And that had been the end of the memory.
Harry would never know what could have been. Death took that away from him.
He had no idea how long he'd been standing in front of the flowing stream in the freezing cold weather, wearing nothing but a thin white t-shirt and black slacks to shelter him from the harsh winter. But the sun had slowly begun to set, disappearing into a sea of orange and green leaves.
In any other circumstance, the view of orange and violet streaks painting the skyline would have been breathtaking, but now all it did was serve as a reminder of those other memories. Those other wretched memories that had been treacherously locked away from him.
Harry had arrived at his Peverell Cottage before the break of dawn to try to figure things out, but here he was, hours later, still a mess of contradicting emotions battling furiously against one another—and as unresolved as he'd been when he arrived.
Harry thought that by then he'd have managed to reach an accord with himself, or, at the very least, have calmed the raging beast inside enough to trust himself to not end the world. But rather than subsiding, the beast kept growing in strength, threatening to rip through his heart and to take hold of him.
The urge to release his enraged energy and destroy it all ached in his bones. Sheer will was the only thing that kept him from lashing out and razing the cottage and all its surroundings to the ground.
Soft blond curls threaded between his fingers.
Loving azure eyes that burned him with a shameful amount of passion.
Skin the shade of snow, beautifully luminescent in the moonlight.
Lips so luscious that he couldn't help but ravage. Those same lips that wrapped around—
No, he just couldn't go there—won't allow himself to—not ever.
How was he to move forward?
Was it even real? What if it was? Why block the memory? Why not remove it altogether if he'd gone through the trouble of making sure that...that...mistake, stays in the past?
Harry just couldn't understand how Death could betray him like that.
Where was the honesty and respect for boundaries they'd sworn to? They had rules, and mutual respect towards one another that he'd thought was unfailing.
He was furious. No, what he felt went far beyond fury. There was not one word in existence that could adequately describe exactly how furious he felt.
He'd been audaciously betrayed, manipulated, handled, and deceived—by none other than his most trusted companion.
Infuriated, enraged, incensed, livid, wrathful—how else could he possibly feel with the knife lodged so deeply into his back?
Yet, however irrational it was, that unmeasurable fury wasn't the most consuming emotion that scorched through him and the other he could name very easily—rejection. It's what spurred the few tears that managed to make their escape.
This couldn't have been revealed to him at a more inconvenient time.
Why now? Why did these memories unlodge themselves now of all times?
He knew how it happened, of course. He had Black Family Magic to thank for that. But why did it have to be now while he was in the middle of trying to change the world?
He couldn't even decide if he'd rather not have known. He had the past couple of centuries as proof that it would have definitely been easier for him if he'd never found out about any of it, but was it better not knowing? To not know how Tom had felt about him? But if Death had never changed his memories, he wouldn't have gotten to know those beautiful eyes and that angelic smile, or the gentleness of his touch.
But what did that matter when he'd locked it all away from him anyway?
Merlin, help him. This was all so grossly fucked up.
Before he could lurch himself into any further spiralling thoughts, he felt an all too familiar presence appear behind him. It took everything in him not to turn around, but he stubbornly stood his ground facing away from him, clamped his eyes shut, and bit his tongue to keep his mouth from shooting off.
They stood in tense silence for a while until Death couldn't seem to take it any longer.
"Alright," Death sighed exasperatedly. "I've no idea what's wrong with you, Harry, but I gave you a day to get your shit together before coming here to get you. Everyone back at Hogwarts is going ape-shit over your disappearance. They were even thinking that you've been kidnapped by Grindelwald, so you might want to let everyone know that you've not been taken prisoner," he informed him, hoping to appeal to Harry's sense of compassion towards his worried friends. But Harry stayed silent.
Death waited for a few beats, hoping that Harry would snap out of whatever funk he found himself in, pronto. But no such luck.
"Would you like to discuss what's weighing you down, or would you rather continue sulking and throw everything we've planned away?" Death finally snapped at him.
Harry's shoulders shook as he began to chuckle darkly.
"I don't know, Death. Would you like to discuss the summer of 1945?" he asked him, still not turning around.
"Summer of 1945?" Death wondered out loud, clearly confused with the turn of conversation. "What are you on about, Harry? That's the summer after Riddle broke your itty-bitty heart. You stayed here in the cottage and-" he abruptly cut himself off, finally catching on. It was clear in the way his breath hitched, and in the way he stumbled back a few steps, that Death finally understood.
"Indeed," murmured Harry tiredly. "You didn't just take away my memories, did you? Now that I'm able to recall everything with perfect clarity it's easy to piece together. You took away my curiosity about you as well, didn't you? I mean, I spent centuries wondering...but then it was gone. I've not thought about it since, and if my thoughts do stray that way, they are quickly turned around, almost as if manipulated to do so, wouldn't you agree?" he asked him evenly, but he betrayed his agitation by uncrossing his arms from over his chest and running a hand through his hair.
"I always knew you'd look like an angel. That confidence and swagger had to stem from somewhere, right?" Harry chuckled again, this time it came out sounding broken and defeated.
"Harry-" Death started to say, but Harry wouldn't have any of it.
"Save it," he growled. "I'm not ready to hear your fucked up excuses. One day isn't nearly enough to process the shit you pulled—to process the number of memories you took away from me," Harry hissed, feeling his anger bubble to the surface. "Just stay the fuck away from me until I figure shit out."
Harry was about to leave, but he had one last message he needed to convey before doing so, and it couldn't be done facing away from Death. So Harry slowly turned around to face the dark hooded man that had caused his most recent pain and confusion.
Emerald green eyes stared directly into the dark void behind the hood, perfectly able to picture the crystalline eyes hiding in the shadows.
"Tamper with my memories again, and I'll burn this rotten world to the ground myself," Harry warned him before disappearing silently from sight.
Arcturus was not a happy wizard. He wasn't happy at all.
He had just spent the entire day searching the castle and its grounds for one infirmary escapee, Hadrian James Peverell.
He'd been worried sick about the idiot boy, who had up and left the Hospital Wing without leaving so much as a note for them to find. So, with no inkling whatsoever as to where the boy had disappeared, he'd searched, and searched—and hyperventilated in a private alcove—and searched some more, cursed the boy to the stars and back, searched some more....
Then, just as he was about to hysterically tear into the Hogwarts faculty for their utter incompetence—his own failings aside—Hadrian was seen leisurely walking out of the Forbidden Forest, shivering and looking like death warmed over, but otherwise unharmed.
At the news, Arcturus was finally able to breathe again, for a moment or so, but then he became angry.
Now, ten minutes later, Hadrian stood before him looking slightly abashed, green eyes lowered guiltily to the ground.
Needing some more time to get his anger under control, Arcturus began performing some diagnostic spells. Merlin knows what the idiot boy could have gotten up to during all this time away from the castle.
Once Arcturus was reassured that Hadrian wasn't about to kneel over from magical exhaustion, he pushed Harry towards his hospital bed, shooting him a look through narrowed eyes that clearly said: 'I dare you to argue with me, Hadrian. I dare you'.
Not wanting to further upset the wizard, Harry promptly flicked his wrist to change into the horrendous hospital gown and climbed into bed.
Arcturus groaned internally at the unconscious display of wandless magic and grit his teeth together. Merlin, have mercy on him, the idiot boy was going to be the death of him.
Harry wasn't meant to perform any magic until he was fully recovered, not with a wand and certainly not without one.
"I'm sure that Madam Weaver has informed you that you're not to use any magic until I've cleared you to do so," Arcturus barked, startling Harry.
"Right," Harry said. "I mean, yes, she did. I just- er- forgot. I'm sorry, I will uh- I will try to refrain until you give me the go-ahead," he stuttered, nervously wringing the coarse bed sheet between his fingers.
Arcturus harrumphed in a rather un-Lord-like manner and looked like he was about to give Harry a piece of his mind, but then he sighed and his shoulders slumped wearily, only adding fuel to Harry's guilt.
"You've got some nerve, boy," Arcturus finally grumbled.
"I apologise for any worry I've caused you, Arcturus," Harry said regretfully, trying to make amends. "That truly hadn't been my intention. I simply needed some air and lost track of time in the forest," he explained, sounding sincere enough in his apology, but Arcturus wasn't born yesterday. Harry had not been in the forest, of that he was sure, but he allowed the lie to slide for now because they had other, more pressing matters to address.
"Whether it was your intention or not, you still had us all worried sick, Harry. Alphard has barricaded himself in the dorm room. Orion had to be given a sleeping draught. All of Hogwarts' faculty spent their day searching for you, and Aurors had been called! If you don't have any care for your own health, the next time you deem it necessary to disregard all instructions given to you, try and consider the people who care and worry for you," he scolded harshly, and for the first time in their relatively short acquaintance, Harry could see that rumoured Black Madness glinting in his aged eyes.
"Yes, sir. It won't happen again," Harry quickly reassured him.
"Good," he said stiffly, not feeling at all reassured. "And now that you're awake and almost fully recovered, I'd like to tell you what a complete fool you were during the battle."
Huh?
"Don't give me that look, Harry," he snapped agitatedly, causing Harry's eyebrows to rise even higher. "While what you did was very admirable and brave," he said, and while the words themself would be normally considered a compliment, it was clear that Lord Black didn't mean them as such, "you almost lost your life in the process."
"You do realise that, don't you?" Arcturus asked him, stressing the question in such a way that had Harry thinking that Lord Black was actually concerned that Harry was a narcissist with an inflated sense of self-importance that rendered him incapable of grasping his own mortality.
Well, the joke's on him.
"What were you thinking? Activating two Rune Brandings, conjuring a Patronus, healing! Not to mention whatever else you had to do to capture those dark wizards! What exactly did you think was going to happen to you? And don't get me started on the fact that I've been told you showed the Dark Lord cheek! The Dark Lord!" he exclaimed somewhat hysterically. "Someone that's very dangerous and who had you surrounded, Hadrian. Do you have a death wish? If I ever hear that you've so carelessly endangered your life again, you can rest assured that I will oblige your death wish!"
Struck speechless and feeling thoroughly admonished, Harry simply nodded his head.
Arcturus sighed and he gave Harry a small smile, his anger depleting rather abruptly. "That said, I must applaud your skills, Harry. It is thanks to you that none of the other students suffered any grievous injuries."
"Right. Uh- thanks, Arcturus," he mumbled, feeling bewildered by his sudden change in his temperament.
"I am proud of what you've done, Harry," he told him, his tone turning soft, "and so very grateful that you've kept my children safe. Thank you," he said, voice hoarse and eyes shimmering suspiciously with unshed tears.
Harry started feeling warm around the collar at the unexpected praise and gratitude. At a loss for words, Harry simply gave him a small, shy nod and one of his rarely-seen, genuine smiles.
Arcturus cleared his throat, "Alright then," he said, breaking the emotion-filled moment. "I think that you will be relieved to hear that I've asked everyone who saw your Rune Brandings for a vow of secrecy," he informed him delicately, clearly wanting to say more on the subject of his brandings.
"Much appreciated, Arcturus. Although I trust that such things would be kept quite regardless, I understand that we cannot afford even a whisper of such matters to get around right now. Not with the appeal less than two weeks away."
Lord Black waited for a moment, hoping that he'd say more, offering a short explanation as to how, why, when he'd brutalised himself. But the seconds ticked by and Harry kept silent, so as Harry didn't seem likely to elaborate on the brandings, he reluctantly moved onto other matters.
"Speaking of the appeal. While you were recovering, we finally received word from the D.O.M. and the Department of Magical Artifacts. The D.M.L.E. also sent us a letter, together with a personal letter from the Minister."
"They have?" Harry asked him, sitting up straighter in his bed, curious and nervous to hear what they said.
"The D.O.M has finally declared your invention safe and will be giving you their full support," Arcturus said with a customary Black smirk. "Not that we had any doubts about that, but it's good to have written confirmation."
Harry nodded his head in agreement and looked pleased with the outcome, maybe even slightly smug.
"After an extensive analysis, the Department of Magical Artifacts decided to classify your invention under 'Highly Classified Grey Artifacts'. Only authorised Ministry personnel and the creator are legally allowed to use it," he informed him.
"Well that's finally some good news," Harry stated with a smirk of his own in place. Everything was coming together just as he'd hoped. "And the D.M.L.E.?" he prompted.
At the question, Arcturus' eyes sparkled mischievously with a sharp edge of maliciousness.
"The D.M.L.E will be coordinating with you on the shelter once you're fully recovered," he proudly informed him.
Harry's eyebrows rose and his smirk grew even wider. "So the Minister has finally agreed to our proposition?"
Arcturus nodded his head. "Indeed, he has. Truth be told, he didn't have much of a choice. Over thirty families have already lost their homes, and their only option is to place them at the shelter. Is the manor prepared? I have the healers, mind healers, medi-wizards, and a potion master picked out," he listed a touch excitedly. "They simply await our owl."
"That's perfect, Arcturus. And yes, the shelter is prepared, and the best wards Gringotts has to offer are set in place."
Arcturus looked relieved at the news. "I'll need to provide the Head Auror with a complete list of those wards," he informed him.
"I have it filed away in my trunk. I'll have Orion send it to you since I'm not allowed out of the hospital wing," Harry griped good-naturedly.
"Don't start, young man," Arcturus warned him. "Be glad I didn't have you bound to the bed."
"Oh, Arcturus. That's rather forward of you," Harry told him coyly. "What would the dear Lady Black have to say if she heard you proposition me so?"
Arcturus sputtered for a moment and flushed scarlet at the innuendo.
"Merlin, Harry! Behave yourself," he chided, his tone just a pitch off.
"But you look so handsome when you're flustered," Harry flirted, batting his eyelashes in an exaggerated manner which caused Lord Black to choke on his chuckles.
"Don't think that I don't know what you're trying to do. You're not going to distract me from all the questions I've got for you, Harry," he told him mirthfully. "How is it, exactly, that we were able to perform Black Family Magic on you? And how, exactly, are you acquainted with Gellert Grindelwald? And don't think that the matter of your brandings has been dropped."
"Bugger," Harry groaned, slumping back into his hospital bed. "That uh- that's a long story, and I'm suddenly feeling very tired. I better get some rest. I'm still recovering, after all."
"Merlin, Harry. You can be a right piece of work, you know," Arcturus complained, sounding torn between amusement and exasperation.
"So I've been told, once or twice," he mumbled, not the least bit offended.
"Fine. Get some rest," Arcturus sighed. "But don't think that this discussion is over."
"Wouldn't dream of it," Harry quipped with a boyish grin that was only slightly triumphant.
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(A/N) I know this is a long time I took for posting and I just wanted to let you know that a lot of things just sprung up at my school and at home so I didn't get the chance to post the chapters. As a compensation, I will be posting three chapters for each story. Due to the fact that I am still figuring this out, the next post may be quite long. Please check out some of my other works and let me know what you think. Thanks for reading. Love you all.