Disclaimer: Harry Potter is (unfortunately) not mine, so save your breath.
If Only
Markus sat lazily in his guard office at the ministry of magic. He had short brown hair and pale blue eyes and was rather tall with an attractive face. He was an auror, a kind of magical policeman. Unfortunately, he and his partner had flipped a coin the other day to see who would have to take the night shift–Markus had lost. And that was why he was here in his little guard office at the unholy hour of 2:15a.m., fighting to stay awake. He yawned, six more hours to go.
Suddenly, Markus felt a huge vibration rumble through the ministry. The vibration grew more audible and stronger and stronger. Markus recognized it through his training as two separate magical pressures, each growing by the second. Was someone having a duel? Who would be having a duel at 2:17a.m. in the middle of the ministry of magic? Panicked and fully awake now, Markus jumped up out of his chair and drew his wand, ready to stop whoever was doing this before they tore the entire building down. He lunged forward towards the door when the magics collided.
Markus pitched forward and hit his head on the door as the magics clashed and then…exploded. The explosion rocked the entire building, shaking Markus down to his very core. The magical lights went out, and things began to fall and break from the vicious trembling.
Markus fell to the ground in a daze as the initial explosion ended, but the building continued to rock in the aftermath. Something wet ran down his face, and he reached up with numb, shaking hands to feel the tacky substance. He dully inspected his sticky fingers through the dark.
Was that … blood?
Markus felt his vision begin to spin, and darkness clouded his view. Lamps crashed to the ground. His desk fell apart. Paper ripped; quills broke, and windows shattered. The ceiling began to crack, and pieces of debris began falling. Markus' last sight before the darkness took him was, quite literally, his world crashing down around him.
Markus woke with a groan just a few minutes later. The rumbling and moving had stopped, and everything seemed calm. Markus reached another hand up to his head. The bleeding had stopped because it was such a shallow wound, but it felt as if he had a concussion. Markus felt around carefully until he found his wand. Pointing it up, he weakly muttered a lumos, and his wand glowed with a dull light, illuminating the room.
The room was in ruins. The entire room was covered in dust from the ceiling. His desk was completely in splinters, and not one window was even partially whole. There was a huge hole in the ceiling, and several cabinets from above had fallen down to his room. Thank God he was on the ground floor. One of the support beams had fallen completely down, narrowly missing Markus' leg.
Groaning again at the pain, Markus hoisted himself up off the floor and tried to open the door. The door fell down opposite Markus with a slam; the hinges had been broken in the explosion. Markus walked carefully down the hallway, a piece of his shirt held to his head by his hand to keep his wound from opening up. The hallway was a mess as well, but not nearly so much as his office had been.
Coughing as the thick dust entered his lungs on removal of the door, Markus moved slowly towards the center of the explosion, where the two wizards had been. How did he know where to go? Simple, go where the most damage was. He crept down the long, winding hallway until he came to courtroom number one, the largest courtroom, only used for the worst sort of criminals – the mass murderers and highest-ranking death eaters among them.
The door was blasted all the way onto the other side of the hallway and into the room across from it. Markus looked in, coughing even harder as the dust still swirled thickly through the air. The entire ceiling seemed to have caved in, most likely crushing the duelers who had been inside. Walking cautiously forward with the light from his wand barely penetrating the grey haze, Markus began to look for either of the two wizards, or, more likely, their bodies. From the evidence, it had been a duel of astounding proportions; both of them powerful, each equal, at least, in power to Dumbledore.
Suddenly, Markus' foot connected with something soft, and he reached down to see who the poor fellow was. "Aaarrrrggghhh!" With a loud, echoing scream, Markus launched himself backwards, trembling violently. He shook desperately trying to get the image out of his mind. "T-those eyes! T-those horrible blood red eyes!" He mumbled incoherently.
The dust stopped swirling, and Markus could see the other body. With another piercing scream, Markus desperately half-crawled, half-ran from the horrible room. He huddled outside in the hallway and curled up into a tight ball, hugging himself and muttering about "blood red eyes" and "hair as dark as night itself." He was a quivering mess. And this was how the ministry found him one hour later.
As they brought the man back to St. Mungos and went to check out the rest of the damage; one question was in everyone's minds. Why were Lord Voldemort, the Dark Lord and murderer of thousands of innocent people, and Harry Potter, Voldemort's number one death eater, most loyal follower, and command killer, both lying dead in court room number one.
James Potter stood with his two best friends at the door to his firstborn son's room. It was only 12 hours since they had gotten the news that both Harry and Voldemort were dead. Outside, the wizarding world rejoiced; but inside this house, the mood was somber and dark. Even if Harry had been a death eater, he had still been their son. Downstairs, Lily sobbed loudly.
Early on, they had kept trying to reach out to him, figure out why he was doing this, what had happened to change him, but to no avail. Harry had continually pushed them away, delving further and further into Voldemort's inner circle until, finally, he was lost to them altogether. James still remembered vividly the first time they had known that Harry was no longer theirs, when they'd known he was Voldemort's.
It had been the summer after Harry's fourth year; he had been a mere three weeks away from turning fifteen. They had sent Harry to his room that day, for verbally attacking his 11 year old brother Jaime. James couldn't even remember what he'd said. When James and Lily had come back up to his room a few hours later to talk, they had discovered him to be missing.
They'd called everyone they could think of via floo, searching desperately for their son; but no one knew where he was. The only thing they had been able to do was wait. They'd waited for hours and hours, desperately hoping for their baby to come home. Finally, late into the night, Harry had come home. They had been about to interrogate him, berate him, chastise him, when they had gotten a close look at him.
He had been covered in blood, his dark hair matted down with it. His clothes had been soaked with it, and he had dirt all over him as well. His skin had been taut and pale, his eyes haunted. He had looked exhausted. Putting aside their concern for his disobeying them and bring out front their concern for their son, they had begun to try to take care of him. Despite how hurt and openly exhausted he had been, Harry hadn't allowed them to help him.
He had been openly hostile, ignoring all offers of help and shying away from any and all touch. Finally, distraught that Harry wouldn't allow them to help him even a little, even though he so clearly needed help, Lily had broken down into sobs. She had put her arms around Harry despite his violent reactions to their touch.
"Harry, Harry, please," she'd cried desperately. "I'm your mother. Please, let me help you. I just want to help you."
Harry had recoiled viciously out of her grasp, eyes flashing, and spat, "You're no mother of mine, you filthy, stupid mudblood."
James still remembered the cold hatred on Harry's face, the deep hurt on Lily's face, and the numb fury on his own face. James remembered the last words he'd ever spoken to his son before he'd become a death eater.
"Get out of my house. No son of mine speaks that way to anyone, especially not their mother! You're no longer welcome here."
Harry had frozen for a second in what seemed to be shock, but then a cruel, dark smile had spread across his face. "It would be my pleasure."
And like that, Harry had been gone, had left. He hadn't gone back to school that year. That summer, he had been fully inducted into the death eaters, rising quickly in the ranks, and, according to Snape, getting private lessons from Voldemort himself. He had soon become Voldemort's favorite and, later, his right hand man. He had been a known death eater, a murderer. He had been a wanted man by the entire ministry, but he had never been caught even though he was always seen around. Since that day, whenever anyone saw Harry, all they had for him were brutal, anger-filled words, and, in some rare cases, pity. Whenever James, Lily, Sirius, or anyone close to the Potters met them, they no longer tried to reach out to him, but spoke hurtful, hateful things to him.
And now they regretted every word. James couldn't help but feel as if this were his fault. If only he had been a better dad, so that Harry would have brought his problems to him before they had grown so large. If only he had been able to understand Harry, had kept trying to help him. If only he hadn't kicked Harry out of the house and into Voldemort's waiting arms. If only he hadn't spoken out in anger and hate towards Harry. If only, maybe … Harry would be alive right now.
James knew Lily felt the same way, as did Sirius and Remus, for their harsh words, Harry's brother and sister as well. Sensing James' distress, Sirius laid a hand on his shoulder in a gesture of comfort. James gave him a grateful, if wobbly, smile. Taking a deep breath, James pushed open the door to a room that no one should have been in for years. But someone had been in there, recently; James knew it immediately. After he had thrown Harry out, James had come up here, cast a silencing charm, and torn the room apart in his grief, yelling, swearing, and sobbing the entire time.
But now, the room was clean, spotless, even. Everything he'd ripped apart was whole; everything he'd obliterated, there. The entire room was neat and tidy and free of dust which should have settled in layers over the years, for it had been years – 3 of them, in fact. Harry had still been just 3 years away from turning 18 when he'd died. James looked around frantically.
Had whoever had done this taken away his one last chance of understanding why Harry had join Voldemort? His one last chance at figuring out how and why Harry had died. Then he saw it, a pensieve in the corner of the room, waiting patiently for James to notice it. James rushed over. The pensieve had a single memory in it and a note taped to it. James tried to reach in and see the memory but was repelled, so he pulled off the note and read it.
This pensieve contains a last message from me, Harry James Potter. I wish for this message to be seen by the following people, and the memory will not be accessible until they're all here. :Lily and James Potter, Jaime Potter, Erica Potter, Sirius Black, Remus Lupin, Albus Dumbledore, all Order of the Phoenix members available, Hermione Granger, Ron Weasley, Draco Malfoy, Minister Fudge, and five representatives from the ministry. Please watch the memory.
James felt his heart skip a beat. Last words from Harry. James itched to break the spell and dive right into the memory but knew he had to wait for everyone. Why did Harry want Ron or Hermione? He hadn't spoken to them since first year. And why Minister Fudge and reps from the ministry? He handed the note over to Sirius and Remus, who gasped, hopeful looks coming onto their faces.
James smiled, just a little. Even if Harry was gone, maybe he, James, could understand him yet. And, then, James rushed down the stairs, Sirius and Remus hot on his tail, to tell Lily.
Later that evening, the entire Order, the Potters, Draco Malfoy, and the five reps from the ministry sat waiting for Dumbledore to arrive with the minister in the courtroom right next to courtroom number one. James and Lily's eyes couldn't help wandering over to the newly repaired courtroom as they walked over to their own.
That was where Harry had died. Who cares if Voldemort died there too; that was where Harry had died. They still had to bury him. The ministry had already burned Voldemort's body and scattered the ashes, as if afraid he could come back any second, and they had been about to do the same to Harry when Lily and James interfered. Lily's eyes filled up with tears at the thought, and James put an arm comfortingly around her.
Jaime, aged 14 now, and Erica, aged 9 now, Harry's younger brother and sister sat nervously. The only Harry Erica really remembered was a mean Harry. Though she did have a few good memories, most of her memories of Harry were horrible. She did not miss him very much because of this. He had never really been a brother to her.
Jaime, however, fully remembered Harry back before he had changed and missed him greatly. Harry had been his best friend, and then, suddenly, Harry acted like he hated him. Jaime remembered vividly the last day Harry had been a part of his family. He had been trying without success to get Harry to go play quidditch with him for the umpteenth time, when, suddenly, Harry had just snapped. One minute, he was begging his brother to go play with him, and the next, Harry was holding a wand up to his face.
"You can't do magic on summer holidays," he'd muttered.
"Try me," Harry had shot back before stuffing his wand back in his robes and pushing Jaime into the wall. "Now leave me alone, pest."
"I'm not a pest," Jaime had tried to defend himself.
"No," Harry had agreed before beginning to walk away. "You're a useless waste of precious air."
"No, I'm not!" He'd tried to grab Harry only to be quickly slammed up against the ground.
"I said, 'Leave. Me. Alone. Pest.'" Harry had whispered, pinning Jaime down. Unfortunately for Harry, that moment was exactly when James and Lily had come walking by. Needless to say, there had been much yelling and parenting on their part and a lot of ignoring and sarcasm from Harry, which ended up with Harry being sent to his room.
Jaime had watched as Harry sullenly walked up there and slammed the door before deciding to go outside and fly his broom without Harry. He had only been out there for a few minutes when he had seen Harry sneaking down out of his room using a levitation charm and then apparated away. Jaime had been surprised, even though he supposed he shouldn't have been; Harry hadn't even been old enough to legally apparate at the time.
Jaime had then sneaked into Harry's room to wait for him to come back and confront him. He had waited and waited and waited, hidden in Harry's room until finally, he heard the door open down stairs. He heard talking and then shouting, and then crying, until Harry came stomping up the stairs. He opened the door to his room and paced for a little while before sitting down on the edge of his bed and hanging his head between his knees. He had been covered in blood and had looked so exhausted that Jaime remembered being surprised that he hadn't' just dropped down asleep then and there.
Silently, Jaime had crept out of his hiding place and placed a hand on Harry's shoulder. He hadn't been expecting Harry to twirl around in an instant and knock him onto the ground again, much harder this time, though, and place a glowing wand directly between his eyes. Harry had started when he saw who it was, and Jaime remembered noting that his eyes had been unusually bright.
"What are you doing here?" Harry had growled, voice rough.
"I-I came here to tell you something."
Harry had paused before getting off Jaime and putting his wand away. "What, you little brat? I have things I need to do, and you're just wasting my time."
"I'm not a brat! Or a pest, or a useless waste of air! That's what I can here to say. You have no right to put me down like that!" Jaime had exploded, and it had felt good to say.
Harry had looked at him calculatingly for a few seconds before giving a thin, evil smile. "Very well, you're not a useless waste of air…if you help me pack."
Jaime had taken that as an invitation to keep talking and had moved to help Harry gather up his belongings. "Why are you packing?"
Harry had faltered for a few seconds before replying, "I'm leaving."
"What?"
"I'm leaving. I shouldn't stay here anymore…I can't stay here anymore."
"Why not?" Jaime had gasped in outrage.
Harry faltered again. "Our-…your parents and I had a fight. I said some things and your father finally kicked me out, something he should have done a long time ago."
"What did you say? This has to be a mistake. You guys can make up; what did you say, Harry? Harry?"
Harry had just ignored him, instead moving to shrink the now full trunk so that he could stuff it in his pocket. He had moved over towards the window and opened it, stepping out, one leg in and one out. "I can't, Jaime, I have to go."
"But, wait, Harry! Jaime had cried, moving towards the boy who had once been his best friend. "Please, you're my brother. I want to help you."
Harry had faltered once more, stopping to look at Jaime. His look had been…Jaime didn't even know how to describe it. It had spoken of things he didn't know and memories he didn't have and sadness…such sadness that it had torn Jaime apart to see. He still remembered the absolute agony that had shown on Harry's face.
"Please, Harry," Jaime had pressed softly. "What did you say? We can fix this."
And then, the look had been gone in an instance, replaced by a hard glare full of disgust and hate. Apparently, Jaime had said the wrong thing. "I'm leaving now, and I'm never going to come back." He had swung his legs over, and, just before jumping, had cast one last look back at Jaime, this one filled with compassion. "Don't do anything stupid, Jaime."
And then Harry had been gone. Jaime had stayed in the room for a few minutes before hastily beating it as he had heard his father coming up the stairs. But he had seen it. The boy Harry had once been had still been in there, hidden beneath layers of rage and hate. Jaime had continued every other time he had seen Harry to try to bring that boy out, but it hadn't worked. He had been so sure he could get Harry back. If only he had tried harder, had fought harder, to free Harry from Voldemort, had defended Harry to his father. If only…but it didn't matter anymore; Harry was gone from the world now, for good.
Ron and Hermione looked significantly uncomfortable. It had been years since they had been friends with Harry, and from the very end of first year to now, there had only been animosity between them and Harry. They had never been able to understand why Harry had abruptly ended their friendship at the end of first year. Heck, they'd only had two more days left in the semester when Harry had suddenly come up to them, saying he was done being friends with them. They had been too young to understand anything other than the fact that they had suddenly lost a friend.
They had kept trying to find out why and fix whatever had gone wrong in the friendship. They'd sent him countless letters over the summer and cornered him numerous times during second year. It had grown harder and harder to try to talk to him as the year went on, for Harry had started handing out with Draco Malfoy and the other Slytherins – though Snape still seemed to dislike him. Ron and Hermione couldn't understand why Harry had suddenly become friends with someone he had hated in the past but wasn't friends with them, and they had begun to feel tired of trying to fix things between them.
Eventually, they just stopped trying. Harry had still avoided them and the other Gryffindors as much as physically possible, and they had hardly even seen him at all until eventually he stopped coming to school. As for how they both felt, both Ron and Hermione were glad there was one less death eater running around out there; and that Voldemort was gone, and yet…
They hadn't wanted it to end like this. At one point, he had been their best friend. Ron had known Harry since they were toddlers. The question that stood out the most in their minds was why? Why had he become a death eater? Harry had had a perfect family, good friends; he was wealthy, had gotten good grades…so why would someone with a perfect life ruin it like that? And he had been turned so young; the only people who turned dark so young were raised by death eaters! They just couldn't understand.
Draco Malfoy sat comfortably, sprawled out in one of the chairs, ignoring the glares and dark looks coming towards him. So what if people thought he was part of the reason Harry had turned dark? He was here to support one of his best friends. Draco felt sadness well up within him, but he pushed it down. He knew that Harry would want people to be happy and celebrate that Voldemort was finally gone, not that he, Harry, was dead. So Draco tried to be happy that he was finally free of that monster, and he tried to look forward to hearing the last message Harry had sneaked into Hogwarts to make a few weeks ago.
But still, Draco felt pain that his best friend was finally dead. He had known Harry would die. Heck, Harry had even told him that he was going to die, and soon! But still, he hadn't been ready for it. Draco sighed. The only thing to do now was to wait for Dumbledore and that idiot of a minister to arrive so he could see his best friend, practically his brother, face-to-face for the last time.
The air in the room was heavy with tension. Everyone shifted uncomfortably in the worn, splintering seats. Suddenly, the door creaked open; and a grim-looking Dumbledore walked in, bringing with him a spluttering Fudge.
"Dumbledore, Dumbledore! I don't see why I have to come. Who cares if he asked for me to be here; I'm the Minister of Magic! I have work to do!" Fudge's face grew increasingly red with every word.
Dumbledore's eyes flashed angrily for a second at Fudge disrespecting a man's last wish, but he calmly said, "Think of how the people will see you if you would humbly and kindly honored a man's last request, especially a death eater's last request. You will be seen as kind and compassionate, two qualities that people love in a leader."
Fudge thought this over and nodded, going to sit down in the largest, most comfortable looking chair. "Very well, Dumbledore."
James and Lily sent Dumbledore silent looks of thanks, and many of the others in the room silently applauded his artful manipulation of Fudge. "Is everyone here?" Dumbledore's eyes trailed around the room as the people nodded their heads. "Good, then, everyone into the pensieve." Everyone grumbled and squeezed and pushed, but eventually, they all were inside the memory.
They were in a large room filled with comfortable looking coaches and chairs, all decked out in Gryffindor colors of scarlet and gold. Draco sneered at the color choice, recognizing the room of requirement. Suddenly, James and Lily gasped, causing the rest of the room to turn towards where they were looking. There sat Harry Potter. He looked good, with his dark hair, nice robes, and bright green eyes. Lily wondered not for the first time if James had just cloned himself and made her think she'd given birth to Harry.
Several occupants of the room pulled out their wands and were about to fire curses when they remembered it was just a memory. They all circled around warily, took seats on the numerous coaches surrounding Harry, and watched. To their great surprise, he was just sitting there, twiddling his thumbs and … whistling. After a few more seconds, Harry looked up from his thumbs and smiled. Smiled. Lily and James couldn't even remember how long it had been since they'd last seen Harry smile.
"Hello, I hope I've given you enough time to get comfortable. And I hope you've got enough seats. That's why I chose the room of requirement, see? I wonder if it works through a memory..."
Every one gasped. He was in the room of requirement. He was in Hogwarts. How on earth did he get into Hogwarts without any of them knowing? In the background, Draco smirked. On screen, Harry laughed. Lily and James seemed to drink in the sound, as they had not heard it in so long. Many of the people looked surprised at seeing someone who had done so much evil sound so pure. Why was he being so polite?
"I wish I could see your face," Harry laughed before calming down and smiling kindly again. "Yes, I'm at Hogwarts. I've been visiting ever since I was kicked out. I've always been able to get into Hogwarts. And, for your information, I have not used this information to lead any raid or kill/maim any innocents."
James and Lily seemed to perk up a bit at this, but several parents or people with relatives in Hogwarts looked a little sick at this. Draco just kept smirking. Harry continues, more seriously now.
"Now, I'm sure you didn't' come here just so you could hear me ramble on about useless things you don't care about; you want answers. 'Why did you join Voldemort? What did we do wrong? How did you die?'" Harry's eyes softened sadly. "Yes, I know I'm dead. That is, if you're seeing this, I am. But I'll talk more about that later. For now, I think I owe you an explanation. I'll start at the beginning." Harry took a deep breath and seemed to steady himself before going on.
"It all started two weeks before the last semester of my first year ended. I was sitting up late in the library. Well, more specifically, I was sleeping late in the library. I woke up after hours and was heading to my dormitory in the middle of the night, when, I was … visited. By none other than Voldemort himself." Harry laughed. "Ha! I can finally call him Voldemort now. I got sick and tired of calling him the Dark Lord. Lord of what? Who in their right mind would make him lord of anything?"
Gasps resounded throughout the room, and several glares were directed towards Dumbledore for not keeping Voldemort out. Lily and James looked worriedly at Harry, and several people looked as if Harry's betrayal was starting to make sense to them. Harry's eyes clouded over in memory.
"I don't remember exactly everything he said at first. It had something to do with a prophecy and destiny and joining him to rule the world. Then he started trying to seduce me with thoughts of power and wealth, but I was twelve years old and could have cared less. Voldemort, of course, being a leglimens, knew that, so he tried a different tactic.
"He threatened you. My family, my friends, my home. He threatened to kill each and everyone one of you. To torture you, defile you; and he made sure I knew that he would make me watch every second of it. Then he left with the promise of coming back in a week for my answer."
Harry shook his head sadly. "I don't remember that much about that week either, though you probably do, don't you, Ron, Hermione? I was completely out of it. I had no idea what to do, and I remember you guys insisting I go to Madame Promphrey's on more than one occasion, only for me to be sent back when you finally got me to go because there was nothing wrong with me.
I was horrified. I was terrified. I was twelve years old. I only wanted to protect the people I cared about. So I did the only thing I thought I could. When he came back a week later … I said yes."
Everyone looked around in sad surprise. If Voldemort got to him that young, it was no wonder joining him was the only thing he could do without endangering anyone he cared about. A few murmurs of pity ran through the crowd, but, still, he had obviously embraced the lifestyle somewhere down the line and was still guilty. Harry kept talking.
"Even if I had to join him, I didn't want to support him. I wanted to stop him. So, in order to do so, I made up a plan. I decided to rise through the ranks of death eaters, become his right hand man, and overthrow him. Right now, I've pretty much accomplished all but the overthrowing. I'm still working on that, though." Harry laughed again. "The hat always did say I would do well in Slytherin."
People looked around and muttered, saying things like, "makes sense" and "we should've known." Draco smiled smugly. James looked rather stricken at this, and Sirius was muttering darkly; but Lily sent them a look that made them stop. Remus shook his head sadly, but it was more likely at James and Sirius' behavior than the Slytherin thing. James and Sirius seemed to wake up. After all, even if the hat had considered putting him in Slytherin, it had put him in Gryffindor.
"So, if I was going to rise through the ranks, I needed to convince Voldemort that I was a death eater through and through. This is where the part of me being a complete and total jerk comes in. I couldn't stay friends with Ron or Hermione as a death eater, and so I had to stop being friends with them. It took a while since they were such amazing friends. They refused to let me go without a fight."
Harry seemed to be looking directly at Ron and Hermione. "Thanks, guys. You were better friends than I deserve. I'm so sorry I gave you all that crap when you were just trying to help me. I'm sorry I had to put you through that." Tears had begun to well up in Hermione's eyes, and Ron looked a little bit pink in the face (and in the ears). Harry smiled and went on.
"Now, you may be wondering how I planned to fool Voldemort into thinking I was fully committed to him and his cause. Simple, when I went home that summer, I took a few books on occlumency home with me. I'm sad to say; I don't think I ever returned them. I know, truly evil of me."
Madam Prince squawked in indignation. She had joined the Order just the past year. She began roaming around the room, muttering about "darn right he's evil." She seemed more upset about him stealing library books than him joining Voldemort.
"That entire summer, I worked my but off to master occlumency. I practically lived in my room that summer; you remember, don't you Jaime? You kept begging me to come out and play, and I…I slammed the door in your face. I had to start being horrible then and there. Eventually, I got good enough at occlumency that Voldemort couldn't see past the fake, evil consciousness I set up in front of my real consciousness. Granted, he didn't expect me to have a decoy conscious, but still.
"Voldemort took a liking to me – gah, I gag just saying that – and decided to take me under his wing. He taught me spells, potions, things worse than I could ever have imagined, how to hurt…maim…kill. I spent my time after I first joined him until fourth year taking weekly lessons from him.
"For all he knew, I was eager to learn the things he was teaching me; eager for power, smart, and cunning. And so, I began my like of fitting into the persona of a death eater…I hated every second of it. I had to lie and cheat, be cruel and mean, say hurtful things. I had to forget everyone's birthdays, or at least act like I did, and not get them anything on Christmas."
Harry looked purely tortured at this point, and even Fudge was beginning to feel some sympathy for him, when Harry perked up a little. "If you look in my room, under a loose floorboard, I have every single present I wasn't able to give anyone kept under there. They're all labeled and under a shrinking charm. I never stopped buying them." Harry gave a bitter laugh.
"If there's one thing you can credit Voldemort with, it's the pay roll. I never kept any of the money. Some, I used for presents; the rest, I gave to those who needed it. I hated having to act the way I did. I was never able to smile or laugh around my family anymore; I missed that. It feels so good to smile now, knowing that you're all watching this." Harry looked solemnly at all of them.
"I cannot tell all of you how extremely and absolutely sorry I am for everything I've had to put you through over all the years. Every time I put one of you down, or insulted you, or ignored you, I felt as if a piece of me died." Harry's voice chocked a little, and he hastily rubbed a few flittering tears from his eyes.
"I am so sorry to everyone I hurt. Uncle Moony," Remus jumped a little, both at being addressed so suddenly and being called by his nickname, something Harry hadn't done in years. "I'm sorry for every time I called you a monster or a filthy half-breed or a danger to everyone around you, or a blight on the-well, you get the point. I'm so sorry; I never meant it. You're just as human as the rest of us. Paddy,"
Sirius jumped as well, scared out of his concentration on giving his now watery-eyed friend a comforting smile. "I'm sorry I kept comparing you to your family. You're nothing like them, and they were a bunch of abusive, pure-blood bigots. You should be glad you were sorted into Gryffindor rather than with the rest of their ilk, not that I have anything against Slytherin house; most of them are quite nice, actually. And I'd rethink how you feel about Regulus as well.
"Jaime, I'm sorry for all the times I called you a pest, said you weren't important, that you were nothing but just a burden to our family. You aren't nothing, and you aren't a pest. I loved having you around. Erica, I'm sorry I was always taking your things and pulling your hair, for that time I locked you in the closet for two hours. I hated doing that.
"Ron, Hermione, I'm sorry for ignoring you. I missed you both so much…I still miss you. I'm so sorry to all the rest of you again for all the trouble I put you through. I never did stop watching over you, though, when I was at Hogwarts. Jaime, remember that time you were about to be caught by Filch for being out after hours, and some loud crash scared him away from where you were? I did that; got two weeks detention for it too. Everyone seemed to be under the impression I'd attacked another student or something.
"Ron, what about when you were attacked in the hallway and were mysteriously rescued? Or, Hermione, when you were studying in the library; and those creeps kept bugging you, and then suddenly one day, they stopped. You never saw them again, or least, they kept far, far out of your way. The list goes on and on, and I did all of it. Or most of it anyways; Draco watched out for you after I left."
Everyone looked over at Draco, who suddenly seemed to find something in the wall extremely interesting. Ron, Hermione, and Jaime looked at each other in shock and then at Draco in gratitude. There had been a lot of strange rescues when Harry'd been at Hogwarts. Even after he had left, there had been rescues, albeit fewer of them. Draco smirked behind his hand where no one could see. Harry smiled brightly, as if seeing Draco's smirk.
"There were some good parts to this, though. For example, I learned that all Slytherins aren't greasy gits. I know; I know, 'gasp, disbelief, oh, no you didn't!'" True to Harry's thought pattern, several people gasped in disbelief at this, and Remus thought he might have heard Sirius mutter "Sacrilege." Draco smirked even more, though it diminished at Harry's next words.
"Don't get me wrong, though. A good few of them are greasy gits, but there are a lot of Slytherins out there who aren't. Did you know that most of the young Slytherins only act the way they do because of the way the school treats them? Or that nearly all of the death eater's children here don't want to be death eaters and don't agree with Voldemort? They want him gone as much as we do.
"I found that with a few of these Slytherins I could safely be myself. As it turns out, all of my close Slytherin friends learned occlumency at a young age without their parent's or Voldemort's knowledge. Down right…Slytherin of them, don't you agree? I may have helped a few of them out along the way, though. Right now, Draco probably understands me more than anyone else; and I didn't even tell him my plan, though he probably suspected."
All eyes turned once more to Draco, who was getting sick of people staring at him in something other than hatred. "I should have known that the only plan he wouldn't' tell me about would be the one that got him killed. He's right, though; I had a bit of an idea of what he planned." Draco muttered sadly. James and Lily begged Draco with their eyes to tell them more about their son. After a few seconds, Draco nodded his head, with an unspoken "Later" on his face. Harry continued.
"Now, like I said, I kept rising higher and higher in the ranks of death eaters. It probably helped that Voldemort really seemed to like me for some reason. He hadn't made me go on any missions yet, just training, but that day, that summer before my fourth year, I was forced to go on my first mission. Jaime, I'm sorry. I can't even remember what I said to you that got me sent to my room. I didn't think I'd be gone too long, so I tried to find a way to make it so that I could disappear for a few hours without anyone noticing."
James' and Lily's breath caught in their throats. This was the day. The day that they'd kicked Harry out. Now, they would finally find out what had happened. Harry carried on with a visible struggle.
"He took me out to a muggle town; I don't know where. He caught some muggle man whose name I had never learned and a muggle woman; I think they were married. He took the woman, and…he tortured her. He cast cutting charm after cutting charm on her, and he made me watch. He made me get so close that her blood covered me head-to-toe. I still don't think I've gotten the smell of it off my skin. Then he killed her.
"Voldemort took the man…he made me torture him this time. He made me use every curse I knew that wouldn't cause death. Then he made me kill him. I never forget that. The screaming, the blood, the begging for mercy, the sudden silence. The worst part is that I had to act like I enjoyed it, like I had fun. I lost a part of me that day that I'll never get back.
"Even now, I can't help wondering. Did they have a kid? Parents? Friends? Did I ruin countless lives just by killing that one man? Would their family even find their bodies to bury them? These questions haunt me every waking step. I hate myself for what I did."
Tears were streaming down Harry's face, and his eyes were haunted with memories from that day. And he still had more to tell.
"When I got home that night, I nearly broke down, nearly gave up on this façade, especially when I talked to you, Jaime. But in the end, I couldn't. I had to see what I started so long ago to the end. But I couldn't stay in that house anymore, not when Voldemort promised me active service as soon as I turned fifteen. He acted like it was some sort of reward.
"So, I…called Mum a mudblood. I knew it would enrage dad enough to get him to kick me out, pain her enough to keep her from stopping him; but I didn't expect the pain that came along when I said it. I felt as if I had completely lost myself that night, and that I would never find my self again. Oh, Mum," Harry whispered, the tears still coming. "I'm so sorry. I can't ever be sorry enough. And Dad, I'm sorry for pushing you to do that."
Lily broke down and sobbed into James' shoulder. The entire room was filled with silent tears and shocked silence. Even Fudge didn't seem to have the heart to say something idiotic. Jaime couldn't look away from his brother. So that was what he had said.
"I'm afraid I almost broke down again with Jaime, when I saw him later. I'm sorry for what I said, Jaime. I think I let a bit of myself show through that night, and, while I don't know your reasons, I'm glad you didn't tell anyone. Thank you."
James and Lily looked at Jaime in surprise and mild disappointment but also with understanding. Jaime hung his head in shame. If only he had said something, told someone.
"I-I went to go stay with Draco. He took me in without a word. He didn't even ask what had happened. I couldn't have asked for a better friend. You guys know most of what happens next. I quit school, and Voldemort started training and using me full time. I went on so many raids, killed so many innocent people. But eventually, my plan began to work.
"It didn't really matter much to me at the time. I was so caught up in all the pain from what I'd been forced to do and all the hate raging through the death eaters and Voldemort and, well, everyone I met, that I almost forgot why I was there. I was caught up in a sea of anger and murder.
But, eventually, I got Voldemort to trust me enough to learn about the horcruxes. Oh, the things I had to do to get that to happen. He seemed to think he was bestowing the highest of pleasures on me by teaching me about them. The process for making a horcrux was long and grueling and Voldemort had to explain every bit of it to me. I hated it, but it woke me up, reminded me of what I had set out to do in the beginning. I was renewed in my determination to bring him down.
"And so, through the past three years, I have been going after each and every one of them. I have been systematically destroying them, one by one. Now all I need to do is kill Voldemort. I'm planning to do it in the ministry, in court room one. I'm going to call him there with a promise of important information, and I will do my best to kill him. A little bit ironic, considering the location; but maybe that's why I want to kill him there, under the ministry's very nose.
"All horcruxes aside, Voldemort is still one of most powerful wizards around and a better dueler than I can hope to be. But I've been dueling with him for years, and I think I can beat him; but I won't escape with my life. I know I'm going to die, but hopefully, I'll take Voldemort with me. …NO, I know I'll take Voldemort with me. I've come too far and done too much to fail now. If I do kill Voldemort, then it'll all have been worth it.
"If Voldemort lives, well, I'm sorry for all I did to you; but I tried. I tried, and I'll have darn near succeeded and come closer than anyone else has before. If he does live, you can all just gain up on him to kill him; he's human now and can't make anymore horcruxes, or his soul with shatter from the strain. It can end, and it will end; and, like it or not, I started the ending.
"No matter what happens, it isn't any of your faults. I did this; I pushed you to this. And don't think 'I should have known;' you shouldn't have. I was just too good of an actor. I want all of you to know that, no matter how I acted or what I did, I love you all. I wouldn't have been able to do this if it weren't for my love for you. I guess you were right in the end, Dumbledore. Love is our greatest weapon against Voldemort."
Dumbledore started in surprise, as did most of the Order members. He'd said that at an Order meeting. Memory Harry laughed.
"Don't worry if Voldy's still alive. I'm the only one who was able to listen in on any of your meetings. And no, I didn't tell anyone what happened at them. Now, some of you may be asking why I am telling you this entire story when I could just have let Draco in on the plan and had him tell you how to kill Voldemort if I fail?" Harry swallowed a lump in his throat and continued.
"I'm dead. I-I have one request, though. Please bury me in the family plot. I guess that's the one thing I couldn't deal with. I cold deal with infamy and hate, but this is the one thing I can't' give up. My last selfish request, the only real point to this entire memory. Gosh, I feel like such a brat." Harry laughed.
"I need to go know. If I know Draco at all, he's about ready to hex the door off the room. He just has no sense of patience. And now, I'm off to go try to kill one of the most powerful dark lords of all time; and I know that whatever happens I'll die. Gosh, I sound morbid, talking about all this death. Ignore my bouts of self-pity.
"Now, I'm about to sound incredibly corny; but I love you all, and I'll miss you so much. Don't feel bad about what's happened to me, and remember that it was all my choice; you couldn't have done anything to change it. Just…remember me. Good bye…"
Silence pervaded as they were sucked out of the memory. Everyone looked at one another in horror. Finally, Madame Bones, one of the ministry representatives, stood up. "Where are you going?" Fudge demanded. He gulped as Bones leveled a cold stare in his direction.
"I'm going to go ask the Unspeakable who cleaned up Voldemort if his story checks out, and, if it does, I'm going to clear this young man's name. I'll make sure the wizarding world knows him for what he is…a hero."
"B-but, you can't possibly believe – you don't have the authority!"
"I can believe, and I do have the authority. If this is true, then that boy suffered and sacrificed himself for us. I will make sure he is remembered in honor, not infamy." With that, she walked, dignified, out of the courtroom. Slowly, people followed, stopping to give small shows of comfort to the Potters.
Draco stopped and said softly, "I just want you to know that Harry would want you to be happy that the dark lord's dead, not sad that Harry is dead." Lily gave a small, stiff nod in understanding. "You'll let me know when the funeral is?" Draco asked carefully and got another nod in return. With a promise to come, Draco left.
Eventually, it was just the marauders, the Potters, and Dumbledore. Dumbledore got up to leave but stopped and touched a hand to James' and Lily's shoulders. He spoke, his voice heavy with sadness and sympathy. "I just want you to know how sorry I am for your loss. The entire wizarding world had lost a savior we did not even know we had.
"However, I do agree with Harry and Mr. Malfoy. You cannot blame yourselves. If anyone is to blame, it is Voldemort. We had no way of knowing what Harry was doing. He was simply a remarkable wizard."
Was.
Dumbledore left, and a heavy, somber silence hung around. Lily's eyes were bright red from crying. James' face looked pale and worn, and tear tracks from the few tears he had been unable to contain showed on his face. Sirius and Remus seemed to be huddled close together for comfort; horror etched on both of their faces. Sirius, because of the things he had said to Harry echoing in his ears, and Remus, merely because of the fact that He hadn't believed in Harry.
Jaime and Erica sat close together next to their parents. Jaime looked distraught at the fact that he had just found out that his big brother was good just after he'd died, and Erica simply looked confused. She glanced between her grieving family members.
"Mom? Dad?" She asked, voice soft, "does this mean that Harry wasn't bad?"
James let out a small, strangled sound and reached down to pick her up; and he hugged her tight. "No," he said in a weak voice, "Big Brother Harry wasn't bad at all. He's a hero. Your brother saved the world."
"From Moldy Shorts?" she asked innocently, causing James to let out a watery laugh.
"Yes, from Moldy Shorts."
"Oh." Erica looked down, sad. She had never really tried to get to know her brother because whenever she had, he would pick on her. And now, she found out that not only was he dead; but he had saved the world. She felt a pang of longing for the family she'd never bothered to get to know. If only she had tried, maybe she could have convinced him not to do this on his own.
The Potters looked around at their family, which they had thought had been missing a member since six years ago but had only lost that member just yesterday. If they had thought the fact of Harry being a death eater had been painful, finding out he hadn't been and was gone was 20 times worse.
It would have been so easy to just give into their grief and stay there for hours, falling to pieces; but Draco and Dumbledore's words echoed in their minds. Harry deserved better than this after all he had done. They needed to move on and live, but always remember…for Harry. And slowly, but surely, they got to their feet and shuffled out of the courtroom that had shown them the truth.
The funeral was a small, private affair. Only those closest to the Potters and Harry were invited. The entire wizarding world was in shock, reeling in the knowledge that they had been saved by one their worst enemies. Voldemort had been burned on the spot by the suspicious Unspeakable as soon as they had gotten all the data on his body, and they had almost gotten Harry too; but the Potters had managed to save his body.
As the funeral was going on, a statue was being placed in the middle of Diagon Alley and the ministry building depicting Harry in auror robes, wand drawn, facing down Voldemort, a plaque depicting his epic tale at the bottom. Draco had laughed long and hard when he'd heard – he knew Harry would have hated that. All in all, there were only about twenty people there in the Potter's cemetery at the open casket.
Lily had healed all of Harry's wounds, cleaned him off, and dressed him in James' vest suit, crying the entire time. Harry looked extremely peaceful, laying there. You wouldn't even think he was dead if it weren't for the fact that he wasn't breathing. The only scar from his fight with Voldemort was a strange one in the shape of a lightning bolt on his forehead, caused by some of the falling debris.
No matter how many times Lily had tried, she couldn't get it to go away. The best she could do was getting it to close up and fade a little bit. It was almost as if the scar belonged there on his skin. Eventually, she just let it be, as it seemed to fit him for some odd reason she couldn't comprehend.
Harry looked content and happy. Finally, his life of living a lie was over; and his family was safe.
The sermon was a short one; no one really knew Harry well enough anymore to give a long one, and Draco refused to talk about Harry's life in front of a crowd. He knew Harry wouldn't want that. As they carefully lowered Harry down into the ground, next to his grandparents, Lily and James remembered. They remembered the day Harry was born. Every smile, every laugh, every prank, every hug and every kiss, every tear, every insult, every fight, every lie.
And suddenly, as they watched the coffin holding their first born son slowly sink into the ground, they felt more at peace. Harry had been resigned to his fate. Heck, from what little Draco had told them before the funeral, he had been happy to die for those he'd cared about. Harry had been brave, incredibly brave.
He had gone through so much pain and trial and came out the one lying in the ground in the end, and, yet, Harry had never given up hope. He had never fallen back into the dark arts and given up love for hate and light for darkness. They knew that wherever Harry was, he was happy because his job was finally done. And so, it was their turn to be brave.
Slowly, the well-wishers trickled away; and Remus and Sirius returned to the house, which was just over the hill with the kids until James and Lilly were alone with Draco in front of the freshly dug grave. Draco took out his wand and conjured up a flower, laying it down on the grave. He looked up and said, "It was his favorite flower."
"Oh," Lily said softly, eyes watery. What else was there to say? Wind picked up and blew around them, chilling them, even in the warn summer sunlight. Lily and James stepped forwards toward Draco.
"Tell me more about my son," James said sadly. Draco nodded his head and was led over the hill and into the house. They sat in the kitchen, and the windows were shut and the curtains closed so that no light escaped form them, and the only light was from a single candle in the middle of the table. The light flickered and swayed, casting ghostly shadows all around the room. They sat in the worn wooden chairs, the wood breaking slightly, as if in welcome.
Silence once again loomed among them as Draco searched for the right words to say. "Harry…was my best friend. He probably understood me more than anyone else, and I him. He kept me grounded, kept me from falling back on to that pompous mask I wore around the world. I tried to keep him out, but around him, the mask just kept chipping piece by piece until finally, it was gone. When Harry was being himself, he brought out the best of everyone he was with. He…was hard to describe. I…"
Draco sighed and looked down at his hands uncomfortably. James and Lily watched him avidly, voraciously drinking up every dingle detail about the man their son had become. "I…guess I should start with how we met. Not for the very first time, mind you. I'm sure he told you all about that, but for the first time after he joined."
Draco chuckled a bit. "You've got to imagine how I was feeling. One day just before school started, my father comes home from a meeting and tells me that Harry Potter has suddenly defected to the death eaters, and the dark lord wanted me to make nice with him. I thought he was joking at first, and I know that my father never jokes.
"Anyways, so it's the first day of the new school year; and I'm on my way to my first class of DADA, when I see these two sixth year Gryffindors walking towards me. Now I, being the stupid little second year I was, I decided it would be good for that public persona of an evil Slytherin I was trying to cultivate if I tripped them. I know; I know. What an idiot, but, hey, I was twelve. All twelve year old boys are notoriously dumb; it's a fact.
"So anyways, there I am, getting faced down by two angry sixth years when along comes Harry. These two are about to hex the life out of me, and Harry just shimmies up between me and them and stares. Those Gryffindors had no ideas what to do – here was one of their own, a Potter no less, defending a Malfoy! I remember they just stared back for a few seconds before growling something along the lines of 'Move!'
"Harry just kept staring. So they tried to push past him to get to me. Now, we were standing right next to the stairs, so when they tried to get past Harry, he pushed them just a tad; and they fell down."
James and Lily gasped in horror, so Draco quickly went on.
"Oh, don't worry; he used a cushioning charm so they wouldn't be hurt. He then walked all the way down the stairs to cast a memory charm on them – something that isn't in the second year curriculum. Then he just started walking away. Up until this point, I had just been staring at him; but when he turned to leave, I blurted out, 'Wait, where are you going?'
"Harry just looked at me and said, 'Library.'
"So I said, 'But what about them? Won't they wonder what happened?'
"Harry just shrugged and said, 'They're Gryffindors; they're always doing something stupid. So they won't be surprised about waking up at the bottom of some stairs; I should know.'
"And then he just walked away. I knew right then and there that I had to find out more about why he was acting this way. So I started following him around and talking to him every chance I got, and, eventually, I got to know him so well that he became my best friend."
James and Lily looked at Draco hopefully and gratefully. "Can you tell us more?" James asked. "What was he like? What did he like to do? What was his favorite food?"
"Well, Harry had a hero complex a mile high. I remember one time…"
In the middle of the Potter family cemetery, a freshly dug grave sat in the morning sun. On top of the grave sat small tokens, flowers, ribbons, candy, but most prominent of all was a single white lily lying right on the middle of the grave. The small grave headstone was inscribed with six simple lines.
Harry James Potter
Killer of Lord Voldemort
Savior of the Wizarding World
Forsaken in Life
Cherished in Death
If Only We Had Known
Finis
Author's Note: Gosh, that was long, wasn't it? And pretty angsty too. I tried to keep away from humor for this one, but some snuck its way in there. My writing style is affected by what I'm listening to and what mood I'm in when I write. Word to the wise, never listen to comedy shows while working on angst. I worked on this for a while, over a period of many days, which is why it is so long; and the writing style differs a little every now and again. The idea just hit me one night and wouldn't go away until I wrote it down. I hope you liked it, and please, please, please, review! I don't care if you liked it, hated it, or had no opinion; REVIEW! Just tell me what you think…or don't think. I really don't mind; I just want to hear some feedback.