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
Categories: Post-HBP
Characters: None
Genres: None
Warnings: None
Challenges: None
Series: None
Published: 2006.09.05
Updated: 2006.09.10
Index
Chapter 1: Chapter 1: Remember Me
Chapter 2: Chapter 2 - Dreaming in Color
Chapter 1: Chapter 1: Remember Me
Author's Notes: I credit Tim McGraw's Greatest Hits for inspiration.
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.
Chapter 2: Chapter 2 - Dreaming in Color
Chapter 2 - Dreaming in color:Black mist and the sands of time swirled. Heat and sweat mingled creating an indistinct vortex of thoughts and emotions. In an instant he was there, seeing red. Those around him cowered and slumped to the ground like seedlings wilting from lack of water.
The fear was like music — a hypnotic melody placing him under a spell. Black, white and red… the images were striking clashing together stooped at his feet.
“Master?”
The query tore his mind from the composition; yet, he still saw red.
“Severus.” He hissed, his lips sliding along his gums like oil on water, “ah, Severus. You finished the task I set for young Draco...” his words a whisper that could be heard by everyone in the dank room.
“I am pleased with the result; however, you have earned punishment for your disobedience.”
“Yes, my lord.” Softly spoke the prone figure in black.
“I offer mercy to you today; in gratitude for ridding the world of that insufferable muggle-loving fool! Yes, I am…” He paused, “most pleased, most pleased indeed.”
“Thank you, my lord.” The servant was uncomfortable having knelt so low for so long. Yet, he dared not to move.
“I shall give your punishment to young Draco instead.” A whimper was audible, and some gasps along the periphery of the room.
“You are most generous, my lord.” With that the kneeling figure in black, kissed the hem of his robes and vanished into the shadows of the room. The servant feared what was to come next.
He gazed upon the humbled lot before him, searching their fearful faces, all the while ransacking their minds. Knowing their secrets, he used promises of power to gain most and fear to keep them — they were his. His loyal followers.
“Draco, come forth.” The man-child, Draco, walked toward him on trembling legs and quickly fell to his hands and knees before him, and began to beg for some of the mercy shown to his fellow. He was a slender young man with hair so blond it was blinding white.
“Draco, stop your weeping. You have nothing fear. I am going to teach you a lesson.”
The boy’s eyes looked upwards with care. “M-my lord?”
“Yes, Draco. You and young Harry are going to learn a lesson, a lesson about love.” He spat the final word with distaste. “Yes, my loyal servants, young Harry Potter is with us as well. And Draco, to show what a forgiving master I am… I offer you a chance.”
Draco sat low to the ground now, looking around wildly at his surroundings.
“Bring her.” Moments passed quickly, during which the black and the white stood out like statues on a chess board waiting to be played. And the red — it stained the ground.
The power he held was intoxicating.
Soon a woman with blond hair and elegant features was thrown beside Draco. “Mother? Mother!” The boy moved to her taking in the blood and bruises that covered her. Draco helped his mother to a sitting position by having her lean on him. Fear gripped his soul.
“Narcissa.” The word was lashed out like the strike of a snake.
Narcissa gripped her son’s hand and raised her eyes to the Dark Lord. She would do what she must.
“Narcissa, your husband would like to speak with you.” With that, a tall man clad in black robes and a mask of white moved forward. Even though he wore a black hat, his long blond hair was noticeable.
The boy sat taller, “Father? Father, help us.”
The red haze silhouetted the trio like a family portrait. He would deny them. He would make each of them pay!
The father sneered and looked at the crumpled twosome before speaking, “you are no son of mine. You are no longer a Malfoy! And you…” His gazed turned solely to his wife, who he knew had been abused by his fellows. His tongue was as sharp as his hair was white. “How could you betray the master? How could you embarrass me? Me!”
A scream came from the watching group and a woman raced to the front screeching. “How dare you! How dare you blame her? You failed! You left my sister to rot! She tried to save your miserable son while you…” She stopped her rant at the movement from the Dark Lord, and bowed back among the waiting.
The Dark Lord turned his red eyes upon the servant. “You have made some mistakes my friend. Your son failed in his mission. Your wife has turned against me. She feels I am no longer the most powerful. She asks herself who is Lord Voldemort? Perhaps she thinks that I am weak.” He could hear her deny it, but ignored it for now.
“On this day that I should be celebrating the death of my teacher, I am forced, yet again, to be teaching you my followers. Ironic is it not?”
The servant began, “but my lord, they are no longer my family. I dis…”
“On your knees sir. Crucio!” He held the servant under the torture curse for an extremely long time, and then repeated it. The servant screamed in pain and fell near his family. His body twitched with tremors, his eyes bulged out, and blood poured from his mouth.
“Now Harry Potter, are you watching carefully? The lesson in l-o-v-e is coming.” Those watching looked uncomfortably around the room and cautiously looked to each other. Harry Potter was not in the room.
“Draco, I am going to tell you a story about Harry Potter.” Again the group shifted nervously looking about.
“Do you know how he survived the killing curse? Well, answer boy!”
The blond boy shook his head in the negative.
He moved forward, “His dear,” closer, “sweet,” closer this time, “muggle,” his snake-like face distorted saying the word, “mother, Lily Potter.” The last was a faint whisper, but clearly heard by all.
“She invoked ancient magic. In fact, she died to save him!” There were murmurs from the group of black and white, wide eyes from the family surrounded in red.
“And here is the lesson, will you Draco have the same chance as Harry? What will it be,” He moved quickly to point with one of his long white fingers, “Narcissa?” He could hear Narcissa’s sister shouting so he silenced her to remind her quickly who was master.
“Your life Narcissa, or the life of your son?”
Draco looked at his mother and saw something in her eyes. He was safe. His mother was a pure-blood after all. He would miss her. She had been annoying, but she had tried to help him. She loved him, of that he was certain.
Narcissa looked at the disgust on her husband’s face, and the sneer of the Dark Lord. She no longer heard Bella’s pleas and assumed she had been dealt with. She looked around at those behind the white masks. People she had hosted in her home, laughed with, grown up with. What had they become? How did it come to this?
“Choose now!”
The mother looked tenderly at her son, and slowly raised her hand to caress his fine cheekbone one last time. Her son. Her pride and joy. How she had fought to keep him safe, out of this mess her husband and their vanity had pulled them into.
With a shuddering breath she answered, “I choose to live.”
The air was forcefully knocked from Draco. He couldn’t believe! He looked in disbelief at his mother, but had no air to speak.
“Yes, do you see now Harry?” He gazed at the father, then the mother and finally the son. He crowed, “The almighty power of love? Dumbledore misplaced his faith in it! Is it all you have Harry?”
He spoke the killing curse sharply and green blotted out the other colors.
Harry Potter woke screaming of visions that died in his head.