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Death of a Raven	By : dime Category: Harry Potter > Threesomes/Moresomes Views: 7805 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 1
Disclaimer: I do not own the Harry Potter book and movie series, nor any of the characters from it. I do not make any money from or intend any harm with the writing of this story.

Chapter List
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1.
Raven

Harry had been
reluctant to take the advice of a woman who sported bubblegum pink
hair. But Tonks had turned out to be a brilliant fashion advisor. Not
only was she more experienced at shopping for clothes - then again,
who wasn't? Barring his school uniform, Harry had never once shopped
for clothes in his entire life -, but she had also proven to have
wonderful taste where Harry was concerned. While he was still staring
at the gazillion items of clothing in the magical outlet store where
she had taken him, Tonks had already chosen three pairs of pants,
five shirts and some shoes for him, all of which fit and had the
added bonus of positively highlighting his slender built and the
colour of his hair and eyes.

With a trunk full of
new clothes on top of his usual school materials, Harry was finally
released from Tonks' clutches and now sat tiredly in the Hogwarts
Express. He locked the compartment door, determined to not even admit
Ron and Hermione. They would surely question him about his summer and
the events at the end of the school year. Hardly anyone knew the
details of what had happened, as was so often the case where Harry
was concerned.

But he wasn't ready yet
to tell his friends. Not before he had decided whether or not to tell
them about... about 'Raven'.

So he had chosen a
small compartment for himself, which he now barricaded with some
choice locking spells. No one would disturb his musings. He hunkered
down beside the window, switched on his magic-resistant discman
(courtesy of the Weasley twins) and closed his eyes.

Quickly, his mind flew
back to the night when Voldemort was vanquished, as they so often did
this summer. But it wasn't Voldemort he was thinking of. No, it was
the man he had met after the battle. At midnight, on top of the
Astronomy tower, with no witnesses...

---

"What may I call you?"

"Call me Raven."

"But Sir, didn't you say that was the name
that Voldemort...?"

"Yes Harry, I got this name from
Voldemort, and I have learned to hate it. 'Saviour without nobility,
without honour and without meaning' (AN:
this only works in German, where it's 'Retter' without 'Adel', 'Ehre'
and 'Bedeutung', i.e. RABE, which spells raven. If you drop the 'E',
it's RAB...). You should have seen how pleased the bastard
was when he realized he could form a derogatory acronym from the
initials he had assigned to me... But never mind how much I might
wish to still be the same person I once was - I am not. Voldemort has
been destroying me for decades, until I felt that nothing of myself
was left. And still he refused to let me die. Can you imagine how
painful it is to realize that even this choice is no longer yours to
make? That even this last resort has been taken from you?

"I was well acquainted with the beings
that live between here and beyond. Thanks to Voldemort's tender care,
I was a regular guest in the border realms between life and death."

Harry thought he detected a bit of self-mockery
in Raven's words, but neither his voice nor the veiled face gave any
hint as to what the man was really thinking.

"One day, I began to talk to those
not-quite beings, the demons and the undead that haunt those spheres.
I realized that they were the key to changing my situation. With
their help, a miracle happened for which I had long ago stopped
hoping. I slowly regained my power and eventually defeated my
tormentors.

"But it had cost me dearly. Those powerful
beings both dark and light, old gods and demons, beings for which
even the wizarding world does not have a name, do not give their help
freely. What Voldemort had left intact, they have taken. Harry, I
wear these rags because they are all that is keeping my body together
- those and the mighty dark magic which has taken the place of my
soul and is spreading through my whole being as we speak.

"Not much is left of the man I have once
been. Even on the risk that you might think me overly dramatic, I
have to say this: my clothes are like tattered plumage, in me is a
darkness blacker than the hopeless depth of winter, my voice has been
reduced to a hoarse croak and for all those who have ever been close
to me, to know me was to know death.

"Raven is my name, and for all intends and
purposes, that is precisely what I am.

"...And just so you know, there is no
reason at all to be polite towards me. None of that 'Sir' business,
Harry. I do not deserve that much respect, so please just drop it."

"But... you signed the note with 'RAB',
not 'Rabe'. Why?" And just who was this man?

"Actually, I did sign the thing as 'Rabe'
without a second thought. My former name has long since ceased to
exist. That is no longer who I am.

"But the 'E' wouldn't stick. It just up
and vanished.

"I have thought about it since and believe
I have found an explanation. As much as I hate to say it, for it
explains people's fear of the word 'Voldemort', there
is magic in names. I am without nobility here as much as I
ever was, and since I will not stick around for long, I have little
meaning. And I did some 'saving'. Thus the 'A', 'B' and 'R' took
hold. But what I came here to do is honourable, so the 'E' could not
be written. The strong concentration of magic in the cave did not
permit its existence.

"Still, Raven is how I think of myself. It
is all that is left of me..."

The man ponderously shook his head and Harry
had the fleeting impression of a white, sightless eye amidst burned,
red tissue. He shuddered. What hells had this man seen in his life?

'Raven' seemed to guess at his thoughts.

"Imagine Voldemort would have won. What
would he have done to you?"

"Killed me, I suppose."

"What makes you think that?"

"Well, for one thing, the prophesy..."

"Harry, does not the prophesy say that
'neither shall live while the other survives'? Tell me: Can you call
an existence on the brink of death and madness 'living'? What if one
of you had given up and wanted to die - and the other one had
denied him? Would you say that the suicidal one was truly alive
still?"

Harry pondered the theoretical possibility for
a while. Then his eyes widened in sudden realization.

"Oh...," he exclaimed softly. "You
mean he wouldn't have killed me?"

"What do you think?"

Harry didn't have to think long about this.
Voldemort was a sadist. If he truly loved anything in life, then it
was to see other people suffer.

No, Voldemort would not have killed him. He
would have made him suffer.

A lot.

Harry shivered. He noticed the old man's eyes
on himself, waiting for him to acknowledge this truth. When he was
sure that Harry understood what he was saying, he continued.

"Now, you can imagine what I have been
suffering during the last five decades."

This made no sense. Half a century? But
Voldemort had been more dead than alive for fourteen years. How could
he have tortured anyone?

Raven didn't seem to notice Harry's puzzled
expression, or if so, he chose to ignore it.

"Voldemort had made it a national sport to
come up with new ways of torture. Those who managed to torture me in
effective and exciting new ways rose in his favours. There was a
fierce competition among his Death Eaters, especially those of the
Inner Circle, who wanted to further their own designs by pleasing
their master with new inventions.

"Macnair was a fan of Muggle torture
devices. He used hot irons, Spanish boots, a rack, knives and
needles. Malfoy figured out how to combine Cruciatus with other
curses to achieve an even uglier result. Rookwook introduced Muggle
diseases into the game. I fondly remember the time when I was
infected with leprosy, aids and the pestilence at the same time, for
during those two years, no sane person wanted to touch me. Of course,
that did not prevent the more twisted Death Eaters from
putting...things...into me in order to humiliate me. But at least I
did not have to suffer their moans when, turned on by my sufferings,
they came in my mouth or my arse."

Harry sucked in a sharp breath. He had only
ever heard of Muggle methods of torture and Muggle diseases, and
while he had personally experienced the Cruciatus, it had never been
for extended time periods. He could not truly imagine what Raven had
been through. Of course, the same was true for rape. Still, it was
this quite possibly lesser evil that finally drove all colour from
Harry's face and made him gasp in shock. Though maybe it should have
been obvious, until now, he had never truly pondered what it meant if
Death Eaters attacked a village and 'assaulted their victims'.

Raven was quiet. He seemed to be reliving the
horrors of his past and Harry did not know what to do. He dreaded the
man's further words, but he was also relieved when the tense silence
was finally broken.

"You know, it was considered polite to
clean up after oneself. This meant that whoever broke me had to fix
me afterwards. Voldemort was quite
displeased if he had to use his considerable powers to yank
me back from the brink of death for the umpteenth time, denying me
the salvation his Death Eaters had very nearly granted. The Death
Eaters were quick to learn that the should not do anything to me they
could not personally undo.

"Thus, the Inner Circle turned into some
of the world's best Healers. I must say it is a waste that all that
knowledge will be lost after my death. St. Mungo's would have a field
day if they were to know all the spells and potions that have
accumulated over the years: I had cancer, aids, leukemia, lost limbs,
poisoning, all kinds of inner and outer bleeding...

"Unfortunately, my time here is drawing to
an end. I have been able to convince the beings of the in-between to
help me defeat Voldemort and make an announcement to the world..."

"What kind of announcement?"

"I appeared to them in the sky, telling
them I had finally fulfilled my destiny. Everyone knew that I had
failed before, since Voldemort never left out a chance to put me on
display at meetings and gatherings of an official nature; naked and
chained, humiliated and utterly helpless."

Raven was still talking in a monotone, as
though his words did not concern him at all. Harry wondered whether
the old man was even capable of showing, of feeling
emotions any more.

"At some point, I learned to stop caring
when they ripped off my fingers, or ears; burned them, or otherwise
destroyed them. Of course, I still felt their torture every waking
minute; there is no getting used to such excruciating pain. Only my
tongue was safe, Voldemort enjoyed my screams too much. Anything
else, though... And yet my torturers always knew how to reverse the
damage. I could count on them to give me back what they had taken.
The debilitating panic that gripped me during the first few years
whenever they ...took away... some part of me, the fear of never
getting it back, of being crippled for life, slowly faded. Now, I
merely gritted my teeth (unless I had lost them in some way just
previously) against the pain and nausea and waited for my arm, my
leg, whatever they had taken, to be returned.

"Then one day it wasn't.

"At first, I thought it a new kind of
torture to make me live for a few days without my arm; thought that
the Death Eaters had discovered a way to reattach limbs even after
many days have passed. But I had been wrong. Voldemort must have
noticed my growing apathy and decided that I would not get this arm
back.

"Of course, I have seen it many times
afterwards; how could they possibly have passed up such a wonderful
torture device? But I remained one-armed ever since. Apparently,
after more than ten years of captivity, my possession of a fully
functioning body was no longer deemed amusing or necessary.

"Once again, I was scared beyond reason
when they threatened to take away my legs, my penis, my nose...
Voldemort was radiating satisfaction.

"But even this, even the horror inherent
in the loss of any body part, eventually faded into numb acceptance.
I lost my right hand and left leg; the latter was eventually replaced
by a magical prosthesis from the knee down, so I would not
overbalance when on all fours. After that, I once again drifted off
into apathy. Pain was pain, and I had long since given up all hopes
of ever being free again. My body was not my own. Which difference
did it make whether it was fully intact?

"After another twenty years had gone by,
my appearance ceased to matter to Voldemort much as my...
completeness had. More and more often, he failed to heal the scars he
loved to inflict with fire, knives and vicious beatings. His Death
Eaters observed their master as closely as ever and did not fail to
follow his example. The last few years of my captivity were a
constant downward spiral. I suppose that after close to fifty years,
Voldemort simply got bored with his favourite toy. Little by little,
my body fell apart, deteriorating towards the point where even my
last cell would soon crumble and come to dust.

"And still, Voldemort refused to let me
die.

"Probably he would have kept me alive even
when nothing but my brain was left. But that, we will never find out
now.

"I would not have told you all of this,
were it not necessary for you to understand why I eventually
considered nothing to be sacred any more, not even my own soul. For
truly, what worth is there in a soul that has both suffered and
caused such shame?"

"What do you mean?"

"Well, Voldemort would never have been
satisfied with merely torturing my body. My mind had to be made to
suffer just as strongly. He has broken me, more thoroughly than I
ever thought possible. There have been days when I was simply put
into my cell and left there, and it was torture. After being tortured
for so long, even the absence of the torturers was painful, for I had
gotten used to and took comfort in the knowledge that there was a
certain routine to my pain. Take away that routine and all that is
left is the pain. Even now that I am for all intends and purposes
bodiless, I miss the pain that used to anchor me to reality. I am at
last truly homeless, adrift, and now that I have accomplished my
task, I will soon leave this world, as well.

"But I digress. You want to know my
shame?"

'This world'? What is
he saying? Harry's train of thought was utterly annihilated by
Raven's next words and all that was left was shock and horror.

"I have killed. I have tortured, maimed
and raped."

Was this true? Harry numbly listened to Raven's
monologue, not knowing himself why it was so important to him, but
hoping desperately that the man would take back those words.

"Voldemort had always made the hunt for
rebel wizards his top priority. Every time an Auror or a member of
the Order of the Phoenix was captured whom I knew personally -"

First the prophesy
and now the Order? Was there any secret Raven did not know
about? Who was this man?!

"- those people were brought to me. I had
to kill them in whichever way Voldemort dictated.

"My first victim was my best friend.
Voldemort commanded me to cut out his heart with a knife.

"I refused.

"I never refused again. Not because my
heart was cut out instead; I knew they would put it back in time, and
the pain was no worse than the previous day when I had been made to
eat my own thumb.

"Nay, it was the consequences for my
friend that convinced me to never refuse the chance to kill a friend
with my own hands again.

"They took him. I was sure they would kill
him now. But then I saw him again, a month later. Broken, soiled,
closer to death than life - in short, he looked just like me. They
raped him in front of me. And through it all, he looked at me, with
eyes that seemed to ask why I hadn't killed him. The question
remained unuttered for he had already lost all capability of speech.
Two months later I was given the same choice once again. I rammed the
knife into his chest with all my might. There was no hesitation. Thus
died my best friend."

Harry's eyes swam with unshed tears. What this
man had suffered! If he imagined having to kill Ron with a knife...
His eyes broke and the tears flowed freely.

"You have tears..."

For the first time, the man's voice did not
sound apathetic; Harry would have thought he sounded awestruck,
nearly reverend.

"It feels like forever since I forgot how
to cry..." Then he picked up his sad tale again.

"My first and best friend was soon
followed by others: former classmates, teachers, Aurors, members of
the Order... I killed them all, every time a nastier death. They
looked at me, hurt and reproachful. They did not know what would
happen if I refused to kill them. And I never told them. Why should
I? It was enough that I knew how much they would have suffered had I
refused. Maybe for years. After the experience with R... - with my
best friend, I never challenged my luck again. Not at their expense.
Even when the 'executions' became public, so the world could see
their prophesied saviour murdering his friends and acquaintances in
cold blood, I just kept going. I did not have the strength to once
again see a friend suffer so much, only to give the world hope with
my refusal. Who needed hope when all was lost?

"I have to thank the Death Eaters' love of
bragging, for without their tales of the tortures they inflicted on
me, no one would have found out that I had no choice in what I did.
Only because of those rumours was it possible that people believed me
when I announced to them that Voldemort was finally dead for good.
When I appeared to the wizards of Britain and the other countries
unto which Voldemort had extended his reign, which included big parts
of Europe and Asia, they knew that something had changed.

"Voldemort does not have a sense of
humour. He would not have given me clothes and let me announce to the
world that they were free of him just for fun.

"And so they believed me. I only stayed
long enough to make sure that the world's wizards truly were
courageous enough to turn against the ruling Death Eaters, hunt them
down one by one and make an end to the decades of despotism and fear.
They fulfilled my expectations and more. After only a few hours, more
than half of Voldemort's followers had died. the rest of them were
fleeing in mindless panic, for Voldemort's protective wards had
fallen and they were exposed to the people's wrath for the first
time.

"I could not stay to watch the hunt until
its very end. The Shadows were urging me to leave that world behind
and go on to the second part of our trade."

"There was more?" Harry had stopped
trying to figure out who the other man was. Something was telling him
that maybe he really didn't want to know. Instead, he focussed
completely on the man's tale.

"Well, I could expect a good service for
what I had to offer. After all, I promised those beings my past and
my future, my knowledge, my power and... my soul."

"WHAT?!"

"I sold my soul. I have told you so
before."

"Well yes, but... you meant that
literally?!?"

"I did. You know, it is not a great loss,
really. Once they have taken me apart, nothing, absolutely nothing
will remain of me. I will simply fade. I have been dreaming of this
for so long..."

For the second time tonight, there was a hint
of emotions in Raven's voice. But the moment was over so fast that
Harry later wondered whether he had not simply imagined the longing
in the man's tone. Already, Raven was speaking again.

"Voldemort's death was one of my
conditions. But I had another. During my time in the realms between
here and beyond, I found out that there is more than one world, more
than one existence. Take Hermione, for example."

"How do you know Hermione?!"

"That is of no consequence. The important
fact is that during third year, Hermione was given a time-turner. I
am sure you remember, after all, this is how you saved your
godfather."

The man was becoming eerier by the minute.
Harry hung on to his words and tried to grasp what the other was
telling him. Parallel universes? All right - after what else the
man had told him tonight, this was not the most shocking of ideas,
for sure.

"Every time you use a time-turner, a new
world is created. In the world where you were born, you might have
died already; or maybe Voldemort never returned. For possibly someone
grabbed a time-turner and undid what happened that night nearly
seventeen years ago in Godric's Hollow. Still, this reality remains the
same; only for that one person who went back in time, the future has
changed. That person now lives in a world created by their reshaping
of the past."

He paused and gave Harry time to consider the
concept.

"You mean this world is hundreds of worlds
away from my original... reality?"

"Not quite. You see, every hour that
Hermione went back changed her options, her knowledge, her path into
the future. But should it later turn out that this hour makes no
difference at all in her personal development and in the greater
scheme of things, then it has been known for related worlds to
reunite. Still, in principle, you are correct: Each time Hermione
turned her hourglass, a new reality came into being. You exist in
both of them."

Harry had the mental image of a snow globe
which contained Hogwarts; on the grass in front of the castle lay
another snow globe which contained Hogwarts; and in front of the
castle... But no, Raven had said that the entire world was changed by
each journey into the past. Again, an image formed in Harry's mind.
This time, it showed his immediate surroundings, but the edges of all
things were fuzzy, as though one reality was overlaid by another, and
another. Four lines, five, six, some on top of each other, some
separated by several meters... Still the image was deficient.

The idea of parallel universes was hard to
grasp, harder still since it was more than just theory if Raven was
truly a traveller between the worlds as he had said. But if this were
true, then everything else he had said might also be true...

Harry felt sick.

Raven decided to end his sufferings. "Best
not to think about it too much. After all, it doesn't really concern
you what goes on in other worlds. Nobody can cross the borders
between the universes."

"Except for you."

Raven looked a lot more serious now. Harry
didn't know how he could tell, what with the hood and veil, but the
feeling he got from the man was tense and focussed. "I am like
everyone else, I cannot cross the borders under my own power. You
must understand that once I realized I could finally defeat
Voldemort, I had already lost everyone I had ever wanted to protect
and my world had been ruined by war and oppression. I know people
will be able to rebuild, and yet... When I heard of the parallel
realities, I had that burning desire to make sure that there was one,
at least ONE, where Voldemort fell at the point where he defeated me.

"This is why I am here. With the help of
those beings to whom I have sold my soul, I have collected the
Horcruxes and destroyed them one after the other. I have watched the
Death Eaters. I was there during the encounter on top of this very
tower. That was the hour when I had been defeated. Dumbledore had
fallen and it was draining the school's wards. They grew weaker every
day. One week later, it was all over. I was captured, the Ministry
destroyed and Hogwarts firmly in the hands of the Death Eaters. It
was Dumbledore's death that started it all, and Dumbledore's death
was what I now chose to prevent.

"It was me who caused Voldemort to blow
caution to the wind today and make a personal appearance when his
plans seemed to fail. Only my interference kept this world from
suffering the same fate as mine did.

"And now, it's up to you, Harry."

Raven's cloak seemed to slowly pulsate with
dark light. Shadows were flickering around him. Darkness came from
inside him and at the same time wrapped itself around him from
without.

"Now, it is up to you to enjoy life and to
do all the things I never could. Be a child. Be a man. Be your own
master. Be free. Live, Harry Potter."

Harry gulped.

"Who are you?"

Raven silently looked at him for a long time.
Then he asked: "Do you really want me to tell you? I know you
have already guessed the truth, but you still have the option to tell
yourself it is not so. Do you really want me to say it out loud and
make it so much more real?"

Harry swallowed painfully once more. His throat
seemed too dry to speak. But he pushed away his doubts and answered
with a firm "Yes!"

"I was you, Harry. A long time ago, I was
Harry Potter."

---

Harry bent forward and slowly drew the veil
from the man's face. Raven put up no resistance. Harry gently pushed
back the hood. The cloak opened and slid off the man's shoulders.
Raven simply sat and gave Harry time to look at him.

Sightless white eyes stared at Harry out of a
cratered face riddled by countless scars and festering wounds.
Instead of a nose, there was merely a hole through which Harry could
see dark, slowly turning mist. The man had no ears or hair. The right
arm was missing, in its place there was the same dark mist that also
'replaced' the man's nose.

Raven had not lied when he said that only the
dark powers of the old Gods and demons were holding his body
together: large parts seemed to be missing, dark mist was all that
kept the wounds closed and gave shape to the mangled body. Yet on
Raven's forehead, amidst countless burns and other testaments to the
decades of his captivity, one fine white line stood out: a thin,
lightening-bolt shaped scar.

"You are... me?"

"Yes, Harry. If Voldemort had won, fifty
years from now you would be just like me."

Harry turned around and vomited.

---

It took a long time for Harry to
calm down, but eventually, he managed.

"I understand that you cannot
deal with this as you are now. I will grant you a few weeks to get
used to the idea." Raven murmured a quiet spell and Harry felt
his angst and confusion dwindle.

"What did you do?"

"I made sure that you won't
break under the weight of this new knowledge. This spell will protect
you. Everything I have told you today, as well as whatever else I
might choose to tell you, is in your head and if you absolutely want
to, you can access that knowledge. However, unless you purposely
single it out, the larger part of this conversation will remain
hidden to your concious thought. Little by little, you will
'remember' things during the coming weeks, so you have a chance to
slowly get used to it all. It must have been quite a shock to hear it
all at once, but I just don't have the time, I needed to tell you
fast. This way, it will not damage your psyche too badly. You will
learn how to deal with all the evil I have told you about this
night."

"Thank you," Harry said a
bit uncertainly. Raven nodded. Then he reached behind his head an
pulled his hood back up. Harry made no comment - he was relieved
not to have to look into this face any longer. A face, so similar to
his own, and yet so cruelly changed. Yes, he had recognized his own
features in amidst the scarred tissue that had once formed a human
face. It wasn't just the scar; it was the form of his cheekbones (as
far as that could still be determined, anyway), of his eyes (even
though they were little more than lifeless white marbles)... all
things considered, it was a feeling rather than any tangible feature.
A feeling that told him with absolute certainly what his eyes could
merely guess: That this man was indeed himself - Harry Potter, as he
would look at the age of seventy had Voldemort not fallen this very
day.

Suddenly, Harry understood why the
Dark Lord had to die such an unusually cruel death. He had been
shocked by Raven's actions at the time, but he could no longer blame
him for them. Rather, he felt a shameful wish that Voldemort had
suffered even more.

Raven once again seemed to have
guessed his thoughts.

"Harry, I've had my revenge. I
was merciful towards your Voldemort, because mine already... but it
is unnecessary to speak of that."

Harry was trembling as he considered
that his Voldemort's
death had been the merciful variant. What might the shadow beings
have done to the other one? A hard quality to Raven's voice however
convinced Harry to heed the man's wishes and ask no further.

"Voldemort is dead and gone.
The wizarding world now has the obligation to make sure that never a
sick dictator like him can rise to power again. It also has the task
to catch and properly punish the remaining Death Eaters. After
Voldemort's demise, they should be week and easy to destroy. YOUR
task, however, will be to leave behind all thoughts of revenge and
for once really enjoy life.

"You know, I've changed your
world for very selfish reasons. I wanted there to be a...a Me...who
has a chance to be happy."

Harry was crying again. A steady
stream of tears sprung from the corners of his eyes, pearled down his
cheeks and silently dripped onto his robes.

"Do not be sad. Do not burden
yourself with vengeance and hatred. Forgive those who are deserving
of your forgiveness, and just forget the others. It is not your place
to turn into a soulless spectre of revenge. I have suffered enough
for two people; now, you must be happy enough for the both of us."

Harry sobbed. It took him a while to
utter a confused question: "But... why now? Why not change my
life earlier? Then I would have been happy for so much longer-"
He stopped himself hastily when he realized his question sounded like
the accusation of a petulant child. He had really only been curious.
Raven, however, didn't even seem to notice the reproachful wording of
the question. Or maybe he was simply used to blaming himself for all
that was wrong in the world. At least that's what it had sounded like
when he had told Harry how he had killed his best friend - Ron!,
Harry realized with horror.

"I would have intervened sooner, had it
been possible. But it seems that my shredded soul was not valuable
enough for that. I could not change history from the point of
Voldemort's attack on your parents. But at least I could persuade the
daemons to bring me to the latest possible point in time where you
still had a chance at happiness. I was not stupid enough to further
haggle with them. The next larger deal would probably have involved
not just my soul, but yours, as well."

Both Harry and Raven shuddered.

Maybe Harry was mistaken, but it seemed to him
that the other man was showing more and more emotions. The dark light
he had noticed earlier was pulsing more strongly now and seemed to
fill out the entire space below the cloak. If Harry were to lift the
hood again, would he see the horribly mutilated face again - or
just darkness?

Raven was waning. Slowly, but surely, he was
fading away and soon he would have left not only his own, but also
this world behind for good.

Suddenly Harry remembered something his older
self had said a while back.

"Raven, could you teach me the Healing
spells you have...learned?"

Raven hesitated. "Harry, those spells will
only be effective together with the correct wand motions. What is
more, there are different cures for the different stadiums of a
disease or injury. If I wanted you to get any use out of my healing
memories, I would also have to give you the memories of the precise
injuries and exactly how they had been caused. There are too many to
store them in a Pensieve. There's a spell... I could implant all
those memories in your brain. But this would mean that you would
remember all the pain I have suffered - as thought it were your
own."

Harry looked at him in dismay.

"You lost hold of your dinner just because
of my tales. I can imagine what actually remembering
the events would do to you. It is my utmost priority to see
you happy. Making you deal with my memories is rather opposed to this
aim. Thus, my answer must be No."

Harry felt anger rise within him. He wished he
hadn't shown such weakness earlier. How could he live in happy
innocence when he knew all around him people were dying of diseases
he could have known how to cure? How could Raven demand that he be so
egoistic?!

Of course, he knew where the man was coming
from. Raven had sold his soul
to see Harry happy. How could he deny him this wish? After all, Raven
had helped him defeat Voldemort. Without his help, Harry would soon
be... Best not think of it.

But no, this was exactly the attitude that had
led to his current dilemma. His inability to deal with Raven's past
was why Raven had declined to share his memories with Harry. But was
Harry really too weak to handle Raven's experiences?

After all, he had not had an easy life himself.
One trial had followed the other, yet he had never given up. Whatever
it was that Raven's memories held in store for him, he was sure that
with the help of Raven's earlier protective spell, he would be able
to handle it. Maybe he could do it in a way that Raven didn't notice.
Then the man would not be disappointed.

"Legilimens," Harry whispered.

Raven's hood fell back as he jumped up with a
scream and grasped Harry's shoulder. "HARRY! What have you
done?!" He shook Harry harshly, then he broke down and sobbed.

Harry did not answer.

He was caught in the whirlwind of memories he
had encountered in Raven's head. Raven had been totally unprepared.
Harry had run straight into the space which, in other people's heads,
was reserved for their innermost wishes and fears, their most secret
desires, hopes and pains.

Not here. Where Snape tended to protect even
his most inconsequential thoughts with layers upon layers of walls
and defences, all Harry found in Raven's head were debris and decay.
Even had he tried to defend his mind, Harry was positive that the man
would not have been able to. For the first time, Harry understood
what it meant to break a man's spirit. Physical rape had not been the
worst that had happened to this older Harry, not by a long shot. They
had raped his innermost, hidden self, had torn it open so thoroughly
that it now lay open and bleeding, exposed to the world with no
protection whatsoever.

Harry had no time to ponder this tragedy for
long, however.

His whole sense of self was suddenly swept away
by the pictures of torture, humiliation and inhuman suffering, a
sense of helplessness and pain like he had not known even in his
worst visions and nightmares. It filled him until he was sure he
would explode and was only one step away from going utterly and
irrecoverably insane. The finally Raven's protective spell subdued
the raging onslaught of memories and sent Harry into blissful
darkness.

---

"Harry?...Harry!"

The voice sounded frightened and
agitated.

Harry struggled to open his eyes and
raise himself up on his elbows. The world turned around him and with
a dull 'Thud.' he fell back onto the hard stone floor.

Stone floor?

Slowly, his memory returned. The
voice guiding him in his battle against Voldemort. The spell it had
whispered in his ear. Voldemort's horrible end. The secret meeting on
the Astronomy Tower at midnight. Raven, telling him in a frightening
monotone about the hell that had been his 'life' for more than fifty
years.

Raven - Harry Potter.

Then their fight over the healing
spells and finally...

"Oh my God! I am so sorry!!!
Please, you have to believe me! I did not know that... Well alright,
so maybe I should have known that your mind would be fairly
defenceless, but, I really didn't want all of your thoughts, your
fear and... oh God... I only wanted to look for the healing spells
and make a quick retreat. I didn't... I had.... I am sorry."

The last was said in little more
than a whisper.

Silence.

Slowly, Harry raised his head.
Raven was kneeling in front of him, the hood lying around his
shoulders, veil slipped out of place and a strange expression
covering the scarred face.

"Harry... Do you feel guilty
now?"

"How can you ask that?! Of
course I do!"

"Do you think you will be able
to use or pass on the knowledge you have taken from me?"

"Erm... well, yes. Your spell
is currently keeping it from me, but I am sure that in a year or so,
I will have access to it... Why do you ask?"

"If there was a way for you to
undo this, would you want to?"

Harry felt pole-axed. What was Raven
telling him? Could he relieve Harry of his horrible knowledge? Would
he do it? Would Harry want him to? What if he lost the knowledge, yet
Raven still remembered his betrayal? Wouldn't that be even worse? He
could not do that! Impossible!

"I would love to take back the
attack on your unprotected mind. It was uncalled for and rude. The
knowledge, however, I want to keep", he mumbled uncomfortably.

Raven seemed surprised. Or at least,
that was the impression Harry got. The man's features were as
unreadable as ever, black mist twirled in ominous curls around him,
yet Harry had the strong feeling that Raven was increasingly allowing
him to see through the outer appearance.

"You are not sorry to have my
life in your head?"

"No... it is also my life. It
is the life I would have had if you hadn't saved me from that fate.
I'll be forever grateful to you for this. No matter what you say, you
are a true saviour. You do have meaning. You have honour. And really,
who needs nobility anyway?

"You know what? I won't call
you Raven any longer. Now that I know who you really are, have seen
how your whole terrible life has passed, I cannot in good conscience
call you Raven any more. Between the two of us, you are the true
hero. You are a role-model for me -"

"Why?!"

"You never gave up on the
people of your world, even though there was no one left you knew or
cared about. You could have simply begged deliverance from the
shadows, yet you chose to destroy Voldemort and set the people of
both your world and mine onto the right path before you will allow
yourself to fade. I know now what you did. You have mourned every
friend you lost even when you had no tears left to cry. You have
forced yourself to cruelly kill Hermione, Malf- I mean Draco,
Neville, and so many others, only to spare them a much more terrible
death. And that despite the feeling of murdering a part of yourself
every time. You even sometimes distracted the Death Eaters from their
other victims, lessening their pains through your own. You can tell
me about your sins all you want, but I know that for me, you are a
hero. You are so strong... You are how I want to be. You are no black
raven. You are still Harry Potter."

Raven seemed to slump down at
Harry's words. When Harry finished speaking, the old man was sitting
with his cloak wrinkled around his cowering form on the stones of the
tower, his thin body wracked by heart-rendering sobs. "Thank
you...thank you...!"

"For what?" Harry asked,
bewildered.

Raven slowly pulled himself back
together. His white eyes seemed to stare at Harry when he spoke.
"Harry. I have suffered alone for fifty years. I have always
reproached myself for not being stronger. For failing. I blamed
myself for every death, every injury, every loss that Voldemort
caused. For it was I who should have stopped him. At some point, I
forbid myself to have feelings, for I was not worthy... You are the
first person to ever tell me that I did the right things. I feel like
you have vicariously forgiven me for all the people I have
disappointed. I...maybe all this is nonsense, but I... Thank you for
accepting me. Thank you for your kind words. They have set me free. I
thought I no longer possessed feelings, but look! Here they are... No
longer am I aware only of pain. There is hope, and sadness, and
even... what is this feeling? For so long, I have not... what...?"

Harry gave the other man a puzzled
glance. What was going on with him?

"I believe you did more than
just take when you were in my head, Harry. You have also given me
some of your memories. My memories. I had forgotten all about that,
it was so long ago... But it is all coming back now, like it was only
yesterday. My friends... my Hedwig..." Tears rolled down the
older Harry's cheeks. It looked grotesque, this bloody liquid sliding
down a cratered ruin of a face. And yet the sight gladdened Harry,
for it was proof that even this man, who had thought his heart lost
so many years ago, still had feelings. Harry drew hope and courage
from the sight. It showed him that there could never be only evil in
the world. Where there is shadow, there is also light...

"Harry," the older man
interrupted his thoughts, "do you remember Ron's face when he
got his festive robes? And how Moody turned Draco into a ferret?
That... that was..."

And suddenly he was laughing.

It was a liberating, contagious
laughter and Harry felt himself drawn in. Only too well did he
remember Ron's utter shock; it really had looked funny. "And
Snape with the vulture hat," he added. The other man laughed
even louder, then he snorted: "Umbitch on the twins' last day of
school!"

Harry giggled madly and provided yet
another happy memory: "Lucius Malfoy, when I freed Dobby."

Both men laughed.

It was a really strange dialogue,
for both felt like they were talking with themselves. This time, the
conversation was about things they had both experienced. It was a
bonding experience like none other and when they finally calmed down
a long time later, all accusations and sorrow were forgotten.

Harry first spoke again. "I am
happy that you are still able to laugh."

"Same here. With my memories,
you can easily lose your laughter."

"I can handle it. And I have
your spell to help me."

"I believe you. Besides, you
have friends. And teachers. And soon, maybe even... but that, you'll
have to see for yourself." The lip- and nearly toothless mouth
unbelievably curled into a smile.

"Well, what?" Harry
bemusedly asked.

"I'm talking about love, Mr.
Genius!"

"Love?"

"Yes. You know, that thing
where two people like each other very very much and...I'm sure you've
heard of it."

"Idiot!" Harry playfully
swatted his older self. Immediately, he winced guiltily. "I am
so sorry! That must have hurt, what with your skin totally
unprotected and..."

"Bah, drop it," the older
man waved his worries aside,"anything that hurts less than a red
hot iron will have a hard time impressing my nerves, unless Voldemort
or one of his more skilled Death Eaters is manipulating them. Those
devils should all be dead in my world by now, and well on their way
to Azkaban in yours, so chances are that I won't ever feel pain again
- more than what I have been feeling constantly over the last few
decades, that is...Anyway, don't worry about it. I will be fading
soon."

This time, Harry was sure there was
longing in the voice of his doubleganger.

"But back to our previous
topic. Love. I may have given you the chance at happiness, but
whether you use it - that will be up to you. I fear it might not be
easy for you."

"What? Why?"

"I don't want to tell you too
much. Where would be the fun in that?"

"Hey!" Harry
mock-complained with a laugh.

'Raven' Harry grinned. "I'll
only tell you this. I was surprised that the deaths which hurt me
most were not those of the people I had previously thought to be the
most important in my life. I guess such things are always much
clearer in hindsight..."

"What are you saying?"

"I am trying to tell you that
love and other emotions do not always grow strongest where we would
have them. You need to keep an open mind, do you hear me? Or you
might lose the chance at something incredibly precious..."

"Won't you say any more about
this?"

"No. This is yours to find
out."

Harry playfully rolled his eyes as
though in despair. The other Harry laughed. Now that he was openly
showing emotions, he felt even more...familiar... to Harry. It was
nearly like having a twin brother. Only this twin was over fifty
years older and looked barely human any more. But why nit-pick such
minor issues?

"Harry... Can't you stay?"

A serious look. "No, Harry. I
died more than fifty years ago and have been suspended in limbo all
that time, waiting for Death to finally take me home. Now, I am given
the unique chance to completely fade from this plane of existence. No
bad memories, no guilt, no pain... It is better than any description
of heaven I have ever heard. - Hey, don't be sad. You have to be
happy for the both of us, remember?"

Harry looked at him thought his
tears. "You are right." A hesitant smile played with the
corners of his mouth. "After all, the love of my life is waiting
for me somewhere out there, right?"

"That's the spirit!"

For some minutes, they simply stood
and looked at each other. Then the older Harry calmly nodded at his
personified past and future. Harry realized that 'Raven' had
unwittingly cheated the shadows: he had committed his soul into their
hands, and yet a part of him would live on in Harry. A much larger
part even than he had originally intended.

"Farewell."

The pulsing darkness around the
older Harry was steadily increasing. Soon, his face and torso seemed
to be radiating black light from within.

"Farewell," Harry
answered. "You will be remembered."

Darkness engulfed the man who had
once been Harry Potter. Then the fog seemed to implode. A small,
black bubble seemed to be suspended in mid-air in front of Harry.

Harry reached for it, when suddenly
an image appeared before him. It was transparent like a projection
above a Pensieve, but if felt a lot more real.

The mist formed the image of Raven
as he had been before his captivity.

Harry's image.

Harry had the eerie feeling of
standing in front of a mirror. Yet he was sure his features had never
born such a melancholic and... old, awe-inspiring expression.

After all, he did not know what he
looked like at this moment.

Suddenly, all sadness was gone from
the eyes of his shiny mirror image. "Thank you, for everything,"
he heard the voice of his other Self in his head one last time.
"Thank you for listening... for understanding... and for your
will to live. I will leave you now, but I am sure you will do well.
Be happy!"

"I will."

The image faded and with it vanished
the dark sphere.

Harry was left alone on the tower
top. He leaned against the railing for a long time, gazing out into
the silent night.
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Death of a Raven