DISCLAIMER: I [regrettably] don't own Harry Potter. I [regrettably] only take Ms. J.K. Rowling's characters and scenarios that she has so greatly made and turned them into my own personal puppets and scenery. I [regrettably] don't make money off of this. I [regrettably] never will.
And to my First Reviewer!
Padme.G: No, thank you. That's actually very comforting as this is a first for me. ;]
SAVE ME
Albus and James finally curled up next to each other, hands clasped within the other's grasp as they laid face to face, down for the count. Harry timidly placed a blanket over the both of them, a small smile forming at the corners of his lips. He softly brushed back one of Albus' dark locks behind his ears. The boy would need a haircut soon. Harry turned his attention to the eldest son and did the same. They would both need a trimming. Sighing, he kissed each of them on the forehead before turning off the lights and heading to Lily's bedroom.
The house was a simple one; not too demanding of needing a clean every day, but not too simple where there wouldn't be enough room for the children to run around and around, although Ginny had highly protested on such acts. Harry pushed his glasses farther up his nose at the memory. In the next moment, he rounded the corner into his daughter's room, the crib charmed to rock the child within it to sleep though the occupant seemed to be doing anything but.
Lily cooed and garbled out nonsensical words, each syllable beating a wrenching nail into Harry's heart as he drew closer to the crib. She giggled when his head popped above her, little miniscule feet kicking at the air playfully, similar hands pawing at the air trying to reach for him. Harry obliged, picking her up in one swift motion and holding her close to his body allowing the hidden fear to encompass him. Her smell engulfed his nose; sweet baby's skin and milk. He choked on a sob, cradling her even closer. Ginny was supposed to be here, holding her like this, coaxing Lily to sleep with that soft voice of hers and the rich, happy aura she always brought along with her. He brushed a rough thumb along the baby skin of his daughter's, their identical eyes locked.
"Ginny," he coughed, voice raspy, throat dry since the morning. "Ginny.."
As if the child had sensed some kind of wrong doing, Lily grasped a small bit of hair that her tiny hands could manage and remained silent, no longer fidgeting in the Gryffindor's grasp. This only brought the onslaught of pain still held in Harry's chest, falling to his knees, cradling the child while he wept into her pajamas. The tears didn't stop, his heart breaking with each racking sob. He cried, screamed, squeezed the form in his arms as if death was around them now. As if Voldemort was about to stalk right into that room and hex his Lily while he protected her. Even the amusement of something like that happening didn't wrench Harry from his nightmarish past. And still Lily continued her silence, her grasp never faltering.
The glass glinted empty in the lamplight, all the golden liquid it held gone. Fingertips tapped against the glass before an entire hand covered it completely, picking it up from its place at the side table and refilling it to the brim with another dose of Firewhiskey. Harry slouched back against the chair he inhabited for the past three hours. It was now ten minutes to one in the morning. Tilting his head back, he down the entire contents of the drink and slammed the once again empty glass onto the table, pushing himself out of the comfort of his favorite chair.
It had been Ginny's…
Stumbling, drunken, he made a grab for the floo powder dish near the fireplace and at once dropped the entirety of the contents, except for whatever he managed to get into his hand, all across the carpeted floor. The crimson color now bore glistening silver substance. Harry didn't give it a second look as he threw the floo powder and hollered, "Ministry of Magic!"
The dark corridors leading towards the Department of Mysteries were as Harry had last seen them, cold and dank, the narrow space to walk in tauntingly close as if about to swallow him whole in the darkness. Were it not for the occasional torch along the sides, Harry would have had to resort to his wand for illumination. Even then, the light they gave off couldn't suppress the ominous foreboding aura creeping in the corridors. Then, he was there. He looked up at the doors, wishing to scare him into thinking sensible. Harry smirked. Sensibility had long since left him from the first glass of that honorable alcoholic drink. He opened the doors, amazed at how willingly they obliged. Green eyes fixated at the knobs, breath hitching. There was no turning back after this. He pushed and entered, closing the doors softly behind him.
Between the time of when he left Hogwarts to grabbing his children, feeding them, tucking them into bed, Harry noted that there had been an artifact of similarities towards the Time Turner Hermione Granger had in possession in their third year in school. Amongst the endless raids of nabbing up the remaining Death Eaters still lurking about, they had come across some kind of sand timer, large, though dark magic wove frighteningly around it, daring anyone but its owner to touch it. Harry was cautious not to see what would happen. Now, with the firewhiskey still burning in his throat and belly, he wondered if flying without a broomstick and a spell conjured from someone else's wand seemed probable.
He knew the complications of winding through the Department, though after setting his mind to where he needed to get to, the doors were easy to go through, the walkways undeniably effortless. It was as if he had a dose of that rare potion he won from Professor Slughorn in his sixth year: felix felicis. All too soon, Harry found himself in the very room Sirius had died, and there before him stood the culprit. Harry's breath caught in his throat as the scene replayed before him, lungs constricting as his godfather's face turned from a grinning expression to that of fear, dark eyes boring into green orbs which could only watch in horror when the misty clouds enveloped themselves around the animagus, pulling him into whatever abyss lay ahead. It took all of Harry's strength to wrench himself from the ghastly object, keeping himself from throwing some kind of curse at it. But what good would it do? Maybe, he didn't need to just save Snape's life. He could go as far back as Sirius!
Something in the back of his mind began to nag at him, begging him to not keep thinking these irrational thoughts, but the Boy Who Lived was already down the path of bringing those all back to life. No, he could do more.
I can simply destroy Voldemort before ANY of this happened.
He allowed his mind to roam as he finally got to the last door keeping him from his raging ambitions. Without hesitation, he pulled the door open, darkness welcoming him into their cold clutches as he took a step in and lighted his wand. Him and his friends never ventured here since they were too preoccupied with the battle that had occurred during their 'Save Sirius' mission. Harry cursed inwardly at himself for such a dumb, idiot idea. He had gotten his godfather killed, the only family he had left.
'Had'…about to be changed.
He strode deeper, casting small glances from side to side. Large desks were placed against the walls holding multiple items, some decipherable, others hardly. He took twenty more steps into the black room, pausing abruptly at the object at hand.
It glistened brighter than anything else in the room, a small flicker of light on its own from the sands within. Harry would have probably found it without the light from his wand. It was half his height, reaching to his waistline. The sands were all at the bottom, sparkling in a blue color. None of its designs showed that it had any comparison towards Hermione's one. He had been wrong. He slouched to the ground on his knees, head bowed. This was stupid. Everything he did was stupid. He was stupid to let Voldemort control his mind and end up losing Sirius. He was a right dunderhead for allowing Cedric Diggory to grab that portkey. He was fucked up in the head to not stay back when Snape bled to death in front of him. Probably step in before Fred had to be hit with a killing curse. He was…mad, angry… pissed at himself for allowing Ginny to even join their group.
He counted all the deaths that had been his fault. Yes, he blamed himself because of his tomfoolery and Dumbledore's insistence to not attack the Dark Lord. He had to wait. But why? Why couldn't he just go up to the evil son-of-a-bitch and hex his ass right then and there? Why bloody fucking wait?
The silence bore down hard upon him. It was then he realized how alone he felt. There was an aching numbness swelling in the pool of his stomach. A cold draft from somewhere unknown seeped under his long sleeve collared shirt and through the pores of his jeans rising goosebumps across his skin. The warmth of his kids awaited for him at home. How much more stupid could he get? He had them to live by! They were counting on their father's strength to keep them going, help them get through school and making families of their own.
Harry didn't budge as his glasses fell off, nor did he move when a small light began to surround his hunched form. None of this stirred him from his thoughts, so embedded he was. Death now overtook most of his mind and seemed to control every actions that he managed to do.
It was when a small humming sound thrummed across the floor into Harry's senses that he finally fluttered his half-lidded eyes open, water already welling up behind his lashes. His heart stopped.
The sandtimer glowed brilliantly now, waves of blue light lashing towards the one before it, beckoning him closer…to touch. The lights were like that of tendrils, seeking, wanting, curling its way to the one who gaped in awe. The sensation overwhelmed Harry and he only found himself obliging, a tentative hand reaching out. He swallowed, licking his parched lips. The timer was pulsing as if alive, calling to him, giving him a vision of being saved from all of this. The closer his hand got, the warmer his inner self felt, not just his physical being, but the disastrous emotions that were running amuck as of late quelled under its spell.
His palm touched. The light grew brighter and brighter still, a whirlwind spinning around the object and Harry, his clothes rustling angrily against him, glasses forgotten on the ground. He placed his other hand on as well, the most exhilarating sensation flooding almost instantly through his veins and hitting him square in the chest. He stared wide-eyed as his hands were swallowed whole by the light, followed by his arms and soon his body, elation exploding every negative thought away. This, he wouldn't mind dying like this as his eyes rolled and his body fell to the floor, a grin plastered to his unmoving face.
A-N: This story will be a slow-moving one. Though, I will do my best in writing daily as much as I can. That is, if anyone even wants this to be continued. Herr-deh-herrr~