Almost Here: A Spooks fic
I am as repetitive as clock work ;)
Title: Almost Here
Genre Crossover fic (Harry Potter and Spooks), multi chapter fic, supernatural themed
Spoilers: For all of Harry Potter and Spooks
Characters: Ruth Evershed, some other guest Spook appearances, Dumbledore
Rating: PG for themes to do with death?
Word Count 1500 words approx
Disclaimer: I DO NOT own Harry Potter. This is J.K Rowling's intellectual property. Nor do I own Ruth or anyone else from Spooks. Kudos does. No matter how much I wish they didn't after the nihilistic finale.
Notes So I realise this is a weird fic premise but just try it out ok... I want to make a more hopeful ending than spooks could give me in canon so I decided what better than some wisdom from Dumbledore ;) The quotes quoted from The Deathly Hallows are from p.p. 578-9.
Harry's face was beginning to fade. It was so very, very cold, harder and harder to hold on to reality. She felt her eyes flutter close. She couldn't breathe.
But then the weight felt as though it was lifted from her chest and she felt lighter. She could see her body below her. Harry kissing her dead lips. There was a white mist all around her, it billowed and plucked at her silvery form.
It was growing harder to remember things. Who was that man and that woman in the grass by the sea. Who were they at all to her? Had they ever mattered? And then a thought bade her move forward, to leave them behind, to journey up higher. Soon she couldn't see the couple at all.
The white mist obscured everything. Everything but the elderly man walking towards her, a smile on his face as he stretched his arms out towards her.
"My dear. Oh my dear. Welcome. Welcome."
She looked down at her body. It looked more solid again. She found she could touch his hands. Still feel them.
"Where am I? Who are you"
"You're in between." She noticed he had deep, blue eyes filled with compassion, and the longest silvery beard she had ever seen. He was wearing a grey cloak that dropped at his feet. He looked, she thought, to be very old and very wise.
"Walk with me," he said gravely.
She obeyed him without thought.
As they walked she noticed the silver mist was convalescing into something. Here there was a dome and there a bridge and through it all a grey river, and benches by its side. The memories were re-forming. She remembered London.
Incorporeal tears fell. There was infinite sadness in the old man's eyes. They were deep. So deep. Instinctively Ruth knew he had suffered too.
"I'm sorry. It is always painful to be forced to dwell on the past, especially when your future is taken from you before your time."
"I loved him so much. And yet we were never meant to have those things. Never. I wasn't brave enough, wasn't strong enough to love him before our time was up."
"You asked me who I am. My name is Albus Dumbledore; former Head Master of Hogwart's School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, come to greet you on the other side." The abruptness shocked her.
She stared at him. Decided she didn't care for him. Tried to swoop down to the bench that she and Harry had loved so much, but Albus caught her hand in his and held her up amongst the mist.
***
And then...they were sitting on the bench. Albus was wrapping his silvery beard thoughtfully around his finger. "People always find themselves in the place that meant the most to them. Does that surprise you?"
She didn't answer. She could see Harry sitting on the bench right next to him. She began to laugh, reaching out to touch his hand. He ignored her. The expression on Harry's face was terrible, ravaged and lined by grief.
Dumbledore sighed. "We're in between."
She was shouting now. "What do you mean? You heartless bastard. I love that man. That man there. Right next to you. Love him with all of my being and he can't see or hear me. Why not? Why the bloody hell not?" She was crying incorporeal tears again.
He sighed. "You are dead Ruth. But death is not the end. All of the greatest wizards always knew that. Death is simply a beginning."
"I don't care!" she raged, "I want Harry to be here with me." She was too angry to even ask him about why he was referring to himself as a 'wizard.'
"He can't," Dumbledore said flatly. "He is alive and we are not."
"Then this is the very worst kind of torture."
Dumbledore moved his spectacles down to the bridge of his nose, reminding her of her sixth form maths teacher after you had made a very obvious mistake. "Only if you let it be."
"I can't leave Harry. What would it all have been for? Nothing mattered. I didn't matter. Our love didn't matter. The world goes on."
Dumbledore was smiling. "And that is where you are wrong my dear Evershed. Love. Love means everything. It is far better to have loved, than to have never loved at all. But come. It is far better to illustrate my point with a story than demand you believe me. And then I must take you to someone who has waited a long time to see you again."
Her hands clawed into the bench slats. "No. I won't leave. I'll stay here."
"Then you will never be at peace my child. All of us have a choice. We can linger and haunt and dream of what might have been. Or we can love life for what it was to us and put it away. It does not do well to dwell on what has passed. Only on what will become."
"But I'm dead. It's the end of the road."
"Ruth- you don't really believe that surely? There was always something greater. Beyond."
She was silent for a long time. "I don't know. In my job I always thought I was working towards the greater good. But look where that got my friends. Look where that got me."
"Listen, Ruth."
She laughed bitterly. "Why should I old man?"
"My name is Albus. I am, or was, a wizard."
"There's no such thing as witches and wizards."
His eyes twinkled behind his half moon spectacles. "There is you know. Living here. Alongside people like yourself."
"Even if I accept that you are not mad and that everything you say is true, why does it matter. This story of yours?"
"Let me tell it and you can judge for yourself." He didn't wait for her inevitable protest. "There was a wizard in our world who tried to conquer death. He split his soul into pieces. Just to defeat death. He was power hungry. He killed, murdered, maimed and all because he wanted people to think and act like him, to bend to his will. All because this wizard never knew, never could understand love. Some of us tried to fight him, but others did not. They knew that it was the right thing to do, but they chose instead, to do what was easy."
"I believe in my job. I believed in it every damned day. But the price was so high."
"You sound very young Ruth." He pulled out a piece of wood from his robe, twirled it and placed it against his temple. A strand of something emerged from its tip. He held the white strand in his fingertips...
***
And they were in an office. There was a glass cabinet in the corner. Dumbledore opened it and inside there was a basin. He placed the strand of white mist into the basin, swirled it with his wand.
"Come closer Ruth. Look into the pensieve. See my memory."
She obeyed. There was a power about him in this room that she didn't dare disobey. She gazed into the white inside the basin, and began to be pulled downwards, falling or so she thought, into more white mist, and King's Cross Station.
Dumbledore was walking with a teenager. He had black hair (scruffy) and green eyes and a lightning bolt scar down his forehead. Ruth wondered how he'd earnt it.
He was talking to the boy. "Do not pity the dead Harry. Pity the living, and above all those who live without love. By returning, you may ensure that fewer souls are maimed, fewer families are torn apart. If that seems to you a worthy goal, then we say goodbye for the present."
Ruth couldn't help it. Suddenly she was remembering them all; Tom and Danny and Zoe, Colin and Malcolm and Sam, Adam and Ros, Jo and Zaf, Tariq and Beth and even poor, confused Lucas. Why had she stuck with that job? Why had any of them? Because they had believed it was right to do so. It was right to protect the innocent. They had abandoned the easy route, and chosen instead, to die for what was right.
She heard the boy, Harry, say something more. "Is this real? Or has this been happening inside my head?"
"Of course it is happening inside your head, Harry. But why on earth should that mean it is any less real."
And with a rush she was back in the misty office with Dumbledore.
He smiled at her. "You had a hard life Ruth. But you died for what you believed in. For love and sacrifice and bravery. There is always more good in this world than bad Ruth. Never forget that."
"But... if I am dead why am I here?"
"Not everyone finds it so easy to board a train."
***
And they were in King's Cross once more. There was a steam train at the platform. She looked up at the platform sign above her head, even as the train's whistle blew insistently. Platform nine and three quarters. How odd.
Dumbledore was serious again. "Try to board Ruth. You have to try this for yourself."
She tried to block thoughts of Harry still alive and ever so lonely out of her mind. She took a deep breath and stepped forward, putting a hand out to open the carriage door... but she couldn't do it. With a whoosh of noise she was propelled backwards, firmly pushed onto the platform.
The tears fell freely. "Am I to never have any peace?"
"You've got to learn to hope again Ruth. Learn to believe in miracles. Then you can move on."
"How? How do I change now? In case you've forgotten... I'm dead!"
"I said before there was somebody waiting to meet you. He is here, even now, as we speak."
There was a movement further down the platform. As the figure strode closer to Ruth and Dumbledore she thought she recognised his young face, his proud features, his comforting smile.
"Danny," she laughed, running down the platform towards him, arms outstretched. "Danny!"
She collided with him, but he was solid and she could touch him, put her arms around him. He, at least, was real.
He was laughing himself as she clung to him tightly. "Oh Ruth. I've missed you. Deep down, you always were, to the last, bonkers but brilliant."
Title: Almost Here
Genre Crossover fic (Harry Potter and Spooks), multi chapter fic, supernatural themed
Spoilers: For all of Harry Potter and Spooks
Characters: Ruth Evershed, some other guest Spook appearances, Dumbledore
Rating: PG for themes to do with death?
Word Count 1500 words approx
Disclaimer: I DO NOT own Harry Potter. This is J.K Rowling's intellectual property. Nor do I own Ruth or anyone else from Spooks. Kudos does. No matter how much I wish they didn't after the nihilistic finale.
Notes So I realise this is a weird fic premise but just try it out ok... I want to make a more hopeful ending than spooks could give me in canon so I decided what better than some wisdom from Dumbledore ;) The quotes quoted from The Deathly Hallows are from p.p. 578-9.
Harry's face was beginning to fade. It was so very, very cold, harder and harder to hold on to reality. She felt her eyes flutter close. She couldn't breathe.
But then the weight felt as though it was lifted from her chest and she felt lighter. She could see her body below her. Harry kissing her dead lips. There was a white mist all around her, it billowed and plucked at her silvery form.
It was growing harder to remember things. Who was that man and that woman in the grass by the sea. Who were they at all to her? Had they ever mattered? And then a thought bade her move forward, to leave them behind, to journey up higher. Soon she couldn't see the couple at all.
The white mist obscured everything. Everything but the elderly man walking towards her, a smile on his face as he stretched his arms out towards her.
"My dear. Oh my dear. Welcome. Welcome."
She looked down at her body. It looked more solid again. She found she could touch his hands. Still feel them.
"Where am I? Who are you"
"You're in between." She noticed he had deep, blue eyes filled with compassion, and the longest silvery beard she had ever seen. He was wearing a grey cloak that dropped at his feet. He looked, she thought, to be very old and very wise.
"Walk with me," he said gravely.
She obeyed him without thought.
As they walked she noticed the silver mist was convalescing into something. Here there was a dome and there a bridge and through it all a grey river, and benches by its side. The memories were re-forming. She remembered London.
Incorporeal tears fell. There was infinite sadness in the old man's eyes. They were deep. So deep. Instinctively Ruth knew he had suffered too.
"I'm sorry. It is always painful to be forced to dwell on the past, especially when your future is taken from you before your time."
"I loved him so much. And yet we were never meant to have those things. Never. I wasn't brave enough, wasn't strong enough to love him before our time was up."
"You asked me who I am. My name is Albus Dumbledore; former Head Master of Hogwart's School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, come to greet you on the other side." The abruptness shocked her.
She stared at him. Decided she didn't care for him. Tried to swoop down to the bench that she and Harry had loved so much, but Albus caught her hand in his and held her up amongst the mist.
***
And then...they were sitting on the bench. Albus was wrapping his silvery beard thoughtfully around his finger. "People always find themselves in the place that meant the most to them. Does that surprise you?"
She didn't answer. She could see Harry sitting on the bench right next to him. She began to laugh, reaching out to touch his hand. He ignored her. The expression on Harry's face was terrible, ravaged and lined by grief.
Dumbledore sighed. "We're in between."
She was shouting now. "What do you mean? You heartless bastard. I love that man. That man there. Right next to you. Love him with all of my being and he can't see or hear me. Why not? Why the bloody hell not?" She was crying incorporeal tears again.
He sighed. "You are dead Ruth. But death is not the end. All of the greatest wizards always knew that. Death is simply a beginning."
"I don't care!" she raged, "I want Harry to be here with me." She was too angry to even ask him about why he was referring to himself as a 'wizard.'
"He can't," Dumbledore said flatly. "He is alive and we are not."
"Then this is the very worst kind of torture."
Dumbledore moved his spectacles down to the bridge of his nose, reminding her of her sixth form maths teacher after you had made a very obvious mistake. "Only if you let it be."
"I can't leave Harry. What would it all have been for? Nothing mattered. I didn't matter. Our love didn't matter. The world goes on."
Dumbledore was smiling. "And that is where you are wrong my dear Evershed. Love. Love means everything. It is far better to have loved, than to have never loved at all. But come. It is far better to illustrate my point with a story than demand you believe me. And then I must take you to someone who has waited a long time to see you again."
Her hands clawed into the bench slats. "No. I won't leave. I'll stay here."
"Then you will never be at peace my child. All of us have a choice. We can linger and haunt and dream of what might have been. Or we can love life for what it was to us and put it away. It does not do well to dwell on what has passed. Only on what will become."
"But I'm dead. It's the end of the road."
"Ruth- you don't really believe that surely? There was always something greater. Beyond."
She was silent for a long time. "I don't know. In my job I always thought I was working towards the greater good. But look where that got my friends. Look where that got me."
"Listen, Ruth."
She laughed bitterly. "Why should I old man?"
"My name is Albus. I am, or was, a wizard."
"There's no such thing as witches and wizards."
His eyes twinkled behind his half moon spectacles. "There is you know. Living here. Alongside people like yourself."
"Even if I accept that you are not mad and that everything you say is true, why does it matter. This story of yours?"
"Let me tell it and you can judge for yourself." He didn't wait for her inevitable protest. "There was a wizard in our world who tried to conquer death. He split his soul into pieces. Just to defeat death. He was power hungry. He killed, murdered, maimed and all because he wanted people to think and act like him, to bend to his will. All because this wizard never knew, never could understand love. Some of us tried to fight him, but others did not. They knew that it was the right thing to do, but they chose instead, to do what was easy."
"I believe in my job. I believed in it every damned day. But the price was so high."
"You sound very young Ruth." He pulled out a piece of wood from his robe, twirled it and placed it against his temple. A strand of something emerged from its tip. He held the white strand in his fingertips...
***
And they were in an office. There was a glass cabinet in the corner. Dumbledore opened it and inside there was a basin. He placed the strand of white mist into the basin, swirled it with his wand.
"Come closer Ruth. Look into the pensieve. See my memory."
She obeyed. There was a power about him in this room that she didn't dare disobey. She gazed into the white inside the basin, and began to be pulled downwards, falling or so she thought, into more white mist, and King's Cross Station.
Dumbledore was walking with a teenager. He had black hair (scruffy) and green eyes and a lightning bolt scar down his forehead. Ruth wondered how he'd earnt it.
He was talking to the boy. "Do not pity the dead Harry. Pity the living, and above all those who live without love. By returning, you may ensure that fewer souls are maimed, fewer families are torn apart. If that seems to you a worthy goal, then we say goodbye for the present."
Ruth couldn't help it. Suddenly she was remembering them all; Tom and Danny and Zoe, Colin and Malcolm and Sam, Adam and Ros, Jo and Zaf, Tariq and Beth and even poor, confused Lucas. Why had she stuck with that job? Why had any of them? Because they had believed it was right to do so. It was right to protect the innocent. They had abandoned the easy route, and chosen instead, to die for what was right.
She heard the boy, Harry, say something more. "Is this real? Or has this been happening inside my head?"
"Of course it is happening inside your head, Harry. But why on earth should that mean it is any less real."
And with a rush she was back in the misty office with Dumbledore.
He smiled at her. "You had a hard life Ruth. But you died for what you believed in. For love and sacrifice and bravery. There is always more good in this world than bad Ruth. Never forget that."
"But... if I am dead why am I here?"
"Not everyone finds it so easy to board a train."
***
And they were in King's Cross once more. There was a steam train at the platform. She looked up at the platform sign above her head, even as the train's whistle blew insistently. Platform nine and three quarters. How odd.
Dumbledore was serious again. "Try to board Ruth. You have to try this for yourself."
She tried to block thoughts of Harry still alive and ever so lonely out of her mind. She took a deep breath and stepped forward, putting a hand out to open the carriage door... but she couldn't do it. With a whoosh of noise she was propelled backwards, firmly pushed onto the platform.
The tears fell freely. "Am I to never have any peace?"
"You've got to learn to hope again Ruth. Learn to believe in miracles. Then you can move on."
"How? How do I change now? In case you've forgotten... I'm dead!"
"I said before there was somebody waiting to meet you. He is here, even now, as we speak."
There was a movement further down the platform. As the figure strode closer to Ruth and Dumbledore she thought she recognised his young face, his proud features, his comforting smile.
"Danny," she laughed, running down the platform towards him, arms outstretched. "Danny!"
She collided with him, but he was solid and she could touch him, put her arms around him. He, at least, was real.
He was laughing himself as she clung to him tightly. "Oh Ruth. I've missed you. Deep down, you always were, to the last, bonkers but brilliant."