“Harry Potter was a Gryffindor. Anyone who believes otherwise must look only at what he was willing to do to save his friends and the world. Once you know that, there is no question of it.”

Remus Lupin, as quoted in Harry Potter: A tribute by Elvian Sorren

Harry felt the first touch of her mental hand against his mind. He felt a wall collapse. He felt something reveal itself.

And, finally, blessedly, Harry Potter remembered.

He rolled over of his own volition, snapped open his eyes and stared into the frightened face of Bellatrix Lestrange.

Hogwarts was silent at three hours until dawn. No student was studying. No teacher was prowling.
Filch was hiding. Even the prefects were too defeated to make their rounds. The portraits were softly sleeping in their frames, and the few that opened their eyes to glance about saw nothing.The Department of Mysteries was only a day behind them, and the world was still recoiling. Harry had escaped the clutches of Madame Pomfrey, and was wandering wordlessly through the halls. He had seen no one and heard nothing save the occasional creak of a stair for more than an hour. His steps were slowing as exhaustion permeated his body.

He never stopped.

As he walked, his fingers trailed along the edge of the stones, partly for support, and partly for the comfort that the school offered him. He would have cried as he walked—he wanted to—but he had done almost nothing else for the last few hours, and there was nothing left. So, he walked.
His fingers grazed across tapestries and railings, pattered over picture frames and tables, hesitated over handles and doors. Finally, as he walked through the lowest levels of the school, his fingers danced over the image of a pear.

He had already continued, but the giggle turned his head. Cautiously, he glanced behind him, then stepped inside. Even the houselves were sleeping. Harry filled a glass with cold water from the pitcher and sat at the squat replica table. With unfocused eyes he surveyed the room disinterestedly, and stopped on a glint of silver beneath a dish towel. The small knife was well-sharpened and clean, and fit neatly in his hand; he ran the blunt edge over his fingers and hand. It was an icy relief no matter what part of his skin it touched.

Harry closed his eyes, thinking of Sirius. His hand tightened abruptly, and the point of the blade nicked his ring finger. The blossom of blood grew, then dripped. He laughed softly, drank his water, and changed his grip on the knife’s handle. Then he paused, and stared at it in the candlelight.

Seconds turned into minutes and Harry had not moved. He just stared, thinking.

Then, without prelude or class Professor Severus Snape asked, “Plan on getting on with it? Or are you going to dawdle Potter?” Harry closed his eyes again and braced the blade against his wrist. “If you are planning to go through with it, I assume you’ve considered the consequences. Or are you being your normal, disrespectful self?”

“What does it matter to you?”

“It doesn’t.”

“Then why are you here, sir?” He spun the blade once or twice then placed it next to his wrist again, an ironic grin hinting at the corners of his mouth.

“To watch.” Harry still had not turned around. He still sat at the shrunken table staring at the glow of the blade in the light. He still wanted to press it further. After a few minutes of silence, Severus spoke again, “Well, get on with it then Potter. If you’re such a failure at life, you may as well end it. You won’t have to suffer and we won’t have to listen to you complain all the time. It would be good for everyone.”

Harry jerked slightly, and pressed harder. Any movement would open the skin. He was balancing between tears and hysteria.

“Do it Potter. Do it, Do it now. I won’t stop you anymore, I won’t keep you from doing this. It annoyed you so much your first year, did it not Potter?”

He lifted his head, moved his arm and smiled bitterly. “I’m sorry, Professor. I can’t.” Harry heard a sharp breath drawn, and a moment later he opened his wrist. He closed his eyes, and looked to the expected bloom of crimson spilling over his palm. There was none.

“It isn’t working is it, Potter?”

“No.” He brushed his hand against the gash and flinched. “Why don’t I bleed?”

Snape walked slowly around the kitchen edge and sat opposite him. He tapped Harry’s wrist with his wand. The wound closed. Snape took a breath and answered, “Because of me.”

Bellatrix stumbled back from the broken man lying on the stone floor the second she saw his eyes. In her decades of working for the Dark Lord she had never seen the power—raw and uncontrollable—that she saw in his eyes. He was catatonic, and convulsions wracking his body, which was arched unnaturally.

He moaned and she could feel the wave of power roll from him.

Professor Snape was screaming at he Order, begging them to help him save Harry when three of them froze, closed their eyes and fell out of their chairs.He stopped, taking deep breaths, thinking faster than he ever had before.

Then, without warning, he sprinted from the room.

“What the bloody hell do you mean you knew?”“I knew you would try to kill yourself Potter. I had no choice but to prevent it.”

“You said you wouldn’t stop me! I wanted to Die!” Harry was screaming, throwing his arms about, lost between tears and anger. “What did you do to me?”

“You drank a glass of water. Earlier this evening I added a potion to it. In a few hours these effects will wear off and then you’ll be able to kill yourself if you want Harry. I’m hoping that your incident tonight will have eradicated that urge, however, if you still cannot find the motivation to live you are useless and may as well kill yourself.”

“I can’t keep fighting.”

“Yes you can Harry, and you will.”

“Stop calling me that, you don’t have the right! You hate me! Why can’t you just hate me for everything I’ve done! You Bastard! Just hate me!”

Severus refused to move, he just sat and watched as Harry exhausted his rage and terror. When he had, Severus paused, sneered, and answered him, “No. It isn’t your right to tell me who to hate. At the moment I have no reason to hate you aside from the idea that you’re spineless, a coward and too pathetic to be willing to obey what destiny has declared for you.”

“Then hate me, please, let me have that, I just can’t fight anymore. Please no. Not again. I’ll kill them. I can’t help it. I don’t them to die. It can’t be my fault anymore. It can’t. I can’t stand it.”

“No Potter. You won’t kill them. You will survive. You will defeat him. Others may die, but if so it is necessary and not your fault. Do you know what will happen if you just surrender? Do you know how many countless thousands will be killed, or tortured or driven to insanity? Without you at the front of our battles, our side will have no hope. Yes, it is quite possible that you will die a painful and horrid death. It is more likely that you will be tortured to insanity and paraded around the new order that the Dark Lord will create. He will make this world into a nightmare beyond your comprehension and you will be, for the first time in your life, responsible for the dead. So, Potter, you have to fight. And I don’t particularly care if you don’t want to, but you need to come to grips with that, and there is no time to waste.”

Harry stood up silently and without a reaction or an answer, left.

Professor Snape forced a potion down Remus’ throat and waited. A few minutes later, coughing and choking, Remus woke. He rolled off the bed and gasped, “What—what was—?”“Suffice to know that it was a potion. You are not dead. Now get up, we have work to do.”

“Ashanel?” Remus used the bed to force himself to his feet. He reached for his wand and found nothing. Severus was silent, but helped him remain standing, and helped him from the room as he explained.

“I had not known what was happening until only recently. The Dark Lord has Harry. We have to get him back. He has been incapacitated.”

“Is it over then?”

“Yes.”

Remus nodded, and they continued to walk in silence.

Remus Lupin was sobbing alone in a dark room.The moon was only a few hours away and he knew it. He was always more emotional just before a transformation, and knew it. Sometimes he could control himself. This time he couldn’t.

He had lost the last of his friends and then lost his last connection to them. Sirius was dead. Even if rumors of secret love affairs between them had been false, losing him was too much to bear. Harry was missing. The boy who lived, and who would be called on to save the world again could be dead. According to Severus, it was possible that Harry had killed himself.

If that was true, there was no point anymore. The war was over. Voldemort had won. Remus shuddered at the thought. A few seconds later his sobs resumed. He wished there was any other place for him to shelter during the full moon, but knew there was nothing. He would have to last the night in the Shrieking Shack, drowning in the memories of his blissful youth with his incredible companions.

He closed the locks around his wrists and ankles, preparing for the ordeal ahead when he heard a faint noise in the corner. The door opened and Harry walked inside.

Remus thanked God and tried to reach him, but, restrained as he was, could not. Harry made no effort to move to him.

A few silent moments passed and Remus began to wonder if he was staring at a ghost. But, eventually Harry asked, “How do you do it?”

“Do what?” Remus’ voice was scratchy and hollow, but seemed vivid in comparison with Harry’s.

“How do you keep fighting month after month. Even after you’ve lost everyone, you never stop. How do you keep going with death and suffering laid at your feet? How do you forgive yourself of the little crimes committed in an effort to avert the larger ones? How do you…How do you keep going?” The desperation was evident in his cracked voice. He was trying so hard to be strong that it was torturing him.

“I don’t try. I just know that I have to. I have to do it for my friends.”

“But just by my existing, living, my friends are put in danger. As long as I’m alive, they won’t be safe. My friends won’t be safe. I can’t live with that.”

“If you die, they’ll die.” Remus shouted; the pains were starting early.

“I’m not strong enough.”

“You have to be.” Remus managed one last phrase before the transformation began. “Run Harry.”

So Harry did.

He vanished again, hiding in an unknown sanctuary and thinking. After a few days he went to the Department of Mysteries and stood in front of the Veil. It whispered to him. Softly, sweetly, kindly. It was an old friend beckoning to him. He thought he heard Sirius.

“I don’t have the energy, Professor.” Harry said softly over the edge of his tea. “I don’t. I’m strong, but I’m not strong enough. I need your help, sirs.”“Help with what, Harry?” Remus asked.

“I believe I have a theory, if you don’t mind my interruption, Potter.” Snape said smoothly. Harry gestured in encouragement. “If I have understood your overtones properly, you have succeeded in analyzing your life and future. You have found your greatest weakness, the thing that will put your success at risk. You have also, likely, found a spell that will help you, or you would not have mentioned needing our energy. It is probably some type of continuous drain which you know you cannot support alone. You are asking us to bear the burden for you.”

“Very good sir, but not a complete answer, I will have to deduct points.” Harry said, the edge of his mouth twitching. All three men recognized the glimpse of Harry as he was—and as he would be again. They recognized that since leaving the Shrieking Shack, he had grown up. “Perhaps you would like a try Remus?”

“No thank you Harry. The matter is too pressing to waste time with speculation.” Remus was leaning forward in his chair, his cooling tea forgotten on the table. His eyes were worried and wrinkled.

Harry nodded and began. “Professor, what you said was true. I looked at my life and I found my weakness. I am too dedicated to my friends. I’m too defensive of them. If they are hurt, I will be useless or predictable, both of which Voldemort has tried to exploit. My friends are already being targeted by him. They are in danger as long as they are close to me. I can’t let them get hurt. So, I need to push them away—force them away.”

“They love you too much Harry.” Remus said shortly.

“I know. Underneath their hostility and mistrust and dislike of me these recent months, they are very loyal. Especially my friends. I need to break them of that. At any cost.” He lifter a heavy tome onto his lap and continued, “I found a spell that can do everything I need it to. It is an inverse trust spell. It creates a small seed of doubt and distrust that grows without their knowing it. It will become stronger naturally but the growth is augmented by acts which are completed by the focus: me.”

“How many can it affect Potter? Changing a dozen minds isn’t enough.” Snape asked, both interested and concerned.

Harry averted his eyes, nervous. “It affects everyone who is not part of the spell.”

“Everyone?” Snape said slowly. “It’s impossible. It would kill us to drain that much energy. I know you’re suicidal Potter, but there is no reason to kill us as well.”

“It won’t Dammit!” Harry yelled. “Do you think I’m so stupid to kill myself before I fight Voldemort now? Now that I know what’s at stake and how desperate we are? Did you think I’d forgotten? Yes, I want to die, more than anything, but I can’t and I know that. I researched this spell sir, I know this spell. I’ve been gone almost two weeks, all I’ve done is think and work and learn. It will work, just let me explain.” His anger collapsed again. He had told the truth about doing nothing but work. He had barely eaten, and had barely slept. “The spell doesn’t even have a name that I can find. And it won’t kill us. It is based on my energy, yours only maintains it. The casting of the spell is done in two parts. The first is a potion, which I drink, four days before the second casting. It changes my energy structure so that I will be more resilient to the strain. My energy will create the myth that the world will eventually believe. Yours will perpetuate it. There are a few people who will be naturally resilient, but not enough to matter. There is one problem though, once the spell has been cast it will change my memories to justify the events. I will have no idea what is happening or why. New memories will replace what we are discussing now, and my view of my past, along with the world’s view of my past will be twisted to make it more appropriate to the new reality. Likely, everything since I woke up in the hospital wing will be rewritten. I will be in very great danger of losing myself in the myth, and losing my ability to break the spell when necessary.

“That necessary time will be triggered by something we specify. It can be a date or an event. However, because we cannot predict when an event will occur, the myth will grow stronger and stronger. The longer it continues, the more painful it will be when it finally breaks. I have to forget everything because when I remember, the spell will undo itself. The energy I was supporting will collapse and I will have to retake it. The longer the spell lasts, the more energy there will be. I have decided what the trigger will be already, no, you don’t need to know what it is, yet.

“The initial potion is easy to brew. I began it when I returned to the school this morning, and I’ll be able to drink it tonight. Since everything I will learn over the next four days will be lost from my conscious mind, I will be taking a second potion once it is finished brewing. It will allow me, with your permission, to learn what you can teach me faster than I could without it. That way, I will have latent knowledge which will be able to seep into my actions, so that when I finally remember, I will already be trained. I will be moody, and prone to abrupt switches in attitude, depending on which side—the truth or the myth—is stronger at the time. I will almost seem insane until the spell finishes. I know the plan is dangerous, but it will work.”

The room was silent as the two men stared, disbelieving at the man before them. Harry was mature, rationale, and intelligent as he explained his plan. It was a sign of how much losing Sirius had changed him.
Remus crossed to the wall, retrieving a flask of alcohol. Snape took the spellbook from Harry’s lap and began reading. Harry finished his tea. A part of his mind already knew that they would agree.

Within a few minutes, they had.

Harry took the first potion that night, and blacked out. The school at large assumed he was still mourning, and allowed that belief to spread. He spent his days with the two older men. The first day was spent brewing the Learning potion. It was a vile substance that reeked of rotting meat, and tasted even worse. The final ingredient of the potion was a drop of the blood of the person whose knowledge was to be shared. It only made the taste worse.After taking the three draughts—one for energy, one for Remus, and one for Snape, he was able to begin learning.

The experience was more painful for Harry than for either Order member. They were only lowering Occulemency wards around their knowledge of war magic. Harry had to absorb everything they knew of theoretical magic and in experience. It was a torture learning from both men; Remus’ mind was able to teach him more about resisting pain then he knew existed, he learned how to heal, how to defend, and how to defeat numerous dark creatures. Severus—after prowling through the professor’s mind it was hard to call him Snape—taught him attacks, taught him pain infliction, taught him mental protection.

He blacked out after every stretch of study.

He woke up each time with a growing headache.

Harry paused only long enough to take a few hours to speak with the newly awoken friends. Ron and Hermione were afraid to press him when he was distant and cold towards them. He said all the right words, but had little emotion behind them. They eventually fell back to sleep, and Harry vanished, returning to Severus’s chambers, for more sessions. It was then that he encountered the theoretical explanation of wandless magic. The professor had investigated it working for Voldemort in the first war, and Harry had a larger headache than usual when he was done.

In the last day of learning he encountered only theoretical information, having already learned everything that the pair had done in war.

At dinner, he explained the procedures for the second half of the spell. “Remus, you and Severus will need to cast the spell together. Then the focus is put onto the stone, along with the written cue to break the spell and names of those to receive the strongest magic. I have those pieces already. My blood will seal the casting. I will lose consciousness for a few hours. Do not wake me. You will have to return me to the Hospital Wing without Madame Pomfrey knowing or noticing. When I wake up the world will be…new. I will have no recollection of any of this, but I may have some subliminal tendencies. Severus, I will be more willing to trust you for instance. Every four weeks the spell will have to be renewed. It is done with the incantation in the book, and the addition of more potion to the focus stone. You will also need to prevent me from correcting this. I will want to regain their loyalty. At all costs you must prevent that. I do not know what will happen to change the world’s opinion, so I cannot predict how I will respond. I am certain that there will be unforeseen effects. I can only hope that I will forgive myself for them. Also, names can be added if they begin to slip from the spell’s hold, if you feel they need to be stopped. The spell will begin to deteriorate after four weeks, and will collapse after six, so if you run late it is not fatal, but do not let it fail. The effects would be disastrous.”

“Who will it focus on?” Severus asked.

“Ron. Hermione. Ginny. The Headmaster. Fudge. Skeeter. Madame Bones. McGonagall. They are all loyal to me now, so will need to be firmly against me once this begins. And of course, the two of you will need to be loud proponents of my guilt to avoid suspicion.”

“And the cue?”

“Do you really need to know Severus?”

“We are about to cast the most complex spell I have ever encountered, I believe honesty would be of great assistance.”

Harry nodded. “It will finish when I am in a situation I cannot bear.”

“And what does that mean?”

Harry smiled, “I have no idea. It will work though. And better than if I were to name a specific event. I had contemplated making it a matter of my facing Voldemort, but since I will be incapacitated, I do not want to be facing him when I drop into agony.”

They objected, and spent more than an hour fighting him on his choice, but eventually conceded that any other wording of any other event carried too many flaws. The ambiguity itself would ensure its strength.

Late that night, while the school was silent, the trio stood in a hidden room in Severus’ chambers and cast the spell. It went smoothly, and as they uttered the last words, Harry’s eyes rolled into his head and he fell to the ground. Magic exploded out of him, flying outward, covering the world within seconds, and changing it.

Harry’s entire body was taut, his eyes were wide and his silent scream conveyed the pain he was in. He knew that Bellatrix had run from the room. The spell had fallen, and he was retaking the energy he had been expending for almost a year in creating it.The year’s events were beginning to fall into order. They began to make sense.

Even with his pain, he was relieved to know why the world had turned so suddenly. He was understanding things too fast to focus on them. Neville had slipped from the spell, and been added to the list. Oliver Wood, Draco Malfoy and the older Weasley’s were left off the list, because they were useful and strong enough to warrant the risk. The comments his friends had made were explained. The actions of those who had been most loyal to him were logical. The abrupt willingness of the world to hate him without cause was clear.

His scream became verbal, and it echoed down the halls of Voldemort’s dungeons.

Slowly it faded, and Harry went silent.

And still.

The select group that had remained loyal to Harry throughout the hellish year had come together in the Shrieking Shack to organize a rescue. None of them had any notion of how to front a large scale assault against the most powerful dark wizard in the world, especially since they had no support as of yet. Remus and Severus explained the basics of what Harry had done in a terse, clipped tone. They detailed why the world had abruptly changed, and changed back again. They avoided the reasons why the group had remained free of the spell. Once they were done, and they knew what had to be done, Draco began listing information as fast as he could, hoping to provide something of use. Both he and Severus would have to remain behind during any rescue attempt, they could not risk endangering their positions within the Dark Lord’s ranks.

After less than an hour, Bill, the Weasley twins, Oliver and Remus left to search for Voldemort. Neither Draco nor Severus was capable of telling the team where the keep was located, but was able to give enough information to help.Draco returned to Hogwarts, separate from Severus, to wait. He fell into a chair in the Slytherin Common room, defeated.

He barely understood what Severus and Remus had explained to him. That Harry had done this to himself was beyond his Slytherin mind. The story had been told in haste, and he wanted to ask more of Harry, but doubted whether he would ever have the chance. In the hands of the Dark Lord, incapacitated and in a world that had only hours earlier learned the truth behind their actions, Harry would more than likely be dead in a few hours if he was not already.

Ginny came in eventually, looking calmer than any other student and slipped into his arms. They waited.