Fall Into Grace

    One late April day, with the sun beating down mockingly bright from above, the Dark Lord Voldemort took his final breath. He lay in the field, surrounded by the bodies of those who had fought and died from both sides of the battle. Loyal Death Eaters fell beside their master as the ragtag army, a combination of Aurors and upper year Hogwarts students, began to take control of the battle. But Voldemort was dead. And standing over his body was a young boy, no more then fifteen, the youngest of the gathered Hogwarts students by far. Yet he had been the one to deal the final blow. And now he stood, a murderer at fifteen.

    Those closest to the boy, those that had provided cover so he could finally finish the battle the Dark Lord had begun years ago, watched him with a concerned gaze. Mostly teachers, they understood how hard the ramifications of what he had just done would be hitting the boy, for they too had brandished the killing curse on that warm spring day. They could not, however, predict the emotions and thoughts coursing through him at that moment as his mortal enemy took his final breath.

    Harry Potter, the Boy-Who-Lived and had now survived. Age fifteen and nine months, standing a little over five foot six, petite by all means, and now the defeater of the Dark Lord who had stolen his parents from him when he was just a babe. Honestly, he didn’t know whether to laugh or cry. He’d been under Voldemort’s threat for so long, it was almost unnerving to realize that he was in essence free for the first time in his life. But at what cost had his freedom come?

    The field, the stage of the final battle, was littered with casualties, too many to number. Children that only months ago Harry had attended school with lie still in the bloodstained grass, skin pale and waxy in a manner ones so young should never be. Beyond the field, hundreds of wizards and witches, entire families, were missing or deceased at the hands of Voldemort’s loyal followers. Harry’s own family, the non-magic relatives he’d been entrusted to as a child, had been slaughtered in an attempt to locate Harry himself. His godfathers, Sirius Black and Remus Lupin, were missing and assumed dead.

    Every death weighed heavily on the boy’s soul as he gazed upon Voldemort’s corpse. And it was too much, far too much for such a fragile boy who had never known anything but pain and hurt. With a whimper of defeat, he fell to his knees, wand slipping carelessly from his suddenly numb fingers. Severus Snape, Potions Master and former spy, had been watching Harry keenly as the boy struggled with himself. As Harry fell back suddenly, eyes fluttering, he dashed forward and managed to catch the boy as Harry finally succumbed to darkness.

    Those most gravely injured were treated first by the team of mediwitches and wizards that arrived when the Auror’s had deemed the field safe enough, so Harry, who though fairly scraped and bruised had not suffered anything life threatening, was placed on a conjured stretcher and given a blanket. Having quite a few mediwizard skills himself, Severus was quickly separated from the boy as he was pulled to where help was most needed. As it was, Harry lay alone, off to the side and unseen by most. And so none saw when the boy woke and weakly rose, throwing off the woolen blanket.

    On unsteady legs, he began to walk, unsure of his destination, but with a pressing need to leave all the same. Shock, forced back while he battled, began to settle in fully now, clouding his mind and making his entire body tremble. Without thought, he entered the dark forest running the length of the field, a continuation of Hogwarts very own Forbidden Forest.

    Heavy foliage above kept very little light from entering and Harry stumbled over the many tree roots and rocks hidden in the night-like darkness, already shaky on his feet. For a moment, he thought of returning to the field, to the movement and tension following the battle. Just the thought of the pure, unfettered emotions sure to be saturating the scene exhausted Harry. Using the trees to steady him, he moved deeper into the forest, until all light disappeared beneath the heavy leaves.

    He stumbled into a small clearing, barely managing to remain upright as he stepped over a single fallen tree. With a soft sigh, he abruptly sat in the cold dirt, falling back to rest against the log. Exhaustion made his limbs heavy and weak, made him sluggish. Even his thoughts, desperately trying to warn him to leave the dark place he’d managed to find, were slow and unclear. It was as if his body was too tired to go on and was progressively shutting down, bit by bit.

    ‘If I fall asleep out here, no one will ever find me,’ he thought suddenly, a hint of hysteria creeping into his mind. The idea of death didn’t scare him so much as the idea of an eternity alone in the darkness which blanketed him now.

    As if his very thoughts had conjured it, a light appeared a short distance away, dimly lighting the small area surrounding it. The light was coming from a wand, Harry realized. Which meant someone was carrying it. And suddenly, the idea of an eternity by himself didn’t seem as bad, especially if it meant never facing another human, whether it be a wizard or Muggle, again.

    Lucius Malfoy stumbled none too gracefully past a mess of tree roots, nearly falling into the small clearing. Harry, who had frozen upon realizing just who had entered the area, was silent, his gaze never leaving the blonde. If Lucius was surprised to see Harry, he didn’t show it, giving the boy a curt nod of acknowledgement.

    “Mr. Malfoy,” Harry began, infinitely annoyed by the slur in his tone he seemed unable to control, “I see you survived the battle unscathed.”

    Lucius raised a single eyebrow in surprise at the boy’s attempt at conversation, noting the boy’s glazed eyes. “I wasn’t directly involved in this particular battle, Mr. Potter. I was otherwise occupied,” Lucius smirked.

    “Voldemort’s dead,” Harry remarked after a moment.

    “I assumed as much seeing as how you are sitting before me, in fairly good health and obviously alive. He wouldn’t have rested till you were dead. Also, the mark seems to have faded.” At that, Lucius gently rolled up his left sleeve, examining the tender skin surrounding the area where once had been the brand of his master.

    “My scar has as well,” Harry pointed out.

    “Hmm. So it has. It does appear you are the victor, after all, Potter. The Boy-Who-Lived, indeed. May I ask just why you are in the forest, then? Surely there are adoring fans awaiting your triumphant return to Hogwarts.”

    “I felt restless,” Harry shrugged.

    “Restless?” Lucius echoed. “I’m surprise they let you slip away. Angry Death Eaters are just waiting for a chance like this to get revenge.”

    “Are you an angry Death Eater, Mr. Malfoy?” Harry asked softly. “Are you going to kill me? Are you going to avenge your masters death at my hands by murdering me in the middle of the forest? No one would find me for months in here…”

    As Harry’s eyes unfocused, seeming to stare straight out into the darkness, Lucius took a moment to examine the small wizard. Unlike previous encounters between the two, Harry seemed calm, almost frighteningly so. When Lucius had first seen the boy collapsed against the tree, he’d prepared himself for a barrage of accusations and curses. After all, he was a Death Eater and to a child of fifteen, the lines between good and evil were painfully clear cut and unyielding.

    But the boy had surprised him. Taking in the lethargic attitude and glassy stare, he thought perhaps the boy had been injured. But then how had he escaped the clutches of the numerous mediwitches and wizards sure to be swarming the battlefield by now? So instead he began to wonder over the boy’s mental state. Many a man had been driven mad by battle. Was it possible for one so young to survive intact?

    “What pride would I bring to my master by killing an unarmed child wandering in the dark?” Lucius smirked. “Besides, as you said, Voldemort is no longer. I don’t make it a habit of taking orders from the deceased.”

    “Not as loyal I thought then, Mr. Malfoy.”

    “My loyalty is to myself, Potter. Anyone else is inconsequential.”

    Harry frowned as he turned his gaze back to Lucius. “And your family? Are they inconsequential as well?” Before Lucius could even begin to answer, Harry snorted, “I do think your dear son is under the impression that the brightest star in your sky is him.”

    “Draco is spoiled. His mother’s fault, of course. I never encouraged it,” Lucius shrugged elegantly. “When he is finished schooling and on his own, he will realize just what being a Malfoy means.”

    “And what does it mean, Mr. Malfoy?” Harry shot Lucius a crooked smile, eyes unreadable. “The Malfoy name…”

    Lucius was becoming increasingly confused by the boy’s behavior and slightly worried. Perhaps the boy had indeed been injured, or at least taken a hit to rattle his mind. In no way was he acting as the foolishly brave and self-righteous Gryffindor he’d met three years prior.

    “Potter, are you alright?” Lucius asked, annoyed by the concern obvious in his voice.

    “Why didn’t I die?” Harry wondered softly, picking absentmindedly at a cut along his thigh which was still bleeding slightly, large ruby drops soaking into the surrounding cloth from his pants.

    “Pardon?” Lucius was unnerved by the listlessness in the boy’s tone. It was the last thing he’d expected to hear the boy ask. And in such a tone. It wasn’t a question borne from fear at such a near miss or even disappointment at his survival. Instead, it was a simple speculation.

    “They all thought I was going to, you know. Dumbledore and the teachers, all my friends, even my godfather…” Harry shook his head, a wry smile twisting his lips. “It seems I should have.”

    “Potter, if nothing else, you’ve never fit anyone’s expectations. Including Voldemort’s.”

    “I almost looked forward to it. Death. It’s better then what I’ve got going for me, right?” Harry laughed, the sound far too loud in the near silent forest. “I’d see my parents again. I’d never have to go back to the Dursley’s. No one would expect a thing from me ever again. It would have been great.”

    “I do hope you’re not under the impression that I, in some way, care about your depressive little whining,” Lucius sneered.

    “If you did, I wouldn’t be talking to you,” Harry replied.

    Lucius couldn’t quite argue with that logic. So instead, he gave an elegant shrug, leaning back against a nearby tree. Until his transportation arrived, he was trapped in the forest. At least speaking with Harry gave his mind something to focus on instead of the wild spiraling his thoughts had been doing all morning.

    “So you survived…most people would be immensely grateful in your position. After all, you are the Boy-Who-Lived. The fame alone would be enough for most. Add to that the money the Ministry will be sure to award you, the years of publicity and adoration…you’ve got a lot to be thankful for,” Lucius pointed out.

    “Call me selfish, but I want more. Or less, I suppose. I just want to be alone,” Harry sighed. “No adoring fans throwing themselves at my feet, no press recording every moment of my life, no one making my decisions for me. I jut want to be…no one.”

    “An admirable goal. But highly unlikely while you exist as Harry Potter.”

    “A hard destiny to escape. Do you see why my hopes turn to death?”

    “Surely there are other escapes while remaining on the mortal plane, are there not? Perhaps you should speak with your dear friends. Certainly the all-knowing Dumbledore could formulate some plan to hide poor Potter from his celebrity,” Lucius smirked.

    The boy chose not to respond, sighing again as he pulled his knees up to his chest, wrapping his arms around them. In the dim light of the wand, he looked terribly young and vulnerable, face pale and marked with cuts, small hands clinging to knobby knees. It was almost pathetic to a man who detested weakness in any form.

    “If you really want to escape,” Lucius begun, unsure exactly what prompted him to give Harry advice, “Why not fake your death now? The boy-wonder wanders deep into the forest, weak and confused, only to lose his life moments after defeating his greatest enemy.”

    “If only. But where would I hide? Even if I managed to get away, I am the most recognizable wizard in England,” Harry snorted.

    “A concealment charm or glamour, perhaps?”

    “Pointless. Even if I managed to escape, my friends,” Harry spat the word in irritation, “Would never stop searching for me. Even the one’s I love will never give me a moment’s rest. They’d never understand my need to disappear. I would be hunted down.”

    “So it’s hopeless,” Lucius shrugged.

    “Unless you’ve changed your mind about avenging your former masters death,” Harry said, smiling wryly up at the man. “I lay myself before you,” Harry laughed, spreading his arms wide.

    “Stop being so melodramatic, Potter. You act as if you are the first person in the world to wish for anonymity. Or to be forced into the spotlight, for that matter. Your case is by no means special. But every celebrity doesn’t off themselves first chance they get.”

    “I am not trying to off myself,” Harry protested.

    “Just looking for an assisted suicide.”

    “Are you offering then?”

    “Hardly, Potter. Murdering the Boy-Who-Lived wouldn’t exactly boost my attempts to prove myself a good wizard,” Lucius smirked.

    “Ahh, the good old Imperius Curse defense. It worked once, why not again?” Before Lucius could even begin to reply, Harry waved a dismissive hand. “I’ve no doubt that you fully intend to reaffirm yourself as a wizard on the side of Light, Mr. Malfoy. After all, they won.”

    “They? I would have thought you’d be included at the top of that group list, Potter. The defeater of the ultimate evil, our savior,” Lucius said, barely refraining from rolling his eyes at the title the boy had so unwillingly earned.

    “Yes, you’d think I would,” Harry agreed easily.

    “What the hell are you doing out here, Potter? Honestly?” Lucius asked bluntly, more than a bit confused by the boy‘s actions. It was as if the person before him was an entirely new Harry Potter, hardly retaining a single trait the famous Boy-Who-Lived had.

    “I’m not entirely sure, Mr. Malfoy,” Harry answered after a moment. “Perhaps I thought to find my salvation out here. Or not. I must admit, I feel a bit confused. I think perhaps the day’s events are catching up.”

    “And where will you go from here?”

    “I assume at some point, a search party will be sent out for me. They’ll find me here and I shall be once more swept away into the life of the Boy-Who-Lived,” Harry shrugged. “And this moment, this conversation will be a memory of one distinctive moment in my life when for once I spoke freely.”

     “You’d truly give up all the benefits of who you are to be a no one?” Lucius was incredulous as the very idea. Being who he was, he could respect a desire for privacy. But the very idea of slipping into oblivion made him cringe. And yet that seemed to be the only wish the boy had.

    “Mr. Malfoy, I would trade every single benefit for even a moment of nonexistence.”

    The sudden trampling of feet seemed to echo across their small clearing. Harry’s glazed eyes widened in abrupt fear. The change it made in the boy’s face was remarkable. For a moment, Lucius truly knew that he was looking upon a scared, little boy. And then Harry seemed to slump back, all emotion fleeing in a released sigh.

    “Harry,” Lucius began, startling the boy, “I offer you oblivion.”

    “Sir?”

    “I may not be a nice man, Harry. But I can spot an advantage miles away. I am in position to overtake the Ministry of Magic once our illustrious minister has fallen.” Lucius sneered at the mention of Cornelius Fudge. “One man stands in my way. Or, one man and a boy.”

    “Me,” Harry said softly.

    “Precisely. I have far more to gain without the Boy-Who-Lived-Yet-Again hanging in the wings. As long as you survive, you remain a figure head for the side of perfect. But without you, the wizarding world will search for the quickest return to normalcy. I can provide that,” Lucius smirked.

    “Are you going to kill me, Mr. Malfoy?” Harry asked, a hint of a smile playing along the corners of his mouth. He honestly looked as if he couldn’t decide whether to be amused or horrified.

    “Not exactly, Harry.” The cryptic answer roused the boy’s curiosity, and the light that had flashed in his emerald eyes earlier returned. Lucius felt a certain satisfaction in knowing he was the cause of the spark of life. “Do you trust me?”

    “No,” Harry smirked. “But I’ll do whatever you need me to.”

    “Good. Stupefy!” And Harry’s world went black.