The life of the dead is retained in the memory of the living
+ + + + +
It was no lie that this was the day that Harry Potter had been dreading the most. The Memorial has always been within the back of his mind and he tried his best not to overthink it, but now that the day was finally here, he wanted nothing more than to stay in bed in self-pity. He felt extremely nauseated at the prospect of seeing everyone there, along with the families of the victims now passed. To see the somber faces of his classmates, teachers, and families were too much for Harry to cope with.
How could he face them? All of them?
His Gryffindor bravery, of all days, became nothing more than a mere wish. He barely had the strength to pull himself out of bed and face the difficult day, but now he felt like a coward.
...The Boy Who Lived, wishes he didn't.
Harry knew deep down that he shouldn't blame himself. It was their choice to fight. And yet still, Harry would still carry that guilt and continue to do so for the rest of his life. How can he live on when many of them died to keep him alive? How can he live on when so many died defending Hogwarts against Voldemort's onslaught where Harry was hunting for the final Horcrux'? Not that he felt selfish about it – it was a war, regardless of his supposed destiny. Since being marked as the Chosen One, it was a pressure that no child should ever have to bear the weight of. And that alone drove his mind into chaos. It was too much on his consciousness that morning. And every other day that grimly passed by since the Battle of Hogwarts.
It didn't feel like a victory. Yes, Voldemort has since been defeated. But he still didn't feel like he won. He lost. He lost so much.
Harry ran to the bathroom to throw up early that morning upon first light, with Ginny dashing after him with concern. He felt humiliated. Defeated. The Boy Who Lived, throwing up in a rising panic with Ginny trying her best to soothingly rub circles on his back. Even she was at a loss for what to do. Eventually, she ran downstairs to see Snape and managed to obtain an anti-nausea potion from him. Snape must have anticipated this as he handed the vial to her without hearing the rest of her plea, knowing very well the Gryffindor was struggling upstairs. Harry didn't even question the vial, as he downed the contents immediately not caring exactly what was in. Eventually, once his nausea subsided ever so slightly, Harry got himself cleaned up and wandered back to his room, watching the clock tick by until it was time to go. Ginny sat with him for a while in silence, each holding the other's hand and wishing for this day to finally be over.
After what seemed like an eternity of waiting, Snape wandered upstairs towards the pair adorned in his formal suit, reminding Harry of the one he wore at the Yule Ball in his fourth year. After spending so much time recently with the Potions Master, Harry realised the man actually did have a variety of suits and did not have the same identical set of robes as he originally presumed. The man could attend in his pajamas today and no one would know, as he'll be the lucky one utilizing the Invisibility Cloak. Harry noticed he took a little extra care with his appearance today. His suit was un-wrinkled and neat. Lanky, raven hair in an oddly manageable degree hanging just atop his slumped shoulders. His face looked less pale today and his dressing was carefully concealed on his neck tucked behind his favorite black cravat. Harry couldn't even believe that he is noticing Snape's favorite things now. Not a revelation he ever dreamed of having, but it provided Harry with some sense of normalcy prior to the service they were about to endure.
As of that night, the man would need to begin his two-day cleanse as per the incantation, so that was another worry seeping into Harry's mind.
Once Snape made it to Harry's room, slightly breathless by the exertion of the several flights of stairs, he interrupted and pierced the quietness with his baritone voice, "…Time to leave."
Reaching for the Cloak hanging up beside his bed, he stood up and handed it to Snape, "…Lucky you."
As Snape took the Cloak from the Gryffindor, he tucked it under his arm neatly, observing Harry's sorrowful expression. Upon a slight pause, he continued, "I know you don't want to go, Potter."
"Neither do you, sir."
Snape sighed, "Just another task we must overcome. Let's get this over with, shall we?"
Harry nodded, as Ginny walked up beside him.
Snape turned to the youngest Weasley, "Miss Weasley, wait for us in the corridor downstairs if you will? We will be there shortly."
Giving Harry's hand a quick squeeze, she nodded, "Okay, Professor." With one quick reassuring look to Harry, she turned on her heel and made her way back downstairs.
Snape took a small step forward towards him and leaned forward, observing the bruise across Harry's jaw, which had now turned a light yellow. "…Have you been using the salve?"
Reaching for his jaw, Harry instinctively touched the tender spot, "Yeah, I applied more this morning."
Snape furrowed his brow, apologetically opening his mouth to speak, but Harry cut him off.
"- I know, sir. I'm not blaming you. I know it was an accident," The Professor looked relieved by that response, but Harry could tell that he still felt terrible about the accident. "Look, I just wanted to let you know…That Mark doesn't define who you are. No matter what Arthur said to you yesterday. You're no longer that person anymore."
A breath caught in Snape's throat, thrown off guard by Harry's words. The man clasped his hand over where the Dark Mark was etched upon his skin, "I suppose we both have scars that we cannot erase. Your scar marked you as the Dark Lord's chosen slayer. Mine…"
"…Is a reminder of what you fought against. You mustn't forget that."
Snape stared at Harry, unsure of how much of that he was willing to believe. He wanted nothing more than to protest that sentiment – as much as Harry tried to be genuine – but he figured that it was not the time for such things. Snape also felt guilty about the loss of those innocent lives. The students, that he swore to protect. He simply couldn't do enough.
Instead, Snape cut the conversation short, "…We must leave. "
Swallowing the rising distaste within his mouth, Harry nodded. Upon noticing Harry's sullen mood, Snape solemnly extended his hand and rested it upon Harry's shoulder, squeezing gently. For a moment Harry closed his eyes, appreciative of that small comfort. He didn't recoil or tense up. It felt…normal. It was strange how things progressed. After what they had both endured, each surviving their expected demise, it seemed to further fuel that connection between them. Harry didn't really know what to call this – relationship – yet. They had a mutual understanding, that was now certain. In some ways, Harry still saw him as a mentor, but even now, he saw this man as an equal. Allies, definitely. It wasn't even a friendship, not in the way Harry would presume. It was a…mutual respect. Yes, at times they still didn't see eye-to-eye. But at least now, they were able to be more reasonable with each other. Each understood what the other needed, and in a way, it came as a welcome relief to the Gryffindor.
After losing so many of the adults in his life, this unexpected connection was one that he never knew he needed.
Harry finally opened his green eyes, meeting Snape's black ones briefly. Giving the man a defiant single nod, Harry turned to leave the room with Snape closely behind.
They disapparated away from Grimmauld Place and reappeared close to the Hogwarts greenhouses, giving Snape a decent distance away from potential onlookers. Once Snape threw the Invisibility Cloak over himself, Harry listened as Snape's footsteps trailed off into the distance to join the Memorial in secret. Harry felt bad that he had to do that, and he wished there was another way, but showing his face now would not bode well for him. Especially due to the attending Aurors, that was not a risk either of them was willing to take.
Harry and Ginny made the somber walk to the Great Lake, hands entwined with each other. As they drew nearer to the location, they began to see more and more people among the wizarding community join the rest of the masses. Harry's heart began to race and cursed himself for destroying Snape's calming potion the previous morning due to his own irrational stupidity. Instead, he only hoped the anti-nausea potion he consumed earlier would subdue his stomach long enough until this was all over. Not that Harry had much left in his stomach due to his poor appetite in the last few days.
It was a cloudy, early Summer day. Mildly breezy, but gentle enough not to pose a problem. The white, fluffy clouds overlapped the few grey ones, as they cast clear reflections upon the Great Lake. A small clearing was made way for all the attendees, but as Harry and Ginny rounded the hill, they could see the extent of the service that was about to take place. In the distance, Albus Dumbledore's white marble tomb glistened in the sunlight upon its resting place on the center island of the Great Lake. As if the losses weren't already too much to deal with.
Before the water's edge, was a large, marble-white monument. Specifically, a small obelisk, not much taller than Hagrid. Perched atop of the obelisk, was a marble statue shaped like a phoenix adorned with gold embellishments, with wings outstretched. The impressive statue seemed to glow within the midday sun. Hovering above the phoenix, was an empty silver ornate bowl, further sparking Harry's curiosity. Engraved upon the surface of the obelisk, were the names of all those who lost their lives on the day of the Battle of Hogwarts. Besides the monument, was a small stage with a podium, with a small tapestry over the front, emblazoned with the Hogwarts emblem. On one side of the stage were multiple chairs, where many Ministry officials were seated. In front of the podium, were what looked like hundreds of white chairs arranged neatly, with an aisle space in the center. Already half of those were filled with adults and students alike. On one side he could see Firenze and his fellow centaurs, engaging respectfully in conversation with Hagrid. In the front row, he recognised some of the Hogwarts faculty already perched and sat silently awaiting the service to begin.
As Harry and Ginny approached the chairs, they turned to find Hermione calling his name.
"Not so loud Hermione. I was kind of hoping to sneak in without drawing attention," Harry lowered his voice.
Hermione's eyes widened, "Oh, I'm sorry…Ron has saved us some seats around the middle – Harry what happened to your face?"
It took Harry a few seconds to realise that she was talking about the bruise along his jaw, "Oh, that. Oh, err – "
"Dad and Snape had a massive fight yesterday," Ginny whispered, "It was horrendous. Dad threw in a punch and it got pretty nasty…Poor Harry tried to intervene."
Hermione was aghast, "Oh my – "
"- Let's just say, it'll be wise to keep them separated for now," Harry winced.
Eventually, the three of them wandered toward where Ron was waiting for them and joined them as they occupied the empty seats. Neville and Luna were seated a row behind them, and Harry noticed the rest of the Weasleys seated several rows forward, with George sitting beside Angelina. Much to Harry's surprise, Charlie Weasley had also joined his family in paying respects to the fallen. Everywhere Harry looked, were familiar faces. Not just of the DA, but the remainder of his classmates from each House. He noticed that there were only a few Slytherins present – Harry knew that not all the Slytherins had fought against them, so the ones that did fight by Harry's side, sat nervously within the back rows. Many students were present, ranging from the current first-years to those seventh years who had to endure the Dark Year – as Ginny grimly put it. Many students and their accompanied family members took up most of the seating.
As the time clicked closer to midday, all the seats were filled, and Harry noticed Kingsley making his way toward the podium. Adorned in his usual turquoise and purple robes, he pulled out his wand and pointed it toward his throat, casting a charm to amplify his voice.
"If I could have your immediate attention, please. Once you have all found your seats, I must reassure you that this space is well-protected. Aurors, you may proceed – " The Minster addressed the crowd, as a few wayward guests immediately scrambled to their seats, and it wasn't until they were completely seated did Harry notice the Aurors stationed around them. He knew he shouldn't feel uncomfortable, but given what had happened at Godric's Hollow, it made him feel slightly uneasy. Ginny immediately clasped his hand and he knew she felt the same. He still couldn't completely trust them.
One by one the stationed Aurors raised their wands and began to cast an assortment of shield charms, as a white ethereal barrier formed a bubble around them. Harry understood the precautions, but as McGonagall said, the Death Eaters would be utterly senseless to attack them all here and now.
Minister Kingsley cleared his throat, "It is with a heavy heart that I, Minister Kingsley Shacklebolt, lead the remembrance to celebrate our fallen brothers and sisters…Students and teachers…Family and friends. For all beings, human and creature, who fought valiantly and with immense bravery on the second of May – a month to this day - to protect this school and overthrow the greatest threat to our lives. It was a dark day for anyone present at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, and for those who upheld their values and morals to fight for the cause on that day, your efforts will never go unnoticed. Furthermore, today is the day we pay our deepest respects to the Fallen, and collectively mourn those that are no longer with us. We will honor their memory, now and always."
The Minister outstretched his hand towards the monument beside him, "In respect to those who lost their lives fighting alongside their allies, friends, and family…This monument stands erected as a permanent display of their noble sacrifices." Pointing his wand at the silver ornate bowl hovering just above the marble phoenix, a blue flame erupted within its center, burning brightly and magnificently. It reminded Harry of Hermione's bluebell flames charm, which she favored. "I ignite this eternal flame as a symbol of their memory. This flame can never be extinguished, as of the imprints on our hearts our Fallen have bestowed upon us." He turned back to the podium, "Now, I would like to invite the Hogwarts Headmistress Minerva McGonagall to say a few words before we proceed…"
There was an almost suffocating silence, as McGonagall rose slowly from her chair in the front row, wearing her formal black robes and black pointed hat. Amongst the silence, the other sounds that were heard were the gentle lapping of the lake's water against the earth, and the sobs that escaped multiple seated attendees upon the Minister's opening speech. As McGonagall reached the podium, Harry noticed a grey handkerchief clasped tightly in her left hand.
"Thank you Minister for the lovely sentiment – " McGonagall paused for a few moments to compose herself, overwhelmed by the grieving crowd before her. Her aged face was incredibly saddened, which caused Harry's heart to sink further within his chest, "Never in all my years within the service of Hogwarts, did I ever imagine being up here, addressing all those we lost on that day. A great evil, now, which has finally been vanquished. And we will never speak of his name again. Not out of fear now, but because his name tarnishes against the souls we lost. No – We will speak of the Fallen with honor and dignity. Their deaths are not in vain." McGonagall paused, as she was clearly overcome by grief, "These losses have devastated us all. No doubt, moving forward seems like an impossible feat. But as Hogwarts was able to be rebuilt and restored, so will we."
McGonagall turned to the Minister, as they swapped places at the podium. Kingsley further addressed them of the proceedings, which involved the Ministry committee in stating each name of the Fallen. Harry turned to Ginny beside him and noticed tear tracks down her freckled cheeks. He squeezed her hand, bringing her back to the present. This day was difficult for everyone.
All Harry could think about was his nightmare from a few nights ago. All those faces of the dead, further taunting him and blaming him for their deaths. Their faces flashed before his eyes and Harry tried his best to think of the Quidditch match Snape had brought forth within his mind for him. It seemed silly to think of something as mundane as a Quidditch match while they were all here sitting at the Memorial for his dead allies and classmates, but it was all he could do to keep his tears from exploding like a burst dam again. He turned to Hermione beside Ginny, who had her head resting on Ron's shoulder. Her hand clutched a fistful of tissues.
"…Sally-Ann Perks…Alicia Spinnet…Patricia Stimpson…"
Each Ministry Official stood up to read the names of those who were lost. Harry could barely focus on the remainder of the service because each name called was like a punch in the gut. Each name – each life – was lost in this fight that should never have happened. Perhaps if Harry gave himself up earlier, they would have stood a better chance. He could have saved more lives…
"…Colin Creevey…Anthony Goldstein…Jimmy Peakes…"
But it was not possible. If Harry had known earlier that his own death would result in Voldemort's demise, then he would have tried that earlier. He couldn't have known. There was no way of knowing…
"…Lavender Brown…Earnie Macmillan…Megan Jones…"
And yet, Snape tried to contact him earlier that day. But Harry allowed the other teachers to cast him from the grounds, not knowing any different. He should have done more…
"…Michael Corner…Lisa Turpin…Fred Weasley…"
Oh, Fred. This should never have happened. If only Dumbledore told him about the Horcrux within him far earlier, then they would have been able to find a better solution. Did he believe that Harry would be cowardly and not do the deed when the time came? Harry couldn't help but think of all the things that could have worked alternatively.
"…Mandy Brocklehurst…Stewart Ackerley…Terrence Higgs…"
If only Snape had contacted him earlier and told him what needed to be done. Regrettably, he knew Snape was just as left in the dark with the entire plan more than Harry was. Dumbledore told Harry to trust Snape, but he didn't. He couldn't. But Dumbledore should have found another way. Dumbledore should have come up with a better plan. They could have all prevented this…
"…Professor Remus Lupin…Nymphadora Tonks…Desmond O'Halloran…"
Harry wanted to vomit.
Eventually, the Ministry officials concluded the long list of names of all the Fallen, and each name called was another blow to Harry's conscious. At this point within the service, there were many who sobbed with anguished cries, and in a few incidences, some attendees had to be escorted away because they were hysterical. And he was sure one of them was Molly Weasley guided from her seat by George. At this point, Harry finally allowed a few of his own tears to fall.
It hurt too much. He just wanted to go home.
As if he didn't feel terrible enough, one of the sixth-year Hufflepuffs he recognised stood up to the podium and recited a text, undoubtedly concluding the service, "…If I be the first of us to die, Let grief not blacken long your sky. Be bold yet modest in your grieving, there is a change but not a leaving...When you walk the wood where once we walked together, and scan in vain the dappled bank beside you for my shadow. Or pause where we always did upon the hill to gaze across the land, and spotting something, reach by habit for my hand…And finding none, feel sorrow start to steal upon you…Close your eyes. Listen for my footfall in your heart. I am not gone but merely walk within you..."
By this point, there was most certainly not a dry eye among the crowd. For those that managed to compose themselves enough, one by one, some of the attendees made their way to the monument to conjure wreaths of rosemary – a herb symbolic of memory. As soon as the centaurs released their arrows of honor into the now-summer sky, the seats began to gradually empty as the attendees turned to leave. Many of them lingered to embrace one another, but most were too emotionally distraught to stick around. Some of the students – undoubtedly close friends with the Fallen – sat at the base of the monument in tears. Harry was feeling incredibly uncomfortable.
Eventually, they all began to depart. Harry noticed McGonagall hastily try to brush away her own tears in the first row, but she was comforted by Professor Trelawny. Hagrid was weeping and Harry saw him shudder with each escaped sob. Most of the Ministry officials turned to leave, with two staying behind with Minister Kingsley. The Aurors stationed remained behind to make sure people could apparate safely away.
Harry and his friends remained seated, unable to gather the courage to leave. He stared transfixed at the blue flames flickering atop of the marble phoenix, wishing above all else, that he could bring them all back. His stomach twisted in knots, sickened by the rising helplessness within him.
It was just far too many losses.
Neville, who was sitting with his grandmother, had walked up to the monument and stood in silence. Taking that opportunity, Harry slowly rose from his seat and made his way towards him, trying his best to ignore the stares upon the Boy-Who-Lived. Sure, they labeled him a hero. But Harry did not think of such things of himself. He was far from a hero and didn't deserve such a pompous title. He was no hero when he couldn't save the lives that were lost.
Harry cautiously walked up to Neville, standing side-by-side with his friend. Together, they stood in silence, both reading the names of the Fallen inscribed upon the marble.
Neville quietly broke the silence, "…Hard to believe, isn't it?"
"Yeah," Harry lowered his voice, almost feeling unworthy of speaking, "Are you considering going back?"
Neville turned to Harry, "To Hogwarts? McGonagall told me that she'll accept seventh years if they wish to return again, but she also mentioned that we can come back and re-take our electives for whatever career we choose to pursue."
"That's good. So, I suppose you could have, say, a half year?"
"Basically, yeah. What about you?"
Harry paused to ponder, "I'm still thinking about it. I'd have to sit the full year, but I actually wouldn't mind pursuing teaching there in the future."
Neville's face lit up, "Really? Who knows, we could both end up colleagues!"
"Shhh, not so loud Neville. It's not definite yet. McGonagall offered for me to teach Defence Against the Dark Arts, but I want to spend some time helping Kingsley with our Death Eater problem. I don't think I want to be an official Auror. Settling with something a little more normal seems rather…welcoming. After everything. Plus, teaching allows me to, well…give back, somehow."
Neville smiled at Harry, "Seems like you have it planned out."
Harry shrugged, "I'm sure I'll have a proper answer eventually. It's just an idea, really."
"You'll be a great teacher, Harry. Being at Hogwarts would be good for you, I think," Neville's eyes darted over Harry's shoulder, "Time for me to go. I think my gran is getting a little impatient. See you around?"
"Yeah, see you Neville – " Harry turned to see McGonagall walking up to Harry and taking Neville's place beside him. Immediately, the Headmistress wrapped her arm around Harry's shoulder, still clasping her handkerchief tucked within her hand. "Professor, the service was…" Harry frowned, as he paused. What could he possibly say?
Sensing his stumbling words, McGonagall nodded, "…I know, Potter. It was beautiful, though nothing seems to be enough to express that…They are well-honored. Poor Albus tried to calm me in the Headmaster's office earlier, but…How can one honestly prepare themselves for something like this?"
"I-I wish I knew, Professor."
McGonagall lowered her voice, so only Harry could hear, "You know – I tried to talk to Severus to coax him to open up about his illness, but as usual, he was rather…rudely dismissive."
"Doesn't surprise me. He probably doesn't want to worry you. He feels bad enough that I know."
The woman smiled weakly, "Perhaps. He always preferred to carry his own burdens. Has he been…Well, lenient, towards you?"
Harry was stunned by the question, not quite understanding what she meant, "Aside from some disagreements, he is…More tolerable. We've been, well, talking a lot actually. Which is strange considering our previous…misunderstandings."
McGonagall squeezed Harry's shoulder gently in comfort, "I'm very relieved to hear that, Potter. Despite Severus' bitterness, he does have a soft spot somewhere within his depths which I know he chooses to hide. He is capable of empathy, I know because I've seen it, but he chooses to brush it off with that usual snarkiness of his. He despises his own vulnerability, you know. Perhaps now with You-Know-Who gone, maybe he can allow himself to well…feel, again."
"Makes me wonder what he would have been like if the world was kinder to him."
McGonagall smiled, sadly, "I often wonder that, too." She glanced at the marble phoenix perched upon the obelisk, "His name would have been here, you know. Etched amongst the Fallen. I'm glad he survived. That man has endured far too much, as with you, Potter. As fate will have it, the war connected you both, even if it took seven years between you."
"I suppose it did, Professor – " Harry turned his head to find the Minister walking in his direction. McGonagall released her arm from Harry's shoulder and nodded her head in Kingsley's direction.
Minister Kingsley offered Harry a somber smile, "Harry."
"Hi, Kingsley – Any word on Lee Jordon? Or Dean's parents?"
Kingsley shook his head, "Sadly, no word. The Death Eaters are keeping a quiet front for now since the attack on the Quarry, but I fear it won't be long until they strike again. I gather no word on your end either?"
"No, sir. We've been laying low since. Ginny only returned from St. Mungo's a few days ago."
McGonagall looked relieved, "I'm relieved she is doing better."
"I see, " Kingsley lowered his voice, as he leaned closer to Harry, "There is an issue that I'd need to address with you regarding Severus. I'm afraid it's not good news."
Harry frowned, "…What is it?"
Kingsley drew in a deep breath, "He killed two Death Eaters that night, Harry. Whether they were accidental or not, it will not bode well for his defense if he was to be discovered. Multiple witnesses would confirm what they saw."
McGonagall looked alarmingly at Harry.
"It was defensive, sir. One of them was about to use the Killing Curse – "
"I know, Harry. And I know Severus. He wouldn't do it without good reason. But will the other witnesses share your testimony? I'm afraid not. Just – " Kingsley clenched his jaw, "– Make sure whatever he does, does not paint him any darker. I cannot help him when the odds are stacked against him."
Harry swallowed rising distaste within his mouth, "I'll try, sir. Thank you for letting me know."
Kingsley stood up straight and smiled warmly, "You're a good man, Harry. Today was a challenging day, but allow us to move forward a little more positively, alright?"
"Yeah, " Harry watched as the Minister turned on his heel to walk away.
McGonagall turned to Harry, "Please, do try and keep him out of trouble. Contact me for anything, alright, Potter?" The Headmistress reassured as she turned to join the rest of the Hogwarts faculty and make their way back to the school.
Harry was rather worried now about the implications of the murdered Death Eaters by Snape's hand. After all, one of them attempted to use the Killing Curse on him and so they had no choice but to defend themselves in any way possible, even if Snape had to resort to Dark Magic to do so. Unfortunately, that did result in the death of one of the poor victims. Neither one of them was aware of what those barbaric magical cages could do and the thought of that made Harry sick to his stomach.
Now, he couldn't erase that from his mind.
Harry had been spent of all emotional energy that day and decided to head back to Grimmauld Place in his attempt to calm his mind. Ron and Ginny decided to return to the Burrow with the rest of their family to end their heavy day. Molly had offered to Harry to join them, but he kindly declined. He was in no way mentally equipped to deal with the tension with Arthur, so he decided to leave that confrontation for another day. Hermione made a quick stop to check up on the potions brewing within the empty classroom before she decided to head back to her parent's house to spend some time with them. By this point, everyone was too saddened by the memorial service to face anyone again that day. Upon McGonagall's conversation and the Minister's words of warning, Harry just wanted to be home.
Once he left the safe wards of Hogwarts later in the afternoon, Harry apparated back to Grimmauld Place, to find Snape had already arrived before him. He found the man sitting in the kitchen with a steaming mug of tea in his hands. Harry caught the scent of lemon and honey.
"…You're here early sir."
"Actually Potter, you were late – " Snape raised an eyebrow, "– I departed as the service ended. I had no desire to stick around longer than necessary."
Snape looked exhausted. His face was a shade paler than usual and he noticed his eyes had trouble focusing. Harry was doing his best to read the man's expression who appeared rather pensive and solemn. Like Harry, Snape didn't want to be there today, and likely for the same reasons as his own. Perhaps Snape felt just as guilty for the lives lost, knowing he couldn't do anything about it. He wondered what Snape was doing on that day – maybe Voldemort had told him to remain behind, not wanting to lose his important source of intel. He must have felt as entirely as useless as Harry.
Harry cautiously took a seat across from the man, sharing the same grave expression as he. His stomach ached from the constant nauseating feeling all day, and he accidentally let out a small groan in response.
Snape looked at Harry, quizzically.
Harry appeared irked, "Just...Too many things on my mind."
"Well, I would have suggested taking a few drops of the Animo Silentium elixir, but you so carelessly destroyed it."
Harry hung his head, embarrassed, "I know, I'm…sorry. I'll help you brew more – "
Snape sighed heavily as he raised his hand to stop the Gryffindor, "- No matter, Potter. You need food, and rest."
Harry grimaced, "I'd probably just throw that back up, to be honest."
"Then I suggest rest. And do not protest against it, Potter. I don't fancy the clean-up, " Snape frowned deeply.
Nodding in response, Harry wasn't up for arguing against that as he picked himself up from the chair and made his way to his bedroom to rest for the remainder of the afternoon. The day took a lot out of him and he felt so emotionally drained. His heart remained heavy. It was a sad day for everyone.
Harry ended up sleeping through the night uninterrupted – much to his surprise – until he woke up in the late hours of the morning. Lately, he had trouble sleeping any earlier, and when he finally did drift off into slumber, he would awake later than usual. Almost beating Ron in sleeping habits. Half the time, Harry found it difficult to get out of bed. Often he figured that there was no point. He never used to spend so much time in bed but lately, it seemed to be his new normal.
Finally gathering enough energy, he wandered back downstairs to the kitchen to find Kreacher preparing a stack of pancakes for him. He managed to eat half of it until he could tolerate it no more. Harry figured that he'd try to test his appetite, but given his response to the pancakes, it may not have been the wisest choice. Plus, he knew that they'd be enacting the first part of the incantation tomorrow night and knew that Snape had begun fasting. Suddenly, he felt terrible again.
Cutting his meal short, he found Snape in the sitting room reading the Daily Prophet by the fireplace. As neither one of Harry's friends was present, he figured he would join the Professor to kill some time. Otherwise, he may end up crawling back into bed.
"Any exciting news in there?" Harry curled up back in his sofa chair. He was amused by the thought of both he and Snape adopting their own chairs now because it was now becoming quite the odd habit between the pair. The comfort of the sitting room by the fire reminded Harry of the comfort of the Gryffindor common room – though not as good – and Harry was half-tempted to decorate the room in Gryffindor colors. But he knew he would forever earn criticism and snarky remarks from Snape if he dared try it, though Harry was tempted to give that a go sometime just for the self-amusement and reaction from the Slytherin Potions Master.
Without taking his eyes off the newspaper, Snape responded lazily, "If you count some dunderhead smuggling baby Cornish pixies during a quick stop at The Three Broomsticks and releasing them accidentally in his drunken stupor, then perhaps."
Harry snorted in amusement, trying to grasp the image of that scene within his mind, "I didn't realise they were open."
"I'm sure Rosmerta wouldn't waste an opportunity to re-open, so that doesn't surprise me in the slightest, " Snape neatly folded up the newspaper and placed it back onto the table, "There haven't been any new enemy sightings thus far."
Harry looked worried, "That's…concerning."
"Without a doubt, they will be far more meticulous and elusive. They know we are onto them."
Harry paused for a moment, hesitant at first with speaking what was on his mind. But he decided to try asking as it would forever tug at his brain, "Sir? What exactly was that smoke spell you used on that Death Eater at the Quarry that night?"
Snape raised his chin slightly, eyeing the Gryffindor carefully, "Nothing you are required to know, Potter."
Harry shrugged lightly, "I was only curious."
"And often mere curiosity can get you killed. Especially with the likes of you."
"Well, I'd like to know in case a Death Eater wants to use it against me," Harry had to stop himself from smirking, as he found a loophole to the request. Surely Snape couldn't deny this kind of knowledge to a student? Harry was definitely testing his luck. And the man's patience.
Snape huffed under his breath and gave a subtle eye roll. He definitely sensed Harry's cunning, "I will not delve within those details to you."
"Fine. At least be vague?" Harry was feeling extra determined, despite walking a fine line prodding the bull.
"NO."
"I just want to know. Seriously, I'm not going to attempt it, if that's what you are worried about."
That earned a glare from Snape, who shifted to clasp his hands over his lap, eyeing the Gryffindor as he paused to consider the request. "…Very well. It is a curse that can suffocate the unfortunate victim from the inside. Satisfied?"
Harry paused, waiting for the man to finish, but he didn't. The Gryffindor frowned, "…And?"
Snape raised his eyebrow, slightly amused, "No, and, Potter. I was intentionally vague."
Harry sat back in his chair not quite satisfied with the answer, with Snape looking ever so smug overpowering the Gryffindor in a battle of wits.
Well, it was worth a try.
After a short pause, Snape's expression turned serious once more, "Retrieve your wand."
Harry looked confused, "But sir -?"
"Surely you're not as deaf as you are thick-headed? I will not ask again."
Slowly, and still confused, Harry retrieved his wand. Snape moved to stand, also retrieving his own wand, as Harry wordlessly followed suit. He wasn't going to teach him that spell, was he? He didn't ask so that he could learn it. As sadistic as Snape could be, even he wasn't stupid enough to teach Harry a dark spell such as that one. His experience using Sectumsempra was enough of a lesson.
"I am going to teach you the freeze charm I used at the Quarry, which I presumed you witnessed?"
Harry actually felt relieved, "Uh yeah, I did. That was quite impressive, sir."
"Without waving your wand, I want you to repeat after me - " Snape lowered his wand and pointed to the floor in a passive stance, as Harry mirrored his move, "- Glacius impedimenta."
Harry repeated the spell without fault.
With a curt nod, Snape turned to the side and faced the center of the room, "Watch my wand movements closely, Potter. Allow me to demonstrate - Glacius impedimenta." Turning to the unfortunate inanimate object which was the dormant lamp atop the dusty piano in the corner, he expertly flourished his wand into a spiral, followed by a harsh diagonal strike upwards. When the tip of his wand burst a ball of ice, it froze the lamp completely, but the force of the spell caused it to crash to the floor. Waving his wand again, he cast a non-verbal Finite Incantatem and Repairo, sending it back into its original state and place.
Snape turned on his heel to face the Gryffindor, "…Proceed."
With a deep breath, Harry outstretched his arm –
"– Watch your footing, Potter. Do not lock your elbow. Relax the arm slightly – "
Harry nodded, adjusting his stance as best he could. He was admittedly, a little sloppy in his dueling posture. Fighting alongside his fellow students didn't exactly give him the most professional skills. With Snape, he only expected a higher quality and advanced level, and frankly, he could use the added discipline. Harry had to keep in mind that he was old enough to take this seriously now and avoid being so amateur as he felt like he was sometimes.
Once Harry spoke the incantation, a ball of ice exploded from his wand but soared too high up, missing the lamp, and hitting one of the painted portraits on the wall causing it to come crashing down. Harry winced with the impact.
"Try again. Work on your aim."
Harry made another attempt, this time aiming too low, freezing the piano chair instead. He cursed under his breath.
"Adequate, but I want you to be precise with your target. Again."
Gritting his teeth, Harry tried again. This time he managed to hit the lamp successfully, causing it to immediately shatter on impact. Harry smiled in victory.
"Good. With experience and precision, you can manipulate the spell into a beam to enable maximum effect," Snape gave a single curt nod to Harry in acknowledgment and turned towards the new mess of glass shards scattered across the floor. He took a large stride forward to flourish his wand and repair the damage, but the effect was met by a few shards lifting up slightly, then falling back to the floor in a lazy heap. A breath caught in his throat as he tried again, making a little more progress. He was able to finally piece together the lamp but could not lift it up magically off the floor.
The color further drained from Snape's already paled face.
Harry watched closely and with identical horror as the man's magic was slowly diminishing in front of their eyes. Eventually, he stepped in on behalf and levitated the lamp back onto its perch atop the piano, and turned to face his teacher.
"…Sir?" Harry was admittedly scared to say anything more.
Snape stood, rooted to the spot, still staring at the lamp. He remembered having some difficulty that day at Malfoy Manor, but he didn't anticipate it to be an occurrence he'd face again.
The Slytherin's' voice dropped quietly, and quivered, "…It seems as if the curse is progressing faster than I anticipated. And inhibiting my ability..."
For once, Harry didn't know what to say. It was actually heart-wrenching. He couldn't ever imagine slowly seeing one's magic slowly disappearing. For a wizard as skilled and powerful as Severus Snape, Harry actually felt bad for him. They could only hope that it would return once the curse could finally be removed. Until then, there was nothing else that they could do.
Snape's arms slumped to his side helplessly, as he turned to the Gryffindor. Their gaze met, and Harry could see a deep sadness within his obsidian eyes. It was one thing to purposely hide your vulnerability, but it was another to have it become visible and apparent, beyond your control, stripped away.
And at that moment, they knew their problems became far worse.