Chapter 67- Sharp Edges
Severus rose at the crack of dawn, dressed in silence and then headed up to the Headmaster's tower to retrieve the man's pensieve. While Albus was more than happy to loan it to him, when he asked why it was needed, Severus balked at telling him the truth.
It occurred to him in that instant exactly what his position in this world had become - he was Harry's bondmate. That superseded all other bonds of loyalty. It was his duty to protect Harry at all cost, and while he didn't believe that the Headmaster was any threat to Harry, this was something that should ultimately remain private. The world needed to be able trust Harry absolutely, and Severus knew that Dumbledore believed that Harry was ultimately being guided by some greater force. Dumbledore's belief in that higher power was one of his main sources of strength. And Severus knew that Harry needed Dumbledore to be strong - needed that perhaps more than anything.
"The Dark Mark," Severus blurted out in lieu of an answer. When Albus frowned, Severus elaborated. "I wanted to review the memory of my Marking. I don't remember it clearly and I can't help but wonder if there was any hint of what it truly meant."
"Do you believe you might find a way to remove it?" Albus asked curiously.
Severus just shrugged. "I don't know. But I have to find out if it is a threat to Harry - if my bond to the Dark Lord is a danger to him." It was actually a good idea, Severus thought as he spoke the words. Perhaps there was something in the spell that created the Mark that would aid him in his search for knowledge.
Albus nodded, accepting his answer. "Good luck, my boy," he told him. "Let me know if you need anything."
Returning to his own quarters, Severus set up the pensieve on the coffee table in front of the fire. He also collected an unbreakable vial that could be used to store memories safely. He could only hope that this particular memory was retrievable - and that removing it would do what he prayed it would do.
He didn't have long to wait. Harry, dressed and ready for the school day, emerged from their bedroom a short time later. He gave Severus a rather vacant smile as he headed automatically toward the tea pot near the hearth. The emptiness in that smile spoke volumes to Severus - how could he have failed to see what Harry was going through yesterday? He cursed himself for not watching more closely.
"Harry, come here and sit down for a moment," Severus told him, motioning toward the couch in front of the coffee table where the pensieve was waiting. Though in the process of preparing his morning tea, Harry immediately abandoned the job and sat down on the couch. The fact that he didn't even hesitate to do so worried Severus. Harry had never been so agreeable.
Harry glanced briefly at the pensieve and blinked, momentarily looking thoughtful. But that expression faded back into the mild smile and he looked back up at Severus, waiting expectantly.
Frowning Severus sat down beside Harry. "Do you recognize this?" Severus asked, pointing at the stone pensieve. If nothing else the boy should be curious about it - the stone bowl had elaborate carvings all over it and radiated a sense of magic.
"It looks like Dumbledore's pensieve," Harry replied, as if it were a common item.
"Right," Severus nodded. At least the boy was familiar with the object, though he was uncertain when he might have learned what it was. "You know that it is meant for storing memories, right?"
Harry nodded.
"I want you to put a memory in it for me, Harry," Severus continued.
Harry blinked at him, but had no further reaction. Frustrated, Severus frowned. "Do you understand?"
"Yes, Severus," Harry nodded agreeably.
When he made no further move to do anything, Severus sighed and reached for Harry's left arm, pulling the boy's wand from the holster he wore beneath his shirt sleeve. He firmly placed the wand in Harry's right hand, noting the way the boy looked at it rather bemusedly. "Do you trust me, Harry?" Severus asked.
Harry nodded. "Of course, Severus."
"I want you to put a memory into the pensieve for me," Severus told him.
Harry's eyes flickered momentarily toward the stone bowl. "Why?"
Why? There was a loaded question if Severus had ever heard it. "You have a memory in your mind that is damaging you, Harry," he explained. "I want you to put it into the pensieve so that it can't hurt you any more."
"So I'll forget?" Harry asked, and then shook his head at the thought. Severus got the impression he wasn't shaking his head in denial, but because he was having difficulty focusing on the conversation.
"You won't forget," Severus told him. "You don't forget the memories that go into the pensieve. They always leave behind an impression - like an after image. You can remember what happened, but the clarity - the sharp edges of the memory - are gone."
When Harry said nothing further, Severus reached out and gently titled his chin upward, turning his face toward him. "I want you to do exactly as I say," he said firmly, holding Harry's gaze with his own. While he made no effort to push his way into Harry's mind as he had last night, he made certain to let his magic pulse just enough to capture Harry's attention. "I want you to think about the Quidditch Pitch and the moment that Elder Demon attacked."
A flicker of emotion crossed over Harry's face before fading again. It was enough to let Severus know that the appropriate memories had churned to the surface of his thoughts - even if only briefly. "You ran down the steps to meet it, to stop it. You raised your wand, you cast your spell - do you remember?"
"King's Banishment," Harry whispered softly.
"Yes," Severus nodded, fighting his own rising emotions at the memory in his own head. "In that moment you looked into that creature's eyes. Remember that Harry - remember that moment."
He saw it, the instant those memories surged to the surface of Harry's thoughts - the very memory his own mind was trying so hard to protect him from. Horror flooded those green eyes. Firmly taking hold of Harry's right hand, which was clenched knuckle-tight around his wand, Severus helped the boy raise his wand to his temple. There was no spell needed - in the presence of the pensieve the act of raising his wand to his temple was enough to trigger the necessary magic. The moment his wand made contact with the surface of his skin, the memory strand jumped to the tip.
Severus guided his wand downward to the pensieve, watching as the strand of memory drained from Harry's head - pulled like a frayed thread from a piece of cloth. Touching the wand to the pensieve, the memory drained down into the waiting bowl - but unlike most memories which were glowing silver strands of light, this memory was black. It sat in the bottom of the pensieve like some terrible shadow, swirling with blood-red eddies and currents.
For a moment Severus just stared at the pensive - he'd never seen such a thing. It almost looked alive - certainly exuded a living sense of dread.
"Is it supposed to be that color?" the sound of Harry's voice startled Severus - not because he had spoken, but because of the tone. Severus glanced up at him swiftly. Those green eyes were sharp, hard, and finally - finally - aware. Gone was the fog that had kept Harry muffled and suppressed for the last several days. But along with the fog had gone the unnatural calmness as well. From one moment to the next, Harry had gone from placid smiles to a face lined with stress and pain.
"I don't know," Severus confessed - he'd never seen a black memory, but then again he also didn't know a great deal about pensieves.
If anything Harry's face grew more tense, his lips thinning into a tight line as he nodded his head. He winced then, raising his hand to his temple and rubbing at it as if struck with sudden pain. Severus immediately jumped up from the couch and crossed the room to the sideboard. Opening one of the many drawers in the desk, he pulled out a small blue potion vial before returning to Harry's side and handing it to him. "For the headache," he explained.
Harry didn't even question it - a testament to how bad his headache must be. Rather he pulled out the stopper and downed the potion in one gulp before closing his eyes and bowing his head.
"Are you alright?" Severus asked in concern.
To his surprise, the boy chuckled, but there was nothing humorous about the sound. "I'm sixteen years old and I can't get through a day without taking some sort of potion. No, I don't think I'm okay."
Severus didn't know how to respond to that. He was right of course - there wasn't another student in the school who took as many potions as Harry did. While Severus had made certain that the Dreamless Sleep Draughts Harry took were non-addictive, it was not a good sign that he could barely sleep without them. At least now the boy sounded more like himself - that baffling calm facade was finally gone.
Harry opened his eyes and stared at the black shadow sitting in the pensieve. It was all Severus could do not to reach out to him, touch his shoulder or his hair or place his arm around his shoulder. Why was he so utterly incapable of offering comfort when it was something he so desperately wanted this young man to have?
"What do we do with it?" Harry asked tightly, watching the way the shadow moved in the bowl. The look of melancholy distaste on his face prompted Severus into action, and he pulled out his own wand, transferring the black memory strand to the unbreakable vial with the flick of his wrist. Another flick of his wand banished the memory vial to his office where he could dispose of it later.
Harry sighed heavily. "Thank you," he said, his voice hard with emotion. Severus knew he wasn't just being thanked for cleaning up the pensieve. "I couldn't breathe," the boy added. A muscle in his jaw twitched. "Couldn't think," he corrected.
"I should have seen it earlier," Severus began, berating himself once again for not noticing what was happening.
But Harry just shook his head. "When was there time?" he asked. "When is there ever any time?" He rubbed tiredly at his eyes. "This is what happened to him."
That last statement was spoken with such firm and awful conviction that it caught Severus completely off guard. "What?"
There was something raw and painful about Harry's gaze when he turned toward him. "Voldemort," he stated. "This is what happened to him. This is why he went mad."
It was a logical conclusion, but the implication behind it was alarming and Severus could only stare as Harry rose to his feet and began pacing back and forth across the room in agitation. "He summoned those creatures," Harry explained. "Over and over again - he summoned them. He spoke to them. They got inside his head and now he's insane. And now it's happening to me!"
"No!" Severus interrupted before Harry could continue. "You're fine now! The memory is gone. You're fine."
But Harry shook his head, still pacing with a manic energy. "You said it yourself - it leaves behind an afterimage. You think there will not be more of those things - more demons before this war is over? How many can I face before even the afterimage is sharp and clear?"
"That won't happen!" Severus growled, his body stiff with tension.
Harry turned sharply toward him, his gaze piercing in its directness. "You won't let it happen," the young man confirmed, and then swiftly crossed the room, sitting down beside Severus once again. "You won't let it happen," he repeated. "You won't let me hurt anyone I love."
It took only a moment for Severus to realize that Harry was not expressing some blind belief in Severus' ability to aid him, but was instead giving him an order. "Harry?" he breathed, finding himself momentarily speechless.
"Promise me, Severus!" Harry exclaimed.
Severus stared at him - just what exactly did he expect him to do? But that look of grim determination in those green eyes brought a horrified realization to Severus' heart. He shook his head in denial, but Harry cut off any protest he might have made. "You must promise me, Severus!"
"Damn it!" Severus snarled, and then rose to his feet, once again crossing to the side board and pulling out yet another potion - this time a gold-tinted bottle. Returning to Harry's side, he held it out. "Drink it!" he ordered, knowing the boy would recognize the Calming Draught. "Drink it!" he shouted again when Harry did not move immediately to take it.
Sighing, Harry took the vial from him and downed it. He took a deep breath afterwards, and some of the lines of stress faded from his face. "Perhaps you should just get me a tin of lemon drops," Harry said after a moment.
"Perhaps I should," Severus agreed, once again sitting beside him. "Now you listen to me," he scolded. "It is not in your nature to give up. And I won't have you starting now."
Harry nodded his head slowly in acceptance, but there was such weariness in his face that Severus' heart hurt. It was as if the boy finally understood the burdens that had been placed upon him.
"You will keep watch, Severus," he said softly. It was not an order this time, but rather a plea. When Severus did not immediately answer him, Harry reached out and caught hold of his wrist. "I'm too strong, too power not to be watched. I've seen the way everyone else looks at me, even Dumbledore, as if there is something divine guiding my actions. As if I can do no wrong. It's not right for anyone to have that kind of power. If I should stumble. . ."
"Then I will catch you," Severus replied simply, and it seemed as if that simple promise was enough. Harry closed his eyes and bowed his head, letting out a quiet sigh of relief. The boy's grip on his wrist eased for a moment as he slid his hand down, transferring his grip to Severus' hand.
At the contact Severus felt his heart quicken, his own fingers curling against Harry's palm. All the things he wanted to talk about, all the things that still stood unsaid between them, rose up in his mind. He still felt an overwhelming need to apologize for attacking Harry the other night - did the boy remember that he had tried to apologize - that he had seemingly forgiven him? Did he remember anything at all that had been said these last few days - had any of it meant anything under the circumstances? And what of the Heartstone? Did Harry remember that he wore it around his neck - had he even paused to wonder what such a thing might mean?
"Harry," he began, trying to find some way of beginning the dozen different conversations he felt they desperately needed to have. But his words were cut off by a firm knock at their portrait door and Severus bit back a curse of frustration at the interruption. Why was there never any time!
Frowning, he rose and went to answer the door, intent on getting rid of who ever decided to disturb them. Breakfast was only just starting in the Great Hall, and it was a bit early yet for visitors.
Albus, Remus and Sirius were waiting outside in the hallway, all three men dressed far differently than Severus would have expected on a Monday morning. While Albus was not wearing the plum-colored robes of a member of the Wizengamot, he had donned the silver medallion that showed his rank as the Chief Warlock of that council. And Sirius and Remus were dressed far more formally than they typically did - both men wearing new, well-tailored surcoats along with the armored hardened leather they might wear into battle. Sirius was also wearing a sword, slung from his belt in a gem-encrusted scabbard. Severus recognized the Black Crest upon the pommel.
Stepping aside, he let the three men into his quarters, guessing that something was up.
"The Ministry floos have been reopened," Albus explained, seeing the questioning look on both Severus' and Harry's faces. "The Wizengamot has requested your presence, Harry."
Severus felt his stomach churn at the thought. He knew of course that this was inevitable - they could not keep the rest of the world at bay indefinitely. But he didn't like the idea of facing such an unknown - and the Ministry had always been an unknown. Now with the chaos they'd recently endured, things were more uncertain than ever.
"I see," Harry sighed.
All four of them heard volumes in those two simple words. Sirius stepped toward his godson immediately. "It's your decision, Harry," he assured him. "Whatever you decide, we'll all back you."
A faint smile touched the boy's lips, but unlike the vapid smiles of yesterday this one was laced through with weariness. "So I am faced with a decision - to remain safely here in Hogwarts and openly defy my government, or to go to the Ministry and face the music."
Severus glanced at Albus, wondering what he thought they should do, but the old man was staring calming at Harry as if secure in the knowledge that whatever decision the boy made, it would be the right one. Severus felt his heart tightened - Harry had been right about the way the world now looked at him.
"Well," Harry replied after a moment of thought. "I guess if I'm going to face the music, it's time I learned how to dance."
Severus sighed. He could have guessed which choice the boy would make - he was still a Gryffindor after all. "If you're going to learn how to dance, we'll need to change our clothing first," Severus informed him. So much for a normal day of classes.
"Charlie Weasley will cover your classes, Severus," Albus replied happily, indicating that like Severus he too knew what decision Harry would ultimately make. Severus' just groaned - a Weasley, teaching potions. It really was the end of the world. He sighed regretfully - he supposed his conversation with Harry would have to wait a while longer.
An hour later the five of them along with Alrik, who wanted to check on his wife, flooed through to the Ministry of Magic. Like Sirius, both Severus and Alrik were armed with swords - the meetings ahead of them were too important for them to forgo such a formality, not to mention the fact that weapons might also prove to be a necessity. If Lucius Malfoy was issuing duels, who knew what they would yet face before them?
Much like the last time they had visited the Ministry, the floo corridor was crowded with people, dozens of red clad Aurors holding a path clear for them. Like before the moment the boy stepped free of the fireplace a mob of reporters began shouting questions at him as flash bulbs went off. But no sooner had the shouting started when ten Aurors, led by an enormously tall man, drew their wands, and struck the whole mob of reporters with a powerful silencing charm.
Severus recognized the tall man as as the Head of the Auror Corp - Maxwell Darmut. The older man turned a withering glare on the silenced mob. "I warned you," he shouted at them, his voice harsh and gruff. "Until you can conduct yourselves as proper journalist instead of mimicking the Muggle Paparazzi, you'll remain silenced."
The group of reporters looked outraged, though most of the Aurors looked highly amused. Severus had to admit to a great deal of amusement too - it wasn't so long ago that the reporters of their world behaved in a much more respectful manner. The Muggle habits they had picked up in recent years disgusted most Wizards.
"My apologies," Darmut said to all of them. He inclined his head rather formally to all of them, his gaze lingering briefly on Sirius Black. Black just stared back rather defiantly as if daring any of the Aurors present to say something against him. It occurred to Severus that bringing Black with them might have been tempting fate - it wasn't so much he thought any law could overturn Harry's declaration of innocence, but rather that Black would be unable to contain the resentment he must have felt at having been falsely imprisoned.
Darmut however quickly turned his attention back to Harry and Dumbledore. "If you follow me, I'll take you to the Wizengamot." That the head of the Auror Corp was acting as their personal escort spoke volumes to everyone there.
The Aurors closed ranks in around them, ushering them down the hall toward the elevators. As they walked, Severus saw Stark and Shacklebolt falling into step behind them, obviously intending to act as a rear guard if needed. Along with the reporters and the Aurors, hundred of other people - ministry workers and visitors - strained to get a glimpse of Harry as they passed down the hall. After Darmut's actions with the reporters, the crowd refrained from shouting, but loud murmurs and whispers followed them as they walked.
Darmut, Stark and Shacklebolt stepped into the elevator with them, and once the door slid shut Darmut turned his attention to Dumbledore. "I'm glad you're here, Albus," the tall man said. We're all anxious to have the rule of order restored according to the law books."
"How do thing stand?" Albus asked.
"As far as we known, Lucius Malfoy has removed ten people from the Wizengamot - all of them strong supporters of Fudge. Between Malfoy and the others who took council seats in duels, the others are afraid to speak out at all. They're all waiting for you to arrive."
"Anyone killed?" Albus asked with a frown.
"No," Darmut answered. "And that's surprising to all of us. Malfoy isn't known for his restraint."
"What about my wife?" Alrik asked in concern.
Darmut gave him a wry smile. "Lady Brand? She'd been here speaking on behalf of the Winter Lands and had been having a great deal of trouble with one of the Wizengamot members - Lord Marlot. Once the duels started she drew her wand and hexed Marlot unconscious because he insulted her - which gave her his seat by default. No one else has contested the point."
Alrik smirked at that and shot Severus an amused look. Severus just sighed - his sister had always been mild-tempered, but she had never reacted well to a direct insult.
"Regardless," Darmut continued. "Those that have lost their seats fully expect you, Albus, to restore them to their positions - though as I understand the rule of law, the duels are legal."
Albus nodded in agreement. "Lucius knows the law as well if not better than most people. The only way I can restore their positions would be by dueling Lucius and then reappointing them." There was no indication in the tone of his voice what he thought of that idea.
"They also need a formal vote on the arrest of Minister Fudge, as well as a vote on a interim Minister appointment - without a seated Minister, there is no direct chain of command to the Auror Corp which means that within ten days I will legally be required to either disband the Auror Corp or declare Martial Law."
Severus frowned at that, exchanging startled glances with his companions. He was not an expert on the law, but even he knew that either option would be unpleasant. Without the Auror Corp, the Wizengamot would lose their basis of power and be left utterly at the mercy of those members who could raise their own reinforcements. And the standing rules of Martial Law were rather harsh and archaic and would likely cause enough disruption that it too would leave them vulnerable to abuse.
"Why do they want me here?" Harry asked, startling them all. Darmut glanced at Harry in surprise, and the boy shrugged. "I can see why they summoned the Headmaster. They need him to regain order. But what have they summoned me for?"
Darmut glanced uncertainly over at Dumbledore who just nodded his head in response, urging the man to explain. "That's simple, Mr. Potter," Darmut replied. "They want your blessing. The Ministry of Magic has screwed up very badly - more so than any of you yet realize. Without your blessing, the government will lose the confidence of the people. And since it looks like we may be on the brink of some sort of demonic war, that would be a very bad thing indeed."