He felt numb. The hand on his chest didn't even feel like it was there, and the same could be said about the flashes of tens of cameras as he lay there, head in the lap of his headmaster who looked straight ahead with a concerned frown.
It was his fault. Everything was his fault. Loyal Ron. Genius Hermione. Fiery Ginny. Brave Neville. Sincere Luna. And him.
His eyes closed as tears leaked out, and he could do nothing to stop them.
Just what had he been thinking!? What had they been thinking!? Nothing, that's what! How could he even imagine that six children who had taken their OWLs barely a few hours ago could take on some of the most dangerous criminals their world had to offer!?
It was his fault that they had died. Everything was his fault.
Harry had cried his heart out when it had happened. He remembered the sight of life leaving their eyes as they slumped against their captors who held them at wand point inside that accursed room. Helpless, he had only sat on his knees as the battle ensued in front of him, his eyes unseeing, his limbs frozen.
Guilt raged through his very being at the realization that he had led to the deaths of his best friends. That guilt induced rage through every fiber of his being, and Harry went berserk. Every vicious spell he had ever heard of left his wand, even though he had never cast any of them before. The Death Eaters and members of the Order alike stared in abject horror as Harry delivered righteous judgment upon the scum of the society.
Not that it was enough to prevent the death of the man he had considered the closest thing to a father.
In his rage-induced haze, he had lost all sense of his surroundings, and that had been the undoing.
The face of Sirius, as he stared back at him serenely before it vanished beyond that veil, forced a gut-wrenching cry from his parched throat, and his rage intensified. Harry tore through the ministry atrium, uncaring of the numerous cries behind him and a malevolent killing curse struck Bellatrix right on her back. The maniacal witch went limp, and barely a few seconds later, so did Harry.
When he came back to his senses, it was to the sight of a menacing pair of crimson eyes staring at him in abject shock.
-Break-
Albus Dumbledore stared at the broken boy in front of him with profound sadness. He had just finished telling Harry everything that had transpired in the ministry after he had killed Bellatrix.
Dumbledore sighed to himself at the realization that Harry had killed seven members of Tom's inner circle. Ashen was the word he would use to describe the expression on the boy's face.
The boy didn't react when he told him that the reason he had passed out after killing Bellatrix was that Tom had hit him with another killing curse. He didn't even flinch when he told him about the prophecy. There was no reaction at all, and that concerned Dumbledore more than he was willing to admit. Rage was an emotion that let one vent everything out, and what followed was calmness and a sense of peace. Apathy did not help anyone, and that concerned him, for Harry looked more apathetic than anyone he had ever seen. Not even Gellert had looked like this when he had lost to him.
Dumbledore could understand everything Harry was feeling. The weight of the guilt that Harry must be feeling and the knowledge that he killed so many individuals were things he would not wish on anyone, and he wondered how much Harry could take. He hoped, for the sake of himself and everyone else who had any semblance of hope from him that Harry would not let this burden destroy him.
"Harry?" Dumbledore probed gently. The boy looked up, and Albus flinched. For those emeralds were glowing with life no more. Instead, Harry looked completely hollow. They said eyes were the mirror of the soul. Never had those words been truer.
Harry's rage, his guilt, and his scorn had cooled down, and what remained was nothingness. He could feel it simmering beneath the surface, but he found that he had firm control over his emotions for the first time. Looking at Dumbledore, he stood up.
"I would like to go to bed, headmaster. A lot has happened tonight and I would prefer to be alone so I can process everything."
Dumbledore frowned but did not make a move to stop the boy who had already turned around and was walking away. The sound of his office door getting shut prompted a sigh from the aged headmaster who looked at his faithful familiar and stroked its feathers softly.
"I fear what happened tonight has changed him forever, Fawkes," he whispered. The phoenix trilled a mournful tone and Dumbledore sighed again.
-Break-
Harry's feet carried him across the seventh floor to the Room of Requirement. This late at night, he had no intention of going to the Gryffindor Tower. He didn't think he would be able to see the empty beds of Ron and Neville, not with these wounds still so raw.
The door materialized in front of him, and Harry entered quickly. It was a simple room with a bed and nothing else. He quickly undressed and got under the covers, unseeing eyes staring blankly at the ceiling where stars twinkled in the clear, dark sky.
Numbly, he remembered all the moments he had spent with his friends and his godfather. The time he had first met Ron and Hermione, their adventures together, Neville confronting them in the first year. Ginny's reaction to seeing him in the burrow and what transpired during the year. The time travel to save Sirius. The feeling of happiness when Sirius asked him to live with him. The not-so-pleasant fourth year when he had his first falling out with his friends, and how Ginny and Neville had filled that void. Their reunion when they had sorted their issues out. The time he had spent with his godfather in Grimmauld Place and the challenges he had tackled with all five of his friends during the year. How Luna, who he had met this year, had quickly become such an integral part of their small group.
The floodgates opened, and Harry didn't even try to stop them.
"I'm sorry," he managed between cries, clutching his face harshly as another sob escaped his lips. "I'm so sorry! You died because of me! I'm so sorry!"
Harry kept apologizing profusely, crying his heart out until he could do nothing but lay on the bed, silent tears trickling down his face and onto the pillow under his head.
It was only when the ceiling above transformed into the early morning sky that Harry blinked his eyes open and looked around. The events of the evening prior crashed through his mind and Harry had to stifle a gasp. Wide-eyed, he looked around before burying his head in his hands.
Two hours later, he emerged from the Room of Requirement. He had eaten inside, having no intention of seeing anyone, and under his Invisibility Cloak, he made his way over to Gryffindor Tower. The train would be leaving in a few hours, and he wanted to get his belongings before everyone came back from breakfast.
The door to the common room swung open and Harry entered before he quickly trekked upstairs and burst into his dormitory. Pointedly ignoring Ron and Neville's beds, he flicked his wand and watched as all his belongings packed themselves inside his trunk. Shrinking it, he pocketed it before turning around.
Instantly, he came face to face with the headmaster, who looked knowingly at where he was standing. Sighing, Harry took the cloak off and looked at the old wizard expectantly.
"A few people want to see you," Dumbledore intoned softly, a frown on his face. Harry looked down.
"I do not feel like seeing anyone, headmaster," Harry whispered. Dumbledore sighed.
"They are in the common room waiting for you. I have made sure no student comes. Please, Harry," the headmaster insisted. Harry looked at him with a frown as he turned around to walk away. Sighing, he walked behind the headmaster.
He froze at the spot when he entered the common room and saw who it was. Professor McGonagall was standing to the side with all the other heads of house and Dumbledore. However, it was the other group of witches and wizards who he was shocked to see.
A tear escaped his eye as he looked down, unable to meet their eyes.
"I'm sorry," he whispered.
A choked sob made him look up, and Harry had barely a moment to react before he was engulfed by a pair of strong arms that had hugged him so many times over the years.
"Hush dear, you have nothing to be sorry for," Mrs. Weasley said through tears as she pulled back and wiped his face. Harry looked down.
"I rushed in without thinking, and that got them… It's all my fault," he whispered miserably. He felt a firm hand clasp his shoulder and looked up to see Mr. Weasley looking at him firmly.
"Never believe that it's your fault. You did not make them do it, Harry. It was their decision. Rushing in without thinking was your mistake, there is no doubt about that. But what happened to my children and the others is no fault of yours."
Harry stared at the ground morosely as they moved back, but not before hugging him warmly. Harry felt so undeserving of this.
"My Neville was always a scared little boy, Mr. Potter," an old witch dressed in traditional robes began as she walked over, and Harry looked into her eyes. It seemed she had lost all the will to live and was waiting for death to take her into its embrace. "I always wanted him to grow up strong, as strong and capable as my Frank was."
Harry stared at her, wondering where this was going. Madam Longbottom sighed.
"I know it makes me sound heartless, but I feel proud to say that my Neville died in battle like a true warrior. I will mourn him, Mr. Potter, but more than that, I will revere the brave man my little Neville became. He told me how you had been helping him slowly come out of his shell, and how much he respects you. For that, you have my gratitude. Please do not let his sacrifice go to waste, Mr. Potter."
Harry stared at the woman with wide eyes as she walked away without a second glance. His eyes raked over the remaining people assembled. Each of his professors gave him looks of encouragement, and even Snape was giving him a look devoid of any disdain.
A small clap sounded from the side, and they turned around. A wizard clad in dark robes stood there. His face was covered and no one could make out who he truly was.
"Enough of this sentimental crap," the wizard hissed softly and lowered his hood. Harry heard several gasps around the common room. Confused, he stared at the old man. He looked as old as McGonagall with white hair that came to his shoulders in curls and a thick white goatee. With high cheekbones and grey eyes, the man looked the epitome of the patriarch of a pureblood house.
"I am Lord Arcturus Black, the grandfather of your godfather and the brother of your grandmother, and I believe our meeting is long overdue, Harry Potter."
Shocked, Harry stared into those steel-grey eyes that were looking at him penetratingly.
"Perhaps we should take this discussion to a more private setting?" Dumbledore suggested hesitatingly. Arcturus glanced at him out of the corner of his eyes and gave a curt nod.
As per the headmaster's instruction, everyone filed out of the common room. Mrs. Weasley hugged him again, reminding him to remember that nothing was his fault. However, instead of helping, it made him feel worse instead.
The common room was empty apart from three wizards who stood in the middle before Arcturus looked around.
"I much prefer the calmness of the dungeons. Too bright for my tastes," he clicked his tongue and conjured an ornate chair before sitting down. Harry saw Dumbledore do the same and take a seat. However, he remained standing.
"Let me be blunt here, boy," Arcturus began without missing a beat. "You fucked up. You are not capable enough. You are a hothead. And that hotheadedness got your friends and my grandson killed. Those people might say flowery words of comfort, but both of us know their words are worth nothing."
Harry listened to the man in silence as Dumbledore frowned.
"Is this necessary, Arcturus?"
"I would appreciate it if you spoke the truth for once, Albus. Or at least didn't try to stop the others. Merlin knows everyone's had enough of your honeyed words," Arcturus replied with a sneer, before turning to look at Harry once again.
"You feel guilt, don't you, boy?" he asked firmly.
Harry stayed silent.
"Yes, you don't need to answer. Your eyes scream it. So much guilt, so much blame. And what's to come out of it?"
A tense silence followed Arcturus' question, which he broke himself.
"Let me tell you something, boy. You have two choices in front of you right now," the old wizard said as he leaned back, and Harry looked up at him. Arcturus pursed his lips.
"You can either let this guilt consume you, slowly killing you from inside until you die a pathetic death," the man sneered. "Or you can use it as fuel to your rage and bring retribution to this asshole who has torn this country apart. Your choice."
Harry looked down and immediately felt a stinging sensation on his cheek. Shocked, he looked up. He didn't even notice when the wizard had closed the distance between them. Holding his reddening cheek, he stared at the man.
"Not a word, Dumbledore. This little shit needs to hear this," Arcturus warned, holding his palm up to the side before turning back towards him.
"Look at you. You are a son of the House of Potter? A house that has produced warriors after warriors? Bah! What I see in front of myself is a rooster who can't even crow," Arcturus spat to the side, before he grabbed his cheeks roughly.
"I wouldn't have given a shit about you if not for our relationship, Potter. I loved my Dorea and I respected your grandfather Charlus more than words can describe, and it is only because of those reasons why I even bothered to show up today. I don't care if you've grown up abused or faced hardship after hardship. I don't give a fuck that you've made mistakes that led to your friends' deaths. What I give a shit about is you besmirching the good name of my sister's house. I will not allow it," Arcturus hissed. "Stand up like a man and take responsibility for your mistakes, instead of bitching about how everything is your fault. Yes, you fucked up. Now own it."
The man released his hold roughly and Harry staggered back, looking at him with wide eyes.
"Do it for your ancestors if not for yourself, Potter, for you'll have to answer to them when you kick the bucket. And I can promise you, not all of them would be too happy to see your sorry face."
Without a word, the man marched out of the common room, leaving a shell-shocked Harry Potter and a troubled Albus Dumbledore in his wake.
-Break-
Harry spent the train ride alone. He made his way to the station under his invisibility cloak and got a compartment at the front of the train which was used by first-year students when they arrived at Hogwarts. It was a guaranteed way to ensure that he would remain undisturbed and out of the eyes of everyone.
Arcturus' words ran amok in his mind. The absolute scorn in the man's voice was enough to make someone flinch, but Harry recalled and replayed everything with absolute clarity.
The more he thought about it, the more he began to feel disgusted with himself. The man's words were brutally honest. He knew that. He had already accepted that he was the reason why his friends had died. Sure, they had decided to follow him. However, it was his fault in the first place which made them decide. Had he used his brain for once and not jumped in like an idiot, they wouldn't have even needed to make a choice.
However, louder than the feeling of guilt was the feeling of self-loathing Harry felt towards himself, for Arcturus was right once again. He was besmirching the name of his ancestors.
Instead of acting like a man and owning up to his mistakes, he was busy wallowing in self-pity and acting like a little bitch.
Harry gritted his teeth and glared at his lap. Yes, he fucked up. What use was there in thinking about it? His friends won't come back. Sirius won't come back. What he needed now was to do what Arcturus said. He refused to drown himself in this trench of self-pity. He refused to let Voldemort win. He would take his life back, and he would avenge his friends. Voldemort and his followers had taken everything from him. Now he would take everything from them.
The train ride passed relatively quickly, and he saw the countryside giving way to the cityscape of London as the Hogwarts Express neared the King's Cross station. Once the train stopped, Harry donned his cloak and stepped out of the compartment. He quickly passed through the entrance, and immediately found the Dursleys.
He had already decided he won't go back, no matter how much anyone wanted him to. Pulling out the note he had written on the train, Harry walked over and quickly pushed it inside Vernon's pocket.
The man swirled around in surprise, looking for whoever had touched him before feeling his pocket. His eyes widened when he felt the note and he quickly pulled it out.
"Good for nothing freak," he muttered to himself as he threw the parchment in the bin and walked away.
-Break-
"I see you've made yourself comfortable," a sharp voice made Harry turn around and he was disarmed in an instant.
"And now you're dead," the man said, holding his wand up before throwing it to the floor where it clattered and rolled over.
"What are you doing here?" Harry asked, frowning as he picked his wand up.
"What? No greetings for your well-wisher?" The man smirked.
"Some well-wisher you are," he muttered as he walked over to the bed and sat down.
"I'm not? Pray tell me then, who arranged this cozy little place with all the privacy, wards, and protections you could ask for? Who gave you those obscure tomes which you've been reading every waking hour for the past month? And who made sure you were given adequate potions to fix everything that was wrong with your body?"
Harry sighed.
"What do you want?"
Arcturus Black conjured an ornate chair and sat down, looking at Harry in silence.
"I have come to get you your new wand."
"I already told you I don't want a new wand!" Harry retorted firmly. Arcturus frowned.
"How are you going to practice those spells you've learned then? Bloody hell, you haven't cast them once. All you can do now is read on and on. Let me tell you something, Potter. Without practical, theory is meaningless."
Harry gritted his teeth. "My wand will work soon."
"Your wand will never work for you, boy!" Arcturus thundered as he glared at him, who looked up defiantly. "Your magic has changed. Have you felt anything from that wand since that night? No, you haven't. And that is because it doesn't recognise your magic. Your best bet is to get a new wand that is compatible with your magic or give up on ever avenging anyone."
Harry looked down with a sigh. He had faith that his wand will work soon, but that faith was dwindling fast. The wand felt dead to him. Even unsuited wands showed a reaction.
"Why are you doing so much for me? It can't be only because of my grandparents."
Arcturus looked at him keenly before standing up.
"Finish the tasks I've lined up for you and I will tell you. Now get ready and wear a hood. We'll be going to Knockturn."
Fifteen minutes later, they apparated inside Knockturn Alley and Harry quickly followed behind Arcturus. It had been four weeks since he had been living in one of the properties the Blacks owned. It was under a massive number of wards that made tracking and unsolicited arrival impossible. Say what one may, but the Blacks were highly accomplished warders.
The bell chimed as they entered, and Harry looked at the old woman behind the counter.
"This is Martha. She will be crafting your wand. Go on," Arcturus instructed. Harry frowned but followed the woman through the door to the side.
"I shall come back in one minute. Gather whatever you feel your magic responding to."
Harry frowned as the woman left before he started to wander. His magic reacted to several items, but he grabbed the ones which he felt the strongest response to.
Martha arrived precisely a minute later and took the ingredients from him.
"Go outside and wait for ten minutes. It shall be done."
Harry nodded and joined Arcturus who was looking through a bookshelf.
"Grab those books and take them to the counter. You shall be reading through them as well."
Sighing, Harry walked over and carried them over to the counter.
Ten minutes later, twelve more books joined the small stack and they saw Martha come out with a small box in her hands. She placed it on the counter and opened it. Harry looked at the sleek black wand in interest and took it from her.
A rush of warmth went through him as he stared at the wand in wonder.
"Your old wand?" Arcturus held his hand out, and Harry took the wand out of his pocket with a frown. The old man took it from him and to his shock, snapped it in half.
"You do not need a reminder of your past that would hold you back. Look forward. The future calls."
Harry could only stare at the man in shock as he paid for everything, shrunk the books back, and apparated them back to his place of stay.
"I will return in a month, and I want you done with all the tomes. Then we will start on your spell practice. Your Occlumency has improved very much since your fuck up, but I want you to keep working on it. Once I deem you capable enough, I will reveal my plan. Until then, goodbye."
Harry stared at the vacant spot in surprise as he dropped onto the bed, before looking at his new wand.
-Break-
One month had passed since Harry disappeared, and Dumbledore was at a loss. The trinkets that monitored Harry's health showed that he was perfectly fine, however, they could not pinpoint where he was. Already, the members of the Order were heavily searching for the young man everywhere. However, he was nowhere to be found. Even Fawkes could not locate Harry, much to his disappointment.
Dumbledore had a suspicion as to who might be behind Harry's sudden disappearance. After all, Arcturus Black had come out of his self-imposed exile after almost two decades for him. He had a strong feeling that the Black patriarch was behind the disappearance of the Potter heir.
He felt the wards at the door respond, and his eyes widened when he discovered who he was. The door opened and in walked Arcturus Black without a care in the world as he sat down. Dumbledore looked at the man with a frown.
"Let me get rid of all the trivial answers," Arcturus started. "Yes, Harry Potter is with me. No, you cannot know where he is."
Dumbledore sighed. "Harry is a very important…"
"He is a very important piece on this chessboard you have created and he is the only one who can defeat Voldemort. Did I miss anything?" Arcturus asked in return. Dumbledore frowned.
"Listen closely, Dumbledore. I never act like I am a good person, so naturally I expect the same honesty from you. Let us cut the pretentious crap out. You want that boy for your plans, and I have that boy for mine. The only similarity is that both our plans result in the same outcome – getting rid of that deceitful little shit who calls himself Voldemort."
"What do you want, Arcturus? Why Harry?" Dumbledore asked, frowning. Arcturus glared.
"I do not owe you any answers, Dumbledore. Consider it my benevolence that I even told you that Harry is with me. Do not interfere with my plans and you will be better off."
Dumbledore gave the man a small glare which did nothing to faze him.
"That boy has improved more in these few weeks than he has in years under your tutelage. You sure wasted his potential," Arcturus' eyes hardened. "Or perhaps you never intended to nurture him."
Dumbledore stayed silent.
"You were counting on him dying, weren't you? Afterall, the Horcrux would be destroyed only if the boy died," Arcturus smirked at the widening of Dumbledore's eyes.
"What? You thought you were the only one who knew the truth of Voldemort's so-called immortality? You consider yourself so above everyone, Dumbledore," Arcturus said disdainfully as he stared at the wizard in front of him. "You don't need to worry. With that Horcrux gone, the boy will become a true Potter – one who will bring about the end of this so-called dark lord."
Dumbledore stared at Arcturus as he turned around to walk away.
"Naturally I shall be telling him the truth. He can make his own decisions. However, forget that he will remain a little soldier you had been raising all these years. I'll be damned if I ever let that happen," Arcturus snarled before he walked out.
Dumbledore could only stare at the closed door in shock, still reeling from the fact that Voldemort's means of immortality was no longer a secret.
-Break-
Three months had passed since Arcturus visited Dumbledore and he had spent the past two on Harry, drilling him through the paces. The boy was a very capable wizard and had power in abundance, easily more than he and Charlus possessed. However, he was also hotheaded and didn't think things through.
However, Arcturus believed he had managed to help the boy tone it down considerably in the past few months.
Currently, he watched the boy as he worked in the enchanted room that helped his physique and stamina. The boy could have been a Hufflepuff given how hardworking he truly was.
Arcturus was happy that he had managed to get through the boy's head. Once the boy had accepted everything, he learned to use it as motivation to overcome whatever challenges he threw at him.
The new Hogwarts year had begun. However, the boy had no desire to go back, not after what had transpired a few months ago. Instead, he studied on his own, he practiced spells well beyond what they taught at Hogwarts on his own and he worked on the mind arts on his own.
However, the last two months had been particularly taxing for both him and the boy. For one, he had acquired enchanted training dummies that aurors and hit-wizards used so that the boy could practice his battling against one or multiple opponents. Once the boy had become capable to hold his own and beat multiple opponents, Arcturus joined the fray.
He and Charlus had been the best wands in the war against Grindelwald, and age had not dulled his skills much. Even Dumbledore would've been hard-pressed against either of the pair back in the day, and he believed the boy would improve massively after some personal training from him as well.
That had been two months ago, and Arcturus was very much satisfied with the results.
The war outside had intensified considerably. With stealth no longer on his side and having lost so many of his strong followers, Voldemort had hastened to deal a blow to the morale of the populace. The murder of Amelia Bones, the interim minister had made headlines, and he knew the boy wanted to go out and prove his well-earned abilities on the battlefield. However, Arcturus had stopped him. The boy would fight, but not now.
It was evident that his self-control had improved massively when he had not argued to jump into the fray and had listened to him instead. A lot of it could be attributed to his harsh words, but his rough training methods also proved fruitful.
Potter was a very capable wizard, and Arcturus was sure he was among some of the most dangerous wizards alive, with immense potential. The boy would only improve from now on, of that he had no doubt.
Only he won't be there to see it.
-Break-
"Sit down," Arcturus instructed, and Harry took his seat in front of him. Arcturus looked at the young man in front of him and smirked.
"Now you look like a son of the House of Potter," he commented.
Harry shook his head.
"You wanted to talk about something?"
Arcturus nodded.
"I haven't been entirely truthful with you," he began. "The reason why I finally revealed myself after all these years and approached you is because I have a plan. A very ambitious plan that could decide the fate of our world as we know it. And it hinges entirely on you."
Harry frowned. "What is this plan?"
Instead of replying, Arcturus slid a scroll forward. "Open it."
Harry picked it up and pulled the knot open, flattening the scroll on the table and looking at it.
"A photograph?"
"That is the photograph of the entire Black family before the war began. Compare the number of people with who are alive today. Do you notice something?"
Before Harry could reply, Arcturus slid another scroll, and Harry repeated the process. His breath hitched when he recognized his parents.
"The Potters were not as large a family as us Blacks, but the truth remains the same," Arcturus explained with a frown. "Entire families were wiped out in the war, and irreversible damage was caused to the wizarding population of Britain."
"Voldemort surely did a number on us," Harry muttered. "And more will die in the coming years. How can we survive?"
"We cannot. Not with the damage that is already done and is sure to come. Makes you wonder, doesn't it? Just what does that madman want?" Arcturus asked rhetorically. "Greed for power of one madman has destroyed our society. It shattered our families and threw us into a catastrophic future. And it is a future I refuse to accept."
Harry stared at the man who was glaring at the table. "What are you saying?"
Arcturus looked at him in response. "My plan is to send a highly capable wizard back in time and alter the future as we know it. I want you, Harry Potter, to go back in time and stop Voldemort before he can rise, and in the process, save countless families from destruction, including yours and mine."
Wide-eyed, Harry stared at the Black patriarch in silence.
TBC.
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