Quick reminder: The original story was written before the release of the sixth book, so some characters' backstories may differ from the later books.

Chapter 2: Aftermath

Harry awoke to a splitting headache. He was disoriented for a moment, before he remembered. Death Eaters. The Dursleys.

He sat up with a start and regretted it immediately. The world around him spun.

Once the dizziness subsided, he found a vial on the table next to his bed. Harry opened it and gave it a sniff. When he recognized the potion, he emptied it in a single gulp, immediately feeling better. Then, he surveyed his surroundings.

He was lying on a grand four-poster with green drapes and linen. Silk, he noted. The bed was in a luxuriously furnished room with two doors and huge windows at one side.

Harry rose and something clattered to the floor. A silver brooch. He vaguely remembered seeing it in that woman's hand. A portkey? Harry set it on the table, next to the empty vial.

He tried to open one of the doors. It was locked. The other one led into a spacious Roman bath. The windows were locked as well. Behind the glass, there was a balcony, revealing that he was in the upper story of the house.

The early morning sun hung over a sprawling garden with a forest he didn't recognize. He turned his attention back to the room he was in.

Besides the bed, there was a large closet, a well-stocked bookshelf, a desk, and several dressers. Harry opened the closet and found a wide variety of robes and other clothes - apparently in his size.

The books on the shelf covered a range of topics. Transformation, Potions, the Dark Arts, but also History, and Etiquette.

Harry tried to open the door and window again, without success. He was trapped, albeit in a very luxurious prison.

He was confused. The people that surprised him at the Dursley's were definitely Death Eaters. Harry even believed he had recognized one of them. He shuddered. The Dursleys were most likely dead. Harry had hated them - especially Vernon - but he hadn't wanted them dead.

But if they really were Death Eaters, then he would've expected for them to kill him on the spot. Or at least he'd have woken up in a dungeon. Why this? It didn't make any sense.

Harry unsuccessfully looked for an exit again. Finally, he grabbed one of the chairs out of frustration, and smashed it against the window with all his might. It bounced back as if it hit rubber, yanking him to the floor with it. Harry muttered a curse. Obviously, there was no way out of here.

He got back up and stared out into the garden. Even if he broke through the window, the drop would be too far. Without his wand, he couldn't do anything.

He paced back and forth in front of the window until his stomach growled. Eventually, when nothing changed, he decided to take a shower.

At least, the water was relaxing. When he left the shower, his clothes were gone. Harry froze and looked around, but there was no one in the room. After drying himself off, he decided to take some clothes from the closet. He picked black pants and a green robe, as well as a pair of black shoes. It all fit him perfectly. These were obviously expensive, worn by wizards.

Once he was dressed, he found a plate with sandwiches and a cup of tea on the table. House-elves, he realized.

Noticing how hungry he was, Harry began scarfing down his food. When he was done, he sat down to consider his situation, but didn't come to any conclusions.

Finally, he picked up a random book from the shelf and began to read. It was an advanced book on Transfiguration. Harry became so engrossed, that he only looked up once a new plate appeared on the table. Judging by the sun, it was already noon.

The days passed without anyone disturbing him. Harry's bruises and welts healed, and sometimes he couldn't help but think that he was better off here than with the Dursleys. After all, he had a lot of space to himself, no one bothered him, and he could read what he wanted to.

He always felt guilty about those thoughts, since the Dursleys were most likely dead. And besides, all of this may still have been a trick to make him feel safe until they hand him over to Voldemort.

Harry couldn't help but find that thought stupid. Voldemort wanted him dead. Nothing more. Maybe he wanted to torture him first, but for that, the Cruciatus was enough.

There were moments in which he was overcome by panic and desperately rattled at the door or the windows to break them open. Part of him hoped that maybe a random magical outburst would save him, like all those times before.

However, his efforts were unsuccessful, and after wearing himself out, he resigned himself to the fact that he simply had to wait and see. He couldn't fight invisible enemies. Whatever his kidnappers had planned, he'd find out on their terms.

"Welcome, Death Eaters."

Red eyes wandered over a circle of cloaked figures. They didn't shake, for the eyes regarded them with satisfaction, almost benevolence, for the first time in a long while.

"This is a great day for our cause, my loyal friends. Harry Potter is dead. He was but a symbol, but even a symbol holds power. His death leaves our enemies weak and hopeless… their own schemes have become their doom. They turned him into their figurehead. They deluded the wizarding world into believing that he, a boy, could beat me. And indeed, for a while it seemed as if luck and circumstance would win over raw power. Because that is all it was, my followers, that let him survive our encounter. As we all just witnessed.

"It should be obvious… still… Some believed a child could surpass the most powerful wizard of our time. Doubts… even within my own ranks."

A shudder spread through the circle as a cold glare met the figures. The snakelike face of the Dark Lord contorted into a sneer.

"Oh yes, I'm well aware… Without any real power, he still delayed our victory… thanks to the foolish hope they offered him. Now that their lies have been revealed, they will fear us even more."

Voldemort's glance passed over his followers until it finally came to rest on one of the figures.

"Severus…"

The man stepped forward, bowed, and kissed the seam of Voldemort's robes. "My Lord."

"Tell me, how does Dumbledore feel about the loss of his most precious pawn?"

"He is deeply troubled, my Lord. Members of the Order are questioning his judgment. They believe he should have prevented what happened. He is confused because he doesn't know how it happened and now he is weaker than ever."

"Ah, delightful news."

Voldemort smiled, self-satisfied. It was terrifying, even for those who were close to him.

"You are dismissed, my friends… Go and celebrate this joyous event… and sow fear in the hearts of our enemies…"

"Yes, my Lord!" came the answers from different voices. Some calm, some enthusiastic, some filled with quiet reverence.

Voldemort smiled as they disappeared, one after another. Only a few stayed behind. He moved to speak, but halted as he noticed a figure that he didn't expect to see.

"Is there anything else?"

The figure suddenly threw itself to the ground in front of him - this time without touching his robes.

"Master, I need to confess. I defer to any verdict that you may pass on me."

Voldemort raised his eyebrows, with a calculating glare at the figure.

"Yes?"

"I betrayed you, Master."

Surprised gasps came from the remaining Death Eaters. The calculating glare turned into one of surprise and anger.

"How is that?"

The figure didn't flinch under the deathly cold tone. His voice was calm as he began.

"As you may know, I was previously in an intimate relationship with Lily Evans when I attended Hogwarts. I had feelings for her, despite her being a mudblood. But she feared what I was and left me to marry James Potter.

"She knew my secret… that I was your loyal servant… but she kept it to herself. Years later, we met again. She was pregnant with Potter's child. She remembered… she asked me to protect the child… in a moment of sentimentality, I agreed. I gave her an Unbreakable Vow. Little did I know of the importance of that child back then.

"Dumbledore found out. I don't know how. He suspected me of being a Death Eater, so he revealed to me the prophecy… and persuaded me to betray you."

"The prophecy?" The Dark Lord interrupted him.

"Yes, the prophecy that he received from Sybill Trelawney. He showed it to me and I knew that you would kill the child."

"What does it say?"

Snape remained quiet for a moment, clearly struggling to remember.

"The one with the power to vanquish the Dark Lord approaches…", he quoted. "Born to those who have thrice defied him, born as the seventh month dies... and the Dark Lord will mark him as his equal, but he will have power the Dark Lord knows not... and either must die at the hand of the other for neither can live while the other survives... the one with the power to vanquish the Dark Lord will be born as the seventh month dies..."

Voldemort stared down at the man in disbelief. His Death Eaters did the same, one of them trembling, unnoticed.

"I knew it was Lily's child," continued the kneeling man. "My Vow forced me to protect it from you which is what I did. I hated Lily for forcing me into this situation and I hated the child… the boy, later… for what he was. But I had no choice. I was bound. Ironically, this is what gained me Dumbledore's trust."

The man laughed hoarsely.

"The old fool actually believed I worked for him, while I detested everything I did. Last year, I almost broke my Vow, when he made me teach Potter Occlumency and I saw your memories in his mind.

"Luckily, my hatred for him alone allowed me to fail my task. I wanted nothing more than to free myself of this duty, but I couldn't take it back. Now that he's dead, I'm free. I don't expect forgiveness, my Lord. I don't deserve it. I was idiotic, to fall for the seduction of a mudblood like Evans. I dare not guess the damage I did through my foolishness. I betrayed everything I believe in, which is why I had to reveal the truth."

The Dark Lord stared down at him for a few seconds. Then, he flicked his wand. The robes and mask disappeared, leaving the man in nothing but his pants. The exposed skin was marked with scars, some of them not yet old.

"You are going to pay for what you did," hissed Voldemort, his glare without mercy.

"Do as you wish, my Lord," replied Severus Snape without looking up.

"I have gathered you all for a sorrowful occasion."

Dumbledore watched the group of grieving people in front of himself. Hermione sat next to Ron, holding his hand. Ron stared straight ahead, trying not to show his emotions. Arthur Weasley held his wife Molly in his arms, her eyes red from crying. She seemed exhausted, as if she hadn't slept for days. The twins took care of Ginny, who barely looked any better than her mother. Dumbledore sighed deeply.

"Only Mr. Potter and I know that he drew up a will. He didn't want to worry anyone, which is why he asked me to keep it a secret. He told me this summer. I assume that after Sirius' death, he wanted to make sure that his affairs were in order, should something happen to him. No one could have known how foresightful that choice would turn out."

Ginny sobbed, and George brushed his hand across her back with calming motions.

"Remus Lupin sadly couldn't make it today," Dumbledore continued. He hoped to hide his distress at the man's bitterness. "This isn't a grave issue, as the items that he inherited became victims to the flames."

The old wizard sighed again. "Now, I will read the will as it is."

He pulled forth a parchment scroll and opened the seal. Then, he began to read.

"I, Harold James Potter, being of sound mind, devise and bequeath my property as follows:

"My books, except those about quidditch, and my cloak of invisibility: Hermione Granger, the smartest witch I ever knew and a wonderful friend. I know she'll put it to good use. Sadly, the books burned, Ms. Granger, but the cloak survived the fire through its magic."

Hermione nodded, before sobbing quietly, leaning on Ron's shoulder. Ron brushed her hair without taking his eyes from Dumbledore.

"My Quidditch books, cards, and posters, as well as my broom and the Marauder's Map: Ron Weasley, a great and loyal friend. If I had a brother, I would have wished it was you. Sadly, only the map survived the fire, Mr. Weasley."

Ron's jaw muscles tightened and he blinked, lowering his head to regain his composure. He clutched Hermione's hand tightly.

"My owl, Hedwig: Ginny Weasley, who has always been a little sister to me. I know, you'll take good care of her, Ginny."

"I promise, Harry," whispered Ginny.

"My share of Weasleys' Wizard Wheezes, as well as 20,000 Galleons, to George and Fred Weasley, my greatest partners. Invent some cool new magical pranks for me, boys."

"On our honor," said Fred, and George nodded.

"The rest of my assets, including the contents of my vault at Gringotts: Arthur and Molly Weasley. I never met my parents and never considered the Dursleys as such, making you the closest I ever had."

"You were like a son to me," sobbed Molly Weasley, and Arthur nodded in agreement.

"I love all of you. If Voldemort is still alive, give the bastard a good kick in the pants from me. I know you can do it. You're the best thing that ever happened to me. Don't grieve too much for me, whatever happened. All I wish is that you continue to live the happiest lives you can. Professor Dumbledore…"

Dumbledore hesitated for a moment before continuing. "We had our differences in the past, but you have always been a wise mentor to me. While I know the prophecy now, I'm still sure that you can beat Voldemort without me. He is nothing compared to you and all the wizards and witches by your side. Harry."

Dumbledore rolled up the parchment. Those gathered looked sadder now than they did before. He set the map, the cloak, Harry's wand, and the Gringotts key down on a table.

"These are the only possessions of his that survived the fire thanks to their inherent magic. Harry didn't say anything about his wand, but I'd like to keep it, if no one objects."

No one did. Dumbledore smiled sadly, and Fawkes sang a calming tune.

"He wouldn't want for us to hole ourselves up in fear," said Fred.

"Yes. He'd want us to show everyone that we're still here," added George.

"That's right, brothers." Ron nodded grimly. "He wouldn't want us to give up."

Ginny wiped away her tears and sat up straight. Suddenly, her face was calm and determined.

"I'll find out who did this," she said. "And they're going to pay for it."

It sounded like an oath. Molly Weasley glanced at her youngest in shock.

"They're all going to pay. All of the Death Eaters," agreed Ron, holding out his hand. "For Harry."

"For Harry," said Fred and George, settling their hands on his.

"For Harry," repeated Ginny, adding her hand.

"For Harry," whispered Hermione, and joined them.

The five of them locked eyes. "Voldemort will regret this day," said Ron. None of them flinched at his name.

"I foresaw this day so many times, but he wouldn't listen."

"Shut up, Sybill," snapped Madame Hooch.

Minerva McGonagall cut the quidditch teacher a sharp look, but the woman was already crying. Rolanda had thought highly of Harry. Trelawney shot her a resentful glare.

"How can you be this rude? Don't you understand other peoples' grief?"

Rolanda only snorted.

"The poor boy," said Poppy Pomfrey. "He spent more time in the hospital wing than any other Gryffindor. Still, he was always so friendly and considerate."

"He was brave and just. A true Gryffindor, through and through. It's rare to find someone like him," said Minerva glumly. The women around her nodded and for a moment, there was mournful silence.

Then, Trelawney sat up, stiffening. The other women stared as her eyes rolled and she began to speak in a low, hollow voice.

"A house must be erected, but the beasts are at war.

When the turtle loses the tiger's trust and the dragon leaves him,

The phoenix will fall…

But if the black and the white cats watch his heels,

The hydra will burn,

And he will rise from the ashes."

Everyone at the table stared at her incredulously.

"What?" she hissed. "Why are you looking at me like that?"

Minerva was the first to compose herself.

"Nothing, Sybill. You look tired. Why don't you rest a little?"

"Yes, Sybill," added Poppy. "A bit of sleep will do all of us good."

Trelawney eyed them distrustfully, but nodded.

"I'm actually tired. And these stressful events are a strain on my inner eye. Good night, then."

"Good night, Sybill," replied the others politely. Once she had left, they exchanged glances.

"Dumbledore should hear of this," said Rolanda finally.

Minerva nodded. "I'll see him as soon as his guests have left."