Ashes of my Life
The rain pounded against the windowpanes, creating a deafening roar that did not dim as the hours wore on. The Muggle televisions warned of "flash floods" and anyone with sense was in their safe, warm, house. On house, however, remained unlit. And it was to this house that Lilly was drawn to.
She was thoroughly soaked when she rang the doorbell of the gloomy, bleak residence. It was several minuets before Lilly heard any movement in the home, and several more before the door was opened. An old wizard stood their, dressed in black robes. His once black hair was gray, and his green eyes were dulled under a thick pair of spectacles.
What the heck did this girl want from him, he wondered. Then he realized it was raining. She probably just wanted out of the storm. His guess was confirmed when she said, "Please, sir, could I get out of the storm until it passes over? I got caught in the rain, and the Knight Bus didn't come (they're never reliable), and, oh, please?" She seemed so desperate, that instead of sending her away, the old wizard invited her in.
"It's not very warm or comfortable, mind," he said as he led her into the only lit room. A fire blazed in the stone fireplace. This room had no windows, and the walls were covered with wooden paneling, so the racket of the rain was muffled. "Sit," he commanded her, pointing to a chair. "I want to get a good look at you." She chose a faded, green couch to sit on.
His eyes glanced over her disheveled looks. The rain had soaked her black student robes, and her dirt blond hair hung heavily in front of her blue eyes. "What is your name?" he asked her.
"Lilly," she promptly responded as if speaking to a professor. His eyes seemed to glaze over for a moment. "Lilly," he repeated. "That was my mothers name." He shook himself. "How do you spell it?"
"L-i-l-l-y," she spelled. "Oh," was the response. "She spelled it with only one 'L'". Lilly almost apologized, for the man seemed so sad.
"Um, if you don't mind," she said speaking directly for the first time. "Who are you and what is your name?"
"Now, those are two completely different questions," he said with a small smile. "Which would you like me to answer first?"
"Um," said Lilly, taken aback, "Name?"
"Harry Potter," he waited for the familiar scanning of his forehead, and when she had spotted the scar amongst all the wrinkles, she said, "Are you THE Harry Potter?"
"I am," was the retort.
"But, you're suppose to be…" she couldn't seem to finish the sentence, so Harry finished it for her.
"Dead? I'm supposed to be dead? Don't believe everything you hear, Lilly. Rumors pay little respect for the truth."
When Lilly had recovered from the shock of not only finding Harry Potter alive, but meeting him in person, she went on, "But, that whole business with your child…," She looked up guiltily as his eyes unrepentantly filled with tears.
He took his glasses of with one hand and wiped his eyes with another. After an awkward silence, he spoke. "It's funny that you should come on today of all days. I have not spoken to anyone in years. Always alone, wrapped up in my own misery. By the time I came to realize how awful I was making life for myself, I thought I was too old to change. So here I am.
"I said it was funny, and I'll tell you why. Twenty years ago today, she died."
Lilly didn't know what to say. It was a little uncomfortable being told all this personal stuff by someone as legendary as Harry Potter. It was as if Merlin had suddenly showed up and started complaining about his indigestion.
But she had to say something. "Who died?" she asked timidly. He started, as if being pulled out of his dream world. He looked over his shoulder into the hallway, where the only visible window was. Turning around, he said, "Well, this storm is still going strong. It looks as if you might be here for a while." He sighed. "Would you like to hear a story, Lilly?"
She could hardly say no, so she nodded.
"Very well." He drew himself into a more comfortable position, and began to speak in a voice barely lower than a whisper.
"Right out of Hogwarts, I married a girl named Ginny Weasley. We had one son and named his Sirius, after my Godfather. The ten years before he left for school were some of the happiest of my life. Until Voldemort's power began to rise…
*************
Boom! Screams echoed through the air. Harry turned around and saw the Hogwarts castle smoking. It looked like he had gotten the astronomy tower…
Another blast, followed by more screams. Then a figure came from around the corner. It was him! "Run!" Harry screamed at the nearby students. They didn't need to by told twice.
Gathering up his courage, Harry desperately racked his mind for any sort of spell, any charm or enchantment that would help fight Voldemort. Finally, he thought of the confinement charm.
He muttred the words, and a faint, blue bubble appeared around Voldemort. It wasn't enough! The bubble was dying. Harry furiously tried to feed more power into it. It was no use, he simply wasn't powerful enough to contain Voldemort. In a few more seconds he would pass out…
Strangely, Harry's life was not flashing before his eyes. Nor was he thinking about all the things he had never done, or all the people he needed to say stuff to. He wasn't even focusing on a childhood memory. Instead, he was thinking about that morning.
It seemed almost impossible that barely two hours ago, he had been reading a letter, calm as can be.
It had read:
Dear Mum and Dad,
Hi! How are you? I'm doing fine. Hogwarts is so wonderful. My classes are so interesting. Charms class is probably my favorite, followed by Transfiguration.
I'm in Gryfendor, which should make you two happy. I share a dorm with three other boys, and I am making lots of new friends already. I miss you, and love you both.
Your Son,
Sirius
Harry had finished reading his son's letter. He had gone out the kitchen door and to the bottom of the stairs.
"Ginny!" he had called up to his wife. "An owl came with a letter from Sirius!"
"I'll be right down," she had yelled down the stairs. Harry went back into the kitchen and sat down, gobbling down his breakfast.
Ginny had walked into the kitchen a few moments later. "Where's the letter?" she asked.
"On the counter," Harry managed to say through a mouthful of toast.
"I knew he would fit in well. How could he not? He was so excited," she said after reading it.
"I have to admit, I was hoping he'd be in Gryfendor," Harry told his wife. He took a better look at her. Was it his imagination, or did she look green? "Ginny? Are you all right?" he had asked.
"I'm fine," was the reply. "Just a little queasy."
But Harry had not had time to question her further, because just then an owl had come flying through the open window.
Harry, Ginny-
Come immediately. Hogwarts under attack. You-Know-Who. Require assistance.
--Prof. Mc Gonagall
Of course, they had gotten there as soon as they could, but it was too late. Voldemort was attacking mercilessly.
And now Harry was going to pass out right at his greatest enemies feet. Or was he. Suddenly, his bubble around the Dark Lord seemed stronger. He looked behind him. There stood Ginny, a look of determination on her face, feeding the bubble.
Then a student stood up and helped, then another, and another. Soon anyone who was left was helping contain the figure. The tides of battle had turned, and Voldemort was losing. And he knew it.
"You think this is the last of me? I will be back, and it will take much more than a bubble to stop me!" And he vanished with a crack in a cloud of smoke, just like a old Muggle stage magician.
For a second, there was pure and utter silence. Not even the leaves on the trees dared to rustle. Then came the absolute chaos of finding people, identifying who was injured, and who was dead, and trying to restore just a bit of order.
Harry was in the middle of trying to help some second-years bandage a fifth-years leg when he heard Ginny scream. His heart stopped cold, and instantly his mind though just one word. Sirius.
He ran toward the sound of the scream. He found Ginny hunched over something on the lawn. If his heart had stopped cold just a moment before, now it was entirely dead.
On the ground lay the dead body of his son. Sirius. Harry didn't know what to do, so he sat down beside Ginny. She wrapped her arms around him and sobbed into his chest.
Harry didn't know how long he sat there, starring at the body, clutching desperately to Ginny. But a hour, or maybe it was a minute, latter, Professor McGonagal strode up the couple on the ground.
Her usually neat hair was pulled out of it's customary bun and flopped across her face. Her eyes brimmed with tears, but when she spoke, it was with a calm and steady voice. "Harry, Professor Dumbledore would like to see you. Alone," she said as she looked a Ginny.
Numbly, the woman let go of Harry. He had no choice but to follow Prosfessor McGonagal. To do otherwise would require thinking, and he wasn't sure if he was ready for that.
He was lead into a small office, one of the few not damaged by the attack. The door closed behinde him a the Professor left. Slowly a chair turned around to face him.
It was Dumbledore, but he looked older, weaker somehow. His eyes looked so tired, and the natural spark seemed to have permanently doused. He spoke with a worn and raspy voice, as if he had not used in a long time.
"Harry," he said, "I'm going to be very direct. As you can see, Voldemort is becoming stronger every day. I did not retire when I resigned the headmaster's potion, as many believed, but rather I fully committed myself to the destruction of Voldemort." He waited for these words to sink it.
Do something, Harry thought. Nod. He nodded.
"I am no great believer in divination or prophesies, but because of matters too complicated to explain, I have reached the conclusion that you are the only one who can truly overcome Voldemort." Dumbledore gave Harry one of his infamous piercing stares. Nod again.
"I am asking you to join my organization. You will be the vanguard of the fight."
Nod again.
"Do you fully realize what I am asking you to do? You will have to give up your old life entirely." He lowered his voice. "You will have to give up your life with Ginny."
For the first time since the loss of Sirius, Harry used his mind to think. Give up Ginny? That would hurt too much, he loved her too much. He had already lost his son, would he have to lose his wife as well? But then he remembered the destruction Voldemort had wreaked in just one morning. He wasn't the only parent who had lost a child. He could not be selfish.
Nod again. "I'll do it. Just let me say goodbye."
Harry silently approached the lady on sitting on the ground. She was staring at the blood. He put a hand on her shoulder. It took a moment for her to register the touch. She turned around and saw him, then she picked her self up and hugged his tight.
"Oh Harry," Ginny said to his shirt. "What are we going to do."
This was the moment. Harry had picked a thousand carefully chosen words to tell her, but they all seemed to fly away. He just couldn't say anything. So he kissed her.
And for the second time that day, time seemed to stand still. Maybe a minute, maybe an hour later, Harry broke the kiss and slowly walked away.
He could hear her calling out to him, first questioningly, then desperately, but because his back was to her, she could not see the tears in his eyes.
**************
That night in the hotel room, Harry Potter stared at his wedding ring. Amazing, really, how such a simple gold band could symbolize so much. Every day he would have to look at this. Every day he would be reminded of what he had left behind.
No. He wasn't going to do that. If he were going to truly commit himself to the defeat of the Dark Lord, he couldn't think like that. He had to close his heart. For the world's sake.
With difficulty, he wrenched the ring from his finger. With giving himself a chance to think, he went over to the window and opened it. A light breeze from the streets below entered.
Harry threw his ring out onto the cold, harsh cement. He stayed by the window long enough to here it clatter twice, then drop into the gutter. He did not want it back.
He went to the small bed and lay down. As his head sank into the pillow, he knew when he woke up, he would be a different… what? Man? Person? Character? Oh well. What did it matter?
He would be different.
***********
Harry Potter sat at a little pub in Albania. He looked at his drink. Such a pretty, amber liquid. What did Muggles call it? Oh yeh, beer. It was so much better than regular butterbeer. Butterbeer simply warmed you up, but this stuff went right to your core and hit it hard.
He did not often have time to slip into a pub, much less have a drink, so these rare, quiet moments were valued. The smoke around him, though irritating, did help to make the feel of seclusion complete. And if he sat at the bar itself, he didn't even have to face anybody.
It had been fifteen long years since that fateful night. No, that's not right, he thought as he rubbed his eyes. It was morning. Since that fateful morning.
He looked sadly at his beer glass, still three-quarters full. The glass reflected his warped image back. In the deepest part of his heart, the only place he still had not managed to turn cold, he still missed her. Ginny. I wonder where she is now, he thought.
Abruptly, he stood up. What was he doing? He couldn't think of stuff like this. He looked at the beer. He had only drunk one-quarter of it. Did this stuff really have that much of an effect? Or maybe it was simply the toll of the years.
Whatever it was, he did not have time for it now. Not when he was so close. He sighed. Voldemort-hunting had been his obsession for the past fifteen-years, and tomorrow might very well be the climax of his career.
He walked out of the pub. Tomorrow, he would go into the forest. Tomorrow, he might confront the Dark Lord. Tomorrow. But not tonight.
Tonight he would go to the hotel and rest. At least in sleep he would not be responsible for his dreams.
*****
The next morning found Harry walking quietly through the forest, expertly trained eyes constantly searching. There! Under that leaf! He bent down and picked up the brown leaf. Underneath was exactly what he was looking for. Burned into the wood were a skull and a snake. The Dark Mark. They probably had a meeting right here.
Taking a deep breath, he pressed the scorched spot. It burned his thumb and brought sweat to his forehead, where he could not see his scar burning brightly. But he held on. When he was sure he had sent enough power, he let the mark, now a deep, glowing red, go.
But something was wrong. The mark was beginning to turn green. Before he had time to react, a horrible wind swept through the forest. It shut out all sunlight, and tore through, knocking down many trees. It whipped around Harry, carrying him into icy blackness. What was this wind? It was so powerful he couldn't even open his eyes. Was he flying? Or still on the ground? It was impossible to tell. It was impossible to think with the deathly roar.
As suddenly as it began, it stopped. He was sprawled on the ground of a small stone chamber. Torches dimly lit the damp, cold walls. He warily stood up. This was definitely Dark Magic… When he had pressed the mark, the plan had been to bring a death eater to him. He wasn't supposed to travel anywhere.
Harry jumped as he realized he was not alone. In the corner of the bare room was a dark robed figure. He knew what it was before the thing even spoke.
"Harry Potter. We meet again," it said in its unnatural voice.
"Why did you bring me here?" Harry asked. "Why not tell one of your Death Eaters to finish me off?"
"Fifteen years in your little 'Organization' has lowered your self-confidence, Harry," the robe said in a mocking tone. ""Surely you can see you are far more important to trust to a servant. Don't worry, you will, of course, be killed. But first we are going to play a game."
Harry did not like the sound of this. A game with Voldemort. He almost wished Voldemort would kill him now and get it over with.
"You see, Harry Potter, you cost me a great deal of time and energy. I won it all back in the end, but that doesn't make the wound any better." He grinned evilly beneath his hood. The sight sent chills up Harry's spine. "You see, I must have my little revenges. Here's how the game works. You bring your daughter to me before midnight tomorrow, or Hogwarts will be destroyed." Voldemort leaned closer. "And this time, I will succeed."
"I don't have a dughter," Harry spat back before thinking.
"Don't play dumb with me," the Dear Lord replied, "It degrades us both." But then Voldemort took a long look at Harry. His grin spread. "You really don't know, do you? Oh, this is delicious." He took out his wand and muttered some inaudible words. Ropes of steel bound Harry tightly, digging into his arms and legs. He fell to the floor with a thud.
"That's better," said the Dark Lord from behind Harry. "Now I think it's time for a story. And I advise you to listen closely.
"Once there was a woman named Ginny Potter. She was happy, I believe, until one innocent autumn morning. Her son's school was attacked, and he was killed in the battle. And as she was grieving, here husband went off and left her without a word of explanation. Poor Ginny was just beside herself by this point. And on top of all that, she discovered that she was a month pregnant.
"This was just too much, she was never very strong, you see. She held herself together just long enough to have the girl, then she died."
Harry felt as if his heart had been ripped out when Voldemort uttered those words. All of Harry's hardness he had built up over the years was destroyed with one single tear. Ginny was dead. And he had a daughter. A daughter! But he couldn't reflect long, for Voldemort was barging ahead.
"This girl, named Molly after her late grandmother, goes to live her uncle Percy, but he's not exactly a father figure, so poor Molly grows up as much an orphan as you or me.
"And now you will bring her here. Remember what is at sake."
Before Harry could even think, there was a heavy blow to his head, and the world dissolved into blackness.
*****
When Harry awoke, the light seemed very bright and the back of his head hurt like hell. He struggled to remember what had happened. The memories all came flooding back at the same moment.
"Oh God," he whispered and lay his head back on the ground.
***********
The train creaked and groaned as it sped along the track. It was very odd to be back on the Hogwarts Express. It was taking Harry back after dropping off the student for the Christmas holidays. The train in general seemed so much smaller, and oddly silent without the usual excited voices.
After much thought, Harry was going to get his daughter. If she even was his daughter. This all might be part of Voldemort's "game." But if Hogwarts was in danger…
A lifetime ago, he might have had some issues with the idea of taking an innocent girl straight into the heart of Voldemort's reign. But not now. Harry had sacrificed before, and his hands were not clean. This will be no different, he reminded himself. This will be no different.
After way too short a time, the train arrived. He stepped onto the Hogsmeade platform. He too a deep breath. It was time.
*********
Harry's first thought when Professor McGonagall entered the room was "old." Her black hair was almost all white now, and her stern eyes had lines around them. Twenty-five years of being headmistress during the terror of Voldemort had taken its toll.
"Potter," she said as if he were still her Transfiguration student. "Your owl as informed me of the circumstances." His owl had simply said he wanted to take his daughter way for Christmas. He did not mention where. "This is the first time you've seen her, correct?" the professor asked, her eyes softening a little.
"Yes- um…" he wasn't sure how to begin. There were so many questions, and so little time. He settled on one. "Does she know I am her father?"
"She knows a Harry Potter is her father, but if she will recognize you, I simply cannot say." A pause, then, "Shall I send her in?" Harry nodded.
In walked a girl about fifteen years old. There was no doubt whose daughter she was. She had the green eyes of Harry, and the red hair and freckles of the Weasleys. In general, her body was skinny, just as Harry's had been at that age.
"Potter," Professor McGonagall said. At first, Harry thought she was talking to him. But then he realized she was talking to the girl. "I would like to meet-" she was cut off by the girl.
"I know who his is." She turned her eyes directly on Harry. "He's my dad."
There was an awkward pause. At last Harry spoke. "I've come to take you away. Just for Christmas holidays," he added when she looked alarmed.
"You will pack your things and leave tonight," the professor added. "I'm sorry this is so sudden, but I'm sure you will have a good time."
A good time. Right. Any time with Voldemort wanting to kill you was so much fun.
The girl walked out the door. Harry sighed and buried his head in his hands. He did have a daughter after all.
******************
"So where are we going?" Molly asked. She and Harry were on the Knight Bus, traveling to Albania. They were on the middle level, all by themselves. Most people seemed to prefer either the top or the bottom deck.
It was time to explain. She has to know, Harry reminded himself. "We are going to confront Voldemort." Molly, no doubt learning to fear the name from Percy, flinched.
"What?" she whispered.
"You heard me. If we don't, he will destroy Hogwarts."
"And… is it just us? Does anybody else know about this? I mean, we'll have backup from the Ministry, right?"
"Yes, no, and no," Harry responded, to weary to explain further.
"So…" Molly questioned, her face turning a little red, although from terror or anger, Harry didn't know. Perhaps both. "We are going, willingly, to seek out Voldemort without any kind of aid?"
"Yes," he said shortly.
"Are- are you joking or something? Do you have some sort of twisted humor?"
Harry was getting tired of this conversation. "Look, Molly, for the past fifteen years I have been on the trail of Voldemort. I have dedicated my very life to seeking him out and destroying him. Yesterday, I found him," Then, with a hint of defeat in his voice, Harry said, "Actually, he found me. If I don't bring you to him by midnight tomorrow, he will destroy Hogwarts. And that is not an empty threat."
"So, you're just going to bring me to him, no questions asked."
"Well what was I suppose to ask?" Harry said, his voice getting louder.
"How 'bout, 'how do you feel about this, Molly,' or maybe, 'Molly, would you be willing to do this?'"
"Well, aren't you willing to sacrifice your life for your friends?" Harry was now definitely shouting.
"Of course I am! But you didn't even ask me! You just show up, after fifteen years, and expect me to follow you right to You-Know-Who. You expect me to follow a total stranger." Harry started to open his mouth, but Molly interrupted him. "Yes! That's what you are, Dad, or Father, or Harry, or, I don't know what the hell I'm even suppose to call you!" She stopped shouting long enough to catch her breath.
"Well, I'm sorry you're so angry, but I didn't have a choice!" Harry yelled back.
"Yes you did! You always have a choice! Do you know what it was like, being the daughter of famous Harry Potter? People would ask what you were like, and I would have to say I didn't know, because we had never met!"
"I didn't even know you were born!" If Harry had hoped this comment would reassure her, he was wrong.
"Oh, well that just tops it all of, doesn't it?!" she screamed. Her face was now very red. "You didn't even bother to check up on Mum. Or pop in occasionally to see how things were going. She never got over you, you know! Never!"
"That wasn't my fault! You don't even know how demanding my work is!" Harry retaliated. "I didn't have a choice!"
"I told you before! YOU ALWAYS HAVE A CHOICE!!!" Molly froze after saying those words, her face red, and her chest moving up and down trying to suck enough air in. Suddenly, tears sprang from her eyes. She ran up the stair to the top deck before Harry could say anything.
My first day with my only daughter and I'm already screaming at her,
Harry thought miserably. He got into bed and pulled the covers up to his chin, trying to comfort himself.He eventually fell asleep and entered troubled dreams.
**************
The forest seemed different. Darker, perhaps. Or maybe it was the knowledge of what lied within.
Harry and Molly walked side by side, not speaking to each other. It was high noon, and the sun shone directly overhead, creating some warmth in the mists of the cold trees.
"This was it," Harry said at last. They had reached the clearing where Harry had found the dark mark a day before. It was still there, burned into the wood. He looked up at Molly and gingerly took her hand. She tensed, but held on.
"Here we go," she whispered as Harry pressed the Mark. Both closed their eyes and waited for whatever was going to happen to happen.
But nothing did. After a few second, Molly opened her eye. She saw writing where the Dark Mark had once been. A sharp, intense heat rose from the spot, and the letters glowed red-orange. Molly tapped her father. "Look!" she whispered and pointed.
Harry read:
To hasty, foe, you are indeed.
How did you get here with such speed?
Wait your turn, you must, and will
Else, your precious school, I shall kill
Return at night, as I told
And was shall see a story unfold
A story of blood, hate, and fright
Depart now, come back at midnight
"Does he always talk like that?" Molly asked. Harry jumped. He had almost forgotten she was there.
"Only when he's trying to impress people." He got up slowly, stared at the spot a bit more (the Dark Mark had returned and the heat had left), and said, "I think we should go find a inn and rest a bit."
He set off at a fast pace, leaving Molly running behind him trying to catch up.
***************
Molly sat on the bed reading Adventures with the Mad Muggle. A knock on the door interrupted her, and a second latter, Harry walked in.
"I remember those," he said, pointing to her book selection. "My friend Ron used to have the entire series in his bedroom."
"I know. These are his," Molly said.
"What?" Harry said, puzzled. "How did you get his book set?"
Molly sighed. "Well, he is my uncle, you know." Harry looked away, embarrassed.
"Can I ask you something?" Molly said after one of the many awkward silences the two seemed to produce. He nodded. "Did you really not know about me?"
Harry sat down in a chair and spoke, "I did not until yesterday."
"Who told you?"
"Well, Voldemort, actually. And don't flinch. Fear of a name increases fear of the thing itself." He looked up, remembering. "A wise man once told me that."
"But what would You-Kn-, um, Voldemort," she shuttered, but only slightly, "want with me?"
"I honestly don't know. To be frank, he probably just wanted to wear me down. First telling me I have an unknown daughter, then sending me on a chase to bring her here. He figured I would be in a much worse condition to fight him"
"You know, I was only unknown to you. Everyone else knew about me. How long has it been since you took a break from this Voldemort-hunting business?" She said the name with out a shiver, this time.
"About fifteen, maybe sixteen years. I loose track of time sometimes," he said with a sigh.
Molly looked amazed. She cleared her throat, and looking uncomfortable, said, "Look, I'm sorry about the things I said on the Knight Bus. I've kind of wanted to say those things for a while, and they all came exploding out at once. I guess what I'm trying to say is: I'm sorry."
"Molly, I'm sorry too. After I lost Ginny and Sirius, well, my life sort of fell apart. And then the shock of finding out about you came on top of the bitter life I had created for myself." Harry took a deep breath, and continued, "It's been quite a while since I was a father, and I know you're not going to open up to me right away." He gave a small smile to her. "But I'm willing to try again."
Molly sniffed. "Alright, now. This is getting a little mushy. I'll try to be a daughter. Just remember, I'm new at it too. So, um, I guess we'll figure out the rest after we fight Voldemort."
Harry started. He actually had not though about Voldemort for more than fifteen minutes. That was the first time that had happened in fifteen years. It was rather refreshing.
"Get some rest. We'll need all the strength we can get," he said as he left the room.
**************
Dark fell around seven o'clock, increasing the fear and dread that was settled in both Harry's and Molly's stomachs.
At around 11:30, Harry knocked on Molly's door, where he found her nervously pacing the room.
"I think we better go," he said in a throaty whisper.
Molly only nodded. Fears of what lay ahead could not be put into words, but somehow they both understood.
They left the warmth of the inn, ever careful not to wake the innkeeper, who had retired early that night. They crept the frosty ground until they came to the edge of the forest. Both paused a second outside the foreboding trees.
"Well, this is it, then isn't it?" Molly said.
It took almost no time to find the spot of the Dark Mark. Harry glanced at his watch. 11:57. Close enough.
He looked up at Molly. She nodded. They griped at each other's hands, and Harry pressed the Mark.
The Dark Wind came again, sucking the breath out of the couple. It iced their bodies and chilled their mind. Only one word remained in their consciousness. Cold. And not the normal cold. And normal cold numbs the fingertips, toes, and ears, then spreads slowly inward. This Cold happened in a second, icing them all the way from the fingertips to the heart. The wind roared, wailed and shrieked as it carried them. Glimpses of black, white, gray, and green flash by, then disappeared just as rapidly.
And just as their frozen bodies were about to give up the fight, the wind stopped. They found themselves on the floor of the small chamber Harry had been brought to the night Voldemort instructed him to pick up Molly.
Only this time, the Dark Lord was not alone. He nodded to the two Death Eaters on his right. "Get the girl," his unnatural voice ordered.
The Death Eaters grabbed Molly, one on each arm, and lead her to the corner, where a chair sat, waiting. Then they each put a had on one of her shoulders, and stood behind in the shadows. Molly look relatively calm; only her extremely pale face and shaking hand gave away how terrified she truly was.
"And so, you have brought the girl here. Very good, Potter," Voldemort said. He raised his hand, and at first Harry thought the Dark Lord was going to slap him. But the Voldemort snapped, and a large, black cauldron fell from the ceiling without spilling a drop of the red, frothy liquid inside.
"This," Voldemort indicated the potion inside the cauldron, "is a very powerful Dark potion. Unfortunately, it has some rather, well, unusual requirements. It must contain the blood of the victim, but the blood must not be from the victim himself. Now you can be sure I puzzled over this constraint for quite some time. Then I realized that the potion was asking for a relations blood."
Voldemort waved his hand in a manor that must have meant something to the Death Eaters, for they immediately hoisted Molly up and brought her over. They forced her to hold her arm over the cauldron as Voldemort took a knife from the pockets of his robe.
Remembering what Wormtail had done years ago, Harry shut his eyes and prepared for the worst. But, thank God, all Voldemort did was cut her arm open. The cut was shallow, but, nevertheless, blood poured from Molly into the cauldron. She screamed and tried to pull away, but the Death Eaters held her there.
Finally, Voldemort waved his hand once more, and they threw her back into the corner. With an evil smile, he walked over the cauldron, and stood behind it. He smiled. No, a creature such as Voldemort can never truly smile. Voldemort grinned. An evil grin.
"And now, Potter, here comes round two of our game." He waved his wand over the cauldron, and muttered, "sangrienta corazon."
Instantly, the blood red potion turned a bright, emerald green. It bubbled, swirled, and splashed. Then, it was completely still. Harry had too much experience to hope this might be the end. And he was right. Out of the liquid, not a dark blue, rose a figure.
It was the size of a doll, and looked like one. Wait a second, it was a doll! It was… an exact facsimile of Harry! A Voodoo doll, maybe?
As if Voldemort could read Harry's mind, he answered the silent question. "Yes, a Voodoo doll." Those were the last words Harry heard before the pain began.
He screamed an inhuman scream, this pain was worse that the Cruciatus Curse. When he had been put under that curse, it hurt so badly, he wanted to die. Now he didn't even care about dieing. He only wanted end the pain. Slow the world to a halt. This was pure and simple torture. Every touch to the cursed doll was like being stabbed a thousand times over.
While Harry was screaming, the blood started to pour down his body. It was so heavy, no one knew where it came from. But if they had been able to wipe away the red fluid for a moment, they would have seen it came from his scar.
And it kept coming. If anything had been normal about this bleeding, Harry would have been a white, dried up corpse; having long since bleed all the blood he had to give. But this was all far from normal, and he bleed on.
The blood spilled onto the stone floor, and flowed in little rivers across the room. Voldemort and his Death Eaters took no notice (they were use to blood), but Molly, who sat curled up in her little corner, did. She glanced from the blood next to her to the cauldron. And then she looked at the Dark Lord and his followers, who had moved in front of the cauldron to watch the sickening display of torment.
Without another moment hesitation, Molly cupped her hands and scooped up her Father's blood. Trying very hard not to be sick, she ran behind the cauldron and threw the blood in. Again, the potion turned green and bubbled violently. Then absolute stillness overcame it, and a figure rose out of the cauldron.
A figure of Voldemort.
Whatever Molly had been expecting, it was not this. She got a hold of her senses just in time to grab the doll. She stood staring at it for what seemed like an eternity. She felt weak, and her breath came in shallow gasps.
For a moment, time slowed. The screams of her father grew dim. Voldemort's laughs were drowned out into silence. Colors sharpened. The dark black of the Dark Lords robes. The brilliant green of Harry's eyes. The red of the blood on the floor. Everything slowed to a stop, leaving Molly with nothing but her own breath and heartbeat. Then, quite suddenly, time when on, and reality came crashing around her with a screech. She knew what she had to do.
With one swift motion, she snapped the doll's head off.
********
Harry awoke and groaned, rubbing his head. His entire body ached, and his vision was blurred. His hand his something. He felt around for it. Oh, they were his glasses. That would explain the burred vision.
He put them on, and sat up. He was in a dark chamber, lit only by torches on the walls and the soft glow of some sort of potion on the floor. Memories came again, flooding his brain.
He was in pain. Worse than pain, he had had a glimpse of Hell. He remembered seeing Molly. She did something to the potion. She tore apart a doll. There was an explosion. Then he knew no more.
Molly. What had happened to Molly? He looked around the chamber. He could see nothing. He stood up. The world spun around a couple times, then rested still. He lit his wand and examined the small room.
A few feet away, where the Death Eaters stood, there was a strange mark scorched on the stone floor. Harry looked a little closer. It was a Dark Mark. Two of them.
So the Death Eaters died.
Harry thought. But did their master? And, please no, did- did Molly?He stepped around the caldron. There! Molly was lying on her back, staring up at the ceiling.
Please don't let her be dead, Harry prayed silently as he rushed to her side.
But his prayers were in vain. He could tell from the cold, empty expression in her eyes she was gone.
**********
Lilly could only stare. Thinking was impossible. She went over and over the story in her mind, but she still could only stare. At last, there was only one thing to say. "Wow."
Harry Potter, a much older, much more tired Harry Potter, stared back. "I've just told you my life story, and all you can say is 'wow'?"
"No- I mean- that wasn't- I – I" she realized he was joking. She took a deep breath, and continued. "So Molly died?"
Harry's eyes glazed over, but he did not cry. "Yes. She died."
Lilly's own eyes filled with tears. "I'm so sorry. That's awful. That's so sad."
"I think the storm is over." It took a while for this comment to sink in. Storm? Oh, right. She had come in his house to escape from the storm. He stood up, and she did too.
He walked a numb Lilly to the old door. Indeed, outside the rain had slowed to a drizzle, and the sun was starting to peak through the clouds. She was about to go, when she turned around. "Thank you, for everything. Shelter, and the story." She gave him a small smile.
Harry sighed and leaned on the wall. "Before, you asked me two questions. What was my name, and who was I. The name question was easy, but I had a little more trouble answering who I was. That is why I told you the story.
I did not tell it for my sake. I guess, since it was the twentieth anniversary of Molly's death, I told it for her. I don't care, obviously, if anyone gives a damn about me. And I don't care whether I 'live on' in someone's memory or not. But Molly deserves that. She deserves to be remembered."
He stopped speaking. That was obviously her cue to go. She was halfway out the door, when she did something strange and unexpected. Lilly Ann Johnson turned around and hugged Harry Potter. Then she turned back around, and walked out into the sunshine.
She never went back to that old house, to that old man. But she told her children, and her grandchildren, and her great-grandchildren about a girl named Molly, who helped to defeat the greatest Dark wizard of all time. She helped Molly Potter live again.
******
Harry Potter looked at the retreating figure of Lilly. Once she had caught the Knight Bus, he closed the door and went back inside.
Harry went back and stood by the fire, which was now only glowing, orange coals. He poked the fire, for lack of anything better to do, and sat down in an armchair. And he sighed.
He had not told Lilly all of the story. That part- the last, important part- he simply could not tell. Too painful, too personal, too, oh, he didn't know what the hell it was. He closed his eyes, and remembered.
**********
Harry awoke and groaned, rubbing his head. His entire body ached, and his vision was blurred. His hand his something. He felt around for it. Oh, they were his glasses. That would explain the burred vision.
He put them on, and sat up. He was in a dark chamber, lit only by torches on the walls and the soft glow of some sort of potion on the floor. Memories came again, flooding his brain.
He was in pain. Worse than pain, he had had a glimpse of Hell. He remembered seeing Molly. She did something to the potion. She tore apart a doll. There was an explosion. Then he knew no more.
Molly. What had happened to Molly? He looked around the chamber. He could see nothing. He stood up. The world spun around a couple times, then rested still. He lit his wand and examined the small room.
He stepped around the caldron. There! Molly was lying on her back, staring up at the ceiling.
Please don't let her be dead, Harry prayed silently as he rushed to her side.
He kneeled next to her body and shook her arm. "Molly? Molly, wake up!" he whispered frantically.
Her eyes fluttered, and opened. She gasped for breath and, painfully, said, "He's gone. Don't worry. Voldemort is dead. No more death." She smiled. "Except me."
"No, you're not going to die!" Harry half said, half begged as he helped her sit up. "We'll get you to a nurse. Just hang on."
"No. To late. I'll be gone…" every word seemed to take enormous effort. "Why- why did the Voldemort doll come?"
"Voldemort was stupid," Harry explained as he held Molly's hand. "He forgot that my own blood was in him too. He took the blood my fourth year."
"Oh." She smiled. "Well, it doesn't matter, anyway. He's gone now." Gradually, she was going limp.
"Molly, listen to me. Just hang on a little longer. Please," Harry murmured.
Out of nowhere, a wind swept through the chamber. In the back of his mind, Harry dimly wondered where the wind came from, as they were in an enclosed room.
The wind was not the Cold of before, nor was it a tropical, warming breeze. It wasn't violent or stormy. It was simple, cool, and calming. It doused the torches once by one, swept around the room one more time, and was gone.
The room lay still.
And so did Molly.
A/N I finished the story! It's done! Finally! I've been working on this thing for over a month! So reward my efforts! Review, Please!
Oh, and thank you for reading! If you've got this far, maybe you actually read the entire thing! Thank you!
↑ (That is one heavily exclamation-pointed authors note, huh?)
PS In case you were confused. The beginning fount is present-day, with old Harry and Lilly. The other font is Harry's story (and at the end, his memories). I'm just really bad at writing in first person, so I did it in third. Hope it wasn't too confusing.
--Tigerlily :-)