Into the Fire
May. 4th, 2007 11:52 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
morgynleriTitle: Into the Fire
Status: On Hiatus
Genre: Drama, Romance, Alternate Universe
Rating: PG13
Commentary: Any, if you wish.
Notes: Reposted, originally posted on my regular journal. More in the interests of keeping my links on my wiki all directed to one place.
Prologue
8 July 1987
Spinner's End
Snape looked down at the small girl who stood in front of Dumbledore, keeping his expression blank from long habit. Her arms wrapped tighter around the book clutched to her chest as she met his gaze with a solemn expression.
"To what do I owe the honor of your visit, Albus?" He looked back up to meet the twinkling blue eyes of his employer.
"As you know, Severus, several Muggle families scattered across Britain have recently been murdered. One of them had recently sent their daughter to some relatives for a visit, and inadvertantly saved her from the fate of the others." Dumbledore smiled, resting a hand on the shoulder of the girl. "It was decided that the child would be safer with a wizarding couple to raise her. I had hoped you would keep an eye on Miss Granger for a few days while arrangements are made for her to be adopted."
"You want me to watch a child?" Snape's lip curled upward in a sneer of disgust. Bad enough that he had to teach a roomful of the brats most of the year to maintain his cover, but to take care of one during the precious time away from Hogwarts, that went beyond the call of duty. Especially a Mudblood child like the one who stood on his doorstep with Dumbledore.
"Miss Granger should be no trouble for you, Severus. She quite reminds me of a particularly brilliant student I once taught. I'd be surprised if you even notice her. And it's only a few days."
"Professor Dumbledore tells me you have a library, Professor Snape," Granger piped up, a hint of excitement coloring her voice, and drawing his attention. "He leant me a few books, but I read quickly." She smiled up at him cautiously, meeting his gaze without the fear he had become accustomed to in his students and small children.
"It doesn't matter that I have a library, Miss Granger." He clenched his jaw, glaring at Dumbledore. "I am not willing to give up my holiday for one of your pet projects, Albus. Take her to the Weasleys if you want someone to watch her. They certainly have the experience."
The smile faded along with the twinkle, leaving only the stern headmaster who'd risked his reputation to save a Death Eater. "I will return when the arrangements have been made, Severus, to take Miss Granger to her new home. Until then, I cannot have her remain at Hogwarts, nor will I consign her, or her Muggle relatives, to the dangers of leaving her without protection there."
Snape scowled, mutinously crossing his arms over his chest. "There is still the option of the Weasleys."
"You are the one I chose to ask to watch Miss Granger, Severus. Not the Weasleys." Dumbledore held his gaze until Snape's scowl deepened, and he nodded once.
"You leave me little choice, Headmaster." Snape looked down at Granger again. "You will not touch anything unless I instruct you to do so, and you will remain in the room I provide, or in the kitchen, unless I escort you elsewhere. Is that clear?"
"Yes, sir." Granger nodded, and looked up at Dumbledore, her expression expectant.
Dumbledore smiled down at her, and patted her shoulder. "I'm sure you will be fine, Hermione. I'll return when a family is found to take you in permanently."
"Of course, sir. If Professor Snape doesn't want me to read his library, could you send me more books? I'll return these with the courier."
"I will try." Dumbledore gave Severus another warning look before he Disapparated, leaving Snape to deal with the child on his doorstep.
~ ~~ ~
17 June 1999
Nimue's Parlour, Knockturn Alley
Harry looked at the covered object on the table, then back up at the witch on the far side. He wished he had Hermione rattling off some theory about multiple realities and asking questions about how this would work, or Ron to trade confused looks with. Instead, he'd left one in St. Mungo's alongside Neville's parents, and the other in an early grave, along with too many ohers.
"It sounds like it would let you escape everything, Harry." Neville sat next to him, a strangely calm presence. The only one of his friends still alive and sane after the struggle to defeat Voldemort. He'd actually found the place, the address scribbled on something in Luna's trunk, when he packed her belongings into it to send it home to her father.
"You could come too, you know." Harry looked over at the other wizard, who shrugged.
"I still have things left here for me." Neville's lips quirked up into a small smile. "And the media just slides on past me, even when I do something that might catch their attention."
"I'm sure there's something you could do to get in the Daily Prophet, if you wanted to." Harry shrugged, looking back at the witch he'd come to see. "What do I have to do?"
"You want to leave this world behind for another. One where history unfolded differently." The witch nodded to the covered object. "Your friend should not be in here when that is uncovered if he wishes to stay. Once the relic is uncovered, you need only concentrate on what you want most from this chance to travel."
"That's all?" Harry asked for confirmation, dubious about the thing actually doing what the witch said it would.
"Yes, Mr. Potter, that's all there is to it. It does not require any more input from you than what you desire from it."
"Ok." Harry looked over at Neville again. "Um. Could you tell Hermione goodbye for me? And make sure that a rose is left on Ginny's grave every year?"
"Yeah." Neville stood, resting a hand on Harry's shoulder for a moment. "I hope you find what you're looking for, Harry."
"So do I," Harry replied quietly as Neville walked out the door, closing it behind him.
The witch on the far side of the table reached out, her hand resting on the cloth covering the object. "Are you certain this is what you want, Mr. Potter?"
"Yes." Harry nodded, wondering briefly what would happen to the woman when she uncovered the relic before focusing on what he wanted to achieve from this trip.
I want to see everyone I loved again, sane and alive. Ginny, Ron, Hermione, Sirius. Dumbledore, Mrs. Weasley, Remus, Hagrid.
The cloth swished aside to reveal a matte black block of stone, carved with runes on every inch of surface visible. Harry blinked, puzzled, and then closed his eyes, focusing, ignoring the strange look of the relic, or the witch across the table.
Ginny, Ron, Hermione, Sirius, Dumbledore, Mrs. Weasley, Remus, Hagrid.
The names became a chant in his head, light building beyond his eyelids, fire starting to dance along his nerves, trying to distract him from what he wanted. Harry ruthlessly shoved the pain aside, concentrating his whole being on the images of those he loved most, alive, smiling, surrounding him.
The pain built to a crescendo, sending him to his knees with his teeth gritted, the light flashing bright enough to blind, even behind tightly squeezed lids. Harry heard his blood roaring in his ear, and beyond it, the faint sound of a wet, hollow pop, like a melon splattering against pavement, before the light faded abruptly, along with his consciousness.
Chapter 1 - Careful What You Wish For
18 June 1999
Godric's Hollow, Order of the Phoenix Headquarters
Harry groaned as he woke up, feeling like he'd just defeated Voldemort, again. Without the satisfaction of knowing he'd made a difference.
"He's awake now, Mr. Potter. Though I'd say none to happy about it." The brisk voice above him sounded like Madame Pomfrey, and Harry wrenched open his eyes, staring up at the blurry face that hovered above him. "And I'll be none too happy if you strain him too much asking questions. Whoever he is, he took quite a fall."
"And two stunners to the chest, I know." That voice sounded almost familiar, and Harry turned to look towards the source, squinting as he tried to focus on the face. He assumed it was the Mr. Potter that Madame Pomfrey had just addressed. "Right now, I'll settle for knowing who he is."
"Harry Potter." Harry rubbed his eyes, grimacing slightly against the throbbing headache starting to spike behind his eyes. "Could I have my glasses? I can't see."
"Later," Mr. Potter replied. "How can you be Harry Potter?"
"I'm not the Harry Potter from this reality, if that's what you mean. I... I was given the chance to see another version of history, where all my friends were still alive. There was another person with me, a witch. Ask her, she'll tell you."
"No one was with you." Mr. Potter paused. "You just appeared in an area where no one can Apparate. How?"
"I don't know." Harry scowled, glaring as best he could in the general direction of the voice. "I need my glasses. Now."
"Madame Pomfrey, would you?"
Harry slid on the glasses handed him, blinking as the room came into focus. Madame Pomfrey stood next to a small table, pouring water into a glass which she held out to him wordlessly. He was on a small cot like the ones he remembered from the Hogwarts infirmary, though the room itself couldn't be much larger than his room at the Dursleys.
In front of a closed door, his arms crossed over his chest, stood Mr. Potter, and Harry knew why he hadn't believed him.
"You're me." Potter raised an eyebrow, and Harry let out a nervous laugh. "Or I'm you."
"So you say." Potter gestured to the glass Harry held. "I hope you don't mind, I'm not in the mood to wait for answers. Veritaserum, in the water. And if you don't drink it down on your own, I'll have Madame Pomfrey ensure you drink it."
Harry looked at the glass a moment nervously, before gulping it down, the familiar detatched sense coming over him.
"Who are you, and how did you get into Order Headquarters?"
"My name is Harry Potter, but everyone calls me Harry except the Dursleys, who usually call me boy, when they can't avoid me altogether, and my professors at Hogwarts, they all called me Mr. Potter, and Malfoy had a variety of names..."
"How did you get into Order Headquarters?"
"I'm not sure. I was at this little shop tucked away at the far end of Knockturn Alley, over some pub or nightclub or something, and the witch who ran the place had something on a table covered in cloth. She said it would allow me the chance to travel wherever I wanted, and Neville was with me, because he'd found the address among Luna's things when he was packing them to send home to her father, and he thought it might help. And after he left, the witch uncovered this block covered with runes, and it glowed and hurt, and the next thing I know I'm waking up here, because I had my eyes closed, because I needed to focus on what I wanted, that's how it works..."
"Travel how?"
"Between realities. To a place where I wanted to go. I wanted to go where all my friends were alive and sane. Neville was the only one left, but he's got other things to worry about than a hero who feels like he failed, like his new job in Salem, and his Gran, and stuff like that. And Hermione is alive, but she's like Neville's parents, insane, though not for the same reasons. And Ron and Ginny and Sirius and Hagrid and Remus and Dumbledore, they're all dead, and it's all beca..."
"So you came from a different world?"
"Yes. Where everyone I really care about is dead, and so even though Voldemort is dead..."
"Voldemort is dead?" Madame Pomfrey stared at Harry in shock, then looked up at Potter, who had an equally shocked expression on his face. "How is that possible?"
"Because he had to kill me, or I had to kill him, and I found all the horcruxes and destroyed them, and then destroyed him..."
"Horcruxes?" Potter frowned. "What are horcruxes?"
"They're pieces of a soul, I think. You create them when you murder people, and Voldemort had plans for six of them. We had to destroy eight, because two of them were destroyed and then replaced. And then I could kill him. The last was actually the easiest part, really. He's so focused on magic being the most important thing in the world that he didn't think about Muggle weapons. Fred and George had this inspiration from a Muggle movie one of their employees introduced them to, and they made this bomb that blinded and deafened everyone in a room..."
"I can see how that would be helpful. I really don't need to know." Potter paused, looking over at Madame Pomfrey. "Give him some antidote. I need to go talk to some people."
"What about my patient, Mr. Potter?"
"I don't know yet." Potter ran a hand through his hair, a thoughtful expression on his face. "I'll talk to the others, and we'll figure it out. He might be useful."
Madame Pomfrey let out an exasperated sigh, handing Harry another glass, with a fingerful of liquid in the bottom. He drank it down as Potter left the room, wondering what he'd gotten himself into, and why it appeared so surprising to Madame Pomfrey and Potter that Voldemort was dead.
~ ~~ ~
"Well?" Sirius stopped his pacing as Potter came back into the room, raising an eyebrow at the contemplative expression on his godson's face. "Who is he?"
"Me." Potter chuckled at the irritated snort that earned him, sitting in his favorite chair. "From a different version of history. One where he killed Voldemort. I killed Voldemort." He shook his head. "It's a bit confusing."
"You don't say." Sirius sighed, thumping down onto the couch across from Potter. "Are you sure he's who he says he is?"
"I used the Veritaserum, Sirius. The varient Eve brews, that the Death Eaters sure as hell better not have gotten their hands on." Potter sighed, leaning back to stare at the ceiling. "Ever heard of Horcruxes?"
"No. What are they?"
"Dark magic, I'd assume. Considering the Voldemort in the other world had them, and he murdered people to create them." Potter studied the one crack in the ceiling, making a note to get some plaster and patch it before the next rainstorm. "Six of them, he said there were. Eight in the end, because Voldemort recieved word two of them got destroyed."
"You should ask Albus when he comes for the meeting tomorrow. He might have a better idea about what Horcruxes are."
Potter sat up again, looking over at his godfather. "I don't know if I want to ask him. He's too exposed to Snape on a regular basis. And he won't sack him, despite all the signs that he's really returned to Voldemort, and isn't spying for our side."
"And you think he's going senile." Sirius met his gaze, raising an eyebrow to underline his question.
"It's entirely possible. Or it's possible he's being otherwise misled. It really doesn't matter. I don't think we should tell him about our guest, or ask him about Horcruxes. Not until we have better intelligence on what they are, and where they are. Maybe not until we get our hands on these things, and can destroy them, and make the final strike at Voldemort."
"Maybe." Sirius frowned thoughtfully for a moment. "I'll see what Eve can tell me, see what she can get out of the library at Salem. It's not as extensive as the one at Hogwarts, but it has more texts on dark magic. She might be able to get us some information."
Potter chuckled. "She'll try to get you whatever information is availible to her. I still think she's only helping because it gives her a chance to flirt with you."
"She's young enough to be my daughter!" Sirius yelped, flushing a dark red.
"The age difference doesn't appear to matter to Remus and Madame Pomfrey," Potter pointed out, one corner of his mouth quirked up in amusement. "In fact, I'd rather say they..."
"That I don't need to hear it," Sirius interrupted, giving Potter an irritated look. "Remind me again why I put up with you?"'
"Because I'm your godson." Potter gave him an innocent grin, and Sirius rolled his eyes, reaching out to ruffle the younger man's hair.
"You're going to be the death of me. I'll go write Eve, and we'll see what we can find out about Horcruxes, and how to get rid of them." Sirius left Potter with his thoughts as he headed for the study, though he wished he could argue to ask Dumbledore about the Horcruxes. He really is getting senile, for all the wishing in the world. No doubt helped along by bloody Snape. How he can trust him after what he did to that child, though...
He cut off the thought with a shake of his head, sighing as he sat down to write another letter to the head of the Defense Against the Dark Arts department at Salem University. And if she flirts with me by owl again, I think I'll go insane.
Status: On Hiatus
Genre: Drama, Romance, Alternate Universe
Rating: PG13
Commentary: Any, if you wish.
Notes: Reposted, originally posted on my regular journal. More in the interests of keeping my links on my wiki all directed to one place.
8 July 1987
Spinner's End
Snape looked down at the small girl who stood in front of Dumbledore, keeping his expression blank from long habit. Her arms wrapped tighter around the book clutched to her chest as she met his gaze with a solemn expression.
"To what do I owe the honor of your visit, Albus?" He looked back up to meet the twinkling blue eyes of his employer.
"As you know, Severus, several Muggle families scattered across Britain have recently been murdered. One of them had recently sent their daughter to some relatives for a visit, and inadvertantly saved her from the fate of the others." Dumbledore smiled, resting a hand on the shoulder of the girl. "It was decided that the child would be safer with a wizarding couple to raise her. I had hoped you would keep an eye on Miss Granger for a few days while arrangements are made for her to be adopted."
"You want me to watch a child?" Snape's lip curled upward in a sneer of disgust. Bad enough that he had to teach a roomful of the brats most of the year to maintain his cover, but to take care of one during the precious time away from Hogwarts, that went beyond the call of duty. Especially a Mudblood child like the one who stood on his doorstep with Dumbledore.
"Miss Granger should be no trouble for you, Severus. She quite reminds me of a particularly brilliant student I once taught. I'd be surprised if you even notice her. And it's only a few days."
"Professor Dumbledore tells me you have a library, Professor Snape," Granger piped up, a hint of excitement coloring her voice, and drawing his attention. "He leant me a few books, but I read quickly." She smiled up at him cautiously, meeting his gaze without the fear he had become accustomed to in his students and small children.
"It doesn't matter that I have a library, Miss Granger." He clenched his jaw, glaring at Dumbledore. "I am not willing to give up my holiday for one of your pet projects, Albus. Take her to the Weasleys if you want someone to watch her. They certainly have the experience."
The smile faded along with the twinkle, leaving only the stern headmaster who'd risked his reputation to save a Death Eater. "I will return when the arrangements have been made, Severus, to take Miss Granger to her new home. Until then, I cannot have her remain at Hogwarts, nor will I consign her, or her Muggle relatives, to the dangers of leaving her without protection there."
Snape scowled, mutinously crossing his arms over his chest. "There is still the option of the Weasleys."
"You are the one I chose to ask to watch Miss Granger, Severus. Not the Weasleys." Dumbledore held his gaze until Snape's scowl deepened, and he nodded once.
"You leave me little choice, Headmaster." Snape looked down at Granger again. "You will not touch anything unless I instruct you to do so, and you will remain in the room I provide, or in the kitchen, unless I escort you elsewhere. Is that clear?"
"Yes, sir." Granger nodded, and looked up at Dumbledore, her expression expectant.
Dumbledore smiled down at her, and patted her shoulder. "I'm sure you will be fine, Hermione. I'll return when a family is found to take you in permanently."
"Of course, sir. If Professor Snape doesn't want me to read his library, could you send me more books? I'll return these with the courier."
"I will try." Dumbledore gave Severus another warning look before he Disapparated, leaving Snape to deal with the child on his doorstep.
17 June 1999
Nimue's Parlour, Knockturn Alley
Harry looked at the covered object on the table, then back up at the witch on the far side. He wished he had Hermione rattling off some theory about multiple realities and asking questions about how this would work, or Ron to trade confused looks with. Instead, he'd left one in St. Mungo's alongside Neville's parents, and the other in an early grave, along with too many ohers.
"It sounds like it would let you escape everything, Harry." Neville sat next to him, a strangely calm presence. The only one of his friends still alive and sane after the struggle to defeat Voldemort. He'd actually found the place, the address scribbled on something in Luna's trunk, when he packed her belongings into it to send it home to her father.
"You could come too, you know." Harry looked over at the other wizard, who shrugged.
"I still have things left here for me." Neville's lips quirked up into a small smile. "And the media just slides on past me, even when I do something that might catch their attention."
"I'm sure there's something you could do to get in the Daily Prophet, if you wanted to." Harry shrugged, looking back at the witch he'd come to see. "What do I have to do?"
"You want to leave this world behind for another. One where history unfolded differently." The witch nodded to the covered object. "Your friend should not be in here when that is uncovered if he wishes to stay. Once the relic is uncovered, you need only concentrate on what you want most from this chance to travel."
"That's all?" Harry asked for confirmation, dubious about the thing actually doing what the witch said it would.
"Yes, Mr. Potter, that's all there is to it. It does not require any more input from you than what you desire from it."
"Ok." Harry looked over at Neville again. "Um. Could you tell Hermione goodbye for me? And make sure that a rose is left on Ginny's grave every year?"
"Yeah." Neville stood, resting a hand on Harry's shoulder for a moment. "I hope you find what you're looking for, Harry."
"So do I," Harry replied quietly as Neville walked out the door, closing it behind him.
The witch on the far side of the table reached out, her hand resting on the cloth covering the object. "Are you certain this is what you want, Mr. Potter?"
"Yes." Harry nodded, wondering briefly what would happen to the woman when she uncovered the relic before focusing on what he wanted to achieve from this trip.
I want to see everyone I loved again, sane and alive. Ginny, Ron, Hermione, Sirius. Dumbledore, Mrs. Weasley, Remus, Hagrid.
The cloth swished aside to reveal a matte black block of stone, carved with runes on every inch of surface visible. Harry blinked, puzzled, and then closed his eyes, focusing, ignoring the strange look of the relic, or the witch across the table.
Ginny, Ron, Hermione, Sirius, Dumbledore, Mrs. Weasley, Remus, Hagrid.
The names became a chant in his head, light building beyond his eyelids, fire starting to dance along his nerves, trying to distract him from what he wanted. Harry ruthlessly shoved the pain aside, concentrating his whole being on the images of those he loved most, alive, smiling, surrounding him.
The pain built to a crescendo, sending him to his knees with his teeth gritted, the light flashing bright enough to blind, even behind tightly squeezed lids. Harry heard his blood roaring in his ear, and beyond it, the faint sound of a wet, hollow pop, like a melon splattering against pavement, before the light faded abruptly, along with his consciousness.
18 June 1999
Godric's Hollow, Order of the Phoenix Headquarters
Harry groaned as he woke up, feeling like he'd just defeated Voldemort, again. Without the satisfaction of knowing he'd made a difference.
"He's awake now, Mr. Potter. Though I'd say none to happy about it." The brisk voice above him sounded like Madame Pomfrey, and Harry wrenched open his eyes, staring up at the blurry face that hovered above him. "And I'll be none too happy if you strain him too much asking questions. Whoever he is, he took quite a fall."
"And two stunners to the chest, I know." That voice sounded almost familiar, and Harry turned to look towards the source, squinting as he tried to focus on the face. He assumed it was the Mr. Potter that Madame Pomfrey had just addressed. "Right now, I'll settle for knowing who he is."
"Harry Potter." Harry rubbed his eyes, grimacing slightly against the throbbing headache starting to spike behind his eyes. "Could I have my glasses? I can't see."
"Later," Mr. Potter replied. "How can you be Harry Potter?"
"I'm not the Harry Potter from this reality, if that's what you mean. I... I was given the chance to see another version of history, where all my friends were still alive. There was another person with me, a witch. Ask her, she'll tell you."
"No one was with you." Mr. Potter paused. "You just appeared in an area where no one can Apparate. How?"
"I don't know." Harry scowled, glaring as best he could in the general direction of the voice. "I need my glasses. Now."
"Madame Pomfrey, would you?"
Harry slid on the glasses handed him, blinking as the room came into focus. Madame Pomfrey stood next to a small table, pouring water into a glass which she held out to him wordlessly. He was on a small cot like the ones he remembered from the Hogwarts infirmary, though the room itself couldn't be much larger than his room at the Dursleys.
In front of a closed door, his arms crossed over his chest, stood Mr. Potter, and Harry knew why he hadn't believed him.
"You're me." Potter raised an eyebrow, and Harry let out a nervous laugh. "Or I'm you."
"So you say." Potter gestured to the glass Harry held. "I hope you don't mind, I'm not in the mood to wait for answers. Veritaserum, in the water. And if you don't drink it down on your own, I'll have Madame Pomfrey ensure you drink it."
Harry looked at the glass a moment nervously, before gulping it down, the familiar detatched sense coming over him.
"Who are you, and how did you get into Order Headquarters?"
"My name is Harry Potter, but everyone calls me Harry except the Dursleys, who usually call me boy, when they can't avoid me altogether, and my professors at Hogwarts, they all called me Mr. Potter, and Malfoy had a variety of names..."
"How did you get into Order Headquarters?"
"I'm not sure. I was at this little shop tucked away at the far end of Knockturn Alley, over some pub or nightclub or something, and the witch who ran the place had something on a table covered in cloth. She said it would allow me the chance to travel wherever I wanted, and Neville was with me, because he'd found the address among Luna's things when he was packing them to send home to her father, and he thought it might help. And after he left, the witch uncovered this block covered with runes, and it glowed and hurt, and the next thing I know I'm waking up here, because I had my eyes closed, because I needed to focus on what I wanted, that's how it works..."
"Travel how?"
"Between realities. To a place where I wanted to go. I wanted to go where all my friends were alive and sane. Neville was the only one left, but he's got other things to worry about than a hero who feels like he failed, like his new job in Salem, and his Gran, and stuff like that. And Hermione is alive, but she's like Neville's parents, insane, though not for the same reasons. And Ron and Ginny and Sirius and Hagrid and Remus and Dumbledore, they're all dead, and it's all beca..."
"So you came from a different world?"
"Yes. Where everyone I really care about is dead, and so even though Voldemort is dead..."
"Voldemort is dead?" Madame Pomfrey stared at Harry in shock, then looked up at Potter, who had an equally shocked expression on his face. "How is that possible?"
"Because he had to kill me, or I had to kill him, and I found all the horcruxes and destroyed them, and then destroyed him..."
"Horcruxes?" Potter frowned. "What are horcruxes?"
"They're pieces of a soul, I think. You create them when you murder people, and Voldemort had plans for six of them. We had to destroy eight, because two of them were destroyed and then replaced. And then I could kill him. The last was actually the easiest part, really. He's so focused on magic being the most important thing in the world that he didn't think about Muggle weapons. Fred and George had this inspiration from a Muggle movie one of their employees introduced them to, and they made this bomb that blinded and deafened everyone in a room..."
"I can see how that would be helpful. I really don't need to know." Potter paused, looking over at Madame Pomfrey. "Give him some antidote. I need to go talk to some people."
"What about my patient, Mr. Potter?"
"I don't know yet." Potter ran a hand through his hair, a thoughtful expression on his face. "I'll talk to the others, and we'll figure it out. He might be useful."
Madame Pomfrey let out an exasperated sigh, handing Harry another glass, with a fingerful of liquid in the bottom. He drank it down as Potter left the room, wondering what he'd gotten himself into, and why it appeared so surprising to Madame Pomfrey and Potter that Voldemort was dead.
"Well?" Sirius stopped his pacing as Potter came back into the room, raising an eyebrow at the contemplative expression on his godson's face. "Who is he?"
"Me." Potter chuckled at the irritated snort that earned him, sitting in his favorite chair. "From a different version of history. One where he killed Voldemort. I killed Voldemort." He shook his head. "It's a bit confusing."
"You don't say." Sirius sighed, thumping down onto the couch across from Potter. "Are you sure he's who he says he is?"
"I used the Veritaserum, Sirius. The varient Eve brews, that the Death Eaters sure as hell better not have gotten their hands on." Potter sighed, leaning back to stare at the ceiling. "Ever heard of Horcruxes?"
"No. What are they?"
"Dark magic, I'd assume. Considering the Voldemort in the other world had them, and he murdered people to create them." Potter studied the one crack in the ceiling, making a note to get some plaster and patch it before the next rainstorm. "Six of them, he said there were. Eight in the end, because Voldemort recieved word two of them got destroyed."
"You should ask Albus when he comes for the meeting tomorrow. He might have a better idea about what Horcruxes are."
Potter sat up again, looking over at his godfather. "I don't know if I want to ask him. He's too exposed to Snape on a regular basis. And he won't sack him, despite all the signs that he's really returned to Voldemort, and isn't spying for our side."
"And you think he's going senile." Sirius met his gaze, raising an eyebrow to underline his question.
"It's entirely possible. Or it's possible he's being otherwise misled. It really doesn't matter. I don't think we should tell him about our guest, or ask him about Horcruxes. Not until we have better intelligence on what they are, and where they are. Maybe not until we get our hands on these things, and can destroy them, and make the final strike at Voldemort."
"Maybe." Sirius frowned thoughtfully for a moment. "I'll see what Eve can tell me, see what she can get out of the library at Salem. It's not as extensive as the one at Hogwarts, but it has more texts on dark magic. She might be able to get us some information."
Potter chuckled. "She'll try to get you whatever information is availible to her. I still think she's only helping because it gives her a chance to flirt with you."
"She's young enough to be my daughter!" Sirius yelped, flushing a dark red.
"The age difference doesn't appear to matter to Remus and Madame Pomfrey," Potter pointed out, one corner of his mouth quirked up in amusement. "In fact, I'd rather say they..."
"That I don't need to hear it," Sirius interrupted, giving Potter an irritated look. "Remind me again why I put up with you?"'
"Because I'm your godson." Potter gave him an innocent grin, and Sirius rolled his eyes, reaching out to ruffle the younger man's hair.
"You're going to be the death of me. I'll go write Eve, and we'll see what we can find out about Horcruxes, and how to get rid of them." Sirius left Potter with his thoughts as he headed for the study, though he wished he could argue to ask Dumbledore about the Horcruxes. He really is getting senile, for all the wishing in the world. No doubt helped along by bloody Snape. How he can trust him after what he did to that child, though...
He cut off the thought with a shake of his head, sighing as he sat down to write another letter to the head of the Defense Against the Dark Arts department at Salem University. And if she flirts with me by owl again, I think I'll go insane.