Betaed by Barbara
Ergh... she (I mean Barbara) said that this chapter is er…….. depressing. Eh, so I... er... sorry. And it's not the last one.
And another sad news: I can't continue the story until the 15th of November, but I promise that I will upload chapter 15 on the 15th – un-betaed, of course – to my yahoo group. It will appear on ff.net on cca. the 17th (as soon as Barbara sends me back).
I wrote the last chapter. I couldn't resist the temptation... :-P
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Chapter 14 – The shattered Earth***************************************************************************
"Again, Mr Weasley."
"Tempify momentum!" Ron yelled and nervously waved his wand over the book. It didn't want to disappear, as it would have if the spell had been said correctly. He shook his head in irritation as he saw Hermione performing the spell easily and with a genuine grace in her waving.
Professor Flitwick harrumphed unsatisfied.
"Mr Weasley, try again. Concentrate on what you intend, and try to say the spell correctly."
"I'm trying," Ron murmured through his teeth. "But I can't do it."
Harry felt sympathy watching Ron's struggling. This was the second week they were practising the Timing Charm and even he had had several difficulties in casting the spell properly, and although this time he had succeeded, it was just a luck, he knew precisely. And Ron was simply less lucky than him.
The Timing Charm was one of the funniest spells: it made a thing disappear and reappear later in the same place. It was one of the charms, which tricked many times not only the Muggles, but the wizards as well, but generally, it was a common prank humorous wizards played on Muggles: they cast the charm on an object, which disappeared from sight to his owner's utter frustration when nobody was paying attention, and reappeared in the same place some times later driving the Muggle crazy, because he blamed himself for being blind: it was always under his nose, he thought...
They were now training how to cast a very short-termed Timing Charm on their books, which was just a moment long.
"Tempify momentum!" Ron bellowed angrily and hit the book with his wand. With a loud boom the book disappeared – this time totally. The whole class was staring at Ron's desk expectantly, but the book didn't reappear. Finally, Justin burst into laughter.
"Where the hell is your book, mate?" he choked out between two fits.
Ron nervously shrugged and cast an uncertain look at his professor.
"Probably there, Mr Finch-Fletchley," the tiny professor said after a while, then he looked at Ron. "Did you think of any special place when you cast the spell?"
Ron shrugged again and smirked tensely.
"No, not really..." he mumbled and blushed slightly.
"Are you sure, Mr Weasley? Or perhaps your classmate is right and you wished your book to hell..." professor Flitwick winked. Ron's blush deepened.
"Er... perhaps... I'm not sure."
Harry barely managed to bite back his laughter.
"Is... his book in hell, then?" Justin now was smirking widely, and the girls snickered.
The professor scratched his chin in thought.
"Since personally I don't think that hell exists, or even if it exists I don't think it's a place anyway... So the precise location of our Mr Weasley's book is untraceable... but..."
"But?" Neville leaned closer with interest. "It isn't here so it has to be somewhere!"
Many nodded approvingly and the wizard sighed.
"You have a point, Mr Longbottom, but it's not an easy question to answer. Personally I think that the book is in the place Mr Weasley considers as 'hell'. But it's also possible that he managed to send the book into the very distant future, which is like hell for him, so the precise timing was not 'a moment'."
"I see," Neville chuckled and Ron cast a sly glance at him.
"Anyway, I ask you, Mr Weasley to buy another Charms book," Flitwick said. "I don't think we will find it by the next lesson. Oh, and I want you to write a two rolls long essay on the ways you can change the place of the timed object... er... I think not in the way Mr Weasley here showed us..."
Harry was still smiling when he left the room and headed to the great hall for lunch. The only thing which lessened his good mood was the two rolls long essay... but they had the whole holiday to compose it properly, so he didn't let the homework spoil his carefree mood. He would write it well, he would have enough time to do it.
Ron caught him at the entrance of the hall and they sat next to each other at the Gryffindor table.
"I can't believe I sent my Charms book to hell," he muttered, but there was no anger in his voice, just a hint of hilarity.
"Imagine the devils' surprise when a school book appeared in front of them," Harry snickered. "Perhaps it would suggest to them some new ways to torment the damned souls."
"Oh, yes," Ron suddenly burst into a wild laughter. "Harry, look what do you think the devils say to the person they are mad at?"
Harry's eyes widened with surprise. It was the first time Ron called him by his previous first name – and the first time Ron behaved so carefree in his companionship. He shook his head.
"I don't know," he looked at his mate amused.
"Go to heaven."
"What?"
"They surely say: leave me alone, go to heaven!" Ron laughed. "And imagine a devil with my magic skills... as he sends a poor, damned spirit to heaven just by chance and by mere annoyance..."
"A misdirected charm," Harry smirked. "Perhaps you will become the saviour of the underworld..."
They were already halfway through the lunch, when Harry noticed that Hermione was missing. He darted a quick glance towards the Slytherin table, but he couldn't see her sitting next to Ares, and more so, Ares was missing as well. For a moment, Harry considered going to find them, but he soon changed his mind and remained seated. It was surely a relationship-thing, and he didn't want to get involved. Instead, he looked at Padma at the Ravenclaw table and sighed in thought. He had his own "relationship"-problem, although he didn't know what kind of relationship was between him and the Ravenclaw girl. The only thing he knew was that he wasn't in love with her, although he liked her: she was pretty and intelligent, but the only thing they did together was studying (sometimes with Ron and his reluctant girlfriend). Harry wasn't sure his behaviour didn't hurt the girl, but he couldn't help it. The only female person in the castle he had a crush on was professor Noir and nobody else. But that crush was absolutely safe: the woman would never know and he would never enter into a relationship just to leave a grieving girlfriend behind. Because now, he was surer than ever, that something terribly wrong and horrible was going to happen.
Voldemort attacked him much more fervently than ever before and his visions became more frequent during his daytime naps so that the variation of his sleeping method didn't help any more. He somehow managed get away without any visions having Avery (most probably, the man was still maintaining his civil service job and family, and he didn't have time to spend every afternoon in his Lord's service), but as the visions became almost constant during the afternoons, Harry had given up. He returned to the general way of living, and he slept through the nights with the Dreamless Sleep Potion's help. He hadn't told Dumbledore the unfortunate turn of events – it was meaningless. The Headmaster couldn't do anything about it, the only 'good' thing about it was that it had proved the old man's statement: there was a spy amongst the staff, who had known about Harry's new attempts to avoid the visions. It had to be a staff member, because professor Noir had told Harry that she had unwillingly revealed her advice in a staff meeting.
"How?" Harry had been frightened.
"We were discussing my permission for you to enter the Restricted Section," she had answered, being apparently uncomfortable.
"Wasn't your permission enough?" Harry had been surprised. "I thought teachers could permit things to their students freely."
"Yes," she had shifted in her chair. "But not an unlimited permission like yours."
"I see," Harry had nodded. "I guess professor Snape was against the idea?"
The embarrassment had been clearly visible on the stern face.
"Er..." Harry hadn't needed any more proof: it had been clear.
And it was clear even now. The git!
The memory angered him so much that he couldn't finish his lunch. With a sudden movement, he jumped to his feet and marched out of the great hall. Ron stared after him in total confusion. Ron couldn't imagine what stupidity he had said to Harry again. He shook his head desperately and covered his face with his hands. When a hand touched his arm, he looked up.
"I don't think it was you," Neville said and sat next to him. "I think something suddenly occurred to him and he just wanted to be alone."
Ron's stress eased a little bit.
"I don't know," he whispered. "I don't think I know him any more. He is not the person he used to be..."
"He went through many things, Ron."
A bitter smirk crossed the red-head's face.
"I know," he said sarcastically. "He went through my torture as well."
Neville grabbed Ron's arm forcefully.
"Ron, not everything he went through is about you. His captivity, his scars, his relationship with professor Snape and after that the losses: Fred's and Snape's... You know, professor Snape and him were very close," Ron nodded. He knew, of course he knew! He could still see the professor's tear-strained face as he had held the unconscious Harry in that horrible place. "Like father and son. I saw them together many times. And, you know, I envied their relationship. And now..." he waved dismissively. "You can see."
Ron buried his face back to his hands.
"He is alone, again."
Neville's grip didn't loosen.
"He tries to keep us far away from himself."
"We have to help him somehow," Ron croaked weakly. "I don't want to hurt him again."
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When Severus caught the boy – no, not the boy, but Quietus, he corrected himself – leaving lunch in a hurry, he suddenly decided himself. Now or never! With a short excuse he left the table and launched himself after the- after Quietus.
As the boy left the great hall, he began to sprint, but Severus's voice stopped him.
"STOP!" the Potions Master yelled after him. Reluctantly, the boy halted and turned around.
"Yes, sir?" he sneered sarcastically. "Do you want to deduct points for running in the hallway? Will ten points be enough?"
His tone made Severus's blood boil, but he swallowed it back purposefully.
"No," he answered tersely and added, "and don't use this tone with me."
Harry looked at him and shrugged cheekily.
"Yes sir," he said in mocking obedience. "As you wish..."
Severus clenched and unclenched his fists in anger, but didn't react immediately. Instead, he inhaled deeply and shut his eyes for a moment.
"I wanted to talk to you," he finally blurted out.
"There is nothing we can talk about," the boy said and began to turn around.
"You are not dismissed," Severus suddenly snapped. "Not yet," he added more calmly.
The boy didn't turn back, just stopped in movement.
"I just," he gulped audibly, "wanted to tell you that you can attend Advanced Potions if you'd like..."
The boy's reaction was so surprisingly fast that Severus had to back away.
"What!?" the boy whirled around and stepped closer to him. The young face was contorted with rage. "Leave me alone, professor. If you want to insult somebody in your lessons, there is Neville or Hermione, or even Parvati. You like to bully them anyway. Is that not enough for you? You want even me to ridicule, to humiliate again, as you did in the last years? 'Potter, you are an incompetent idiot! A traitor! A big-headed celebrity!'" he mimicked Severus's tone acidly. "And you told me I would never have a chance. And I don't want a chance, not with you!" he shrieked the last part.
When Severus decided to talk to the boy, he had known, that it wouldn't be an easy conversation. But the boy had seemed so calm and kind before... He leaned against the wall.
"No," was the only word he could force out. It stopped the boy's ramblings at least. "No," he went on a little bit more self-consciously. "I was serious. And I'm offering to tutor you during the holidays..."
The ramblings suddenly continued with the same force as it had stopped.
"I. Don't. Need. You!" he cried out every word. "I don't need your stupid tutoring, I don't need your stupid potions class and last but not least I don't need you in my life any more! Can you understand? I don't need you, and you mean nothing to me!"
"I just want to help!"
The boy hit his thigh with his fist in rage.
"Help?" his eyes were blazing. "Oh, I heard about your helpful behaviour in the staff meeting!"
"I just didn't want you to get involved in another stupid, heroic thing again!" Severus replied angrily.
"I know! This is the 'you are not the celebrity you think you are, Potter' speech, isn't it?" the boy almost spat the words.
"No!" Severus began to lose his temper. "This is the 'I don't want you to be hurt' speech!"
Severus really didn't know which part of their conversation enraged the boy, but by now, the once calm and kind face was paled in pure fury.
"You rejected me, git! I saw, I read the document in which you state that you are not my relative, at least not legally, any more, that I'm only your supposed nephew, you stated officially that you rejected me, I'm not your relative, nor your nephew, nor your responsibility any more, so if you want to act on that bloody family spell, then go and protect your precious, little, filthy Death Eater godson, and leave me alone!" he turned to leave again, but this time he stopped via his own will and hissed back over his shoulder. "And I will not spend the holiday here. I will go to my family," he accented the last word and left.
Severus remained alone in the dark and cold hallway. Something had gone horribly wrong. And he didn't really know what it was. He had managed not to lose his temper, he didn't yell at the boy, or more: he didn't use sarcasm against him. All he tried was to be sincere, and Quietus, who in the past had been such a calm, balanced and kind boy had yelled at him with such a fury, which matched Severus's usual tantrums.
And he didn't know why, but something inside his chest was churning in pain. Was it his heart?
The boy had refused to attend Advanced Potions. He had refused to be tutored. He would spend the holidays with Black (Severus was sure that family for him had meant the Squib ex-animagus rather than any Snape), and he would have no time to get to know the boy, to learn to love, to accept him again, and now, that the situation seemed so helpless and final, he suddenly didn't want to lose him, to be shut out of his life.
Severus didn't know how he felt any more. Everything was so chaotic... Whenever he thought of his brother he felt clear and unambiguous warmness, and something else, as if his damaged memories wanted to break free from their prison, nothing solid or firm, just emotions and feelings, mostly during the night, in his sleep... In the last weeks he had dreamed many times that he had been sitting in a damp and cold place in pain and suddenly, somebody had crept near him and put a warm sweater on him and something else, like a blanket surrounded him, and the mysterious figure sat next to him and hugged him tightly. And he had heard a quiet sob, and somebody had been muttering something – and at this point he had woken up. Or another dream, which was clearer: he had been standing next to a grave watching the coffin slowly sinking into the pit, but he saw Black standing on the other side of the pit, his face tear-soaked and shattered and his chest burning with white red-hot pain... And feelings and flashing pictures like these, but the first, with the warm clothes and the hug created the greatest impression: Severus could feel those arms around him even after waking up...
And many times as his eyes caught the boy's sight somewhere in the castle, he felt such joy and affection as never before and other times in the great hall he wanted to go to him and to order him to eat more, because the boy was again nibbling. And he felt pride when a colleague mentioned that Quietus Snape received an O again in Arithmancy, Transfiguration or Charms, and these things were so scary... These feelings were his own and were not at the same time, they were familiar and strange, and sometimes they increased his frustration to unbearable levels.
But as he was standing in the empty corridor, he knew that there was only one thing he could do for the boy to show his... his what? Appreciation? Acceptation? Resignation? he didn't know, but he wanted to show Quietus that he cared for him.
He would withdraw his rejection at the Ministry – but he would ask the office to let Quietus choose where he wanted to stay. He wouldn't claim the guardianship – he would offer it. And even if the boy chose to reject him, he would see that Severus was sincere.
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If Severus had known that Harry was sitting just two corners ahead on the floor, his back against the cold stone wall, he would have followed him and tried to comfort him – but he didn't know. And Harry felt lonely, so lonely that he had felt like this only in his childhood closed in the cupboard, not having friends or any person to talk to, neglected and hated. He was hugging his knees close to his chest and rocking himself slowly back and forth, shivering strongly.
'The git, the git, the git,' he repeated to himself like a lullaby. He hated the man. And now, his newest try to soothe his consciousness or to torture Harry even more – he couldn't decide. Perhaps both.
He needed some time to regain his composure, but finally, he managed to stand up and push his bag to his back. He went to the library: he knew himself enough to know that reading and taking notes was a good way to distract himself from the previous conversation. He pulled some Charms books off of the shelf on his way to his favourite desk, which he hoped would be helpful with the essay he would have to write, greeted Madam Pince politely and walked to the last row of shelves.
But his desk wasn't empty. To his surprise, Hermione was sitting there deep in study, at least ten Charms books in front of her.
"I was wondering where the best charms books could be," Harry said as he put his books on the desk, "but now, I see that you've already picked them."
Hermione looked up and smiled.
"Of course. I don't want to study charms during the holidays. I decided to write this essay as long as I'm here," she suddenly noticed Harry's red eyes. "What happened?" she asked worriedly.
"Don't ask," Harry answered sourly. "Severus caught me in a hallway and we had a row..."
"What did he want?"
"He wanted me to attend his advanced potions class..."
"Wow, Quiet! It's brilliant!" Hermione exclaimed, but Harry's face remained bitter.
"I rejected the idea."
Silence.
"But... why?"
And suddenly, as if nothing had happened between them, Harry sat next to the girl, looked into her eyes and began to tell her the things, which had been buried deep inside him during the last months: the rows, his visit at the Healer, Severus's aggression, the Pensieve, Avery, the hospital, and Hermione wrapped her arm around him and Harry felt as if a heavy burden had left him, somehow the air seemed more easy to inhale, the future was brighter than ever in the last months.
"... and I think I forgave Ron," was his last sentence. Hermione nodded.
After another short silence Harry added, "And I see that your eyes are red as well."
The girl tensed, and released Harry from her embrace.
"Ares and I decided to be friends. Just friends."
Harry looked at her questioningly.
"Did you break up?"
Hermione nodded.
"It was because of me?" Harry risked another question.
"No. We just realised we are not... compatible," Hermione said finally. "And I think Ares wanted to return to Lisa, you know the Ravenclaw girl he tutored last year..."
"He cheated on you?" Harry jumped to his feet. "That bloody..."
"Stop, Quiet!" Hermione grabbed his hand and pulled him back to the chair. "It was a common decision. We tried it. It didn't go well, then we decided to go our separate ways silently, without any show and quarrels. I don't want you to be mad at Ares, he is an excellent boy, although he feels quite badly about you..."
"Why?"
"The summer's events. He saw that Sirius and professor Snape were blaming you for Fred's death..."
"Severus didn't blame me," Harry interjected truthfully. Hermione shrugged slightly.
"Ares thought he did, and he felt guilty and he told me that everything was his fault, not yours."
Harry closed his eyes.
"That was the reason he didn't want to talk to me. He was so closed in this semester, and I didn't notice..."
"You both were too wrapped up in with your problems. I think you should go and talk to him – not about me and our dating, that's not your business, but about the two of you, your guilt, and about what happened in the summer."
"Yeah," Harry muttered thinking of his Slytherin friend. "I think I shut out everybody, not only Ares."
"It's not too late, Quiet. I know that Neville too wants to talk to you, and perhaps Ron would be happier if you'd say to him you forgave him, not to me..."
A short cough stopped her. They looked up, just to find themselves face-to-face with Ron and Neville.
"Speaking of the devil," Harry muttered under his breath, but smiled. Neville smiled back, but Ron just chewed his lips nervously. "Come, sit down. Hermione collected all the books we need to write our homework."
"Er..." Ron smirked. "Hermione, can you lend me your notes?"
"What?" the girl shook her head in annoyance. "Ron Weasley, if you want to write your essay, you will have to use your own notes!"
"Hermione, please," Harry joined Ron's plea.
"Like in the good, old days," Neville said, but his words hit Harry hard.
"Nothing will be like then, Neville," he said and he turned his face to Ron, who suddenly paled. "But it doesn't mean I didn't forgive, Ron."
"You mean... we can be friends again?" Ron asked tentatively. Harry nodded.
"I think we are friends again, Ron. But... this is not that friendship. We both changed a lot, and I flatter myself to think we've grown up."
To ease the sudden tension, Neville opened his mouth, "Harry, I saw professor Snape went after you when you left the great hall. Does it mean that... you two are you okay, again?"
Neville's innocent question again hit Harry so forcefully that he couldn't answer just shook his head.
"No. Quite the contrary."
"Oh," Neville snickered nervously. "Apparently, today I manage to say the most stupid things in my life."
"Come on, Neville. Quiet is a little bit touchy today, but there's nothing to be sorry for," Hermione nudged Harry with her elbow. "Am I right?"
Harry rolled his eyes in mocked annoyance.
"As always, Hermione."
"Why do you call him Quiet?" Ron asked suddenly. Harry sighed.
"Neville, you have a companion in stupidity."
"Quiet!" Hermione yelled at him heatedly. "Look, you can't be hurt by every question we ask! We don't do it to hurt you, we want to know you better, and if you really decided to talk to us, you can't be offended in every moment!" she turned to Neville. "I call him Quiet, because I heard professor Snape calling him likely last year, and I found it unbecoming for him. Perhaps you remember him..."
"Yes," Ron muttered guiltily and lowered his head.
"And when I learned his true identity," she didn't add when to Harry's relief, who didn't want to remind Ron about his attack in Hogsmeade, "I had to pretend the contrary. And I got used to it."
"For me Quietus and Harry are like two different people," Neville suddenly said. "You really changed, Qui- Harry. And many of us don't know how to talk to you, what to call you any more. It was all right, when you were Harry. Then it was all right when you were Quietus. But these revelations... I think many times we don't know what to say, and after your story in the great hall scared us away..." Neville cast a pensive look at him, "I think we realised then that you've grown up – and we are only kids."
After dinner, Harry caught Ares and apologised for the long silence between them.
"I'm sorry, Ares. I was such a jerk to you."
"You're mental. It was my fault as well," Ares's brown eyes smiled at him sadly. "You want to talk to me about Hermione, don't you?"
"No," Harry shook his head firmly. "It's a matter between the two of you. But Hermione told me that you blame yourself for the summer events. I do the same."
Their conversation was long and many times heated afterwards.
But in the night, when Harry finally went to bed, he felt a peace with himself and with the world – except, perhaps for Severus, of course.
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The Christmas holidays were surprisingly happy – in a much more surprising place: after the attack on Black manor, Dumbledore had decided to move both Black and Anne in Mrs Figg's old home in Little Hangleton, close to 4 Privet Drive, and Harry didn't know why, but this fact somehow made him elated. It was like a game to wander around the familiar streets, hallways and avenues, and it was a little bit like returning home: everything was so familiar and different in the same time. The biggest difference was that the inhabitants of Privet Drive didn't look at him with that special kind of expression: fear mixed with well-covered curiosity (as you look at the beasts in the ZOO), but they treated him as the godson of their newest neighbour, Mr Black, who was a perfect gentlemen, albeit sometimes a little bit strange, and whose daughter, to Mrs Dursley's amazement attended the same school her son did long ago.
Sirius told Harry that when he first had seen Anne talking to Mrs Dursley (who, naturally, had wanted some details about their new neighbour) he could barely restrain himself from behaving in an un-gentlemanlike way.
"If I had had my wand and my magic, I would have cursed her to oblivion," he said heatedly. "I remembered how they had treated you, and I remembered how they were standing next to your grave in the cemetery – without tears or feelings... And later they rejected you..."
"Don't take it so hard, Sirius," Harry shrugged. "I'm glad they didn't want me, and now, they can't recognise me, and it seems to be fun for me."
Harry was quite taken aback when he first saw Dudley with his gang: his cousin wasn't as fat as he remembered, although he still didn't have a neck and he was large, but apparently, even he had begun to grow up.
One thing was strange to Harry: he had to live again in a Muggle house, and when he entered his bedroom (the smallest, again: the largest was the two girls' – Hermione lived with them again – and the other was Sirius's) he had to open the window not to feel suffocated. This fact astonished him: after ten years in a cupboard it should have been easier, but apparently, some mental scars remained behind after that two weeks in Voldemort's prison: he felt the same, sickening feeling emerging in his throat, which had attacked him many times after their escape. Perhaps he would never come off the ropes. Just like he would never get through Severus's walls – mostly, because he didn't want it any more. In his life he had to suffer so many changes... Losing Severus was only one of them, a painful one, but only one.
But, all in all, it was a happy Christmas with a lot of gifts for everyone, with crackers and oranges, Muggle crackers in a typical Muggle Christmas, but Sirius seemed much happier than last year, mostly when Lupin arrived with a lot of boxes.
Harry could see that the Muggle way of feasting the Christmas wasn't his glass of butterbeer, but he joined them for some days.
When Sirius invited him to spend New Year's Eve with them, he politely refused.
"There will be a little meeting in the Headquarters, and the whole Order will be on alert – you know how the Death Eaters like to celebrate the New Year."
"Yeah," Sirius muttered. "With torturing and murdering."
"You have to be very careful. Don't leave Little Hangleton. Here you are safe under the Fidelius..."
"Remus, be very cautious. As our secret keeper..."
"This is why I have to stay in Snape Manor with Dumbledore. We will not go on raids. We will be the directors there..."
"Who is your secret keeper?"
"I don't know. Dumbledore knows – and of course, the secret keeper. And perhaps Minerva..."
Sirius shook his head.
"I hate this secretiveness. It will cause no good."
"You are paranoid."
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The telly program was quite boring, so Harry was half-asleep on the sofa, in front of the screen, while Sirius and Hermione were arguing about something – it had to be Anne, again. Harry smiled. Any time Anne came up, Sirius and Hermione soon found themselves deep in argument – and although Harry had never joined their quarrel, he agreed with Hermione: Sirius had been spoiling the girl. The man and the girl were absolutely besotted with each other, but it caused that Sirius simply wasn't able to say 'no' to her. Fortunately, they had left the living room, and so their conversation wasn't too loud and Harry could slumber.
He wasn't really asleep, he was somewhere at the border of dream and wakefulness, but as a tearing pain ripped the scar on his forehead open, he knew that it wasn't a wise idea nevertheless.
He felt himself slipping from the sofa, his heads clutching his forehead madly, but it didn't last too long: soon, the living room disappeared together with the sofa and the telly and the soft conversation from the kitchen and Harry found himself standing in the centre of the living room in Snape Manor, and before he could think anything else, he knew that Sirius was right. There was a problem, again, with the secret keepers.
Voldemort, and at least twenty of his best Death Eaters were standing in the manor's living room, surrounding three pale, fragile figures: one with long, white hair and beard – Dumbledore, another with sandy hear and hazel eyes – Remus Lupin, and a witch, with long, brown hair and eyes – professor Noir. Three people from Harry's life he cared about most, three people he loved... And even if Harry knew that Dumbledore was indeed a very powerful wizard, he also knew that they had no chance. No chance to resist, no chance to survive.
"No!" he shrieked desperately. "No!" he sobbed. "Remus! Headmaster! Professor! No!"
And the next moment the room almost erupted as curses and hexes zoomed towards the standing figures. Voldemort was wise enough not to open a dialog with his worst enemy. He just attacked along with his lackeys, the Inner Circle, Harry knew them well from his previous visions. Remus was the first to be hit by a curse. He fell to his knees, but didn't lower his wand.
"Remus, go!" Dumbledore yelled at him. "Go! You can't remain here!" He couldn't say anything else, just cast a quick shield around the now retching man. "Use the Portkey now!"
"Crucio!" somebody yelled and suddenly, professor Noir collapsed to the ground crying out in pain.
"Finite Incantatum!" Lupin waved his wand and stood up. His face was almost green. A hex attacked his stomach. "Armena!"
The woman looked towards him just to realise that a small object was flying towards her.
"Tell them I'm sorry," Lupin said as the woman caught the Portkey. In the next moment, she disappeared.
"Lupin, watch out!" Dumbledore yelled again. "Thorax!"
But his attempt to protect Lupin failed: the Unforgivable hit Lupin in his chest. Shriek.
"Crucio!"
"Crucio!"
"Crucio!"
"Crucio!" the numberless, identical yells seemed like a madman's song with a twisted rhythm.
Lupin wasn't able to stand up any more. He was rolling on the ground shrieking aloud.
"Crucio!" Avery yelled.
"Crucio!" Draco Malfoy yelled.
"Crucio!" Macnair yelled.
Harry sobbed together with the screaming and weeping werewolf, his friend.
"Remus, Remus, come home," he couldn't say anything else, but then, under the attack's power, Dumbledore suddenly fell onto his knees.
"NOOOOOOOOO!" Harry couldn't believe it. Dumbledore couldn't die. He was the greatest wizard of the century. He was his mentor, his anchor in the war, his captain...
"Crucio!" Voldemort yelled, and the old man doubled over in pain.
"Crucio!" Malfoy yelled and Remus wasn't able to shriek any more at the horrible torment.
"Crucio!"
"Crucio!"
"Crucio!"
"Crucio!" nothing else, just this one word ten times, hundred times, thousand times – and first shrieks, later moans and rolling. Then silence.
"And now, look, old man, as your last companion goes before you," Voldemort said and stepped toward Lupin. "Ennervate."
Lupin opened his eyes, but he couldn't move.
"Look, old man, at what will be the doom of your pitiful organisation." He grabbed Lupin's hair and lifted him so that Dumbledore could see his ex-colleague.
"No problem, Albus. It was a good fight," Lupin said and Harry could see the tears on the old, tormented face. Suddenly, Voldemort lifted Lupin's face pressing his wand under the man's chin.
"Bye, bye, little werewolf. Avada Kedavra."
"REMUS!" Harry screamed in strong physical and emotional pain and watched as the man's corpse dropped unceremoniously onto the ground. "Remus, Remus..."
"This is the end, old man."
"You can't win, Tom," Dumbledore croaked quietly and didn't even shudder, when his enemy's wand pressed against his forehead.
"Avada Kedavra."
Harry felt as if he had hit the ground after a dive from the Astronomy Tower. His chest and head exploded in unbearable pain and he was falling into the darkness...
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"Harry?"
"Sirius?" Harry's fogged mind somehow recognised his godfather's voice. "Water..."
Cool glass touched his lips and he opened his mouth. One draught, another... enough.
"Thanks."
"You're welcome."
Simple words.
"Remus is dead," Harry said.
"I know."
"The Headmaster too," he added weakly.
"We found them not long after the attack."
"They were outnumbered."
"Armena told me."
"Lupin told the Headmaster that that was a good fight."
Silence.
"And the Headmaster told Voldemort he couldn't win."
Soft trembling from the bedside.
"I don't believe him, Sirius."
The fog returned.
A door creaked. Hurried footsteps.
"Is he all right, Black?"
"No."
"What happened?"
"He saw everything. He had a vision."
Someone tottered to the bed. The mattress twitched as somebody lowered himself onto it.
Weeping. Harry could hear through the cotton-like fog the noises of two soft cries. Then somebody lifted him into a strong embrace, and he felt the hot tears in his hair, the trembling of a chest.
Later, some hours or days ago, the fog slowly disappeared. He felt a warm body lying next to him.
"Severus?" he asked.
"I'm Anne," a thin voice answered and two, little arms embraced him. "We are here with you."
Next time it was Hermione, later Sirius again.
And he was transported to another place as the previous became too noisy, but he could hear the noisy filtered through the walls: a lot of people coming and going.
"Very, very traumatic physical and emotional shock," he heard once in the Head Healer's tired voice. "I don't know if he will ever be the same. After that summer, and later those other events... And now, this..."
Another embrace, and Hermione's soft plea, "Quiet, Quiet, please, wake up..." but he couldn't, he just couldn't. He knew that he was given Dreamless Sleep Potion from time to time: he could recognise the taste.
"You will poison him!" Severus was arguing with Madam Pomfrey, but the nurse cooled the irate Potions Master.
"I have to give it to him, Severus. We can't allow him to see another vision. It could kill him."
"The potion will kill him as well. Don't give him any more."
"We need time, Severus. Please, understand me."
Later, he was transported again. That day he felt he could open his eyes.
He was in the Infirmary. Perhaps, he should really move in, as Madam Pomfrey offered some weeks ago.
"Harry?"
Hermione was sitting next to his bed.
"Can you give me some water?"
He drank. He felt the mere water better than anything he had ever drunk.
"How long?" he asked. He didn't have to add any more, Hermione understood his question.
"Eight days."
Harry nodded.
"The traitor is a member of the Order," he said suddenly. "The traitor killed the Headmaster and Remus. Not Voldemort. Do you know who was that?"
"No," Hermione answered. "Nobody knows."
Silence.
"Where is Sirius?"
"In professor Noir's quarters with Anne."
"Who brought me here?"
"Fletcher," but now, Hermione decided to elaborate the answer. "The Portkey Remus gave to her, portkeyed professor Noir to our house. It was Lupin's, a special Portkey for secret keepers. We arrived in the living room in the same time as she did. You were rolling there and screaming like a madman. We tried to shake you out of your vision, but we couldn't. The healer said that it was because you didn't want to leave them alone there."
Harry nodded.
"I wanted to help them," he said hoarsely.
"Some minutes later Fletcher arrived. He had tried to contact with the Headmaster through the fire, but the fireplace was closed. Then he decided to check on us. We were a complete mess. You were screaming and bleeding in Sirius's arms, who tried to hold you down not to hurt yourself any more, I was holding Anne, who was shocked, professor Noir was just trembling and unable to utter a word... The Death Eaters tortured them at least for forty minutes – at least it took forty minutes for you to black out. I'm happy you regained consciousness. We were frightened that the prolonged Cruciatus drove you mad."
"What was that big noise some days ago?"
"The Headmaster's and Remus's funeral."
Harry suddenly closed his eyes begging for the fog to return.
But it didn't return. The life must go on.
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