Title: Familiar Eyes
Author: FlippythePenguin
Rating: PG
Pairings: none.
Summary: Because Merriman never thought he'd see Jane staring through the eyes of another. Harry Potter crossover.
Warning: Death.
Disclaimer: I don't own the Harry Potter characters, nor do I own any from The Dark is Rising. They belong to their authors, publishers, and everything else.
Author Note: Basically, this is based on a dream I had after I watched Seeker for the first time. I didn't care much for the movies, I'd read the books anyday. If you see anything Atilla or I missed, please tell me so I can fix it! Thanks! My beta is XattilaX-theMONKEY.
Familiar Eyes
When the Dark was defeated long ago, Merriman knew the battle was not yet won. After all, Dark lives on as long as there is Light. Dark hung in the shadows and taunted children to tears as they clung to their blankets. It tore through the night and to some, it brought an odd sense of comfort.
Merriman knew not what was going to happen, only that something would. Will was off on his own, and Merriman was sent on one final mission.
He became a child again, growing into adulthood and watching many vessels of the Dark grow into maturity. Under an alias, he became a student at a magic school, and later on he became a teacher. He watched Tom Riddle- watching, observing, but never changing. He couldn't change it- it was forbidden to change the destiny already set before the boy, no matter how cruel it truly was.
The year he became Headmaster of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, he found a sense of peace by helping young children understand the great powers they were born with. The powers to protect, to heal, to save.
The year the small girl arrived, a muggleborn girl, he was struck with something akin horror.
She was intelligent, a Gryffindor. She was a brilliant potions student, friends with even those who should be enemies. She managed to find the good in everyone. She and a small Slytherin boy were the best of friends- and he could see the overlay of possible betrayal on him.
Nevertheless, he watched over her, guided her, while he knew he had seen those eyes, staring at him from another face. And he knew she was meant for Great and Terrible purposes, just as another girl had been long ago.
The year another boy in her grade, a rather arrogant boy with messy black hair and brown eyes, began to take notice of the girl, Merriman knew that in that moment that their fates were being sealed. He watched over them as the boy tried to win the girls heart. He was a prankster, him and his three best friends, and the girl did not like it.
One afternoon, their 5th year, he heard the tales of pranksters- called the Marauders- when they hurt the Slytherin boy. He watched through the memories of the messy haired boy as they ruthlessly teased him, and the girl had stood to his defense.
"Mudblood!" the Slytherin had cried at her, and watching her eyes grow cold and anger set over her heart, Merriman knew that through her eyes, he was watching his 'niece'.
He gave the prankster detention.
Merriman kept a watchful eye on one of the small boys that chased after the messy haired boy. Peter, as he was called, had traces of the Dark on his heart. Merriman knew, one day, somehow, this boy would cause great sadness. This single boy might deal a horrible deal that could destroy everything, or maybe he could save it.
As always, he could do nothing except watch over and try to guide them to the Light.
World-weary eyes wanted to weep as the girl grew up into a young woman, and those familiar eyes haunted him wherever he went. In his sleep, he remembered four small children, three of which he had once been called 'Great Uncle' and woke in the nights feeling as if his heart might crack.
The Marauders had matured after 5th year, and it was apparent that the girl had finally noticed. Their 7th and final year at Hogwarts, Merriman watched as the girl and the prankster began to date, and as a small misjudged Slytherin boy watched on with envious eyes.
Later that day, she requested an audience with him. Who was he to refuse?
She had stood awkwardly before his desk, looking unsure of herself. He had smiled, trying to look reassuring, even as Old memories resurfaced.
"Professor Dumbledore," she said. "I'm worried about my position as Head Girl."
He had asked, why? Does it displease you?
To which she had reassured that, no, no! "That's not the problem, Professor." she told him. " The problem is that, well, I'm muggleborn, and won't there be people displeased?"
He had smiled, and his eyes had twinkled famously from behind his spectacles. Does it matter, what other say, as long as you yourself believe in yourself? He asked her. If you have belief in yourself, if you believe in your abilities, anything is possible.
With a bright smile, looking relieved, she had thanked him and left his office, and he stared at the closed door, allowing himself the sadness he had felt the 7 years he had watched over her. Because no matter how hard he tried to deny it, through her eyes he was seeing another child he had tried to protect. One that had been lost to him even though she had helped to save everyone.
They left Hogwarts, each becoming what the truly loved. The girl and the Marauder married only a few years after Hogwarts, and he stood watching them, feeling like a proud parent, as they said their vows to one another. In photographs, you might even catch tears, but he would deny it with a twinkle in his eye when asked.
The year she became pregnant, he was interviewing a young Sybil Trelawnny. He had heard rumors of her Devination abilities. During that interview, she had spoken a prophecy, and in that moment he knew. This was the fate of Lily and James Potter, and the child she was carrying. The fear settled over his heart once more.
When Halloween of 1981 came about, he had been rather on edge. The Old Ones had warned him once, long long ago, that on Halloween anything that can happen, it will happen.
When he learned of the deaths of his former pupils, he wept to himself. But whether it was for the brave young woman, or the memory of another from long ago, he wasn't certain. Perhaps, in his own way, he wept for them both.
In the way the Dark was, it had truly hit him where it hurt.
When he traveled to Surrey, to place the child with his only living relatives, Hagrid was sobbing as he handed over the child. Merriman was out of tears though- he'd wept them all away long ago. When he gently opened the blankets to look at the small boy, he could feel it in his bones. If he had assumed Lily and James had a large destiny, this small boy was going to have impossibly large shoes to fill.
He left the child on the doorstep and he never looked back. He felt as if he never wanted to look back, because the face of this child would un-doubtfully bring her eyes again. If he ever saw a child with such sad eyes again, he would rather die then watch them in pain again. Then to see them forget everything again. For the world to forget about them as well.
For ten years he was content with hiding behind his office doors and his sparkling eyes. He was happy to teach children to believe in themselves. He was even alright with the laughter and the teasing because he knew that either way, they did not know he knew who would die and who would live.
The year Harry started at Hogwarts, the school came crumbling around him. What once had been his haven, his escape, was now his prison. Those eyes once again stared out at him through the face of a small innocent boy that grew up alone and friendless.
Merriman did his best. He tried to understand what it was that the boy needed to do, when he needed to interfere and when to stay behind. Every year, every time the boy lay helpless under white blankets in the Infirmary with the weight of the world on cold eyes, Merriman could feel the answers trying to slip out of his mouth and into the boys ears- he wanted Harry to understand, to know, to realize everything. He needed to know the prophecy, but every year those eyes stared up at him, the words died on his lips. One more year, he would promise himself. One more year, just one more mistake.
Third year. Third year the secrets began to unravel around them at the seems. Harry met his parents friends, the Marauders, and the boy who had destroyed everything by betraying the ones he loved. Peter had hung around Harry for years under a disguised as a rat, and Merriman had known this. Known, but could do nothing.
That was the year Will contacted him. How he had found him again, Merriman would never know. That would be their last meeting as he lived under his alias, even if at the time he did not realize it.
Will walked through his office doors one morning, looking no older than he had when Merriman had seen him last. He looked forever stuck as an young adult, still with his knobby knees and his too long legs that made him look ready to collapse. Will could pull it off in such a way that it looked graceful, and Merriman could not fathom why.
Will had sat down across from Merriman, and inquired on his health.
Fine, Merriman had replied, knowing he should feel stunned at the abrupt arrival of Will, but he felt nothing but cold.
Will had stared at him with thoughtful eyes. Will had always been the more thoughtful of the children, and Will also knew Merriman better then the others. Will stared out the window in the office, and did not speak for several long moments. When he did speak, he stared Merriman full in the face.
"Merriman, do you still blame yourself?" he asked.
No, he had lied. Even though he knew that Will would see straight through this lie he had been attempting to perfect for long years watching children grow and children die fighting in wars adults started. Fighting in wars not of their own, but of ignorance.
"They do not blame you. They may have forgotten, but we are still here to remember," Will said, and he left Merriman to stare out his window alone.
That summer passed more slowly then the rest.
When the boy entered his fifth year at Hogwarts, Merriman distanced himself. He didn't want the Dark to use him and through him, get the boy. The boy tried to talk to him, and there were moments where Merriman could see him hiding in the shadows and watching him with eyes of ice. Hatred burned through Harry like he had never seen before. He didn't know the Dark was influencing him, though. Not until Sirius died. Harry changed, and the Dark had almost taken over. But it had hurt the Dark to do so, it had been in pain, and when Harry broke free, Merriman knew it would never try again.
That was when the secrets came pouring out. Not all of them, never all of them, but he told the prophecy to the boy who had trashed his room with eyes full of hate and Merriman had wanted to recoil from him. He had wanted to hide under his desk and pretend those eyes didn't look so dead, didn't stare with fire.
The next year went by as he knew he was slowly dying. A single object, one that the Dark craved to own, was tearing him away slowly and he did not fear his death.
On a whim, always on a whim and never planned, he tore Harry into dark plots. Harry and his two friends became almost like an excuse, like a replacement, for four children long ago that the world forgot. He did not want these children to be forgotten as well. Children forgotten by everyone led cruel lives.
That night the Dark came. He and Harry traveled through a lake of screaming souls and he drank the Dark's poison in fragile hope, and his secrets tumbled over his lips in nonsense words that Harry could not fathom. The Dark pushed at his mind over and over again until he wept his last tears and begged for his death.
Frightened eyes brought him back, brought him back home, and he nearly wept when he realized that he had accomplished nothing at the lake of screaming souls. The Dark had fooled him entirely and completely. He was ready for his death, and his death was ready for him.
When the lonely envious Slytherin boy from all those years ago stared him down upon those tower steps, he spoke the words that needed to be said. Please, Severus. He begged. He did not plead to live, he wanted his death. He did not want to die by the Dark's hand, and green light enfolded him with gentle hands even as he soared through the sky and to the ground.
And when he died, he died with the taste of sadness on his lips. He never truly died- never truly rested. But as he watched his light fade away, Jane's eyes open wide with horror would haunt him, even in death.
End.