A.N. "blah" is speech, blah is thoughts, ~blah~ is parseltongue
Knockturn Alley, a street closely tied to dark magic and is always associated with filth and gloom. Dark magic shops litter the alley, with scantily clad wizards participating in underground deals along the street.
However, it is this dirty and dark alley that Harry frequented in the ten years after the war—of course, dressed as he is now, under a cloak, like a genuine dark wizard.
Shopping records in Knockturn Alley are always kept secret, which helped Harry by keeping the fact that he needed sleeping potion constantly—or rather that he was addicted to them—from the public. Praise to Merlin, that wouldn't be wise, now would it?
Therefore, it can be said that Harry is quite familiar with Knockturn Alley. He intends to buy some books regarding the soul in the book shop, as he had discovered some here in his previous life while studying the horcruxes. But since Voldemort had already been defeated then, Harry didn't spend much of his time on horcruxes. He merely purchased all the books in the shop regarding horcruxes and destroyed them without reading its contents. Now, it seems, that he should better study up on them.
True, fiendfyre works against horcruxes, but he feared for another problem—that Voldemort could sense the presence of his other horcruxes. In his precious life, Voldemort hadn't realized his horcruxes were destroyed until the very end, but whats to say that it would be the same in this life? If he finds that his horcruxes were destroyed, would he make more? THEN things would really get out of hand. Harry needs to go over his plan carefully.
Meeting Draco Malfoy at Madam Malkin's reminded of something else. In his sixth year, Draco used the vanishing cabinet from Borgin & Burkes to let Death Eaters into Hogwarts. That's a flaw in the plan that must be fixed.
Killing the bird while it is still in its nest, is an important lesson he learned from the war.
Arriving Borgin & Burkes, the largest dark magic shop in Knockturn Alley, Harry took out the Polyjuice potion he purchased, placing in a hair from a random brunette man he picked from Diagon Alley and drank the potion. Not long after, a tall brunette teen pushed open the door, entering Borgin & Burkes.
A crookbacked man appears behind the counter, dragging a hand through his greasy hair.
"Welcome, sir, what can I do for you?" Borgin asked.
Harry pointed to the black cabinet to the left, and asked, "This, how much?"
"Sir, the vanishing cabinet is a couple, but the other cannot be found. Moreover, this one is already broken. Why don't you check out the new items in the shop today? They are at very fair prices."
"No, I will just take this, you fix it, and tell me how when I come to collect it next week. I will deal with the other cabinet. DO. NOT. PLAY. GAMES. WITH. ME." As Harry spoke, he let loose some of his magic, whilst placing a bag of galleons on the counter.
Borgin immediately bowed, and said, "Of course, sir, come collect next Thursday."
Harry nodded his head, turned, and left the shop.
17 Knockturn Alley is the largest dark magic bookshop, with the largest variety of dark magic books in all of Britain. Of course, the prices are also quite high. Harry walked in, and greeted the old man dozing off behind the counter with familiarity, "I've come for books, Felix."
The old man, with his eyes closed, said unconcernedly, "Just go pick what you want from the shelves."
Felix is the owner of the shop. Of course, most customers don't know his name, only a select few frequent customers know, and they have some special privileges. For example, no limit on the number of books they wish to purchase when normal customers are limited to three.
Harry filed through the shelves, picking out the thirteen books he had bought once on the horcruxes, walked back to the counter dropping a bag of galleons, and thanked the old man, "Good day, Felix." And left quickly.
The one-hour limit on the Polyjuice potion is almost up. He needs to get back to Diagon Alley, or else if Hagrid can't find him at Flourish and Botts, that would be a whole lot of trouble.
When passing by a forbidden ingredients shop, a figure purchasing items at the counter caught Harry's eye.
The man was covered head to toe in black robes, buttoned up to be very top. Hair that was dark as the night were slightly greasy, framing his pale face like curtains. Two creases seem to engrave themselves in between his brows. His black eyes cold and vacant, large hooknose, thin lips pursed, with a gloomy expression that is never changing. He's not handsome, at least by traditional standards.
He seems to never learn how to please others. But then, of course, he wouldn't care.
Severus Snape!
Harry's breath caught in his throat as he is frozen in place, with memories of that night which he had sealed away flowing back.
Thant night, in the Shrieking Shack, this man tried to block the bleeding from the wound on his neck with his hand. He doesn't want to die, not like this. He was not done completing the mission that was protecting Harry Potter. Not for living, but for protecting Harry Potter. Then, when he realized it was no use, he used the last of his remaining magic to give him those memories.
Those memories…
When he was only a boy, weak and pale, hiding in the bush while gazing upon the red-headed girl, passionately.
At school, he tried to stand by the girl of his heart, trying desperately to grasp the only light in his life. But, the light, left him.
After graduating, that girl died, because of him. In despair he wanted to self-exile, but, in the end, accepted the mission Dumbledore bestowed upon him—to protect the son of his most loved and most hated. To protect those same green eyes his love had. To walk a road fill with thorns of danger.
After, the man wailed to Dumbledore out of control, "And my soul, Dumbledore? Mine?"
When he learned that the boy whom he protected for so many years must die, he was terrified. He said, "You have kept him alive, just so that he can die at the right moment?"
Harry understands that the reason this man risks his life to protect him is not because of him; he has never liked Harry. He is only doing this for the blossoming lily that is so important to his life. His never changing doe patronus is the best evidence.
For someone who has already passed away, this man is willing to go to these depths.
Life, as the price.
You died. Quietly. Released from the persisting bonds.
But, goddamn it, I'm still alive.
Harry often thinks, if that day he never went to the Shrieking Shack, then he would never know any of this, then he could continue to treat this man as an enemy, to continue hating him.
Then, he wouldn't have to live with regret and despair for all those long days and nights after.
The list of names of the deaths because of him is already so long, why did you have to add yours?
I have to accept you, barging into my dreams again and again, making me watch you die over and over, using the blood red truth to remind me of my sinful soul.
Day after day, night after night, unable to escape.
But, if he didn't go, he would never know the soft side of this man.
For that light in his childhood, plunging fearlessly into darkness, never letting go even when he was drowning and suffocating, Severus Snape, you are a hard book to read. I spent seven years reading it, complaining of its toughness for the first six, but only in the final chapter did I find the heart-wrenching conclusion. When I finally realized the brilliance of the book, it ended.
This man, once again, proved something that Harry should have realized long ago—some things are worth dying for.
Mum and Dad, Sirius, Dumbledore, now him.
They all came true.
So, when Harry walked out of the Headmaster's office, walked past those he loved, even when he shivered from the cold, he didn't look back.
So, he was able to say, calmly, "I'm about to die."
Spasms coming from his body made Harry realize the time limit of the Polyjuice potions is almost up. Harry forces his eyes away, turned, and walked, slowly, but steadily away, to the sunlit Diagon Alley ten meters away.
I'll see you at Hogwarts, Professor Snape. This time, I won't repeat my mistakes.
Harry took off the cloak and shoved it into his bag while running towards Ollivander's. Hagrid was already standing there.
"Sorry, Hagrid, I got lost," Harry smiled apologetically, "Also, there are so many books in Flourish and Botts," he said while patting his heavy bag.
Hagrid smiled, "Not a problem, Harry, I just got here. It's a good thing you like books. Here, Harry, it's my birthday present to you, an owl. It can help you deliver letters and packages."
Harry took the beautiful owl, so happy to see you again, Hedwig. He thought while thanking Hagrid happily.
"No problem, now let's get your wand. You'll find the best at Ollivander's."
Then, as expected, after two hours of waving different wands, he finally found the one.
11 inches long, made of holly, possessing a phoenix feather core.
Ollivander offered to put the wand in a box, but Harry refused. It feels safer to have his wand in hand.
"Curious…curious…" Ollivander kept on repeating.
Harry did not further converse with the silver-eyed wizard. He smiled politely, paid, and left with Hagrid.
Of course, it is curious, brother wands, one with Voldemort, one with him, how not to be curious. It is because of this brotherly connection that lent him escape for his life on several occasions.
After retrieving his robes from Madam Malkin's, Harry asked Hagrid to bring him back to Number 4 Privet Drive.
He didn't mind the fury in his Aunt and Uncle's eyes, walked upstairs and collapsed on his bed.
He is really tired. Encountering Sever Snape almost shattered the pretense that he has upheld for so many years.
So tired.
Sirius falling past the Veil, his handsome face plastered with shock and fear.
Dumbledore falling down the tower, silver hair and beard glistening under the moon.
Fred laying on the runes after the explosion, eyes empty, a slight smile remaining on his face.
Snape, white as a ghost, blood pouring out of his neck, laying stiff on the worn-out floor.
Harry startles away, clothes drenched in sweat. He struggles to sit up, head hung, weary showing in his eyes behind his bangs.
It's been so long since he's had this dream.