Title: Avada Kedevra Eyes
Author: Away with the fairies
Rating: PG
Pairing: Gen except from the Salazar Slytherin/Godric Gryffindor if you look hard enough.
Summary: Post-OotP. Harry Potter speculates on Salazar Slytherin, his eyes, why he survived that night and how it all fits together. The Mildest of mild slash. One-off.
Disclaimer: I own only the concept of 'Avada Kedevra Eyes'
I've always thought it rather ironic. The boy-who-lived with eyes of death.
Death, that followed Harry everywhere, death that couldn't claim him but controlled him all the same. Death that was a rush of green light speeding towards him, was green meeting green, was his Mother crumpling to the ground, was a cackle of evil and was blank eyes that lost the final clash that meant everything yet in the end came to nought.
Death was that, that always won.
Death was that, that always got what it wanted.
Death was that, that never lost.
Except with him.
Death had wanted him-still wanted him- had streamed towards him, had attacked him in a routine manoeuvre that had been fought before but never beaten. For in the scant minutes, seconds, milliseconds, microseconds... that the curse-the Deity, the force of nature, the end-took the time to travel from wand tip to victim eye the battle was fought, bravely but unconsciously, always with the same victor.
'Until me.'
When I see Dementors I see death. Not the dark, looming, cackling figure of Voldemort, but the beam of brightness jetting from his wand and towards my direction. It seems to stretch on for hours. Time slows for me, and for the force of nature.
I had time to study it. I see it often enough after all-Mum. Cedric. Countless others in my dreams. Me, of course. Famous Harry Potter who survived the unbeatable killing curse. -And I realize something, it may seem unimportant, insignificant compared to the fact that it's death, oblivion, the end coming for you, but I think it's what saved me.
Death is the exact shade of green as my eyes.
I didn't know what it meant at first but I knew that was the one reason I'm still here, breathing, alive, the winner where every one else failed. Not because of that stupid Prophecy made by Trelawney of all people.
Well, actually...
No. The prophecy simply clarified everything I already knew. I mean it was obvious I would be the one to kill old Voldie, or die trying. I mean who exactly did Dumbledure think I thought was going to be the murderer?
As the seventh months dies...
July doesn't 'die' before the 31st does it? So, it couldn't have been Neville since he's birthday's the 28th. Anyway, Neville doesn't have eyes the same glittering, fathom deep colour of the end.
You have Lily's eyes.
I don't have Mum's eyes. Near, so very, very near, but not exactly the same. I've stared at her picture for hours and hours, until my eyes sting and I'm almost afraid I'll go blind but I see that her eyes are a fraction of a shade lighter than mine are. Hardly noticeable from a distance or from even a five minute staring contest, but, they are. Still, Different.
If they weren't my Mum would still be alive.
I really have to laugh, because if I don't I think I'll cry and cry and never stop. I think now I understand how Sirius felt when he realised his best friends were dead and he'd be spending life in Azkaban, with the dementors.
The one thing I got from my Mum. The one ,tiny, little, thing I got from my Mum wasn't real her's.
They're Salazar's, Salazar Slytherin's, the one who invented the killing curse and looks amazingly like a nineteen year old Sirius. I found what I can guess is Godric Gryffindor's-I'm related to him apparently, another fact Dumbledure forgot to mention- penseive in the Potter family vault and I can see plainly that Salazar 'Evil, traitorous bigot' Slytherin eyes are the same expressive emerald green as my own. They sparkle the same when we laugh, darken with fury when we're beyond angry and gleam brightly when exceptionally determined.
I've always wanted a feature that was simply my own-that's why I've always liked my scar, even now on some level I'm still rather fond of it even though I know it's true purpose, because it's mine alone, my identity- but now I find out that if they'd been the same there's a large chance she would of lived.
I try not to dwell on it, and focus instead on what I can hear Hermione saying in my head, 'Harry, don't be ridiculous. The fundamentals of magic are not based on such things, the same reactions would have concurred even if your eye's were blue." I showed her one of Gryffindor's less personal memories with Salazar in it-Salazar seems to feature a lot in the penseive, even more so than Rowena Ravenclaw who was rumoured to be Godric Gryffindor's lover- and even though she admits that it's rather uncanny that looking into Slytherin's eyes is like looking into mine she insists that it's only coincidental and Salzar wouldn't use his eye colour as a safety- so that his own spell couldn't be used against him, "Spell makers most commonly use their D.N.A as a safeguard, something like eye colour is quite a wild card." Then softly, loosing the lecturing tone, "Harry, there's nothing you could have done. You were only a child."
But I can't help wondering at the irony of it though. The one curse that killed my Mother, my Father, muggle-borns, purebloods, Death Eaters and Order Members alike failed to off me, an innocent, one year and three month old little baby.
All because I have Avada Kedevra eyes.