In Memory: Uncle Mouse and Auntie Janice
I've been writing like a crazy person to help direct my emotional baggage into fiction rather than drinking it down. I'm historically bad about repressing my emotions.
My heart goes out to everyone who is grieving or living with the anxiety that someone you love is at risk. Especially in these times when public hysteria is heightened and it is easy to feel your own pain, and loss is drowned out in the din. There is nothing wrong with fear and sorrow. Please remember that all suffering is real and that you are deserving of love. Know too that you are not alone and the dark does exist so that we might see the stars; that we might remember what we were given and what we have left to live for.
Chapter 15 - Perhaps Greater
Harry found himself looking in a mirror again, only he wasn't seeing his own reflection, but Ted, Andromeda, and Nymphadora Tonks staring at Lucius, Narcissa, and Draco, because Narcissa Malfoy had just showed Harry the most useful thing he hadn't learned in Divination.
Scrying mirrors.
It was a spell that worked on just about any reflective surface. Why hadn't Trawlney taught them something like that?
"What do you want?" Andromeda demanded.
Narcissa spoke coldly, "We need help breaking a curse."
Andromeda crossed her arms. "On what?"
Narcissa held Harry up, so Harry did his best to play extra cute by raising up slightly and flicking his tongue.
"A snake?" Andromeda asked dryly.
Draco grew impatient. "It's Harry Potter. Can you help him so we can get rid of the Dark Lord?"
"Since when do the Malfoys want to kill You-Know-Who?" Tonks asked.
"Dora," Ted warned.
"Since now," Narcissa said. "It is a preservation curse. His magic is looped to keep it engaged and to keep him a snake."
"A Maledictus curse?" Andromeda asked.
"Isn't Harry Potter dead?" Ted asked.
Narcissa ignored Ted but answered her sister, "If it is, he has no control over it."
"Isn't that a female curse?" Tonks asked.
"If he had a daughter, it would pass to her daughter. It is passed by blood," Narcissa provided.
"Where are you?" Andromeda asked.
"House arrest, we are warded in. Can you help him?"
Andromeda met Harry's gaze for a long moment before saying, "Yes. The good news is that if it is a variation on the Maledictus curse, he just needs to start the transformation and it will unravel. The bad news is that if he loses control afterwards, well, all the negative fallouts of a failed animagus shift, such as permanent disfigurement or death, is more likely."
"He can't stay like this," Narcissa argued.
"No, he can't," Andromeda agreed. She looked back at Harry. "All right, little serpent, are you ready for an advanced lesson in the Dark Arts of the Transfiguration branch of magic?"
Harry bobbed his head in assent.
"Wait," Tonks said to her mother. "How do you know about the Dark Arts?"
"Because she is a Black," Narcissa, Draco, Lucius, and Ted said in unison.
Tonks blinked. "Okay, then. Let's save the Boy Who Lived with the Dark Arts."
"There's a sentence I never thought I would hear," Draco said mildly.
Narcissa shook her head. "Lily Potter saved him using the Dark Arts."
"What are you talking about?" Ted asked. "Lily Potter would never use the Dark Arts. Besides, she was a muggle-born like me, how would she even get ahold of the books necessary to find a curse that could withstand the Killing Curse? The wizarding families hoard that knowledge."
Harry was glad someone asked that question.
"She was best friends with Severus Snape," Lucius said in answer.
"Pulchra Sacrificium," Andromeda said. "A Beautiful Sacrifice. It's an ancient curse that requires the death of both blood parents delivered by the same person who attempts to kill the child. If it had worked as it was supposed to, the Dark Lord should have died along with her. The curse, well, more of a ritual, really, takes an immense amount of power to enact. It isn't particularly useful or successful due to the rarity of a single murder of an entire family in a war. Still, it is a testament to Lily Potter's gifts that she was able to save her son and defeat a Dark Lord who managed to cripple an entire country."
Harry felt his heart twist. As he had always believed, his mother had been the hero all along. She had saved him and the entire Wizarding World. He would honour her by continuing to fight, to live. He could do no less for what she and his father had given: a beautiful sacrifice.
Because his parents were beautiful, as had been their love and hope for a better tomorrow.
Two Months Later - October 31st, 1995
Kingsley was angry at the world, angry at himself, and when the first explosion took out half the Aurors' floor, he knew they would not be prepared for what came next.
Someone called into the room clouded by dust, "Get Dumbledore!"
"No!" Kingsley bellowed. "Don't you dare leave Hogwarts unprotected!"
Severus had been feeding the information on Voldemort's planned assault on the castle for months. Mainly through magical creatures that had a proven history of getting past Hogwarts wards.
Of course, with Severus's intel, Hogwarts would be prepared for such an assault.
The same could not be said of the Ministry, as pandemonium destroyed any hope of a formal evacuation.
Amelia summoned her Patronus to notify the Order of the Phoenix, located at Grimmauld Place.
Kingsley sent out his own Patronus, directing it to Severus.
When the second explosion went off, Kingsley was not at all surprised at what he heard: "Minister Fudge is dead!"
On one hand, Severus knew he shouldn't rely on children to save them. On the other hand, Viktor Krum, the Weasley Devils, and Fleur Delacour were all of age, and were a more competent force than ninety percent of the students to pass through Hogwarts. Plus Hermione Granger, who had followed them, and Severus was beyond done trying to keep what was once the Golden Trio in line.
Granger had survived being Harry Potter's friend for four years; more, if what Harry had said about his future-past was any indication. Severus was well past trying to keep them away from danger when they were too often in the exact centre of it.
He could only hope that Harry arrived in time, as the Order of the Phoenix, behind Dumbledore's back, had decided that it was best for the Headmaster and Minerva to stay at Hogwarts.
Harry's story of how the future had turned out could not come to pass again. If more blood was spilt, it would not be done on Hogwarts' soil.
Severus could only hope that Harry would figure out how to break free of his curse soon.
Ever since the Death Eater numbers diminished when Harry spawned his Obscurus, the Dark Lord had become ever more vicious.
As Severus exited the Floo, he glanced at the expressions of George and Fred Weasley, and he almost pitied their enemies.
Almost.
The twins pulled on invisibility hats, hopped on their brooms, then proceeded to rain down fire and terror on the mass of cloaked assailants. Sure, they were beautiful fireworks, but even the Dark Lord, marked by the cursed fire he was wielding and his deceptive youth among the older men, was startled by the swarm of rainbow pigeons that exploded in time to the notes of the British anthem.
Severus had to hand it to the twins. Their grades may have been poor, but they were far more clever and gifted than the infamous Prewett twins ever were.
Viktor joined the twins in disguise upon his broom, and his hexes and curses started sniping the Dark Lord's followers.
Fleur and Hermione stayed with Severus. Together, they carved a path through the hordes still spilling into the Ministry of Magic. Fleur's wand-work was as impressive as the super-heated white flames that spilled from her free hand.
"Traitor!" Yaxley bellowed at him.
Severus nearly smiled as he snuffed out the bastard's life.
Fleur charred Selwyn's face off as Hermione shielded her side.
Taking no prisoners appeared to be the motto of the evening.
Of the old guard, Severus was one of the last. Goyle had taken his son and fled the country, perhaps the smartest thing the man had ever done in his life. While Avery and Rowle had received the Dementor's Kiss when they lingered too long at St. Mungo's.
The halls of the Ministry were transformed into a warzone; a battle unlike any Severus had ever seen before.
And perhaps anyone else for that matter, as spontaneous bogs, complete with ponds, mud, and a plethora of frogs, came into being like dandelions dotting a grassy field.
The only thing that really defined sides were the three invisible teenagers on broomsticks and the gathering of Aurors, who were marked conveniently by their uniforms, which Kingsley had insisted they wear.
It was not particularly wise, as it put targets on the backs, but it did mean the Aurors weren't taking or delivering friendly fire.
The Dark Lord, with his army, had the superior numbers, and the cowards of the Ministry had either joined the opposing side or ran away.
Severus doubted he would survive today, but he was at peace with that.
Andromeda's call came that evening: Nymphadora Tonks was in an active war for the heart of their nation.
Now or never, was the implicit message.
Harry pressed his side into Nagini's, opening himself up to the magic, the curses that surrounded them, to the broken core of his magic.
He had been able to meditate with his magic, and found it black and shimmering; beyond sick, it existed as a second heartbeat, distinct from his own.
But they were born of each other, and Harry mourned that he had pushed his own hurt onto such a gift. Because that was what magic was: something that had always been with him, always fighting to keep him safe, and even now, when he could no longer control it, the Obscurus still responded to Harry's emotions and needs.
So despite his core being twisted and dark, he reached for it and asked for its help. Asked it to help him untangle the curses that had been placed on him and Nagini.
While Voldemort's curse had bound Harry, the Obscurus was able to slip past it, exploring the threads and webbing. It was as curious as a child, as feral as a starved dog, but it wasn't unintelligent.
Harry let out a long breath as the transformation spilled over him like slipping into a hot bath.
Nagini morphed beside him.
It was faster than Harry had imagined it would be, for all the work he had done studying with the two Black sisters and Sirius, who had been reunited with his cousins. Everyone had known, intellectually, that Harry was a snake staying with the Malfoys, but apparently Voldemort had enacted the Fidelius Charm in addition to his other wards to keep them in, to much success.
Which rankled more than a little.
Nagini gasped, her black hair spilling around her pale face as she curled into Harry's side.
Harry wrapped his arms around her and said in English, "You're free."
Her hands fisted in his shirt as she let out a sharp laugh before succumbing to sobs. Slowly, Harry sat up, rubbing her back. He motioned Draco over to them and transferred Nagini to him.
"Stay with her," Harry commanded.
"I can fight—"
"No," Harry, Narcissa, and Lucius said firmly.
"We can't break the wards," Lucius said.
"I can," Harry said, and opened his hand. "Accio wands."
The sound of an overturned bookshelf sounded through the intact part of the Manor, then four wands came to his grasp.
"Are you bloody kidding me!?" Draco exclaimed.
"Voldemort always was arrogant fuck," Harry replied, tossing the correct wands to their masters. "It's why he keeps losing."
He walked toward the front door, gathering his magic. Nagini caught his hand before he got more than two steps.
"Thank you, Harry."
He squeezed her hand. "I'm going to murder him."
That got a smile out of her, her brown eyes shining. "Good."
She let him go, and he continued to his destination. He could feel the Obscurus pushing at him, begging for his attention as much as it was trying to escape him.
His Obscurus hated him as much as it loved him.
Harry threw the front door upon and pointed his holly wand toward the sky, and brought down the world.
Fleur was tiring, forced to turn to defence as the horde corralled them together. Their numbers were so small, they had no choice but to take care of each other.
She was amazed at how many people had answered Voldemort's call, how desperate people were in this country that they couldn't tell the difference between corruption and tyranny.
Kingsley Shacklebolt, Sirius Black, and Snape were locked in a duel with the Dark Lord. The teenage boy, who was really an old man, looked furious.
His fury revealed the monster beneath his classically 'handsome' features.
They were losing.
The Weasley twins had run out of tricks and were fighting beside Fleur and Hermione. Fleur was determined to take as many of them out as she could before the end.
Her only regret in such a death was not being able to say adieu to Harry.
Of course, no sooner than she had thought that than several cracks of apparition sounded over the din.
Harry, wand blazing, along with two blondes, Narcissa and Lucius Malfoy, and Andromeda Tonks appeared.
Sirius Black howled, and a battle cry sounded from the Aurors that Fleur herself joined.
Four people, reasonably, shouldn't have turned the tide.
But they did. Narcissa and Andromeda were two shades of death, and Lucius's presence seemed to confuse the horde at his spells being directed at them.
And Harry?
Harry was magnifique.
His magic seemed to cow his opponents as if he were a boulder tossed into a lake.
"The Boy Who Lived!" the cry went out, echoing to the ceiling on wings of renewed hope. "The Boy Who Lived! He's here! He's here!"
"Harry Potter!"
Voldemort's attention was drawn, and Snape nearly got him in his distraction.
Fleur was relieved to be back on the offensive.
Voldemort's followers were breaking, but some fought with more desperation.
She lost sight of Harry. She wasn't sure how long passed, but she caught sight of Harry's godfather.
He was laughing.
The Black family was crazy.
His cousins, Narcissa and Andromeda—two women Fleur would eternally be grateful to for confirming Harry was alive—joined together yards away from Sirius to form a shield. However, it was too close to Sirius, and when the shield broke, the blowback knocked him off his feet.
She heard Harry's voice, "SIRIUS!"
Fleur's heart broke. She started fighting to make it through.
Sirius was fine. He was fine!
But that wasn't what Harry had seen.
No, he had just seen his godfather fall.
Again.
"Everyone, drop!"
Fleur spun at the voice.
It was Hermione, her wand to her throat. It took too long for Fleur to register her warning, even as she watched people, Aurors, duck for cover…
Realized too late that Harry was the danger.
Harry hadn't reached Voldemort when he saw Sirius cut down.
No more, no more, no more, NO MORE!
He didn't even try to hold back the Obscurus, and because he did not fight it, he became the Obscurial, the host, the Obscurus, the tumour.
All his rage, and sorrow, and fear tore through the people who stood between him and the object of his despair.
Harry knew what he looked like: a skinny boy with glasses and scars, nothing special, no one worth noticing but for the sheer extent of his scars.
But now?
Now, he was a storm. He was the lightning within the storm. Light bursting from black clouds.
He knew he was moving fast; still he saw their deaths, and even the ones he didn't kill fell with cries.
He paused before Voldemort. Let him try to fight us!
Voldemort raised his wand toward him, his brown hair whipped around his face, his red-tinted eyes wide with shock.
Wide with fear.
Tom Marvolo Riddle, human again.
Mortal again.
Harry laughed, which came out in dazzling sparks of life.
Who was the monster now?
Voldemort's curse fed into Harry's strength.
And then, Harry attacked him.
He tore into the bâtarde. The Obscurus ravaged his soul.
Harry felt Voldemort die, felt it ring in his soul.
They had been brothers, in a twisted sort of way.
He threw Tom's body up, then dropped it. He watched it drop, enjoyed the lifelessness in him, Tom's fear he still tasted.
"Harry!"
The Obscurus whipped around.
Sirius stood, his expression etched with horror.
Harry reeled. Sirius is alive?
His confusion drew him, Harry, to the surface, but the Obscurus wasn't having it. Now that it was in control, full control, it would not go back.
It would not go back to being condensed, neglected, underestimated.
Harry had walked them to their death, and the Obscurus had no wish to be destroyed. Unlike Harry, it had always wanted to live, to be.
How dare Harry think he was better, when it was the Obscurus who had shielded Harry's soul from the parasite; the Obscurus who had saved him from bullies and his aunts. The creature who had freed him from a lifetime as a magicless animal.
The Obscurus was the only thing good about Harry, and Harry had lost his right to a person when he gave up, again, and again, and again.
"Mon 'Arry!"
This time, even the Obscurus turned.
They looked at this woman, this woman who was more than human, who was fire incarnate.
"'Arry!" she called, cheek bloody, her silver hair illuminated by the Obscurial's light, haloed by the wind. "'Arry, please! You're hurting people!" She touched her own bloody cheek.
Horror overcame them, and Harry fought the Obscurus, tearing himself apart because hurting people, hurting Fleur, was inexcusable.
He loved her, and he couldn't survive losing anyone else. He would rather die.
He would rather die.
The Obscurus, in reprisal of Harry's thoughts, pulled free of him; not merely in control, but separate.
Outside of him.
Harry, back in his human form, went weak in the knees as he stared at the black mist in the nucleus of a shimmering orb of magic. Fleur caught him around the waist, lowering him to the ground as the Obscurus floated above them.
"Mon 'Arry," Fleur exhaled, kissing his forehead, holding him close.
He gazed around the room, feeling impossibly weak. Sirius stood not far behind with his cousins, Snape, the twins, Hermione, Viktor, and Kingsley.
The fighting had stopped.
Voldemort was dead, his mortal corpse stricken with bruise-like marks was a testament to such.
The war was won.
And though people were dead, this time it wasn't children. Whatever force had been directed at Hogwarts could not have made it past Dumbledore, Minerva, and Flitwick.
Not when Voldemort had come here and Bellatrix Lestrange had been long gone.
But Harry felt so exhausted, so tired; split in two in a literal sense.
Fleur raised her wand, but he placed his hand over hers and shook his head.
"We have to kill it, Harry," Snape said, almost sadly.
Harry shook his head again and tried to stand as the Obscurus grew agitated, the wind building. Fleur didn't protest, just leant her strength to him to help him stand.
He had been told to fear the Obscurus, to fight it, but it wasn't an it or an 'other'.
It was his own magic.
It was himself.
The part of himself he had violated and neglected for far too long.
An Obsrusus was born from abuse, from the act of suppressing one's own magic, so that the magic turned Dark and escaped control.
But his magic wasn't an it. It was him. And no one had done as much damage to his magic as himself. He could put it on the adults, on Dumbledore, the Dursleys, Voldemort, the death that dogged him.
It was those things, those people, that made him feel unworthy and unloved, who manipulated and injured him.
But it was Harry who took on responsibility without asking for help, who blamed himself for things beyond his control, who had walked to his death without even trying to defend himself.
He was Voldemort's equal, Dumbledore's equal, the most powerful wizard in an age, and he had shied away from embracing that. He had never pushed himself as far as Hermione had. He had never so much as believed in himself, not truly.
Instead, he had left his magic in the dark, let it handle the Horcrux, never pushing past his own stubbornness to learn Occlumency for himself. He had let himself be weak because, more than life, more than magic, more than anything in the world, he had wanted to fit in.
So he had half-assed his education, half-assed a lot of things, and gotten unjustly angry with himself when he didn't get a spell that he put a tenth of the energy he should have put into learning it.
The first time he had met a Dementor, he had almost welcomed the Kiss, just to hear his mother's voice.
Was it surprising that his magic had grown feral and Dark, that there was something wrong with it because it was simply too much power to go unused, to be forced to submit to death time and time again?
No, it was not a surprise.
The Obscurus began to splinter, the wind billowing out from it as if it truly were a contained thunderstorm, a hurricane caught in a bubble.
If Harry did not stop it, it—he—would destroy everything in this room, hurt everyone he loved most in the world.
Fleur held him tighter and called out to him over a gale of his own making, "You are the most beautiful man I've ever known, and I love you with all that I am."
He turned to meet her gaze, the magic of the Obscurus reflecting like starlight in her blue eyes, and said his truth, "Je t'aime."
Then he turned away from the light of her to offer a hand to his magic, to the Obscurus that had torn apart the world and saved them all.
It was not pain without purpose.
His magic rushed back to him, and Harry knew that, unlike the Dark Lord, he would die as a man.
oOo
When Harry next opened his eyes, Fleur, the love of his life, nearly strangled him.
"Don't you ever do that to me again!" she roared, then continued to cuss him out in French.
He cupped her cheek and kissed her mid-tirade.
Her passion tasted sweet on his lips.
The next thing he knew, he was in the centre of a massive group hug.
"Your parents," Sirius said, "would be so proud."
"I know," Harry said with a grin.
He caught Snape rolling his eyes, but when he caught Harry's gaze, the Potion Master bowed his head in thanks.
The twins ruffled his hair.
"Guess you get to reclaim your title as the Boy Who Lived," Fred said.
George added, "And you actually saved Britain this time."
Harry grinned, "Nah, it's still my mum's doing."
Fleur kissed his hand before returning his wand to him. "Harry James Potter, you are the most magnificent man I've ever known."
Harry pressed his forehead to hers.
"Fleur, can I ask you something?"
"N'importe quoi."
"'I am looking for someone to share in an adventure that I am arranging, and it's very difficult to find anyone,'" he quoted.
Hermione and Viktor started laughing, leaning on each other like two drunks as the adrenaline crash hit them.
Fleur grinned and quoted back at Harry, "'The world is indeed full of peril, and in it there are many dark places; but still there is much that is fair, and though in all lands love is now mingled with grief, it grows perhaps greater.'"
"Show off," he teased, because of course Fleur would hit back with a Haldir quote. She was, after all, not just part Veela, but at least spiritually part Tolkien elf.
She raised her chin, her blue eyes like the sparkling of sunlight off the sea. "Toujours."
Harry pulled Fleur to him and kissed her under the sunlit sky, and he cared not where they were or that they were in the sights of many.
He loved her for her, and her for him, and in the end, love was all that had ever mattered.
Fin