Categories > Books > Harry Potter > He's Gone4 Reviews
What if despair broke Harry, taking away his magic? What if his despair was so deep it took away the surrounding magic as well? Post-OotP AU fic
Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter. If I did, you would wish I wouldn't. Trust me on that.
A/N: Cheers to LunaMoon224 for looking this over, and to John for giving me a very constructive overview of what I did wrong. Some of them I corrected, some I did not.
Harry was in his bed, the sheets soaked with cold sweat. His hands were clenching and unclenching, out of his control as he shook his head in denial. His lower lip trembled and he began muttering.
He isn't dead! He isn't dead! He can't be - dead! Sirius! Don't go! You're not dead! Sirius, come back! Sirius?"
With a muted sob, Harry awoke and rolled over, burying his head in his pillow. He cried silently, hiding any noise with practiced efficiency. It wouldn't please the Dursleys to be woken up. He fell asleep after a few hours, and the nightmares began again, following the pattern that had begun the night he had arrived at the Dursleys.
The small office was the same as ever. Spindly tables filled with mysterious devices, a large bookcase and the large desk dominated the round room. An old man sat behind the desk, his wand in his hand. Slowly, he touched the tip of the short stick to his temple, letting it rest there for a brief moment. Without any expression, he pulled the wand away.
A strand of smoky substance was attached to the tip of the wand, connecting it to his temple. The man pulled until the strand was a few inches long, when, with a small pop, it came free of his temple, dangling from the wand. With the barest hint of tiredness, the man let the strand fall into a small, shallow stone basin that rested on the desk. Runes marked the edge of the basin, some of them half-obscured by the swirling mass of smoky substance that filled it. After the new strand was in, the man gave a small sigh and leaned back in his chair.
His hands went to his eyes and he rubbed them tiredly. Suddenly, a short musical trill cut into the silence, and the man seemed to draw strength from it.
"Thank you, Fawkes," the man said. "I -" he trailed off as one of the many devices in his office began to make a chiming noise. Dumbledore's face lost the tired expression at once. With great, flowing strides, he crossed to the fireplace and threw a pinch of green powder in it. He stepped into the green flames and said, in a clear but worried tone, "Arabella Figg's residence."
The plan fell apart the moment it began. They were supposed to Apparate in, capture their target and vanish with as little fuss as possible. Instead, the found themselves unable to Apparate to the provided coordinates.
Bellatrix swore. There had been no problem with Apparition the previous week, when she had scouted the area. Before any of the five Death Eaters she had with her had any chance to question her, she vanished.
"Quickly, go to the park. Apparition is still possible there," she instructed them after coming back.
With curious looks, they listened to the numbers she listed and vanished with a series of pops. Muttering another curse, Bellatrix followed them. Once they were regrouped, they Disillusioned each other and began moving towards their target. The trip was quick and they went unnoticed in the dark streets.
Bellatrix whispered her commands to Dolohov, her second-in-command, and moved to her position in front of the door to the house. A minute later, all the Death Eaters were in position as well, surrounding the house. Only she was going to enter the house.
"Aloho-" she began, but stopped and tried the door. It was unlocked. Thinking about the stupidity of Muggles, she pushed it open and entered the house, as silent as a ghost.
A quick check proved that the bottom floor was empty, and she began climbing the stairs, taking each one with extreme slowness, lest a creak wake - or worse, warn - her target. Half-way up the stairs, she saw her reflection in one of the many pictured on the wall and paused. Hadn't she been Disillusioned? Frowning, she touched her head with her wand, concentrating on the charm. She felt the magic forming, leaving her wand, but nothing happened. Her frown deepened and she tried again, whispering the charm. This time she felt a brief sensation of coolness on her head, but it was gone in a second, leaving her just as visible as before.
Any attempts she would have made were prevented by the opening of a door on the landing above her. Before she could do anything, a head came into view, and her reflexes jumped into play.
"Stupefy," she chanted, at the same time as her target.
To her astonishment, no spell came from his wand and he dropped it the moment her spell hit him. But it had no effect. With a sinking feeling in her gut, Bellatrix looked at her target.
Eyes that had once been a brilliant emerald green were now dull, blank. There was no expression on his face, except a trace of deep sadness she had only seen on victims tortured beyond breaking.
The only difference between them and Harry James Potter was that the victims were dead, while the boy was very much alive and descending the stairs towards her.
Albus Dumbledore didn't pause to rouse Arabella Figg. It was almost three in the morning, after all. Stepping quickly, he walked to number four, Privet Drive. As he advanced towards the door, a Death Eater shot a curse towards him from his side. He noticed with curiosity that, altough the aim had been right, the curse curved in the air, hitting the wall of the house. It was easy to dispatch the gob smacked man after that.
With a speed that bellied his age, Dumbledore cast a few dozen spells, taking care to aim them at the ground for maximum efficiency. A few short minutes later, the remaining four Death Eaters were captured and secured by a variety of plants and animals he had transfigured and animated.
Satisfied that the exterior of the house was secure, he pushed open the door. There were sounds coming from the living room, so he walked there, wand at the ready. What he saw there made him gasp.
"Crucio, Imperio, Avada Kedavra, Stupefy, Crucio, Avada Kedavra! Why don't you die?!"
Bellatrix was crouched in a corner, shouting spells. Her voice was hoarse and she sounded desperate and terrified. Advancing towards her with small steps was Harry. His eyes were lacking the spark of determination that Dumbledore had come to associate with him. There were dark shadows under his eyes, and his hair was matted and tangled. He looked like he hadn't washed at all in the month he had spent in the Dursley residence. His lips were moving, but his voice was so weak that Dumbledore had to strain to hear what he was saying.
"You killed Sirius. Bring him back? He is dead. You killed him. Why did he have to die? Can you bring him back? I want him back. Sirius..."
Dumbledore's heart broke when he heard what Harry was saying. Despite his pleading words, his tone was almost flat, save for a trace of the despair Dumbledore knew that the boy had felt.
"I'm afraid Sirius cannot be brought back, Harry," he said, shooting a stunner towards Bellatrix, who hadn't noticed his presence until then. However, instead of striking her, the beam of the spell curved and hit Harry. He didn't show any sign of being affected by the spell. Instead, he turned his eyes to Dumbledore.
"You're the greatest wizard alive. Will you bring Sirius back? I miss him. I want to go flying with him. He liked flying. But he's dead. Can you bring him back? He fell through the veil. He didn't come back. Can you bring him back? You're the greatest wizard."
There was a hint of hope in Harry's eyes, and Dumbledore was loath to answer. Instead, he turned to Bellatrix, just in time to see her clutch at something in her robes and vanish.
With a sad sigh, he turned to Harry. He was still voicing his pleas, although the hope was gone from his eyes. He put an arm over the boy's shoulder, the gesture foreign to him, and frowned in concentration, picturing a house he had only seen once. Gripping Harry's shoulder tighter, he Apparated to the Granger residence.
Hermione rolled over and sighed. Reading that book hadn't been a good choice. She punched the pillow into a more fluffy state and buried her head in it. Five minutes later, she was in the kitchen, warming a glass of milk. The book she'd been reading rested on the kitchen table, and she was tempted to pick it up, but she knew that she would never be able to go back to sleep if she did that.
With a glass of warm milk in her hand, she threw one last glance at the book and took a step towards the stairs leading to her bedroom. The moment her foot touched down, all hell broke loose.
With a loud pop, Dumbledore and Harry appeared behind her. A ringing alarm punctuated their arrival, and a shower of red sparks erupted from the walls of the room, moving towards Harry. They melted before reaching him, vanishing. Once the last spark was gone, the alarm stopped.
Two sets of running feet entered the kitchen and stopped short at the sight of Dumbledore.
For a few moments, a complete silence dominated the room. A crash broke the silence as Hermione let her glass fall to the ground and rushed to hug Harry; once she let him go, she blushed at his state of undress and began speaking quickly.
"Professor, good morning! Please, have a seat. Is something wrong? What happened? Why is Harry here? Not that I mind, but I thought he was mad at me. I sent him a lot of letters, but he never replied, so I thought..." she trailed off and pushed Harry into a seat. In the cornet of her eye she saw her mother wiping the mess off the floor. Her father had already set a glass of fine brandy in Dumbledore's hand.
"Harry? Harry!" she exclaimed, for the first time that night looking at him properly. He was barely recognizable. The last time she had seen him - a mere month had passed since then - he had been healthy. Grieving, but healthy. He'd been quiet, but it was to be expected. She had known that he wasn't dealing with his grief properly, but nothing could have prepared her for what she was seeing.
She stared at him for a few minutes, trying to adjust to the idea that she was looking at Harry, her best friend. His lips were moving, and it took a while to catch what he was saying. She listened to him with horror and glanced at Dumbledore, hoping against hope that he would tell her it was all a sick joke, that it wasn't Harry there. But the old man just sighed and moved his tearful eyes to Harry. Hermione screamed.
"Molly, always a pleasure," Dumbledore said accepting his offered seat at the table, but waving away the offer of tea. "I'm afraid I do not have much time for tea. I am on an errand. A most urgent errand. Is Ronald here?" he asked.
Biting back many questions, Molly called for Ron. While he was making a rather loud descent from his room, she poured herself a cup of tea. Seconds later, Ron, followed by Ginny, entered the room at top speed, stopping short at the sight of Dumbledore sitting at their table.
"Good evening, Professor," they chorused, taking seats at the table.
"Ginny, Dumbledore needs to talk to Ron," Molly began, intending on letting the two have a quiet talk, but Dumbledore stopped her.
"No need, Molly. What I have to say concerns you all."
Once he had their full attention, he began talking. "Two days ago, at three AM, one of the devices monitoring number four Privet Drive notified me that there were Dark Marks inside the house. I moved there as soon as possible. There was five Death Eaters outside the house, and I bound them. Inside, I encountered Bellatrix. She was attempting to curse Harry, but her curses seemed to have no effect. She managed to escape, and I took Harry to the Granger residence. The Grangers have agreed to keep Harry for a while, until we manage to find out what is wrong with him. I came to tell you, because I would like Ron to go live there as well, at least for a few days. I am hopeful that it will help."
"But Professor, why didn't you bring Harry here? What is wrong with him?" Ron stopped firing questions at the Headmaster's raised hand.
"Please keep what I am going to tell you to yourselves. It would do us great harm if followers of Voldemort were to find out about Harry's situation." He paused and sighed. "When a witch or wizard suffers powerful emotions over a longer period of time, they run the risk of making permanent changes to their magic. In the case of negative emotions such as sorrow, they risk losing their magic entirely. Such is the situation of an Animagus from Africa who no longer has the ability to transform, after his wife died in quite violent circumstances. A witch in London cannot cast any spell that needs to be spoken after she saw her home go up in flames, killing her entire family."
"Are you saying that Harry can't speak?"
"No. Believe me, I wish it were so. I'm afraid that what has happened to Harry is much, much worse."
His three listeners froze. What could be worse?
"I'm afraid that Harry cannot perform magic anymore."
Molly seemed close to fainting, Ginny gave a small shriek and Ron gasped.
"What do you man, he can't do magic anymore?" Ron demanded after a few moments of stunned silence.
"I mean that no matter what he says and what wand movements he makes, nothing happens," responded Dumbledore, a bit sharply. "Moreover, no magic can affect him, and nothing magical can function in his proximity."
He ran his hand over his eyes, and they could see how tired he was. "I have tried everything, and nothing works. Spells don't have any effect on him, Floo doesn't work if he is in the home, wards collapse the moments I erect them.
"Harry has let his grief for Sirius' death overcome him, and I do not know what else to try. I hope that the presence of his friends will help somewhat."
He stood and nodded at Molly. "May Ron com join Harry?" he asked formally.
Molly nodded, standing. "I will go as well. The poor boy must have a mother near him."
Surprising everyone, Ginny spoke. "Mum, you can't go! Harry hated the way you talked to Sirius, and I don't think he will appreciate your presence."
Dumbledore nodded, forestalling Molly's protests. "You could be right, Miss Weasley. Severus was there yesterday, and Harry's reaction was extremely negative. It would be best if you were to remain here, Molly."
Dumbledore was watching Ginny with a thoughtful expression as Ron came downstairs with a pack. He took the basket of food from his tearful mother and looked questioningly at Dumbledore.
"Perhaps Ginevra should come too," Dumbledore said. "Would that be possible, Molly?" he asked. "If, of course, Ginevra is wiling to come." At Ginny's blushing nod, he turned back to Molly, who was biting her lip in indecision.
"Mum, can I go? I know Harry pretty well and I might be able to help. I want to help him, Mum!" Ginny said when it was apparent that no answer was forthcoming from her mother.
"You may go, Ginny," she said at last, and Ginny dashed upstairs to pack.
Ten minutes later they were ready to go. Dumbledore held out a quill. "This Portkey will take you to the Granger residence. They are waiting for you. I shall meet you there in the morning."
Ron and Ginny arrived in the middle of a battlefield. The outer wall of the Granger's kitchen had been blown away and the contents were mostly destroyed. Only splinters remained of the table, and their many electric appliances were obviously not going to function again. There was nobody actually in the kitchen, but random spells had hit it, and the broken light bulbs in the ceiling shot sparks every few seconds.
With reflexes faster than Ginny, Ron pushed the girl behind a broken cupboard and drew his wand. A second later, Ginny was beside him, her wand draw as well. Any protest that Ron might have had was stopped by the look on her face. He nodded to her and they stepped outside, through the broken wall.
Hermione was holding something that shot small pellets at any Death Eater that came near her, making large stains on their clothes. Next to her, her mother and father had pieces of a broken chair that seemed to give their attackers pause.
The attacking Death Eaters were spread out on the Granger's lawn, most of them shooting curses at something in the middle of the lawn. Ron and Ginny couldn't see what it was because of the light from so many spells. To the side, Remus Lupin and Nymphadora Tonks were facing a huge Death Eater. The battle between the three lacked magic. Remus, aided by his werewolf strength was grappling with the man, the two rolling on the ground while Tonks dove in from time to time, adding her dagger to the mix. All three were bleeding.
However, before Ron and Ginny could get near enough to be of any help, a tremendous CRACK sounded, halting all battle as everybody turned to see what had happened.
In the middle of the street stood Voldemort. His thin, almost lipless mouth was stretched in a triumphant sneer as he surveyed the combatants; his red, glowing eyes stopped on the figure in the middle of the lawn. Ginny's gasp went unheard as Harry said:
"You said you could bring my parents back. Can you bring Sirius back? She killed him. She works for you? You're evil. It's your fault, not my fault. Sirius is dead and it's your fault. You're evil. Sirius wasn't evil. Sirius is gone. She killed him. Can you bring him back?"
Ron watched in horror as the Death Eaters assembled in a circle around Harry and Voldemort.
"I can bring him back, Harry," Voldemort said, taking a few steps towards Harry, who gave no sign of having heard him. He was talking about Sirius.
Voldemort was a yard from Harry and Ron was about to yell a warning when something happened.
The red eyes of the Dark Lord widened in surprise and he tried to back away, but it as too late. Small bit and piece of Riddle's magical body began falling, vanishing. First bits of skin, followed by a finger, and after that in larger parts, Voldemort disintegrated, in front of the horrified eyes of his followers and enemies. For a few moments, a dark wraith could be seen, where the body had been, but it, too, was unable to escape and was destroyed.
The moment it vanished, all Death Eaters fell to their knees in pain, holding their forearms. But Ron and Hermione didn't see that. All they saw was a spurt of blood coming from Harry's forehead. Without making any sound, he fell to the ground, face-first.
Dumbledore eased the slim, long package through the door and propped it against the bed. With slow movements he closed the door behind him and moved to the chair next to the bed.
"Sirius is dead, Sirius is dead, Sirius is dead, why are you dead? I need you, Sirius, come back to me! Sirius!"
With a gasp, the only other occupant of the room awoke. Dulled green eyes looked at the figure of the Headmaster.
"Sirius is gone. I need Sirius. Why is he gone? The bad man can't hurt him anymore. I need Sirius.
"I know you need him, Harry. I wish I could bring him back to you. But it cannot be done. Meanwhile, I have brought you something."
When it was clear that Harry wasn't going to ask about anything except Sirius, tumbledown lifter the long package and placed it across Harry's lap.
"I'm sure you will be delighted by the contents of the package," Dumbledore said.
Harry didn't react. He was still murmuring about needing Sirius, and Dumbledore sighed.
The "Final Battle", as people were calling it, had taken place two days before. He and the rest of the Order had arrived mere seconds after Harry's collapse. The Death Eaters had been captured and were in the Hogwarts dungeons, much to Filch's delight.
The Granger residence had been fully repaired and Harry was back in the guest room had had occupied since arriving there. He had slept through the first night, when everybody had been celebrating, but the nightmares had returned after that.
Shaking himself out of his reminiscing, Dumbledore undid the string holding the wrapping closed on the package. As the golden letters came into view, Harry finally reacted. With rushed, clumsy and weak gestures he unwrapped the broom.
"Sirius gave me this, he paid for it from his vault. Did you know that? Hermione said he was bad, but he wasn't. The bad man killed him. Sirius is dead." He paused in his muttering and pulled the broom to his chest. "But Sirius gave me this. He gave me this. It was my present from him. He sent it to me."
With a frown - the first real expression Harry had shown in weeks - he set the broom back on the bed and raised his hand over it.
To Dumbledore's astonishment, the broom rose shakily. A moment later, he smiled at Harry and patted his shoulder. A few surreptitious spells proved that Harry was still unaffected by magic, but he didn't seem to suck the magic out of his surroundings anymore. After a few more minutes, he exited the room to give Harry's friends the good news.
A/N: Originally, I planned this to be a summer fic, with Harry's friends helping him deal with his issues, bringing him out of his funk and helping him use his new found ability of absorbing magic to destroy Voldemort (who dies before the new school year). But I don't have the energy to start a new project. I already have two WIPs, one of them with 9 chapters up, the other with the first chapter at my Beta. If anybody is willing to help me with turning this story into a longer fic, I'll gladly take the help. Having to do only half the work sounds good. :)