Chapter 10: The Siege
Whoso regardeth dreams is like him that catcheth at a shadow, and followeth after the wind. --Ecclesiasticus 34:2....
Severus girded up his courage and knocked on the door.
It swung open harshly and slammed against the stone wall. "What?" the Dark Lord demanded, bathed in cold fury.
Severus stepped in to the room, a cold dungeon, empty, except for 5 Aurors and the shackles that bound them. The Aurors were covered in soot, dirt, and blood. And Snape could have cared less.
"Milord, I hate to interrupt," Snape said softly. "However, I thought you should know that I have seen to your son, but I shall remain with him until morning. He required sleep, but refused to do so, so he has been sedated for the time being. He is in no small amount of pain from his injuries, and he needs time to allow the potions to work." The Potions Master hesitated to mention anything about Harry's doubts to his surrogate father. Emotional weakness would have been punished severely.
The Aurors quaked and one, a Hufflepuff from the looks of him, squeaked, "Son?"
"Yes. The Silver Serpent is my heir," Voldemort snapped. "Stay with him, Severus. If his condition changes, contact me immediately. I will be here after I deal with them." He glanced at Snape, who froze with the movement.
"I will do as you command, my Lord," he responded, cryptically.
"Wait," Voldemort said, as Snape moved discreetly back to the door. "You care for my son, don't you?" he hissed in Snape's ear.
"Of course, my Lord. Lord Argentus holds my loyalty, but my loyalty is yours first," he replied, stiffening.
"Then perhaps you would like to cast the first curse?" Voldemort asked.
Snape glared at each of them. "No, my Lord, for you wish to teach them a lesson first. I would kill them outright." He turned back to the Dark Lord. "May I have your leave to return to your son's side?"
Voldemort looked him over, head to toe. "Of course, Severus. You may go."
As the door closed behind him, he could hear the first of the screams begin.
Severus wrote the letter to Dumbledore quickly after returning to Harry's bedside. The boy breathed regularly, and did not toss or turn as Snape kept a silent vigil.
'Albus. I have returned to Riddle Manor, to find Harry's injuries dealt with, but he has lost a great deal of blood, and Voldemort has asked me to look after him, until he is satisfied that the Aurors we captured have suffered for their hexes.
'I don't know quite how to put this delicately. The boy collapsed into my arms after I gave him the required potions, and cried until I thought he was out of tears. And he could give me no logical explanation for his outburst. I gave him a sedative, and he is sleeping, but I feel unable to leave him here alone. And yet I can think of nothing that I can do to help him but be here. I am neither his father, nor a psychologist, nor am I you. Voldemort will come once he can, to see if there is anything he can do to help Harry recover mentally.
'He's beyond consolation. I take it as a good sign that he feels remorse for killing Fudge and his uncle. But it has fundamentally changed who he is.
'I hope that you understand, Albus. I will attempt to return once there is some improvement in his color or other condition, and once Voldemort can stay with him.
'We are rapidly running out of time before the next assault, and every moment that Harry stays in bed is a minute more that he cannot help us. Voldemort is too distracted to plan, and I don't know how we can adequately plan the defenses if we don't know his strategy.
'I will see you upon my return, Albus.
'Severus.'
Albus read the parchment and dismissed the owl. He turned to Remus, who was in the office with him. "Word from Riddle Manor."
"What is it?" Remus asked, panicking. "Harry's still alive, isn't he?"
Albus handed him the missive. He watched as the lycanthrope paled. "What does he mean 'injuries'?"
"Harry was hit by a slashing hex three times, and was unable to get to a medi-wizard. Severus and Voldemort are supervising his care," Albus explained. "At least Severus was able to inform me of his location. I always worry the nights that he is gone."
Remus looked back down at the letter. "Why do you worry about him? He can take care of himself."
Albus smiled. "He is my grandson. My daughter died when he was a boy and he was raised by his father and stepmother. He is one of my last relatives, besides Harry."
Remus gaped. "What do you mean, besides Harry?"
"Harold James Potter is the sole grandchild of my other child. Maiden names often hide familial relationships. And I fear that I never told Harry of his relation to me, or to Severus," he explained, conjuring a cup of peppermint tea.
"Is there anything that we can do?"
"We can only wait, Remus."
Harry woke up in a haze the next morning. Snape was still by his beside, sleeping with his hand under his chin.
Harry's mouth was dry, his eyes were red from the tears, and he looked at the ceiling. He threw back the covers quietly and went to the bathroom to fetch some water. He padded in bare feet to the sink, filled a glass quietly and returned to the bed.
Snape was awake, waiting for the boy to return. "You shouldn't be out of bed. Your body is still recovering."
Harry sighed, taking a sip of the water. "Time is of the essence, Severus. I am hungry, and we have much work to do."
"He's right, Severus," said a smooth voice from the doorway. "You are better, my heir?"
Harry turned, shocked by the appearance of his father. "Yes, milord," he said, echoing the formal language of his father's address.
"You look a great deal better than you did last night. Get dressed. We have much to discuss over lunch," he said, laying his hand on Harry's shoulder, before walking out of the room.
Harry nodded and set down the half-empty water glass, before walking to his wardrobe. Snape got up and helped him pick out a shirt that wouldn't irritate his scars. "Be careful, Harry."
He smiled. "At this point, I don't have any choice," he whispered, as Snape placed the shirt in his hands. Harry pulled the long-sleeved cotton t-shirt over his head and straightened his hair, before tucking his shirt into the jeans that he had found earlier. He fumbled with the belt, then picked up his favorite set of black robes. "Do I look like an imposing figure of death and destruction, Severus?"
"Almost, milord," he replied, handing Harry a pair of shoes. "Imposing figures of death usually don't go around barefoot," he added, smiling.
Harry sat in front of a blazing fireplace, a thick tome of Slytherin's works in his lap again. A blanket was pulled tight around his shoulders, and a glass of wine sat abandoned next to him. His dark and silver hair fell into his eyes and he shivered into the blanket. This time tomorrow, it would all be over, one way or the other.
Either Light or Dark would win, for the Dark Lord had planned no quarter. He had gone to bed that night, smiling and giving Harry's shoulder a gentle squeeze. The Dark Lord would dream dreams of the future of his world.
But Harry could not dream of happy things any longer.
There was a muggle song that he had heard once, and the words rang in his head as he waited for morning to come. "I dreamed a dream in time gone by… when hope was high, and life worth living. I dreamed that love would never die, I dreamed that God would be forgiving…"
He couldn't remember where it came from, merely that it was a favorite of Aunt Petunia's, like Harry himself was responsible for killing whatever dream of normalcy she had held.
"I dreamed a dream my life would be, so different from this hell I'm living…So different now, from what it seems…"
Sure, it was great to be loved, even by one man, one Dark Wizard. But why did he want the approval of Severus over his own father's? Simple. Severus may have hexed James Potter, but he never killed him.
And now here he was, in the Dark Lord's fortress. Hoping for some semblance of strength from the wisdom of a man who died around a thousand years ago.
But the only thing he could find of any value was 'Hope is definitely not the same thing as optimism. It is not the conviction that something will turn out well, but the certainty that something makes sense, regardless of how it turns out.'
It was not what Harry wanted to hear.
The trouble was, he didn't know anymore. On his hands, HIS HANDS, was the blood of countless innocents whom he sentenced to die without a second's thought, to bring a new world order. A meritocracy, a system where change could be done. No such world seemed to exist.
Napoleon had tried it, and failed. And Harry had come to the conclusion that the only thing harder than building a new world order was keeping it that way. He didn't like that at all.
Harry had seen his enemies fall. And now that the bloodlust was gone, what was there? Absolutely nothing. The only thing that Harry had ever wanted, he could never have. His family. He gulped down the wine and let the book fall to the floor. He wanted to feel his mother's embrace, or to play Quidditch with his father, James. He wanted to just sit and talk. To plan pranks. To just be a normal boy again.
That hope was shattered.
He would prepare, just in case. There was no way that he was going back to Azkaban. No way in hell.
As he walked to the potions room, he passed a mirror. His hair was mussed, his eyes haunted, the bags under them dark. He was too pale, and barely recognized the boy staring back at him.
"Now life has killed the dream I dreamed."
The morning of the assault came as planned. Albus had moved the students from their respective dorms to safe locations throughout the castle, and the rest of the staff was either guarding them or fighting alongside the Aurors.
Harry waited in the shade of the trees as the Apparition barrier was brought down, looking at the castle that was once his home. "I miss this place, Severus."
"I know, milord," Snape replied. "You were forced to leave it far too soon. Are you prepared?"
"You do realize that the both of us are perhaps certifiably insane, right, Severus?"
"Of course," he said, drawing his wand.
"Just as long as you realize it," Harry muttered, crouching down in the bushes, as the first wave launched their attack.
Severus and Harry found themselves on the defensive most of the time, trying to avoid too much damage, without giving themselves up. They were pushed to the top of the Astronomy Tower by the Auror Guild, and Harry looked at the older Death Eater.
Snape was sweating, and held himself behind a large stone.
"You know, Sev, you'd probably be better off if you started working out," Harry said sarcastically.
"Do shut up, milord," he replied, throwing a stunning spell at the closest Auror.
A brief flash of green light caught the eye of the younger man. "Sev, look," he said, heart broken at the conclusion of a battle that he didn't want to see.
At the top of the North Tower, there was a single figure standing over the crumpled body of another. The victor's hair was white, and Harry looked at the figure of his father lying on the ground.
Snape looked back at Harry. The teen's eyes had returned to their original green shade, but his hair still retained its silver color. He set his jaw, a single clear tear running down his face. "Harry!" he called, as the teen ran off, blowing past the Aurors and dodging hexes as he ran.
It was nearly 10 minutes before anyone found him. Harry had set out the things from his pockets on a piece of black cloth in front of him. Lying less than ten feet away was Voldemort's body, and Harry walked over to him, closed the now graying eyes and pulled a green crystal pendant from the man's neck. He returned to his things and collapsed in front of them.
"Harry?" Sirius asked.
"'Lo, Sirius," he replied. "I don't mean to be rude, but go away."
Sirius' eyes fell on the bottle of cyanide, the wand, and the obsidian knife from Azkaban sitting in front of the kneeling teen. "Harry, you know that I can't."
"Well, I tell you what. I'll walk you through it. You turn around, put one foot in front of the other and come back in an hour when I'm dead," he said dryly.
A new pair of footsteps came up at the door. "Harry," Snape said, walking in.
"Hey, Severus. We're about to have a party in here, aren't we?"
"No, Harry. We can't let you do this," Albus' weary voice came from the doorway.
Harry's fingers traced the outline of the knife. "I loved him, you know. Like the father I had never known. And I know that you don't feel like I should miss him, but I do," he said, another tear falling down the boy's cheek to land on the wand. He held up the pendant and watched it gleam in the sunlight. "This was a gift from me to him. Christmas." He pulled up his left sleeve to reveal a bracelet with malachite hammered into it. "This is what he gave me. The only things that last are made of metal, I guess."
Severus knelt down at Harry's right side. "Harry, what has happened was what had to happen. You know that."
He nodded. "He didn't perform the Rites. He thought that he had plenty of time, just like I did." He picked up the bottle. "You know, that this is Severus' way. What he would choose. No magical cure. It's probably what the Dursleys would have assumed I chose." Harry stroked the flat edge of the blade and said, "A reminder of my time in Azkaban, and the one that I thought I would use when I was in prison."
"And the wand, Harry?"
"The way I always thought I would die from the age of 11. At wand-point," he muttered. "Oh, I am fortune's fool." He buried his head in his hands.
Snape took Harry by the shoulders and said, "'As thou'rt a man, Give me the cup; let go… If thou didst ever hold me in thy heart, absent thee from felicity awhile and in this harsh world, draw thy breath in pain…'"
"'To tell my story.' Sev, I didn't know you had read it," he said, looking into his dark eyes.
"You have saved me, Harry. From the darkness that we served, and the darkness in my own heart. Let me save you. I have friends in other countries, where you could live in peace."
"In exile."
Sirius knelt by his side. "Harry, exile is preferable to death. Remus and I can come with you… we have nothing here except you."
He looked at the other three. "You wish for me to run in disgrace, rather than die with dignity?"
"Yes. With all my heart."
"Yes, Harry."
"Harold, it is your choice, but you still have a great deal of life left ahead of you," Albus said gently.
Harry bit his lip, and threw the cyanide against the wall where it shattered, and then picked up his wand and handed it to Sirius. He kept the black dagger and held it above his heart, where he could easily slit his neck open. "I have made my choice…"
--00--
In the words of Brak, "na na na, na na!" *Cue eerie organ music*
Lyrics were from Les Mis… "I dreamed a dream". If you haven't listened to it, I recommend it. It's a great song, sung by the dying prostitute, Fantine.
And Slytherin's quote is from Václav Havel, a Czech playwright and president, in his work Disturbing the Peace, ch. 5.
Well, a thanks to all my reviewers. Who I am sure will kill me, while awaiting the conclusion.
ntamara - as an attendee of one too many frat parties, there is no such thing as ordinary alcohol :P
amy - thanks, I've been told that Voldie is OOC, as is Harry, but thanks for letting me know that it's okay.
RaistlinofMetallica, It's good to be the Dark Lord's heir!
GY - thanks for the assertion of the word length. Harry as a withering flower… I love it.
Fleur - Thank you, and here it is
Cho Chang - (honestly, is this the weirdest two to get in order or what?) Thanks for telling me that you 'can feel the Darkness'. That shouldn't give me warm fuzzies, but it does.
sabriel-chan - Honestly, sometimes it sucks to be one of the shades of grey, no?
RavensHaelo - I have rotten luck. I've had 5 good, and 4 bad in my time at school, and now I'm getting three more. Ya'll will love them, though… so I need to find my angst elsewhere. They gave me such memorable lines at an ice cream place as "I don't like it when people touch my cone," and something about licking a pita.
Jaded Angel - Um. Yeah. Will post more info with the epilogue, depending on how the writing (and reviewing) goes.
luke-6622427 - Um… yeah. I have four lighters in my bedroom… and I don't even smoke. Hogwarts hasn't burned yet. *Lights a lilac scented candle* Is that okay?
Anne Phoenix - Brains are funny that way , aren't they? What fanfic is all about. Thanks for reading!
ColdKiss - Thanks. I know it's been done before, but sometimes, looking into the darkness of the abyss shows you who you are, that you've never been before. Besides, until OoTP, Harry never had a backbone, or anything but meekness followed by occasional courage (or stupidity, if you ask Snape). I wanted more.
Hell's Reaper - Bellatrix… Bellatrix Lestrange. Book 5… responsible for someone's Death. Someone major's death… (No more questions! Don't ask me any more questions!) I don't know… how do you characterize someone you hate? I hate her. I can write Voldie because he's fun. Bella needs to take a long walk of a short pier, and then get Kissed.
LadyHuntress - I made this line to be a bit about the Wizarding Oath, and Life Debts. Harry believes that once, a long time ago, Dumbledore saved his life by taking him to the Dursley's, then bringing him back. He didn't have to. So by saying that his debts were discharged, he is cutting ties with Dumbledore, saying, I don't owe you anything. Thanks for reading!
Goku-chan2002 - Is that Goku from Saiyuki or Goku from DBZ? Anyways, thanks for reviewing, hope you enjoyed this.
Lelio - Thanks for reviewing.
Snape coolgirl - 'wasn't bad.' Hm… maybe it's the early morning stupor, but that's a complement, right? Just kidding. Thanks for reviewing again.
*** - Yes, Master. Anything you say, Master. Thanks for reviewing, Master. (snickers. Hope you liked this bit.)
le'Ange de Mort - That's okay… Just mention me and my fic when you… hm… appropriate something that I have done… I can't wait. You should write more, hon. You're a great writer! And yes, family vacations suck.
MostEvilKitten - Thanks. I thought so too.
Artemis MoonClaw - I have, now you continue reviewing.
Muggle - *smiles and blushes* Thanks. I think that a walk down the Dark side can do anyone well, but then again, I'm a closet weirdo. I used to call my mom from my closet freshman year. No, just kidding. But truthfully, Harry needed to know what was so appealing.
CatatonicReaction - 'known'. Am I supposed to respond 'unknown?' Sorry, I am confused.
And finally.
Mella deranged - Well, consider this. You have been arrested for a crime, not your fault. You have been imprisoned in Azkaban, the world's worst prison, and heard the screaming, the suicides, and still seen Voldemort's in your mind. You're stuck with memories of your supposed family beating you and such. Knocking you around at the minimum. All your happy memories gone. No Animagus transformation. Just you, and the pain of living.
Then along comes someone who offers you a new chance at life. A chance to hurt the person who hurts you. And all you have to do is swear your allegiance to him, on a soul you don't even believe you have any more. He's lucky that he's not catatonic.
I believe that if pushed too far, if relied upon too much, anyone can break, and in this story, Harry did. My friends always tell me that it's not OOC if it's believable within the context of the story. Here, I feel it is.
Sorry, just had to say that.