Gift From Beyond
Am I rich? No, I'm not. Thus, I'm not the owner of this wonderful series we know as Harry Potter. Characters and the rest of the lot are property of the amazing JKR!
I.
"Not Teddy! Please, no, not Teddy –I'll do anything!"
"Anything you say? Well, all I want from you, Potter, is for you to die!"
The inside of the cottage was suddenly bathed in a bright green that revealed a young man clutching desperately at the small bundle in his hands. Throwing himself to the side, the dark-haired man quickly ran up the stairs, flinging wandless spells back at the intruder.
Reaching the last room, he darted inside before shutting the door and spelling the strongest wards Harry knew, which frankly enough, wasn't much –but it would due.
Five minutes.
"Kreacher! Oh god, Kreacher, come here!"
A crack was all the warning Harry received before the small house-elf appeared, his wrinkled face showing fear as he felt the restraining wards bind his magic completely.
"Master Harry be needing me?"
"I –yes, I need you to do me one last order as your Master. There is a, a wizard, here who will kill me soon. I need you to take Teddy with you and escape the moment you feel my magic try to save me. It won't; instead, my magic will rip through the wards for just a few seconds –that's when you leave here with my godson. Will you do it Kreacher?"
Four minutes.
Tears filling the elf's bloodshot eyes, Kreacher whispered quietly, "Yes, Master Harry. Kreacher will leave with young Master Teddy. You be dying like good Master Regulus? Kreacher can't leave you behind Master Harry! Not like Master Regulus!"
Face softening at the house-elf's words, Harry knelt in front of Kreacher, gently bringing the weeping elf into a hug. "You're a good elf, Kreacher –never let anyone say otherwise. If it will ease your heart, then you may come back for me later. But only if and when Teddy is safe with one my friends –Ron or Hermione or anyone else from the Weasley family; Teddy comes first."
Crying even harder, Kreacher nodded, "Yes, yes –young Master Teddy will come first, always. Kreacher will come back for Master Harry; yes, Kreacher will!"
"Thank you Kreacher –you're a true friend; you have honoured me by serving me. Take care of yourself."
Three minutes.
As Kreacher stood silently by Harry's side, Harry turned his attention towards his little godson even while he felt his wards become weaker and weaker as the seconds went by.
Dark brown eyes stared back at him before they shifted, becoming a shade of green he knew well as the wisps of hairs turned from a light brown to pure black.
"Oh, Teddy, forgive me. I don't want to leave you –not like this, not like my own parents left me. But I understand now, how my mum and dad could both look Voldemort in the eye without fear or doubt. When you're protecting something –someone –you love, there's no room for doubt and fear and what-if's. You only feel the love you have for your family; you're my family Teddy."
Wide, intelligent green eyes stared into Harry's own, "I love you Teddy –more than life itself. Never forget that. You –you're the son I never had, you, Teddy Lupin, and only you. I will always love you, your parents will always love you too, and the Weasleys will love you, have no doubt."
He could feel the wards weakening, slowly; they would fall soon.
Two minutes.
Small hands grabbed Harry's hair, tugging them towards an open mouth before being not-so-gently shoved inside said drool filled mouth.
Only the tightening of Harry's arms showed his grief and guilt and maybe even a touch of fear. The young wizard rocked Teddy gently, humming the only lullaby he had ever heard a mother sing to her unruly baby in the park not far from the Dursleys a long time ago.
One minute.
Pressing kisses onto the small face rounded with baby fat, Harry let his eyes drink in the sight of his sweet little innocent godson who had done no wrong, and yet, had lost his parents only hours after his birth. Now, he would lose his godfather only a year after that –on Halloween.
The disturbing similarities between the two did not escape Harry, but he chose to ignore them.
"I love you, my little Teddy-bear. Love you forever."
Zero minutes.
The wards fell with a violate surge of magic, the door blasted off its hinges, the windows shattered, pieces of glass lying on the floor.
"Crucio!"
Before the pain hit Harry gave his godson over to Kreacher, Teddy's warmth fading from his arms as Harry let out a blood-curdling scream as his body shook with the horrible effects of the curse.
At seeing his Master be in such pain, Kreacher quickly covered the young Master's eyes and mouth before hiding themselves in a corner and waiting for it all to end.
"Playtime's over, now –it's time for you to see your worthless parents. And I've the grand honour of sending you to them –lucky me. Aveda Kedavra!"
II.
There was something incredibly haunting about the Wizarding world's moving photos –they forever capture a single, precious moment within them and display that treasured instance in a continuous loop. In a way, that was both soothing and unbearable.
At least, that's what Teddy Lupin would say if anyone asked his opinion on the matter.
Long fingers tenderly stroked the surface of one particular photo, tracing the delicate features of a young man that had never quite grown out of his boyhood. He had been killed at the stunning age of nineteen years old –two years younger than when his own parents had died.
Harry Potter, The-Boy-Who-Lived, Saviour of the Wizarding world, Gryffindor Golden Boy, Defeater-Of-He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named, and.…Teddy's godfather.
It was the last one that Teddy could ever bring himself to care about. What did it matter if Harry had done impossible things since before he could walk? In the end, all those stupid, Gryffindorish stunts were the reason Harry died so young.
His godfather could have lived, could have if only he had left behind a one-year old Teddy; but he didn't.
And that hurt –to know that he was the only reason why his godfather would never age alongside Uncle Ron and Aunt Hermione, both who were now thirty-seven years old, married, and proud parents of two young children.
Eyes never straying from the well-worn photo in his hand, Teddy wondered what his godfather would have been liked if he were alive.
According to everyone that had known Harry, he had been a true Gryffindor through and through, had been wary of Slytherins until after the war had ended, when Harry had, as Aunt Hermione had put it, "Grown up and seen the flowers,". But there was one fact Teddy was certain about, his godfather would have been the greatest healer in centuries.
Harry had been self-studying to become a healer while taking care of Teddy; and as the photo in his hand shows, he had passed the exams with flying colours if his new healer robes and diploma were any indication.
"Are you looking at that again, Teddy? 'Mione told you already it does no good to look at a bloody photo as if it where the Quidditch cup!"
Stiffing slightly, Teddy turned around to look at his uncle, giving a wan half-smile in response.
"She has, Uncle Ron, many times."
Face losing its redness, the older man sighed before coming to stand side-by-side with his nephew in all but blood.
"Then why do you keep doing it? I swear that one year Harry took care of you was enough for you to get his stubbornness! Sometimes I really wonder if Harry hadn't been your real dad –you act like him so much it's hard not to wonder."
Cracking a grin at his uncle's complaint – it wasn't anything new, but it never failed to fill Teddy with pride whenever it was brought up – he kept looking at the photo, grin turning into a little sad half-smile just as it always did.
"I'm pretty sure Harry wasn't my dad. When would he had have time to hook up with my mum? Between Hogwarts, trying to defeat Voldemort, and watching you and Aunt Hermione going at it like cats and dogs until you guys finally stopped being so stubborn, he wouldn't have had any time."
Face reddening into an unhealthy tomato colour, the redhead's mouth was hanging wide-open with sheer denial.
"Oi! You bloody prat! You even sounded like Harry too!"
Laughing at his uncle's face, Teddy's eyes wandered back to the photo and he knew his uncle was doing the same. No matter how much time passed, how the years slowly crawled by, the remaining part of the 'Golden Trio' had never really recovered from Harry's death.
Harry had been the glue that had held them all together –he was responsible for their marriage after all. It had been Harry that had given Hermione to Ron at their wedding since Mr Granger had been killed by Death Eaters along with his wife and many other muggles.
He had even had the balls to threatened his best mate if Ron ever treated Hermione less than she deserved –which practically meant the redhead better thank Merlin every day for getting someone like Hermione as his wife.
It was a favourite tale told in the Weasley household in remembrance to the uncle that Rose and Hugh would never know.
"Uncle Ron, will it ever stop hurting? I know looking at the photos won't be doing any favours for me, but…how can't I? He looks so alive.…"
From the corner of his eyes he saw the redhead's face become drawn and tight with the dull pain that always came when Harry was brought up. Another set of fingers softly touched the aged-old photo, blue eyes darken with a years-long yearning for the best mate that was taken much too soon.
"I'm not a brilliant person –not like 'Mione is when it comes to books or how Harry was when it came to magic – but I did – do – know how my best mate was; and Teddy, Harry never looked that alive, happy…carefree 'til you came along."
Ron stopped for a moment, gaze never wavering from the young, nineteen year old boy – because no matter what the law said, Harry would always be a child; the lost little orphan who knew no love until he came to Hogwarts – that was happily waving back at him, a diploma tightly clutched in one hand while the other held a one year old baby with wide green eyes and messy black hair.
The dark green robes trimmed with silver edges wrapped around the rather small boy elegantly, looking for all the world as if he had been meant to wear them; Harry's long black hair –he had grown it out in honour of Sirius – tied with a silver ribbon, bangs carelessly brushing the edges of his own emerald-shade eyes that were brighter than Ron could ever remember them being.
A beaming smile was directed at him as his best mate happily spun himself and Teddy in circles with his robes floating alongside him and his lips opening in soundless laughter. Little Teddy was following his godfather's example and laughing too.
Both looked happier than Ron knew they had ever been and, in Teddy's case, would ever be.
That's why it hurt so much to look at this one, particular photo – it had been taken the day Harry received his healer's diploma, the day before Halloween…the day before Harry's death.
"Believe me when I say that you were Harry's pride and joy. The first few days he took care of you he wouldn't bloody shut up about you! It was always 'Teddy did this…' or 'Teddy did that…', that I honestly thought he had gone mental!"
Laughing despite himself, Teddy gained a soft look that only appeared whenever his godfather was mentioned.
"Did he really? How is it possible that someone his age was so happy about taking care of a baby?!"
Ripping his eyes from the happy teen waving wildly from the photo, Ron grinned.
"Harry was an odd one. He never knew his family, but the family he did get to know, he loved completely without thought; you were his godson and that made you family. He loved you like you were his own, and besides, out of anyone I knew back then, Harry would have been the best one for the job of godfather, not to mention father."
Uncomfortable at the highly emotional comments he had been making, the redhead shifted slightly before forging on bravely, if not a little recklessly.
"And to answer your question, Teddy, it never stops hurting. Even if years go by, it's always there…a dull little ache of pain and guilt and sadness and anger. But Harry, well, he wouldn't want us to feel sad after so long, but we're a stubborn lot, aren't we? The best we can do, I think, is to honour his choice – he chose to die for you, and he did it out of love. I'm sure that wherever he is now, Harry's watching over all of us; he's too much of a Hufflepuff to do anything else."
Smiling happily for the first time in days – it was close to Halloween after all – Teddy had to wait before he could control his laughter.
"Yeah, you're probably right Uncle Ron. Harry was….he was the greatest man I knew, even if I only knew him for a year while I was still a baby. The bravest too, willingly staying behind for my sake…I just wish that it hadn't ended the way it did. Out of all the people in this world, my godfather is the one that deserves a second chance at life the most. Has more right to it than anyone else, I think…"
Gripping his nephew's shoulder tightly, Ron nodded grimly.
"Bloody right you are! I wish that too, sometimes, 'Mione does the same and some days we just sit down and wish it had been different…that Harry did get a second chance…but death can't be cheated. That doesn't stop us from wishing though."
Tracing the old photo, Teddy nodded softly.
"It doesn't stop me either."
III.
It had been an accident.
The day he discovered it; Severus had been letting his anger at the so-called Marauders out by wandering the silent halls of Hogwarts while everyone else was still occupied in the Great Hall, stuffing their faces with food.
Even here, in the grand castle filled with wonders Severus had dreamed of since he was just a little boy listening to his mother's schooldays tales, watching her pale, strained face transform from that of a tired woman's to that of a little girl's that still longed for the wizarding world and all of its brilliant wonders – even here, Severus's happiness was tainted.
He was still the same thin, ugly, pale-faced boy that would be bullied and ridiculed by others as he had been back at Spinner's End; the only difference, really, was that his tormentors had changed faces.
James Potter, Sirius Black, Remus Lupin, and Peter Pettigrew – they were his tormentors now.
And as if to add to his pain, James blasted Potter had taken to following around Lily – Severus's best friend! – like a lost puppy trailing after the first person that had paid it attention. His fierce redhead friend had given Potter a verbal dressing down that he wouldn't soon forget, but still, the idiotic Gryffindor foolishly continued his attempts of befriending Lily.
It all just added up after a month that Severus had had enough, which brought the first-year Slytherin to an unexplored (for him) hall that branched out from the main one he was currently travelling through.
His interest raised, Severus carefully made his way down the dark hall, his sharp eyes taking in the fine layer of dust that must have lain undisturbed for quite some time before his arrival.
The further he went, the more uncomfortable he felt, until by the time he had reached the end of the hall and stood in front of an elegant door that had seen better days, Severus was chilled to his bones by the emotions escaping from the closed door.
Something horrible had happened inside that chamber – something terrible and horrible and tragic that had left the emotions of whoever had suffered inside imprinted within the walls.
Severus's magic begged to leave, to turn around and forget this ever happened – and yet, another part of him wanted, needed, to know.
A single trembling hand reached out, pale fingers gripping the dull silver of the knob and turning it. It opened without a sound, swinging soundlessly to reveal its unseen treasures for the first time in centuries.
Sorrow. That was the first thing Severus felt before going through a cycle of fear and anger, desperation and denial, and finally, of resigned acceptance and peace.
His sight flashed with colours – black and white, red, so much red, and then green, so bright, unnaturally bright, eerie.
Falling to his knees, Severus drew in sharp breaths, face waxed and pale from fear. Regaining his breath, the young Slytherin stood back up slowly, his dark eyes taking in the perfectly made bed in the centre, sheets of silk covering it while undeniably soft pillows lay untouched at the head.
A grand window that spanned the height of one wall was situated to the left of the bed, warm rays from the evening sun falling onto the bed and stone floor, creating shadows that twisted and turned uneasily.
Beside the window, a desk stood, its top filled with scattered parchments written on, a pot of ink and a quill just lying inches from them, awaiting an owner that would never come back. A half-pushed chair completed the disquieting picture, showing that whoever had once worked there had left in a hurry – or had been given no choice in the matter.
A fireplace on the wall to the right of the bed, its warmth long extinguished while two sofas and a lone straight-backed chair took the space in front of the fireplace. Nestled carefully on the lone chair was a dark wooden violin, obviously at one time well-taken care of and loved dearly by its owner.
Just a bit further from that loomed a tall bookcase that was filled to the brim with old books; some so tightly packed that it would be almost impossible to take them out without bringing the entire thing down.
However finely ornate the chamber was, the thick layers of dust that covered everything revealed a different tale – a sadder one of abandonment and solitude rather than of royalty and wealth.
None of this quite registered in Severus's mind as his eyes were drawn to the wall opposite of him where a grand portrait hung in the middle. Its frame was tarnished silver designed like weaving vines of roses that only enchanted the person within the frame even more.
Long black hair was tied back by a silver ribbon while bangs were left carelessly free, just barely touching the edges of bewitching green eyes that not even Lily's own could ever hope to compare. A delicate face with pale skin and red lips added to the boy's beauty – aristocratic features showing his good blood.
In his hands was a copy of the wooden violin that was lying in the straight-backed chair, fingers forever paused in motion. The slender boy wearing high-tailored robes stood in a painted version of the chamber Severus was in, leaving little doubt as to who, exactly, had met death within these walls.
"But why…why isn't he moving?" the question slipped from Severus's mouth before he was even aware of what he was doing, breaking the silence that had descended upon the chamber since years ago.
Startled, he looked around quickly and when he made sure that nothing would be coming after him because of his disturbance, looked back at the bewitching boy with the sad, otherworldly emerald eyes.
Hours passed and still Severus stayed inside the chamber, exploring it while always coming back to stand directly in front of the portrait. The young Slytherin carefully read the written letters that were left scattered on top of the desk, which really just left him with more questions than answers.
All the letters were addressed to the same person, but as Severus went through the relatively thin stack, he got the feeling that the strange boy had been too afraid to write to anyone else but 'Mia'.
Dear 'Mia,
Both you and that thick man you call your husband are better friends than I should have gotten…
…things are getting worse as the days go by. No one is willingly to face the King for anything, not even for people that were their childhood friends. Just the other day…
Everyone in the village has lost their bloody minds! They are looking to me for help – for protection! – just because my…
…how glad I am that both of you are far away from this horrible destruction. Our village is but a sad shadow of what it once was…
Do me a favour, would you 'Mia? If anything happens to me…
…all the children taken in chains, forced to walk through the streets as their parents, sisters, brothers, uncles, and aunts did nothing…
I have been in hiding for nearly a year; and yet, even with the passing of days my fear does not lessen…
…how did you know? But I suppose that does not matter; what matters is that yes, I keep a copy of the letters I send to you – it helps somewhat. To cope, I mean, with everything that's happening around me that's like a nightmarish world that will not rest….
I have heard whispers as of late, telling of the King's coming to the village…
Oh, 'Mia! I fear my days are drawing to a close – I know the King will fine me soon, and so I shall entrust my little Teddy to you…
He will find me tomorrow. Today I shall burn all your letters. I –
Here the writing was blotched, ink spattered across the page like blood across a cold stone floor.
I will write my final letter tomorrow. Everything I want to say to all of you will be in it. Trust me, I will finish it and send it before he finds me – I promise….
I love you – all of you. Each of you are my family, it matters not if we are not bound by blood. I shall love you forever, be it in life or in death. Live a long life, each of you, a long life filled with happiness, and if you do that for me, then I shall be happy. And please, let Teddy know that I lov –
That's it, just a half-written letter that was spattered with dark stains that seem to be red when hit with a certain amount of light.
A growing sense of dread filled Severus, a chill settling deep in his bones as he realises that in the end, the black-haired boy had failed in his promise. He never got the chance to send this one last letter – he had been found just as he was about to the write the last sentence.
Dropping the letter from his hand, he looked back at the portrait, Severus's breaths coming in short gasps.
"What did they do to you?! You – you died…in here."
Swaying slightly on his feet, Severus collapsed to his knees, rocking himself back and forth in order to ward off the chill that seemed determined to cling to his bones.
So preoccupied was he with the chamber and the letter's horrific words, that the young Slytherin didn't even realise that the evening was drawing to a close, the last rays of sunlight falling away only be replaced by the light of the moon.
The lonely moon rose up in the night sky, its rays piercing through the grand window and bathing the unmoving portrait with its cool, silver light; creating shadows to dance across the boy with the glowing green eyes.
The silence of the night filled the chamber as Severus continued to rock back and forth, his closed eyes still seeing the haunting final words of a young boy that had suffered so much before dying that his very emotions were forever imprinted within the room.
And then the silence was broken with the beginnings of a haunting melody of a violin that had Severus whipping his head to the portrait.
The previously unmoving boy was now letting his slender fingers pluck the thin strings and control the bow, decisive motions producing a tune that told more than words could ever hope to about the sadness that the green-eyed youth carried.
Drawn-out notes soon gave way to quick, fierce ones, pale fingers gliding across the strings while green eyes closed and unwillingly let a single tear fall and let his hands come to a gentle stop; the final notes filling the chamber completely and bringing it to life.
Still kneeing in front of the portrait in shock, Severus's eyes widen further when the boy opened his eyes and looked at him, shock overtaking the aristocratic features and making him appear more human and less unworldly.
A hesitatingly soft voice, as melodic as the violin had been, spoke from red lips, "Who are you?"
Well my dear readers, here's the latest crazy idea that has overtook my poor brain and made be slave over it! Forgive me for not updating in months, but school takes over my life more than I care to admit. So yeah…my muse decided it needed to make a Harry Potter fanfic that was kinda, sorta of time-travel. Poor Harry, the way I have things outlined, things won't be easy for him.
'Tis the sad way of life….
Anyways, I hope all you Harry Potter fans find something to enjoy out of this. Please leave a review on your way out! And feel free to leave suggestions for any specific scenes you want to see take place!
As for me, I going to bed and will conveniently ignore the fact that I should have done my math homework…I still have tomorrow anyways…
Until next time,
Uchiha Yukime