65
Harry landed so hard that the wind was knocked out of him. The moment he breathed in, a sharp pain emanated from his shoulder. He reached up and felt something sticking out of his shoulder, something long and thin. With horrifying comprehension, he realized that his wand was sticking out of his shoulder. He gingerly pulled at the wooden stick, wincing as he felt as if his shoulder was on fire. A sudden dread filled him to his core when he saw only half of his wand was in his hand. His white school shirt was covered in blood. He rolled to his side, the movement causing him to cry out and his vision begin to swim out of focus. He must have passed out because when he awoke next the room was cast in long shadows.
He painstakingly stood up and saw debris and splintered wood everywhere. It looked like a great battle had taken place in this old house. Part of the roof was missing exposing the house to the elements. There was a scattering of snow covering an old moldy sofa and crushed tables and chairs scattered throughout.
He turned around and could see a broken staircase leading up to the second story. He cradled his arm close to his chest as each step seemed to send a painful shock through his body. He was just going to step into the next room when he saw a picture frame on the floor. He picked it up and was shocked to see his mum and dad. With a sudden realization he knew exactly where he was. This was Godric's Hollow! How had he ended up here? His parents stared back at him, both so young and carefree as they danced in each others arms. He held onto the picture frame curious to continue exploring the house now.
Through the next doorway he could see a kitchen with a table on its side and crushed chairs. The cabinets were opened and bare with small piles of rubbish that looked like nests for the numerous mice that now inhabited the home.
He made his way up to the second story, stepping carefully over two broken steps and then hugging the wall at a place that had a gaping hole on the step. He walked down a hallway with moldy wooden floors, stopping to open the first door. There was a large bed and dresser with pictures scattered about on the dresser and nightstands. He walked into the room and saw that most of the pictures were of him as a baby. Some were frozen as if they were taken with a muggle camera while others moved. He picked one up of his mum holding him close. She leaned down and kissed his small head. He couldn't stop staring at the picture. The baby in the picture looked to be so content and happy as he snuggled in his mum's arms. How many time in his life had he dreamed of having a picture like this?
His heart resonated with a painful memory as he was brought back to his time at the Dursley's, and how he had longed for just one picture of himself to be included with the hundreds of pictures of Dudley covering the walls and tables. Yet here he was, standing in a bedroom with pictures of him everywhere. His heart warmed when he realized he had once been cherished and loved just as much as Dudley had ever been. He sat down on the bed when he felt tears begin to drip down is face. He would have given anything to have had his mum and dad raise him, anything to have not grown up feeling as if he was worthless and a burden.
He rubbed at his eyes, knowing he couldn't change what was. He didn't want to long for something that was not possible. After a few minutes he placed both pictures on the nightstand next to a picture of an elderly couple. The woman looked a bit like Aunt Petunia but much older and he knew that these must be his grandparents. His shoulder gave a sharp twinge bringing him out of his revelry and into the present.
He left the bedroom and walked further down the hallway in search of something to staunch the flow of blood coming from his shoulder. There was a door lying on the hallway floor that looked to be cracked in two. The bedroom was the nursery his mum had died in protecting him from Voldemort. He'd seen it thousands of times in his nightmares. There was still a hole in the ceiling and soft white snow was beginning to build up on the rotted furniture, along with a broken crib and toys that had long ago been destroyed by the elements. He didn't want to see this room, the place where his life had forever changed.
He walked past that room and found a bathroom. The door had been shut and the ceiling was still intact so it was just covered in dust but almost looked to be stuck in a time warp. There was still a bar of soap on the counter and shampoo in the shower along with a few towels hanging on the hooks. It was really odd to think that the last people to have used those items was his parents.
He opened the medicine cabinet, hoping to find anything to help with his wounded shoulder. The potions were at least fifteen years old. He imagined what his dad would say to him if he ended up being poisoned by old potions. Severus would lecture him for years if he made that mistake. He found a towel that looked to be in somewhat good condition considering how old it was. He stuffed that into his shirt, pressing down on the wound. He winced as his fingers probed his tender shoulder. He could feel part of the wand under the skin but he couldn't get a grip on it to pull it out. He wondered how much blood a wizard could loose before dying?
He shivered as the cold wind picked up and raced through the house. As he was walking back to his parent's bedroom, he stopped at the door to the nursery. He felt a pull to go into the little bedroom. With hesitation he stepped into the small room and a sudden whoosh of magic seemed to welcome him. He stood still as he tried to figure out what was causing the mysterious energy. He closed his eyes so he could concentrate on the magic emanating from the very walls.
It hit him like a bolt of lightening that he was feeling the wash of Voldemort's killing curse that had been cast over fifteen years ago. His magical core welcomed the surrounding magic like a long lost brother. His magic had never felt more alive than it did right now.
Harry quickly backed toward the open doorway, horrified that he was reveling in the very curse that had killed his mother!
He suddenly heard someone laughing in a sinister tone. It was faint but he was sure he had heard it!
He felt a chill run down his spine as he walked down the hallway as fast as he could.
His head spun with the idea that Voldemort's spirit could still be in this house. No, no that couldn't be. He felt like he was going mad and hearing things that weren't even there.
He didn't like the idea that his inner core felt so at home here. Maybe his dad had been right in requiring him to wear the magical bands? Maybe Severus could see the monster he was turning into.
The truth was, everyone around him could feel that dangerous energy that emanated from his very core. Ron and Hermione had a way of "handling" him whenever he showed any kind of now that he thought about it, they were probably scared that he might loose control. None of his friends would ever forget his behavior in the infirmary and how he'd almost brought down the castle. The truth was, he unequivocally knew, that if his dad hadn't stopped him last night, he just might have brought down the dungeon walls in his bedroom. He wished now that he hadn't thrown the magical bands away. He didn't care how much it hurt, he just wanted to be free from the blackness he felt pulsing within.
He quickly walked into his parent's bedroom, slamming the door behind him. It was freezing in the house and he couldn't tell if that coldness was caused by how afraid he was now or if it was truly the elements. He felt a wave of dizziness go through him and his teeth began to chatter. He held on to the dresser until the dizziness passed. His hands felt like they were frozen and his fingers looked a bit blue.
He opened the closet to look for something warm to wear. He found a dusty heavy leather cape lined with black fur. He shook it out with his good arm, then struggled to put it on. He finally managed to get it over his shoulders and then closed the heavy metal lion clasp. He breathed in deeply picking up a faint spicy scent that must have been his dad's. It felt so odd but heart warming to be wearing something that had once belonged to his dad. Even odder yet to be standing in a bedroom that had been furnished and used by his parents.
Merlin, this was all so surreal. He wondered what had brought him here? He didn't mean to apparate out of the castle, it had just happened. He knew he needed to get away from Severus but he had no forethought of actually leaving that way. Merlin, his dad was gong to be so mad at him.
It was unsettling to think that Voldemort had been in this very house. He knew now that he'd rather be a squibb than live with that dark magic mixed within him.
He pulled open the cloak and looked down at the towel stuffed in his shirt, shocked that it was almost completely soaked in blood now. Fatigue came over him, and he knew that he was in trouble. The sudden bone weary exhaustion made his head spin and his limbs feel like he'd been struck with the jelly legs jinx.
He had to get help. He grasped the door handle and pulled but it didn't budge. He twisted as hard as he could but the door remained locked shut. He tried to use wandless magic to open the door but nothing happened. He was beginning to panic at the idea of being stuck here and bleeding out. He kicked at the door with all of his might but the door remained firmly shut. There was clearly some sort of magic at work here, he could feel it in the room. There was one small window in the room and he knew before he even tried that it wouldn't break. Even still he tried to break the window but to no avail.
Exhaustion overcame him and he was forced to sit down. He felt so defeated. If he could just lie down for a few minutes then maybe he could get a second wind and take another go at the window.
He toed his boots off and then laid down on the bed as his fright ebbed into acceptance. He felt so defeated. Tears formed in the corners of his eyes making him blink them away. He'd given up everything so that Voldemort wouldn't be here anymore yet the dark bastard had managed to still taint his life. He hated the idea that Voldemort had invaded his home.
As he looked up at the ceiling he knew that this house had once been filled with love and he tried to grasp onto that thought. His parents had been good people, people who wanted to fight evil. Had they known that their fight for justice would cost them everything? This wasn't fair. His tears blurred his vision until he finally shut his eyes. Within minutes he drifted into sleep.
His dreams were filled with baby laughter, warm embraces and a mum and dad who looked at him as if he was their whole world.
Severus could barely contain his anger at the Slytherin standing before him.
"I swear to Merlin, I didn't know anything about the bracelets, Severus!" Draco pleaded, keeping an eye on the wand that Severus was clutching with a white knuckle grip. "Potter lied to me!"
Severus narrowed his eyes at the boy as he took a menacing step closer. "Did it ever occur to you to ask me before you did anything as idiotic as to remove them?'
Draco shook his head, "He said they were from Weasleys joke shop and they were turning his hand blue so I just, …"
"Enough! You are to get them back or risk expulsion. They are literally priceless artifacts that can never be replaced. Get Harry's friends to help you and do not talk about this with anyone else." Severus used his wand to throw open his apartment door. He turned his back on the Slytherin and stared into the fire.
"I'll find them," Draco whispered before leaving.
Severus was at a complete loss as to where his son could have gone to. He'd checked everywhere including Snape Manor, the little cabin in the woods, Black's house, and had even checked the Dursley residence much to the chagrin of Vernon Dursley. It had taken everything Severus had to keep himself from hexing the obtuse man.
Harry's elf friends had not been able to locate Harry either and that scared Severus more than anything else. Elf magic, most especially an elf as dedicated as Dobby, should be able to locate the boy. Now his last hope was all he had left.
He knew this disaster was all his fault. He'd let his fear get the best of him and struck a boy who he'd promised to protect from such actions. How could the boy ever trust him again? He hadn't listened when Harry had pleaded with him to take him away from here. Harry had clearly been at the end of his endurance.
He went back to his desk and picked up the large tomb and turned to the page flagged with a feather quill. As it turned out, the magical bands had just been a temporary fix because Voldemort's darkness seemed to be getting too strong for Harry to control. Severus had finally hit upon the mention of a man from 1772 who had been tainted with the dark magic of another. It spoke of a way that the man was able to separate the dark magic from the wizards own magic and then siphon out just the dark magic. It was diabolical but the method had worked. Albus had left early this morning to see if he could locate the one and only person who could help them implement the plan.
Severus did not want to resort to going through with the plan and had hoped to have more time to research another way, however those plans were dashed once he found out that Harry no longer had the magical bands on. They'd be working against the clock to begin the plan or risk Voldemort's dark magic to become stronger than Harry's own magic. It took immense power to break the wards and apparate out of the castle, way more power than Harry had. It had become obvious to Severus that the dark magic within Harry was growing by the day.
Hedwig flew in large circles over an abandoned ruin of a house but was not able to get through the wards. She finally landed on the mailbox at the neighbors house. She used her beak to pull out an envelope from the mailbox. Although she was exhausted, she knew that she needed to get back to the castle as fast as her wings could carry her.