Chapter Text
Burning.
All he could feel was burning.
It nipped at his skin, it stroked his hair, and slipped down his nose. The burning was everywhere, consuming him, and it hurt.
“Ma..ma…” He tried to call, the burning now spilling down into his throat as he whimpered, ice cold fear filling his eyes and spilling onto his cheeks. He could feel it slicing at the flesh, cutting off his voice as it travelled further. He knew what it wanted, holding off each breath for as long as possible. It was almost like it was whispering in his ear, promising death as it grew closer to its goal.
The burning wanted his lungs.
It wanted to swallow him whole.
No matter how hard he tried, even as he crawled across the scorched floor, he couldn't remember how he had gotten into this inferno, surrounded by fire in the very kitchen his Auntie had cooked in not even 3 hours ago.
All he could remember was the screams of the house elves, the cries of his sisters, and the begging of his parents. Not even the roar of the fire could drown them out as he crawled towards the nearest exit, screaming as the skin slowly burnt away from parts of his hands and knees.
He would get out - he had to. Someone would be out there, trying to stop the fire, and he could tell them about his family. Tell them about the screams he'd, where their bedrooms were, and whoever was out there would save them.
Pausing, he allowed himself two deep breaths, ignoring the smoke that clawed at his lungs, creating a path for the burning to follow as it sank lower down his throat.
His mind was racing as the pain grew, his lungs bursting for air but he could not give in. Feeling his thoughts slowly growing fuzzy from the lack of oxygen and smoke inhalation, he tried to force himself toward again.
The door was only a few metres away, he could get there before the fire got to him - he could!
Except his limbs weren't listening to him, giving out and flattening him against the searing hot floor. They wouldn't move even when he tried to army crawl, like some of his muggle friends had shown him.
They wouldn't move at all.
Again, his mind seemed to race against the clock, his flight or fight going into overdrive as every emotion he had ever felt seemed to be reverting to fear, running laps around his brain as he tried to figure out what to do.
But the fire was faster than him, finally catching up to him and devouring his left foot.
Pain - he thought he had felt it before. Falling over while playing, tripping over a rock…even the burning he had felt before was nothing compared to the pain of fire melting his skin off.
Screaming filled the room, and, deep down he knew the screams were coming from his mouth. They were leaving his body and dragging smoke back with them with every breath.
It was all he could hear as he thrashed around, the fire never stopping its attack as he got tangled in something, forcing more fear down his throat as he fought against whoever was wrapped around him.
He was going to die.
He was going to die and he was never going to see his family again.
It was-
“Hey! Wake up, you're safe! You're safe!” A voice suddenly cut through his thoughts, eyes flying open as he was suddenly falling through mid-air.
Well, until his shoulder collided with the wooden floor and his ribs landed on what felt like a pair of shoes.
A groan escaped him as a loud bang echoed around him, eyes squeezing closed.
“What is the meaning of this!” A raspy voice shrieked, stabbing at his ear drums, as heavy footsteps approached him, “Really, this is the last thing I thought you would do, Tom!” The hands that grabbed ahold of him were nothing like the voice that had assaulted his hearing, gently pulling him up into a sitting position before carefully lifting him into their arms and placing him onto what felt like an extremely cheap bed, “I know you didn't want a roommate but Harry is still recovering. You really are a horrible boy - that's an extra hour of gardening for you, as punishment,”
The name Harry sparked recognition in his brain as covers were placed over him and a pillow was fluffed under his head.
Harry was his name, he was sure of it.
“I didn't do anything! He was the one who was making noise and then started screaming. I was trying to help him when he suddenly opened his eyes and rolled off the bed,” Another voice protested, clearly one of a young child - maybe about 8, give or take a year.
The woman who had lifted him onto the bed gasped, walking a bit closer to the bed Harry lay on. He could hear her breathing and see her shadow blocking out the small amount of light he could see through his closed eyelids.
“Harry?” She whispered gently, placing a hand on his shoulder and shaking him ever so gently. The touch shot pain through his nerves, making him whimper slightly and pull away. The movement was significant, if the second gasp that the woman let out was anything to go by, “Tom, look after him while I go call the doctor! He has to know that the boy has woken up!” And then she was running out, her shoes stomping on the wood once again.
Her voice and footsteps were audible for a minute or so, running down stairs and calling out different names before all noise slowly disappeared, shrouding the room in silence.
Harry stayed still for a while, eyes still closed as he processed what had just happened. His mind was blank, the only memories being the one of the fire, which he had apparently just dreamt about, and everything that had happened within the last 3 minutes.
The boy, who had woken him and then apparently gotten in trouble for it, was deathly silent once the woman left but his eyes never left Harry's face. The gaze was heavy and extremely obvious. It was one of those stares that you could feel across a Quidditch Field.
“You don't have to pretend to sleep, we know you're awake,” He suddenly spoke, his voice snide and slightly admonishing.
Harry might have felt ashamed if it wasn't painfully obvious how old this kid was. He might not remember his exact age but he knew it was at least double this boy's age.
A sharp poke suddenly sunk into his shoulder muscle, white hot pain shooting down his arm, causing his eyes to fly back open and a loud ‘Ow’ to shoot from his mouth.
“Knew you were awake,” The voice was smug this time, the offending finger moving away once it had achieved his goal.
Harry knew he couldn't sit up, could tell from the way his muscles felt on the lower half of his body, so he simply turned his head instead. More than one swear word was bubbling from his throat as he looked at the little shit, who thought it was funny to hurt a person who was clearly in pain, but it all floated away once he opened his mouth.
He knew this boy.
Frowning and ignoring the strain it caused on his face muscles, Harry allowed his eyes to move up and lock with the amused ones of the boy.
Something slotted into place in his mind and suddenly everything went fuzzy, his eyes rolling back into his head as his body started to convulse once again.
***
Branches snagged at his abnormally long hair as he ran, dancing through trees and bushes. They couldn't catch him. He wouldn't let them catch him, not when he needed to find Hermione.
Find Hermione and he would find Ron. Only then would the three of them leave. That's what they promised each other - they left together or they didn't leave at all.
But it was dark in the Forbidden Forest, so dark that he had run into more than one tree in the last 10 minutes, tears clouding his vision and falling onto his cheeks. He could feel the salty liquid mixing with the dried blood and dipping into the superficial cuts that were scattered across his skin. It stung, but he ignored it. He deserved the pain, it kept him grounded. Kept his memories of the people he'd lost fresh in his mind.
The faces. He couldn't stop seeing their faces. It was like they were right in front of him but Harry knew better. They weren't here, running alongside him like they had been during the battle. They were on the floors of the castle, unmistakably dead.
Everyone was so convinced that they would win, that this battle would be the one to end the war. They had all looked to him as they prepared to fight, smiling despite the fear that shone in their eyes. They knew Harry would do what he needed to do and save them all.
But instead, Voldemort had reached Hogwarts first. He had gotten there before him and taken the diadem, flaunting it with a grin.
The battle had been for nothing. Their deaths had been for nothing. Harry had failed them all.
Nearly everyone was dead. Those who weren't had fled, running out into Hogsmeade and apparating before they could be caught.
Harry, Hermione and Ron were the only ones left, having separated mere minutes before they lost the battle, and the Death Eaters knew it. They were chasing them. They were going to kill his friends and bring him to his knees in front of Voldemort.
He wouldn't go without a fight and he was sure they knew that.
“Harry!” A voice called ahead of him, knocking him from his thoughts. Forcing himself to blink away the tears as he continued to run, he looked. He really, really looked. His name was called again, but he still couldn't see anything. The forest was too dark and his wand had been left somewhere in the castle, snapped into two.
A body suddenly slammed into him, nearly toppling them both over as they grabbed at each other, steadying themselves. He knew instantly it was Hermione, neither of them saying a word as they hugged, crying.
“Where's Ron?” He whispered into her shoulder, hands rubbing her arms comfortingly as he gently detached himself from the tight grip she held him in.
A hand clapped him on the shoulder, pulling him into another, quicker, hug “I'm right here, mate,” His other best friend whispered, his own voice cracked and slightly wobbly. Harry couldn't blame him, he was sure that he had seen more than one head of bright red hair sprawled against the floor as he ran through the castle and out onto the grounds.
Ron was likely the only Weasley still alive.
The thought was sobering, drowning out all the relief he felt now that he was reunited with his friends.
“Potter!” A voice screamed out, too close for comfort, and pulling all three teens back to reality.
Neither of the boys had even a few seconds to panic, Hermione grabbing both if their hands, steadying them as she took a deep breath, “If either of you get splinched, I will kill you,” She hissed, almost choking on her words as her grip on their hands tightened.
There wasn't even time to crack a smile at the ill timed joke, all three of them being pulled into the tight tunnel of Apparation, a loud pop and rustling of dead leaves being the only things that gave away they were ever there.
If any of them heard Voldemort's excruciatingly loud scream as they left, they didn't mention it.
***
Harry had always adored his older sisters, even if their age gap was wider than their parents had hoped. It didn't bother him and he knew they didn't mind how young he was. They were always kind to him, even when they argued with each other. He was never made aware of why the argument had begun and was never forced to pick sides. Whenever he was around, the two girls acted as if nothing was wrong, playing with and talking to him as they always did.
If Harry noticed their glares or the way they played a bit harsher with each other than usual, he never mentioned it.
Elysia was the oldest out of their group of 3 and she made sure everyone knew it. She had been 2 when Seraphina had been born and 6 when Harry was brought into the world.
It was clear she was the boss of their little games and, even when kids from the neighbourhood joined in, it always remained that way. Harry had respected that from the second he could comprehend it and even now, at 4 years of age, he followed her every word.
Seraphina wasn't as much of a follower as her younger brother. She knew that Elysia would be off to Hogwarts next year and that she would be the leader in her absence. It went to her head occasionally, pushing against the rules of a game they had created or even trying to take over as leader of their little friend group.
Elysia would have none of it and, more often than not, it would end up with both girls running to their parents and leaving Harry to play with the older kids who were friends with his sisters.
Today was one of those days.
Both Elysia and Seraphina had run off towards their manor to find their parents, the younger girl lagging behind in tears and the older storming ahead, face bright red with fury. Neither of them noticed little Harry staring after them, not knowing whether he should follow or stay.
“Hey, Harry, have you learnt to ride a broom yet?” A voice pulled his attention away from his feuding sister, turning towards an older boy called Henrick. Harry had never really liked him but he knew that Elysia did. She really liked him and never stopped talking about him, so Harry knew he couldn't be rude. He'd never allow himself to start something that might lead to this boy snubbing Elysia.
Trying not to come across as rude, Harry shrugged. He had gotten quite good on his training broom but had never ridden a proper broom unless it was with one of his parents.
“Well, want to join in on our game until your sisters get back? I brought a spare one, just for you,” The boy's words were sly, a hint of a grin pulling at his cheeks as he offered Harry the spare broom. The younger boy hesitated, not trusting any of the older kids around him as they quietly giggled. “Unless you really are just a baby, like we all thought,”
All of the group started making baby noises, mocking him with loud laughs as he stared at them all, furious.
He knew he shouldn't grab the broom and join them in their obvious trap but he did. He did snatch the broom from Henrick's hand, cutting off the ‘goo goo gagas’ that were spilling from his lips and he did join them in their game of Quidditch.
The broom went far higher than his training broom ever did, the group of older kids calling him up even higher, the ‘bawk bawk bawks’ of their chicken noses floating down to him everytime he hesitated.
He was sure the world was spinning, the broom handle stabbing his soft palms with splinters as he gripped it tightly, following after the laughing children as they weaved their way through chimneys and tree branches.
Just as Harry thought he was getting the hang of it, his legs no longer shaking with fear as he sped up, dimples seeping into his chubby cheeks as he grinned, giggling with overwhelming joy.
He was so focused on how fun it was to be up so high that he didn't see the other children throwing a Quaffle at each other as they flew around in zigzags, a complicated game of tag taking place.
He didn't even hear the shout from Hendrick as he threw the Quaffle in his direction, too focused on the feel of the wind in his hair to see the large ball flying towards him. He noticed too late, the hard ball colliding with his nose and knocking him back off his broom.
He didn't even hear the screams of his sisters, far down on the ground below him, or the shout of his father as a spell washed around him, slowing his descent until he gently landed onto the floor.
It wasn't until he was on the ground that he felt the pain exploding through his nose, the blood choking him as it drained into his throat, making him gag as he began crying with the pain.
Gentle hands rolled him to his side, stopping the river of blood, and then helped him to sit up, soothing him with soft words, “Harry, darling, tilt your head forward for me - that's it, good boy,”
Harry sighed, relaxing as much as he could with the painful throbbing of what he was sure was a broken nose, his mum was here.
“Dad's going to fix your nose, okay pumpkin? It's going to hurt but try to stay still, I've got you…I've got you,” She whispered, lifting him onto her lap and wrapping her arms around him. Harry never felt safer than he did in his mother's arms.
If he could stay here forever, he would.
A gentle but firm touch wiped a handkerchief under his nose, clearing some of the blood from his face. He tended in his mother's hold, knowing what was coming next - his sisters had broken more than a few fingers when playing outside. The loud snap and following tears while fixing them was more than enough to prevent Harry from ever playing too rough while outside. The last thing he wanted was a broken bone.
His dad quietly cleared his throat, bringing Harry out of his inner monologue just in time for his nose to crack back into place, a loud gasp the only response he uttered as a waterfall of tears immediately began streaming down his face.
He could feel the blood and tears being syphoned away but they were quickly replaced by more tears, despite the kisses that were being peppered across the crown of his head by his mum.
“Hey, son, it's over. You're okay now, just cry it out, we've got you,” It was his dad speaking that time, firm hands stroking gently across his tear streaked cheeks as he muttered comforting words.
This went on for a while, the pain eventually receding and the tears slowly stopping.
Harry allowed himself a few more sniffles before he opened his eyes, his dad's wide smile being the first thing that greeted him.
“There we go! Gosh, you're so brave, Harry, don't you think so Elowen?” His dad's voice was proud as he hoisted Harry back onto his feet, offering a hand to help his wife back to hers as well.
Elowen smiled widely at her husband and son, gently brushing away a stray tear from Harry's cheek, “I certainly do, Edric. Our brave boy,” She suddenly dived down, attacking Harry's face with kisses, careful to avoid his nose as he let out a squeal.
“Mum! Elysia's friends will see,” He protested, even as a smile tugged at his lips, attempting to pull away.
“Oh I don't think that's something you have to worry about, darling,” His mother reassured as she planted one more kiss on his cheek before pulling away, “I think your sister is holding their attention,”
Harry turned to see what his mum was referring to, eyes widening at the sight of his older sister yelling at all of her friends - especially Hendrick, her longtime crush.
“I saw you chuck the Quaffle at him when he wasn't looking! Even I could see that he wasn't looking at you and I was on the ground - he's four years old, how horrible can you get! If I ever see you bullying my brother like that again, I will end you!” She yelled, her cheeks a furious red. Seraphina was standing beside her, their previous argument forgotten as they told off the kids that had hurt their little brother.
Harry couldn't help the soppy grin that plastered itself across his face as he watched them defend him, yelling at the whole group of their shame-faced friends.
He really did adore his sisters.
***
Something was wrong - he could feel it. Feel it in the way the air seemed to crackle near his fingertips, in the way that his head spun whenever he moved too quickly. Thoughts whirled and blood rushed in and out of his face.
Yes. Something was very, very wrong.
His parents waved off his worries with a smile, glancing at his aunt, who had come around to cook their favourite meal, with knowing looks.
Harry knew what they thought he was trying to do. His eldest sister, Elysia, was off to Hogwarts in the morning and he hadn't exactly been quiet about how he felt about it. She would be gone until Yule or maybe even Easter, if she decided to stay at Hogwarts for the winter holidays. How was he supposed to act normal when his sister, one of the people he loved most in the world, would be gone from his life for so long.
A part of him even wondered if his deep sense of danger was a chain reaction from his stress of being separated from his elder sister. The Gryffindor family was well known for how close they were, after all. Long term separation had never been something they'd dealt with well, but since the time of the founders.
No, Harry thought to himself as he tossed and turned in his bed, this wasn't what his parents thought it was. Something bad was going to happen. It was.
Finally, he sat up, stiffly moving himself until his back rested against the wall, his shirt riding up ever so slightly, a sensation of relief flowing through his veins as hot skin met cooling stone. The duvet was tangled around his legs, an annoying situation that he didn't feel inclined to fix despite the numbness that their awkward position caused.
It was a nice change, the numbness. It took away the restlessness that had kept his legs shaking for most of the day and half of the night.
He didn't know what to do. What could he do, at 5 years old? Without his parents believing his word, he was stuck here, dread practically sleeping out of every pore.
This feeling had only happened once before, at a time when he had not been able to talk as well as he could now. It had taken over him on his 3rd birthday and, 18 hours later, his grandparents had both been killed.
A coincidence, maybe. But Harry couldn't sleep either way. How could he when the ominous shadow of death seemed to hover over him? It was waiting, he knew, but not for him. It didn't want him. Never wanted him.
Harry blinked, lips pressing together tightly at his last thought as he kicked his legs madly, trying to free himself from the tangled web of his duvet. Blood flooded through the second he was free, the feeling of needles stabbing him as he took a wobbly step off the bed, the cold floor doing no favours for his numb toes.
Bedtimes were strict in his house, but, for once, Harry decided to ignore them, a sudden drought taking over his throat as he walked out the slightly open door of his room, smacking his mouth distastefully. He needed a drink and he knew there was a fresh jug of Pumpkin juice down in the cooling cupboard.
It was for breakfast but what his parents didn't know wouldn't hurt them.
He was almost to the stairs, tiptoeing carefully through several hallways, when a creak made his head snap to the left. He nearly screamed at the sight of an eye watching him through a partly opened door but stopped himself just in time, recognizing the distinct green colour that matched his own.
It was only Elysia, thank Merlin.
“What are you doing up?” She whispered, her new wand gripped in her hand despite the fact that she could not use it yet, “Mum and dad will have a fit if they see you,” Her words were warning but her tone was mischief and it made Harry smile in a way that only his sisters could achieve.
He didn't answer her question, simply staring at her as a matching smile took over her forced frown, wand hand dangling by her side. The sight of her made his own smile slip off his face immediately, a subtle grief settling over his chest as he realised she'd be gone tomorrow.
Elysia stared at his shiny eyes with a worried look, seemingly knowing what he was thinking before he could even express it to her. She ran to him, not even flinching as a floorboard creaked under her feet, wrapping him up in a tight hug, “Oh, Harry, please don't be upset. I'm only going to Hogwarts, and it won't be for that long,”
“You will be gone for so long,” He whined back in return, stomping his little foot as he spoke, relaxing into her hold. His sister didn't reply, just holding him tighter and rocking the both of them side to side until Harry finally spoke again, his voice practically a whisper, “You won't forget me, will you?”
“Forget you?” She instantly pulled away from him in shock, eyebrows knitted together, “I could never forget you, or Seraphina. You both mean the world to me - you're my brother, Harry. I love you more than you'll ever know,”
Harry just pulled her back into a hug, her words relaxing him ever so slightly. His feeling of dread remained, an ever growing pit in the bottom of his stomach, but he ignored it. It wasn't important at the moment.
“And hey,” His sister continued, stroking his hair from his forehead gently, “If you ever miss me too much, just write a letter to the Headmaster asking to visit. He can't say no to a descendant of Godric Gryffindor, can he?” She grinned at him, eyes lighting with mischief when he mirrored her expression, “Did you want to sleep with me tonight?”
Harry followed her gaze to where her bedroom door was, still half open. It had been a while since he'd spent the night in her room, despite the nightmares that had been plaguing him for several days now. Still, he nodded, not caring that he was too old to be comforted by his sister. She was leaving soon and Seraphina wasn't nearly as kind when it came to being woken up in the middle of the night.
“I want a drink first,” Harry's voice was noticeably raspy as he spoke, making him cringe.
Elysia smiled, shaking her fondly, “Of course, did you want me to get you one?”
Harry shook his head, knowing that she'd never let him drink the pumpkin juice if she came along to the kitchen, “I can do it,”
Ruffling his hair once more, Elysia left him to get the drink, retreating back into her bedroom as Harry began his tiptoe walk again.
Neither of them noticed their parents watching them from around the corner, eyes misty after watching their children talk. They smiled at each other as they went back to their own bedroom, deciding not to alert either child that their conversation had been overheard. They really had gotten the best when it came to their children.
-
Sometimes Harry cursed being as young as he was, despite getting away with most things because of it. Being young meant being short and being short meant he could not reach the cooling cupboard.
Huffing to himself, he dragged a chair over as quietly and quickly as he could. Elysia would be expecting him to use the jug of water that was on the table, so he knew he couldn't linger too long or else she'd come looking.
Moving quickly, he pulled himself onto the chair and opened the cupboard. A blast of cold air hit him in the face, making him blink rapidly as he reached for the ice cold pumpkin juice.
It was a bit of a manoeuvre, getting it out, as there was food stacked in front of it but Harry managed. Grinning to himself, he started lifting the jug to his lips, too thirsty to bother with procuring a glass.
A scream suddenly cut through the thick silence of the night, making Harry jerk backwards with a gasp.
He lost his footing almost instantly, the jug tumbling from his hands and smashing onto the floor just as another scream flew through the house. It seemed to echo inside his brain and, soon enough, he had fallen down onto the floor as well.
His forehead slammed onto the stone, several pieces of jagged glass cutting through his skin and lodging itself deep. His own scream now left his lips, fat tears immediately rolling down his chubby cheeks as he attempted to stand.
“Harry!” His mother's voice was clear as day, floating down from upstairs mere seconds after he had screamed, but her attention didn't last long, desperate pleas and sobs ripping from her lips instead, “No, please! We have nothing- no, please, please, I beg you-”
It was her time to scream now, the horrific sound repeating over and over as she called out Harry's father's name.
Somewhere deep inside, Harry felt a piece of his heart shatter, like someone he loved was now gone.
Death shadow had left him now. He could feel it moving upstairs and he knew what that meant. He knew that his father was dead.
It didn't take long for his mother to stop screaming, her cries cutting off abruptly as Harry felt another part of his heart break off. Her screams were replaced by his sisters, before they too cut off and suddenly Harry was on his feet.
Blood was pouring into his eye, half blinding him as he tried to stumble his way across the room but then everything was orange and the air was hot, making him hiss as the glass that was still embedded in his forehead started to heat up.
“The last little Lion, all alone,” A voice whispered carefully through the room as the subtle orange glow bloomed into flames, blocking the stairs from Harry's hurried approach.
He instantly whipped around, catching himself on a mental handle as he titled to the side. The metal instantly burnt his skin, pulling yet another scream from his throat as he yanked his hand back, blurry vision landing on a tall figure standing across the room. His features were smudged, the blood now flooding into Harry's good eyes as well, but his shock of white blond hair was clear.
“Don't worry, your death will come quickly, little Lion. Fire is an unforgiving foe, even when it comes to the last living Heir of the great Gryffindor dynasty,” His words were laced with amusement, staring at Harry for a few more seconds before he was suddenly gone, apparating out of the house with a laugh that seemed to linger long after he had gone.
Sinking to his knees, Harry let out a sob. His family was dead, he had failed them. They had been murdered in cold blood, scared and without him.
He knew something bad was going to happen, he should have insisted they listen instead of accepting their amused smiles and dismissive words. He could have saved them. He could have saved all of them.
The thought had him crumpling to the ground, curling into a little ball, even as the roaring fire grew closer, and sobbing into his hands.
His family was dead and, soon, he would be too.
***
Harry, Ron, it's ready!” Hermione's voice floated up from the basement into the dusty kitchen, stopping the two boys mid way through their game of Exploding snap. The two merely glanced at each other for a few seconds before jumping up and racing towards and down the stairs, tussling with each other in a way that had Hermione glaring over at them, instantly casting a shield spell around the cauldron she stood by, as the two boys stumbled towards her.
Kreacher, who had somehow survived the battle and joined the three teens mere days after they had arrived at Grimmauld Place, stood on the other side of the cauldron, his own disapproving stare being thrown at the two boys as he threw up his own protection spells around the bubbling cauldron.
None of them could risk even a mere drop of the potion that had taken them months to brew. Not after everything they had risked, both physically and morally, to find and create it.
When Harry had left Grimmauld Place after the disaster in the Ministry, all those months ago, he had never expected to come back. Not when they were all near 100 percent certain that death eaters now had access to it. But, after apparating from the Forbidden Forest, the three of them had landed right onto the front steps of the house they had all thought they'd seen the last of.
It was kind of genius actually, to return to a place the death eaters would never expect them to go - if they had ever really had access to the house in the first place.
It had been hard the first few days of being there, with little to no food as well as having to deal with the grief that came with all of them realising that most of the Order was dead. Their family, their friends, their classmates were all gone and they'd never see them again.
It hit Ron the hardest, the realisation that he was the only surviving member of his family causing a massive breakdown that had taken both Hermione and Harry days to calm down.
Eventually they settled into a routine, one that was helped immensely once Kreacher had rejoined them and was able to summon food from nearby muggle stores to cook for them all. The grief was a constant cloud but they managed to get through it together.
Their friendship had deepened in the time they had spent hiding in the house, in a way that they knew was unhealthy. They were attached at the hip, never straying too far from each other. Anxiety rose the longer and the further they were apart.
It wasn't healthy but they didn't care. They only had each other left.
It had been nearly 3 months since they had arrived when Hermione had found the potion recipe. She'd stumbled on it by accident while browsing the library, the delicate parchment falling out of the pages of a book she had flicked through.
It was a potion of destiny, or so the parchment proclaimed. A potion that would rip the drinker from their undesired life, their unwanted destiny, and give them a new one.
A new life.
A new destiny.
A new dimension.
Harry had expected Hermione to object, proclaiming her usual spiel on not dabble with dark magic. He'd expected Ron to agree with her, to shake his head and mutter something about powers that shouldn't be messed with.
He hadn't expected them to try and gang up on him, listing off planned points on why they should brew the potion and why they needed to leave their current lives, before they ended under different circumstances.
The hug he'd tugged them into had cut them off mid sentence, “You don't need to convince me, I was sold the second Hermione showed it to us,”
And so they had begun to brew the potion.
Never had the three of them been so thankful for Kreacher, not even after he had cooked them their first proper meal in nearly a year. The elf was beyond helpful, using his connections to procure every ingredient they needed - even the toenails of a long dead murderer.
None of them had asked where he had found them, simply sprinkling them into the potion before running off to thoroughly scrub their hands.
A unique aspect of this potion was that it had to be brewed by the amount of people wishing to drink it - something that had stressed Hermione out immensely.
It had take months of brewing, stealing, chanting and questioning if it was even going to work but it was finally finished, already ladeled out into three individual glasses.
“So, do we just drink it?” Ron asked, now finished with his mini tussle with Harry, eyeing the glass closest to him with mild distrust, “You're sure there's no chant or, Merlin forbid, a dance we have to do?”
Harry snorted at the thought of them dancing before drinking the potion that would hopefully change their destiny. The thought of a new destiny instantly sobered his amusement, the smirk slipping off his face as he thought about being free of the prophecy's clutches.
No more duelling, no more Voldemort - no more near deaths.
No more planned destiny for him.
If he drank this potion, he would be free of all dark lords and his destiny would be his own.
“Harry?” Hermione's gentle voice cut through his thoughts, her soft brown eyes meeting his worriedly, “I was just saying that the recipe instructs that any group of people wishing to go to the same new dimension should be touching in some respect, or else we'll be whisked away to different dimensions from each other,”
Instantly, Harry nodded, pushing all thoughts of a free life from his mind, and allowed himself a grin, “Okay, so…” He picked up his glass of potion, his friends mirroring his action, their hands already clasped, “We should probably link arms then, Hermione, or else you won't be able to drink from your glass,”
The trio sorted themselves out, shuffling around until they were close enough for Hermione and Harry to link arms.
“Masters, Mistress,” Kreacher suddenly broke his silence, tears welling up in his eyes as he approaching the three of them and bowed, his ears flopping forward dramatically, “It has been an honour to serve you,”
Hermione's eyes widened, her own tears appearing as she realised what the grumpy old house elf had called her, “The honour has been ours, Kreacher, truly,”
Beside her Ron nodded in agreement, hand still gripping his girlfriend's as he said his goodbyes to the elf.
“After we leave, you're free to do what you wish, Kreacher. If you wish to serve Narcissa or Draco, the last members of the Black Family, you can,” A small twinge stabbed at his heart as he realised that what he said was true. Andromeda may have been disowned but she was still a Black by blood and therefore so was Tonks but they had been killed during the battle.
The thought made the pool of tears in his eyes spill over, dashing across his cheeks before dripping off his jaw and soaking into his shirt collar.
“Kreacher wishes to stay here, in his home, Master. He wishes to die besides Mistress Walburga,” The house elf grumbled, his eyes hopeful and shiny.
As if Harry could deny the house elf his last wish, despite how strange it was, giving his acceptance to the elf with a small grin as Kreacher beamed at him.
“Are we ready then?” Ron asked, leaning forward to look at both Hermione and Harry's face, smiling when they both nodded.
3…
2…
1…
All three gulped down the potion as quickly as they could, expecting a foul taste. Instead they tasted nothing, as if they were drinking water, but they certainly didn't complain, mentally thankful that they didn't have to fight to keep the potion in their stomachs - as they once had done with polyjuice potion.
At first, nothing happened, the three of them staring at each other as their grip on each other grew tighter. Hermione dropped her glass, letting it shatter as she quickly darted her hand down to grab Harry's, making sure that their skin stayed in contact no matter what.
A few more seconds of nothing passed, Harry frowning as he opened his mouth to speak, before their surroundings suddenly melted away, swirling into a vortex of every colour possible. The beauty of it made them all gasp, unable to look away as the three of them stared into what they could only assume was the multiverse.
The floor was the last to disappear, the firm safety of the stone vanishing from beneath their feet as they suddenly fell back into the neverending vortex. Their grips on each other's hands had never been so harsh, almost bone breaking as they all screamed into the abyss despite no sound leaving their lips.
Suddenly the swirling tornado of colours seemed to speed up, whipping them around and around and around until they were sure they were going to throw up, both Harry and Ron lifting their spare hand up to press against their mouth.
Harry could feel his hand starting to slip from Hermione's as they continued falling, still being whipped around like ragdolls, and she could see the same thing happening to her other hand, despite Ron grabbing at her with his other hand.
It was all moving too quickly, he was barely holding onto Hermione by their fingers. Thinking quickly, he tried to copy Ron and tried to grab onto her with his spare hand but an unknown scream suddenly split into his mind, pain ripping through his body as both of his hands slapped across his ears, attempting to block out the sound.
He realised his mistake too late, the swirling vortex separating him away from his friends before he could even realise they were gone, a soundless cry leaving his lips as he realised he was alone. He was alone.
“Please,” Harry tried to scream into the coloured nothingness, despite knowing that no sound would leave his mouth, “Please stop this! STOP THIS!”
All of the colours suddenly vanished, a harsh slap sending his head flying to the side as he gasped in pain. He only had time to realise that he had actually made a sound before everything went black.