Chapter 4
Chapter 4
The free-fall was exhilarating.
The landing, not so much.
Harry grimaced as he canceled a hover spell and let himself flop on to the ground. Quietly to rolled on to the side and wrapped his arms around his stomach. That really hadn’t been the best spell to use on himself, and his stomach seemed to shift back and forth in protest even as the throb in his head worsened.
He closed his eyes for a moment before he sighed and pushed himself to his knees. A quick glance around and he knew exactly where he was. Harry leaned back and took a moment to really observe the death chamber before he let his eyes up look to the ceiling. Well, where a ceiling should have been. It was just darkness up there.
With his stomach quickly settled, Harry rolled on to his feet and focused on the arch. Hermione had mentioned campaigning to demolish the terrible thing just a few weeks ago. It seemed like she hadn’t succeeded. Harry pursed his lips together, and didn’t even realize his feet were moving until he stood at the bottom of the short five step staircase that led up to the platform that housed the veil.
“I can’t hear anything,” Harry whispered to himself. The last time he had been here, he could have sworn he had heard whispers in here. He could have sworn there was something. Harry stepped forward to get on to that first step—
A flash of blue light and a clap of thunder, and Harry found himself slumped against the wall clear to the other side of the room. The only evidence of his launch the ache in his back as he wheezed. His mind just couldn’t catch up to what had happened for a few long seconds and he sucked in air through clenched teeth. Desperate for breath even as he tried to wiggle feeling back in to his fingers and toes.
That had been so… Harry shuffeled and slumped over and on to his side. He squinted out at the veil.
“I’ll destroy you.” Harry somehow hissed out. A white hot anger blossomed in his heart as he glared at it. This place had haunted him (still haunted him) and knowing that Hermione had failed in this mission left him with a bitter taste.
But, well, he didn’t exactly have the time to blast an apparent ward to smithereens and didn’t have the time to somehow figure out how to curse break in a few minutes.
Harry rubbed at his face and unhooked the clasp of his cloak. This was too heavy, and was going to get in the way. The glamour magic went as well. If he was caught down here, they probably wouldn’t care what he looked like. As it was, Harry rolled his shoulders and—
… his bag!
Harry’s breath hitched as he scrambled to pull off his bag—the aquarium! The octopus! Harry couldn’t even feel his body as he ripped at the clasps and shoved the lip open and—and there was the octopus’ curious, hopeful little face. Harry breathed a sigh of relief and let his head drop down to rest on top of the glass.
“Thank Merlin,” Harry breathed, somehow knowing that the octopus was nuzzling back through the glass with the allocated contact. Harry didn’t even know what he would have done if he had accidentally crushed the little guy.
He shook his head and quickly closed up the bag before he could convince himself that he should take the octopus out of there. It looked so sad! But Harry was sure it couldn’t actually leave a body of water. He would have to check his pamphlet out at a later date for that information. He re-shouldered his bag and hopped to his feet. There was the door right there, the launch had definitely shortened his walking time if nothing else. Harry stood still a moment to shake out his right leg, and grinned to himself. Harry was still rather smug about his pain tolerance (Ron had learned to be more annoyed than jealous in time during Auror training. Those years had been memorable, very much so). He felt right as rain.
He opened the door.
Frank’s face—
—red light—
Harry groaned as he woke up to screaming. He cringed and opened his eyes—where was that screaming coming from? It was so constant that it seemed unbelievable that it just kept going on, and on, and on… Harry rolled, or he tried to. He twitched, and found that the only thing he could do was move his head. He lifted his head up, and then let out another groan and his head dropped down on to the stone floor.
Frank stepped over to hover next to Harry’s head with a contrite frown over his face.
“I know you’d come here. It was just—such a Harry Potter thing, I thought.” Frank added with a shuffle, and a nervous glance to over his shoulder. Harry followed Frank’s look and realized that the veil was looming over them. Harry pulled his lips back, ready to do what he did best (piss off his enemies until he could figure out how to escape) when Frank continued on, “Harry Potter, I need your help. The unspeakables have taken over the Ministry, and all of Britain and Scotland.” Frank shifted and kneeled down next Harry’s head.
And all he could see was Neville’s teary, young eyes and hear that screaming—
“What?” Harry croaked.
“No one knows how this… this happened. They’ve been memory charming—everyone! They started out pretty subtle I think. I think… I think they got Hermione Granger first. All of her family said she was different after you were declared dead, but not so different. She became…” Frank grasped for straws to explain but came up with nothing.
He shivered, “my… my charm broke, I think. When my mum passed, I got… well, she was a curse breaker. She left me a necklace in her will. It broke the charms on me. And, and I can’t believe I’ve been so blind. It doesn’t stick on me—the charms. But the unspeakables, they come and charm the auror department twice a month. They make a yearly trip to Hogwarts before the summer holidays.” Frank took a sharp breath with his nose, and clenched his fist on his knees. He kept eye contact with Harry, even as he struggled to keep his panic and fear in check to be understandable.
“The squibs, in the bank—the unspeakables rounded them up. They’re there against their wills. They’ve… they’ve even set up breeding programs. They just charm them to do as they want. I’ve broken a few of them of their charms. I’m rather gifted, yunno, in charms. And it’s just… It’s terrible. And I didn’t know what to do. And one of my informants told me that the unspeakables found you—I brought my team in first. I got you out before they could take you out and…”
Harry struggled against the obvious body bind he was still under. He couldn’t move still, but his skin itched to get out with enough intensity that he knew that if Frank didn’t let him loose, he would break out given enough time.
Although even with that, the horror of what he was hearing, the mere possibility…
“Why? Why is this… why am I?” Harry trailed off, his pinky finger twitching.
Frank’s eyes drifted to the side. “The group you were with—I had to make a decision. You don’t look like Harry Potter anymore. But there was another man you were with. A few charms and he could pass off as you. I handed him over to the unspeakables when they came for you. I claimed that you, purple haired and white faced you—were just some random bystander.” His grim face grew taut and his shoulders rose to almost touch his ears.
Harry didn’t even have words to express himself. Couldn’t even understand himself.
Well, Frank seemed to feel his judgment anyway.
“It’s just—I need your help. You, it was always said that you could do the impossible. And I had heard that there were three prophecies and pertained to you and the ministry. I charmed you, a little nudge. To get them. I have…” Frank trailed off as Harry abruptly sat up with no fanfare to speak of, and Frank jerked back in time not to get a hard forehead to his nose.
“I’m not a tool for you to use!” Harry hissed, his skin beyond sensitive and was downright prickly and his muscles jumpy. He had been used, and apparently the gut feelings had been a lie. It had all been done to lead him here.
… to a begging, scared young man.
Frank looked up. “Please.” He whispered, a hand raised as if to touch Harry’s shoulder. Before he dropped his hand.
“Please. We can’t go on like this. It’s not right.” Frank added. Frank begged. And Harry hated the sympathetic flight response he had at the idea of the wizarding world under the control of charms.
Frank took a deep breath.
“They killed Teddy Lupin. It was a big mistake—so they re-created him with some poor son of a bitch they pulled off the streets somewhere. I don’t know who they were, before. But your son Albus seemed to know when things had gone wrong and distanced himself before he fled… Teddy Lupin is dead, and a puppet.” Frank’s voice somehow drowned out the wringing scream of the veil in to a dull buzz.
The icy grip on Harry’s heart—
It felt like he was burning. Something hot and cold and rage—
“I don’t know the extent of it. But I, for sure, know that Albus Potter and Scorpius Malfoy—they knew something was up. They fled from Britain. I’ve been in contact with them. They’re not… what they used to be. But we’ve summoned up as best of a resistance as we could. But… but it’s so hard to tell who is an unspeakable and who is not.” Frank dropped his head and rubbed at his face with his shaking hands.
Harry would have reached out to comfort him, but he feared that he would break the other with the strength of his grip. He could see the seams of his gloves stretch to their near breaking point.
Again. It had happened again. Or maybe, it had never changed? Maybe it wasn’t something that could be changed.
Harry paused and reached in to his pocket. He felt around for the orb—and pulled out a handful of glass shards. Frank went silent as he watched the handful of glass merrily bounce against the stone that they were seated on.
Harry didn’t even bother to stop the giggle that slipped out. The rage and hysteria were warring something terrible in his body. Harry had always been more hormonal than most, but this was reminiscent to his late teenagedom, on the run from the Death Eater Ministry and about to face his death on the outskirts of Hogwarts.
Well, that prophecy was never going to be heard from again.
Frank actually whimpered.
“Man up, Frank.” Harry said, his eyes raising to lock with Frank. Harry rolled to his knees and loomed over Frank. Inching closer and closer until Frank sprawled out silently on to his back. Harry snorted.
“If you want me to help—you gotta do one thing for me.” Harry concluded.
“Anything!” Frank gasped—and Harry could see the desperation in Frank’s eyes. And he could understand Frank and his desperation. He could understand the careful manipulations as a last ditch act of desperation. Of a war that only a select few even knew about as well as on overwhelming enemy that they had no chance to win against. Harry had lived it, technically less than a decade ago.
Harry hated the sympathy. Hated that he could understand why everyone kept coming back to him. Harry had done the impossible more often than someone should be able to do, and still come out alive. He was the man that death hated, and Harry knew no other could claim that title quite like he could. He had died twice, after all. But perhaps this memory business made it a third time, in its own way. “The man you handed over to the unspeakables—he has to be innocent. We’re going to go get him, and you need to return him to where you found him.”
Frank blinked, eyebrows drawing together in confusion, and no small amount of incredulity. Harry spoke before Frank could get himself thinking straight, “Put him back. No one deserves the Harry Potter treatment everyone slathers on to me.”
Harry sat back on his heels before he stood up and narrowed his eyes at the veil.
“Right. Yeah. Done deal Mr. Potter… but, um… could you help spring him out?” Frank scrambled to his feet as well.
Harry shifted, and nodded. Yeah. Yeah, that could be done.
“Why’d you put this shield around the veil?” Harry asked, instead of replying.
Frank drifted in to place next to Harry, and looked up at the raggedy curtains. “… seems like the right thing to do. I’m rather good at charms and curse breaking. So I’m pretty good at cursing as well. The unspeakables still haven’t figured out how to crack it, but my inside man says that it’s a near thing.” Frank rubbed his hands together like he had a chill, and then tucked his hands in to his armpits.
Harry, if he strained himself… it sounded like the screaming was a phrase, now. Clearer than ever before, as he stood so close to the veil.
“What do you think is on the other side?” Harry asked faintly.
“Don’t rightly care to know. This whole place needs to burn.” Frank lowered his eyes to Harry. “I think they’ve been throwing a lot of muggles in here… to experiment.”
“Yeah… I could see this place burning.” Harry tapped the toes of one boot against the ground, but didn’t bother to look over to Frank.
“When this is over—I’m done. I’m just…. I’m done. You understand?” Harry stated, more than asked.
Frank paused, and then he nodded. “Harry Potter died years ago. You’ve nearly been erased, you realize?”
“Maybe you should do the final step—and finish it. I’d rather not be nearly headless.” Harry quipped, and Frank jerked at the startled laugh that left his own mouth. Frank stepped away hastily, coughing to cover his laugh.
Harry realized right then and there… that he wanted to leave.
He couldn’t do this much longer.
… once more. That had to be enough.
This death chamber had once been the catalyst for his own metamorphosis of the man that he had become. It was fitting that it was here he had his final realization of how much he just didn’t want to be here anymore. Perhaps it was the lack of the familiar. The lack of friends or family that didn’t think him dead. It could be all or none—or maybe he had always been like this but had blinded himself to it.
Harry turned from the veil, and snagged his bag from the floor as he strode to leave the platform. Frank fell in to step with Harry and parted the protections around the platform to allow them through. Harry didn’t initiate conversation, and Frank didn’t strike up his own. Together, they exited the chamber and in to the hall. Once the door closed the hall spun dizzily again. Harry huffed and moved to choose a door at random, but Frank’s hand on his elbow stopped him.
Harry didn’t even have the time to raise an eyebrow at the other man. Frank shoved a pair of black circle sunglasses in to his hands, and then shoved a pair over his eyes as well. Harry squinted at Frank, and reluctantly put out the counter intuitively dark sunglasses over his eyes. Although when he looked up to peer through the spectacles, it was to see everything in a hue of purple. With white words floating in front of the doors.
It didn’t take much for Harry to twist and look up to the words over the door behind himself. ‘TIME ROOM’ was clearly labeled in floating white. Across from them was the ‘EXIT’, and to the right was the ‘DEATH ROOM’. Frank tugged on Harry’s sleeve and turned to the left. They entered a room titled ‘main offices’ and quietly entered a side door titled ‘BRAIN PESTER’. There was a little reception desk in the tiny entry room they had stepped in.
Someone really should have protested the continual use of the black tile that Harry could still see under the sheen of the purple hue of the sunglasses.
Harry reached for his wand, and found his sleeve empty.
Frank sheepishly handed the wand over before Harry could look over to him. Harry snatched it back, checked his bag straps, and promptly kicked in the door. He dived in to the room, aware that Frank was rolling with him as they sooth bathed the room in reds.
It was over before it began, really.
Harry laughed to himself—that was suspiciously easy.
Frank put his hands on his knees, gasping. “Merlin, you’re fast.” Harry raised an eyebrow and frowned. It didn’t seem so, but he suppose he was decently fast. Harry brushed himself off as he looked around. Ten unspeakables littered the floor like trash, vaguely around a single point of a person chained to a chair.
Harry immediately stepped forward, reaching out for them—
Frank stepped in front of Harry resolutely and started to cast detection spells. And in seconds was dismantling the curses around the chained form. Harry didn’t even bother to feel sheepish. “So, what was the Cauldron scene for?” Harry asked, a bit waspish with his tone.
Frank faltered, and then continued on even though he reluctantly started to talk, “well, um… the unspeakables aren’t stupid, you know. They tested the man… and even though he was transfigured to look like you, he isn’t actually you.” Harry nodded along with Frank’s words. He crouched down to look up at his own unconscious face. It really was a good replica.
“My memories?” Harry quietly asked, his voice sibilant in the quiet of the room. The only sound the swish of Frank’s wand.
Frank stopped his casting and let his wand hang at his side. “I… I took them. You weren’t… you weren’t you.” Frank turned and looked up at Harry through his lashes. “Please don’t be angry.”
“I’m not angry.” Harry looked up at Frank with a grin from where he was crouched in front of the chair. No, he wasn’t angry. He was stone cold furious in a way that his brain was shortening out in incomprehension. His hands were aching and his heart was calm in his chest. “Don’t you worry.” After all, he had somewhere to vent his rage.
“How are you going to give them back?” Harry asked.
Frank paused before he reached to his wrist and pulled off a bracelet. He held it out to Harry, who immediately snatched it up. All the pretty white gems were actually small vials… full of memories. There were hundreds of them, all clustered together like gems. “They’re unbreakable. So you… when you’re comfortable. When you have the time you can slowly reintroduce yourself.”
Harry stared at the bracelet for a long time before he clasped it to his wrist, and tugged his sleeve over it.
“Was the graft-thing you sold me a lie?” Harry whispered.
“… in a way, yes.” Frank whispered back.
Harry slowly stood up, unable to bring himself to look at Frank. Harry had made his stance rather clear, as it were. If he hadn’t already decided on his course of action, this would have definitely been a turning point for him. But he had already reached the point of no return.
“The protections gone?” Harry asked. Out of the corner of his eye he could see Frank nod and step back. Harry flicked his wand, “finite,” and watched the transfigurations revert.
Harry watched the man’s hair go from inky black to red stained blond. And flinched back in horror at the empty nothing where his eyes had been. Harry inhaled sharply, and looked to Frank for an explanation. Frank had gone pale faced, but hadn’t frozen up.
“I think… I think they were preparing him to be… be… Well….” Frank trailed off and motioned to the wall across from the door. It wasn’t tile there, Harry realized. Just a wall of small aquarium tanks full of human brains. Harry quickly focused on the man, hand shooting out to rest on his pulse point (when did he learn this?) and let out a relieved sigh that the man still breathed, still had a pulse and a heartbeat.
Harry stepped away. Unable to look away from the gore of the dark red—empty—sockets.
“What can fix this?” Harry asked hoarsely. His body was shaking in sympathetic horror. The man was unconscious, and Harry didn’t want him awake to feel this. Harry found his eyes watering in pain, and didn’t resist rubbing at his own eyes.
The building, burning pain only eased when he looked away.
“Some potions. Y-yeah. Potions. And, um. A healer. We can’t exactly put him back where we found him, just yet…” Frank said, even as he dug through his pockets before he pulled out his trunk and unshrank it. It was large, and it didn’t take Harry long to recognize Mad Eye Moody’s trunk, where the man himself had been imprisoned.
“… don’t let him wake up.” Harry whispered. Frank paused, before he nodded and crafted a small enchantment before he tucked the man away.
“Can you get to… the headquarters of the order of the phoenix?” Harry asked in the stillness. Frank looked over, then he nodded.
“Put him there. I’ll get him when I’m finished.” Harry would fix this. He had brought this madness down on that poor muggle’s head. He would make this right. Even if it took a little bit of time. Harry pressed his pales to his eyes, and was glad when the green clad, blood splattered form was tucked away.
Frank reached out to touch his shoulder, and Harry unsubtly stepped away.
Frank dropped his hand. And didn’t offer it again.
“Go.” Harry hissed. “You have ten minutes to clear anything precious from these halls.” Frank didn’t hesitate, and ducked out of the room as if it was already on fire. Harry let out a long, shuddering breath before he nodded to himself.
Auror training had not readied him for this. The guerrilla warfare against Voldemort had. Harry pressed his hands even more firmly against his eyes and rocked himself back and forth for a moment, humming a soft lullaby. Soon, he would be done and gone from this place. From the obviously unsalvageable existence that was wizard-kind. Harry Potter had only ever killed one man in his life, and he already felt bruised and stained from just that one kill.
Somehow he doubted that he was going to keep that number the same after today. But wasn’t he a good little soldier? Getting dirty in the place of others? Harry mentally cursed at McGonagall, at all of Hogwarts—the Auror corps were not like the muggle police, as they were so often compared. They were more like some strange mix of secret police and committee for state security. Maybe even comparable to the British Military Intelligence offices. He had debated this with Hermione, even as he and Ron told her every dirty detail of their training, easily getting around the oaths that they refused to let tie them to secrecy. Hermione had thought that their rule breaking then was appropriate.
But Harry had been conditioned. Even if it was on the tailcoats of a guerilla war—he had still technically been trained by a wartime system.
“Was it always going to end here?” Harry asked himself, staring at the empty chair the muggle had once been strapped in to.
Harry shook his head and snapped his glasses back in to place.
… there was still, undoubtedly, a file with his name on it. He would need it. It wasn’t like Frank could be completely trusted. Just enough to make it through this trial.
Once he had what he wanted—the rest of this place was going to burn.