[ TRIGGER WARNING: This might not be the best fiction for individuals who are struggling with the question of whether their life is worthwhile. ]
In JKR's works, the children's whimsy in The Philosopher's Stone gives way to the dark young adult dystopia of The Deathly Hallows. As a result, thoughtful readers are forced to reconsider books 1 - 3 and view them through the lens created by what we learn in books 4 - 7. Unfortunately what is seen from that viewpoint is rather horrifying.
As a result, I've wondered whether it was possible to construct a magical world that included many of JKR's amazing creations, but excluded at least some of the myriad contradictions and conundrums she also created. So, like so many others, I began work on a long fiction. But the further I went, the more complicated the going got. I kept crashing into yet another inconsistency or contradiction.
So, I did a reboot. I thought I'd see if I would work out some of my ideas in the form of a series of short stories, each addressing a different problem or solution.
Effects of a Stinted Love attempted a realistic look at what Harry might actually be like, if he was abused as in canon - no more; no less. Indirectly, it expresses my conclusion that, had Harry been abused as he was in canon, no further serious story was possible. Thus, any psychologically realistic story has to supply some mechanism to avoid that level of abuse.
The current effort examines the threat posed by mind magic, and why it seems to be to be an almost insurmountable barrier on the path to Harry's independence and happiness.
So on to the effects of coming of age in a world of rampant mind-magic.
"I wrote this?" Hermione asked. Her voice echoed in the dark Chamber.
"I'm quite sure you did. It's your handwriting, isn't it?" Harry responded.
"But this means we've fallen in love before."
Harry sighed. "Yeah. Yeah, it does. And always at the first of the year, when we've returned from vacation."
"But not when we spent the last weeks at the Burrow."
"No, not then. I'm sorry, Hermione. Obviously this has happened before. I mean, look at all these books. I wouldn't have gotten all these. Books on occlumency, legilimency, obliviation, mind control potions, love potions, confounding and compulsion charms - that had to have been you. But neither of us remember seeing these before. And two diaries, one in your handwriting, and one in mine. I remember being attracted to Cho, and to Ginny, but I can't figure out why. You remember being attracted to Ron, even though we can both clearly see that you'd be miserable together with him. All these are preserved solely because Dumbledore can't get in here, and doesn't realize that I still can since he blocked the entrance in Myrtle's bathroom. If I'd never found the second entrance to the Chamber - or if he had discovered it during one of his many attacks on my mind - no record would have been possible."
"How did you know to come here, and look for this?"
"I got in the habit at the Dursleys of making notes about what they did, and hiding them after I heard a discussion at primary school about child abuse. I was keeping those notes so I could bring charges against the Dursleys. But after a couple of years, I found that I had notes about being abused especially badly, and I could remember nothing of it. I mean, I could remember when they beat or starved me, but I couldn't remember when they broke both of my arms."
"Oh, Harry. I'm so sorry."
"Anyhow, by the time I came here, I realized something was making me forget bad things. When I learned about obliviation because of Lockhart, I realized what was happening. I began using my cloak to study everything I could about mind magic. I also would make simple notes about what I learned, and hide them in the places I've learned to use . . . and not think about. I hid the bigger things here."
"So, someone here Hogwarts is doing this to us?"
"Not just someone, several someones according to the notes. The ones I know about, from the notes are Dumbledore, Snape and Molly. And not just on us, but on some of the other students and teachers."
"What are we going to do, Harry?"
"I wish I knew. But let's do this first: I found some diagnostic spells in one of your books. Read the part I marked; you always learn new spells faster than I can. Use them on me, and then teach me, and I'll use them on you."
"Ok, Harry"
It took them nearly three hours to read through, and practice the words and movements. They had become both hungry and thirsty, but knew they could not leave. Two spells detected past mind magic; recent love or compulsion potion intake; and two detected binding or restrictions on mental or magical ability. Finally, Hermione was ready. She performed the spells to detect bindings and restrictions, first. The results stunned her.
"Oh, Harry. Oh, Harry."
"What?"
"The output of these spells is crude - wizards don't do accurate numerical measures. But it looks like you've been dumbed down, at least 3 or 4 grade levels. Without these bindings, you'd might even be smarter than me. And, the magical binding is just as bad. Apparently, you have a natural resistance to mind magic. That's probably why you can throw off the imperius, and why Veela allure doesn't affect you much. But your mind magic ability has been restricted by more than one half. And Harry, as powerful as you are, your magic has been reduced by two thirds."
"Yeah, I'm not surprised."
"What do you mean, Harry?"
"I figured out several years ago that Dumbledore wanted me to be some sort of sacrifice. I mean, he's pointed me at Voldemort again and again - don't look at me like that; between his wards, the elves, the ghosts and the paintings all reporting to him, he only is ignorant of things he wants to be ignorant of - and he's done nothing to prepare me. Well, he's shown me hours and hours of memories about Riddle. Maybe I'm supposed to develop a sympathy for him?"
"I don't think so, Harry. But I agree, he hasn't trained you."
"It's more than that, Hermione. I read the book on teaching occlumency. What Snape did with me last year broke down any remaining mental resistance I had."
Hermione looked sick. "I don't know what to say. Let me do the other spells, and then we'll talk more."
She performed the compulsion and love potion detection; Ginny's face and form floated between them. Harry sighed. But she turned white, when she performed the mind magic detection.
"What?"
"Harry, you've been obliviated hundreds of times; literally hundreds. That's certain to have caused permanent mind damage."
"Oh, it has. I used to be quite good at memorizing things. Now I struggle to remember the names of spells I've known for years."
"I can't bear it. Just do the mind magic detection on me."
"Hermione, does each dot in the white circle match each time you were obliviated?"
She nodded.
"Ok. Less than a hundred."
She relaxed.
". . . but more than fifty."
She turned white. "So, I've been damaged, too."
"Yes, he's killing us. And I don't know why."
"What can we do, Harry?"
"I don't think there's anything. McGonagall is almost certainly in on it, and of course Snape is helping. Flitwick may or may not be, but he won't cross Dumbledore. As a half-breed goblin, he's despised by wizards and goblins alike. Hogwarts is the only place where he could get a job. He was only able to duel competitively because Albus helped him."
"So we just give in."
Harry sighed. "Yes, we give in. Hermione we've both been permanently damaged, mentally and magically, by people who understand this far better than we do. If there was ever a chance, it was two years ago, after the tournament. We were much smarter and stronger at that time than we are now. Once we leave here, Dumbledore will call us to his office, one at a time. And when we leave, we'll be weaker yet, and remember none of this. Amazingly he's never noticed the memories I have of my notes, but he may find and remove them this time. Regardless we have no way to oppose him, and no allies."
"Harry, you've overcome so much. Surely, there's a way!"
"Hermione, everything I've done was stage-managed, leading me to a purpose we don't understand. My guess is that Dumbledore wants me to fight Voldemort and lose, but I don't know why. I'm not sure how the horcruxes play into that. But you have to remember, we have no allies. Sirius is gone. Remus belongs to Dumbledore, as does Hagrid. Even if she's not part of it, McGonagall believes Dumbledore can do no wrong. Molly wants you for Ron, and me for Ginny, though if I'm going to die, I don't really understand why. Beyond those, we have no family who can help; no magical allies, and no way to stand for ourselves. I tried using Dobby, but Dumbledore has bound him personally. He had to punish himself a lot, after he told me that."
"So, they are going to use us, and then throw us away?"
"Me, they are going to use and throw away, probably after Ginny gets my vault. You are going to get Ron through Hogwarts, and then be his mistress, or maybe, his housewife."
"No. I won't! I'd rather kill myself!" She gritted her teeth.
"That is the only way out."
"Wait. What? No! You can't mean that?"
"Ok, Hermione. Tell me another option."
"Let me think. Just let me think!"
Hermione stalked off to another corner of the Chamber. Harry waited patiently. After almost an hour, she came back, tears streaming. She flung her arms around him, kissed him, and then rested her head against his neck, sobbing.
Finally she calmed down enough to speak.
"There's another option, Harry." She choked back a sob, and then continued. "I'm not sure what's after death, but all religions consider suicide wrong, dangerously wrong. So I think that would be undesirable for us to use that method. If there's no afterlife; if we are simply extinguished with death, if there's no life after death, then it won't matter. But I'm not sure. And if there is life after death, I don't want us to arrive having just killed ourselves."
She began sobbing again. Harry waited patiently, until she could continue.
"But there's another option. It's not always considered wrong to perform a mercy killing of another soldier facing torture or the like. You are correct that the only way we can escape their plans is to die. But I think suicide is not the best option. I think it would be safer for us to kill each other than to commit suicide."
"OK. But how should we do that?"
"Oh, Harry, it shouldn't be too hard. If we put our wands against each other's neck, and cast on a count of three, that would do it. We're still powerful enough, even with the restrictions, to cast a cutting charm that will sever both the carotid artery and the jugular vein. It shouldn't be very painful, and the blood loss will should make us unconscious in 30 seconds or less. And, if we are sitting back when we do it, we should have time to do it again, if we don't cut deep enough the first time."
"Hermione, I'm willing. I love you, and they will take that away from me, kill me, and give you to that red-haired pig. There's no future for me, and no one else for me besides you."
"I know Harry. I love my parents, but Ron despises them, so I'll be separated from them, dead or alive. Let's practice the spells."
After a few moments practice, they both felt confident that they could achieve the necessary results. They carefully positioned themselves, seated on the floor, backs on the wall, turned toward each other, so they would not fall away from each other after the first spell. Harry kissed Hermione again, and then re-positioned himself. He began counting down.
"Three. Two. One. Diffindo!"
Blood spurted from both their necks, spraying the wall on each side of them. Harry smiled at Hermione, through the pain. The spray became spurts, and then dribbles. Seconds later, they were both still, their bodies leaning against each other.
Their bones did not lie there alone, nor even forever. But despite of the massive search mounted by Dumbledore and McGonagall, they did lie there, undisturbed and together, long after the castle had been abandoned.
With Harry & Hermione gone, Dumbledore had little reason to continue his charade. Their disappearance put the political drama he'd long planned out of reach. Not that it mattered. His lust for power had conquered his caution when he realized the identity of the Horcrux in the Gaunt shack. The third and final Hallow was finally in his grasp! By the time he realized there was a powerful hidden curse layered onto the ring, it was much too late. A quick severing charm had detached the arm, but the magical curse had already reached further than that. Snape's best efforts were only slightly delaying his death. Worse, the curse somehow prevented him from creating his own horcrux, a fact he discovered only after the Creevy boy's death.
Even so, within a month, all but one of Riddle's horcruxes were gone. Dumbledore wondered somewhat nervously what had happened to the soul piece in Harry's head. No matter. Once he'd taken care of the other horcruxes, he killed Riddle, mostly for revenge. If he couldn't rule the magical world he certainly wasn't going to let Riddle have it!
It shocked everyone, when he used a dark spell to take Riddle out. But he was dying, and had no heirs. And, reputation means little to dead men.
Or so he thought.
Unlike Harry and Hermione, he was convinced that there was no real life after death and that ghosts were simply 'extinguished' when they "passed on". So when he died, several months after Riddle's death, he was quite surprised to find he'd been wrong.
Rather badly wrong, as it turned out.
