Chapter Text
“I wish to interrogate him!” shouted Umbridge angrily, and Snape looked away from Harry back into her furiously quivering face, “I wish you to provide me with a potion that will force him to tell me the truth!”
“I have already told you,” said Snape smoothly, “that I have no further stocks of Veritaserum. Unless you wish to poison Potter- and I assure you I would have the greatest sympathy with you if you did- I cannot help you. The only trouble is that most venoms act too fast to give the victim much time for truth-telling.”
Snape looked back at Harry, who stared at him, frantic to communicate without words.
Voldemort’s got Sirius in the Department of Mysteries , he thought desperately. Voldemort’s got Sirius–
“You are on probation!” shrieked Professor Umbridge, and Snape looked back at her, his eyebrows slightly raised, “You are being deliberately unhelpful! I expected better, Lucius Malfoy always speaks most highly of you! Now get out of my office!”
Snape gave her an ironic bow and turned to leave. Harry knew his last chance of letting the Order know what was going on was walking out of the door.
“He’s got Padfoot!” he shouted, “He’s got Padfoot at the place where it’s hidden!”
Snape had stopped with his hand on Umbridge’s door handle.
“Padfoot?” cried Professor Umbridge, looking eagerly from Harry to Snape, “What is Padfoot? Where what is hidden? What does he mean, Snape?”
Snape looked round at Harry. His face was inscrutable. Harry could not tell whether he had understood or not, but he did not dare speak more plainly in front of Umbridge.
“I have no idea,” said Snape coldly, “Potter, when I want nonsense shouted at me I shall give you a Babbling Beverage. And Crabbe, loosen your hold a little. If Longbottom suffocates it will mean a lot of tedious paperwork and I am afraid I shall have to mention it on your reference if ever you apply for a job.”
Harry’s heart pounded against his ribs as Snape’s footsteps receded into the corridor beyond Umbridge’s office. His last hope had walked out the door. He couldn’t be sure if Snape understood his cryptic message, or worse, if he would act on it.
Voldemort’s got Sirius in the Department of Mysteries , he thought desperately, still, even though the man was gone, Voldemort’s got Sirius-
Umbridge’s chest rose and fell erratically, her eyes wild with fury. The door clicked shut, sealing the room in an oppressive silence. She took a deep breath, gripping her wand so tightly her knuckles turned white.
"Very well," she hissed, each syllable dripping with malice, "You leave me no choice, Potter. Ministry security demands answers, and I will have them."
Harry’s stomach dropped.
"Professor," Hermione interjected shakily, her voice strained with panic, "You- you can’t! You’re not allowed-"
"Silence!" Umbridge shrieked, her voice reverberating through the office.
She pointed her wand at Hermione, and the girl flinched.
"I have been far too lenient already."
She turned back to Harry, her lips curling into a predatory smile.
"The Cruciatus Curse ought to loosen your tongue," she said softly, as though savoring the words, "It’s not illegal when used in matters of state."
Harry’s breath hitched. His mind screamed for a way out, but he was pinned, his wand confiscated and his friends restrained.
"No!" Hermione’s voice cracked, desperation bleeding into every syllable, "Please, don’t!"
Umbridge’s face was alight with twisted triumph, her wand shaking slightly as she pointed it at Harry.
“Very well…” she hissed, “You leave me no choice… Crucio! ”
Pain exploded through Harry’s body like fire racing through his veins. Every nerve screamed. It was as though he was being torn apart, molecule by molecule. He gasped, the sound raw, ripped from his throat. It was as though white-hot knives were tearing through his body, ripping his nerves to shreds. He heard his own screams echo in the room, distant and distorted, as if coming from someone else.
“Where is he? Tell me!” Umbridge shrieked, her voice warped, distant, as though it came from underwater.
The room blurred; reality dissolved into the agony coursing through him. He couldn’t see, couldn’t think- just pain, pain, pain. His thoughts fragmented like shattered glass.
I’m dying.
The Cruciatus curse lifted for a fraction of a second, and Harry’s head lolled forward. He caught the faintest glimpse of Hermione, her face pale, horrified, her mouth moving- screaming, maybe? He couldn’t hear her anymore. Even if he wanted to scream for her, the pain had stolen his voice, leaving him gasping and writhing against the ropes binding him to the chair.
“Answer me!” Umbridge spat, her wand slicing the air, “ Crucio! ”
The agony intensified, impossibly worse than before. His back arched violently, and his vision swam with black spots. He could hear Hermione’s sobs, Neville’s muffled protests, Ginny’s sobbing and Ron’s furious shouts, but they felt distant, like echoes in a storm.
"Tell me the truth, Potter!" Umbridge screeched, "Tell me where Albus Dumbledore is!"
Harry’s head lolled forward as the curse lifted for a moment, his chest heaving as he struggled to breathe. Blood dripped from where his nails had dug into his palms, but he raised his head, locking eyes with Umbridge, finding his voice again, finding an unknown strength inside him.
"Go… to… hell," he rasped, defiance burning in his emerald gaze.
Her face twisted in rage, and she raised her wand again.
" CRUCIO! "
The curse slammed into him again. White-hot agony seared every inch of his body. Harry’s head hit the floor as the ropes let him go, but he couldn’t feel it. Couldn’t feel anything beyond the pain. His fingers twitched uncontrollably. His vision swirled. Fragments of memory forced their way into his mind:
A giant on a flying motorcycle cradling him in enormous arms.
Green light and a scream that tore the air.
A cupboard under the stairs. Cold. Dark. Small.
Ron grinning over a chessboard. “You’re going to lose, mate.”
Hermione’s hand slipping into his as they ran through the halls of Hogwarts.
Ginny and Luna walking by the greenhouses, the both of them smiling.
Neville tending to his plant, in the dorm, explaining excitedly to Harry about the properties.
Sirius’s bark-like laugh, his voice filled with life: “You’re more like James than you know.”
The memories came faster now, colliding with the pain, flickering like a broken film reel.
Oh gods, Sirius. I’m so sorry. I love you. I’m so sorry.
The curse stopped. A haze of blood and tears blurred Harry’s vision. He felt his body convulse, his breath hitching. He tasted copper- blood, maybe?
“Speak!” Umbridge screeched, her voice an unbearable shrillness in the chaos of his mind.
He tried. He tried to say something. His lips moved, but no sound came out.
And then the curse again. Crucio.
He didn’t even feel himself scream this time. The pain was beyond anything describable- beyond human comprehension. It swallowed him whole. His mind fractured entirely, nonsensical thoughts spinning wildly:
Was this what his parents felt? Was this how it ended for them?
He saw Lily’s green eyes, her soft voice whispering, “My sweet boy, you are so loved.”
He saw James laughing, ruffling his hair, saying, “Prongslet, you’re going to be brilliant.”
Hermione was screaming. He thought he heard Ron shouting his name. Their voices blurred into static.
The pain receded slightly, and Harry coughed weakly, his vision narrowing. It was darker now. He felt cold.
“...Hermione…” he rasped, barely audible.
Her voice cut through the void for a moment, frantic, desperate, and Harry could feel hands on him, dragging him up, holding him tightly, hugging him. Harry leaned into the touch, shaking, and let out a soft whimper, cupping the face that came down to look at him.
Hermione.
“Harry! Harry, no! Please, NO!”
He saw two heads of blonde hair, one dirty blonde, one pale, almost snow white.
They both looked so soft.
Harry wanted to touch them, to feel the hair in his hands, but it hurt too much.
“P-Potter,” he heard Malfoy whisper, raising his wand, “K-Keep your eyes on Granger. I-I’m going to try to heal you, okay? Me and Lovegood are going to try to help you. I n-need you to stay calm.”
“Oh, Harry,” Luna sighed, “The Thestrals have come for you.”
There was a bang coming from a wand, and a woman screaming. Harry felt a somewhat vindictive satisfaction simply because he knew who it belonged to.
“I’M GOING TO FUCKING KILL YOU!” he heard Neville screech, “YOU’VE GONE TOO FAR, YOU CUNT!”
He blinked slowly, tears mixing with blood.
This wasn’t how it was meant to end.
“I l-love you, Hermione. Y-You’re my s-sister.”
“H-Harry,” Ron wept, “Don’t do this to me, mate. Please, H-Harry. S-Stay awake.”
Harry turned his head to look at Ron.
His brother in arms.
“L-Love you, R-Ron...” Harry smiled, “I-I love you b-both.”
His hand fell from Hermione’s face as Ginny let out a piercing scream and the door banged open.
“WHERE IS HE?!” Snape bellowed, “POTTER?!”
“HE’S FUCKING DYING!!!” Ginny screamed back, and Harry just knew there would be murderous fire in her eyes, “HE’S FUCKING DYING BECAUSE YOU COULDN’T TAKE A HINT!”
Ron let out a sob, his forehead connecting with Harry’s, cupping Harry’s cheeks, tears falling down his face onto Harry’s as he kissed his best friend’s temple softly.
Right on his scar.
“It’s okay, H-Harry. Don’t listen to them now. Sleep now, mate. We love you too.”
Harry let out a sob as Ron began to stroke his hair and hum to himself, obviously trying to calm himself down. Everyone else was beginning to dim. Emerald eyes looked into sapphire blue, and Harry smiled softly, despite himself, knowing the last thing he would see would be his best friend, his big brother .
“R-Ron…” Harry choked out, “R-Ron, I-I’m s-scared-”
“Sssh. I know you’re scared, mate. I’m scared too, but it’s going to be okay. I love you, Harry. You’re my best friend. My little brother. I love you so much, mate.”
"L-Love y-you, Ron-"
The world dissolved into black. The pain faded to nothing. Harry couldn’t see anything anymore.
“I love you, Harry.”
And then, silence.
A pale, weightless haze enveloped Harry, pressing against his senses like a fog he couldn't quite penetrate. The world was quiet, yet a faint echo of voices- familiar, urgent- began to filter through the stillness. His body felt heavy, disconnected, as though the tether binding him to reality had been severed. Slowly, awareness began to return.
"Who is it?" a woman's voice asked, soft but trembling, "James, who is it? Who’s come?"
Harry's eyelids fluttered as a sharp jolt of recognition tugged at his heart. That voice... He strained to open his eyes, his head pounding with every effort.
"I don’t know," a man’s voice replied, equally familiar, edged with growing fear, "They just... appeared. Lily, they-"
And then the woman let out a piercing scream, her voice laced with anguish so raw it struck Harry like a physical blow.
"No! No, James, it can’t be… It’s… HARRY!"
The scream jolted him fully awake, his eyes snapping open. Harry found himself sitting upright with a gasp, his hands clutching the strange, soft surface beneath him. He was clad in a flowing white robe, and everything around him was awash in a muted glow, as if the world itself had been painted in shades of silver and pearl. Slowly, he turned his head, and his breath hitched in his throat.
Standing before him were Lily and James Potter, their faces frozen in identical expressions of shock and horror. They looked younger than in the photos Harry had seen- youthful, alive, and achingly real.
"Mum? Dad?" he whispered, his voice cracking with disbelief.
For a fleeting moment, joy sparked in his chest. He’d dreamed of this for so long.
But they didn’t move. James’s face crumpled first. He staggered forward, his hands shaking as they hovered near Harry’s face but didn’t touch him, as though afraid he might shatter. Tears welled in James’s eyes and began spilling over, unchecked.
"What happened to you, Harry?" James croaked, his voice thick with grief, "What did they do to my baby?"
"James…"
Lily’s voice cracked, barely a whisper. She pressed a trembling hand to her mouth, tears streaming down her cheeks.
"I can’t… I can’t fix it…"
Harry frowned, confused.
"What are you talking about?" he asked, his own voice rising with unease, "I- why are you looking at me like that?"
Lily closed her eyes briefly, her hand twitching as though she longed to reach for him. When she opened them, something appeared in her grasp- a mirror, simple yet shining. She held it out to him, her movements jerky, almost reluctant.
"Take it," she whispered.
Harry hesitated, but her expression left no room for argument. He reached out, his hand steady despite the growing dread curling in his stomach. The mirror’s surface shimmered as he tilted it, and then… he saw.
A scar- no, a web of scars- ran down the left side of his face like jagged lightning bolts, starting from his temple and twisting cruelly over his ;eft cheek and jaw. One lock of his jet-black hair had turned stark white, and his left eye… It was clouded, unseeing, a pale, glassy echo of the green in his right.
Harry’s breath caught. His reflection stared back at him, unfamiliar and broken.
"Oh," he murmured, "Oh."
He lowered the mirror, his hands shaking.
"I… I was killed," he said softly, his voice distant, "The Cruciatus. Umbridge… She used it. I think it was five times, but I don’t know how long each one lasted. There was… blood. And vomit."
He swallowed hard, the memory clawing at him like a beast.
"Everywhere."
James’s legs gave out, and he fell to his knees in front of Harry. He grabbed Harry’s face gently but firmly, his thumbs brushing over the unmarred side of his son’s face as if to convince himself this was real.
"This is my fault," James whispered hoarsely, "This is my punishment. I couldn’t protect you. I couldn’t… Lily, do something! Please, do something! DO ANYTHING, LILY!"
Lily’s face crumpled, and she shook her head.
"I can’t," she whispered.
Her voice was barely audible, choked with helpless fury.
"James, I can’t fix this."
Harry placed his hands over his father’s trembling ones, pulling them gently away from his face.
"Dad, stop," he said firmly, though his voice trembled, "Stop. It’s over. I… I’m dead. There’s nothing to fix."
The words hung heavy in the air, and silence fell. Then, a new presence made itself known.
A figure emerged from the glowing mist, tall and strikingly familiar. Harry froze as he took in the being’s features: messy black hair, pale skin, and green eyes- but these eyes suddenly glowed white, devoid of pupils, and the figure exuded an aura that was both serene and terrifying.
The figure smiled, tilting its head.
"Hello, Harry," it said, "We need to talk."
Lily and James instinctively moved closer to Harry, shielding him.
"Who are you?" James demanded, his voice sharp with protectiveness despite the tears still streaking his face.
The figure raised an eyebrow.
"I’m Harry," it said simply, "Or rather, I’m known as Death now. But yes, I do look like him still, as to make sure I don't scare people with my... other form. Convenient, isn’t it?"
Harry blinked, his mind racing.
"You… You’re Death?"
The figure nodded.
"And you, Harry Potter, are to be my master. Well… for now, at least."
Lily’s hands tightened into fists, her eyes blazing.
"What do you mean, 'for now'? What is this?"
Death- Harry - sighed.
"It’s a long story. But don’t worry, Mrs. Potter. I’m here to explain everything. And when I’m done, you’ll understand why Harry’s journey is far from over. Well, everyone’s journey. As a family. As… well, Harry, James and Lily Potter."
Harry stared at the figure, his scarred face reflected in Death’s white eyes.
His heart thudded heavily in his chest as he asked, "What do you mean… our journey ?"
Death’s smile widened, enigmatic and unnerving.
"Let’s begin, shall we? Would you all care for some chai?"