This was no ordinary day. It was the day after Harry Potter, The-Boy-Who-Lived defeated Voldemort. Every reporter and general busybody clamored to get the details of the event ever since the announcement was made; young Potter had single-handedly defeated the greatest Dark Lord in wizarding history. Strangely enough, the exact details of how Harry had killed Voldemort was known to only the dead dark wizard and his defeater. Not even the boy's best friends knew what transpired.After having his wounds healed by Madam Pomfrey ; Harry had locked himself inside his room at Grimmauld Place . He knew that his friends were worried, but still; he said nothing. What did his friends know of, what would they care for the horrors he saw during the battle. Harry was fortunate to barely capable of standing only one day after the last battle. And while Harry was more than glad for Voldemort's demise; still shuddered to think of what it had taken. He tried to banish thoughts of blood, of bloodshed, of exhumed bodies, an undead army. Voldemort, it would seem, had learned necromancy in the last six months. And though he was inexperienced, his new skill had made him only that much more difficult to destroy. The sight of his dead parents, shrieking horrifically and lusting for blood, shook him to the very core of his soul. Shaking his head to clear the images, Harry reminded himself that in spite of every underhanded ploy used to crush him, he had destroyed Voldemort. He had won.
He doubted that he would ever forgive Voldemort for bringing them out of the ground. He knew he would never have mental acceptance about Voldemort's actions. If anyone saw him right now, they would think he was distraught, or out of his mind, driven to insanity because of the final battle. Harry knew he was being too harsh on himself at the moment, but he didn't care.
All he wanted was some peace and quiet, which was Harry, is enjoying right now. Although from time to time, someone would rap at the door, it was obvious that they had wanted to enter his room to talk. Harry heard several snippets of what they wanted to Harry talk about.
"Harry, you can't hide in there forever," said Hermione with a hint of worry in her voice.
"Mate, what's wrong? We're all celebrating, don't you want to join us?" said Ron. They kept up this sort of conversation for a minute or two before walking away.
Harry thought of his former teacher, Remus Lupin, and shook his head in grief. Wormtail had killed Remus with his silver hand; Harry clutched his fists in anger and relaxed, remembering when he avenged Sirius, Remus and his parents' death by torturing Wormtail, formerly known as Peter Pettigrew. He grinned sadistically, concentrating his thoughts on Wormtail's cries of mercy, and screaming in agony, convulsing to every whim of Harry's spells. Then he finally killed Wormtail with a swift of his own wand. He did not say the killing curse however, but instead a long and torturing curse that would eventually kill Wormtail.
Smiling to himself, he knew that he had avenged everyone's death, especially the Marauder's deaths that deserved it the most. He heard soft footsteps coming to his door and tensed, he knew that it could not be Ron or Hermione, from the sounds of their familiar steps. Then someone stopped in front of his door and knocked hard.
"Potter! Come out right now!" yelled someone. Harry could not pinpoint exactly whom the voice belonged to, though he had an idea of who it is. "Potter, don't try my patience or I will blast this door down!"
'Snape... of course,' thought Harry dully. 'Who else would it be?'
"Why should I? Leave me the bloody damn alone," said Harry spitting. He did not want to be bothered, least of all Snape. Suddenly the door blew off its hinges, standing in the doorway; Snape was panting. "Snape, leave the bloody damn house!"
"No, you need to stop hiding yourself!" said Severus Snape with the mask of anger on his face.
"What, do you think I would hide in here for a month?" asked Harry sarcastically. "I just want to be alone, is that so bloody hard to understand?"
"Shut up Potter or I'll hex you!"
"Sure, sure, get out Snivellius!" spat Harry.
"Potter! That's it, Silencio! Potter, stop being such a difficult boy!" Harry's eyes showed a murderous glare at Snape for even using the spell on him. "Now that you are nice and quiet, you can listen to me," drawled Severus Snape. "Nothing in this world is utopian, so help me Merlin, stop sulking!"
Harry only continued his steady leerat Snape, clutching his own wand. 'Screw you Snape, screw you to hell!' thought Harry, reciting the thought repeatedly in his mind. Harry was getting angry at Snape with each passing moment of staring at the greasy haired man. 'Damn you Snape, I don't want you in my room, bloody hell, I don't want you to even step in th-MY house!'
"Are you even listening to me Potter or is your mind too simple?" asked Snape, with sarcasm in his voice. Harry launched himself at Snape, intending to tackle him and then punch him. However Snape saw him coming and pointed his wand at him. "Petrificus Totalis! Really Potter, you need to stop this rash behavior! If I didn't know any better, I'd say you are being very unwonted in character."
Harry had crashed onto the floor with a loud sickening thud. Harry winced mentally in pain. He simply continued to glare at his former professor. Harry decided to calm his features on hi face and pretend to agree with him just to make Snape leave the room sooner.
"Good, you're listening," said the Potions Master, sneering at the boy on the floor. He squatted down next to him, creating closeness between Harry and the older male wizard. "Now, if you'll stop your brooding behavior then everyone can get off my back. They are complaining about you hiding yourself from everyone. Hell, I do not even know how you and the Dark Lord fought or how you killed him. So help me Potter, tell us." Harry tried to say something and glared harder at Snape.
"Oh right, finite incantatem, so you're going to talk?"
"Hell no," said Harry at once, glaring at him. "What happened is between me and the dead man."
"Potter..." growled Snape.
"Snape, just bloody back off! I'm not going to create any made-up stories about what happened between the two of us! Is that so bloody hard to understand Snape? Maybe the fight is a touchy subject that I have no wish for anyone to know!"
"Listen Potter, I want to know how you killed the Dark Lord, I've been in his service since I was seventeen - "
"Oh so you want me to pity you and tell you my story? Ha, I don't think so," said Harry, cutting him off. Snape punched his fist into the floor, snarling at The-Boy-Who-Lived. "It is my every right to remain silent." Snape only sighed, bowing his head.
"Fine Mr. Potter, but don't blame me if you are being driven insane because you haven't told this to anyone. Would you even tell Albus Dumbledore if he was still alive?"
"No, not even him," said Harry, narrowing his eyes at him.
"No one at all? No one to confide in?" asked Severus Snape.
"Hell, not even Ron or Hermione would know," spat Harry. "So take this bloody hex off me or I will do damage to you. Trust me; you don't want me to do that." Severus paled slightly but dissembled his face again to back to anger.
"And if I don't take it off right now, what will you do?" drawled Severus Snape.
"Then once I am out of this jinx, I will hex you to the point that you would not even recognize yourself anymore," said Harry in his threatening tone of voice.
"That, Potter, will get you no where. Seeing that I can easily leave you here for a week," Severus Snape said to the jinxed male on the floor who only growled in irritation.
"Fine, I won't hex you if you don't take this damn thing off!" said Harry, trying to twitch in his state, but proved to be useless. He couldn't even cavort around the room with his head.
"Potter, really, stop putting so much tension on your body. It won't do you good if I take the jinx off," Harry reluctantly relaxes his muscles, waiting for his former Professor to take the hex off. "That's much better, finite incantatem."
Harry slowly sat up, glaring even more at his ex-professor. He raised to his feet, and took two steps backwards. "All right, so what do you suggest me to do, sir?" he spat out the last word.
"Go find someone to confide in," drawled Professor Snape. Harry made soft growling noises in the back of his throat.
"If I don't?" asked Harry.
"Then you will possibly be driven mad," said Snape.
"Hah, I won't be driven mad, I-"
"Oh really, locking yourself up when you should be celebrating. Is the first sign of your madness, Potter, if Dumbledore was still here, I wouldn't be telling you this. So consider yourself lucky."
"Well, I'm not lucky, I don't want you to be telling th-these things! Ordering me around like I'm still your student!" said Harry hotly. Potions Master stared at the wild-haired graduate boy, hardening his look with each passing moment with anger.
"I don't care if you are still my student or not, nevertheless, you need to take my commands because, as a chairman of Order of the Phoenix, you need to listen to what I say."
"Bullshit, I don't care, do you want to see when Voldemort brings your dead parents out of their- bloody hell!" Harry realized he made his slip and widened his eyes in horror. Snape looked taken aback, not expecting what he would reveal.
"I shouldn't have said that!" said Harry, horrorstricken at what he'd said.
"Potter, I-" drawled Snape, trying to regain his composure.
"Just go bloody away!" said Harry, making a loud crack and disapparated from Snape's view. Harry appareled into the kitchen, eyes bloodshot and caused everyone in the room to fall silent immediately. "Bloody hell, damn you Snape," whispered Harry. "Someone get me something to drink, firewhisky sounds great right about... now."
He sank into his seat, ignoring everyone trying to speak to him. Someone handed him some firewhisky; Harry immediately downed the whole bottle, causing a few gaping faces from others. Harry gave a small 'ahh' and relaxed in his chair. He had not really meant to make that small slip to Snape and he felt furious with himself. He knew he could have oblivated him, but didn't want to take chances in ruining his entire memory like Lockhart did. He shuddered in that memory from his second year. 'Close call anyway...' He heard the door opening behind him.
"Potter's been-!" he then heard him stuttering several seconds after his initial beginning of the sentence. "Potter, you're here!"
"Of course Snape, I'm here. Now go the bloody hell away," said Harry, drinking a second bottle.
"Now listen here Potter!" he heard Snape, sounding flustered. Harry closed his eyes, remaining calm. "Don't you ignore me Potter."
"Shut up Snape, I don't want to talk, plus I'm taking your suggestion and celebrate with the others here," he waved his hand to other people who are being silent. "Oh please don't listen to us, continue your celebration."
Slowly everyone began to drink and chatting to other people but the tension was still in the air. Harry looked back at Snape, leer in his eyes. "Oh Snape, don't be so biting and come and join us sir."
Snape came to the table, and glared at Harry and sat down across from him. He picked up a bottle of brandy and poured himself a glass while Harry was finishing the second bottle. Snape glared at him for drinking so much in short amount of time.
"Potter, you are going to have a hangover if you cont-"
"I don't care if I get a hangover or not. In fact, I welcome any pain right now!"
"Don't be so masochistic tonight Potter, other people are list-"
"Just be quiet Sniviellius, I don't want to hear you right now, if you know what's good for you."
"Potter!" yelled Snape, angry at him for even saying the name out loud to other people. "That's it," he took his wand out and pointed at him. Before he could even blink or utter a spell, Harry acted faster than he did.
"Stupefy," said Harry in a relaxed voice and Snape was instantly knocked out and slumped in his chair. "Anyone else?" Everyone in the room gaped at Harry, not sure of what had just happened and some of them shook their head hastily. "Good," said Harry, uncorking the third cup of firewhisky. Harry then swirled around the murky drink that has a smoke steaming out of the bottle and took a sip.
Harry vaguely heard Hermione trying to speak to him but then realized that her words were far too wordy for his ears and tuned her out as he continued to drink. When he set his bottle down, did Hermione poke him with her finger angrily.
"Harry! Stop ignoring me, please, tell me that you're all right?"
"Of course I am," said Harry, maintaining to keep his voice in most articulating possible. He didn't want to slur his words just yet. "Otherwise I would still be in my room."
"Harry, you're not fine, this is your third bottle!" said Hermione, panic evident in her voice.
"Something I've done before Hermione."
"What, but Harry, school was finished two days ago - unless you drank before?" she asked, ready to reprimand him.
"Sod off Hermione, I don't really give a damn," said Harry, sloshing his drink around, not making a mess.
"Harry!" exclaimed Ron. "Apologize to her," said Ron.
"Oh sure, I'm sorry, that better Ron?" asked Harry with sarcasm.
"Much," growled Ron. "But really mate, you can tell us anything if - "
"Ron, I don't need your words what Snape wanted me to do," said Harry tiredly. "This is exactly why I didn't want to leave my room. I'll be going back."
Harry disapparated with a crack, carrying along his third bottle of firewhisky and appareted in front of his door before anyone could even protest. Before entering, Harry cast a spell to repair the door back to normal. He then cast several locking charm and a spell to prevent the door from exploding off its hinges. Harry sat down on his bed, taking another sip out of his bottle.
Harry knew from the Daily Prophet, the Minister had wanted to make a speech for him, as the 'The-Boy-Who-Lived' along with Order of Merlin, First class. Harry honestly did not care for some bloody praise and a damn title that meant nothing to him. He sighed in irritation; he would have to come out sometime. But his thoughts would keep drifting to the soulless, haunted eyes of his dead parents, his dad's fleshless carcass hands reaching for him as his mom screamed for Harry's flesh.
The other people in the graveyard were scary to say the least, everyone scrambling for Harry's flesh, to make themselves more alive. As much as he had wanted to help his parents, he couldn't make them alive again. Harry had been unsure of what to do then, his Gryffindor screamed to find a way to make them alive, but his other side protested, the Slytherin, to destroy them all. Harry attacked all the other carcasses except for his parents. All the while, Voldemort had been laughing at him; he wasn't sure what to do with mom and dad's bodies.
Harry hadn't wanted to do anything degrading of his parents. Harry kept blaming all of his troubles on Voldemort and getting enraged with each passing moment in his fight with him. Harry knew he had made a decision in trying not to harm his parent's bodies. Harry kept telling himself that they weren't his parents, that they had been forced to be puppets by Voldemort.
Using with that thought in his head, he had delivered the final blow to Voldemort with series of fatal curses and hexes. Never using the killing curse. He knew that even in fight with Voldemort, he wasn't excused from going straight to Azkaban. Harry drew upon the power of love and gave one last curse at Voldemort, effectively killing Voldemort both physically, mentally, and soul. He turned to his parents and saw they were still under control, even after the death of Voldemort, sadness stroked his heart and something else, which he later recognized as betrayal. He knew they were being controlled, did not lessen his feeling of being betrayed.
With two waving of his wand, he destroyed his parents' bodies into dust. Harry watched the pile of dust being swept away into wind, and soon he saw no more remains of his parents were left. Distraught, and overwhelmed by sorrow, he no longer had his parents' bodies to mourn on except for their tombstones. He shed a tear in the graveyard.
Harry huddled up in his own body, saddened and abandoned, he found himself in his own room and finished the last sip of his drink. Morosely, he looked at the opposite wall and found himself staring at the mirror. Harry realized how red and tired his eyes were and pulled over a blanket, hoping for some shut eye. Unfortunately, a minute later, he heard knocking on the door and later accompanied for the first time, used Harry's first name.
"Harry! Let me in or I'll destroy your door again!"
"Just try Snivellius, just you try," muttered Harry to himself. He knew he had set the door so that not even Snape could blow it off. The knocking on the door continued for next ten minutes with several curses, hexes and spells to blow the door up.
"POTTER! MY PATIENCE IS WANING!" yelled Snape. Harry felt glad that he even made his room that it is not possible to apparate in, but still able to apparate out of the room, it was the same thing for the portkey as well. Harry smiled to himself as he dozed off with the constant yelling and knocking on the door. In truth, he did not care about anything or anyone in the world right now except for the much needed sleep.
The next day, Harry woke up to sounds of rapid sounds and groaned. 'Don't they ever give up? At this rate, they will be resting on the floor next to my door... wonderful. It's as if they want me to starve in my own room.' Harry felt safe in his own bastion room, protected by his own wards. Harry remembered and felt smart that he had Dobby to be his house elf. If he hadn't, well, he would have starved to death.
"Dobby?" asked Harry.
"Yes Harry Potter?" asked Dobby, appearing in front of him. Harry gave him a small smile.
"Hello Dobby, can you get me something to eat?"
"Certainly Harry Potter!" squeaked Dobby, and disappeared with his snap of fingers. Several seconds later, he returned with breakfast fit for a king. "Will this suit Harry Potter?"
"Yes, thank you, set it on the table please," said Harry, his stomach growling. He chuckled to himself as he ate his breakfast. Harry later realized that he hadn't come over with a hangover. Frowning, he asked for Dobby again.
"Dobby? I realized that I don't have a hangover from three bottles of firewhisky, do you know why?" Dobby fidgeted, and twisted his fingers. "Dobby, I won't hurt you if you know or did something."
"Dobby made firewhisky weaker than it was, Harry Potter. I did not want Harry Potter to... have a hangover," said Dobby, wincing for something to hit him. Harry sighed, shaking his head to himself.
"That would be why it was so much lighter than usual. Well, I guess I can thank you for that," said Harry, going back to his breakfast.
"Master not angry with Dobby?" asked Dobby.
"You should have known that by now, Dobby," said Harry with a grin. Dobby nodded eagerly.
"Dobby is sorry for stating the obvious sir, Dobby is sorry and does Master Harry Potter want anything else?"
"Can you tell me what everyone else is doing right outside of my door?" asked Harry a little coolly. Dobby nodded, ignoring his tone of voice and disappeared with a snap of fingers. Harry soon heard voices outside the door.
"Harry, why did you send a house elf out here?" asked Ron, curious.
"Please Harry, we want to talk."
"No thanks, I'll speak on my own terms, Dobby you can come back now," said Harry and Dobby reappeared, looking a bit shaken. "What's wrong Dobby?"
"That Severus S-Snape threatened Dobby!" squeaked the little house elf. Harry glared at the door, not pleased with the treatment of his loyal house elf.
"Snape, you don't threaten my house elf!" yelled Harry.
"Potter, we want to talk to you! I wish to speak with you," growled Snape.
"Sod off and I'll speak to you when I want to! Dobby, you can go back to work or whatever is it you do around here," commanded Harry, going back to his breakfast.