Yo! First of all, I apologize for the long and unexpected pause. I had some reasons for the first few weeks, but after that I just could not bring myself to write anything, idk why. Things happened, but it's fixed, so now I should be able to keep up with my previous schedule (I know I've said that many times already...)
Another big new is that this chap wasn't Beta'd for because my buddy Webstriker got caught up by his life and will be unable to check my chapters anymore. I'd like to thank him ojnce again for hios work up until now, without him, this story would probably not be as it is today.
About this chapter, I tried to use some AI tools check the grammar so it should be decent enough, however I'm currently looking for a BETA since AI isn't that reliable, so if you're interested feel free to PM me!
Now that the boring stuff is said, ENJOY!
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Sirius was nervous. He had not seen her for more than a decade, and he was now an escaped convict while she was the Head of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement. Even if Dumbledore told him she learned the truth and was on their side, he could not shake off his anxiety. They were never close, but she was still one of his best friend's girlfriend at the time.
He was sitting in her living room, his leg furiously bouncing. The rat was there too, on the ground in front of Dumbledore. If not for the latter's plan, he would have gladly strangled this disgusting traitor's neck with his own hands. However, with how the situation looked right now in the British wizarding community, the plan was a necessity. He had waited for twelve years; he could wait for more.
Amelia Bones walked in the living room in formal clothes. She threw a disgusted look at the rats, but Sirius could see the pain in her eyes. He knew the two of them had been together since they were in their seventh year. They were now in the same situation, except that for him, he discovered it years before while she discovered that her ex-boyfriend, who was supposed to be a war hero, was alive, and a traitor who sold off his friends to someone he calls his master.
He could understand her pain; he was the same. He did not want to believe that one of his best friends would betray them; even after being jailed, he still had a hard time believing it. He tried to come up with every excuse he could, but in the end, he could only accept the truth as it was. Now all that remained was pure hatred and desire for vengeance, and soon enough she would be the same.
"Black." Amelia nodded at him curtly. Her voice was ice-cold.
"Bones." He nodded back at her. They knew each other, but they were never close enough to call each other by their names.
"Now that everyone is gathered, I will explain what I plan to do next, but first." He waved his wand towards the rat, who was still not awake. "I merely made sure that he could not hear anything that we would say next. We never know."
Amelia, who was now sitting on her sofa, had directed her attention solely on the headmaster.
"As you might have understood, the media is not my strongest supporter right now. Nor is the Minister of Magic. It is my belief that it is mostly Voldemort's doing. He has high-ranking pawns all over the Ministry. From what I could gather, his objective is simple: he wants me to lose my credibility. So that he can prepare himself in the shadows without being bothered. And I have to say, it is very effective. Right now, he has the upper hand; he dictates how the game is played, when he wants to move, and thus when we have to react. It was the same fifteen years ago. I don't think I need to explain to you how it went."
"After thinking it over and over, I came to the realisation that reaction is not enough."
Sirius looked at Bones, and like him the first time he heard this, she looked stunned. It was understandable. Albus Dumbledore just said something that was the absolute opposite of what he had always advocated.
"My hubris made me think that I was the personification of Light. The perfect good guy you could say." He sighed deeply, something that had become a common occurrence for him nowadays. "Then I realised that I was, in fact, not. I was not good. I just avoided doing what is considered evil and occasionally did what was right. Now I see that I was blinded by my own ego, by the projection of myself that people threw at me. The leader of the Light, this moniker that I used to humbly reject, now disgusts me to the point that I burned all of the newspapers where I was mentioned like that."
"After my anger subsided, I understood that it was my fault and that to correct it, I should at least try to act like they want me to. For that, I need not only to avoid doing bad deeds but also to do good deeds. And that is exactly what Wizarding Britain needs right now—a face to confront Lord Voldemort. Even if they do not realise it yet."
Sirius did not realise he was gaping until his mouth felt dry. This was the first time he heard about this introspection. Hearing that coming from the most respected wizard in the Wizarding World was enough to put anyone to shame. If he felt like that, how were they supposed to feel? Sirius felt his ego trying to find excuses, but deep down he knew that he was also like Albus.
Being known as the only one in his family to not be a little dark mage in the making always felt great. His pride from being superior to his family also felt great. The only fact that he was not as evil as his family felt as if he did not need to be a good guy anymore. How could a prank compare to a Crucio? That was a sentence he always had in his head at Hogwarts. He remembered once in his fourth year Lily had thrown a tantrum because of a prank he played on her friend, and he casually answered that she should be thankful that he was not his cousin who would have actually maimed her. The shock on her face is still imprinted in his memory to this day.
Remembering those days, he felt shame, disgust, and anger at himself. He steeled his resolve to be a better human being, for himself and for Harry.
"My plan is as simple as Voldemort's; we use him," Albus resumed, his finger pointed towards the rat. "To acquit Sirius."
Amelia frowned, just like Sirius did when he was told the plan. "Not to be rude to Black, but what would a free Sirius Black help us more than a wanted one?"
"You may know that jail does not strip one of his titles as Head of a family. And Sirius Black, by the lack of any other contestant, is the Head of the Black family. As you may have heard, the Black family became what it is thanks to investments. Their bad reputation comes, among other things, from their investments in everything, be it light or extremely dark magic. These investments also include loans, and lots of prominent wizarding families in Britain are indebted to the Blacks. Magical debts are not forgiving, the moment Sirius is free, most of the families will want to be in his good graces whatever the cost."
"What about making him confess about You-know-who?" Amelia's face was filled with disgust.
"You saw Cornelius; he might deny it even if Voldemort presents himself in front of him. He will want to dismiss it at all costs and, and by the same occasion, dismiss Sirius' acquittal. We need allies before revealing the truth about Voldemort. So, Cornelius has no other choice but to accept the truth."
"And after that, it will be war."
Silence dawned upon them after Dumbledore's last sentence; memories flashed inside Sirius' mind: bodies, blood-demolished houses, and even more bodies.
"Of course, this is only the outline," Albus said, cutting through his flashbacks. "For each step has to be thought through and through so nothing goes wrong, and that Voldemort has no time to react."
"Why tell us?"
This was a good question. Since Albus told him his plan, he always wondered why he did not tell anyone else and also why he did not keep it for himself like he always did.
"I made mistakes." Albus' voice seemed drained, and his eyes looked dim. "Year after year, I thought I was becoming wiser; I thought I was the wisest wizard alive. However, reality is harsh; it keeps me in check. I made mistakes I should not have made, and I realised that I was merely arrogant."
"Arrogance often stems from isolation, and I have been alone for so long that I forgot how to not do things alone. That is why I need you two to stand beside me and help me not repeat my past mistakes." Sirius averted his eyes from the tear dropping down on the old man's cheek. "I honestly am not sure I will be able to manage alone again. I may have been Grindelwald vanquisher once, but now I am old, and being old means giving up my past. I am not who I used to be."
"An old friend once told me that strong people do their best to not pick up responsibilities, and by refusing the Minister post, I thought I was being strong. However, I was just deluding myself, refusing this post, and taking lots of others. That friend also said that strong people do not flee from their responsibility once they have it, whether they like it or not. Now I understand what my old friend meant. I do not want to be the head of this war; I do not want to be responsible for people's lives, but I know I must because I know what I represent for people; I know my influence over them."
"I will try my best to be a strong man, and I hope you both will stand with me."
Once again, silence dawned upon them. For a few minutes, no one said anything.
"I'm in." Suddenly, Amelia Bones' determined voice rose firmly. Her eyes had a fire within them; Sirius knew this fire because he saw the same in his eyes.
"When do we start?" He had already accepted Albus' plan days ago, but he felt he had to say something in this instance.
"Thank you." Albus' weak voice said. "As soon as possible, Voldemort should have noticed his subordinate's disappearance by now. We should not give him too much time to think."
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"I didn't expect that." Chaos pondered. He just exited his protege's nightmare. "That was not supposed to happen; then again, it's a first in history."
There had not been lots of Horcruxes makers throughout history, and even fewer universe travellers, so Chaos could only hypothesise what would happen. And even with all his knowledge, he did not foresee that the Horcrux inside Harry would claim his independence from the Voldie-guy as soon as their link severed from the universe crossing.
At first, Chaos' plan to destroy it was to make Harry magically stronger than the zombie man and then overthrow the soul shard. However, now that they were not linked anymore, overpowering the snake-face was useless, and destroying the Horcrux was not as simple as before. The soul piece was now an independent entity, and unlike what he thought at first, it did not go into deep slumber. Instead, he started rampaging inside Harry's nightmare.
Chaos knew it would not stop here; despite only being a soul shard, it contained the whole life of a dark wizard. It would be easy for it to take over the boy's body. The mind protection he taught Harry was only useful against external invasion, and now that the Horcrux was not linked to its owner, there was no external source.
There were ways to prevent something too big from happening; however, Chaos still had not recovered enough power to manifest in Harry's mind again, so the boy would have to endure it alone for now.
"That's not good." Chaos was trying to calculate every outcome to find a solution, but nothing came to his mind. "In the end, it's between his hands; there's realistically nothing I can do."
"That's fucking annoying." Surprisingly, his voice came out with a clear and angry tone. Nothing more than pure anger came out. He quickly recovered and sighed deeply. "Let's just wait and see, like always."
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Harry was weary. He once again had a nightmare. Its content was similar but, at the same time, different. The feelings he got from it were the same, but the location changed. Fortunately, he managed to wake up before he started screaming this time.
He did not know what time it was, but it was still dark outside, and he did not hear any sounds that would indicate that someone was awake. He was relieved that he woke up before screaming because it was not only the Potters in the house anymore. Daphnee Greengrass and Neville had stayed overnight; fortunately, the latter already had a room for himself, or else they would have shared a room like the two Daphnee did.
Harry was utterly exhausted, but he could not go back to sleep. If he did, he would risk screaming once again. He already ridiculed himself in front of the Potter's parents the day before, and he did not want to live something similar again. Fortunately, he was not as disoriented after his nightmare as the first time. The lack of people around sure helped and gave him time to reorganise his mind.
"If only I could make it, so no one hears if I scream." He murmured to himself. "I could at least be able to get some sleep."
There were two things preventing it from happening. The first was the graveyard incident that left him wandless, and the second was his inability to perform any wandless magic.
"If I can't sleep, I should at least make sure that I will be able to next time since I'm sure those nightmares are going to keep happening."
With that said, he took a meditative stance and started training. His mind was cloudy from the tiredness, so he decided to try something else today. Since closing his eyes could lead to him accidentally falling asleep, he kept them wide open. It was a little difficult to stay focused enough like that, but he kept going and finally managed to do it.
It was a weird sensation; he knew his eyes were open, but it was as if they were not. It felt as if he was in a dream; he found it hard to move his body—so hard that he stopped trying for a moment, trying to understand what was going on. He could feel the magic flowing through him; he felt as if he could do whatever he wanted at that moment. He felt invincible. The power he felt was something he had never felt in his life before; it was as if the world was within his palms.
I can't see anything; some light wouldn't hurt.
Harry's heart almost stopped. He could not believe what was happening. In front of him appeared a little source of light, as if he had just used Lumos with his wand. The light was floating in front of him; it was mesmerizing. Harry's eyes were fixed on it, not understanding how he just managed to do it. After a few minutes, he left his meditative state so he could move and inspect the light closer. However, the moment he did, the light was extinguished. He tried to make it come back, but nothing worked. He guessed that it had something to do with his meditative state, and indeed, when he did it again, he managed to light it up once again. He was still unable to move in this state, though.
I finally have a lead! Now I just need to find a way to move while in this state; it shouldn't be too hard.
It was. Harry spent his entire night trying to move in his meditative state, even with his eyes closed, but nothing worked. He also realised that with his eyes closed, he could also manifest magic, and it certainly felt easier than with his eyes opened. However, no matter what he tried, he was left unsuccessful with the move.
Without him realising it, he did not need light anymore. The sun had risen and illuminated his room through his window. What he realised, though, was that his stomach was crying out for food. He remembered that James had told him that he could go and help himself in the kitchen whenever he wanted, so he decided to go and satisfy his hunger.
He took a few wrong turns here and there before finally getting to the kitchen. The house was honestly the biggest he had ever been in. If you add to that his unfamiliarity with it, it was easy for Harry to get lost. Or at least that was how he told himself.
He found a few eggs in the fridge and some slices of bacon. He prepared his breakfast, and suddenly his surroundings felt quieter. His mind was not cloudy anymore; he felt comfortable. At the same time, he understood why he felt like that, and disgust rose in him. What had appeased him was the fact that he cooked breakfast just like with the Dursleys; it was as if his body told him that those were good times and that the Dursleys were his safe place. The thought was so disgusting that he did not notice the person who just came into the kitchen.
He kept cooking; he did it almost mechanically; it was ingrained in his mind. He did not like it, though. The food he cooked did not suit his taste, and he never made any effort to make it better. He did not care about the taste since he just needed it to be edible. The Dursleys had never complained about it, though; he always thought that it was because they could eat everything that was presented to them, especially Dudley and Mr. Dursley. They never refused food, except if it was healthy.
"Would you mind making me one too?" James' voice echoed behind him.
Harry's legs almost gave out from the surprise. His head turned towards James Potter, who was comfortably sitting in one of the kitchen's chairs.
"Sorry," he said with a smile. "I thought you heard me coming in; it seems that you were too lost in your thoughts."
"It's okay, I was just thinking about..." He did not really know how to say it. "About back home." It felt as if something foul came out of his mouth. "Scrambled or fried?"
"Fried please."
"I'm warning you, but I'm a bad cook; it's barely edible."
James laughed quietly.
"It can't be worse than Lily's food, though you might have inherited that from her." He suddenly fell silent, a grave expression on his face. "Don't ever tell her I told you that; it's taboo to talk about it. She'll skin me alive if she knew I said that."
Harry chuckled; he never imagined his father would be so scared of his mother.
Not . Your . Parents. He reminded himself, his teeth clenched.
"So, what do you think about Neville?" James wore a proud expression that made his heart ache. "He's a good guy, isn't he?"
"Yeah." He admonished himself for being jealous of him; the guy had also lost his parents. "Different from Neville back home."
"How so?" James' face was really an open book; his curiosity was plastered all over his face.
He started explaining how his Neville was. He served the food as they continued talking, comparing the two boys. At some point, Lily joined them, and with what James told him about her cooking skills, he decided he would prepare her breakfast himself. She looked a little bit taken aback at first, but quickly accepted his offer. Since anyone could barge in the kitchen, they decided to change the subject as they did not want everyone to know about him being a universe crosser.
"You're a Potter; how dare you be humble?" Harry did not understand why James was saying this. "This egg is delicious; it gives me an idea."
Lily gently hit her husband's back. "He must get it from his mother; thankfully, he doesn't act like a peacock every time he manages to do something, be it cooking or even flying on a broom."
"You have to acknowledge that I'm a hell of a flyer, though." James slyly smiled at Lily. "Honestly, I think I was born to be on a broom." He turned towards Harry. "And from what I heard, you're not that bad yourself."
"I'm decent, I guess." He did not know why, but he felt like boasting to them. "Decent enough to be chosen as the first player in a century to get on Gryffindor's Quidditch team in my first year."
"No way?!" James' shocked expression was a sight to behold; every part of his face was surprised. "How did you... Who's the Head of Gryff… ahem, of your house?"
Harry looked around him to be sure that no one would inadvertently come in the moment he answered the question.
"Professor McGonagall. At first, I thought I was going to be expelled; her expression was terrifying."
James' face looked even more curious now, so he recounted the events with a chuckle. This time he did not look around him, and maybe he should have, because he did not notice that someone was listening to them.
When he arrived at the part where Oliver Wood was called by his Head of House, people started coming into the kitchen. It was basically everyone—the two Daphne and Iris—who was snuggled in Neville's arms.
"G'morning." They said it in unison.
"Morning sleepyheads!" James cheerfully greeted them, and with a wave of his wand, all the dishes were done and put away. "What do you say about making breakfast together today?"
They all looked at each other, not understanding where that idea was coming from. The only one who seemed delighted about the idea was Iris, who left Neville's arms and was now excitedly bouncing on the floor.
"Cakes! Cakes! Cakes!" She chanted.
"Alright, alright, we'll make pancakes too."
When the parents were getting busy with their youngest, Harry took the opportunity to greet the rest.
"My bad about the breakfast thing." They looked at him curiously. "I think I gave him the idea when I made some eggs earlier."
"Not your fault; dad is always overly enthusiastic; if it wasn't cooking, he would've proposed a race to do the dishes."
The two others nodded, seemingly used to James Potter's antics. The morning passed quietly, with flour and laughter filling the kitchen.
Harry had no energy left anymore. He could barely lift his hands to keep the sunlight from blinding him. Shouts and laughter were coming from above him. Neville, James, and Daphne Potter were playing Quidditch in the garden.
At first, it was supposed to be two versus two, but Harry was so exhausted that his balance while standing was off, so flying was way too dangerous for him. Or at least that was what Lily had told him, and she was right; now that he was laying on his back, he felt all the fatigue his body had been building up trying to tie him down to the ground. His scrawny body felt as heavy as his uncle's. Every movement was a hardship on its own.
However, he could not give in to his fatigue. He was scared of falling asleep again. The terrifying nightmares were not something he wanted to helplessly watch again, but the worst would be his scream. He could have endured the nightmares alone; he was used to facing things alone. What he was not used to was people caring about him. He could not bring himself to make them worry even more because of some bloody nightmares.
He knew this solution was not viable over the long term, but he had a plan: wandless magic. If he could endure it until he finally finds out how to cast wandless magic, he would finally be able to sleep a bit. It was more of a bandage than a real solution, but it was better than nothing. He would have to wait for Chaos to talk about those nightmares. Harry's instincts told him that it was not some usual nightmare; it was more. It had its own consciousness, a past, and a soul.
In reality, he already had a good grasp of what was happening, but he did not want to accept it. Moreover, Chaos had assured him it would not be a problem for now, and he trusted Chaos.
It can't be the Horcrux! …right?
"I thought you'd just fly anyway." A voice he knew very well came from above him. He moved his hands to his forehead and was welcomed by a leaning Daphne. Her blond curls were almost touching his face and hid most of her face. "Potters don't give up that easily, or at least that's what Daph and Mr. Potter always say."
He was a little surprised; from what he had learned the past day, she was not someone who would approach him to initiate a conversation. She was always guarded around him, as if he was going to attack her at any moment. However, she had come and started a conversation with him on her own.
"A true Potter also knows not to cross Lily Potter." He said it with a chuckle. His laugh was a little fake, though; he did not really know Lily Potter enough to say something like that, and back home, no one ever told him anything about her except for their similar eyes. The answer left a sour taste in his mouth.
"Wise words." Another voice chimed in. Lily Potter had just arrived, with Ivy in one of her arms and her wand in the other. With a wave of it, she conjured a sheet to sit on. As they all did, she waved her wand once again, and two baskets came flying from what he guessed to be the kitchen. "Potters know better than to go against me." She smiled sweetly, and Harry felt shivers down his spine; her expression weirdly reminded him of his Daphne.
"Are you feeling better?" Lily asked him, worried this time.
"I'm fine." He nodded to her with a smile.
She looked at him for a moment and then turned to Daphne. "I made your favourites; let's eat."
Daphne's smile was dazzling; he caught himself staring at her and quickly looked away. However, it was too late. He caught Lily's expression; she was looking at him with a knowing smile plastered on her face. He felt his cheek temperature rise and put his hands in front of his eyes once again, hoping that no one else would notice him.
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His body felt weak. Not as weak as the host he had before, but definitely weaker than his original body. It did not matter for now, though. His magical powers had returned; the rest was secondary. Moreover, his plan did not require his body to be in perfect condition.
"Snape, how is the investigation going?" He asked his most trusted man. Not only was he trustworthy, but he was also a highly qualified wizard; he played a big role in his resurrection. Voldemort was not someone who trusted easily; in fact, he was not someone who trusted at all, the only exception being Severus Snape.
"It is said that the boy conjured a snake and used his Parseltongue ability to get the trophy." Each one of his words was articulated slowly. "However, I managed to get my hands on some memories from that day. Discreetly, of course."
Lord Voldemort knew that his right-hand man always talked this way. He loved to anticipate questions and answer them before they were asked. At first, it angered him, but as the years passed, it just bored him.
"From what I saw, the boy was not the one who did it. He seemed more surprised than everyone else. As always, the old man used it to his advantage and made his little soldier win the tournament."
"As for the one who conjured the snake, the only thing I am sure of is the fact that he was a Parselmouth. Moreover, he was present when the snake returned. I advise you to watch the memory; the snake was hissing; he might have leaked something about the one who conjured it."
"Hmm." The Dark Lord nodded thoughtfully. "Bring it to me later. What about your... side project?"
"Nothing noteworthy; maybe I was just overthinking. You'll be the first to know if I find something."
"Of course."
"The others have arrived; they may seem a little down." Severus snickered darkly. "I didn't like their haughty attitude."
"Next time, you will tell me before it happens." Voldemort warned his subordinate icily.
"Yes, my Lord."
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Seven old men were sitting around a round table. Strangely, the room they were in did not have a door. Each one of them was wearing different clothes and hairstyles; however, weirdly enough, they had the exact same face. It was as if six other people had Polyjuiced themselves as the old man and styled their hair, beard, and clothes with their own personal touches.
"It seems that something unexpected happened." One of them said:
"Indeed." The others answered in unison.
"It was to be expected; we know close to nothing about Horcruxes. And as rare as it may be, universe crossing is even more rare."
"He could die."
"Even better for us. If he does, half of our work would be done."
"Indeed." Once again, in unison.
"Let us watch and see for now; if he somehow manages to survive it, we shall take action."
"Everyone agree?"
"Yes." For the third time, they all agreed in unison.
They all stood up at the same time and walked out of the room. They walked towards a part of the room, and a path opened in front of every one of them.
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Albus Dumbledore was pondering. Something kept bothering him the last few days. And once again, the centre of his trouble was Voldemort. After the tournament, the unexpected arrival of the mysterious young man left him puzzled. From what he said, Voldemort came back to his world thanks to his blood. If this translated into this universe, Voldemort would have needed Neville Longbottom's blood taken forcefully. Albus, upon hearing this, immediately started to investigate this probably dark potion, and the only one that fit the description was the Regeneration potion, which needed enemy blood forcibly taken.
And as the young Harry Potter said, it did not indicate that it had to be someone specifically. So, in theory, Voldemort could have taken anyone's blood since most people considered him an enemy and inversely.
The theory was strengthened by the fact that there had been a few disappearances this year. A few minister's officials and Aurors were still nowhere to be found. That was the reason behind his pondering. He was not sure of the course of action he should take as of today. He had to make choices. Either start preparing for what was coming or wait some more for Neville to enjoy his youth a little more.
Neville Longbottom… Another source of headache for the old man, before Harry Potter's arrival, Albus still had the hope that his theory was wrong, and that the boy did not share his body with a shard of Voldemort's soul. The idea disgusted him at the highest point, and from what Harry Potter said, it seemed that they shared the same fate. He heard about the exact same prophecy that he was supposed to be the only person alive to know.
What troubled him about the young universe-crosser story was his counterpart. From what he learned, except for a few things, their universes were quite similar. He could not understand why his counterpart would think it was a good idea to tell a kid that he would have to die to save the world. He would not have done it back then, and even now he was still not sure that he should.
The main difference he gathered was the fact that Harry somehow discovered that there was something inside himself, confirming Albus theory about the Horcruxes. That fact in itself was weird; he could not understand how the young man found something that neither he nor his counterpart could discover. And also, why was he able to find it when Neville could not? They were both supposed to be the same "entity". Albus almost thought that young Harry's universe had more advanced magic, but when he thought about the fact that his counterpart did not discover the Horcrux before Harry Potter, he reconsidered.
His thoughts turned towards another solution: that maybe the difference did not come from him, not his counterpart, but from Harry Potter. The boy was special; Albus knew it. He had felt something when he first met him; the boy's mind was impenetrable without being a fortress. It was more like a bottomless pit, and his strange tone seemed to come from it. It was not all—the fact that the boy escaped successfully from Voldemort's clutch alone and safe, minus the torture. And at the same time, he saved Neville from the same fate, or an even worse one.
That was one of the reasons Albus decided to enrol him in Hogwarts; he did not want him to slip between his fingers.
"Alas." The old man sighed deeply. "Have I become so desperate that I have to place my hopes in not one, but two teenagers?"
Of course, he hated it; it angered and disgusted him that he became so weak that he had to count on a young boy to vanquish a single Dark Lord. Yet he had no other options; his body could not keep up, and the prophecy was here too. He knew the prophecy could have a lot of different meanings, but the fact that one of them had to die for the other to survive is unequivocal. It meant that something was going on between them, be it magic or fate—something linked Neville Longbottom and Voldemort, something stronger than him. The only thing he could do was help the boy with the best of his capabilities.
Oh, how I wish I was born as a weaker wizard. At least my shoulders would not have been that heavy from the responsibilities.
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Daphne Greengrass was never a girl who smiled a lot. Everyone who had seen her once could tell that; however, since it happened, it has become worse. The bag under her eyes contrasted with her fairy skin tone and made her look like a vampire. She did not smirk anymore, did not laugh anymore, and did not smile anymore; she was morose.
The news hit her like a Bludger right in the face. She did not know what to say for a long time; in fact, she had not talked to anybody since it happened. Even if she wanted to, she could not bring herself to talk. She had wanted to talk with Hermione, Tracey, and even her sister Astoria, but nothing did it; she could not do it.
Astoria too had a phase, but unlike herself, it quickly came to an end. She was still extremely sad and still cried at nights when she thought everyone was asleep, but she talked with her parents, and it seemed to have helped.
Her parents had reached out to her multiple times, trying to make her talk, but it all seemed useless. Every time she tried to open her mouth to answer, it felt like she would choke from the lack of air. As if a snitch was stuck in her throat. The comparison made her ache even more.
However, despite all that, she knew she was not the one who was suffering the most right now. Ron's family and Hermione were most likely in a worse state than hers. Knowing full well that she could not bring herself to talk, she decided to write to them, or at least to Hermione. She did not know if it was really a good idea to write to someone who had just lost a brother or son, being a complete stranger to them.
After multiple scrapped parchments were thrown behind her, she finally had written something she was satisfied with, and after a few minutes of pondering, she sent it.
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Severus Snape was puzzled. He still did not find anything noteworthy about the mysterious boy. It really bothered him because Severus Snape usually gets what he wants, when he wants. After his passage to Madam Malkin's shop, he did what was necessary to find out what happened when they were in there. However, except for the fact that the boy was presented like James Potter's nephew and that he could almost pass for his son,
According to Madam Malkin, the family had a good vibe around them; they were laughing and smiling around. It drifted away from the hypothesis of a bastard child. Moreover, the boy's eyes were uncanny, emerald-green eyes, the same as Lily Potter.
The first thing that flew through his mind was time travel; however, to this day, there was not a single way to go back that far in time, given that the boy was either the son or the grandson of the Potter couple and that he seemed to be around fourteen years old. If this was possible, he would have known; he had searched for such a way for a long time without success. It still did not put the hypothesis away, since maybe in the future, such a device could have been created. However, he was not convinced about that, because if it had indeed happened, it would have been prevented, and his future self would have done so. There was still the case that he had died before, but Severus Snape did not believe that. He could not die, not before he found a way to make it happen.
Severus looked at what he had before his eyes and sighed in appreciation.
"It's perfect." He said lovingly. "You are perfect."
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That's it for today!
Don't forget to : REVIEW, bet it criticism or compliment, as long as it is constructive I take all of them into account. Especially for this chapter, I really need your feedback about it.
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