Memento Immori

Chapter One: As the Wizard Lay Dying

“Death comes but once, and nails you right between the eyes.”

He lay dying, his life a thread of consciousness groping for hope in the sleeping dark. Blood and breath were fading echoes, remembered sensations growing fainter moment to moment. It was a battle to be lost, hopeless inevitability that tried to drag his mind down to the black abyss of unlife.

He did not wish to die.

It was a war between nature and will, time and mind. Death and life. It was a battle that could have had only one conclusion.

He. Did. Not. Wish. To. Die.

It was not a beast's inclination to life that fueled him. Power, guided as he had never dared guide it in life, lent him the strength. Born of furious desperation, born of inheritance the might came to him as the air began to still in his lungs. He resisted.

It was not a question of power, Death answered. It was never a question of power. He knew it, had known it, had forgotten it. Had buried the dangerous knowledge beneath the life he had built around him, with time and toil and careful patience.

That life was dead. Destroyed. Vanished in the blink of an eye as if it had never been, a hollow illusion, a conjurer's trick of the light.

Fury. Fire lifted his consciousness, demanding justice, demanding punishment. Demanding treachery's repayment, to be paid in righteous full.

Useless. Revenge was not the answer. Vengeance was not the way back.

The sands trickled by, a whispering buzz in his ears that he refused to decipher.

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“Men have died from time to time, and the worms have eaten 'em, but not for love.” William Shakespeare

“So, he finally went to school.” He sighed, stretching on the armchair. She smiled at him, waving a wand to rearrange the books that lay on the table.

“Who would've thought?” A flick of her wand sent the pile sailing to the bookshelf. “I couldn't believe it when Al finally got his letter, and I have been counting the years for so long I can't remember.”

“I wasn't.” He pointed out smugly. “I talked to Minerva some days ago about it. She told me they were sending owls early this year.”

“And you didn't want to tell me?” She put her hand to her hips, and he would've been more concerned about her tone if he hadn't known her joking moods better - and if the hips hadn't looked so nice. Quite inviting. But Lily was home, he reminded himself with a mental sigh. And it wasn't nearly bedtime yet.

“I didn't want to spoil the surprise.” He defended himself. “You looked funny when the owl landed on the breakfast table.”

“I thought maybe there'd been a problem and they wanted you to know.” She frowned. “I was worried that there'd been something wrong with Al's invitation.”

“Well, he certainly was excited to get it,” He said. “Lily seemed a little jealous though.”

“Of course she was.” The curtain spread itself across the living-room window as she gestured with her wand. “Two older brothers going to Hogwarts, and Rose too. She wants to start school with them, not sit at home and feel left out.”

“I remember someone who was that way once.” He said mischievously. “I saw you on the platform in our first year, you know. You were crying to Molly and shouting how you wanted to go to Hogwarts - ”

“You try being raised with six elder brothers,” She shot back, though he thought he could see a faint blush blooming in her cheeks. “Seriously not funny, being alone at the house when they went off adventuring to Hogwarts. I know how Lily feels. She's very close to Al and Rose, and now they're both gone -”

“Well, her turn is going to come soon enough,” He rose, letting a little sigh escape. “They seem to grow up so fast.” She came forward and hugged him, and life was simple again for a moment. Simple and free and good.

“Lily is home,” She whispered furiously as his hands started to take liberties. He kissed her neck, and the faint taste of strawberry was as good as it had been the first time. He shaped her hips with his hands, her body like life and searing fire under his palm, living and warm and home. Well-known, well-traveled, and loved. She smiled, and he knew it even with his eyes closed. Her breath hitched, and the desire roared in his ears.

“Harry, stop… stop. She's just in the next room.” She was whispering sense, and he wanted no part of it. Still he let her go, the aftertouch of her breasts still a lingering shiver in his palms. The tension that had gathered in him relaxed. He kissed her in the cheek, breathing in her scent.

“You haven't been like that for… so long,” She was breathing fast.

“Work.” He sighed again. “Too much work. Maybe I should take a vacation.”

“Maybe you should.” She leaned and gave him a quick kiss. “All this work isn't good for your health. Look at Ron, he doesn't work nearly as hard as you do.”

“Ron isn't the one saddled with the job of being the Head of the Auror Department.” He smiled. “Maybe I'll take some leave. I'm owed some, I'm sure.”

“We can go meet mum,” She said. “She hasn't been the same since dad…”

“Yeah, we will.” He said somewhat neutrally. “And then, I was thinking, a week on the beach.”

“Really?” Her eyes lit up. “But what about Lily?”

“Andromeda can take care of her for one week,” He replied. “She always offers, and you always say no. Do you want a week in the sun? I'm thinking maybe Australia.”

“One week in the sun? That's all you're planning?” Her eyes twinkled, warm brown, familiar, loved and cherished.

“I pledge to be a perfect gentleman.” He grinned.

“I'd rather you aren't.” She grinned back. “But I'm not sure about leaving Lily alone at a time like this…”

“You know she'd love it,” He coaxed her. “She loves spending time with her. Come on, just think about the sun, away from all this rain and mist.”

“Well -” She was interrupted halfway as the sound of tinkling glass came through the door. They looked around, and then she gave an exasperated sigh. "Lily's been having more of these bursts lately. She set the rug on fire yesterday, you know? It was a godawful mess."

"She's talented, that's all. Like her mother." He laughed. "Go and see what she broke this time, will you?"

"I'm sure she inherited this from you," She said as she went out to the corridor. "Don't tell me you never did any accidental magic yourself. You set a cobra on him, Dudley says."

He didn't say anything for a moment, then tried to reply in a low voice. "It was a Boa Constrictor, actually -" But she was already gone. He sighed and looked at the table, now neat and tidy. The memories tried to flood back, and he denied them with the ruthless efficiency that comes out of practice.

More sounds. Glass tinkling, shattering. Something alerted him, something told him something he didn't want to hear.

Danger. Danger, somewhere. Nearby.

She had gone to see what was wrong

And he was running, sudden, flat-out.

He didn't reach them in time.

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"We understand death for the first time when he puts his hand upon one whom we love."

Her throat was cut, a precision stroke he recognized as professional. His mind was numb for a moment, refusing to understand.

He went forward, and took the little body in his arms. Blood pooled, not much but enough. It was cooling already.

Sound. Footsteps. He looked up.

The curse struck, green flames intense and blinding. It struck at his chest, lifting him off the floor with vicious force. His back hit the wall, and he slid to the floor. A misty haze surrounded his vision, and the man came in sight.

The white skullmask grinned at him. He tried to grin back. He couldn't remember - why couldn't he remember - why was he on the floor?

“Sir, he's alive!” Fear was a smell he recognized, but the man didn't need to fear him. “I'm the good guy,” He tried to say, as they said in the muggle films. Nothing came out of his throat.

“Really.” Another skull, another grin, another stink of fear. Irritating. He tried to breathe, but something wasn't working properly. Air, he needed air. Why was he on the floor? Why couldn't he breathe?

And where was she anyway? Didn't she know that they had guests?

"Mobillicorpus."

Don't put a spell like that on my daughter, he tried to shout, could utter nothing. Don't -

Blood spattered on his robes, his Lily (how little she was, fragile) fell in front of him. She wasn't stirring. He tried to sit up, she needed to get to St. Mungo's, these people weren't helping her, his daughter, his -

"You weren't the primary objective, Potter." That second man was saying. "Your wife was. But it was suggested that you'd be a nice addition, if we could kill you." An arrogant shake of the head, rude and brave. He didn't like the man's tone, disparagingly bland. He tried harder to understand what the man was blathering about. It might be important. "As if you were going to be trouble. You're nothing special, Potter. Nothing special. Just a bit lucky, and with a high reputation. But I've beaten Felix Felicis in my time, and I never did care for people who get reputations they don't deserve." The wand touched his hair, cutting a lock that the man collected carefully in a flask. "This will be proof enough."

"He's still alive, sir!" The first voice, with an edge of panic that something in him recognized.

"I daresay that he's had practice," The man snapped back. "Well, Potter, I've had some, what do they say, inside information on your supposed surviving of the killing curse. I highly doubt you're going to survive it twice at once, seeing that -" He looked around for a moment theaterically, "there's nobody around here that you can sacrifice yourself for." He leaned down. "This is the end, Potter. Goodbye. She'd be following you when we're done with her, have no fear on that score." He laughed, harsh and cruel, and everything was beginning to come back to him in a painful flash of understanding -

"Avada Kedavra!"

Green. Green fire and darkness that crept in his mind. The patient and terrible darkness that seemed familiar, something he almost could call friend...

"He isn't breathing, sir. He's dead. Harry Potter is dead." Disbelief and awe.

"Good. Now let's be gone. She needs to be delivered as soon as possible." The clipped tones of a man in a hurry. He hated that voice, but the darkness was there already and carrying him forward...

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"Because I could not stop for Death,

He kindly stopped for me.

The carriage held just but ourselves,

And Immortality... "  Emily Dickinson

He was cold, so cold.

Freezing glass, frost, a breeze of ice that was cruising through his veins. He did not, could not force himself to remain any longer. Blackness beckoned, promising eternal sleep. Rest, final and immutable. But he would not. He resisted.

But all his efforts were as nothing. The darkness would not yield. The abyss would not recede.

I will not die, he asserted with all the force he could master. I cannot die! She - my sons -

Death was cold, merciless. Death did not care for love or revenge. Death would not give him up.

I am your master, he tried. I am your master! I am the master of the Hallows!

The knowledge came with that, memories fleeting as quicksilver. It was not a matter of force.

It had never been a matter of force

And he understood.

Yes, he whispered. Yes. I accept.

People were lifting him up.

"Harry!" He knew that voice. Ron's. "Who - who did this?" He was sobbing, full of rage. Harry looked at him, trying to understand where he was.

"Harry?" There were furious tears in Ron's eyes, tears he did not bother to hide or wipe away. "Where is - where is Ginny?"

"They took her, Ron -" The emotions weren't troubling him yet, and that was good. He tried not to look at Lily, lying broken and dead on the floor. Grief would come later, or not at all. He did not have time for grief.

His daughter had deserved better than this.

Ginny was in their hands -

He had to find her, soon. What did the man say - she would follow - they planned to kill her. He suppressed the anger, stilling it, storing it away. It will have its use. Soon.

"Ron." His voice seemed flat and calm, and full of that old authority he desperately tried to capture again. "Go to Hogwarts. They attacked my family -" He broke off, and for a moment emotions tried to unsettle the cold-hot calm he was trying to maintain. "Go see if James and Al are all right. Keep them close. Tell them nothing."

"But Harry -"

"Enough!" He hadn't meant to shout, but he must not have been as emotionless as he had thought. Understandable. He checked his shields, pools of fire and darkness that shrouded his thoughts. They were intact, despite the strain that tried to fracture them. "Go and do it. I'll handle this end."

"Yes, Harry." Ron whispered. He went out, and most of the Aurors accompanied him at his nervous gesture. Harry waved off a Healer that tried to come near him, his scowl scattering the remaining hitwizards away like jittery birds. He began to twirl on his feet, then paused. His robes were partially burned, and he found what they all were looking at when he glanced at his bare chest.

Twin lightnings, mirroring each other, fresh and livid red on white skin.

"You survived the Killing Curse again. Twice again." A Trainee he vaguely recognized whispered, her voice tinged with awe. He gave her a sharp glance, and did not feel better when she cringed at his expression.

"You do not survive death, Miss," He snarled, the anger and despair trying to burn its way through to his voice. "You just delay it a little."

And that was the truth he knew, as he twirled on his feet and the apparition tunnel flung him into its dark and crushing depths.

His time was running out.

 

A/N: 1.This is a post-DH (including the Epilogue) story. Hence the H/G part is... unavoidable. Sorry. No more mushy scenes, though. I guarantee it.

2. "Memento mori" is a well-known proverb, loosely meaning "remember you are mortal". The title is basically me raping an ancient language. I don't know if it actually means what I hope it means.