Hi guys! this is going to be a good one. This chapter has been ready for two weeks and I've been dying to share it with you. But first, according to the rules, I need to get something over with.
Friendly recommendation: Can I recommend something to play in the background as you read? Search youtube for Naruto - Sadness And Sorrow - 1 HOUR. It should fit nicely.
Trigger warning warning: No, that double word is no mistake. It's intentional. I'm going to add a trigger warning beneath this warning. If you don't feel that you need a warning, I implore you to skip the trigger warning and just go ahead and read the chapter. I wouldn't want the surprise to be ruined..
Trigger warning: So this is the actual warning. Are you sure you want to read this? Yes? Alright, here goes. Descriptive attempted suicide coming up near the end of the chapter.
Chapter 20
Harry cursed loudly when he came back to awareness. He found himself in the vicinity of the Potions storeroom for some reason and noticed that his clothes were damp and dirty again. Mucus and grime clung heavily to his sleeves and the hem of his robes was soaked. He hissed when he brushed against the wall and moved his sleeve up to find a large but shallow gash marring his lower arm. It was nothing against the fresh injuries on his back, though.
Now what happened?
Judging by the light pouring in through the windows, daybreak had already come. Coming to the realisation that he had lost an entire night, Harry quickened his pace to head down to the great hall. A quick Tempus cast as he ran revealed that there was still time to make it to breakfast. He didn't exactly look forward to showing up in the state he was in but he just had to know. He needed to see if anyone else had disappeared.
Harry took a few deep breaths to calm himself before going in, trying not to draw any attention to himself. He hurriedly sat down next to his friends who stopped eating and stared at him with equally shocked expressions.
"Harry!" Hermione hissed angrily. "Where were you? When you told us not to stay up we didn't expect you to stay away the entire night!"
Instead of focusing his attention on the bushy brunette, Harry scanned the table for a sign of a disturbance. "I didn't mean to," he said absentmindedly. "I er… lost some time, somehow."
Hmmm, the Gryffindor table seems to be complete.
"Was it something Umbridge did?" Ron asked. "You didn't drink any of her tea or anything, did you?"
"She didn't drug me, Ron," Harry replied, wincing inwardly when he remembered what she had done.
"Your hand looks fine," Hermione noted. "But you look – I'm sorry for saying this – like you rolled around in a swamp or something."
Harry's gaze shifted to the Ravenclaw table. The moods there still seemed sullen but they had been since the disappearance of Lisa Turpin. There didn't seem to be any additional issues bothering them.
"What's wrong?" Ron asked. "You're awfully distracted."
Harry sighed. "I just don't understand what's going on," he said, trying to keep his voice close to a whisper. "I sort of blacked out again."
Harry looked away from the Ravenclaw table in time to see Ron and Hermione exchange a glance. "What?" he asked.
Hermione extended a hand to cover Harry's. "We're just worried about you," she said.
"Yeah, Ron said as much yesterday," Harry huffed, not entirely sure why they felt the need to bring that up again.
Hufflepuff table is acting normally.
"You should go see Madame Pomfrey," Hermione said. "It's never normal for anyone to experience black-outs like that, you know? Something could be wrong."
"That something could be Voldemort," Harry hissed. "I very much doubt that Pomfrey has an ointment to ward him off."
"If it is him, that's all the more reason to get a Professor involved," Ron interjected.
"I'm already getting Occlumency lessons twice a week," Harry pointed out. "I doubt there's much more they can do, you know?"
"You don't know that for sure –"
"Could you just tell me if you see anything off?" Harry asked wearily. "Is someone not here that should be?"
When Harry looked at the high table, he saw that Snape was throwing dark glances at the Slytherin table. Harry frowned and looked over to find Malfoy staring directly at him. The two goons that were normally at this side during meals were nowhere to be found.
Harry swallowed thickly. That didn't have to mean anything. Snape was looking for a pretext to expel them. Maybe that already happened? The Slytherins didn't seem all too worried as a group though Malfoy's unrelenting stare was disconcerting, to say the least.
"Crabbe and Goyle aren't here," Ron pointed out. "And they normally don't miss breakfast."
"Maybe they got punished for what they did," Hermione offered, echoing Harry's earlier thoughts. "It doesn't have to mean anything."
But then why is Snape looking as if someone broke into his private quarters and painted his walls pink?
McGonagall was murmuring something to Snape who nodded in response. Dumbledore seemed to be deep in thought, not digging into his food as he normally would. The other teachers seemed to be oblivious to anything being amiss but the longer Harry observed the Potions Master, the more he started to realise the truth.
Dumbledore verified his suspicion only moments later when he rose from his seat and demanded silence from the students. Harry didn't really listen to his opening words that spoke of regret for disturbing everyone's meal and hopes that everyone would have a wonderful day. But when Dumbledore got to the crux of the matter, Harry gave him his full attention.
"Professor Snape has informed me this morning that Vincent Crabbe and Gregory Goyle have never made it to their dorm room last night," he said gravely. "At first, we suspected them to simply be out past curfew but a sweep of the castle has revealed that they are, unfortunately, nowhere to be found."
Suddenly, Harry's stomach felt as if it was filled with rocks. He clenched a piece of bread so hard that it crumbled onto the table. Hermione squeezed his hand but he was only vaguely aware of it.
"You might wonder why I'm telling you this," Dumbledore continued. "I don't doubt that you would become aware of the issue before the day is over, even without my help. I hope sincerely that you will, from here on out, keep a closer eye on one another. I assure you that my colleagues and I will heighten security as well but keep in mind that we are strongest when we work together. Be mindful of one another and take care of each other. We hope to find the culprit shortly."
Dumbledore didn't end with his usual pleasantries. He just sat back down, looking particularly grave.
This can't be happening!
"Harry," Ron said in a warning tone of voice. "Don't even think it."
"Good riddance, I say," Dean Thomas said, not at all rattled by Dumbledore's speech. "They were always up to no good, anyway."
"Yeah," Collin Creevey said easily. "Who cares about a pair of Slytherins?"
"Their friends and family probably do," Hermione said haughtily. "How can you be so blasé about this?"
"Those idiots should have been thrown out of Hogwarts ages ago," Dean said, shrugging innocently. "The only reason they keep passing their classes is because of Malfoy. And because Snape allows it."
"And so they deserve to disappear?" Hermione countered. Ron kept his mouth shut. It was clear that he was on Dean's side in this argument.
"They're probably off in the forbidden forest or something," Dean said. "Maybe Turpin's disappearance gave them the idea for a prank or something."
"That's awful!" Hermione exclaimed. "They could really be in danger!"
"What may be, may be," Dean replied. He grabbed a banana and started cutting it up in neat slices to put on his bread. Hermione huffed indignantly and crossed her arms. Harry looked back at the Slytherin table. The Slytherins did seem very quiet but, then again, they usually were. It probably had something to do with Snape and his house rules. Malfoy wasn't eating, glancing between Snape and Harry, not even flinching when Harry caught him. Did he think the two were sent to Azkaban after all? Surely, he couldn't be that stupid. Pansy Parkinson seemed ridiculously pleased about something and Harry wondered if Crabbe and Goyle were disliked even in their own house.
He knew one thing for sure, though. He had something to do with this. If only he could figure out what.
When Harry walked into Snape's office, ready for his Occlumency session, he felt extremely out of sorts and worried. The entire day he had been mulling over the idea that he had been attacking students somehow. Were the missing people even still alive? Had he locked them up somewhere?
Maybe I sacrificed them to the centaurs for some reason.
His mood was dark enough to actually give Snape pause.
"What's wrong?" The Potions Master asked. "Surely you're not taking the most recent disappearance too hard?" the man cocked that sardonic eyebrow and Harry couldn't help but glare at him.
"And why wouldn't I?" he asked angrily. "Because they're in Slytherin? Because they attacked me?"
Is he suspecting me?
"Calm yourself, Mr Potter," Snape said easily. "Be assured that the headmaster is doing whatever he can."
Harry scowled and crossed his arms tightly, averting his gaze.
Snape sighed. "You wear your heart on your sleeve, you realise," he pointed out. "I can tell that something is bothering you."
"How is it not bothering you?" Harry snarled. "McGonagall would throw a fit if one of us disappeared overnight."
"Professor McGonagall," Snape corrected. "And therein lies one of the many differences between Slytherin and Gryffindor. I may not make a great show of my concern but I assure you that it is there."
"I bet Malfoy thinks we sent them to Azkaban," Harry said bitterly.
"He did," Snape confirmed. "But I talked him out of that notion."
"It has something to do with my visions, doesn't it?" Harry asked, aware that he was speaking rather chaotically. "Did Dumbledore show you my last one?"
"Professor Dumbledore," Snape corrected. "I can see that you're distressed but I will not allow your disrespect to continue. Address your professors with their proper title or I'll be forced to take points."
Anything for the house cup.
Harry nodded curtly and Snape regarded him for one long moment.
"I saw the dream," Snape finally said. "I am yet unable to truly believe it's a true vision."
Harry stared at him, entirely perplexed. "Why?" he asked.
"For one, the Dark Lord speaks of a spy at Hogwarts that would have been in contact with Wormtail. I have had no such conversations with the traitor."
Harry huffed. "But you would lie to me about it if you thought it was necessary," he said sullenly.
"Be that as it may, I would not bring up the point simply to lie about it," Snape countered. Harry supposed that made sense.
Unless there is a plot behind that as well.
"Perhaps we should forego our Occlumency lesson for –"
"No!" Harry interjected desperately. He needed this. He needed to be able to block Voldemort from his mind. He wanted the visions to stop. And maybe, just maybe, it would help him to figure out what else was going on. Not that he was going to ask Snape's opinion on that any time soon.
Snape looked at him strangely. "No?" he asked. "You are certain?"
Harry nodded. "I'll give earth a go, tonight," he said.
"As you wish," Snape said, motioning for Harry to take a seat on the floor and following suit himself. "Give me a signal when you're good and ready."
Harry knew he wasn't focusing well. He knew in advance that the shifty dome he formed around himself would falter. Even before he had given Snape the signal, cracks were forming in the clay-like material he imagined. But he sat there in the self-imposed darkness and nodded curtly.
It wasn't immediate but after a small, hesitant moment, he felt the appearance of Snape in his mind. He seemed to float near the edge for a while and Harry felt his unwillingness to proceed. But just when he was starting to get annoyed with his Potions Professor, a force exploded near the edge of the wall, causing it to collapse in on itself.
Instead of being plunged atop that dark lake covered in darkness, though, Harry found himself engulfed in streaks of blue that whirled around him at a slow, hypnotic pace. The streaks resembled watery paint as it was smeared onto a canvas. As Harry watched, the lines expanded and swirled as if he was watching an invisible brush in action. New colours were added from a murky green to a very light purple. They all came together to form an artist's representation of a river. A calm, peaceful river.
What's going on?
I want to show you something.
What is… is this you?
It is me. And it is you. Allow me to guide you to a place you've lost.
Harry didn't want to trust the man in his mind. Not completely. But it struck him as ridiculous to mistrust someone you could hear thoughts and feel emotions from. And right now, Snape seemed to be portraying a sense of wistfulness. Of concern. It was disorienting but Harry wanted to do this. Something in his mind urged him gently to proceed. And so he did.
He extended his hand towards the flowy lines of blue and felt himself get sucked in when he touched them. Suddenly it felt as if he was being carried by the stream of a river. But the water felt warm and he could still breathe.
Yes. He could trust this. This was alright.
Harry didn't know for how long they travelled nor how deep they went. It was almost as if he had lost all semblance of time and didn't even care if he would ever resurface. It was nice to be guided by someone like this. Even if that someone was Severus Snape.
And then the waters gently put him down into a room he had never seen before.
Yes you have. You have merely forgotten.
Snape did not appear in any shape or form next to Harry but his presence was still there. Other than the times when Harry was charged with looking for him to be able to cast him out, he was not hiding now. And then, figures appeared in the room, as if they were mist solidifying.
"Come here, little one," a feminine voice said softly. A woman with red hair sat on the ground, extending her arms towards a man holding a toddler. "Come to mummy!"
Harry gasped as he looked into those startlingly green eyes.
"Mum?" he asked. But he knew the answer to that. There was no mistaking the woman he had seen in the pictures Hagrid had given him. The woman from the mirror.
"I think the little tyke wants to stay with his daddy," the man – who had to be James – said teasingly.
"Ah, but I have a secret weapon," Lily said mischievously. She pulled a rattle from her pocket and shook it enticingly. Small Harry stopped squirming in his father's grasp and stared transfixed at the toy with glee in his eyes.
"That's it," Lily urged. "Come here and it's all yours."
James laughed. "Not fair!" he exclaimed but he carefully let go of the toddler, keeping his hands close as the child took a couple of careful steps.
"That's it, Harry," Lily cooed. "You can do it."
Little Harry giggled and toddled even faster towards his mother. James chuckled as he watched him go.
When Harry reached his mom, she swooped him up and held him up in the air, twirling a bit as she did. "Very good job!" she exclaimed happily. "You're growing up to be such a big boy."
Little Harry babbled something incoherently and pointed at James with stern, direct motions.
"Whatever he's telling you, I didn't do it," James said, holding up his hands in surrender.
"So you didn't allow him to eat an entire bowl of chocolate paste?" Lily asked evenly.
James came closer and ruffled Harry's messy hair, muttering 'traitor' under his breath.
Then Lily sat down in a rocking chair, holding Harry close in her arms. Harry grabbed a long strand of her hair but didn't tug at it. Lily caressed Harry's chubby cheek very softly and smiled down at him.
"Isn't he perfect?" Lily said to James. "I don't know what I would do without him."
James kissed Lily on her forehead and sat down in a chair next to her. Harry could feel an odd sense of annoyance in the background but it did nothing to dissipate the happiness and acceptance he felt in that moment.
His parents loved him. They cherished him. They had held him in their arms and competed for his attention. They were a family.
Lily embraced Harry a little closer and started singing softly.
"Lay down your head and I'll sing you a lullaby
Back to the years of loo-li lai-lay
And I'll sing you to sleep and I'll sing you tomorrow
Bless you with love for the road that you go"
Little Harry yawned widely and closed his eyes, snuggling up to his mother.
It was all Harry had ever wanted. All he had ever craved. And here was proof that he had once had it. He had simply forgotten all about it. But he had a father there to catch him when he fell. He had a mother to sing him lullabies. If only he could have had that forever instead of winding up with…
And then the memory cracked. It didn't swirl or evaporate in the way that his others had always done. No. It cracked in half as if Harry was watching a mirror that suddenly broke. The sounds stopped completely and the three people in it didn't move anymore. They now resembled a clear yet broken muggle photograph.
Calm down.
But Harry couldn't calm down. And then everything shattered and Harry was propelled out of the deepest memory that had ever resurfaced in his mind. He felt Snape's presence racing right behind him as if it took everything he had to keep up with Harry. And then they landed in another memory. One that was much fresher. One that had haunted Harry ever since the end of the summer holidays.
Harry flinched when he heard a familiar voice utter the cutting words that had shredded him to the core.
"Do you still think you're innocent?" Petunia asked darkly. "You're not. Without you, your mother and father would still be alive. And to think that she never even wanted you."
An immense sensation of loss overcame Harry as he stared into those hate-filled eyes of his aunt. That's right, he didn't have his parents anymore. And all because some madman was after him.
"You don't know what you're talking about," Harry said desperately in unison with his memory self.
Unbridled rage snuck up in the background and Harry knew it wasn't his.
Petunia scowled at Harry and he wondered how she could be looking straight at him as if he was right there. Again. "The way I see it, that murderer only came for you. If you hadn't been there-"
I don't want to see this. Stop it! Let me out!
Do what you did before. Think of something else. Deny the memory.
Harry tried. He really did but there was no way that he could ignore Petunia's constant jibes. The hurtful comments got rid of every shred of happiness he had felt in that previous memory, only made worse by the knowledge that he would never feel that kind of happiness again. Because his parents were dead!
Dead, dead, dead!
Potter, I can't get you out of there right now. Focus!
Harry fell to his knees, clenching large fistfuls of his hair to try and stop the inevitable intrusion. Petunia kept yelling. Kept insisting on Harry's faults. Vernon threw in a comment every now and then but it was his aunt who really knew how to wound him.
Whereas his mother had sung him lullabies.
Please. Please stop this. I can't do it.
But be it because he couldn't or because he wouldn't, Snape did not break the memory. It played out until the end, when Harry ended up in his bedroom, staring into the darkness.
As soon as that ended, Harry was expelled from his mind. He became aware of his physical body again and realised that his face was stained with tears. For a moment, he was staring at his hands. He had apparently clenched his fists so hard that his nails had drawn blood. But oddly, he didn't care. He felt empty.
Broken.
"Potter." When Harry heard his name, he remembered that Snape was there with him. He lifted his gaze to see the man in front of him. There was clear dismay in his eyes. Hatred. Anger. Because what else could the man possibly feel when he looked at Harry? What else was there?
Harry clenched his jaw to stop himself from saying anything and leapt to his feet. He had run out of the office before Snape was able to lock the door. And Harry was glad for it. He wasn't able to face talking about this.
Not now. Not ever.
He ignored the shouting of his name in the background and ran. He ran as far away as he could from the office – the place of his despair – before his legs threatened to give way. When that happened, he opened the first door he came upon and threw himself into the empty room which was apparently an abandoned classroom.
A few wand incantations had him locking and silencing the door. He didn't want any company. All he wanted was to lock out the world.
He sat there for a while, slouched against the stone wall with his knees drawn up to his chest. The warring emotions within him were almost too much to bear.
You can't miss what you never had.
Harry had always thought that line was stupid. That it made no sense! After all, he really had missed having a family while stuck at the Dursleys. He missed having his parents around the way Dudley had his. He missed them despite not knowing them.
He chuckled bitterly when he realised how true it rang now, though. Knowing what they were like now. Remembering what it had felt like to be in his mother's embrace had instilled in him such a feeling of loss that it weighed heavier on his heart than anything he had ever felt before. It was almost as if he lost them all over again. Only now, he was only too aware of it.
Harry buried his head in his arms as he cried. He hated this. He hated what Snape had seen of him. He hated himself.
What do I even have to live for? Everyone turns away from me in the end.
His tears stopped flowing and he wiped at his cheeks. Numbness washed over him then. The kind of silent reprieve one got when faced with the certainty of their next step. The knowledge that everything would be alright.
And it would be. Soon.
Harry loosened his tie, the Gryffindor colours flashing at him even as he transfigured it into a rope. A large chandelier hung from the ceiling and Harry casually tossed the rope across it before tightening it into a firm noose.
I can be with them again.
Harry grabbed one of the chairs that had been tossed aside Merlin knows how many years ago. He placed the rickety thing underneath the chandelier and climbed on top of it. There was no hesitation. Only clarity as to what he had to do. He hung the noose loosely around his neck and smiled.
He wouldn't bother his relatives anymore. He wouldn't anger Snape and he wouldn't inconvenience Dumbledore. Voldemort would get what he wanted and would maybe stop his fixation on Hogwarts. People would stop disappearing and no one - no one would be able to hurt him again.
He had hurt enough for one lifetime.
He kicked the chair away from underneath him and the rope tightened viciously around his neck as he fell. There was instant panic, even if he had seen this coming. His legs kicked in the air, scrambling for purchase that wasn't there. Reflexively, his hands flew up to the rope but it was too tight to get his fingers underneath. Instead, he scrambled at the cord without much effect, his fingernails chipping on the thick material as he scratched it. The sensation of not being able to breathe hurt and every time he tried to inhale, his throat would protest painfully.
Bright lights sparked into his vision and he was hearing popping sounds that didn't seem to have an origin. He was vaguely aware of saliva dripping from the corner of his mouth but he didn't care.
Eventually, the panic subsided when darkness started to tug at the edge of his vision. He didn't know quite how long he was dangling there, unable to reach the fallen chair but he knew that it wouldn't be long now. Soon, everything would be over. Already, he was starting to feel cold.
Please. I just want this to be over.
Harry didn't fully understand what happened next. Suddenly he fell the short drop to the floor when the rope failed, somehow. He made hard contact with the stones below but didn't fully register that as he barely held on to consciousness. The feeling of pins and needles coursed through his every limb and when he tried to lift a hand, only his index finger would move.
Then, a cool hand loosened the burning rope and removed it in one furious movement. Harry inhaled sharply, against his wishes. Air filled his lungs with such ferocity that it hurt. He couldn't help it after that. He kept breathing. Someone was prodding him. Opening his eyes and shining a light in them. Talking to him.
Harry tried to say something but he couldn't. No, he thought. Leave me be.
Warmth engulfed him. Black cloth smelling of herbs and spices. Ginger and rosemary. Thyme.
I don't want more time.
His head now rested against something solid and he could hear a fast drumming in his ears. A humming of a deep voice. More talking? Harry didn't understand.
He struggled to remain conscious. To try and tell the person to go away and leave him alone. He didn't need saving. It wasn't Voldemort this time. It was him. All him.
Lay down your head –
Something was pressed against Harry's mouth and a cold liquid filled his mouth. That same cool hand against his throat and he was made to swallow. A small voice in the back of his mind wondered what it had been. Another voice pointed out that it might have been poison. Harry thought that it didn't matter if it had been.
And then colour returned to his vision. The darkness he had sought to make permanent was cruelly torn away and he started recognising his surroundings.
Black cloth wrapped in scents of herbs and spices. Warm arms holding him in a fierce embrace. The sound of a rapid heartbeat that wasn't his own. A hand carding through his hair. And the sound of a voice that was speaking reassuringly. Telling him that everything would be alright. Promising him a tomorrow that Harry didn't want. His fists clenched in the robes engulfing him, hiding him away from the world. And he cried. Loudly and without any thought as to what anyone would think if they saw him there, clenching to Snape's robes as if they were his final lifeline. He didn't want to be there but he didn't want to ever leave the embrace either. So he just sat there, accepting the quiet murmurs spoken in his hair and the arms tightening around his shoulders. For as long as he could.
