Shimei: Thanks.

Night-Owl123: Thank you, I'm glad you liked it!

Firanza: Thank you for the compliment, here is the update.

KittenRebecca: Thanks for reviwing. As for Dumbledore…well…all I'm saying is that you've seen him already. :P

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All my reviewers, I'm so honored that you all reviewed. Meanwhile, I'm getting very, very nervous. As I stated earlier, this is a finished fic I wrote a while back…and, well, I'm afraid I didn't put that much thought and energy into it, and the ending is…well…I'm afraid you won't enjoy it…now that I know people are seriously reading this I feel really guilty because I think you deserve a better effort. Meanwhile, though, I really have limited time. So, er, would you prefer fast updates and the original version or slower updates but a better story? PLEASE let me know!

Chapter 9:

Lying on the bed, Harry was fully concisions, but he kept his eyes shut. Finding Severus, letting him forgive his killings, his betrayal of Master had become the thing that most occupied his mind that realizing even Severus had turned from his shattered him.

"Harry?" Severus called so gently that Harry opened his eyes.

"Look, I don't want to bother you," he began uncomfortably. Then why are you here?

"You are most kind, but as I am quite alright, you can fire away," he replied politely.

Harry stretched and sat up on his bed; he felt much better physically, but his mental state was still an agony. He opened the windows with a flip of his fingers and felt the refreshingly cool night air.

"How is your wound?"

"Almost healed I should think," laughed Harry, "and as I did not have the pleasure, could you kindly tell me who gave me that blow?"

"It was Burr, though you must not blame his rashness, having his sister and niece killed and all…" Severus said the words in a strange tone, and his lips trembled.

So I killed his sister, poor man, how many more like him will come?

Harry shook his head gravely, "Severus, you hurt me dearly; you know I wouldn't blame him for such things."

"Sometimes I really wonder if I shall ever get to know you."

"If you don't, then who does?" Harry looked up to him, the play-acting gone from his voice, "Tell me, Severus. Tell me who I am even if I am just an evil little vile creature!"

"If I knew, I would have made up my mind a long time ago."

"Look Severus, I've been thinking about myself ever since I left Master…and I think that I wouldn't have liked killing even without you. It's not about good or bad, I simply have a physical repulsion to it. But then, I also have to suffer as much pain if I disobey Master…that was why I ran away, I didn't know what to do…you don't know how sick I got when I first killed…that woman, and his child…their faces haunt me."

Severus did not trust himself to speak.

Harry sighed, "So what are you going to do with me?"

Severus knew his choice then: he would not trouble the boy's heart deeper with that secret, and he would not hold it against him. He inhaled deeply, "Harry, you are not evil, you are not like them. You are not bound to the Dark Lord, choose a life for yourself."

Harry was stunned at the answer he sought so long after, almost disbelivingly. Severus looked at him, the killer of his daughter and grandchild, flesh of his own flesh, but the hate was gone. "Harry," when he spoke again, his voice was calm, "You must leave now. I don't care where you go, and I know you won't go back to Him so technically I'm doing nothing against my kingdom…but you must leave, for even though I may have believed in your humanity, most others don't."

"And where am I to go?" he smiled bitterly back at him.

Severus knew he would never be able to live as a normal boy, to start a life anew. Instead he snapped, "And since when has self-pity taken over you? I've gotten my own head to risk, too. So be swift."

Harry rode on the horse Severus had provided him; he didn't know where to go. And as Rhiamon was the only city he knew, he decided to go to the capital. And there was another reason: he longed the strange one-eyed woman he had met; he wanted to know more about his own origin.

Again he found himself wandering alone the Bronze Walls of Rhiamon. Nothing had changed around here, but there were few people now. A depression had settled in that carved the shadow of war at every place in the kingdom. As if waiting for him, he found her; standing at the spot that was exactly where he had first saw her.

"I…" Harry didn't know how to start.

"So you are wondering who you are, Harry. You look just like your father."

Harry did not ask how on earth she managed to know his name; he had expected such wonders with her all along. "You knew my father?"

"Yes, he was just a little older than you are now when I saw him the first time, I remember him vividly: holding his first child, his grey eyes full of fear and awe…for I had told him his own fate as candidly as I did yours."

"Who was he, what happened to him?"

"He killed with his wife, Lars. Did I tell you that? That's the name he planned to name you."

Harry felt strange; he was Harry, and he felt no connection with that name at all, "What about me? Why wasn't I killed?"

"The Dark Lord sensed the power in you, though he hardly guessed who you really were. He thought he could use you, and he did make sure that you are forever bound to his servitude by bathing you in the Dark River and performing an ancient ritual."

"So that's where the pain comes from…" and before he finished his sentence, it came, commanding him to kill the woman before him. Harry rolled on the ground, blinded by the pain. No, I won't. You cannot control me. I will not kill her! The pain retreated, but his ears were filled with that drawing tone again, "Harry, listen to me, you are my most faithful servant…you always obey…" It bound him, making him feel extremely happy at the thought of carrying out that great being's will. Harry realized fearfully that despite himself, his trembling hand went for his sword. He felt himself gather the power, ready to kill. He knew there was no way he could stop himself; he was His, after all. Just then a thought lighted in his head. Yes, it must be the only way. If someone must die, better me than her. You will never have me! With that he gave in a little deliberately and drew his sword. But instead of striking a fatal blow to the old woman, he drove it at himself.

The sword stopped inches before striking him, Harry panted and sat down.

The old woman was as calm as ever, "What happened?"

Harry sighed, "Well, just as I was about to kill myself I realized that I was doing what I wanted to do. And as I was no longer under his control, I thought it wise to save my life for later use."

She smiled, "Well done."

"But…are you sure that Ma…uh…the Dark Lord doesn't know who I am?" remembering his speech four years ago, he added, "You know, about my being the one…"

The old man's voice was sad and genuine, "I wish I could say that…"

"But how can it be, I mean the prince…"

"Prince Neville is indeed a very powerful young man, but he was never confirmed by the Mirror. He is unusually gifted with the power, but not to the extend of being the one."

"The mirror? The Mirror of Awena? Then he knew! Because I was told to steal it four years ago."

"Yes, it turns golden at the sight of the one."

"Why didn't you explain things last time? Then I would not have given him that mirror" Harry asked sulkily, yet he knew he was not ready four years ago.

The woman seemed to being guessing Harry's thoughts, for she merely smiled.

Finally Harry murmured, "But I can't…I know nothing about this place and, and its people…"

"Lars…"

"No, Harry." Harry replied quietly. Their eyes met, and finally the old woman nodded. They spoke no more. Harry knew she wouldn't tell him any more information (a bad habit of those seers, they liked to drop just half the information and keep you in the dark); yet he should be able to find out about his parents from other sources since they were obviously of some importance. For now, though, he bade his farewell and rode; he knew where fate would lead him now.