Last Mistake

Chapter four - Search for Reality

In the distant sky, a bright majestic shadow of white could be seen. As it moved closer and closer to the castle, the growing proximity and the sunlight gave way to the frame of a pair of fluttering wings.

The Defense Against the Dark Art professor was currently preoccupied with the Gryffindor and Slytherin sixth year's assignment. It was an essay on Gredahye, a fire demon, and the effects of their flame.

A familiar snowy white owl flew through his open window, landing right over the paper he was grading. Remus wasn't fazed by the interruption as his werewolf senses warned him long ago of the owl's impending arrival. It also helped that Hedwig's dinnertime visits have become a regular routine to Remus.

With the intention to shoo the creature off his papers, Remus waved his hand to push it away. That earned him an indignant hoot and a painful peck on his hand.

"I only had one more to look over and you couldn't just spare me a minute?" asked Remus, rubbing the sore red mark.

The owl, to Remus' amazement, pulled off a condescending scowl on him.

"I think I know now why Harry once threw your cage out the window," said Remus.

Hedwig seemed to glare at him with her large round eyes.

Remus smiled slightly at remembering that incident. Harry had an argument with the Minister of Magic in a meeting that day. Quite frankly, Harry wasn't in a very good mood to begin with since he was 'requested' (meaning forced) to attend a meeting with the Minister when it was clear that neither saw eye to eye on the subject of Voldemort. Since he couldn't explode all his anger on the Minister, the fury was bottled up inside for a full evening. Needless to say, Harry didn't react well to Hedwig's haughty attitude that day and as a result, his owl became temporarily homeless.

Remus turned to look at Harry's longtime pet and more importantly friend. He found it odd that the owl didn't appear to be any different after her owner's death. But then again, he could be reading the owl's demeanor wrong. He was, after all, the Defense Against the Dark Arts professor, not the Care of Magical Creatures professor.

The beautiful white owl's hoot broke the silence and her head was now facing the trunk next to Remus' desk.

"Yes, that's Harry's trunk."

Recalling the meeting with Dumbledore earlier, Remus was surprised and confused when he was told that Harry had asked for his trunk to be left in his possession. Remus assumed that it would only be a temporary arrangement since the trunk and the contents within in are locked shut inside. No one had been able to unlock it. He knew since he himself has given it a try. Even Dumbledore, with his power and vast knowledge, couldn't open it. Remus was sure there was an underlying reason for that.

In addition, Dumbledore bestowed on him the responsibility of fulfilling one of the instructions on Harry's will. Apparently, he was the only link between the wizarding world and Sirius Black.

Harry had divided the money in his vault to be given to the Weasleys, Hermione, and Sirius, but Gringotts couldn't reach Sirius (big surprise there). Therefore, they contacted Dumbledore who was responsible for overseeing the completion of the instructions on the will. And now Dumbledore left that task to him.

Unexpectedly, Remus' stomach growled in hunger and he decided to heed its advice. He'd have to look over the will again in the morning to make sure he sends the right items. Remus wasn't sure how Sirius would react to receiving Harry's belongings instead of just expecting a letter from him.

'Well, he'll find out soon enough.'

"Come on, Hedwig. We'll get some supper from the kitchen."

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Sirius,

We are getting closer and closer to Voldemort's headquarter, but I've lost almost half of my men. I don't want to assume the outcome now. Either way, we're at the point of no return. If we back down now, we'll lose the progress that we've made. I'm doing what I can. Just hold off on your end. I'll contact you when I get the chance.

Harry

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Mom,

I'm all right. Our plans have been successful thus far. We lost about fifty men altogether this week. It's been hard to witness the growing number of deaths. I know it's even worst for Harry, even though he acts like it's nothing. Granted, fifty men a week is less than the causality numbers that we had before, but even one life is too great of a lost. I don't know what to do. He's growing more distant and detached. I'm afraid if Ron and I don't do anything soon, we'll lose him completely. If you have any advice, pass it on.

Love,

Hermione

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Mum,

Sorry for not writing sooner, but I'm sure you understand. All five of us are not in any life-threatening condition. Although Bill was hit by a pretty nasty spell, he'll be fine in a week or so. Relax mum, we're all being very careful. Merlin knows you're telling us that enough. I can't disclose much information in this letter, but you can ask dad. Oh and before I forget, tell Ginny that she's not off the hook yet. Fred and George are already considering which products to use on Ginny's boyfriend if they find that he's not good enough for her. Don't know where they find the time to...but you know them. Personally, I want to meet him myself. Oh bloody hell, sorry for the language mum, but I really have to end this letter here.

Love,

Ron

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Harry,

Don't worry about my end; I've got it under control. Now let's talk about you. Someone tells me that you've been putting more stress on yourself than you need to. Harry, don't act like you need to do everything. There are others there to help you. LET THEM. I'm sure that Ron and Hermione aren't the only ones that you can trust. I know it's important that we stay alert and cautious, but if you overwork your limits, you will hurt more than help. I hope you listen to this...as stubborn as you are. I'll see you in Transylvania.

Sirius

P.S. Take care of yourself, Harry.

Harry dropped the letter on the floor as it automatically burst into flame, leaving no trace of it behind. He was sick of everyone looking after him. Especially Mad-Eye Moody. He had Dumbledore to thank for that. They were at war and he had a personal bodyguard. If they thought so little of his abilities, they shouldn't have given him the leadership role. But for the sake of everyone, he'll put up with it for now.

"Come in," he called at the knock.

Ron Weasley came in through the door, his expression grim.

"Just wanted to let you know that we've cleaned up the streets and sent all those that could be identified back to their families," said Ron in a monotone voice.

They'd arrived at an abandoned city yesterday. The sight sickened him. The destruction and damage that they found were despicable. After weeks of fighting, many couldn't handle seeing the condition of the once lively city. There were bodies all around, bloodied, bruised, burned, and dead. Many were too mangled and disfigured to be recognized. As the war continued, the Death Eater's methods of murder have become more brutal and inhumane.

Death was no longer the fear of the people. It was the torturous journey to death that scared them.

What he wouldn't give to end it today. Soon. Tomorrow.

But whenever others look to him for answers, he couldn't give them anything definite. He didn't know how long this would last. He didn't know how long his men would last before they break down and give up.

There was only one thing he was certain of. And that is the fact that he will fight till to the end. Till his end. That is a promise that he will never break. And he told all those fighting for their families, for their world, for their life that he vow keep his word no matter how hopeless the times are.

He turned to face his best friend for the longest time. The times have weighted down on everyone's morale and health. Ron was no exception. And he couldn't say that he was any better off either.

"How many?" Harry asked, routinely, his voice detached.

"The entire town," Ron replied quietly.

"Where are the rest staying?" Harry inquired.

"At the pub. It's the only other place beside this museum that's not in complete ruins."

"Hermione?"

"Well, we're in a museum," said Ron, as if it should have been obvious.

Harry nodded slightly, understanding.

"I'll cast an anti-detection spell to last us the night. No one is to go beyond the limits of the city because that is where I'll end the spell. Tell everyone to rest up. We have a long day ahead of us."

"I'll let everyone know," Ron replied.

Harry turned back around at his makeshift desk, thinking that that was the end of their conversation, though he wouldn't exactly call it one. He turned back around after realizing that Ron had no intention of leaving yet.

"Something you want, Ron?" Harry asked, obviously sensing what his friend wanted.

"Can we talk?"

"We did talk, Ron."

"You know what I mean, Harry."

"No...I don't. I'm very busy here, Ron and I'm sure there are plenty of things you have on your hands as well. So, if you don't mind, I'd like to not waste precious time," said Harry.

"Would you just listen to me for once?" said Ron, clearly frustrated, but managing to stay calm.

"I am listening," said Harry, ignorant of Ron's frustration.

Ron sighed, knowing that this was the best he was going to get out of Harry.

"Has Sirius written to you?"

"He has and he's doing fine. Anything else you'd like to ask?"

"Are you ever going to drop this bloody façade you've put on?"

"And what does that mean, Ron?" Harry replied, his voice unchanging and his face showing nothing of his emotions.

"Stop twisting the questions back on me! Do you know what Hermione is doing right this moment?"

"Haven't we gone over this? What else would she be doing in a museum?"

"I lied, alright? Hermione's sitting in the exhibit's room and she's not doing what you think she is. She's bloody crying her eyes out!"

"I told her that if she missed her mom, she didn't have to be here. I can find a way to arrange her back now that we've clear the roads."

"You are such a-! She's not crying because of that. She's crying because of you!"

"This isn't the first time, Ron. There's nothing I can do if she's worried for when I have to face Voldemort," said Harry, tired of the conversation. "I'll go down and talk to her if you want, but I've tried and it didn't work before. And I'm not sure it'll work now."

"This is exactly why she's crying! The way you're acting is killing her. Are you really that blind, Harry?!"

"I said I'll go down and talk to her," said Harry, heading for the exit.

Ron grabbed Harry by the robe before he could leave.

"Oh no you're not! You'll just upset her more."

"Then what the hell do you want me to do? Tell me, because I have no idea!" Harry exclaimed, his voice beginning to rise.

"I'll tell you," said Ron, in this odd voice. "Stop this! You're not acting like yourself. You're getting further and further away from everyone, including Hermione and me. Stop isolating yourself! This war is important, but you've made it your war. Well, it's not! It's our war."

Ron was breathing heavily by now. He was tired of shouting.

"We don't want to lose you before you even get to face...Voldemort," Ron said, quietly.

Harry looked at him with the same expression he had on during the entire conversation. Ron thought maybe he had gotten to him, even for a little bit. Apparently, that wasn't the case.

"It's late. We should both get some rest. Say goodnight to Hermione for me."

----------

Harry shook himself out of his daydream. How could he dream at a time like this? Did the memory he relived mean anything? Looking around, he realized that he was still in his house. What he didn't realize was that there was someone else there other than himself.

"Ready to listen?" said the voice from the kitchen.

"No," Harry answered, leaning back against the sofa and closing his eyes.

"I know you don't want to listen to what I know-"

"Good. Then please leave," Harry interrupted.

He had a lot to think about. For one, he had to decide whether she's telling the truth or not. Second, can he trust this complete stranger? And third, what does he really believe?

There was no way he can think with her as his shadow. That's why she has to leave. Unfortunately, she isn't one of those that you can easily get rid of. So instead of forcefully kicking her out, Harry decided to save his energy by simply ignoring his unwanted guest. He then locked himself in his room until he can clear his mind of his chaotic thoughts.

----------

"Sorry for taking this long to come meet with you. I've been working like a stark raving slave over this new case."

"You're taking a big enough risk as it is."

"Hey, anything to help an old friend," the cloaked man replied.

"I suppose you haven't had time to work on it then?"

"I'll be honest with you Sirius, it's not going too well. Merlin knows I've done more than my fair share of investigating and speculating on this. The others around me have practically given up. They insist that it's only another insignificant Death Eater who's probably already been caught or will be soon."

"That's a bloody dumb speculation. Wasn't it suspicious to any of them that it wasn't a wand that did it?" said Sirius, clearly frustrated.

"Of course it was!" the cloaked man tried to reassure him. "But after all this time, none of us found any new leads and with this new case over our heads, some of them...are willing to overlook it, at least for the time being."

"So you only came to give me bad news," Sirius said, without a hint of conviction in his voice.

"I sorry if I haven't been of much help to you, but I've snuck a copy of the file. There might be something useful in there that you can use."

The cloaked figure discreetly pulled out a folder and pushed it across the table. Sirius took it and slipped it hastily into his robe.

"Your department is putting the investigation on hold for the 'vigilante' case," Sirius said, undoubtedly.

Under his hood, the man's face was one of disbelieve and surprise.

"How do you know about that case?" he asked.

"The killings were performed with a valuable metal blade made from an extinct type of mineral. The blade was put together by a magic that has long been lost to our generation."

It took a while for the man to find his voice, but when he did, his interest rose.

"Again, however did you find that out?"

"You forget sometimes what I used to do."

The cloaked man said nothing when he realized his mistake.

"You're probably not making much progress, but there's something you found recently that I need to know," said Sirius, seriously.

"I'm willing to help you out on Harry's case-" he began. Sirius' expression darkened. The cloaked man noticed but continued on. "-but this is a whole another thing that I can't let you meddle with...despite what you already managed to find out."

"One question. That's all I want."

"What does this have anything to do with-"

"I have a feeling that it's going to help me track down the one who killed my godson. If you really do want to help me, then answer my one question," said Sirius, his eyes glinting dangerously.

"Ask it. I'll see what I can tell you," the cloaked man answered begrudgingly.

"Give me the name of the blade."

"I can't tell you that."

"You mean you won't tell me," Sirius said, sedately.

"I can't," he repeated.

Sirius disregarded the apologetic expression on the man's face and stood up from his chair. Pulling out a few sickles and knuts, he put it on the table.

"Then I'll find out myself."

With his long black robe trailing behind him, Sirius walked out of the pub.

----------

For an entire afternoon, Harry was determined not to leave the confines of his room until he had some idea of what he was going to do. By the time the light in his room was overcome by darkness, Harry still hadn't move from his position on the bed. His room was also connected to a bathroom. There was only one thing he could do to clear his head now. A shower.

When he stood in front of the mirror, Harry found nothing strange about his appearance. He looked as he had always looked. Maybe this was a good sign. After stripping his clothes, he stepped into the shower.

It was ridicules that he felt apprehension about turning the water on. No, he hadn't forgotten the water glass incident at the pub. He swore he felt the water drip down his head that day, but he never felt the wetness. Was it just his morning disorientation? Or did he remember it incorrectly?

Deciding that there was only one way to find out, he turned the water on.

The water was cool...actually it was downright freezing, despite the fact that it was set to a very warm temperature. Harry practically leaped out of the shower. He felt as if snow had fallen on him. It was so cold that it felt like he was burning. One thing that puzzled him greatly was the fact that he was completely dry. Harry couldn't help the sinking feeling in his stomach at that revelation.

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Why did her charge have be such a pain in the arse? Maybe it was payback for the way she handled her last charge. She understood that Harry was going to need time to himself, but his situation is different from all others. Time is what he doesn't have. The faster he remembers his death, the easier it would be for her to convince him of the truth of her words.

Speaking of which, she better go check on him. From what she was told, he won't be safe here. Faster than apparation, she appeared in Harry's neat room. Just at that moment, Harry walked out of the bathroom, with nothing but a towel around his waist.

If Harry was surprised to see her in his room, he didn't show it. If she was surprised to see him half naked, she didn't show it. Harry ignored her instead and went to grab a t-shirt and pant from the closet. He turned his back on her and slipped his clothes on. Even though he didn't have eyes on the back of his head, he could sense that she was watching him... and that she didn't care.

"What are you doing in here?" Harry finally asked.

"Not to see you half naked, of course," she replied.

"Is that so?"

"Why don't you look at your reflection in the mirror?" she suggested.

Reluctantly, he did. What he saw was not what he expected. He was wearing the same clothes he had on before getting into the shower. On the corner, he could make out the same towel he was supposedly using hanging on a rack.

"Now you see...I never saw you half naked."