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Disclaimer for Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter. Nor the Borg. Other people own them.
Not Myself by Saerry Snape
Chapter 150 – Conversations of Family
Harry waited for two long hours before he dared venture down to his father's rooms. He'd seen anger in every hard line of the dark wizard as he'd stormed from Dumbledore's office.
So instead of testing his father's ire, he settled down and had Sirius rant at him for an entire hour. When his godfather was done, Harry and Niamh had filled him in on what was currently happening.
Sirius glared at his godson and snarled, "That may possibly have been the most foolish thing you've ever done, Harry! That…that thing could have begun killing you as it was killing Niamh."
"I would'n let 'er die," shot Harry back hotly. Niamh glanced at him and saw his chin lifted defiantly, anger burning in his emerald eyes. He then looked at her and his eyes softened as he smiled. The girl return the smile tentatively and wondered, What ever did I do to have had two people love me this much?
By being you, came a soft reply that had a feeling of Harry attached.
You heard me?
Harry just nodded then looked questioningly at Sirius.
"Why do ye hate Da so much?"
The Animagus seemed caught off guard for a moment then shifted uncomfortably as he searched for a good answer to that question.
"Well," he said finally, running a hand back through his shaggy hair. "I don't think I can give you an answer you can accept on that one, Harry."
"Meaning all the reasons you have are pitiful ones," piped Niamh.
Sirius frowned then nodded slowly.
"Something like that. The real animosity started when I met him on the train. I'd been told that he was my cousin – and I assume he'd been told the same – and then I heard all about his father. I assumed he'd be the same."
"Ye prejudged 'im, y'mean," said Harry, eyes hooded.
"Yes," replied Sirius. "And then there was James… He was as pureblooded as either of us but he hated Snape with a passion. For the family history. And I think the fact that he was related to them too…"
"Hold on a bloody minute! James was related ter us? Tha means…" Harry's eyes widened as he gasped, "Mika. 'Is mum said she was James' sister."
Sirius nodded in confirmation.
"Calissa. She was four years older than the lot of us. Madly in love with an Auror – married him too. Then fell into Moody's arms after Davids was killed on a mission under him. I think you can figure out the rest from there."
The two teenagers nodded and Sirius sighed.
"And then there was Shalay…"
"Who?" asked Niamh.
"My aunt," explained Sirius. "I saw her frequently for the first seven years of my life and then she was gone – vanished. My mother never explained what had happened to her until she told me she had died. It was almost as bad as when I learned James and Lily were gone…"
"She," began Harry slowly. "She was me gran'mother, was'n she?"
Sirius' haggard face stared across the space between him and his godson.
"Yes, Harry. I wish you could have known her. I only knew her for seven years but…she was a truly wonderful woman. Like an angel."
Harry smiled grimly at the thought of another relative he would never meet. Another one that had been taken from him before he could.
It made him quite ill.
"I'm going to see if Da's calmed down," he said hurriedly, getting to his feet. He felt as though he needed to talk to his father immediately.
Sirius looked about to protest but at a glare from Niamh clamped his mouth shut. Harry smiled and gently kissed her cheek before he left the room adjacent to Dumbledore's office where they'd been talking.
He didn't see Sirius' arched brows or the blush that spread across Niamh's cheeks as the Animagus turned towards her with a thousand questions reflected in his blue eyes.
* * * *
A gentle rapping coming from the direction of his bookshelf forced Severus from the alcohol induced doze he'd dropped into. The Potions Master jerked awake and glared menacingly at the bookshelf, debating sending a curse its way before he remembered the secret passage that lay behind its shelves.
"Who's there?" he called, his words slightly slurred.
"I's me, Da."
"Harry. Come in, come in…"
The bookshelf moved forward and the lean, long-limbed figure of his son slipped in. Long, dark braid swinging behind him, the teen eased the bookshelf back into place before he turned towards his father. Immediately his nose wrinkled in distaste.
Green eyes darted from the empty glass barely cupped in Severus' hand then to the label-less bottle that sat upon the nearby table.
"Firewhiskey?"
Severus frowned and peered at the bottle as though he'd just noticed it sitting there. He then winced and mumbled, "It seemed like a good idea at the time."
Harry sighed and strode forward, picking up the bottle and removing the glass from his father's hand. He cleaned the glass with a touch of his wand and a muttered charm before putting it and the bottle back in the cupboard where they belonged.
Severus scowled at the removal of the alcohol but made no comment about it.
Harry turned slowly and eyed his father critically. He knew very well that the man only drank when he was upset and he was generally not upset enough to get himself as drunk as he was now.
This situation, however, was beginning to remind him of the time Niamh had told him about. When he'd been in his coma and Severus had brought her down here, placing her in Harry's own room. She had awoken to find his father suffering from what Jardin had claimed later to be the side effects of a night spent drinking rum.
"Da…"
"I want to hear nothing of that conversation upstairs."
Harry frowned then said softly, "Sirius tol' me. About Gran'mother."
Severus scowled – although it was slightly off due to the alcohol – and snapped, "He had no right!"
"She was 'is aunt, Da. Family. Why did'n ye tell me?"
Harry looked at his father pleadingly, wanting an answer more than anything in the world. That his father had kept a secret like this from him hurt him. He himself had kept secrets but they had been one's he was ashamed of.
His father simply hated his connection to the presence of his godfather.
"It didn't seem important."
That answer infuriated Harry and he felt his temper rise. Forcing it down, he clenched his left hand then released it, letting out a breath he hadn't realized he'd held.
"I's important to me," he hissed after a moment.
The glazed dark eyes lifted and met emerald in a gaze that wavered then held before wavering again. Severus scowled, fought for something to say, lost it, and gave up trying. He searched again and found something, holding onto it as best he could with his hazy mind.
"Fine. What do you want to know?"
"Why does Sirius hate ye so much? And why do ye hate him?"
Severus frowned.
"He heard so much about my father that he thought I was just like that flesh-clothed devil. We hated each other from the moment we met."
"An' the first question?"
Severus frowned again.
"That was the first question."
"No it was'n," said Harry, eyes narrowed. "Tha was the second. Now answer me, Da. Why does Sirius hate ye so much?"
The dark wizard scowled then frowned when his head pounded with the first motion. Struggling through the haze threatening to overwhelm his mind, he spoke.
"He believes that I am responsible for the death's of his family."
Harry's eyes widened and he gasped, "What?"
"His mother, Jules, was killed by Death Eater's sometime after Black was taken to Azkaban, as was his father, William. They killed his sister Melinda, who was in her seventh year at Hogwarts and home for Christmas break. After that they murdered his brother Amadeus who was only ten at the time. They butchered the entire family without any mercy, including their owls. He blamed me for their deaths and always has."
"Because ye were a Death Eater?"
"Indeed. Now…" Severus' voice broke off as he yawned uncontrollably and Harry smiled wryly.
"Okay," he said with a glint in his eyes. "Time fer bed."
Severus glared at him but complied, getting pulled to his feet by Harry when he found himself unable to rise from his chair. The teenager tailed his father into his bedroom where he watched the man flop facedown onto the neat blankets. A moment later he heard a low snore.
Chuckling, Harry drew his wand from its holster, flicking it at a blanket that was neatly folded atop a steamer trunk. The dark green cloth rose into the air then spread itself over the Potion Master's unconscious form.
Harry hunted down a Sobriety Potion and sat it where his father would see it when he awoke. He then hurriedly fled as the Gauntlet began to hum and the runes etched into the silver began to turn dark. Fleeing the set of rooms, he found himself collapsing in the outside corridor, clutching at his right arm.
The flesh underneath the Gauntlet seemed to be afire and Harry yelped in surprise as the silver began to burn. Holding his arm away from his body, he clenched his jaw shut against the cry of pain that wanted so badly to rip its way out of his throat – not because he didn't want to but because that was the way he responded to pain.
Eyes watering, Harry stared in shock as the Gauntlet melted, the silver dripping to the stone floor in streams and pooling there. Where it had been his flesh had been burnt away, revealing the bones underneath.
Shaking in pain and horror, Harry whimpered softly. Then, as he watched, the pool of silver began to shift and move. It rose up like a snake ready to strike and lashed itself about his wrist. From there it pulled it self back onto his arm, sliding over the bones and reforming the flesh and muscle of his arm.
Then as quickly as the molten silver had covered his arm, it fell off, scattering into a thousand or more tiny silver shards. Harry gaped and touched his now free arm with his other hand, marvel in his eyes. It was then that he heard the voice.
A voice that seemed to come from nowhere and everywhere at once.
"Ya dethèin krai feth sie, kee reta braihan. Mashtíer bè Aerilsedza Hèirai loth mak gree Gautlein traithan maith Daicrai ket yaia praithee bè gree korbé ursal gree waru korbé raithae noth ka pith shai. Ignorme laidee Gautlein ta frestray aith mayday ta gorbesh."
Green eyes widened as the sweet voice of a woman echoed in his head, obviously an Elf because no mortal could possibly have a voice like that.
Scrambling to his feet, Harry began to run, heart pounding heavily in his ears.
* * * *
Niamh was walking towards Arx Serpens, Sirius at her heels in his Animagus form, when she sensed an excessively happy presence rushing towards them. Stopping, she blinked as she recognized the presence.
"Harry?" she whispered, not remembering him feeling this happy since the summer. Before the Gauntlet has come crashing into their lives.
Sirius blinked and peered up at him, nudging her hand with a wet nose. She looked down at him then was shocked as Harry appeared from behind a tapestry (obviously a secret passage). He grabbed her and pulled her into his arms, spinning in a circle as he laughed merrily.
When he sat her back on her feet, she swayed for a moment then found her lips trapped by his. The kiss caused half of her mental walls to go down and she swooned with the heady brew that was his joy.
Sirius barked loudly but was ignored, even as Harry pulled back from Niamh.
Reconstructing her mental walls in a matter of seconds, Niamh opened her eyes and blinked at Harry in shock. There was merriment glittering in the emeralds he bore for eyes and a smile quirked at the thin lips he had inherited from his father.
That was when she noticed it.
There was no prickle from the runes left by the Gauntlet of Aerilsed.
No sharp claws pricked her back where his right hand rested.
A glance proved all this to be true. The Gauntlet was gone. And there was nothing left on Harry's arm to prove it had ever been there at all.
"Oh my God," breathed Niamh, grasping his right arm. She pulled it in front of her and ran her hands over it, quite aware that she was gaping. Looking up into those merry eyes, she gasped, "How?"
"I doan know," replied Harry. "I was leaving Da's rooms and then I was on my knees. The Gaun'let melted in front of me eyes, leaving nothing but bone where it ha' been. And then the pool it ha' melted into rose up and me arm was whole again. Then there was that voice…"
"What voice?" asked Sirius, causing both teens to jump.
Harry frowned at his godfather but couldn't keep it up as his joy was overwhelming.
"It was a woman speakin' Elvish. Almost like it ha' been recorded in the Gaun'let. So it would play when it was destroyed."
"What did she say?" asked Niamh, her eyes sparkling as she was swept up in his joy.
"'A promise made long ago, now to be honored. Ancestor of Aerilsed's Heir shall wear the Gauntlet created from Darkness for four passings of the moon until the new moon waxes on her final day. Only then shall Gauntlet be destroyed and world be free,'" quoted Harry from memory.
"Aerilsed's Heir…" breathed Sirius. "Aerilsed was an Elvish province when they still ruled. It was a Princess of Aerilsed that married Pharvith Ardwith and gave birth to the Elf who married Tirades Snape."
Harry stared blankly at his godfather. How in all nine Hells did the man know that?
Sirius seemed to understand his blank stare and chuckled.
"My aunt, Harry. She revealed the entire family tree of the Snape's to me once. I don't know why I remembered it…"
The three of them stood there in silence for a moment then Niamh squealed, "You're free!" and hugged Harry fiercely about the waist. He chuckled and returned the hug, not noticing the odd smile that appeared on Sirius' face before he changed back to his Animagus form.
Author's Note
To anyone wondering where I get my Elven, I make it up off the top of my head. Just random gibberish that seems to fit together. Best way to make a language in my opinion.
Also, this wasn't the original way the Gauntlet was going to be dispersed but it came to me as I was writing and I couldn't let it go.