Harry had a difficult time falling asleep. Somewhere there was a man waiting for him in the woods with a message about Les Maudites and a bunch of other stuff that was undoubtedly sinister and depressing. Hermione had decided to spend the night in her room due to a major test the next morning, and Harry was thankful because he was sure he would have driven her mad with his relentless tossing and turning.
He tossed off the blankets, feeling too hot, and then instantly was cold again, gathering them up around his body with irritation. That's it. I am going to sleep. He thought resolutely, clamping his eyes shut tightly.
When he closed his eyes he could suddenly see ancient eyes staring back at him. They were unrecognizable to him, the shade of grey slate but filled with a sort of anguish that made Harry immediately open his eyes once more, nearly screaming out. This continued to persist each time he attempted to sleep.
He began to pace around his room until he was tired and even tried reading for class, but as soon as his eyes grew heavy he would see those grey eyes cutting into him. He felt feverish and sick with exhaustion, and as the clock hit midnight he took a sharp breath.
He listened to the clock tower chime... once... six times... ten times... and finally twelve times to announce it was officially midnight. Harry stood in his pajamas, looking wildly around his room, expecting something to happen, or another letter to just appear. But nothing happened, and he let out a long sigh of relief. Perhaps now he could finally sleep.
He laid down on his bed, enjoying the cool sheets against his sweaty skin. He had been all worked up for nothing, twisted up inside and it was probably all some sick joke. Just a sick jokehe thought as he let his tired eyes close, this time to the calming darkness. Nobody was glaring back at him in his mind's eye and he wondered if he'd imagined it all in the first place.
And then there was a screaming in his skull that threatened to rip it apart.
Harry rolled from the bed, crashing heavily to the stone floor in a way that seemed to instantly bruise the ribs he had landed on. He grabbed at his head, trying to hold it together as the screaming resumed, and frantically he tried to kick himself free of his sheets.
"HARRY JAMES POTTER. COME TO ME NOW!" a voice boomed threw the shrill ringing in his ears. Harry clamped his eyes shut and now he could see the man who spoke to him, an ancient looking man with a hunched back standing in a clearing in the Forbidden Forest. The man was leaning heavily on a walking stick, and while he looked as though he could barely stay upright, there was great power radiating from around him. And his voice echoed through Harry's head with such power.
"COME NOW HARRY!"
Harry screamed out at the pain, pulling his body slowly across the floor. He had experienced the cruciatus curse before, but this was worse, it felt like death would be preferable in every way possible. He felt blood slowly leak from his ears and trickle down his neck. He wanted to tell the old man to go fuck himself, to leave him alone, but words were not an option.
I need to make it to the forestHarry thought through the pain, still dragging his writhing body across the room. At once the shrill screaming faded, his head still ringing but the pain lessened enough to allow him to dizzily pull himself to his feet.
Each of his joints felt like they were on fire as he walked barefooted down the cold stone steps and out of Gryffindor tower. He was clothed only in his thin cotton pajamas, but he was desperate to get to the forest, desperate to make the pain cease.
He stepped out into the cold winter night, the soles of his uncovered feet shooting with pain as they sunk into the freezing snow. But the pain of the cold on his flesh was nothing in comparison to the ringing that persisted in his brain. It made the burning of his scar feel mild in comparison, and he didn't notice as blood still freshly trickled from his ears, soaking the collar of his shirt.
An icy wind was ripping across the campus of the school as the dark haired boy made his way to the edge of the forest, his body shaking heavily as pale moonlight glistened from the blood plastered to his neck and dripping down his chin. His teeth chattered to the point where they might shatter, but he had no strength to summon a warming charm. He just kept placing one foot numbly in front of the other, creating deep footprints in the snow.
The woods were dark and blocked out nearly all moonlight, but somehow he knew where to go. He weaved between the massive tree trunks, and none of the magical creatures living in the forest dared come near him. They had all fled as soon as they felt the presence of the old man.
Harry stumbled through a pricker bush and landed on his hands and knees in the snow, only a body length away from the old man who still leaned heavily on his cane, peering down at Harry through his dark grey eyes. The pain in Harry's head suddenly vanished.
"I am sorry I had to resort to such tactics. You should have just come as I requested."
Harry felt a dim surge of anger at the man, but his fatigue and frozen muscles kept him from being able to move or even talk. He remained crouched on his hands and knees, breathing heavily as long clouds of breath billowed from his mouth in the cold air.
"You are cold and in pain. I will help you Mr. Potter, as I truly do admire you. I know you'll find this hard to believe, but you are the single most special person I have encountered in two thousand years."
Harry felt his body slowly warming, and he could breathe more easily now. He rose to his feet and the cold ice beneath his exposed toes seemed to grow comfortably warm. The pain in his joints melted away and he felt his spine straighten until he was standing evenly, looking the old man straight in the face.
"Who are you?" Harry asked, feeling strong and resolute as he slowly slid his wand from his sleeve.
"I have had many names. So many, that I would say names are quite irrelevant."
"You have been writing me those letters."
"Yes, I have. I first heard of you when your mother sacrificed her life for you when you were just a baby. I have been watching you very closely ever since. I meant it when I said that I had to be very patient in waiting for you to kill Voldemort and that I was very pleased when you finally did so. I could have easily disposed of him myself had that been important to me. But if I had done so, you never would have received the third mark of death. And that was most crucial. Harry, you have been marked by death in the three most important ways. To me, this makes you very special."
"You want me to become a Damned One?" Harry growled. "Why would I ever do that?"
"It's a fair question you pose. Were you of a different nature, I would simply explain that becoming part of Les Maudites will give you power beyond your most wild dreams. But, I know from close examination that such does not interest you. So instead, I will tell you why you must give up you right to die. You must do this for my sake."
Harry stared angrily at the man, whose body looked nearly warped by age and eyes impossibly tired. "Why should I do anything like that for you? You send me these cryptic letters for nearly a year now, you pull me from my bed and torture me, and now you want me to give up my 'right to die' whatever that means."
"Right to die is just as it sounds. You have seen a glimpse of the afterlife Harry. You know there is peace there, and there are the souls of the people you have loved. Wizards like Voldemort crave immortality, but that is because they are insane fools. Voldemort was never the most evil wizard to ever live, just one of the more twisted and idiotic. He was weak in many ways, ugly and a perversion of nature. His desire to live forever was, in truth, the endeavor not of a powerful wizard, but of a mad man. There is great solace in death, and great torment in living to see everything around you change, again and again.
I can tell you this for certain; I have lived for 2,000 years now."
"You are a Damned One?" Harry surmised.
"Yes. I am the only Damned One to exist since Agapios, the wizard whom you read of in Anna Alvarez' report. I have told nobody this before except for a French scholar whom I was briefly very close friends with. The knowledge I imparted on him led to his murder, as you know."
"Why are you telling me then?"
"Because you are the only one I've encountered in my many years to be marked by death in three ways. And only if you choose to travel to the underworld and willingly give up your right to die will you be able to become a Damned One. And only then will I be released of my powers, and finally be able to pass on."
"So... you want me to do this so that you can finally die?" Harry asked, incredulous. The old man nodded slowly, a deep sorrow glimmering in his eyes. "No. I will not do that. However much I'd like to kill you, I am not signing up to become some super wizard who slowly goes mad."
The old man's face twisted into a contorted look of rage and Harry's head suddenly spun with pain again, causing him to fall to the frozen ground once more. "YOU HAVE NO IDEA HOW TIRED MY SOUL HAS BECOME!" the man's voice roared in Harry's head. Harry tried to fight the pain, and he could vaguely feel his wand still in his hand. He tried to point it at the ancient wizard, but the old man merely smirked. "DO REALLY THINK THAT WAND WILL DO ANYTHING AGAINST ME?"
The wand dropped from Harry's hand and into the snow as his world spun with pain, the pressure in his head growing to torturous levels. Kill meHarry thought weakly, and all at once the pain stopped. Harry was swallowed by the overwhelming silence of the forest as slowly his eyes adjusted to see the black branches of the trees above his obscuring a view of the moon and stars beyond.
The old man crouched down beside Harry, but as Harry slowly came back to his senses he realized that it was not the old man's face he was looking into but that of Professor Freeman. "Professor?" he whispered hoarsely.
"I really did like you Harry" the grey eyed teacher said sadly. "I had a feeling you would be a fighter, that you would rather die than cave in to torture. You have a very strong soul."
"You... you're Professor Freeman?" slowly realizing that those grey eyes were the same as that of the old man.
"I chose this form because I knew you would bond to someone who reminded you of yourself. Someone physically alike you in many ways... a fan of quidditch and with great knowledgeable about fighting the dark arts. I'm sorry for misleading you, but I needed to get closer to you. I needed to fully know you."
"You don't know... anything about me" Harry managed, still unable to move, spread out on his back in the snow.
"I know enough" Freeman said sadly. "Enough to get you to do my bidding."
Freeman was now sitting cross legged in the snow, looking almost casual as he watched Harry, blood spreading out from around his skull and seeping into the white ground around him. "You are truly selfless in nature Harry. I realized this about you very quickly. I needed to find something that you truly love to hold against you." He reached into his pocket and pulled out the same small pocket mirror he had shown Harry at Hogwarts. "Remember this?"
Harry might have nodded, but his body was still immobile.
"I told you it was like the Mirror of Erised, that it shows what your heart most desires. But I lied somewhat. This mirror shows that which you cannot live without. And Harry, I've now seen what you'd be willing to give anything for... or should I say who?"
He turned the mirror to Harry, the silver handle glinting slightly in the dim moonlight. Harry looked up and saw Hermione there, sleeping soundly. Suddenly, he felt rage fill his heart and he found his voice through the pain and fatigue.
"DON'T YOU DARE TOUCH HER!" Harry shouted.
"Ah Harry, true love is such a rare thing. Believe me, I have lived long enough to witness it, and it is far from common. I'm willing to bet you would become a Damned One just to save her life."
"I would, I will" Harry said, his tone one of panic.
"But Harry, I have also learned not to trust a man on his word. So sadly, I will have to give you more incentive than that. I will have to give you no choice but to willingly give your right to die up to die."
"What do you mean?" Harry demanded in a strangled voice.
Freeman crept closer to Harry until his mouth was so close to his ear that Harry could feel his breath as he whispered. "This is most important Harry; if you want to end her suffering, you will have to become a Damned One. There is no other way."
And then he was gone, leaving Harry lying alone in the middle of the forest, his clothing drenched and his body furiously shivering. He felt at first like he could barely move, but forced himself to find the strength. He needed to get to her, needed to make sure she was okay. He sat up with great effort, and then plunged his icy hands into the snow to search for his wand. Gripping it in his trembling fingers he rose to his feet, and then began to run.
' ' ' ' '' ' ' ' ' '' ' '' ' ' ' ' ' ' ' '' ' ' ' ' '' ' '' ' ' ' ' ' ' ' '' ' ' ' ' '' ' '' ' ' ' ' ' ' ' '' ' ' ' ' '' ' '' ' ' '
Hermione shot straight up in her bed, screaming Harry's name out. In the dark she suddenly realized she was alone in her own room, and that there was nobody to save her from the searing pain ripping through her chest like a knife. She could hardly breath as she felt a terrible heat creep over her body, burning her.
She stumbled from her bed, feeling the world tip upside down and then right side up again. I'm horribly illshe realized, and she knew she needed help so she crept slowly from her room, trying to ignore the nauseating dizziness that surrounded her. She ran her hands across the course stone walls to keep from falling down the steps as she made her way to the common room. She needed to find Harry, but she could hardly see anymore. She felt the soft carpeted flooring of the common room beneath her burning feet, and then pitched forward, plummeting face-first.
Before her head could collide with the ground she was quickly swept up by strong arms which gathered her up, holding her close. The body next to hers was cold, almost freezing, but it felt good against her feverish skin. Slowly she regained her sight, and was looking up into emerald green eyes that were sick with worry.
"Harry" she muttered deliriously, slowly reaching up her hand to touch his face. "Where did you come from?"
He didn't answer, he merely picked her up in his arms and started walking out of the common room with wide, purposeful strides. He tried not to cry as he held her in his trembling arms, the cold washing out of his body due to the extreme heat that was coming off of her in waves. His feet had blistered from the snow, but even with her added weight he did not notice as he carried her to the medical ward. She had fainted, her hand still weakly cupping the back of his neck where the blood from earlier had frozen.
When he arrived at the medical ward he kicked the door open and cried frantically for help. Madam Pomfrey emerged moments later from her adjoining room, holding a half burned candle as she shuffled out in her bathrobe. "Harry?" she cried out in alarm.
"Help her" Harry cried breathlessly, lying her pale body down on the nearest bed.
"My God, what happened to you?" she gasped, shocked by the amount of blood soaked around his shoulders and matted into his hair.
"HELP HER!" Harry shouted again, this time a gleam of menace in his green eyes that scared the nurse. She turned her half-awake gaze onto the girl who laid in the bed, and could see that she was gravely ill. She didn't need to reach out and touch Hermione's sweating forehead to feel the heat radiating from her body.
"She had a very high fever" Madame Pomfrey said tersely. "Bring me lots of wet cloths".
At first Harry couldn't seem to tear himself from Hermione's side, but then he urgently sprung to action, running off as Pomfrey quickly began to conduct healing spells on the still unconscious girl. Harry came back and quickly covered her body in the cool clothes, and allowed the nurse to go about her job in peace. He watched her through frightened eyes, holding Hermione's hand tightly.
After what felt like an eternity of administering potions and attempting spells, Madam Pomfrey sat down exhausted at the foot of the bed, her eyes a light with fear as she looked at the unhappy, blood soaked boy. "Nothing seems to be helping... I have never seen anything like this in all my years. We should take her to St. Mungos immediately, but I'm afraid of moving her in this condition. I'll have to summon a specialist to arrive urgently!"
Harry nodded his heavy and still aching head. The nurse scuffled off quickly and Harry lifted himself onto the bed, laying very close to her as he watched her take painful breaths. "This is all my fault" he whispered. "Everyone I love is always made to suffer. I should have never let us become this close... I should have..."
But he trailed off, unsure of what he should have done differently. Not loved her? Had that ever even been a choice? She was so brilliant he could not help but greatly admire her since they first met, and then he saw her Gryffindor bravery and loyalty and how couldn't he love her?
But he had promised himself he would always watch over her, he would make up for her suffering by giving her the best life possible. And now here she lay, looking on the verge of death and he was entirely powerless to save her.
After what felt like an eternity Madam Pomfrey returned, a tall slender wizard in her wake. Harry moved to give the medi-wizard room to examine the patient. "He is the best doctor at St. Mungos" Madam Pomfrey assured Harry.
The doctor eyed Harry warily as he began to take numerous instruments from a small black bag. "I think it is best if the boy clean himself up while I do my examination. I will have many questions for him."
Harry was reluctant to remove himself from her proximity, but there was nothing he could do but try to clear his head to supply the answers the medi-wizard would need. Madam Pomfrey gently took Harry by the elbow and led him to her quarters where she refrained from pestering him with questions and instead offered him a warm basin of water to clean in and a fresh white shirt. As he cleaned his body in solitude he couldn't believe the sheer amount of blood that was soaked into his hair and stuck to his skin. He felt like he was scrubbing for ages before his skin was finally clean.
He looked in the mirror and the face looking back was hardly recognizable. When he had stared into the grey eyes of the old man, he had seen such intense pain that it shocked him. Now his own eyes looked somewhat similar. To outlive everyone you love, to go on for thousands of years without anybody knowing your true name or nature, without love, without a place to belong. Harry pitied the old man, but he also felt a deep rooted hatred for him. A sort of burning hatred he had never before experienced. He hated him because he had played Harry like a fool, and had hurt that which mattered most to him. As far as Harry could tell, the old man had no level of humanity left to speak of.
And that was what scared Harry most as he stood isolated in the silence of his thoughts. If he chose to seek out this so-called underworld, if he chose to become a Damned One, how would his soul handle it? How could he bear the burden of all that power, of outliving the only person he had left to truly love, of being stuck wandering through thousands of years, waiting an eternity to be reunited with his parents who he'd been waiting to see since he was one years old.
How could he bare so much torment and not become evil? He would forget what it was to be human.
He pulled the clean white shirt over his head with a sigh, and when he walked out Madam Pomfrey was awake at the kitchen table of her humble living quarters, a steaming cup of tea set out for Harry. "Drink, it will help you from catching cold" she said softly.
"Thank-you" Harry replied, unsure if his stomach could handle the hot liquid, but trying nevertheless.
She studied the boy as he sat there sipping his tea and thought that he looked far more like a man these days and wondered how such young shoulders had carried such heavy burdens for so long. "You have frost bite" she noted. "Allow me to heal you."
He conceded, and the procedure was quick and painless. He had been healed many times by the nurse, and she had often seemed overbearing and fussy, but now he realized what a genuine heart she had. He thanked her once more, and then went to check on Hermione.
The room was dark, but a lantern by her bedside revealed that the doctor had completed his work, and he was now packing his belongings back into the little black bag. "Is she alright?" Harry asked hopelessly.
"I have gotten her into a stable condition for the time being, she needs to rest. But I regret to inform you Mr. Potter, that she can only last so long under the comforts of the careful charms I have built around her. Eventually the curse will win out, and she will be in incredible pain."
"Will she die?" Harry asked softly.
"Unfortunately no" replied the medi-wizard.
"Unfortunately?" Harry exclaimed angrily.
"Please understand Mr. Potter, the curse that has been put on her is very old magic, and very strong. I will research this to the greatest extent of my resources, but I fear this is far beyond the knowledge of modern wizarding medicine."
Harry swallowed hard, knowing the truth of the man's words. The magic was far more ancient than anything they could hope to cure, and far more powerful than what could be healed by a simple medi-witch or wizard. He heard Freeman's voice in his ear once more, whispering in the forest.
If you want to end her suffering, you will have to become a damned one. There is no other way.
' ' ' ' ' ' ' ' ' ' ' ' ' ' ' ' ' ' ' ' ' ' ' ' ' ' ' ' ' ' ' ' ' ' ' ' ' ' ' ' ' ' ' ' ' ' ' ' ' ' ' ' ' ' ' ' ' ' ' ' ' ' ' ' ' ' ' ' '
Hermione woke from a wild and painful dream that involved fire slowly turning her flesh to dust and Harry trying to reach her, but the more he struggled the further away he seemed to be. In the dream she was faced with terrible memories again and again. Erasing her memory from her parents' lives. The face of Belletrix Lestrange as she took such joy in carving mudblood into Hermione's flesh. The moment she believed Harry had died, his body still and limp in Hagrid's arms.
Each time she would re-live the pain of the memory, and while she knew it was a dream the flames and burning pain kept dragging her down from escaping. She began to lose hope and resolve, thinking that she would very soon die, and then there was a faint blue glow through it all, and as she moved closer towards it she felt the pain relinquish bit by bit. After what felt like an eternity she was able to open her eyes and see that she was in the medical ward at Hogwarts.
The blue light in her dreams was an orb hovering over the bed, casting a pale blue beam onto her. She recognized it immediately from her advanced healing class. It was a stasis charm, a very advanced form of medical magic that was used to preserve the dying. So I am dying then she realized was a sharp pain of sorrow.
She realized she was able to move despite the fiery pain in her joints, and as she looked around she saw Harry's head rested on the edge of the bed, his body half falling out of his chair. He looked thoroughly exhausted, his skin a deathly shade of pale and dark crescent moons under his eyes. The only thing that assured her he was not dead was the steady rise and fall of his breathing.
She tried to remember what had happened, how she had ended up in this death bed. She recalled waking to excruciating pain in her chest, and barely making it down the stairs. She remembered falling as the heat of fever must have overtaken her body, and then being caught. She could barely remember Harry's arms around her. He seemed to have swooped out of nowhere like a guardian angel. And vaguely she remembered seeing blood... had it been her own?
Fighting her stiff joints she inspected her body, seeing no signs of impalement. Assured that she had not been bleeding she began to look over Harry as he slept. He also appeared to be free of visible wounds. She slowly moved herself to the foot of the bed to be closer to him, running her fingers through his soft hair as he slept.
Slowly the gesture woke him up and he snapped upright with a look of alarm in his eyes. "You're awake!" he nearly yelled, his expression wild with panic.
"Yes" she replied weakly. "Lay with me... please."
Wordlessly he helped situate her in the bed, even fluffing her pillows in a surprisingly gentle gesture of caring. He tucked her in carefully under the sheets of the hospital bed and then slid in beside her, sliding his arm under her as to cradle her against his chest. She felt suddenly at peace as they quietly lay there for some time.
"I'm dying aren't I?" she asked, trying not to cry.
"No" he responded, his tone unreadable.
"You don't have to lie to protect me Harry. I know what a stasis charm is for."
"It's not what you think" he responded slowly, trying to find the words to explain it all to her. "You've been cursed. It's very powerful and it won't kill you but it will cause you great pain. The charm is the only warding it off for now."
"Cursed?" she asked, and when he saw the fear in her eyes he felt like his heart shattered.
"Yes, by a Damned One. Mr. Anonymous. Or Professor Freeman. Whatever you prefer to call him. He is a 2,000 year old wizard and part of Les Maudites. He is very powerful, and very cruel... but it's my fault."
He buried his face against her shoulder and she felt a sudden wetness soaking through her night gown and realized that he was crying.
"I should have agreed to do what he asked when he asked me. I should have known better than to play with fate."
"What did he want from you Harry?" she asked, greatly alarmed.
"He wants me to go to the underworld. To give up my right to die and become a Damned One so that his soul will become free. I didn't want to do it... when the time comes, I want to embrace death, I want to see the afterlife. Nearly everyone I ever loved is there, somewhere."
He took in a sharp breath and wiped away his tears angrily. "But it's my fate, and I must do this or your suffering will never end."
"No!" she suddenly barked. "I read that report Anna Alvarez wrote Harry, and you can't become like that wizard Agapios. To see everything you ever loved vanish before your eyes will be to lose your humanity. Harry, you mustn't do this!"
His eyes flashed angrily. "And what other option is there? To watch you suffer all my life? As if that won't drive me mad?"
"I'm not suggesting that either Harry..." she paused for a moment, trying to determine just what she wasin fact suggesting. And then she took a deep breath to steady her nerves for what she was about to say. She looked into his green eyes, those loving eyes that she knew so well.
"Harry, you're going to have to kill me."