As more about James's complicated past unravels itself, Harry is beginning
to learn more things about his late Godfather. But when he discovers too
much about the Marauders, Harry's life is thrown into a fatal vortex.
Voldemorte is back, he's already failed countless times in killing Harry,
and he doesn't intend to fail again.
Between The Heavens, a Trial of Faith: Chapter 18, Wakes of the Water Goddess
Harry's messy hair fell across his brow. As he dismounted Shadow, he crept low to the ground, avoiding the fatal blows of the Whomping Willow. Carefully he pressed the notch, and the tree lay dormant.
"Lumos," he whispered, and like the first day of creation, there was light where there had been none before. And as he gazed around, he noticed that the Willow appeared to be slightly different than it had been before.
"Good evening, Mister Potter," a voice said quietly in front of him, and raising the nova of light, Harry gazed, for the first time in over a year, the face of the man partially responsible for his parents deaths.
"Pettigrew!" Another silouette appeared from the shadows, "where are your manors? Mister Potter has just had a trying day, and a long journey, please, join us." The snake like eyes of Lucius Malfoy matched his hair, slicked back, like his son's, it could have been a portrait of Draco, just two and a half decades older.
No sooner had Malfoy offered his hospitality, had a chair slipped underneath Harry, and as his knees buckled, he could feel ropes binding his ankles and wrists. Cutting into him like venom.
"I had the pleasure of meeting your aunt," Malfoy's lips pursed, extraordinarily like Snape's, "not long ago. She's a bit fragile, bad temper, and a foul mouth, of course," he continued, "her family was foul enough, but she'll share the same fate as that of her brother, Mister Potter."
Harry cocked his eyebrow in slight confusion. If Malfoy felt that Harry would be angered by such insults towards Aunt Petunia, he was sadly mistaken, but some lingering feeling told Harry that Voldemorte knew better than that.
"My aunt," Harry said quietly, "doesn't have a brother, unless of course you consider Uncle Harold, her brother-in-law..." his voice trailed off, trying hard to read Malfoy's expression, though he seemed not so surprised by the remark, on the contrary, he appeared as to not have heard it at all.
"Oh, I remember her, I remember her very well," Malfoy leered, "I cannot explain to you, Potter, what a pleasure it was for me to kill her best friend, to watch Sam cry in pain, to watch her burn at my very wand, and just knowing that she was watching this all, just knowing that from that point on, the image of Sam's death and my wand would be branded on the interior of her skull, but I can show you." And slowly, Malfoy took his wand and raised it delicately to his temple, and a waterfall of silver liquid seeped from it into a glass bowl lying on the flour. He bent down, and with a surprising amount of effort, lifted it from the ground.
"Look in, Mister Potter," Malfoy drawled, "and see what your aunt was before fifteen years of exile."
Hermione's voice popped into his thoughts, or perhaps it was the voice of reason. "Careful, Harry," it hissed, "these men are not your allies, they want to harm you – HARRY DON'T!" Curiosity had, yet again, caught up with the voice of reason, and silenced it.
Swirling silver began to play softly in tune to Harry's arms and legs, and soon what had once been a glass bowl, was becoming the grounds of Hogwarts.
"How'd you find the OWLs?" A skinny, fair skinned, and slick hair asked, Harry twitched, uncomfortably, he was very conscious of the fact that this was Malfoy's memory, and he was no where to be seen, it was just the girls and, what looked suspiciously like the imprint of a body sitting cross-legged on the grass only meters away from them.
"Oh, Sam," the second girl whispered. Her voice was sweet, soft, but it had a slight demand of authority. "Failed the lot of it, I suspect."
Sam looked unpleasantly amused, "Micca," she giggled, something about her voice was irritating to him, "I bet you did better than I did when I was in my fifth year, God, you wouldn't believe the look my brother-"Micca gave an uncomfortable groan, but Sam appeared not to have noticed, "-gave when he saw the results, he almost had my head."
"Yes, well, that's the price you pay for wanting to be an Auror with a brother who's a Death Eater, I mean, I'm thinking either way he'll have your head."
Sam scowled, "Severus isn't like that, Michelle Daniel Potter, and you know it, he'd probably be a bit more pleasant towards you if your brother didn't try and feed him to the Giant Squid every time he lost a Quidditch match."
Harry looked at Micca, and then at Sam, and sure enough, Sam could have definitely have been some type of relative of Snape's, her nose even had a feminine curled hook to it. And Micca, now he recognized her, she looked, maybe slightly more innocent, but besides that, she was the spitting image of his Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher.
Harry looked around, and saw that other students had gathered around them, talking amongst themselves. He saw his father, Sirius, Remus and Peter standing within listening distance to the pair of girls, and then he saw the imprint in the grass begin to move.
A swirl of silver erupted from the Pensieve, and suddenly Harry was in a dark dungeon.
"Traitor!" Spat Voldemorte, "blood traitor!" He paced vigorously around, "young Miss Snape, Auror if I heard correctly."
"You fucking Nazi!" Sam yelled as loudly as she could, turning around to meet the eyes of every Death Eater. "All of you, purifying the race of Wizards, you're no better than Hitler!"
Harry saw the young faces of Death Eaters that he had seen in the Graveyard in his fourth year, and he saw older faces that he knew would parish within their own heads, in the walls of Azkaban years later.
"Calm yourself, Snape," Malfoy hissed, "tell us the whereabouts of your brother, and we will let you leave, unscathed and unharmed."
"If you think I am going to fucking sell out my brother, then you have another thing come!" Sam spat in his face.
"Manors," Lucius whispered, "Crucio."
Harry recognized and empathized the pain that Sam was feeling at this very moment. Her eyes closed shut, and he knew that she was praying for death.
"You ruddy basterd!" Michelle came bursting through the door, she looked as though she hadn't aged a day, and yet the anger seeping out of her eyes was astonishing.
"Potter," Malfoy said happily, "you can join your friend, and then we will just have your brother to add to our collection of foolish Potters."
"You will not touch me," she whispered, meeting his eyes, "and you will not kill HER," she pointed her wand at Sam, and she hovered up above the ground, the agony and pain clearing from her eyes, before dropping to the ground.
"Micca," Sam said from her slumped body position on the ground, "get out of here, you're just sixteen, you aren't even finished school yet."
"Micca?" Lucius said, sliding some hair behind his ears, such a lovely pet name, did Black give it to you?"
Michelle stared at him, and closed her eyes, "leave him out of this, Lucius," she whispered.
"Oh, but Micca," he said, drawling, "we both know that if his ickle belle is in trouble, he'll come," Lucius hissed the last two words, "and imagine this, so will James, and then we will have four people closest to Dumbledore all dead!"
Harry withdrew from the Pensieve, for he did not wish to see what was about to happen. He did not want to find out whether or not his dad and Sirius had shown up, and he did not want to see how Sam died.
"Does it disturb you," Lucius hissed near his ear, "that you needn't have lived with muggles your entire life. That Michelle knew Sirius was innocent, and had she simply just told that to Dumbledore, Sirius Black might have been cleared of all charges, that it was she that caused the death of your parents by betraying them. You've heard Black's side of the story, about Pettigrew, but Michelle knew all this, she knew that Peter was a part of the enemy, for she had seen him there, amongst the Death Eaters, she KNEW Harry Potter, and she didn't tell your dad this when he confided in her that he was going to use Peter as a Secret Keeper instead of Black."
Harry shook his head, it didn't make sense, unless Michelle was a Death Eater as well, but Dumbledore would have known this, and he would not have employed her. If he could not trust Dumbledore, then there was no hope.
"You filthy liar," Harry seethed.
"Think I'm telling you some far fetched tale, do you Potter? But the truth is, Michelle was too relieved to hear that Sirius was not going to be in mortal danger, she would not jeopardize that, no, not even for her own brother's life."
Between The Heavens, a Trial of Faith: Chapter 18, Wakes of the Water Goddess
Harry's messy hair fell across his brow. As he dismounted Shadow, he crept low to the ground, avoiding the fatal blows of the Whomping Willow. Carefully he pressed the notch, and the tree lay dormant.
"Lumos," he whispered, and like the first day of creation, there was light where there had been none before. And as he gazed around, he noticed that the Willow appeared to be slightly different than it had been before.
"Good evening, Mister Potter," a voice said quietly in front of him, and raising the nova of light, Harry gazed, for the first time in over a year, the face of the man partially responsible for his parents deaths.
"Pettigrew!" Another silouette appeared from the shadows, "where are your manors? Mister Potter has just had a trying day, and a long journey, please, join us." The snake like eyes of Lucius Malfoy matched his hair, slicked back, like his son's, it could have been a portrait of Draco, just two and a half decades older.
No sooner had Malfoy offered his hospitality, had a chair slipped underneath Harry, and as his knees buckled, he could feel ropes binding his ankles and wrists. Cutting into him like venom.
"I had the pleasure of meeting your aunt," Malfoy's lips pursed, extraordinarily like Snape's, "not long ago. She's a bit fragile, bad temper, and a foul mouth, of course," he continued, "her family was foul enough, but she'll share the same fate as that of her brother, Mister Potter."
Harry cocked his eyebrow in slight confusion. If Malfoy felt that Harry would be angered by such insults towards Aunt Petunia, he was sadly mistaken, but some lingering feeling told Harry that Voldemorte knew better than that.
"My aunt," Harry said quietly, "doesn't have a brother, unless of course you consider Uncle Harold, her brother-in-law..." his voice trailed off, trying hard to read Malfoy's expression, though he seemed not so surprised by the remark, on the contrary, he appeared as to not have heard it at all.
"Oh, I remember her, I remember her very well," Malfoy leered, "I cannot explain to you, Potter, what a pleasure it was for me to kill her best friend, to watch Sam cry in pain, to watch her burn at my very wand, and just knowing that she was watching this all, just knowing that from that point on, the image of Sam's death and my wand would be branded on the interior of her skull, but I can show you." And slowly, Malfoy took his wand and raised it delicately to his temple, and a waterfall of silver liquid seeped from it into a glass bowl lying on the flour. He bent down, and with a surprising amount of effort, lifted it from the ground.
"Look in, Mister Potter," Malfoy drawled, "and see what your aunt was before fifteen years of exile."
Hermione's voice popped into his thoughts, or perhaps it was the voice of reason. "Careful, Harry," it hissed, "these men are not your allies, they want to harm you – HARRY DON'T!" Curiosity had, yet again, caught up with the voice of reason, and silenced it.
Swirling silver began to play softly in tune to Harry's arms and legs, and soon what had once been a glass bowl, was becoming the grounds of Hogwarts.
"How'd you find the OWLs?" A skinny, fair skinned, and slick hair asked, Harry twitched, uncomfortably, he was very conscious of the fact that this was Malfoy's memory, and he was no where to be seen, it was just the girls and, what looked suspiciously like the imprint of a body sitting cross-legged on the grass only meters away from them.
"Oh, Sam," the second girl whispered. Her voice was sweet, soft, but it had a slight demand of authority. "Failed the lot of it, I suspect."
Sam looked unpleasantly amused, "Micca," she giggled, something about her voice was irritating to him, "I bet you did better than I did when I was in my fifth year, God, you wouldn't believe the look my brother-"Micca gave an uncomfortable groan, but Sam appeared not to have noticed, "-gave when he saw the results, he almost had my head."
"Yes, well, that's the price you pay for wanting to be an Auror with a brother who's a Death Eater, I mean, I'm thinking either way he'll have your head."
Sam scowled, "Severus isn't like that, Michelle Daniel Potter, and you know it, he'd probably be a bit more pleasant towards you if your brother didn't try and feed him to the Giant Squid every time he lost a Quidditch match."
Harry looked at Micca, and then at Sam, and sure enough, Sam could have definitely have been some type of relative of Snape's, her nose even had a feminine curled hook to it. And Micca, now he recognized her, she looked, maybe slightly more innocent, but besides that, she was the spitting image of his Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher.
Harry looked around, and saw that other students had gathered around them, talking amongst themselves. He saw his father, Sirius, Remus and Peter standing within listening distance to the pair of girls, and then he saw the imprint in the grass begin to move.
A swirl of silver erupted from the Pensieve, and suddenly Harry was in a dark dungeon.
"Traitor!" Spat Voldemorte, "blood traitor!" He paced vigorously around, "young Miss Snape, Auror if I heard correctly."
"You fucking Nazi!" Sam yelled as loudly as she could, turning around to meet the eyes of every Death Eater. "All of you, purifying the race of Wizards, you're no better than Hitler!"
Harry saw the young faces of Death Eaters that he had seen in the Graveyard in his fourth year, and he saw older faces that he knew would parish within their own heads, in the walls of Azkaban years later.
"Calm yourself, Snape," Malfoy hissed, "tell us the whereabouts of your brother, and we will let you leave, unscathed and unharmed."
"If you think I am going to fucking sell out my brother, then you have another thing come!" Sam spat in his face.
"Manors," Lucius whispered, "Crucio."
Harry recognized and empathized the pain that Sam was feeling at this very moment. Her eyes closed shut, and he knew that she was praying for death.
"You ruddy basterd!" Michelle came bursting through the door, she looked as though she hadn't aged a day, and yet the anger seeping out of her eyes was astonishing.
"Potter," Malfoy said happily, "you can join your friend, and then we will just have your brother to add to our collection of foolish Potters."
"You will not touch me," she whispered, meeting his eyes, "and you will not kill HER," she pointed her wand at Sam, and she hovered up above the ground, the agony and pain clearing from her eyes, before dropping to the ground.
"Micca," Sam said from her slumped body position on the ground, "get out of here, you're just sixteen, you aren't even finished school yet."
"Micca?" Lucius said, sliding some hair behind his ears, such a lovely pet name, did Black give it to you?"
Michelle stared at him, and closed her eyes, "leave him out of this, Lucius," she whispered.
"Oh, but Micca," he said, drawling, "we both know that if his ickle belle is in trouble, he'll come," Lucius hissed the last two words, "and imagine this, so will James, and then we will have four people closest to Dumbledore all dead!"
Harry withdrew from the Pensieve, for he did not wish to see what was about to happen. He did not want to find out whether or not his dad and Sirius had shown up, and he did not want to see how Sam died.
"Does it disturb you," Lucius hissed near his ear, "that you needn't have lived with muggles your entire life. That Michelle knew Sirius was innocent, and had she simply just told that to Dumbledore, Sirius Black might have been cleared of all charges, that it was she that caused the death of your parents by betraying them. You've heard Black's side of the story, about Pettigrew, but Michelle knew all this, she knew that Peter was a part of the enemy, for she had seen him there, amongst the Death Eaters, she KNEW Harry Potter, and she didn't tell your dad this when he confided in her that he was going to use Peter as a Secret Keeper instead of Black."
Harry shook his head, it didn't make sense, unless Michelle was a Death Eater as well, but Dumbledore would have known this, and he would not have employed her. If he could not trust Dumbledore, then there was no hope.
"You filthy liar," Harry seethed.
"Think I'm telling you some far fetched tale, do you Potter? But the truth is, Michelle was too relieved to hear that Sirius was not going to be in mortal danger, she would not jeopardize that, no, not even for her own brother's life."