A/N: Howdy everyone!
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Chapter 25
"You would risk your life so easily?" Croaker questioned, tilting his head slightly to the side.
Harry sighed and closed his eyes, relishing the soft plumage of Fawkes and the sleek, cold scales of Sasha beneath his fingertips. A small grin lit his face as he opened his eyes once more. "This is necessary so my life can begin, Croaker."
The Head Unspeakable studied Harry for several moments before finally giving a single nod. "You intrigue me, Harry Potter," he said before standing and beckoning. "Come."
Harry stood and followed Croaker out of his office, eventually being led to a circular room with many doors which spun like a centrifuge. Croaker held up his wand, which glowed briefly with a dim pale light, before the spinning ceased and the walkway they stood upon dead-ended at a door.
Entering, Harry found himself in a large, darkened chamber with several large stones scattered across the ground. Oddly, the ground upon which he stood appeared untamed, and the rocks sunk deep within the earth. Ahead, on a raised dais, was an archway with a veil that fluttered on an invisible breeze.
Harry's breath caught in his throat when he heard voices whispering, seeming to come from the archway. He strode forward unthinkingly, with Croaker pacing him. Harry paused outside the arch, almost swearing that he heard Sirius laughing behind the veil. He frowned and turned to Croaker who was standing with his hands folded within the sleeves of his robe.
"What is this place?"
"The legacy of the Peverell's," Croaker responded. "Your legacy, Lord Peverell."
"I don't understand," Harry admitted softly.
"The Tale of Three Brothers is a partial truth," Croaker explained, his voice echoing within the chamber. "You stand in The Death Chamber itself. Tell me, what do you hear?"
Harry hesitated to respond, the voices still whispering just beyond the veil. "I hear voices."
"A proof of your legacy," Croaker nodded, as if he anticipated the answer.
Harry pursed his lips as his Ravenclaw brain began dissecting what little information he'd been given. "The story claims the three brothers encountered Death at a bridge… There was never a bridge, was there?"
"No."
"The brothers found this arch," Harry gestured.
"Yes."
"But what is it?" Harry pressed.
"Unknown," Croaker shrugged. "Those who have passed through have never returned. We have discovered that those who hear voices usually have experienced a vivid encounter with Death."
"Has anyone been able to communicate from the other side?"
Croaker shook his head. "No."
"What is the story of this place?" Harry gestured around him.
"The true history of the three brothers involves, as you ascertained, this archway. Centuries ago, Death enticed travelers through this veil, taking them to his realm. The Peverell brothers, all Wizards of renown, saw through the illusion and Death rewarded them, as told in the story."
Harry absently fingered his invisibility cloak and hummed.
"Later, the Ministry of Magic built its headquarters atop this Chamber, hiding it from the world while creating the Department of Mysteries. Hence, my fascination with the Peverell name and their claim to be Masters of Death."
As Croaker finished, Harry stared at the veil, reveling in the silence he sensed the other side presented. Slowly, he had been able to mute the constant whispers in his head, relegating them to an ignored corner of his mind.
"Presented with the realm of Death itself, do you find second thoughts running through your mind regarding your intended path?" Croaker questioned.
Harry pondered the question for a moment, but found he had no intention of turning away. For the first time in his life, he was the one making decisions that dictated his life. He knew the prophecy. It would never end so long as he was a living horcrux housing a portion of Voldemort's soul.
If I fail, I'll at least be at peace, Harry thought sardonically. One way or another, I will be free.
"No," Harry finally answered.
-GU-
October 17, 1995, appeared on the screen. Harry stood in a small circular room with Fawkes perched on his shoulder. Sasha had been quite incensed that she could not be near her master during the ritual, but seeing as how Harry's magic directly influenced his familiar, Croaker had advised it would be far safer if Sasha was sent away.
"The ritual is simple in its execution," Croaker said in his monotone voice. "It is surviving that brings complications."
Harry shrugged off his robes and shirt, sitting in a chalk-drawn circle in nothing more than his boxers.
"Suggestions?" Harry asked, twirling his wand in his hand.
"Should you be able to cast a Patronus, the positive memories may aid you," Croaker shrugged.
Harry blinked. "Won't my magic be fluctuating too much to maintain it?"
"This room will be saturated with magic once you begin," Croaker waved away the concern. "That alone will sustain your Patronus."
Harry nodded and went to conjure a positive memory within his mindscape. It was far harder than he anticipated, what with his memories of Daphne being burnt to ash, and his memories of Astoria too painful to recall, as were his memories of Sirius. Several times, Harry attempted to cast the Patronus to no avail. He growled as Fawkes hovered above, singing an uplifting, mournful song.
Of course, Harry thought bitterly. It's not enough that everyone is out for my fucking life. Now my happiness has been taken too. Fantastic.
Images of the recent Potions class, Daphne's words, and his reaction, flitted through his mind.
It's always the negative memories that resonate with us…
Harry trailed off as a particular image within his mind gave him pause. It was Daphne's face, right after Harry had told her that she, of all people, should have known better.
Why did she look confused?
He furrowed his brow as he replayed the memory in his mindscape and studied Daphne's reaction, which he had hardly registered in the moment.
Confusion is not an emotion I would have expected to see. Smug, mocking, maybe even hurt. But confusion?
Harry's mind began to race as Croaker stood to the side while Fawkes continued to sing, the song soothing Harry's rising agitation about his inability to successfully cast a Patronus.
What if…?
The memories of Daphne, formerly burnt to ash, began to slowly reconstruct, all examined under a different lens. Harry's breath hitched when what was once his favorite memory of Daphne repaired itself and he slowly raised his wand. Choosing to focus on the emotion of the memory, rather than its occupant, Harry steeled himself.
"Expecto Patronum," Harry said softly, and a silvery, ethereal phoenix burst from his wand where it joined Fawkes in a mesmerizing dance.
A faint taste of strawberries lingered on his lips, causing them to twitch slightly. Harry exhaled, taking the memory, pain, and last vestiges of control with it as he gently shook his head. His Patronus flickered violently before stabilizing once more.
My family magic no longer binds me, Harry said with a small smile. It's broken. I am free.
"Your Patronus appears to have latched on to the magic of Fawkes," Croaker observed. "Fascinating."
Does it matter anymore? Harry thought numbly. Victim. Pawn. Agent. Can I ever go back?
He gripped his wand tightly in his hands, gritting his teeth.
No. I can't.
"I'm ready," Harry said.
-GU-
Daphne felt as if she had just been hit in the gut with a bludger. Every emotion on the spectrum seemed to have just run through her within a two minute span.
The despair and grief that Harry was no longer able to cast a Patronus. She watched him review the charred memories involving her and felt her heart shatter into a million pieces with each recalled memory.
The sheer elation at the possibility that Harry even suspected she had been influenced and was a victim, quickly morphing into a giddy joy when the memory of their kiss in Hogsmeade successfully channeled his phoenix Patronus.
And the agony when Harry admitted he could never go back, which quickly morphed into rage. Rage that was directed not at Harry, but at Cyrus, Draco, and whoever else was involved in what had been done to her.
They took my happiness too! Daphne screamed internally. He loved me! Me! And now it's gone! It's…
A bitter, anger-infused sob erupted from her, prompting Astoria to whisper soothing words she could not hear nor understand as the magnitude of it all fell upon her. Daphne wanted to hear Astoria say it would all be okay. She needed to hear it. But all she could hear were Harry's words. Words that damned any hope there was of salvaging what they briefly had.
No. I can't.
-GU-
"Enter your mindscape," Croaker instructed. "Find the foreign soul within and allow your wand hand to move externally toward the source. Once finished, exit your mindscape, channel your magic, and pull."
Harry took a deep breath.
"The pain is said to be unbearable," Croaker explained. "Once the link is made and the process initiated, to abort will result in death."
"I understand."
"Motivation," Croaker's voice interrupted Harry's preparation. "Should you succeed, the foreign soul can be placed within this container." Croaker held out an enchanted crystal box. "Once contained, we have ways of tracing the soul signature to other created horcruxes."
Harry cocked his head to the side as he considered the 'motivation', as Croaker called it. Finally, he shrugged.
"I don't much care what you decide to do," Harry said. "The only motivation I need is freedom from control. Magical Britain can burn for all I care."
If Croaker was offended by that sentiment, he did not show it. A single nod was the only reply Harry received. Satisfied he had been heard, Harry dove within his mindscape, quickly locating the piece of Voldemort's soul. Following the instructions, he was unsurprised to find that his cursed scar was where the parasite would be extracted.
A quick burst of magic secured the tether, and Harry felt a stabbing pain within his skull, forcing a grimace to his face.
Hurt worse when fucking Tom tortured me, Harry thought stubbornly.
Channeling that macabre energy, Harry began pulling his wand away from his scar. The pain, manageable at first, quickly escalated beyond the realm of description. Harry growled as he continued to tug against the seeming immovable parasite within his scar. Each motion caused a ripple of agony to wash through Harry's body and an unrealized scream to resound within the tiny chamber.
Harry's magic flared with each tug, filling the chamber and empowering his Patronus which, coupled with Fawkes' song, attempted to soothe him. The pain, however, threatened to overwhelm Harry and he felt as if a dementor hovered nearby as the soul shard of Voldemort resisted with each tug.
Harry grit his teeth as his chest heaved from the exertion. He felt something warm and sticky running down his cheeks and his vision blurred red. It took him a moment to realize his scar had burst open and was pouring blood mixed with a black, viscous fluid.
-GU-
Daphne clung to Astoria desperately as she watched the horrific memory. Harry's screams echoed throughout the Great Hall, and most turned away from the grisly scene as blood from his scar pooled around him, painting his entire body red.
"He's almost there," Daphne gasped and pointed as a small, writhing tendril appeared at the end of Harry's wand, separated by a thin blue strand of magic.
Astoria's body shook from the force of her coughs.
-GU-
You are weak, Harry Potter, a whispered voice, sinister and mocking, echoed in Harry's mind. The voice of Voldemort.
Get out of my fucking head, Tom!
Harry's hand inched forward, exposing more of the writhing tendril of Tom Riddle's soul.
You will die, Harry, Voldemort promised, although the voice sounded slightly panicked.
No. I will be free!
I will make them all suffer! Voldemort shrieked.
Harry gasped and convulsed as, with a final heave, his wand suddenly jerked forward, the soul shard attached to the tip. Croaker approached swiftly as Harry's vision darkened, and then all he knew was darkness.
-GU-
The screen faded to black, and the candles flared to life, causing everyone in the Great Hall to start at the abruptness. A cacophony of voices, steadily increasing in volume, began to emanate as the screen remained dark. Daphne blinked her bloodshot, puffy, bleary eyes and rubbed them in a futile attempt to clear the haze obfuscating her vision.
A haggard, heavy cough brought her attention to Astoria, who was gasping for air and wheezing. The black-haired girl's chest was rising and falling sporadically as she struggled to breathe. Daphne had been so distracted by the memories she had failed to notice when Astoria had lain down.
"Tori?" Daphne gently shook her baby sister.
"…Dap-!" Astoria gurgled and struggled to sit up, resisting when Daphne gently held her down. A raised, trembling hand pointed in the direction of the doors and Daphne followed with her eyes until she felt all strength and breath leave her body.
Daphne was exhausted mentally, physically, and emotionally. This, coupled with her concern for Astoria, had allowed her to completely shut out the chatter. She was unaware when the Great Hall suddenly went eerily silent, apart from Astoria's increasingly brutal coughs. She was unaware when the Great Hall doors swung inward on silent hinges.
She was unaware when Harry Potter, clothed in dark green basilisk hide robes and radiating an aura that was both tangible and visible strode through the open doors, Sasha, Fawkes, and Dobby at his side. The doors swiftly shut with an ominous finality, not allowing a single soul to escape the room.
Daphne inhaled, remembering to breathe.
Then she realized Astoria was no longer at her side.
"Har- *hac* -ry!" Astoria gasped as she staggered forward, blood stained her blouse and pants, her robes having long been abandoned on the bed she shared with Daphne. A hopeful, happy expression laced Astoria's face, despite the obvious pain she was going through.
Daphne nearly screamed when Astoria collapsed on the stone ground. Tears rained from her eyes when she watched her baby sister crawl forward with what little remained of her strength. Harry strode forward purposefully with measured strides, his magical aura flaring and swirling around him, mixing with the latent magic of Hogwarts itself.
His Hogwarts.
"Harry…" Astoria rasped and whimpered. A strangled sob escaped the shattered body of the girl as she felt her best friend gently lift her too-light body in his strong arms.
"It's okay, Tori," Harry smiled down at her.
Astoria laughed, sobbed, coughed, and growled all at once, resulting in her nearly choking to death. "Y- You b-bloody i-idiot!"
Sasha purred softly as she began to swell in size, easily growing tenfold until she filled the walkway between the tables. Students clamored and scrambled to get away from the basilisk as she hissed dangerously, fangs bared, and coiled around Harry and Astoria.
Harry conjured a bed with a wave of his hand and tenderly placed Astoria atop it. He pushed her matted, sweat-drenched hair from her face and placed a gentle kiss on her forehead, eliciting a sigh from the girl. Then he turned toward the raised platform the staff table sat atop.
Fawkes hopped from Harry's shoulder and landed atop the bed, cooing softly as Astoria weakly reached up to pet his plumage, still coughing. Each cough caused her body to jerk unnaturally, and her breathing was becoming increasingly weaker. Harry held up his hand, which held no wand, revealing a very familiar orb.
"The prophecy is null, Albus," Harry called.
The formerly blue orb, swirling with fog, was now empty and appeared filled with sand. When Harry dropped the ball suddenly, it shattered into a million fine pieces of glass and dust which was swept away on a cold wind that fluttered through the Great Hall.
"Impossible-" Dumbledore began.
"No," Harry interrupted. "I am only here for one reason, Albus. You see, I made a promise to Tori here, and I intend to see it through."
A soft, happy sob emanated from the bed near The-Boy-Who-Lived.
"But you have a key component required to do so," Harry informed coldly. "Yes, I know you possess the Elder Wand."
A collective gasp filled the room, and Dumbledore narrowed his eyes.
"You cannot defeat me in a duel, Harry, my boy," Dumbledore chortled and waved his hand dismissively. "I would hope you not foolish enough to try."
Harry smirked, as if he was privy to information even the great Albus Dumbledore knew not. "You seem to be under the impression the wand is won by conquest," Harry noted, and Dumbledore nodded with a smirk of his own. "That is true for any who are not a Peverell by blood."
Astoria gagged and began choking. There was a retching sound and then she could be heard breathing erratically anew.
"You see, Albus," Harry drawled lazily as he held his now-empty palm up and slowly drew his fingers into a position often taken by house-elves when they performed their magic. "The Deathly Hallows respond to blood first and foremost. The true Masters of Death are, after all, the Peverells."
He snapped his fingers.
"NO!" Dumbledore shouted, his hands clawing at empty air.
The Elder Wand spun end over end in the air toward Harry, who deftly caught it.
"And I am Lord Peverell."
Dumbledore reached into his robes and was hit by three red beams, causing him to slump back in his throne-like seat. McGonagall, Flitwick, and Sprout had all stunned the man the moment an opportunity presented itself. Harry noticed Snape sat unmoving, his eyes locked with Sasha's.
"Wise, Snivellus," Harry gave an impressed nod. "Had you intervened, Sasha would have killed you."
No longer paying attention to the staff table, Harry began hissing in parseltongue as Sasha swelled to even greater heights, eventually obstructing any view of Harry and Astoria.
-GU-
Daphne sat unmoving, wide-eyed, atop the bed she had shared with Astoria. Her mind was in disarray at what she was witnessing.
Harry was here.
Harry had come back for Astoria.
Harry disarmed Albus Dumbledore with a snap – a snap! – of his fingers.
He hasn't acknowledged me, Daphne realized bitterly. He hasn't looked in my direction.
Daphne clutched the bed sheets in her fists, chewing her lower lip and fighting back bitter tears. She longed to go to him, to explain everything, to tell him just how sorry she was. But she couldn't move, far too enraptured in what was playing out before her very eyes.
A chill, harsh wind swirled around the Great Hall, causing everyone to shiver. It was pale green and carried a sinister whisper as it continued to crescendo as time went by. The unnatural, hair-raising hisses could be heard bouncing off the walls as Harry continued to speak in parseltongue. Pale green flashes periodically illuminated the ceiling before rapidly dimming.
And then the hissing ceased, the wind retreated, and the flashes stopped. The basilisk shrunk, revealing Harry…
…and a very healthy Astoria, who was hugging him for all she was worth and sobbing happy tears as she hopped off the bed and began jumping in Harry's arms, ecstatic.
Daphne fainted outright.
-GU-
"You bloody idiot!" Astoria screeched as she began furiously banging her fists across Harry's rock-hard chest. He stood passively by as Astoria vented her frustrations. "Do you have any idea how sick this has made me?!"
"Well, you are healed now," Harry chuckled, earning him several slaps on the arm.
Astoria gasped, clearly realizing she'd forgotten something. "Daphne!" She looked up at Harry with watery eyes. "Oh, Harry! It wasn't her-"
"I know."
"W-what?" Astoria stammered. "You do?"
Harry shrugged. "I figured it out once I had time to review it." He tapped his forehead, where his faded lightning bolt scar was barely visible. "Once I got Tom out of my head, I found myself able to think much clearer."
Astoria gawked then shook her head. She took a deep breath, relishing how she could breathe and not feel pain. She felt so- so- alive!
"What does this mean, Harry?"
He stood nonchalantly as his eyes roamed over to where Daphne was still out cold. "You're cured," he finally said. "My last objective is complete."
Astoria's mouth wobbled as she tried, and failed, to hold back her tears.
"You're leaving, aren't you?"
He smiled sadly and gave a single nod. "Yeah, I am, Tori."
Astoria watched as he reached behind him and pulled the Marauder's Map, a carefully folded paper, and a familiar mirror from the cloak she could not see. Her vision blurred when he gently put them in her hands.
"Daphne's letter…"
"Tell her to get help, Tori," Harry instructed.
Astoria's skin crawled as Harry began hissing at Sasha for an extended period of time. The basilisk shrunk further than her usual size and Astoria balked and squeaked when Sasha began slithering up her leg and curling around her torso until her head rested atop her right shoulder.
Tentatively, Astoria reached up and stroked Sasha's head as she had seen Harry do. Sasha hissed, or purred, contentedly, her tongue flicking out and her eyes half-lidded.
"I'm leaving Sasha with you," Harry said, causing Astoria to gawk at him. "She will keep you safe."
Astoria nodded and tucked a stray clump of hair behind her ear. So much like her older sister, she chewed her bottom lip nervously, eliciting a chuckle from Harry. He gently placed a hand on Astoria's shoulder, startling her.
"It was weird, wasn't it?"
Astoria knew he was referencing their first kiss on the Express. She nodded.
"I do love you, you know," Harry said gently.
Astoria smirked and nudged him with her elbow. "I love you too, you dolt. Even though you are a bloody idiot."
Harry chuckled and shot her a lopsided grin that made her heart flutter at seeing him so relaxed.
"Do you want to come with me, Tori?" Harry asked suddenly. "I'm going far away from here," he added.
Astoria blinked and seriously gave the offer thought. Then, slowly, and reluctantly, she shook her head.
"I can't," she whispered in a small voice. "Daphne needs me, Harry, and I need to finish school." She looked up suddenly, panic evident in her eyes. "It's not that I-"
"Relax, Tori," Harry grinned, seeming so at-ease and peaceful. "I understand. To tell you the truth, I would have been surprised if you had said yes. I know I see you as my little sister, but Daphne is your big sister."
Astoria nodded and fidgeted nervously. "What about Daphne?"
Harry's expression hardened, his eyes glinting in the candlelight. "Some things can't be unsaid, Tori."
Astoria felt her heart break for Daphne. She wanted to protest, tell Harry he was wrong, that he was being unreasonable. How could she, though? She had seen firsthand everything he had gone through. The pain he had experienced. Could she honestly claim she would react differently?
"Where will you go?" she finally asked.
Harry exhaled and smiled a genuine smile. "Wherever the hell I want." Harry looked down at his watch. "It's time."
Astoria suddenly became aware of the other people still within the Great Hall. They were all talking loudly, having observed Astoria's healing and Dumbledore's disarming. She blinked confusedly and turned back toward Harry.
"They can't hear us, can they?"
"No," Harry shook his head. "I had Hogwarts place a barrier around us."
"Will you come back?" Astoria asked in a watery voice as Harry motioned Dobby forward and Fawkes landed on his shoulder.
"No," Harry replied adamantly. His expression softened as he regarded his best friend. "I love you, Little Lioness."
"Oh, Harry," Astoria sobbed and hugged him fiercely. "I love you too."
He ruffled her hair and took a step backward; Astoria noted he held the Elder Wand still.
"Do you still love Daphne, Harry?" Astoria asked gently.
"Goodbye, Astoria Greengrass," Harry responded, pointedly ignoring the question, and flicked his wand, causing the barrier to lower and the sounds of the Great Hall to overwhelm their small moment of privacy.
Screams of shock emanated when the body of Albus Dumbledore rose of its own accord, was swiftly bound with ropes, and adhered to the furthest wall. The old man stirred, and his eyes opened slowly as people fought to create distance from Harry and Astoria.
"Albus," Harry greeted cheerily. "It appears you've awoken." He turned to gaze at the gathered masses and smiled victoriously. "It's time for me to leave now. All I've ever wanted was to be loved, have a family, and live my life. Instead, I've been abused, trodden upon, and controlled." He sneered, "I've cast aside those shackles."
He pointed at the masses with the Elder Wand, causing several to shriek. "Now you can deal with Voldemort and his Death Eaters. You can deal with this corrupt Ministry. You can live with the knowledge that your prophesied savior has removed himself from the equation."
Harry lowered his wand and smiled as the doors behind him opened once more.
"Now, all I want is justice."
And then he vanished in a flash of phoenix fire as Amelia Bones, Head of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement, strode in with a contingent of Aurors and Croaker at her side.
-GU-
Muted voices rang out all around as Daphne slowly came back to the world of the waking. The voices increased in volume, causing her to groan and lethargically cover her ears. Her muddled thoughts began to coalesce into cognitive recognition as a singular voice pierced through her mental fog.
"Daphne!"
Daphne moaned and struggled to sit up as her eyes adjusted to the bright light, causing her head to ache. She glanced up through bleary eyes to see a group of people standing around her, many wearing Auror robes. The only two she immediately recognized were Professor McGonagall, who wore a sympathetic expression and…
"Tori!"
Daphne gawked as she saw her baby sister, for the first time in her life, look alive. Astoria's complexion was healthy and perfect, her skin practically glowed with vitality, and her eyes shone with pure relief. Astoria wasn't coughing, wasn't struggling for breath, and would have probably been bouncing on her heels for joy if it wasn't for the surprisingly morose expression on her face.
The memory of what had occurred, and why she passed out cold suddenly returned with startling clarity. Daphne gasped, tears filling her eyes, and looked at Astoria pleadingly.
"Harry-?"
"He's gone, Daph," Astoria said somberly, shaking her head. "I- I'm sorry."
Daphne bit her lip and nodded as tears leaked from her eyes. She tried to convince herself that she understood and that she shouldn't be upset. Harry deserved whatever happiness he could find in life, especially after what he had endured.
Just like I don't deserve to even speak with him, Daphne thought bitterly. Not after what I have done and spoke. I don't deserve forgiveness…
"Miss Greengrass?" A hand, gentle but firm, placed itself on her shoulder, squeezing comfortingly and pulling Daphne from her dark thoughts. "I'm Amelia Bones, Head of the DMLE. We'd like to take you and your sister in for questioni-"
"Absolutely not!" McGonagall bristled, her voice hoarse but stern and commanding. "Daphne has been through-"
"Calm, Minerva," Amelia pacified. "We're aware of what both these girls have been through."
"They have a psychopathic father who is liable to kill either one of them the next time he sees them," McGonagall countered. "I will not have them out of my sight!"
"Their father is in custody, as are the other Death Eaters shown in Mister Potter's memories," Amelia sighed wearily. "But you are welcome to come with them, Minerva." Amelia held up a hand to forestall McGonagall's immediate acquiescence, "But only if they allow it."
"Yes," Daphne and Astoria chorused instantly, earning a gentle smile from the deputy headmistress.
-GU-
November 3, 1995
Daphne sat in the St. Mungo's Hospital for Magical Maladies and Injuries waiting room, a vacant expression on her face. Astoria lay on Daphne's left, curled into a ball in the chair next to her, her head resting on Daphne's lap as her chest rose and fell with deep breaths. Sasha lay curled next to Astoria, her tongue flicking out occasionally. Daphne watched her sister sleep, marveling at how something as simple as breathing could bring such joy to her heart.
Astoria no longer coughed, she no longer wheezed or rasped, and she no longer had blood somewhere on her clothes or face. Instead, Daphne's baby sister wore a near-permanent smile which was only tempered by the harrowing news they'd received just a few hours prior; news which had them now waiting in the hospital Daphne was rapidly becoming all too familiar with.
At least Tori's happy, Daphne thought numbly.
Three days. That's all it had been since that dreaded Halloween night where the entirety of magical Britain had been rocked by the earth-shattering revelations Harry Potter had given through his memories. Daphne clenched her eyes shut, stubbornly forcing back the tears that seemed to be an almost constant part of her existence now.
She was so tired of crying.
News had spread like fiendfyre the moment the DMLE had allowed people to depart the Great Hall. Within a day, the magical world was reading about Harry Potter's life and the Dark Lord's return. Daphne had been surprised the DMLE allowed the story to break so quickly, considering all Harry had shown.
But the DMLE and DOM had worked in tandem alongside Harry, it seemed, to apprehend every Death Eater shown in Harry's memories. Additionally, they had Dumbledore, Snape, and the five Hogwarts boys in custody. This became public knowledge on the second day. Within forty-eight hours, the Wizengamot had been gutted due to over a third of its members being arrested and detained.
Among those detained were also the current Minister of Magic, along with his wicked Undersecretary. They were both being tried for high treason – rightly so, as far as Daphne was concerned. Amelia Bones was elected as an immediate successor and Rufus Scrimgeour was promoted to Head of the DMLE immediately after.
A new regime, with a zero-tolerance policy, was now running the country, and the spectacle was in full display with the upcoming trials that were now the talk of any news article in publication. Additionally, Amelia had brought back the death penalty with an overwhelming majority vote passed in the remaining Wizengamot.
This was all wonderful, and both Greengrass girls looked forward to justice being served, as it seemed that, for once, it would be. Then the reality of their situation manifested itself in a harsh, ugly way, starting with Daphne after Madam Bones had taken Daphne, Astoria, and McGonagall for questioning.
By the time it had ended, Daphne and Astoria both were dead on their feet. Astoria's temporary burst of vitality and energy swiftly translated to raw fatigue, and she slept like the dead through the morning and into the early afternoon. Before evening, McGonagall, who insisted they call her Minerva, took both girls to St. Mungo's.
The Mind Healers had been appalled and horrified by what had been done to Daphne and, after hours of deliberation, determined it would take months, possibly over a year, to unwind all of the alterations and controls. Daphne cried until she ran out of tears at that diagnosis, and readily accepted the twice a week healing sessions that were suggested.
The night of November 2nd was when Daphne and Astoria learned that their mum, Aria Greengrass, had been under the Imperius curse for over ten years. Minerva had shakily explained it was unlikely that Aria would recover her full faculties any time soon. If she did, it was doubtful she would ever be the same.
Daphne found she had not run out of tears at that revelation.
It certainly explained why Aria never fought for Harry and reacted so aloofly towards him on their first meeting. Minerva, their staunchest supporter thus far, worked tirelessly to ascertain where Aria was being treated, which was why they were now sitting in the waiting room at ten o'clock in the morning.
Daphne sighed and felt her breath hitch as she thought about yet another blow that had fallen on her and Astoria this morning.
Cyrus Greengrass had somehow managed to disown Daphne from her Heiress position, leaving it vacant. With Aria in a magical coma, that meant the Greengrass vault was no longer accessible by the girls. Disgusted beyond words, Minerva had sworn that Daphne and Astoria would finish at Hogwarts even if she had to fund them herself.
Daphne had thanked the wonderful woman and requested to go to Gringotts, where she quickly ascertained she still retained access to her trust vault. A quick transfer note was all it took for Astoria to now hold the trust vault in her name, and Daphne was comforted to know that her baby sister would not have to worry about money for the remainder of her school years.
I'll figure something out if mum doesn't recover, Daphne told herself. What's important is Astoria is taken care of.
"Daphne," an elderly voice, filled with compassion, said her name, causing her to look to her right to see Minerva McGonagall looking at her with a sympathetic expression.
"Yes, Professor?" Daphne replied dully.
"You should rest, dear," Minerva forced a smile that didn't quite reach her eyes. "I promise I'll wake you up when it's time to see your mother."
Daphne nodded and gently adjusted herself, careful not to stir Astoria who was drooling contentedly on Daphne's jeans. She closed her eyes and was surprised when she felt something wet streak down her cheeks. Automatically, her hand reached up to find several tear tracks.
When did I start crying?
Daphne felt wiry arms wrap her in a surprisingly gentle, yet firm hug. Daphne's shoulders bobbed as the first silent sob tore through her. Then the next. Through it all, Minerva held her and gently stroked her hair while Daphne tried to pick up the pieces of her shattered world.
After all, it wouldn't do to wake Astoria.
-GU-
"Your mother is still in a coma, dears," the nurse explained gently and quietly as Daphne and Astoria entered the sterile smelling room where another nurse was running diagnostic charms, muttering under her breath as her wand waved in intricate patterns. "There's always a chance she can hear you but will be unable to respond."
The Greengrass sisters nodded their understanding and approached. There was some initial hesitancy from the nurses regarding a literal basilisk being on Astoria's shoulder, but they were ignored as Astoria quickly grabbed her mother's hand and held it, sobbing quietly as she tried to cope. Daphne approached and felt revulsion rise in her stomach as she observed the sunken eye sockets of her mother, the pallid, emaciated body, and the thin golden hair that no longer retained its luster.
Astoria looked up at Daphne with sorrowful, wide eyes which were filled with tears and asked a simple question, in a watery voice, that caused Daphne's knees to buckle.
"Why does father hate us, Daffy?"
After assuring the nurse that she was fine, Daphne gratefully pulled herself into a conjured chair, her eyes blurry from tears and her throat choked with emotion. She swallowed several times before she was finally able to speak.
"I don't know, Tori. I don't know."
-GU-
November 10, 1995
Daphne sat in the Great Hall at Hogwarts, having returned to the school the day prior, stirring her oatmeal slowly. She didn't know why she was even bothering attempting to eat. Her appetite had fled her it seemed, and most times she had to choke down whatever was placed before her.
Astoria was still asleep, Daphne knew. Her baby sister reveled in her newfound vitality and decided she had years of sleep to catch up on. Daphne wasn't about to tell her off, either, having plenty of memories of Astoria waking in the middle of the night to retch blood or suffer a severe coughing attack.
Unfortunately, this meant Daphne was forced to eat alone, since the only student who would associate with her was Astoria. Daphne wanted to believe what Astoria posited as the reason for Daphne's ostracization: her baby sister had a big, bad, scary basilisk on her shoulder, courtesy of the man who had disarmed Albus Dumbledore with a snap of his fingers.
But she knew the truth.
She heard the whispers when no one thought she was paying attention. She knew the rumors that were passed along by soft-spoken voices in dormitories.
Daphne Greengrass was the girl who had broken The-Boy-Who-Lived– no, the Chosen One's heart.
Daphne Greengrass was the reason Harry Potter had left Magical Britain.
The worst part for Daphne? She couldn't refute a word they said.
Because they're right, Daphne shivered and dropped her spoon with numb fingertips. She bowed her head, allowing her golden blonde hair to curtain around her, hiding her face and expressions.
Once, Daphne had been considered an Ice Queen, expressionless on most occasions and always in control. Now? The veritable hellscape that was her mind, thoroughly ravaged by her father, prevented her from enacting even basic Occlumency. The therapy and healing sessions helped, of course, but it took time.
The result? Daphne wore her heart on her figurative sleeve, her emotions on full display. She tried to maintain a vacant expression but found it near-impossible when she experienced the isolation and vitriol her peers could employ. It was easy to draw comparisons between her treatment and Harry's former treatment in his second and fourth years.
It did not make accepting it any easier.
The bench quaked and Daphne did not need to look up to know Astoria had taken a seat beside her.
"Good morning, Daffy," the subdued voice of Astoria whispered.
Is it? Daphne asked herself. She sniffled and wiped her nose with the sleeve of her robe.
"Daffy, please look at me," Astoria begged.
Sighing in resignation, Daphne obliged and stared at her beautiful, healthy little sister. It certainly made her current plight easier to stomach, knowing that Astoria was going to live a long and wonderful life. She hardly noticed the basilisk that was a constant companion of Astoria. Sasha's tongue flicked out and barely grazed Daphne's cheek, causing her lips to twinge slightly.
"Thank you, Sasha," Daphne whispered.
"I've been meaning to give this to you," Astoria pulled a wrapped bundle from her robes. "I'm really sorry, Daph. With all that's been going on, it kind of slipped my mind…"
Daphne shakily reached forward and unwrapped the bundle, revealing a letter and mirror that she instantly recognized. She reached forward to pick them up but hesitated; eventually, she allowed her hand to drop limply into her lap.
"Harry said he wanted you to get help," Astoria whispered timidly.
"Wh- Whe- When?" Daphne stammered, her breath hitching with every attempt to say the word.
"Just after you fainted," Astoria hung her head. "I'm so, so sorry, Daffy."
"It's not your fault, Tori," Daphne croaked, her voice hoarse. She grasped the handle of the mirror and clenched the letter, her letter, in her hand. She stood and made to leave, ignoring the gentle hiss of Sasha and the hurried apologies of Astoria. "It's mine," Daphne said in a voice thick with tears as she swiftly made her way back to her dorm.
Once inside, she climbed on her bed, cast every privacy and sticking charm she knew on the curtains as she drew them shut, pulled her knees up to her chin and wailed.
She didn't go to her classes that day.
Later that evening, during dinner hour, which she refused to attend, Daphne sat upon her bed with puffy eyes and stared at the mirror which sat face-up at the foot of her bed. Astoria's words echoed in her mind as she tried to regain control of her emotions.
Harry said he wanted you to get help…
Slowly, Daphne withdrew her wand and leaned forward, tenderly grasping the mirror by the handle. She lifted it, revealing her disheveled hair, ruined makeup, and splotchy complexion. She raised her wand, placing the tip on the mirror as she'd seen Harry do dozens of times in his memories.
"Andromeda Tonks."
-GU-
November 14, 1995
Harry Potter double-checked his appearance one last time in the mirror and grinned, completely at ease and, more importantly, at peace. Fawkes squawked and preened as he sat atop Harry's shoulder, causing him to chuckle.
"Now Fawkes…" Harry drawled. "You know you can't be seen on my shoulder in muggle America."
Fawkes cooed sadly.
"Don't worry, buddy. You can hang out with Dobby, yeah?"
"Dobby enjoys The Fawkes' company!" Dobby exclaimed.
Harry smiled and nodded encouragingly at his house-elf friend, whose loyalty had been proven time and time again. Despite his trepidation at setting out on his own for a while in a foreign country, Harry found himself practically vibrating with excitement.
Two weeks – two weeks! – Harry had been deep within Goblin territory, having taken a private floo from Gringotts London. It was there he had been given a crash course in everything he could possibly need to know to live in the muggle world as a Wizard.
Additionally, he had received a fake American I.D. with his age adjusted to that of a legal adult. This, coupled with a laminated form that had a bunch of numbers which Harry now understood, allowed him to purchase, rent, or lease just about anything he desired. The Goblins had even given him something called a P.O. Box which would allow all his bills to be sent directly to Gringotts, who would take care of payment.
Being the Lord of five Ancient Houses meant Harry had more money than he could ever spend. While he fully intended to still exercise caution, a larger portion of Harry was desperately looking forward to seeing things he had constantly been denied as a child. Like the zoo, aquarium, ocean, mountains… The list went on for quite some time, and Harry was hellbent on seeing every item he'd noted.
Of course, there were some minor complications that Harry had been given a hefty explanation for. Because he was underaged, he couldn't engage in any relations with actual legal muggle adults. Should it ever be discovered he was, in fact, not a legal adult, then said muggles could find themselves in quite a large amount of trouble.
Not wanting to cause any issues, Harry quickly determined to ignore muggle women and instead focus on girls his age. Alas, another problem quickly manifested. With Harry being a 'legal adult', he couldn't engage in relations with girls his age, because then he would find himself in hot water.
This led to one conclusion which gave Harry pause: If he wanted to date, he had to date a Witch.
But did American Witches know about Harry Potter? Did he want to take the risk that his location became known? It was quite a conundrum, and one Harry had pondered for the past several days. But today was not a day for such musings. No, today was the day his life would truly begin.
So, with a pep in his step, Harry exited his room, took the designated international floo to American Gringotts, and was swiftly on his way to freedom. Fitting, seeing as he was now in America. He walked down the marble steps beneath his invisibility cloak and found a nearby apparation point, using a postcard Gringotts had provided to visualize his destination.
Arriving at his first stop, Harry gave a quick thanks to the Black family for teaching him how to apparate and pulled his cloak away. The sight of the ocean stole his breath away, as the large waves crashed into the beach, the salty air filled his nostrils, and a gentle breeze ruffled his hair. He smiled so large his cheeks burned from the strain.
His eyes quickly picked out a massive boat docked in the distance. Harry furrowed his brow as he went through his memories of his two weeks of courses on American culture and technology. Finally, it came to him.
"A cruise ship!" Harry snapped his fingers victoriously. He hummed in thought for a moment. "I think I know what I want to do first."
Harry began making his way toward the docks, taking his time. After all, he had all the time in the world, didn't he? If he somehow missed this ship, he'd get on the next one. There were bound to be hotels nearby.
About halfway there an idea came to Harry, and he ducked into a nearby alley where he quickly called Dobby who appeared with Fawkes. The phoenix chirruped happily and then appeared quite put-out when Harry explained that he'd only called Dobby. The house-elf happily provided the requested parchment, quill, and ink for his Master.
Scribbling a hasty letter, Harry handed it to Fawkes who, somehow, managed to look as if he raised a non-existent eyebrow. How the phoenix could appear so incredulous both baffled and amused Harry greatly.
"Can you just take that to Fleur Delacour, buddy?" Harry huffed while Fawkes continued to stare him down. "Please?" he finally pleaded.
Fawkes seemed to give a huff of his own but vanished in a flash of flame. Harry thanked Dobby again and departed the alleyway, intent on finding a hotel while he waited for Fleur's response.
She's already graduated Beauxbatons, anyways, Harry mused. No harm in seeing if she's still interested in pursuing something with me.
Harry crested a small hill and stared down at the massive cruise ship, a lopsided grin on his face.
He was free.
A/N: Okay so I posted this Chapter and then went and did an hour workout and came back to a slew of reviews thinking this is the end of the story... It's not. It IS the end of an arc (the Memories arc). The story continues next week... I probably should have posted a note before letting this chapter go live, but I keep assuming people have viewed my profile bio where they can see exactly what Chapter of Giving Up I am currently writing...
As far as plot points being unresolved... It will happen. It will all be explained. Just not right now. Patience, people!
See you next week!
Lord TMR