Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter.
Chapter Four
A Future Lost
"Then we agree on this. All Order members working at the Ministry will take shifts guarding the entrance to the Department of Mysteries."
The dismissal was clear in his voice and most Order members were eager to leave the depressing Headquarters of the Order of Phoenix behind. Grimmauld Place really was rather gloomy but the wards were simply outstanding.
Sitting comfortably at the dining table a mischievous smile played on his lips as he imagined the reactions earlier Black generations would have to seeing him here. The portrait of Sirius' mother was probably tame in comparison.
He was about to get up and leave when he realized that he was not the only person still seated. Sirius Black, Molly Weasley and Severus Snape had not moved either.
Pushing his fatigue aside Albus raised a single eyebrow questioningly at this unusual assembly.
"Do you wish to discuss anything else?"
All three of them nodded. Sirius was the first to speak.
"I think I will be done the quickest. I only wanted to inform you that Harry and I will be visiting Lily's and James' grave some time soon, probably tomorrow."
Albus easily hid the smile that wanted to quirk the corners of his lips as he saw the silent challenge in Sirius' eyes, daring him to make an objection.
"I can take it that you will make sure to be appropriately disguised?"
"Of course."
Molly looked at Sirius hesitantly. "I want to talk about Harry."
Sirius eyes snapped to her. "What about Harry?"
Severus, Albus noticed, was a bit curious too, but so was he.
Harry Potter was of interest to him for a reason. The prophecy that guided Neville Longbottom's path could have easily applied to Harry instead. In all honesty, he had actually expected Tom to choose Harry, not Neville.
The Potters had been magically stronger and more dangerous in a fight than Neville's parents. James had had a ruthless, sometimes even cruel side to him that the gentle Frank definitely lacked, and Lily with her intellect, stubbornness and unforgiving nature was also not to be underestimated.
Furthermore, Harry was a halfblood, like Tom, and Dumbledore had thought that, for someone as obsessed with blood as Tom, this would factor in as well.
But in the end, Tom went after Neville, making him their child saviour in the process.
Molly sighed deeply before straightening her back, visibly pulling herself together.
"I am a bit worried about his attitude. He called Hermione a - a mudblood…"
"He what?" Sirius stared at her wide-eyed, probably hoping he had misheard. Albus felt a bit uncomfortable himself. This foul name was normally used by people with a mentality he did not encourage in the least.
"He called her a mudblood." Molly repeated, this time looking straight at Sirius.
"When? Why? Was he serious? Or maybe it was just well… a really bad joke?"
"I wasn't there when he said it." Molly's eyes were cast down. "I just overheard Ron telling Ginny about it."
"You just overheard? Well maybe it's not even true then." The stubborn expression on Sirius' face made pretty clear that he would not accept hearsay on that matter.
Molly obviously agreed with Albus' silent assessment, as she did not argue Sirius' point. Severus of course did not show so much restraint.
"As the person who knows him best here-" he sneered at Sirius "-I really can't say this would surprise me."
"Oh, and why is that, Snivellus?" Being the bigger man for once – or maybe just eager to defame Harry – Severus continued unperturbed and more gleeful than was appropriate.
"For one, he is completely accepted in Slytherin. Which leads me to believe that he doesn't disagree with them on something as basic as their opinion on muggles. Furthermore his best friend is Theodore Nott and he even gets along reasonably well with Draco Malfoy… I think all of that speaks for itself."
Sirius gritted his teeth. "That he is friends with Nott doesn't have to mean anything. I am a Black and was best friends with a Potter too."
Molly intervened before the Potions Master could rebut.
"That's not even the real problem. What's really concerning me is his interest in Dark Magic. Hermione saw him - more than once - with a book he should never have touched and-" Sirius made to interrupt her, but Molly silenced him with a look. "-and I had that suspicion as well, even before Hermione came to me. He always hides the book he is reading whenever I enter his room or the library… and he never, and I really mean never, leaves any of his reading lying around. No teenage boy is so tidy! Not if he doesn't have anything to hide!"
Sirius seemed to be torn between defending his godson and feeling concerned. Severus face was completely blank.
"Are you sure my dear?" Albus prodded.
"Well, I never caught him in the act. He is too careful for that. But he is definitely hiding something. I know the signs. You don't raise seven children without developing an eye for things like that."
They sat in silence. Severus content to let the other two continue the conversation, Albus deep in thought.
Had he made a mistake by allowing the boy to come here? Was he already on his way to become a Dark wizard?
He immediately felt a bit silly for jumping to that conclusion so fast… but on the other hand, hadn't Gellert and Tom started out similarly? More powerful than you average wizard, more intelligent, more driven… But both of them had also harboured a deep-seated hatred, both had felt the need to prove themselves, to change the society they thought had wronged them…
Did this apply to Harry as well? Or was he just a curious boy testing his limits? Albus would be the first to admit that he was a bit paranoid when it came to powerful young man showing interest in the Dark Arts… but who could blame him?
He sighed deeply. Whenever he thought about Harry – which admittedly didn't happen very often – he always imagined the boy standing next to Neville. Of course at school the confines of their houses limited their interaction, but once they left it… Albus planned on telling Harry about the prophecy, about what could have been… He already imagined them standing side-by-side. Gryffindor and Slytherin. Neville's brash courage supported and guided by Harry's cunning mind.
Ashamed Albus realized that he had lost the real Harry out of sight. He had intended to keep an eye on both prophecy children, but Neville's adventures and Voldemort's reappearances had kept him constantly busy. And now things were not exactly getting easier.
"Do you have something to add Severus? Has he shown an unnatural interest in the Dark Arts before?" Albus asked pretending not to notice Severus sour expression.
He knew how much the Head of Slytherin hated to be questioned on the activities of his students, but he would part with the information anyway.
"It might be surprising to you, but I do not, in fact, follow Potter around at every hour." He replied silkily, still scowling. "Nor do I spare him any special attention. So I do not know what book he reads at night before he goes to sleep."
"Sniv-" Sirius began, but thankfully closed his mouth when Albus raised his hand.
Severus continued unperturbed. "So if you expect me to deliver any details on his state of knowledge in the Dark Arts, you will be disappointed. I know however, that he, like many other students, from time to time experiments with one or another dark spell and has done so ever since his third year."
Molly opened and closed her mouth a few times before she found her voice again.
"You knew that that boy practices Dark Magic and didn't warn us? I want him gone. I don't want a Dark wizard in training around my children, especially Ginny. She's infatuated with him. Merlin knows what she will do to impress him. I won't have my daughter become addicted to Dark Magic because of that boy!"
Severus' and Sirius' snorted simultaneously – probably a first.
"What?" Molly bit out, alternately glaring at either man.
"Oh nothing. Your lack of knowledge just astounds me once again." Severus drawled lazily.
"What Snivellus here wants to say-" Sirius continued. "-is that you don't get addicted to Dark Magic by casting a few Dark curses. Or both of us and probably most Aurors would have that problem as well. So I don't think your daughter is in any danger. I don't really see any of your children delving into the Dark Arts deep enough to get lost."
"Well no… of course they wouldn't do that!" Molly replied, a bit calmer, but still visibly agitated. "But that doesn't change that he is a bad influence. I don't want them getting anywhere near Dark Magic, addiction or not."
"I won't make my godson leave because of your suspicions Molly." There was a steely note in Sirius voice. "And if it turns out that you are right then it's even more important that he stays. I won't tell him to leave only for him to run to that Nott boy and have his Death Eater father encourage his interest further. He's James' son, he's my godson, he stays."
Pleased with the current outcome of the conversation, Albus decided to end it here. Kicking the boy out would only result in alienating him and separating Harry and Sirius before they even got to know each other properly would be unnecessary cruel.
"Yes, he should stay. I'd like to think that the positive influence he is exposed to here is greater than his alleged negative one. And Molly, you must not forget that Harry is an orphan. He lost his parents in the most horrible way and never got the chance to grow up in a loving family like yours. You can't expect him to act like your children."
Albus got up and left the kitchen, Severus walking beside him. With a resigned nod he acknowledged the Potion Master's presence. It seemed as though his long day was not yet ready to come to an end.
…
Incantation: ferve
Effect: makes any liquid simmer in a matter of seconds
History: presumably invented at the beginning of the 15th century in Ireland by housewife Anne-Mary Sullivan as a means to bring water to a boil without using fire. The spell soon gained popularity, as its ability to make liquids boil was not limited to water alone.
Dark Wizards discovered that with the right amount of concentration and intent, the spell could overcome the natural protective function of skin and make the blood inside a living organism seethe.
The Wizard's Council reclassified the former spell as a Dark Magic curse. Its mundane areas of usage were soon forgotten. Nowadays it is commonly known as the blood-boiling-curse and its use heavily frowned upon.
Harry stared at the drawing underneath the text, a man writhing in pain, his mouth wide-open, eyes bulging out.
With the Black library at his disposal he'd realized quickly that Dark Curses made up only one part of the Dark Arts.
Dark Potions and Dark Rituals were equally important, but most of the time so complicated and complex that Harry had decided to keep his hands off them for the time being. He had no interested in accidentally disintegrating his own body in a bodged up ritual because of a mistake caused by his still lacking knowledge in runes or some such thing.
The decision to concentrate on curses for the time being had been easy – finding said curses though turned out to be the opposite.
The problem of course wasn't that the Black library was lacking books on the subject, it was more that there were simply too many of them, and Harry had no idea where to start looking.
The titles gave away hardly anything besides the information that it was a book on Dark Magic. And sometimes not even that. The book he was reading at the moment was simply entitled "Incantamenta". No indication of its dark content anywhere.
It was a very thin, black, old looking book and Harry had only taken a look at it after it had fallen out of a top shelf and smacked him on the head. He had the suspicion that either the book itself or the creepy house-elf, that had taken up the hobby of stalking him, had helped matters in that regard.
Harry didn't dwell on the how too long though, and was simply glad that he'd finally found a useful book.
Most of the others he'd flipped through so far only held a handful of useful curses hidden between lots of useless spells and boring history lessons.
He'd taken up the habit of writing all of the good ones down in a journal and had decided to wait with practicing them until he returned to Hogwarts. With Molly Weasley snooping around him, trying them out here was just too risky.
Soft steps outside in the hallway warned him that someone was approaching his or Sirius' room and he quickly slid the Dark Arts book beneath his pillow. It was not a second too early: As soon as he was comfortably lying on his bed once more the door opened and Sirius stepped inside. Without knocking.
Harry raised an eyebrow at his godfather. Had knocking gone out of fashion recently or was his godfather now suspicious of him as well?
"Civilized people knock, you know?"
Sirius only grinned. "Yeah well… I'm a convicted murderer; my reputation won't go down the drain if I forget knocking from time to time. Got a moment?"
Damn. Not the answer he'd hoped for. So Mrs Weasley had blabbed to Sirius. Probably painting him as some evil devil's worshipper or something, if the glare she shot his way from time to time was anything to go by.
That meant he would've to be even more careful in the future. He'd already delayed most of his Dark Arts study sessions to hours were Mrs Weasley was either out of the house or asleep. Factoring in his godfather as well would only leave the night to do some serious reading.
Annoyed he glared at Sirius – just to make sure the man understood that this behaviour was not appreciated – and rolled to the left side of his bed to make room for him.
Sirius sat down and inspected the book lying in front of Harry with unnatural interest.
"So… what're'ya reading?"
"Uhm… nothing too exciting…" Harry glanced down at the open page as inconspicuously as possible. He didn't even know which book he had lying around this time.
"Just…" He squeezed his eyes, trying to make out the words. "Uhm... something for Potions…." Merlin, could the letters be even smaller? Finally he managed to make out a key word. "About the dreamless sleep potion to be exact."
"Oh. Do you have nightmares?" Sirius asked. Harry wasn't sure if it was concern or mistrust that made him ask further questions.
"No, no!" Harry reassured him quickly. "I'm just reading up on Potions from time to time. You know, Snape hates my guts so I've got to be well prepared for his lessons."
"I can imagine. Snivellus as a teacher. I still can't believe Dumbledore gave him the job…" Sirius sounded mildly disgusted and nodded in understanding, obviously satisfied with Harry's answer.
"Anyway." Sirius continued. "I just came by to ask you if you wanted to go to Godric's Hollow tomorrow?"
Harry sat up straight. "Of course! So you finally got around to asking Dumbledore?"
"Yes, well, it was more telling him than asking. But if something happens… If I'm caught… Not that it's likely…" A shudder ran through Sirius body. "But if, then I'd prefer Dumbledore to intervene before I'm kissed."
…
When Harry woke up the next morning it was still dark outside. He tried to fall asleep again but the prospect of visiting his parents' grave made him nervous and fidgety. He read a few pages of "Incantamenta" but his restlessness soon drove him out of his room and down to the kitchen.
It was Sunday and Molly Weasley was bustling about the kitchen apparently preparing a full English breakfast for all residents.
Should he offer to help her? After all the practice he got at the Dursleys, he fancied himself to be a quite acceptable cook.
Yes, he was still miffed that she had alarmed Sirius with her stupid suspicions, but maybe this was a good way to redeem him a bit in her eyes…
"I can take care of the scrambled eggs and sausages." He said while stepping towards the oven.
She looked at him surprised. "You can cook?"
"Yep. How many eggs?"
"Just take all of them." She seemed a bit confused. This new side of him probably didn't fit in with her image of the evil Dark Magic practicing Slytherin.
In an effort to throw her even more he started to hum a happy tune while cracking the eggs directly into the pan.
She continued staring at him while he went on to fry the sausages with practiced ease.
For a few minutes nothing but his probably pretty off tune humming broke the silence in the kitchen.
"Where did you learn to cook like that?" She asked, still a bit wide-eyed. "If I'd ever let Ronald or one of my other boys into the kitchen we'd either end up with a burned down house or food poisoning." She laughed nervously at the idea.
"My relatives had me prepare breakfast."
Molly nodded. "Ah, of course. It really is important for children to help with the housework. Helps them to grow into responsible adults, my mother used to say. Though we have so much work to do around the house and in the garden that the kitchen is left to me…" She trailed off, distracted by smoking bred loafs.
Shared housework to help him grow into a responsible adult. Yes. That's exactly what Petunia had had in mind. Harry snorted disdainfully.
He continued cooking while listening to her blabber on about her children and family life.
When he sat down at the full breakfast table half an hour later he knew that Ron was so afraid of spiders he refused to enter the garden shed, that the garden gnomes always stole half of her tomatoes no matter how many they caught, that Ginny liked to cook but hadn't inherited Molly's talent…
In short he knew a lot of details about the Weasley family he didn't care about in the least. But if listening to her chatter would better her impression of him and hopefully keep her off his case at least for some time, then it was definitely worth it.
After breakfast he went directly to the library, as usual. The other teenagers still kept away from him and of the adults he only liked Sirius. He supposed Professor Lupin was okay too, but it irked him the wrong way that this former best friend of his parents had never bothered to contact him before his short teaching stint.
"An early version of the Runic Alphabet we know and use today was found carved in stone in an underwater cave in the Bay of Fundy. This leads us to believe that a group of early settlers of Nova Scotia originated from the British Isles. Researchers date…"
Boooring.
Harry shut the book with a thud and put it on top of the large stack of discarded books next to the upholstered chair he was lounging in sideways, feet lazily resting on one arm of the chair. He yearned to be back in his room and do some useful reading…
"Potter?"
His head swiveled around and to his surprise he saw Granger standing not far from him, wringing her hands, looking extremely uncomfortable.
"Yes?" He asked, his tone friendlier than usual. He would never admit it, but he was a tiny bit thankful for the distraction.
Granger seemed encouraged by the lack of his usual hostility.
"I thought about what you said."
He raised an eyebrow.
"I mean what you said about the wizarding culture. How it's different from the muggle one. And how I don't know anything about it."
Wow. He really hadn't seen that one coming. Maybe Granger was not as close-minded as her two companions?
"And?" He prodded. Better not praise the day before nightfall.
"And I've come to the conclusion that you had a point. Not in calling me that filthy word, mind you." She shot him quick but icy glare. "But I could have tried to find out more about the differences in our cultures. Just with us celebrating Christmas at Hogwarts and everything… I honestly never thought that there could be something else as well…"
Yep. He definitely hadn't expected that. "And what do you want from me now?"
"Well, you were raised in the muggle world as well."
Harry suppressed a scowl and simply nodded.
"And you obviously learned about the differences somewhere. I've been looking for books on it all over the Black library, but in all of them the authors just assume that the reader already has the right background knowledge and directly start with specific ceremonial rituals and things like that. But I want to start at the beginning. I want to know the history behind it… And I thought that maybe you could point me some good books? You must have learned about it from somewhere after all..."
All of that came out in one big barrage of words and it took Harry a second to process the information. It sounded a bit like a prepared speech and for some reason he could imagine her walking back and forth in her room rehearsing different version of it until she was satisfied.
When he didn't answer immediately she opened her mouth again, probably about to let another speech lose.
"Relax Granger. If you give me some time I'll write you a list with the best titles. "ABC of the Magical Culture" is a good choice to start with. I think it was written by either a halfblood or even muggleborn in the early 1920s. It simplifies a lot of things – it reads a bit like a children's book to be honest – but it gives you a nice overview. Hogwarts doesn't have it but you can order it at Flourish & Blotts."
"Thanks." She smiled at him briefly. "The list would be nice too. I'll leave you to your reading then…"
Harry stared after her disappearing form still a bit startled. Though maybe it shouldn't surprise him that much. She was known for her bookwormish, know-it-all nature, even in Slytherin. It was highly likely that she wasn't interested in the wizarding culture for the sake of it, but rather couldn't stand the idea of not knowing something.
…
That evening Harry left Grimmauld Place with a big black dog in tow. They took the Knight Bus to Godric's Hollow and soon stood in front of a high, iron wrought gate that marked the entrance to the graveyard.
The oppressive heat of the day still lingered in the air. Harry pressed his sweaty palms against each other. He hated this sticky feeling and knew that it would not take long until it spread all over his body, crept underneath his clothes and made them damp and clingy.
Sweating was just something so… disgustingly muggle. Wizards don't sweat. Wizards apply cooling charms.
His hand subconsciously felt for his wand – it did this from time to time ever since his run in with the boggart, just to make sure that it was still whole and here. His searching finger soon met the long, thin wood. Yep. Still here. Still a wizard. A small smile – as unwitting as the preceding action – spread across his lips.
Beyond the gate he could make out countless rows of gravestones. Suddenly he became aware that he had never been to a graveyard before.
Harry put his hand on the gate handle. Push it down. Not difficult at all. Just push it down.
He turned around to make sure that Sirius was still willing to accompany him. The dog returned his gaze and nodded. It was only a small movement, one that unwitting passers-by probably wouldn't even notice, but it gave Harry the reassurance he needed.
For a short moment he wanted to bend down and bury his hand in Sirius' shaggy fur. To give Sirius and himself comfort before they crossed the last threshold that separated them from the evidence of his parents' death. But he didn't do it, couldn't do it, and just went forth through the gate without another look back.
The sun was already setting down, the last lingering threads of light bathing the graves and surrounding trees in warm orange.
Harry didn't know where is parents' grave was located, but it seemed as though Sirius had a rough idea, so Harry followed the large dog through rows and rows of similar looking tombstones. Was this what awaited one after death? Loss of identity, anonymity… forgotten in the mass… Well, the dead probably didn't care either way.
Sirius stopped abruptly.
In Loving Memory
of
Lily Potter – James Potter
That was it. He was here. Harry stared at his parents' grave. The grave of Lily and James, mum and dad. Had he ever learned to speak these words, before their death? Harry didn't know.
At his feet, Sirius whined and Harry's heart jumped a bit. He hadn't known that animal sounds could be so racked with pain. Sirius' whole body trembled, his ribcage lifted and lowered in an unsteady rhythm, but Harry didn't see any tears. Could dogs even cry tears?
Harry sat down and put one arm around Sirius' shaking body. Sirius looked at him, probably to convey his gratitude, but all Harry could make out in those dark grey eyes was a world of pain, loneliness and desperation.
On one hand, Harry wished he could help Sirius' and free him of these horrible feelings, but on the other hand he realized ashamed that he was jealous of his godfather. Jealous of the deep emotions Sirius felt just when looking at Harry's parents' grave. Was it not his right as a son to suffer the most from their death? Shouldn't it be he who was filled with desperation so deep he needed somebody else to hold on to?
Silent tears ran down Harry's face, but not even they could belie the knowledge that the deep emotions Harry had expected failed to appear.
Yes he was sad, very sad, so sad, that he couldn't hold back the tears he had not allowed to flow ever since he was small child, longer. But he was not really grieving for his parents. He didn't know Lily and James, never really had and never would.
The tombstone he sat in front of made that more than clear. No, he grieved for the life he had lost with them. For his uncomplicated and happy childhood. For his carefree youth. For the feeling of being loved unconditionally.
Sirius' put his heavy dog-head in Harry's lap and Harry ruffled the fur between his ears absentmindedly.
He looked back at the tombstone, this time to take a better look at it. It was made of white marble. A bit smaller than the surrounding ones, but in Harry's eyes this divergence in a mass of uniformity only made it something better, special.
Besides his parents' names and their dates of birth and death, only one more sentence was written onto the tombstone.
The last enemy that shall be destroyed his death.
He stared at the sentence for a few minutes. What was it doing on a tombstone? In a graveyard? In a field of soulless, decaying human shells where everybody had lost the last fight against death already? Was this sentence here to mock them, to make them aware of their powerlessness in face of death? Or was there a deeper meaning to it Harry did not understand? Death could not be destroyed, could it?
As the fiery red sun disappeared behind the cemetery wall to make way for the slowly descending darkness of the night, two silent figures remained, one caught in memories of a better past, the other deep in thought, staring the remnants of a future lost.
Chapter Four... I hope you liked it.
Aaaaanyway: Please leave your thoughts in a review.
If you got the time you could even tell me what you liked and disliked. What captured your attention and what you wished I had written differently or made more interesting.
A big thank you to everybody who took a moment and left a review the last time!
