Chapter 5

It was early in the morning. Even the sun hadn't risen yet. But, slowly, the obscurity of the night was fading away and light was beginning to peek through the shroud of darkness. The silvery fog patches that were wandering through the park caused Harry to shiver.

Harry wrapped his cloak more tightly around him and began to run. But it didn't help. His thoughts inevitably returned to his nightmare that had recently jolted him out of his restless sleep. For weeks, he had been spared, but whereas he had resolutely managed all the other times to suppress any thought of the dream that haunted him since his mother's death, he didn't succeed now.

Gasping for breath, he finally paused. He looked up and froze. It should not have surprised him particularly to find himself at this place, not after everything that had happened yesterday, and yet the sight of the narrow archway hit him like a shock.

He wanted to turn, but his legs didn't obey him. Something forced him forwards and before he could prevent it, he stood in the little rose garden of his mother. Since then he hadn't come here again. It seemed to him that nothing had changed. He stared at the dark roses and fought against his memories.

If only Ginny hadn't asked him after his mother. Like one demented he had strayed through the park yesterday. Sometime his tiredness had gotten out of hand. He had sat down on the ground, had leaned against the tremendous trunk of one of the chestnut trees and had fallen asleep.

He sank onto the little bench and shuddered. Sure, Ginny's question had come completely out of the blue, but that it had thrown him off balance to such an extent frightened him. The happenings of the last days must have affected him more that he wanted to believe. Since he had met Ginny in the dungeons, his memories came back with a vengeance, just as his feelings, which he had believed forgotten and he didn't know how to deal with that.

But about this he would think later. It was much more important to devise a workable plan.

He wanted to take revenge. He wanted to kill Voldemort. That was for certain. The question was only how he should do it. And it wasn't only Voldemort who should suffer. The others should, too. The loyal servants who had helped the Dark Lord should receive their just punishment as well. If there had been the tiniest prospect of success he would have marched in the hall alone and would have put his retaliation campaign into action.

The only problem was that he couldn't do it alone. To fight against so many enemies at the same time would mean his certain death. No, if he got even with Voldemort he would need the certainty that the other Death Eaters wouldn't interfere.

A derisive smile flitted across Harry's face as he remembered how taken aback the Dark Lord had been about his appearance in the yesterday's assembly. Well, he hadn't expected any other reaction.

After all, he had hid himself since he had been seven. The first years after his mother's death, he had locked himself in his room and had passed his time with books. He had been obsessed with learning as many spells and curses as possible. Every book that had been standing in his room or the tremendous library he had read and re-read until he had been able to perform every spell that had been written in them.

Only his snake, his phoenix and the house-elves had kept him company. His snake he had found in one of the flowerbeds shortly after his sixth birthday, as he had played in the park. The strange little creature had fascinated him and had aroused his curiosity. And then he had found out that he actually could talk with it.

He had picked up the snake and had excitedly run back to his chambers. His mother had looked at him thoughtfully as he had showed her his new pet. Then she had hugged him tightly. For some reason she had been sad as he now realized.

His phoenix, he had found a year and a half later or better said his phoenix had found him. Soon after his mother had died, he had fled into the park. It had been winter, but he had perceived neither the bitter coldness nor the snowflakes, whirling fiercely around.

He would have surely frozen on that day, if the black shimmering phoenix had not appeared from nowhere. Soft wings had surrounded him, lovely singing had comforted him. And somehow he had found his way back into his rooms, where the house-elves had taken care of him. From where Rainbow had come and, above all, why the magical bird had saved him, Harry never discovered.

Since then, Rainbow had stayed with him, and she and Diamond, his snake had kept him company in the following lonely years, though even they had not been able to prevent him from becoming more and more withdrawn into his shell and burying all his feelings deeper and deeper inside of him. With each passing day his indifference had increased till nothing had played a role anymore. Diamond, who had seen much on her forays through the castle, had been his eyes and ears throughout the castle, but he hadn't paid much attention to her discoveries.

When Harry had been older he had left his chambers more and more often. Even in the park he had gone again, though he had taken care not to come near the rose garden and out of boredom had begun to explore the spacious dungeons.

Not wanting to meet neither the Dark Lord nor his closest followers, he had avoided the rest of the castle. The chance to run into them in the dungeons had been very slim. The Dark Lord went there next to never and his confidents as well did not often go to the dungeons of the castle.

One of the guards had made the mistake of ordering him gruffly to go out of his way. Seized with sudden anger, Harry had cursed him. Since then he had practiced the spells and curses he had found in his books on the many Death Eaters who guarded and interrogated the prisoners. After he had been recognized, none of those pitiful creatures had dared to forbid him his pastime. Harry wasn't even sure if the Dark Lord had ever found out about it.

The feeling of unrestricted control and power had intoxicated him and had made him forget the complete indifference. Whenever he had tortured anyone, he had nearly felt alive.

And then he had unexpectedly met Bellatrix Lestrange. Frozen, he had stared at her, and her sight had evoked the memories without any warning. Against the merciless hate he had been powerless and thus he had raped her; the woman, whom he had trusted and even loved long ago, until that one fateful day. Her screams had suppressed the memories.

But now he would not be able anymore to block the memories. Too much had happened in the last two days, too much had awoken in him.

Harry lifted his head and saw that the sun was just rising. Yes, it was time to take revenge. They would pay. He would have to be careful, however.

Harry thought back to the meeting he had had yesterday with Voldemort in his study and sighed. He had needed all his willpower to fool the Dark Lord that he had forgiven him and that he wanted to rule at his side in the future. By all appearances the Dark Lord had believed him, but Harry knew that no matter how sceptical he might be of his sudden change of heart, Voldemort would not let anything show for the time being, nor would he dare to do anything against him.

Harry smiled coldly. For now he had in any case succeeded in shaking the peace of the Dark Lord. He hadn't missed the imperceptible flicker in Voldemort's eyes as he had caught sight of Ginny, nor his reaction to his sign that he had cast into the air in the great hall.

But when he wanted to put his revenge into action, he needed help. Involuntarily he thought of Ginny. The memory of the previous evening caused him to bury his head into his hands. Did he have any right at all to ask her for help, after everything he had done to her?

Would she ever be able to forgive him? Fear, he had seen in her eyes, but never hate. Perhaps it wasn't too late yet, he thought. Though he could not undo his behaviour, he would somehow try to make amends.

Determined, he stood up. It was time to speak with Ginny.


Motionlessly standing at the window in his study, the Dark Lord gazed out into the park. His eyes were rigidly directed at his son, who approached the castle with fast strides and little later disappeared out of his view.

If he only knew what to think of his son! What could have caused Henry's sudden change of heart? The memory of the lilies and the fiery lightning bothered him. He had understood the allusion only too well. Neither had he forgotten the words the boy had screamed on that one day so many years ago.

If his son had really changed his mind and had come to his senses, it would be fatal, however, to endanger that through unfoundedly suspicions. After all, he had seen at yesterday's assembly how powerful his son was. Voldemort knew that Henry could end the stalemate that existed for years between the Dark Side and the Order of the Phoenix and thus decide the war.

But should his son indeed plan to take revenge, he would have to act, how much this thought might trouble him.

Voldemort gazed at the chestnut trees and wished as so often in the last years that he could reverse the past. If only Henry hadn't witnessed his mother's death! Or if he had had the presence of mind to obliviate the boy. But they all had been paralyzed with shock. Everything had happened so incredibly fast. No-one had known what to do, including himself. And as he had finally regained his senses, it had been too late. The damage had been done. Since then, Henry had never again come near him.

Though he could have easily opened Henry's door that always had been locked, he hadn't found his son whenever he had broken into Henry's rooms. He even had had Henry's rooms watched for days. Henry hadn't put in an appearance. A thorough search of the whole castle had been unsuccessful. A mystery he hadn't been able to solve until today. Now and then he had seen his son in the park, but only from afar. All his attempts to catch Henry had failed. And sometime he had given up and had hoped his son would come to his senses one day.

With a wistful sigh the Dark Lord remembered the beginning that had been so promising and recalled the day where he had seen Lily Potter for the first time. The young woman had protected an unconscious Auror – a wizard he had wanted to kill. But the red-haired woman hadn't stepped aside, as he had expected. Instead she had walked towards him, proud and upright. Anger had blazed in her emerald eyes as she had begun to fight with him. The sudden appearance of many Aurors, who hadn't been involved in the fight so far, had enabled her to flee and had saved the hurt wizard's life.

The second time they had met she had escaped, too, but at that point in time he had already known that he wanted her. Since she had fought him, he had desired that woman. He had wanted to break her; her resistance, her bravery, her will to live and her pride. She had humiliated him by daring to fight against him.

Furthermore, he had seen in her the right woman to bear him a son and heir. Not only had she been intelligent, brave and beautiful, but powerful, as well.

With all his thoughts he had strived for bringing her under his control. The plan he had devised to abduct her had been successful. In shortest time, he had managed to break Lily entirely with an ingenious idea; at least he had believed so. She had anticipated his every wish and she had bore him Henry, his long-awaited son. The first years had gone to his fullest satisfaction. On that one day however, all his plans for the future had shattered in a fraction of a single moment.

In one go, Lily Potter had destroyed everything. It had been her fault. She had provoked him and only then had he realized that she had deceived him all the years. Neither had he ever broken her will, nor had she ever submitted to him.

The white-hot fury that had seized him then, he still could feel today.

Lily, he thought, while helpless hate arose in him. He should have killed her after Henry's birth.

But now it was too late to ponder the past. It had happened and he couldn't change it, despite how much he would have loved to do so. Slowly going to his desk, he knew that he had to keep an eye on his son in the future.

Under no circumstances should he underestimate Lily's son.


As James Potter stepped into his living room, he saw that Arthur Weasley had not yet awaken. The decision to let Arthur sleep was quickly made. If he remembered how desperate Arthur had been the previous evening, he probably had slept just as badly as he himself had.

Quietly, James went to the window and looked into the garden, wishing almost Arthur had never come to his house. But Arthur had been in such a disastrous condition that James just couldn't have sent him away, despite his dislike against Arthur, who had vehemently taken Albus' side then and who had called him a careless fool.

Arthur's stammered, but sincere excuse had disarmed him. Compassion had seized him. He had brought Arthur to the living room, had pushed him gently into one of the arm-chairs and had provided him with hot tea, while he had asked Sirius, Remus and Peter to leave him alone with Arthur.

He couldn't explain it exactly, but he had never spoken with his friends about his feelings concerning Lily and her disappearance. Something had always prevented him from doing it.

It wasn't so that he didn't trust them. He knew that they would never let him down, when he needed them, but instinctively he had sensed that they couldn't really understand how it felt to lose the person you loved more than everything else in the world, yes, even more than your own life.

But Arthur understood it now. They had sat together yesterday and had talked until late at night. Arthur had told him about his daughter Ginny and he had told Arthur about his Lily. For the first time in years James had been able to speak about his wife.

And though his long conversation with Arthur had helped him and had taken a bit of his heavy burden from him, it had also painfully evoked his memories.

Whispering Lily's name, he gazed up into the sky. How he missed her. He missed and longed for her every second of his life.

He heard her silvery laugh, saw her sparkling emerald green eyes in front of him, remembered how she had whirled around in the garden in the summer, how she had run towards him and had thrown herself in his arms. Despite the war, despite the indescribable cruelties he had witnessed every day, he had been happy. Lily had been his light in the darkness; she had been the sense of his life.

Every day she had encouraged him, had believed firmly that the war would end one day. She had merely needed to look at him with her sparkling eyes and he had shared her hope, all his desperation forgotten for a while. A soft touch from her and he had known that he would survive another day.

James heavily leaned onto the windowsill and closed his eyes. That he didn't know what had happened on that day Lily disappeared haunted him.

Nearly every night he had created a different scenario of what could have happened. Everyone had been crazier than the one before. Still he did that and tormented himself with feelings of guilt, when one part of him considered but for a moment that she could have left him willingly.

But with such suspicions he would have betrayed Lily. He would have betrayed their love.

And this he would never do.

James turned around and regarded the sleeping Arthur. Suddenly he thought of the suggestion Arthur had made and which had occupied him the whole night. Then no-one, save his friends, had taken him seriously as he had spoken of his plan to attack the headquarters of the Dark Lord. But now he had Arthur's support.

Perhaps the attack on the train was exactly the means to an end he needed. Suddenly wide-awake, James nodded pensively, felt how agitation rose in him.

The parents of the other missing and dead students would surely be willing to join them as well. Maybe the majority of the Order would finally realize that the war would never end, if they all were afraid of attacking Voldemort directly.

Albus, this coward, would oppose them, of course. They would have to find a way to prevent him from crossing their plan. James knew how dangerous their scheme was, knew that they all would risk their life, yet this didn't matter to him. He had never cared about the danger.

The only thing that mattered was Lily. He would rescue her.

One thing he had learned from Lily. Even if the situation was hopeless, she had never given up. He would also fight until the end. Some things were worth to die for.

And Lily was worth everything.


Molly Weasley sat on the kitchen table and stared at her coffee that had gotten cold long ago. How quiet it had become in the house, she thought and looked at her sons who silently were eating their breakfast. Since Ginny's abduction they had hardly spoken a word.

Burning tears welled up in her eyes, yet she hadn't any strength anymore to cry, nor to worry about Arthur.

A loud tapping against the window startled the Weasleys. Molly quickly turned around. To her astonishment she spotted a black phoenix sitting on the window ledge. In his beak the magical bird was carrying a letter.

"Has Dumbledore found another phoenix?" Bill asked. With a frown he regarded the unfamiliar phoenix.

"I don't know," Molly answered, while standing up. She went to the window and opened it. She had just taken the letter when the phoenix flew away. Molly gazed after him until he had disappeared from her view and then riveted her eyes on the thin parchment.

Molly recognized the handwriting immediately. The world seemed to spin and Molly swayed.