harry_18
But do you not think that now he is... gone, that you might be persuaded to come back to us?"
"That would depend on who replaced him." Snape said levelly. "For example if it were yourself leading the order, I would have no objection."
"I will not be leading the order." McGonagall shook her head. "I will have quite enough to do here at Hogwarts. The job of headmistress is enough for me. It has been hard enough to persuade parents to send their children to Hogwarts this year. I imagine next year may be a little easier but I am sure I will still have my hands full. And besides, I will need to find a new transfiguration teacher."
"Shacklebolt then." Snape waved a hand vaguely. "He has always been very capable."
"Kingsley Shacklebolt may very well be the only thing currently keeping the ministry from falling apart." Minerva smiled faintly. "He was the most senior auror to survive this debacle so I believe he will be ever more busy than I myself will be."
"There are other candidates." Snape was fully alert now. He could feel where this was going. "Alastor Moody."
"Too paranoid."
"Arthur Weasley."
"Has no combat or strategic experience."
"Natalie. Natalie Zhao. She is-"
"Very new to the order."
"Remus Lupin then, he has been with the order since-"
"Remus has grown unpredictable recently. Especially where Harry is concerned." Minerva fixed Snape with a level stare. "I believe we can agree that whoever should head the order should be someone Harry trusts. Someone like you."
"No."
"Someone who knows how the dark lord thinks."
"No."
"Severus listen to me." Minerva leant closer to him. "Do you not think we discussed all these things in amongst ourselves in the order?"
"If I had been there I would have had a few things to say!"
"Severus please." Minerva’s eyes dropped to the floor. "This past year Albus... well you yourself saw. I do not speak ill of the dead but he had become... tired. He was not the Dumbledore we all knew. He was not acting at his best."
Snape stayed silent. Not at his best was a horrific understatement if ever he heard one but there was no need to say so.
"In any case he was faltering. We all saw it, everyone in the order. But no one did anything about it. Except you." Minerva shook her head. "Perhaps we were all, how did you put it? ‘Trapped in the past.’ Except you."
"I... I cannot lead the order." Snape tried to make his voice not sound like that of a rat at bay. "I was a death eater, I fell into dark magic. A long time ago yes but some marks do not come out."
"Yours has."
"That is not what I meant!" Snape took a deep gulp of wine. "I am... tainted. Undeserving."
"Albus always said he did not deserve the prominence he was given."
"Do not compare me to-" Snape bit back the end of that angry sentence. There was no to take out his anger on the messenger. "I merely meant that I do not think it is safe to give me this kind of power."
"Albus also said that those who seek power are those least suited to wield it." Minerva held his eyes. "The corollary of that is that those who are suited to wield power are those who reject it."
"Do not quote at me."
"Severus, there is no one else who can do the job as well as you. No one else."
"No one else." Snape felt like chuckling. "That is what it always comes down to doesn‘t it? We all do what we must."
"I always have." Minerva stood. "So you will take the task?"
"Do I have a choice?"
"You do, but I already know how you will choose."
"You knew before you stepped through that door." Snape sneered. "I am trapped like a rabbit."
"Only by your own traps Severus." Minerva smiled and turned to the door.
"You know that I will do things differently than Dumbledore." Snape said suddenly. "There will be changes."
"I know, I look forward to them." McGonagall nodded, and left the room.
Snape rubbed his forehead. He should begin planning, there was much to do. No, he should not. Right now he had a promise to keep. Shedding his robe tiredly, he walked towards his bed.
*
"Harry... Harry open your eyes."
Harry woke from deep dreaming, the sparkling silver voice in his ears.
"I'm awake," Harry murmured, his eyes closed. "But I'm still in my orchard. I can smell the blossoms."
"You are still asleep, in St Mungos." Water rippling over shining stones. "I wanted to talk to you but you're on a great deal of medication. It was simpler for me to just come to you."
"And where are you?" Harry's lips twitched up into a smile.
"Sitting beside your bed."
Harry chuckled, and opened his eyes.
"Hello Thea."
"Hello Harry." The young seer was sitting cross legged under a tree in front of him, looking like the human image of serenity. Instead of her usual white robe she was wearing a simple brown dress, she seemed almost part of the forest. She looked... different, somehow different. It was not her face, she was still the same beautiful girl he had always known, or her eyes, mismatched as they were. Her silver hair was caught up into a long tail down her back, tied with blue ribbon. She looked exactly the same but there was something missing. Gone was the sense of ancientness, the feeling that the little soul in front of him had outlasted empires. She seemed... young, the same age as him give or take a year. Harry supposed she always had been. It did not take much to guess the reason for the change.
"You're not the oracle anymore." Harry guessed, guiltily.
"No, I'm not." Pythea smiled. "I was sacked."
"I'm sorry." Harry hung his head. "It was because you were helping me, wasn't it?"
"Yes, they finally caught on." Pythea reached forward and tilted Harry's chin up. "Don't feel guilty, not even for a moment. I was miserable there, almost a prisoner. I'm happy to be gone."
"You don't have to tell me that just to-"
"It is the truth."
"But it was your home." Harry sighed. "I'm going to feel guilty whatever you say, you can't stop me."
"Stubborn."
"Brat."
"I am not." Pythea smiled warmly. "Do you have any idea what you will do now? After you are released from hospital I mean."
"I... I have somewhere I want to go."
"The orphanage?"
"Hey, you reading my mind again?" Harry smiled mysteriously. "Don't I get any secrets?"
"I cannot read minds anymore Harry." Thea shook her head. "That came with being the oracle remember. I just know you."
"But you're still a seer, right?" Harry hesitated to ask.
"Oh yes, there are some things they cannot take away." Pythea nodded. "I am still a seer, and a very powerful one."
"Can you... can you tell me my future?" Harry asked suddenly.
"No. I can't." Pythea smiled and stood. "Do you want to go to the orphanage now?"
"Now?" Harry scratched his head. "Aren't I in hospital?"
"A short walk will not inconvenience a mighty hero like you too much." Pythea crooked an eyebrow mockingly.
"A short walk? We have to get to Ireland ya know."
"Then it is lucky that another thing they cannot take away is my international apparition license." Pythea held out her hand. "Just tell me where Harry. And we can go."
Harry reached out and took her hand.
*
"Ow." Harry's hand went to his stomach as pain flared there through the hospital sheets. "That really hurts."
"I told you it would." Pythea was sitting exactly where she said she was, at the side of his bed. "The knife was made with dark magic so the wound can't be magically healed. You'll have to let it knit together the old fashioned way. Is it too much? Do you wish to wait till tomorrow?"
"No no. It just surprised me is all." Harry slowly lowered his feet to the floor and gingerly stood. He had to hunch just a little to stop the skin of his stomach stretching painfully, but he could walk. No he couldn't. His leg was mangled too. Maybe he could hop... "Do you have my clothes somewhere? Oh wait my bag's right here. Can you turn so I can-"
Pythea cut him off with a wave of her hand. His hospital gown changed into a simple white t-shirt and trousers. Muggle enough to be getting on with. With another wave a carved wooden cane appeared in his hand. Obviously she did not think he was as healthy as said he was. Damn her for being right.
"Thank you." Harry smiled and picked up his bag from beside the bed. "Shall we go then?"
Pythea stepped up to him and wrapped her arms around his tender middle. This close Harry could smell her hair, like green grass and the sea. He was breathing faster, probably because of all the potions they had him on.
"Are you ready?" She asked.
"Yes." Harry shut his eyes and waited. And waited... He opened them again and cocked his head to one side. "Is there a problem?"
"You still haven't told me where we're going." Pythea clicked her tongue irritably. "Not being able to read peoples thoughts is going to take some getting used to."
"I'm sorry. I really am." Harry apologized again, earning him a level stare from the little seer, and told her their destination.
For the first time in his life Harry enjoyed an apparition. The walls of the void pressed him into Pythea, forcing them closer together. He could feel her breath on his cheek. He was almost disappointed when they dropped onto a small road in the countryside.
Harry stepped back and glanced around. There was no mistaking the orphanage, it was the only building there. At the center of it was a stately-home type of thing. He couldn't put a date to it, old was the best he could do. That was clearly the center of the complex but at some point the owners had felt a need to expand. The two blocks to either side of the main building took after the put-some-rectangular-concrete-blocks-in-a-vaguely-building-shape style of architecture. Around the whole place there was a high wall with barbed wire looped at the top.
Harry tried not to think that made it look like a prison. All schools had that these days.
With a careful hand on his stomach Harry walked up to the main reception. Pythea stopped there and sat down quietly on a bench.
"You're not coming in?" Harry asked.
"You go on ahead." Thea looked out over the countryside. "You should probably do this yourself."
"I can still do it myself with you there."
"Go inside Harry."
Harry grinned and turned towards the door. He took a deep breath, then winced at what that did to his stomach. He tried to calm the raging butterflies inside but couldn't. The only thing that gave him the will to push open the door was marauder rules. Follow through. No fear.
As he stepped into the dull entrance hall a secretary looked up from her desk, eying him quizzically.
"Is there a records department?" Harry asked uncertainly.
"Up the stairs first door on the left." The secretary looked back down at her papers.
Up the stairs. Of course. Harry labored up the steps, having to rest more than once before he reached the top. Out the window he could see the playground, full of children running about wildly. From inside the wall the place looked a lot nicer. All around the edge of the wall there were a series of children's paintings. Long running murals and swirls of color. It was almost pleasant, it looked like a normal school.
Harry managed to reach the first floor and took a few tired breaths. She wanted to let me to this by myself. Probably just didn't want to carry me up the bloody steps. Harry then realized that hunching over and breathing heavily in a building full of children could possibly be misinterpreted. He stood and walked forward towards the first door, his walking stick clattering against the floor. He knocked, politely.
"Come in."
Harry pushed the door open to see an elderly lady sitting in front of a computer, looking at him questioningly over her glasses.
"Hi, I used to live here. At the orphanage I mean." Harry stepped inside.
"Oh," The woman smiled. "Please have a seat." Harry gratefully sat, hung his stick over the back of the chair and worked out how to continue.
"I was wondering if I could get any records you have of me?"
"Do you have any identification?"
"Eh?"
"Passport? Drivers license, no you‘re too young for that. Your adoption certificate perhaps."
"Do I need one?" Harry’s hand moved to his pocket and mercifully found that Draco's wand was still there.
"We can‘t give records out to just anyone dear."
"Confundus." Harry whispered, then. "Can you make an exception?"
"Of... of course deary." The woman shook her head like she was trying to dislodge cobwebs then turned to her computer. "What name is it?"
"I don‘t have my name. Long story, but it happened on January twentieth, nine years ago." Harry wondered whether he would need another Confundus to blow past the ‘no name’ thing, but the woman seemed to take it in her stride.
"Everything‘s on computers now. It‘s very high tech." The woman pursed her lips as she clacked away at her keyboard. "When I started here we had rooms and rooms of file boxes. Would have taken ages to find a record like yours."
When would she have started here? Harry wondered. Was it possible she might have been there back when he was?
"Here we are." The woman squinted at the record for a moment then let out a throaty chuckle. "Oh yes, I remember."
"You... you do?" Harry felt his breath quicken. "You remember me?"
"How could I forget?" She turned to him with a motherly smile. "Everyone here has a constant reminder of your stay with us."
"Wh... what?"
"See the wall over there?" She gestured out the window. "See the barbed wire? You may think it‘s to keep folks out, but it was originally put up to keep you in. You kept clambering over the wall."
"Really." Harry didn’t dare feel. Didn’t dare hope. A living connection to his stolen past like this had been too much to ask. "I must have caused you all a lot of trouble."
"Oh you were a scamp you were." The old woman smiled fondly. "I still remember what you said to me the day the wire went up."
"What?" Harry swallowed. "What did I say?"
"Well I said to you ‘You know that wire‘s been put up just to keep you in.’ And you turned to me, cheeky as a monkey, and told me ‘That‘s good Miss, ‘cos the wall wasn‘t much of a challenge anymore.’"
Harry’s heart broke and he fell into his hands. He felt tears blooming in his eyes. He hadn’t known what to expect when he’d come here, but he had never expected this. He had never expected proof. Proof that he wasn’t some Frankenstein monster, proof that he wasn’t a bad copy of James Potter. He was, and had always been, him. Arrogant, cocky, unrespectful of authority and filled with wanderlust. He. Was. Him.
"Dear are you alright?" The old woman sounded concerned. "Do you want a tissue?"
"And you tell me..." Harry swallowed and tried again. "Can you tell me my name?"
"Oh, I‘m afraid you came to us without a name." She looked back at her computer screen. "We gave you the surname Malyn, after the orphanage. Which is a traditional here. And for the first name we had to make that up. So we called you Jack."
Jack...
Jack Match.
Jack Baltzegaurd.
Jack Shakey.
Jack Caiman.
All those people, all those people he’d disguised himself as... Jack.
His constant alias. The name that had always come to his lips when he knew he couldn’t say ‘Harry’. It had been a memory, a memory of the first real name he had. Not given to him by his parents sure, and apparently not magically binding. But a name. He still felt more like Harry, it was still the name that came first to his lips but... it was like that hollow core inside him was filling. Filling with parts of a life he had though he had no memory of. It felt so good.
"I suppose you‘ll want to go down and see it." The old woman was handing him a printed copy in a folder. Harry assumed it was his file. She nodded towards the back of the orphanage.
"See it?"
"It was always your favorite place." The old woman smiled. "It was where we usually found you when you managed to sneak off."
Suddenly Harry knew, and with the knowledge came the unbearable need to see if it was true. Harry stood suddenly.
"Yes, I do want to see it. Thank you." Harry smiled thorough teary eyes. "Thank you. Thank you so much."
"My pleasure Jack."
Harry turned and hobbled from the room, it was only his aching wound and walking stick that stopped him from running. He reached the bottom of the stairs and pushed out the door. Pythea was already standing, like she’d known he was coming.
"We need to go that... that way." Harry was breathing so hard all he could do was point vaguely.
"Lead the way."
Harry set off, taking them round to the back of the buildings. He could see it now, down the slope a little. He stumbled down and stopped just before he reached it, just before he went beneath the shade of the apple trees. The little round orchard of apple trees.
"My god." Pythea had her hand to her mouth in shock. "It‘s real."
"It was a memory." Harry breathed, reaching out a hand to touch a branch. "It was a memory. I kept having this dream where I was stuck in Godrics Hollow. But that place felt all weird, but if I could break out and reach the orchard I felt safe. Felt real."
"I though it was a creation of your mind, I never thought..."
"Neither did I." Harry stepped beneath the branches and walked into the center of the grove. He set his back against the tree and slid down, resting on the ground. Pythea sat down next to him, resting her shoulder against his.
"It‘s very peaceful here." Was all she said.
Harry didn’t trust himself to speak. Couldn’t speak. There were no words. They sat there for the longest time, the last summer breeze filling running past them and rustling the leaves above their heads. Eventually, after who knew how long, Harry spoke.
"Thea?"
"Hm?" She murmured. Had she almost fallen asleep. Harry looked over into her beautiful mismatched eyes.
"Why did you trust me? Right at the beginning?"
"I told you, because you are good and-"
"But right at the beginning you couldn‘t have known all that." Harry pointed out. "Back then I was a stranger."
"You were never a stranger." Thea smiled sadly. "Do you know how they choose the next oracle Harry? They go around to all the magical households in Greece, looking for children with the inner eye. If they find one with enough power, with power enough to be Pythea, they take them back to the temple."
"Take them from their parents?" Harry asked, shocked.
"The parents have a choice of course, but who would dare say no." Pythea huddled up against Harry’s side. "I was three, but I remember it well, another curse my gift gives me. My name wasn‘t Pythea then, but I was told that I could never use my old name, never speak it ever again. One day in art class I signed one of my paintings with the old name, just a little mistake. The fury they had at me that day... they burnt my picture, in front of my eyes. I never used the old name again. After I finished my training I was allowed to go back and visit my parents. I went back to my old house. They were very... polite. They acted exactly the way I would expect someone to act towards The Pythea. When I tried to act like their daughter, they looked at me like I had done something wrong. Even to them I was supposed to be The Pythea... even to them."
"Thea I never knew." Harry put an arm around her (What the hell do I do? She’s not crying, do I offer her a tissue anyway? Oh god what do I say?) "It must have been heart-wrenching. I can‘t imagine-"
"You can imagine. Not that you have to." Pythea smiled up at him. "That‘s why we were never strangers. Because we‘re the same, both orphaned. Both with our true identities taken from us. Both shoved into rolls and names we never wanted."
"Both forced to accept them." Harry nodded. "Yeah, we were never strangers. We’re the same, we‘re like... rootless. We have no roots. No past."
"Did you find out your name?" Pythea asked suddenly.
"I found out a name." Harry shrugged. "But I think I‘ll keep going with Harry, I‘ve carried it longer than the other now anyway."
"They took away who we are." She murmured.
"They took away our names." Harry corrected, brushing his hand against Pythea’s face. "They can‘t take away who we are. The names don‘t matter so much, you can call me Harry or Jack or Bob it doesn’t matter. I know who I am."
"I wish I had your certainty."
"You do have it." Harry smiled. "Because I know who you are. It‘s got nothing to do with your name. You‘re just you. Any you‘re perfect."
"Harry..." Pythea lifted up, little glistening tears in the corners of her eyes, and kissed him lightly on the cheek. "Thank you."
Harry didn’t really know what to do, other than to blush. A moment later Pythea seemed to realize something.
"Harry, did you just beat me at being profound?"
"Had to happen eventually." Harry grinned cheekily.
"I‘ll get you next time."
"You‘re on."
Pythea smiled, lighting up her face. Harry bit his lip and asked.
"So, you‘re going to be staying in Britain then? For now?"
"I think so. Are you?"
"Yeah, probably." Harry rested his hands behind his head. "Go back to Hogwarts maybe. I don‘t know if I missed the O.W.L.S."
"They begin next week if I remember correctly."
"A week, think that‘s enough time?" Harry scratched his head.
"Since it‘s all the revision you would do anyway, I‘d say, yes. And after that?"
"Dunno... Stay in the country probably. I could do with a nice peaceful holiday."
"Harry you wouldn‘t know what to do with a peaceful holiday."
"I‘d know exactly what to do." Harry winked. "As soon as I got there it would get a lot less peaceful, but a lot more fun."
Crystal laughter filled the grove, and lit up the leaves with light.
*
Bellatrix Lestrange bowed over her master’s bed and cried, heedless of her tears staining the sheets. She had done all she could, used every facet of her art, but her lord still barely breathed. His skin was dead white and only the dark magic she had woven in his chest kept him alive. He was so weak, not even conscious. It was terrible to see him like this, terrible to see him brought so low. Better if he had truly died, then he could have risen up again in glory. Instead he was trapped in this prison of flesh. Better dead than to lie on this narrow cot in a tiny room, not even fit for a hiding place. But she had to do what she could. She was the last, the last loyal death eater.
"I am all he has." Bellatrix whimpered.
"That is not the case."
Bella whirled, her wand snaking out. When she saw who it was she barely relaxed.
"You!" She spat with venom. "Barty Crouch, you dare slink back after abandoning our lord!"
"I did not abandon him." The unruffled boy stepped from the shadows, carrying a package under his arm. "I was doing our lords good work."
"For a full year?"
"It did take longer than anticipated... but it has been done. And in the nick of time too." The pale wizard strode over to the dark lord’s sickbed and knelt beside it. "I am your servant, master, and I have done your bidding. Do not worry lord, I can make you strong again. Stronger than ever. With this... we can rise again, the death eaters can rise again. The earth will tremble master, tremble in fear."
Barty Crouch reached into his package and pulled something out. Bellatrix felt her jaw drop.
"We can be stronger than ever master." Barty’s face in the shadows was terrifying. "Stronger than ever."
________________________________________
Ye gods that was hard to write right. Or... right write. Write write... some combination of those words anyway. It's been a roller coaster I think you'll agree, and the single most massive twist of the entire fic was finally revealed. Hope you liked it. People who were waiting to the end of this book to review... your time has come.
I've already started writing the next book and It ain't going well. I didn't do my usual thing of writing myself into a corner. Instead I plotted the book out in advance and wrote to it. Unfortunately I got a few chapters in and realized that it sucked. The plot made logical sense and all, no plot-holes, there was nothing tripping me up, no writers block, I just realized that the plot I had mapped out was a bit [word I can't add without mature rating] really. I had to go back and rework the thing. Positive upshot: The story is a lot stronger now I think. Negative upshot: I have to throw away a significant part of what I've already written. Ah well, such is life.
Anyway *clears throat* the next story is on it's way. Our Harry has finally found out who he really is and begins walking his own path. Too bad that path is as deadly as the last. A new enemy rises, an old one lingers and a mysterious assassin is out for Harry's blood. With Harry still injured from his confrontation in the department of mysteries he can't face these challenges head on. He may even have to start using his brain...
Mysteries abound in the next book of the series Harry Potter, The Stone and The Scorpion!
________________________________________
This story was taken from one these sites, check them out to find more sex stories:
https://www.diecastaircraftforum.com/showthread.php?p=2941997#post2941997
https://www.dieseltruckresource.com/forums/4th-gen-ram-non-drivetrain-2010-up-202/cooling-system-problems-335942/#post3386888
https://www.digitalstorm.com/forums/asus-strix-x570i-only-post-with-1-stick-of-ram-tidf57244-pidf406632/#406632
https://forum.dirt.ru/showthread.php?t=373623
https://www.disco4.com/forum/post2346460.html#2346460
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