Mourning Dawn (A Prelude to The Wand of Elder)

Author's Note:

This prelude is a bit of therapy for me. It is my way of putting the incredibly wonderful canon of Harry Potter to rest in my mind. I felt after reading the book that JKR had ended the story perfectly. She let us know, in a general way, what happened to the characters, but she did not tell us the details. This will leave the world of Harry Potter fanfic alive for years to come. Thank Goodness.

This story is my way of detailing some of the immediate aftermath of the main story of Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows. It is also a way of fleshing out and solidifying the relationships and the emotions of the characters after the battle. JKR hinted at these themes, but thankfully left much to our imaginations.

This is also a prelude to a larger story that I will explain after the last chapter of this tale. This prelude introduces the themes and characters which will important in that lengthy work.

So I leave this author's note and begin this story at the point where JKR left the final installment of her masterpiece. We pick up the story right where she left off...

"I think Harry's right," said Hermione quietly.

"That wand's more trouble than it's worth," said Harry. "And quite honestly," he turned away from the painted portraits, thinking now of only the four-poster bed lying waiting for him in Gryffindor tower, and wondering whether Kreacher might bring him a sandwich there, "I've had enough trouble for a lifetime."

Harry closed his eyes and rubbed them under his glasses with his fingers. He, Hermione and Ron turned wearily towards the door to the Headmaster's Office. As Harry crossed the room, his eyes slightly unfocused, a shape like a diminutive black bat caught his attention.

It was a picture frame in which the figure stood, watching him with beady black eyes. It struck Harry suddenly that the size of the picture frames on the walls must be determined by the length of time during which the headmaster served. He realized this because the figure stood in a very small frame on a narrow strip of uncluttered wall near the door.

Severus Snape was the only former headmaster in the room that was not smiling proudly down at him. Harry stopped dead in his tracks.

"Oh!" whispered Hermione softly from behind him as she saw what had caused Harry to pull up abruptly.

"Blimey!" breathed Ron.

Harry took an uncertain step towards the portrait, and then another. Within a few heartbeats he stood before his former Potions Master. Harry exhaled heavily, just realizing that he had been holding his breath. Snape glared at Harry without expression. Harry opened his mouth, but then shut it again. He had no idea what to say. He tried to start again, but he could think of no appropriate words.

A slight sardonic smile played across Snape's colorless visage.

"Well, Potter," said the portrait, the ever-present sneer in his voice, "it seems I have finally managed to prevent you and your friends from speaking out of turn."

Harry felt a sudden urge to laugh. The ludicrous awkwardness of this situation was too much for his weary mind. Harry felt an insolent grin spread across his face. Snape's face became thunderous, and he looked like he was going to say something biting. Harry forestalled him by speaking first.

"Professor Snape," said Harry loudly, molding his own expression to that of stern respectfulness. "May we be excused, Sir? We are very tired, Sir, and would like to be off to bed."

Harry heard the tone of awe in his own voice, which had never existed while Snape had lived. For the first time in seven years, Harry had not added any sarcasm to the word "sir." All of the portraits in the headmaster's office had gone silent, taking a break from their celebrations as their painted eyes absorbed the interplay between Harry and Snape. Snape said nothing, but Harry saw his eyes dart towards Dumbledore's portrait. Snape's severe expression softened, if only by a hair.

"Very well, Potter," said Snape. "You...may go."

Snape and Harry watched each other without expression as Harry held the door open for Ron and Hermione. Holding hands, they preceded Harry from the room. Harry nodded to Snape as he began to exit the room.

"Potter!" said Snape sternly just before the door closed.

"Yes, Sir?" asked Harry, peering back at the portrait.

"Well...done," began Snape stonily, looking surprised at his own voice. Then the portrait figure took a breath as if bracing for something painful. "That was...very well done."

"Thank you, Sir," said Harry softly, and he let the door click shut behind him.