Thank you Ayumu Kasuga for beta-reading this thing.
Chapter 8
Harry was annoyed, even bordering anger. Remus had stepped into his room just a while ago, and Harry didn't even look at him. Remus knew something was wrong, and it was probably his fault, "Harry?" he tried.
There was a cold, dark-eyed glare sent his direction that sent a train of goosebumps down Remus' arms, "What did we say about that name?" was the hissed reply and Remus nodded, looking away, "Sorry..."
"Is there something you want?"
Remus shifted, "Do you have a second?"
Harry sighed, beckoning towards the only chair in the room, "Please," he offered and Remus smiled weakly, "Thank you," and he fell heavily into the chair, watching Harry on his place on the ground next to his laptop, "How are you faring?" he asked politely.
"Not well, thank you," the last part was said with such sarcasm that Remus almost felt a sort of joy in his heart. That was like the Harry he had known...
"Oh," Remus bit his lip, already worried to tatters, "I'm sorry."
Harry didn't believe his apology and merely brushed it aside. He had more pressing matters they had to talk about, "Remus, I want to ask you something."
"Y-yes?"
"..." and his fingers paused in their typing, and the cold rage in Harry's dead eyes returned, piercing him like a sword right through his gut, "Why did you tell?"
Remus' stomach lurched and cold sweat ran down the back of his neck, "Tell?" he breathed, half-knowing what Harry was talking about. And the slamming of Harry's fist against a leg of the table startled him. The table fell over and the vase on top shattered with a loud noise. The dried roses that were in the vase lied sadly among the sharp pieces of china and water.
Harry's face was contorted into something beastly, and the wolf inside Remus purred at seeing something so like himself, something so animal, "Why did you tell Shen?!" the detective demanded, his temper still flaring even after he had destroyed something, "Did you not promise me?! You promised you wouldn't tell and you broke that promise! You're a liar, Remus! A liar!"
And whether it was the fact that Harry seemed to completely lose his L-persona and revert back to himself or Remus just didn't appreciate being called names, the werewolf found his confidence ebbing back to him and his amber eyes narrowed thinly, dark pupils elongating and he gripped the arm of the chair and broke the wood, "You're a liar too, Harry," he hissed, "You said you'd defeat Voldemort that day, six months ago. You said it would be the last battle. You said we could be happy! You said it, Harry!"
"L!!"
Remus snapped, standing up swiftly and knocking back the chair he was sitting it, "L Lawliet, you're the biggest liar of us all!!" he roared, "That name is a lie, this face is a lie, YOU'RE a lie!!"
"I...!" Harry gasped, heart pounding in his chest and he could feel the blood rushing through his veins, 'That's right. I'm a liar,' Harry bit back a sob and tore his eyes away from Remus' towering figure to where the dead roses laid, fighting back the onslaught of emotions and his bony frame trembled, "That's right, I lie. I probably lied yesterday too. I said I was L... that I wasn't Harry... that Harry Potter was dead," Harry buried his face in his hands and let out a muffled scream, "I made Molly cry, Remus! I made her cry for me! God. I just... feel like keeling over and dying. Just dying."
Remus visibly deflated. He raised a shaking hand to run through his hair, feeling a heavy sigh escape him, "... sorry."
"No, you're not."
"Yes I am," and Remus fell to his knees and laid his hands on Harry's thin shoulders, gripping it tightly, "I'm sorry."
"... me too..." Harry sniffed and ran a hand over his flushed cheeks. He gave Remus a small, crooked smile and patted the werewolf's knee, "Let's fight this battle without contempt. Besides Remus, you're all I have left... of Dad."
Remus blinked, surprised at Harry's openness, and felt the corners of his lips quirk upwards into a smile, "Yeah, that's right."
"I really wanted to forget them."
"... James and Lily?"
"Everyone."
"Oh," Remus dropped his hands from the other's shoulders and nervously scratched his chin, "... you know... that's just not possible."
Harry let out a small breathy laugh, nodding his head, "Yeah. Impossible. This is my fate afterall."
"Fate..." Remus muttered to himself before he brightened, "Ah, the prophecy! I wanted to talk about that actually."
Harry scoffed and turned back to his laptop, resuming his typing with not so much as a shrug, "Nothing to talk about. It's as clear as it comes. Voldemort and I face off, and either Voldemort or I will fall. Simple."
Remus tilted his head to and fro, eyes looking up at the ceiling in thought, "Ah... sure... but what I was wondering about was... that thing you possess that he does not. I was wondering if that was your heir trait."
"Probably not," Harry answered quickly, eyes not looking away from the bright screen, "It doesn't really help me in this battle. It's not like Voldemort would want this sort of power anyway. He wants to eradicate Muggles, not become the best amongst them."
"Why not? I would."
Harry sniffed, brows furrowing a bit, "... you're not exactly Voldemort."
"That's not what I meant," Remus said patiently with a soft smile. Harry didn't quite see the charms in being a superior muggle, obviously. He thought such abilities were completely useless against a wizard, and probably, in terms of strength, it was all for naught. But there was also a simple charm in being a genius, wizard or not, "I wouldn't mind being a genius either way. So what if you can't remember spells or make potions to save your life. You know so many things that normal people don't! How many languages do you know?"
"Five. I speak three fluently."
"See! That's amazing! I only know two and even then I can only speak English well enough. Also, the arithmetic you know is far more advanced, and you know so much that normal witches or wizards don't, and that is amazing!"
Harry frowned, his cheeks a pale pink, "Hm."
Remus smiled and gently pat Harry on the back, ignoring how he stiffened, "I'm sure... your parents and Sirius are all very proud of you."
And something lit up in Harry's eyes. He nervously looked at the werewolf from the corner of his eye and his fingers hovered over the keys of his laptop, shaking, "Do you... really think that?"
Remus stared, unable to believe what he had just heard. Harry, over the last few days, came off to Remus and the rest of the occupants of the house as unfeeling and emitting a strange sort of arrogance. He spent his time doing everything in his power to annoy them and bring them grief, but the Harry before him... hunched over and curled in on himself, was worried about what the dead thought of him, 'Under that cover of a self-confident genius is really the identity of a young, misplaced boy wizard,' and Remus smiled encouragingly, "I know it."
Harry let out a small, shaky breath and closed his laptop, "We must prepare for tonight, Remus," he announced and crawled over and reached under his bed, pulling out a small duffel from underneath, "This will be the last battle," and with practiced movements, Harry loosened the opening of the bag and pulled out a sleek, black handgun from within, "and failure is not an option."
Something was growing in the pit of Snape's stomach.
An unmistakable feeling of dread.
It happened right after L had left the room yesterday. Like a knife in the dark, that feeling stabbed him in the stomach without warning and Snape had keeled over, wrapping his thin arms around himself. Goosebumps crawled all over his skin and he did all he could to not get sick on himself.
McGonagall had come in earlier today, lips pulled into a thin, grim line and she had told him the last battle would be taking place tonight, "And it would do you well to not leave your room at any given time, if you could."
She had left with a huff when Snape ignored what she said and continued to ask about L. And it was probably her sad, sort of pitying, look that caused his insides to jolt and his face to pale.
Something was going to happen. Happen to L.
McGonagall had told him again and again in more ways then one that he was not to leave his room under any circumstances. Snape usually followed the rules well, and in his schoolboy days he always had a keen ear for the voice of authority.
But this was different. It wasn't just a few notes off his homework because curfew was near and the library was closing or it wasn't just being late to class because he refused to run in the halls...
This was that if he didn't leave this room... he would lose a dear friend.
Snape groaned and grounded himself, the cold floor feeling pleasant against his feverish forehead. Something in the background creaked and Snape looked up.
Kreacher stood in the doorway, his gnarled, ugly face twisted into a sinister grin and he spoke in his throaty voice, "Master didn't specify whether Kreacher should or should not open the door all the times," were his only words and he popped out of view.
Snape stared, absently wondering why Potter or Black would want this particular door opened, before he got up on his shaking legs and forced himself forward.
The pain was still present and throbbing low in his abdomen, but it was his fear that urged him on.
He had lost one too many lives in this war, and he was not about to let himself lose another.
Harrry stared blankly at the gathered clusters of Order members, all looking worse for wear, but each of them still had a strange glint of determination in their eyes. And that was how Harry knew this wasn't a lost cause.
Remus approached him, his eyes bright and his lips pulled into a grim smile, "My group is ready."
Harry nodded, "Each of them took the Wolfsbane Potion for certain?"
"Certain."
"Good," and the detective dismissed him, letting Remus return to his group of fellow werewolves, each of them on their toes and looking worse for wear as the their time of transformation neared.
Two hours. That's how long they had until the transformation; the Order would have to move out in just one. Harry raised a fist, silently signaling to the group leaders that they would need to hurry it up; group Portkeys were not as inconspicuous as single portkeys. The earlier, the better.
Each group leader had their own duties of keeping their members informed and made sure to know what sorts of strength or weakness each member had. If one member proved to have an affinity for one single branch of magic, it was their job to make sure they took advantage of that, but in the case a member had some physical or magical defect, it was also their job to make sure that disability would not come to get in the way of that member or, worse, the others.
"L."
Harry turned to meet McGonagall. He greeted her with a curt nod which was returned in a lady-like manner, "How does it look from over there?" Harry asked the woman. McGonagall gave a crooked sort of smile and gestured towards Bill and Charlie's group, "As you can see... at least some of us are very excited."
Harry returned the expression as he watched Bill flex his hand carefully, a wide grin on his rugged face, and Charlie shook from his unbridled excitement. They have been waiting for this moment for their entire lives, and Harry felt a sort of pity that their life goals were to win a war that might end their lives. But then again, it was the same life goal Harry lived with for seven years.
"It would be best that we don't kill that spirit, don't you think so?" Harry asked rhetorically, turning away from the witch to slowly gather up an armful of random rubbish and he spread them all out over the table. The then grabbed a disposable, muggle camera and pressed it into McGongall's hand, "That's for Remus. They will depart in 10 minutes. Make sure he has enough potions for the group."
McGonagall shifted, turning to leave but then paused, meeting Harry's curious eyes as she spoke, "Half of the potions given to the groups were made by Snape. Are you sure it's oka—"
"It's fine," Harry waved off her worries as if it was a speck of dust on his shoulders, "It's not because I trust Shen with my life. It's more of the fact that Shen has more pride in his ability to brew a perfect potion that he could never bring himself to botch it up purposely."
McGonagall said nothing and simply turned and walked away, but Harry knew she was not about to argue with him on the topic because if it concerned Snape... there really was no arguing with Harry.
"We have forty minutes," Harry murmured, looking at the table clock on top of his chair. He looked at McGonagall who immediately snapped into attention, awaiting instructions, "Tell Remus he must gather his group. He'll leave in three minutes. No objections. I will get around to the others. Hurry."
With a curt nod, the woman dashed away to where the werewolves were gathered, and Harry turned the other way towards Fleur who already held a empty, plastic bottle (her portkey) in hand. Harry flashed five fingers her way and received a nod from the French girl.
Harry took a glance back to where Remus' group was last, only to find them gone. He smiled approvingly and marched on over to Charlie and Bill who seemed to have been waiting for him with easy grins on their faces.
"Hey there Mr. L," Charlie called friendlily and Bill silently waved. Harry eyed their soft expressions and confident eyes, but also saw their stiff postures and clenched fists. They were as excited about this fight as they were nervous, "Hello there gentlemen," Harry greeted plainly, "You have ten minutes. Do not leave before Ms. Delacour—my mistake, Mrs. Weasley."
Charlie gave him a thumbs-up and a wide, toothy smile, "Roger that, boss," he sang. His light attitude seemed to put his men at ease so Harry didn't say anything of it. He turned to leave, but stilled when a large, gnarled hand snatched at his wrist and pulled him back. The touch-and-grab startled Harry to a point where he shifted around and kicked his foot out, aiming to catch the offender on their jaw, but even his ankle was caught in a vice-like grip.
But before he could rise to a full-blown panic, a rough, familiar voice stilled him, "Whoa, whoa. Calm down there. Sorry 'bout that, but I... uh... I don't know. I thought it might be awkward to... call your name."
Harry looked up at Bill with his wide, dead-fish eyes. His ankle was released and his foot fell back to the ground with a solid smacking noise. He didn't particularly regret acting like that, but it was still somewhat embarrassing that he lost his cool so easily, "It is no problem," he said softly under his breath, taking his wrist back from the other man and sticking both hands into his pants' pockets, "Is there a problem?"
Bill sheepishly scratched his neck and nodded, "Not so much of a problem... just... something that was on my mind since yesterday. I didn't want to say 'cause I thought you might not appreciate me asking this, but I figured... I had to."
Harry knew at once what was coming and he prepared himself for it. If this was anything like what he felt when Molly looked at him with her wet eyes and trembling body yesterday... he was sure to break.
"Are you Harry?"
Harry ran his tongue over his lips in a nervous gesture and met Bill's dark eyes with his darker ones. Bill was a strong man. He was wise and powerful; someone Harry looked up to in his youth, and even now he was worthy of L's respect.
So Harry was tempted just to say the truth and be over with. But then, he paused on that thought. Just what side was the truth? Surely he was L and he had long ago thrown away Harry Potter's life for a Muggle detective's one. But in the end, with all the magic flowing through his body and all that self-righteous anger that tended to rear up its ugly head whenever those painful topics were called back... Harry Potter could not be easily discarded.
Harry looked back over his shoulder and saw that Fleur was gone. He checked the clock and saw only twenty minutes remaining, "You must hurry now. It's time."
Bill made a sour face at the other man, but was led away by Charlie to the rest of the group. Harry left them to their own business and sought out McGonagall.
She still had his wand hidden somewhere. Harry felt the tips of his fingers tickling for the feel of that familiar, smooth wooden branch, but the L inside squashed it ruthlessly. Harry Potter would only last until after this war... and once this battle was fought and won (no matter which side had come out victorious in the end) Harry Potter must be forgotten in place of L. Must.
"Ah, L. There you are," Harry looked behind his to see McGonagall walking up to him with quick steps. Moody was not to far from her, and a further distance away was a large group of the gathered fighters, "It's time. We must be leaving as well."
Harry nodded, "Very well. Check out potions and weapons bag. We must be well equipped," and he patted his pants pocket for the heavy, metal shape of his handgun. It felt cold against his leg.
"We've already done so. We're ready to leave."
Harry gave her a curt affirmative and followed her quick pace with his own short dash back to the group. Everyone shifted nervously once Harry joined them and pulled out an unassuming belt buckle from inside his pocket, "If everyone will please grab hold of the hand of the person next to you," he said in a clear voice. Everyone obeyed at once and after a quick assessment, Harry handed the buckle over to Moody who took it without hesitation, "Then" he looked at Harry for a countdown, "... at three."
Harry smiled wryly and said in a low voice, "Three."
Snape stumbled out of the room, arm still wrapped around his stomach. He was hurting so much right now...
He was trying to find the other order members, but had somehow found his way into L's room by accident. His feet had just led him here...
With a stuttered gasp, Snape fell on top of L's bed and curled into a ball, mussing the white covers with his movements. He didn't know his body was so cold and his abdomen felt like something was cutting into his right now.
Like Death had seized him in it unrelenting grip and was threatening to pull out his soul from that very spot. It was a burning-cold feeling...
"What the hell's wrong with me...?"
Was he dying? Was the magic in the air killing him after his time in the Muggle world?
Snape gave a shaky breath and pushed himself up to his knees, crawling to the edge of the bed before tumbling off the stiff mattress. He was crumpled on the floor, temple pressed to the ground in an attempt to force back the black spots that danced before his vision like fireworks of shadows. It was all very beautiful and inviting, but still irritating.
Snape reached out a hand to try and pick himself back up again. He grasped the handle of the dresser next to the bed and pulled himself back up onto his hands and knees. His action accidentally opened up the drawer and Snape moved to close it, only to stop when he saw something strange inside.
A wand.
Snape's face formed a thoughtful frown as he realized he's seen this wand before...
In the hands of no one other than Harry Potter.
Snape pushed the memory of the bright-eyed boy back into the deeper recesses of his mind and grabbed for the wand instead.
Instantly, warmth spread throughout his entire body, comforting his aching limbs and even the cold pain in his stomach began to ebb way into a dull throb. How strange. Normal wands wouldn't dare welcome a wizard other than its own master; not unless that master had trusted the other wizard with his life... but Potter would never...
Snape gulped thickly, and his grip on the wand tightened, unintentionally forcing bright sparks to come fizzing out at the tip. Snape released his iron-hold on the handle and instead held it out on in the palm of his hand, inspecting it with curious eyes.
... could he use this?
Pointing the tip of the wand at the pieces of a broken vase on the ground, Snape whispered shortly, "Reparo."
The vase shards twitched into life and fixed itself into a whole again.
And Snape's lips curled into a smirk.
He never thought it would come to this ever, but he would have to thank Potter for this small favor.
And with the wand tucked safely into the inner-pocket of his robe, Snape pulled in the excess magic around the manor, and with a sharp crack, popped out of existence.
-be continued-
Sorry for the lateness, but it's almost over and I'm just so... hesitant.
