Under Your Spell by Ima Quidditch Fan



Summary: *** The author has been reminded via the e-mail address on file that this story is listed as incomplete and has not been updated since 2006 ***

Harry discovers his greatest power.
Rating: PG-13 starstarstarstarhalf-star
Categories: Post-HBP
Characters: None
Genres: None
Warnings: None
Challenges: None
Series: None
Published: 2006.09.05
Updated: 2006.09.10


Under Your Spell by Ima Quidditch Fan
Chapter 1: Chapter 1: Remember Me
Author's Notes:

Under Your Spell
Chapter 1: Remember Me

Have you ever had one of those moments where you came back to yourself suddenly? You know, where you were caught unexpectedly aware of your surroundings, but couldn’t figure out how you got there?

Harry Potter was having just such a moment. He could remember being on the Hogwarts’ grounds just today, seeing others milling about after the headmaster’s funeral. The colors of their robes muted just like his memory.

He could picture white, Dumbledore’s great tomb, and remember vividly looking up at the tall turrets of Hogwarts castle. It was truly a magnificent structure.

He remembered the sunlight shimmering off of fire-red hair, and tears glistening in soft brown eyes. He opened his mouth, tilted his head back and with closed eyes tried to take in enough air to move past the great lump that had taken up residence in his esophagus.

He imagined the rows of chairs, and the carriages lining the gates by the large winged boar entrance. He could hear the shrill whistle of the train as it departed Hogsmeade station, and the swish of blue Auror robes moving about the compartments.

But Harry Potter couldn’t quite remember how he came to be in Surrey. He remembered riding the train, meeting members of The Order of the Phoenix on the platform, but nothing was clear, and it had all passed by with little notice from him.

Within a crystalline moment Harry focused on one thing, the smile from Ginny Weasley as she left Platform 9 ¾ with her family. It reminded him of the first time he saw her there at King’s Cross. He couldn’t stop the corners of his mouth from turning at the thought. She was ten then, and seemed to cry and laugh at the same time running after the train and waving madly. How could she convey so many feelings to him with just one watery smile? He wasn’t certain how, but the information she imparted meant everything to him. She would remember.

“Good luck.” She had wished him as he passed through the barrier to the wizarding world.

Harry shut his eyes and rested his forehead against the cool glass of the window.

“Anything’s possible if you have enough nerve.” She had encouraged him.

A small smile broke his stoic features.

“Lucky you!” She had scolded him.

The smile grew, and he opened his eyes remembering the past.

“Then you’re not being possessed.” She had soothed him.

The upturned corners of his mouth slowly faded his eyes remained unfocused. She loved him.

“Say it again Ginny, say you love me.” Harry would never tire of hearing those words. In fact, he shivered with anticipation.

“I love you Harry. I love you. I will always love you.”

He thought about that day out by the Black Lake until the shadows of the moon crossed his floor. She hadn’t said she loved Harry Potter, the Boy-Who-Lived, or The Chosen One; she said she loved Harry, just Harry. She promised to love Harry always.

This is what worried Harry. Would she? Did she? He had things to do. Things to do that couldn’t include her, because these things could cause hurt, pain, even death. He might not survive, but she could. And if he did? If he got a chance, well, could he really live without her? Would she keep her promise?

The cycle of Harry’s thoughts always started and ended the same. My task is to defeat Voldemort. I choose to be the one to stop him. I must keep Ginny safe.

All of the Weasley family really, and Hermione, and Remus, and Tonks, the members of the Order, and the Professors of Hogwarts, and classmates, other students, even the Slythern prats, the muggles, and wizards he couldn’t name.

I have to find him and … Harry didn’t know if he could kill anyone, even a being like Voldemort. He did know that he had to keep Voldemort from irrevocably ruining families and communities, from hurting anyone else, especially those he cared for.

He recognized another strong desire, he wanted to live. Not only did Harry not want his mother’s sacrifice to be in vain, but well, he wanted to be with Ginny again.

He had to stop the killing, and gain retribution.

To do this I must first find the pieces of Voldemort’s soul and destroy them. With Dumbledore gone this seemed insurmountable. How could he do it?

The diary, the ring, the locket, Hufflepuff’s cup, something of Ravenclaw or Gryffindor, Nagini, and then Voldemort himself.

Harry removed his glasses and rubbed his eyes with the palm of his left hand. He was tired, and it was a late hour in the longest day of his life.

Harry stopped rubbing his eyes and placed his hands on each side of his temple his glasses hanging loosely from his right hand. He was crouched over the dilapidated desk in his bedroom at Privet Drive. The window near him was partially open for Hedwig to come and go. There was a light breeze and thankfully the green haze created by the foul creatures under Voldemort’s control had dissipated.

Harry looked out at the streetlight on Privet Drive; it appeared fuzzy without his glasses. He squinted his eyes wondering idly if there was an Order member nearby watching over him.

It was just a few weeks shy of a year that he sat at this very desk, waiting to see if Professor Dumbledore would really keep his promise to visit Privet Drive, and take him away at an unprecedented early date. He had had his doubts and fallen asleep waiting, but Dumbledore had come.

The headmaster had reprimanded Harry’s aunt and uncle about the care, or lack of, Harry received during his childhood and holidays from school. Dumbledore secured one last summer of safety for Harry within his relatives home. And then, to Harry’s amazement, Dumbledore included him on a mission of sorts. The headmaster and Harry persuaded Professor Slughorn to return to Hogwarts.

Dumbledore had time and time again taken Harry into his confidence over the year. He discussed Voldemort, or Tom Riddle’s upbringing, and explained his theories about the splitting of Tom’s soul.

His theory was given credibility after viewing a memory Harry attained from Professor Slughorn. In the memory, Tom asked if it was possible to create more than one Horcrux. Based on this, Dumbledore concluded that Tom split his soul seven times.

The diary, the ring, the locket, Hufflepuff’s cup, something of Ravenclaw or Gryffindor, Nagini, and Voldemort.

They looked into memories and constructed a working timeline of Tom’s whereabouts. Theorizing about possible objects Tom used for a Horcrux, and places he might have hidden them. Even now Harry didn’t know how to make a Horcux, other than it involved a planned killing - a murder, much less how to destroy one.

Dumbledore choose Harry to accompany him to try to retrieve one of the hidden Horcruxes. It was the night that Harry watched Dumbledore die, a victim of the Killing Curse cast by one he trusted. In that moment, Harry’s hatred of Snape was only eclipsed by his grief for Dumbledore.

For a brief moment Harry’s composure cracked, and in the smallest room on Privet Drive, Harry let his emotions carry him away. He couldn’t do this! He couldn’t. Dumbledore believed he could.

Harry placed his glasses on the desk and picked up the locket he and Dumbledore retrieved. It wasn’t a Horcrux. Harry’s near-sighted eyes picked closely at the chain and then at the small gold case. Its hinged cover lacked the ornately decorative ‘S’ of Slytherin’s locket, the true Horcrux, Harry had seen it in the pensieve memory.

He liked this one better. It was simple, but finely etched along the edges. Harry ran his thumb over the smooth center of the case while he thought about the note he found inside.

The note was clearly meant to be found by Voldemort. It was penned most likely by a disloyal Death Eater trying to exact a measure of revenge. It had been signed with the initials “R’, ‘A’ and ‘B’. Was it one person or perhaps three? Who did it? Who had found out about the locket-Horcrux, stolen it and replaced it with the locket Harry now held? Did they have others? Did the locket still contain one-seventh of Voldemort’s soul?

Oddly, Harry’s thoughts turned to Ginny, and how lovely she would look wearing the locket. He wondered if she would put a picture of him inside it. Did she have a picture of him? He looked to the desk and lightly touched the wizarding photo. Ginny was standing next to him after a Quidditch practice. Her hair was flying out of her ponytail and her cheeks had a pink tint to them. He held the locket up to the photo and squeezed his eyes into a thin slit. Yes, he could picture her wearing it now.

“What are you doing?”

Harry almost fell from his chair. Ron Weasley was standing in the doorway, arms crossed, with a perceptive look on his face.

“Erm, I was looking at the locket.” Harry held the locket high in the air while retrieving his glasses.

Ron cocked his head to the side and seemed to be biting both his lips in order to keep his next words from leaving his mouth.











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