Disclaimer
Everything, every location, every character belongs to JK Rowling, Bloomsbury Pub., Warner Brothers or whoever might currently hold the rights of Harry Potter. I swear, I don't make money out of this. Wish I would.
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A/N: This is the first of three scenes that kept crossing my mind. This trilogy is set in the future, after the war with Voldemort. It is only remotely related to my stories 'East of Eden' and 'Unfamiliar Roads'.
This might be a bit depressing, consider yourself warned.
Fortuna's Bitter Smile
by Clio
Beta-read by Darkwing
Repost! The original titel was Peace on Earth. I have always hated
the title, plus I made some minor changes.
Part 1-London
Harry could not sleep. He had tried for hours now; staring with open
eyes to the ceiling, counting sheep, keeping his eyes closed firm. Nothing
had helped. He couldn't stop his mind from racing.
With a sigh he gave up and opened his eyes once again. He allowed them
to wander around in the hospital room. They traveled
to the empty bed, whose occupant had died at dusk. In another bed,
opposite of his own, lay a boy he knew from Hogwarts. Malcolm Baddock,
he thought was his name. He was in a deep coma, and Harry was sure he wouldn't
survive the next day. The fourth bed in the room was occupied by an elderly
man, who was sleeping soundly. Harry envied him.
A movement of the curtains in a breeze caught his eye. The doors to
a little balcony on the end of the room were open, and on
the balcony Harry could see a man standing in the bright moonlight.
His tall figure leaned against the wrought-iron balustrade, he
was looking over the panorama of nightly London, slowly smoking a cigarette.
Harry watched the man for a while, who was standing there upright and
unmoving, lighting and slowly smoking a second and a
third cigarette. When he finally threw away the last stub and turned
towards the window, Harry saw his suspicion confirmed. It was Professor
Snape, wearing the same white robe with 'St Mungo's' printed on it as Harry
was. It was a strong
contrast to his usual black robes. Silently he closed the balcony doors
and made his way through the room, supporting his ginger and unsteady steps
with crutches.
Harry closed his eyes and pretended to sleep. He could hear the soft
clank of the crutches coming closer and stopping at the
foot of his bed. It was a while until the sound started again. Harry
opened his eyes and looked at the retreating form of Snape.
He didn't know why he gave up his pretense, maybe he needed company
in a night like this, even if it were the company of his
potion master. " Err, ... Professor?"
Snape turned. " I thought you were asleep, Potter. Do you believe these
childish games are appropriate when someone comes
to check on you?"
Harry was glad the twilight in the room masked his blush. Childish games
indeed. He was no more a child. Even less after the
events of the last 48 hours. "I couldn't sleep, Sir."
Snape nodded. "Me neither."
It was the most personal statement Snape had ever made in his presence. For some reason it encouraged Harry to continue. "Tomorrow they are going to have a specialist examine me, you know. And I'm scared."
Upon this confession Snape looked at Harry searchingly for a while, then he waved his hand at a chair at Harry's bedside. "Mind if I sit down?"
" No."
Snape walked haltingly towards the chair. With a painful grimace he sank into it.
"How are your injuries?" Harry asked.
"The Medwizards did a good job," Snape replied curtly. It was obvious that he didn't want to talk about it.
Harry saw that he was still holding the lighter in his hand. " I saw you smoking on the balcony. Can you see the Ministry of Magic from out there?"
Snape sighed. " A nasty muggle habit, yes. You can run off and tell your little friends about it, if you want to."
Harry was slightly offended by the snide remark, but he also couldn't
help but notice that Snape had ignored his question. He
decided not to be put off so easily. " The Ministry, that's where Dumbledore
is now, right?"
Snape followed his look to the window. "Yes, the Headmaster is laid out in state in there. You can see the roof of the west-wing when you are standing on the balcony." After a moment of silence Snape added in a low voice: "Great man, Dumbledore. So many great wizards and witches have died in the battles."
Images of people he had witnessed dying flashed through Harry's head.
Dumbledore, Sirius, George Weasley and his father
Arthur, Professor Sprout, even Draco Malfoy and Pansy Parkinson.
Softly Snape continued. "The funeral ceremony will be held here in London
the day after tomorrow. It would have been in
Hogwarts, but the castle is damaged so badly, the Great Hall can't
be used. Albus will be buried on the grounds later. It will be a private
ceremony, just like he wanted it to be." Snape fell silent. Deep in thought
he added after a while: "All Headmasters of Hogwarts have their graves
on the grounds."
After a minute Harry spoke up. "I will not be able to attend the funeral.
I will be in Paris to see that specialist for, well, magical
injuries of this kind. They will send me there at dawn-break. The doctors
here say that my loss of magical abilities might only be
temporary. The magic might come back to me. Do you think... they will
be able to...to restore it?"
Snape turned his head to look at him. In the pale moonlight filtering through the curtains Harry could see the fresh scar in Snape's face. From the left eye-socket it was running all the way down to the jaw line. Snape noticed his look and brushed his fingers gingerly over the scar. "Doesn't make me prettier, does it? I should have known that Dementors carry swords into a battle." He grinned humorlessly.
" Please Sir, you have always been honest to me, no matter how much
it hurts me. Do you think my magic will return?
Do you think I am still a wizard?" Harry noted that his voice sounded
more desperate than he intended it to do.
Snape turned very serious. "Well, Harry, a temporary loss of magic is
possible." He paused to run a hand through his greasy hair. Then he continued
in the same scholarly tone he used in his classes. "It is rare, but it
has happened to wizards before. It sometimes occurs when people are very
ill. It's an protection mechanism of the body to prevent an additional
loss of
energy through casting spells."
Harry noted that Snape was not calling him Potter for the first time ever. He shook his head. "But I'm not ill. I feel fine!"
"When did you first notice that you couldn't cast spells anymore?" Snape asked with scientific interest.
"Right after... , well, afterwards, when some Death Eaters were attacking me and Sirius. I was no help to Sirius," Harry said sadly, trying to fight down the image of Sirius desperately defending himself against three Death Eaters at once.
"So we can safely assume that you lost your magic when killing Voldemort?" Snape looked searchingly at Harry, who nodded.
Some moments in silence passed before Snape spoke up next. "I'm not an expert in this field, but it looks like your magic abilities were somehow destroyed along with Voldemort. I'm afraid to say so, but I fear your magic is gone forever, just like Voldemort himself. I could be wrong, though."
Harry closed his eyes. His magic gone forever. What if he were really not a wizard anymore? What if he really had turned into the Muggle he had thought he were for his first eleven years? Would he still be able to attend Hogwarts? Think of a happy memory, he commanded himself, just as being faced with a Dementor. Think of Hogwarts.
"Err, Hogwarts, will it be rebuild?" He asked Snape who looked at him with apprehension.
"Of course it will. There are heavy damages at the castle from the attack,
but it is not totally destroyed. It will take some time to
repair the building as well as to reconstruct the many protection spells
around it. I'm positive that we can resume classes after
Christmas." Snape looked at the unconscious boy in the bed on the opposite
wall. " Malcolm Baddock. He is one of my students from Slytherin. There
will be many empty seats in the Great Hall."
"Who will be the new Headmaster?"
Harry received no answer. Snape was still looking pensively at the injured Slytherin boy.
"Is there already a decision made about the new Headmaster or Headmistress?
Who will it be?" Harry turned towards Snape
to see, if he heard him at all.
As if a heavy burden was weighting his shoulders down, Snape sat slightly bend forward, his lips pressed into a tight white line. He clenched and unclenched his hands in his lap. The movement made something small at his hands sparkle in the sparse moonlight.
Harry looked closer at the glittering object, that had caught his attention.
It was a signet-ring. He was absolutely sure he had
never seen Snape, unlike Dumbledore or Fudge, wear any jewelry. The
ring seemed to be made from solid gold. On a little
plate some ornaments were engraved.
Harry squeezed his eyes to see it properly. The ring held the small pictures of a badger, a raven, a snake and a lion, all combined in a crest with a big H in the center.
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A/N: I appreciate any comments. Thank you for reading.