Disclaimer from the Prologue applies: All characters and the HP universe belong to JKR, we are only borrowing them for our entertainment.
Disclaimer 2: This is NOT MY STORY, it's a translation of Lilyanjudyth's original work written in Hungarian. I'm posting it here with her permission.
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Chapter 12. Omniscience: Part 1.
And so, while the professor continued working quietly, believing that Harry was asleep, a plan began to form in the boy's mind.
He could find out all they needed in order to cure his friends, if only he managed to break into Voldemort's mind to view his memories. Regrets of not paying closer attention during Snape's Remedial Potions classes flooded him for a moment. But he couldn't afford to think about Sirius, or the other tragedies of his fifth year, now.
In any case, he could not have attempted Legilimency from such a distance, unless he was an expert of Voldemort's caliber at the mind arts. Harry remembered that after his fifth year Hermione tried to tell him about various sorts of mind-linking techniques. After Harry's experience she spent a few days in the library, turning to her beloved books to try to make sense of what happened. And even though Harry didn't want to hear her conclusions, he felt obliged to listen after dragging her to the Department of Mysteries that fateful night.
Not that he paid close attention to her impromptu lecture, but he did recall her mentioning a particular potion. He remembered only because he was shocked to realize that the potion would have enabled him to access the mind of any person who has shared a personal thought with him. Of course according to Hermione's books this was done by sharing a memory in a Pensieve. So with this potion he could read the minds of Professor Snape and the Headmaster, having entered their pensieved memories.
And while he had not seen one of Voldemort's personal memories in a Pensieve, the evil monster has certainly shared his thoughts with Harry through their link. He never would have believed that the dreams, which led him to cause Sirius' death, would help him out in the future.
"This could work." Harry murmured to himself. All he had left to do was to get hold of a vial of that potion, drink it and find out directly from Voldemort what disease was killing his friends.
He could hear the soft clinking noises that he now associated with the Professor stirring a cauldron. Waiting patiently he went through his plan a few more times before he heard the door creak. Snape had obviously left the room, and from the sound of his footsteps Harry thought that the man must have gone down to the kitchen…perhaps to get another cup of coffee.
He opened his eyes slightly and looking around the room carefully he concluded that Professor Snape was indeed absent. Harry hesitated briefly, afraid that the Professor would return any moment. But, true to his Gryffindor bravery, he soon decided that if he was to do something, it had to be now.
Standing quietly he took a few stealthy steps to the potions cabinet. He opened the door, and began to look through the rows and rows of neatly labeled vials. Most were labeled with the Professor's elegant cursive, and he immediately realized that the potions were in alphabetical order on each shelf. It didn't take long to find the vial he wanted, it was on the bottom shelf filed under the correct letter.
Harry was sure that the Professor would never talk to him after this, but if he could save everyone, it was worth it. Even losing the Professor's fragile trust.
Picking up the vial with two fingers, he turned it around observing it from all sides. There was no description attached, not explanation on how to use it, or whether he would fall asleep during the procedure.
"What was he thinking: a procedure?! He was about to break into Voldemort's mind for his memories! Perhaps he should think about it as an attack or assault, rather than a procedure." He thought to himself.
Sighing deeply Harry broke the wax stamp on the vial. Once he drank it, he could return to the armchair, and after a nap he would have all the information they needed. Nothing to be scared of, upon waking he would immediately inform Snape about everything.
Telling himself that he would be fine when the Professor resumed hating him, Harry lifted the vial to his mouth. The stench of the potion had him gagging.
"Okay, on three." Harry mouthed, even as he was about to empty his stomach thanks to the smell of the brew. "One…two…three."
After a deep breath he downed the entire vialful of liquid. He faintly noted that its taste was worse than its odor, but after a few deep breaths he was feeling much better. As he took a few steps toward his warm armchair Harry tried to focus on the memories Voldermort had sent him during his fifth year. A few moments passed before new images of horrendous memories started to flick in and out of his mind's grasp.
Walking slowly Harry almost managed to reach the armchair, but his legs gave in and he found himself lying on the ground. The empty vial fell from his grasp, but instead of breaking it rolled away, only to stop under the workbench.
He attempted to pull himself up, but at the same time it felt like he was being transported somewhere with a portkey. Except, this portkey was faulty, and it kept swinging him back and forth between different places.
In the end the potion won. It knocked him out, and he fell back to the floor with his limbs numb. While his body stayed, his mind got transported through space and time to land exactly where he wanted it to: in Voldemort's mind. The monster's memories took him to what looked like a decrepit potions lab, complete with an audience composed of at least a dozen Death Eaters, all wearing black garments and white masks.
They were dangerous, but he was the most dangerous person here. He could smell the pungent odor of their fear, and he remembered punishing each and every one of them before. Punishing them until they cried out in pain, writhing on the floor and pleading for his forgiveness and mercy. Oh yes, he remembered crushing the life out of the ones whom he believed to be traitors. They deserved it; their life belonged to him.
There he stood in front his followers, with a phial in his hands. A phial, whose contents had pushed the wizarding world into the current nightmare.
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The potion's effects washed over Harry so swiftly that he wasn't sure he could retain the amount of information he received. But he soon realized that the brew empowered the user to see only, and not to hear the contents of the memories.
He remembered seeing all the dark hooded figures expressing their delight, when upon tossing the phial to the floor of the laboratory it exploded in heavy fumes. He saw admiration on the face of his Death Eaters, a few of whom applauded with pleasure. Then everyone became attentive as they all came up to receive a vial with the potion.
Once all of them had left the building, he walked up to the shelf that held the components of the potion. Having surveyed them with a sense of satisfaction, he destroyed everything without exception, thus eliminating all traces of his work.
Harry woke coughing and angry, disappointed at the inadequacy of the information he obtained. He barely made to get up off the floor, when Snape walked back into the lab. The Professor followed his movements with curiosity, as Harry tiredly moved back to the comfort of his armchair. His whole body was shaking, and to hide it from the perceptive eyes of the potions master, Harry immediately pulled the blankets over his torso, stuffing his arms under the cover as well.
"I fell down. It must have been a bad dream." He even managed a weak smile as he stammered out his excuse. "Maybe I shouldn't have slept here."
The potions master merely raised an eyebrow in response.
"Perhaps it is time that you slept in your bed." Was his only comment, but he continued observing the boy intently.
"True." murmured Harry, and wrapping himself up in the blanket he tried to make his escape before the professor noticed something. He almost made it to the door when Snape called after him.
"I will be down here all night if you need me."
If you need me… how strange it was to hear any adult say that. Particularly Snape.
"I will keep it in mind." whispered Harry without looking back.
He pulled the door closed behind him, and slowly made his way toward his room, dragging the blanket along. He felt more and more tired as he got closer to his room. By the time he reached the door, he had to lean against the doorframe to stop from falling.
Somehow he managed to remain standing, and after closing the door he fell down on his bed unconscious.
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AN: Sorry for the delay. RL, and all. But won't abandon the story. And I will even remember to post the chapters as long as there are interested readers. Happy new year!
