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SIYE Time:23:33 on 28th March 2024
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Harry Potter and the Lord of Immortality
By Awakening5

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Category: Post-OotP, Alternate Universe
Characters:Albus Dumbledore, All, Remus Lupin, Ron Weasley, Severus Snape, Sirius Black
Genres: Action/Adventure, Humor, Romance
Warnings: Death, Disturbing Imagery, Mild Sexual Situations, Sexual Situations, Violence
Rating: PG-13
Reviews: 69
Summary: The war is beginning, and Voldemort seeks to cast fear into the hearts of the wizarding world as reality hits: he is immortal. Harry Potter struggles to accept his new role in the war and find a way to destroy the man who can't die. AU 6th year. Canon ships, especially HG.
Hitcount: Story Total: 49616; Chapter Total: 3735
Awards: View Trophy Room




Author's Notes:
I figured I’d post more than just a prologue to start off the story. You’ll notice a little inspiration from Ender’s Game in the beginning of each chapter.
Also, I’m fifteen chapters ahead of posting in my writing, and it’s funny how much longer my chapters have gotten throughout the story…




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“Just give me some answers! If this is what death is like, I want no part of it, James!”

“Well, you may be the first person ever granted that wish.”

“What do you mean?”

“Tom Riddle was due here nearly fifteen years ago. He evaded the dead, broke our rules. Now we need to ensure he gets what’s his.”

“So…I’m going back? To kill him?”

“You’re going back–if you want, that is. But you won’t be doing the killing.”

“Harry?”

“ Yes…Harry.”

-0-0-0-

Harry Potter lay on his back on the hard, wood floor of his room. Privet Drive. What a miserable place. The misery was compounded, of course, by the incessant thoughts of Sirius falling through the veil. By the prophecy’s words echoing in his mind. By his foolishness and guilt.

Harry held a tennis ball in his hand and lobbed it into the air, tracking it absentmindedly through the air, and catching it again. He repeated this action hundreds of times each night as he tried to calm his thoughts enough to sleep.

The pain and confusion of having Voldemort in his mind was gone–it hadn’t reared its ugly head since that fateful day in the Department of Mysteries. However, now that his mind was cleared of the Dark Lord, it could be more easily filled with feelings of how stupid Harry had been over the last year. Whether Harry was beating himself up about the shortness with which he treated his best friends or how he forgot about the two way mirrors, he couldn’t move past his own idiocy.

For three weeks, he had repeated this nightly ritual of meditative chastisement. And it actually helped. It was remarkable what over one hundred hours of dwelling on one subject could accomplish. And now that his head never ached with the pain of Voldemort, his thoughts were much less crowded and befuddled. Three conclusions were drawn in his time throwing the ball up and down.

First, he needed to change his attitude. And fast. Sure, Harry had more difficulties than your average teenage wizard. Hell, more than your average grown wizard. Fine, more than any wizard. So, he could grant himself some leniency when it came to his attitude problems of the past. And he would be forgiving of himself going forward. But he wanted to kick himself every time he thought of the countless fights he had had with Ron and Hermione or that time he had been inconsiderate of Ginny’s time being possessed by Voldemort. He felt sick about his attitude. Beyond that, he realized over the past three weeks that no amount of sulking or guilt over Sirius’ death or self pity over the prophecy would get him any closer to a happy and danger-free life. His attitude needed to change.

Second, he needed to prepare himself. This was easier said than done. Harry couldn’t exactly practice magic outside of school. And while he wasn’t the most studious in the past, Harry wasn’t a slacker either. So he didn’t know how much more a little extra studying could help him. But he would do everything in his power to get ready for his next, inevitable, encounter with Voldemort. He didn’t know when that encounter would come though, and this brought him to the final epiphany of his nightly reflections.

He needed to demand truth from those around him. Sitting upstairs while the grownups discussed the war was no longer an option. Inwardly wondering why Dumbledore avoided his gaze was a thing of the past. Young or not, Harry was at the forefront of this battle and he would no longer stand there ignorantly. As touching as Dumbledore’s notion of wanting to keep him safe and innocent had been, it was naïve and had contributed to his godfather’s death. No longer would Harry’s stupid actions be avoidable with a little more information from Dumbledore. If Harry made a mistake in the future, he didn’t want anyone else to blame for it. All that did was make him angry.

This train of thought made Harry glance to his right where a letter lie on the ground, opened and read several times.

Harry —

While I know how much it must pain you to leave the Dursley’s so soon, I am afraid I must ask you to depart. The Weasley family has kindly offered their home for you to stay in. I will come to pick you up tomorrow night at ten o’clock.

Yours,
Albus Dumbledore

Harry had laughed at the first line, and hoped that Dumbledore was, indeed, being sarcastic. Harry couldn’t believe that the old man was so blind to his despair at the Dursley’s. However, Harry figured it was a joke because of the proposition that followed. It would be wonderful to spend nearly the entire summer with the Weasleys.

Harry was a little anxious as to what his reaction to seeing Dumbledore would be. He still couldn’t make up his mind on how he felt about the man. If he had just trusted Harry with some more information, a lot of hurt and confusion could have been avoided the previous year. After all Harry had been through, he thought Dumbledore would trust him more.

Then again, Harry often reasoned with himself, perhaps it was never an issue of trust. It may have been just as the Headmaster suggested. He had begun to care for Harry, and this love got in the way of his reason. He didn’t want to thrust Harry into the war just yet, even if he was destined to be there.

In either case, Dumbledore had been wrong. But Harry had to admit that his intentions made a world of difference with how he felt about the man. After all, Harry thought to himself, how often have I made a mistake while having good intentions?

Sirius came immediately to his mind, and he knew he would have to forgive Dumbledore if he didn’t want to be a hypocrite. It wouldn’t be easy, and Dumbledore would have to earn his trust again. But Harry was willing to give it.

Harry glanced at the clock and saw that it was well past three in the morning. His mind finally felt relaxed enough to sleep, so he climbed up off the ground, set the tennis ball on his night stand and lay in bed.

That night his dreams were filled with Sirius taunting Bellatrix Lestrange, getting hit with a curse, and falling into the veil. His face a picture of shock and regret as he flew backwards. This was no strange occurrence for him. But then, a new development in the dream shocked Harry awake.

The sun was out, the time showed it to be early morning. Harry breathed heavily and tried to remind himself, he’s gone. He is gone! Even if you did just see him climb out of the veil…

-0-0-0-

Al bus Dumbledore was getting old. Magic was a beautiful thing that could be manipulated to slow or decrease the consequences of time. But unless one wanted to venture into the Dart Arts, old age was inevitable. Yes, age had slowed Albus down, but he was finding emotional baggage to be the true weight on his shoulders at the moment.

He apparated to Privet Drive and began walking down the street. He kept his wand out, never too careful. He may not be as paranoid as Alastor, but he wasn’t foolish, either. But again, his true fears were not in an ambush, but in what awaited him at Number 4.

Albus Dumbledore was not accustomed to making mistakes. When he did make them, they were generally acceptable and understandable because he was making assumptions based on vague details–and even then he was generally correct. Early in his life, he had been chosen to be Leader of the Light. With this responsibility came added understanding, logic, a bit of premonition, and above all, promptings from Magic itself. These added skills kept Dumbledore from making great mistakes. But Magic’s direction for him was becoming less and less clear. And when Dumbledore’s emotions and feelings for Harry entered the equation, the right choice became harder and harder to make.

Harry Potter defied his logic and understanding, for he felt a grandfatherly love for the boy. He wanted nothing more than to take the boy and hide him on some distant island to keep him from danger. It started the night before the Potters went into hiding. He held Harry in his arms, the young toddler playing with his beard. Then the boy looked into Dumbledore’s eyes, and Albus’ heart melted. He had never seen such innocence and purity in someone’s soul as when looked into Harry’s bright, green eyes.

Months later, at the direction of Magic, he left him in the hands of muggles. For years, as Dumbledore received news of the emotional abuse Harry suffered at his relatives’ hands, he had to wonder why? Why was the Boy-who-lived to receive such treatment? Had he, Dumbledore, understood the will of Magic incorrectly? Had Dumbledore made a mistake?

Hindsight, normally a perfect vision, still could not give him a clear answer. While it was crystal clear the boy never felt love here, he also became a wonderful human being. Was this because of, or despite, his difficult upbringing? Was Harry simply being prepared and shaped by his surroundings into the pure and humble young man he became?

Albus neared Number 4 Privet Drive and stood still, staring at the house. He gazed at the porch where he had left Harry nearly fifteen years earlier and tried to keep himself from asking ‘what if’. He had little love in this home, and Albus hoped the boy would never have to return, blood protection or no blood protection. Albus was fairly sure, if he understood the plan correctly, that Harry would never set foot in this house again. And that gave Albus cause to smile, if only for a moment.

Albus reflected briefly on the boy’s journey since leaving this house the first time. Albus had been intrigued to find out what kind of a boy he had become. Mrs. Figg had told him some vague things, but he couldn’t completely trust her perceptions. As it turned out, his character was better than Albus had ever hoped. He was smart, kind, brave, and a bit mischievous. Albus was amazed as the eleven year-old defeated a troll, hid a dragon for a friend’s sake, and became the youngest seeker in a century. Albus was prompted that year to bring the Stone to Hogwarts, despite having it on good authority Voldemort was after it. It seemed that Harry was to be tested, to be trained and molded by experience. And boy, did he pass.

His second year he faced fear and death in the form of a basilisk and a teenage Voldemort, all the while dealing with his fellow students turning against him. Albus didn’t know all of the details perfectly, but he had a suspicion the boy had also created Polyjuice Potion with his friends and escaped the lair of Acromantulas. Again, Albus saw Harry become a hero, build character that no other boy could or should have at his age.

Up until Harry’s third year, Dumbledore knew of Harry’s bravery, desire to do good, and magical potential. What he didn’t expect was Harry’s great mercy he demonstrated towards his parents’ betrayer, Peter Pettigrew. If there was any doubt left in Albus’ mind that Harry would gain the power that Voldemort knows not, it vanished as Harry confirmed his pure heart on that night.

Unfortunately, Albus’ bad decisions continued that night as well. It would have been the perfect time to hear the prophecy. He had just heard Professor Trelawny give a real one earlier that day. He knew that Peter would be rushing off to find his Master. He had experienced enough in his life that he could take it. But Albus had wanted to keep him safe just a little longer. He ignored the little voice in his head that told him it was time.

The old man shut his eyes tightly and shook his head. And you always know best, don’t you? He chided himself. That was when the promptings from Magic started to get dimmer and less frequent. He should have trusted them, should have trusted Harry.

Albus made excuse after excuse. Too young, too traumatized, too vulnerable to Voldemort’s mind. But the problem was never with Harry. It was with Albus.

Too hesitant. Too disillusioned. Too scared.

Albus raised his hand to knock on the door before him. He feared what awaited him on the other side. Would Harry have cracked, the latest of his traumas being too great to handle on his own? Would he resent Albus for everything that had happened? Albus knew in his heart of hearts that Harry was better than all of that. Better than him.

He knocked on the door and waited. Inside, he heard a man grumbling about unexpected visitors at ungodly hours. Albus smiled to himself when he realized Harry hadn’t warned his aunt and uncle. Perhaps he would be able to get back at the pair for the contempt with which they raised Harry.

The door swung open, and a portly man stood inside. The man’s jaw dropped as he looked Albus up and down. Albus always prided himself on his eccentricities–in dress and behavior. It kept his friends entertained and his enemies guessing. And right now, Vernon Dursley was certainly stuck guessing what exactly stood before him.

“Good evening, Mr. Dursley. My name is Albus Dumbledore, Headmaster of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. I expect you are having a good day?”

The man just gaped back at him. Albus smiled back at him. “Is Harry home?”

After a long pause, where Vernon seemed to gather himself, he turned his head and shouted back into his home, “BOY!” Dumbledore noticed that Vernon was slowly closing the door, and blocking the shrinking entrance with his impressive girth.

Because of his height, however, Albus could easily see over Vernon’s shoulder as Harry reached the bottom of the stairs and slowly walked to the door, dragging his trunk. Albus sighed in relief that the boy looked healthy enough. Whether by malnourishment from his relatives or a lack of appetite from guilt and sorrow, Dumbledore had feared Harry would not be taken care of during his three week stay at the Dursley’s.

But his fears were alleviated as Harry stepped forward, his movements sure and strong. His head was up, and his eyes met Albus’ own. Gone was the innocence that had captured his heart when Harry was but a small child. But, miraculously, the purity remained.

“Boy,” Vernon’s harsh tone interrupted Albus’ train of thought. “Someone is here to see you, and I’d appreciate it if you didn’t have your freak friends come calling at my house!”

Harry held his uncle’s gaze, and Albus had to wonder how long Harry had been able to stand up to his Uncle’s verbal abuse. “Of course, Uncle Vernon. Though you may be pleased to know that this caller is here to take me away from your house. Sorry to have burdened you so much these past few weeks,” Harry said caustically. Harry turned to Albus and spoke, much to Albus’ relief, in a much softer tone. “Evening, Professor.”

“Good evening, Harry,” Albus replied kindly, not letting his nerves show in his demeanor or voice.

Vernon’s face was red. “Well, what are you waiting for, then? Get out!”

“Gladly,” Harry replied. “If you would just move to the side so I can leave. Unless you want me walking through the wall?”

Albus was sure Harry didn’t know the magic necessary to walk though solid objects, but Vernon wouldn’t know that. Growing redder in the face, apparently appalled that Harry would even consider performing magic in his home, Vernon threw the door open and stepped aside.

Albus smiled as Harry walked past him onto the front porch. Albus turned back to Vernon who was trying to reach the door to shut it quickly. “Thank you, Mr. Dursley, for your hospitality. I think a reward is in order–perhaps a remodel, free of charge?”

Vernon’s eyes widened in fear as Dumbledore raised and waved his wand. “Have a great day,” Dumbledore said, turning on his heel and leading Harry with him. Albus was happy to see an amused smile on Harry’s face as he craned his neck to see the Dursley’s new front room. Number 4 Privet Drive now seemed to be going for a Hogwarts look, with the entryway tile being replaced by old, warn stone. The drab pastel curtains were now bright purple with yellow stars gleaming brightly on them. The simple rug was now lavish and lush, and ornate picture frames filled with paintings of Merlin and the Knights of the Round Table hung on the walls. One of the frames even held a beaming Harry Potter–the first picture of him the house had ever seen.

After sending his trunk ahead to the Burrow, Albus led Harry down the sidewalk towards the boundaries of the anti-apparation wards. “Harry, I would like to make a stop before we go to the Burrow. But I will understand completely if you don’t want to.” Albus stopped and turned to look at Harry before adding, “I would like to take you to Grimmauld Place to show you something and discuss your future.”

Harry’s eyes darkened for a moment. He looked down at his feet and shook his head slowly. When he looked back up, his face was full of resolve. “I didn’t expect to go back so soon…why are we going?”

“I’d rather not talk here, Ha–“

“No!” Harry interrupted harshly. Albus paused, worried about Harry’s outburst. He could make several conjectures as to why Harry would be upset at this moment, but decided just to let the boy explain himself.

“Sorry, sir. I shouldn’t have…”

“Of course you should have, Harry. What is it?”

Harry swallowed. “I’ve made some decisions, sir. I’ve already gone against one of my goals, though, in order to follow through on another.”

“Decisions, Harry?”

“Fix my attitude, for one. Not so successful so far,” Harry chuckled lightly. “Also, I don’t want to be led around blindly any more. I want to know what is going on so I can prepare myself for Voldemort.” Harry looked back at Albus, the resolve on his face once more.

“So, I guess I’m going to ask you as kindly as I can why we are going to Grimmauld Place so I can decide if I want to or not.”

Albus felt pride and shame simultaneously fill his heart. While he may not be perfectly executing them, Harry’s intentions were once more as pure as possible. He had made mature goals that were his to make and was trying to follow through on them. Albus was proud of the boy. Meanwhile, Albus continued to show his own sense of superiority in assuming he knew better than Harry. He shook himself as he tried to readjust his frame of mind.

“Well, Harry, just as you have come up short with one of your goals, so have I. I had hoped to keep you more informed–in fact, that’s what the trip to Grimmauld Place is all about. And ironically, I reverted back to my previous mindset on my way to rectifying it.”

Harry smiled softly. “Well, as long as we’re both making mistakes, I guess we can’t hold it against each other too much.”

Albus nodded. “I would appreciate that very much, Harry. And to answer your earlier question, I would like to take you to Grimmauld place to discuss the war, your role in it, and your training–if you want it, that is. The reason for going to Grimmauld Place to have this discussion is that your training will be taking place there this summer. Again, if you want it.”

Harry’s eyes seemed to brighten at the thought before he said, “I’d like that very much. The training, I mean. And I suppose I’m going to have to go to Grimmauld Place at some point. What’s the difference between sooner rather than later, right?” Harry seemed to be saying this more to himself than to Albus.

“Well, then come along. We are nearly outside of the anti-apparation wards.” They began walking, and Albus explained to him how side-along apparation worked. Soon enough, they were outside the wards, but before Harry grabbed onto Albus’ arm, figurative alarm bells started to ring in Albus’ head. “Wand out,” he ordered Harry softly as he raised his own.

He knew there were Death Eaters close. Odds are that they were simply spying on the house from as close as the protective wards would allow. Certainly they wouldn’t be foolish enough to attack Albus Dumbledore. Just as the thought crossed his mind, however, a brightly colored hex soared through the air at him.

With a wave of his wand, the orange-hued spell halted and reversed its trajectory. Albus watched as a shield went up to protect the disillusioned caster. Albus waved his wand several more times. A nearby plastic pink flamingo flew to life and soared overhead at the same time as the Death Eater lost his invisibility charm. Meanwhile a second and third Death Eater were revealed from their own hiding places. Finally, a small anti-apparation dome came into place. Albus hoped that his aggressors would have no portkeys, as portkey wards took much more time and energy to put into place.

Seeing that they were discovered, the Death Eaters nodded to themselves and began throwing curses at Albus and Harry. Albus was glad to see Harry immediately protect himself with a shield charm and move towards a street lamp to offer a physical shield as well. Albus approached the three Death Eaters confidently, with the flamingo flying overhead. He sidestepped two killing curses while returning his own fire. Years of dueling experience and magic sensing gave him a great advantage, as he was always a step ahead of the Death Eaters. His transfigured flamingo soared from behind the Death Eaters, hitting one in the back of the head. This opening was all Albus needed to render the man unconscious with a simple stunning curse. One of the other Death Eaters then turned his attention on the flamingo, deciding to take out the easiest target first.

Had the situation not been serious, Albus would have laughed at the man’s stupid use of the killing curse. He was wasting precious magical energy on a transfigured flamingo. This left a second opening, and the Death Eater dropped quickly. Dumbledore turned his attention on the third Death Eater, who was engaged in a guerrilla-style fight with Harry. Dumbledore decided to let the fight play out, commanding his flamingo to stay close should it need to take a hit for Harry.

Albus watched the boy fight with pride. Here he was–basically a muggle-born wizard for all intents and purposes–fighting on pure instinct. He was untrained in the art of dueling, using the most basic of spells, yet holding his own against a Death Eater. Granted, the two Death Eaters Albus fought were not the most talented, but they had likely finished their schooling and spent time among other Death Eaters exchanging knowledge and practicing. The third Death Eater that was attacking Harry seemed a little more adept than the two Albus took out.

Much like Albus, this Death Eater was using transfiguration to his advantage. Large spikes emerged from the paved road, traveling towards Harry’s location like a bullwhip, rippling in the pavement. Harry dove out from behind the streetlamp from which he fought just before a large spike emerged from the pavement where he just stood, tipping the lamppost at a sharp angle. Harry rolled quickly to his feet and was able to fire a couple of quick curses low at the Death Eater’s feet with his off hand. At the same time, he picked up a chunk of pavement that had broken off from the spike and hurled it at the Death Eater’s face.

The masked man, who had been progressing on Harry’s position, was able to shield the curses at his feet but leaned away from the chunk of pavement too slowly, and it hit his upper cheek. Crying out in pain as blood immediately began pouring from the gash in his cheek, the Death Eater threw a few more curses at Harry, albeit with much less accuracy. Harry leapt behind his neighbor’s series of bushes and crawled in hiding. Soon, the bushes lit up in flames, forcing Harry to back away.

Harry leapt over the burning bush and through the flames, surprising the Death Eater, and launched several simple spells at the Death Eater. The Death Eater blocked most of them with his shield, but one snuck through underneath the shield, and Albus was unable to contain a chuckle as the Death Eater’s legs turned to jelly. He wobbled in place for a moment, glancing at his legs in surprise. After all, who used a jelly-legs hex in a duel with a Death Eater?

This moment of confusion was enough for Harry as he continued with his momentum and rushed the Death Eater with several more curses. The man was soon unconscious with a bleeding nose to go with his cheek, and Harry stood over him, breathing deeply. “Not the prettiest, but it got the job done, right?”

“Right you are,” Albus responded with a smile. Watching Harry gave Albus a very clear direction as to where he wanted to take his training. Harry was raw and untrained, but his instinct was spot on. He knew how to lay down fire when moving from cover to cover, how to use his surroundings both in the offensive and defensive attack, and how to preserve his energy by using weak spells until he could deliver a more powerful blow with more surety. “These were the most basic of Death Eaters, however. After I’m done with you, you will be able to match up against Voldemort’s Inner Circle.”

Harry laughed bitterly. “Well, ideally I can match up with Voldemort himself–not just the Inner Circle.”

Albus smiled at Harry’s lightened attitude about the prophecy and sent a Patronus to alert Kingsley of the capture of three Death Eaters. Confident that the Death Eaters were tied up and no longer a threat, Albus put out the flames. He would let the Ministry take care of other damages to the neighborhood. He motioned for Harry to grab his arm. They disapparated with a crack and soon stood outside of Grimmauld Place. Albus waited patiently as Harry oriented himself after his first apparation and steeled himself for entering his deceased Godfather’s home.

After a few moments, Harry looked up at Albus and nodded. Albus smiled warmly at the boy before leading him up the walkway and through the front door. He heard Harry take a deep breath as he entered the house behind him. Albus led him through the entryway, down the hall, and into the sitting room, where Albus received a severe shock to his system.

Albus pulled out his wand in fear and confusion, prepared to throw up a shield to defend himself and Harry. But Sirius Black, sitting on his couch looking alive and quite comfortable, just grinned up at them.

“What great timing! I’ve only just gotten home.”

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