If Harry hadn't been sitting down, he was sure he might have fallen over.
"My scar is a horcrux?" he repeated, dumbly.
Remus sat up and joined him on the couch, so Harry was sitting comfortably between the two of them. Remus held his hand, and Sirius put an arm around his shoulders.
"It's not as awful as it sounds, Harry," Remus began, gently. "Sirius and I have read quite a bit on horcruxes-"
"My family has quite an extensive library," Sirius interrupted, darkly. "On the dark arts, of course, but also on horcruxes. Really, you'd think they'd planned to make them, instead of simply supporting those who do."
Remus nodded, clearly used to hearing Sirius rant about this particular topic.
"Yes, we have quite a lot of information available on the topic." Sirius snorted, and Remus sent him a look, so he made the motion of zipping his lips and throwing away the key. If it wasn't so dark a topic, Harry might have laughed. "That being said, as we have plenty of information at our disposal, we've been able to spend the last couple of months studying this, ah, branch of dark magic. Thankfully, some of the volumes contain not only information about how to create them, but how to destroy them. Namely, without destroying the vessel-which, in your case, Harry-is obviously alive."
Harry had to laugh. "Obviously."
Sirius snickered and held him tighter. "And it's our top priority to keep you that way, pup."
Remus also tightened his grip on Harry's hand. "Indeed. Now, while both of us wanted to deny this in the beginning, the fact is that when Voldemort's curse failed to kill you, he accidentally placed a bit of himself inside you. In the form of a horcrux."
"That's why you can talk to snakes, pup," Sirius explained. "Neither of your parents could, nor your grandparents. It was a part of himself that Voldemort put in you."
"Dumbledore said as much," Harry recalled, "during my second year. After I destroyed the diary."
"Yes, and if the man had any sense, he would have recognized that the diary was a horcrux, and so was your scar, and scheduled surgery at St. Mungos to have it removed and dealt with. Instead, the fool waited until Voldemort had already come back to power before bothering with the pieces of himself he placed in other objects as a way to prevent himself from ever being killed again," Sirius growled. "Point is, you're not a horcrux, but your scar is, and that scar is your connection to Voldemort. Not only is it extremely dangerous because it means he can send you false visions-"
"Although he's stopped doing that, hasn't he?" Remus interrupted.
"Yeah, Dumbledore says he's using Occlumency against me. Because I can love, and he can't be near that," Harry explained, remembering their talk before the start of term.
"And your Occlumency shields have developed, but they're nowhere near as strong as his ability as a Legilimens. That would take years to develop, sorry to say," Sirius added, tightly. "While he can still use legilimency on you one your scar is no longer a horcrux, you won't have the mental link to him."
Harry nodded. It all made sense, really. Of course, they had to sever the link between himself and Voldemort, even if he had once thought the mental connection could be valuable. Not only was it too risky to himself and others, even if Harry couldn't be directly possessed, it meant that Voldemort would remain alive for as long as Harry was.
Even if Harry and the Order managed to destroy his body, the part of his soul within Harry would live on.
Destroying his scar was the only way to make sure that Voldemort could be destroyed.
"You're sure I won't die?" he asked.
Sirius had told him about how horcruxes reacted when in danger of being destroyed. Surely, his scar would behave similarly. He might still die, whatever they said.
Sirius turned him around, gently, and began rubbing his back in small circles. "No, pup. That's certainly one way, it's true, but there are other methods of destroying a horcrux without destroying the-the vessel. Which is good when the vessel is alive, and a teenager, and not at all deserving of death," he added, attempting to make light of the situation. "We're going to destroy the horcrux, but I promise, you will stay alive."
"Sirius is right," Remus added, giving his hand a squeeze. "All that needs to be done is to remove your scar."
"How?" Harry echoed. "You're going to cut it off, or is there another way?"
"Cutting it off is the safest. There are other methods...rituals and all that, but they present their own hazards. Physically removing it from your head involves the least amount of people, and the least potential amount of harm to you," Remus explained.
Harry looked from his godfather to his former teacher. "Which one of you will remove it?"
Sirius glanced at Remus before speaking. "Well, pup, Snape will do the cutting. With pain potions, and sleeping ones," Sirius added, quickly, his voice still soft and reassuring. His hands continued to make small circles along Harry's back. "Moreover, pup, you'll be asleep the whole time. When you wake up, you'll just have a bandage that you'll wear for the rest of the holidays. We have to do it soon, see, or else you'd still have to wear one when you get back to school."
"People will know, though, won't they? If I come back without a scar, or with a worse one?" Harry asked.
Not that he particularly cared what others thought, but well, he knew that word would get out. Malfoy could guess what had happened, maybe, and tell his mum. Word could get back to Voldemort.
And with the snake still to kill...not to mention Voldemort himself.
"We've discussed it all with Severus," Remus assured him. "He'll perform the extraction, and perform a charm so that the scar appears for a full day where your old one used to be. He'll teach it to you, too. It's a simple charm, and you should have no problem with it..."
"Wait a minute..." Harry's thoughts went back to what Sirius had said a moment earlier. "Snape's going to cut my head open?!"
Sirius pulled Harry into a firm hug. "He's a Potions master, isn't he? Better hands and reflexes than the rest of us."
"And he agreed?"
"He did," Remus acknowledged. "With reservations, but he did agree."
"Of course, we'll be here the whole time, and I promise, pup, you won't feel a thing," Sirius added, reassuringly. "We'll give you loads of potions, and you'll be out like a light. A day or so of recovering, maybe a few days, tops. Lots of bedrest during that time, but you'll be good as new by Christmas."
Harry took a deep breath. "And you're sure, then? That I'm a horcrux? Because, if that's not the case and you have Snape cut open my head for nothing..."
"We're certain. Well, not so much that you're the horcrux as it is your scar. At least, that's how it was created. Once it's removed and destroyed, your connection to Voldemort will be entirely severed. You're the eighth horcrux, the one he didn't intend to make," Remus explained, calmly, now also holding onto Harry. "In a sense, it will be the easiest one to destroy."
He nodded. "All right. All right, then," he repeated. "So long as I don't have to die..."
And it won't hurt to remove, he thought, but he didn't want to add that part out loud.
"You don't," the adults both said at once.
"And it won't hurt, not a bit," Sirius promised, giving Harry a hug. "You'll see. You'll take a few potions, have a nice long sleep, and when you wake up, it will all be over. Easy as anything."
Harry nodded again. He knew that Sirius was telling the truth. Or, at least, as much of the truth as he knew.
He also knew that things could go very, very wrong. How many witches and wizards had created horcruxes? Or used other witches and wizards as vessels?
All of what Sirius and Remus had said made sense, but this destruction of a horcrux wasn't as simple as fiendfyre or shoving basilisk's venom into it.
Harry knew that he could still die.
They just hoped that he wouldn't, and were reassuring him as best as they could, because they didn't, couldn't, know for sure.
Sirius always gave him lots of hugs, but for the rest of that evening, it felt a bit like they were attached at the hip. Not that Harry especially minded, seeing as he might not live to see the new year.
"I still can't believe that you trust Snape with a knife to my head," he grumbled, about an hour later, over hot chocolate. The three hadn't moved from the couch, except Remus, and that was to make the drink. "There's no way you could just take me to St. Mungos?"
"No, that's far too risky, especially now," Remus answered.
Harry sighed. "Keep an eye on him, all right? I don't want him to accidentally remove one of my eyes."
He was only partially joking. The former Potions master had saved his life, on more than one occasion, but he still looked at Harry as though he wanted nothing more than for him to disappear from the face of the Earth.
"Look on the bright side," Sirius teased. "You could always get a cool one like Moody. Be able to see through walls and stuff."
Harry groaned. "Then, they'll call me Mad Eye Potter."
"Has a nice ring to it, I'd say," Sirius retorted, pulling him into another hug.
Harry tried to glare at his godfather, but it ended up as a smile. A nervous smile, but a smile all the same.
"Is this why you want me to get all my work done before Christmas?" he asked, drinking the last of his hot chocolate.
"Partly. The other reason is that it's harder to enjoy yourself fully when you've got loads of essays and reading hanging over your head," Sirius answered, practically.
Harry nodded, but whether it was because of the long day or the emotions behind it, he was starting to feel exhausted. He wondered if Sirius would need to carry him to his bed.
"Let's stay here tonight. There's plenty of room on the couch for the three of us," Sirius offered. "And Harry looks like he's settled in for the night."
"I can move," Harry protested, but it was half-hearted.
"It would be a tight squeeze," Remus answered, rising. "I'll use my room, if that's all right."
"It's your room, Moony," Sirius replied, stretching out his legs into a horizontal position. "You know it's all right."
He summoned some extra blankets and made the fire warmer before gently rearranging himself and his godson into a more comfortable position.
Once they were both tucked in, and Harry was half asleep, he spoke up again.
"Would you stroke my hair, Sirius?" he asked, in a half whisper.
"Glad to," Sirius answered, meaning it, and readjusted his hand so that he was able to give Harry a good scalp massage.
The next two days passed with Harry completing his homework-by the end of the first day-and baking and other new holiday traditions for the new family. Once the homework was out of the way, Harry tried to enjoy himself, but he was very worried about the impending operation.
Sirius was concerned as well, even if he tried not to let Harry see it. Not that he could fool the teenager. Harry had spent far too many hours with him to know his moods, and Sirius was one to wear his heart on his sleeve.
Severus Snape arrived promptly at nine in the morning on the fourth day of Harry's Christmas holidays. Normally, Harry and Sirius might still be in bed, certainly lounging around in their pajamas or wizarding nightwear, but today, they were fully dressed and had eaten a couple of hours before. Even the back massage Sirius had given Harry the night before hadn't exactly resulted in the best night's sleep, as he'd been assaulted by nightmares of Snape and Voldemort chasing him around the graveyard with blood-soaked knives, and while Harry wasn't exactly tired, he certainly didn't feel well rested.
He felt, rather, the way he had on the morning of his Potions OWL. That whatever he had done to prepare would never be enough to receive the required grade of Outstanding, and he might not even pass when it was all said and done.
This time, all Harry really needed to do was lay there as Snape opened the skin around his forehead and remove the scar, but Harry rather felt that he would prefer taking the Potions OWL exam once more instead.
"Snape," Sirius greeted, but there was no malice in his voice.
Snape nodded, politely enough. "Black."
"Good morning, Severus," Remus said, smiling at him. "Can I offer you something to drink? To eat?"
Snape looked as though he might refuse, but nodded ever so briefly. "We have much to discuss before I operate on Potter. Some tea would be appreciated."
So, holding hot mugs of tea, they sat around the dining room table, which was where the Order tended to meet. Harry found this oddly appropriate.
"First, Potter, I will administer to you three potions that must be consumed in the following order. A potion that prevents the body from processing all pain, a potion that puts you to sleep one moment after consumption, and finally, a potion that makes the body unable to move for an extended period of time. You will be asleep, but the last potion will ensure that you will be unable to so much as blink. Do you understand?" Snape continued.
Harry frowned. "If I'm going to be asleep, sir, why do I need the others?"
He expected Snape to scoff at him, but his teacher actually nodded his head in mild approval. "Are you familiar with anesthesia awareness, Potter?"
Harry thought hard, but his exposure to muggle TV was mostly whatever cartoon or shoot-em-up show Dudley watched, and occasionally, the news stories. Mrs. Figg occasionally watched fictional stories about crimes, but he hadn't stayed with her in ages.
"No, sir," he finally answered.
"Surgery, or cutting open a person in order to treat and injury or remove an infected organ or what have you," Snape began, "is nearly as old as mankind. In the early days, the equivalent of a Healer would douse the muggle with enough alcohol to, with luck, keep him unaware while he was being cut into. That is, if that was available to use, or could be afforded. Having others hold the muggle down while the doctor cut him open was another viable method."
"Barbaric," Sirius muttered.
Snape turned to him, almost sharply. "Without wands and spells, Black, they did not have a myriad of options at their disposal. Unless the person wished to die, often very painfully, they used what was available."
Sirius made a face, but nodded.
"A little over a hundred years ago," Snape continued, "muggles came to invent chemicals that could be, as they call, 'pumped' into a person so that they would not wake up hungover, or worse, be forced to endure the pain of the cutting until, if they were lucky, they simply fell unconscious. This invention is called anesthesia, and it is in use for most muggle operations today. The muggle enters the hospital, receives the appropriate dosage, and falls asleep. The doctor cuts him or her open, operates, and the muggle is blissfully unaware of the pain that their ancestors hundreds of years ago would have felt. The next time they rose, it would be after the cutting had finished, and likely doused with more muggle pain medicine to aid in their recovery. Are you following? All of you?"
The three wizards nodded, and Snape went on.
"This was how it was intended to work, and indeed did work, or nearly all of the time-"
"Most of the time?" Harry interrupted, nearly yelping.
Snape nodded, seemingly not angry at having been interrupted. "Quite, Potter. In various instances, throughout the muggle world, the chemicals that were meant to keep the muggle asleep and blissfully unaware of the pain of the procedure simply...failed. There are countless recorded instances, even former patients who went on muggle talk shows, to describe what had happened. Muggle doctors coined the term as 'anesthesia awareness' and it refers to something as benign as a patient briefly waking, feeling nothing, and the doctors giving him or her more drugs...to a far more painful experience of being awake and aware nearly the entire time."
"But, surely," Sirius protested, placing a hand around Harry's shoulders, "the muggles could have cried out! Moved an arm or something. Let the doctors know that they were awake."
"Unfortunately, no," Snape contradicted. "The human body must be kept entirely still during these types of operations, so another drug is administered to the muggle to prevent any kind of movement. The muggle is entirely paralyzed, unable to move or issue a warning."
All three of them shuddered at the idea, and even Snape's face seemed to soften.
"Our potions are far less susceptible to error than muggle drugs, but the basic premise remains the same. When I cut into Harry, he must be unable to move. Of course, he must also be unaware, and in the event that something like the phenomenon I described for muggles occurs, he must not feel anything. Now," Snape added, turning to Harry, "what I described for muggles has never happened for witches and wizards. There have been no records of a potion to produce unconsciousness ever ceasing to work, and the potion I will be using has been around for well over a thousand years. The chance of Potter awakening after he takes it are not merely minuscule, they might be nonexistent. That being said, the pain inhibitor will prevent him from feeling any discomfort if it should fail."
"Sir, you're saying that if I drink the stuff that is supposed to knock me out, but it doesn't, I won't feel any of your cutting, but I also won't be able to move?" Harry asked.
Snape nodded. "Precisely."
Harry thought for a minute. "Couldn't you just give me the pain potion and the one that keeps me unable to move, and not the one that puts me to sleep?"
Snape frowned. "I...could."
"Then, let's do that. Because, if there's a chance it won't work, well, at least I won't wake up to find that out," Harry pressed. "Sir."
Also, if the surgery killed him, then at least he would sort of know when he was going to die.
Not that Harry said that bit out loud.
Snape turned to Sirius and Remus, as did Harry. Sirius had gone white, and Remus looked far more pale than usual.
"Pup," Sirius began, placing a hand on Harry's, "this thing that he told us about...it never happens."
"Never in recorded history," Snape intervened.
"Yeah, but, that doesn't mean it doesn't happen. Maybe, some kid or something got the potion, and he woke up in the middle, but he thought he was having a crazy dream and fell back asleep. Or, maybe, it's like what happens with those poor muggles, but he reckons no one would believe him, so he keeps quiet about the whole thing," Harry said, frowning. "If I'm not going to feel anything, then I'd rather not be asleep."
Sirius closed his eyes, then turned to Snape. "What are your thoughts, Snape?"
"As long as Potter remains motionless and free from pain during my cutting him open, it matters not to me if he's awake of not," Snape answered with rather brutal honesty. "If he wishes to remain awake, for the infinitesimal chance that the sleeping draught will not work, it is of no consequence."
"Then, let's do it that way," Harry pressed.
Snape nodded. "As his guardian, do you have any objections?"
Sirius barked a laugh. "Loads, but it's ultimately his decision. He'll be of age in a handful of months, after all."
With that, Snape nodded. "Very well, Potter. You will remain awake throughout the procedure. Shall we begin?"
Author's note:
I've read and heard about at least three ways for Harry's horcrux to either be removed or rendered ineffective. All of these methods have their own merits. However, the one that stuck with me is the surgical option, performed by Snape, which I initially read in another fanfic. With the permission of the author, I borrowed his idea. The fic, if you're inclined to read it, is called "To Recollect the Future" by OliverSnape. (His name is separated by a period after Oliver on this site, and there is none on AO3) It is available on FFN as well as AO3.
Next up: Snape operates, and Harry starts to recover, but it's not as easy as getting over a cold.
