Disclaimer: In no way am I getting money from writing this fanfic. I do not own Harry Potter, nor the song. All the characters are owned by JK Rowling and the song by Abandoned Pools. This fanfic is in no way meant to infringe any copyrights, but mainly a way for me to challenge myself as a writer. I have no money, so a law suit really isn't worth it.

This is my first Harry Potter fanfic so please be gentle….

A/N- This is *not* slash! Just because there is a man hugging another does not mean they are sexual involved so please don't even go there. There are no pairings of any kind besides a hint at a Ron/Hermonie relationship. I change one line in the lyrics to work for this story- changing I to you, and so forth, but only in one area.

Also anything in are song lyrics, any words in * * are emphasized. Thank you and enjoy.

The Remedy

By Saya Sato

January 10th 2003



I could use a shot your Novocain

Gods it hurt so bad. His headache was highlighted with the swift onset of his burning scar. Images swirled around his brain, refusing for even a moment to allow him a glimpse. Harry's eyes refused to open, his mind begging him to ignore the screams around him. Pain was thick in the air, one could almost feel it penetrating their souls. Voldermort's laughter sounded in his ears. Oh gods, let it stop. Goodbyes had been said earlier, but Harry had not expected to have fallen this early….He had to go to the Riddle Mansion…It couldn't be Death Eaters….Because he was still living…A deep voice said something and Harry let out a deep rasping moan as he felt his arms grabbed and his body forced upwards.


My soul's a fuse

Harry could barely stand as the figure paced before him, anxiety written all over his face. Fudge. His very being threatened to snap as the Minister of Magic focused his beady eyes on Harry's scar. Harry never found out how he had fallen from his broom to meet the Minister.


Blows away your name

"You have to stop this. The lies are getting to be too much." He rubbed his temple softly. "Not even Dumbledoor can convince us this time. Release the old man from your Imperius and let us live in peace."

He didn't even bother saying Harry's name, resorting to what the Wizarding world saw him as. A tool. A way of ending the evil that was closing its fingers around the world. Harry shook violently, his face burning with anger, his fingers digging into his palms as his hands became tight fists. The very idea of Harry controlling Dumbledoor was mad. In every battle against Voldermort, Harry had shown nothing but loyalty to Dumbledoor, the man who Harry held in the highest esteem. A stone nearby exploded into a rain of sand and small pebbles, leaving a fine layer on the Minister's cloak. He brushed it off, disgusted with Harry's lack of control, but knowing that he hit a nerve he smiled to himself.


Then I can be the remedy

And you can be the enemy
And he can go and live as nothing

Fudge wasn't ready to leave yet, one last jump for the ministry, that's what he wanted, renewed faith in his office, a second chance. His eyes were glazed with an insane expression, the man was losing his job, his life, he was losing his mind.

"Harry! You aren't in the right frame of mind! Call off your Death Eaters!"

If he hadn't been in so much pain, Harry would have laughed. The man was going down, death eaters on his trail, and all he could think about was proving himself worthy of another term in office. He wanted Harry to be in his position, to be the one who received howlers on end from families who had begged for him to take action. But Fudge was in his own reality, blind to the trusted Wizarding families that were killed each day, dozens of dark marks filling the air of London. The man couldn't stand being the enemy, he wanted to cure the world, but refused to acknowledge the disease.

Despite this he was still trusted enough to make Harry seem the one who had caused this. With the knowledge of the boy's Parseltounge, he would not let Harry come out above him. He was envious of the boys influence on the Wizarding community and was nearly giddy with the way things were going. The Boy-Who-Lived would be made a fool and he, Cornelus Fudge, would rise again to be the most respected. Harry, still fuming, thought silently to himself. "Fine."


Then *you* can be the wanna be
And *I* can be the remedy

The little bit of Harry that wasn't injured longed to bring the man before Voldermort. He wanted to see Fudge cringe before the Dark Lord, he wanted Fudge to quiver and realize how grave things were. It was bad enough he was forced to see each death in a gruesome vision that linked him with Voldermort, but now, to have the Ministry make him out as the new dark lord? He didn't think he could handle that, the looks of betrayal that were shot his way, the ones who believed the papers became a large group and those who believed in him were growing few. His mind shook with a blind rage that he could barely control, a nearby tree threatened to snap in two.


And he can go to hell for all I care

Harry shook Fudge's arm away, his eyes sharp and pained. He stood his full height and looked directly into the Minister of Magic's eyes. There was no need to hold his tongue this time….

"You are a pitiful excuse for a wizard. So *blinded* by your own success, you refuse to acknowledge the pain that surrounds you. I am ashamed to have anything to do with you. How dare you accuse me of these deaths. How *dare* you! Do you honestly think I would be the one to kill my own Godfather? Or one of my best friends?" The last words were difficult to say, Hermonie and Sirius had only been dead for a month now. Fudge's face no longer held its usual authoritive look, it sagged and the man looked utterly lost.

Say this world is not so shallow

Aside from a select few, it was getting harder every day to believe that anyone could like him for who he was. The golden child, the chosen one, Harry longed for that moment before he knew he was a wizard, his sweet naive voice replying to the huge man before him that he was "Just Harry." Never before had he wished Hagrid hadn't come, but now…the war…so many innocent people cut down in Voldermort's path, so many died for him. His parents, begging for their child's life, when Harry knew, he would never amount to what they had become. Strong and proud, they knew what they had to do and did it, they didn't shake and cry as Harry did. If he had died that night, perhaps the others could have lived, what was a child compared to hundreds of brilliant witches and wizards? The loss was too substantial now. It had to end.


When you can't beg steal or borrow

Muggles were killed ruthlessly each day in order to provide entertainment to the death eaters. They swarmed around England like some kind of black plague, the Dementors had long since given up their posts at Azkaban, and no one was safe. Even Hogwarts had been destroyed, in that one fateful battle where students and teachers joined together, put aside their differences and fought. Only Ron Weasley and Professor Dumbledoor survived.


Save your breath your soul is hollow

Harry's darkened eyes gazed into Fudge's pleading ones. The old man had no idea what to do anymore. He still refused to openly state that Voldermort had returned, but deep down inside he knew he could do no more. Harry raised his wand, taking a sick sort of pleasure at the look of terror on Fudge's face and shouted. "Accio Firebolt!" The broom shot to his side and awaited him to mount. Fudge collapsed with relief, but Harry didn't notice…instead he was forced to remember that fateful night, when he had learned of his predicament from Snape. Snape had known….


And it's all too much to swallow

The void between life and death that Voldermort had survived in was only made possible by Harry. Harry remembered being sick quite often when he was young, and finally figured out that Voldermort had literally been sucking life out of the young boy. That void was only possible by a strong mental link, and Voldermort had succeeded in making one before he was "destroyed". Death Eaters were afraid to go near the boy in those ten years before Harry began school. That scar was legend….it symbolized both hope and despair. Life and death. But which would overcome the other? Snape had almost looked sympathetic when he had told Harry. Only hours later the man was captured by Voldermort, his tortured screams filling Hogwarts. An example made for his followers. The light side would be taught a lesson. Soon after, Hogwarts was no more.

Take this souvenir
They can't deny you were here

Who could say that Harry had not done his duty? He was the Boy-Who-Lived, the boy with the blessed life, the boy who had conquered evil at a year old. He smiled to himself, his soft round face obscured by dried blood and dirt, as he took the blade into his hand. It was a beautiful knife, delicate designs of ivy wrapped themselves in such a way that it was impossible to distinguish one strand from the other. Sirius once held that blade, a gift from James in their last year at Hogwarts. He slipped the blade into his pocket and mounted his Firebolt, his last links connecting him to his Godfather close. Pushing upwards he soared into the dark red sky, brushing his hair from his face, he didn't look back at Fudge, instead he thought of Sirius.

He had fought well, sending dozens of Death Eaters to their graves, saving numerous families. The man was strong, but not strong enough when the Dark Lord had come for him. Harry's broom faltered as he remembered Sirius's expression. Those dark eyes blazing with a fire that was once thought gone, Sirius had launched himself onto of Voldermort, yelling curse after curse. But he was no match for the torturous curses that were thrown his way by the Death Eaters in hiding. Thrown to the ground, his eyes had watered, but he refused to cry out even when Voldermort levitated a huge stone onto his chest.

Laughing, the death eaters vanished, Voldermort spitting into Sirius's face hissed "Foolish Gryiffindor, I should have killed you with the Potters." With an venomous sneer he too disapparated. Harry had found Sirius nearly an hour later, when he and Ron had been searching for survivors. Ron, his voice panicky had yelled for Harry to come over as he softly whispered "Wingardum Levoisa."

His soft blue eyes had broken into faint tears, he tried to recall Hermonie's face, the young girl having been killed a month previous, the one who taught him so much, spells, logic, friendship…she had taught him to love. Ron fell to the ground beside Sirius with Harry, not trusting himself to speak.

Sirius's voice had been weak, his breaths coming hard and forcefully. Harry's face haunted by a ghost of a tear, had taken his Godfathers hand, desperately performing the healing charms he knew.

Sirius touched the boy's face softly, shaking his own head and said "Harry, stop." Harry, whose mind had been running a mile a minute finally looked into his Godfathers eyes. Sirius had smiled, his eyes damp and filled with deep remorse and a throbbing pain repeated softly "You are *truly* your father's son. I love you Harry." Harry's breath had caught up in him. "You'll be ok….Sirius!…Don't… ." He choked and closed his Godfathers eyes. The tears finally came, burning painful sobs racked his thin frame as Ron's eyes grew wide with disbelieving tears. He reached out quietly to Harry and took the boy into his arms rocking him softly until the sobs became stiffled cries.

New found determination strengthened him…he would avenge those deaths, he would not let the last link to his family have died in vain. Leaning forward on his broom he soared above the graveyard that held Tom Riddle's parents, a large stone angel catching the last of the sun's deep red rays. Landing softly next to it, he propped the Firebolt in her arms. Bowing slowly to the angel, to Sirius, to Hermonie, to all who had fallen, he allowed himself a smile. He would rise and meet his fate. He could deny it no longer. The void between life and death must be severed. Harry Potter knew he must depart this life. After all, Dumbledoor once told him that death was just a new adventure. He turned on his heel and walked the short distance towards the old house.


This scar always there

He brushed his hand against his lighting bolt scar, tracing the lines with shivering fingertips. He would be the remedy for Voldermort's plague. He refused to be the enemy, he would not allow anymore deaths. 'Just Harry' wouldn't work today. He needed the scar, he needed the power, he needed the strength to say goodbye.

Ron had known what had to happen, being the one of the only Hogwarts students to survive, he went with Dumbledoor, to help him protect the Order of the Phoenix. Dumbledoor had allowed a small smile for Harry and embraced him as he saw the boy off. He knew there was no other way.

Voldermort sneered at him as he caught glimpse of the boy walking up the dirt path. He knew that the Gryffindor bravery would kick in sooner or later, he need not search for the child.

Harry took out his wand and faced Voldermort solemnly who in turn sneered. Having gotten a new wand, Voldermort knew that the same mistake would not be made twice. Grinning he shot a curse towards Harry who somersaulted backwards.

"You can't escape me this time Harry Potter." he hissed.

They exchanged several nasty curses as Harry continued to evade Voldermort.

"You wrong this time, I refuse to let this continue!"

Voldermort laughed for he knew nothing of the link they had. "Brave words for such a little boy." He held his wand high as he shouted "Avada Kedavra!"

Harry jumped sideways brushing the stone angel and his firebolt, the curse hitting a stone nearby. Harry closed his eyes for a brief moment and removed the knife from his pocket. He smiled at the heavens and drove it into his chest, blood seeping down over his black robes. Voldermort let out a shriek and clutched his body. Harry twisted the knife in his heart and felt the blood vessels tear, blood flowed freely from his body and he locked eyes with Voldermort.

"No more pain."

Harry watched Voldermort fall to the ground, motionless and silent, pure confusion tinting his features. The first true smile in a long time played across Harry's face as he crumpled at the feet of the angel. Gasping softly, he gazed up at her strong arms.

To medicate your fear