Disclaimer: Everything belongs to J.K Rowling
Chapter 16: My Purpose
My hand clenched the hold of the cup as hard as possible. If I wouldn't have been as disoriented as I was due to the travel I would have seen how white and void of blood the hand was.
When we finally landed I stumbled and was on the verge of falling when Cedric caught me.
"Thanks mate."
Cedric only nodded but kept his wand at the ready as he surveyed the surroundings. It was not at all what I expected, we were in a graveyard. A graveyard which looked like it hadn't seen much maintenance the last few years, or decades. Moss was rampant and the names of the gravestones obscured.
"They really nailed the creepy vibe," Cedric muttered quietly.
I didn't answer, there was a small prickling in my forehead which made me wince. Something was wrong.
"I don't think this is part of the task," I whispered hoarsely as a cloaked figure appeared behind Cedric. "Cedric! Watch out!"
A jet of green light burst from the man's wand and Cedric just about managed to jump out of the way.
"What the hell?" Cedric shouted and took cover behind one of the gravestones.
The cloaked figure now turned his attention to me, but I reacted quicker and fired two spells at him which he effortlessly blocked with a shield. Cedric appeared from behind a gravestone and assisted me in fighting the unknown assailant.
The man, or woman, sidestepped or dodged most of our spells without concern. Every time he fired off a spell or two of his own, we both had to do our best to shield ourselves. A growl of frustration came from the man and he stopped using curses with jets the colour of blue and red, now they were green.
The more I had to throw myself out of the way and the more spells I fired, my breaths became more laboured and my burned arm throbbed more and more. Cedric didn't fare much better, sweat was gleaming across his entire face and his breathing was erratic.
Then it happened, all of a sudden, it felt like someone had taken a burning knife and shoved it inside my forehead. I fell to my knees with a scream of pain, clutching my forehead.
"What is ha…." Cedric never finished his sentence because a burst of livid green light struck him square in the chest.
It felt so anticlimactic; Cedric just fell to the ground with a low thudd. There was no blood, there was no wound, if I hadn't seen the spell collide with him, I would never know that he would never think another thought.
I stared at Cedric's lifeless body and waited for him to stand up again. Stand up again and fight. That he would never again do so didn't even cross my mind.
The cloaked man now towered over me and the pain in my scar grew even bigger, it felt like someone was ripping my head in two pieces. Black spots appeared in front of my eyes but the red light flew at me to the welcomed darkness.
-()-
My stomach hurt, my right leg hurt, my left leg hurt. My arms hurt and my head hurt. Come to think of it, I couldn't really think of any place where I did not feel any kind of pain.
I shook my head to rid myself from the fogginess of sleep. Then I remembered what was going on.
I squirmed and fought against the ropes holding me. A big cauldron was standing but a metre or two away from me, a liquid darker than the night inside. I could see my own reflection on the surface and it suddenly became obvious why everywhere hurt.
I had more cuts and burns than I could count, I looked more like a dead man than a living man. I glanced at my wrists and legs, they were littered with scrapes and bruises. More than one could possibly count.
"There is no point resisting," the cloaked man spoke with amusement in his voice. "The more you fight, the tighter they will get."
I stopped churning against the ropes as I actually felt them get tighter. Something about the voice was familiar but I couldn't place it. I tried to think of a way to get out of wherever I was but something was holding me back. It felt like someone had put a leash on my mind and hindered me from thinking clearly.
The man strided away from the cauldron with large steps and returned a minute later with a black bundle. Thousands upon thousands burning knives of suffering were thrown at my head like it was a dart board. I resisted the urge to scream in pain but my vision blurred from something I didn't know what it was.
The man chucked the bundle inside the cauldron where it was submerged in the liquid without a splash. I thought I saw something white inside the bundle but I could have been wrong. My eyes weren't eyes anymore, they were conduits for nothing but pain.
The bundle disappeared without a trace in the cauldron and my pain stopped abruptly in the forehead. My eyes were fixed on the cauldron in fear, it didn't take a genius to figure out who was behind this. But to what goal?
I was so focused on the cauldron that I almost missed the man levitating a couple of bones from a grave and throwing them inside the cauldron.
"Bones of the father, unknowingly given," the man muttered under his breath.
The potion now shifted to a navy blue shade and started boiling violently. The man pulled his left sleeve up and raised a knife he held in the other hand. My eyes widened as I realised what he was going to do.
"Flesh of the servant, willingly sacrificed," he muttered under his breath and I winced as he cut his entire left hand off.
I stared at the end of the arm where blood was pouring out. No matter what I did, I couldn't take my eyes off the spot where his hand had been attached but a moment ago.
I watched indifferently as the cloaked figure screamed in pain and as his hand disappeared in the concoction with a 'plump'. My hairs stood on end as I watched the scene transfixed, all these ingredients reminded me strongly of a ritual I had been compelled to do. Perhaps my master's theory was correct?
I wasn't given any more time to contemplate the subject because the man now turned to me and took a firm hold of my knife.
I tried to mutter an insult but nothing but wheezes would emerge from my throat. My parched throat. My throat was drier than the Sahara desert.
He made a deep cut in the palm of my hand and blood began pouring out. He held my hand over the cauldrons so drop after drop landed in the cauldron. The effect was instantaneous, the blue concoction turned a vibrant red and the boiling stopped completely.
The man kneeled in front of the cauldron and his entire body trembled on the ground. Several minutes went by without anything happening, the red potion was unmoving and there was no sign of it having worked. Did the man do something wrong somewhere?
"BANG!"
The cauldron suddenly dissolved in a loud explosion and the red potion evaporated in a cloud of smoke. I squinted through the smoke to make out a human-like figure in the middle of the smoke, where the cauldron had just been. Shivers ran down my spine as the smoke cleared and revealed a pale man in black robes.
It felt like I was watching a movie. It felt like I was reading about what happened in a book. It didn't feel like I was actually in a graveyard. Like I had been robbed of blood. Like I had just witnessed a creation of life.
If the monster before me could be called living.
A pair of shing red eyes stared at me. Pure, unadulterated rage was swirling inside those two orbs. I broke eye contact as the man raised his wand at me. A light the same shade as his eyes hit me square in the chest. The shroud of darkness descended upon me again.
-()-
I woke up with my face pressed against the damp grass. I could smell the dirt and feel the softness of the grass against my cheek. Everything else burned.
I tried to picture myself. How did I look lying there?
Did I look pathetic?
That was likely. I must look duller than the dullest blade. Smaller than the smallest infant. Weaker than the weakest wizard.
I opened my mouth and wanted to puke. All of those countless hours and it resulted in nothing.
Or well, it resulted in agony. Agony and anguish. Pain and powerlessness.
I felt something hard being thrown at my back. With a wheezing breath, I grasped it. The wood warmed me up but nothing could quench the freeze which had come over me.
A cold, cruel laughter echoed through the night. A loud and jarring cacophony.
I looked around and realised that I was surrounded on all sides by black robed men with white masks. I clenched my jaw and set my eyes on the source of the laughter. If it wasn't for the arms and legs, I wouldn't have called him human. His head had no nose, no ears and his eyes stood out as the only colour in his bone white complexion.
That was him.
The day I had hoped never would come, had come.
The day I knew would always come, had come.
Greeting me like a long lost friend after years apart.
"Hello Harry," he greeted warmly. "How are you?"
I stood up and suppressed the countless needles who poked me, urging me to wince and scream. No, I would not.
"Quite well, Riddle." I spat out a chunk of blood. The red liquid shone against the dark, green grass. "Although it seems you can not say the same thing."
Voldemort sneered at me, "Lord Voldemort does not appreciate cheek. Crucio."
Faster than I could have imagined possible, a red light shot from his wand and struck me in the chest.
My skin was being ripped off my body. I was being burned alive. Someone poured lava over my body.
All at the same time, or at least it felt that way. I screamed at the top of my lungs but the pain just seemed to intensify. Just as I thought I was going mad, the pain disappeared.
I almost moaned in pleasure. Feeling nothing was beautiful.
The soreness wasn't gone but I pushed myself to a standing position again.
Voldemort stood unmoving in front of me and I stared him in the eye defiantly. My wand felt slippery in my grasp, my palms were wet.
One last stand against the lord of the dark. It was too soon. I had failed.
I would die before I admitted that I failed, not to him. Not to anyone.
"I will show you all that this boy is nothing compared to Lord Voldemort. But first I would like to ask him something." Voldemort smiled in my direction, but it looked more like an twisted grimace. His new visage was clearly not designed with smiling in mind. "Do you know how you survived in '81, boy?"
Even if I had known the answer, I couldn't answer. "Doesn't matter. Perhaps I will tell you if you let me walk away."
Voldemort laughed out loud and chuckles could be heard from his followers around me. "You are in no situation to negotiate here, Harry. Tell me and perhaps I will let you live a little longer."
Knowing Voldemort, it would be more of a punishment to live longer. I looked at the gravestones around me. I wouldn't mind the embrace of death now.
"I won't tell you shit."
Voldemort chuckled at this. "If there is anything I want from you I can just take it. I was just hoping that you could help me from the goodness of your heart. Isn't that what you Gryffindors are all about?"
I remained silent and raised my wand in a defensive position. Voldemort ignored my change of stance and continued his monologue.
"I know the answer to the question already." Voldemort's intense gaze pinned me like a nail. "It is luck." Voldemort smiled, or grimaced, at me condescendingly.
So me and Voldemort had drawn the same conclusions.
I raised my eyebrows. "Imagine being so weak you get defeated by luck. Pathetic."
In retrospect, I would curse myself for talking back. The sensation of being burned alive at the same time as being flayed made me regret saying that.
I sent silent screams through the confines of my mind for help. Anyone, anyone. Anyone to help me from the shackles of the living.
"Please try to keep a civil discussion here, I am treating you with the utmost respect."
I bit back a remark that this conversation was anything but civil, I wasn't that keen on being tortured anymore.
"Anyway," Voldemort continued. "That small obstacle has been removed. So now you will die and the prophecy shall be void."
The green light which flew from his wand like a pretty, little bird should have struck me. Somehow, I managed to raise my wand and send a pretty, little bird of my own. It exploded in a shower of red and green with his.
A translucent, golden line connected our two wands, with the green and red orb in the middle between us. Voldemort stared at the phenomenon with a raised eyebrow but shrugged and began pushing the orb towards me.
I had no idea what was going on or what the orb would do but even I understood that I didn't want that thing near me. I pushed as much power I could into the spell, pushed myself as hard as possible.
Voldemort remained unphased and the orb grew closer and closer to me every second that went by.
I have to do something.
Survive, Harry. Only survive.
No matter the cost.
What have I learned over the past year?
Not much, it seemed. Except one thing. One strategy. One philosophy which had saved me once.
I ripped my wand out of the connection and the golden line disappeared in a cloud of gold. Before Voldemort could attack me, I sent the purple inferno of flames in Voldemort's direction. I must have taken him by surprise because he had to quickly erect a shield and he disappeared behind the cloud of violent, purple flames.
My eyes scanned the circle of robed men and found a shining cup behind a man with long, blonde hair sticking out from under his robe.
"Accio Triwizard Cup," I whispered and wanted to cheer as the cup flew into my welcoming hand.
A faint scream of frustration could be heard as I was tugged away from the graveyard.
I could still hear it when I landed. Only that it wasn't my ears who heard it anymore.
-()-
Harry and Cedric grabbed the cup in a synchronised movement and they were teleported away instantaneously. It felt like my ear drums were on the edge of shattering as all hell broke loose in the stand. The entire Hogwarts section exploded like a firework on New Year's Eve.
"Hogwarts! Hogwarts! Hogwarts!" was shouted by our school in unison. I could have sworn that even Malfoy participated a little.
Beauxbatons' and Durmstrang's sections were dull and quiet as they had been for the last hour. Both of their champions got bested by one from Hogwarts. Ron had said this proved that Hogwarts was the best school.
I didn't think it was that simple, Harry had clearly lost for once. Pure luck saved him again. If it had been anyone else than my best friend, I would feel envious at his constant success with no preparation.
Although, to be fair, he had seemingly prepared a lot for this task. He had done things I couldn't even consider, that spell with purple flames didn't look like anything a fourth year should be able to do. Or a seventh year, for that matter.
The cheering receded quite quickly and everyone waited for the champions to appear in silent anticipation. Ron was beaming next to me, looking at Dean and Semaus who were swaying and singing a…dramatic song. I gave them a disapproving look, those lyrics were not meant to be heard by eleven year olds.
A frown appeared on my features when I cast a look towards the centre of the podium where the champions were supposed to appear. The crux was that they didn't appear. Not after a minute, not after two.
I could see Dumbledore getting to his feet from his seated position in the judges' box. He was in deep discussion with Professor Snape and Professor Moody. They were too far away for me to hear what they were saying. But even Ron understood that something was wrong because the smile drained off his face like someone had pulled the tap. I could see Ron swallowing deeply and looking around, the sentiment that something had gone wrong seemed to have spread. It was eerily quiet in the stands now, where chants and cheers had resounded a minute ago was now complete, desolate silence.
Whispers broke out in the stands as a group of ten in red robes made their way towards the arena quickly. My hairs stood on end and I felt a cold shiver run down my spine. Me and Ron shared a look, he didn't say anything but I understood.
It felt like I was falling. Why were the aurors here?
What was going on?
I scanned the stadium to find a palette of emotion. Some seemed slightly concerned, others amused. Malfoy uncharacteristically frowned. How I wanted to capture this moment, Malfoy frowning over Harry's wellbeing. Harry's wellbeing kind of took precedence over gloating against Malfoy.
Ron grabbed my hand and gave it a squeeze. "He'll be fine. He always is," Ron whispered in my ear. He sent me a comforting smile which I returned, but it was forced. At some point, Harry's luck would run out. I wanted to scream in frustration, Harry's life was in danger and there was nothing I could do about it.
The red robed men entered the maze swiftly, only one female remaining behind to converse with Dumbledore. Next to Dumbledore stood McGonagall, Snape and Moody who all looked very concerned. Or as concerned Snape could look when Harry was the subject of concern.
It was late June but I was freezing all over, the sun was far down the horizon but it felt as if someone had sucked all the warmth from the world. I briefly wondered if the dementors had somehow returned to Hogwarts, but I vanished that thought quickly. It was a ludicrous theory.
The minutes came and went and Dumbledore disappeared inside a tent where a bright light was shining through the cracks. What was he doing there? Was he trying to find Harry?
The crowd was just about falling back into conversation and life instead of quiet waiting when a bright blue light shone from the podium. Everyone scrambled to get and look and Dumbledore burst out from the tent with his wand drawn. I felt goosebumps from it.
I could see no trace of the whimsy headmaster who sang the school anthem by himself.
The image of the podium would forever be imprinted in my mind. Harry stood at the podium for a few seconds. It was hard to make out the details as far away as I was but he had his eyes closed.
His robes hadn't looked that well when he disappeared but they had received some additional damage since then. He swayed on the platform for a few seconds before Dumbledore reached him. He took his shoulders and scrutinised him.
Harry looked completely lost where he stood, like he didn't recognise Dumbledore. The stands were deadly quiet, not a soul moved. Not a finger twitched.
"He's back," Harry said with a voice laced with…fear.
Harry didn't feel fear.
My eyes widened, it felt like someone had poured a bucket of ice water down my back.
"Voldemort is back."
-()-
Familiarity.
The feeling flowed through me like a calm river under the sun.
The sun was shining in through the windows of the hospital wing when I woke up, I almost wondered if the windows were charmed to do so. I tried to sit up in my bed but my entire body shook in exhaustion and pain.
My mind couldn't form thoughts.
Delacour. Voldemort. Moody's imposter.
Moody had taken me to his office after the task and essentially confessed to having been the one to send me to him. Then he meant to finish the job but Snape had burst through the door and disarmed him. Some veritaserum and the entire truth was soon revealed.
I chuckled bitterly, which was a bad idea since my ribs were prickling painfully. The school was supposed to be the safest place in Britain but this was the fourth year in a row in which a severe security breach had taken place. How could Dumbledore not have realised what was going on?
How could I not have seen what was going on? I felt the urgent need to vomit. Cedric had been safe and I had still brought him along. Brought him along to dinner with death, a meal that he had been forcibly fed. A meal which I hadn't eaten.
It felt strange lying in the bed here and feeling horrible. I had imagined lying in this bed after the third task with severe injuries. In my dreams, my thoughts had been those of pride and a sense of achievement. I had defeated Delacour as I wanted, but a lot more had been stuffed on my plate than I could stomach to eat.
The hinges of the entrance door to the hospital wing creaked gently and a grey beard appeared from behind. Now it was time for my annual discussion with Dumbledore. Of course the location was the hospital wing.
Dumbledore walked over to me briskly and sat down in a chair without a sound. His piercing blue eyes observed me gently for a few seconds. It made me feel like he could see my soul, did he know that I had a piece of Voldemort inside me?
Those blue eyes of his told me more than even he could hope to do with words.
He sighed deeply and rubbed his temples, he looked like he hadn't slept in a while.
"The tournament is finally over, so we may speak freely now, Harry."
The tournament was over.
The notion was laughable. How did it matter? How was anything over?
This wasn't a conclusion. This was a beginning. The beginning of what?
My life, it seemed. Or what my life was supposed to be.
"You explained to me what happened yesterday, but I have some questions, and hopefully some answers."
Even if I had felt like talking to the man, I couldn't.
"The phenomenon connecting your wands is called 'priori incantatem'. Should you have let the globe of light reach either you or Voldemort, the effects of the wand's recently fired spells would have appeared. Priori incantatem happens when two brother wands meet. Since you share a core…" Dumbledore trailed off, I got what he wanted to say.
"I would like to wait with your second question for a second. There is a question I would like to ask you." Dumbledore said with a small smile.
"Ask away," I said nonchalantly, ignoring how my face wanted to wince at the pain of talking. I surprised even myself that coherent words were formed.
"I'm afraid I'll be rather blunt here, Harry." Dumbledore shot me an inquisitive look. "Where did you learn the spells you used in the fight against Ms. Delacour?" Dumbledore smiled at me in an attempt to set me at ease. "I can humbly acknowledge that my knowledge of magic is above that of the average wizard. But quite frankly, I have never seen the spells you used yesterday before."
I wasn't walking on thin ice. I was walking on water. There was nothing to stop me from falling into the freezing water.
"I found the answers in a book," I responded as I looked him in the eyes. Not looking someone in the eye was a sign of lying was something I had actually read somewhere.
"I know that I haven't been there for you this year Harry, but please, you can trust me."
"Can I though?" I snapped frustratedly. "You have let me face Voldemort three times by myself and you want me to trust you?"
"I know it's a lot to ask for."
"Too much," I bit out venomously.
Dumbledore only smiled at me sadly. "I hope that I can rekindle your trust in me somehow." Dumbledore's expression brightened. "Which brings me to my next question."
I gestured for him to continue, which I regretted since the burns at my left arm were far from healed.
"In the light of your recent academic aspiration, I would like to offer you some private lessons."
My eyes widened at the offer, I had been expecting inquiries about the task, Voldemort and my newfound abilities, not that. I composed myself quickly. "What would that mean?"
"There are things you need to know, so I'll teach them to you," Dumbledore explained simply.
"How very not vague," I returned with a roll of my eyes. "Care to actually tell me what you're going to teach me?"
Dumbledore frowned. "I don't want to say too much yet. But there are some skills you need for what's ahead."
"And what is ahead?" I asked in nothing but a whisper.
"That brings us to the question you asked me yesterday."
"The prophecy Voldemort spoke of," I remembered. I had asked him yesterday about the throwaway comment from Voldemort. Dumbledore's face had gone ashen immediately. He had excused himself quickly and disappeared.
"Yes. It is as you guessed. It concerns you and Voldemort."
"What does it say?"
"Prophecies are…difficult to interpret and understand, but it goes like this."
"The one with the power to vanquish the Dark Lord approaches… born to those who have thrice defied him, born as the seventh month dies…and the Dark Lord will mark him as his equal, but he will have power the Dark Lord knows not…and either must die at the hand of the other for neither can live while the other survives."
Under the gaze of those blue eyes it finally dawned on me. I had lived through the night for too long. Dawn was here, finally. This was my purpose. It finally made sense.
This was my life.
-()-
It felt like me and my master stood across from each other for an eternity.
"I'm sorry, Harry. I'm sorry."
"No, I am sorry."
Rowena closed her eyes, exhaled slowly.
"I didn't keep my promise," I said in nothing but a barely audible whisper. "I wanted to die."
-()-
"I want to do it," I declared as I sat down in my purple armchair two days later.
Rowena frowned at me and arched a brow questioningly. "What, exactly, do you want to do?"
"I want to get rid of the horcrux." I looked her in the eyes with determination.
Rowena raised her eyebrows with an amused expression. "And what is the reason for this sudden change of heart?"
"You know why."
Rowena froze in her movement before she fixed me with a piercing stare. "I don't see why you want to do the ritual now when you didn't before."
I gave her an incredulous look. "Isn't it rather obvious? It is my destiny to end him. I can't do that if I have this thing inside of me."
"My question still remains," Rowena countered with a slight tilt of her head. "What did you think we were doing here before? Preparing for you to become Minister of Magic?"
"I became your apprentice because I needed to survive. Knowing shit helps with that," I ground out angrily.
Rowena raised her eyebrows. "So next year, you don't want to continue this arrangement?"
"Of course I would want to, I've learned more here than Hogwarts ever could."
"But why did you want to learn more before he returned?"
I frowned at this. "Because there will always be someone who's out to get me, that's the reality."
"Okay. So you never thought that Voldemort would one day be one of those people?"
"I knew he was still alive so I always assumed I had to fight him," I admitted. "But that is irrelevant."
"No. It is a crucial point, actually. You're saying that everything has changed now that your destiny is written in the stars and your path is paved. But it clearly hasn't."
I threw my hands up in the air in annoyance. "Of course it has. I. HAVE. TO. KILL. HIM. OR. DIE."
"You said that you expected to fight him before you knew of the prophecy though."
"The difference is that now, I have to. Before, it was a choice."
"So you're saying that you would have chosen to not fight him before the prophecy?"
"NO! Of course not," I roared in frustration. I stood up and felt the distinct urge to destroy something.
"So you were going to fight him before and you're going to fight him now, what has changed?"
I paused in my internal rantings and looked at her. That was actually a good point.
Rowena took my silence as a que to continue. "What I am trying to say, Harry, is that your nature is to help people. You would never stand on the sidelines when people you care about get hurt. The prophecy won't get fulfilled because of some divine intervention, but because the ending foretold is the logical conclusion between you and Voldemort."
I plumped down heavily in my armchair and took in her words. It was true I guess. If Hermione or Ron or Sirius or anyone was in danger, I would want to save them. That was the right thing to do. Voldemort would put them and everyone in Britain in danger, so I would have to fight him either way. Prophecy or not.
"I understand," I declared solemnly after a few seconds.
"Do you? I'll ask the question again then. What has changed?"
I met her calm, purple eyes and let out a long breath. "I guess I've realised that my life won't have the 'happy ever after'."
Rowena's eyes shone. "How so?"
"Every time I've fought someone, it is with the hope that I'll remove some evil from the world. So that when I get older, I won't have to get rid of evils. I can just live a calm, happy life. With a wife that I love and eventually, kids." I shook my head tiredly. "But that simply isn't meant to be for me."
Rowena's neutral, stone mask shattered at my words and she gave me a genuine, sad smile. "It can happen even if you go through with the ritual, you know. You can still be…happy."
I snorted in amusement. "Not bloody likely. No, whoever becomes my wife will resent me, and rightfully so. I will put the chain around her neck, lock it and throw away the key. She should hate me, and I'm fine with that."
Rowena opened her mouth to say something but closed it. She gave me a pained look. "You should value your happiness more. What is the point of winning if there is nothing to win for?"
I shook my head. "I'm fine with emptying my vault of happiness. It's a shame that one unfortunate girl will get hers emptied as well." I took a deep breath. "But one inocent person's happiness can't be put over the fate of the entire nation. I will do what you told me, think with the brain, not the heart."
Rowena looked at me with a pained expression for a few long moments and I thought I saw a watery gleam in her eyes. She blinked and it was gone, perhaps it had never been there. "Always value your happiness, otherwise you will regret it. Trust me."
I rolled my eyes at her. "Why are you even arguing against me? You wanted me to do the ritual?"
Rowena stared me straight in the eye with another piercing stare. I could see her thinking.
"Fine. Let's do it."