Harry Potter and the Ancient Secret of War

Chapter Fifteen

Ab Initio Ad Aeterno

(From the Beginning till the End)

"We shall have revenge, Nagini. You and I - we shall have revenge." These words echoed in Harry's mind as he woke up - his scar in the worst possible state of pain - his vocal chords screaming at the top of the capacity of his lungs. Lord Voldemort's last words were like the loud, noisy beat of a gong that reverberated in space for a long, long time.

Slowly, the pain in Harry's scar subsided and he opened his eyes. They were very watery, and it was a while before he could adjust his gaze properly. When he did so, he found himself looking into the concerned faces of Hermione, Ginny and Luna. Luna was looking less dreamy than usual and Harry was to know later that it was the expression she had for concern.

"Harry, are you alright?" Hermione asked breathlessly.

Harry couldn't reply just yet. He nodded a little and took a few deep breaths. In the meantime, he heard Ron running over to him from across the castle, with Bickerstaff and Snape coming along as well. Ron seemed to have conveyed the gravity of the situation to the two professors as they too, were hurrying along to the beech tree on the grounds, under which Harry was currently set, trying to regain his much shaken senses.

Finally, Harry could feel himself breathing again. The pain was still there, though dulled.

By now, Ron, Bickerstaff and Snape had joined the little company. Harry now noticed that the sun had already set; the days were clearly short considering that it was in the middle of October. He guessed that it was now about seven in the evening.

Bickerstaff knelt beside Harry took his hand. It was cold.

"Mr Potter?" he asked, looking at the younger boy's sweat-covered brow, "Mr Potter? Can you hear me?" Snape stood beside them, watching quietly, his face as sullen as ever.

Normally, Harry would have been amused by the question considering that he was still alive, and breathing. But as for now, he was busy with his mental faculties being clogged with repetitions of the vision he had of Lord Voldemort. Still, he managed to nod weakly at his teacher.

"What happened?" Bickerstaff asked.

"I had a vision. I saw Voldemort." Harry replied.

Bickerstaff tensed up on hearing this and pain passed over his features.

However, on hearing this, Snape now rounded off upon Harry. "How many times do I have to insist upon you, Potter," he said menacingly, "that you need to be on guard constantly? Don't you understand that you are supposed to use Occlumency whenever the occasion arises?"

Harry looked up at Snape and said, "I didn't know I was asleep, and anyway, I was a having a good dream. I didn't know that the intrusion would come at such a time."

"You should have been prepared. The Dark Lord won't seek your appointment before carrying out the assault," Snape sneered.

"But-" Harry began seething at the Potions master, but he was cut off by Bickerstaff.

"Mr Potter, Severus, we could do with a little peace here," he said. On turning to the others, he said again, "I would like all of you to leave Mr Potter with us for a moment." Harry thought that Bickerstaff's body language conveyed something strange. He was clearly excited as well as a bit frightened. Seeing the confused looks on Hermione's face and that of the others, Bickerstaff reassured, "Don't worry. I am not a Death Eater and neither is Professor Snape here. Please give us a moment alone with him."

Finally, Harry's friends acquiesced and went uncertainly towards the castle. When they were out of hearing range, Bickerstaff said, "What did you see, Harry? I need you to tell me everything. Do you understand?"

Harry nodded at his teacher in understanding. He noted the fact that Bickerstaff had called him by his first name. It did seem that it was something that came naturally to him, as if he had always called him Harry, and not Mr Potter. Had he known Bickerstaff during his infancy, when his parents were still alive? If he had, he didn't remember.

Harry looked at Bickerstaff. His hair had become slightly whiter in the couple of months that he had known him. At the moment, his eyes lacked the sparkle that was reserved for the times when he taught his pupils. His face was mixed with fear and anguish, as if he himself felt the pain and suffering that Harry had had to bear. Harry then chance a glance at Snape who was still standing by the tree, sullen and expressionless as ever, waiting for Harry to say something.

He turned back to Bickerstaff and began his narration. He spoke up and told the both of them everything. He tried to keep his voice calm as he spoke. He told them everything, except for the part about seeing Voldemort himself. He felt too much terror at the sight of the face. Every time he blinked his eyes, he saw those hideous features staring back at him. He might be one of the bravest persons around but even he quailed under the shadow of that sight.

Bickerstaff took in all this information that Harry was giving them and shook his head ruefully, as if all the information did not bode that well. He took a deep breath and let it out.

It was Snape, however, who spoke up now, "Did you see his face? Did you see the Dark Lord?"

Harry nodded. A significant glance passed between Snape and Bickerstaff, as if they knew the consequences and all of what had happened. He said, "Yes, he stood in front of a mirror, almost as if he wanted to show me how he looked."

"Did you notice the change?" Bickerstaff said, even as he knew that it was an unnecessary question to ask. From what he had heard, once any one saw that countenance, he/she never forgot it.

Harry nodded.

"Well, it's just as well," Bickerstaff sighed. "Might be a blessing in disguise instead." He looked up at Snape as he said this. Snape, though, didn't react. Bickerstaff continued, "It will be useful in overcoming any sense of surprise that you might have felt at you next meeting."

"Do you believe that meeting will take place?" Harry asked, fixing his gaze intently on Bickerstaff.

But it was Snape who answered his question. "Potter, don't the past five years account for a reason to believe that?" he sneered at Harry.

Harry didn't say anything. He wasn't going to let Snape know that he agreed with him.

After a while, he asked Bickerstaff, "So how do you know of the change?" He could not bring himself to term it as anything but the 'change', not so long as the memory was so clear, so strong.

"The members of the Order have spies, Harry," Bickerstaff explained, even chancing a glance at Snape while he said so. "Even in You-Know-Who's Inner Circle, they are present. We know a lot of what is going on with him. There have only been two instances till now when we have failed completely - one was our failure in the Department of Mysteries and the other was our failure in preventing Le Tallec's assassination."

"But how did it happen?" Harry asked.

"More like he did it to himself," Bickerstaff said. "I don't know much about this except that it is one of the most powerful spells in Dark magic. I guess Dumbledore knows well enough what's going on, and he has told the Order some of it. He intended to tell you all this himself, but you came to know about it much earlier than anyone of us intended."

"What?" Harry asked.

"The new appearance of the Dark Lord and the assassination of the French minister are related. They are part of some elaborate plan of his to gain immortality," It was Snape who explained now, with an air of impatience, as if anyone walking on the road could figure out what Harry had asked. "He has kept all his plans to himself till now, and none are aware of the details, and hence that is what either I or Professor Bickerstaff can tell about this matter for now."

"But how did Lucius Malfoy get free? By the way it looks, he has gotten free without anyone having a sniff as to where he is. Otherwise the papers would have been full of news about his escape." Harry began.

"That's something I've been thinking about as well," Bickerstaff replied. "Even the Ministry's official papers show Lucius Malfoy as being a captive still..." After a pause, he continued, "I think this treachery runs quite deep, Harry. I will be informing Dumbledore of this, and we will try to get into the heart of this matter."

"But-" Harry began again.

"No, Harry," Bickerstaff stopped him. "Severus is right. We don't know anything more than this; neither does anyone else who belongs to the Order. So, you will be wasting your time if you try and ask us about all that is going on. So, let's go inside now, shall we? Your friends must still be worried."

Harry nodded. He got up. Snape nodded at Bickerstaff, who nodded back and walked swiftly away from them, in the direction of the Forbidden Forest. Harry and the Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher walked back to the castle. Just as they entered the Entrance Hall, Bickerstaff said, "I'll part ways with you here. I have to meet Dumbledore now."

Harry nodded and looked around the deserted Entrance Hall. But he was no longer alone now, as his friends gathered all around him, anxious to ensure his well-being.

"Harry, mate, are you okay?" Ron asked, clearly concerned. Hermione had entwined her fingers with his.

"Yeah, I'm all right." Harry said.

"What happened, Harry?" Ginny asked, concern coupled with curiosity palpable in her voice.

"Look..." Harry said. "I'll talk with all of you later, all right? It's just that I'm not really feeling up to it at the moment. I'll tell you everything tomorrow."

They didn't look convinced but nodded nevertheless. When Ron came back from dinner, he found Harry's bed-curtains closed. He had half a mind to pull them open and see if he was okay, but decided against it, thinking that whatever had happened, Harry would tell him alright.

Meanwhile, Harry had skipped dinner and come up to the dorms, his mind intent on having some rest. But even as he went along, his mind was clouded by glimpses of his vision. How did Lucius Malfoy become free? What was the reason behind Lord Voldemort's transformation, something that only Dumbledore was aware of? And above all, in what way was Hermione endangered, now that the news of their relationship was out?

Harry had always known at the sub-conscious level that Hermione's friendship with him had and would always put her in danger. Ever since the Second year at Hogwarts, something or the other had happened to her, something bad, all because she had been his friend. Second year had seen her getting petrified. Third year made her deal with considerable emotional distress with Ron and him not speaking to her, even at a time when she had the greatest need of their support and understanding. Fourth year saw her at the heart of a fictitious scandal that made her the subject of incoming hate-mail from across the length and breadth of the country. Fifth year, well how could he forget that? The whole length of the year, she had spent in tempering his anger and soothing his frayed, tired nerves. The end result was a nearly fatal injury (at least that's what Harry believed; he had been too scared to talk to her about it lest she should blame him) and a curse about which he knew nothing except the words of Madam Pomfrey that said it had caused enough damage to be going on with.

All that sub-conscious belief had earlier been driven to the forefront when her parents were attacked during the summer. Still, his worries had been allayed somewhat by her soothing words which told him that he was not to be blamed. The turmoil of his mind had accepted this simple fact, glad to have a clear answer to one of the questions that constantly nagged his mind.

But again, this was undeniably different. Voldemort now knew what Hermione really meant to him. That was another weapon that he had now gathered to himself. But that did not worry Harry. What worried him were the new dangers that Hermione would now be exposed to. He didn't want to see her hurt, ever. He didn't want her to meet the same fate had had known his parents and his godfather to meet. And for that, he needed to distance himself from her.

Yes, there came the belief in distancing himself from others once again, even though he knew it was pretty much impossible for him to do so. Yet he must try. Why? Harry couldn't answer, but something told him - something like an inherent thought in his mind - that he must.

Maybe, it was something that had come to him from spending all those years with the Dursleys - being kicked around, belittled and bullied. The Dursleys always believed that the only way of getting rid of Harry's magical talent was to do precisely all these things. Such a horrible treatment meted out to him during his childhood had always made Harry withdraw into a shell. It gave him the feeling that he was cut off from the world within his coterie and immune from hurting anyone else - something that he had been forced to believe in by his relatives. Even now when he had found his place in the world, he was still sub-consciously driven by those beliefs that the Dursleys had drilled into him. Hence, he tended to withdraw into his shell once again when the situation became too overwhelming for him.

That was what Harry was beginning to do now. A lack of self-belief was coming to the fore. He had now decided what he would do, even though the fact was that he knew it was wrong on his part. He was confused and he knew it. But he didn't think there was anything around which could alleviate his misery. It was in such times that Harry missed Sirius the most. He didn't know who to talk to when things became too confusing. He didn't know now who to turn to when he could not make up his own mind.

Even as Harry pondered all this - all the while laying in his bed, eyes open and staring at the high ceiling that was faintly illuminated by the light of candles glowing around the room, beside his dorm-mates' beds - Ron came into the room and started getting ready to retire for the night. Harry lay still, hoping that Ron would not come and try to talk with him. He shut his eyes closed, just in case he decided to. Ultimately, when he heard his friend climb into his own bed, he heaved a sigh of relief.

Harry kept his eyes closed for a few moments. He could see only darkness, everything was black. His ears perceived no sound. All was still, as if the world hung by the thread of doom. Harry opened his eyes again, yet he couldn't see a thing. He wondered for a moment if he had gone blind. He involuntarily jerked his right hand up from its resting position and waved it in front of his eyes.

He was thoroughly bewildered now. He couldn't think of anything that had happened earlier, which might have caused this blindness. But even as time ticked by, relief flooded his mind as he saw his vision clearing up. He was outside now, out in the moonlight. How he had reached wherever he was, he did not know.

It was an empty street, quite like an ordinary neighbourhood as seen at midnight. The houses looked nothing like the ones owned by the Dursleys and their snobby neighbours. They were all quite unlike each other. Some were three-storied, some two. They had their lights on and looked very warm and cosy from the outside. Yet to Harry, those houses, this street conveyed a vague sense of familiarity, as if he had been here before. He somehow knew that he had, somewhere in the past, visited this place and more curiously, he felt a felling of homecoming here. It was as if the place had once been his home.

Suddenly, Harry heard a 'crack' in the middle of the road. Someone had Apparated into the village. Whether it was a wizard or a witch, Harry could not tell, although judging from the tall figure before him, it might well have been the former. The person who'd appeared started walking down the road taking long, measure strides. Every step of his exuded purpose and an unnatural sense of anticipation. Harry followed him and soon left the street where he had first appeared.

In about fifteen minutes, they came to a halt in front of a great gate, of iron bars, shut fast together. The wizard now dropped the hood of his black cloak and Harry could see the back of his head. He waved his wand in the air and was clearly performing a spell. Harry moved around to catch a glimpse of the face. He was shocked when he recognised the gaunt, white face and the red pupils in those malice-ridden eyes. It was Lord Voldemort.

Harry moved in front of him but the Dark Lord did not notice his presence. So, he was in a vision after all. Whether it was of the past or the present, Harry could not tell.

Lord Voldemort now walked steadily across the lavish grounds that led to a mansion. Harry followed, curious to see where he was. Voldemort stood before the great doors of the mansion and uttered an unlocking spell. The door opened inwards noiselessly. Voldemort went inside and began walking up the stairs, as if he were completely at home within the mansion.

Suddenly, Harry heard a person's voice from upstairs, "Lily! Take Harry and go! It's him! Go! Run! I'll hold him off-"

There was a sound of shuffling feet as someone stumbled out from the room. Meanwhile, Voldemort directed his wand at the door of the room from where the voice had come.

Harry's face, meanwhile, drained of all colour. He knew that voice. He knew who it was addressed to. He knew now where he was. He even knew the time in which he was. He knew the outcome of all this. For he was now in the village of Godric's Hollow on Halloween night, fifteen years ago. He was about to see two people die, and a human getting vanquished to a lifeless spirit full of malice. He was visiting the night his parents were murdered, the night when he was marked as an 'Equal'.

The door burst open at the force of Voldemort's spell and revealed a dark haired man with brown eyes, standing inside, wand at the ready. His face was white and ghost-like, his whole form was trembling slightly and sweat had formed on his brow. He was clearly frightened, in all probability, frightened to death but that did not, in anyway, diminish his abilities with a wand. For as soon as Voldemort entered the room, he sent a powerful Stunner right at him. But the Dark Lord was not to be overcome so easily. He conjured up a shield effortlessly out of thin air and diverted the spell back. The man showed remarkable reflexes in side-stepping the rebounded spell. Lord Voldemort laughed his high-pitch laughter.

This was how Harry beheld his father in combat - in his last battle. His eyes had a look of determination in them. Harry knew what that meant. James Potter had decided that he would save his family from the evil menace before him, even if it meant that he would have to die tonight. Little did he know that he would have both death and have his family decimated.

"I shall enjoy killing you," Lord Voldemort hissed at James. "It's not everyday that I find someone so willing to challenge me. I've wondered sometimes with all the cowardice out there if I've not become too slack with the wand. After all, how could I let you and your wife escape me thrice?"

"This will not be our end, but yours," James answered, his voice an empty threat and sent another curse at the Dark Lord, but he dodged it easily. Harry watched in amazement. Only a distance of about twenty-five feet separated both the duellers and the pace of the spells was unbelievably fast. Yet Lord Voldemort seemed to divert the curses aimed at him with consummate ease.

James, on the other hand, had to rely more on a combination of his reflexes and his wand skills to do the same. He was putting up a very brave fight indeed. Yet as time ticked by, it was clear who the victor was going to be.

Suddenly, Lord Voldemort made a slashing movement with his wand - the same spell which Dolohov had fired at Hermione at the ministry. James could not dodge this spell and it hit him in the chest. He sank down to the floor. His chest was bleeding now. His wand slipped from his hand and rolled away across the floor.

Voldemort came up and stood in front of James now. He didn't laugh, but looked down at his defeated opponent with respect. Finally, he said, even as more blood poured out from James' wound, "You fought bravely. You kept your honour. You deserve a painless death." With that, he pointed his wand at James and said, "Avada Kedavra!"

A green light issued from the wand and hit James. At the moment, the agony of his wound subsided and he fell against the floor, never again to see the light of the day.

Voldemort swept past James' dead body and entered the adjoining room. Harry followed him. There, standing against the wall was Lilly Potter with a one-year old Harry in her arms. Her auburn hair gleamed faintly in the candlelight and in her eyes were many tears.

Voldemort stopped before her and said in a sinister, high-pitched tone, "Give me the boy."

"No, not Harry. Please not Harry. I'll do anything." Lily entreated.

"Stand aside girl, stand aside-" Voldemort reiterated.

"Not Harry, please not Harry-" Lily continued saying.

"Stand aside, you silly girl-" Voldemort repeated.

"Please don't harm him. No, take me instead. Kill me instead. But not Harry. Please have mercy. Have mercy..." Lily said between her sobs.

Voldemort only cackled in laughter. He said, "Your husband is already dead. I don't want to kill you, nor do I need to. Give me the boy and go away from here. You will see mercy then."

As soon as Lily heard this, her face hardened and her expression became stony. She had reached her resolve and would not back away now.

She brought her wand up and held it firmly in her grasp. Seeing this, Voldemort prepared for another duel but Lily did not attack him.

She merely brought her wand and drew and imaginary circle around Harry's head. She spoke in an inaudible whisper, "Let our common blood protect you till the end of days. Let the blood from within, protect you from the beginning to eternity. Ab Initio Ad Aeterno."

Harry was sure that Voldemort did not hear these words for he merely stood there waiting, wand at the ready.

Finally, Lily said, "I will not let you kill my son."

"Then, I shall have to kill you first," Voldemort replied and uttered the fatal spell. "Avada Kedavra!" and a jet of light issued from his wand and rushed to hit Harry's mother.

Even as death sped towards her, Lily closed her eyes and said, tightening her grip on the baby Harry who was crying by now, "Here it begins; and here shall it end."

The curse hit her and she collapsed on the floor lifeless. Her grip on her son loosened and he crawled towards her, trying to wake her up.

Voldemort laughed. The little Harry turned his attention towards him, his emerald green eyes incident on the Dark Wizard before him. The whole wizardkind held great fear for the person before him, yet the small child did not feel any of it. It was an innocent gaze and Harry knew even as he watched the past unfolding before him like a movie, that his younger self had no idea of the evil standing before him.

Voldemort looked down upon the infant in front of him, sizing the baby up with sharp eyes that had been honed to scrutinize and understand.

He looked at the baby and said, "You are supposed to be the one who shall challenge my superiority then? Let's see how you survive my wrath. One spell and I shall put you to an eternal sleep, and then, I shall be invincible. Avada Kedavra!"

Voldemort laughed as for the third time that night, the green light emanated from his wand and hit the baby Harry. The grown-up Harry, meanwhile, looked on with anticipation. He knew the end to all this but he did not know the means to that end.

Voldemort was now laughing for all he was worth. It was the same cackling laughter that Harry always recalled hearing in his dreams. But soon, it became clear that the spell wasn't working. The green light surrounded the infant but could not touch him. Slowly, it turned to white and rebounded upon its own originator.

Voldemort watched in horror as he saw something never seen before in the annals of history. The force of his own Killing Curse rebounded upon him and struck him like lightning. He screamed so loudly at this, so hideously in pain that Harry had to close his ears with his hands to prevent that infernal sound from penetrating into his senses.

Voldemort's body collapsed to the ground and a mist formed around the room. The wind picked up and the ground began shaking violently, almost as if it were in the middle of a great earthquake. The roof blew off and a dark and cloudy sky was revealed to the eyes. Such was the storm that was brewing that Harry, even though he knew it was a vision of the past, wondered for a moment if he would make it out through this alive.

The walls of the house were now crumbling. Harry was pretty sure that the whole building would collapse. Without a second thought, he rushed over to where his infant form was and picked him up. Even as he did so, the floor sank beneath his feet and the house collapsed, becoming a heap of ruins. Harry used his mind to concentrate upon cushioning the fall and after the house collapsed, he found himself hovering in the air, his own baby form crying at all this violence, and nestled in his arms. Harry slowly brought himself down to the ground amidst all the ruins.

Voldemort's body lay a few feet away from where both 'Harrys' had landed. Suddenly, it burst into flame and the fire spread to the ruins of the house. The fire smouldered even as the wind picked up and at the same time, rain began pouring down upon the ruins. It was a strange and unique sight - wind, rain and flame existing in perfect equilibrium - three of the five fundamental forces of nature incident together on a single location.

Soon enough, the fire was extinguished by the rain and the rain was carried away by the blustery wind. The wind itself blew away all the mist that had formed after Voldemort's demise. Even as it passed, Harry felt anger and evil radiating from it. He believed it was Voldemort's vanquished spirit. Whether it saw only the baby Harry floating in the air or his grown-up form standing there as well, Harry couldn't tell.

Harry now diverted his attention towards his younger self. How he could see himself, he had no idea. Harry looked up at the forehead of the baby. He had noticed on seeing him first that there was no scar on his forehead. But now, after destiny had had its way, he saw the one sign of his fate - the mark of an equal - a lightning-bolt shaped scar had appeared on the forehead and it was now bleeding. He was crying loudly.

Harry looked at his baby form. 'This is so weird,' he thought. 'I wish Hermione were here. I don't even know how to handle a baby, even if that baby is I myself.'

Harry brought up his free hand and touched the spot where the scar, already well-defined, had now formed. It was burning hot, he could feel it from the way his skin tingled, but surprisingly, when he actually touched it Harry felt a sudden coolness envelop him - as if he were surrounded by fire all around but was laying on ice at the same time. Blood oozed from the mark and trickled onto Harry's hand as he touched the spot.

'My blood!' Harry thought. 'Our blood - the blood that protect you and me.' Things were definitely very very weird now.

Harry now heard a loud voice calling across the expanse of land that had surrounded the once erect mansion. 'Lily! James!'

He knew that voice. It was Hagrid. He must have come to take his baby form away. He wondered where to hide now. He put his younger self down on the ground (where he started crying again) and even as he did so, he felt himself being pulled farther and farther away from those ruins.

An instant later, Harry woke up under the sheets in his four-poster bed. It wasn't warm, yet he was sweating profusely.

Harry looked around himself, and was relieved to see the familiar confines of his dorm about him. Yet even as he raised his hand to his eyes and the faint light of a candle was cast upon it, he could see fresh blood there. He was also wet from the rain that had fallen.

The knowledge of the blood being there brought Harry back to his vision; he now knew what one of his recurrent dreams and visions meant. Tonight, he had visited the time and place of his parents' deaths and even played a small part in the proceedings after Voldemort was vanquished. How, he did not know. But Harry knew one thing for sure - there was a purpose to why he saw all this. There was a clear undercurrent to this. It was as if someone was trying to reach out to him and teach him something, even though he could not decipher the subject at this time.

He would have to figure this out, he knew, and the sooner he did that, the better it would be for him.

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