Requiem

Disclaimer: The settings and characters of Harry
Potter belongs to the talented J.K. Rowling. I do not know this lady from England
at all, nor do I claim these characters are mine in any way. There will be no
need for international lawsuits, since I am a flat broke otaku that just likes
to play with these characters. But, the original character is mine, though I
doubt anybody will want to steal it. XD

Feedback and Linkage: All feedbacks are welcomed! Feel
free to link the fic, but please do credit me or I will hunt you down. X3 You
do not want a pissed-off Pikachu on your tail. XD

 

Requiem
December 2005

This is my story. I’m writing it down before… Well, it really wouldn’t matter
who reads this in the future, but, I guess, even someone like me would want
to leave an imprint of life in this chaotic, unreasonable world. Something that
says that I have lived, and loved, and lost.

And a record of who he is, to me and only me, that is no one else’s.

I guess I should introduce who I am first, for those bored enough to break
the seal and read this. My name is Corvis, and I’m no one of importance in the
world. Never was, and probably never will be. Never knew my parents, the Matron
that took care of me died a long time ago, the orphanage I grew up in has been
destroyed for at least four decades already. All I did significantly was fall
in love with someone unattainable, and now that he’s gone, I’m leaving a note
before seeking out his killer. I guess… I want somebody to hear the story,
to know it, and maybe they will soon forget about it like yesterday’s news,
but at least someone would know. That’s all I could ask for, really.

There was always a line between us, him and I, from the start. Inevitable,
I guess, since I met him the first day I entered the large, stony gate of Hogwarts,
and he was the instructor who stood high and mighty in front of us little brats.
He wasn’t the great headmaster then—- There were many teachers who no longer
are around in Hogwarts nowadays —- so he sat off to the side, looking at us
forming two lines waiting to be sorted with an amused, warming gaze. The only
one, in fact, who looked at us not with annoyance or irritation, but with true,
genuine happiness.

I guess I fell for him then, even when I was not old enough to understand those
emotions.

All I knew was that I liked him, and while I didn’t have a choice in my first
year of what classes to take, I had painstakingly made myself enroll in every
one of the classes that he offered, as many as I could. I had no idea where
my obsession with him came from, and reflecting back now, it’s hard to believe
the courage I had to be so openly pursuing him in my own way, when the talk
within the dormatories never died down and people never got tired of teasing
me over it. It got better as we grew older, but I guess with teenage hormones
going and people falling in and out love with people their own age, my interest
in someone older certainly posed no threat. Interestingly enough, the boys were
giving me trouble while the girls were cheering me on… I guess, in a way,
they were ensuring that I was not one of the many competitors that they had
to worry about. When I was finally old enough to know the desire for someone
as a lover, as a life-long partner, I knew it was going to be him.

I took my time, and waited. He thought I was just an enthusiastic student and
was more than happy to give me an extra pointer or two when I stayed after class
to ask questions that I already knew the answers to, only to listen to him explain
the nature of the spells, the ingredients of a potion, or the history of certain
magicians and his or her accomplishments. I relished his deep, patient voice,
his wisdom and jokes, and generally being around him. It was all I could ask
for— as long as I remained a student and he remained a professor, I had no
choice in the matter. I would not jeopardize any chance of being with him, and
staying in Hogwarts was the only way at the time, and the last thing I wanted
to get him in trouble. So even though the Headmaster was suspicious of rumors
that were flying around, and he had more than once insinuated and implied the
question, he never had the chance of getting solid evidence or a confession
to prove my guilt.

Then it came time for the OWLs, where I was forced to limit myself from seeing
him as I prepared for the tests. I had gathered information that, as long as
I passed certain tests with Outstanding marks, I could enroll into his class
with no problem. Better yet, the ratio between students and teacher would lower
significantly, which suited me just fine. It came as no surprise that I aced
most of the areas that he taught, where the others I had deliberately failed
in order to lower my course load. Seeing how I had no adults in my life to interefere
with my decisions, I had no qualm in failing the classes I simply had no interest
in troubling myself over for my last two years at Hogwarts. There were always
books that I could study out of, and I overheard the other students’ conversations
enough to learn the subjects myself.

And as soon as I graduated (highest honor in Transfiguration, of course,)
I found him at The Three Broomsticks with no problem and told him. His expression
was that of surprise, yet somehow knowing, as he politely told me that he couldn’t
reciprocate the feeling, that I was always a student to him, and how I shouldn’t
waste my time on him and should venture to seek suitors of my own age— He
knows I never lacked any of those, even when they were merely annoyances to
me. Pained, I refused to give up, but I didn’t want to trouble him so much that
he would end up despising me. I worked and became friends with him. Around this
time, that I was recruited into the Ministry of Magic and became an Auror, how
my OWL tester knew I deliberately failed the tests I had no idea, but being
poor and homeless didn’t sound appealing to me. I didn’t have any job after
graduating Howarts— An expert in Transfiguration really couldn’t do much with
that specialty, and I hadn’t find a job that I wanted to keep either. It certainly
wouldn’t help me persue him, of course. Wanting nothing out of life but him,
I took the job, not knowing that the next time I saw him would be when he was
inaugurated into the position of Headmaster.

We had a long talk that night after the party died down, where I told him that
my mind had never changed when he asked if I had found anyone significant. Again,
he refused me, telling me that he couldn’t have me even if he wanted, because
we have about two hundred years between us, and how I could have anybody I wanted,
not some old goblin like him.

I gave into my impulses, and hexed him with a minor spell angrily before storming
out of his room, letting him go meet with his students first day as Headmaster
with a black eye.

For twenty years we have not seen each other. He wrote to me a couple of times
that I refused to respond, but it wasn’t hard for him to gather information
about me, and vice versa. So when I was injured severely and hospitalized, with
my face destroyed and no hope of healing at all, he was the first one that I
saw when I opened my one good eye, my other completely blown away. I guess I
was lucky— the three other Aurors I was with died in the explosion, their
bits and pieces could hardly be found. He looked exhausted when I woke up, his
hair a mess and so was his long beard. Dark circles under his eyes made me frown,
and the gesture had me hissing in pain that alerted him. For the first time
that I’ve known him, he raved and ranted uncontrollably, waving madly as he
paced about next to the bed, saying how stupid I am to face Lord Voldemort with
only three other Aurors, and that I was lucky to have survived, even when my
heart stopped twice in the emergency room and 80% of my body was burnt to a
crisp. And when tears flowed from my one good eye, he stopped and spoke to me
softly, comforting me with meaningless words while wiping away the tears. When
even one as wise as he thought that I was crying because of my maimed look and
my disability, possibly paralyzed for the rest of my life, all I could think
of was that he wouldn’t want me anymore, not when I looked more horrid than
a piece of Dementor.

Several days later, he came back in the middle of the night, sneaking past
the orderlies and woke me up violently. He fed me a vial of potion without explaining
what it was, and I didn’t care. Even if it were a poison, I would have happily
drunk it at the time. Heaven knew that it was to be worse than poison, one that
shattered my life and my perspective forever.

In a month I was declared completely healed as the massive amount of bandaging
was removed, demummifying me as I breathed freely for the first time in a long
while. However, when both of my eyes landed on the awe-struck healer’s face,
I knew something was wrong. By no means was I young anymore— wizards may live
a longer lifespan than most, and age slower, but youth was like the golden snitch,
passing by fast and furiously. I should have looked like my age, someone in
their late thirties, but instead I looked as if I had just graduated from Hogwarts.
Every inch of my skin, charred and uncharred, was repaired back to its youthfulness,
and the wrinkles and frown lines from reading too much paperwork and too much
time spent drowning myself in work so I wouldn’t have to think about him were
gone.

I looked… horrifyingly young.

When I returned to the Ministry, an investigation was obviously conducted to
see what kind of potion was used to create such illegal effect, and who was
it that administered it. The interrogation went on for days, but of course I
divulged nothing. I was, of course, fired from the Ministry, and I missed not
a second of it. He came and visited me as I was packing and moving out of the
two-storey house that my salary allowed me to afford, and wordlessly helped
me to put my mountains of books and otherwise living necessities into boxes.
He offered me ajob at Hogwarts— the teaching position of Defense of the Dark
Arts, which I refused without him finishing the sentence. When he asked with
mild frustration why I would refuse the job, I simply told him that it was enough
to know he didn’t want me and I could hide far away enough to pretend I still
have hopes. But to know that and be so near to him would be torturous.

He left, calling me a hopeless idiot. And I called him a stubborn fool.

I ended up getting a job somewhere south of England, a joint where wild elves
and other magical creatures often collide with muggles, and was hired by the
wizards and witches who were tired of cleaning up the mess left by those creatures
to patrol and clean up after them. I changed my name, erased my past, and made
up stories after stories to create a believable lie to be accepted into the
small community. I tried my best to forget about him, even went out with a couple
of young, single wizards within the community, but something was always missing.
In the end, I concluded that I would live a life of celibacy and that would
be just fine. There wasn’t much I wanted out of life anyway.

Considering I got free housing, a small, two bedroom hut on the outskirts of
the Wizarding town, closer proximity to the muggles, and even money for my simple
work, I really couldn’t complain much. Most of my coins were spent on books,
my owls usually have to work together to bring back my orders. Life isn’t too
bad living in the rural area. I made a few friends, the old witches enjoyed
treating me as if their grandchild, and old wizards told me tales and stories
that I have heard at least a dozen times by the third month. Most of the occupants
were either too old to work, or too young to go to one of the three wizard schools.
Most of the wizard and witch’s sons and daughters left for the big city for
work, and the kids were mostly orphans from the orphanage that hosts many victims
from Voldemort’s terror. My job was to watch the muggle community nearby for
anything “strange”, also known as magical creatures stepping into
territories not belonging to them, and put an end to it before any chaos could
erupt and change a few memories here and there. I also watched over the kids
in the orphanage, helping the single old matron witch that often couldn’t remember
where she left the kids last, and lit the street lamps that the muggles made
between the two towns the muggle way (with a torch, how horrid) every night.

And one moonless day, he showed up just as I was preparing my nightly walk
from the muggle town back home, torch in one hand and a stack of muggle science
books in another. He took the books from my hands and walked me home silently,
our only exchange was the good bye that he said before he left. After that,
every month when it was new moon, he would come and walk me home. We always
talked quietly to each other, discussing the latest news on the Daily Prophet
and the Times, updating him on some small, yet maybe important muggle news that
he should be aware of. Most of the time, however, we simply enjoyed each other’s
silent company. When he couldn’t make it, an owl would always come with a short
note that told me why he couldn’t come, and I would carefully put the notes
away in a drawer.

It may not be much, but I was content.

Then one night, not our usual night, he apparated into my living room in a
hurry. I stood up from my seat by the fireplace, my book fell to the wooden
floor with a thud as I rushed to him. Smoke came from his blackened hand as
he smiled weakly and waved it off as nothing. I had him sit as I gathered a
first-aid kit, and treated this obviously hexed hand a little to stop the pain.

“There is a war coming,” he said after watching me work.

“There always is,” I said off-handedly, torn between fighting the
tears off from listening to the hissing from his hand as potions were applied
carefully and the murderous rage I felt towards whoever did this to him.

He chuckled as he sipped the butterbeer I got for him with shaky hand, and
put the mug down gently on the side table. “It’s escalating now. Tom is
quite determined, rushing to regroup and succeeding at it as well.”

I frowned. I may be the only person who has survived from Voldemort’s attack,
aside from Albus, though indirect as I was not the target, still able to call
him by name instead of the “You-know-who” nickname that everyone dubbed
the devil-incarnate egomaniac. “The Death Eaters still follow him even
when he was defeated nearly seventeen years ago?”

“Mm, apparently,” he said, finishing the butterbeer as he stood just
when I finished bandaging his hand, “I must return to Hogwarts now. I can’t
stay long….”

I stood with him, and smiled softly, “I understand. Go. They need you.”

Pausing to fix his hat, he turned and looked at me, and bent down, placing
a kiss on my forehead. My eyes widened at his gesture, never in my life did
I consider he would do that, even when one could easily interpret that as a
friendly, even fatherly kiss. I clutched tightly at his robe, wishing the time
would stop, and whispered my love to him once more. This time, he didn’t say
anything.

“I won’t be able to come for a while,” he said, pulling away slowly.
“Take good care of yourself.”

Nodding, I knew that even if I wanted to go with him, I couldn’t. There were
people depending on me now, the children and the seniors, and just like he has
Hogwarts to protect, I have my own people to shield as well.

“Be careful….” I whispered, fisting my hands so I wouldn’t pull
his robe and not let him go. He smiled, and nodded, before disappearing in front
of my eyes.

I received no news from him for months, and I was too busy myself to notice
how time had fled from our fingertips. Minerva would slip me a note every now
and then, her writing getting more and more messy each note, a sign that things
weren’t looking so bright in Hogwarts. She was the only one that truly supported
me when she found out about my feelings for him. A few years ahead of me, we
shared one Transfiguration class before she graduated and had been contacting
each other on and off through the decades, though our relationship migrated
from acquaintances and classmates to friends only lately. She was, perhaps,
the only one that truly understood how I felt about him, and I trust no one
but her to share my feelings. From her notes, I gathered that the he was trying
to collect all of the horcruxes by himself. I wrote to Minerva at length when
I had the time, begging her to make him take someone with him. I would have
gone had the Death Eaters not been attacking this village, searching for some
things that Voldemort wanted and killing children unnecessarily, and I couldn’t
desert my duty to help him. He wouldn’t have wanted that anyway.

After months of defending the little town that, for some reason, attracted
much attention from the Death Eaters, I earned a horrifying scar on my back
and a mild limp that hopefully could heal in time. Then, out of the blue, the
Death Eaters stopped attacking. We waited for a week, still on high alert, before
I resumed my regular task. It felt extremely lonely when I knew he would have
been here to help me and walk me home, if only he could. The night was exceptionally
lonely when it was the night of the new moon, when the fog seemed even thicker
and the wind even colder. As I walked slowly down the street, lighting the lamps
using my torch, the darkness in front seemed nearly endless, even though I was
about halfway done. A strong gust whipped the land suddenly, and before I knew
it, the lamps that I had lighted were out completely. Blinking, I couldn’t comprehend
such phenomenon yet, and I heard him calling. Turning, he was there, a couple
feet away from me, smiling.

He raised his hand before I could run to him, ::No further.::

“Albus….?” I whispered, fearing what I felt was true.

::Corvid… Forgive me. I was a coward.::

“No,” I shook my head furiously, my eyes never leaving him. “Tell
me this is a lie. Don’t play with me, Albus.”

::Help me rebuild Hogwarts. Help the students. Promise me.::

“No….” my voice was nothing but a choked whisper, “Don’t be
cruel to me, Albus. Don’t…..”

::Promise me.::

I found myself nodding, my vision getting blurry. He smiled again, and disappeared.
Not caring if the muggles saw me, I waved my wand once violently and lit the
entire road before apparating myself to Hogwarts, a place I have not step foot
in for decades. I watched in the shadow near the forbidden forest as the entire
school seemed to have flooded out of their dorms, yet the schoolground was deadly
silent. Then, the students began to get pushed back like a sea of ants seeing
fire, and slowly, order was retained as I staggered slowly forward. Glances
of caution, of curiosity, and of wonder settled upon me, and I merely pushed
past the students as I focused on that one single person I cared the most about—
The one that sat by the wall, his eyes closed tightly, a large, gaping wound
on his chest. A hand grabbed my arm tightly, and I turned, finding Minerva watching
me sadly and worriedly.

“Come, Corvid. Hagrid will take him and you can see him there,” she
said, though her voice was more of a buzz. Only her surprisingly strong grip
prevented me from taking him away from Hagrid, someone whom I have never met
before, but have heard about him from Albus several times. Minerva pulled me
with her as she barked orders to students in an attempt to get them back to
their dorms, and in a daze, I was forcefully sat into a large, plush chair in
her room, and a cup of hot tea pushed into my hands. “Don’t move. I will
be right back, but I want you to stay in here until I come for you.”

I didn’t know if I nodded or not, but Minerva left after wrapping a thick cloak
around me, and locked the door just in case. It seemed like an eternity as I
sat there, trembling and trying my best to hold the tears. She came back sometime
later, and guided me to the infirmary where he laid on the bed, devoid of dirt
and grime, the hole in the middle of his chest repaired. He looked as if he
was just fast asleep, a small smile graced his lips, his hands crossed and placed
on his chest.

“Madam Pomfrey, let’s give them some time,” I heard Minerva said
as she let go of my arm. I staggered slowly, the limp in my knee even more painful
now, and finally made it to his bedside. I sat in the single chair there, and
brushed away the snow white hair that grew too long.

“I’ve never seen you asleep…..” I whispered, and he of course did
not answer. His words still rang in my ears, I found my voice getting louder
and louder, eventually screaming as I cried, hitting him repeatedly. Nothing
I did could bring more harm to him. “You cruel, cowardly bastard… How
could you? I can’t…. Just because you’re a coward doesn’t give you the right
to deny my wish! You always deny my wish…”

It took all Minerva’s powers to calmed me down. In the end, she held me tightly,
letting me cry to my heart’s content, until I exhausted myself. She arranged
the funeral meticulously, despite being emotionally wrecked as well. Not caring
what the other faculty would say or how it would look to the world, she had
me sit next to her during the funeral and held my hands throughout. I was immobilized
during the event, and just watched as more and more dirt was thrown onto the
coffin until he was completely covered.

Minerva pulled me up when the place was almost deserted, except for two boys
and a girl that stood off to the side, whispering to themselves. “… Are
you all right?” she asked me.

I shook my head. “I don’t know.” I answered honestly. “I can’t
feel anything.”

Minerva frowned, but said nothing. My eyes drifted to the trio off to the side,
the only students that were still in the area. “….Who are they?”
I found myself asking.

She followed my gaze, and took a deep breath before answering gravely. “…Harry
Potter, Ron Weasley, and Hermione Granger.”

“The boy…. that Albus died protecting?”

“Ah,” she nodded reluctantly.

As the three kids started to walk away, I said to Minerva, though mostly to
myself. “….He made me promise him to rebuild Hogwarts…… Would it
be okay if I… do something I need to do first?”

Her eyes widened slightly, before she sighed, “….Don’t get yourself
killed.”

I chuckled slightly, my eyes fixed on the child that Albus believed to be the
only one to able kill Voldemort. “I can’t promise that.”

With that, I transfigured into the shape I favor the most, a large raven with
white tail feathers, and disappeared from her vision. I couldn’t care less about
who will kill Voldemort, but Severus Snape— the man that directly caused Albus’
death, would be mine.

Then, if I survive, I will honor the promise I made to him, though if I don’t,
I won’t be too sad about it.

 

The After Scroll: That was a lame name for Author’s Mewling…
ANYWAY! XD My very first Harry Potter fic! O_O I broke my own rule (but, quoting
Seifer, rules are made to be broken. ^^) of not writing any fanfiction until
the series is completely done. But this dream hit me and I couldn’t rest until
this fic is done, so my strict rule was broken. T_T Oh well, at least I like
how this fic turned out. X3 Now I can go back to Tarnished Rhapsody
and hopefully finish one chapter this month since it’s winter break, even though
I need to study for 2 hard tests that will happen in the first week of January.
*cry* That chapter is stuck at a point where I -KNOW- what I want to happen,
but I’m not getting the feel of putting it into words. Damn. >< Hopefully
this fic will be my bounce back and get my dormant creative juice going. ^_^

Thank you in advance for all of the feedbacks! &hearts;