Chapter 8: Sectumsempra

James had just returned back to his home with Sirius in tow when Lily received an urgent message from Hogwarts. The parchment was small and its edges were torn badly. The writing on the outside seemed to have been scribbled in a rush and was horribly smudged. The ink had obviously not been given the proper time to dry before it had been folded and sent off.

The sudden arrival of the brown owl had startled James so badly that he had almost hexed the poor creature into oblivion. Thankfully Lily had calmed him down before the situation had escalated any further. His wife had sent him a questioning look, though, as she'd grabbed the letter and sent the bird away. James had just shaken his head, trying to calm his pounding heart and reduce the adrenaline pumping through his veins. He hadn't gotten the chance to tell Lily about Frank's disappearance. He'd thought he'd wait till morning as he didn't want to speak about order business in front of the twins, but the arrival of the letter now left him worried as to its content.

"Who's the letter from?" Sirius asked, plopping down heavily onto the couch.

Lily's brow furrowed, her eyes scanning the writing inside, "It appears to be from Peter, but it's odd for him to send me a note, particularly so late in the evening."

James looked over his wife's shoulder, a horrible feeling growing in his stomach. What if it was a message about Frank? He wasn't sure how Lily would react to finding out about the Longbottoms through a letter. He'd wanted her to hear it from his own mouth.

After several moments of trying to decipher the crooked penmanship, James gave up and took a seat next to his friend. He offered a shrug in response to Sirius's raised eyebrow,

"Dunno, I can't make out a word of what's written. Looks about as legible as if Padfoot were to write me a love letter."

Sirius snorted, but his thin smile looked strained and didn't seem to reach his eyes. James knew that the man was still thinking about what they had just learned from Kingsley. Both aurors didn't need to be on the Wizengamot to conclude that Frank was most likely already deceased.

"What's it say, Lil?"

James glanced up at his wife and instantly sprang to his feet, startling the girls who were playing quietly by the fire. Lily held the paper tightly despite her shaking hands, her face having gone completely white. Sirius seemed to have already guessed what the letter was about and quickly ushered the twins upstairs with promises of a visit from Padfoot.

"Lily, what does the letter say?" James gently took his wife's quivering hands in his. His heart sank as Lily looked up at him, her bright green eyes full of tears.

"Is it about Frank?" he asked softly, already knowing the answer.

Choking back her tears, Lily could only nod.

"I meant to tell you as soon as we got back, but I thought that maybe it could wait until the morning. I just didn't want to cause you any more stress tonight," James said quietly, praying that the witch would not be too upset with him.

In response, Lily let out a loud sob and all but threw herself into her husband's waiting arms. James just stood there, holding her close to him, and running his hand through her soft hair.

"I know, Lil, I know," he said softly, "But there's still hope. We'll find him before anything bad can happen. I promise."

Lily jerked back from him, tears running down her cheeks. She lifted the now crumpled parchment to her husband's face so he could see it and wailed, "No you can't promise that, James."

"W-what do you mean?"

"It's too late. Frank's already dead."

James felt as if all the air had been sucked out of the room. He just stood there, his arms falling limply to his sides. That couldn't be true. Surely not.

"Peter wrote me to let me know," Lily continued, her voice strained with emotion, "He said that Dumbledore just found out. Apparently, You-know-who killed him and there's not even a body left to bring back."

A million thoughts flooded James's head. He didn't understand how this all could have happened so quickly. Hadn't he and Sirius just gotten back from talking with Kingsley less than half an hour ago? What had changed in that short amount of time?

This time it was Lily's warm arms that wrapped around him, as he stood there in shock and utter disbelief.

"What do we do, James? Alice a-and Neville are all alone now," Lily whispered, her head pressed into her husband's chest, "It feels just like when Harry died. Like You-know-who is targeting us again, I can't lose any more of my children, James. I just can't."

His wife's desperate words worked to snap James out of his stupor. He reached up and gently wrapped his arms back around Lily, resting his head on top of hers.

"I don't know what we're going to do yet, Lil, but I promise that I will not let that evil man or any of his minions get anywhere near you or the kids. I swear to you."

Both adults hugged each other tightly and allowed the tears to fall in mourning for their friend and the young family he had left behind. The letter from Peter drifted unnoticed to the floor. On contact with the wooden panels, the parchment instantly disintegrated, leaving nothing behind but a small pile of dust.

Back at Hogwarts, Peter Pettigrew sat alone in his chambers, his head pounding with worry and regret. He gazed through the tiny window and out at the forest beyond. As he did almost every night, he found himself thrown into memories of the fateful Halloween night. In particular, he remembered the innocent little boy with bright green eyes who had looked at him with such happiness and trust.

I'm so sorry, Harry, Peter thought squeezing his eyes shut and digging his fingernails into his scalp, I didn't mean for any of this to happen. I didn't mean for you to die. My only hope is that when I finally get to see you again, you'll be able to look me in the eye and forgive me.

After Bella had guided Harry back to his chambers, he collapsed backward onto his bed, not even bothering to take his long cloak off. The witch had cast a worried look at the boy before she had hurried off to some other part of the manor, shutting the door softly behind her.

For several minutes, all Harry could do was stare up at the ceiling, his mind blissfully blank. If he tried hard enough, he could convince himself that it had all been a dream and he had never even attempted to brew that stupid draught. But, the pounding headache and stiff muscles in his neck and back made it hard for him to forget.

"AAAAGGGHHHHHH!"

Harry let out a loud yell of frustration and rolled over to pound his fist into the soft duvet. He couldn't do anything right. Not one fucking thing. All he kept doing was messing things up and proving to his father that he was useless.

Useless. Pathetic. Failure.

The words came up from somewhere deep in the young wizard's mind, burning like venom through his blood. It was everything that he feared he would become. Everything that he tried so hard not to be. And everything that he was turning into despite all of his best efforts.

"SHIT!"

Harry sat on the edge of his bed and grabbed at his hair with both hands, resisting the urge to tear it all out. So many emotions pounded through his blood that he felt like his skin was on fire. He didn't understand why his father even bothered to keep him around anymore. He doubted if the man had ever actually been proud of him once in Harry's entire miserable existence.

With this explosion of negative emotions, Harry felt his feeble Occlumency shields crumble and magic well up from deep within him. It seemed to rise up like a giant dark wave until it was pressing painfully on the inside of his skin, clawing at it, waiting for release. His magic was calling to be let out…

And Harry let it.

The teen squeezed his eyes shut and with a cry of absolute despair and frustration, he let the black wave break free from his body.

Voldemort had once likened his heir's emotional magical releases to that of Fiendfyre or even an obscurial, and no one who saw it could deny that either of these were an apt description. Harry's magic exploded out from him like a wild beast, seeping from his very pores and attacking everything and anything it made contact with. The black wave rushed out from the young wizard, searching for the source of its master's distress. It blasted through the furniture before crashing into the walls and windows of the room with a force that seemed to shake the whole wing. But the stone and glass held firm, strengthened by wards and charms cast by Voldemort himself.

As his magic struggled and fought against the protective spells, Harry's eyes suddenly snapped open. Something was off. There was a weak spot in the wards. His eyes darkened to a deep sea green as more magic surged from him, unbidden, this time focused on the one flaw it had found.

A point of focus and also an escape.

Harry couldn't help but let a small smile play on the edges of his lips as he felt the wards falter and fall under the fierce attack from his magic. A second later, the outside wall of his bedroom exploded outward, showering the courtyard below with stone and glass. A rush of ice-cold air instantly rushed in, distracting Harry. His focus suddenly gone, the wave of magic rushed back into the boy who let out a pained groan and fell forward onto his hands and knees. He stayed there for a moment his chest heaving. Harry closed his eyes against the biting cold and took a deep breath, feeling his emotions fade away, leaving behind an empty cavern in its place.

Fuck, Harry thought, what have I done?

There was a thundering crack of apparation somewhere close to him. He didn't need to look to see who had just arrived, for there was only one person who could move freely around the manor. A split second later a hissing voice reached the young wizard's ears,

"My, my Harry…what have you done now?"

Harry pried his eyes open and looked up at the imposing figure of his father. Looking around at the mess he'd created, Harry couldn't bring himself to feel anything about what he'd just done. He was too emotionally drained to care.

"You seem to have made quite of mess today," Voldemort's eyes flickered between the gaping hole where the wall had once stood and his son's pale face, "You seem to be doing that a lot lately."

"My apologies, father," fatigue was beginning to spread through Harry's limbs as it often did after such magical outbursts. He was already deeply regretting that he had destroyed his bedroom because all he wanted to do now was sleep.

"Apologies do not fix broken walls nor can they fix faulty potions."

Harry glanced toward the hole he had created and sighed, his breath making white clouds in front of his face. He hadn't meant to ruin the potion, nor had he meant to cause the whole room to be blown apart. It had felt so good in the moment, he just couldn't stop himself from letting the magic have its way.

"You need to learn to control yourself. Your magical abilities are useless if you have no power over them. I am disappointed in you that you have allowed things to get to such a point."

Harry opened his mouth to protest when Voldemort reached out and grabbed his shoulder. With an earsplitting crack, the two wizards found themselves in one of the adjoining rooms. The dark lord flicked his wand at the young wizard and instantly Harry felt warmth creep through his bones. He relaxed at the soothing feeling. He hadn't realised just how cold contact with the outside air had made him. When he finally pushed himself off the flood he noticed that Voldemort had started a fire in the hearth and had taken a seat in one of the plush chairs. The man motioned to Harry to sit, who begrudgingly positioned himself across from his father. This was a conversation he was not looking forward to and already he could feel his scar prickling uncomfortably.

"So, Harry, pray tell, what did you do to the draught that you were instructed to brew?"

Harry could already feel the tension rising in the air. He knew that whatever he said, the man wouldn't believe him. In a desperate effort to keep his frustrations at bay, Harry focused his mind on strengthening his Occlumency shields.

"I didn't do anything to the potion. I swear it on my life," Voldemort raised a brow at the young man, "I have no idea why the draught didn't work. Honestly, I have no idea."

"I believe you."

"What?" Harry couldn't keep the shocked look from his face. His father never believed a word he'd said in the past. What'd changed now?

"I said I believe you," Voldemort sat back, looking rather relaxed, "I know that you do not have the knowledge nor intelligence in potions to purposely alter my draught. I also do not think that you would be that idiotic."

Harry could not believe what he was hearing. It was like the Voldemort before him had changed completely from the angry wizard who had brutally murdered a man just an hour before. The amount of mood swings the dark lord had in one day was enough to make Harry's head spin. He couldn't keep up with them.

"Besides, the deed is done. Frank Longbottom is dead. Whatever potion you managed to create was an exceedingly good replica of the Draught of Darkness, but something you did to it nullified the reaction. This is something that would be near impossible for even myself to create."

Voldemort was now twirling his wand through his fingers idly as he studied the young wizard in front of him, "No, you did not do this."

He's angry with someone else, Harry realised, he's focused on something besides the draught.

"You are powerful, perhaps more than you will know," the man said thoughtfully, "I have no doubt that you will come in very useful to me over the next couple of years. But a mistake is still a mistake and that is something that I will not stand for, particularly from you."

Harry felt the hair on the back of his neck rise as he waited for the inevitable pain to come.

"However," Voldemort continued a frown appearing on his face, "you are lucky this time as something has come up that is far more important than your abysmal potion skills. You see I have acquired knowledge of a certain Death Eater who seems to have been passing along valuable information to our enemies, the ministry, Dumbledore, and the like."

Harry felt his curiosity suddenly peak as the threat of punishment and pain faded.

"This individual knows that I am aware of his betrayal and he knows that I will not stand for it. He had reached the end of his usefulness to me and so I want you to dispose of him… permanently."

"I am to kill him?" Harry couldn't believe what he was hearing. This day had taken so many different turns that he wasn't sure if this was a good thing or a bad thing anymore.

"Indeed."

Harry almost jumped to his feet in his eagerness. Here was his father giving him the opportunity to redeem himself, to prove he was not a failure, "Take me to him and I will do it at once."

A smirk played across Voldemort's face at his son's enthusiasm, "I cannot do that, I'm afraid. I am giving this to you as your first mission as a member of my inner circle. You must find him before you can dispose of him. Lucius has assured me that he will help you with any challenges along the way and, of course, you have others at your disposal."

Out of habit, Harry's hand reached for his wand, only to come up empty-handed.

Shit, he thought remembering throwing his wand across his now demolished room.

He'd have to have one of the house elves find it for him later. That was a future worry, though, because right now, he was experiencing his father finally recognizing him as a full-fledged and capable Death Eater. His father was putting him in charge of something…something important, not just an ambush on some low-level auror. Harry's green eyes sharpened in excitement as he asked,

"And who is it? Who am I going to kill?"

A thin smile crossed the dark lord's lips,

"You, Harry, are going to kill Severus Snape."