Author's Note: This is another short chapter, but it's an important one for Alana's character development. It's not often that I got to paint her purely in a sympathetic, heroic light, where she got to be the good guy. This is one of those times. So for that reason alone, I hope you enjoy this chapter. I won't even mention the guilt trip I'm about to put Harry through. :) Enjoy!

Disclaimer: Like I said earlier in the story, I know that the Killing Curse kills people. Hence its name of Killing Curse. But I promise there's a good reason why I broke canon, one which I will explain shortly.

January 02, 2019

Harry settled into his armchair with a contented sigh. He was home once again, back at his beloved Hogwarts, for the start of a new semester, a new year, and a new chapter of Alana's journal.

He went through his day, his mind almost constantly on her- memories from their school days, curiosity about what he'd read next, wondering what she was doing now. He had to laugh at himself- he hadn't behaved like this since he and Alana had been engaged.

He was pleasantly surprised to find that his memories of her were not accompanied by the bitter anger, as they once ahd been. He was free to simply remember, and it was with that attitude that he picked up the journal to read that night.

I had been back in the Dark Lord's service for only three weeks when I was ordered to attend a private audience with him. Had I been anyone else, his summons would have terrified me-- Voldemort had been known to kill people in those private meetings.

But I knew I would be safe. Voldemort needed me too much to kill me. Yet.

"The rebellion must be destroyed, Alana," he told me as he led me through the dungeons.

"I thought you'd eradicated the threats, my lord," I told him, trying my best to look and sound innocent.

Voldemort turned and stared at me for the longest time, an unreadable expression on his face. It was one of the most frightening moments of my life; having no idea of what was going on, what was expected of me-- I was terrifed.

"No, Alana," he said softly. "The rebellions will never be done, I think, until I can destroy my final enemy."

With that, he pulled on a wall sconce that acted as a trigger to open a door to a secret passageway.

It was then that Voldemort revealed to me his darkest secret, his biggest failure… and my greatest and brightest triumph.

August 15, 2013

Voldemort showed Alana into the secret hall, then stepped ahead to mutter the spell to open the lone door. He then stepped back, motioning for his protégé to proceed.

She stepped through the low door cautiously, pausing to let her eyes adjust to the gloom. She stiffened upon hearing something move in the corner; a stifled groan, someone shifting their weight. She walked forward cautiously, almost choking on air that had grown thick with anticipation.

Then her entire world shattered and rearranged.

"Harry," she breathed.

He was half-starved, and filthy, his robs nothing but rags. More animal than man. But there was no mistaking the emerald eyes that now sparkled with anger and hatred.

It was Harry. He was alive.

But how?

Alana had been there the night Voldemort killed him by casting the Killing Curse at him. She'd seen the flash of green light, heard Harry's body hit the ground. How could he have survived?

Unless…

It took all of her training not to smile as the realization hit her. She had won five years ago. She had managed to save him.

"My lord… I… how can this be?" Alana asked breathlessly.

Voldemort scowled. "It would appear that Mr. Potter is completely immune to two of the three Great Curses."

In disgust, Voldemort cast the Cruciatus Curse at Harry. Alana struggled to keep her composure, but it was difficult. Inside, she writhed in pain with Harry; his pain was her pain, her anger was his anger.

In that moment, Alana vowed to free Harry. No matter what the cost.

I started sneaking down to the dungeons to see you. I would always drink an Invisibility Potion, because you had made it perfectly obvious the second time I accompanied Voldemort to the dungeons that you hated me.

Harry winced, biting his lip as he remembered. He had cussed Alana out, called her every name in the book. He'd never thought before now what kind of effect those words had had on her. He'd never thought that he'd hurt her as fiercely as she'd hurt him.

I would go down as often as I could to check on you. I'd bring you scraps of food, vials of medicine and healing potions, whatever I could to try to strengthen you. All the while, I plotted to get you out, to hasten Voldemort's demise.

Harry leaned back in his chair, stunned and abashed. He'd never believed that Alana had orchestrated his rescue; he'd always thought that Ron and Hermione had planned it.

Now his beastly behavior toward her seemed even more abominable.

Alana had risked everything to save him. And how had he thanked her? By being incredibly rude to her before telling her he never wanted to see her again.

Maybe he was just as evil as he'd thought she was.