Disclaimer: (forgotten in chapter one) I hold no rights to the Harry Potter universe. JKR, her publishers, producers, and assigned heirs hold such rights. No copyright infringement is intended with this story, and I will make no money from it.
Thank you for your gracious reviews!
Makaem: 1. Now you know. : ) 2. No, they're dead, he killed them and had them hauled out of the room in chapter one. 3. Nope 4. Yes, in this chapter, actually.
Kynnetic: Not really, Harry is simply becoming older and trying to assert his independence the only way he knows how. Right now, he's stuck, and his only freedom is his thoughts.
History: Hate is as blind as love is, I'm afraid. Snape cannot - or perhaps refuses - to see beyond what he chooses to see. They probably did talk to him about it, but it was done 'offscreen'. It may come up later in the series as things settle back into a routine. Of course, with the headmaster keeping things close to his chest, like he usually does, any actions he takes to discover what's going on may not come out into the open - or may end up a major point of contention later on. . . . Only time will tell. : )~
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Chapter Four
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Lucius stumbled into Malfoy Manor, exhausted from the meeting and shaking from the cruciatus. He didn't think there was a single inner circle deatheater that had made it out of that meeting without suffering some form of punishment this time. He had never seen the dark lord so absolutely out-of-control furious before, which - considering the states of rage he'd seen the wizard in - had certainly been a terrifying sight to behold. When the wizard's ire had fallen on him, he hadn't been altogether certain he would live though it, and while he was grateful he had, he almost wished he hadn't. Everything hurt!
He made it to his private study without running across his family, for which he was also grateful, and headed straight for the potions cabinet. Severus kept him well supplied with everything he could possibly need following a standard meeting. He just hoped it was enough to cover this. He did not wish to meet with his son in his current state - or anything resembling it. Unfortunately, the conversation was long overdue and could no longer be put off. Traditionally, this topic was raised shortly after a Malfoy child's 15th birthday, and that had come and gone already. He simply hadn't been up to having it last summer, nor did he particularly want to have it now. While he still believed in what the dark lord said he was working toward, he didn't want his son anywhere near the madman.
Several revolting potions later, he headed straight for his private shower. His son could wait until he felt clean again.
x-x-x
Harry trembled as he stared at the package sitting so innocently on the table in front of him - his own personal ghost. According to the goblin who'd brought it, Ganderloft, his mother had left it with them just before she and his father had gone under fidelius, with instructions for it to be delivered to him the first day of the summer before his 16th birthday. They hadn't been able to, due to the wards surrounding his residence. Harry had frowned at that. He'd never had any trouble receiving mail or visitors before.
Not to mention the deatheaters got through just fine!
Then it dawned on him. He'd only been home a matter of hours, then gone on to Grimauld place. The goblins wouldn't have been able to find Grimauld. Of course, after that, he'd been here, at Hogwarts, but that had already been very late at night. He imagined that goblins, unlike owls, didn't 'deliver' at all hours of the day.
"Would you prefer I stay or leave, Harry?" the headmaster asked, breaking into his silent figuring.
He looked up, a little startled. He and the headmaster were the only two in the room. Apparently, he'd missed the goblin's departure.
He frowned, then realized just what the headmaster had asked. "You can stay, Headmaster," he replied absently, returning his attention to the package. No matter what was in it, it was something that his mother had held in her hands. In fact, she had been the very last person to touch whatever was hidden inside.
"Perhaps, Harry," the headmaster suggested softly, "it might be easier to figure out what's in it, if you open it."
Harry snorted a laugh. Of course it would, he thought. Unfortunately, that would end the mystery. It would end the hope that this was something good. He had an uneasy feeling that whatever was inside would not be good at all; would, in fact, turn his life upside down . . . again. He didn't know why he thought that, beyond the fact that nothing seemed to be going right in his life at the moment. He just couldn't shake the feeling that he really didn't want to open this package from the past.
He sighed, flicking a glance at the headmaster. As ever, the man was sitting calmly, no hint of impatience showing. What bothered Harry, however, was the fact that there was also no hint of a twinkle in the older wizard's eyes. If he disagreed with Harry's gut feeling about the package, his eyes would have been dancing a merry jig. Shaking off the thought, he once again returned his attention to the package; only this time, he reached out and carefully began opening it.
x-x-x
Lucius barely resisted sighing as he settled himself into his chair and waited for Mistly to fetch Draco. Now that the time had come, however, he was at something of a loss as to how to explain what his son was going to go through. The boy would begin to feel the . . . pull soon. In fact, it could be in as little as a few months, to as much as a year from now. There was no way to know for sure. One thing was certain, however. He was not going to follow the example his own father had set.
"There you are, Lucius," his father said sternly. "It certainly took you long enough to answer my summons."
Lucius nodded, acknowledging his father's words. "Yes, Sir. It won't happen again," was all he said in reply. That was usually best with the old man. He never listened to reasons, no matter how legitimate, instead calling them pathetic excuses. When he called, you were to come, instantly. Not even dismemberment would be excuse enough not to appear promptly! It wouldn't have mattered to the old man that he'd been in the shower when the house elf had popped into his room. Of course, if he hadn't taken the time to make sure he was perfectly attired he would have been chastised for that instead.
"Sit, boy," his father said, pulling him instantly from his resentful thoughts.
Instantly doing as he was told, Lucius centered his attention on his father, intensely curious as to what the man wanted.
"The Malfoy family was long ago granted the ability to instinctively seek out the most powerful wizard around us. Furthermore, we will always be able to sense what that wizard will want from us, as well as being blessed with the ability to actually give them that very thing.
Lucius' eyes widened. That was quite the gift! No wonder their family had always prospered! To always know what a powerful wizard wanted from him; it was a dream come true. His mind was instantly whirling with plans. He frowned then.
Instinctively seek out?
"Pay attention, Lucius Abraxus Malfoy!"
Lucius started in surprise. "Sorry, Father," he replied quietly. "When you say 'instinctively'; do we have to follow the instinct?"
Scowling, his father leaned forward. "Why wouldn't you want to?" he demanded intently.
Lucius barely resisted the urge to shrug. There were any number of reason not to go to any specific wizard, regardless of how powerful they may be. The most powerful wizard Lucius had met was the headmaster, and he certainly had no intentions of having anything to do with the barmy old man the instant he graduated. The man liked mudbloods! "What if," he began, carefully phrasing his words, "the most powerful wizard we know believes . . . odd things?"
His father laughed. "You have no need to worry there, Lucius. I'm going to introduce you to a wizard this weekend. He is the most powerful wizard to ever live."
Of course, what his father had neglected to mention was the overpowering need to follow said 'powerful wizard', how it was a nearly irresistible urge that drove you to do whatever you needed to do to please and gain approval from them - the downside to what would have otherwise been a blessing. The old man had also neglected to mention the origins of the curse. Lucius had, had to research out the cause himself. Of course, he'd long since destroyed all written evidence of it, not wanting it to fall into the wrong hands. He sighed just as the door opened and Draco strode into the room.
"You sent for me, Father?"
"Yes, Draco," he replied evenly. "Have a seat. We are overdue for a rather . . . complicated discussion.
x-x-x
Albus watched Harry with a faint frown, concern spiking through him when Harry's eyes filled. The young man seemed to wilt right in front of him, as if something vital, necessary to survival, was being leeched out as he sat there and watched. He started to reach out, to comfort, but a soft, high pitched keening started from the boy and it froze him in place for a split second. "Harry?" he whispered fearfully. What is in that letter?
Harry's head shot up, the plaintive sound cutting off abruptly. The look of utter desolation in the green eyes nearly undid Albus completely.
"No!" Harry whispered faintly, then, all but throwing the old piece of parchment at him, sped from the room, leaving it and the package on the table.
His frown deepening, Albus almost called out. He almost ran after the boy. He chose, instead, to find out just what he was dealing with before deciding what to do. A quick glance inside the open package showed it was filled with an old pensieve and three small memory bottles. What?
Reaching for the letter which had floated to the floor, Albus took a deep breath and began reading, determined to find out exactly what had driven Harry to such despair.
"Dear mother of Merlin!" Albus breathed, and all but raced from the library. He had to find Harry before the poor boy did something foolish.
Just outside the library, Albus virtually ran into Severus. "Sorry," he muttered absently, most of his attention focused on where he might find the boy.
"Albus, that boy is out of control," Severus snapped.
"Which w-"
"He barrelled into me, knocking me to the floor, then refused to stop when I tried to-"
"Severus!"
Severus blinked in surprise at the shout. "What?"
"Which way did Harry go?"
The man's nearly perpetual frown deepened further. "He was rushing toward the upper floors, presumably to Gryffindor tower."
"Thank you," Albus replied.
"What's going on?" Severus demanded harshly.
In reply, Albus shoved the letter into his hand and hurried after Harry, glad the letter would explain, since he had neither the time nor the inclination to explain it.
Thankfully, the stairs cooperated with him; they didn't always. Hogwarts really was a rather fickle entity. She could usually be counted on during times of crisis, but not being human - nor fully sentient - often defined crisis somewhat differently than the lowly mortals who moved within her walls. As thankful as Albus was for it, he was also somewhat worried what her cooperation might portend. It certainly did not bode well for the situation to Albus' mind.
x-x-x
When the shock wore off, Severus was surprised to find himself on the floor. He remembered neither sitting, nor - alternately - collapsing there. Absently thankful that no one else was present to see him make such a spectacle of himself, he stood and strode after the headmaster, the shocking letter from the past clutched tightly in one hand. Anyone would be upset at discovering the unbelievable contents of the letter, the truth of Lily's full sacrifice. It had shocked him and he had already figured out what had happened. And with Potter's new power levels and already unstable emotions, there was no telling what kind of damage the brat could do. Albus would need all the help he could get.
Snarling out the default summer password, Severus stepped inside the Gryffindor common room - a place he'd sworn years ago that he would never, ever, set foot in.
Yet another thing to lay at Potter's arrogant feet, he thought bitterly.
It took only minutes to discover that he was completely alone, neither Potter nor Albus was there. I loath chasing after children! he snarled silently, quickly making his way out of lion territory.
"Point me, Harry Potter," he ground out through clenched teeth the moment he stepped out into the hall. His wand pointed upward and to the south.
His eyes widened as a horrifying thought occured to him. The astronomy tower! Hoping he was wrong and the boy wouldn't be so unbelievably, arrogantly, ungrateful, but fearing he was, Severus took off at a dead run. He allowed only a small portion of his mind to notice - and be surprised by - the fact that the bloody unpredictable stairs were perfectly lined up for him to take the shortest route to the tower.
He put on another, adrenaline boosted, burst of speed at what the castle's cooperation might mean, and it took him a surprisingly short amount of time to reach the tower. Out of breath, he slowed as he neared the circular room.
He tensed further when he heard Albus speaking, the headmaster's overly calm, soothing tones doing absolutely nothing to ease his fears. Potter's response, however, chilled him.
The boy laughed, the sound beyond hysterical.
"You think I'm going to try and kill myself?" he asked incredulously, his voice a shrill octave above its normal annoying level.
Well, yes, Severus thought, snorting derisively; though quietly. Why else would you have hightailed it to the astronomy tower? He couldn't see them, but didn't dare get closer and risk being seen. He didn't want to interrupt what appeared to be a stand off. As much as he disliked Potter, he had absolutely no wish to be responsible for possibly pushing this confrontation the wrong way. He did not want to do the dark lord's work for him!
"That did have me a little concerned," Albus admitted softly, "when I figured out where you'd run to."
Potter's chilling laugh sounded again, making Severus shudder and wonder just how loose the brat's grasp on sanity really was, his mind automatically supplying him with a mental picture of Harry Potter acting very much like Belatrix Lastrange. It was not a pleasant picture.
"You are really incredible, Headmaster," Potter sneered. "And I thought you knew me at least a little."
What?
"I would like to think I do, Harry," Albus replied quietly. "It's just that everyone has a breaking point, and you have been through so very much in the last few days."
"My mother gave up her immortal soul, in addition to her life, to protect me!" Potter shouted.
So, Severus thought, surprised, he does understand what that letter meant.
"I really would be as arrogant as Professor Snape accuses me of being if I threw that away like so much garbage, like whatever I felt was more important than that."
Severus gasped, beyond surprised that Potter had even that much insight. The very notion conflicted with everything he'd ever seen in the brat.
"You are more important, Harry."
Not in this sodding lifetime, or the next! Severus thought viciously. Lily was worth ten Potters.
"No, I'm not," Potter insisted angrily. "I'm not even worth her life."
At least you realize that!
"Everyone would be better off if she'd let him kill me, if she'd run."
Severus' mind went blank for a moment. The boy was suicidal after all, just . . . unwilling to follow through on it?
"Harry," Albus began, only be interrupted.
"Don't worry, Headmaster," Potter spat, his voice far more scathing than Severus had ever heard it - especially directed at the headmaster. "I'll be your weapon. I'll kill Voldemort, or die trying. I won't kill myself."
"You are much more than just some weapon, Harry."
Potter snorted derisively.
"Perhaps, Harry," Albus tried again, "we should return to the library. Viewing the memories your mother left you, might help."
Memories! Severus yelped mentally, barely keeping himself from doing so out loud. Lily left the boy memories? Unadulterated jealousy raged through him for several seconds until he managed to wrestle the inappropriate feeling into near submission. He couldn't still it completely, however, and its remnants burned like hot coals in his chest. He frowned. Why are they only now being brought out?
"Yeah, alright," Potter replied, sighing heavily, and echoing the boy's sigh, Severus breathed out in relief. No matter the boy's words, he had still been worried the brat would try to off himself.
The moment he heard movement, Severus shook himself free of his thoughts and hurriedly schooled his features, stepping forward and presenting himself as if he'd just arrived; as if he hadn't heard what had to have been most - if not all - of their very private conversation.
"So there you are," he sneered. He had to hide his shock when he laid eyes on the boy. Tears actively fell down his face and his swollen eyes and red, blotchy face, gave testiment to the fact that he'd been crying for quite some time.
"Indeed we are, Severus," Albus replied as cheerfully as if they hadn't just been speaking of death, destruction, and other such mayhem.
The boy merely glared at him, rudely pushing past him and out into the hall.
Severus shook his head, sneering. The boy's expression was even less effective than normal, coming as it did from the tear streaked face.
x-x-x
"You mean I'll be able to sense other people's power levels?" Draco asked, smirking. He really wasn't seeing the downside to this and wondered why in Morgana's name, his father considered it a curse.
"No," his father replied sharply, "you will only be able to sense who around you is the most powerful."
Oh. Well, that wasn't nearly as useful as the other, but still, he didn't see why it was a bad thing. He admitted as much to his father. After all, it would certainly be helpful in knowing who to support in order to assure their own gain. It certainly made him less wary of being marked by the dark lord. If that wizard was who his father had chosen to support, then it stood to reason that said wizard was the most powerful his father knew. And considering his father had met both the dark lord and Dumbledore - who was often touted as being the most powerful wizard of their time - that had to mean that the dark lord was even more powerful, right?
Of course, it could just mean that his father refused to support Dumbledore . . . all things considered.
But then the other curse fell as what his father was saying now began to penetrate his thoughts.
"You mean we're compelled to follow the strongest?" he asked, appalled. Malfoy's were supposed to leaders, not followers - at least that's what the man sitting across from him had always taught him.
"Compelled is a very strong word, Draco, but, essentially, yes."
"So that's why you call it a curse, then."
"I call it a cruse because it is one," his father replied firmly. "If it were merely being able to seek out the most powerful wizard and know what we could do that would best appease that person, then it would be a blessing. As it is," he shrugged, but looked distinctly uncomfortable, "the curse . . . changes you."
Draco blinked in shock, pure horror flooding him. "Changes you?" he yelped "How?"
"Not all that much, but it does make sure you're willing to do whatever it is they want you to do."
He didn't like the sound of that.
"Surely, there's a way to break it," Draco protested. There had to be. He refused to let his life be ruled by some bloody curse.
"There is," his father admitted.
Draco leaned forward eager to hear how to end the blasted curse.
"But I can not tell you how."
"Why?" Draco demanded. He was determined to break the curse. He would serve no one forcibly.
"Because if you are to have any chance at breaking this curse, you can not be told how."
"But that doesn't make any sense!"
"It is a vengeance curse, Draco. You cannot break those purposely, ever. The cursed must fulfil the conditions of the sundering without realizing they're doing so."
"Oh," Draco drawled, disappointed, "it's one of those. Only by performing the proper counter without ulterior motive can you break the curse."
"Exactly, and since it's impossible to have no ulterior motive if you know that what you're doing will free us, then it's best you not know."
"Than that means you cannot break us free of this curse."
"Not since you were less than a year old, the year your grandfather died."
"Draco frowned. "How did we end up cursed anyway?"
"Your Great-Grandfather - twelve generations back - Leveis Malfoy decided his family wasn't powerful enough, nor rich enough," his father explained, sneering. "While that may be a worthy thought, he went about correcting that in a very . . . risky manner."
Draco waited not so patiently for his father to continue.
"Did you know that the Weasleys weren't always dirt poor?"
Draco shook his head, surprised by the abrupt topic change. "No," he replied honestly. He'd never given it a single thought.
"In fact, they used to be quite wealthy."
Draco's eyes widened. The Weasel's family used to be rich? Now that concept was enough to gobsmack just about anyone.
"Leveis was just a little older than you when he began courting a young woman by the name of Alphaesia Weasley."
Shuddering, Draco shook his head. A Malfoy dating a Weasley? It rather turned his stomach.
"As much as I am loathe to admit it," his father continued, seemingly unaware of Draco's discomfort, "the Weasleys were higher placed in society than the Malfoys of the time - though, not by much - and Leveis believed that marrying into their family would be a step in the right direction. Within four months, he was ready to propose marriage, certain that Alphaesia would say yes."
Still wide eyed, Draco had a horribly sinking sensation in his gut, that his father was going to tell him that he was more closely related to the Weasel than anyone with a true claim to being a pureblood would be forced to do.
"The night before he intended to ask for her hand, Deiter Malovan sought him out
Malovan? A couple hundred years ago, the Malovans were near royalty. They wanted something; it generally got done.
"He asked for . . . an alliance."
Alliance? He wondered at his father's phrasing. Considering the odd emphasis the man put on the word, Draco couldn't help but think his father meant something more than a mere alliance, something more . . . sordid.
"What did he want from the alliance?" Draco asked, wanting to know if he was right.
His father arched an eyebrow and sneered.
Well, that answers that question! "Right, thought as much," he replied. "So did he take him up on it?" He hoped so. It would certainly be better than finding out one of his direct ancestors was a Weasley!
His father nodded.
"So, what did he get in return?" There had to be something, if the bloke was all set to get married to up his status. If he was any kind of Malfoy, he wouldn't have given that up lightly.
His father smirked. "In return, Malovan supported his rise through the political system. It was thanks to him that the Malfoys are what we are today."
Draco couldn't figure out why this story hadn't been told with all the others that dotted their ancestry. To him, it seemed rather important to their history as a family. Wait a minute. They'd been talking about the curse. Did this have something to do with that?
He refocused on his father, only to find the man was smirking at him. "So how does it all tie together?"
"Alphaesia."
Eyes narrowing, Draco glared. "What did she do?"
"Less than a week after their alliance began, Leveis told her he no longer intended to court her. He did, however, offer to see her in secret. According to his journal, she took it badly. Apparently all of her friends had told her that he didn't care about her, was, in fact, using her to get what he wanted. His father shook his head. "Typical scorned woman," he replied offhand. "She'd believed in him, despite what all her friends had told her. She'd denied the rumors she'd heard that he had . . . 'taken up' with a man, Malovan to be precise. The moment he told her it was all true - the idiot - she swore revenge, told him that if he liked power so much, from that day forth all Malfoys that followed would be forced to follow power, at all costs. She would make sure of it.
"He hadn't believed her, of course. Unfortunately, less than three years later, he met a wizard far more powerful than Malovan and began to feel the effects of the curse."
That was some story, Draco had to admit. But something wasn't quite finished about it . . . aside from the ongoing curse. "So what did he do to her?"
"He ruined them financially. Oh, and counter cursed them, of course."
"Of course."
"For as long as the Malfoy curse remains active, they will never regain what they have lost."
Draco laughed. It was classic. As long the Malfoys were virtually enslaved to power, then the Weasleys would remain dirt poor - definitely poetic justice as far as he was concerned.
"Be all that as it may," his father continued suddenly, "the curse awakens in each Malfoy exactly 16 years from the moment he is born."
"Joy," Draco replied drily, "wonderful birthday present."
Lucius frowned at him, then, but something akin to sympathy actually shined in his eyes. It made Draco feel a little better about the whole thing, anyway.
"Five hours after you begin to feel the effects of the curse, I will take you to meet the dark lord."
Swallowing heavily, Draco nodded. As an academic exercise, knowing he would end up following the dark lord was one thing, suddenly being presented with the reality was something else entirely. He wasn't sure he was ready for it. His 16th birthday was this month.
x-x-xx
Harry didn't want to do this. Only bad things could come of seeing the memories his mother had chosen to leave him. The letter had been bad enough. His magic had gone wild during his sprint from the library. It had, in fact, been his magic that had knocked down the professor, as he had not been anywhere near the man; though, to give Snape at least a little credit, he didn't think the professor realized that. Just as well he didn't, Harry thought, knowing it would lower the man's opinion of him even lower than it already was - if that was even possible.
He pushed that aside, turning his attention to his previous thoughts. Why had she written that letter? It had been more than enough to know that his mother had lost her life protecting him; to know that she had purposely chosen to sacrifice her soul to leave an unheard of layer of protection around him was simply too much. How was he going to explain that to anyone? Did he even want to?
For the most part, no, he decided. He didn't want the pity that knowledge was sure to produce. Unfortunately, to his way of thinking, Remus had a right to know. He'd been her friend all those years ago. He deserved to know just what she'd done, the lengths she had been willing to go to. Maybe he might even agree with Harry that it would have been better left to obscurity just how he had survived Voldemort's attack. Then, maybe, he might not feel so guilty about the anger he was feeling about the whole thing. He was so angry right now, he could almost hate her. And that made him feel even worse. How could anyone who wasn't evil hate someone who had given up so much for them?
"Harry?" the headmaster called quietly.
It was only then, that Harry realized he was letting his magic get away from him again. Wind whipped around them, tearing at clothing and hair alike. He took a deep breath, forcibly calming himself. It helped - a little - at least enough that the wind died down and nothing and no-one got thrown around. For that, he was grateful. He was also grateful for the fact that no-one called him on it. He wasn't sure just how he would react if they did.
"Yes, headmaster?" he asked.
"I would like to ask your permission for Professor Snape to accompany us into the pensieve."
It was all Harry could do to prevent his jaw from hitting the floor, especially after he noticed the professor's startled twitch. Why in all that was holy would he allow that?
"It might be helpful to have his perspective," the headmaster added, smiling slightly. "He might catch something we miss."
Closing his eyes against the hopeful look on the headmaster's face, he tried to force out the word no, but couldn't. Some, small, rational part of him knew the headmaster was right, but he couldn't help but think that Snape would do nothing more than scoff and sneer at what his mother had to say, that he would denigrate what his mother had sacrificed as a waste. He really didn't think he could handle that, not right now. Because of that, he couldn't force out a yes, either. Finally, tired of fighting, he simply nodded. It was the best he could offer.
"Thank you, Harry," the headmaster acknowledged, then beckoned him forward.
He went, stopping when he was standing right next to the pensieve, still sitting on the corner of the library table. Snape moved to stand by his left and the headmaster by his right. Closing his eyes, he reached out, letting his fingers touch the surface of the silvery liquid. When he finally opened his eyes, the first thing he saw was his mother. Beside him, Snape gasped and Harry was almost tempted to look at the man. He couldn't tear his eyes from his mother long enough to do so, however.
She was beautiful. He could certainly see why his father had fallen for her.
"Lily," Snape breathed, shocking Harry utterly.
That hadn't sounded like Snape at all. It was enough to force his eyes from her to him. Unfortunately, Snape's expression closed off immediately and Harry was unable to interpret the expression he'd only glimpsed. Shaking it off as unimportant, he returned his gaze to his mother, just in time to see her wave into the mirror she was looking at.
"Hi, Harry," she said softly, smiling. "I feel very strange, sitting here talking to a mirror as if it's you, but that's a little better than talking to thin air, I suppose."
Harry laughed a little at that, his mother's voice tearing at him, preventing him from finding her comments as funny as they might otherwise have been. He wasn't sure he would ever be capable of finding it truly funny.
"To cut a very long story reasonably short," she began, shaking her head sadly. "We've gone into hiding because of a prophecy. It's about He Who Must Not Be Named and the one person who can rid us of him. Albus - Headmaster Dumbledore - isn't certain who it refers to, as there are two who fit the requirements so far. If it turns out it's about you, I'm sure you've long since heard of it."
Long since? Harry scoffed. No. But heard of it he had. That prophecy was the reason he not only didn't have parents, but didn't have his godfather either. That prophecy had ruined his life!
"So, I won't go into details about that. What I want to talk to you about, is what we plan to do to help protect you in the event that we can't be there to do it ourselves. We're at war, Harry, and nothing is certain in war. I hope this truly isn't necessary, but I don't want to take the chance this would come upon you without warning."
Harry let out a sound that was half whimper half snort. Too bad that! he silently complained. How could I have been prepared for this? What warning could there possibly be?
"Your father knows only part of what I'm planning. He isn't happy with it, and has tried to talk me out of it, so I didn't tell him the rest. He might refuse to help if he knew what I'm really going to do."
Harry did whimper then. What else had his mother done? Did his father know about the soul thing? Or was it something else he knew about? He really didn't think he could handle anything else. He really didn't. His instinct was to run, to run far and fast and never have to face this, ever. A gentle hand falling on his shoulder stopped the half formed idea, however. He wouldn't do that, couldn't disappoint the headmaster that badly - despite his mixed up feelings toward the man.
"In my obsession with collecting books, I stumbled across an ancient ritual. When I first found it, I really didn't give it much thought. I was young, and like most kids didn't like to think about death, especially my own. But when I learned of the prophecy, my mind almost automatically thought back to it. You see, Harry, the ritual requires two sacrifices, one of life, one of magic, in order to function."
Harry's mind was completely numb. He could do nothing but listen, not really taking it all in, just . . . storing it all.
His mother breathed deeply, and sighed. "The fidelius we will be hiding under is, of course, our first line of defense. Your father is the second. We have already invoked the first third of the ritual. If he discovers where the three of us are living and attacks, your father will stall them as long as he can. Which will hopefully enable you and I to get away. If not, his death will serve a bigger purpose, it will be the sacrifice of life and will begin the second part of the ritual. If he reaches us, I will be ready. My part in this is to sacrifice my magic. You will become the conduit for it."
Three gasps echoed, letting Harry know he wasn't alone in his shock.
As it passes from me to you, an unseeable shield will form and that will temporarily protect you from him. When you grow into your magic, Harry, you will be able to access my magic just as you do your own. You will sense no difference between the two. Please understand, Harry. I had to make sure you survived. It matters not to me whether or not you are the one the prophecy speaks of. My only concern is that you survive."
His mother looked down briefly then, tears filling her eyes. "Once I've completed that portion of the ritual, I will have no defense against him. I highly doubt I will survive that."
Yes, you would have! Harry screamed silently, his own tears sliding down his face. I saw it. He said you didn't have to die. Didn't you trust your own magic?
"With my willing death, the third part of the ritual will begin - the part I never told your father about. When my soul is released from my body, it will surround you, affording you a protection nearly forgotten by the wizarding world, Harry. It too, is finite in its protection, but will linger far longer than the shield caused by the magical transfer. I don't know how much longer; it truly depends on how . . . persistent he is, and how many times he gains access to you. According to the text, you'll know when the protection is gone, for my soul will manifest itself visibly for a short time before dissipating completely."
Harry sobbed. She really was truly was gone then. He had never wanted to be wrong more in his entire life. Harry wanted nothing so much, right then, as to destroy the two that had come to steal his birthright from him. They had taken his mother from him forever.
"Harry, I love you with everything I am. You are the best creation of my life."
She paused for several moments then, but Harry couldn't look away. He couldn't see her through his tears, but he couldn't look away, either.
"As I said before, nothing is certain in wartime, so I don't know which of the people we've assigned as guardians are looking after you, but I want you to pass on my love to them. Can you do that for me? Your primary guardian is your godfather, Sirius Black. He and Remus Lupin should be taking excellent care of you. Should something befall Sirius, Remus is next in line to assume full guardianship. And if he too has fallen, then - with your father's reluctant agreement - Severus Snape is third in line. "
"What?" Harry yelped, his exclamation sounding right alongside the professor's.
"Please, let Severus know that I forgave him a long time ago. Also, you do have other relatives, Harry. And, if you're willing, I would like you to seek out my sister Petunia. She will probably be a little hostile, but there is a letter in a vault that you will gain access to after you turn 18. Please take it to her, and let her know that, even if we drifted apart because of what I am, I truly loved her."
Harry couldn't respond, even if she had been able to hear him. It was all too much.
"One last thing, Harry," his mother continued, "when you do pass on - surrounded by your great grandchildren - please tell your father that I love him."
With that, the memory faded, and Harry found himself on his knees in the library - not that he could see it very well.
"Well," the headmaster said softly, and Harry's head popped up so fast his neck twinged in violent protest, but the older wizard didn't say anything more, seemingly at a complete loss for words.
Harry understood the sentiment. What did you say after seeing what they just had. He certainly didn't know. Actually, he was certain of only one thing. His life was never going to be the same again. He felt like he'd just lost any remaining innocence he may have managed to retain until now.
End of Episode One
Episode Two is Titled: Destiny's Control
Kiristeen ke Alaya
Feedback: is the ink with which I write! Please review.
I must admit, I'm beginning to wonder if this series is very good at all. :( I've never had such a low turn out. It's really quite depressing.