A/N: I'm really sorry for the long delay, but lack of time, inspiration and some minor catastrophes unfortunately prevented me from updating. Sorry!

Chapter 24

There was not a single star to see in the sky and since heavy clouds veiled the moon, it was a gloomy night. It was in accordance with her mood. With her back against the wall, Ginny sat on the windowsill. She was tired, completely exhausted, yet sleep seemed to be denied to her. And still she saw Harry in her mind's eye…

Why she had followed Sirius, as he had seized her hand and had run with her in the direction of the village, she couldn't say. Perhaps she had perceived his desperation, perhaps she had thought of Harry. She didn't know anymore. Once they had passed the wards surrounding Hogwarts, Sirius had apparated with her to the battlefield and as soon as she had caught sight of Harry, she had immediately understood why Sirius had fetched her.

And just as on the day Harry had killed Voldemort, she had known with infallible certainty that Harry needed her. In those moments, as she had been running up the hill, nothing else had mattered, yes, not even the curse that had been racing towards her and although she had seen it, she hadn't tried to avoid it, something she still couldn't explain.

And then Harry's curse had hit her. The bright light which had surrounded her had been warm, yet she had trembled all over. And before the realization that nothing had happened to her could have really dawned on her, Harry had already stood in front of her, his eyes dark with grief and horror.

"Ginny..." he had breathed, while raising one hand.

And she had recoiled from him.

She hadn't wanted it. It had simply happened. Tears welled up in her eyes, but as she didn't want to wake Melanie, she fought back the desperate need to cry. Oh, why hadn't she seen it? Why? Ever since the day Damian had confessed what he had done, she had asked herself this question again and again. She had not believed those letters and photos. She had known how Voldemort had captured Lily Potter. So why had she believed it? Why?

Yet it had been so obvious. Harry would have never drugged her, nor taken her wand. He could have overpowered her without any effort. But Damian, who had known that Harry had taught her self-defence and who had never managed to defeat her whenever they had fought against each other in their training sessions, had thought it necessary to take precautions.

Yes, now in hindsight many things became clear to her. The photos, the letters, the attack with the poisoned knife, her nightmares…

He had truly wasted no time, she thought bitterly, remembering the dream which had haunted her in the second night after her arrival in Hogwarts. That her nightmares hadn't come of their own accord, but stemmed from the herbs Damian had given her, had consoled her only to the instant Pomfrey had explained the effects of the herbs to her.

How he must have hated them, Harry and her. With a shudder Ginny flung her arms around her and refused to finish the thought of what would have happened if he had been successful with his retaliation campaign. If it hadn't been for the teachers and Aurors, Harry wouldn't have had a chance to survive the battle. And if Sirius hadn't found her in time…

Shaking her head fiercely, Ginny suppressed this thought with all her might. Finally she became calmer. But as her hand closed around the little emerald heart that hung from her necklace, she was not longer able to hold back her tears. The piece of jewellery seemed to be the last link to Harry that had remained, the only evidence of the deep love that had bound them together once. Blinded by tears she stared up into the dark sky. She didn't even know how Harry was currently faring. Oh, if only she could be with him now! She longed for Harry with every fibre of her body and yet she feared to meet him again.

Startled, she suddenly turned around, but she had merely heard the rustling of Melanie's blanket. Shivering, Ginny drew her knees to her. She couldn't take it anymore. She had the feeling that she was gradually going insane. And perhaps she really was. Each louder sound made her flinch; she had to assure herself repeatedly that the people she interacted with were indeed the ones she believed them to be; she was afraid to eat or drink anything; at night nightmares tormented her and the feeling that she had betrayed Harry was always present. Since the day Damian had lured her into Harry's quarters, she hadn't been herself anymore.

Harry's supposed betrayal had wounded her to the core. And then the terrible evening she had jumped out of the window. But of those moments she hadn't any clear memory. Everything was blurred, a chaos of feelings and thoughts she hardly could remember. Yes, she could not even say whether she had been afraid as she had fallen.

Hermione's piercing screams, however, she would not forget till the end of her life. As Pomfrey had fussed over them a while later, she had slowly become aware of Hermione's ashen face and only then realization had hit her how much anguish she would have caused all those who were close to her. Her death would have broken her parents' hearts and her brothers would have surely been beside themselves with sorrow, yet in this one instant she had not thought of her family.

And while she still had struggled to understand that she had tried to commit suicide, the next shock hadn't been long in coming. Of Damian's interrogation she also knew little. As soon as she had comprehended what they all believed, she hadn't been capable of listening any longer. It hadn't been Harry. It hadn't been Harry. The voice that had echoed in her head had been merciless and had just blocked out the rest of the interrogation.

After a night in which she had only slept because Pomfrey had given her a sleeping potion, she had asked the healer to retell her everything. She had needed to know, every little sordid detail. And with each further word, her hatred for Damian had grown.

But she didn't want to think about Damian now, didn't want to remember that she had considered him a good friend only a few weeks ago. Her thoughts, however, refused to obey her. What had he thought? Had he been so obsessed about taking revenge that he had never thought of his future? Had he believed that he would defeat Harry in the end? Or had his own fate not mattered to him?

And now he's dead, she thought, opened the window and inhaled the icy air. She knew why he had done it and yet she didn't feel any regret over his death let alone compassion. If she was honest then she was even glad that he wasn't alive anymore, relieved. In a way she could not entirely explain this frightened her deeply, but apart from the short time she had believed Harry having killed her father she had never before hated someone to such an extent.

Pressing her hands against her burning face, she briefly closed her eyes. How she yearned to fall asleep and to forget everything that had happened, at least for a few hours. It had been just too much, she thought. And before she could have even digested that Harry was innocent her parents had come to Hogwarts. She had not wanted it, but since she was still underage the teachers had had no other choice than to inform her parents. As far as she knew McGonagall had merely told them that she had been raped by Damian Graywood, though that was only a small consolation.

For one week her family had kept her at home. They had asked her questions, but she had answered none. Her refusal to tell them anything had almost resulted in a quarrel, but she just hadn't been able to admit that she had truly believed it to be Harry who had hurt her so. Not after all those times she had tried to convince her family that Harry would never harm her. Moreover, then she would have been forced to tell them of the time she had spent in the Dark Lord's headquarters, the reason why Damian's herbs had brought about her nightmares, something with which she hadn't really come to terms herself up to now.

On the seventh day she had told her family that she would return to Hogwarts. Crushed by too much care she hadn't endured it any longer to remain in the Burrow. Her parents hadn't wanted to let her go, but she had insisted. And so they had reluctantly given in, although she had had to promise them to stay always near Ron or Hermione whenever she wouldn't attend classes.

But now she couldn't help than to think that it would have been better to flee to a place where she could have been alone, where she could have thought about everything. She had to sort out her feelings, had to somehow find the courage to apologize to Harry and to explain…

But how should she explain her behaviour if she didn't understand it herself? How could she ask for his forgiveness after all that had happened? How could he still love her? And how should she ever overcome the fear that seized her already if she only thought of seeing him again?

Yes, she thought once more, a place where she would be able to find peace, where she would be able to figure out why she had believed it, a place where no-one would ask her any questions and look at her with a concerned face, and where she maybe could find herself again.

And as her head sank down on her knees and her eyes fluttered shut, she dreamt of an ocean, a deserted beach, high cliffs towering up into the sky, waves rolling towards her, while the sun was setting on the horizon...

Harry awoke with the worst headache he had ever had. Although the light in his room was dim, the brightness was enough to increase the pain to an unbearable level. And so he had hardly opened his eyes as he was forced to close them again. Laying his hand on his forehead, he groaned slightly.

"Harry? How are you feeling?"

Recognizing Sirius' voice, Harry's tension vanished.

"Terrible.", he murmured.

"Would you get me some water, please?"

Instead of water, Sirius brought him a cup of herbal tea. The tea tasted just as awful as he felt, but he was so thirsty that he even asked for more. After Sirius had helped him drink, he sank back into his pillows and asked,

"Where's Dad?"

"He's sleeping. He watched over you the last days, but Remus and I could finally persuade him that he would be of no use if he collapsed."

"How long was I unconscious?"

"Four days. You had us rather worried. Shall I bring you something to eat?"

"No, not yet," Harry whispered, falling asleep again only a moment later.

And though he was just as hungry as he had been thirsty, it took another day until he was able to eat something. This time he recovered much slower than he had done after he had destroyed the Castle of Death. He felt so weak and ill that he didn't even find it strange that his Dad was taking care of him. Nearly a week had to pass, before he asked his father,

"Why aren't you at the Ministry? Have you taken some days off?"

James looked at him and sighed.

"No. I don't work for the Ministry anymore."

"What? Why?" Harry asked perplexed.

His Dad raised an eyebrow.

"What did you expect, Harry? The rules for those working in the Ministry are strict. That I've kept some information to myself probably wouldn't have been so bad. That I smuggled you into the Ministry would perhaps have been forgiven as well. But that I did nothing to prevent you from rendering the guards unconscious, entering Graywood's cell and then torturing him, was..."

"He recovered, didn't he? As he challenged me in Ainsworth he was hale and hearty. Aderley should be pleased that most of the Death Eaters are dead or captured now!"

"That well may be, but that doesn't change anything. I'm responsible for what I did. Not to mention that I gave you my Auror's badge, something that's of course forbidden. Aderley had no other choice than to dismiss me, Harry. If he had overlooked what I did, he would have endangered his own position. Some people at the Ministry are discontented enough how he handled everything. He bent the law more than once for you. Don't forget that. He'll show up here sooner or later anyway. He will want to talk with you."

It was unjust, Harry thought angrily. But he didn't say anything. As he realized that his Dad had indeed been home the past weeks, he was overcome by shame. But his resolve to find Graywood had driven everything else out of his mind and thus he had barely exchanged a word with his family.

"I didn't think of the consequences. But you knew them. And yet you helped me. Why? Because I said that I would break into the Ministry in any case?"

"I love you, Harry. You are my son. Am I not to help you when you need it? Furthermore I felt as if I owed you. I gave you the sleeping potion, after all."

Deeply touched, Harry stared at his father. He wanted to tell him how grateful he was, how much he regretted everything and yet he was at a loss for words. In the next moment his Dad sat down on his bed and embraced him tightly.

"Don't blame yourself, Harry. It was my decision. And if I had to decide again, I would do the same. Don't worry. Sirius and I will find something else."

"Sirius? But he didn't do anything!"

"No, he didn't. But he said that he wouldn't hunt Death Eaters without me. And so he handed in his resignation one hour after my dismissal."

Harry shook his head and slowly sank back into the cushions.

"Do I know everything now or did happen more of which I have no idea?"

"Well, Remus found work one week ago, in an orphanage for little children who are werewolves. He's teaching them and it seems that he is perfectly happy there."

Harry smiled. At least that was good news.

"I'm happy for Remus," he said, knowing how difficult it had been for Remus to have to stay at home all those months since the war had ended.

Involuntarily he glanced towards the window. It was raining outside. The sky was grey.

"Harry…"

James' hesitant voice caused him to look at his father again.

"Why didn't you tell me of the bond? Don't you trust me?"

So that it had been what had been bothering him, Harry thought as he sat up and laid a hand on his Dad's arm.

"Of course I trust you. I know I should have told you. But I didn't tell anyone. Not even Ginny. I…I wanted to forget my past, Dad. And when I discovered…"

As the door opened and Sirius came in, Harry broke off.

"Aderley is here, together with his Aurors and Dumbledore and Snape. They want to speak with you, Harry."

Harry was about to say that he wasn't well enough to receive any visitors, when James remarked,

"It would be better if you would speak with them, Harry. I've put Aderley off several times already."

Harry stifled a sigh, but knowing that he had to face the Minister eventually, he nodded. And so Sirius left the room and shortly afterwards returned with his visitors. As Harry caught sight of Snape, he was overcome by a strange relief. He hadn't known whether he had been successful in excluding Snape and Narcissa of those he had borrowed the magic from. After they had all sat down and Binky had served them tea, Aderley turned his eyes towards Harry and looked at him steadfastly.

"You promised me to avoid dark magic if possible. Yet you accepted that you would use the bond the Dark Lord has left you when you went to Ainsworth. You cannot tell me that you weren't aware of Graywood trying to lure you into a trap. So I ask you, Mr. Potter, why didn't you inform me and the Ministry, instead of putting yourself and everyone else in danger and moreover almost killing your own father and Miss Weasley?"

Harry returned Aderley's gaze and refused to give any indication of how much Aderley's words had hurt him.

"Why didn't you inform us? Since the truth was already known to us, you surely didn't think we wouldn't believe you, did you? So I can only assume that you didn't care at all what would happen as long as you would get you revenge."

Since the battle he had not used his magic again, but the fury that Aderley's words had kindled in him caused his magic to seethe. Yet Harry forced himself to remain calm.

"I didn't know that my Dad and you would follow me. As for Graywood, yes, I wanted revenge and I do not regret it in the slightest that I killed him. He deserved it."

"He deserved a trial, Mr. Potter! You had no right to..."

"After all he did, Minister, I believe, I had the right," Harry interrupted icily.

And the empty glass standing on his bedside-locker shattered into countless pieces.

The Aurors tightened their grip on their wands, but Harry paid them no attention as he stared at the shards. Willing his magic under control, he looked up and seeing the startled gaze of his Dad, he mumbled an apology. For a moment there was utter silence. Then Aderley said,

"Don't think that I don't understand why you did it, Harry. But it was wrong. Can you tell me what would have happened if you hadn't recognized Miss Weasley in time? And if you hadn't managed to do whatever you did before the curse hit her? She would be dead now, wouldn't she?"

The rage left him as suddenly as it had seized him. And crushed by a truth he could not longer ignore, Harry closed his eyes.

"Aderley! Ginny lives, so it's completely unnecessary to speculate about what could have happened!" James exclaimed.

"And if your father hadn't tripped and fallen down, he would be also dead now, wouldn't he?" Aderley continued – with a quick sidelong glance at James – in such a hard and loud voice that Harry opened his eyes again.

But this time he wasn't able to look at Aderley.

"Yes," he whispered, wishing they would finally leave him alone.

"So you must realize how dangerous it is," he heard the Minister say after a brief pause.

"Furthermore all those Death Eaters we've identified as members of the Inner Circle collapsed in their cells the day we fought on the hills of Ainsworth. They're slowly recovering, but I must admit that the sight of them and above all the events on the hills of Ainsworth disturbed me greatly."

While Aderley was still speaking, Harry looked at Snape, but the former spy shook his head imperceptibly.

"I'd like to have a truthful answer from you. Can this bond be destroyed?"

Harry turned to the Minister again and said tiredly,

"I don't know. I've searched for a way, but so far I haven't found one. I think the bond will continue to exist as long as those who swore allegiance to me will live."

Aderley surveyed him shortly and then glanced at Albus Dumbledore.

"Albus?"

Harry felt the sharp gaze of the headmaster on him as Dumbledore thoughtfully inclined his head.

"I know too little about the bond to give an answer right away, but if Severus and Harry would tell me everything they know about it, I may perhaps find a way to destroy it."

"You agree to work together with the headmaster, don't you, Harry?"

It hadn't sounded much like a question, but obviously the Minister required an answer. And though he didn't think that Dumbledore had more knowledge about the Dark Arts than he had, he nodded resignedly.

"Yes."

"Good. That's settled then. But since this bond apparently cannot be destroyed for now: will you swear to me that you will not use the bond again?"

"Yes."

Without breaking eye contact, Aderley reached into one of his pockets and fetched out a little round object. It looked similar to the badges the Aurors wore and Harry regarded it warily. The Minister laid it on the table and said,

"If you carry this badge with you, you will be able to alert the Ministry wherever you are. Should anyone attack you in the future, I want you to call us immediately. Will you do this?"

"Yes," Harry said expressionlessly.

"And how shall I know that you will keep your word this time?"

Harry stared at the Minister, but before he could have decided what to say, Aderley continued,

"We are not at war anymore, Harry. And not even you have the right to take the law into your own hands. I'll give you one last chance, but if you ever again will kill anyone, you will be arrested and taken to court like everyone else. Is that clear?"

Harry nodded, feeling miserable to such an extent that he didn't even feel any anger. Fortunately Aderley accepted his nod and then his father who must have noticed how bad he felt, stood up and ushered them all out. While Sirius accompanied them to the door, his Dad came back to him.

"Harry? Are you all right? Listen, Harry..."

"Dad, please, not now. I'm tired."

James hesitated.

"I want to sleep."

"But tomorrow we'll talk, Harry," James said, bestowed a kiss on his forehead and went to the door.

As he was finally alone, Harry sighed. But despite his exhaustion and his headache that had worsened considerably since Aderley had stepped in his room, he knew that he would not be able to sleep now. So far he had more or less succeeded in suppressing his memories of Ainsworth, but as much as he tried to keep it that way, Aderley's visit had made it impossible not to think of everything that had happened.

And still he heard the Minister's voice: Why didn't you inform us? Yes, that was indeed the question, wasn't it?

His eyes wandered to the table and while he stared at the little badge Aderley had given him, the wrath that descended upon him caught him completely unprepared. How dared he to threaten him? How dared he to tell him what to do? Struggling against the urge to destroy something, he felt panic rise in him as he seemed to be incapable of bringing his magic under control.

You don't need their help! You are more powerful than them. And instead of meekly nodding you should have put them in their place! You should have defeated them, should have forced them to serve you...No! I don't want that! No? Don't you?

In the next moment Harry threw away his blanket, raced to the bathroom and vomited. His headache became so bad that he thought his head would split open any second, but as he sank down eventually and leaned against the bathtub his rage at least was gone. Calling for Diri, he asked the tiny house-elf to bring him one particular herbal tea that would hopefully ease his pain and bade her to see to it that his family would not notice it.

As he waited for Diri to come back, Harry blinked away tears. He hadn't any strength left to deceive himself anymore. He had fully intended to use the bond. He had wanted to kill Damian. And even if he had thought of any possible consequences, he had simply not cared. On that day he had confronted Damian in his cell at the Ministry his father's presence might have prevented him from killing Graywood then and there, but in all the days he had been searching for Damian he had not forgotten once that it was only thanks to his Phoenix that Ginny was still alive.

Over and over again he had recalled Damian's memories and emotions and unnoticed by him his hate had consumed him. And so he had reached the worst decision he could have ever made when he had received Damian's letter. Only a stroke of good fortune had saved him from becoming his father's murderer and if it hadn't been for Ginny, he could have easily injured and killed the Aurors, Sirius and Remus and the teachers as well with the magic of those bonded to him.

Harry shuddered as he thought back to Ainsworth. Never before had he felt invincible to such an extent, never before had a feeling of such power flowed through him. So frightening and yet so exhilarating.

It was not astonishing that Voldemort had craved this feeling. Unexpectedly Harry gave a little laugh. Realizing that the bond had indeed saved his life, he shook his head. How utterly ironic. Of course it had also almost killed him, but Harry knew that he wouldn't have had any chance against the Death Eaters that had followed Damian otherwise. And yet he couldn't bring himself to feel grateful for having inherited that bond.

Yes, wouldn't Voldemort have been proud of him for making the decision to go alone to Ainsworth, for using the bond, for killing his enemies? For getting lost so deeply in the feel of power and hate that he would have even killed those he loved? Undoubtedly the Dark Lord would have made the same decision, Harry thought and frowned as he recalled their last duel. Why had Voldemort not helped himself with the magic of his followers then? If the Dark Lord had, he could have never had defeated him.

"Why did he not kill me? Why did Voldemort let me live?" he whispered.

"He could not. He told Miss Lily that he would never harm young Lord."

The squeaky voice startled him so badly that he would have almost conjured up a shield and attacked the little house-elf.

"Diri," he breathed, before he grasped the meaning of her words.

Diri wanted to hand him the desired cup of tea, but Harry made no move to take it from her and so Diri carefully put it on the floor next to him.

"What's that you say?"

"He told Miss Lily that he would never harm young Lord."

Harry stared at Diri.

"You want to tell me that he could have never killed me? That he did a magical vow?" he asked, knowing that just simple words would not have stopped Voldemort from killing him.

Diri looked at him uncomprehendingly. But what other explanation could there be? Yet, that couldn't be, could it?

Absent-mindedly he reached for the teacup and after having taken some sips, he questioned Diri further, but since she was not able to tell him anything else, he sent her to his Dad's lawyer a little while later, who was not only in possession of a Pensieve, but also would be unlikely to ask any questions. And what was even more important: he would keep his mouth shut in marked contrast to Dumbledore if he were to borrow the Pensieve from him.

While waiting for Diri's return, he drained his teacup, picked himself up and slowly went to his armchair. He didn't have to wait very long, however. As soon as the house-elf had given him Maybery's Pensieve, he thanked Diri and asked her to leave him alone. Shortly afterwards he was watching his memory and as he realized that every singlecurse the Dark Lord had used against him had just rebounded off his protective shield, even such that should have at least caused some damage, Harry threw back his head and began to laugh.

The stabbing pain that flared up behind his forehead caused him quickly to fall silent, however. He put the Pensieve on the table with shaking hands and leaned back in his armchair. If he had only known! He could have killed Voldemort any time and with the bond Voldemort had left him, he could have destroyed all his followers. No-one would have dared to stop him. And he would not have needed the help of the Order. The last thought caused him to pause. But what would have become of him if he had never met Ginny? If he had known about Voldemort's vow and the bond the Dark Lord had created between him and the Inner Circle?

Coldness rose in him as he answered himself. He would have killed Voldemort and his followers and would have become lost in his hate and revenge. He would have never found out that his Dad was still alive and the sacrifice his mother had made would have been truly in vain. Had his mother been aware of the vow? But even if, it probably would not have made any difference for her, he thought, remembering the day she had provoked the Dark Lord. But if Voldemort had really sworn such an oath, then why had his Killing Curse not rebounded as well? Though magic had often its own way to react, nothing made sense. Unless…

Even if he didn't quite understand it, somehow Lily's spell and Voldemort's curse must have cancelled each other. And all of a sudden Harry was certain that Voldemort had not been so shocked on that day because he had been still alive, but because the Dark Lord had expected the curse to rebound. But if he was right, then why had Voldemort never taken precautions? Had the Dark Lord hoped that he would forgive him one day? Had he considered him to be no threat? Or had he not been aware of his vow?

Harry gazed sullenly out of the window and watched it rain. But after a while it got boring to count the raindrops. As he heard the sound of approaching steps, he turned around.

"Father!" he called and ran towards the tall wizard.

"I have a present for you. Here, open it, Henry."

Harry took the elongated box and opened it curiously.

"A wand!"

And as he closed his hand around his wand, full of awe, the rain and his boredom were forgotten. With a beaming smile, he hugged his father.

And the Dark Lord had tenderly run a hand over his hair. Harry blinked as he remembered. Voldemort had never told him that he loved him and had tried to maintain a distance between them for the most time, but the little child he had been once had not been overly impressed by that. In his own way the Dark Lord also must have had feelings for him, emotions he had presumedly denied.

Perhaps, Harry mused, it wasn't so absurd to believe that Voldemort had not been aware of his feelings and thus of his vow. Perhaps the Dark Lord, too, had feared the overwhelming power of the Dark Arts in his subconscious and had been afraid of what he could do one day if his son would not bow to his will. And so he had told Lily that he would never harm him and his wish that exactly this would never happened must have been strong enough that it had resulted in a magical vow some day.

If he remembered how sure the Dark Lord had been that he would not be able to defeat him and thinking of the sudden understanding on Voldemort's face as they had dueled, it seemed to be the most plausible explanation. And if the Dark Lord had assumed that it had been Lily's work that he had survived the Killing Curse, he surely hadn't given further thought to the reason. Yes, Harry thought, thus it must have been.

And as his eyes wandered to the window and observed the raindrops running down the windowpane, he realized that despite the hate he still felt towards the wizard he had considered his father once, whom he had loved, had admired and trusted, there were yet other feelings buried in him, feelings he didn't want to examine closer. So far he had never regretted having killed Voldemort, but now he caught himself wishing that he could speak with him one more time.

And this wish was quickly followed by a terrifying realization: that he would never be free of his past as long as he was not able to – yes, he thought – able to mourn for the people he had loved once and to forgive them. And not only Voldemort, but Bellatrix, the other Death Eaters, who had cared for him and – his mother. He had never acknowledged this, but since this evening he seemed to be analyzing himself, why not finally admit that as well?

A part of the seven year old child had been angry at his mother for leaving him completely alone, for making him hate everyone else, for not keeping silence in Voldemort's presence on that one day. And he still was. But how could he be angry at his mother? She had saved him, hadn't she? If it hadn't been for her, he would surely have become the heir Voldemort had hoped for. And some day he would have led the Death Eaters into battle, the proud leader of wizards and witches who murdered everyone who dared to stand in their way.

And his mother had understood it and with a desperate hope that he would hate Voldemort enough not to follow in his footsteps, she had even given her life. And what have I done? Recalling the atrocities he had committed while living in the Dark Lord's headquarters, he closed his eyes. And it was not only this. Until the day he had met Ginny the fate of the prisoners in Voldemort's dungeons had not mattered to him at all. To interfere and to help them had not even occurred to him. And therein probably lay his greatest fault. That he had tortured the followers of the Dark Lord instead of saving lives.

And as he had had a chance at last to leave his past behind him, he had allowed his hate to lead him again on a path he had wanted to forsake forever. So much hatred, he thought, so many deaths. And he hadn't learned anything from his past, had he?

He had had enough warnings and yet he hadn't even considered informing the Ministry, so blinded by hate and his desire to feel once more the seemingly boundless power that always seized him whenever he used dark magic. And now he had reached the point where he had felt triumph and a frightening happiness as he had killed Graywood and his followers.

Such feelings he had not even felt as he had killed Voldemort. Then he had been overcome by an icy coldness, perhaps a small sign that he hadn't yet been irretrievably lost to the darkness. In Ainsworth, however…

He had been truly delighted, hadn't he, as he had realized that he would be able to kill Damian? And would it have been possible he would have even tortured him before. But the worst thing was that he knew how Damian had felt in all those months. Yes, he must have felt just as betrayed as he himself had. He had blamed him and Ginny for his father's death and that it had been the heir of the Dark Lord who had been responsible for the fall of the Dark Side must have made him even more furious. And I have killed him.

Yes, but remember what he did. He hurt Ginny, he betrayed you both. He destroyed everything. And you hated him. You wanted to kill him. You had to ensure that he would never be able to harm Ginny again. You had no other choice. You had to make him pay…

But I had had a choice, Harry silently screamed. Oh, what have I done? And all at once he realized that it was not so much the dark magic and the darkness that were so dangerous for him but his hatred. The more he hated, the more difficult it was for him to keep control over his magic.

And now he had even lost Ginny, who had been his light in the darkness as he once had called her; Ginny, who had believed that it had been him who had raped her in his chamber. But how could he reproach her for that? After everything that had happened between them in the headquarters of the Dark Lord? And as she had wanted to help him in Ainsworth, he had almost killed her as well to cap it all.

So how could he not understand her if she wouldn't want to come near him ever again? In the last possible moment he had managed to alter the curse, had realized just in time that it had been Ginny who had been yelling his name. One second later and Ginny would have been...

And as the pain and the hatred tore him apart and the window, at which he was still staring, shattered into pieces, his hate was directed towards himself and suddenly he hated his magic, too, wished that he would have never possessed any. He was dangerous, was unworthy of anyone loving him. And while he soon wasn't able to make out the rain anymore for all his tears, he saw Ginny's brown eyes with the golden spots he so loved before him, wide open, because she feared him…