Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter nor any of the characters in the Harry Potter series. Pretty much if its in the books, its not mine. Enjoi
Who Are You?
"This is it," Harry Potter barely managed to utter under his breath. It was summer, when every kid attending school should be their happiest about a break in learning. Young Harry only had two years left to go before graduating Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. He only had two months before he returned to his sixth year. He should be out with his friends, or watching TV with his cousin, or at least studying. That's what any other normal kid was doing. Tragically, no one ever made the mistake of calling Harry Potter normal.
It was summer, it was two weeks until he turned sixteen, and it was the most miserable time he had ever had. Tears could not release the pain and anger that was building in his chest. Mourning his fallen Godfather didn't bring him back. The self loathing would never lift the weight of the world off his shoulders.
Staring blankly out of his second floor window he asked no one, "What's the point? Why should I save a world if I can't save the people?"
The vile prophecy was still repeating itself over and over in his head, at least parts of it.
…for neither can live while the other survives…
"At least the old bat got that part right," he said to his window again.
His pet and friend Hedwig chirped from her cage, Harry thought it sounded like she was trying to encourage him.
"Boy! Shut that ruddy bird up!" his Uncle Vernon screamed from the living room of Number 4 Privet Drive.
"Fuck you," Harry said in the same dead voice that only he could hear. None the less Harry sat down with a piece of parchment, some ink, and a quill. In a daze he wrote everything that popped into his head, addressed to anyone who wanted to know what was in there.
Dear Ron, Hermione, Neville, Luna, Ginny, Mrs. and Mr. Weasley, Remus, and Professor Dumbledore,
I did it, I fucking killed my own Godfather. I killed Cedric, I killed my parents. I must be giving the Grim Reaper a run for his money. I'm a walking death trap. And the ones around me the longest are still alive to belittle and berate me. Just fucking wonderful. And since someone wants this kept a secret, I'll tell it anyway. That prophecy, the one I killed my Godfather for, said I'm the one who has to kill Voldemort or die trying. But guess what, I can't, you're all fucking doomed. So the least I can do is go away so at least you all will have a smaller target painted on your backs. It was nice to know you, I'm sorry this is how it went. I hope one day you'll each understand.
With All the Love I Have Left,
P.S. Ginny, could you give Hedwig a home?
Harry cried while writing, the tears wilting some of the parchment, some the ink blurred in the tears. He rolled the letter up and sealed it. Still crying he tied the letter to Hedwig's leg.
"Could you give this to Ron girl? And…and, stay where Ginny is alright?"
Hedwig nipped his finger affectionately, and flew gracefully out of the window. While she flew Harry remembered everything about the people who had died because of him. The last voice echoed through his head, it was his mother's.
"Please, no, not Harry…"
"Why not mum, it would have been better," Harry said tears still cascading down his cheeks.
He took the two steps from his shabby desk and reached the trunk at the end of his bed. Opening it he found his wand; he took two more steps and lay on the lumpy too small mattress. He closed his eyes and remembered the advice about the Cruciatus curse from Bellatrix Lestrange.
"You have to want it," he said.
He lay there, thinking of every reason he wanted this, everything that would be better. Slowly opening his eyes full of conviction he pointed his wand at his chest and spoke the spell.
"Avada Kedavra" and an emerald green light hit him square in the chest.
Many miles away Albus Dumbledore was sitting in his office wondering if had done anything right in the past year. He looked up when his pet phoenix Fawkes let out a shrill cry. Phoenixes usually sang a song that could comfort some of the darkest of hearts, but this cry startled its familiar out of his chair. Dumbledore was striding to his pet out of concern, his heart breaking at the sound it had just let out. Before he reached Fawkes though the phoenix let out another agonizing cry, and then burst into flame, the ashes landing in a tray below.
The dank dark house was unassuming. That is, if you could see it. The most ancient and noble house of Black was filled with people its previous owners would have despised. In fact, a portrait of one was more than willing to let you know. As of now she was quiet though, much to the pleasure of the current occupants. In the drawing room siblings Ron and Ginny Weasley were playing a game of chess. Hermione Granger was curled onto a couch reading a book, not surprising since she was the top student currently enrolled at Hogwarts. No one seemed to be concentrating though, each person was mainly focused on Harry, and how he was doing.
Suddenly Ginny bolted out of her seat so fast the chess table was knocked into her brother's lap.
"Bloody hell Ginny," then he looked into her eyes, "what's wrong?"
"Its, its Harry, something is wrong with Harry," she said in a distant weak voice.
"What do you mean something is wrong with Harry, how do you know?" Ron asked; fear underlying what confidence he tried to speak with.
"I just know," Ginny fell in a heap on the ground, weeping. Hermione rushed to her side.
"Ginny what's wrong?" she asked concern evident in her tone.
"I…I feel…hopeless, and empty," Ginny answered.
"Ron! Get your mother!" Hermione directed.
Few really knew the location. The ones that came only had to follow the pain of a tattoo burning the flesh of their forearm. Most of the followers had only even seen the throne room, which was where The Dark Lord Voldemort currently sat. Two people were bowed in front of him.
"My Lord, the wards will not break. Two of our curse breakers have already been apprehended while trying," Bellatrix said, apology oozing off her voice.
"Fine, we will wait until he leaves, Wormtail, you shall…" but Voldemort didn't finish his sentence. His eyes grew wide, and to the amazement of his two servants, he laughed. An eerie high pitch laugh consumed their master.
"My-my Lord, i-is ev-everything alright?" whimpered Wormtail.
"Oh yes, everything is perfect," Voldemort answered, and laughed even harder.
Mrs. Figg had just finished baking a batch of chocolate chip cookies. She personally didn't have taste for them, but her cats simply adored the treats. As she turned from her oven Albus Dumbledore stepped out of her fireplace. In shock, she dropped the cookie sheet.
"What's happened?" she asked, knowing if he was here and she didn't expect it, it couldn't be good.
"I must go," his tone was flat and far away, his eyes were dead, and it sent shivers down Mrs. Figg's spine.
She nodded in reply but he didn't see her. Already he walked to the door and outside. He walked, almost aimlessly down the suburban sidewalk. He didn't care if the robes he wore were out of place, or that many housewives were clucking their tongues at his beard that reached his waist. Before he even realized it, the door with a number four was in front of his eyes. He rang the bell.
The door snapped open and a very unamused Petunia Dursley eyed him.
"What do you want? We haven't mistreated the boy," she snapped at him.
"No, no, but I possibly have. I have to see him."
"Upstairs, first door on the right," she gestured for Dumbledore to hurry up before anyone could see him enter her house.
"I know," he answered and walked in.
It wasn't a long climb to the second story of the Dursley house, but it was the longest Albus Dumbledore had ever taken, and that was saying a lot. He finally reached his destination, a door with many deadlocks and a cat flap at the bottom. He turned the knob.
Ginny Weasley was curled into the fetal position on her bed. The anguish that she felt was there, but her tears no longer worked. Breathing was difficult, and the pain in her chest still lingered. Her mother had given her a calming draught, then a sleeping potion. They should have taken effect within fifteen minutes. That was an hour ago. Her eldest brother Bill was sitting with her, nothing he said or did was of any comfort. So he now sat silently holding her hand.
Back in the drawing room Arthur Weasley, the father of the Weasley clan, was trying to explain what was going on without really knowing what was going on.
"What does this have to do with The Chamber of Secrets?" Ron asked his dad, impatience weighing down his voice.
"When a witch or wizard saves another's life, a connection is formed. This is ancient magic at its purest. When Harry saved Ginny they became somehow linked through a life-debt." Arthur answered with what Dumbledore had tried to explain all those years ago.
"So Ginny does know something is wrong with Harry?" Hermione asked, still feeling like she was somehow intruding on family business.
"I believe so," Mr. Weasley answered, then with a none to convincing smile, "but we'll have to wait to know for sure."
Molly Weasley, the protective mother of her children, natural and otherwise, paced in front of the fireplace of the kitchen of Grimmauld Place. She had already tried to floo-call Dumbledore to already find an empty office and a small Fawkes sorting through his ashes. She wanted news, and she wanted it now. Her husband entered the room to see her grab a handful of Floo powder.
"Molly, where are you going?" he asked.
"To Arabella's, then to Harry," she answered in a fashion that that should be the most obvious answer in the world.
"But what if it's an attack?"
"And what if it's not?"
"We have to wait for news dear," he tried to comfort her, but it was pointless.
"Arthur, I have to know, maybe there is still time," she finally broke; tears ran freely down her face.
Losing all resolve, "Ok, as soon as you leave I'm calling every order member I can find, they should arrive soon."
She nodded, stepped into the fire, through her floo, and called, "The house of Arabella Figg!"
The green flames engulfed her, and she was gone.
Remus Lupin sat at the table he had conjured in the Shrieking Shack. An old photo album in front of him, currently it was turned to his favorite picture he owned. He was standing there in St. Mungo's Hospital, Lily Potter was in bed smiling up at him, he was holding the newborn Harry who was wiggling in his arms, James Potter was at his side scrunched over talking to his soon, and Sirius Black was at his other side. The occupants in the wizard picture moved, but not much. Ever so often Sirius would pat his shoulder in the picture. All of them had smiles that would hurt for days.
The bottle of firewhiskey was half empty in front of him.
He half giggled and said, "Or half full, right James?"
Tears began to mist his eyes over, but still he talked to his dead friends.
"I'm sorry Lil," he said while running a finger over her in the picture, "I failed you all. I should have been there, for Harry. I'm sorry Harry, I failed you too. Sirius, Padfoot, I turned my back on you when you needed me most. Sometimes, sometimes I feel I betrayed you all more than Peter ever did. I'm so sorry."
The tears flowed freely now. As he picked the bottle up again he closed the book.
"I'll kill him for what he did," he said through his haze, then he looked to the ceiling, "it's the least I can do."
He looked so peaceful. Dumbledore had never seen Harry without the lines of stress pulling his face away from youth. But here is the young man, his face looking like it never knew what worry was. The only thing that looked truly wrong was his scar. The lighting bolt that gave all the fame Harry never wanted was bleeding. Bleeding green. Even now, it was oozing down his face, cascading over his cheek and tripping on his sheets. His arms were at his sides; his wand was resting on his chest. A single tear fell from the headmaster's eye.
'Am I dead?' Harry thought to himself?
He was surrounded by darkness. A darkness so black he thought he could see it move, but he chalked it up to his mind trying to make something out of nothing. He spun around in a circle, but he saw nothing. The blackness was so deep and engulfing he actually spun in two circle because he didn't really know where he started at.
'I guess an eternity of nothing isn't that bad,' he thought. He was trying to talk, but he really didn't know that he couldn't.
Ginny had finally fallen asleep, but the relief Bill felt after her eyes finally gave way was short lived. Shocking her brother senseless she bolted upright sitting in her bed.
"DON'T GIVE UP!" Ginny screamed at the top of her lungs. She then collapsed back in her bed in a deep sleep.
Ron and Hermione rushed to her side just as her head hit the pillow. Arthur was running at top speed taking steps two at a time to get to her room.
"Is…she…awake?" he asked between gasps of breath.
"Not anymore," Bill answered, a frown tugging his lips down.
Hermione sat there in a chair, concerned almost to tears but she held them back. She needed to be strong, besides, that hadn't even heard any news yet.
Ron sat beside Hermione. His hand snaked into hers without him realizing it, and he gave it a reassuring squeeze. He just didn't know if he was trying to reassure Hermione, or himself.
Arthur deflated at his son's words, "Please let me know if she does," Bill nodded.
A tiny white circle had just manifested itself to a surprised Harry. Not even thinking about it he started to walk toward it. With each step the circle grew just a little bit larger. The blackness seemed to fight it though because sometimes the size would shift a little making it smaller again. Panicking without knowing why Harry began to sprint. The light now not only became larger, but brighter. So bright Harry thought his eyes were burning. Pushing the pain aside, Harry ran faster.
Faster, and faster, until most of everything was white, he glanced back to find that the darkness was now the small circle on the horizon. Not taking any chances, Harry ran even faster. After what felt like years he turned again, to find there was no black left. He spun three times now, only to still find nothing, even if it was white this time.
Dumbledore had lost all hope. He had failed. Despair began to flood his mind. Not only had he lost the battle of the only way to defeat Tom Riddle (a.k.a. Voldemort), he lost the war of letting Harry live, and become the man that would have been a friend. Feeling older than he had ever felt before, he stumbled to the chair at Harry's desk and collapsed into it. He heard the footsteps approaching, but couldn't really care who it was.
Molly Weasley reached the door; she saw a broken Dumbledore, and then a lifeless Harry. Her knees lost all strength and she fell to them on the floor. Her hand covered her mouth once her jaw fell. Words failed her, all she could do was stare unbelieving.
Dumbledore's neck muscles were on vacation, his chin tucked to his chest. His eyes were unfocused on the floor below him. The soft knock of wood falling on wood startled him out of his thoughts as he looked around to find where the noise had come from. Then he found it, Harry's wand was rolling on the floor. Molly gasped again before she fainted.
"Harry," an unfamiliar voice echoed throughout the whiteness surrounding Harry.
'Yes?' he answered with a questioning tone.
"You are not dead," it answered flatly.
'Great, I can't even do that right,' he answered dryly.
"Would you rather return to the darkness?" the voice asked him.
'No," Harry answered. Truthfully he was expecting to meet with his loved ones after death. He assumed he screwed that up by killing himself, and he would be condemned by an eternity of nothing. He hadn't been here but a couple of hours and he already could feel what little sanity he came with slipping away.
"In order to leave, you have to figure some things out," the voice boomed through wherever he was.
'What do I have to figure out?' Harry asked.
"Simple," the voice continued, "all you have to figure out is this: Who are you?"
'How do I do that?' he asked in a pleading thought.
"All you have to do to start is figure out that you don't know who you are."
Growing frustrated Harry harrumphed.
The voice asked, "Do you accept?"
Thinking about it, no, he really didn't want to die. He really did have reasons to live. Growing sad he thought of all the people he loved and cared for. Only this morning he ran from them, and now he was on the edge of death. He thought back to his life, his career goal of being an Auror, dating Cho Chang, blowing up at the people around him, no, he really didn't know himself.
'Yes,' Harry thought, guilt weighing down his soul, 'I accept that I don't know who I am.'
"Very good young one, then let us begin," the voice boomed
Dumbledore was flabbergasted has he looked to where the wand had been resting. Harry's chest was moving, Harry was breathing. Stepping over Molly Weasley he reached the bedside and rested two fingers on Harry's neck. The pulse was weak, but it was there. He quickly turned around and bent over the nonofficial adopted mother of Harry Potter. With a quick, "Enervate!" her eyes fluttered open.
"Albus, he, he's alive?" she said in a voice that betrayed her emotions. Concern, despair, and confusion were written on her face.
"Yes, he is, but he is in bad shape. Please take this and return with Poppy."
Dumbledore reached and grabbed a quill from Harry's desk and charmed it as a portkey.
"It will take you straight there, and when both of you touch it, it will come directly back here."
Mrs. Weasley nodded with all the conviction she could muster, which at the time amounted to her head barely moving. She grabbed the quill, and was gone.
Not but two minutes later two women flashed into existence beside the bed.
"Headmaster, what happened?" Madam Pomfrey asked.
Dumbledore's eyes still blank replied, "I believe he tried to commit suicide."
She gasped but the Healer inside her inquired, "How?"
Dumbledore reached down and picked up Harry's wand and muttered, "Prior Incantato"
The ghost of the last spell manifested itself from the tip of Harry's wand.
Another tear fell into the beard of Albus Dumbledore, "He performed the Avada Kedavra on himself."
Mrs. Weasley broke into sobs, Madam Pomfrey only managed to say, "Oh my."
"He killed himself," the glee in his voice was still resonating. His laughter still echoed throughout the room. "All these years of trying to kill the brat, and he does it for me!"
Lord Voldemort was pleased. No, he was ecstatic. He was in such a good mood he even smiled when Bellatrix spoke.
"He killed himself master?"
"Yes, he his gone!" Voldemort replied, overjoyed that he caught the last vision of his link with The-Boy-Who-Lived and now felt no connection at all.
"M-Master, this i-is excellent news," Wormtail exclaimed.
Voldemort's good mood slipped a little, "Thank you for stating the obvious Wormtail." He hissed this more than said it.
"S-Sorry my Lord," Wormtail cringed for speaking while in his shock.
"This means we celebrate! Bellatrix, gather all of those you can find, we have some comrades waiting for their release."
The white room began to fill. Harry recognized every place that now filled the blankness.
"Follow the road, at the end if you do not know yourself, you are lost and will remain in nothing for eternity," the voice said to Harry who looked to see a red brick road leading through all of the places he knew.
Upon farther examination Harry realized the things that looked like buildings were in fact memories. His memories. The road lead to the first set and a door awaited him. Tentatively he opened it. He was engulfed; the memories flooded his every conscious thought. St. Mungo's where his parents and their friends were gathered. A home he had never seen, his mother singing him a lullaby. Godric's Hollow and his parents' death. Hagrid flying him to the Dursleys. Dudley pinching him and becoming spoiled. All those years sleeping under the stairs, all of his accidental magic. His letter, all of his letters from Hogwarts, Hagrid rescuing him on his eleventh birthday. Buying school supplies, Hedwig, the first train ride and meeting Ron, Hermione, and Neville. His second year, and Ginny, the chamber, Lockhart, everything. Third year and meeting Lupin, Sirius, the Tri-Wizard tournament, Cedric, Voldemort regaining his body, Umbridge, Malfoys, hose elves. Everything he ever lived through flooded his mind in chronological order, and then he was on the road again.
"We must move him somewhere safe where we can keep an eye on him," Madam Pomfrey said while checking Harry's vitals. She knew he had a heartbeat, but not much of one.
"Can we travel by portkey in his condition?" Mrs. Weasley asked.
"It shouldn't be too risky, but we must hurry," The Healer of Hogwarts replied.
Dumbledore made another portkey out of the quill again grabbed Harry's hand and placed his own around Harry's hand around the quill. Molly and Madam Pomfrey too touched the quill. Then Number 4 was again returned to what the Dursleys called normal.
In the entrance hall they landed. Dumbledore had sure to levitate Harry before he fell to the ground.
"Take him to the room Ginny and Hermione share, Ginny too has fallen into an illness," Mrs. Weasley said.
Dumbledore wasted no time in keeping Harry levitated as he rushed to the second floor room, Mrs. Weasley and Madam Pomfrey following in his wake. Upon entering Bill, Ron, and Hermione leapt to their feet at the site of Dumbledore ushering in what looked like a lifeless Harry. Ignoring their questioning faces he placed Harry on the bed beside Ginny's. Ginny meanwhile was still in a deep sleep.
Madam Pomfrey started to work on many different healing spells, her wand flying at a pace it blurred. Then she would retrieve a potion from her robes and pour it down Harry's mouth.
"Professor," Hermione started trembling slightly and biting her lip, "will he be alright?"
Dumbledore sighed and gave her an honest reply, "I don't know Ms. Granger."
"Sir, what happened?" asked Ron "Was he attacked?"
"Unfortunately Mr. Weasley, he did this to himself."
Ron's face lost every ounce of its color. Feeling woozy from the news he sat back down. Hermione broke, and fell to the floor trying to cry out her soul. Bill too sat back down resting his elbows on Ginny's bed, his face planted firmly in his hands.
Harry continued, room to room, building to building. Memories, emotions, every experience that he had ever known were relived and refelt. Including his latest emotion that was dominating the rest, guilt. The guilt was for the last action he felt was necessary during the last time he was conscious. Then, as abruptly as it started, the road came to an end. The buildings of memories vanished and Harry was again surrounded by the nothingness of white.
The voice again boomed through, this time resonating a feeling of power that ran through the soul of Harry.
"WHO ARE YOU?"
'I am Harry James Potter. Gryffindor, Friend, Brother, Son. I am The-Boy-Who-Lived. I am what I need to be. I am weak, I am fragile. I am everything, I am nothing. I am the enemy, I am a foe. I am a hero, and a contradiction. I am the savior."
"Very good. You are who you are, and it is for a reason. Now, wake up."
The voice echoed through the white and it shattered to be replaced by the darkness again.
"WAKE UP!" the voice echoed then the blackness faded to grey.
"Wake up," the voice called softer now.
"Wake up, wake up, please wake up." It was night, everyone in the room had fallen asleep earlier, and Ginny had crawled in bed with Harry. She was softly calling to him when his eyes fluttered open.
"Ginny?" Harry whispered in a hoarse voice.
"Harry! You're awake!" and with that she flung her arms around his neck and cried the tears of pure joy.
He patted her back, all he could think of to say was, "Yeah."
A/N Ok, for anyone reading Rebirth of Hope don't worry I'll still update it whenever I can. I started this one only because I wasn't feeling the next chapter last night :) I don't plan on abandoning either story.
Any reviews would be greatly appreciated, this is the first time I have used this style of writing, so positive or negative let me know.