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Author: negasong Story: Harry Potter and the Pawn of the Past Rating: Teens Status: WIP Warning: Violence Reviews: 22 Words: 43,730
Severus Snape was awakened by an intense burning in his arm. The Dark Lord was summoning him. Every muscle in his body ached terribly. The Cruciatus Curse he'd received had been particularly prolonged and vindictive, and it would take a few days for his body to recover. The Dark Lord had been angry with him for killing Dumbledore. His exact words had been, "What good are you to me now that you can no longer spy on the Order, Severus? You have made yourself disposable and you have no one but yourself to blame." "And you thought being stuck teaching a bunch of talentless snotbags was a shit job," he thought to himself. His only consolation was that the Cruciatus Curse he had experienced was nothing compared to what the Dark Lord had done to Draco. If he had known what Voldemort had in store for the boy, he never would have returned with him. Snape was a good enough Occlumens that he could have hidden the boy somewhere on the continent and maintained ignorance of his whereabouts, something he still might do eventually, should the boy end up in danger of being killed. Voldemort had always been cruel and slow to forgive, but for the past year, he had been even more sadistic than usual. Snape had not been invited to be part of the cadre of Death Eaters that attacked Privet Drive in an attempt to kidnap Harry Potter. He had been left out of the loop, not as any sort of punishment, but because Voldemort knew that sending someone recovering from such a severe Cruciatus Curse could completely botch the mission. Bellatrix Lestrange, he noted, had gotten off with nothing more than a verbal warning for being the bonder of the Unbreakable Vow. If it had been last summer, she would have received the same punishment as him. "Not only is he becoming more sadistic, but his behavior has become increasingly erratic." Snape, of course, knew exactly why the Dark Lord was slowly coming unhinged, but sharing that particular piece of information would certainly send him to an early grave. He slowly got out of bed and dressed, his body protesting every step of the way. He quickly sucked down two glasses of elf-made wine to dull the throbbing pain that had invaded his body and then Disapparated from his home at Spinner's End. He was the last Death Eater to arrive at Castle Durmstrang. As usual, Crabbe and Goyle senior were guarding the entrance. "Not much else they're good for," Snape mused. "Don't have the intelligence of a flobberworm between them. Loyal as hell, though." As he entered the castle dungeon, he immediately noticed the absence of Avery and Nott. "Captured? Killed?" He would find out soon enough. His eyes met Draco's for a split second. The boy was glaring at him with utter hatred. He had not seen the boy since his punishment and had not had a chance to explain himself. It would have to wait. He was met with the shrill voice of the Dark Lord. "You're late, Severus. I was beginning to wonder whether you were going to show up at all." From the corner of his eye, he could see Bella smiling smugly. She obviously thought that she had replaced him as the Dark Lord's favorite. Snape allowed a small smile to cross his own face, causing her to change her expression to the scowl that he was all too familiar with. "Forgive me, my lord, my body has been... slow to respond lately." He hoped that volleying the responsibility for his lateness back onto the Dark Lord wasn't about to earn him another session with an Unforgivable Curse, but it was, in fact, the truth. He had gotten here as quickly as possible. The Dark Lord glared at him, but ultimately seemed satisfied with his answer. "Events have transpired this evening that were unforeseen," The Dark Lord continued. "Firstly, we lost two of our members to..." Voldemort seemed to be struggling to keep his temper in check, "a Muggle bathtub that apparently crushed their skulls." The disdain in his voice was palpable. "Well, that explains Avery and Nott." "Secondly, Bellatrix Lestrange has informed me that she has killed Harry Potter." The room was immediately filled with the murmuring of Death Eaters. "Silence!" The entire room shook as Voldemort said this last word. Snape knew immediately that Voldemort was about to dish out a string of Unforgivables, and furthermore, he knew exactly why. "I have confirmed Bella's story through Legilimency. Harry Potter is indeed deceased." A cheer went up among the Death Eaters, many of them leaving their positions to congratulate Bellatrix, who was grinning from ear to ear. Snape, however, knew better than to go anywhere near her, not that he would have wanted to anyway. "I wouldn't be smiling just yet, Bella," Snape thought to himself a split second before jets of red light flew from Voldemort's wand, sending the Death Eaters closest to Lestrange flying, knocking them unconscious. The rest of the Death Eaters scattered, scrambling to return to their positions in the semicircle around their leader. "I specifically told you I wanted him alive!" He was seething, staring straight at Bellatrix Lestrange, his eyes wild with hatred, his wand pointed at her heart. "Or," Snape supposed, "where her heart would be if the sadistic bitch had one." Bella began to stutter nervously, her voice cracked with a mixture of confusion and terror as she fell to her knees. "M- my l- lord! I... I th... thought you would be pleased! I couldn't! The Order was closing in! There was no time to get a hold of him! I had a clear shot! I thought it would please you!" "It would please me if for once you would follow my instructions!" he growled through clenched teeth. "Crucio!" Bellatrix Lestrange fell to the ground screaming. Snape had no pity for her as he watched her body bend like a bow until the only parts of her touching the ground were her heels and the crown of her head. Her bloodcurdling screams continued for several minutes as she began foaming at the mouth. Her head was twisting wildly from side to side, grinding itself into the flagstones of the dungeon floor, ripping away chunks of hair and layers of skin. The other Death Eaters in the room looked on in horror and confusion. They couldn't comprehend why their master was punishing Bella for getting rid of the only obstacle in his path to victory. Snape, however, knew exactly why Voldemort was so angry at this turn of events. Voldemort wanted to kill the boy himself – it was his dearest desire, more so even than ruling the world with an iron fist. Harry Potter had gotten the better of him many times over. It was his way of proving to the wizarding world, and to himself, that he was unstoppable. Severus also knew something that not even Voldemort was aware of, and that was that Harry Potter couldn't possibly be dead. There was only one person on the planet who could kill Harry Potter without dying himself, and that person was Voldemort. Eventually, Voldemort lifted the curse and Bellatrix collapsed in a heap, holding her knees to her chest, weeping softly as she rocked herself back and forth. The Dark Lord looked around the room in disgust. "Get out of my sight! All of you!" The frightened Death Eaters were quick to respond. Rodolphus picked his wife up as quickly as he could manage and ran from the room, cradling her in his arms. Snape turned to leave when Voldemort spoke again. "Severus." Snape turned to face his master. "Yes, my lord." "I want her healed as quickly as possible. There is work to be done and I will need every able body available – do not disappoint me." "Yes, my lord." And with that, Snape turned and exited the room. As it so happened, Snape had already brewed a potion that would rapidly heal the after effects of the Cruciatus Curse. He had been tempted to use it himself, but the unfortunate side effect of not being able to close your mind off while the potion helped your body heal was a risk too high for Snape to take, and giving it to Draco would almost certainly guarantee the boy's demise. He'd live with the pain. Snape Apparated home to retrieve the potion he'd need for Bellatrix. As much as it chafed him to help her, it was a slightly better option than facing the Dark Lord's wrath for the second time that week. As he stepped through the doorway, a jet of light hit him in the back. His body went completely rigid, and he fell through the threshold, landing flat on his face. After he heard the door close, a foot connected with his ribs, sending shockwaves of pain through his body. He was rolled onto his back and found himself looking up at Draco Malfoy. OOOOOOOOOOO Harry Potter was in hell. It had been so peaceful before. Nothing but blackness. Nothing to see, nothing to hear, nothing to worry about, just sweet, dreamless unconsciousness. At some point, he could briefly feel Voldemort's vague presence poking around, but Harry couldn't care less. Voldemort couldn't reach him here. Harry allowed that thought to comfort him as he sank deeper and deeper into the soothing darkness. He was yanked out of it suddenly as his heart began to palpitate wildly. He bolted upright as his body returned to consciousness. He was panting heavily and he couldn't focus on anything. Sweat was pouring from every part of his body, and within seconds, his pajamas were completely soaked through. There were people all around him. He felt like he knew them somehow, but he couldn't quite place them. He tried to speak to them, but the only thing coming out of his mouth was garbled gibberish. They were speaking back to him, but it didn't sound like language. Just random syllables that didn't make any sense. All he wanted to do was sleep, but they wouldn't let him. This awful woman kept sticking needles into his arm at regular intervals, and it seemed that the rest of them were watching him in shifts. Every time he started to doze off, they would shake him awake again and call out to that awful she-devil who would promptly stick another needle in his arm, which would send his heart racing again. The worst were the two that looked exactly alike – or was he seeing double? Instead of shaking him awake, they set off small explosions that not only brought him back to consciousness but brought needle woman running into the room. At one point, he had even tried to attack his captors in a futile bid for freedom. People had come from every direction and had tackled him, holding him fast to the bed. From that point on, he had been secured to the bed tightly with ropes, effectively preventing any means of escape. After what seemed like months of sleeplessness, Harry began sobbing violently. He couldn't take this anymore. He tried to communicate with the girl who was watching over him. He knew she wouldn't understand a word he was saying, but he had to try. She had frail, gossamer features and thick, fiery red hair, her alabaster face dotted with freckles. Harry would have said she was the most beautiful creature he had ever seen had she not been one of his tormentors. "Why are you doing this to me?" he choked through his sobs. "Why won't you let me sleep?" To his astonishment, the girl looked at him in shock. To his further surprise, she also began to cry, looking at him with what could only be described as pity and sorrow. With tears flowing down her now-reddened cheeks, she climbed into the bed next to him and buried her face in his chest. He could feel her body heaving uncontrollably next to his, his shirt wet with her tears. She lifted her head and looked into his eyes, stroking his cheek softly with her tiny fingers. She leaned in and kissed him on the mouth, her hot salty tears saturating his cheeks. It was the most intense thing he had ever felt in his life. Jolts of electricity shot upwards through his spine. "Come back to me, Harry, please come back to me," she pleaded through her tears. Harry's eyes widened in shock. He had understood her! She was talking to him and it was making sense! "Please help me!" he replied desperately. "If you don't let me sleep you're going to kill me!" "You can't sleep yet, Harry," she said through her tears, "I can't let you. I need you to come back to me, Harry. God, I love you so much!" She began sobbing in his arms again, and then did something quite unexpected. Harry watched in amazement as she pulled out a wooden rod roughly a foot long, and pointed it at the ropes that were fixing him to the bed. The next thing he knew, the ropes had vanished! She had freed him! Harry sat up, looking at the girl with trepidation, not quite knowing what to do next. The girl gently pulled him into her arms and began to kiss him passionately. He instinctively kissed her back, his tongue gently exploring her lips. She responded with a heavy sigh as her soft pink tongue darted into his mouth and began softly caressing his tongue in kind. Harry had no idea how long he had been kissing this beautiful angel, all he knew was that he never wanted it to end. Their lips parted and the girl began to softly kiss her way up to his earlobe, which she gingerly began to nibble. "Come back to me, Harry," she whispered, her hot breath entering his ear, making his entire body shudder with delight. "Oh god, Ginny," he moaned softly. The girl immediately stopped what she was doing and stared at him with a mixture of hope and longing. "Harry?" she cried, nearly hysterical, looking for any sign of recognition in his eyes. "Harry, please say something!" The world came crashing in on him like a train wreck. His memories flooded into him quicker than he could register. He looked around for a moment in shock, blinking his eyes rapidly, completely unaware of how he'd ended up in the sitting room. He focused on Ginny, who was for some reason in bed with him holding him in her arms. "Ginny, what are you doing? If your mother sees us she's going to go spare!" "Harry!" Ginny screamed as she pulled him into a bone-crushing hug. Harry could tell by the way she was shaking that she was crying. "What the hell is going on?" "Oh, thank Merlin, Harry! I was so scared you wouldn't come back!" she choked out through her tears. Her scream had brought everyone running into the living room like the cavalry, with Madam Pomfrey leading the charge. The Healer gently pulled Ginny away from him and proceeded to run her wand over his body. When she finished, she let out a sigh of relief. A huge smile appeared on her face as she faced everyone in the living room and nodded. "He's back." The living room erupted into ear splitting cheers. The twins were doing a jig in the middle of the room. Surprisingly, Mrs. Weasley joined them. Ron and Hermione rushed Harry's bed and practically dove on top of him. "Let the boy breathe, for Merlin's sake!" Poppy admonished. Ron looked as if the Chudley Cannons had just won the World Cup. Hermione was weeping tears of joy, and Ginny was gently smoothing his hair. "Have you all gone mental?" "Oh god, Harry!" Hermione sputtered, laughing and crying at the same time. "We weren't sure if you were going to make it." "You scared the crap out of us, mate" added Ron. "What are you talking about, Hermione?" Why was everyone acting so weird? After everyone settled down, Molly made a beeline to the kitchen to start preparing a huge 'welcome back' feast. She practically had to wrest Ginny physically from the room in order to get her to help. Madam Pomfrey gave Harry a potion to restore his strength and promised to check in on him the next day. Hermione, Ron, and the twins took seats around Harry's bed. Now that the atmosphere had calmed down, Harry noticed another empty bed in the living room. Seeing him looking at it caused everyone in the room to stir uncomfortably while casting sideways glances at each other. Harry, sensing the tension in the room, felt a feeling of dread creeping up on him. "Hermione, Ron, what's going on? Who was in that bed?" Hermione's face dropped. Harry could tell that she was trying to sugarcoat her answer. "A lot of terrible things have happened, Harry." Her eyes were fixed on him as she seemed to be struggling with how to start. Ron took her hand in his as if it would give her strength. She squeezed his hand, and with a sigh of resignation, plunged forward. "Tonks is dead, Harry," she said, looking away from him as if it would lessen the blow. Harry had not expected this. The only word he could manage to utter was, "How?" "At Privet Drive," Ron continued, "Bellatrix Lestrange used the Killing Curse." Bellatrix Lestrange. In his darkest fantasies, Harry had always managed to leave that particular death for Neville. He still planned on doing that, but he was going to make damn sure she suffered first. Harry's face grew dark. "So," Harry seethed, his voice dripping with sarcasm, "another person dead because of me – 'The Boy Who Should Have Never Lived.'" "Don't say that!" Hermione castigated. "Don't you dare ever say that again! Tonks is dead because of Voldemort, not because of you!" Fred immediately jumped into the fray before Harry could reply. "There would be a lot more dead people if it wasn't for you, Harry." "Like our father..." continued George. "And Ginny..." "Let's not forget Katie Bell..." "And the hundreds of people You-Know-Who would have killed if he hadn't spent thirteen years impersonating a light mist..." "Oh... and... Ron... although we're not particularly happy about that one..." "Alas, into everyone's life, a little rain must fall, brother of mine..." "And let us not overlook the financial juggernaut known as Weasleys' Wizard Wheezes..." "Which would never have gotten off the ground if not for the generosity of one Harry J. Potter..." "Which is, incidentally, the only reason we didn't hex you into next year for saving Ron's life." Harry tried desperately not to laugh and as a result snorted instead. He tried glaring at the twins but gave it up as a bad job. How were they so good at making someone not feel miserable? "All right, all right. Point taken." Harry knew they were right. He had started down the road of self-pity and none of his friends were going to tolerate it. "What about Professor Lupin?" he asked timidly. His biggest fear was that Remus would blame him for Tonks' death. Hermione knew what Harry was thinking and immediately headed him off. "He's devastated, obviously, Harry, but don't think for a second that he blames you for all of this. She didn't tell anyone what she was doing – not even him." Finally. Here was the crux of the matter at last. "What exactly did she do?" "Basically, she sacrificed herself," Ron answered bluntly. "From what Lupin could figure out, she impersonated you with the deliberate idea of letting Voldemort think that one of his Death Eaters had killed you when they were really killing her." "Why would she do that?" asked Harry, appalled. "Two reasons as far as anyone in the Order can tell. One, if you're dead, there's no reason to go after me or Hermione or Ginny. Two, if you're dead, he thinks he's unstoppable, which means that hopefully he'll get careless and really muck things up for himself." "Three, I can hunt for the Horcruxes in complete anonymity." "What the hell has been going on with me? Why am I in a hospital bed? Why were you all acting as if I almost died?" Hermione jumped in. "You did almost die. That Dreamless Sleep Potion she gave you was really the Draught of Living Death. She wanted to ensure that if Voldemort used Legilimency on you, it would confirm that you were really dead." "Merlin's bloody testicles!" Harry fumed. "She killed herself and almost killed me so that Voldemort might get careless? That's completely insane!" "Everyone else thinks so too, mate, even Lupin," Ron said, giving him a significant stare. "They think she knew something else that she wasn't letting on about, but none of us can figure out what it is." "Could Tonks have known about the Horcruxes? Did Dumbledore fill her in? Is that why she was stationed at Hogwarts? Specifically to protect me?" The more Harry rolled it around in his brain, the more he could see that it was the only thing that made sense. Voldemort thinking he was out of the way gave Harry a huge tactical advantage in tracking down the remaining Horcruxes. The other excuses for her self-sacrifice were utter bollocks. Harry could tell that Ron and Hermione had already come to the same conclusion, but he couldn't talk to them about anything until they were alone. "When did your mum say I could move back into your bedroom, Ron?" "She didn't, but I'm hoping for tonight. We can ask her at dinner." Fred and George immediately started in on their younger brother. "Is ickle Ronniekins in love with The Boy Who Lived?" "Want him all to your ickle self do you?" "I hear you can fall in love with someone who saves your life." "Be still my heart, Ron has finally found his soul mate." They were interrupted by Hermione. "I should say he has." She boldly leaned in and planted a passionate kiss on Ron's lips. She stared at the stunned twins, wordlessly defying them to say something. Then, without another word, she got up and strutted out of the living room wearing a particularly large smile. Ron turned a deep shade of crimson as the rest of the room stared at him open-mouthed. "I n... n... need to help mum with dinner," Ron stammered quickly. "See you in a bit, Harry." And with that, Ron was out of the room like a shot. The room was silent as Harry and the twins looked at each other incredulously, and then they simultaneously broke out in peals of laughter. "Did you see Ron's face?" "It was so red you could have fried an egg on it!" "I thought he was going to sink right through the floor!" "It's about bloody time those two got together." "Well, our dear brother has never been too quick on the uptake." After the laughter had died down, Harry asked, "Anything else I missed out on?" "Yeah!" Fred and George answered in unison. "Bill and Charlie are back!" "When?"
"Sorry about that, mate." added Fred. "I'm not," declared George. "He looked like he could have murdered us." "I tried to attack Charlie?" Harry had no recollection of the incident whatsoever. Now that he thought about it, he couldn't remember anything that had happened while under the influence of the potion. "Attack is a bit of an understatement. You were punching..." "Kicking..." "Biting..." "Screaming..." "Gave us quite a scare, you did..." "Although Charlie might want a word with you about the black eye you gave him." "At least it will match his best man's robes." Harry had completely forgotten about Bill and Fleur's wedding. The twins informed him that it would be at the Burrow. Bill had spent the last couple of weeks in France with Fleur's relatives, where two days ago, they had met up with Charlie, and the three of them had returned to England together. They reckoned that most of the Ministry would be there, seeing as Bill was an elite curse breaker for Gringott's, and Arthur was a Ministry employee. Harry knew better. "They're expecting an attack." That evening, Molly prepared a cornucopia of Harry's favorite foods, deciding that this would be his belated birthday dinner. "I'm sorry, dear; with everything that's happened, and the wedding coming up, we haven't had time to shop for presents." Molly Weasley genuinely looked upset. "No worries, Mrs. Weasley. Getting to spend time with my favorite family is present enough." Molly engulfed Harry in a hug that bordered on doing spinal damage. "Oh Harry! You are such a sweet boy!" she sniffed. Professor McGonagall joined them for supper, but the other Order members were too busy to attend. Harry was saddened that Remus Lupin had not shown. He desperately wanted to talk to him about everything that had happened. Mr. Weasley returned from work absolutely exhausted. After spending the day being grilled by Rufus Scrimgeour and his staff as they tried to spin damage control about the rumors of the Chosen One's demise, he was happy to have a hot meal greeting him. Arthur had, of course, lied to Scrimgeour, confirming that Harry Potter was dead. The Order had decided that Tonks' death should not be in vain, and that whatever tactical advantages they could gain from the ruse should be taken advantage of. Furthermore, there was not one of them that didn't believe there was something else to the picture that they didn't know about, and that Tonks (and Harry and Dumbledore) did. Scrimgeour, in turn, told the exact opposite lie to the Daily Prophet, insisting that Harry was alive and under Ministry protection in a location that could not be disclosed for reasons of security. He further stated that Harry was in what he described as advanced Auror training, so that when it came time for him to face Voldemort, he would have every possible advantage. Harry was indignant at Mr. Weasley's news. "So, Scrimgeour is finally using me as the Ministry poster boy now that I'm 'dead' and can't say anything to the contrary is that it?" he hissed acidly. "I'm afraid so," Arthur confirmed, cutting into his pork chop. "Rufus is concerned with public perception more than anything else." "Is there anyone working in that building besides you who isn't a self-centered, corrupt wanker?" Molly chided him for his foul mouth, and he apologized to her immediately. Arthur hesitated before speaking. "We all want the same thing, Harry. Scrimgeour may have different methods, but he wants to stop Voldemort as much as the rest of us." Harry was truly astonished at how far everyone had come as far as using Voldemort's name was concerned. However, that didn't stop him from vehemently disagreeing with Mr. Weasley. "With all due respect, Mr. Weasley, all I see is a man who wants power. How is he any different from Voldemort? How was Fudge any different from Voldemort? The only thing any of them care about is power." Harry knew it was a huge stretch, comparing Fudge and Scrimgeour to a homicidal terrorist, but he was trying to make a point. "The difference is that those men are not willing to do anything to attain power. They will not commit murder or rip families apart to attain power." "But they will lie won't they? They'll use people to achieve their ends. Like Scrimgeour is using me now." "Is lying any different than concealing the truth, Harry? Concealing the truth from people that only have your best interests at heart?" Both Mrs. Weasley and Professor McGonagall gasped at Arthur's words. Ron and Hermione traded anxious glances. "This is not a matter of trust, sir. You and Mrs. Weasley are the closest thing I've ever had to parents and I trust you both with my life. Even more than that, I love you more than you will ever know, but I made a promise to Dumbledore to keep certain things secret for very good reasons." "Dumbledore is dead, Harry. Things have changed." "That's where you're wrong, sir; nothing has changed." "Then all I can do is put my faith in you, Harry. Molly and I love you as if you were our own. I just pray you know what you're doing. But I would be remiss if I didn't make it clear that I don't like it when you keep secrets from us. Especially things that concern your welfare and the welfare of my children." "Enough politics at the dinner table," McGonagall interjected, looking stern. "This is supposed to be a birthday party, is it not?" Both Arthur and Harry took deep breaths and relaxed, attempting to enjoy the rest of their meal. Harry knew that Mr. Weasley's only concern was for their safety, but he was not going to be cajoled into breaking the promise he had made to Dumbledore, at least not until he had destroyed the damned things. "On to more important matters," she continued, pulling four envelopes from her robes and beaming from ear to ear. "The school governors have decided that Hogwarts shall remain open. Since I was coming here tonight, I thought I would deliver your letters in person. I look forward to seeing the four of you at the start of term." A torrent of pumpkin juice came shooting out of Ron's nose as his ears rapidly reddened. "He hasn't told his mother yet." Hermione became intensely interested in the tablecloth as Harry snapped his head in Ron's direction. Ginny looked confused, and the twins looked at each other sideways and grinned. "Oh, Ronald! Do be careful! That's wonderful news, Minerva. We'll have to plan a trip to Diagon Alley next week," Molly said brightly. "Thanks, Professor." Ron smiled weakly, avoiding Harry's stare. "See you in a few weeks then." After dessert, everyone retired to the living room with bottles of butterbeer. The mood had considerably lightened, with both Arthur and Harry apologizing to each other for the harsh words that had been uttered in the kitchen. The adults talked amongst themselves, sharing memories of happier times, while Ron was decimating all challengers at wizard's chess until there was no one left to play. Ginny, Harry noticed, had seemed withdrawn all evening. He had wanted to talk to her alone, but hadn't gotten the chance. As he was coming back from the loo, Fred and George locked their arms in his, lifted him up, and began walking him backwards. "C'mon, you two, put me down." "All in good time, ickle Harrykins..." "There's something we'd like to discuss with you first." "I really need to talk to Ginny." "She went to bed while you were relieving yourself..." "And since you have no other pressing engagements..." "You should be able to give us your undivided attention." When they were out of earshot, the twins set Harry down. "Okay, what?" "George, have my powers of deduction decreased with age or is ickle Harry on the patented Weasley six-year schooling plan?" "I think you might be right, brother of mine, and dragging Ron and Hermione down with him..." "Such a bad influence... I couldn't be prouder." "All right, guys, look," he whispered, "we're not going back, but that's all I can tell you. Just let Ron tell your parents when he's ready, okay?" "We'd love to help you, Harry..." "But despite our seemingly carefree exterior..." "We are businessmen at heart..." "The point my dear brother is trying to make, Harry..." "Is that it's going to cost you." Harry scowled at the twins and then groaned. "Fine – what's your price?" "We want to know why you're not going back," they said in unison. "I can't tell you that." "Don't say we didn't give you a chance. Mum?" "Shut up! Okay fine – I'll tell you, but not now. Later, in Ron's room, once everyone is asleep." "We're going to hold you to that, young master Potter." Harry scowled at the twins as they strode off. He wasn't sure what he was going to tell them. Hopefully he would have enough time to invent a decent lie. He returned to the living room to find everyone (except Fred and George of course) in varying states of sleepiness. "Definitely not enough time to make up a decent lie." Professor McGonagall bade the Weasleys a good evening before turning to Harry. "Would you be so kind as to see me to the door, Mr. Potter?" "Of course, Professor." When they were out of the living room, McGonagall leaned toward him. "I believe you will find two birthday presents on your bed, Mr. Potter. One from myself, and one from the headmaster." "Dumbledore's alive?" Harry gasped, his heart leaping. McGonagall blanched and closed her eyes as if chastising herself for her incredibly bad choice of words. "I'm sorry, Mr. Potter, no. Forgive me for my insensitivity. What I meant to say was that he left a letter for me in his office stating that there were certain belongings of his that he wanted me to pass on to you. I'm sure you will find them quite helpful. I would also like it if you, Mr. Weasley and Ms. Granger paid me a visit at Hogwarts sometime this week. I believe you at least owe me the chance to try to talk the three of you out of this ridiculous notion of dropping out." Harry was nonplussed. "How did you – " "Fred and George Weasley were not the only people paying attention at dinner. Good night, Mr. Potter. I'm sure I'll see you later this week." Harry shut the door behind her and headed back to the living room. After thanking Mr. and Mrs. Weasley for dinner, he, Ron and Hermione headed up the staircase, Harry telling them about the things that McGonagall had left for him. Sure enough, when they opened the door to Ron's room, two wrapped parcels were laying on Harry's bed. Harry was dying to find out what Dumbledore had left for him, but there was something he needed to discuss with his friends first. He opened the door to Ron's room and peeked out to make sure no one was listening. Then, gently closing it again, he turned to his friends. "We need to talk about Tonks. What she did was completely irrational, unless..." Hermione finished his sentence. "Unless she knew. Unless Dumbledore told her. But why would he? Why her?" "I don't know, Hermione. All I know is that she somehow managed to find me on the Hogwarts Express while I was under my cloak. I asked her how she found me, and her explanation seemed reasonable at the time. Now I'm not so sure. Later on last term, I bumped into her on the seventh floor. She claimed she was looking for Dumbledore, but she didn't really seem all that interested in actually finding him. I'm starting to wonder if she had been tailing me." "She was supposed to be guarding Hogwarts," Ron added, "but what if she was there specifically to guard you? Dumbledore was gone a lot. Maybe he wanted someone keeping an eye on you at all times." "Even if that's true, Ron," Hermione countered, "it still doesn't explain her actions. She as good as committed suicide, for Merlin's sake, and she put Harry into a coma. She had to have a reason, and I don't for a second believe that she did it to protect you, or Ginny, or me, nor do I believe she did it so that Voldemort might get careless. It doesn't make sense." "Unless she knew what I was up against," Harry said darkly. "Unless Dumbledore confided in her and set her the task of being my guardian. If Voldemort thinks I'm out of the way, I can track down and destroy the pieces of his soul with him being none the wiser. I can't come up with any other reason." "Neither can I," Hermione agreed, "and I think it's our job to make sure that she didn't die for nothing." "It's Wizard's Chess," Ron mumbled to himself. Harry and Hermione looked at each other, then at Ron, and simultaneously said, "What?" Ron looked up at them. "It's Wizard's Chess. Certain pieces have to be sacrificed in order to win the game. You can't win the game if you're trying to protect every single piece on the board. If we're right, and Dumbledore told her everything, that means she knew about the prophecy; she knew that Harry, the king, had to be protected at all costs. "She knew that by sacrificing herself while disguised as the king, Voldemort would assume that the king had been taken off the chessboard. He would assume that he's already won the game. He's not even playing anymore, and our side's king is invisible, free to move about the board at will, taking enemy pieces (of Voldemort's soul) out of play. "Furthermore, since Voldemort isn't even playing the game anymore, the 'minor' pieces still on the chessboard aren't important to him. I think he still plans to take them, but since they have no king to protect, it's no longer his first priority. I think she sacrificed herself for all the reasons that were brought up. It essentially convinced Voldemort that he doesn't even need to play the game anymore, but our side is still playing, and we're going to be able to take his most important pieces off the board. By the time he realizes they're gone..." Ron shook his head as he shrugged his shoulders. "Checkmate," Harry finished. "Ron," Hermione scolded, "that's horrible! It's so... Machiavellian." "It's strategy, Hermione. Tonks was playing to win." The three of them sat quietly for a moment, digesting their thoughts. There seemed to be nothing else to say. It was the only thing that made any sort of sense, and even if they were wrong about Tonks' reasons, they would not let her die in vain. Eventually, Harry looked down at the presents on his bed and opened the first, smaller package from McGonagall, which was quite obviously a book. The note attached to it said "Happy Birthday, Harry. I believe you will find this quite useful." Harry tore the paper away and read the title to his friends. "A Practical Guide to the Ancient Arte of Occlumency." Harry's disposition soured. He had had enough of Occlumency to last him a lifetime. He tossed it towards Hermione who was sitting on the other bed with Ron. "I hear the ending is terrible. Apparently the butler did it." Hermione looked at him admonishingly. "This could come in very handy, you know. Just because you had a bad time of it with Sn–" Harry bristled and Hermione quickly recovered. "– before, doesn't mean you'll have a bad time of it now." She began flipping through the pages, scanning its contents. "Actually, Harry, from what I can tell, this is a very simple, no-nonsense approach." Harry was barely listening to her as he ripped the wrapping off of the second parcel, which was much larger than the book and quite heavy. He sucked in a breath as the last of the paper fell away to reveal Dumbledore's Pensieve, complete with vials of memories that were marked and inventoried. With trembling hands, Harry retrieved the note from the bottom of the Pensieve and read: Dear Harry, If you are reading this missive, that can only mean that I have moved on to the next great adventure. There were many things I wanted to tell you that time simply did not permit me to, and for that I am truly sorry. I hope you can forgive me. It is my wish that you take possession of my valued Pensieve, as well as the memories that you and I have explored within it. I have left other memories for you to peruse at your leisure in the hopes that they will answer at least some of the questions you most assuredly have and explain some of the things I did not have time to explain myself. Finally, Harry, no matter what may have occurred or what you have seen, I implore you again to reevaluate someone whom we have disagreed about many times in the past. I remain always your friend, Albus Dumbledore. At first, Harry didn't notice the tears that were running down his face in hot streams. He was cut to the very core by the trust his former headmaster had shown that bastard right to the bitter end. And Snape had repaid that trust by murdering him in cold blood. Even if he didn't have the power to finish Voldemort, he promised himself that Snape would die...slowly. OOOOOOOOOOO Author's Note: Thanks to my beta, Laurabeth, who has been incredibly insightful and helpful – oh, and who is also a pleasure to work with. =======================
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