Prologue
Honestly, I am unsure of how I should start this story. I could start at the beginning, I suppose, but I'm not entirely sure it matters. The end… well the end matters a great deal, but I can't start there either. It's too fresh. So I suppose I'll start somewhere in between. Let's start with my name. Alicia. Alicia Morgan. Now I'm almost thirty years old, but I suppose my current age doesn't matter much either. What does matter, however, is that I am about to die. Maybe that's a good place to start. I have cancer, uncurable, they've tried, but even after all these years there is one thing the muggle and the magical world have in common. Cancer kills. And there's nothing to be done. So yeah, I'm about to die, at the age of thirty and that's why I'm writing this story down. I once swore to myself that this story would never see the light of day, that it would die with me, but now… Now I find myself with the unsurpassable desire to tell it. Just once. On these pages. It doesn't matter that no one will read it. It doesn't matter that if someone were to read it they'd never believe it. None of that matters. What matters is that it's told.
Why? Because it's the truth. The truth that no one knows about. Not a single person living on this planet but me. Not even those who were a part of it. That was the price to pay and I would pay it again. Whose story it is? Well mine. Mine and Harry Potter's, Ron Weasly's, Hermione Granger's, Draco Malfoy's and everyone else's. Because the story they know, the story you know, is nothing but a lie. Don't blame them. It's not their fault. They don't know it's all a lie. They can't remember the truth. Can't remember me. But I remember. I remember everything. Sometimes I wish I didn't. But that's not how it works.
So here I am, a dying woman rambling onto these pages, hoping that it will ease the burden on her soul. The burden that I put there myself. But let me begin… I guess I should start with the future, wellt he past now… but it was a future then. I'm being confusing…. I'm not very good at this!
2017
„Are you ready?", Thomas whispers beside me and I nodd, not feeling ready at all. How could I be? We are about to attack the ministry of Magic. Or what used to be the ministry of magic. Now it's the Deatheaters HQ. Not that it makes a difference these days. Technically the ministry went down 20 years ago, now they weren't even pretending anymore. Why should they? Voldemort has won. The resistance is all but ecxtinct. The Order of the Phoneix fought bravely and died spectacularly. One by one. The world has sunk into chaos with a madman at the top. A man to mad to realize that there's nothing left for him to rule. The people are broken. Broken by the endless wars that rage all over the planet, the chaos, the cruelty. Killing Voldemort won't change that anymore. We know that. We have lost. We're defeated, but we haven't given up yet. Killing Voldemort may not change the problem, we know that, but if we're going down, and we will eventually, we can at least take the bastard down with us. We're not trying to save the world. It's too late for that. There are five of us. Thomas, my husband and our leader, Christi, Melchior, Fred and I. Five of us to infilitrate the enemy camp and blow it up from within. A suicide mission. What else is left?
The others nodd as well and so it begins. Our final battle. The true end of the resistance. We aren't worried about getting in. The ministry is nothing more than chaos these days. Death Eaters climbing over eachother's bodies to get close to the top and gravel at the feet of mad man on top. All we need is a bit of polyjuice potion and to pick out some of the weaker links. We've picked them in advance. People we went to school with. Fred picks George, his twin, because it's easiest for the paln, if not for him. We don't have enough potion. I know it's tough on him, to be reminded of his brother's betrayal, but there's no time fort hat now. It doesn't matter anymore. Fred knows that.
My victim is Cormac McLaggen, and I have to admit that I chose him for my own petty reasons. I stun him, take his hair, then I kill him. Melchior looks at me questioningly, but doesn't say anything. He knows I don't like to kill. I reserve it for the worst of the worst. I turn towards him.
„He killed Draco."
That's enough of an explanation. Despite the fact that Draco's father was a Death Eater from even before Draco was born, he had never shared his father's views. The entire pureblood idea had never held much appeal to a boy who'd never met anyone who wasn't a pureblood. Voldemort had killed Albus Dumbledore, his greatest enemy, when I was eight years old. After that only purebloods, and the occasional half-blood once they realized that there weren't enough pureblood's, were allowed at Hogwarts. Draco had joined the resistance early on, working as a spy for our side until Cormac had betrayed us. He sold Draco out for power, and Draco had died at the hands of his own father at the age of 25. We were engaged at the time. I love Thomas, with all my heart, but that doesn't mean that I've ever forgiven the man who killed my first love. Now he'd dead at my feet and I feel a small spark of staisfaction. Lucius is next. He's in the building, we know that much. All the important one's are at the ministry.
Thomas puts his hand on my shoulder. He has killed his Death Eater too, I don't know this one, but Thomas doesn't share my qualms about killing. Christi is ready as well and Fred is standing over the unconcious body of his twin, his face unreadable.
„Let's do this."
Thomas, Melchior, Christi and I drink our polyjuice potions and the five of us head in. As expected it isn't hard to get in. No one even glances at us or questions the fact hat we've abandoned our posts as guards. They don't think they need guards. Whose left to harm them ? We are. Fred has enough explosives to blow this place up ten times. No one is leaving it alive. We head to the basement, were the interrogation rooms are. No one stops us. No one even looks at us. The further down we head the less people we meet. Finally we reach our destination. Fred places the explosives and looks up at us.
« One spark and this place goes up in flame. Any last requests?"
We've one over this before, but I find myself speaking suddenly.
„I want to kill Lucius."
The others stare at me and Thomas frowns.
„Alicia. He's about to die. They all are."
„I want to do it myself."
„That's just stupid. The polyjuice potion is about to wear off. You can't just storm up there and go looking for him. They will recognize you."
Melchior is right, I know that, but I can't help myself. I need to do this.
„If anyone comes down blow this place up, you have my blessing, but I'm going for Lucius. Give me one hour. If I'm not back in one hour you can blow us all to pieces. »
Thomas beginst o protest, but Fred nods and I turn around and run back to the elevator. Thomas never did understand that part of me. The part that can't let go of Draco. I love Thomas, I truly do… But I always have and always will love Draco more. Thomas knows this and accepts this. His first wife died too. We both have true loves waiting for us on the other side.
I can feel the polyjuice potion wearing off as I'm in the elevator. I'm shrinking and my hair is growing rapidly and losing colour until it's completely white. I don't need to see my eyes to know they've gone back to their light blue shade. I pull the cloack over my head and, not fort he first time, curse the fact that I'm an albino. It's not very good for being sneaky. The elevator doors open and I step out, keeping my head low. I'm on the top floor now surrounded by the highest ranking Death Eaters. Lucius has to be here somewhere, I just know it. I spot him, at the end oft he hallway. He's speaking to someone else, a man with black greasy hair. It takes me a moment to recognize my former potions teacher. Severus Snape. My wand is out, pointing at Lucius when he turns around and sees me. His eyes widden, I raise my arm at the same time as the Death Eaters around me do the same and then the world goes up in pain and flames.
Halloween 1981
The pain is unbearable, unimaginable. I remember anger, anger at being so close, anger that they didn't wait the full hour and then… nothing. Sweet blissful nothing. But it didn't last. Bliss rarely does. I wake up, or I am, it's hard to tell. I am aware, that much I know. I know it because I register that I don't have a body. I am nothing but a spirit. The next thing I become aware of is the fact that I am not in the Ministry building. In fact, I am nowhere near it. I look around and realize that I'm somebody's living room. It's rather elegant but homey at the same time. A nice place to live, I think. A small voice in the back of my mind registers that I must be in shock, the rest of me calmly takes in the room. A light carpet, soft, matching couch and armchair. There are jack-o-lantern in the window. I will myself over to the fireplace. There are pictures there. Some of them show a beautiful couple, her with red hair, him with messy black hair. Her green eyes capture me. They remind me of something, but I don't know what. There are other pictures of the couple, this time with a little baby boy. He has his father's messy mop of hair and his mother's green eyes. I feel myself smile and wonder how it's possible to smile without a body.
A noise makes me turn around. It's the man from the photos. He's carrying the little boy in his arms, smiling down at him with adoration in his eyes. The redhead follows him into the living room, watching the two of them with a smile and love in her eyes. I feel a pang of jealousy. I always wanted children, but… well, the world was too cruel a place for that. Besides, Thomas had lost his son and didn't want another. I could understand that. I spend the next hour or so just watching them play with the child, a bittersweet feeling in my chest. I don't know where I am, but I know it isn't the world I come from. There is no such happiness in my world. Only pain, only bitterness.
There is a loud blast as the front door explodes into a million pieces. The man thrusts the boy into his mother's arms and is on his feet in a flash, wand at the ready.
„He's here! Get Harry to safety!"
I know who he is. There is only one he. So this is my world and Voldemort survived our explosion. We failed. The woman clutches the now crying child as she sprints up the stairs. The man turns towards the door, fear plainly on his face, his hands shaking, but he doesn't run. I feel a wave of admiration run through me as I watch him. I haven't known many men as brave as this one. I turn towards the door and watch as Lord Voldemort walks through the door. His appearance startles me. It's him, no doubt, but… He looks different. The Voldemort I know looks like a walking corpse with red eyes and slits for nostrils. This … this looks like a man. A dangerous and deadly man, but a man nevertheless. His eyes are red, and he's deathly pale, but… He has hair. I am aware of the fact that this is the wrong moment to be thinking about the fact that Lord Voldemort has hair, but the sight is so strange to me that I can't help but stare.
« Potter »
Voldemort's voice is as high and cold as I remember it, void of any human compassion.
« Step aside and I shall spare you. »
It's a lie! you want to yell, but you have no voice to use. Potter, as Voldemort called him, seems to know as much himself. He shakes his head, trying to find his voice.
„Never."
I swear I see Voldemort shrug.
„Then die. AVADA KEDAVRA!"
Potter, the brave loving father who just spent the last hours playing with his son and wife, drops to the ground. Dead. I want to scream, but I can't. Voldemort steps over the dead body, ignoring the empty brown eyes staring up at him. He doesn't care. He lost his ability to care long before this night. He's heading fort he stairs and I realize what he's after. The boy! I don't know why but I know I cannot let him harm that boy. Not an innocent child. I have no clue how, but I know I must stop him. I follow him up the stairs to a shut room where I hear the child crying as the mother whispers comforting words in a shaky voice. Voldemort blasts through the door and I slip past him into the room. The woman puts the child into the crib behind her and stands in front of it protectively.
„Not Harry! Please not Harry!", she begs, tears running down her face. Doesn't she know that he doesn't care?
„Step aside woman."
„Kill me instead! Spare Harry! He's a child!"
Voldemort raises his wand, there is a flash of green light, and I watch the second parent die bravely protecting her child. I feel wild panic as I watch him approach the child crying for his mother. He raises his wand and, at the very moment that he speaks the deadly curse I will myself in front of the jet of green light, not knowing what else to do. The spell connects, I can feel it despite my lack of body, and passes through me onto the boy. There is a blast, a white hot powerful blast and I feel despair because I know I've failed. I hear the soft sound of a baby crying then everything is gone.