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The end is like the beginning - uncertain.
"Tell me how." Either way, he didn't want to die here and now, tied up and defenseless. Geoffrey was walking on the edge of a velvet-covered knife.
Devlin, it said in small letters and Harry’s heart slammed into his ribs as he scrambled out of the bed. Alexandra was awake in a heartbeat.
Into the Fog
“He doesn’t remember you,” Geoffrey whispered and Devlin felt the fear wash over him again, his brain working in a whirlwind around him to figure out what Geoffrey had meant. He licked his lips, his brain screaming at him to make everything stop so he could think.
The Man at the Table
Emma. They had spoken to her briefly about the boy yesterday, but Harry knew she hadn’t really understood. How could she, when he was almost positive she didn’t remember him at all, except for the memories Alex and he had kept in her head, or perhaps simply put there.
The Other Werewolf
Draco Malfoy was beginning to seriously consider using his money and influence to procure a time turner.
A Brillant Plan
“I’m not that boy anymore, you know.” He pushed the picture of the boy laughing in the air towards the man. “I’ll never be him - ever - and you should send me back, because I’m not yours anymore.”
“I sure hope Potter has everything covered, because the boy doesn’t think so," Geoffrey said grimly.
There was a feverishness to his thoughts. Reality bore down upon his senses, but his nightmare-riddled brain refused to comply with reality’s demands. He thrashed again.
"You're afraid of him," Geoffrey said finally, after spending an afternoon dodging questions about the boy. Dumbledore's brow drew together infinitesimally and his blue eyes widened with with what Geoffrey was sure was fiend surprise. He drew his hands from his lap to settle, steepled, upon his desk.
The Day After Tomorrow
She looked at him for a long moment, her brilliant blue eyes haunting him. There was a sharpness at the edges of them, a knowing and not for the first time Dubhán wondered if what separated him from other child was only his ability to articulate what he was experiencing.
Professor for a Day
"Auror Potter, since you are the overseer, which curse would you like to start with?"
The Archives at the Hogwarts Library
He knew he shouldn't. But knowing he shouldn't, hadn't always stopped him. Potter thought he coward in fear from Voldemort, but Potter hardly knew him. Sometimes there were things that just had to be done and this was one of them.
For a moment Potter's face was entirely blank, then surprise flittered by - not like an unpleasant surprise, but like Dubhán imagined his face was like when he discovered how to use a wand.
Thoughts and Words
A Question for Harry Potter
Sometimes he thought Potter had chosen to live at Godric's Hallow just to show off. After all, the house might be well hidden, but Voldemort already knew where it was.
Snape's mind was like a thick fog; like misty soldiers marching into his territory.
Of Dancing and Scars
"There are lots of things people never say," he said, "but just because you haven't said it, doesn't mean you hadn't thought it."
His nerves ignited and fired and it was only pure survivalistic cruelty that stopped him from seizing. *fixed the italics issue
It wasn't possible. It didn't happen like that. It wasn't cognizant enough to participate in something as intricate as Occlumency.
"To you, he is the monster and to him, you are the monster - but neither of you really seem exactly like monsters to me."
At the Horizon
He would send him to the same place he had sent the boy. Let the newspapers miss that symbolism. Dubhán was his. This would be much more fun.
Voldemort did not bargain with life. He bargained with death.
A Walk in the World
Now he was alone with Potter. Wandless. Defenseless.
One More Secret?
"You said we need to be on the same page," the boy said, coming awake. "I'm trying to - I'm trying to get there."
A Battle at Home
If the wards weren't supposed to let him through their alert simply mingled with the on-going blare.
A Sharp Introduction
He would not think of the possibility that Voldemort had spies here. He would not think of how this would seem like betrayal to his grandfather.
Of Madness and Boyish Wolves.
He felt himself whimper for his boy as the trees disappeared and the grass grew a darker amber and the nothingness approached, eating it's way in from the edges.
Tangled and Trapped
-Where are we?- He asked, stepping into the sunlight camp.
"Is this where you live now?" She asked him, and he wondered how she managed - to stand there and be so brave as to make the first move.
You're spiraling in the wrong direction, Grandfather would have said, voice soft and dangerous.
It took him days to track down who had interviewed the boy.
A Tangled Web
Geoffrey chuckled and rolled on the balls of his heels."I pride myself with owning a great deal of sense." He leaned forward. "Is it your place, little dark one, to name me traitor?"
Tangled and Dreaming of Better Ways
"Get up," Gregory sneered, leering over him in the filthy cell. "We have a job to do, Malfoy."
A Far Away Place
Harry was Voldemort's Death, and Voldemort Harry's Death and he thought they each could play the part magnificently. He wondered whose Death he was, in the scheme of things.
The Little Dark One
Normally such a position would make him feel terribly vulnerable, but he thought Harry could have broken his wand and he wouldn't have noticed, because he already felt like his world was crumbling around him.
The Best Birthday Present
Dumbledore was imposing and softly-threatening (like a velvet covered knife, hidden between layers of robes and magic), but she was certainly as far from 'threatening' as Dubhán had ever known anyone to be.
A Bit of Backtracking
He was not the type of person, presented with an opportunity to acquire information, to let it fall between his fingers. Malfoy swayed on his feet, despite Voldemort's charm to keep him upright. It was easier to look him in the eye, this way. *Some of this occures prior to end of last chapter.
"I had the wand," he said, finding that, in this case, it was easier to start at the end rather than the beginning. Everything at the end he had thought of a million times, had meticulously planned before he had partaken. It was all those things in the middle that he tried so very hard not to even approach.
In retrospect, Devlin had been entirely foolish to have missed it so thoroughly.
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