Disclaimer: Everything you recognise is J.K.Rowling's property. This story is a response to the Severitus Challenge.

Chapter four: how to get rid of a freak, lesson one

Hermione sighed disbelievingly at the text before her. Yes, to take You-Know-Who's powers away and make him a muggle had been a great idea. It even was a feasible one.

In theory at least.

But in reality…

When Harry had mentioned his idea, she had cursed herself for not thinking about it before. She remembered reading about it in third year, when she had been taken aback by the fact that Dementors were used to guard prisoners.

Then, she learned that the Dementors weren't an old race, and had in fact been created by Salazar Slytherin, who thought the current mean of dealing with prisoners was inadequate.

At the time, convicted wizards were dispossessed of their powers, remaining simple muggles.

Apparently, it had almost happened to Salazar's older sister and he hadn't tolerated the idea of being related to a muggle, therefore searching for another way to punish criminals. A way no less cruel.

The Dementors.

Centuries later, the potion allowing to deprive someone of their magical skills had been classified as Dark Arts and forgotten.

Could it be the mean to end Voldemort? Yes, it was Dark Arts, and while it didn't take the will to kill or hurt like the Unforgivable spells, it did required a true wish to see a man banished from the magical world.

Which shouldn't be too difficult a feeling to have when it came to You-Know-Who.

No, the only real problem she saw was the form of the curse. A potion. She really couldn't see how anyone could make Voldemort drink it. And she feared that if Harry learned about it, he would take it upon himself to try.

And it wasn't right. It wasn't their war. It was their parents' (well, not hers, but Harry's, Ron's, Neville's, even Malfoy's…). They had nothing to do with it. Yes, it was Harry who ended it all those years ago. But not really in fact. It was more his mother, her sacrifice…

Not their war. It was a war that had began nearly forty years ago. It was Dumbledore's war.

And whatever he could say, it certainly wasn't Harry's.

Yet he acted as if it was upon himself to kill the madman!

But it wasn't! Voldemort was a very powerful wizard, and the only one who seemed powerful enough to defeat him was Dumbledore.

After all, he had already beaten up Grindelwald, why not his successor?

All Harry should have to worry about was his NEWTs, and he wouldn't have any other encounter with Voldemort if she had anything to say about it.

Taking her decision, she walked towards the Headmaster's office.

After Hermione's abruptly departure, Ron dared Harry to a game of chess, but he refused. He had something to do.

Wearing his invisibility cloak, he went to the astronomy tower and sat under the early night sky. There, before changing his mind again, he quickly opened Sirius' letter.

It said:

Harry,

If you read this it means I'm dead, and that I can't take care of you anymore. Not that I really do while alive…

I just wanted you to know that I care a lot about you and that I want you to be happy. Don't be too sad over my unfortunate death. My life is pretty meaningless at the moment. All I can do is hide in that awful house and worry about you. Not much!

And while I do hope that one day I'll be free, I know it won't be before the end of this war. So help me Harry, kill this ugly bastard and free my memory if I'm already gone… and then you will be able to really enjoy your life, in peace.

Until then, take care of yourself and be patient. I know we expect a lot from you (yes, I'm aware of the prophecy, in vague terms at least) but hold onto the thought that one day, it will all be over. One day, you'll wake up in the morning and have just wonderful things to do…

I wish you a wonderful life.

Love,

Sirius

After reading his letter, Harry just sat there for a while, taking in Sirius' last words to him. Somehow it made it real. He was dead. Dead. And he wasn't coming back. Ever.

Since that awful day when he had seen him fall through the veil, one thing bothered him most. He hadn't have any chance to say goodbye. To tell Sirius how much he meant to him.

But Sirius had. And somehow, he felt a little better. Glancing at the sky, to the star he knew to be Sirius, he smiled, while silent tears ran on his cheeks.

Albus Dumbledore was sitting at his desk, thinking. There was something going on, and he had to figure it out.

He wasn't accustomed to being left in the dark, and when it happened he really didn't like it. Especially when it had to do with his most trustful co-workers and friends.

Severus wasn't an open man, but usually he told his old mentor when something was bothering him. But not this time. Albus could tell something was on his mind, but he didn't know what! And Sev wouldn't tell…

Should he push him to confess, or just let him come when he was ready?

A gentle buzz interrupted his dilemma, telling him that someone was trying to guess the entrance's password by giving the gargoyle all kinds of sweets' names.

Sighing, he waved at the entrance door with his wand and a nervous-looking girl entered the room. He put a false smile on his face and offered her a sorbet lemon, which she refused.

"Miss Granger! What can I do for you? "

What does she want? I hope it's not some rubbish question about school marks because I'm really not in the mood! Doesn't she knows I'm a busy man?

"Good evening Headmaster. I just thought of something that might work but I'm not sure…"

Great, a babbling one. He forced himself to appear patient.

"That might work for what, my dear?"

"To stop V-V-Voldemort, sir. It might work to stop him from harming anybody else."

"Really? Well, let's hear it, shall we?"

"Have you thought of the Ysalar Draught sir?"

Ok, perhaps I've underestimated her. Goodness, the girl is too clever for her own good! This potion is unknown of the most part. Even I didn't think about it since I was a curious student! It's Dark Arts, for Merlin's sake! I won't have young girls babbling about forgotten Darks potions in my school.

"The Ysalar Draught? Where did you learn of such a thing?"

He asked to gain time, and recover unnoticeably from his shock.

"…"

"You wouldn't have used your time turner to access the Reserve back in your third year, per chance?"

"…"

"Smart girl. Back to the matter, no, I never really gave it any thoughts. But that's an idea… "

And indeed, it was. The problem was that it was a potion affecting the body, and Voldemort had already proved that he could change bodies if the one he was in proved unsuitable - as would a muggle one.

"The problem is, sir, how could we bring You-Know-Who to take the potion?

"Yes. And would it prevent his followers to renew the rite, therefore allowing their Master to take another body, one non-magical-blocked? "

"Oh. I didn't think of that. Yes, I suppose it's quite useless in this case. Well, goodnight sir, sorry to have bothered you."

You can!

"Nonsense. You're welcome to get here the second you have another idea like this. Good night."

She returned to Gryffindor tower in a very bad mood, angry towards herself. Of course Voldemort could just begin all over again! It was his soul that needed to be killed, not his body! Every spell harming, killing or disabling the body was useless.

Think! She told herself. You've read about thousands of spells and charms and potions. Isn't there anything that would do the same to the soul that this potion does to the body?

She sat there for what seemed hours, alone in the common room long after everyone had gone to bed. Only Ron stayed with her, but she barely noticed. She was more disappointed than the day she earned an A in her astronomy's OWL. This time she had been so sure this was it. The mean of ending Voldemort's threat. Without actually killing him, which made her uneasy.

And even if it presented difficulties, such as How to make him actually drink the bloody potion, it had been a start.

But now there was nothing. Nothing left. Even less than before. Because now, she knew that killing the evil wizard wasn't even a solution, because he could take another body again. It was his soul that had to be killed, and that made her even more uneasy than the thought of killing his body.

To destroy a soul… it was Dementorish.

When Harry came back in Gryffindor, it was quite late, and he expected the common room to be empty. Instead, he found Ron and Hermione sitting in front of the hearth.

When he heard him come, Ron glanced at him hopelessly, then looked at Hermione. For the last hour, he had tried to make her talk, explain what happened to put her in such a haze, but to no avail.

But now Harry was back, so he would as usual make her laugh, or smile at least, or both. So he didn't even have to stay there, he would only be in their way. Cerebrals meetings… he had better leave!

But as he made his way to the stairs, Hermione's hand suddenly grabbed his and forced him to sat back next to her.

Harry, too, sat on her opposite side, and waited for her to speak. When she didn't, he asked:

"So, did you found what you wanted?"

"No," she answered simply, looking away.

"Oh. And what was it? If it's so important, maybe we can help you," he answered back, and Ron nodded eagerly, as if hours of library search was his life's dream.

"It's useless. Everything I can think of is useless!"

She suddenly got up and began pacing back and fourth between the two, whispering:

"I thought maybe you had found the way, Harry. To end this war without killing anyone. What you said made me think of an old potion I once read of. The Ysalar Draught. It was meant to deprive someone of his or her magical abilities. Used on criminals… before Dementors were created.

"But, apart from the fact that Voldemort would have to drink it, it would be useless on him. Yes, the body he's currently in would be magic-less, but what could prevent him from doing the rite again, like in fourth year, and acquire another?

"The only thing that could definitely kill him would be if a Dementor sucked his soul, but no one can control them! And I'm not even sure that would really work. And it would be horrible. Worse than killing him.

"Nothing can get in his way. Nothing I can think of can stop him. I'm useless!"

With that, she sat back between them, and began crying on Ron's shoulders, who stared blankly at her hair, then timidly patted her head.

Harry's mind was on everything she said. Yes, they were doomed. Hermione was right. All they could do was destroy again and again the bodies he would be in, gaining a little peace between two…

Well, if it was the only thing he could do, he would. How much time of peace would it get them until the Death Eaters renewed the blood rite? If he somehow could make the potion (and it had to be difficult), then found the mean to make the Bastard drink it?

And how many times would Wormtail agree to give up a hand, or a leg, or anything… just to allow his master to revive…

He suddenly had an ugly thought. Wormtail, all covered by scars and silver members. Ugh.

At least he could perhaps prevent Voldemort to take his blood this time, so he wouldn't be as powerful as he was now.

That sounded like the beginning of a plan.

Because if he couldn't bring himself to kill the evil bastard, he certainly couldn't even think of the possibility of using the Dementors. A horrifying vision engulfed him. Himself, bringing thousands of Dementors in a Death Eater's meeting, then laughing hysterically while one of the freaks sucked Tom Riddle's soul… no. No way.

On the sofa, Hermione had fallen asleep in Ron's shoulder, who seemed quite happy to hold her, so Harry left them and went to sleep. He wouldn't find the answer tonight.

Or perhaps he would. As he entered his dormitories, he saw the invisible cloak of his father on top of his trunk, and decided that a little look at the Potion section in the library was in order…