Adult-FanFiction.org : Harry Potter

Endurance	By : WinterRaven Category: Harry Potter > Slash - Male/Male > Harry/Draco Views: 29171 -:- Recommendations : 1 -:- Currently Reading : 2
Disclaimer: I do not own the rights to any of Harry Potter universe. I make no profit from this story.

Chapter List
- 1-One
- 2-Two
- 3-Three
- 4-Four
- 5-Five
- 6-Six
- 7-Seven
- 8-Eight
- 9-Nine
- 10-Ten
- 11-Eleven
- 12-Twelve
- 13-Thirteen
- 14-Fourteen
- 15-Fifteen
- 16-Sixteen
- 17-Seventeen
- 18-Eighteen
- 19-Nineteen
- 20-Twenty
- 21-Twenty-One
- 22-Twenty-Two
- 23-Twenty-Three
- 24-Twenty-Four
- 25-Twenty-Five
- 26-Twenty-Six
- 27-Twenty-Seven
- 28-Twenty-Eight
- 29-Twenty-Nine
- 30-Thirty
- 31-Thirty-One
- 32-Thirty-Two
- 33-Thirty-Three
- 34-Thirty-Four
- 35-Thirty-Five
- 36-Thirty-Six
- 37-Thirty-Seven
- 38-Thirty-Eight
- 36
- 37
- 38
Author's Note: It has been a very, very long time since I last updated this story, and for that, I sincerely apologize! Call what I had a really bad case of writer's block mixed in with life taking its course but I got really distracted. I never wanted to abandon this story and am determined to finish it out. I hope I'll hear from those of you who have been reading it from the beginning. As always, I would love to hear any comments, critiques or questions. The chapter is short but please enjoy! I'm working on all the rest :)
Thirty-Seven
He was locked in a quiet room. After warning Draco and others that he needed space to think, Harry pulled himself away from them and found the most isolated place in all of the house. He locked the door, sat down on an old, withered chair and stared at the peeling wallpaper in front of him. The room was dark and dank, lit by a sputtering lamp in the corner. The boy closed his eyes and ran his hands through his messy hair, frustrated by the conversation he had just had with Snape.
Yes, they had put some of the pieces together: in order for Harry to truly harness the gifts that Elisha left him, he would have to find a way to acquire and break into her memories. Perhaps there were the answers. Her lingering thoughts held the key to defeating Voldemort. She had given Harry her powers but what was the point if he didn’t understand how to use them? Harry exhaled, long and slow, trying hard to contain his sudden urge to punch something.
Think, think.
Harry got up and paced. Somewhere he heard a muffled voice, conversation; perhaps that was Hermione. Someone laughed, maybe Ron. The sound was unnatural to Harry. It upset him even more. He shoved his fingers in his ears, his eyes shut tight.
What the hell am I supposed to do?
Harry wondered how she expected him to understand how to access her thoughts or find answers. Not even Dumbledore understood. Harry could only think of one thing, to ask Elisha for help. He felt foolish but he whispered out loud, “Elisha… please, show me what you need me to see.”
No response came. Of course not, Harry thought bitterly. She’s dead.
But when he opened his eyes again, he had to suppress a yelp of shock.
The room around him had dissolved completely. He was standing in the middle of a different place entirely, standing in a lush, seemingly endless field. Sun was burning on his face, nearly jamming his eyes shut again from the brightness that he had not seen in weeks. Was this a memory he had somehow managed to throw himself in to? How was it possible that he was able to do that without the use of a Pensieve?
Harry forced his eyes open again and with a jolt, realized exactly where he was: on the Hogwarts Grounds. He looked around wildly but was afraid to move, not sure what exactly what happening. Then he saw her—underneath a thin tree, laying in the shade—
Elisha.
Elisha as he last remembered her over the summer. Thin and wan and covered head to foot in black.
His heart exploded in his chest. Harry called out to her, his voice desperate and cracking. No response. She remained lying on the grass, her hands folded to her chest; Harry could see her eyes were open, blinking, she was breathing slowly. This had to be a memory; but in all of the memories he had stepped in to—Snape’s, Dumbledore’s—Harry was able to move about in them… For some reason, Elisha’s strange ability to pull him into a memory beyond the grave frightened him terribly. He couldn’t move.
Then, as if knowing he felt this way—
“You should come here,” Elisha said and Harry actually yelled from shock.
“Are—I—how do you know that I’m here?” Harry gasped. She didn’t answer.
The boy took a shaking step forward and forced himself to amble through the grass, smelling the dew, shielding sunlight from his eyes. He had never been in a memory this vivid. He glanced to the right and saw the castle many miles away. He stopped moving when he reached her feet but she remained still, her pale, extraordinarily beautiful face looking up in between the tree branches and in between the leaves, ignoring him as if she couldn’t see him.
“Harry,” Elisha said, causing the boy to jump again, “I will show you what you need to see, because you asked me. Only you can access these memories of mine. I leave them imprinted in you.”
Harry stared. Had she planned to say this to him before her death?
“Harry, remember, what you must always do is look up,” she whispered, closing her own eyes as she said it. “Look up.”
The boy obeyed her command, and tilted his head so he too, was looking up into the brambles of the tree in Elisha’s memory, he could see the sky twinkling between the gaps in the leaves. As soon as he made the motion, however, the seen changed abruptly. Harry stumbled backward and felt himself slam into a wall.
“What—?!”
He was inside the castle. Harry knew the exact place; he was on the third floor corridor; it was night and the hallway seemed to be completely empty, devoid of sound to the point where there was a strange buzzing in Harry’s ears. He glanced left and right so quickly that he thought his eyeballs would fall out. And then he saw her.
Elisha was walking ahead of him, her long hair swinging down her back. She was walking with such purpose that Harry had to break into a jog to catch up with her. She made countless turns, left, right, left, up flights of stairs, commanded portraits to swing forward and admit her to various secret passageways. Harry had no idea where they were going. He was nearly running out of breath when she stopped in front of a wall.
He stared at it and then at her.
“Open up,” she said, her voice gentle.
Harry was bewildered, but the wall suddenly glowed a deep gold and a doorway appeared. Harry’s jaw fell open—how did Elisha know how to do that type of magic? How did she find a room like this at Hogwarts?
She stepped through the doorway and Harry followed only to halt immediately. If this were not a memory, he would have slammed straight into her back because the doorway did not lead to a room, it lead to a tiny, tiny space. The only item in the space was a thin wooden table. Perplexed, Harry peered over Elisha’s shoulder and saw her lift up a white wand, gleaming, almost as white as the hide of a unicorn.
“Harry,” Elisha whispered, as if knowing he was so close. The boy jumped again. Elisha turned around and he stared at her in equal dread and excitement, elated to see her so close to him again but horrified at the same time.
She was looking directly into his eyes, her own burning with the passion Harry remembered.
“Take the wand.”
“How?” Harry whispered. How? This was a memory.
She didn’t answer. She continued to peer up at him expectantly, smiling slightly, her hand extended toward him, wand resting lightly in her palm. Trembling, Harry reached forward and feeling idiotic, made to put his hand where the wand was in the memory. To his surprise, his hand closed around the object and he pulled it from her palm in awe.
“This was our mother’s wand. My father left it in my possession when our mother died. I never used her wand, I used a different one, because this wand holds the key to ending Voldemort.”
Harry wanted to say something but he was too choked up to make a sound.
“When our mother died for you, she imprinted on you an ancient power. You know this because Dumbledore has told you. You know this because you have felt this power, whether or not you understand it. You know this because we share this power, that is how we are connected. In dying, I have recharged the strength of what our mother did for you and in dying, you will find that Voldemort—when you see him next—will not be able to lay a finger on you.”
Harry stared, his heart racing.
“You have my blood protection,” Elisha continued. Drawing a deep breath, she said, “But it is the wand that is the key. It has not been used since our mother died. She was a pure woman and the wand remains so too. Her purity cannot be sullied. This wand is one of the pieces that will help you defeat Voldemort.”
“H-how?” Harry whispered, trembling head to foot. “How can a wand help? Just a wand?”
Elisha closed her eyes. As if knowing Harry would ask her such a question, she murmured, “It is not only the wand the has the strength to defeat Voldemort. The power of the wand comes from the one who yields it. You, Harry… you hold the same purity our mother held. In many ways, so did I. All we ever wanted was love.”
Harry felt hot tears splashing down his face. When Elisha opened her eyes again, Harry was met with tears of her own.
“I told you to look up, Harry,” she said, her voice barely above a whisper. “In times of toil, we tend to stare down or blankly ahead. But all of the answers you need can be accessed if you believe they can be accessed. They are housed within you now. You just need to ask.” She paused for a few moments. “Harry, I have given you the ability to perform spells that most other wizards in this world do not even know exist. I have passed to you my emotions—however difficult they are for you to handle—because in experiencing the roller coaster of sadness, grief and rage, you will find continued motivation to move forward, to look up into the light in the darkest of moments… but remember, it is not anger that motivates us, but the need to protect the purity of our own souls and the souls of those around us.
“Go onto the battlefield Harry. Don’t say locked up in that place any longer. Don’t stay locked in your mind, in your worries. Go, because now I have given you two tools to strengthen you. Our mother’s wand—her purity—and my own skill. But you must believe that you can win.”
There was a long pause. Harry shook and let his tears stream freely.
“Remember, Harry, I am always, always with you. You only need to ask me for answers and I will give them to you.”
Harry sobbed.
“Is this...real? Are—are you real?” he whispered.
Elisha continued to gaze into his eyes, hers brimming with incredible emotion; Harry felt as if he had been electrocuted, looking deep into her gaze. Harry squeezed the wand tight in his palm and extended his free hand; he moved to touch Elisha’s shoulder, praying against all hope that her body would be as solid as the wand, but his fingers went right through, as if she were smoke. She wasn’t actually there. He hung his head in shame and distress.
She smiled sadly, as if knowing all along that he would try to reach out to her.
TBC
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Endurance