Atrum Viridis

AN: Hey everyone again! >> Sorry it has been so long since I updated. TT so much to do to get my show ready. Anyway! ^^ This is my next chapter! Thank you all who are still with me! I really appreciate your understanding.





Chapter: Death









Harry looked around Sirius’s room absently as he finished packing the last of his things into his old trunk. The aging walls and the permanently stuck pictures of his parents and their best friends now felt like they were part of a home to him. He didn’t feel like Grimmauld Place was his true home, not like Hogwarts had been, but it had become a kind of sanctuary from the world. Now it was only a prison and he had to move on. It didn’t change the fact that he had become comfortable there and now joining the photographs on the walls was one of himself with Ron, Hermione, and Ginny that Collin had taken during their fourth year. He supposed it represented the part of his heart that would remain there…beside those of his family.



Such profound and rather depressing thoughts were for some other time, however, and he quickly dragged his eyes away from the walls and pushed down the top of his trunk, latching it shut securely. He had been forced to look up a spell for expanding the inside since he now had more things like books and potions ingredients and he didn’t want to have to carry more luggage. He had changed the outside just incase, covering up the Gryffindor stickers and other memorabilia that might give him away for not being who he claimed now claimed to be. “James” wasn’t from England after all.



All of his things were packed carefully while his most prized possessions like his photo album and the pieces of the two way mirror that Sirius had given him were wrapped in his invisibility cloak - along with the book and key pendant he had gotten at the junk shop wrapped in brown paper - and stashed in the top of the trunk in a hidden compartment that only his wand could open. He double and triple checked everything to make sure he was ready before shrinking the trunk and placing it in his pocket. His ‘death’ was going to happen soon so he needed to be ready and at the Three Broomsticks for the news.



Glancing back one last time into the room he stepped out, closing the door firmly behind him. He was ensuring that money would be transferred to the house automatically through his old account so that Kreacher would be able to maintain its upkeep. But a good portion had been transferred through to Professor McGonagall’s second account. She had then transferred into a new account under his name just incase anyone was watching it would be harder to put together what was happening and it would just look like his family had set up a bank account for him while he was in England. He had claimed the money he had sent to McGonagall was a donation to the school, which also kept suspicions low. He had to have money to live off of, though, since it would probably take a little while to find a job. And since his story was that he was from a prominent full-blooded family he had to have the money to back it up.



Thankfully after doing some research on traditions of old, pureblood families he would be able to at least pass as one who was just a bit eccentric



McGonagall would have his name once he met her at the Three Broomsticks and be able to give him all the documentation and ‘proof’ to back up his story. He was very glad she knew what to do because he doubted he would have been able to come up with everything himself. He would need her to help pick out a place to live as well since he had no idea on the process of buying property or anything of that sort.



They had also prepared for his cover by acquiring a translation ring through one of Professor McGonagall’s many contacts in the wizarding community. One of her old students had actually gone into the business of working on such items. Wizarding governments all around the world purchased whenever one of their people visited a country where they were not familiar with the language. There were other kinds, mainly necklaces or watches. Harry had decided that the ring would be the most discrete, however, and picked out a design that wouldn’t draw attention to itself. The ring was simple silver and fit on his index finger. It was made of two bands, one set into the other and when the inside band was turned it would activate and the wearer would instantly start speaking in the language that the ring was charmed to know.



It was Hermione that had come up with the great idea to simply place the ring on backwards so that when it was turned ‘off’ it would look like Harry was actually turning it on so that he could speak English. No one but an expert on the item would even be able to notice. The language chosen? Italian. Yes obviously Harry was going to have a cover of coming from Italy. He had done extensive research on Italy and how people lived there. He needed to be able to pass as having grown up there after all so knowing something as simple as the candy that most children ate was extremely important. He was once more thankful for Hermione. She had used her great skills at book research and even used her father’s computer to access the internet and find out some of the smaller details.



Harry just hoped it was enough.



He stepped into the living room and nodded at Kreacher who quickly hobbled over, teary-eyed and obviously upset. He had just gotten a master back after all and as a house elf he felt as if he had failed his master in some way when he wasn’t able to prevent him from being hurt and threatened by people outside his home.



“Kreacher hopes master Harry will come and visit.” He said shakily, wringing his hands.



Harry gave a forced smile and nodded. “Of course I’ll be coming back and visiting.” He said assuring. “I be needing to pick up mail and other things every once in a while.”



Kreacher nodded reluctantly before handing the boy a large handkerchief that held two good sized ham sandwiches and some every flavor beans. The long haired boy couldn’t help but chuckle softly at that and reached out to gently shake the old creature’s hand.



“Thank you, Kreacher, you are a great help. I’ll be back in a few weeks to check on everything. If something happens contact Professor McGonagall. She will be able to reach me.” He said, patting his head faintly before stepping over to the fireplace.



“Yes, Master Harry.” He said shakily.



Harry gave the other a kind look and patted his head.



“Don’t worry; it is not going to be that bad. You won’t have to clean up after me anymore.” He said with fake cheer.



Kreacher sniffed loudly but quickly nodded, mumbling something about needing to dust the space behind the oven and hobbling off. Harry gave a faint smile as he watched him leave before lifting up his arm to peer into his sleeve where the small snake’s beady little eyes were staring at him.



Hermione and Ron had come there the night before to spend time with him and say their temporary goodbyes. They wouldn’t be able to have contact with him for a long time after all, except through McGonagall and she wasn’t even going to be visiting him a lot either so as to keep attention off of him. Ron had taken it the hardest. Harry didn’t think that he would ever be comfortable with the idea of having to act like his best friend was dead. It was just too morbid and reminded him far too much of how close they had come to actually loosing him during the final battle against Voldemort. Hermione had to plead with him for hours and use all of her persuasive abilities on the boy before they were able to even have a calm conversation about the whole thing. The bushy haired girl was much more understanding and even though her goodbyes had contained tears and Harry had been forced to accept the bone crushing hug she gave him she realized that this was the best and probably the only way that her friend was going to be able to have a normal life.



Harry greatly appreciated their help.



The two would be helping with his staged death along with Neville – who was playing him under a glamour charm – while he made his own alibi by being around people when the ‘news’ arrived that he had died.



They all knew that going along with this charade would cause a media frenzy. Hermione and Ron and both families and pretty much everyone close to him would be swamped by fans and reporters. Being mobbed wherever they went and having unwanted attention paid to them…he knew how hard it was and yet they were still able to agree to it for his sake. It would probably go on for a good while too, maybe years. He felt guilty about asking them to do this but at the same time he felt like he wouldn’t survive unless he got away from it all. It was still amazing how much they cared about him, though, and he knew he would never forget it.



“Are you ready to go?” he asked. “Do you remember what I told you about disssssapparating? It is going to feel really strange and like you’re being squeezed, but it will only last a few minutes. It won’t harm you at all and it will get us to where we are going really really fast.”



The little head bobbed up and down a bit.



“Yesssss, human. I know thisssss. Get on with it already.” He said grumpily.



The small snake hadn’t liked the hustle and bustle that had been going on the last few days and he hadn’t liked being thrown about while in the boy’s shirt when that larger human had hurt him. He had almost decided that it would be better if he just left and didn’t bother hanging around a human that was so dangerous…but seeing the youngling crying and so upset…it had unsettled him. He was not knowledgeable about human actions. This man-child that had bought him and taken him from the horrible glass box was alone and that didn’t seem right or fair. He did know that humans were always in groups and something must have been wrong for this youngling to be set off on his own. He decided that he could stay for a little while longer to see what would happen. If he didn’t like living with him he would simply bite him hard and leave.



Harry gave a faint chuckle before nodding, closing his eyes and focusing his magic. He lifted his wand and the next moment the familiar feeling of being pulled through a straw engulfed him. He closed his eyes to try and make the action easier. He stumbled when he was suddenly stopped and he found himself standing in front of the Three Broomsticks.



“Well at leassst I didn’t sssplinch ussss.” He whispered with a smirk before reaching down to his ring and turning it on then moving to the door and stepping in.



The normal crowds were around, minus the students. An elderly man and who looked to be his daughter were sitting at a corner eating lunch. A few men were at another table talking and drinking butterbeer while a few lone people were scattered throughout.



Not one of them looked twice at him.



Feeling suddenly confident in his new appearance, Harry moved towards the bar where Madam Rosmerta was wiping off the counter. The woman looked just as cheerful as ever and Harry was pleased to see that the war hadn’t affected that.



“Why hello there, young man.” She said politely, offering a warm smile as he sat down. “What can I do for you?”



Harry couldn’t understand her anymore though, due to the ring so he just gave a thoughtful look before making a show of ‘remembering’ and reaching for his ring.



“Mi scusi.” He said before turning the ring ‘on’ or rather off and looked up to the woman again.



“I apologize, I forgot to turn my translator on before I left.” He said sheepishly, being as polite as possible and trying to portray years of proper upbringing that he never had.



It obviously worked so far because Rosmerta beamed a smile at him, waving off his apology and just moving to get him a glass of water.



“Well that’s perfectly alright, dear.” She said, brushing some of her long hair behind her ear. “Is there anything that I can help you with? Are you hungry?” she asked.



Harry blinked but gave a sheepish look when his stomach suddenly growled. He hadn’t thought to eat breakfast before packing… His now chocolate brown eyes turned back to the woman and he nodded.



“Yes please, that would be most appreciative.” He said before looking to the menu that she readily handed him.



He was about to order a butterbeer but stopped himself just in time. They did not drink butterbeer in Italy. Most of their drinks in the wizarding community were based off of wine or kinds of fruit. He couldn’t act as if he knew many of the foods either. A lot of English dishes were heavy with meat and sausages while the Italian menus were vastly different due to cultural tastes just like any other country in the world. He would just have to act for a while as if it was all foreign to him.



“I am…terribly sorry but I don’t seem to be familiar with English cuisine. Would it be too much trouble to ask if you could make a suggestion?” he asked innocently.



The woman nodded. “Of course it wouldn’t!” She said instantly, obviously taking a liking to him already. “My personal favorites are Lancashire Hotpot and Yorkshire pudding.”



Harry didn’t mind either of the dishes so he nodded; making sure that he remained sitting up straight on the barstool even though it was a bit uncomfortable. He made sure that the snake was hidden as well. It would not be good to have anyone freaking out because of his pet.



“Thank you, that sounds lovely.” He said politely again, glad that at least something good had come out of living with the Dursley’s.



Aunt Petunia had been extremely strict about how he was suppose to act if ANYONE came around and Uncle Vernon’s large, meaty fists had driven the lessons into his memory well. Going a little over the top and incorporating what he had learned about pure-blood traditions just helped to support the guise that he was from a prominent family.



Harry also had to admit that it was kind of fun and freeing in a way to play someone else. To be a different person. To not have the stigma of “Harry James Potter: savior of the world” stamped literally across his forehead. Not having to always look over his shoulder or have people he didn’t even know mobbing him was like a dream. It made him feel…normal.



He watched absently as the woman hurried into the kitchens to have her house elves prepare the food for him. Deciding that he felt someone’s eyes on him he glanced around once more to inspect the room, always cautious now almost to the point of paranoia. No one blamed him.



Once again no one in the room seemed out of place. The group of men was standing up to leave - probably getting back to their jobs – while two more men stepped in. The boy’s eyes darted to the new arrivals, unconsciously examining them for any signs of a threat. He did not recognize either of them. The slightly shorter one seemed vaguely familiar but he couldn’t put his finger on where he had seen him. His hair was a dark black like his but was longer almost to his waist and held back in tie. His eyes were slanted and were a dark blue while his skin was tanned. It wasn’t his face either, that was recognizable…just something about him that made Harry think that he had seen him before.



The man glanced up at him and their eyes met for a brief moment before the other looked away and seemed to dismiss him completely as he and his companion – a blonde man with green eyes – went to find a secluded table in the corner to eat and talk. Harry watched them discretely for a few minutes, trying to figure out if the man was familiar because he was a Death



Eater or if he had just passed him on the street one day.



He didn’t have long to ponder these thoughts though when Rosmerta returned with his food and a bottle of butterbeer. Forcing himself not to simply inhale the food like his stomach wanted, he thanked her politely once more before eating a little bite. Making a show of trying to decide whether he liked it or not he finally smiled and nodded.



“This is delicious. Thank you for recommending it.” He said before starting to eat the rest at a normal pace.



The food really was good just like it always was and Harry gladly set about to clean his plate. Madam Rosmerta chuckled and nodded.



“Why thank you young man. It is always a pleasure to serve to new customers. You can call me Rosmerta” She said politely before leaning against the bar a little and tilting her head to the side curiously. “So what brings you here to Hogsmeade?”



Harry paused before offering a smile.



“It is a pleasure to meet you, Madam Rosmerta. My name is James and I happen to be meeting a friend of my family. I plan on moving here to England at least for a short while and she has offered to help get me settled because my family is otherwise preoccupied at the moment.” He lied easily.



The woman nodded, pulling back a little to start wiping off the counter again as they talked.



“Well you have come at a wonderful time, James.” She said happily, still very much in high spirits from the fall of the Dark Lord. “England has never been safer and I’m sure you will have no problems fitting in here.” She gave him a playful wink. “And if you do you can come to me and I’ll straighten it out. It is so good to see more young people around.”



Harry couldn’t help but laugh, nodding.



“I will be sure to keep that in mind, Madam Rosmerta.” He said amused.



The woman chuckled as well before shaking her head.



“For the life of me I can’t help but think you look rather familiar. Have you visited before?” she asked curiously, making Harry inwardly tense.



He smiled a little and nodded.



“My family and I stopped by here a few years ago on our way to the Quidditch World Cup.” He said, hoping that if he gave her a story like that instead of saying that he hadn’t been there at all that she would write it off and forget about it instead of thinking over it constantly trying to figure out why he was familiar.



Rosmerta seemed thoughtful for a moment as she studied him.



“Yes, that must be it.” She said then went back to cleaning. “I never forget a face after all.”



Harry couldn’t help but chuckle softly to himself. The two chatted lightly while Harry ate, keeping the topics light and about things like Quidditch and whether or not the Gorodok Gargoyles would be able to stand up against the Karasjok Kites in the next season.



It was only about half an hour after he finished his food that Professor McGonagall entered the pub, looking just as collected as always and not as if she was about to fake the death of her most famous student. She walked calmly to his side and sat down on the stool beside him.



“Good afternoon, Rosmerta.” She greeted, setting her bag down on the counter top and then looking to Harry. “I presume that your trip wasn’t too complicated?”



Harry quickly shook his head.



“No Mam’, I arrived here at the Three Broomsticks without incident and Madam Rosmerta has been gracing me with her wonderful company to pass the time.” He said a playful smile on his lips that made the professor want to roll her eyes.



He simply couldn’t hold himself back, though. It was far too amusing to play this part while the older woman knew exactly who he was. Professor McGonagall could see the amusement in the situation as well and thought that the boy was a little imp. It made her very happy though, to see that he had recovered at least enough to be able to joke like that. For a while she had been extremely worried over her student’s state of mind. Grown men and women were traumatized by what they had experienced because of Lord Voldemort…to think that a young man who had been faced with these dangers since he was a child could come out of it unscathed was pure wishful thinking. Harry was nothing if not resilient, however, and for that she was eternally grateful.



“I see.” She said with a chuckle before looking to Rosmerta once more. “Merta, dear, I was hoping to be able to have James rent a room here for a little while until I can help him find a place that he can buy. I would let him stay at Hogwarts of course but there’s so much going on that it is still a bit unstable at the moment and I don’t want to take any chances.”



“Well of course I don’t mind!” she said with a laugh. “It would be my pleasure to have such a charming young man staying in one of my rooms.” She teased.



Professor McGonagall chuckled and nodded before standing.



“Thank you, Merta, we greatly appreciate this.” She said before looking to Harry. “Come with me, James; let’s find a more private table to sit at. There are some formalities that I’ve got to go over with you if you want to become a resident here.”



Harry nodded, his longer bangs falling into his eyes but he didn’t dare push them away. He couldn’t let his guard down in the slightest, especially not so close to when his ‘death’ was going to be exposed. The boy stood and followed his old professor to the back of the room where they could sit at one of the booths and not be over heard by anyone.



Once they were seated, Minerva put up silencing charms around them before she said anything.



“Now then, how are you holding up Potter?” she asked as she took off her hat and set it aside, absently patting at her hair to make sure it was still in place. “Your disguise turned out rather well. I’m impressed. If you were still at school I would award you house points.”



Harry smiled a little at that, remembering the rivals at Hogwarts. It all seemed so far away now.



“I’m fine professor, and thank you. I’ve made sure that Kreacher knows to contact you if anything happens. How are Ron and Hermione? Did you get to speak to them before they started getting ready?” he asked hopefully.



He wanted to know how they were after all.



“I was able to speak to Ms. Granger and Mr. Weasley early this morning along with Mr. Longbottom. They have it planned so that Mr. Longbottom will have a full glamour on to play you. They will then set up an ‘accident’ involving a wrongly made potion and they will make it look like you died in the explosion. Mr. Longbottom will then disapparate out of the scene and Ms. Granger will transfigure an object into your dead body and no one will know the difference.” She explained.



Harry thought the idea over in his head and finally agreed. It was a good idea after all. If his death had something to do with a creature or an attack on him from another wizard or witch it would send the magical community up in arms trying to find the killer. He didn’t want to risk someone being prosecuted for killing him when he wasn’t dead. If it was an accident then it would be easier for them to accept and it also wouldn’t be too much of a stretch for those who knew him and remembered how badly skilled he was at potions.



“So what will happen afterwards?” he asked curiously, wondering just what she would have to do to keep the cover.



“Well for starters we’re going to have to have your funeral.” She said simply, making Harry tense. “After a suitable amount of time has passed we will tell Mr. Weasley’s family about the plan. We are going to hold off, however, ensuring that their reactions to your death are believable.”



He had forgotten about that part. If he went through with this then he would never be able to go back or all hysteria would be let loose. It was final. The thought made him pause. Yes he had known that this wasn’t something he could just undo once it was started but…well waiting here and being so close to it actually happening…it was intimidating. Not to mention how horrible he felt about making the Weasley family go through more pain no matter how brief.



Professor McGonagall watched him for a long moment, studying his reactions and trying to decipher his thoughts.



“You know…you don’t have to do this if you don’t want to.” She said carefully. “We can still call it off. They wouldn’t blame you for it.”



Harry hesitated, shifting a little as he gathered himself. He thought for a long moment on what it was that he really wanted. Did he really want to become someone else? Leave all the people he cared about behind? He would never be able to be the same person around Hermione and Ron again, at least not in public. He wouldn’t be able to get close to anyone for a long time in order to ensure that the chance of being recognized were small. He would be alone.



The alternative though was to never be able to go outside again. To never be able to show his face without being mobbed. To always be forced to watch over his shoulder in case some Death-Eater-wanna-be decided that they could make a name for themselves by hexing him in the back. To always be plagued by the name that made him famous. To be judged by those standards…for the rest of his life. He saves the world at the age of seventeen. What would they expect from him in five years? Ten? Thirty? He couldn’t live with that kind of burden hanging over him…



“No….I want to do this. I have to.” He said firmly. “My name is James. From now on that is who I am.”



Minerva didn’t say anything at first, just watched him before giving in a nod.



“Very well. If you are sure this is what you want…” she said calmly.



“It is.” He answered.



He had decided. This was the last step. There was no turning back. He was going to be free…



Realizing that her student wasn’t going to be changing his mind, she pulled out a large envelope from her smaller pocket in her robes and placed it on the table. It was a simple folder, yellow and with no distinguishing marks. Nothing unusual about it at all. Harry knew that his life was now in that plain envelope, however, and he carefully picked it up, almost afraid that it might break and his only chance at escape would disappear.



“I left the last name blank. I did not know if you wanted to choose it for yourself or not.” She explained as she watched him open it.



Inside were papers about his birth, his family and every legal document he would ever need. Giving a nod, Harry put them back inside the envelope and closed it. He put it securely in one of his extending pockets before looking back up to her again.



“Just fill in the name on the birth certificate and the rest will fill itself out.” She said. “I already sent the papers in to the ministry but with everything that is going on it won’t even be looked at for a few weeks. I would suggest you don’t waste time in choosing your last name, though.” She warned.



“Yes, Professor.” He agreed.



The woman watched him for a long moment, her eyes suspiciously shiny before reaching over and patting his hand.



“I know I do not say this often, Potter…but I am very proud to have had you as a student.” She said honestly. “Your parents would be proud…everyone would be proud of what you’ve done. They would understand why you are doing this.”



Harry couldn’t help the flush on his cheeks, knowing that even after all he lost he still had people that cared about him. It was a relief to hear someone tell him that he wasn’t just running away. That he wouldn’t be hurting their memories by disappearing like this. He ducked his head to hide the embarrassment and gave a faint nod.



“Thank you, Professor.” He whispered,



McGonagall coughed faintly to break the stillness of the awkward moment before standing.



“Yes well now I am going to order myself something to eat then we’ll just have to wait.” She said, going back over to the bar to tell Rosmerta what she wanted.



A few minutes later and she was back, sitting in front of him again and waiting for her food to be brought out. They said nothing, just waiting as Harry nursed his butterbeer slowly. McGonagall’s food was brought out and she began eating. They didn’t know the exact time that Hermione and Ron were going to start the plan, figuring it would be better if they just knew generals for now.



Harry tried to remain calm and casual, not wanting to seem uptight about anything. He glanced around the pub, his eyes landing on the two men from before. The one with dark hair was glaring darkly into space while his companion was sipping something that looked like expensive wine. He couldn’t get rid of the feeling that he knew the guy.



Trying to figure out just who this mystery man was, he watched him discretely out of the corner of his eye. He was almost through with his drink and McGonagall was finishing off her sandwich when the door slammed open, almost breaking the glass as Madam Hooch burst through.



Everyone jumped, looking to her startled. Her hair was wild from flying there from Hogwarts as fast as she could and her eyes wide with horror and worry. Harry almost felt sorry for causing her to be so upset but remained in his seat.



“Minerva! Minerva come quickly! A-a message from Arthur! It’s about Harry!” She said desperately.



This was their cue.



Professor McGonagall quickly stood, grabbing her hat and rushing towards her fellow teacher.



“I will return when I can, please watch over James for me!” she said to Rosmerta before disappearing out of the Three Broomsticks.



For a moment there was a long silence before the people in the room began talking quickly to one another, wondering what was going on and some rushing out to see if they could find out news on if the missing “Boy-who-lived” was back.



His breath left him and for a split second he couldn’t believe that it was happening. That it was actually working. That it was done.



Taking a shaky gasp he let his head fall back against the cushion of the booth and closed his eyes.



He was finally free.



Harry James Potter, son of Lilly and James Potter, the Boy-Who-Lived, the Savior of the Wizarding world…was dead.





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