Disclaimer: This idea belongs to me, but the entire Harry Potter universe belongs to none other than J.K.Rowling herself. I get no money by writing this. It's only a fanfiction and thus serves as an amusement to those who find it to be enjoyable.
Summary: Everyone has died. Everything Harry knew has been destroyed. Now, within the ruins of once world-know and appreciated Hogwarts, broken and dying, Harry waits for his death to come. Yet instead of that a new chance welcomes him and he is given the possibility of reversing the future. Yet nothing is free and all costs a prize that is equal to its importance. Harry has many choices, but only of them is the right one.
Warnings: beside the fact that I am from non-english speaking country and you may find some strange sentences, unusual words/spelling or bad grammar in general, there will be violance, blood, gore, angst and dark themes. Though no sex.
Pairings: none. At least not now. It's too early for any. But when the right time comes…who knows.
A/N: I highly apologize for any mistakes you may find in this. I did all of this myself and had no one to proof-read it after me so the chances of stumbling upon a mistake are quite high. Also…I'd appreciate it if you shared your opinions about this with me via reviews. In other words….review! Critique is welcomed. But I do hope that anyone that tries to criticize/flame this at least writes a review without any grammar/mistakes mistakes…or otherwise I'll just laugh it off and ignore it. Thank you. Also…spell-checking this thing took me some time and by the time I was done, it had been too late. So, be as considerate, and try to overlook some petty mistakes you may find .
Within the shadows of one's mind
Chapter one
My Lullaby
It no longer had any meaning. No purpose, no aim, no nothing. Empty like a void. And the world seemed so numb. Filled with nothing but pain and sorrow, compelling all other beings to feel the same, cruel, chilling emptyness spread across their body and infect their minds with slow numb-killing pain. One that can not be stopped as its roots reach much further than any human mind could possibly comprehend. Such was the way Harry Potter felt as he stumbled across the destroyed battlefield, dragging his body along the ashen earth, small drops of crimson blood falling onto the dead ground below with each step he took, and with blind fury, he pushed his body to limits, ignoring those screeches his mind gave as the blade dug deeper into his side. The war had taken many victims. Far too many to count. Far too many to bury. To remember. To cry after.
Harry gasped, bending over while trying to catch his breath, small jolts of pain sending shivers down his spine though not in pleasure, as his face was twisted in a grimace, and he barely resisted the urge to clench his hands. For Harry no longer could do such thing, with one hand numb and bleeding and other lacking piecies of meat. Harry Potter could no longer be considered as normal human being, with the hollow epxression on his pale, thin face, sunken eyes that shone with unnatural green light, and blood that oozed slowly from the scar on his forehead, running down his sordid face, onto his ragged clothing that resembled a rag, filfthy and dark, almost ripped apart, and onto the ground that seemed to close down on him. He tripped and fell.
The boy gasped in pain, arching his back in agony, and with his only working hand, the left one, he reached for the sword that was stuck in his side, directly between his ribs, causing him bigger pain with each move he made, leaving his mind in cloudy numbness he couldn't afford.
He wasn't even eighteen, that boy, and yet, looking around the broken battlefield of what had once used to be Hogwarts, seeing those dead bodies that were beyond recognizition lay around, the dark mark, and not just one, shining brightly upon the dead victims below, illuminating their pale feautures in ethernal glow, Harry felt too old for this. Harry paused, sinking to his knees, strands of uncanny hair covering his eyes like a veil, and he breathed in the foul air, feeling the stench of blood and death all around him, knowing that not for much longer would he be forced into facing anything else. Long ago had passed those tortures, the toying and mind rape. Harry now knew, with calm and serene heart, that he would only face one and the very last curse by Voldemort. And knowing such fact filled him with something akin to happiness, though he wasn't really sure himself, as happiness was a thing he hadn't felt ever since he had lost Ron and Hermione. And then Lupin. And then Mrs Weasly and Mr Weasly and twins and….the rest. He smiled bitterly, the corners of his mouth turning into an ugly grin, as he, in his current situation, couldn't really do more than that, taking into considaretion his poor mental and physical state.
Harry Potter looked up at the darkened sky, sitting under it in a blessed silence. His fingers twitched and suddenly a pain started to course through his veins, stinging him in all places possible and reminding him of his current position and what was about to come. He welcomed it though, merely sitting there. His brows furrowed and he barely noticed the stream of blood that was cascading down his face, making him blink in irritation. He heard footsteps, many of them, people coming his direction, and even from the afar, he could feel their dark intentions and those ominous auras that had already seeped into the ground they walked upon, hushed voices and sounds echoing around the plain, abandoned field in a way that made Harry want to run for his life, to escape everything, to clench his teeth angrily and shout at them with all might and courage he could muster and then fight them, one-on-one, if necessary, and bring them down in the same, horrid way as they had done to his muggleborn friend Hermione, her parents, to Ron and his muggle-loving family. But he didn't.
Instead he rose to his feet, standing proudly in the middle of a place that would soon become his tomb, legs shaking in protest under the weight of his body, keeping his hands close to his body, and with left hand he reached under the hem of his battered robes and grasped his wand tightly. Immediately he felt his magic strengthen, but he calmed it down, knowing very well that any outburst in situation like that would be meaningless and even foolish. He turned to face them as they came, walking gracefully in their long dark robes, no masks hiding the smug expressions on their faces, and their leader walked as first, striding with deathly ellegance across the shattered and dead field, a cruel twisted smile upon his snake-like face, and Harry felt the first beginnings of a true fear take over. His body went rigid, muscles tensing in anticipation and his teeth clenched, and he blinked, the blood on his face having gone dry sometime during his thoughtful brooding while on the ground, and Harry closed his eyes, though not obediance.
"Tom," he grasped out with a voice so unlike his; cold and low, hoarse and laced with hardness he had never really heard himself use, and Lord Voldemort sneered venomously at him.
"Potter," he hissed slowly, stressing the word with such passion, one could mistake it with a lover's odd way of loving, and his red eyes widened maniacally. "We meet at last," Voldemort said and Harry noticed the slight twitch if his hands as he spoke; undeniably, he was shaking with the anticapation and hardly surpressing the urge to simply curse his mortal enemy, but Harry was sure that just for the sake of truely relishing the moment of having his worst enemy's life in his hands, Voldemort wouldn't kill him immediately. He was certain that the Dark Lord wold gave him a speech worthy of a true leader and winner and, naturally, he was right, as the moment Voldemort spoke, his loyal Death Eaters made a circle around Harry, preventing him from taking any possible escape routes. And Harry, on the other hand, had to surpress the urge to simply admit the fact that he was indeed not planning to escape from the current situation. For Harry Potter had fought long enough.
"For too long have you delayed your death, Harry Potter," the Dark Lord continued, a long, deathly-looking snake slithering humbly by his feet, and as it hissed at him, Harry understood those words. His body would be given to the faithful Nagini, except his head, which would be used as a grotesque trophy in Voldemort's new lair, a warning to anyone who would even dare to stand up against him. Harry found it strange that he didn't really mind having his body eaten and head used for deeds like that, as he, bluntly said, knew that as dead person, it wouldn't really matter to him. He only wished for a peaceful afterlife. He was so deep in thought, that he didn't notice as Voldemort's speech had turned unusually excited, now putting aside that fact that such thing was not to be expected from a cold meat like Tom Marvolo Riddle, a person generally known as Lord Voldemort.
Harry looked up, lifting his still young face proudly into the air, and was faced with a cruel and twisted smile that sent chills down his spine. He shivered under the force of Dark Lord's gaze and returned the look with his own power, and their powers clashed. Harry felt something tug at his consciousness and it was all warning he got before something broke past his mental barries and attacked his mind. He yelled and clutched his head with one hand while the other continued to passively hang by his body, and, using all might he could muster, he sent the Dark Lord back from the boundaries of his mind, setting up his shields yet again, and again as he felt the Dark Lord push against those once thick and strong shields. He felt it crumble under Voldemort's power and total helplessness overcame his body and soul as he watched them slowly break apart, small pieces of his mental wall disintegrating into a dust.
Voldemort then laughed, a high voice laced with cruelty that knew no limits, and those red eyes locked themselves onto Harry, piercing him with such force Harry nearly tipped on his own broken legs and fell down, though he managed to get a hold of himself, straightening himself, and he pushed into Voldemort's mind, using all knowledge from past few years of mindless fighting and questioning existence. And with a surprised look, he slipped past Voldemort's defences, though the feeling of that small victory lasted only few a split of a second before Voldemort threw him out as well, the part of his face where eyebrows should have been furrowing and he clicked his tongue, starring down at Harry sadistically. The sword that had impaled Harry before was now pulsating strongly for a reason that was unknown to him, sending his body into a state of awareness he didn't wish for.
"How do you like it, Potter, having the sword of Godric Gryffindor stuck in your body," the Dark Lord hissed with an almost interested look before he broke into a fit of insane giggling, his Death Eaters laughing along with him, though Harry noticed that their laughs seemed absently distant, as if someone had tuned them down on some accident, sort of, and he could now only hear some faraway hollow sounds that reminded him of laugh. He blinked, and he felt his vision go blurry. Then Voldemort spoke again. "I have to admit, Potter, that I am extremely keen on the curse I had placed on it," he paused and his eyes travelled down, onto the only part of the sword that could be visible; the hilt, for the blade had fully impaled his body out-and-out, leaving him wary and hurt, gasping in pain and writhing in agony. "How pitiful, Potter, that you can't even get it out, for the minute the blade leaves your body, the curse will set your body into a fire that will slow burn you alive." Harry crinked at this and unconsciously, he grabbed the hilt of the sword, running his fingers along the cold surface, and he felt flabbergasted to discover that the sword had turned hot, making his fingers twitch under the enormous heat it was emitting. Harry gasped.
"Just end it, Tom," he said with an empty laugh, cautiously avoiding to let anyone notice his weakness and fear, for to die being laughed at and humilitated was something he didn't want. Voldemort seethed at him but Harry didn't feel any kind of fear. He had known it for some time already, that the last time he would face him would be the time when only one sort of curse would be used, regardless of any events beforehand and after, and he was quite aware of the fact now, as devastating as it seemed, that the life had no meaning for him anymore, no place for home, no friends to welcome him, no lover to greet him, no home to return to. There was now nobody to celebrate him, to love him, or to simply hate him. The world had spit him out and only death was waiting. They had lost the war. The ministry – destroyed. St Mungo's – disappeared from the world. Hogwarts – burned down. Those had been the places he had once known, and even loved, for a certain part, but now Harry no longer knew any of it. They didn't exist. It was so sorrowful, so empty now, it had left him without the will to fight, without the will to live, and had made him into a black hole. Though even as a hole he had nothing to suck in. No happiness. No memories. No nothing.
His eyes watered. And he spoke, a voice that belonged to a lost part of himself, buried deep within the depths of his heart, strangely smooth and calm, even though his fingers were shaking and body slowly succumbing to the death.
"I wish..none of this had happened…I wish I could have the chance to change it…to return, to stop it all. From Sirius's death…I wish I could be given a choice to stop you, Tom, you loathesome bitch, for touching my friends, for wiping them out, for ripping me apart…."
"AVADA-"
"…I wish, Tom Marvolo Riddle," he was now shouting, face laced with a fury that made him look more like the teen he had used to be than the person he was now, and Voldemort's wand was poiting at him, the magic around them gathering around the tip of his wand," that I could have the chance to really kill you! You bloody filfthy bastard," he hissed," I wish to be given another chance!"
"- KEDAVRA!"
And tears strolled down his cheeks at last, after so many months of surpressing them, Harry felt content even as he saw the green light fly towards him, for the tears were the sign that he was still alive, broken, tattered, empty, but alive and a human. He closed them, his eyes, and through the lids he could see the green light move in slow motion, its strong magic drifting through the air, sucking the potent power from it, and Harry felt compelled to open his eyes yet again, and to see it hit him. It was only then when he opened them that he truelly realized what it meant to face death. It was beautiful, stunning, and so terrible, so goddamn terrible, loud and screeching, yet silky and smoothing, changeable like the weather in England, wild as any magical creature he had seen, and strong as the Dark Lord himself, as any Dark Lord that had ever walked upon the Earth, turning all doubts Harry had ever had into nothing but a poisonous dust that strangled him. It didn't hit him as he had thought it would, merely embraced him, enwrapping him within a chrysalis of green.
And then, as all others before had, and as others after would, Harry screamed at the top of his lungs. It was a pain beyond all imagination, beyond all human comprehension and it was far from what Harry had expected. No numb feelings, no sudden void, no blind darkness, but raw and savage pain, coursing through his veins and making his mind go insane. Maybe it was because he had survived the first killing curse and that was now the true aftermath of the scar on his forehead, or it just might have been the sword that was now brightly shining within him, filling him yet again with the annoying consciousness, but perhaps it was now too late to think about it, or to ponder over the consequences of such deeds, as Harry Potter had now other matters on his mind. He wanted to die, terribly and deeply. The curse was causing him to trash violently, limbs shaking in a spasm that made him loose all left control, and from within he felt himself being torn apart by its force. He heard some other voices scream and for a while they seemed astonished, to Harry's eyes, but in that moment he wasn't really sure that he was hearing anything. There was something wrong with the curse, as by all means he should have already been dead, but instead he was still struggling against its effects, within its firm grasp, fighting for something he wasn't sure about. And then Harry felt it.
The world was dissolving. One by one, all Death Eaters vanished into the thin air, followed shortly by the ground below, trees around, and dead bodies that had been his only companions for past few hours, until only Voldemort left, bright, red eyes widened furiously and with such ferocity, Harry felt the urge to run from that gaze. Dark lord's face remained there for few moments, and then it disappeared as well, and Harry was left alone in the world of darkness and many small lights that were so strong, it made Harry's eyes ache and sting. Eventually, he closed them, wishing for the death to embrace him at last, but when he opened them again, he was greeted by something so totally different and unexpected, that he dropped to his knees.
Until he realized that he was now indeed on his knees, but there was no sword stuck in him, no tattered and dirty clothes, but his old school robes, new and shiny, and, faintly, he recognized the room as the chamber of death, located in the Department of Mysteries, Ministry of magic, London.
"…what…" he didn't get to finish the sentence as a searing pain suddenly hit him square in chest, leaving him gasping for air and weak.
"…another choice…you have been given…for one does not know what awaits one on the very end of the road…for one can never have enough choices to choose from…that you have been given, Harry Potter…"
Then they started to appear; soft figures surrounded by shadows, some corporeal and some still lacking a regular shape, and the room was filled with many shouts. Harry recognized them very much, the memory still fresh in his mind as if it had happened just yesterday. He turned quickly, just to assure himself that he was not mistaken, and truely, there stood the Headmaster of Hogwarts school of Witchcraft and Wizardry, Albus Dumbledore, the shadows around him now forming his face, and Harry felt his heart race madly against his ribcage as the headmaster's face became visible; white and furious, the expression had always been engraved into his mind, and now, seeing it yet again, due to reasons to him unknown, Harry's knees bent under his weight, shaking, just as he had been about to stand up again.
"Dumbledore," Harry gasped, and a memory of seeing the face dead and empty awoke in his mind with a start and he jumped back to his feet, looking around the room with anticipation. And there, near the damn veil, fighting upon the dais, he spotted them; Bellatrix Lestrange and Sirius Black, their figures now both clearly visible and corporeal, and if it hadn't been for the shock, Harry would have loved to speed down to them, to throw his arms around the Sirius person, and to hug him, but somehow, the thought of seeing his long dead godfather only left him aching and unsure.
His hand outstretched and Harry mildly noticed that he could now move both of them.
"Siri-"
"…do you love him…do you love them all…Harry Potter," Harry frowned, hands falling back to his sides, and he calmed his mind, knowing now from his experience that voices like that could be both dangerous and unpredictable, even despite its smoothness and fatherly-like tone. So he didn't answer, simply choosing to watch all other figures get a normal shape that would resemble the true characters. Mad-eye moody, Tonks, Lupin..they had all died, surprisingly enough, Mad-eye going as first, and watching them again was as wicked as watching the headmaster stand behind him, frozen like in some trance, or more like a statue.
"…for years now, waiting and searching…only you have the true power to change this. All your knowledge..all is with you…all your pain…and suffering…you can change it well…change this face…and face your true self…"
Harry didn't have to wait for it finish as the room suddenly turned alive, the people in it now coming back to life, moving slowly at first, but then it all woke up entirely and Harry saw them all fight again, for the second time in his life, seeing the same scene replay before him, like in some sort of ugly movie, and with a horrible tug at his navel, he realized what was about to come.
"Harry, I'b sorry!" he heard Neville cry, his round face anguished as his legs continued to flounder," I'd so sorry, Harry, I didn'd bean do-"
"It doesn't matter! Just try to stand, let's get out of-"He had said that, he could remember those words on his tongue, and for a while Harry nearly said them again, but he stopped himself just in time.
"Forget it, Neville!" he yelled as he sped down, ignoring Neville's shouts of anguish and then relief as he noticed Dumbledore at last, with only one thought on his mind.
"Sirius!" A minute. He only had a minute or two before his godfather would get killed, and god damn whatever, had he been sent there just to watch his godfather die again. He didn't know what to feel, how to feel, whether to scream or to cry, or to laugh or simply go insane. He had been through many things and just before being sent..to past, he had been hit by the killing curse for the second time in his life. It was so unnatural, so abnormal, to be able to talk about it when no one else had even managed to survive it for the first time, not talking about other times, yet Harry didn't feel compelled to feel like someone else. jJst few minutes ago, he had been prepared to die, even wished for it, but now, that he saw his godfather again, moving and breathing, the smile upon his face as he taunted bellatrix, Harry couldn't hold onto those last bitter feelings he had felt, neither on the duty or fear.
"SIRIUS!" the death eaters had stopped dueling and were now trying to escape and Harry saw the fimiliar scene of a death eater being pulled by Dumbledore and still, even with all that experience, Harry knew that, indeed, Dumbledore had done it easily and effortlessly. But he didn't waste time thinking about it. He ran blindly towards Sirius and only when he reached the dais before Sirius started to taunt Bellatrix did he feel hope rise in his chest.
"Come on, you can do-"
"Sirius!" his godfather had now noticed him at last and Harry crossed the small distance between them with a jump, landing on Sirius and making them fall on ground, a red jet of light flying above their heads. Sirius looked mildly surprised and gave Harry one strartled, furious gaze, as if he was angry at Harry for endangering himself, yet grateful all the while, and their eyes locked and Harry saw the shock on Sirius's face. He couldn't comprehend it for a while, but then he realized what could frighten his godfather so much, beside having his godson risk his own life for him; Harry's bright green eyes held the wisdom and pain of a veteran and there was no childish innocence in them, only accumulated pain of horror of one who had faced many terrible things during life. And what scared his godfather the most, probably, was the immense radiance in Harry's eyes, one so totally unfamiliar to him, and Harry knew that when in his old world – if he could call it like that – people had gotten scared looking at his unnaturaly shiny eyes, then now they must have looked even scarier. Such was the consenquence of having too many dark curses placed on him and of having the Dark Lord influence him and his mind in all possible ways.
Harry suddenly felt a spell pass past them and he hissed. They had been to careless. Hastily, he stood up, and realized that Bellatrix had already fled. He saw her run the same way as before, deflecting Dumbledore's well-aimed spell, hurrying to get out of the room. Harry seether in anger, emerald eyes flashing angrily at the disappearing hem of Bellatrix's robe, seeing as no one was tailing her. It seemed more like that they were letting her go on purpose, perhaps clueless as to what or more like who was waiting for her to emerge just by the elevator, and Harry had to calm himself down. Everything was going too fast, he could still hear and see some spells flashing, and wizards trying to get from the spell Dumbledore had placed on them, and he felt something drip down. With great effort, Harry looked down and realized that he had started to bleed; the front of his robes was covered in blood in a place the second killing curse had hit him, and he could fainly recognize the others parts of his body that had been hurt before wake to their injuries, seemingly brought back to life as well, and his sides started to sting, his right hand slowly going numb and he felt it hang helplessly by his side. He cast a glance at Sirius who was watching it all with a mingled fear upon his youngish, once-handsome face. And then it all came down to Harry and he truelly realized what he had done; he had saved Sirius from a death, he had saved him.
With that only thought on his mind, he screamed loudly as his injuries opened in an angry pain and blood exploded from his body. Everyone in room stopped doing whatever that had had on their minds, and looked at him in fear and evident shock. Dumbledore turned even paler than he had looked before, and unconsciously his spell weakened, giving the Death Eaters a chance to escape, but none of them seemed to notice, as they all watched Harry bleed profusely, blood streaming down his face and body in small springs, quickly leaving him exhausted and depleted. It was a terrible pain, one Harry had wanted to avoid, one that had hit him full force, and he felt so extremely weakened and hurt. It was just too horrible, even unbearable to receive them all at once.
Then Harry fell down to his knees, body moving in slow motion, and he heard Sirius yell.
"Harry! No! DUMBLEDORE!" Sirius quickly caught him before Harry hit the ground, and cradled his head in his lap, nervous fingers touching Harry's face as if he couldn't believe what he was seeing, and mildly, his mind swimming with countless questions, Harry noticed that the headmaster had indeed come down to him, strolled past the benches gracefully, and was now sitting next to him. Harry gave some yelps of pain, and the worry on both men's faces was now more evident than ever. Faintly, he heard some hushed voices and whispers in the background, and recognized them as Mad-eye and Lupin's.
"Harry, Harry, can you hear me?" Dumbledore asked, looking down at Harry, and Harry hissed. He felt his scar sting and knew now very well what it meant.
"Professor…Voldemort…is here!" he gasped with great effort and Dumbledore gave him a startled look.
"Are you positive, my boy?" he asked carefully and Harry nodded, feeling his own blood ooze down to his mouth and he coughed, spitting it out, and Sirius growled.
"Dumbledore, Harry is-!"
"I know, Sirius," Dumbledore said gravely and stood up, casting everyone in the room a serius look," I daresay this is not a situation to gave warnings, yet I must warn you, Sirius, that the ministry officials and aurors will be coming any minute and unless you wish to get caught by that time and in the midst of this chaos, I suggest you escape," the headmaster said quietly but waited for no response, and immediately went for the way Bellatrix had gone, ignoring anyone as he strode past them and left the room, and through cloudy eyes, Harry saw Sirius bend down his head in something akin to shame, and worry, but then his godfather lifted his head proudly, and, greatly surprising Harry, took him into his hands, lifting him up bridal-style, Harry's head resting on the crook of Sirius's shoulder, while his hand hang loosely by him again. He felt content like that and the chasm that had been once there in his heart was now slowly disperging. Sirius was alive, he was alive. And Sirius was touching him, carrying him, and Harry felt so happy, so happy, he could sing and dance, hadn't it been for the fact that he was still severely bleeding. Oh, the joy.
"Remus, Moony!" Sirius shouted, and Lupin ran to him, giving Harry one checkup and he frowned at once.
"Sirius, what happened? No, wait, you have to run, the aurors will be here any minute and if they catch a glimpse of you-" he started frantically but his sentece stayed unfinished as Sirius cut him off.
"I won't leave Harry's side," he growled almost like the dog he could turn into, cradling Harry closer to his body and now Harry was sure that the front of his godfather's robes must have been wet by his blood, clearly giving his godfather a wilder look that only added to the fury on his face.
But Remus only nodded savagely and looked into Harry's eyes. He too must have noticed their unusual glow, as Harry assumed from the way his wary eyes widened, but he ignored it for the sake of the situation, and flicked some strands of Harry's messy hair from his face.
"He must be taken to St Mungo's," he advised gravely but Sirius shook his head. He was about to say something but shouts echoed from other rooms and the doors opened; the ministry aurors had arrived at last and both men knew that it wouldn't take them long to realize that the man they had been looking for was indeed standing on the dais, holding none other than a bleeding Harry Potter in his arms.
"No St Mungo's, I will not leave Harry's side," Sirius repeated loudly and turned abruptly as an auror noticed his presence, alerting all others of him as well, and now almost everyone was looking at him. Sirius growled angrily at them and held Harry only closer to him, as if afraid that any minute, someone could come and try to take Harry from him, what wasn't really that far from the truth considering the fact that fours aurors were already pointing their wands at him, while the rest was taking care of the bound Death Eaters.
"Sirius, that's-"
"Too late," Sirius again interrupted his friend and bit his lower lip, sending one worried look down at Harry who lay in his arms, calmly watching the whole situation, as if there were not auros in sight, no Voldemort behind their backs, and no injuries whatsoever. Actually, the boy looked strangely happy in Sirius's arms and for a while Sirius was troubled that something else had happened to his godson.
"Harry, what's…"
"You're alive," Harry whispered meakly and the corners of his lips curved into a smile," you're alive," he repeated again and a small tear strolled down his cheek, washing all blood that was in its way, and it landed down on the dais below. "Don't ever leave me, Sirius," Harry spoke again, voice laced with despair that had accumulated in his heart over years that he had spent without his dear godfather and he really couldn't help but want to weep into Sirius's robes. Sirius looked mildly surprised at hearing Harry's words but then his face lit up brigthly and he smiled fondly at Harry.
"Don't worry, we'll get out of here, I'll be cleared of or charges, Dumbledore can take care of it, I'm sure," he whispered urgently and Lupin nodded, striding to the aurors who were now forming a circle around Sirius. All conscious members of the order followed his actions, trying to talk some sense into the young and frightened looking aurors, all the while casting Sirius and Harry wary glances. It must have been some minutes before they moved again, Sirius trying to get past them, and aurors casting well aimed-spells his way. Someone shouted something along the lines as not to hurt the hostage and Harry frowned; he wasn't a hostage, he was actually very willing to be held like that. Someone moved again and Sirius' face turned into a fericious grimace.
"Sirius Black, you are arrested!" Harry stirred," put the boy down and you'll be taken to see the-"
"I will not go anywhere!" Sirius growled and the auror who had spoken backed out, seemingly intimidated by Sirius's presence and words. Or maybe by the fact that the supposed murderer and lunatic was holding another supposed bleeding lunatic in his hands. Remus jumped before Sirius, looking nervous and slightly shaken, and put his own wand aside.
"Sirius, don't move," he ordered firmly and Sirius complied, still looking furious, though. The yong auror gathered some courage and stepped forward again, quite keen on keeping his wand at Sirius without shaking too much and Harry understand the emotions there were running through the young boy's mind. "You lot have to listen to us. Sirius Black is innocent-,"
"D-don't talk lies, we all know that Black is guilty. A-and look at the Potter boy in his hands," Harry, as weak as he was, felt it pointless to try to argue about this with an auror who looked to have just barely finished with his training or with anyone else in general. Mad-eye Moody, who had been silent all the time, now finally spoke, both eyes fixed at the auror.
"This isn't time to chit-chat, you have to take care of the death-eaters and you-know-who," he growled and the aurors visibly flinched; that's where the problem lay. Those poor lads had just probably seen the Dark Lord himself, Harry mused, and were still too shocked from meeting the notorious supposed-to-be-dead dark wizard. Quite understandable, as much pain in the ass as it brought them.
"We won't listen to anyone who's sided with Black, the murderer," spoke another auror and immediately, all aurors lifted their wands," arrest them!" the situation seemed almost helpless; the young aurors aiming to send curses down at Sirius and Harry, the order members unable to do anything to stop it that wouldn't endanger their positions, and Harry's stil bleeding wounds, yet it all disappeared within an instant when Harry felt the familiar aura charge into the death chamber and disarm all aurors. Everyone looked at the direction of just freshly-appeared headmaster, who was breathing somewhat hardly and seemed to have gotten new wrinkles on his already old face. Right behind him came the minister, clad in pyjamas and pinstriped cloak, and seeing what was happening down there, his eyes goggled and he waved his hands frantically.
"Dawlish, Williamson!" he practically yelled and proceeded down when he stopped, eyes landing on Sirius who has holding a profusively bleeding Harry Potter, and his jaw fell, eyes widening in size of plates. Dumbledore stepped down and put his hand on Fugde's shoulder, bringing him back from whatever stupor he had been in.
"Cornelius, Harry needs to be taken care of. No doubt that Sirius here will refuse to leave the boy's side and if you give me an hour of your time, I shall explain all things necessary," it was evident that the headmaster was restraining himself from acting colder with the minister, but the situation was pushing him and he must have been aware of the fact that normally convincing Fudge that Sirius Black was indeed innocent required more than just simply declaring it in a way that would remind one of a TV reporter saying that it's going to be sunny for the whole week. Fudge only gaped at him, stuttering meakly at the firm look Dumbledore was giving him, and nodded, shakily, obviously still in shock, and so Dumbledore walked over to Sirius, acknowledged him by a shake of his head, and surveyed Harry over his half-moon glasses.
Harry looked at him and the minute their eyes met, Harry felt a great force impale his mind. It wasn't painful, merely a small tug at his mind, asking for permission to enter his thoughts, and Harry knew that it was just the headmaster being extremely cautious for reasons that were quite clear to him. Yet he denied it, turning his head to side.
"Harry," Dumbledore spoke," I don't what happened, but we will cure your wounds," he was about to say something again when Harry spoke with a small and weeble voice.
"Did you fight him, professor, did he take Bellatrix?" Dumbledore looked at him and in that minute Fudge decided that it was time to interfere as well.
"Now Dumbledore, we- you – you must know that I can't let you release Black just because you said so – not mainly after what happened tonight –"
"Cornelius," Dumbledore said and for the first time, he looked mad, seizing the minister with a fierce glance," you have no idea what has happened tonight so I ask you to kindly do as I said before and not try to bother in, or you might do yet another thing that would ruin your image as the minister of magic," he said and turned his back to Fudge. He took out a want and with a cutting spell he snipped off a bigger piece of his robes. He pointed his want at it and murmured, "Portus." The fabric turned blue and rustled animatedly on the dais for a few seconds, before it became still once again. Dumbledore then picked it up, tucking it into Lupin's outstretched hands, ignoring Fudge's words of not having an authorisation for that portkey.
"You two will bring Harry to the hospital wing. There, you'll stay until I return and then we'll discuss over what has happened this night. I'm sure that by the time I return Harry will be again able to talk for himself and will have these injuries at least half covered. Sirius," he paused," don't leave his side," he added simply and both Sirius and Lupin firmly grabbed the offered portkey.
"I shall see you in an hour," whispered Dumbledore quietly," One…two…three…"
Harry felt the familiar sensation of being hooked by his navel and jerked away, the dais and death chamber disappearing from his sight and he flew in a whirlwind of colors and sounds. For a while, Harry lost his consciousness, and when he woke up again, he was already safely secured in hospital wing, madam Pomfrey attending to him, both Lupin and Sirius by his side. Faintly he recognized the room and shapes that were around him, and he felt madam Pomfrey peel the robes off him, gasping as she saw the wounds on his chest. Harry turned his head from her frightened expression, not wishing to see how bad he looked from the way her eyes were widening more and more with each passing second, now almost reminding him of the same way Fudge's face had looked just some minutes ago, and his green, glowing eyes locked themselves onto his two companions.
He still couldn't believe it, he still couldn't quite grasp it within his hands and all those possibilities just kept running unceremoniously through his mind, causing him terrible headache. Harry looked back at his godfather, and seeing him alive, even thought he was supposed to be dead, even though everyone was supposed to dead and gone, Harry couldn't help but smile at him. The reality had finally dawned on in; for reasons unknown, he had been sent two years to the past, just few minutes before his godfather would have died, and now, he was laying on the bed in hospital wing, and feeling the weight of the entire situation, as confusing as it was, brought a new light into Harry's life. For once, he had a chance to do something, to actually save people. He had the knowledge necessary for such deeds and he intended to use it, whatever the cost would be. He knew, he was aware that only the morning after would he truely understand what had happened, yet it made him smile nonetheless.
"Sirius…professor Lupin," he said, gaining the attention of said men, who had been watching Harry's injuries with horrified expressions rather than watching his face," you," he paused, closed his eyes and wet his lips, clenching his jaw firmly. Then, he looked at them, and a small tear strolled down his cheek. Sirius looked flabbergaster and for a while, Harry thought that he'd call madam Pomfrey to check on him again, even though the nurse had gone to her office to search for some potions and had hold them, while Harry had been deeply in thought, to guard him and not to move an inch from his bedside, but then his godfather's expression relaxed a bit, and Harry saw the ruined man behind the wasted face. "You…are alive..all of you…" Lupin frowned and took harry's hand into his.
"Of course we are, Harry, don't worry, you have to rest and-"
"I've missed you," Harry cut him off suddenly," all of you," he said again and closed his eyes. Even thought nothing was clear to him, even thought it all could have been but a dream meant to depress him more, even thought there was a chance of everyone disappearing by the time he'd wake up from whatever nightmare that was waiting him, even thought there were so many questions he had on mind, so many things and words he wanted to say, so many possible deeds that needed to be done and oh, all those goddamn possibilities, chances, running unmethodically around his head, despite this all, Harry relaxed, letting his body rest. It hurt to breath, to think, or to exist, but now that he had Sirius by his side again, now that everyone was alive and that he had been given the chance to correct it all, Harry knew that no matter how weak he seemed, whatever pathetic state was he in, that he would wake up, refreshed and strong, with only one thing on his mind; save everyone.
Someone was screaming; it sounded a bit panicky, but Harry smiled nonethless, the corners of his lips turning upwards into a soft mimicry of a smile. The world of dreams was awaiting him, eager, and Harry gladly welcomed it, slipping into the black of his mind, and to the world outside, Harry Potter simply fell asleep.
Chapter one end