The End of the War: Part Five

Warning!  This story does not currently, but will eventually, contain yaoi/slash pairings.  This means male/male.  This story will also eventually contain eroticism, please pay attention to the age when reading.    On a further note, the pairings are going to be Snape/Harry possibly some Draco/Harry.  If any of this does not interest you, please do not even bother reading.  Also, there are likely spoilers, as I have read the first 6 books, and that is reflected in my stories.  You’ve been told, if you’re still here, enjoy.

These characters don't belong to me, more's the pity, they belong to J.K. Rowling, lucky her.


The End of the War
Part Five: Decisions

I stared at the paper in front of me.  It said nothing to me.  I put my quill to it, but nothing happened except a blotch of ink appeared on the crisp parchment.  I scowled at the paper as though *it* was responsible for the lack of words.

I glared for so long that my eyes watered.  I stopped glaring and crumpled up the piece of parchment, tossing it towards the trash can.  It hit the can, and toppled off to the right of it, due largely to the immense amount of trash already in the can.

I turned to glare at the trash can.  How *dare* it be full?  Why couldn’t it empty itself?  We were wizards and witches, couldn’t we invent self emptying cans?

Then my mind reminded me that we had house elves, and that was our solution.  Of course, Hermione would never allow house elves to work for her without being paid, and her efforts, although not ended, extended to her hospital.  Dobby was hired, of course, and he was exclusively working on the patients rooms.  Hermione forbid him to do anything else.

I returned my attention to my paper, the new, fresh sheet gazing up at me, mockingly.  I almost crumpled it up out of spite.  Why had Draco told me to think anyway?  I didn’t do well with thinking.  That was Hermione’s job, or Ron’s if it was about strategy.  For me, I did the work, like a workhorse, that was what I was good at, spells cast, people caught, dark followers brought down to their knees.  I was good at nothing mental, which, I suppose, is why I was so afraid of seeing a mind healer.

Not afraid, disturbed, unnerved, maybe even annoyed, but not afraid.  The great Harry Potter was not afraid, not of anything, not even himself.  Where did that thought come from?  I incinerated the paper before anyone could read it.  When had I even started writing anyhow?

I stood up and started pacing.  Pacing was common place now, I even had a track though the mess that circled around three of the four sides of my bed.  Pacing was what I did when I was beginning to be concerned about my thoughts.  It was my way of trying to sort out what was happening to me.  If it turned out I couldn’t sort it out, pacing was what I did to bury the thoughts and feelings I wanted to be rid of.  Needless to say, I did a lot of pacing.  Even *I* knew it wasn’t good for me, but honestly what *was* I supposed to do?  Sit back, relax, and let the world run over me?  I absolutely *could* *not* let that happen.

It was already happening though, wasn’t it?  The world was falling into place, it was leaving it’s hero’s behind.

I turned around, feeling magic crackling all around me.  “Who said that?” I whispered.

‘I did,’ came a soft, familiar voice in my head.  I held my wand out and turned slowly around.

“Who are you?” my voice wasn’t shaking, I knew it wasn’t, I knew…

‘You.’

“Who?”

‘You.’

“Me?”

‘Yes.’

“So what, this is my conscience or something?”

‘No.’

“Then what?” I was getting agitated.

‘Your mind.’

“My mind?”

‘Yes.’

“I think I might be losing my mind,” I whispered honestly.

‘Not yet, but possibly soon.’

“What’s that supposed to mean?!” I burst out enraged.

‘You’ll see.’

“What!”  I felt anger rush through me and my sheets caught on fire.  “Aguamenti,” I pointed my wand and the sheets became sodden.

‘See what we mean’

“We?  There’s more than one of you?”

‘There always has been.’

I turned towards my mirror and glared at my reflection.  Perhaps I really was losing my sanity, because as I glared, the face of Neville appeared beside me in the mirror.  I whipped to look, but he wasn’t in my room.  I turned back to the mirror and he was there, putting a gentle hand on my shoulder.

“Harry,” he said.  It was as if he was really whispering in my ear.  “Harry, I know I won’t make it to the end with you.  I know it.”  My mouth was dry as the last words Neville Longbottom ever said to me were spoken again in my mirror.  “So, promise me, please Harry, don’t speak.”  I didn’t now, but then I was trying to.  “Promise me they won’t use my body.  Harry, promise me you’ll burn me as soon as I fall.  I don’t want to become an Inferi, I want to know my body won’t rise again to hurt others.  Can you promise me Harry?”  I nodded again, just as I had then.  I heard him sigh, and the Neville in the mirror nodded.  “Good, I feel better knowing that.”  And he disappeared from the mirror.  I ran to it, touching the glass where he had been.

“But Neville, I didn’t have to do it, by the time you died… he was almost dead.  I didn’t have to…”

‘But you did.  The promise was kept,’ came the voice inside of me.  I wanted to scream at it, but I felt the anger start to drain out of me.  ‘This won’t work, here is no good.’

“No good for what?” I slumped down on the ground, feeling defeated.

‘Room of Requirement.’  I blinked and shook my head.

“I’m not going to Hogwarts.”

‘Room of Requirement.’  The voice held no room for argument.  I wanted to scream, why was I always being ordered around?  ‘Take your parchment and pen.’  I groaned, it had to be kidding me, right?  ‘Stop feeling sorry for yourself and go!’

*“Not the pitiful self-loathing think, or the woe is me think, but honest, open thinking.”*  Draco’s words came floating back to me and I took a deep breath.

“Room of Requirement, huh?” I said, standing up.  Draco was right.  I really did need to think, and I supposed the Room of Requirement would create anything I needed, right?

I didn’t know what it was, but I had a goal now.  Life was always better with a plan, wasn’t it?

I didn’t know what I would be requiring, but I’d deal with that when I got there.  Determined, I put a hand through my hair, tucked my wand into my sleeve, and walked out of Hermione’s hospital.