','
An Old and New World
by Lens of Sanity
','
Chapter Thirty: The Line between Genius and Insanity
','
Floating in his shade form was not something Voldemort enjoyed in the slightest. It was a constant struggle to stay conscious and self-aware, preventing his very nature from unravelling. And when he was in that form it was always because someone or something had recently killed his body—understandably something he might not appreciate.
Yet the standing levels of rage usually present after the loss of a body were notably absent, due in quite a large part to the reason it had happened. A few short minutes ago Voldemort had detonated his magic, an ability he'd never tested for obvious reasons, known in certain circles as "The Big Finish."
The explosion was quite impressive, Voldemort would admit with no small sense of pride that such levels of destruction greatly pleased him. The creature, whatever it had been—Nova Dragon perhaps?—had put up quite a fight and of course been slain by the Dark Lord, as all threats to his power ultimately would be.
Holding his consciousness together in his shade form, like malevolent smoke drifting on the wind, the Dark Lord floated toward the nearest Muggle town, coming upon a sleepy suburban home. In most instances Voldemort would simply stay in his shade form, searching out one of Britain's three primary headquarters.
The battle lines of besieged Hogwarts were in Scotland, hundreds of miles north, long hours of flight away. He'd been at Malfoy Manor when he'd died, so the second choice was unfeasible. And the third was the Dark Lord's personal base, but that too was almost as long a journey as flying to Hogwarts.
Instead Voldemort decided he'd locate his nearest member of the Inner Circle and go from there. Approaching the suburban house and floated in silently, he used possession on a large Muggle man with instantly forgettable features, and took stock of his surroundings. The body seemed to have been talking to another Muggle in a pressed suit, oiled hair combed back.
"All you have to do is sign here and the work will being within the week."
It appeared to be a salesperson of some kind. Voldemort frowned, instinctively casting about for more information. From the oily man's facial expression and body language, the Dark Lord concluded he believed to be getting one over on the Muggle he'd possessed, no doubt coning money or signing for poor quality services.
Double Glazing. Whatever that was.
Voldemort watched curiously as the light in the oily Muggle's eyes became glassy, and once his victim's larynx was crushed all struggles ceased. Good deed for the day accomplished, Voldemort snagged the salesman's keys and moved over to the man's German five series. He'd not driven an automobile in many years, but it was not a skill one easily forgot.
The Nott family lived around here somewhere.
','
Many miles further north, not far outside the wards of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, Hermione Granger was prone on her stomach beneath the Cloak of Invisibility. Not moving a millimetre more than necessary, her steady breathing calm, heart pounding slow at around forty five times per minute.
...
Stillness.
...
...
This was actually her idea, something she came up with on the same evening as Tam decided to raise a daemon. The others had been helping Hermione with the idea, while she unsuccessfully tried to convince Harry not to go through with the daemon plan. So for the past two months she had been working on her idea, and they only had a single shot at it. If she failed the first time their enemies would easily be able to counter a second attempt.
Well, technically it was her alone who had a single shot at pulling it off, surprise the sole factor in its success.
Originally she'd hoped someone else would be the one to have to do it, but they'd decided it was one of the small group living on Carebannog who'd have to do it. So testing the Aurors for someone with more aptitude than Hermione was out, mostly because of the security risk and the near certainty of spies.
Tamsyn, Harry, and Bellatrix would all be busy with the daemon, given they'd decided to do it on the same day for added Death Eater confusion, so none of those three would be available. Albus needed to stay behind Hogwarts wards to keep the school protections at a maximum, so he was out too. As was Lily due to her pregnancy.
This left Sirius, Fleur, and Hermione herself.
Professor Snape was a possibility, but Harry vetoed it the instant Albus voiced the suggestion.
The crash course Tam had given the three showed glaringly that Sirius had absolutely no aptitude whatsoever, whereas Fleur and Hermione were about even in skill. Although the two months of practice caused Hermione to pull ahead noticeably, meaning she was the one laying still as a statue, waiting for the single moment to act.
She'd been deep in the stillness for five and a half hours.
She hadn't moved and barely blinked.
...
Her target was finally in place, not two hundred meters away, lilac robes, fair skin, and flowing golden hair. Hermione didn't think about how a seventh of Voldemort's soul could possibly be walking around wearing lilac, she didn't think about the time in the Ministry when Salazar had nearly killed her and Hermione had been the one to walk away not him. She didn't think about her slow, steady heartbeat, or the glowing blackness she was tracking.
Hermione didn't think at all.
...
Stillness.
...
...
She didn't even consciously squeeze, feeling slight surprise as the stock crashed into her shoulder. The projectile jumped from the barrel of Tam's Lee-Enfield, spinning, flying across the gap. Three-oh-three tearing through an invisible bubble on its course, collapsing it in a shimmer of periwinkle blue. An instant later the Valyrian Round, imbued with oh-so-much magic, winged the Locket of Slytherin and continued on its course through the man's heart.
"I have come here to chew bubblegum and kick ass. And I'm all out of bubblegum," Hermione whispered before her brain re-engaged.
...
"Harry can never find out I just said that!"
','
"Why don't we just shoot him?" Hermione asked two months earlier, a little tipsy and still a quite buzzed about her new Mongoose form. She'd been thinking on what Luna always said about Helga devising obvious solutions. "Like, take the crown right off Rowena's head from a distance. You all said how Goblin forged weapons can be imbued with basilisk venom last year, didn't you? We could use a basilisk bullet and just shoot her."
"That's never going to work in a million years Hermione," her girlfriend laughed, though not unkindly. "Have you never wondered why so few wizards use firearms? Well, some mercenaries and other assorted crazies aside."
"Isn't it just because they look down on Muggles and don't know how effective they can be? We used Muggle weapons to good effect during the Jabberwock plan."
"Yeah, that is part of it sure," Tam agreed. "But just about everyone in the magical world carries around bullet wards. We all do, I know that for sure."
"We do?" Lily asked in surprise.
She lifted her Caerbannog bracelet and directed everyone who was interested toward a tiny carved rune on the side. It was sort of a wonky triangle inside a square.
"That's a bullet ward?" Hermione asked, paying close attention.
"They've mostly gone out of fashion, but back during the Second World War everyone had them," Tam told her. "It was invented by a female runeskrive back during Napoleonic times. The designer was the first person to be awarded an Order of Merlin First Class for research. It's saved many lives over the years. I think it was based off the fletcher enchantments Magicals used when we fought beside Muggles in battle ourselves."
"That is actually quite fascinating," Hermione said. "And you think Voldemort and the Founder's use them just like we do?"
"I would," Harry and Tam said together, and Tam finished, "And we do."
','
Hermione had not allowed the idea to rest and eventually Harry backed her up. The argument being that just shooting one of Voldemort's splinters was precisely the kind of simple solution they should be trying, nobody would see it coming!
So she set up camp in Hogwarts Library and did some good old fashioned research on the bullet wards Tam told her would almost certainly be in effect. One of the first things she learned was that they did not produce a shield which would stop bullets at all—as Hermione had initially assumed—instead they acted in the same manner as the old arrow wards Warrior Mages made use of when defending the king in one of the many medieval wars.
A witch or wizard was surrounded an invisible film of magic, and any object approaching at high velocity would activate the bullet ward, deflecting the projectile from its target. Even feeling for it, this film was so thin it'd probably be missed it passing through, and took virtually none of the Magical's innate strength to maintain.
When activated the bullet ward would then push the incoming projectile away from the witch or wizard's centre of mass, harmlessly passing by on one side. Hopefully. Even if it did not, the odds of the bullet being fatal were low, far more likely causing a flesh would, or winging the person in the arms or shoulders.
Wounds which are incredibly simple to heal with magical means.
The amount of deflection depending on what material the bullet ward rune was carved into, as well as the power and intent of the carver when he or she carved it.
At this point the "Why don't we just shoot him?" concept was looking to be a pretty bad one. Voldemort and his Founders would obviously be using quality wards, meaning the odds of hitting as small a target as a Horcrux would essentially be nil.
Which was why bypassing the ward entirely became Hermione's main goal, and after many days without seeing sunshine even once, she came across a dusty old tome detailing a method of carving an arrowhead into tearing down the arrow wards as it hit. Thereby no sideways nudging occurred, and the target could strike true.
It was only a matter of time before this could be used to extrapolate a more powerful rune cluster which would do the same to the wards being used by the Founders. Albus did most of the work, but commented on how Luna would have been a great help, what with that wonderful runic array of hers.
Downside to this plan?
Once Voldemort realised they were using Muggle weapons against him, it would take him no time at all to work out a countermeasure to make any future uses pointless. Their "magic bullet" could only be used once. But it could be used, and permanently disabling a Founder was not something which could be ignored.
It was at this point that Hermione stopped all efforts on creating the magic bullet, instead focusing under the tutelage from Tam and the far more expedient problem. Together with Fleur she'd been working on becoming proficient enough with the rifle to actually hit her target when the time came.
Not an easy task.
Tam was spending most of her time with Harry—doing all the daemon preparations—so this gave her quite a bit free time to practice. While Hermione would admit to hating guns, she would also have to admit to a certain satisfaction when she hit a target of five by five centimetres, five times in a row, at a range of five hundred meters.
A feat she only accomplished one time, the day before Harry was going to raise his bloody daemon!
The magic bullet, as she'd been thinking of it, was one of the old Valyrian Rounds they'd crafted last year. It had been temporarily engorged and carved with the new bullet ward busting rune cluster fifty five times, and given another cluster which would allow it to absorb the basilisk venom from Slytherin's pet. Hermione had insisted they carve the rune "Jera" opposite the rune "Tiwaz." Peace, Hermione said, was what she was fighting for. And she would not do it unless the rune representing its concept was there to offset the one representing war.
The last element was a horrendously painful Occlumagi spell cast on her by Albus earlier that morning. It would allow her to actually see a Horcrux, a deep black which seemed to glow somehow she couldn't exactly describe. Apparently Albus had done quite a lot of research himself, modifying the curse breaking tool to show the location of a Horcrux beneath clothes and protections.
And now it was over—click, boom—the Founder Salazar was without his Horcrux, and Hermione lay unmoving beneath Harry's Deathly Hallow. Unseen, concealed, not two hundred meters from her fallen target. She intended to stay right where she was until the confusion and chaos died down, sneaking back to the castle in an hour or two once the Death Eaters became less vigilant.
One even stood on her hand during the scrambled search, but all the potions she'd taken made ignoring the pain quite effortless. Wit Sharpening, something to keep hunger and thirst at bay, a Calming Draught which lowered her heart rate, and something Tam had given her that morning and refused to specify as to its purpose.
Hermione hadn't asked, as she knew she'd probably have disapproved.
','
"Filthy Muggle law enforcement," Voldemort muttered, climbing out the twisted remains of his appropriated BMW. He stuffed both thumbs into the smaller policeman's eyes when he came at him with a baton, and abandoned his host right after the second connected with the back of his head, an unworthy strike.
The trip back to his Death Eaters was not going at all smoothly. The Dark Lord possessed the taller of the two baton wielding law enforcers, stealing the man's car. Rooting around inside he found an AA-roadmap, and after some brief searching its pages gained a rough location of his Inner Circle member's stronghold.
It was times like these he despised his shade form, if the subject he possessed did not have even latent magical spark, Voldemort was unable to tap the smallest sliver of magic himself. Forced instead to rely on speed, power, tactics, and of course his own mighty intellect.
He would quite literally kill anyone who watched him as he returned to civilisation, and was able to spread this degrading tale. Anyone at all! It was undignified, the very thought filling him with a murderous rage.
Two and a half hours later the battered police car pulled up as near as he could approach to the Nott's Nest. More wizardly alliteration. Sigh. He abandoned the Muggle, glad to see the back of him and this whole experience. Only two tires of the car were still inflated, the front windscreen was missing, three dead Muggles were stuffed into the back seat, and there was a big pile of half eaten fast food in the passenger footwell, next to a couple of mangled traffic cones.
It had not been an easy trip, nor had it been an enjoyable one.
Voldemort's shade form breezed through the Nott wards and he viciously took possession of one of the house guards.
Finally a wand!
The thought was one of triumph. Small perhaps, but intense.
"My Lord—" Nott began, seeing the guard's distinctive crimson eyes.
"Crucio!" bellowed Voldemort. Strictly speaking the man had done nothing, and it was always inadvisable to punish a minion for no reason, but the Dark Lord really just needed to hurt somebody. He put quite a bit extra juice into the curse.
Seeing the man was about to die Voldemort reluctantly ended the torture, moved over to the Dark Mark on his forearm, and summoned all the Death Eaters he wished to see. He made sure the summoning hurt far more than it normally would.
The news he received not an hour later did little to assuage his temper. It seemed that the Slytherin Locket had been destroyed by an assassin around the same time as he, Lord Voldermot, was fighting the three headed dragon. Salazar had not in fact died however, due to the quick thinking of one of the Founder's retinue, hastily applied phoenix tears, and a spare heart forcibly donated by one of the new recruits.
Meaning Voldemort still had Salazar at his disposal, however the man would no longer be able to survive his death. The soul fragment present in Slytherin's Locket had managed to flee to its dying body in the hopes of somehow surviving.
The Death Eaters had brought him the metal slug which was used in the attack. Even if the black cloaked man offering it had not, Voldemort instantly recognised the round as the mangled remains of a .303. So they were not above using Muggle weapons, that was irritating, if far from a difficult problem to solve.
More bad news from Draco. The defeat of the Nova Dragon had not only destroyed the Malfoy's ancestral home, but somehow Godric was trapped inside. Young Malfoy appeared confused at how this could have happened, attesting the Founder had ordered him out of his home with assurances Godric would be right behind him.
Voldemort was therefore down to one Horcrux, and two adjuncts; Rowena and the now mortal Salazar.
He banished all his Death Eaters, ordering them to be extra vigilant toward the siege of Hogwarts, while he and the two Founders came up with a new strategy. Their thoughts working together came to similar conclusions, and the three eventually decided to investigate intelligence gained by one of Godric's entourage, from the battle in France back in February.
From unconfirmed reports, Harry Potter had fought with Lord Voldemort's power, using strength and magics that were not his own to best his opponent. This could only mean the proto-Horcrux implied by the prophecy was, and always had been, attempting possession.
Voldemort sent Salazar back to Hogwarts with orders to stay behind shielding at all times until a solution to the Muggle weapons could be crafted. Then he and Rowena went to do some research... and theorising.
Perhaps killing Harry Potter was not the optimal solution after all.
','
Hermione spent what little remained of April in the Harry Potter Wing of Hogwarts, being carefully monitored by Poppy to ensure a full recovery from that cocktail of potions she'd ingested. They'd done their job, and the shot had hit true, but not without a few short-term side effects to her body.
As soon as Harry and Tam made sure she was resting comfortably, and cleaned up themselves, Harry went in search of his newborn daughter. The little girl was tiny, and he made sure to, at the very least, read Rose a bedtime story once a day. Fleur actually caught him that first night, outlining the brave and totally made up heroics from his book Harry Potter and the Baited Basilisk. How he cleaved in twain a Whomping Willow with gigantic axe in his offhand, ruggedly saving a bawling Hermione in the process.
He looked caring and sweet.
"And now Harry, brave and tall and fair of face, stood up against the oncoming threat of his greatest and most terrible foe. 'Ah Gingerbeard, I see now that it was you who were in league with the six fingered man the whole time. I will avenge you just like I did my brother.'
'No!' Gingerbeard spoke in a powerful and commanding tone 'I am your brother!'
'Noooooo!' Harry's raspy voice bellowed in despair. 'That's impossible.'
'It is? Search your feelings you know it to be true.'
'No, it really is impossible. You're like fifty years older than my parents!'"
Harry finally noticed Rose was asleep and that Fleur was silently watching him. His less than a week old daughter couldn't understand a word he was saying of course. Nevertheless, his mother assured him the kid wouldn't shut up unless he was in the room, something about his presence calmed her and so he'd taken to reading Rose his crappy novel.
"Feel free to take the piss Fleur," he said without turning. "I really don't mind."
"I would not taunt you about such a thing 'Arry," she voiced intensely. "I find it difficult to picture you with a child."
"Yeah, that's true," Harry agreed. "It's a shame so many people told me I couldn't just stick her in a cupboard isn't it?" Fleur didn't bite. There was little point making comments like that when Hermione wasn't around. "I've hired a bunch of people to help. British pureblood Lord and all that, I'm supposed to be all aloof and pay a bunch of servants to actually raise my kids."
"Yet you read a story?" Harry scowled at her. "I am curious, not mocking in my question."
"I have no intension of hacking off a kid on my parent like most teenagers in my position. But there is a load of stuff I just have no interest in doing at all." He grinned, it was a cocky look filled with arrogance. "Babies can be pretty gross so I've been told." Harry paused for a beat. "So yeah, gross stuff is handled by people who aren't me, and I get to read a story. Win-win."
The French woman looked over at the sleeping bundle, thinking over Harry's weird thought process awhile. He was selfish and pragmatic, yet somehow endearing. Either she'd gone completely around the bend spending too much time in the crazy world of Harry Potter, or he was making some kind of bizarre sense. Fleur was betting on the former.
"Why did you send me that flower?" she asked after a time.
Fleur was talking about a blue orchid he'd tracked down with great care. Flawless perfection was what he'd been searching for, the exact shade of her eyes. It was housed between three semi-precious stones holding up a "Keeping" which would maintain the plant's environment. So long as it was watered once a week the flower would never die.
"You are still here..." Harry thought he meant it as in the castle, but Fleur heard it as near him, "and the help you offered when working with Hermione was appreciated."
He nodded to the ever attentive house-elf on guard, took the French beauty's hand with splayed fingers, and swept from the room side by side.
The charm he'd put on the door activated, turning her hair a deep blood red, but Fleur didn't notice until the next day.
','
The world had turned to early May and the group were trying in vain to talk Harry out of his "Stupid Plan." Capitalised. It wasn't a stupid plan at all, it was brilliant, and Harry was hearing nothing to the contrary.
"You will die," Lily Potter declared simply. She even stomped her foot for emphasis.
"I die all the time. What's the big deal?" Harry retorted flippantly.
"No Harry—" Hermione was siding against him. Typical. "This time you'll die, die. Like for real."
"Will not," said Harry
"Will too," said Hermione.
"Look, we have a tired and tested method for Dark Lord destroying. We'd be downright stupid not to go through with it!" insisted the green eyed man.
The green eyed woman disagreed. "It won't even work, and even if it does, you will die. That is how the magic works!"
"I die all the time," Harry repeated slowly, as if to a child. Then when his mother was about to interrupt went on, "Do you at least agree you canfigure out what you did last time? I will even give you the Pensieve Tam and I stole from the City of the Dead for your own personal use."
Lily Potter looked frustrated, clearly about to protest again.
"Just answer the question," Harry demanded.
"Yes," replied Lily. "Yes, okay. If I try I will probably be able to figure out the exact process I went through back in the eighties. And it should be possible to give another person the Ritual Guardian." She interrupted her son before he could speak again. "I just don't think I should because..."
"...of the price I would have to pay," he finished her sentiment. "I can survive my death Mum. I can do it. I'm the only one who should do it for Merlin's sake."
"Magic is about Intent," Hermione shot in waspishly. "You say so five or six times per week... Meaning if you don't really think you're going to die, the magic will not hold. It's obvious."
"Do not worry about that, Tam and I have a plan," Harry informed, waving it off. "Leave that part to us. Will you figure out the ritual for us then? Please?"
...
"I—" Lily began. "I get veto power if I don't like your full plan?"
"Mostly."
Seeing as that was the best she was going to get, Harry's mother acquiesced. "Okay, I'll help... I really, really don't want to, but I'll help."
','
Harry sat behind a huge table strewn with Arithmancy calculations, reams and reams of parchment scribbled with numbers, and columns, and graphs. He'd been at this for weeks, and finally came to the conclusion he knew he would the whole time.
"Voldemort is going to hit me with the Killing Curse."
Tam blinked at him. Shaken from whatever dirty thoughts were obviously running through her mind.
"Yeah?"
"I was right the whole time," began Harry, finally finishing his run through of the projections to be offered by this Edge Magic. "He knows about the proto-Horcrux in my scar thanks to the prophecy I gave him. But he also knows about the changeovers now, because of my little stunt in France where I offed Godric."
"As well as rumours surrounding the second Triwizard Task," said the redhead. "You've said this before Harry."
"Right, but you and I both know that if either of us were Voldemort, we would be pissed off with the dwindling Founders at our command. Meaning Voldemort will go to tremendous lengths to turn Harrymort into another of his servants."
"You've said this before too," Tam told him. "What do your calculations tell you?"
"I've combined Albus' notes with all the stuff we have on the Horcrux ritual. Anyway, this is what I think will happen if Voldemort or someone else, hits me with a Killing Curse instead of just destroying my forehead. As he has been trying to do for ages...
"First, and by far the most likely, my soul and the soul fragment in my scar both become separated from my body. I die. Voldemort would be happy about this.
"Second, the scar Horcrux is hit and becomes separated from my body and my Soul, leaving me alive but unable to survive my death. This is also a success for Voldemort.
"Third, and by far the most preferable to the Dark Lord, my soul gets hit, Harrymort takes over my body, and probably joins Voldemort."
"So you are saying it is win, win, win, for the Dark Lord to do this?"
"Right."
"So you shouldn't let him hit you with a Killing Curse."
"Wrong."
"Wrong?"
"Yeah. You see we know something he doesn't," Harry started, closing his eyes. "We know that my scar has been changing size and intensity each time one of us dies..."
"No Harry," Tam began, but the man ignored her.
"—and the theory goes, each Horcrux contains a seventh of his soul; Sword, Diadem, Cup, Locket, Ring, and Diary. And that the remaining seventh is shared between Voldemort and me. Only the scar is changing shape, because the amount of soul present is fluid. A small quantity moving between us ever so slightly, each time one of us is dead."
"That was just a theory Harry, there was no basis in fact or evidence," Tamsyn protested knowing it was futile.
"I think each time Voldemort is in his shade form, or my soul is residing in my forehead, the entanglement Albus described becomes... more mashed together."
"And you are going to gamble on this crazy theory, which had no evidence bar your Arithmantic projections. You are going to just assume it will allow you to once again survive a Killing Curse?"
"Yes. I will survive, and the Horcrux will still be present. I also think the fact my Mum survived will work in my favour..." Harry trailed off. "So long as Voldemort doesn't hit me in the forehead! That would screw everything up."
Seeing her brother was not going to be talked out of this Tam simply shook her head.
"Let's go tell Albus his part in the plan. Oh, and Snape isn't going to like it."
"Since when does Snape like anything? If he pulls it off I'll give him a pass on the whole Remus Lupin issue."
','
"You want me to do what?" Albus asked disbelievingly.
"I want you to memory charm me—" Harry stopped when Tam cuffed him around the head. "It isn't a sacrifice unless it's a sacrifice. I have to really believe I'm going to die, and am giving my life willingly, or it won't work."
"And it is not a memory charm we want you to perform," Tam said glaring at her companion, his hair messy as hell from all the time spent running his fingers through it. "I can do it myself, being so gifted at the Mental Arts, but I'd prefer to have the might of the Elder Wand behind this spell."
"Explain precisely what you wish me to accomplish."
"A Memory Block. Or a cap. One utilising purely intent based casting," Tam told him carefully. "For it to be the most effective I do not want you to use any actual spell, because the outcome is not something we can really predict beforehand... I want you to put a Block on all Harry's memories, and allow his own mind to create a personality which would willingly give its life to save his friends and family, would know about and remember performing Lily's ritual, and would not balk or attempt to fight when the time comes."
"Harry's skill at Occlumency would make such a thing—"
"Anima Shatter Potion." Albus' question was interrupted. "It is already brewed."
Hermione blinked several times thinking through what was being requested, before asking a question herself. "Is this safe?"
"Bollocks no!" Harry exploded. "This is very fucking unsafe. But I think it'll work."
Hermione didn't reply, and Albus was lost in thought. Snape however looked unsurprisingly displeased. "And you expect me to betray the Secret of the Fidelius Charm to the Dark Lord," sneered the greasy man. "For him to believe for one moment I'm not working on your orders. And worse, you think the Dark Lord will fail to realise the similarities between this situation, and what happened in 1981?"
"Yep."
"You are fools."
"No we're not," Harry said cheerfully. "Rowena is all logic and intelligence, Salazar charisma and intuition, it would occur to neither something like this could happen. And with the sanity once offered by Helga no longer available, we doubt Voldemort will consider it either."
"The question is," Tam began, "are you a good enough liar, Severus Snape?"
Again the room trailed off, each lost in their own minds.
When Harry noticed the Headmaster come to the conclusion he could probably pull off this insanely challenging piece of magic successfully, Harry continued. "The last part of the plan will actually help you Professor Snape," he said with just a small touch of respect. "The botched Daemon Raising has injured me, and my mind has snapped. This is why I've been out of the public eye since it happened. This injury will be spread about through the Death Eater spies at Hogwarts, and you can use it to help convince Voldemort of your true allegiance."
"Do you think such a fabrication will hold water Harry?" Hermione asked eventually.
"It won't be a fabrication once my mind is altered. You all just have to be careful what you say and do around me."
With a low sigh Dumbledore bleakly asked, "When would you like to do this Harry?"
"I was thinking nearer the end of term. Snape can betray us all over the summer."
On Friday the 20th of June 1997 Harry Potter awoke in the Hospital Wing of Hogwarts, he was a little groggy and he had a buzzing headache far worse than the one time he'd gotten drunk. "Hello Mr. Potter, it is good to see you awake," said the matron kindly. "What is the last thing you remember?"
"Erm—, ma'am?" Harry began uncertainly. "I was practicing a Chaser drill with the Griffindor Quidditch team..."
Harry failed to note the small look of sadness on the healer's pretty face.
','
"Severus has betrayed us." Lily Potter said these words on August first, with the grim tiredness from weeks of stress. "The emergency portkey failed and Apparition Nets are in place."
"I'll hold him off, perhaps you can get to a broom or something," Harry told her, light of resolve burning in his eyes, reminding Lily strongly of her husband.
Harry moved off and she stood not far away, behind the wall, listening intently and ignoring the wails of the baby simulacrum she'd been looking after these last few weeks. They'd obviously not been stupid enough to have the real Sarah Potter as added bait for the trap. There was a clattering explosion and Lily heard the Dark Lord and her son exchange pointless banter.
"Harry Potter at last you are within my grasp."
"I will not allow you to hurt them."
"Injured as you are it is almost a pity, goodbye Potter boy, your race is run. Avadakedavra!"
Lily felt a tingle of magic on her skin, and a certainty that her son had been successful. So with all the hope she could muster that Harry would be able to survive a Killing Curse yet again, she took a long dagger from its holster on her thigh. Hefting her robes well above the knee and exposing long pale legs, she stabbed the dagger brutally into her femoral artery.
It hurt like crazy and she'd bleed out in four minutes if untreated, but the more of the red stuff was flowing, the safer she'd be. Limping into the hallway with the dagger tip between her fingers, Lily encountered the Dark Lord standing over her fallen son.
"You killed my husband scumbag."
Voldemort quirked an eyebrow at the oncoming blade and flicked his wand derisively.
Dagger and cursed blood lanced straight through his forehead, right between the eyes, and when his magic failed him the serpentine man looked a mite surprised.