My first submission on here, so let me know what you guys think.
Big thanks to the b3ta for this story, MinistryMalcontent.
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Harry Potter: Memento Vivore | ||||
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Category: Post-DH/AB Characters:All Genres: General Warnings: None Rating: PG Reviews: 4 Summary: How Harry begins the next phase of his life after the battle. (Memento Vivore = a reminder to life) Hitcount: Story Total: 3724 Disclaimer: Harry Potter Publishing Rights © J.K.R. Note the opinions in this story are my own and in no way represent the owners of this site. This story subject to copyright law under transformative use. No compensation is made for this work. Author's Notes: |
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Chapter 1 — The Final Task The trio gingerly descended the headmaster’s staircase, taking no notice of the grumbling gargoyle. Although Harry’s mind was firmly set on his bed, the weight of finishing it all was beginning to gnaw in his head. As he slowly turned around to face Ron and Hermione, the two stopped dead in their tracks. “What?” said Ron nervously, his eyes searching side to side expecting almost anything after their toils. “I think I should finish it now, before the questions start.” “Am I missing something here?” Ron blurted anxiously. “I think it’s a good idea Harry,” Hermione agreed, completely ignoring Ron’s question. “What should we start with first?” “This time it’s just me, guys. It needs to be,” Harry countered, raising his hand to forestall the pair interrupting. “Ron, your family needs you now; and Hermione, I need you guys to cover for me.” “How?” Ron asked. “Well, people are going to start working out about the Hallows and what we’ve been doing pretty soon. So I think if we make it look like I’ve hidden them, then there’ll be a lot less questions,” Harry stated. “I need you to let people know I’ll be bringing Snape’s body back, as well.” “Ok, but Harry, I think it might be a good idea to be seen in a few places around the country, to at least make it seem like you’ve been visiting possible hiding places for them,” suggested Hermione. “Another great idea, Hermione. I don’t know what I’d have done without you. In fact, I’ve never really thanked either of you.” “And you won’t have to, mate. Don’t even think about forgetting how many times you’ve saved us,” said Ron firmly. Harry looked from Ron to Hermione and back again, before grabbing them both in a hug that said more than words ever would. Harry left the pair, who now seemed inseparable after their kiss in the Room of Requirement, in the Entrance Hall, and made his way down towards Dumbledore’s resting place concealed by Ignotus’s present. The glowing warmth of the morning sun blazed down on his face. Harry tried not to look down or to notice the dark blood stains scattered across the lawns, but the more he tried not to, the more he thought about them. The more he thought about all the people who had died for him. With tears now cascading down his cheeks, Harry marched more sternly towards the tomb determined that there would be time to mourn once he’d finished his final task. Reaching the white tomb, he removed his cloak and stared at the devastation that had been laid upon it. Split in two, it reminded Harry of a ruin rather than the resting place of a great man. He removed the Elder Wand from its place in his moleskin pouch, and with his shaking hands, returned it to its original place between Dumbledore’s fingers. He used his own wand, already feeling warm and familiar in his hand, to repair the tomb. Gently resting his hand on the edge and touching it for the first time. But for the first time, Harry didn’t feel the guilt he had constantly felt surrounding Dumbledore’s death. Having Dumbledore explain his plan had made a huge difference to the guilt Harry had constantly felt. “Thank you. Thank you for everything you’ve done. You truly were the greatest wizard.” Harry spoke the words aloud, hoping that even though Dumbledore wasn’t there, he could still hear them. Harry took a moment, and then slowly drew his wand and etched, in the same handwriting he had done on Dobby’s grave, the words “Nitwit. Oddment. Tweak.” He paused for a moment, before setting off towards the gates of Hogwarts. His weary legs growing heavier by the step. Covering himself again with the cloak, he thought of which place to go first. A loud crack marked his appearance near the statue in Godric’s Hollow. A few wizards were nearby talking animatedly. Harry caught the odd word. ‘Potter……Dark Lord…..Dead …...Hogwarts.’ He carried on, walking heading towards his parent’s house. Taking in the sight of it, now lit by daylight, tears again began to creep from his eyes. He removed his cloak when he reached the gate, looking up at his parents' house. His house now. It was the first time he’d been back since he’s seen his parents' deaths through Voldemort's memories. He could see the window where his father had been playing with him. He knew he was standing exactly where Voldemort had stood. Tears were now flowing down his cheeks. He would have to enter the house some day, he had no choice. He didn’t know what to expect inside, only he knew it would provide closure. He sat down, crossing his legs, tears still welling in his eyes. He remembered what his parents had said to him in the forest: how proud they were of him, how they’d always be with him. He remembered what Dumbledore had said about the dead never truly leaving us. Those words he had thought could never make sense; until now, he reasoned. Now he knew what death was. He understood it, more than anyone living in the world; he had experienced it and came back. He was grateful for the time he’d been given, and the time he still had. Death was just the next great adventure. An adventure he’d already had, and would have again, but not just yet. He still had things to do with his life. He sat thinking of his life now; did it have a meaning now Voldemort was gone? He’d spent the last seven years preparing to do what he had to, and deep down he’d always thought it would end with Voldemort. He’d never properly given thought to what to do afterwards. Now he had all the time in the world to be normal, or as normal as he could be. He was now free to do what he wanted. He didn’t really need money, so he could find a job he’d enjoy. ‘I could play Quidditch professionally,’ he thought. ‘I am reasonably good.’ But Dumbledore’s words again stirred in his head. “It is important to fight, and fight again, and keep fighting, for only then can evil be kept at bay, though never quite eradicated.” He made himself a vow to not forget what Dumbledore had said. He sat there, thinking about the day previous, how exhausted it had made him feel, when he heard a slight noise maybe 20 to 30 yards behind him, and quick as a flash he span round, wand at the ready, only to be absolutely stunned. Around thirty people were gathered in a crowd some thirty yards away. Men, women and children, definitely witches and wizards from Godric’s Hollow, stood with shocked expressions clearly not expecting Harry to point his wand at them. How long had they stood there? Judging by the lower sun in the sky it was approaching late afternoon, he reasoned and if he’d been here over a couple of hours they could have been here quite a while. He lowered his wand, and a relief swooped over the crowd, as they smiled at him. “Sorry about that,” he muttered, before spinning on the spot and experiencing that twisting sensation in his stomach again. With a crack, he appeared in a back alley across the road from the Leaky Cauldron. He steadied his footing and approached the pub. Bracing himself for the reaction, he sped up and pushed the door open firmly. Without breaking stride he marched across the room. The patrons' reactions mixed between disbelief and joy at their hero entering the pub. “Good Lord, Harry Potter,” cried Tom, the barman. “Good afternoon, Tom. Can’t stop, very busy,” Harry said seriously and continued his march through the pub to the entrance of Diagon Alley. With a calculated tap of his wand, the wall opened to reveal the hidden Alley. He quickly put his cloak back on and began a slow wander down the Alley. Nothing had changed since he’d been here, yesterday on first appearance, anyway. As he looked closer, he began to see it. The people walked with a spring in their step, smiles on their faces and always time to greet one another. Some shops had begun to rip down Undesirable No.1 posters of him from their windows. As he approached Gringotts he felt a wave of guilt. The devastation he had caused was vast. The doors still hung loosely in their frame where the dragon had forced its way through them. Rubble was strewn all around the entrance, whilst the goblins were no longer visible from the outside. Guiltily he spun round and made back for the Leaky Cauldron. Although he knew perfectly well no one could see him, he wasn’t in any mood to be near Gringotts at this moment in time. He quickly passed through the Leaky Cauldron, again to a chorus of amazement, across the road, and into the alley before Disapparating once more. He landed with a crack, outside the Three Broomsticks, just as he had done nearly a year ago with Dumbledore. He quickly made his way inside, again like the Leaky Cauldron to people chorusing his name. “A firewhiskey please, Madam Rosmerta,” Harry asked. “Certainly, Harry” Harry looked around the room; every eye was upon him, intently staring, although he failed to recognize anyone. “There we go, Harry,” said Madam Rosmerta, smiling before adding, “oh no, this one’s on the house,” after seeing Harry reach into his pocket. “Thanks,” said Harry before draining the drink in one, placing two sickles on the bar anyway and exiting the pub into the warm afternoon air. He took a long, deep breath, before beginning his approach towards the Shrieking Shack. The door had been blasted off its hinges, which allowed Harry to continue his walk. Quickly making his way into the shabby hallway, he stopped outside the room he was looking for. He slowly pushed the door open, and there still lying in a pool of blood was the body of Severus Snape. Harry felt his throat tighten as he looked down upon the body. He knew that Snape would never be fully recognized for his sacrifice; that he would never get the respect his courage deserved from the rest of the Wizarding world, but at least Harry would give him the respect. Kneeling down, Harry transfigured a chair leg into a large blanket and draped it carefully over Snape’s body, before placing one arm under his neck and one under his knees and gently lifted him. Just like digging Dobby’s grave, every step he took spurred him on. He could feel the adrenaline rushing through his veins as he walked across the Hogwarts grounds towards the castle. As he reached the top of the steps and entered the castle, he wondered what everyone would be doing. He could hear the sound of a hundred quiet conversations, but he couldn’t smell food from the Great Hall which meant at least no one would be eating as he walked in. As he walked through the doors, the murmuring stopped immediately and every soul living or otherwise looked at him. People stood up. ‘Maybe as a mark of respect or simply to gain a better look,’ thought Harry. Only the sound of his slow, heavy footsteps could be heard as he carried Snape towards the front of the hall, where the top table normally stood. The table had been removed and in its place was a small platform where the rest of the dead lay. His eyes quickly found a sea of red hair at the end of the Gryffindor table as he approached the platform. Mr. and Mrs. Weasley looked solemn but proud. Charlie and Bill seemed to be slightly shocked, similar to the rest of the faces in the Hall. George didn’t seem to have even registered what was happening and just stared blankly ahead. Ron and Hermione stood hand in hand beaming at him. And then his eyes found Ginny’s. His heart skipped upon meeting her chocolate eyes; there were so many things he wanted to say to her, to explain everything. He stepped up onto the platform and carefully lay Snape down and made sure the blanket covered him fully and respectfully. He took a few moments' pause, and whispered, ‘Thank You.’ A simple recognition for what Snape had done, but he knew Snape wouldn’t accept anything more, especially from him. As he rose, he caught sight of the wrapped bodies surrounding him on the platform. Each carefully wrapped in a blanket. He looked round at each body, fully realizing just how much had been lost. As he stepped off the platform the toil of the past two days hit him. He managed a few steps before his legs began to falter. They were shaking uncontrollably. He struggled to keep his eyes from closing; his breathing began to slow into long deep breaths. Harry could see a small blur of red running towards him, as his legs gave way and he sank to his knees. Just as he began to topple forward a person was kneeling in front of him holding him up. “Ginny” he murmured. “I’m here Harry, I’m here,” she said. He could feel the exhaustion taking over his body, and he mustered every ounce of strength he had left to look her in the eyes. “Ginny, I love you,” he managed, before succumbing to the darkness. |
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