Fic: Liberation

[regasssa]

Title: Liberation
Chapter: Chapter 9
Pairing: Harry Potter/Severus Snape, implied Hermione Granger/OMC
Rating: PG-13
Wordcount: 1618
Genre: Alternate Universe, Drama, General, Action/Adventure
Warnings: Adult language, violence
Summary: Harry's world has crashed and burned - but still rebellious factions keep up the fight against the wizards. This is Harry's story; the story of liberation.
Notes: If you want to read the rest of this story, please visit my tags.
Disclaimer: Harry Potter and related trademarks do not belong to me. I make no money from either my fic or my art.

 

Harry awoke to a pain in his hip, as though he had slept on a painful rock that jutted into him uncomfortably. He shifted until he got himself back into a seated position, his back against the stacks of boxes. When he discovered that there was nothing underneath him, he looked in his pockets - and there it was; the locket that he had forgotten in the rush of Hermione's rescue attempt.

He lifted it up before him and considered it thoughtfully. Slytherin's locket... But how had Snape had it, and how had he known what it was? 'How' could wait until another time, though - right now, Harry had to destroy the wretched thing.

But there was one problem. A quite significant one, really... He'd never destroyed a Horcrux before, and he wasn't exactly sure how he ought to go about doing it. And beyond that, what kind of strength of magic might he need? He couldn't risk bringing wizards down on their heads. And what kind of magic would be inside the Horcrux? Would there be any protective elements inside the locket?

Sighing, Harry placed the silver locket on the floor, and folded his legs up, looking down at it accusingly. Beside him, Jules and Horatio slept on.

Harry took his wand out of his pocket, and pointed it at the locket. "Reducto!" he hissed, deliberately.

The shot of red light hit the locket, made it glow slightly, and then disappeared. "Is that it?" he asked himself, reaching out to touch the locket. It was warm...and yet there was something not quite right about it - he could almost feel Voldemort's presence in the locket, and when he realised what the feeling was, a jolt of pain leapt up his arm, and made him yell - scar burning.

Harry dropped his wand, reaching up to cover his forehead. His noise had roused both Jules and Horatio, and they had both turned to look at him expectantly.

"What did you do?"

"Trying to destroy this...but..." Harry sighed, and picked the locket up again, turning it in his fingertips. This time, the presence was not there - it was a cold, boring locket again.

"What is that?" Jules spoke this time, leaning over to take the locket off him. "Oh...it's beautiful."

Harry sighed and shook his head. "Beauty is always the perfect disguise." He settled his hands in his lap and watched Jules handle the locket. "Do you recognise the crest, Horatio?"

The wizard tilted his head, leaning close to peer at the locket. "That's...well, if I'm not very much mistaken, that's Slytherin's crest."

Nodding, Harry reached out to take the locket back. "It's a powerful magical object...and it needs to be destroyed; but I can't quite figure out how I ought to do it."

"Well; surely a simple reductor curse ought to destroy it?" Horatio asked, still looking at the locket in Harry's hand.

"No," Harry sighed. "I don't know why, but it simply isn't working...I'll think on it, I guess." He lifted the locket, and hung it around his neck, tucking it neatly into place under his shirt. "If I think of anything, I'll try it - but until then...well, we have to save Hermione." He sighed, rubbing at his neck. "I don't think I can get any more sleep now. How about you?"

“I’m quite awake,” Jules replied, lifting one hand to rub the back of her neck. “Couldn’t sleep after that anyway…”

“Me neither,” added Horatio.

“Let’s get moving then,” Harry summarized, stepping towards the door. “We can collect some food on our way out.”

Outside the bunker; the dawn light was creeping up. Some distance away, a group of naked men and women slept, their bodies wrapped together for warmth. When Harry saw them, he called to Verde and Horatio to wait, and hurried over before either of them could stop him.

Jules was at Harry’s side immediately, simply by practice, while Horatio hovered behind, his dark eyes darting back and forth. “You should put them out of their misery,” he said, quickly, clearly not wanting to come any closer.

“It’s close minded thoughts like that,” Harry snapped, quickly, “That put them in this position in the first place. If you’d let them learn, they could have fought with us, instead of being used against us.” He circled the group, and just as he had almost completed his revolution he fell to the ground upon his knees, his hands falling onto the shoulders of one of the sleeping men.

“Remus!” he called softly. “Remus, wake up!”

The werewolf stirred; brown eyes opening to look up at Harry, sleepy unawareness in his eyes, and then confusion. Clearly Remus had dreamt of this kind of thing…how could he know that he wasn’t still sleeping?

“Harry?” came the soft, worried question, making the wizard beam, brightly.

“It is me, Remus. Oh Remus...!”

The reuniting of the two was baffling, and performed in complete silence. There was hugging and more hugging, excited whispers, but little more. “You have to go Harry,” Remus finally said to the overexcited young man. “They’ll be coming to collect us soon…”

“Then you’ve got to come with us,” Harry declared, standing back up. “Or at least hide…come on, you can come to the bunker…”

Remus shook his head, sadly, his chocolate eyes fixed on a distraught Harry. “I can’t come, Harry. I’ve been chipped.” He brought his hand up to where a bulge sat under the skin, just under his ear.

“Chipped?” Harry asked, weakly, moving closer. “What is that, Remus?”

“A locator,” the other replied, regarding Harry sadly. “If I come with you, then they’ll know where we are…and you’ll be caught. And I don’t want you to die now that I know you’re alive, Harry…Give me that hope, please…”

“What? Remus…I can’t just leave you…”

“You must, Harry…” Remus replied, firmly. “I’ll be allright,” he said, “I’ve survived this long already…”

Jules stepped forwards just at that moment, one hand falling on his shoulder. “There’ll be time to save everyone later, Harry. You can’t do everything at once. Come on, though…”

Harry lunged forwards, giving Remus another tight hug, then let himself move back slowly, his eyes wet, reaching up to dry them with the back of his hand. “I’ll get you free, Remus…I promise.”

“I know you will Harry,” Remus urged, his eyes flickering to the stirring figure of the largest of the men laid out beside him. “Now go, Harry. Quickly! I face the coming day better knowing that you’re alive.”

Harry smiled, broadly. He certainly felt like he could face even a Malfoy trap with a light heart, now that he knew that Remus was alive – it was almost too good to be true.

They had barely reached cover at the church when they discovered that it truly was too good to be true. Eight or nine wizards appeared with a crack, stirring the werewolves from their slumber and lining them up even as they dozed on their feet. One woman fought, and was quite brutally put back into her place, before all at once they disappeared, leaving nothing in the morning haze but birdsong.

* * * * *

In his office, the former Headmaster of Hogwarts’ office, one Dark Lord was eating his breakfast, his red eyes fixed unbrokenly upon the reserved man who sat opposite him. Severus Snape had returned this morning to repeat that which he had said at the meeting the previous night. His story had not changed in the slightest.

And so Voldemort simply had to accept that Harry Potter was indeed alive and leading one of those troublesome pockets of resistance that had so far been a thorn in his proverbial side.

Truly the boy had excellent powers of survival. He had simply disappeared when the war heated up, and the Dark Lord had presumed him dead. With no word of his continued existence, it was so easy to suppose so. There had been rumours, of course – but every hero and martyr left rumours of his miraculous return in his wake; he would have been a fool to believe them.

But Snape? Voldemort believed Snape…the man was not the kind to dream up false pretences. If he said that Harry Potter was alive, then the brat was certainly alive, no doubt about it.

In any case, the Dark Lord, despite being distressed that the boy could have slipped under his radar, was distinctly pleased that he still had a final meeting with his archenemy to look forward to. It would seal his victory, and if he was lucky, crush any tiny spots of resistance that still remained.

There was an interruption to his consideration of Severus Snape over his breakfast. Wormtail, uncouth as ever, rushed in gripping a letter in his silver hand, watery blue eyes flicking first to Voldemort, who remained impassive, to Snape, who tilted his head questioningly, examining Pettigrew in the same way that he might have done a slug in his path.

“From M-Malfoy,” he simpered, approaching quickly. “It’s about P-Potter.”

Voldemort took the letter from Wormtail, opening it and peering over the words scrawled there. A smirk spread across his snakelike features, and he turned his predatory eyes back to his two Death Eaters.

“Things seem to be looking up,” he proclaimed. “Soon, we shall find out just how Harry Potter has avoided us all these years.”