A/N: This is part one of the two part end to "Regards, Harry." Warning: Angst ahead...proceed with caution...
Note: This chapter would have been published yesterday but a certain someone sent me a link to another long story I somehow missed and I felt compelled to spend my Sunday reading it instead of working on this chapter.
Disclaimer: J. K. Rowling and associates own these characters; the story you have been reading and are about to continue reading is a product of my overactive imagination and is written for fun and decidedly not for profit.
Chapter 43
June 10 – June 11
-Harry-
Tuesday morning saw Harry and Ron once again out before breakfast. This time they ran the path along the side of the lake, the one that meandered above the banks of the loch, furthest from the castle. They ran until they reached the footbridge over the first stream that fed the lake then slowed to a walk and crossed it. They stood together on the low bridge, looking back at the castle.
"What's that?" asked Harry, pointing to a dark shape in the sky that was coming their way, though high overhead, nearly as high as the castle itself.
"Bird," answered Ron, squinting. "Looks like an owl…wait…it's Malfoy's eagle owl."
They gazed at the bird as it soared above them and turned to watch it as it winged away out of sight.
"Awful late to be out hunting," commented Ron carefully.
Harry scoffed. "It's not hunting, Ron. You know that."
"Awful early then to be delivering a letter."
Harry stared back at the castle, his gaze fixed on the owlery. He saw no movement there and figured Malfoy was already gone. But what had brought him to the owlery at 6:30 in the morning? What had been so important that it had to be sent off even before breakfast?
"Are there other eagle owls here?" asked Ron as he broke into a jog and caught up with Harry, who had set off on his own.
"Never seen one," said Harry, panting as he unconsciously picked up speed.
"Neither have I," said Ron, letting Harry run ahead and easing into pace behind him. He had a feeling Harry wasn't going to let this one go.
/
10 June, 1997
Tuesday
Dear Severus:
I understand why you needed to have an evening out, and don't hold it against you that you didn't take the sober-up potion in time to prevent a hangover. This year has been very stressful, and if you're used to drinking every once in a while, I sure haven't made that a possibility for you this year, have I? Not with this bond thing anyway. Ron was able to get me down to the infirmary before I puked my guts out—he thought I had the flu but I suspected what it really was. There's no mistaking that feeling once you've felt it once, you know.
Since you're a potions genius—why don't you invent alcohol that doesn't give you a hangover? Put all that knowledge and experience to good use and help out a good percentage of the wizarding world. If you want to really make some money and retire at the age of 40 to a life of leisure, sell the formula to the Muggle world.
Still, I think Madam Pomfrey sending you a howler is hilarious! Too bad she didn't have it delivered to you while you were in the Great Hall eating dinner, or up in the Defense room teaching class. I suppose hearing her voice screeched out at you while you were hung over was punishment enough, though. Minerva sure was mad at you. She kept muttering things under her breath like "Severus Snape, you'd better be glad I'm a respectable witch or I'd have your balls on a platter." Something like that. I definitely do recall the "respectable witch" part anyway.
I'm not sure about the owl names. The little ones might feel incomplete without Ringo. What would they be, the Wee Three instead of the Fab Four? And giving the girls girlified boy names might make them confused and lead to all sorts of gender identity issues. Why not go with names from famous trios instead? How about Bacon, Lettuce and Tomato? Nina, Pinta and Santa Maria? Hook, Line and Sinker? Ready, Willing and Able? Stop, Look and Listen? (I'm on a roll now, Severus!) Hop, Skip and Jump?
I've got it.
Earth, Wind and Fire.
Those just seem right, somehow.
(But I'd be willing to consider Sex, Drugs and Rock & Roll.)
I don't even know what to say about being made your heir, Severus. I want to say 'You didn't have to do that' but I know you already know that. You didn't have to do it but you wanted to do it anyway. I'm not sure what all responsibilities I have now besides making sure I scatter your ashes over Madam Pomfrey while she's sleeping to get her back for that howler. And you may not have a lot of gold in your Gringott's vault but gold doesn't mean anything to me. My parents left me gold, and Sirius did too, but where are they now? I'd rather have you than all that gold any day, so don't worry about that at all. If it bothers you, I'll go have a talk with that Board of Governors after we kill Voldemort and throw my weight around a bit and negotiate a raise for you, with lots of back pay too. If they hesitate, we'll bring them all out to Hogwarts and get a good game of Truth or Dare going. I'm guessing that they were all students here once—maybe it will remind them of their own exploits.
"Hey, Ebenezer, remember when we broke into Professor Primenproper's quarters and transfigured all her white cotton bloomers into see-through red lace?"
I'd really like to hear about your mum sometime. It sounds like you have good memories of her, and maybe even good memories of your whole family before your dad got sick. It doesn't seem fair, does it, that some people have magic and others don't? And that people with magic live longer and can defy the normal laws of physics when they travel and conjure things 'out of thin air'? When I take time to think about it—to really think about it—I can see why my Aunt Petunia turned on my mum. It is something to be jealous about. And it really doesn't seem fair that one person has it and another doesn't. I mean think about it! A wizard can just drink a potion and grow more bones! Or get sobered up! A Muggle would have to drink a pot of coffee or get slapped in the face or stick his head in a bucket of ice water or something. And even after all of that, he'd still probably be pretty drunk. And grow bones? Are you kidding? It takes six weeks or more for a Muggle's broken bone to heal. If someone somehow lost a bone, the whole arm would have to come off.
This is making my head hurt. I shouldn't try to wrap it around all the unfairness in life. I guess it's no different than some people being born into families with loads of money, or some kid being born into royalty and growing up to be the King of England just because he was born to the right parents and happened to be born a couple years before his little brother. What makes that firstborn son a better King anyway?
Still, I can't imagine life without magic, not now that I'm part of it. But even though I can't imagine it, sometimes I can't help wanting it—wanting a life where I walk to school every day and do my homework with a ballpoint pen on regular paper or use a computer and drink orange juice at breakfast and get my post in the mailbox. I think about that because it would be an anonymous life where I would decide what I wanted to do with my life and head off to university to do whatever that was. It would be a life where horcrux wasn't a real word and Voldemort was just some crazy guy in a horror movie and invisible horses didn't fly and portraits didn't move. It might be a boring life, but it would be a safe life.
Ginny is waiting for me downstairs. We're going to go up to the owlery to see if the eggs have hatched yet. Hagrid says we'll know because most likely, McKenzie will be off hunting. I'll let you know if they're here.
Regards,
Harry
/
There must have been one baby at least, because McKenzie flew in with a dead mouse almost as soon as Harry and Ginny made it to the owlery. He delivered it to Hedwig and was off almost at once. Harry peered at Hedwig, watching as she tore the little creature up into manageable bits but she kept a cautious eye on him and he and Ginny never got a good look at the baby.
He delivered his letter to Severus the next morning during Defense Class and had a rather unremarkable day. He watched Malfoy in every class that they shared. Since seeing the owl take off with a letter so early the day before, Harry had had his mind on Malfoy, and though he didn't dare say anything to Severus in his letter or do anything at all to approach him or even try to find him, he kept him in his mind, knowing the days of the school year were ebbing and he'd have to execute his plan—whatever it was—soon. Perhaps the owl meant he'd already started it in motion. Perhaps.
It was just after dinner when the message was delivered to him—to get to the Headmaster's office as soon as possible. Exchanging a meaningful look with Ron and Hermione, he left at once.
It was as if everything happened at the same time. Before he left the castle with Dumbledore just after sunset, he'd given the half-dose of Felix Felicis to his friends, convinced now that Malfoy had accomplished whatever he had set out to accomplish and that whatever he had planned might go down that very night. His run-in with Professor Trelawney had shown him that—and a few other things. He quietly lodged the other piece of information far back in his brain, the thing so casually mentioned by Trelawney—that it had been Severus Snape, his Severus, his father, his dad, that had been caught listening outside the door when Trelawney met with Dumbledore all those years ago and made the prophecy that had changed his life.
The prophecy that Voldemort only knew about because someone, someone had relayed it to him. Not the entire prophecy, true, but enough to give Voldemort something to go on, a target, a victim.
He stomped it down. His brain knew it didn't matter and was trying desperately to convince his heart. He never lied to me. He never pretended to be perfect. He never hid his past as a Death Eater. He admitted to making terrible mistakes.
He never meant for my mum to die.
He didn't know it was me.
He pushed the thoughts away again, seeking strength from inside, from that place where hope resided, and lifted his head as he and Dumbledore came out of apparition. He smelled the salt air and felt the ocean breeze and heard the pound of the surf and thought, for just a moment, that he was home.
/
Later, when he stood in Hogsmeade with the Headmaster, after somehow, some way, apparating them both back here from that place, that cave, that hell hole, he thought that nothing, nothing, could possibly be any worse than what he had just experienced. He was so glad to be back, to be surrounded by the comfortable familiarity that was Hogsmeade, no matter that the Headmaster was still weak, still leaning heavily on him, sinking to the ground, in fact, unable to walk any longer. Asking for Severus. Severus…I need Severus… Even that need, that name, was familiar and drew out that dampened hope from deep inside Harry.
Until suddenly his head exploded in pain. Severus.
Until Madam Rosmerta appeared. Until she pointed to the sky above the castle. Until she showed them the Dark Mark hovering there.
-Severus-
Severus hated June. The students spent most of the month thinking about end of term and summer break and very little of it thinking of final exams and homework and appropriate classroom behavior. The homework they did manage to turn in was often sloppy and hastily done, finished in a rush between pick-up Quidditch games and lakeside stone-skipping parties. He never did understand why classes didn't end on the first instead of the thirtieth—he'd gladly give up the two half-term breaks for a longer summer.
Severus hated this June in particular. Albus was dying; there was no sense denying it or trying to frame it any other way. The curse was progressing and would soon consume him.
Draco Malfoy was aiming for something bigger than just Albus' death. Severus didn't know yet what that was, but he suspected that Draco was setting something up, something big, something devastating. The boy was desperate. He would stop at nothing.
The weather would not cooperate by turning cold or dreary or rainy or even windy. The skies were a blue that rivaled the color of the deep Scottish loch, dotted with whispy white clouds that hung high overhead. It encouraged the children's spring fever.
Even Harry had fallen to the weather's spell, barely paying attention in class this morning as he gazed out the sole window in the classroom until Severus called on him to duel Granger. Ahhh. That had taken the glassy look out of the boy's eyes. He would want to win that duel but would not want to hurt his friend. It made for a fine ten minutes of entertainment for the entire class until Harry finally disarmed Hermione at the same time she dealt him a successful petrificus totalis. He hit his head on a desk on the way to the floor and she tripped over a book bag as she ran to help him. He sent them both to the infirmary to have Poppy patch them up.
Now he himself, weak old fool that he was, had come outside to one of Hogwarts' many private turret walkways and had settled on the stone floor against an inner wall with Harry's letter in hand. He had watched Albus disappear hours ago, knowing that Harry was beside him, covered by his invisibility cloak. The sun was totally gone, the sky lit by a waxing moon, low on the horizon, not quite full yet. He had spelled fairy lights to hover above him as he sat, and he pulled his robe more tightly around him as he began his letter to Harry, his eyes moving frequently to the castle gates and the road beyond them.
/
11 June, 1997
Wednesday
Dear Harry:
You are gone now, with Albus, and I find myself at odds with myself, out of sorts, unable to let the day end in its normal way. I watched you go—no, I watched him go, for you were unseen beside him, no matter I knew you were there. It has been too long already; you should be back by now, asleep in your dorm. It is a school night—you will need to be up early again tomorrow to start a new day.
I do not like not knowing where you are or what you are doing or what is happening now. Right now. Where was this horcrux hidden? Albus told me only that it was in a cave, on the coast. How was it protected? What did you do to destroy it if indeed you did? How is Albus holding up to the stress of the search? He has been so weak of late, so close to the end. It will not be long now, Harry. You must be prepared.
I am certainly looking forward to the end of the war and my new higher-paying job with better benefits. I shall let you 'throw your weight around' all you want if it means I will work less and earn more. I have many avenues left to pursue in life and would welcome some time away from Hogwarts when this is all over, perhaps a summer, perhaps a term, perhaps two.
I understand your desire to escape the fame and notoriety that has followed you all these years, but you need not escape into Muggle life to find peace. It will come in time, Harry, and you must demand a normal life, and expect to receive it. Magic is not something you can live without. Many wizards have tried, and most find that magic is so engrained in their soul and their spirit that the absence of magic is like the absence of love, or a winter that moves right into summer without the rebirth of Spring.
I want this for you, Harry, my son
/
A noise, a shout and a dazzling green light made him drop both quill and parchment. He jumped to his feet, wand already in hand. His head broke through the fairy lights and they scattered and fell. He stood, transfixed and horrified, one agonizingly slow moment as he watched the Dark Mark take shape, expand and rise. Rise from the Astronomy Tower above and beyond him, rise over Hogwarts Castle, hover, twinkling perversely, above his home. His home…
The Dark Mark on his arm erupted with sudden, intense pain. He kicked his ink bottle as he ran, stepped on the quill, ignored the letter that lay there, words not obscured though forever unread.
I want this for you, Harry, my son…
-Harry-
He summoned Madam Rosmerta's brooms. Moments later they were on them, Harry still obscured by his invisibility cloak, soaring directly toward Hogwarts Castle and the horrid mark hovering above her. He didn't know how Dumbledore could even stay on the broom, weak and unbalanced as he was, but he headed toward the Astronomy Tower with a singular purpose and Harry followed, his gut twisting. His friends. Severus. What had happened at the castle? What had Malfoy done?
The tower was deserted when they landed. Dumbledore clutched at his heart, called for Severus, ordered Harry to fetch him but before he could open the door—for finding Severus was precisely what he wanted as well—to get Severus, to find his father—someone was hurtling up the stairs and he stepped away and was suddenly frozen, immobilized by a spell from the Headmaster, forced to remain frozen like a statue as Malfoy appeared and disarmed the headmaster, as Malfoy's whole sordid confession was made, drawn out word by word by phrase by phrase by the Headmaster, for only Harry to hear. The wandless Headmaster who leaned against the railing of the tower and spoke calmly to the traitor, drawing him out, drawing it out, until so much time had gone by and Malfoy hadn't killed him and Harry could do nothing but look and listen, frozen, incapacitated, alone, terrified.
Crashing footsteps, company on the tower, Death Eaters, arguing, fighting below, screams, no one acting, no one touching Dumbledore, all of them waiting, telling Draco to do it, urging him, taunting him.
Until Severus was there and Dumbledore was pleading and Harry heard the message behind his pleas, Severus…please…, couldn't everyone hear it? It is time, Severus. End it now. Save the boy's life. End it now, Severus. I am dying… Do as you promised… Dumbledore's eyes shifted to Harry for the barest of moments, the briefest of seconds, looking through him to the night sky beyond. But it was not Harry he wanted to save. Harry knew that now. And he knew what was about to happen. And he hated Draco Malfoy, with a hate hot and black and molten, and he hated Dumbledore, and he hated Severus, but still he hated Malfoy more, for making Dumbledore think he was worth saving and making Severus do what he was about to…
"Avada Kedavra!"
No longer frozen but still frozen, Harry watched as the Headmaster fell backward over the battlements, watched as Severus took a moment to search the tower with his eyes, a barely perceptible movement, focusing on the two brooms on the floor before grabbing Draco and running.
The next minutes were a veritable cyclone. Harry wielding his wand, jumping over bodies, petrifying Death Eaters, finding his friends, leaving them behind, running, tripping, always too slow, never fast enough until he was out on the lawn and Severus was in his sights.
"Don't leave!" he shouted, panting, gaining on Severus. Severus turned his head and in the light of the three-quarters moon Harry saw death in his eyes. Severus paused to shoot an impediment curse at him but Harry dodged it, jumping to the side.
Draco had made the gates now, with a handful of Death Eaters, but Severus was facing Harry and Harry was raising his wand, almost in slow motion, a stupefy on his lips when Severus turned the tables on him, uttering an expelliaramus, using his own best spell—so simple and unexpected—on tripped as he lunged for his wand, landing on his face, wandless, soulless, hopeless, pounding his fists on the ground in frustration as Severus slipped through the gate, turned on the spot, and was gone.
-Severus-
By the time Severus ran through the maze-like corridors of the upper levels of the castle, the invasion was nearly complete. Death Eaters engaged in battle with students, with teachers. They were gleeful to see him, proud, cocky even. Greyback was here. Shit. Where was Draco? He could not be too late! Up the stairs—how had the Order gotten here?—around the spirals and onto the tower and…
Two brooms. Dumbledore, fallen, his wand on the floor out of his reach. Draco facing him, the others taunting him to finish the job.
Harry. Where was Harry? His eyes, when they finally rested on Albus fully, betrayed his fear. Albus stared him down, flicked his gaze so briefly toward the side, then pleaded with him.
"Severus…please…" It is time, Severus. End it now. Save the boy's life. End it now, Severus. I am dying… Do as you promised…
He lifted his wand, face passive, bile rising in his throat at the act he was about to commit, an act for which there would never be redemption, not in Harry's eyes, or the eyes of the law, and not in his own eyes, especially not in his own eyes. Harry was here. Harry could be watching. Father, Son and Holy Ghost, the man in white, the greatest wizard that ever lived, defeater of Grindelwald, Order of Merlin First Class, Chief Warlock of the Wizengamot…
Albus looked at Severus again, pleading. The moon caught his damp blue eyes and they appeared to twinkle.
"Avada Kedavra!"
He dropped his eyes as Albus died. He hardly saw him fall. He tried to catch movement that showed that Harry was there, anywhere, saw only a flicker as he grabbed for Draco and ran.
He knew Harry was after him before he reached the second floor.
Idiot child! There were Death Eaters everywhere, ordered to leave him alone, to save the Boy Who Lived for the Dark Lord himself, but you couldn't trust a Death Eater, couldn't trust their bloodlust and insatiable thirst for power.
He made it to the lawn, panting, Draco sprinting ahead as they raced down the hill toward the great gates.
Harry was gaining on him. All that running with Ron had paid off.
"Don't leave!" Harry's voice was desperate, his pace not faltering. There was no longer any calm, no longer any peace. His voice ached of abandonment and fear. He called out "Don't' leave" but Severus heard the unvoiced, unspoken "…me!" It was the plaintive cry of an orphaned child.
He futilely tried an impedimenta. Harry dodged it. As he turned and disarmed his only son, leaving him lying on the ground pounding his fists as he slipped out the gates and disapparated, he never felt less like a father, or more like one.
-Harry-
The fact that he was able to move surprised him. The fact that the crowd around the Headmaster's body parted for him did not. He walked toward Dumbledore's body and knelt beside it, reached out to straighten his crooked half-moon spectacles, covering closed eyes that he thought must be sparkling somewhere, but not here. Not in this place of bitterness and bile. He smoothed the Headmaster's hair back from his crinkled brow, wiped away a trickle of blood from his mouth. He stared at the face, the face that was once upon a time the most beloved face in the world to him, and wept.
Wept for the injustice of it, and the selflessness, and the incomprehensible acts of bravery that had been committed this night, and the losses they all had suffered.
But most of all he wept for his childhood, though he did not understand those tears, for when he struggled to his feet and turned around and the crowd parted to let him through, Harry Potter, the Boy Who Lived, left as a man.
A/N: A number of reviewers have suggested that I write Year Seven. As I have posted on my profile page and earlier in an author's note before a chapter in this story, I will start on a shorter "Year Seven" story after this one finishes. That story will be told from Severus' point of view as he reacts to Harry's horcrux hunt. I hope to have the title pinned down and will give more information at the end of the final chapter of "Regards, Harry," coming later this week. Thanks to all readers and reviewers for sticking with this story!-SS
