"HARRY! Ron, he's here."
"Let him breathe, Hermione," Ron grinningly said to the girl, who tried to hug Harry with such force that he could barely avoid falling to the ground. Hermione started to bombard him with questions.
"Oh shit Harry, is that a snake?" Ron interjected, his blue eyes wide.
Harry used this little breather to look at Ron and Hermione. While they technically still were the same people, those two weren't the friends he knew. A part of him was still angry with them, the memories of useless letters echoing through his mind while another part compared them to the Ron and Hermione they would probably never end up being. A headache was building behind his temples and Harry forced himself to focus on the present. It was exhausting to keep track of his emotions at all times. Just as he was contemplating what he could use as an excuse to get some air, something white flew down from the wardrobe and landed on his free shoulder.
Harry's eyes widened. He had almost forgotten about her...
"Hedwig!" Harry petted the white owl, who just ignored the snake wrapped around him and graciously turned her head. Death hissed. Harry smirked at their behaviour.
"She was acting really odd. Almost picked us dead, when she brought your last letters. Here look," Ron said and extended a hand and showed him a deep cut in his finger. It was just the opening that Harry needed.
"I'm sorry, but I am also not," Harry said after a moment, letting himself sink into his younger mindset, which was way better equipped to deal with this situation. It was like sliding into a hot bath at the end of the day. Still, Harry didn't feel the same connection to them as he probably had a few weeks ago. A faint memory of their relationship when he was older flashed up in the back of his mind, of Ron jokingly calling him his future brother in law.
It was odd to think of Ginny and him as a couple. He hadn't even kissed anyone at that point in time, although his memories told him something different. Embarrassment overpowered everything else when countless encounters with various witches and wizards rushed to the forefront of his mind. Harry couldn't keep the blood from flushing up his skin. He hadn't even been aware that men were an option too.
Harry swallowed and focused on what laid in front of him. He remembered this summer and Voldemort's resurrection vividly and how much he had hated the past few weeks. While his anger now was only an echo of his former frustration it was probably best to not pretend that this hadn't happened.
"I was left, rotting in Privet Drive for weeks," he said coldly. Hermione and Ron paled. This seemed to scare them even more, than if he had been screaming and a part of Harry found himself amused. "I didn't expect much from Dumbledore. Did he really think, that I wouldn't notice being followed?" Nobody said a word. "But you guys... I expected more of you-"
Somehow this turned more into a stern scolding than an angry shouting match.
"Harry we are sorry, we wanted to tell you something, really... but Dumbledore let us swear-" Hermione interrupted him.
"Oh, Dumbledore yes..." Harry let the words roll from his tongue. The flashes of future knowledge added a whole new layer to this summer's memories. While his past emotions seemed to no longer carry the same weight, Harry apparently still possessed the ability to get angry by simply reviewing some events from his current perspective. "I get kidnapped in a supposedly safe environment, which leads to Voldemort's resurrection, see how Cedric gets killed and Dumbledore simply parks me at Privet Drive with not a word of encouragement. Nobody even mentioned a thing that was going on... Dumbledore let you swear, yes. But there are ways to contact me, other than letters or do you think Voldemort monitors my phone calls now?" Harry asked pointedly. With a casual motion, he sent Hedwig back onto the wardrobe, "I understand why you did what you did... but you have to admit that this was messed up."
"Harry!" Hermione exclaimed after a shocked pause, but Harry shook his head.
"I don't think-"
"We can explain, what's been going on. Really mate, we didn't mean to keep anything from you," Ron interfered.
"Exactly!" Hermione added as she saw that Harry paused. He contemplated it. It couldn't hurt to brush up on what was going on.
"Alright," Harry said. "Tell me everything."
Twenty minutes later, Harry was sitting on the edge of a bed, facing Ron and Hermione who had finally had finished their whole story. They stared at him with twin expressions dominated by a mix of concern and hopeful anticipation. Harry had barely spoken a word during their speech.
"I think I need some time to think this over," he finally stated out loud.
"Sure, mate," Ron said while Hermione simultaneously began with, "We could-" She paused and threw Ron a questioning look. Harry stood up.
"I guess I'll see you when dinner is ready," Harry said and turned to leave the room. The last thing he heard before the door behind him fell shut was Ron saying, "He just needs some space, Mione...
Harry walked down the stairs, massaging his throbbing temples. It was exhausting to deal with so much new information. Besides, it was better if he kept his distance for a while.
He was just reaching the hallway of the first floor when Kreacher walked past him. The elf stopped and looked at Harry strangely. When Harry stared back the house-elf turned and walked away. "Huh what was that about?" he wondered out loud.
"You once owned this house. The magic inside these walls still recognizes you as a Black, so does his," Death said. Harry perked up fascinated. Magic apparently always managed to surprise him.
"Do you think he would obey me?" Harry asked curiously.
"Perhaps, but he is bound to another Master."
"Sirius," Harry muttered, thoughts coursing through his mind till he had reached the entrance hall. He suddenly realized that the portraits on the walls had started to whisper.
"A parselmouth?"
"-old line of Slytherin-"
"-here in the ancient house of Black-"
"-honoured, dark Wizard-"
"-a Black?"
Harry hadn't even noticed that he had slipped into the infamous language. He could only pick up on bits and pieces of the portraits' conversations. Their inhabitants ogled him curiously.
All of a sudden, he didn't know what to do. He didn't know which rooms were occupied and he wasn't in the mood to try and listen into the Order's meeting. Somewhat lost, Harry sat down on the lower steps of the staircase, exhaustion taking hold of him. His headache prevailed and the silence was a welcome distraction.
Unconsciously, he started to pet the scales of Deaths reptile form, when suddenly the weight turned into dark fog and the snake vanished from his shoulders. Harry watched fascinated how it materialized again and there was Death, back in his familiar form - the eerie version of Harry himself.
Death sat down next to him and this caught Harry's attention. He could swear that Death had made himself a bit taller. Perhaps it was just the fact that he had chosen to sit down on a step above Harry's... Harry hummed thoughtfully. Maybe both, he decided.
"What are you going to do, now that you are here?" Death asked after a while. He sat eerily still.
"I don't know. Prevent the deaths of Remus, Tonks, Fred and Sirius, I think... Probably." He looked at his bony hands. It was a good question. "Try to not get bored again?" Harry added after a few moments. "Not biding to the wishes of one side if a more interesting opportunity presents itself. It depends, I guess..." He paused for a moment, his mind lingering on the previous question before he raised his head and looked at Death."You don't have to stick with me all the time, you know."
The creature looked at Harry before it slowly reached out with its hand. The creature seemed curious about its own actions and Harry froze when the hand made contact with his scalp. Carefully Death started to comb his fingers through Harry's hair. The creature seemed surprisingly caught up in this motion, completely focused once it had begun. Its eyes flicked towards Harry. Be he didn't know what to think of it either and yet he slowly he relaxed into the touch.
His headache bled like poison from an open wound and he fought the urge to lean into it.
"Maybe not as a snake," Death announced in its inhuman voice, surprisingly gentle and Harry blinked lazily as his mind was pulled from the relaxed state he had found himself in. Death was awkward in his movements, his behaviour. Like a deer taking its first steps. Despite the creatures oddness - perhaps just because of it - Harry couldn't help but smile.
He felt an odd flutter in his stomach, which he couldn't place but suddenly there were steps in the distance and Death vanished without a trace.
A moment later the door at the other side of the room opened. Apparently, the meeting was over and people started to populate the entrance hall. Many of them unashamedly stared at Harry as they walked past him, curious eyes looking him up and down. A few of them nodded in acknowledgement before they left - Harry liked those better - others lingered and talked in hushed voices as to not disturb the portraits' slumber.
Then, Harry spotted Snape.
The man had died at the battle and it was - not quite a shock - to see him alive but interesting nonetheless.
The energy surrounding him was just as unique as everyone else' Harry had seen so far. There were no playful swirls, no rough spikes to his magic. Just even layers, tightly stacked and all moving in different directions in a nearly hypnotic way. It almost seemed like his aura was split into various planes, every one opaque and only together they resulted in the dark swirls that slowly moved around his body.
There was the echo of resentment as well as respect that Harry felt for the man. His clashing memories made it hard to place him.
He may have been an asshole during the time Harry had known him, but he couldn't deny that he owed Snape his life. A future version of him at least.
How the man had been able to survive as long as he had was impressive. Snape had managed to walk the narrow line between life and death as a spy. Even Voldemort hadn't known of Severus' betrayal.
Sometimes Harry had thought, that not even Dumbledore knew where the loyalties of the man really resided. Was it Harry's dead mother?
What was his motivation? Love, a wish for revenge or simply his own sense of good and bad? If there had been another alternative to Dumbledore, would Snape have still chosen the path he was walking now?
Snape was a mystery and Harry put his chin on his folded hands as he watched the man closely. It would be interesting where his path would lead if he made some different decisions.
His former Professor snorted derogatorily when he spotted Harry on the stairs and rushed past him, black robe billowing as if this whole thing was beneath him.
Harry sighed. All fascination aside, there was still the factor that Snape wasn't very fond of him with which he'd have to deal.
The corners of Harry's mouth twitched with amusement. At least, he wouldn't have problems with potions anymore. The studying his twenty-four-year-old self had done was certainly an advantage.
In the end, only Remus, Tonks and Mrs Weasley remained in the entrance hall. Tonks and Remus locked the door magically, while Mrs Weasley approached Harry.
"Harry, dear. Would you mind calling the others? The meeting is over and dinner is ready," she whispered, "Fred and George should be a floor above your and Ron's room." Harry nodded and was about to turn around when he heard a loud 'clonk'.
Tonks had knocked over the umbrella stand.
With a bang, the curtains of Mrs Blacks portraits opened, and the screaming began.
Tonks apologized over and over again, but the curses of Mrs Black were just too loud, for her to be heard. "I'm so sorry- "
"MUDBLOODS! SCUM!"
"-the second time I fall over this-"
Mrs Weasley hurried out of the room, down the cellar, most likely looking for help.
"FILTH-"
Tonks clumsily picked up the umbrella stand.
"-so sorry"
"-SULLYING THE HOUSE OF MY ANCESTORS!"
When Harry had moved to live in Grimmauld Place, Mrs Black had been the same screaming bitch she had always been. Even when Kreacher obeyed him, she would still scream and shout as if she was being tortured when some"mudblood" dared to cross the Hall.
Harry had looked for a way to remove the portrait. He had searched the Black library for weeks. There were curses over curses, but not one could have helped him with that task. He had even read the dry tomes, which told about pureblood education and behaviour, only because there were notes written inside by some family member of the Blacks.
But apart from a few spells for sealing marriages, binding contracts and some curses to 'properly discipline' a misbehaving child, he found nothing. He had given up after reading "Lord's and Ladies of noble blood - the proper representation of the family" for the third time.
Harry didn't trust himself with using fiendfire to just destroy the damn thing, so he begrudgingly accepted that he had to live with it.
But one day - during one of her screaming sessions - Harry had remembered that Kreacher had talked to the portrait, even received some orders. She had to be able to act normal. Maybe he would be able to persuade Mrs Black to stop by simply talking to her.
To his immense surprise, it had worked. Maybe not in the way he had imagined, but after that very incident, her screaming had been reduced to occasionally quiet grumbling and well-chosen insults. But right now, she was still shouting and very loudly so. The pain in Harry's temples acted up once more. He gritted his teeth in frustration.
And so when she was proceeding to scream, "WORTHLESS BASTARDS! HALFBLOODS! FREAKS-" Harry stood up and turned to face the annoying witch.
"PATHETIC!" Harry shouted back at her. Surprised she shut up, when he treated her with the same courtesy she granted them. "SHAME ON YOU! YOU ARE A DISGRACE FOR THE HOUSE OF BLACK! SCREAMING LIKE SOME WITCH WHO DOESN'T KNOW HOW TO BEHAVE HERSELF! YOU COULD AS WELL BE THE SPAWN OF A MUGGLE!" Still standing on the stairs, it was easy for Harry to look down at her. A treatment she didn't at all appreciate.
"HOW DARE YOU-" she roared, but Harry cut her off.
"I?! HOW DARE I!? HOW DARE YOU DISRESPECT THE HEIR OF YOUR HOUSE BY EMBARASSING HIM IN FRONT OF HIS GUESTS! HOW FAR THE HOUSE OF BLACK HAS FALLEN BY CALLING YOU ONE OF THEIR OWN! HAVE YOU FORGOTTEN YOUR EDUCATION JUST BECAUSE YOU ARE NOW A PORTRAIT?! YOU ARE NO LONGER THE HEAD OF THE HOUSE! IT IS NOT YOUR BUSINESS WHO ENTERS ANYMORE! KNOW YOUR PLACE, WITCH!" he finished.
Everyone stared at him.
Harry's heavy breathing was the only sound disturbing the silence.
Walburga Black had left her frame, dark space empty and the other portraits seemed embarrassed enough. She would probably return, but right now it should be enough.
Silence at last. With a small satisfied smirk, Harry walked down the remainder of the stairs.
Remus stared at Harry, seemingly too shocked to do anything and Tonks' mouth stood wide open.
A movement in the corner of his eye caught Harry's attention and when he turned, he found himself face to face with a baffled Sirius Black.
"I- I don't know what to say, really," Sirius said, half shocked half grinning. "I guess I should've brought you here years ago."
Harry's mind was blank. He could only look at the godfather who suddenly seemed so much younger. While being an Auror, Harry had formed loose friendships with colleagues older than Sirius. It was surreal to see him standing in front of him. On the one hand, there was the part of Harry, who viewed Sirius as a father figure while another tried to match blurry memories of a deadly veil to the man he was facing. The confusing personalities in his mind clashed once more and since focusing on the present instead of trying to match memories to people had turned out to be a good coping mechanism so far, Harry proceeded to do just that.
Which turned out to bring forth another revelation. Just like Remus, Sirius appeared younger to Harry, but Sirius, he was - well - handsome. He was skinny and unhealthy looking, probably because of the years in Azkaban, but Harry could see the attractive person he'd once been. Even now the ruggedness didn't lessen his appeal and the smirk on Sirius' face could almost be described as mischievous.
"How about 'Hi'," Harry said, grinning widely. Somehow it was easier now to ignore the part within him that wanted to be embarrassed by the sexual notions that an older part of Harry was able to reconcile with this man in front of him, but a slight blush still crept up his collar. Perhaps Death was right. The lines really started to blur.
Sirius threw his head back and laughed. His dark hair fell graciously onto his shoulders. "Yes, that would certainly be a start," he chuckled, his dark eyes shining with mirth, "Hello Harry," he said and suddenly Harry found himself engulfed by two sinewy arms, a musky scent of sweat, dust and alcohol wafting into his nose as Sirius pulled him into a hug.
It wasn't ...unpleasant.
Harry petted his godfather's bony back when he could feel Death's dark presence spike abruptly. Like the scent of a poisonous flower, it permeated the room. Dark and ominous, sickly sweet with an icy coldness spreading over the walls. Harry felt an incisive emotion prickling in his chest and he pulled back with a sharp inhale.
Harry caught himself before he could rub his chest on instinct, the sensation of the foreign emotion so physical that he'd wanted to soothe the ache from the outside. The others stood, not quite knowing what had happened, confused about their unease even though Death's presence had shrunk down to a looming darkness in one of the corners.
Harry's eyes found said corner and with a glare that hopefully conveyed the meaning of, "What the hell has this been about?!" and "We will talk about this!", he reduced the presence to a faint shadow, though he was meticulously aware of the heavy feeling weighing in his stomach, that wasn't his own.
Sirius cleared his throat and Harry's head snapped back to his godfather.
The magical aura of the others had shrunk, pulling tightly around their bodies as if to hide from the creature, they had felt lurking there just a moment prior.
It also caused Harry, for the first time, to pay close attention to Sirius' aura. It was still fascinating and Harry asked himself if there existed something comparable to the ability that he had developed. Hadn't Dumbledore once said that every piece of magic left a trace? But the old headmaster had never mentioned that it was something visible, nor that it stuck to people just as strong.
Sirius' magic was dark, just like Remus'. But where Remus was subtly lurking - perfectly controlled, Sirius' magic had a crazy edge to it. It was wild and untamed like a storm. Its swirls were moving in unpredictable patterns and curiously seemed to poke everything in its reach.
But something seemed to be wrong with it. The edges of his energy were frayed, strands of it bleeding into the surroundings as if it was just leaking out. Harry frowned. Magic shouldn't just disappear. It could be locked in, sure. Concentrated in spells, which used their energy to turn stuff. He threw a look at where he guessed Death was still hiding, but this time he wasn't so certain that it was the being causing this drain. He looked around the room, eyes scanning the furniture till suddenly something clicked. It wasn't just one thing, the whole room seemed to absorb the magic! But why?
Sirius meanwhile, had regained his causal confidence and a smirk had once more appeared on his face. This whole moment had passed within only a few seconds so it wasn't surprising that it was easily dismissed.
"Come on, let's go downstairs before she comes back," he said and nodded towards the painting of his mother, indicating the empty space which was usually occupied by Mrs Black. Sirius took Harry by the shoulder and led him towards the door to the cellar. Harry ignored the needles prickling in his guts as he followed after his godfather, while Death's presence crawled along like a spidery sea urchin. Remus quickly caught up to them, while Tonks hurried to match his long steps. Her hair had regained some of the vibrancy it had lost earlier.
But Harry paid no mind to them. He was too caught up in trying to understand why the house seemed to drain Sirius' energy. His eyes scanned over the mouldy wallpaper as the frayed edges of the man's magic bled into the pulsing walls.
"I know it's not the prettiest house," his godfather said, misinterpreting Harry's thoughtful expression. "I'd rather stay anywhere else either..." Harry slowed down his walk as they approached the door at the other side of the hall.
"I was just wondering", Harry said, "If the magic of a person can be connected to a house." Sirius looked at him surprised.
"Mhm, many old families have tied their magic to places. Though it's not really common anymore. Dark bloody stuff, if you know what I mean." Sirius stopped and his eyes wandered over the walls. "It can last a few decades..."
"That's actually quite interesting," Remus suddenly interjected. "How are things in your case? Are you connected to the house?"
His amber eyes shone with curiosity and Tonks tried to squeeze past his shoulder to also take part in the conversation.
Sirius turned around to face them, pushing his hands into the pockets of his worn jeans. He shrugged...
"I guess. It's been a while since I thought about it. Family history - boring as fuck if you'd asked me." A grin appeared on Sirius' face and his eyes took on a distant glow. "Skipped those lessons more than once. The thrashings I got afterwards though..." He shook his head and then his eyes fixated Remus." But overall it was worth it. I'd never discovered the club down in Oxford Street otherwise." Something flashed over Lupins face and Sirius grin widened, the laugh lines under his eyes accentuating his mirthful expression. "You know," Sirius drawled, "That former cinema, where you tried to pierce your-"
"Alright," Remus cut him off and raised his hands, "That is enough storytelling for today!"
"You can't just leave us hanging there!" Tonks intercepted and Sirius watched amused how Remus squirmed under her look. "What did he try to pierce?" Tonks insisted and with a smirk, Harry jumped to her aid. "Yeah," he said while he threw Lupin an equally amused look, "Tell us!"
Sirius already opened his mouth but Remus jumped to get ahead of him. "Sirius, I was his professor! At least let me leave this situation with some dignity. Harry is fifteen, for god's sake."
"You weren't much much older-"
"Sirius!"
"Fine." Sirius rolled his eyes. Tonks was bouncing on her feet, brimming with curiosity.
"Why don't we get back to our previous topic?" Remus asked and Sirius sighed but complied.
"If I remember correctly I'm probably holding the wards since I'm the head of the house. There are some spells I could probably reactivate, which would alert me of intruders, but it's probably a kind of magic Dumbledore wouldn't be very appreciative of and how I've heard it's also not too pleasant. Besides, who knows if those spells still work after all that time...."
"But that's impressive defensive magic," Lupin continued. "Is there a conduit leading from the outer walls to the holder or how does it work?"
"I don't know. I only remember that it's more of a system of spells. They are locked into the walls in a way. Perhaps I should've paid more attention to that part." Sirius jerked his head towards his mother's painting. "Who knows if I could've gotten rid of that thing by now if I had."
Remus was turning to look at the walls, his hands sliding over the old wallpaper. "You don't mind, do you?" he asked Sirius over his shoulder. He shook his head.
"Nah."
Harry joined the werewolf in his endeavour. He closed his eyes, and let his fingers run over the surface again. The magic sang beneath his fingertips.
"HE pierced WHAT? With a safety pin?!" Tonk's voice pulled Harry out of his task and just like Remus he turned around. Apparently, Sirius and the metamorphmagus had resumed the earlier conversation.
Sirius raised his hands in defence. "You didn't say that I couldn't tell her."
Remus pinched his nose with a sigh. After a moment he fixated Tonks with a deadpan look. "It didn't stay in. It bled like hell. And it earned me a night of free drinks. Can we declare this matter finished now?"
Tonks stared at him with wide eyes before she shook her head and a slow smirk appeared on her face. "That's all I wanted to know," she announced. "Actually, I'm impressed, Remus. There's a whole other side to you, apparently."
Suddenly Harry could see how Sirius and she were related.
"Oh yeah," his godfather added in the same tone of voice. "Moony over here was a real punk. You know, one time-"
"I suggest you shut up, Sirius. I know more embarrassing stories to tell about you than anyone else, believe me."
"See," Sirius said, nudging Tonks' shoulder, "Openly blackmailing me in front of you guys. Like a true rebel."
Remus sighed and simply turned around. Harry shared an amused look with Sirius, whose attention was soon demanded by his cousin who whispered another question into his ear, so Harry turned once more to watch Remus, who was inspecting the wall, murmuring spells as he tapped it with his wand.
Harry observed him for another second before he turned his attention to the pulsing wards that pulled on Sirius' magic.
There was the fidelius spell, Dumbledores protections which hummed continuously, like a thin blanket covering what laid beneath. And that was what Harry was interested in. This network of spells, interwoven like the roots of a tree, running through the house like veins.
He vaguely noticed Death's presence approaching as reached out to shift through the different layers of protection. Harry ignored the feeling in the back of his head which told him to just let it go. It was a suggestive nudge of emotions shoved towards him and yet nothing like the Horcrux which had dominated his mind for so long. But the topic at hand was way too fascinating to just leave alone.
Blood magic was fickle. Harry didn't know much about it, nothing more than the everyday Auror was taught during their training.
He pressed his whole palm against the cracking wallpaper, fascinated how he was sensing the individual offshoots branching through the masonry, floors and doors. It shouldn't have been possible and yet... They brushed against him, not his body but his energy. His own aura of which he only now grew conscious of. Like strands of seaweed, they lazily touched him as he inspected them.
Harry hummed thoughtfully. If the Black's had really tied their protection to the blood...
Wards that were made to last needed to be grounded. Preferably through runes, Bill had told him once. It was how many ancient wizarding societies had protected their tombs. But without it, they would bleed out. Not unlike they now bled out Sirius' magic.
Then Harry found the wards he had been sensing from the beginning. The most insistent ones, hungrily asking for attention.
In hindsight that should have been his first warning. The second one, when Death's presence spiked as he reached out to poke one of the wards which felt like a swampy forest.
It clicked in Harry's brain. Nobody had lived in this house for years. They had been slowly rotting away with nothing anchoring them. The wards were trying to restore themselves and it worked. Slowly but it did. They were feeding on the energy of the one they were connected to.
Satisfied Harry tried to pull back to question Sirius if he knew more about this topic, but he suddenly found that he wasn't able to.
His hands didn't leave the wall. It was as if a sticking spell hat glued them together.
"Um, a little help here," Harry said over his shoulder. He felt an odd sensation like something was tugging on his insides. Angrily he gritted his teeth. Like leeches, the wards had attached themselves to his magic and he had been stupid enough to enable them. It began to hurt. Needles seemed to enter through his palm, travelling through his arm when he tried to pull back with more force.
Remus stopped and looked at him in confusion, as did the others.
Meanwhile, Harry began to feel a little lightheaded and he tried to shake it off. "I'm stuck," he pressed out between gritted teeth. The suction of the wards turned more insistent and anger was slowly replaced by fear.
"What..." Lupin began but he trailed off.
A worried expression appeared on Sirius' face and he took a few steps towards him, Tonks right behind him.
Stars were dancing in front of Harry's eyes now exhaustion spread through all of his limbs. "Merlin help us," Remus said. His voice sounded as if he was underwater. With heavy lids, Harry followed Lupins amber gaze and was met with the sight of his own hands slowly sinking into the wall, black tendrils like tar climbing up his veins, already covering his fingertips.
Hot pain was now coursing through his body. His insides were turned outwards and Harry felt his muscles spasm in a useless attempt to keep whatever was sucked out of him within. His legs grew weak. Fire was licking up his veins. Then Death's presence surrounded him like a heavy blanket, muffling the pain and his fear slowly bled out of him. It was oddly comforting.
Harry forced himself to take a rattling breath.
"I'm here Harry..." A hoarse voice whispered into his ear. "Don't be afraid..."
His vision went dark.
Then nothing.
"Do you feel it?" Death's voice echoed within his mind. It was everywhere, the presence engulfing him, deep and dark like an ocean. And was it dark, wasn't it? He didn't know.
Ice could burn like fire too if it just got cold enough. Pure and alluring it flooded through his body, promising sweet sleep and peace like the sweetest poison. And then icy like a blade, so sharp you didn't even feel it enter till it was too late. Inconceivable in all its might. He felt a space within him being taken up by it. Death was everywhere, there was no end and no beginning. No saying where he began and it ended. Harry was drowning and yet he ached to sink deeper. It was beautiful and horrific and he revelled in it.
Then, his heart started beating again, and his magic returned, slithering lazily and unfamiliar, coating him like a new layer of skin.
Harry's lungs burned. He sat up in one go as he eagerly sucked in the air which turned into a coughing fit. It was as if his body had been hit by a freight car. He breathed and breathed and yet it felt like he didn't get enough air. Something was missing. He felt empty and the tears building in his eyes were no longer only caused by his irregular expansion of lungs. Without his conscious approval, his hands dug themselves into his chest, clenching around the worn fabric of his shirt, feeling only skin where he was so sure something had been ripped out of him. His fingers began to tingle.
Harry gasped for air.
With unseeing eyes he stared into nothingness, a horrible feeling of loss dominating his mind. Dust particles danced in front of him and the blurry shape of his own old sneakers on a colourless carpet took shape. He blinked and the image of black feathers in a white train station flashed behind his lids. And when he opened them again, his eyes were immediately drawn to the black snake curled up next to his thigh. Before he even noticed what he was doing, Harry reached for the creature and relief flooded through him, the ache in his chest receding even though he could still feel where he had dug his nails into his skin.
Only then he realized that he was sitting in the middle of the entrance hall, looked down upon by the worried faces of Remus, Sirius and Tonks.