AN:
Music tip: "No Good Deed" from the musical Wicked.
Warning: Partly graphic depictions of violence in this chapter.
Many thanks to my great beta reader Verlor (id: 1113787) for his fantastic help with this chapter.
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Chapter 27 – Deeply Wounded Birds
Careful not to be seen by anyone, Severus crept away from the roaring crowd, pulling Crouch behind him. He had waited long enough for Potter to disappear into the maze, but now he couldn't hesitate any longer.
He just hoped Lily would forgive him; that was the only thing left for him now. All precautions had been made; Potter's fate was sealed. He was going to die tonight, there was no doubt about that. Tonight, the magical world would change forever, its history written in blood.
Daphne's trembling hands brushed Fawkes' plumage in her lap while she just couldn't look away from the large magical mirrors set up in front of the stands, one for each champion. With a pounding heart, she had watched Harry enter the maze as the last of the four champions, the result of his five measly points from the first task and his disqualification in the second. She had suppressed her laughter when she had shown Harry the path through the maze, which the audience had been aware of the entire time, thanks to another mirror with a bird's eye view. And above all, she had cheered, rejoiced, even triumphed when Harry had bit by bit dropped his mask to finally show the whole world what they were capable of.
Krum – turned into a pig after pathetic resistance, ugly as the face of the wizarding world.
Delacour - strapped to the back of a gigantic stunk, screaming in misery, echoing the horrified spectators.
Diggory – petrified in the mud, in place of all the other students who tainted Hogwarts' honor.
Oh yes, it had been gratification for Daphne to see his opponents so humiliated, a sentiment she shared with Harry. They had had enough of all the anonymous insults, the accusations, the lurid newspaper articles naming Harry a cheater, unworthy of being a Triwizard Champion, without any decency.
Every single hate letter that had been sent to them in the past few months, every disdainful look, every disgusting rumor had bloated their anger in a way that Daphne had never seen before. For years they had endured it, allowing people to slag them off, hurting them, causing them pain and suffering, over and over.
Never again!
Never again would they put up with that.
They would prove it to everyone, to all the miserable wretches. With every creature Harry had slain, with every taken life, the howling crowd had grown quieter, their faces pale with horror as if they couldn't believe what was happening. Even she would've had her doubts if she hadn't felt the pull on her soul every time Harry unleashed the demonic forces. Just like they had trained every day since their ritual. Concealed in the Room of Requirement, hidden from the world, they indulged in the dangerous, intoxicating, yet so beautiful magic with which they would break their chains.
Hagrid had screamed in pain and grief when Harry turned his beloved Skrewts into a pile of rotting meat, food for flies. Had the half-giant not cowardly turned away from them, Daphne might have felt sorry, but so, she only felt deep and pure satisfaction.
Boggarts, matagots, gigantic wolves, they all had fallen under Harry's wand, slashed, burned, dismembered. The maze had turned into a slaughterhouse, a graveyard just outside Hogwarts.
Lupin next to her was trembling all over, his face covered in sweat, his eyes wide with terror. Slowly, very slowly, he turned his head to Daphne, as if seeing her for the first time. "What did you do to Harry?" he asked hoarsely, his voice full of accusations.
The old Daphne, the Daphne before the ritual, had often asked herself this question, reproaching herself for leading Harry on a dark path, imagining that without her he could be much happier, loved and cherished by their fellow men. But that Daphne no longer existed.
"Me?!" she replied furiously, her heart blazing like a fire. Fawkes raised his head in curiosity. "What I did to Harry? Maybe what you did! You fucking cowards, you damn bastards. You delight in the suffering of children. You torture them. Every single day. You laugh at them. You attack them. No matter what we do, you never stop. You –"
Daphne paused. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Harry halt in his fight against a sphinx, sending her a concerned feeling. Daphne forced herself to breathe calmly. All's well, love, she thought, trying to exude reassurance. Kill the beast and come back to me.
Lupin looked at her in surprise. "W-what do you mean?" he stammered.
Daphne took a deep breath, trying to regain her usual, but in recent months increasingly crumbling calm, before snorting contemptuously, "Forget it. Harry and I are what we are."
"But that?" Lupin gestured towards the mirrors that showed Harry stepping past the freshly decapitated sphinx. "What's that?!"
Daphne shrugged. "Magic."
Suddenly she saw a huge spider leaping out of the darkness, its biters dripping with venom, directly towards the unsuspecting Harry. Frightened, she jumped up, ignoring Fawkes' angry cry.
Harry!
Harry felt a sudden jerk in his body as if his limbs were moving by themselves. He spun around. A quick flick of his wand, hissing sounds from his mouth, and a huge, pointed wooden pole appeared in front of him, impaling yet another Acromantula, just inches from his face. How many of the damned beasts had Hagrid put in this bloody maze?
Harry panted, his blood-covered arms, legs, and shoulders trembling, his throat hoarse from his past ecstatic screams. All of this was going on for far too long by now, he thought, feeling his strength running out. His heart was racing, and every breath caused him pain. However, the reactions of the other students, which he could imagine all too well from Daphne's emotions, filled him with an animalistic glee, enabling him to keep going. The old Harry, the Harry before the ritual, would probably have been terrified of himself, would've doubted his moral values, his humanity, but that Harry no longer existed.
They had enough of this world, enough of restraint and patience. With every betrayal, with every disgusted gaze, with every cowardly murmur behind their backs, the hatred, the anger, the fiery desire had grown within them. If the wizarding world despised them anyway, no matter what they did, they would give them a proper reason for it.
After today no one would dare to stand in their way anymore, to harass and slander them. If the other wizards and witches could neither like nor ignore them, they should fear them, as long as they just left him and Daphne alone.
Harry imagined throwing the Triwizard Cup at the damned judges' feet. He could imagine their disgusted faces all too well. Oh yes, he would enjoy that!
Just as he turned another corner, he saw a light ahead of him. Less than a hundred meters away, on a stone pillar, stood the shimmering Triwizard Cup, which had previously been placed there by Crouch and Bagman, the supposedly neutral judges of the tournament.
He did it, Harry rejoiced inwardly. With all the calm in the world, he walked towards the trophy, catching a sense of incredible pride from Daphne. In a moment, it would all be over, this damn tournament, this feverish dream of pain and blood.
He reached out for the cup, his fingertips only inches away from the shiny silver metal pulsating with magic. He just had to grab it and it would all be over. The world had learned its lesson tonight, it would leave them both alone. As soon as his fingers closed around the metal, the cup would take him to the entrance of the maze. He would take Daphne in his arms, kissing her long and hard. Together they would celebrate their victory, alone, as they had always been, but he didn't want it any other way.
Determined, he grasped the handle.
Instantly, Harry felt excruciating pain go through his limbs. He wanted to scream, fight, let go of the cup, but his body stopped moving. He couldn't loosen his grip around the trophy that was dragging him into an angry swirling storm of color and pain.
Daphne screamed. A sharp pain gripped her body. It felt like her heart was ripped out of her chest. Her connection to Harry broke off…
She noticed how hands grabbed her shoulder before everything went black around her.
Harry...
Harry felt his feet hit hard ground. The pain subsided, but he still couldn't move. He fell to the ground, his face covered in grass and dirt. The cup finally dropped out of his frozen fingers.
And then, without warning, Harry's scar flared in pain, much worse than during his forgotten nightmare in Alexandria, much worse than he'd ever experienced before. A disgusting stench filled his nose, reminding him of the rotting flesh from the maze.
"Welcome Harry," he heard a deadly, male voice that made his blood run cold. "Please forgive the somewhat uncomfortable means of transport, but I really wanted to have you with us at our gathering tonight. I heard that you are more of the impulsive kind, so I couldn't let you hurt my other guests, even if only accidentally."
The voice seemed familiar to Harry as if he'd heard it before, in a fading memory, but he couldn't remember. He tried with all his might to fight against his paralysis, to no avail. And the worst part was that he couldn't feel Daphne...
"But your current situation is a bit improper," the voice continued. "I cannot even see your face. No, this will not do. Barty, Narcissa, turn him around."
Harry felt arms grabbing his torso and legs and turning him around so that he was now looking at the dark, starry sky. Out of the corner of his eye, he could make out the outlines of several figures, towering shadows and a fire in the dark. One of the figures took his wand from his numb fingers. Long hair stroked his arm. A woman? Narcissa? Where had he heard the name before?
"You probably have a lot of questions, Harry," he heard the male voice again. "I'll answer them all at a later time when the rest of my guests have arrived. Until then, it is enough for you to know that I need your help. But don't worry, you don't have to do much. And you cannot refuse anyway." The figure laughed cheerlessly.
Harry's hair stood on end. Who was this man? And how did he know his voice? And how the hell could he escape?
"Bind him to the others," commanded the voice.
"Yes, my Lord," replied a male and female voice in unison.
Harry was grabbed and raised. Now, for the first time, he was able to look at his surroundings. Much was covered in darkness, but the sight was so unique, so iconic that Harry immediately recognized the place. Massive stone blocks, which he had previously only seen on television and from far away, towered around him. It was Stonehenge, but the place of his fascination had become the scene of a terrible nightmare.
The two figures that had grabbed him wore hooded cloaks hiding most of their faces. Still, Harry could tell that they were a man and a woman. And a few meters away from him stood another male figure, stooping, leaning on a wooden stick and wrapped in wide, dark robes. Reddish eyes were fixed directly on Harry, eerily sparkling. But most noticeable was the man's face, if it could be called a face at all. Instead of skin, he saw only open flesh dripped with pus, also deep holes where the nose and right ear should be. The man looked like a monster.
"Ah, forgive me, Harry, for seeing me like this," the man said, yellowish pus oozing from his wounds. "Not a pretty sight, I know. But soon, with your help, I will look better again, I promise."
The other two people, Barty and Narcissa, dragged Harry across the ground, past a huge snake that was slithering its way through the grass; and past a blazing fire over which an iron cauldron simmered. Another figure leaned over the cauldron and didn't look at Harry, but Harry would recognize the black cloak and greasy hair everywhere. What the hell was the bastard Snape doing here?
Reaching a large stone block, Harry saw two other people tied to the two stones to the left, their mouths stuffed with dirty gags. The person closer to Harry was a man with a scarred face. He was missing a considerable part of his nose, but he looked nowhere near as gruesome as the other hideous figure that was somewhere behind Harry's back. The man's left eye had been replaced by a bright blue crystal eye rolling wildly in his head. Harry had no idea who this man could be, but he immediately recognized who was chained to the second stone. It was Crouch, one of the judges, blinking fearfully and covered in sweat. What was he doing here?
Before Harry could see any more details, the man and woman in the hooded cloaks conjured ropes and pressed Harry's face against the stone. They spread his arms and legs, tying him to the block. One of them – Harry had no idea who – lifted the petrification spell. As soon as he was able to move again, however, Barty stuffed a piece of black fabric into his mouth.
"Hush, Potter," he hissed in his ear, his voice filled with feverish excitement. "The fun will start soon."
Harry made no sound; he could only move his head minimally, seeing only the stone in front of his face, and above him his tied wrists. Disapparating was also not possible. He was helpless at the mercy of his abductors who apparently left nothing to chance. He just wondered why, unlike the other two prisoners, he was tied with his back towards the inside of the stone circle...
"It'll take a few more minutes, my Lord," Harry heard Snape whisper in a low voice, apparently directed at the hideous figure Barty and Narcissa had already called their Lord. An awful guess formed in Harry...
"May I give Potter a little foretaste?" That had been Barty's voice again, this time almost begging.
There was silence for a few seconds before the Lord spoke again, "But only the left hand, he still has to be able to fight."
Harry heard hurried footsteps and finally saw Barty's grinning face in the corner of his eye, his teeth dirty and shimmering yellowish. "I'm going to hurt you a little now," Barty muttered. "Not a big deal, don't worry. And I'm getting better and better."
Barty then got a small, thin knife out of his cloak and brought it to his left hand, if Harry correctly interpreted the metallic shimmer and cold feeling. Carefully, the man used the knife to cut the skin of his little finger. The cut went from the fingertip to where the finger grew out of the palm. Here he made a second cut that stretched around the root of his finger like a thin bloody ring.
Harry felt queasy but just couldn't look away. What was this bastard doing with him? And how could he break free?
Carefully, Barty slid the narrow blade under the skin of his finger and began to detach it from the flesh. Harry couldn't do anything to prevent it, the ropes were too tight around him ... yet he desperately struggled against the bonds.
"Stay still, kid." With a jerk, Barty pulled the entire skin off the little finger. "Just look how good you can see your tendons and muscles. It hardly bleeds. It takes some practice to peel off skin so cleanly."
Harry felt sick. His finger burned as if he had held it in a flame. He didn't dare look at it.
The man named Barty was just putting his blade on the next finger when the mysterious Lord's voice rang out again, "That's enough, Barty. Severus is ready now and will perform the ritual. Get ready as well."
Without another word, Barty stepped back. Harry let out a sigh of relief. However, in the last and so far only magical ritual that he had witnessed, the sacrifice had died in the end…
He prayed that at least Daphne was safe...
"Daphne! Daphne!"
She heard someone calling her name as she slowly regained consciousness. Blinking, she recognized Lupin's panicked face above her.
"Daphne, do you hear me?"
Daphne nodded slightly. She felt so weak, but why? Suddenly, she remembered. Harry grabbing the trophy. The pain. And then…
"Harry!" she yelled, straightening up. She realized that she was still in her seat in the stands in front of the maze. The students whispered excitedly to one another. Beside her, Fawkes had his mysterious golden eyes on her. But where was Harry?
She tried to feel Harry, but every time she was on the verge of finding him, he slipped from her as if she was trying to catch smoke with her hands.
Harry, where are you?
"All that's missing are the last three ingredients," Harry heard Snape's emotionless voice over the simmering potion. "Blood, bones, and skin."
"I will take care of the magic," said the Lord, before an ugly hiss rang out, but Harry could understand it. So the Lord was a Parselmouth...
"Blood, Elixir of Life, taken from an old foeman, you will flow through this body again."
There was a piercing sound that reminded Harry of Black's demise, followed by a rattle, and finally silence. After a few seconds, Harry heard liquid being poured into the potion.
"Bones, Flesh's Ossature, wrenched from a bitter enemy, you will make this body strengthen again."
The sound that followed was much rougher than before; the victim's silent scream testified to furious rage. And the mortar noises afterwards were among the most horrifying things Harry had ever heard. He could almost imagine the ground bones mixed into the potion.
Blood, bones, then all that was missing now was the skin. Harry wanted to scream, wrest himself free, unleash the forces of the underworld, but his hands were literally tied.
For the third time the cold, hissing voice rang out, "Skin, Mantle of Being, forcibly taken from the erstwhile scourge, you will clothe this body in a new robe."
Harry felt a figure approach him. Cold iron bored into his neck before sliding down his back, parting his clothing and causing the fabric to fall to the ground. Cool night air slid over his now bare back. Goosebumps spread all over his body. He knew what was coming…
Still, Harry winced when the blade suddenly slit his skin, once around his entire back, slowly, very slowly, which only made it all the worse for him. He screamed, but the gag in his mouth swallowed all his cries. He felt the blade go under his skin, gradually severing it from his flesh. Tears came to his eyes.
A cold shiver ran down Daphne's back. Gripped by an inner certainty, she began to run. She ran away from Lupin whose calls she had long since ceased to notice. She ran down the stands. She ran past the surprised faces of students, teachers and visitors, past the maze, to the border of the castle grounds, Fawkes, her companion in the battle to come, flying over her head.
Her heart was pounding in her chest, painful, fearful, but above all determined as never before in her life. If she didn't do something, Harry would die, she just knew! She had to save him!
Fawkes shrieked loudly, enveloping her heart in fervent flames.
Harry's body trembled while listening to his skin being cut into small pieces; just as he had learned in Potions. Cold sweat dripped down his body, burning the exposed flesh. Every slight movement, every wisp of wind that slipped over his battered back, caused him excruciating pain.
He heard his shredded skin splash into the potion, almost vomiting at the thought of this hideous swill made of blood, bones, and skin.
"My Lord," came Snape's voice, followed by greedy swallowing noises, inhuman, disgusting. Harry shuddered.
Several moments of silence passed before Harry heard the Lord's voice again, "Ah, what a wonderful feeling. The magic ... the magic returns ... in all its strength..."
"I'm your submissive servant, my Lord," came the voices of Snape, Barty and Narcissa in unison, followed by noises as if they were falling to their knees.
"Of course, of course you are, one more than the other ... but how many are still out there, how many still remember their master, Lord Voldemort?"
Voldemort?!
Harry froze. His worst fears were confirmed...
"Hold out your arm, Narcissa," Voldemort said quietly, but with more authority and power in his voice than Harry had ever seen before. It was a voice that could not be contradicted.
Once again, a searing pain blazed through Harry's scar.
Daphne didn't know where Harry was and – unlike him – she had no idea how to apparate, but at that moment, when her whole life was at stake, she was no longer able to think clearly.
She just felt Fawkes settle on her shoulder before surrendering to magic, tearing at her body, her soul. She felt like she was torn in two, but she couldn't give up! She had to go to Harry, she had to reach him! Everything began to spin around her, a vortex of swirling colors enveloping them.
"And now we wait … Barty, what a mess you made … And just look at poor Harry," Voldemort continued in a reproachful tone.
"Forgive me, my Lord, maybe I let myself get carried away..."
"Now, now, my dear Barty! No need to apologize. I myself know how easy it is to lose yourself doing something you enjoy."
"You are too gracious, my Lord."
They were total freaks! Harry panicked. He had to escape. He had to get out of here. He had to –
Harry froze. A warm feeling seized his heart, encasing his entire body and soul.
Daphne!
Daphne felt like she'd run straight into a stone wall. Dazed, she got up in a kind of meadow, nothing but blackness around her. Beside her, Fawkes cawed offended, but Daphne didn't even notice.
Finally she could feel Harry again, as clearly as the last few months. She felt his love enveloping her like a heavy cloak, but also a burning pain, along with fright, fear, worry...
She had to go to him! No matter what danger he was in, they were one. One soul, one fate. She had to be with him!
But where was he? Where was her Harry?
She should have come straight to him. Or had she done something wrong while apparating?
Trembling, Daphne concentrated, opening her soul to the streams of magic. It seemed to her that Harry was surrounded by powerful spells, but eventually she was able to locate him, several miles away to the south. She began to run as fast as her legs could carry her.
Hold on, love. Hold on!
Harry felt Daphne's fiery determination, stripped of all restraint, as she got closer and closer. However, she was still several miles away from the stone circle...
Time was running out for them ... and they were outnumbered…
The air was full of the swishing of cloaks. There had to be dozens of wizards and witches apparating to the stone circle. Their steps seemed slow, almost hesitant, Harry thought. Then it sounded like someone had dropped to their knees again.
"Master..." muttered a male voice. "...I'm your submissive servant."
Harry heard more people fall to their knees, offering similar tributes. Little by little, they seemed to rise again until only silence was left. Even the wind had paused. Still, it seemed to Harry that the air was vibrating with tension.
"Welcome, Death Eaters," Voldemort's low voice finally broke the uncomfortable silence. "I am glad that you recognized me, even though I look different than when we last met. Fourteen years ... fourteen years have passed since we were last united under the Dark Mark, and I have to say ... I can't help myself ... yes, I am disappointed ... It's a disappointment to me..."
A shiver ran through the assembled crowd, Harry feeling it even tied to the stone.
"I had hoped, I had longed that one of you, at least one of my faithful servants, would come to my aid, your Lord, to whom you have sworn eternal allegiance. I needed you, but you let me down..."
"I've come, my Lord," came Barty's shrill voice, followed again by knees falling to the ground.
"Yes, Barty. You came to me. It took you nearly thirteen years to do it, but in the end, you did your duty. Know that you will forever have Lord Voldemort's gratitude, as the first among the Death Eaters. But you, you others! What have you done? You forgot me, me who has done so much for you. You turned away from me. You betrayed me, and thus yourself. You betrayed what we once stood for ... You began to deny me ... You began to pay allegiance to others ... the Ministry ... and even Dumbledore, that champion of Mudbloods and Muggles ... yes, I am disappointed. You have disappointed me deeply..."
"Master!" suddenly shrieked one of the Death Eaters, apparently collapsing on the ground. "Master, forgive me! Forgive us all!"
"Avery, my friend, get up," Voldemort said with a false gentleness that made Harry flinch. No matter what Voldemort said, this Death Eater was certainly not his friend. "The dirt is no place for you. And you have already kissed my robe."
"I ask for your forgiveness, my Lord. I lost my way..."
"You did, my friend, you did ... all of you did." Voldemort paused for a long time and Harry could only imagine his gaze sliding over the ranks of the Death Eaters. "But I have made mistakes in my life too," he continued. "The worst of these has caused the temptation to commit your mistakes in the first place. I forgive you, this one time. But in the future, I expect more faithful service from all of you; towards me, and towards our noble mission, from this day until your last."
Abruptly, more Death Eaters rushed forward, falling all over themselves with declarations of loyalty.
"I swear, my Lord..."
"From this day until my last day..."
"I will serve you forever..."
"I thank you, my Lord..."
"I throw myself in the dust in front of you..."
"You are too gracious, Master..."
"Yes, maybe I am," Voldemort continued. "But I am sure you will now serve me with unprecedented loyalty. And I will not allow you to find yourself again in a situation where your allegiance is put to such a test ..."
Cloaks rustled as the Death Eaters rose again. From the sounds and voices, Harry would put their number at least two dozen. Far too many for him and Daphne, who still had half way to go. Harry felt her gasping from exhaustion and nearly collapsing several times, but he also knew that she would never give up...
"I sense ... I sense a question floating in the air," said Voldemort. "A question that you all ask yourselves but do not dare to pose. Even several questions. What happened fourteen years ago? And why am I with you again now, even if I look different? Well, the answers to all of these questions are in some way related to our young friend here. Yes, Harry Potter was kind enough to come to my rebirth party. He could even be called my honorary guest."
Everyone was silent, but Harry could feel the Death Eaters' looks on his ravaged back.
"You all know that on the night I lost my powers and body, I tried to kill him. I am not sure what happened yet, but I suspect it has to do with his Mudblood mother. She died trying to save him, and maybe, yes maybe, she was unwittingly protecting him in ways that I admit I had not foreseen ... I am confident that during the rest of my immortal life I will also unlock this ancient magic's secret ... That woman's foolish sacrifice deflected my curse and it rebounded upon myself ... and yet, I lived. For I am no longer mortal ... but what I was, even I do not know … A spirit? A ghost? I was powerless ... so powerless, deprived of all means to help myself. And none of my loyal Death Eaters succoured me…"
Another shiver ran through the circle of listening Death Eaters. Voldemort let the silence spiral horribly before continuing.
"I wandered through the world, without a body, without any certainty, except that I would never die ... I forced myself to exist ... every single second ... at some point, I reached a distant land, a dark forest. I waited there. I waited ... and waited ... but no one came ... then, four years ago, a wizard came into the forest, young, foolish, gullible. He was easy to bend to my will. And seemed the very chance I had been waiting for... for he was a teacher at Hogwarts … until then for Muggle Studies and from next year for Defense Against the Dark Arts – Quirinius Quirrell."
Harry froze. Quirrell? Who had just disappeared after Christmas in his first year?
"He brought me back to Britain, back to Hogwarts, and after a while I took possession of his body, to supervise him closely as he carried out my orders … unfortunately my plan failed, thwarted by Albus Dumbledore himself."
Again there was silence; nothing stirred. Even Harry was listening intently, just the painful throbbing of his little finger and back in his ears. He felt Daphne throw up, but she got up again and continued running.
"He saw through my game. After Christmas, he confronted Quirrel, along with his phoenix … Oh, I let Quirrel fight, but he was just a feeble container of my mind. He died and I had to flee, but I kept control of his now dead body … He was disfigured; the flames of the phoenix had hit Quirrel right in the face. It was burned, the nose and one ear torn off, the flesh was beginning to decay ... However, anything was better than being a disembodied spirit. I kept the body alive as best I could. I was even able to do magic, very little at first, but slowly, very slowly I got stronger again, even if I was far from my true power. I stayed in the shadows and waited. I gathered information, gradually gained strength, and looked out for loyal followers. As I said, in vain..."
Nobody said a word.
"Until the Quidditch World Cup last year. My most faithful servant unleashed the Dark Mark and I freed him from his bonds – yes, Barty did not die in Azkaban, as everyone thought ... With him, I had so many more options ... now even my full rebirth, the regaining of all my powers was within my grasp. I found a potion that can revive the body, developed in ancient Mesopotamia many, many millennia ago. But for this to work – this old piece of Dark Magic – I needed three powerful ingredients from which all human life is made. Blood, bones, and skin; taken from foes, for the strong have always ruled over the weak…
"I am well versed in potions myself, but I am also humble enough to recognize when others are better. After all, the subtleties of potions are a tricky thing ... I got Severus back into my service, now Potions Master at Hogwarts ... but one problem remained ... I needed three enemies ... But who, who should I take? My greatest enemy, Dumbledore, the Leader of the Light, would have been too daring since I had not yet regained my full power. So it had to be others. And who killed most of my faithful friends? The great Auror Alastor Mad-Eye Moody! It wasn't an easy fight, but in the end, Barty, Narcissa and I managed to overwhelm him this afternoon – yes, Narcissa is one of us now – for her missing husband...
"Barty, of course, was eager to get revenge on his father. And of course, Bartemius Crouch, as head of DMLE back then, had undoubtedly been one of my adversaries. Even I have to admit that he fought tenaciously ... we subdued him ... and waited ... for I needed another enemy. And for the last ingredient, I wanted no other than Harry Potter ... my scourge ... the Boy Who Lived…
"But how to get Harry Potter? Most of the year he is at Hogwarts, where he is constantly under the crooked nose of this Muggle-loving fool... I was surprised to learn that Harry had found a girlfriend and lover, which I admit I hadn't seen coming during my short time with Quirrel ... Daphne Greengrass is the girl's name ... I'm sure you remember Morpheus and Roxanne. They had their uses ... in many ways ... yes, Harry and Greengrass were an extremely unusual couple, despised, outcast, on the fringes of society ... and Harry was very different from what I expected him to be. He even reminded me a little of myself ... but Harry and Greengrass were nowhere to be found ... out of the country, I heard ... so we came up with a plan...
"Barty contacted one of my servants who had become a traitor but is now back in my service, more or less voluntarily ... he made sure that the boy's name was spat out from the Goblet of Fire ... our Harry was now a Triwizard Champion ... and how he surprised us all during the tournament! Harry Potter, the figurehead of light, using magic of the darkest kind? His girlfriend's influence, no doubt ... but it had the pleasant effect of proving Harry's superiority over the other champions. We hardly had to do anything for him to get through the tournament ... but Harry was powerful, we couldn't underestimate him ... my servants turned the Triwizard Cup into a Portkey and also put a curse on it ... everything coming out as I had planned. The Portkey brought him here, beyond the reach of Dumbledore's help and protection, and into my waiting arms. And here he is..."
Again, Harry could feel the looks on his back. He himself was still processing what he had just heard...
"His back isn't a pretty sight, I know," said Voldemort. "You see now, I think, how foolish it was to suppose that this boy could ever have been stronger than me. But I want there to be no mistake in anybody's mind. Harry Potter escaped me by a lucky chance. But tonight … tonight I'm going to kill him, in front of you all, when there is no girlfriend to help him with dark magic, no Dumbledore to protect him, and no Mudblood mother to die for him ... I will give him his chance. I will allow him to fight. "
The voice was getting closer. Harry felt a breeze and then he glanced, out of the corner of his eye, into the grinning face of his first defense teacher, only that it didn't look like Quirrel anymore. The face was whiter than a skull, with wide, livid scarlet eyes and a nose that was as flat as a snake's with slits for nostrils.
Voldemort leaned down, whispering in his ear, "You're about to be a dead man, Harry Potter. And after your death, I will subdue my unruly daughter. Together we will create a pure bloodline and –" Voldemort suddenly flinched as if he'd been burned.
Harry, however, struggled against his ropes. His back was torturing him like hell, but he hardly cared. He had to stop this sick madman! He had to protect Daphne!
Daphne felt a terrible fear gripping Harry and, as a result, her as well. She was at the end of her tether. Every breath, every step caused her pain, but she had to keep going. She had to reach Harry!
In front of her, she could already see a stone circle in the dark...
"Untie him, Barty, and give him back his wand," said Voldemort.
Harry heard footsteps before Barty – apparently Crouch's son – pulled the gag out of his mouth and then, with a swipe of his wand, cut through the bonds tying Harry to the stone. Instantly Harry slumped on the ground. Several Death Eaters laughed.
In pain, Harry got up and turned around. The Death Eaters, all hooded and masked, had formed a circle; behind them the stone blocks soaring into the nightly sky. Barty, specked with blood, joined the other lurking Death Eaters after throwing Harry's wand at his feet.
The stones to which the other two victims were tied resembled a battlefield. Crouch's throat had been cut, his lifeless dangling body full of blood. Moody was missing his right hand and a golden dagger hilt protruded from his heart. Both stones and the ground in front of them were covered by a huge pool of blood that slowly seeped into the grass.
In the center of the circle stood the reborn Voldemort, casually playing with a wand between his pale fingers, while the giant snake slithered at his feet.
"Just a little longer, Nagini. Soon, you can eat again," whispered Voldemort to the snake, before looking at Harry, his red eyes shimmering in the darkness. "You have been taught how to duel, Harry?"
Harry didn't answer. His eyes slid over the line of Death Eaters, looking for an escape route. He would have to break through their line and get to the point where he could disapparate...
"Don't even think about it, Harry," said Voldemort. "You cannot escape. The whole area is covered with spells. Only those possessing the Dark Mark will leave this place tonight. And I don't think you want to join me, do you?"
He'd rather die, Harry thought bitterly, bending over to pick up his wand. Instantly, a searing pain went through Harry's back. He had to use all his self-control not to cry out in agony.
"I take that as no," Voldemort replied. "Then we're going to duel now, Harry. But before that, we bow to each other." He leaned forward slightly, but his eyes stayed on Harry. "Come, Harry, the niceties must be observed. Daphne would certainly want you to respect the old Pureblood traditions ... bow to death, Harry."
Harry didn't bow. He didn't want to give Voldemort that satisfaction. "You aren't death, just a megalomaniac madman," he pressed out with great effort. Every movement, every word caused him horrible pain. He was at the end of his tether. Burning sweat dripped from his forehead into his eyes.
"I said, bow," Voldemort said angrily, raising his wand.
Harry felt a magical force grasp him, trying to bend his spine. Another force was pressing against his mental shields.
No, I won't, Harry thought with all his remaining strength, fiercely fighting against Voldemort's attack. I will never bow to you, bastard!
After several seconds of silent fighting, Voldemort lowered his wand. "I see you are more like your Mudblood mother than your father. Well, then let's not drag it out any longer. The duel begins - now!"
With inhuman speed, Voldemort raised his wand and hurled a flash of red in Harry's direction.
Harry's body reacted without thinking, the result of countless practice fights with Daphne. Reflexively he flung himself sideways onto the ground. The red flash left charred grass where Harry had just been standing.
Harry hit the ground with his back, causing him to scream. The pain was just unbearable.
The Death Eaters laughed. Voldemort's lips curled up in a smile. "But Harry, what are you doing on the ground? Your poor back is getting dirty. Come, get up again so I can kill you, yes? You want to die like your father, don't you? Upright and proud."
Harry squirmed with pain. He would've liked to use demon magic and shred Voldemort and all the Death Eaters, but he felt too weak, so terribly weak. His body trembled. He probably had a fever. And a milky mist fell over his eyes…
He wouldn't survive.
The sudden realization pierced Harry's mind like an icy dagger.
He had no more energy. No strength to fight. He'd be happy if he could get up again without losing consciousness. Everything spun around him. Both earth and heaven were calling for him...
Harry felt Daphne being very close now. She would be here at any moment, with Voldemort and the Death Eaters...
Daphne.
His love.
His partner.
His soulmate.
He had intended to grow old with her. To lead a happy, quiet life. It would have been so beautiful.
He would have followed her to the end of the world.
At some point, he would have asked her to marry him...
Now, that naive dream of a new morning for them had receded into the dark distance, crushed by the relentless cruelty of life.
He didn't know if his death would also be hers. But if she got here and fought with him, she would die for sure. Or worse, be captured and...
Harry couldn't finish the thought.
He would do anything for Daphne.
Even die.
It was the easiest thing in the world.
If he died, there was at least hope that Daphne could escape. That she could live...
Even if he had to break his promise.
With his last bits of strength, Harry pushed himself off the ground. Everything went black around him, but he managed to get up.
"Are you ready to die, Harry?" Voldemort asked quietly.
Harry didn't answer.
He thought of her beautiful blue eyes, never to see them again.
He thought of her bright laugh, never to hear it again.
He thought of her soft lips, never to feel them again.
I'm sorry, Daphne.
I love you.
Forever.
A green flash, then nothing.
Daphne was gripped by a feeling of utter hopelessness, coming from Harry. She ran even faster.
Gasping, Daphne spotted the backs of numerous figures behind the stones, but she could see through the gaps between them.
Her eyes didn't even have to search. They found Harry by themselves.
He looked exhausted. Sad. Hopeless. It hurt seeing him like this.
He hung his shoulders, wand lowered. He didn't look her way but at a man in a dark robe.
Suddenly there was a bright green flash and Harry collapsed on the ground.
Daphne froze. The world around her stopped moving. An icy dagger pierced her heart.
NO!
NO! NO!
No! That couldn't be true! No!
But there was no doubt. Her connection to Harry was cut.
Daphne screamed, loud and horrible. The hooded figures turned around. Someone yelled something but Daphne didn't hear it.
A tremendous heat seized her body, displacing all other sensations, all rational thinking. She rushed forward, her wand hurling hellish flames at the masked figures, who frantically jumped out of the way.
Fawkes gave a hateful cry, shooting towards the man in the middle like a blazing beam.
After just a few steps, Daphne was at Harry's side, coming down beside him. Empty eyes looked at her, the beautiful green long since faded. Daphne grabbed him. His body was cold.
Harry! Harry! Please get up! You can't leave me alone, Harry. Please get up! Get up! Please, please get up! I need you!
Daphne burst into tears.
He existed. He had to. After all, he could think. That had to mean that he existed, right?
But what was he?
And where was he?
In any case, everything was quiet around him. No sound reached his ears. Wait, did he even have ears? He concentrated. He could feel something rushing. No, not something. Blood – blood rushed in his ears. Yes, he had ears! He could even wiggle them!
If he had ears, he had to have a body. And the body had to be somewhere. So this place couldn't be nothingness, whatever it was.
He tried hard, focusing on all the sensations he had to have if he had a body and existed in a place.
Okay, he was lying on something. He could feel that. It felt hard. Stone? Yes, it felt like a stone surface. If there was something he was lying on, he had to be able to see it. That is, if he had eyes. But he had to have them. After all, he also had ears.
He thought of opening his eyes.
Instantly, a bright light blinded him, causing him to blink until his eyes had adjusted to the brightness. He recognized that he lay in a pale fog, but cloudy outlines formed around him.
Noises reached him. Birds chirping. Scraps of conversation. A baby's howling.
So he wasn't alone.
He looked down at himself, realizing that he was as naked as the day he was born. But you couldn't be naked in public, could you? That's just not done. He thought of clothes and shortly afterwards felt fabric covering his bare skin, warm and silky like he had never experienced before. That was better. Now he could mingle with people.
He straightened up, now standing with both feet on a stone floor, just as he had suspected.
The longer he looked around, the more he saw. Young people, old people, people of all ages walked around him, deep in conversations. A bright sun shone above him in a blue sky, warming his face with its rays. It had to be a day in late spring or early summer when it was warm but not too hot. A pleasant wind slipped over his face, tousling his hair.
He realized that he was standing on a round square. In the middle was a kind of war memorial, on the opposite side a church tower, next to it a cemetery. He also saw several shops, a post office, and a small pub.
The place seemed strangely familiar to him as if he had been here before, but he couldn't remember...
"You've grown so fast, Harry", suddenly a soft female voice rang out from behind him.
He spun around. A young woman was sitting there at a table, a large sundae in front of her. She had long red hair and bright green eyes – the same eyes he knew he had.
At that moment he remembered everything. He knew again who and where he was.
"Mum?" Harry asked in disbelief. "What ... what are you doing here?"
Then he realized how pointless this question was. He was dead and his mother was dead too. It only made sense that they would meet again. Even if it was a bit strange that the afterlife looked like the marketplace of Godric's Hollow; a place he had last visited with Daphne…
A sad smile fell on his mother's face. "You must have a lot of questions, Harry, but we have to hurry, we don't have much time."
Hot tears fell from Daphne's eyes, directly on Harry's dead face, while a flaming inferno raged around her. She felt her spirits leave her; she didn't resist…
"Mum!" Harry yelled, running to his mother, arms outstretched. He wanted to hug her, but his hands slipped through her body, only touching the metal of the chair on which his mother was sitting.
"That's not possible, sweetheart," said his mother regretfully. "I'm not really here, physically I mean… it's all so difficult to explain. There is so much I want to tell you, Harry, but we don't have the time. Someone is waiting for you..."
Harry slumped on the floor. Even in death, he couldn't be with his parents?
"Who? Who is waiting for me?" he asked devastated.
"Daphne. The more time passes, the more her soul is drawn to the realm of the dead."
Harry felt sick. So he had failed. He hadn't been able to save Daphne's life...
"Will I see her again? In death?" he asked softly. " I see you..."
"That will be your decision, sweetheart. You will see her again, but depending on how you decide, it will be in life or in death."
Life? Harry looked up. "W-What –"
"That will be the most important of my answers," said his mother in a warm tone. "Harry, you have a choice. You can either choose to come with me " – she pointed in the direction of the cemetery – "or you can choose to return to life."
"But ... but how?"
His mother sighed. "It would take a long time to explain all of this to you. The short version is that the killing curse only takes one soul as a tribute. And there were two souls in you, Harry."
"Do you mean –"
"No, I don't mean Daphne's soul. It's much, much more hideous. The moment Voldemort's curse bounced back on him, a fragment of his soul was split off. That soul piece clung to you, Harry. Your scar is proof of that."
Harry was lost for words. A piece of Voldemort's soul had been inside him? In his damn scar?
"I know that none of this is easy for you," said his mother. "But if you choose life, you have to know all of this. Voldemort has created other soul containers. Only when these are destroyed can he be killed. You must tell Dumbledore about it."
"Dumbledore?"
"Yes, he will be able to help you. Have trust, Harry."
Harry shook his head; it was all too much for him.
All of a sudden, he noticed a raindrop falling on his face. Many more followed. "It's raining?" he asked softly. Strange, there were no clouds in the sky...
"That's no rain," his mother replied. "But it shows that our time here is coming to an end. You've already made your decision, haven't you?"
Harry nodded. He could already feel Daphne's sadness and despair again, eating him up inside. He had to return to her – he wanted to return to her, comfort her, alleviate her suffering. But at the same time, he also wanted to stay with his mother. He still had so much to say to her...
His mother smiled at him. "You don't have to say anything," she said. "We were always with you. We know how much you love us. We feel it. In our hearts." She brought her hand to her chest. "We also sense how much you love her. And how much she loves you."
"Do you approve?" he called out loud. "Daphne? And what I did? Probably … probably I'm not the son you expected, the son you wished for..."
"You are our son, Harry. We will always love you. Always."
"Despite all my sins?" Harry paused. "Mum, I'm not a good person ... I ... I use dark magic. I killed. And I enjoyed it. I feel this anger ... this hatred in me..."
Tears shimmered in his mother's eyes. "Oh, Harry, I want to hug you so much, but I can't and that's killing me. I … I don't know how I can show you how much I love you ... I love you, Harry! And your father loves you too! How could we not love you?"
"But I'm a monster..."
"No, you aren't! But… but you have lost your way … You must remember who you are … you've experienced so much suffering that just thinking about it hurts me. There was unmeasured cruelty towards both you and Daphne. But … but don't punish the whole world for it ... Let some more love in your hearts, Harry. Neither of you are monsters, you are ... you are like deeply wounded birds that have fallen out of their nest ... but there is so much love and warmth in you, if you only allow it ... allow it, Harry … be gentle birds with broad wings and a big heart … allow it…"
His mother was already fading, her voice getting weaker and weaker.
"Mum?!" Harry yelled with tears in his eyes. "Mum, don't go! Please! Don't leave! Don't leave me…"
"We will never leave you..."
Harry could no longer understand his mother's words. The world began to spin around him. Light, darkness, desperate crying, human voices, screams, all became one for Harry in a swirl of colors and magic.
"We love you, Harry."
"We will always be with you."
"Never forget that."
"You must hurry…"
Suddenly Daphne felt a warm feeling in her heart that didn't come from the Fiendfyre raging around her. Harry's chest, on which she was lying, warmed up again and a jolt went through his rigid body. Daphne felt a rapid stream of life as the spirits that had seeped out of her just a second ago returned.
That could only be a dream, right? A last lark of her mind. But there was no doubt … bright green eyes stared at her, full of love.
Harry shot up and looked into Daphne's eyes, shining like blue stars, embedded in a tear-streaked, dirty face.
Behind her, the Fiendfyre raged. Gigantic flame snakes pounced on Voldemort, who was fighting the monsters with his wand, the Death Eaters huddling in fear behind him. And above the flaming inferno, Fawkes circled, screeching with hatred, waiting for a gap to attack.
Harry grabbed Daphne's arm, feeling her confusion, bewilderment, and above all overwhelming love. He felt electrified. In a split second, he had shared his memories with her.
Daphne's eyes widened. A terrible fear spread through her mind that Harry couldn't explain, but he didn't have time to think about it. They had to get out of here!
He looked around. Apparating still didn't work. Flames raged all around them, even if the denizens of hell so far only attacked the Death Eaters. The Triwizard Cup was probably destroyed long ago. All his hopes were thus on Fawkes.
Fawkes, you must save us! Save us!
He hoped the phoenix would catch his thoughts. He lacked the strength to use his voice. With his return to life, pain and excruciating exhaustion had returned as well.
Suddenly Harry heard a scream. A breach formed in the wall of flames. And through the breach, Voldemort's huge snake shot straight at them; way too fast for Harry to react in time. Daphne opened her mouth and began to turn around, but she too was way too slow.
A bloodcurdling screech rang out, testimony to millennia-old wrath. Fawkes dived from the night sky, catching the snake mid-air, and hurling it back into the flames, where it burned with a terrifying hiss.
Harry heard Voldemort's scream of fury at the same moment that he felt the phoenix's claws on his shoulder. The world seemed to stand still for a second before a vortex of flame and smoke carried him away, Daphne by his side. They were going back…
Next Chapter: In the Eyes of the World
Preview:
"Harry, what was that yesterday? You're not a murderer, nor a bad person, or do you enjoy killing? Do you want to be that kind of person? Someone who delights in the suffering of other beings?"
AN:
It seems that the soul bond between Harry and Daphne indeed serves as a kind of catalyst for some developments…
You probably noticed that I changed Voldemort's character and the Horcrux connection between him and Harry (at least according to Dumbledore; but his interpretation doesn't have to be set in stone I think) a bit.
Fun Fact: The ice cream parlor where Lily sat in the world in between was one of James and Lily's favorite places. They spent numerous dates there, just like James' parents before. Once, the four of them were even there together, enjoying the most delicious ice cream in southern England. Idea for a one-shot, someday, maybe ... :)
As always, I'm looking forward to your comments and opinions!
