A/N: Part Four is here! Yea! The author's note is at the beginning because there's a bit of a surprise at the end, and I don't want to ruin it for you. Intrigued? Read on, and please review.
Note: Would you guys go and read my original novel, Nonagon? It's only the first chapter/prologue and is really short. I really need feedback, so would you read and review? And I posted two poems, trying to see how you guys like my nuts poetry. Read those too, por favor.
Disclaimer: Harry Potter and co. belong to J.K. Rowling. Everyone else belongs to me. (What? I'm lazy today.)
And now, on to the fic.
"I need to know if you were real
'Cause I've been known to get it wrong
When the memory comes
I'll say I'm always in the dark
You got me now…
I can't remember how it went
You looked like everything I wanted
And you came along
Slowly everything began to change
I got you now."
-Vertical Horizon, "Give You Back"
Harry knocked on the door of apartment 345, a small yet impressive ministry apartment building. The flats were very clean, very contemporary, and only for ministry members. Even the halls were impressive; they had benches and carpet and reminded Harry of hotel rooms. Morgan had loved hotels, he thought with a smile. Hotels and cinemas.
A grumpy looking Ron answered. "Hey, Harry," he said. "What is it?"
"I need to talk to you and Hermione," Harry said. "Is she here? This is her apartment."
Ron nodded. "She's here, in the shower. I just got here about ten minutes ago." He smiled. "Hey, Jamie."
Jamie giggled and waved hello. "Can I come in?" Harry asked impatiently.
Ron smacked his forehead. "Of course. I don't know where my head is today. Come in, sit down." He lead Harry into the living room, where Harry sat on the couch. "Do you want any coffee?"
Harry shook his head. "I'm fine, thanks." He looked down at the sleeping child in his arms. "Do you still have that crib you used for Jamie when you took care of him?"
Ron nodded. "Do you want me to take him?"
"Yes, he's so sleepy. Aren't you?" Harry asked Jamie. The baby nodded and shut his eyes.
"Here, I'll take him," Ron offered, taking Jamie from Harry's arms. "The crib's in the first bedroom, so we can hear him if he cries." Ron turned and left the room.
Harry watched him leave. He couldn't remember this amount of politeness between the two since their fourth year when Harry's name had been put into the Goblet of Fire. Usually the two best friends were on good terms. Ginny's death must have really upset him. Hermione's been more of a friend to me lately than Ron has, Harry thought. Although, even she had been in a rush to leave the two nights before. She had seemed so edgy; what had he done? He had just given her a hug. Do hugs make her nervous? What was wrong with her?
Ron re-entered the room, with Hermione by his side. Her eyes widened at the site of Harry, with fear? Anger? Anxiety? Harry had always had a hard time of reading his female best friend's expressions. "Hello, Harry," she squeaked.
"Hey Herm," he greeted her.
She smiled and sat in a chair facing him, running her fingers nervously along the arm. "Are you ok?" Ron asked.
"I'm fine, fine," she answered, her voice tight and unnatural.
"You sure?" Harry inquired.
"Uh, huh."
"Sweetheart," Ron said softly. "Tell me, what's wrong?
"Nothing!" she shouted. "Nothing's wrong!" Nothing except the fact that we have a murderer in our flat, she thought.
"Whatever," Ron grumbled. "So, what is it Harry?"
"How are you doing?" Harry asked Ron, changing the subject.
Ron shook his head. "Not well. I'm so mad. I'm so mad at the person who killed Ginny, I, I could probably kill someone."
"I wouldn't suggest doing that," Harry commented.
"I wasn't planning on it," Ron said.
"Good to hear."
"Anyway," Ron said. "What are you doing here?"
Harry grinned. "Can't I just come to visit two old friends? Why must I have a motive?"
Ron laughed. "I'm sorry, I-"
Hermione cut him off. "Why have you come here, Harry?" She paused and stared at him, her eyes now hosting unmistakable anger. "To kill us?"
"Hermione," Ron started. "What the hell are you talking about?"
"He's a death eater!" she cried, pointing a finger at him. "He has a dark mark on his shoulder."
"Hermione," Ron groaned, rolling his eyes.
She rose from her chair. "It's true! He's a spy for Voldemort! He's the one who killed Ginny, and Morgan too! He's going to kill you and me and Jamie!"
"Ginny?" Ron squeaked. "Harry?"
"I don't know what she's talking about."
"Harry!" Hermione screamed. "Admit it! You're one of them!"
Harry sighed. "I won't deny that I am a death eater. Okay? You happy?"
"You jackass!" Ron scowled. "You killed Ginny, you bastard!"
"I didn't!" Harry screamed.
"Don't deny it!" Hermione yelled.
"I didn't kill Ginny!" Harry explained. "That was Lucius Malfoy. But I won't deny that I was the one to kill Morgan."
"You murdered Morgan?" Hermione asked, in disbelief. "She was your girlfriend."
Harry nodded. "She was in the way."
"Are you going to kill us?" Ron asked, his voice shaking.
Hermione ran towards the front door. Harry ran after her, catching her before she reached the door. "Don't touch me!" she cried.
"Hermione," he whispered. She was trembling. "Don't worry. I'm not going to hurt you. I couldn't do that." He ran a finger down her cheek. "Hermione, you don't understand."
"Understand what?"
"The reason I came here today was to admit to all this. To tell you the truth."
"Why?"
A tear fell down his cheek. "I want out. I don't want this anymore." The tears came harder. "I want to be normal, I want to feel alive again."
Ron came up from behind him and gently tore him apart from Hermione. "Sit down," he ordered. "Now, talk."
Harry shook his head. "I don't want to be a f****** death eater anymore. I hate my goddamn life; I hate him. I hate Voldemort."
Hermione sat next to him. "Why did you start this in the first place?"
"I felt so alone, and depressed. He fed me lies, what I wanted to hear, that I wasn't alone as I thought, that I could use my hate. I bought every word of that bullshit."
"You felt alone?" Ron asked kindly. "Why? We were always here for you."
"You had each other. I didn't have anyone."
"What about Morgan?"
"I was long gone by the time I meet Morgan. One of the things he told me that love didn't exist. I spent most of my time trying not to fall for Morgan, but I did anyway. But I still clung to the idea that there was no love. It was so much easier, less painful that way. It explained my parents, the Dursleys, everything." Harry looked at the floor. "I did love Morgan."
"I'm sorry," Hermione whispered.
"He told me to kill Jamie," Harry stated lamely.
Ron's jaw dropped. "You aren't, are you?"
Harry glared at him. "Of course not. I love Jamie too. I came here to ask you what to do."
"We have no clue," Ron stated.
"All we can say is that we'll be with you, whatever you do," Hermione said, taking Harry's hand in her own. "We'll support you, as long as-"
"I don't go back."
She nodded. "I just couldn't live-"
"I understand." Harry stated.
"Harry," Ron said softly. "Herm's right. We'll help you with anything. But I really don't know what to do. We're talking about You-Know-Who here. He can't really die, now can he?"
"He's not alive," Harry commented. "Things that are not alive cannot die."
"Dumbledore is in charge of the aurors. Go talk to him; he'll know what to do," Hermione explained.
Harry shook his head. "Uh, uh. No way. There is no way in hell I'm going to talk to Dumbledore."
"Why not?"
"He'll hate me!" Harry cried. "Dumbledore, god, he has put so much trust in me through my entire life, to know I've done this; it's like absolute betrayal."
"That's pretty much what you've done, and you need to confess to it."
"He's been like a grandfather to me, and look what I've done with it."
"Harry," Hermione began. "If anyone will ever trust you again, it's going to be Dumbledore. If anyone is going to believe that you really have come back to our side, it's Dumbledore. Now you have to put a bit of trust in him before he trusts you."
"Do you trust me?" Harry asked.
Ron and Hermione exchanged a look. "Yes," Ron slowly stated.
"We do."
"Why?"
"Because you're our best friend," Ron said.
"Because we know that if you ever broke our trust that you would suffer."
Harry nodded. "You'd haunt me, like Morgan haunts me."
"What?"
"She's always here. I see her in everything I do; I see her in Jamie; I see her in memories. I can't get her out of my mind. I wish she'd just go away."
Hermione smiled. "Harry, that's your own guilt talking. Morgan's most likely not haunting you."
"I can't go to Dumbledore," Harry groaned.
"You have to!" Ron shouted. "Or Jamie will die. It's your choice."
"Would you rather admit to what you did, or live with another killing of someone you love?" asked Hermione.
Harry gazed at his feet. "Admit it."
Ron and Hermione nodded. "Then do it. You don't have much time."
"I know, I know." He gave a small smile. "Can I have some breakfast first?"
***
Harry sat in his small townhouse, sorting through papers as Jamie took his nap upstairs. He sat down at the kitchen table, cleaning out the mess of piled bills, notes, and letters. Although it was a boring task, it suddenly seemed a lot more inviting than traveling to Hogwarts to inform Dumbledore of his traitorous acts. He almost wished that he had kept Jamie downstairs; he needed the company.
He looked around the kitchen, smiling to himself. The light blue walls, the white cabinets, the natural wood colored table. Morgan had hated the kitchen. 'It's so ugly!' she had cried. 'When we get married, I'm going to fix up our kitchen, ok?' He had laughed and kissed her and told her to do whatever she wanted. He put his hand on the table. Morgan and I once made love on this table, he remembered. We lit candles and sipped champagne. He recalled her hair, the chocolate curls, that he twirled around his fingers and let bounce back into place.
He brought his attention back to the papers in front of him. Bill, bill, ugh, bill. What was this? It was a small piece of paper, for Morgan, signed by a Dr. Roberts. Dr. Roberts? Harry had heard of him; he was a wizarding doctor who specialized in muggle medicine. What would Morgan want muggle medicine for? She was a pure-blood; she wouldn't have even known about such things. He looked at the paper. A prescription? He tried to read the doctor's messy scrawl. Yes, it was a prescription. For Prozac, 50mg. What was that? Harry almost gasped in realization. Prozac was an anti-depressant. Morgan was clinically depressed? He would have never known. Fifty milligrams; a lot of medicine for such a little person. Prozac? Morgan? Harry's head buzzed, but at the same time, in a weird way, it made sense.
He rose from the table and walked upstairs to his bedroom. He pulled out a drawer from his bedside table, rummaging through it. Then he found what he was looking for: Morgan's journal. Not her research one, but her personal one for her life. He gazed at the last entry, dated a year and three months ago.
August 5, 2007
I just found out that I'm pregnant today. I told Harry; he doesn't seem to be too happy about it. I love him dearly, but I do hope he comes around. I think he'll make a great father, if he just lets go. Something's been bothering him lately, but I haven't the slightest of what it is. He's pressuring me to get an abortion, but I don't want to. It's not that I'm not pro-choice, I just want this baby. Mine and Harry's. Our child. Can you believe it? Our child. I wish Harry would just get as excited as I am. I think I feel a kick, but I might just be imagining it. He hasn't brought up marriage yet, but I think he will. I wish I knew what's wrong with him; he's been so tense and edgy lately. He's not willing to talk to me lately. I tell him everything about work and my friends, but he just nods and stays silent. He won't tell me what's bothering him. I should investigate on my own.
I went to Dr. Roberts' office today. He told me I can't stay on my medication during my pregnancy, which I hate. I already feel down. I want to tell Harry about this, but he couldn't understand. He doesn't have this problem, lucky him. I told him to hide all the knives and scissors for the next eight months, but he just looked at me funny. I don't know if he did it, and I don't want to check. Another thing that is bothering me about Harry is that he never cries anymore. When we were first becoming a couple he used to cry a lot, over his parents and such. Now he doesn't at all. He's hard, cold. Maybe I should recommend him to go to Dr. Roberts', at least for therapy. Maybe he'd start to feel better.
Ok, I know that was a kick. You're a feisty fellow, aren't you? I wonder if you're a boy or a girl. If you're a girl, we'll name you after my mother, Anastasia. Anastasia Lillian Potter, isn't that pretty? Or, if you're a boy, James Gregory Potter, after Harry's dad and my dad for the middle name. Do you like that? I guess I'm nuts thinking that you're going to actually answer me.
I had a nightmare last night, about the day my parents were killed. They were both aurors, and we had just moved here from Australia about six months earlier. I felt ill that night, so I stayed home. I was only sixteen. I wasn't there, but I can still hear my parents' and twelve year old brother's screams as Voldemort attacked them on the street walking from the movie theater to home. He killed a few muggles too, innocent muggles. I guess that's why I do what I do; to protect the innocent. It's all I think I can live for anymore.
Work is frustrating me. I'm so close to creating the counter-curses to the Imperius Curse and Avada Kedavra, but I am having problems with the Cruciatus Curse. It's so horrid and just plain evil. We've been working with rats, but I still hate to perform that curse on them, just for research. It's so horrible cruel. I don't want to think about this anymore. It's making me feel worse than I already do. Think happier thoughts. You know that Hermione and Ron haven't settled on a date yet? They've been dating for nine years now, four of them spent engaged. That makes me wonder, when is Harry going to ask me? I certainly want to marry him, but I think he's never going to pop the question? (Also, who made up that phrase? I hate it!) Do you think it's that out of the ordinary to have a white and yellow color scheme for a wedding? I'll have to talk to Harry. That is, if he wants to talk.
-Morgan
Harry stared at the entry, his mouth open. Morgan- she had nightmares too. She wanted to marry him. She had LOVED him. He had seen her imperfect side, shattering the delicate picture of her in his mind. She had been perfect, beautiful, brilliant, but now he knew that she had been human. And one of the few people in the world who could begin to understand him. And he killed her. He had whispered the words, those two horrible words, and taken life from Morgan. His stomach felt sick with guilt and horrible grief. Not only had he killed her, he had been her lover. She had loved him. She had wanted to mother Jamie. And he had taken all that away from her.
He walked upstairs to the nursery and picked Jamie out of his crib. Jamie looked at his father inquisitively. "We're going to Hogwarts," he said.
***
Hogwarts didn't look any different than it did when he attended the school. The Whomping Willow was still there, as violent looking as ever. The castle itself had not changed; it looked exactly as it did ten years ago. Harry noticed Hagrid's cabin and decided to say hello to his friend whom he had not spoken to in ten years.
"Hagrid?" Harry called out, knocking on the door. Jamie smiled and reached out to knock on the door too.
A huge man with a long, tangled beard answered the door. "'Ello."
"Hagrid, it's me," Harry greeted. "Harry."
The man's eyes widened with excitement. "It's been ten 'ears, 'Arry."
"I know, I know."
Hagrid looked down at the bundle in Harry's arms. "Is that your son?"
Harry nodded and grinned. "Yes, this is Jamie Potter. Jamie," he said, directing his attention towards the baby. "This is Hagrid."
Jamie giggled and waved. "He looks just like you, 'Arry," Hagrid commented. "Where is his mother?"
"Dead," Harry answered, looking down at the floor. "She died about six months ago."
Hagrid patted Harry on the back. " I'm sorry."
"Her name was Morgan Andrews," Harry continued. "She had curly hair, just like Jamie. See?" He ran a hand through Jamie's curly locks. Harry must have pulled on a tangle, because Jamie started wailing. "I'm sorry," Harry whispered, his eyes watering.
Hagrid took Jamie from Harry and sat Harry down. The baby stopped crying and began to play with Hagrid's beard. "Do you want to see Fang?" Hagrid asked. Jamie nodded and clapped his hands.
"No," Harry insisted, standing up. "I need to go and see Professor Dumbledore. I thought he might like to see Jamie too."
"You'll come back?" Hagrid questioned.
"Yes, I will," Harry promised, taking Jamie from Hagrid. Jamie pouted a bit, but smiled at his father. "Goodbye."
"'Bye 'Arry."
Harry took Jamie and walked across the grounds to the castle, entering through the front door.
The inside of the castle looked the same, except for the people in it. He saw so many children run around, all children he didn't recognize (except he could pick out a fiery headed Weasley out of the crowd.) He didn't know hardly any of them, but he could see himself in all of them. He could see Hermione's bossiness, her brilliance in several of the members of the crowd. He could see Ron's temper or his own long gone bravery in them. He could see it in their eyes. While these children were all different and unique, it was amazing how much you could relate to them, almost as if they were a different version of yourself.
A few girls saw Jamie and walked over to get a better look. Soon Harry was in almost a mob, all holding Jamie and talking to him.
"He's so cute!" a girl with long red hair cried.
"What's his name?" asked a girl who looked vaguely familiar. Harry smirked when he recognized her. She's Cho Chang's daughter, he thought.
"Jamie."
Jamie loved the attention. He cooed and giggled and clapped his hands, making all the girls laugh. He's going to such a heartbreaker when he gets older, Harry thought with a smile.
"Ahem," came a voice from outside the mob. The crowd parted, letting Harry have a full view of the person with the voice. "Potter, how nice to see you again."
"You too, Professor Snape," he answered.
Snape smiled politely. "And what is your business here?"
"I need to speak to Dumbledore."
"Dumbledore is busy."
"It's an emergency."
Snape glared at Harry. "Who might this be?" he asked, pointing to Jamie.
"My son, James," Harry answered proudly.
Snape's eyes widened. "I was not informed that you had a son."
Harry shrugged. "Not my problem. I really need to speak to Dumbledore, so I'm just going to escort myself to his office. All right?"
Snape looked at Harry, then back at Jamie. "He has your eyes, Potter."
"Thank you."
"It wasn't a compliment."
"Snape, just let me go."
Snape made an elaborate movement to get out of the way. "As you wish, Potter and Potter, jr."
"Go to hell," Harry grumbled as he made his way down the hallway to Dumbledore's office. "Lemon drop," he muttered. The door swung open and Harry walked down to the room.
It was as he remembered it, Fawkes in his cage and the sorting hat on its stool. "Professor?" he called out.
"Oh, Harry, hello," said the old man. He walked through the door behind Harry, startling him. "It's been a long time.
"Yes, it has."
Dumbledore sat down in his chair. "Is that Jamie?
"Yes."
"He's a very sweet child."
"Thank you."
Dumbledore smiled. "Now, Harry, what is the reason for your visit? You must admit, it is odd to see an old student after not communicating with him for ten years."
"Hermione told me to come," Harry admitted.
"Miss Granger is a very wise woman; obviously you find her advice valuable. Now, why did she inform you to speak with me?"
Harry sat down in a chair facing Dumbledore. "This is hard. I don't know exactly how to tell you this, but-"
"You've been a spy for Voldemort for five years and have killed several innocent people?"
Harry opened his mouth. "How, how…"
"I have my ways, Harry."
"Oh. How long have you known?"
"Years."
"Why haven't you said anything?"
Dumbledore sighed. "Because I have a tendency to give people trust. And because Morgan Andrews has faith in you."
"Morgan?"
"Harry, Morgan knew you were a death eater long before they night you performed Avada Kedavra on her. You lived with her for years; you must have known how intelligent she was."
"I guess I underestimated her."
"I guess you did. Tell me Harry, why did you exactly come here today?"
"He told me to kill Jamie."
"Ah," Dumbledore said. "And you can't."
Harry clutched Jamie to him. "No, he's my son. I love him."
"And you want out."
"Yes."
"Harry, do you know what the price is for treason?"
"Death," Harry whispered, hanging his head.
"Slow and painful death," Dumbledore said. "It used to be a dementor's kiss, but then the dementors went to the dark side."
Harry felt a chill run down his spine. "I deserve that."
Dumbledore chuckled. "Most likely, Harry, but I never trusted someone I didn't believe in. And I trust you."
"Why?"
"Because I once loved you as one loves a son. Because Morgan loves you. Because Jamie loves you."
"What should I do?" Harry asked. "Draco and I want out."
Dumbledore shook his head sadly. "Draco Malfoy is dead, Harry."
"What?" he cried. "I just saw him yesterday!"
"Last night, Draco committed suicide."
"That can't be."
"He wrote a suicide note; would you like to hear it?"
"You have it?"
"A copy of it."
"Read it."
Dumbledore cleared his throat.
I'm sorry. I'm sorry dad, but I couldn't live any longer. Ginny, my love, I'll be joining you shortly, and that fills my heart with joy. Harry- get out while you can. I wouldn't wish this on anyone.
-Draco Malfoy
Dumbledore put the note down.
"Shit," Harry swore, burying his face in his hands. "Draco."
"Could I hold the baby?" Dumbledore asked. Harry wordlessly handed Jamie over to Dumbledore. The baby smiled and clapped his hands. "My, he looks exactly as you did at his age, except that his hair is curly, and he has Morgan's nose."
"That reminds me, how did you know Morgan?" he asked.
"She's an auror, remember. That's how I know her."
"Oh," Harry said softly. "Know her?"
"Know her?"
"But she's dead."
Dumbledore smiled, but didn't answer.
The aroma of cinnamon and pumpkin filled the room. Harry felt the paranoid sensation that someone was watching him, other than Dumbledore. He slowly turned around in his chair.
There stood a short woman, with blue-gray eyes, a bunny nose, and dark brown, curly hair. She smiled. "Hello, Harry."
Note: Would you guys go and read my original novel, Nonagon? It's only the first chapter/prologue and is really short. I really need feedback, so would you read and review? And I posted two poems, trying to see how you guys like my nuts poetry. Read those too, por favor.
Disclaimer: Harry Potter and co. belong to J.K. Rowling. Everyone else belongs to me. (What? I'm lazy today.)
And now, on to the fic.
"I need to know if you were real
'Cause I've been known to get it wrong
When the memory comes
I'll say I'm always in the dark
You got me now…
I can't remember how it went
You looked like everything I wanted
And you came along
Slowly everything began to change
I got you now."
-Vertical Horizon, "Give You Back"
Harry knocked on the door of apartment 345, a small yet impressive ministry apartment building. The flats were very clean, very contemporary, and only for ministry members. Even the halls were impressive; they had benches and carpet and reminded Harry of hotel rooms. Morgan had loved hotels, he thought with a smile. Hotels and cinemas.
A grumpy looking Ron answered. "Hey, Harry," he said. "What is it?"
"I need to talk to you and Hermione," Harry said. "Is she here? This is her apartment."
Ron nodded. "She's here, in the shower. I just got here about ten minutes ago." He smiled. "Hey, Jamie."
Jamie giggled and waved hello. "Can I come in?" Harry asked impatiently.
Ron smacked his forehead. "Of course. I don't know where my head is today. Come in, sit down." He lead Harry into the living room, where Harry sat on the couch. "Do you want any coffee?"
Harry shook his head. "I'm fine, thanks." He looked down at the sleeping child in his arms. "Do you still have that crib you used for Jamie when you took care of him?"
Ron nodded. "Do you want me to take him?"
"Yes, he's so sleepy. Aren't you?" Harry asked Jamie. The baby nodded and shut his eyes.
"Here, I'll take him," Ron offered, taking Jamie from Harry's arms. "The crib's in the first bedroom, so we can hear him if he cries." Ron turned and left the room.
Harry watched him leave. He couldn't remember this amount of politeness between the two since their fourth year when Harry's name had been put into the Goblet of Fire. Usually the two best friends were on good terms. Ginny's death must have really upset him. Hermione's been more of a friend to me lately than Ron has, Harry thought. Although, even she had been in a rush to leave the two nights before. She had seemed so edgy; what had he done? He had just given her a hug. Do hugs make her nervous? What was wrong with her?
Ron re-entered the room, with Hermione by his side. Her eyes widened at the site of Harry, with fear? Anger? Anxiety? Harry had always had a hard time of reading his female best friend's expressions. "Hello, Harry," she squeaked.
"Hey Herm," he greeted her.
She smiled and sat in a chair facing him, running her fingers nervously along the arm. "Are you ok?" Ron asked.
"I'm fine, fine," she answered, her voice tight and unnatural.
"You sure?" Harry inquired.
"Uh, huh."
"Sweetheart," Ron said softly. "Tell me, what's wrong?
"Nothing!" she shouted. "Nothing's wrong!" Nothing except the fact that we have a murderer in our flat, she thought.
"Whatever," Ron grumbled. "So, what is it Harry?"
"How are you doing?" Harry asked Ron, changing the subject.
Ron shook his head. "Not well. I'm so mad. I'm so mad at the person who killed Ginny, I, I could probably kill someone."
"I wouldn't suggest doing that," Harry commented.
"I wasn't planning on it," Ron said.
"Good to hear."
"Anyway," Ron said. "What are you doing here?"
Harry grinned. "Can't I just come to visit two old friends? Why must I have a motive?"
Ron laughed. "I'm sorry, I-"
Hermione cut him off. "Why have you come here, Harry?" She paused and stared at him, her eyes now hosting unmistakable anger. "To kill us?"
"Hermione," Ron started. "What the hell are you talking about?"
"He's a death eater!" she cried, pointing a finger at him. "He has a dark mark on his shoulder."
"Hermione," Ron groaned, rolling his eyes.
She rose from her chair. "It's true! He's a spy for Voldemort! He's the one who killed Ginny, and Morgan too! He's going to kill you and me and Jamie!"
"Ginny?" Ron squeaked. "Harry?"
"I don't know what she's talking about."
"Harry!" Hermione screamed. "Admit it! You're one of them!"
Harry sighed. "I won't deny that I am a death eater. Okay? You happy?"
"You jackass!" Ron scowled. "You killed Ginny, you bastard!"
"I didn't!" Harry screamed.
"Don't deny it!" Hermione yelled.
"I didn't kill Ginny!" Harry explained. "That was Lucius Malfoy. But I won't deny that I was the one to kill Morgan."
"You murdered Morgan?" Hermione asked, in disbelief. "She was your girlfriend."
Harry nodded. "She was in the way."
"Are you going to kill us?" Ron asked, his voice shaking.
Hermione ran towards the front door. Harry ran after her, catching her before she reached the door. "Don't touch me!" she cried.
"Hermione," he whispered. She was trembling. "Don't worry. I'm not going to hurt you. I couldn't do that." He ran a finger down her cheek. "Hermione, you don't understand."
"Understand what?"
"The reason I came here today was to admit to all this. To tell you the truth."
"Why?"
A tear fell down his cheek. "I want out. I don't want this anymore." The tears came harder. "I want to be normal, I want to feel alive again."
Ron came up from behind him and gently tore him apart from Hermione. "Sit down," he ordered. "Now, talk."
Harry shook his head. "I don't want to be a f****** death eater anymore. I hate my goddamn life; I hate him. I hate Voldemort."
Hermione sat next to him. "Why did you start this in the first place?"
"I felt so alone, and depressed. He fed me lies, what I wanted to hear, that I wasn't alone as I thought, that I could use my hate. I bought every word of that bullshit."
"You felt alone?" Ron asked kindly. "Why? We were always here for you."
"You had each other. I didn't have anyone."
"What about Morgan?"
"I was long gone by the time I meet Morgan. One of the things he told me that love didn't exist. I spent most of my time trying not to fall for Morgan, but I did anyway. But I still clung to the idea that there was no love. It was so much easier, less painful that way. It explained my parents, the Dursleys, everything." Harry looked at the floor. "I did love Morgan."
"I'm sorry," Hermione whispered.
"He told me to kill Jamie," Harry stated lamely.
Ron's jaw dropped. "You aren't, are you?"
Harry glared at him. "Of course not. I love Jamie too. I came here to ask you what to do."
"We have no clue," Ron stated.
"All we can say is that we'll be with you, whatever you do," Hermione said, taking Harry's hand in her own. "We'll support you, as long as-"
"I don't go back."
She nodded. "I just couldn't live-"
"I understand." Harry stated.
"Harry," Ron said softly. "Herm's right. We'll help you with anything. But I really don't know what to do. We're talking about You-Know-Who here. He can't really die, now can he?"
"He's not alive," Harry commented. "Things that are not alive cannot die."
"Dumbledore is in charge of the aurors. Go talk to him; he'll know what to do," Hermione explained.
Harry shook his head. "Uh, uh. No way. There is no way in hell I'm going to talk to Dumbledore."
"Why not?"
"He'll hate me!" Harry cried. "Dumbledore, god, he has put so much trust in me through my entire life, to know I've done this; it's like absolute betrayal."
"That's pretty much what you've done, and you need to confess to it."
"He's been like a grandfather to me, and look what I've done with it."
"Harry," Hermione began. "If anyone will ever trust you again, it's going to be Dumbledore. If anyone is going to believe that you really have come back to our side, it's Dumbledore. Now you have to put a bit of trust in him before he trusts you."
"Do you trust me?" Harry asked.
Ron and Hermione exchanged a look. "Yes," Ron slowly stated.
"We do."
"Why?"
"Because you're our best friend," Ron said.
"Because we know that if you ever broke our trust that you would suffer."
Harry nodded. "You'd haunt me, like Morgan haunts me."
"What?"
"She's always here. I see her in everything I do; I see her in Jamie; I see her in memories. I can't get her out of my mind. I wish she'd just go away."
Hermione smiled. "Harry, that's your own guilt talking. Morgan's most likely not haunting you."
"I can't go to Dumbledore," Harry groaned.
"You have to!" Ron shouted. "Or Jamie will die. It's your choice."
"Would you rather admit to what you did, or live with another killing of someone you love?" asked Hermione.
Harry gazed at his feet. "Admit it."
Ron and Hermione nodded. "Then do it. You don't have much time."
"I know, I know." He gave a small smile. "Can I have some breakfast first?"
***
Harry sat in his small townhouse, sorting through papers as Jamie took his nap upstairs. He sat down at the kitchen table, cleaning out the mess of piled bills, notes, and letters. Although it was a boring task, it suddenly seemed a lot more inviting than traveling to Hogwarts to inform Dumbledore of his traitorous acts. He almost wished that he had kept Jamie downstairs; he needed the company.
He looked around the kitchen, smiling to himself. The light blue walls, the white cabinets, the natural wood colored table. Morgan had hated the kitchen. 'It's so ugly!' she had cried. 'When we get married, I'm going to fix up our kitchen, ok?' He had laughed and kissed her and told her to do whatever she wanted. He put his hand on the table. Morgan and I once made love on this table, he remembered. We lit candles and sipped champagne. He recalled her hair, the chocolate curls, that he twirled around his fingers and let bounce back into place.
He brought his attention back to the papers in front of him. Bill, bill, ugh, bill. What was this? It was a small piece of paper, for Morgan, signed by a Dr. Roberts. Dr. Roberts? Harry had heard of him; he was a wizarding doctor who specialized in muggle medicine. What would Morgan want muggle medicine for? She was a pure-blood; she wouldn't have even known about such things. He looked at the paper. A prescription? He tried to read the doctor's messy scrawl. Yes, it was a prescription. For Prozac, 50mg. What was that? Harry almost gasped in realization. Prozac was an anti-depressant. Morgan was clinically depressed? He would have never known. Fifty milligrams; a lot of medicine for such a little person. Prozac? Morgan? Harry's head buzzed, but at the same time, in a weird way, it made sense.
He rose from the table and walked upstairs to his bedroom. He pulled out a drawer from his bedside table, rummaging through it. Then he found what he was looking for: Morgan's journal. Not her research one, but her personal one for her life. He gazed at the last entry, dated a year and three months ago.
August 5, 2007
I just found out that I'm pregnant today. I told Harry; he doesn't seem to be too happy about it. I love him dearly, but I do hope he comes around. I think he'll make a great father, if he just lets go. Something's been bothering him lately, but I haven't the slightest of what it is. He's pressuring me to get an abortion, but I don't want to. It's not that I'm not pro-choice, I just want this baby. Mine and Harry's. Our child. Can you believe it? Our child. I wish Harry would just get as excited as I am. I think I feel a kick, but I might just be imagining it. He hasn't brought up marriage yet, but I think he will. I wish I knew what's wrong with him; he's been so tense and edgy lately. He's not willing to talk to me lately. I tell him everything about work and my friends, but he just nods and stays silent. He won't tell me what's bothering him. I should investigate on my own.
I went to Dr. Roberts' office today. He told me I can't stay on my medication during my pregnancy, which I hate. I already feel down. I want to tell Harry about this, but he couldn't understand. He doesn't have this problem, lucky him. I told him to hide all the knives and scissors for the next eight months, but he just looked at me funny. I don't know if he did it, and I don't want to check. Another thing that is bothering me about Harry is that he never cries anymore. When we were first becoming a couple he used to cry a lot, over his parents and such. Now he doesn't at all. He's hard, cold. Maybe I should recommend him to go to Dr. Roberts', at least for therapy. Maybe he'd start to feel better.
Ok, I know that was a kick. You're a feisty fellow, aren't you? I wonder if you're a boy or a girl. If you're a girl, we'll name you after my mother, Anastasia. Anastasia Lillian Potter, isn't that pretty? Or, if you're a boy, James Gregory Potter, after Harry's dad and my dad for the middle name. Do you like that? I guess I'm nuts thinking that you're going to actually answer me.
I had a nightmare last night, about the day my parents were killed. They were both aurors, and we had just moved here from Australia about six months earlier. I felt ill that night, so I stayed home. I was only sixteen. I wasn't there, but I can still hear my parents' and twelve year old brother's screams as Voldemort attacked them on the street walking from the movie theater to home. He killed a few muggles too, innocent muggles. I guess that's why I do what I do; to protect the innocent. It's all I think I can live for anymore.
Work is frustrating me. I'm so close to creating the counter-curses to the Imperius Curse and Avada Kedavra, but I am having problems with the Cruciatus Curse. It's so horrid and just plain evil. We've been working with rats, but I still hate to perform that curse on them, just for research. It's so horrible cruel. I don't want to think about this anymore. It's making me feel worse than I already do. Think happier thoughts. You know that Hermione and Ron haven't settled on a date yet? They've been dating for nine years now, four of them spent engaged. That makes me wonder, when is Harry going to ask me? I certainly want to marry him, but I think he's never going to pop the question? (Also, who made up that phrase? I hate it!) Do you think it's that out of the ordinary to have a white and yellow color scheme for a wedding? I'll have to talk to Harry. That is, if he wants to talk.
-Morgan
Harry stared at the entry, his mouth open. Morgan- she had nightmares too. She wanted to marry him. She had LOVED him. He had seen her imperfect side, shattering the delicate picture of her in his mind. She had been perfect, beautiful, brilliant, but now he knew that she had been human. And one of the few people in the world who could begin to understand him. And he killed her. He had whispered the words, those two horrible words, and taken life from Morgan. His stomach felt sick with guilt and horrible grief. Not only had he killed her, he had been her lover. She had loved him. She had wanted to mother Jamie. And he had taken all that away from her.
He walked upstairs to the nursery and picked Jamie out of his crib. Jamie looked at his father inquisitively. "We're going to Hogwarts," he said.
***
Hogwarts didn't look any different than it did when he attended the school. The Whomping Willow was still there, as violent looking as ever. The castle itself had not changed; it looked exactly as it did ten years ago. Harry noticed Hagrid's cabin and decided to say hello to his friend whom he had not spoken to in ten years.
"Hagrid?" Harry called out, knocking on the door. Jamie smiled and reached out to knock on the door too.
A huge man with a long, tangled beard answered the door. "'Ello."
"Hagrid, it's me," Harry greeted. "Harry."
The man's eyes widened with excitement. "It's been ten 'ears, 'Arry."
"I know, I know."
Hagrid looked down at the bundle in Harry's arms. "Is that your son?"
Harry nodded and grinned. "Yes, this is Jamie Potter. Jamie," he said, directing his attention towards the baby. "This is Hagrid."
Jamie giggled and waved. "He looks just like you, 'Arry," Hagrid commented. "Where is his mother?"
"Dead," Harry answered, looking down at the floor. "She died about six months ago."
Hagrid patted Harry on the back. " I'm sorry."
"Her name was Morgan Andrews," Harry continued. "She had curly hair, just like Jamie. See?" He ran a hand through Jamie's curly locks. Harry must have pulled on a tangle, because Jamie started wailing. "I'm sorry," Harry whispered, his eyes watering.
Hagrid took Jamie from Harry and sat Harry down. The baby stopped crying and began to play with Hagrid's beard. "Do you want to see Fang?" Hagrid asked. Jamie nodded and clapped his hands.
"No," Harry insisted, standing up. "I need to go and see Professor Dumbledore. I thought he might like to see Jamie too."
"You'll come back?" Hagrid questioned.
"Yes, I will," Harry promised, taking Jamie from Hagrid. Jamie pouted a bit, but smiled at his father. "Goodbye."
"'Bye 'Arry."
Harry took Jamie and walked across the grounds to the castle, entering through the front door.
The inside of the castle looked the same, except for the people in it. He saw so many children run around, all children he didn't recognize (except he could pick out a fiery headed Weasley out of the crowd.) He didn't know hardly any of them, but he could see himself in all of them. He could see Hermione's bossiness, her brilliance in several of the members of the crowd. He could see Ron's temper or his own long gone bravery in them. He could see it in their eyes. While these children were all different and unique, it was amazing how much you could relate to them, almost as if they were a different version of yourself.
A few girls saw Jamie and walked over to get a better look. Soon Harry was in almost a mob, all holding Jamie and talking to him.
"He's so cute!" a girl with long red hair cried.
"What's his name?" asked a girl who looked vaguely familiar. Harry smirked when he recognized her. She's Cho Chang's daughter, he thought.
"Jamie."
Jamie loved the attention. He cooed and giggled and clapped his hands, making all the girls laugh. He's going to such a heartbreaker when he gets older, Harry thought with a smile.
"Ahem," came a voice from outside the mob. The crowd parted, letting Harry have a full view of the person with the voice. "Potter, how nice to see you again."
"You too, Professor Snape," he answered.
Snape smiled politely. "And what is your business here?"
"I need to speak to Dumbledore."
"Dumbledore is busy."
"It's an emergency."
Snape glared at Harry. "Who might this be?" he asked, pointing to Jamie.
"My son, James," Harry answered proudly.
Snape's eyes widened. "I was not informed that you had a son."
Harry shrugged. "Not my problem. I really need to speak to Dumbledore, so I'm just going to escort myself to his office. All right?"
Snape looked at Harry, then back at Jamie. "He has your eyes, Potter."
"Thank you."
"It wasn't a compliment."
"Snape, just let me go."
Snape made an elaborate movement to get out of the way. "As you wish, Potter and Potter, jr."
"Go to hell," Harry grumbled as he made his way down the hallway to Dumbledore's office. "Lemon drop," he muttered. The door swung open and Harry walked down to the room.
It was as he remembered it, Fawkes in his cage and the sorting hat on its stool. "Professor?" he called out.
"Oh, Harry, hello," said the old man. He walked through the door behind Harry, startling him. "It's been a long time.
"Yes, it has."
Dumbledore sat down in his chair. "Is that Jamie?
"Yes."
"He's a very sweet child."
"Thank you."
Dumbledore smiled. "Now, Harry, what is the reason for your visit? You must admit, it is odd to see an old student after not communicating with him for ten years."
"Hermione told me to come," Harry admitted.
"Miss Granger is a very wise woman; obviously you find her advice valuable. Now, why did she inform you to speak with me?"
Harry sat down in a chair facing Dumbledore. "This is hard. I don't know exactly how to tell you this, but-"
"You've been a spy for Voldemort for five years and have killed several innocent people?"
Harry opened his mouth. "How, how…"
"I have my ways, Harry."
"Oh. How long have you known?"
"Years."
"Why haven't you said anything?"
Dumbledore sighed. "Because I have a tendency to give people trust. And because Morgan Andrews has faith in you."
"Morgan?"
"Harry, Morgan knew you were a death eater long before they night you performed Avada Kedavra on her. You lived with her for years; you must have known how intelligent she was."
"I guess I underestimated her."
"I guess you did. Tell me Harry, why did you exactly come here today?"
"He told me to kill Jamie."
"Ah," Dumbledore said. "And you can't."
Harry clutched Jamie to him. "No, he's my son. I love him."
"And you want out."
"Yes."
"Harry, do you know what the price is for treason?"
"Death," Harry whispered, hanging his head.
"Slow and painful death," Dumbledore said. "It used to be a dementor's kiss, but then the dementors went to the dark side."
Harry felt a chill run down his spine. "I deserve that."
Dumbledore chuckled. "Most likely, Harry, but I never trusted someone I didn't believe in. And I trust you."
"Why?"
"Because I once loved you as one loves a son. Because Morgan loves you. Because Jamie loves you."
"What should I do?" Harry asked. "Draco and I want out."
Dumbledore shook his head sadly. "Draco Malfoy is dead, Harry."
"What?" he cried. "I just saw him yesterday!"
"Last night, Draco committed suicide."
"That can't be."
"He wrote a suicide note; would you like to hear it?"
"You have it?"
"A copy of it."
"Read it."
Dumbledore cleared his throat.
I'm sorry. I'm sorry dad, but I couldn't live any longer. Ginny, my love, I'll be joining you shortly, and that fills my heart with joy. Harry- get out while you can. I wouldn't wish this on anyone.
-Draco Malfoy
Dumbledore put the note down.
"Shit," Harry swore, burying his face in his hands. "Draco."
"Could I hold the baby?" Dumbledore asked. Harry wordlessly handed Jamie over to Dumbledore. The baby smiled and clapped his hands. "My, he looks exactly as you did at his age, except that his hair is curly, and he has Morgan's nose."
"That reminds me, how did you know Morgan?" he asked.
"She's an auror, remember. That's how I know her."
"Oh," Harry said softly. "Know her?"
"Know her?"
"But she's dead."
Dumbledore smiled, but didn't answer.
The aroma of cinnamon and pumpkin filled the room. Harry felt the paranoid sensation that someone was watching him, other than Dumbledore. He slowly turned around in his chair.
There stood a short woman, with blue-gray eyes, a bunny nose, and dark brown, curly hair. She smiled. "Hello, Harry."