Chapter Ten: The Proof of Existence
Author's Note: See this is the thing, I've got a new job and its pretty demanding. Not in that it takes a lot out of me, it's just that it starts at 6 AM and goes till 2:30 PM and I have to be up at 4 AM just to make it, so it's harder for me to write. But this story and all my others mean a lot to me
It never ceased to amaze Daphne just how much room the Ministry of Magic occupied. After years of working inside of the building and even giving the tour to others a few times herself, there were always new rooms to explore. It was taking them so long to reach this room, she wondered if there would be time to grab a bite to eat afterwards. But Daphne's boss had been adamant she and Blaise at least get a look at what was going on. He couldn't explain it to them, though she didn't know why.
A row of stone columns ushered them up to a door and she paused to read something inscribed on a fairly recently added plaque. As she read the words the realization flashed over her face. Formerly the Hall of Prophecy—on June the 16th of the year 1996 Harry Potter, Ronald Weasley, Hermione Granger, Luna Lovegood, Ginevra Weasley, and Neville Longbottom bravely stood their ground in what would later become the first volley fired in the Second Wizarding War. For their bravery and conviction, Britain is eternally grateful.
Despite her best efforts, Daphne's face must have betrayed her because Blaise furrowed his brow and glanced down at her. "What's the matter?" he asked. "Look like you've just seen a ghost, Greengrass."
"Did you know where we were?"
"I suspected as much, not much reason to leave a room empty in a place as strapped for space as the Ministry," he leaned back against the column, with a sarcastic smirk on his face.
"And you don't seem to care much about it either."
Blaise shrugged. "Never been a huge fan of monuments, if that's what you mean." Daphne's blue eyes narrowed and she turned to him with an angry sigh. "And I really don't care for reminders of the War," said Blaise. She didn't need to hear more on the reasoning why, the War had changed everythng. If her parents had been alive today they might have complained about all of the anti-blood-purity legislation getting thrown up and the way some of the more respectable families were now housed in Azkaban.
June sixteenth. Her parents had died only a week later. With Voldemort out in the open and free to move about gathering followers, he had immediately started working the pure bloods at the top of the chain. Only a year and some change later, Blaise's parents had been killed for the same reason. This event had forced them into a friendship of sorts—pure blood youngsters who fled Britain to escape Voldemort. There was no way they could stay to keep up appearances; they had younger siblings to worry about.
She pressed on through the door into the Hall of Prophecy. It was so incredibly massive, that she wasn't sure how to approach it. The sheer size of the room distracted her for a split moment from the greasy beast that paced up and down a large cage in the center of the room. As she watched the thing something prickled inside of her mind. Not a physical sensation, but it felt like…it felt like being touched by those hands again.
Standing there in the doorway, Daphne shivered and she could feel those powder dry hands gliding over her tear stained cheeks. The afterglow of the Killing Curses he had sent for her parents still hung in the air. She had thought about that night so often and how Voldemort had loomed there in the doorway regarding her and her younger sister with those red eyes. She didn't know why they had been spared. But why was she thinking of all this right now?
When, at last she snapped back to reality Blaise was rocking her by the shoulder and regarding her with a curious expression. "What is that thing?" he asked. The creature paced the cage, but its eyes were locked on Daphne. .
"If the Unspeakables are here dealing with it, we might never know," Daphne said.
Blaise shivered so hard that he bumped into her and she instinctively clutched for her partner's hand. "Do you think they honestly needed to call us in here?"
"You're shaking," she said. "Hit Wizards are as good as anything when no one knows what a creature is," Daphne added.
Whirling around to look at the door, she could tell that Blaise was nervous before he even spoke. "Do you feel that…it's almost like…"
"…Dementors," Daphne said. There was a bolt of pain, something white-hot flashed in her mind. For an instant she could see herself straddling Blaise's lap, writhing against him. Despite it lasting only a second she could feel the detail of it, hear the exasperated breaths welling up from inside of her. She could swear he had been nibbling at her neck.
These weren't her memories. This had never happened. Her eyes trailed over to Blaise and he was looking back at her, the awkward nervousness between them welling up until it seem like they might burst.
"I was looking for both of you," Shacklebolt, the Minister of Magic idled into the room. He was a former Auror and a fearfully massive man, one of the few who seemed like he might not even need a wand if things got out of hand. He slapped a large palm to Daphne's back. "It looks like I'm going to have to lower your pay," he said.
"What?"
"Why?"
"Didn't you see this morning's Prophet? Someone killed a notorious Wizard who was an expert in wandless combat—they ejected his insides and left his body laying in the lake at Ottery St. Catchpole. We're bringing the body in to make a positive idea."
Daphne motioned to the door. "It's quieter out here," she said. The second they were outside her head felt clearer. But the image of she and Blaise was burned into her memory. "Do you think we have a vigilante?"
"If we do, we need to thank him. Though I still want you two out at the scene, see if there's something more to this, we're kind of short changed on Aurors at the present," said Kingsley.
Blaise and Daphne nodded.
Wide eyed with shock, Harry watched as Hermione battled the wandless Wizard atop the lake. Her spell work was impractical, half of what she did was the kind of thing that had never been meant for battling. But as he watched her dispatch of the man with the curse that made his insides vault out of his mouth, Harry wondered if she hadn't been hiding this talent for all of these years.
"Incredible, isn't she?" asked Dee from her spot next to Harry. The two of them were standing about a foot off the water in mid air, Harry didn't question why. "I would say this moment right here is going to be the Crowning Moment of Awesome for Hermione Granger," Dee held her hands up, forming a little box in the air with her index fingers and thumbs touching—as if to say she were taking a snapshot.
"How did—how did she get like this?" Harry asked.
Dee shrugged. "It's called taking a level in bad ass. Though the really important part is coming up…" Dee pointed with her cigarette to where Hermione had returned to the shore next to Harry's body. She lay against his lifeless form and Harry fought the urge to jump back into his body or to even just call out to her. As if she sensed what he thought Dee said, "She can't hear you or see you, remember?"
"Yeah."
"All of this happened hours ago in your timeline," Dee said.
Hermione kissed Harry on the forehead and pressed her face against his. She was crying hysterically and grasping at her stomach as if in pain. Then Harry realized—if this was hours ago, Ginny must know by now…
The thought of her grief clenched his heart tight and he tugged at Dee's arm. "Let's get out of here," he said.
She nodded. "Don't go thinking this is some sappy Christmas story where I show you what your life would be like if you became a better person or never lived," she said.
"What?"
"I just want to clarify, if I show you something it's not for the betterment of your life. You're still one person and I have no reason to worry over one death, normally. What I'm trying to show you is something that will help you protect the world from what's coming," Dee said.
Harry glared at her, they were in some kind of limbo. Everything was hazy and gray and there was fog all around them. He couldn't see but something gave him the idea they were standing in water. "I don't think I understand."
"Of course you don't," Dee said. "Not yet. But I might not have long. I'm going to show you how your over active sense of mercy has gotten those around you killed," she said.
"Aren't Angels supposed to be all about mercy?"
Dee rolled her eyes. "Mercy shouldn't be so freely given," she said. "And yet your life, even before you were able to remember driven by a series of bad choices. I guess it didn't all turn out bad, you have the Weasley's and Hermione and some other people. But your parents could have picked anyone to be their Secret Keeper…they passed on two loyal friends for a Death Eater. Your mother and father going about unarmed in their home when Voldemort was looking for them….the face that Dumbledore chose for you to live with the most horrible people he could have picked…"
Harry cut her off. "I get your point," he said.
"Now for the fun part," Dee started and clapped her hands together. "We're going to skip back to your first year of school and look at a little montage of sorts, every death you could have prevented, every moment when you did the human thing…"
"You want me to be some kind of murderous monster?"
"Sometimes Harry, life requires that we be monsters," Dee said.
It was nearing lunch time and Hermione couldn't really be sure how much time had passed, it wasn't what she was worried about. Ginny had finally fallen asleep, slumped against the door of the house so that no one could leave. Every so often she would open her eyes and glance around the room at everyone only to nod back off.
There was nothing that they could say to Ginny, she had done what she could to stave off the fright and tears but everyone knew it would flood in on her eventually. Harry was gone and they were sitting on their hands doing nothing to find out who this group had wanted him dead was. Hermione couldn't believe she was feeling this, she wanted to be out there hunting these people down.
"He's still laying there," Luna said as she descended the stairs. "He looks peaceful, actually. I wouldn't worry Ginny, really. I'd like to think he's just sleeping like a stone…"
Luna was off, more so than normal. Hermione had noticed her in between bouts of her own guilt. It seemed that her mind was cursed with the constant need to be working and even the small observation she had noticed with Luna was one more thing that could partially occupy her mind, keep her from thinking of what happened in town.
A warm hand fumbled against the side of Hermione's body, she didn't move at first but as the hand snaked its way toward her bra she whirled around and slapped Ron square in the face. Hermione rounded on him, bounding up from her chair and staring him down. "Just who the Hell do you think you are? You've got some bloody cheek to pull a thing like that right now!"
"Hermione I wasn't…I was trying to remind you…about the stone, the one she gave us," Ron said.
Two things dawned on Hermione at the same time; everyone in the entire room was staring at her in shock and she had hidden something very special and very rare in her bra only hours before—The Resurrection Stone. She delved her hand down the front of her shirt and fished the smooth black rock out and palmed it. No one else in the group knew what it was, most of them had ever laid eyes on the thing before Harry tossed it.
Of course some of those in the house had grown up with Xenophilius Lovegood. "That's one of the Hallows," Luna piped up. "The Resurrection Stone…"
Hermione massaged the small rock in her hand and looked around the room at everyone. Ron seemed to be thinking the same thing, that's why he had gone for it. "You've got to try it—Harry would do it for you and me…he'd do it for Ginny."
"But the story…it said it brings people back wrong," Hermione said.
"The story is just a story maybe, and even if it's not you're like the smartest person I've ever met. If anyone could figure it out, it'd be you..." Ron said.
Hermione couldn't help but blush.
Daunte, the Wizard who had come with Luna was sitting in the corner alone. He looked up when they mentioned the Hallow, but he still didn't say anything.
"What is this place?" Harry asked.
Dee shrugged. "It's hard to explain…but it's called The Proof of Existence. It's made of the essence of memories, but I can rearrange them as I feel fit."
Being pulled from time to time by Dee wasn't like Apparation or using a Port Key; it felt like changing scenes in a movie or turning the page in a book. One second they were watching Quirrell crumble into ash and then the next they were seeing the Basilisk slain, its blood running down Harry's arm as he went to revive Ginny. The memory seemed fresh to him as he watched it, back then even she had these feeling for him and even as he watched her on the ground there he realized it.
Fade to black and scene.
Harry watched himself as he vowed to kill Sirius Black for the betrayal of his parents and all of the pain he had caused him. Then another change, Harry was letting the real man who had caused their deaths walk away.
"See that, right there?" said Dee.
"I lived it."
"That was your mistake, you could have prevented the early return of a tyrant and smote the person who wronged your family," Dee said.
Harry shook his head. "My parents wouldn't have wanted it…"
"…your parents kindness and willingness to trust in the good will of people got them killed. They trusted a person whom for all intensive purposes thought of them as little more than a means to an end. Do you think Pettigrew felt remorse? Did you think him to be hiding as a rat to watch over you for your safety?"
"What's the point of this?" his tone verging on anger now.
Dee snapped her fingers. "Cedric Diggory. If you had just taken the cup and left him stunned in the hedges you would have saved his life…"
"How was I supposed to know that? You just seem to be blaming me for all of these things," Harry said.
"Just as Voldemort marked you as his equal, you marked him as yours. You allowed Pettigrew to live and he spilled your blood into Voldemort's veins to grant him the freedom to touch you. Then your humility and kindness and need to show mercy risks those around you. I need to know that you're able to switch off, I want you to be able to kill without discrimination and when need be without remorse."
"You want me to rob someone of their life?"
"The soul is eternal, if they were truly good, then they have nothing to worry about," Dee smiled.
Harry stiffened and made a small noise in his throat.
"This is a good one, watch." Dee was standing before the ghostly memory of Sirius Black being knocked through the veil in the Department of Mysteries. Thing progressed along until Harry was chasing Bellatrix Lestrange and he attempted to use the torture curse on her, this time though—it worked.
Harry stepped away from Dee in horror as he watched himself pin Bellatrix against the wall and he struck her with the curse again. "This is for the Longbottoms…and for everyone else you've ever hurt…I'll make sure that you never raise a wand again," Harry spat. She was crumpled up on the floor writhing in pain still when Harry pointed the wand at her temple and cast the memory altering spell…
…only the him back them didn't know it and the incantation was the least of the problems with it. If used incorrectly it could scramble the brain. Bellatrix Lestrange's eyes went blank and she sobbed on the ground. She wrenched and rolled over onto her back. The Harry accompanying Dee couldn't believe his eyes.
"What was that?" he said.
"What could have happened if you had the balls, you could have ended the bitch right there. Instead she went on to almost kill several of the people closest to you…" the world went dark and around Harry were several bodies. Luna was the first he noticed, she seemed so much tinier without life and her bones punched at the skin. Hermione was battered and bruised, the color gone from her skin and the words 'Mudblood' and 'Whore' etched into her arms in drying wounds. Ron was slit open, like someone would open a crab. His insides blossoming out like a flower and when he saw Ginny, he couldn't look. She was dead but still moving. "She led the charge into Hogwarts that night when Dumbledore died. She forced her own nephew to take up a post in an evil, racist terrorist organization. She did everything wrong she could!"
"You could have done this to us Harry," Ginny's body said as it slowly sat up. The hurt and blame in her voice tore at Harry even though he was sure it wasn't real. He wasn't sure what kind of powers Dee could have possibly had.
Then he saw the scene playing out still, past the bodies of his friends, past that possible reality. Harry was confused, but as he watched the bodies faded and he was watching himself lording over Bellatrix. "More than likely Voldemort will be so angry with you he will end you despite you not having your memory…" he said.
Bellatrix cried on the ground. "Please…someone help me!"
"A waste of breath…no one who'd want to help you can now, you're alone. Even the Dark Lord himself can't hear you now…"
"Can't I, Potter?" the voice sent chills down the back of real Harry as he watched. Voldemort seemed to meld out of the shadows. His thin, terrible snake-like face smiling as he sauntered forward, barefoot. He was always barefoot.
The dream-Harry remained quiet.
"Gone quiet all of a sudden, boy? Don't you see, you're all alone again with me and here we stand. You're always going to be alone—no matter what you might think…and if you wish to kill Bellatrix, you may but realize it makes you like me and that's the only point I need make. They'll never understand who you are!"
To Harry's shock, the him from the past that never was raised the wand killed Bellatrix with a killing curse, he leveled the wand on Voldemort glaring, tears welling up around his eyes. "I'm not like you—I kill to protect and avenge others and mark my words, I will kill you just the same!"
The memory faded and they shifted into nothingness. He and Dee were standing in the upper room of the Burrow, Ginny's old room. Only it was different. It felt dull and gray, like the color had been drained out of it. The house seemed empty and there were no signs of life even out the window. "A hero knows when to kill, Harry—you may have saved lives, but you lost the key to being a hero when you put the monsters and human waste you were trying to stop on level with the people you meant to save."
Harry was silent for a long time. "Where…"
Dee cut across him. "We're in the in-between, relax its just a shadow cast by reality. But you're soul is safe here until we're ready. You are to wait here for now, don't wander off…" she said.
Harry nodded as he tried a seat on the bed, good he didn't fall through.
"I'd like to thank you for choosing the Angel of Death Airlines…please use caution when reflecting back on these events as the perception of the contents of your memory may have shifted during the flight. Have a nice day," Dee said mimicking a stewardess and suddenly she was in one's outfit too.
Then without another sound, in the space of time it would have taken to blink an eye, she was gone.
Author's Note: Sorry for the wait, the next one should be a little faster, my days off approach.
