Memory...beware! Character death!

[Mistress Siana]

Memory



Night fell silently, slowly, too slowly almost to take in, spreading its old, rug-like cloak over blood-soaked earth. Obscuring silence. Waiting. Nothing else is as frightening, as maddening as waiting in the darkness when the horrors of daytime have already stolen upon your mind.

Death steals and death flies.

Memory is a mark burning far deeper inside than the visible ones. Burning chains. Synthesized nightmares. A faint reflection of a dying future, time torn apart mercilessly in front of your eyes.

Death steals, shadow-like and poisonous upon your soul, and death flies, floating emerald green through silent nights.


When Harry awoke, the man that had rescued him was almost dead. His breathing was only barely visible underneath his black robes, a skeletal body shivering from too many curses. Black strands of hair were falling lifelessly into his ever-that-pale face, lightly blowing about in his unsteady breath. He was even thinner than usual, white skin stretching like see-through paper over sharp bones. Eyes forced open, he was staring piercingly at the stirring boy. His thin lips formed a faint yet triumphant smile when he saw Harry open his eyes. "Potter", he hissed. The man's voice cracked. His bloodshot eyes were filled with cold, blank hatred and a distant reflection of pain. "I trust you are aware of how narrow your escape was tonight?"

"Yes, Sir, I am."

Narrow.Harry remembered vaguely that he'd already closed his eyes to meet death when the man had appeared to get him out. Everything had come about too fast to comprehend. Blinding lights, then darkness. Silence. Waking up on a clammy stone floor. Only one brief glance at the man beside him was enough to realize he wouldn't survive the night. A lump built up in his throat. He was dying because he'd rescued him. Rescued him again. How many lives had his vain attempts to save the world claimed? He was the boy who lived while everything around him was dying.

"Potter." the man's voice was barely more than a whisper now. "You have to get out of here. See that staircase in the corner?" Harry turned his head and nodded slightly.

"Very well." The man took in a rattling breath. "Wait about two more hours before you go. Follow the wider path through the forest until you reach Godric's Hollow. Did you understand me?"

"Yes, Sir."

"It is essential that you take the wider one. Under no circumstances take the narrow path! "

"Where are we here?"

"As safe as we can be."

Harry inhaled deeply and leant back against the stone wall, his eyes shut. The moist air smelt old and musty, half-rotten, like a foreign body in his lungs. He felt heavy and tired, very, very tired, as if a ravenous emptiness was consuming him from the inside. He searched the dim light for anything to recognize but he could only make out fragments and the shadow of a stairway. Cold stone everywhere.

Two more hours. In two more hours, he would be alone, and the man beside him would be dead. It was an absurd picture, seeing him like that, him, who never showed any weakness. Harry bit his lower lip so hard he could feel the metallic taste of blood on his tongue. He would not cry. Not in his presence.

-

When Harry stirred up from a light, dreamless sleep, he was unaware of how much time had passed. His clothes drenched from lying on the damp floor, he felt cold and sore. From somewhere outside, he could hear a wolf's dreadful howl cut the night like a scythe.

The man in the corner next to him coughed. "Potter", he hissed, "it's time now."

Again, Harry could only just nod as a reply. If he'd as much as whispered a word, his voice, he feared, would have broken and revealed the pain and fear and guilt he felt.

The man had his arms wrapped around his body and shivered. He seemed to feel terribly cold. Slowly, he turned his head around to face Harry with hostile black eyes. "I." he began, but broke off. It appeared to take all of his strength to keep breathing. "I have.an important information for the headmaster. It is. required.that you deliver it in my place."

"Of course, Sir. What is it, Sir?"

The man's head had fallen back against the wall, his long fingers clinching firmly, almost spastically to a fist. Anxiously, Harry held his breath. Was it over now? Was he dying?

"Do what you have to do", whispered the man, almost inaudibly now.

Do what you have to do.Harry swallowed. He knew pretty well what that meant; it was something the two of them had played through countless times. He reached for his wand, but realized it was gone. Of course, they'd taken it. Reluctantly, he rose to his feet and walked over to the dying man. The sound of his footfalls resonated in the darkness, distorted by the barren walls, muffled and hollow. A cold shiver ran down Harry's spine. Slowly, careful not to make any noise, he knelt down besides the shivering body. He seemed at the verge of death, fighting desperately not to lose consciousness. Harry inhaled deeply and slid a cautious hand inside the man's robe to reach for his wand. He felt his hand shake slightly when he pointed it at the man and whispered "Legilimens".

Harry was overwhelmed by a surge of pictures swilling towards him. The man seemed to desperately try and hold them back, but he was no longer strong enough. A little, black haired girl was playing with a baby doll, singing a lullaby. Rock a bye baby in the treetop, when the wind blows the cradle will rock...strident laughter filled the air, slowly fading into nothingness.again the girl, lying lifelessly in the man's arms. The images became darker, contours blended. Harry felt the man was getting weaker, his time was running out. He needed to find the information.there! A black-robed woman was performing a charm on a little boy.a memory charm. Albus Dumbledore's face was tired, old and worn, and yet there was a sparkle of hope in his light blue eyes when he looked at the young man before him. "Lily and James?" he asked, but the other man only shook his head. Slowly, he removed the hood that concealed his face. "Forgive me", he whispered, his voice cracking, "Forgive me, I failed." The little boy was crying as the woman left.Bellatrix. The woman was Bellatrix Lestrange, and . a dark-haired man slowly fell to his knees before a fresh grave.the crying little boy was... When the bough breaks the cradle will fall... Neville! That was it.

Harry felt cold sweat run down his face when he broke the connection. His whole body trembling, he stared into the man's face. He was hardly breathing now, but his eyes were still half-opened, focusing Harry with a blend of loath and shame. "Leave.now!" he groaned and turned his head away.

Harry wished there was something he could do for the man, but the war had mercilessly taught him realism. He could not save him, he was lost.

Finally, Harry obeyed and rose to his feet, but in his mind, there was a question he couldn't simply let go of. "Sir." he muttered, blushing, "who was the girl?" The man's fingers dug into his robe. "My daughter", he finally whispered, his voice suddenly soft and painful. "They.killed her for my. betrayal." Harry closed his eyes. He knew what it meant to lose.

He wanted to put the wand back inside the man's robes, but then decided that he himself would maybe need it more. He knew he should say thank you, but the words wouldn't pass his lips.he couldn't just plain thank him for giving his life to save him, could he? There had to be something more, something adequate. It all seemed so wrong to him, so very wrong.

After a while, Harry turned around and left without looking back. There was no more to say. The man was dead.

Fin

Disclaimer: You know who.J

Author's notes:

Death steals and death flies.A play with the two possible translations of Voldemort: flight of death and theft of death.

When the bough breaks the cradle will fall... The complete rhyme goes like this:

Rock-A-Bye Baby

Rock a bye baby in the treetop

When the wind blows the cradle will rock

When the bough breaks the cradle will fall

And down will come baby, cradle and all

I still don't know how this came to my mind.Flames? I love flames! Flames! My Flames!!

[Meg Boyd]

i love it...the rhyme bit was awesome...i look forward to reading more of your work!

[pinky p]

it's very good... makes me feel for neville

[Alice I]

Excellent writing. I have found that many of the things you have posted are very poetic and a bit mysterious. Keep writing!