Title: Strawberry Fields Forever
Author: Daeleniel Shadowphyre
Feedback: darkone2813 (at) mindspring (dot) com
Fandom: Harry Potter
Genre: Alternate Universe, Angst, Drama, Romance
Rating: R/M
Pairing: "Harry Potter"/Percy Weasley, Remus Lupin/Nymphadora Tonks, Sirius Black/Charlie Weasley
Summary: There's always more than meets the eye when it comes to one Harry Potter. However, people inevitably look for the "what" instead of taking the time to look for the "who".
Warnings: Standard Shadowphyre Warnings apply. Prophecy, Blood Magic, Dark Magic, blood, torture, violence, death, and a couple of psychological trips.
Disclaimer: Harry Potter and related characters and themes belong to JK Rowling. This is a non-profit work of fiction.
Notes: I've never done this before. I mean, I've never written a story where Harry isn't the Chosen One, and technically speaking I still haven't. I have to wonder if I got the idea for this from Saerry's "Not Myself" on two separate levels. Of course, ShivaniBlue played a part in the inspiration with the many different interpretations of the prophecy and the way Harry could die without dying. Then again, I was the one who allowed the tiny seed of an idea to germinate and cultivate into a full plot. The title, of course, is from the Beatles song of the same name, which also inspired the poem below.
Dedication: To SaerrySnape and ShivaniBlue-- just because you both rock.
Distribution: Ask, and ye shall receive.
Close your eyes to the world;
Walk along the dotted line.
You don't understand what you see--
You don't know I'm not so fine
You live, you learn,
You bow, you turn,
You bend, you break,
You get up and keep moving.
Nothing is real that you're living--
Strawberry Fields are forever.
Climb the tree of the world;
You keep climbing in the same place.
Each step you crush the berries of purity
And let the juice drip down upon my face.
You live, you learn,
You bow, you turn,
You bend, you break,
You get up and keep moving.
Nothing is real that you're living--
Strawberry Fields are forever.
I'm not the me you think I am;
You met me once, but you don't know.
I'm stained in the blood of Strawberries,
And it's time for not-me to go.
You live, you learn,
You bow, you turn,
You bend, you break,
You get up and keep moving.
Nothing is real that you're living--
Strawberry Fields are forever...
But Strawberry Fields won't wait forever.
-A Tribute to Strawberry Fields by D Shadowphyre
Prologue
The Death of Voldemort
IT WAS IN the middle of Sixth Year Charms on a rather overcast Wednesday morning that the boy known to the Wizarding World as Harry Potter abruptly collapsed, clutching his head and whimpering in pain. This alarmed everyone in the class for more than just the obvious reason of a student being in pain, for Harry Potter, the Boy-Who-Lived, was well-known to have a mental connection to Voldemort through the lightning-shaped curse scar on his forehead.
Immediately, Harry's best friends Ron Weasley and Hermione Granger were at his side, hovering anxiously while Professor Flitwick took the expedient route and made a firecall to the Hospital Wing and Madam Pomfrey. He was interrupted by a sudden scream, and whipped around only to see Harry convulsing in the dual grasp of Ron and Hermione before slumping to the ground. Astonished, he and the assembled students watched as a green mist rose up from the bleeding scar on Harry's forehead and slowly dissipated, the scar slowly closing before their eyes, leaving unblemished skin behind.
'Bloody hell,' breathed Ron in shock, and Flitwick was so astonished he didn't even think to take points for the boy's language.
'Ron!' Hermione was less constrained. She quickly lost interest in the redhaired boy, however, when Harry groaned softly. 'Harry? Harry, can you hear me?'
With what looked like great effort, Harry opened his eyes and looked up. Flitwick drew in a sharp breath. The boy's eyes, eyes that had always been the same startling shade of green as Lily Potter's had been, had turned a dark slate gray.
'It's over,' the boy gritted out, pained and weary. 'It's over.'
Abruptly, his eyes rolled back in his head and he passed out. Hermione let out a startled scream, and Flitwick recovered his wits to direct her and Ron to take Harry to the Hospital Wing while he firecalled Madam Pomfrey to let her know they were coming.
The next person he sent word to was Headmaster Albus Dumbledore.
And so it was that, when Harry finally woke in the Hospital Wing nearly seven hours later, there was a small gathering of students and teachers around his bed, much to Madam Pomfrey's consternation. The sight of those slate gray eyes where green should have been caused a number of reactions among the assembled wizards and witches, but only Dumbledore and his Potions Master and current Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher, Severus Snape, were able to hide those reactions.
'Welcome back, my boy!' Dumbledore said jovially, despite his wariness. 'You gave everyone quite a scare earlier.'
The boy stared at him incredulously for a moment, then snorted. 'My apologies, Headmaster Dumbledore. I'll try not to collapse from magical backlash while I'm in class anymore.'
'Is that what happened?' Hermione blurted out. She received a disdainful scowl from Snape for her for the question since, at least to him, that was obviously what had happened.
'Can you tell us what caused it?' Dumbledore asked gently. He was half-tempted to try legimency, but the boy was avoiding direct eye contact.
'Voldemort's dead.'
There was a collective flinch from most of the group - again save for Dumbledore and Snape - and then several jaws dropped. Snape nodded slightly. He'd suspected as much ever since his Dark Mark had burned against his arm and then abruptly begun to fade. Dumbledore, however, was frowning.
'Are you quite sure, Harry?' he pressed. After all, he knew the prophecy, and Harry had been in the castle at the moment of this supposed "death".
'Of course the brat is sure,' Snape drawled a bit scornfully. Almost reluctantly, he added, 'As am I.' He ignored Dumbledore's sharp look.
'You're fairing alright, Professor?' Harry asked Snape concernedly. He received a tight nod, and relaxed minutely. Rather archly, he said, 'I dare say your former compatriots aren't fairing so well.'
'Harry,' Dumbledore broke in earnestly, filing away that tidbit to think on later, 'you've been in the castle the entire time. How can you be sure that Voldemort is truly dead?'
'Because I saw it happen,' Harry said. His expression grew more somber, those strange gray eyes darkening further from slate to charcoal in sadness. Ron, predictably, frowned at this.
'Well, isn't that good, then?' he asked, confused. 'You're acting like your best mate died. And I'm still alive,' he added, trying for humour. It fell flat.
'Harry?' Hermione asked nervously when he didn't speak. 'What's wrong? Voldemort is dead, isn't he?'
Harry opened his mouth to answer, but was interrupted when the door to the Hospital Wing burst open. Immediately, wands were drawn and pointed at the door before the intruders were recognised. Remus Lupin stood with Nymphadora Tonks, both of them looking more than a little frantic. As the wands slowly lowered, another figure pushed the worried pair further into the Hospital Wing and stepped around them, bespectacled eyes going immediately to the boy in the hospital bed.
'Percy?!' Ron gaped, the first to speak. Percy Weasley, former assistant to Minister Cornelius Fudge and now Undersecretary to Interrum Minister Rufus Scrimgeour, completely ignored his youngest brother in favour of locking eyes with another presently bespectacled boy.
'Potter?' he asked tensely, brown eyes searching slate gray.
'It's over, Perce,' Harry said tiredly with a wan smile that didn't quite reach his eyes. 'They're dead. I can't--' His breath hitched and he swallowed hard. 'Can't feel him anymore.'
Percy let out the breath he'd been holding, nodding shortly. Three long strides carried him to the bedside and, before anyone had realised his intentions, he'd taken a seat on the side of the bed and pulled Harry up and into his arms, seizing Harry's lips in a fierce kiss before just holding him tightly.
'Merlin, Casper,' he said, almost too quietly to be heard. 'Scrimgeour had me running the investigation when so many Ministry workers collapsed, or I'd have been here sooner.'
'You're here at all,' the boy mumbled into Percy's shoulder, his own arms going around the young man's waist. 'I just... they're gone, Perce,' he repeated in an almost lost voice, as if that explained everything. From the way Percy tightened his hold on Harry, perhaps it did in some way.
'Harry, why are you and Percy being so friendly all of a sudden?' Ron demanded, looking back and forth between his best friend and his brother. 'I mean, you just kissed him! Are you gay? What's going on?'
'Yes, my boy,' Dumbledore said, shooting a slightly reproving look at the youngest Weasley male despite his own puzzlement. 'Would you care to explain what you mean by saying "they're gone"?'
'Exactly what I said, Headmaster,' the boy in the infirmary bed said quietly from within the circle of Percy's arms. Taking a deep breath, he looked up, gray eyes older than his perceived sixteen years. 'Voldemort is dead... and so is Harry Potter.'