Chapter Text
The fog is back. I can feel it. Warping all over my mind, slowly taking it in piece by piece. I had my suspicions, but this confirms it. All rational thoughts have left me once again. It was just like before. At least it sure felt like it did before. Before my world was torn apart right in front of me. Love, hate, danger, uncertainty; they were all things I witnessed during my childhood.
If you would even call that a childhood; the abuse was almost unbearable. For me, it certainly felt as if I was forced to grow up too fast. Way too fast.
Voldemort – that was the name of the darkest wizard to exist. The one that had been after me most of my short, short life. But that was all in the past now. Yet his downfall was the one thing I couldn’t rid my mind of.
His downfall was the one thing that kept me awake most nights. A murderous rampaging lunatic finally defeated. Nonetheless, the guilt coursed through my veins now more than ever.
Although many would call it stupid, others selfish, I had been the one to kill him, and it still felt as if it was the worst decision I had ever made. I mean murder, I wouldn't have thought I was ever capable of such a thing. Even in the worst situations, like when Sirius was killed during my fifth year at Hogwarts, I couldn't even bring myself to curse Bellatrix for her crimes. Don’t get me wrong, she most definitely would have deserved it.
So why now? Even if it was for the so-called ‘greater good,’ why do I feel like this, like a piece of myself is missing. Like a missing piece out of a puzzle, lost underneath a cupboard forever. I mean this was what I wanted all my life wasn't it? Shouldn’t I be happy? Relieved even?
So here I am now, sat on my bed, hands folded in my lap, thoughts racing a mile through my head. As well as the battle flashbacks still raging through my mind, almost like it was yesterday, the screams of the past students continued to echo inside. I couldn’t free myself from them.
But that wasn’t even the worst part. Deep down, deep inside my head, a thick cloud fogged my mind. Whether or not it was real was a different story. But whatever it was, it was really messing with me. One minute I am craving my friends and family, the Weasleys, but the next I feel repulsed by the mere thought of them. Why? What’s happening to me?
Was I a bad person? I had committed a crime, had I not? I had killed someone – villain or not. I was no better than Lord Voldemort. Burying my vacant face in my hands, my mind continued ticking; going through the previous events over and over again. It didn’t help that I was alone with my thoughts.
But a lone part of my mind whispered through the darkness, that I was in no fit state for company. However, that's not possible, everything feels better when I’m with Ron, Hermione and Ginny. Everything feels clearer. Now if that wasn’t a difficult thing to comprehend.
The sudden questioning of my choices forced another headache upon me, my head aching with remorse. It was slowly getting worse, sweat poured down my forehead at the pressure I was putting upon myself to not make any noise of pain. Pain makes you weak. At least, that's what I’ve been told my whole life from the Dursleys, and no one has contradicted them yet. Not even my friends.
The clothing I had been wearing was damp from the sticky sweat that continued gushing through my pores. It didn’t seem to stop.
Suddenly a memory raced through my mind; it was during second year, as I was slowly listening to Dumbledore sing my praises. It warmed my heart for a while, but that feeling quickly vanished. Just as Mrs. Weasley came in for a hug, talking a million miles per hour about saving her precious Ginny. The hug in which she bumped my newly healed arm, that was still searing in pain from the Basilisk’s sharp, sharp tooth that had so wrongfully dug into my arm.
A hiss escaped me before I could control it, and Mrs. Weasley quickly pulled back, giving me a miniature look of disgust, before it quickly turned into a sorry expression. Yet she still didn’t pull away, not completely at least. That was what cemented the belief that pain makes you weak.
Speaking of pain, I could feel another wave was about to begin. No matter how hard I tried to block the thoughts out, it seemed there was nothing that could be done but suffer through the immense agony I was about to experience. My mind was like a battlefield; there was no telling when the torment would stop, and it certainly felt as if I had been shot in every joint with a high-level blood-boiling Cruciatus Curse.
The fog pushed against my mind, blurring my vision further. I was going insane. The pain was excruciating. It was unbearable. Is this what Neville’s parents felt like? No wonder they are still in a coma.
How I wish it would all be over. Suddenly an unsettling voice whispered, sounding like it was both in my ears, yet still inside my own mind, which sent sold chills up my spine. ‘You’re a monster and you and all those you once associated with know that. You have been betrayed by those you once called friends. It’s all your fault.’
“Stop it!” I called out, realizing just how insane I sound. Here I was, alone in Sirius’ old bedroom at 12 Grimmauld Place, screaming at myself. I’m calling it; I had gone mental. The fog inside my mind continued to claw at my skull, as if trying to kill me from the inside, out. Was my body about to shut down? Was this the end? It sure felt like it.
My legs slowly gave out under me, and I collapsed straight onto the floor with no muscles about to stand my body. Trying to gather my wits, yet I was still trembling uncontrollably in pain. As I tried to lift myself up off the floor, using the only muscles that remained in my arms, they began shaking like hell and I found myself back on the floor, face buried in the planks.
God, is this how Sirius felt, trapped and alone in this dark, gloomy room? No wonder he was constantly trying to get out of this place. If I had the physical capability to move, I would be out of here in a heartbeat. But here I am, trapped inside my mind, barely able to move, pain surging through my body.
I desperately squeezed my eyes shut, trying with all my might to concentrate on my thoughts. I mentally kicked myself, cursing myself for not putting my best effort towards Snape’s lessons. I needed them now more than ever, and here I was, unable to remember what to do. Searching as quickly as I could through the clouded fog, trying to access the one memory I actually needed, a sudden flashback appeared in my vision but quickly disappeared.
Desperate for that memory back, I thought back to the days I promised myself to ignore. The attempted mind rape was not something I focus on often, as it gave me flashbacks to certain days at the Dursleys.
Another shiver ran up my spine at the mere memory of it. Quickly dissing that thought as quickly as it came, I focused again. There it was. ‘Build a fortress, of any type, maybe of Prince Potter’s perfect home,’ Snape hissed quietly with a sneer before immediately mentally slamming into me again. Fortress, build a Fortress, what the hell was that supposed to mean?
Okay, I’ve got this! The first step of any fortress is walls. So, should I mentally build walls? Or does it mean physically? No. How the hell does that work? Another searing pain quickly erupted from inside my mind. It felt as if lava was gushing inside my head. It’s now or never!
With lots of concentration, slowly, very slowly due to the pain, individual bricks started forming down in a circle. I focused harder, lifting each brick on top of each other. After about 30 uncomfortable painful minutes, I had finally done something. Now let me tell you, that something was barely anything in the grand scheme of things, but it’s good enough.
About four thousand bricks have been laid, all around the fog that has been blocking parts of my mind and memories. Now trapped with nowhere to go, lost, I slowly began putting pressure on the bricks, carefully focusing on making sure they start steadily collapsing inwards, due to the next thing I face being the biggest dilemma yet.
So here I am trying to keep a tight hold on the circle of bricks by making sure it won't all crumble, leaving me to face my demise alone. Whispers surrounded me from all angles, gradually getting louder and louder. It was coming from the fog, trying to throw me off my game. Trying to distract me so I make a big mistake. But I won't let it.
Although I don't like it, I am nicknamed The-Boy-Who-Lived for a reason, and I won't let some shitty little fog get the best of me today. With that thought, I gave one final mental shove, heaving out in breath.
Snap! The loud sound echoed all around me, both in my mind and in the outside world. Startled, I prepare for something else. Another fog maybe? Apparition! That's what it sounded like; it must be a Death Eater coming to finish what their master started. Honestly at this point I don’t care; I’m in too much pain.
Craving the sweet release of death. Waiting a few minutes and yet still hearing nothing but the whispers of my mind, I slump back down, noticing the whispers slowly retreating like shadows at dawn.
Carefully opening my eyes, I notice the sun has just risen. I must have been at that for hours, but I can't bring myself to care. All I need right now is an extraordinarily strong pain reliever, and dreamless sleep. I had had enough dreams. After all, throughout that pain, it is a miracle I'd managed to hold onto my sanity amidst the mental battle of will.
Dragging myself up and onto the bed, feeling number than ever and prepared to never wake up.
However just as I was on the brink of sleep, one final though crossed my mind. What the hell was that fog?
***************************************Time Skip*****************************************
I woke up with a start, aching all over, I thought the pain had stopped. Apparently not. My muscles are burning, feeling like I’ve been running nonstop for hours. However, at the same time I feel better than ever. Freer, stronger. My mind is clearer than ever, memories sharper, emotions stronger. I feel like a whole new person.
A distant Pop into the room interrupted my thoughts. With a quickness I didn’t know I possessed, I managed to grab both my glasses and wand at once. Instantaneously prepared for a fight. Noticing it was just Kreacher with both a sneer and a look of concern on his ugly, round, wrinkled face, I looked around the room. It seems during my fight with the fog, my magic was also lashing out.
A large hole ripped through the ceiling, emptying the contents of the roof onto the now half-cracked floor. I began coughing; the dust filling my lungs. Covering my nose with my shirt, the one that had once belonged to Sirius, I walked over to the bed I had just been laying in. Two of the legs had snapped, the thin wood splintering.
The sheets were tousled, and the insides of the pillows had been spread across the floor. I swallowed hard, forcing a lump down my throat. Layers upon layers of Sirius’ old clothes had been thrown onto the floor, some shredded, others barely intact.
I had to fight back the tears that so willingly tried to burst out of my eyes. I picked up a leather jacket, sliding my fingers over the material before threading my arms through the sleeves. It still had Sirius’ familiar scent, warm and rich.
Ahem! Startled out of my thoughts, I immediately look over to Kreacher who has the most awed yet deadpanned look on his face. “Powerful Blood traitor don’t know how he done it”. The end part was murmured, yet still easy to hear in the otherwise silent room. Don’t know how he done it? Did what? I mean I know the room is in ruins, but that’s no different to any other time my emotions got the best of me.
Almost like seeing the look of confusion on my face, Kreacher gave out a breathy, croaky sigh. And if there’s one sound I never want to hear again, it’s that. “Stupid half-blood doesn’t even know what he did.” He mumbled under his breath again. Louder and clearly aimed at me, he quickly gave me one more look of disgust before announcing, “Harry Potter will follow me to the kitchen,” before immediately popping away.
So now here I am, heading to the kitchen, taking in the dark and gloomy yet somehow comforting halls, I couldn’t help but notice that the paintings all appeared to be glancing eerily over at me. Feeling oddly self-conscious, I looked down at my feet as I continued walking, but still, part of me couldn’t help but keep looking up at the paintings, in fear, what would they say, will they also get mad at me for being a ‘blood traitor’?
I had never been looked at like that before, not even during my school years. I heard whispers in the distance from nearby portraits. “It’s him…” “The half-blood who done it!” “Shh, keep your voice down, Ophante” “Impossible” “He’s the one who killed…” “Oh really, no wonder he’s powerful.” What in the world? Had something happened that I was unaware of? Why are they talking about me? Well, at least I assume they were talking about me…
Anyway, still feeling self-conscious, but prepared to ignore them, I continue down to the kitchen. Not daring to look back up at the paintings. As I enter, a wave of nostalgic familiarity hits me, slowly suffocating me in the best way. Except for that edge around it, that feeling of annoyance, betrayal and selfishness.
Slowly, those feeling become more and more intense, adding pressure into the room. I fought back tears. I quickly look around for anything that could clue me into the reasoning, but everything looks the same in the kitchen; dimly lit and serene, with a soft glow of candlelight flickering across the aged and crinkled walls.
The room shouldn’t feel like home, due to it being my prison during the last few years with Sirius. Don’t get me wrong, I would choose it over Privet Drive any day. But at the same time, there’s a pull on my magic, slowly connecting into every crack and scratch within the house. It makes me feel safe and protected. Like I finally belong. Why hasn’t it ever felt like this before? Is it because I now defeated Voldemort? Or is it because I’m by myself, and not with my f-friends?
No! Don’t think that, stupid Harry. But, at the same time, why has this never occurred before? Is this normal? Have I broken something? Knowing my stupid Potter luck, that is likely. I scoff. All thoughts suddenly stop when another loud poof occurs. Now sitting in front of me is pasta.
Plain, doughy, pasta. Why pasta? Did Kreacher make it? If so, is it poisoned? Has he added a large dose of The Draught of Living Death? Honestly, I’m done caring at this point. I couldn’t care less. If there was poison in it, then so what. Perhaps it would be easier if there was. At least I would no longer have to deal with any of this anymore.
Slowly picking up the fork, I began eating. As I do so, memories flood back. Laughter, shared stories, whispered secrets, and… betrayal. Betrayal? What betrayal? Trying to get that memory back is a struggle. I tried with all my might to remember it, but as I begin to picture it, another one pops in front, blocking it out of view.
As this flashback popped into my mind, I could see Ron. He wasn’t doing much, just walking. Walking through the corridors at Hogwarts. He looked lonely, and it was at that moment that I missed him. I really, really missed him. I wanted to approach him; to walk up to him and grab his arm, to reassure him that he’s not alone, and he’ll always have me. But then I remembered that it was only a memory, a memory in which I could not be seen. A memory in which I could not be heard.
But something clicked. Something that changed my opinion. Completely. I frowned, for some reason, hate coursed through my bones and into my blood. Why did I feel like this? Ron hadn’t done anything wrong, had he? And yet right now, at this very moment, I despised him! I had missed everything. I had been completely oblivious to what was going on around me.
Ron wasn’t my friend; he didn’t want to be my friend. He only wanted to be friends with Harry Potter, The-Boy-Who-Lived, not me as a person, me as a name. He was jealous. He had always shown it. And it was only now that I was beginning to see that. I remembered there was that time in fourth year where he had wanted to be me.
Real friends wouldn’t do that, would they? I mean, I don’t really know how real friends act, I’ve only ever had Ron and Hermione. Was that intentional too? I had never felt so betrayed in my life. My best friends were fakes. I had put my full trust in them, and now they had completely broken it. It felt like a punch in the gut.
The memory was fading, but a new one was about to begin. It was Hermione. Just her face. Staring at me. Well, not really since I wasn’t actually there. But she was staring ahead, just staring. What was she doing?
Suddenly she turned around and headed to a table, flicking through a thick textbook, quill in hand. I followed slowly behind her but stopped when I noticed the hatred from before had begun to contaminate my mind again. I didn’t miss Hermione. In fact, I didn’t even want to see her again. Ever.
She never cared about my interests. She only cared about what she wanted to do, for her own benefit. Not once did she let me use my own skills. Not once did she let me use my own knowledge. Everything she ever did was to manipulate me, and how much I learn.
I made my way over to Hermione, taking in the words on the pages. It wasn’t a textbook; she was writing an essay. I stood over her shoulder, squinting slightly at the small writing. The text looked oddly familiar; in a way it looked a bit like my handwriting. I read the first few lines, and it clicked.
Hermione was writing my homework! But why? I had already completed it. It was sitting in my trunk back in my room. Looking back at the work, I couldn’t help but notice it sounded awfully childish, as if a first year had written it. Words were misspelt, the punctuation was completely off. And if that wasn’t bad enough, some of the answers were wrong! I was disgusted. It was very unlike Hermione to not perfect her studies.
I then looked over at her page. The writing was completely different. The letters were curvier, there were no errors, and the answers were all correct. I turned back to the incorrect page, the one that she had just finished. There, in the very left corner of the parchment, a singular word was written. I felt like I had just been stabbed in the heart, for what sat in the corner of the page was my name, Harry Potter.
The third memory slowly began. It seemed to be set at the end of sixth year, but this time of Ginny, my girlfr- or at least she was. But why isn’t she? I love her! Right? The second that thought crossed my mind, it was gone again in an instant, although not by choice. The emotions experienced from myself in the memory have bled across. Betrayal, disgust, fear. What? What’s going on? Watching the memory slowly continue, I realised something. I was confronting her. About what though? Why do I have no memory of it? Did this actually happen?
“How could you?!” Past-me screamed; tears of anger were falling down my face, fogging my glasses. What the hell is this? I choked back tears. Ginny’s face, which had previously been offended and confused instantly morphed into an ugly smirk, “what, you think I actually wanted you?” She cackled, honestly, she was doing a good imitation of Bellatrix.
“All you’re good for is your money, I mean, you’re loaded!” What, NO this can’t be true. This is Ginny we’re talking about, she would never do that, she’s too sweet! No, this is fake, someone is messing with me. It’s not real, it can’t be… or else I would remember it. I nod my head adamantly, ignoring the back of my mind whispering that I’m a fool.
“I’ll tell everyone,” Past-me threatened, trying to pull myself together. All she did was laugh, an ugly, loud mocking laugh. “You think I’ll let you leave me? I need the money!” Before I had a chance to react, to protest, her wand was in my face, “Obliviate!”
No, No! I tried to tell myself it was a lie. But I knew, I knew deep down that it wasn’t a lie. I’d just seen it. I barely had any time to compose myself and come to terms with what I’d just seen before another memory started. This time of both Mr. and Mrs. Weasley, Molly and Arthur, my parents in all but blood. Please, please don’t let this be true. I can’t handle this anymore.
They were sitting around the large dining table, hands clasped together. No matter how hard I tried to block it out, their voices overlapped, only saying my name, only mentioning Harry Potter. And it wasn’t nice. They weren’t mentioning me like a child, their child, but more like an object, a possession. Is that all I am to them?
I brought myself over to them, standing wearily behind. I listened in. “Molly, honestly, he turned up on our doorstep and expected us to care for him. I mean, isn’t that ridiculous? He’s Harry Potter, he has enough money to last him a lifetime. So, why is he constantly leeching off us when we have nothing? And yet he expects us to waste all our earnings on his pathetic little life.” I couldn’t do anything but stand deathly still, I had almost stopped breathing. Wishing, hoping, begging that this wasn’t true.
However, it was confirmed not a moment later by Molly. “Oh, Arthur, you’re completely right. Lily and James would be disappointed in him. The way he goes about things, not offering any money or gifts to our precious Ginny. Even though she helped him defeat Voldemort in her first year. First year, can you believe it? Honestly, she did more work than he did! She was only eleven after all. Honestly can you believe the lies he was sprouting about killing a basilisk. Absolutely ridiculous if you ask me! Even Ron said that was complete bullshit.”
Did he now? Did he actually say that? No, he couldn’t have. But at this point, I’m starting to believe it. Ron, Hermione, and even Dumbledore; there’s no way they were on my side, they were only acting like it because they were overwhelmed by my fame. They aren’t the good guys; they never have been. I mean what even is the so-called ‘greater good’?
However, at the same time, a part of me still wants to cling to all the good times, the laughter and sense of belonging. But another part of me, the part that has slowly been getting louder and more in control since the whispers, knows I need to face reality. Confronting them! This seems to be the only way.
Startled out of my thoughts, I look around the kitchen once more, the shadows still casting long stretches across the floor. The kitchen was cold, with no source of light or heat. But for some strange reason, I enjoyed that. Maybe it’s better to see in the dark. Figuratively speaking.
It feels different now; no longer a place of comfort, more like it knows what I’m about to do and fully supports me. Who knows, most things in the magical world seem to be sentient. That’s something I had always been able to see. I stand up, determined to break free from the chains of their betrayal. It’s time to officially face the echoes of my past and carve a future where I’m finally in control. Fully.
*******************************************************************************************
Steeling myself, I head back to my room to get changed. There’s no point in going if I don’t look my best, to destroy them, see all their resolve crumble and make them beg for forgiveness. I had never really cared about my appearance before, but now, it was worth it. I want to show them that I’m more than just an object they can kick around and walk all over.
I want to show them that I’m not weak, that I can do things they wouldn’t dare think of. That I can- ahem, it seems I got a little ahead of myself. But the point still stands. They will pay. And I will make sure of it, even if it’s the last thing I do.
I needed to confront them, to tell them that I knew what they had done. To tell them that it was over… everything was over. It was time to leave everything behind; 12 Grimmauld Place, Kreacher, the strange, whispering portraits, Sirius’ belongings, and my own guilt. Because if there’s one thing I’ve learnt when thinking about my decisions, it’s that everything that occurred, every death, every ruined family… it’s all Dumbledore’s fault. It always has been. I was just too blind to see it.
Closing the door behind me, I ventured out of the building; the sun’s rays blinding me. I looked around, making sure I was alone. After I noticed there was no one in sight, I apparated. The familiar swishing sound filled my head all whilst my limbs felt as if they were continuously being thrown around. Before long, I was standing just outside The Burrow, feeling slightly nauseous from the spinning.
I ended up in the center of the meadow, the grass overly long and in need of a cut. The chimney had grey smoke puffing out of it. This meant someone was home. Just what I wanted. Honestly, I’m just hoping Fred and George aren’t involved in this, they’ve always had a different feel about them compared to the younger Weasleys. As if they were, I don’t know, misunderstood. A bit like me, really. Besides, I don’t know if I could handle any more betrayal.
After a small walk to the house, I had made it to the back, feeling the front entrance would have been too obvious if they were in the kitchen. I had to find out if the memories were true, if they really were talking shit about me. If they really didn’t love me. Mrs. Weasley’s familiar voice roared in the distance. I had been right; they were in the kitchen. It doesn’t feel right. Spying, that is. But it was the only way.
I slipped in through the back, slow enough to not make any noise. The Burrow was old, and creaking floorboards were common. If I wanted this to work, I could not be seen or heard. It had to go as planned. It just had to. I pushed the door a little more, and it let out a quiet creak. I flinched, biting my tongue to ground me, and quickly freezing up, preparing to immediately surrender myself and act like I was here for Ginny. To my surprise, the constant chatter did not stop. If anything, it escalated. I creeped inside, now away from the door. I clicked it shut and made my way further down the hall.
Stumbling a bit, my heat pulsed. My mind began repeating the memories, the memories of Ron, and Hermione, and Ginny, the memories that made me want to curse someone, preferably them. Loud voices suddenly interrupted my thoughts. They seemed to be coming from upstairs, but I could still hear Mr. and Mrs. Weasley quarrelling in the kitchen.
I had two options; I could make my way into the kitchen and listen in on Molly and Arthur, but do so whilst still avoiding them, or I could make my way upstairs with the risk of the stairs creaking and try and listen to what my friends have to say. Pfft, friends. Did I even have any of those? It sure didn’t seem like it.
Deciding it would be easier to hear what Mr. and Mrs. Weasley had to say first, I slowly unzipped my backpack and pulled out my father’s old cloak, throwing it over myself, hiding myself from view. This was it. Honestly, I was more nervous than I thought. Maybe I was mistaken and the memories I witnessed were just dreams. No. Enough. Ignoring all those doubts, I head off.
Slowly rounding the corner of the kitchen, I hear it. All my thoughts and doubts confirmed. The visions were true, they were very much real. All this time, I had trusted them. I had thought they were my family, my companions, but all along, they’ve been fakes.
Only there for the fame. Only there to brag about how they were close with the famous Harry Potter. I mean, who wouldn’t do that? I am dragged out of my thoughts by voices raising louder. It is clearly Mrs. Weasley; you can tell just by the raging banshee screeching.
“Honestly, Arthur, you would have thought by now he would be dead, will all his stupid, reckless acts. AND-” the word ‘and’ was dragged out in one long screech. “Be honest, if he really thinks that my precious babies are his friends, WHY is he constantly dragging them into danger?” The last word was said with a sneer that would have made even Snape proud. “I never gave him permission to do that, I don’t want my darlings participating in his games. He has a death wish, I’m telling you!”
The thought of Snape brought back more memories to mind. Him slowly bleeding out and dying in my arms, the blood coating my hands like thick paint. The light gradually leaving his empty, black eyes. His final words rang clearly in my head, ‘You have your mother’s eyes.’
Everyone said that to me, but for some reason, it had more meaning when he said it. Perhaps because he seemed to know my mother the best. Bitterness crawled through me. I mean, that’s all I really knew about my parents; their looks, all anyone ever seems to talk about. ‘Merlin’s beard, you look just like your father.’ ‘You have your mother’s eyes.’ ‘Did you know your mum was good at Charms?’ Like honestly, doesn’t anyone ever see me for me?
With that thought, another one quickly came. This one made me rage inside. It made me think that I wasn’t appreciated for… me. The second I’m done here; I am getting a makeover. It’s time for people to know the real me, and not just the Boy-Who-Lived.
Ginny’s voice came from beside me; I didn’t hear them sneaking up. Luckily, I kept my noise of surprise hidden, otherwise everything would be over before it even started. But it definitely did give me a good fright. Interrupted from my thoughts once again, I listen in to what Ginny is saying.
“MUMMM, you know it wasn’t like that!” God, her whining was annoying. My lip curled, bitterly. “The only reason we went with him was because if we didn’t, the potions wouldn’t work. They needed an activation code, come on, you know this.” It was like a bucket of water had been poured on me. I couldn’t hear the response over my own blood rushing through my head.
It suddenly became heavy, pulling my neck down. Is this true? I mean I knew they weren’t my friends anymore, but poisoning me with potions? What were the potions? That’s next level. That’s taking it way too far. And then the strongest thought of all struck me like lightning. Am I going to die?!
Honestly, that thought doesn’t sound as scary as I believed. Dying, I mean, who would want to? But I had died before, and honestly, it was quicker than falling asleep. It wasn’t that bad, truly. I immediately shake my head. No, I’m not suicidal. Not yet at least. Wait, what?
“-ow right, I need him to love ME. But he sure made it impossible,” Ginny’s whining filled my ears again. Wait a minute, what did she mean by impossible? “Oh honestly, what are you on about Ginny?” Hermione’s irritated voice cut across the confusion that was building up in the room. “I mean, that- that little FREAK confided in me once. He tried to break up with me, saying that he realised he had feelings for… well, feelings for… you know, a male, and didn’t want to lead me on anymore. Of course that wouldn’t do, so I erased his memory and upped the dosage of Amortentia.”
What? Feelings for men? What is she on about? I’m not gay! Am I? I mean, sure, maybe some boys at Hogwarts weren’t so bad looking. Cedric sure was nice to look at, with his golden locks… Oh, and Malfoy, I guess; he was always so pale and easy to make flush in anger. His rosy, red cheeks sure weren’t the worst.
Stopping these thoughts once again, the truth settled deep inside my bones. Oh god, I’m gay. I really, truly, was gay. I had feelings for… for the same sex. I ran a hand through my messy hair. Oh my god, I’m gay and yet they still managed to make me forget that and spelled me to fall in love with Ginny.
Another loud screech broke across the room. “That disgusting FAG. Bloody hell, I have been sharing a room with him for years. What if he looked at me? I bet you that bitch did.” Ron shivered in absolute disgust. I fell back against the wall, clutching the corner. I couldn’t help but feel both repulsed at the idea, but also disheartened that my “ex-friends” had so little faith in me.
Arthur’s voice cut through the new tension like a knife. With a cold voice, he clearly stated, “it doesn’t matter; before Dumbledore died, he made a marriage contract, NO stop, I don’t need to hear it, I know you know this Ginny, I’m just telling the others,” his voice gradually grew softer when looking at his favourite children.
Before I even had time to acknowledge the information, I heard Hermione speak up again with clear condescending dismissal in her voice. “Honestly, Ron, how could you not know?” She turned her attention back to Ginny, “Whatever, all that matters is that the second you marry Potter, you owe me more money… oh, and some of the books. I’ve helped you all this time, it’s only fair. Trust me, having to hang around that arrogant boy for years really took its toll on me. Honestly, five-hundred galleons a month is nowhere near what I need. How am I supposed to start my own library with that? It will take years of money to reach that point.”
I was becoming overwhelmed; the need to leave was gradually growing with each passing second. I wanted to leave, to run away and never come back. However, that wasn’t an option. I knew that if I wanted to find out about all their manipulation, I needed to stay and hear all they had to say about me. No matter how hard it became.
But everything I’ve heard, it’s more than I could have ever imagined. Within the few minutes that I had been standing there under the cloak, I had already heard everything. Them stealing from me, them tricking me. And if that wasn’t bad enough, Dumbledore was in on it. This whole time. He made it happen.
They don’t love me. They don’t even like me. I was being poisoned by my now ex-girlfriend. Pfft, girlfriend.
The only thing that could make this day worse, is if I find out that Sirius, Remus or the twins were in on it. They were the only ones who always stuck by my side. I don’t know why, but they did. Even in fourth year, they always believed me, even if the whole school turned on me. Sirius and Remus, constantly sending advice for the tasks, and the twins getting payback on those who had bullied me. I couldn’t be more grateful for them.
Honestly, if they’re not on my side, I don’t know if I could hold myself back.
But back from what though? Killing them? Killing myself? Did I really want to do that?
A loud ding went off interrupting the Weasleys talking, as well as my thoughts. Almost thirty minutes have passed since I arrived. I’ll have to get going shortly. It was getting late, and I didn’t want to raise any suspicions. Holding the cloak tighter towards me to ensure it wouldn’t slip off and reveal me to the Weasleys, I prepared to leave. However, one last sentence from Arthur was all it took for almost all of my resolve to crumble. Oh my god, is there anyone I can trust anymore? Obviously not. I swallowed a lump down my throat.
“Remus and Dumbledore were right; Harry must have been turning over to the dark side. I mean how is it possible that a child, who has only been in the Wizarding World for, what is it now, seven years, somehow managed to defeat the greatest Dark Lord alive? Surely there was something going on there. I’ve always had my suspicions. At this point, he is growing too powerful, too evil. He could kill everyone within seconds if he pleased. But it’s not like we can just send him back to the Dursley’s anymore, since, you know, he is legally an adult.” His voice gradually grew louder and more forceful with each sentence. Before Arthur could go on a rant, Ron spoke up through a mouthful of food.
“Mione, was telling me that in the Muggle world they aren’t legally an adult until they turn eighteen, you could always say he needs to go back for one final year.” Just as Ron went to continue, Hermione jumped in the conversation.
“Holy cricket, Ron, you are so right! And in his final year, we can give his aunt and uncle some more money in exchange for finally finishing him off. Oh, that’s perfect. Since when did you become so clever?” An ear-piercing chuckle escaped her mouth.
I blinked hard. They know about the abuse. They knew what the Dursleys had done to me. How was that even possible? Nobody knew about that. I had never told anybody!
And… Remus thought I was evil. After all he did for me! I trusted him. And, well, I thought he trusted me.
They were going to have me killed. They were going to pay to have me murdered.
Those were the only thoughts in my mind, constantly repeating themselves. Unlike before, they wouldn’t leave. They were trapped in my mind, in an unending cycle.
I honestly don’t know how long I stood there waiting for another bomb to drop. Forty-five minutes? An hour? Two hours? More? Maybe they would even point me out and say, ‘just kidding! Did you enjoy the prank, Harry? Here, have some pudding!’
But it never happened. They continued talking. About everything and nothing. About how after the deed was done, they would be rich, how they have kept my heritage and rights from me this whole time. About how I was apparently emancipated due to the Triwizard Tournament in fourth year. About how dumb I was, and about how I deserved the abuse if not more. My breathing became shaky as I took all of this information in. I struggled to keep myself under control.
My heart broke for every minute I stood there staring into nothing. This house, which used to feel comforting and loving, like more of a home than Privet Drive ever did, has turned into a place I would call Hell. If felt as if the walls were closing in on me, as if I was suffocating, as if I had suddenly become claustrophobic and was trapped in a cave with no exit. I didn’t know what to do. For once in my life, I had become more lost than ever. For once in my life, I had no place to go.
I didn’t know who to trust. Was there even anyone in this depressed world who had my back? Had everyone turned on me? Surely there had to be at least someone. Right? My mind immediately went to the twins, both Fred and George; but what if they were in on it? What if everything was a lie? How will I know? Was there any evidence?
The second that thought crossed my mind, it was answered for me. It seems I do have a little bit of luck left after all. I listened in.\
“What are we going to do about those stupid, disobedient twins?” That was said by Molly; I mean I knew she didn’t care for them as much as her youngest, but still. Up until recently, I thought better of her. It’s like my whole world view is crumbling, in mere hours. It’s like everything I had lived through has been a lie. And a great one at that.
“I don’t know sweetie, they like Harry too much to ever agree with us, as much as it pains me to say this, I think we need to get rid of them… permanently,” Arthur replied to his wife, trying to sound defeated but failing miserably.
With that sentence said, I immediately looked towards Ron. Surely, he would care; they’re his brothers after all, they even fought a whole war with him. And Fred was inches away from death. Everyone had thought he had died. He sure seemed to care in that very moment. But no. No reaction other than a raised eyebrow and quick nod.
No matter how dense Ronald was, no matter how thick, I knew he knew what that meant and the meaning behind those words.
Ginny is another story; she hesitated for a few seconds. Although she clearly knows it has to be done, and she really doesn’t have a choice in the matter, they are still her brothers. The ones that helped her when the diary incident happened in her first year. The ones who helped her through Umbridge’s agonising torture. The ones who stood at her side when she was getting bullied. When I thought, she was finally going to disagree, all that changed.
At the same time, they’re the ones standing in her way, the ones who wouldn’t hesitate to pick Harry over her, to pick the Chosen One over their own sister. They’re the ones who have to die. With her mind made up, Ginny looks up towards her parents giving a nod of agreement.
As depressing as it sounds, having your whole family turn against you, I couldn’t help but smile slightly. This only confirmed that Fred and George weren’t in on their schemes. This confirmed that, despite everything that has been going on, I actually had a chance of convincing the twins to join me. To fight beside me. To win.
Thank Merlin.
That only gives me one option; I need their help, to know how far the manipulation truly goes. If I could get them to tell me everything, then I could potentially end all this. Maybe they have overheard something or have any tools to help make my “friends” stay truthful when I go to confront them later. It doesn’t even matter if these tools hurt them. They deserve it. After all, Fred and George were known for their freaky inventions.
With those final thoughts, my mind was made up; I was getting out of here. Tightening my grip on the cloak, I headed for the door without hesitation, immediately Apparating back to Grimmauld place so I could get dressed into better clothes, clothes that show my true personality, and head to the twins’ shop in Diagon Alley.
*****************************************************************************************
Walking along the beaten track, I reached the one place that showed a flicker of colour. Actually, it was the only colour I had seen for a while now. The war has totally ruined the once beautiful alleyway. There were barely any people walking along the roads, and the ones which were, were constantly looking over their shoulder, waiting for someone to attack them.
The purple bricks stood out in the dark alley along with the bright orange frames, catching the eyes of passersby. A ginormous mobile statue out front of the building told me I had come to the right place, for the statue was nothing else but one of the twins dressed in striped sleeves and holding a rather large top hat with a rabbit glued to his head.
It honestly, made me laugh and brought tears in my eyes. Just that small display demonstrates the love for jokes have not been ruined from this terrible war. In the display windows, toys of all sorts lined the shelves. Extendable Ears, Skiving Snack boxes, Love Potions, and even Pygmy Puffs.
I swung the door open; the bell chiming away to alert the twins of a new customer. Although this place has seen better days, there is still a fair amount of both children and adults in the room, clearly soaking up any comfort they can get. Although the clothes I am currently wearing show no representation of the old me, I still unconsciously tug the hood on my dress robes up higher.
I don’t want the attention, which always seems to follow me; it has gotten way worse since I defeated Voldemort. There’s also that thing the Daily Prophet is saying: The-Boy-Who-Lived-Once-Again, Is He Going to Be the Next Dark Lord? That irritates me every time I see or hear it. I push those thoughts to the back of my mind, searching the store.
My eyes immediately flew over to Fred and George, who were tending to a young boy and his sister. They seem to instantly sense attention on their back, their heads shooting up in my direction.
They pause. However, after not even a moment, they clearly gather their bearing. I noticed them about to call out at me. No, don’t attract too much attention. Putting my hands to my lips, I motion them to be quiet. Understanding this, both Fred and George go back to their customer for the moment, waiting for the right time.
Eventually, I nod to get their attention, and the both of them came waddling over, their newest inventions in hand. “Ah, Harrkins” “to what do we” “owe the pleasure?” They both finished speaking at the same time, raising their eyebrows slightly before looking over at me. “Fred, George, how are you?” I quickly replied, trying to stay on their good side. As the information that I am about to tell them may completely ruin any relationship we had.
They both shrugged in sync, seeming both concerned and suspicious of my behaviour, they quickly place the boxes on a nearby shelf giving their full attention towards me. More thoughts race through my mind. Perhaps this was a bad idea. What if they had already been convinced that I was the bad guy? “Erm…” I began, scratching my head as I tried to find the right words, “do you- do you mind if I have a word with you both? In private?” The last words were said in a whisper as to not draw any attention.
Both twins turn slightly shocked looks onto me. No matter how much I do not like attention, I usually just put up a security charm. So, needing to speak with them privately much be a big shock. However, at least the suspicion has quickly morphed into a more concerned look. Not wanting them to dwell too much on what will happen, I quickly lead them away to a more secluded area; one at the back of the store.
“Guys I… I need your help-” I began, looking away as tears decided to fill my eyes. I reached underneath my glasses to wipe away the tears before turning back to face the twins. “I don’t know what to do, everyone is turning on me, everything I’ve been through, every memory, every laugh, every smile, it’s all been fake and-” I stopped, feeling tears gather in the corner of my eye, however with no choice I slowly raised my own eyes to meet theirs.
The look in their eyes seemed to have given way to both understanding and relief. But understanding and relief? Did they know something? I need to know.
Gathering courage, I think back to the Gryffindor motto, ‘Forti Animo Estote’ or ‘Be of Good Courage’, reminding myself that I am a true Gryffindor, even if I have Slytherin tendencies. I continue, on the verge of tears. “And I just, please tell me you’re not like them… like Ron, and Hermione, and Ginny, and Dumbledore, and Mr. and Mrs. Weasley, please tell me. Fred, George, I’ve always trusted you… you’re different to the rest of them, I know it, I can tell… just please… admit it?”
There was a moment of silence. It was killing me; I couldn’t deal with it. My resolve began to slowly crumble. Every second that they didn’t answer was a stab to my heart. Would they even believe me over their real siblings? George placed his hand on my shoulder, likely sensing my thoughts running wild, “mate, we trust you, we really do… and-” he looked over at Fred, who finished the sentence.
“We knew something was up, we just didn’t know how to poach the subject with you.” I nodded in resignation, not really listening to what they said. Instead, I slowly began to back away. There was no point anymore. I knew they were never going to be on my side…
“Wait, what?” I looked up quickly, the words coming out louder and sharper than I had expected. Did I hear that right? The twins looked at each other, “well Mu- Molly and Arthur weren’t subtle, nor quiet, and we did hear something. Honestly though, we swear we were going to tell you…” “Yeah, we only heard this the other day, and we haven’t had an opportunity to see you yet.” I shook my head, utterly shocked.
Was I hearing this right? Were they on my side? Like, actually? But no, surely not, perhaps my ears are playing tricks on me. “If you could just see for yourself, please?” I begged, still not fully convinced. The twins raised their eyebrows and looked at each other with silent conversation. Having made up their mind, they looked towards me.
“Just… you wait and see, okay? It’s worse than anything you might think or claim to have heard.” I drew my wand from my coat and pointed it directly into the air, swishing it a few times and chanting the incantation, “Memoriam Ostende.”
A bright, blinding light illuminated the back of the shop, covering about a quarter of the shelf. It stayed a plain white colour for a while before changing into a giant blur of colours. All this happened within mere moment, shocking the twins speechless. A moment later, a very familiar image was shown. Me. But it wasn’t just me. Ron, Hermione, Ginny, Arthur, and Molly were there as well.
Looking towards the twins, it was clear they were confused by the scene. It may be due to it seeming so oddly real, and it felt as if it they were standing there, witnessing it all. Perhaps because it did just happen. This was the scene that I had overheard them talking about me just moments ago when I was at The Burrow. “See?” I grinned proudly at my own invention, oblivious to the looks of shock thrown at me.
“What?” the twins both said, tilting their heads at the image. “It shows memories,” I continued to grin, leaning over to whisper in both their ears. “I invented the spell not long ago, you see. Believe it or not, I seem to have a knack for these types of things. I can show you others I made later if you want?” Seeing their looks still haven’t changed from the same shocked expressions, I start to get both nervous and defensive.
“It was just a past time activity, really, uhm…” Looking at the ground, I continue, “thought it’d come in handy… and, well, now here we are. I was originally going to use it to free Sirius and prove he was innocent, but well, I forgot about it, I guess…”
The twins watched closely, taking in the information even though they already knew some of what was going on. The only thing running through their mind was, ‘It’s worse than we thought’. “Harry, although we knew some of this, this… this is just crazy!” “We’re sorry for not confiding in you earlier.” Part of me was listening, but everything they said seemed to go straight over my head. Seeing this, they both rolled their eyes, finding it amusing that I was being so hesitant. “If you would just- oh… you do, do you?”
I finally understood that they were telling the truth. That they truly were on my side. My heart shattered at what they said next, but not in a bad way, it felt like I finally had a family again, like I could finally trust someone. They smiled and nodded, “we’re here for you, mate, always. We’d be willing to kill for you, to die for you, even if you end up being the one to kill us, if it meant we got to stay by your side right till the very end… if you’d have us?” I nodded quickly not even having to think about it, almost flinging my head off my neck. “Yes!” I screamed, “yes, yes, I’d love that! Thank you, thank you!” I went to hug them, but cleared my throat and corrected myself, trying to stay in character.
The twins seemingly not caring about that immediately pulled me into a two-way hug. It felt like home. Like I finally had a purpose.
I will live for them. Them and REVENGE.