The Gift

Indarae

Parings: Light Luna/Harry nearing the end, but that's not my ship, at all.

Rating: Pg-13, as always, for disturbing imagery and war.

Distribution: Schnoogle, Twisting the Hellmouth, ff.net, or simply email to ask.

Summary: (Severitus' Challenge) The death of Albus Dumbledore leaves a mountain of questions for the Light. Along with Luna, Ginny, Ron, and the unlikely help of a Slytherin, Harry learns that answers often bring hearbreak as the final conflict approaches.

A/N: Thanks for all the lovely feedback, even for the prologue. Hopefully some of the themes contained herein will be new and creative, in the midst of a much-loved challenge. And continual feedback makes me happy ;).

Chapter One — Skeletons in the Closet

December 19, 1997

It took a full day of silence at Remus' bedside before Harry summoned the courage to put the question to Tonks, who hadn't even known his father — and even then, he refused to admit what he'd seen. "Was Dad an only child?" he demanded, without prelude, tossing aside his History of Magic essay on the advent of wizarding government in Canada.

Tonks choked on her tea. "No... he wasn't... er, why do you ask?"

Harry caught himself before he admitted that he'd been spying on Snape. Tonks was an Auror, after all, not just a surrogate aunt. If she knew the truth of the matter, Harry would likely end up with a Snape-hosted detention. "Well, I'd just gotten to thinking about next summer. I won't have to go to the Dursleys anymore... and I know Dumbledore sent me to live with them because of the blood tie. But if Dad had siblings, why didn't I go to live with them?"

He expected an admission about the graves on the lakeshore. What he got was more than he'd bargained for. "Dumbledore didn't want to tell you," Tonks started hesitantly. She sighed, rubbing her face. "Well, Remus didn't either, and Remus has always done what Dumbledore asked... They thought that the information might colour your perceptions of the war — they're probably right, it will, but I think you deserve the truth of the matter. You see, Harry... James had a brother and a half-brother, Henry and Julius. Julius was quite a bit older than James was — Julius was only a few years younger than your grandmother was — and Henry was two years James' senior. They were both Dark by the time I was born."

"What were they like? How come nobody talks about them?" And how come neither was named Elizabeth and resting beside the lake? Harry stacked his books on the table next to Remus' bed and settled in for the story — and quite a story it promised to be, as Tonks squirmed in her chair uncomfortably.

"I can't think of a lighter way to put it... nobody talks about them because they were Death Eaters, Harry. Both of them. And that's why I know about them; it's required reading for Aurors." Tonks held up a hand to stop the torrent of questions Harry was preparing. "Please — before you get nervous about it, let me tell you a little more about Julius' mum. She was a Slytherin — an Avery, in fact — and Julius was born only a few months after your grandfather finished Hogwarts. It was an indiscretion that rocked both families, I'm told. Julius was raised by his mum, and ended up a Slytherin... Henry was a Gryffindor, but Julius took him under his wing when Henry left Hogwarts. I wasn't there for it, but Sirius told me how he changed, how he became Dark; it sounded terrible. But, in the end, it was their own evils that killed them. Julius tried to depose Voldemort's right hand, and when the Dark Lord learned of it, Julius, his wife, and his son were all murdered. That was 1976. In the next year, Henry was caught passing information to our side. It seems he turned back to the Light after Julius' murder; and Henry was also killed by Voldemort's hand. So, you see... Henry was redeemed. He wasn't completely evil."

Harry mulled over the information for a moment. It all seemed to fit, somehow... after all, the entire school had been very willing to think of Harry as the Heir of Slytherin when they'd learned he was a Parseltongue, and rumors had spread for ages after Cedric's death that Harry had been involved. "Hagrid once told me that there wasn't a wizard gone bad who hadn't been in Slytherin," Harry noted dully, too preoccupied with his thoughts to realize he'd spoken aloud. "He was certainly wrong..."

Tonks nodded, her voice snapping Harry from his reverie. "Beyond Pettigrew and Henry Potter and that Ravenclaw we found dead after the battle, he forgot that there are quite a few Slytherins who are Light. Snape, of course. All of the young ones who hid when Voldemort came calling."

"Goyle. Flint. Montegue. Parkinson. And Draco Malfoy, in the end. I heard Filch talking to Professor McGonagall — Malfoy's blood won't come off of the stones. I just can't believe he'd make a stand..." Harry sighed and shook his head. That vision would haunt him as much as the moment of Hagrid's or Dumbledore's death. After the injured Voldemort fled, Harry had been the one running to the Hospital Wing for help. And there, in the corridor outside the Fat Lady's portrait, he'd stumbled over Draco Malfoy's corpse, still warm, and into a pool of blood. His face had been set in a last determination.

Harry didn't realize he was crying until Tonkss limped over and drew him into a hug. "We were wrong about a lot of things," she admitted in a whisper. "Mad-eye found Lucius Malfoy's body this morning."

"What?" Harry hissed, pulling back from Tonks' comforting embrace. "Voldemort killed him, too? If he keeps going through followers like that -"

"No," Tonks cut in, shaking her head emphatically. "He hung himself in his front parlor, with a snapshot of Draco tucked in his pocket. Professor McGonagall told me at lunch. It was most definitely suicide — all curses have been ruled out."

They'd been wrong about everything, it seemed. Harry sighed and brushed away the tears. It was dinnertime, but he didn't want to face the nearly empty Slytherin table, or the haunted faces of the first-years, as they stared at the empty chairs littering the Head Table. Three days, and Remus was still in a coma. Dumbledore was dead. And Hagrid was gone. "Can we eat here again?" Harry asked softly. "I'd like to hear more about my dad's family. Do I have any other family out there, or are they all dead?"

"You need to eat in the Great Hall, Harry," Tonks murmured back. She reached for her crutches and patted Lupin's (still unresponsive) hand before rising unsteadily. "I know your friends are worried sick about you, and Ron's nearly at wits' end keeping Ginny from hysterics. He isn't looking too well himself... and Hermione won't leave the library, though I expect that's business as usual. She's told me she'll find a solution there... but she's just working away her grief. I can't blame her. And Minerva's thinking about ending the term early, just so everyone can go home in peace. I'm afraid many won't come back." Tonks began hobbling toward the door. "I'll tell you about your dad's family on the way. I'll tell you what Remus told me. It'll take plenty of time."

Harry rushed to open the door for Tonks. "Well, what was my grandfather like? Did he have a big family, like the Weasleys? Did Dad have cousins all over the place, like Ron?"

"Some, I think. I don't really know," Tonks admitted. "I think most of them died before my birth, and before yours. James' dad — his name was Henry. Your uncle was named for him, of course. James' dad was a highly respected Auror, he's in all the textbooks. He was a twin, actually, just like Fred and George Weasley, but according to Remus, your great-uncle Edward died when James was very little. Edward had a daughter called Elizabeth and a son called William — William was another Auror and died in defense of the McKinnons in '75, though he wasn't so famous as his uncle, and Elizabeth died in childbirth just before you were born."

And there it was — she was a cousin. Harry tried not to seize upon the solution too obviously, but he was unable to hold back all of his enthusiasm for the subject. "Childbirth? So, is her kid still out there?"

"Stillborn," Tonks said softly. "Remus told me about your birth, while we were at Grimmauld together. He said Elizabeth and Lily were here at Hogwarts hiding out together, since they were both too pregnant to do anything for the Order. I was seven years old, then, I remember being in hiding with my family too... but Remus said that after Elizabeth died and her child was stillborn, James was worried sick about Lily, and you. They weren't there when you were born, you know. Remus and James had gone off to help with some mission, because Lily wasn't due until halfway through August." The pair slowed down as Harry helped the crippled ex-Auror down the main stairs. "Remus said Lily was petrified you'd been born dead, too. You wouldn't cry or anything, but Dumbledore took you off and when he brought you back, you were smiling and screaming your head off."

Harry let Tonks lean on him the whole way up to the Head Table, ignoring the muted conversation and handful of students alone at the Slytherin table as best he could. "Was my name already picked out?" he asked, truly curious.

"Lord, no," Tonks laughed. "Actually, Remus said he thought you were a girl. Lily wanted to name you Caroline, and James wanted Grace. Remus said that was James' mum's name, and Lily's mum's name was Caroline. You ended up Harry, I guess since that was James' dad's nickname. I don't know for certain."

As Harry helped Remus settle in next to McGonagall, the new Headmistress smiled up at him. "Hearing the story of your miracle birth?" she asked sweetly. "Only two days after Bethy's death — what a tragedy, that... she never would admit who'd done the deed, and then it was too late," McGonagall murmured. Harry snuck a glance down at Snape; the dour Potions Master's head was bowed and he glared at McGonagall from under hooded lids. "Quite the scandal," Professor McGonagall continued. "She was only a month out of Hogwarts."

"He's had enough family history for one day," Tonks said with finality. "Go on, I can see Hermione, Ginny and Ron staring up at us all. You owe them some of your time."

"Yes, I do," Harry muttered, fighting a losing battle with a blush. With a nod to the professors, he went and joined Ginny, Hermione and Ron, eagerly accepting the seat at Ron's side.

"Any change?" Ginny asked from across the table, herding a few peas across her plate with her fork.

Harry didn't take any food at all. "None," he whispered. "It's been three whole days... Gin, what if he doesn't wake up?"

Ginny glanced up, then reached over to squeeze his arm. "Then he died saving you. He loves you like a son, Harry. He got to spend the last few months here, with you. He always wanted that, even if he couldn't adopt you because of the whole werewolf thing. And who knows... maybe tomorrow, he'll wake up with a smile and demand a full English breakfast. He's not dead yet."

"Not yet," Harry murmured. He buried his face in his hands and tried to push away the pain, the confusion, and the whirl of thoughts brought on by the brief family history. At the very least, Ginny was still there... not to mention Ron's smile, Luna's crazy theories, and Hermione's enthusiasm. They were all together.

~

"We'll have to send students home by portkey, and at a number of different times. The Express is much too dangerous, considering the circumstances," Professor McGonagall explained. Harry was only half listening, as there wasn't a chance in hell he'd be going back to the Dursleys this holiday, no matter the circumstances. They'd made that much clear when they'd kicked him out in August. No return, no contact, no nothing. "There will be a list for those remaining," McGonagall continued, "but unlike past years, your stay will have to be authorized by either Professor Snape or myself. All students who have somewhere to stay over the holiday are urged to go."

Snape caught Harry's attention — and the attention of the rest of the hall, it seemed, from the sudden cessation of noise — when he rose from his seat and gave his first speech as Assistant Headmaster. The bruises had faded, but his arm was still useless, and he picked at the edge of his sling as he spoke. "The remaining members of Slytherin House are urged to stay. By stating your allegiance, you've placed yourselves in twice the danger of any Ravenclaw or Hufflepuff in the room."

Ron gave a snort and murmured, "And Gryffindors place themselves in danger, is that it?" Ginny laughed softly and smacked him on the arm. Instead of adding his approval, Harry's gaze strayed to the Slytherin table for the first time in the past week. Twelve, he counted. Of the proud House, renowned for producing some of the finest — if most cunning — minds in the wizarding world, twelve remained at Hogwarts.

Without meaning to, Harry caught Blaise Zabini's gaze. The other boy nodded solemnly before turning to speak to a first-year. It was the only civil contact they'd ever had. Though brief, it called to mind a hundred gazes Harry had shared with other Slytherins — most hostile, and most with Malfoy.

Draco Malfoy, whose blood still stained the hall before Gryffindor Tower. Or Montegue, late of the sixth year, whose body had been found in the corridor near the Hospital Wing, at the point where the main hall split off. He'd likely tried to run for help — but some Death Eater had seen, and Montegue had fallen to a simple Killing Curse. Or Pansy Parkinson, who fell meters from Gareth, throat slit from ear to ear. The stain of her blood was still there, too, and Harry tried not to see it every time he went to visit Remus. Malfoy's blood, though — it was inescapable, as was the memory of his dead eyes, clouded over and sad. Harry wouldn't ever forget his eyes.

"Don't think about it," hermione whispered, grabbing Harry's wrist under the table. "It wasn't your fault." It was astounding how good she'd gotten at picking up his moods, but it was certainly something he needed. Ignoring a look of vague disgust from Seamus, Harry laid his head on Hermione's shoulder and stopped watching.

McGonagall was talking once more. "Finally, those who remain at the school will be expected to help with the war efforts. You will not have a restful holiday. The school governors will be making a final decision on who will fill Headmaster Dumbledore's post. He left a wealth of information behind him — some of you will be concentrating on reading his letters and papers. There are wards to repair, and Mr. Filch can always use help closing off unused classrooms and fortifying the areas we have. We'll work together on all this. Now, then... speak to Professor Snape or myself before Friday, and by Monday there will be a schedule for the removal of students. Please, keep what I've said in mind."

As food appeared on the table, Harry murmured, "Are you going to your parents, Ron?"

He shook his head. "Percy and Bill are coming here for the holiday." Ron still scowled when he said Percy's name, but the Minister of Magic's admission that Voldemort was actually around opened Percy's eyes ages earlier. Ron could always be trusted to keep his grudges. "I think Bill might be filling in for-for Hagrid temporarily — but he's great with wards and curses, so we could use him. Mum, Dad, and the twins are still in hiding. Dumbledore said it was too dangerous for us to go to them this year — and I'm sure he'll have told McGonagall that."
"How about Charlie?" Harry asked.

"Beauxbaton," Ginny said shortly, grimacing. "Maxine's using dragons to guard the school now, apparently. He has Hagrid's job there. I bet he's terrible — he hasn't a word of French."

Hermione glared, giving Harry a nudge so that he sat up again. "Ginny, that's a terrible thing to say about your brother! Plus, there are dozens of translation spells that could easily -"

"Oh, come off it," Ron snapped. He locked gazes with the overprotective Seamus, waiting for Hermione's boyfriend to make a move, but he stayed silent, mercifully. The arguments were getting louder and more violent as the year progressed. Harry just hoped the holiday would give everyone a chance to cool down.

"I'll bet all the Slytherins stay," Seamus said, shooting a superior glare at Ron before ignoring him entirely. "There are twelve? Six first-years, three seconds, a fourth, a fifth, and Zabini. How many died in the attack? How many left?"

"Seventeen died," Harry said, hoping his voice was more stable than it seemed to him. "Malfoy, Goyle, Parkinson, Montegue, Le Fay, Baddock, Jordan -"

Hermione shook her head with a moan. "Please, don't name them all. I can't stand to hear it again. How could he kill the children of his own followers?"

The image of Malfoy's clouded, sad, dead eyes, and of Parkinson's resignation, and Montegue's desperation floated across Harry's consciousness. "I wish we knew what happened. Why kill them the way they did?"

"I imagine Malfoy said something snarky and You-Know-Who didn't much like it," Ron put in. "He's... He was really good at insulting people. I couldn't ever imagine Malfoy taking orders from anyone."

"He looked defiant," Harry whispered. He was conscious of Seamus reaching over to give his shoulder a friendly smack, but the memory of the dead eyes was too much to bear, for the moment. "Malfoy went one step too far... and his father couldn't save him, for once. And that's why Lucius went home and hanged himself. And they found his mother, I read. They aren't sure what killed her — or they aren't admitting, if it was suicide or murder."

"It was murder," a voice broke in from Harry's shoulder. The focus of the whole table turned to one Blaise Zabini, standing at Harry's back. "They're saying she had the Dark Mark burned into her skin, and her throat slit. I guess the Dark Lord couldn't let the last one live... and Draco was the one who told me to hide the first-years. Without Draco's foresight, none of us would've survived. I'd say the Dark Lord discovered that." In the silence following his statement, Blaise slowly met each of the gazes directed at him before slipping out into the hallway.

Harry wasn't conscious of whatever happened next — he was too focused on the other boy's eyes, seeming just as deadened and darkened by loss as those he saw in the mirror every morning. The Dark Lord's reach was extending.

A/N: Next time, on "The Gift"...

Ron snorted as Hermione sobbed and let herself be led away. "I wouldn't be sorry if he didn't come back," he growled.

+

Zabini shrugged. "It's always about Draco. It always has been."

+

"Wait — did you say Hermes Potter?" Ron broke in.

+

"You honestly didn't know about 1899?" Blaise asked from his shoulder. "Lord — sorry about that. I thought everyone knew about the April Massacre... I had family there too, you know. On both sides. But that's what having a Slytherin family means... you never really know where your name will turn up."

.... Coming Soon!