Unusual ending - chapter 24

[herumtreiber]

Title: Unusual ending - chapter 24
Chapter: The dream and the talk
Author:herumtreiber  
Genre: Slash, time travel, romance, adventure
Disclaimer:  I do not own Harry Potter or related characters. Nor do I make any money from the writing of these stories.
Rating: PG-13 for the chapter
Warnings: None
Epilogue compliant? No way!
Chapter length:  3600 words
Beta: None.
Summary: Old meets new. Harry walks all over Draco's heart, and when he realizes his mistakes he does the unforgivable so Draco takes him back. Time travel. During HBP, disregards Deathly Hallows - that means everyone's alive, except Sirius, but...

Table of contents



23. The wand of destiny

 

Harry tosses and turns in the soft bed in the room right next to Draco's. He feels confined, trapped, as he struggles to wake up.

In the dream, there's an awkward jumbling of images and sounds. Resigning himself for the moment, Harry jumps into the vision - for it feels like that, with the same otherworldliness.

Harry hears a voice he despises, a timbre he detests heartily. Swimming into the here and now of the vision, the shadows disappear. He sees everything from a height above his usual one.

Harry shudders, hearing the cackling voice of Bellatrix. "The Ickle Auror is not so powerful now, is he?"

He looks down and sees Moody's defiant face. The grizzled Auror is trapped in glowing magical chains, his left eye whirling madly. But there's a sneer on his face, a set to his jaws that is typical Moody stubbornness.

"Bloody Death Eater. You got my wand, what more do you want? Might as well kill me," growls Mad-Eye.

The vision shifts, and Harry looks down at a slender wooden chair on the corner of a rundown room, next to dusty boxes.

"Slughorn, what should we do with the recalcitrant Auror?" asks Bellatrix. Harry looks around for her, but it is in vain, for Bellatrix Lestrange is invisible in this strange vision.

What happens next almost convinces Harry that he is dreaming, for it has the same surreal quality as a nightmare. The chair grows bulkier as it elongates, changing shape and growing taller until Harry espies the figure of a portly man. Not quite as fat as Uncle Vernon, the man wipes his pate, shining with sweat.

The man, Slughorn, bows courteously to Bellatrix. He ambles towards a rickety table and picks up a wand that Harry recognises as Moody's. During the gruelling training course Mad-Eye has inflicted on Harry and his friends, that wand has been trained countless times on the Gryffindor.

Slughorn touches the wand reverently and finally walks to Bellatrix and hands it over.

"This wand holds the key to our master's final victory, Bellatrix."

Bellatrix snorts disdainfully. "It's a wand like any other. Don't see how it can defeat the bloody brat."

Slughorn rubs his hands with glee as he explains. "That's the beauty of it, Bellatrix. When the Dark Lord returns and holds this wand, that will make him the master of the most powerful wand ever made, the Elder wand."

The vision moves jerkily, and Harry peers outside a grimy window, towards a forest dimly lit by the waning moon.

"So you say, Horace." Bellatrix' voice sounds wistful, bereft of its usual madness. Harry sees a slim hand rubbing circles on the windowpane. "The Dark Lord will finally defeat Potter. He was so close to finding another path to immortality when the stupid brats dared to stand on his way."

Harry feels the ground shaking, as if someone jostles him. Bellatrix continues in a rising voice. "It's Draco's fault! The useless brat made this whole thing happen when he rescued the other blood traitors, and-" Bellatrix pauses, screaming the next words. "The traitor Snape killed our Lord!"

Then Harry watches Moody looking up at him with a careworn face, his magical eye strangely quiescent as the Auror snarls. "I'm not afraid of you, Death Eater!"

"Take him to the dungeons, Slughorn!" Bellatrix barks the order and the portly man hastens to obey.

Whilst Moody struggles to stand up, Slughorn says, "The potion is ready for the ritual, Bellatrix."

Slughorn and his prisoner move to the centre of the room and Slughorn pushes a box with his shoe. "The bone, the potion and-"

The portly man points to Harry, smiling obsequiously. "- The jewel our Auror friend found for us in Hogwarts."

Bellatrix cackles madly. "I don't feel smarter. Rowena Ravenclaw's diadem doesn't work!"

Slughorn smiles up at Harry, and the Gryffindor realises he is seeing things as if he were upon Lestrange's head - as if Harry was the diadem they're talking about.

Lestrange's next words chill Harry's heart and his surprise catapults him out of the vision. "The Horcrux will help us bring back the Dark Lord! He will avenge himself!"

Someone shakes Harry, shouting urgently, "Wake up! By Merlin, Harry, wake up or I'll call Weasley and Granger!"

Harry chokes back a sob whilst strong arms embrace him. He looks up at Draco's eyes, dimly lit by the candles on the night table. The Slytherin's face is full of concern as he wipes Harry's forehead.

"Are you alright?"

"I'm fine, Draco. Just hold me, ok?" Harry isn't sure if he had a particularly vivid dream or a vision. He wipes his forehead, squinting at his hand. There's no blood and no pain. Harry is almost tempted to call what he saw a jumbled nightmare born out of his worry about Moody. Yet it all fits together.

Draco climbs on the bed and spoons Harry, whispering in his ear, "Go back to sleep. I'll stay with you. Doesn't matter what mother said!"

Harry smiles. The sound of Draco's rhythmic breathing lulls him. Just before he falls asleep Harry has a disturbing thought. If what I saw is real, then that means Horcruxes do exist and bloody Voldemort is coming back.

---

The next morning Harry woke up in a bad mood. He wondered if what he saw was real or not. He felt a certain detachment regarding the vision, it didn't feel like the ones he had when Voldemort was alive.

Harry succinctly explained the vision after Draco asked him about the nightmare. When Harry described the fat man, Draco cringed. The Slytherin told Harry that his description fit Horace Slughorn, Voldemort's presumed spy who was not in Azkaban.

Harry's mood took a dive when he realised the vision was probably true.

During breakfast, Harry and Draco replied mostly with monosyllables to Ron, Hermione and Blaise.

Their friends took the Seekers' sullen mood in stride and when they finished eating, Hermione grabbed Ron's hand, towing him to the Manor library.

"Coming, Malfoy?" asked Hermione when she was at the door.

"In a while, Granger. Blaise and I are going to visit Pansy."

"We are?" Blaise frowned, putting down his goblet filled with pumpkin juice.

"Pansy will be mad if we don't go, Blaise." Draco lifted an eyebrow, looking inquiringly at his lover. Certainly Harry could do with a little distraction from the vision.

Blaise shrugged, smiling impishly at Weasley. "You heard the man, Ron. We'll join you later."

Hermione grabbed Ron's hand and seemingly yanked him out of the dining room, missing thus the entrance of the Headmaster.

Dumbledore's beard was unkempt and his hat was a dull grey, just like his thin robes.

Draco turned to Harry, asking in a low voice, "Want me to come with you, Harry?" The Slytherin didn't trust the Headmaster alone with Harry but he also knew how stubborn and independent the Gryffindor was.

Harry frowned at Dumbledore who was imposing on him and ordering him around. "No, I'll be fine, Draco. You go with Blaise." He rubbed his forehead, nursing a pounding headache. Harry felt exhausted because of the nightmare.

Draco nodded to Dumbledore on his way out, looking sharply at the Headmaster as if to warn him against pulling another stunt like the night Voldemort died.

On the way to the garden Dumbledore took out his wand, preparing to Apparate. Harry noticed that it appeared to be smoother. It lacked some knobs.

"Did you change wands, Headmaster?"

"I'm afraid so, my boy." Dumbledore smiled at a peacock that pecked his robes. He rummaged inside his pockets and took out a bag of birdseed. "My old wand is in Minerva's office. It doesn't respond to me anymore."

Dumbledore grabbed Harry's elbow and with a swish of his wand he Apparated out of the Manor.

---

Hermione was climbing the library ladder, squinting at the books in the Greek section.

"I could grab them for you, Mione."

"I know, Ron. I just want to browse around. I have to research the Ouroboros."

"Blimey, what is that?"

"The ring with the serpent in the old man's hand? I think it's Greek." Hermione held two books in her right hand as she carefully climbed down.

Hermione opened the book on the polished mahogany table. "Wonder how the old man got the ring."

Ron pulled out a chair for Hermione, and after she sat down, he leaned on the table. "Malfoy, you mean."

Hermione pointedly looked at the chair on the opposite side. "I don't know, maybe the old man is Harry?"

Ron snorted in disbelief whilst he grabbed a book and sat down. "That man mocked our house, calling us Gryffindorks! Harry wouldn't do that. "

"Ron, Harry's changed. He's more sarcastic, if you'd pay more attention to him." Hermione read a few lines of the book and then looked up at Ron, frowning. "Future Harry could've interfered with the timeline because he wanted to rekindle his love for Draco. You must admit he's always been obsessed about Malfoy."

Hermione turned her attention to the book. Half an hour passed without them hearing anything but the scratching sounds of her quill as she took notes.

Finally she stretched her arms, glaring at the wall of books opposite her. "I can't find a connection between the ring and the Golden Bough! I'm sure there's one!"

Ron closed the Quidditch book he'd been reading and reclined on the chair. "You'll find it, Mione. Besides if the old man is Harry, we've nothing to worry about."

Hermione bit the tip of her quill, lost in thought. She looked at Ron with a puzzled frown. "That name, Antares? If that's his name, he might be Malfoy's son - it's a typical pureblood name."

Ron rolled his eyes whilst the witch continued. "He might be Tonks' son from the future. He wouldn't need Polyjuice to change his appearance so he looks older. He might be a Metamorphmagus!"

Ron threw his hands in the air, glaring at his girlfriend. "You're barmy, Mione! The old man is clearly Malfoy! Next you'll be saying he is Harry's father, or Sirius. Perhaps even Remus!"

Hermione scribbled enthusiastically on the parchment, smiling at Weasley. "Great thinking, Ron! I hadn't considered Remus! That would explain the dark glasses."

Ron furrowed his brow, rubbing his stomach as he wondered what time it was. "Remus and glasses?"

"If he is Remus he would wear dark glasses so his distinctive amber eyes wouldn't betray him," explained Hermione whilst she drew diagrams on the parchment.

Ron stood up and walked to the library ladder, grabbing a book at random. "If he doesn't want us to see his eyes, maybe the old man is You-Know-Who!"

Hermione tutted and rolled her eyes. "Remember the nose, Ron!"

Weasley turned to look at Hermione who was bent over a huge book, casting a spell to translate it.

Ron smirked as he walked towards her. "A simple glamour would fix that."

Hermione stopped reading; she looked up to gaze at the windowpane and the trees beyond, shuddering. "Hope it's not him."

Heaving a sigh, Hermione returned to her research. "But if you are right, Ron, it's vital that we learn more!"

---

Harry felt the wrenching sensation associated with Apparition whilst a strong wind whipped his hair. He looked around in wonderment, for they were precariously nestled upon a big rock. The heavy clouds hid the sun as the sea raged below them.

The Gryffindor put up his hands to protect his face from the stinging drops of water coming from below.

The emotions that were simmering inside Harry - the anger and resentment at the Headmaster for the things he had done - threatened to overwhelm him.

Harry shook his head angrily. Why couldn't Dumbledore warn me? Why does he always keep information from me, things as simple as where we're going? Bloody hell, why are we here?

Unaware of Harry's anger, Dumbledore pointed to the rock wall opposite them and said in a sombre voice, "We must go to that cave, Harry. It is necessary to defeat Voldemort and ensure our survival."

Hearing Dumbledore talk so glibly about survival made Harry's blood boil. He distinctly remembered his godfather Sirius and the fact that Dumbledore kept information from him. This led directly to Sirius' death.

In his mind's eye, Harry recalled poignantly Sirius' mischievous wink when he was drinking a glass of burgundy at Grimmauld Place. The Weasleys bustling in the kitchen lent the moment a feeling of warmth and family. A golden memory of his beloved godfather, the mentor he lost because Dumbledore liked to keep things to himself.

Harry glared at the unsuspecting Dumbledore who was prattling about how important the cave was. "Tom Riddle knew about this place, and what he-"

Dumbledore couldn't finish because Harry shouted, "I don't care what Riddle did! He's dead!"

Harry shied away when Dumbledore tried to grab him. He lost his footing on the slippery rock.

Harry lurched forward and spread his legs to gain more purchase as he continued yelling at Dumbledore. "And you tried to keep me from killing him, freezing me! Are you barmy or what?"

"I did it for your own good, my boy." Dumbledore replied conciliatorily.

"No, you didn't. You always keep things from me. Thanks to you Sirius died! If Snape hadn't killed Voldemort, he might've killed me!"

Dumbledore's voice rose in panic when he realised his attempts to pacify the irate Gryffindor were failing. "Harry, I did it for the greater good. I did it for you."

Harry snorted angrily and crossed his arms. "You mean you did it for your pawn's sake. That's all I am to you, Dumbledore. A pawn in your chess game!"

Dumbledore continued pleading with his student. "Harry, I did it to protect you."

"How come you've never taught me any combat spells?" shouted Harry. "How come Moody had to teach them to me?"

Albus looked intently at Harry's angry face, noting his defensive stance and the way the Gryffindor scowled at him. He nervously fingered his beard and tried to touch the smooth polish of his wand to calm himself, but instead he touched his father's wand. Dumbledore fleetingly thought about the times he'd been wrong - when his sister died because he was fixated on Grellert Grindelwald.

With a defeated sigh, Albus realised that Harry could not be pushed around any longer. It would seem that Dumbledore's actions when he tried to protect Harry so he wouldn't be possessed by Voldemort had obviously incensed Harry.

Dumbledore desperately needed Harry's help. Scrimgeour was a thorn on his side. Albus was sure that Voldemort would return again and Alastor Moody's disappearance was very disturbing indeed.

Squaring his shoulders, Dumbledore decided the moment had come when he had to level with Harry if he wanted the boy's help.

Turning his back on the cave, Dumbledore grabbed Harry's hand and Apparated them to the train station in Hogsmeade.

---

Harry wrenched his hand away from Albus, shouting, "Couldn't even warn me we were about to Apparate, Dumbledore?"

Dumbledore pointed wearily to the dirt road. "Walk with me, Harry. You are right when you say I've kept you too long in the dark. Allow me to explain."

Harry glared at his shoes as he walked beside the Headmaster.

Dumbledore began in a soft voice. "Have you ever wondered how Voldemort managed to return from the dead?"

Harry shook his head, staring at the road ahead. "I reckon he used Dark magic. Doesn't matter now. He is dead for good, isn't he?"

Instead of answering, Dumbledore paused whilst he framed his thoughts. "I suspected Tom Riddle had a way with Dark Magic, but I didn't know the extent of Tom's mastery of the Dark Arts until recently."

"What did you learn, Headmaster?" Harry bent down to grab a pebble from the road, throwing it at a tree as Dumbledore gazed at the forest.

"There is a Dark ritual involving murder. It tears the soul apart." Dumbledore took tentative steps towards Harry but stopped when the Gryffindor stepped away from him and continued walking towards the school.

Harry nodded distractedly. "I reckon a murder's the worst thing a person can do."

"Indeed, Harry." Dumbledore answered softly. "If the soul of the Dark wizard breaks in pieces, he could put a part of it on a cursed object. That part of his soul would anchor him to this world. If he died, he would eventually return due to that piece of soul."

Harry crossed his arms and then rubbed his forehead wearily. This news was more than he could take, but he wasn't that surprised. Remus and Tonks had prepared him for this with their talk of Hindu beliefs about reincarnation.

The Gryffindor had used that knowledge to invent his 'Horcruxes' which apparently were all too real. Finally, Dumbledore's explanation cleared up the vision he'd had last night.

"You think Voldemort has done this and that's the reason he returned after my mother's sacrifice?"

"I'm sure of that, Harry. It's the only way he could do it. These cursed artefacts that carry a piece of his soul are the Horcruxes."

Hearing his suspicions confirmed Harry felt a shiver running through his spine. "So the Horcruxes really exist?"

Dumbledore fixed a stern gaze on Harry. "How did you learn about them, Harry?"

Harry didn't trust Dumbledore. This sudden change of heart seemed odd, after what the Headmaster had done. Besides Harry just couldn't tell the old man he came up with the idea on the spur of the moment.

Instead, Harry slyly said, "Trelawney once mentioned it."

Dumbledore asked eagerly, "Sybil uttered a new prophecy?"

"No, she mumbled something." Harry shrugged and pretended to study the birch in front of him. "Didn't hear very well but it wasn't a prophecy."

Dumbledore resumed walking. "Whatever the case may be, these Horcruxes do exist. Tom created several and hid them in places dear to him."

Dumbledore pointed to the south. "That cave we were going to visit is one of them."

Harry asked, "How many are there?"

"At least seven, Harry. Miss Weasley's diary was one of them" Dumbledore patted Harry's shoulder. "You destroyed that, my boy. The ring which you kept me from wearing is another one. Two of them are out of circulation."

"So Voldemort will return?"

"I'm afraid so."

Harry raised his arms, growling. "Since you are telling the truth; why haven't you trained me? How do you expect me to vanquish Voldemort?"

Dumbledore reflected on the long conversations he'd had with Moody and Severus. The Head of Slytherin was adamant that Harry should know the truth about the whole situation. Reflecting that his control of the Ministry was slipping due to Scrimgeour's reckless actions and afraid of the looming threat of Voldemort's return, Albus decided to tell the complete truth to Harry.

"Do you recall the end of the Prophecy, Harry?"

Harry replied by rote in a monotone voice. "The Dark Lord will mark him as his equal, but he will have power the Dark Lord knows not… and either must die at the hand of the other for neither can live while the other survives."

Dumbledore stopped at the gates of Hogwarts, looking kindly at his favourite pupil, trying to soften his words - knowing it was impossible to do so.

"When Voldemort killed your parents, Harry. I think he created a last Horcrux."

Harry shivered at Dumbledore's tired and defeated voice. "There's another object then."

Dumbledore shook his head; his voice old and weary when he replied, "No, Harry. The last Horcrux is you. That explains your Parseltongue ability and your connection with Tom."

Dumbledore took out his father's wand and waved it at the gates of Hogwarts, opening the wards so that he and Harry could enter.

Once they were safely inside, Albus swished his wand to recast the wards. When nothing happened, the Headmaster repeated the motions, muttering, "This wand doesn't work as well as the Elder one."

But Harry didn't hear Dumbledore; he was lost envisioning the awful truth. However much it hurt -no matter how painful - it rang true.

He was one of those bloody Horcruxes. The things he had created in his mind and spoken to his friends about, they were true.

But that wasn't the most shocking news of the day, for Dumbledore added ominously, "The way I interpret the Prophecy, and the only way I know the Horcrux inside you can be destroyed, Harry-"

Dumbledore put a hand on Harry's shoulders. The Gryffindor felt numb. As if he was outside reality, as if this wasn't really happening to him.

His time travel to the past had led him to this point in which Harry had to die in order to vanquish Voldemort. He wished he could remember the future he came from, but it was a distant blur. Harry couldn't recall how he'd vanquished Voldemort in the future, no matter how hard he tried.

After all that he had gone through - when he finally thought he was free of the bastard Voldemort - this piece of news utterly crushed Harry's hopes.

Dumbledore finished explaining. "The Horcrux in you can only be destroyed by Voldemort himself, according to the Prophecy: And either must die at the hand of the other, for neither can live while the other survives."

Albus gently squeezed Harry's shoulder. "My boy, I'm afraid you will have to allow Voldemort to kill you in order to get rid of the sliver of his evil soul that resides deep within you."

The trap is sprung - 1/2