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ACT3CH9 - Choices
🕑 Added 2023-08-18 14:57:09 +0000 UTCIt’s all a blur. Unreal. He crouches down, looking at the murky, silvery waters, seeing his reflection in them. But it isn’t him that is looking back — its eyes are black, like gaping black holes, an unwavering emptiness that would swallow him if he lets it. The hand comes out, grips him and pulls him into the pool.
Pool? Underwater? Ocean? He cannot tell.
These waters. The Unconscious. The Anima. They are as much a part of him as he is part of them. This he knows. How? He does not know.
But these waters are murky. Strange. Alien. The currents are stronger. Faster than he thought. He needs to focus.
He sees himself talking to the snake at the zoo, the boa constrictor that told him it’s never seen Brazil. Perhaps that was his first friend, before he knew he was magical. The one that had thanked the Freak. It felt good, didn’t it? Seeing Dudley trapped within that cage, giving him a little taste of what it was like to live inside a boot cupboard for ten years…. Too bad he’d get punished for it, but the gratitude from the snake made it more than worth it.
He sees Dudley and his gang attack him, and feels the vicious desire to kill them off. He knows the words. Avada Kedavra. He always does. He remembers that one time when he had corrected a party magician that it wasn’t Abracadabra, but Avada Kedavra. The looks the man gave him…
He smiles. Old memories.
He dives deeper.
He finds himself on the top of his primary school, sees countless ravens flying above him, feels them dive and attack him. Harry fights them off and escapes with cuts and bruises. Ravens— symbol of death, of passage, misfortune and afterlife. He wonders if poor Professor Quirrell got an afterlife. Dumbledore said he was already dead, wasn’t he? Even if he did scream as his skin burnt at his touch and fell apart. He wouldn’t know, but the satisfaction of feeling him burning sings to his soul.
Deeper.
He sees the grim standing before him, larger and far more terrifying than Sirius’s transformation — it comes for him. He runs and runs until he is at the edge of the lake in the forbidden forest, and it is the swarm of dementors coming at him— cold, emptiness, an eternal hunger and death— he has no wand, he can cast no patronus. They come to kiss him, he grabs one by the head and tears its mask open, revealing just dead icy coldness, throwing him into the graveyard. A killing curse comes tearing through the air, hits him, sends him flying and then he falls before a herd of thestrals— symbol of acceptance of death, carnivorous, man-eaters, scavengers. They are smaller than the one he had faced. Faced where? He can’t remember, but there was one. Tall with large wings that wanted him to choose him, or something like that.
He runs through the forest, and jumps into a trap. No, not a trap, a hole. The Chamber of Secrets. He knows what is before him. the basilisk — a symbol of life, death and rebirth. The serpent comes for him, he dives, but the basilisk catches him. He looks into its eyes as it dives for him—
….
Harry woke up. The first thing he noticed was that something was right with his body.
And wasn’t that an odd thought?
No. Not ‘right’ per se, but more along the lines of ‘relieved’. It was almost as if a weight that had been on his body for a long time had been lightened. It had not gone away, but its load had been drastically reduced to the point that he noticed that the weight had been there in the first place.
“Ngh…” He groaned, as he rubbed his eyes and furrowed his temples.
“I see you’ve finally graced us with your consciousness, ‘Arry,” Fleur warmly chided from nearby.
“About time.” He heard Daphne mutter.
Yawning, and against his body’s protests, he pushed himself up and rubbed his eyes in exhaustion. He tried to remember exactly what he was doing before he had gone to sleep but mostly drew a blank. Then he noticed the concerned look in Daphne’s eyes, and the mix of annoyance and worry in Fleur’s, which only amplified his confusion. Then he noticed the familiar white walls all around him, and the faces of Joshua, Tonks and his godfather came into view, his heart palpitating as he wondered exactly what was going on, why they were there.
Then all of a sudden, the haze over his memories dispersed and it clicked.
“Uh, Daphne, you have that look on your face again.”
He didn’t know why that was the first thing that came to mind when he realised exactly what had transpired the night before, but he found it oddly appropriate.
“If that’s the first thing he says after waking up,” said Sirius with a dry laugh. “Then he’s alright.”
Daphne blinked. “What look?”
“The one that says I’m going to be stuck in a position that I really don’t want to be in and you’re not going to do anything about it no matter how much I ask.”
“You are seeing things, Harry. You have just awoken.”
“Then why do I feel I’m going to get cursed by a lot of people all at once?”
“Can’t say I’m not feeling the need,” growled Fleur. “Merde, ‘Arry! What were you thinking?”
Harry blinked. “I —”
“See this is why I’m against letting him get away from my sight whenever he goes on his training montages,” complained Daphne. “First that hellish workout, now this Animagus bullshit. I knew something would go wrong.”
“Then why didn’t you stop it beforehand?” asked Fleur sweetly, which was dangerous on two accounts. First because she was actually conversing with Daphne, which just didn’t happen, and second, because Harry himself had been the receptacle of that saccharine tone too many times to know that it barely ended well.
“I didn’t know what would go wrong!” Daphne growled.
“Pity!”
Daphne glared at her.
“Daphne, that is enough,” said Joshua. He slowly approached Harry from the other side. “How are you feeling, Harry?”
“I —” Harry began again.
“He’s feeling he should be thanking his lucky stars that I haven’t already wrapped him in cotton wool and hid him in some trunk inside one of the Black properties and put it under wards and a Fidelius charm.” Sirius scoffed. “Which, come to think of it, is an excellent idea.”
“Damn straight,” growled Daphne.
“Alright everyone,” said Madam Pomfrey. “Calm yourselves. Everything is fine, and all his vitals are normal.” She paused, and after a moment of consideration, continued. “Well, as normal as they can be for this boy. Now that you’ve all seen he’s awake and not in danger, please leave and let my patient rest.”
“I—” Harry began, and paused, looking around to see if anyone was going to interrupt him again. Finding no resistance, he said. “I’m okay, Madam Pomfrey. I really am.”
He tried to push himself up, only for Daphne to push him back down.
“You let the nurse be the judge of that,” she said, her tone allowing no arguments. Harry hadn’t quite seen her this fussy and bothered before, and wondered exactly what could have transpired to make her act like this. Surely McGonagall or Tonks knew better than to just blabber about what happened to everyone? After all, Dumbledore was there, and knowing the man, he’d have loved to keep the entire thing all hushed up.
He considered the sheer number of people surrounding his bed.
… Or maybe not.
“Uhm, not that I’m not grateful or anything, but why are you all here?” He asked, and looked at Tonks. “What the hell did you tell them?”
“Didn’t require telling,” said Tonks, utterly apathetic to his concerns. “Seriously, Harry. Thousands of witches and wizards all over the world attempt the ritual every year. I’ve never heard of anyone fucking it up to this degree.”
“Just my luck.” Harry said dryly.
“Your luck needs luck,” Tonks deadpanned. “The entire castle was shaking anyway, and your girlfriends practically saw you absorbing that demon into yourself.”
Harry sighed. “It wasn’t a demon, and I’m fine, I swear.”
“Fine, are you?” snapped Daphne. “You should count yourself lucky I’m even letting you breathe without permission, Potter. I’ll keep my eye on you every second from now on.”
“And I will help her,” added Fleur.
Harry blinked.
“I thought you… disliked each other.”
“Non?” asked Fleur, looking at him like he was the one acting oddly.
“Whatever gave you the impression?” asked Daphne airily, as if their mutual dislike of each other was nothing but his imagination. “In fact, she and I made elaborate plans about how best to curb your reckless behaviour and make sure you’re not up to something idiotic again.”
“Oui. Just when I thought you had developed some self-prezervation, you prove me wrong, ‘Arry?” Fleur raged.
“It’s not what you are thinking,” Harry tried to defend his actions, but the sceptical gaze the girls threw his way quelled whatever arguments he might have had. “Okay, it’s exactly what you’re thinking, but I had it under control. That thing didn’t want to hurt, maim or kill me. It was just angry with me for acting out, and I… err, settled things.”
“And that’s supposed to make me feel better?” demanded Daphne.
Harry looked at Joshua for help.
The man laughed. “Take this advice from me, Harry. Women won't let you win even if you are right. You just got to do whatever you’ve gotta do either way.”
“I see,” said Harry sagely. “Thanks for the heads-up.”
“Father,” said Daphne, clenching her teeth. “Stop. Encouraging. The Stupid.”
“Exactement!” Fleur agreed. “‘Arry, do you have any idea what it was like for us? Everyone was getting ready for the ‘Alloweeen feast, and Merde! Suddenly everything began shaking, like an earthquake. We thought ze castle was under attack! The entire Great Hall was shaking, and even the chandelier broke and fell off on the Hufflepuff table. Six students were injured.”
Harry stiffened. His actions had impacted the real world?
Come to think of it, that made very much sense. With the borders at their thinnest, and with him rampaging through the other world, and then Ignotus showing up like that, it was bound to have repercussions in the real world.
“Aurora asked me to get you from your room, so I was looking for you when it started shaking. I couldn’t find you, but then she,” Fleur looked at Daphne, “came rushing in to find you.”
“It was horrible,” admitted Daphne, looking absolutely sick. “I thought the roof would crash. I was so worried and then I remembered you telling me about Halloween, and I feared something had happened to you. But you weren’t in your room, so I knew you must have gone to Professor McGonagall. We went there and we heard those… noises.”
“Démon,” Fleur murmured. “Come from the depths of L’ enfer to eat our souls…”
Harry frowned. He knew what had gotten wrong. So much had happened because of him. It was like the only thing he was capable of was getting others hurt. He met Daphne’s eyes, and for a moment, the maggot-infested walking-talking corpse of his fiance flashed before his eyes.
“You destroyed my life, Harry Potter.”
“It was because of ‘Alloween, wasn’t it?” asked Fleur. “Aurora said something about Death-energy being powerful and resonating with the conjunction.”
Another flash. This one of Fleur, that twisted, morbid transformation. Looking at him with that condescending expression.
“...Too obstinate. ‘E refuses to accept the future he’ll bring. A fool who knows his dreams are unattainable but pursues them anyway. A fraud, who’s neither of Death, nor of La Magique.”
The thoughts were uncomfortable and intrusive. Those images would stay with him for the remainder of his life.
“There is something I don’t understand,” said Sirius, stepping in. “It was just an Animagus ritual. James, Peter… James and I did it back then by ourselves and we turned out fine. What went wrong?”
“I don’t think that is something everyone needs to be here for,” said Minerva McGonagall. Harry met her eyes, and beneath all the worry in her face, he knew what she was alluding to. Whatever had transpired had been subject to his apprenticeship with the Department of Mysteries, and his Family Magic. There was no need to involve others into this mess.
“Minerva —” Sirius began.
“Sirius Black,” Minerva cut him short. “You know as well as I how deeply personal the Animagus ritual is. Asking Mr. Potter to come forth with the details is not exactly proper.” She paused. “You are his adoptive parent. If Mr. Potter wishes, you can stay, but everyone else will have to leave.”
She looked at Fleur, Daphne and Joshua.
“I’ll leave of course,” began Joshua.
“No,” said Daphne. “Clearly something is amiss. I’m not leaving until —” she paused, as Joshua grabbed her wrist, shaking his head as to deter her from pressing on further. Pursing her lips, she accepted and nodded.
“Fine,” she said, standing up. “But I’ll figure it out. This is the end of it.”
McGonagall nodded, and looked at Fleur.
“Leaving,” was all she said, and stood up, but Harry raised a hand.
“No.”
That stopped everybody on their tracks.
Sirius, Daphne, Fleur— practically everyone was looking at him in surprise. Even Harry was surprised at the sternness of his own voice. “Nobody’s leaving.”
“Mr. Potter —” McGonagall began.
“You heard them, professor. The entire school was shaking because of what happened to me inside. Sirius is my godfather. Daphne’s my fiance. I’m dating Fleur. Whatever Daphne knows, Joshua will know anyway. And Tonks… well, she’s in this mess from the start.”
He had assumed everyone would be happy about his decision. Well, everybody except McGonagall. So why were they looking at him like he had grown a second head?
“Errr…. Did I say something wrong?”
“Non,” said Fleur. “Just… zat kind of reaction is unexpected from you.”
“Absolutely,” said Daphne, who was looking at him owlishly. “I expected you to bottle it all up and pretend everything is right.”
“But everything is right.”
“You let me be the judge of that.”
Harry looked at her, bemused. Truth be told, his first instinct was to bottle it all up, exactly like Daphne had elucidated, claiming that they were his private problems and his curse to bear. There was absolutely no need for them to be brought into his freakishness. As much as he felt the need to keep them safe, both from himself and the rest of the world, alienating them might just put them into as much danger as their presence around him. At the same time, he was still traumatised over what Draco had done, first during the Quidditch match and then during the duel. That Harry had himself nearly killed Daphne by accident in the Chamber had also made him deathly afraid.
All of them were good reasons to just go ahead with McGonagall’s suggestion. And if not for his time in the Anima, he probably would have.
Ironically, seeing the corpses of his loved ones had an entirely different impact on him. Ignotus probably wanted to show him how he would fail everyone, but instead, it had backfired on him. Seeing those corpses, hearing them speak those hurtful things, it had only strengthened his belief that what he was seeing was an illusion. That it wasn’t possible for Ignotus to truly comprehend Daphne or Fleur in all their perfection and their imperfection, and instead, they ended up being a reflection of himself. A far cry from the real thing.
Daphne had asked him to drop the betrothal when she had learned that she was going to die. From the very beginning, she had been absolutely open about her own situation with him. Fleur had gone through the humiliating ordeal, and revealed every single dark secret of her heritage to her, and unflinchingly asked him to judge her for it. Him deciding to hide his own demons from them would not just be selfish and cowardly, it would also be an insult to the trust that those two had in him. It would send the message that after all was said and done, he simply did not trust them enough.
Sirius had once told him that Family wasn’t just about having responsibilities, or sacrificing oneself for one’s loved ones, or making others happy. It was about sharing your sorrows, your weaknesses, your fears and nightmares. Daphne and Fleur had trusted him with their fears. It was only fair that he did the same.
And Sirius? He was his godfather. Enough said.
He looked at Fleur. “I cannot denigrate Professor Dumbledore’s actions and then repeat them myself. Can I?”
That took the wind off everyone’s sails. Seeing the dumbstruck expressions on their faces, he let out a small chuckle and laid his head back against the pillow. Daphne bustled over and helped him do it.
She didn’t move from her position after that.
He looked up at the transfiguration professor. “Can you call Professor Dumbledore, please? I don’t want to repeat it all over again.”
Harry looked at Sirius who looked extremely agitated, but was barely keeping his shit together. He knew from experience that unlike others, Sirius would never demand him to speak up, and patiently wait for him to come to him, no matter how anxious that made him. It was one of the many things that made him adore his godfather and hate himself a little bit for putting the man through such things over and over again.
Images of the man’s dead body, lying on the edge of the Black lake came to mind. Harry cast it away with extreme prejudice.
The Headmaster appeared right then in a flash of flames, distracting him from his thoughts. “Harry, my boy, are you feeling better now?”
He tilted his head slightly. “I’ll survive.”
“Mr. Potter was just about to recount what happened to him,” said McGonagall. She had changed into her formal robes, but she looked pale and worried. Even Tonks looked far from the happy-go-lucky person she had been for most of the time last night.
“Miss Delacour, Miss Greengrass, I think it’d be better if—” Dumbledore began.
“They can stay,” said Harry, his voice ringing sharp. “They deserve to know. Secrets get you killed, Professor.”
Dumbledore frowned. Obviously the old Headmaster didn’t agree with his opinion. “I doubt that is wise, but I shall not try to impose here. Harry, what can you tell us about your experiences in the Anima?”
Good question. He thought back to the strange dream he was having, and then back at his experiences in the Anima. He thought about the dozens of possibilities he had seen of his future selves, some good, some powerful, and some so horrendously bleak that it was a surprise that he was still alive in them. He thought about how things had turned out for him in those, and what he had ended up choosing.
And the result of his actions, and how they had impacted everyone else.
Harry pushed himself up, and Sirius helped him, and put a pillow behind his back. “You were right, Tonks. I was supposed to get the thestral as my form.”
Sirius gave Tonks a curious look. Harry wondered if the metamorphmagus had come clean about her role in the entire process, or if McGonagall had conjured up some decent excuse for her to fall behind.
“Supposed to….?” asked Tonks. “You mean you didn’t?”
“I could have. I… should have,” Harry admitted. “The thestral found me, and took very little convincing. It acknowledged me, and asked me to walk away, to leave the Anima. If I would have, things would have been different.”
“But you didn’t,” murmured Minerva.
Harry nodded. “I remembered what you told me, Professor. That I should be true to myself. That the other forms were all different facets of my personality. I could have, and maybe I should have picked death. It would have made things simpler. But I couldn’t. I could hear an owl screech from afar, calling out to me. I heard the sounds of wolves howling, a bear roaring, and something else that I couldn’t figure out what. All my life I’ve had people tell me what I was. The Dursleys hated magic, so they branded me as a freak.”
Daphne hissed at that, but Harry grabbed her hand. She fell silent instantly.
“For Dudley and his gang, I was the boy they could bully. When I discovered I was a wizard, I was branded as the Boy-who-Lived. Parselmouth, Heir of Slytherin, Dark Wizard, Cheater, Liar, Gloryhound, Triwizard Champion, Lord Potter, Warlock, and most recently, Death’s Vessel — I’ve been called one thing after another. Every single time, I’ve been pushed to wear a mantle despite wanting to do it or not. So I guess when the thestral nudged me to walk away, I just… couldn’t. I… I mean, I’m not just the Peverell vessel. I’m Harry Potter, and I wanted to know what was there waiting for me. For Harry.”
He paused, and realised his audience was waiting for him to continue with baited breath.
“So I ignored the thestral, and walked into the forest.”
He paused again.
“That’s when shit went crazy.”
Sirius clasped his shoulder supportively.
“The forest?” asked Joshua.
“Oh right, I didn’t tell you. The Anima took the form of Hogsmeade for me. A rotten Hogsmeade. A rotten Hogwarts. A world without magic.” He took in the astonished reactions from his audience and continued. “I walked past the gates of Hogwarts, into the forbidden forest. That is where I met the thestral.”
“What happened when you walked past it?” asked Sirius.
“Trouble,” said Harry. “I got attacked by an acromantula horde.”
“An entire horde?” gasped Tonks.
Harry curled an eyebrow. He and Ron had been attacked by an entire horde back in his second year. If not for Mr. Weasley’s car, both of them would’ve been in acromantula food.
Hagrid was one of the gentlest people he knew, and one of his best friends in the Wizarding world, but Merlin’s beard, he was going to hold that one grudge against him for that.
“I didn’t know it back then, but the thestral, or Death, if you want to call it that, was messing with my head. It showed me things. Nasty things.” He swallowed, and met Sirius ‘s eyes. “I saw you, dead. Lying on the shores of the Black lake, your soul sucked by dementors.”
Sirius looked ashen, and looked at McGonagall, confused.
“I fought back. Against the spiders. Against the dementors. Against everything that came at me. I didn’t have my wand, so I used Death to fight, to kill them all. It was practically a small war there. If I knew the thestral would be that sore about rejection, I’d have thought things out better.”
Tonks snorted. “That’s the understatement of the century, Harry.”
Harry rolled his eyes. “The next thing I know, I was lying before the great door of Hogwarts. Again, dark as hell and no magic. It was like entering a haunted house. No light, no magic, no nothing. And inside, I found… corpses.”
“Corpses?” asked Fleur.
“Yes,” said Harry grimly. “Yours. Daphne’s. Sirius. The Weasleys. Hermione. Everyone I know and care about. They… uh, blamed me.”
Daphne stiffened.
Tonks cocked her head. “Blamed you?”
“For disappointing them,” he said with a soft smile. “About how I had failed them.” He looked at Daphne. “You did, because I had failed my promise to… you know. Fleur, because I was unable to control myself. All of them were dead, and they blamed me for it. Sirius, the Weasleys, even my mother—”
“Pup,” Sirius began, “you know I’d never—”
He smiled. “I know, Padfoot. And trust me, it took me hearing them that I truly realised how much I meant to you, to everyone. If not for their twisted words, I’d never be able to truly understand what it means to love and be loved in return. And for that… I’m thankful.”
Sirius’s eyes glistened. Daphne clasped his arm tighter. Fleur… just watched.
“I told them they weren’t real. That I wouldn’t give into my fear. That I wanted more than just to be the Peverell vessel.”
“And what did you want, Harry?” asked Dumbledore.
Harry met his eyes and smiled. “Freedom. Freedom to choose my own path. My parents died because they wanted me to live. The reason why I stand against Voldemort, the reason why I took up the mantle of Lord Potter, the reason why I do whatever I do… it is for freedom for me and mine. Freedom from being the Boy-Who-Lived. Freedom from Voldemort’s shadow looming over me. Freedom from the allure that keeps Fleur from living a normal life. Freedom from the curse that has haunted Daphne’s every waking moment. Freedom for my godfather to live the life that was taken from him. That’s what I want. Over death. Over magic. Over… everything.”
The entire room had gone silent.
Harry chuckled. “Guess Death didn’t like it. I escaped out of the Anima in my form, but Death came after me. That’s what caused all this mess.”
“Mess, he calls it,” said Tonks, rolling her eyes.
“Mess,” Harry repeated with a smile. “There was no escaping it, Tonks. In that one moment, I was — I was freedom. Magic. The purest part of me. It pushed me out of the Anima. But I’m also the Peverell vessel.”
“So you have… what, two forms now?” asked Daphne.
Harry shook his head. “Nope. Just one. A great horned owl, to be exact. But I took in the essence of the thestral in me, as well, and… unless, I’m wrong, it sort of mutated my form.”
“A magical owl?” asked Fleur, tilting her head.
“Sorta….” He gave her a half-shrug. “I really can’t say how it changed my owl form, but guess that’s something to look forward to in future animagus sessions.”
Tonks snorted. “A magical animagus form but not your family’s totem. Guess you can now be classified as Warlock for yet another ability, Harry,” said Tonks. “How does that make you feel?”
“Super,” Harry deadpanned. “Like I’ve won Witch Weekly’s Most Charming smile award.”
Both Daphne and Fleur snorted at that.
“Yes, that’s hilarious,” said Sirius, looking absolutely despondent and angry. “What I want to know is why did you even perform this ritual? And why the hell were you even allowed? Unless Animagus rituals have been brought down from seventh-year to OWL-level classes when I wasn’t looking?”
“Really Mr. Black,” scoffed McGonagall. “Pot kettle much?”
“No, it’s not,” said Sirius. “Me, James and Peter were absolute idiots for trying something that stupid. We were crazy lucky, but a hundred different things could’ve gone wrong.”
Harry winced at the scowl forming on McGonagall’s face. He knew exactly how much she had protested against him conducting the ritual so soon. But his apprenticeship to the Department of Mysteries was a secret, one that wasn’t hers to divulge.”
“I believe I can answer that question,” said Dumbledore, much to his surprise. The Headmaster waved his wand around, and Harry felt a ward fall into place, before the man conjured himself a plush chair and sat down upon it. “During Harry’s birthday party, he was approached by Saul Croaker, Voice of the Unspeakables. He came in as Madam Bones’s personal guest.”
“I remember that,” said Sirius stiffly, giving Harry odd looks.
“You might not know this, Sirius, but Harry’s name has been listed as a Person-Of-Interest in the Department of Mysteries, owing to his status as the one person to survive the killing curse. Had things run its course naturally, he would have been sent an official apprenticeship offer from the Department, after he had sat through his OWLs. Harry’s acquisition of the Peverell Magic, his ascension to Lord Potter and being declared a magical adult as a result of his participation in the Triwizard Tournament, accelerated that course of action. For that reason, Croaker offered him an apprenticeship.”
Sirius, and everyone else in the room not privy to these facts were giving him gobsmacked looks.
“You’re an Unspeakable?” squeaked Daphne.
“In the Département des mystères?” Fleur echoed.
“Just an intern,” Harry mumbled, “and it’s not even official yet.”
“Tori’s going to go bananas,” snorted Daphne. “She wants to be an Unspeakable too. She will stick to your arse every waking moment when she finds out.”
“Yes, well, that is very nice,” snapped Sirius. “But why wasn’t I told about this?”
“I — erm—” began Harry.
Dumbledore came to his rescue again. “From what I’ve been told, he had no choice. It had to be his choice, and within a very particular conjunction.”
“I was under oath, Sirius,” said Harry. “I’m sorry—”
“Sorry? SORRY?” Sirius demanded. “You’re not supposed to be the one saying sorry! What I can’t understand is why the DOM can poke into my godson’s personal life and force him to sign up without my knowledge? And why the hell did Amelia —”
“Sirius!” Harry stressed. “No one forced me. They gave me the offer. I took it.”
“I understand what you’re going through, Sirius,” acquiesced Dumbledore. “But as a person of Interest, he has no choice. And you know the stringent policies of the DOM. Not even the Wizengamot can interfere in their decisions without a unanimous vote. At least this way —”
“Fuck the Wizengamot and fuck the Department, Harry is my godson. And I’ll not have some crackpot whitecoat performing experiments on him inside that shady place. If needed, I’ll leave this wretched country and move to fucking Australia with him if that’s what’s needed. And I can’t believe Amelia could’ve… Guess this is what I get for trusting people, don’t I?”
Harry winced. He should have known that Sirius was going to blow a gasket when he finally learnt about it. He only hoped it wouldn’t hamper his relationship with Madam Bones.
“Padfoot?”
“What?”
“You realise I’m a Vessel, right? A Vessel of a family that went extinct one and a half millennia ago? Hogwarts cannot teach me how to control this power. Unless you think I’m better off with trial and error, I’ll need help honing this power. The Department of Mysteries can help me with that.”
“Damn it, Harry!” Sirius snapped. “Stop making sense!”
Harry smiled. “They are even funding a separate workshop at Hogwarts. Me, Professors Babbling, Vector and Sinistra, and Fleur — we’ve been working together to create spells out of this power. An entirely new brand of thaumaturgy that uses Death instead of magic.”
“So that Mors spell,” Daphne began.
“Mors Exesa,” Fleur answered. “It’s the first of an entire system of spells we’ve been working on. Mors Exesa isn’t complete yet, but ‘Arry can safely use it.”
“Spells…” muttered Joshua, looking utterly bewildered. “Powered by Death.”
“Yes,” said Harry. “It’s still a work in progress.”
“You should be excited about this, Regent Greengrass,” said Dumbledore, smiling. “From what I hear, young Harry here twisted the arms of the other professors to work on finding a cure for your daughter’s blood curse.”
“He what?” breathed Joshua.
Daphne just stared at him.
Harry felt a little self-conscious. No matter what anyone said, he just wasn’t comfortable when others looked at him like he had done something great. “It’s just an idea. I — we’re trying to use Death energy to act as a counter to the magic empowering the blood curse.”
“Just an idea he says,” Fleur growled. “‘E has been working tirelessly on it.”
“You…” Daphne breathed, her eyes glistening. “You…”
“I promised you, didn’t I?” asked Harry softly. “I always keep my promises. Or at least, I try to.”
“I know,” she whispered with a smile. “You’re such a stupid Gryffindor.”
“Be as that may, I still have my piece to say, Harry,” grumbled Sirius.
Harry grinned. “So long as you’re happy, Padfoot.”
“I’m not happy. I mean I understand it, but damn it! It’s just one thing after another. It’s like no matter what I do, I just cannot stop you from being pulled away by forces beyond your control and that tells me what a failure I’ve been as your godfather. Maybe if Lily and James had chosen someone else—”
“That’s bollocks,” said Harry, surprising Sirius with the force in his tone. “You’re the best godfather I could’ve ever gotten. You broke out of Azkaban to protect me. You risked dementors and death just to protect me from Pettigrew. Even with the Aurors after you, you were there with me when everyone else was calling me a liar last year. You gave me a home, a family, and a name to call my own. Everything that I am, everything that I now know about being a Potter, about my parents, it’s all because of you. You’re my hero, Padfoot, and nothing will ever change that.”
“Oh just stop with the mushy stuff already,” Daphne complained. That her own eyes were glistening with tears made it just that much ironic.
“Don’t think you can sweet-talk your way out of this, godson,” scoffed Sirius, though the heat in his voice was missing. “And regardless of this DOM bullshit, will someone explain to me why Harry was forced through the ritual now instead of later?”
“That’s what I asked them too,” McGonagall added her two knuts. “But what the DOM wants, the DOM gets.”
“Sirius,” Harry tried again. “Just let it be. I’m fine.”
“You’re not fine,” growled his godfather, looking not at all happy. “This is dangerous, Harry.”
“It's a tough delivery, but I know I can manage it.”
“Manage it?” asked Sirius, the first stirrings of annoyance in his voice. “Manage being connected with a magical creature? One that’s corrupted by the essence of a thestral and is fucked up in ways that the nannies up there in the Department have no clue about?”
“Padfoot,” Harry began. “It’s just a form—”
“It most certainly is not,” snapped his godfather. “Haven’t you taught him about the dangers, Minerva? The most dangerous hurdle that every animagus ever has had to face post choosing his form?”
Harry opened his mouth, but then closed it.
“Synchronisation,” murmured the Transfiguration professor. “The deeper your connection with your form goes, the greater you start adding the animals’ instincts to your own. And if you cannot control it, it changes your very nature as a person.”
“Like Peter Pettigrew,” said Sirius. “He became an animagus, but he was overwhelmed by the instincts of his form. He couldn’t help but think like a rat. Jump ship at the first sign of trouble. What do you think would happen if you shared your mind with a creature whose very nature is twisted by Death?”
Harry scowled. That his godfather would think he was weak like that pathetic rat was insulting. “I’m not like Peter Pettigrew, Sirius.”
“Neither was he,” Sirius whispered. “Not at first.”
A cold, little feeling wobbled through Harry’s guts.
It was the tragedy of the human condition. No one wanted to be corrupted by power when they set out to get it. They had good, even noble reasons for doing whatever it is they did. They didn’t want to misuse it, abuse it, or become vicious monsters. Good people, decent people, set out to take the high road, to pick up power without letting it change them or push them away from their ideals.
But it kept happening anyway.
History is full of it. As a rule, people aren’t good at handling power. And the second you start to think you’re better at controlling your power than anyone else, you’ve already taken the first step.
Like Albus Dumbledore.
Or Tom Riddle.
Or maybe… just maybe, Harry himself.
“This is the reality, Sirius,” Harry said quietly. “I’m Death’s Vessel. I’ve known it all along, ever since the summer. I knew that I am at a crossroads, and would always be, unless I choose between Magic and Death. I tried choosing a third path, and then this happened. There is no way out.”
“And how do you know that?” asked Sirius. “All of this… Death’s Avatar bullshit. Who told you?”
“Would you believe it if I told you that I’ve been communing with a Peverell ancestor of mine in my dreams since this summer?”
“.... No?”
“Well, I’ve been communing with a Peverell ancestor of mine in my dreams since this summer.”
Comments
The BlackStaff and NightMarE
#Edited
Wesbrook
If this fit doesn’t change the tune of forcing Harry to share something like this I am unsubscribing. The mere fact that you have Daphne and Fleur trying to tame him is disgusting. I also agree with the two people above me.
