16th March 1995 - Training Rooms, Ministry of Magic, Volstar
The-Woman-Who-Loved
The-Boy-Who-Lived is for most, a household name, a well known story. If asked (and sometimes even without asking) any one of us could speak at length on the topic of one of the most famous wizards of the age. The harrowing tale and the triumph over evil.
Or at least we thought we knew the story.
By this point many of our dear readers have heard about the record of the trial of Lord Sirius Black. We've covered its salient points as best we could including his shocking Not Guilty verdict and the news that Peter Pettigrew, who had previously been declared dead and posthumously awarded the much famed Order of Merlin, 1st Class, medal for acts of outstanding bravery or distinction had in truth been not only alive all along but the true perpetrator of the heinous crimes Lord Black had previously been accused of (and sent to Azkaban for).
Since it's acceptance and viewing by the ICW and our own DMLE, that same evidence has been (in a move some have considered widely controversial) available for viewing by and an all curious individuals from its location atop pedestals in the Ministry atrium.
Though as riveting the proof of Lord Black's innocence in regards to the murders he had allegedly committed (and sent to Azkaban for a decade for) far more interesting is the memories of that fateful night.
That's right dear readers, if you were not aware among the evidence are two memories one from Lord Black and one from The-Boy-Who-Lived himself that show any and all exactly what happened that night.
And having viewed each several times my own self, several thoughts have indeed come to the fore.
Chief among them is the curious case of Lily Potter and how seemingly no-one had considered what role she had played in those blessedly horrible events. The muggleborn witch who ranked highest academically during her time at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, a witch who is shown in memory to be perfectly comfortable with not only non-verbal magic, but totally wandless as well.
A witch who's magic and love set down a powerful protection, fueled by the willing sacrifice of her own life for her infant son, was the true cause for You-Know-Who's demise. As anyone can view in its entirety from Harry Potter's own amazing but heartbreaking memory.
As thankful as we all no doubt are to the part he played in the downfall of the darkest wizard Britain has seen in recent memory, I think we all must now admire and give thanks to Lily Potter, The-Woman-Who-Loved, because without that love, the world we would otherwise inhabit would be too terrible to imagine.
For more on the individuals mentioned in this article, please turn to pages 3, 5,6 and 7.
This has been Goren Galloway reporting for the Daily Prophet.
Harry knew the article, every letter on every line.
He knew which picture sat where, the rigid lines of the font and the precise location of each spot of punctuation.
Knew the wrinkles around the edges and the blotches his tears had caused.
He had since it arrived read it once, but cried over it more times than he was strictly comfortable admitting.
He was still admittedly a little surprised that neither Sirius or Remus had tried to take it away from him in a bid to force him to look elsewhere.
But in reality they had been too focused on their own copies of the paper.
Now his copy sat to one side on a bench, well within reach while he went through the motions of training with his magic. He had lost count - though not really - of the number of training dummies he had destroyed and repaired.
He could see no obvious reason for the strong emotional response.
It had been a very nice article, all things considered. There were certainly other journalists that could - and would - have used it as an opportunity to make snide remarks. About his parents, about Hogwarts, about the Ministry or someone else. Compared to some other news articles that have made it to print in the last handful of months it was positively glowing with decency and well wishing.
Which didn't help him pick apart why it had - and still did - upset him so much.
The more rational side of his mind knew that he was too close to it and that that was why he couldn't pick it all apart and analyze it himself like he tended to do with all the other things that upset him, now that he had the training to do so.
Similarly he knew that he should make time to sit down with Frederick so the other man could help him work through it. But for the moment it felt too raw to be poked at, even as gently and as respectfully as he knew the older man would be.
It was just as well that he hadn't seen hide-nor-hair of Snape or Malfoy since the morning after their move when he had given them both the tour, Malfoy his study schedule and books, and Snape a listing of potential jobs and their skill requirements.
He had gotten a raised eyebrow out of the last until he explained that as a security measure they were both required to be easily accounted for - and monitorable for - a probationary period and that Malfoy's schooling served the same purpose, even if he returned to the flat they shared at the end of the day instead of staying on school grounds.
Likewise whatever employment option Snape decided on would allow him to be easily monitored during the day and provide him with a steady source of income with which to provide for his godson with. Something that was a mandatory requirement for him to maintain custody of the teen, rather than having his care revert to Sirius as his closest blood relative on the island.
The look the pale teen had thrown the potion master had Harry quickly smothering a snort of laughter. He honestly didn't think he had ever seen the other teen look simultaneously so panicked and insistent.
And that did include his understandable, though hilarious, reaction to the announcement of a loose troll in their first year.
When the last dummy had been rendered down into a jagged pile of twitching splinters Harry sighed and let his hands drop to his sides. Ideally he would have been out working on the Library but construction had halted on account of the storm currently raging away outside.
The same storm that had been raging away since the paper had come with its pretty article.
It had been Hildegara that had brought Tillander with her that morning to talk about the uncontrolled blending of powerful emotion and equally powerful ambient magic. He had told Harry that elves worked their hardest when they were in pain, not because the work was making them sad, but because they used all the activity to bleed off some of their excess magic so that they didn't face the same problem Harry was currently dealing with.
That his magic was reacting with his sadness and natural bond with water to draw it from the atmosphere. And that it was mixing with plasma and darkness to form the dark storm that was lashing at their homes, beating at their windows and flooding their streets.
Tillander had instructed him to put his magic to work and direct it towards a desired outcome so it would not lash out on its own accord. He had told Harry that the manner he did so mattered very little, just that it be harnessed and channeled intentionally and the excess was drained away.
So, in no mood to build or tidy or any number of other things he could have done he turned to something that was becoming more and more familiar.
Violence.
Whether it was training with his body, learning to wield any and every weapon Ruknukle put into his hands. Or working with Sirius to train his magic to be more responsive and intuitive in live fire combat situations, Harry couldn't help but think that the instinct towards violent reaction was becoming closer and closer to a second thought, rather than a fourth or a fifth.
So he had locked himself in the auror training rooms, more specifically one of the large target ranges and had thrown himself into going through the motions, directing his magic to seek and destroy. Whether shaped into proper spellwork or let free in area detonations that would buffet everything in a circle around him.
He shattered dummies, cracked the walls and shook the ground while time fled.
With a deep sigh he let himself drop to his knees then to his rear, catching his momentum with one hand as he took in the devastation, from his position twisted up on the floor.
It was just as well, he thought, that he had finally slipped into an odd sort of numbness.
He let his elbows rest on his knees and bowed his head so his hands covered his dry eyes and blocked his view of the ruin he had caused, all the while his magic slipped free into the room and its scattered, shattered items. Sinking into the splinters, cracks and crushed pieces and weaving them whole once more and back into place as if they had never been damaged to begin with.
Time continued to slip away from him while his mind wandered on the tide of oblivion, being dragged further and further out to sea until he gradually became aware of small movement and warmth against his back.
Little by little his consciousness drew back to the surface until he became properly aware of his self and the room around him again. That the warmth was Sirius wrapped around him, chest pressed to Harry's back and arms wrapped around shoulders and waist. And that the movement was the gentle side to side rocking the older man was guiding their bodies through.
He could feel the others chin resting on his shoulder and his breath brush against his cheek with each exhalation.
Seeming to realise that Harry was aware of himself and the room at large again, Sirius' arms tightened in a gentle squeeze. "Back with me?"
"Yeah." The teen whispered back, letting his body relax back into his godfather's hold. "Just got a bit overwhelmed, sorry."
The older man tilted his head just enough so as to gently nudge against Harry's with it. "Here now, none of that. What do you always tell me?"
It took Harry a moment to recall what the other was talking about. "We apologise for actions, not emotions." He recited quietly.
"Just so. So none of this apologising for being a bit upset." Sirius gently chided.
"I also destroyed the room." Harry offered while his hands moved to rest on the others' wrists.
"And then you fixed it so well it looks like nothing happened to begin with, so I think you're even on that one." The older animagus huffed, giving him another squeeze.
Deciding that he wasn't going to win the argument Harry decided to let it go and instead let himself drift a bit more, soaking up the others warmth.
It had only been a short while ago, all things said and done, that they last sat like this. Though that time they had been curled up on a couch watching and rewatching the memory of Harry's first Christmas when he had been not quite five months old - and thus passed around Lily and the Marauders like a hot potato - and every one else had been very intent on cuddling with him and forgetting there were things beyond the house walls that they didn't want to think about for the day.
It was one of several memories of his infancy that had returned to clarity while he had slept. The protective and healing effects of his mind boggling brain augmenting ritual reviving and strengthening the old withered synapses that connected those memories to the rest of his awareness.
It was a matter of some debate and much head scratching, there were no other records that they had been able to find of the Exitatio Mentis ritual lasting as long. Prior to Harry, the longest active state had been four months, recorded in the journal of one Cestus Rigellan Black, who had apparently used the benefits to create a number of spells that were still part of the Black Library.
A jaunt into the mundane science side of things had turned up a theory that no one actually ever lost memories through time or injury, that people instead lost access to them because the connective synapses of the brain decayed over time. But it wasn't something the researchers had truly been able to test, due to the time frame and complexity of the matter. So Frederick and Harry had made notes and started writing up their own journals revolving around the issue - and in Harry's case the rest of his life and observations just in case - and had decided that for the immediate future that was likely the best they were going to get.
So even if they weren't certain of the science of how they could analyse each new remembered dream or memory and make note of it. And then depending on what it was Harry would share it with Sirius and Remus.
It was the closest they could get to those stolen years they hadn't gotten to share together.
"How long?" Harry asked when he finally felt ready to start the process of rejoining the rest of the world.
"Hm?" Sirius hummed. "How long what...how long have you been here, how long have I been here or how long have we been sitting here?"
"Yes."
Digging his chin into Harry's shoulder a little in repayment for the cheek, Sirius nevertheless answered. "You've been in here about six hours. I've been here keeping an eye on you for four of them and we've probably been sitting here about a half hour before you came back up."
"That long?" The teen asked, surprised.
"Mm, time flies when you're stuck in your own head." Sirius replied, giving his godson another squeeze. "So, are you going to go have a sit down with Frederick for a proper session and talk your way through this or am I going to have to give you puppy dog eyes?"
That made Harry snort a laugh. "I can't believe you just called yourself a puppy."
"Oi, leave off!" Sirius barked with a playful scowl as he finally unwrapped his arms from around his godsons so he could poke him in the sides. "I'll have you know I'm very young at heart. Besides I'm only thirty-five, I'm practically just starting puberty in wizard years."
"If you say so." The teen shot back, shifting on the spot so he could give the older man his best patronising look.
In retaliation Sirius slipped into his animagus form causing Harry to fall back without the solid support of his solid chest to lean against. He neatly sidestepped the teens flailing and plopped himself down again in easy visual range so he could stare across at Harry who had finally righted himself.
Seeing the wide liquid eyes directed at him, Harry huffed and turned away. "Oh no, I'm not falling for this again."
Behind him Padfoot hung his head dejectedly, though still looking up at his godson.
Against better instincts and reason, Harry glanced over his shoulder, only to grumble at the sight. "It won't work, I've gotten better at ignoring you when you do this. Besides, I've got too much work to do, and I'm already behind because I've apparently been in here all day wasting time."
Padfoot whined at that and shifted down to lay on his belly, head resting against the floor while his eyes darted back and forth from Harry to the floor, then to Harry then away again, whining softly all the while.
Hearing the soft whining from behind him the young king groaned and dropped his head into his hands so he could scrub at his face in agitation. "That's not fair, I thought we agreed you wouldn't do the whining thing?!" He cried into his hands.
Behind him, Padfoot started to shuffle around on his belly until he was close enough to lift his head and rest it on one of the teen's outstretched legs then continued to stare up at his godson while he whined at him in an award-worthy show of disappointment and hurt.
Without thought one of Harry's hands dropped down to rest lightly on the older man's head before he sighed and started to lightly run his fingers through the other's fur. "This is both cruel and unusual, you know that right?" Harry muttered but continued to pet the other animagus.
Padfoot whined quietly in reply and tilted his head into the gently scritching fingers.
"I'll go see him tomorrow morning." The teen conceded, shoulders slumping as he admitted defeat. "For now we should probably check the farms and the sewer system to see how well their charms managed to deal with the storm."
Transforming back into his human form, Sirius opted to keep his head in his godson's lap though he shifted onto his back so he could look up at the teen properly. "I ran into the esteemed Madam Hubbard on the way here, she's been back and forth between the fields and the greenhouses. The greenhouses have been weathering it all quite well, according to her. The fields less so, though she was apparently on her way back out to lay some additional protections on them and the orchards."
Making a face at the possibility of damage to their growing fields or the orchards because of him, Harry sighed. "I didn't even think about the orchards." He admitted.
The city's orchards had been split into two sections, indoors and outdoors since not all the trees and fruit-bearing bushes they wanted to grow would thrive in the heavy sun climate. The original plan had been simply to have a handful of trees for the most basic fruits and nuts that were easy to cultivate just about anywhere, however, after seeing the size of the growing spaces Harry was allotting to her team and discovering just how fertile the land was thanks to the nearby volcanoes, she had all but cornered Harry with a list of plants to retrieve for her to plant.
Magic help him if his storm had caused any irreversible damage to her pride and joy. For all the woman was very mild-mannered in the day-to-day, she turned into an absolute bear when her green things were at risk.
Literally.
As it turned out, his own achievement of his animagus form - and the strictly enforced prices on ingredients to protect against price gouging - had apparently inspired others to try to achieve their own.
Buoyed by the islands' ideal weather conditions and the happy relationship with the elves who were keen to remind their neighbours when it was time to cast the incantation or when the maturation time was complete on the potion and so on, there were now more people on Volstar that were animagus than there were people that weren't.
It was something that amused most of them in varying degrees, after a lifetime of being told how difficult or flat unattainable the process was, it served as another reminder about the sorts of things they could achieve when working together.
Sirius had said it was like their entire little community was flipping magical Britain the bird.
"How angry did she look to you?" Harry asked after a moment's pause, idly wondering if he needed to brace for a scolding the next time he saw her.
"Not at all. A bit harried and worried, but not angry in the least." Sirius responded evenly. "Moony's the one doing the worried-angry march around your office."
"Sorry." The teen muttered contritely, shoulders slumped under the knowledge that he had upset one of his friends and pseudo-uncle.
"Eh, don't be. You're a teenager, it's practically your calling to make old mother hens like Moony worry themselves into a state at least two or three times a month." The older animagus assured him, absently waving away the apology.
Harry raised a black brow at that. "Seems a bit excessive."
Sirius shrugged. "Seems like a normal teenager to me."
"I'm pretty sure you and the rest of the Marauders aren't what most people have in mind when they think about normal teenagers." Harry countered before shaking his head at the exaggerated pout the older man directed up at him. "Come on, we'll go find Remus then go tour the damage."
Huffing a sigh, the older man rolled off his godsons lap and climbed to his feet before he held out a hand to help pull the teen up off the floor. "I'm sure everything's fine. The runes and enchantments on the sewer systems are rated for monsoons and tidal waves, we really went overkill when we were setting things up."
"Maybe, but this is the worst storm we've had since we've been here, so I'd like to look it over and see if anything needs to be changed," Harry replied. "Better we find out now than later down the line when we have thousands of people making use of the system."
"Tell me we're at least going to jump in some puddles?"
"If you want." The teen easily agreed before turning to lead the way out of the firing range. "But if the system did what it was meant to, there won't be all that many worth splashing about in."
"You, dear godson, are really starting to grow into a Debby Downer," Sirius grumbled as he moved to follow.
Harry rolled his eyes at the good-natured grumbling. "We can't all be the life of the party."
"So true. This is much harder than I make it look, you know?"
Amused despite the lingering edge of sadness he was trying not to think about, Harry let his shoulder bump against the taller male's arm while he gave him a grateful smile.
He really didn't want to think about what life might be like without the other man in it.
Warts and all.
The fierce storm that had been raging almost since the moment of their arrival on what several back home had been snidely calling 'the frontier' was finally slowly draining away.
Though he did wonder if those same upper-crust snobs would still be so snide if they saw for themselves what this so-called desolate frontier actually looked like. What the meanest standard of living afforded its people.
Severus had quite frankly been expecting very little when he had placed his hand on his godson's shoulder so they could be transported to the Mediterranean island nation. Arriving in the neatly maintained paved landing spot with its bright sun and equally bright neighbouring buildings.
There were also neatly maintained plants everywhere, potted or otherwise. So much so that despite all the concrete, stone and glass that made up most of the buildings the air smelt of warmth and greenery. Of light summer flowers and grass and other sweet things.
It was such a juxtaposition with Hogwarts, whence they came, and London that Severus could quietly admit to himself he felt rather flat-footed.
Their first day in had consisted of oaths and a rather comprehensive guided tour to help him and Draco orientate themselves before they had been led to one of the tall buildings that housed a multitude of flats and had been given the keys to one.
It had been much more than either he or his godson had been anticipating with plenty of room for each of them and then some besides.
But they had found themselves left to their own devices, which resulted in his godson closing himself up in his room for a nap while Severus himself sat on the edge of one of two couches with shirt sleeves pushed up while his fingers traced over and over a now blank forearm.
Even now, days after the dark mark had been pulled from his skin he still caught himself expecting to see it there.
Though, given the fact that it had been there, emblazoned upon his skin for near on two decades, he thought he could forgive himself for the slow adjustment period.
And it had been Potter of all people that had rid him of it.
James' brat.
Lily's boy.
It was both madness and serendipitous that he should find himself saved, at least in part, by something of her creation. As if she were reaching out from beyond the grave to fix yet another of his mistakes.
The-Woman-Who-Loved the paper was calling her now, as if they could ever hope to name the pure awesome weight of her devotion, of her caring soul.
As if they had any right at all to speak of her after years of ignoring her talents and sacrifices.
Turning away from the paper that sat neatly folded on his desk, Severus instead turned his attention to the list of possible employment options he had been presented with.
He had yet to pick something, but he had spent the previous day crossing off all the ones that he either had no interest in or would force him to interact with Lupin or the Mutt. The less time spent in their dubious company the better, for all involved.
Or at the very least, for him.
Though admittedly, he had thus far managed to avoid crossing paths with Black at all and had only bumped into Lupin the one time in Potter's office since the man was apparently working as his secretary of all things.
Picking up the list he started browsing through it again, intent on narrowing the selection down further.
Perhaps something in research?