Our Fathers

Chapter Fifteen - No Future

Harry hated being the subject of pitying gazes but, following Snape and Remus down the hall in the direction of Dumbledore's office, it was understandable why such looks were falling upon him from his classmates. He knew he looked terrible. His hands were shaking even worse - Remus had told him it was because he'd not had a dose of the potion - and he knew the bags under his eyes had grown worse since Christmas. He looked ill, and he was well aware of it.

Remus, Ron, Hermione, and Dumbledore seemed unable to accept what was happening to him. But Madame Pomfrey had told Professor McGonagall. He was dying. And Madame Pomfrey didn't lie.

Remus and Snape had started to form some sort of escort from Hospital Wing to Dumbledore's office. Harry had found himself following the two men three different times since his return to Hogwarts. The first had been worst - he'd had to explain to Dumbledore just what he'd done. Snape had been there too, scowling as Harry told of the stolen potion, and McGonagall had taken points from Gryffindor. Why didn't they understand? He was only trying to stay alive!

Taking the potion meant that he didn't have to watch Voldemort's victims die, even if he felt the pain. Taking the potion meant he could spend whatever time he had left smiling with his friends and playing Quidditch and being just Harry. Without the potion, he went from being Just Harry to Harry Potter, the Boy Who Lived, and a Seer. Just one more title to the list. He wanted none of them.

"Why does he want me this time?" Harry asked quietly. He noticed he'd fallen back a bit in the midst of his thoughts and hurried to catch up with Remus and Snape.

"It's not about the potion, this time," Remus replied. He dropped back to walk at Harry's side. "Hopefully it will be something you'll find much better... we're going to talk about your family some."

Harry sighed, half in relief and half in disappointment. "Oh... to find someone who wants me."

Remus frowned and ruffled Harry's bangs. "Hey, there - we'll find the best ones just for you, alright? Don't lose heart."

It was hard not to lose heart, when Harry was quite aware how little time he'd probably have with this new family. He didn't want them. He wanted Sirius and Remus, or the Weasleys - they loved him. Harry didn't want to find he was as unwanted as Malfoy. And speaking of Malfoy... Harry lowered his voice. "If it's not about the potion, why's Snape here?"

"Sugar Quill," Snape announced to the gargoyle guarding Dumbledore's office. He turned abruptly, narrowing his eyes at Harry. "You'd do well to address me as Professor, even when you think I'm not listening. 5 points from Gryffindor for disrespect. And Professor Dumbledore asked it of me. That should be enough for you," he snapped before turning back to go up the stairs.

Harry sighed mournfully and followed, ignoring Remus' conciliatory pat on the shoulder. He felt sick from not having a dose of Hyupnos Potion today, and he'd lost a grand total of 70 points in the past week. He'd have to work very, very hard to make it up in the next Quidditch match, the one against Slytherin.

Dumbledore was waiting behind his desk at the top of the stairs, though he wasn't alone in the room. Fawkes was a blaze of red and orange feathers, preening at the start of his cycle of life. The portraits of the Headmasters and Headmistresses past were snoring as usual, and a random-looking assortment of quills, paperweights, bits, and bobs were scattered about on the desk and the shelves behind the old man. And there, sitting across a chessboard from the Headmaster, was the most unlikely of friendly opponents - Draco Malfoy.

He glanced up from the board in surprise. He looked better than the Christmas visit to the Weasleys, Harry noticed, but he certainly hadn't returned to the pristinely groomed aristocrat of years past. While his gazed flickered to Remus and Harry for a moment, it came to rest on Snape. "Professor Snape - I was just - you weren't in your office so I just came up here -" Malfoy fell silent under a disapproving stare from his guardian.

"Pardon me, Draco. I forgot we were to have tea this afternoon," Snape said simply. "I had other issues to consider."

Malfoy seemed to deflate under Snape's words, though Snape didn't seem to notice the change. The blonde boy's shoulders slumped and his gaze dropped to his hands. "If you'll excuse me, Headmaster, I don't wish to interrupt."

Dumbledore nodded and pushed his glasses up on his nose to peer closely at the chessboard. "I'd quite forgotten about this meeting myself, Draco. Perhaps we can finish this after supper? You seem to have me in check."

"That I do," Malfoy grinned. "I believe it's mate in six moves." He rose, slipping around the chair. "Until after dinner then, Headmaster... Professor," he acknowledged, passing Snape. He paused for a moment, as if awaiting some sort of response from the dour Head of Slytherin House, but none came.

Malfoy waited a moment too long, it seemed, as Snape swerved around him. "Go on, Draco, we've business," he snapped. Draco's face fell, Harry noticed, but he started moving quickly. He shoved Harry aside without a glance and disappeared down the stairs. Harry wondered what he'd been waiting for.

In the meantime, Remus and Snape both took seats across from Dumbledore, while Harry waited for the Headmaster to tell him what the summons was all about. "Sit, sit," he commanded. With a sigh, Harry slumped into the last seat. "Oh, don't look so down." Blue eyes twinkled in a manner which once seemed reassuring and now seemed only... contrived. "Now, how are you feeling today?"

"Sick," Harry snapped. He looked away from the cheerful blue eyes and stared instead at the preening phoenix. "Had to have Seamus recopy my essay for Transfiguration. Even I couldn't read the bloody thing." He tugged at his robes, trying to stay the tremours.

Snape scowled. "Watch your language, Potter."

Dumbledore only gave a lighthearted laugh. "I've heard much worse, Severus, often from you. Now, Harry... you'll feel better soon enough. Just learn from this mistake."

Oh, he'd learn. It would be too late by then, anyways. "What do you need me for today?" He had another essay to get done, and he'd need Seamus or Ron or Hermione to write for him.

"The end of term comes soon. It's time to search for someone who can take you in." Dumbledore tapped a rather large tome sitting on the edge of his desk. "This is a listing of the Potter family for generations past... there should be a link to at least one viable family within, wouldn't you agree?" Harry didn't answer as Dumbledore flipped open the book and set his palm on the first page. "Now, let's put this where we can all see it... Revelo libra."

An image of twisting branches sprang into the air, reaching upward from the book in a fuzzy gold. Off of the branches, as leaves, names faded into being. Many were in green, though Harry spotted a few in red and a few in blue dotting the golden branches. Then in black came dates of birth and death. Harry's eyes raked over the names floating high on the tree, even as branches kept springing up and stretching out. A long line of Potters formed the trunk... Acestes, Julius, Iarbus, Hermes, odd names he could place at the edge of his mind but didn't recognize.

Dumbledore was concentrating on the names near the point at which the book and the golden branches intersected. "Well, there you are, Harry..." A tiny red name, nearly touching the page. Harry Potter, 1980 - ? "Hmm, I do hope you intend to marry someday, Harry. The Potters don't seem to have produced as many children as I'd remembered. You'll want to continue on the line..."

Harry wrinkled his nose and noticed Snape rolling his eyes. Marriage? Not likely. Who knew how many years were left? If it wasn't the illness, it would be Voldemort or the Death Eaters. With a mental shrug, he leaned forward to look more closely at the little names near his. There was James (1960-1981) and another name next to it, Henry Jr. (1954-1977), both in red. "Dad had a brother?" Harry asked in surprise. A much older brother - six whole years difference. Why hadn't anyone mentioned him before? Wait, but Remus had - at the Burrow.

Remus seemed uncomfortable. "Yes. Henry was a Gryffindor, too. He... died in the war." No one elaborated. Harry frowned for a moment, questions about his dead uncle flickering through his mind - but they didn't matter. The man was dead, and without children.

"And this one here, in the green, Julius?" Harry asked. "He was my uncle, too? Oh, look! He married a Weasley! Erm... Morgainne? Must be one of Mr. Weasley's sisters or something... does that mean I'm sort of related to them?"

More uncomfortable gazes. "Sort of," Remus said.

Dumbledore pointed further up on the chart to more red names. "You certainly are related by blood, though not closely. Here we are, Demetrius Potter and Guinevere Weasley were married in 1698. Her brother is direct ancestor to your friend Ron, I believe."

Despite the discomfort of the teachers and Remus, Harry was enthralled by the spiraling gold branches. "Who else am I related to? Many people that I know?"

Snape leaned forward and pointed to two separate branches. "A Snape married in here, and here. Megara Snape married David McKinnon in 1886, and their daughter, Victoria, married Ulysses Potter right here, in 1910. Their only child was your grandfather, Henry." Ulysses name was green, but Henry's was red. The others were green too, except for David McKinnon's, which was the only yellow name Harry could locate on the chart.

In childlike fascination, Harry pulled his feet onto the chair and leaned forward. "Wow... McKinnon? That name is familiar... Professor Dumbledore, did you know my grandfather? And... Ulysses? What an odd name."

Rather suddenly, the kind smile faded from the Headmaster's face to be replaced by a strained frown and oddly pale face, behind his long white beard and glasses. "Yes, I knew Ulysses. And Henry, as well. Henry was born in 1913, and Ulysses died in 1919, rather... unexpectedly. His mother had been... badly affected by Cruciatus in '17, and couldn't raise Henry... so I did."

All Harry could do was gape. "Why did you do that?"

"My children were grown, and Ulysses' mother was my aunt. There was enough blood there to make the transfer easy. Henry... I was very proud of Henry. He was an Unspeakable for years. When he died at the hands of a Death Eater the year before your father graduated Hogwarts, and mere months after your uncle's death, I took in your father. And then he died, too." Dumbledore didn't meet Harry's eyes. Harry couldn't remember a time he'd seen the Headmaster look so... old.

Harry pushed it aside and kept asking questions - after all, it could be the only chance to talk about his father's family that he was every given. "How did Ulysses die, then? Was it a Dark Wizard?"

"No. It was a Light Wizard." Dumbledore said shortly. Before Harry could do so much as gape, the old man pointed at another section of the family tree. "As Severus was saying, the Snapes have crossed the Potters twice since the 1600's. The blood is thin, but provides a possibility. None of the McKinnons survived the war, so any possibilities from that section are gone. Your half-uncle's mother's family is completely out of the question..."

"Why's that?" Harry shot in quickly, before Dumbledore could go on. He peered at the golden branches connecting to Henry Potter (1913-1977). "Hesperia Nott. She has relatives living."

Snape gave a snort. "If you'd like to throw yourself at the Dark Lord's feet, I would suggest walking right into the forest now, rather than going looking for Nott."

Harry pursed his lips in confusion. "What? I wasn't particularly planning -"

"He's a Death Eater, Potter," the Potions Master growled. "Headmaster, wouldn't it be best to move to the other side of the tree? All you'll find on Henry Potter's side are Snapes, Malfoys, and a Lestrange or two."

Dumbledore gave a sigh. "Yes, of course. Snapes, Malfoys, Lestranges, and an out-of-place aunt of mine. Oh, and a Black, right there! Mmm... this is your grandmother, Henry's second wife." He poked at a red name and the entire twist of branches moved a bit, accenting her name and those on her side of the tree - these were mostly red and blue.

"Mercy Ross," Harry read off. He scanned along the line, looking for relatives. "Oh... this one died just this year... Henry Ross."

Snape's eyes flickered along the length of the Ross line before giving a smirk. "Ahh, we may have a winner, Albus..." He pointed, with a smirk, at a red name a bit farther out than Harry had managed to read yet.

He squinted and read it. Then, he shook his head and read it again. "No... Headmaster, I don't think -"

Dumbledore looked positively ecstatic as he read the name. "Perfect!" he crowed. "I always told her that she could use to have a child of her own to care for, rather than just being a professor... I do believe you'll both learn a fair bit about life, Harry!"

Harry kept gaping. Minerva McGonagall (1923 - ?). Oh, would Ron have kittens. "Professor Dumbledore, you can't actually believe this to be the best-"

"Well, should anything change in Remus' situation, you would go to live with him, of course. However, your great-grandmother's niece is Minerva... the blood is there, and thicker than I'd imagined... Oh, how wonderful! Minerva usually stays here over the summers - you'll be able to get to know Severus and Draco much better, my boy!"

It was all Harry could do to keep himself from smacking his forehead against the table in despair.

He was allowed to go back to Gryffindor Tower after the meeting. Ron and Hermione were in the Common Room as he entered on Katie Bell's heels, as he hadn't been told the new password. Hermione was talking rapidly and Ron, shockingly enough, had his nose in an old book. They both jumped to their feet as they noticed him. "Harry!" Hermione exclaimed. "Oh, Harry, we've been so worried!"

Ron shoved the book under a stack of papers and grinned brightly. "Hey, mate! Seamus said he helped with the Transfiguration essay... could you tell me what he said? I'm having a bloody horrid time with it, and Hermione here refuses to help me."

"I don't refuse to help," Hermione replied shortly, giving a sniff. "I just refuse to let you copy mine! You should know that much by now!"

Harry rounded the sofa and sunk into the plush red pillows next to Hermione. "We can do it later. I'll be needing help on Herbology later, though." He glanced down at his shaking hands and blushed. This wasn't a time to be embarrassed about something he couldn't control - these were his friends. Hermione and Ron would never make fun of him for it.

"Are you feeling better today, Harry?" Hermione asked. She'd restrained herself from commenting on warnings, up until this point, but Harry could sense an 'I told you so' just waiting on her tongue.

Well, he couldn't lie, even if it would give her more fodder. "No, not really. Madame Pomfrey said the symptoms won't be their worst until tomorrow or the next day, though. Right now, my head just hurts. And I feel sick, though that might have something to do with Dumbledore's news," he sighed.

Before Hermione could begin harping on his health, Ron butted in. "So, what'd Dumbledore want today? More about the potion? Maybe he found a way to block the visions?" Ron, oddly enough, shot a glare at Hermione with the last part.

Harry didn't really want to know why. "No, wasn't about the potion. We looked at my family tree to try to find someone for me to stay with over the summer."

That caught the attention of both Hermione and Ron, though Ron looked almost... worried. "Oooh, what did you learn?" Hermione asked. Genealogy did seem to be something she'd enjoy, Harry mused. "Are you related to many people? I've heard bloodlines are fairly muddled among purebloods, because of how few wizards there are. Is that true?" She seemed excited enough to bounce in her seat. It was almost unnerving.

"Oh, plenty of odd relations!" Unnerving, maybe, but Harry found himself to be almost as excited. "Dumbledore raised my granddad. And I had an uncle and a half-uncle, but they were both killed in the war. Let's see... there's a Weasley a long, long ways back! And the McKinnons, too."

"The ones who were slaughtered by You-Know-Who in 1980?" Hermione asked in an astonished whisper. "Was he trying to wipe out your entire family?"

Harry shrugged. "I don't know. Professor Dumbledore hasn't ever told me exactly why Voldemort attacked my family. Uncle Re hasn't said anything, either. There were some other very odd ones, too... There are at least two Snapes, and Professor Snape said there were Malfoys and Lestranges, too. And my half-uncle's mum was a Nott. I guess everyone's family tree has a few Death Eaters in it."

"Some more than others," Ron replied, giving a slight wince.

It seemed almost as if he was hiding something from Harry. "What do you mean?"

Ron turned very pale, which made his freckles stand out in contrast across the bridge of his nose. "Um... well, Harry, there are some wizarding lines that are traditionally a bit more... Dark than others. That doesn't mean everyone's evil," he rushed on to say, "but... you know, like the Malfoys. They're Dark for generations back. Draco's got to be the first Light Malfoy in centuries, and he's only Light because he'd be dragon-fodder otherwise!"

Harry frowned. "Right... what does that have to do with anything, though?"

"Never mind," Ron muttered. "Listen, Harry, why don't we go up and work on that Herbology project? Hermione was doing some research things, weren't you, Hermi?"

She wrinkled her nose. "Please, don't call me that, it's terrible... but yes, I was researching. We can work on Transfiguration after supper if you want, Ron."

Ron nodded and grabbed hold of Harry's sleeve. "Right," he replied, dragging Harry in the direction of the stairs. "She's being a bloody nuisance," he hissed as they went, "making me do her work... she made me crossreference all of these pages in three different sodding books! And it was all poetry and if Rowena Ravenclaw actually swooned at Slytherin's feet and begged him to ravish her, I'll toss myself off the Astronomy Tower!"

Harry chuckled. It was good to know that Hermione was still working on the stolen poetry book, even if it seemed as though she'd hit several dead ends. "Right, Ron... a nuissance... I wasn't finished telling you about what Dumbledore showed me, though."

He looked pale and uncomfortable again. "Well, it doesn't mean anything about you, who your relatives were, you know. You're still Harry, and you're still my friend."

"What are you going on about?" he demanded. "It's nothing bad, I suppose, just weird."

"Oh." Ron frowned and peered over at Harry, even while dragging him up to the dormitory. "I was, er... you know, being related to Snape's kind of... well, what are you going on about?" he countered.

Harry narrowed his eyes, but when Ron didn't elaborate, he gave a sigh. "Fine, if you don't want to tell me... well, my grandfather has loads of odd people related to him, but my grandmother has the only one who I could really stay with. And you'll never guess who it is..."

Ron wrinkled his nose. "Snape. No, that's too horrible... um, Madame Pomfrey? Then you'd have to put up with her babying you and tucking you up in bed if you so much as look a little off colour -"

"No, not that bad!" Harry laughed. "Although... come exam time, it could be... It's McGonagall. She's my great-grandmum's niece."

The red-head looked ready to choke. "Oh my God... you have to live with bloody McGonagall!? Lord, Harry, I'm so sorry!"

Harry gave a snort of laughter and pushed his way into the dormitories. "Oh, c'mon, Ron. It can't be that bad... at least I'm not related to Trelawney!"

The tremours grew worse as night came on. Harry curled up on his side with the hangings of his bed drawn shut as the other boys slept on, oblivious to their roommate's problems. His entire body shook, though not so violently as during one of the Cruciatus seizures that had accompanied most of the earlier visions. They'd stopped, at some point, though Harry wasn't sure why - was Voldemort no longer using Cruciatus, or had something changed?

Harry rubbed his hands over his face, wishing desperately for sleep to come. At least in the Hospital Wing, Madame Pomfrey would offer him the Dreamless Sleep potion - though it wouldn't block visions, it would get him over his insomnia. He wondered if sleeplessness was yet another of the side effects of withdrawal from Hyupnos.

A scene flashed across his mind. Three in a room with Voldemort, one on his knees, two cowering away. Harry cringed, longing for even half a dose of the potion to block the worst of the Vision. He wished it away... but wishing never helped.

The kneeling one, familiar somehow, gave a low sob. "Please, sir, don't do this... we've never worked against you..."

"I offer you glory and you turn it down! Zabini, do you realize what you turn away from? You could be powerful... or you could be dead. A wealth of tomorrows or no future... it's your choice, Ian. Serve me, or I rid England of your fence-sitting family." Voldemort sneered, sliding his wand from a pocket in his robes. "The choice is now..."

Ian Zabini - he looked to be Charlie Weasley's age - glanced back at the two behind him. One man, one woman; likely his parents. Was this Blaise Zabini's family? The elder man shook his head decisively and the woman closed her eyes, reaching over to take the elder man's hand. Ian turned back to Voldemort. "Hmm, famous last words?" he murmured. "How about 'bugger off'?" Ian snapped.

Voldemort's lip curled. "A pity to waste your cunning, but any enemy of mine is a friend of Dumbledore's. Avada Kedavra." And in a green flash, Ian dropped limply to the ground. Voldemort stepped over the body without any sort of response. "And the two of you will be joining your son? Ahh, Priam, Helena... so sorry it had to come to this... I'll make sure to give your daughter your regards when she's brought to me as well..." Two more flashes, and the Zabinis were crumpled on the floor.

He didn't even bother to torture anymore, Harry mused briefly before the churning of his stomach forced a beeline for the bathroom off the dormitory. He had another Vision to report, then... and not a wink of sleep to provide recovery. Just a bit of the potion would tide him over for the night...

Harry retched again, the faces of Blaise Zabini's family etched into his mind. There was only one thing left to do... he needed his sleep, and with the symptoms on top of the visions, he'd never get it...

As soon as his stomach calmed a little, he crept back into the dormitory and inched open the top of his trunk to keep it from creaking. There, at the bottom of his trunk, under the Quidditch magazines and robes and the graded assignments were two vials of the Hyupnos Draught, hidden away for such a need. There was easily enough for seven full doses, maybe even eight... if he just took half a dose, it wouldn't block the visions out completely, but would soothe the symptoms of withdrawal and allow a bit of sleep...

After fighting down a flash of guilt - he'd promised Remus he wouldn't take any more - Harry took just a mouthful from one of the vials, corked it again, and buried it back under the papers and Quidditch paraphernalia. It took only a moment for his stomach to calm more and the headache to retreat, and the tremours to become manageable. Locking the trunk, he crawled back into bed. He had about seven doses left, just in case. He'd done the right thing... he had...