THE HIGH PRICE

by peverell.magic

The ash began to bury his legs, enveloping him in its soft, warm embrace. Harry wrapped his arms around his knees and buried his face in them, allowing the world to drift into the distance.

42. CHAPTER 42: FROM LIBERATION TO REMORSEMO

CHAPTER 42: FROM LIBERATION TO REMORSEMORDRE

High above, the stars glittered in the expansive canvas of the night sky, casting their ethereal glow over meticulously maintained hedges and impeccably trimmed lawns. In the distance, the haunting cry of a peacock echoed through the stillness.

Cissy couldn't help but sigh, her gaze drawn to the heavens. "That's probably the last one of them being devoured by that dreadful serpent."

Bella tilted her head, her dark eyes gleaming with curiosity. "Nagini?" She shrugged dismissively. "If the peacock wants to escape its fate, it should put up a more valiant struggle. They're beautiful but utterly defenseless creatures."

A faint, melancholic sniffle emanated from behind them. "Aren't we all," Cissy whispered, her voice laden with a touch of sadness. "Aren't we all."

Bella let out an exasperated sigh. "Come on, my little Cissy," she said, swiveling to prod her sister gently in the stomach. "We're on a mission to find Andi. No need for such gloom." With a firm grip on Cissy's arm, Bella pictured the rustic, handsome lodge with its sprawling countryside lawns and hunting grounds, and with a swift apparition, they found themselves across the country.

Before them lay a decaying pile of timbers, surrounded by overgrown grass fields and twisted, ancient woods.

Bella wrinkled her nose in disapproval. "Well, Andi's definitely not here," she muttered. "What in Merlin's name happened to this place? It's a complete mess."

Cissy walked alongside her, her elegant dark blue dress swaying gently in the faint breeze. "How much do you remember, Bella?"

It was a question that prodded Bella to sift through the fog of her memory, attempting to capture fragmented glimpses of faces, white masks, silver masks, vivid colors, the acrid scent of burning flesh, the cacophony of screams, shouts, cries, and mad cackles. "Not much," she admitted, her voice laced with nonchalance. "But that's alright. We don't need to remember every detail to savor the next chapter."

Cissy's frown deepened as she pressed further, "Do you remember what transpired before all the chaos and fighting?"

Bella strained to delve into the fog of her recollections. "Of course," she began, piecing together moments of stone walls, suits of armor, elegant paintings, lessons, and the faces of children who had once shared their lives. Central to those memories were her two sisters, their smiles and laughter ever-present. "There was the three of us and the usual school-related activities."

Cissy's expression grew even more serious. "And after that?"

Bella struggled to penetrate the enigmatic haze. "I'm not entirely sure," she confessed with a nonchalant shrug. "Does it really matter?"

Cissy brushed her long, straight blonde hair away from her face, her gaze fixed on Bella. "It does matter if you want to find Andi," she said softly. "What do you plan to do when we find her, Bella?"

"Bring her back, of course," Bella replied with unwavering determination.

Cissy's voice took on a note of concern. "But have you considered that she might be happier where she is?"

Bella vehemently shook her head and stamped her foot. "Nuh uh. Andi's our sister, Cissy. She'll be happiest with us."

Cissy let out a weary sigh. "Well, I don't think Andi will agree with that."

Bella blinked in bewilderment. "She's being silly. What happened to make her so silly?"

Cissy's throat tightened, and she struggled with her response. "What happened?" She choked back her emotions. "We grew up. Well, at least the two of us did. Nobody's sure about you."

Bella huffed, stung by the comment. "Don't be mean."

Cissy drew her wand and used it to right the rusted iron bench, conjuring a thick blanket to cover it. "Sit down, Bella," she said gently, patting the empty space beside her. "I think I need to tell you about everything that happened."

Bella fidgeted on the spot, tugging at the silk sleeve of her purple dress. She knew that deep down, she still wanted to rescue Andi, but a part of her rebelled. "What does it matter, Bella? We're still going to get her back," she thought to herself. But she couldn't ignore the pull of sisterly duty. "She's our sister, Bell. We should listen to her."

Reluctantly, Bella plopped down on the other half of the blanket. "Go on, then."

Cissy tucked her wand away, her expression grave. "You were never the same after your accident, Bella. I think Andi wanted to get away, especially when you were so deeply involved in the Dark Lord's battles. She despised it, and she blamed herself for being the reason."

"That's silly," Bella frowned. "I'm just the same as I was. Nothing's happened to me."

Deep inside, Bella couldn't deny that something had changed. In her mind's eye, she could see threads of purple magic drifting from her limbs like wisps of a spider's web. "We're a little bit mad, remember?" she reminded herself.

Cissy firmly held Bella's shoulder. "You shouldn't be the same, Bella. Everyone else changed, but you, you're still just like the little girl you were, only you're not a little girl anymore, and you don't play by little girl's rules."

Bella scrunched up her face in frustration. "Just tell me what happened, Cissy."

Cissy took a deep breath and continued, "A lot of Andi's friends and family died, Bella."

Bella crossed her arms defiantly. "So did ours! That's what happens! That's how it works! You win, and you live, or you lose, and you die."

The memory of dark, polished marble flashed before Bella's eyes, and an unsettling shudder coursed down her spine. "I don't want to die," she whispered to herself. "Nobody wants to die, Bella."

Cissy rubbed her temples in exasperation. "Well, Andi didn't like it. She didn't like that we were on the opposite side. She'd already severed all contact and was disowned by the family, and then she vanished. Her daughter works at the Ministry, but she won't exchange a word with me." Cissy wiped away a tear. "Our own niece... I had hoped that she and Draco could become friends. He doesn't have many true companions, just those two thick-headed boys and Pansy Parkinson. She's pleasant enough, but not particularly bright or attractive."

Bella nodded in empathy. "Cousins," she sighed. "Do you know that Sirius complained about my singing for the entire duration we were imprisoned in Azkaban? He never spoke kindly to me, either." She pouted, recalling the bitterness of abandonment. "And then he left me behind. Again."

A strained laugh escaped Cissy's lips. "Yes, well. He wasn't on our side, either."

Bella frowned, puzzled. "Then why was he there?"

"He was blamed for the deaths of the Potters. Their other friend, the less appealing one, was the actual perpetrator."

A trace of warmth enveloped Bella's heart. "Oh, that's reassuring. It's all just part of the game, then. I thought he despised me."

Cissy gazed at Bella with her wide, blue eyes, the starlight lending her skin an ethereal, porcelain-like quality. "The Potter boy could have been a good friend for Draco, too, but Dumbledore's associates intervened, and he distanced himself from Draco. I often told him how wonderful it would have been for them to attend school together, at least before Draco's first day. I think he was deeply disappointed it didn't work out."

"Potter... Potter..." Bella muttered to herself, her memory slowly clearing. "The boy who vanquished the Dark Lord, Bella."

"What's he like?" Bella inquired.

Cissy shrugged. "It depends on whom you ask. Draco mentioned he's a talented Quidditch player but otherwise quite average. The Dark Lord mentioned that Lily Potter had done something that almost led to his death, not the boy."

"I don't recall her," Bella said as she bounced on the bench and playfully kicked her feet. "What about Andi? And her daughter?" She hesitated. "Wait. Daughter. Did she wed Nott in the end?"

Cissy wrinkled her nose and frowned. "It was never going to be Nott. No, she married the Muggle-born, Ted Tonks."

Bella's veins seethed with anger. Magic surged from her, slicing through the long grass like a scythe. Cissy closed her eyes and clenched her fists.

"A Muggle," Bella hissed, her disdain evident. "She married one of those mundane creatures?! She's our sister! She deserves the very best! Why didn't you intervene, Cissy?"

Cissy clarified, "A Muggle-born, not a Muggle. And how could I have intervened?" She wiped away a tear. "At least our niece is a skilled witch. Nymphodora is her name—a true Black name."

"A half-blood," Bella spat the word out in disgust. "She probably has very little magic. She'll be a dreadful player. Helpless. A disgrace."

Cissy shook her head. "No, by all accounts, she's an accomplished Auror for her age."

Bella slumped in realization. "Oh. Well, then she must take after Andi. That's good. I hope I can meet her."

Cissy delivered a somber truth. "She's an Auror, Bella. And you're an escaped convict."

"But still family," Bella pouted. "We can have a nice chat before we dive into playing, can't we?"

Cissy shivered, a sense of unease washing over her. "We should return. Andi's not here. I have no idea where she is. I need to get back home. You shouldn't be out here, either."

Bella giggled mischievously. "The Dark Lord will only care if we get caught."

Cissy's worry deepened. "And what if we do get caught?"

Bella swung her feet playfully. "The only one who can beat me is the Dark Lord. I'll take on all the others," she declared with youthful confidence. "I want to see Andi, baby Cissy. How can we find her?"

Cissy sighed with a sense of resignation. "I've tried every method I could think of. I believe she's living in the Muggle world, where we can't reach her."

Bella scowled at the idea. "That's devious. I can't think like a dumb Muggle."

Cissy nodded in agreement. "Exactly. Now, let's go back, Bella. It's too late for all of us to be sisters again."

Bella had her own plan, though. "But we don't need to think like a Muggle, Cissy. We can get a Muggle to do that." She bobbed her head and jumped to her feet. "We just need to find one and make them search, Bell."

"Okay, Cissy," she agreed, patting her sister on the head. "I'll try to find you some new, attractive pets first. Ones that can put up more of a fight than a peacock."

Cissy stared at her in bafflement, then with a shake of her head, she vanished with a loud crack.

Undeterred, Bella shrugged and spun around. "Let's go find a Muggle, Bell." She closed her eyes and apparated to the top of the hill. "Can't be that difficult. They're everywhere, like rats."

At the far end of the valley, a cluster of bright, harsh lights glowed in the distance, marking the path to Bella's next adventure.

"Here we go, Bella."

Bella apparated her way down a few fields at a time, eventually reaching a muggle town. She peered around, her disdain for the lack of magic evident. "There's no magic at all. It's such a dull, lifeless place."

A man abruptly turned the corner and froze in his tracks. "Whoa, lady!" He stumbled toward her with a raised hand. "It's not wise for you to be in this area, all posh and affluent, by yourself. You can't trust everyone to be decent folk."

Bella tilted her head and approached him with a playful demeanor. "Hello, Muggle."

The man, seeming concerned, asked, "Are you intoxicated, love?" He scratched his face and rummaged through his pockets. "Let me call you a taxi or something. Get you back home safely. Your boyfriend or husband is probably worried sick."

Bella discreetly drew her wand from her dress. "Imperio."

His eyes glazed over, and he stood there motionless.

"I need to find Andi," Bella lamented. "She's hiding in your Muggle world, and I have no idea how to locate her. You're looking for..." She fumbled through the name Cissy had given her. "Ted Tonks." She made a face. "Urgh, it even sounds boring."

"Ted Tonks," the bewitched Muggle muttered, swaying unsteadily.

Bella took a step closer, her wand's tip against his neck. "And so I know what you do." An ink raven materialized beneath his skin, its dark wings spreading before vanishing from sight. "Now, let's find a little something for baby Cissy to brighten her day."

The stack of ancient tomes precariously perched on the edge of Salazar's cluttered desk teetered and crashed to the floor, sending a cacophony of thuds reverberating through the room.

Salazar Slytherin's brow furrowed in annoyance as he scolded Harry, "Be careful with those! They're irreplaceable relics, and one must treat old things with the utmost care."

Harry Potter, his brow knitted in concentration, swiftly began restacking the fallen books. "You're old," he retorted with a mischievous twinkle in his eyes, "and none of these contain the information I seek about what truly becomes of prophecies once they're divulged."

Salazar nodded, his demeanor growing reflective. "In my time, prophecies were merely whispered to those who happened to be nearby. They spread primarily through word of mouth, unless someone took it upon themselves to suppress the information."

Harry sighed heavily, realizing the difficulty of his quest. "Great. I can easily picture Voldemort doing everything in his power to suppress a prophecy."

Salazar's gaze softened, and he spoke with empathy. "Indeed, Harry. If he received a prophecy about himself, he would likely keep it hidden. It's human nature to want to control one's own destiny."

"So, how on earth am I supposed to find out what it says?" Harry asked, a note of frustration in his voice. "Do I just waltz up to Voldemort and ask him?"

Salazar leaned back thoughtfully, stroking his goatee, which was now peppered with gray. "It's certainly a conundrum. However, considering the Ministry's interference in magical practices, it's safe to assume that they have their claws in the recording of prophecies. People in positions of power often desire to have knowledge of such predictions."

Harry scowled, his frustration evident. "But the Ministry isn't likely to be too eager to help me, especially with Fudge at the helm. In fact, Voldemort might be more willing to assist me in this matter."

Salazar nodded, acknowledging the complexity of the situation. "That's a problem we'll have to tackle in due course," he mused. "For now, let's shift our focus. How's your plan progressing to keep Dumbledore at bay, and how are you planning to rid Hogwarts of Umbridge? Leaving her unchecked in Dumbledore's absence is not an option."

Harry leaned in closer, the room hushed and the silver serpent that had been draped around Salazar's neck slithered away, revealing a delicate silver chain hidden beneath its scales. "I'm just one spell away from ensuring Dumbledore remains sidelined for as long as the Ministry remains against him, and I can't foresee any way it could fail," Harry revealed with a confident smile. "Not even Voldemort's horcrux could have come this close to achieving our goals."

'Just because you cannot see a way, doesn't mean it doesn't exist,' Salazar said, his wisdom evident in the lines etched across his aged face.

Harry sighed and leaned back in Salazar's ornate chair, the room's ambiance casting shadows on their faces. "I know," he admitted. "But I just can't see how Dumbledore could remain here without openly defying the Ministry. And he won't do that when he aims to unite everyone against Voldemort."

Salazar arched an inquisitive eyebrow. "So, do enlighten me, Harry. What's your brilliant plan?"

Harry's eyes sparkled with confidence. "Dumbledore thinks I'm still on his side. And why wouldn't he? On one side, there's Voldemort, who murdered my parents and keeps trying to kill me. On the other, the Ministry, which continues to slander my name."

Salazar nodded in understanding. "So, you plan to catch him by surprise?"

Harry nodded in agreement. "Exactly. Neville has started clandestinely teaching students. We've named our group 'Dumbledore's Army.' Once it's exposed, there'll be no stopping the ensuing chaos. Umbridge will seize the opportunity to oust Dumbledore and control the school. Either he fights the Ministry, indirectly helping Voldemort, or he allows the Ministry to expel thirty students, including his own martyr and those closest to him. He can't afford that."

Salazar's eyes darkened with fury. "It's no more than he deserves for attempting to sacrifice a member of my family. Were I more than a mere portrait, I'd tear him limb from limb." His wand emitted a shower of green and silver sparks, causing the silver serpent to cower behind his neck. "And what about the woman?"

Harry revealed, "On the back of the list, there's a concealed map, which I enchanted with a hidden activation phrase."

Salazar raised an eyebrow in surprise. "Where did you learn such enchantment? I don't recall teaching you any of those skills."

Harry smiled, a hint of mischief in his eyes. "Fleur is exceptionally talented in that area. She's taught me a few tricks when I've asked."

Salazar's eyes glinted with approval. "So, your time in France wasn't wasted after all."

Harry's voice took on a sardonic edge. "I'd say it's more worthwhile than listening to the ramblings of a sentient portrait."

Salazar raised his palms in mock surrender. "I understand. Please, continue."

Harry leaned forward, his expression darkening. "The map seems to lead into the Forbidden Forest, indicating something of importance. I plan to lure Umbridge into investigating it. She seems easily baited, don't you think?"

A sly smile curved Salazar's lips. "I assume she won't be returning from her little expedition."

Harry's eyes gleamed with a touch of malice. "That, my dear Salazar, is the general idea."

Harry's smile turned cold as he spoke, his eyes filled with a steely determination. "No, she won't return. There are an awful lot of acromantula in that part of the forest, and with a little nudge in the right direction, she'll end up right in the heart of their nest, completely unaware. Good riddance. She's precisely the type who would don robes and a mask for Voldemort if she believed she could get away with it."

Salazar nodded in agreement, his fingers drumming idly on the head of the serpent coiled around his neck. "And how do you plan to make the most of this momentary freedom, Harry? It's worth more than a few extra days in France, I would wager."

Harry's mind briefly wandered to Fleur, a bittersweet ache in his chest. "Nothing is worth more to me than the time I spend with Fleur," he thought, though he kept the sentiment to himself. "That's why I'm doing all of this."

"I see," Salazar replied. "But what about your godfather? What information do you hope to gain about the Department of Mysteries once it seems like Dumbledore isn't in complete control anymore?"

Harry tapped the Time-Turner hanging around his neck thoughtfully. "If all else fails, I can use this to go back and alter my conversations with Sirius until I get the information I need. Maybe he knows about the prophecy. My parents were hiding under the Fidelius, which suggests they were hiding for a reason. Perhaps the Order knows about this prophecy, and Dumbledore likely does too. He always seems to know everything."

Salazar's face lit up with curiosity. "So you're willing to experiment with the Time-Turner now?"

Harry scoffed. "No. I don't know why you're so eager to potentially lose your only descendant who isn't a mass-murdering megalomaniac to the complexities of time."

Salazar chuckled, his voice softening. "You wouldn't be lost, Harry."

Harry arched an eyebrow in skepticism. "How would you know?"

Salazar's response was cryptic but earnest. "I'm Salazar Slytherin."

Harry didn't buy it. "Nice try."

"Fine," Salazar muttered, relenting. "We'll save the experimental magic for later. Voldemort will make his move soon. If he's allowed to launch a surprise attack on the Ministry, you'll be hard-pressed to defeat him. He has many followers, and all your allies are loyal to a man who intends to see you dead."

Harry's shoulders slumped with the weight of his predicament. "What can I do, though? The Ministry won't listen, and Dumbledore already knows."

Salazar leaned forward, his expression serious. "The Ministry isn't just the handful of people you've seen. Many others may be aware or more open to reason than the official stance implies. If there's irrefutable proof, something beyond reasonable doubt..."

Harry considered it for a moment. "The newspapers always harp on about how there's no proof of his return except Dumbledore's and my word. They mention the lack of the Dark Mark as evidence that Death Eaters aren't active."

Salazar spread his arms wide, as if presenting a solution. "There you have it."

Harry frowned, still unsure. "What do I have, exactly?"

Salazar leaned forward, his eyes gleaming with determination. "That Dark Mark, Harry. If it were to appear somewhere highly visible in a manner that simply cannot be ignored, people might begin to question the Ministry's propaganda. The kind of fear that Voldemort once inspired is not easily forgotten."

Harry remained skeptical. "The Ministry will do everything in its power to cover it up."

Salazar nodded, undeterred. "So, find someone willing to publish or spread the story, or make it so spectacular that it simply cannot be ignored. Even if it's not a complete success, it will still serve its purpose."

Harry sighed, feeling the weight of the task ahead. "There's also the issue of learning how to cast the Dark Mark."

Salazar's gaze turned intense, and his voice took on a steely edge. "Find one of Voldemort's followers. You've become proficient in the mind arts—extract the spell from their mind, and if necessary, eliminate them afterward. These are not innocent lives you're dealing with, Harry. They are not errant children. If given the chance, they will not hesitate to end your life."

Harry nodded, his resolve firm. "I suspect most of them are still with Voldemort, but I'll ask around. Sirius might have some information on potential defectors." He reached for a small mirror and moved a chair into the darkest corner of the room. "Don't say anything; he has keen hearing." Raising the mirror, he called out, "Sirius."

The mirror emitted a soft, white glow that illuminated the dim study as Harry began extinguishing the lights one by one.

Sirius's face appeared in the mirror, his brow deeply furrowed. "Harry, this isn't the best time. Podmore got himself caught and was sentenced to Azkaban for being in the wrong place at the wrong time."

Harry was taken aback. "Podmore is an Order member?"

Sirius nodded, concern etched on his face. "Yes, and his situation has made reorganizing everything without him quite challenging."

Harry forced a casual tone. "I just have a quick question, Sirius. Are there any former Death Eaters I should be on the lookout for? Ones who aren't immediately obvious?"

The question lingered in the air, leaving an unsettling sense of unease as Sirius contemplated the answer.

Sirius snorted, a hint of annoyance in his voice. "I can think of one or two right off the top of my head. There are a handful of those who were acquitted under rather suspicious circumstances, like Malfoy and that axe-wielding maniac, Macnair. But the only one who's close enough to be a concern for you is Snape, though Dumbledore assures us that he's trustworthy."

Harry raised an eyebrow, genuinely surprised. "Snape?" he asked.

Sirius's face darkened with distrust. "Yes, Snape. Don't ever turn your back on Snivellus. He's not to be blindly trusted, no matter what Dumbledore may say."

Harry's mind raced, contemplating the possibilities. Snape was already connecting their minds during detentions; all he needed to do was find a way to exploit that connection somehow.

Harry decided to dig deeper. "He does seem to hate you and my father," he mused. "Did he know my mother?"

Sirius nodded solemnly. "Yes, they were friends. Close friends, in fact. They knew each other even before they came to Hogwarts. Snape was a decent lad before he sorted into Slytherin and got involved with the wrong crowd. But he's always been a greasy, spiteful, and sour bastard in my eyes."

Harry's thoughts aligned, and he saw an opportunity. "Perfect. I've got my distraction, then. All I need to do is show up for detention in a short while."

Sirius considered Harry's words for a moment and then added, "Well, I'll be taking Dumbledore's advice with a grain of salt from now on, too. A former Death Eater shouldn't be teaching at a school."

Sirius sighed, a sense of urgency overtaking the conversation. "I'm sorry, Harry, but I've got to go. This situation is getting quite serious. It's all hands on deck."

"Goodbye, Sirius," Harry replied, setting the mirror down and feeling the weight of the impending challenges ahead.

Top of Form

Salazar's voice wavered between English and Parseltongue as he spoke, a testament to the gravity of the situation. "Did I understand that correctly? Your teacher, the wizard Dumbledore forced you into learning occlumency from without even knowing you could defend your mind, was, and likely still is, a Death Eater."

Harry nodded, his expression serious. "Yes, I believe so."

Green and silver sparks cascaded at Salazar's feet as the serpent hissed, baring its fangs. "But it means he knows how to conjure the Dark Mark."

Harry stood up, a sense of purpose in his eyes. "What will I do? Like you said, I'll take it from his mind. I promised Neville I'd practice with him for the first time before my detention, so I have to go. But I'll be ready."

Salazar's tone grew more concerned. "It won't be easy. Snape is an accomplished occlumens. You'll need to manipulate him into revealing it of his own free will."

Harry met Salazar's gaze with determination. "Nothing necessary is easy. I was going to shock him. I have the memory of my mother's death; they were close friends once. It should give me a few moments, and I can memory charm my intrusion afterward. The memory of my mother's death should be potent enough to cover any chance of him remembering."

Salazar acknowledged the plan with a nod. "It's as good a plan as any. But, Harry, if it goes wrong, if he's too dangerous, you must be prepared to kill him. You can't allow him to hold information that could endanger you, Dumbledore, and Voldemort. Even if you have to flee the country, it's better than being led to slaughter later."

As Harry contemplated this grim possibility, his thoughts drifted to Fleur. "I could go to Fleur. Maybe," he thought, though the complications of such a decision weighed heavily on his mind. Her parents probably wouldn't approve.

Stepping into Myrtle's bathroom, he focused on his immediate task. "I need the incantation and the intent, that's all. If he was a Death Eater, there will be a connection. It will only take a second."

He exited the bathroom, and Myrtle, the resident ghost, floated over to him. "Harry?" she called.

Harry smiled at her. "It's me, Myrtle. How have you been? Seen anyone in the Prefect's Bathroom lately?"

Myrtle sighed. "Not that I was interested in. But I did once watch Cedric Diggory and his girlfriend take a very long bath together."

Harry blushed slightly. "I did not need to know that," he replied.

Myrtle continued, her tone wistful. "There aren't many attractive male prefects at the moment. You'd be surprised how many couples I've seen in there, though. I remember a certain dark-haired head boy and red-haired head girl going there together once."

Harry chuckled, acknowledging her observation with a wry grin. "Ah, those were different times, Myrtle."

Harry chuckled softly. "My parents. Urgh."

"Thanks for that image, Myrtle. I'm afraid I need to go; Neville's waiting for me. Take care," Harry said as he made his way out of the bathroom.

Myrtle laughed and flushed a dark silver shade. "I'm dead, Harry. The only thing that can reach me is regret."

Hastening through the corridors to Gryffindor Tower, Harry couldn't help but overhear the hushed whispers that followed him.

"Where's his glasses?" one girl asked.

"Who cares?" another whispered. "He looks better without them."

Neville awaited him near the Fat Lady, who was currently lecturing on the art of singing. Harry approached him and greeted him with a nod. "Perfect timing. Are we going up to the seventh floor?"

Harry considered for a moment and then replied, "There's not much point in going there. It won't look like we're doing much. Let's just go in here." He led Neville into an empty classroom and closed the door behind them, adding a silencing charm for good measure.

Neville watched him with some apprehension, and Harry could sense his nervous energy. "I've got the hang of clearing my thoughts," Neville said. "Even when I was angry in Umbridge's lesson."

Harry assumed a serious expression. "Well, we'll find out how well in a moment."

Neville inquired, "What are we doing?"

Harry explained, "I'll connect our minds and attempt to see your thoughts, feelings, and memories. Your job is to do your utmost to stop me from seeing anything. It won't be enjoyable, Neville, but it will help you a great deal."

Neville asked, "Will it hurt?"

Harry nodded. "Yes, it will. But you'll become a better wizard for it."

Fleur's voice echoed in Harry's mind, offering guidance. "The more it hurts to have, the more satisfying it'll be to get it."

Neville settled onto a desk, gripping it with both hands, preparing himself for what was to come.

Harry drew his wand from his sleeve and pointed it at Neville. "Legilimens."

Neville's thoughts swam before Harry's eyes. Admiration, loyalty, and devotion filled his mind, along with glimpses and flashes of their shared experiences.

Harry eventually broke the connection. "Try again, Neville. It's not easy. Legilimens."

Neville struggled to stifle the mental stream, but his thoughts gradually smoothed, the emotions grew less intense, and the glimpses became fainter and less frequent.

Harry released the spell. "That was better. Well done."

Neville looked puzzled. "What are you doing when you cast that spell? You saw all my memories of when you were helping me. You went through every moment when I was grateful to you."

Harry took a moment to explain the nature of the Legilimency spell to Neville. "I form a connection between our minds with it. It allows me to see what you're thinking, and if I can get you to think about what I want to know, I win."

Neville's concern was evident. "You're not going easy on me, are you? I've never done well with anything the second time I tried."

Harry reassured him, "I'm not employing any of the more sinister, cruel methods to extract information. I'm teaching you how to clear your mind enough to resist, not to protect a specific thought from me."

Neville insisted, "Try. Do your worst."

Harry spoke softly, his voice laced with gravity. "Do you realize what you're asking, Neville? I can dredge up your worst memories and suspend you within them, twisting them into a grotesque parody of a nightmare until your sanity abandons you."

Neville swallowed hard but remained resolute. "Do it. Those Death Eaters will try, won't they?"

With that, Harry cast the spell. The connection formed instantly, and he projected a series of memories and emotions into Neville's mind. Images of the masked Death Eaters in the graveyard, the fear of facing the basilisk, the pounding heartbeats of intense situations, the cold rush of adrenaline, and the searing pain of the Cruciatus Curse all flooded Neville's thoughts. Overwhelming fear of the Death Eaters, burning rage, the image of Bellatrix Lestrange, and the hollow, vacant eyes of his broken parents in the pristine ward of St. Mungo's played out like a tempest.

Harry ended the spell, and Neville slumped over the desk, his hands on his temples, tears streaking down his cheeks.

Harry placed a comforting hand on Neville's shoulder. "I'm sorry, Neville. You weren't prepared to face something like that so early. I shouldn't have let you convince me."

Neville wiped his tears away, determined to improve. "I'll get better."

Harry emphasized the importance of practice. "You should keep in mind that I'm quite skilled in the mind arts, and it's an obscure field I intend to master."

Neville looked up with a hint of hope in his eyes. "Did I do well? I know you saw everything, but I didn't do too poorly, did I?"

Harry nodded in approval. "You did better than you think. You resisted well for a beginner. You'll improve with practice, and that will make you stronger. Remember, it's all about clearing your mind and not giving anything away."

Harry offered Neville an encouraging smile. "You did exceptionally well. You managed to clear your thoughts successfully even when in pain. Keep practicing it; whenever you're angry, sad, or feeling emotional, try to empty your mind, and you'll quickly improve."

Neville asked, "Are we done?"

Harry nodded. "I think you've endured enough for one day. Now I have to go and endure detention with Snape."

Neville's voice dropped to a whisper. "You showed me things. You showed me what it felt like to be under the Cruciatus Curse."

Harry expressed his apologies, "I'm sorry. You asked for the worst."

Neville's response was swift and resolute. "Don't apologize. I asked for it, and I'm glad I did. It helped me understand."

Harry was curious. "Understand what?"

Neville confided, "When I was younger, I used to resent my parents for not being stronger. It was a terrible thing to do, and I know how wrong it is, but I couldn't help it. Until now, I still harbored some resentment for them not managing to resist, to stay sane, so I could have had parents like everyone else. I understand now. I can't explain how much it means to only be proud."

Harry empathized with Neville's feelings. "You don't need to, Neville. Until I knew what happened to my parents, I hated them with every fiber of my being for leaving me. Feelings like that don't fade easily." He gently removed his hand from Neville's shoulder and helped him to his feet. "You should head back to the common room. We've got an astronomy essay due for the next lesson."

Neville groaned at the reminder. "Don't remind me. Every single planet seems to be in some phase that indicates danger or imminent death. It's like how you used to describe Divination to us."

Harry couldn't help but chuckle. "It might be a valid prediction. Because if I hear Professor Sinistra whisper the phrase 'Uranus is illuminated,' I might not be able to stop laughing before I suffocate."

Neville joined in the laughter. "I guess I'd best get started. You already did some yesterday, so I have to catch up."

Harry remarked, "We're both still ahead of Ron. I overheard Hermione telling him twice yesterday that if he'd paid any attention, he'd know that there hadn't been an eclipse in over two years, so he couldn't possibly have written about it for his whole essay."

Neville agreed, "I doubt he cares at all."

Harry suggested, "If you're still up when I get back from Snape's detention, do you want to help me enchant all of Ron's chess pieces to switch sides mid-game?"

Neville inquired, "Can you do that?"

Harry grinned mischievously. "Oh, yes. He always swears when he plays, so if I use the word 'bloody' as the activation phrase, I can make them all change color at least twenty times a game."

Neville questioned, "Can't they just ignore it?"

Harry elaborated on his plan, "Not if I use different swear words for different pieces. Then they'll all change at different points."

Neville laughed, "I think I can see where Katie learned it all from."

As Neville headed back to the common room, Harry continued his journey towards Snape's office, his goal to obtain the spell he needed.

Upon arriving at Snape's office, Harry encountered the professor looming out of the shadows. Snape stated, "You're early."

Harry replied, "Be

Snape's tone, as hollow as anything Harry had ever heard, conjured the faint, sharp claws of the endless void. Harry explained, "My earliest memory, sir. An unconventional defense, to turn the attack on itself. I used to only be able to remember the words for the curse, you know. I've always known them; I murmured them to myself as a child, wondering what they meant. The Dementors in my third year let me remember the rest; it's the only memory of my mother I have."

Harry couldn't help but savor the shift in Snape's tone. Snape, who had often taunted Harry about his parents, was now faced with the reality of their deaths.

Snape's response was simple but heavy with regret. "I'm sorry. Please – please leave."

Harry turned and left the office. A scream echoed from within, followed by the sound of shattering glass and purple light flickering down the corridor.

Back in the chamber, Harry reported to Salazar, "I have the incantation. The memory of my mother's death caused him enough distress to give me the chance."

Salazar's eyes filled with shadows as he acknowledged the progress. "Good. Now use it. You didn't take that spell easily or lightly, so don't waste it."

Harry contemplated where to cast the spell and quickly reviewed his options. After some thought, he made his decision. "I'll cast it somewhere it can't be ignored. I'm going home for the first time in fourteen years."

Salazar inquired, "You can Apparate there?"

Harry nodded. "I know what it looks like; I've seen enough pictures." He focused on the image of Godric's Hollow and Apparated, leaving the chamber behind.

Harry sprawled across the wet grass, tombstones looming over him. His heart raced as he snatched his wand from the ground. The view before him showed the familiar street at the base of the hill, past the church. Harry released a long sigh as the adrenaline began to fade.

He stood and walked through the graveyard, glancing left and right until he found the familiar names engraved in stark, black letters on white marble. The words "The last enemy to be destroyed is death" were etched beneath them. Harry traced his finger over the names, lost in thought.

As he continued along the row of graves toward the gate, he passed a dozen ancient graves where the names had been worn away. Each tombstone bore a sigil at the top, an odd triangular shape with an unrecognizable design inside. Harry recognized the name on one of them: Ignotus Peverell.

A small, broken house stood in the middle of the street, covered in graffiti. Messages of well wishes and gratitude for a boy who had lost everything adorned the walls. Harry paused at one message daubed in red, a reminder that the Dark Lord would return. He couldn't help but acknowledge the truth in that warning.

Flowers lay scattered on the ground before the cold marble likenesses of his parents. The distant, pale figures brought back memories of his eleven-year-old self's vision in the Mirror of Erised. A deep melancholy washed over him, emerging from some dark, old place in his mind. Sorrow hung heavily over the stone, like thick, suffocating fog.

Harry retrieved his wand from his sleeve and pointed it up into the sky. In a hushed whisper, he incanted, "Morsmordre."

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