Adult-FanFiction.org : Harry Potter

Immortalem Bellum	By : Xen Category: Harry Potter > General > General Views: 12035 -:- Recommendations : 1 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: This story is not suitable for minors, and henceforth anyone who is not of age must leave. All recognizable Harry Potter characters and content belongs to J.K. Rowling and associates and I make no money off this.

Chapter List
- 1
- 2
- 3
Author's Notes- Here comes another chapter! It may get a bit confusing as two sets of characters are present at the same time in the same place. So allow me to clarify things at first- the characters mentioned in italics are the original characters viewing the memories, while the characters mentioned in normal font are the memory-versions of the characters. I hope that clears things up.
Go ahead and give it a go. Don't forget to leave behind a review.
His feet landed on the cold stones of Hogwarts, in the passage right outside of the entrance to the Gryffindor tower. Colors blurred together, sharpening within moments to form his surroundings, the walls getting detailed by the second, before finally the memory began. He could see himself, and that brought his cognition up short- whose memory was this? He looked younger, by at least a few years. Harry looked around the memory, trying to spot Dumbledore, or the person this memory belonged to. But young Harry was alone, with the exception of one other person- a young Hermione Granger, whose bushy brown hair was still wild. But the way the memory shifted and flowed- Harry was sure the memory belonged to him.
Behind him, he felt Hermione stiffen slightly at the younger image of herself. He realized this was the first time she was using a pensieve. "Whose memory is this Harry?"
Harry took his time to answer, watching himself walk away from the tower and towards the grounds, the young Hermione following him. "I…I think it's mine...but I never gave any memories to Dumbledore…I don't know…" He quietened when he realized he didn't actually have any answers for her, just speculations. Hermione opened her mouth as if to say something but quietened immediately when the memory was filled with the voices of their younger selves.
It was Harry who was speaking. He looked nervous and timid, and the top of his forehead was beaded with sweat. "I…uh, I wanted to talk to you about something, Hermione." Hermione, who had been busy going through a thin stack of parchments clutched in her hands, looked up with small surprise etched on her face. "Is it about the egg? Did you solve it?" Her eyes lit up with excitement, and Harry realized the memory was from his fourth year. Strangely, Harry himself had no recollection of this conversation ever taking place. The tremendous ache in his chest, the heaviness in his heart, and the knot in his throat subsided temporarily as he busied himself trying to remember the origins of the memory.
"Um…no. I, uh…actually…Hermione I-" The excitement in the girl's eyes had dimmed momentarily, before the brown orbs had focused on Harry's face. His younger self's nervousness was visible to Harry, and as he watched, something began to stir in the deepest recesses of Harry's mind, like a dream he had seen decades ago and forgotten when he had woken up.
"What is it Harry?" Hermione asked, stepping off a staircase, and walking towards the castle's giant doors.
The younger Harry however, remained quiet for a few long moments, sidestepping students- who passed through Harry as if was a ghost, and glancing around to make sure they were alone. Harry could tell that his younger self was trying to build up courage, and it made Harry extremely nervous. What did I have to say that made me so nervous? And why can't I remember any of this?
"Harry", he heard Hermione call from behind him, and when he turned around to look at her, the difference two years of growth had brought in her was blinding. "I don't remember this- I mean…sure, there must be dozens of conversations we've had over the years that I can't remember…. But this….it- I really can't…"
She looked worried, her meticulous mind couldn't place the memory, but somehow, it seemed familiar.
Just as Harry was about to turn around to look at his younger self, he caught a look on Hermione's face. Her eyes were narrowed in concentration, and her brow furrowed. "Hermione…" He heard his fourth-year shadow speak and turned to look at him.
But the boy was looking at the younger Hermione with something akin to wonder, as if he was seeing her for the first time. Harry wondered if that was how his face looked every-time he saw Hermione.
"Harry, what is it? You're scaring me a little- are you alright?"
Younger Harry merely nodded at her question, then took a deep breath, stopping in his tracks, and taking Hermione by the elbow to halt her too.
It was a cold day in Hogwarts, and the sun was about to set. Twilight fell across their faces, falling through the open doors and into the Entrance Hall, and Harry realized Hermione looked beautiful, even two years ago she had been all he could see. As the memory progressed, something started awakening in his mind, and Harry felt himself remembering the fringes of the memory. He felt himself remembering this conversation, as if a veil was slowly being lifted from a part of his brain.
And then came the realization of where this memory was leading- both by his younger self's nervousness and his recollection of what went through his mind back in those days, and by the pieces of remembrance that had begun to slide into place in his mind. The coldness in his body that had drowned him without rhyme or reason seemed to flee and was replaced by mortification. He started a bit, hoping to stifle the words that would erupt out of his younger self's mouth, but stopped short when he realized it was just a memory and these events had already happened.
Young Harry straightened his back a little, and looked his friend in the eyes, all nervousness suddenly gone, warmth and adoration clearly visible on his face. "Will you go to the Yule ball with me Hermione?"
Harry felt his world sink. His secret was out, or if it wasn't yet, he was sure it would be. His heart was gripped with fear, and his eyes were now fixed at the younger Hermione, trying to gauge her reaction, afraid of finding anger, disgust or revulsion.
Harry felt Hermione step forward to stand beside him even as time seemed to come to an abrupt halt. He felt a sharp spike in his head, as the memory started coming back. The pained expression on Hermione's face told him she was remembering it too. Then the words Harry had spoken sunk. And even though her mouth was hidden behind her hands, there was no mistaking her open mouth, flooded with shock, and the gasp of pure surprise that had flooded her face. Her eyes went wide and for a few moments, she stared at the younger Harry as if was unreal.
Young Hermione had, rather comically, a similar reaction. She was staring at Harry with open shock. Her eyes were wide and disbelieving. The two stared at each other for a while, and young Harry's previously found bravado had started to flee. Harry found himself and Hermione rather speechless, bereft of any thought except the frustrating realization that they could not remember this.
A few moments passed, and Harry was beginning to worry that the memory was botched, when the younger Harry spoke, "Her-Hermione?"
The girl seemed to jump slightly, realizing she was supposed to answer. Ever so slowly, she lowered her hands, before finding her confidence. She looked Harry in the eye, before her mouth fell open but no words came out. Instead, her eyes shone with unshed tears. Both Harrys jolted into action, trying to figure out furiously what had upset their friend. But Harry stopped himself after a step, remembering that there was nothing he could do.
And even before the younger Harry could do or say something, Hermione blinked away her tears and spoke, "Y-Yes Harry." Her face split open in a grin, and she began nodding so furiously, Harry was surprised she didn't pull a muscle.
And that was when Harry saw it happen. The unmistakable shape of a house-elf materialized behind the two fourth-years, appearing from behind one of the suits of armors, its bat like ears flapping wildly. The elf had the bearings of a male-elf, with large grey eyes, the same pale skin as Dobby, a pencil like nose, giant bat like ears, and a clean red pillowcase. The elf had grey wisps of hair that had been combed neatly to the side. Without giving them a moment to react- or even become aware of his presence, the elf snapped the fingers on his right hand twice, and the two teens collapsed, stunned- eyes open and seeing, yet unable to move.
"WHAT THE HELL!"
Harry wanted to pinch himself to make sure that he wasn't dreaming. He had just witnessed a house-elf attack him and Hermione, all part of a memory he could barely remember, and then he had witnessed Hermione swear. He wanted to turn around and ask her if she was alright, but nothing made sense anymore. Besides, he had no explanation for what they were witnessing, only more questions.
The elf, however, wasn't finished with them. It stepped forwards and put a hand on both of their immobile bodies; in the blink of an eye they were all gone.
They reappeared inside a very familiar office- the same office they were currently standing in, bent at the waist, heads dipped in a pensieve.
The office in the memory was the same as the office they had stepped in, but still vastly different. This office was full of life, teeming with energy. Various silver instruments spun on their stands, some making metallic chirps, others letting out puffs of smoke at odd intervals. The portraits on the walls were busy socializing, some moving to each other's frames, others choosing to shout at each other from the comfort of their own frames. Fawkes stood upon its bird stand in full bloom, singing in short tones to itself.
And behind the large table, bent over in parchments and books, stood Albus Dumbledore, alive and well- both arms perfectly healthy, but looking as grandfatherly as ever. At the elf's appearance, the headmaster looked up, hand twitching towards where his wand lay on the table, before a look of recognition passed on his face and he straightened up. His face turned grave at the sight of the two bodies the elf had brought to his office. The twinkle in his blue eyes was gone, replaced by icy coldness.
"What happened Gimble?" His voice had an underlying steel to it now, and Harry realized this was the Dumbledore who had defeated Grindelwald, the only wizard who scared Lord Voldemort. He walked over to where the elf stood.
"Master Albus told Gimble to bring the Potter boy and the Granger girl if they ever began to get close. Gimble has been following the Potter boy ever since he came to Hogwarts this year."
Harry felt the biting cold return with full force. An icy point of despair and misery bloomed in his chest, and it began to spread to the very tips and toes of his body. Surely this was not right. This made no sense. Maybe Voldemort did this. Or Snape, it had to be Snape. Beside him, Hermione let out a squawk of confusion and dismay. "What is this all about Harry?"
But Harry still had no answers for her- and now, even his questions had fled- all that remained was despair.
Dumbledore's face lost its hardness in an instant, and the coldness was now replaced by a sad pity. "And I suppose they were beginning to see each other as more than friends?" He left the statement hanging as a question. His words confused the surprisingly well-behaved elf. "Master Albus? Gimble does not know how that happens…" The elf tilted his head to the right, as if it did not understand the dynamics Dumbledore was referring to. "Harry Potter asked the girl to the ball. The girl said yes. Gimble thought Master Albus wouldn't like that, so Gimble brought them to you. Did Gimble do wrong?"
The headmaster gave the elf a reassuring look, "Not at all Gimble. You did well…The two were headed in this direction for some time now…very well…."
Harry felt his mind reach its limit- he could no longer make sense of what was happening. His knees gave out and he sank. When he finally managed to sit, Hermione made her way over to him, choosing to sit beside him. Her face was streaked with tears, and the only prominent emotion on her face was rage.
Dumbledore waved his wand, and the two bodies floated to an upright position, their eyes fixed on the old wizard.
"I had hoped that it would not come to this Harry. But of course, I was and still remain a fool, despite all my accomplishments." Evidently, the headmaster was talking to the immobile students now. "I wish Harry…" Dumbledore let loose a long and heavy sigh, leaning sideways against the wall to his left. To Harry's bewilderment, Dumbledore looked genuinely sad. "I wish you could have led a normal life Harry. I wish you could have had the things people your age have. I just…" The headmaster seemed to be struggling for words.
"I let Sirius rot in Azkaban for twelve years Harry, and I just cannot let that go to waste. Maybe one day, you and Miss Granger will be able to enjoy a life as you wish…but until the threat of Tom Riddle has passed-"
The headmaster was interrupted by the very rude baritone of Phineas Black, whose portrait hung on the wall beside his desk. "Just how will this help your crusade against the Dark Lord Dumbledore? Stop being ridiculous! You let my descendant rot in Azkaban- and regardless of how worthless that lad is, he is a Black! And all these years- I've watched you play with this wretch's life- I've watched you try and kill him year after year- for this! You're playing with his life for Merlin's sake Albus! I wi-"
"ENOUGH!" The headmaster roared, and it was the first time Harry had seen the old man so angry. "I do what must be done for the greater good Phineas! You and I both know what the boy is- you were the one who suggested his precarious position. You were the one who brought to light the real trouble."
Harry stared in absolute confusion- what the fuck are they- what the fuck is this?
The angry portrait snorted in derision. "Indeed, it was I! And yet I do not see what it is you gain by this! Do not forget Albus, I also told you how you can free him. I've been tel-"
"You'd have me make him a murderer! We have had this argument countless times Phineas, and I do not want to suffer through it again." Dumbledore gave the man in the portrait a long hard look.
"Very well Albus, if you deem the life of an innocent child less worthy than the lives of mass murderers and terrorists…then who am I to stop the great and mighty Albus Dumbledore-" Whatever else the portrait had to say was drowned under the headmaster's silencing charm. Dumbledore turned to face the floating students only to find the girl's eyes filled with horror. Silent tears were dripping down her face. Dumbledore gave her a bland look.
"It is nothing short of impossible at your age, Miss Granger, to understand the necessity of the things I've had to do, and so I will not attempt to explain myself to you, not that I find myself inclined to. Just know…if you must, that I cannot let Harry be…part of anything that will make his final task difficult to accomplish. I cannot tell you how much it pains me to do this…I think of myself as a monster often…"
And then Albus Dumbledore raised his wand, pointing it at the immobile Hermione, "Obliviate!"
Harry felt something within him snap. Maybe it was his sanity, or maybe it was his soul, but the cold had finally become too much. What is this? What the fuck is this? Something acidic was bubbling deep in his throat, and he was finding it hard to remember his own name. Perhaps, Harry wondered, perhaps I am still in the cave- buried amongst the inferius, and this is all a dream. But it was the girl sitting on his right, with an iron grip on his arm, who reminded him that this was real. She was sobbing violently. But there was only one emotion evident on her teary face- rage.
"Harry…I…" Dumbledore's wand was pointing at Harry's face, and the boy's eyes were filled with unmasked malice. The headmaster opened his mouth to cast the spell, but something seemed to be holding him back. They stood like that for a few moments, and every second felt like an hour to Harry, sitting on the sidelines, watching his world being turned upside down, watching his trust being uprooted and being replaced with venom. The younger Harry, immobile, furious yet helpless, and the Headmaster, hesitant but sure.
"I…I know I am going to regret this Harry…but…I do not want to destroy your memories…maybe someday you can have them back…though it seems unlikely, but I guess caring too much has always been a flaw."
The memory was back inside his head now, and Harry fully remembered the helplessness of being bound by the elf's magic- the rage that had flowed through his body- the utter confusion, the desire to set Dumbledore on fire. This is how you care for me? Harry remembered how much he had struggled, though the elf's magic hadn't let it show- how deeply it had broken him to watch the headmaster obliviate Hermione. How did you hide all of that? How could I forget all of that?
The wand tip touched Harry's temple, and when Dumbledore pulled it away, it was followed by a pearly white shimmering strand of Harry's memories. And it was then that Harry realized Dumbledore wasn't using his own wand- or at least, the wand he used normally. The wand was around fifteen inches long, with carvings that resembled clusters of elderberries running down its length. The headmaster conjured a flask and allowed the memory to settle in it.
He took a few steps back and raised the wand again. "Confundus!"
"Put them in their beds Gimble."
The memory swirled violently, disorienting Harry and Hermione, and the office was gone.
Harry had half expected the memories to end there. But instead of being uprooted from the pensieve, colors began to swirl around him, forming another scene. His mind, however, chose that moment to fully comprehend what he had witnessed seconds ago. His face felt numb, and the slightly uncomfortable feeling of Hermione gripping his hand was but a distant memory- from another life. Another century, where Harry Potter hadn't been broken. Where Albus Dumbledore had been just another person Harry had cared for and lost to the Dark Lord. Where the wind wasn't ice cold and full of ashes.
He did not recognize the voice that left his parched lips, but he knew someone was crying- wailing. It was his sore and aching throat that told him it was him. His fists had been clenched so tightly his nails had left crescent marks on his palms, knuckles having turned a deathly white. Something was climbing up his throat, burning its way up, and despite the heat in his chest, despite the relentless sweat pouring off his forehead, his entire body was shivering with cold.
He could not feel Hermione, could not feel her presence anymore. His body refused to sense anything but the frost around him, and the poisonous colors swirling to form the next memory. She said 'yes', and you fucking stole it from me! Icicles of rage gripped his heart, and the in that moment, Harry wanted to set fire to everything that lay within his sight.
He barely registered the next memory, watching in a daze, and it wasn't until he heard someone in the memory speak that his attention fell to it. The memory, once again, belonged to him, but this time, he wasn't surprised that he was unable to remember any of it. "D-do you remember this Hermione?" His voice was so raspy Harry barely recognized it as his own.
Hermione took a long moment to answer, "I don't think so, Harry. What has Dumbledore been doing to us?" She had spoken amongst sobs, and Harry wished he had not wrought this upon her.
They were on the shores of the Black Lake. For a moment, Harry found himself unable to tell which year the memory belonged to; then he spotted his bleeding fist, the words 'I must not tell lies' etched into his skin. Fifth year then, he mused. It seemed he had just returned from one of Umbridge's detentions. His face was as easy to read as ever- anger and frustration dancing away merrily. Ron was standing a bit to the side, arguing with Neville about something. Hermione stood beside him, worry and care emanating from the frown on her face.
"Harry…" Hermione put a hand on her shoulder, and Harry saw, out of the corner of his eye, Ron drift away, dragged by Neville to the other end of the shore, where Fred and George stood, laughing amongst themselves, probably at Neville's expense.
"I'm fine Hermione," fifth year Harry grumbled. Harry had a flashback of the stress and frustration he carried around in fifth year- not that any of those things had lessened over the years, but back then he had distanced himself from everyone- even Hermione.
"I know you are not Harry, but I won't push you to talk for once. I hope you know you can always come to me if there is ever anything you need to talk about…or um- you know, just anything." She waited until Harry nodded, then removed her hand from his shoulder. She looked around, and realizing that Ron was no longer with them, looked back at Harry with a small smile.
"I still have my History of Magic essay to finish, but I was…uh- I was thinking um-" Hearing Hermione stutter was something so novel and rare that Harry forgot some of his anger at Umbridge. He looked at Hermione, a wary look on his face. "Yes?"
"Well, walk with me?" She asked, uncertainly, fidgeting and playing with her fingers. She looked nervous, and Harry couldn't for the life of him guess what she wanted to talk about. He gave her a nod and let her lead the way. They began a slow walk around the lake, in the direction opposite to the one Ron and Neville had left in, and miraculously Harry found the strength to rise and follow them. It took him some time to realize that Hermione had risen with him, and was walking close beside him, her arm looped through his, and face covered in fresh tears. He watched her wipe her running nose on her sleeve, before his eyes sought out the Hermione in front of him. From where her arm was touching his, a warmth had begun to spread, and the icy hunger within him had started thawing a bit. They walked a hurried pace, until they were walking right next to the two fifth years, eyes glued to their faces.
Harry gave her a few moments to talk, choosing to walk in companionable silence. "We have a Hogsmeade weekend coming this week, Harry." She spoke suddenly, as if she had suddenly worked up the willpower to say whatever she had on her mind.
"Yeah…um, yes, we do," said Harry, still unsure of where this was headed.
Hermione nodded to herself, then took a deep breath. "Would you like to go to Hogsmeade- uh, with me?" Her cheeks were pink and flushed, and Harry realized she was blushing. Then her words registered. Beside him, Hermione gasped loudly (Harry thought it was more a shriek). "I didn't," she muttered, exasperated. Harry turned to give her a look. A warmth he had not known before bloomed inside of him- a fluttering in his stomach he had never known before. His vision swam a crescent, and Hermione wouldn't meet his eyes. Both of them are blushing, he thought, and it looks good on both of them.
But this was unbelievable to Harry. Hermione had asked him on a date? If his world hadn't almost ended a mere minutes ago, Harry Potter would have swooped with joy. For over three years he had pined for her, watched her bloom from beside her, wished and begged his fates to make the impossible happen. And always, he had told himself that she didn't see him that way- her friendship would suffice; always he had told himself, that it was better this way. But it had never been enough- and everyday he hungered for her, watched her smile- treasured her smiles- even though they weren't for him. And she asked me out.
"I don't remember this," he spoke, and there-in he realized, lay the problem. Hermione finally looked at him, for the fleetest of moments, a runaway shard of time caught in buffeting winds, blown away before he could fully comprehend it, but there was warmth in those eyes, the chocolaty orbs swirled with emotion. And Harry melted. His shivering stopped.
It seemed, the younger Harry was slow on the uptake, and it took him a few moments to actually understand what Hermione had meant. "Oh!" He stopped in his tracks, cheeks reddening. "Like…on a-like on a date?" His voice cracked at the end, bursting with disbelief, and Harry cringed. You lame fuck.
Harry's emerald eyes were wide, fixed on Hermione. "Uh…yes, Harry. I mean- if you want to? We can always go as friends." Hermione was looking anywhere but at him.
"No," Harry spoke, grinning like he had won a million galleons, "a date sounds nice."
"Okay!" said Hermione, equally pleased, finally meeting his eyes with a large smile on her face. Almost on cue, Harry heard the almost silent pop! The elf appeared from behind the students, and with twin snaps of his fingers, struck them down again. The elf looked around, checking for possible witnesses- finding none, it nodded grimly to itself.
"NO!" Harry shouted, albeit stupidly, but it was evident to him why he did not remember what Harry thought of as one of the most important conversations of his life. Within the next second, they were again hovering in the headmaster's office, unable to budge an inch. The portraits were empty this time, and the Headmaster was unwrapping a lemon drop for himself. Upon seeing Gimble, the Headmaster sighed heavily, recognizing what had occurred. "What happened Gimble?"
"They wanted to go on a…Gimble thinks Miss Granger said …on a date?" The elf tugged on its ears twice, before continuing, "Gimble brought them to Master Albus."
Albus Dumbledore nodded serenely, "This is...it seems they genuinely like each other…for them to…" He gave another sigh, "I wish I could…Very well."
He didn't address the petrified students, didn't look them in their confused and scared eyes this time. He raised the same mysterious wand from before, obliviated Hermione again, and pulled the memory from Harry's head. "Maybe one day, you will have what you wish for Harry…but that day is worlds afar."
"Confundus!"
By now, Harry was numb…almost as if something within him was dying. This constant cycle of Dumbledore's betrayal…of getting to hold that which he desired the most, only to have it so ruthlessly snatched away…again and again by the person he would last expect to- Harry potter was being broken bit by bit. I had all I wanted, and you took it away. The one little semblance of peace and happiness I needed, and you- you… He was panting as if he had run a lap around the Black Lake, and he felt he was going to be sick. This is the truth?
He had expected to see Dumbledore's sins- to see Dumbledore messing up his own life. These are his sins, he realized. He was playing with my life all along.
Hermione was weeping. Harry had a hard time not turning to her and exiting the cursed pensieve. There was a monster battering his ribcage from within- a mythical mix of some ferocious ivory dragon and an obsidian basilisk, teeth bared and mouth frothing and spitting vitriol, roaring to be unleashed upon the world.
Neither of them was left with any words to say- neither of them capable of consoling the other.
The next memory, as the colors swirled to realize, was a contrast to the first two- Harry was alone, and he was in a small room. He looked scruffy, there were bags and dark circles under his puffy red eyes, and a he looked in need of a shave. His hair, wild as ever, was slick with sweat. His clothes, drenched with sweat, stuck to his body, and his eyes were open yet unseeing. He sat on the floor, slumped against the foot of the bed, the room an utter mess.
His Hogwarts trunk lay shut a few steps away, and the bed was in a complete disarray.
Harry recognized this, even if he did not recognize the memory. And he dreaded it. He dreaded it almost as much as he dreaded what had caused it.
Hermione stopped crying to see what had made Dumbledore steal this memory from Harry. Then she looked around the room. It was barely enough for a person to live in, falling short of being called a proper room. She wanted to say something about it but chose to keep quiet. She didn't have the sense of what to speak- and at the moment, she was afraid she would do more harm than good.
SMACK!
The sound reverberated in the tiny room, and Hermione jumped a little. Harry merely hung his head in shame, wishing desperately for the memory to end. How many secrets did he take from me? Was my life ever mine to live?
Harry had slapped himself. Hermione stared in shock, first at the Harry that belong to the memory, and then at the Harry that stood beside her. Her mouth had fallen agape.
SMACK!
They watched Harry stare at his hand, as if the damage it as doing was not satisfactory. A bruise was forming on his cheek, in the shape of his hand. A wild gleam appeared in his eyes, an abhorrent taste to the franticness. And then, Harry's eyes fell on his Hogwarts trunk. For a moment, all was quiet, and Harry and Hermione stood in utter silence, wondering with gnawing fear how the younger Harry would proceed. Then he leapt forward, swinging the trunk's lid open in one smooth motion, before his hands were rummaging in the confines of the trunk. And then, after a few seconds of hectic searching, Harry pulled back and dropped against the bed again.
In his hand, he held a silver knife.
Hermione gasped, her hand coming up to cover her mouth. "NO! No, Harry n- No!"
She turned to him, reaching out to grab his shoulder and turn him around to face her, but Harry turned away, shame filling his face. When Sirius had died, Harry had often come close to killing himself- the guilt was too much to live with, but to see that he had actually attempted it- Harry was flooded with disgust and shame- five hundred twisted shades of it.
Harry took the silver knife to his wrist, digging it so deep a droplet of blood appeared instantly. He took a few deep breaths, preparing to slice his wrist open. Then a look passed his face, and he brought the knife up to his throat, digging the knife next to his jugular. Outside the room, a deathly quietness reigned, the entirety of Privet Drive was smothered in the summer heat and its silence. A few sounds managed to make their way upstairs, but it was clear the Dursleys had no idea of what Harry was up to in his room. Tears ran down his face, and his heaving breaths shook his underfed frame. Before he could slice the knife and end his life, a thought struck him, and he leapt up once more, hands pilfering through his trunk and coming back with piece of thick paper. Hermione stood up on her toes, leaning her head to the side to see what it was.
It was a photo. A wizarding photo- of Harry, Hermione and Ron. He held the photo in his left hand, eyes stuck to the girl in the middle, and brought the blade once more to his throat.
"Oh Harry," she was crying once again, but these were dry sobs she was heaving, there weren't any tears left in her. Harry hated the fact that she was watching this, hated himself for ever having done it, hated himself for making her cry. Mortification and humiliation gripped him, and he wished he had died back then, for he could not face Hermione ever again. Not after this.
And then came the elf.
Harry was almost expecting it this time. Dumbledore's office was once more in its usual lively state, though a majority of the paintings were asleep. He watched in silence as Gimble explained the situation he had found Harry in. Dumbledore's face darkened, and it gave Harry some form of perverse satisfaction to see horror and fear dawn on his face. This is where your care led Dumbledore!
"You did a very good thing today Gimble- if Harry had succeeded," the old man shuddered, "all would have been lost."
Dumbledore retrieved his other wand again, from within the depths of his robes, choosing to ignore his own wand, the one that Harry recognized, lying on the desk. The portrait of Phineas Black broke out into a furious monologue, berating the old wizard with anatomical descriptions Harry had a hard time imagining, but a wandless silencing charm was enough to quell its voice.
Dumbledore came close to the petrified wizard lying on the ground, eyes staring at the ceiling. There was anger in his eyes this time around instead of guilt and regret, and Harry wondered if the latter two had ever been genuine, or if the man was trying to convince himself. "What were you thinking Harry? Your time will come my boy…one day, you will have to sacrifice your life, but…but not like this- you're not going to lay my plans to ruin Harry. For the sake of the wizarding world and your own." The headmaster's tone was gentle, albeit chiding, but Harry didn't care. Sacrifice? You wanted me to die? After everything- you motherfu- this was your grand plan? To kill me?
His vision swam, and something acidic rose in his chest. Harry retched violently, falling to his knees, coughing- tears running down from his eyes. The monster in his chest was positively thrashing now, and for a moment Harry couldn't tell what was beating against his ribs so frantically. Maybe something was indeed trying to break free from within him. Nothing made sense anymore- nothing was real anymore. And Harry didn't know who to trust anymore. All that was left was zombies- for men and women had betrayed him- rummaged within him and fled with what they had found.
Where did he go from a here? And who would walk with him to wherever he would stumble to? Was his only purpose in this world to wither away- while Dumbledore tested the best and grandest of his plans? Was his only fate to suffer, and never find solace? Would his misery even matter? Would his chaos even count? He dimly remembered Hermione, but she was too far lost in the recesses of her own mind for Harry to reach in his current state. Where do all the stars go, Harry?
Within seconds, Dumbledore had pulled the memory out of Harry, and confounded him.
"Administer him a calming drought Gimble, then take him back. And keep a closer watch on him…We can't afford another incident like this."
To their horror, there was more. The colors shifted, swirling around them in grotesque patterns, before settling to form the headmaster's office again.
And Harry's blood ran cold. Hate bubbled up within him- for Severus Snape sat opposite Albus Dumbledore, locked in a somber discussion. They each held a crystal tumbler, filled with an amber colored liquid. And if it wasn't for the sight of Albus Dumbledore's murderer, Harry would not have found the strength to pay attention to the memory. The office was lit with the light from the fire cackling away in the fireplace. Outside the office, snow fell through dark skies, and a storm howled away. Harry realized with a start that it was Severus Snape's memory he was watching.
"It is, I suppose, time for you to come clean with me, Albus," Severus spoke, taking a small sip of his drink. "You know of Draco's task- his impossible task." He waited for the old wizard to nod, "Then you know the Dark Lord intends to make his move soon." Again, he paused for the headmaster's acknowledgement. Dumbledore gave another small nod.
"And you are sure you won't share your plans with me?" There was contempt in Snape's voice, something Dumbledore did not miss. "You know what you have asked of me Albus- once I do it- once I kill you- the Dark Lord will know no limits; his poison will know no cure. Potter is barely capable to fight his minions, and you expect to leave this on his feeble shoulders?"
The headmaster responded by waving his wand, and a lemon drop rose from the bowl on his desk and floated towards the dark-haired man sitting opposite him. Snape responded by plucking the candy from the air in front of his face and flinging it with a snarl into the fireplace. Dumbledore merely chuckled, unwrapping a lemon drop for himself.
He finished his own drink in one long sip and leaned back in his chair. At long last, he spoke. "We both know this body is at the end of its journey, Severus. The curse will kill me within the month, I'd rather die at the wand of an old friend. And if we can save young Mr. Malfoy- well I say all the better."
The words did not affect Harry as they should have- he was numb. It was all planned. He could almost imagine Snape sitting somewhere in a dark room, amongst his books and potions, or surrounded by Death Eaters and Voldemort himself, laughing at Harry's rage. It was all planned. And I've been the fool.
"And what of Potter? He seems…attached", the potions master spoke the word with distaste, "to you."
Dumbledore smiled. "Harry will know what to do- he has his own path in front of him. No doubt, he will attack you- and the Order of the Phoenix will brand you as a traitor, but we have discussed that already. You are a skilled wizard Severus, and few can hope to best you in a duel. But no harm must come by your wand to any of the order members- especially Harry. Which brings me to why I summoned you here tonight. There will come a time…" Dumbledore trailed off, eyes looking far away, staring unseeing into the fire. A dark expression settled over his face.
When he did not speak for some time, Severus prompted him. "Yes?"
The old wizard sighed; he took a deep breath and closed his eyes. "There will come a time when Voldemort will seek to protect his snake… Nagini. He will go to great lengths, to keep the snake safe… when that time comes Severus… and not a minute before… Tell Harry that on the night Lord Voldemort tried to kill him, when Lily cast her own life between them as a shield, the Killing Curse rebounded upon Lord Voldemort, and a fragment of Voldemort's soul was blasted apart from the whole, and latched itself onto the only living soul left in that collapsed building. Part of Lord Voldemort lives inside Harry, and it is that which gives him the power of speech with snakes, and a connection with Lord Voldemort's mind that he has never understood. And while that fragment of soul, unmissed by Voldemort, remains attached to and protected by Harry, Lord Voldemort cannot die."
Harry seemed to be watching the two men from one end of a long tunnel, they were so far away from him, their voices echoing strangely in his ears. The darkness within him had always known- and he heard maniacal laughter from within him, almost echoing in the tunnel. Maybe the fragment of Voldemort's soul was laughing at him, or maybe it was Dumbledore- laughing at him for thinking he would have a life beyond Voldemort. He couldn't be sure. Everything was shrouded in mist. Have I ever been alive?
"So the boy…the boy must die?" asked Snape quite calmly, but Harry sensed something sinister rising within the Potions master.
"And Voldemort himself must do it, Severus. That is essential."
Another long silence. Then Snape said, "I thought…all those years…that we were protecting him for her. For Lily."
"We have protected him because it has been essential to teach him, to raise him, to let him try his strength," said Dumbledore, his eyes still tight shut. "Meanwhile, the connection between them grows ever stronger, a parasitic growth. Sometimes I have thought he suspects it himself. If I know him, he will have arranged matters so that when he does set out to meet his death, it will truly mean the end of Voldemort.
"I tried to arrange this very confrontation in his first year- to have Voldemort do what was necessary…and again in second year…I let the basilisk have a run at the lad, but the boy was too resourceful. Maybe his fate was calling him somewhere else. But yes, since then, since he slew the monster of Salazar, we have protected him, raised him so that he could be the sword that would rid us of Voldemort."
"You did WHAT?"
Dumbledore opened his eyes. Snape looked horrified.
"I have kept him alive so that-…that you can play with his life! So that he can die at the right moment- when you deem it so?"
"Don't be shocked, Severus. How many men and women have you watched die?"
"Lately, only those whom I could not save," said Snape. He stood up. "You have used me."
"Meaning?"
"I have spied for you and lied for you, put myself in mortal danger for you. Everything was supposed to be to keep Lily Potter's son safe. Now you tell me you have been raising him like a pig for slaughter – that you tried to kill him!"
"But this is touching, Severus," said Dumbledore seriously. "Have you grown to care for the boy, after all?"
"For him?" shouted Snape. "Expecto Patronum!"
From the tip of his wand burst the silver doe. She landed on the office floor, bounded once across the office, and soared out of the window. Dumbledore watched her fly away, and as her silvery glow faded, he turned back to Snape, and his eyes were slightly wet, and twinkling in the firelight.
"After all this time?"
"Always," said Snape. He took a step away from the Headmaster's desk. "True, I've watched a lot of men die- women too," he continued, and for the first time, Harry saw Severus Snape truly angry, "but tonight, I will watch you die."
He drew his wand with lightning fast speed, a curse flowing past his lips before the wand was even pointing at the headmaster. But Dumbledore's countenance remained calm, leaping from his chair, wand deflecting the curse back at Snape who raised a shield to absorb it. Harry had rarely seen magic cast so efficiently, and for once in his life, he actually wanted Snape to win at something. Snape summoned the chair behind Dumbledore, transforming it into a barbed wire, but Dumbledore wrestled it away from under Snape's control, and transformed it back into a chair, using wandless magic to deposit the chair into a corner of the room, while maintaining an impenetrable shield with his other.
"Avada Ke-" Snape's killing curse was interrupted when the headmaster banished the chair Snape had occupied mere minutes ago in Snape's direction- followed by a pair of over-powered stunners. Snape had to abandon his curse and conjure a shield.
"Do not be foolish, Severus. You swore a magical oath to follow my orders. Don't make me use it against you- your magic will kill you!" Dumbledore raised his voice, but Snape ignored his warning.
"I will not let you kill him Albus! You will-" He had begun to fire multiple spells in succession, before Dumbledore gave a resigned sigh, and pointing his wand in the general direction of Snape, muttered, "Peribit propter proditione!"
The effect was instantaneous. Snape's body jerked to a stop halfway through a curse, at an awkward angle. He gave a jerk, as if he had been pushed, then another- before his mouth opened in a heart-rending scream. The potions master fell to his knees, clutching at his chest, body jerking every few seconds as if he was in a fit. His agony was unbearable, his own magic having been turned against him.
Dumbledore didn't seem troubled by Snape's current predicament, nor by the fact the man was trying to murder him. But even still, Harry watched him let Snape suffer for a few moments, before he pointed his wand at Snape, and intoned, "Abolitio conceditur!" The jerking stopped, and after a few moments, the screaming stopped too. Snape's magical punishment had ended at Dumbledore's command, but the trace of the pain still lingered in the former's chest. Snape lay heaving deep breaths, unable to comprehend the pain he had just been doused with.
Dumbledore waited until Snape was able to sit up, wheezing and rubbing his chest, before he spoke. "There is no other way Severus, you have to trust me, like you have trusted me all these years."
But Severus Snape was not listening- he raised his wand again, hand shaking and in no shape to duel, resorting to darker and nastier curses. "Sectumsempra!" The curse missed Dumbledore by inches, but whether it was by Snape's skill that it got so close, or Dumbledore's prowess that it missed him, Harry couldn't tell- probably the latter. Dumbledore sent another stunner, but Snape merely flicked it into the dusty carpet.
"You have used me! And for what? To lead her child to his death!" Spittle flew from his mouth as he spat curse after curse at Dumbledore, who merely absorbed them with his shields, or flicked them back lazily at the furious man. But when a curse ricocheted off Dumbledore's shield and smashed into Fawkes's stand, splitting it into two halves, Dumbledore decided he had had enough.
"ENOUGH!" His voice boomed loud and heavy, and Snape's shields dissolved under the intensity of Dumbledore's will, the former crumbling into a heap, wand rolling away mid-curse.
Dumbledore hadn't even broken a sweat.
He twirled his wand into a spiral, and Snape's immobile body rose into the air, hovering still for a second before he was dumped unceremoniously onto a hastily conjured chair. Snape's dark eyes followed the headmaster as he moved to stand in front of him. "Why Severus? I took you for a smarter man- at least smarter than this. You must have known you couldn't defeat me- even if I had a blindfold on. All I need to leave you incapacitated is say a few words. Your oath will not allow you to betray me. Do not test me again Severus- you will find I am still the wizard who bested Gellert Grindelwald."
Dumbledore sighed again, leaning back against his desk. "I had thought you would understand. Harry Potter was never important to you Severus, merely the fact that he was the child of Lily Evans. And so, what do you care if he lives or dies? Tom must die- you and I both know that, and if Harry must put down his own life, heart wrenching as the thought is to me, then yes, for the greater good, I have raised the child to be killed- though I never saw it that way."
Dumbledore flicked his wand, and the petrification was lifted from Snape's head, but the rest of his body stayed still as a statue. Snape stayed silent, and as the seconds passed, a lone tear ran down his left cheek.
"I wish it was me, wish it was anyone but Harry. But the fates have willed it so- the prophecy wills it so. I've spent years planning- researching- committing heinous acts Severus, just so Harry can defeat Tom. All that effort, all that hard work…all this guilt- this heavy burden- this filth I carry…you think it's easy? You think I want Harry to die?"
Dumbledore's' face shriveled up in cruel anger- derisive and furious, the wrinkles etching a tale of fury and malevolence. Harry had never seen the old wizard like this- so full of anger and righteousness. "The things I've done- what do you know of guilt Severus. I've done such despicable things Severus, that I have no qualms about where I am headed once you kill me. The road to hell, Severus… the road to hell…" Dumbledore's tone had changed dramatically, and suddenly, he wasn't talking to Severus, his tone was now laden with mania. He was confessing, but not to Snape. Harry wasn't sure Dumbledore was mentally in the same room as Snape anymore. But tears were running down his wrinkled cheeks, and in between his monologues, he was mumbling to himself.
"I made Harry live with his muggle relatives, so he would be broken when he came into the wizarding world, so the comfort Hogwarts gave him would make Hogwarts his home. For ten years, the boy lived in a cupboard under the stairs Severus," the headmaster snorted darkly, as if he still could not believe that family could be so cruel, "and I am to blame for that. Minerva told me they weren't fit to live with pigs, but I forced them upon Harry anyway…Sirius would have never allowed it and so Sirius had to be out of the picture. I had my doubts...he was too obvious a choice for being the Potter's secret keeper, but by then my plan had already been made- the scar on Harry's forehead- the pure malice coming off of it- had given me all the warnings I needed.
"It was I who convinced Barty to skip a trial, and send Sirius to prison- not that he needed any convincing, I merely pulled the strings...and he made it happen. And years later, it was I who sent Molly to meet the boy at the station. She didn't know, of course, what my plans were- but she knew why she had been sent. I kept Harry from having a life Severus…"
Was there any part of my life you did not fuck with Dumbledore? Harry felt the long tunnel was collapsing upon him- the bricks from the walls falling on top of him, burying him alive, and molten mortar filling in the crevices and the cracks. It would have been better if Voldemort had killed me- did my parents die for this?
"I kept him and Miss Granger apart, and it wasn't because of what she is. Her succubus nature has nothing to do with it- not that she has travelled down that path…she can hardly be called one as of now."
WHAT THE UTTER FUCK? For the first time in quite some time, a thought- any thought, crossed his deadened state of consciousness. WHAT THE FUCK IS THIS BULLSHIT? A SUCCUBUS? HERM-HERMIONE IS A WHAT?
And with herculean strength, he turned to look at her, but she was staring at him in abject mortification, face a mess, eyes puffed, as if her deepest secrets had been spilled- which Harry surmised from the look on her face- they had. Red and sore, mouth open in a silent wail of indescribable agony, as if something within her had broken, and the pieces had fallen into an abyss, burning as they were swallowed by the darkness. And when they had resurfaced, they were not just her pieces- she was something more, something darker. In her eyes, Harry could tell it was true, and that was enough to break another piece of him.
But Dumbledore was not done ruining him. "They would have been good- great for each other, but I kept them apart. I kept Harry from having any meaningful relationship, any reason that would make him hesitate to walk down that path which he must, for if he does not…then everything is in vain. Tom cannot be defeated as long as Harry lives. It's the hardest choice a man must make- and if Harry has someone waiting for him to come back- to return from a path that only goes one way… Do you think he will make that choice?"
Dumbledore fell into a spell of silence then, staring into the fire, forgetting momentarily that Severus Snape was in front of him. Minutes had passed in stony, bitter silence, when Snape finally spoke, "Fuck you, Dumbledore!"
Albus Dumbledore looked back at him, blue eyes wet and full of regret. Snape's words, full of vitriol seemed to have brought him back from wherever his mind has wandered off to. With a sudden clarity and preciseness, he pulled out his second wand, approaching Snape once more. "I of course, cannot allow you to remember all this. Voldemort must never know of this."
Snape's eyes widened in panic. "You would be foolish to obliviate me Albus- besides, there is no need for such extreme measures. I took a magical oath to follow your wishes, and I must do so, or my life is forfeit. But if you obliviate me, regardless of how skilled you are, you forget the Dark Lord is a master at the mind arts. He will know you took something."
Dumbledore's replying chuckle only served to heighten Snape's fright, "He will never know Severus- that is precisely why he fears me so. And even if he could have known, he would have never found out what it was I took. Regardless, do not fret Severus, I still have a couple of tricks up my sleeve." He brandished his wand in front of Snape's eyes, making deliberate, gradual, wasteful movements, letting Snape's dark eyes linger on the wand. Snape's eyes narrowed, but he showed no signs of recognition. Dumbledore chuckled again, "Forgive me. Sometimes I forget the world still thinks of the wand as a myth."
It was then that Snape gave the reaction Dumbledore had earlier been hoping for. His eyes widened comically, and beads of perspiration appeared on his forehead. He began furious attempts at scrambling backwards from Dumbledore, but the only reaction his body gave was to shudder once. Wasting no further time, Dumbledore reached forward, and began plucking the memory out of Snape's head.
The memory gave a violent shudder, before it blurred, swirling in a cascade of colors, and the pensieve deposited Harry and Hermione into the Headmaster's office.
Author's Notes: That is all for Chapter 2! Leave your reviews and let me know if I messed up somewhere.
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