Last Mistake

Chapter three -Dubious Truth

"It's early, Don. Where are you headed?"

"Out."

"Such a broad answer."

"If you plan on talking to my walls, then by all means, stay. If not, then I ask that you get your ugly arse out of my fireplace."

"You're not even at work yet and you're already a grumpy mess."

Dondres walked over to the refrigerator and opened it wide. Then he slammed it shut with force, irritation written all over his clean-shaven face. Leward caught a glimpse of the contents of the refrigerator and knew immediately why his friend's mood worsened at least ten times in that half a minute.

"Serves you right, my man. How many times do I have to tell you that whiskey isn't breakfast?" he said, seemingly jovial about it.

Dondres growled in anger and quickly slipped on the robe he had been searching for all morning, only to find that it has been lying innocently on the couch. While Leward was still blabbing on, he went inside his (surprisingly) organized bedroom as opposed to his chaotic living room, to retrieve his wand. Leward finally shut his smart mouth but the chatting came back with vigor when Dondres returned to the living room. He was suddenly very glad that he hadn't agreed to place a fireplace in his bedroom.

"How about coffee? Not quite healthy either, but it's certainly a step up from whiskies."

Dondres continued to ignore the head in his fireplace while he checked if he had everything he needed. He cursed at the time on his watch.

"What's your hurry? I know you're not on duty yet."

Seeing the empty whiskey bottle on the floor, Dondres picked it up. With a frustrated grunt, he flung the bottle across the room. It shot straight at Leward's head and shattered in pieces when it hit the back of the fireplace.

Dondres smiled his first smile of the day when Leward's head disappeared from his fireplace. Gathering his wits, he concentrated, eager to apparate away from his living room before the annoying head came back.

----------

He unceremoniously groaned at the brightness of the room, even though his eyes were still closed. Unconsciously, he snuggled deeper into the sheets, burying his head under the covers. Someone sitting across the room watched the person on the bed with mild amusement. Her expression turned sour when she heard rustling sounds. Approaching the bed, she saw his face aligned with beats of sweat. He was shaking and muttering incoherent things. Finally, she decided that it was time to cut his nap short.

There's a glass of water sitting on the bedside table. She reached for it, raising the glass over his head and tilted it, letting the contents drop onto the sleeping figure's head. Harry quickly bolt from the bed, unaware that his head, instead of knocking into the girl's head, went straight through.

The young woman sat herself on the side of the bed where it was vacant and waited while Harry blindly rubbed his right shoulder and then ran his hand across his face.

"It's useless to wipe yourself when you are quite dry," she said, startling Harry out of his sleepy daze.

He lifted his head and stared at her as if just realizing that she was there. His eyes narrowed in recognition after a few minutes.

"What are you doing here?" he asked, voicing his first thought.

"I believe I have a right to be here. It is my room, after all."

Harry slowly surveyed his surroundings and found that she was speaking the truth.

"What do you remember from yesterday night?" she asked.

Harry thought in concentration and groaned when he felt a headache coming on. He didn't notice the girl beside him looking a little concerned. A uniquely designed cloth appeared in her hand and she handed it to Harry.

"Put this on your head," she ordered.

Harry took it from her without question and placed it on his aching head. He felt too... drained to be suspicious of her every action, whoever she was. As soon as the cloth touched his skin, warmth spread though his forehead. He was genuinely amazed at how fast his headache was dissipating. When the pain had subsided to a bearable level, he turned his weary gaze at the stranger next to him.

He was taken aback at the change in appearance in daylight in comparison to the darkness of the nighttime. She was still wearing the same robe she had on yesterday. She looked even younger in the sunlight. If Harry hadn't been so preoccupied by his thoughts, he would've noticed how natural her beauty was. He did notice, however, that her expression was less playful and smug than last night. In fact, she looked quite serious right then.

When Harry produced no answer, she decided to give it to him instead.

"After your... stunt, you fainted."

He mentally scolded himself for that. Just because Voldemort was no longer around, it shouldn't give him any excuse as to let his guard and, apparently, his consciousness go astray. Something was seriously wrong.

"Then I brought you up here and lent you my bed for the night."

Harry then noticed that there was only one bed in the room and that was the one he had been sleeping on. He turned towards the stranger with curiosity. Obviously, she hadn't slept or if she did, it must not have been very comfortable, Harry thought, as he eyed the chair in the corner of the room.

"Who are you and why did you help me?" Harry asked.

"Wouldn't you rather know about what transpired last night?"

"Then tell me. Why was I able to do what I did last night?" he asked, letting her lead the conversation, for now.

"Isn't it obvious?"

Harry wanted to glare at her for her obvious mockery of him, but instead he kept a cold visage. He didn't want her to know what he was feeling.

"Are you going to tell me or not?" he asked, irritably.

She stared at him for a moment, her gaze unmoving. Harry tried not to flinch at her unnerving stare. She considered for a minute more before deciding that now was not the time to test his patience or waste any more precious time. It was time to be direct.

"I'll tell you if you promise to stay put until I'm finished. No matter how ridiculous it might sound to you."

"Alright..."

"You promise?"

"Yeah," he answered, curtly.

"Good. Hopefully, you won't faint on me this time."

"Either you get on with it, or I'm leaving," said Harry. She smiled softly at the underlying irritation in his tone of voice.

"Alright. Something's happened to you, something of which you obviously have no recollection whatsoever. I'm sure you're not completely clueless as to be unaware of missing something from your memory."

"So, someone must've placed a memory charm on me."

"Not quite. It's not that simple. That portion of your memory isn't completely lost. It's just hidden somewhere deep in your mind that even you aren't aware of having it. You just need a little reminder to jumpstart it back to the surface."

"And you know all this because...?"

"Because I have been watching you."

"Watching me?" he repeated, hoping that he'd heard wrong.

"Yes, but that isn't important right now-" Harry frowned at her admittance.

"Oh, but I think it is. You have been stalking me. Why?"

"Not stalking. Watching," she corrected.

"It's stalking when I have no clue as to who you are or that you have been watching me." His irritation was beginning to manifest to anger at the direction the banter was heading.

"Wait, you followed me outside of the pub last night, didn't you?" Harry asked, recalling what he felt that night.

She didn't answer and Harry didn't need her to.

"I don't appreciate such an invasion of what little privacy I have left. So you better have a good explanation in mind before I resort to magic," said Harry, evenly.

Ever since his defeat of the Dark Lord, reporters and anything related to the press were the bane of his existence. If he thought his popularity was a bothersome matter before he defeated the dark wizard, it was nothing compared to the unwanted attention he received afterwards.

He literally couldn't wonder out without some sort of disguise. And if he didn't have the need to leave the house, he wouldn't have even considered parting from his doorstep. So, it was no surprise to those who know him how much he truly valued his privacy.

"You don't even have your wand," she pointed out. Harry had to wonder how she came about that information. When he saw her smug expression emerging once more, he didn't smirk back.

"Who says I need one?" he said, narrowing his eyes.

Precisely a second after, their gaze was broken when Harry felt a sleek hand on his neck. When he was forced against the wall, his head collided hard with the barrier. He was astonished that his glasses did not fall from his face as he tried to shake off the dizziness.

Once he was able to see again without encountering doubles of everything, he noticed that the same thing was happening to the young woman. However, she struggled with more effort than he did and seem to be fighting an invisible force.

Harry stared at the space in front of him while one of his hands wondered to his neck where the hand he couldn't see tightened. He could feel the arm that connected to the hand on his neck. With all the strength he could muster, he fought to loosen the hold around his neck. He was suffocating.

"Harry, you've got to fight them! Don't believe what's happening! They can't choke you! It's only an illusion of your senses!"

He was slipping into darkness but he could still hear her voice. What did she mean? He didn't understand. He tried to gasp for air, but the hand kept tightening. The grip was strong, too strong. Harry's drowsy eyes watched as she kicked at the invisible air. Her efforts looked to be futile.

Then he could no longer see her. A faceless white smoke suddenly appeared before him; it was also around his neck. He realized that he no longer felt like he was about to slip into unconsciousness any minute and he also didn't feel like he was being choked to death.

Hastily, his instincts kicked in and he pulled back his arm to release a heavy blow to his assailant's face. He was mildly surprised that it worked but didn't waste time to dwell on it. The smoky figure promptly let go of Harry's neck and stumbled back.

Harry raised his hand in the assailant's direction, but had to move away when it came charging at him. His movement caused the smoky figure to crash through the window of the room.

Without a backwards glance, Harry made his way over to the other faceless assailant that was still holding onto the young woman's neck very tightly. He would've winced at the strength behind that hold if she were actually showing signs of pain on her face. However, he'd have to admit that she looked rather bored more than anything else.

Easily, he plunged his fist into the figure's lower back. When it fell to the floor, Harry delivered a heavy kick to the back of the head. Then it disappeared.

"Lo-"

Before she even finished her warning, Harry's previous assailant fell to the floor behind him and disappeared as well. Lowering his raised elbow, Harry turned his accusing eyes on the woman before him.

"What was that all about?" he asked, his fiery emerald eyes trained on her.

"Look, Harry..."

Harry's features darkened, but he refrained from saying anything.

"...All the strange things that you've seen have everything to do with the memory that you don't remember. I know you don't understand how I know all this, but you will soon. What's important now is that you know the truth."

"And that is...?" Harry prompted when he got tired of her prolonged silence.

She hesitated and Harry could guess from her demeanor that it wasn't something he wanted to hear. She signed resignedly and looked him in the eye.

"You're dead."

----------

There was a knock on his door. He was beginning to wonder if there was some sort of reason for the sudden escalation of visitors he was receiving. Not intending to come off as arrogant, he overheard his name among the gossips between the students far often than any teacher should be mentioned. And he knew most of them weren't complaining about the way he runs his class or how much homework he assigns.

He was happy to know that many who had probably heard of his 'condition' from their parents did not care in the least about his 'disability'. Those who disliked him were mostly from the Slytherin house and he tried not to let that affect him. After all, he had as much of a right to be there as any of them did.

During the final battle against Voldemort, many werewolves had volunteered to fight and their enhanced senses made them a strong point for the light side. When it was over, their part in battle had taught many closed-minded witches and wizards that they're just as human as they were and deserved to be treated as such. It was also then that people started to let go of the myths about them. They are still considered dark creatures, but now people know that their background doesn't dictate their actions. Since then, many new laws were passed to bring justice to werewolves.

"Come in!"

The long shiny white beard was enough to bring him out of the questions of his mind as the headmaster entered his office. In a moment's notice, Remus dropped the quill he was using to grade the papers on his desk.

"I hope my impromptu visit isn't too much of an inconvenience."

"No, not at all! The papers can wait," said Remus, offering Dumbledore a seat.

Remus also returned to his chair and waited for Dumbledore to talk to him... about something. But Dumbledore's attention was elsewhere as he seemed to be surveying his office/sleeping quarters with an intense interest that he didn't quite understand. That's why he was surprised to find Dumbledore's intense gaze on him not a second after.

"How do you find the accommodations here thus far, Remus?"

"More than suitable, headmaster," he answered honestly.

For some reason, Remus knew that Dumbledore didn't really come to ask him how his stay at Hogwarts was for him. He was sure that there was something deeper to this meeting.

"I'm glad. I suppose you're prepared for the night's activity?"

"Yes." Tonight was the full moon.

"Good. Good. I ran into Severus earlier. He was planning to bring you the potion, but I thought I'd spare the both of you the awkward meeting by offering to bring you the potion myself." Dumbledore reached into his robe to retrieve the potion and handed it to Remus.

"You didn't have to go through the trouble. Severus and I get along well enough," Remus lied.

"I see," replied Dumbledore, obviously not believing but keeping his views to himself. "It was no trouble. In fact, it gave me an excuse to visit you."

"Headmaster, you don't need an excuse to come to me."

"Ah, but it is better to let the others dwell on the excuse. It tends to ease their inquisitiveness. I do not like to speak ill of my staff, but between you and I..." at this Dumbledore lowered his voice, his eyes twinkling, "...there are those who believe in the art of gossiping more so than the students."

"I see..." said Remus, his voice lined with amusement.

"Now, there is a matter I wish to discuss with you," said Dumbledore, his tone more serious than before. "I assume we won't be heard."

"No, my office is safe," said Remus, as he took the hint to place a silencing charm around his office.

"It is in my knowledge that you are still in contact with Sirius, am I correct?" Dumbledore asked.

"Yes, but barely. I'm afraid his most recent letter contained hardly more than a sentence or two. He refuses to give me any details and I don't dare to push him to write more."

Dumbledore listened patiently and remained silent.

"I-I fear that it'll end our communication completely and I can't have that," explained Remus, his worry seeping into his voice.

"Yes, I'm quite worried about him as well," sighed Dumbledore. "His health or otherwise."

Remus had no idea where this was headed and he wanted to know before continuing.

"What is this all about, Albus?"

----------

He was walking aimlessly around, oblivious to everything around him. Sometime after he was told the 'truth', his feet dragged him away from the pub and away from her. Of course, she had called after him with the promise of an explanation, but he hadn't a mind to listen to whatever she had to say.

He was surprised that she hadn't chased after him by the way she grabbed his arm in an attempt to make him listen. Harry tore his arm from her vice grip and ignored her protests. She hadn't once given him a reason to trust her. He didn't even know her name or what she was. Obviously, she wasn't an ordinary witch and he couldn't be sure if she was even one to begin with.

In his state of ignorance, his legs had somehow managed to land him in front of the mediocre house that he shared with his godfather and Remus. It had happened right after graduation when they all moved in together.

At the time, Voldemort was still well and alive, and yes, still after him. He had long since moved out of his dreadful relatives' house when he became of age to decide such matter for himself. The Dursleys' may have been the safest place for him to be, but after so many years of mistreatment, he no longer wanted to be subjected to their abuse, verbal or physical. Plus, the other fact of the matter is, he didn't want to hide anymore.

He knew he'd have to face Voldemort someday, that much he knew was impending. He had always known he'd join the many brave souls that were willing to risk their lives to fight in this war, and he did. There was too much to be fighting for, and he knew he had to be a part of it. There were too many lives lost along the way and he couldn't stand the sight of more innocent mangled bodies. They had all lost too much to lose any more.

Hermione had lost her father as the war escalated. She was devastated and Harry was more than willing to help her during that time because he knew all too well how it felt. However, she didn't stay down for long. Her father's death was a great pain but she had to stay strong for her mother and for the times. Harry admired her strength and it gave him more courage as the battle wore on. She remained by his side despite her loss and he was grateful to have her.

The Weasley family was also very much involved. Sometimes he wished they weren't. There were moments when he just wanted to tell them all to stay out of it because he didn't want anything to happen to them. He knew Mr. and Mrs. Weasley would be distraught if anything happened to any of their children and he wanted to spare them that pain. But he knew there was nothing he could've done to prevent them from getting involved. It wasn't his place to decide.

Then he thought about Ron. It was wrong of him to want the rest of the Weasley family not to be involved when he knew he'd be lying if he said he could've done it without Ron. Ron had been there every step of the way. Harry couldn't have asked for a better best friend. But he'd ruined it with Ron. It was his fault that the Weasleys lost Fred. There was no one to blame but himself. He sighed, shaking himself out of his stupor. He'd been through this too many times and he always came out with the same regretful and guilty conclusion.

Looking up at the house, he realized that it seemed very hollow and empty. It wasn't the first time he could relate to that. Hollow and empty. Today, he was feeling a different kind of emptiness. As he walked up the few steps leading to the house, another wave of dizziness passed through his head. He pressed himself against the fence and waited for it to pass. As he waited, he thought he saw flashes of images in his mind. They went by too fast for him to actually know what he was seeing. Then it stopped.

Harry quickly made his way to the door and stopped short. How was he going to get in? From the earlier incident, he learned that his wandless magic didn't work. He knew that something was seriously wrong when he raised his hand and nothing happened to the smoky figure. He didn't have his wand either.

Maybe someone was home.

With that in mind, Harry raised his fist to knock and before he could recall what happened at the pub, it was too late to retract his fist. Harry ended up falling forward through the door (it reminded him of platform 9 ¾) and he caught himself before he came crashing to the ground.

The first thing he noticed upon entering was the state of the house. All in all, it was too... neat. Their house had never been neat, except for Remus and his room. With Sirius in the house, it was almost impossible to maintain an organized living room. As he wondered around the house further, Harry had a sinking feeling that things were only going to get worse.

Thirty minutes later, Harry had gone through all the rooms. He found that Remus' room was empty. There was nothing there. It was as if he'd moved out, but that was impossible. He would've known. Remus would've said something. Then there was Sirius' room. There were things all over the room. He didn't know what had happened, but it seemed that every breakable item had been thrown violently against the wall. Pieces of glass were all over and he didn't know what to think of that.

His room, on the other hand, was the same as he last saw it.

Where did they go? He couldn't help but begin to worry about Sirius and Remus. One of them should've been home. It had been the most confusing and horrible day. He kept falling through solid wood, the house was empty, his wand was missing, his powers weren't working, and he kept getting dizzy spells.

In addition, the thought that something had caused him to misplace a memory was enough of a mystery to raise his already alarmingly high stress level. He was sure that if Sirius and Remus were here, they would've been able to help him, but as luck would have it, they were nowhere to be seen. He felt terrible and he didn't want to think anymore. Something was very wrong and he needed to figure out what.

Something that girl in the pub said kept echoing over and over in his head and no matter what he did, he couldn't stop thinking about it. Harry couldn't believe that he was even considering all that she told him. Some twisted part of him thought that she could actually be telling the truth.

A truth that was beyond his comprehension.

A truth that was beyond his acceptance.

"You're dead."