Hello lovelies! I'm finally back with a new chapter :D Thanks for all the support! It means so much to me to hear your thoughts and wishes for this story.
Enjoy!
Chapter 43 – RAB
Harry ran. Blurry shapes chased him from every side, dark lines and burned spots racing over the tapestry on the walls all across the endless corridor he tried to escape from. Dark threads reached up, whipping in the air as he sprinted onwards, the same dusty chandelier swinging over his head every few seconds. Bursting through a dark, locked door that appeared out of nowhere, he fell down into open air, barely managing to catch himself when landing with a smack. Weak and exhausted, feeling as if every bone was broken or bruised, he kept lying on the rough stone floor he'd crashed on.
''A lovely place of meeting you have invited me to,'' he heard, a pair of unclad feet coming into view that he didn't recognise. Looking up, he saw a familiar face with even more familiar eyes.
''Got so used to this form already that you use it in dreams?'' he asked as he mustered Voldemort in his disguise as a news editor. Slowly, he sat up, all muscles screaming. Dreams shouldn't be allowed to hurt so much. All those stories of pinching oneself to wake up were no more than a fairytale, the bruises and scrapes he'd just received felt as real as anything.
Voldemort's lips twisted into a sneer ''You are the one choosing the setting this time. The fact that your mind is making this dream uncomfortable might have influenced my appearance. I despise being so human again.''
''Don't fret, I'm sure it's purely optical.''
''Hilarious. If you are starting like that, I might as well leave again.''
Harry scrambled to his feet as the other turned to disappear, grabbing onto the man's long sleeves. ''No, wait!'' he exclaimed, pulling the Dark Lord back towards him. ''I didn't mean to… oh.'' He had pulled a tad more forceful than intended, winding up bumping into Voldemort's chest. ''I'm sorry,'' he muttered, quickly taking a step backwards.
''No need, if you want me to stay so badly, I could comply.'' Harry threw a half-hearted glare at Voldemort's smug face, unable to meet his eyes directly for longer than a second. There was a look that he couldn't place very well, and Harry wasn't sure if he wanted to either.
''Where are we?'' he asked to turn the conversation to more comfortable territory. The stone he'd fallen on turned out to be the upper part of a massive, rectangular room, which sunk down in the middle, rows and rows of steps hewn into the floor as if for spectators. Harry wasn't entirely sure why, for in the very middle of it was nothing but an archway with a tattered black curtain. Dreams were strange sometimes.
Voldemort stepped further into the room, descending a few of the steps. ''The Department of Mysteries,'' he spoke softly, looking back at Harry. ''You have never been here, have you? You might have pulled this image from my own memories. I've been here twice, neither time with permission.''
''Is it an artefact of sort?'' Harry guessed, looking at the archway, the curtain moving as if there was a draft.
''An ancient one. None still alive know where it came from. It is said that it was found in a cave far below London, and that this room was built around it. Eventually, the Ministry was built on top. Rumours that I have not been able to confirm or reject.''
''So what does it do?''
''Difficult to say, there are a couple of theories. The only facts about this object are that those who step through from either side vanish, and that people who believe in an afterlife and have lost those close to them hear voices whispering from it. The only person who knew more was a witch brought in here shortly after the Department of Mysteries was created, back when they hadn't completely shut it off with secrecy regulations. She bowed in front of it, named it 'The Veil', then stepped through before anyone could inquire about her knowledge.''
''A Veil? Like in Necromancy?'' That he'd pluck exactly this out of Voldemort's mind to dream of was an uneasy thought. However, it was undeniably Harry's dream, the edges of the room were too undetailed, one wall was missing and stretched into nothingness.
''My thought exactly. I had hoped to find a better way to connect to the dead, perhaps ensure another way of immortality in case my Horcruxes were not enough. One of the times I was here, I tried to study it, analysed the materials with any diagnostic spells I knew back then. My only finding was that the cloth you see is not physical. It consists of a type of energy, the only energy left behind in corpses, not even magical. The arch is the dangerous part. I was unable to identify anything about it other than that it should not exist and lost interest after that as I could not use it, only stepping into this room once more afterwards during a raid at the Ministry.''
''I don't hear whispers,'' Harry spoke, also going down the steps, until he could climb up the pedestal on which the arch stood. ''Shouldn't I?''
''This is only a dream. You might have heard something when standing before the Veil in reality. As is, this is no more than a recreation of my own memories, and I lost none who were dear to me… at the time.'' The last three words had been spoken much softer than the rest, though the large room still carried them far and clear. Voldemort grimaced. ''It always comes down to death between us somehow, doesn't it?''
''You say that as if you aren't terrified of it.''
Voldemort narrowed his eyes at Harry. ''And you speak as if you are not terrified of me. You are very close to crossing the line beyond which I am not a decent person anymore.''
Harry thought to himself that the other had been the one to cross that line first, on a great many deal of occasions. He wisely decided against pointing that out when realising how easily Voldemort could manipulate these dreams and spin them into a nightmare far worse than Harry's own imagination could come up with. ''Right before leaving Hogwarts, Dumbledore told me that the dead should stay dead,'' Harry mused, looking up towards the archway. ''I wonder what experiences he had with them…''
''Enough of that,'' the Dark Lord spoke, his voice turning colder like it always did when Dumbledore was mentioned. ''I did not come here to marvel at your twisted dreams. Barty told me that despite interfering Aurors, he successfully delivered you to Étourneau's house. What happened after that?''
''While one was really an Auror, it turned out that he worked for Dumbledore and came to take me to the Order's Headquarters. I'm there right now. Surely, Snape will give you an update about the entire situation soon, I did not get more than a general overview.''
''Perhaps if you would not have blabbered to Black so much...''
''Then other people would have stopped me,'' Harry shrugged. ''It looks like Dumbledore updated his member policy to 'must have left Hogwarts already'. Not even those who are seventeen or eighteen are allowed to join when still a student. I'm not the only child here and they didn't get any details either over the course of the last month.''
''That's not much different than before,'' Voldemort spoke, leaving Harry confused.
''Wait, I thought… my dad…''
''Dumbledore recruited students, true, but they were not official members. They only did work for him behind the scenes. Imagine the backlash he'd have gotten from the general public if it had become known that he was using children. Now as well, he is still trying to prepare you for some unknown task.''
''I must have misunderstood that then. Sirius did not deny it…''
''Black surely must have gotten the idea back then as well that he was playing an important role,'' Voldemort sniffed. ''He would have seen himself as a full member. The Order also was not as organised yet back then. Have you spoken to Severus?''
''Not privately, only when other people were present. He's still as unpleasant as ever. Do you think you can trust him?''
The other hummed. ''Trust? Of course not. But I know that right now he has more to gain from working on my side than against me. I'll ensure to keep it that way. It is not as if he'd have it better with Dumbledore, he is a mere tool in the hands of the Headmaster. The only reason why someone like that is a teacher is to be kept an eye on.''
''Dumbledore always stressed that he believes in Snape's goodness or something like that.''
Voldemort laughed disbelievingly. ''We are talking about the same man here? No… no. Oh, I think he might want to let others believe it or even convince himself, but the fact that he keeps Severus away from the Dark Arts at every turn is telling enough. Why do you think he has never been allowed to teach Defence? Dumbledore has fallen into the conceit of purity: he strongly believes that deep down, you're either virtuous or evil. He labelled me evil the day we met, and thus no matter what I did, refused to give me room for forgiveness or for personal growth. It is the same for Severus.''
''And he believes that he is virtuous?''
''No Evan… the beauty of it all is that he struggles still. Dumbledore wishes to be virtuous in nature even when his own actions speak against it. The fool knows he has made grave errors, but is so stuck on this idea of good and evil, he cannot properly accept his own mistakes. In his mind, there's no way to gain forgiveness from others if those errors were really serious, so he denies his own. For him, it is not logical to just apologize for doing something less than desirable and then to not repeat it like a regular person. For if he'd admit to doing something bad, there would be no path to redemption anymore. Thus, Dumbledore spends his time either hiding mistakes or proving that whatever he did was never negative to begin with. That his actions were, perhaps, for a greater good… and therefore he did not actually do anything wrong. But as much as he tries to wash the stains off his soul and fool himself, Dumbledore knows that some of his actions were despicable, and that he would have condemned anyone else for it on the evil path. His greatest fear is other people discovering that too and casting their judgement.''
''Then I still do not understand why he keeps Snape close. If he believes only in those who are pure and those who are condemned, why keep an ex-Death Eater close? Would it not have been logical to send him to prison or something?
''What better way for a virtuous man to stay clean than letting those already condemned do their dirty work?''
Harry contemplated the words for a while. As much as he disliked the Headmaster for personal reasons, he wasn't sure if Voldemort's view was entirely accurate. ''It doesn't make sense to me… Dumbledore admitted a few times that he thinks he's made mistakes when it comes to me: by not telling me things quickly enough, and also by judging me for doing dark magic.'' Although, he thought to himself, apparently the man had told the Order not to trust Harry with information once again. He'd hoped that the last conversation he'd had with Dumbledore had established a bit more trust. It did not appear so.
''Perhaps, but are either of those things that anyone would have condemned him for? Protecting youth and being wary of possible threats? It's not hard to gain 'forgiveness' when one virtue is replaced by another.''
''I... see. It does make sense when put that way. The Headmaster… when he showed me the memory of your first meeting with him, he asked me afterwards, in apparent great confusion, if I felt sorry for you. On another occasion, he literally told me that you were beyond salvation.'' It had been very disconcerting to see how adamant the professor had been to get the point across that Voldemort wasn't human enough anymore.
Voldemort appeared on the platform next to Harry without having walked there. They stood shoulder to shoulder, the Veil waving in front of them. ''What did you say to that?''
Harry looked to his right, trying to judge the tone. Voldemort was tense, fingers clenching around his wand. In this form, Harry could actually see the knuckles turn white.
''I... erhm...'' he stuttered. ''I may have blamed him for that.''
That answer clearly hadn't been expected, for the Dark Lord gave him a disbelieving look, threw his head back and laughed. ''Sometimes, Evan, I curse your unfiltered mouth. In moments like these, I'm glad that even a couple of Cruciatus curses could not curb it.''
''Glad that I am amusing somehow.''
Harry jumped slightly as Voldemort's fingers were suddenly trailing down his cheek. ''Oh, you amuse me in quite a few ways,'' the man murmured, ruby eyes glittering. ''And I am sure that you will keep doing so.'' The hand fell away before he could even react to it. ''Now, I have one more question for you… Are your summer activities safe there? Or has Black changed his mind?''
Harry shook his head. ''All safe.'' He rubbed his arms. ''Though I worry about him. Sirius, that is. He keeps thinking I'm my father at the strangest moments. One minute, we're discussing politics. The next, he disappears in a past where I can't follow. Could it be some sort of spell? Magical influence from the Dementors?'' Sirius had wanted to instantly start with the Animagus training, but for all the wrong reasons. It had taken Harry ages to snap the man out of it and had been terrified that other Order members would see his godfather in such a state. Sirius had been horrified when finally realising where he was and with whom, and had advised Harry to just go to bed.
''Black was isolated for years in a place where all positivity was sucked out of him. Even without the Dementors, he was scarred by the loss of loved ones, had been betrayed by friends, and was locked up in a confined, cold space with little nourishment.''
''And yet he survived.''
''Indeed. Well, he had a few things that spoke for him. He could stave off going insane by focusing on that he was innocent in his own eyes, and by continuing to practise magic, using his Animagus form. Hardly anyone in Azkaban has that luxury. Dementors can pick up most attempts at wandless magic and punish prisoners heavily for it. Only Magic that changes the self is undetectable. Many others do not make it out as unscathed as Black did. His behaviour is mild compared to Barty's right after breaking out.''
''Barty is mostly fine now though,'' Harry said, looking up hopefully. ''Does that mean you know what to do against it?''
Voldemort raised an eyebrow. ''Of course. And considering that Black is my enemy, I will not say anything further on the matter. Don't give me that look, your godfather used to be one of the most ferocious and annoying people on the other side, first as an Order member and later as an Auror too. I am fortunate that the Ministry searches him still and that Dumbledore considers him too unstable to be let loose.''
''I'm not asking you to personally help him,'' Harry said, trying not to sound too pleading. ''Just a hint…''
He gritted his teeth when met with a disapproving stare ''I have nothing to gain from that. Now, I'm leaving… I'll check on you every once in a while. Only one more thing.'' A small, black box appeared in the man's hand. ''I did not get the chance to give you this.'' As soon as Harry took it, the room faded into itself, Voldemort disappearing with it. Only the feel of the box stayed, even after Harry opened his eyes to the cracked ceiling of the bedroom he now shared with Ron.
''What the…'' he muttered, sitting up and staring at the thing. As soon as he asked himself 'how', a memory of brine water and wet sand running through his fingers came to mind. He'd almost forgotten that baffling moment where Voldemort had forced a new law of nature into existence to send physical objects over dreams using magic. Harry felt like it was something he should not have forgotten so easily. Then again, the previous dream was also rapidly fading from his memory already, only the image of a large room, a strange arch and snippets of conversation remaining. There had been talk of Sirius and Dumbledore… The details eluded him. Sighing, Harry gave up, silently cursing dreams for being so unreliable, trying to ignore the aching in his chest as the familiar presence of the Dark Lord faded as well.
He checked if Ron was still asleep in case the package held something illegal. Soft snores broke the silence, signalling that the coast was clear. With only a hint of wariness, he removed the lid and revealed its contents: a pair of simple, round glasses much like the ones he usually wore, and a folded piece of parchment. Unsure yet about putting the new glasses on before reading whatever instructions or letter that accompanied them, Harry reached out for his regular glasses, pushing them on his nose even as he was already unfolding what turned out to be a short letter.
As I have gathered from several of your talks with Barty, I deduced that you have never been to an optician for more than once in your lifetime. It is no wonder that you complain about being unable to read teacher's instructions at Hogwarts or that you have headaches that cannot be linked to your scar anymore. As you, for reasons that elude me, seem fond of glasses, I have taken it upon myself to figure out your current prescription and gift you a replacement instead of fixing your eyesight. If you'd rather have that option instead, the offer is still open.
There was no greeting, nor a signature. Harry's lips twitched into a fond smile. He could practically hear Voldemort's aggravation rising from the ink about Harry's complaints of headaches, and about liking something so Muggle as spectacles. He switched one pair out for another, almost stunned at the difference. This was how everyone else saw? The only experience he had with someone else's sight was when ending up in Voldemort's head, and Harry had kind of assumed that sharp sight was just another magical quirk of the man. With his old glasses, he could see alright - certainly better than the practically blind state he was in without them – but this was on a whole different level. He could make out individual hairline cracks that ran across the entire ceiling, which gave him inexplicable joy even when rationally knowing that such a thing was cause for worry.
Hurrying, Harry dressed and went to the nearby bathroom on the corridor to inspect the gift, all the while clutching the letter tightly in his fist. From a first glance in the mirror, it looked like he had his old pair on still. Only when leaning in closer and studying details, did he notice that the sides had a fine pattern of scales. Of course. As if Voldemort would ever let an opportunity go untouched to make everything more serpentine. Still, it wasn't a change that anyone else would notice, Harry thought, pleased. The frame was exactly the same shape as the previous one and fit perfectly. Of all things that he'd ever imagined receiving from the Dark Lord, glasses hadn't been on the list. His only wonder still was why. There had been no occasion he could think of that warranted this. For his birthday, he'd already gotten a trip to France, surely Voldemort wouldn't give two presents?
It turned out that it wouldn't be the only gift for that day. As Harry had been unreachable by owl in the past weeks, everyone else who'd wanted to give him a birthday present had kept it. The day started with a homemade cake as breakfast from Mrs Weasley. Soon after, he was bid to the dining room where a small pile was waiting for him. It appeared that word had rapidly spread in the morning among the Order that Harry had arrived, for not only did he receive Quidditch merchandise from Ron and a book on Animagi from Sirius, Hagrid had also pressed himself into the room with baked goods that made Harry's teeth shatter only by thinking of them. There was even a pair of mismatched, self-made socks that had appeared out of nowhere. Harry and Ron exchanged a smirk, both knowing exactly who had made those. It did give Harry food for thought, as he doubted that Dobby had been included in the Fidelius charm. There was no reason for a specific house-elf other than Kreacher to have access to Grimmauld place. Could house-elves go through the wards?
''Any plans for today?'' Ron asked as he helped Harry carry the stuff up to the bedroom.
''You tell me. I doubt there's room here to practise Quidditch or play gobstones, is there?''
''Nah. There is a pretty cool Wizarding chess set downstairs though. Sirius told me I could play with it all I want. The only one who really plays with me regularly is Kingsley, and he isn't often here, so I hope you want to have a few matches? Other than that, there isn't much to do besides talking… Your holiday must have been a lot more exciting.''
''Uhuh,'' Harry hummed, letting himself fall down on the bed and wondering what to tell Ron. He really despised having to lie to his friends, thus chose to tell what he could. ''I've done a couple of cool things. Did you know that Merlin was buried in France? Allegedly, that is.'' He went on to describe the forest and village he'd visited. Ron listened attentively – he usually wasn't so interested in 'just talking', but Harry guessed that it was better than general boredom. After saying everything he could about the trip, Harry also told parts of Lughnasadh.
''I think I remember doing that,'' Ron frowned. ''The past years we just feed the goblins more and put some fruits out, but when I was small, I think we participated in a few community harvest feats with the Diggory's and Lovegoods who live nearby. Mum and dad were never interested much in old feasts though, it was mostly to connect to the neighbours. I think we had a huge bonfire and roasted apples over it or something. It's a bit vague. If I recall correctly, we stopped attending after Lovegood had hosted a Mabon party and went completely nuts.''
''I find it absolutely fascinating,'' Harry admitted. ''And wonderful.''
Ron shrugged. ''Dunno, I also like the way we celebrate things now. Whether we have traditional magical feasts or Muggle feasts, in the end we're celebrating it pretty much the same, aren't we? Different actions maybe, but the sense of family and friendship is what is most important to me.''
''From what I've seen, there's a certain soul to magical celebrations that Muggle ones don't. Like, even the versions we have at Hogwarts of Muggle feasts aren't really Muggle. They don't have Christmas crackers with live mice and spells in them. I find it all a lot more lifeless in that world.'' Having grown up with the Dursleys hadn't helped either. In fear of any dirt getting into the house, they'd always had plastic, sterile decorations, and Harry had been the one who'd had to cook elaborate dinners that he never got to eat.
''I wouldn't know,'' Ron said. ''Us Weasleys have been banned from all major parties.'' He smiled forcefully. ''Blood traitors and all that. So, give me the Muggle side of things any time.'' Harry didn't have the heart to tell his friend that most Muggles wouldn't look very kindly upon wizards and witches butchering their holy feasts either.
''Hey, I found out something,'' he said, trying to switch topics. ''I know that your mum is giving the Twins hell for using magic every second now that they are of age, so please do not let her catch you…. But Sirius practically confirmed to me that no magic within this house is traceable.'' Ron's eyes widened and he stared at Harry's wicked smile.
''You mean… I do not have to clean manually anymore? Or fold laundry?''
Harry grinned and nodded. ''As long as your mum doesn't see, yes.''
Ron pumped his fist in the air and did a victory cry. ''You are my best friend in the whole damn world Harry!'' he yelled, instantly rummaging through his trunk to fish out his wand. ''Ah, sweet sweet magic,'' he sighed, then proceeded to cast a couple of simple charms just for the heck of it. ''I need to somehow hide this from Fred and George too. And Ginny. Cannot trust any of them to not be snitches and hold it over my head to tell mum if I piss them off in any way. Curse siblings. Not really, but you know what I mean,'' Ron grinned happily, tactful as always in reminding Harry of the dynamics in his huge family.
''Right,'' the teen replied, unsure of what to say. ''Would you mind if I go search for Sirius? He wanted to help me with some magic.''
''Course not. Hmm, maybe I could tell Ginny,'' Ron muttered. ''Set her up against the Twins and get her on my side with this. If I ever slip up and she figures out that I kept it from her, I'll never hear the end of it. What do you think?''
''Sounds like a plan, Ginny is terrifying when angry.'' He left Ron to contemplations of the pros and cons of divulging this 'secret' to his sister, then set out to search Sirius. After starting about Animagi yesterday, things had rapidly gone downhill, but that didn't mean that Harry was about to give up. The book he'd received today on the topic was a pretty positive indication that Sirius didn't want to leave the it as they had, and neither did Harry. Turning into an animal was fascinating magic and could be dead useful with the correct form. Harry just hoped he wouldn't turn out to be a fish. He'd never, ever swim in bodies of water again without a wand on him for protection.
Sirius could not be found in any of the rooms that had been declared 'common rooms' where all members of the Order mingled and wasn't in his bedroom with Buckbeak either. As a last resort, Harry went to the drawing room where their talk had left off yesterday. Surely, his godfather hadn't spent the night there?
''I had a feeling you would visit here,'' a voice drawled as soon as Harry shut the door behind him. A soft click indicated that the exit would be a lot harder to use now.
Harry glared at Snape, who stood in front of the tapestry, looking as menacing as he did when surrounded by bubbling cauldrons and potion fumes. Harry wished that he had his old glasses on again, so he wouldn't see Snape's ugly mug so clearly. ''What do you want?'' he asked, uncaring about politeness. Even at school, Harry only granted the potion professor the minimum amount of feigned respect needed to not constantly land in trouble. Snape had no say over him here.
It looked like Snape had other ideas about that, for he snapped: ''Inside of Hogwarts or out, you will still address me with Sir.''
''Fine,'' Harry spoke, gritting his teeth, then grinned. ~Sir.~ The way Snape's face paled instantly was worth all the detentions he might get for this.
''You are an evil little brat,'' the man breathed, stalking closer until he towered over Harry.
''And unless you suddenly stop trying to poison students' pets or ignoring bullying that goes so far that students get hurt, you are still an evil man. What do you want?'' He had not a care for the burning hatred he was met with. As much as Snape was undoubtedly twitching to do so, here Harry's cheek would not result in suffering a Cruciatus curse.
''For all your gal, you refuse to meet my eyes,'' the man mocked. Harry tried not to fall for it, his instinct screaming to glare back at Snape to defy the man.
''If that is an attempt to trick me into casting Legilimency on me, it's a poor one.'' Now more than ever, he was glad for the snake fang he wore around his neck which protected him from having surface thoughts picked up by Legilimency without direct eye contact. He wasn't entirely sure if Snape was so skilled to also be capable of that, but if the git was good enough to be confident around both Dumbledore and Voldemort, it was better to be safe than sorry.
''My my, little Potter finally picked up some knowledge about real magic.''
''If you do not tell me what you want,'' Harry said with barely concealed anger, ''Then I will break down that door by force to get out if must be. You may have the power to insult me all you want to at Hogwarts, this is my godfather's home and I'm sure he won't be pleased to hear that you cornered me.''
''Right, I forgot that you have taken to hiding behind wizards more powerful than you as of late.'' Harry clenched his jaw and turned around, fully intending on marching out, when ropes wrapped around him and he fell over. It took every bit of his willpower not to meet Snape's eyes even as he was hauled to his feet again, ropes not budging an inch. A familiar flower with gold-tipped petals was pushed under his nose. ''This,'' Snape hissed. ''Where did this come from?''
Harry arched an eyebrow. That was what Snape wanted to know? ''I thought Voldemort-'' Snape grimaced at the name, which Harry really found very funny ''explained that pretty clearly. My mother created it.''
''The dead don't come back to life.''
''You're underestimating what a Dark Lord can do. She was very alive for a few minutes. Alive enough to even use magic.'' Harry closed his eyes and breathed deeply through his nose, pained at the memory. His wish had brought him the most joyful and painful moment of his life in the span of a couple of minutes. When he spoke again, he could not conceal the tremble in his voice. ''If you didn't believe him, I don't know why you bother speaking to me about it. You've made it very clear in the past years that you don't care for anything I say or do. But know this…'' he did look up now, concentrating only on the memory of his mother and father on that fateful day, ''You should heed warnings of the dead.'' Harry felt an added presence to his mind. It was not as overwhelmingly painful as the Dark Lord's, it did not rip through his skull and leave him in shambles. Snape invading his mind was like a sharp, precise sting of a needle: there and gone in an instant.
XxX
A short dive into Potter's muddled brain had been enough, the second in which he'd seen the memory he'd wanted to was stretching a lifetime and beyond. He'd been Potter, wrapped in Lily's arms, seeing her brilliant, lively green eyes and hearing the soft whispers of her familiar voice. Snape created distance between himself and the boy, her son, the ropes vanishing as his concentration broke entirely, control over his own magic slipping. Only she had ever been able to accomplish that even better than all the Dark Lord's torture.
''Lily…'' he breathed, cradling the flower to his chest. All hopes and fears had been realised in that single moment. It didn't even matter that Potter was watching, all of his thoughts concentrated only on the woman he loved. The impossibility that he'd wanted to deny could be shunned no longer: no trickery or illusion could have been used. She'd been alive…. And died once more.
''You've got your answer. Can I go?''
Severus didn't care to react to that for a moment, chin still lowered to his chest, lips at the gilded flower. Only when he heard Potter let out a frustrated growl and brusque footsteps told him which direction the other was going, did he call out. As much as he loathed this stupid, arrogant boy, they needed to talk. ''Wait.'' Severus made sure to keep his tone as neutral as possible to not irk Potter further. It wouldn't do any good to antagonise him at the moment. He would shove his hatred aside… as long as Potter returned that courtesy. Neutrality was usually a safe ground in any conversation. ''Those words of warning…'' He supressed a shiver as they went through his mind again and again.
…a reminder that I am always watching, and he had better fear my wrath if he does not move on from bitterness…
''Look, I didn't ask for my mum to involve you in any way.'' Potter started in a harsh, impolite tone that rubbed Severus the wrong way instantly. ''I'd rather she hadn't left you a message at all. I get that you had a history with both of my parents. I'd very much like to leave whatever it was in the past. I'm only at Hogwarts for another three years and don't particularly care anymore if you treat me as badly as you have till now. Don't force yourself to move past bitterness or whatever if you wouldn't do so without her words. It being forced pretty much defeats the point.''
He balled his fists, seething at the words. How dare this child! Had he really just said that Lily's wish was to be ignored by the both of them? How laughable! He rose from the floor again and glared at the boy. His mind was racing, trying to find the best approach while also analysing what he'd seen before. Plans for revenge had dissipated into nothingness. The Dark Lord hadn't lied when claiming that Lily had seen the errors she'd made in life. To think that both she and James Potter would encourage their son to stay at their murderer's side was baffling… he did not have too much time to ponder on it now, Potter was moving again, impatient brat that he was.
''Why did you join the Dark Lord?'' he asked to prevent the other from leaving. There was no doubt in his mind of the boy's true allegiances, not anymore. He may have shown himself at both the Dark Lord's house and the Order's headquarters, their Lord had staked his claim. If he'd seen so easily through Severus' own guise, surely Potter would never have been able to fool him. More than that, even this one short glimpse of a memory was enough to show that much had gone on behind the scenes without his knowledge. The Dark Lord didn't comply to requests of performing draining magical rituals for just anyone. It had been a shock to see Potter there the day before yesterday. The fate of their entire country had shifted with it. As much as he loathed to admit it, both Dumbledore's and the Dark Lord's plans had entirely different outcomes depending on whom Potter supported.
''He is the better option for our kind. He was chosen as a Lord and-''
A mirthless laugh cut off the upcoming rant instantly. ''No-one joins a side out of idealism only.'' Severus scoffed, giving him a haughty look. Did Potter really think he'd swallow such a thing? ''With how carefully Dumbledore kept you to his side before, I cannot imagine you to first have received those ideas and then ran to the Dark lord instead of the other way around. He killed your parents, tried to kill you on multiple occasions, is a danger to most of your friends at school. That should have been enough to never to listen to a word he says. What are your motives for following him?''
''If you expect me to spill my heart out to you of all people…''
It was highly irritating how uncooperative Potter was being. ''I need to know if you joined for foolish reasons or not,'' he pressed, speaking slowly in the hopes of getting through. Why were children always so short-sighted? It wasn't as if he'd have much choice in protecting the boy due to that cursed Vow he'd taken, so Severus had to make sure that Potter wasn't about to run on the first hint of violence, back to the safety of whatever coddling family Dumbledore had left him with. He realised from Potter's glare however, that his opinion of seeing nothing more than a stupid little boy before him, shone through a tad much, so he added bait. ''If you tell me, I'll tell you why Lily sent me that message.'' Ah, there was the famed hint of piqued curiosity that people always had when falling for tricks. A few seconds trickled by, after which Potter started to speak with much reluctance.
''After being introduced to this world, I only ever heard how evil Voldemort was from everyone around me. It painted the picture of a monster set on destroying everyone who wasn't likeminded. This was enforced by most teachers at Hogwarts, the wizarding families I met and to an extent even by the Dark Lord himself. At the same time, I got the idea from everyone I spoke to that it was my responsibility to handle, and was not contradicted in that thought, being praised and rewarded both times I stopped Voldemort's plans at Hogwarts. So when I saw an opportunity, I decided to destroy the Dark Lord once and for all. It all came crashing down the instant I met the man and had the chance to speak to him. I know now that good and evil are relative terms, that he has reasons for most actions that I can stand behind. So yes, idealism is actually a large part of why I follow him. As it should be in my opinion. I'm not just running to whoever I think is favourable for me at the time. I know very well that Voldemort can destroy me at any moment if he decides it is better that way. That won't make me flee to Dumbledore instead, not anymore.'' He stopped, and Severus gave him an unimpressed look once it became clear that he wouldn't receive more information.
''Come now Potter, you can do better than that. If you'd turned out to be a little Death Eater, I might have believed that was all there is to it. But you commanded his familiar, partook in a celebration granted only to his most faithful, he defended your honour.'' The words fell off his tongue like poison that must be spit out. The Dark Lord that Severus had had the misfortune of knowing in his youth hadn't defended anyone. Even his most loyal Death Eaters such as Crouch and the Lestranges had seen the wrong end of his wand more than once. The most gratitude they'd received had been a wisp of magic here and there. The way the man had spoken to them about Potter had been… disconcerting. As if he cared.
''I don't owe you anymore answers!'' the other retorted, clearly angry now.
''You did not give a satisfying answer,'' Snape responded. ''Until you do, my lips are sealed.''
''Fine! FINE!'' Potter practically shouted now, red in the face. ''You want the truth? I'm fucking DONE being used at every opportunity! Dumbledore wanted me to chase after the stone, Dumbledore wanted me to go after that Basilisk, Dumbledore wanted me to defy the Ministry! And you know what? I'd happily have done so if he'd asked me nicely! But no, I had to figure out afterwards that all of that was part of some stupid scheme to test me. At least Voldemort told me up front that he was going to put my name in the goblet of fire! I was sent off every year to 'protect' me against a threat that wasn't even pursuing me anymore even though I asked to stay at Hogwarts. I was met with ridicule and whispers everywhere the second I dared to step out of line in my role of everyone's hero. EVERYONE put their expectations on me, even YOU, Snape. Without knowing a damn thing about me, you assumed I was just like my father, never bothering to look further. Guess who did? Guess who gave me a place where I felt SAFE and WANTED!'' Potter sucked in a breath in a poor attempt to hide a sob. He took the nearest object in the room -a rather ugly statue of a witch that Black surely wouldn't mind being smashed into pieces - and hurled it at the wall. Severus didn't move an inch, too disturbed by the answer he'd dragged out of Potter. ''It was him who finally answered my questions. It was him who told me everything that had been hidden from me all of my life. IT WAS HIM WHO ACCEPTED ME. If you think that is a foolish reason, then GO TO HELL!''
Severus stared down at Potter, who was huffing in rage. He despised people who could not control their emotions, especially if they thought using curse words somehow made their points more valid. Severus swore that Potter would pay for all of this impudence when they were back at Hogwarts. And yet… somewhere deep down, the words moved him. He too, had been given a way out of the hellscape that had been his father's home. In Slytherin, especially in the service of the Dark Lord, he'd finally been able to gain an ounce of respect from all who had looked down on him before. But no, no, Potter could not relate to that. He'd grown up far from any hardships, having become famous by Lily's sacrifice and reaping the rewards of that. Special treatment, attention, sympathy… ''So, you joined purely out of selfishness,'' he stated, reaching out for ridicule to squash the uncomfortable thought of that maybe, there was more to Potter than he'd thought. He enjoyed seeing the sparking anger in the boy's entire stance. He'd never been able to rile up James like this, always being the one at the short end of the stick when it came to the bully. ''How typical,'' he sneered, starting to circle around Potter. What he hadn't expected, was for the boy to laugh at his answer. ''What,'' he snapped.
''You speak of selfish reasons? When the sole motivation for your actions in the past years has been a woman who didn't love you back?'' Balling his fists, Severus decided that Potter wasn't worth taking the bait, as much as he wanted to hex the insolent boy ''And what is worse, I don't think you ever cared as much for my mother as for your idealism of her. You pleaded for Voldemort to spare her life, uncaring about the lives of people she would have wanted to protect. Even now, you are not doing what she wants, you do what you want and try to peg it on her.'' Severus had had enough and raised his wand, pointing it threateningly at Potter, then halted as something occurred to him. Those words… the accusation reminded him far too much of that fateful conversation with Dumbledore. With all the self-control he could muster, he dropped his arm again. It may be time for the truth to come out.
''I vowed to protect you,'' he spoke with loathing. ''Dumbledore forced me into his servitude by making me vow to look after you, Lily's only child. Had I not known of your allegiance to the Dark Lord, it might have killed me.'' The shock on Potter's face might have derived him pleasure, were he not occupied with his thoughts. Letting the boy in on this could be dangerous, though the scales tipped in Potter's favour. Severus would not wish to be accused by a raging Dark Lord of withholding such precious information.
''Then…'' the boy continued with hesitance. ''You do not agree with Dumbledore's beliefs?'' Severus arched an eyebrow. In the current situation, he hadn't thought Potter would address that first. ''The only reason why you left the Dark Lord was because he killed my mother, and you stayed to uphold your vow?''
''Essentially.''
The boy's stance relaxed. ''That's good,'' he muttered. ''Now I also finally know the reason why despite your loathing of me, you tried to save my arse a few times. I always wondered about your motives. It all falls into place now. So… what now?''
What now indeed… he wished desperately to prove Potter wrong and listen to Lily. Yet how could he, if it meant throwing out all emotions he connected to the annoying brat, to both Harry and James Potter? Leaving bitterness behind would mean to change being who he was. Admittedly, a few words rang true: if it was forced, what was the meaning?
''Before I answer that, I want to know one more thing,'' Severus spoke. Something didn't sit well with him. Why would Potter need a place to feel safe and wanted so desperately that he'd run to the most terrifying man in the country? As soon as that thought entered his mind, other discrepancies in his idea of Potter surely being a spoiled brat flickered to life. Black, rambling a few times to the Weasleys that he wanted to apply for custody should he ever be cleared. A couple of Weasleys coming to Hogwarts instead of Potter's legal caretakers. Dumbledore, avoiding any questions from Snape about it right after Lily's death. ''Who are your guardians?''
''My magical or my Muggle ones?'' Potter asked, clearly thrown off by the question. Severus froze.
''Muggle?'' he asked, more a disbelieving repetition of the words to process them than to give an answer. Potter took it as one nonetheless.
''I don't see why it matters to you, but Dumbledore stuck me with the only family I have left.'' The tone was neutral. Far too carefully neutral and entirely unlike Potter. It was as if Severus had tunnel vision that zoomed in on all little out-of-place details. Nails dug into the palm of Potter's hand, arms twitched as if supressing the urge the cast them in front of him in protection, there was a slight hunch in his back that hadn't been there before.
Potter may as well have cast a Cruciatus curse on him.
''No…'' Severus rasped. ''Tell me he didn't give you to Petunia.''
The way Potter's eyes widened were almost comical. ''You know my aunt?''
Severus didn't answer. The way Albus had avoided all questions apart from a 'he is safe and protected'… Of course the old fool had put him with Petunia Evans. Hadn't the Headmaster once spoken of his theories on the 'power of love'? Severus had ignored it back then, casting it aside as the ramblings of an old man. Lily had sacrificed herself for her son. Petunia was her only living blood-relative. Severus balled his fists, striding past Potter and exiting the room, feeling as if he was suffocating.
Petunia… a nasty girl through and through. Jealous, filled with hatred for everything she could not obtain. She's been the reason that Lily hadn't been able to make any friends besides Severus. She'd attempted to isolate Lily, had hurt her, rejected her… all because of magic. Acid rose in his throat. He knew all too well how Muggles could be, it was the main reason why he'd joined the Dark Lord in the first place.
Shattering plates at the wall, shouts that shook the room as Severus tried to creep into a corner, large hands that dragged him back, pain, pain.
His carefully crafted mind was falling apart. Severus was the last person to admit that he cared about children in general, and he'd never have applied for a teaching position if it hadn't been forced upon him. Choice or not, he was a teacher now, and taught in the only way he knew, usually by shouting at those dunderheads when they messed up to ensure they didn't repeat their mistakes. It was worlds apart from the senseless violence caused by those who were supposed to give one a home. There was no doubt in his mind of the person Petunia Evans would have grown up to be. The person that Lily's child, a child he'd sworn to protect, had been raised by.
It was a miracle that Potter had survived.
This changed everything. As quickly as he could, Severus left Grimmauld place behind him to be alone with his thoughts, without those green, accusing eyes on him. One thing was absolutely clear… Dumbledore had lost Potter the moment he'd handed him over to that woman.
XxX
''What just happened?'' Harry muttered to himself. The door that had flown open for Snape didn't give any answers. Deep in thought, Harry sat down on one of the armchairs. So, Snape knew Aunt Petunia… Harry slapped his forehead. Snape and his mum had been childhood friends, surely Petunia had lived in the same house as Lily had. From the way his professor had reacted, Snape finally had an accurate idea of how amazing Harry's childhood had been. Apparently, Petunia hadn't been much different when she'd been a kid… If this development was for better or for worse remained to be seen.
Harry was mostly glad to finally have some answers that Voldemort hadn't been able to give. Snape had said he'd made a vow to Dumbledore, and not having known that Harry was on Voldemort's side could have led to his death. Barty had mentioned an unbreakable Vow once, perhaps that was what Snape had used? It explained a lot. The way Snape had attempted to save him on several occasions had been very strange considering that Harry knew the man hated him through and through.
That didn't mean that he was happy about having to deal with Snape in the first place. Harry had become rather good at avoiding the man and suffering through Potions in silence. He was even pretty sure that he'd drop the course after fifth year no matter what his OWL grade in it would be. Hopefully, the potion master running away was a good sign of that he wouldn't bother Harry any further until returning to Hogwarts. Why couldn't his parents have left a gift and encouraging words for Sirius instead?
Speaking of Sirius, Harry still didn't have a clue where his Godfather was. He thought he'd checked everywhere in the currently liveable part of the house except a few private rooms. As Sirius wasn't allowed to go outside, his ideas were running out. Then, an idea struck him. Maybe Sirius was trying to avoid other people again and had gone upstairs, to the upper stock that hadn't been touched yet by Molly's cleaning rage. Sirius' old bedroom was there. Considering that Sirius fell back into past memories rather often, it wasn't unfathomable that he'd search out the place he'd holed up in before leaving this place behind.
Casting all thoughts of Snape out of his mind, Harry got up and continued his search, going up a narrow flight of stairs until reaching the topmost landing. It only led to two doors, which explained the high ceilings across most of the third floor. The first one was clearly Sirius', through the half-open door Harry could see gold and red banners covering the walls. When pushing the door open however, his godfather was nowhere in sight. Disappointed, and not wishing to snoop in the man's personal belongings, Harry was about to turn around when his eye fell on the other door. There, a sign hung:
"Do Not Enter Without the Express Permission of Regulus Arcturus Black"
With bated breath, Harry went closer. Behind here lay the domain of Regulus, a man he'd only heard vague hints about from Sirius and Nagini, both telling an entirely different story. From what little Sirius had revealed, he thought of his younger brother as a foolish idealist who had gotten in over his head into the war by becoming a Death Eater and gotten himself killed. According to Nagini however... Whispers of Regulus in Voldemort's voice sounded through Harry's head, almost as loud as Harry's beating heart. Did he dare...?
The doorknob was old and rusty, giving way with a screeching sound as it turned. Stepping over the threshold, Harry was met with the absolute antithesis of Sirius' bedroom. The Black family crest was painted on one wall, snake motives in silver slithered over another, spells still active even after such a long time. They circled around what looked like a collage of newspaper clippings. When Harry studied them, he saw they were all about Voldemort, painting the story of his rise to power. Only a single one actually held a picture of the man himself, slightly blurry and far away, as if the reporter who had taken it had been running for his life. Despite the quality, it had been placed dead centre. From the dates on it, Harry could see that Regulus had already been obsessed with the Dark Lord's revolution since barely starting Hogwarts.
The rest of the room was disappointingly empty. Apart from the dust-covered bed, there were only a couple of heavy-looking closets, a vanity and an old drawer set. There were no shelves with trinkets on the walls, no books or other paraphernalia placed atop the vanity... Stepping foot in here to begin with felt a bit like trespassing. Harry wasn't sure if he could bring himself to actually rummage through. He glanced towards the open door. It didn't sound like anyone would come up here anytime soon... He wrangled with his own curiosity, knowing from the start that he would ultimately lose. Had Regulus been just anyone, Harry would have walked out of here in an instant. Knowing that this was one of the few people who'd been able to bring forth positive emotions in the Dark Lord to the point of having had a relationship, changed the situation entirely. Trying to make as little ruckus as possible, Harry carefully opened one of the two closets first, wand at the ready in case anything was cursed. Ron had been strangled by robes after all.
Nothing happened, and Harry was disappointed to find indeed nothing but old robes. The second closet was more promising: it served as a book case, and as his fingers brushed a few of the spines clean, Harry mouthed the titles that captured his interest: Flesh-Eating Trees of the World, Bestiarium Magicum, Confronting the Faceless, The Decline of Pagan magic, Sub-Aquatic Botanical Mysteries, A Druid's tale... It appeared that Regulus had held an interest in the world around him and the history of magic. Well, that and an obvious pureblood complex, Harry saw as he reached a corner that was crammed with books about Genealogy, notable magical names and biographies of Pureblood witches and wizards.
He was just about to close the doors when his eye fell on a line of thin books in various colours that seemed to belong together and had no titles to speak of. With a healthy wariness that came with handling books in a house full of Dark Arts, Harry tapped one to see what would happen. After a few seconds of silence went by and nothing happened, he grabbed one of the books and slowly took it from the shelf. It appeared harmless, though the cover was as blank as the spine. Letting it fall open towards the middle, he took a peek inside.
August 4, 1976
Summer is quiet without Siri here. I still can barely believe that he left home last month. Mother's rage has calmed somewhat, and father has ceased all attempts of contact. I've heard he went to the Potters. Not surprising really, those Gryffindors corrupted his ideals through and through. Mother was right, Siri has forgotten that family is the greatest virtue in this world. I am torn on what to do. My parents declared him no longer family and burned him off the family tree. Did they not preach the evening he left that blood matters before all? He has the same blood running through his veins as I do. He is still my brother...
August 19, 1976
Mother is infuriating me! Here I was, trying to study for the upcoming year and now that isn't good enough anymore either! It is as if she's obsessed with me working double as hard now that she only has one son left. What good does it do to practise curses on whatever Muggle she drags in next if I cannot pass my exams?
August 23, 1976
I never realised how much I needed Siri... Whenever we both broke the rules, he insisted on taking the blame. How many times did I go up to my room while he got punished? I don't even know what I thought happened back then. Maybe more of mother's shouting, a slap on the wrist... My brother always found the courage to talk back even louder the next time. After I told Mother what I thought of her 'training', she went absolutely mad. I haven't been hexed so much in my entire life. I don't have Siri's courage, nor can I turn my back on everything. I need to find a way to appease mother, show her that I am still who she raised. I'll make my parents proud so I will never have to be punished again.
Harry closed the diary, disturbed by what he'd read, and looked up to the shelf, where at least seven more similar-looking notebooks stood. He took them all out and quickly flipped through. As he'd thought, each diary corresponded to a year, from 1972 to 1979. In quite a few, there were many empty pages left at the end in years that Regulus hadn't written much. Only a few, like the one in his hand, were filled almost completely. The very first entry of collection of diaries was on the first of September, 1972, and described Regulus' arrival to Hogwarts in detail, spanning multiple pages of all the impressions of an excited 11-year-old. One quick calculation later, Harry glanced at the one of 1978, figuring that Regulus and Voldemort had most likely been together when Regulus had been of age. It did make him wonder when the betrayal had happened. He could vaguely recall from the Black tapestry in the drawing room that his death had been marked in 1979.
Unable to resist, he took the one from 1978 in his hands and leafed through it, stopping at a random page.
November 19, 1978
I finally understand why people say that death by frostbite is bliss. I would gladly wander the poles to recreate what I had today. It felt like an arctic storm, biting and stinging, my ribs cracking under the pressure of his hard, icy arms as he thrust his-
Harry slammed the book shut, very aware of the blood that had rushed to his face, cheeks hot with embarrassment. He only had himself to blame of course, there was a reason why diaries were private. After some debate, the teen still decided to take them with to his bedroom. He felt a strange connection with Regulus. Perhaps because they'd both been close to Sirius, perhaps because of Voldemort, Harry couldn't really tell. He was mostly fascinated about how someone who had been so worshipping could have changed his mind in such a short time. If Regulus and Voldemort had still been... intimate at the end 1978, he couldn't imagine what had all happened after. Then again, Harry had also basically switched sides within a month.
He had a last look around, figuring that whatever was in the other drawers could wait until he was finished reading the diaries -especially if there were more entries like the one of before, which he would most certainly skip-. ~Goodbye~, he whispered to the moving snakes on the walls, taking the small stack of books in his arms.
THUD. THUD.
A loud sound made him look up in alarm. Had he knocked something over? No, that couldn't be, he hadn't even moved... The thudding was repeated and Harry, distressed about someone finding him here, taking diaries that he probably wasn't supposed to have, tried to locate the source as fast as humanly possible. Dumping the books on the bed for now, he crossed the room with quick steps. The vanity was shaking, and the loud noises appeared to come from the drawers. Harry pointed his wand at them, then quickly drew both open at once, prepared to counter anything that would jump in his face.
The sounds stopped. The drawers were filled with all sorts of antiquities: silverware, jewellery, strange objects... Harry somehow doubted that all of this had belonged to Regulus. Was this one of Kreacher's hiding spots to counter Mrs Weasley's purge? Harry's eyes were drawn to one object in particular, an emerald-encrusted locket. A very familiar locket.
It was the same one that had hung around the neck of Merope Gaunt in one of the memories Dumbledore had shown him. Her father had dragged her over to the Ministry worker by the chain, almost choking her while proclaiming it had belonged to Salazar Slytherin.
As Harry's hand hovered over the innocent-looking object, he could feel dark magic, hanging thick in the air. He knew this magic too… it was the same that ensnared him each time he came close to the Dark Lord. Harry took a step back, breathing heavily. This had to be another Horcrux, he was sure of it. He'd seen many others last year during rituals in which he'd had to connect to them. Then, Voldemort had always been there, watching in case anything went wrong, as they were volatile pieces of magic with a mind of their own. Tom Riddle's diary was a prime example. It appeared that they could only be supressed when another mind was present, as was the case with both Harry and Nagini.
Hesitant though he was to touch it, Harry was aware of that leaving it here wasn't an option either. Who knew when these rooms would be cleaned out as well. With Sirius' attitude of wanting nothing to do with most objects in this house, it could well be that the Horcrux would callously be sold or thrown away. Only one real option remained: he had to keep it safe until the next time he'd see Voldemort again. Putting it in his trunk was not going to work though. From experience, he knew that Horcruxes would somehow end up in the hands of someone who'd actively use it if they had the chance. It may well be that it had been this thing that had lured him into Regulus' bedroom in the first place, just like he had been the one to find Riddle's diary after Ginny's failure in flushing it down the toilet.
Decision made, Harry grabbed the chain, figuring that merely touching it shouldn't do any harm. It had ended up here somehow. Regardless if it had been Regulus or Kreacher's doing, someone other than Voldemort had touched the locket before, significantly reducing any danger of possible curses taking effect now. The metal was cool beneath his fingers as he cradled the vessel. Had that just been his imagination, or had the chain moved, now snugly wrapped around his fingers…? Casting that thought aside, he put it around his neck and slipped the locket beneath his robes. Thankfully, the collar of standard robes was high enough, and the chain long enough, that even the gleaming links were largely out of sight.
Wasting no further time, Harry gathered the books again and left the room, closing the door behind him.
Sooo, the ball of adventure is starting to roll again ;P Snape is conflicted, Voldemort is busy, and Harry not only finally receive his birthday present, but also a couple of other interesting things...
One question: how interested are you guys in more diary entries of Regulus? I'm not entirely sure yet on how many I will literally show yet, so..
Please Read and Review!
xx GeMerope