Snape threw the knife he was holding at the wall where it stuck vibrating just feet from Harry. He looked up at Harry, a cruel sneer on his face. "Because you killed her," he growled out in frustration, causing Harry to jump in surprise.
"I what?!" Harry exclaimed, jumping up and backing to the door. "I haven't killed anyone!"
"My friend!" Snape glowered desperately. "Lily…she died because of you! I was never able to make up with her, because she died!"
Harry's stomach instantly seemed to fall from his body. It was what he'd secretly believed his entire life spoken from someone else's mouth. He'd killed her, his mother. He had no clue the professor had been friends with his mother, but those words, spoken in the venom of hate, hit Harry in the part of himself he tried to ignore, the part that was raised in a cupboard and told he was worthless his entire life. It didn't matter who'd said it; Harry already believed it. "Th…Thank you, professor," he gasped out suddenly. "Thank you for answering my questions. I won't talk to you again."
The man retrieved his knife from the wall and glared at his student. "I'll see you back at Hogwarts then," he coldly turned back to his brewing.
Harry stumbled out of the attic and down to his room in a daze. His mother and father were dead because of him, so was Cedric, so was whoever else Voldemort had killed because he'd stupidly been led into a trap to resurrect the Dark Lord. There was little to no thought put into it when Jamie fell to the bed and Harry tucked him in. He didn't analyze why he told the soulless shell goodbye or why he put extra owl treats in Hedwig's empty cage. The only thing he knew, was that he wasn't where he was supposed to be anymore. The Order was put together again because he'd messed up and Voldemort was back. They were fighting because of him. Sirius and Remus were in danger because of him, Graham and Malfoy didn't feel safe in their own homes, and muggleborns like Hermione were being targeted. Snape had opened the floodgates, and Harry felt it all wash over him. This was not where he was supposed to be, and he needed to leave.
The dementor stood hovering just outside of number 12 Grimmauld Place, having left in the shadows without anyone seeing him. Where was he supposed to be? Where could he atone for all he'd done? The answer came as almost a call on his soul. He thought he would have needed a map or at least a general direction, but he knew instinctively exactly where he was going. The shadows embraced Harry as he flew swiftly off to where the dementors belonged, to Azkaban Prison.
A couple things struck Harry as he approached the prison he was resigned to staying at the rest of his life. First of all, it actually wasn't that bad. It felt almost…homey. Second, dementors didn't actually all look the same. Yes, they all wore the same tattered robes, and they didn't have genders per se, but their auras were completely different. Several dementors started heading his way when he got close, one out front of the others. Harry steeled himself for whatever was about to happen.
The one dementor reached him first and blocked his path, crossing his skeletal arms and seeming to stare the newcomer down. "Well, it's about time. We've been waiting for you for months now!" The dementor huffed in irritation.
Harry looked at him in confusion. It only took a minute before he was absolutely certain this was the dementor who had originally sucked out his soul. "Hey, you just attacked me and left! What do you mean you've been waiting for me?! You ruined my life and went on with your business!"
The dementor flew rapidly up to invade his personal space, causing Harry to flinch back unconsciously. "I was instructed to eat your soul. You're lucky I only ate the parasite living on it. I could have taken both and left you for dead, plus I left you your body. What do you mean I ruined your life?! I turned you into a dementor! What's wrong with being a dementor?! You should be thanking me, ungrateful dunderhead!"
"Calm down, (untranslatable name of screeches)," another dementor instructed the one in front of Harry. Since the name was completely not translatable to English, Harry immediately decided to call the dementor Drake in his head since he was obviously a kindred spirit of Draco Malfoy's.
"What do you mean parasite on my soul?" Harry asked the group of dementors as a whole who were now hovering in a ring around him. "Why did you turn me into one of you?"
The new dementor who seemed to be in charge from his demeanor pushed Drake back some. "You had another soul parasitically living on yours. Our guess it that it must be a part of the Dark Lord's from when he tried to kill you as a baby. It tasted too good to not be from someone exceptionally evil. We tried to get it out of you when we were around the school two years ago, but you reacted badly every time we got near," the dementor who Harry decided to call King since he reminded Harry a lot of Kingsley Shacklebolt explained.
"You were trying to help me?" Harry gaped at them. He had just assumed they really, really thought his soul tasted good for some reason. He was horrified that he might have had a piece of Voldemort's soul living in him his entire life. He desperately hoped they were wrong about that.
"Idiot," Drake grumbled before King shot him a glare.
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