily, ‘liftams — seh ‘Infno!’ n’ tha’s all!’ ‘Bloody hell, I am taking you to Madam Pomfrey right now. Oh she’s just going to kill me I know. But Harry, did you just utter the Inferno Curse wandlessly, or were my eyes deceiving me?’ Shacklebolt pressed on, suddenly frightened, as he lifted Harry into a conjured stretcher and produced several blankets to keep him from catching a cold. ‘Yah, I guess so. Whassamatta?’ he asked. Kingsley went pale and started trembling from head to toes, his whole body rigid and his eyes staring at Harry wildly, so insanely that even Harry at his present broken state was severely wary of him. It was chilling, it was eerie. ‘Kinsy?’ Harry tried feebly. ‘But that’s impossible! Unfathomable!’ -oOoOoOoOo- ‘Mate , you look terrible. You looked as if death had warmed up,’ Ron told him as soon as he entered the Gryffindor common room. Harry rolled his eyes and slumped on the couch. ‘Yeah, try having Kingsley cursing your soft bits off and then McGonagall after your blood, see how well it suits you,’ said Harry, his voice dripping sarcasm. Ron winced a bit. ‘Sorry mate. That sounds terrible… and I thought I was hard-done-by with all these books, trying to understand Hermione…’ he said, with an attempt at humour, smiling at Harry tentatively from his position on the floor. Harry smiled weakly. ‘Sorry mate, I was a bit harsh on you. So, what are you reading? Where’s everybody?’ he asked, bending forwards, curiosity getting the better of him even in his exhausted state, wanting to know what had Ron been reading before he had come into the room. Ron lifted several books and passed them to Harry. Defensive Magic, Transfiguration Today, War Strategy… ‘Phew, you’ve been busy,’ said Harry. ‘You bet,’ answered Ron tiredly, putting several piles of notes on a heavier stack in front of him. ‘I doubt Percy had ever worked as hard as we are working right now. Bloody hell, OWLs were holidays compared to this!’ Harry laughed weakly. Truthfully, he didn’t think he had ever been that tired. He just didn’t have any spare energy for anything anymore, he only wanted to drown in his blankets and pillows, and nothing else, no dreams, no ambitions, no snogging Ginny, only simple and plain rest. ‘Any progress on the research front?’ Harry asked, scratching his eyebrow. Ron shrugged. ‘Dunno. Hermione was pretty excited this morning. So it’s either she’s found a way for real this time or it’s again a dead end. What about you?’ Harry sighed. ‘I owe Kreacher, big time -’ ‘He’s got no problems to go with you like us, does he?’ He shook his head. ‘No he hasn’t, elf magic binds him to me. I told him about this new situation and then asked him what he wanted to do about it, whether he wanted to stay at Grimmauld Place or be with me. Well, he was quite vocal about it, so I guess I’ll take him with me. So, anyway, yeah, I owe him. He has set the wards to recognise me as the rightful owner of the Noble and Most Ancient House of Black, unless of course — he — is alive, in which case - ’ BOOM. H ermione Granger had just nearly blown off the portrait hole, stampeded into the common room and grabbed Harry’s neck — nearly strangling him, but who cared? — and tackled him to the ground, where she gripped Ron’s neck too and started crying outrageously, banging continuously their heads together. ‘I did it — I found it…’ she sobbed. ‘Hermione — air…’ Ron choked. ‘Oh! I’m sorry,’ she said, releasing them, burying her face into her hands, not noticing the massages they were each giving to their very sore necks and their relieved faces; she didn’t notice either Ginny’s amused grin from the entrance, she just continued crying and sobbing into her hands until Ron threw an arm around her shoulders and Harry lifted her chin with one of his fingers. ‘What do you mean, you “found” it?’ asked Harry, his eyes narrowed, wondering whether his line of thought was correct and whether it meant what he believed it did. ‘I did it! I know how to go with you!’ said Hermione, between sobs. ‘You — you did?’ cried Ron, elated. Hermione nodded curtly. ‘I was so desperate to get a new idea, something that would work. Every and each of my previous ideas had been wrong and unsuccessful, so I tried to use things that I already knew, that I’d already used — but modified,’ she explained. ‘So what was it?’ Ron asked keenly. Hermione sighed. ‘The Dark Mark.’ Harry felt his eyes pop at that. ‘No — absolutely not. There’s no way I’m using such a — vile — thing. I’m not risking your lives that way! And I’m not making a Horcrux, either!’ he yelled at her. Hermione shook her head. ‘It was my inspiration, but it’s the Dark Mark as it should have been, not the twisted thing Voldemort created. I knew you would refuse branding us with something like that, something that would kill all of us should you die, so I created what the Mark should have been. ‘This mark is an act of love, trust and loyalty to you, it’s pure; something Voldemort could have never used for his own purposes. It will link us to your whole and untarnished soul united to your body, but once your soul leaves your body, the link will be severed. Should you create a Horcrux, your soul will be damaged and so would ours — and I seriously don’t want to risk it. So, in theory, you should be able to summon us whenever and wherever you wish, although it will probably take some time for it to adjust, so I don’t think you’ll be able to summon us as soon as you get there. It’s very important you understand this: we are not linked to your soul, your life force, we are linked to the union between your body and soul; if you die, we don’t; if we die, you don’t.’ Harry felt touched, really touched. To know what she, what they had all done, and just for him, for Harry; it was deeply moving. Of course, he couldn’t help feeling antsy about the whole new situation. He sighed. ‘So I guess I should be giving you what I got you from London a few days ago.’ ‘You went to London?’ Ginny asked, flummoxed. Harry nodded sheepishly. ‘Kingsley made me. Now that you’ve found the solution to the problem, he should be taking you soon, too.’ ‘What for?’ Hermione inquired curiously. He smiled enigmatically, ‘You’ll see.’ Harry then turned his head to the staircase and lifted his right arm, ‘Accio!’ and with a flick of his hand, a trunk came tumbling down the rickety staircase that led to the boys’ dormitories. ‘Harry — did you just - ?’ Hermione hissed, while the other two just looked at Harry, their eyes open in shock and awe. ‘I did, but don’t ask anything else. I just don’t know, I have to talk to Dumbledore.’ Calming Hermione down and bringing the two Weasleys back to life after that impossible little display of magic was worse than Harry had expected. They would have probably been more active if a trolley had run over them, honestly. Hermione was just concentrated on whatever impossibly difficult theories her brilliant brain could come up with; Ron kept gaping at him like a fish and Ginny had a feral, predatory look to her that sent shivers down his spine. ‘Okay, could please concentrate on this bloody trunk for a second?’ Harry asked, slightly exasperated and, thankfully, his friends’ eyes shifted to the object instead on keeping fixed on their previous spot, him. Harry stood up and put his hand on the lock of the trunk and it opened up for him. ‘Don’t touch it yet, you haven’t been keyed in,’ he warned them. ‘I’ll place a drop of my blood on one of your hands, and then you must put your palm right over the centre of the lock, I’ll say something and that should allow you to enter the trunk,’ he finished. The three flabbergasted friends did as they were told only, of course, they understood nothing of what Harry said before their hands glowed blue because he muttered his words in Parselmouth, snake language. Extra precautions, constant vigilance and all that. Someone could say Harry was the reincarnation of Alastor “Mad-Eye” Moody, bar the scars, naturally. Nothing could have prepared Ron, Ginny and Hermione for wait awaited them inside of the trunk, it was the exact copy of Potter Manor, with its grand corridors and ceilings, the magnificent library that had Hermione acting like a little girl, the massive bedrooms, the duelling room, the Potions laboratory, the infirmary… It had absolutely everything save for the Quidditch pitch and the swimming pool they had had a glimpse of at the real manor. ‘Come to my room, and don’t make too much noise over there — Kreacher’s cot is just next here, and I think he’s resting,’ Harry whispered to an ecstatic Ron in the kitchen. They entered the master bedroom and Ginny glanced at the massive bed so hungrily that even Ron, who was usually oblivious to everything that happened around him, noticed her reaction and elbowed her quite harshly, earning a death glare from her. They sat down on the bed while Harry went to open one of the wardrobes and extracted out of it what seemed like half of Madam Malkin’s. ‘Right,’ he said, dropping all of the clothes and other items on the mattress. ‘These black robes are all for you. They aren’t your normal robes, mind you, they are battle robes. I bought ten for each of you, but maybe we’ll have to buy eventually some more. Once you put them on, they’ll adjust to your size, so don’t worry about them not fitting you. Same goes for the cloaks, boots, etcetera,’ he said, barely taking any time to breathe. Ginny’s eyes were bulging out as she held a robe close to her, inspecting it. ‘But Harry, these must have cost you a fortune! This is dragon hide! It’s too much -’ He waved his hand dismissively. ‘I don’t care. You are all going to risk your lives for me, it’s the least I can do. So, moving on,’ he said, succeeding into killing any of the arguments he knew would break out if he remained quiet, ‘the next item I thought you’d need is a wand-holster,’ he told him, picking up a brownish leather tube and he strapped it around his right forearm. As soon as he placed his wand inside of it, they gasped — the wand-holster had vanished. He jerked his arm and his wand was shot directly at his hand and the holster reappeared. ‘Handy, isn’t it?’ he smirked at them. Hermione, Ron and Ginny could only nod, speechless. Oh, how was he going to shock them all with the next item. ‘So, now, I don’t want you, Hermione, to start complaining about the next gift, you are going to be taught how to do this properly. If Death Eaters set up Anti-Apparition and Anti-Portkey wards, the sky might be our only alternative to escape,’ he chided her gently, brandishing a shiny new broom in front of her. Both Ron and Ginny nearly fainted at the sight of the new broom. ‘Harry is that — a — a Th-Thunderflame?’ asked Ron in vivid disbelief. ‘Yes it is,’ he answered. ‘I got each of you one, so you’d better teach her how to fly, Ron. It could very well save her life one day,’ he told him softly, wanting him to understand that this was not a gift to enjoy, this was a gift to save their own skin. Ron nodded, suddenly serious and sober. ‘Okay, but can we fly tonight?’ he whined. Harry laughed with mirth. ‘Sure. Anyway, Kingsley will take you to the Ministry and set some special robes for you -’ ‘More robes?’ Ron asked. ‘Oh, these are unlike anything you’ve ever seen,’ he informed them, propping his weight on his elbows, lifting his legs to have them spread over the wide mattress. ‘They are Unspeakable robes.’ ‘What?’ cried Hermione, astonished. He grinned at her. ‘Unspeakable robes. You’ll just have to wait and see.’ ‘So, when are we going to London?’ Ginny inquired as she draped an arm over Harry’s abdomen and nested her head on the crook of his neck, blatantly ignoring her brother’s disapproving look. ‘What for? I already alerted Ragnok!’ asked Harry, flummoxed. ‘Tsk, tsk,’ Ginny tutted. ‘Harry, if you are now going to brand us with your Macho Man Mark, we must have a tattoo, musn’t we, Hermione?’ she asked her friend, who simply nodded. Ron whistled. ‘Mum’s going to kill us, you know?’ ‘Nah, don’t think so. I think she’ll end up getting one herself, too. Anyway, Ron, now you can fulfil your dream and get a Pygmy Puff tattoo,’ she told her brother seriously. ‘Ha-bloody-ha,’ Ron scowled while the other three howled with laughter. ‘But seriously mate, it’s your mark, you get to chose it. What do you want?’ Harry furrowed his eyebrows, deep in thought. Ron was right. If this was going to be a permanent thing, he had better chose something that represented him and not anyone else. His scar? No, bad idea. He hated was the scar symbolised, the fame, the fight against Voldemort, the death of his parents… and anyway, it was too much of a give-away. Snitches, broomsticks? No, too general. So what could it be, then? What was his and only his? Suddenly, something clicked in his brain. ‘A phoenix, a basilisk and a lion, all together.’ ‘How are you Harry? How are you truly?’ Harry slumped down on a chair in front of Dumbledore’s portrait, letting his exhaustion show for the first time. ‘All in, professor.’ Dumbledore smiled sympathetically at him, the twinkling from his eyes all gone. ‘I am truly sorry you have to go through this, Harry.’ He waved his hand dismissively. Not your fault. This is just — so overwhelming I can barely keep track of anything nowadays…’ ‘I know. In any other circumstance I am sure you would’ve been astonished at your own achievement, but in the light of what you know you will have to face, everything looks dwindled and insignificant, does it not?’ he asked shrewdly. Harry nodded. ‘It does. Everyone is making such a fuss about my wandless spell, the triple Animagi forms… but it just means nothing to me…’ ‘Understandable, Harry. But that does not mean you should hold your feats worthless, Harry, for they are truly wonderful and unexpected. I believe you have shocked dear Minerva so much she does not know anymore what to believe true and what to believe a lie,’ said Dumbledore, a hint of his old maddening twinkle back in his eyes. Harry chuckled lightly. ‘I know. But it just doesn’t make sense. I mean, Animagus forms represent your soul, so why do I have three, and what were all those things in my dream?’ Professor Dumbledore frowned in his portrait. ‘I can only give you my guesses, Harry. Although I do believe them correct and accurate, that’s all they are — guesses; forgive my lack of modesty, but they are the ideas of a very old mind brought with deep knowledge and quite a sum of brainpower,’ he told him gently. ‘I believe your true form would be the lion, which would obviously represent your most known trait: your outstanding courage. As for the phoenix and the basilisk, I believe those forms to have been recently acquired: you are the symbol of death and birth, Harry.’ ‘Merlin, that sounds so comforting,’ said Harry sarcastically. Dumbledore chuckled. ‘It is quite overwhelming that’s true. Alas, how do I wish Minerva to keep my old habit, Lemon Drops. They would most certainly help you right now, dear boy.’ ‘Concerning your dream; the forest, the lake, the castle — that was you. The endless forest represented your eternal soul and its infinity; the lake was the mirror of your angst, your fears, your anger; but the castle, oh how do I wish I could see that — the castle, Harry, that’s your mind. I can say in all honesty I am very proud indeed your mind took the form of Hogwarts castle.’ ‘That was my mind?’ Harry asked, deadpanned. ‘Indeed. As soon as you begin to get a firm grasp on Occlumency, I am positive it will appear to you. But enough of lessons, Harry. I want you to relax, Harry. You have not rested properly in a very long time, and exhaustion is apparent on you. Breathe, Harry, just breathe.’ ‘I just don’t know, Headmaster, I just can’t stop. All I do is work and study. I’m in a constant bad mood, I’m on edge all the time. I just want out…’ he whispered, lowering his head to rest on his hands. ‘I know the equinox is coming close, and only tomorrow students will be arriving at Hogwarts, and Professor McGonagall will be secluded working in her office most of the time, so this may well be the last time we see each other, professor,’ said Harry sadly, his voice breaking. ‘No, my brave dear boy. I believe you will succeed and we will see each other very soon, indeed.’ ‘Good morning Harry, Ron, Ginny, Hermione. Ready to take Teddy out today?’ ‘Yes Mrs Tonks,’ said Harry, taking the infant from her arms, marvelled at how much Teddy had grown in the short time they had been apart, grinning at the child’s attempt to make him smile, changing the colours of his faster than you could say “Quidditch”. After some pleasantries were exchanged and Teddy was properly dressed, they bid their good-byes to Mrs Tonks and told her they would return her grandson at seven in the evening. With that, they Apparated in front of Potter Manor and were greeted immediately by a pair of overjoyed house-elves, Tweedle-Dee and Tweedle-Dum. They were led into the massive sitting room were several blue couches were around and enormous fireplace, flanked at each side by armours, giving the room an air of protectiveness and fierceness. Harry sat next t Hermione and plopped Teddy on his lap, letting the kid play with his hair and glasses, smiling at the blatant display of innocence and trust Teddy showed him. He sighed sadly, wondering whether that would be the last time he’d be with the child or whether he would live many more years and get to know him. Would his parents’ counterparts be alive, somewhere? In which case, would they accept the kid and take it as their own, accepting Harry’s explanation? He knew the was a big chance he would never get to know his godson, and so he had left him a letter to open when he was older and explained what he would have to face to a disbelieving and teary-eyed Mr. Tonks. He could only hope his wish was granted and he would get to see the child grow up. Harry didn’t know, but whatever happened, he would consider Teddy as his own blood and flesh. Morning flew by in a gale of laughter and smiles, as Harry took Teddy for his first ride ever on a broomstick. He had promised Mrs Tonks he would take the infant with him and make sure he was perfectly safe before kicking off the ground. To say Teddy had enjoyed the ride would have been the understatement of the century. He had laughed, giggled and screamed in glee with every turn and dive Harry had done. As a godparent, Harry couldn’t help the surge of pride and joy that crept to his heart at the sight of his godson’s elated little face, and he knew, that somewhere, Remus and Tonks were smiling at the choice they had made when they appointed him Teddy’s godfather. Lunch had been an amusing affair for Teddy had wanted to eat absolutely everything the “grown-ups” were having, instead of his own and very boring baby food. The only problem was that Teddy seemed to be as clumsy as his mother had been, so the five of them had ended showered in pudding, shepherd’s pie and pumpkin juice. Later, after four friends had showered and magically cleaned their robes, they proceeded to bathe Teddy. However, that was easier said than done because, only hour later, it became apparent that the four of them had taken another bath while Teddy just laughed hysterically at the “adults”. All in all, it was a very good and refreshing day in the month of September. Early in the evening Harry had let his friends wander around the house to explore it whilst he chse to stay in the master bedroom with his godson. He plopped his head on the pillows and spread his legs over the comfortable mattress, having a perfect view through the window in front of him of the manor’s grounds. The then set Teddy on his stomach and played with the giggling child, holding both of his tiny fists and rubbing his nose against Teddy’s tiny one. He smiled sadly as his godson’s hair changed to vivid and spiky bubblegum-pink, remembering it had been his mother’s favourite ever hair-do. He felt terrible for Remus and Tonks, they wouldn’t know what amazing kid they had had and, even if their counterparts did, they would never be the same Remus and the same Tonks. For all he knew, they could both well be Death Eaters. He sighed, fatigued. Best not to brood on those dark thoughts, just concentrate on the kid’s smiling face. He was just so beautiful, so innocent, so wonderful… ‘Harry,’ a voice called. ‘Harry, wake up,’ someone was shaking him awake, Hermione, he thought. He opened his eyes and stifled a yawn. He grabbed his glasses on the nightstand and smiled at the toddler who had fallen asleep on his chest, gently sucking his thumb. He gently lifted him into his arms and followed Hermione out of the room, where Ginny and Ron were talking in hushed voices. ‘Time to go, Harry. Did you two have a good nap?’ Ginny asked, as she ruffled softly the sleeping boy’s hair, a twinkle in her eyes. Harry stifled yet another yawn. ‘It was excellent. I didn’t know I was that tired,’ he whispered, and Ginny rolled her eyes dramatically at him. Ten minutes later, Harry gave back his godson to Mrs Tonks, the epitome of sadness and despair on his face as he felt the tiny body leave his arms. Walking away, Ginny laced her fingers with his and kissed him on the cheek. ‘You’ll make a great father someday, Harry.’ He had never felt so proud in his entire life than at that precise instant. Ginny, Ron and Hermione had decided to stay a few tombs away, close enough to keep an eye on him should something unexpected occur, but far away enough to give him the privacy he needed. He bent down and planted a bunch of pink roses on Remus and Tonk’s tomb, as he traced his finger around the engraved letters. ‘You know, you have an amazing child. You would be so proud of him, he smiles and laughs all the time…’ he said quietly to the white graves. ‘I’m sorry, Remus. I’m sorry that after all you’ve suffered, you didn’t live long enough to know that little bundle of joy… Thank you for naming me his godfather, Remus, I’m so sorry I called you a coward. You aren’t one, of course you aren’t… You were — so brave,’ he whispered, tears falling on the fresh earth beneath him… ‘He’s so beautiful, Remus… So beautiful…’ He wiped his face with his sleeve and moved to the left where his parents’ graves were, and laid another bouquet of flowers, white lilies. ‘Hi mum, dad, it’s Harry. I know you can’t hear me,’ whispered Harry, his eyes leaking once again as he saw the names of his long gone parents before him, the people who had given their lives without any further thought to keep him alive, ‘but I just want to say that — I just want to say that I love you. Dad, I forgive you. I am sorry about what I felt when I saw that memory… You were brave, and I knew you really loved mum. I saw — your deaths… I know you couldn’t have killed him, but dad, why didn’t you keep your wand with you at all times? I felt so lonely without you… But you are my Patronus, dad, you are my guardian. I love you, dad’ he sobbed on the gravestone, pulling all of his childhood despairs onto the quiet tomb before him, letting all of the feelings of the solitary withdrawn and unloved little boy he had been pour out of him, tearing his heart in pieces. ‘Mum, you were the most beautiful and best mother ever. You would have lived if it wasn’t for me, I am sorry — Merlin am so sorry, mum… I love you so much… thank you for the life you have given me… I just — I just wish that none of this had happened. I just wish that you had lived and I had died in your place, I love you…’ Harry said finally and then uttered no more, he only cried and wept, blinded by grief, for the parents he never knew, for the broken lives that had given him everything, for the stories and laughs he would never hear about… Unbeknownst to him, up above, a shooting star soared brightly through the dark skies. The church clock struck twelve and then, before the disbelieving eyes of his friends, Harry ceased to be the Boy-Who-Lived, the Man-Who-Conquered, the living legend, Gryffindor’s Golden Boy, Quidditch Prodigy. Before the glowing graves of his parents, Harry Potter disappeared from the world as he knew it. DISCLAIMER: ‘yes, my preciouss, we wants it, we craves it’ Gollum says insanely, as he appears out of nowhere next to my laptop and Anatomy books, scaring the hell out of me. ‘Er, Gollum? Mr Smeagol?’ I ask tentatively. Gollum turns his nasty and, urg, smelly face to me and, oh my giddy aunt Francis, he just smiles wickedly at me, and I shiver involuntarily. Crikey, I’d take all the exams in the world if I could be saved from that image. ‘What is goofy girl doing here, Smeagol asks? We is knowing, oh yes we is, you is wanting to steal the preciouss from us, we is killing you,’ he says threateningly. Oh for Voldy-poo’s left nostril! His sticky and putrid long fingers are too close to my throat for my tastes. Plan B! Plan B! ‘Okay Gollum, I don’t want you preciouss — you can leave with it, I won’t move. What are you doing here anyway? You belong to Tolkien! Are you in league with Voldemort? But Voldie and all the Potter world belongs to JKR, I swear it on Snoopy! Just leave! Take everything you want from me, but leave my head!’ I scream. I knew it, I just knew it. My bloody studies have finally driven me loopy. Gollum stares at me blankly and then scurries away. Five minutes later, I get up and go to the kitchen. ‘I need a large whiskey.’ A/N: I am mental, I know, there’s no need for you to tell me that. Oh, before I forget, there’s a sentence I used in this chapter, “death, mayhem and all the things orange”, which I love but which is not mine. I think I read it on a fic at FFnet a long time ago, but I can’t remember it that well. So I apologise if I have taken it from the author, I just like that phrase way too much. So, what’s new? Nothing much, to be honest. Exams are getting way too close for my liking, so instead of being the usual party girl I am, I’ve become an isolated hermit over the past two weeks. Oh hell, I sometimes hate Medicine. Oh! I am one of Moxterminator’s “Erasing the Future’s” betas, so you might find some likeness between my Nostradamus text and a scene of his in chapter 44. Well, just to let all of you know in case some problems arise, he got the idea from my original text when I explained it to him via msn, so that’s it and all is well. As per suggested, I started a Yahoo! Group. There I will be able to answer anything you want. The link to it is on my profile page: May the force be with you, May you leave me a nice review, Cheers, Vermouth Member of the Siriusan Order |
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