Okay, I really don’t think I’m going to be very popular after this chapter. Let me just remind everyone that at the start of this story I said all relationships/character deaths would largely be as per canon and I’m just following that promise through. What happens in this chapter is a vital part of the story and needs to occur, no matter how much some people may wish it didn’t. By all means comment, but remember; non-constructive criticism will be ignored, flames laughed at, and as for death threats…well, let’s just say I’m bigger and meaner then you are.
No, really, I am.
And on that happy little note I’ll leave you to enjoy the chapter. Thanks/apologies to beta Tom aka MinistryMalcontent for his efforts. I’m sure my spelling and grammar are getting worse rather than better.
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Harry Potter and the Butterfly Effect | ||||||
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Category: Alternate Universe Characters:Harry/Ginny Genres: Action/Adventure Warnings: Death, Disturbing Imagery, Extreme Language, Intimate Sexual Situations, Rape, Spouse/Adult/Child Abuse, Violence/Physical Abuse Story is Complete Rating: R Reviews: 733 Summary: Minor events can have repercussions far beyond their size and importance. When one of these minor events occurs to a ten year-old Harry Potter he finds his world turned upside-down and it starts him down a very different path than the one he expected to follow. Hitcount: Story Total: 199432; Chapter Total: 8191 Awards: View Trophy Room Author's Notes: |
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Sunday, 20 July 1997 “I’m sorry to drag you down here at this late hour, Harry, but our intelligence suggests that Voldemort will be making his move soon. This will not wait any longer, I’m afraid,” Dumbledore said as they made their way along the dark, tiled corridor deep inside the Ministry of Magic. “That’s alright, Professor,” Harry assured him, although he secretly thought this was something that should have been dealt with months, if not years, ago. Dumbledore had arrived at Grimmauld Place earlier that evening, wanting to talk with him urgently. Neither Sirius nor Remus had been around, and he couldn’t help but wonder if the elderly wizard had timed his visit accordingly. An early bone of contention between him and Dumbledore had been the prophecy. The Flamels had discovered its existence years ago and wisely told Harry all about it early in his life. Dumbledore had clearly wanted the information suppressed and had been extremely upset when he found out that Harry had been told of it. Harry could only speculate on why the elderly Professor had been so adamant that he be kept in the dark about it, but he firmly did not believe Dumbledore’s protestations that it was to protect his childhood. Following Dumbledore’s visit that night, Harry had learnt that he was, in fact, mistaken. He didn’t know everything about the prophecy, after all. There were two things he was unaware of: that Voldemort had only heard the first part of the prophecy and was desperate to learn the rest, and that a copy of the damn thing was held in the Department of Mysteries at the Ministry of Magic. Both of these things had angered Harry greatly. The fact that Voldemort had an incomplete version of the prophecy was of vital importance and would be a major factor in the Dark Lord’s motivation and tactics. That a copy of the prophecy still existed was pure idiocy. When it became clear Harry knew the whole thing, why wasn’t it destroyed? Dumbledore acknowledged his point and suggested they rectify the matter immediately. As only those directly named in the prophecy could retrieve it, Harry needed to make this trip to the bowels of the Ministry that night. They had picked a time when the Ministry would be largely deserted. After registering with the front desk, they had descended in the lift and were now approaching the Department of Mysteries itself. Dumbledore seemed to have complete access throughout the building, and the plain black door swung open at his touch. Harry then found himself in a large circular room which was completely black. There were multiple unmarked black doors all around the room, but Dumbledore was able to go straight to the one he wanted. Harry knew that if he was separated from the old wizard, he would have a very difficult time finding his way back out. They passed through a strange room that appeared to be full of clocks, but Dumbledore’s brisk pace prevented examination of any of them. They then passed through a further door and entered a huge room filled with tall metal shelves. These shelves were all filled with dusty glass orbs. “Come along, Harry. We require row ninety-seven,” Dumbledore informed him, and they set off in search of that row. After what felt like miles, they located the row of shelves they had been seeking. “I think the orb we seek will be towards the end,” Dumbledore decided after peering at the nearest orb and started to walk down the row, occasionally stopping to check his progress. Soon he found what he was looking for. “This is what we are after,” he said, tapping at the shelf with his finger. Harry looked where Dumbledore was indicating and read the small label attached to the orb. Dark Lord and (?) Harry Potter Knowing only he would be able to touch it, and with a nod from the Professor, Harry reached up to take the orb. The second his fingers closed around the glass ball, he heard a sinister, hissing voice behind him laughing. He spun around and to his horror saw the last person in the world he wanted to set his eyes upon — Voldemort. “Hello, Harry,” he said in an amused voice. “And Albus, too. What an unexpected bonus. How lovely to see you both here tonight.” “Hello, Tom,” replied Dumbledore in a calm voice. “I’m most surprised to meet you here. How in the world did you know we would choose this night to retrieve the prophecy?” “As always, you underestimate me, Albus,” Voldemort said lightly. “I always know approximately where Mr Potter is. We do, after all, share so much.” A cold shiver ran down Harry’s back. He had suspected that he and Voldemort shared some sort of connection for some time, and after Bellatrix’s death he had become sure of it. He had, therefore, spent a lot of time and effort in building up the already considerable Occlumency shield he had in place. This was proving to be a very good idea; this close to Voldemort his scar was throbbing painfully and without the reinforcement he had little doubt he would have been in agony. “Now, Harry. I would be grateful if you could pass me the copy of the prophecy you have in your hand. Do so and I promise you both a quick, painless death. Resist me and, well, some of my associates are rather upset with you,” Voldemort said pleasantly. As soon as he spoke at least ten other people stepped out of the dark. They all wore the familiar black robes of Death Eaters and most wore masks. The man who stood closest to Voldemort did not, however. Harry thought he should recognise the man. “I’m not sure if you’ve had the pleasure,” Voldemort said, clearly enjoying himself. “Harry, may I introduce Rodolphus Lestrange, dear Bellatrix’s husband. Understandably, he’s rather annoyed with you, Harry. In fact, he begged me to allow him to be the one to torture you. What do you think, my boy? Should I allow you two to get better acquainted?” Mentally cursing, Harry looked around. They were badly outnumbered and he suspected only the elite of Voldemort’s inner circle were present. He glanced at Dumbledore who appeared calm but alert. As Harry saw it they had one advantage: Voldemort needed the prophecy intact and they didn’t. He held the glass orb out in front of him in his left hand while drawing his wand in his right. The Death Eaters instantly pointed their wands at him and Dumbledore. “Get them to back off, Tom,” Harry said clearly. “One false move and I drop the orb.” Unnervingly, Voldemort chuckled. “While I might have been concerned by your threat before, the fact that both you and Dumbledore are here makes it almost irrelevant,” he explained. “Once I kill the pair of you, the contents of the prophecy no longer matters. I admit, I’m interested in hearing the whole thing out of curiosity; but it’s hardly vital. Give me the orb, and I will kill you. Don’t give me the orb, and I will kill you slowly and painfully. The choice is yours.” Harry turned and looked at Dumbledore. Although he remained completely expressionless, his eyes briefly flicked to one side. Harry thought he could guess what the old man was suggesting and if not, well; they really had nothing to lose. He turned back to face Voldemort. “Okay, Tom. Have it your way. Take the orb!” As soon as the words left his lips, he threw the orb straight at Voldemort as hard as he could. He then spun around and fired several blasting curses at the Death Eaters stood behind them. Instantaneously, Dumbledore drew his wand and started cursing the Death Eaters to their front. Harry thought he heard breaking glass and Voldemort swearing. Harry’s blasting charms hit one of the Death Eaters squarely in the chest, blowing him backwards. The other hit one of the shelves sending pieces of broken glass flying everywhere. The two other Death Eaters ducked instinctively as they found themselves in a blizzard of glass. Using the distraction to his advantage, Harry charged the two cloaked figures. His Katana was in his hand before he realised he had summoned it, and he buried the blade deep into the stomach of the nearest Death Eater. The man screamed and tried to grip the blade with both hands, presumably trying to pull it out. Fortunately, his body shielded Harry from attack from the other Death Eater who looked on in shock. While gripping his embedded sword tightly in his right hand, he pointed his wand over the dying man’s should and cast another blasting curse. It hit the Death Eater in the face and virtually took his head off. Placing his foot in the Death Eater's stomach to give extra purchase, Harry pulled his sword from the man. It slid out with a sickening sucking sound, and the Death Eater crumpled to the floor, sobbing. He was bleeding so badly Harry gave him no more than a few minutes to live. He turned and found Dumbledore hard pressed against Voldemort. The remaining Death Eaters were stood behind Voldemort and were unable to join the action without fear of hitting their master in the back. Harry decided this wasn’t a luxury he could afford and carefully aimed over Dumbledore’s shoulder. He sent several blasting charms either side of Voldemort in the hope of taking out the remaining Death Eaters. It didn’t have quite the effect he was hoping for. One charm must have bypassed his targets and hit the far end of the row. It managed to topple the entire shelf and set off a domino effect. Harry’s eyes widened as he saw the tall shelves crashing down, sending razor sharp slivers of glass flying everywhere. Worse still, the shelves were falling towards them. “Run!” he heard Dumbledore yell, and he needed no further encouragement. Turning on his heels, he sprinted down the rows of shelves before they came crashing down on him. Surprisingly, the elderly Professor appeared to have no trouble keeping up. The rows of shelves created junctions at various points, and he blindly ran down one. Only after he passed three more rows did he realise he had been separated from Dumbledore. He could no longer hear the sound of breaking glass, so he slowed his mad charge and tried to work out where he was. Unfortunately, all the rows looked identical; and he realised he was completely lost. He wandered among the rows for a while, his blood-coated sword and wand at the ready, until it occurred to him to look at the row numbers. He was soon hurrying along one of the bisecting access strips, watching the row numbers descend rapidly. Eventually, he hit row one and found the back wall. He walked along it until he discovered the entrance to the room and slipped out. Once again, he found himself in the black, circular room containing the unmarked doors. From here, he had no idea where to go next. Did he just randomly start trying doors or did he go back and try to find Dumbledore? He would have been tempted to try and take on Voldemort, but with a Horcrux unaccounted for, that would be pointless. He vanished his sword to give him a free hand and was about to start opening doors when his head exploded in pain. “A valiant effort, Harry, but all for nothing,” he heard a familiar voice say behind him. Harry dropped his wand and pressed both his hands to his forehead. The pain was indescribable, and he felt like he was being ripped apart. He fell and was vaguely aware he was writhing on the floor, screaming his head off. Harry felt a massive pressure against his Occlumency shields, and he dimly realised Voldemort was trying to break through them. If that happened Harry would lose all control; he would effectively be possessed. Despite the unbelievable pain he was suffering, the thought of possession brought up the memory of little Ginny Weasley and how Tom Riddle had taken control of her. He remembered her laying on the floor of the Chamber of Secrets, her life force slowly draining away. Irrationally, he suddenly wished he could see her again to find out how she was doing. A second later, Harry realised his shields were failing and he could do nothing more to maintain them. The shields shattered and Voldemort entered his mind. It took a few moments before he realised he was no longer the only one screaming. He suddenly snapped to and guessed he must have passed out for a moment. His body was trembling and his face was covered in blood. A disgusting smell informed him that he lost control of his bowels and he had fouled himself. The floor in front of him was covered in vomit which he suspected was his. He was appalled to see how much blood it contained. A groaning sound made him look up, and he was horrified to see Voldemort laying on the floor only feet away from him. He didn’t look in much better shape than Harry and seemed to be having trouble focusing. What had happened to Voldemort? What had he seen within Harry’s mind that caused him to react so? Suddenly, Voldemort’s head snapped up; and Harry found himself looking into his slanted, red eyes. He could practically feel the hate radiating from the dark wizard. Glancing down, he realised that Voldemort’s wand had slipped from his grasp and lay on the floor inches away from the Dark Lord’s hand. If Voldemort reached it he was a dead man. Voldemort appeared to have realised the same thing and was crawling forward, his hand outstretched. His fingers started to wrap around the wand and Harry panicked. Using the very last of his strength, Harry lunged forward, summoning his Katana as he did so. The blow lacked real strength but was sufficient to sever Voldemort’s hand at the wrist. Voldemort screamed a hideous, high-pitched scream that turned Harry’s stomach. Blood pumped from his severed wrist and spilled out onto the already filthy floor. Voldemort grasped the stump in an effort to stem the bleeding and rolled into a ball, clutching his wounded arm tightly. Suddenly a figure hurled itself into the room. In despair Harry saw the man wore the robes of a Death Eater. The man flung himself down next to Voldemort and ripped off his mask. Harry recognised him as Lucius Malfoy, long suspected of being Voldemort’s right hand man. Malfoy immediately started casting healing spells on his master and succeeded in stopping the bleeding. “Harry!” a voice came from just inside the Prophecy room. Harry realised it was Dumbledore’s. “I’m here!” he managed to yell. Malfoy’s attention snapped from his wounded master to Harry. He pointed his wand at him. All Harry could manage in return was to feebly raise his sword. Maybe it was the fact the sword was just in reach of Voldemort’s head or the fact that Dumbledore chose that moment to burst into the room, but Malfoy thought better of trying to kill Harry and instead grabbed at a pendant hanging from his neck. A second later he and Voldemort vanished as the Portkey whisked them away. Vaguely, Harry thought he heard Dumbledore yelling his name as his vision swam before him. He fell forward onto the floor, rolling in his own blood and vomit. The last thing he saw before he passed out was Voldemort’s severed hand, lying in a pool of blood, a few feet away from him. Saturday, 26 July 1997 Dumbledore carefully closed the door to Harry’s bedroom so as to make no noise. Poppy Pomfrey was again by the young man’s bedside and was maintaining her self-imposed vigil while he healed. Albus could only breathe a sigh of relief that he was indeed healing and that Voldemort’s attempt to possess Harry had not left him with any permanent mental damage. The physical damage had been bad enough, and once again the boy had suffered terrible internal damage and blood loss. He had managed to make it as far as the front door of Grimmauld Place before he was intercepted by an angry Sirius Black. He had hoped to avoid further confrontation with the man, but Black was determined to force his point of view home. After the disaster at the Ministry, Dumbledore had transported Harry directly to the hospital wing at Hogwarts. He feared that if he took Harry to St Mungo’s too many questions would be asked. Poppy had loudly complained that the boy should be in a proper hospital, but had eventually been persuaded to attend to Harry’s care herself. Dumbledore rather suspected that Pomfrey had become rather attached to the brave young man, and secretly wanted to look after him herself anyway. She had performed to her usual high standards, and Harry was soon well on the road to recovery. After a few days he was well enough to be moved to Grimmauld Place, and Poppy had accompanied him. Since then, Dumbledore had been in near constant conflict with Harry’s godfather. Sirius had been livid that he had persuaded Harry to go to the Ministry without him, or indeed without any back-up. Dumbledore’s protests that the trip should have been risk free fell on deaf ears, and Sirius had grown more and more angry. Truthfully, Albus could not refute that the whole thing had been a near-catastrophe. If Harry had been killed at this point, then all would have been lost. No matter what remorse Dumbledore expressed, however, it was not enough for Black. “I thought I said you were only to visit Harry with me present,” Sirius snapped. Albus bit his tongue. “I only looked in on him and Poppy was present at the time,” he replied in what he hoped was a conciliatory tone. “I’ve made myself quite clear, Dumbledore. You leave Harry alone. Haven’t you done enough to him?” Sirius continued, obviously not pacified. “You know as well as I that I cannot leave Harry alone. He has a prophecy to complete and a destiny to fulfil. Only he can defeat Voldemort,” Dumbledore said wearily. “Oh, you remembered that, did you?” Sirius growled. “Then can you explain why, if Harry is so vital, you nearly got him killed?” “Sirius, I…” Dumbledore tried to say but was interrupted. “How could you let Harry face Voldemort? You know that until the final Horcrux is destroyed the bastard can’t be killed? Were you trying to throw Harry’s life away?” Sirius yelled. “Now, you know that I…” Dumbledore tried again. “NO! I should have been there! What right have you to come here and take Harry away without my permission? I’m his godfather and legal guardian, I would remind you!” “And Harry is a member of the Order and an experienced fighter!” Dumbledore said forcefully. “He’d be the first to complain if we tried to wrap him in cotton wool.” “There’s a difference between wrapping him in cotton wool and leading him on a suicide mission!” Sirius persisted. Dumbledore raised his hands in supplication. “If I had thought there was any danger involved, I wouldn’t have let Harry anywhere near the Ministry,” he said. “Well, unfortunately, your judgement seems to have become somewhat impaired of late,” Sirius shot back. “In the future I will have the final say in any mission or task that you want Harry to perform. Got that?” “Your message is quite clear,” Dumbledore confirmed with a calmness he didn’t feel. “I’ll bid you goodnight, Sirius.” He slipped out the door and away from Black’s malevolent gaze. An hour later Dumbledore sat at the desk in his office brooding. First the Flamels, now Black, had turned against him. It appeared that his original gut instinct to leave Harry with the Dursleys had been correct. Maybe if he’d applied some memory charms to the family Harry could have remained there? Dumbledore scowled; it was pointless thinking such things now. In just a few days Harry would be seventeen and legally an adult. Dumbledore’s chain of thought was suddenly interrupted by the arrival of Severus Snape. The man staggered into the office in obvious pain, his normal pale completion now deathly white. He dropped into a chair. “Severus, what happened?” Dumbledore asked in alarm. “The Dark Lord is not pleased,” Snape gasped. “All week he has been in the foulest of tempers. He’s killed three minor Death Eaters stone dead. I myself have experienced the Cruciatus Curse on a level I have never imagined in my worst nightmares. I was lucky to escape with my sanity intact.” Dumbledore hurried over to a cupboard and removed a large purple bottle. He handed it to Snape who drank from it gratefully. Only when the bottle was nearly drained did Snape continue. “I’m not going back, Albus. Next time he’ll kill me,” Snape said bitterly. “You must, Severus. It’s vital you maintain your position within Voldemort’s inner circle,” Dumbledore implored. “I won’t be much use to you dead,” Snape snapped. “The Dark Lord already doubts me. He feels someone as close to you as I am should be proving more in the way of useful information. Frankly, I see his point. If I’m to go back I need to give him something of value.” An idea immediately entered Dumbledore’s mind. Initially, he rejected it — it was far too much of a betrayal. But, when you are in a position of responsibility, you have to look at all ideas, no matter how unpleasant they could seem. Mentally, he weighed up the positives and negatives, and then sighed deeply. He would have no choice. He turned to Snape. “I think we can provide some information that will please Voldemort,” he said before outlining his plan. Tuesday, 5 August 1997 “This is a waste of time, Moony,” Sirius griped. “Do you really think they’re learning anything?” “It’s all good practice, Sirius,” Remus assured him. He pointed to the two new Order members making their way carefully through the rubble. “Those two seriously need training. There’s no way they're ready to face Voldemort’s forces.” Sirius frowned as one of the new recruits slipped and nearly fell flat on her face. “Maybe your right,” he sighed. “Besides,” Remus continued, “it gives us something to do while we’re waiting for Harry to get back on his feet.” Sirius acknowledged the logic in that. They had been sitting twiddling their thumbs for a week now while Harry inched back to complete health. He was back in training but still had some way to go before he was back to full strength. Yesterday, Mad-Eye had cornered the pair of them and suggested they take two of the more inexperienced Order members for a training exercise. This explained why they were currently sifting through the ruins of this old castle under the pretence of it being a ‘reconnaissance’ mission. “So, what’s your evaluation of our recruits, then?” Remus asked with a smile. Sirius rolled his eyes. “The witch, whatshername? Oh yeah, Tyburn, she’s not too bad. A bit panicky, though. Ronson’s a bit of a waste of space, if you ask me. I wouldn’t trust him to do a cleaning charm right,” he grumbled. Remus only chortled in reply. The two recruits were a little way ahead of Remus and Sirius. They were in a box formation, but the amount of rock and debris from the crumbling castle made this difficult to maintain. Ronson was a little ahead of the rest of them when he was forced to scramble up a pile of rubble. When he reached the top he stopped in surprise. “Who are y…” he began. “Avada Kedavra” a voice shouted from the other side of the rock pile. Ronson fell limply to the ground. “COVER!” Sirius screamed, diving behind the remains of a wall. He looked over to see Remus dart into an alcove, his wand at the ready. Tyburn stood mesmerised for a second before turning around and running. As she ran past him Sirius reached out and grabbed the back of her robes, pulling her to cover. “What’s going on?” the shaky witch asked, her eyes wide. “Death Eaters, that’s what’s going on,” Sirius informed her while trying to peer round the wall. Just as he did a blasting hex sailed towards him and impacted on the wall, sending fragments flying everywhere. Sirius darted back under cover. He turned and grinned at Tyburn. “I think your training has just become a bit more realistic.” “Sirius,” Remus called from cover. “Whoever these people are, they’re good. I think a tactical retreat is called for.” Sirius frowned. He hated the idea of running without putting up a fight. The sound of Tyburn whimpering convinced that wouldn’t be a good idea, however. “Okay, let’s Apparate out of here,” he called back. He was just preparing to stand when he heard Remus swear. “Shit!” the werewolf cursed. “Anti-Apparation wards!” Sirius grabbed at a small locket which hung around his neck. Nothing happened. “Bugger,” he yelled. “Same with the Portkeys.” “You mean we’re trapped?” Tyburn asked. She sounded like she was starting to panic. “We’re not finished yet,” Sirius snapped. “I’ve been in tighter jams than this.” He was well aware that might have been a complete lie because he hadn’t a clue how bad the situation actually was. They’d not caught a glimpse of their opponents at all, and the silence was ominous. Suddenly, a curse hit the wall right next to Tyburn. Sirius turned and launched a spell at a shadowy figure he thought he saw lurking in the ruins of a tower. He doubted he hit anything. “Damn, they're behind us. We have to move…now!” Grabbling Tyburn by the arm he sprinted over to where Remus was knelt. The alcove gave some cover but they couldn’t stay there forever. “Any ideas?” Remus asked. “Fight our way back the way we came,” Sirius shrugged. There really didn’t seem anything else they could do. “Okay,” Remus agreed. “Sirius, you go first, then Tyburn and I’ll follow up the rear.” “Right. Go!” Sirius charged from cover and ran as fast as he could towards the ruins of some old buildings. He could hear Tyburn behind him and he only hoped Remus was following. Halfway across, spells began to impact around them. “KEEP MOVING!” he yelled as fragments of stone and wood battered him. He was nearly to the buildings when he heard a scream from behind him. He turned and saw Tyburn sprawled on the floor. Remus was running up from behind and grabbed Sirius to stop him turning back. “She’s dead!” Remus bellowed. “Keep going!” The two men sprinted the last few yards and darted into the nearest building. Remus flattened himself by the doorway and tried to peer out while Sirius looked for an exit. There wasn’t one. “Shit,” he cursed. “I think this is an old stable block. The far end is totally caved in. This is the only way out.” “Damn,” Remus snarled. “We can’t afford to get pinned down in here. Let’s move now!” He made to run out the door but a volley of spells impacted around him, forced him back. For a second Sirius was worried the whole wall would collapse, such was the force of the explosions battering against it. He covered his face with his arm and waited for the barrage to end. A few moments later the onslaught ceased and silence reigned. He looked up at Remus who was pressed flat against the wall with his face bleeding. He looked fearful. Then, a voice called out clearly to them. “Sirius Black! Remus Lupin! We know you’re in there. We’ve been watching you since you arrived. You have no hope of escape so make things easy on yourselves. Throw out your wands and surrender,” the voice called. Both men stared at each other in horror. They both knew that voice well. “Lucius Malfoy!” Sirius spat. “What’s that bastard doing here?” “Let’s find out,” muttered Remus, before putting his head round the door frame and yelling, “What do you want, Malfoy?” “Why, I want you, you miserable werewolf. You and that traitorous disgrace to the name Black.” Malfoy called calmly. “How did they know we were here?” Sirius demanded. “It can’t have been luck, can it? Have we stumbled on a Death Eater base by mistake, or something?” “I think we’ve been set up,” Remus said. “I caught a glimpse of some of them out there. In addition to Malfoy I saw Dolohov and Yaxley. I’m not sure but Fenrir might have been there too.” Sirius risked a look out of a window. “Hell, there must be at least twenty of them out there! I’m pretty sure I saw Macnair as well,” he gasped. “So, we’re outnumbered ten-to-one; we can’t Apparate; and there’s no other exit from this building?” Remus asked in a flat voice. Sirius looked up at him sharply. “Don’t give up yet! We’ve got out of some tight spots before. We’ll think of something,” he urged. “There’s no point hiding,” Malfoy’s voice called again. “If you don’t come out, we’ll just blast that building into dust.” Sirius and Remus looked at each other for a second. Sirius’s mind was running a mile a second but, try as he might, he couldn’t think of a plan to save them. “Well, we’ve had a good run,” Remus said quietly. Sirius looked at him in horror. They couldn’t just give up, they just couldn’t. But what else was there to do? He suspected that the force out the front weren’t alone, and they had run out of options. A lump formed in his throat. “Yeah, we have,” Sirius replied after a moment. Remus looked pale. “I want to tell you, you’ve been the best friend a man could ever want. If I hadn’t met you and James, I don’t know what would have happened to me,” Remus said in a thick voice. “You too, mate,” Sirius replied. “I guess we’ll get to see James and Lily again, and Tonks.” “Do you think she’ll forgive me?” Remus asked. “Mate, I know she’ll be there waiting for you,” Sirius said with a smile. “We’re waiting,” Malfoy called again. “Do you know who I feel sorry for?” Sirius asked. “Us?” Remus replied with forced humour. Sirius laughed. “No. Harry. First he loses his parents, then, after the Flamel’s take him in, they die, too. Now, just as he gets close to us…” he left the last part unfinished. “Any way we can get a last message to him?” Remus asked. “Not that I can think of,” Sirius shook his head sadly. “Right, you have ten seconds,” Malfoy yelled. “ Ten…nine…” “We’re going to take a lot of the bastards with us, right?” Sirius growled. “Oh, bloody hell, yes!” Remus grinned. “On three?” Sirius asked. Remus nodded. “One…two…three…MARAUDERS!” Both men charged from the building, hurling spells in all directions as they ran. HPHPHPHPHPHPHPHP Sitting alone in his office at Hogwarts, Albus Dumbledore nursed a glass of Firewhisky in his hand. Sometimes he hated the injustice of his life. Why had fate decreed that he should shoulder the burden of command? Why was it that he had to make all the hard decisions? He sighed; it was an old argument he had with himself many times. The answer was simple — with power came responsibility, and his responsibility was to the Wizarding world at large. He couldn’t afford to think of just a few individuals. He drained his glass with one well-practised flick of his wrist. He then turned and looked in disgust at the chess board which sat nearby. With a heavy heart, he reached over and removed the two white knights from the board. Wednesday, 6 August 1997 Harry walked slowly across the courtyard, his face a mask. His stomach clenched when he spotted Mad-Eye Moody standing in front of four sheet-covered shapes lying on the ground. They had been arrayed in a neat line with perfect spacing between them. With every part of his body screaming at him to stop, he made his way over. Mad-Eye intercepted him a few yards in front of the shapes. He clamped his hand on Harry’s shoulder. “Sorry, lad,” he said gruffly. “The two on the right.” Harry made his way over to where Moody had indicated and gently lifted the sheet off the shape on the extreme right. He looked at the body underneath for a moment, before replacing the sheet. He then stepped over to the next one and repeated the process. For a second he stood, desperately trying to get his emotions under control. He had to get out of there. This had been a really bad idea, insisting he saw their bodies… He quickly made his way back, aware of Moody watching him all the way. Once he was clear of the courtyard, he Apparated back to Grimmauld Place. He paused for a moment on the doorstep, not sure he had the strength to enter. This was Sirius’s house. With tears in his eyes he pushed the door open and went in. The Elves bustled about him in concern the second he walked in. Even Kreacher, who hated Sirius, wisely kept silent. Harry was led into the kitchen and a steaming mug of tea forced into his hands. The kitchen. It was always the bloody kitchen. Whenever someone he loved or cared for died, he always ended up in the kitchen, drinking cups of bloody tea. He had an urge to throw the mug at a wall, but thought it would only upset Misty. Instead, he sat there, drinking tea and stewing in his own misery. He’d lost track of how long he’d been sat there when the kitchen door opened and Dumbledore walked in. He looked tired and old, like the weight of the world was on his shoulders. Without being asked he flopped down in a seat opposite Harry and looked at him. “I’m truly sorry, Harry,” he said in a softly. “Sirius and Remus were fine, fine men. They will be missed.” “How…why…I mean, what were they even doing there?” Harry asked in a broken voice. “A simple training exercise for two new recruits. We picked that castle because we thought it was completely empty. The Death Eaters had no reason to be there.” Dumbledore explained. “Then why were they?” Harry spat. “How did they know Sirius and Remus would be there?” “I suspect we have a spy within the Order,” Dumbledore said. He quickly raised his hand as Harry looked up in anger. “And before you say it, no, not Professor Snape. I can give you my assurance that I’m one hundred per cent certain that the information leak didn’t originate from him.” “Then who?” Harry asked. “I don’t know, but I will do my utmost to find out. Have you given any thought to what you want to do now?” Dumbledore asked. The question caught Harry by surprise. There was still a war going on and one more Horcrux to find. But the more he thought about it, the more uncertain he became. He was an adult now and could theoretically do whatever he pleased. His first thought was to carry on with what he had been doing, but he quickly dismissed that. They had come up against a brick wall with no idea where to look next. He glanced round the kitchen and also realised he couldn’t stay here. It would just be too painful. He looked at Dumbledore. “I suppose you have a suggestion?” he asked rather gruffly. “Actually, I do,” Dumbledore replied, seemingly not taking offence. “Are you still convinced that the last Horcrux is at Hogwarts?” Harry though for a second. “I can’t think of anywhere else it might be.” “Well then, I think you should be given the opportunity to search for it. Harry, I think you should suddenly develop a desire to finish your education at Hogwarts.” Harry stared at the old wizard for a moment before nodding. What other choice did he have? |
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