This is here:
Harry was sure that Severus Snape had taken precautions against being found after his involuntary disappearance from Spinner's End; after all he was still officially on the run from both the Ministry for Magic and the Order of the Phoenix. But Harry had found him before and he found him again, this time in a Muggle estate in Cardiff, living on the top floor.
Shouting could be heard from the door to the left, a teary woman's voice and a man, bellowing in a Welsh accent made heavy with alcohol. A baby was crying in the flat to the right, shrieking and howling, leaving Harry to wonder how Snape coped with all that noise – probably by the generous use of soundproofing charms.
He rang the door bell and stepped back, smoothing out the wrinkles in his robe. He rang again as nobody answered and then knocked for good measure.
"I'm not just going away, you know," he eventually called out. "You'll have to talk to me, I'm afraid."
The door was suddenly wrenched open. A furious Severus Snape emerged and grabbed Harry by the arm, dragging him inside and slamming the door shut behind them.
This isn't:
Harry contemplated the spot where Regulus had disappeared for a few more seconds before turning around and crossing the room to pick up his wand, wincing as he bent over. The spell the older wizard had used on his back had been a very rudimentary one, normally used for shallow cuts and bruises, to heal the daily scrapes a child might get into. The wounds Malfoy had inflicted on him were deep, however, and he'd lost blood as well. His head was pounding, his back was protesting against every single movement he made and his ribs felt sore where he'd been kicked. He was half-naked and he had the stinging aftertaste of vomit in his mouth. All in all, the situation could be better.
Harry pulled up his torn robe over his shoulders and buttoned it up as well as he could; the fabric scraped the tender flesh of his back and he hissed in pain. He could only hope that he'd be able to run on adrenaline until he'd obtained a Time Turner.
He took great care not to look at Draco's corpse as he left the room; the dead wizard's eyes were still staring at him, empty and accusing. Harry couldn't manage not to be relieved at his death – Draco would have killed him without mercy after growing bored of playing with him, Harry was sure of that. And he'd killed – actually killed Ron and Hermione in cold blood and torn his soul apart in the process. Harry himself had sworn to take revenge for those murders, that day at the library so long ago now. In the end the decision had been taken out of his hands and Draco had been killed by his own lover.
Harry stepped out of the room into the turning chamber and found it mercifully empty; the only movement here stemmed from the candles burning blue which flickered slightly as he came to stand in the middle of the chamber. The door he'd come from closed noiselessly and all the doors started to spin around him; Harry bit his lip as his head started swimming. He felt dizzy and stumbled, falling to the ground on his hands and knees.
When the doors stopped revolving he stoop up again laboriously, gripping his wand with both hands. He couldn't afford to lose any more time by trying out every single door in the chamber; and it was more than likely that Death Eaters were behind most of them, looking for him and the prophecy. It had been some time since he'd sent his Patronus to Severus – help in form of the Order would have to come soon or else he had no idea how to get out of here alive, not to forget Neville whom he'd left behind in the Hall of Prophecy.
He took a deep breath, steadying himself.
"Point Me!" he commanded, picturing the Time Room in his mind as clearly as he could. The wand in his hands quivered indecisively before coming to rest again.
"Point Me!" Harry repeated, putting more force behind the spell. He was misusing it, he knew. The spell had been designed to point north, not towards a specific object. One thing Harry had learned over the years, though, was that magic largely depended on the will of its user; it was shaped by a witch's or wizard's determination – and right now he was nothing but determined to find the Time Room as quickly as possible. He could feel the magic flowing from his fingers, infusing Severus' wand with energy. The slim rod of wood quivered again before being lifted into the air where it started rotating sluggishly, as if not being able to decide where it should point. Harry didn't leave it out of his sight; he focused on the wand and pushed. Some sort of resistance gave way then, because the wand spun around rapidly before coming to an abrupt halt, its tip pointing at a door to Harry's left.
He plucked the wand out of the air and spent a fleeting moment wishing for his invisibility cloak before pushing the door open. The Time Room stretched out before him, the neat rows of desks covered with clocks which filled the room with a relentless ticking sound. The case containing the Time Turners was located at the far end of the room, next to the door leading to the Hall of Prophecy.
He'd barely taken three steps into the room when a red streak of light sizzled above his head and hit the wall behind him in a shower of sparks and a loud bang. Harry hastily dived behind the nearest desk, and not a moment too early: The clocks standing on it exploded as he was covering his head with his hands, protecting his eyes and skin as well as he could from shards of glass and splinters of wood.
"Harry Potter!" a gleeful voice sang, "Come out, come out wherever you are!"
Harry started crawling towards another desk, cautiously peering around it to look down the aisle. Bellatrix Lestrange was standing in front of the door to the Hall of Prophecy, wand raised and mouth open in silent laughter. She was accompanied by three more Death Eaters who were all still wearing their masks, making it impossible for Harry to identify them.
"My master is here, Harry," Bellatrix called out, "He's coming to get what belongs to him. Give it to him and he might even kill you quickly!"
Harry didn't react to the witch's taunts, not willing to give away his location and needing to save his breath anyway. He could feel the beating of his heart in the throbbing of his back; and when he touched the fabric covering the skin there his hand came away wet and slightly red. Regulus' spell had worn off and his wounds had opened up again; his time was running out.
"Harry..." Bellatrix sighed, "Why won't you come out and play? Do I have to make you dance first?"
Her comment made Harry remember the last time he'd seen the witch dance – in the sitting room at Grimmauld Place, dragging Ginny's lifeless body around like a broken doll, mockingly tracing out the steps to a waltz. He knew that this Bellatrix had done no such thing; but he was also absolutely certain that she would, given half the chance. Harry's thoughts raced. He needed to get rid of the witch and her cronies; and although he'd bested her in a duel in his own world and then killed her, the situation then had been rather more to his advantage. He'd had his own wand, for one, and he hadn't been tortured shortly beforehand.
"Potter!" another Death Eater was calling out now, "We know you're here, so stop dossing around for fuck's sake!"
"Very eloquent," yet another Death Eater said scornfully. "Still, you get points for trying. Let's try my method, shall we? Reducto!"
The front row of tables was blasted apart and Harry frantically scrambled forward in the ensuing chaos of debris, towards the glass case and the Death Eaters. Every instinct in him screamed at him to turn back, to escape, to flee, but his future was contained in that case at the end of the room – he wasn't going to give up now.
"Reducto!"
Another row of desk was reduced to rubble; there were now five rows of tables separating Harry from his attackers and the only reason they hadn't spotted him yet was the fact that the whole room was filled with glittering, dense dust, the last remains of the destroyed clocks. Strangely enough the ticking throughout the room had not diminished; quite the opposite, really, because it was now echoing from everywhere, increasing in volume with each destroyed clock until Harry got the impression that every single speck of dust and every single piece of debris had become a tiny clock of its own, ticking away steadily.
"Reducto!"
Four rows, now.
"Reducto!"
Three.
Harry inhaled deeply, then sprang to his feet and cast a shielding charm.
"I'm here," he said calmly.
"Harry, my boy," Bellatrix said, "Give me the prophecy."
"It's been destroyed," Harry answered, "Its message is lost forever."
"Impossible!" the woman hissed. "That fool Dumbledore would never allow you to destroy so precious a thing. Where is it?"
"I'm telling you the truth. The glass orb was smashed by one of your own people. You can go and have a look if you want – it's in one of the rooms, together with Draco Malfoy's corpse."
"You're lying!" Bellatrix shrieked, "You filthy, lying halfblood! Crucio!"
Harry barely managed to dodge the curse by diving to the floor and scrambling back. His whole body protested against the jarring movements and he wasn't sure that he'd be able to stand up again as his vision blurred and swam.
"Crucio!"
This time Harry had nowhere left to run. He screamed in agony as the course hit him, setting every single nerve ending on fire. His world narrowed down to his body and the unrelenting pain coursing through it. He could taste blood in his mouth; he'd bitten on his tongue, hard enough to break the skin. He could barely hear himself screaming, sobbing, garbling nonsense, begging for the pain to stop – and still the ticking of the clocks resonated in his ears, a sound that would haunt him in his dreams for weeks to come. Bellatrix was laughing again, a sound of sheer happiness tinged with insanity.
"Expelliarmus!"
"Stupefy!"
And then it stopped.
Everything seemed to be reduced to slow motion as Bellatrix was disarmed and thrown backwards by the force of both spells. She crashed against the wall, lying still.
Harry knew that he needed to get up, needed to stand up and fight against the remaining Death Eaters; but at the same time he was aware that right now he couldn't stand up if his life depended on it.
"Harry! Oh, sweet Merlin, Harry!"
Somebody – a woman – was sobbing, crying out and Harry recognised the voice as belonging to his mother.
"Lily, for heaven's sake – Expelliarmus! Petrificus totalus!"
That was Sirius, his booming voice drowning out the ticking of the clocks.
"Crucio!"
"Avada Kedavra!"
The Death Eaters were fighting back. Harry heard them shouting out curses and a nauseating green light filled the room, the traces of Killing Curses that had missed their intended targets.
"Incendio! Stupefy!"
He lost track of how much time passed as his mother and Sirius fought against Voldemort's followers. He was trying to sit up, leaning against the leg of a desk for support. Finally pulling himself into a more or less upright position he saw that two other Death Eaters had gone down, both tightly bound by magical ropes. The last one, however, was still standing in front of the great glass case. His black robes were torn and his previously white mask smeared with blood; but still he stood tall and unbowed.
"Right," Sirius snarled, "Let's get this over with. Lily?"
"I'm here."
"Expelliarmus!"
"Reducto!"
The combined power of the two spells broke through the Death Eater's protective shield. Harry could only watch in horror as he was struck square in the chest and went flying into the air, backwards and directly into the case containing the Time Turners.
"NO!"
He didn't realise that it was him who had screamed; it had been the howl of an anguished animal, shrill and utterly helpless.
The glass broke easily under the wizard's weight. The Time Turners did as well, crashing to the floor one by one and shattering like dropped icicles.
"No..."
"Harry!"
His mother dropped down on her knees beside him and cradled his face in her hands..
"Oh, Harry, my Harry, you're alive. You're safe..."
Sirius came to stand next to them.
"They're all stupefied to within and inch of their lives. Let the Ministry deal with them. Can you stand, Harry?"
But the shock of what had happened was now fully catching up with him and Harry started crying hysterically, the falling tears mixing with the blood already smeared around his mouth and chin.
"The Time Turners... Sweet Merlin, the Time Turners," he moaned.
"Harry, you have to calm down," Sirius said.
"Leave him alone!" Lily snapped protectively and then wiped the tears from his cheeks with her thumbs, peering at him out of eyes that were identical to his own.
"Sweetheart," she whispered, "Sirius is right. We have to go now."
"But... The Time Turners!" Harry sniffed and if he'd been in his right mind he would have been appalled at the pitiful creature he was at that moment.
"They're all broken. I'm sorry. But Harry, we don't have time for this. Can you stand up?"
"I think so. I... I..." Harry managed to calm himself and grasp Sirius' hands which pulled him upwards.
"Harry!" Lily exclaimed as she caught sight of his mangled back. "What happened?"
"Draco Malfoy happened," he replied, " 'S what he does to cocksucking nancy-boys like me."
"I'm going to kill him," Sirius said immediately, fury colouring his voice.
"No need." Harry coughed and spat out a mouthful of blood. His mother carefully put an arm around his waist, supporting him. "Your brother beat you to that I'm afraid."
"Regulus? Where is he?"
"Hiding. He had to... hide. He's sure Vodemort... knows." Speaking had become difficult for Harry: Between his sore throat, the swollen tongue, cracked lips and the metallic taste in his mouth it was a kind of miracle that he was still able to form words at all.
"We have to go," Lily said, "We don't know if there's not more of them in the vicinity."
"What about Neville?" Harry wheezed. "He's... I left him in the Hall of Prophecy."
"We don't have time -"
"I can't just leave him there! I petrified him and – and..."
"You two go on," Sirius said, "I'm going to check the Hall. Don't wait for me, d'you hear me? Harry needs medical attention as quickly as possible."
"All right," Lily said, but Sirius grabbed her arm.
"I mean it, Lily," he said, "No heroics."
"Yes, I understand!" the witch replied impatiently. "We'll see you in Godric's Hollow. Take care."
"Take care, love. And keep my godson in one piece."
Sirius took off, jumping over shards of glass and disappearing through the door at the end of the room. Lily looked after him with concern etched on her pale face, but then she resolutely turned to Harry and gave him an encouraging smile that barely wavered.
"Come on, then. No use standing about and I expect Severus will be frantic with worry by now."
"Where is he?" Harry asked.
"Hopefully still waiting for us in the revolving room. He called the whole Order, did you know? Every single member with one wandless Patronus, I've never seen anything like it. He told me you had his wand; Harry, sweetheart, what happened to yours?"
"It's a long story," Harry hedged. It was clear that Lily wasn't satisfied with that answer but she let the issue rest for the moment.
"Anyway, he couldn't fight, not without a wand – and what a ridiculous concept that is, a wandless wizard! - so we gave him one of the invisibility cloaks. He refused to stay behind."
Lily opened the door for them and Harry had barely stepped through when he was embraced by a pair of strong arms. In other circumstances he might have enjoyed the caress; but now he cried out in pain. Severus let go of him immediately and pulled the invisibility cloak off his head.
"Harry," he murmured, "What happened?"
"Later. We'll explain everything later, Severus," Lily said briskly. "We have to get out of here. Where are the others?"
"Fighting Voldemort's loyal followers," the wizard replied, starting to drape the cloak around Harry. The added weight of the cloak was too much to bear however because it added pressure to his wounds. Harry grit his teeth and shook his head, pushing away Severus' hands. "The whole Department of Mysteries has become a battle ground."
"Regulus..." Harry breathed. Wherever the other wizard was right now, he hoped that he'd made it to safety, somewhere deep in the Department where nobody would be able to find him.
"Let's go," Lily said, "For heaven's sake, let's go before Voldemort himself arrives!"
It took the three of them a long time to make their way to the lift and to the lobby of the Ministry. Harry wouldn't wear the invisibility cloak to hide him; and a Disillusionment Charm wasn't an option either as the magic settled into Harry's raw skin and irritated the tender flesh even more. He'd nearly fainted when Lily had tried and from then on she'd become nearly mindless with worry, her only goal to bring him to safety as quickly as possible.
Signs of battle greeted them in the corridor leading to the lift; an abandoned Death Eater mask, gleaming in an unnaturally white colour was lying in a corner. Scorch marks adorned the walls and the lift door; there were drops of blood on the floor.
"Wizards drawing each other's blood," Severus said as he glimpsed those. "This means we truly are at war."
The lift ascended in a torturously slow journey. As they arrived at their destination a vision of hell greeted them: The lobby was a picture of destruction, the huge welcome desk slowly burning to a cinder. The Fountain of Magical Brethren had literally been blown apart, the golden statues lying on the ground, half-molten. Water was leaking all over the floor. In front of the Fountain stood Lord Voldemort, wand pointed straight at a cowering Neville who was clutching his father's lifeless body in his arms.
Lily jerked back Harry instinctively, shielding him from view; but their entrance hadn't escaped from Voldemort's notice.
"Welcome!" he called out mockingly, his eyes never leaving the young wizard in front of him.
"We've got guests, Neville! Or witnesses, if you will." A cruel smile formed on his lips. "The mudblood and her Quidditch-playing offspring! Not to forget dear Severus Snape who has evaded me for far too long. Shall we give them a spectacle, Neville?"
Neville didn't answer. He didn't even seem to notice that anybody was in the room with him. Loud sobs were wracking his body as he rocked his father's corpse in his arms.
"Answer me, boy!" Voldemort ordered.
"Harry, stay back," Lily hissed desperately. He didn't listen, instead freeing himself from his mother's grasp and taking some steps further into the lobby, his eyes fixed on the boy who lived. Severus reached out to grasp his shoulder but he shrugged off the hand impatiently. Every trace of pain and exhaustion was gone, replaced by adrenaline and fear running through his veins.
"Dumbledore," he whispered, "We need Dumbledore. Where is he?"
"This is not the time -"
"Where is he?"
"Albania," Lily answered, "I'm sorry, it was impossible to reach him."
"That's not good."
"No, it's not," Severus agreed caustically. "Listen, we can Apparate from here -"
"And leave Neville to his fate?"
"Neville is the boy who lived, it literally is his fate to fight Voldemort."
"I'm the bloody boy who lived as well," Harry hissed, "So I suppose the same thing goes for me."
"Harry, what -"
"Silence!" Voldemort roared suddenly and then smiled as Lily clapped her hand over her mouth. "Much better. Now, what say you to watching us duel? They boy who lived and the wizard he's supposed to defeat. Pick up your wand, boy!"
Neville looked at him, tears streaming down his face and shook his head. "You killed him," he said in a choked voice, "You – you killed my father!"
"I couldn't very well let you escape, could I? And really, it was quite brave of Frank to come back for you. But he could be spared. You, on the other hand, still need to tell me where my prophecy is."
"It's destroyed," Harry called out. "It's gone."
"I don't recall asking you!" Voldemort hissed and flicked his wand. A streak of light came shooting towards Harry and was stopped at the last moment by a huge, silvery dragon who opened his mouth and roared noiselessly, swallowing the curse. It was a Patronus, he realised. Turning around he saw Severus with outstretched arms, silver streams flowing from his hands and a look of absolute concentration on his face.
"Impressive," the dark wizard sneered, "Very impressive. But now, back to you -" he turned towards Neville, "Pick up your wand."
"No."
Seeing the thin piece of wood lying a few feet away from Neville, Harry was shocked to recognise it: It was his own wand. His wand. Eleven inches, holly and phoenix feather. And he knew what happened when this particular was used to fight against Voldemort...
"Neville, pick up the wand, pick up your fucking wand!" he yelled.
But the other wizard seemed to have gone into shock: He just kept on rocking the body in his arms and pressed a kiss on top into his father's hair.
"Neville!" Panic began to overtake Harry. Apparently Voldemort was tired of playing with his prey as well because he was now raising his wand and smiling.
"Going down without a fight," he mocked. "Oh dear. What would your father say?"
That got a reaction out of the young man. He looked up at spat, "Don't you dare mention my father! He doesn't... He doesn't..."
"For fuck's sake, pick up your bloody wand and fight!" Harry hissed, crossing the room in long strides and wrenching the wizard away from his father's corpse. He could hear Lily crying out and Severus trying to calm her down, but right now nothing else mattered but Voldemort's presence.
"I... I can't, Harry," Neville said helplessly, "Oh Merlin, I'm so scared... I'm so scared!"
"Where is that Gryffindor bravery?" Voldemort taunted. "Too scared to look your fate in the eye, are you?"
"I'll give you Gryffindor bravery!" Harry said hotly and stretched out his right hand.
"Accio!" he commanded and Neville's wand came flying into his hand. A feeling of warmth enveloped Harry; golden and red sparks shot from its tip and suddenly he felt energised again, his body thrumming with power.
"Come on!" he called to Voldemort, "Let's duel."
Voldemort's face twisted into a grotesque mask of hatred and anger. He didn't hesitate in pointing his wand at Harry's heart, exclaiming, "Avada Kedavra!"
"Expelliarmus!"
Harry knew what would happen now; but it still came as a shock to him when the green beam of the Killing Curse and the red one of his own spell connected and became one, a rich golden beam that connected their wands. Harry and Voldemort were levitated into the air; and because Harry had done this before, had done this even when he'd been younger and with less focused will power it was almost easy to force his spell out of his wand and down the beam connecting it to Voldemort's own wand. The phoenix song was almost drowned out by the blood rushing in his ears and Voldemort's enraged screams – and then Frank Longbottom appeared next to Harry.
"Take care of my boy," he whispered.
Harry nodded and tightened the grip on his wand. The last time he'd done this he himself had broken the connection. He'd escaped back to Hogwarts, leaving Voldemort and his Death Eaters behind in the graveyard of Little Hangleton. This time was different: He needed to distract the other wizard long enough to allow the others to escape. He wanted them safe, his mother, Neville and Severus.
Severus above all, who'd risked everything for him.
"Go!" he shouted, the golden threads making up the dome around him and Voldemort still multiplying, weaving an ever denser net. "Go! Take Neville and go!"
He couldn't see them anymore, couldn't hear whether they answered him or not. Harry closed his eyes and concentrated on the connection between him and the dark wizard, using Legilimency to push against his mind and finding it wide open. The Priori Incantatem around them accelerated as more and more people began to appear next to Frank Longbottom. They all formed a circle around Voldemort and Harry used the wizard's distraction to enter his mind.
Legilimency was not a weapon; but it could be used as such if the wizard or witch was determined enough. Some weeks ago Harry had simply torn through Severus' mind on his quest to find answers, hurting him considerably in the process. Now he wasn't even interested in Voldemort's mind; all he did was to pour his own, raw power into it, ripping through his last shreds of sanity and leaving his own magical trace on everything. Harry was not hateful towards him, though. Hate was an emotion Voldemort could understand and use for his own ends. No, what Harry did was to pour love into Voldemort's mind.
Every memory of Ron and Hermione he had, every sigh and whisper Ginny had uttered during their one day together; memories of looking at pictures of his parents and having dinner with Sirius and Remus; Albus Dumbledore sucking on a sweet, Hagrid presenting him with Hedwig on this 11th birthday; and Severus, pressing a relieved kiss against his lips after they'd been saved from Dementors.
Voldemort let out a loud, bloodcurdling scream; then he broke the connection and Apparated away in a flurry of black robes.
The ghosts in the lobby disappeared; so did the golden dome. In the sudden silence of the room and of his mind Harry crashed to the floor, letting Neville's wand fall from numb fingers as he fainted for the second time that night.