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Harry Potter and the Ritual of Love's Memory | ||||||
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Category: Post-HBP Characters:All Genres: Action/Adventure, General, Romance Warnings: Death, Mild Language, Mild Sexual Situations, Violence Rating: PG-13 Reviews: 259 Summary: After the horcrux hunt implodes leaving most of those Harry loves dead, he starts a new life with a few fellow survivors far away from wizarding Britain. But the discovery of an ancient ritual that promises to send a single memory back in time sparks hope that maybe things can change. Dark ending to DH followed by a tweaked retelling of GoF through DH. Harry/Ginny. Friday updates. Original Timeline Voldemort's Victory - Chapter 1-5 (Feel free to skip if you don't like major character deaths) Tenochtitlán - Chapter 6-9 New Timeline Harry's 4th Year - Chapter 10-28 Harry's 5th Year - Chapter 29-68 Harry's 6th Year - Chapter 69-Current Hitcount: Story Total: 169427; Chapter Total: 1444 Awards: View Trophy Room Author's Notes: Posting schedule update! For at least the next few months, I'll be moving to posting every two weeks instead of each Friday. That'll give me a bit more breathing room as I'm working on my novel and ensure I don't burn through my queue of rough drafts too quickly. With as much as I've got planned for this arc, that buffer is pretty important to make sure I'm dropping the necessary foreshadowing and build-up for what's coming. That means the next chapter will be posted on May 24. Sorry for the slowdown, but I'd rather do this story well as opposed to do it fast. |
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Chapter 83 Though Daphne had never set foot in Professor Trelawney's Divination class, her prediction about the quidditch match was spot on. The Gryffindor squad had flown laps around the hapless Slytherins, earning a 360-130 victory that never felt all that close. Despite all her challenges as captain, Katie shone when the whistle blew. She, Ginny, and Demelza showcased remarkable chemistry that took their opponents by surprise. Ron performed relatively well, though his confidence took a dip after allowing three early goals. Still, he managed to hold the opposition at bay during Harry's long search for the snitch. Harry thought the Slytherin's new seeker had a fair bit of potential, especially for a third year student. He had probably been flying a broom for years before arriving at Hogwarts, but Harry's in-game experience won out. The younger seeker had been distracted by trying to shadow Harry, who further pulled the boy's attention away from scanning the pitch with a few fake dives. By the time the snitch really appeared, Gryffindor was well ahead on points and Harry had little trouble snagging the tiny golden ball. When the rowdy swath of red and gold-clad Gryffindor students swarmed back into the castle on the way to the common room, Harry hung back with Neville, Seamus, and Dean. With Lee Jordan and the twins gone from Hogwarts, the house was without their unofficial party planners. Though Harry was eager to join the celebration, he felt that passing on a bit of hard-won knowledge about how to upgrade a victory party was warranted. That was especially true because Ron and Ginny were both known for being ravenous after a quidditch match or long training session. The four sixth years excitedly made their way to the kitchens, where Harry tickled the pear on a painting to reveal the entrance. A bevy of house-elfs scurried about in preparation for the next day's meals, taking no notice of the intruders. Harry scanned the room for signs of Dobby but couldn't see anyone wearing multiple articles of mismatched clothing, so he assumed the elf was working elsewhere in the castle. He approached the nearest elf with the other three students trailing behind. "Excuse me," Harry said quietly, though the elf still nearly dropped the pot of stew he was carrying when addressed by the wizard. "We were looking for Dobby. Do you know where we could find him?" The small creature bowed once before letting out a shrill whistle. A sudden CRACK sounded as Dobby popped into being to the other elf's right. "Harry Potter, sir!" cried the elf in delight. "Dobby is so happy to see you again!" The other elf looked almost aghast at his compatriot's familiarity with Harry, hustling away from them before they had a chance to thank him for summoning Dobby. "Hey, Dobby. Glad to see you, too! How is the beginning of the term going for you?" The elf beamed with glee. "I is very pleased to have the students back! There is so much more to clean and cook now. The summer months are more difficult for house-elfs since there is not as much work to be done." "Well, I'm glad that you're happy," replied Harry, still feeling a bit odd about their affinity for chores. "Have you ever met my friends? This is Dean, Seamus, and Neville. We're all in the Gryffindor sixth year dorm together." Dobby quickly bowed to each of them, with his third to Neville dipping down a little lower. "It is a pleasure to meet friends of Harry Potter, sirs. Dobby has heard many good things about Master Neville from Peppy." "And Peppy speaks very highly of you, too," Neville said with a smile, which caused Dobby's cheeks to flush with color. "Wait, are you the house-elf that Harry said knocked Malfoy's dad down the stairs back in second year?" asked Seamus, a hint of mischief glinting in his eyes. "I would have loved to see that!" "Bad master wanted to hurt Harry Potter, sir, because he freed Dobby. Dobby protected Harry Potter." Dean swore under his breath. "I'd almost forgotten about that story. Nicely done, Dobby!" The elf produced a broad, crooked grin. Not that he expected anything less from his dormmates, but Harry thought the introductions were going swimmingly. "Does Harry Potter and his friends need something?" asked Dobby hopefully, his ears perking up. "Should Dobby bring some snacks?" "Actually, we do have something that you might be able to help with," replied Harry. "Some other Gryffindor students used to come visit the kitchens after a big quidditch match. Did the house-elfs make the food for the parties?" "Oh, yes! We is making many sandwiches and snacks for them. Is Harry Potter wanting some to be brought to the common room?" "Yeah, if it's not too much trouble, that'd be great!" said Seamus brightly. "I don't know if you could make any of the chocolate biscuits like last term, but those were really great. I think Ron put away half a dozen of them on his own!" Dobby looked absolutely delighted, especially when Neville and Dean offered their suggestions of favorite snacks from years past. He darted away for a few moments to confer with other house-elfs in the kitchen before returning with a wide grin. "Extra food for a celebration will be ready quickly! Dobby can deliver it before Harry Potter and his friends return to their common room." "That's fantastic!" exclaimed Dean. "Thanks a bunch for helping us out." Dobby bowed deeply. "Dobby is always glad to help! Is anyone needing something else from Dobby?" Neville shifted a bit uncomfortably before speaking. "I'm not sure if this would be something you'd know or not, but I lost my Remembrall again. It's a clear orb that would easily fit in my palm. Would you or the other house-elfs have any idea where it might have gotten to? I figure that you probably know the castle better than anyone." Dobby cocked his head to the side and began to list various places that it could be while assuring Neville that he would enlist the entire house-elf staff to track down the missing item if needed. Instead of listening to the exchange, however, Harry's mind raced back to his fruitless search of the castle for horcruxes over the previous term and during the summer. He didn't dare ask the elf about it in front of Neville, much less Dean and Seamus, but his heart pounded with the possibility of enlisting Dobby in the search. Harry was so lost in his thoughts that he was taken completely by surprise by the CRACK of another house-elf appearing. "Yes, Master Neville? Peppy is here and ready to aid Master…" Her excited voice trailed off at the sight of Neville standing next to Dobby. She stared at the two of them for a long moment, her small cheeks growing red. "Hey, Peppy! Thanks for coming all this way," began Neville brightly. "Dobby offered to search Hogwarts for my Remembrall, but I thought it might help him to have you along, too. You know what it looks like, right?" She nodded slowly, her wide eyes unblinking. "Great! I'm sure the two of you will be able to sort it all out. I really appreciate you both helping me out like this!" The four students shouted out another thanks to the house-elfs who were already hard at work on snacks for the party. Seamus and Dean were already planning to call upon the house-elfs' hospitality for future parties and began talking through their ideas for obtaining butterbeer from Hogsmeade in time for the next celebration. Harry glanced from them to Neville, who looked quite pleased with himself. "Recruiting Peppy to come help Dobby, huh?" asked Harry as he bumped his friend with his shoulder. "Didn't take you for a matchmaker, Nev." He chuckled and bumped Harry in return. "Just figured I should spread it around a bit, now that you and Ron aren't the only blokes in our dorm with a date to Hogsmeade." Harry stopped in his tracks as Neville kept walking nonchalantly and began whistling to himself. "Who?!" shot Harry under his breath, though Seamus and Dean were too far ahead and much too caught up in their conversation to notice. Neville looked back over his shoulder at his gobsmacked friend with a sly smile that looked quite un-Nevilleish. "Hannah Abbott," he replied. "No need to act so surprised!" Harry laughed as he hurried to catch back up with his friend, eager to glean more details. ~RLM~ "Do you think it's about Advanced Defense?" asked Ron, who was leaning back in his chair and holding one of Harry's bishops. Twenty minutes into their second game of the Sunday evening, the two were much more evenly matched than in the first, in which Ron had completely trounced Harry within a quarter-hour. This time around, Harry was almost level on material. He couldn't remember the last time Ron lost a match, which made him all the more eager to finally earn a win against Gryffindor's reigning chessmaster. "I doubt it," hedged Harry, pushing a pawn ahead to endanger a black rook. "He could've said something during class or even afterward if that was the case. And if it's about Advanced Defense, shouldn't he want to talk to you three, Cho, and Blaise, too?" Hermione lay down her Arithmancy textbook and considered the point as Ron slid his rook laterally out of harm's way. She glanced around to make sure no one else was nearby before speaking to them quietly. "Could it be about what you've been working on with Professor Dumbledore, Sirius, and the others?" A grimace spread across Harry's face. In truth, the entire group of horcrux hunters hadn't been in the same room since early in the summer. As far as he knew, Dumbledore and Kingsley still had spoken to each other, though the Auror and Remus had patched things up well enough. Still, the search for pieces of Voldemort's soul had come to a screeching halt that night. Sirius had been cagey about offering ideas for next steps and things felt far too fraught to move forward with the group splintered. Harry hadn't yet followed up with Dobby about searching the castle for a horcrux but he had decided to keep the idea to himself, at least for now. He remembered the feeling of being deflated after their early-summer searches came up empty and refused to bother everyone with false hope. If he did find something worth checking out more thoroughly, he could talk to Sirius about what their next steps should be. "I guess it could be that," conceded Harry with a shrug, pushing his pawn forward toward Ron's back line. "But Sirius didn't mention anything about getting together on the mirror over the weekend, and he's usually pretty good about remembering to tell me if he's coming to the castle. At least, if he's not trying to keep it a surprise…" It took a great deal of restraint on Harry's part, but he didn't betray his confidence when Ron pressed his queen forward to place the white king in check. Harry's lurking knight was ready in waiting, causing Harry to smirk as he removed Ron's queen from the board triumphantly. Ginny looked up from behind her Herbology essay. Harry had shared some of the details about the fractures within the group with her over the summer, but the others weren't aware of how much things had fallen apart. "Maybe something about what you've been doing with Professor Flamel? You said that he was excited about your progress last week." Ginny's idea seemed the most likely option yet, though the mention of his sessions with Professor Flamel quickly dislodged Harry's smile. The two-hour sessions with the ancient professor involved learning much more theoretical magic than he preferred and the wide variety of dusty books they had examined had yielded very little insight so far. Considering how overwhelmed Harry felt with his classes, Defense Club, and Quidditch, he did his best not to think about Professor Flamel's research when outside of the man's office. "Mate!" exclaimed Ron, breaking Harry out of his daze of thoughts. "Sorry, I was just thinking," replied Harry hastily, glancing back at the chessboard. Ron laughed before retorting, "No, I've got you in checkmate!" Sure enough, Ron's tactical sacrifice had allowed his rook an unblocked path into Harry's back row, ending the game. The white pieces began loudly complaining about Harry's lack of mindfulness before being unceremoniously swept into their pouch. "You got overconfident when you saw the chance to take out my queen," said Ron smugly. "Have I taught you nothing in all these years of thrashing you?" The white bishop Ron had been holding tried to answer in the affirmative, but Harry snatched it out of his friend's grasp and stuffed it into the pouch with the rest before it had a chance. "Whatever it's about, you probably ought to head to Professor Dumbledore's office," suggested Hermione, glancing at the clock before returning to her book. "Isn't it almost time for your meeting?" She was right, of course, and Harry swore to himself. He wasn't looking forward to meeting with the headmaster, especially since they hadn't spoken one-on-one since before the events of the summer, except for a few brief minutes after the meeting with Nicolas. He bid the three of them a good night in case the discussion ran long, before exiting the portrait hole and making his way toward Dumbledore's office. ~RLM~ "You think you can turn my memory into a spell?" asked Harry, attempting to follow along with the implications of the discussion. "My boy, try to remember what we have discussed during our research," replied Professor Flamel with an exasperated frown. "The memory is yours and yours alone. There may be no other witch or wizard alive with a memory of this sort. I cannot hope to mold a magic to which I have no connection." Dumbledore looked at the frail man seated in front of his desk and steepled his fingers as a hint of the twinkling in his bright blue eyes shone through. He waited patiently, a faint smile beginning to form under his beard as Professor Flamel continued. "But there is a chance I could guide you in the process of feeling the grooves of the underlying magic… If there is enough power behind it, and I would warrant anything strong enough to send a memory through time would suffice, there is a chance you could find a means to shape it into something usable. Possibly even something extraordinary!" "From what Nicolas had gleaned from your studies of the rogue memory, it seems unlikely that we will unearth the precise means by which it was conveyed to you. Still, he has assured me of his growing confidence that the two of you have a chance of creating a spell." "Always, you speak of 'spell creation' as if the process is as simple as brewing a potion or erecting a house," retorted Professor Flamel while shaking his head in frustration. "It is far more like giving birth: a long, arduous, and painful process which eventually produces exceptional joy when successful or great sorrow when it falls apart." The idea of attempting to painfully "birth" a new spell into the world did not spark enthusiasm in Harry. He wondered how his friends and teammates would take the news if he had to miss Defense Club or quidditch practice due to "labor pains." "My apologies for mischaracterizing your work, Nicolas. Perhaps my excitement for the possibilities of the project has gotten the better of me." "As I was saying, this magic is wholly within you, Mr. Potter," resumed Professor Flamel, his focus trained on Harry. "To continue the metaphor, I can serve as a midwife, of sorts. I think it probable that an experienced hand will improve the likelihood of your success in bringing forth whatever sort of magic dwells within you. "The process is challenging and not for the faint of heart," he added gravely, his small eyes narrowing amongst the man's many wrinkles. "Our progress has been slow thus far, but I should think more time spent should prove advantageous. Your focus tends to wane as our research sessions approach the two-hour mark, so perhaps scheduling a second weekly meeting would prove more helpful than extending our Thursday sessions." Harry heaved a deep sigh, releasing the breath through his nose in a manner reminiscent of his Occlumency training exercises. He raised his eyes to meet Dumbledore's, gathering his thoughts as best he could. "I suppose so," replied Harry quietly after a long moment. The headmaster peered at him questioningly but said nothing. "In that case, it would be worth beginning straight away. Shall we continue in my office, Mr. Potter? I have a few tomes on my bookcase that I can lend to you, giving you a chance to arrive at each session more ready for the task at hand." Harry smiled and nodded, though he felt certain that anyone paying attention could see the prospect of more sessions and added books to read had just ruined his day. Possibly his whole week. "A splendid suggestion, Nicolas, but I had hoped to have a private word before sending him off to do such important work. Would it be a terrible inconvenience to leave him with me for a few more minutes before he rejoins you?" Professor Flamel waved Dumbledore off and hurried out the door, muttering under his breath about different books that might help teach a novice how to begin understanding spell crafting. The large door closed behind him with a loud, wooden thud, leaving Harry alone with the headmaster. Neither said anything for a few long moments. Dumbledore simply sat motionless while Harry bit back the frustration he felt rising in his chest. "Forgive me, Harry, but I believe I have noticed hesitation from you with regard to working with Professor Flamel. Are your sessions with Nicolas not proving helpful?" "No, it's fine," Harry lied, avoiding eye contact. "It's not that important." The headmaster frowned and leaned forward slightly. "I assure you that I am willing to listen, should anything be troubling you." "There's not all that much to say. If you and Professor Flamel think making the memory into some sort of spell might help me beat Voldemort, it makes sense to try." "Yet you feel some hesitation?" "Yeah, I do," answered Harry, frustration and a touch of sadness creeping into his voice. He shook his head and tried to focus on how he wanted to say what he was feeling. "Everybody else is focused on classes, or Defense Club, or quidditch, or spending time with the people they care about, or other mostly normal school stuff. But any time I spend thinking about that is time I'm not spending preparing to fight for my life against Voldemort. "It's not like I don't still do those things; I still go to classes and practice for quidditch and hang out with my friends. There's just always a nagging thought in the back of my head that I'm totally unprepared to face off against him. So I'm throwing myself into Advanced Defense and trying to soak up anything else I can learn that might help me survive, but that means missing out on things I care about." Harry raked his hand down his face as he attempted to stifle the flow of frustrated words that were spilling out of him, but found that he couldn't stop himself. Dumbledore stared at him with concern written on his face but did not interrupt. "All I wanted when I showed up here in first year was to be a normal kid, or at least as normal as a kid at Hogwarts could be. Instead, my whole life revolves around a prophecy that says I have to kill Voldemort or get killed by him." "Which is why I have suggested working with Nicolas. A spell connected to your rogue memory could very well prove to be the difference in a duel." "I know," replied Harry in frustration, his chest tight as he tried to find words for how he felt. "After seeing you two fight last term, I'm well aware that I'm nowhere close to ready to face him. But that's the thing: I don't know if I'll ever get to that level! You've been doing this kind of stuff for years and he's been preparing to take over the world since before I was even born! How am I supposed to get as powerful as either of you? What if I never do? "So I'm stuck feeling guilty for any moment I'm not training to fight, but also like I'm letting my friends down by spending so much time researching this stuff or looking for horcruxes. Then the Prophet has another story about families going missing or getting attacked by inferi or dementors, and that just breeds more shame because those things happen because I'm not strong enough to beat Voldemort." Harry's breathing was ragged as his frustrations poured out. He squinted behind his glasses, unwilling to allow the tears that were forming a chance to roll down his cheeks. He took a deep breath in through his nose in an attempt to calm himself, as he'd been taught in Occlumency, but the air seemed to burn in his chest. "It is an unfair burden to bear to be saddled with such significance. Were it within my power to give you the normalcy you desire, I would have done so. In fact, my decision to leave you with your aunt and uncle was partially borne of my wish to impart some semblance of normalcy to you, despite how poorly that turned out in the end. "It may come as a surprise to you, Harry, but I often feel the same frustrations that you are describing." Dumbledore's voice was quiet and steady, though sadness clung to his words. "Every life that is irrevocably altered by Tom's cruelty and rage pierces me just as it does you. Each is an indictment of my failures and a reminder of how my mistakes affect so many." Harry didn't doubt that the headmaster felt terrible about not being able to stop Voldemort from committing the atrocities that had become commonplace over the past few months. Still, it wasn't Dumbledore who was prophesied to either kill or be killed by Voldemort. "It would certainly be a disappointment to Nicolas, but you are under no obligation to continue researching the rogue memory with him," assured Dumbledore. "Though he is widely heralded as one of the most skilled spell creators since the era of the founders of Hogwarts, you need not work with him if it is too much for you. You could revisit the idea at a later time, even finding a different mentor if the Flamels pass on from this life before you are ready to explore the possibilities. And if you think this idea is without merit-" "But I don't think that!" shot Harry, a little louder than he'd intended. "You know me well enough to see that I'm terrified of facing Voldemort again! And I need any advantage I can get because I can't stand the thought of prolonging this war while people are out there suffering!" Behind his half-moon spectacles, Harry could see Dumbledore struggling to understand. "Which is precisely why I suggested the idea. It took a great deal of work to convince Nicolas and Perenelle to take up these posts, not to mention opening the History of Magic position, but it was well worth the effort to provide this opportunity." Harry's shoulders slumped as the feeling of defeat pressed down on him like a lead weight. The insecurities and fears festering in the back of Harry's mind since first learning about the prophecy flashed into Harry's mind. Anger at the unfairness of being forever linked to a murderous wizard who'd killed his parents and threatened all those he cared about pounded like a drumbeat in his chest. "There's just so much… I don't know how I'm going to juggle everything. Advanced Defense, my other classes, quidditch, Defense Club, horcrux hunting, and now trying to create a new spell…" Without meaning to, Harry heaved a sigh filled with emotion and resignation. "But if this might help end the war sooner, it's not like I have any choice." "There is always a choice, Harry," said Dumbledore softly. "Forgetting that we can choose which paths we tread has been one of my greatest regrets, and I would prefer you avoid the mistakes I have made." "I can't turn down this chance, Professor," replied Harry quietly, pushing himself out of the overstuffed chair with a sigh. "Maybe I'm just a pawn making a break for the back line and this spell is what gets us to a checkmate." Harry didn't bother to watch the headmaster's face change from forlorn to deeply pained as the metaphor sunk in, instead opting to begin determinedly walking toward the door. Dumbledore started to say something in response, but Harry was already excusing himself. "I'll head over to Professor Flamel's office now. I'm sure he'll let you know how things go." A sad trill from Fawkes was the last thing Harry heard before the heavy door closed behind him. |
| Reviews 259 |
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