No Fortress Is So Strong, Chapter 17, Epilogue
Title: No Fortress Is So Strong
Summary: In 1981, the two Potter sons had their fates switched, and Nicolas Potter became a famous face. But there are those who know the truth, that the real Chosen One was the younger child. The Slytherin. Now, two brothers share a destiny.
Disclaimer: This story is based on characters and situations created and owned by JK Rowling, various publishers including but not limited to Bloomsbury Books, Scholastic Books and Raincoast Books, and Warner Brothers. Inc. No money is being made and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended.
Notes & Caveats: This is a rewrite of the fanfiction story Slytherin Serpent. The premise was originally thought up in 2004, rewritten in 2006, and rewritten again in 2009. This is the only complete version.
This chapter is as yet unbeta’ed for spelling, grammar, and brit-picking. I apologize for this in advance. If you spot any error, no matter how small, please tell me in a review so that I can fix it.
Many thanks to Micah, who examined this story for plot and continuity errors.
“When brothers agree, no fortress is so strong as their common life.” ~Antisthenes
-----
Epilogue
-----
Harry struggled against the heavy darkness and tried to open his eyes. They felt like lead, but there was something…he had to do something. There was something he was forgetting.
Something about a mirror, and his brother…
Nicolas!
Harry came awake with a gasp, and his eyes flew open. He blinked, and then he blinked again.
There was a bearded, smiling face above him.
“Professor Dumbledore,” Harry said, and was surprised when his voice came out scratchy and hoarse. Harry blinked, then remembered. He shot into an upright position, nearly head-butting Dumbledore in the nose, already searching despite the lack of glasses on his face.
“Nicolas,” he cried, and moved to stand up.
“Calm yourself, dear boy,” Dumbledore said soothingly. “You are a bit behind the times. Nicolas is quite all right - in fact, I do believe he is lurking by the doorway right at this moment, hoping to come inside.”
Harry spun his head around, and sure enough there was Nicolas, peeking in sheepishly.
“Come in, Nicolas,” Dumbledore said, and Nick wasted no time rushing into the Hospital Wing and jumping on his brother’s bed. Harry leaned over and wrapped his arms around Nick’s ribs, hiding his face in his brother’s jumper, and Nick’s arms came around his shoulders, squeezing tightly.
“Nicolas has told me what has been happening right under my nose,” Dumbledore said, and Harry pulled back in time to see Nick blush bright red. “I must say,” Dumbledore continued, “that I am most impressed at how you two managed, with the help of your friends, to get things so completely wrong and so completely correct at the same time.”
“Oh,” Harry said. “So, er, there was no Stone?”
“Oh, there was a Stone,” Dumbledore said. “It’s called the Philosopher’s Stone, and it’s an ancient alchemy recipe perfected by my friend Nicolas Flamel. It is a very interesting stone - very rare, as there is only one in existence. It contains the ability to turn any metal into pure gold, which would make it extremely valuable on its own…but it also has the ability to make the Elixir of Life, which is why Voldemort wanted it so very badly.”
“It would have brought him back?” Harry asked curiously. “I thought he was dead…but that was him, wasn’t it?”
“He was horrible,” Nick whispered, shifting uncomfortably. “I’ve never been so scared in my life.”
“Yes, that was indeed Lord Voldemort,” Dumbledore explained. “I have never believed him to be entirely dead. You see, Voldemort undertook many black magic rituals in his pursuit of immortality. One of these clearly paid off. He has been existing - barely - as a pale imitation of a spirit, ever since he was torn from his body that night your parents died.”
Harry wasn’t sure what to think about that.
“But he didn’t get it,” Nick said. “The Mirror gave it to me, Harry - and he would have gotten it but you didn’t let him.”
“You have it then, sir?” Harry asked in relief.
“No, Harry,” Dumbledore said. “The Stone has been destroyed.”
Nick’s jaw dropped. He clearly hadn’t known that.
“But Nicolas Flamel,” Harry whispered. “Won’t he die?”
“He and his wife Perenelle have enough Elixir stored to put their affairs in order, and then yes, they will die.”
Nick and Harry stared.
“To boys as young as you two, I’m sure it seems incredible, but to Perenelle and Nicolas Flamel, it really is like going to bed after a very, very long day. After all, to the well-organized mind, death is but the next great adventure. You know, the Philosopher’s Stone was really not such a wonderful thing. As much life and money as one could want! The two things most humans would choose above all, but the trouble is, most humans seem to have a knack for choosing precisely those things that are worst for them.”
Harry and Nick sat there for a long time, lost for words, and Dumbledore stared at the ceiling and hummed gently.
“We thought it was the Resurrection Stone,” Harry said, flushing. Dumbledore chuckled.
“Yes, a remarkably good guess, all things considered. Like I said, you got most of your facts wrong - except for Quirrell’s involvement - but you somehow worked out how to do exactly the right thing in spite of that.”
“But we didn’t do anything, really,” Nick said. “I mean, You-Know-Who’s still out there. He’ll come back one day, won’t he?”
“Call him Voldemort, Nicolas,” Dumbledore chastised. Always use the proper name for things. Fear of a name increases fear of the thing itself.”
“Voldemort,” Nick said obediently. “He’ll come back, won’t he?”
“Who knows?” Dumbledore asked. “He may be delayed again, and again, and he may never return to a full life of power and strength. However, not being truly alive, he cannot be killed, and he shows just as little mercy to his followers as he does to his enemies. He left Quirrell to die, you know. Quirrell did not survive Voldemort leaving his body, for his system had become so dependent on Voldemort’s spirit that it could not function without it.”
Harry and Nick nodded, although it made Harry’s head hurt so he stopped very quickly.
“Sir,” Nick said. “Voldemort said he only killed our mum because she was trying to stop him killing us. But why would he want to kill us in the first place?”
“Alas, I am afraid I cannot answer that,” Dumbledore said. “Not today. One day, however, I will tell you. When you are older…I know you will hate hearing this, but when you are ready, you will know.”
“Why did Quirrell burn?” Harry asked pensively.
“I can only hazard a guess at that,” Dumbledore said. “But…I believe it is because your mother sacrificed herself for you - for both of you, in order to save your lives. If there is one thing Voldemort cannot understand and cannot bear, it is love. The kind of love that leaves its own mark - not a scar or anything visible, but a mark just the same. It is a kind of protection, to have been loved so deeply, even when the person who loved you is gone. As long as you have that protection, Voldemort cannot touch you, for it is agony for someone so marked by greed and hatred to touch someone protected by something so good.”
Harry blinked rapidly to clear his eyes, and Nick turned away slightly to wipe his sleeve across his face.
When he could speak again, Nick asked, “How did I get the Stone out of the Mirror?”
“Ah, I’m glad you asked this question, for it was one of my more brilliant ideas. You see, only one who wanted to find the Stone - find it, but not use it - would be able to get it. Everyone else would just see themselves making gold or drinking Elixir of Life. Now, enough questions - I suggest you both start on that pile of sweets over there.”
Harry turned in surprise. Sure enough, there was a pile of sweet packages on the bed next to him.
-----
Later, Zabini and Nott came to visit him, although Nott looked very uncomfortable. Zabini swept in with all of his pureblooded aplomb and drawled, “Still got your head I see, Potter.”
“In spite of myself,” Harry grinned back.
“Everyone’s talking about you,” Zabini said. “You wouldn’t believe the rumours going around…”
They didn’t stay long - it wouldn’t do to tarnish their cold reputations, but their visit made Harry feel much more normal. More like a Slytherin again, as they talked in their roundabout way, subtly grilling for information.
“You’d better be up by the Feast tomorrow, Potter,” Zabini threatened as they got ready to leave. “Slytherin’s won, you know.”
“I’ll be there,” Harry said, a wide smile on his face.
And he was. It took a lot of cajoling and placating on Harry’s part to Madam Pomfrey, but with one last check-up (that made him late!), he was released from the Hospital Wing at last.
Nick came up to walk with him to the Great Hall, which was already full when they arrived. When they walked inside, there was a sudden hush, and then everybody started talking loudly at once. Both Harry and Nick ducked their heads, and Nick thumped him on the back before they went to their separate tables. Harry hurried to the Slytherin table and tried to ignore the stares he was getting.
The Hall was decorated in the Slytherin colours, layered in silver and green. Harry felt glee rising up in his chest as he sat down at the table, and he grinned at his House mates unreservedly. He was greeted with a myriad of expression in return, ranging from disapproval to amusement to camaraderie.
Fortunately, at that moment Dumbledore arrived. The babble and strange stares died away.
“Another year gone!” Dumbledore said cheerfully. “And I must trouble you with an old man’s wheezing waffle before we sink our teeth into our delicious feast. What a year it has been! Hopefully your heads are a little fuller than they were - you have the whole summer ahead to get them nice and empty before next year starts.
“Now, we have a few important announcements,” Dumbledore continued. “First, I would like the Misters Potter to please stand…”
Harry started in surprise and confusion, and sat until Zabini elbowed him hard in the ribs.
“Stand up!” he hissed, and Harry reluctantly stood. Across the Hall, Nick was standing and staring at the table, his ears so red Harry could see it even from where he stood at the Slytherin table.
“These two courageous young men did Hogwarts and the Wizarding World a great service this last week,” Dumbledore said, and Harry felt his neck grow very hot. “I would award points, but I would have to give them both the same amount of points and it wouldn’t change the standings very much, now would it.” There were a few nervous chuckles at that. “Instead,” Dumbledore continued, “I have decided to award them the very prestigious Special Awards for Services to the School.”
There was a very loud round of applause, and Harry flushed even hotter.
“Congratulations, Harry and Nicolas!” Dumbledore said loudly as the cheering died down, and Harry sat down very quickly. Nick followed suit.
“And now, as I understand it, the House Cup is due to be awarded,” Dumbledore said, beaming. “And the points stand thus: In fourth place, with three-hundred and fifty-two points, is Hufflepuff House!”
There was a brief rush of clapping.
“In third place, Ravenclaw House, with four-hundred and twenty-six points. In second place, with four-hundred and fifty-two points, is Gryffindor House.
“And in first place, with a full twenty point lead and four-hundred and seventy-two points, Slytherin House!”
There was a thunderous burst of cheering from the Slytherin table that nearly burst Harry’s eardrums. Draco Malfoy was banging his goblet on the table until Harry flipped his fork at him. It tangled in Malfoy’s hair and distracted him quite nicely.
“Well done, Slytherin!” Dumbledore called, “and congratulations again to Misters Harry and Nicolas Potter!”
The cheering redoubled, the other three houses taking up the slack. At the Gryffindor table, Nick disappeared under a pile of people hugging him and pounding him on the back.
Harry didn’t think he’d ever forget that night.
-----
Harry had almost forgotten that exam results still hadn’t yet come out. To his surprise, he ended the year at a very respectable sixth place in the year rankings, just two points behind Malfoy himself. Considering the stress he’d been under at the time, not to mention the lackluster performance he’d managed in History of Magic, he thought that Malfoy had better watch out and hope his fifth place rank didn’t get taken from him next year.
To no one’s surprise, Hermione had the top position by far, closely followed by Nott, then Padma Patil, Daphne Greengrass, Malfoy, Harry himself, and Zabini in seventh, just a few points behind Harry.
Harry had hoped that Crabbe and Goyle would fail and have to repeat a year, and maybe get kicked out of the dorm so Harry wouldn’t have to listen to their snores, but you couldn’t have everything, he guessed.
Then, almost without warning, their wardrobes were empty and their trunks were packed and Harry had coaxed Hedwig back into her cage, notes were handed out to all students warning them not to use magic over the holidays, and they were boarding the train and pulling out of the station, and the countryside was getting greener and tidier as they sped past Muggle towns, eating Bertie Bott’s Every Flavour Beans, with Harry alternating between the Gryffindor compartment with his brother, and the Slytherin compartment with his year mates, and then they were pulling in to King’s Cross station.
“You must come visit this summer,” Nick implored Harry.
“Yes, definitely,” Harry replied. “And you too - come visit me at the Children’s Home, all right? We don’t have to stay there,” he added in a rush, “we can go to the park or something.”
“I don’t care where we are,” Nick said, looking surprised. “Of course I’ll come visit you. You couldn’t keep me away.”
Harry smiled at that, feeling a little shy, and they passed through the gateway when their turn came.
“There’s Uncle Vernon,” Nick said glumly, nodding at a huge man with an unpleasantly florid face.
“Urgh,” Harry said, feeling his eyes go wide. Nick laughed. “There’s Michael,” Harry said, pointing at his social worker. Michael looked befuddled again, as though not quite sure what he was doing there.
“He looks a lot more pleasant,” Nick said dolefully.
“No doubt.”
“We’ll visit each other as much as possible,” Nick vowed, and Harry nodded, then went to his brother and hugged him hard around the ribs. Nick squeezed back just as tightly.
“See you soon,” Harry said, his voice muffled in his brother’s shoulder.
“Yeah,” Nick replied, and the two boys went their separate ways.
“Hi Michael,” Harry said.
“Harry! My goodness, you’ve grown!”
“Yes,” Harry said, and looked back at his brother.
Nick waved, and mouthed something at Harry. Harry thought it looked a lot like, I love you.
Harry smiled, and mouthed it back.
Fin
Back to Story Index