Darkness.
Darkness enveloped everything. No sky, no ground,a complete lack of colour, of sound, of feeling…
A complete and total lack of everything that made existence what it was.
Yet, the isolation within the void felt comforting to Harry Potter. His emerald green eyes slowly moved around in their sockets, trying to make out something, anything other than himself in this dark void. Despite that, he felt relaxed, rested and possibly for the first time in his entire life, free.
A gut feeling told him that he wasn't awake yet. All of this was inside his own head.
"This isn't my mind. It isn't my mindscape," he thought, yet the thought was broadcast, almost visible, across the all-consuming void, breaking the silence.
"It isn't."
Slowly, Harry turned his head towards the source of the voice, finding nothing. Yet his eyes widened soon after, as he noticed something odd within the fundament of his surroundings for the first time.
The void was unravelling. As if the very threads that held it together were getting pulled apart.
"Is this really a mind?"
Suddenly, the head of a boy around his age, with an unruly mop of black hair, a mirror of his own, and red, glowing eyes appeared in front of him, a tired smile adorning his familiar features.
Harry felt his heart freezing as he took in the rest of the boy. The head, while intact, was connected to half a torso, cut diagonally from the left shoulder down. Connected to it was only the right arm.
It didn't look gory, not in the slightest. Instead of blood and viscera, a black haze poured slowly from the cavities and merged with the void, becoming one with it. Harry did not feel revulsion from the sight. Instead, an instinctual knowledge of watching something end before his eyes gave him a morbid feeling.
"No, not exactly. But it doesn't matter anymore. It won't exist for much longer."
X
As the light of the spell faded, Voldemort fell unceremoniously to the floor, his serpentine face hitting the floor of the Atrium with a dull thud. From his prone body, tendrils of black magic swirled around him, flitting through the air in random-seeming patterns.
The pain he felt from the spell that Potter had thrown at him was excruciating, enough that he could not help but scream like a mere child. It was harrowing, chipping away at what felt like his very being. As he slowly forced his red eyes open through the agony, he felt the hate of his foe permeating him, infecting and fighting against him, against his very existence yet he felt too exhausted to rage against it. He felt like he was going to suddenly stop and fade into non-existence.
Worst of all, he felt something he had not since his boyhood. Since the days he was in the orphanage, or at Hogwarts under the pernicious blue eyes of his Transfiguration teacher. Something he had fought his whole life to overcome and erase from his being, causing him to go further than any other on the road to immortality. Voldemort felt fear.
The boy must die. The one with the power to vanquish the Dark Lord, indeed. He needed to end the boy post haste, lest he become too strong; strong enough for them to fight on an even footing. By now, he had rectified the error in judgement he had made at Little Hangleton; now he acknowledged the fact that Harry Potter was powerful, even more so than he himself had been at fifteen years of age. The boy simply lacked the skill and experience he had accrued in the years since he had left Hogwarts.
His mind went to his Horcruxes. Although he had made the failsafes to ensure his survival, if the boy grew strong enough, all would be for naught. With every resurrection and return, with every second of incorporeal agony desperately trying to cling to the world and retake physical form; Potter would be there to end him..
He did not wish to return to his former existence as a wraith, let alone be stuck as one for as long as Potter lived. Every moment of those long thirteen years had been agonising, and humiliating in his weakness. Forced to live short lives in serpents, or feel as his form was constantly torn at by the world itself seeking to reunite his soul in the void. No, there was only one option and he would be the one to execute it. It was his job to finish, to deny the boy the chance to grow.
He tried to push himself off of the ground with shaking hands. His hate reignited at his own state, the state of weakness that the Boy-Who-Lived had brought him to once again. As he managed to stand on two feet, he summoned his yew wand to his hand with an open palm.
He barely paid attention to the fact that whatever the boy had cast had caused a severe backlash throughout the remnants of the Atrium. A large, yet invisible circle was visible around them. Every single piece of debris, even the dust shaken loose during the fighting, had been pushed away from the pair. He did not need to see them to know that the others, Dumbledore's pawns, were knocked out too; as he and the boy had both been.
He took a semblance of solace from the fact that no one could see him in this pathetic, limping state. Slowly, he raised his wand and prepared to finish what he had begun all those years ago.
A sound of fire whooshing was heard to his sides, situated a distance away as the fireplaces roared to life with green flames as the Floo network rekindled itself. With that he realised that the wards he had erected around the Ministry to prevent entry, exit and communication had fallen; possibly when he himself fell. He needed to hurry; he had won. Nothing would stand in his way this time.
A cacophony of cracks and whooshes was heard as Aurors and Ministry workers realised that the wards had fallen, but it was over.
"Avada Kedavra!"
The Dark Lord yelled the Killing Curse with all of the remaining strength that he could muster, and the poisonous green bolt of light erupted from the tip of the pale yew wand. A manic grin formed upon his face as he saw the spell racing towards the fallen Harry Potter.
Suddenly, a flash of brilliant gold and red materialised in front of the boy, as a majestic phoenix with dark red plumage erupted into existence from the flames and soared in front of the Killing Curse. The blur of gold caught the spell upon the edge of his curved, sable beak, glimmering in the light of the emerald spell.. For a moment the bird seemed to struggle with the force before it let out a mighty shriek that forced everyone present to the spectacle to fall to their knees as they witnessed the titanic struggle. With a defiant push, the phoenix redirected the spell towards the ceiling of the Atrium before bursting into blinding flames from the effort, annointing the young Potter's unconscious form with its ashes.
Voldemort's incredulous stare turned murderous as he roared in rage. He attempted to cast the curse again, before he suddenly felt a constricting feeling in his chest. As he attempted to force the magic through his wand, another flash of fire appeared between him and the boy.
Stormy, blue eyes belonging to the Bane of Gellert Grindelwald locked themselves upon his own red ones with a deep-seated rage lurking behind them. The magical titan imperceptibly flicked his wand towards the gathering crowd by the cacophony of lit fireplaces before aiming it once more at Voldemort.
"Dumbledore!" Voldemort spat in defiance towards the man.
He did not get a response verbally. In place of an answer, a golden ray of light, a spell even he didn't know raced towards him. He knew at that point that he had lost.
A sharp crack of apparition was heard and the unknown spell soared aimlessly, crashing into the now ruined walls, leaving no visible mark on the stone, already burnt and cracked from spellfire.
Dumbledore didn't bother to check upon the progress of his spell; he knew from a single glance that Tom would flee. Whatever happened earlier, it had damaged him greatly. He turned his attention exclusively to the fallen boy behind him. As he did so, Fawkes flew towards the members of the Order in order to transport them directly to St. Mungo's where they could be tended.
"My boy," Dumbledore whispered as he waved his wand across the unconscious student, his expression turning darker with each reading. Exhaustion, broken bones everywhere, and a myriad of lesser injuries including that of an odd burn upon his right palm. The most worrying reading of all was the unbearable amount of vile and poisonous magic that poured incessantly from his bleeding scar, alongside a black, tar like liquid. The very feel of it was repulsive to him.
A loud crash was heard from his side, by what was supposed to be the doorway towards the staircase that led to the lower levels, causing Dumbledore to turn to face it, raising his wand against it as he did so.
A mixture of relief and confusion came over him as a group of students poured out from the narrow stairwell and he lowered his wand, recognising them as amongst his charge's friends. As he returned to the unconscious teen, his thoughts were soon interrupted by a cry of grief calling Harry's name from the students, followed by the rushing footsteps belonging to a certain Slytherin.
"Don't come closer, Miss Greengrass," Dumbledore spoke to her in a quiet tone and the girl froze in her tracks. Looking up to her, he saw tears leaking slowly from her widened eyes as she observed the state her friend was in. Behind her, the others in the group wore similarly shocked expressions.
Daphne wanted to rush in, she wanted to inspect his wounds personally, wanted to make sure that he would be okay. That she wouldn't lose him before whatever was going on between them had been allowed to grow and flourish. Since that was impossible - and frankly, unnecessary in front of the greatest wizard in Europe - she wanted to know from Dumbledore, she wanted to speak her mind to the wizened Headmaster, and ask about Harry's situation.
Yet she couldn't. The stress of the battle thus far, and the situations that brought them here - the same situations that had brought Harry to his apparent deathbed - caught up with her and she froze just like in every other situation where she had found herself out of her depth; unable to respond, to ask the questions burning through her mind, as well as the minds of her compatriots.
"Is… Is he okay?" Hermione finally asked timidly, asking the question that no one else had dared utter.
"Yes. Harry will be perfectly healthy," the elderly wizard assured them, to the group's collective relief as Fawkes appeared on his shoulder in a burst of flame, letting him know that the evacuation had been completed.
"Why didn't he let us fight with him? He promised!" Daphne asked, her voice cracking near the end.
"I don't know what happened here, Miss Greengrass, but I am certain he had his reasons. Reasons he will undoubtedly share with you when he awakes. For now, however, you should all return to Hogwarts," Dumbledore spoke.
With a flick of his wand his phoenix Patronus was conjured and he whispered something to it before it flew into the air and through the ceiling.
A tremor passed through his body, not going unnoticed by the students.
"Professor?" Neville questioned tentatively. "Is everything okay?"
A bead of sweat fell from his wrinkled forehead. Instead of answering, he turned his gaze towards the gathered crowd of workers and oddly enough, reporters. Right in front of everyone was Cornelius Fudge, his face frozen in a perpetual state of horror.
Every single wizard and witch within that area looked as if they were frozen in time. When it came to Dumbledore, that was most likely the case. The students' eyes widened at the implication.
"There is magic unknown to many in this world. Yet this is not the time to observe it," the Headmaster spoke as another tremor shook his fragile form.
"For now, I shall bid you farewell. Please, take hold of each other."
The students followed suit, holding each other's hands - in Daphne's case, she was leaning on Hermione's shoulder, tears still leaking from her eyes as she found support from Harry's best friend - as Fawkes flew towards them and they disappeared in a flash of flames.
Dumbledore briefly turned towards the group of workers and cast a wide area Confundus Charm, providing the illusion of them watching a skirmish between the two titans of magical Britain, instead of missing whole minutes of their memories, before he cancelled the Time-Stasis Curse. His shoulders visibly sagged from the relief he felt the moment he relinquished the strain upon him.
Ignoring the shouts of everyone, he moved to carry Harry. Almost at the same time, a tiny, featherless head of a phoenix emerged from the heap of ashes upon his torso, watching Dumbledore with what felt like irritation.
"Nicodemus," the Headmaster whispered in awe as he lifted the hatchling, conjuring a small pillow on which he put it along with its ashes before he lifted the boy. "You saved him, I'm certain."
An indignant, yet weak screech in affirmation was his answer. As if obvious to all but the purple-clad warlock. Having taken care of the phoenix, he finally gently put his hands under the unconscious boy, lifting him up as his familiar returned to his shoulder.
"Dumbledore! Albus!" came an irritating voice, as Fudge rushed to him, tripping over his pinstriped robes in the process. "I'm sorry, Albus! I should have believed-"
"Your apologies mean nothing, Cornelius," Albus responded in a neutral, almost cold tone. His eyes dark and stormy. "You saw Voldemort walking and wielding a wand after fourteen years of presumed death. Yet I had already warned you. Harry had warned you. Yet your paranoia caused you to spiral so far, that you managed to blind yourself in your own hubris. Your delusions removed me from every position I could have used to help. You denied my pleas to bolster the ranks of the Aurors, thinking me delusional and senile. Look at you now."
His head rotated enough to take in the destruction of Magical Britain's seat of power, his movement drawing the crowd and the bumbling Minister's attention to the devastation.
"Your Ministry, Cornelius. A place where a Ministry official abducted a student, whilst Death Eaters, alongside their long dead leader, run rampant and unopposed because of her Minister's actions. The heart of Magical Britain, and it had no employees working a night-shift, not a single one to make sure the nation's secrets were secure or that her citizens were safe as they slept!" The man's eyes seemed to blaze with his final words, causing Fudge to take a step backwards.
Fudge spluttered. "N- Now, Al-"
"No, Cornelius. I have a student severely wounded and his condition is far more important than your attempts to save a sinking ship."
With those parting words, a bright flash of fire consumed Headmaster and student both, leaving the flustered and humiliated Minister behind; his workers watching in shock behind him as the nation's reporters waited with baited breath.
X
"You're me, yet you're not," Harry stated as he observed the near-identical boy.
"You could say I grew up with you. I'm around… a year younger, I'd say."
Harry's face twisted into a frown.
"You're him. Or a part of him. Voldemort."
"I… was."
"You're a Horcrux. I am a Horcrux."
"I won't even be that for much longer."
"How?"
The soul piece shot him an amused smile. "That question has too many answers to even know where to begin, let alone choose one to answer you with in the limited time I have left."
"How will I stop being a Horcrux?"
The Horcrux's smile widened. "You basically destroyed me. That spell we used…"
"The Judgement Curse," Harry supplied rather unhelpfully.
"How could you tell?" his counterpart deadpanned. "You know it doesn't miss, Harry. It will hit the target, no matter how much he tries to evade it."
Silence stretched between them as the implications hit Harry and his face twisted into a grimace.
"It recognised you. You're a part of his soul. The spell branched from him because you were nearby and it targeted you equally," Harry said and his tone sounded resigned, defeated. Sad, even.
The feelings confused him, nor was he the only one..
"In a short amount of time, I'll be your burden no longer. You'll be free of the darkness that made me and you will grow into yourself without a leech," the Horcrux spoke incredulously. "Yet you seem sad? Why?"
Harry swallowed heavily and locked eyes with what remained of his counterpart. By now, the fingers and half of his remaining palm had turned to black smoke and drifted into the void.
"I… I don't know."
X
Madam Pomfrey ran frantically around the Hospital Wing of Hogwarts in what looked like desperation. Cupboard doors were flung wide, drawers were pulled open and yet, whatever she was looking for could not be found.
"I don't get it," she mumbled. Behind her, a group of four Senior Healers from St. Mungo's were performing multiple spells on the still form of a raven haired student.
"We have successfully treated the punctured lung," a woman, a former apprentice of Pomfrey by the name of Maria Merrywood, announced. "He is officially out of the woods, Poppy."
A sigh of relief came from Pomfrey's lips unbidden as she turned towards the bed. Several tubes were connected to the boy's arteries, all of them pumping potions of different colours into his system.
"If he is recovered then why is his system fighting the potions, and why is that, "she said pointing at the scar upon his forehead, "still bleeding. I honestly don't understand it; how a scar present for fifteen years can suddenly reopen and refuse to close."
"It actively fights us when we try to close it. Gemma tried to cast a Blood-Clotting Hex on it and the scar reacted with interest." Healer Owens, a small and mousy medi-wizard commented with a frown.
"Don't remind me," Gemma Jones mumbled as she rubbed the still sore shoulder where a tendril of Harry's magic had hit her after her attempt.
"His magic is a mess," Poppy whispered as another diagnostic charm showed the exact same result as the last who-knows-how-many times. Harry's magic fluctuated wildly, in a rhythmic but unpredictable manner.
The fact that an unknown, second magical signature was mixed with Harry's was as concerning as the erratic fluctuations, if not more.
"The best I can do is place a self-draining towel over his scar since it's not reactive to enchantments or physical touch," Maria said, proceeding to do just that to somewhat stem the red tide. It wasn't rejected and thankfully, it started draining and vanishing the blood.
"I think I should attempt to Legilimise him," the fourth of their group, Jacob, said.
"You should absolutely not try to enter his mind, Hawthorn," a silky voice drawled from the entrance to the infirmary as the Headmaster entered the room alongside his snarky potions professor. "You'd probably end up as a new vegetable in Professor Sprout's greenhouses in a best case scenario."
"I don't see how that could happen, Snape," Jacob responded with a healthy amount of irritation colouring his voice.
"You and I are equally skilled in the mind arts, as Master Hathaway said when we finished our internship," Severus said placatingly. "That said, if I'm certain about the outcome of your attempt, surely it means that I know something you don't."
"And that is the reason we're here," Dumbledore said in a grave tone. "You cannot help Harry beyond what you've already done for him. The rest of it is on his own."
"Are you certain, Headmaster?" Maria asked wearily.
"I am. Poppy, I trust you will be able to monitor his condition?"
"Of course. And I hope you know, Albus, that I will call for help if something happens. This is going beyond my area of expertise," Pomfrey responded.
"I'm well aware. For now, we cannot help him, lest we give up our minds and our bodies to his volatile magic," he said as he walked closer towards the bed. "I have obtained a memory of his fight with Lord Voldemort and I know that what happened is beyond fixing. He will either come back to us stronger, or we will lose him."
Dumbledore felt and looked more tired than ever before. His eyes were lacking their usual twinkle and the only emotion discernible was regret.
He knew Harry was a Horcrux. When he brought back the destroyed Diary after his encounter within the Chamber, he had provided the knowledge Dumbledore had needed to prove that Voldemort was still roaming the earth, as well as the means he had employed to do so. Then, during his third year, the unhealthy obsession the Dementors had with him provided the seeds for his suspicions about the true nature of the scar. The visions Harry had, as well as the connection he seemed to have with Voldemort unveiled the ugly truth right before his eyes and the identity of the darkness within the scar was revealed.
He vowed then that he would rid Harry of the leech that had stunted his growth and his potential. He spent his days researching and pulling favours from trusted connections around the world, yet the only plausible scenario was Harry dying to Voldemort willingly; a situation he would not allow. Rituals of extraction were too risky, as was letting a Dementor apply the Kiss and hoping for the best.
He was a masterful politician and a chess master in the game of life. He had moved oceans and mountains to achieve his goals and his dreams, he made sacrifices all in the name of the Greater Good. Raising Harry as a sacrificial lamb would not be one of those sacrifices. He had failed the child in every way possible since the day James and Lily Potter had died; he would sooner die before he denied him a life he very much deserved.
Harry Potter was the future of this world and Albus Dumbledore would not endanger that future for foolish martyrdom.
Alas, he had failed him yet again. The boy was on a hospital bed in a magical coma, looking pale, wounded and frail. Even in a coma, the boy looked like he was carrying the weight of the entire world upon his shoulders. Even his unconventional rest looked tiring. And now he was probably fighting the wounded Horcrux within his own head, and he could do nothing to help.
A lone tear escaped from Dumbledore's pale blue eyes. He did not move to wipe it.
X
A lone tear came unbidden from his eye as he took in the nearly destroyed visage of his counterpart. He did not move to wipe it, yet he didn't know why it ran in the first place.
"Any other 'how's' you wish for me to answer?" The red-eyed Harry asked.
"Not exactly," Harry responded as his eyes moved to the background which kept unravelling around them. "What do you mean you were Voldemort's Horcrux?"
"I meant exactly that. Well, technically, I will always be a part of Tom's soul but I grew to be… more."
Harry did not answer verbally. His eyebrow simply rose in response and the Horcrux huffed.
"I always forget you are particularly dim-witted. Let me elaborate," he said as he started pacing. Well, pacing was a generous term for an entity made of a head, half a torso and the remains of a right arm; he simply rotated and started gliding around. "I know everything you have learnt for yourself, with the addition of what I am and what created my existence. The Horcrux Ritual, unfinished and accidentally invoked.
"A Horcrux is a piece of a soul, as you already know. It has a set identity, thoughts and memories. The Diary was proof of that fact. Since I was… unfinished, as it were, I was created without a solid identity and memories. I only have the instinctual knowledge of what I am, much like you always knew, deep inside, that you were more than your relatives, more than your classmates, more than your neighbours. It is that very same instinct that tells me I shouldn't exist and that I'm naught but a leech upon your existence. I am the surplus in your body, the unwanted baggage your soul carries, the drain on your magic.
"That fateful night in October, I was nothing more than a shard of even a proper Horcrux; a tiny, foreign part of a soul stuck within a living, breathing babe that had drawn breath little more than a year."
"Since you say you were almost nothing… How are you here? You seem awfully intelligent and functioning to me," Harry said as he tried to ignore the fact that the remaining hand of the Horcrux had finally disappeared, the smoke pouring now from just above the wrist.
The Horcrux gave him a wide smile. "You're asking the right questions. You've grown to be a sharp kid, it seems Daphne is a great influence on you."
Harry's eyes widened and his gaze turned incredulous.
"Oh don't look at me like that. I've seen everything in your life. I'm the unwanted guest in this house, don't forget that," Harry's counterpart said with a laugh. "Anyway, the simple answer to that question."
Mirth vanished from his red eyes.
"A Horcrux is directly influenced by its environment and its container. It is the reason why an entity like me will be found anchored to an object instead of a living being. A living Horcrux is dangerous because the most prominent feature of the container is growth. I was nothing but a shard of a whole, with no memories, no clear identity; only the knowledge of what I was and a scant few traits that came from my creator. I am an accident that had the opportunity to grow."
"You… grew," Harry commented, looking as if he was trying to taste the words he spoke.
"Yes. A Horcrux anchored to a living vessel would always fight the vessel for control. It is its nature, as a leech with its prime directive of keeping its creator alive irregardless of what may happen to their body."
"And you're a failure."
The Horcrux nodded a fraction. "I am a failure. I wasn't strong enough to take your body over and I never became strong enough. I could only whisper sweet nothings to your conscience. I gave you the nudge to do what was necessary with Quirrell. I have been doing that… forever, really. That said, as irregular as I was, I never had the instinct to fight for control. My own creator didn't know I existed, and so couldn't direct me; perhaps he still doesn't. Thus, I grew as you did. I went through a mockery of a childhood, simply gaining knowledge and feelings as my own entity by living through you. I have become my own existence and in my last moments, I felt what living feels like. To know what is is to be alive for both the first and last time in my existence"
Harry, paying rapt attention to every single word, felt a little lost at the last sentence. Something that did not escape the seemingly all-seeing red eyes.
"We worked in harmony for the first and last time. Everything you have lived through brought me closer to the surface of your own conscience, from the pull I felt from Tom - as I am a part of him - during your first year, to the basilisk venom nearly killing both of us and the subsequent phoenix tears that healed us, to the Dementors trying to consume us both and stirring the already fragile pot of your life."
Harry didn't respond. He simply kept paying attention and observing Tom's soul piece.
"And finally, last year in that graveyard. He was reborn using your blood and was finally able to touch you. Do you remember how he proved it?"
"He touched me. He touched the scar," Harry said thoughtfully and his eyes snapped up to look into the red orbs. "You're the scar. Literally."
X
The Great Hall was in a state of quiet tension. The artificial sky above them looked stormy, plagued with dark-grey clouds. Lightning tore across the ceiling, eliciting loud thunderclaps that rang out through the stone room. When the light faded, the clouds remained parted and between them the shape of an awfully familiar lightning bolt scar was formed, almost burnt into the sky.
When the students woke up, they found a notice that Dolores Umbridge was no longer the Headmistress and no longer within the grounds of Hogwarts. Nobody knew whether it was a joke or not; what everyone knew was that they should tread carefully. Alongside that, a notice of the last O.W.L. exam - which was History of Magic - being postponed was posted.
That said, the formations the detestable woman had instituted were not kept; the students felt the first semblance of normality return after several weeks, just in walking with their friends to the Great Hall for a morning meal.
The High Table had two notable empty seats; Minerva McGonagall was nowhere to be found, nor was anyone sitting upon the Headmaster's throne. Conversations, which had been whispered throughout the room about the recent developments, paused the moment that the most unusual group of students walked together through the main doors.
Daphne Greengrass and Hermione Granger walked in the front, arm in arm. Neville Longbottom, Ronald Weasley and Susan Bones walking close behind them.
Their robes were immaculate and clean, yet their faces were covered in minor scratches and obvious signs of battle. In Neville's case, an angry-red line was visible just above his shoulder blade, ending before his neck. Lack of sleep was clear to anyone with functioning eyes, yet they all walked with purpose and heads raised high despite that.
They made for an imposing, some would even say frightening, sight. Yet someone just had to run their mouth.
"Consorting with mudbl-"
Five red jets of light were immediately launched from the imposing group, not even giving the blustering blond Malfoy a chance, before he was felled by the group.
The tension was palpable within the Hall as everyone held their breath.
"Miss Parkinson," Professor Snape drawled from his seat at the High Table. "Please carry Mister Malfoy to the infirmary. And if I hear anyone else running their mouth afoul, they will be punished harshly."
Pansy nodded slightly as she levitated the unconscious body of Draco Malfoy out of the Great Hall.
The group broke up for their respective tables. The Gryffindors huddled together while Susan joined Hannah Abbott at Hufflepuff, and Daphne moved to sit besides Tracey.
The moment they touched their seats, owls flooded into the Great Hall, all of them carrying the Daily Prophet.
An emergency edition was published and delivered to every wizarding citizen in Britain, regardless of subscription status and free of charge.
A shriek was heard from the Ravenclaw table and then chaos ensued.
Daphne was stuck watching the front page in awe. It depicted a bloodied, limping Dark Lord launching a sickly green spell towards the unconscious Harry Potter, right before a Phoenix appeared and saved the boy's life.
A lone tear escaped Daphne's eye as she saw the near-death experience Harry had gone through, but it was mixed with happiness and something akin to pride. Whatever had made the Dark Lord look so weak, Harry had done it. It was Harry's achievement and the whole world would know.
CHAOS AT THE MINISTRY! YOU-KNOW-WHO IS BACK!
DARK LORD BROUGHT TO HIS KNEES BY THE CHOSEN ONE!
By Rita Skeeter
Chaos ensued last night within the Ministry of Magic as You-Know-Who and his followers rampaged through the area in pursuit of the Boy-Who-Lived. Harry Potter was led to the Ministry by a trap staged by well-respected members of this society, Lord Lucius Malfoy and Lord Corban Yaxley.
Let me assure you, dear readers, they will not remain well-respected after this. Lord Malfoy was arrested within the Department of Mysteries where he was found bound and wandless. Lord Yaxley was found unconscious and wounded within the fabled Hall of Prophecies.
From those points of interest alone, it is safe to assume that their target was something within the Department of Mysteries. The Hall of Prophecies specifically would suggest a prophecy involving our young hero and You-Know-Who. Perhaps, the Boy-Who-Lived could be our Chosen One, and this reporter will be calling him as such.
A battle between the forces of the Death Eaters and the Order of The Phoenix - a paramilitary organisation that was active during the first war of Wizarding Britain, led by Albus Dumbledore - was kept within the confines of the Ministry Atrium, reducing it to rubble and dust in the process. That was where You-Know-Who was kept busy, fighting back against the Order as Lords Malfoy and Yaxley pursued the Chosen One.
That was until the Boy-Who-Lived came. There is only speculation regarding the fight, but two things are for certain. Harry Potter was left unconscious and is speculated to be in a magical coma, whilst You-Know-Who appeared to be on his last legs due to his valiant efforts, before Albus Dumbledore, Defeater of Grindelwald, arrived on scene, causing He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named to flee.
We can only wish a quick recovery to Harry Potter and advise the readers to remain cautious.
(For more on The Boy-Who-Lived, page 3)
(For more on You-Know-Who, page 6)
(For more on the Department of Mysteries, page 9)
(For more on The Order of The Phoenix, page 14)
As the Great Hall tried to process the events written in the paper, Albus Dumbledore had appeared - as well as Professor McGonagall - and was waiting for the student body to calm down at the podium. Students slowly started taking notice of his presence and soon all noise within the hall had died down.
"As I'm sure you all know by now, some events occurred during the early hours of this morning within the Ministry of Magic," the Headmaster spoke in a serious tone as his eyes scanned the crowd. "While the Daily Prophet is usually keen on creative freedom and unnecessary embellishments, I must inform you all that everything written within today's paper was factual."
The announcement was met with stunned silence from the hall, with students hanging upon every word.
"Last night, shortly after the conclusion of the Astronomy O.W.L. exam, Dolores Umbridge abducted Harry Potter, taking him to the Ministry of Magic. The plot behind this event is not something to be shared, but let me make one thing clear because there will be questions. Harry Potter did not choose to go to the Ministry, rather, he was taken forcibly. He fought valiantly to escape and was helped by several students that chose to chase after their friend. Such was their courage and determination to do what was right, rather than what was easy." Almost immediately, all eyes in the Great Hall turned in different directions towards the five students. "I assure you it could be handled better and I implore students to not jump straight into danger, to let the ones responsible handle it, but I cannot in good conscience write off their actions because they were rash, or like some would say, rather foolish," his eyes flickered briefly towards Snape, who in turn smirked slightly.
"As for Harry Potter, he fought off Lord Voldemort himself last night," several students shrieked and flinched when the name was mentioned, and even most teachers had a reaction. "He did not fight to prove a point, he did not fight for the thrill, or to seek attention. No, Harry Potter fought for everyone else. He put his life on the line to protect, not only his allies or his friends that followed him, but to protect everyone. Harry Potter did not do what was easy, which was to escape. He did what was right!"
At that same moment, another bolt of lightning tore through the enchanted ceiling.
"That gesture is who Harry Potter is. For that gesture, he is currently healing within our Hospital Wing. I hope it is not forgotten when he returns to us."
X
"I am," it said with a smile. "And that gesture alone brought me to the surface. My and his characteristics bled into you. Cunning, ruthlessness and most prominently, anger, along with a mean streak a mile long. Don't get me wrong, you already had those in spades. I only made them more prominent. Combined with Miss Greengrass' efforts to teach you Occlumency and to embrace your Slytherin traits, here you are. The man you were always meant to be. That said, I also tried to make you… A tad bit more violent. It would suit you."
Harry's eyes glinted with amusement. "The hat did say I would do well in Slytherin."
The Horcrux chuckled. "That you would, Harry. That you would. I assume you also noticed that since the graveyard, you've had a greater connection with him."
"I assume your… ascension was to blame?"
"That's right. I was always here, but being connected to my creator for the first time brought that connection to the surface. I, of course, manipulated it to our benefit."
"Why?" Harry asked suspiciously. Red eyes in front of him sparkled with amusement.
"I was, but no longer am a part of Tom because that's how I feel. Honestly, I feel more like a part of you than a part of Voldemort. I grew alongside you, Harry Potter. Irrevocably, I became a part of you. That's why I look just like you; because that is how I identify myself. I have always been by your side, but I've only been able to communicate with you this last year. Of course I would help my sole, albeit ignorant, friend."
"If… If I hadn't cast Manu Dei… Would you still be here? Would we be able to communicate? To work together?" Harry asked with a hint of sadness.
"Perhaps. But this is better. This is how it was always meant to be. You were meant to be free, Harry."
"It is still not fair. You might be his part, but you were an accident, left for dead inside my head."
A pale white light pulsed through the void as the Horcrux looked at Harry, incredulous due to his proclamation.
"How is it that you can show compassion and love to even an abomination like me? How can a human being love so unconditionally?"
"You are a part of me. I can feel it. It's probably why I feel so sad," Harry said in response. "You're freeing me, yes. But at what cost? I've grown with you inside of me, as you said. I can already feel the missing piece."
Suddenly, what was left of the remaining arm of the Horcrux turned to black mist, leaving only the decimated torso and head. Despite that, the Horcrux smiled widely.
"You're a unique wizard, Harry Potter."
X
"You will spend the rest of the term on this chair?" Tracey Davis asked as she entered the Hospital Wing. Her eyes immediately found Daphne sitting next to the still unconscious Harry Potter. At some point a couple of days ago, his scar finally stopped bleeding. Now he looked like a sleeping wizard, with steady breaths.
Still, he did not look relaxed. Daphne could see all the stress in the world upon him, as if he was Atlas holding the sky upon his shoulders.
"I will be here until he wakes up," Daphne murmured as she absently stroked Harry's hand with her free one - her other hand held a book on sixth year DADA spells.
Tracey sighed and moved towards her, sitting on the unoccupied bed next to her. "You care more than you let on."
Daphne simply nodded.
"Not only did you abandon every sense of self preservation, you also formally allied yourself to him to do so."
Daphne simply nodded.
"You have fallen for him, haven't you?"
As Daphne tried to think of a response to her friend's prying, an irritated Tracey cuffed the back of her friend's head, causing an indignant cry of surprise to escape her lips.
"What the hell, Tracey?!"
"Start speaking to me," the brunette huffed in annoyance. "You've got to get out of here at some point. You only leave to eat and sleep."
"Don't act like there are classes or anything of the sort, Trace. There is literally nothing else we can do," Daphne stated with her head raised high. "As the only thing I can do is either laze around or study ahead, I'm choosing to do the latter and have decided to do it in his company," she continued, gesturing towards the unconscious Harry with her hand.
Even that gesture was unnecessarily elegant.
"I can see that," Tracey responded drily. "At least you're never alone here. The rest of your Suicide Squad visits multiple times every day as well."
"That's what true friends do, Trace."
"Don't lie to yourself, Daph. You're not his friend," Tracey said smugly as she got up.
Daphne's eyes glinted dangerously. "What did you just say?"
"I just said that you're not his friend. You won't settle for that. You love him too much to be just a friend."
Daphne's eyes widened. "Th- that… That's a big word, Tracey. I wouldn't say that I lo-"
"Yes you do. I can see that. We can all see that. But you can work on that when he wakes up. For now you should just come with me for breakfast at least," the brunette witch said as she motioned with her hand towards the double doors of the Hospital Wing. Daphne sighed, closed her book and rose from her seat.
"We're leaving tomorrow. I can only hope he… wakes up before that. I don't know if I will see him during summer," Daphne commented sadly as they started walking.
"We can only hope."
Neither noticed the twitch of Harry's hand and the rustling of the curtains around him.
X
The void was unravelling at an alarming rate by this point.
Harry turned his gaze from the remains of his first, albeit unknown companion to take in the landscape, or lack thereof.
Behind the threads of the void, he could see parts of his own mindscape starting to peak through.
"It is nearly time, Harry," the Horcrux said, pulling him out of his musings.
"I know. I can see it. I can feel it."
"Before I'm gone, I want to say something to you." The Horcrux scanned Harry's face until he was satisfied that he had his undivided attention. "I was never able to love. I know that Tom is incapable of that. My instincts only knew anger, pain and fear from him. But you taught me what love is."
Harry did not answer. He kept soaking in the words.
"Every other connection I feel with the other Horcruxes lacks positive feeling. He is a man consumed by his own malice. I don't know if he sacrificed those things in the rituals but… He is empty. You, Harry Potter, are different."
"I grew up without love. Even today… I don't know what it is, not really."
"Yes you do. You might not realise it, but you're surrounded by love. Your friends love you. Sirius loves you. Remus loves you, in his own way. Dumbledore, I believe, loves you. Daphne loves you. Every time someone makes you feel warm, makes you feel wanted, makes you feel precious… That is love. At least that's what I've deduced."
Harry chuckled. "Clinical diagnosis."
Red eyes danced with mirth in response. "You are cherished. You are loved. Cherish it in turn. Don't lose yourself in your anger. We've grown in hardship and pain, but you are beyond that. Despite your pain and suffering, you love those around you. You love your friends, you cherish them and would give yourself to protect them. You would rather soak in misfortune in their stead. You know what it feels like and you'd rather take it upon yourself rather than let them feel it. You protect them, in your own way. You shelter them, much like a father striving to bear everything so that he can see his family thrive.
"You love Sirius, the first father figure you have ever known. It pains you more than anything not being able to see him as a free man, and you're willing to give him freedom and stay by his side, as it was always meant to be.
"You love Dumbledore as a mentor and a guide. The wise grandfather you never had, with all his quirks and eccentricities. You have seen his burdens and his responsibilities. You have felt his mistakes, and yet you forgive. I have seen your thoughts, I know you want to alleviate his burden in his old age. You want to step up, to make him proud of the man you have become. Any other person would feel manipulated, but not you. You see the truth of a hard choice and you grew despite it.
"You love Daphne. You would give your own life to see her safe, you would burn the world if it wronged her. For she is the witch that made you think of making your own family for the first time. I know nothing of the concept of soulmates, but if it exists, I hope you two are in such a situation."
"You know too much," Harry replied in amusement. Despite that, his eyes were glazed with tears.
The torso of the Horcrux was gone.
"Of course I do. I was always in your head, Harry."
"This is also in my head."
"It is. Everything around us is happening inside your head. That does not make it any less real. I only hope… I made an impact. That my existence, no matter how insulting it was to Lady Magic, mattered."
"I will not forget you. You existed. You were here. You influenced who I was for the better."
"Do you think someone like me had a chance? Do you believe that…" The neck of the Horcrux turned to haze and kept moving. The side of his head also disappeared. The left eye was gone, as were the ears. An ear, right eye, mouth and a tiny patch of unruly black hair was all that remained, waiting to be consumed by the unravelling void. "I deserved a life?"
"All souls deserve to live. You were nothing when you came to be… But you've grown. You might not be whole, but you became your own entity. You say that you are a part of me, but you are different in my eyes. If we truly were the same, we wouldn't be able to have a conversation like this," Harry said sadly.
The disembodied smile widened and the sole red eye sparkled. "And yet I don't have a name."
"Hmm…" Harry hummed thoughtfully. In truth, a name came to his head without trouble. "I think I'll call you Hadrian."
"Hadrian huh," the eye slowly disappeared, as did the rest of the head. The remaining mouth started disappearing, but not before he finished speaking.
"I like it. I am Hadrian, nice to meet you…"
The mouth disappeared, and Harry was left alone in the quickly unravelling void. A pulse of raw magic shook the landscape and a sudden light burst through the black seams.
"I'm Harry. Nice to meet you, Hadrian."
The void exploded into light.
X
The entirety of the school was gathered in the Great Hall for the last breakfast of the term. Cups would be awarded and the final announcements would be made.
When the last of the students filed in, Dumbledore stood up to speak.
"We have reached the end of yet another year at Hogwarts. It was a trying year for all of us, but the light will always…"
Dumbledore's eyes widened as he saw the permanently cloudy skies of the enchanted ceiling. Every student turned their eyes upwards to see why the Headmaster suddenly stopped speaking.
A bright beam of light tore through the clouds, almost as if the morning sun broke through the darkness.
"... shine through," Dumbledore whispered. He immediately knew what was happening, since he was the one who caused it. As Headmaster, he had control of the surface level enchantments within the castle. As such, he had linked the fake sky to Harry Potter's bed, in order to monitor his situation.
He was waking up.
A sudden roar of wind was heard and the doors of the Great Hall burst open, causing many students to yell out in surprise and mild panic.
The wind was accompanied by an ever-present rumble that started alongside it. To many, it felt like the castle itself was vibrating.
Suddenly, Dumbledore, along with Professors Snape, McGonagall and Madam Pomfrey took off. Behind them, Sprout and Flitwick shared an amused look before the diminutive Professor stood.
From the Slytherin table, Daphne felt exactly what had happened. She moved to stand up and rush after the teachers, maybe even overtake them and arrive in the infirmary first. Yet she found herself stuck on the table. A cursory glance around showed her that many students had tried to follow the Headmaster and his entourage, but she was certain none of them had the same reasons as her.
"I'm afraid you should remain in your seats," Professor Flitwick said as his wand danced around the hall. "Our colleagues are more than enough to handle the situation at hand."
Within the infirmary was a whole other scene. Wind was blowing incessantly, born from nothing at all. A result of pure magic that had snapped open the moment copious amounts of black mist escaped from Harry Potter's scar. All windows within the room were blown outwards, the sound akin to a bomb going off inside of a china shop.
As soon as the mayhem had started however, it ended.
It ended the moment a pair of bright, emerald green eyes snapped open.
The Chosen One looked around curiously, his brain registering the fact that he was in the Hospital Wing of Hogwarts.
'What a surprise,' he thought drily as he stood up and walked to the front of his bed. He paid no heed to his destroyed surroundings.
He was too busy thinking about his apparent dream; a dream he knew well enough was real. He now knew he was no longer a Horcrux, and despite the sad demise of Hadrian, he felt free and light. He even felt better than ever before.
A look around him confirmed another feeling.
'Stronger, too.'
Suddenly, the doors to the infirmary were blasted open and Dumbledore and the rest of the faculty appeared, their faces showing clear shock at the state of the infirmary.
"Harry," Dumbledore breathed and his shoulders sagged as a burden was lifted from his conscience.
"Hey, Professors. What did I miss?" Harry asked cheekily, only for Madam Pomfrey to walk up determined.
She cuffed him on the back of his head.
"You were in a coma, Mister Potter! You will lay in bed at once!"
Harry chuckled.
X
"I still don't understand why you connected him to the wards of Hogwarts," a regal, female voice spoke from her portrait.
Four portraits were hanging above a single, inaccessible door on a balcony above the seventh floor. For years, no one had ever seen a wizard or witch in those portraits. Everyone who had tried to reach the floor by various means had met with failure.
Yet now, the four portraits were occupied in their spot above the wooden door. The witch who spoke wore yellow, regal robes and her mane of red hair was tied in an elegant bun. Her hazel eyes betrayed slight irritation. Next to her, a wizard stood with a long, reddish-brown beard with streaks of white and a wild mane - which almost looked like a lion's mane - of hair, sharing the colours of his beard. His black eyes danced with mirth. He wore red battle armour and he looked very well built even beneath the dyed dragonhide. Next to him, a black haired woman with piercing blue eyes wearing a regal blue dress smirked in response to the redhead woman's words. Her smirk caused a pair of adorable dimples on her pale, porcelain skin.
"You know I always had a weakness for my favourites, Helga," the black-haired witch responded.
"It is to be expected," the wild-looking wizard spoke in turn, his deep baritone causing Helga to wince. "Of course my Heir would be beloved by all of us."
Next to the regal looking woman in blue, a wizard with pure silver hair and beard turned his emerald green eyes to his left, as if to look at his wild companion. He absentmindedly stroked his green robes before he spoke. "Being your heir is woefully lacking. I mean… You own nothing more than that, Godric. He simply inherited the title of 'The Gryffindor' by managing to pull your annoyingly reflective sword out of your raggedy old hat."
"Yes, yes, my status is not as important as you, Oh Great Founder Salazar."
Salazar clicked his tongue in response. "That said, the boy has promise. He is also a favourite of mine. Rowena knows."
"Despite the fact that he killed your own familiar using the 'annoyingly reflective sword', as you called it?" Helga responded in jest.
"Yes, Helga. It is a shame, but it is something that had to be done. Sellia lost her purpose long ago."
"So all of you just… support Rowena's decision to link him to the wards? His burst of magic affected the whole castle for no reason," Helga exasperated.
"No harm done, Helga dear," Rowena responded with a wave of her hand. "He doesn't know it and won't know it before he enters the Maze."
"Well, he is my heir, but will he really enter the Maze? No one has before. Not even your heir, Sal," Godric interjected.
Salazar's eyes twitched. "My heir had no chance of solving our puzzle. He was too blinded by his own brilliance to do so. From what we know, he still is."
"That sounds like a 'you' problem to me," Godric quipped and shrugged. "Too bad the wrong child got your title and won't even use it."
Salazar's eyes twitched again. "No matter. He is next in line and they're eternal enemies. One of them will fall to another's wand. I only hope the young one emerges victorious."
"He is already a Founder in the Wizengamot, Sal," Rowena idly commented.
"And you want to give him the reins of Hogwarts," Salazar responded irritably.
"You're no better, Lord of Nature," Helga bit from the side.
"You chastise us this whole time while you're coaxing your beasts in the castle to protect him! Is he supposed to become the next Scamander?" Salazar responded incredulously and the three founders started bickering with each other.
Meanwhile, Godric simply stared ahead with a sad smile.
"Am I the only one who can't give him some kind of awesome legacy from my family?"
"You're Muggleborn!" The three founders responded and Godric started laughing.