Harry Potter and a Mother's Love

     Harry Potter and A Mother's Love

"DEMOLISHIUM!" Harry cried, pointing his wand. The wall, the only thing apart from moments that seperated him from the most hated creature in the wizarding world, crumbled to pieces at his feet. He stepped over them, stalking into the now three-walled room.

    "VOLDEMORT!" His voice bounced off the walls, despite one missing. A spell, to intimidate those who entered the Dark Lord's chamber.

    "Harry Potter..." Voldemort turned around from the table he was conducting a potion at, half his face looking as though it'd been sewed on, for it had. Harry had taken the other half straight off in the last battle. I nearly got him that time, Harry thought bitterly, then smiled as he brought the wand up. But I'll get him this time...

     Harry Potter. Age 18. He graduated from Hogwarts last year, and moved out of Durlsey's forever, into his own, modest bachelor bad at the Phoenixwing Apartment Complex. Modest as magical homes get, that is. It was only temporary, he told himself. Only until I get a job; until I can afford a house. But he hadn't counted on Voldemort.

     Since Snape had been forced to rejoin the Death Eaters, Voldemort had come up with one potion after another, each with a more devastating effect than the last. He'd started subtle, with illnesses that looked to be the flu; but slowly, they grew ever more tragic. Some even affected the Muggles in the of anthrax. But it the wizards and witches he was after, and it was they who suffered. This looks to be a cinch, thought Voldemort. He hadn't counted on Harry.

    Voldemort was strong now. It was as bad as it had been eighteen years ago. It was a dark age, and all magic folk lived in fear. Harry tried his best, but it was just barely enough. Even getting half his head blown off wasn't enough to stop Voldemort, much to Harry's regret. The death rate increased day by day, and Harry was flushed in guilt. It's my duty to kill Voldemort, he told himself. If I could just bloody kill once and for all...

     Voldemort had much the same thoughts as Harry. But not really. For he had kept a secret all these years...

    "Harry Potter..." said Voldemort, turning around. His two mismatched eyes met Harry's. " Or should I say...SON?"

    "What?" Harry made a face of disgust. " What trick is this?"

    "It is no trick, Harry." Voldemort's smile was grotesque. " I'm your father."

     "What are you talking about? My father is James Potter!" he yelled, lifting his wand.

     "No, Harry." Voldemort shook his head. " Your mother, the little tart, she came to me..."

     "LIAR!" Harry filled with rage. " IT WASN'T ENOUGH TO KILL THEM! DON'T TALK ABOUT THEM THAT WAY! AVADA KED--"

     "Expelliarmus," Voldemort cited calmly. Harry panicked as the wand flew from his hand.

    "NO!" he dove for it--and came up to wand poked in his face.

    "It's all over, Potter," Voldemort grinned.

     "CEREBRUS COMBUSTUS!"

     BLAM! Brains sprayed over the room. The headless corpse fell to the ground. Harry got up and looked down at it, then over at the dark, robed figure who had cast the spell.

     "Who..." Harry started, then began to cough as a green mist spread over the room.

     "Potter," echoed Voldemort dimembodied voice. Without a word, the figure tossed a beaker of white fluid to the floor. It cracked open and splashed, then turned milky green as the mist was drawn into it.

     "AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHH..." the mist hissed as it was pulled in. The figure took an amber bead from a jar and dropped it into the mess on the stone floor. The bead sizzled and turned the liquid orange. Voldemort, was no more.

     The robed figure turned to leave.

     " WAIT." Harry's arm shot out, grabbing the person by the shoulder. He turned it around, and removed the hood.

     "No..." That red hair...those green eyes...he'd only seen them in photographs, and they were aged now, but he'd know them anywhere.

     "Mum..." Harry rasped.

    Harry Potter and a Mother's Love

     -2-

     "Mum..." The woman pulled the hood back up and tried to hurry away, but Harry caught her.

    "Are you my Mum?" he asked. He could be wrong...he had to be wrong...his Mum was DEAD! But she looked so much like her...

     The woman was silent. Finally, she spoke.

    "Yes, Harry." A tear clung to her cheek. She pushed the hood down and shook her red locks free, wiping the tear away.

"Harry...I've done some horrible things..."

"No..." He couldn't believe it, he didn't want to believe it.

"I'm a Death Eater, Harry."

"NO! YOU LIE!" Harry crouched down and put his hands over his ears like a child. The woman who claimed to be his mother sat down beside him.

"My name is Lily Potter, and I do not lie, Harry. Please, before you kill me--"

" Kill you?" Harry looked up in surprise. " If you're really my Mum...I'd never kill you."

The woman smiled sadly. "Thank-you. But please, before you do anything, let me tell you what happened."

     "What do you mean?"

     "Just--listen."

     * * *

     I fell in love with your father a long, long time ago. Everyone said we were a perfect match. We acted like we were, looked like it...and for the first few years, it wasn't an act. But sometimes I wonder if there is such a thing as true love, Harry. If there is, I know James and I didn't share it. But everyone looked up to us; we were a fairy-tale couple, role models for all. We were very respected.

     But as the years went on, we grew from loving to liking to disliking to loathing. We had security spells up, so no one could see or hear when we had our fights. It grew to be too much for me. Every day, I would wake up and go through my day, everyone thinking I was the perfect wife with the perfect marriage, forcing me to act the part, putting on a smile of falsity. But inside, I was cringing, only wishing it were true, that I really loved James. Later, when James and I were home, we would find something to fight about. The fights would gradually worsen, going from bad--to worse. One of us might even up with a black eye or bloody nose that we'd cover up with magic until the healing spell kicked in. We always made up at the end, but it wasn't enough to heal our anguish.

     The only person I could confide in, it seemed, was Peter. I'd tell him about our fights, leaving out what I'd done and telling him only how James had abused me. The more I talked, the more it broke Peter's heart, but he grew to loathe Peter, too.

     Even with Peter's kind ear closeby, however, I felt lost and depressed in this tumultuous marriage. It was after a recent fight, and I'd stalked out before anyone could say they were sorry. Walking on the streets, all was peaceful, but it ceased to brighten my mood, identical to the dark night. That's when I bumped into him.

     I knew Tom Riddle from school, but since he'd become a dark lord, all were frightened of him. My heart pounded in my chest, and I tried to run. He grabbed me, and turned me around, pressing my face to his. Somehow, in a sinister way, he charmed me; and I felt a way towards him I'd never felt for James. Before I knew what was happening, we were in a room together. I don't know whose room it is; he was all I could focus on. The story of James and our horrid marriage came tumbling out of my mouth, and Tom held me close.

     We made love that night.

When I woke up the next morning, a spot on my arm burned. I looked at it in horror; it was the Death Mark.

I dressed and returned home hurriedly. When James saw how pale my face was, he asked where I'd been and how I was. I murmured something about renting a room at an inn, and rushed to bed, wearing a sleeved nighshirt so he couldn't see the mark.

    Soon, I found I was pregnant. I forgot about the one-night stand and was overjoyed. Perhaps a child would save our marriage!

     But it ceased to work. Life went on, our marriage worthless as ever. The next time I saw Peter, I couldn't help it. I cried on his shoulder and told him everything that happened. He listened with a stony face, and patted my back. He was a very good friend to me. Voldemort killed him recently...I can't believe it...

     But, anyway, when the boy was finally born, James and I just assumed he was the father. But when I held the boy up, I recognized immediately that he--you--were Voldemort's son. Did you really think he passed that much to you through a spell intended to kill you?

     But I didn't want James to find out as you grew older. I cast a spell on you, so you would grow to look like James. But I don't think James was fooled. We fought more than ever after your birth; confused and angry, I left the house after a fight again one night. Once again, Voldemort was there.

     He listened again to my story, and nodded wisely throughout. In agreement that I would join with him, he said, he would kill James, and make it look like he killed me, too. Blinded by my anger, I agreed.

    The plan was that he would draw James out and kill him. I would already be protected from the attack he planned to use; but I was to bring you out and have you spellproofed as well. Then, he would destroy the house with us in it, and we would go with him under an invisibility cloak, making it look as though we were all dead. I'm so ashamed, Harry; I don't know what I was thinking...

At first, it went as planned. The event happened after your first birthday. I was rocking you to sleep, when I heard James yell for me to come out.

    "Voldemort's out there," he panicked. " You and Harry stay in here...I'll go out and try to drive him away."

At first, I was relieved he didn't need to be forced out or baited. Then my heart sank, as I watched him go out and try to protect us. It hit me; it was always ME who started the fights. The one who started throwing the punches; James only hit back in defense, as the aid of my wand made me a formidable opponent. And here James was, hopelessly risking his life for us.

    "James...NO!" I screamed. Too late. I watched his corpse drop. And it was all my fault.

     Voldemort gestured for me to come out. I shook my head. He frowned, and tried again. Again, I refused. This angered him. He held back his wand, gestured an incantation, and let the spell loose. You were all I could think of. I held you close, and cloaked you in a spell so you wouldn't die. Fortunately, it worked, and you only suffered a scar. But then Voldemort stalked through the rubble. I knew better than to fight him; I set you down amongst the debris, pulled on the invisibility cloak he gave me, and left with him. Knowing what a horrible person I'd become, Harry, I knew I could never raise you, and plenty would want to raise you for me, you were such a loveable child. I'm so sorry...I had no idea your home would be with my sister...

    And, please don't hate Peter, Harry. He became a Death Eater because he feared for my sake; Voldemort made a bargain with him on it. It drove him nuts, being a Death Eater, and I'm so, so sorry I ever brought him into. Because of me, he lived as a rat for twelve long years. By then, he'd pretty much lost himself, and Voldemort killed him in your fifth year.

I'm still alive though. Still a Death Eater. I didn't want to shame you, so I pretended to be dead.

     * * *

     Harry's Mum recovered her head.

" Please...kill me now, Harry. As you would any treacherous Death Eater who murdered your father. I have nowhere to go, with Voldemort dead. And I can never show my face to my loved ones again." Telling the story seemed to have given Lily strength; the strength to accept death.

    Harry stood, silent.

    "Please, Harry. If you love your mother...Please."

Harry raised his wand.

"Good-bye, Mother," he whispered.

     "AVADA KEDAVRA!" Her body fell before him. He lingered, hands shaking, and began to cry.

    "Good-bye..."

     THE END

     Epilogue

     Harry killed the Death Eaters, and became more celebrated than ever by the public. Peace was returned to their world, and the magic folk held celebrations that lasted months. Harry was honored and loved, and eventually married. Harry Potter was never forgotten...and he never forgot.