Shadow of the Serpent by KEDme
Summary: **June Dumbledore Silver Trinket Award Winner for Best Angst, and May winner for Best Author**
Harry is whisked away to an ancient island to be trained in Occlumency. What he finds is another complication to add to his already complicated life. Will friendship, love, loyalty, bravery, and honor be enough to save him from the Shadow of the Serpent that haunts his life? H/G angst/action adventure.
Rating: PG-13
Categories: Post-OotP
Characters: None
Genres: None
Warnings: None
Challenges: None
Series: None
Published: 2004.08.03
Updated: 2007.03.08
Index
Chapter 1: Prologue
Chapter 2: The Return
Chapter 3: Tlilli Tlapalla
Chapter 4: Answers
Chapter 5: The Legend and the Temple
Chapter 6: As the 7th Month Dies-
Chapter 7: Ginny's Delimma
Chapter 8: The Power of Love
Chapter 9: Sensus Discessus Tempestium
Chapter 10: Masaya
Chapter 11: The Ties That Bind
Chapter 12: Deception
Chapter 13: The Ballgame
Chapter 14: It's Not Over Yet...
Chapter 15: Another Prophecy
Chapter 16: Back to the Dursleys
Chapter 17: Hogwarts, At Last
Chapter 18: Lessons Begin
Chapter 19: Confrontations
Chapter 20: Macoa's Gift
Chapter 21: The Hearing
Chapter 22: Ambush
Chapter 23: Lost
Chapter 24: Found
Chapter 25: Reconnecting
Chapter 26: Horcruxes and Hiding Places
Chapter 27: Look Who's Back
Chapter 28: The Serpent Strikes
Chapter 29: Revisiting the Past
Chapter 30: Rescue
Chapter 31: The Reign of Darkness
Chapter 32: Quetzalcoatl Reborn
Chapter 33: Taming the Darkness
Chapter 34: Ehecailacozcatl Lives
Chapter 35: Epilogue: Voldemort's Last
Chapter 1: Prologue
Disclaimer: All credit for the Harry Potter universe goes to the great JKR. I take credit only for the work that is clearly mine.Sequel to Home Alone
~
Prologue
Through the mist, the darkness grows,
The Shadow of the Serpent goes.
Stronger, steadier, formless in stealth,
Anger, desire, self-loathing, wealth.
It seeps into the souls of men,
Corrupts the mind, struggles to win
The brave, the noble, the good of heart;
The kind, the gentle, the loyal art
Forsaken to its almighty power.
All is lost, the midnight hour
But hope springs forth if he holds true,
Victory comes to the chosen few.
Into the darkness the child, the foe,
The men return that destiny knows.
The battle rages, the pieces set,
Out of the depth of hell they met.
The plume of the serpent,
The jewel of the eye,
The feather of tears,
The gift of the sky.
Look up to the heaven,
Look out to the sea.
The child of Lightning
And Thunder is he!
~
The Legend…
In ancient days, in the land of Mesoamerica, there were once three sophisticated and enlightened civilizations. These civilizations thrived until the Spanish Conquistadors came and conquered the land, dividing the people.
In those days, the magical people of these three civilizations banded together and formed a secret society. They hid themselves from the rest of the world, far away from the influence of the politics of the time and the brutal Spaniards, settling on the magical island of Tlilli Tlapalla - the land of wisdom. There they remained hidden for centuries, until one man discovered their secret. In exchange for knowledge and ancient artefacts to take back to the Wizard and Muggle world, he agreed to keep their secret.
The man’s name was Stephen Hunter. The people of the island knew him as an honourable man and called him Xolotl, because it was foreseen he would play a great role in the coming dark days. It was prophesied that Xolotl would return the true Prince to the world, ultimately saving it from destruction at the hands of the evil sorcerer, Tezcatlipoca.
Many centuries before the Prince-God, Quetzalcoatl, was forced out by an evil plot formulated by the hand of his enemy, Tezcatlipoca. He sailed away to the East on a raft of serpents and birds. He promised the people that he, or one of his sons, would return one day to free the world from the evil hand of his enemy.
This is the story of the legend of the defender of humanity - the Plumed Serpent, Quetzalcoatl - and how the boy, Harry Potter, became a man.
***
Present Day…
Albus Dumbledore paced the floor of his office, deep in thought. The letter had been one of the hardest he had ever written and he could only hope he had chosen the right words. That one letter had to accomplish the impossible. Losing the boy now would be devastating to their cause. There was simply too much at stake to fail.
Dumbledore shuffled his feet nervously as he paced. Harry's recent behaviour was the latest in a string of troubling events that kept him up late into the wee hours of the morning. The incident a few days ago at Privet Drive had been as frightening for him as it had been for those watching. Harry had actually trained his wand on him and spoken in a voice that was more Tom Riddle than Harry Potter. Dumbledore shuddered at the memory of his cold, green eyes twisted with hate. He had always known Harry was a very powerful wizard, but even he was shocked at the power radiating off the boy. Harry could easily have blown the house apart if he had wanted to.
Why had he allowed it to get this far? He had known Tom would try something like this. His fatal mistake had been placing his trust in a man he knew harboured a grudge against the boy. He knew Severus was not perfect. But he had truly believed his old friend could overcome his past for the sake of the greater good. Unfortunately it had been a costly mistake- one that could possibly be their undoing.
‘No!’ he thought angrily as he slammed his fist down on his desk. He would never allow that to happen. Tom Riddle would not win this time. As long as Stephen Hunter could be convinced, Voldemort would be stopped. As long as the ex-Auror could put aside his anger and hate…
Dumbledore shook his head and attempted to drag his thoughts from the past. He had to focus on Harry now. Harry was far too vulnerable and much too valuable to lose. Only a month ago, he had come close to losing the boy once again because of his foolish mistakes. Now he must rectify those errors.
His heart filled with pain as he remembered how distraught Harry had been after the Department of Mysteries incident. He would give his life to protect the boy if he could. A single tear slid down his cheek and he choked with emotion. No matter how much he hated it, the plan he had conceived fifteen years ago must go forward. If only there was another way-
A loud knock interrupted his meditation. With Dumbledore's permission, Kingsley Shacklebolt strode through the door, his massive dark frame filling the doorway forebodingly. He was not smiling.
"Headmaster," he said in his characteristic deep voice that reverberated through Dumbledore’s inner sanctum like a loud gong. "There has been a development near Privet Drive. The Potter boy… he’s acting funny again. If we don’t do something soon, people may get hurt."
Dumbledore sighed. With or without Hunter, he would have to act. He hated to do it to Harry, but he really had no choice. "Call Severus," he said sadly. "It is time."
***
Far away, a letter was delivered to a sandy-haired man, sitting by himself on a quiet strip of beach. He recognised the bird at once. It was his old Snowy owl, Zeus.
The bird landed lightly on his extended arm. Despite himself, Stephen Hunter felt a wave of happiness wash over him at the sight of his old friend. He had left Zeus behind when he had left England, just as he had left everything behind.
"You're looking old, Zeus," he told the bird fondly as he smoothed his feathers.
Zeus gave an indignant hoot.
"Yes, I suppose I'm looking old as well," Hunter laughed lightly. "It's good to see you again, my friend."
The regal animal blinked and hooted a reproachful, but equally fond response.
“What are you doing so far from home?” he asked.
It was only when Zeus held out his leg that he noticed the letter. Hunter untied the letter from the bird's leg, an uneasy feeling settling in the pit of his stomach. Who would know that the only way to find him was through his owl?
Even though he had left him behind, Zeus always turned up from time to time to check on him. Hunter had tried to discourage the bird, but Snowy owls were known for their keen intellect, fierce loyalty, and stubborn temperament. Zeus refused to go away for good, no matter how much Hunter wanted him to. He had no idea where the bird went or who he came into contact with, but he always checked in eventually.
Turning his attention the letter, his uneasiness intensified. One glance at the loopy handwriting written in green ink, and his heart was pounding. His handsome, weather-worn face darkened in recognition.
Hunter’s first impulse was to rip the letter apart and throw the pieces in the ocean. There was nothing Dumbledore could say that he would want to hear. Those bridges had been burned long ago, and he was never going back.
Several times he made to tear it up, but something always stopped him. For almost an hour he sat there, alternatively crumpling and smoothing out the folded parchment, a silent battle raging in his head. Zeus had long grown tired of the game, and had flown off in search of a tasty snack and a long rest. Hunter knew he would return eventually looking for a reply, and he had yet to even open the damned thing. Why did Dumbledore have to do this to him now?
Building up his resolve, Hunter finally counselled himself to open the letter. If he didn't, he knew he'd regret it. The thought of Dumbledore making him lose any more sleep than he already had over the years was unacceptable. He needed to know what the old man wanted so that there would be no question in his mind when he rejected the content of the letter. He couldn't possibly imagine what the old man could want that hadn't already been said years before.
Taking a deep breath, he slit open the envelope and slid the parchment out of its snug home with shaking fingers. Carefully he unfolded the letter and began to read.
Dear Mr. Hunter,
I debated long and hard before contacting you, but I feel I have no choice. You may or may not know that our old nemesis, Lord Voldemort, has indeed returned and is attempting to gather his forces together once again. But it is not this news, however grave it may be, that has prompted me to seek you out after all this time.
My primary focus these days is on young Mr. Potter. The boy, as you very well know, is our only hope of defeating Voldemort once and for all. Indeed, he is a remarkable young man - very much his father's son. James would surely be proud of the person he has become.
Harry needs your help, Stephen. He shares a mind connection with Voldemort through his curse scar, and Tom is taking advantage of this connection. Harry needs to learn Occlumency and you are the best Occlumens I have ever worked with. I would do it myself, if I could, but Tom’s feelings about me are interfering and making the connection stronger.
I know that we have had our differences in the past. I am hoping that you can set our history aside and do this, not for me, but for James and Lily. You and Harry have both lost your families to Voldemort. Harry has also lost his childhood. Please don’t let him lose his life.
As you consider what I have said, do not let your personal feelings towards me cloud your judgement on this issue. I am confident that once you consider the matter, you will agree to help because it is the right thing to do.
I hope this letter finds you well, Stephen, and that you have found the peace that you sought. Know that if you ever decide to come home, there will always be a place for you at Hogwarts. You are in my thoughts constantly.
Sincerely,
Albus Dumbledore
Hunter cursed as he crumpled the letter in frustration. He intended to throw the thing as far away from him as possible, but it was as if glue were bonding the parchment to his hand. He couldn’t do it, and that made him even angrier. Dumbledore always knew just what to say to make him think twice about refusing. He hated the man all the more for knowing him so well.
He sat on the beach for a good long while, willing himself not to break but unable to hold the tide back any longer. Like an empty well, the tears did not fall easily. His sobs were guttural and anguished. He hadn’t cried in years - not since that night - but the letter had opened a chasm in his soul. It was a wound he thought he had buried along with his wife and son.
When he was finished, he uncurled the letter from his clenched fingers, smoothed it out, and read it again. He knew he could not refuse. He had known for a long time that his destiny was intertwined with another’s. Without question, it had begun.
[A/N: This story is more serious, in-depth, and complicated than Home Alone, but hopefully with all of the same elements of humour, angst, fluff, suspense, and drama. If anyone is curious about the history surrounding the legend, I assure you that I am not so creative that I made any of it up. It is straight from history and can be found easily on the web. I did however adapt it somewhat to fit my purposes. Mesoamerican culture is fascinating. I found such rich information that fit so perfectly into the Harry Potter universe that I couldn’t believe my luck. Not much embellishment was needed. I hope you’ll like the direction I’ve taken this universe. I’ll continue to rely on canon as much as possible, but I wanted to take my writing one step further and try to develop a deeper story with plot and substance. Hopefully it will be worthy in your eyes.
Finally, thanks again to my beta reader, Chromatix, for all his input and emails. I really appreciate him. I also need to thank my family for their understanding (most days) and encouragement. It means the world to me.
Now… on to Shadow of the Serpent!]
Chapter 2: The Return
Disclaimer: All credit for the Harry Potter universe goes to the great JKR. I take credit only for the work that is clearly mine.Chapter One: The Return
The Muggle airliner zoomed through the sky smoothly, most of its occupants unaware that it carried a very special passenger. Had they known the history behind the dark-haired youth absently staring out the window, they may have taken more notice. As it was, there was nothing to suggest that the average-looking teenager with messy hair and glasses was extraordinary in any way, even by wizard standards. But Harry Potter, the boy in question, was a wizard - and a very unusual one at that.
Most wizards would say that the thin, lightning-bolt scar on the boy’s forehead was the result of a curse left by one of the most feared Dark Lords of the age. However, the boy knew that the inconspicuous-looking disfigurement was a curse in more ways than one. The Dark Lord, believed to be dead for many years, had recently found a way to return. The scar was a living connection between the two wizards; a connection that had caused much trouble for the boy in the past several years.
As Harry Potter looked out of the window of the mostly empty first class compartment, he pondered his life and how it would change upon his return to England. It had been a month and a half since he had last seen his home country and friends. It had been even longer since he had last laid eyes on his true home, Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. His life had changed a great deal since then.
Although just turned 16, he was a man now, and ready to shoulder the burden that had been thrust upon him so early in life. He had learned many things over the past weeks, and - even though he knew he still had much to learn - he felt strangely at peace. The feeling had not come cheaply - he had paid a huge price for it. Now, however much he hated it, he was resigned to his fate.
Harry’s thoughts were interrupted by the re-appearance of his companion, a man of about forty with sandy-brown hair, a rich golden tan, and a handsome face edged with worry lines. His daunting blue eyes surveyed the youth with concern as he sat down in the empty seat next to him.
“We’ll be arriving at Heathrow in about 20 minutes. The pilot says we’re on time,” he announced.
Noticing the far-off look of his companion, he hesitated. “All right there, Harry?” he asked in a deep, concerned voice. His intelligent gaze did not miss the flash of indecision that crossed the boy’s face.
Instead of answering, Harry just shrugged his shoulders and turned back to stare out of the window.
“You’re worried about what your friends will say when you see them again,” the man deduced with a grim smile.
“Wouldn’t you?” he said stiffly, inclining his head in agreement.
“From what you’ve told me of your friends, Harry, I think they’ll stand by you. You’re still the same person you were before all this mess began,” the man said confidently.
Harry snorted. “How would you know?”
“I suppose I don’t,” he agreed reluctantly. “Not having known you before, it’s hard for me to tell. All I know is that you obviously have some very loyal people on your side.”
Giving Harry a sidewise look, he grinned. “At least you’re no longer apt to do a Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde transformation on them anymore,” he quipped.
“That’s partly what worries me,” Harry admitted seriously. “I did and said some awful things before I came to you. I don’t know if they’ll be able to get past it.”
“They, Harry - or she?” the man asked wisely. He raised his eyebrow in a questioning manner.
Again Harry shrugged wordlessly and turned back to the window.
“What’s so interesting out there, anyway?” he asked, amused. “You’d think after two days in the air it would all seem redundant.”
“Sometimes redundancy is good,” Harry replied without looking back. “It helps clear the mind.” Had Harry been looking in his direction, he would not have missed the large smile that that briefly crossed the man’s face.
“Speaking of which,” the man asked in a business-like tone, “have you had any indication whether Voldemort has sensed your return?”
Harry shook his head. “Nope, not even a twinge.”
“Good,” his companion said with obvious relief. “I’m sure he’s expecting it, since term is about to start, but there’s no sense in taking out an advertisement. Do you have any questions about the plan?”
“Not really,” Harry replied as he turned to face his companion once again. “Isn’t there any way I can persuade you to change your mind?”
The man’s eyes narrowed dangerously. “Harry, we’ve been through this already.”
“I know,” the boy sighed. “But going back there… it’s just not something I’m looking forward to,” he said.
“I’m sure it isn’t,” the man said sympathetically. “However, it is a necessary part of the plan.”
“Isn’t there any other place?” he asked, even though he already knew the answer.
The man shook his head. “Taking you to the Leaky Cauldron would be as good as a flashing neon sign telling Voldemort you’re back. That’s something we want to avoid as long as possible.”
The man surveyed Harry with keen eyes. “I won’t lie to you, Harry. Nowhere is safe for you.”
“I think I could handle myself,” Harry said crossly, shooting him a pointed look.
“Remember what we talked about, Quetzal,” he said reproachfully. “You need to keep the element of surprise on your side. Voldemort can’t know anything's changed,” he said firmly.
The man watched the boy unconsciously finger the area around his wrists as he turned back towards the window. In order to distract him from his dark thoughts, he asked a seemingly innocent question. “So, how’s your friend adjusting to the altitude change?”
Harry turned back quickly, and flashed the man a genuine boyish smile. “Well enough, I suppose,” he answered. “He’s not thrilled with the air pressure, but he’s been napping most of the journey. I think he may be awake now. Care to say hello?” he asked, sliding his backpack that was lying on the floor between his feet over closer towards his companion.
The man’s face contorted oddly. “No,” he said, backing as far away as he could get in the small space. “That’s quite all right.”
The teenager laughed, and began to tease him mercilessly by trying to slide the bag closer.
Luckily, he was saved from more of Harry’s taunts by the airline attendant. “Excuse me, Mr. Hunter,” the thin, long-legged blonde said, bending closer than was probably necessary to deliver the message. “The pilot asked me to inform you that we are about to begin our final descent. We should be landing at Heathrow in 15 minutes or so. He asked that you and your companion remain on the plane until the last of the passengers have disembarked, so that he can speak to you about your special arrangements.”
“Thank you,” Hunter replied graciously. As she started back towards the cockpit, he added, “Please convey my appreciation to the pilot, and let him know that his cooperation will not be forgotten.”
She nodded gravely and turned to deliver the message.
“Who is coming to meet us, anyway?” Harry asked curiously.
“I wasn’t told names,” Hunter replied slowly, “but I was under the impression that you know them.”
“That’s helpful,” Harry said sarcastically, rolling his eyes.
“I’m assuming it will be the same ones that brought you to me in July,” he responded, ignoring Harry’s attitude.
“Well, as I was unconscious most of the time, that isn’t helpful, either.”
“Let’s see…” Hunter mused, rubbing his chin thoughtfully, “there were four. One was female with blue, spiky hair...”
“That would be Nymphadora Tonks,” Harry clarified, “but she goes by her last name, Tonks. She’s an Auror and a member of the Order.”
“Yes, that does sound familiar,” Hunter conceded. “Remus Lupin was the only one I knew. The other two had red hair.”
“Do you remember anything about them?” Harry inquired. "Most of the Weasleys are in the Order."
“One was in his twenties with longish hair, the other was clearly his father,” he told him.
“That would be probably be Bill Weasley and his father, Arthur,” Harry said. "It's hard to tell, though from your oh-so-detailed description," Harry said sardonically.
“I take it there are several Weasleys in the Order these days. Do they still have their trademark red hair?” Stephen asked curiously.
Harry grinned broadly. “Yeah, they do,” he said. Then for emphasis, he added, “Every last one of them.”
“You talk like there are many,” Stephen said in his customary detached way. By now Harry knew him well enough to know this was a sign he was thinking about something.
“Let’s see…” Harry said, pretending to think, as well, “…there are Molly and Arthur, Ron’s parents. Arthur works for the Ministry of Magic in the Misuse of Muggle Artefacts department. He and Mrs. Weasley are both members of the Order."
"Then there’s Bill. He works for Gringotts as a curse-breaker, but has a desk job now so that he can help the Order. Charlie is the next oldest. He lives in Romania, but he’s in the Order, too. After Charlie, is Percy.” Harry paused and made a face.
“Something wrong with Percy?” Hunter asked curiously, coming out of his zone long enough to let Harry know he really was listening.
“He’s the git of the family. He works for Cornelius Fudge, and has basically disowned the family because they support Dumbledore and me.”
“Hmm… sounds as if Percy needs an attitude adjustment,” Hunter replied thoughtfully.
“Uh-huh,” Harry confirmed. “It’s hard to believe he was a Gryffindor, the way he’s been acting. Always had a big head, that one."
"Anyway, after Percy are Fred and George, the twins. They’re identical. Oh, and they have their own joke shop in Diagon Alley.”
“How old are they?” Stephen asked, surprised. "If Bill is the oldest, and there are two others in between, they can't be much older than twenty."
“They just turned eighteen,” Harry said proudly. "They left school last term to start it up. I'm sure students will be talking about the fuss the twins made before they left for generations. Their exit was dramatic, to say the least.”
"Sounds like the something your Dad and his friends would have been proud of," Stephen said with a chuckle. "That's the stuff of legends."
Harry smiled at the memory of seeing Umbridge get her just desserts at the hands of the Weasley twins. “It was. It took Filch a good while to correct the damage they inflicted on the school. They always were the pranksters, but they’ve just taken it one step further. After they left, they opened up their own shop. From what I’ve seen, it appears to be a success.”
“Opening a shop is a big investment. Where did they get the money to start it up?”
“I gave it to them,” Harry said uncomfortably. In a hushed voice, so that Stephen had to strain to hear, he mumbled, “I gave them my Tri-Wizard Tournament winnings.”
Hunter raised his eyebrows in shock. “Since when are they doing the Tournament again? I thought it had been disbanded years ago because it was too dangerous. And what was Dumbledore thinking letting you enter? You just turned 16, for goodness sake!”
Harry’s uncomfortable feelings intensified with Hunter’s line of questioning. He hated to be reminded of that time and was annoyed that he had brought up his age. Hadn’t he proven himself capable? “I was 14, actually, and it’s a long story,” he snapped waspishly. Seeing Hunter’s confused face, however, made him realise he owed the older man an explanation.
“I’ll tell you all about it one day,” Harry said, “but right now is not the time and I’m really not in the mood, anyway. If you hadn’t sequestered yourself from our world, you would know most of the details,” he said accusingly. “It was in the papers a few months ago.”
“I had my reasons,” Hunter said. He had a hint of a warning in his voice.
“Which you have yet to tell me,” Harry said stubbornly. “You know all about me, yet I know almost nothing about you.”
“Of course you do,” Hunter said, smiling a self-satisfied smile. “You know that I was once an Auror, and a member of the Order of the Phoenix, back when your parents were alive. You also know that I have been travelling ever since I left England, I have my own way of doing things, I hate to lose, and I snore.”
“Why do I get the feeling you left a lot out?” Harry said with a frown.
“Because I did,” Hunter told him. “Just like you, I have my secrets.”
“I don’t have secrets,” Harry protested grumpily.
“So what’s your mystery girl’s name?” he asked with a wicked glint in his steely-blue eyes.
“What mystery girl?” Harry said sharply.
“That’s what I thought,” he laughed. “So, tell me some more about this red-headed family you’re so fond of,” the older man said, steering the conversation back to the subject at hand.
“Well…” Harry said slowly, attempting to drag his mind away from Hunter, his mysterious past, and thoughts of Ginny.
In the past six weeks he had tried to get information out of the older man, to no avail. He refused to talk about the circumstances that drove him away from the Wizarding World. It was all very dodgy in Harry’s opinion. But Hunter had done a lot for him over the past several weeks. He had literally saved his life. Harry trusted him in spite of these little nuances.
“…the only two left are Ron and Ginny. Ron is my age and Ginny is a year younger,” he said finally, after a long pause.
Silently ticking them off in his head, Hunter whistled. “Correct me if I’m wrong, but is that seven children in all?”
“Yes,” Harry said absently. He didn’t feel much like talking anymore. His mind had already drifted to his friends - the youngest Weasley in particular.
Just saying her name was enough to send his thoughts into a tailspin. Without thinking, his hand found the Phoenix pendent that Dumbledore had given him for his birthday. It helped to calm his mind and focus his thoughts.
He longed to see her again. It seemed like an eternity since he had last held her in his arms. For the thousandth time since they parted, he thought back to the incident by his door when Ginny had poured her emotions into him. Closing his eyes, he successfully conjured up the feeling and immediately felt much better.
Thinking about it helped centre him. He was so focused on the feeling that he didn’t even notice his backpack stirring around his ankles at first.
“You’re doing it again,” Hunter said casually, breaking him out of his trance.
“Doing what?” Harry asked irritated that his concentration was broken.
“Letting your magic go,” Hunter said, pointing to the backpack which was twitching, wiggling, and floating about two inches off the ground.
Harry blushed slightly. “Sorry,” he mumbled as he reached down to correct the damage he’d done. Placing a hand over the pack, he closed his eyes and concentrated. The pack instantly dropped to the floor, although it still wiggled slightly.
“I know you’ve heard this before, Harry, but you really need to watch yourself. Now that we’re almost home, it’s imperative-”
“Yes, I know,” he said dismissively. Seeing Hunter’s concerned face, he tried to make amends. “I’ll try harder, all right?” he promised.
“You shouldn’t take it so lightly. We need to work on that attitude of yours,” Hunter said playfully, wagging a finger at him. “That’s what got you in trouble with Occlumency. Speaking of which, have you been doing the exercises I taught you?”
“Yes, as often as I can,” he answered truthfully. Harry’s face clouded. “I don’t see why I need to hide certain things from my friends, though,” he told him disapprovingly. It was an old argument.
Hunter surveyed the boy carefully. “Perhaps you can tell them, in time,” he said.
“For now, it’s best if we keep some things just between the two of us. I don’t even want Dumbledore to know.” Harry looked ready to protest, but Hunter cut him off. “Trust me on this, Quetzal. I have my reasons.”
Harry’s retort was interrupted when the pilot’s voice came through the loudspeakers asking everyone to prepare for landing. Two days ago Harry had been nervous when it came to his first landing. Stephen had insisted on travelling Muggle-style for safety reasons. Instead of the direct route, however, they had flown to Miami and then to New York, where they had stayed overnight and spent the day shopping. Harry was in desperate need of new clothes, as he had grown substantially over the summer. He had a feeling he would need new robes as well, which was another reason he was disappointed he could not go to Diagon Alley.
They spent the day in New York having fun, knowing that their return to England would signal a new phase in their lives. Stephen insisted on paying for everything, even though Harry stubbornly vowed to pay him back. Stephen waved it off as trivial; he had plenty of money thanks to his successful archaeological expeditions. He was extremely well off, but refused to divulge just how wealthy he really was. It made him extremely self-conscious.
Harry also found himself in a Muggle optical shop picking out new frames. Stephen also insisted on an eye appointment, which was a good thing because his prescription had changed. It had been quite a few years since his last examination. He had to admit that the purchase had been worth it. He could see much better now- which would definitely help when searching for the snitch- and the frames fit his face better. He still chose round ones because he couldn't get used to seeing himself in anything else, but they were much lighter and more stylish. They made him feel more confident, if nothing else.
The next day they had risen early for the long flight to London. The plan was to meet up with the Order members and then go to Headquarters, where Harry would spend the remainder of the night before Portkeying directly onto Platform 9¾.
The plane landed gently and before Harry knew it the passengers had departed. He and Stephen had hung back to await the appearance of the pilot, who was supposed to give them instructions. Harry was surprised to see Bill Weasley approach them instead.
Bill studied Harry warily at first, until Harry flashed him a shy grin and stuck out his hand. “Good to see you again, Bill,” he said genuinely.
That must have been good enough for Bill, who took Harry’s outstretched hand and pulled him in a big bear hug that had Harry’s face turning as red as Bill’s hair. “It’s good to have you back, Harry,” he whispered emotionally in his ear as he clapped him on his back in typical manly fashion. Clearing his throat, he straightened up and pulled away, obviously realising that he had forgotten he and Harry had an audience. Stephen just looked on placidly, his keen eyes surveying the two with interest.
Harry had his second surprise of the day when Bill turned to Stephen and acknowledged him stiffly. “Hunter,” he said with a nod. Bill’s eyes narrowed, flashing a hint of suppressed anger.
“Weasley, isn’t it?” Hunter said evenly, but did not extend his hand.
“That’s right,” Bill answered coldly.
“Harry speaks highly of you and your family,” the older man said in a stiff voice. Harry couldn’t tell from his tone what he was thinking. There was a sort of wariness there that Harry hadn’t seen from his friend for a long time.
When he had first met Stephen, Harry had not thought much of him. He was cold, distant, and closed up. Slowly, however, the frostiness had given way to warmth and friendship. He and Harry had bonded over the course of the past several weeks, and now they shared a unique relationship built on mutual trust. They had been through a lot together, and each man had earned the others’ respect. Harry trusted Stephen with his life.
Bill looked taken aback by this comment. Clearly it was not what he had been expecting. It was confusing to see the coldness between his two friends, and he wondered what had brought it on. Knowing that he had to do something to break the tension, Harry interrupted the exchange with a well-placed comment. “I don’t know where I’d be without all my friends,” he said, shooting a pointed look at each in turn.
Bill smiled at him warmly, seeming to shake off the unpleasantness and focus instead on Harry once again. “Mum is going to be beside herself when she sees you, Harry. I think she was worried you’d need fattening up. She’ll be pleased to find that’s not the case. You look healthier than I’ve ever seen you!”
Harry smiled at the thought of Mrs. Weasley’s cooking. It had been too long since he’d had a proper meal. The food on the island had been filling, and he’d certainly had enough, but he could really use some of Mrs. Weasley’s Shepherd's Pie and Yorkshire Pudding. His mouth watered at the thought that he’d soon be back at Hogwarts eating his favourite, Treacle Tart. Merlin, it had been too long!
Bill was still chattering, but the thought of food distracted Harry, and made him miss half of what the eldest Weasley said next. Harry only heard, “…and Ginny will meet us there.” The comment was followed by silence, and both Bill and Stephen were looking at him expectantly.
“Excuse me?” Harry asked as politely as possible. He didn’t want to appear rude and admit that he had been daydreaming and not caught all of what Bill said, yet he really wanted to know what had been said since it involved Ginny. He needed to know when he would see her again.
It was the thought that had been foremost in his mind for the last several days. Sighing, Harry admitted, “Sorry… it must be the jet lag - I think I drifted off there for a minute. Would you mind repeating what you just said?”
Bill chuckled. “I said that we need to get a move-on. The Portkey is set to activate in...” he checked his watch, “...exactly two minutes. Tomorrow we’ll use another time-activated Portkey to get to King’s Cross. Ron, Hermione, and Ginny will meet us there.”
“What about our luggage?” Harry asked, as he gathered up his backpack. He had little else to carry, as most of his belongings were in his trunk.
“Don’t worry,” Bill said confidently. “It’s being taken care of. Tonks and Lupin are handling that end. It’ll be along shortly.”
Harry nodded as Bill pulled out an old, battered fork from the pocket of his jacket. “Everyone set?” he asked when it seemed they were ready. They nodded in the affirmative. “All right, then… place a finger on the Portkey. It’ll be activating in,” Bill checked his watch, “5…4…3…2…1….”
Harry felt the familiar jerking sensation around his navel as the Portkey activated. When he looked up again, he found himself in the most peculiar circumstances possible. Bill’s Portkey had landed the three of them right in the middle of the Dursley’s dining table at precisely the moment Aunt Petunia had chosen to serve pudding.
So startled were the Dursleys at receiving such unexpected and unwelcome guests that, for once, the normally vocal Vernon Dursley was rendered speechless. Meanwhile Dudley sat blubbering in shock, and Aunt Petunia promptly dropped the fancy tart she was carrying in horror.
Harry was shocked to be back on Privet Drive. He had expected Grimmauld Place, but not this! Most unsettling of all - besides the fact that he found himself in the very last place he wanted to be with the people he had hoped not to see again for another year - was the presence of a fourth person sitting silently in shock, her mouth hanging open. It was the very person he had hoped to avoid as long as possible - someone he wished never to see again - Claire Smith.
***
Seven weeks earlier…
The summer was turning out to be the worst yet for Harry Potter. After his aunt and uncle had returned from their business trip, Harry’s life became even more unbearable. This time, however, it wasn’t his aunt, uncle, and cousin who were causing the problem. Well, they hadn’t helped. But to be honest, it was his own warped mind that served as his betrayer.
He had thought having his friends over would alleviate most of the feelings of depression that constantly threatened to overwhelm him, but it hadn’t. What he got instead was an even deeper feeling of loss once they were gone and he was alone, stuck once again in his own private hell called Privet Drive.
Harry had avoided contact with people as much as possible, since he couldn’t trust himself to not do or say something he didn’t mean. Voldemort was no longer holding conversations with him in his mind, but sometimes Harry had the feeling that he was doing his best to influence him, especially when he was angry or harbouring ill feelings. It was those times that Harry could feel the snake inside him poised and ready to strike, and that was when he fought his hardest not to lose control.
He still didn’t understand what had made him lose control of himself that night. He had searched all his textbooks and came up with no good explanation for Voldemort suddenly having access to his mind and controlling his body.
He knew it was different from what he had experienced at the Department of Mysteries, because when Voldemort had tried to possess him, Harry had felt pain beyond pain. Dumbledore had said Harry’s love for Sirius made it impossible for Voldemort to remain for very long in his body. This felt more like telepathy rather than possession.
Of course, he had also done some rather odd things during that time, like hold his wand on Dumbledore, as well as the things he had said to Mr. Weasley and Ginny. This was unsettling because he remembered exactly what he had done, but not why he had done them. It felt as if he was not in control of his body, but without the pain he’d experienced at the Ministry, and without the pleasant, numb feeling that came with the Imperius Curse. He had a sneaking suspicion that whatever had happened was connected with Wormtail's visit, but he had no idea what it could have been.
Harry spent a great deal of time thinking back on that night, to try and piece together what had happened. When everyone had shown up at his door to “rescue” him, he had been both touched and a bit annoyed. He was grateful that he had friends that cared enough about him to come rescue him and even risk getting into trouble, but he was irritated that his life was always one big crisis. He was sick to death of being the bloody Boy-Who-Lived, and everything that came with it. He just wanted some normality, for a change.
Sitting outside, alone in the approaching dusk, certain thoughts swirled around in his already crowded mind. Besides his normal dark memories, Harry found new things to dwell on that were equally troubling: girls.
Last school year the girl on his mind was Cho Chang, the pretty Ravenclaw seeker. She had been the first girl to make his stomach do flip-flops and tie his tongue in knots, making him stumble over his words when in her presence.
But events this past year had changed Harry profoundly. By the end of the year, he'd had little patience to deal with Cho's histrionics, and no energy to put into trying to make things work with her. Too much had happened, too much had changed. Although he still found her attractive, he no longer cared about pursuing anything beyond friendship. Even the fact that she was dating Michael Corner did not affect him in the least. He had too many other things to occupy his attention in the past several weeks. Then Ginny happened.
Thinking back, Harry had to admit that his relationship with Ginny had come from nowhere and progressed very fast. He still didn’t know for sure what made him notice her that night. It could have been her new look, fresh from the salon with Hermione. Maybe it was the wise way she looked at him, with those knowing brown eyes that cut right to his soul. Partly it was their conversation, and realising they had so many things in common. Perhaps she was just the right girl, and it had been the right time.
Whatever the reason had been, Ginny and Harry had clicked that night. Harry was resigned to the fact that he may never understand how he and Ginny had gone from mere friends to snogging each other senseless in one evening. Truthfully, he didn’t care. He was just grateful they had, because he didn’t have the reputation of being a fast mover in the girl department. The less time he had to think about these things, the better.
He had always held Ron’s sister in high regard, even though he hadn’t thought much about her in the past. Somewhere in the back of his mind he had always known she was pretty - as pretty as Cho, certainly, though in a different way. Where Cho was more exotic, Ginny was the girl-next-door type. Both were beautiful in their own right, just in different ways.
Because she had not talked in front of him up until this year, there were so many things to discover about her. Harry felt he could take a lifetime getting to know the petite red-head, memorising every aspect of her personality, and still find something new that surprised him.
The fact that they had so much in common was another plus. Ginny knew some of what he was going through - what he had gone through - and she supported him fully; although she was not above putting him in his place when he needed it. Certainly, they shared some bad experiences with Voldemort and both now bore the scars of those experiences. Yet they also shared many other things. Experiences and interests like flying, Quidditch, Gryffindor House, summers at the Burrow, pranks played by Fred and George, memories of Sirius, time spent at Grimmauld Place. Thinking about this made him realise that he’d never had that much in common with Cho, and maybe that’s why his infatuation with her had dissolved.
Ginny made him smile. She had Fred and George’s sense of fun, Ron’s temper, and her parents’ strong values. She could be silly at times, yet she knew when to be serious. She was kind, pretty, smart, and tough- everything a bloke wants in a girl. She had certainly proven how tough she was in June, despite her deceptively small stature. Although one of the youngest and smallest in the group who had gone to rescue Sirius at the Department of Mysteries, she had held her own against fully trained, grown Death Eaters. More than that - she had earned Harry’s respect, not as Ron’s little sister, but as his friend.
She had fought Tom Riddle for over a year and was still able to maintain a normal life. After seeing her dream of the Chamber of Secrets, Harry marvelled again at her strength. Tom had tortured her mind and body, an experience Harry knew well. The young Dark Lord had literally tried to suck the life out of eleven-year-old Ginny, yet he had failed. A small part of him felt proud to know that he'd had a part in thwarting Voldemort's younger self, by saving Ginny’s life.
Despite these new feelings that brought him glimpses of happiness, Harry was miserable. Now that he had time to think - now that Ginny and his friends were gone - life was back to being almost intolerable. Thoughts of Sirius, Cedric, his parents, of Voldemort and the prophecy - they all swirled in his head like a tornado. Even sleep gave him no relief. Every time he closed his eyes he’d see someone he’d lost or could lose; the events of the final task of the Tri-Wizard Tournament; Sirius falling through the veil; or the Chamber of Secrets as Ginny had dreamed it, and he’d wake up screaming in a cold sweat.
Then there were the nights he’d dream of Voldemort, and fear would grip him that he might see Voldemort harming one of his friends or someone else he knew, especially Ginny, and he’d be powerless to stop it. Harry was aware that Ginny was in as much danger as him right now. Voldemort wouldn’t hesitate to use the people Harry valued most in the world against him, and he already knew about Ginny. He had done that with Sirius, and now Sirius was dead, lost to him forever. If anything happened to any of the Weasleys or Hermione, he didn't know if he could live with himself.
He pondered these things as he wandered the neighbourhood aimlessly, in self-imposed isolation. Sometimes he idly kicked at rocks to amuse himself, as he ambled down Wisteria Lane or Magnolia Crescent. Often he found himself in the same deserted park he’d hung out in last summer, thinking about Sirius or Ginny.
He knew that an Order member was never far away, and that comforted him somewhat, as much as it irritated him. He’d even heard Tonks knock over a dustbin on more than one occasion, or make rude comments under her breath to less than friendly neighbours. He had to restrain himself from taunting her about it when it happened. If any Death Eaters were following him, he could put his guards in danger by alerting would-be attackers to their presence. Besides, he already drew enough attention to himself - he didn’t need people to see him talking to invisible people, on top of the strange looks he already got on a daily basis.
As he wandered the neighbourhood each day, occasionally he’d notice neighbours poking their heads out of their doorways or windows, to stare at him disapprovingly as he wandered. As this was not unusual for him, he paid it no mind and ignored them. Apparently Tonks had a harder time understanding that he’d been treated like an unwanted house-guest in this neighbourhood for years, thanks to the nasty rumours spread by the Dursleys. Most didn’t dare approach him, and although it bothered him slightly, he didn’t dwell on it much. After all, in one more year he’d be seventeen and through with the Muggle world for good.
‘That is,’ he thought tiredly as he ran a hand through his messier-than-usual hair, “if I live that long….’
Feeling his hair sticking up wildly made him wonder what Mrs. Weasley might say if she could see him now. His face was beginning to take on the gaunt, pinched look he usually got after spending too much time with his “family”. Harry wasn’t sure whether it was the meagre meals, the constant hostility, or the lack of sleep that was to blame. He hadn’t washed his clothes in days, because that would require him to stay inside the house - something that was highly frowned upon these days - so he was looking rather more rumpled than usual.
He had been permitted to take a bath last night, however - but only after Dudley had used up all the hot water and left puddles all over the floor. This was something his aunt and uncle were quick to hold Harry responsible for - immediately after he exited the bathroom, he was accosted. Even though he had done his best to clean it up, apparently the water had seeped through the floor and was dripping from the ceiling into the living room.
Uncle Vernon had been in a rage after being hit by several large drops of water, as he tried to watch the 11:00 news. Dudley, of course, had made himself scarce, but not before he had gleefully informed his parents that Harry was the one currently using the bathroom. Because of this, he was now rationed to one, five-minute bath per week, under the strict supervision of Uncle Vernon. Harry shuddered to think of how his beefy uncle would enforce that particular rule.
After being yelled at for fifteen solid minutes, Harry finally managed to return to his room, only to have to scrounge for clean pyjamas and rummage around for his hairbrush, which had been missing-in-action for more than a week. Searching for another fifteen minutes through the piles of clothes and other rubbish strewn about the room, he finally gave up and combed the thick mess as best he could with his fingers, muttering to himself the whole time and wishing he had some of that Sleekeasy potion that Hermione had once used.
Following another restless night of sleep, his hair now stuck up in even stranger angles than usual, causing more than one person to do a double-take and frown crossly as he passed them on the street. He’d tried to wet it down, but without a brush it was a hopeless endeavour. He’d have to think of a way to nick a comb or brush from Dudley's room, he supposed, if his didn't turn up soon.
The July heat was just beginning to show itself, as Harry found a deserted park bench and plopped himself down. The air had a musty smell to it as the rising sun burned off the last of the morning dew. He could tell already that it was going to be a sticky, humid sort of day that might be followed by a thunderstorm at some point. Once again he wished he had access to the news, not only to keep tabs on Voldemort and strange activity in the Muggle world, but also for a simple weather forecast. Perhaps he should think about places he could go in case of a sudden storm.
As he was sitting there thinking about these things, a shadow from behind made him jump. Turning swiftly, he cursed himself for not being vigilant enough to have his wand ready in case of attack from behind. Through the beating of his heart however, he was suddenly grateful he hadn't done anything rash. It would be difficult to explain to the figure behind him why he had a magic wand, much less why he had it trained on her. Harry squinted up at the silhouette of Claire Smith.
Harry hadn't seen Claire since the weekend had ended. After Mr. Weasley had woken Dudley's friends from the spell Hermione had put them under, Harry had caught a glimpse of the "gang" leaving Privet Drive, from his upstairs bedroom window. All of them had looked the worse for wear, but even after passing out from too much alcohol and Merlin knew what else, Claire had somehow managed to still look good.
She stood over him now, her face partially obscured from the morning sun, and looked at him curiously. "Fancy meeting you here," she said conversationally, as if it were the most natural thing in the world.
"I didn't know you lived in this neighbourhood," Harry said, so surprised to see her that he forgot to be irritated. Claire had teased and tormented him back in primary school, and this weekend she had done her best to cause a rift between him and Ginny. Harry quickly caught himself and attempted to scowl at her but, try as he might, he couldn't bring up negative feelings towards her. She stood there next to him, her blond hair impeccably sleek and her clothes perfect and stylish, and Harry couldn't help but notice how beautiful she looked. What's more, she seemed to have an expression of genuine concern on her face.
“We moved here two years ago,” she said. Frowning, she commented, “You don’t look so good, Harry. Is everything all right?”
Briefly Harry considered what to tell her. The truth was nothing in his life was all right, but how could she be expected to understand that? He couldn’t even tell her a fraction of what was wrong, not that he cared to anyway.
Finally he said, in what he hoped was a nonchalant voice, “Never better. And you?”
“Well,” she sighed tiredly, “that might take a while. Mind if I sit?” she asked. Harry noticed for the first time that her eyes didn’t look as confident and determined as they had the other night. Instead, they looked almost… sad.
“Okay,” Harry said, scooting over on the bench to allow her room to sit down. He waited for her to continue.
“My life is a mess, Harry,” she said sadly in a soft voice. Something about the way she spoke led him to believe she was being truthful. “I found out last night that my parents are divorcing.”
“Oh,” was the most Harry could come up with in response. He had no experience with such issues. He couldn’t remember much about his own parents, and his aunt and uncle were all he knew as far as parents went. He did have Mr. and Mrs. Weasley as surrogate parents, but they couldn’t take the place of his parents no matter how much they tried. No one could, really.
“Er… I really don’t know if I’m the best person to talk to about this,” Harry said hesitantly. How could he say he envied her for even having parents?
Claire didn’t seem to hear him, however. “I came home last night from Daphne’s house to find my mother packing,” she said, her eyes filling with tears. She swiped them away angrily, as if they were offensive to her. Her demeanour was rigid and angry now.
Harry’s uncomfortable feeling intensified. It was similar to the feeling he had with Cho last year when she had cried on his shoulder over Cedric. He didn’t know what to do other than just let her talk and nod appropriately. Anything he thought to say sounded stupid, because the fact was he didn’t know what she was going through.
“She’s moving to Paris with her new boyfriend,” Claire said bitterly, sniffling quietly.
Harry wished fervently he had a hanky or tissue on hand. He searched his brain for something to say. “Er… I’m sorry,” he said lamely, wishing he could say something better - something brilliant that would make her stop crying.
Surprisingly, she chuckled through her tears. “Thanks,” she said gratefully. “I appreciate that. I know I haven’t been very nice to you in the past, and I didn’t exactly make a good impression the other night, so that means a lot to me, Harry.”
She looked at him closely, still sniffling slightly. “What’s up with you?” she asked. “And please don’t tell me ‘nothing’. You look like hell.”
“Thanks,” Harry said dryly.
“No,” she laughed lightly, brightening somewhat. “I didn’t mean it like that. You just look knackered. Like you haven’t slept soundly in weeks - almost as if you’re carrying the weight of the world on your shoulders,” she explained.
Harry thought wryly that she wasn’t far off the mark. “I just have a lot on my mind,” he answered truthfully.
“Is it anything to do with that red-headed girl that came to your house the other night? Ginny?” she asked.
Harry tried to detect a hint of malice in her voice but couldn’t find any. Since she was being so friendly, he supposed he ought to say something by way of explanation.
“Partly,” he said. “I’m just going through some things right now. I-I miss all my friends, especially Ginny.” He paused, unsure whether to say the last thing on his mind. Taking a deep breath, he added, “My... my Godfather died a few weeks ago.”
“Oh, Harry,” Claire gasped. “I’m sorry! I didn’t know. Were you close?”
Harry pursed his lips. Had he and Sirius been close? Not really. They hadn’t had time. ‘And now we never will, because of what I did.’ Harry felt his chest tighten and his breathing grow ragged. The anger and self-loathing was beginning to surface again and deep inside him he felt the snake stir.
“I had hoped we’d be,” he managed in a choked voice. “He couldn’t raise me because, er… well, he had to go away for a long time and couldn’t take me with him.” Harry paused. “I know he cared about me, though. He wanted me to live with him once he got some personal business cleared up. Now I have no one, really.” He swallowed hard.
“Sirius was the closest thing to a father I ever had.” He scowled deeply and tried to fight the rising pain that threatened to engulf him. He remembered what Ginny had told him last weekend, and tried to take comfort in the fact that it was not his fault Voldemort had tricked him. It was not his fault Sirius was dead.
Harry was not even aware that he had closed his eyes as he attempted to shove the pain back into place. He was so concentrated on not feeling, that the pain in his head took him completely by surprise. All at once, his scar burst open and he felt the snake inside him rearing, angry and black, anxious to be released.
He struggled to control it, but knew he was failing. His first thought was that he couldn’t let it escape because if it did, he didn’t know if he’d be able to fight it back into place. He was too tired, too weak. The snake wanted vengeance and it didn’t care who got in its way. Claire would be in danger. The Dursleys would be in danger. Potentially, anyone who crossed his path would be in danger. And it would be his fault…
Claire hadn’t noticed anything unusual about Harry until he cried out in pain and clutched his hands to his forehead. “Harry!” she exclaimed, touching his shoulder in concern. “What’s wrong?”
It was an innocent action, but it was enough to distract him. Just as suddenly as it had come, the battle with his inner demon was over. Harry Potter had lost.
***
[A/N: Thanks to everyone who reviewed and seemed so excited that I was back. You really make it all worth while! We are getting settled in and used to our new home. My job is going to be much more time intensive, but I’ll still make time for my writing. I just have to cut down on my urge to read all your stuff so much! It’s hard, because there are so many good authors and stories out there and I get inspiration from reading.
OK… on to business. Many of you have asked questions that I can’t respond to. Some authors write lengthy author’s notes and address everyone individually. As I post on several different sites, this is too time-consuming. Sorry… there aren’t enough hours in the day to accommodate everyone and sleep, too. But if you include your email with your review or email me personally, I’d be happy to respond to specific questions. I also can’t email you personally when I update. Two sites that I post on will send you an alert (www.checkmated.com and www.fanfiction.net ) when your favourite authors or stories are updated, though. That’s how I keep up with the stories that I follow.
About the story… just to clarify:
1. Yes, I wrote the poem. If you read it carefully, it may give you some clues about what will happen. Every line holds meaning and relates to HP and this story.
2. Harry does get more powerful in this story, but he’s still just a kid struggling to deal with the things life has thrown at him. He’s human, with all the flaws of humanity. I’m still trying to stay within the boundaries of canon (as of OotP), while stretching my own creativity. Not that I think JKR will do anything remotely like this in HBP, lol! Not even close!
3. I picture Stephen as akin to Robert Redford with some Harrison Ford and Sean Connery thrown in. You can picture him however you choose. He’s a complex character with a past almost as complex as Harry’s. I love him! And, he’s British.
4. This story alternates between the present and past. ]
Chapter 3: Tlilli Tlapalla
Chapter Two: Tlilli Tlapalla
Harry’s opened his eyes groggily to bright sunlight, and immediately closed them again. His head felt as if it would split in two at any moment. He could not remember feeling so weak in his whole life. It was as if he had been hit with several stunners and the Cruciatus Curse all at once.
He struggled to remember what had happened. The last clear memory he had was of sitting on the bench in the park with someone. But who had it been? Harry racked his aching brain and finally came up with a person he had not expected — Claire Smith. She had been talking about her parents' divorce, and then… then… what had happened next?
The effort to think was causing the dull ache in his temple to become a sharp throb. As a result, he decided it might be better to think about this later, when he didn’t feel as if his head would explode.
He let out a small groan and attempted to open his eyes again, fully expecting to see his small bedroom on Privet Drive, complete with Hedwig's cage and all his messy piles of clothes strewn about all over the floor.
Cautiously, he opened one eye and spied his glasses on the small bedside table. He put these on, then carefully sat up and surveyed his surroundings, which were nothing like his room at the Dursleys'. It was totally unfamiliar — light and airy, with bright stone walls, a stone floor, several throw rugs, and almost no decoration. The bed he was lying on was simple, made of some kind of feathers, and very soft with a down-filled pillow.
He was not covered with a blanket, but he saw one lying nearby. It was made up of vibrant colours of turquoise blue, orange, green, yellow, and red with white dispersed evenly throughout the design. The blanket was unusual, not only because it was completely different than anything Harry had ever seen, but because it was the only bit of decoration in the entire room besides the curtains covering the window, which were made of a similar pattern and material.
Besides the bed and nightstand, there was a bare table and two straight-back chairs. He was dressed differently too. He noticed he was not wearing a shirt, but had on tan trousers that were made of a light, cotton material. They were loose-fitting, tied with a drawstring, and similar to pyjamas - suitable for wearing out and about in a tropical environment as well as sleeping in. This place obviously was tropical, judging from the distant sounds of the ocean, cawing birds, and the oppressive heat.
He looked around and spotted a cotton robe that was more of a tunic, lying over one of the chairs. It appeared to be designed to be worn as a shirt, but it was long and flowing- coming to about his upper thigh. He unsteadily got out of bed and slipped it on reluctantly, thinking it was better than nothing. He also donned a pair of sandals he found near the door of the room, which fit him perfectly, to his surprise.
Walking over to the window, he caught a glimpse of the clear blue sky, a distant palm tree, and the sandy shore beyond. Definitely tropical, he thought grimly, wondering where he was, exactly.
Harry wondered briefly if he could have been kidnapped by Death Eaters, but dismissed the notion almost as soon as it entered his head. The place didn’t feel confining - the window was little more than an open hole in the wall covered by a curtain - and his instincts told him he was not in immediate danger. Whoever had brought him here may not be a friend, but they didn’t mean him harm, either. He doubted Death Eaters would allow him the luxury of a feather bed.
Suddenly, the sound of movement from outside the closed door had him scrambling to find his wand. He was frantically searching the area by the bed when the door was flung open and a man entered.
Harry’s first impression of Stephen Hunter was awe. He stood about six feet tall with sandy-brown hair, a deep golden tan, and a solid physique that screamed power. He stood quietly, surveying the scene in front of him with keen, blue eyes that seemed to drink in every inch of the room, including its occupant.
Harry had the feeling that he was being tested, and he immediately straightened up and looked back with a defiant glare. While he didn’t feel threatened — the man had neither a wand nor a weapon visible — he felt a need to stand tall and meet his cool gaze head-on. He wanted answers and the person standing in front of him was going to give them. His head was still pounding, however, and he struggled to remain steady on his feet without supporting himself.
The man noticed Harry’s difficulty. “For Merlin’s sake, lie down before you fall over! You shouldn’t be out of bed yet, anyway,” he said gruffly.
Harry bristled at the sound of the man's harsh voice. It sounded too much like Uncle Vernon for his liking. However, his next comment was more to Harry's liking, as it sounded more civil and gave the appearance of concern. “The potion is affecting your equilibrium and I’d wager you have a pissing good headache, too. Use some common sense and lie back down.”
Grudgingly, Harry complied, mostly because he had no choice. He knew if he didn’t sit down soon he’d fall over, and that would be plain embarrassing. Friend or enemy — he refused to let this man see him fall on his arse.
“W-who are you?” Harry managed to say between clenched teeth. “W-where am I?”
“Name’s Hunter. Stephen Hunter,” he said in a clipped voice that was definitely English. He paused, obviously looking for a reaction from Harry. When he didn’t get one, he continued. “You’re on the island of Tlilli Tlapalla.”
Harry waited for him to continue, but the man remained silent. With growing irritation, he retorted sharply, although it pained him, “Is that supposed to mean something to me?”
“Apparently not,” Hunter said dryly, with a hint of amusement. “I suppose my reputation must be dying down. Good to know,” he with unmasked satisfaction. “I hate the whole celebrity business, anyway. Not like I ever asked to be famous. It’s one commodity I can live without.” He moved to the table and sat down in the chair, facing Harry.
“Yeah,” Harry scoffed, thinking of all his trouble with the media, especially Rita Skeeter and the Daily Prophet. “I know what you mean.”
Narrowing his eyes, he winced and put a hand over them to shield them from the sun. “OK, so now I know your name, but who are you and why am I here? What happened?”
“You don’t know?” Hunter said incredulously.
Harry shook his head, his green eyes darkened dangerously and his jaw set. He hated feeling ignorant and stupid. It seemed he was fated to never know the details about his own life, and that made his temper rise.
Not only did he not know where he was, he thought in barely suppressed rage and frustration, but he couldn’t remember anything after the park bench and Claire Smith. He had some fuzzy recollections and images, but they didn’t make sense and his head hurt too badly to try to sort it out.
Hunter sighed heavily. He seemed agitated, but Harry couldn’t understand why. “Still the same old Dumbledore, I see,” Hunter muttered bitterly to himself. “Still playing God with other people’s lives. Making decisions that impact others without consulting them.”
Even though Harry tended to agree with Hunter on some level and had been thinking the same thing himself just seconds earlier, he didn’t like hearing the man speak ill of his Headmaster. Dumbledore may not be perfect, but he had kept Harry alive all these years. He deserved some respect.
“Albus Dumbledore is a great wizard!” Harry exclaimed indignantly. “I don’t appreciate hearing you insult-” he yelped suddenly from pain, his head throbbing violently. He thought he might retch, it hurt so horribly, but his anger usurped the pain.
Hunter chuckled with amusement, which only made Harry angrier. “I see he has a loyal fan in you, my boy. I’d expect nothing less from James’s son.”
Harry opened his eyes and stared at him in surprise. For a moment he forgot to be angry. “Y-you knew my Dad?” he asked cautiously.
“Yes, Harry, I knew your father. He was a fine man and a good friend. He… saved my life once,” Hunter said in a sad, stiff voice.
“How?” Harry asked with trepidation. Was this another example of his father doing something stupid and then later regretting it, like with Snape?
“That’s a story for another time,” Hunter said shortly. Seeing Harry’s temper begin to stir, he added with an exasperated sigh. “But I see that won’t be good enough, will it?”
He took a deep breath. “Without going into great detail, your parents and I went to school together for a few years. We were all in the Order of the Phoenix back when Voldemort was around the first time.”
Through his pain, it registered that Hunter had said the name without fear or hesitation. He supposed that was a good sign…he hoped. Harry waited patiently for him to continue.
With hesitation, Hunter seemed to pick his words carefully. When he spoke, he spoke slowly but with obvious respect. “Your father was a brave man, Harry. He always thought about everyone else first, especially in the heat of battle. He was a true Gryffindor. It’s a pity you never got the chance to know him.”
“Y-you went to Hogwarts?” Harry squeaked as he laid his head back down, choosing to ignore the man’s last comment. He didn’t want to think about his father now. “You were in the Order of the Phoenix?” he managed, feeling light-headed. He felt as if he might pass out. The whole room was spinning and he closed his eyes tightly, willing it to stop before he became ill.
“Yes, to both, but it was a long time ago. I was in Gryffindor a few years ahead of your parents.” Harry thought it might be his imagination, but Hunter’s voice seemed to crack a little. It was as if he were revisiting something he hadn’t thought about for a very long time.
“I was Quidditch Captain when your dad joined the team,” he said in a far off voice. Harry had the impression that Hunter had forgotten he was even there.
Hunter chuckled softly to himself. “James was an excellent Chaser! Mariah always said he should’ve gone pro,” the man said softly. “We trounced Slytherin good that year, too!”
Hunter looked over at the boy on the bed, jerking himself out of his nostalgia. “But enough about that…. How are you feeling?”
He frowned and studied the boy’s pale face. “Harry?” he said curiously when he did not receive and answer.
Harry tried to focus on the words, but he was drifting in and out of consciousness. His heart was telling him he might be able to learn to trust this man who was a Gryffindor and who used to be friends with his father. He had known his parents... and he didn’t seem like a Death Eater, as far as he could tell.
A faint, snake-like voice inside his head whispered seductively, ‘Petttigrew wass a Gryfffindor, too, Haarrry. He wass your father’ss besst friendd…You don’tt know thiss Sstephenn Hunntterr. Why sshould we trusstt himmm?’
Harry thought he heard the man yelling for someone, but it was difficult to tell. He really was very tired…. Maybe he’d just keep his eyes closed and rest. He was too tired to listen to the man or the snake right now. If he could just sleep, then they’d all go away and he’d have some peace….
Yes, sleep was what he needed…. Maybe he’d dream… nice… dreams… about Ginny…
Gratefully, his head lulled back and he surrendered to the darkness.
***
Stephen breathed a sigh of relief. The boy was tougher than he looked, that was certain. He should never have been able to get out of bed on his own this soon. The fact that he had, unassisted, and even held an intelligent conversation was astounding. Luckily Chuen had been able to work her magic and stabilise him once again after he passed out. This time, Hunter thought grimly, with any luck the boy should sleep until the potion truly worked its way out of his system.
Harry had several things working against him, as far as he could tell. The potion Voldemort had slipped him was enough to render a grown man incompetent for a good long time. However, the fools from the Order had compounded the damage by giving him a sedative to knock him out and keep him incapacitated indefinitely. The two potions did not mix well; they were never intended to be used together. It was truly a wonder the boy wasn't dead. By all rights, he should have been.
Looking down at the sleeping form, Stephen felt a mixture of emotions. His own son, Adam, would have been about this age, had he survived. Usually he avoided thinking about Mariah and Adam. Doing so only increased the intensity of his anger at the injustice of their deaths. His fist clenched and his jaw tightened at the mere thought of them.
Hunter remembered the day that Mariah had told him she was pregnant. He had been working as an Auror for both the Ministry and the Order of the Phoenix, and was rarely home. Voldemort was growing stronger by the day and the number of his supporters was at an all time high. That, alone, kept him away most of the day and sometimes into the wee hours of the night. Mariah was finishing her training as a healer and was just as busy. The addition of a baby complicated their lives. It was a complication they could not afford.
Once the shock wore off and they had time to get used to the idea, however, their whole attitude changed. By the time Adam came along, he was the focus of their whole world. Both cut back on their hours and work and made the family their priority. He remembered rushing through his work just so he could get home early to spend a few precious hours with his wife and son. It was the normal, mundane things like feeding and bathing the baby and then watching him sleep that he enjoyed the most. He loved to watch him sleep….
A door somewhere in Hunter's mind slammed shut. He refused to think about the past any longer. The past was gone. It was never coming back. Voldemort and Dumbledore had seen to that. Hunter vowed that whatever it took, someone would pay.
*
Harry’s body was bathed in a bright, warm light. The light seemed to be white, but at the same time it contained all the colours of the rainbow and was the most beautiful thing Harry had ever seen. He felt safe inside the light- and freer than he could ever remember feeling. It was as if a heavy weight had been holding him down and now he was suddenly let loose. The feeling was intoxicating and wonderful. He was flying! Briefly he wondered if he was in Heaven.
Suddenly the light faded and he found himself lying on his back in a garden full of indescribable beauty. He rose up and looked around. Off in the distance, he could make out the silhouette of an inviting little cottage with a quaint stone walkway winding up to it. Along the walk were flowers and fragrant herbs, lush carpets of grass, and sprawling trees with wide canopies of green leaves.
The temperature was just right. It was somewhere between hot and cold- a perfect balance of the two. A gentle breeze blew in from the east, tickling his skin and ruffling his already dishevelled mop of hair. He breathed in the clean, crisp air and filled his lungs to capacity, then slowly exhaled.
Everything here felt perfect and strangely familiar. He walked up the lane to the cottage and the door swung open of its own accord. Harry looked around and he instantly felt at home. The interior was as warm and inviting as the exterior. He was just admiring the large stone fireplace when a shadow fell on the doorway. Harry spun around and his heart did a flip. It was Ginny.
“Harry!” she said excitedly. “You’re here!” She looked as if she had been there awhile. Her hands were full of flowers and she had tucked a few in her long, curly hair which was tied up messily with a white ribbon. The effect was both whimsical and attractive. Harry’s heart beat rapidly in his chest and he found himself afraid to move, least he wake up and find her gone.
“Aren’t you going to say hello, Harry?” she asked in a curious voice that was both sweet and sultry. She moved closer, her eyes dancing with mischief.
“Hello, Harry,” he mumbled awkwardly as he took a tentative step towards her, hardly daring to believe she was really there.
She reached up and smacked him playfully. “You prat!” she giggled.
Feeling the contact, Harry knew it wasn’t a dream. “Ginny?” he asked, slightly dazed. “Is it really you?”
She nodded fiercely. He pulled her close to him awkwardly and held her tight, afraid that if he let go, she would disappear and he would be all alone.
“Merlin, I missed you!” he exclaimed through her hair. Suddenly he pulled back and looked at her suspiciously. “Is this real? One minute I was on a park bench in Surrey, then I wake up in a strange room with someone who claimed to know my parents and a splitting headache, and now I’m here with you. Do you know what’s going on?”
“Well,” she said slowly, looking at him seriously. “Sort of… but I’m really not certain,” she began, pursing her lips as if debating whether to continue. She turned away from him and busied herself with finding a vase to put the flowers in.
Harry sat down at the counter that separated the kitchen area from the open living room. “Ginny…” he said with a hint of annoyance in his voice. He could tell she was hiding something important from him. “Just tell me what it is you think is going on.”
She stopped and looked towards him- wide-eyed at his tone, but not cowering in fear. Making up her mind, she whispered, “I heard Mum and Dad talking… something about taking you away where you’d be safe and get the help you needed to be able to fight V-Voldemort off. I didn’t get to hear much more than that because Mum’s on to the extendable ears.” She made a face. “I now have kitchen duty for a week,” she said, grumpily, being a bit rougher with the flowers than necessary.
She took a deep, calming breath and continued with her story, still making a pointed effort not to look at him directly. To Harry, she seemed uncertain about something, like she was trying to make up her mind how much to tell him. “It was late so I decided to go to bed. The last thing I remember was going to sleep and wishing desperately that I could, uh… see you,” she said, biting her bottom lip in what he was discovering was the way she showed her nervousness. Trying to change the subject, she asked, “What was the last thing you remember?”
“Dunno- let me think a minute…” Harry said, trying to remember where he had been and what he had been doing just before he arrived. He was silent for a moment before he continued.
“I was talking to this man — Hunter, he said his name was — and I remember I had a splitting headache. Then I felt dizzy and sick and there was this voice in my head. I-I must have passed out.” He furrowed his brow and concentrated. “I remember wanting to go to sleep so that I could dream… about, er, you,” he said, blushing furiously as he stammered through the last part.
A sudden thought clicked in his mind. “This has something to do with what happened the other night, doesn’t it?” he said. “You said it was called dreamwalking. Is that what we’re doing, do you think?”
Ginny nodded. “Probably. From the little I know of the talent, it very rarely happens like this, though. Usually the witch or wizard needs physical contact. But there have been instances when two people who… uh… who s-share a deep bond and possess a great deal of magical power, can share dreams without physical contact.” She too was turning a pretty shade of pink and refused to meet Harry’s gaze.
Harry felt that it was as good an explanation as any. He didn't understand why Ginny should be embarrassed. “Whatever caused it, Ginny, I’m just glad that we’re here.” Looking around, he added, “Where ever here is.”
Ginny blushed again, but did not shirk away from him. “I can solve that mystery. When I was younger and I fancied you, I used to imagine what our house might be like if we ever married. This is it. I think I was dreaming about us and… well….” She turned away and refused to look at him.
He could see that she was very embarrassed and wanted to put her mind at ease. It really was a lovely house- very homey and comfortable. Harry had that strange feeling again… like he’d been here before. He felt so safe here, like nothing bad could enter into this house as long as they were there together.
Walking around, he made a show of inspecting it before he turned to her and smiled. “I think it’s brilliant, Ginny,” he said truthfully. Ginny grinned back, looking as pleased as if he had just given her a million galleons.
“Wait a minute…” he said, suddenly growing serious. She began to look worried as he walked over to her and stood in front of her face, looking down at her earnestly. “Did you just say, ‘when you fancied me’ a minute ago? Does that mean you don’t fancy me anymore? Because, if you don’t fancy me anymore, Ginny Weasley, I think I deserve to know before I get my heart broken.” His face twisted in a teasing smile.
“Hmmm,” Ginny said coyly, leaning closer to him so that they were almost nose to nose. She was so close to him, Harry could feel her breath tickling his cheek. “Then I haven’t done a good enough job of showing you how I feel, have I? I suppose I’ll have to do something about that, won’t I?”
“I suppose you will,” Harry said softly just before their lips met in a sweet kiss that deepened almost instantly. Harry felt more alive than he’d ever felt in his whole life. It was pure bliss. He wanted it to go on forever, to never let it end- yet at the same time he realised that they needed to slow down. Reluctantly, he broke apart from the red-headed temptress who was causing havoc with his emotions.
Somehow, he could sense his own feelings mirrored in her, and this scared him slightly. It brought to mind an issue he had wanted to discuss with her since last week.
“Ginny, how is it - I mean, why… er…” he stumbled, before trying again. Placing her hand over his heart, he asked, “Do you feel that?”
She nodded, looking serious and scared all at once. Harry could feel the waves of emotion rolling off of her. There were so many feelings flying about, he had a difficult time naming them or knowing if the feeling belonged to him or her. It felt as if her emotions were tangled with his, and they were all jumbled together creating one confusing entity.
At the same time, as scary as it was, Harry felt closer to her than he had ever felt to any other person in his whole life. If he closed his eyes, he imagined that they were one person.
“How is it that I can feel your emotions almost as strongly as I can feel my own?” he asked in wonder.
“It’s our bond,” Ginny said quietly. Seeing his questioning look and feeling his confusion, she tried to explain. “When a witch and wizard bond, it’s as if they become one person. The closer they are, the more their auras become intertwined. Sometimes, they can almost seem to communicate without words - a kind of telepathy, but more basic. From what Mum says, feeling someone else’s emotions can almost seem like mind-reading at times. The closer they feel, both in proximity and spiritually, the stronger the bond. It's not uncommon, really. Even Muggles have been known to bond, although not to the degree witches and wizards do.”
She pulled away and he felt her self-doubt and hesitation. Something was troubling her.
“What’s the matter, Ginny?” he asked, worriedly. “Did I do something wrong?”
She shot him a look and he felt her annoyance. “No!” she exclaimed softly. “I- It’s just… hard to explain.” She sighed. “Bonds are complicated, Harry. No two are alike. The fact that we bonded so quickly, just… scares me.”
Harry felt her frustration as she balled her fists into tight knots. “I mean, how is it that we can know each other for years, and then in one night go from friendly acquaintances to life bonded? It’s strange, don't you think?”
Through the aggravation, Harry felt her fear and… something else. Wistfulness? Hope? “Maybe,” Harry said slowly, choosing his words carefully, “maybe before, it wasn’t the right time.”
She snorted loudly. “How do you figure that?” she asked, doubtfully.
“Well,” Harry said, “maybe we needed to grow up a bit before we recognised what was in front of our faces all along.”
She smiled and Harry felt some of her negative emotions dissipate. They were replaced by amusement. “Maybe you needed to grow up a bit before you recognised what was right in front of your face, Mr. Potter. I seem to recall knowing we were destined for each other from a very early age!” She raised her eyebrow in challenge.
He adopted her light tone and set aside his questions. “In case you hadn’t noticed, Ginny, I'm not that clever when it comes to girls.”
Ginny heartily agreed, earning her a retaliatory tickle session that had each of them breathless and snogging each other senseless in the end. From that point on, they made a silent but mutual agreement to let the issue die for now and just enjoy their time together. All too soon it was over.
***
Hours later he awoke to the sound of beating drums. His body felt heavy and cumbersome once again and his body still ached. At first he thought his head was still pounding as well, but as awareness overtook him he realised the pounding was coming from outside. Once again he fumbled for his glasses and shoved them on his face. He noticed that his head was not hurting nearly as badly as it had earlier, although the drums were not exactly helping.
Harry had never heard drums quite like these. It reminded him of an old BBC documentary his class had once been shown back in primary school. It sounded tribal and the beat was steady and rhythmic.
Part of him wanted to stay in bed and return to his wonderful dream of Ginny. He could still feel her presence, and for a moment he allowed himself to revel in it. The beating of the drums, however, served as a reminder that he was still in a predicament- he had no idea where he was, or why. Who was this Stephen Hunter, and what were those drums? Where were they coming from?
Curiosity finally won over comfort as he stumbled out of bed and slipped on the same sandals he had worn earlier. Someone must have taken them off, he realised, because they were once again by the door.
Creeping quietly out the wooden door into a dark courtyard, he took stock of his surroundings. The structure of the building seemed to be square, with the middle open to a small garden. His room was halfway down the left side of the corridor and there appeared to be an opening up ahead which led to the outside.
As he approached the breezeway, he could see the glow of a bright light against the night sky. The drumming was coming from outside the house and, as he approached, he heard voices chanting and singing in some foreign language that was like nothing he had ever heard before.
What Harry saw when he cleared the breezeway took his breath away. Spread out before him was a vast, ancient city of stone. Small square houses and larger buildings dotted the landscape. Most impressive of all was an enormous pyramid-like structure that seemed to be at the centre of the city. It was, by far, taller than any other structure around - over 400 feet tall - and had at least five distinct levels. At the apex of the structure, a flat surface served as a base for an ornate stone building. Various carvings and statues adorned the various levels, and a wide column of narrow stairs cascaded down the front like a waterfall. Harry had never seen anything like it before in his life.
Harry followed the beat of the drums to a nearby structure, which appeared to be an arena of some sort. The arena was magically lit to illuminate the grassy playing field, which was shaped like a large capital I. Spectator stands stood on either side of the arena and were filled to capacity with people.
The natives were some of the most curious people Harry had ever seen. Looking at them all bunched together in the arena, Harry was flabbergasted. Hundreds of dark-skinned people dressed in skimpy tribal clothing filled the stone stands. They wore elaborate gold jewellery - even nose rings - and painted their faces with odd white, yellow, red, and black face-paint. Three large men wearing tribal masks and body paint, as well as elaborate, colourful costumes and large feather headdresses, stood in the middle of the arena beating drums and chanting.
The people sat silent in anticipation, watching the ceremony with reverence. Harry was able to identify Hunter sitting apart among a group of the most finely dressed natives. These appeared to be nobles or leaders of some sort. He was dressed in Western-style clothing suitable for the tropical environment - khaki jungle shorts, a white t-shirt, a khaki over-vest and boots. He was sitting up straight and giving his full attention to the drummers, but Harry had the distinct impression that he was aware of everything in his surroundings.
Sure enough, he turned his head slightly and looked Harry straight in the eye in such a way that it seemed he had hardly moved. Hunter’s blue eyes bore into Harry and sent an unmistakable message - don’t move or make a sound. Harry was too overwhelmed to do either. He stood silently in the shadows, waiting to see what would happen next.
He didn’t have to wait long. Suddenly, the beating stopped and all eyes shifted to the man sitting on Hunter’s right. The native, an old man though still in the prime of his life and dressed in a fine silk toga with gold sandals and golden jewellery, stood up slowly and said something in his native tongue. He then clapped his hands once, and the people in the crowd began to call out and click their tongues in anticipation.
The old man, whom Harry assumed was the king or chief, held up his hands for silence and the crowd immediately stilled. It was so quiet Harry was sure that someone might hear him breathing. He stood frozen in fear, hiding in the shadows.
Harry watched in amazement as the chief began to rub his hands together. Faster and faster his hand went, creating friction and something else. A bright blue flame began to form around the chief’s hands. The faster he rubbed, the brighter the flame became until Harry could no longer see the man’s hands through the glow. It was one of the brightest lights Harry could ever remember seeing. So bright was it, that it seemed white now, instead of the original blue. He resisted the urge to throw his hands over his eyes but found himself squinting from the brightness.
Suddenly, the man threw the light high up in the air where it exploded, causing the crowd to gasp in delight as a thousand fragments lit up the night sky. They seemed to sparkle and glow, not unlike Fred and George’s Catherine Wheels from the previous year, except a hundred times brighter and more beautiful. Harry found himself gasping in awe along with the crowd.
When he looked back at the arena, the drummers had disappeared. In their place stood two tall, well-built men dressed in little more than loincloths. Both men bowed ceremoniously to the chief who nodded to them in approval, and then - to Harry’s surprise - they turned to Hunter and bowed again. Hunter did not stand, but also acknowledged them with a curt nod of approval.
The chief clapped his hands again and a ball about the size of a Quaffle magically appeared at the men’s feet. A third man, whom Harry had not noticed before, walked up from the sidelines and picked up the ball. He too, turned and bowed to first the chief, and then Hunter, in much the same way the other two had.
Again the chief and Hunter returned the courtesy with nods of approval. A cheer went up from the crowd as the chief took his seat and the players took their positions at opposite ends of the court. The man with the ball - who appeared to be the referee - stood in the middle and waited for the crowd to calm.
During all this, Harry saw Hunter lean in slightly and speak to the chief softly. He did this so subtly that if Harry hadn’t been watching closely, he might have easily missed the exchange. Harry saw the chief’s eyes widen and his head jerk up in surprise. To his great shock the chief looked directly at him and, just as the referee was about to throw the ball into play, he let out a sharp call that sounded a great deal like stop!
Every eye in the arena turned and the silence was deafening. It was clear that this was a very unusual occurrence. The people in the stands stood or looked around, gaping at the chief in fear and reverence and clearly wondering what was happening.
He turned to the shadows where Harry was hiding, trying to be as still and inconspicuous as possible. To his horror, the man made a beckoning motion with his hand. It was obvious to Harry that his cover was blown - he had no choice but to come out of the shadows.
Wondering what was to happen next, Harry cautiously moved into the light, silently cursing himself for not taking the time to look for his wand before he left the relative safety of his room. Upon seeing him, the crowd gasped and began to murmur among themselves, some pointing and covering their mouths in surprise.
Harry was not sure what to do. Should he run and hide, or face this situation like a Gryffindor? He had no guarantees of his safety either way, but running away seemed the smarter choice.
Glancing at Stephen, he saw the older man silently giving him a signal to do what the chief wanted and come forward. Hesitating only a moment, Harry stuck out his chin determinedly and stepped out onto the field, making his way towards Hunter and the chief.
He tried not to look at the people in the crowd as he passed, and kept his eyes glued on the man who claimed to know his father. He put his trust in this connection and hoped that it would be enough to see him through. All the while, the dull ache in his head continued to throb painfully. He could feel the snake begin to stir and he willed himself to not lose control.
Harry stopped at the bottom of the stands and looked up at the chief, who was standing and looking down at him steadfastly. The old man seemed to be sizing up the slight teenager with the pale face, jet black hair, and bright emerald eyes set determinedly behind the strange round spectacles.
On impulse Harry felt the need to show the chief respect. After all, if he was greeting the Queen, he’d behave in a courteous and respectful manner, wouldn’t he? Making his decision, he immediately dropped into a slight bow in imitation of what he had witnessed earlier.
This seemed to greatly please the chief and his people, who let out a delighted laugh. He turned to Hunter and said something in a language Harry could not understand. Stephen understood perfectly, though, and rose to address Harry.
“Mr. Potter,” he said in a stiff, formal voice. “The great chief, Tecuhtl, would like to welcome you to the island of Tlilli Tlapalla. He requests that you stay and watch the ball game, an ancient sport that dates back to the time before the evil Spaniards came with their guns and diseases and conquered the people of Mesoamerica. He hopes that you will be pleased by the level of competition, for it is a highly anticipated match between two very talented players.”
“I-I’m… sure… alright," he said, making up his mind. "Please tell him that I would be happy to accept his invitation,” Harry said in what he hoped was a respectful voice.
Stephen nodded curtly and turned to relay the message. Harry could see the chief curl his lips in a smile that clearly showed how pleased he was with the exchange. He said something to the man on his right, who scampered out of his seat. Everyone along the row shifted down, bumping out the last man in the aisle, who looked disgruntled but abided without question. This made a vacancy for Harry to sit next to the chief on his right-hand side.
Harry had the feeling this was a place of honour, and felt a wave of panic overtake him. He had no idea what to do now. The seat was high up, and he couldn’t see how he was to get there without causing a great disturbance in the surrounding crowd.
He was saved from embarrassment by the chief, who clapped his hands and sent a stair-like carpet down to him. Shakily, Harry clambered up them with as much grace as he could, given the circumstances and the hundreds of eyes on him. He managed to reach the top without tripping or making a fool of himself, and sat down to watch the ball game.
***
Harry had to admit that the ball game was very exciting. The object of the game was to get the ball into one of two stone hoops attached to the walls of the stadium, thus winning the game. The thing was, players were not allowed to actually touch the ball. They had to continually keep the ball in the air using their magic or body (other than their hands) as a sort of paddle and if a player let the ball drop, the other side got a point. The chief, through Stephen’s translation, told him that play would continue until one person earned 100 points, or until someone scored a goal.
It was a very physical and dangerous game. The players had a difficult time keeping the ball in the air due to the number of hexes and curses being hurled at each other. Harry was very impressed because neither seemed to be using a wand - the magic was totally wandless. Harry supposed that was why the spells being thrown were not especially complicated or powerful. They were bothersome, however, but both players seemed able to reverse the effects rather quickly.
He found himself rooting for one of the players in particular, who continually made save after save, sometimes against all odds. He was a fierce competitor and the majority of the crowd seemed taken with him. The number of “oos” and “awws” increased as the game got more heated.
Only the chief remained impassive, and Harry found himself becoming slightly irritated when he did not react in the slightest after one particularly spectacular save. He began to wonder if the man even wanted to be here. It almost seemed as if he were bored with the spectacular performances.
Finally, the game was over. The clearly superior ballplayer put the ball through the hoop after dodging a particularly nasty hex using a series of gymnastic moves and defensive techniques, which had the crowd on their feet in unbridled excitement.
Both players were breathing hard but grinning wildly, as they walked up and slapped each other on the backs jovially in good-natured sportsmanship. They then made their way to the part of the arena just below where Harry, Hunter, and Tecuhtl sat, bowing low with their eyes downcast and waiting for acknowledgement.
Harry held his breath as Tecuhtl stood gravely and addressed the athletes. Hunter translated for him in a quiet voice.
“My sons… the great god, Quetzalcoatl, is surely pleased with your performances tonight.” He paused before addressing the younger player who had lost, aware that Hunter was translating and allowing him to catch up.
“Chac, you played with heart and that shows your true character. Though you did not win, your attitude towards your brother who bettered you is most gracious. This is the mark of a true nobleman.”
Turning to the winner, Tecuhtl allowed himself a tight smile. “Tlaloc, your talent on the ball field is beyond reproach. You have pleased the Gods tonight and they have shown favour on you. Your brother’s fate now lies in your hands.”
Harry was confused about the last bit. What did the chief mean, Chac's fate was in Tlaloc's hands? He was about to ask Hunter when his question was answered. Tlaloc spoke, again with Hunter acting as translator. “May Chac live a long and prosperous life,” the native said with a bow. Did that mean the winner decided the loser's fate? He made a mental note to ask Hunter later.
Tecuhtl smiled a toothy smile. He said something grandly, which was promptly interpreted by Hunter.
“So be it, my son. You are blessed among warriors for your mercy. Choose your reward, Honoured One.”
Tlaloc spoke again. “I ask only one thing, my great chief…" he said, pausing for Hunter. It seemed he wanted Harry to understand this and was waiting for Hunter's translation.
"I ask for the hand of your daughter, Masaya, to be my wife so that I might truly be your son,” Tlaloc said boldly. The crowd gasped upon hearing the request.
Hunter's voice was tight as he translated. Harry saw the chief stiffened and his eyes widened. He looked very angry. “You know very well, Tlaloc that Masaya is promised to another” he said in what sounded like a stern voice. Hunter voice was also clipped as he interpreted the words for Harry.
Hunter was growing distracted as his attention was focused on the matter at hand. Harry noticed that he seemed to be restraining himself from intervening in the conversation. Whatever was happening was obviously not usual. He had to tug on Hunter's sleeve to remind him to translate.
A few more exchanges - some of which Harry only half heard - flew between the pair. At one point Harry saw Tlaloc turn his eyes on him coldly and he shivered. Why was the warrior looking at him like that? He wondered if he had done something to offend the athlete. It was Tecuhtl, after all, that Tlaloc should be looking at. He was the one denying the warrior's request. Harry returned the stare coolly, waiting to see what would happen next.
An angry flow of words erupted from Tlaloc.
"What's he saying?" Harry asked Hunter, who had forgotten to translate again.
“He's saying that Masaya's intended has not proven himself worthy,” Hunter said distractedly. He listened to the exchange intently while the crowd waited with bated breath. Harry found himself growing more frustrated.
“Masaya-” Hunter said, but he abruptly cut off what he was about to say, and attempted to speak to the chief. He hadn't said two words when Tecuhtl began speaking very fast and very angrily.
"The chief is reprimanding Tlaloc for his audacity. He's telling him that the Gods’ patience grows very thin with such insolence,” Hunter whispered to Harry behind Tecuhtl's back.
Tlaloc bowed and spoke in a calmer voice. “He's asking Tecuhtl for forgiveness. He says that his great love for Masaya and her family makes him say crazy things. He only wants what’s best for those he loves,” Hunter translated.
Tlaloc continued to look down at the ground in submission but Harry could see the warrior's cold, brown eyes harden with resolve. It made him doubt the man's sincerity. The young man didn’t seem the sort to submit without a fight.
The chief seemed satisfied with Tlaloc's subservience, however. Hunter breathed a sigh of relief as he translated Tecuhtl's next words. “He's telling Tlaloc that he is forgiven, but to please not try the patience of the Gods further. He's asking him again what he would like as a reward for such an excellent performance.”
Tlaloc looked up and met Harry’s interested but cool gaze. Hunter's words barely registered as he translated.
“I request a challenge between-” Hunter suddenly cut off the translation and began speaking angrily in the language of the natives. Harry had an uneasy feeling that whatever they were discussing had something do with him.
“What’s he saying?” Harry hissed to Hunter insistently.
Hunter ignored him and continued to converse with the chief and Tlaloc heatedly.
“What’s going on?” Harry asked again.
Whatever was being said was getting the crowd very agitated. Harry felt angry being the only one not privy to the conversation taking place around him. The snake inside him began to rise in response. He thought his head might split open any second as the pain returned worse than ever.
“What’s happening!” he yelled through gritted teeth. He was trying to fight the effects of the snake but the hissing was getting louder. He was trying not to listen, but was finding it more and more difficult to ignore the voice in his head.
“They are plotting to hurrrt you…,” it hissed threateningly. “You neeed mee to take controllll… I can ssstop them, Harrryyy. I can sssave you…. Do it now, beefore it'sss too laatte, Harrryyy!” it said sharply.
“Noooo!” Harry yelled, clutching his head and doubling over in pain. “Go away!" he screamed. "I don’t need you!”
The crowd was in an uproar now. “Harry!” Stephen yelled over the noise. “What’s wrong?”
Harry thought he heard genuine concern in his voice. “Make… him… stop!” Harry panted in anguish. “Please… make him… go away!”
Hunter turned to Tecuhtl and said something indistinguishable. The chief clapped his hands and immediately two extremely large guards appeared on either side of Tlaloc and seized him.
Tlaloc tried to struggled, but the guards had his wrists in a death-grip and he was unable to move. A third guard appeared and slipped a thin, golden rope around Tlaloc’s midriff, binding his arms to his sides so that he was powerless. They dragged him away, kicking and screaming things that sounded like threats or angry warnings. The crowd grew silent, waiting to see what Tecuhtl would do.
Hunter was livid. He couldn’t believe what Tlaloc had tried to do. He was about to address the matter with Tecuhtl but Tlaloc's opponent had concerns of his own.
All through the proceedings, Chac had stood wide-eyed, watching the exchange with something akin to shock. Now he spoke quietly for the first time.
“Father, what will you do to him?” Hunter heard him ask fearfully. He knew that Chac and Tlaloc were very close - almost like brothers. It made this disgrace all the more bitter.
“Tlaloc will be punished for his insolence. But it is for the Gods to decide his punishment,” Tecuhtl said bitterly. Using a slightly kinder tone he added, “Chac, go to your sister and see that she does not intervene on Tlaloc’s behalf. He must face his punishment like a man and a warrior.”
“Yes, father,” Chac said obediently, bowing before he Disapparated.
Tecuhtl turned to address Stephen, who had moved to Harry's side and was trying to sooth the suffering boy.
"Will he be alright?" he asked with concern.
Hunter nodded after a quick examination. "I believe this might be a side effect of the potions he was given. Tlaloc's behaviour was only the catalyst. But the boy has greater problems than Tlaloc, Your Highness," he reminded him.
Tecuhtl looked sullen. "Yes," he agreed. "I will deal with Tlaloc myself," he said firmly. With a wave of his hand, he too disappeared.
This whole exchange sufficiently distracted Harry, who was feeling rather ill. He fought to keep his wits about him and not lose consciousness. The snake was beginning to recoil and Harry found the pain easing.
He and Stephen left by way of the back soon after, in order to avoid the crowds that were milling about and chattering excitedly. All through the walk home Harry pondered everything he had seen. Stephen seemed just as distracted and did not volunteer any explanations, which was just as well since Harry was too knackered to ask for any. He had a feeling there would be plenty of time for that later when his head wasn’t hurting. He needed time to process all this new information before he confronted Stephen.
Tomorrow, he thought wearily, he would get some answers.
Chapter 4: Answers
Answers
Ginny hated Grimmauld Place with a passion. She hated everything about the house, from its dank interior to its screeching portrait. But most of all, she hated the secrets.
She was back in the Headquarters of the Order of the Phoenix, the center of intelligence in Britain for the Wizarding World, and she knew less than the average Muggle about Voldemort and his plans. And if her mother had anything to say about it, she wouldn’t even know half of what she did know.
Immediately upon entering the old house almost two weeks ago, Ginny had been ushered upstairs and told to stay put. The adults were currently discussing a very important matter and she was told not to disturb them. It would be better if she used the time to get some rest, she was told.
Even two weeks later it still infuriated her. Imagine! Told to take a nap like a toddler when her world had just been turned upside down! Even now, her mum had taken one look at her
and ordered her to take a relaxing bath and go to bed early. She had been looking peaky and acting ill since the party and Molly was convinced she was coming down with something. She even threatened to have Madame Pomfrey do an examination when she came by next.
But Ginny knew she was not ill. Her heart ached for Harry.
Even now, so far away, she could feel his emotions. Sadness, anger, and guilt mixed with love, kindness, and caring- that was her Harry. Closing her eyes, she tried to separate her emotions from his, but was finding it difficult. All of Harry’s feelings were weighing her down and she had not been herself since the bonding.
She had no idea how he coped, really; his strength was amazing. If she didn’t have the happy memories of her childhood and the support of a loving — if overprotective — family, she’d have gone mad just from the feelings flooding her consciousness. He was under so much pressure, and she could do nothing to help him.
She knew one thing for certain, though. Something was happening with Harry and she was worried sick. For a few days after she had returned to Grimmauld Place with her father she had
felt Harry’s emotions so strongly she was sure he was right next to her. It had been so overwhelming at first she had snapped at everyone and finally kept to herself, telling people who asked that she was tired not feeling well.
She had felt his struggle in the park and knew something was wrong even before any of the Order
members. She remembered running into the kitchen and frantically searching for someone to help. Bill had been there and he seemed to take her warning seriously. Apparently someone had informed him of the bond. He had rushed off and Ginny had waited impatiently for hours until someone had finally returned and informed her that Harry was safe. He was sedated for now and would stay that way for his own protection until something could be worked out.
The week and a half Harry had been lost to her was torture. She had stayed in her room and slept a great deal. Everyone thought she was sulking because no one would tell her anything. But for some reason, she had been very sleepy the whole time. There was an empty hole in her soul where Harry should have been.
While she slept she could still feel him, but awake it was like a piece of her was missing. At least he was sleeping peacefully, but still… something was wrong. She could sense it and it worried her sick. Harry was still in danger. Whatever had happened had caused physical damage, and he was growing weaker. She tried to tell her Mum, but she misunderstood and didn’t take Ginny’s warnings seriously, telling her that Harry would be just fine.
For a week she barely ate, barely talked. She stayed in bed and alternated between sleeping and worrying. One or two times she thought she really was ill, and maybe she needed to go to St. Mungo’s, but then it would pass before she could tell anyone and the horrible emptiness would fill her. Everyone was so busy; no one paid her much mind.
Night before last, she finally knew everything was all right. She felt well enough to finally demand some answers from her parents, but her mother had shooed her away, insisting that she get some more rest. So she had taken out some extendable ears and tried to eavesdrop, only to be caught by a very angry Molly Weasley. She had given Ginny kitchen duty, telling her that if she was well enough to eavesdrop, then she was well enough to be punished.
But Ginny had heard enough. She knew they had taken him away for his own safety, to get the help he needed. She had gone to bed, wishing with all her might that she could see him — talk to him. Then she and Harry had shared the dream.
She didn’t like the sound of this man Harry called Hunter. He sounded shifty, in her opinion. Even sharing the dream with Harry had not totally put her mind at ease. It had helped, certainly, but Harry was still lost to her — so far away. No one would tell her anything. If it wasn’t for their connection she would know nothing.
She slid into the tub, grateful for the warmth and relaxation it gave her. Maybe her mother’s suggestion hadn’t been such a bad one after all. She honestly was still very tired from her ordeal.
Her eyes slid shut as she soaked, but her mind was full of Harry.
The fact that Harry was on her mind was nothing new. She had always had a bit of an obsession for him. Ever since the first time her mother had told her the story, her heart went out to the Boy-Who-Lived. To be orphaned in such an awful way… it was horrible!
She remembered thinking how lucky she was to have a Mum and Dad and family who loved her, and how alone the little boy who was not much older than her - younger even than Ron - must be feeling at that very moment.
Her Mum had said that Harry had been sent away to live with family — his only living relatives. Ginny remembered telling her mum that she hoped his relatives took care of him and loved him. Her mum had smiled had assured her that Harry was so special they were bound to love him as their own. Even as a little girl of seven, that memory still haunted her.
She laughed bitterly at the thought. The evidence she had seen at Privet Drive had soured her against the Dursleys forever. Ginny shivered at the memory of the signs of abuse and neglect that lingered there even to this day - from the cupboard under the stairs to the locks on his bedroom door. It was obvious Harry was an unwanted guest in that home. Dudley Dursley had all but said they hated him. She wanted so badly to wrap her arms around him and take away all the pain. She knew she could make it better. Something in her heart told her she could. But Harry was currently fighting yet another battle and she couldn’t help him with this one.
She focused her mind on him and hoped that he could feel her love. She had wanted this for as long as she could remember, and now that she had it, she could scarcely believe it. Harry Potter was her soul mate. They had bonded and now they shared the same Life Core. Whatever happened to him from now on, also happened to her. They were one.
What Fate had determined that the boy she had heard stories about - had longed for most of her life - would be the one who captured not only her heart, but her soul as well? It was like a piece of her that was missing was slowly coming into place.
Ginny frowned. The reality of what had happened suddenly hit her full force. She had Life Bonded with the boy who was wanted dead by every Death Eater in Britain, not to mention Lord Voldemort himself. Harry was a walking time bomb. He shared a connection with the darkest wizard alive, and now Ginny shared that connection too.
And she had thought she was rid of Tom forever. Ha! Life was cruel. She had just gotten the very thing she had dreamed of most of her young life, but she was now at the centre of one of the most dangerous games in history. What luck she had.
Images of Harry - smiling at her encouragingly, looking shy and uncertain, staring at her with desire — floated through her mind and her tension eased. She felt her body relax in the warm lavender scented bathwater.
If anyone was worth it, he was. She’d go to the ends of the earth for him and not complain once. If this was her fate, then she’d accept it willingly. Harry was hers, and she was his. Forever.
A knock on the door startled her out of her dreamland. Hermione’s muffled voice reached through the closed door.
“Ginny? Are you still in there? I’ve brought you some dinner and some hot tea. Your mum wants you to eat.”
Pulling herself out of the tub and drying off, she answered. “I’ll be out in just a minute, Hermione.”
She donned her pajamas and a dressing gown and opened the door. Hermione had set up a table with the tray and two chairs. She was currently occupying one of the chairs now; it looked as if she were planning on staying to make sure she ate. Ginny wondered if her mum had put the older girl up to it.
She shuffled over to her chair and sat down obediently. She wasn’t very hungry.
“How are your parents?” she asked Hermione guiltily. She hadn’t seen much of Ron or Hermione since the night at Privet Drive. She had her own troubles to deal with, and was almost grateful she had the time to herself sort it all out. But now she realized she had been a terrible
friend. Hermione’s parents almost died and the family had lost their home. She had been so wrapped up in Harry and her problems that she had not sought out Hermione in the two weeks she had been there.
A dark look passed over her friend’s face. “Well enough, I suppose. They’re finally coming
around. They were understandably quite… shocked. It took a lot of explaining, but in the end I think they understand. Believe it or not, Dad was the hardest to convince I’d be better off at Hogwarts. Losing the house really shook him up.”
“He’s afraid of losing you, too,” Ginny said.
“And I’m afraid of losing them. I don’t know what I would have done if the attack had been successful.” She became misty-eyed and her voice seemed to catch. “I’d never forgive myself.”
“Yet we want Harry to get over his guilt about Sirius,” Ginny mused allowed. The thought had just entered her mind and slipped out. She didn’t know why she had said it.
Hermione looked horror struck. “I never thought about it that way,” she said. “I know Sirius and Harry were close, but I never considered….”
“None of us really considered how we would be feeling if we were in his shoes,” Ginny agreed. “I’m just as guilty of that as you.” She paused. “Maybe we just wanted him to move on to make it easier on us. To ease our guilt.”
Hermione shook her head. “You know it’s not like that, Ginny. I, for one, can’t stand seeing
him in so much pain. It breaks my heart. We all loved Sirius and played a part in what happened to him. But we’re no more responsible for his death than Harry. It was Sirius that chose to go; Sirius that fought Bellatrix and lost. Harry needs to understand that.”
“Harry will be all right,” Ginny said confidently.
“I wish I had your confidence,” Hermione sniffed. “I’m not so sure.” Harry had confided in her the night of the party about the contents of the prophecy. But she had promised not to say anything.
“Harry is strong, Hermione. He’s much stronger than any of us give him credit for. Even now, he’s more worried about us than himself.” Ginny leaned back in her chair and closed her eyes, focusing on Harry’s emotions. “He’s angry and upset, yes, but he’s not given up yet. He’s fighting for us.”
Hermione looked at her friend curiously. “Ginny,” she said warily. “What’s going on? How do you know what Harry is feeling?”
Ginny opened her eyes and stared back at her best friend. Hermione was like the sister she had always wanted. Right now she was staring at her wide-eyed, a look of suspicion on her intelligent face, like she thought Ginny was mad.
“He told me,” Ginny lied.
“That doesn’t sound like Harry,” Hermione said suspiciously. Her eyes narrowed. “He rarely talks about his feelings. And besides… you haven’t talked to him in almost two weeks.”
Ginny looked at the girl coldly. For some reason, her friend’s lack of confidence that she knew what Harry was feeling irritated her. “Are you jealous?” she asked. She was tired of others presuming to know more about Harry than her. For a change, she was the only one who knew how he truly felt.
Hermione looked startled but angry. “Of course not,” she snapped. “What would make you say such a thing?”
Ginny sighed. She knew she wasn’t being fair, but Harry’s emotions were influencing her and it was difficult to regulate her own jealousy of the trio’s closeness when she was so vulnerable. For many years now they had been his only confidants. She had always hated being left out.
“I’m sorry,” she said sincerely. “I must really be tired. Maybe I’ll just save this sandwich for later
and go to bed. I’m knackered.”
“Of course you are,” Hermione said almost motherly. “That’s why I brought you hot tea instead of pumpkin juice. I knew you’d need something to help you relax so that you could sleep peacefully. We’re all worried about you… and Harry, of course.”
Gratefully, Ginny took the cup that Hermione poured for her. “Thank you,” she told her friend, meaning more than the tea Hermione handed her. Hermione smiled back warmly.
As she sipped, her mind turned to other topics. She smiled coyly into her cup. “You and my brother are right cozy these days,” she commented, a little too innocently.
She was rewarded with a blush. “Ron has finally come to his senses,” Hermione admitted.
Ginny smiled. “I’m very happy for you, Hermione. I know you’ve wanted this for a long time.”
Hermione looked blissful for a moment as she poured herself a cup. “He’s really wonderful, you know,” she said.
“Yes, I know,” Ginny agreed reluctantly. “But if you ever tell him I said that, I’ll teach you a few hexes I’ve been working on.”
The girls laughed and drank tea until their cups were drained. Then they climbed into their beds and talked some more until sleep claimed them.
But Ginny’s dreams were still troubled, full of unwanted images of Harry and Claire Smith chatting it up on a park bench in Surrey.
***
“Are you all right, Harry?” Claire asked in a worried voice. Her glimmering blue eyes regarded him with concern.
The snake looked back at her from behind Harry’s eyes, triumphant, and assessed the situation. What to do first? Kill the Muggle, or… were there other options?
She was a pretty little thing. Potter was a fool to turn down the attentions of such a beautiful young creature, even if she was a Muggle. Maybe he’d play along for a while. Perhaps this Muggle would be of some use.
“Yes,” he heard Potter’s voice say. “I’m fine. Just a headache.” He rubbed his forehead for good measure and made a wincing face, squinting his eyes to protect them from the bright sunlight. As he did so, his hand hit the round glasses on his face. He had forgotten about those. How did the boy manage? If it had been him, he’d have found a way to rid himself of the damned things long ago.
The snake straightened and smiled. “What were we talking about, luv?” he asked, stretching out his arms and bringing one to rest behind her.
Claire looked surprised at Harry’s use of such a familiar term and his sudden change in demeanor, but smiled back anyway. She was mesmerized by those brilliant green eyes and his sexy smile. He seemed different somehow... stronger. More powerful and confident. Not as shy or troubled; almost open and… charming.
“I was telling you about my parents divorcing,” she reminded him. “Have you forgotten so soon?” she asked coyly.
“Oh yes, now I recall,” he said, smiling again. “Such a tragedy for someone so beautiful to have to endure,” he said, touching her face and pulling at a stray lock of her hair. “Is there anything I can do to help you forget some of your troubles?” he asked in what he hoped was an innocent voice.
Claire looked at him in wonder. Where was the boy who had been rude to her and snubbed her? She definitely preferred this Harry to that one. “Remember I said that Mum’s moved out, and Dad’s splitting his time between the pub and the office?” she asked, looking deeply into his eyes. She felt hypnotized by them. “No one’s home now. Maybe you’d like to… get something to eat? I can’t cook much, but I’m decent enough on certain things.”
The snake weighed his options. He knew those fools from the Order were always nearby. If they suspected anything was wrong, they’d move in immediately. But the boy was a randy teenager. What normal fifteen year old didn’t enjoy spending time with a pretty girl?
He smiled again, returning her stare with one of his own. “I bet you are,” he said coyly.
“I’d adore having lunch with you,” he said. Inside his mind he could feel Harry fighting to get back in control. He’d have to be careful. The boy was strong. Whatever damage he did, he’d have to do it soon, before Harry found a way to take control again. He’d just have to make this good.
***
Harry awoke feeling somewhat groggy, but physically much better. He had remembered some more last night, but he had not gotten much information from his dream. It all revolved around
the park bench and Claire Smith.
The groggy feeling intensified as he became more alert. He supposed it must be the after-effects of whatever spell or potion he had been under. Hunter had said something to that effect the night before, he seemed to recall. He decided his first priority of the day was to get answers.
He stumbled blindly around, pulling on clothes and washing his face in the basin of water. After that he felt much better. Walking cautiously out of his room and into the courtyard, he found Hunter having breakfast in the garden. He was sitting under a gazebo-like structure, eating and reading a rather thick book at the same time. Even doing two things at once did not distract him from sensing Harry's presence, however.
"Up early, I see," he said casually without turning around or taking his eyes off his book. "I suppose you're hungry. Care for some breakfast?" he said, waving a hand absently towards the food on the table. His tone suggested that he couldn’t care less either way.
"Er... yes," Harry said, hesitating. What if the food were poisoned?
As if reading his mind, Hunter said without looking up, "Don't worry. It hasn’t been tampered with."
He still didn't know whether or not he could trust this man, but his hunger won out. If felt like days since he had last eaten. "What I really want is answers," he said as he slid into the chair opposite the older man and began filling his plate greedily.
"Hmmm… Such as?" Hunter asked in a bored voice, still not taking his eyes off his book. He didn't sound in the mood to answer questions.
Harry felt his anger stir. Hunter seemed so reserved and distant- cold even. But he couldn't shake the feeling that, beneath the rough interior, was a decent person. Despite the man’s less than friendly reception, Harry did not fear him. Certainly he was abrasive, but to Harry he
just seemed like someone who had been alone a long time and wasn’t used to conversation.
Right now, however, Harry didn't really care if he felt like talking or not. He was getting some answers. Today.
"What am I doing here?" he asked pointedly. "And just how did I get here, anyway?"
“Dumbledore contacted me a few weeks ago. He thought I could help you,” Hunter replied. He did not look up but kept reading and eating. He sounded as if he thought the conversation was over.
“How did I get here?” Harry insisted.
Sighing loudly, Hunter finally looked up from his book. Deliberately taking his time, he marked his place and closed it up, making a great show of putting it aside. With the cover closed, Harry was surprised to see the title. Everything You Ever Wanted to Know (And Some Things You Didn't) About Magical Defenses Against Internal penetration of the Mind, by Ludwig Von Stueben.
“After I agreed to take you, some people- one of whom was Remus Lupin- met me in a small village in South America. They apparently had to sedate you at some point and you had been that way for a good week and a half. When I tried to bring you out of it, your body started to crash. Obviously things are more severe than I thought at home. It took them a good week to get you safely out of the country.”
“Why didn’t anyone from the Order come here with me?” Harry asked between bites, satisfied the man was finally talking.
Hunter shrugged. “I work alone,” he said. “Besides, others will only distract you from learning what you need to know.”
Something clicked in Harry’s mind and he stopped chewing. "You're going to teach me Occlumency, aren't you?" he said, looking down at his plate and swallowing with great difficulty. He almost choked on his food. When Stephen didn’t answer right away, he absently pushed the food around on his plate. Suddenly he didn't feel much like eating anymore.
"Yes. That is the general idea," Hunter said after a long pause. He continued eating and watching Harry thoughtfully, but refrained from further comment.
Harry's stubborn streak kicked in. He regarded his companion intently, sitting back in his chair with his arms crossed over his chest. He stared at Hunter expectantly, challenging him to make the next move.
About five minutes passed before Hunter finally broke. "All right, Mr. Potter," he conceded with a sigh. "What else do you want to know?"
"Why am I having trouble remembering things?" Harry asked suspiciously.
"How much do you remember from just before you woke up?" Hunter asked.
"The last clear memory I have is of sitting on a park bench with a girl that I know." He frowned, uncertain of how much to reveal. "I remember bits and pieces afterwards, but it's fuzzy and I don't really know what to make of it. Some of the things I remember seem more like snatches of a dream rather than true memories. They don't make much sense."
"You were pretty messed up when I got to you," Stephen explained, not seeming at all surprised at Harry's dodgy recollections of the past. "The fools never even thought to check you for mind invasion potions and spells."
"Mind invasion potions?" Harry asked incredulously. "What potions? What spells?"
"Voldemort used a combination of potions and spells to gain access to your mind and try to influence you. It's an old trick that is rarely used anymore," Stephen said. "The Imperius is much more effective and requires less effort to achieve the same results. If that doesn't work, then there's always outright possession, but only a very powerful witch or wizard can accomplish that."
He looked thoughtful. "It puzzles me why he didn't try one of those methods. I mean, why bother with the old ways when there are quicker and more effective methods available? The Voldemort I fought against used to take the easiest route possible whenever he could."
Harry snorted. "Probably because those methods don't work on very well on me," he said between mouthfuls. His appetite had returned somewhat.
Hunter tried, but couldn't hide his surprise. "What do you mean?" he asked. He was intrigued in spite of his resolve to remain detached.
Harry took the time to chew his food at a leisurely pace and then drink a long swallow of juice before answering. He could see the older man's interest and was greatly enjoying the fact that he had the upper hand. After all, Hunter had made him wait for answers.
He looked at Stephen seriously, hoping to convey the message that he wasn't a child. He had faced Voldemort four times- five if one counted the memory of Tom Riddle and his Basilisk in the Chamber- and survived. That should be worth some measure of respect.
"Voldemort hasn't had much success with either of those methods," Harry said finally in a matter-of-fact voice.
"How so?" Stephen asked, curiously.
"He's tried both the Imperius and possession, with very unsatisfactory results. I can fight the Imperius - as he found out for himself last year - and something about being inside me doesn't give him a warm, fuzzy feeling. He couldn't stay in my body for long last month when we met at the Ministry, although he tried."
"And just for the record, it was no picnic for me, either," he added for good measure. "The pain was worse that anything I've ever felt, including the Cruciatus."
Hunter was taken aback. He was absolutely floored that this skinny teenager was talking about the Dark Lord so casually, calling him by name. He was even more astounded that Harry even knew what any of the Unforgivables were like. Including the Killing Curse, it sounded like the boy had been exposed to all three unforgivables and survived with his mind intact. No one in the history of the world had ever done that.
Harry fixed his bright green eyes on Stephen. "Now it's my turn. Why did Dumbledore choose you? Are you some sort of an expert or something?"
"Let's just say that I have life experiences that have given me special insight into the art of Occlumency," Stephen said abruptly.
Harry was not satisfied with that answer but didn't press. He could understand and respect Hunter's avoidance of direct questions about his past. He let it drop for now.
"So… if I've been under the influence of a potion," Harry mused, thinking out loud, "how long do you think it's been in my system?"
"My best guess would be a couple of weeks," Hunter told him, confirming what Harry already knew. Wormtail's visit to Privet Drive did have a purpose. He'd slipped him a potion in one of his drinks - a potion that had allowed Voldemort better access to his mind.
"Of course, he'd also need a steady supply of something of yours in order for the spell to work." Hunter continued to eat his breakfast as he pondered the situation.
"Like what?" Harry asked, buttering some toast.
"Hmmm... Well, strands of hair are usually the easiest to obtain," he said. "But from the looks of you, I'd say it's been more than a few weeks since your last haircut."
Harry felt sick to his stomach. "My hairbrush has been missing for a few weeks. I just passed it off as something I misplaced. Do you think it could be related?" he asked.
"I'd say it's a good possibility," Hunter said.
"How does the potion work?" Harry asked.
Hunter's patient reply surprised Harry. He had been expecting another abrupt answer, but Hunter took his time explaining how it worked. "It's a three step process, really," he said as if gearing up for a lecture. Harry was strongly reminded of Hermione, and suddenly missed his know-it-all best friend.
"The first step is getting the victim to drink the potion to open the mind," Hunter said. "The second step consists of another potion that's drunk by the one doing the controlling. Then the third step is usually an incantation that allows the controller access to the mind."
"This potion is delicate business and not to be taken lightly," he said with something akin to reverence. "Only a very skilled potion master should even attempt it. If the potion is not strong enough, the person can't be fully controlled. If it's too strong, then the controller might never be able to return to his or her own body. Also, the strength of the potion is directly related to the victim's strength of mind. Negative emotions can make it easier to gain access."
"So, if a person is feeling angry or... or some other negative emotion," Harry asked, a lump in his throat, "then that would make the potion more effective?"
"Yes," Hunter agreed, watching him with those irritatingly observant eyes. "This is a Dark potion, Harry, and the Dark Arts thrive on dark thoughts and feelings. Emotions like guilt and self-loathing are its best friends. These emotions, more than any others, give the Dark Lord his power."
Harry sat in silence. What Hunter said made sense. He had been feeling more of these dark emotions since Sirius.... died. The times when Voldemort had been the strongest and had taken control were when he found himself dwelling on the past or feeling especially guilty, upset, depressed, or angry. The trouble was that he didn't know how to stop feeling this way.
"So, if I stop feeling negative emotions, then he can't get access to my mind anymore?" Harry asked hopefully.
"Ah, I didn't say that, Harry," Hunter said, shaking his head. "While it's true that the potion has been counteracted, your connection to Voldemort seems to be stronger than that. Dumbledore's letter said something about your scar. That is why you're here, after all. He mentioned certain incidents beginning when you were eleven. I saw evidence of your connection last night at the ballgame." He chuckled. "Poor Tlaloc was blamed for that, even though he deserved what he got. Tecuhtl is fond of the boy, but such public insolence can not go unpunished."
"What will happen to him?" Harry asked.
"I don't know," Hunter answered truthfully. "But I'm more concerned about Voldemort right now than Tlaloc."
He leaned back in his chair and seemed to ponder the situation. When he finally spoke, Harry could tell he was choosing his words very carefully, trying to solve the puzzle. "The potions should have been out of your system by last night," he said, frowning. "Certainly it was weak enough that Voldemort shouldn't have been able to connect with you at all. There seems to be another force in existence here."
"Dumbledore told me that we connected when he gave me my scar," Harry said quietly. "Now that he's back and stronger than ever, my scar seems to hurt all the time. The stronger he gets, the stronger the connection seems to be, and the worse the pain."
"Yes, curse scars have been known to have funny effects," Hunter agreed. "Yours is a unique situation because you've survived the killing curse. That has never been done before or since."
"So I've been told," Harry said bitterly.
"Would you rather be dead, then?" Hunter's anger flared. His eyes flashed with rage as he thought of his wife and son, two victims of Voldemort's killing curses.
Harry couldn't understand why his comment had affected the older man so deeply. "No, of course not," he snapped. "But you try being famous for something you don't even remember and see how you like it! It's not much fun having people ogle my scar all the time and have everyone think I'm touched in the head because I can feel Voldemort's emotions and dream through his eyes! I'm a marked man, Mr. Hunter, and I haven't even turned sixteen yet! How would you feel?"
Harry's outburst deflated Hunter's anger. He knew he wasn't being fair and he silently berated himself for it. He had momentarily lost his objectivity. Knowing James and Lily, he knew Harry had possibly lost as much- maybe more- than even he had. Looking into Harry's tortured green eyes full of sadness and pain, he felt ashamed for his judgmental attitude. He may have lost a wife and child, but Harry had lost much more. He had lost his parents, his childhood, and his innocence. At that moment he felt very sorry for the boy.
Harry broke off the eye contact and looked away, trying not to give Hunter more ammunition to judge him. His feelings were private. It was no one's business.
"I don't suppose I'd like it much," Hunter conceded. "In fact, I'd downright hate it."
Harry looked up in surprise. He had not expected the other man to agree with him so easily. He could sense the regret coming from his companion, and it gave him hope that perhaps they could learn to get along. He didn't need another enemy.
"There's something else I should tell you," Harry said, fighting hard against the lump in his throat. He felt the snake begin to stir inside him, and he knew it was fighting against him- trying to keep him from telling.
Remembering what Stephen had said about negative emotions, he took a moment to collect his thoughts and calm his mind before he continued. He filled his mind with images of Ginny and the snake recoiled.
How was he to tell a virtual stranger that he heard a snake-like voice in his head and believed he had a something evil living inside his body?
"Harry?" Hunter asked, uncertain if the boy was going to continue. He could tell the boy was fighting an internal struggle. When he didn't get a response, he added, "Whatever you tell me, Harry, will stay between us. You have my word."
Harry screwed up his courage and took a deep breath. He stumbled over his words at first. "Sometimes... lately- I mean... in the last year since he came back. I feel like there's this snake-thing living inside me. Lately, I-I hear his... his voice hissing inside my head, talking to
me." He did not look up, but continued to talk. Now that he had said it out loud, the worst was over.
"The voice... it happened for the first time around the beginning of July and again yesterday," he continued, "...right before I passed out. I also heard him last night at the ballgame." He couldn't look Hunter in the eye. The ex-Auror must surely think him nutters. "Do you think it's a result of the potion?"
The serious glint in Hunter's eye intensified. "Dumbledore didn't mention this," he said stiffly.
"I-I never got the chance to tell him," Harry revealed truthfully. Of course, his conscious told him he hadn't tried very hard either.
"Well, Harry," Stephen said with a sigh. "This does complicate things, doesn't it?" Seeing Harry's obvious discomfort, he took pity on the boy. "Perhaps we'd better begin your training
immediately, then, as soon as you feel up to it," he said. "The sooner you get him out of your head for good, the better, eh?"
Harry breathed a sigh of relief. He didn't know what he had expected. Perhaps he thought Hunter might laugh at him or refuse to teach him, thinking him far too mad to train, but he suddenly realized that none of those things happened. In fact, Hunter wanted to start training him immediately. That sounded wonderful to Harry. If Hunter or Snape or anyone else could help him, he'd gladly undergo any amount of pain or hardship to achieve some measure of peace.
*
A few hours later Harry and Hunter were back in the courtyard. Harry felt much better. Hunter had arranged for a bath to be drawn and Harry had soaked for a long time in the tub trying to gather his courage to begin Occlumency training once again. His experience with Snape the previous year had been less than pleasant, and it was not something he wanted to put himself through with someone he didn't even know.
Snape was bad enough, but at least Harry was confident that Snape had wanted the experience over as quickly as he, himself, did. Stephen Hunter was an unknown quantity. Harry had no idea what to expect, and the thought scared him. He had learned the hard way never to let his guard
down. Enemies were everywhere just waiting to deceive him. He’d promised himself weeks ago, as he sat by the lake mourning his godfather, that he would never let his guard down again, no
matter what. If he was to survive, he couldn't afford to. He vowed that no one he cared about would ever be hurt because he hadn't thought his actions through. It was a serious game, but he'd play along with Hunter for now. He'd be damned if he would ever trust the man, though. He
wasn't sure he could trust anyone anymore.
After his bath, Harry was pleased to find a clean set of clothes waiting for him, along with his Hogwarts trunk. Pouncing on his trunk, he quickly realized that he had nothing appropriate to wear in this tropical climate and contented himself with the island clothes that had been provided to him.
Still, it was nice to have his own belongings here with him. It made him feel closer to his friends and served as a reminder that he still had something worth fighting for. The Weasleys, Ron, Hermione, and Ginny were all expecting him to give this his best effort, and he intended to do just
that.
Hunter first instructed Harry on breathing techniques. He told him the most important element in Occlumency was focusing the mind. In order to build a strong shield, one had to relax and look inward. For an hour they practiced deep breathing and meditation until Harry felt calmer. Then Hunter ran through a basic Occlumency exercise with him.
The technique was for Harry to lie on his back and focus on Stephen's voice as he talked him through what Occlumens referred to as the meditative state. A little at a time Harry was instructed to relax his body, starting with his toes and working his way up to his mind. By the time Harry got around to emptying his thoughts, he was so relaxed that it was easy to focus on nothing but the sounds of the distant shore, the chattering of the birds, and the smell of the grass. He could feel the warm sunshine on his face and the gentle breeze tickling his nose.
Harry didn't even realize he had fallen asleep. He awoke from his deep slumber to find Stephen gone. He was alone in the courtyard, lying on his back in the grass and feeling more relaxed and at peace than he could ever remember feeling. He had slept soundly for the first time in weeks - on the ground, out in the open and lying flat on his back - without any interference from Voldemort or bad dreams. In fact, he couldn't even remember dreaming.
Immediately, Harry was furious that Snape had not taught him this. All he had been instructed to do was to "practice emptying his mind." But Harry's mind was so full he had no clue how to empty it.
Having experienced some success, Harry felt more confident now that he could eventually master Occlumency. If he could just learn to do this every night, maybe he'd be able to lock Voldemort out of his mind for good, and sleep peacefully for a change. These thoughts spurred him into action. He needed to find that book Hunter had been reading. Perhaps it held more clues that could help him.
Looking around, however, Harry had no idea where he might have gone. There were doors on every side of the square house and they were all closed. The only one he was sure about was his own door. He didn't know where any of the others led, and he wasn't comfortable just trying them at random.
As he was thinking this over, he heard a noise off to his right and swung around just in time to see a rather large woman exit one of the closed doors. She was round and plump, almost matronly. Harry was immediately reminded of Mrs. Weasley.
She came up to him and spoke in broken English, smiling in a motherly way, "Did you nap nice?"
Harry was surprised. He had not expected to be able to understand her. "Yes, thanks. I did sleep well."
"You feel better now?" she asked, still smiling.
"Yes, I do," he affirmed. "Who are you? Where's Mr. Hunter?"
"I, Chuen," she said, indicating herself. "Xolotl go see Tecuhtl about Tlaloc. He come back soon."
Harry's hopes fell. He really wanted that book. He looked around, hoping to see it still lying on the table where he and Hunter had eaten breakfast earlier. To his disappointment, the table was bare.
"Chuen help, Sir?" she asked, noticing his odd behaviour.
"There was a book... Mr. Hunter was reading it earlier at breakfast. Do you know where it is?" he asked hopefully.
"Ahh... yes," she said, her face lighting up. "Book in library," she said.
"Library?" Harry asked. "Where?"
"Chuen show Sir," she said, indicating that he follow. "Come. This way."
She led him to the third door on the side opposite Harry's room. He reasoned that it must be kept locked, because she waved her hand in front of the handle-less door and it immediately sprung open. Inside was a vast room full of books.
Hunter's library would make Hermione drool, Harry thought. The trouble was he had no idea where to begin looking. There were so many books, that he reckoned it could take him hours to find the one he was looking for.
He was about to ask Chuen for help when she abruptly disappeared.
So much for that, he thought with a sigh. Figuring he had nothing better to do, he decided he might as well get started.
First, he perused the large shelves stacked haphazardly with books, and quickly realised the
situation was more hopeless than he had originally thought. The books were in no particular order. They were not grouped by subject, author, or any other means that Harry could ascertain. Finding the one he wanted would take hours, at this rate, he thought grumpily.
After an hour, he was groaning in frustration when the door opened and sunlight streamed into the room. Expecting it to be Hunter or Chuen, Harry did not turn around. "I'm looking for the book on Occlumency," he said irritably from behind a rather dusty shelf, "but if it's here, I don't seem to be able to find it."
"Xolotl files his books by when he gets them," a feminine voice said, with a heavy accent but in perfect English. "It would take hours for anyone else to find a particular volume, but him - two minutes," she said, snapping her fingers, "as long as no one moves them out of
place."
Harry poked his head out from behind the shelf. Standing in the doorway, looking at him accusingly, was a girl about his age. She was dressed in fine clothes made of a delicate material. Her dark hair was braided in one long braid and she wore gold jewelry. It was obvious she was nobility from the way she held herself. She moved with a grace that reminded Harry of a princess. He immediately felt his neck grow warm.
"Er... sorry. I wasn't expecting anyone," Harry stammered.
The girl raised her eyebrow. "No? It seemed you were expecting someone, just not me," she said haughtily.
"Do you live here?" Harry asked.
"Of course not," the girl replied rather disdainfully.
"Then, in my world it is considered polite to knock before entering someone else’s room," Harry said coolly.
"I was looking for Xolotl," she said snapped. She seemed taken aback that someone would address her in such a manner.
"Who?" Harry asked with false politeness. He had heard Chuen refer to Stephen as Xolotl, but he wasn’t going to tell her that.
"Your- how you say? Your brother," she said. At Harry's blank look, she said impatiently,
"The one called Haunt-er."
"He's not my brother," Harry said just as impatiently.
"Are you not from the land across the water? Eagleland?" she asked.
"That's England," Harry corrected. "And yes, I suppose we are both from there, but that doesn't make us brothers."
"In my world, when two men are from the same tribe, they are considered brothers," she said just as coolly.
Harry didn't know how to respond to that. He was saved from further discussion with the horrid girl by the appearance of the man in question barging through the door.
"Ah, Harry," he said, his mouth twisting in a smile at seeing the two of them facing off. "I see you've met the lovely Masaya."
"Masaya?" Harry asked, incredulously. "The chief's daughter? The one Tlaloc was making such a fuss about last night?"
"Yes, the one and the same," Hunter replied.
"Xolotl," Masaya said angrily, "who is this… boy?" She looked between Harry and Hunter expectantly. It was the same look Fleur had used when she had called him a little boy after his name came out of the Goblet of Fire. Harry immediately bristled.
"Ah, forgive me, Your Highness," Hunter said with a courteous bow. "It's my pleasure to introduce to you Mr. Harry James Potter - your future husband."
Chapter 5: The Legend and the Temple
A/N: For those of you struggling with the strange names, I’ve provided a pronunciation guide which I’ll keep at the end of each chapter for easy reference. Please know that this is my best guess, but it should help to know how I’m pronouncing them. I’m not an expert, but according to my research I feel this is probably pretty close. Nahutl is a real language and all the words/names are real words, picked for meaning. As I don't speak Nahutl or even Spanish, I'm not sure the guide is totally accurate, but it might help.The Shadow of the Serpent
Chapter Four: The Legend and the Temple
Harry’s mouth opened and closed soundlessly. Overwhelming panic took a firm hold of him and he could not breathe properly. Surely he had not heard correctly… Hunter was joking, right? He knew his memory was faulty at the moment, but surely he’d remember something of this magnitude, wouldn’t he?
Masaya looked as if she had just swallowed a mouthful of lemon drops and glared at Hunter defiantly. Harry noticed that she didn’t like what Hunter had said any more than he, but she didn’t looked especially surprised, either.
Hunter seemed to enjoy the looks of horror on the young people’s faces and grinned in mischievous amusement.
Once again, Harry’s anger threatened to break free from the tight reign he held on it. The older man’s mirth at his expense made his blood boil and roused the snake once again. He took deep breaths to try to remain calm and keep control. Although he didn’t notice, the temperature in the room began to rise with his growing anger.
Against his will he could hear the hissing growing louder. If only he could relax! Hunter had said anger made it stronger….
In an effort to suppress the growing presence of the thing inside him, he closed his eyes and concentrated. Suddenly, an image of Ginny in the cottage as he had last seen her came to mind. The image was so vivid he could almost conjure her. He could see her vibrant red hair glowing golden in the sun, wildflowers stuck precariously in the loose tresses, and the way her eyes sparkled when she had first seen him standing in the cottage of her dreams. Slowly, he lost himself to the memory.
Amazingly, he felt her emotions coiled around his own, giving him support. She was sleepy, confused, and concerned but resolute. It was the most pure and good thing he had ever felt in his life. Her emotions washed over him like a cool shower and made him feel stronger. The sensation brought his anger in check.
As he calmed down, however, the connection slipped away. He tried in vain to hold on to it, but it was like trying to grasp water — it was useless. He felt the loss deep in the core of his soul.
For a moment he had felt full. Now he felt emptier than he could ever remember feeling. It was one of the worst feelings had had ever had in his life. Much like the time Aunt Petunia had accidentally switched the tags on one of Dudley’s extravagant Christmas presents and given it to him by mistake, only to have it abruptly snatched away. It was almost as bad as when he realised Sirius was never coming back. All of these emotions were playing out on his face, even though he was not aware of it. If he wasn’t in the presence of others, he might have cried.
When he opened his eyes, he saw Hunter and the girl staring at him. Hunter’s amusement was gone and Masaya regarded him warily. Both had small beads of sweat dripping down their faces. Hunter produced two white clothes from his pocket and tossed one to the girl, who delicately patted her face with it. Hunter mopped his brow. Harry, on the other hand, felt cool enough. He didn’t feel hot in the least.
“All right there, Harry?” Hunter asked. His voice sounded concerned and… guilty?
“Yes,” Harry said coldly. He didn’t notice the blast of cold air he sent in Hunter’s direction that had the older man shivering through his sweat. “Why, in the name of Merlin, wouldn’t I be?” he said sarcastically. He knew he bloody well wasn’t all right, but he wouldn’t admit it for 10,000 Galleons. His temper may be under control, but he was still angry. Hunter’s joke made him feel as if he were ten years old again and being teased by Dudley and his gang. He hated that feeling.
“Before you get all upset again, I suppose I’d better explain,” Hunter said, wiping more sweat from his forehead with the handkerchief. He shivered from the draft that had suddenly seemed to blow through the room, but did not let his discomfort get the better of him. The boy was powerful indeed; more powerful than he had imagined. In this case, looks were definitely deceiving. Thankfully, his voice was smooth and did not betray the inner turmoil going on inside his mind.
Wondering again if he should trust him, Harry didn’t say anything but nodded curtly. He didn’t have confidence in his voice right now. The anger was still there, just under the surface, ready to break free again at any moment.
Seeing Harry’s rigid countenance, Hunter sighed and sat down at his desk. Harry had not noticed it before because it was piled high with books, papers, charts, and maps. “This is a long tale, lad. You’d better have a seat.” He waved his hand and conjured a chair out of thin air. Harry was shocked. He hadn’t even used a wand.
Glancing at the young woman who looked ready to bolt, he said, “You stay too,” he told her sternly. “This involves you too.”
She looked mollified and sat down uncomfortably in the chair Hunter conjured for her, fingering her delicate bracelets nervously. Harry shrunk as far away from her as he could get and steadily avoided looking at her. He kept his eyes on Hunter and gave him a glare that would melt a lesser man.
Seeing the extent of the young man’s anger, Hunter tried to defuse the situation. “Harry, I apologise for my little joke. I shouldn’t have done that.” Harry didn’t say anything but let Hunter know through his body language that he heard him. He was still too upset to talk.
Hunter continued. “If you’ll indulge me for just a moment, I’d like to start at the beginning. It’ll help explain why I said what I said. I know that some of what I am about to tell you seems unrelated, but I think it’s important for you to hear the whole story.” Hunter paused, silently asking his permission to continue.
“As long as you tell me the truth, I don’t have a problem with that,” Harry answered, surprised that his voice sounded as calm as it did.
Whatever Hunter had to say seemed serious, judging from the look on his face. His face looked older and more haggard than he had ever seen it. Harry couldn’t understand why he should look so upset when he had been joking only a few minutes ago, but he was too angry with the man to care.
“Yes… the truth,” Hunter said wryly. “Perhaps I will start there.” Hunter leaned back in his chair and steepled his fingers in contemplation.
“…many years ago, Harry, I was lied to by someone I trusted implicitly.” He took a deep breath and closed his eyes. The torture on his face was raw and twisted with emotion. For a moment Harry wondered if he was going to continue.
When he spoke again, his voice was soft and riddled with pain. “As a result, I lost everything that was truly important to me. Voldemort killed my family, Harry. My wife and infant son can be counted among his victims.”
He waited for this information to sink in before he continued. Harry didn’t know what to say. Voldemort killed his family? Harry knew that this was not unusual. Many families had been destroyed by the Dark Lord during his first reign. Hagrid had said it was the main reason people feared to speak his name. Was this why Hunter seemed so ill-tempered most the time? Harry was starting to see the man in a new light when Stephen continued.
He sighed heavily. “I was utterly destroyed. For a time, all I wanted was revenge. Then you defeated Voldemort, and I didn’t even have that anymore. I left England in order to save my sanity. From that point on I travelled the world seeking out the most dangerous and reckless missions possible, hoping that one day fate would catch up to me. I was not foolish enough or brave enough to try to take my own life, but I welcomed death with open arms.
“I am ashamed to admit that I amassed quite a lucrative business during that time. People paid me large sums of money to do the impossible, and I somehow always came through. It didn’t matter to me what the purpose was behind what I was doing. I never asked questions, even though I am quite sure that some of what I was hired to do was more or less unsavoury.
“You see, Harry, I wanted to die. My life was over and all that was left was finding a way to get through the next day, hour, minute….” His voice trailed off and he paused again, making Harry wonder what he was thinking. His face was thoughtful and pensive. Without warning he spoke.
“One day a man, one of my benefactors whom I knew dabbled in the Dark Arts, approached me with a proposition. He wanted me to find a lost civilisation… a colony of ancient magical people who had virtually disappeared centuries ago. Many believed that they had died out from starvation and disease, but this man was convinced that they still existed. He had heard rumours of a hidden island located somewhere off the coast of South America that held treasures beyond imagination. More importantly, legend told that these ancient people had a secret power — a power that could revolutionize the Wizarding World.
“Needless to say, I was intrigued. I did not trust this man, but I accepted reluctantly and set off for South America armed with the little information given to me. I spent hours researching the history and learning the ancient language. Languages come easily to me, but this one seemed to be ingrained in my very soul. It didn’t take me long to become proficient enough to interpret the ancient documents I was given.
“It all came together far too easily. I knew the road was dangerous, but I ignored the signs. Three previous teams had disappeared without a trace and my investor was growing frustrated and impatient. He put me in touch with a guide who claimed to know the location of the island. I paid him a large sum of money to get me as close to the place as possible, but he tricked me and left me floating in the middle of the ocean.
“I floated for days, coming close to death. At some point I must have passed out and when I woke up I was here. My dingy had found its own way. Tecuhtl has said many times that the Gods brought me here. Maybe he’s right. I know that I shouldn’t have been able to just float up on shore like I did. The Ancient Ones put many protective wards around this island — not unlike Hogwarts. Yet that’s exactly what happened.”
“So they let you stay?” Harry asked. “Have you been here ever since?”
“No, I leave occasionally. I was granted permission to stay as long as I want. Tecuhtl asked me to teach his people my language and culture. In exchange, I am given a place to live, free reign of the island, and ancient artefacts to take back to the Wizard and Muggle worlds. Money is no longer an issue for me. I have more than I could ever need, thanks to my generous friends.”
“What about the wizard that sent you here?” Harry asked. “Didn’t he come looking for you? Weren’t you obligated to let him know what you found out?” His mind was a sea of questions.
Hunter shrugged. “He has no idea where I am. I hold no contract with him and he has no claim on anything I bring back from my expeditions. I was given false information that nearly cost me my life. I owe him nothing, as far as I’m concerned, but I owe the people of Tlilli Tlapalla my life.”
His blue eyes flickered to the girl sitting next to Harry. She looked repugnant and turned her head away as if pouting, but did not speak.
“What does all this have to do with me?” Harry pressed. “And her?” He jerked his head towards Masaya.
Hunter shifted uneasily in his chair. “Ah, yes… Now we get to the crux of the matter.” His gaze shifted from Harry to Masaya, who was listening impatiently.
“Xolotl,” she said angrily. “I refuse to allow you….” She did not finish, just continued to glare at him supremely.
Hunter and Masaya locked eyes. “This might be easier coming from you,” he told her.
“No,” she said stubbornly. “I have not submitted my will to this agreement and I will never accept it.”
“One of you had better tell me,” Harry said threateningly.
Hunter sighed. “Well, Harry, it’s like this…. The Council has some rather unusual ideas,” he said hesitantly.
“My arrival was foretold by a great Seer of the age.” He looked to be almost embarrassed. “Because of the circumstances surrounding my arrival - including the timing of it during an important religious ceremony - I am seen by the people of this island as akin to a divine being.”
Harry snorted. Hunter was many things, but divine was not one of them.
“Yes, yes. I know,” he said laughing. “It’s hard to swallow. But the Mixtecs, like their ancient Muggle ancestors, are very in-tune with nature and the universe. They believe that events happen for a purpose. My arrival was no accident, just as your present circumstances are not accidental. It was all foretold many years ago and written down in the ancient book called Popol Vuh. It’s an ancient book of prophesy written by the ones who created this island. I’ve read it myself, and I have to admit it has some validity.”
“All right,” Harry said with growing irritation. “I know you said to be patient, but I still don’t see what this has to do with her,” he said, indicating Masaya, “and me.”
“I was just about to get to that,” Hunter said crossly. “Tecuhtl, the chief of this island and Masaya’s father, is a very religious man. He has promised his firstborn daughter to The Plumed Serpent, otherwise known as Quetzalcoatl - one of the most important Gods in the history of the whole Mesoamerican culture.”
“How can she be promised to a God - isn’t that the stuff of fairytales? What are they planning to do, anyway? Throw her in a volcano, or something? Besides, you just implied that she and I… you know,” Harry said with growing irritation. He was very confused now. None of this was making any sense. He was losing patience with the history lesson and was very suspicious of where this was going. “What are you on about, Hunter? Just speak plainly.”
Hunter sighed again. He had no idea this would be so hard. “The Council believes that Plumed Serpent will take human form this time, Harry, as his greatest test against evil.”
“So?” he said. “What does this have to do with me?”
“I see you’re still not tracking with me,” Hunter said with a small grunt of exasperation. “The people of Tlilli Tlapalla have been watching the signs written in the heavens for many years now. The Mixtecs believe that evil forces are at work in the world right now. Plumed Serpent was to be born sixteen years ago, almost to the day.”
Harry snorted. “If you’re talking about me and Voldemort, then you’re mad. He’s powerful, but he’s no God. And I’m definitely not this… whoever you think I am.”
Hunter raised his eyebrow. “No? Are you sure? The Mixtec definition of a God is very loose, Harry.”
Harry sputtered. “Of course I’m sure.”
“What if I told you that Voldemort is the being they call Tezcatlipoca? He’s certainly proven himself invincible. Even a rebounded Killing Curse didn’t stop him.” Hunter said the word ‘rebounded’ with a measure of significance. He seemed to be implying something, and continued to look at Harry thoughtfully. “Only two people in history have ever survived any form of the Killing Curse.”
“But,” Harry said slowly, “if Voldemort is Tezcatlipoca, then… what you’re trying to say is…. You think I’m….” He couldn’t say it out loud. It was too absurd.
“You are the Mixtec’s Plumed Serpent, Harry. The protector of humanity,” Hunter said grimly.
“But I’m not,” Harry said quickly, jumping up from his chair.
“Of course you are,” Hunter said in his infuriatingly logical and calm voice.
“I can’t be,” Harry said angrily, pacing. “My mother… she- No. It’s crazy! You’re both crazy to think…”
Masaya snorted indignantly. “Of course he’s not! Look at him, Xolotl. He’s a child. Next to Tlaloc, he’s puny and weak! This boy is no warrior!”
“Hold on!” Harry yelled, whirling on her. “Just because I’m not who you think I am, is no cause to go insulting me! I don’t have anything to prove to you, or anyone else!”
“Harry,” Hunter said patiently, breaking up the potential argument. “You are the Plumed Serpent. All the signs point to it. According to the prophecy - both Dumbledore’s and the Ancient Ones’ - you are the defender of humanity. Your destiny is to defeat the Evil One.”
“I don’t want- …Don’t you think I’d know if I was this - what did you say… the defender of humanity?” Harry was ranting now.
“Why does everyone seem to think I’m something I’m not?” he yelled. “I don’t want this! I’m not your guy! I’m nobody but Harry. Plain, ordinary Harry! I may be a wizard, and my Mum may have died to save me, but I don’t want any of it. Do you hear me? You can shove your bloody prophecies and legends. I’m done. Understand? Done! Tell Dumbledore and anyone else you bloody well care to that I quit! Find someone else to save the bloody world! I’m going home.”
He turned on his heel and slammed out the door.
Hunter looked over at Masaya, who had not said a word since inciting Harry’s anger. She seemed to be shocked and appalled at Harry’s childish outburst.
“He’s very rude,” she said disdainfully.
“Hmmm…” he said thoughtfully. “That didn’t go over very well, did it?”
************************************************************
Harry didn’t even know where he was going. All he knew was that he needed to get as far away from Stephen Hunter and that girl as he could possibly get.
Imagine! The git thought he was some sort of reincarnated God! It was absolutely ludicrous!
He marched out of the courtyard and through the breezeway, blind to his surroundings. He was done. Through! What he really needed was to go home. Home to Ginny, Ron, Hermione, and Mr. and Mrs. Weasley- everyone who really cared about him. He’d even welcome Grimmauld Place to this island paradise with its loony ideas about Gods and all that nonsense. He’d have to be mad to believe that load of rubbish! Plumed Serpent, indeed!
Didn’t he have enough on his plate already with Voldemort in his head, wanting to kill him? Hadn’t he lost his parents and Sirius to the monster? Wasn’t it enough that he had every Death Eater in England trying to do him in? Didn’t it mean something that he had people around him dying, and that he had to live with the Dursleys for protection, and that he had to be either a victim or a murderer? Was this some sort of cosmic joke - how much more can Harry Potter take before he cracks?
He continued to rant to himself as he walked, not caring where he was, how crazy he looked, or how long he’d been walking. Every single thing that had ever gone wrong in his life went through his mind, fuelling his anger. He was so wrapped up in his thoughts, he didn’t even realise that the snake was strangely quiet, even though he was as angry as he had ever been in his life - certainly as angry as he had been a month ago when he had tried to destroy Dumbledore’s office. He had no idea how long he walked. It could have been minutes or hours. Time held no meaning.
He practically sprinted past buildings and archways, winding through courtyards and breezeways - his anger no less diminished - until he was standing in front of the massive pyramid at the very heart of the city. There, he stopped short. For the first time since leaving Stephen’s house, he knew where he was. Looking straight up, he took in the gigantic stone structure with its massive carvings of unusual snake-like creatures and thousands of stone steps leading up to the top of the five-tier structure. Without thinking, he began to climb.
He must have climbed for hours because when he finally reached the top he was sweating profusely, totally out of breath, and dead tired. The sun was beginning to dip into the horizon. His anger had finally diminished, probably from the physical exertion of the climb.
The view from the top of the pyramid was fantastic and well worth the climb. Turning around, he sat down on the ledge to catch his breath. He could see the entire island from here.
Harry realised that the island was actually much bigger than he had originally thought and consisted of one main island with several smaller islands surrounding it. The smaller islands were more like small plots of land that didn’t look natural. Harry guessed they had been made by the natives to grow and harvest crops, from the looks of them.
He sat there for a long time looking out at the horizon and the city below, trying not to think of anything other than how beautiful it was. He suddenly wished with every fibre of his being that Ginny were there with him. He missed Ron and Hermione, too, but Ginny would really appreciate the scene set before him. The old, familiar feeling of loneliness washed over him and he stood abruptly to try and squash it. He didn’t want to feel that right now.
Walking over to the large stone temple that stood atop the pyramid, he examined the stone carvings with fascination. They were like long coiled snakes, only there were feathers carved around the heads. The snakes appeared to be guarding the door. The door itself did not appear to have any handles and when Harry tried to open it, he found that it would not budge. He tried everything he could think of but eventually grew frustrated with his inability to move the thing. He assumed that it was magically locked, and he couldn’t even try a simple Alohamora without his missing wand. He’d have to remember to ask Hunter about it when he saw him next. The git owed him that, at least.
Looking up at the snakes, he suddenly had an idea. Remembering the door that led to the Chamber of Secrets, he focused on the snakes, imagining that they were real. Holding that image in his mind, he spoke the word ‘open’ in what he hoped was Parseltongue. It was always very difficult to tell if the words that came out of his mouth were English or Parseltongue, but regardless, he was shocked to see the door swing forward, allowing him entrance.
It was very dark inside the temple, but torches flared to life for him as he passed through the entranceway, illuminating more carvings, stone columns, and statues scattered about the spacious room. The building had very high ceilings, and Harry was surprised that it consisted of only one room. He had expected several, judging from the size of the building. In the middle of the room was a stone platform - a dais that had an open skylight directly above. Fascinated, Harry found himself walking up the steps and standing in the centre of the dais, staring up at the star-riddled night sky.
He was suddenly very tired. Practically falling down, he lay down on the stone dais and stretched out on his back, looking up into the heavens, wondering what Ginny was doing at that very moment.
He was so sleepy.
She felt so close… He could feel her essence surrounding him, filling him.
If only… she was here… now.
***********************************************************
Harry blinked. He was not lying down anymore, he was standing. It was so bright it seemed to be in the middle of the afternoon. Sunlight was pouring into the windows from every angle, blinding him. He shielded his eyes and found that he was still on top of the temple.
No… that wasn’t right. It had been twilight when he climbed up here. He remembered falling asleep. Had he slept that long?
Suddenly he became aware of something. He turned around quickly and scanned the statues dotted throughout the temple, searching. His keen eyes avoided the sun and searched for any sign of movement, like they did during a Quidditch game when he was hunting desperately for the Snitch.
He felt it again.
Stealthily, he tiptoed over to a large statue in the corner. Trying to be as quick as humanly possible, he faked to the left and then flung himself to the right, grabbing hold of something as it tried to streak past.
His fingers found the hem of a soft nightgown as he dove. They both tumbled to the ground, laughing.
“Thought you’d get away, did you?” he said happily when he could speak.
“That was a tricky move, Potter,” Ginny said, still laughing and feeling very out of breath as a result of being pinned underneath him. She practically glowed with happiness. “How did you know I was there?”
He shrugged. “I just knew,” he said, grinning. “You’ll never be able to hide from me, you know.”
Ginny giggled. “A girl can try, can’t she?”
Harry grew serious. “I missed you.”
She also became solemn. “I missed you too.”
They both seemed to realise at the same time the predicament they were in. Harry was slightly on top of her and she was pinned to the ground by the weight of his body. Her nightgown was very thin, as were his island clothes. They were so light it felt as if there was almost nothing at all between them.
Harry felt his body stir and knew that she had felt it too. She looked up at him, wide-eyed and innocent but sombre and serious. The desire was evident in both their faces.
Not caring how it had happened - not taking the time to question the circumstances they now found themselves in - Harry brought his mouth to hers swiftly. She opened her mouth to him at once, as if her very life depended on it. He rolled her over so that she was on top of him and he was lying on the stone floor, giving her a more comfortable position.
When they broke apart she grinned impishly. “I have you where I want you,” she said from on top, her ginger hair streaming down. She pinned his hands behind his head.
“You can have me wherever and whenever you like Miss Weasley,” he said huskily, staring at her mouth and not fighting.
She kissed him again, passionately, and released his hands. They immediately came up around her waist and encircled her small frame then trailed up to get tangled in her long mane of red hair. Merlin, she felt good!
“Ginny?” he asked weakly when they came up for air. “Are we dreamwalking again?”
“Yes,” she said with certainty, “although I have no idea where we are this time.”
They sat up reluctantly and looked around. “This is Tlilli Tlapalla. We’re on top of the pyramid.”
She looked confused. “Where?”
“That’s where I am,” he said. “The island of Tlilli Tlapalla.” He stood up and helped her to her feet.
As they walked around looking at their surroundings, Harry tried to fill her in on everything he knew up to this point. He deliberately avoided any mention of Masaya and that whole mess, though. There was no way he was getting into it now. Ginny could yell at him later. He wasn’t wasting one moment of his time with her arguing.
When he had finished, she looked at him warily. “What are you leaving out, Harry James Potter?” she asked suspiciously, crossing her arms.
He stammered. “N-nothing,” he said innocently. He hoped.
“Nothing, my foot!” she said with an angry stamp. “You’re hiding something from me!”
“No, not really-” he began. Knowing she could feel his attempts to conceal the truth, he admitted, “Well, yes. There is one little thing…”
“I knew it!” she said. “Is it something bad? Something to do with Voldemort?”
“Nothing like that,” he answered evasively.
“Are you in danger?” she asked quietly.
“No more than usual,” he said. “But if it’s all the same with you, I’d rather not discuss it. I just ran into a small snag here. It’s something I don’t want you to worry about - nothing I can’t handle. Please, Ginny. Just trust me on this. When it’s all worked out, I promise I’ll tell you.”
She looked at him hard for a few minutes before she spoke. “All right, then,” she said, shrugging her shoulders casually.
He was taken aback. He had expected her to fight him on this, and was extremely surprised that she had not. He didn’t feel any animosity or anger from her at all. Just curiosity.
“Why are you so surprised?” she asked him.
Harry laughed. “Dunno. Maybe because I know how stubborn you can be.”
“Stubborn, yes. Nosey, no. If you don’t want to tell me Harry, I can accept that. As long as you tell me the important things, I can live with a few secrets.”
Against his will, he felt a wave of guilt followed by a wave of suspicion that was not his own. There were still a few major secrets he was keeping from her — including the prophecy, and the thought weighed heavily on his mind.
He was a mass of conflicted emotions. He wanted to tell her, but he was afraid of the consequences. Afraid for her safety. If Voldemort ever found out she knew, then she’d be in even greater danger.
“There’s something else, isn’t there? Please don’t be afraid to tell me Harry,” Ginny said. He could feel her fear for his safety, but her determination and strength as well.
“You’re better off not knowing,” he told her quietly. He could sense her frustration.
“Why? Because I’m such a baby that I can’t take care of myself?” she said. The anger in her voice was backed up by her emotions which ripped through him violently. He felt the heat of her prickling anger and the indignation that he was keeping something important from her.
But he also sensed that she was conflicted. She didn’t want to feel angry with him and was feeling guilty because of it. “Look, Gin,” he said, using her shortened name and a calm voice to try to sooth her anger. “This has to do with the prophecy that Neville smashed when we were are the Ministry. I know what it said, but Voldemort doesn’t. At least, he doesn’t know all of it. As far as I know, only Dumbledore and I know the whole thing. If I tell you, then you might be in even more danger than you already are.” His eyes and his heart pleaded with her to understand.
“Harry,” she said gently, placing a hand on his arm. “I understand your concern, but think about it. He probably thinks I already know. I’m already in danger.” Harry could feel her grow serious and a cold chill spread through him.
“On second thought, Harry, don’t tell me.”
“What!” he exclaimed. “But you just said-”
She moved her hand to his chest. “If I don’t know, he can’t force me to tell. Even under Veritaserium. Whatever was in that glass ball was important. Important enough for my father to almost die protecting it. Important enough that Dumbledore wanted it guarded. If it’s that important, then I shouldn’t know.”
Harry marvelled at her bravery and common sense. He felt a rush of something… something unnameable flow through him. It was not coming from her; it was coming from him. Whatever it was, he felt the same emotion flowing back into him. It was such a wonderful and complete feeling, that his face heated up and his stomach did a little leap. He watched as her face glowed pink.
Then he felt an emotion he recognized. Happiness. It was a wonderful feeling and erased all the doubt, anger, and suspicion from moments earlier.
He smiled and she returned the smile wholeheartedly. Taking her hand in his, he led her to the door of the temple.
“Where are we going?” she asked.
“I want you to see something.” He led her outside to the spot where he had rested earlier. It looked exactly as he remembered it. He felt her awe and excitement and appreciation and wonder at the sight that beheld them from atop the 400 foot pyramid. Feeling her emotions only intensified his own, renewing his similar feelings from earlier. The sun was dipping down into the ocean, casting a red and gold glow on the city below. The horizon was a mixture of so many different colours; it was as if a painter had used every beautiful colour on his palate to make it just for them.
They stayed there for a long time just drinking in the sight, wrapped in each others arms. For a moment, the world slipped away and they were free.
**********************************************************
He woke up with a pain in his neck from the odd position he had lain in on the floor. It was late and the room was dark except for the faint glow of the torch light and the full moon overhead. Slowly, Harry stumbled to his feet and looked up just as a bright ray of moonlight hit him full in the face.
Suddenly, the room began to spin. He was so surprised, he let out a small squeak as he tried desperately to keep his balance. It wasn’t long before he realised that not only was he spinning, but the dais he was standing on was sinking. He tried to move his legs to jump off but, unfortunately, his feet were locked into place.
Harry knew he was in trouble. He shouldn’t be here. It hadn’t even occurred to him that coming into the temple was something he shouldn’t be doing. He had just been acting on instinct. Unfortunately, his instinct usually involved breaking a lot of rules and getting himself into trouble. As the dais fell, he wondered what he would find waiting for him at the bottom and a wave of fear encased him.
When the spinning stopped, he found himself in a whole different room. This room was much smaller than the one above. It was empty, except for several unusual stone carvings placed at opposite sides of the enclosed space. They looked almost like poles or columns and resembled humans, but were so mixed up he didn’t know what they were supposed to be.
For some reason, the thought struck him that the statues were placed north, south, east, and west with the dais positioned directly in the middle of the room. He didn’t know how he knew, but he was certain he was right.
He tried to move away, but his feet were still held firm. As he was trying to think of a way out of this situation, a bright beam of moonlight from high above bathed him in a soft, yellow light through the opening in the ceiling. At the same time, the statues surrounding him came alive, opening their old, stone eyes and mouths as if they had not done so in centuries. The one to the north spoke first, causing his heart to almost stop beating in shock and fear.
“Do not be afraid, My Prince,” it said in a grating, ancient voice. Harry noticed its eyes were white. “We will not harm you.”
Harry relaxed enough to ask, “Who- who are you?” He still continued to struggle to free himself.
“We are the Ancient Ones who made this island,” the statue to the East said, its yellow eyes blazing. “We have been asleep for a very long time waiting for you.”
“Why have you been waiting to talk to me?” he asked in surprise. He had to get out of here!
“You are the Chosen One,” the statue to the South said. The statues red eyes seemed to cut right through him.
“Chosen One? I think you’ve got the wrong bloke. I’m not your Chosen One. You’ve got me mixed up with someone else.” Harry babbled. If he could keep this conversation going, then maybe he’d think of a way to escape.
“You are the Warrior of Prophecy, the one chosen to defeat Tezcatlipoca for the final time, vanquishing him from this Earth for all eternity,” the one to the West said. Its eyes were black as onyx.
“What makes you think it’s me?” Harry said, stopping his struggle slightly.
“You bare the Mark. Only the Chosen One could have awakened us,” the one to the North said.
Harry stopped struggling and stared. “Why me?” he asked. The question had been rolling around in his head for years. Here, finally, was someone who could answer it. He had to know. Maybe if he could understand, this would all make sense to him and he could accept it.
“You were chosen because of your Power.” It was the Statue to the East speaking now. They seemed to be taking turns speaking, going in a clock-wise pattern. “You hold the Power inside you to vanquish the Evil One from this Earth for all eternity.”
“But how am I supposed to do that?” he yelled in frustration. “He’s so much more powerful than I could ever hope to be! I’m just a kid. How am I supposed to defeat him?”
“You are more than you believe. Use the Key to unlock your Power. Once your Power is unleashed, you will have all that you need to defeat the Evil One,” the one to the South said.
“I don’t understand!” he yelled.
“You will,” the one to the West said. “In time, you will understand. It has all been decided.”
“Tezcatlipoca is angry because he knows his days are short,” the being to the North said. “He will stop at nothing to keep his hold on this Earth. Beware! The Shadow of the Serpent is your greatest weakness! He will use the Shadow to try to control his destiny.”
“What is the Shadow of the Serpent?” Harry asked. “How am I supposed to protect myself if I don’t even know what I’m protecting myself from?”
“The Shadow is your greatest weakness,” the one to the East repeated. “Use the Key to defend yourself.”
“What Key? Where is this Key? How am I supposed to get it?” Harry asked desperately.
“You already have the Key,” the West said. “The Key will unlock your Power.”
“Yes, you said that,” Harry said impatiently. “But I still don’t know what this Key is or how to find it.” Why did everything have to come in riddles and double-talk?
“Use your heart to find it,” the North said. “You have all that you need, My Prince, to defeat the Evil One.”
Without warning, all the statues began talking at once, amplifying their voices in their unity. Harry’s heart was hammering in his chest as he listened. It was so loud he thought his eardrums might burst. “Accept our Gifts, Mighty Quetzalcoatl, and let it protect you in the coming Dark Days. Use the Key to unleash your Power and vanquish Tezcatlipoca, once and for all. Let all who see the Light know that Plumbed Serpent has returned!”
Suddenly, the eyes of the statues glowed green. As one, they opened their mouths and brilliant white light shot out of each one, straight into Harry. He was hit by the beams from all four directions, taking him completely by surprise. Then world went black.
***********************************************************
Stephen had been searching for Harry for what seemed like hours. He had no idea where the boy could have gone and was beginning to get worried. The moon was just beginning to settle into the night sky and he had searched everywhere he could think of, to no avail. Harry had just disappeared.
He silently berated himself for teasing the boy. He didn’t know Harry well, and obviously the teenager was under a great deal of stress. Of course he would be angry! Had he stopped to think about it, he wouldn’t like to be the target of someone else’s poor excuse for a joke either. Not about something so serious.
Hunter knew Harry was no ordinary boy and had not lived a conventional life, but he had not considered how fragile his emotions were until he had stormed out. He had tried not to think about the boy since leaving England. When Voldemort had murdered his wife and son, he had wanted revenge. Killing Voldemort became a personal mission. Unfortunately, Harry Potter beat him to it. All these years some small part of him had held it against the boy.
It was unfair, really, now that he thought about it. Harry had been a baby, not much older than his son, Adam, when he had defeated the Dark Lord. In the process the boy had lost the two people who cared most about him - his parents. From the little he knew, Harry’s life had not been easy. He could see it in his eyes. Harry may have survived, but Voldemort had shattered his life just as much as he had his own.
Hunter was making his way towards the middle of the city when he saw it. A bright, green light erupted from the top of the pyramid. That could only mean one thing.
Suddenly, the sky darkened. Thunder and lightening crashed, and the ground shook slightly. The people all around the city were coming out of their houses and looking up towards the temple, which was still emitting a glowing green beam of light from inside. The people around him began to talk excitedly among themselves, shouting and pointing, fear and awe evident on their faces.
Taking this as his cue, Hunter Apparated to the summit of the pyramid.
************************************************************
Ages past scrolled through his head and he saw history, not as men believed it but as it actually was. The enemy was making his move again and it was time. The people needed him and he would answer the call. He soared in the heavens, circling and diving, searching. Time was growing short and he needed to find the Key before it was too late. Why was it so elusive? The mist was blocking his view, hiding the answer. He had to break through the mist before his enemy found him, or it would be too late.
He knew the snake was looking for the Key, too. If the snake found the Key first, all would be lost, and his people would die. He could not allow that to happen! His enemy would not win…could not win. He would never allow that to happen! All he needed to do was to find it first. He knew he was close…so close….
************************************************************
When he came to, he was once again in his room at Stephen’s. The situation felt very familiar, but this time it was still night so there was no sun streaming in on his face from the open window. It appeared to be in the middle of the night - he couldn’t be sure without a watch - because his room was dark except for a faint glow of candlelight coming from his bedside table. Once again, he heard drumming and chanting coming from far off, but he didn’t find that especially unusual now.
His body felt stiff and sore. Thankfully, the pain was not from his scar this time but it was spread all over his body - like he had been hit by a very powerful stunner. He heard feet shuffling and a door open and close, but he didn’t see anything. Feeling around, his hand came across his glasses. The dimly lit room soon came into focus, and he saw something that made him gasp.
Two identical, bracelets now covered his wrist area on both hands. The bands were made up of funny symbols, something like runes, and each wrist had an exact replica of the four statues he had encountered in the temple. He tried to take them off but found them immovable. They wouldn’t budge. Thankfully, they weren’t uncomfortable, although they did feel funny on his arms because he wasn’t used to wearing anything but a wristwatch.
He swore loudly in frustration at his unsuccessful attempts to rid himself of the damned things, but thankfully no one was around to hear him. He finally gave up.
Examining himself further, he also discovered a green, swirl mark like a tattoo in the middle of his chest. It was about four inches in length and sat dead centre on his chest. It sort of resembled a coiled snake or a conch shell, and Harry stared at it in fascination wondering how he had gotten it.
Hunter strode into the room, without bothering to knock. Harry frantically looked around for something to cover his bare chest.
“Don’t bother. I’ve already seen it,” he told Harry, pulling a chair up to the side of the bed. “What I’m more curious about is why you went up there in the first place.”
“Dunno,” Harry said with a shrug. “It seemed like a good idea at the time.” He didn’t want to tell the man that he climbed the pyramid because he was trying to get as far away from him as possible.
“Harry, do you know what that place is?” Hunter asked, his eyes serious.
“No,” Harry answered. “Not really. I mean, I know it’s a pyramid and that there’s a temple or something on top, but that’s all I know.”
“It’s more than that, Harry,” Hunter said. His voice held an odd edge to it. He seemed apprehensive - like he wasn’t sure how Harry was going to take the news. “It’s the Temple of the Plumbed Serpent. In other words, it’s Quetzalcoatl’s temple. How did you get in, anyway? It’s kept locked and only the priests know how to enter.”
Harry looked away. “I think I got in by speaking Parseltongue.”
When Harry stole a glance, he observed that Hunter looked floored. Obviously no one had told him that he was a Parselmouth.
“Well,” he said, shocked. “I suppose that’s one way to do it. Have you always had that ability?”
Harry shrugged. “I think so. At least since… well, since Voldemort gave me this,” he said, pointing to his scar. “Dumbledore thinks he transferred some of his powers to me when he tried to kill me.”
“I wonder what else he transferred to you,” Hunter mused.
“What do you mean?” Harry asked. He had never thought much about it before.
“Voldemort’s a very talented Legilimens,” Hunter said. “He also uses dreamwalking on his captives to gain insight into their thoughts and memories, or to inspire fear in them. He can possess people, and he was always known for his academic skills, especially in Divination and Potions. Those are just a few of his talents.”
“Well, I don’t know about Legilimency. If it’s anything like Occlumency I doubt I’d be that great at it. I found out recently that I can dreamwalk.” He blushed at the memory of his previous dreamwalking experiences. For some reason, though, he didn’t feel comfortable discussing Ginny with Hunter. “But I’ve never tried to possess anyone - nor would I ever want to. I’m terrible at Divination, fair at Transfiguration and Charms, but Potions is my worst subject. Trelawney says I am ‘sorely lacking in the Inner Eye,’” he said, imitating Trelawney’s whispy voice, “and Snape just plain hates me. Defence Against the Dark Arts is my best subject. I do okay in Herbology and Care of Magical Creatures, too, but I wouldn’t say I’m good at them.”
“We should do some experiments to see what exactly you’re capable of,” Hunter said, once again reminding him of Hermione. She always got that excited, determined gleam in her eye when she was trying to solve a problem. “What I’d like to hear about now, though, is what happened in the temple.” He nodded towards the new tattoo that adorned his body.
Harry spent the next half hour describing in as much detail as possible what had happened after he had entered the temple, minus his dreamwalk with Ginny. Hunter asked questions, but allowed Harry to tell the story at his own pace and in his own words, only interrupting for clarification.
When he was done, Hunter sat back in his chair and surveyed him closely. “What do you think about the prophecy now, Harry?” he asked. He didn’t sound condescending or particularly gloating. He almost seemed as if he were concerned.
“I don’t know what to think,” Harry said truthfully. “It seems surreal, really. As if it was a dream. If I didn’t have these,” he said, lifting up his wrists, “I’d think I imagined it. What do you think these are, do you suppose?”
“I’ll have to consult my books, but unless I’m mistaken that tattoo on your chest is what the natives call ehecailacozcatl, or ‘wind jewel’. It is the symbol for divine breath - a gift from the Gods - and hasn’t been seen in centuries.”
Harry frowned, looking down at his chest. “How do I get rid of it?” he asked.
Hunter looked surprised. “Why would you want to?” he asked. “If that’s really what it is, legend says it has wonderful magical properties - the least of which, is to act as a conduit to amplify your innate magical power. It could come in very handy.”
“I guess I’m stuck with it then,” Harry grumbled. “What about these?” he said, indicating his wrists.
“I know what those are for sure,” he said confidently. “Remember when I said that the Mixtec people supposedly had a secret power that could revolutionize the Wizarding World?” Harry nodded. “Well, this is it.”
“What do they do?” Harry asked.
“They act in the same way as our wands by focusing our magical power. In this case, the power is focused through the arm with the hand serving as the conduit. The bands allow the person using them to perform all sorts of wandless magic, but there are still a few spells which I have found work better with a wand.
“The natives receive their bands at puberty - roughly the same age we begin Hogwarts — and start their magical training with the priests and scribes. I was given mine shortly after arriving here,” he said, pulling up his sleeve to reveal his bands, which Harry had seen but not thought much about. Hunter’s bands were plainer than his own and made entirely of hemp and ruins.
“What do these mean?” Harry asked, pointing to the funny symbols.
“They’re hieroglyphics made from the bones of magical animals. Hence, the magical properties — similar to the cores of our wands. They’re specific to each individual,” Hunter answered. “Most relate to the person’s character, but there is some Divination involved. The Priests are responsible for crafting the bands and I can’t even begin to understand how it happens. The technology was passed down from the Ancient Ones and is a closely guarded secret.
“I’d have to consult my books to interpret yours,” he said, “although I can tell you that theses figures here,” he said pointing to the replicas of the statues, “represent the four directions and correspond to the four basic elements. It may be that you have the ability to perform some elemental magic. ”
“Elemental magic?” Harry said incredulously. “Like what?”
“That’s difficult to say,” Hunter said. “The elements you have represented in your bands are earth, wind, water, and fire. I have some idea what that entails, but we’ll have to do some tests to be sure.”
Noting Harry’s downcast demeanour, he added, “That is, if you’re all right with all this.”
Harry shrugged. It was too much to take in. “I don’t really have a choice, do I?” he said.
Hunter put a hand on Harry shoulder and forced the boy to look him in the eye. “We all have choices, Quetzal. It’s what we do with those choices that matter.”
Harry looked at him sharply at the use of the foreign name, wondering if he was making fun of him again. “Why did you call me that?” he growled.
Hunter faltered. He wasn’t sure what made him say it. It just sort of slipped out. “I-I don’t know,” he said truthfully. “It just seems to fit you, I think.”
He paused before he continued, trying to formulate his thoughts. “The quetzal is a small bird with a big destiny. It is an emerald bird, so stunning that people can’t help but look at it and marvel at its beauty and dignity. Mesoamerican kings used its green feathers to decorate their headdresses and sceptres, trying to emulate the majesty of the bird. To the ancient Mayas the quetzal symbolized beauty, freedom, and wealth. Freedom, because a quetzal will die in captivity; wealth, because the Mayas were traders, and quetzal feathers along with jade were their most sought after treasures.
“You already have the nobility — a trait you get from your father. I can see your mother’s beauty in your eyes and the way you carry yourself. The colour of your eyes is strikingly similar to the quetzal bird and was one of the first things I noticed about you.” His blue eyes bore into those wide, green eyes now, testifying to his sincerity. “You are already very valuable to both sides of this war, and the price on your head is going up the longer you survive. But,” he paused for emphasis, “it’s the freedom that makes me think of you when I see the quetzal bird.”
“What do you mean?” Harry asked.
Hunter grimaced. “Whether you know it or not, Dumbledore has kept you caged your whole life, Harry. He has held you back and given you half-truths, calling it protection.” Harry averted his eyes. He hated to be disloyal, but some part of him knew Hunter was right.
Hunter put his hand over Harry’s and patted it in a fatherly way. “Quetzals are meant to be free, Harry. And one day soon, you will break free. When you leave your past behind and start living life on your own terms, I have no doubt in my mind that you will soar.”
He thought about asking Hunter not to call him that, but some small part of him liked that someone had given him a nickname born of hope. He really needed to believe that one day he could be free. Free of Voldemort, free to love Ginny, free to live. He imagined that Sirius might have said something similar, if he had been there.
Instead of protesting the use of the nickname, he said nothing. He’d have to think about it a while longer.
Once again, Hunter paused before he spoke, letting his words sink in. “Harry,” he said slowly. “I need to apologize to you for my behaviour earlier. It wasn’t very nice of me to spring that whole marriage thing on you like I did. I really never stopped to consider how you must be feeling. From now on, I’ll pay more attention.”
He looked at the boy intently. “I’d never let anyone force something on you that you didn’t want. This is your life and your destiny. You have the right to marry whomever you want. Frankly, Masaya would not be my choice, either. Just know that my role in all this is to help you, to teach you, and to protect you. I promise I’ll do a better job of it in future.”
There didn’t seem to be any malice in the older man’s face, just sincerity, affection, and concern. Harry was struck by the thought that not many adults had ever looked at him that way. Certainly he could count the people in his life that truly cared about him on both hands. Just a few hours ago he would never have guessed that Hunter would be one of those people.
Harry nodded that he understood.
“Get some sleep,” Hunter told the boy quietly. He had seen the play of emotions on Harry’s face and knew he needed some time to process it all. “We’ll explore this more in the morning.”
“All right,” Harry said softly. As he watched Hunter leave the room and close the door silently behind him, he felt grateful that someone was there with him. Suddenly, an overwhelming sadness engulfed him.
If only he were Sirius….
All at once, he felt very tired. Sleep… Sleep seemed like a very good idea. A very good idea, indeed….
As he slept, his dreams were full of mist and visions, park benches and snakes - things he could not understand. Every so often he would see Ginny’s face. She was smiling and calling out to him from far away, but he couldn’t understand what she was trying to tell him. It seemed important. He tried yelling back, but she couldn’t hear him, either. Then the mist would come, and once again he was lost in the oppressive thickness. The only sound that made any sense at all was an evil voice deep in his subconscious. An evil voice who hissed seductive lies.
[A/N: The information about the quetzal bird was taken almost word for word from http://www.travellog.com/guatemala/quetzal.html . ]
Pronunciation guide (but please don’t take this as gospel, it’s just my best guess)
Xolotl: She-o-lot-l
Quetzal: ket-sal
Quetzalcoatl: ket-sal-co-a-tal
Tezcatlipoca: tez-cat-lip-o-ca
Tlilli Tlapalla: t-lil-li t-lap-a-la
Tecuhtl: te-cute-l
Masaya: ma-say-a
Tlaloc: tal-lock
Chac: ch-ock
Chuen: chew-an
Popol Vuh: po-pole v-ah
Mixtec: mix-tec
Chapter 6: As the 7th Month Dies-
[A/N: Sorry it has taken so long to update. I wanted to get this chapter out before Christmas but my father-in-law passed away and we were out of town for a few weeks. The writing has been going very slowly. Between that, illness (I came down with pneumonia around Thanksgiving), and the holidays I have not felt much like writing. I’m still plugging away though, and hope to have this finished before HBP comes out in July.]The Shadow of the Serpent
Chapter Five: As the 7th Month Dies…
Breakfast the next morning was a sullen affair. Both Harry and Stephen were brooding on the previous night's events, as well as other issues, and did not do much talking. Had someone come across them as they ate the generous meal spread out before them, they might have assumed the two were still quarrelling. This was not the case, however. Harry had long forgotten his disagreement with Stephen and the reason for his flight to the temple; it just didn't seem relevant any more. His experience with the Ancient Ones had curbed any doubts that he had about the older man's story. All that was left were his lingering feelings of inadequacy and the suffocating knowledge that his future was already decided for him.
As was his custom, Stephen was making the most of his time by reading and eating at the same time. Harry was beginning to get used to this routine. He had no way of knowing that Stephen was doing more introspection than actual reading because to the teenager it looked as if the ex-Auror was studying up on ancient Aztec runes. While Stephen was looking for information, his mind was not totally on the task.
At least the weather was pleasant. The humidity that had plagued the island the first few days of Harry's visit had dissipated. While still hot, his body had grown accustomed to the heat. The lighter clothing Hunter provided helped. He was grateful that he didn't have to wear his heavy school robes or the ill-fitting Muggle clothes that had been passed down to him.
A loud screech up above drew the attention of the pair to the bright blue sky. A large shadow was making its way towards them, struggling under the weight of something big and bulky. It wasn't long before Harry could make out the regal forms of two snowy owls, virtually indistinguishable from each other but for the odd marking here and there. The two flew up to the table and dropped a large, bulky package in front of Harry, then made their way to their respective owners.
"Hedwig!" Harry exclaimed, shocked to see his owl so far from home. "What are you doing here?"
"Zeus, you old rascal! Have you found a female friend?" Hunter said affectionately, stroking his bird's feathers and feeding him a bit of bacon. "I must say you have good taste. She's a beauty."
Hedwig hooted an appreciative response and Hunter laughed. "Quite intelligent, too," he said, giving Hedwig a once-over. "Don't let this one get away." Zeus responded with a low whistle of agreement.
“Is she yours?” Hunter asked Harry.
“Yes,” Harry said. “But I can’t figure out how she came to be this far from home.”
“Owls have their secrets. Even wizards don’t know how they manage it. Snowy owls in particular are very adept at finding their wizard counterparts, even when they don’t want to be found.” He ruffled the bird’s feathers affectionately. “Trust me… I know this from personal experience. They’re very stubborn, Snowy owls.”
After giving their pets some bacon and other scraps, the pair watched the two tired owls fly off together to find a spot for some much needed rest. Turning to the package, Hunter looked at it curiously. “Looks to be from Dumbledore,” he said, trying to keep his voice as neutral as possible. “It’s addressed to you.”
Surveying the brown paper that was on the outside of the package, Harry found his name along with an address, of sorts. It reminded him of his first Hogwarts letter because it was written in green ink in a fancy scroll.
Mr. H. Potter
C/O Mr. S. Hunter
Destination Unknown
Please deliver no later than 31 July
“What is the date today?” Harry asked curiously.
“31 July,” Hunter answered. His voice was unusually tight. “Why do you ask?”
“No reason,” Harry said, frowning. Birthdays had never been a big deal for him. It was just another day on the calendar, as far as the Dursleys were concerned. For Harry, it was another step closer to independence and the day he could finally leave Privet Drive forever. Until he went to Hogwarts, he only marked the day as a milestone in his life. He had to admit, though… presents were nice.
“Well, what are you waiting for?” Hunter asked. “Go on… open it.”
Unwrapping the package carefully, Harry found an assortment of gifts inside. The most noticeable was the inclusion of his Firebolt in the package, as it was the largest item. His eyes lit up with joy and a large grin spread across his face.
“Never thought I’d see this again,” he said happily, examining it thoroughly for potential damage done by the toad, Umbridge.
“There’s a note,” Hunter said, indicating the parchment attached to the handle with a string.
Harry read the note quietly. “It’s from McGonagall,” he said slowly. “She’s returning it to me, along with a notice that my lifetime Quidditch ban has been revoked. I’m back on the team!” he said, letting out a loud whoop.
“Congratulations,” Hunter said. He seemed amused to see the serious young man so giddy. “Perhaps one day you’ll fill me in on all the details. It sounds like a good story.”
Harry fingered the broom fondly. He hadn’t realized how much he had missed it last year. He hadn’t allowed himself to get his hopes up, but now that his ban had been lifted, it was like a huge weight was gone. He felt almost normal for a change.
“What else is in there?” Hunter asked, drawing Harry’s attention back to the rest of the contents of the package.
There was a supply of chocolate frogs from Ron with a cryptic note to check the cards very carefully; a book on prophesies- Debunking the Future- from Hermione; and his usual birthday cake from Mrs. Weasley.
In addition, Ginny had sent him a picture in a sleek, wooden frame of her, Ron, and Hermione smiling and waving to him enthusiastically. He felt himself blush as Ginny coyly blew him a kiss, and laughed when Ron and Hermione rolled their eyes.
He noticed that his two best friends appeared to be standing much closer together than they normally would. Ron’s hand was around Hermione’s shoulders and every once in awhile Hermione would reach up and squeeze the hand that encircled her. There was also a sort of underlying tenderness about the way they were looking at each other that made Harry jealous that they were there together when he was so far away.
He touched the photo image of Ginny longingly and fought the wetness in his eyes that threatened to form. He must have lingered on the picture a bit too long because he noticed Hunter eying him curiously. Harry quickly set the picture and the accompanying letters aside for later, when he had more privacy.
Moving on, he unearthed some of the latest products from Weasley’s Wizard’s Wheezes and a book from several of the members of the Order- including McGonagall, Moody, Remus, and Tonks. The cover was charmed to say Remedial Potions for Dummies, but when opened it became A Comprehensive Guide to the Life of an Auror: a Study in Stealth. Harry thought it was brilliant and chuckled at the inside joke. He briefly wondered if Snape had any input into the gift, but immediately dismissed that notion until he read the note:
Dear Harry,
Happy Birthday! We wanted to get you something to help pass your time while you are away. Professor Snape suggested a textbook on potion-making for imbeciles, but we thought this was more appropriate. Perhaps we’ll get him a self-help book on improving social skills for his birthday. What do you think?
All of us want you to know that our thoughts are with you. One of these days we will throw you a proper birthday celebration. Until then, enjoy the day and hurry home.
Cordially,
The Order of the Phoenix
PS Sirius’ greatest wish was for you to enjoy life. Don’t disappoint him.
Each person had signed their name to the inside cover of the book, but Harry recognized the handwriting of the inscription itself as that of Professor Lupin. He stared at the last part of the short note, trying not to let his grief well up. He didn’t want to spend the day dwelling on Sirius.
Swallowing his sadness for now, he once again dug in the box and was rewarded with a poorly wrapped package. Upon opening it, he discovered it contained a beautiful silver dagger adorned with a replica of a Norwegian Ridgeback breathing fire. The handwriting on the note confirmed it was from Hagrid.
To Harry, it looked very expensive and not like something Hagrid could easily afford. Sure enough, when he read the card he discovered that Hagrid had won it in a card game down at the local pub. He unsheathed the blade and examined it closely. It was very beautifully crafted and obviously very sharp. Carefully placing it back in its sheath, he put it down gently, intending to pack it away in his trunk as soon as possible.
The last items were from Dumbledore. One was a thick envelop addressed to him from the OWL Testing Committee. Harry swallowed hard because he knew it contained his OWL results. He pocketed it, determined to open it later, also.
He also was shocked to discover Dumbledore had sent him Gryffindor’s sword — the very sword he had pulled out of the sorting hat several years before down in the Chamber. As he examined the blade that had helped him defeat Riddle’s basilisk, he wondered curiously why Dumbledore had gone to the trouble of sending it. He saw Stephen’s eyes widen in disbelief as he caught sight of the lettering on the blade and made the connection. He silently handed the older man the blade, and turned to his final present.
It was a small wooden box. Harry fingered it for a moment before opening it. He could feel the magic and power radiating from within the intricately carved wood and knew that its contents contained something extraordinary. He carefully lifted the lid. Nestled inside the velvet lined box was a silver pendent on a soft black leather cord. The charm was of a phoenix - an exact replica of Fawkes - with his wings spread wide. Clutched in his talons was a purplish crystal.
Harry stared at it with uncertainty. He was confused as to why Dumbledore would give him a sword and jewellery for his birthday. It seemed odd and he couldn’t shake the feeling that there was more to this than simply birthday tokens. Dumbledore had never given him anything before. The only gift he had ever received from the headmaster was his Invisibility Cloak, and that had been his father’s.
Harry stared at the pendant apprehensively. He had never really considered himself the sort of bloke who would wear jewellery. That was more Malfoy’s style. Then again, he now sported two bracelets and a tattoo.
The pendant, like the other adornments, was obviously magical and he felt himself drawn to it. As he reached out a tentative hand to touch it, he found his head filled with Phoenix song. An overwhelming sense of peace accosted him and he knew something magical was happening. He slipped it over his head and immediately felt better than he had in a long, long time. His mind was crystal clear and incredibly light.
Stephen eyed the pendant around Harry’s neck appreciatively. He had never seen anything quite like it before. It was exquisitely made and exceptionally detailed. He watched Harry pick up the letter that came with the gift and was surprised to hear him read it aloud.
“Dear Harry,
I hope this letter finds you well and in good health on your 16th birthday. Please forgive me for referring to you in such an informal manner, but I feel we are beyond formalities at this point. I have come to care for you a great deal, and I hope that one day you will feel comfortable enough to call me by my given name, Albus. In fact, I would be honoured if you did so.
The phoenix that is now in your possession is a protective talisman that is intended to assist you in your fight against Voldemort. It is meant to be worn day and night for as long as you live. I have used the strongest magic that I know to make it, and feel confident that it will serve you well.
As you may have guessed, the design is modelled after Fawkes, and he added his own special touch by providing several tears that sealed the magical properties, making it one of the strongest talismans in existence. The amethyst gem stone is notorious for helping defend the wearer from psychic attack. It is also known to promote clarity of mind, can be useful in the relief of insomnia, and helps to bring serenity in times of turmoil.
Please wear it with the knowledge that your welfare is of the utmost importance to me - not as The-Boy-Who-Lived or as the one of whom the prophecy speaks - but as an extraordinary person who I am very privileged to know.
As I am sure you have already seen, I have also included the sword of Gryffindor with your array of presents. You are, no doubt, wondering why. All I can say is that by right, Harry, it is yours. It has been yours since the moment it appeared for you inside the hat. If legend is to be believed, you will find that it will always appear for you if you require it.
Something tells me this sword will be of great use to you in the coming dark days. It is a powerful tool, Mr. Potter. Guard it well.
Stephen is an excellent swordsman and might be persuaded to give you some lessons. Don’t be surprised if you give him a run for his money. The sword was meant for you, and the knowledge on how to wield it is locked inside your mind. It is as much a part of you as your loyalty and nobility and could have chosen no better master.
I realise this life has not been easy for you, Harry, and for that I am very sorry. I wish that things could have been different. However, please remember… strong character is often built on great adversity. Only you can choose what and who you become.
You are never far from my thoughts. Please give my best to Stephen and remind him that my offer still stands.
Yours truly,
Albus Dumbledore”
Harry finished reading and looked up curiously at Hunter. “What offer is Professor Dumbledore talking about?” he asked.
“Albus is always trying to get me to come home,” Hunter said through gritted teeth. “To him, I’m the prodigal son and he’s the ever patient father. He is under the mistaken assumption that one day I will see fit to lay aside my differences and return to Hogwarts with my tail tucked between my legs like a beaten dog,” he scoffed, his voice ripe with anger.
Harry regarded him with a curious expression. “What did Dumbledore do to make you so angry with him?” he wondered aloud. He really didn’t expect a response, but Stephen answered anyway.
“He killed my wife and son, that’s what!” Hunter blurted out in raw fury.
Harry didn’t know what to say. He was speechless. Furthermore, he knew this couldn’t be right. Dumbledore would never…. No. He knew the Headmaster well enough to know this wasn’t the truth.
“You said Voldemort murdered your family,” Harry said slowly, struggling to understand.
Hunter took a deep breath, making an effort to calm his burning temper. It would not do to let his emotions get the better of him. Looking up at the boy whose face was a mixture of concern, understanding, and compassion, he found his anger had softened.
In a strained voice he said, “Yes, Quetzal, I did say that. It’s true… Voldemort did murder my family. But Dumbledore knew things… things that may have warned us, or even stopped him. He chose to keep his secrets and the result was that- that…” His voice faltered, but he continued with effort. “…Mariah and Adam were taken from me forever. For this reason more than any other, I will never forgive him.”
His voice was little more than a whisper, yet to Harry it rang loud and clear. He knew without a doubt that Hunter was telling him the truth, and he also knew it was pointless to press any further. He didn’t think Hunter would tell him anything else, anyway, and for some reason it didn’t feel right to pry for details.
Harry continued to look at him steadily. Instead of speaking, he nodded his head curtly in acknowledgement of Hunter’s feelings, and silently agreed to drop the matter. The relief and gratitude on Hunter’s face was evident.
His shoulders relaxed and when he spoke again his voice had returned to normal. “Even though it’s your birthday, Harry,” he said, “we still have some work to do. I have a few exercises for you to test your Occlumency defences, if you think you’re up to it, and I know you’re itching to try out that sword.”
“Birthday’s are just another day for me,” Harry shrugged. “Until I went to Hogwarts, the only one who ever paid attention to the day was me.”
Hunter looked surprised but did not comment. “I promise not to work you too hard today. The real work will start tomorrow.”
Harry made a face and Hunter laughed. “Sorry, but we’ve wasted too much time as it is. Of course, the new protection that you’ve acquired will make it easier, and I doubt you’ll even need the exercises that I’m planning to show you. They do come in handy, though, especially when you want to calm your mind. A focused mind can make the difference between living and dying in a sticky situation.”
The two agreed to meet back in the courtyard in half an hour, giving Harry time to take his presents to his room. When they met up again, Hunter had HHHHarry’s wand in his hand.
“I don’t think you’ll need it anymore,” he said, handing Harry back his wand, “but as I said last night, there are a few spells that are easier to perform with a wand. We also don’t want any of your enemies to realise that you are able to do magic without one, so I’d feel more comfortable if you still used it when in the presence of others.
“It’s especially important once you return to school that no one knows you can do wandless magic,” he warned. “Voldemort has spies everywhere. I realise I’ve been away for awhile, but I can’t imagine things have changed that much. You are his number one enemy, so I’m told, and he won’t rest until he defeats you.”
Harry looked ready to argue about keeping secrets from his friends, but Hunter held out a hand and stopped him. “Trust me on this, Quetzal,” he said stubbornly. “It’s for the best. I know you’ll do as you please, but I strongly encourage you to keep it on a need to know basis. Even your closest friends could let something slip at the wrong time, and then your secret would be out. Any small advantage it can give you is worth a few secrets. I’m sure your friends want to give you all the advantages you can get.”
Considering the matter closed even though Harry looked ready to protest, Hunter continued. “You’ll find that your spells are more powerful with the combination of your wand and the bands. In addition, you can use both hands to cast spells simultaneously. This will be a huge benefit in a pinch. Tomorrow I’m going to start training you on how to focus and control your magic. You’ll find it’s slightly different than what you’re used to, but once you catch on, it will probably seem more natural and you’ll sometimes forget to use your wand. You’ll also have to learn to control your emotions, because as you may have already experienced with accidental magic, it is easy to let your magic escape when you are angry, upset, or anxious. The more powerful the wizard, the more devastating the results. There are better ways to deal with problems other than bottling up your feelings. Sooner or later you’ll explode, and the outcome can be… disastrous.”
Harry thought of Aunt Marge and nodded his understanding. He probably needed to work on that.
“The first thing I’m going to teach you is how to block your mind to a Legilimens attack.” Harry cringed inwardly, remembering his lessons with Snape.
“Legilimens is a very skilled talent that requires a great amount of control and power to maintain. Messing around with another person’s thoughts is dangerous. There is always the possibility that you may get stuck in the other person’s thoughts. History has told of many unskilled wizards attempting Legilimens on another person, only to be found days or weeks later, completely mad and wandering around in a crazed state of insanity. Experiencing someone else’s thoughts is a tricky business. Sometimes we are not prepared for the things we see. It takes a strong-minded individual to retain one’s own thoughts while probing someone else’s.”
Harry acknowledged his understanding.
“Occlumency is very similar. In order to protect ourselves from mind penetration, we have to have a very strong desire to keep our thoughts to ourselves. Have you ever had any success at all with Occlumency?” he asked.
“Once or twice,” Harry said, hesitantly. He felt his cheeks grow warm with embarrassment.
“Do you remember what triggered the successes?” Hunter asked. “Was there a conscious choice to not let the Legilimens see certain memories?”
“Yes. I remember thinking that the memories were private and refusing to allow Snape to see them.”
Hunter’s lips twisted in a grimace. “That’s the second time I’ve heard the name Snape. Are you referring to Severus Snape, the Death Eater?” he asked. Harry nodded. “Why was he looking into your thoughts?” Hunter asked curiously with no small amount of concern.
“He was supposed to be teaching me Occlumency,” Harry replied sarcastically. “But it didn’t go over so well, probably because he hates me and wants to see me fail.” He said this matter-of-factly because he refused to dwell on his whole horrid past with Snape. It would only make him angry.
“Dumbledore allowed a known Death Eater to teach you Occlumency?” Hunter said incredulously.
“Snape is a teacher at Hogwarts,” Harry shrugged. “…has been for years. He’s my potions professor and a member of the Order. Dumbledore trusts him for some reason, although I have never figured out why.”
“It seems quite a bit has changed in the years I’ve been gone. I spent half my career trying to pin something on that greasy git. Next to Lucius Malfoy, he was one of the slipperiest sods out there.
“I’ll have to think about that one,” Hunter said uncertainly. Obviously, he was still shook by the knowledge that Snape was now a professor and a trusted member of the Order. “For now, I’d like you to think about those times when you were successful. Close your eyes and try to remember what memories preceded your success. Think about your thought process and what you were thinking when you threw your attacker out of your mind.”
Harry nodded his head in agreement and closed his eyes, trying to put himself back in the potions dungeon and those few times when he had been successful at blocking Snape. It wasn’t hard to do. He remembered clearly the times he had been the most successful were when Snape had dug too far and saw things that Harry considered private. Specifically, he remembered the time when he had seen his encounter with Cho. He remembered how angry he had gotten at that intrusion and how he had hexed Snape without meaning to.
“Now tell me about it,” Hunter said.
Harry looked at him, aghast. There was no way he was telling him that.
“I don’t want to hear about the memory itself,” Hunter chuckled. “Just give me some generalities. What was the nature of the memory? What were you thinking?”
“I remember thinking that it was private. I didn’t want him to see it. It was… something between me and the other person. I was angry and I accidentally hexed him.”
Hunter laughed. “One of the disadvantages of the job,” he said. “Bet Snape, the greasy git, loved that! No more than he deserves for all the dirty rotten things he’s done in his life.”
When he had finished laughing and Harry felt a little more at ease, he continued. “Don’t worry. I’ll try not to push so hard at first that you have to resort to hexing me. Occlumency is like a muscle. You have to tone it regularly and build up your resistance. I, myself, might be rusty since I haven’t had to use it for quite some time.
“Just keep that feeling of wanting to protect your thoughts in the front of your mind. You need to want to keep your thoughts private for your defences to have any effect at all. Are you wearing the talisman Dumbledore gave you?”
Harry nodded and pulled the phoenix out to show him.
“Good. Now, raise your wand and prepare for my first attack. Eventually your defences will grow strong enough that you won’t need a wand. You’ll be able to tell when someone is trying to access your mind and block it without the use of your wand or even saying the incantation. I have a feeling that I may have to push harder than I normally would because of all of the extra protection that you have now,” he warned.
“Once you feel me trying to enter your mind, concentrate on the need to keep your thoughts private. Start by forming an imaginary barrier around them. In a sense, you’re building a wall that I can’t get through. The stronger your wall, the better protected you are from my advances. Are you ready?” he asked.
Harry nodded and raised his wand.
“Legilimens!” Stephen cried.
Harry immediately felt the intrusion and tried to do as Hunter had suggested.
He was five and the Dursleys were leaving him locked in his cupboard while they went out to dinner, Dudley in tow. It was his birthday and he felt so alone…
‘That’s private,’ Harry thought angrily. ‘I don’t want you to see that.’ He built the first layer of his wall, trying to block out the magic invading his brain.
He was in the middle of a group of kids. They were taunting him, calling him ‘freak’, and taking turns knocking him down. With each blow he stubbornly refused to give in and continued to rise to his feet, even though he was bleeding. The pain was enormous and all he wanted to do was run away and hide. His glasses were broken and he was crying.
‘You have no business seeing that,’ Harry thought. The next wall was built.
Uncle Vernon was angry. Something strange had happened again. He was being punished. His uncle had him by the ear and was dragging him down the hall. The enormous man was yelling and calling him all sorts of names. Dudley was laughing and Aunt Petunia was smirking with approval. He didn’t understand. Didn’t they know he couldn’t have changed the spinach they were forcing him to eat into carrots? Uncle Vernon raised his hand to hit him.
“I don’t want anyone to see that,’ Harry thought angrily. Another layer was added to the wall.
This continued for a long time until Harry had successfully built a wall high enough to keep Stephen out. He heard the other man mutter the counter charm and opened his eyes in time to see him lower his wand. He had a large smile on his face that did not quite reach his eyes. Harry suspected his teacher was bothered by the things he had seen of his childhood and felt embarrassed, even though he couldn’t help how he had grown up.
“That was excellent, Harry,” he said. “Now that you’ve successfully built your wall, I want you to try to keep it intact. Whenever you have time, focus inward and concentrate on reinforcing the wall. Imagine that you are a mason or an engineer and you are trying to build the strongest wall you can possibly build. Examine it for possible structural problems and imagine yourself fixing them. In time, you will find your defences strengthen as the wall inside your mind gets stronger. Soon you will only need to spend a few moments each day examining the wall and repairing it when necessary in order to maintain its defence.”
Stephen clapped him on the back. “That was a very promising start,” he said proudly.
Harry coloured slightly. “Thanks,” he mumbled. He wondered if Stephen would mention the things that he had seen, but he didn’t.
They continued working for another hour on relaxation techniques and deep breathing. By the end of the session Harry felt very relaxed and at ease with his teacher. Stephen had a knack for teaching that reminded him strongly of Professor Lupin. All in all, it was the best day he’d had in a long while.
“Harry, I hate to ruin the mood, but I need to ask you a favour,” Stephen said seriously as they were preparing to finish for the day.
“Uh… alright,” Harry said uncertainly. He hated to ruin his good mood, even more than Stephen.
“The Chief has asked me to bring you to the palace tonight. He wants to honour you with a banquet and make his intentions for your union with Masaya public.” Harry started to make an angry protest, but Hunter cut him off. “I know your feelings on this matter and I respect your position, but we can’t afford to anger him. After all, we are guests here.”
“I won’t agree to what he wants,” Harry said sharply. “You’re wasting your time if you think I’d agree to something so ridiculous.”
“I never thought you would,” Hunter assured him. “I intend to think of a way to get you out of this gracefully. Just because Techutl wants you to marry his daughter does not mean that you have to do it. Remember who you are, Quetzal. You have more power and authority than even the chief, in the eyes of the Mixtecs. My suggestion to you is to use that to your advantage.”
“Why would I need to?” Harry asked, frowning. “I’m not who they think I am, and I have no right to exercise any authority,” he insisted. “All I want is to defeat Voldemort and come out of this thing alive. I want to live, and I can’t do that as long as he’s around. I have no interest in playing God and I certainly don’t have time for politics or stuck-up princesses who obviously hate me. I’m just a kid.”
“Grow up, Harry,” Hunter said roughly. “Sometimes life is about compromise. You either play the game or you lose.”
Harry’s eyes flashed. Before he could retort, though, Hunter softened his voice and changed tactics. “Look. I’m not asking you to marry the girl, for Merlin’s sake! Just come with me and act gracious. Eat dinner, keep your mouth shut, and be respectful. If the subject comes up, we’ll find a courteous way to decline. It would go a long way in furthering our cause and ensuring the cooperation of the people of this island. I know it’s your birthday, but could you please do this for me?”
“All right,” Harry sighed reluctantly. “What should I wear?”
Hunter looked relieved. This would all be much easier with Harry’s cooperation. “I’ll have Chuen lay something appropriate out for you.”
“Is there anything else you want to do today?” Harry asked.
“Not really, no,” Hunter said. “I had planned on a longer session, but your defences were so good that you succeeded in blocking me out much quicker than I thought you would. Why do you ask?”
“Would it be all right if I took my Firebolt out for a quick fly?” Harry said hopefully. “I haven’t flown in ages and I… I really missed it.”
Hunter smiled understandingly. “Of course it’s all right. Just be back in a few hours so that you can get ready for the banquet.” Harry turned and excitedly started to his room to retrieve his broom.
“Try not to fly too close to the village,” Hunter called after him, amused at the boy’s enthusiasm. “The natives have never seen a Firebolt - or any other broom - in action, and you might give them a right fright. Flying is not something they do much of around here.”
Harry barely heard the warning. The only thought on his mind was how quickly he could get in the air and how long he would have until dinner.
***
Harry thoroughly enjoyed his time in the air. He flew around the island feeling more care-free than he had in ages. His Firebolt performed even better than he remembered and he rigorously put it through its paces. He flew loops, did steep dives, rolled, and skimmed the Ocean. When he grew bored of performing stunts, he just soared lazily through the clouds and hovered over the city, drinking in the sunshine and the warm summer breeze.
As he hovered, he pulled out the letters from his friends. They didn’t offer much information but were comforting all the same. He read each one twice and made a mental note to himself to write back as soon as he got the time. All in all, it was one of the best birthdays he could ever remember having.
When he finally returned to Stephen’s house, he felt tired but refreshed. The thought of spending an evening in the company of strangers didn’t bother him as much now. He would have preferred to explore the island some more, but he knew he had time for that later. There really wasn’t much to do in his spare time - not that he’d had much of it in the few days he’d been here, anyway.
He washed up and dressed quickly in the outfit Chuen had laid out for him, slipping on his familiar sandals for the finishing touch. The outfit was slightly more informal than he was used to, but it reminded him of wizard’s robes rather than the native dress of the people of Tlilli Tlapalla, which was very skimpy in nature.
It was very similar to the outfits he had been wearing - loose and flowing with trousers underneath - but with several major differences. It was almost entirely white (except for the green embroidery along the edges), very revealing, and was made of fine silk. The tunic covered most of his body and fell below his knees, but was cut very low with a slit in the front that came down almost to his navel. This left his chest partly exposed so that the snake tattoo could be seen. The sleeves of the robes were also cut so that the bands around his wrists couldn’t be hidden.
Feeling very exposed, Harry had an urge to pull out his Hogwarts robes and wear those instead. If it wasn’t so bloody hot he’d do it, too. He wasn’t comfortable showing this much of his body — especially in front of a bunch of strangers. His exposed chest was hairless and very pale. If only he was a bit browner in that area, maybe he’d feel more comfortable.
He blinked. Was it his imagination, or was his chest darkening to match the rest of his skin? In shock, he moved to the mirror that had been placed in his room for a closer look. It was true. His skin was much darker under the white tunic.
He surveyed himself critically. Trying to be objective, he had to admit the island was having a good effect on him. His skin was beginning to brown nicely and, when offset by the white of his robes, the effect was better than he had hoped. His cheeks even held a healthy glow from the wind, and he was pleased to note that the circles were beginning to disappear from beneath his eyes.
But the biggest difference, if he was honest with himself, was deeper than mere looks. He hadn’t realised how stressed and sleep deprived he’d been recently until he saw himself as he was now. For the first time in a good long while he felt somewhat relaxed and well rested. His eyes were beginning to lose the haunted look he’d grown accustomed to, and his features weren’t as tight and pinched as they had been.
Although he wasn’t thrilled with the cut of the robes, the main thing was they were not uncomfortable and they fit well. Beyond that, he supposed, he really didn’t care what they looked like; as long as they didn’t have ruffles and look anything like Ron’s old dress robes, he was content. Besides, he guessed he’d be more covered than anyone else at the banquet except, perhaps, Stephen. The men of the island tended to wear skimpy clothes, from what he had seen.
He met Stephen in the courtyard outside his room. His teacher was dressed similarly, except his robes were black and not as open in the front. The sight put him more at ease with his own outfit, but he still wished it covered more of him in the front. He expressed as much to Stephen as they walked, who regarded him seriously.
“I’m sorry about that,” he said sincerely. “I had Chuen modify them slightly for a reason. I want that marking exposed tonight. It will go a long way in furthering our cause. I know it’s a bit of pressure…”
“Quite,” Harry agreed.
“-but it is necessary. You are the Chosen One, and the people of this island must see that. Like it or not, you have power and authority because of who and what you are. Techutl can be very pushy and demanding when he wants to be. We’re trying to make a point here, remember. Techutl can’t force his daughter on you if you do not wish it.
“We don’t want to insult him, though,” he warned him. “He is a very powerful man in his own right. But there are ways to do this where everyone wins. We must remember to tread carefully. It’s not proper form to anger any chief, much less this one.”
“I get the point,” Harry conceded. “No losing my temper, keep my mouth shut as much as possible, and let you do the talking.”
“That’s it exactly,” he said, glad that Harry was bright enough to catch on.
“Which reminds me,” he said, stopping abruptly. “I came across a very useful spell a few years ago that I think might help you. It’s a language spell. It was designed for ambassadors to use when visiting foreign countries.”
He raised his hand to Harry’s ear and muttered a spell. Harry felt a tickling sensation and a warmth that seemed to spread through his whole head and escape through his mouth.
“What’d you do?” he asked.
“You’ll find it much easier to understand what’s going on,” Hunter assured him mysteriously as they continued on, Harry wiggling a finger in his still tickling ear.
Indeed, as he passed the local merchants and villagers, he began to catch snippets of conversations. Even though the people were speaking in their native tongue, he realised with a start that he understood it. Marvelling at the ordinary conversations around him, he looked back at Stephen in wonder.
“Th-that’s amazing…” he stammered.
“You’ll find that it works the same with speech too,” Hunter said smugly. “Basically I just taught you Nahutl in less than two seconds. What I know about the language, you now know.”
“If it that easy, why doesn’t everyone do it like that?” Harry asked curiously, struggling to keep up.
Hunter shrugged. “It’s only temporary. That and it’s fairly invasive. Some people don’t like the feeling.”
“Yeah? No kidding,” Harry muttered grumpily, still jiggling his ear. The strange feeling had not left his head yet, and it had him sufficiently distracted until they reached their destination.
The palace was very impressive. It was similar in style to the surrounding buildings and houses but much larger and grander. The pair walked up the long, steep stairs that rivalled those of the temple. Two guards stood on either side of the door. Each wore an elaborate mask decorated with feathers and colourful paint. The guards were massive - tall, bulky, and very intimidating.
They snapped to attention upon seeing the pair. While Harry was recovering from the shock and surprise, Hunter paused at the threshold. Harry followed suit, looking around curiously. The inside of the palace was beautiful. Smooth stone walls and floors were covered with rich carpets and tapestries. Ornamental art and paintings adorned the walls and flowers were everywhere. It wasn’t what he would call European in style, but was very alluring and by far the grandest building he had been in yet.
A servant approached and led them into a large banquet area where massive tables were set. Smaller tables behind the larger table were laden with food. Harry could see all sorts of vegetable dishes, fruits, meats, soups and breads. Wax candles and torches, as well as fairies scattered among the flower arrangements, lighted the room brightly, giving off a pleasant and inviting atmosphere.
It seemed they were the last to arrive. About a hundred native witches and wizards of various ages already milled about in the spacious room. Every eye turned to them as a hush fell across the crowd.
Stephen whispered to Harry as the people’s conversations died on their lips. “Keep in mind what we talked about Quetzal,” he said encouragingly. “Remember who you are and act like it. Show them you are not a child. Stand tall. You are a force to be reckoned with, Harry, whether you know it or not.”
Harry wished he had the older man’s confidence. He certainly didn’t feel like he was a force to be reckoned with - not in the least. But he straightened up and tried to mimic Hunter’s formal and commanding presence. Inside, he could feel Ginny’s confidence in him, and he felt significantly better. She was sending him warm thoughts and he sent them back eagerly. How could she know he needed her, so far away?
The crowd parted and Techutl approached them. With him were Chac, Masaya, and a regal-looking woman Harry had not yet met. All were dressed in fine clothes of rich silk that corresponded to their station as the ruling family. Masaya, in particular, looked especially beautiful. Her dark hair was piled high on top of her head and she was bedecked with golden jewellery from head to toe. She looked very pretty, except for the haughty mannerisms she was prone to show.
Abandoning his purpose, Techutl stopped abruptly and stared at Harry’s chest, his eyes wide with surprise.
Harry was vaguely aware of others in the room murmuring excitedly in low voices, their fingers pointing at him as they conversed in low tones with each other. He knew he shouldn’t let it bother him, but it did. He hated being the centre of everyone’s attention. Even though he’d had plenty of practice back home, it was never easy to be the one everyone was staring at and talking about.
He dealt with it the same way he always dealt with it, however. He schooled his facial features to look as disinterested as possible and not give away the fact that all he wanted to do was to turn around and run out the door.
He heard Tecuhtl whisper to Stephen in a quiet voice. “Is this what I think it is?” he asked reverently, not taking his eyes off the green tattoo in the centre of Harry’s chest. He didn’t yet realise that Harry could understand him.
“Yes,” Hunter affirmed in Nahutl. “It has come to pass. Legend walks among you. Your Quetzalcoatl has indeed returned. May I present to you once again, Mr. Harry James Potter?” Hunter gestured to Harry with a small bow and a flourish of his hand.
Tecuhtl was still in shock, however, and was not so quick to return to trivial conversation. “Xolotl, are you aware of what this means?” he asked pointing a shaky finger at the tattoo peaking out from Harry’s tunic.
“Yes, Your Highness,” Hunter said respectfully, keeping his voice low in deference. “It is the Wind Jewel. My young charge was given it last night. He paid a visit to the Temple of the Morning Star, and the Ancient Ones awoke. They gave him the gift of ehecailacozcatl and all that it entails.”
“So it is true after all….” The chief continued to stare, making Harry extremely uncomfortable. He tried to remember Hunter’s advice and stay as still and quiet as possible, letting the older man do all the talking.
“He was also gifted with the knowledge of his destiny,” Hunter continued, “and was given the bands of power you see around his wrists. He accepted these gifts and all that comes with them,” Stephen told the old chief gravely, “and the Temple spoke for all to see the truth of the return of the Plumed Serpent, the defender of humanity.” His voice was just loud enough for the entire room to hear.
Now, however, he raised his voice so that it rang out loud and clear. “Your Prince asks for your help in the coming battle. Even though he has already wielded the sword and faced the enemy on numerous occasions, he still has much to learn and even more to accomplish. Time grows short. Tezcatlipoca is growing more cunning and powerful every day. He is gathering followers, and the Light is wavering. Our time is near. Will you stand with him, or reject him as you did in the past?” Hunter’s steely blue eyes swept the room and seemed to linger on each individual.
Voices rang out, echoing off the stone walls. The resounding response was affirmative.
“Please tell Our Prince,” the old leader said in the same commanding tone he had used to calm the spectators at the ballgame the night Harry had arrived, “that my people’s allegiance is, and always has been, with mighty Quetzalcoatl. If he truly is Our Prince, he has the support of the people of Tlilli Tlapalla, even unto death.” The King bowed low to Harry, who didn’t know what he was supposed to do.
He looked towards Stephen for help.
Stephen sent him a silent communication to ‘get on with it’ and, from somewhere in the back recesses of his mind, he suddenly knew what needed said.
In a clear voice that was not quite his own, he spoke his first words in the ancient Nahutl language. “I am honoured and grateful for your generosity,” he said sincerely, bowing back to the chief. The old man looked both surprised and pleased.
Stephen looked at Harry curiously as they began to exchange small talk with Techutl and his family, but he was as clueless about his odd behaviour as his mentor. In truth, he had not known from where those words had come. They seemed to have formed deep in his soul. He couldn’t explain it.
Harry was so busy contemplating the matter that he almost missed it when Techutl formally introduced his wife, Xian; eldest son, Chac; and eldest daughter, Masaya. He nodded his head at the others, but did not bow.
He and Masaya exchanged a significant, chilly look but did not address each other directly. However, she did seem uncharacteristically demure and docile in the presence of her father and mother. Still an ice princess, but more compliant. She was definitely playing her role as the chief’s daughter.
Tecuhtl indicated with a thunderous clap of his hands that it was time to begin the feast. Harry was given the place of honour at the table - the one at the head of the table that was usually occupied by the chief.
Stephen was placed on Harry’s right and Techutl sat on his left. Everyone else gathered at the table and began filling up the rest of the seats. The tables were very low to the ground and there were no chairs; just pillows and cushions on the stone floor. Harry had to sit cross-legged in order to feel comfortable and keep himself upright without slouching, which he suspected was bad form for this sort of formal meal, especially when he was the guest of honour.
He noticed, rather uneasily, that Masaya moved behind him once they sat at the table. Instead of sitting down, however, she stood stiffly. In fact, he noticed all of the women at the table standing behind the men who sat at the table. This puzzled him, but he did not voice his confusion. Everyone else seemed to take this as normal custom and paid it no mind.
A bell was struck by a servant to signal the start of the meal and the females moved to the side of their companions and began filling their plates full of food. None of the men lifted a finger to serve themselves. Harry felt very odd about this. He had never been served before in his life - except by House Elves at Hogwarts - and even then he rarely saw them unless he snuck into the kitchens.
Somehow, this seemed much… worse. He shuddered to think what Hermione would have to say about this custom. She’d probably begin working up a campaign to liberate the women of Tlilli Tlapalla from oppression. He didn’t think he’d go that far, but to him it just didn’t feel right that he got to sit while the women served. He looked over at Stephen, who seemed to be reading his mind. The older man, sent him a look that clearly said, ‘let it go’ and ‘don’t make waves, tonight, Quetzal’. He swallowed his feelings on the matter and complied, all the while feeling extremely guilty and disloyal to one of his best friends.
It was probably these conflicted feelings that caused him to say ‘thank you’ and offer other words of gratitude every time Masaya filled his glass or placed some new delectable treat in front of him which he was too nervous to eat. No one else seemed to bother, and it earned him many curious looks from the other men seated at the table. Everyone but Stephen, that is.
Whenever Harry looked over, his teacher’s eyes were laughing and struggling to hide a smile. Stephen was so subtle about it, though, that one had to be looking properly in order to see it. Unfortunately, Harry was looking and saw the mirthful humour, which only stirred up feelings of annoyance and intensified his nervousness.
On one occasion, he was so anxious his magic accidentally escaped and the water goblet Masaya was attempting to hand him suddenly burst into tiny granules of powder. The water inside had mysteriously evaporated into the air as if it had never been there. Everyone at the table looked at him, startled. Harry wanted to hide under the table, but Hunter covered for him by making a joke and diverting attention away from his young charge.
Masaya was performing her duty admirably, considering how much she had seemed to dislike Harry when they had met the day before. She did seem rather put out with all of his words of gratitude, however. Every once in awhile Harry sensed that she wanted to say something, but held back.
Even though he was very uncomfortable, Harry had to admit that the food was excellent. He had missed dinner last night and flown right through lunch.
He was just finishing his meal when a commotion outside the banquet hall drew everyone’s attention. Shouting and cursing could be heard, and the clang of spells reverberated off the stone walls.
With a loud bang the heavy wooden door flew open. In strode Tlaloc and a group of warriors, all clad in warrior garb with spears, bows, and swords held fast to their bodies. Harry and Stephen both jumped up and drew their wands. Techutl, however, did not rise. He looked at the warriors disdainfully but calmly.
“Why have you dared to interrupt us?” he said angrily, raising his voice an octave. He slowly rose to his feet, his expression inspiring fear in all but Tlaloc, Hunter, and Harry. “Your presence at this feast is not required.” The silence in the room made his voice sound deafening.
“I have come to claim my reward,” Tlaloc said proudly. His voice seemed to echo.
“You are a fool, Tlaloc,” Techutl said. He spat the words out of his mouth as if they were offensive to him. “Your request has already been denied.”
Harry could see Masaya out of the corner of his eye. She seemed to be holding her breath, not taking her eyes off of the well-built warrior. Her expression was one of deep concern and… love? It reminded Harry strongly of Ginny.
“I won the ballgame,” Tlaloc said. “I spared the life of your son, Chac. You offered me a reward, Techutl, and now I intend to claim it.” Tlaloc’s cold brown eyes surveyed the room of elders and noblemen, most of whom comprised the ruling Council. They came to rest on Masaya, who met his gaze steadfastly. “Our laws demand it,” he said staunchly.
“I refused to give you that,” Techutl said leaving no room for discussion.
“Then I challenge the one who has that honour,” Tlaloc said, turning his cold gaze on Harry who was standing at the ready beside Stephen, his wand drawn.
“He does not accept,” Stephen said curtly. He was not playing and Harry could feel the tension in the room intensify. “He granted you a second chance already, Tlaloc. Why do you dishonour him in this way?”
“Is he such a child that he can not speak for himself?” Tlaloc said, his mouth twisting in a sneer. “He screams in fits like a toddler. I have seen it with my own eyes. Our great Quetzalcoatl is nothing more than a baby!”
“I’m not a child,” Harry shouted, “and I can speak for myself! You have no idea what you are talking about!”
Hunter shot Harry a warning look, but he was too angry to take notice.
“Ah…” Tlaloc said condescendingly. “Our Prince does have a tongue!” This earned him a laugh from his companions. The anger was bubbling now. For the first time in two days, Harry felt the snake stir to life.
“Tell me, Great Quetzalcoatl from the East!” Tlaloc yelled. “What tricks do you have up your sleeve? What will you promise my people to have them follow you, only to kill them slowly like the European scum that came before you?”
“I don’t have any tricks up my sleeve,” Harry said angrily. “I’m not sure what you want from me, but my only purpose for being here at all is to get stronger so that I can defeat Voldemort.” Upon seeing Tlaloc’s blank look, he corrected himself. “The person you call Tezcatoplica.”
There was a collective gasp from the crowd, much like he was used to getting when he said Voldemort’s name at home. Apparently, this society wasn’t so different from his own.
Tlaloc spat on the ground. “The troubles of white people and outsiders are no concern of ours!”
“But they are, Tlaloc,” Techutl said impatiently, as if speaking to a disobedient child. “We are all part of this Earth. The Gods are battling once again for control, and if the Light does not win, our planet will be plunged into Darkness. It was foreseen that this boy who stands before you will decide our fate.”
“If this puny boy is the defender of mankind, then he should have no trouble besting me on the ball court!” Tlaloc challenged stubbornly.
Harry opened his mouth to protest, but Stephen beat him to it. “He has only just begun his training,” he said angrily to Tlaloc. “He is not ready to face Tezcatlipoca, any more than he is ready to face you!”
Tecuhtl raised his hand for silence as the hall erupted in loud shouts. When the murmur had died, he spoke. “I have made my decision.” He looked at Tlaloc with contempt. “At the end of the calendar One Reed, Quetzalcoatl, otherwise known as Harry James Potter, will face Warrior Tlaloc in a battle to the death on the playing field. I have decided to allow Tlaloc’s request. It has been foreseen, and it shall be done.” Techutl clapped his hands loudly and the sound resonated over the quiet room like thunder. Both Harry and Stephen looked at Techutl as if he had gone mad.
Tlaloc shot Harry a satisfied but spine-tingling look and departed the hall with his fellow Warriors. Harry was left looking at Stephen helplessly, hoping that he had misunderstood.
Stephen was looking at Techutl with a dumbfounded and betrayed expression frozen on his face. But his eyes burned with fire. “What was that?” he raged at the chief, eliciting a collective gasp from the crowd at his lack of protocol. Hunter’s magic was growing with his anger and a faint blue glow could be seen around the bands on his wrists. “You have no idea what you have just done!”
“I know very well what I have done,” Tecuhtl said with a smug, self-confident smile. He turned around and sat down at the table, motioning to the others in the room that they should follow his example. Stephen remained where he was and indicated that Harry should do the same.
“He is not ready,” Stephen insisted. “He is not strong enough.” His fists balled with frustration and Harry was afraid he might blow the roof off the palace. He had never guessed Stephen had such a temper.
“He will be ready,” Techutl said, helping himself to the fruit that had been placed before him. Behind him, Masaya was crying softly; she seemed as if she very much wanted to run after Tlaloc. Chac was trying to comfort her. Their father paid them no mind, however.
“Your Highness-” Stephen started to protest before he was cut off rudely by the chief.
“He will be ready,” Techutl said with such finality that there was no question the subject was closed for discussion. “If he cannot win, then we will not support your cause, Xolotl, and our deal is off. When we follow this boy into battle, the people must be convinced beyond a shadow of a doubt that he is truly the One. He must fight Tlaloc and win.”
Hunter sighed, knowing that argument was futile. “Then we must prepare,” he said sharply, turning on his heel and stalking out. As he strode away he sent his built up magic towards the heavy wooden doors that slammed open and splintered as they passed. Harry, who was much shorter than Hunter, struggled to match his angry long strides.
“Tomorrow, Quetzal…” Hunter muttered as they fled the castle and hurried along the busy streets towards home. “…Tomorrow we start your training in earnest. Unfortunately, the stakes have just been raised.”
Harry followed Stephen home, his sombre expression hiding a multitude of emotions, none of which were good.
[A/N: Thanks to everyone who has reviewed and taken the time to send such encouraging emails. Thanks also to Arnel who beta read this chapter and Melindaleo for lending me her advice when she should be writing on her own story. Also, a big thanks to Max for helping me with the pronunciations. I hope they are more accurate now.]
Pronunciation guide (but please don’t take this as gospel, it’s just my best guess)
Xolotl: She-o-LO-tl
Quetzal: ket-SAL
Quetzalcoatl: ket-sal-CO-atl
Tezcatlipoca: tez-ca-tli-PO-ca
Tlilli Tlapalla: t-lil-li tla-pa-la
Tecuhtl: te-COO-tl
Masaya: ma-SA-ya
Tlaloc: TLA-lock
Chac: ch-ock
Chuen: chew-en
Popol Vuh: po-pol VOO
Mixtec: mix-TE-ca
Xian: she-I-an
Ehecailacozcatl: e-e-kai-la-KOS-katl
Chapter 7: Ginny's Delimma
The Shadow of the SerpentChapter Six: Ginny’s Dilemma
The next week went by in a blur for Harry. Nothing more was said on the topic of the challenge, and every time Harry brought it up, Hunter barked that he needed to focus on his training and let him worry about the details. It would all work out, he assured Harry.
Harry did not accept this but neither did he push for answers. Part of him didn’t really want to know; if he knew the details, he’d have that much more to worry about. He preferred to not think at all, and so threw himself into his tedious training schedule.
He and Hunter rose every morning and began training before the sun was even awake. Mornings were devoted to perfecting his Occlumency. Then they ate a quick breakfast prepared by Chuen, and started in again until lunchtime working on practicing wandless magic with his new bands. He learned that if he imitated the wand movements with his hands while saying the same incantations, he would get very similar results.
After lunch, Harry was allowed to rest for a few hours. He usually fell asleep as soon as his head hit his pillow, but he always made sure to reinforce the wall in his mind before totally dropping off. Usually, he slept peacefully. Once or twice he and Ginny were able to connect briefly, but he was so tired it didn’t last long. He suspected that his wall was having an effect on the dreamwalking and that thought saddened him. He enjoyed his time with Ginny when it was just the two of them. It made the time on the island so much more tolerable.
After his afternoon rest, he and Hunter met up again in the library and the spent a few hours going over new spells. Harry was amazed at the number of books Hunter possessed on Defence Against the Dark Arts. He even had quite a collection of books devoted to the Dark Arts which gave Harry pause. When he questioned Hunter about this, he only shrugged and said that one shouldn’t be afraid of knowledge. How people use what they know is the thing that defines the person. Considering Hogwarts had a whole section of restricted books, Harry couldn’t fault his logic.
In addition to the study of new spells, Hunter also required him to study other sorts of material including history, philosophy, psychology, and literature. Harry didn’t particularly enjoy this part of his training. He didn’t understand how this would help him against Tlaloc or Voldemort, but his complaints were quickly squelched by his mentor. Hunter insisted that he would soon see the connection and, even if he continually dozed off while reading the assigned material, he would benefit from the information one day. He promised Harry that he would find it useful in the most unlikely circumstances. So each afternoon Harry trudged through the day’s assigned materials.
When he was finished reading, he and Hunter would spend about an hour or so discussing his readings. That was the part Harry liked best. His friend had a way of explaining things that made even the most complicated things make sense. Hunter even allowed him the luxury of admitting that he didn’t understand, and then went on to break the material down into smaller parts so that it all made sense. Harry was constantly surprised by Hunter’s ability to make even the most boring history sound exciting. Despite his initial doubts, he was beginning to see the world in a whole new way. He knew Hermione, for one, would be ecstatic about the change - although he doubted she would approve of the fact that he hadn’t even touched his homework yet.
After the majority of the summer heat dissipated, they returned to the courtyard and began the practical application of his training. They practiced new spells and spent some time going over the basics of the ballgame.
Harry found the rules of the game easy enough to understand. It was quite simple, really. The main thing was to keep the ball in the air and not get hit by spells, while doing as much damage to one’s opponent as possible. Harry found it very much like duelling - with the added addition of the ball. The point was to get the ball through the hoop and win the game. This wasn’t as easy as it sounded because each player was constantly blocking the other’s attempts, and Harry still wasn’t used to not using his wand. When Harry learned as much as he could in the garden, they went to the stadium in the middle of the village to practice.
Hunter proved quite good at the game, and Harry had to keep on his toes just to keep up with him. But it wasn’t long before he got the hang of things, and pretty soon he was consistently blocking Hunter’s attempts to score and getting more balls in the hoop than his mentor. It was at this point that Hunter introduced a new element into the game -Chac.
Tecuhtl’s oldest son was a natural athlete. The older boy moved with a grace that Harry knew he could never hope to attain. But what he lacked in grace, he made up for in creativity. Harry found his shorter stature and natural speed were assets in this game. He could dodge spells quickly, and his opponent tended to underestimate him because of his smaller size.
He used his knowledge of Quidditch and duelling to his advantage too. The natives were used to playing the game a certain way. Harry, who had not grown up watching the ballgame, had a fresh perspective and tended to surprise Chac with his unusual approach. This resulted in Chac having a growing respect for the dark-haired youth with the fire from heaven emblazoned on his forehead.
Harry, too, began to look forward to his matches with Chac. The other boy had been very reserved around him at first. After their first few matches where Harry had gotten in a few good hits and avoided some especially nasty hexes, he started to sense a change in Chac. The native boy began to smile more in Harry’s presence, and on several occasions - when Harry pulled off a rather impressive round of curses that resulted in a score - he even caught him laughing in delight.
This confused Harry, who thought Chac should be angry that he was getting in some good hits. He finally confronted him about it. Chac was picking himself off the ground after having been hit by the Twitchy Ears Hex, and shaking his head in amusement as he performed the counter curse. Harry could hear him chuckling under his breath.
“What’s so funny?” he asked, his voice betraying his edginess.
Chac stopped laughing. “Forgive me, my Prince,” he said, bowing. “It angers you that I laugh.”
“I’m not angry,” Harry answered in annoyance, irritated at the formalities. “I just want to know what’s so funny, that’s all. Why are you laughing at me?”
Chac answered respectfully with his eyes downcast, as if he were ashamed of himself. “I am laughing at myself,” he explained. “You’re choices… they surprise me, Great One, and I can’t help but wonder why I did not think to do something so simple. You have natural talent for this game. It is so unexpected coming from one of so young but not so unexpected coming from a person of your station. There is much I can learn from you, my Prince.”
Harry stared at him. “Please… stop calling me that. My name is Harry,” he said stubbornly. He thought about just dropping the whole matter but changed his mind. “What do you mean by unexpected? You’re beating me every time,” he pointed out, hoping that his voice had lost some of its edge. He really wanted to make friends with Chac. Hunter was fine for company most days, but he missed having someone his own age to talk to.
Chac looked up. “May I talk freely, Harry?” he asked.
“Of course,” Harry said.
“Most young warriors will choose the most powerful and damaging spells first,” he explained, walking towards Harry. “But you choose tickling and enlargement spells to throw your opponent off guard so that you can score. Your focus is clearly on the goal and not on your opponent. It takes many years for some to learn this. You, who supposedly have never seen the ballgame before your arrival, have discovered this right away. That is the sign of a great warrior. Your focus is on the goal, not the obstacles in your way.”
“I never thought much about it before,” Harry said, shaking his head and running a hand through his damp hair. Sweat was trickling down his nose and making his glasses slide. He took them off and wiped his face with a towel that Chac graciously handed him.
“I use the spells I am most comfortable using. What other spells do others use?” he asked curiously.
“Some prefer the Bludgeoning spell. Others like to slice their opponent with a Cutting spell.” Chac shrugged. “It makes no difference. The goal is usually on revenge, not the game.”
“But it is just a game,” Harry stated, confused. “It’s not much different than Quidditch. The goal is to get the ball through the hoop and to block your opponent’s attempts to score.”
“I know nothing about your tribe’s game,” Chac said, “but from what Xolotl tells me, your Quid-itch is like child’s play compared to the ballgame.”
“Hang on,” Harry said indignantly. “Quidditch happens to be a very intense and brutal sport!”
“But does the winning team decide the fate of the losing team in your game?” Chac asked pointedly.
“No. They don’t,” Harry conceded reluctantly.
“What does the champion obtain by winning? What is the incentive to triumph over one’s opponent?” he asked.
Harry hesitated. “Well… they compete to win the Quidditch Cup.”
Chac look confused. “This cup… it is valuable?”
“No. Not really,” Harry said, trying not to flush with embarrassment. Now that he thought about it, it did sound very stupid. “It’s not made of gold or anything, but to us, it is valuable. It’s more like an honour. You know… to let everyone know who the best team was that year.”
“And it’s important to know which is the better team?” the native asked curiously.
“Yes,” Harry answered, “to us, it is.” He was finding this intense questioning unnerving. “You see, our school is divided into four houses — sort of what you might call tribes within a tribe. We all belong together, but we compete against one another all year long. At the end of the term, whoever has the most points wins the House Cup. It’s important to win because it means we are better than everyone else.”
“That is a strange custom,” Chac said, shaking his head. “What is the point of competing if your games are not matters of life and death? If one’s life is not in jeopardy, how does anyone know who is truly the winner? Humans tend to give more effort when the consequences are high.”
This statement brought up a good point — one that he had avoided thinking about. He tried to keep the nervousness out of his voice as he spoke, but it wobbled anyway. “Just h-how seriously should I take this ‘fight to the death’ thing, anyway?” he asked in what he hoped was a nonchalant voice.
“Any threat of death is taken very seriously in my world,” Chac answered. “Warriors may die in battle, so they must also face death on the ball field. The games prepare men to make hard choices. That way, when the time comes they will not hesitate to do what needs to be done.”
“So how does it work? Do we have to fight each other till…,” Harry gulped, “till one of us is… killed?”
“No. A fight to the death does not necessarily mean someone has to die. The choice lies with the winner. As in life, the champion is the one to decide the fate of his opponent.”
“And if he chooses death, then how… how is it done?” Harry asked around the lump that formed in his throat.
“He is sacrificed to the Gods,” Chac said matter-of-factly.
“How, exactly, is he sacrificed?” Harry asked. He wasn’t sure he really wanted to know, but he needed to understand what could happen.
“He is taken to the temple and his throat is slit by the winner,” Chac said as dispassionately as before.
“But… but that’s… barbaric!” he stammered. “Why doesn’t your father put a stop to it?”
Chac looked stricken. “My father keeps the traditions of our ancestors,” he said proudly. “The ballgame is a sacred ceremony played for the benefit of the Gods. The dishonour of losing is balanced by this honourable death. It pleases the Gods.”
Harry snorted. “You people think I’m a god,” he said sarcastically.
“If you are Plumed Serpent, you can not lose,” was the reply.
Harry didn’t hear anymore. He walked away in a stupor wondering what in the bloody hell Hunter was thinking letting him compete in a competition such as this.
***
Hunter was reading up on Harry’s runes when he found him. Really, the library was the first place he looked. Harry was getting to know Hunter’s routines quite well, and Hunter’s favourite pastime was research.
He tore open the door and stalked inside. “I thought you said you were here to protect me!” he said, his eyes blazing.
“Harry!” he said, startled out of looking up from his books. “What’s wrong?”
“Tell me Hunter,” Harry said through gritted teeth. “Tell me about fate- specifically mine, if I lose this match I’ve been forced into with Warrior Prat.”
“Oh,” Hunter said.
“Oh? That’s all you have to say? Oh?” Harry yelled, really livid now. Thankfully the wall in his head was holding and he didn’t feel Voldemort trying to worm his way in.
“Harry, calm down,” he said. “It’s not that bad, really. That whole fate thing is just a formality. No one has actually fated their opponent to death in centuries.”
“Hmmfff,” he exhaled, feeling very much like a deflated balloon. He hadn’t even realized he was holding his breath. “But-but they could, right?” he asked lamely.
“Well, yes… technically,” Hunter admitted. Harry was about to start yelling again, but Hunter cut him off. “I promise you, it won’t happen. Even if you lose, you will do so honourably. The guidelines are there mainly for troublemakers and those that cheat. If someone is caught cheating, the cheater is put to death immediately by the hand of the opponent.”
“But that didn’t happen the other night, did it?” Harry said sharply. “The chief asked Tlaloc about Chac’s fate.”
Hunter waved him off. “That was a whole different thing,” he said, but he looked very uncomfortable.
“How, exactly?”
“Well, that was the championship game,” Hunter said calmly. “That only happens during the championship. The Mixtec athletes are very fierce and passionate people. The two best warriors used to fight out their differences on the battlefield. This sometimes resulted in innocent casualties and unnecessary wars, so a long time ago they came up with this solution. Now they fight it out on the ballfield and the winner decides the loser’s fate.”
“Tecuhtl said this would be a fight to the death. Could I die?” Harry pressed.
“Even Tlaloc would not fate you to death,” Hunter said dismissively. He turned his back on Harry and started reshelving books. When he spoke again, he did so with his back still turned so that Harry couldn’t see his face. It was possible, however, to discern a level of uncertainty in the older man’s voice, which immediately put him on edge again.
“He wants to discredit you, but I really don’t think he wants you dead.”
“You don’t think he wants me dead?” Harry yelled. “This is my life we’re talking about here, Hunter! I need a little more guarantee than that! People back home are counting on me. I can’t afford to snuff it on this bloody island at the hand of some bloody native with a bloody jealousy complex! Can’t you just tell the bloke he can have the ice princess, with my blessing?”
“I’m afraid it’s not that simple, Harry,” Hunter sighed tiredly. He returned to his desk and sat down. For some reason, the image of Dumbledore came to Harry’s mind. He had seen that same tired look on his headmaster’s face recently.
“Then why don’t you explain it to me?” Harry said more calmly, sitting down also.
Hunter sighed wearily. Harry briefly wondered how much sleep Hunter was actually getting at night. “Tlaloc is used to being the top dog around here, Harry. Tecuhtl doesn’t want Masaya to marry Tlaloc because then Tlaloc would be that much closer to the throne. Tlaloc is a very proud young man. I don’t think he’s evil, but he is very ambitious. He wants to rule one day, and he sees Tecuhtl’s family as a means to an end. He may love Masaya and she may love him, but really it all comes down to power. Who has it and who wants it.”
“So… he sees me as a threat,” Harry said, understanding. “He thinks that I want to rule and that I’m worming my way into taking over, and that ticks him off because I am a foreigner.”
“Right,” Hunter said grimly. “To Tlaloc, this is about more than who gets the girl. Tecuhtl was afraid the other night that Tlaloc would fate Chac and have him killed. He had heard rumours that Tlaloc was thinking along those lines and he feared for his son’s safety. If Tlaloc had chosen to do it, Chac could be dead and Masaya’s husband would be the next ruler.”
“So that’s why the chief was acting so strangely,” Harry mused. “I wondered why he seemed distant the other night. He was worried because he thought his son’s life was in danger.” He paused, recalling Chac’s demeanour after the game. “Chac didn’t know, did he?”
“I don’t think Chac has a clue about Tlaloc’s true intentions,” Hunter said. “He thought they were playing a friendly competition. Tecuhtl didn’t want to upset him before the match. Like I said, the whole fate thing hasn’t been used in years, so he had no real reason to think Tlaloc would do that to him.
“Tlilli Tlapalla is a peaceful society now. Years ago there were factions that were fighting to take control. The three original societies were the magical people of the Aztecs, Incans, and Mayans. Now they have become so interbred that they consider themselves one tribe: the Mixtecs. People can still trace their lineage, but they don’t fight for superiority any longer. As long as Chac played a fair game, Tlaloc was not expected to call fate. He played it smart, really. He can always kill Chac later. What he needs is a way into the royal family, and his ticket is Masaya. She’s quite taken with him, in case you haven’t noticed.”
“Oh, I noticed, all right,” Harry said. “She made that abundantly clear. What I don’t understand is how my marrying her will help things. Why is Tecuhtl willing to marry off his daughter to a complete stranger - a foreigner?”
“If you are Plumed Serpent, your authority usurps Tecuhtl’s. If his daughter is your wife, his line through her is preserved,” Hunter explained. “Even if you marry her and it turns out you are not Plumed Serpent, he will not feel threatened by you. As a foreigner, you will not have the support of the people. Either way, it is a win-win situation for him.”
“Only, I’m not going to do it. I’d sooner marry a dung beetle than her,” he said, venomously.
“Tecuhtl will not even consider the possibility that you won’t have her. Their society is much different than ours, Harry. In case you haven’t noticed, women are not thought of highly here. It has improved in recent years, but women still have little input into the affairs of the Council. Tecuhtl is using his daughter as a bargaining chip and, for that matter, so is Tlaloc. Men barter and trade daughters and sisters to further their own agendas.”
“Why don’t the women get together and protest?” Harry asked.
Hunter snorted. “We are talking about an old, segregated culture here, Harry. They have been doing it this way for a thousand or more years with no influence from the European lifestyle. Things are changing, but slowly. The younger ones like Masaya are protesting the Old Ways, but they are not taken seriously by the Council. The Wise Ones want things to remain as they always have been.”
Hunter looked thoughtful for a moment. “There is another way to approach this problem.” He paused, as if unsure of what he was about to say. “Maybe… maybe we should explore the possibility of a union between you and Masaya further.”
“What!” Harry said hotly. “Haven’t you heard a word I’ve said? This is not up for discussion.” He jumped up in protest. “I can’t marry her, Hunter, and I won’t!”
“Sit down, Harry,” Hunter said calmly. “Let’s talk this over rationally.” It was an order not a request.
Despite his best intentions, Harry obeyed. But he crossed his arms defiantly and glared at Hunter. “There’s nothing to talk about, Hunter,” he said, his chin jutted out defiantly.
“Why not consider it?” he asked. He really had no intention of changing Harry’s mind, but he had a feeling there was more to this than the boy was letting on. So he persisted. “You’re a young man with certain… needs,” he said as delicately as he could. “You do prefer girls, right?” he asked cheekily.
“Of course I do,” Harry said through gritted teeth.
“Then what’s the problem?” Hunter asked casually. “You don’t have to love someone - or even like them - to get married. People do it all the time. Arranged marriages have been going on successfully for centuries.”
Hunter didn’t expect Harry to buy it. He was just playing Devil’s Advocate to learn more about the boy. Harry had not been especially open with him about his personal life, and he knew no other way of finding things out other than through deception. Besides, part of him really wanted Harry to consider the possibility.
Strategically speaking, there would be so many advantages to a union between the two. Harry didn’t have to marry her right away. They could have a long engagement… get to know each other a bit… and then if it still wasn’t working out, break it off quietly. He would be going back to Hogwarts soon and they might never see each other again.
Harry didn’t know what to say. He just knew that he had no intentions of pursuing this further. He just needed to go home to his friends and Ginny. To Hogwarts. He missed them all terribly. He closed his eyes and reached beyond the wall in his head to feel Ginny. He just needed to remind himself that she was there and feel her… feelings.
He wasn’t prepared for what happened next.
As he reached beyond his wall, he felt as if he were being thrown through space and time with a force unlike any he’d ever known. Pictures began to flash in his head. He began seeing images. It was like sitting in a cinema and watching the show at really high speed but from two different perspectives — his own and someone else’s.
Diagon Alley… Death Eaters… hexes and curses being thrown everywhere… people screaming…
The images were so terrifying that he cried out. For a moment, he thought that he was seeing these things through Voldemort’s eyes. But for some reason it felt different this time. For one thing, his scar wasn’t burning.
Then it hit him. He was inside Ginny’s mind.
It was like nothing he had ever felt before. He was seeing through Ginny’s eyes as she dodged curses and fear gripped his heart. As soon as he entered her head he felt her start from the invasion. She knew he was there, but she was too busy and in too much danger at the moment to do anything about it.
Harry looked around. They were in the middle of chaos. People were running everywhere, birds from Eeylop’s Owl Emporium were screeching, and children were crying out in fright as their parents raced to protect them from the spells being flung around at rapid speed.
About twenty people in dark robes and hoods were standing in the middle of the street shooting hexes at people. Some bystanders were trying to return the hexes with curses of their own, but most were trying to flee in panic, resulting in pandemonium.
Fear for Ginny’s safety gripped Harry, but his training and instincts kicked in. A Death Eater raised his wand towards her and he heard a shout that sounded like, ‘She’s over there!’
He heard himself scream, ‘Move!’
Ginny must have seen it too because she dodged around a barrel filled with pickled eye of newt and hid behind a display of cauldrons just as the curse grazed past where she had been standing moments earlier.
As she caught her breath, Harry could feel her heart practically pounding out of her chest. It was so loud, he was sure others would have been able to hear it too if there had not been so much noise and confusion. Luckily, the Death Eater lost track of her in the panic of the crowded street and moved off in another direction. This gave them time to figure out what was going on.
‘What are you doing here!’ Ginny practically screamed inside her mind.
‘Saving your arse, apparently,’ he answered in annoyance.
‘I don’t need your help, Harry. I can take care of myself!’ she retorted, just as a stray curse hit a cauldron bottom near her head, causing them to duck and crouch down low to escape being hurt by the flying pots.
But Harry wasn’t listening. From this vantage point, he could see more clearly what was going on in the street thanks to a hole in the stacked cauldrons. It was just enough of a gap to point a wand through and still see - if he cocked his eye just right, that is - yet afforded them some protection from the flying spells. He watched as a Death Eater raised his wand and prepared to cast a spell in the direction of a woman who was trying to fight off another Death Eater.
‘Ginny!' Harry yelled, but she was already on it. She had drawn her wand and poked it through the hole. Harry heard her mutter an incantation and saw the Death Eater run off fighting giant bat bogeys as he went.
‘Nice one,’ he said, impressed.
‘Thanks,’ she thought back, obviously pleased.
‘We have to get you out of here,’ he told her firmly. ‘Who did you come with?’
‘Mum, Ron, and Moody,’ she said. ‘But we got separated as soon as the fighting started. I don’t know where they are, Harry.’ She was fighting a wave of fear as she heard the Death Eaters close by yelling out at each other. She heard her name exchanged and she knew they were looking for her. They both knew why.
Harry was tried desperately to control his own fear for her safety because he realised that his emotions were affecting Ginny’s ability to concentrate. He needed her to be strong so he could help her get out of this mess. Looking around, he took in his surroundings and assessed the situation. Their best bet was to get her inside, off the street. Maybe they could escape out the back or, best case scenario, the shop owner might have a Floo she could use to get out of there.
‘Ginny,’ he said calmly. ‘You have to get out of here. We need to create a distraction so that you can get inside the cauldron shop.’
‘What do you have in mind?' she asked.
He could feel her emotions calming and the panic ebbing away. He knew he had to give her a focus. A plan of action. ‘Do you see that crate of frogs over there? Just to the left of us?’
She nodded. They were jumping up and down in alarm and making an awful racket.
‘I want you to levitate it over to the middle of the street, just behind that group of Death Eaters there,’ he told her, drawing her attention to a group of masked figures firing curses in all directions and providing cover for about five others who were running all over searching for her.
She pointed her wand, concentrated, and said the incantation. “Wingardium Leviosa!” The crate lifted off the table and floated in the direction Ginny guided it, sitting down neatly in the middle of the chaos.
‘Now break the crate open,’ he instructed. ‘A good Reductor curse should do it, but be careful not to make it too strong. We want the frogs alive.’
Ginny nodded and concentrated again. She hadn’t had much practice with Reductor curses but she swallowed her nervousness, aimed her wand, and said the incantation. Bits of wood flew everywhere as the spell made contact. Both Ginny and Harry were relieved to see the frogs hopping and jumping to freedom, apparently unhurt.
‘Now what?’ she asked, watching the small creatures spill out of the demolished crate. They weren’t much of a distraction and the Death Eaters hadn’t taken any notice of them yet.
‘Now we have some fun,’ he said, and Ginny detected his sadistic meaning to those words. ‘I want you to point to a few of the frogs closest to the Death Eaters and enlarge them. While they’re preoccupied, we make a run for it.’
‘Good plan, Harry,’ Ginny’s mind hissed, ‘but that’s a fifth year spell. I don’t know how to do that!’ Ginny felt Harry’s shock. Obviously he hadn’t counted on that. But she knew Harry well enough to know a little thing like not knowing the spell wouldn’t deter him, and she was right.
‘You can do this, Ginny,’ he said reassuringly. ‘I know you can. The incantation is Engorio. All you have to do is picture the size of the thing you want to enlarge in your mind and then concentrate on that image as you say the spell. The wand movement is just a small backwards flick.’
‘I-I’ll try,’ she said, stumbling over the words in nervousness. She pointed her wand through the hole in the cauldrons and held her breath as she imagined what she needed to do. Exhaling, she cast the charm. She missed.
‘Try again,’ Harry encouraged her. ‘That one jumped away just as you cast the charm. Wait until one jumps, and then do it.’
She spotted one of the little green creatures close to the feet of a Death Eater who was firing curses in the opposite direction. He hadn’t noticed the frogs jumping around behind him yet. Or, if he did, he took no notice of them. Taking aim, she imagined a giant frog as big as a dragon spitting out its long tongue and knocking the Death Eater off his feet. She could almost feel Harry’s hand on hers helping her aim properly and make the correct wand movement.
This time when she cast the spell she felt a pool of power that extended from deep inside her and out through her arm. It was an incredible feeling and she tingled all over from the magic coursing through her body.
The spell hit dead centre and the tiny frog instantly became the size of a small house. Both faltered in their surprise at how well it had worked. The thing was huge. It resembled a fat dragon except for its large eyes and squat body. A stray spell from the battle raging around it hit the beast in the shoulder area and it let out an angry croak. Its reflexive hop caused the ground to shake and the noise to resound in the air, making the group of Death Eaters turn in surprise. They momentarily stopped their assault on the crowd and turned to stare in horror at the ugly beast looming above them.
If they weren’t in so much danger, it would have been funny. They wished they could stay and enjoy the scene, but Harry knew they didn’t have much time. A simple Reducio spell would have the animal back to normal size and then their chance would be lost. He only hoped it would be a big enough of a distraction to buy them the few minutes they needed to get themselves inside the door of the cauldron shop without being seen.
Sure enough, the sight of the giant frog sticking out its long, red tongue and grasping the nearest robed, masked figure had the Death Eaters scrambling for cover. Harry didn’t even have to tell Ginny to move. She scrambled out of their hiding spot and dashed for the door just as the giant frog was bringing the man to its mouth. The stupid animal probably thought the Death Eater was a fly.
Slamming the door behind her, she looked around frantically for help. The store seemed to be deserted.
‘Ginny, seal the door,’ Harry told her.
“Colloportus!” she bellowed, shooting the spell towards the door. It sealed with a squelch and a pop. She once again looked around for some means to escape.
‘Try the back of the shop,’ Harry suggested. ‘Hopefully there’s a back door or, if we’re very lucky, a fireplace.’
Ginny ran towards the rear of the store and behind the counter. There was a closed door that appeared to lead to the back storeroom.
“It’s locked!” she yelled in frustration. She screamed and ducked as a curse shattered the storefront window behind her.
Harry swore. ‘So much for keeping them out!’ he yelled inside her mind. ‘One of them must have seen you! Try Alahomora and see if you can get the door open.’
“Alahomora!” she said frantically, but the locked door stubbornly refused to budge. Behind her, two Death Eaters were attempting to climb through the window.
‘We don’t have time for this, Gin! Just blow it off its hinges. You have to get out of here!’ Harry’s fear for her was growing. But so was his anger. No way would he allow Voldemort touch one hair on her head. If they hurt her, so help him he’d hunt them down and kill them all!
“Reducto!” she yelled. The wooden door burst into a thousand tiny pieces. She rushed inside, but was immediately disappointed when she didn’t spot a means of escape. There wasn’t a door or a fireplace. She too swore violently. “Now what?”
They looked around and Harry spotted something. They could hear the glass breaking as the two masked figures tried to get through the window without being cut. They must be related to Crabbe and Goyle, Harry thought. Lucky for them, neither had remembered the Vanishing Charm or they would be through that window in a trice.
‘Right there! Under the rug! Do you see it, Ginny? I think it’s a trapdoor!’
Ginny rushed over and pulled back the rug. Sure enough, it was a trap door. She quickly threw it open and started to climb in.
‘Wait!’ Harry exclaimed. ‘Blast a hole in the wall and make them think you escaped out the back! Then levitate the rug above us so that as soon as the door is closed, it’ll drop down and cover the opening.’
Ginny did as he said, just in time. Seconds after the door was shut and the rug fell into place, they heard heavy footsteps rushing into the room. She held her breath. After a moment of searching they heard another loud crash as the small hole Ginny had created was enlarged to accommodate two fully grown adults. More footsteps, then silence.
Ginny hunkered down in the dark on the stairs, afraid to move. It was pitch black in here. She couldn’t even see her hand in front of her face. She tried to control her breathing but was finding it difficult to manage her panic in the dark. If Harry wasn’t there with her, she might have cried.
‘Do you think it’s safe to light my wand?’ she asked Harry inside her mind.
‘I think you’ll have to risk it,’ Harry said grimly after a moment’s thought. ‘But be prepared to extinguish it if you hear any noise up above. I don’t want to take the chance that anyone might see the light through the floorboards and figure out where you are. You also should seal the trap door,’ he suggested.
‘Good thinking,’ Ginny said as she lit her wand. She whispered the spell on the opening above and heard the squelching sound of the door sealing itself. Making her way down the steps, she held her wand out and looked around. Instead of a cellar, they found themselves in a tunnel. ‘Well, this is convenient,’ she said dryly. ‘Where do you think this leads?’
‘I don’t know, but I think we’re about to find out.’ Harry answered her. ‘Just be ready for anything.’
‘I didn’t grow up with six older brothers for nothing, Harry,’ Ginny chuckled silently as she walked. Even though she could see the humour of the situation, her fear had not diminished much. ‘That alone taught me to always watch my back!’
Down here in the darkness and deadly quiet, the chaos of the street seemed far away. The only sounds were the dripping of water and the scuttling of small animals nearby, but the passageway remained empty. They both began to feel some of the tension ease. ‘I’m sure that Fred and George were mostly responsible for your distrust,’ he agreed. ‘Percy may be a git, but he didn’t strike me as the sort to torture you needlessly.’
‘You would be right,’ she said, jumping slightly as a large rat hurried by. The sight of the small creature immediately put them both on edge, knowing that one of Voldemort’s most loyal servants was able to take rat form. For all they knew, Pettigrew could be lurking down here waiting for them.
‘Percy wasn’t terrible to live with,’ she said, more to make conversation.
Harry felt a wave of sadness.
‘I-I miss him, you know,’ she said timidly.
‘I know,’ he said sympathetically.
‘He has been a right prat this past year, but I still love him.’
He felt her guilt over that statement and hoped it wasn’t because she felt like she was betraying him because she still loved her brother.
‘Don’t feel bad about that, Ginny,’ Harry assured her. ‘I wouldn’t expect you to stop loving him just because he’s been… misguided.’ He fought his own guilt for being the cause of the rift in her family.
‘Well, don’t you feel guilty, either, Harry Potter,’ she chided. ‘Percy is an adult and makes his own decisions. He made his bed and now he’s just going to have to lie in it! You had nothing to do with it. Our loyalty is to you and Dumbledore. If Percy had half a brain, he would have seen the truth last year instead of listening to Fudge. Hopefully he’ll come to his senses soon and realise how wrong he’s been.’
‘Yeah, I guess…,’ he said uncertainly. A few more minutes passed and they walked along, thinking all sorts of private thoughts and feeling each other’s reactions. They both knew that they would never feel as close to any other person as they felt to each other at that moment, even thousands of miles apart. Their bond was quickly becoming the most important thing in their lives.
‘Harry…’
‘Yeah?’
‘I’m really glad you’re here.’
‘Me too, Gin. Me too.’
They walked on in silence. No words were needed.
***
About twenty minutes later Ginny came to a set of stairs and another trapdoor.
‘What do you think?’ she asked apprehensively.
‘Go quietly up the stairs and try to listen,’ Harry suggested. ‘But keep your wand at the ready.’
‘All right… here goes nothing.’ She cautiously put one foot on the stairs and began to climb, clutching her wand tightly in her hand. At the top of the stairs she paused and strained to listen. It was quiet. ‘Now what?’
‘See if you can lift the door, but just enough to see where we are.’
Ginny did as he said and cautiously lifted the door. They were in another storeroom stocked with food and liquors. It didn’t look familiar, but the only place it could be was the Leaky Cauldron. It was the only establishment in Diagon Alley that sold both food and spirits. The storeroom was deserted and all was quiet.
‘I’m going to chance it, Harry,’ Ginny said bravely. ‘If this is the Leaky Cauldron, I can use their Floo to get back to Headquarters.’
Harry was reluctant to let her leave the relative safety of their hiding place, but at the same time, he knew she couldn’t stay here. Grimmauld Place was the safest place for her right now. Besides, people would be worried about her.
She didn’t wait for his approval and scrambled out of the hole as quietly as she could. Creeping to the door, she pulled it open a crack and looked about. The hall was empty, too. Deciding to risk it, she made her way cautiously down the hallway. It was indeed the Leaky Cauldron. They both recognized where they were. Ginny began to walk faster.
Harry was about to tell her to slow down when a lone, dark figure stepped out of the shadows and grabbed her. Ginny tried to scream, but he clamped his hand roughly over her mouth and dragged her backward into a room. She managed to jerk free and draw her wand, but the man was faster.
“Expelliarmus!” Ginny’s wand went flying neatly into his outstretched hand.
“Well, well, well… what do we have here? Aren’t I the lucky one today?” the man clucked appreciatively, his oily voice sending shivers down Ginny’s spine and raising Harry’s hackles. He pocketed Ginny’s wand and pointed his own at her. “Not only do I find the prize, but she’s a fine looking little lady, if I ever did see one! My Master will be very pleased with me.”
“Your Master is a raving lunatic and a sadistic murderer!” Ginny yelled, backing up.
The man’s gaunt face darkened. “I’d watch what I say about the Dark Lord, missy. He won’t be as forgiving as me. Now sit down and shut up!”
Ginny ignored him. “What does V-Voldemort want with me anyway?”
The man flinched at the name. “I don’t ask no questions, and neither should you.” He flicked his wand and a chair from the far end of the room flew towards her from behind. It hit her just below the knees, forcing them to buckle and making her sit down hard with a grunt. Magical ropes bound her hand and feet, trying her to the chair. She was utterly helpless.
She struggled in vain and let out a frustrated grunt. The man, satisfied that she was going nowhere, walked over to the window and pulled the blinds. “There now,” he said sadistically. “That’s better, ain’t it? Now we won’t be disturbed, will we, beautiful?” he sniggered as he came within inches of her face.
Ginny recoiled from his smelly breath and close proximity. “Who-who are you?” she managed. “Do you have a name?”
“Name don’t matter,” he sneered. He paused, an odd gleam coming into his vacant eyes. “But, seeing as how we’re going to be spending some time together, you can call me Tom.”
Ginny flinched at the name and Harry felt a cold desperate fear sweep through her. 'Don’t listen to him,' Harry whispered. 'Remember… I’m still here and I won’t let him hurt you. Just keep him talking as long as you can.'
“I thought you were going to take me to V-Voldemort,” Ginny said.
The man flinched. “Don’t say the name!” he roared madly.
Ginny stared at him expectantly, trying not to react as a slow, evil smile appeared on his horrible, stubbly face.
“Well, Tom,” she said, her face a mask of confidence, “what now?”
“Now, we have some fun,” he rasped, raking a bony finger over her cheek making Ginny want to retch and Harry ready to kill.
“You know, people are looking for me and when they find me —”
“Who’s gonna find you here?” Tom laughed looking around at the empty room. “By the time they even think to look here, we’ll be long gone, won’t we sweet?”
Ginny didn’t know what to say to that because Tom was right. No one did know where she was. She was alone... Then she felt Harry and she knew instantly that wasn’t true. She wasn’t alone. Harry was here too, but he was just as helpless as she was because he was bound by her weak body. She could feel his growing anger and frustration building deep inside her and it wasn’t helping.
Ginny, she heard Harry’s tight voice say inside her mind. 'I’m not going to let him hurt you. You know that, right?'
Ginny didn’t answer because she wasn’t sure what Harry could do to help her. He was stuck inside her body and just as helpless as her.
'Do you trust me?'
'Of course I trust you,' she answered automatically. 'But I don’t see-'
His quiet, deadly serious, strong voice cut her off mid-sentence. 'I have a plan that could get us out of here but it’ll require your complete cooperation and trust. You do trust me, right?'
Ginny thought about it for a moment. Did she trust Harry? She didn’t have time to answer that question because Tom made another move at exactly that moment.
“Cat got yer tongue, missy?” he snarled. “You awful quiet, all of a sudden.”
“I’m just imagining what my brothers will do to you once they find me,” Ginny said flippantly. “I’m the youngest of seven and they’re all very powerful wizards, you know. They’ll be here any minute. I was supposed to meet them here if we got separated,” she lied.
His barking laughter sounded like howls. “S’at so? I’m shaking in me boots!” When his initial laughter died away, he drew in closer. “I’ll give you this, missy. You got spunk.” He leaned in even closer and Ginny could see the predatory look in his eyes. She shivered because she knew exactly what that meant. “I like spunk,” he wheezed appreciatively.
She did the only thing she could think to do. She spit full in his face.
His appreciation turned to rage in a blink of an eye and Ginny found his wand drawn and pointed at her. “You’ll pay for that, missy!” he said angrily. “Crucio!”
Both Ginny and Harry felt pain beyond pain. Harry, having been on the receiving end of the Unforgivable spell before, knew what to expect. But knowing did not prepare him for it any better than not knowing.
Ginny, who had never had the Cruciatus placed on her before, was totally taken by surprise. She never knew such pain existed. It was as if her body was being torn apart from the inside out. Because she was tied to the chair, she had nowhere to go, but her body had a mind of its own. She writhed and pulled at her ropes, resulting in some nasty welts and bruises on her wrists which she could not feel through the pain of the curse. She screamed and screamed, but could not hear anything beyond Harry’s screams inside her head.
It was too much. With a snap, something broke inside her and she surrendered herself to Harry. Like he had been waiting to do it all along, the barrier that had kept her essence separate from him shattered. Where there were once two people, now there was something else. Something new and powerful.
Ginny’s eyes flew open and Tom, who was still holding the curse on her, was blinded by a brilliant green light emanating from her eyes. Her bonds literally dissolved into nothing and the blast threw her kidnapper against the wall with a sickening thud that shook the entire foundation of the old building and left him crumpled, lifeless, on the floor.
The being breathed deeply. She was free at last! Power within radiated from the Old One sharing her human body; it was so immense she knew they could bring the building down with a thought. The being turned her head and viewed her surroundings inquisitively. She was aware, and yet not aware; Ginny, but not Ginny. Curious...
Suddenly, the door to the room flew open and several people burst in - Dumbledore, her father, Bill, Moody, Lupin… they were all there. The sight that met them shocked the men to the core.
Ginny Weasley was floating angelically about six feet off the ground, her red hair flying all over the place as if blown by some magical breeze. Her eyes were glowing green, her face was a terrible mask of anger, and her body was bathed in a brilliant white light that caused them all to shield their eyes to keep from being permanently blinded. The air, itself, was thick with magic.
She knew them, but did not know them.
“Friends or foes?” the being roared loudly, turning the full force of her rage on the group huddled in terror at the threshold. The voice was neither male nor female; neither Harry or Ginny. It was otherworldly and unlike any voice ever heard.
“Ginny!” Arthur yelled, clearly frightened. “What’s happening to you?”
“Friends or foes!” the unearthly voice thundered, shaking the foundation for the second time that day.
“Friends!” Dumbledore said clearly, stepping up to the front of the group and looking the being directly in the eye.
The magic in the room seemed to crackle and dissipate.
Slowly, they watched the slim figure descend gracefully to the ground and fall in a heap on the floor.
***
At that very moment… many, many miles away, a very confused and worried Stephen Hunter watched over the lifeless body of his protégé as he lay in a magically-induced coma. In all his years Hunter had never seen anything like it. After Harry passed out, Hunter had resorted to magically levitating Harry’s lifeless body to his room because the boy had surrounded himself in a sort of force field that wouldn’t let anyone within ten feet of him.
For a time, Hunter had feared the boy was dead. But then, after an hour or so, he saw Harry’s body undergo undeniable signs of trauma - like he was in great pain. Without warning, the tattoo on Harry’s chest burst open and the room was bathed in a brilliant green light — the same light that had come from the temple the night Harry got the mark. It was contained inside the shield surrounding the teenager’s body but soon broke through, filling the room with raw magic and lifting the boy’s body vertical about six feet in the air so that he hovered near the ceiling.
Gathering his courage, Hunter snuck over to the floating figure and took a closer look. He jumped back in shock as Harry’s eyes opened and that same green light penetrated directly into his own blue eyes. Hunter knew he should have been blinded by the brilliance, but for some reason he was not. Harry’s mouth opened and he spoke his first words since passing out in his library.
“Friend or foe?” he asked in a strange, disembodied voice that did not seem to be connected to him at all.
“W-What?” Stephen sputtered dumbly.
“Friend or foe!” the voice yelled angrily, reverberating off the stucco walls, making him jump back in fear.
“Friend!” Hunter said quickly, sensing this was no time for questions.
With a great sense of relief, the air slowly returned to normal and Harry’s body descended back to the bed with a soft plop.
Sensing that the danger was over for now, Hunter checked the boy and found him sleeping peacefully. Satisfied, he settled back down in his chair and summoned a book, preparing himself for another long night of waiting for answers.
Chapter 8: The Power of Love
“The time is near, young one…”“We are sending someone to watch over you. The servant approaches…”
“Do not give up...”
“The Key… find the Key…”
“You are never alone… We are watching…”
“Use the Key to find the answers… You have what you need…”
“Beware of the Shadow… There is danger in the Shadow…”
“Remember….”
The ringing of the ethereal voices in his ears was fierce, but as the fog of unconsciousness lifted they all blended together into a loud squeal that was torture, waking him up from his state of unconsciousness.
“Where am I?”
At the sound of his voice, Hunter woke from his worried, snoring slumber. He had been slouched in the chair beside Harry’s bed for a long time. It had been a day and a half since Harry had collapsed and he hadn’t left his side for more than a few minutes. He had been sleeping soundly, but hearing Harry’s voice from the bed thrust him from sleep to alertness in an instant.
Harry was sitting up in his bed looking around wildly. Hunter saw disorientation mixed with fear, surprise and… something else on his young face. Something vaguely familiar but difficult to place a label on.
“What happened?” Harry groaned.
“You tell me.” The older man fixed him with a stare as he handed Harry his spectacles. Hunter’s clearly knew Harry was hiding something.
Harry was quiet as his face showed the blank look of someone trying to recall events beyond their grasp. Then, like an electric light bulb suddenly coming to life, the answer was suddenly before him.
In panic, he looked up at Hunter. “I have to go home. Now!”
He started to swing his legs over the edge of the bed and stand, but he swayed slightly. Hunter tried to stop him, but Harry violently threw him off.
“Gr’off me! Didn’t you hear? I said I have to go home!” he yelled, this time more forcefully. “Where’s my clothes?” He swayed on his feet as he frantically searched around the room for his belongings.
“Harry… wait just a minute,” Stephen tried to say, but the boy wasn’t listening. “We need to talk-”
“No, we don’t. There’s nothing to talk about. I need to… she needs… I have to go! Now how do I get off this bloody island? I’ll swim, if I have to,” he warned, and Hunter had no doubt that he meant it.
“No one’s keeping you prisoner here, Quetzal. But it’s not that simple.”
“Why?”
Harry stopped and stared at Stephen with such a look of pain that the older man almost winced and looked away. Harry’s emotions were stretched so tight, it was evident he would break if given much more. Hunter instantly knew he was referring to more than his inability to leave.
“You’re not ready to leave, for one thing. You’re doing well with Occlumency, but what happens when you return to England? Are you strong enough to keep Voldemort out of your mind? Will you be putting yourself and others at risk by going back before you’re ready?”
These thoughts obviously had not occurred to Harry and his face fell like a deflated balloon. Now that he had the boy’s attention, he decided to solidify his argument. “Besides, you are magically bound to compete against Tlaloc in two weeks. A lot is riding on that and, unfortunately, you have no choice but to compete.”
“I bloody well do have a choice!” Harry set his jaw stubbornly. He would not be bullied into anything. His place was at home, in England, with Ginny. She needed him. “This isn’t my fight, Hunter, it’s yours.”
“You’re wrong,” the sandy-haired man shot back. “When Tecuhtl clapped his hands, it became binding. You must compete, no matter what, or you will be cursed.”
“I already am cursed! How much more cursed can a person get!”
His frustration was reaching a climax and he lashed out. A wave of pure emotion hit the table, splintering it apart with a satisfying crash. He had done this without thinking or planning and, oddly, it felt good to lose control — to defy everyone who wanted to tell him what to do.
His mind was a blank, white-hot mass of rage and he could feel the power pooling around him. He seemed to be drawing it to him like metal to a magnet. The magic crackled and sputtered, causing Hunter to step back apprehensively. He did not back down, however.
“Harry,” he began calmly, in a soothing tone, “I know that you could destroy this house with a thought and blast me into oblivion, if you were of the mind. All I’m asking is that you calm down and tell me what happened.” He searched the boy’s face for confirmation that he was listening and was rewarded with a slight twinge around the eyes and forehead.
“I need to know exactly what happened if I’m to help you. Please help me understand.”
The request was reasonable and the thing that got through first was that Hunter was willing to help him.
The air slowly returned to normal. Stephen couldn’t help but breathe a sigh of relief.
“That’s better,” he said as Harry’s face relaxed. Drawing Harry back to the bed, he forced the still unsteady boy to sit down. “Let’s start from the beginning, shall we? One minute we were discussing Tlaloc and the next minute your eyes rolled back in your head and you passed out. What in the bloody hell was that all about?”
Harry hesitated, not sure how much he wanted to divulge about Ginny and their bond. He didn’t know how well he could trust Stephen Hunter. So far, the man was one big contradiction.
Dodging the issue, he said, “I’m not sure what happened. It’s never been quite like that before. Usually, I’m sleeping. One minute I was here and the next I was someplace else.”
‘Like astral projection?”
“No. I was in someone else’s mind.”
Harry looked away, his mind far off with Ginny. He couldn’t feel her emotions, no matter how much he tried. It was like a hole in his soul where she should have been, and he felt empty - utterly helpless.
“Was it Voldemort?”
“No,” Harry said as he shook his head. “Not Voldemort.”
Hunter looked confused. “Then who?”
“It doesn’t matter,” he said tiredly.
Seeing Hunter expression, he sighed. “It was a friend - someone I’ve known for a very long time.” Dispassionately, he began to describe his experience.
“There was a fight. Death Eaters were attacking in Diagon Alley, looking for someone. We escaped, but then my friend was captured.” Harry’s face darkened. “We were hit by the Cruciatus but the curse backfired and the man was blasted into the wall. I think the blast killed him.
“I did it.” He closed his eyes to block out the pain. “I was so angry. I wanted to kill the man for doing that to… my friend. All I remember was a blinding green light. I think it was coming from inside me. Then it’s like seeing two pictures from one viewpoint. I see Dumbledore, Lupin, and the others rushing in back at the Leaky Cauldron and I also see you, here on the island. That part is fuzzy. It’s seems almost far away… like something that happened to a different person. Disconnected from me, somehow.”
Hunter rubbed his tired, bloodshot eyes. “You really scared the hell out of me, Harry. One minute you were lying on the bed looking as if death had claimed you, and the next minute you were floating in the air with glowing eyes, speaking in a strange, other-worldly voice. You asked me if I was friend or foe. Do you remember? It was… odd. Have you ever had that happen before?”
Harry scrunched his forehead in deep thought. His mind was whirling and he was trying to recall exactly what had happened. In frustration, he shook his head. “I just can’t remember. All I can recall is feeling so angry I thought I would explode.”
Shakily, in a hushed voice, he admitted, “I’ve never felt that way before. It was scary, but.... I hope that man is dead; I hope that blast killed him.” His voice was barely a whisper. “What kind of person does that make me, Hunter?” He looked intently at a spot on the wall and refused to meet Stephen’s eye.
Hunter laid a hand on Harry’s shoulder. “It makes you human, Quetzal.”
Harry turned his eyes and looked at him with a sad, beaten expression. Hunter could see the weight of the world in those eyes and he felt a connection with the young man. He saw himself, as he had been long ago, in Harry.
Although the circumstances were different, Stephen knew Harry had seen too much for one so young. It sickened him to think of all he had gone through — had yet to go through. A part of him wished he could take the burden away and put it on his own shoulders. Harry didn’t deserve this.
With a start, something clicked in Hunter’s mind. When had he started to care about the boy?
He did not realize he had actually jerked away as if he had just received an electric shock until he saw Harry frown in confusion.
Trying to cover for himself, he managed to choke out, “I, uh… have to go. Have to check in with Chuen… let her know you’re awake.” He backed his way out of the room nervously. “Will you be alright?”
“Only time can answer that question,” Harry said as he slumped against the bed in defeat. He sat back up abruptly, his eyes narrowed dangerously. “Don’t think for a minute we’re finished with this conversation, Hunter. I still intend to go home.”
Hunter made a non-committal noise in the back of his throat that let Harry know he had heard. Then, he was gone.
Harry let out a wail of frustration and a vase sitting on the bedside table shattered. He didn’t care. All he cared about now was getting home and he vowed he wouldn’t rest until that was accomplished.
Closing his eyes, he drifted into a troubled sleep, wishing with all his might he knew what had happened to Ginny and why he couldn’t sense her at all.
***
The cottage was just as he remembered it, and he felt safe for the first time since he had last been there. It was a feeling he had never known — like a warm blanket, flying, and seeing Hogwarts again after a long summer at the Dursleys all wrapped into one. It felt more like home than anyplace he had ever been.
Moving quietly around the house, he admired the cosy rooms with their quaint stone hearths and comfortable furnishings as he waited. Trying to shake the certainty that something was wrong, he absently browsed the bookshelf and picked up a book on Quidditch, then quickly realised he couldn’t concentrate. Angrily, he threw down the magazine and paced.
“Where are you, Ginny?” he growled worriedly. Reaching out his mind, he called out to her.
Suddenly, the door was flung open and a rush of red hair ran to him, embracing him fiercely. They clung to each other and cried tears of relief. When they pulled apart, they leaned into the other and both began speaking at once.
“I was so scared-”
“What happened after-”
They could feel each other’s raw emotions, and they fell into each other’s arms again, drawing strength from the other. Calmer, they pulled apart and looked in the other’s eyes, searching for reassurance.
Ginny slowly smiled. “You just couldn’t resist saving me again, could you Potter?” she said affectionately without a trace of resentment.
“I- huh?” Harry said, blinking in surprise. “I didn’t do anything.”
Ginny snorted. “Right. Then how do you explain that little stunt you pulled back at the Leaky Cauldron? One minute I was being tortured by the most dreadful curse I have ever experienced, and the next I’m floating several feet off the ground. Are you trying to tell me you had nothing to do with that?”
“Well, no,” Harry admitted. “But I’m just as confused as you about what happened. I swear I didn’t do anything intentionally. It was all a big mistake.”
Ginny’s eyes flashed. “Saving my life was a mistake?”
“No, of course not!” Harry’s temper began to rise along with Ginny’s. “But if I had chosen a way to save you, it wouldn’t have been anything like that! That was scary… don’t you think?” Some of his anger faded as he admitted that he had been scared, and Ginny’s followed suit. He sat down in a big chair, thoroughly exhausted.
“Yeah…” she agreed, plopping herself down in his lap. His arms automatically encircled her waist and he pulled her close. “…That ranks right up there with one of the scariest moments of my life! Even Riddle….”
She scrunched her face thoughtfully so that her freckles could be seen plainly on top of her nose. Her eyes darkened. “That curse… no wonder it’s considered an Unforgivable! It was horrible! All I could think of was how I wished I could die, just so the pain would end.” She laid her head on his chest and they sat like that for a long time. Harry knew exactly what she meant.
Harry was the first to speak. He shifted so that he could look her full in the eyes. “Why couldn’t I feel you afterwards? After I woke up, it was like a black hole in my soul — like a piece of me was missing. I couldn’t feel you. I think that scared me more than anything.”
Ginny thought for a moment. “I suppose it was because I’ve been unconscious for awhile. I just woke up, but was so exhausted I fell asleep after talking to Professor Dumbledore about what happened.
“I felt like that for the two weeks that you were unconscious after they took you away. Even though everyone kept telling me you were all right, I couldn’t believe them. I knew everything was wrong. They kept saying it was for your own good. But it was like half of me was gone, and I felt you slipping away even further… dying. I knew if you died, I’d die too, and that was fine by me. I wouldn’t want to live without you.” She avoided his intense gaze in favour of the far wall and turned away from him.
He spun her around roughly, forcing her to look at him; his eyes flashed and his face contorted in anger. For a moment Ginny was afraid. She could feel the anger rolling off him and this time it was directed at her.
“Never… say… that… again,” he said slowly through clenched teeth.
“Harry-”
“I mean it, Ginny! No matter what happens, I want you to promise that you won’t give up. I need to know that you’ll be okay, no matter what happens to me.”
Ginny jutted out her chin defiantly and shook him off, but she didn’t turn away again.
“I can’t,” she said.
They locked eyes and stared at each other for a moment, righteous anger swirling around them.
“Yes, Ginny. You can… you have to. I need to know you’ll be all right if…” his voice broke.
“…if I don’t make it.”
A tear slid down her face at the sight of his pleading eyes. But she couldn’t lie to him, ever. “Listen to me, Harry.” She took his hand in hers and filled her heart with the strength she knew he would need.
“I can’t promise you that. Even if I wanted to — which I don’t — it’s impossible now.”
He fought through the lump in his throat because he had a bad feeling he wasn’t going to like her explanation. “What do you mean?” he asked quietly.
Ginny sighed. “Let’s sit across from each other. We need to talk.” She scooted off him and pulled up another chair so that they were facing each other.
Harry regarded her anxiously, his anger forgotten. “Ginny?” He reached for her hand and found it clammy. “Ginny, what is it? Is something wrong? You’re not… sick or anything, are you?” Cold fear gripped his heart. All this time he had worried that he was putting her in danger. Could it be possible that something else was wrong? Wouldn’t he have felt it?
“No, nothing like that,” she said softly. She knew she was scaring him but she couldn’t help it. There was reason to be scared.
“Then what?” Something was seriously wrong. He could feel it.
“What do you know about life bonds?”
Harry blinked. Why was she talking about that now?
“Not much, I suppose,” he admitted, perplexed. “I never even heard of them before this happened between us. What does that have to do with anything?”
“Did you never wonder why they call it a life bond?” she asked patiently, already knowing his answer.
“Well… no,” he admitted. He saw her tense up and added hastily, “I’ve had a lot going on in my life, remember?”
She sighed audibly. “I know.”
“So what are they, exactly?” he asked apprehensively.
“Life bonds are complicated magic. They are the oldest recorded naturally occurring spell in the history of witchcraft and wizardry, dating back to ancient times. Essentially, a life bond is just that — a bond for life. When a witch or wizard saves the life of another witch or wizard, sometimes a life bond is established.” She looked at him very hard, wondering if he was going to make the connection.
“But I didn’t — Ohhh…” He shut his mouth and stared at her, horrified. “The Chamber?”
“Yes, Harry. The Chamber.”
“But why didn’t it happen three years ago? Why now?” he asked.
She shrugged. “Maybe we were too young. It didn’t really hit home what you did for me until that night at your aunt and uncle’s. Before then, I just tried to put it out of my mind. After we shared that dream and the whole parseltongue business, and became so close, it all just sort of fell into place how much I owed you. When Riddle tried to take over your mind that night, I remember thinking how much I cared about you — how much I owed you — and that I’d do anything to help you. Anything.” Her last words were deadly serious.
“Why do I get the feeling there’s more?” he asked warily.
Ginny continued, wondering how he was going to react. “We’re connected now, Harry. Our life forces — our very souls — are connected. That’s why we can feel each other’s emotions. Usually it’s one sided but in some cases between two people who really care about each other, maybe even love each other, it can go both ways. We can feel each other’s emotions, but I have a feeling I feel your emotions more than you feel mine.”
“How do you know?”
“You are in every breath I take, Harry. Every moment I am awake, I feel you. Your feelings are so strong in my mind, I don’t know which are mine and which are yours. Can you say the same?”
Harry flushed guiltily. “No, not really. I mean, I feel you with me all the time. But now that I have so much protection and since I’ve build up my Occlumency skills a bit, it’s harder to feel you unless I’m really upset. Today I had to go beyond the wall to connect with you. But whenever I need you, you’re there. Whenever I need support or to calm myself down, I feel you the strongest.”
“That’s the bond. My debt requires that I share my life force with you. I sustain you and keep you strong.”
“What about you?” he asked, concerned. “How does this affect you?”
“It depends on how badly you’re hurting,” she confessed. “Usually I just absorb your anger or tension. I’ve been snapping at my family and Hermione quite a bit lately. When it’s the worst I just stay away from everyone to spare them. I think they understand and are giving me my space. I also have the sudden urge to be alone quite a bit, which is the opposite of what I usually want. I’m a right loner, now. Not unlike someone else I know….” Her mouth twisted in a smile.
“It’s not funny,” Harry said, frowning.
“I know.” Her smile disappeared and she became sombre once again.
“After you were taken away I knew how serious this was. I felt you dying Harry. I felt you fading away, and at the same time I knew I was dying, too. That’s the purpose of the magic. You thwarted death by saving my life. That debt will not be paid until I give my life back to you.”
Harry felt cold inside. She didn’t mean what he thought she meant, did she? Surely he must be wrong. “Do you mean to say that if I die, you’ll…?” He couldn’t finish. The lump in his throat had dropped to his stomach and he thought he might be sick.
“…take your place,” she finished for him. “Instead of you dying, I will.”
“No.”
Ginny could feel his panic and guilt and it pained her.
“No,” he repeated more forcefully. “I-I won’t let you. Take it back. I don’t want it!”
“Harry, I-” she started to protest, but he cut her off abruptly. His voice held a slight violent tone, full of pure terror.
He grabbed her by the arms and shook her, desperately tying to shake some sense into her. “Don’t you hear me? I said, I DON’T WANT IT! TAKE IT BACK!”
“I CAN’T!” she yelled back, jerking away. “I can’t. Even if I wanted too, I couldn’t. It’s done. There’s no going back now; the ancient magic is binding. We are connected for LIFE. Until my debt is paid, you’re stuck with me!”
“Stuck with you?” Harry said hysterically. “Stuck with you! Ginny… I couldn’t live with myself knowing that I caused you harm - that my living caused you to die! Voldemort wants me dead, for God’s sake!” He raked a hand through his hair, which seemed to be standing on end.
“Merlin, Ginny! I have to kill or be killed by him. Did you know that?” he asked tiredly, knowing very will that she didn’t. “That’s what the prophecy said. I will most likely die by the hand of that monster! Do I have to watch you die first? Because if I have to do that, Gin, I know I can’t win. I’d have no reason left to fight!”
Ginny sucked in a sharp breath. “Don’t say that!” she said, appalled. “You have plenty of reasons to fight.” He looked at her doubtfully, tears threatening to spill.
Ginny held his gaze, even though it was painful to see him so distraught. Her voice was hard and definite. “The world needs you, Harry Potter! I’m nothing… nobody! If I can help-”
“You’re wrong,” he said, shaking his head vigorously. “You’re everything to me. Please don’t do this…”
“You, Harry,” she said, poking him in the chest. “You’re our hope, not me. Ever since I was a little girl and first heard the story, I always knew that one day I would meet you and when I did, you were everything I dreamed of. Selfless, noble, brave — a true hero.”
He started to protest but she stopped him with her hand over his mouth. “I know what you’re going to say and stop it. No matter what you think, it’s true. If I can play a part in making sure you beat that monster, then I’m going to do it!”
“I can’t watch you die.” He sounded lost, pitiful. Vulnerable. It was almost a sob and it tore her heart to see him in this much pain. “I don’t want to lose you.”
Her face twisted in a smile. “Then don’t die.”
He laughed in spite himself, a tortured, reluctant sort of laugh. “Brilliant advice,” he said sarcastically. “Don’t die, Harry. I never would have thought of that on my own.”
She laughed along with him, marvelling that they could find any humour in the situation. “They always say females are the more clever ones.”
Harry’s heart filled with that same unnameable emotion that he often got when he was around her and he thought he felt the same thing radiating back at him from her. It was warm and wonderful, but scary all at the same time.
“Do you feel that, Ginny?” he asked in amazement. “What is that, do you suppose?”
She looked at him in surprise. “Don’t you know?” she asked gently.
He shook his head, mystified. He’d only ever felt that emotion when he was with her. It felt familiar but he couldn’t name it. Somehow he knew that he had felt it before, long ago, but it was like an echo and entirely too vague to remember.
“It’s love, Harry. Love..."
The shock hit him like a speeding train. He felt himself being thrust out of his safe world and slammed into the cold reality. He was utterly spent, emotionally. As he lay in the darkness, all alone, he thought about everything he had learned, feeling the weight of it pressing down on him. There was too much to comprehend.
He reached for his phoenix pendent and once again heard Fawkes’ haunting melody in his head, soothing away the worries and doubt. After a long time, sleep claimed him again, but this time he was armed with the knowledge that he was no longer alone in the world. He had Ginny. He loved Ginny and she loved him back. That thought was enough to make him smile through the fear, as he fell into a troubled slumber.
***
Alone in his room, Stephen paced wildly like a caged animal. How could he let this happen? He had successfully kept everyone he knew, both before and after his family was taken, at a distance. But in the short time Harry had been here, he had let down his guard and allowed himself to care.
Dumbledore. Damn him!
Why did he have to send the boy here, to him? He could have chosen anyone else, but he had sought him out and now Hunter found himself in a quandary. He couldn’t just leave Harry to face all this on his own. If it had been Adam, wouldn’t he want James or someone else to look out for his son in his absence? As far as he could tell, Harry had no one except for a handful of loyal friends and an old man who had already proven untrustworthy. There was no one in his life to guide him and prepare him for what was to come.
Damn him!
He paced some more, practically wearing a hole in his floor. Hunter knew his role was to lookout for the boy, but it had never really occurred to him what that meant. Was he prepared to do this?
Agreeing to go home was one thing, but he still had a quagmire of issue to face upon his return. He couldn’t simply just waltz back to England and Hogwarts without thinking this through. Was he really prepared to face Dumbledore again, after all these years? Could he do it?
He cried out in anguish. Why did it all have to be so complicated!
Throwing himself down on his bed, he threw an arm over his face and tried to clam his jumping nerves. If he were really honest with himself, he knew what was bothering him the most.
Harry.
He sighed and ran a hand through his hair nervously. Harry was a mess. James would be so worried and yet so proud of his son, if he could see the young man Harry had become. He felt a sense of responsibility to him. James had saved his life. He had a debt to pay and, heaven help him, he wanted to do it.
Cold fear gripped him like an iron fist. What if Harry lost? Could he take losing someone he cared about all over again, like he had lost Mariah and Adam and so many others? Should he take that chance?
Stephen closed his eyes. One image floated there, just beyond reach.
Voldemort’s icy cold eyes taunted him.
White hot rage burned through him at the thought of that monster running free, waiting to murder other innocent women and children.
Yes, he had a role to play.
He jumped out of bed abruptly and fumbled around on his desk for a piece of paper. Whistling softly out the open window, he watched as Zeus swooped from a nearby tree and landed gracefully on the sill.
“Are you up for a trip, old man?”
Zeus hooted indignantly and flew over to the desk, cuffing Hunter on the back of his head with his broad wing. He stood regally on a tall stack of books staring at him, his wide amber eyes blinking expectantly. If Hunter didn’t know better, he’d swear the bird was smiling.
“I suppose it has been quite some time since I gave you a job, hasn’t it?” He stroked his old friend’s sleek feathers affectionately. “Just give me a moment to collect my thoughts.” He sighed. “This is a hard letter for me to write, you know.”
Zeus clicked his beak in understanding.
Hunter handed him an owl treat. “I hope you’re up for another long trip. The letter is addressed to the Headmaster of Hogwarts, Albus Dumbledore.”
The days flew by in a whirl with a heavy training schedule that included hand to hand combat, sword fighting, and physical endurance. Harry and Stephen had their talk and Harry finally came to the conclusion that he had to stay on the island a little longer in order to boost his abilities. After his talk with Ginny, he knew it was even more important to keep Voldemort out of his head. He no longer felt the need to take chances with his life, since it was not just his life he was protecting now. He also stepped up his training and drove into it with a ferocity that surprised both Stephen and himself.
In the last couple of days, Harry had spent hours doing all sorts of physical activity. He swam, ran, and flew for hours on end. He had worked on his balance standing on a log suspended over a lagoon for hours, eventually getting to the point where he could do all sorts of moves without falling in. He had even worked on improving his already good eye/hand coordination by practicing throwing spells at projected beams of light. The beads of light moved faster even than a snitch, and he was hitting them with even greater accuracy than Stephen at this point. Anything that would make him faster and stronger was fine by him, and he constantly searched his textbooks for any sort of spells that could help him.
He and Hunter had also been working hard to discover exactly what his elemental abilities were and how far he could take them. So far they had tested small things like changing the temperature in the air or water, making a small breeze, bringing a plant back to health, manipulating dirt and water into various shapes, and lighting small fires with his fingertips. Everything Hunter had asked him to do, Harry was able to accomplish after a short amount of practice. It felt good to be doing something so extraordinary and he felt some hope for the first time that maybe, just maybe, he might have a chance against Tlaloc and Voldemort.
Many days he suspected Stephen wanted to confront him about how hard he was pushing himself, but he always managed to avoid the conversation. He just wasn’t ready to talk to anyone yet. He had even avoided thinking of Ginny, afraid that he might get transported into her mind or dreamwalk into her dream. He still longed to see her, but he had so much to think about, he needed time to make sense of it before he saw her again. He could still feel her emotions from time to time though, and was comforted by the fact that she seemed to be alright.
It took several days, but finally, after a very gruelling swordfight that resulted in Harry beating his mentor for the first time since beginning his training, Stephen finally cornered him about his odd behaviour.
“What’s gotten into you recently, Harry?”
“I’m not sure what you mean,” Harry said evasively, panting slightly from the heat and exertion. He had won, but Stephen had put up a good fight. They had magically charmed their swords to not harm each other for the sake of training. In that way, they could truly concentrate on the fight without worrying they were going to accidentally wound or kill the other.
“You stay up late studying and rise before the sun to run on the beach or do callisthenics - even before we begin our morning training. Instead of sleeping in the afternoon, I see you practicing your magic until it’s time for you to train with Chac. Then you go off on your own exploring the island or flying your broom, taking your spellbooks with you. If you keep up this pace you’re going to burn yourself out.”
“I don’t have much of a choice Hunter,” Harry answered irritably. “Aren’t you the one that said it was time to grow up? If I’m to have any hope of protecting myself against Tlaloc or Voldemort, I have to push myself to learn as much as possible as quickly as possible.” He threw down his damp towel and stalked away angrily.
Hunter jogged to catch up. “There’s no need to get shirty with me, Harry. I was only saying it out of concern for your mental and physical wellbeing. I think you’re pushing your mind and body too hard. By the time the game comes round, you’re going to be worn out. That’s all.”
Harry stopped abruptly. “Don’t worry. I’ll be ready,” he bit out tersely.
Hunter laid a hand on Harry’s shoulder in a fatherly way, quiet confidence embedded in his weather-worn face. “I know you will be. I’d just hate to see you make a stupid mistake because you hadn’t taken care of yourself properly. If you keep this up you could get ill, and then where would we be? The game is next week and soon after that it’ll be time to go home. You should think about conserving your energy for the match.”
Harry made a non-committal noise in the back of his throat and nodded his head in acknowledgement, but did not agree to stop training so hard. Hunter didn’t understand that he had a very good reason for learning all these new spells and building up his endurance. He was not about to be ambushed again by Tom or anyone else and risk getting hurt or killed. Ginny’s life was at stake and he would not let her down.
Hunter’s very sharp eyes picked up on the fact that Harry was not listening and decided to take a very drastic step in order to make the boy slow down. “I know of something that can help you focus your mind better, increase you senses, and improve your performance in every aspect of your life — and make you take it easy. Interested?”
Harry’s ears perked up at the offer. “Of course.”
“Hear me out first, Harry, before you make up your mind,” Stephen warned him. “This is a very intensive kind of training. I first learned it in Auror training. Psychologically, it will be very challenging. I’m not really sure you’re up for it, although it could help you a great deal in the ballgame.”
“Er… okay,” he said slowly. “What is it, then?”
“It’s a form of sensory deprivation. Did you know that when a person loses their senses, the other senses increase to compensate for the one that is lost?”
“Like when a person goes blind, they suddenly can hear much sharper?” Harry said.
Hunter nodded. “Exactly. This spell deprives you of the senses one by one and then returns them to you, one by one. The result should increase your perception of the world, essentially “tuning” you to focus on what others may miss. It has the added benefit of enhancing your ability to see magic all around you, which opens your mind up to a whole other plane where you can actually see the magic forming. Depending on how long you’re able to withstand the effects of the spell, you should be able to anticipate the type of spells being thrown at you and prepare an effective block or counter curse. The longer you’re under, the greater the effects.”
“How long do I have to be under it before that happens?”
Hunter shrugged. “The longest I ever heard was three days. The bloke who lasted that long turned out to be one of the fastest duellers in the history of the academy.”
Harry raised an eyebrow at Hunter’s grin. “What happened to him?”
“You’re looking at him.”
Harry tucked this bit of information in the back of his mind and asked, “So, when can we start?”
“Are you sure about this?”
Harry nodded his head. If Hunter could last three days, he would make sure to last four.
“How about tomorrow morning?”
“Sounds good. I’ll make the arrangements.”
Pronunciation guide
Xolotl: She-o-LO-tl
Quetzal: ket-SAL
Quetzalcoatl: ket-sal-CO-atl
Tezcatlipoca: tez-ca-tli-PO-ca
Tlilli Tlapalla: t-lil-li tla-pa-la
Tecuhtl: te-COO-tl
Masaya: ma-SA-ya
Tlaloc: TLA-lock
Chac: ch-ock
Chuen: chew-en
Popol Vuh: po-pol VOO
Mixtec: mix-TE-ca
Xian: she-I-an
Ehecailacozcatl: e-e-kai-la-KOS-katl
[A/N: Sorry for the mix-up with the duplicate chapters last time. Unfortunately, I had to delete the story and resubmit it. That was the only way I could see to fix the problem.
Again, if anyone wants to check out a new yahoo group based on the H/G ship, we now have one. It's http://groups.yahoo.com/group/hgfic/ and we need active members. We're striving to produce thoughtful reviews about our favourite stories. I also have a new story archived there that can only be found on the group website for now. It's a WIP. Check it out and let me know what you think. It's called Bring Me To Life and is a Post-Hogwarts R rated fic with four chapters so far. There's some other really talented authors archived there and anyone is welcome to join, so long as you're an H/G shipper.]
Chapter 9: Sensus Discessus Tempestium
Chapter EightSensus Discessus Tempestium
The next morning was overcast — a rare occurrence on the tropical island. “Looks like rain,” Hunter said as he observed the grey sky overhead. They were making their way through the village, winding down the deserted early morning cobblestone streets.
“Where are we going, exactly?” Harry asked irritably. He had missed his morning run and frankly could care less about the weather. Hunter had insisted that he get a good night’s rest before beginning this special training, and they had gotten up extra early to hike to the location they were to going to use. In his opinion, they were wasting precious time.
“The Mixtecs have a ritual sweatbath on the other side of the island,” he answered. “I thought it would be the ideal place for this experience. The natives call the sweatbath temascal, you know. It’s a sacred place for healing, rest, and purification. The one we’re going to employ for this exercise hasn’t been in use for quite awhile, but I’ve been assured it’s in perfect working order.”
“There you go again,” Harry said, rolling his eyes.
“What?” Hunter asked, puzzled.
“You should be a professor. You never miss an opportunity to throw something educational at me.”
“Sorry,” he said sheepishly. “It’s a habit.” They had walked in silence for a few minutes when he added, “I used to teach, you know.”
“No,” Harry said, surprised. “I didn’t. I thought you were an Auror.”
“I was,” he chuckled. “I know you’re young Harry but, believe it or not, people can do two things at once. I used to teach new recruits at the Auror Training Facility — when I wasn’t in the field, that is.”
“You ever consider teaching full time?” Harry asked.
Hunter pondered the question a moment before answering. “Sometimes,” he admitted. “But it would depend on the circumstances, I suppose. I sort of like my freedom.”
“You should think about it,” Harry told him. He would make a wicked Defence Against the Dark Arts teacher. Loads better than some he’d had.
They trudged on in silence, each lost in his own thoughts. They were nearing the part of the island where Harry had never been, and the terrain was getting rougher and rougher to navigate. The vegetation was very thick over here, the path not as well-worn.
Cresting the last hill, Harry saw a small building sitting in a clearing. On closer inspection, he was able to discern more details about the structure. It was a masonry building, obviously made to last the sweltering tropical heat and unpredictable weather. Small and square with a rounded chamber in back, it had similar decorations and carvings as the temple where Harry had met the Ancient Ones.
He and Stephen entered the structure and Harry was quite surprised at how roomy it was. Before entering, he was sure his head would touch the ceiling. He guessed it was magically enhanced to be bigger on the inside, much like the tents at the World Cup. In the centre of the floor lay a mat, large enough for a grown man to lie on comfortably with plenty of room to spare. Other than that, the room was bare of furnishings.
The walls, however, were far from bare. Every square inch was covered in drawings depicting all sorts of art he had come to expect from the people of this island. Harry stared at it in fascination.
“What’s it all mean?” he asked Hunter.
“Most of them are tributes to the Gods,” Hunter replied. “The Mixtecs believe this is a gateway to the underworld where the Gods live.”
“Hmmm…” Harry murmured as he walked around the room, trailing his hand from picture to picture. One drawing seemed to draw him in. He couldn’t take his eyes away from it. “Who is this one?”
Hunter looked at him in surprise. “That’s Quetzalcoatl, Harry. Or at least it’s the Mixtec’s version of him.”
Harry jerked his hand away as if he had been burned. How odd was it that he had been drawn to that picture? Deciding to think about it later, he turned to Hunter and asked him, “So how do we go about doing this spell?”
“You lay down on the mat and I cast the spell. Your body will self-sustain itself, sort of like hibernation, while you’re under. Once you come out of it though, you’ll be very hungry, so be prepared.”
“Where will you be?” Harry asked anxiously.
“I’ll be right outside. I’ve brought some camping gear and food with me,” he said, indicating his backpack, “and I should be alright for a few days. I’ve brought my books along to keep me busy.”
Harry nodded and lay down on the mat, setting his own backpack that contained a change of clothes next to him. He found the mat extremely soft, as soft as his feather mattress back in his room at Hunter’s. The older man handed him a pillow from his backpack, which he put under his head. “That should help with the neck soreness you might get from being immobile.”
“Thanks,” he said gratefully. He really was very comfortable — much more so than he had expected when he first set eyes on the woven reed mat.
Much to Harry’s surprise, Hunter drew out his wand. “This spell is very delicate and I feel more confident using my wand,” he explained after seeing Harry’s surprised expression. “I’ll say the incantation and you’ll feel a sort of pulling or jerking.” He produced a box with his wand. “Your senses will be removed and put in this box one by one. It can be very unpleasant for that to happen, so the spell takes them away gradually. When it senses you are ready, it returns them to you, one by one.”
“How does it know when I am ready?” Harry asked.
Hunter shrugged. “When your body has absorbed all the magic it can from the environment, it returns them to you gradually in much the same way so you will not be overwhelmed. Remember, Harry. Everything in the universe is made of magic. Witches and wizards are able to manipulate that magic, but it is a rare individual that can actually see it. The purpose of this spell is to tune your body to recognize and respond to that magic. It can be a very dangerous spell if not performed properly, and if I didn’t think you were powerful enough to handle it I wouldn’t even attempt it. Too much magic flooding into your body can have consequences.”
“Like?” Harry asked apprehensively.
“Stress can do funny things to the mind and body,” Hunter said with a small shrug. “It depends on the individual. But I’ve noticed your ability to focus your mind when your body is under pressure. This spell will work well with that characteristic. Some people don’t respond well to stressful situations. You, on the other hand, seem to have more trouble with more… interpersonal types of issues.”
Harry snorted in embarrassment. He wasn’t sure if he was offended or intrigued that Hunter seemed to know him so well in such a short time.
“This spell,” Hunter continued, “will give you a definite advantage over Tlaloc next week because, to my knowledge, the Mixtecs have nothing comparable. Just keep your mind focused and if you feel like you’re in trouble, call out. You may not hear yourself, but I will. I can empty the box and return your senses to you at any time.”
Harry nodded resolutely. “I’m ready.”
“All right, here goes,” Stephen said. Taking a deep breath, he raised his wand and pointed it at Harry.
“Sensus Discessus Tempestium.”
Harry felt a jerking and all of a sudden, the world went pitch black. It was like being locked inside his cupboard by Uncle Vernon as a child, but ten times blacker. He could sense absolutely nothing from his eyes. No shadow, no colour, no movement of any kind. He had never been particularly scared of the dark, but he had never been blind before either. He didn’t know how he felt about this — it was so strange that he involuntarily whimpered in surprise.
“All right, Harry?” Hunter asked, and Harry could hear the concerned edge in his voice.
“Yes,” he answered with difficulty.
“We can stop if you want. Just let me know…” Hunter started to say, but he felt another pulling and the voice faded into nothingness.
Not only was he blind now, but he was also deaf. He couldn’t hear anything… not one sound, no noise of any kind, not even his own breathing. If he had ever felt alone before, it was nothing compared to this feeling. He had never realised how much difference sound and sight made in his life.
A third pulling sensation removed his sense of smell. It was like having a nasty cold with a stuffy nose, only he was still able to breathe properly. He just couldn’t smell anything. A fourth pull resulted in his mouth feeling somewhat numb and he supposed that his sense of taste was now gone as well.
Harry gripped the mat in a vane effort to connect himself to the physical world, but soon even that was taken from him. The last and final pull severed all ties with his environment and left him in what was essentially a vacuum.
He had never thought about how the senses connected the body to the environment. He had the sensation of floating and he couldn’t tell if he was still lying on the ground or if he was somewhere else, in another world or time. He groped his arms around but could feel nothing. Involuntarily, he shivered but he was not cold. The black void was the only thing real and it was eating its way through his confidence, leaving him feeling naked and vulnerable.
An illogical panic enveloped him and his mind began to race through possible scenarios. He was helpless; if someone were to attack him he’d never know it in his present state. He was taking a big risk trusting Hunter. What did he know about him really? Perhaps this was all a big ruse to get him to let down his guard. Maybe the man was in league with Tlaloc or even Voldemort and was going to try to hurt him. What happened if this was permanent? He couldn’t possibly survive like this… Where was his constant vigilance? How could he be so stupid! He needed out.
He gulped for breath but still felt devoid of oxygen. Surely something must be wrong. He shouldn’t feel this panicked.
He was just about to start yelling when a now familiar feeling washed over him — Ginny.
It was pure relief and just what he needed. He could feel her strength and he held on to it like a lifeline. She was his anchor, his tie to the world. He concentrated his whole mind on the connection and felt himself calm as his sense of her deepened.
'What’s happening to you?' he heard her ask in a concerned, faraway voice. But at the same time it was as if she were standing right next to him.
He answered with his mind, not knowing if she would hear. 'Just stay with me for awhile. Don’t leave me.'
'Never…. I could never leave you, Harry. Never.'
He whimpered again, although he could not hear himself. Unknowingly, a tear formed in his eyes and slid down his face. Knowing that Ginny was there with him allowed him to settle into the blackness, confident that no matter what happened he was not alone.
Hopefully this bloody spell of Hunter’s would work. It had better be worth it, he thought as he drifted out of consciousness and into the land of dreams and memories.
***
Claire opened the door to her parent’s house and stepped aside for him to enter. “Dad won’t be home till late tonight, so we have the house to ourselves,” she said, flashing him a suggestive smile.
The snake knew that smile well. He had been on the receiving end of it often enough from Muggle women and witches alike. It always meant the same thing. He flashed a winning smile of his own and sidled up next to her, causing her to flush with pleasure.
“There’s nothing better than an empty house,” he said breathily, moving to catch her in a smouldering kiss.
When they parted she looked weak in the knees. “Either you have improved your technique since last weekend, Potter, or you were holding out on me.”
He leaned close and whispered in her ear, “Which do you think it is?”
“How about we try it again so I can think about it?” she said coyly.
Instead of answering, he moved in for another kiss that grew hotter as it progressed. Somehow they ended up on the sofa of the living room with things progressing rather quickly. The snake could feel the boy pulling at his mind, trying to take back control, but he was not going to get it. He was in charge now, and Potter was going to enjoy the show.
Unexpectedly, the girl pulled away. “Maybe we should slow down,” she said, gasping for breath.
That wasn’t what he wanted to hear. “Why would we want to do a thing like that?” he said, practically ignoring her. He moved in again, but she backed away.
“We barely know each other,” she insisted nervously. “And what about that red-head… your friend’s sister?”
“What about her?” His eyes raked over her blossoming body with open desire. It had been a long time and he wasn’t going to be denied what he wanted from this little Muggle whore.
“I got the impression the two of you were an item,” she persisted.
“So what if we are?” he said coldly. “Would that make a difference? I don’t care about you, and you sure as hell don’t care for me. Yet here we are. What’s so wrong with having a bit of fun?”
The girl stared at him hard. Her clear blue eyes seemed to consider what he said. Finally, she looked like she had come to a decision. “Nothing, I suppose.” Leaning into him again, she pulled him close. “Why are you so far away?”
He smiled inwardly at Potter’s rage as he resumed his activities. Ahh… so he is aware. Knowing this, the snake doubled his efforts, thoroughly enjoying the sickened but turned- on feeling he was getting from the boy.
‘Soon, Harry…’ he taunted the boy inside his mind, ‘soon it will all be over and I will see you destroyed as you should have been fifteen years ago. But first you’re going to watch while I have my way with your little friend here. When I’m finished with the little tart, I’m going to torture her for a bit and then, Harry… then I’ll kill her.’
He laughed at the boy’s panic upon hearing those words. ‘The world will be rid of one more Muggle before long and Harry Potter will get the blame. There’s nothing you can do to stop it, you know. They’ll send you to Azkaban or maybe even Muggle prison where that fool, Dumbledore, won’t be able to protect you. It’ll be all too easy to get to you then, and soon I’ll have my revenge for all the years I have suffered!’
The girl under him moaned as he did something that he knew would cause a reaction of pleasure and send her over the edge. “That’s it, luv,” he cooed, revelling in the power he had over the wench. “You’re mine now, aren’t you? You’ll do exactly what I want, won’t you, luv?”
“Yes!” Claire screamed.
At the same time, Harry screamed “NO!”
In a rush of power he emerged and snatched control once again. Feeling Tom fighting him, he stumbled away and yelled, “GET AWAY FROM ME!” He didn’t know if he was talking to Tom, Claire, or both but it had the desired effect nevertheless.
“Harry, what’s wrong?” Claire said, looking at him as if he had lost his mind. She sounded confused but at the same time shocked, and more than a little annoyed. “Don’t stop. Please…” she begged.
“DIDN’T YOU HEAR ME?” he shouted, backing away. “GET AWAY FROM ME!” He was shaking all over from the effort of keeping Tom away. If she didn’t listen, she’d be hurt or worse, and he couldn’t allow that to happen.
He stumbled backward and somehow found the door. Somewhere in his brain he heard her screaming to come back. She sounded like the angry Veela he had seen at the Quidditch World Cup, ugly and desperate, but he didn’t care. He had to get as far away from her as possible.
Blindly, he ran. He could feel Tom’s anger and his own horror at what he had almost allowed to happen and he ran even faster, trying to outrun the feelings of disgust and repulsion that were roiling though his stomach. He wanted to retch but didn’t have time. He needed to get away… to find help.
Down Wisteria Lane and Magnolia Crescent he ran, hoping to find an Order member or Mrs. Figg. Someone, anyone… He could feel an echo of Ginny, but he pulled away, not wanting her to know what he was — what he had almost done. How would she feel about him if she knew? She’d hate him and he couldn’t live with that. Not when he had just found her again.
He smacked into something hard and heard an “ooff,” but there was no one there. The street was empty. Grabbing his wand, he brandished it in front of him, hoping to ward off the unknown enemy or prepare himself for an impending attack.
“Harry!” he heard Tonks’ distinctive voice. “What’s wrong?”
Relief and shame exploded in him at the same time. “Tonks!” he panted. “Help me. Tom…”
‘Shut up or you’ll regret it!’ the snake hissed in his mind. ‘They’ll put you in St. Mungo’s for sure boy, and then where will you be? Kill her! Now, before it’s too late!’
Harry fought an internal battle. “No! You’re lying,” he yelled aloud to the snake, clutching his scar which was bursting with pain. “You’re trying to trick me!”
“Harry?” said Tonks carefully. She removed the invisibility cloak, revealing her concerned expression. She reached out to touch him but he jumped away.
“Get away!” he shouted. “Don’t touch me!” He pointed his wand at her and backed away. “Go Tonks, before I hurt you.”
Off in the distance he saw Bill Weasley running their way. Harry turned to flee but when he whipped around he found he was surrounded by people. Kingsley Shacklebolt was there, along with several others he barely recognized but knew to be Order members.
Tonks shouted to Kingsley, “Get Dumbledore, now!” and Harry watched helplessly as the tall, black Auror Disapparated. He tried to run through the gap, but before he had taken two steps someone stunned him from behind and he knew no more.
***
He awoke to blackness and for a moment he panicked, forgetting where he was and what had happened. Sweat was pouring off his forehead, but he couldn’t feel it. He lay there in the darkness breathing hard but not hearing his own breath. The sensation of floating was still strong and he was disoriented, both from the dream and from the spell.
He reached out his mind and thankfully felt Ginny still there with him, causing him to almost cry out in relief. Eventually, her gentle soothing succeeded in calming his frazzled nerves. He sent his own warm feelings back to her and silently thanked her for staying with him. What made her do it? From his perspective it was all one-sided. She gave everything to him but what did he give her in return? Nothing.
I betrayed her.
That realisation hit him like a sledgehammer. He had not been strong enough to stop Tom from using his body in a way that some sick part of him enjoyed. He could still feel Claire’s warm body pressed up against him, her kisses tender but passionate. She was a beautiful girl and some small part of him had wanted her as much as Tom had. Didn’t that make him as sick as the snake he despised?
Dizziness hit him hard and he flailed around for something to steady himself knowing he wouldn’t be able to feel anything, but surprisingly his hand hit something solid. His phoenix pendent… he could feel his phoenix pendent!
He gripped it tightly and Fawkes’ sweet music filled his heart. He could sense it filling his soul with light and chasing out the shadows. The song was otherworldly and not the kind of thing one could hear with one’s ears. It was steady and strong, full of purity and goodness. It filled him up and spewed out the ugliness.
Somewhere inside his mind he felt the snake screaming in pain as the phoenix song thrust him out of Harry’s body and back into his own. And that’s when he knew. Tom had wanted him to have that dream! He had wanted him to feel guilty for what had happened to Claire. He wanted to drive a wedge between Ginny and him because he knew that together they were more than dangerous than any foe he had ever faced.
He’s trying to manipulate me again with that dream, Harry thought, but this time it’s not going to work. I’m too strong for him now… and I’m getting stronger. He knew this with a certainty unlike anything he had ever known before.
He reached down and felt the rough mat under his palms and he felt tied to the ground for the first time since the spell had taken over his body. His hand moved a fraction of an inch and he felt the cool, silky dirt of the floor on his fingertips. His other hand gripped the soft cotton fabric of his tunic and he was aware of the sensation of it all over his body. He could feel the slightest of breeze on his face and the beads of sweat and tears rolling down his cheeks. He could even feel his breath on his lips as he breathed deeply, the air from his nostrils hitting his upper lip as he exhaled.
Even in the smallest movement, he marvelled, there was magic. He placed his hand on his chest and felt his heart beating. The cavity around his ribcage moved up and down in time to his breaths. Breathing itself was magic; feeling was magical. Magic was everywhere, in every fibre of every substance and in the simplest acts.
He lay there for what seemed like minutes but could have been hours or days, revelling in the feelings. Suddenly, something new caught his attention. A whiff of something… was that rain? He couldn’t hear anything and only had his sense of touch and now, obviously, smell to go on.
He sniffed the air. It smelled distinctly damp and musty. Either it was raining or it had just rained. He was certain of it. He could smell the sweet grass and the thickness of the air that comes after a heavy downpour. How had he never noticed these things before?
Some time later he began smelling another odour and he definitely knew what it was this time. Bacon. Hunter must be cooking. Thankfully, the spell kept him from getting hungry, but it was such an overpowering aroma that he licked his numb lips. Obviously the sense of taste had not returned yet.
After awhile, he drifted off into another dream, this one so real it seemed more like a vision than a dream.
***
He was in a room all of white. There was no source of light inside the room, rather the room itself seemed to be radiating light. He was all alone.
“Where am I?” he called out. His voice echoed off the barren walls and bounced back at him, causing him to jump.
“You are not alone, my son,” a soothing female voice said to him from the walls. It was warm and familiar, but he could not immediately place it. “You have never been alone. I’ve been with you every step of the way, just as I always will be.”
“Where are you?”
“I am where I belong.”
“Who are you?”
The voice grew impatient, like it was running out of time. “You must listen to me now, Harry. The world’s fate is in your hands. I’m so sorry that it had to be this way, but you were chosen for a purpose — a purpose even greater than we had imagined when you were born.”
Harry knew the voice. He knew it now because he had always known it. “Mum?” he said, swallowing hard. His head was reeling.
“Harry, listen…” Her voice was waning. “You must find the Key. You are very close now. It is imperative that you find it before Voldemort does. If he finds it first, you will lose.”
“But Mum… where is it? How do I find it when I don’t even know what I’m looking for?”
“You know what it is, Harry,” she said. Her voice sounded like fading music. “You know… Use your heart. It has not yet failed you. I’m so proud of you….”
The echo of the voice died and Harry felt his heart burst with sadness.
“Mum! Don’t leave me! I don’t want to be alone!”
“You aren’t alone,” a familiar male voice said in that same echoing reverberation. “We’re always here watching over you.”
Harry couldn’t believe his ears. “Sirius?”
“I haven’t got much time, Harry. I know you’ve been beating yourself up over my unfortunate death and I want you to stop. It was my time to go. You have to stop blaming yourself.”
“But if I hadn’t-”
“No, Harry,” Sirius’ voice said firmly. “It was my choice. You have too many things to worry about other than me. I’m happy where I am. It’s time you concentrate on getting through this so that you can get on with your life and start living. That’s how you can honour my memory, Harry. Not by feeling guilty or angry, but by living.”
His godfather’s voice was fading now too. “I-I’ll try,” he said with difficulty. “Don’t go, Sirius!”
“I’m sorry I couldn’t stick around to see you beat him. But I’m watching. Remember….” And he too was gone.
The tears were now flowing freely down his cheeks and he wasn’t surprised when he heard the third voice.
“Son.”
Harry stiffened. He knew who it was. It was the same voice from Snape’s Pensive — his father’s. Now it was gentle and kind and somehow Harry knew he was hearing his real father, not the distant echo of another person’s worst memory.
“Dad? Is that you?”
“Yes,” he said hesitantly. “Harry, I know you don’t think much of me right now-”
“Don’t say that!” Harry yelled at the voice. “I do understand. Really I do. Snape is a git and no better than Malfoy! Who am I to judge you? Look at the things I’ve done.”
The voice seemed to smile. “You’re right about one thing, Harry. Snape is a git. But please don’t compare your situation to mine. No one was controlling me when I did those things. I had to learn those lessons all on my own the hard way. What Tom has done to you is not your fault.”
“I betrayed Ginny,” he whispered. “I almost hurt people.”
“You didn’t,” his father said. “Listen to Ginny. She’ll tell you.”
“Dad,” he said, wiping the wetness from his cheeks. “I’m sorry I didn’t understand before.” It was getting darker and his father’s voice was wavering.
“That’s okay, Harry. I’m sorry I disappointed you. I love you son…. Tell Stephen… I said… thank you….” he called out as he drifted away into nothingness.
“I love you too, Dad. I miss you,” he whispered as the light of the room was swallowed up by the darkness. “I miss all of you more than you’ll ever know.”
***
Harry wallowed in his melancholy after the dream for a long time until he began to hear sounds all around him. At first he thought it was his imagination, but gradually it became clearer so there was no doubt. It started with the thunder. He supposed it must have rained after all. He made a noise in the back of his throat and was surprised that he could hear himself. It seemed like a long time since he had heard anything.
“Ahh… he is finally awake,” an unfamiliar voice hissed beside him. Harry jumped in surprise and groped for his wand, forgetting about his magical bands in his haste.
“Who’s there? What do you want?”
“I am called Macoa. I am here to help you find what you need. Did the Ancient Ones not tell you I was coming?”
Harry shook his head, cursing his blindness. He vaguely recalled something, but it was all very unclear. He jumped when unexpectedly, he felt something cold and scaly slither over his bare arm. “Are you a snake?”
“Yess…” the voice said, winding its way up his arm and around his neck. She flicked his ear with her tongue.
“Stop doing that,” he told the snake irritably. “It tickles.”
He felt the snake withdraw obediently and slither back around his neck just as pounding footsteps outside the hut announced the arrival of someone else.
“Harry,” he heard Hunter growl in a low, menacing voice, “don’t move a muscle.”
“Huh?” Harry said, instinctively turning towards Hunter’s voice and upset Macoa. He wasn’t sure how he knew Hunter was standing just inside the door, but he could feel a strong presence of magic in that direction.
“I said, don’t move!”
Harry froze. “What’s wrong?”
“There is an unfriendly human in the room,” Macoa hissed angrily. Harry felt her rear up to strike but he knew she wouldn’t attack unless ordered. “Shall I kill him for you?”
“No!” he said quickly in Parseltongue. “It’s fine. The human is my friend. He thinks you’re trying to hurt me.” He felt the snake grow docile again and return to slithering around his body, probably looking for a warm spot to lie.
“You can put your wand down, Hunter,” Harry told him, knowing Stephen had it out and pointed at him. He still couldn’t see anything but he didn’t need to. “I think I’ve just made a new friend.” He heard Stephen lower his arm and shift uncomfortably on his feet.
“Are you sure that thing is safe?” he heard the older man say uncertainly.
“Her name is Macoa,” Harry said in response, “and she was sent to me by the Ancient Ones. At least, that’s what she says. I don’t have much experience with snakes, but I think she’s here to help.”
“How do you know it’s a female?” Hunter asked warily.
Harry shrugged. He didn’t know how he knew, but he was certain it was the truth. “The same way I know she won’t hurt you unless I tell her. I just know.”
Hunter still seemed uncomfortable but didn’t ask any more questions about the snake. Harry noticed that he did not come any closer either, and still appeared to be on guard. “How are you coming with the spell?”
“I’ve got touch, smell, and sound back but nothing yet on taste or sight,” Harry answered, sitting up. He felt Macoa slither back up his arm and around his neck again, lifting the longish hair on the nape of his neck. “How long have I been out?”
“Three days,” Hunter answered distractedly.
Harry felt his jaw drop slightly in shock. “No kidding…” he said lamely. “It didn’t seem that long.”
“You didn’t miss much,” Hunter said. “It’s been raining the whole time. I even had to bunk out in here for awhile.” He paused and Harry had the impression he wanted to ask him something but was hesitant.
“Just spit it out, Hunter,” he said mildly. “I know you have something on your mind.”
Harry could almost see Hunter grimace. “It seems this little experiment is working,” he said sarcastically. “You’re senses are definitely growing sharper. It’s just that I’ve heard some things… you were calling out in your sleep.”
Harry stiffened. “What did I say?”
“I couldn’t make sense of most of it, but you seemed disturbed about something. Is there anything you want to talk about?”
“No.”
“Harry-”
“I said no. I had some bad dreams, that’s all it was.” He ran a hand nervously through his hair, hoping that Hunter would drop it. He needed some time to think about what he had seen before he told anyone.
As if sensing his discomfort, he felt his new companion flick her tongue lovingly on his hand just before she curled her body around it. Amazingly, some of the tension left his body. It was strange how connected he felt to this snake. He never thought he’d say that about anything with scales and a forked tongue, but Macoa was different. He didn’t understand it, but she felt familiar, like he had known her for a very long time.
Switching gears, Hunter asked him in an uncharacteristic, strangled voice, “Are you hungry yet?”
“What’s wrong with you?” Harry retorted irritably.
“I don’t like bloody snakes is all,” Hunter replied in an angry voice. “Reminds me of Slytherins. Can’t you get rid of it?”
Harry hissed quietly to his new friend and she disappeared inside his backpack he had abandoned alongside the mat. He heard her make herself comfortable among his extra clothes.
“Is that better?”
Hunter seemed to breathe a sigh of relief. “Not really,” he muttered, but Harry’s keen hearing caught it anyway. Louder, he said, “How about having something to eat? You probably won’t taste it, but you won’t be so hungry once the spell is complete if you eat now.”
Harry really had no interest in food, but he thought it best to follow Stephen’s advice. “Sure.”
Harry managed to swallow some broth but that was all. Without his sense of taste his salivary glands refused to work properly and anything solid stuck in his throat. Even water felt foreign in his mouth. He wasn’t aware water even had a taste, but he nearly choked on his first attempt to drink.
His blindness, though, was by far the worst effect of the whole experience. So many things he had taken for granted… In his present condition, he had trouble moving about and performing even the simplest tasks. Mostly he just stayed still and listened to the sounds around him. At times, he even imagined he could see the things he was hearing, although they were more like coloured energy masses that cut through the darkness rather than true forms.
His hearing was growing so sensitive he could decipher the smallest movement and the direction it came from. He and Stephen spent some time testing this, before his teacher suggested they move on to some training the next day, even if he hadn’t gotten his sight back.
“It seems a shame to waste valuable time,” Stephen apologized as they sat around the fire that evening. “The match is coming up soon and this spell is dragging on.”
Harry grinned. “You expected me to fold after one day, didn’t you?”
“No, Harry,” Stephen said. “You give yourself too little credit. But we are moving into the forth day and you have two more senses to go. Sight is almost always the last thing to return, but there’s no timetable. I’ve never heard of anyone lasting four days, but you seem to have a propensity for breaking the rules.”
Harry snorted. “So I’ve been told.”
“Yes, well… we are running out of time. We need to get back to training. I also need to return to the village and check in with Tecuhtl, but the trail is too rough and you will have trouble navigating it. But I’ve had an idea how we can manage it.” Harry could hear the sly tone embedded in his otherwise normal voice.
“What do you have in mind?”
“I thought we would Apparate.”
“Come again?” Hunter couldn’t have said what he thought he said.
“Apparate. You know… disappear from one place and reappear somewhere else.” Harry was annoyed to hear the teasing in his mentor’s voice.
“Yes, I know what Apparition is, Hunter,” Harry retorted sharply. “But, as I’m sure you very well know, I’ve never done it before.”
“Are you sure about that?” Stephen asked. He seemed to know something Harry did not.
“I think I’d remember something like that,” he answered dryly.
“When we were having one of our Occlumency sessions,” Hunter said carefully, “I could have sworn I saw you do it once before. You couldn’t have been more than ten. A group of rather large boys were chasing you down an alleyway near some rubbish bins and you suddenly found yourself on a rooftop. Do you remember?”
Harry didn’t know what to say. That had happened, and he couldn’t explain it any better now than he could then. But strange things always used to happen to him back then.
“Are you saying I Apparated there?” he asked, disbelievingly.
“That’s what I’m saying.”
“But what about the Ministry? I’m barely sixteen.”
“Harry, you have been doing magic the entire time you’ve been here. Do you think the Ministry has the ability to track you halfway around the world? Besides, the wards on this island protect it from any sort of detection. That was one of the reasons I brought you here.”
Harry’s blind eyes gleamed and he smiled slowly. “How difficult is it to learn?”
Hunter clapped his hands sharply and shot up. “That’s the Gryffindor spirit! I knew you’d be up for the challenge! It’s not really that difficult once you get the hang of it. But it does take concentration. Many people get themselves splinched because they haven’t focused properly on exactly where they intend to end up.”
Harry heard him moving about the campsite excitedly and he listened to a very long and detailed lecture on the theory of Apparition. What it all boiled down to was willpower. One focused their thoughts on where they wanted to be and then willed themselves to go there.
They decided to begin the practical application first thing in the morning. Bunking out in the temascal seemed to be the best solution given the still damp ground, but Harry was certain Hunter was not crazy about sharing his personal space with a snake, so Macoa agreed to keep clear of him and stay out of sight. It wasn’t long before Harry heard the unmistakable sounds of snoring coming from the area of the hut occupied by Hunter. Because of the racket Stephen was making, along with his increased sensitivity to sound, he found it nearly impossible to sleep. That was fine by him. He had a lot to think about anyway. He did manage a few fitful hours of sleep in the end, however, once Hunter’s snores subsided.
Rising early, they decided to start small by having him Apparate only a few feet, but the first time he attempted it he found it difficult. “Just remember the feeling you had just before you Apparated on that roof, Harry,” Stephen advised him. “Concentrate on that feeling and do it.”
Unfortunately because of his blindness, he couldn’t quite picture his surroundings and where he was supposed to end up. Then Stephen had the idea of having him Apparate inside the temascal. To his great surprise, it worked. Once he had done this several times from various locations around the campsite, Stephen thought he was ready to try to make it a further distance.
Harry gathered up Macoa and quietly explained to her what they were about to do. He gulped nervously, but his new friend glided up his arm and down his neck, hissing her reassurances that he would be fine. Part of her job, she explained, was to protect him and she was not about to allow him to splinch himself on her first day.
Harry felt much better after this and, after a moment’s hesitation, closed his eyes and willed himself to appear in the courtyard of Stephen’s villa. Unlike Portkeys or Floo Powder, he found his landing pleasantly smooth.
He heard a soft ‘pop’ beside him, and then Stephen’s voice.
“Congratulations, Mr. Potter. You have just passed your Apparition exam. You are now fully licensed to Apparate illegally upon you return to England.”
Harry went to bed that night in his own room after a hard day of training, exhausted but excited, with Macoa curled up next to his body. Apparition was wonderful! He hoped desperately that Ginny was sleeping so that he could tell her what he had accomplished. In the excitement of it all, he had practically forgotten his strange dreams inside the temascal. In any case, he decided he’d think about those things later when the ball game was over.
With any luck, tomorrow his sight would return and he could get back to the business at hand… surviving.
Pronunciation guide
Xolotl: She-o-LO-tl
Quetzal: ket-SAL
Quetzalcoatl: ket-sal-CO-atl
Tezcatlipoca: tez-ca-tli-PO-ca
Tlilli Tlapalla: t-lil-li tla-pa-la
Tecuhtl: te-COO-tl
Masaya: ma-SA-ya
Tlaloc: TLA-lock
Chac: ch-ock
Chuen: chew-en
Popol Vuh: po-pol VOO
Mixtec: mix-TE-ca
Xian: she-I-an
Ehecailacozcatl: e-e-kai-la-KOS-katl
Temascal: te-MA-scal
Macoa: ma-CO-a
[A/N: Thanks again to everyone who is reading and especially those of you who take the time to review. Thanks also to Arnel for beta reading this chapter and Melindaleo for all her help and encouragement.]
Chapter 10: Masaya
Chapter NineMasaya
It took another full day for Harry’s sense of taste to return, and two more days before he saw the glimmer of light. By then, he had grown quite adapt at managing without his sight, even when he didn’t get help from Macoa.
The snake had set up permanent residence around his neck, except when he was training; during those times her presence was too cumbersome, so she normally stayed in his bag or back in his room catching a nap in the sun. He worried about how she was going to take the change in climate when they returned to England and Hogwarts, but she didn’t seem to be concerned. She said she would adapt to any climate he was in, given time.
Strangely, Stephen had not commented on her presence at all since the first day, and Harry did not draw attention to his new friend. Stephen was either ignoring her or he didn’t know she was there. Macoa told him she had a talent for remaining unseen when she wanted to, and it was clear that Stephen was slightly afraid of her. Harry didn’t want to press the issue; it was enough that she was nearby. Although it wasn’t the same sense of completeness he got when he was with Ginny, it was close. Macoa had quickly become an extension of himself, and he relied on her in many different ways. She was his eyes in his temporary blindness, and his company when he was alone. He found himself telling her all sorts of things he had never admitted to anyone. For a snake, she was very perceptive and a patient listener.
He was glad Stephen had suggested the spell, even though it had taken precious time away from his training. The initial effects of the spell had grown. His hearing was so keen he could literally hear a pin drop if he concentrated, but that wasn’t the best effect. His magic had also compensated, and he was more in tune with his surroundings than he had ever been in his entire life. He could feel the magic all around him, learning its nuances… its different characteristics.
For instance, Stephen’s magic pulsated off him in great waves and increased when he was angry or frustrated. He was almost able hear the power radiating from his teacher as they duelled; it was an amazing thing to bear witness to, and sometimes left him speechless. Stephen’s magic was like a big blob of power pooling around him wherever he went, and Harry could usually tell when Hunter was close just by using these extra senses because his magic preceded him wherever he went.
Other things besides people had their own brand of magic. He found that every living thing was surrounded by a life force that differed depending on its nature. House plants and greenery that grew in the courtyard had a tame, controlled sort of aura, but the plants that grew wild on the island literally pulsed with life.
Hunter had taken him back to his balancing log, which was on the edge of the jungle, and the moment they Apparated there he had been overwhelmed by the powerful magic surrounding him. It was no wonder he had been drawn to the place. Hunter explained that the island itself had been created by the Ancient Ones, and that the jungle still retained remnants of that old magic. Understanding it made little difference, however, until he learned to master the feelings and perfect the concentration it took to filter out the important information from the unimportant.
That was the trick, he’d found. Control.
So much of his life had been about control, in one way or another. The Dursleys had tried to contain and control him from the beginning. Once he came to Hogwarts, he had unknowingly placed himself under the control of Dumbledore. Adults in his life — with the best of intentions, of course — controlled him by what they were willing to tell him, for his own good. Then there was Voldemort who outright wanted to possess him…
He had to control his temper, master his feelings, and calm his mind. Control, in his life, was a necessary but elusive thing. It teased and tormented him, aggravated by his current situation but coming within inches of his grasp nonetheless. Slowly, painstakingly, he was mastering the beast and he knew that once it was mastered, it would take a great force to undo it.
Then there was the Dark. That was another beast to conquer, and one he had no idea how to combat. He had never been particularly frightened of the darkness before, but his prolonged blindness had instilled in him a niggling feeling of unease surrounding the dark. He wasn’t sure what it was, exactly, that bothered him so much, but it did. It was like a nameless, faceless enemy that resided all around him and inside him, as well. It lived and breathed, and it never slept.
He remembered the warnings of the Ancient Ones. 'Beware of the Shadow. The Shadow of the Serpent is your greatest weakness.' Was this the thing they were warning him about?
He tried not to dwell on it too much, but every time he stopped to rest, he could feel it approaching, like a lethifold, gliding over the earth looking for innocent victims to prey on. It frightened him, causing shivers to run up and down his spine and the hairs on the back of his neck to stand on end. He dealt with it by staying busy until he practically collapsed from exhaustion, and fell into a dreamless sleep.
On the positive side, his spell work was better than ever. He was performing very complicated and powerful spells with ease and even transfiguration was coming along nicely. He had recently begun to master the sort of animation transfiguration spells Dumbledore had used in the atrium of the Ministry of Magic in June, but he was not as proficient with them as the Headmaster. However, thanks to the spell and these new abilities, he was holding his own with Chac in their daily matches — even blind. He found he didn’t really need to see the spells because he could feel them.
When his sight returned fully, he was both relieved and amazed. The spell had a profound effect on the way he saw the world. He had always heard of people seeing auras, but he didn’t understand until now. Everywhere he looked, he saw magic. It was like looking through a pair of glasses for the first time and seeing the world in crystal clear focus. He marvelled at everything from Macoa’s sleek greenish body flowing with magic, its unusual colouring perfect for blending in with any environment, to the ability to sense what spell Chac was going to throw at him before he even said the incantation.
Through all this he tried hard to keep his mind fixed on his training and off Ginny. He hadn’t spoken to her since the night in the temascal when she had stayed with him, and he had been avoiding her at night on purpose. He still hadn’t come to grips with his realisation that he was in love with her, or that she was willing to give her life for him. But the real reason he had avoided her was his betrayal. He knew in his head that what had almost happened with Claire was not his fault, but he still felt terrible about it. Somehow, he should have done more to stop Tom from using him like he did and letting it get that far. He should have stopped him sooner. Even though he hadn’t done anything too terrible, on some level he had enjoyed having that power over Claire, and that made him feel sick to his stomach. Ginny deserved to be with someone stronger, someone with fewer problems… someone who did not give in so easily. His guilt was eating him up inside and, on those rare occasions when he did feel her reassurance, he resisted it. He deserved to feel terrible and he wouldn’t let her take that away from him.
Stephen must have sensed his troubled thoughts. He began assigning him very meaningless and repetitive tasks that bored him to tears but kept his mind focused during those times when he would otherwise find himself brooding. When Harry asked him why, he simply laughed and said that often the most redundant tasks were useful in clearing a troubled mind. At first, Harry balked at the extra duties, but soon he saw the wisdom in keeping busy. It did give him less time to brood, and he actually found himself enjoying the meaningless jobs.
One of the things he was assigned had him magicking pebbles from the ground to form themselves into tiny pyramids. He had made over thirty before Stephen said he had done enough. Another assignment had him tracking and capturing mackled malaclaws on the beach using his senses and instincts to guide him. It was tedious work, and very boring — and he had to be very careful to stun the creatures before picking them up and throwing them back out to into the ocean. One mistake could be devastating because a bite would ensure him a week of bad luck and he didn’t need that on top of everything else, with the match only a few days away. Stephen insisted he wear thick rubber gloves and boots just in case. In some respects it was very similar to denoming the Weasley’s garden, which did not help keep his mind off Ginny, but in other ways it was quite satisfying when he caught one of the little buggars. He especially liked throwing them out to sea: it was rather like therapy to hear their tiny squeals, see them fly out over the waves, and plop into the ocean a safe distance away.
It was one of these times of combing the beach for the malaclaws, the day before the ballgame, when he turned suddenly to find himself face to face with Masaya. He had been so absorbed in his task he hadn’t even noticed her approach.
“May I have a word?” she said stiffly. Her long black hair was loose and flowing in the breeze, but her expression was troubled.
Harry nodded. “Fine,” he said just as stiffly.
He took off his gloves and headed for the blanket he had brought with him, along with his water bottle. Macoa had stayed behind in his room, lounging on his bed in the sun which filtered in from the window. The salt air and sand did not agree with her, and now that he had his sight back he did not need her to help him get around.
Harry noticed Masaya appeared nervous but determined, and uncharacteristically at a loss for words. She opened her mouth several times to speak but shut it again abruptly, like she didn’t know how to begin.
Annoyed at her indecision, Harry said finally, “Well? Are you going to talk? I have a match to prepare for with your boyfriend, or have you forgotten?”
“Chac says you have improved.”
She was obviously making an effort to keep her tone neutral and Harry didn’t know what to make of that statement. “Chac is a good ballplayer,” he said. “Your brother’s taught me a lot about the sport, and he’s become a good friend.”
“My brother is very obedient and trusting.” Her voice had a peculiar harsh tone to it, and she looked away nervously like she had just said something she shouldn’t.
Harry sighed. He was tired of these games. “What do you want, Masaya?”
She seemed to steel her resolve and her demeanour took on an appearance of her former behaviour. She held her head high and seemed to try to look down her nose at him, but Harry knew she was finding it difficult. He simply didn’t care anymore about anything other than getting strong enough to defeat Voldemort and going home to the people he loved. Her problems were trivial right now compared to his, and that must have shown through. She seemed disconcerted by his indifference.
“If you win, what are your intentions?”
Harry was truly surprised by her question. He had not even considered the fact that he might win. He was more interested in surviving than winning.
“My intentions?” His brow furrowed in confusion.
“What do you want?”
“I want to go home,” Harry said. “That’s all.”
“Will I be… going with you?” she asked nervously, and Harry finally understood. She wanted to know what he intended to do about her.
“Oh…” he said in a rush of breath. “Well… no.”
Her face showed a mixture of relief and disappointment. “I have dreamed of seeing your far-off land, but I would miss my home if I were I leave. When will you come back?”
“Umm… I can’t really see myself needing to come back here, unless it’s to visit Stephen.” He was still slightly confused at her point.
Her face darkened. “You hate me so much that you would dishonour me so?”
“Er… huh?”
“You would leave me no better than a widow, untouchable by any man and forced into isolation because of your rejection.” Here eyes clouded with tears. “I may not love you, but I would honour our union and treat you with respect. I can learn to be a good wife.”
“Masaya,” Harry said, “I don’t want anyone to learn to be with me out of duty or responsibility. Life is too short to waste it on people we don’t love. I want to be with someone who loves me, for me, not because she is given to me by her father like a bauble or trinket. I want… no, I need a woman who is willing to sacrifice her own life for mine — just like I’d do for her. I need to be with someone who needs me as much as I need her… not because she has to, but because she wants to. I need a person who supports me through everything, even when I’m a prat and can’t express how I feel about her….”
Harry took her hands in his and held them tenderly. He could see the effect his words were having on her; it was like ice melting on a warm summer day. “I don’t want to marry you. You’re a beautiful woman and I’m sure there are many men who would kill to be your husband, but I’m not the person who can make you happy. That slot is already filled, I suspect, and you should be with him. Our destinies lie with other people, Masaya. I’m sorry….”
“Your lady is a very lucky woman, Harry Potter,” she said, sniffing slightly.
Caught off guard, he answered, “No, I’m the lucky one.”
She smiled sadly. “Your intentions are noble, but it does not change facts; I have been given to you. In the eyes of the law and my family, I now belong to you and if you choose to reject me, then so be it. My destiny is clear now.”
Harry’s face contorted with anger and he clutched her hands harder. “But that’s not fair! You should be allowed to choose who you want to spend the rest of your life with!”
“I would beg you, if I thought it would do any good.” She was crying in earnest now, and Harry could see the shame buried deep in her jumbled emotions.
It happened so fast, he didn’t know where it come from, but he was hit with a hex that sent him hurling through the air and landing hard on his back, several feet away. He was trying to get the sand out of his face and right himself when a dark shadow moved in threateningly. Harry didn’t stop to think, he just reacted.
Using his wandless magic, he sent a stunner of his own at the figure and was relieved to see the man hurl away from him with equal force, just long enough for him to get his bearings. Harry watched as Tlaloc rolled over quickly and threw himself in a defensive stance.
“Get away from her,” he growled menacingly, matching Harry’s stance. “If you are going to disgrace her in such a callous manner, then I will make sure you suffer just like she will suffer when you reject her!”
“Tlaloc, no!”
Masaya was pleading with him as Harry said calmly, “You don’t understand…”
“What don’t I understand? I understand that you would rather see this beautiful woman disgraced than accept her as your wife! I understand that you are a foreigner with no respect for our ways… our traditions!” He spat on the ground in defiance. “You are no God!”
“I never said I was!” Harry yelled in frustration. “You people think you understand everything, but you know nothing!” He pointed his finger at Tlaloc, who stared back at him angrily. “You hide here on your island and wish for Gods to come and save you, but what you should be doing is trying to save yourself!
“There is evil in this world that you know nothing about! People are dying — have died — trying to defend a lifestyle where men and women can choose whomever they want to marry and raise their children in safety where they don’t have to fear evil Dark Lords or tyrants trying to do them in! All I want is to go home and try to do my part to see that more good people don’t die needlessly. If I can stop him, I will — or I’ll just be another victim in his quest for power. Either way, it doesn’t matter because I’ll have done everything in my power to see that justice is done, instead of sitting here on my arse and hoping someone else will take care of the problem!”
“Well said, Harry,” a quiet voice said from behind, making him jump. For the third time that day he had been surprised by someone sneaking up on him, and he resolved to work on that. “Tlaloc is a hothead, but he should know better than to jump you the day before the match. He could be disqualified for this.”
“That’s okay, Hunter,” Harry said. “Tlaloc was just leaving.”
Tlaloc grunted angrily and shot Masaya a scathing look. “You should know better than to beg a foreigner, Princess,” he said contemptuously.
Harry stepped in front of her protectively. “Again you jump to false conclusions. That’s not what was happening here, at all. Masaya and I were coming to some conclusions about our situation and we agree on one thing… we want different things, different people, and we don’t like being forced into a situation that is clearly wrong. Isn’t that right, Masaya?”
“Yes, it is,” she said quietly but firmly. Harry was relieved to see some of Tlaloc’s anger fade with her admission.
“You have your answer,” Stephen said coldly, “now leave. Harry is being generous, but I won’t be for long, if you don’t go.”
“Very well,” Tlaloc said proudly. “I’ll be seeing you soon enough, Prince, and then we will settle this.”
Harry was grateful to see him stalk off, angrier than ever, but at least he had stopped throwing hexes.
Masaya turned to Stephen. “Please, Xolotl, don’t tell my father about this.”
“He needs to know,” Stephen said.
“No he doesn’t,” Harry said quietly, but with the authority of one much older than his years. “It’s over. Tlaloc’s gone now, and tomorrow I’ll face him man to man. Then it will be over and I can go home. Leave it alone.” With that he too stalked away, leaving the two of them half in shock, staring after him in wonder.
Stephen looked after Harry’s retreating body and was struck by how grown up he appeared… shouldering a man’s burdens and responsibilities. In the few weeks he had known him, the boy had truly been replaced by the man before him.
Beside him, Masaya whispered, “Whoever stole his heart, Xolotl… she is a very lucky woman.”
Stephen looked at her sharply. “What did you say?”
She shrugged. “He is a man who loves a woman, and the woman is certainly not me. It is written plainly on his face. Don’t you see?”
Hunter stared up at Harry’s barely visible form as he reached the crest of the hill and wound his way back to the villa. Could it be that simple? All the odd looks, the odd behaviour, his mysterious “friend” who was in danger, his insistence on going home… “Why didn’t I see it before?” he said aloud in amazement.
“Just like me, you were too short-sighted to look beyond the surface of the boy’s exterior into the man’s heart. She must be a very special woman to have captured the attention of such a powerful wizard. Perhaps she is even a goddess in disguise.”
Hunter laughed. “Mixtecs have a bad habit of calling ordinary people deities.”
Masaya looked at him seriously, her delicate face set in a hard line. “You show your true nature as a foreigner once again, friend. I may be young, but even I know that greatness, destiny, and the gods go hand in hand. What is written will come to pass because it must in order for this world to live on. I believe now that he is our Quetzalcoatl, your Harry Potter… but he is also a man with a man’s vulnerabilities. The two of you have much work to do.”
Still staring off at the place where he last saw Harry, Hunter found himself nodding. “We do, but one thing at a time, my dear. Tomorrow will be the true test.”
“Yes,” she answered sadly. “And I fear for my beloved, because he is trying to stand in the way of fate, and that is a terrible place to be.”
Chapter 11: The Ties That Bind
Harry stormed away from the confrontation with Masaya and Tlaloc and immediately went in search of Macoa. He wasn’t sure why he felt drawn to her, but he was angry and he knew she had the ability to calm him down before his Occlumency slipped and Voldemort found his way in. After reliving the experience on Privet Drive, he was determined to never allow him the opportunity to take control again.
He found Macoa exactly where he left her — curled up on his bed in the sun.
“Didn’t you have a nisse time by the ocean?” she hissed as she raised her head and looked at him questioningly. “I ssense that you are angry.”
Switching to Parseltongue easily, he answered, “I had a run-in with Tlaloc and Masaya, the ones I told you about. We exchanged… words.”
“Ahhh… Yesss, Tlaloc — the great warrior of the island. He iss a hot-head and ssomewhat arrogant, but not truly bad from what I have been told. He will become a great leader, once he learns to control hiss temper and sstops standing in the way of destiny.”
Harry snorted. “He’s a git,” he said boorishly as he flopped down on the bed.
Macoa slithered up his arm. “I do not know thisss word.”
“It means he’s not a nice person,” Harry told her grumpily. “He’s an effing arsehole! He thinks he knows everything about me, but he doesn’t know shite!”
“Sssuch language…” she said disapprovingly, but Harry knew she was amused. “What would your Ginny ssay if she could hear you speak this way?”
Harry laughed in earnest, despite his anger. “She’d agree with me and add her own colourful words.”
“She soundss very intriguing. I cannot wait to meet her. I am told she is alsso able to sspeak my language?” Macoa was at eye level now, lying comfortably on his chest.
She was coiled up on top of his tattoo and for some reason Harry felt a pleasant glow begin to form inside him, originating from his centre. It was radiating out of him and pushing out all the anger and guilt in its way. Strangely, the more he thought of Ginny, the better he felt.
He hadn’t thought much about Ginny being a Parseltongue since learning that she had the ability. “Yeah, I suppose she will be able to talk to you, too. We found out the night we got together that she was a Parseltongue like me.” He averted his eyes, which had grown suddenly troubled.
“Why doess this trouble you?” Macoa asked.
“If Ginny can speak Parseltongue then she must have retained that ability from the diary. I wonder what else is still inside her.”
“Are you certain sshe was not born with the ability? Perhapss it is nothing more than a coincidence.”
Harry shook his head. “I’m not certain of anything, but I don’t think she was born with the ability to talk to snakes. It happened after she was possessed by Tom.” He sat up and adjusted the snake so that she could slither around his neck, balanced comfortably on his shoulders. “This is bad.”
“Why?” she asked, sounding concerned.
“Well, if Voldemort finds out about this, he could find a way to use it to his advantage. Ginny might be in even more trouble than she already is by being associated with me.” He got up from the bed and paced irritably, swearing again. “I wish I was home! I need to see her… to warn her,” he said, once again frustrated.
“Harry, there isss nothing you can do for Ginny right now,” Macoa told him calmly, slithering around so that she was close to his ear. “You need to focuss on the game tomorrow and worry about thiss afterwards. From what you have told me, she iss being well protected. It iss time to trust otherss to do what you cannot. Trusst in your bond. Wouldn’t you know it if ssomething were wrong?”
Harry stopped pacing. He supposed he would know if Ginny were in danger. Their link was strong; even now he knew it wouldn’t take much to tune into her feelings and reassure himself that she was alright.
“Lie down and relax,” Macoa advised him. “Focuss on your connection and let your mind drift. Ssee what happenss.”
“Okay,” he said, complying reluctantly. “I’ll try.”
He lay down on the bed and closed his eyes, feeling his new friend glide her way back to his chest and settle once again over his tattoo. As she curled herself into a ball, he was aware of the euphoric feeling from earlier returning, and he allowed his mind to focus inward and on Ginny. Immediately, he could feel her emotions swirling around him — pain, love, anger, sadness, humour, and hope. Determinedly he focused on the mass of swirling, dancing colours and allowed himself to be swept away towards her.
He felt a slight pull in his mind and knew that whatever he was doing was drawing him to her.
At first he rushed forward, anxious to come to the end of the connection because he instinctively knew what he would find waiting from him there. But eventually curiosity got the better of him as he went deeper into his subconscious, and he slowed his pace and looked around with his mind’s eye, astounded by what he saw. Everywhere, there were ropes and tethers of emotions that seemed to connect him with others. The one that was currently in his hands was Ginny’s strand, which was the strongest. Only a few other strands even came close to the strength of this one. Instinctively he knew one shining strand belonged to Ron and another to Hermione, but he could see strong connections to all the people he loved and cared about, and some to people he hated.
Anyone who had touched his life had their own strand and he witnessed the outward and inward flow of the connections. He knew that these were his feelings for people flowing out of him and his impressions of their feelings flowing back. Positive emotions were bright; negative emotions were darker. He was glad to see that none of these connections were currently black, even the ones belonging to the Dursleys and Malfoy, but he could see that these were some of the strongest and darkest connections he had made. It wouldn’t take much for some of them to turn pure black, however, and he shivered at the thought. He didn’t relish hating anyone. It was one thing to feel the emotions; quite another to actually see them.
With disgust, Harry’s eyes fell on something else — an unnaturally strong connection that was entirely different from anything he had seen so far. It was made up of two radiant strands of green and red, connected and winding around each other as if fighting for dominance. He could see them moving and clashing, and it was almost painful to watch as the green tried to seep into the red, only to be harshly repelled.
He heard Macoa’s voice inside his head. “That is your connection with the enemy. It was forged by the curse and will not be broken until one of you is dead. The connection is constantly in a struggle for dominance. Your emotions fight each other to gain control. It is an ongoing battle inside your minds.”
Transfixed in horror, he wondered what would happen if the two colours merged.
As if reacting to his thoughts, he saw the green thread surged forward a bit and manage to strike a good blow to the red thread. The surge forced a portion of the strand to combine into one colour — a sickly, murky, dark greenish-grey colour — and Harry immediately felt the familiar invasion of the snake trying to weaken him. He pushed back and saw the red rush forward, expelling the invader.
“If the strands merged you would be part of the Shadow, my Prince,” Macoa said sadly. “You would be neither Harry Potter nor Tom Riddle, but something else… something different and terrible. The Shadow would be like a poison, choking out your natural connections and turning you into an abomination full of evil, self-loathing, anger, and hatred. Beware of the Shadow, Harry. Do not let the Shadow of the Serpent become your essence. Repel it with everything you have learned and everything you are. Let your life be filled with light, not shadows. Remember.”
“I will,” he told her.
Turning away, he focused on his connection with Ginny. This strand was similar to the unnatural one, but at the same time polar opposite. The two separate strands were almost indistinguishable, like pure spun light. Where they merged, the light was brilliant… blinding even. He felt a wave of emotion rolling his way, and knew that he had tapped into Ginny’s feelings. They were wonderfully untainted.
“This connection is born of love. It is pure, for now. Remember what you have seen and keep it this way. A bond such as this is very rare and if either of you try to use it for purposes it was not intended, the connection will become tainted.”
“I don’t understand,” Harry said, perplexed. “Why would I want to do something to hurt Ginny? I love her.” The words sounded foreign to his ears, but he meant them. He did love Ginny. It had taken him awhile to admit it, but she was the most important person in his life right now. She was his rock, and he couldn’t imagine life without her.
“Human emotions are very unstable. Jealousy and fear can do much damage. You have a strong will and are quick to anger. Likewise, your lady also has these qualities. You are both born under the sign of Leo, correct?”
“Yes,” Harry said slowly, not sure where she was going with this.
“Leos are courageous and generous, but when angered they can be ferocious. A Leo’s greatest fault can be his or her pride, and they can be quite stubborn when they feel they have been wronged. Your bond will not stop you from having doubts or negative feelings towards your lady at times. After all, you are both human. But do not let these emotions have power over you, or it could be a gateway for the Shadow to enter your life and fester its evil in your soul. Remember.”
“I will,” he said again, but he still could not fathom a time when he and Ginny would purposefully hurt each other. It was ridiculous. He stared at the two brilliant white strands of energy and felt compelled to move on.
“Follow this path, Harry,” Macoa’s voice said, sounding further away now, “and you will find what you seek.”
He was rushing forward now with lightning speed. Faster and faster he sped until finally, with a burst of adrenalin, he was through on the other side. It was quiet here, but it wasn’t night yet. He looked down and was surprised to see himself in this form. He had an ethereal body without shape, and it was shimmering and sparkling faintly. Somehow he understood that this image was a reflection of his psychic energy, and he had travelled here through the connection he shared with Ginny. Unlike dreamwalking, he was actually here in Ginny’s room and neither of them was asleep.
Looking around, he spotted her sitting on the window seat by the big bay window, staring out the grimy glass pane into the fading night sky. She had a book in her lap, but she was not reading it. The expression on her face was thoughtful, and even from his distance he could see she had been crying. The sight of her wet face nearly broke his heart. Stretching out his feelings, he connected with her and tried to determine what was wrong. She was sad, disappointed, lonely, and… surprised.
Instantly she looked around the room, but not up high near the rafters where he was hovering. “I could swear…,” he heard her say. “But that’s impossible. “Still…”
Then he felt his own probe. She was trying to tap into his feelings and, since he had let his wall down to probe hers, she found the link easily. He saw her eyes close and a look that was a mixture of pain and contentment flit across her face.
“Oh, Harry,” she whispered sadly. “I wish you were here. I miss you so much.”
Hearing her say his name filled his heart with emotion. As it burst open, the energy surrounding him expanded; it crackled and glowed brighter and brighter, filling the room with light and causing Ginny to look up in surprise at the rafters.
“Harry?”
He wanted to scream yes, but he couldn’t make the words come out. But his efforts had another effect, causing him to draw closer to her. And the closer he got, the more the mass of light surrounding him began to take a form — a sort of imprint of his earthly body — until he was sitting beside her on the window seat.
“Harry,” she said, her eyes filling with tears.
He nodded. She reached out a hand and tried to touch his face, but it just went right through him.
“You’re not… dead, are you?” she asked fearfully.
He shook his head no then tried to open his mouth to say something, but again he had no voice. Not giving up, he mouthed the words he had wanted to say to her for days, but not found the courage.
I love you, Ginny.
She smiled through her tears. “I know, Harry. I love you, too.”
He felt a tug and knew it was time to go, so he tried to communicate that to her. Evidently she understood because her face contorted in disappointment.
“So soon?” When he nodded, she said, “Thank you, Harry. Thank you for being here when I need you most.”
He didn’t know what to say to that, and it didn’t matter anyway because he felt the tug of his body willing his soul to return and found himself flying backwards until, like a lead weight, he was whole once again — back in his room on the island.
Opening his eyes blearily he asked Macoa, who was still lying on his chest, what happened.
“You travelled through the connection to your lady,” she answered, staring at him with unblinking eyes. “Was sshe ssafe?”
“I-I think so,” he stammered. “She seemed sad, but okay enough, I suppose. I didn’t have time to get that far.”
“Did your meeting help?” she asked.
He pondered that question. Had it helped? All he really had time to tell her was that he loved her, but he would remember the look on her face as he said those words till his dying day. “Yeah. Yeah, it did,” he finally answered.
“Good,” Macoa said in her motherly way. “Now, I have ssomething to do. You should resst. You have a very hard day ahead of you tomorrow, my Prince. I may be gone for a few dayss, sso do not worry.”
“You won’t be here for the game?” he asked, trying to squash his disappointment.
“I am not ccertain, but… I will try. The ruless of the ballgame prohibit me from interfering, but I am confident you will do well, Harry Potter. It will not be easy, but this is a necesssary test you must passs on your own.”
Harry studied her retreating form, feeling a mix of emotions. “Macoa!” he called out to her as she was about to disappear out the window.
“Yesss?”
“Thanks.”
“You are welcome, Prince,” she said regally, then slithered out of sight.
Harry lay down, feeling exhausted. Maybe a kip wasn’t such a bad idea. His last training session with Stephen was tonight, then there was some sort or ceremony he was supposed to take part in as soon as it got dark. He wasn’t sure what that was all about, but he’d figure it out… yawn… after he woke up.
***
As it turned out, his training session was little more than a pep talk and a review of all the hexes and curses he had learned over the last few weeks. Before he knew it, he found himself dressed in the strange outfit he had worn to the banquet and walking beside Stephen to the middle of the village where the opening ceremony for the competition was going to be held.
“So, what’s going to happen tonight?” he asked his mentor, noticing for the first time how deep his voice was getting. Tonight, for the first time in his life, he felt older and more mature than he ever had in his life. He was ready to face this thing head on and get it over with, then he could go home to Ginny, Ron and Hermione. He was ready for term to begin and couldn’t wait to get back to Hogwarts to see all his friends. Malfoy, especially, was in for a surprise.
Stephen also noticed the change in Harry. Gone was the boy he had been when he arrived, and in his place was a new Harry — taller, more confident, and driven. He had lost his sickly, pale pallor in the island sun, and had replaced the weak body with a lean, muscular one from all the physical training he had been doing. All in all, he looked the same, but much more healthy and strong. There was also an edge about him that Stephen couldn’t quite place. It hadn’t been there when he first met him, but it was definitely there now. It was clear that Harry had a goal — one apart from winning this game — and everything centred around achieving it.
Shaking himself out of his assessment of the new Harry, Stephen answered, “There will be a short ceremony, then you and Tlaloc will stand in front of the chief and an advisor will review the rules of the game. Once you have heard them, you are free to go. It is a highly important part of this process and very sacred to the Mixtecs. It’s a celebration of the ballgame which has been traditionally played for the gods. Plus, it has a practical purpose. If the opponents hear the rules of the game beforehand, no one will be able to claim ignorance when they get caught cheating.”
“Who’d cheat, anyway?” Harry asked, perplexed.
Stephen shot him a shrewd look. “Everyone cheats, Harry. It’s just a matter of not getting caught.”
It sounded like a very Slytherin thing to say, and it hacked him off immediately. “I don’t cheat.”
“Hmmm… somehow, I thought you’d say that,” Stephen said, flashing him a sly grin. “I was just testing you, Harry. I never thought you did. I know you’re Gryffindor through and through.” Changing the subject before Harry could retort, he asked, “So… where’s your little friend? Did she decide to crawl back in the hole she came from? I haven’t seen her about for awhile.”
“Macoa? She’s around,” he said offhandedly, still miffed that Stephen felt the need to test his integrity. He decided to let it go for now, but wouldn’t forget it any time soon.
“She knows you don’t like her.”
“She would be correct,” Stephen said brashly.
Harry flashed him a withering look. “She had something to do and said she’d be gone for a few days, but she’d be back.” His heart hurt to think of being without her. Already, she was like an extension of himself… she was the emotional base that helped him work through his jumbled feelings. In the few short days he had known her, she had helped him understand himself better than anyone ever had.
He heard Stephen snort. “You trust this… snake?” He said it like it was something repulsive, and it irritated Harry.
“Yeah… yeah, I do.”
Stephen snorted in annoyance. “Well, I don’t trust any bloody snake, especially ones that just show up out of nowhere.”
“Well, seeing as how I’m the only one who can talk to her, I guess you’ll just have to trust my judgement on this one, okay?” Harry retorted angrily.
“Stand down, Harry,” Stephen said. “I do trust your judgement. I just don’t trust snakes, is all. I’ve met too many bad ones in my life to fully trust anything that slithers or has a forked tongue. It’s nothing personal, but being held captive by Voldemort will do that to a person.”
Harry stopped walking and stared at him in surprise. “You were captured by Voldemort? When?”
Stephen looked pained and immediately started walking away, obviously hoping Harry would forget it. “It doesn’t matter. It was a long time ago,” he said.
Harry hurried to catch up with him. “How’d you get away?” he asked curiously.
Stephen looked out over the diminishing sunset as he walked. Harry could see his mind turning back over the years and stayed quiet, hoping Stephen would actually tell him something for a change. “Remember when I said your father saved my life?” Harry nodded, his eyes wide.
“He went into the heart of Voldemort’s lair and got me out.”
“My dad did that?” He was burning with questions and a newfound respect for his father. How had he done it, and why?
“Yes, he did. He was a very brave man, Harry, and a good friend.” Stephen’s eyes bore into his and Harry could see the truth of it written there. “I was held captive for five days, subjected to the worst torture you can imagine. I’d almost given up.”
“How did you get out?” Harry asked, fascinated. He knew what Voldemort’s brand of torture was like firsthand, and he wouldn’t wish it on anyone.
“Your dad and Sirius Black devised a plan to get me out. They were somehow able to sneak in and Portkey me out. I remember landing in the middle of your dad’s living room. You were just a baby then. Merlin, I don’t think I’d ever seen a woman as angry with someone as your mum was with your dad! He hadn’t told her his plans, you see, and when she found out what he had done, she just about blew off the roof!” Hunter laughed fondly. “She was a spitfire, Lily was. Beautiful and spirited… she certainly loved the two of you. Told him that if he thought he was going to leave you fatherless, he had another thing coming.”
Harry soaked in this story like a dry sponge finding water for the first time. “What’d she do?” he asked.
“I was a bit out of it,” Hunter said, “but I heard she kissed him, and then she hexed him. She was always the best in her year in charms. He loved to keep her vexed just so they could make up later. He said she was the biggest challenge he’d ever had in his life and it kept him on his toes. But they certainly loved each other… that’s for sure.”
“What about Sirius?” Harry asked. “What do you remember about him?”
“Sirius?” Hunter said, seeming to reach back into his memories. “Sirius Black enjoyed causing trouble and was always getting James into hot water with Lily. She had a special fondness for him, though. All he had to do was turn on the sad puppy dog eyes and she would give in every time. They were all so close,” he said. “James, Sirius, Remus Lupin, and the mousy one… Pettigrew I think his name was. I didn’t know him well. He was always a bit odd, if you ask me. It’s a shame what happened to them. I suppose you know…” he said, eying Harry warily.
“I know the truth, if that’s what you mean,” Harry told him angrily. “Peter Pettigrew betrayed my parents and Sirius took the blame. He broke out of Azkaban a few years ago to protect me, but ended up getting killed a few months ago. Pettigrew, as far as I know, is still alive and is serving Voldemort. He’s the reason Voldemort’s back.”
Hunter looked stunned. “I had no idea.”
“No,” Harry said, his voice terse with unchecked tension. “You wouldn’t. It’s not common knowledge.”
He was quiet for a moment. Talking about his parents brought to mind something he had forgotten. “I had a sort of vision about them,” he said suddenly, before he could change his mind. “It was during the sensory deprivation. They came to me and talked to me… my mum, my dad, and Sirius.”
Hunter raised his eyebrow in surprise. He sometimes forgot what the boy had gone through and it was little comments like this that made him remember that Harry was just a young boy… an orphan with a miserable childhood.
“You didn’t tell me this,” he said, surprised. “Was it a dream?”
Harry shook his head. “It didn’t feel like a dream. It felt… real. My dad told me to tell you thank you. For what, I’m not sure.”
Stephen looked thoughtful. “I owed your dad a debt, and I’m paying it off by watching out for you,” Stephen said finally.
Harry stiffened. “I’m not a debt that needs repaying. I don’t want-”
“I don’t care what you want,” Stephen said roughly, stopping them suddenly and looking him straight in the eye. “It’s what parents do, Harry. If our situations had been reversed, I’d want someone to do the same for my Adam. Do you understand?”
Harry searched Stephen’s eyes and found nothing but sincerity there. Slowly he nodded and continued walking, this time in comfortable companionship with Stephen Hunter, his dad’s friend.
“There’s nothing else you need to tell me, is there?” Stephen asked casually him as they walked.
“Like what?” Harry asked.
“Well,” Stephen said, watching him out of the corner of his eye, “Masaya seems to think you have a lady friend at home.”
“What?” Harry said curtly, stopping abruptly. “Why would she tell you that?” He wasn’t sure if he wanted to tell Stephen about Ginny. His earlier joke regarding Masaya and the whole marriage thing still irked him, and he didn’t feel like being teased about it. Besides, the less people who knew about his relationship with Ginny, the better. Maybe one day he’d feel comfortable talking about it, but not today.
“Gee… I don’t know Harry,” Stephen said sarcastically. “Maybe it has something to do with why you won’t marry her. She just implied that you are already in love with someone. Are you?”
Harry closed his mouth tightly and said nothing. He began walking away very fast; he was not having this conversation.
“Hmmm…” Stephen mused, catching up with him easily. “Maybe she was wrong. Ahh…I see now…”
His voice was suggestive, raising Harry’s annoyance a notch more. “What’s that supposed to mean?” he snapped.
“Well… you don’t act very courteous around the lovely Masaya, but you do get on well with her brother, Chac.”
“So?”
“So… maybe your mysterious friend isn’t a girl. Maybe it’s a-”
“Of course it’s a girl!” Harry said angrily before Stephen could finish, then immediately howled in anger when he began laughing. “That wasn’t fair!”
“I told you I should have been a Slytherian, didn’t I?” he said, shrugging. “If it weren’t for that whole bloody snake thing, my life may have turned out differently.”
In response Harry turned on his heel and began walking very fast. He’d be damned if Stephen got anything about Ginny out of him now. He knew Hunter would figure it out eventually, but he certainly wouldn’t get any help from him. Ginny was his secret, and even Hunter, the superb Legilimens that he was, wouldn’t be able to drag anything from him. …Not if he had anything to say about it!
** Check out my submission one-shot for the latest SIYE Challenge Dream Adventure. It's called In the Mind's Eye. I'd love to know what you think.
[A/N: Thanks again to everyone who is reading and especially those of you who take the time to review and send me gentle reminders to update. They really do help keep me motivated. Thanks also to Arnel for beta reading this chapter. A special thank you to Melindaleo for all her help and encouragement.]
Pronunciation guide:
Xolotl: She-o-LO-tl
Quetzal: ket-SAL
Quetzalcoatl: ket-sal-CO-atl
Tezcatlipoca: tez-ca-tli-PO-ca
Tlilli Tlapalla: t-lil-li tla-pa-la
Tecuhtl: te-COO-tl
Masaya: ma-SA-ya
Tlaloc: TLA-lock
Chac: ch-ock
Chuen: chew-en
Popol Vuh: po-pol VOO
Mixtec: mix-TE-ca
Xian: she-I-an
Ehecailacozcatl: e-e-kai-la-KOS-katl
Temascal: te-MA-scal
Macoa: ma-CO-a
Chapter 12: Deception
Deception
The ceremony was far from the short, simple thing Hunter had promised. No… it was an all out, no-holds-barred tribal celebration. It seemed practically the entire island was there to see the two candidates hear the rules of the game and see them occupy the same space. It was common knowledge Tlaloc held a grudge against the foreigner — he had made no secret of his animosity towards Harry or his belief that he couldn’t possibly be the powerful sorcerer the Ancient Ones had prophesied about so many years ago.
Many were curious to catch a glimpse of Harry up close. He had so far kept himself secluded from the villagers. It wasn’t on purpose, really; he was just so busy training that he didn’t have much time to explore and meet people. When he did have free time, he usually spent it flying. This made the villagers even more in awe of him, and at the same time Harry suspected they were a little scared. Hunter had been right — none of them had ever seen an international racing broom in action before. Apparently his antics in the air had done nothing to quell the talk surrounding him. Everyone wanted to see for themselves if the foreign teenager was really the much anticipated Quetzalcoatl, Defender of Humanity, their Plumbed Serpent Prince reincarnated, and if he lived up to the title.
They sat him and Tlaloc at a table by themselves as the guests of honour. Luckily, they were far enough apart that they didn’t have to communicate. Tlaloc just looked straight ahead, his face a stony mask of indifference. Harry remained polite but couldn’t help his nervousness when his magic got out of control again and he accidentally levitated everything on the table an inch or two off the surface. It was easily corrected with a wave of his hand — he was quite used to accidents like this by now — but, all the same, it was embarrassing to have it happen in front of so many people. It didn’t help when Tlaloc gave him a disgusted look after his water goblet hit the table and roughly splashed him in the face. He wiped at his wet face with a sneer and Harry knew he was dreaming up a thousand ways to murder him right then and there.
The ceremony began with a showcase of the island’s most talented musicians and dancers. Then a troupe came out and performed magic tricks for the audience. Harry had become so used to magic by now he had nearly forgotten that Muggles used it for entertainment purposes. Uncle Vernon and Aunt Petunia had always forbidden him and Dudley to even use the “M” word. They certainly would never allow them to watch any sort of magic show. But they didn’t know that their school had a magician come one day and perform for the students. Dudley had certainly never told them, and neither had he. It was one of the few times he and Dudley had ever agreed on anything as children. The tricks that the magician had performed seemed amazing then, but they were nothing compared to what Harry knew to be real magic.
This magic show, however, was entirely different. It seemed to be more of a competition between two people to see who could perform the best bit of transfiguration. Harry watched as the two Mixtecs transfigured all sorts of objects to chase, try to eat, and to fight each other. The competition finally ended when one opponent’s jaguar ate the other opponent’s monkey. It reminded Harry of the stories he’d heard of Merlin fighting the sorceress Morgana in a magical duel that had ended up with Merlin as the winner.
Another round of performances showcased some talented acrobats and finally, some children came in front of the table and sang Harry a song that was so beautiful he felt himself choke up. He gave them each an individual smile and thanked them, making the children laugh and scurry away to their parents, who seemed very pleased. Harry couldn’t help but feel Tlaloc’s suppressed anger after the incident and a small part of him was pleased with himself for getting under the man’s skin. After that, Tecuhtl called them forward and summoned the rules.
The regulations were simple:
1. Both players were obligated to compete. If, for any reason one did not compete, that player would automatically be declared the loser and the winner would decide the loser’s fate. The default winner would also be granted all the privileges that came with the winning status.
2. Don’t let the ball touch the ground; the player who lets the ball drop loses a point to the opponent. Referees had the authority of making the final call on who gets the point.
3. Players could not let the ball touch their hands; otherwise, they forfeited a point and the opposing player got a shot at one of the goals using their hands only — no magic!
4. Any and all hexes and curses were allowed including transfiguration, but players could not bring anything but their bodies into the arena. If a player died or was caught cheating during the match, the opponent automatically won.
5. If a player managed to get the ball into one of two hoops on the playing field, that player automatically won the game and all play would cease immediately. Additional hexes or curses would result in punishment for the offender.
6. The first person to score 100 points won the game.
7. The winner would decide the fate of the loser.
8. If play had been fair and honourable, the winner would be granted a reward of his
choice for his victory.
Harry and Tlaloc both indicated that they understand and would abide by the rules of the game. Harry, in a show of good sportsmanship, then turned to Tlaloc and extended his hand.
“Good luck tomorrow,” he said, holding Tlaloc’s eyes.
Tlaloc shoved Harry’s hand away. “It is not I who will need the favour of the Gods!” he said arrogantly before he stalked away.
Hunter came up behind Harry as he watched the islander leave. He patted Harry on the shoulder in what was meant to be a reassuring way, but Harry stiffened reflexively. He still wasn’t used to being touched in that way, and it surprised him.
“That was a good thing you did, Harry,” Hunter said. “Tlaloc may not see it, but many others were impressed by your humble attitude.”
“I wasn’t trying to be humble,” Harry growled angrily, still put off by Tlaloc’s refusal to see him as anything other than a threat. “I just wanted him to know that I’m not out to get him — I’m not trying to steal his girl away from him.”
“I’m sure he’ll see that in time. Mixtecs are proud people, Harry. To many of them, especially the warriors of the island, you have to prove yourself worthy before you can ever hope to gain their respect.” He tugged at Harry’s sleeve. “Come on… let’s go home. You need a good night’s rest. Tomorrow you’ll go to a sacred place to meditate and prepare yourself for the demands of the competition. It’s tradition.”
Harry looked at him curiously. “You never mentioned this before.”
“I forgot,” he said, shrugging. “Tecuhtl just reminded me.”
“Oh,” Harry answered, his mind turning everything over as they walked back to the villa. They could have easily Apparated, but the villa wasn’t far and it gave them both time to unwind. Something just didn’t sit right with Harry. It was like a feeling of deep unease — like something was about to happen… a dark shadow drawing closer and closer with every breath. He looked over at Hunter, but he didn’t seem to be troubled by anything.
It didn’t take long for them to reach the courtyard and say their goodnights.
“Sleep well, Harry,” Hunter said, his hand on the door handle of his library.
“Aren’t you going to bed?” Harry asked, stifling a yawn.
“I will soon,” Hunter told him. “I just have a few things to do before I retire for the night. You’ll be all right, won’t you?” he asked, a worried look on his face. “You seem to be awful quiet all of a sudden.”
Harry shivered slightly in the dark. He cast his eyes to the temple that could just be seen from the opening in the villa’s garden. The feeling — whatever it was — was still looming over him. Deciding not to bother Stephen with it till he knew for sure what it was, exactly, he shrugged. “I’m just tired, I suppose.”
“Are you sure it’s not nerves?” Hunter asked him, his frown intensifying. Harry felt Stephen’s now familiar attempts to probe his mind.
He grinned, “It’s not going to work, old man,” he told him with a snicker. “I can feel that, you know!” He turned towards his own door but stopped to call out, “A good night’s sleep is all I need. Don’t worry about me so much, Hunter. I know what I have to do.”
Hunter grinned back, satisfied that Harry was telling the truth. It had been a long night. Certainly the boy was feeling the strain.
“I’ll call Chuen and ask her to send something in to you to help you sleep,” he called out.
“That would be good,” Harry said agreeably, disappearing into his room.
That was the last Stephen Hunter would see of him; when he went to wake him up the next morning Harry had disappeared without a trace.
***
The first thing he recognised was the sound of the jungle all around him, and the magic; it seemed to encompass him and it was everywhere — in every tree, plant, and animal of the tropical forest where he lay. Then his head spun, his stomach roiled, and he turned over on his side and retched painfully.
‘What happened?’ he thought, struggling to stay focused, fighting the familiar fear and panic that he hated. ‘Where am I? The last thing I remember is saying goodnight to Stephen and then… what?’
Harry racked his brain for more information but came up blank. He had some vague recollection of drinking something. Yes… Chuen had left him something. Hadn’t she? He wished his head would quit spinning so he could think. It was an entirely different feeling than he had ever had before in his life. It was like drinking too many Butterbeer Extras and feeling the effects the next morning. The taste in his mouth was horrid and he’d do just about anything for a drink of water right now.
He reached up to his face and realised immediately why things looked so fuzzy and out of focus. His glasses were gone.
‘Just wonderful. I’m in the middle of nowhere, half blind, and,’ he felt around in his pockets, ‘no wand. Excellent!’ If his situation at the moment weren’t so dire, he’d have laughed.
Looking down, he was grateful to see he still had on his magical bands. Whoever had done this to him obviously had not been successful in removing them. At least he had that, although it would do him no good with Apparation. Stephen had only taught him how to do it with a wand. He had never even seen it done without a wand, and had no idea how to even go about performing such a dangerous and complicated spell just using the wristbands. Besides, even with a wand, in his condition he didn’t even know if he’d make it back to the villa without splinching himself.
‘Now what?’ he asked himself, as he tried to make out his surroundings. He had no idea which way to even go and he couldn’t see shite. What would Stephen tell him to do?
Closing his eyes, he tried to forget about his poor eyesight, his situation… even his still roiling stomach. Using his training and the effects from the deprivation spell, he reached out his mind and his magic, connecting with the magic that was all around him. The result was instantaneous. For Harry, it was like plugging into a natural power source and he found he didn’t need his eyes to work perfectly after all. As long as he could see the magic, he knew where to go and what to do.
Feeling around on the ground, he found a twig from a nearby tree. It was straight and smooth — and just about the same size as his wand. Holding his hand flat, he sat the wand on his palm and, thinking of the village, said clearly, “Point Me!” Obeying his command, the stick turned on his hand and pointed Harry in the direction he needed to go. With a smile of satisfaction, he started walking.
***
Stephen had not been this scared in a long time. He had woken up to what looked to be a promising morning only to have everything go downhill fast. When Harry did not show up to breakfast like he usually did, he had assumed at first that he was having a lie-in. Fearing he would not have time to eat before they were due at the temple for the meditation ceremony, he had gone to Harry’s room but he had not answered the door, even after insistent knocking. Becoming concerned, Hunter magicked the door open and found it deserted.
At first he had thought Harry had stepped out for some private time or to go for a quick run on the beach. He did that often these days, ever since he got serious about his training. Stephen was just about to go look for him when he noticed something strange… a cup shattered on the floor near the small table. Curiously, he walked over and bent down to examine it when his eyes fell on something even more ominous — Harry’s glasses. Another search around the room produced Harry’s wand.
Now he knew something was wrong. Harry never went anywhere without his glasses; he couldn’t see two feet in front of him without them on. And even though he didn’t need the wand anymore, he still carried it with him wherever he went. The old, familiar Auror instincts kicked in then, and Hunter drew his wand and performed a spell he had learned a long time ago but not had an occasion to use in years. It was a standard crime scene spell that helped magical law enforcement officials track down what spells had been used in the vicinity of any particular place within the last twenty-four hours. In some cases, magical signatures of the caster could even be traced. This spell, however, yielded no useful information. There was nothing out of the ordinary in Harry’s room.
Swearing, Hunter performed another spell. This one checked for traces of magical substances such as potions, and it did come up with something. The shattered cup on the floor was laced with pulque, a natural but powerful substance used in ceremonies to induce visions. If the drinker was not used to ingesting the substance, it could easily act as a sedative.
Waving his hand over the cup to repair it, he yelled loudly for Chuen.
“Yes, Sir?” she said pleasantly when she appeared in the doorway. “You need something from Chuen now?” She looked at him curiously. “Why you in young Sir’s room?”
“Did you make this for him last night?” Hunter asked hurriedly, holding up the now repaired cup and ignoring her question.
She came closer and stared at the cup in surprise. “Where you get that?” she asked. “That not belong here.”
Hunter studied her face for any sign of trickery or deception, but found none. “What do you mean it doesn’t belong here?” he asked.
“It- I… not know it,” she answered, stumbling over the foreign words.
Growing frustrated, he switched to Nahuatl. “This is very important, Chuen,” he said in her native tongue. “Harry’s life may depend on it. Are you sure you’ve never seen this cup before?”
“No, Xolotl,” she answered back in Nahuatl. “I have never seen this cup before in my life. It is not part of the kitchen here and it is an unfamiliar pattern to me. What is this about?”
Hunter swore again violently and slammed the cup down on the table. “He’s gone, Chuen. I came to wake him up this morning for the Meditation Ceremony and he’s vanished.” Hunter thrust Harry’s glasses and wand forward. “I found these, along with that cup shattered on the floor. It contained pulque residue.”
“He has not been exposed to pulque before, Xolotl,” she said, her eyes wide. “We of the island give this to our children beginning at a young age to prepare them for the ceremonies they will one day participate in. Even a small amount would have serious consequences for the boy, since he is not used to it. Who would have done this?”
“I have my suspicions,” Hunter said grimly. “His bed has not bed slept in, either, from the looks of it. He could be anywhere by now!”
“Should we go look for him?” Chuen asked, wringing her hands.
“You stay here in case he comes back,” he told her, moving towards the door. “I’ll go to Tecuhtl and tell him what’s happened. We may need to question Tlaloc about this. Let me know if Harry returns, or if you find anything else unusual. I’ll be at the temple.”
“Yes, Sir,” he heard her call after him. Practically running out into the courtyard, his eyes fixed on the temple, he pulled his wand and Apparated.
***
Harry was not making much headway in the thick jungle. Handicapped by his poor eyesight and less than adequate shoes for the terrain, his makeshift compass seemed to be pointing him in the most thick and overgrown patches of undergrowth. He had run up against all kinds of strange and unfamiliar creatures, and some dangerous looking plants. He was very glad now for his Herbology lessons; without the tutelage of Professor Sprout, he wouldn’t have known to walk around the patch of wild Mandrakes and may have gotten himself tangled up in some venomous tentacula to boot. As it was, he had come into contact with some sneezewort and had nearly forgotten that he was lost. Luckily, the effects wore off quickly before he had wandered too far.
When he finally broke through the dense jungle and came across a clearing he was relieved but frustrated to see the sun was beginning to dip into the horizon. That meant he didn’t have much time till the match. It wasn’t a huge jump to assume that Tlaloc or one of his supporters had done this to him. Harry was extremely grateful he wasn’t dead. They could have easily killed him when he was unconscious.
At that thought his brain went into overdrive. What if he had been dead and Ginny’s bond had been fulfilled? He hadn’t felt her all afternoon — what if she was… He couldn’t bear to think it.
Almost afraid of what he might find, he let down his Occlumency wall and searched his feelings for her. Overwhelming relief washed over him as he felt her, and he knew she had felt him there, too. He could almost feel her heart race at his probe, and then the love she harboured for him washed through his soul, giving him hope. For a moment, he revelled in the connection, remembering the pure white strand that connected the two of them. But after a few minutes, he knew he had to close it off. Standing here soaking in the essence of Ginny Weasley was not getting him home. Sighing, he put the shield back up and trudged on through the jungle — hot, weary, and hungry but with renewed purpose because he knew he had something to go home to when this was all over.
***
Tecuhtl had not been at the temple when Hunter arrived. When he did find the chief he was at the palace and, after hearing the situation Hunter found him less than helpful. In fact, he was not concerned for Harry’s welfare at all and even seemed rather complacent about the whole thing. The great chief of the island decreed that if Harry was who he “claimed” to be, then nothing would stand in his way. This was just another test to prove he was worthy. If the boy did not come back, then he was obviously not their Quetzalcoatl and an impostor. End of story.
When Hunter had suggested they confront Tlaloc, the chief had been even less helpful. Tlaloc had already gone to his place of mediation and the laws demanded that he not be disturbed. Hunter could question him after the ballgame, if he chose to do so. This behaviour was contradictory to everything Tecuhtl had done so far. It was almost as if he had decided to switch sides in the ninth hour and no longer believed that Harry was “the one.”
In a fit of rage, Hunter had stalked out of the palace. This time the great doors were blown to bits as he vented his frustration, and he didn’t even give them a second glance. He had more important things to worry about. If he didn’t find Harry, he’d have some very angry and powerful wizards after him… plus, he’d grown attached to the boy. And James would probably come back from the dead and haunt him to the grave.
‘Now what?’ he asked himself miserably.
A tiny voice in his head said, ‘Go find him.’ Listening to his instinct, he headed for the jungle. If someone wanted to get rid of the boy without killing him outright, then they would most certainly have headed for the jungle. He only hoped he was not too late…
***
Judging from the waning light, Harry assumed he had been walking for several hours now. The mosquitoes were beginning to swarm around him and the sweat was rolling off his forehead in rivers. His robes — the same ones he had worn last night to the ceremony — were torn and dirty, and he knew without even looking that he was a mess. But the worst of it was his feet. Thankfully, he was still wearing his sandals, but the heavy jungle overgrowth had torn up his feet nonetheless. They were bloodied from various prickly plants and swollen from walking. Every so often he was forced to stop and perform a scouring charm on them to clear the blood, hopefully preventing infection.
It was dusk now, and the jungle was getting darker by the moment. He knew that he didn’t have much time before the start of the game, and he wasn’t entirely sure of the consequences if he didn’t make it. The rules had stated that if he didn’t show Tlaloc would win and get to decide Harry’s fate. Knowing Tlaloc and the grudge he had against him that could mean anything. Having been drugged and dumped in the jungle might or might not be construed as cheating, but Harry didn’t hold much faith that he could use that as an argument. The natives held funny beliefs and he could see this turn of events working against him. Perhaps that was the point of all this. Certainly if they had wanted him dead, they could have accomplished that easily enough. No… it was more likely this was done to keep him from the ballgame.
But that didn’t really make sense either, Harry mused as he walked. Tlaloc had been playing this game for years and Harry only for a few weeks. It seemed insane that the man could actually think he was worthy enough of an opponent to risk getting caught cheating in order to ensure that he win the game. Harry knew the stakes were high and that Tlaloc had a vested interest in doing this to him, but he found it hard to believe that he even could beat Tlaloc. Sure he had been holding his own against Chac, but he had never allowed himself to think he even had a chance of beating the older, more experienced wizard.
“What are you doing here, my prince?” a hissing voice said from just above his left ear.
Harry didn’t need to look up into the trees to know that it was Macoa. His heart leaped into his chest. He wasn’t alone anymore!
“Macoa!” he exclaimed excitedly. “I’m so glad to see you! What are you doing here?”
“I am where I am supposed to be. But you did not answer my question, Harry Potter… Why are you here when you should be somewhere else?”
Harry almost laughed aloud at her familiar humour. “I’m not sure,” he said, sinking down to rest against the tree. Macoa slithered down and wrapped herself around his neck, making him feel warm inside at her touch. “I was ambushed last night and when I woke up this morning I was here. I’ve been walking all day trying to find a way out,” he told her.
“It is a good thing we crossed paths, then,” Macoa said playfully, “because you are headed the wrong way.”
Surprised, Harry retrieved the stick he had found and performed the spell again. In an instant he knew she was right; he had forgotten to check because he was so lost in thought about who could have done this to him. “I would have figured that out on my own, eventually,” he grumbled.
“I am sure you would have,” Macoa told him soothingly. “In fact, you are not far from the village now… just in the opposite direction.”
Harry brightened. “I am?” he said, jumping to his feet, carefully balancing the snake on his neck. “Then maybe we can still make it!”
He turned in the proper direction but was stopped abruptly by Macoa. “Put me down, Harry,” she said insistently. “I can not leave now.”
Harry stopped abruptly. “What do you mean you can’t leave?” he asked. “Why not?”
Macoa slid off his arm and started back up the tree. “Come and find out,” she said mysteriously.
Harry looked at the high tree with trepidation. “I don’t think I can,” he said. “It’s too high and I don’t have my broom.”
Dropping down so that she was eye level with him, she looked him squarely in the eyes. “That is your biggest obstacle, is it not?”
“What?” Harry asked, confused. “The fact that I’m stuck in the jungle without my broom?”
“No… The truth is, young one, you think you cannot do it, so you do not. You must know you can, and then do.” Harry mulled this over as she turned and continued up the tree.
What did she mean by this? He looked at her retreating form, his mind blank except for one thought: what it would be like to be Macoa, slithering freely up the tree? If only he was a snake…
He placed a hand on the trunk and suddenly something strange and totally unexpected happened. It was as if his body melted and reformed… changed, and before he realised it he was slithering up the tree. It had happened so fast, he didn’t have time to process what he had just done before he was there next to Macoa, peering down into a small nest nestled between two thick branches. Inside the nest was an egg — one solitary, iridescent, magical egg.
Harry gasped. “Is it yours?” he asked Macoa.
Macoa turned to him. “Yes, it is. It is my gift to you.”
“W-what do you mean?” he stammered. Too much had happened and his feeble mind couldn’t process it all.
“It will not hatch for some time I am afraid, but it will be a companion for your lady and will protect her when you or I are not able to be with her.”
Harry stared at Macoa in awe. “You did this for Ginny?”
“And for you,” Macoa confirmed. “When I saw the bond between the two of you, I knew that she was special. She is your soul mate and she is also a kindred spirit to me, is she not? She can speak our language, and that makes her unusual. I was sent to protect you, Prince, and in this way I am helping you by providing a means to protect your heart. Ginny is your heart. I am giving her and you the most precious gift I know to give… I am giving the two of you my heart.” She looked back at the shimmering egg with a mother’s pride.
Harry felt his throat constrict and he knew if he were in human form he might have felt tears swell in his eyes. “I-I don’t know what to say,” he managed. “Thank you.”
Macoa seemed to smile — or as close to smiling as a snake could get, he supposed. “You are welcome, my prince,” she said graciously. “Now it is time for you to get back. The hour of darkness is almost here and if you do not find yourself where you need to be, all could be lost.”
“But how am I supposed to get there?” Harry asked.
“How did you get here?” Macoa countered.
“I walked…”
“But you have no legs,” Macoa said. “You did not walk up the tree.”
Comprehension dawned on Harry like a lightning bolt. “I wanted something, and I allowed myself to have it.” He felt himself grow excited at the thought, drunk with the possibilities. “Is it really that simple, Macoa?” he asked.
“There is only one way to find out,” she answered. “What do you want, Harry?”
“I want to… to fly,” he answered hesitantly.
“Then think about what you want and allow yourself to be.”
Harry focused his mind on becoming a bird. He knew what kind of bird he’d be for the occasion… a quetzal, just like Hunter had called him. It seemed fitting somehow. Remembering the nuances of the small creature, he focused his mind on wanting to be a quetzal bird and then allowed himself to have it. In an instant he was beating his wings and soaring through the air like he had been doing it his whole life. Harry had never wondered what it would be like to be an Animagus, but in his wildest dreams he could never have imagined that he would be able to take two forms — a snake and a bird. If Macoa was right, then the possibilities were endless. He could be anything he wanted!
With renewed vigour, he flew towards the now visible lights of the village and the dark outline of the temple where he knew people were waiting for him. He had a game to play and by everything that was magical, nothing was going to stand in his way!
***
Stephen had been unsuccessful in finding Harry, even though he had looked all day. It was as if the boy had vanished into thin air. Every tracking spell he knew to perform turned up nothing, and he was growing more and more certain that whoever had done this was a powerful sorcerer. Only someone with a great deal of power and magical knowledge could have hidden him so well.
He was back now waiting at the ball field with the rest of the island, hoping to question Tlaloc as soon as it was declared Harry was a no-show. He wasn’t sure what the consequences of that would be, but he had a back-up plan just in case Harry did show up after the verdict. He had secretly made a Portkey that would Apparate them both to the nearest habituated island. From there he’d make arrangements to get them to South America and eventually home to England.
The beginning ceremony was about to start. Stephen surveyed the crowd anxiously. How would they react when Harry didn’t show up? He fingered the wands in his pocket — his and Harry’s — and hoped that he would have the chance to give it back to him. If he didn’t find the boy soon he knew he’d have Dumbledore and a number of other people set to murder him. He hadn’t told Harry about his meeting with the people who brought him. There had been four people, Remus Lupin and three others who met him at the destination point with an unconscious Harry…
One month earlier:
Stephen Hunter Apparated to the coordinates he had specified to the members of the new Order of the Phoenix, but he still had his doubts about this endeavour. He had a lingering, nagging feeling he shouldn’t be involved in this and usually he listened to his instincts. When he had left England, he swore he’d never get mixed up in anything having to do with Dumbledore again. The old man had made his choices and people had died. His wife and son… Lily and James. He’d told himself years ago that he would never put himself in this position again.
But here he was doing just that and he hated it with every fibre of his being. Since receiving the letter, Stephen had been in a right terrible mood. He was sure that even Chuen was glad to see him go because he had been snapping at everyone when he wasn’t secluding himself and scheming on how he could get out of this commitment. But it all came back to one thing… he owed this to James.
From what Dumbledore’s letters had said, Harry was now unconscious. They’d had some trouble earlier and were forced to sedate the boy, making Hunter even more leery about this situation. He wasn’t sure what the details were, but he’d make damned sure the boy wasn’t dangerous before he agreed to take him out of here.
Hunter paced as he waited. Waiting always made him irritable, especially when he was already on edge. The team who was meeting him was late.
The noise of the group arriving by Portkey made him jump.
“Could you have been any more obvious?” he growled to the haggard-looking group as they stumbled to their feet. “Whose bright idea was it to take a Portkey?”
The oldest of the group, a red-haired chap with a round, pleasant face held out his hand in greeting. “Stephen Hunter, I presume?”
Stephen shook the man’s hand but let go rather fast. He wanted to get this over and done with and he didn’t have time for pleasantries. “Yes,” he answered more sharply than he had intended.
“I’m Arthur Weasley.”
Stephen ignored him. Looking over at the group, he noticed them supporting a teenage boy with black hair and glasses. He was clearly still unconscious. Trying not to stare, Hunter couldn’t keep his eyes from landing on the famous lightning bolt scar on his forehead. So this was Harry. Even in the state the lad was in, Stephen couldn’t help but see the similarities between the boy and his old friend, James Potter. Hunter felt some of the ice surrounding his heart chip away, but he tried not to notice.
“Is that him?” he asked coldly, even though he knew very well it was. Hunter didn’t miss the looks of apprehension that passes between the group.
A man stepped forward with his hand outstretched. “Mr. Hunter,” he said cordially. “We’ve met before, although it’s been a long time. Remus Lupin.”
Hunter regarded the man with recognition. The werewolf… James’ best friend and a member of the group they had dubbed the Marauders. “I remember,” Hunter said more warmly. “How have you been, Remus?”
“Fine, thank you,” Remus answered. “Although recent events have been… difficult,” he said, glancing at Harry.
“He looks a mess,” Hunter agreed. “How long has he been out?”
“Almost five days,” Remus said regretfully. It was clear he cared a great deal for the boy.
Hunter nodded. “Any problems?”
The group exchanged another funny look. The girl with the spiky blue hair spoke up. They had laid the boy down on the floor and she was watching over him protectively. “He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named tried to possess him again, but Harry fought him off.” Hunter heard the unmistakable sound of pride in her voice. “Unfortunately,” she continued, “we had to stun him because he tried to run away from us. We’ve been keeping him sedated for his own safety.”
“Interesting,” Hunter said dispassionately. He knew all that from Dumbledore’s letter. Turning back to Remus he asked, “When do you want him back?”
“School starts the first of September,” Remus answered mildly. “Will that be enough time?”
“I’ll make it be enough time,” Hunter heard himself say. Even he couldn’t believe how cold he sounded. “Tell the old man this is the last favour I’ll do for him. I don’t appreciate having my life disrupted based on his whim.”
The younger man with red hair stepped forward, his face pink with anger. “Harry’s life is more important than you’ll ever know! If you don’t want to do this, then just say the word and we’ll take him home with us. Frankly, I don’t feel comfortable leaving him here with the likes of you, anyway.”
“Now Bill, I’m sure Mr. Hunter didn’t mean that like it sounded,” the older red-head said appeasingly, but he looked like even he had his doubts.
“I didn’t say I won’t take him,” Stephen clarified. “But I do have my doubts about getting mixed up with Dumbledore’s problems again.”
Bill stood face to face with him now. “Harry is like my brother,” he said in a low, threatening voice, “and my family means the world to me. He’s been through a lot, and I won’t have him treated poorly just because you hold a grudge.”
“Who says I hold I grudge?” Hunter said unflinchingly.
“Everyone,” Bill said angrily. “I did some checking up and I found out some things about you, Mr. Hunter. You don’t exactly have a clean past, do you?” The accusing look the boy was giving him was making Hunter furious, but he held it back for now.
“My past is none of your business,” he said evenly.
“When it involves Harry, I make it my business,” Bill said stubbornly.
“Now, son…” the older man said calmly. “This isn’t getting us anywhere. Albus thinks this man can help Harry, and frankly, I’m going to have to trust him on this one.”
Hunter turned his cold blue eyes on Mr. Weasley. “Trusting Albus Dumbledore may get you killed one day.” He was satisfied to see the man look visibly shaken. The tension in the room was so thick, Hunter’s words hung in the air. Everyone was at a loss for what to say, but a sudden cry from the girl made the men forget all about their difference.
“What’s wrong, Tonks?” he heard Lupin ask.
“His heart rate is very low and dropping. He’s starting to crash again,” she said, holding her wand over the boy and waving it frantically.
Hunter pushed them aside to examine the boy more closely. “What are you giving him?” he asked roughly.
“Just a mild sedative,” Arthur Weasley answered. “Nothing else.”
Hunter drew out his own wand and performed a series of diagnostic spells. “This boy has been given a mind-enhancing potion within the last two weeks,” he said accusingly. “Who can tell me about that?”
They all looked at each other blankly. Finally Remus Lupin spoke up. “No one told us anything about any other potions,” he said softly. “But it does make sense…”
“Of course it makes sense!” Hunter exclaimed. “Low heart rate, shallow breathing… what else could explain the traces of belladonna, fluxweed, and asphodel root in his system? This boy is dying due to your sloppy care! You’re poisoning him. Any fool should know not to mix sedatives and mind enhancing potions! You people have thrown him into a coma, and you didn’t even notice!”
The group exchanged another significant look. Tonks spoke up. “Wouldn’t Madame Pomfrey have checked?” she asked timidly.
“Poppy Pomfrey is a school nurse used to treating students,” Hunter snapped. “Unless someone suspected something, she would have no cause to check, and even if she did she probably wouldn’t have known the significance. But Dumbledore would have, if he had bothered to think of it. But no doubt he was busy,” he added sarcastically. He watched in satisfaction as they all exchanged worried, guilty looks.
“Can you help him?” Mr. Weasley asked anxiously. “It’s not too late, is it?”
Giving the boy one last appraisal, Hunter nodded. “It’ll be touch and go for awhile until I can rid his body of the poison, but with proper care he should pull through.” He gathered Harry in his arms, noticing how light he was and wondering if they were starving him, too. Despite his best intensions, he felt another chip of ice fall from his heart and wondered what it meant. Certainly there was no way he would ever be attached to this scrawny young man.
“So that’s it, then?” the younger man said disbelievingly. “How will we know he’s alright?”
“No news is good news,” Hunter told him. “If he dies, I’ll be sure to let you know.”
And with those parting words, he Disapparated on the spot, an unconscious Harry Potter held firmly in his arms. But even as they whirled towards home Hunter knew he was fooling himself. The boy had already made an impression on him and he knew he’d move heaven and earth to see that he pulled through this. He owed it to James and Adam. If the prophecy was right, then this boy was their only hope of defeating Voldemort and he wouldn’t let his son’s death be for nothing. He’d make sure Harry lived just so he could see Riddle pay once and for all.
***
The entrance of Tlaloc into the arena threw Hunter out of his memories. He felt so many emotions at the moment he didn’t know which one to pay attention to first. Anger, guilt, worry, frustration… they all mixed together and he balled his fists tightly to keep himself under control.
The drums had stopped beating and Tecuhtl was addressing the crowd, informing him of Tlaloc’s win by default when something strange happened. From out of nowhere, a small green Quetzal bird flew down and landed on Tlaloc’s head. For a moment it seemed as if Tlaloc was so surprised he didn’t know when to do, but then he reached up and tried to swat it off his head. The creature seemed to expect this and flew out of the way, finally fluttering down to the ground and suddenly it was gone and in its place stood a very bedraggled-looking but very much alive Harry Potter.
The crowd roared with approval; everyone had been waiting for this game for weeks and no one wanted to see Tlaloc win the competition by default. And Harry’s entrance into the arena was certainly a crowd pleaser. They whooped and yelled, clicking their tongues in approval. Hunter knew his own face was split in a permanent grin. He’d have to talk to the boy later about how he had learned to transform, but for now he was just grateful the boy was alive and looking none the worse for wear. The only ones in the arena who didn’t look pleased were Tlaloc, Masaya, and, surprisingly, Chief Tecuhtl.
The chief rose to his feet and held up his hand to stop the noise of the crowd. “Harry Potter,” he began in a flat voice, “you are on the verge of being disqualified. What do you have to say to defend yourself?”
Harry stepped forward obediently. “If you please, sir, I can explain.”
Tecuhtl nodded and Harry spoke, telling the arena of his kidnapping and trek through the jungle. The crowd seemed to be horrified at his tale but Hunter’s reaction was different; it was something akin to pride.
When he was finished, Tecuhtl addressed the competitors. “Are you prepared to live by the terms of the binding contract and compete in this competition, or do either of you wish to concede?”
Tlaloc answered first. “I am prepared.”
Harry also stepped forward, his chin jutted out defiantly. For a moment it was as if Hunter was seeing the boy for the first time. Only this time he wasn’t unconscious, sickly, nervous or troubled. This Harry could only be described as angry and defiant, strong and confident… determined and powerful. Hunter shivered because he knew, somehow, that this was the Harry that was powerful enough to defeat a Dark Lord hundreds of miles away and to wipe the floor with a pompous warrior who was standing in his way from going home. At the moment Hunter actually pitied Tlaloc.
“I am prepared,” he heard Harry say in a low, deep voice. A man’s voice.
Tecuhtl raised his arms and said in a booming voice, “Then let the game begin!”
[A/N: There are many deeper meanings to many of the elements of this story and each component was chosen specifically for a purpose (for example, Tecuhtl literally means chief… Xolotl is the twin brother of Quetzalcoatl in some Aztec mythology stories… ), so when you are reading, just know that I have done a lot of research and tried to make this story as meaningful as possible. I also have a lot of background information, specifically about Hunter. There’s more to him than just Harry’s mentor and I’m hoping to develop him even further as this series progresses.
Thanks to Arnel for her beta services, and a special thank you to Melindaleo and mbwun5 for their advice, encouragement, and wonderful brainstorming! They gave me some great ideas for the ballgame scene, which is helping me get it to you sooner. I appreciate all the time they have taken out of their lives to help me with this chapter.]
Chapter 13: The Ballgame
The Ballgame
Harry’s only dilemma now was that he didn’t have his glasses, which put him at a distinct disadvantage. That problem was solved quickly, however, by Stephen who broke away from the crowd and jogged up to him.
“Thought you might need these,” he said, holding the spectacles out to him.
Harry took them gratefully and put them on. Instantly everything came into focus, but he was so used to seeing by magic after a whole day that he had a hard time shaking the effects. He didn’t waste time worrying about it much, though; maybe it would come in handy during the match. It was like an extra sense that helped him see what was beyond the surface and he rather liked that. Still, it was nice to see properly again.
“Thanks,” he told Stephen sincerely. He turned to go but the older man stopped him.
“Harry-” Stephen said, his throat full of emotion. “I-I’m glad you’re alright.”
“Yeah,” Harry agreed with a quick grin for his mentor. “Me too.”
“Seriously… I was really worried about you,” Stephen continued. “I’d hoped you weren’t… but you’re not, are you? Do you know what happened?”
Harry shrugged. “All I remember is drinking something I thought Chuen left me, and then waking up in the jungle this morning. I have no recollection of how I got there. Have you got any ideas about that?”
“One or two possibilities,” Stephen answered, his voice low and dangerous. “Just watch your back tonight, Quetzal. Speaking of which,” Stephen grinned, “when did you learn that little trick?”
“Less than an hour ago.” Harry grinned back. “You’re going to love the other form I can take.”
“Other form? You mean you can take two forms? But that’s-”
“Impossible… I know.” Harry’s face grew contemplative. “But I’m finding out nothing is really impossible. It’s all a matter of knowing that you can do it. Speaking of which,” he jerked his head towards Tlaloc, “I have somewhere I need to be.”
“Of course,” Hunter said, straightening up. “Be careful out there. Just remember… once this is all over, you’ll be going home.”
Harry felt his face relax as he thought about what that meant. Home… back to England, Hogwarts, and Ginny. “That sounds fantastic,” he said out loud.
They were interrupted by the referee’s drum signalling the beginning of the match.
Harry and Tlaloc took their places at opposite ends of the court and Tecuhtl clapped his hands, signalling the start of the game. The referee tossed the ball in the air and the game began.
Harry let Tlaloc take the ball first. He was much better at defence than offence, and he prepared himself for Tlaloc’s attack with a Shield Charm, which he got up just in time to block Tlaloc’s curse. Harry wasn’t sure what curse he had just blocked, but he knew it was powerful because the impact of it hitting his shield jarred him and that never happened when he played with Chac. Hunter’s spells could do that to him, but Hunter was terrible at keeping the ball in play while throwing curses.
The ball came flying towards him; Harry used his left hand to bat it back towards Tlaloc, over the line that divided the court and separated his side from Tlaloc’s. He had figured out this strategy a few weeks ago, shortly after he had started playing with Chac. In order to keep his tasks separate, he used his right hand for casting spells (offence) and his left hand for shields and to keep the ball in the air (defence). He still had trouble casting all of the spells he knew using the magical bands alone without the aid of his wand, but he had worked out the majority of the important ones — at least the ones he knew would be useful in this competition.
As he batted the ball back to Tlaloc, he let off his own curse, a small Stunner which Tlaloc easily deflected. Play continued on this way for some time with neither gaining much headway. Harry was beginning to grow frustrated that nothing seemed to faze the warrior, but he had expected that so he tried not to let it bother him too much. His hours of hard training were paying off for him; at the moment he felt strong enough to keep this up for hours. But he was growing bored with the constant back and forth of the ball and the blocking of the same spells. He knew the crowd had come to see a competition, and a competition was what he planned to give. The sooner he ended this, the faster he could prepare to leave.
Remembering what Macoa had advised him in the jungle, he began by pooling some energy in his palm as he batted the ball away several times without returning a hex. He could almost feel Tlaloc’s confusion at this tactic because he had learned it was very unusual for an opponent to not return a hex. Usually when a player failed to perform a return spell, they were nearing the end of the game and invariably losing. Harry wanted to give the impression that he was tiring to knock Tlaloc off his guard so that he could get a hex in.
Just as Tlaloc’s third hex came at him and was deflected, Harry felt he had enough energy built up to cast a really good hex. Remembering who he was doing this for, he returned the ball and cast Ginny’s Bat Bogey Hex simultaneously, using all the power he could muster behind it. It worked. The hex hit true and Tlaloc was not able to defend himself from the giant Bat Bogeys flying around his face. Harry was satisfied to see the large man flailing around and knew he would be occupied for a few minutes trying to figure out how to get them off him since he had probably never seen anything like this particular hex before.
Tlaloc was distracted enough to let the ball drop, giving Harry a point. Unfortunately, once the hex was lifted he was faced with a very angry warrior. Tlaloc’s pride had been wounded, probably because Harry had gotten in the first hit and the first point. According to what Chac had told him a few days ago, that had never happened before.
Before long Harry became aware that his hex had awoken a sleeping giant. Tlaloc was angry now and volleyed the ball back forcefully, throwing a Slicing Curse at Harry that cut through his shield and grazed him on the left arm. Not being able to compensate in time, Harry lost his balance, toppled over backwards, and dropped the ball giving Tlaloc back his point.
He stumbled to his feet with as much grace as he could muster, feeling foolish as the crowd cheered their approval. He knew they had cheered just as hard when he had gotten the point, but it still stung to have others witness his stupid mistake. He could have avoided that curse if he had been paying better attention. Steeling his resolve to not let Tlaloc get through his shield again, Harry doubled his efforts, putting as much power behind the shield charm as he could afford.
Play continued, growing more brutal with each effort. Harry and Tlaloc returned the volleys spell for spell, each one more powerful and devastating than the last one. Harry managed to get a Bludgeoning Spell past Tlaloc’s shield, while Tlaloc sent a series of Stinging Hexes back towards him that left small, painful welts on his arms, legs, and chest. In less than a quarter of an hour, the points had begun to rack up and each player was sporting various injuries, but still managing to stay in the game. Harry was beginning to grow weary, as much from the game as from his jungle ordeal. He was filthy, dripping with sweat, and his once white robes were tattered and torn. At one point he had no choice but to disregard his modesty and discard his shirt because it was only getting in the way, literally hanging off him in shreds.
Knowing that he was growing weak from hunger and fatigue, Harry began to form a strategy in his mind. Tlaloc was very powerful and a much more experienced ballplayer; he was currently leading in points at the moment. At this point Harry knew his only hope of winning this thing was to get the ball through the hoop. That would ensure his victory and a quick end to the game since he knew he’d never make it to 100 points. He knew that it was easier to plan to do this than to actually do it since the hoops were very high, impossibly small, and any shot had to be dead centre, but if he could distract Tlaloc enough he thought he might have a chance. Now he just had to think of something that would distract him enough…
The image of Hermione setting Snape’s robes on fire came to mind first, and he grinned. That just might work here, too, if he could manage to get past Tlaloc’s shield. But perhaps he wouldn’t be expecting two hexes at once… As the ball came back to him, Harry threw his hand out and imagined the small round object slowing down, waiting for just the right moment. Then he sent Tlaloc a Jelly-Legs Jinx followed immediately by a Flame Hex he had been practicing with Hunter. It was part of the elemental spells they had started practicing since receiving the bands. As expected, the first jinx was deflected off the shield, but the Flame Hex was very quick and powerful. Tlaloc’s only choice was to dive out of the way. Harry took that opportunity to send the ball hurling towards the hoop, but Tlaloc managed to see what he was up to out of the corner of his eye. Rather than lose the game, he risked getting burned by Harry’s fire by whipping his hand up to knock the ball off course. His efforts lost him a point as the ball hit the ground, burning his hand slightly in the process. But he had saved himself from losing.
Tlaloc’s return volley almost lost Harry the game. Using Harry’s tactic against him, Tlaloc produced a dust storm by producing some wind, and then somehow managed to bind Harry with magical ropes. For a second Harry thought he was through as he watched the ball sail toward the hoop, and he wished with all his might that something would stop the ball from going in. To his amazement, the ball changed gears and flew off in another direction, losing Tlaloc another point.
It was then that something clicked in Harry’s mind. Something Macoa had said… what was it again? My greatest obstacle is myself. Hadn’t he changed himself into two forms tonight? If that was possible, what else could he do?
For starters, Harry looked down at the ropes and imagined them neutralized. Instantly they fell to the ground and he calmly stepped out of them, ignoring the excited chatter from the crowd as he broke free from the bindings. Feeling different somehow, as if he had just figured out a great secret but wasn’t ready yet to share, he knew without a doubt that he would win this game.
To test his theory, he summoned the ball to him with his magic and imagined it hanging in the air above his head, feeling astounded when it did just that. Then, with a flick of his hand he gathered some piles of dirt from the ground and imagined them forming into shapes. Soon three animals stood in front of him… a big shaggy dog, a regal looking stag with pointed antlers, and a fearsome Jaguar. He knew where the first two had come from, but he was slightly confused about the third. It didn’t matter, though, because Tlaloc along with everyone else in the arena was staring at him with open amazement wondering what he had planned.
Not easily defeated, especially without a fight, Tlaloc took off his belt and waved his had over it, transfiguring it into a staff. As the animals charged, the warrior defended himself skilfully with the weapon, knocking them back. But with three on one, it was impossible to fully defend himself and it was the jaguar that finally got through and pounced on him.
As Tlaloc and the jaguar rolled over and over, Harry imagined the ball, which was still hovering obediently over his head, shooting through the air like a rocket and into the hoop — and that’s exactly what it did.
Relief washed over him and through him as the referee signalled the end of the game. It was over. He had won. As the crowd cheered he sunk to his knees, grateful to be alive and to have that over with; he hadn’t realized what a toll it had taken on his nerves until this very moment, knowing that he was through. Soon he’d be packing to go home and this would all be a distant memory…
The cheering crowd had reached such a decibel level that it took a great deal of persuasion on the part of the officials overseeing the ballgame to get them quieted down. Harry didn’t care, though. It was nice to just sit here and rest. But before he knew it, someone was helping him to his feet. Wearily, he tried to focus on his surroundings as the crowd began chanting his name… or the name of who they thought he was — Quetzalcoatl. He didn’t have the energy to stop them or even protest, so he just let them go on, concentrating on putting one step in front of the other and ignoring the dizziness.
The person who was helping — he didn’t know who — led him over to stand in front of Tecuhtl beside Tlaloc, whose face was a mask but with traces of anger and shame. He too looked exhausted with burns, cuts, and scratches all over him. It was far from the friendly face Harry had witnessed on the night he had woken up on the island; there was no handshake or smile for him like there had been for Chac. Trying to get a better read on him, Harry reached out with his Legilimens and was shocked to find fear there as well. What did he think Harry was going to do, anyway? The game was over.
Before he had time to process this all, the chief had stood up and the crowd was suddenly quieted. A great feeling of anticipation was in the air and it was clear the crowd was waiting to hear what their leader would say to the competitors.
Tecuhtl’s face was unreadable as he launched into his speech, and Harry barely heard anything he was saying. It was basically the same sort of thing he had witnessed earlier but, thanks to Stephen’s language spell (which had oddly not worn off yet), Harry was able to understand it all. What he was focused on was something he had picked up when he probed Tlaloc’s mind. He was still in the process of reading Tlaloc’s mind when he picked up a totally separate image from Chief Tecuhtl… it was anger and an image of a plot to get him — Harry — out of the way.
Rage burned through him, hot and pure. This person had endangered his life and in the process, put Ginny at risk. If Tecuhtl had decided to have him killed out in the jungle then Ginny would have died instead, and the thought of that nearly drove him wild with anger.
“It was you!” Harry blurted out coldly. Suddenly, the fact that he was dirty and tired and hungry didn’t matter anymore; in front of him was a threat and his actions needed to be exposed. “You’re the one who had me kidnapped! You left me in the jungle to die, and you purposefully wanted to sabotage this game by getting me out of the way!” He felt his anger building and the serpent inside him begin to awaken, but he made no effort to tamp it back down. The crowd behind him began murmuring loudly at Harry’s accusation.
“You’re insolence is beyond reproach!” Tecuhtl roared, making the crowd gasp. “Remember who you are talking to, foreigner!” His eyes flashed power and his face was twisted with anger.
Harry’s anger tripled. He and Tecuhtl were squared off against each other and neither noticed the sky darken suddenly. The air suddenly began to crackle with electricity and, in an instant, the sky erupted in thunder and lightning, causing some to scream in panic.
“No!” Harry yelled back, his voice ice cold with fury. “You remember who you are talking to! I never asked to come here. In fact, from the moment I stepped foot on this island, all I’ve wanted to do was go home. You were the one who insisted on this game in the first place! And now I find out that you’re intention all along was to embarrass me… to discredit me! I never claimed to be your stupid Quetzalcoatl, you know!”
“You may not have,” Tecuhtl retorted, “but you, Harry Potter, are dangerous… a dangerous threat that had to be eliminated! I have watched you more closely than you can imagine. You are powerful, yes… very powerful. Much more than even you realise. When Tlaloc came to me with his plan, I hesitated at first. But after you came waltzing into my palace with your twin carrying the sign of Ehecailacozcatl on your chest, I had to take you seriously. I don’t know how the two of you managed that trick, but as soon as I saw it I knew you were perhaps one of the greatest tricksters of all time, and my enemy.”
“I don’t understand,” Harry interrupted. “Why would I want to trick you? I told you what happened. Why would I want to make something like that up?”
“For power!” the old man roared. “The sign of Ehecailacozcatl is the sign of the Gods. The Ancient Ones would never give that to a foreigner!” The crowd and everyone in the arena were dead silent.
Harry felt, rather that saw, Hunter Apparate to his side but he remained silent… waiting for Harry to say what he needed to say. Still, it made him feel better to know he wasn’t alone — he had Stephen on his side, at least. Tecuhtl’s words bounced off the thick air reverberating like a drum, and the sky continued to grow angry and ominous.
“So… let me get this straight,” Harry said more calmly, but still with a cold edge to his voice. “You think because I am a foreigner, I am a trickster and a liar. I couldn’t possibly be your Quetzalcoatl… your Defender of Humanity, because I was not born on this island.”
Tecuhtl’s eyes narrowed coldly. He stared at Harry but did not correct him.
Harry stared back at the old man defiantly. “You are just like so many of the people from my world… power-hungry and prejudiced. You are so wrapped up in your own affairs and holding on to the little bit of power that you have that you refuse to see the world from any other perspective! You treat your women, your own wives and daughters, like objects to be bought and sold or to walk behind you and serve you like a dog. You manipulate, lie, and cheat… doing the same things you accuse me of, yet you hide behind your delusion that you are doing it for a righteous purpose and, therefore, that makes it all right. You’re pathetic!” Harry ignored Tecuhtl’s protests, turning to Hunter instead. “Will you take me home now?” he asked him tiredly.
“Home to the villa or home to England?” Hunter asked with a twisted smile.
“You choose. I don’t care… I just want to get out of here.”
Hunter was about to answer when a shill scream broke through the damp night air.
“Imacaci!”
The crowd stirred and the muttering started. The voice, a woman off in the distance, shrieked again, crying and desperate. “Imacaci… Imacaci in the village! Please help me! Imacaci in the village… help! My children! Help me!”
Hunter and Harry exchanged looks; Harry had no idea what that word meant, but whatever it was had the people in an immediate panic. Everyone immediately began screaming and yelling, thrashing about to get out of the way… out of the arena. The strange word, Imacaci, began to bounce around the air like a ping pong ball, inciting even more panic.
Harry fought to stay on his feet as a mass of people started swarming around him, struggling to get out. “What’s going on?” he yelled towards Hunter, who was also fighting to not be trampled.
“There’s been an attack in the village. It’s the Imacaci.” Hunter’s face and words were laced with worry.
Still fighting the crowd, Harry shouted, “Who’re the Imacaci?”
Hunter’s eyes met with Harry’s and he held his gaze. “Imacaci means fear. They are the most feared creatures on Tlilli Tlapalla, but you and I know them as Lethifolds.”
Harry’s mouth dropped open. “But they’re-”
“Deadly, dangerous, dark creatures… yes, I know,” Hunter said grimly. “Unfortunately, they’re found in abundance in the tropics. Why do you think this island still trains warriors, Harry? It’s not immune to dark creatures. In fact, because the island was made by magic it attracts all sorts of magical creatures, Light and Dark alike. Tlaloc and his friends have been hand-picked to deal with this sort of problem. Unfortunately, the Patronus charm is one of the only known methods of repelling the Lethifold, and only a very strong Patronus will repel one completely.”
“Don’t they know how to produce a Patronus?” Harry asked.
“Remember when I said that certain charms work better when cast with a wand?” Hunter answered. Harry nodded. “Well, the Patronus is one of them. The most powerful warriors can produce a weak Patronus, and if enough of them are produced at once they can drive one away. I’ve been trying to get Tecuhtl to try crafting wands just for this purpose, but he wouldn’t even consider the idea because it was not traditional… it had never been done before and I suspect it was too Western, or too foreign, for his taste. Now it’s a moot point; the village is under attack.”
“Why now?” Harry asked. “Why tonight?”
“The excitement of the game, I suppose,” Hunter said, shrugging. They had finally made it to an alcove where they were relatively protected from the rushing crowd, although they had to talk loudly to be heard above the screams and panic. “Lethifolds are like Dementors in that they are attracted to strong human emotions. However, they only attack at night and, unlike Dementors, they eat their prey. Someone in the village has obviously been attacked.”
Harry shivered. He hated Dementors and if Lethifolds were anything like them, he was sure they were horrible. But something Hunter said had stuck with him. “I can cast a Patronus, but I’ll need my wand,” he told Hunter excitedly.
“Harry,” Hunter said doubtfully. “Only a very strong Patronus, a Corporeal Patronus, will have any effect at all. I don’t think-”
“My Corporeal Patronus repelled over a hundred Dementors!” Harry insisted. “That was three years ago. I can do it, trust me. I’ve been doing that charm for a long time.”
Hunter looked shocked but reached into his pocket. “Why am I even surprised?” he said, shaking his head. “The more I learn about you, the more amazed I am at your abilities. But you’ll be needing this…” he said, handing Harry his wand.
Harry reached out and grabbed the familiar stick, grasping it tightly and watching in satisfaction as tiny red sparks emitted from the tip. It felt right to have it in his hand. The bands were useful, but they couldn’t replace the feel of his wand in his palm.
“What about you?” Harry asked him. “Can you produce a corporeal Patronus?”
Hunter grinned. “I’ve never repelled a hundred Dementors with it, but I don’t do so badly with that charm, myself. Are you sure you want to do this? You’ve never faced an angry Lethifold before; they can get quite nasty when provoked.”
“Positive,” Harry said determinedly.
“Then let’s go… On three, let’s Apparate to the centre of the main housing area. That’s where the Lethifolds will go. They like to prey on the weak, usually when they’re sleeping.”
Harry looked around. Most of the crowd were strong males, and most were very high-class. “You mean women, children, and old people, don’t you?”
“And the sick or disabled,” Hunter agreed. “Only the higher class were invited to the game; that included most of the warriors of the island. Tecuhtl should have anticipated something like this happening, what with all the excitement surrounding it and all. Most of the working class was left at home, defenceless.”
“Well, why are we wasting time then?” Harry said firmly. “Let’s go help.”
“Okay,” Hunter nodded. “On three… One, two, three!”
Harry closed his eyes and with a twist of his wand he disappeared with a small ‘pop’.
When Harry opened his eyes again he was back in the middle of chaos. Villagers were in the street, screaming and running and warriors were headed in the opposite direction with determined looks on their faces. An old woman was crying in the street over what looked like the body a man — perhaps her husband — but it was difficult to tell because the body was so mangled and mutilated it barely resembled a human. It looked like it had been dragged or dropped there by accident. Harry racked his brains, trying to remember from his Dark Arts classes how Lethifolds attacked. For some reason he thought they smothered their victims then devoured them whole. If that was the case, then perhaps the Lethifold had been caught in the process and tried to flee before he could finish his meal, dropping it in the street for his wife to find. Harry could hear wailing and crying all over the village and knew there were more victims, more family members out there grieving for their loved ones. It made him angry to see it and even more determined to help in any way he could.
Catching sight of Tlaloc up ahead, still battered and bleeding from the ballgame but looking truly heroic as he ordered his men about and spouted off commands, they stopped. He and Hunter exchanged a form of silent communication, and they both agreed that approaching him first would probably be the polite thing to do.
“Tlaloc!” Harry yelled above the din of the fleeing and screaming villagers. “We want to help!” The large warrior turned his head and for the first time Harry could see something that looked suspiciously like respect evident in his dark eyes.
But he held up a hand to stop them from going any further. “This is not your fight,” he said firmly. “Thank you for coming here, but we can manage this on our own.”
Hunter ignored him. “How many are there?”
Hesitating, Tlaloc answered. “So far we have reports of five dead so far but more are missing. That leads us to believe we are dealing with five or six Imacaci but we know they like to travel in pairs and they often lurk in the shadows, waiting for more victims. Some think the number may be closer to ten Imacaci.”
“Ten!” Hunter exclaimed. “When was the last time you had ten at once in the village?”
“Never,” he answered reluctantly. “We have never dealt with more than four at once, and that took twenty strong warriors just to drive them away, although we sustained a few casualties in the process.”
“We can help,” Harry told him.
Tlaloc shook his head. “I acknowledge that I may have been mistaken about you, Harry Potter,” Tlaloc told him, sounding very sincere. “But this is something we’ve been trained to do for many years. It is our job. You should go home where it is safer.”
Harry’s eyes blazed. “I wish everyone would bloody well stop underestimating me! I’ve been trained, too. These creatures… these Imacaci are nothing more than Lethifolds. I know the charm that can drive them away and, meaning no offence to you or your friends, Hunter and I can each do the work of twenty men.”
“I do not understand. How can you make such a claim?” Tlaloc asked suspiciously.
Hunter held out his wand. “With this.”
Tlaloc looked confused. “What is that, and how can it help us?”
“Why don’t you show him, Harry?” Hunter suggested.
Harry drew his wand and pointed it at a nearby empty street. Thinking of Ginny, he yelled confidently, “Expecto Patronum!” and was rewarded with the familiar form of Prongs tearing down the cobblestone, his hoofs clattering musically as he cantered to a stop.
Harry walked up to the stag and laid a hand on his silvery nose. “I have a job for you,” he told the beast who snorted and stamped his paws restlessly, as if itching for some action.
“There are dark creatures about, Prongs, and I need you to help find them and drive them away. Can you do that for me?” Harry asked softly. The stag bowed his head and stamped his foot in answer. “Good,” Harry said, stroking its neck. “You’ve never let me down before, have you?” he crooned.
“Okay, boy,” Harry said, stepping back. “Go get’em! Find them for us!”
The stag reared and raced away down the street, out of sight. Harry turned back to Hunter and Tlaloc who were both staring at him in open amazement. Harry knitted his brow in confusion. “What’s wrong?”
Hunter was first to speak. “You can talk to your Patronus?”
Harry shrugged; he didn’t think it was as big a deal as Hunter was making it out to be. Certainly others could do it too, right? “Can’t you?” he asked Stephen. “I thought you said you could produce a Corporeal Patronus.”
“I can,” Hunter nodded, his eyes still wide. “But I’ve never seen one like… like that before, Harry. Every Corporeal Patronus I’ve ever seen, including mine, may take a shape but it’s still just vapour. What you just did… well, it’s supposed to be impossible.”
Tlaloc was looking between them both curiously. “What happens now?”
Hunter shrugged. “I’m not sure. I’m in new territory here, myself. Harry, do you know?”
Harry, still slightly embarrassed that he had once again shown his ignorance of the Wizarding World, sighed deeply. “I suppose we just wait and see what Prongs comes back with,” he offered. “I’ve never used him for anything other than Dementors or Boggarts who look like Dementors, and you can feel them when they’re near. This is new ground for me, too.”
“Something tells me we’re not going to have to wait long,” Hunter said slowly, his eyes focusing down the alley where Prongs had disappeared.
The others looked in that direction too and, sure enough, they could see the shining form of Prongs in the background but in front of him, gliding along the surface of the street like an unnatural, black cloud were a group of Lethifolds fleeing for their lives from Harry’s raging, snorting Patronus. Their thick, black cloaks seemed out of place in the tropical heat and, to Harry, even at this great distance they smelled of death.
“Now what?” Harry asked the others. None of them had expected Prongs to find them so quickly or to bring them back their way. “They’re headed right for us!”
“We need to get them out of the village,” Hunter said. He held his wand in front of him tightly in what Harry knew was an Auror’s stance. Someone had shown him that last year at Grimmauld Place, but he couldn’t remember who… Kingsley, maybe, or perhaps Tonks.
“We can drive them back into the jungle,” Tlaloc said, pointing towards the western side of the island where the dense jungle could be seen.
“But won’t they just come back?” Harry asked.
Tlaloc’s face was grim. “Yes, but it will provide us some time to gather our defences again. We have never found a way to destroy them permanently.”
“What about the ocean?” Harry said suddenly, his eyes alight with the possibility. “Can they swim?”
“We have never been able to drive them anywhere even close to the water,” Tlaloc said thoughtfully. “They seem to avoid it at all costs.”
Hunter appeared to be thinking about Harry’s idea too, even though his eyes never moved from the shadows which were drawing closer with every breath. “It’s worth a try,” he said finally. “But we’ll need a plan. Tlaloc… we’ll need more men, more warriors.”
Tlaloc looked towards the group of Lethifolds, which were almost on them. “Can you hold them here?” he asked.
Hunter and Harry exchanged looks and Harry nodded. “We’ll do our best,” Hunter answered. “Find as many people as you can and station them along the side-streets down the main thoroughfare. Four at each escape point should do it. Have them save their efforts until the Imacaci are close and then focus their energy to create a sort of blockade. The Imacaci won’t have any choice but to keep going straight. This road leads straight to the Ocean and if we time this right, we may be able to force them in. With any luck the bloody bastards will drown!”
The sky behind him, still black and ominous, rumbled dangerously and lightening exploded in the horizon but Hunter ignored it. “Go quickly!” he ordered Tlaloc. “I’m not sure how long we’ll be able to hold them off, but we’ll try to buy you enough time.”
Tlaloc disappeared and Hunter turned to Harry. “How long will your Patronus last?” he asked him quickly.
Harry shrugged. He was preoccupied trying not to breathe too deeply. The stench of the creatures was horrible. “As long as I need him, I suppose,” he answered.
“All right…” Hunter said determinedly. “Here they come. You try to get behind them and I’ll block them off with my Patronus. If yours fails, then try to cast another one. If you can’t, I want you to get out of there as fast as you can, Harry. I mean it… no heroics. These things would sooner eat you than pass you by. They’re extremely dangerous when provoked.”
Harry nodded. “Don’t worry about me, Hunter. Just you stay out of their way.”
Hunter didn’t get the chance to respond. The black cloud was on them.
“Expecto Patronum!”
Harry blinked as a silver jaguar exploded from Hunter’s wand. If the situation hadn’t been so dire, he would have laughed. So that’s where the inspiration for the jaguar had come from back in the arena! The jaguar leapt at the moving shadows and Harry heard them shriek in fear. It was a terrible sound, ear-splitting and scratchy, and it sent shivers right down to his toes. The Lethifolds were among the most horrible creatures Harry had ever seen. They were similar to Dementors but lower to the ground, seeming to glide or crawl horizontally, like a shadow. Harry could just imagine the terror of waking up from a deep sleep and finding one overtop, sucking all the air out of his lungs.
They were definitely agitated and ready to pounce on anything living. Sensing the two humans in the vicinity, they scattered and began to move in circles, swirling like a whirlpool of darkness, their tattered cloaks billowing behind them. Prongs and Hunter’s jaguar were doing their best to contain them, but there were too many. Harry counted eleven.
Suddenly Prongs reared as one of the creatures on the edge bolted. Harry looked up just in time to see the thing coming at him, tackling him to the ground. He fought to stay conscious as his head made contact with the stone street and the thing on top of him opened its hood, drawing a shallow ragged breath. In horror, Harry felt the air leave his lungs and knew he was in danger of being another victim.
Chapter 14: It's Not Over Yet...
[AN] To my loyal readers: Thank you for being patient with me during this substantial lull in updates. For those of you who hadn’t heard, my husband was transferred to Camp Zama, Japan from Fort Bragg, NC and we have been in the process of moving overseas for the last few months. This was very unexpected and quick but we adapted and now, three months later… here we are. My family and I are finally settled into our new home and have gotten over jet lag and culture shock. We have our household goods, a house, and the kids are both back in school. Driving is a bit scary, but thankfully I don’t have to do that often. We’re even learning a bit of the language so that we can communicate off-post. Frankly, we are loving Japan and beginning to get back into a routine even though things are very different here. Living on a military post helps bring all the comforts of home, but outside the gate is a totally different world. All in all, we are adjusting well. I am still committed to finishing this project and the rewrite of Home Alone, for those of you who are reading that one. Thank you again for hanging in there with me.Disclaimer: This story is written for fun, not profit. My only rewards are the wonderful reviews I receive and the encouragement of others to continue, as well as the practice I get that might one day help me to publish something of my very own. The concept for this story is mine but everything else belongs to JK Rowling, and I thank her for letting me play in her universe.
Harry fought to stay conscious but it was a losing battle. The Lethifold seemed to be sucking all the air out of his lungs and he felt light-headed, almost giddy. Some part of him knew this was it for him, and he almost welcomed death. It would bring an end to all this. If this was dying, it wasn’t so bad really… If only Ginny were here in this nothingness with him…
“No!” he tried to scream, finding it in him to fight at last. If he died then Ginny would take his place. He couldn’t allow that to happen.
With all his might, Harry fought back but it was useless. The thing was on top of him; like a magnet, it was pulling him towards its hideous mouth under the horrible black, tattered robe. He felt himself being levitated almost tenderly towards the horrible mouth where the hideous stench was the worst, and he knew he didn’t have the energy or even the desire to fight anymore.
‘I’m sorry, Ginny,’ his mind screamed out because he knew he had failed her once again. For one last blissful moment he felt her mind meld with his and he drank her in like oxygen to his dying brain.
‘Bam!’ His head hit the cobblestones again as the Lethifold dropped him abruptly. Suddenly, by some miracle, he could breathe. He gasped painful gulps of the night air and coughed as it came rushing back into his lungs, clearing away the remnants of the blackness. Opening his eyes and straightening his glasses tiredly, he was soon able to focus on a concerned face swimming about above him.
“W-what happened?” he managed to choke out.
“You were almost invited to dinner as the main course, kid,” Stephen said dryly. Harry could see that his face was ashen and his hand was slightly trembling as it gripped his shoulder tightly. “Luckily, I saw it go for you and was able to send out my Patronus in time. I wasn’t sure it was going to make it in time.”
“Thanks,” Harry told him sincerely as he climbing shakily to his feet. “I owe you one.”
Stephen grinned. “I’m sure I’ll be collecting one of these days,” he said mildly. “There were Lethifolds everywhere but Prongs and Jezebel were able to hold them here for a bit. Hopefully it gave Tlaloc and his men enough time to get into position along the street. If they were able to keep them contained, we may have a chance to destroy these creatures once and for all. Are you sure you’re alright?”
“I’m okay,” Harry assured him, rubbing his throbbing skull. “Just a small bump on the back of the head.” He raised his face to the sky, now black as ink. There were no stars visible. It was like a giant black glove was pressing down on the island, trying to squeeze out every bit of happiness and light in the place.
Harry felt a shiver of fear rise up his spine and settle at the nape of his neck, and he knew without a doubt that whatever this was it was just beginning. The Dark Forces of the universe had found him somehow, and they were preparing a battle against him that he wasn’t sure he was strong enough to repel. Whatever this was, it was stronger than anything he had ever faced, including Voldemort. It was the thing, the entity, that gave Voldemort his power, and it was pressing down on them like a heavy weight.
“We need to get to the market square. That’s where Tlaloc will have the hardest time containing them. Do you need side-along Apparition? That was a nasty blow to the head,” Stephen said, his wand already in position to Disapparate.
“No, I’m fine,” Harry said stubbornly, drawing his own wand. “Don’t worry about me. I’ll meet you there.”
But as Stephen disappeared, Harry couldn’t help pausing. Looking up once again into the blackness, wind whipping his face violently and picking up speed, he closed his eyes and concentrated on the one thing in his life that he trusted... the person who kept him grounded and gave him hope.
As always, he found her through their connection. She was laughing — probably at something the twins had concocted — but he felt her pause and acknowledge his probe with concern, her emotions raw and anxious. He could only imagine what she must be feeling, trying to act normal but at the same time getting flashes of what he was feeling — how close he had come to death — and knowing she could do nothing to help him. It must be torture, he decided.
Then and there he made a promise to himself. As soon as he got back, he’d find a way to undo this bond. As much as it would hurt him to do it, he couldn’t continue to put Ginny’s life at risk any further and he certainly didn’t want to cause her any more pain. It had to end, whether he liked it or not.
Resolved, he used his Occlumency to block her out, took a deep calming breath, and Disapparated.
***
Stephen had his hands full when Harry finally appeared beside him. He was trying single-handedly to control his jaguar Patronus, Jezebel, who was chasing down two Lethifolds trying to make an escape. At the same time he was barking orders to people along the crowded street. Many of the town’s villagers had congregated on the outskirts of the square trying to see what was going on; Harry knew without being told that their presence was inciting the Lethifolds. The warriors were having a difficult time controlling the group of Lethifolds because they smelled the fear all around them and they were doubly excited by the scent of it in the air. In some ways, Harry supposed, it was working to their advantage, distracting the dark creatures enough to allow Tlaloc’s warriors to get in place.
“Harry!” Stephen yelled above the noise. “Watch those three on the left!”
“I’m on it!” Harry yelled back, raising his wand sharply and calling forth Prongs to deal with them. He watched in satisfaction as the great silver stag galloped smoothly over the cobblestones and attacked the fleeing creatures with his sharp antlers, effectively driving them in the opposite direction towards the ocean.
“We have to block access to that street up there!” Stephen said, struggling to be heard over the wind and the panicked cries of the crowd, as well as the shouting of the twenty or so warriors trying to protect the people and fight off the Lethifolds with their weak spells. Their efforts were working somewhat, but at best their spells could be described as bothersome, like gnats at a picnic — annoying but harmless. Still, the warriors were fighting bravely and somehow Tlaloc’s men had managed to keep them contained and on the path to the ocean. Harry had to admire their tenacity and determination to protect their people.
Without planning it, Harry’s reflexes kicked in and, with a flick of his wand, he conjured up a wall of iron as tall as the surrounding buildings to block the path of the fleeing dark creatures. He wasn’t even aware he knew the incantation for that particular spell, but he didn’t have time to think about it because Prongs had corralled the last of the Lethifolds and was driving the group like a herd of frightened sheep towards their only escape route, the street that led directly to the ocean.
“Keep them together, Harry!” Stephen called out from up ahead and to his right where he had ended up after chasing off a group of creatures trying to attack one of the warriors. “I’m going on ahead to make sure there aren’t any escape points!”
Harry didn’t bother to respond. He took off after the fleeing dark mass of death at breakneck speed; at the same time Stephen Disapparated. Ignoring his protesting muscles already weary from a day’s trek in the jungle and his long-forgotten match against Tlaloc, Harry trudged on wearily by foot trying to keep up with the fleeing demons. Prongs was doing a fabulous job of herding the creatures and, surprisingly, was not fading a bit. Stephen’s Patronus had dissipated into mist shortly before he Disapparated, but Prongs was still shining like a silver sun and only seemed to be growing brighter. Harry couldn’t explain it, but he felt the power inside him growing too. It was building steadily along with the darkness and wind roaring wildly around him.
As he neared the ocean he could hear the waves whipping against the shore with loud cracks. The noise was deafening. He could tell the Lethifolds could hear it now too because they suddenly became even more agitated and began to swirl around each other in a kind of sinister dance, reminding Harry of the Dementors back in his third year when they swooped in to perform the Kiss on Hermione, Sirius, and himself. They let out howls and shrieks of fear and anger that could be heard above the crashing waves and whistling wind. The sounds around him blended together into a sort of eerie ensemble that sent shivers down Harry’s spine.
Up ahead he could just make out the opening and the ocean beyond. Somehow they had kept them contained, but now it was up to him to make sure none of them escaped. It was time the Dark was struck a blow, and it was his job to see that it was done. Harry had never felt such a sense of certainty in his whole life. The only thing that even came close was when he was with Ginny, but this was different. It was his duty… his destiny calling. Whistling for Prongs, he watched with bated breath as the stag pranced obediently over to him and dropped his head in a sort of bow. Harry patted his solid form, running a hand down his silver back. Dare he try it?
Prongs raised his massive head and looked him straight in the eye with his dark silver orbs and stared. A form of silent communication passed between them and before Harry knew it the massive animal was kneeling, ready to accept his master.
Thrilling at the prospect of riding his own Patronus, Harry readily accepted the invitation and grabbed hold of whatever he could find in order to hoist himself up. Once seated on its back, the stag righted himself and before Harry was fully prepared Prongs took off excitedly, galloping at breakneck speed towards the screeching mass of darkness fighting to find an escape.
Harry was so focused on not falling flat on his face that he barely noticed the startled people he passed or the shocked expression on Stephen’s face at seeing him riding Prongs. None of it mattered. All he needed was to finish the task and rid the world of one more evil. He might not be able to do anything about Voldemort right now but this… this was something he could accomplish.
Finding the rhythm of the galloping animal, Harry pressed in with his knees to balance himself. This allowed him some freedom of movement, giving his hands the ability to cast spells without being tied to the stag’s neck. Drawing his wand, he conjured up a sort of glowing cage that encompassed the creatures and him but kept everyone else out. The Lethifolds spun and swirled around him in anger and fear.
For a moment Harry regretted this plan because it left him very vulnerable. He was in the centre of a cage of his own making with more than twenty dark creatures surrounding him, intent on eating him. The sky was rumbling now and looked ready to open with a torrent of rain at any moment.
Prongs pranced nervously as several Lethifolds rushed forward, screeching angrily as they were repelled by the glow of the Patronus. Harry hadn’t taken notice of it, but the moment he had scrambled on Prong’s back he had been encased in a sort of bubble that shielded him from attack. The problem was that the power it was taking to maintain the spell was draining his tired body and with every attack he felt himself grow weaker and weaker. If he didn’t get them in the water soon, it would only take a few more attempts to break through the shield and he would be defenceless.
Outside he could hear the shouts of the people, especially Stephen. They were yelling at him to get out of there, but Harry refused to listen. This was his mission now and the longer he could contain them, the greater chance he had of disposing of them once and for all before someone else died. Kicking Prongs sharply with his heels, he spurred the stag onward, forcing the Lethifolds along with them, still screaming angrily.
Only a few more meters of go…
Suddenly the largest of the creatures attacked, and then several more. Fiercely Harry fought them off but with each wave he felt the protection around him slipping until finally with a small ‘pop’ it was gone and he was defenceless. The next attack would be his undoing. With every once of energy he had left in him, Harry reached out with an invisible hand and pushed the creatures screaming and writhing far out into the ocean where they were consumed by the crashing waves, now at least ten feet high or higher.
Harry lay panting on the beach alone; Prongs, having dissipated moments before, was nowhere to be seen now as he lay on the cold sand watching the creatures drown. His eyes swam with exhaustion and his body hurt from every pore, but he was alive. He could still hear the echo of the screams from the doomed Lethifolds when Stephen and the others caught up to him.
“Harry!” Stephen panted, dropping down to one knee beside him. “Are you alright?”
Harry’s teeth were chattering uncontrollably but he managed a weak nod.
“We need to get him back to my house,” Stephen told someone. Harry managed to focus enough to see Tlaloc, with Masaya standing behind, leaning over him, concern shining on their faces. “He’s going into shock,” Stephen said as he conjured a thick woollen blanket out of thin air to wrap around Harry’s shaking shoulders.
The wind was fierce now, and the blackness suffocating. Harry was aware that he wanted to warn Stephen about something but his fuzzy brain couldn’t quite focus on what, exactly, he needed to tell his teacher. It was something vitally important, but his mouth wouldn’t… couldn’t form the words. His head lulled to the side from the effort of keeping it upright and his eyes began to swim with blackness.
Blackness.
He had to warn them about the blackness…
No… the Dark.
Yes, that was it — the Dark Forces. They were coming for him. He could feel it now pressing down on the island. They were angry that their minions had been destroyed and they were out for revenge.
Harry grabbed hold of Stephen’s tunic and pulled him closer. “It’s coming,” he managed painfully. “Go… Temple. Now!”
“What’s coming?” Stephen asked, panicked.
With everything he had, Harry managed one last word before he passed out. “Dark,” he croaked, and then his world dissolved into nothingness.
Stephen looked up at Tlaloc. “What do you think he meant?”
But Tlaloc’s eyes had already been drawn to the sea and to the exact spot where the Imacaci had disappeared. The water, previously rough, was now churning like a giant whirlpool. The wind suddenly had become a gale force, practically knocking them off their feet, and all around them the rain began to fall abruptly in torrents.
“Get the people to the temple!” Stephen shouted, shielding his mouth, nose, and eyes from the rain, wind, and sand. “I’ll take care of him and meet you there!”
“I’ll help!” Masaya offered, moving over to kneel next to Harry.
“Get hold of his shoulder there,” Stephen ordered as he picked up the thin, soaked youth in his strong arms. “We need to Apparate to the Temple just as quickly as we possibly can. Do you think you can do that?”
Masaya nodded bravely. “I can do it.”
Balancing Harry between them, Stephen counted to three and simultaneously the three of them disappeared; at the same time the warriors rushed to get the people to the shelter of the temple as quickly as they could.
Chapter 15: Another Prophecy
Disclaimer:The characters and situations of Harry Potter depicted in this story are the legal property of J.K. Rowling, Bloomsbury, and AOL Time Warner, and have been used without permission. No copyright infringement is intended.
No profit is being made off this story. It is for entertainment purposes only.
“Another Prophecy”
The sound Harry woke up to was silence. The wind, so fierce and unforgiving hours before, had died down to a gentle breeze and the sun was peeking out from the doorway of the Temple. He lay on a cot inside the top building and as far as he could tell there had been many people here too, but there was no one in sight at the moment. Various belongings and makeshift sleeping mats littered the floor. It looked as if the crowd had not been gone long and had left in a great hurry.
He tried to sit up, but his body was too weak and wouldn’t respond. Every fibre of his being hurt and moving only exasperated the pain. Involuntarily he moaned softly and shut his eyes tight, his face screwed up in a grimace.
“That bad, huh?” a voice above him said, nearly causing him to jump out of his skin in fright. He opened his eyes to see the shadowy figure of Stephen Hunter standing over him blocking the sunlight.
Harry groaned again. “You have no idea.”
Stephen chuckled and pulled up a small stool to sit on. “Oh, I have a pretty good idea. Here,” he said, handing him a steaming mug of liquid. “Drink this, it’ll help.”
Harry managed to pull himself up somehow, with Stephen’s help, and sniff the mug which, to his surprise, didn’t smell too terribly bad. He was used to Madame Pomphrey’s nasty potions and draughts. This smelled almost good.
“What is it?”
“A restorative potion,” Stephen said. “My own recipe.”
Harry took a drink and was surprised that it went down smoothly and pleasantly. It reminded him a bit of hot cocoa, actually. Immediately his muscles stopped aching and his head cleared.
“Thanks,” he said. “I needed that.”
“It’s no wonder, Quetzal,” Stephen said with a wry, teasing grin. “You had a busy day yesterday.”
“What happened after I passed out?” Harry asked, suddenly feeling anxious. He remembered the fight to move the Lethifolds out to sea and the impending move of the Darkness over the island that followed, but after that his mind was a blank.
“A hurricane blew in and we had to take cover.” Stephen pulled his eyes away. “We, uh… brought the whole village here for shelter. Luckily it didn’t last long. As soon as we got you here the storm blew over. Still, it caused a fair bit of damage and everyone’s been trying to sort it out. Many families are also making burial arrangements.”
“That’s strange about the storm,” Harry said, perplexed. “I’m sure I felt….” He shook his head. “Never mind. Let’s get out of here, all right? I’m sure you want to check on your house.”
Stephen brought his eyes back to rest on Harry. They bore into him with such intensity that Harry couldn’t pull his gaze away. Instantly he knew there was more.
“You can’t leave.”
“What! Why not?” Harry cried.
“Tecuhtl has ordered the warriors to keep you here where it is safe,” Stephen said. “He thinks that an ancient prophecy has come true and that, as long as you take shelter in the temple, you are safe.” His demeanour showed Harry everything he needed to know.
“You agree with him, don’t you?” It wasn’t really a question because Harry already knew the answer.
“I don’t know what I believe. I watched you do the impossible last night, Harry. You rode your own Patronus, for God’s sake Harry, and you eliminated a group of one of the most deadly enemies this island has ever known, practically single-handedly.”
Hunter held up his hand to silence Harry’s protests. “I know, I know… you had help. But ultimately it was you that cast the spell that finished them. When the storm broke, it was fiercer than any I have ever seen in my life. It was like something dark and black was coming for you. I was powerless to stop it.” He looked Harry in the eye. “You know it, too, don’t you?”
Harry nodded mutely. He had felt it coming all night and couldn’t deny it.
“The moment Masaya and I made it to the temple with you,” Stephen continued, “the winds seemed to howl in anger and protest and then, magically, it was over. The people who had made it here already were afraid. Others began to arrive and you didn’t wake up, but the storm had passed, so we prepared to leave. That’s when Tecuhtl appeared with a scroll in his hand written in the old script. I only know a bit of it, but I knew enough to determine he was speaking the truth.”
“What did this one say?” Harry asked quietly.
Stephen rubbed his temples tiredly. “The child of thunder and lightning will come. He will destroy the enemy with his light, but the Dark will see. To escape the Darkness the child will seek shelter in the Temple of the Gods, and for a time there will be peace. But soon enough the Storm will return, and Darkness will reign until the end. At the midnight hour the Prince will battle the Serpent. The Prince will fall into the Shadow, and his choice will decide the fate of the world.”
Harry stared, stunned. “What exactly does that mean?”
“It means,” Stephen answered wearily, “that this is far from over.”
Harry shivered. “So I’ve got to make a choice, and my answer will determine how this all ends,” he said, summing up what Hunter had said.
Stephen sighed softly. “Remember, Harry. This is just an old prophecy. It doesn’t mean anything unless you want it to.”
“I don’t understand,” Harry said, frustrated. “You just said…”
“Prophecies are tricky things, Quetzal. They only come true if people make them.”
“So I can quit then?” Harry said, surprised. “Are you joking?” He had never thought he had the option of quitting.
“Certainly you can quit,” Stephen told him. “But the question really is do you want to?” He sighed again, heavily. “Listen Harry, as much as I don’t want to say this, I feel I must give you the facts straight. People can choose to run away from their destiny… history is full of cowards who just packed up and left or committed suicide rather than face their problems. But is that what you really want to do? Do you want Voldemort to win because you decided to quit?”
Rage and shame flooded Harry’s senses. There was no way in hell he wanted Voldemort to win, but he had to ask….
“Stephen, if I refuse to fight, won’t there just be someone else who will? Why does it have to be me who’s got to face him?”
“There will always be people out there who choose to fight,” Stephen told him honestly. “But are they capable of winning, Harry? It’s true that others may be able to thwart him from time to time, but are they able to defeat him once and for all or are you the only person with the unique tools and abilities who is able to do that?”
Stephen shook his head. “Harry, you and I both know your life has been heading for this moment from the beginning. Surely you see that by now. Everything points to the fact that you are the Chosen One. For whatever reason, the burden has fallen to you, and now you must decide what to do. No one can make this decision for you, Harry. No one.”
Stephen got up and wandered away, leaving Harry to his thoughts. So it came to this, he mused. He had a choice… but did he really? Somehow Harry knew didn’t. He couldn’t be true to himself and not fight. Voldemort had already hurt so many people, and many more had the potential of becoming victims. People he cared about… even loved. He couldn’t let Voldemort win and so, his decision was already made.
He would fight, even if it meant he was doomed to fail. “I’ll fight for you, Ginny,” he whispered softly, lying back on the cot and closing his eyes. He’d fight for Ron and Hermione, the Weasleys, Remus and Tonks… everyone he loved and cared about. That was his choice.
***
Noises from the entrance of the temple roused him from his meditation. Harry picked himself up off the cot and went to investigate, hoping it was Tecuhtl making an appearance. He had loads of questions for the old man, starting with why he had set him up in that unfair match and then dumped him in the jungle so he couldn’t compete.
It wasn’t Tecuhtl, however, but Chac and Tlaloc. Chac raced forward and caught Harry up in a large bear hug.
“My brother!” he exclaimed happily. “It is good to see you well. My people are indebted to you for ridding us of the Imacaci. We can not thank you enough!”
Harry stepped back, embarrassed but pleased with Chac’s enthusiasm. “You’re welcome, but I didn’t do it alone.” He nodded towards Stephen and Tlaloc; the young warrior was standing close by with a contemplative scowl on his face. “Stephen helped, too. And without Tlaloc and his men, we wouldn’t have succeeded. They chased the Lethifolds down to the ocean. Without them, we couldn’t have done it.”
“You speak with humility and modesty, young warrior,” Tlaloc said approvingly, if a bit stiffly.
Stephen laughed and slapped Tlaloc on his back, causing the warrior to glare at him menacingly but with a hint of humour behind his serious expression. “I wished you could have said that two weeks ago, mate. We could have avoided all that nasty ballgame business.”
“That is why I am here, Xolotl,” Chac said. “The Imacaci interrupted the closing ceremony of last night’s competition and our laws demand that the winner and loser be given counsel with the chief. My father would like to meet with you here in the Temple at midday when the sun is at its highest.” He turned to Harry. “I am to bring him your answer, my Prince, as soon as possible.”
Harry’s face reddened at the title. He certainly didn’t feel like a Prince in his tattered, dirty robes, his body battered from his ordeal, but he knew playing along would guarantee him an audience with the chief whom he desperately wanted to talk to.
“Tell your father that I am anxious to meet with him,” he said tightly, ignoring Stephen’s raised eyebrow. Clearly he was surprised that Harry had agreed so readily.
Harry turned to go but Tlaloc stopped him. The large warrior surprised everyone by awkwardly bending down on one knee and bowing his head humbly. “My Prince,” he said shakily. “I have come to the Temple of the Gods to ask your forgiveness and mercy. I have no excuse for my behaviour except that I was blinded by love and jealousy. I know now that you are the One our ancestors predicted would return, and I gladly accept any punishment you deem appropriate.”
“You don’t owe me anything, Tlaloc,” Harry assured him. “I’m just happy that my time on this island is over so that I can return home to my friends and family, well and whole again. I think I understand why you did what you did and, although I’m not thrilled with the events that have taken place over the past several weeks, I can forgive you and move on. I don’t want to be engaged, much less married. Masaya is a beautiful person, but she’s not for me. Please believe me.”
But Tlaloc did not get up. He stayed on his knees and looked up at Harry, practically begging him. “Please, my Prince. For Masaya’s sake, do not reject her. It is a fate worse than death for a Mixtec woman to be rejected by her intended. I lost the battle for her hand in marriage and now that honour is yours. I know you will treat her kindly…”
“But I don’t want to get married!” Harry said, panicking. A wife, especially one he did not love, was not something he needed or wanted at this juncture of his life. Besides, Ginny would murder him.
“Perhaps” Hunter said quietly from behind Tlaloc, “I could suggest a solution.”
***
Harry paced the Temple entrance feeling like a prisoner. So far he had heeded Stephen’s advice to stay put until told he could leave, but it was difficult. He needed to get out of here and see for himself the damage the storm had caused, and find Macoa. He was worried about the snake and her egg. Had they survived the storm and, if they did, where were they now?
He paused to shield his eyes from the climbing sun. Chac and Tlaloc had left hours before, promising to deliver the message to Tecuhtl and accompany him back to the temple. Harry was nervous; the plan had to work or he’d be forced to make a terrible choice — one that could potentially ruin a young girl’s life.
Several ‘pops’ from just outside the doorway drew his attention and it wasn’t long before Tecuhtl entered followed by Chac, Masaya, Tlaloc, and several others Harry recognized as the referees from the night before and some important people in the Mixtec government.
“Harry Potter,” Tecuhtl said stiffly, stopping before him. “On behalf of my people, I thank you for your services in ridding us of the Imacaci.”
“Er,” Harry said hesitantly, “thanks.”
The chief then paused and seemed to struggle with himself before going on. “I… regret my actions of late and have come to ask your… forgiveness.” To Harry he sounded as if he practically choked on his last word. Clearly he didn’t think he needed forgiveness for anything, despite everything he had done.
Harry’s anger surfaced. “Do you mean getting me involved in an unfair match in order to further your own agenda, or dumping me in the jungle to try and discredit me?” he asked coldly.
Harry’s comment sparked the chief’s own anger, but he controlled it tightly. “I did what I felt I must to protect my people.”
“Why do they always use that tired excuse?” Harry muttered sarcastically, thinking Tecuhtl and Fudge could be best mates.
“Harry,” Stephen said with a warning tone, “this isn’t getting us anywhere.”
Harry acknowledged his teacher respectfully and brought his anger in check. “You’re right, Stephen, I’m sorry.” He turned back to Tecuhtl and asked, “So, is this why you wanted to meet with me? To ask forgiveness and give me excuses for your actions?”
“In part,” Tecuhtl answered calmly, ignoring Harry’s disrespectful tone. “There is also the matter of finishing the closing ceremony from last night’s match. Our laws demand that this is done,” Tecuhtl told him.
Harry nodded. “Let’s get on with it, then.”
Tecuhtl turned to Tlaloc. “Last night, my son, you played a very cunning and difficult game that showed your skills as a warrior and leader of men. The level of competition was very high but you handled yourself in such a way that your people can look upon you with pride. Even though you did not win you should not despair — there was honour in your loss.”
Next, he turned to Harry. “Your skills as a magician both on and off the ball field are remarkable. I unfairly judged you, my son, and I was wrong to believe that you were not worthy to hold the legacy of Quetzalcoatl. You are an honourable man and a great warrior. Surely you have the favour of the Heavens shining down upon your head. Your brother’s fate now lies in your hands.”
Remembering what he had to say, Harry replied earnestly, “May Tlaloc live a long and prosperous life.” He bowed first to Tecuhtl and then to Tlaloc, who returned his bow graciously.
Tecuhtl frowned slightly, probably confused at the cordiality between the two former enemies, but continued. “So be it, my son,” he said haltingly. “You are blessed among warriors for your mercy. Choose your reward, Honoured One.”
"I only ask one thing," Harry said firmly. "I ask that Masaya be allowed to choose whomever she wishes to be her husband."
Masaya gasped. She looked hopefully between Harry and Tlaloc, a large smile forming on her face. "You would do this for me?" she asked, sounding astounded.
Harry walked over to her, mindful of Tecuhtl's frown, and grasped her hand tenderly. He looked deeply into her eyes and said as kindly as he could, "Masaya, you are a human being and have the right to choose the person you will spend the rest of your life with. You and I both know that person isn’t me. We are from two different worlds and our hearts belong elsewhere. It would be wrong on many different levels, don't you agree?"
She nodded her head emotionally, fighting to hold in the tears of gratitude. "Thank you, my Prince," she whispered.
"No," he said honestly, "thank you. This situation could have been much harder if you had decided to fancy me instead of Tlaloc. I'm in no position to provide any girl with a stable life right now. You are beautiful and intelligent, a true princess, and you deserve to be with someone who loves you." He looked up at Tlaloc and grinned. "I'm not certain what you see in the bloke, but he's a lucky man and a great warrior. I wish you both a lifetime of happiness."
He started to move away but Masaya caught his hand. "And I, too, wish you happiness, my Prince. I understand what you said about not having time for love, but I see the light of love in your eyes, Harry Potter, and I know there is someone you care for a great deal waiting for your safe return. Do not turn your back on love, my Prince. If anyone in this world deserves love, it is you."
Harry swallowed hard because her words had struck a chord. He missed Ginny so much yet, as much as he had missed her and wanted to be with her, he knew what had to be done. He wouldn't be able to continue on if something happened to him and the life bond activated. He could never allow her to give up her own life to save him, no matter what the circumstances. It would be like cutting off his right arm. Somehow he had to undo this spell that connected them. Only then could he feel free to face Voldemort and end it once and for all. Where did love fit in that?
Instead he said quietly, "I will consider your words. Thank you, Masaya."
Tecuhtl raised his voice definitively, although he sounded pained to do it. "It shall be done as you ask, Honoured One."
Stephen cleared his throat noisily. "I think that concludes the ceremony, then. My student and I will be preparing to leave at morning's light. We will need transportation to the outside of the enchantments that surround Tlilli Tlapalla so that we can Portkey to the nearest city."
Tecuhtl turned to Stephen respectfully. "It shall be done, Xolotl. So," he said tentatively, "you will be leaving with the boy?" He seemed almost relieved by this news, and Harry suspected he couldn't wait to be rid of them. For the first time the man broke out in a genuine smile that only faded when he caught sight of Masaya and Tlaloc talking together quietly in the corner of the room.
"That's right," Stephen said cordially, apparently not noticing Tecuhtl's change in disposition. "I've decided to return to England. I have some… unfinished business there."
Harry turned to Stephen, bewildered. "You're coming back to England? For good?"
Stephen shook his head from side to side slowly. "I can't say it'll be for good, Quetzal, but I will guarantee I'll be around long enough to watch your back through this thing. I have my own reasons for returning to England and they have everything to do with revenge. I promised myself a long time ago that I would see Voldemort damned to hell for what he has done, and I intend to be there when he gets what’s coming to him. Besides, I also want to make sure that your Occlumency shield is strong enough to repel his attacks, and I can't very well do that from here, now can I?" he said flippantly.
Harry laughed. "You don't trust me, eh? Don't think I've learned my lessons well enough?"
Stephen stung his arm around Harry's shoulders. "There's one way to find out. Besides, I want to meet this mystery girl you've neglected to mention to me."
"I don't know what you're talking about," Harry said, playing dumb.
Stephen wagged his finger at Harry playfully. "Don't try and hide it from me, Quetzal. You know I have ways of making you talk."
Stopping and crossing his arms defiantly, Harry said teasingly, "I'd like to see you try, old man."
"Old man!" Stephen repeated incredulously. "Old man!" His eyes narrowed and for a moment Harry thought maybe he'd taken the joke too far. Then an evil glint came into Stephen's blue eyes and he knew he'd gone too far. "We'll see about that, kid. We'll see who has the last laugh." He turned his back on Harry, still muttering about pompous kids who thought they knew everything and how he'd get his comeuppance soon enough.
"Hunter," Harry exclaimed worriedly, racing to catch up with him as the older man exited the temple. "You know I was only joking, right? I didn't mean it…"
They continued to bicker with each other for a good long while as they prepared to leave, but it was all in good fun. Deep down Harry suspected that Stephen was just as relieved as he was to finally be going home.
[AN: I may have mentioned to some that this chapter was called "Leaving" but at the last minute I decided to change it to the current title. I think it fits better with the overall plot and gets the point of this chapter across much better, don't you think? The next chapter has us finally catching up with "present" day time at the Dursleys. Thanks to Arnel as always for her fast beta work and to Melinda for all her good advice.]
Chapter 16: Back to the Dursleys
Disclaimer:The characters and situations of Harry Potter depicted in this story are the legal property of J.K. Rowling, Bloomsbury, and AOL Time Warner, and have been used without permission. No copyright infringement is intended.
No profit is being made off this story. It is for entertainment purposes only.
“Back to the Dursleys”
The Dursley’s Dining Room Table…
Harry looked up from where he had landed on the dining room table into the screaming face of Claire Smith. Next to him Stephen was trying to untangle himself from Bill’s legs; Bill had landed on the bottom of the heap and was groaning softly from the weight. Luckily the table had already been cleared for pudding or they might have landed in a huge mess of food and dishes.
“Y-you!” Claire screeched, pointing mutely with one hand at Harry, her other covering her mouth in shock. “Where did you come from?” She seemed to be looking up, trying to find a hole in the ceiling.
“How dare you barge into out home!” Vernon bellowed, rising from the chair, his face purple with rage. “I will not have it!”
Aunt Petunia was on her hands and knees hopelessly trying to salvage the remnants of her pudding now smeared all over her once pristine, spotless rug. Harry thought she looked as if she wanted to be sick all over the floor, but he knew she wouldn’t. It would make even more of a mess.
Dudley was staring at Harry as if he wanted to murder him for interrupting his date with Claire, but was too afraid to actually say so. His mouth was clamped shut in a thin harsh line that made his face look even more comical than usual. His eyes were blazing.
“I said, get out!” Uncle Vernon continued screaming. “You have no right-”
“Shut it, man,” Stephen commanded, “or I’ll shut it for you!”
“How dare you!” Vernon cried out, his eyes bulging widely. “Last summer it was bloody owls and this summer people are falling through the ceiling. I want you all out of my house, especially you!” he said, pointing a stubby finger at Harry.
“We’d be happy to oblige you, Mr. Dursley,” Bill’s voice echoed from underneath Stephen, “as soon as we figure out what caused us to land here. Just allow us to get off the table first, please.”
Bill and Stephen had finally disentangled themselves from each other and all three were gingerly trying to get off the table as gracefully as possible. Thankfully Harry’s backpack that carried Macoa and her egg landed on top. He quickly checked to make sure his friend and her offspring were all right and was relieved to find them miraculously unhurt. Macoa hissed softly to Harry that she would stay out of sight until he sorted things out.
“What happened?” Stephen asked Bill. “Is this your idea of a joke or did someone on your end nause it up as usual?” He looked accusingly at the younger man, who bristled.
“I have no idea what’s going on,” he said angrily. “As far as I knew this Portkey was supposed to land us at Headquarters. The only way it wouldn’t is if-”
His face paled.
“What?” Harry said, alarmed.
“…is if something happened.” Bill’s eyes were wide and from the look on his face he had clearly not expected this to happen. “It was a safety measure Moody insisted on,” he added quietly.
“Mad-Eye Moody, the Auror?” Stephen asked.
“Ex-Auror,” Bill corrected. “He’s retired now but working for the Order. He insisted on adding a little something to the spell just in case something unexpected transpired and Harry needed to be rerouted to a safe-house. We’ve been worried since Sirius died that our headquarters has been compromised. The Black family had many enchantments placed on the house and, since Sirius was the last of the Blacks, well… we thought one of the relatives might make a claim and compromise our position.”
“You mean Narcissa Malfoy?” Harry asked.
“Yes, and Bellatrix, although as an escaped convict she wouldn’t be able to make a legitimate claim to the property. But that won’t matter when it comes to the wards.” Bill looked to Harry. “Actually, I know Dumbledore was planning on telling you anyway Harry…” His voice lowered to a gentle tone. “Sirius, he… well, he left everything to you.”
Harry’s throat constricted tightly. “He did?”
“Who left him what?” Vernon interjected quickly, his anger momentarily put aside.
All eyes swung to the fat man at the head of the table. “Harry’s Godfather left him his family fortune,” Bill said coldly, seeming to enjoy taunting Vernon. “Harry’s rich.”
“Fortune?” Vernon repeated, his eyes bulging. “And you never thought to tell us your convict Godfather was dead and left you a fortune, boy?”
“It never came up, and I didn’t know about the money,” Harry said just as coldly.
“But you knew he had died and you didn’t tell us,” Vernon accused.
“Since when do you care what happens in my world?” Harry said, spitting out the words furiously.
“Since your blasted Godfather died and left you money!” Vernon roared. “After everything we’ve done for you-”
Harry whipped out his wand and pointed it at Vernon threateningly. “I’d shut up if I were you, Uncle Vernon. I don’t have time for this,” he growled.
Vernon seemed to deflate a bit but he didn’t back down. “I know you can’t use that thing. Did you forget? They’ll chuck you out.” His eyes gleamed triumphantly.
Next thing Vernon knew he had two more wands pointed at his throat.
“But we won’t, will we?” Stephen said icily. He got up close to Vernon’s face. “I know all about you, Dursley. I saw in Harry’s mind what you did to him when he was growing up in this house.”
Vernon cowered, beads of sweat forming on his fat forehead. “T-That’s impossible…”
“Is it?” Stephen said, sounding slightly mad. “I know you used to lock him in the cupboard, how you refused him meals… how you hit him. I know everything.”
Vernon blanched.
“That’s enough, Stephen,” Harry said sharply. “We’re wasting valuable time. Obviously something happened to activate the safety backup in the Portkey.” He turned to Bill. “Who’s at Grimmauld Place now anyway?”
Bill startled, and then looked scared. “Moody, Mum, Ron, Hermione, and Ginny.”
Harry felt his equilibrium give way and his heart drop through his chest. Everyone he cared about, in jeopardy. It was too terrible to think about.
“We have to get back there,” he said sounding more in control than he felt.
“It’s too dangerous,” Bill said firmly. “We don’t even know what’s happened.”
“I don’t care,” Harry said, drawing his wand and preparing to Disapparate. “I’m going.”
Stephen grabbed his arm. “Hold on Quetzal, don’t go doing something stupid. A good Auror never rushes into a situation until he knows the facts. You could put them and yourself at risk, not to mention taking the chance of Apparating into a dangerous situation that could put you right in the hands of Voldemort himself. That would ruin everything.”
“I can’t just do nothing,” Harry yelled. “They’re my friends! Ginny…” He looked around wildly but all his eyes landed on were Dudley’s stupid face, his arms encircled around a confused-looking Claire.
Harry was just about to disregard both Stephen and Bill’s advice and Apparate straight to Grimmauld Place, Voldemort be damned, when the ceiling seemed to open up and two bodies came tumbling down with a thud to Claire and Aunt Petunia’s screams and Vernon’s swears; Dudley was still mute, as if in shock. Harry immediately recognized Hermione’s bushy brown hair and Ron’s ginger locks.
“Harry!” Hermione gasped, jumping up quickly from the floor.
“Hermione, Ron,” Harry exclaimed, running over to them and jerking Ron up roughly. “What’s going on?”
“We don’t know,” Ron said, his face white. “Mum just thrust this cup in our hands and we ended up here.” He held the silver goblet with the Black family crest on it up for them to see.
“Those are the emergency Portkeys,” Bill said. “They’re keyed by a special code word that only Order members know. The destination depends on the word.”
“I heard her say something about an alarm sounding, and we had to get out of there,” Hermione added breathlessly, her hair practically standing on end from the Portkey journey. She turned to Bill. “Do you think it’s V-Voldemort?”
“Maybe,” Bill said. “But it could be anything. Dumbledore put several layers of alarms around the house. It could be that one of them was tripped. Our Portkey’s safety back-up probably activated when the alarm at Headquarters sounded, which is why they sent you here.”
“Where’re Ginny and your mum?” Harry asked fearfully.
“Ginny was in her room where she always is these days,” Hermione said. “Mrs. Weasley went to find her but she insisted that we go on ahead.”
“You mean she’s still in the house?” Harry said, his jaw clenched painfully.
“Yes,” Hermione confirmed. “As far as I know.”
“Damn it, Stephen,” Harry raged at his teacher, pacing wildly. “I have to get there. I have to help her!”
“There’s nothing you can do, Quetzal,” Stephen insisted. “I’m sure they’ll be along.”
“But you don’t know that,” Harry persisted. “What if they’re in trouble?”
“What if they are?” Stephen shot back. “What good would it do to lose you as well? It’s too big of a risk, Harry.”
“What would you say if that was your wife and son, Stephen, the people you loved most in the world?” Harry asked quietly. “Would you just be able to shrug it off and wait?” He fixed his eyes green on Stephen’s blue ones, man facing man.
They were still staring at each other in a standoff when the doorbell rang.
“For God’s sake, I wonder who that is!” Uncle Vernon said. “More freaks, I’m sure,” he muttered sarcastically.
Aunt Petunia spoke up for the first time. “I’ll get that,” she said sourly.
“I’ll go with you, just in case,” Bill said, still eyeing Harry and Stephen wearily, neither of which had moved a muscle. Aunt Petunia looked as if she’d rather dye her hair blue than have Bill accompany her, but didn’t put up a protest.
It turned out to be Lupin and Tonks with Harry’s luggage. Both seemed relieved to see them.
“We went back to Headquarters,” Lupin said, oblivious to the tension in the room, “but the house wouldn’t appear. The only thing I could think of was to come here. I’m glad we found you. Does anyone know what’s…” Remus’ voice trailed off as he took in Harry and Stephen’s angry stances. “All right there, Harry?” he asked, shooting Stephen a suspicious frown.
“No, Remus, I’m not all right,” Harry retorted angrily. “Supposedly an alarm went off at Headquarters and so far Ginny and Mrs. Weasley are unaccounted for.”
“I’m sure it’s nothing,” Remus said mildly. “We’ve set the alarms around Headquarters to be very sensitive; you know how paranoid Mad-Eye is under the best of circumstances. Anything could have done it.”
Just then the ceiling opened again and out tumbled Ginny and Mrs. Weasley.
“Ginny!” Harry jumped forward to pull her up off the floor as Bill assisted his mum, who appeared to be limping.
His heart was pounding in his chest as he gathered her into his arms. The moment his arms encircled hers the block he held on his emotions came tumbling down with a crash, causing his senses to be flooded with her emotions. He heard her gasp and knew she felt it too. Her strong reaction in turn heightened his own reaction even more, but it was total bliss just losing himself in her.
“I’ve missed you so much,” Ginny murmured into his chest. “Never leave me for that long again.”
“I won’t,” he promised quietly, forgetting all about his resolve to keep her safe. It just felt so good to have her back in his arms, to feel her love for him wash over him like a warm blanket. Forgetting they had an audience, he pulled her closer and kissed her properly, only pulling back when he heard several discrete coughs and sniggers, then the beginnings of one of Uncle Vernon’s tirades.
“Stop that this instant! I won’t have you doing that in my house, boy, with trash like her,” he said nastily gesturing wildly towards Ginny. “I know that girl is a witch and I won’t have her kind in my house, corrupting my family! It’s bad enough that Petunia had to have a witch for a sister and we got landed with you, but I will not welcome one into my home under any circumstances.”
Before Harry could reach for his wand Mrs. Weasley had already drawn hers and cursed Uncle Vernon. He continued talking but suddenly no sound was coming out of his mouth. He grabbed his throat and for a moment Harry thought he might be choking until he stopped moving his mouth and simply started breathing angrily, his nostrils flaring but fear evident in his eyes. She shook her wand at him as she gave him a scolding unlike Harry had ever heard her give anyone, even the twins.
“That will be enough of that, Vernon Dursley,” she said angrily. “You may be Harry’s uncle and his only family, but I’ve been saving this lecture up for years and you are going to listen!” She conjured a chair from thin air and blasted him into it, making him stick no matter how hard he tried to get loose. “I have stood by in silence and allowed you to abuse that dear boy every summer he comes here, but not anymore!”
Her eyes caught sight of Aunt Petunia as she tried to quietly escape the room.
“Oh, no you don’t!” Molly Weasley cried pointing her wand at Harry’s aunt and freezing her feet in place. She quickly conjured another chair beside Vernon’s and blasted her into it as well. “You have this coming too, Petunia Dursley,” Mrs. Weasley told her pointedly.
“Now Molly,” Remus tried, but she interrupted him.
“I will not allow this to go on any longer, Remus,” Mrs. Weasley insisted. She turned back to the Dursleys who cringed away from her as far as they could get. “These are clearly the worst Muggles I have ever laid eyes on and Harry shouldn’t have to put up with them a minute longer. I remember the first time I set eyes on him at the train station. He looked so lost and alone, yet he was so polite when he asked how to get to Platform 9 ¾… I wondered what kind of parents would allow their eleven-year-old to go off to school without a proper send-off.
“Then Ron wrote to me later and told me how he had never even had a proper Christmas present in his life and I knew that he needed me.” She turned to Petunia coldly. “He needed a mother, that’s what he needed! All these years you’ve had him under your roof and you never once saw what a treasure you had in your possession. That young man,” she said, gesturing towards Harry, “is one of the most caring, courageous human beings I have ever known, no thanks to the two of you! You should be ashamed of yourselves.”
“I could not have said it better myself, Molly,” Professor Dumbledore’s voice rang out from behind. Everyone turned in surprise.
“Albus!” Molly said, surprised, looking slightly ashamed. “I didn’t know you were here.”
“It’s quite all right Molly,” Dumbledore said amiably, as if they were discussing the weather. “I just arrived in time to witness that very admirable display on behalf of Mr. Potter. I’m sure he is as impressed as I am that you care so deeply.”
Harry’s face reddened and he gripped Ginny’s hand harder. He did feel pleased that Mrs. Weasley thought so much of him but he wished it didn’t have to be so public.
“I, too, have had my reservations about my choice of placement for Harry all these years, but once the decision had been made I could not undo it.” He turned his wise eyes behind the half moon spectacles to the Dursleys who looked terrified. “I had hoped that you would grow to love him and treat him as your own,” he paused and looked towards Dudley, “if not better… but you did not.”
He turned to look at Harry directly and smiled. “Yet Harry has grown to be a fine young man with outstanding moral fibre and fortitude. He has many friends who care for him a great deal.”
Harry was shocked to hear murmurs of agreement resound throughout the room and his heart swelled with emotion.
“H-he doesn’t,” a stuttering voice said from the corner. Everyone turned to Dudley who had finally found his voice.
“Dudley, no,” Claire whispered.
But Dudley seemed to draw himself up taller than before. Harry had a sickening feeling he knew what he was about to say.
“H-he tried to hurt Claire,” Dudley whimpered weakly.
“He’s right,” Harry admitted, his eyes on the floor. He couldn’t deny what he as done and it was time to come clean to Ginny at least, even if she ended up hating him for it. “I did.”
“No, Harry, that wasn’t your fault,” Ginny said gently, drawing his face up to hers with a soft hand. “That was Tom. I felt him inside you.”
He shook his head. “I wasn’t strong enough to fight him, Ginny.”
“I thought we’d covered that Quetzal,” Stephen said from across the room, moving in closer. Stephen addressed the entire room, Dumbledore in particular, his blue eyes cold as ice. “He was controlling Harry by using mind enhancing potions.”
Hermione gasped and Harry heard her mutter that she should have known, and how it all fit now.
Dumbledore turned to Stephen, a doubtful look on his face. “Yes, Mr. Lupin reported that was a possibility, but I am certain Severus checked for the presence of mind enhancing potions and found nothing.”
“That’s what you get for trusting a Death Eater,” Stephen said coldly.
“Stephen’s right,” Harry said, defending his friend. “After he gave me the antidote I was fine, although it took awhile for me to be able to block him out of my mind totally.”
“Don’t sugar-coat it, Quetzal,” Stephen said reproachfully. “You almost died. If I hadn’t figured it out when I did, and if Chuen hadn’t been such a good healer, you’d be dead.”
“No,” Ginny said quietly. “I’d be dead.”
Mrs. Weasley gasped and everyone else looked at Ginny in shock. “What do you mean by that, Ginny?” her mother asked.
Ginny looked at her mum steadily without wavering. “I made a Life Bond with Harry, Mum. If he dies, I will take his place.”
“You did what!” Mrs. Weasley shrieked, making Harry jump and Ginny flinch. But she quickly recovered and Harry felt her determination and resolve.
She jutted out her chin defiantly. “I owe him for saving me from Tom in the Chamber of Secrets, and we are connected. I’ve been feeling his emotions all summer. You can’t change it, Mum. It’s done.”
“Is this what you’ve been hiding all summer young lady?” Molly said, glaring. “I had wondered, but I thought you were just going through some sort of teenage phase. Why didn’t you tell someone?”
“Dad and Bill know,” Ginny said, biting her lip.
Her mother looked shocked and then whipped around to Bill who seemed like he wanted to find a hole to crawl into and hide from his mother’s wrath.
“Miss Weasley,” Dumbledore said before Molly could pounce on Bill, “did I hear you correctly when you said earlier that you’ve been feeling Harry’s emotions?”
Ginny nodded.
“And I can feel hers, too,” Harry said quietly. “We’re connected somehow and we’ve been sharing dreams all summer. I was with her in Diagon Alley when the Death Eaters attacked and she was kidnapped. I don’t know what happened after that man, Tom, cursed us but she was able to escape because of our connection.” He left out the part where he had projected himself into Grimmauld Place through their connection. That was just between him and Ginny and he could tell she felt the same way.
“What do you mean by ‘cursed us,’ Mr. Potter?” Dumbledore asked.
Harry took a moment to formulate his thoughts before he spoke. “When Ginny was hit by the Cruciatus Curse, I felt it too. It made me so angry I lost control. I felt the power inside me explode and take over.”
“Most unusual,” Dumbledore said amid the gasps of most everyone present.
“It seems,” Dumbledore said, drawing the attention back to the matter at hand, “the incident at the Leaky Cauldron happened as a result of your connection.”
“What incident?” Stephen asked.
Harry heard Stephen’s intake of breath as Dumbledore told him what happened and when. He whipped around sharply to Harry, who jumped. “Why didn’t you tell me?” he asked. “That’s exactly what happened to you, and frankly it scared the shite out of me.”
“I did tell you most of it,” Harry said defensively. “I just didn’t know at the time how much I could trust you. What was I supposed to say, Stephen? I didn’t even know myself what happened in that room. I still don’t. ” He looked to Ginny who shrugged.
“When did these occurrences begin?” Dumbledore asked.
“The night she stayed here this summer, when Dudley threw the party,” Harry said.
Harry heard Vernon’s muffled outburst and Petunia’s surprised gasp but everyone ignore them. Dudley whimpered again slightly.
“It started after the dream-walking and got stronger from there,” Ginny continued. “That’s how I knew Harry was in trouble the day he was with Claire. Whenever Tom took control I couldn’t feel Harry as strongly and that day I couldn’t feel him at all for a bit. It scared me. When I finally did get a sense of him he was so emotional and upset that it was overwhelming. That’s when I went to Bill and warned him that Harry was in trouble. The whole time he was unconscious I felt like I was close to death, like a piece of me was missing. I felt him slipping away but he always came back.” She squeezed Harry’s hand and closed her eyes. “It was the worst two weeks of my life.”
“That’s why you always seemed to know what Harry was feeling,” Hermione exclaimed as if she had just figured out a puzzle and all the pieces were just now fitting into place. “You said that he had told you those things, but I knew that was impossible.”
“Harry did tell me those things, Hermione,” Ginny said indignantly. “I never said he verbalized them to me in person.”
“Professor Dumbledore,” Harry asked tentatively, “is there any way we can undo this bond between us?”
Ginny’s head whipped around. “You want to sever our connection? Why?” Harry could feel her pain and it hurt him to know that he was the cause, but it was a question he had to ask.
“Knowing that I’m putting you in danger is killing me, Ginny,” he told her. “It makes me second guess every move I make.”
“Good!” She said, crossing her arms. “Then maybe you’ll be more careful with your life instead of taking unnecessary risks.”
“Harry,” Dumbledore said. “I’m sorry, but I have to agree with Miss Weasley. I think it would be dangerous at this point to separate you. What we are dealing with seems to be much more complicated than the usual Life Bond. Frankly, I am in uncharted territory here. The phenomenon we have witnessed is a type of joining that has never been documented. It’s possible we are dealing with something entirely different.”
“What do you mean?” Harry asked warily.
“In the typical Life Bond the person whose life has been spared is so grateful that they pledge their own life to their saviour. Sometimes,” he smiled at Ginny apologetically, “as it is popularly recounted in numerous romance novels, the person may become sensitive to the other person’s emotions in times of distress. And in these fictional scenarios it is often the case where the hero will come to reciprocate the feelings, establishing a two way bond or connection.” Ginny blushed and Harry could feel her embarrassment. He sent her his own feelings of reassurance and immediately her embarrassment lessened.
“Sadly,” Dumbledore continued, “this rarely happens in real life. What I think is more likely the case is that you have established a Soul Bond, something much different and more exceptional.”
“What is a Soul Bond, exactly?” Harry asked, confused.
“A Soul Bond,” Dumbledore explained, “is a joining of two souls, once separated. It is a joining of magic, where the two truly become one. I think your bond, Miss Weasley, kept Harry from dying earlier in the summer because you shared your magic with him. A true Life Bond doesn’t work that way. You would have simply taken his place, and that would have been the end of it. If Stephen is right, he should have died… or you, Miss Weasley, would have died in his place.” Harry heard Mrs. Weasley’s strangled cry but otherwise the room was silent.
“Blimey, Harry,” Ron said aloud. “I gave my permission for you to date my sister, not bond with her soul.”
Among twitters and coughs trying to hide their laughter Harry heard Hermione smack Ron’s arm and hiss, “Honestly, Ron! This is serious!” But even Harry had to smile.
“You never do anything the easy way, do you Quetzal?” Stephen spoke up. “I knew there was someone, but this… this is beyond anything I had imagined.”
Harry sighed and gripped Ginny’s hand tighter. “So if I can’t undo the bond how, exactly, am I to keep her safe?” he asked Dumbledore.
“Harry,” Dumbledore said, staring at him in his enigmatic way over his half-moon glasses, “I know you are old enough to understand that no one has any guarantees. Under the best of circumstances things can happen to people that we can never foresee. But, with Voldemort back, our lives are in even greater jeopardy, so long as we choose to defy him. Miss Weasley has already made that choice at the age of eleven, I believe.”
“So that’s it then?” he said angrily. “I’m just supposed to take my chances that Voldemort doesn’t find some way to get to her?”
He felt Ginny stiffen. “I’m not a china doll. I can take care of myself.”
“I understand your concerns, Harry,” Dumbledore said, “and I agree with you. I think that in this case it would be wise to take some precautions.”
“What kind of precautions?” Harry asked over Ginny’s cries of protest.
“I think your relationship with Miss Weasley should remain a secret for as long as possible. I do not believe that Voldemort is aware of your connection yet-” he began, but Harry interrupted.
“He does. He tried to have Ginny kidnapped at Diagon Alley, remember?”
“My sources tell me that they were on the lookout for someone who could give them information,” Dumbledore explained. “It is a well-known fact that you are very close to the Weasleys and I think he was hoping to capture her that day for the purpose of information only. He is aware that something happened that night, the night you shared your dream, and that someone else was sharing the connection between you and him, but he doesn’t know who that person is at this point.”
Harry breathed a sigh of relief. “I would have thought Pettigrew would have told him.”
“I do not believe that Peter Pettigrew was aware that you had formed an attachment to Miss Weasley that night. He does know about the Muggle, Miss Smith, however. The day Voldemort tried to take over was a test to see if she was the one.”
Harry noticed Claire startle to hear her name spoken by the old wizard, and Dudley put his arm around her protectively.
“We have had Miss Smith under constant surveillance these last few weeks and thus far no action has been taken, leading me to the conclusion that he no longer believes her to be a threat. Given that she is a Muggle, I’m sure that she was not taken as a serious possibility anyway, but we had to be sure,” Dumbledore told her kindly. “I apologize for our intrusion of your privacy.”
“Th-that’s all right,” Claire stuttered bravely.
“We will continue to monitor the situation to make sure no repercussions are forthcoming, but I think that Voldemort has moved on to look at the young witches present that night to determine who it might have been. Unfortunately,” Dumbledore said, turning to Ron and Hermione, “Miss Granger is a prime suspect given that she is so close to Mr. Potter and has been linked to him romantically in the past. But I understand that the other young ladies are being investigated as well. All of them are linked with Harry in one way or another, either through Gryffindor House or because of the Quidditch team.”
“What are you doing to protect them?” Harry asked angrily. This was all his fault and he’d never forgive himself if one of his friends got hurt because of him.
Dumbledore held up an old, withered hand reassuringly. “It is being done, I assure you Mr. Potter. I believe your friends Messrs Fred and George Weasley have volunteered to keep an eye out for Miss Spinnet and Miss Johnson, while Miss Bell is being watched over by Mr. Jordon until she returns to school. As you know, Miss Weasley and Miss Granger have been at Headquarters since the attack on Miss Granger’s home occurred. Her parents have agreed to remain under the Fidelius Charm until the situation is resolved and will stay in hiding, allowing the Order of the Phoenix to take charge of their daughter’s safety. We agreed that this was the best course of action.”
“Will that be enough?” Harry asked worriedly.
Dumbledore shrugged understandingly. “It is the best I can do.”
“Your best isn’t always good enough, Albus,” Hunter said coldly, “as you well know.”
Dumbledore turned his sad eyes to Stephen. “Perhaps you are right, old friend, perhaps you are right. But it is the most I can offer.”
Harry regarded his friend and Headmaster curiously, wondering for the thousandth time what had happened between them to make Stephen so bitter towards Dumbledore. He knew it had something to do with the death of his wife and child, but there had to be more to it than that. He caught sight of Hermione and could see her curious look, too. Ginny seemed taken aback that anyone would speak to Dumbledore in such a disrespectful way, while Ron looked flat out impressed. Everyone else was registering versions of anger or surprise as well.
“What is our next move, Albus?” Remus asked, cutting through the tension in the air. “Do you know what happened at Headquarters?”
“Yes, I do.” He turned to Lupin with a grim expression on his old face, which seemed to look even older under the weight of Stephen’s criticism. “It seems that Narcissa Malfoy has contested Sirius’ will. The property has been put into trust by Gringotts until a decision can be reached regarding the true heir.”
“Can they do that?” Lupin asked. “I thought Sirius’ will was airtight. He had it drawn up by the best lawyers after Harry was born because he was determined that the Malfoys would not get their greedy hands on the Black fortune.”
“I think this is a ploy on the part of the Malfoys to distract us,” Dumbledore said. “Because of Kreacher’s betrayal the opposition is aware that Sirius had aligned himself with the Order of the Phoenix once more after he escaped. They were also aware of the will and his subsequent death. I feel certain the intent of this petition is to draw Harry out into the open where they hope he will be vulnerable.”
“I don’t care about the money,” Harry said dispassionately. “They can have it.” He almost grinned when he heard his aunt and uncle’s gagged protests.
“Would you rather see it go to aid Voldemort and his Death Eaters, then, Harry?” Dumbledore asked disapprovingly.
“Well, no,” Harry answered truthfully. He had never thought of it that way.
“Good,” Dumbledore said with approval. “I will make arrangements for the hearing as soon as possible. The quicker we get this resolved, the better.”
“Sir,” Harry asked quickly. “Whatever happened to Kreacher?”
“He is still residing at Headquarters, under constant watch. Now that you mention it, Harry, there is a simple test that will most likely resolve this inheritance issue, if you’d like to set your mind at ease.”
“What do I have to do?”
Instead of answering, however, Dumbledore called out loudly, “ Kreacher!”
Immediately, there was a ‘pop’ and the old house-elf in his tattered, dirty tea towel appeared in the middle of the room, bowing low.
“Master Dumbledore called Kreacher?” he said in a disgruntled voice.
“Yes, Kreacher, I did.” Turning to Harry, he said, “I’d like you to give him an order.”
Perplexed, Harry shook his head vehemently. “You never said I’d have to take him, too. I won’t do it.”
“Harry,” Dumbledore said patiently. “You realise that Kreacher has been living in the Headquarters for quite some time now and he knows too much to be set free. If you are truly Sirius’ heir then he will be magically bound to follow your orders and our secrets are safe.”
The words sent Kreacher into hysterics. “Kreacher won’t follow the orders of the young Master Half-Blood who caused the Dark Lord such pain! He won’t! He won’t! He won’t!” Kreacher screamed over and over again until Harry finally yelled at him to shut up. Immediately the house-elf’s mouth clamped shut and Kreacher’s protests were cut short, causing everyone in the room to breathe a sigh of relief.
“I think you have your answer,” Tonks said flippantly.
“Yes,” Dumbledore said, smiling. “I think we do. Well done, Harry.”
“What am I to do with him?” Harry asked horrified at the thought that he would have to keep the nasty creature near. The less he saw of him the better.
“Under the circumstances,” Dumbledore answered, “I believe the best thing to do would be to send him to Hogwarts. He can work in the kitchens where the other house-elves, including Dobby, can keep an eye on him and ensure he doesn’t give away any more of our secrets.”
“Alright, then,” Harry said. Turning to the shrivelled little beast, Harry said in his most authoritative voice, “Kreacher, I want you to go to Hogwarts and work in the kitchens until further notice. And don’t tell anyone what you know about me or the Order. Got it?”
“Kreacher will do as he is told,” the old elf said angrily, muttering under his breath the whole time. In a flash and a ‘pop’ he was gone.
“Well,” Dumbledore said. “I think it is safe to say that we are in no danger of our Headquarters being compromised. Will it be all right with you, Harry, if we continue to use Grimmauld Place for our safe house?”
“Of course,” Harry said.
“Excellent,” Dumbledore said. “Now, if you will excuse me, I have some important business to attend to.” Turning to Stephen he said, “Mr. Hunter, might I have a word with you in private before I leave?”
Stephen frowned, but said mildly, “As you wish, Albus.”
Harry watched the two of them exit the room, dreading the inevitable confrontation he was sure was coming from the rest of the group.
To his surprise, it never came. Mrs. Weasley was made to sit down by Bill, who insisted he look at her swelling ankle. It seemed that in her haste to get up the stairs to Ginny she had missed a step and twisted it. Lupin and Tonks huddled together, talking in what seemed to be a consistory manner, and Claire pounced on Dudley with a million questions he probably couldn’t answer. Everyone conveniently forgot about Petunia and Vernon who were still voiceless and stuck to their chairs.
Ron and Hermione ran over to Harry and he let go of Ginny long enough to give Hermione a big hug and slap Ron on the back in a jovial greeting.
Harry spent the next ten minutes bringing his best friends up to date on what had happened to him since he saw them last. Hermione had loads of questions about Stephen, the island, and Harry’s appearance. Most noticeable to his friends was his tan, new glasses and clothes, and the bands he wore around his wrists, but he also showed them the phoenix pendent Dumbledore had given him and gave them a glimpse of his tattoo. He shrugged off their inquiries about the tattoo and bands, telling them that they were just something he had picked up on the island and planned to keep for awhile, but he could tell Ginny didn’t buy it from the vibes he was getting from her through their connection. It would be hard not saying anything, like Stephen wanted. Being back with Ron, Hermione, and Ginny made him feel better than he had in months, years even.
Looking around the room, his eyes slid past his aunt, uncle, Dudley and Claire, coming to rest on his true family — Remus and Tonks, Bill and Mrs. Weasley, and above all Ron, Hermione and Ginny. Harry smiled happily as he listened to his friends banter, Ginny at his side. He was finally back where he belonged; he was home.
[A/N: The idea to use Kreacher as a test for Harry’s inheritance came directly from canon, HBP Chapter 3 “Will and Won’t.” There may be other similarities in this chapter as well, and in the chapters to come. I am trying to incorporate as much of the new canon into the story as I can, but presented in a concise and different way. This story was planned long before HBP made it’s appearance and ultimately I need to stay true to my own universe in order for the story to make sense, but I am a firm believer in using as much from canon as possible. This is the only way, in my opinion, to allow the characters to remain true to how Ms. Rowling intended them to be. Luckily my plot towards the end of the story was not as well defined as the beginning, so that gave me room to make some changes. I hope the end product will be a satisfactory blend of my universe and JKR’s, and that you all find it enjoyable to read. Thanks to Melinda, Arnel, Ryan, and Tyler for your help and feedback on this chapter. I’m looking forward to hearing what you all have to say about it, so please take the time to review and let me know. Thank you for reading.
Chapter 17: Hogwarts, At Last
Disclaimer:The characters and situations of Harry Potter depicted in this story are the legal property of J.K. Rowling, Bloomsbury, and AOL Time Warner, and have been used without permission. No copyright infringement is intended.
No profit is being made off this story. It is for entertainment purposes only.
Chapter Sixteen
“Hogwarts, At Last”
As the Hogwarts Express sped towards school Harry knew he was going to have his hands full this year, and it wouldn’t be Quidditch or his studies that would be the problem. Mastering Occlumency would be a piece of cake, getting an O in potions a snap, compared to this. No, it was something far more difficult that would be occupying his every thought. Staying away from Ginny Weasley was going to be the biggest challenge of his life.
After Dumbledore advised him to keep their relationship a secret while at school, Harry had confronted Ginny who at first had outright refused. In fact, she told him in no uncertain terms that she was not hiding the fact that she loved him and wanted to be with him, Voldemort be damned, and she would not co-operate with any plan that had her cowering in fear.
It took numerous hours of persuasion on the part of Harry, Mrs. Weasley, Bill, and Hermione to get her to agree to pretend that they were no more than casual acquaintances. Ron had flat out refused to interfere in the situation, kicking back his feet and eating his way through a stack of chocolate frogs, stating that he had no desire to be on the receiving end of one of Ginny’s hexes. Truthfully, neither did Harry, but he had promised himself that he would make sure Ginny was safe, no matter what, and he intended to see it through even though it was already killing him slowly.
They had left the Dursleys for the Burrow to spend the night there before catching the train the next day. Luckily the wards at the Weasley home had just been strengthened. Mr. and Mrs. Weasley had planned to return home as soon as the children were safely on their way back to school. Since the alarm had sounded at Grimmauld Place it wasn’t safe for Harry to go back there at the moment. Lupin and Tonks had volunteered to go back and gather Ron, Hermione, and Ginny’s belongings and return with them to the Burrow. In the meantime, Stephen disappeared with Dumbledore and Harry hadn’t even had a chance to say goodbye. He had no idea when they’d see each other again, but he had no doubts he would. Stephen had promised to look after his back through this whole thing, and Harry knew he was good for his word.
They had arrived at the train station in their usual chaotic style, although somewhat more organised than normal thanks to the absence of Fred and George. Overall the trip to the station had been subdued. Dumbledore had arranged for cars to take them, a full escort of Aurors and Order members as accompaniment.
Ginny and Harry had shared a car with Ron and Hermione, but the entire way there the two of them had clung to each other as if it was going to be the last time. Harry held her close as he tried to be a man about the situation and reason with himself that it wasn’t forever. It was hard, however, when they both knew that as soon as they arrived at the station Ginny would have to go one direction and Harry in another. Feeling each other’s emotions hadn’t helped. Harry had tried unsuccessfully to put the block back in place, but so far it wasn’t working. He assumed it was because of their close proximity. The closer he was physically to her, the harder it was to separate his feelings from hers. Sometimes when they held each other close it felt as if they melded into one person.
It started the moment they stepped on the train. Ginny was struggling with her trunk and Harry was trying to make himself busy so he wouldn’t rush over to help her right away when out of nowhere Dean Thomas came to her rescue. Dean swooped in like a hero on a shining white horse and righted Ginny’s trunk for her, offering to stow it in his compartment with his own.
“Thank you, Dean,” Ginny had said with a sweet smile, “that would be lovely.” She immediately linked her arm with his and followed him willingly out of Harry’s sight.
Disgruntled, Harry again found himself in a compartment with Neville and Luna this year, along with Ron and Hermione’s trunks, Pigwidgeon, and Crookshanks. He had remembered to grab Hedwig’s cage from the Dursleys before they had left but he hadn’t seen her since before he left the island.
He did have Macoa with him, but she had not made an appearance outside of her bag as of yet except for a brief introduction to Ron, Hermione, and Ginny the night before. Ron seemed slightly repulsed by the snake, Hermione openly fearful, and Ginny apprehensive at first. That had changed quickly after Macoa slid up her arm and whispered something in her ear Harry couldn’t hear. Whatever Macoa had said to her made Ginny blush and instantly warm to the snake. Harry could feel her tension disappear and now she was emanating the same types of feelings towards Macoa that Harry felt.
The snake and her egg were still adjusting to the change in temperature, though, and so she preferred to stay inside the warm bag Harry had charmed to be the same temperature as the island. When they got to Hogwarts he planned to lessen the temperature gradually so that she could adjust slowly to the cold environment. Macoa had insisted it wasn’t necessary, but seemed grateful all the same. Harry knew that the new climate would be an unpleasant shock to her system; even he was finding it difficult to stay warm since he had gotten home.
As he politely answered Neville and Luna’s questions about his summer, Harry found he couldn’t keep his mind off Ginny and Dean. His insides felt jumpy and he had an unexplainable desire to bolt out the door and rush to find her, but he restrained himself.
“Your bracelets are glowing,” Luna said conversationally. A pair of ridiculous looking glasses she called Spectrespecs were perched haphazardly on her nose. “Is that normal?”
Harry, startled out of his fixation of Ginny, looked down. Using his sensing abilities, he could see bright rings of the magic flowing around his wrists. Only he and Stephen were supposed to know these bands worked similar to a wand.
Before he could answer Neville said doubtfully, “I don’t see anything glowing. They just look like ordinary bracelets to me. They’re cool. Where did you get them, Harry?”
“On holiday,” Harry said. “I went to the seashore this summer and picked them up while I was there. They’re souvenirs. I brought Ron and Hermione back some stuff, too, but I haven’t had time to give it to them yet.” Luckily, he and Stephen had already thought of the answer to that question. He dug in his bag and pulled out some shells he had gathered as he walked the shoreline on the island. “I brought these to you.”
Neville glowed like Harry had given him a gold doubloon, and even Luna seemed pleased and both thanked him graciously making Harry feel guilty for not having brought them proper gifts. He knew that neither of them had many friends.
“Did you go with your family?” Luna asked as she examined the shell with interest. “Not your dead one — the one you live with.”
Coming from anyone but Luna, that question might have offended Harry but she asked it with such genuineness that he couldn’t take it for anything other than what it was — a simple question. Harry almost laughed at the image of his uptight aunt in a bathing suit and his fat uncle and cousin strutting around the beach like two pompous walruses.
“Uh, no,” he answered. “I went with a friend.”
He was saved from answering any more questions by Ron and Hermione entering the train compartment, both breathless.
“I will never get used to those Prefect meetings,” Ron said irritably, practically throwing himself into the seat.
“They’re not that bad, Ron,” Hermione said, sighing as she collapsed on the bench beside him. “Besides, now that Malfoy isn’t a Prefect anymore it shouldn’t be so bad.”
Harry brightened. “Malfoy’s not a Prefect? Who’s taken his place?”
“Blaise Zabini,” Ron said darkly. “And if you ask me, he’s not much better.”
“At least Zabini has some manners,” Hermione said. She seemed to be especially disagreeable towards Ron, making Harry wonder what had happened. “He doesn’t try to take over the meetings or try to make himself the centre of attention.”
“I don’t like him,” Ron insisted angrily.
“That was very obvious, Ronald, when you punched him,” Hermione said, crossing her arms angrily and looking away.
Harry, Neville, and even Luna had perked up at this new information. “You punched Zabini?” Harry asked. “Why?”
Ron shrugged. “After the meeting I heard him talking to the other Slytherin Prefects. He said something I didn’t like.”
“What?” Harry asked, wondering what in the world Zabini could have said to make Ron hit him.
“It’s nothing Harry,” Ron said evasively. “I took care of it.” Ron shifted his eyes away and Harry knew he was avoiding looking at him.
“It was about me, right?” he asked.
“Not really,” Ron said, but he didn’t offer any more information.
Harry’s already raw and jumping nerves got the better of him and he snapped, “Fine, don’t tell me, then.”
“Look Harry,” Ron said, his eyes jerking towards Neville and Luna inconspicuously. “It was… it was about Ginny, alright?”
Harry sat upright. “What about Ginny?”
“It’s nothing,” Hermione said, trying to diffuse the situation. “He just saw Ginny go into a compartment with Dean and Seamus and he made a slightly insulting comment.”
“He made a right foul comment, Hermione,” Ron shouted angrily, “and you know it!”
“What did he say?” Harry practically growled.
“He said,” Ron admitted, still burning with quiet anger, “that Ginny must be taking some lessons from the Mudblood in order to have two boys following her around like love-struck puppies. Then he admired her…” His voice trailed off and his face burned as red as his hair.
“Her what?” Harry asked, his eyes narrowed.
“He admired her bum,” Hermione finished calmly. “That’s all.”
“That’s all?” Harry shouted, his fists clenching dangerously. “That’s all!” He was enraged now and the only thing that would make him feel better was to track Zabini down and beat the daylights out of him. Even Neville looked angry, but slightly confused at Harry’s reaction.
“Calm down, Harry,” Hermione said reasonably. “It was nothing. Ron blew it totally out of proportion. Don’t go making it worse for Ginny.”
Just then Ginny slid open the compartment door, a worried expression on her face. Dean and Seamus were behind her, along with Lavender and Parvati.
“What’s wrong with you two?” she asked in an off-handed, cool voice.
It galled him how she could be so composed when his insides felt like they were doing somersaults. A closer inspection of their connection, however, made him realise something — Ginny was a good actress.
“We’ve just been telling Harry, Neville, and Luna what Zabini said to you,” Hermione explained.
“Oh, that,” Ginny said with a wave of her hand. “Thanks for the help Ron, but I can fight my own battles, you know. Gits like Zabini don’t bother me. We were just passing by on our way to find the trolley and I thought I heard someone shout. I should have known it was you, Harry. Haven’t got that temper under control yet, have you?”
“How many detentions are you goin’ for this year, Harry?” Seamus chimed in with a grin, his Gaelic drawl more pronounced than ever. “Last year you were in trouble more th’n out.”
Looking past Harry, Ginny smiled. “Hello there, Luna… Neville — you’re both looking well.”
Harry noticed Lavender and Parvati huddled together whispering the whole time Ginny and Seamus were talking, their eyes fixed on him and then giggling, but he tried to ignore them until Lavender spoke up.
“Where’d you get the great tan Harry?” she asked him. “You look so… manly.”
“Do you have tan lines under those nice clothes,” Parvati said suggestively, “… or perhaps… not?” This sent the both of them into juvenile fits of giggling again. Harry was too embarrassed to feel Ginny’s anger snap until it was too late.
“Harry’s had a rough summer,” Ginny said coldly to the girls. “He hasn’t exactly been on holiday.”
“But he has,” Luna corrected serenely. “He brought Neville and me back these from the seashore,” she said happily, holding up her shell.
Harry opened his mouth to say something but suddenly he didn’t know what to say. He was caught in a lie and there was no getting out of it.
“I meant,” Ginny stammered under the uncomfortable silence, “that with everything going on in the world, none of us have exactly had a good summer.”
“Ginny’s right,” Dean said seriously. “When I visited Diagon Alley to get my books, just after that Death Eater attack, I noticed quite a few businesses have gone bust. Even Florean Fortescue’s Ice Cream Parlour was all boarded up.”
Harry hadn’t heard this, but the uncomfortable reminder of the Death Eater attack hit too close too home. He exchanged a private look with Ginny and knew she was thinking about that day, too.
“They closed it up after Florean went missing,” Hermione explained. “I read about it in the Daily Prophet.”
“Ollivander’s closed up too,” Neville added. “Gran and I were in there buying me a new wand the day before he disappeared.” He held up the new wand for them to see. “Probably the last one he sold.”
Harry hadn’t heard any of this. He knew it was getting bad, but he had been so isolated all summer that he hadn’t had time to catch up on any news since he’d been back. He needed to get Ron and Hermione alone so he could really find out what was going on and what Voldemort had been up to these past few months. Who else had gone missing?
As if reading his mind, Ginny pulled on Dean’s arm. “I’m hungry. Let’s go find the trolley. Luna, Neville would you like to come with us? I haven’t had the chance to catch up with you yet and I’d love to hear about your summers.”
Neville perked up at the invitation. “Yeah,” he said eagerly.
Jumping up he glanced over at Harry, Ron, and Hermione, all of whom had pensive looks on their faces. Turning to the other person in the compartment, Neville said, “Coming Luna?”
Luna looked surprised at being asked, but said in her vague, eccentric manner, “Oh, yes! The trolley lady had some wonderful fruity bats last year. I hope she still carries them.” She removed her Spectrespecs and set them gently on top of her copy of the Quibbler. She moved out into the corridor with the group of Gryffindors, shutting the door behind her.
For the next few minutes Hermione filled him in on everything that had been happening in the Wizarding World while he had been sequestered, first on Privet Drive and then on Tlilli Tlapalla. He learned that others had he knew had gone missing and that there had been numerous attacks, both in the Wizard and Muggle worlds.
“The Muggles don’t understand what’s going on,” Hermione explained, “but they are beginning to take notice. The attack on my parents’ home was broadcast on the local news. The reports are full of incidents like those.”
“What about Fudge?” Harry asked.
“He’s been replaced by some bloke named Rufus Scrimgeour,” Ron said. “Dad doesn’t care for him but he is an improvement over Fudge. He used to be Head of the Auror Office at the Ministry of Magic.”
“That’s impressive,” Harry stated.
“But the problem is,” Hermione told him, “Scrimgeour has just picked up where Fudge left off. So far he hasn’t been able to do anything to make a difference. Everyone is too scared of V-Voldemort and the Death Eaters, fearing retaliation for anything they might do to help get rid of him. The Order has lost more members than they’ve gained.”
“I’ll have to remember to ask Stephen about him when I see him again,” Harry said out loud, almost to himself. “I bet he used to work for him, or at least knows him.”
“Tell us about this Stephen Hunter, Harry,” Hermione said. “What’s he like?”
Harry had to think for a moment before he answered. What was Stephen like? He knew a lot about his tutor and friend, but there were still so many unanswered questions.
“Stephen knew my father,” he began. “He said my dad saved his life once, and he’s saved mine in return several times this summer, actually. When I first met him he was cold… distant.”
“Bill told me he was a right arse when they met him this summer,” Ron interrupted. “Even Dad agreed. We heard him and Lupin discussing it one night when they didn’t know we were there. Lupin tried to say that Hunter has good reasons for being the way he is, and even Dad said he couldn’t blame him. Don’t know what they were talking about exactly… Mum caught us eavesdropping and we didn’t hear any more.”
“I did some research on him this summer,” Hermione added. “He had a great reputation as a Dark Wizard Catcher. Everyone seemed to think he was set to take over the department. He was very famous in his day. Then his wife and son were killed and he just dropped off the face of the earth. Nobody seemed to know what happened to him, although there were plenty of theories.”
“Like what?” Harry asked curiously.
“Some had him living a reclusive life in America,” Hermione said, “while others claimed he had gone Dark.”
Harry laughed. “He hasn’t turned Dark, if that’s what you’re thinking, and he wasn’t in America either. After his wife and son were killed he travelled, doing all sorts of jobs. He’s very intelligent and loves to read. Hermione, you’ve love his library, if you could ever figure out his filing system. He made a lot of money recovering old artefacts, I think. But for the past five or six years he’s lived on Tlilli Tlapalla.”
“Tlilli what?” Ron asked, and even Hermione confused.
Harry spent the rest of the time explaining about the island, although he left out a lot, including the islanders thinking he was Quetzalcoatl reincarnate, that he was engaged to be married, and the whole second prophecy thing. In fact, he kept a lot of his summer to himself for some reason. He’d tell them more sometime later, but now wasn’t the right time. Mostly he described the people, the buildings, the pyramid with it’s temple on top, and the island itself. Ron was very curious about the ballgame Harry had played in and Hermione was utterly fascinated about the spell Hunter had used to allow Harry to communicate in Nahutl.
“I’ve read about that spell, but it doesn’t usually last very long, does it?” she said. “I’m sure you had to keep renewing it quite a bit.”
Harry shook his head. “Not even once. It lasted the entire time I was on the island and, as far as I know, I can still speak it.”
“That’s impossible, Harry,” Hermione said dismissively.
Just to prove her wrong Harry said a few phrases in the Mixtec language, laughing when Hermione’s jaw dropped. Ron thought it sounded really cool and had Harry translate some rude phrases for him to use on Fred and George.
“I don’t understand how that’s possible,” Hermione said over and over. “That’s amazing!”
“Which reminds me,” Harry said, reaching for his backpack, careful not to disturb Macoa and her egg. “I’ve brought you both back something from the island.”
“It’s not another bloody snake, is it Harry?” Ron asked worriedly.
“No, Ron,” Harry replied patiently. “It’s an ordinary present.” He pulled out a diagram drawing of the Mixtec Ballgame that was so realistic it could have been a photograph. The players moved around the court fluidly, shooting spells at each other and keeping the balls in the air as the crowds cheered. The diagram restarted when one player put the ball in the hoop and an entirely different game was begun.
“Wicked!” Ron exclaimed. “I can’t believe you actually did that, Harry,” he said as he watched one of the drawings light his opponent on fire.
Hermione examined the picture and her keen eyes immediately picked out something Harry hadn’t thought of when he bought it in the village. “The players aren’t using wands,” she said with a frown.
“Of course they are, Hermione,” Ron said, squinting at the picture and examining it more closely. “Blimey, you’re right,” he said, awestruck. Turning to Harry he muttered irritably, “Why is it that she’s always right? Is it just me, or is it a girl thing?”
Ignoring him, Harry was busy mentally kicking himself. He had promised Stephen he wouldn’t tell anyone about the bands, but he had never agreed not to tell Ron and Hermione. It was the one thing they had argued about on the trip home. Making up his mind, he blurted out, “It’s because they don’t use them.”
“How can they not use wands?” Hermione asked disbelievingly.
“This is how,” Harry said. He held his hand over the bag and closed his eyes, willing the bag to levitate and watching as it obeyed. “It’s these that make it work,” he said, showing them the bracelets.
“Do you realize what this means?” Hermione’s eyes were wide as she examined the bracelets more closely, her voice high-pitched — like it usually got when she was excited. “This… this could revolutionize our world, Harry.”
“I doubt that, Hermione,” Harry said, shaking his head. “The ability to make them is a secret held very closely by the priests on the island. Not just anybody knows how to make them. Besides, the location of the island is secret and the only one who knows how to get there is Stephen. The island is hidden for a reason — the people there don’t want to be found.”
“Still…” Hermione said, not giving up.
“Drop it, Hermione,” Harry warned. “I wasn’t supposed to tell you about that in the first place and the two of you can’t say anything to anyone. I’ll tell Ginny, of course, eventually. I can’t keep something like this from her but, as we’re supposed to stay away from each other, I don’t know when it’ll be possible to tell her. As it is, when Stephen finds out I told you, he’s going to be livid.”
Hermione still seemed uncertain, but he decided to distract her with the gift he had brought back for her. Reaching into his bag he pulled out a smooth, intricate, colourful wooden box with Aztec-style carvings on it.
“I brought this home to you, Hermione,” Harry said, handing it to her. “It’s some sort of puzzle box, I think. Dunno for sure… some old lady in the market insisted I take it and I thought you’d like the challenge of figuring it out. You know I’m rubbish at that sort of thing.”
Hermione took it eagerly. “Oh Harry, it’s beautiful! Thank you.” To his delight the puzzle box seemed to occupy her until the others returned, saving him from more questions.
He settled back in his seat, fingering the turquoise necklace he had brought home for Ginny, now buried deep in his pocket. He didn’t know when he’d have the chance to give it to her and that thought both saddened and angered him. Why did things have to be so complicated? He knew it was stupid to dwell on something he didn’t have any control over and certainly couldn’t change, but right now he’d give all his gold in Gringotts just to be sitting here with her, talking about the upcoming school year or challenging her to a game of chess. He and Ginny had never played chess and he wondered if she was as good as Ron or if they would be more evenly matched. Then again, he wasn’t sure he’d even be able to concentrate with her sitting opposite him. He felt certain his mind would be on other things they could be doing.
His mind full of Ginny, Harry closed his tired eyes and soon felt himself drift off to sleep. Far too soon Hermione was shaking him awake, telling him it was time to get changed into robes and exit the Hogwarts Express. Harry sighed with relief; he was finally, truly home.
***
The Great Hall was just as active as ever during the Sorting Feast, probably more so than usual in Harry’s opinion. The source of everyone’s chatter seemed to be centred on two things: Harry, whom everyone kept staring at and whispering about (especially the females in the room), and the absence of the Headmaster.
Dumbledore, to Harry’s and everyone else’s surprise, hadn’t made an appearance as of yet even though the Sorting had already taken place and the meal was half over. Most unusual of all was the empty chair that was situated next to the Headmaster — the one usually occupied by the new Defence Against the Dark Arts teacher — was also empty, as was the chair where Severus Snape usually sat. McGonagall had given the speech before the Sorting and had simply said that Professor Dumbledore sent his apologies and would be along shortly. Harry was relieved to see Hagrid’s massive form sitting between short Professor Flitwick and rotund Professor Sprout; he gave Harry a quick wave when he saw him looking and Harry returned it eagerly. He couldn’t wait to go see Hagrid and catch up on everything he had missed over the summer. All the other faces at the teacher’s table were familiar, leaving only the question of who the new Defence Against the Dark Arts teacher would be this year.
Harry was beginning to grow really anxious by the time the large doors opened, admitting three very different men. As the door banged open all noise in the Great Hall ceased and all eyes turned to the entranceway, watching in open curiosity as the greatest wizard in the world, Albus Dumbledore, walked serenely in the door flanked by two very different but equally disgruntled wizards, Professor Severus Snape and Stephen Hunter. Harry couldn’t believe it when the threesome each took places at the Head Table, Stephen sitting uncomfortably next to Dumbledore.
“What’s he doing here?” Ron whispered to Harry.
“Dunno,” Harry shrugged. “He never mentioned anything about taking the job. He’s a great teacher, mind, and it’d be really cool if he took it, but he hates Dumbledore with a passion. I can’t imagine Stephen taking the position knowing he’d have to answer to Dumbledore.”
“Stranger things have happened,” Hermione commented quietly.
“Yeah,” Harry said uncertainly, staring up at Stephen who was frowning darkly. “Strange.” Harry wondered what had happened beforehand; Snape kept shooting Stephen murderous looks similar to ones he reserved only for Sirius, Remus, and Harry.
“I get the feeling we missed a good row, don’t you?” Harry said under his breath.
Ron and Hermione both nodded silently.
The tables suddenly cleared themselves of the leftover puddings and Dumbledore stood to give his normal beginning of term speech. All eyes were now on the Headmaster standing at the podium looking older than Harry had ever seen him look. He cleared his throat and began.
“Good evening, ladies and gentlemen. Welcome back to another year at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. I apologize for my lateness but an important matter came up at the last moment and it was unavoidable.” Harry, Ron, and Hermione exchanged questioning looks but continued to listen as Dumbledore welcomed the new students and laid out the usual ground rules.
“Now is the time in my speech,” he continued, “when I usually introduce to you our new staff members. Tonight I have the pleasure of introducing only one new professor. I am confident you will all learn a great deal from him this year. He was a very successful Auror during Voldemort’s first reign and knows a great deal about the Dark Arts — especially how to defend against them. Without further ado, I would like to introduce you all to an old friend and college, Professor Stephen Hunter, our new Defence Against the Dark Arts teacher.”
Stephen stood to uproars of applause from most of the Great Hall, acknowledging the students with a curt bow before sitting back down again with a thump and a frown. Obviously something had really ticked him off, Harry thought, and he’d bet anything it had to do with Snape who was scowling just as fiercely. He could hear many of the girls in the audience whispering about Stephen’s good looks and smouldering personality, whatever that meant. Dumbledore finished his speech and dismissed everyone.
As he prepared to leave, Harry glanced over at Ginny halfway down the table talking animatedly with her friends, wondering what she was thinking. She seemed to be in the middle of a story and had the attention of everyone near, including Dean and Seamus, who appeared to be taking in her every word. Harry felt a jab of jealously strike him in the pit of his stomach. He watched in satisfaction as she seemed to falter for a split second and then continue on as if she hadn’t felt a thing, even though Harry knew perfectly well that she had.
“Harry,” Hermione warned, drawing his eye away from Ginny. “You have to stop staring at her. Malfoy is watching you very closely, in case you hadn’t noticed.”
Harry tried not to look but it was impossible not to sneak a glance. Sure enough, the blond Slytherin was watching him very intently as he too got up to leave, surrounded by his usual crowd including Crabbe, Goyle, Theodore Nott, Pansy Parkinson, and Blaise Zabini. He seemed to have a perceptive sneer on his face that Harry found infuriating. There was no way he could know about Ginny, but Harry vowed to be more careful from now on.
As he heard her laugh drift over the length of the table, however, Harry knew that was going to be easier said than done. Roughly he shouldered his way through the crowd, Ron and Hermione at his heels trying to keep up. All he wanted was to get back to Gryffindor Tower, shed his clothes, and tumble into bed where he didn’t have to think about Voldemort, Death Eater attacks, Malfoy, prophecies, Stephen, or how much he missed Ginny — even though they were right there in the same room together. Hopefully tomorrow would prove to be better.
Chapter 18: Lessons Begin
Disclaimer:The characters and situations of Harry Potter depicted in this story are the legal property of J.K. Rowling, Bloomsbury, and AOL Time Warner, and have been used without permission. No copyright infringement is intended.
No profit is being made off this story. It is for entertainment purposes only.
Chapter Seventeen
“Lessons Begin”
Harry didn’t feel much better the next day, although he had slept peacefully thanks to Macoa. The night before he had followed through on his plan to just go to bed and forget about everything, but as he lay there with his curtains drawn, fitfully tossing and turning, Dean and Seamus had come in. Neither made an effort to be quiet as they talked.
“I think this is going to be my year,” Dean said to Seamus happily.
“The two of you looked right cosy tonight,” Seamus answered him. Neither seemed to know or care that he was there and Harry didn’t move a muscle, hoping they’d think he was asleep and keep talking. He had a sickening feeling in the pit of his stomach, like a horrible train wreck or car accident that he couldn’t turn away from no matter how much he wanted to.
“Yeah,” Dean said giddily. “We exchanged a few letters over the summer but I was sure nothing would ever come of it. I always had the impression Ginny liked someone else. Anyway, she seems to be interested now, don’t you think?”
“Aye,” Seamus said. “I’d say she is. Are you worried about what Ron’s going to think?”
“Why should I be?”
“Well, he really hated that Corner bloke she dated last year,” Seamus reasoned.
“Well, I’m not Corner,” Dean said indignantly. “Ron and I’ve been friends for years. I can’t think Ron would have a problem with me dating his sister.”
Harry could practically see Seamus shrug his shoulders through the heavy curtains. “I just always got the impression he was overprotective of her,” the boy said. “Either that or…never mind.” Harry heard him moving away and rummaging through his trunk.
“What?” Dean insisted.
“Well, I just think he’d like to see her with someone else.” There was a pause and Harry could imagine their eyes trailing to his bed.
“You’re mad,” Dean told him dismissively. “I can’t see that working at all.” Harry heard Seamus grunt and then Dean lowered his voice making Harry used his sensing abilities leftover from Hunter’s spell to hear what he had to say. “He’s too… you know, mental for her,” Dean whispered. “You remember those fits he had last year. Besides, with You-Know-Who one the loose again it’s dangerous for her to be with him. Any fool can see that. Anyway, I don’t think he’s interested.”
Harry burned with shame and anger. He couldn’t deny that Dean was right; he was too dangerous to be with Ginny. That was the whole reason they had to stay away from each other, wasn’t it? But it didn’t make it any easier to hear it coming from Dean. He raised his hand carefully and cast a silencing charm around the bed so he didn’t have to listen to any more of it. Turning over roughly, he angrily punched the pillow, causing Macoa to slither out of her bag where he had perched it up near the headboard.
“What isss wrong my Princcce?” she hissed worriedly.
“Nothing,” Harry lied, throwing himself on his back angrily.
Macoa wound her way over to him and slid over to lie coiled on his chest. Harry breathed deeply and tried to calm his emotions before he unintentionally opened a door between himself and Voldemort. It was difficult, however, with the roaring monster of jealousy rolling around in his chest, but Macoa used her magic and the knot lessened a bit.
Macoa raised her head to stare at him through the darkness, her green eyes glittering. “You must focusss on what needsss to be done, my Princcce… You have much to learn and even more to accomplish.”
“I know,” he answered curtly. “I am aware of that.”
“Your mate isss ssstill in your heart and you are in hersss. This ssseperation isss not forever,” his friend said reasonably.
“It feels like it,” Harry complained.
“Concccentrate, Harry… Look into my eyesss and remember….”
Harry did as he was instructed, looking into Macoa’s glowing green eyes. As he stared, he found himself getting sleepier and sleepier until finally he knew no more.
***
When he woke the next morning the only thing he could remember was that he had strange dreams filled with bodiless voices who were teaching him things… things he had the feeling he knew once but had simply forgotten.
He rolled over in bed and opened the curtains, noticing that Dean, Seamus, and Neville were already gone. The only one left was Ron who was snoring lightly in the bed beside him. Macoa had returned to keeping watch over her egg and Harry promised to ask Hedwig to catch her something good to eat the first chance he got.
“Oy, Ron!” he groaned, pulling himself up. “We have to get up. It’s double Defence today, remember?” He threw his pillow at Ron who shot up incoherently.
“Coming Mum!” he said, obviously still asleep. His head hit the pillow again and he too groaned.
Harry laughed. “What time did you get in last night?” he asked.
“After midnight,” Ron’s muffled voice answered.
“What were you doing up so late?”
“Have you ever tried living in the same house all summer with both your mum and girlfriend? It’s bloody impossible to get any alone time together in that kind of hostile environment. We were making up for lost time.”
Ron’s words, though innocent, had unintentionally driven a direct punch to his gut. Not only didn’t he have a Mum, he also wasn’t allowed the simple privileges of spending time with his girlfriend either. He tried unsuccessfully to cover up his feelings but he knew Ron had cottoned on to the fact that he had upset him.
“Blimey, Harry, I’m sorry. That was really stupid of me to say.”
“S’okay,” Harry mumbled with a frown, rummaging around in his trunk for something acceptable to wear. They hadn’t had time to get him new robes and most of his were too short. “Can I borrow some robes?”
“Sure,” Ron said, getting up and finding him a pair. “They’re not in the best condition… I think they belonged to Bill once, actually.”
“I don’t mind,” Harry said truthfully, pulling the old, faded garments on. “I have to get some new ones in Hogsmeade first chance I get. Mine are all too small.”
“What do you think our first Defence lesson will be like?” Ron asked eager to change the subject.
Harry shrugged. “I don’t know. One thing’s for certain, though. It’ll be loads better than last year.”
“No doubt,” Ron agreed.
They continued their idle chatter as they finished getting dressed and hurried to meet Hermione at breakfast. In the Great Hall they hastily shovelled down their breakfast, listening to Hermione read off their week’s schedule for them. All three had decided to take the same classes which included Potions, Herbology, Charms, Transfiguration, and Defence Against the Dark Arts. Hermione had an additional class. Apparently Snape had been forced to lower his standards for Potions so all three were taking it, much to Harry and Ron’s displeasure. Both of them had earned an E and somehow their names had ended up on the roster for Advanced Potions. Luckily, someone had picked up Harry’s books for him this summer, so he wouldn’t be behind when he started the term.
They were almost the last ones to enter the room which was full, but somehow they found three seats together. After six years it was almost as if their classmates expected them to sit together and had saved them a place. Harry was pleased to see how many people from his year had made it into Advanced Defence from all four houses, although Gryffindors dominated the mix. Almost everyone in the room had been in the DA with him last year, but there were also a few Slytherins in the class as well. Harry curled his lip at seeing Draco Malfoy sitting in the back with Blaise Zabini. His hatred of Malfoy hadn’t decreased any and he also had not forgotten Zabini’s comment to Ginny on the train. Obviously Crabbe and Goyle hadn’t made it into the class, but Pansy Parkinson had. She was sitting between the two boys dividing her attention between them.
As they took their seats, Stephen appeared in the doorway and the class immediately became silent. It was only then that Harry noticed the changes in the room. Gone was the teacher’s desk that Umbridge had sat behind all of last year and in its place was a sort of stage or platform with a soft, padded floor. Harry turned to watch Stephen walk the length of the room and stand in front of the class.
“Good morning, sixth years,” he said matter-of-factly. His voice was neither warm nor cold and his eyes didn’t linger on anyone for very long. “I have been brought up to speed by Professor Dumbledore regarding where this class stands in their education and frankly I have to say I am very surprised to see so many of you. With the exception of a few candidates, your instructors were pitifully lacking I’m told. It is only by the fortitude and perseverance of those who sit in this room that any of you passed your OWLs.” He paused as the class murmured their agreement.
“My approach will focus mostly on practical experience and very little on theory,” Stephen continued, ignoring the smiles and nods he was getting from the students. He held out a warning hand. “Please do not misunderstand me. I am a firm believer in learning the theories and the history behind my craft. Knowledge can be dead useful when you need it, but without the muscle to back it up you might as well be an ignorant buffoon sporting a hideous pink bow on the top of your round little head.”
This comment earned him a hearty laugh from everyone except the Slytherins.
“Yes, well, no matter,” Stephen said dismissively. “I think that’s enough pleasantries for today. Let’s get on with it, shall we?”
Stephen raised his wand and conjured a small bundle of twigs. “Today we are going to start with an object lesson,” he said, plucking the sticks out of the air. There couldn’t have been more than five or six slender twigs, all tied together with a single thin piece of twine. “This is one of the strongest forces in the universe,” he said, holding up the bundle in one hand for them to see.
“A bunch of twigs?” Seamus scoffed.
Stephen tossed them to him. “Break them,” he instructed.
Seamus grinned at the thin bundle, obviously thinking it wasn’t going to be a problem. He picked up his wand but Stephen stopped him.
“Tut-tut, Mr. Finnegan,” he said, wagging his index finger. “Without magic, please.”
Seamus put down his wand, still smiling confidently. “No problem,” he said as he picked up the bundle in his hands and tried to snap them in two, but they wouldn’t break.
“Go on, pass them around,” Stephen instructed. “I’d like you all to try.”
For the next ten minutes everyone tried to break the bundle of sticks without success. Malfoy and a few others swore that they weren’t ordinary branches and must be made out of something else, then went on to mutter how stupid this lesson was, but most everyone ignored him. Secretly, though, Harry wondered if he wasn’t right — he had yet to see the point.
“Give up?” Stephen said. “Well, it’s no wonder, really.”
He took the bundle and held it up for the class to see. “See this string here?” he said untying the thin piece of twine. “This is friendship.”
Harry knew his face reflected the confusion he felt, but he continued to listen.
“Friendship,” Stephen said as he began to shred the tiny piece of twine into individual strands, “is made up of loyalty… faith… patience… respect… and countless other things.”
When the twine was shredded and the sticks unbound, Stephen then held up a single twig for them to see.
“These are people. Alone, people are weak…” He snapped the twig easily in one hand.
Picking up his wand, he performed a Repairing Spell and restored the string and the twig to their original conditions. Another flick had the string back in place and the twigs bundled again.
Stephen’s eyes bore into each of them. “…but tied together by friendship, these same individuals are strong.”
His eyes fell on Harry, Ron, and Hermione. “Some of you have already learned the power of friendship.”
“Others,” he said, his eyes drifting to the back of the room where Malfoy sat with Pansy and Blaise, “may take longer to figure out this simple truth.”
He raised his voice a notch and stared Harry straight in the eyes. “The point is, class, we are stronger when we stand together.”
He allowed this to sink in for a moment before continuing, letting each of the students mull over what it was he was trying to say. Harry glanced at his two best friends in the entire world out of the corner of his eye and knew exactly what Hunter was trying to say. Without the strength of his friends he would never have been able to accomplish half the things that he had done over the years. Ron and Hermione had always been right there with him, whether it was searching for the Philosopher’s Stone or fighting a group of Death Eaters at the Department of Mysteries.
“That said,” Stephen continued, “I am obligated to say that friendship, while strong, is only as strong as the weakest individual. I know this sounds contradictory, but if you think about it, it’s not. We have to work to make ourselves the strongest people we can be so that one day we can hold up our friends when they need us most. Our enemies will try to find the weaknesses in our characters and exploit them. It’s happened in millions of cases over the course of history; sometimes our friends can turn on us. At those times we have to be able to stand alone.” His eyes searched out and found every single person in the room. Some, like Harry, Ron, and Hermione returned his gaze steadily while others looked away. Harry knew exactly what Stephen was talking about and to whom; this lecture was meant for him and his friends, warning them not to make the same mistakes Harry’s parents had.
“So, on that note, I would like to give you a little demonstration of some of the things we will be learning this year.” Stephen turned to Harry. “Care to join me up front, Mr. Potter?” He had phrased it like a question but Harry knew it wasn’t; he shifted uncomfortably in his seat.
Stephen shot him an expectant look and motioned towards the platform.
“Er… alright,” Harry said reluctantly. He stood, aware that everyone was watching him. Suddenly he wished that he didn’t have on Ron’s old robes and that he had taken a bit more care in getting ready this morning. He certainly hadn’t expected to be part of Stephen’s lesson plans today and a bit of anger rose up in him that his friend hadn’t bothered to give him forewarning.
“I’m sure you remember how this works,” Stephen said quietly, taking a defensive stance. “I’ve padded the floor for you and everything, Quetzal.”
The moment he said that, Harry’s competitive nature kicked in. If it was a fight Stephen wanted, then it was a fight he would get.
Mimicking Stephen’s stance Harry smiled. “Tired of waking up stiff, are you old man?” he said so only Stephen could hear.
“Wands only, no funny stuff,” Stephen warned, circling Harry like a predator.
“Whatever you say,” Harry replied calmly. He didn’t bother to move from his spot but began pivoting so that Stephen was never out of his line of vision and his back was never exposed. Experience had taught him that it was best to stand in one place when confronted. If he tried to move away he could be caught off guard and Stephen could easily hex him. He waited for his teacher to make the first move.
“Petrificus Totalus!” Hunter bellowed suddenly.
Harry was ready. “Protego!” He watched in satisfaction as the spell bounced off his shield, but he still didn’t move to retaliate.
Hunter fired two curses in rapids succession, both of which missed because Harry used his sensing skills to turn his body in just the right direction to avoid both curses. Still he just watched calmly as Hunter paced in front of him. His strategy at this point was to unnerve his opponent. By not fighting back, Harry knew he could shake Steven up a bit. He had never used this tactic before but it just felt right today.
Stephen tried another attack. “Locomotor Mortis!”
“Protego!” he shouted, almost simultaneously.
Then Stephen did something unexpected. Harry felt the magic coming at him like a bullet, but he didn’t know what Stephen had fired at him because it had been wordless. The curse hurled him backwards and he hit the floor on his shoulder. Luckily it was a soft landing and Harry rolled quickly to the side, ignoring the laughter from the Slytherins. He managed to dodge Stephen’s next curse and return to his defensive stance ready to fight.
“Avis!” Immediately a flock of twittering birds flew out of his wand towards Stephen. “Oppugno!” he said, ordering them to attack.
Stephen was forced to conjure up a shield to protect himself from the pecking birds.
Harry didn’t have time to celebrate long, however. Stephen waved his wand at the birds and cried, “Evanesco!” vanishing the creatures. Without missing a beat, he counter-attacked with several nasty Stinging Hexes and an Impediment Jinx.
Harry was required to take a few of the Stinging Hexes in order to escape the Impediment Jinx; one hit him on the cheek and the other on the left arm. Not giving up despite the pain, he pointed his wand at a nearby bookcase and said, “Mobilicapsa!”
The shelf tumbled over, spilling books all over the floor and tripping Stephen.
“Ablegatio!” Steven countered as he stood up, sending the books flying away from him.
“Everte Statum!”
“Protego!”
Frustrated that Stephen had been able to get his shield charm up in time to deflect the spell, Harry decided to use what he knew about his teacher to his advantage.
“Serpensortia!” A large snake bearing an uncanny resemblance to Macoa came out of his wand, going straight for Stephen.
The older man took two frightened steps backwards but raised his wand and, in a shaky voice, said, “Vipera Evanesca.” The snake vanished.
Stephen’s eyes seemed to be cold rocks of blue steel and Harry knew he had opened up a can of flobberworms better left alone. He cursed and made a dive for it just as Stephen yelled, “Relashio!” sending off a jet of fiery sparks that compelled Harry to run for it. He turned and cast an Extinguishing Spell, mostly because he was afraid the flames might catch his robes on fire. Using this distraction to his advantage, Stephen then began firing various jinxes at him in rapid succession. Harry waved his wand and conjured a concrete wall to hide behind, but a powerful Reductor Curse from Stephen blasted it to bits. Trying anything now, Harry started shouting hexes and curses back, not caring which ones hit their mark. His goal was to just get out of there before he was turned into an embarrassing mess of jinxes, hexes, and curses like Malfoy, Crabbe, and Goyle on the train home in his fourth year. But it didn’t do him much good because all it took was a simple, well-aimed Tickling Charm and the duel was over, ending with Harry rolling around on the floor laughing hysterically.
“Finite… Incantatem!” Hunter said, breathing heavily. He had a trickle of blood oozing down the side of his face from a gash on his temple.
“All right there, old man?” he asked, taking his teacher’s weary, outstretched hand and rising to his feet.
“It’d take more than that to finish me off, Quetzal,” Stephen answered good-naturedly, still gasping for air. “But I’m not getting any younger — you almost had me there for a minute this time.”
“You’re bleeding, Stephen,” Harry said, forgetting they had an audience because the room had gone dead silent. He pointed his wand at the small wound and said, “Episkey,” watching as it closed up.
“Thank you, Harry,” Stephen answered, pulling out a handkerchief and mopping his brow. “That trick you pulled with the snake was ruthless. Remind me to return the favour next time we duel.”
Harry grinned and said cheekily, “It had you shaking. Next time I’ll invite Macoa and maybe I’ll win.”
Stephen shot him a very disgruntled look.
Clapping and whistling from the students finally got their attention. Harry made his way back to his seat quietly, avoiding everyone’s eyes except for Ron and Hermione’s. He felt proud to see their looks of approval and it almost made up for the snide comments drifting down from the Slytherins.
Turning to the class, Stephen said, “That was just an example of what we will learn this year. I picked Mr. Potter because he and I have had the opportunity to work together this summer and I know him to be an excellent dueller. But all of you will learn the basic techniques of defensive and offensive spells in order to better protect yourselves, should you ever need to.” The rest of the time was taken up with a class analysis and discussion of the duel they had just witnessed, with most of the class taking careful notes.
***
By lunchtime the entire school was talking about Harry and Professor Hunter’s duel. It was also common knowledge that Hunter had tutored Harry over the summer, a fact that was getting more and more embellished as the story got told. By the time Harry made it to the Great Hall for lunch he had been stopped seven times to answer questions on the matter and finally got to the point that he ignored people calling his name. If he stopped to answer them all he’d miss lunch entirely.
“You can’t blame them, you know,” Hermione said as she filled her plate. “People are looking for any excuse to be hopeful that things are going to be all right. You’ve put yourself on the front lines of this war, Harry, and now everyone is looking to you to save them.”
“But I didn’t do it on purpose, Hermione,” Harry insisted as he, too, filled his plate.
“I know that,” Hermione said quickly. “But that display you put on this morning is only going to reinforce the idea that you are, potentially, their saviour. I’d be surprised if the Ministry doesn’t try to use this to their advantage.”
“What’d ya ‘ean?” Ron asked, his mouth full of chicken.
“Well,” Hermione said thoughtfully, “they want to maintain the illusion that they’re in control. If they had the Boy-Who-Lived endorsing them…”
“I’m not going to do that!” Harry exclaimed loudly, lowering his voice when people turned to stare. “After what they did last year, how could they expect me to support them? They allowed Voldemort to get this far in the first place. If Fudge had listened to us, he might have been stopped ages ago.”
Hermione stared at Harry reproachfully. “You know that’s not true, Harry,” she said quietly. “After what you told us this summer, I can only see this coming out one way. But I agree with you to a point… his plans could have been hindered. Much of this death and destruction going on now — the terrorism in both the Wizard and Muggle worlds — might have been prevented if action by our government had been taken sooner. He certainly might not have the advantages that he has now after a year of preparation. But you do realise what people are calling you, don’t you Harry?”
“What?” Harry asked, perplexed.
“Their calling you ‘The Chosen One’,” she whispered.
“You’re joking,” Harry said in disbelief. “Who’s saying that?”
“Everyone,” Ron answered seriously. “The newspaper has been running articles all summer, mate. They think you’re the answer to their problems.”
“Bet Voldemort loves that,” Harry said bitterly. “He’ll be more determined than ever to find a way to get rid of me.”
They ate their lunch in silence, each mulling over the conversation they had just finished. Harry’s only distraction came when Ginny entered the Great Hall, surrounded by her friends. The moment he caught sight of her his stomach did a fancy little flip and she looked up in surprise. For a second their eyes met; he felt her reaction upon seeing him, making his face redden slightly. He hadn’t seen her since the night before and, although he had been getting small snatches of her emotions all morning, the Occlumency shield was working fairly well again. He wondered if she had been feeling his emotions all this time, too.
As she neared the table Harry had the sudden urge to ask her to join them, but he knew without being told that it was a bad idea. So he carefully schooled his expression to remain neutral, even though his insides were going crazy. Some of it was him, he knew, but he was certain some of the butterflies in his stomach belonged to her. He saw Ginny and her friends sit down far away from him opposite Dean and Seamus. The conversation he had overheard between the two boys was still fresh in his mind and suddenly he lost his appetite.
“I’m going to go get some air,” he told Ron and Hermione, pushing his plate away.
Ron looked at him with sympathy. “Want some company?”
“No, you two finish your lunch. I’ll wait for you in front of McGonagall’s classroom,” he told them, slinging his book satchel over his shoulder.
His friends smiled at him and he turned to leave, forcing himself not to look at Ginny as he passed. He could feel her turmoil and it made it that much harder.
He walked slowly towards the transfiguration classroom, trying to calm his roiling stomach. If this was what meals were going to be like from now on, he might be skipping more than a few this year.
He was so lost in thought, he almost ran into Professor McGonagall. “Sorry, Professor,” he apologized.
“No need, Potter,” she said briskly. “I was just on my way to find you.”
“To find me?” he said, surprised. “Why?”
“As you know, the Quidditch captaincy has been left vacant by Angelina Johnson,” McGonagall said. “I have decided to offer it to you, if you’ll have it.”
“Me?” he said, genuinely shocked.
“Yes, Mr. Potter, you,” McGonagall told him, exasperated. “Next to Katie Bell, you are the senior member of the team but I’ve decided to give it to you.”
“Wow,” he said. “Thanks!”
“So you accept, then?” she asked.
“Yes,” Harry answered eagerly. “I do.”
“Good.” She handed him a slip of paper. “These are the times I have booked the Quidditch pitch to hold try-outs. Please put a notice up on the announcement board in the Gryffindor Common Room. You’ll need two Beaters and two Chasers this year. I’m counting on you to pick the best people for the job. I have grown used to seeing the Cup in my office and I would hate to lose it.”
“Yes Ma’am,” Harry said. He’d hate to lose it, too.
“Very well, then,” McGonagall said decisively. “I will see you in class this afternoon.” She turned and bustled down the hallway, leaving a flabbergasted Harry in her wake.
Suddenly his day was looking considerably better. He was Quidditch Captain — he was back on the team, he had almost beaten Stephen in a duel, and he had just found his excuse to spend more time with Ginny as long as she could make the team again this year. Life was looking good for a change.
***
Harry was still in a good mood at the end of the day as he, Ron, and Hermione spread out their homework on the table in the Gryffindor common room. It was even better when Ginny came into the portrait hole, lugging a big bag of books and dropped them in a chair at their table.
“Why didn’t anyone ever tell me how much work OWL year is?” she exclaimed tiredly, sinking into empty chair beside Harry. “I think every teacher in this school has made it their business to see how much homework they can pile on us before they kill us either from lack of sleep, or the shear weight of the damned books.”
“It is a crucial stage of your life, you know, Ginny,” Hermione pointed out. “How well you do on those exams can determine your job… your career, your future!”
Ginny looked even more cross and Harry felt her irritation rolling off her in waves. “Not all of us can get eleven OWLs, Hermione,” she said grouchily. “And there are more important things going on in the world than stupid exams!”
“Ginevra Weasley!” Hermione said sharply. “That is a terrible attitude to take! If you set your standards higher, you might just surprise yourself.”
“I’m sorry,” Ginny said, and Harry could tell she really was, “but I’ve had a horrible day.” She glanced at Harry and he knew exactly what she was talking about.
“I have something that should cheer you up,” Harry said, grinning.
“Is this about your duel with Professor Hunter?” she asked. “That’s all I’ve been hearing about all day.”
Harry shook his head. “No, this is better. McGonagall made me Quidditch Captain. Tryouts are this Saturday.”
“Oh, Harry!” she exclaimed. “That’s wonderful! I knew something good happened, but I had no idea…” She smiled coyly. “So, what do I have to do, Captain, to get a spot on the team?” She fluttered her eyelashes playfully, making a horrible attempt to flirt.
“Just fly the best, and your in,” Harry said, crossing his arms stubbornly. He let down his Occlumency shield so she could feel how turned on she was making him.
Ginny swiped him on the arm. “Don’t do that, Harry!”
“What?” Harry said innocently.
“You know what,” she insisted.
“Listen,” Ron said from across the table. “As much as I’m enjoying this little display of… whatever, we do need to get busy on our homework, you know.”
Hermione looked like she wanted to faint with pleasure. “Why Ronald, I could just… kiss you!”
“Yeah,” Ron said wryly. “That’s exactly why I want to get finished with this — I know you’ll have none of that until it’s done.”
Hermione looked exasperated but pleased nonetheless as she leaned over and gave him a peck on the cheek, making Ron blush crimson. Turning to Ginny she said, “I was thinking that we could help you study for your OWLs this year, since we’ve been through them already. We could tutor you — that is if Ron and Harry don’t mind.” She raised her eyebrows to convey her meaning. “Of course, you’d have to resign yourself to spending your evenings with us boring sixth years…”
Harry thought he felt Ginny’s surge of hope — it was hard to tell, though, because he was feeling so excited himself.
“If you’re sure it’s no trouble…” Ginny said, grinning. “I’d love to have your input and advice at this crucial time in my life.” She glanced at Harry wickedly and he suddenly felt very hot all over. “Are you sure you don’t mind, Harry?”
“Not at all,” he managed to squeak.
“It’s settled then,” Hermione stated.
“Hey!” Ron exclaimed. “I didn’t say yes yet.”
Three pairs of eyes turned on him coldly, each frown different but deadly.
“I was just joking!” he said defensively. “Blimey, don’t hex me.”
They all laughed together and for the rest of the evening they whiled away the hours doing normal, mundane homework. Harry couldn’t ever remember spending a more enjoyable evening — at least not in a long, long time.
Chapter 19: Confrontations
Author's Notes: Sorry to make you wait for this new chapter. I have been trying to get PS caught up with everyone else, but finally decided I couldn't make you suffer any more. Hope you enjoy it.
Disclaimer:
The characters and situations of Harry Potter depicted in this story are the legal property of J.K. Rowling, Bloomsbury, and AOL Time Warner, and have been used without permission. No copyright infringement is intended.
No profit is being made off this story. It is for entertainment purposes only.
Chapter Eighteen
“Confrontations”
Saturday rolled around soon enough and it was time for tryouts. The only other thing to happen to mar the week was a very unpleasant first Potions class which included, to Harry’s displeasure, Blaise Zabini, Pansy Parkinson, and Draco Malfoy once again. It seemed those three were destined to follow him around all week — they were in virtually every class with him.
The morning of tryouts was crisp and clear but not too cold, perfect Quidditch weather. He was excited by the number of prospective candidates for the team but he suspected more than a few of them had signed up for other reasons. The vast majority seemed to be young girls fourth year and below. Still, he was hopeful that there might be a few good prospects in the lot.
Harry met Ron and Ginny in the common room and the three of them were just starting out the door when Hermione came rushing up from behind.
“You weren’t going to leave me, were you?” she asked disapprovingly, slightly out of breath.
“Since when are you interested in Quidditch?” Ron asked her.
Hermione shrugged. “I always support the Gryffindor team. Besides, this is Harry’s first official duty as Captain and I don’t want to miss it. Just because I don’t play doesn’t mean I don’t care.”
Ron looked pleased, especially after she linked arms with him, leaving Harry to walk with Ginny alone. It was the first time he’d had a chance to talk to her without anyone else around.
She smiled at him and he was certain she was thinking the same thing. “So, Captain,” she said cheekily. “Are you ready to be impressed beyond belief?”
“Hmmm,” Harry said, pretending to think. He wanted to badly to take hold of her hand that he found himself gripping his broom harder than necessary. “The proof’s in the flying, Weasley. You may have done alright as a Seeker last year, but that doesn’t mean you can score.”
Ginny’s eyes flashed, latching onto Harry’s challenge. “You think I can’t do it?” she said playfully.
Harry shrugged nonchalantly. He knew she could feel his faith in her and was enjoying this game as much as he was. “You’ll have to be fast. I hear you may have competition.”
“Like who?” she asked, her eyes narrowing. He could feel her worry creeping in, threatening to shatter her confidence and he certainly didn’t want to do that.
“Demelza Robins, for one, but I wouldn’t worry… there are two positions open this year, remember.” They had reached a deserted corridor in the hallway; Ron and Hermione were now well ahead of them and totally engrossed in each other. Harry checked to make sure they were alone before pulling Ginny behind a large statue of Ethelred the Ever-Ready; the statue happened to be next to a darkened alcove where they could be easily obscured from the view of unwanted, prying eyes.
“Ginny,” he said seriously. “You understand that I can’t play favourites, don’t you? It’ll look suspicious if I give you a position on the team unless you clearly deserve it.” She started to speak, but he stopped her. “I know you can do this. I’ve seen you fly and I have faith in you.”
He pulled the necklace he’d been carrying with him for a week out of his pocket. “I brought this back for you from the island,” he said, handing it to her.
Her mouth fell open when she saw it. “Harry, it’s beautiful!” She fingered the turquoise stone set in silver and the turquoise beads that lined the silver chain. “I can’t accept this… it’s too much.”
“Nonsense,” Harry said, taking it from her and trying to open the clasp, which proved to be more difficult than he had imagined. He finally gave up and used magic to help him guide it around her neck without her noticing. “I can’t exactly return it, can I? Besides, the Mixtecs believe that when a turquoise is given to another in love, it will bring good luck to the wearer. I think we can use all the luck we can get, don’t you?”
Her eyes were wide as she brought her hand up to touch the blue stone nestled at her throat. The chain was long enough that it could easily be hidden under her robes so that no one but she and Harry would ever know it was there. “Thank you, Harry. I love it.”
She reached up and gave him a quick peck on the lips but he was ready for her and caught her so she couldn’t back away, deepening the kiss till they were both panting with need and want. Harry had realised how much he had missed that. It was one thing to dream about kissing Ginny, but quite another to actually do it. All this time they had instinctively stayed in the presence of others knowing that once they touched each other again, it would be exponentially harder to keep their distance. They were right. Harry forgot about tryouts, about keeping his distance, about needing to protect Ginny. None of it mattered when she was in his arms like this — nothing except the need to touch her and feel her touch him.
For a blissful moment he was lost to the sensations. If Peeves hadn’t taken that precise moment to drop a stink bomb in the corridor, they might have stayed there all day.
Groaning, Harry pulled away from her and waved his hand angrily, sending the stink in the opposite direction towards Peeves, forcing the cackling little Poltergeist to flee from his own trap and cursing obscenities as he went.
“Harry!” Ginny said in surprise. “You didn’t use your wand!”
“I’ll tell you later,” he said, straightening his now wrinkled clothes. He waved his hand over her robes and immediately they were wrinkle-free, too. “Right now I’m late for my own tryouts. We’d better split up or it could look suspicious. You go on ahead and I’ll meet you there.”
“You should go first,” Ginny insisted. “You’re the captain. You shouldn’t be late.”
“Alright,” Harry agreed. “But don’t be far behind. I don’t like you walking alone, even inside the castle. Anything could happen.”
“You worry too much,” Ginny told him with a frown.
“With good reason.” He gave her one last kiss on the cheek. “Good luck,” he whispered, “I’ll see you in the air.”
With great effort he pulled away and left her in the alcove, racing towards the Quidditch pitch at top speed. He’d do Beaters first, he decided — one of the perks of being Captain was that he ran the tryouts and decided the order they would go in. This job was paying off dividends, already. It was turning out to be a glorious day!
***
As it turned out, Ginny had no problem making the team. She out-flew everyone else, and no one but Demelza Robins even came close to her in goal scoring. She managed to knock several good ones in past Ron, who was looking better than ever. Harry also managed to find several good beaters and a few back-up Reserve players, including Dean Thomas, who seemed to only be there so he could stare at Ginny. However, he flew well enough that Harry had to agree to make him a Reserve Chaser, just in case someone got injured.
All in all, things were looking up. He was actually feeling very upbeat about his day as he and Ron cleaned up after the tryouts, discussing strategies. As they neared the castle, however, he started getting twinges from Ginny that something was wrong.
“Hurry up, Ron,” he said impatiently. “Something’s up with Ginny.”
Ron looked alarmed. “Is she in danger?”
Harry shook his head. “No, I don’t think so. But something is definitely wrong.”
The two of them hurried up the stairs and down the corridor to the seventh floor, only to stop dead in their tracks.
Ginny and Dean were standing just outside the portrait hole; they arrived just as Dean leaned in and kissed Ginny’s cheek tenderly. Harry knew he shouldn’t get angry but at that moment, he had no choice. The monster in his chest was roaring and he fought to keep it down as Ginny abruptly pulled away and looked directly at him, a guilty expression on her face.
“What do you think you’re doing?” Ron yelled angrily.
Dean didn’t seem to find anything wrong with the situation, however. “Hello there, Ron,” he said coolly to Ginny’s shocked brother. “We were just discussing you.” He barely acknowledged Harry, directing most of his attention to Ron.
Unlike Dean, Ginny locked eyes with Harry but jerked them away as if stung by his scathing look. Turning to Ron, she addressed him with a stony mask on her face that Harry knew belied her real emotions. Right now the connection between them was wide open and pulsating. She was having a hard time pretending she didn’t feel his anger, and for some unexplainable reason her guilt suddenly turned to rage.
“What do you mean, ‘what are we doing?’” she repeated in a controlled, clipped voice. “What does it look like we were doing? Dean asked me out and I accepted.” She refused to meet Harry’s eyes but seemed to shrink a bit when she felt his involuntary fury at the idea. He remained silent, though, because he didn’t trust himself to speak.
Ron glanced at Harry but focused on Ginny. “I think that’s a bad idea,” he stated firmly.
Ginny wrinkled her nose. “You can’t tell me what to do, Ron,” she said indignantly.
Harry was surprised to see that she really was annoyed with Ron. Did she want to go out with Dean instead of him? He was now angry, hurt, and confused… all very terrible emotions to have when trying to maintain an Occlumency block. In one swift motion, his shield cracked and he knew if he didn’t get it under control soon he would create a fissure inside his mind that he could not defend against.
The three in the corridor seemed very much unaware of his dilemma, however. Ginny was too angry to notice he was in trouble, and Ron was too focused on Ginny and Dean.
“Lay off her, Ron,” Dean said easily, stepping in front of Ginny slightly to protect her from her brother’s wrath and Harry’s piercing gaze. “It was all very innocent, I assure you.”
“It didn’t look so innocent to me,” Ron retorted, his eyes narrowed. “In fact, it looked like you were just about ready to snog her.”
The image of Ginny kissing Dean and enjoying it was too much for Harry.
“Ahhh!!!!”
He fell to his knees, clutching his head as the shield inside his mind crashed and the connection between him and Voldemort flew wide open. All three stopped arguing and stared. Harry could feel Ginny’s distress, but he couldn’t focus on it as the snake’s hissing started pounding in his head, drowning out everything around him.
He was laughing gleefully… “I knew it wouldn’t be long before your pitiful shield was broken,” the snake said inside his mind. “Your powersss are no match for mine, boy!”
“Go away!” he screamed inside his mind.
“I’ll never be gone, Harry,” the snake laughed merrily. “We are alwaysss going to be connected, until I kill you. But firssst, I have plansss for you, didn’t you know?”
“Plans?” he asked, fighting the panic and pain. “What plans? What are you on about, Tom?”
The snake laughed again, doubling his efforts to gain control of Harry, probably in retribution for Harry calling him by his given name. “Now that would ssspoil the fun, wouldn’t it?” the voice hissed.
“Ahhhh!!!!”
Ginny’s voice drifted into his consciousness. “Harry, fight him!” she screamed, leaning over him. “Tell the tosser to buggar off!”
Her encouragement gave him some strength to fight. “Get… Stephen…” Harry managed to grind out. He was sweating profusely and his face was contorted with the effort of keeping Voldemort at bay. He knew he was in danger of being taken over again, and he refused to let it happen. Not here, not now… Not ever.
“Go find Professor Hunter,” he heard Ron order Dean, as if from a distance. “Now! Hurry!” Dean shot them a terrified look and rushed off, running at top speed.
When he was gone, Ginny leaned in, wrapping her arms around Harry protectively. “I can help you,” she told him.
“No!” Harry said forcefully. “He… might… see you. I… can’t… risk… it.”
Ginny ignored him and leaned her head into his, placing the cool skin of her forehead up against his throbbing scar. “We can do it together.”
Harry couldn’t fight both of them at once. “Okay…” he panted. He didn’t think he had a choice. If he didn’t let Ginny help him, he’d be lost because he couldn’t hold the snake back much longer.
“Let go, Harry,” she told him cradling his exhausted body. “Let me in.”
He did as she instructed and let go of the hold he had on their connection just as she forced her way in, too. It was like having a battle raging in his mind. As she came in, Tom pushed forward. Harry closed his eyes and remembered Macoa showing him the strands of the connections in his mind. He visualized it and was not surprised to see his and Ginny’s light fuse to fight off the green light that belonged to Voldemort. It seemed to take forever, but finally they managed to repel it enough to give Harry some breathing room.
“Imagine the wall, Harry,” Stephen’s voice from far away instructed. “You need to find all the pieces and repair the broken parts. Help him find them, Ginny.”
Suddenly there was a wall in front of the green light, weak and crumbling, but mostly intact.
“Do you see the broken pieces?” Ginny asked him.
“Yes,” Harry answered. “But I’m too tired to fix it.” The image of her and Dean together was creeping into his thoughts again.
“Harry,” Ginny said harshly. “Listen to me. I love you, only you. What you saw out there with Dean was not real. You are the only one I want and they only man I will ever want.”
“Really?” Confidence began to surge though his body once again and he suddenly felt much stronger. “But I saw-”
“You saw me trying to cover for us…”
Harry picked up a piece of the broken wall and thrust it back into place.
“You saw me angry at Ron for interfering...”
Another piece back in place.
“You saw my guilt and anger because I was stupid enough to lead Dean on and let you walk up on us like that, totally unprepared.”
A huge chunk back in place.
“I’m so sorry, Harry.”
He could tell she was speaking the truth and with one last effort, the wall was sealed and his mind was quiet once again.
Harry opened his eyes with a start. “What happened?”
He was leaning against Ginny on the floor, drenched in sweat. She was cradling his head and crying. Stephen was there, too, leaning in with a half scared, half concerned expression on his pale face. Behind him Ron looked white as a ghost and Dean looked totally confused.
“You almost did it this time, kid,” Stephen told him ruefully, taking a deep breath and sitting back in relief. “Don’t ever scare me like that again.”
“It broke,” Harry muttered weakly, sitting up with effort. “Bloody hell… it broke!”
“I guess we need to do some more Occlumency work, huh?” Stephen said wryly.
“Wh-what just happened?” Dean stuttered uncertainly.
All eyes turned to him.
“Is this a friend of yours?” Stephen asked curiously.
“Sorta,” Harry said, but his eyes told a different story. He still hadn’t totally recovered from seeing his dorm mate with Ginny.
“Can he be trusted?” Stephen asked.
Harry shrugged. “He’s part of the reason this happened.”
“Huh?” Dean said, surprised. “What’d I do?”
“No,” Ginny said resolutely. “This was my fault. I’m the one who caused this to happen.”
“I shouldn’t have reacted like I did,” Harry insisted. “I knew you were just acting… I could feel it. I just couldn’t stop the feelings of jealousy. And then you and Ron started arguing and I lost it.”
Stephen stood up and helped Harry and Ginny to their feet. “I see.” Quickly he spun around and, drawing his wand, pointed the wooden stick at Dean and shouted, “Obliviate!”
Dean’s face relaxed blankly.
“Bloody hell!” Ron said, jumping. “You’re not going to Obliviate me too, are you?”
Stephen laughed. “No, Mr. Weasley. I’m not.”
Ron relaxed as Dean came around. He looked confused at first but recovered when Stephen said, “Thank you for finding me so quickly, Mr. Thomas. If I hadn’t gotten here when I did, I’m sure Mr. Potter might have suffered permanent damage from that hex Miss Weasley threw at him.”
Stephen turned to Ginny, his back to Dean. Harry saw him wink, but his voice was stern and disapproving. “I think I will see you in detention this Saturday.”
Stephen then turned to Harry. “I think you will join her, Mr. Potter.”
“What!” Harry exclaimed, almost forgetting that they were pretending. “What’d I do?”
“You allowed yourself to get hit by that curse,” Stephen said matter-of-factly, “so the two of you will be practicing your duelling techniques together in detention. I shall see you both in class with the details. Good day.” He walked off down the corridor without another word leaving the four of them to stare after him in astonishment.
“Tough luck,” Dean told Ginny. “But that was a really good hex, Ginny.” He looked at Harry in a pitying way. “Too bad you got hit with it. I think she was actually aiming for Ron.”
Ginny sighed. “I’m sorry, Harry.” She looked almost as worn out as he felt.
“That’s alright, no harm done.” They all moved towards the portrait hole. “But next time try aiming more to the left.”
“Yeah,” Ginny muttered. “I’ll definitely do that.”
As they walked towards their separate stairwells, Harry leaned in to whisper, “Thanks.” He caught her eyes and tried to communicate everything he couldn’t say aloud.
She smiled and turned to go, radiating a feeling that made Harry flush.
Climbing the stairs tiredly, he didn’t even notice that Ron had pulled Hermione over to the side of the common room, most likely to fill her in on what had happened. He and Dean ascended the stairs in silence, an undeniable rift between them that one boy didn’t understand but the other couldn’t forget.
***
Monday at breakfast, Harry was shocked when Hedwig delivered a letter from Dumbledore asking him and Stephen to meet him in the Headmaster’s office directly after DADA for lunch. As soon as class was over, they set off, Stephen grumbling the whole way about being summoned like a house-elf. Harry paid him no mind; his curiosity piqued because as far as he could remember he had never heard of a student being invited to the Headmaster’s office for lunch. It was all very unusual.
They arrived at the gargoyle and Stephen gave the password, stepping aside for Harry to lead them up the stairwell to the heavy wooden door that sat ajar. Harry knocked lightly on the door and Dumbledore voice rang out to enter.
He stood to greet them cordially. “Come in, come in.” He checked his pocket watch. “Lunch will be served in precisely two minutes. Sit, please.” He gestured to a table in the corner of the room that had been set for lunch. Four chairs stood vacant.
“Is someone joining us, Albus?” Stephen asked the Headmaster gruffly.
“You might say that,” a cold voice said from behind. Harry, Stephen, and Dumbledore turned to acknowledge Snape standing in the doorway, his hands crossed over his chest regally and an arrogant, condescending expression plastered on his pallid face.
Stephen stiffened. “What’s he doing here?” he asked in an icy, disapproving voice.
“I have invited him,” Dumbledore said mildly, “just as I have invited the both of you.”
“I have nothing to say to him,” Stephen retorted.
“Nor I, to him,” Snape shot back.
Dumbledore looked to Harry like a father might when losing his patience with his children. “I want the two of you to stop this nonsense. We have more important issues to discuss than soothing your egos.”
The two men looked slightly affronted at the reprimand, but the tension in the room seemed to recede. Dumbledore looked pleased with their efforts. “Now,” he said taking his place at the table and gesturing for them to do the same, “we have some important matters to discuss.”
Harry sat across from the Headmaster, which unfortunately put him next to Snape. The older man seemed to be pretending that Harry wasn’t in the room, and was doing a good job of ignoring him but Harry could feel his disapproval at sitting at the same table as Stephen and him — it was obvious he didn’t want to be there any more than Stephen.
“Now, first I must ask you, Harry…” Dumbledore said kindly as the lunch appeared, “what exactly happened in the corridor outside the Gryffindor Tower this Saturday?” He calmly reached for a slice of bread and began to butter it like it was the most natural thing in the world.
Harry hesitated, but after a glance from Stephen, launched into the story of what had happened, leaving out the small detail of what had caused his breakdown in the first place. It was too strange to discuss his love life in front of his Headmaster and professors, especially Snape.
“Am I correct in assuming that something upset you?” Dumbledore asked kindly. “Perhaps enough to allow your Occlumency shield to weaken?”
“Yes,” Harry confirmed, steadfastly refusing to look in Snape’s direction. He did not elaborate.
“It is not surprising that your pitiful attempt to block the Dark Lord failed,” Snape interjected. “Your skills have obviously not improved.”
“Harry is an excellent Occlumens,” Stephen snapped. “His skills are flawless.”
“This coming from a man who broke very easily, I am told,” Snape replied lackadaisically.
Stephen jumped up, rage burning on his face. “What would you know about that?” he shouted. “I suppose you get your reliable information from your Death Eater friends, huh, Snivellus?”
Snape jumped up angrily at the use of the old taunt, more of an insult than any other Harry could imagine knowing what he knew about Snape’s past. “How dare you call me that!” he roared, drawing his wand.
Stephen was ready; he didn’t even have to draw his wand. Harry ducked as Snape shot out a hex. Stephen threw up his hands and blocked the spell, sending the jet of light ricocheting off his shield and into Dumbledore’s shelf of delicate instruments — the same ones Harry had smashed once before.
“Enough!” Dumbledore roared his voice like thunder. Both men stopped but never took their eyes off the other. Dumbledore drew his wand and waved it angrily. Harry watched in fascination as the objects repaired themselves.
Dumbledore sighed. “I had hoped the two of you could work together, but I am learning more and more that it is improbable.” He turned to Harry. “I want you to work with Stephen some more, Harry. It is imperative that you not let your guard down even for an instant. This incident was unfortunate, but hopefully with additional practice it can be avoided in the future.” Harry nodded, acceptingly.
He motioned for them to sit back down, which they all did reluctantly.
“I would also like you and Miss Weasley to work together,” Dumbledore continued calmly, “in secret of course, to strengthen your bond. I was mistaken in thinking that keeping you apart would be a prudent thing. Your bond is showing itself to be a very important factor in helping you to resist Voldemort’s attempts to hurt you. I think time alone together is needed in this case.”
Harry was surprised by this request. “But how are we to do that, Sir?”
“I have arranged for a special room to be set up,” Dumbledore explained. “You will be safe there from prying eyes, and have time alone to work on your… relationship.” He eyes were practically twinkling, making Harry flush. Did he really mean what is sounded like?
“Headmaster,” Snape said in his usual disapproving voice, “do you think this is wise? After all, you are giving two teenagers license to… be alone together. It is very out of the ordinary in a school such as Hogwarts, with its history of respectability.”
Stephen spoke up. “You know as well as I, Snape, that the Soul Bond is the deepest, most binding type of magic. They might as well be married.”
Harry startled at that; he hadn’t realised that it was that big of a deal. Somehow, the Life Bond he thought he had with Ginny seemed more serious, mostly because he could be responsible for Ginny dying. He almost missed Snape’s retort.
“But they’re not married, are they? It would be inappropriate for them to engage in… adult activities when under the protection of the school.”
“I think,” Dumbledore interrupted, “that Mr. Potter and Miss Weasley are more mature than that. My intention is to give them a place to get to know each other better in order to control the bond and use it to our advantage. I am sure that they will not abuse the privilege.”
All eyes turned to Harry, who was still trying to work out what they were talking about. When it became apparent that it required a response, he hastily murmured his agreement with what the Headmaster had said which seemed to satisfy Dumbledore but not Snape. The Potions Master regarded him with a suspicious, calculating look that clearly communicated that he thought Harry was taking advantage of his situation. Stephen still seemed very amused. Harry, himself, didn’t know if he could keep that promise — not with the prospect of being alone with Ginny on a regular basis. Dumbledore’s next words shattered his hopes, however.
“I have arranged for several portraits to be placed the room,” he announced, “just in case they get… carried away and need reminding that they are still students and not adults, as of yet.”
Harry turned beat red. He could not possibly have misinterpreted Dumbledore’s meaning, and he had never felt so embarrassed.
Stephen laughed. “Shot that one down, didn’t he Quetzal?” he said, clapping a stunned Harry on the back.
“It’s not funny,” Harry muttered darkly, shrugging the arm off his shoulder.
“Sure it is,” Stephen laughed. “We were all young once. Even Snape, here, probably had his occasional fantasies in his day.”
“You are a true Gryffindor,” Snape said sarcastically. “Incorrigibly immature, just like James Potter and his entourage.”
“I’ll take that as a compliment,” Stephen said coolly.
“You would,” Snape muttered.
“Enough!” Dumbledore said firmly, ending the argument.
They had returned to their lunch now and were busy digging into the waiting food, hunger outweighing the conversation at hand. Despite his embarrassment, Harry found his appetite strong. The food was delicious… much better than normal fare in the Great Hall, not that it was ever bad. He tucked in enthusiastically, once he actually began eating.
“One other thing, Harry,” Professor Dumbledore said. “I was notified about the hearing regarding Sirius’ will. You and Remus are to meet with your attorney prior to the hearing on the 12th of October.”
“My attorney?” Harry repeated, confused. “Do I have even one? And why Remus, too?”
“Well, Remus’ name is on the summons papers,” Dumbledore answered. “And yes, my boy, you certainly do have an attorney… an excellent one, at that. His family has handled the Potter affairs for generations. His name is Mr. Howe… Seymour Howe, I believe. He was also Sirius’ attorney.”
“Of Dewy, Cheatum, and Howe law firm?” Stephen asked. “They have an excellent reputation, I’ve heard.”
Dumbledore sighed. “Except for that spot of trouble the late Mr. Cheatum found himself in a few years back.”
“Trouble?” Harry asked curiously.
“Unfortunately,” Dumbledore explained, “Mr. Cheatum was caught embezzling money from his wealthier clients. It was a huge scandal in its day, but quite entertaining.”
“Why was it entertaining?” Harry asked.
Dumbledore looked surprised but pleased that Harry was even interested. “Why, his main clients were a cat and a horse, you see.”
They discussed the finer points of the case for the remainder of the meal, and even Snape and Stephen put in their recollections of what they remembered of the scandal. To Harry, it was the closest thing he’d ever had to holding a real conversation with his sullen, bad-tempered Potions Master and it was quite disconcerting.
When the meal was over Snape hurried off to prepare for his next class. He and Stephen were also preparing to depart when Dumbledore asked to speak to Stephen alone for a moment.
“I have to get to my next class,” Harry said, picking up his heavy book bag and slinging it over his shoulder.
“Go on, Harry,” Stephen said stiffly. “I’ll catch up with you later.” Harry could tell that Stephen wished he could make a quick getaway, too. Not for the first time, he wondered what he was holding against Dumbledore.
He waved goodbye and was just about to descend the steps when the strap on his bag gave way, scattering his belongings on the ground. Sighing, he crawled around on the floor picking them up when he heard something that stopped him cold.
“Don’t ask me to do that, Albus,” Stephen’s anguished voice carried out into the entranceway through the crack of the door. “I can’t.”
“You need to face this, Stephen,” Dumbledore said to him. “I understand how you feel-”
“How could you possibly!” Stephen roared angrily. “They were my life, and now they are gone forever, no thanks to you.” There was a pregnant pause during which Harry thought about leaving but just as he turned he heard Stephen’s choked voice spit out, “Why didn’t you warn them, Albus? Why did you let it happen? You had to have known he was coming for them… she was your grand-daughter, after all.”
‘Grand-daughter?’Harry startled in surprise. Stephen’s wife had been Professor Dumbledore’s grand-daughter? Somehow he had never pictured the Headmaster with a family of his own, but certainly he had lived a very full life. Of course he had a family… or used to, at least.
“Not many knew Mariah was my great-grandchild, Stephen,” Dumbledore said, sounding extremely old to Harry’s ears. “I did not feel she was in any more danger than any other person in the Wizarding World at the time… and, if you recall, our efforts were focused elsewhere. We were trying to find a way to get you back from Voldemort’s clutches.”
Stephen sounded broken. “I wasn’t there for them,” he said so quietly Harry had to use his enhanced hearing to hear. “If I had only known about the Prophecy… that there was a chance he might come for them, I might have-”
“Might have done what, Stephen?” Dumbledore said reasonably. “You were a prisoner of war. From what you’ve told me, their intention in keeping you alive was to get information. If you had known, they could have forced the information out of you and then killed you, in addition to your wife and son. Besides, where did knowing the contents of the Prophecy get Lily and James? They were under the Fidelius, but they still lost their lives.”
His voice grew kinder and more compassionate. “The attack on Mariah and Adam was unexpected. It was a very unlucky thing for your son to be born at the end of July, but that may not have been the entire reason they were targeted. You and I had enemies long before there was ever a Prophecy, Stephen. Other than that one detail, Adam did not fit. None of us could have known Voldemort would turn his attention there.”
Harry sucked in his breath. He could barely comprehend that Stephen’s son was also targeted by Voldemort as the Chosen One… only it hadn’t been Adam, it was him. He suddenly felt very sorry for Stephen. The damned Prophecy had ruined more than one family, apparently.
“Please, Stephen,” Dumbledore implored. “Consider granting an old man’s request. We both need closure on this.”
“Seeing their graves would make it too real,” Stephen muttered. “I can’t.”
“It’s been sixteen years, son,” Dumbledore told him. “It’s time to move on.
Stephen hesitated. “I’ll think about it,” he said finally.
Harry quickly finished picking up his papers and descended the stairs in a daze, his mind full of everything he had learned.
Chapter 20: Macoa's Gift
Author's Notes: Thanks to Arnel and Melinda, as always, for their encouragement and advice on this story, and to all the people out there who leave such thoughtful and encouraging reviews. I’m going to do my best to update at least once a week from now on until the conclusion of this story – which looks to be around chapter 30. So… until next Friday…
Disclaimer:
The characters and situations of Harry Potter depicted in this story are the legal property of J.K. Rowling, Bloomsbury, and AOL Time Warner, and have been used without permission. No copyright infringement is intended.
No profit is being made off this story. It is for entertainment purposes only.
“Macoa’s Gift”
Saturday rolled around and Harry was actually eager to serve a detention, probably for the first time in his life. He was careful to leave at a different time from Ginny shortly after dinner to deflect suspicion that they might be together, and arrived just after she did in the DADA room. They didn’t have time to do much other than smile at each other when Stephen appeared in the doorway.
The older man wasted no time casting an Imperturbable Charm on the door and sealing it shut, then clearing the desks and conjuring up three cushy armchairs, a coffee table, and tea for three.
“That’s better,” he said, satisfied with his handiwork. He motioned for them to sit down and he did the same.
“I thought it would be nice if we got to know each other better, Miss Weasley,” he said, addressing Ginny. “I’m sorry to say I know almost nothing about you, since Harry did not see fit to tell me anything during those long weeks we spent together this summer.” He shot Harry a look that clearly said he was not angry, but not exactly pleased.
Harry returned his gaze evenly, but had the grace to look apologetic. “I was going to tell you at one point,” he replied, shrugging, “but you started teasing me and I decided you’d learn the truth sooner or later, so I figured I’d let you wonder.”
“Has anyone ever told you, Harry,” Stephen said, perfectly serious, “that you’d make an excellent poker player?”
He laughed when Harry looked startled, but Ginny asked in a confused tone, “What’s poker?”
Harry answered. “It’s that Muggle card game that Dudley and his friends were playing this summer with Lee, remember?”
“Oh,” Ginny said. “For a minute there I thought it was some sort of game where you poke something, and I just didn’t see how that fit with what Professor Hunter was trying to say.” She blushed when both Harry and Stephen laughed and Harry could feel her embarrassment.
“Don’t be embarrassed,” Harry said kindly. “You had no way of knowing since it’s a Muggle thing.”
“Which brings me to my other reason for holding this little meeting,” Stephen interjected, drawing their attention back to him. “I need to hear the whole story about what happened last weekend if I am to have any hope of helping you to prevent it in the future.”
Harry shifted uncomfortably. “We already told you.”
“You told me just enough, Quetzal,” he said, levelling Harry with a piercing stare. “But I need to really know, which is why I thought I’d ask Ginny.” He turned his eyes to her and she looked back unflinchingly.
“I was playing my part, chatting up Dean a bit because I wanted him to ask me to Hogsmeade,” she explained. “I hadn’t planned it, but he ambushed me on the way back up to the Tower and so I thought I’d take advantage of the situation. If people thought we were an item, then it would throw suspicion off me, which is what I thought everyone wanted.”
She sighed and ran a hand through her hair, the only outward sign that she was nervous. “I thought it would be really simple… a little flirting, throw out some suggestive phrases… but then he took it one step further and was really acting like he wanted to kiss me. I panicked because that wasn’t what I wanted at all, but I couldn’t exactly tell him that, could I? Next thing I know, Dean is leaning down trying to kiss me and I turned my cheek just in time to avoid it and caught sight of Harry and my brother standing there staring.”
“I felt something wasn’t right,” Harry added, trying to get the image Ginny had just painted out of his mind before he lost it again, “…so Ron and I rushed to get to where I knew she was, but when I saw Dean kiss her, I guess I lost my temper. So did Ron — he and Ginny started arguing, and the more I stood there and listened… the angrier I got. I felt the wall slipping, but thought I had it under control. Then something I heard while they were yelling at each other made it shatter. I didn’t even see it coming.”
“Okay,” Stephen said, calmly sipping his tea. Harry knew him well enough to know that he did this to give himself time to gather his thoughts. “I think I see what the problem is. But first I need to back up and ask you something, Harry.”
“Sure,” Harry said willingly.
“How did you know where Ginny was?”
Harry sat, stunned. He hadn’t really thought about it, but now that it was pointed out to him it seemed unbelievable. How, exactly had he known where to find Ginny? It hadn’t been hard… he’d just followed his instinct.
“I just knew,” he said simply. “She needed me and I didn’t stop to think about where she was because I already knew.”
Stephen took another sip. “Hmmm, interesting,” he murmured.
“Why is that important?” Harry asked.
“I may come in handy sometime,” Stephen answered. “I just think it’s something we should explore.”
“So I’m going to be taking extra lessons with Harry?” Ginny asked. Harry could feel her worry.
Stephen must have sensed it too because he asked, “Will that be a problem for you, Miss Weasley?”
Ginny hesitated. “No, I suppose not. I understand that this is important, but I’m really busy as it is. Between Quidditch and homework, I don’t have much free time.”
Stephen nodded. “Ah, yes… it’s your OWL year, isn’t it? I forgot.” He turned his sharp eyes on her. “We’ll find a way to make this succeed. I assure you that the work we do will be important — much more important than end-of-year exams.”
Ginny seemed resigned that she had no choice. Harry knew her well enough to know that in all honesty she would find time, regardless of the amount of work she had to put in. He took her hand and squeezed it to communicate his gratefulness, and she shot him a quick smile.
“So, Stephen,” Harry said, getting back to business. “What’s your theory on why my shield broke?”
“In a word… Ginny,” Stephen said mildly, sipping his tea. He waved off their simultaneous outburst. “You certainly didn’t do it on purpose,” he clarified. “But, as I see it, you are Harry’s biggest strength and yet his greatest weakness.”
Harry was confused. How could she be both? “What do you mean, Xolotl?” Stephen’s island name slipped off his tongue like he’d been using it his whole life, but it was the first time he had ever called his teacher by that name. Stephen looked surprised, too. He was keenly aware of Ginny looking at him in a funny way, as if she didn’t understand.
“Why are you using Nahuatl, Harry?” Stephen asked in the ancient language.
Harry faltered. “I-I’m not sure,” he answered back, still using the old tongue. “I wasn’t even thinking about it — it just slipped.” Something had been bothering him about that, though. “Hermione says I shouldn’t still be able to speak the language. The translation charm you used on me should have worn off after a few days.”
“I know,” he said, still using their private language. “The only explanation I have for that is complicated. If you recall, I performed that spell after you were marked by the Ancient Ones that night at the temple.”
“So?”
Stephen nodded towards Harry’s chest. “Ehecailacozcatl.”
“Ehecailacozcatl?” Harry asked. “What’s it have to do with this?”
“Ehecailacozcatl is the mark of the gods, Harry,” he said patiently. “I told you that it enhances your innate magical power. When I performed that spell on you, it somehow made the language part of your knowledge base. In other words, Nahutl is part of you now, and will most likely never need refreshing.”
“Will someone please tell me what you’re saying,” Ginny said irritably. She turned to Harry. “And since when do you speak another language?”
Harry explained to her what they had been talking about and she seemed intrigued. “What else can this Ehecail-thingy do?”
“We haven’t had time to find out much,” Harry admitted, “because we were a little busy with other things at the time. But I do know I can perform some elemental magic and hard spells suddenly became easier for me… it requires much less effort to learn new spells, too.”
“Your spells became more powerful after that,” Hunter added. “I didn’t know you well before, but from the little I worked with you I’d say you were already powerful; after that it felt as if your magic was much stronger. And then there’s the Animagus transformations… No one exactly taught you that, did they, Quetzal?”
Harry blushed. “Well, Macoa had a little something to do with that, but I suppose it wasn’t the most traditional method to learn it,” he mumbled.
“Animagus transformations?” Ginny said incredulously. “Harry?”
He caught her eye. “I can transform into a snake and a Quetzal bird,” he admitted. “So far….”
“Two forms?” Ginny said her eyes wide. “Isn’t that supposed to be impossible?”
Harry shrugged. “I hadn’t really thought about it much since that night, but yeah… I suppose it’s unusual.” He scratched his head thoughtfully. “Funny, I thought I could actually manage more, but I suppose not.”
Ginny caught Stephen’s eye. “Could he be a Shape-shifter?”
Stephen startled. “I hadn’t thought about that, but of course it’s possible.”
“A Shape-shifter? What’s that?”
Stephen answered. “A Shape-shifter is like a Metamorphmagus, only instead of changing their physical features they can take the shape of any animal they want.”
“But if I am one, how come I didn’t know it before?” Harry asked.
“Have you ever tried to transform?” Hunter asked.
“No,” Harry admitted.
“Well, there you go. Maybe your little snake friend just gave you the right push to do it at exactly the right time, or maybe you always had the ability and it was there inside you, lying dormant. Ehecailacozcatl may have brought those latent abilities to the surface.” He conjured a notebook and quill with a snap of his fingers. “I think I’d better start taking notes of things we need to explore.”
“You have the same bracelets as Harry,” Ginny said to Stephen as if putting together a puzzle and discovering the solution for the first time. “And you can do wandless magic, too!”
Stephen looked angry at himself for having forgotten, but Harry said, “Don’t worry… she knows, Stephen. I told you that I can’t keep secrets from my friends. Ron and Hermione know about the bands, too.”
“We talked about that, Quetzal,” Stephen said with disapproval.
“No,” Harry said, cutting him off. “You talked, I never agreed. I trust my friends, Stephen. They have been saving my arse for a long time now… much longer than you. I couldn’t hide it from them.” Harry squared his jaw. “Now, what was all that rubbish about Ginny being my greatest weakness?”
“I believe I said,” Stephen clarified, “that she is both your greatest strength and your greatest weakness.” He took another sip of tea. “Does Ginny make you feel strong, Quetzal?” he asked quietly.
“Er, of course,” Harry stammered, unsure at what Stephen was driving at. “I always feel stronger when she’s around.”
“And when you saw her with Dean Thomas… how did that make you feel?” Stephen asked mildly.
Harry hesitated. “I felt unsure of myself… and a great sense of loss, like the bottom had just dropped out of my world. It was worse than Dementors.”
Ginny looked startled. “I made you feel that way?”
Harry nodded.
“I was so upset myself that I didn’t feel what you were feeling until it was too late,” she said. “I was just so embarrassed and angry at Ron for treating me like a child, and there were so many emotions coming at me from all different directions, I didn’t realise…”
“There’s no use feeling guilty for what’s done, Miss Weasley,” Stephen said easily. “But I hope you can see what I mean… When things are going well between you two, Harry feels strong and empowered. But when you doubt each other or argue, Harry is vulnerable. It’s as simple as that.”
He smiled at their distressed expressions. “It’s quite normal, I assure you. Love is a very powerful, but sometimes fickle, force. When love is working the way it’s supposed to, it can do amazing things. But when love goes wrong, it can often have the opposite effect. Look at all the things people have done in the name of love. Wars have been waged… suicide, revenge, murder — it’s happened countless times in every society.” He fixed his eyes on Harry. “Remember Tlaloc and everything he did in the name of love?” he said pointedly.
“Who’s Tlaloc?” Ginny asked, looking at Harry and then Stephen curiously.
Harry shifted uncomfortably. “I’ll tell you later,” he mumbled. Turning to Stephen he asked, “So what are you telling me, Stephen? That so long as things are going well between Ginny and me, I’m okay?”
“I’m saying that you need to be careful,” Stephen said seriously. “You share a bond that is so unique and rare there hasn’t been a recorded case in hundreds of years. But being privileged to someone else’s emotions can be dangerous if you don’t have a deep trust with one another. Letting another person share your emotions is all good and well, except when those certain negative feeling that are bound to come up from time to time are directed at the person you love. No relationship is perfect — take it from someone who knows. You’re going to have conflicts… disagreements, arguments. But somehow you need to stay focused on how much you mean to each other and never lose sight of it. Understand?”
Harry and Ginny both nodded. “We understand,” Harry said, echoing what he knew Ginny was thinking. He grasped her hand and she squeezed back fiercely.
“Now,” Stephen said, standing up and smiling warmly at them. “How about we take a look at your new hideout?”
***
“Wow,” Harry said, at a loss of words.
“This is… amazing,” Ginny agreed, shooting him a wicked smile. “I can’t believe this is all for us.”
The room was off the third floor corridor, the same room that had once held the trap door Harry, Ron, and Hermione had gone through so many years ago. The floor had remained off limits since Harry’s first year and now people didn’t think much of it. They just knew not to go there, and it was no big deal. When Stephen had led them here, it had been a complete shock. Gone was the three-headed dog of Hagrid’s, and the trap door had mysteriously disappeared, too. The room, once run-down and bare, was now full of comfortable furniture, a warm crackling fireplace, and several things that Ginny had never seen before.
“What is that?” she asked, pointing to a large, rectangular table covered in green felt. There were pockets at each corner and in the middle of each side. Small coloured balls were contained in a wooden triangle and a rack held some long wooden sticks.
Harry grinned widely. “That’s called a billiards table. The Americans call it pool, I think. It’s a Muggle game.” He turned to Stephen. “This is brilliant.”
Stephen grinned. “I transfigured the billiards table,” he said proudly. “I can teach you how to play, if you want.”
Ginny nodded eagerly. “I’d love to learn,” she said. “Is it hard?”
“That depends,” Stephen told her, walking over to the rack and lifting off a stick. “Some people seem to have a natural aptitude for the game. Others may never catch on, no matter how many times they play. It’s all in the eye,” he said mysteriously with a wink.
“I’ve seen this game once or twice,” Harry told them, running his hand along the side of the beautifully carved table, “but never had the chance to actually play. Uncle Vernon used to brag that he was a champion Billiards player in college. He tried to teach Dudley once, but made me sit in the corner the whole time and not make a sound. I remember being fascinated by the game. Dudley was rubbish and ended up making a hole in the green felt with his stick. The owner wanted to sue, but my Uncle settled the matter by writing him a cheque. That was the last time Dudley ever tried to play, to my knowledge.”
Ginny grinned. “You have such heart-warming stories, Harry,” she said dryly. “One day you should write the account of your childhood down in a book — kind of a guide about how not to raise children. I could just strangle those retched Muggles for how they treat you.” Her face was teasing, but Harry caught the anger behind her words.
“Let’s not waste our time talking about the Dursleys,” Harry said, ending this line of conversation. He wished he’d never brought it up, and truthfully didn’t even know why he had. It was just a memory, and for some reason the billiards table had triggered a sort of melancholy that he’d rather forget. He looked around the room. “What else is here?”
“Well,” Stephen said, looking around. “There’s a table over there for you to study when you need some peace and quiet and the common room gets to be too much. I wouldn’t advise making a habit of it, or people might get suspicious.” He pointed to a large cabinet. “In there you’ll find all sorts of Muggle and Magical board games, cards for Exploding Snap, a chess set, and even some Gobstones.”
Pointing his stick at the fireplace area, he waved his arm in a small semi-circle and some music floated through the air. “The room is equipped with a Wizard Wireless system hidden behind the mantle. Just concentrate on listening to music and what type of song you want to hear, and wave your wand in that direction. It’ll come on. You can change the style of music the same way.” He flipped through some of the choices ranging from classical to some of the more modern stuff.
Ginny grinned and tried it herself, blasting the stereo system with latest Weird Sister’s single. She and Harry laughed at Stephen’s shocked expression. “My God, you teenagers are twisted,” he yelled, waving his hand to silence the blaring song. “That wasn’t music… that was a form of torture. I know I’ve been out of touch for a number of years, but I can’t think music has changed that much in sixteen years.”
“I doubt the music has changed,” Harry said cheekily. “Probably just you getting old.”
Stephen sighed. “Yeah, there is that,” he said, surprising Harry. “Anyway, the last thing I need to do before leaving you alone is to introduce you to your minders.”
“Minders?” Ginny said her forehead wrinkled in confusion.
“Can we please skip that whole explanation?” Harry begged Stephen, his face red with embarrassment.
Stephen laughed. “Of course, Quetzal.” He turned to Ginny. “Albus thought he’d place a few portraits in the room as company… just so you don’t feel so alone.”
“Ah…” Ginny said knowingly. Then she, too, reddened. “Oh.” Recovering quickly, she laughed. “So who’d he get to keep us in check? The old woman who lived in a shoe, perhaps?”
Harry felt like he wanted to sink through the floor. “No, although that wouldn’t have been a bad idea,” Stephen said, chuckled. “Actually, I think you might prefer her to the blokes they got.” He walked over to the wall and pulled the sheet back. “Meet your new minders.”
“No way!” Harry whistled and Ginny laughed.
Four teenage boys stared back at them from the canvas, having been interrupted from a wild party in what looked to be the Gryffindor Common Room. One of them had a tie around his head and looked amazingly like Harry; another was dancing on the table amid a crowd of animated, cheering people, all with adoring faces but otherwise devoid of personality. The third was watching it all with an amused expression on his thin, haggard face and the fourth was watching the boy on the table adoringly, like he wished he could be the one up there. It was the Marauders in all their glory.
“Who’s that, down there?” the younger Sirius asked casually, hopping down from the table. “Have they finally taken that damned sheet off us?”
“Obviously, Padfoot,” James said sarcastically, shading his eyes from the brightly lit room. “Brilliant as usual.”
“Can you see them?” Peter asked eagerly.
“Keep you knickers on, Wormtail,” Sirius told the shorter boy. “I see them, but they’re just staring at us with gobsmacked expressions on their faces. I say, Prongs,” he said amazed, “that one looks just like you, don’t you think so Moony?”
“Naw,” Harry’s father said dismissively with a wave of his hand. “I’m much better looking. His nose is all wrong, although his eyes do look familiar…”
“Now that you mention it,” Lupin said, frowning, “he does bear a striking resemblance to our mighty Prongs. Did anyone catch his name, by any chance?” he asked the other boys.
They all shook their heads.
“Hey you!” Sirius bellowed from up above. “What’s your name, mate?”
“H-Harry,” he managed to spit out, ignoring Ginny’s twitching lips that were threatening to break into a smile. “You’re the Marauders,” he stated, hearing the awe in his voice.
Stephen chuckled softly. “They certainly are,” he said.
They all seemed to beam. James poked Sirius in the ribs with his elbow. “Told you we’d be legends one day, didn’t I Padfoot?”
“That one there looks familiar, too,” Sirius said, pointing towards Stephen. “He reminds me of someone.” Addressing Stephen, he asked politely, “Are you related to Stevie Hunter, by any chance, sir?”
Stephen coughed and Harry grinned. “Stevie?” he repeated gleefully. “You used to go by the name Stevie?”
“Only to some,” Stephen said, suddenly stiff and formal again. Harry revelled in his teacher’s embarrassment; Stephen had always enjoyed taking the mickey out of him on occasion. “That was a long time ago,” he said, obviously trying to maintain some dignity.
Sirius looked at Ginny and whistled softly. “Who are you pretty lady, and where have you been all my life?” he said grinning appreciatively.
Ginny blushed and Harry felt his temper stir. “That’s my girlfriend, Padfoot,” he said possessively.
“Ooops,” Sirius said, yelping as James hit him on the back of the head.
“I apologize for my friend here,” he told her smoothly. “He has the manners of a dog.”
Ginny grinned. “I know, but I think I can look past it this once.”
“Well, it’s no wonder, really,” James went on in that same smooth voice, “you are a very beautiful young witch.” He winked suggestively.
Lupin cleared his throat meaningfully. “Might I remind you, my dear Prong, of the other red-head you are so fond of? I’d hate to see the condition you’d be in if she found you flirting again. Remember the last time?”
James’ face reddened, and he stood up straighter. “Ah, yes. Quite right, Moony, quite right.”
Harry turned to Stephen. “You can’t be serious,” he said.
“Actually he’s not,” Sirius quipped from up above. “I am.”
Harry ignored him. “How did Dumbledore get hold of a portrait of the Marauders?”
“He said he recovered it from storage,” Stephen said, shrugging. “Apparently, before they left Hogwarts they had it commissioned as their final prank on Fitch. They wanted to make sure their legacy here as the greatest pranksters Hogwarts had ever known was not forgotten.”
“Damn brilliant of us, wasn’t it?” Sirius said proudly. “It was my idea.”
“Wrong again, Padfoot,” James said shaking his head. “It was my idea, remember?”
“Actually Padfoot, he’s right,” Peter squeaked. “It was Prongs’ idea.”
“Well,” Sirius said indignantly, “I paid for it.”
“Prong paid half,” Lupin corrected. “And I made the frame.”
“I made the plaque,” Peter whined.
“And a damned fine plaque it is Pete,” James said approvingly.
Harry pulled up a chair and climbed up for a closer look. “I solemnly swear that I am up to no good,” he read. “Couldn’t you come up with something more original?”
Peter looked affronted. “That’s original,” he said defensively.
“It’s the same password as the map,” Harry shot back.
James bent down so he was eye level with Harry. “Who told you about the map?” he asked suspiciously.
“I bet it was those red-headed boys… those twins,” Peter said worriedly, wringing his hands. “I knew they’d get us into trouble one day.”
“You know Fred and George?” Ginny asked, surprised.
“Yes, of course,” Sirius said unabashed. “Those lads are our protégés… our successors. They found our portrait their first year and have been coming to us for advice ever since.” His face darkened worriedly. “We haven’t seen them in awhile… They are all right, aren’t they? Haven’t got themselves blown up or anything?”
“Oh, they’re fine,” Ginny assured him. “They left school early last year in a manner you would have been proud of. They own their own joke shop now and are doing quite well. I’m their sister.”
The marauders exchanged impressed looks. “Thought she looked familiar,” Sirius told James knowingly.
James, who was still crouched down eying Harry asked, “So, they gave you the map, then?”
“Yeah,” Harry told him, feeling more than a little uncomfortable talking to the image of his seventeen year old father. “I’ve had it since my third year. It’s saved my arse more times than I can count.”
James nodded approvingly. “Good.” Seeming to come to a decision, he got up. “I like him,” he announced to know one in particular. “Anyone with hair like that has got to be cool.”
“He’s got hair that looks just like yours,” Lupin said with a scowl. “I still say he’s a relative of yours, Prongs.”
“Are you?” James asked Harry.
“Yeah,” Harry admitted. “I am.”
“Really?” James said, his face lighting up. “Are you a cousin, are you? I never had any brothers or sisters, so I know you can’t be closely related.”
Harry’s lips twitched. “Actually, no,” he said, finding it hard not to smile. “I’m not your cousin, I’m your son. My name is Harry… Harry Potter and you’re James Potter, my father.”
James looked like he had been struck by a thunderbolt. His face went white and he sat down heavily in a nearby chair. Sirius came over and clapped a hand on his shoulder. “Congratulations mate,” he said in a totally unsupportive way. “I always knew you had it in you.”
Lupin grinned. “He looks just like you, messy hair and all, Prongsie. If it weren’t for those green eyes and that scar on his forehead, you could be twins.”
“He’s so old,” Peter said, staring at Harry strangely.
“I hate to admit it, Wormtail,” Sirius told him, “but for once you’re right. How old are you Harry?”
“I turned sixteen in July,” Harry told them, jumping down from the chair.
“Well, I see you got the Potter good looks,” James said sardonically, recovering his wit. His father’s face now held a warmer look when his gaze fell on Harry, and it made him feel something he’d never felt before. Harry knew that this was just a portrait and that the people inside were not really alive, but somehow a missing piece of his life was slowly falling back into place. Talking to the images of his teenage father and Godfather was healing something inside him that he didn’t even know was broken.
“Who’s the lucky bird to land the great stag?” Sirius asked Harry.
“Lily,” Harry answered. “Lily Evans is… was my mother.”
Sirius whistled appreciatively, but James blanched. “What do you mean ‘was’? Is she…?”
Harry nodded. “Yes, she is.” He felt terrible having to break the news to them, but figured it couldn’t do any harm. They were only a reflection of the people they had been, and what could it hurt telling them? It wasn’t like it could change anything. All of the Marauders looked dumbstruck.
“When… how?” James asked shakily.
“I’m sorry,” Harry offered. “Maybe I shouldn’t have told you. It happened when I was very little. I don’t remember much, but she… you were killed by Voldemort. It’s a long story.”
All of them seemed to collapse at the news. Stephen put his hand on Harry’s shoulder, and Ginny reached for his hand supportively.
“And what about the rest of us?” Lupin asked quietly.
“You’re still around, Moony,” Harry told him, noticing how Lupin didn’t smile at the news. “You taught Defence Against the Dark Arts here in my third year. You’re working for Dumbledore and the Order of the Phoenix, although I’m not sure what you’re doing for them.”
“What about me?” Peter asked fearfully.
Harry was at a loss for words, unsure about what to tell him. He didn’t want to reveal how Peter had betrayed them all, when he had to live with the other three in the same portrait for all eternity. It might be like World War III inside the painting once the others found out.
Ginny saved him from answering by saying, “You’re still around, too. In fact, you lived with my family for awhile.” Peter seemed relieved and thankfully didn’t press for details.
“And me?” Sirius asked, after a long pause. “Am I still around.”
Harry took a deep breath. “You were until last year,” he told the younger Sirius truthfully. “But you got killed in June battling a group of Death Eaters. Your cousin Bellatrix killed you in a duel. She fired a curse and you fell through a veil… and you died.”
“Damn Bella,” Sirius said grimly, shaking his head. “She always was an excellent dueller, but I always thought I could take her when push came to shove.”
“I think that’s enough information for one day,” Stephen told them all. “How about I introduce you to the other portraits, Harry?”
“There’s more?” Harry said, surprised, looking around. Sure enough, he spotted two others hanging on the wall, although theirs was not covered with a sheet. Apparently, the Marauder painting was meant as a surprise.
“Two more,” Stephen said leading them over for a proper introduction. “This is Galatea Merrythought. Professor Merrythought taught Defence Against the Dark Arts for over fifty years here at Hogwarts.”
Harry made small talk with the portrait, but had a hard time focusing on the old man, even though it did register that the former DADA professor seemed quite intelligent for a painting. His mind was still spinning over his conversation with the Marauders. Likewise, he barely said two words as Ginny chatted up Madame Derwent, a former Headmistress of Hogwarts from the early to mid 1700s. He kept glancing over at the portrait that contained his father and Godfather.
Ginny slipped an arm around his waist and hugged him, pulling him away while Stephen carried on a conversation with the witch in the painting.
“Are you okay?” she asked him worriedly.
“Yeah,” Harry said with a tired sigh. “But I think I’m ready to go back to the Tower. I just need some time to… think.”
She nodded understandingly. “I’ll walk you.”
Harry shook his head. “No, that’s okay. You stay and get to know Stephen a bit. I want the two of you to get to know one another.”
Ginny looked at him knowingly. “And we can’t talk about you as freely with you right here,” she said, finishing his thought.
Harry ducked his head and chuckled softly. “The thought had crossed my mind.”
“I’ll be up shortly,” she promised.
In a daze Harry left, his mind spinning with the shock of meeting his father face to face for the very first time.
***
Somehow Harry made it back to Gryffindor Tower without really thinking about where he was headed. His mind was too full of the image of his teenage father and godfather, and the looks on their portrait faces when he had told them their fate. Before that, they had seemed like any carefree Seventh Years living one big party inside that portrait, and he had ruined it for them.
Fate…
Even the word sounded ugly to his mind. Why did everything always come back around to that, like the universe was a big play and all the people were only here to play parts already written for them? Where was the choice… the spontaneity? Stephen had told him that he did have choices, but most of the time it felt like he was locked into a path that only had one possible ending. His fate and Voldemort’s fate were so intertwined that it felt like he had no alternative other than the path that he was on now. Was he born to be a killer, just like the fiend he was fighting?
‘…Neither can live while the other survives.’
The common room was a blur as he passed the chattering clusters of students doing homework or playing games. His feet trudged up the stairs to the dormitory, heavy with guilt. All he wanted was to lie down, close his eyes, and try not to think.
He swung open the door and came face to face with Dean.
The other boy’s eyes flew open in surprise and he visibly jumped. Harry, who had his mind on this afternoon’s events, silently cursed himself for not using his sensing skills to determine if anyone was in the room.
“What’s gotten into you?” he practically snarled, annoyed at Dean’s rabbit-scared expression. He gave Dean a hard look before ducking around him, headed for his bed.
To his surprise, Dean stepped aside quickly. “N-nothing,” he stammered.
The way he said it caused Harry’s guard to fly up almost immediately. “Yeah?” he said angrily. “I think you’re lying.” His eyes scanned the Sixth Year’s room with practiced ease, searching for the cause of Dean’s skittishness. Immediately, they landed on his bed and Harry had just enough time to see Macoa’s tail disappear under his pillow. The area around his bed looked different than he had left it this morning, like someone had been looking through his things. He spun around.
“You were going through my things,” he accused, ignoring Dean’s scared expression and shaking head. “Don’t bother to deny it. I know you were. What’d you think you’d find anyway? Did you think you’d find Voldemort lurking under the coverlet, or my stash of Dark Arts texts hiding inside my trunk?”
“I-I was just looking for a quill,” Dean stammered, his voice breaking nervously. His eyes darted towards the door and Harry thought he was actually thinking of making a break for it. This was exactly the reason he had chosen to keep Macoa and her egg a secret from his other dorm mates. Ron, Hermione, and even Ginny’s reactions hadn’t exactly been positive about his new friend, and he hadn’t wanted to scare Seamus, Neville, and Dean. But at the moment, he was kind of glad that Dean was a little bit scared. Served him right for going through his things…
Harry stalked over to his bed and bent down to pick up his book bag. Rummaging around inside, he pulled out a quill and thrust it at him, noticing how he recoiled from the proximity. “Well… go on, take it. That’s what you were looking for wasn’t it?”
Dean’s face hardened as he grabbed the quill, and Harry knew he had not really been looking for the writing instrument at all. The question was what had he been looking for?
“I’m going to go find Ginny,” Dean announced. “Don’t wait up for me.”
“You do that,” Harry said, his mouth drawing a hard line. “I’ll be sure to let Ron know when I see him.”
Harry almost laughed as Dean’s face paled, but he was a bit disappointed when Dean didn’t rise to the bait. “You know, Harry… I can understand why Ron doesn’t like me seeing Ginny. She’s his little sister, after all. But what I can’t figure out is what you have against it.”
“Ron’s like a brother to me,” Harry replied evenly. “That makes Ginny family.”
Dean looked sceptical. “I don’t think that’s the reason. She certainly seems to be spending a lot of time with the three of you these days. Every time I try to get close to her lately, she always has some excuse. It makes me wonder if there isn’t something more going on here than meets the eye.”
“Ginny and I are friends,” Harry said adamantly. “Like I said… she’s very important to me. If she doesn’t want to be around you, then I’d do yourself a favour and stay away from her.”
Dean glanced at Harry’s bed just before he moved towards the door. On his way out he threw over his shoulder in a cavalier manner, “Hope Ginny knows what she’s getting into hanging around you, Potter. I think the Sorting Hat must have made a mistake. Only a stinking Slytherin would keep a bloody snake as a pet.” Before Harry could retort, Dean was gone.
Feeling very ill-tempered, Harry walked over to the bed. “What happened?” he asked in Parseltongue.
Macoa slithered out from under the pillow. “The boy wass ssearching through your belongings looking for ssomthing…” Macoa told him. “I think he wass looking for evidencce of your relationship with your beloved.”
Harry swore. “Did he find anything?”
“He found me… and my heart.”
“He found the egg?” Harry asked, alarmed.
He had kept Macoa’s egg safe, tucked away in a basket in the corner of his bed. At first the egg had looked like an ordinary egg, whitish in colour but clearly magical. Over the weeks, it had changed. Lately, it was growing more and more jewel-like. When the light caught the egg many different colours could be seen emanating from the hard outer shell; like a prism, it seemed to separate the light, dividing it into all the colours of the rainbow.
Macoa slithered up his arm. “I do not trusst thiss boy. I fear for my child. I think it iss time to give the care of my heart over to your love for ssafe-keeping.”
“But it’s not hatched yet,” Harry said. “Is it safe to do that yet?”
“The egg needs time to attune itself to her magical aura,” Macoa said. “My job is finished. In time, the egg will hatch, but I can not say when. She must carry it with her wherever she goes.”
“Won’t she be taking the chance that it might break?” Harry asked.
Macoa laughed, a sound that still sounded strange to Harry’s ears considering that she was a snake. “The outer shell is harder than any mineral found insside the deepesst bowelss of the earth. It iss not posssible to break it by any meanss other than the oldest, most ancient magic. Such magic can only be found on the island where it was made.”
Satisfied, Harry picked up the egg and examined it more closely. “It is beautiful. Ginny is very lucky to have it.”
“She iss very lucky to have you, Princce. Take it and find your lady. Tell her the gift comess from my heart and to keep it ssafe.”
Harry put the egg in his pocket, marvelling at the soothing vibrations it was giving off. He immediately felt calmer… almost peaceful. “Thank you, Macoa. You are a true friend.”
“I am your faithful servant, My Princce.” With those parting words, she slid out of sight.
Harry made his way down to the common room, feeling much better than he had in a long time. He suspected that the egg in his pocket had something to do with that. Hopefully, Ginny would feel this good too from Macoa’s gift.
He found Ron and Hermione cuddling in front of the fire.
Ron looked up from his position on the floor. Hermione had chosen her favourite squishy armchair to lounge in while she played with the puzzle box Harry had given her. Hermione had seemed fascinated by the object and spent her leisure time trying to open the box. Even Ron and Harry had tried, but neither had any success. Ron was pouring over the latest issue of Quidditch World Weekly.
“Where have you been?” he asked as Harry plopped down beside him. “Where’s Ginny? I thought you two had detention?”
“That should have been over hours ago,” Hermione admonished Ron. “They can’t have been in detention all this time.” She turned to Harry reproachfully. “We’ve been worried about you.”
“Stephen showed us the secret room,” Harry told them. “You’ll never guess where it’s located…”
“I’d guess, the third floor corridor…” Hermione said dismissively, distracted by the intricately carved box.
Harry startled, slightly disappointed. “How’d you know?”
Hermione looked up, surprised. “I’m right?” She looked pleased with herself. “It’s just that if I was Dumbledore, that’s where I’d put a secret room. Most of the school is afraid to even set foot inside that corridor. The older students remember hearing Fluffy barking and growling at all hours of the day and night from behind that door. Since our first year the stories have grown wilder and wilder. Besides, there’re lots of enchantments that protect it from the idle student wandering in there by mistake.”
“I didn’t know that,” Harry said. He thought it was funny he hadn’t felt any of the enchantments when he and Stephen had walked over there after their meeting. “Are you sure?”
Hermione shrugged. “Have you ever tried to sneak back in there before this term?”
Harry shook his head. “I’d forgotten all about it, actually.”
“That’s part of the enchantment,” she said with authority. “It’s a distraction charm. Whenever you get close, something comes up to distract you and you end up wandering in the other direction. It doesn’t dispel the rumours, but it does make it harder to sneak in there.”
Ron looked up, mystified. “How do you know these things?”
“I stay alert to my surroundings, Ron,” she said, as if it was obvious. “Distraction charms are a basic concealing technique, and it doesn’t hurt to always be on the lookout for them. If you weren’t always thinking about feeding your face so much, you might be surprised at what you find.”
“That still doesn’t explain why I didn’t notice any signs of enchantments when Ginny and I went through there tonight,” Harry said. “I can usually detect signs of magical activity.”
“Since when?” Ron asked.
Harry shrugged. “Since this summer. Even now I can almost hear the vibrations of the wards around the castle. Hogwarts is so full of magic that it took me a few weeks to adjust to seeing and feeling it all around me. Now I hardly notice it.”
“That’s probably why you didn’t notice the enchantments,” Hermione said logically. “Besides, I’m sure that Professor Dumbledore would have tuned them to accept you and Ginny, so there would have been nothing to set off any alarm bells.”
“You’re probably right,” he admitted.
Ron was still giving him a funny look. “I’ve never met anyone who could actually feel magical energy. That’s a bit… odd, isn’t it?”
Harry shifted uncomfortably. “I’m sure that lots of people can do it.”
Hermione shook her head. “Not at all, Harry. Only very powerful and highly attuned wizards have ever reported being able to see or feel magic unless it’s directly focused at them. Sure, we all are sensitive to it because we are basically magical beings, but the average witch or wizard isn’t that sensitive to things such as magical wards and enchantments. How long have you been able to see the magic around you?”
“It’s all due to that spell Stephen had me do on the island,” Harry said quietly, checking to see who might be listening. Thankfully no one was around, so he could speak freely.
“What spell?” Ron asked.
“It’s a spell used by the Aurors during training,” he explained. “It’s called Sensus Discessus Tempestium and it takes your senses away one by one.”
Unsurprisingly, Hermione gasped. “I’ve read about that spell! I can’t believe Professor Hunter put that on you, Harry! That spell is supposed to be really dangerous. It should only be done under very controlled circumstances. People have gone insane under that spell!”
“It wasn’t a bloody picnic, I promise,” he said grimly. “Five days I went without being able to see a thing.”
Ron whistled and Hermione gasped, “Five days! Harry, that’s…”
“Amazing? Yeah, so Stephen told me. He said that he held the record in his day at the Academy, and that was three days.” He picked at an invisible piece of lint on the rug next to him. “It definitely helped my dueling, though. I was much faster after that. Not even Stephen can beat me now.”
Hermione frowned. “That’s not true, Harry. Professor Hunter won the duel in class that first day.”
Harry shook his head. “I held back, Hermione. He told me before we began that I had to make it a fair fight and that I wasn’t allowed to use any of my new abilities.”
“New abilities? What kind of new abilities?” Ron asked curiously.
Harry kept his voice low. “I have some elemental powers. I’m especially good at creating windstorms and funnels, but I can manipulate all four elements to some degree. I also know I can create tidal waves when I need to — like with the Lethifolds this summer. I still have a long way to go on some of the other elements, but Stephen thinks with practice I’ll be able to command all four elements easily.”
“Wait a minute…” Hermione practically shrieked, causing some people to turn and stare at them. Harry shushed her quickly. “Hold on a moment. You never said anything about running into Lethifolds this summer, Harry,” she whispered when the students’ attentions were back on other things.
“Er… I forgot?” he said lamely, knowing that it wasn’t true. “Look… I didn’t want to alarm you. It happened after the ballgame — the one I was forced to fight in. Luckily, they showed up after I won, otherwise I might have been in even bigger trouble. Stephen and I drove the Lethifolds into the ocean with the help of the warriors, and then I used my command of water to drown them. Did you know that they can’t swim?”
Hermione shook her head dumbly, still apparently processing all this new information.
“Neither did I,” Harry said happily.
“Why would you have been in big trouble if you had lost the game?” Ron asked, still stuck on the ballgame. “It’s just a game, right?”
It never occurred to Harry that he was giving away more information in one conversation than he had in the entire month that he’d been back. He answered straight away. “If the other bloke had won, he could have invoked an ancient rite and had my head chopped off,” he said matter-of-factly.
“What!” Hermione exclaimed, finding her voice once again. “Harry… why would he want to do that?”
“Well, he hated me. At least, at first,” Harry answered, thinking back. “It started out because the island girl he was in love with was supposed to be my wife, but it could have been because everyone there thinks I’m a god.”
Ron snorted. “Okay mate, you had me up till the god thing. Good one.” Even Hermione was looking doubtful at this point.
“No, I’m serious,” he told earnestly. “They thought I was the reincarnation of this Aztec god named Quetzalcoatl, and that Voldemort is the reincarnation of this other god named Tezcatlipoca.” He noticed they were still looking skeptical. “They think Stephen’s a god, too.”
Ron was laughing now, but Hermione was looking at him seriously. “I’ve read about that legend somewhere… I wish I could remember more about it.” She looked down at the puzzle box in her hand and her eyes lit up. “I wonder…”
“So what else are you hiding from us, Harry?” Ron asked. “You didn’t marry that girl did you? Because if you had gotten married, I’m pretty sure Ginny will kill you.”
“That’s why I never told her.” Harry said proudly. “I used my reward from winning the ballgame to give Masaya the right to choose her own husband. She chose Tlaloc, thank goodness, and Ginny never had to know.”
“Is there anything else you haven’t told us?” Hermione asked, sniffing disapprovingly on Ginny’s behalf.
Harry thought. “I’m sure there’re lots of things I haven’t told you.” His face lit up. “There’s the shape-shifting. Did I tell you about that?”
“You’re a shape-shifter?” Ron gasped. “No way!”
Harry shrugged. “On the island, I turned into a snake and then a bird. But I know I can manage more. Want to see?”
Hermione looked around at the dwindling common room. “Maybe later.”
“I didn’t know until today that’s what it was called, but Ginny and Stephen figure it out. Wicked, isn’t it? She’s such a smart girl, and so beautiful. Every time I look at her I just want to snog her senseless.” He sighed. His rational brain knew he was babbling now, but it felt so good to get this all off his chest. It was like a dam inside him had burst, sweeping away all of his inhibitions and forcing him to speak freely about everything he had held back from his friends. He just smiled dreamily at Ron’s protests until Hermione interrupted his fantasies with a dose of reality.
“Harry,” Hermione said looking at him carefully. “Did you drink anything earlier?”
“Sure,” he answered. “I had some tea with Ginny and Stephen. Why?”
“It’s just that you have given us a whole lot of information really quickly.” She paused. “It’s almost like you’re under the influence of Veritaserum.”
Harry’s face paled. “I have been talking a lot tonight, haven’t I?” Could he have been slipped truth serum? And if he had, why? His brain was starting to get fuzzy from thinking about it. “This isn’t good, is it?”
“No, it isn’t,” Hermione said. “But if you have been given a potion, it should wear off soon. Who else have you been talking to?”
Harry thought back. “Umm… after I left Ginny and Stephen, I came here. I ran into Dean briefly — the git was going through my things. We exchanged a few words, but nothing unusual… Then I talked to Macoa, and then I came down here.” His head was spinning now. “I think maybe I’ll lie down for a few minutes.”
“Probably a good idea,” Hermione said. Harry got up to leave but she stopped him. “I think you’d better stay here where we can keep an eye on you. Lie down by the fire for a bit, alright?”
Harry nodded and complied without so much as one complaint. A few minutes later, he was asleep.
***
The crackling fire awoke him some time later. He still felt really good, and it wasn’t long before he realized why. Ginny was curled up on the other end of the long sofa, her feet tangled up with his.
He smiled, still groggy with sleep as he crawled to the other end where she lay, looking like an angel. A quick glance around told him that it was late. They were the only ones left in the deserted common room and all the candles in the room had already been extinguished. The only light now came from the dancing fire in the fireplace directly in front of where they were lying. Harry felt as if he were in a warm cocoon of light and fire where everything was as it should be — just Ginny and him.
Underneath his weight, Ginny stirred. “I see you’re awake finally,” she said without opening her eyes.
“Yeah,” Harry said huskily. “Did you know that we’re alone?”
She smiled, still fighting to stay asleep. “I came in late and Ron and Hermione were watching over you. They said you weren’t feeling well, so I offered to Harry-mind while they went to bed.”
Harry frowned, remembering that Dean had gone out to find her. “Why were you out so late?”
Ginny opened her eyes. “I needed some time to myself, so after Professor Hunter left, I stayed in our room for awhile. I must have fallen asleep because when I woke up it was after eleven. The common room was deserted by the time I got in except for the three of you. Ron was worried, but Hermione calmed him down and sent him to bed. I told her to go on as well.”
“You didn’t run into Dean, then?”
“No,” she answered, and Harry could feel her slight annoyance.
Relief washed over him. “Good. I saw him earlier and he announced that he was going to find you. I’m glad he didn’t.”
“Harry,” she said, sitting up a bit. “Is this why you weren’t feeling well?”
“No, I don’t think so,” he answered. He sat up, too, troubled. “Earlier I was talking with Ron and Hermione and I was telling them all kinds of things I hadn’t meant to tell them… at least like that. It was strange… like I had been given a dose of Veritaserum. Everything that happened this summer just came pouring out of me. I couldn’t stop talking.”
“Do you think that someone might have slipped you something when you weren’t looking?” she asked, alarmed. Harry was grateful that she didn’t press him for details about what he had told the other two. Ginny never pressured him to give her more than he wanted to give; she just let him be himself — secrets and all.
Harry shook his head. “I don’t think so. I hadn’t had anything except for tea with you and Stephen, and I wasn’t acting funny before that. I talked to Dean before I talked to Ron and Hermione, and I was okay then.”
“Did you talk to anyone after that?” Ginny asked.
“Only Macoa,” Harry said. He reached into his pocket and pulled out the egg. “She gave me this to give to you,” he said, handing it to her.
Ginny examined it with interest. “What is it?” she asked, gasping. “It’s beautiful!”
“It’s her egg,” Harry answered. “…her heart. She wants you to keep it safe for her. If you keep it with you, it will attune itself to your magic and when it hatches it will be your protector.”
Ginny’s nose wrinkled and she tried to give it back to him. “I don’t know Harry… I don’t think I’m comfortable with having a snake as a companion.”
“Why not?” he asked, perplexed.
“I’m just not, that’s all,” she said angrily. “It creeps me out.”
“Ginny,” Harry said patiently. “You’re a Parselmouth, just like me. The sooner you accept that part of yourself, the better off you’ll be. I fought it too for a long time, but Macoa has shown me that having the gift isn’t a bad thing. It doesn’t automatically make you Dark.”
“I know, Harry,” Ginny said, still not convinced. “But I got the gift from Tom, and using it reminds me of all that. It reminds me that I am tainted… dirty.”
“Ginny!” Harry exclaimed, taken aback. “You’re not tainted or dirty. You’re good, and kind, and innocent. What happened to you back then wasn’t your fault.”
“But it still reminds me of everything that happened… everything I did,” she said, close to tears.
Harry took the egg from her and set it aside, taking her in his arms and holding her tightly. “No matter what, I love you for the person that you are… and that includes the ability to talk to snakes. It may be selfish of me, but I guess it makes me feel even closer to you — like I’m not the only one who’s been touched by Voldemort. I wish you never had to go through that but it connects us in a way that no one else can comprehend.” He held her chin tenderly and forced her to look at him, to see the love that he felt for her. “Don’t run away from the past, Ginny. A wise person once told me that you do the best you can with what you’re given. You were given this gift, Ginny, and it’d be a shame to not use it. My ability to talk to snakes helped me save you, remember?”
“I remember,” she whispered. “You said that you’d sooner quit playing Quidditch than spend time regretting that, as I recall.” Her lips curved in a smile. “Exactly what every young witch wants to hear from her new boyfriend.”
Harry laughed softly. “Sorry about that,” he said sheepishly.
“Actually,” she said, snuggling closer to him and making his heart beat erratically, “I found it rather endearing.”
He breathed in deeply and filled all his senses with her. If he lived to be a thousand, he didn’t think he’d ever get enough of her. As if sensing his change in mood, she closed the gap between them and brought her lips down hard to his, crushing her face to his in an almost desperate way. Slowly he sunk into her and soon their tongues were twisting in a satisfying dance that caused small moans to escape from the back of their throats.
Harry forgot everything in that instant — everything except how she felt underneath him, how his body reacted to her hand as it weaved under his shirt and touched bare skin, the silky feeling of her hair against his cheek. He trailed tiny kisses down her throat and on the side of her neck, loving how she moved her head to the side to allow him better access and wiggled seductively when he touched the right spots. For a long time they alternated between mouths and necks, each giving the other equal attention.
Gradually, Harry felt his very soul blend with hers as they claimed each other’s bodies. Nothing more serious was happening other than kissing and touching, but it felt so intense, the blending of souls, that it literally felt like an explosion inside his body. He felt like he was swimming in a sea of love that surrounded him from all directions and poured out of him from every cell in his body. Being with Ginny like this was more than he had ever dreamed of… more than he deserved. He didn’t think he could ever feel this complete, although something of his male brain knew that they had only just scratched the surface. Tempting as it was, if they didn’t stop now he wasn’t sure he’d be able to stop himself from going further soon.
Ginny seemed to realize this, too, and pulled away, breathing heavily. Her cheeks were flushed and her eyes bright. They leaned their foreheads together so that they were touching, looking deeply in each other’s eyes.
“I’ll never love anyone the way I love you,” she said with her heart, echoing his thoughts. Her voice was so clear in his head that it was as if she were speaking the words aloud although her lips weren’t moving at all. “I love you so much, it hurts. If anything ever happened to you-”
Harry stopped her with a kiss. “Don’t think about it,” he sent back fiercely. “If we stop to think about everything that could happen, we’d forget to live. I don’t want to spend my life worrying about things that might happen. I just want to enjoy every minute that I have with you.”
She nodded, and he knew that she understood what he was trying to say completely. For a long time after that they held each other and watched the flames of the fire dance in the hearth and reflect off Macoa’s egg, content to be in each other’s arms and trying to dispel the fear that this feeling couldn’t last. On some level, both of them sensed the darkness approaching; before long it would be upon them and when that happened, there were no guarantees.
Pronunciation guide
Ehecailacozcatl: e-e-kai-la-KOS-katl
Macoa: ma-CO-a
Masaya: ma-SA-ya
Mixtec: mix-TE-ca
Nahuatl: na-WAH-tl
Quetzal: ket-SAL
Quetzalcoatl: ket-sal-CO-atl
Tezcatlipoca: tez-ca-tli-PO-ca
Tlaloc: TLA-lock
Xolotl: She-o-LO-tl
Chapter 21: The Hearing
Disclaimer:The characters and situations of Harry Potter depicted in this story are the legal property of J.K. Rowling, Bloomsbury, and AOL Time Warner, and have been used without permission. No copyright infringement is intended.
No profit is being made off this story. It is for entertainment purposes only.
“The Hearing”
The day of the hearing turned out to be a warm autumn day. Harry would have rather spent his free afternoon down by the lake with Ron and Hermione or off flying with Ginny, but instead he was forced into his best school robes inside a stuffy room at the Ministry of Magic waiting for his attorney to finish up the details of executing Sirius’ will. Stephen sat on one side of him looking just as uncomfortable in his new, stylish dress robes, and Remus sat on his other side looking rather more scruffy than usual. His robes held more patches than they had the last time Harry had seen him and he looked like he hadn’t slept in a week. Thinking back, Harry realised that it had only been three nights since the last full moon, which could have easily accounted Remus’ tired demeanour.
“How much longer is this supposed to take?” Harry asked for the third time. The sooner he got out of here the better. His mind had not stopped dwelling on the last time he had come here. From the moment they had stepped inside the phone booth, Harry had continued to replay the events of Sirius’ death over and over, trying to make himself believe that if it wasn’t for him, they wouldn’t need to be here at all.
“How many more times are you going to ask us that?” Stephen retorted grumpily.
Remus sighed. “I had expected them to be done before now. I hope there’s not a problem.”
Just then the door swung open and Mr. Seymour Howe scurried out of the room looking a bit frazzled. “I apologize for the delay, but there seems to be a problem,” he said breathlessly.
“Why doesn’t that surprise me?” Harry muttered under his breath.
Mr. Howe either didn’t hear him or chose to ignore the comment. “The will was made prior to certain changes in the laws…” he began hesitantly. “I’m certain that if Mr. Black had been aware of the implications of this glitch, he would have taken measures to correct the error. As it is… we seem to have a major problem on our hands.”
“What kind of problem, exactly?” Harry asked.
“Mr. Black left explicit instructions in his will that in the event that you, Mr. Potter, should be in his custody at the time of his death — everything should go to you,” Mr. Howe explained. “However, given that you are a minor, there is the issue of custody…” His eyes roamed to Remus, who nodded.
“And since Decree 137 for the Restriction of Dangerous Creatures states that no werewolf may retain custody of a minor child…” Remus surmised. “…I’m not eligible for guardianship any longer.”
“That is correct,” Mr. Howe stated.
The news made Harry’s blood boil. “That’s not fair!” he exclaimed. “Remus is a good person… better than most of the idiots who made that stupid law.”
“Whether I agree or not isn’t an issue, Mr. Potter,” the attorney stated flatly. “The fact is that a new guardian must be appointed before the matter of the inheritance can be settled.”
“How long will that take?” Stephen asked.
“Well, first a suitable substitute must be located and approved. If a relative of Mr. Black’s was willing to stand in for Sirius, it would make the process that much easier…”
Harry’s mind whirled. “What about Mr. Weasley?”
The attorney looked startled. “Arthur Weasley, from the Department for the Misuse of Muggle Artefacts?”
Harry nodded. “Yes, he was a distant cousin, according to Sirius. Nymphadora Tonks is also related.”
“Would either of them be willing to assume custody?” Mr. Howe asked hopefully.
Remus nodded. “I think it’s safe to say that the Weasleys already consider Harry a member of the family. I also have it on good authority that Miss Tonks is quite fond of young Harry, as well.”
The attorney pulled out a notepad and made some notes. “I’ll get right on this. Both of them work here in the building, and if I can find one of them and get them to agree, I think we can make some arrangements. Perhaps we can get this settled today after all.” He glanced at his watch. “Why don’t the three of you go get some lunch? Perhaps by the time you return I will have the necessary papers ready to sign, and we can wrap this matter up. I’m going to go track down Mr. Weasley.”
Harry watched Mr. Howe scuttle down the hall, barely catching the elevator as its doors prepared to slide closed.
“Now what?” Harry asked miserably.
“Let’s Floo to Diagon Alley for some lunch at the Leaky Cauldron,” Stephen suggested. “Maybe we can stop by Madame Mulkin’s and order you some new school robes while we’re out.”
Harry looked down at his robes. He hadn’t had the chance to purchase new ones yet and, even though these were the best he owned, they did look rather bad. Not Dudley’s-old-hand-me-downs bad — but bad never-the-less.
“Can we stop by Quality Quidditch Supplies while we’re out?” he asked hopefully.
Stephen grinned. “Absolutely.”
They moved towards the elevator, but Remus hung back. “Maybe I should just stay here,” he suggested.
Harry fixed him with a suspicious stare. “Why?”
“It’s just that people talk, Harry,” Remus explained. “I’m not the best person to be seen with these days…”
The anger returned at his words. Remus’ life was already difficult enough with the transformations. Why did the Ministry insist on making life miserable for people with lycanthropy? It wasn’t like they were dangerous beasts or anything — at least most of the time.
“You’re going,” he said flatly. “I don’t give a rat’s arse who sees us together. In fact, I hope they do. As far as I’m concerned, you are the one who Sirius picked to be my guardian and this shouldn’t even be an issue. If it wasn’t for certain people’s narrow-minded views, you would be in charge of me now.” He grinned suddenly. “Come to think of it, maybe you’re better off.”
“How do you figure that?” Remus asked, giving in and walking with them to the elevator.
“This way you don’t have to deal with the Dursleys.”
Two hours later the three returned to the Ministry to find Arthur Weasley waiting anxiously for their return.
“Harry,” he said warmly, shaking his hand. “It’s so nice to see you again. How was your summer?”
“Fine, thanks,” Harry replied with a smile. “Actually, I’ve never felt better.”
“Good, good,” Mr. Weasley said sounding slightly distracted. “And how are Ron and Ginny? Are they managing to stay ahead of their studies this term?”
“I think so, with Hermione’s help, of course. I’m sure Ginny informed you that she made the Quidditch team,” Harry said, beginning to notice Mr. Weasley’s odd attempt at small talk.
“Quite right she did,” Mr. Weasley replied, nervously looking around. “And congratulations on making Quidditch Captain. Molly and I are so proud-”
“Mr. Weasley, what’s going on?” Harry interrupted.
“Going on?” Arthur said, scratching his head. He pulled Harry aside as he was talking and pressed a note into his hand. “I don’t think… well, there is that business with the exploding salt shakers, but nothing for you to worry about, son. We’ll soon get it sorted.” He nodded for Harry to look down at his hand, which Harry did.
On the paper Mr. Weasley had handed him were the words BE CAREFUL, YOU’RE BEING WATCHED written in very neat, legible handwriting. Harry crumpled up the note carefully and slipped it in his pocket.
“Well, if you’re sure I can’t be of help…” he said, letting his voice trail off. Playing along with his casual conversation, Harry asked, “So, how is the joke shop going?”
“Fine, fine…” Mr. Weasley said. “Just yesterday Fred and George-”
“Why Mr. Potter!” a simpering voice said from behind. “It’s so good to see you again!”
Harry didn’t even have to turn around to know who the voice belonged to; he’d recognize Dolores Umbridge anywhere.
“What are you doing here?” he said, not bothering to hide his disgust.
“I had hoped I’d at least taught you some manners, Mr. Potter, but I see that was too much to hope for, in your case. I’m here as a Ministry representative,” she explained with a false smile. “Didn’t your attorney tell you?”
Mr. Howe appeared at Harry’s side just then, completely out of breath. “I… haven’t… had… time… to… confer… with… my… client… yet,” he puffed.
She gave him a hard glare. “You have five minutes, no more. If you aren’t in the courtroom at precisely one o’clock, we will be starting without you.” Turning on her heel, she waddled into the room where the hearing was set to take place.
Harry watched her go. “Why do I have the feeling I’m going to be tried in front of the entire Wizengamot again?” he asked Mr. Weasley dryly.
“We have a big problem,” Arthur said worriedly.
“Arthur, what’s going on?” Remus asked worriedly as he and Stephen approached the group.
“It’s Scrimgeour,” he answered, looking anxiously at the still huffing attorney. “I say, Howe… are you going to be alright?”
The out-of-shape solicitor waved his hand dismissively, encouraging them to continue.
“The new Minister of Magic?” Stephen asked, getting back to the matter at hand. “What’s he got to do with Harry’s case?”
“There’s no easy way to say this Harry…” Arthur said, giving him a sad, worried look. “The new Minister seems to think that you are the answer to his problems.”
“Me? What problems? I don’t understand.”
Arthur lowered his voice even more. “Scrimgeour has this mad idea that you are The Chosen One — the only hope of getting rid of You-Know-Who for good. He wants to try to take custody of you and use you as a sort of publicity tool… a weapon of sorts to dispute the claim that the Ministry is doing nothing about their current problems.”
“This is about Voldemort?” Harry asked loudly, earning him several equally loud shushes from the adults.
“Since you are without a legal guardian in the Wizarding World, they are going to try to make you a ward of the Ministry, Mr. Potter,” Mr. Howe said, having finally caught his breath. “I have just Flooed my associate, Ms. Dewey, and she is on her way. Ida has had much more experience with custody cases and knows the laws better than anyone. I’ve also sent an express owl to your aunt, who technically still retains custody of you in the Muggle world. As soon as she signs the papers agreeing to let Mr. Weasley act as your legal guardian on all affairs in the magical world, then the Ministry should have no grounds to retain you.”
“She’ll never sign anything on my behalf,” Harry said, now truly alarmed. “She hates me. What happens if she won’t sign? Can they keep me here against my will?”
“I’m sure it won’t come to that,” Howe said evasively.
“Has anyone contacted Albus Dumbledore yet?” Stephen asked the attorney.
“I sent an owl not more than ten minutes ago,” Howe told him.
“This was supposed to be a simple will reading,” Stephen raged, “not a custody hearing. Why is the Ministry doing this to Harry?”
“Nothing surprises me when it comes to them, Stephen,” Harry said grimly. “If Umbridge is overseeing my case, then I’m sunk.”
“Not so fast, Mr. Potter,” an unfamiliar feminine voice said as she rounded the corner. She strode down the hall with a purpose in her step, confidence radiating from her like a beacon. The woman stopped in front of Harry and raised her hand for him to shake, which he did. “Ida Dewey,” she said by way of introduction. “Don’t worry, Mr. Potter, I’m going to fix this mess.”
“Ida!” Mr. Howe said in relief. “I’m so happy you could make it on such short notice.”
“Mr. Potter is a very important client, is he not?” Ida said, raising an eyebrow shrewdly. “Where else would I be?”
Howe looked at his pocket watch. “Time’s up,” he announced. “We need to proceed into the court room.”
Harry noticed Remus whisper something in Mr. Howe’s ear. The solicitor nodded, and Remus hurried off in the other direction.
“Where’s he going,” Harry asked with a frown. “He’s not coming in with me?”
“He thought it best, considering Ms. Umbridge’s views on his kind…” Howe explained. “Besides, he may do us more good on the outside.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?” Harry asked as he took his seat around the large conference table. He was glad to find the room small and informal, a great improvement over the last time he’d been in court.
Harry never got an answer. “I now call this session to order,” a matronly old witch stated in a stern voice. “I am Judge Matilda Goodall of the 6th Circuit Court overseeing the case of Harry James Potter on the matter of custody. Are all parties present?”
“We are, Madame Goodall,” Ms. Dewey said in a respectful but professional voice. “I will be taking the lead on this portion of Mr. Potter’s case.”
“Very well, Ms. Dewey,” the judge said. “You may proceed.”
“As I am not up to speed on the particulars of this case yet — our side having been ambushed by certain members of the Ministry — I move to adjourn until such time as I can gather all the facts.”
The judge shook her head. “Motion denied. Nice try, Ms. Dewey, but the facts in this case are quite simple. With the death of Sirius Black, Mr. Potter is without a legal guardian. It has been unfortunate that this case was not caught sooner. With Mr. Black in custody all these years, it was not a well-known fact that he was in actuality Mr. Potter’s legal guardian. Albus Dumbledore illegally placed Mr. Potter with Mrs. Dursley after his parents were killed. Since that time said aunt, a Muggle, has raised him. As I understand it, she wants no contact with the Wizarding World.
“Since Mr. Potter was born into the magical community, it is most irregular that he be taken from it at such an early age… and there are no supporting papers to back up the decision of placing him in the custody of his aunt. In these types of cases, the parties in question decide on an appropriate person to bridge the gap between our world and theirs… to keep the child involved in both cultures so that when the letter comes inviting them to attend Hogwarts, the transition is not so harsh and unexpected. At the very least, someone is appointed to check in with the family periodically to insure that he or she is being taken care of properly. According to our records, Mr. Potter has been without a legal guardian in the magical community for fifteen years. I’m not sure how this major technicality escaped our knowledge, but we are here to resolve it.”
Dolores Umbridge chose this moment to interject. “It is the position of the Minister of Magic that Mr. Potter be made a ward of the Ministry. As a well-known public figure under an obvious threat, we feel that he would be safest at this time under our protection.”
“That’s a lie!” Harry exclaimed angrily. “You only want to use me as a publicity stunt to make it seem like you’re doing something to stop Voldemort!”
Harry exclamation caused immediate chaos. Amid the gasps and chatter, Umbridge’s venomous protests and the judge’s gavel, Harry sat stunned, the judge’s words still ringing in his ears. He had lived like dung under the Dursley’s shoes for all those years when he didn’t have to. Someone could have been checking in with him, making sure that the Dursleys at least treated him decently. He could have known about the magical world all that time…
“Mr. Potter,” Judge Goodall said sternly when she finally had control of the courtroom again. “One more outburst like that, and I will ban you from this hearing. And in the future, please refrain from saying that name out loud.”
Harry looked at her calmly. “It’s just a name, you know. Being afraid to say the name won’t make him go away. It only gives him more power.”
For the first time the judge seemed uncomfortable. “Even if that were true, saying the name causes panic. I have warned you.”
Harry shrugged. “What do you want me to call him then? Personally, I like The Dark Tosser best, but-”
The judge’s gavel almost drowned out Mr. Weasley’s groan and Stephen’s warning, “Harry… that’s enough.”
“I apologize for my client,” Ms. Dewey told the judge. “Coupled with the loss of his Godfather and the stress of these proceedings, I’m sure he isn’t acting himself.”
“I disagree,” Umbridge chimed in. “I taught the boy for a year and he seems to be acting exactly like himself.”
Harry held up his hand defiantly in a fist, exposing the faint but readable scar still imbedded in the back of his hand. “I learned my lesson well, thanks to you. But even detention with you and your blood quill never stop me from telling the truth.” He turned his eyes back to the judge. “I apologize in advance for saying the name, but if the Ministry had listened to me a year ago when Voldemort first came back instead of trying to silence me with toads such as her, then maybe we wouldn’t be in the mess that we’re in now.”
“You speak rather boldly for a minor, Mr. Potter,” the judge said with a hint of disapproval in her voice.
“I may be underage,” Harry told her, “but I am no child.”
The judge glanced down at her papers. “I see that you are a very passionate young man. I’m reviewing your school records… it seems that you’ve been in a fair spot of trouble during your time at Hogwarts. Detention on numerous occasions, sneaking out, leaving school grounds without permission, numerous trips to the hospital wing for Quidditch related and suspicious reasons…”
“Much of that ‘fair spot of trouble’ can be traced back to Tom Riddle and his followers,” Harry commented mildly.
“Tom Riddle?” the judge asked curiously.
“I’m sorry…” Harry answered respectfully. “You asked me not use his other name, so I thought I’d use his real one instead.”
The judge flushed. Harry couldn’t tell if she was embarrassed or angry, but he hoped he had not offended her.
“Let’s get back to your case, shall we?” she said briskly. “It says here that Rubeus Hagrid was sent to give you your Hogwarts letter and to escort you to buy your school things. Can you explain why the groundskeeper at Hogwarts was charged with this duty?”
“The Dursleys weren’t giving me my letters. Besides, Hagrid is my friend,” Harry said defensively. “He was the person who told me that I was a wizard and not a freak, and he told me the truth about my mum and dad.”
“What do you mean ‘told you the truth’?” the judge asked.
“My aunt and uncle hate magic, and they hate me. They always resented that they got stuck with me and they told me my whole life that I was the son of a drunkard — that my parents had died in a car crash. They think witches and wizards are freaks. I wasn’t very welcome in their house growing up, and they were glad to be rid of me. Even now, they only put up with me during the summer holiday because they have to.”
“And you’ve spent every summer at their home since attending Hogwarts?” the judge asked.
“Only half the summer — usually I spend the rest with the Weasleys. Ron Weasley is my best mate, and his family has been very good to me.”
“We have come to see Harry as another son,” Mr. Weasley added. “He is always welcome in our home, and my wife, Molly, worries about him more than if he were her own.”
Harry smiled at the compliment. Mrs. Weasley tended to be over-protective, but she meant well. He remembered the conversation she had with Sirius when she had likened Harry to one of her children.
“Ms. Dewey…” the judge admonished. “You are unusually quiet. Don’t you have anything to say about the matter?”
“Mr. Potter seems quite mature and is stating his case much more eloquently than I, Your Honour,” she said with a satisfied smile. “Given that he is so close to coming of age, I move that he be declared an emancipated adult in the eyes of the court and the law. Don’t you agree?”
“I’m not certain that would be the best, in this case,” the judge said, shaking her head. “I’m not convinced he is mature enough to handle the responsibility that comes with managing both the Potter estate and the Black Family fortune. He will need guidance on these matters. He still has almost two years of education to complete, and that should be his focus.”
“The Potter account has been handled for years by Mr. Potter’s accountants at Gringotts, as has the Black estate,” Mr. Howe pointed out. “Sirius Black was a prisoner in Azkaban for thirteen years and had no real say in how his family’s money was handled. I don’t think two years is going to make much of a difference, in this case.”
“The Ministry contends that Mr. Potter is a danger to himself and others,” Umbridge insisted. She pulled out a file. “I have sworn statements from professionals who have examined his past erratic behaviour. We are concerned that he is an imbalanced individual and a ticking time bomb. He needs to be admitted to St. Mungo’s immediately for observation-”
“Harry is not imbalanced!” Stephen roared, losing his temper at last.
“And who are you, exactly?” Umbridge asked coldly.
“My name’s Stephen Hunter,” he said coldly. “I am Harry’s teacher at Hogwarts. This past summer I’ve gotten to know Harry through our tutoring sessions. He was behind in his education, thanks to the mess you made of our Defence program last year, Ms. Umbridge. During our time together, Harry has proved to be a very strong minded individual with the most integrity I have ever seen in an individual, next to his father. He is no more unstable than I am.”
“Stephen Hunter…” Umbridge mused. “Aren’t you supposed to be dead?” She laughed sweetly. “No… I’m sorry. That’s your wife and son, isn’t it?”
Stephen levelled her with an icy glare. “I’d be very careful, if I were you, Ms. Umbridge… Comments like that could make me lose my temper.” His voice was low and threatening.
Umbridge shrieked to the judge, “Did you hear him threaten me?”
“Just a simple warning…” Stephen said mildly. “As an ex-Auror, I would know better than to outright threaten you.”
“That’s quite enough, Mr. Hunter,” the judge commanded. “Your comments on Mr. Potter’s mental status are noted. Mr. Weasley, you have known Mr. Potter for a number of years. Could you enlighten me on his home situation and shed any light on the claims of the Ministry?”
“My wife and I first met Harry the summer between his first and second years at Hogwarts. By then, he’d become quite close with our sons, Ron, Fred and George. They became very concerned about him when Harry stopped responding to their letters that summer. We found out later that his aunt and uncle had locked him in his room after an unfortunate incident concerning accidental magic that was not Harry’s fault. His uncle even went so far as to install bars on his windows.”
“I see a letter of reprimand from the Improper Use of Magic Office from that summer…” the judge said, flipping through his file.
“That wasn’t me, ma’am… that was Dobby,” Harry said, trying not to groan. How long was that incident going to follow him around?
“Dobby?” the judge said, staring at him from behind her reading glasses. “Who is Dobby?”
“Dobby is a house-elf,” Harry began. “He was the one who cast the levitation charm in the first place.”
“I don’t see a record of a house-elf at your residence…”
“No, Dobby isn’t my house-elf. He was the Malfoy’s house-elf… he was only there to warn me about what Lucius Malfoy was about to do.”
“About what Mr. Malfoy was about to…” she repeated, dumbfounded. “I don’t think I understand.”
“I tried to tell you he was unbalanced,” Umbridge muttered.
“You see, Mr. Malfoy managed to slip Ginny Weasley a diary when she was buying her schoolbooks. That diary was more than a simple book… it once belonged to Tom Riddle who later became… well, that name I’m not supposed to say. Through the diary, Tom used Ginny to open the Chamber of Secrets that year and Tom — the younger Tom Riddle — tried to kill her and me. I’m sure you heard of the attacks…”
“I do remember something about… but I hadn’t heard this version…” the judge said, still sounding confused.
“Well, anyway… I followed Ginny and Tom into the Chamber of Secrets and managed to kill the basilisk that was petrifying the Muggleborn students, including my friend Hermione Granger...” Realising that he had just unloaded way too much information, Harry’s voice trailed off. “Anyway, it was Dobby who did the magic, not me.”
“And I suppose you can prove this story?” the judge asked with a doubtful voice and a raised eyebrow.
Harry nodded. “If you like, I can call Dobby. He works at Hogwarts now, ma’am.”
“I can testify that Harry is telling the truth,” Mr. Weasley added. “It was my daughter, Ginny, whom Harry saved. If it wasn’t for his bravery and quick-thinking, she wouldn’t be alive today.”
“Very well… I will take this story into account as I make my final decision,” she said. Harry didn’t know if that was good or bad.
“Your Honour,” Ms. Dewey said, “is it really necessary to dissect every little incident in Mr. Potter’s school records? I fail to see the relevance this has on today’s matter…”
“I am attempting to make a decision about Mr. Potter’s future based on the information I have before me, Ms. Dewey,” the judge said. “The Ministry of Magic is making a serious charge against Mr. Potter, and I am trying to determine the validity of that charge. Now if you will allow me to continue…”
“Of course, Your Honour,” Ms. Dewey said respectfully. “I apologize.”
“I see here several notations by Professor Snape concerning your rule-breaking behaviour and the Headmaster’s tendency to overlook it,” she commented.
“With all due respect, Your Honour, but Professor Snape hated my father and has never treated me fairly from the moment I stepped into his classroom,” Harry explained. “We have never liked each other much. He hates Gryffindors in general… and me in part
“Lucky for you, I have several nieces and nephews who can attest to Professor Snape’s tendency to favour the Slytherins,” she said, nodding.
“Severus and James were in the same year at Hogwarts,” Stephen explained. “It was well known that they loathed each other.”
“Hmmm…” She turned another page in the file. “I see your notes in here as well, Dolores. However, many of them have been modified.”
“What!” Umbridge exclaimed. “I-I don’t understand…”
“Deputy Headmistress McGonagall has made notes next to yours in favour of Mr. Potter’s version of the story. A lifetime ban on Quidditch...” she tutted. “…And for such a small offence. It does seem rather harsh to me. I’ve already seen evidence of the blood quill…” She fixed her eyes on Umbridge. “It also says here that you attempted to use an Unforgivable on Mr. Potter at the end of your term as Defence Instructor, and that you admitted to sending a Dementor after him. Would you care to explain that?”
“Well I-I didn’t… I wasn’t really…” Umbridge stuttered.
“I think I’ve heard enough,” the judge declared, closing the file. She looked at Harry critically. “I’m no slouch, Mr. Potter… I follow the news and I’m smart enough to read between the lines. I do not think you are crazy or imbalanced, but I also do not think that you are ready to take on an inheritance such as the Black Family fortune at this time in your life… You have too many things working against you right now to worry about financial matters. Therefore, I am prepared to grant your attorney’s request to make you an emancipated adult in the eyes of the Ministry, provided that certain conditions are met.”
They all ignored Umbridge’s cries of protest. “Just tell me what I have to do,” Harry said, grinning.
“If Mr. Weasley agrees to act as a liaison between you and your accountants, I would feel more comfortable giving you this freedom. When you graduate from Hogwarts, you will have free reign over your money, but for now a trust will be set up that should be more than adequate to cover your expenses. Any additional money you should need will be approved by Mr. Weasley, and in exchange for his services he will be paid a modest fee. Is that acceptable to you?”
Harry nodded. “More than acceptable. As far as I’m concerned, he can have the money. I could never repay the Weasleys for everything they’ve given me over the years.”
The judge gave him an amused but stern look. “It is precisely that attitude which I hope to save you from. Money isn’t everything, Mr. Potter, but if used wisely, it can do great things. You may also find it comes in very handy when you decide to settle down with that special someone…”
Harry blushed as he thought of Ginny and making a life with her. “I hope I live long enough to see that happen,” he said to no one in particular.
“I hope so, too, Mr. Potter,” the judge said. “In fact, I’m counting on it. Please try not to let me down.”
Harry nodded mutely. He hoped he wouldn’t let her down either.
The meeting adjourned soon after all the papers were signed. Mr. Weasley hurried off to check on the progress of his salt shaker case, promising to get in touch with him later after he’d had time to check into his financial matters more thoroughly, and Umbridge made a quick disappearing act, most likely to inform her boss that things hadn’t gone as planned. Harry knew that sooner or later he’d have to face the Ministry again, and was thankful that day wasn’t today.
As he and Stephen left the courtroom, he was greeted by a very anxious Remus Lupin. “I saw Arthur just a few minutes ago and he gave me the good news. Congratulations, Harry.”
Harry frowned. “Where did you go?”
“I thought it best that I not endanger your case, given Dolores Umbridge’s feelings concerning my kind,” he said, sounding too resigned to the fact that he wasn’t accepted by the majority of the Wizarding World for Harry’s liking. “After that I went to your aunt and uncle’s house. I had hoped to convince them to sign the papers, but when I arrived your uncle was in a rage. It seemed the owl had delivered the papers in the middle of his dinner and he was not happy about the sudden intrusion. This owl was very insistent and pecked his hand when he tried to shoo it away. He threatened to shoot the next bird that flew through his window, and invited me to leave. I saw him burning the papers as I left.”
“Good thing I wasn’t counting on them, then,” Harry said dryly. “I imagine Uncle Vernon was in quite a state.”
“Yes, he was,” Remus said, seeming to find it hard to hide his smile. “Poor man looked like he was about to have a stroke. I’ve never seen a human being turn so many shades of red all at once.”
“My favourite colour is when he gets all purple,” Harry said. “He usually finds it difficult to speak when he turns that shade.”
“Where is Albus?” Stephen asked. “Have you heard from him? I thought for sure he would be here.”
“I tried reaching him but Minerva said he was gone. He didn’t leave any instructions to get in touch with him and no one knows where he went or how long he’ll be gone.” Remus’ eyes belied his worried emotions.
“Is this usual behaviour?” Stephen asked.
Remus shrugged. “He has disappeared on occasion lately, but he never gives an explanation — only that he’s been on important Order business. It has something to do with our current situation, I’m sure.”
Harry exchanged a look with Stephen, sure that his teacher was thinking the same thing. He, for one, desperately wanted to know what the Headmaster was up to and if it had anything to do with finding a way to defeat Voldemort.
“I’m sure he’ll be back before you know it…” Remus said mildly, although Harry knew he had not missed the look between Stephen and himself. “He’s usually never gone longer than a few hours… possibly a day or two at the most.”
Stephen checked his watch. “Let’s head up to the Office of Magical Transportation before we head out. I think there’s just enough time.”
“Time for what?” Harry asked, dragging his mind away from Dumbledore and his mysterious disappearing act.
“Time to take your Apparition Test,” Stephen told him with a twinkle in his eye.
“But I’m not seventeen yet,” Harry said.
“But you are an adult now, Quetzal, in the eyes of the law. It’s one of the perks of emancipation.”
“You’re joking!” He hadn’t had time to consider the implications of being viewed as an adult apart from avoiding being chucked into St. Mungo’s.
“Harry doesn’t know how to Apparate,” Remus said.
“Oh yes he does,” Stephen insisted. “I taught him myself as part of his training. He was blind as a bat at the time, but managed to get around just fine with the help of his little snake friend. He made good use of the skill when he fought the island’s best warrior.” He winked at Harry.
“Blind Apparition?” Remus questioned, scratching his head in confusion. “Snake friend… and fighting? What else have you neglected to tell us about your summer, Harry?” He looked at Harry for an explanation as they walked towards the lift.
Harry sighed. “You wouldn’t believe me if I told you.”
The Apparition Test didn’t take long. After completing the preliminary paperwork and paying the fee, Harry was ushered into a tiny room with a pedestal on it.
“Step inside the square,” a bored voice said from behind a tiny desk. “In order to pass your test and get your licence you will need to Apparate to the location I show you. Once there, you will be checked for possible Splinching and if everything is present, you will be given the green flag. Upon your return, you will again be checked for Splinching. If you passed, you will be given a stamped certificate. You will then proceed to the next area to have your wand modified to reflect the date of your initial Apparition Licence. Is that understood?”
Harry nodded.
The man held up a picture. “Here is your destination. You have three minutes to Apparate. One… two… three!”
Harry concentrated and felt the familiar squeezing sensation that he had come to associate with Apparition. When he opened his eyes he was next to a dilapidated old building on what looked to be Northern Wales. An old man was standing guard outside the building, wand in hand. He ran the wand up and down over Harry’s body, much like Madame Pomfrey did when she was checking for injuries.
He grinned a toothy grin — except he was missing a few teeth, Harry noticed. “You passed the first leg of the exam, sonny,” he told him in a wheezy voice. He opened the door to the building, which was more like a shed. When he returned, he had a large green flag in his hand.
The man shoved the flag in Harry’s hand. “Take this back to Phil.”
“Phil?” Harry asked, taking the flag hesitantly. He was having a hard time holding the gigantic thing and managing his wand, too. Stephen had drilled it into his head to always have his wand out and at the ready whenever he Apparated, regardless of the situation, even though it wasn’t technically necessary for Apparition. Trying to manage the flag and the wand was proving to be difficult; the man had said he’d get the green flag, but Harry hadn’t thought it’d be quite so literal… or so large.
“Back to the Apparition Exam Room where you came from, sonny… Now get going before I change that green flag to a red one.”
Harry closed his eyes and concentrated, relieved to be feeling the squeezing that he now associated with Apparition. When he open is eyes again, he was back in the exam room holding the big flag.
Phil ran his wand over his body once again. “You passed kid.” He waddled to the desk and stamped a card which he attempted to hand to Harry, who still had his wand in one hand and the flag in the other. After an awkward struggle, Phil ended up taking the flag from him and passing him the card with a dissatisfied grunt. “Congratulations,” he said, sounding as if he said it all they time without meaning it. “You may now proceed to window seven to finalize your licence.”
“Thanks,” Harry said, slipping gratefully from the room.
The woman at the window took his card. “Give me your wand,” she instructed. Reluctantly, Harry handed it over to her. “Name?” she asked in a bored voice.
“Harry… Harry Potter.”
She did a double-take at his name. “You don’t say? I didn’t expect to see you till next summer.” Her eyes narrowed. “Let me see your papers.”
Harry handed her his papers along with the court order granting him emancipation. “Interesting…” she commented, making Harry wonder how long it would be before the details of his new independence ended up on the cover of the Daily Prophet. She shoved the papers back at him. “This won’t take a minute, Mr. Potter, and then you are free to go.”
She did a complicated little charm over his wand and then handed it back to him. “There you go… you’re all set.”
Harry took his wand back and examined it. “What did you just do?”
“I recorded the date of your initial licence in the memory of your wand, of course,” she answered with a tinge of impatience. “Now off you go. I don’t have time to sit here an lollygag all day!”
Harry looked around. He was the only one waiting in line. In fact, he was the only one in the office. Seizing his opportunity, he went to find Stephen and Remus who were waiting for him in the hall.
“Well?” Stephen asked.
“I got the green flag,” Harry chuckled. “I passed, first go.”
Stephen laughed. “I knew you would, kid. Let’s go celebrate.”
“Don’t we have to get back to Hogwarts?” Harry asked.
Stephen shook his head. “It’s tradition… when a young wizard passes his Apparition exam he is treated to his first pint by Madame Rosmerta.”
“But I’ve already had my first pint…” Harry said. “Gryffindors throw some great parties… especially after winning Quidditch championships and battling dragons.”
“Then your first shot of Firewhiskey.”
Harry shook his head. “Fred and George took care of that this summer.”
Stephen shrugged. “I’m sure we’ll find something.”
Remus laughed. “I’d better be going,” he said reluctantly.
Harry jerked his head in his direction, disappointed. They were in the lift now headed to the lobby and the Apparition point. “You’re not coming?”
Remus shook his head. “Not this time. I don’t think it’s a good idea for you to be seen with me, Harry.”
“Why not?”
Remus smiled sadly. “I’m not exactly a welcome patron of most establishments these days, thanks to the Ministry.”
“Sod the Ministry, Remus!” Harry exclaimed angrily. “I want you to come. I don’t think Madame Rosmerta will refuse to serve you.”
He looked hopeful for a minute. “Maybe…”
“At least try, Remus,” Harry pleaded. “For me?”
They were almost to the Apparition point now. “Alright,” he agreed. “The Three Broomsticks it is,” he sighed, drawing out his wand.
They were so involved in their conversation that none of them noticed a shadowy figure following them. The man grinned to himself thinking how the Dark Lord would reward him for capturing the elusive Harry Potter, at last. Soon he would be honoured above all his followers for finally giving him the one thing he wanted most — Harry Potter.
[A/N: I’m sending my thanks to all the people out there taking the time to encourage me by writing such thoughtful reviews. They really keep me going! I am doing my best to stay motivated and keep the momentum going so that I can finish this. The plan is still to publish once a week. Right now I am working on Chapter 23, so I have some leeway there but not much. Thanks to Arnel, Melindaleo, and mbwun5 for all your advice. And a big thanks you to everyone who voted for me for the Silver Trinket Award here at SIYE. I was honored to just get nominated. Congratulations to all the winners, expecially Melindaleo. I'm pre-beta reading for her and I have to say... you ain't seen nothin' yet! The story rocks, from chapter one all the way to chapter 21 (where I am in it so far... Melinda belives in having a good lead). Congrats, Melinda!
Next week’s chapter is a big one and will turn this story on its ear. It is so controversial that my good friend, Melindaleo, and I had a huge disagreement about the content. We have finally agreed to disagree (friendships are more important than fanfiction, you know), but I am very interested to see your reactions, so please… review away. What do YOU think will happen? Any ideas…? The chapter title is called “Ambush” and it is coming on Friday of next week.
FYI… The content of this chapter is not frivolous. It has some bearing on the next chapter — and the rest of the story, for that matter — because it sets things in motion that signal a downward spiral for Harry and the Wizarding World. Every scene relates in some way to the plot even though it may not be apparent at this time. (That goes out to certain critics who think that the plot has become nonexistent… Trust me, it’ll all come together in the end, and I have some surprises in store for you.)
I do have to say thank you to those out there who have encouraged me to continue on with my AU story and not focus on incorporating HBP canon in this story. You were right, and I think you will find that future chapters will show that I’ve listened. That’s not to say that the scenes I’ve written so far were unimportant. I think you’ll find that every scene further the plot in some way when it’s all said and done. From now on I may include a character here and there or some tidbits from new canon, but I’m trying to make them my own as they relate to my story and not worry about new canon.
Well… what are you waiting for? Go on and review! : )
Chapter 22: Ambush
Disclaimer:The characters and situations of Harry Potter depicted in this story are the legal property of J.K. Rowling, Bloomsbury, and AOL Time Warner, and have been used without permission. No copyright infringement is intended.
No profit is being made off this story. It is for entertainment purposes only.
“Ambush”
Stephen, Remus, and Harry Apparated in front of the Three Broomsticks, wands at the ready. Thankfully, there was no one about. Harry breathed a sigh of relief as he stowed his wand in his pocket. He had a very uneasy feeling for some reason, although he couldn’t put his finger on what it was that was making him feel so nervous. The minor glitch at the hearing had worked out to his favour and now he could legally Apparate… he should be feeling on top of the world, but he wasn’t.
“What are we waiting for?” Stephen commented, looking at Harry strangely. “Let’s go in.”
“I still think-” Remus began uncertainly, but Harry cut him off.
“If you don’t go in, then I don’t go in… end of story,” he said stubbornly. “Please, Remus?”
Remus caved under his pleading look. “Alright,” he said reluctantly. “But not for long. Any trouble from the patrons, and I’m out of there, got it?” He fixed Harry with a hard stare. “You too, Harry. You’re a wanted man, and I don’t want to see anything happen to you. The safest place for you is inside the walls of Hogwarts.”
“We won’t stay long,” Stephen promised. “And besides… Harry can take care of himself.”
Stephen’s unexpected praise made Harry stand a bit taller. No one had ever had much confidence in his ability to handle himself in a fight. Most of the adults in his life only wanted to protect him and have him hide himself away; Stephen, on the other hand, thought he could handle just about anything. That meant more to him than ten compliments from almost anyone else.
The Three Broomsticks was not very crowded, but it was still early. A few patrons were sitting at the bar, and a few sat at the tables eating dinner. Harry was used to seeing the establishment brimming with Hogwarts students. It was strange to see it so quiet.
They made their way to a secluded booth near the back of the room where they could see the comings and goings of the customers. It happened to be near a back exit which made for an easy getaway, should that be necessary. Rosmerta spied them at once and sidled up to the table.
“What’ll it be, gentlemen?” she asked in a pleasant, welcoming voice.
“Three mulled meads,” Stephen answered immediately. “You’re finest brew.”
Rosmerta looked at Harry critically. “I may be getting old, but I’m not senile… You’re not of age yet.”
Remus laughed. “Still the same Rosmerta… nothing gets by you, does it?”
“You should know, Remus Lupin,” she retorted cheekily. “You and your friends tried every trick in the book in your day, didn’ ya?”
Stephen clapped Harry on the back. “Our young friend here just got emancipated. As of today, he is legally an adult. Even passed his Apparition Test and everything. We’re here to celebrate.”
Rosmerta raised an impressed eyebrow. “Well, that changes things, don’t it?” She tossed her hair in a flirtatious manner (which made her chest stick out even more prominently) and looked back at the barkeep with a seductive smile. “Three of our best mead — on the house, Joe.”
The young man blushed a rosy shade of pink as set about pouring the drinks. Rosmerta leaned into the table and whispered conversationally. “Joe’s new here. I think he fancies me,” she said, winking.
“As I recall, every young male who ever walked through those doors could claim the same thing,” Stephen said, his eyes gleaming with nostalgia.
Rosmerta seemed to take a closer look at him. “Stevie Hunter! I thought that was you, but… aren’t you supposed to be dead?”
The other two laughed at the sour expression on Stephen’s face. “A person simply withdraws from society for a few years, and suddenly he’s dead…” he mumbled grouchily. Louder, he said, “No, Rosmerta… as you can see, I’m very much alive.”
“Well, it’s a sight for sore eyes I say. Where’ve you been all these years?” she asked, drawing up a chair and sitting down with them as Joe served the mead in tall glass mugs. Harry took the handle and pulled one to him, spilling frothy white foam on the table in the process. He wiped at it nervously, but no one seemed to notice because the focus was on Stephen. Harry couldn’t place his finger on why he was so jumpy all of a sudden, but he had a feeling something was about to happen, and that was never good.
“Let’s just say I needed a break,” Stephen said to Rosmerta evasively. “I took a working holiday and travelled the world a bit.”
“Wherever you’ve been lad, it’s good to have you home,” Rosmerta declared. “We need all the help we can get around these parts. I understand there’ve been another series of attacks today… Have you heard?” Her voice was low and concerned.
Harry perked up immediately at her words, the hairs on the back of his neck standing on end. “Where?”
“Some place called Little Whinging,” Rosmerta said. “…Near Surrey, I think.”
Harry sat up straight, now truly alarmed. He pushed his drink away and stood up. “When did you hear this?”
Rosmerta’s brow furrowed in confusion at his abrupt change in demeanour. “About an hour ago, I reckon. One of my regulars is an Auror and his partner was called out on the case at closing time. Tanner couldn’t go because he got hit in the leg by a bludgeoning spell a few weeks ago and has been on restriction…” Her voice trailed off as she took in Harry’s rigid stance and the other two men’s worried glances. “Do you know someone who lives there?”
Harry ignored her and turned to Stephen. “Do you think he’d go that far?”
Stephen nodded grimly, his expression sad and worried. “I’m afraid so.” Stephen jumped up and caught his arm as Harry tried to rush away, spinning him around. “Don’t be stupid, Harry… You can’t do anything for them. Whatever’s happened there has already happened. You’d only be exposing yourself.”
“Harry, I was just at you aunt and uncle’s place,” Remus said in an irritatingly logical voice. “Everything seemed fine to me.”
Harry jerked out of Stephen’s grasp angrily. “You don’t understand,” he said, feeling the rawness of his throat. “They’re sitting ducks. If anything happens it’ll be because of me. I may not like them but that doesn’t mean…” His voice trailed off; he couldn’t finish the rest because a large lump had formed in his throat. If they died it would be his fault.
“Let’s see what we can learn before we go rushing off,” Stephen told him firmly. “If we find out that something’s happened, we’ll pop over there and check it out together. I promise.”
Harry nodded and sat down crossly, playing with the handle of his mug. Nervously he took a sip, feeling the cold liquid slide down his throat and partially soothing away the lump; it did nothing to pacify his anxiety, but did help give him something to focus on for a minute.
Remus exchanged a worried glance with Stephen then turned to Rosmerta. “Can I borrow your private fire to Floo Albus?”
“Of course,” she answered, standing up. “I’ll show you where it is.” The two disappeared into a back office.
“Hold it together, Quetzal,” Stephen said, keeping his voice low. “We’ll find out what’s going on soon enough.”
It was a tense few minutes before Remus came back, a scowl on his face. “It’s not good news.”
Harry tensed, waiting for the hammer to fall.
“Your aunt and uncle’s home was destroyed, Harry. They’re still trying to determine if anyone was inside at the time.” Remus hung his head sadly. “It doesn’t look like much was left.”
Harry swallowed hard. “And the Dark Mark?” he asked. “Was it…?”
“Yes,” Remus answered grimly. “Looks like they got Figgy, too.”
Harry sunk down at the news. “…And Dudley?”
Remus shook his head. “He’s safe. He was at school, or so I’m told. They have someone watching him.” Remus looked up and found Harry’s haunted eyes. “You mustn’t blame yourself, Harry. This could have happened to anyone at any time. These days, no one is safe.”
His ears were buzzing, and he was having a hard time focusing on what Remus was saying. Clutching the table, he stood. “I’m going,” he said. “I have to find out for myself what happened and if there’s anything I can do to help.”
Stephen nodded and stood. “Then we’re coming with you.”
Not bothering to respond, Harry turned on his heel and walked out the door, Apparating on the spot.
***
The scene was chaos. Fire trucks, Muggle police, and onlookers crowded the sidewalk in front of the ruined dwelling. The fire had pretty much been extinguished by the time they arrived, but the stench of burning wood still filled the air. Most prominent was the hideous Mark still looming over the house; the snake slid in and out of the mouth of the skull as if mocking the people below. Harry looked away, his heart constricting with guilt. He had not loved his aunt and uncle, but they had been the only family he had ever known. He’d spent the better part of half his life with the occupants of that house and part of him couldn’t believe they were really gone.
“He’s going to pay for this,” Harry ground out between clenched teeth.
“All in good time, Quetzal,” Stephen said, patting his shoulder.
Harry shook his head. “No, Stephen…” he said adamantly. “I can’t stand aside this time and let someone else take care of this for me. He’s gone too far this time.” He turned, prepared to walk away.
“Harry,” Stephen said, worry edging his entire stance. “Where are you going?”
He shook his head. “I just need a minute by myself, that’s all. Wait here for me… I won’t be long.”
Stephen looked at his watch. “You have fifteen minutes. If you’re not back by then, I’m coming after you.”
He nodded and trudged away, not knowing where he was headed but feeling the need to escape. Suddenly, this war had become very real to him and his involvement had probably just cost three people their lives. He had to figure out what he was going to do about that before someone else he cared about got hurt. Next time it could be one of the Weasleys or Hermione, and he didn’t know if he could handle that.
The path he walked somehow led him to the familiar park where he had sat so often this past summer fighting the memories and the influence of that voice that whispered to him, and he plopped down on the bench where he had met Claire Smith that day Tom had tried to take over his mind. The sun was just sinking below the horizon, bringing with it the greyness of twilight, making the street lamps spark to life.
It was all too much. The Dursleys were dead… Mrs. Figg was dead. What had they ever done to anyone? Certainly the Dursleys had never been kind to him, but did they deserve to be murdered just because they were connected to the magical world — to him?
Despair filled Harry’s heart. Automatically, he reached out to Ginny; he could feel her there like he always did, sending him comfort and love through their connection. She seemed so far away right now. Harry grabbed hold of the feelings she was sending him and wrapped them around his heart like a safe, warm blanket. No matter what — he knew he could go on because he had Ginny. She gave him strength to face what he knew was coming. Some how, some way… he had to face the monster and he had to do it soon before he lost the nerve. He’d end this if it killed him.
And then it happened. ‘Pop’, ‘pop’, ‘pop’, ‘pop… About twenty people in black robes and masks surrounded him, their wands drawn.
Harry drew is wand and threw up his hands in a defensive posture. Swivelling around, he realised with sickening dread that he was surrounded.
“What do you want?” he asked, knowing as soon as he said it how stupid it sounded. Of course he knew what they wanted. They wanted him.
“You are so predictable, Potter,” a vaguely familiar masculine voice rang out. “It was pitifully easy to map your steps, especially after our informants at the Ministry and the Three Broomsticks told us where you’d headed. You spent quite a bit of time here this summer pining over your little girlfriend and moping about after your dead Godfather. I know because I was among the people who watched you.”
“You watched me?” Harry said incredulously. “Then why didn’t you ever try to attack me?”
“You are as dim-witted as they say, aren’t you?” the voice scoffed. “If I had wanted you dead, you would be. But, unfortunately, it was forbidden by the Dark Lord to touch you. He wants that pleasure himself, and tonight — after all these years — he’s finally going to get his chance to make you pay for everything you’ve taken from him.”
“So,” Harry said more bravely than he felt, “if you can’t touch me, then I suppose I’ll be going now…” He tried to make a move to Apparate but twenty spells whizzed through the air simultaneously. He managed to avoid most of them, but at least one or two hit its mark, paralyzing him. He dropped to the ground like a stone, inwardly cursing his own stupidity. He should have put up a shield before he tried to Apparate. Damn. Stephen was going to take the mickey out of him for this one. He knew better, but he hadn’t been thinking straight.
“Not so fast, Mr. Potter,” the voice said, amused. “I haven’t said where we’re going yet.” The Death Eaters laughed in triumph as Harry inwardly swore.
Ginny… I’m in trouble, he sent through their connection. I need help.
Hold on Harry, she sent back. I’m coming.
He could feel her fear, but also her determination. Certainly she didn’t intend to come find him, did she? There was no way he wanted her in danger. If they captured her too, he didn’t know what he’d do.
Just go get help, he sent to her. Go to Dumbledore… Hurry!
I’m on my way. Just stay with me, okay?
Harry watched as the dark figure who had been doing all the talking walked towards him with a menacing stride. Harry’s eyes followed him, but he was unable to move a muscle to defend himself.
He felt Ginny’s increasing panic as his own tension level rose.
Where are you, Harry?
I’m in the park close to Privet Drive, he sent back. Hurry, Ginny!
I’m trying! The stupid statue won’t move!
The password is usually some kind of sweet, Harry told her. Keep trying them until you find one that works.
The man was beside him now, stooping down next to him and lowering his hood. “I want you to see the face of the wizard who captured you,” he said. “After today, I will be the most honoured of all of My Lord’s followers, and it’s all thanks to you, Harry.”
Harry’s eyes widened. He recognized the man as one of his Advanced Guard, a member of the Order of the Phoenix. Harry searched his mind for a name… Podmore — Sturgis Podmore. He had been sent to Azkaban for six months after being caught outside the door of the Department of Mysteries. And now he was a Death Eater.
Ginny! It’s Podmore… Sturgis Podmore. Tell Dumbledore that he’s a traitor — a Death Eater.
Harry, this isn’t working! I have to try something else. I’m going to go find Professor Snape.
That was the last thing he remembered before the spell was cast to knock him out and the world dissolved into blackness.
***
Cold… He was so cold…
Harry came into consciousness slowly, the darkened room making it hard for him to tell if he was even awake. His teeth were chattering, and his body ached, as if he had lain for a very long time in the same position. Tentatively he rolled onto his side and drew his knees to his chest, like he used to do after Uncle Vernon had confined him to his cupboard.
The thought of his uncle brought to mind the events on Privet Drive and his current predicament. Searching his pockets, he found his wand missing — not unexpected. They wouldn’t have been stupid enough to throw him in here and not confiscate his wand. He just hoped they hadn’t destroyed it. He was very attached to his wand and hated the thought of getting a new one.
Taking a deep breath, he felt his wrists and realised with relief that he still had his magical bands on. At least he had that. The Death Eaters who had brought him here obviously had not known the significance of the bracelets or they would have tried cutting them off. He already knew from experience that they would not come off the conventional way — they were so tight on his wrists that they might have well have been part of his skin; he had grown so used to them the past couple of months that he hardly noticed them anymore.
A small light from under the door drew his attention and he managed to sit up, although his head spun with every movement. Slowly he swung his legs over the edge of the cot and shakily got to his feet. It was like moving under water, and the closer he got to the door the worse he felt. He recognized the feeling, although usually it was worse. Somewhere on the other side of the door was undoubtedly a Dementor. He was just glad that the door was between it and him, because at least in here he could think more clearly.
Back on the cot, he stared up at the ceiling and tried to focus his senses on the room. He detected layers of enchantments and spells all around, making him certain that any sort of magic he tried in here would not be a good thing. An Anti-Apparition ward would make Apparition impossible, and several other spells screamed of Dark Magic. He groaned in frustration. How had he let himself get in this mess? If he had just stayed with Remus and Stephen, he’d be back at Hogwarts by now with Ron, Hermione, and Ginny.
Ginny!
Hope sprang to life at the thought of her name. Letting down the Occlumency shield a little, he searched his feelings, trying to connect with her to let her know that he was all right. She knew he was in trouble and had gone to get help.
His efforts yielded nothing…
A bit worried, he let the shield drop even further. In the months they’d shared this bond he’d never had so much trouble connecting with her and he wondered what could be wrong. Frustrated, he tried again.
Still nothing…
Panicked now, he searched his mind and his feelings a third time, looking for any sign of her but again came up empty.
The creaking of the heavy wooden door opening startled him and he hastily threw his shield back up, trying to not think about the loss of his connection with Ginny. He knew she was safe at Hogwarts so there must be another reason why their bond wasn’t working. Maybe it had something to do with the Dark Magic surrounding the room…
He focused on the person who was hovering in the doorway. It was Wormtail looking even more worse-for-wear than he had last time Harry had seen him. Rage and anger at the man who had betrayed his parents and Sirius filled his heart. It wasn’t fair that Pettigrew was here when others were not, and he hated him all the more for living. He didn’t deserve to live.
“Cat got your tongue, Wormtail?” Harry asked, trying not to laugh with mirth at his own attempt at humour. There was nothing remotely funny about this situation, and taunting Wormtail would give him no pleasure — especially with that Dementor so close.
“N-no,” Wormtail squeaked. “I w-was told t-to come in and ch-check on you,” he stuttered nervously.
“Okay,” Harry retorted angrily. “You checked, and I’m awake. You can go now… any time you like.”
Wormtail acted as if he wanted to say something else but instead backed out of the cell, shuffling his feet all the way.
“Tosser…” Harry muttered to himself when he was gone. He wished fervently that he had not stopped Sirius and Remus from killing the sod back when they had the chance. All of this was Wormtail’s fault. If he hadn’t escaped that night and brought Voldemort back, none of this would be happening right now.
Almost immediately, Harry could hear talking and then heavy footsteps outside the door. He braced himself; whoever was about to come in knew he was awake, and that meant that they were coming in for him. He knew he wasn’t exactly popular around here, and just hoped that Podmore was right and that they would leave him for Voldemort to deal with. Maybe by then he’d find a way to escape…
He raised his hands slightly as the door swung open again, ready to throw up a shield if need be. He’d already decided to only act defensively at this point. If he gave away all his secrets so soon, they might find a way to disarm him and he’d lose even that small advantage.
Harry shielded his eyes from the light, and as his eyes came into focus he saw a figure in the doorway holding their wand to him.
“On your feet, Potter,” the cold voice said.
“What if I said no?” Harry shot back defiantly.
“Then I’d have no choice but to do this… Crucio!”
He tried to put up a shield but it didn’t work. White-hot pain seared through every muscle, every nerve, and every bone of his body, setting him on fire. The spell had shot right through his shield and hit him square in the chest, just missing the tattoo under his school robes. He heard himself screaming, as if from a distance, but couldn’t stop himself.
Within seconds it was over, and Harry was left panting, feeling as if he had just run a hundred laps around the lake at school.
“Let’s try again… I’ll say it more slowly this time so that your pitiful mind can comprehend what it is I’m telling you to do,” the man said with mock patience. “Get… on… your… feet.”
Reluctantly, and with great effort, Harry pulled himself up off the cot, swaying unsteadily as the room tilted. He thought he might retch with the effort but stubbornly held it down. He’d be damned if he gave them the satisfaction.
The man still had his wand trained on Harry. “Get a move on,” he said harshly, jerking his wand in the direction of the corridor outside the door. “Down there.”
Harry almost passed out as a wave of cold swept over him. He still didn’t see a Dementor, but the effects of the creature were much stronger out here. Wherever it was… it was definitely close.
Desperately, he tried to fill his mind with happy thoughts, but nothing was coming to mind. Ginny seemed so far away, and he was having a hard time recalling what Ron and Hermione even looked like. It seemed like it had been so long since he’d last seen them… Had it really only been that morning?
He tried to remember details about his friends as he had last seen them sitting across from him at breakfast. Ron had been eating bacon and eggs, stuffing them in his mouth like it was his last meal. Hermione had her Advanced Potions book out, looking over the day’s lesson. Harry was extremely grateful that he would miss his usual sparring match with Snape… it was always the low point of the week. Then Ginny had come in with friends and sat a few spaces away. They had played a game with each other, sending various feelings through their connection and trying to make the other one falter. Whoever stumbled first lost the game.
The corridor led to a large room, ominously lit by torchlight. Harry gulped when he saw that it was full of Death Eaters standing in a circle, waiting… They let out a great cheer of triumph when they caught sight of him stumbling through the door, held at wand point by the unnamed Death Eater to his rear.
“Go on,” the Death Eater said when Harry hesitated. He shoved him roughly towards the centre of the circle, laughing when he fell on his hands and knees. “Not so great now, are ya?”
Harry groaned as his muscles protested, feeling the cuts on his hands from the rough ground. Carefully he stood, again using his senses to determine what he could from his surroundings. Like the cell he had been held in, there was an anti-Apparition ward in place here as well as more strands of Dark Magic woven around the cavern — magic he couldn’t even begin to identify.
“Look at how pathetic he is!” a witch cackled. “So weak and scrawny… He is nothing compared to our Dark Lord!”
“I told you that he was nothing,” another witch responded loudly. Harry recognized the voice of Bellatrix Lestrange. “His skills have been greatly exaggerated by those who wish to hurt our cause. The real Potter is nothing more than a scared schoolboy with very little magical talent.”
Harry’s nostrils flared at the insult, but he held his tongue. The anger must have shown on his face, however, because the witch laughed
“I do think that he’s insulted, Bella,” the first witch said in an unfriendly, amused voice.
“Yes… Potter does believe that he’s something special, doesn’t he?” a very familiar voice sneered from behind one of the masks. “His father was the same… arrogant to his dying day.”
Conflicting emotions rose in Harry’s chest. That voice he knew all too well. It was the one he was forced to listen to and obey twice a week as he sat in double Potions. It meant that Snape was here — that he was back in Voldemort’s fold. But the question was as always, where his loyalties truly lay… with Voldemort or Dumbledore. If he was acting on behalf of Dumbledore, then he might have a chance, but if Snape was loyal to Voldemort then Harry was no better off. In fact, he might be sunk, considering how well Snape knew him.
Then his heart skipped a beat. Hadn’t Ginny said she was going to find Snape? If she had, then maybe Snape was here to help. He was interrupted from his thoughts by the arrival of Voldemort.
“Now, now…” the snake’s sinister voice chided from the entrance. “Is that any way to treat a guest? I thought my most loyal servants would have better manners than that.”
Immediately everyone in the room dropped to their knees — everyone except Harry.
“Harry Potter…,” Voldemort said, his red eyes blazing in triumph as he sauntered over to stand in front of him. “At last, we meet again. I understand I have Podmore to thank for this.” His eyes sought out a figure in the crowd. “Podmore… come forth!”
Harry stayed tense and alert, ready for anything. The figure rose to his feet and stepped out into the centre of the circle. Voldemort walked up to him serenely and stood in front of him. “You have done well, Podmore, and Lord Voldemort always rewards loyalty. Draw your wand.”
The figure did as he was commanded.
“You have my permission to begin Mr. Potter’s education.”
Harry’s eyes widened. He didn’t like the sound of that. Looking around wildly, he tried to think of a plan as Podmore raised his wand and shouted, “Crucio!”
Hastily, he tried to dodge… tried to raise a shield but the curse once again found its mark and Harry dropped to the ground, screaming. A few seconds later — what felt like an eternity to Harry — the curse was lifted.
“Very good, Podmore,” Voldemort said approvingly, “very good. You may return to your place.”
Harry groaned but tried to keep the pain from clouding his head. He couldn’t afford to let his guard down, even for an instant. Something seemed to be interfering with his magic. He should have seen the spell forming, seen the magic coming at him and at the very least been able to avoid it. Again he looked up at the strands of Dark Magic that surrounded the cavern and wondered if that was the reason he was not able to block the Unforgivable.
From his position on the ground Harry watched the cloaked figure of Sturgis Podmore retreat. As he gathered himself up onto all fours, Harry decided that whatever happened that curse would not hit him again, even if he had to bring the entire cavern down in the process. He still had his magical bands on and, if he could get them to work properly, they wouldn’t be expecting it. Even Dumbledore and Snape didn’t know about the bands, and suddenly he understood why Stephen had insisted on secrecy.
“I have to applaud you Harry,” Voldemort was saying. “I fully expected you to succumb to my mind invasion tactics this summer, but you somehow found a way to resist them. It puzzled me at first… that is until this last attempt failed. Now I understand what… or should I say who has been helping you.”
Harry’s heart skipped a beat. He knew about Ginny — that couldn’t be a good thing.
“I suppose I shouldn’t be surprised,” Voldemort continued, pacing around the circle. “The Weasley girl is very fetching — if you can stand the stench of a filthy blood traitor.” He paused and looked down at Harry contemptuously. “But what does a half-blood care about that…?”
Harry couldn’t hold his silence anymore. Not one talked about his Ginny like that and got away with it. “You should know, being a half-blood yourself, you sodding bastard!” he yelled, gaining some satisfaction when some of the Death Eaters gasped and others shifted uncomfortably.
Voldemort’s jaw tensed — the only outward sign that he was angry. “I think you need another lesson in manners, Harry.” He raised his wand, but Harry was ready this time. As Voldemort fired the Cruciatus Curse, Harry rolled and fired his own curse out of his hands. The blast knocked Voldemort backwards into several Death Eaters including Sturgis Podmore, inciting the other Death Eaters to jump to their feet in retaliation.
“Leave him!” Voldemort screeched from the ground. “He is mine!”
His followers obeyed immediately, dropping to their knees once again in submission.
Voldemort rose to his feet, an insane smile on his face. “You are full of surprises, aren’t you, Harry? That is what I enjoy most about you. And because I respect you, I’m going to give you one chance, and one chance only, to get out of this situation before I kill you.”
Harry backed up, keeping his hands in front of him, but he was surrounded. He knew there were too many of them to fight on his own — he was fast but not that fast.
“What are you on about?” he asked, hoping to buy some time. And idea was forming in his mind but he needed to do it at exactly the right time because he’d only have one opportunity to make it work.
“You see, Harry,” Voldemort was saying calmly as he walked towards him, “I know that you are more than you seem, just as I am more than a mere mortal. I know all about the prophecy.”
Harry’s heart pounded. “What prophecy?”
Voldemort laughed. “Take your pick, Harry… There are so many. No, I’m not talking about the one made by that phoney, Sybil Trelawney. I’m speaking of the other prophecy… the one that connects us. We are opposite sides of the same coin, you and me. Together, we could rule this world.”
Harry backed up hoping to draw Voldemort just a little bit closer. “What are you trying to say?” he asked. “You can’t possibly think I’d ever join you.”
“Come now, Harry… do I have to spell it out for you? I’m giving you the opportunity of a lifetime,” he said simply. “You’d be a god among men.”
Anger surged through Harry’s veins, but he laughed at Voldemort’s audacity. “You’re mad! You murdered my parents,” Harry said, spitting out the words in disgust. “You’re a monster! I’d never join you.”
Voldemort stepped just a bit closer and Harry reached up to the cavern ceiling, sending a blasting curse upward that loosened a large overhang of rock and sent it tumbling to the ground directly on top of where Voldemort stood.
Unfazed, Voldemort waved his wand and the rocks stopped in mid-air. Another flick had the debris flying safely out of the way.
“No?” Voldemort said, sounding amused by Harry horror — like he had a secret that Harry wasn’t privy to. “Are you certain about that?”
Harry couldn’t help but have a bad feeling about where this was leading.
Then Voldemort dropped the bombshell, the thing that somehow Harry knew all along was coming. “Even if it were the only way to save the life of someone you love?” He drew out a vial and dangled it in front of Harry’s nose.
Harry’s eyes narrowed, staring at the vial of clear liquid. “What is that? What have you done?”
“Join me now, Harry, or suffer the consequences. You won’t get another chance.”
“Go to hell!” Harry yelled rage building in his chest.
Voldemort smiled knowingly. “I knew you’d say that. So predictably Gryffindor… Maybe you’ll change your mind when you see what you’re sacrificing.”
He snapped his fingers and immediately a cloaked body fell out of the air, hitting the ground in front of Harry with a heavy thud. Harry bent down cautiously and turned the person over, dreading what he was about to find. Red hair spilled out from underneath the hood as it slipped off the unconscious form; freckles dotted the pale face.
“Ginny!” Harry gasped. No… it must be a trick. He patted the face of the still girl, trying to revive her. “Wake up!”
“She won’t wake,” Voldemort said pityingly, echoing the words Tom had spoken in the Chamber of Secrets. “I’m afraid it’s too late for that.”
This couldn’t be happening… The girl on the ground convulsed.
No… Ginny was at Hogwarts. This couldn’t be right. He looked down at the girl on the ground critically, his heart telling him that it couldn’t be Ginny but his mind betraying him. It was possible… Hadn’t Ginny said she was going to find Snape — and wasn’t Snape here? He tried again to reach out to her through their connection.
Ginny! Where are you?
The girl moaned. “Help me.” She even sounded like Ginny. Was it possible…?
“That’s right, Harry,” Voldemort said with sickening glee. “Severus has done his job well. You see… I’ve known for quite some time now about the significance of the girl, and now I have you both. You can thank your Potion’s master for that.”
Harry turned his anger on the hooded figure he knew was Snape. “How could you!” he yelled. “She has nothing to do with this. You’re supposed to be on our side!”
“Don’t be an idiot, Potter,” Snape’s voice sneered. “I chose my side long ago.”
Suddenly Snape’s robes began to smoulder and catch on fire, caught in Harry’s elemental magic. “I hope you burn in hell for what you’ve done,” Harry said furiously, turning back to Ginny.
Snape hopped around trying to put out the flames, aided by several fellow Death Eaters who cast streams of water at him to put out the fire.
Harry ignored them as he picked up the lifeless form in front of him and held her close. Her breathing was becoming ragged and irregular. “Ginny… please. Wake up!” he pleaded. “Don’t leave me. You have to fight this.” Underneath him Ginny began to struggle for breath, her lips turning a pale shade of blue.
He looked up at Voldemort. “Why are you doing this to her? What has she ever done to you!”
“I warned you, Harry,” Voldemort said, his red eyes boring into Harry’s. “You had the chance to save your beloved, but instead you chose to stick to your noble principles. This is what happens to people who love. It is a weakness I have never allowed myself. Ginny Weasley, you see, was given a slow-acting poison, and this vial is the antidote. Unless you make the right choice, I’m afraid you’ll have killed her.”
“No!” Harry cried as Ginny began gasping for air. “No, you can’t do this. I’ll do whatever you want… just save her. Please!” He felt as if his heart was being ripped in two and he wanted to scream, to tear the place down… to do whatever he had to do in order to save her. In his arms, Ginny gasped and then stilled.
Voldemort tutted. “It looks like you might be too late.” He laughed cruelly, seeming to enjoy every iota of pain he was causing. “Such a tragedy if she were to die… she is so young.”
Rage began to build inside him, making Harry feel like he might explode from the inside out. He felt the power coursing through his veins. Like a tidal wave, it rose to an enormous height and crested, spilling out of him with a terrible force more powerful than anything anyone in the cavern had ever seen.
The walls began to shake and debris began to fall all around them, but Harry didn’t see… didn’t care. The monster was killing Ginny — that was the only thing he knew. The Death Eaters around him scrambled away in fear, but he didn’t care. The only thing he could focus on was the monster in front of him, the girl in his arms who was inches away from death, and the vial that could save her life.
Voldemort was still laughing and Harry knew without a doubt that he was now capable of killing the monster — to show him no mercy, like he was showing no mercy to Ginny. Deliberately he fixed all of his pent up rage and anger on Voldemort who cast a shield to protect himself from Harry’s wrath.
“That’s right, Harry,” Voldemort said, visibly showing the effort of holding back the force of Harry’s anger. “Blame me, hate me… that’s what you want, isn’t it? You want to kill me.”
Harry’s eyes glowed green, and the power swirled around him like it had the time he had been inside Ginny’s body that summer back in the Leaky Cauldron when the man, Tom, had cursed her. Only this time, Ginny was not cursed — she was dying. The reality of it tore at him, and he cried out again in rage. The earth below his feet shook, toppling several frightened Death Eaters who had not fled. All Harry wanted was that vial locked tightly in Voldemort’s hand — Ginny’s only chance.
“I can save her yet, Harry,” Voldemort rasped heavily. “Just say the word and it will be done.”
A sudden coldness suddenly filled the cavern, and Harry felt his power ebb. Screaming filled his ears and the feeling of despair after Sirius had died overtook him, taking him by surprise. The presence of the Dementor seemed to suck all the hope out of the air, and it swooped towards Harry; at the same time Bellatrix Lestrange fired a curse from behind him, spinning him around. Harry dropped to the ground, stunned. Harry felt like his chest was being squeezed, as if an invisible rope were being pulled tightly around his torso keeping him from moving his arms and legs. He felt the sweat break out on his forehead and that familiar weakness that came with exposure to Dementors.
Through hazy vision, Harry watched Voldemort drop his shield. With a wave of his hand, he sent the hovering Dementor away. It glided out of sight and slowly the air returned to its normal temperature, the screaming stopped pounding in his head. Voldemort walked over to Harry casually, looking down on him like a bug he was itching to squash.
“Last chance Harry,” Voldemort said, waving the vial in front of his face. “The longer you fight me, the more likely Ginny will die. Choose now, or I might find myself suddenly growing,” he faked dropping the vial and catching it at the last minute, “clumsy…”
Harry knew he was beaten. Broken, he looked over at Ginny just three feet away. She was still as death and he knew that his only chance of saving her was to submit to the will of the snake.
“Wh-what do I have to do?” he asked through gritted teeth. “Just save her, and I’ll do anything you want.”
“Just lower your Occlumency shield,” Voldemort said, “and I’ll do the rest. Submit to me and her life will be spared.”
“Give her the vial, and I’ll do it.”
Voldemort snapped his fingers and Bellatrix was by his side in an instant. “Prepare to give the girl the antidote as soon as Mr. Potter drops his shield.”
Harry bit back his refusal — he knew that the snake was a liar — but at this point he didn’t have a choice. He’d do whatever it took to save Ginny, even if it meant selling his soul to the devil.
Bellatrix went to Ginny’s side and tilted her head up, the vial poised above her open mouth.
Slowly, Harry nodded, opening the door to his mind. He felt the snake take residence inside the walls he had worked so hard to build. The snake tore them down like tissue paper and Harry felt his perspective change, like he was looking outside his own eyes from a distance. He tried to fight back — to struggle against the invasion — but the snake was too strong. It coiled around him and bound him so that he had no control over his own body. The pain from his scar exploded and inside his own mind Harry screamed in agony.
Helplessly, Harry watched as the snake walked over to Ginny. Bellatrix laughed and smashed the vial on the ground, spilling Ginny’s last hope. Roughly, Harry felt his foot kick Ginny’s lifeless body then turn away, leaving her in a heap on the cold, hard floor. Harry screamed in rage and struggled to free himself from the grip of the snake, but the snake squeezed harder. Like at the Ministry the previous year when Voldemort had possessed him, he didn’t know where the snake began and he ended.
Harry cried out in pain. Ginny! Dumbledore had said that his love for Sirius had saved him — that Voldemort couldn’t stand being in a body that loved so profoundly… but the snake just laughed.
“I have learned my lessson ass well, boy,” it hissed. “Did you think me sso foolish that I would not take measuress to protect mysself? Your love for the girl can not affect me, no matter how deeply you felt for her.”
“You’ll pay for this, Voldemort!” Harry yelled.
“You’re mine now, Harry. I’m ssending you to a placce insside our own mind where you can never esscape from.”
Something clicked in Harry’s mind at his words. Beware of the Shadow of the Serpent. The Shadow of the Serpent is your greatest weakness... Do not fall into the Shadow…
“That’ss right, Harry,” the voice crowed. “It’ss the placce of nightmares, and it will be your prisson forever…”
Harry felt a tug and then he was thrown backward into his own mind. He reached out with everything he had to grab onto something to stop himself, but it was useless. The last thing he remembered seeing was Ginny’s dead body lying lifeless on the ground and he cried out in agony because he felt as if his heart were being ripped in two.
Ginny was dead. He had fallen into the Shadow of the Serpent and there was no way out.
Voldemort laughed. “It is done. The boy is mine!” he said speaking to the Death Eaters who had not fled the cavern. “From now on you will answer to two masters. You have a new Dark Prince! It is time to show them what we are capable of together, my boy. Wormtail!” he called out.
The subservient form slinked from the corner obediently. “Y-yes master?”
Voldemort pointed his wand at the snivelling rat. “Kneel!” he commanded.
“Y-yes master,” Wormtail said, dropping to his knees in fear.
Voldemort handed Harry his wand. “A little demonstration for all those who doubt that the boy is now mine…”
From afar, Severus Snape watched as Harry’s green eyes glowed red. An evil smile crossed the boy’s face as he raised his wand at the frightened form of Peter Pettigrew. It was a chilling expression — an expression that Snape had never seen on his student’s face before. He held his breath as a slight flicker flashed across Harry’s face, but it disappeared almost immediately as the vessel raised his wand, ignoring the snivelling protests of the balding man in front of him.
The next thing Snape knew, Harry’s wand fired the curse that ended Wormtail’s life.
[A/N: Well… there you have it. Special thanks goes to Arnel (super beta and good friend), Melindaleo, mbwun5, chreechree, and elgringo for all your helpful comments and encouragement. I agonized over this chapter. Believe me… it was ten times more difficult to write than it was to read, and these people held my hand through it. Christine — you rock!
Next chapter is titled “Lost”. Things will keep moving at a fast pace from here on out, so there will be no dragging my feet on the plot. Stick with me and I know you won’t be disappointed. (I committed the cardinal sins in this chapter that elgringo had informed me would make him stop reading, but as soon as he read through chapter 22 I got a hasty email saying he forgave me. It made me laugh, so I thought I’d share.) Trust me… I know what I’m doing.
See you next Friday and review away (but please… no flames — at least not until you see where this is leading). I’m curious to hear what you’ll have to say about this one. Remember my mantra… “I believe in happy endings.”
FYI: My disagreement with Melinda had to do with Harry allowing his body to commit murder. This draft went through some major revisions and I even wrote an alternate ending, but in the end I decided that I had to be true to my original plot. It wouldn’t work any other way, and if you look back you’ll see that I have been working towards this since Home Alone. She hasn’t seen this final version, so I’m not sure what she’s going to think of it (she’s out of town) but she has seen the next chapter and she gave me her stamp of approval on that one. In any event, we’re still each other’s number one supporters even if we don’t always agree on every literary choice, and I highly value her advice as a fellow writer and friend.]
Chapter 23: Lost
Disclaimer:The characters and situations of Harry Potter depicted in this story are the legal property of J.K. Rowling, Bloomsbury, and AOL Time Warner, and have been used without permission. No copyright infringement is intended.
No profit is being made off this story. It is for entertainment purposes only.
“Lost”
Every part of Stephen’s body hurt, mostly because he was bone weary from weeks of sleepless nights and restless days. It had been almost eight months since Harry’s disappearance… eight months of worry and guilt. Eight months of searching.
Somehow he had managed to keep his classes going with the help of the entire Hogwarts staff and Hermione Granger who had graciously accepted a position as a teacher’s assistant, marking the parchments of the lower years and freeing him to track down every lead possible — not that there were many. Every chance he got, Stephen was out looking for signs of Harry, but so far there had not much to go on. Only rumours, innuendo… speculation — none of it good.
The night Harry had disappeared from the vicinity of his aunt and uncle’s ruined home Stephen had made it to the park just in time to see the last of the Death Eaters Disapparate. He had tried to stun one in the hopes that he or she could provide them with information on where they had taken Harry but the spell had grazed through the air, missing the intended victim by millimetres. When Stephen had stopped cursing and Remus had effectively calmed him down enough, they had done everything in their power to try and locate Harry but came up solidly empty. Severus had been in the cavern where Podmore and the others had taken Harry, but when the place had started to come down he had fled, coming to the Order for reinforcements. By the time they had gotten there both Harry and Voldemort were gone.
A knock at his office door roused him from his brooding. With great reluctance he pulled himself out of his chair and made his way to the door.
“I have the First Year’s essays marked Professor Hunter,” Hermione Granger said, handing him a stack of parchments. Her neat handwriting could be seen on the top paper, making useful comments in the margins. As usual, it seemed she had efficiently organized the essays according to the marks she would expect the students to be assigned. All Stephen had to do at this point was look over the essays and assign a grade to the papers. He’d found early on that Hermione had a good instinct for determining the credit a student should earn for their work, and he trusted her judgment.
“Thank you, Miss Granger,” he said earnestly, taking the stack out of her hand. “You are a godsend.”
She blushed at the praise. “I like feeling useful,” she said with a small smile but her expression immediately turned anxious. “Has there been any news?”
Stephen shook his head as he sat back down behind the desk heavily, letting the papers fall on top of the semi-organized mess. He gestured for Hermione to take a seat opposite him in one of the stiff-backed chairs on the other side of his desk.
“I thought I had something this time, but it turned out to be a false lead,” he told her tiredly. “A person matching Harry’s description was seen exiting from a wizard home in Liverpool along with a small group of known Death Eaters. The owners of the house moved out of the country last year after news of Voldemort’s resurrection became apparent. A recent rash of attacks in the area as well as a tip from a concerned neighbour led authorities to stake it out. The Aurors suspect that the house was being used by the Death Eaters as a sort of base of operations but before they could get inside it blew up, destroying the house and everything in it.”
“That’s terrible!” Hermione exclaimed. “Was anyone hurt in the explosion?”
Hunter shook his head. “They were very lucky. One more minute and a whole team of good witches and wizards would have lost their lives. Unfortunately, if Harry was being held there at some point, any evidence is now gone. We’re back to square one, I’m afraid.”
Hermione wrung her hands. “Do you… do you really think that he’s alive, Professor? It’s been so long…”
Stephen hesitated. He knew Harry was out there somewhere, but his head betrayed him with reason. Even if Harry’s body was alive, what kind of shape would his mind be in after eight months? He wanted to hold out hope, but with every day that passed it was becoming more and more difficult. Attacks on wizards and Muggles alike had reached an all time high, reminiscent of the height of the first war. The world had been plunged into darkness and Harry’s disappearance had hit the Wizarding world hard. It seemed that Voldemort had most likely won this war already; only Dumbledore, Stephen, and the Order of the Phoenix held out any hope that he could yet be defeated.
After a long pause, Stephen’s eyes fell on the anxious girl in front of him and he knew that she was looking to him for hope that her best friend was out there… that he could be rescued one day. He wasn’t prepared to take her hope away — at least not today.
“Yes, Miss Granger…” he answered finally. “I feel certain that he’s alive. We’ll find him and when we do, we’ll bring him home. I haven’t given up on him yet, and neither should you.”
Hermione breathed a sigh of relief. “Thank you, Professor. If there’s anything that we can do, Ron and I are more than willing…”
Stephen nodded towards his desk and the waiting parchments. “You’re helping a great deal already. Are you sure that your own work isn’t suffering as a result of the time you’re putting into your duties?”
“Thank you for your concern, Professor, but my marks are adequate,” she said, avoiding the question. He knew her well enough to know that Hermione’s adequate was most student’s best, so he didn’t worry much. “There are more important things than marks,” she murmured softly.
“Ah, yes… Speaking of which,” Stephen said, attempting to lighten the mood, “I hear that Gryffindor is in the running for the Quidditch Cup again this year.”
Hermione beamed. “Ron has done a fine job as interim Captain while Harry’s been away. The team has taken it upon themselves as a personal mission to do the best job that they can so that when Harry comes home they can present him with the Cup.”
“How is Mr. Creevey doing as Seeker?” Stephen said conversationally. He knew that Hermione was not as well versed on Quidditch strategies as her counterpart, Mr. Ronald Weasley, but he was genuinely interested. Besides, it helped to keep their minds off other issues.
“He’s done quite well,” Hermione answered proudly. “It was rough going at first, but I think they have some of the bugs worked out now. Colin isn’t the flyer that Harry was, or even Ginny… but he’s motivated and has made some excellent catches in practice. Saturday’s match will be a challenge, but Gryffindors tend to excel under pressure.” She laughed lightly. “…At least that’s what I keep telling Ron. He’s so focused on winning this last match that he’s done nothing but eat, sleep, and breathe Quidditch. He’s driving his team relentlessly, but I think having the responsibility of the captaincy has helped him as much as being your student assistant has helped me. It gives us both something to focus on.”
He nodded understandingly, dreading the question he had to ask. “And how is Miss Weasley holding up? I see her in class, but I must confess… it is difficult to see her looking so distraught. I know how much Harry means to her, and with their bond severed… I know it must be hard for her.”
Hermione’s face clouded. “I’m terribly worried about her, Professor Hunter. She looks paler every day — like a ghost wandering the halls. Somehow she’s managing to keep up in most of her classes, but just barely. Ron and I try to help her as much as we can — as do her other friends — but every day she withdraws a little bit more. It’s killing Ron to see his sister in so much pain, but there’s nothing we can do for her. The only thing that will make her feel better is to find Harry — alive.”
“I’m trying, Miss Granger,” Stephen said, bitterly wishing he had a better answer to give her. “The Order and I are tracking down every lead, but there’s nothing. You must know that.”
“I understand, Professor,” she said, rising awkwardly from her chair. “If you’ll excuse me, I have some things to take care of before dinner. Next time I come back around I’ll return those books you lent me. I’m very close to solving the puzzle box Harry gave me, thanks to you. The book on ancient Mesoamerican magical runes and symbols is proving most helpful.”
Stephen chuckled. “Yes… yes, of course. Keep them as long as you like. I’m glad they have been useful. I’ll be interested to see what you turn up, if you have the time. Those puzzle boxes are quite rare. I wasn’t even aware that Harry had one until you asked for the reference material.” He paused as showed he to the door causing Hermione to hesitate as well. “Please let Miss Weasley know that if there is anything I can do…” he said lamely, wishing he could say more.
Hermione nodded sympathetically. “I’ll tell her, Professor, thank you.” She slipped out the door quietly, but Stephen knew her heart was screaming inside just as loudly as his for a young man with messy hair and glasses… a boy lost out in the wilderness all because he — Stephen — hadn’t done his job properly.
He shuffled back to his desk feeling defeated, his mind thinking back on that day. The Death Eaters had chosen their day well. The moment the emancipation papers had been signed the ancient blood magic that had protected his aunt and her family had disappeared, leaving them vulnerable.
‘Oh Quetzal…’ he thought for what felt like the thousandths time. ‘Why did you have to go off by yourself that night… and why in the name of Merlin didn’t I stop you?’
Stephen knew that he hadn’t been completely honest with Hermione, and the guilt niggled at him. The Order had heard news of Harry, but it most definitely wasn’t good news. The few Death Eaters they’d managed to capture and interrogate had spoken very reverently of their master’s new protégé. Whatever Voldemort had been trying to do to Harry’s mind over the summer was finally working, apparently. The young Dark Lord was rumoured to be ruthless, rivalled only by Voldemort himself.
In fact, the reports were unclear about who exactly was more brutal… the young man who preferred torture to killing and who commanded the elements without the use of a wand, or the madman who was controlling him. It was reported that at times they almost seemed to be the same person rather than master and protégé. Clearly, Voldemort had found a way to take over Harry’s mind so completely that he couldn’t fight back. Not even Ginny could reach him. Stephen only hoped that Harry — the real Harry — was still in there somewhere fighting to get out. The alternative was too terrible to think about. Even Harry’s Apparition licence had worked against him. Ministry officials had ways of tracking unlicensed Apparators but Harry had slipped under the radar; if he was doing any Apparition at all it couldn’t be tracked unless he happened to get himself splinched — a very unlikely scenario.
It would take a miracle to bring him back now, and Stephen wasn’t sure he believed in miracles anymore.
***
Ginny could hear the whispering before she saw the faces but she kept her head down and pretended not to notice. Romilda Vane, a fourth year with a propensity for gossip that rivalled even Parvati Patil and Lavender Brown was at it again.
After Harry had disappeared Ginny had gone to pieces. She had known the moment he was in trouble, but she hadn’t been able to reach anyone who could do anything to help. She had stood in front of the gargoyle statue throwing every sweet she could think of at it, swearing like a sailor and crying. But no matter how much she screamed and begged, it just stood there silently, staring at her with pitiless, stone cold eyes.
She didn’t remember much of that night but by the time McGonagall had found her huddled in a heap on the floor by the foot of the statue, the connection had been gone for hours. No one could explain what had happened — the possibility that Harry was dead was not an option — but Hermione had done some research and had a hunch. Certain Dark spells could block connections such as Life Bonds and Soul Bonds temporarily. Harry could also have been given a potion to confuse him or to aid in the blocking of the connection. Also, if he was unconscious, Ginny would have a very difficult time connecting with him, just as she had during the summer.
Since that night Ginny had felt as if half of her was missing. Sometimes the sadness was so overwhelming that it literally took her breath away. She’d catch a glimpse of dark hair from a distance or something unexpected would remind her of Harry and she’d dissolve into tears. Ginny had never been overly emotional, but she’d found a new respect for Cho Chang. Cho, herself, had been nice; the seventh year Ravenclaw had seemed to sense her distress at one point and had even sought her out and tried to comfort her.
No one knew exactly why Ginny was so distraught, but everyone had their suspicions — she had been the centre of gossip for months now. A few like Romilda Vane thought she had unrequited feelings for the lost Boy-Who-Lived and was certain that she was just looking for attention, but others seemed to suspect the truth. Dean had finally stopped asking her out and had turned his attentions to a pretty fifth year Hufflepuff that Ginny didn’t know well. However, he still tried to cheer her up every chance he got, and she had even caught him staring at her thoughtfully when he thought she wasn’t looking.
Ginny’s thoughts were interrupted by Ron who plopped down beside her. He snatched up the textbook that she was currently trying to read and raised an eyebrow.
“Potions for the Potentially Potent?” he read, looking at the title. “Why are you reading a book about how to get rid of body odour?”
Ginny snatched the book back, not in the mood for jokes. “For your information, it’s a reference book for an essay on the uses of Bundimun secretion in cleansing potions,” she said sourly.
“No need to get shirty with me — I was just curious,” Ron said, holding his hand in front of him in a defensive posture.
Ginny immediately felt guilty; it wasn’t Ron’s fault she was such a mess, and it was wrong to take it out on him just because he was here.
“I’m sorry,” she said truthfully. “Romilda Vane is at it again, and I’m probably reacting to her more than you. Forgive me?”
Ron’s face clouded as he shot the fourth-year huddled with her friends across the room a dark look. “Of course. Do you want me to talk to her? I’m still a prefect, you know.”
Ginny shook her head. “It’ll only wind up the gossip more. I’d just like to get this essay finished before sunrise.”
Ginny was only half joking. She hadn’t slept very well since Harry had been gone and when she did she often dreamt about him locked away in a dark room, all alone and unable to find a way out. He didn’t seem to know she was there no matter how much she screamed. Waking up at night screaming Harry’s name and crying hysterically hadn’t done a thing to dispel the rumours that she was pining for him. They weren’t off base in that she was pining for Harry, but most seemed to pity her because they thought that it was just a manifestation of her childhood infatuation.
Ron gave her a critical look. “You’re not eating properly and you barely sleep,” he said with concern. “Harry wouldn’t want this-”
“How do you know what Harry would want,” she snapped sharply, drawing the stares of several people close by. The common room was full of students studying and relaxing — a typical evening in the Gryffindor Tower, and they all wanted to know exactly what her relationship had been with the boy in question. Ginny lowered her voice. “I was privy to his feelings, Ron, and I think that I more than anyone would know what Harry would want. He wouldn’t want us to give up on him.”
Ron looked taken aback by her bad temper. Ginny tended to mope a lot and had become very introverted, but she rarely lashed out. “I was only trying to help,” he said. “Harry was my friend and I did know him pretty well, you know.”
Ginny paled. “Don’t you dare talk about him in the past tense,” she hissed. “He’s not dead!” Her eyes filled with tears again but she fought them, determined not to lose it here in front of the entire Gryffindor Tower.
“Ginny,” Ron said gently. “It’s been eight months… Don’t you think we’d have some indication by now that he’s still alive?” Ginny covered her ears in a childish attempt to block out Ron’s words but he refused to let her hide. He grabbed her arms and forced her to listen. “I want to believe as much as anyone that he’s coming back, but I don’t know anymore....”
“He’s coming back to me, Ron,” she whispered angrily. “I know it. He’s not dead, just lost.”
Ron seemed like he didn’t really believe her, she could tell that he didn’t want to hurt her anymore. “Ginny…,” he said in that older-brother-knows-best tone that he liked to use sometimes, just as Hermione burst through the portrait hole yelling their names.
“Thank goodness I found you,” she exclaimed, excitement flushing her face.
“Hermione, take a deep breath,” Ron said, jumping up. “What’s wrong?”
“I did it, Ron! I did it… finally,” she said breathlessly.
“Did what?” Ginny asked.
Hermione flew at Ginny and pulled her up into a big bear hug spinning her around. “I solved the puzzle box,” she cried, ignoring the curious stares she was getting from others in the room. “It took me months, but I just knew it would pay off and it did… it really did. I did it!” she squealed.
“Hermione,” Ron scoffed, sitting back down, disappointed. “I thought for a minute there you had some real news. You shouldn’t get our hopes up like that.” He turned to the people in the room. “Go on then… you heard her. She solved a bloody puzzle box. Not exactly breaking news, is it?”
The people in the vicinity grumbled at his callous attitude as he shooed them away, but they turned back to their own conversations and left them alone.
Hermione took Ginny’s limp hand in hers and led her to a nearby chair, forcing her to sit down. Then she crouched in front of her and, looking her straight in the eye. “You remember the puzzle box that Harry gave me after his trip this summer?” she asked, her eyes twinkling.
Ginny nodded mutely. She had seen Hermione tinkering with it on and off all year, but she had assumed it was Hermione’s way of distracting herself.
“A few weeks before Harry disappeared he was acting really funny… talking up a storm about everything that had happened to him over the summer. We thought at the time that he had been drugged or something… do you remember?”
“I stayed up with him that night and when he woke up we sat by the fire holding each other,” Ginny said quietly, looking towards the hearth and the couch where they had lain. For Ron’s sake she left out the bit where they had taken their relationship to a new level, merging their souls as they snogged each other senseless. It was a memory that she held onto to help keep her sane, although it caused her great pain every time she thought of it. “What about it?” she asked Hermione flatly.
“Harry gave me some useful information that night and I’ve been doing research on this box ever since.” She held the box up. “See these carvings here? They tell the story of Quetzalcoatl and Tezcatlipoca, two warring Gods who the Mesoamericans believe have fought for centuries over control of the earth. Tezcatlipoca wants to destroy the earth — or at the very least rule over it — while Quetzalcoatl is called the Defender of Humanity.”
Ron rolled his eyes. “That’s great, Hermione… really interesting. But what’s got your knickers in such a twist, and why are you so bloody excited over some dumb story?”
Hermione gave him a scathing look. “I’m getting to that Ron. Don’t you remember Harry telling us that the Mixtec people believed that he was Quetzalcoatl reincarnated.”
“Harry told you that?” Ginny said, genuinely surprised. He had never told her all this.
“That night he said a lot of things… I think Harry never told us about all this because he was embarrassed. He’s never been one to think much of himself and I’m sure it was not an easy thing for him to have others look at him like a god. But I confirmed all this with Professor Hunter, and he corroborated Harry’s story. The Mixtecs really believed that Harry was Quetzalcoatl reincarnate and that V-Voldemort is Tezcatlipoca, the god of smoke and mirrors — the ultimate magician and trickster.” She shook her head as if to clear it. “Anyway, someone on the island wanted him to have this box. Foolishly, I’ve been looking for a way to open it since he gave it to me, but I discovered recently through my research that this is a magical puzzle box… it’s not meant to be opened but to be unlocked by a spell.”
“What kind of spell?” Ginny asked, completely interested now.
Hermione shook her head. “I don’t know, exactly, but I’ve got a hunch that it’s important — that it’ll help us find Harry. The glyphs and runes carved into the box suggest that if the box is opened under the full moon at a time of great need, Quetzalcoatl will hear the call and answer, no matter where he is in the universe.”
“So if Harry is this Quetzal bloke,” Ron surmised, “then we might be able to get him back.”
“That’s what I’m hoping,” Hermione said.
“So, let’s do it,” Ron said enthusiastically. “What are we waiting for?”
“Hold on… there’s more,” Hermione said, chewing her lip nervously.
“Hermione,” Ron said, “so you know how to open this thing or not? Is it complicated? Dangerous?” His face darkened. “If it’s dangerous, you’re not doing it.”
Hermione waved her hand irritably. “The spell part isn’t the problem, Ron. It seems to be a relatively straight-forward spell that doesn’t look to be very complicated. But the problem is that I can’t open it,” Hermione said with a small frown. “It requires a kind of key to open it.” She pointed to the glyphs and pictures that decorated the box. “The key part has stumped me for quite some time, but tonight I discovered something that I think will open the box. It’s something that’s been right under our noses all along.”
“What is it?” Ginny asked, feeling her apathy drain away a bit. For the first time in months she was feeling something. This box was connected to Harry; as she traced the glyphs with her index finger she could feel traces of the magic dwelling inside. It reminded her of Harry’s magic and she felt a spark of something… something she hadn’t felt in a long time.
Hermione caught her eye and held her gaze steadily. “It’s you, Ginny,” she said seriously. “You’re the Key.”
“Me?” Her eyes fell to the box; it seemed to be calling to her and her heart filled with hope.
Hermione nodded. “See this symbol here?” she said pointing to a glyph on the box. “I found the translation today in an old text that Professor Hunter lent me. It’s the symbol for divine love — soul mate — and it’s next to the symbol for key. This one here means open, this one is lock, and this one is midnight on the eve of a full moon. I worked out the translation of this passage here to mean: At a time of great need, the Key will summon the Prince from the belly of the of the Serpent where he has been imprisoned.”
Ron leaned over to examine the box more closely then looked up and grinned. “Hermione, you’re brilliant! I can’t believe you figured this all out.”
“There’s more,” Hermione said, pulling out an old scroll from her bag. “Professor Hunter showed me this. I think you need to see it.” She unrolled it for them to see, placing a parchment next to it with an English translation. “This prophecy was made by the Ancient Ones who built the island the Mixtecs live on. Some of it is missing, I think, because it has been passed down through the generations in the form of a song. If this is true, it makes me wonder whether or not Harry isn’t a reincarnation of Quetzalcoatl. It all seems to fit…”
Ginny took the paper and read:
“Through mist and darkness the Shadow of the Serpent will rise to power.
His reign will be terrible, and many will fear to speak his name.
In the last days, the child of Lightning and Thunder will be sent.
You will know him by this:
He will be the plume of the serpent, have eyes of green jewels,
Command the feather of tears, and possess the gift of the sky.
Ehecailacozcatl shall be his.
The child will turn back the Dark for a day, but at a great price.
The Shadow of the Serpent will rise again and the child will return to us
Carried by his brother from across the Great Water.
He will destroy the Enemy with his light, but the Dark will see.
To escape the Darkness the child will seek out the shelter of the Temple of the Gods.
For a time there will be peace, but soon the Storm will return.
Darkness will reign until the end.
At the midnight hour the Prince, no longer a child, will fall into the Shadow;
His choice will decide the fate of the world.
All seems lost for a time, but the Key shall summon him back from the depths of hell.
To save his soul he will return to the Temple of the Gods, bringing the Serpent with him.
There the final battle will take place. A sacrifice will be made, a spell will be cast,
And the Serpent shall be defeated.”
Ginny looked up and blinked. “That’s amazing. I think I can place Harry in most of this, but I don’t understand this bit here.” She pointed to the characteristics that would identify the child in question as being ‘the one’.
“That had me stumped, too, for awhile,” Hermione admitted. “But I think I figured out a logical explanation. Obviously, the child of Lightning and Thunder could be a reference to Harry’s curse scar, or it could be a related to his elemental abilities. Regardless, it does fit him if you look at it in a certain way.”
“What does ‘plume of the serpent’ mean,” Ron asked. “Snakes don’t have feathers.”
“Quetzalcoatl was known as the feathered serpent. Harry has many of the qualities of both Slytherin and Gryffindor, exemplifying both a snake and a bird.”
“Harry said that the Hat wanted to put him in Slytherin but that he asked to be put in Gryffindor,” Ginny put in. “Also, he said that he can turn into a least two Animagus forms, a snake and a bird.” She pointed to the next thing. “Eyes of green jewels… that certainly fits,” she said, remembering how vividly green Harry’s eyes were and how they were always full of rich emotion. “But what about ‘command the feather of tears’? What does that mean?” she asked Hermione.
“That’s easy,” Ron answered. “Harry’s wand has a phoenix feather in its core.”
“… the phoenix tears,” Ginny said, understanding now. “Of course! I remember Fawkes healing Harry’s arm with his tears in the Chamber. I had almost forgotten that.”
Hermione nodded in agreement. “And Harry has a natural gift for flying,” she added. “That’s what I took from that phrase, ‘gift of the sky’.”
“And then there’s Ehecailacozcatl,” Ginny whispered. “I know he has that.”
“Ehec-ail-huh?” Ron asked, fumbling with the unfamiliar native word.
“It’s that strange tattoo Harry has on his chest,” Ginny explained. “I heard him discussing it with Professor Hunter once. It enhances his innate magical power, I think. He was given it on the island by some odd statues he called the Ancient Ones.”
Hermione slapped her hand down on the paper. “It all fits,” she said with an excited whoop. “Harry is the person in this prophecy.”
Ron and Ginny exchanged worried looks.
“Hermione,” Ron said carefully, “if this prophecy is about Harry, this can’t be all good. There’s some pretty bad stuff there, don’t you think?”
“Well,” Hermione said, “from what I’ve been able to work out, part of this has already come to pass.” She pointed to various lines. “There first ones relate to V-Voldemort’s first reign, and then when Harry defeated him as a baby. This other part here refers to events that happened this summer. And we know it was about midnight when Harry was taken by the Death Eaters. It’s possible that this Shadow-thing could be the reason Harry’s been gone so long. He’s been stuck in this thing all this time waiting for the Key, or Ginny, to summon him.” She wrung her hands. “Oh, if only I’d worked this out sooner.”
“Don’t blame yourself, Hermione,” Ron said proudly. “You solved it… that’s what’s important.” He turned to Ginny, whose eyes were glistening. “We have hope now, Ginny. Harry’s coming back to us, I can feel it.”
Ginny nodded, too choked up to speak, as she hugged her brother tightly.
“When can we do this spell?” Ron asked Hermione as he hugged his sister back.
Hermione looked out the window at the darkening sky. “It’s a full moon,” she said gravely. “We can do it tonight.” She looked at Ginny. “I can begin teaching you the spell now, if you like, but I think we might need some help. Harry might not be himself, and he’s very powerful… We don’t know what he’s capable of or what kind of condition he might be in when we get him back.”
Ginny looked at Hermione sharply. “Harry would never hurt us, Hermione.”
“I-I know Ginny, but-”
“I’ll go get Professor Hunter,” Ron said firmly. “He’s the only one who will understand any of this, and if things get out of hand he will be there to help. Should we tell Dumbledore, too, do you think?” he asked.
“Leave that up to Professor Hunter,” Hermione said reasonably. “But I do think it’s a good idea to have him there. What do you think, Ginny?”
“I’d like him to be there,” Ginny managed to say. “Harry trusts him.”
Her mind was a jumble. In just a few hours she might be seeing Harry again after so long, and it was hard to focus on anything else.
Ron nodded resolutely and disappeared out the portrait hole.
Hermione turned and began gathering everything up. “Let’s go to your secret room,” she told Ginny quietly. “It’s the most private place I can think of to practice this spell.”
Numbly, Ginny helped her.
‘Hold on Harry,’ she called out desperately in her mind. ‘Thanks to Hermione, we have a chance to get you back. I’m coming to get you.’
***
Far away is a small dark place created inside his mind Harry jerked his head up. Had he imagined it or had he just heard Ginny’s voice?
After a moment or two of silence, Harry hung his head again, sweeping away the tears that fell silently down his cheeks. It couldn’t be Ginny.
Ginny was dead.
[A/N: Thanks to everyone for all the support, especially my beta Arnel and pre-betas. I’m glad I wasn’t flamed too badly for that last chapter. The next one is called “Found” and hopefully it will be coming to you next Friday. See you then!]
Chapter 24: Found
Disclaimer:The characters and situations of Harry Potter depicted in this story are the legal property of J.K. Rowling, Bloomsbury, and AOL Time Warner, and have been used without permission. No copyright infringement is intended.
No profit is being made off this story. It is for entertainment purposes only.
“Found”
It was a little after eleven o’clock when the group gathered out in the grounds near Hagrid’s hut to prepare. When Ron had come to find him with the news that Hermione had solved the puzzle box and that it might be a way to get Harry back, Stephen could scarcely believe it. He had read the prophecy about the Key summoning the Prince, but he couldn’t believe that he hadn’t put it all together himself. He had to hand it to Hermione Granger… she was one clever witch.
Stephen had immediately tried to locate Dumbledore, but the Headmaster seemed to have disappeared once again. He had been doing that more and more lately — disappearing without telling anyone where he was going or when he would return — but Stephen assumed that it was most likely related to Harry. If anything, Stephen thought Dumbledore was out tracking leads himself, working on a way of getting Harry back. In any case, he wasn’t here now and, according to Hermione, they had no time to lose; tonight was the last night of the full moon. If they didn’t perform the spell tonight they would have to wait another month before they could try again.
“What do you think will happen when Miss Weasley performs the spell?” he asked Hermione, knowing instinctively that she would have already researched it.
Hermione shrugged. “I’m not sure,” she answered uncertainly. “The box doesn’t say anything about what will happen after the spell is performed, only that it will summon him… and I found no reference to anything even remotely similar to it in any of the texts I’ve read.”
Stephen nodded his understanding as he examined the object thoroughly. “That’s because I didn’t give you the right books. This is a Motenehua Box… I’m sure of it,” he said, turning it over and examining the carvings underneath. “I have only heard of them, but I’ve never seen one,” he admitted. “The spell seems very simple… but that’s not unusual since most Mesoamerican spells aren’t very complicated, especially the old ones. Who did you say that Harry got this from?”
“He just said that he got it from some old lady in the market when he was on the island,” she said. “She insisted that he have it, but he gave it to me because he knew I’d enjoy the challenge of solving the puzzle.”
“What exactly is a Motenehua Box, Professor?” Ginny asked curiously. He was pleased to see her with some colour back in her cheeks, although she was still pale and thin.
“Roughly speaking, the word ‘motenehua’ means to call one’s name,” he explained. “The Mixtecs have a legend — an old folktale really — that says that a box similar to this one was given to Quetzalcoatl’s mate to call him back to the stars when she was about to give birth to their sons. At certain points in history it was common for a Mixtec man to give his wife a box like this on their wedding day. It could only be used during a time of great need to summon the husband. This box is amazingly detailed…” he said, looking it over with interest.
“What happens if Harry doesn’t come? And if he does show up, what happens if he’s all… hacked off in a really big way?” Ron asked, breaking him out of his musings.
Stephen looked up. “I think there’s a good possibility that if he shows up at all, he won’t be happy about it. But we have a secret weapon at our disposal,” he reminded them.
“You wouldn’t hurt him, would you Professor?” Ginny asked him, suddenly sounding afraid. She was holding together nicely, but it was obvious that she was in a lot of distress. Even so, she had a determined look on her face that Stephen hadn’t seen for a very long time.
Stephen shook his head. “Not if I can help it. No… I’m talking about you, Ginny. From what Severus said, there’s a good possibility that Harry thinks you’re dead. We need to prove to him that you’re alive and try to re-establish the connection between you.” He looked at them all carefully. “I’m afraid that I haven’t been very honest with you lot these past months. I haven’t told you everything that I know.”
“You mean about Harry… not being Harry anymore?” Hermione said carefully.
“Or about how he’s been taken over by that sodding bastard, Tom Riddle,” Ron added.
“And how he’s been using Harry’s power to hurt people… even kill them,” Ginny said quietly. “…How he’s locked Harry up inside his own mind where even I can’t get to him.”
Stephen couldn’t believe what he was hearing. “How long have you three known about all this?”
Ginny raised an eyebrow defiantly. “We’ve known since just after Harry was taken in October, but we’ve been keeping our eyes and ears open since for additional information.” She reached in her pocket and brought out a piece of long fleshy string. “Fred and George’s Extendable Ears,” she said. “…They come in very handy when people in your life want to keep things hidden from you ‘for your own good’.”
“We’re not children, Professor,” Ron told him without apology. “We’ve been hanging around Harry too long to be treated as such by you, or anyone else. Harry is our friend, and we did what we had to do in order to make sure we knew everything was being done to get him home.”
“We’re really sorry we had to eavesdrop,” Hermione told him, “but you didn’t leave us much of a choice.”
Hunter conceded; he knew he had not spared much time to keep them abreast of the situation. He was guilty of viewing them as mere children in this fight.
“I’m sorry,” he said. “I won’t make the mistake of underestimating you lot again. I should have learned my lesson about that with Harry, but I didn’t. However,” he said, checking the sky, “we are almost at midnight. I think we should table this discussion until afterwards, all right?”
They agreed. Hermione and Ron spread out and took positions behind a clump of trees while he and Ginny set the box on the ground and prepared to do the spell.
Ginny looked over at Hagrid’s darkened hut. “Where is Hagrid?” she asked as they waited for the right time. Stephen had the impression that she was trying to keep herself calm with idle conversation.
“I think Dumbledore said he’d be away for a few days,” Stephen said. “I’m not sure why, but I think it has something to do with his brother.”
“It’s a shame,” Ginny said quietly. “Harry really loves Hagrid. I know he’d like to see him…”
Stephen put his hand on Ginny’s shoulder comfortingly. “He will see him soon,” he reassured her. “I just know that this is going to work.”
Ginny nodded silently and then turned her eyes back towards the waiting box.
“Do you know what to do?” Stephen asked her. “Do you remember the correct pronunciation?”
“Yes.” She drew her wand, not taking her eyes from the box. It seemed to be entrancing her, which Stephen took as a good sign.
“Just tap the box and say the incantation when I say it’s time,” he said, checking his watch and then the sky. It’s almost time…” He paused and then said, “On the count of three, Ginny… One… two… wait!”
A cloud had moved over the moon. Nervously, Stephen checked his watch. They still had 30 seconds…
It seemed to take forever but the dark cloud gracefully slid out of the way. At the last possible second Stephen shouted, “Now!”
“Notza Nican Nimanic!” she said clearly as she tapped the box three times with her wand.
A brilliant green radiance seemed to erupt from the box. It shot up in the air and bathed the clearing in emerald light. On the other side of the box a bright white circle was forming, like a portal of some kind. Stephen held his breath as a figure stepped deliberately through the opening.
He was dressed in a black cloak that flowed around his ankles and covered his head. As soon as the portal had closed, he whipped the hood off and turned his head in all directions, searching… his wand drawn. Stephen gripped his own wand tightly. The green light was distracting the figure for now, but any second he would see them as it faded into nothingness. Stephen only had time to shove Ginny behind him before Harry spotted them.
His lips curled in a half smile, half sneer.
Stephen drew a breath at how pale Harry’s skin was against the backdrop of the black robes and the black shock of messy hair. He wasn’t wearing glasses anymore, and he looked taller… like he had grown a few inches in the eight months he had disappeared. The healthy tan he had gotten on the island was gone, but he had filled out in other ways. Still not as tall as Stephen or even Ron, he was solid and muscular. There was nothing boyish about him anymore at all — he was a man, with a man’s command of the situation and showing absolutely no fear whatsoever. The expression on his face was one of annoyance, and when he turned his red eyes on them they were angry.
The thing in Harry’s body laughed. “I was wondering how long it would take,” he said in a cold but amused voice. “I knew you’d catch up with us eventually, Hunter, but I have had quite a lot of fun staying one step ahead of you all these months. You’re losing your touch, I believe.”
Stephen stood tall. He recognized the voice of Voldemort coming from Harry’s body and had to remind himself that he couldn’t hurt Harry in order to exact his revenge on the monster that had held him captive for two weeks and tortured him repeatedly then murdered his family — an innocent woman whose life goal had been to heal people and an infant child. He deserved to die ten torturous deaths for every innocent life he had taken.
“We’ll see about that,” he told the creature darkly. He held Ginny fast with one hand behind him out of sight and trained his wand on Harry, his body rigid but alert. “I’m here to bring Harry home, Voldemort. It’s time for you to leave.”
The creature frowned at the callous way that Stephen used his name but did not comment. Instead he cocked an eyebrow questioningly. “Come now Stephen… you know that’s never going to happen. The boy belongs to me now, and I’ve grown quite used to inhabiting this body. It is a regular power conduit. The Potter boy has always been a nuisance and I would have preferred to kill him outright, but his body was too valuable to destroy. He hasn’t seemed to mind much, really. He’s been quite… distracted.”
“I bet he has,” Stephen said angrily. “You tricked him into thinking that the woman he loves was dead, and then you convinced him to lower his Occlumency shield. That’s appalling… but just your style.”
“What can I say?” he said, unabashed. “The boy is weak when it comes to his feelings. I’ve never been ruled by my emotions — they just get in the way. But Harry is different, and you certainly can’t blame me for preying on my enemy’s blatant weakness. It’s what you would do in my place, isn’t it Hunter?”
Stephen felt the anger rise in his chest. “Unlike you, I’d never stoop to something so low!”
“Wouldn’t you?” the thing inside Harry’s body said with a sneer. “I understand that your past isn’t as squeaky clean as you would like Dumbledore to believe. My informants tell me that you’ve been walking a very thin line these past years.”
“That’s a lie!” Stephen yelled in rage. “I may have come close, but I never crossed the line.”
Harry’s face reflected a knowing smirk. “Tell that to Lucius Malfoy. He shared some amazing artefacts with me that you recovered. He tells me he paid you handsomely for the recovery of some of the more controversial items. I have to say that I was surprised that the Ministry’s golden boy would taint himself with such Dark objects, but it just goes to show how people can surprise you. Take Harry, for instance.” He held up a hand and displayed the bands there that allowed him to perform wandless magic. “I had no idea that he was hiding such delicious secrets. It makes me wonder what else that little island has to offer me.”
“You stay away from there Voldemort, or I’ll-”
“You’ll what, Hunter?” Voldemort laughed. “I’m not even here, remember?” He waved a hand over Harry’s body. “This is all an illusion. It is a mere vessel, and if I chose to end the boy’s life now the real me would still be out there, laughing at your stupidity.”
Stephen felt Ginny jerk. “You’re nothing but a sick monster!” she yelled, wrenching out of Stephen’s grasp and sidestepping him as he tried to pull her back. She advanced on the creature menacingly, her eyes flashing. “You were a monster at sixteen, and now you’re beyond reproach!” she said scathingly.
Harry’s face registered surprise. Stephen thought he saw something flicker inside the red eyes, but it could have been his imagination because immediately the bravado was back on Harry’s face as the monster inside regained control.
***
Harry had grown used to watching what was happening outside his body. Since Voldemort had taken over, the snake liked to torment him by giving him glimpses of what his body was doing. Mostly it was like a grey veil over his eyes when it happened, and the things he saw were terrible. They made him want to retch and scream in rage, but he couldn’t do any of those things. It was dreadful seeing what the snake was seeing, hearing what the snake was hearing. The worst part was knowing that he didn’t have control over his own body.
The only time he ever had the strength to fight back was when the snake was about to do something really terrible, like kill an innocent person. Once, the snake had raised his wand to kill a Muggle child. Harry had surprised himself and Voldemort by causing him to miss. It had shaken Voldemort so much that he had never tried to kill an innocent again using Harry’s body. Harry, himself, had revelled in his small victory until Voldemort had sent him image after image of Ginny’s dead body, making him weaker than he had been before.
The next time Voldemort raised his wand to another person he had let Harry see, probably to test him. He had killed an insurgent in his ranks, a Death Eater who was trying to gain some power for himself, bragging overconfidently about killing the Dark Lord and becoming the new leader. Harry had watched from inside his prison as Voldemort used his body to kill this Death Eater — he could feel the magic forming inside his body, and he was powerless to stop it. Some part of him was even glad the man was dead, just like he’d felt with Wormtail. Death Eaters weren’t innocents; they had made their choice, and they certainly didn’t spark the ability for Harry to take back some control like innocent Muggles and children did. He only had so much strength left in him, and Harry had decided early on that he would save it up for special circumstances — to do what he could to save innocent lives. He refused to allow his body to be used to kill an innocent person, especially a child. Now that Ginny was gone, it was the only thing he could seem to care about… the only thing worth holding on to.
Ginny.
The snake had lied about helping Ginny. That was what made Harry the angriest — what tortured him the most. The monster had promised to help Ginny, but once he’d gotten into Harry’s mind, he’d let Ginny die. Without her to go home to, Harry wasn’t sure he even wanted to live anymore. He had opened the door willingly to save her life, and it had been for nothing. His sacrifice had been pointless, and he had fallen into the Shadow — just like the prophecy had foretold.
The Shadow… He now knew why the Ancient Ones had said it was his greatest weakness, why they had warned him to stay away from it and not fall victim to it. The Shadow was horrible — so horrible that it defied description. It was the most awful place Harry had ever been or could ever dream up, the place where nightmares formed and despair ruled. It was the room inside his mind that contained every bad thing he knew about the world and himself but could not escape from — the part of his mind that Dementors were drawn to and why they affected him more than others. To Harry, it felt like one of the creatures had taken up permanent residence in his mind, and he was powerless to perform a Patroness to drive it away.
The snake had been making a personal appearance to a cell of Death Eaters in London when the call had come. It sounded like phoenix song, and when Harry heard it his heart immediately surged with hope. Like a magnet, the song drew his body towards a portal that appeared suddenly out of nowhere. The snake had tried to fight the call at first, but not even he could ignore it. The magic of the call had been very strong, and it had forced the snake to step through the portal that appeared even though he didn’t want to.
Inside the Shadow, Harry kept his mind alert for any possibility. Whatever had called him here could do his body harm. The snake, too, was on edge. He instinctively felt this as a threat of some kind; he was afraid of it, and this pleased Harry greatly.
As soon as the green light had faded, Harry was aware of Stephen’s presence and his heart sang with relief. Finally… someone had come to help him. The question was did he want to be saved?
Stephen and the snake exchanged words… both were angry.
Then Harry’s world flipped upside down. Ginny flew out from behind Stephen and Harry’s heart hit the floor. The shock of seeing Ginny alive and well, her eyes flashing fire and her hair billowing around her shoulders like an angel, was surreal. She flew at the snake with venom. Harry tried to meet her halfway, but the snake held him firmly in his grasp — Voldemort wasn’t giving him up that easily.
Even so, Harry’s heart cried out in relief. Ginny was alive!
And then he got angry.
***
Ginny couldn’t stand listening to Tom talk from Harry’s mouth anymore. She rushed out from behind Stephen and began spouting off before she even thought about the consequences of such an action. Now, here in front of Tom and looking into Harry’s impassive face, she realised how foolish she had been.
Harry smiled, but it such an un-Harry smile that it caused her to want to step back from him in fear. Stubbornly, she held her ground.
“So… we meet again Ginny Weasley,” he said in that same overconfident voice that he had used last summer when he had been flitting in and out of Harry’s body. The difference was that this time Ginny didn’t feel Harry inside at all, and that scared her more than anything.
“What have you done with Harry?” she demanded angrily, her jaw set in a stubborn clench. “I know he’s in there, and I want him back,” she practically growled.
“Oh, he’s still around,” the beast agreed with a sneer. “But I’m not sure you want him back after being where he’s been.” He took out Harry’s wand and began twirling it between is fingers idly.
Rage bubbled up in her chest at his callousness. That was her Harry he was talking about. Her worst fears had been confirmed. She had hoped that her nightmares had been just that — nightmares. But it seemed that it had been the real Harry she had been trying to connect with during those times, although she had failed to make contact.
Then she felt something that gave her pause. It was just a flicker — only a tiny flicker but she felt him. Harry — the real Harry was inside the beast and trying to make contact with her. It had been so long since she’s felt him and she knew that no matter what happened, Harry was suddenly determined to come back to her today.
She tamped down her anger and tried to keep her emotions impassive. “Tell me, Tom,” she said knowing that he loved to gloat about his accomplishments. He might have changed in a lot of ways from the sixteen year old that she had known, but she knew from Harry that not everything about him had changed. He still couldn’t resist letting others know how clever he was, and that might give her the chance that she needed to grab hold of Harry and pull him out. “How did you manage to get Harry? However you did it, you were very clever. Only a very powerful wizard could have pulled it off.”
Tom looked at her shrewdly like he knew what she was trying to do, but unbelievably he answered. “I am the most powerful wizard on this planet, am I not? Don’t be foolish, girl, and try to play games with me.” He stepped closer to her — so close that she could feel his breath tickle her cheek. In an almost seductive whisper so that only she could hear he said, “I see now what the boy sees in you, Ginny Weasley. You are something extraordinary, aren’t you? Most witches would have quailed in fear by now just at the mere thought of me, but you stand here toe-to-toe, challenging me. I find that most… intriguing.”
She felt paralyzed with fear. Still standing close, he reached up and touched her face with a cold finger, and Ginny fought the urge to throw up. “There’s something special about you, isn’t there?” he continued to whisper. “I can feel it. It’s more than just your bond with Harry. There’s something else inside of you… something that makes you... mine.”
Ginny shivered, locked in the embrace of his eyes. Flashes of her first year at Hogwarts came back to her, and he seemed to take it all in — every last emotion and feeling and memory.
“You wrote in my diary,” he said quietly, understanding permeating his voice. “I knew that Lucius had given it to you, of course, but I was under the impression that it was destroyed.”
Fear course through her body at the words. It was like he was exposing a secret of hers — a terrible secret that she had kept from everyone — even herself. But she had a job to do, and she willed her mind to focus on her mission. Making a deliberate choice to ignore the monster inhabiting Harry’s brain for now, she concentrated on Harry. At that thought, she felt some of her terror ebb away.
‘If you can hear me Harry,’ she sent to him with everything she had, ‘I’m coming. It’s really me — I’m not dead. I’m your Ginny. It was all a trick, Harry, and it’s time for you to get your arse out of there. You need to fight like you’re never fought before! ’
Unbelievably, she felt another flicker and then a pulling sensation, like something was trying to latch on to her mind. Without planning it, she grabbed Voldemort and smashed her lips to his. In shock, he tried to fight her off, but it was like a magnet pulling them together. The physical contact was more than he could stand, and the love that Ginny poured into Harry’s body was like poison to the snake, causing him to writhe in pain and fight her embrace. Ginny tightened her grip on Harry’s connection and anchored him, hoping that he was strong enough to sense her there supporting him. All the while her mind battled the snake, which tried to strike and bite at her, screaming in pain as its efforts were rebuffed. Soon the snake stopped fighting Ginny’s advances and amazingly seemed to succumb to the feelings roiling between them. As the kiss deepened, the magic inside Harry’s body intensified and the connection between the real Harry and Ginny grew stronger, pushing out the presence of Voldemort.
As Harry fought to come back, the snake’s hold on Harry’s mind began to fade. Soon Ginny found herself in Harry’s consciousness, like she had before when she had helped Harry repair his broken wall. It was foggy inside, heavy with a black mist that seemed to be dulling her senses, but she focused her attention on the connection. Soon the light was pouring off of her, pushing away the darkness. The snake gave one last hiss of rage, and then his presence was all but gone.
Suddenly, she was back in her own body, still locked in the kiss and amazingly, Harry was there kissing her back. She felt him emerge from his own mind like a flower blossoming, and she met him with a ferocity that both surprised and delighted her. It was like coming home after a long time away, and she welcomed him with open arms, almost crying with the intensity and the rush of feelings flooding her senses.
He was back! Harry was home!
***
Harry was angry now. Once he decided to fight, he focused all his energy into fighting his way out of the blackness and into the light of Ginny’s love which suddenly seemed to be all around him. It was like she had thrown him a thousand ropes, and all he had to do was choose one and hoist himself out of the pit. He no longer felt weak or powerless; in fact, the power was bubbling up inside of him now. It started in his chest and radiated up to where he was, giving him more and more strength and power until he felt like he was practically bursting with energy. Desperately, the snake fought him back, trying to push him back down into the pit, but he clawed his way out inch by inch until he was standing in his own body for the first time in months, tasting Ginny’s sweet kiss of life. The snake gave one last angry hiss, and then he was gone. They were alone.
He opened his eyes and there she was, only this time it wasn’t a mirage… it wasn’t a trick. She was really here holding him, and she was alive.
In an instant, the horror of the time he’d spent in the Shadow came back to him, and he slumped on the ground like a broken doll, aching for the loss of contact but not feeling clean enough to touch her. He felt tainted, touched by evil, and he couldn’t bear to corrupt her with the darkness that still billowed through his soul. Voldemort had retreated for now, wounded by Ginny’s assault, but Harry had a feeling he’d be back soon. He didn’t want Ginny to be anywhere around him when the beast came to claim him. For all he knew, Ginny might get sucked in there with him, and he couldn’t chance that. She was the light in his darkness, his beacon of hope. If she got pulled back in with him, they’d both be stuck. It was enough just to look at her, alive and well, and to feel her closeness.
She seemed hurt by his retreat, but there was also fear and understanding. Compassion.
“Harry?” she said tentatively, reaching out to touch him.
Instinctively, he jerked away. Words wouldn’t form in his mouth; he hadn’t talked to anyone in so long, and it was like he had forgotten how.
Eventually, he was aware of other presences around him. They were both familiar and comforting but painful at the same time. Stephen was there, and Ron and Hermione. They tried to approach him, but he scrambled away and huddled at the base of a nearby tree.
“What’s wrong with him?” he heard Hermione whisper to Stephen in alarm.
He couldn’t hear Stephen’s response, but his mind imagined the answer. Stephen probably sensed the darkness in him too and was trying to warn them to stay away. Harry looked around wildly, his eyes wide with terror. He had to get out of here… he had to get away from them before the snake came back.
Gently, he felt a tap on his mind, and he flinched. He didn’t fear it because he knew it was Ginny, but he fought an internal battle with himself between wanting to push her away and wanting to pull her closer. The result was that he stopped looking for an escape and stilled.
‘Its okay, Harry,’ he heard her say lovingly. ‘No one is going to hurt you any more.’
‘Stay away!’ he thought back, his mind in unnerved overdrive. He tried to calm his emotions, but he knew the panic and pain was evident on his face because he felt it right down to his very bones. He moved just a tiny bit further away but resisted the urge to run. ‘Stay back, Ginny. I might hurt you. Voldemort…’
‘He’s gone, Harry,’ Ginny said gently, creeping towards him slowly. ‘I sent him away, and I’m not going to let him come back, love. I won’t leave your mind until you’re strong enough to fight him on your own. We’re going to build that wall again and make it so strong that you will never have to worry about him breaking through it, no matter how much he tries. Remember what Professor Hunter told us? I’m your strength. Together, we are strong enough to do anything.’
She was right in front of him now. Tentatively, she reached out a shaking hand to touch his cheek. Harry felt the feather-light touch and shivered. He wanted to believe her so much.
‘Trust me, Harry,’ she said with her mind, reaching out her other hand for him. Patiently she waited, witness to all the emotions jumbling through him.
Finally, he came to a decision. Ginny was here, she was alive, and she was reaching out to him. If he didn’t take this chance now he’d be lost forever, and he couldn’t bear the thought of going back to the Shadow — of living without her. Frantically, he searched his mind but found no sign of the snake lurking there, ready to pounce on him or on Ginny. Slowly, painstakingly slowly, he raised his hand and grasped hers. At the contact, Harry felt their hearts join and beat in unison; he did feel stronger, and he realised that the closer they got, the better he felt.
She helped him to his feet. He staggered, but she supported him and he was soon righted. Together, they made their way toward the school and the hospital wing, the others trailing behind them, silent and concerned.
They had done the impossible; he was home, but nothing was resolved. Harry looked up into the sky and felt the Darkness searching for him. Voldemort was still out there, and the Dark wouldn’t rest; it would always be there waiting for its opportunity to reclaim him. He turned away and leaned into Ginny, shivering despite the warm night air.
This battle may have been won, but he knew that there was a greater battle coming — one that would decide the fate of the world. The question was would he be strong enough to do what needed to be done in order to defeat the Enemy forever?
[A/N: Thanks to my support team for helping me get this ready in time for a Friday publication. Arnel — you’re wonderful, and a good friend. Melinda — what would I do without you? Christine, my comma guru — you are the best cheerleader on the net. Dan — you’re insight and advice is proving invaluable. Casey — I know you didn’t see this one in advance, but I still value your opinion so keep giving it. To everyone who reviewed — thank you SO much. I didn’t have time to reply this time to individual reviews AND make my deadline, but I read every one and they really kept me motivated.
Next chapter is called “Reconnecting.” I am going to try to have it by next week, but I’m out of pre-written chapters and this last one was almost not finished in time. That means that there are no guarantees, but I will do my best. The new chapter was just begun, and I’ve only gotten about three pages written so far. I’d love to skip a week and try to get caught up to a point where I’m more comfortable (three chapters ahead is good, two would be okay, or even one ahead would be nice) and not so rushed, but I also know that I committed to Friday updates. I’m trying to stick by my word, but I don’t want to rush them so we’ll just see how it pans out. So, until next time (hopefully Friday)! *waves* Goodbye for now, and thanks for reading.]
Chapter 25: Reconnecting
Disclaimer:The characters and situations of Harry Potter depicted in this story are the legal property of J.K. Rowling, Bloomsbury, and AOL Time Warner, and have been used without permission. No copyright infringement is intended.
No profit is being made off this story. It is for entertainment purposes only.
“Reconnecting”
The hospital wing was deserted when they arrived, dark and quiet.
“Take him over there, Ginny,” Stephen said. “I’ll go wake Madame Pomfrey.” He hurried off without a backwards glance.
Ginny did as she was instructed and helped a dazed Harry to the nearest bed.
He wasn’t so out of it that he didn’t notice Ron and Hermione hanging back, whispering fiercely with each other and casting him worried glances, but Harry ignored them. He clutched Ginny’s hand, grateful for the connection but otherwise kept her at arms length. She seemed to accept this and didn’t push.
It was hard to describe how he was feeling — the closest thing that came to it was numb. He lay down on the bed impassively, still fully clothed, trying to clear his mind by focusing on a spot on the ceiling.
He could tell that his silence was troubling the others; it was leaving a sense of uneasiness hanging in the air. So far he had spoken to no one but Ginny through their mind link, and honestly he had no desire to talk. His senses were so overwhelmed right now that no words seemed to cover what he was thinking. The words refused to form in his mouth and he couldn’t look any of them in the eye, either. It was frustrating for them, he could tell, but he just couldn’t muster the energy to care.
Ron shuffled nervously. “Good to have you back, mate,” he said in a squeaky voice.
Harry’s eyes drifted over to him, but he didn’t know how to respond. Was it good to be back? He couldn’t decide.
“Can I get you anything?” Ginny asked anxiously. “A drink of water, or something from the kitchens, maybe?
He shook his head but otherwise didn’t acknowledge her.
“How about some more light,” Hermione suggested. “It’s really dark in here.”
Panic shot through Harry at her words, but before he could stop her, she had said the incantation and bright light filled the room.
Involuntarily, Harry’s body reacted — the bright light was too much. His heart pounded painfully in his chest and he tried to scramble away from the brightness, wildly fighting to find a place where he could hide. The end result was that he jerked away from Ginny, flew off the bed, and dove underneath it. Like a child trying to escape punishment, he hid under the bed, hugging his drawn up knees tightly and burying his head on top of them to escape the harsh light.
“Turn it off!” he heard Ginny scream from afar. “Can’t you see it’s frightening him?”
He felt Stephen’s presence again along with Madame Pomfrey’s. Someone dimmed the lights and he felt his breathing begin to return to normal.
“Out!” she shouted to all of them, even Stephen. “All of you! I need to examine my patient, and you’ll all need to wait in the hall. Now shoo!”
He felt all of them leave hesitantly one by one — all but Ginny.
“You too, Miss Weasley,” Madame Pomfrey said firmly, and he felt her disappointment, but acceptance.
The idea of Ginny leaving him alone scared him almost as much as the light and he raised his hand to stop her.
‘No!’
Ginny froze. From his position on the floor he couldn’t see her face but he could see her feet, and they stopped moving in mid-stride.
“Well?” Madame Pomfrey said in her usual snappy voice. “What are you waiting for, child? I said you need to leave.”
“Umm…” he heard Ginny say. “I don’t think I can.” Her voice was slightly worried, but slightly amused, too.
“Of course you can,” the nurse said, moving towards her. There was a pause, and then Harry heard her surprised exclamation.
“I seem to be stuck,” Ginny said helplessly.
Harry felt the magic form to try and undo the spell but he sent his own magic out to block it.
“It’s not working,” Ginny stated, earning an exasperated sigh from the matron.
“I can see that, Miss Weasley,” she said sharply. Bending down, she pulled the coverlet up to expose Harry huddled under the bed. Her face took on a measure of shock that quickly softened. “All right, Mr. Potter,” she conceded. “If you’d like her to stay, then I suppose that’s what we’ll do. Could you release her now, or will I have to sedate you?”
Harry knew it was a bluff; there was no way that the nurse could sedate him if he didn’t want to be sedated. But he was pleased that Ginny had gotten the green light to stay, so he waved his hand and released her.
Ginny bent down to look at him too, her eyes twinkling. “Thank you,” she mouthed gratefully behind Madame Pomfrey’s back.
He didn’t answer but offered her a tentative smile.
“Now, let’s get you out from under there, shall we?” Madame Pomfrey said with a sigh.
Ginny offered him a hand and he took it, scooting out from underneath the bed. The hospital wing was much more comfortable now. The lights had been dimmed to a low setting that allowed the nurse to see but didn’t make him panicky.
“Into those pyjamas,” the nurse said indicating the striped outfit neatly folded on the bed. Harry fiddled with the pyjamas nervously as Madam Pomfrey pulled a screen around the bed. “We’ll give you some privacy to change. Miss Weasley will help you settle into bed when you’re ready. I’ll be in the hall speaking with Professor Hunter, but I’ll be back shortly for your examination.”
Harry nodded his understanding. She gave him an odd look, but didn’t linger to ask him why he wasn’t speaking. Grateful for the distraction, he took off the unfamiliar black cloak and the clothes underneath, slipping on the familiar pyjamas he had worn during his various trips to the hospital wing over the years. As soon as he was finished, he pushed the screen away and Ginny helped him get comfortable in the bed.
“This seems familiar,” Ginny mused, echoing his thoughts out loud. She fluffed his pillow and helped him adjust the bed so that he was sitting up rather than lying down. “I bet you thought you were going to escape the hospital wing this year, didn’t you, Potter?”
Harry made a face, then offered her a half-smile. He leaned back in the bed and drank in her image as he watched her pull a chair up from nearby. Soon she was close enough to hold his hand again.
‘You look…beautiful,’ he said sadly, his heart filled with regret at how much time they had spent apart.
“Well, you’re a right mess,” she countered with a grin.
Her good mood was infectious and Harry felt his burden lighten just a bit. Harry was about to retort when the door opened and Hagrid rushed in — or tried to, at least.
“’Arry! Yer back!” Hagrid’s excited, gruff voice exclaimed from the doorway.
Hagrid was rewarded with Madame Pomfrey’s screech of, “OUT! Rubeus Hagrid, you get OUT of this infirmary this instant! I haven’t even had a chance to examine my patient yet!” He continued to wave at Harry enthusiastically from the doorway as the nurse hustled him through the door.
“I’ll be back ‘Arry! Don’t ya worry none, I’ll be right out here,” he yelled over his shoulder just before the door was slammed behind him.
Harry just looked at the door impassively. He was glad to see Hagrid, but he really wasn’t in the mood to answer questions about where he had been. At that thought, everything about the past months came crashing back down on him and he turned on his side away from Ginny and stared at the wall. He felt Madame Pomfrey come over to his bedside and hover there for a minute, but he didn’t turn around even when she said it was time for his examination.
Quietly, Madame Pomfrey asked Ginny to step away from the bed and then pulled the screen around them for privacy. “I’m just going to run my wand over you now, Mr. Potter, to see if everything is as it should be,” she said gently. “Turn over on you back, please.”
Harry turned obediently and stared up at the darkened ceiling feeling a sense of disjointedness with his body as she examined him.
“Hmm...” she murmured when she was finished. “Nothing out of place, nothing much out of the ordinary… In fact, you’re in quite good health.” She looked at him wryly. “I suppose we can be grateful for that, can’t we? I do detect lingering traces of Dark Magic, but I can’t identify the source. How do you feel, Mr. Potter?”
Harry just stared at her silently, his face void of emotion. How the bloody hell was he supposed to answer that? He noticed a troubled look flit across her face at his prolonged silence, but she quickly schooled her features.
“Yes… well, I think a Dreamless Sleep Potion will do wonders for you,” she said faltering slightly. “I’m sure Miss Weasley will keep you company while I prepare it.” She pushed the screen away and motioned for Ginny to come back.
Harry felt his chest tighten painfully at her words. The last thing he wanted to do was succumb to the darkness of his own mind. What if Voldemort got to Ginny while he was asleep? They would make Ginny leave and he couldn’t protect her… He tried to protest, but his voice wouldn’t work. Frustrated, he lashed out with his magic and a glass water pitcher on a nearby table shattered causing the nurse to jump in frightened shock.
“Its okay, Harry,” Ginny said gently soothing him. “I’m right here and I’m not leaving you. I’ll be here when you wake up, love. I promise.” She turned to Madame Pomfrey. “He’s afraid something will happen to me if he’s asleep and unable to wake up. He doesn’t want me to leave.”
Madame Pomfrey looked like she wanted to protest — to say that it was highly unusual for a patient to have visitors all night in her infirmary — but she clamped her mouth shut and pursed her lips into a thin line. Finally, she nodded as if making up her mind. “Miss Weasley may stay for now, but I insist on the Dreamless Sleep Potion. You need your rest.” She turned on her heel and bustled away in her no-nonsense manner.
Harry knew it was a lost cause, but he was grateful all the same that she had agreed to let Ginny stay. He felt himself relax a bit, reaching up to grab Ginny’s hand again. The contact felt extremely good. She shot him a dose of her special soothing feelings through their connection which was still running wide open, and his body seemed to uncoil even more.
“Are you hungry?” she asked him.
He shook his head. The thought of food made him feel sick. Besides, his body told him that it hadn’t been that long since he’s eaten, although he couldn’t remember what he’d had. His eyes drifted off to the wall, staring at it blankly, but his grip tightened even more on Ginny’s hand.
He felt her lips graze his knuckles, sending warm feelings through his body, but he didn’t turn to look at her again. His mind had begun to recall images of things the snake had done, and the nausea roiled in his stomach. How could he have allowed himself to be duped so badly? He was such an idiot! Voldemort was an expert liar — he had known that. He shifted restlessly.
“Don’t blame yourself, Harry,” Ginny’s muffled voice admonished firmly. She had her mouth buried in his hand and he felt her breath tickle it as she talked. “This wasn’t your fault.”
Harry wanted to scream and protest that it was his fault, but he feared letting his temper get out of control. For some reason, his magic seemed to be especially strong right now, and he wasn’t sure what the consequences would be if he lost control of it. Thankfully, Madame Pomfrey came back just then with his potion, distracting him.
“Bottom’s up, Mr. Potter,” she instructed. “You know the drill.”
Harry did as he was told and, before he knew it, his eyes were drooping heavily. The last thing he saw as he drifted off into a peaceful, dreamless night’s sleep was Ginny’s worried face staring at him. She had such heartbreaking love shining on her face that it made him wonder if things wouldn’t work out after all. He had been given a miracle tonight, and he didn’t intend to waste it.
***
Stephen shuffled his feet impatiently, waiting for Harry to open his eyes. It had been a long night for them all. Ginny had stayed by Harry’s side, sleeping in an extra bed beside Harry’s. Stephen had paced nervously out in the hallway with Ron Weasley and Hermione Granger, waiting for news. When it came, it was better than expected but grim, nevertheless.
Harry had been severely traumatized by his time in captivity. Although he was physically in good shape, he was in a great deal of mental distress. This was not a surprise; they had seen his reaction to being touched on the school grounds, and they had seen how he had reacted to the light. Hermione had practically done a house-elf on them in the hallway after that debacle. She blamed herself for her insensitivity, although both he and Ron had tried to make her see that there was no way she could have known Harry would react that way just from turning on some lights.
As Stephen stared at the two forms sleeping on separate beds, he was grateful that Ginny at least had been there for Harry. Whatever he had been through, Harry still reacted positively to Ginny, and that was a good thing.
The early morning sun was beginning to rise in the horizon, but the effect had been muted with a tinting charm on the windows. As he stared out at the new spring day replaying the events of the last few months, the door opened and the commanding figure of Albus Dumbledore strode tiredly through the threshold. Dumbledore’s eyes sought out and found Stephen’s and they exchanged a wealth in information in that one glance.
“How is he?” Dumbledore asked quietly, his gaze shifting to the still sleeping form on the hospital bed.
Stephen sighed. “He’s not talking,” he told him, frustration edging his voice.
Dumbledore nodded. “Harry has never been one to discuss his feelings. He tends to hold everything inside and put on a brave front, even when he is obviously in pain.”
Stephen shook his head sadly. “No, Albus. I mean he’s literally not talking. He hasn’t said anything to anyone, even when asked a direct question. There are other signs of trauma, too.” Stephen looked over towards the bed, avoiding Dumbledore’s alarmed expression. “He’s scared. Wherever he’s been all this time hasn’t been good. The only one he responds to is Ginny.”
Dumbledore patted Stephen’s arm comfortingly. “There is hope, then,” he said as both pairs of eyes drifted towards the sleeping red-head. “Please keep me apprised of the situation. I have some matters to attend to but I will be in my office, should you need me. Please tell Harry…” He paused and looked over at the sleeping form. “…Tell him that I wish him well, and that I will call on him later.”
Stephen nodded his understanding and watched the old wizard leave, closing the doors silently behind him, lost in thought.
A moan roused him, and he turned instinctively to Harry’s bed. The sound wasn’t coming from Harry. Ginny’s face was screwed up tightly, as if she was in pain. She jerked her head to the side but did not open her eyes; obviously she was having a nightmare. Concerned, he moved closer to the bed but, before he could wake her, Harry had shot up, wide awake. In a flash Harry had thrown the bed-sheets off himself and had moved to Ginny’s side, his face worried and pinched. Gently the boy slid into the bed beside Ginny, stroking her face and hair until she had quieted down. He did this all without saying a word or making a sound. Stephen wasn’t even sure Harry knew he wasn’t alone; he didn’t turn in Stephen’s direction or acknowledge him in any way.
But obviously Harry had known Stephen was there. When Ginny was fast asleep again, Harry looked up strait into Stephen’s eyes, and they weren’t surprised to see him. Stephen almost took a step back from the intensity of Harry’s gaze.
Harry didn’t smile or attempt to speak; he just looked up with a perceptive expression. In that instant Stephen was sure Harry had known all along that he was not alone. Harry stared at him expectantly, waiting for Stephen to say something. The way the boy was watching him made Stephen feel uncomfortable — like he was looking at someone much older than sixteen. No sixteen-year-old should ever have such knowledge behind their eyes.
Stephen stepped forward awkwardly. “How are you feeling this morning, Quetzal?”
His question was met with silence, but Stephen’s keen eyes picked up on Harry’s confusion at the question.
He sat down on the edge of the bed opposite Harry, his hands in the pockets of his robes. “I suppose that’s a stupid question, isn’t it? Of course you don’t know how you’re feeling.” He and Harry watched each other warily for a minute until Stephen’s senses became aware of something cool and hard in his pocket. He pulled it out, realising what it was — Harry’s phoenix pendent.
They both looked at it in surprise. “I forgot I had this,” Stephen said absently. “I picked it up off the ground in the park the night you… disappeared.” He held it out for Harry to take. “You should have it back. It might help you.”
Harry stared at the pendent for a moment pensively, and then reached out to take it from him. His eyes seemed to be saying thank you.
“You’re welcome,” Stephen answered. As Harry put the necklace around his neck Stephen took the opportunity to say something he’d wanted to say for a long time.
“Professor Dumbledore was here earlier,” he told him, noticing how Harry seemed to hear everything being said and react appropriately to it. At least he understood what people were saying to him — another good sign. “He said to tell you that he wishes you well and that he will call on you later.”
Harry clutched the pendent in his hand tightly and nodded his understanding. A long silence stretched between them and then Stephen could stand it no longer.
“I’m sorry I failed you, Quetzal,” he blurted out.
Harry looked up quickly, his brow furrowed. Stephen couldn’t believe it, but it looked like he was trying to disagree with him.
“I should never have left you alone that night. I should have been there… I should have known something was off-”
His voice cut off abruptly as a wave of magic unlike anything he had ever felt before washed over him. It was powerful and beautiful, like a song, and it was coming from Harry. His eyes were focused on Stephen and he seemed to be trying to tell him to stop blaming himself.
Stephen staggered up off the bed but Harry’s eyes and his magic followed him. “Stop doing that,” he said forcefully. “Whether you know it or not, you should be angry with me — I’m supposed to be your protector and I failed you!”
Harry’s mouth opened and it was apparent that he wanted to say something. His face flushed with frustration and then Stephen felt the familiar mind invasion of Legilimency on the edge of his consciousness and willingly let him in.
‘It was my choice — my decision,’ was the clear response. ‘This isn’t you’re fault.’
Stephen looked at Harry in shock. He shouldn’t be able to do that — Legilimency wasn’t a form of mental telepathy, only a means to enter someone’s mind and extract emotions or memories. Then again, Harry had a habit of breaking all the laws of magic, so why was he surprised?
Harry was still staring at him with those vivid green eyes that looked so much brighter than normal, probably because they were no longer hidden behind the round spectacles. Without warning, Stephen had the urge to run away… to hide from those eyes that seemed to see right through him, all the way to his soul.
Abruptly, he stood, moving towards the door. “You—you should rest a bit,” he stammered awkwardly. “When Madame Pomfrey agrees, we’re going to move you to the Hideout until you’re ready to face the rest of the school and deal with the fallout from the last eight months.”
Harry didn’t comment, but continued to stared at him unblinkingly, the confusion on his face palpable.
Stephen knew he didn’t deserve Harry’s compassion or forgiveness and he didn’t feel up to having this conversation anymore, so he did the cowardly thing and fled. “I’ve got to go see to my classes…” he said lamely, even though he knew it was a lie. “I’ll be back to see you later.”
***
Harry wasn’t sure what had just happened, but it was disconcerting to see Stephen leave so abruptly. He couldn’t believe that Stephen was blaming himself for what Harry viewed as his own stupidity. It didn’t make sense. Clearly, no one was at fault here except him — he alone had the blame for this one and he knew it.
Underneath him, Ginny stirred, drawing his attention back to why he was in Ginny’s bed in the first place. He couldn’t explain how he knew she was having a bad dream, but his eyes had barely opened and he just knew she was in distress. He hadn’t even stopped to think — he had just reacted. Ginny’s dream had obviously been a bad one, but thankfully she was calmer now. He hated to think of her living through another one of those Chamber nightmares he had witnessed last summer, but he suspected that Ginny’s worst dreams were no longer centred around what Tom had done to her when she was eleven. If he was a betting man he’d say they had everything to do with him, and what had happened last night before he had managed to push Tom out of his mind. He had a vague recollection of standing close to Ginny and feeling her fear, but he couldn’t remember what had been said.
…Of course, there was the nightmare of the past few months to relive as well…
Deliberately, he pushed his mind away from those thoughts. If he was going to get through this he had to stop dwelling on the past and start looking towards the future.
“Is it morning already?” Ginny groaned, rolling over and snuggling closer to him.
Harry hugged her close, concentrating.
“Y-yes.”
It was just one tiny word but it took as much effort as casting a Patronus for the first time.
Ginny’s eyes flew open and she scrambled up, looking at him like she could hardly believe what she was seeing and hearing.
“It wasn’t a dream then,” she whispered in a groggy voice, touching his face. Her gentle caress had his senses on immediate alert and he flushed. “You’re really here! …Say something else.”
Harry didn’t know if he could do it again, but seeing the look on her face he wanted to answer her. “Missed y-you,” he managed, practically breaking out in a sweat with the effort. He wasn’t sure why such simple words would exhaust him so much, but they did.
“Oh, Harry,” Ginny said, her eyes glistening. She buried her face in his shoulder, hanging on for dear life. “I never gave up hope, but it was so hard,” he heard her say in a muffled voice. Then squared her shoulders suddenly, her tear-streaked face mutinous. “Don’t you ever do that to me again!” He backed away slightly alarmed at her change of mood, but she pulled him closer, holding him with a fierce grip. “I’m never letting you out of my sight after this, you know, and it’s entirely your fault,” she mumbled into his chest.
He relaxed a bit and moved back to cuddling, suddenly understanding her anger. “Okay,” he said, sending her his agreement. He could think of nothing better that, actually.
Tentatively, he leaned down to kiss her lightly on the top of the head. Just as they were about to take it to the next level, however, Madame Pomfrey made an abrupt appearance, a tray of potions in her hand. She stopped dead in her tracks when she saw the two of them in the same bed together in such a compromising position.
“WHAT do you think you’re DOING?” she screeched in alarm.
Harry jumped up and scrambled back into his own bed, pulling the covers over him as if they could protect him from the matron’s wrath.
“Harry woke me up from a bad dream,” Ginny said quickly, sitting up. “Nothing was going on, I swear.”
“There had better not be,” Madame Pomfrey admonished primly, softening just a bit. “You may get away with that elsewhere, but not in my hospital wing. Young witches and wizards today… they have no sense of decency! In my day it was considered improper to hold hands in public unless there was a ring on the finger.” She bustled to the side of Harry’s bed and set the tray down on the bedside table with a thump, clattering the glass potions bottles noisily. “I’ve prepared a Pepper-Up potion, and also an elixir with a time-released Cheering Charm for you, Mr. Potter,” she said, shoving the concoctions towards him roughly. “Drink up. I don’t have all day.”
Turning to Ginny, she said firmly, “Miss Weasley, I think it is time for you to return to Gryffindor Tower.”
“But-”
“No arguments. If you don’t get back soon people will be knocking down the doors inquiring about you, and we simply don’t want that right now. We have decided to explain your absence as exhaustion — I kept you overnight for observations and a Dreamless night’s sleep, in case anyone asks. It’s due to stress from your upcoming exams. However, this will not excuse you from lessons today, so you’d better get a move on. Professor Dumbledore thinks it’s best to keep Mr. Potter’s presence in the castle secret for now, so don’t go blabbing that he’s here. Even the portraits have been sworn to secrecy. Understood?”
Ginny lowered her eyes submissively, but Harry could feel her irritation at being kicked out. “Yes, Ma’am.” She slid out of the bed and grabbed her clothes from a nearby chair, making her way to the changing area after casting Harry an anxious look.
Harry thought about trying to stop her from leaving again like he had done the night before, but Madame Pomfrey seemed to read his mind. “Don’t you try and stop her, young man,” she said, pointing a stern finger in his direction. “We have some tests to run and I’m sure you’d rather that Miss Weasley were not here for them.”
Harry gulped. And here he thought he was done with the torture.
***
That afternoon Harry was moved to his secret room on the third floor, escorted by Remus Lupin under the invisibility cloak at a time when most students were in lessons. The trip over was uneventful except for a minor brush with Peeves in the hallway. The poltergeist was trying to pelt Remus with stink bombs but a well-placed spell by the wizened ex-Professor took care of the problem straight away.
When Harry saw the room again, it was exactly as he had left it — with a few differences. A door had been added to the wall next to the fireplace. Remus explained that they had added a bedroom and that his belongings had been moved from storage and should be waiting for him in there. The other difference was how lived-in the room seemed. Books were scattered here and there and a chess set was sitting out on a table, the pieces already lined up and yelling for a match.
“Ron, Hermione, and Ginny have been using the room all year to study or to get some peace and quiet when things got too much for them,” Remus explained. “Ginny sometimes even slept here at night. I’m told she’s had some bad dreams and she sometimes keeps her roommates up at night. Stephen added the bedroom for her and keeps an eye on them. Hermione has been working as his teacher’s assistant and he often comes here to play Ron in chess about once a week.”
Harry nodded, walking around the room and trying to soak in exactly how much he’d missed while he’d been gone. Instinctively, he glanced up at the Marauder’s portrait, which was covered.
Remus gave a nervous laugh. “They’ve taken to covering it because the noise gets really loud otherwise and the other portraits complain. It was why we got put into storage in the first place, I think.” He walked over and pulled open the drapes, which were on a drawstring.
Immediately, the Gryffindor common came alive with loud seventies music. Even Remus held his ears. “Turn that thing down!” he bellowed at the boys in the picture, sounding very fatherly in Harry’s opinion.
“Huh?” Sirius yelled back, still dancing on the table.
“I said,” Remus yelled, “turn the music OFF!”
“Okay, okay Moony,” James said loudly, walking over to the stereo. “Don’t get yourself all worked up or you might have heart failure. You’re not getting any younger, you know.” He flipped the wireless off dramatically and, in a normal voice, said sarcastically, “…Better?”
“Much,” Remus said with relief.
“It’s probably the werewolf ears,” Remus’ younger counterpart explained with a helpful grin. “I’m told that past a certain age, they tend to get more sensitive.”
“Quite,” Remus said primly, straightening his robes and ignoring the roars of laughter coming from the group in the painting. Even Harry had to smile.
“Harry!” James exclaimed, noticing him for the first time. “You’re back! It’s good to see you again, mate. Where’ve you been?”
The loaded question gave Harry pause and he froze, looking up at his teenage father. He still hadn’t spoken to anyone other than Ginny, and Remus saved him from answering by patting him on the back reassuringly.
“Harry’s had a hard time of it, mates,” he told the boys. “He’s really not in the mood to talk, so please don’t push him. Maybe when he’s ready, he’ll tell you all about it.”
James’ face darkened with concern, but he nodded. “That’s cool.”
“He’s going to be staying here for awhile until some things can be worked out. Professor Dumbledore would like you lot to keep an eye on him for us. I’d appreciate it if you gave him some space — he has some recovering to do, so take it easy on him, okay?”
Harry heard their murmurs of concerned agreement as he wandered away to explore the rest of the room. He ignored the whispered conversation Remus seemed to be having with the Marauders and ducked into the privacy of the bedroom.
The room was cosy, with a full bed, plush carpet, and the other side of the fireplace casting a warm glow on the place. There wasn’t much in the way of decoration, but a few tapestries hung from the walls and a dresser stood regally in the corner. His trunk sat at the end of the bed, and beside the headboard was a bedside table. Harry could see a picture there of Ginny and him smiling into the camera. He couldn’t remember when it had been taken, but they looked fairly young.
Deliberately, he walked over and picked it up. The photo had obviously been taken before they had started dating because he and Ginny were sitting much too far apart. He vaguely recalled something about an argument between Ron and Hermione, but he wasn’t certain. He was amused to see the two of them casting mischievous glances at one another, as if sharing a secret. Sighing, he put the picture frame back down on the table. After everything they had been through, he had a hard time believing he had once been thick enough to see Ginny as Ron’s little sister.
Voices from the other room pulled him out of his regrets.
“Honestly, Ron,” he heard Hermione complain loudly, “if you’d just ignore him he’d probably stop.”
“How was I supposed to ignore him, Hermione?” he heard Ron retort. “You didn’t hear the foul things he was saying about Ginny. Just once I’d like to-”
Ron stopped when he saw Harry in the bedroom doorway, a questioning look on his face.
“Harry,” Hermione said a little too brightly. “How are you feeling?”
Harry ignored her and snapped his fingers. Immediately, a parchment and quill appeared out of thin air and he grabbed them, scribbling furiously. As soon as he was finished, he shoved the paper at them, indicating that they should read it.
“Who’s saying things about Ginny?” Ron repeated, his voice high-pitched and squeaky as he read Harry’s note. He reddened. “It’s nothing — just Malfoy spouting off again… Don’t worry, I took care of it,” he said, a hard edge creeping into his voice. “He’s been doing it all year since you’ve been gone, but so far he’s done nothing but talk.”
Harry’s face darkened at the mere thought of Malfoy saying nasty things about Ginny. If he ever laid a finger on Ginny, Harry knew he’d kill the little twit without a moment’s hesitation. He grabbed the parchment back from Ron and wrote, thrusting it back into Hermione’s hands when he was finished.
“Harry, Ginny is in class right now,” Hermione said gently, like a parent talking to a very small child. “I’m sure she’ll be all right. I’m not sure Professor Flitwick would appreciate me barging in his classroom and demanding that she come with me — at least not without a good reason.”
Angrily, Harry snapped the paper back, wrote something, and then thrust it back towards her, looking at her pleadingly.
Hermione sighed. “I suppose it wouldn’t hurt if I hung out in the hallway and waited for her. I could mark some of Professor Hunter’s essays while I wait.” She collected her bag and promised to be back with Ginny as soon as possible.
“I think I’ll report in with the headmaster,” Remus announced. Harry had forgotten that he was even in the room, but apparently he had been keeping quiet so as to not interrupt their conversation — such that it was. He waved good-bye and disappeared out the door behind Hermione.
Ron and Harry were left alone looking at each other awkwardly.
“Er… You’re looking well today,” Ron said, shifting uncomfortably on his feet.
Harry didn’t answer. He was too anxious to know exactly where Ginny was that his eyes kept darting towards the door, hoping to see Ginny there even though he knew she wouldn’t be back for awhile. He walked over to the billiards table and fidgeted with the balls nervously. He knew he could use their mind link to check on her, but he was reluctant to do it. He wasn’t exactly sure what frightened him about using the link to check on her, but he supposed the thought of what he might find on the other end was reason enough.
Swallowing his fear, he tentatively opened the connection. Relief flooded him as he felt her there. She was a bit anxious and slightly bored, but he didn’t sense that she was in any danger at all. His invasion startled her, and he sent her a message to let her know that Hermione would be waiting for her outside the classroom. She seemed confused by this but accepting, and he quickly shut the connection down to allow her to get back to her studies.
While he had been doing this, Ron had been observing him with a perplexed expression on his face.
“You checked on her, right?” he said unexpectedly.
Startled, Harry nodded. He expected Ron to be all weirded out by his admission, but Ron surprised him.
“Is she okay?”
Harry furrowed is brows but nodded, affirming that she was safe for now.
“Good,” he said firmly. “I know you’ve been through a lot, Harry, but so has Ginny. She’s been a right mess since you disappeared, and the rumour mill has been working on her really hard. When you didn’t come back she went a little nutters at first and most people didn’t understand it. But somehow she managed to pull it together and keep her marks above water. The nights are worst…” He sighed, seeming to shake himself out of his memories. “But now that you’re back, I think things will get back to normal. She’s due to take her OWLs in a week, you know.”
Harry hadn’t realised that the end of term was that close and for the first time he wondered about his own education. He had missed almost all of his sixth year. What did that mean for him? Would he have to make it up, or did it even matter? With Voldemort still out there and on the loose, there was no way he could focus on being a normal student right now anyway. The thought of sitting through potions or transfiguration right now with everything he’d been through was laughable.
When Harry didn’t answer, Ron shifted uncomfortably again. His gaze drifted off and fell on the chess board.
“What to play?” he asked hopefully.
Harry shrugged. He needed a distraction until Ginny got back, and even though he knew Ron would trounce him, it might be enough to help him pass the time. They moved over to the board and Ron took a seat opposite him at the table.
The pieces cheered to see him, knowing that they would finally get the fight they had been looking for, but Ron frowned.
“Don’t know how this is going to work, mate,” he said looking at the animated pieces in disappointment. “You’re not exactly Mr. Chatty right now, so how are you going to tell them where to go? Too bad we don’t have one of those Muggle versions. There’s no talking needed with them.”
Harry stared at the board for a minute, then an idea struck him. He waved his hand over the board and cast a Full Body Bind charm on the pieces, watching in satisfaction when they froze in place.
“Wicked!” Ron exclaimed. “Their going to be hacked off about this next time I try to use them though,” he grumbled.
Harry’s face fell in disappointment but Ron waved it off.
“S’okay,” he assured Harry. “Mine will be fine once we win, and I’ll make Professor Hunter play yours.” He grinned. “That might be fun, actually. I’m tired of losing to him.”
They were still playing when the girls got back. Ginny came bursting through the door first. She threw her bag on the floor and racing towards Harry who was just about to make a move. Like she couldn’t wait to touch him again, she threw her hands around his neck from behind and hugged him tightly, making them both blush. Harry dropped his charmed chess piece, which he could have sworn let out a yelp, although it could have been his imagination.
“Sorry,” she apologized. “I don’t know why I did that.”
Harry responded by scooting out his chair and pulling her in his lap. For the first time that day since she had left for classes, he felt some of the tension ebb away and his nerves calm their pattering. For a moment they embraced and he felt complete, like everything he had ever wanted or could ever want was right here in his arms. He felt her sag against him and knew that she was experiencing something similar. Their foreheads touched and Harry closed his eyes, breathing in the scent of her shampoo from the tendrils of red hair that tickled his face.
A pointed cough made them break apart. “We can leave, you know…” Ron said from across the table. “It’s alright if you want some time alone.”
“N-No,” Harry said immediately. “S-Stay. Please.”
Both Ron and Hermione looked startled that he had talked. Ron got a funny look on his face, like he was fighting some internal battle, but Hermione’s eyes immediately teared up.
They grasped each other’s hands and Hermione, who was standing behind Ron, put her other hand on her boyfriend’s shoulder.
Ron cleared his throat noisily and then nodded towards the board and the fallen piece. “You’re move, mate.”
Silently, Harry picked up his fallen Queen and nudged her into position but he held firmly to Ginny as he did this. He knew she probably had revising to do, but for now he couldn’t bare to let her go.
Hermione pulled up a chair next to Ron and the four of them concentrated on the game. It didn’t matter that Ron was winning, or that Harry was less than interested in the planning out appropriate moves and counter-moves. They were together, and that was what was important.
***
Far away Voldemort was seething. His plans had been ruined once again by Stephen Hunter. He’d make sure his old enemy paid dearly for interfering, this time with his life. The loss of the Dark Prince was not going to go unnoticed by his followers, and if there was anything he hated it was to look weak and foolish.
For now he had to re-evaluate his master scheme and make some decisions. One thing he’d most certainly turn his attention to was that little island. He had a feeling it held many useful secrets that he could exploit.
The other thing he must have would be much harder to obtain — harder but not impossible. In that brief instant on the Hogwarts grounds before he was driven out of Harry’s body he had discovered something intriguing… something he now knew he must possess. It was, perhaps, the solution to everything.
Controlling Harry had been exhausting but worthwhile. Harry hadn’t made it easy for him to maintain absolute control. He was very headstrong and stubborn — but powerful. Without a doubt, the boy’s power was astounding. Voldemort knew that he hadn’t even come close to unlocking the full potential of what lay beneath the surface. Luckily, Harry had no idea what kind of gold mine he was sitting on, thanks in part to the help of a very special operative within the walls of Hogwarts. Because Harry had no clue how to wield his power, Voldemort really didn’t fear the boy — at least not yet. But there was no question that he’d have to find a way to take back that power — to steal it for himself.
Yes… it just might work. And he knew exactly how he could accomplish it, provided he obtained the Key.
He laughed loudly but without humour.
Soon he’d have the Key, and when he did he’d also have Harry.
“Goyle!” he commanded.
A figure appeared at the door. “Y-Yes, Master?”
“Get me Severus Snape. I have a job for him.”
Goyle bowed awkwardly. “R-Right away, Master.” He straightened to leave but Voldemort stopped him.
“Tell no one of this, Goyle, or you will find yourself on the wrong end of my wand,” he warned in a deadly quiet voice.
Goyle was so frightened he could only nod his head as he backed out of the room to do the Dark Lord’s bidding.
“I’m coming Harry,” Voldemort murmured to himself once he was alone. “But this time it’s not you I’m coming after. Once Ginny Weasley is under my control, you’ll do anything I want and I’ll have back what is mine.”
He laughed again, pleased with himself and his own genius. It was only a matter of time now.
*
[A/N: Thanks to everyone who voted for me for the DD Silver Trinket Awards at Sink in Your Eyes Harry and Ginny website. I really appreciate the support, although I was up against some very stiff competition. I’m not sure how it will turn out, but it means a lot that I was nominated and that so many of you voted for me.
On that note, I have decided to skip this Friday’s deadline and try and get caught up. That means I’ll try to have a chapter posted by June 23rd. Hopefully the extra time will allow me to write ahead, easing the pressure somewhat. I don’t want to do away with the deadline altogether because it motivates me, and I am so close now I can see the end in sight. However, I want to make them the best chapters that I possibly can, so rushing them isn’t an option. I hope you agree. Only six more chapters to go… See ya on the 23rd!]
Chapter 26: Horcruxes and Hiding Places
Author's Notes: I'm sorry I missed my deadline, but I think the wait improved the chapter. If I had submitted it on time half of the fluffy stuff at the end would have been omitted. Because I didn't hear back from my beta (Who was even more busy then me this week, and I thought I was busy!) I had time to take a second look at the chapter and add the scene back in the Hideout, which really brings everything together, I think. That is why I'm not going to do a deadline for the rest of the chapters. If I can update once a week, I will. But no more rushing. With only five chapters left, you'll get a good chapter when I think it's ready and not because I feel rushed to get one out. Hopefully you all prefer quality to quantity. I'm finding that with my kids home for the summer and under foot all day long, it is twice as hard to find time to write. So... next chapter will be coming up soon, but no promises when. I'll get it out as fast as I can, but without compromising the story. Too many things have to come together now and I don't want to blow it all in the end. Thanks to Arnel, Chreechree, and Melindaleo for helping me with edits and opinions. Thoughtful reviews are appreciated but not required. Thanks for reading!
Disclaimer:
The characters and situations of Harry Potter depicted in this story are the legal property of J.K. Rowling, Bloomsbury, and AOL Time Warner, and have been used without permission. No copyright infringement is intended.
No profit is being made off this story. It is for entertainment purposes only.
“Horcruxes and Hiding Places”
Harry stopped in front of the stone gargoyle outside the headmaster’s office and looked up, wary about this meeting. He had been back for over a week now and slowly his voice had returned, although he still wasn’t back to normal. Random memories from the past months would sometimes catch him off guard, and he’d find himself mute for awhile until he had time to process the information. He supposed it was his mind’s way of compensating for the terrible things he had witnessed — things his body had participated in.
It suddenly struck him that this was where Ginny had stood that day, crying to be let in. He shivered at the memory of hearing her run through every sweet imaginable, only to be denied entry.
Taking a deep breath, he stated clearly, “Bertie Bott’s,” and watched as the stone gargoyle moved aside.
Stepping up to the escalator-like stairs, he rode to the top in a fluid upward spiral, closing his mind to the memories. The familiar mumblings of the portraits inside the office filled his ears even before he saw them. Politely he knocked, hovering just inside the doorway. Dumbledore was sitting behind his desk reading some parchments and consulting some books, but he looked up expectantly at the noise.
“Ahh… Harry,” he said warmly. “Do come in. Have a seat. Would you care for a lemon drop?”
“No, thank you,” Harry answered quietly, sitting in a chair opposite the desk. He waited patiently for the old wizard to get to the point.
One thing he had learned in his time away was patience. With nothing to occupy him during that time of solitude except for the things going on outside his control, he had found a way to survive by biding his time, striking at exactly the right moment to do what he could to minimize the damage his body was causing. It was a habit he found he had retained upon his return. Instead of the impulsiveness that had plagued him before, he now thought about each move he made and executed it with decisive action. He was a bit worried that his ability to think on his feet would be affected — it had always been his strength — but yesterday he and Stephen had resumed their lessons, and Harry had beaten him in everything from sword fighting to duelling in record time. Whatever Voldemort had done to him, his magical power was stronger than it had ever been before he left, and his physical strength had improved as well. Harry was throwing much stronger curses and hexes than ever before, and his reflexes were ‘astounding’, according to Stephen.
“Harry,” Dumbledore said, pushing aside his papers, “I won’t ‘beat around the bush’, as the Muggles would say. I have something important to discuss with you, and I feel it is past time for you to know.”
“Know what, Professor?” Harry asked, leaning forward in his chair slightly.
“The secret I’ve been keeping,” Dumbledore answered with a heavy sigh. “Last year when I promised to tell you everything, I regret to say that I held a few things back.”
Harry felt the beginnings of anger stirring in his chest, but he controlled them because he knew that losing his temper might be a pathway for Voldemort to get into his mind, and he would not allow that to happen again. He had definitely learned his lesson there. Any anger he felt would always be controlled anger — any fear, controlled fear.
“What kind of things, Professor?” he asked in a serious, mature voice that certainly did not betray his true feelings.
“I have learned the reason Voldemort cannot be killed — at least not yet,” Dumbledore answered, looking Harry in the eye. “I’ve always had my suspicions, but it hadn’t been confirmed until earlier this year when I stumbled across something I’d been searching a long time for — something that has allowed Tom to come closer to immortality than any other wizard alive. Since then I have been on a quest.”
“I don’t understand, sir,” Harry said.
“I’ve found Tom’s Horcruxes — most of them anyway.”
“Horcruxes?” Harry repeated in a confuse voice, trying out the unfamiliar word on his tongue. “What’s that?”
“A Horcrux,” Dumbledore answered gravely, “is a most dangerous and Dark type of magic. It is strictly forbidden to create a Horcrux because it requires murder in order to be accomplished. The spell rips the soul in two and stores part of it in an object… or in some cases a living thing.”
Harry stared at the headmaster with wide eyes. “Voldemort did that?”
“Yes, Harry,” Dumbledore answered. “I now have proof that he did indeed do that. But it gets worse.”
“Worse?” Harry said dumbly.
“I have evidence to believe that Tom created several Horcruxes — six to be exact, an unheard of number. You see, by splitting the soul into seven parts, including the bit that still resides inside himself, he would have practically insured his own immortality.”
“Sir,” Harry said carefully, “does this mean that if we find these Horcruxes and destroy them, then Voldemort will be mortal again… and he can be killed?”
Harry didn’t miss the twinkle in Dumbledore’s eyes. “Yes Harry, that’s exactly what I’m saying.”
Harry’s mind was reeling. “The diary,” he said suddenly. “The diary that was used to open the Chamber of Secrets… That was a Horcrux, wasn’t it?”
“Yes Harry,” Dumbledore said proudly. “It was.”
“But I destroyed it with the Basilisk fang, so that means only five are left.”
Dumbledore opened the top drawer of his desk and pulled out several charred objects from his desk. “Actually,” he said, “I have a few others to add to the collection.” He pulled out a battered locket, a blackened ring, and a half-destroyed trophy. “These first two were the only known artefacts of Salazar Slytherin, passed down through his descendents to Tom Riddle’s mother. The cup belonged to Helga Hufflepuff, another Hogwarts founder.”
Harry did the maths in his head. “That leaves two, if your information is correct and Voldemort did make seven of these Horcruxes.”
“That is why I have called you here,” Dumbledore said evenly. “I need your help.”
“How can I help?”
“I believe one of the Horcruxes is Voldemort’s snake, Nagini.” Dumbledore fixed his eyes on Harry in a hard stare, seeming to be trying to convey something unspoken in the gaze.
“Nagini?” Harry said, surprised. “Why do you suspect Nagini?”
“I have been suspicious of her ever since last year when you had your dream and the culminating events that led to Arthur Weasley being taken to St. Mungo’s,” Dumbledore said evenly. “The way you described the snake, it seems Voldemort has an unusual amount of control over her.”
Harry thought back over what he had seen while he was in the Shadow. It wasn’t easy because he had deliberately put all those memories away in a cupboard inside his mind. It was easier to deal with the memories one at a time. So, from time to time when he was alone, he would take out a memory and relive it. This was something Stephen had suggested because it had helped him deal with his own trauma after his capture, coupled with the loss of his family. He had told Harry that the memories had threatened to overwhelm him and he had used his Occlumency to help him cope, otherwise he might have gone mad. Harry had seen some of the same tendencies in himself and knew that Stephen was right. At first, all he wanted was to just keep the last eight months locked away and repress all the bad memories, but Stephen had insisted that it would be much better to face his past rather than forget about it altogether. Repressed memories could come back to haunt a person at the most inconvenient times he said. Harry could find himself in the middle of a duel and suddenly become frozen in fear over something in his past. According to Stephen, he could easily end up dead because of it.
“I don’t understand, Sir,” Harry said. “Why would Voldemort entrust part of his soul to a living thing? That doesn’t make sense. What if it died? Snakes don’t live forever, do they?”
Dumbledore chuckled. “No, Harry. They certainly do not. But if a charm were placed on the snake to tie her life force to Voldemort’s, and if Voldemort cannot die…”
“…then Nagini can’t die until he does,” Harry finished.
“Oh, I don’t know about that,” Dumbledore said, his eyes twinkling. “I think she’s just as vulnerable as any of the rest of us, but certainly her natural life would be extended, and she would not age like a normal snake.”
“So, she can be killed, but not die a natural death,” Harry stated.
“Precisely,” Dumbledore said, sounding extremely pleased that Harry had picked up on that distinction.
“So,” Harry said, his mind whirling, “all we have to do is find Nagini, do away with her, and then we only have one more Horcrux left. Do you have any idea what the last one might be?”
“I must confess, Harry… I do.” Dumbledore’s eyes had suddenly taken on a sad expression, and his shoulders seemed to droop a bit, like he was carrying the weight of a great burden. “I have suspected for quite some time now, and the closer we have become the more certain I am that I was right.”
The way he was looking at him, so sad and so regretful made something click in Harry’s mind. He reached up and ran a hand over his scar, comprehension dawning. “It’s me, isn’t it?” he said. “It’s my scar.”
Dumbledore nodded sadly.
“But why?” Harry asked Dumbledore. “Why would he put a piece of himself in me? Why do that? It doesn’t make sense.”
“I don’t think he intended to,” Dumbledore answered. “I think he intended to use your murder to make his final Horcrux that night, but your mother’s sacrifice made everything go wrong. The Killing Curse backfired, and you ended up with the bit of soul that was supposed to be encased in something else — something that most likely once belonged to Godric Gryffindor. The place your parents were staying in, Godric’s Hollow… it was once the home of your ancestor-“
“Gryffindor!” Harry exclaimed knowing it to be true.
“You are a direct descendant of Gryffindor through your father’s line, Harry. Your parents went there to hide because the ancient magic would afford them better protection as a direct descendant, but alas… sadly, Voldemort found a way around that protection through Peter.”
“I’m related to Godric Gryffindor,” Harry mused aloud, choosing to not think about the man he had watched die by his own hand. “…That’s why you gave me the sword.”
Dumbledore nodded. “I thought it rightly belonged to you. You did pull it out of the hat, after all. It is connected to you, and I think it may come in handy one day. The sword has a way of knowing when it is needed, as you experienced in the Chamber of Secrets.”
Harry sat back in his chair feeling slightly nauseated. “I’m carrying around a piece of Voldemort’s soul in my head,” he said in a dazed voice. “You tried to tell me once, didn’t you… back in my second year. It was after I saved Ginny from the diary and killed the basilisk. You said then that Voldemort had put a bit of himself in me. It’s why I can speak Parseltongue and why I can feel his emotions or see through his eyes sometimes.” He tapped his scar. “Our link is through this. Does that mean that this scar is the Horcrux?”
Dumbledore nodded. “I believe that the Horcrux is encased in your scar. It is the reason I did not try and remove it when I left you at your aunt’s house. I believed that it would be dangerous — even deadly, to try.” He swept his arm over the ruined objects on his desk. “Look what happened to these when I cast the spell to destroy the Horcruxes encased inside them.”
Harry surveyed the battered, charred, and broken objects with trepidation. “So, if you can’t get rid of it and you can’t destroy it… then, where does that leave me? Am I stuck with this part of him forever?”
“Harry…” Dumbledore said gravely, his old eyes sad. “So long as even one bit of Voldemort remains, he will never be truly gone. This is why he did not die, even though the Killing Curse should have finished him.” He gave Harry a long-suffering look full of pain and regret. “You do understand what I’m telling you, don’t you?”
Every bit of Harry was screaming denial, but in his heart he knew what Dumbledore was getting at. It was what the prophecy had foretold. He had the power to destroy the Dark Lord, and neither could live while the other survived. If Harry lived on after Voldemort with the scar intact, then part of Voldemort also lived through him. In order to make sure Voldemort never returned, he would have to find a way to destroy both the Horcrux encased in his own body and Voldemort — but only after he had first killed Nagini, if she was indeed a Horcrux also.
His heart plummeted.
“Why are you telling me this now?” he asked Dumbledore angrily. He felt the faintest stirring of the snake inside him, but he quickly controlled his emotions even though all he really wanted was to let loose and start breaking things like he had the day Sirius had died. All the time he had wasted… all the things he had wanted to do. Now he would never get the chance.
“I felt it was time you knew,” Dumbledore said calmly. “Your disappearance was unexpected. Events are accelerating at a rapid pace — much faster than anyone had anticipated. According to my calculations, time is running short. The centaurs of the forest have read the signs in the heavens, and they believe that the final battle is approaching. One day soon you may be faced with a terrible decision, and I wanted you to be prepared. I may not be here for long…”
Harry jerked his head up sharply. “Where else would you be?”
Dumbledore merely shrugged. “I am an old man, Harry. I have lived a very long and very full life. Men of my age know that their days are numbered, and I have begun to prepare myself for my next great adventure.”
“But you can’t just… die.”
“I assure you that I have no intentions of leaving you any time soon. But when it does happen — and I assure you that it will — I am prepared. I can now leave this world with a clean conscious, knowing that I have given you all the tools you need to see this through.”
He got up and walked around the desk, placing a withered hand on Harry’s shoulder. “I have many regrets, Harry,” he said sadly. “But the thing I regret the most is having to lay this burden on your shoulders. I have done everything I can to protect you and guide you, but now it is up to you.”
Harry wandered around the darkened halls of Hogwarts under his invisibility cloak in a fog, his mind full of everything Dumbledore had said to him. Part of him was still in shock over what he had learned, but another small part had already resigned himself to his fate. He had always known that it would come down to either him or Voldemort, but now he knew that he had been wrong… even if he managed to kill Voldemort’s body, he would never be able to truly live because living would ensure Voldemort’s survival. As long as the Horcrux embedded in his forehead survived, so would Voldemort. It was a quandary he didn’t have the energy to solve at the moment. Right now all he wanted was to find Ginny and forget everything he had heard in the headmaster’s office.
Ginny was supposed to be taking her Astronomy OWL tonight, so he moved towards the tower they had used last year to take the practical part of the exam. He wished he could talk to Macoa, but the snake seemed to have disappeared. No one had seen her since about the same time Harry had been ambushed in Surrey. This troubled Harry for some reason other than the obvious one of not knowing what had become of her. Every time his mind trailed to his reptile friend, he kept thinking he had forgotten something… something important.
“Let me go, Malfoy, or I swear-”
Harry froze.
“Shut it Weasley, or I’ll show you exactly what the Dark Lord’s followers think of filthy blood traitors like you,” Malfoy’s cold voice sneered from up ahead. “All I want is information on Potter. Tell me what I want to know, and we can end this meeting pleasantly. …Refuse and you’ll find out exactly who you’re dealing with.”
“I know who I’m dealing with, you little ferret,” Ginny snarled. “I don’t think you have a clue who you’re dealing with!”
Harry rushed down the hall and rounded the corner, his blood boiling. This was pure rage, unlike anything he had ever known before. It did not give him time to analyze why the feeling of the snake stirring did not come, or why he felt so blinded by hate that he could kill Malfoy on the spot with his bare hands. The hate only intensified when he saw the blond Slytherin’s wand trained on Ginny’s neck and her wand lying uselessly on the floor.
He drew his own wand, but the angle was all wrong — if he cursed Malfoy from here he could hit Ginny — so he did the next best thing. He slammed his invisible body into Malfoy’s with all the force he could muster. With a satisfying crunch Malfoy went flying.
Harry whipped the invisibility cloak off and rounded on Malfoy, who had slammed against the wall and was looking a bit dazed. Harry’s wand was at Malfoy’s throat in an instant, and the fury on his face let the blond boy know that he was not playing around.
“P-Potter!” Malfoy stuttered.
“That’s right, Draco,” Harry said with deadly calm. “You were looking for information, and now you’re going to get it — straight from the source. The question is… will you live to tell anyone?” He smiled in satisfaction as Draco’s eyes widened and he whimpered in terror.
“Who sent you?” Harry asked.
“N-No one.”
“Come now, Draco… don’t take me for a fool,” Harry said impatiently. “I know you’ve been working with the Death Eaters for months now. I know you even fancy yourself one. But did you know that inside Voldemort’s inner circle you’re considered somewhat of a joke? You’re mission is nothing more than a long shot, and you, Malfoy, are expendable. You were given a fool’s errand, and you’re too stupid to realise it.”
“You’re wrong,” Draco said, but he didn’t seem so sure of himself.
“Am I?” Harry mused, not backing down an inch, his wand never wavering. “I don’t think so. Only a fool would corner a Weasley — especially this Weasley. You’re lucky I came by when I did or you’d most likely be in hospital now having Madame Pomfrey extract bat bogeys from your nostrils.”
Draco paled, obviously having remembered being hit by the curse.
Harry felt a small hand touch his arm. “Come on, Harry,” Ginny said gently. “Let’s get out of here.”
“No,” Harry said firmly, the anger still burning in his eyes. “He wanted information, and now he’s going to get it. Tell your Dark Lord that I know all about his plans to kill Dumbledore, and there’s no way in hell I’m going to let that happen. If he wants the job done so badly, he should come himself and not send schoolboys to do his dirty work for him. But he should be forewarned… Whenever he chooses to come, I’ll be waiting. I’m done being his pawn. If he wants a fight, then that’s what he’ll get. You tell him that Harry Potter is no longer his plaything. He’d better watch out because next time it’ll be me that has the advantage.”
“I can’t tell him that!” Malfoy exclaimed. “He’ll kill me on the spot.”
“That’s your problem,” Harry said unflinchingly. “You wanted information, and now you have it.”
“Too bad the bloody snake didn’t finish you off,” Draco spat out angrily.
Harry stilled, sensing that Draco knew something that he didn’t. “What are you talking about?”
“Your little snake friend… not seen her lately, have you Potter?”
“What have you done to her?” Harry growled, shoving him against the wall again extra hard.
“I’ve done nothing,” Draco sneered. “I didn’t have to. She’s the one who’s been calling the shots. …Or didn’t you know?”
Harry recoiled, stunned. It wasn’t possible… Macoa was his friend. She’d helped him — she’d listened to him and given him advice when he’d needed it most.
Draco smirked. “No… it looks like you didn’t know. Newsflash, Potter. Your little friend Macoa has been working for the Dark Lord all this time, and you never even suspected. Maybe you don’t know so much after all. Here’s a life lesson for you… never trust a snake, especially the magical ones. If you were Slytherin instead of a stupid Gryffindor, you would know that.”
He grabbed Malfoy by the collar and shoved him towards the Dungeon where the Slytherins lived. “Get out of here before I curse you so badly that you’ll wish you looked as good as Mad-Eye Moody,” he ground out angrily.
Malfoy straightened his robes and sauntered down the corridor like he had just won the lottery, making Harry regret that he was too noble to hex him in the back.
“Harry,” Ginny said shakily when he was gone, “please tell me he was lying. Macoa isn’t really one of them, is she?”
Harry stared vacantly at the wall, trying to make sense of it. “What happened to the egg?” he asked quietly.
Ginny blinked. “What egg?”
“Macoa’s egg… the one I gave to you before I got taken.”
“You didn’t give me an egg,” Ginny said, confused.
“Yes, Ginny, I did. Macoa gave it to me to give to you that night… the night we spent by the fire. Don’t you remember?”
Ginny’s eyes were wide, and her face paled as she shook her head. “I don’t remember anything except what happened between you and me, and I certainly don’t remember accepting an egg. Why would I do that? I hate snakes!”
Harry turned to her, his eyes still blazing and his jaw set. “If they did something to hurt you, I don’t know that I’d be able to control myself.”
“Don’t say that.”
His breathing quickened as the memories claimed him. “You don’t know what it was like, Ginny, when I thought you were dead…” he said in a far off voice. “I know you suffered too, but I… I watched you die, for Merlin’s sake! I still don’t know how he tricked me into thinking that you were gone. They did something to our link, and I couldn’t feel you anymore. It was like part of me was missing. I was confused, and then you were there, and you looked so real.” He paused, lost in thought. “That memory will haunt me for the rest of my life.”
“But I’m here,” Ginny said reassuringly. “I didn’t die. That wasn’t me.”
He looked down the hall with cold green eyes. “I have to get to the bottom of this. If Macoa was working for the Dark side, it’s hard to tell the damage she caused. I-I trusted her. I confided in her, and I-I allowed myself to be hypnotized by her. She helped me sleep at night…”
He cursed loudly. “Why didn’t I see it!” He was gripping his wand so tightly, sparks flew out of it. “She wasn’t helping me sleep at all. She was doing something to me…”
Ginny swallowed hard, visibly shaken, but she didn’t try to correct him. They both sensed that he was right. “What are you going to do?” she asked.
He relaxed his shoulders, pocketed his wand, and picked up his discarded invisibility cloak from the ground angrily. “I’ll think about that later.”
He looked her over with concern. “Are you all right? Malfoy didn’t hurt you, did he?”
“I’m fine,” she answered, anxiety still showing on her face.
Harry glanced down the empty hallway where Malfoy had scuttled off. “If he’d have hurt you, I think I would have killed him.”
When he turned back to Ginny, the anxiety was gone, and she was staring at him thoughtfully. “I think I understand how you feel,” she told him when their eyes met. “I think… I think I’d do whatever I had to do to protect you as well. But I don’t want to be responsible for you getting yourself thrown in Azkaban, Harry. There are some battles you can’t protect me from — some enemies I have to fight myself. You can’t always be my hero and swoop in to save me. Sometimes you have to let me handle things my own way. Do you understand?”
He nodded reluctantly. “I know you could have handled that git all on your own, but when I saw him threatening you I lost my temper.”
Ginny’s face twisted in a grin. “Next time, wait half a second before you tackle him. I was just about to show him the Muggle way to get rid of stalkers and bullies.” She shrugged. “It always worked on my brothers in a pinch.”
Harry’s face reddened, but he laughed. “I’ll remember that. Remind me not to underestimate how low you’ll go to keep your advantage.”
“Too right you are, Potter,” she said cheekily. “Now, didn’t you promise me a nice relaxing evening by the fire after my astronomy practical?” She looped her arm in his and pulled him in the opposite direction from where Malfoy had gone. “How was your meeting with Dumbledore?”
Harry shrugged. “I found some things out, but I’d rather not talk about it if you don’t mind. I’ll tell you everything eventually, but right now I need to process it all. I’m not sure how I feel about it yet, and now Malfoy’s given me another thing to worry about.”
Ginny nodded understandingly. “When you’re ready.”
Harry felt a sudden, overwhelming rush of desire for her that literally took his breath away. Her eyes showed him that she felt it too, and suddenly he couldn’t stand it anymore. Looking around, he spotted the perfect hiding place, a tapestry that covered a small alcove. He had discovered it once on a trip to the kitchens for a late-night snack when he had almost been caught by Filch. Hastily, he grabbed her hand and pulled behind it.
As one, they melted into each other. It was dark behind the heavy tapestry, but they didn’t mind because suddenly it wasn’t about seeing — it was about feeling and touching and kissing, their hands and tongues intertwining passionately as they abandoned all caution and lost themselves in the moment.
After what felt like hours of groping and serious snogging they pulled away from each other, totally out of breath. Harry’s heart was beating so loudly he thought for sure it would attract Mrs. Norris’s keen ears, should she happen to come by.
“Stay with me tonight,” he whispered.
“What-what are you saying?” Ginny asked, and Harry felt her conflicting emotions.
“I just want to be near you,” he clarified. “We won’t do anything you don’t feel comfortable doing. I promise. I just want you near me… to know that when I wake up you’ll still be there.”
“Oh, Harry,” she sniffed sounding more like Hermione than he had ever heard her. “Of course I’ll stay with you. I’m just not sure I’m ready for that, you know?”
Harry kissed her again more tenderly this time, and he felt some of her resolve weaken. “I’m content to wait as long as I need in order for that to happen. I’m not some ponce who only wants one thing from you, Ginny. When you’re ready for that to happen, I’ll know because I’ll feel it, too. That night by the fire, before I went away… that was magical. It gave me something to hang onto all those months when I thought you were dead. I just want to feel that again.”
He swallowed a lump that had suddenly formed in his throat. “The Darkness… it’s coming. I can feel it coming. I can’t make any promises to you, Ginny, but I do know one thing… I love you more than life itself and I would willingly sacrifice my own life to keep you safe.”
Ginny clung to him tightly. “Stop talking like that, Harry. No one is sacrificing anything — we’re going to find a way to stop him, and then we’ll have the rest of our lives to spend together.”
He wrapped his arms around her protectively, trying to block out Dumbledore’s words swimming in his head.
“…So long as even one bit of Voldemort remains, he will never be truly gone… You do understand what I’m telling you, don’t you? …the Horcrux is encased in your scar… One day soon you may be faced with a terrible decision, and I wanted you to be prepared. ”
Harry shivered and clutched Ginny tighter, grateful that she could not see his face in the dark, but forgetting for a second that she could feel his every emotion.
“Are you all right?” she asked him, concerned.
“Just come back with me to The Hideout,” he answered, his eyes pleading with her to understand. “Stay with me and make me forget. For one night, all I want is to think of nothing but us — not Voldemort, not Macoa, and certainly not Malfoy. Will you… will you do that for me?”
He felt Ginny’s hand slide into his and gently tug his arm towards the tapestry doorway, and he obediently followed her lead back out into the torch lit corridor. He had a terrible feeling that Fate was about to intervene again, and he was not sure he was ready.
Stuffing his worries into that cupboard he had created inside his mind, he stubbornly determined that he would worry about that tomorrow. Tonight all he wanted
was to feel Ginny in his arms, and the sooner they got back to his room, the sooner that would happen.
She looked up at him intently, seeming to read his mind. “No matter what happens, I’ll never let you face it alone.”
He smiled down at her, and suddenly his heart was full of sunshine again.
“I know.”
“Good, then,” she said, smiling. “Now that we have that settled, how about we hurry? I’m rather keen to pick up where we left off.”
The room was quiet when they got back. Someone had stoked the fire, and it crackled invitingly, its orange flames dancing merrily and casting a warm glow on the room. The Marauders portrait had been covered, but faint music could be heard coming from behind the heavy drape. All the other portraits in the room were sleeping. Harry had learned that the older paintings were quite grumpy when they didn’t get their sleep, and the Marauders’ parties kept them awake unless the younger ones were covered at night.
Quietly they tiptoed across the room and into Harry’s adjoining bedroom where he immediately cast silencing and locking spells on the room and door. He was glad to see that the double fireplace was casting its magic in here as well. Ginny placed a blanket on the floor and Harry transfigured it into a soft fur-like rug that he had once seen in a magazine his aunt had thrown in the bin. Harry had never had books as a child, so he would often nick the old magazines and flip through them to help pass the time when his uncle would lock him in the cupboard as punishment for some thing or another. He remembered how cosy this particular cottage had looked with the fireplace and the rug and wanted to feel that same sense of security tonight.
Ginny lit a few candles and suddenly the room was dancing with warm flames and shadows that were not at all scary. The dark was still comforting to Harry. He had been exposed to the light since returning, and it didn’t bother him as much as it used to, but he always felt better when night came. The darkness provided a perfect hiding place for everything that troubled him. When he was alone at night, he could almost put a name to his fears. Stephen had always told him that invoking the true name of something gave you power over it. The darkness put him in touch with those things that frightened him, and he had been working to identify them so that one day when he faced the unseen terrors he would have power over them. In his mind, Harry felt he had been powerless far too long. When the true Darkness found him, he didn’t want to be bogged down by fear — especially the fear that came from his own imagination.
Ginny took the pillows off the bed and brought them to the fireside then pulled something out of her school bag that she had discarded by the door. “I thought we might be hungry later, so I nicked these at dinner,” she said, holding up a capped jug of pumpkin juice, a few sweet rolls, and some biscuits. “Want some?”
Harry nodded eagerly and sat down as she divvied up the food. He conjured two glasses out of thin air and handed her one.
“How do you do that?” she asked, looking at him funnily.
Harry paused, uncertain. “I don’t know,” he answered truthfully. “I just think about what I want, and suddenly I know what I need to do to get it. It’s like when I learned to shape-shift. I just get in touch with the magic, focus my mind on what I want to happen, and then give the magic permission to take that form. Since I’ve been back I don’t seem to have to think about how to do magic as much… it’s just there, you know?”
“It’s not supposed to work that way,” she commented, raising an eyebrow.
Harry stared at his feet sheepishly as he took a bite of sweet roll. “I know,” he admitted. “Ever since I got back, I feel… different. Like some kind of magical rope on me has been let loose. I haven’t felt like this since the island.”
They sat in companionable silence for a few moments, each lost in their own thoughts.
“Do you think that maybe Macoa had something to do with that?” Ginny asked him finally.
“I want to believe that Malfoy was lying, but… I just don’t know. Sometimes at night when I’d have trouble sleeping she’d seem to put some kind of spell on me. I thought at the time that she was helping me. I’d wake up in the morning and feel like I’d learned things while I’d been sleeping, but it never felt unsafe or sinister.”
“Harry!” Ginny cried. “Why didn’t you say anything? You should have told someone — Professor Dumbledore, Professor Hunter… even me. Merlin knows what she was doing to you!”
“I know, Ginny. Believe me, I’ve thought of that already. That’s why I need to find her. I need to know for myself what she was doing all that time.”
They finished off their food and juice, then lay back on the pillows and stared at the fire, their fingers intertwined. Both made a silent agreement to drop the subject for now.
“Ginny, can I ask you something?”
“Of course,” she answered automatically.
“What did Tom say to you the night I came back?”
He felt her tense up, but that wasn’t unexpected. He knew she wouldn’t want to talk about it, but something was telling him it was important.
“He said that there was something about me that made me his,” she said softly. “He knew I had written in his diary.”
Harry absorbed this information with trepidation. Having learned tonight that the diary had once contained part of Voldemort’s soul had gotten him thinking about Ginny and her ability to speak Parseltongue. Voldemort had been using the diary to pour his soul into Ginny and come back to life. Hearing the explanation of the Horcruxes had made him fearful not only for himself, but Ginny as well. There was a good possibility that Ginny still retained part of Voldemort’s soul — that it was lying dormant inside her somewhere, hidden from her awareness.
She looked at him warily. “Why does that upset you? You’re not… disappointed in me, are you?”
He turned to look at her sharply. “No. How could I possibly be disappointed in you? I’m the one who made a mess of things this past year. I should have fought harder… I could have stopped him, but I didn’t. I wasn’t strong enough.” His voice had taken on a bitter edge that he wasn’t proud of.
“You’re the strongest person I know,” she said confidently. “You will beat him, Harry. One of these days you’re going to give him the thrashing he deserves. I just hope I’m there to see it and help, if I can.”
They became quiet again until Harry broke the silence once more. “Do you ever wonder what it’s like on the other side?”
“You mean after we die?”
“Yeah.”
“I hope it’s really wonderful,” she said, her eyes focused on the dancing flames. “I want to believe that it’s a magical place where we can all be together forever. There’s no pain, or sickness, or hurt. Just love.”
“If it’s so wonderful, then why does Voldemort fear it, do you suppose?”
Ginny paused, thinking. “I suppose it’s because he doesn’t understand how love works. He’s never been loved — not really. Only feared. Love is a risk, Harry. Perhaps he loved something or somebody once and then had it taken away. You and I both know the grief that can cause. Mum says love can be the best thing about life, or the worst, depending on how you look at it. For Tom, death is only about loss — about not being in control. He can’t see the big picture, all he can see is what he’s losing and that scares him.”
“Did I ever tell you that my parents and Sirius talked to me? It was through a vision this summer, on the island.” He paused, noticing that he had her full attention. “It seemed so real… I-I think that if I died, they would be waiting on the other side to welcome me.”
Ginny squeezed his hand. “I think they would be. But Harry… you won’t need to see them for a very long time.” She snuggled up to him. “When this is all over we’re going to do all the things we’ve ever dreamed of. We’re going to travel the world, play Quidditch all day, lead dangerous and exciting lives by night catching baddies and solving crimes. It’s going to be perfect. When we get tired of living on the edge, we’ll settle down and have ten children, then watch them grow up and have babies of their own.”
He laughed. “You’ve planned all this out?”
She closed her eyes and sighed happily, her voice drooping with fatigue. “Haven’t you?”
He didn’t answer right away, and by the time he did she was already fast asleep. “I think…” he hesitated. “I think it sounds like a… lovely dream.”
The fire crackled as he stared at it, his mind rumbling with things left unsaid. At some point he levitated the duvet from the bed to cover them, but it was a long time before sleep finally claimed him. During that time he made many decisions. Starting tomorrow he would begin researching spells that might destroy a Horcrux without harming the thing it was encased in. There had to be something out there. He turned to look at Ginny sleeping peacefully at his side. He wanted to make all her dreams come true. That’s what love was really about… making the impossible possible, making dreams reality — not for your own benefit but for the person you loved.
“I’ll find a way, Ginny,” he whispered, kissing the top of her head. “I promise.”
Chapter 27: Look Who's Back
Author's Notes: FYI… my plans for this chapter didn’t really pan out. It fought me the whole way and I finally decided to just let it stand as is. I had hoped to include some action, but alas… that will have to wait for next chapter. Thanks to Arnel for beta reading this and to Melindaleo for giving me a boost when I needed it. I took a short break from writing for a few weeks just because I needed to get away from it and regroup. Despite my vow that this will be my last fanfiction piece, I managed to produce a detailed outline of a new fic, H/G of course, but not connected to this universe at all. I’m trying to convince Melinda to collab with me when we both finish our respective stories. She’s ‘thinking about it’, but I know she’s tempted, lol. If not, then maybe I’ll buck up and write it by myself. Who knows? I also have that piece I started called Bring Me to Life that some of you may have read on the old H/G yahoo group. I hope to finish that one too, some day. Anyway, I think the break did me some good. My spirit is renewed now, so hopefully things will begin to move again. Let me know what you think. And for those who nominated me again for the DD Silver Trinket… a big thanks! I really appreciate it. This month I’m up for several categories including Best Author, Best Drama, and Best Angst. I never considered this story angst, but now that I think about it I really can’t disagree. Lol… I do tend to lean towards the dramatics, don’t I? I’m just starting on the next chapter, so I’m not sure how long it’ll take me to get it finished but as soon as I do I’ll update. And yes… I’ll hurry! (So long as my Muse cooperates.) Thanks for reading & reviewing, and a big thanks if you voted for me!
Disclaimer:
The characters and situations of Harry Potter depicted in this story are the legal property of J.K. Rowling, Bloomsbury, and AOL Time Warner, and have been used without permission. No copyright infringement is intended.
No profit is being made off this story. It is for entertainment purposes only.
“Look Who’s Back”
The week slipped away and Harry was no closer to finding a solution to his problem than the night he had learned of the Horcruxes. He had spent a good deal of time in the library under the cover of his invisibility cloak looking for answers. But it was bloody difficult trying to nick books from the shelf and not get caught by Madame Pince or avoid being seen by some well-meaning student looking for a book to cram for their end of year exams. Luckily Ron, Hermione, and Ginny were all busy with their own exams, which left him loads of time to himself to do what he needed to do.
Not only was he searching the library for any information on Horcruxes, but he also had been searching the castle for clues about Macoa and her whereabouts. He’d started with his dorm room at a time when he knew his classmates would all be taking an exam. He hadn’t really expected to find anything and wasn’t disappointed. All his belongings had long since been removed from the dorm, and there wasn’t much to see. The bed was still in the same place with its heavy drapes and scarlet duvet looking like all the other beds in the room. The difference was that there was no longer a school trunk at the foot of the bed with his initials. The space looked too perfect — empty and cold compared to the rumpled duvets and messy floors surrounding the other beds.
For the first time he wondered about Neville, and even Seamus and Dean. None of them knew that he was back. What must it have been like for his dorm mates, especially Ron, to see his empty bed and not know what had become of him? Was Dean still holding a grudge against him? Or was he glad that Harry was gone so that he could have a chance with Ginny? Was Seamus still messing around with Lavender on the sly? How was Neville coping with Voldemort’s return?
He suddenly wished that he was back in Gryffindor Tower, preparing for the end of term just like everybody else and worrying about another guy making a move on his girlfriend. This year had been a nightmare. He had missed so much…
Before he knew it, he had allowed time to slip by and the common room was beginning to fill up with students when he made his way down the stairs. Under the invisibility cloak, he stuck close to the wall and out of the way of foot traffic, but his heart stopped when Ginny entered the common room with an armload of books. She had come from the dormitories and looked as if she may be headed to the library to return the stack of books. Harry knew she’d just taken her last OWL that morning.
He couldn’t help noticing how happy she looked and how bright her eyes were lately. Even Harry could see that she looked much healthier than she had two weeks ago since his return; the tired, pinched look was gone and she had a spring in her step that suggested she was very happy about something. To him, she was the most beautiful thing in the world.
“Well… look whose back,” a sarcastic female voice said from Harry’s left. “It’s the scarlet woman of fifth year. I wonder what wizard she’s been shacking up with lately in the school broom cupboards. I hear she’s never in her bed at night anymore.”
At first Harry didn’t know who they were talking about. Out of curiosity he looked around and in disbelief his eyes landed on Ginny who had flushed red with embarrassment.
The fourth year student making the slanderous statement was rewarded with a round of giggles from her friends sitting nearby. The girl hadn’t bothered to keep her voice low and some of the other students in the Common Room sniggered along with the fourth year girls. Harry could feel Ginny’s emotions, a mixture of shame, guilt, and something else...
She paused, then set her books on the nearest table and marched over to the group, a determined expression glinting behind her eyes.
Harry’s blood was boiling and he was itching to hex the girls, but he remembered what Ginny had said about needing to fight her own battles so he held himself in check. This was Ginny’s fight, not his.
She stopped in front of the troublemaker — Romilda… Romilda Vine… er, Vane, maybe?
“Grow up,” Ginny said, looking down on the girls with a disgusted frown.
“Excuse me?” the ringleader, Romilda said with an arrogant air about her.
“You heard me,” Ginny repeated evenly, her hand on her hips. “I said grow up. There are more important things going on in the world than my sex life. I’m tired of being the target of your gossip. Why don’t you turn your energies to the war going on? There’s a madman by the name of Voldemort on the loose out there — or have you forgotten?”
For once Harry was glad to hear the shocked gasps of the girls as Ginny boldly said the forbidden name.
But Romilda wouldn’t be cowed so easily. “What’s that got to do with me? I’m just a student.”
“Harry Potter is ‘just a student’ and he’s been fighting Voldemort since he was eleven,” Ginny retorted easily.
Comprehension dawned on the girl’s face. “Ah, I see…” Romilda said boldly. “Now I understand. We’re back to the Harry Potter fixation again. So tell me Weasley… where is your boyfriend, the great Harry Potter?”
The other girls snickered, but Ginny smiled. “For all you know, he may be in this room now,” she said with satisfaction.
Harry grimaced, knowing he was caught. Damn!
Romilda laughed and the girls followed her lead. “You are mad, aren’t you? If Harry Potter were in this room I think we’d all know it.”
When they had stopped laughing Ginny smirked. “You don’t know anything, do you? You sit here with your little gossip whores and talk about everyone else, but what you should be doing is worrying about what’s going to happen when you leave the protection of Hogwarts. There’s a war going on out there ladies, and the real mad man is Voldemort — otherwise known as Tom Riddle by those of us who have actually met him. While you’ve sat here safe at school all year my boyfriend has been out there fighting him. But does he do it for your thanks? I think not. Harry does it because he knows the difference between right and wrong. He knows what’s really important…” She looked down her nose at the silly girls, her eyes flashing. “…and what’s not.”
The girls were silent as they watched her turn, gather her books, and march back out the portrait hole. Had they been watching closely, they might have seen her pause just a second as an invisible hand touched the small of her back. And, if they had been paying attention instead of continuing on with their gossip, they might have seen her step aside just a bit more than necessary as she made room for an invisible body to climb out ahead of her into the corridor.
When the Fat Lady was safely back in her place on the wall, Ginny whispered urgently, “What do you think you were doing in there, Harry Potter?”
“Not here,” Harry whispered back. “You can yell at me all you like, but let’s go somewhere less public.”
Ginny nodded in agreement. “Fine, then. The Hideout?”
“No,” Harry said, feeling her surprise. “Too many ears there. I don’t want to have to put up with the Marauders’ antics right now, and the other two portraits will just report everything we say back to Dumbledore. Let’s go to the Room of Requirement.”
“Okay,” Ginny grumbled. “But this better be good.”
The minute they entered the room Ginny started in on him, even before he had the cloak all the way off. “What do you think you were doing sneaking around the common room!” she yelled. “You could have been caught, and how exactly would you explain that to the entire Gryffindor Tower?”
“I have to tell people eventually,” he pointed out. “I can’t hide forever — especially now that we’re certain that the Ministry won’t be coming after me. Stephen told me last night that the Ministry doesn’t have any proof that Voldemort’s Dark Price even exists, much less that it was really me.”
“And you know I’m glad about that, Harry,” she said in a calmer voice. “But do you really want people to find out you’re back by being caught out? I mean, sneaking around in an invisibility cloak and spying on your friends is not really the way I see you wanting to return.”
“You’re right, of course,” he answered truthfully. “But I needed to see if Macoa left any clues behind…”
“Honestly, Harry,” Ginny said, throwing up her hands in exasperation. “What clues could a ruddy snake actually leave?”
“I don’t know,” he said defensively, “but I couldn’t very well sit around all day and do nothing. I had to see for myself.”
There was a pause as they stared each other down. Then Ginny asked quietly. “Did you find anything, then?”
“No,” he admitted begrudgingly.
Ginny’s lips twisted in a smile but she didn’t say anything.
“I thought that maybe I might be able to see some traces of residual magic if she was doing something to me,” he explained. “But if any was leftover it’s long gone by now. I just don’t understand how she could have betrayed me. I didn’t get the feeling that she was trying to hurt me at all.”
“Sometimes it happens that way,” Ginny said gently, all traces of anger gone. “Look at your parents. They trusted Peter with their lives and yours — yet he betrayed them. I trusted Tom, and look what a mess that turned out to be. We don’t always see the signs until after the fact.”
“How could I have been so bloody stupid?”
Ginny shrugged. “I asked myself that same thing. Stop beating yourself up about this — it all turned out okay, didn’t it? At least neither one of us is dead.”
“That’s comforting, Ginny,” Harry said sarcastically.
She rolled her eyes. “You know what I mean.”
“Speaking of Tom,” Harry said carefully, “er…how are you feeling?”
Ginny’s eyes narrowed. “What do you mean by that?”
Harry tried to look innocent. He didn’t want to upset her, and have her start yelling again.
“Er… I was just wondering if you’d felt anything funny, uh… I mean odd… er… lately.”
“Harry,” Ginny said plaintively. “That was three ‘ers’ and an ‘uh’. Whenever you start talking like that I know there’s something you’re not saying. You’ve been asking me this every day for a week now and you’ve yet to give me an explanation. Why would I feel funny? What’s going on?”
Harry hesitated, not sure if he should tell her about the Horcruxes. He had struggled with whether to tell her or not because he didn’t want to alarm her, but part of him knew she deserved the truth.
“I found out something important,” he said finally, “but if it’s all the same with you I’d rather wait until I can tell you, Ron, and Hermione all at the same time. This is going to be hard enough to say once. After I tell them, then we need to have a long talk. Alone. That’s all I can say for now.”
She gave him a funny look, but said, “All right. I can live with that. It’s far better than being excluded. At least I know that whatever it is, you’ll tell me and not shut me out.”
He was taken aback by her statement. “I don’t intentionally exclude you.”
She raised her eyebrow doubtfully.
“Okay,” he admitted. “Maybe in the past I have excluded you. But that’s just because I didn’t know you very well.”
“What about all that stuff that happened on the island? You didn’t tell me much about that did you? But you told Ron and Hermione,” she said in a slightly accusing voice.
“You’re right,” he admitted reluctantly. “I did tell them. But I didn’t mean to tell them. It all just kind of came pouring out. That was the same night I gave you that egg — the one you don’t remember. The more I think about it, the more I’m certain that the egg was affecting me somehow, or maybe Macoa put a spell on me. It’s possible that if the egg was charmed, it affected you too.”
“At last we’re getting somewhere,” she pouted angrily. “You were keeping things from me on purpose, even though we communicated all summer through our dreams.”
Harry ran a hand through his already messy hair nervously. “Look, Ginny,” he said, “I never meant to keep those things from you forever. But I don’t always know how to talk about the stuff going on in my life. I didn’t tell you about Quetzalcoatl and all that prophecy stuff because I don’t know what to make of it, myself. And I didn’t tell you about the ballgame because I knew you’d worry. After it was all over, I was just glad to put it behind me and get home. The thing with the princess was all a misunderstanding, and it worked out in the end.”
“Princess?” Ginny said, suddenly alert. “What princess and what misunderstanding?”
Harry swore silently. He’d forgotten that he hadn’t told her about being betrothed to Masaya. Sighing, he asked the room for a comfortable place to talk and he sat her down on his lap and told her everything.
Her eyes were wide as she listened, but she only interrupted once to clarify. “So, you’re telling me that you were engaged to be married to this snooty princess who was really in love with this warrior — someone who wanted you dead. So he challenged you to a fight to the death, but you won. And then after you fought and destroyed a group of Lethifolds that were terrorizing the island, the three of you became friends and you got the chief to agree to let them get married, thereby letting you off the hook?” she said incredulously.
“Yeah,” Harry answered apprehensively. “That about covers it.”
“Are you out of your mind?” she exclaimed. “You could have died in that game!” She gasped, covering her mouth in horror. “Oh my! You could have been married!”
“Stephen said it wouldn’t come to that,” he said, shifting uncomfortably. “And that’s why I never told you. I knew you’d get upset and there was nothing you could do about it.”
“I knew you were stressed out about something other than Voldemort, but I had no idea,” she said looking away. “I just thought you were still going through your grieving over Sirius.”
Harry looked away, too, hoping that he hadn’t blown it. “I did some of that as well. But I think the thing that upset me the most was being so far away from you.”
He felt her melt at that statement and when he looked back the anger was gone. “I’m just glad you finally told me,” she said, reaching over and squeezing his hand reassuringly. “I can handle anything but secrets, Harry. You don’t have to tell me everything, but just try to be as honest with me as you can. You can trust me — I’m not some china doll that needs to be protected, and you don’t have to keep things from me because you think I’ll worry. I do that anyway.”
Harry took a deep breath and said, “Ginny… I am keeping something important from you. But I promise by tonight you’ll know it all. Just a few more hours, and I’ll tell you everything.”
She leaned over and pecked him on the lips in a chaste kiss. “We’d better get going or Ron and Hermione will wonder what became of us. You’re not supposed to leave The Hideout. I’m sure Hermione is having kittens by now.”
Once Harry had donned the Invisibility Cloak again and Ginny had gathered up her books, they made their way back to The Hideout by way of the library so that Ginny could return her books. As it turned out, Harry didn’t have a chance to talk to Ginny, Ron, and Hermione that night. Professor Dumbledore showed up just as Harry and Ginny got there.
“Harry,” Professor Dumbledore said with a slightly disapproving look under his half moon glasses. “I hope that you have used your time away from the safety of these rooms wisely. I would hate for all the sneaking about you have done this week to be for naught.”
Harry flushed guiltily. “Sorry, Professor. I just can’t stand being cooped up in this room all day.”
“That is precisely why I have come,” Dumbledore said, the twinkle returning to his eyes. “I think it’s time that we bring your presence here in the castle out into the open. I was hoping that you would feel up to accompanying your friends to the Great Hall tonight for dinner. I will make a short announcement concerning your return and then we can move you back into Gryffindor Tower until the end of term.”
“What will you tell the students?” Harry asked. “I mean, what should I say when people ask where I’ve been?”
Dumbledore fixed him with a steady stare. “In these cases, I think the truth is the best course of action. I will simply tell them that you have been held prisoner by Lord Voldemort but managed to escape recently. I hope you do not mind, but I also plan to ask the students to not question you about your time away unless you wish to share it with them. I rather felt that you would not be up to answering questions.”
Harry swallowed, knowing that once again he would be ogled and stared at by the student population. He should be used to it by now but he wasn’t, and he dreaded the fearful looks he was sure to get. Luckily the term was almost over.
“Professor,” Hermione asked. “What about all the work that Harry has missed? How is he to make it up?”
Harry hadn’t thought of that, but now that she brought it up he realised that he had missed practically the entire school year.
Dumbledore smiled at Hermione. “Professor McGonagall and I have been discussing this and have come to the conclusion that Mr. Potter may wish to repeat his sixth year next year. He can still stay in the same dormitory as the current sixth years, and then special arrangements can be made for a private room during his seventh year.” He turned to Harry. “It will put you a year behind, but I really see no alternative.”
Harry’s stomach lurched. “You mean I won’t be able to finish with Ron and Hermione?” He hadn’t considered this possibility, but now that it was before him he realised that eight months was too much to make up over the summer, even if he studied every day.
Ginny, however, brightened. “That means you’ll finish out with my year, Harry. Call me selfish, but I wasn’t looking forward to being here at Hogwarts for an entire year by myself after you lot left.” She squeezed his hand. “I’ve already spent most of this year without you and I don’t fancy spending another with us separated.”
“Besides, mate,” Ron said. “The twins have offered to give me a job after school. I want to be an Auror, but I knew I’d need to save up some money first. This way I can work for a year and wait for you. Then we can go together.”
Harry suddenly felt much better about the situation. “Thanks, mate,” he said gratefully.
Dumbledore clapped his hands merrily. “That sounds like an excellent plan, Mr. Weasley. I’m sure you and Mr. Potter will have no trouble being accepted into Auror training and I would be happy to give you both my personal recommendation.”
“Make that three,” Ginny piped up, then flushed. “If that’s alright with you, sir.”
“Three it is,” Dumbledore said congenially. “Miss Granger, shall I make it and even four?”
Hermione also flushed. “I’ll get back to you on that, Professor. I’m still considering my future career options.”
“Well, I’m sure that you will be successful in any career you might choose,” Dumbledore said, causing Hermione to blush even more profusely.
“Thank you, Professor,” she said sounding very pleased with the compliment.
Dumbledore checked his watch. “As it seems to be almost time for dinner to commence, would it be acceptable if you four would accompany me down to the Great Hall? I understand that Dobby is making treacle tart tonight, in honour of his favourite wizard.”
Now it was Harry’s turn to blush. “I’m ready,” he said, taking a deep breath.
Dumbledore held the door open for them and they all trouped out into the empty corridor but Hermione stopped suddenly.
“I almost forgot,” she exclaimed. “I was supposed to take the first years’ Defence Against the Dark Arts final exams to Professor Hunter before dinner.”
“Ah, yes,” Dumbledore said addressing her. “Professor Hunter asked me to pass on the message that he would be out of the castle until tomorrow. He had something very important that he had to do and he left just after his last exam. He asked that you leave the exams here in The Hideout — as you call it — and he will pick them up as soon as he returns.”
Hermione nodded and did as instructed, closing the door behind her as they left. Harry considered Stephen’s abrupt departure as they made their way to the Great Hall and he couldn’t help wondering what could be so important that Stephen had to leave the castle without telling him first. Did it have anything to do with Voldemort?
He didn’t have time to ponder the situation much, however, because before he knew it they were at the doors of the Great Hall. The group paused before entering.
“Looks like we’re late,” Ron commented nervously glancing at Harry. “You sure you’re up for this mate?”
Harry nodded grimly, feeling his mouth go dry and traces of his muteness returning. “I’ll be fine,” he managed to say, grateful to feel Ginny squeeze his hand tightly as she sent him some fortitude. He gripped her hand in return and refused to allow her to pull away. Stay with me, he sent her mentally, surprised when her face showed that she had heard him.
She nodded. “I will.”
Harry didn’t miss the thoughtful look Dumbledore was giving them or the confused expressions of his friends, but he didn’t attempt to explain. … As long as Ginny understood him, that was all that mattered.
She motioned towards the doors. “Ready?”
With renewed determination, Harry pulled open the heavy wooden doors.
At first, the student population did not take much notice of them. It wasn’t long, however, before the whispering started, and then the pointing and gasping commenced. Gradually, the student population grew unnaturally silent as the group made their way inside the Great Hall and headed to the Gryffindor table. Harry attempted to keep his breathing steady but it was difficult with the entire school staring at him.
Ginny guided him to an empty spot at the Gryffindor table but before he got very far his friends and classmates had started clapping. Soon, the clapping turned into cheering, and then the cheering was mixed with stomping. Gryffindors near him turned to shake his hand or stood to pat him jovially on the back. Almost everyone had big smiles on their faces or were shouting greetings. Harry had never expected to be welcomed back in such a manner and he was fairly certain that if they had known where he had really been they wouldn’t be so happy to see him. His hope for a quiet entrance was dashed. Amazingly, the students seemed to be celebrating his return and the Great Hall was soon erupting excited chaos.
Dumbledore quieted the room down with a loud booming voice similar to the one Harry had heard him use when the Troll had broken in the castle during his first year.
“Please give Mr. Potter some latitude,” he commanded. “He has been through a great ordeal. While I am sure he appreciates your display of happiness regarding his return, I think he would prefer a quiet reintroduction to his old life. Therefore, I ask that you not question him about where he has been. If he chooses to tell you, then I’m certain he will. Until Mr. Potter volunteers the information of his whereabouts these past months, please do not insist that he give it. And I’m sure he would appreciate you not bothering his friends, either. They have been instructed to not divulge any information on the subject without his permission.” Dumbledore paused, then clapped his hands. “Now that I have said my peace, please go back to enjoying your meal. I am told the House Elves have given us an excellent supper and I, for one, am looking forward to the treacle tart.” He then winked at Harry, turned, and made his way to the staff table.
The Hall was silent.
Still clutching Ginny’s hand tightly, Harry nodded at a few people as he sat down across from Ron and Hermione, but mostly he avoided eye contact. He knew his face must be red as a tomato and he was finding it difficult to breathe properly.
Ginny took her hand out of his to reach for a piece of chicken. Unceremoniously, she plopped it on his plate and then proceeded to fill both of their plates with a selection of foods she obviously knew Harry liked.
“Eat,” she ordered him as the noise level in the Great Hall slowly returned to normal. “You’ll thank me later. I don’t fancy having to sneak down to the kitchens to fetch you a late night snack.”
Harry gave her a tentative but grateful smile. “Yes Ma’am.”
“W-welcome back Harry,” Neville said from just down the table. “It’s good to see you again. We thought-” He stopped abruptly and turned red but everyone knew exactly what he meant to say.
“Yeah, mate,” Dean agreed, leaning in towards that table so Harry could see him. He grinned, breaking the sudden tension from Neville’s almost blunder. “We all missed seeing your ugly mug first thing in the morning,” he joked lightly. “Did you know that Ron’s taken to preening in front of the mirror before he goes downstairs, making sure that every hair is in place?”
“I do not!” Ron screeched, turning red with embarrassment. Harry didn’t miss the furtive glance towards Hermione.
“Yes, you do,” Neville said through a mouthful of food.
“Ron makes us all look bad these days,” Seamus agreed with a snort. “Not the same without you around here, mate. We can always count on your hair looking worse than anybody’s.”
Harry laughed and ran a hand through his too long hair. He had meant to ask Ginny to trim it soon, but had forgotten. “Glad to know I’m good for raising your egos,” he mumbled good-naturedly with a lopsided grin.
Ginny leaned close and ruffled his hair, sending involuntary shivers down his back. “I happen to like Harry’s messy hair. I’ve always thought it was your best feature, next to your eyes.”
Harry blushed and leaned over to give her a quick kiss on the cheek. “Thanks,” he said, smiling at her, completely unaware of the stares they were getting from his friends and the rest of the Great Hall. “But I think you may be a bit biased.”
“Not at all,” Ginny said airily, filling her glass with pumpkin juice and then reaching for his to do the same. “I’ve heard loads of girls over the years saying the same thing. I just happen to agree with them.”
“Ginny’s right, Harry,” Hermione piped in as she too filled her plate. “Girls think the messy look is sexy.”
Through his embarrassment, Harry was oddly pleased. This feeling lasted two seconds… just till Ron spoke.
“You think Harry is sexy?” Ron said, croaking out the last word like it was something foreign and dirty.
Hermione blushed. “I was just saying…”
“Harry is sexy, Ron,” Ginny said matter-of-factly, waving her fork around in an off-hand manner. “Everyone knows that.”
“Help me out, Harry,” Ron pleaded uncomfortably. “Tell them you’re not… that thing they said.”
Harry glanced at Ginny out of the corner of his eye, having caught her teasing mood. He was certain she was just trying to wind Ron up.
“You know Ron,” he said in a serious voice, “Hermione and Ginny are the smartest witches I know. If they say it, I have to believe them. Who am I to argue?”
He caught Hermione and Ginny’s eyes again and suddenly they all burst out laughing.
“You’re all barmy,” Ron grumbled.
Hermione reached over and ruffled Ron’s well-combed hair so that it stuck up all over like Harry’s did naturally.
“There you go,” she said coyly. “Now you’re sexy, too.”
Ron looked like he was trying very hard not to fix his hair, but at the same time he seemed pleased with Hermione’s comment.
Suddenly Seamus rumpled his hair, too. “How about me?” he asked Hermione. “Do I look sexy?”
“Naw,” Ron answered for her. “You just look like a git with untidy hair.”
Ginny laughed and leaned in closer towards Harry. “Sorry, Seamus,” she told the older Gryffindor. “There’s only one bloke at this table who can pull off the untidy look, and you’re not him.”
Ron and Seamus exchanged withering looks then Ron shrugged, conceding the point.
“She’s right you know,” Ron admitted without a trace of animosity. “It’s the whole celebrity thing I suppose.”
“Nope,” Harry interjected good-naturedly. “It’s the Potter charm — it gets them every time. Just ask Snape.” They all had a good chuckle over that one.
From there the conversation switched to final exams, the Quidditch season, and other matters — like who Snape had found snogging last week in his private potions storeroom. By the time Harry made it up to the common room, he felt tired from laughing so much.
Just before he headed up to bed, though, he stopped in front of the same group of fourth year girls who had given Ginny such a hard time earlier that day. Romilda Vane seemed to straighten up immediately, looking at him expectantly with a pleased expression. The other girls stopped their conversation and stared.
“You know,” he said conversationally, “it’s a funny thing about magic. It can do so much… even make a person invisible. If I were you, I’d watch who I was gossiping about from now on. You never know who might be listening.” He turned and looked at Ginny, who was talking to Hermione and not paying any attention to what Harry was doing.
Romilda followed his gaze and flushed even as the other girls paled.
“If you’ll excuse me,” he told them evenly, “I think I’ll go kiss my girlfriend good night.”
And that’s exactly what he did.
Chapter 28: The Serpent Strikes
Disclaimer:The characters and situations of Harry Potter depicted in this story are the legal property of J.K. Rowling, Bloomsbury, and AOL Time Warner, and have been used without permission. No copyright infringement is intended.
No profit is being made off this story. It is for entertainment purposes only.
“The Serpent Strikes”
Harry’s first night back in Gryffindor Tower didn’t go at all as he thought it would. After a promising start, he had happily climbed the stairs with Ron and made himself ready for bed, joking with the guys. The moon was just reaching its full apex, however, when he realised that sleep would not claim him as easily as his dorm mates. Grumpily, he punched his pillow, angry that he was the only one in the room not able to find sleep.
Lying in the dark, he listened to the night noises all around him and tried to identify what, exactly, was bothering him. The feeling of unease hadn’t been present earlier, and it wasn’t until he had lain down in his bed that the feeling had first made itself known. He had a funny feeling in the pit of his stomach. Something wasn’t right… or rather, something was off — but what was it?
A soft hissing sound suddenly permeated the other sounds of the night, and Harry sat bolt upright knowing exactly what was bothering him.
Macoa — he was sensing Macoa.
He fumbled for his wand on the bedside table and gripped it tightly, his every nerve ending on full alert.
“Show yourself,” he hissed softly in Parseltongue, a harsh edge to his voice. His eyes sought to make out the once familiar form of his friend, darting to and fro over the silent room. For once, not even Ron was snoring; all of his roommates seemed to be in a deep and peaceful sleep, almost as if it was enchanted. His heart beat faster at the thought.
“I will show mysself, Princce,” a familiar voice near the foot of his bed answered, “oncce you put your sstick of power away.”
“Why should I?” Harry shot back angrily, trying to keep his voice low. He did not make a move to comply, but instead gripped his wand even tighter. “I’ve been told things…” he said faltering slightly. “…things that make me think you might not be trustworthy. Tell me, Macoa. Why should I trust you?”
The form of the snake shimmered and then became visible, wrapped tightly around one of the bedposts. Her green eyes glowed in the dark, casting an eerie light out into the darkness. Harry realised suddenly that she had made herself invisible and wondered if she had been doing that trick all along. He had always thought it strange that Stephen, who was deathly afraid of snakes, hadn’t reacted to him carrying Macoa around his neck for the latter part of last summer. In fact, he could recall only a few times when he had seemed to acknowledge that he had seen her, even when she is in plain sight.
“You should trusst me becausse I am your friend and protector, Harry Potter,” she answered. “I am your faithful sservent. Anyone who ssays different iss a liar.”
“Then where have you been all year?” he asked suspiciously, still not lowering his wand.
“When you where taken by the Shadow, I found mysself in a dire ssituation,” Macoa explained, uncoiling herself from the bedpost and coming closer, ignoring Harry’s wand and stiff posture. “I told you oncce that I could adapt to any environment, sso long as you were with me. When you were taken, I wass ssuddenly overcome by the cold, and I found mysself sseeking a ssafe and warm placce to ssleep through the winter. I have only jusst found mysself awake, and wass out sseeking food when I ssensed your magical vibrationss and came to find you.”
“So, you were in hibernation this whole time?” Harry asked in disbelief. “If that’s true, then why did Malfoy say that you were behind the plot to get me captured?”
“Who iss thiss Malfoy?” Macoa asked curiously. “Iss he a friend?”
Harry lowered his wand but did not loosen his grip or attempt to put it down. “No, he’s not a friend.”
“Doess this human have a reputation for sspeaking the truth?”
Harry almost laughed at that, relaxing slightly. “No.”
“If he iss not a friend and he iss not a truthful human, then why would you believe anything he hass to ssay?” Macoa asked reasonably.
“What about your egg?” Harry asked, suddenly remembering the other reason he had suspected Macoa of betrayal. Harry tightened his grip again on his wand, determined to not let her hypnotize him and fill his head with lies.
“You gave it to your Princesss, did you not?” she said calmly. Harry could sense no signs of animosity coming from the snake, but her words angered him.
“I bloody well did!” he whispered fiercely. “Only now she can’t remember anything about it. It’s like it never existed.”
Unexpectedly, Macoa seemed to get upset by this statement. “Tell me what happened, Princce… quickly,” she said with an almost sad tone to her imploring voice. “Wass she in danger at ssome point ssoon after I gave you the egg?”
“Yes,” Harry said slowly. “It was the night I disappeared, I think. I was attacked near my home in Surrey. I was alone and I used the link to have Ginny get help, only she couldn’t get the gargoyle to move so she told me she was going to find Snape. I blacked out after that, but later they tricked me into thinking that she was dead and Snape…” His eyes widened. “…Snape was there! He was in the cave where I was being held. I don’t know why I forgot all about that, but he was there.”
“Iss this Ssnape a trustworthy human?” Mocoa asked.
That was a good question — one that Harry didn’t know the answer to, unfortunately. “I-I don’t know.”
“Could your Princesss have been in mortal peril if she had come into contact with this Ssnape?”
“Maybe,” Harry answered truthfully. “I don’t know. Dumbledore trusts him, but I never have.”
“Doess your Princesss remember anything elsse?” she asked.
“Ginny said she doesn’t remember much from that night. All I know is that she told me she was going to look for Snape, then later McGonagall found her almost passed out in front of the statue. She was practically hysterical for days, I’m told. She doesn’t remember anything, even though it was probably several hours and she has no memory of the egg. Tell me what you know, Macoa,” he demanded.
“The egg was part of me… an extenssion of my protection,” she told him in a serious voice. “ This ssummer when I ssaw the attachment between you and your human, I knew that she wass the Key and had a great desstiny to fulfil. You were very worried about her, sso I performed a bit of complicated magic and made an offsspring — a way to extend the protection I was ssent to give you and include your Bond Mate. In doing thiss, I lesssened the protection around you, My Princce, and for that I am very ssorry. However, I ssensed that her ssafety would bring you great relief. Wass I wrong?”
“Ginny’s safety is one of my top priorities,” Harry admitted. “So… if the egg was protecting her, why doesn’t she remember it? …And why doesn’t she still have it?” Harry’s eyes narrowed. “For that matter, why did I feel so funny when I had it, and why did I blab all that stuff to my friends?”
“The egg wass almosst ripe when I gave it to you to give to her. I am not ccertain what ‘blab’ meanss, but the egg wass not attuned to your magic. I had made it sspecifically for your Ginny, and it was meant to be carried by her until it hatched. By carrying it, you may have gotten a bit…”
“Loopy?” Harry suggested, thinking back at how drunk he had felt.
“Happier than ussual,” Macoa agreed. “Like a man who hass had too much to drink. It might have loossened your tongue a bit — ssomething I should have warned you about. The only thing that could interrupt the hatching wass if your lady wass in mortal peril. In that casse, the protection sspell would override the hatching to keep her from harm. If thiss happened, she would have been marked by the magic and it could have affected her memory. Unfortunately, it would have destroyed the egg and the being inside it,” she said sadly.
“What do you mean by marked?” Harry asked.
“She would have the image of the hatchling embedded ssomewhere on her body, although it may not be visible,” Macoa explained. “My kind have a talent for remaining unsseen unlesss we want to be sseen. The day I gave you the egg, for insstancce, your dorm mate — the dark sskinned one — wass ssneaking around your belongingss looking for cluess that you and your human were more than friends. I made mysself appear in order to sscare him away. If the egg wass forcced to hatch early, she would have the image on her sskin, but it might not be evident to her or anyone elsse unlesss they knew what to look for.”
“How can I tell if it’s there?” Harry asked.
“Conccentrate on her armss and legss — the mosst obviouss placces first. If the hatchling wass sstrong it would have encircled a part of her for greater protection. You will have to tune in to the magic ssurrounding her ussing your ssensing abilitiess. If there sseemss to be a greater amount of magic coming from a ccertain area, it iss the hatchling and you will be able to ssee it. The magic will be green, like a ccircle.”
“Okay,” Harry said finally, “I have one last question. Say I believe you and I come to the conclusion that you weren’t trying to harm me or Ginny. How do you explain why my magic was weaker since I came to Hogwarts. And why do I get the feeling you were hypnotizing me?”
Macoa seemed surprised by this question. “You were making yoursself weaker on purposse, Princce, by binding your magic. Do you not remember?”
“Binding my magic?” Harry repeated, perplexed. …However, it did seem vaguely familiar. “Why would I want to do that?”
“We were doing thiss as part of your training,” Macoa explained. “At night, we were visiting the Ancient Oness and learning wayss to defeat the Dark One by binding magic. Even if Tezcatlipoca iss killed, hiss magic will not die and it will become part of the Darknesss that even now iss ssqueezing this land. By binding his magic, he can be killed… but his magic will not be accesssible to the evil forcess who would only give it to another. You were practiccing this sspell on yourself, binding your own magic a little bit at a time. Ssince you are very powerful, we reassoned that it would not harm you, and it could be reverssed once you had learned the sspell.”
Harry suddenly understood, feeling like his eyes were opened wide for the first time. “I remember now,” he said excitedly. “I remember practicing that spell. It took a long time to get it right, and I was only beginning to master it when I was abducted. That’s why I wasn’t able to sense the attack. Normally, I would have felt the presence of that much Dark Magic around me long before they had a chance to ambush me. And I probably could have put up a much better fight, too.”
“Yess,” Macoa agreed. “We knew we were taking a chancce by doing it that way, but there really wass no other option. You refussed to casst the sspell on me for fear that you might hurt me and insstead chosse to do it on yoursself.”
“If this is true — and I’m still not entirely convinced that it is — then how did Malfoy know about you?” Harry mused out loud.
“Perhapss he overheard one of your friendss or dorm matess sspeaking of me,” Macoa suggested. “I did frighten the dark sskinned one very badly, I think.”
Harry nodded. “I’ll ask Ron tomorrow. Maybe he’ll know.”
“In the meantime, I wish to welcome you back, Princce,” Macoa said. “I was very conccerned for your ssafety. The prophecy ssaid that you would fall prey to the Shadow, but I had hoped it could be avoided.”
“Yeah,” Harry agreed, suddenly feeling sleepy. He yawned. “M-me, too.” He felt his head sink into the pillow and his wand slip from his fingers.
“Macoa…” he said sleepily.
“Yess, Princce?”
“Don’t kill me in my sleep, okay?”
“No, my Princce. I mosst ccertainly will not.”
“Thanks,” he said just before he drifted off into nothingness.
***
Harry was glad to find himself alive and unharmed in the morning. He supposed that added credence to Macoa’s explanation. After all, if she had wanted to harm him she could have easily done it during the night. In fact, when he woke up she was curled around his arm with her head resting on his chest. Luckily, he wasn’t one to move about in his sleep otherwise she might have been crushed. He found her presence strangely comforting; it was the first night in a week that he hadn’t woken up with Ginny next to him and it made him feel less alone — even if he wasn’t certain yet where Macoa’s loyalties lay.
Vowing not to let the snake out of his sight until he had checked out her story, Harry dressed quickly in the empty dorm room then asked her if she minded if he carried her around that day. Macoa agreed without hesitation. She was too big to stay under his robes — and people might notice the lump moving anyway and question him about it anyway — but she could be carried on his neck. It turned out the she did have the ability to remain invisible unless she wanted to be seen, so this was not a problem. Besides, there was only a few more days left of the term. Everyone else had finished their exams and was just waiting for the final results to be posted. The final Quidditch match between Gryffindor and Hufflepuff had already been played a week and a half ago, with Gryffindor once again taking the Cup. Ron had done an excellent job of captain despite all the pressure he’d been under since Harry’s abrupt disappearance. Harry had even managed to catch a bit of the match from under his invisibility cloak until the bright sun had started to make him nauseous. That had been soon after his release from the hospital wing and everything had still been… difficult. Nevertheless, it was nice to see his House win once again — and even better to see his best friend get some well-deserved acclaim. It was one of the few things Harry had to celebrate from this year.
Making his way down to the common room, he was surprised to find it empty. A quick check of his watch told him the reason — everyone must be at breakfast. Confused as to why no one had woken him up, he made his way to the Great Hall.
“Hey, sleepy head,” Ginny greeted him with a kiss, startling him as he slid into the seat beside her. Thankfully, he managed to move just the right way to avoid Ginny bumping into the invisible form of Macoa. “Ron asked me if he should wake you, but I told him to let you sleep. I know you’ve had precious little of it lately.”
“Thanks,” he said gratefully. He shifted nervously as Macoa slithered down his arm and into his lap. “I did have a rather unusual night last night,” he practically squeaked.
Ginny gave him an odd look. “What’s wrong?” she asked curiously.
Harry looked over at Ron and Hermione who were also giving him odd looks, but he couldn’t help it. The active snake was making it difficult to act normally, especially where she was currently situated.
“Nothing,” he lied, jerking again. “What makes you think something is wrong?”
“Dunno, mate,” Ron answered. “Maybe it’s that twitchy thing you’re doing over there. I’ve never seen you looking so…” Ron gestured with his hands as if trying to think of the appropriate word to use.
“…jumpy,” Hermione finished for him impatiently. “You’re practically bouncing out of your seat, Harry. What’s wrong?”
Harry made a face and casually tried to adjust Macoa, who was winding around his leg now, into less distracting position.
Giving up, he finally whispered, “Stop that and behave yourself,” in Parseltongue. “I thought we agreed you’d stay on my neck.”
Ginny’s eyes widened as Macoa answered back, “But I’m hungry. I never did get to hunt my dinner lasst night, you might recall. I wass hoping to sspy a nicce mousse or rat under the table, or at the very leasst a few big sspiderss.”
“What is she doing here?” Ginny asked, alarmed. “I thought-”
“I’m not so sure anymore,” Harry said, cutting her off. “She found me last night and we had a long chat. I don’t think she meant to harm me, but I’m still trying to get to the bottom of it.”
“Umm…” Ron said, confused. “What are we talking about? And why are you doing that hissing thing you do, Harry? It’s really creepy.”
“He’s speaking Parseltongue, Ron,” Ginny snapped in a hushed whisper. Harry was thankful no one else was sitting near them today. “…And he’s talking to his snake, Macoa.”
Hermione’s eyes widened in terror; Harry thought she was actually debating with herself if she should stay or run. “Is it here?”
“Yes,” Harry said, reaching for the bacon.
“You mean here in the castle… or here at the table?” Ron said, gulping. His face had turned very pale.
“Here at the table,” Harry said calmly, spooning some jam on his toast. “Actually, she’s hungry and she’s looking for food.” He eyed his bacon critically. “Do you think I could get away with transfiguring one of these into a mouse?”
Ron shuddered but Hermione looked thoughtful. “I suppose it wouldn’t be that difficult since it’s basically an animal to animal type of transfiguration. Academically speaking, it is possible, but-”
“Good,” Harry said, cupping a piece in one hand and waving his other hand over it. Suddenly the bacon had become a tiny, wiggling white mouse. Harry suspended it by the tail in the general direction of where he supposed Macoa’s invisible head would be under the table. He could have sworn he heard Macoa give a squeal of delight just before she swallowed it whole. Harry was just grateful she hadn’t tried to take off a finger in her enthusiasm.
Ginny, who could see and hear the whole thing, wrinkled her nose. “Not much for table manners, is she?” she quipped dryly. “Tell me again what she’s doing here. From what Malfoy said, she’s been working for the other side. ‘Never trust a snake — especially the magical ones,’ remember? And why is she invisible, anyway?”
“She found me last night in my dorm room,” Harry explained. “Like I said… we had a nice long chat about everything and I think there’s a good possibility that Malfoy was lying. Macoa’s been in hibernation this whole time, so she couldn’t possibly have been working for Voldemort. Besides… if she had betrayed me, don’t you think Voldemort would have taunted me with that information? When I was… his prisoner…”
Harry paused because it was still difficult to talk about, even with his friends. Ginny reached for his hand, sending him strength.
“When I was with him,” Harry continued, “he liked to torment me with his plans. He told me he’d sent someone to kill Dumbledore. Later I found out it was Draco who was sent to do the job. If he succeeded, Voldemort was going to get Lucius out of Azkaban. But no one expected him to succeed. It was a bit of a joke, really… payback for Lucius getting himself captured. Voldemort wanted to punish Lucius and Narcissa by giving Draco such an impossible mission. If he doesn’t get the job done by the end of the school year, then Draco will be punished as well — most likely by Voldemort’s own hand. I don’t think he plans to kill him, but it won’t be pretty, either.”
“Have you warned Dumbledore about this?” Hermione fretted.
“He knows,” Harry said, remembering the conversation they’d had about it a few nights ago. “In fact, he’s known about Draco all year.”
“Then why has he allowed him to stay here?” Ginny gasped.
Harry shrugged. “I think he’d rather keep Draco close where he can keep an eye on him. If he kicked him out, who knows what Draco would do? I also think Dumbledore is still hoping he’ll change sides, but I’m not holding my breath on that one.”
“But how did Draco know about Macoa?” Ginny asked. “He sounded really convincing — he even called her by her name.”
“Maybe he overheard one of us talking about her,” Hermione suggested. Her eyes lit up. “Ginny… didn’t Dean corner you earlier this year ask you about Macoa, specifically?”
“Yes, now that you mention it… he did,” Ginny admitted thoughtfully. “I had forgotten about that. I was in the library trying to study — it was before you disappeared, Harry. Dean thought Macoa had tried to attack him or something.” She furrowed her brow in concentration. “I told him that Macoa was a magical snake and that Harry trusted her, and I told him he was being ridiculous if he thought that Harry was Dark. He said that he knew Harry wasn’t Dark but he found it really odd that you’d been keeping a dangerous snake in your dorm since the beginning of the year without telling anyone. I begged him to drop it and leave it be — you were under enough pressure as it was and I didn’t think Dean’s paranoia would help your stress level.”
“Wait…!” Ron interjected. “A few days after you disappeared Dean pulled me aside at the end of potions and asked me what I knew about your snake. I told him that you had found her on vacation and that she was someone you trusted… someone you confided in. He questioned me about that and I brushed him off. After all, you were gone and by then she’d disappeared, too. It didn’t matter to me how you’d managed to get captured, just that we find a way to get you back. He dropped it after that and never mentioned it again.”
“I bet Malfoy overheard both your conversations,” Harry deduced. “That’s how he knew about Macoa. Maybe he was just trying to wind me up the other night in the corridor.”
“It certainly sounds that way,” Hermione said shrewdly. “That would be just like Malfoy.”
“But what about the other things?” Ginny asked pointedly.
“Macoa had reasonable explanations for those, too,” Harry said, continuing to eat his breakfast. “I’ll fill you in on everything later. We never got to have that conversation last night, so I can tell you everything at once.” He was glad the others seemed to accept this — even Ginny. Looking around he noticed that Stephen wasn’t among the teachers at the staff table. “Has anyone seen Professor Hunter?”
Ron shook his head. “Not since yesterday.”
“I don’t think he’s back yet,” Hermione said, failing to hide her concern. “I hope he didn’t run into trouble.”
“Me, too,” Harry agreed, feeling very uneasy.
“I’m sure he’s all right,” Ginny reassured. “When you were gone he’d disappear for days, but he’d always come back.”
“That was different,” Harry said, meeting her eye. “He was gathering information, trying to find me. Wherever he went this time didn’t have anything to do with me. I just wish he had said something before he disappeared.” Harry didn’t want to admit it, but he was worried about Stephen.
They didn’t have the opportunity to discuss it anymore because at that moment the Great Hall was filled with the morning post owls swooping in to deliver the mail. To everyone’s surprise, an unfamiliar eagle owl plopped a medium sized box on the table in from of Ginny.
“What’s this?” she said curiously. “I wasn’t expecting anything.”
“Maybe Mum hired an owl to send you something,” Ron suggested, taking a large bite out of an apple. “That package looks heavy — I doubt Errol could have handled it without keeling over for good,” he added though a mouthful of fruit.
“Don’t talk with your mouth full,” Hermione said automatically. “Who is it from, Ginny?”
Ginny looked over the box. “Funny… there isn’t a note,” she said. Shrugging, she opened the flap. “Maybe it’s inside.”
Something about this just didn’t make sense to Harry. First Stephen disappears, and now Ginny gets a strange box from a strange owl with no note attached. He was about to open his mouth to voice his concerns when he froze. Ginny was pulling an object from the box… an object that looked very familiar to Harry, while at the same time totally unfamiliar. He’d never seen it before in his life, but he knew it. It was a small statue of a coiled snake, its mouth open and ready to strike. But the strange thing about it was that it looked exactly like Macoa except for a strange symbol on its head. The green paint was chipping in places, but it was the same size and shape as his friend. The hairs on the back of Harry’s neck prickled in warning. It was definitely Mesoamerican, most likely Mixtec in origin.
“Ginny, wait!” Harry shouted.
“What-” Ginny started to say in surprise, but she didn’t get any further.
Several things happened at once. Underneath the table Macoa let off a high-pitched hiss of warning just as the serpent statue sprayed Ginny with a fine green mist. A shield seemed to envelope her almost immediately absorbing most of the magical poison, but Ginny’s eyes rolled in the back of her head anyway and she would have dropped to the floor had Harry not caught her. Around him chaos was ensuing — Ron was yelling, Hermione was panicking, and students were screaming.
Ginny was out cold.
Harry patted her face trying to wake her, oblivious to everything going on around him. “Ginny! Wake up… please.”
As Harry tried to rouse Ginny, McGonagall and several other teachers were by his side. “Mr. Potter, what is the meaning of this?” she asked in a shrill voice. “What is that thing? What happened here?” she asked, gesturing to the menacing-looking statue sitting ominously on the table and Ginny’s unconscious form.
It had stopped emitting that awful green mist, but Harry’s anger got the better of him. He raised his wand to splinter it into a thousand pieces just as Dumbledore stepped up behind him.
“Stop!” Dumbledore’s voice boomed just as Harry was about to form the words of the curse. He placed a withered hand on Harry’s shoulder. “I don’t think you want to do that.” He waved his own wand and the statue vanished. “We need it intact to find out what it is, and to try to determine who sent it.”
Harry stared at the empty spot where the stone snake had once stood wishing he had a release for the rage boiling in his veins. In the dark recesses of his mind he thought he heard laughter, but he quickly shut it off behind his strongest Occlumency shield. Voldemort would get his full attention once he was sure that Ginny would be all right.
Everyone was now gathered around the still form cradled in Harry’s arms.
“She doesn’t look like she’s breathing, Albus,” McGonagall said in her most worried voice, her hand to her chest.
Harry knew that whatever had happened to Ginny, she wasn’t dead. It felt more like she was in a deep, deep sleep. Using their link, he could feel her consciousness, just barely there, lying dormant — almost like she was in a coma.
“She’s not dead,” Harry snapped, gripping her tighter.
“Are you sure, Harry?” Dumbledore asked him with a hint of doubt edging his voice.
“Positive,” Harry said with authority. “I can still sense her, but it’s like she’s asleep and I can’t rouse her.”
“We should take her to Madame Pomfrey straight away, Albus,” McGonagall said gently. “The students…”
“Move out of the way, Potter,” Snape’s silky voice insisted from somewhere behind him. “The staff can handle this.” Harry hadn’t even realised the Potions professor was there among the teachers, and it caused his anger to explode given everything he had remembered the night before about the cavern.
He whipped around sharply and pointed his wand at Snape, keeping his other arm around Ginny protectively. “Lay one finger on her and you’ll wish you were dead.”
The teachers and students around him — all but Snape and Dumbledore — murmured a collective gasp of shock and shrank back at Harry’s words. Snape just glared at him hatefully while Dumbledore looked perplexed.
“You don’t want to do that,” Dumbledore said softly. “You need to get Ginny to the hospital wing.”
Harry lowered his wand slowly but didn’t take his eyes off Snape. “Get him out of my sight, first. I want him far away from me, and even farther from Ginny.”
“Harry,” Dumbledore said patiently, “Professor Snape is only-”
“I saw him in the cavern, Professor,” Harry said hatefully. “He was there… he watched it all happen and he did nothing to help me. He’s Voldemort’s, whether you want to believe it or not. No one stops being a Death Eater. Trust me.”
“I do trust you, Harry,” Dumbledore said evenly. “But in this case you are wrong. Come now… we’ll discuss this further in private as soon as we get Miss Weasley the medical attention that she needs. We are wasting precious time.”
Harry looked down at Ginny — her head was still cradled in his lap and one of his arms rested protectively around her — and relented.
“All right,” he said in a low voice. “But keep him away,” he gestured towards Snape, “or I’ll follow through on my threat. I swear it. That goes for Draco Malfoy, too.”
“Can you manage her then, Harry?” Dumbledore asked. “Or do you require assistance?”
Harry didn’t reply but stood, half levitating Ginny using his wandless magic and half carrying her firmly in his arms, and walked out of the Great Hall all the way up to the hospital wing.
Madame Pomfrey was tending to a First-Year with the sniffles when the entourage burst through the door to the Hospital Wing, led by Harry carrying a lifeless Ginny.
“What is the meaning of this, Potter?” she bellowed before catching sight of the Headmaster, a band of teachers, Ron, Hermione, and the unconscious girl. “Oh my!” she exclaimed, rushing over to him. “Albus, what’s happened? How did she get like this?”
“That’s exactly what we intend to find out, Poppy,” Dumbledore told her grimly. “We need you to check her over. Harry seems to think she’s alive, although…” He exchanged worried looks with McGonagall and left the rest unsaid.
“Set her on the bed, Potter,” Madame Pomfrey snapped, pointing to the nearest bed. Harry couldn’t help but see the irony that it was the very same one he had been led to not long ago — the one he had hidden under when Hermione brightened the room. “Gently, now.”
Harry didn’t have to be told to be gentle. This was Ginny in his arms — the other half of his soul. Already he was feeling the effects of her absence. It was like a gaping hole inside his chest, but he held on to the certainty that she was not dead… merely in a type of enchanted sleep. Her soul was still in there, he could feel it
He watched silently as Madame Pomfrey ran her wand up and down the length of Ginny’s body, frowning. She seemed to take extra time around Ginny’s head, muttering to herself and shaking her own head sadly.
Finally she looked up with defeated eyes. “I’m sorry,” she said with a hitch in her voice. “There’s nothing to be done. She’s gone.”
Harry furrowed his brow. “No,” he said insistently. “Look again. She not dead… I can still sense her. She’s in there.”
Madame Pomfrey performed the same scan, this time taking even longer to come to the same conclusion. “I’m not getting any brain activity. All of her vital organs have shut down...”
Anger and rage leapt once again to the surface and the window panes began to rattle. “I don’t care what your bloody diagnostic says! Ginny is not dead. She’s in there, I tell you. We have to do something to help her!” he raged. Everyone in the room looked at him warily as he paced the length of Ginny’s bed. The First-Year, who was standing frozen nearby, squeaked at a glance from Harry and ran out of the room. “I need to talk to Stephen,” he growled.
“Why is that, Harry?” Dumbledore asked in an even voice. Harry knew the old wizard was just trying to distract him — to keep him calm by talking, but he didn’t care.
“That statue was from the island,” he snapped furiously. “I recognize the design. I’m hoping that Stephen will know what it was and what we need to do to help her.”
Madame Pomfrey looked up, surprised. “Statue? What’s this?”
“My sister was delivered a package this morning,” Ron answered heavily, like he was fighting back his grief. “It was a sort of statue of a stone snake. It sprayed her with a kind of green mist…”
Harry saw the scene in his mind’s eye… Ginny opening the package, looking at the snake, and then the mist and… something else. A shield.
“Wait a minute,” he exclaimed loudly, causing the others to jump. He rushed back to Ginny’s side and began searching for something, using every sensing trick he’d picked up over the summer. Using his hands, he moved them around Ginny’s arms and legs in much the same way Madame Pomfrey had when she had been doing the diagnostic spell, searching for the ring of magic Macoa had told him about. Frustrated when he didn’t find anything, he refused to give up, continuing searching. When he got to Ginny’s abdomen, his hands suddenly felt hot — as if they were on fire. Not caring that he was in a room full of adults, including Ginny’s brother, he pulled her robes open and ripped her shirt, ignoring the gasps from the females present and the sharp protest from Ron.
Harry almost laughed in relief. “There!” he cried. “Do you see it?”
Everyone moved closer to examine Ginny’s stomach, looking at each other perplexed. It was obvious that they couldn’t see it.
“What are we looking for, Harry?” Dumbledore asked patiently.
“Macoa…” Harry muttered. “I need Macoa.”
“I am here, Princce,” she hissed from the doorway. “You left me behind and I had to wait until the path cleared to avoid being trampled.”
“Sorry,” he hissed back, feeling both guilty and relieved to see her. “I was a bit preoccupied at the time.”
“What are you doing Potter?” McGonagall whispered loudly, her eyes wide. “Albus, the boy has surely gone barking mad! First assaulting poor Miss Weasley, now he’s hissing at the walls. You need to put a stop to this nonsense.”
“Not yet, Minerva,” Dumbledore answered shrewdly. “I want to see where this is going.”
“Are you still invisible?” Harry asked Macoa. “If you are, I need you to reveal yourself before I get thrown in St. Mungo’s wearing nothing but a straight jacket.”
“Ccertainly…but what is a sstraight jacket?”
“I’ll explain later,” Harry hissed sharply. “Just do it.”
Without further debate, Macoa appeared as if out of thin air causing everyone to jump.
“Oh my!” McGonagall exclaimed.
“That’s a s-snake!” Madame Pomfrey screeched shrilly, pointing to Macoa who was making her way towards Harry. Everyone parted as if she was Moses and they were the Red Sea, giving her a wide berth.
“Honesstly,” she snapped at Harry indignantly, obviously annoyed by the reaction. “I’ll never understand the prejudicess humanss have against my kind. We’re not all bad, you know.”
“Try being a human who speaks your language,” Harry said dryly. “But never mind that. I need you to look at Ginny and tell me what you see.”
Harry bent down and lifted her up so that she could get a better look.
“It is the hatchling,” she said with a hint of sadness mixed with pride. “I cannot believe it! The hatchling musst have been very powerful, Princce, to have circled her waisst. It is protecting her sstill… even in the facce of the Cochicoatl.”
“What is the Cochicoatl?”
“The Ssnake of Deadly Ssleep,” Macoa answered. “It wass once ussed as a weapon on an ancient enemy and hass been passsed down through the people, ussed as a bargaining tool.”
“What kind of bargaining tool?” Harry asked. “So I’m right… she’s not dead?”
“The venom of the Cochicoatl causess the victim to sleep like the dead until the antidote is given,” Macoa explained. “If it is ussed on the loved one of an enemy, the victim iss held in the grassp of the one who sent it becausse the antidote can only be administered in one place on earth, and musst be given within sseven dayss or the victim passess from this realm forever.”
Harry’s eye’s lit hopefully. “Where is this place?”
“The Temple of the Ancient Oness, on the island of Tlilli Tlapalla.”
It couldn’t be that simple. “And what is the antidote?” he asked in a tentative voice.
Macoa looked at him directly, her jewel-like eyes boring into his. “The blood of the enemy.”
A chill went down Harry’s spine. “What does that mean?”
“It meanss that Tezcatlipoca has issued you a challenge. He iss holding your Princesss hostage and forccing you into a place where he knowss you must go to save her. Only your blood can ssave her now.”
Harry placed Macoa around his neck and resumed his pacing, unaware of the others in the room staring at him as if transfixed, silently watching this exchange in horrified fascination. Once or twice one of them had tried to interrupt the exchange, but Dumbledore had silenced them all before anyone could utter a sound.
“How much blood are we talking about?” he asked Macoa calmly.
“I do not know. The antidote is written in the bookss guarded by the priestss of the island. The ansswer to that is on Tlilli Tlapalla.”
“I’ll worry about that later,” Harry decided.
“But what of your enemy, Tezcatlipoca, my Princce?” Macoa asked, concerned. “He will follow you, I’m ccertain.”
“Voldemort doesn’t know how to get to the island,” Harry reasoned. “He may not even know anything about this. Maybe he just thought it was some kind of weapon or something… some Dark Artefact that he came across.” Harry’s eyes narrowed dangerously, a thought having sprung into his head. “I bet Stephen knows something about this. … Anyway, there’s no reason to think that I might be in danger. We’ll just have to be careful, that’s all.”
“I hope you are right, Princce,” Macoa said doubtfully.
“Right, then,” he mused out loud in his native tongue. “We really don’t have a choice, do we?”
“Regarding what, Harry?” Dumbledore asked curiously. “Please… enlighten us. You and your friend seemed to be having quite the conversation.”
“This isn’t over,” Harry stated in a strong, determined voice. “She isn’t dead — she’s in an enchanted sleep, and I know where to get the antidote. We have seven days to get it before this becomes permanent.”
“Do not forget about the hatchling,” Macoa advised. “We do not know what effect that has had on the poison.”
“Right,” Harry answered. “I don’t have time to explain, but there are some other factors to consider. Ginny is being protected magically. There is an invisible band circling her waist here that may have shielded some of the venom from the Cochicoatl — the thing that sprayed her. I need to find Stephen as soon as possible.”
“Professor Hunter has not returned,” Dumbledore said with a grimace. “I had expected him back last night, but as of yet I have had no word.”
As if on cue there was a tap at the window causing them all to startle. Harry looked over to see a Snowy Owl flapping its large wings to stay aloft, a letter clutched in its beak. At first he thought it was Hedwig, but as he moved to open the window he realized it was, in fact, Zeus — Stephen’s faithful owl.
“What have you got there, old boy?” Harry crooned soothingly to the bird as it hopping inside. Macoa, still around Harry’s neck, hissed and recoiled at the proximity, then promptly turned invisible and slithered away. Zeus, however, seemed to have other things on his mind. He shoved the letter towards Harry insistently.
He immediately recognized the writing. “It’s from Stephen,” he told the group.
“What does it say?” Hermione asked, moving closer. Now that Macoa was once again invisible, she seemed to have lost some of her fear.
Send help. Zeus knows where to go.
SH
“He’s in trouble,” Harry said. “I have to go help him.”
“Harry,” Hermione said, grabbing his arm. “You can’t go rushing off. You have no idea what you’re walking into. It could be a trap, and we only just got you back.”
“Ginny needs you, mate,” Ron added. “If you say she’s not dead, then I believe you. But if that’s the case, then we need you here to help her snap out of this.”
“I am trying to help her,” Harry insisted. “But I can’t do it without Stephen.” He glanced at Zeus and then at the rest of them, finally locking eyes with Dumbledore. “I have to do this,” he told them. “Take care of her for me… I’ll be back soon.”
“What are you going to do?” Hermione asked, then promptly screamed as her best friend changed on the spot into a brown Barn Owl and followed Zeus out the open window, soaring on powerful wings.
“Blimey,” Ron breathed.
Hermione turned to the shocked adults with wide eyes. “What just happened?”
Unfortunately, she was met with confused silence.
[A/N: Thanks, as always to my wonderful beta, Arnel, and my pre-beta, Melindaleo, as well as to everyone who has sent me encouraging words. I am trying to finish this story but real life continues to be a distraction. With my kids home from school, summer activities, a friend in the hospital, moving to a new house, and my beta work with Checkmated there’s been plenty to keep me away from writing. I’m getting there, though. The next chapter is well on its way and I hope to have it to you by next week. I know I promised action in this one, and there was to some degree, but more is coming. Wait for it… In the meantime, have a good week and hopefully I’ll see you next Friday.]
Chapter 29: Revisiting the Past
Disclaimer:The characters and situations of Harry Potter depicted in this story are the legal property of J.K. Rowling, Bloomsbury, and AOL Time Warner, and have been used without permission. No copyright infringement is intended.
No profit is being made off this story. It is for entertainment purposes only.
“Revisiting the Past”
Stephen had not been to Mariah and Adam’s grave since the day they were put in the ground, and he barely recalled anything about the funeral. He had been in shock, still reeling from his recent incarceration in Voldemort’s custody, grieving… the guilt of failing them pushing on him so that he could think of nothing else. His whole world — and part of his sanity — had come crashing down around his ankles and he couldn’t bare it. So he had left. But no matter where he had gone, where he had tried to run off to, the guilt always followed. He couldn’t deny the fact that he had not been there when they needed him most.
He wasn’t sure what was calling him to revisit the past, but with Harry back he had begun to think about his wife and son even more than before and suddenly he had an overwhelming need to come here — to make peace with the past. He knew Mariah would be furious that he had put it off this long. She never had any expectations of him and would have thought his brooding silly; she was a very capable and independent witch who understood the nuances of his job and accepted that he couldn’t always be there for her. Truthfully, that was what had first attracted him. Most women had a difficult time reconciling the fact that an Auror’s life wasn’t their own. The case always came first.
But Mariah had been a healer, and she knew all about the pressures of the job. She was as wrapped up in her work as Stephen. Their relationship shouldn’t have worked, but it did. Somehow they managed to build a life together, and then one day they had Adam and everything changed. They were suddenly more focused on each other and home, worrying less about the job and more about what they were missing in their son’s life. Mariah gave up her job at St. Mungo’s and Stephen cut back on his hours by resigning his position as a trainer of new recruits. They had saved a good bit of money and Mariah’s parents had left her a fair share tucked away in a vault in Gringotts so, luckily, they could afford it. Life became somewhat of a comfortable routine. Then Stephen’s job had begun to heat up with Voldemort’s increased activity. Stephen had been instrumental in foiling Voldemort’s plans on numerous occasions, planning out and leading several high profile operations and landing himself on the front pages of the Daily Prophet almost weekly. Then he was captured. Dumbledore, with help from James Potter and Sirius Black, had gotten him back but by the time they returned, Mariah and Adam were gone — just two more casualties in the wake of a mad man.
Stephen Apparated outside the wizard portion of the cemetery in Manchester. The final resting place of the Wizarding community was located in the middle of the famous Muggle cemetery in that area, but it was hidden from view by enchantments so that only magical people could find it. There was good reason for this. As with anything else, even in death witches and wizards couldn’t refrain from showing off. Those with money and the inclination usually spared no expense to make their last resting place something to be proud of or gawked at, depending on one’s point of view. Gravesites always had some sort of charms or enchantments placed on them, but several were definitely more elaborate than others.
Looking around for Muggles and finding none, Stephen passed through the large stone doors of the mausoleum which served as the entrance to the Wizard graveyard in much the same way as the platform at King’s Cross station. Outside the sky had been grey and ominous looking, but inside the sun shone brightly. It was a perfect summer day. The grass underfoot was neat and tidy, a spectacular shade of green, and there was just the hint of a breeze in the air. The space had been magically expended, and Stephen found himself slightly disoriented. It seemed much bigger now than it had over fifteen years ago. More rows of gravesites now dotted the perfectly landscaped area and he found himself at a loss for where to start. He hadn’t counted on not remembering where his own wife and son were buried. Somehow in his mind he had always pictured himself walking right up to their headstones, kneeling down, and… well, he had never actually gotten further than that. He wasn’t sure what would come next.
“Need some help, laddy?” a voice said from behind, making him jump. The older man laughed as Stephen whipped around, wand in hand. “You’ll want to put that away,” the man said conversationally. “One curse inside these walls and you’ll wish you were dead. This graveyard is protected by anti-curse and anti-hex enchantments. Even the dead have enemies, you understand, and us living people don’t take kindly to being cursed either. Graveyards are no place to settle our differences, wouldn’t you agree?”
Stephen relaxed and put his wand away. “Sorry,” he mumbled. “Old habit.”
“Quite all right,” the man replied easily. He had a relaxed demeanour that made Stephen like him instantly. “These days we can’t be too careful,” he added grimly.
“Right,” Stephen replied, letting his eyes roam again, searching for the thing he had come to see.
“My name’s Willard… Samuel Willard,” the old man said in a congenial tone. “I’m the caretaker here. Is there something I can help you with, sir?”
“No,” Stephen answered automatically then paused. He knew that name. Samuel Willard was the person he sent the money to periodically to pay for the upkeep of Mariah and Adam’s graves.
“..Yes,” he amended, sighing in frustration. He waved his hand in a broad sweeping motion indicating his surroundings. “It’s changed so much... I’m looking for my wife and son’s plot, Mariah and Adam Hunter.”
“Ah, yes… I thought I recognized you Mr. Hunter,” Mr. Willard said, his voice still pleasant, helping to calm Stephen’s frayed nerves. “I wondered when you’d turn up.”
“Indeed,” he commented dryly.
Willard smiled benignly. “One does not usually see such care being taken to ensure that a final resting place is maintained properly without one day meeting the person responsible,” he explained. “I have received all of your letters with the instructions and payment, Mr. Hunter, and have renewed the enchantments periodically, just as you have requested. Of course, Albus Dumbledore has also added a bit of his own from time to time when he visits. I hope that you don’t mind, but it is his right as a blood relative.”
“Dumbledore comes here?” Stephen asked, surprised. He wasn’t sure why that shocked him; the Headmaster had implied that he had been here to visit when he had encouraged Stephen to come back in September.
“Oh, yes,” Mr. Willard answered. “There are many people that Albus comes to see. One does not live to be as old as Dumbledore without outliving most of his closest friends and family. He visits his great-granddaughter and great-great-grandson at least once a year, if not more. Shall I take you to them?”
Stephen nodded his head silently, stepping aside for the older man and then following him, trying to calm his nerves.
Mr. Willard took several twists and turns — past the crypt with the dancing cherubs and singing mermaids screeching an ear-shattering tune; around the large gravestone with the flapping wings; and over the marker with the cement bridge — to a quiet area with a beautiful sprawling tree with a simple wooden and rope swing hanging from one of its branches. Here the wind seemed to rustle and there was a nice breeze blowing the leaves a bit, making the place seem alive and full of life. Two headstones lay beneath the tree and around them were beautiful coloured flowers — red tulips, purple irises, yellow daffodils, and wildflowers of every colour. It looked just like their back garden in the height of summer.
“Is it to your liking?” Mr. Willard asked with a sideways look.
“It is very beautiful,” Stephen commented around a lump that had formed in his throat.
“It is one of the more beautiful spots in the mausoleum, I think,” Mr. Willard agreed. “I rather enjoy coming here — it is extremely peaceful and serene, is it not? But of course, that is due, in part, to the charms placed on the area.”
“I wanted them to be in a familiar place,” Stephen whispered, “where nothing bad could touch them. They’d been through enough already.”
“Aye,” Willard agreed. “That they have. Such a shame when they die young… such wasted potential.” He sighed audibly. “I’ll give you some time with them, then.”
“Thank you,” Stephen murmured quietly, and he meant it. This man had watched over his family for him when he could not, and he had done an excellent job of it, too, from the looks of it. Stephen was grateful there were people like Samuel Willard in this world.
He sat down gingerly on the replica of the wooden swing he had put up for Mariah. She had once confessed that the thing she missed most about her childhood home was the tree in the back garden where her father had made a swing similar to this one. Mariah’s father had been Muggleborn so he had created it the old fashioned way — using his own two hands. Mariah used to say that he always felt that using magic was almost like cheating when it came to things like that; some tasks were meant to be a labour of love.
Mariah’s parents had been killed by some of the first Death Eaters and she had been raised by her Godparents from the age of seven.
To protect her identity and maintain her safety Albus had changed her name and kept his distance until she was old enough to attend Hogwarts. As a young child she had always been quite fond of her Granddad, as he was of her, so it was like losing her entire family all in one go. She hadn’t quite understood his reasons for staying away and had been quite angry about it at first. After she started Hogwarts they had tried to rekindle their relationship but the damage had already been done. It had never been what it had used to be. They got on well enough and Mariah respected him, even confided in him at times, but they were a great deal alike. Both had an aloof, reserved attitude towards each other that got in the way of them forming any sort of close bond. Stephen always suspected that Dumbledore did it on purpose; he probably wanted to keep distancing himself for Mariah’s safety. Mariah was too stubborn and independent to admit that it bothered her, but Stephen always suspected that it did. Albus was her closest living blood relative, the greatest wizard alive, and he kept her at arms length. Yes… it bothered her all right. Quite a lot, actually.
He looked to the right of him at the simple headstone that bore her name and the date of her birth and death, swallowing hard.
“I’m here, finally,” he murmured, feeling slightly silly to be talking to a headstone. “Your Granddad said it would help to come, so I decided to listen to him this once.” He paused, taking a deep breath. “I miss you, Mariah. Merlin, how I miss you!” He chuckled humourlessly. “There are days I swear I can feel you there beside me, but most of the time it’s like I’m walking in an empty void. It took me a long time to get my life back on track but in the last few years I’ve managed to find a purpose for living.” He scratched his chin thoughtfully, lost in the past. “I met someone. No, not another woman… it’s a kid. James Potter’s kid. You remember him, right? He’s close to Adam’s age, about a year younger.”
Stephen paused, gathering his thoughts.
“Harry reminds me a lot of myself, actually. I think you would have really liked him. He’s had a rough life since his parents died and Albus brought him to me to help straighten him out.” He laughed in earnest this time. “I know, I know… I can hear you now, even from all the way on the other side. I realise I needed straightening out myself after everything that happened, but the funny thing is that I think Harry helped me almost as much as I helped him. We needed each other, he and I, and we have a common destiny.”
He stepped off the swing and knelt down in front of Mariah’s grave. “I swear to you, my love… I will have my revenge on the one who did this to you and our son. The first chance I get I’m going to make him pay for everything he’s done… all the lives he’s ruined. I’ve learned that the universe has an odd way of balancing itself out. One day that monster is going to get what’s coming to him. I swear it.”
“Revenge is a bit extreme, don’t you think, dear?” a hauntingly familiar voice said from nearby. “As an Auror, wouldn’t you rather see justice done?”
Stephen turned to the voice, his heart breaking. He knew this was coming — they had planned it — but it still came as a shock. The image of his wife wearing a soft, white dress was now sitting on the swing he had vacated, her long brown hair hanging loosely in curls. She was only an image, a shadow of the real thing, but it was the closest he had come to her in over sixteen years and she was just as beautiful as the day he had married her.
“Justice is too kind,” Stephen answered his dead wife in an equally dead voice.
She tilted her head and gave him a shrewd look, so typically Mariah that his stomach twisted in a hard knot. He longed to take her in his arms, to hold her and kiss her one last time, but this was not his wife… only the essence of her, much like the personality left in a painting. Mariah had insisted on this particular charm soon after they had Adam because she did not want him to grow up with no memory of his parents. She had lost her own at a young age and she had always longed for a place like this to come where she could feel close to them and talk to them. Times being what they were, they had made provisions to ensure that Adam would know them in case the worst happened. Stephen had been in no condition to change the plans at the time of her death and, truthfully, a part of him was comforted by the knowledge that he could come here one day when he was ready and talk to her once again.
“You are a just man Stephen Hunter, not a revengeful one,” she said reproachfully in response to his bitter comment. “The man I love is intelligent enough to see the difference.”
“I never could win a row with you, love,” he said shaking his head in defeat. “You always knew just what to say to destroy my counterargument.”
“Why do you think I married you?” she laughed merrily causing him to chuckle unexpectedly. In time his face sobered once again and she became serious as well.
“Why are you looking for something you can never attain, Stephen?” she asked. “Revenge is only for the living. I agree that the people who did this need to be stopped. But, once you open the door to hatred, it is a passageway to losing your own soul. Grieve for me, seek justice for my death, but do not go looking for revenge. I do not wish for my death to destroy you.”
“That is exactly why I stayed away for so long,” he admitted. “I knew that’s what you would say, and I wasn’t ready to hear it.”
“Well,” she huffed in that childish way of hers that drove him mad with want, “that is a bit dim of you, isn’t it?”
“One minute you tell me I’m intelligent, the next you say I’m dim,” he muttered under his breath. “…I see we got the charms right.”
“Come again, love?” she said playfully. “I didn’t quite hear what you said.”
“I asked you how exactly I’m being dim,” he lied sweetly.
“That’s what I thought,” she said, narrowing her eyes. “All I meant was that, if you knew what I would say anyway, why would coming here make any difference?”
He sighed heavily. “Because then I’d have to accept that you were really gone.”
“There it is,” she chuckled. “Now we get a bit closer to the truth. Stephen, darling, I want you to understand something. Life is all about change, and adapting to that change. After I lost my parents I had to learn to live on without them. Thankfully I had two wonderful people in my life to help me through it. But you’re an adult, Stephen. You have to act like one now. I can’t stand the thought of you blaming yourself because I died and you didn’t. You have to be strong and go on without me, love. I know it won’t be easy, but that truly is what I want.”
“You don’t understand,” he said sullenly. “I have gone on, but the pain is still there. It’s as if it happened yesterday instead of sixteen years ago… it never leaves me. When you died, it felt as if half of me died with you.” The tears were leaking down his face now and he brushed them away angrily, sitting back in the grass to stare at her image with a heavy heart.
“I do understand, Stephen,” she said sympathetically. Although Stephen knew that the image couldn’t really feel true emotions he could see the conflict on her face. Mariah must have thought about this scenario before she had died to conjure up an image that was so life-like, so realistic. Without a doubt, she had known him better than anyone on the planet. “If you had died and I was left,” the image continued, “I imagine that I might feel the same way. I mourn for what you have gone through, darling.” Then her face hardened. “But that’s no excuse, Stephen Hunter. You are too strong for this nonsense. I will not have you wasting your life away on my account, seeking revenge at the cost of your soul. I need to know that you are all right — that you can live on and not feel guilty about it so that one day we might be together again. All I want is your happiness, darling. Promise me that you’ll try.”
“I am trying,” he said, hanging his head. “Everyday I force myself to wake up and face a new day without you and our son in it. But I promise that I’ll try harder, love, for you. I think it’s helped to come here… to see you, finally, after all these years. Albus was right.”
She smiled. “I’m glad that you are taking Granddad’s advice for a change. I know that the two of you have had your differences in the past…”
“Only where you were concerned,” Stephen amended hastily.
“Yes…” she agreed, “especially where I was concerned. But Granddad is a good man. He always respected your integrity, Stephen. He’s told me on many occasions that he thinks very highly of you.”
“I always thought Albus was overprotective of you,” Stephen mused thoughtfully. “Then, when something did happen, I spent years blaming him for allowing it to happen.” He closed his eyes and sighed heavily. “I’m an idiot and the world’s biggest git, Mariah. You would have been so ashamed of my behaviour since you left me. I’ve said and done horrible things, and the worst offences have been towards Albus.”
“Granddad is not perfect either, Stephen,” Mariah said comfortingly. “He’s made his share of mistakes. But he is a very forgiving man who only wants to see the best in people. Whatever it is you’ve done, I’m sure he’s already forgiven you.”
“You’re right, of course,” he said, standing up and brushing the grass from his trousers. “I suppose I’d better get back to Hogwarts and do some grovelling. I have essays to mark and responsibilities to attend to.”
“You will come back, won’t you?” she asked him, almost sounding hopeful.
“Yes,” he promised. “I will come back as soon as I can. There’s a war going on right now, and I seem to be in the thick of it as usual. But as soon as I get some things sorted out I will come back. That is, unless I am dead, and then I suppose I’ll be seeing you for real, love,” he said offhandedly.
“Don’t joke about things like that,” she told him with a frown.
“Yes, dear,” he smiled.
He was on the edge of the plot now, inches away from ending the projection, but something was holding him back. He looked at the reflection of his wife and then down at his left hand where his wedding band still graced his finger.
“You know that I’ll always love you,” he said, meeting her eyes.
“I know,” she answered sadly. “It’s alright, Stephen. I want you to let go. We’ll be waiting for you on the other side when it is your time. Until then, don’t forget to live and find happiness where you can.”
He nodded and turned to leave, fresh tears filling his eyes. By the time he made it back to the entrance he had composed himself so that his face was an unreadable mask. Mr. Willard was waiting for him at the door, a battered book propped on his lap as he sat in an ancient easy chair and the wireless playing an old classic tune Stephen remembered his own parents listening to on lazy Sunday afternoons.
“Did you have a nice visit?” the old man asked.
Stephen nodded. “I never realised how much it would help.” He reached out his right hand to shake Mr. Willard’s in parting. “I want to thank you for the excellent job you’ve done here, sir,” he told the caretaker. “I am very grateful that Mariah insisted on the Living Consciousness Charm. It really helped, I think.”
The old man looked at him curiously. “I’m glad you found what you were looking for, my boy, but I’m afraid that there is no Living Consciousness Charm on your wife’s grave. It was in the process of being completed when she died, but we never activated it. You see, the charm was meant for your son and, since your son was also killed, there was never a need to put the charm into place.”
“Then how…?”
The old man’s clear blue eyes cut into his own. “The afterlife has a funny way of making its will known. Usually all it takes is for us to stop running away long enough to listen.”
Stephen looked down at his ring finger again sadly. “Perhaps… perhaps you’re right,” he agreed before turning to leave.
***
The house looked much the same as it had sixteen years ago when he had last laid eyes on it except that it had fallen into mild disrepair. At the time, Stephen couldn’t bear to part with the small country cottage, so he had refused to liquidate its contents and sell off the property. It was the last place he had been truly happy, and he couldn’t stand the thought of letting it go. Unfortunately, he also could never fathom a time when he would ever want to go there again. So he had just walked away. Someone — Albus perhaps — had placed charms on the area to keep it hidden from prying Muggles and thieves so everything was almost as he had left it. He also suspected that his grandfather-in-law had also assigned a House Elf to periodically clean or make minor repairs on the place. Although it had the distinct look of a home that had been unlived in for quite some time, it also didn’t look like a house that had not been occupied for over sixteen years. Garden gnomes had made themselves quite at home around the house from the looks of it, but Stephen knew it could have been much worse.
He made his way slowly up the walk, trying to shake off the odd sense of déjà vu that suddenly accosted his senses. The last time he had come this way he had been half delirious from his capture, practically carried along by James Potter and Sirius Black. The moment they had side-along Apparated him to the front walk they all knew something wasn’t right. Even now, Stephen found it comforting to keep his wand drawn and at the ready, just in case he might need it. Stepping onto the porch, he could feel the slight vibration of the Anti-Apparition wards envelope him; the wards had been in place ever since Stephen and Mariah took possession of the house, but they hadn’t helped her that night. The Death Eaters knocked the door down and stormed the house. His wife and son never had a chance. By the time they arrived back home the job had been done, the Dark Mark was visible, and his wife and son were lying lifeless on the floor.
He swallowed hard as he performed the spell to open the door, stepping over the threshold gingerly just in case the charms Albus had put on the house didn’t recognize him. Luckily they did — or at least nothing happened. Someone had fixed the blasted-in door and righted the overturned furniture, but everything else was essentially the same. The davenport Mariah had wanted to replace as soon as Adam was through his toddler stage sat adjacent to the large fireplace. The dining room table and chairs set that he had inherited from his parents was still in the small dining area along with the matching buffet and server laden with dishes collected over the years. Mariah had a weakness for fancy dishes. On weekends she loved to scour Muggle antique shops for pieces to add to her collection. Stephen used to tease her unmercifully about it because they rarely actually used any of her finds; they were both too busy with their careers to entertain much. His wife always claimed that one day her hobby would pay dividends when their son brought home girlfriends from Hogwarts or when, god forbid, he decided to marry. He always laughed outright at that since Adam was barely even walking. He never had Mariah’s ability to think so far into the future.
Avoiding the bedrooms for now, he passed through the small kitchen and out the back door into the back garden. This was what he had come to do anyway. The garden gnomes were even worse out here, forcing him to fling a few in his path out into the far field. It almost felt good to hear their surprised cries as they flew through the air and then the thud as they landed, dizzy but unharmed. There are always been something therapeutic about de-gnoming the garden, although it never stopped him complaining about it. Spotting what he had come for, he headed straight to the tree — Mariah’s tree with the old, dilapidated rope swing hanging precariously from one intact rope. The cool spring air swept over the garden, a sharp contrast to the warm summer breeze in the wizard mausoleum. He shivered slightly, but didn’t alter his path as he strode purposefully to the old tree and sank down to his knees.
Mariah had asked him to let her go and he had intended to, but now that he was here he wasn’t sure how he could do it. He had carried the grief with him now for so long that it had become part of him, fused with his very soul. He looked down at his wedding band, the symbol of their love that he had been carrying around for almost two decades now and a tear slipped down his cheek. Wrenching the thin gold band off his finger wasn’t easy after all these years but somehow he managed it, although the tears of pain and frustration were flowing freely by the time he had it off. Brandishing his wand in front of him at the base of the sturdy oak, he muttered a spell and immediately a small hole about six inches deep formed in the dirt between two large protruding roots. With one last, choking breath, he dropped the gold band into the hole and then muttered the spell to close it up again, the ground looking completely untouched when he was through.
For a long time Stephen sat and stared at the base of the tree, not having the strength to move. All of his energy had drained out of him with that last spell and he didn’t know what to do. He barely had the strength to move, let alone Apparate back to the gates of Hogwarts. Blindly, he stood and made his way back to the house. Somehow he found his way to their old bedroom. Lying crosswise on the bed, he pulled the slightly dusty duvet over his tired body and cried himself to sleep.
***
An insistent tapping noise at the window woke him from his dreamless sleep. Opening his eyes, he shut them again quickly, groaned and then let out a long sigh. He hadn’t meant to stay here all night. When he lay down all he really wanted was a quick kip before he mustered up the strength to get back to school.
The tapping continued, and he opened one bleary eye to investigate. Zeus was at the window, and from the looks of it he was not happy.
“Coming,” Stephen groaned in a sleepy voice, checking his watch as he stumbled out of the bed. It appeared to be close to six in the morning. He opened the window, which seemed to stick a bit as he tugged it open. The Snowy Owl hopped inside and gave him a half mournful half reproachful look.
“Don’t start,” he old the owl sternly. “I was bloody tired.”
Zeus cocked his regal head as if to say he didn’t buy that excuse.
“What would you have me do?” Stephen sighed, knowing it was useless to argue with a bird. “Splinch myself?”
Zeus clicked his beak roughly as if to say, ‘Of course not, you idiot.’
“Well then, I-”
Just then voices from outside drifted in the bedroom through the open window.
“…magical tracer said that it came from the back,” a man’s voice drifted in from the open window.
“I still don’t understand why it’s so important to the Dark Lord that we have to check it out now,” his companion, a younger man, whined. “I’ve been up all night and I’m dead on my feet.”
“Keep your voice down,” the older man admonished sharply. “The person could still be here. And how many times do I have to tell you Antonio… never question the Dark Lord’s motives or directives if you value your life.”
By this time Stephen had moved to the open window and was watching, hidden by the long, dusty drapes. For a split second he was sure he was about the give away his position; he had to fight back a sneeze brought on by all the dust, but his Auror instincts kicked in just in time to prevent him from making such a huge blunder.
“Pfft,” the younger one scoffed with a dismissive wave of his hand. “I know, I know… Do I look stupid?” he said as if he had heard it a hundred times a day. “Not like I’d say anything to his face, anyway. Well, whoever was here is long gone by now,” he said with authority.
The older one stopped and fixed him with a highly annoyed glare. “What makes you think that?”
Antonio looked around at the empty garden as if it was obvious. “Do you see anyone?”
“We haven’t checked the house yet.”
Stephen stiffened. He couldn’t Apparate inside the house with the wards in place and if he used a spell to hide himself their magical tracers would pick it up instantly. He only options were to hide like a coward the Muggle way and hope to avoid being seen or fight his way out and risk bringing more Death Eaters to the scene. Not much of a choice.
“It’s obviously been abandoned,” Antonio said.
“Then what’s that window doing open?” his companion shot back smugly.
“Window? What window?”
“That one over there in the corner near the back of the house.”
Damn, Stephen thought. I’d hoped they wouldn’t spot that. He hadn’t wanted to risk closing the window for fear that he would be caught. He began looking around frantically for a place to hide but nothing was popping out at him at the moment.
“Good point,” Antonio said reluctantly. “I’ll take the front of the house, you take the back.”
“Me?” the older man said. “How about you take the back, since you’re the junior here. I’m supposed to be training you, remember? I give the orders around here.”
“Exactly,” Antonio said with satisfaction. “So show me how it’s done, then, Al. I wouldn’t want to get it wrong.”
“Why you cheeky-” he said, too angry to finish his thought. “And the name’s Albert, not Al.”
“Right.” Stephen heard the sounds of scuffling and the door opening. “Someone’s definitely been here recently,” the younger man said in a muffled voice. Stephen could tell that they were inside the house now because it was harder to hear them through the walls that separated the front of the house and the bedroom. He went to the door and opened it a crack so that he could hear better, his wand at the ready just in case he had to return fire quickly. “I can see the footprints on the floor from the dust.”
“Looks like a man, and he was alone,” Albert said, bending down to examine them closely.
“Maybe it’s not him,” Antonio said hopefully.
“It’s him, alright,” Albert said with a shake of his head. He stood up quickly and fired a spell that dissipated in the air.
“What was that for?”
“A signal to the Dark Lord that we found something,” Antonio explained. “Better straighten up, kid. We’re about to get company.”
Stephen groaned inwardly. This was not good. But another part of his brain was thinking that maybe they could use this situation to their advantage. If he could inform the Order in time, maybe they could strike a blow to Voldemort’s forces… surprise them. They wouldn’t be expecting reinforcements other than their own to show up. If he could buy them some time, it just might work.
Hoping that there were still parchment and quills in the bedroom, he rummaged around until he found them.
“Did you hear that?” Albert’s voice said from the hallway.
Knowing that he was caught, Stephen pointed his wand at the door and silently said a spell that closed and sealed it. He then waved his hand over the entrance and reinforced the spell with a special something he had learned on his travels — a spell that would take hours to decipher and break through. He’d do the same to the rest of the room as soon as he sent Zeus back to Hogwarts with the note.
Finding what he was looking for, he uncapped the ink and muttered a spell to hydrate it again, then dipped his quill in the bottle and quickly wrote a note.
“Take this to Hogwarts and try not to be seen,” he told Zeus. “Bring back help. Hurry.”
The bird took the note in his beak and flew out the open window which Stephen quickly shut, locked, and then spelled. Moving about the room, he performed every spell that he could think of to seal himself in, ignoring the rumbling in his stomach. How long had it been since he’d last eaten? Once done he settled himself on his bed to wait, and only then did he think of what a blunder he had just made.
What if Zeus went to Harry? Why didn’t he tell Zeus to go straight to Dumbledore? Stephen swore violently. What had he been thinking? And, more importantly, what would he do if Harry showed up and Voldemort managed to capture him again? Stupid, stupid, stupid, he said as he hit his forehead repeatedly with the palm of his hand.
***
As an owl, Harry followed Zeus to a Muggle town hundreds of miles away. To keep his mind off Ginny and Stephen he considered the owl’s ability to get from one place to another quickly, even over long distances. He knew that ordinary birds would never have been able to fly that far in a matter of a few hours, but with Zeus’ guidance they managed to do just that. He didn’t notice anything especially magical about the journey other than the wind whipping his feathers, pillowing under his wings, but it felt magical so he knew it must be magical, somehow.
They swooped down to a tree with a low-hanging branch just outside the window of an ordinary looking home. Harry shifted his weight from side to side, trying to get a look inside. The house was just a run of the mill house — nothing special. It was rather small and could have been rather homey if it hadn’t been neglected. From the looks of it, the cottage hadn’t been lived in for quite some time.
Harry was considering transforming back into his human form when he heard voices.
“…don’t know what spells he’s using but nothing works. We called Riordan to come take a look. He’s the best Curse-Breaker in the business and he’s loyal to the Dark Lord. If Riordan can’t break through, then no one can.”
“The Dark Lord wants frequent updates on your progress,” a second voice answered. “He can’t afford to take the time to come personally until you have something more definite, but if it is Hunter in that room, then he wants him alive.” Both voices were male and sounded familiar to Harry, but he couldn’t place them. “And if Potter shows up,” the man continued, “you know what to do.”
Harry’s resolve hardened when he heard that comment; he hadn’t come looking for a fight — just to get Stephen out of whatever jam he’d gotten into and get back to Hogwarts as quickly as possible — but the sound of his own name coming from this unknown Death Eater’s lips made him want to burst through the door throwing all sorts of hexes he’d learned over the past year. His time under Voldemort’s control was fuzzy, but he’d found that one thing he had no trouble recalling was the curses and hexes his body had performed. It was like an instinctual memory, unconscious but there when he needed it. Now that he had his full power back, he hadn’t had a chance to really put his skills to the test. This seemed like the perfect opportunity. Stephen would murder him if he got caught or injured, but that was a chance he’d have to take. The sooner they both got back to Hogwarts and Ginny, the better.
Taking a page out of Rita Skeeter’s book, the first thing he did was change into a beetle so that he could get a closer look inside the house without being noticed. An owl peeping through the window was too obvious, but a common insect was easily overlooked. He had never transformed into something that small before but, once he got used to the change in perspective of being so tiny in such a large world, he found that it wasn’t terrible. So long as he stayed away from spider webs and people or animals that could harm him, he should be safe enough he supposed.
He soon learned that there were roughly seven Death Eaters in and around the house and, after careful searching, he located Stephen holed up in a bedroom near the back of the house. He could see Stephen pacing around the room through the window, and he was beginning to look twitchy. Harry wondered how close the Death Eaters were to breaking through whatever warns Stephen had placed on the room. He could feel the magic under his tiny bug body. He’d bet anything that the Death Eaters had already tried unsuccessfully to break the glass. There was an exceptionally strong Unbreakable charm on it.
What he needed was a distraction. An earthquake should do the trick, he thought with a grin. That’d definitely shake them up and get them running around, then he could pick them off one by one. Flying to a nearby tree, he waited until he was under cover of the thick foliage and sitting on a thick, sturdy branch before he transformed back into his human form. He needed to be human to perform the spell because it required his full focus. He had just started doing elemental magic last summer when preparing for the Ballgame and, since his capture, he hadn’t done anything with it to his knowledge. Still, he knew the basics of what it took to produce a small earthquake, so it shouldn’t be that difficult. What was it that Macoa told him once…? He had to know that he could do it. Limitations and self-doubt were the things that held him back.
Holding his hands out in front of him palms down, he focused his magic through his arms, out his hands, and down into the earth, willing it to do his bidding. The earth responded with such enthusiasm that it nearly knocked Harry out of the tree. The tremors and noise rumbled underneath him, centring on the house where he had been pointing his hands. He could hear cracking and pops from the timbre breaking, and the telltale sounds of glass shattering both inside and around the house. Harry cursed as the thought occurred to him that he might actually bring the structure down on top of Stephen and the Death Eaters inside.
Flexing his fingers in a fist and gaining control of his magic, the rumbling stopped as abruptly as it had begun. Then the shouting started as several of the Death Eaters began to panic.
“What the bloody hell was that?” Harry heard one swear.
“This part of England hasn’t seen an earthquake in centuries,” another exclaimed. “What if it’s Dark magic?”
“All’s the better, then,” the man who seemed to be the leader said in a hard voice. “Get hold of yourselves lads. Phillips… take Hasting with you and check the grounds. Make sure there’s nothing amiss, and then report back to me. Johnston… check the back room. With any luck that quake knocked a few of Hunter’s wards down, or at the very least weakened them. I want that room open within the hour! The Dark Lord will be checking in soon and I want good news for him, understood?”
The Death Eaters disappeared amid a chorus of ‘yes sirs’ and Harry observed the two who must be Phillips and Hasting start to check the grounds, their wand lit to cast light against the newly darkened sky. He let one walk by him and then dropped to the ground behind the other one, casting two stunners simultaneously with each hand, knocking the Death Eaters out cold.
Two down, six to go.
He dragged the two men behind a faraway tree and disillusioned them so that they were hidden from view. As an extra precaution he also confiscated their wands then bound their mouths, hands, and feet just in case they woke up. Then he waited.
It wasn’t long before Harry heard the screen door bang and two more Death Eaters came outside grumbling.
“I’d wager Phillips is having a fag,” one said with a frown. “Ruddy awful things, if you ask me. I swear, at times he’s no better that a filthy Muggle.”
“What if something happened,” the other one worried. “Maybe they got eaten by a wild animal.”
The other one hooted in laughter. “Wild animals in Manchester? I know this is the countryside lad, but I don’t think Phillips and Hasting have been attacked by lions or tigers, do you?” He laughed again as he rounded the side of the house. “Wild animals, indeed!”
Unfortunately for him Harry had heard the entire conversation and had gotten a brilliant idea from listening to them. Concentrating on becoming a lion, he transformed into the regal animal seconds before they turned the corner. Both men let out a startled cry as Harry opened his jaws wide and roared as loudly as he could. One fainted dead away while the other one took off screaming as Harry chased him.
When they were far enough away from the house, Harry transformed and hit him with Petrificus Totalis in the back. He dropped to the ground like a stone. Harry levitated him behind a large bush and, just like the other two, confiscated his wand then bound him with the Incarcerous spell so that if he managed to break the petrification spell he’d still have to find a way out of the bindings. Once he had him situated he also placed the disillusionment spell on him for good measure.
Voices drew his attention to the house where three more Death Eaters had revived the one who had fainted.
“What happened?” Harry heard a female voice shriek. He tuned into the conversation with the help of his enhanced hearing.
“L-lion,” the Death Eater stuttered incoherently. “Right t-there,” he said, pointing to the spot where Harry had been waiting for them.
“He must have hit his head when he fell,” another Death Eater commented, disgust and doubt edging his voice.
“You fools!” she screeched. “It’s most likely a trick of the Order of the Phoenix and Dumbledore. Keep your wand at the ready and spread out,” she commanded them harshly. “You two…” she pointed to the nearest Death Eaters including the one who had fainted, “find Rolland, Hasting, and Phillips.” When they hesitated for a split second she shouted, “What are you waiting for? Go!” They both ran off in different directions.
“Jones,” the unknown female Death Eater barked to the man who was left, “go back inside and tell Demeter that three of our people have disappeared. Have Johnston stand guard in front of the bedroom door just in case someone tries to infiltrate the house. And tell Demeter that he may need to call in reinforcements, and inform the Dark Lord. Potter may have something to do with this.”
The more she talked the more Harry was certain that he had heard her voice before, many months ago in that cave. She had been talking to Bellatrix and Snape as she taunted him from underneath her mask. It also registered what she was saying about calling in more Death Eaters. That was the last thing he needed.
Harry cast a disillusionment spell on himself wordlessly, feeling the unmistakable sensation of the spell taking effect as it washed over him. Carefully he made his way through the darkness till he was within a short distance of the house, then he dropped to the ground and changed into a snake and slithered the rest of the way until he was under the house. Hoping to find a way inside, he was rewarded with a beam of light coming through a small hole in the floorboards. It looked as if it might have been created by a rat or mouse, but it was big enough for him to stick his head up and take a peek around.
His ears picked up on muffled conversation but his eyes refused to work properly. Harry had forgotten that snakes had very limited vision. Frustrated with his even poorer than usual eyesight, Harry focused his senses on his surroundings and managed to identify the magical auras of two human forms in the room — one decidedly stronger than the other. He could just barely pick up a third form down a hallway standing in front of a mass of magical energy that he assumed was the bedroom Hunter had barricaded himself inside.
Harry listened carefully to the man, Jones, give his report to the person he assumed was Demeter.
“Alexandra is handling it?” Demeter asked.
“They’re out looking for the other three now,” Jones replied. “She said to tell you that you may need to call in reinforcements and inform the Dark Lord. It’s possible that Potter has something to do with this.”
“Potter is a child,” Demeter scoffed. “I have no worries about him.”
“But the Dark Lord-”
“…Is not controlling him anymore,” Demeter finished. “Without my Lord’s power behind him, Potter is nothing.”
“But it is rumoured that the boy is even more powerful than the Dark Lord himself,” Jones whispered worriedly. “…That he can control the elements and take any form-”
“Silence!” Demeter shouted, grabbing Jones’ collar. “Do not speak such heresy in my presence. I will not tolerate such lies! One more word of that nature and I will have the pleasure of killing you myself.”
“S-sorry,” Jones stammered. “I didn’t mean…”
“Never mind!” Demeter bellowed irritably as he released the younger man with a small shove. “Go tell Alexandra that I am not calling in reinforcements until I know what happened to Phillips, Hasting, and Rolland. I’m giving her until half past to find them and determine who or what caused that earthquake. After that, I will decide what to do and who needs to be contacted.”
Deciding he’d heard enough, Harry made his way back under the house and crawled in the general direction of Stephen’s room. Judging from the magic he had seen, Harry knew that it was a Mixtec spell Stephen was using to block the door and window. Stephen had been teaching him some of the more advanced spell work of the island people in their sessions the past few weeks and in the months before his capture. Harry wasn’t sure what specific combination of spells Stephen was using, but he had a general idea how he could get into the room. Basically, the spells were cross-woven together for strength. By using his sensing abilities, hopefully he could detect a hole or gap between the wards large enough for a shape-shifter to get through. Even if his current form wouldn’t fit, he could always transform back into the beetle or even a smaller insect if he needed.
It turned out that he didn’t have to find a gap in the spells after all. Stephen had obviously not thought that he needed to ward the floor, so once Harry found the right room he transformed into an ant and climbed up through a crack in the floorboards.
In a flash, Harry transformed back into human form, realising his mistake too late. The resounding crack of a spell being cast was all the warning he was given as he was blasted against the wall with a painful thud.
*
A/N: Please check out a new website developed by my good friends Muggle Momma and Melindaleo. The site is called ‘Let Harry Live dot com’ and is a direct plea to the powers that be to not kill our hero. There’s even a petition to sign! So, come on over, look over the site, and support the cause.
Thanks to all of you who are reviewing. I haven’t answered them because doing so takes time away from the writing, but I have read every one and they are all wonderful. Thank you so much!
Chapter 30: Rescue
Author's Notes: (See below)
“Rescue”
“Bloody hell! What was that for?” Harry groaned, trying to shake off the stars dancing before his eyes as he stumbled to his feet ungracefully.
“Harry?” Stephen lowered his wand.
“Who else do you know who can transform into a sodding ant?” Harry moved his shoulder in circles gingerly. “Next time you might want to try warning a bloke before blasting them against the bleeding wall, Xolotl,” he said, letting out a string of curses as he hit a tender spot. “…Especially blokes who came all this way to rescue you.”
“I’m not some damsel in distress, Quetzal,” Steven retorted, “so put the hero complex on hold, okay? I was doing just fine on my own, in case you hadn’t noticed.”
Harry looked around doubtfully. “Locked in a room… yeah, that’s doing just great. If you were doing such a fine job, then why send the note?”
“I sent that note to Dumbledore, not you,” Stephen said disapprovingly. “I was hoping to mount a surprise attack against some of Voldemort’s forces. I don’t suppose Dumbledore’s here…?”
Harry felt his face burn with embarrassment. “No, I’m afraid that I’m all you get. Sorry.”
Stephen seemed to be making an effort to visibly reign in his temper, which made Harry feel even more stupid. “Did Dumbledore even see the note, Harry?”
“He probably got a read after I dropped it on the floor,” Harry answered sheepishly, “but by then I’d already taken off with Zeus.”
Stephen groaned and ran a hand through his hair. “I suppose we’ll just have to make do,” he said finally to Harry’s relief. “What’s the situation out there?”
“There are eight Death Eaters that I know of, but I took care of three already, so now we’re down to five.”
“That’s it?” Stephen exclaimed, obviously surprised and perhaps a bit impressed. “I could have taken care of that by myself.”
“Eight on one?” Harry snorted doubtfully, his eyes now dancing with mirth. “I know you’re good, Stephen, but isn’t that a little…”
“Ambitious?”
“I was thinking more along the lines of stupid — especially for a man of your age.”
“Cheeky as always,” Stephen said with a wry grin. “Like to see you say that to Dumbledore sometime. It seems you managed to disable three by yourself and sneak in here,” he pointed out. “They can’t be that bright, can they?”
“Good point,” Harry agreed. “I think the two we have to watch out for are Alexandra and Demeter. They appear to be leading this operation.”
“Alexandra and Demeter De'Leuvieres?” Stephen’s face registered surprise and recognition.
“You know them?”
“Unfortunately. I’d rather hoped they were dead by now.” His voice was cold and hard — it was apparent that he had a bad history with the couple. “Went to school with the pair. Slytherin. And it’s a good thing they ended up with each other because they deserve to be together, if ever a pair did. I understand they disappeared soon after Voldemort but never heard if they were caught. Back in the first war they were on level with the Malfoys and the Lestranges for most despicable couple. We used to hold monthly pools in the Auror department. The winners were determined by the number of times their names came up in the case files that month.”
“Yeah?” Harry said, interested. “Who usually won?”
Stephen flashed him a grin that spoke volumes.
“Let me guess,” Harry said with a grimace. “The De'Leuvieres?”
“The Malfoys rarely got their hands dirty,” Stephen explained. “With them it was all innuendo and speculation. The Lestranges were more the inner circle type, so they rarely got involved in the day to day stuff. The De'Leuvieres, on the other hand, liked to be the biggest bullies on the block and they didn’t mind doing the menial jobs. Nine times out of ten they won the prize, but the Lestranges were never very far behind.”
“I heard someone mention calling in a Curse Breaker by the name of Riordan to try and get through your wards,” Harry told him. “He’s supposed to be the best. Do you know him?”
“I don’t,” Stephen answered, “but that’s not surprising. I’ve been out of country for a long time. Did you hear when this person is supposed to show up?”
“No, but I suppose it could be any time,” Harry said. “I think if we’re to make a break for it, we’d better do it soon.”
Stephen looked around him ruefully. “I loath this,” he sighed. “My house was once a place full of love and life. Now it’s just the opposite.”
Harry wasn’t sure what to say. He could only imagine what it must feel like to lose everything he cared about and then see the last remnants of that life overrun by the very people who had taken it all away. If he were in Stephen’s place he’d be angry, but the older man just looked sad.
Before he could think of something to say, Stephen pulled away. “What do you say we get back to Hogwarts? I’m sure your girlfriend is angry at you for taking off like you did.”
Harry’s face paled and his shoulders drooped at the mention of Ginny’s name — a reaction that was not lost on Stephen.
“What happened?” he asked.
“Ginny was attacked this morning in the Great Hall at breakfast.”
“Attacked?” Stephen repeated. “How bad is it? Is she alright?”
“I don’t know who was behind it for certain,” Harry said quietly, “but I’d put my money on Voldemort. It was some sort of snake statue, probably from the island. It shot a green mist out at her from the mouth.”
Stephen gasped. “The Cochicoatl,” he breathed.
“That’s what Macoa said,” Harry agreed, trying to bottle up the panic that he suddenly felt by recalling this morning’s events. “Ginny had some magical protection surrounding her, at least, thanks to Macoa. We’re not sure how that’s going to affect the outcome but we need to get back to the island as soon as possible.”
“Yes… we do.” Stephen turned away, an odd expression on his face. “I thought Macoa had disappeared,” he said casually — a little too casually in Harry’s opinion.
“She was in hibernation, it seems.” Harry’s eyes narrowed suspiciously when Stephen didn’t answer and refused to look at him. “What aren’t you telling me, Stephen?”
The older man glanced back at him, a regretful, almost shameful, look in his eye. “Remember when I told you that I worked for some unsavoury individuals after I left England?”
Harry nodded.
“One of those individuals was Lucius Malfoy. He was the one who hired me to find the island.”
“Malfoy!” The name left a bitter taste in his mouth. “How could you do that after everything you knew about the man?”
“It was just another job, Harry,” Stephen said defensively. “At the time I didn’t know anything about the Mixtec people, and I certainly didn’t have any loyalties towards them. I took a job from an anonymous employer and only later did I find out it was actually Lucius who had hired me. By then I had already signed a contract, so I handed over some Dark Artefacts to him in exchange for leaving me and the island alone. He got some good archaeological finds — minus the source for the wandless magic that I had originally agreed to find — and I got to walk away.”
“So you put these Dark objects into circulation to be used on innocent people like Ginny, and that’s okay because you got to walk away?” Harry said between clenched teeth.
“I didn’t like it any more than you, Harry,” Stephen said sharply, “but I had no choice. I had to give him something, and I felt at the time that it was more important to protect Tlilli Tlapalla and the Mixtec people from gits like Malfoy. Think what Malfoy might have done with the knowledge that the island existed. No one wanted that, so Tecuhtl and I came up with a way to satisfy him without compromising the safety of the people.”
“But in doing so, you compromised the safety of people here at home,” Harry pointed out angrily. “Isn’t that just as wrong?”
“Life isn’t always black and white, Quetzal,” Stephen said with a regretful frown. “Sometimes the line becomes blurred and we have to settle for grey.”
“And sometimes you have to draw a hard line and do the right thing, even if it isn’t the easiest choice,” Harry shot back.
The conversation was interrupted by the door rattling.
“I’d love to debate this with you more, kid,” Stephen said, “but it seems we’re about to have company. I have a plan. Are you willing to put this aside for now and work together to get out of this?”
“Let’s hear it,” Harry said angrily. He’d work with Stephen on this, but he wasn’t sure how he felt about the knowledge that it had been his friend, mentor, and teacher who had essentially given Voldemort the weapon that hurt Ginny.
The door knob twisted and sounds could be heard from the outside. It was as if someone were trying to knock it in.
“I propose a surprise attack… catch them off guard,” Stephen said calmly, ignoring the commotion. “I’ll transfigure myself into an armchair in the corner over there. You shape shift into something small and unnoticeable. We’ll let them rush into the room and hopefully they’ll be confused to find it empty. At the right moment we’ll turn back into ourselves and stun them.”
“What if there are too many of them to stun?” Harry asked. A loud cracking noise caused them both to jump.
“Then you run for it,” Stephen insisted once the danger was passed. “I want you to get out and go straight back to Hogwarts. Get away from the house and the anti-Apparation wards. You should be able to make it back to the gates of Hogwarts without any problem.”
All the way back to Hogwarts? “But,” Harry spluttered, “that’s hundreds of miles away. I’ve never Apparated that far.”
“You can do it,” Stephen assured him. “It’s no different than the Apparating you did this summer. Just concentrate on where you want to be and will yourself to go there.” He was cut off by another, louder rattle. “If they get me, Harry, do not hesitate — run. I mean it. I can take care of myself. If the worst happens don’t waste time blaming yourself — I’ve made my peace with the universe.”
“Forget it. I’m not leaving you.” Harry’s words were firm even though his heart twisted in a dilemma; he may have been angry at Stephen but he didn’t want him to get hurt. Outside, the sounds were becoming louder and the door bowed with magic; the heavy wood took on the appearance of pliable rubber.
“You’ll do it,” Stephen said harshly, bringing his attention back to their conversation. “If you get yourself captured, who’s going to help Ginny?” he reasoned.
“We have to go back to the island to save her life,” Harry retorted. “As I have no bloody idea how to get there on my own, you’re essential to the plan.”
Stephen took a book off a nearby shelf and pointed his wand at it. “Portus Activius.”
He tossed the book at Harry roughly. “There you go. It’s set to activate with the right words. Call it insurance. Just name off the place where you’re going when you’re ready. Only make sure that you do in within the wards of Hogwarts. That way the Portkey can’t be traced by Voldemort or anyone from the Ministry. Albus controls the wards there and he can see to it that you are not tracked. It’s set to land you on the beach near my home.”
“Why can’t we make another one and use it to get out of here?” Harry asked, staring at the book in his hand. He felt a wave of magic surrounding the room snap and knew that the Death Eaters were close to breaking through the wards.
“I don’t think it would work inside the house,” Stephen explained. “I don’t know what spells Albus added to the security here while the property was in his care. At best, nothing would happen. At worst it would make splinching look mild. Too risky. Now shrink the damn thing and tuck it away in your pocket. We don’t need you to lose it.”
Harry complied with Stephen’s directive and shrunk the book, placing it securely in the pocket of his jeans. “I’m still not running off and leaving you. In case you’ve forgotten, I can take care of myself, too.”
The room seemed to shimmer for an instant, flicker, and then it was extinguished.
“They’re through,” Stephen whispered quickly. “Hide!”
Harry transformed into a small mouse and ran for cover just as Stephen made it to the corner and transfigured himself into a leathery, sandy coloured armchair that did not look at all out of place with the furnishings of the room. He had barely finished the transformation when the door burst open and Demeter De'Leuvieres entered along with three unfamiliar men — Death Eaters who had not been here before. That meant that reinforcements had come. Harry crouched down under the bureau and listened.
“You two,” Demeter snapped. “Search the room. Quickly! And be ready for anything. Hunter is sneaky and I wouldn’t put it past him to hide like a coward.”
“He’s not here, sir,” the youngest of the three said after they had taken a good look around.
“Are you daft?” Demeter growled. His eyes were wild and angry as he brandished his wand around with violent jerks. “Is he not a wizard and an Auror? This is Stephen Hunter we’re talking about — he could be anything. Find him!” he yelled, making two of the three Death Eaters jump and scurry about the room frantically, casting revealing spells all round them.
The fourth Death Eater in the room was standing near the doorway taking in the scene with bemused amusement. Harry suspected that he was the Curse Breaker, Riordan, because the man reminded him a bit of Bill — only older, and not nearly as cool-looking. Still, he was dressed similar to Bill’s normal field attire, boots and all, and seemed to be more of an observer rather than a participant. He didn’t appear the type to take orders from anyone less than the highest authority — perhaps only Voldemort, himself.
Just beyond the threshold Harry could see a fifth person, the one who had been ordered to stand guard. He could also hear the voices of Alexandra and the others in the front of the house, making Harry wonder if they had found the missing Death Eaters and revived them. Regardless, they had just added three more people to their numbers making the odds even less in their favour.
A sharp cry from the Death Eater nearest Stephen brought Harry to full alert and he realized that his mentor had been discovered. Stephen had unexpectedly morphed back into human form and now had the older of the two in an arm lock, his wand pointed at the man’s throat.
“Stay back,” he warned the group, thrusting his wand deeper to show he meant business, “or he’s a dead man.”
Demeter laughed coldly. “Do you think we care about the life of one unimportant man? Do what you like with him. Once he’s out of the way you’ll have no one to hide behind, Hunter.”
Harry move like lightening, scampering across the floor and behind Demeter with his back against the wall. In a flash he had transformed and had his wand pointed at De'Leuvieres’ throat.
“Perhaps you care more for your own life than the life of your man,” he growled in Demeter’s ear.
“Potter,” De'Leuvieres hissed in surprise. “Where did you come from?”
“Never mind that,” Harry said. “Order your men to back down.”
He hesitated before saying, “I don’t think you have the nerve to kill me.”
Harry’s heart thudded in his chest with the blatant challenge, but he tried not to show it. Instead he said in a quiet, cool voice that only Demeter could hear, “I’ve murdered before, or have you forgotten Pettigrew so quickly? I know I haven’t. Perhaps once upon a time I could not perform the Unforgivables, but I remember Voldemort’s lessons well. Shall we test your theory, or go straight to the more painful methods of persuasion?”
He hoped that his voice sounded as sinister as it had when he was under Voldemort’s control because it would be so much easier if De'Leuvieres cooperated. Smiling inwardly, he knew he had hit the mark when he saw beads of sweat building up on the man’s forehead. Obviously Demeter De'Leuvieres had met the Dark Prince on at least one occasion.
“Drop your wands,” he commanded in a loud, angry voice. “Drop them and back away.”
They did as instructed, including Demeter who let his wand drop to the floor in defeat. Stephen pocketed his man’s wand then shoved him forward roughly, reaching out a hand at the same time to summon the fallen wands of the other three. He then pocketed them as well. Harry kept a tight hold on his hostage.
“Tie them up,” he told Stephen who complied by casting a spell that looked very similar to the one Dumbledore had used on the Death Eaters at the Department of Mysteries. Silvery ropes shot out of his wand tip and bound the men together in a small group.
“That’ll hold them,” he said with satisfaction.
“Are you sure?” Riordan said, flashing him a strange little smile. In an instant he had disappeared with a soft ‘pop,’ leaving the others behind yelling angrily.
“Where’d he go?” Harry said looking around wildly.
Stephen looked just as shocked. Annoyed at the angry Death Eaters who didn’t appreciate being left behind by the Curse Breaker, he waved his hand irritably, silencing them. “He couldn’t have Apparated or Portkeyed out of here with all the wards surrounding this place,” he said. “I don’t understand either.”
They could hear more yelling down the hall and the scuttling of feet. The guard outside had alerted the others to the situation. Harry flicked his finger and the door slammed shut once again, sealing it with the same magic Stephen had used. Shoving De'Leuvieres away from him roughly, he pointed his wand at him and silently cast the Incarcerous spell Stephen had done, binding his hands and feet tightly.
“Impressive,” Stephen commented. “Nice to see you do pay attention in our lessons.”
“Thanks,” he said offhandedly. Checking the ceiling, he smiled widely. “Bloody brilliant. The man’s a genius! Too bad he’s not on our side.”
Stephen looked up too. “What? I don’t see anything.”
“Focus on the magic. Don’t you see it?”
Stephen’s eyes seemed to slide out of focus slightly, and then he smiled widely. “He created a tear in the wards. There’s a bloody hole in the ceiling! We can Apparate out of here and back to Hogwarts.” He looked at the spot where Riordan had been and frowned. “That doesn’t explain how he got out of the binding spell. Unless…” He felt in his pocket and pulled out the wands. “Aha,” he said singling out one of them. “Fake wand, courtesy of Weasleys Wizard Wheezes. It’s got the logo on it and everything.”
Harry took the wand and examined it shaking his head, half amused and half disgusted. “I really should have a talk with those two about their products.”
“Right clever of the bloke though, and he did do us a favour…” Stephen inclined his head to the spot on the ceiling where the tear was located, looking at it with interest. “…even if he was only saving his own skin.”
Harry nodded in agreement. “In any case, we’d better get out of here before he decides to alert old Snake Face, himself. I don’t fancy seeing him tonight — not with Ginny’s life on the line.”
“I agree,” Stephen said, “but let me go first. That way if anything happens, it will be me who’ll get their insides rearranged.”
Harry knew it would be pointless to argue so he didn’t waste his time, but there was one thing he was wondering about. “What about them?” he asked, pointing to the group on the floor.
“Nothing for it,” Hunter said, shrugging. “We’ll just have to leave them here. Hopefully their people will figure out how to break through sooner or later. As soon as we get back we’ll alert the Aurors, but I suspect they’ll be long gone by then if they know what’s good for them. I would have liked to have taken the lot of them into custody but…” He looked pointedly at Harry who flushed guiltily.
“I said I was sorry,” he mumbled.
“Just promise me that next time you’ll think before jumping out the window.”
Harry’s mouth fell open. “How did you…?”
Stephen sighed. “I didn’t and I don’t think I want to know, so save it. Let’s get out of here, okay?”
Harry nodded. “See you back at Hogwarts, then.”
Stephen took one last wary look at the broken wards, gave him a small wave, and Disapparated.
Just as Harry was about to do the same, the house shook violently, knocking him to the ground. He ducked out of the way of falling pictures and various other objects, throwing his hands over his head in an effort to protect himself as bits of the ceiling came tumbling down. The Death Eaters tied up on the floor were also doing their best to scramble for cover as a collective group, but they were getting hit much harder as part of the roof above them collapsed. Harry flexed his fingers and sent as much of it away from the helpless group as he could but at least one was hit in the head by a large chunk of wood and slumped over.
In an instant the house stopped shaking but Harry looked around him and realized that nearly all of the wards had been shattered. A second later, the anti-Apparition ward was back in place. He could see the arc of magic up in the sky through the hole in the ceiling. He was stuck; hopefully Stephen had managed to make it through without injuring himself badly.
Then the thing he had been dreading, the thing he knew was coming but hadn’t brought himself to think yet came to pass.
“Potter!” the snake’s distinctive hiss drifted in from outside. “I know you’re in there. There’s nowhere for you to hide, boy. Show yourself to Lord Voldemort!”
Harry nostril’s flared. “Sod off!” he yelled angrily. “I’m done playing it your way. If you want me, Tom, you’ll have to come find me.”
With that, he transformed into a spider and disappeared through the cracks of the floorboards just as a blasting curse destroyed the outside wall. Harry heard shouting above him but he was still trying to adjust to his new form, including his six extra eyes and legs, to bother listening. The footsteps above him reverberated through the tiny space between the floor and ground. Harry scuttled to an area where he could see moonlight drifting in but hesitated just inside the safety of the house. He didn’t want to take the chance of being trampled.
Suddenly, a shadow seemed to pass over the moon and everything went dark. His eyes were just adjusting to the change when fear gripped him and he backed away. The moon hadn’t disappeared at all, he realised. Rather, a large object was blocking the entrance.
Voldemort’s snake, Nagini, poked her massive head into the small space and looked around. Harry had taken a position on the wall and Voldemort’s pet was so close to him that he could have easily reached out with one spindly leg and touched her — although that was the last thing he wanted at the moment. He remembered Macoa just that morning searching for a spider to satisfy her hunger, and it chilled him to the bone to think that he could be Nagini’s supper. He knew that rodents were the snake’s preferred food, but in a pinch they also liked to eat insects, including spiders.
Just then another thought popped into his head. Nagini was Voldemort’s Horcrux — one of the entities that housed the last of his soul. Here was Harry’s opportunity to destroy part of Voldemort, the last remaining obstacle except for the piece inside is own head. The problem was that he was trapped in the helpless form of a small spider.
Harry’s resolve hardened at the sight of the snake, the creature who served his enemy; no matter what happened he decided Nagini would not survive the night. He’d see to it.
Moving quickly, Harry crawled down to the ground, positioned himself in the opening between the snake and the gap in the wall, and transformed back into a mouse for the second time that night. Nagini was still moving forward, searching the crawlspace under the house for food. Carefully, Harry climbed through the gap vacated by the snake’s tail and waited on the other side, hoping that he was quick enough to get away when the time came. So far there was no sign of Voldemort or the Death Eaters.
Nervously, he was just backing away to give him some distance when Nagini’s massive head emerged in the opening. The giant snake spotted him immediately and dove, her jaws opened wide in anticipation of a good meal. Startled, he let out a reflexive squeak and took off running as fast as he could for a cluster of trees nearby that would afford him some protection and privacy to turn back into his human form.
By some miracle he made it to cover. Seconds later, just as Nagini made it inside the cover of trees, Harry turned back into himself. The sudden shift in perspective caught him slightly off guard and he swayed a little on his feet. An angry Nagini reared and struck, forcing him to dodge to the right to avoid the snake’s fangs which almost appeared to drip poison. Rolling out of the way of the serpent, a thought suddenly occurred to Harry. What if Voldemort could see through Nagini’s eyes? He was only a few steps away inside that house… it would only take a minute for the Death Eaters to reach him. The smart thing to do, Harry knew, would be to Apparate now and return to Hogwarts. He was outside the Anti-Apparation wards. Stephen must surely be wondering what happened to him by now.
Another strike had him on his feet and backing up.
“Hold sstill, human,” Nagini hissed angrily. “You cannot escape from me. Just one bite and you’ll be mine.”
“Sorry,” Harry hissed back in Parseltongue. “I don’t fancy having your fangs stuck in my skin. Another time, perhaps.” He swerved to the left away from her but tripped over a tree root and came crashing to the ground again in a daze. Harry’s heart beat rapidly and he prepared for the inevitable… there was no way to avoid what he knew was coming.
She rose up to strike again and that’s when it happened. Nagini’s eyes glowed red. In that instant it was as if he were looking straight into Voldemort’s eyes and seeing his own reflection staring back at him. Nagini froze on the spot as if waiting, and Harry was caught in the hypnotic stare, like a victim of Medusa who had just been turned to stone. He couldn’t move, couldn’t breathe even. In that instant he knew what to do.
Feeling as if he was swimming under deep water, as if time had stopped just for this moment, he reached out his right hand and summoned the sword of Gryffindor he knew would be there. In one clean swift stroke he cut through the air with the familiar blade and chopped the head off the snake, watching with satisfied eyes as the great serpent’s head hovered for a split second and then fell to the ground next to the decapitated body, disappearing in a puff of black smoke.
Harry breathed a heavy sigh of relief; Voldemort’s final Horcrux, the last one besides himself, was now gone. Nothing stood between him and the beast.
A shriek of rage rent the still night air.
“POTTER!”
“Harry, run!” Stephen’s voice called out to him suddenly from behind. “Get out of here! I’ll hold him off.”
Out of pure instinct he moved to obey but as he turned to flee he found himself looking into cold red eyes.
“Going somewhere?” Voldemort hissed humourlessly. He tutted mockingly, wagging his finger in Harry’s face. “That’s very rude of you, Harry. You haven’t even said hello yet, and it’s been so long since we caught up. Tell me… how is your girlfriend these days? Ginny, is it? I understand she’s not well…”
Rage swelled in Harry so fast that he didn’t have time to think of the consequences of loosing his temper in the presence of the snake standing before him.
“You bastard!” he yelled, shoving the skeleton-like figure roughly with his free hand, the sword of Gryffindor hanging loosely in the other. Voldemort stumbled backwards but held his ground, a placid expression on his face. “Don’t you dare speak her name!” Harry continued to rage through gritted teeth. He could hear the familiar but faint hissing in the back of his head growing steadily stronger but he didn’t care. The only thing on his mind at the moment was justice.
“This could have all been avoided, Harry,” Voldemort said mildly. “All you had to do was submit to me and Ginny would never have been hurt. If you hadn’t left me, I would never have had to resort to such drastic measures to get your attention. So in a way, this is your entire fault.”
Those words shocked his system more than a jolt of electricity. Even though he knew what the snake was saying was not true, the words touched some deep fear somewhere inside his soul that whispered the exact same thing. The hissing in his mind grew louder, distracting him, and he threw his hands over his ears in a vain attempt to stop it.
“Don’t listen to him, Harry,” Stephen said sharply from behind. “That’s bunk and you know it! His existence is all about hurting people, controlling them, and then murdering just for the fun of it. He’s a monster and he has to be stopped. He’s a master of lies and deceit. You know that.”
“Quiet!” Voldemort roared, turning his attention to Stephen. “You should have stayed gone, Hunter. Although I appreciate the nice gifts Lucius turned over to me, courtesy of your travels, you’re still nothing more than an annoyance after all these years. I’ve grown weary of your interference and your very existence.”
As if in slow motion, Harry watched Voldemort level his wand and point it at Stephen over Harry’s shoulder, forming the words of the killing curse. Snapping out of his stupor, he cried out and tackled Voldemort just as the spell was released from the wand. It shot off in the sky, bathing the clearing in a sickly green light.
This time his efforts caused Voldemort to fall hard to the ground with Harry practically landing on top of the Dark Lord’s prone body. Harry had forgotten that the sword was still in his hand. The razor sharp blade had cut them both, causing bright red blood to appear under Harry’s hand. He scrambled away from the monster in pain, holding the wound in his side. Voldemort did not move, his own wound gushing a black, sticky substance that smoked ominously.
Rough hands jerked him from behind.
“Harry, are you alright?” Stephen’s voice asked him with unbridled concern.
Harry swayed a bit but managed to stay on his feet. “Yeah…” he mumbled, checking his wound. “Yeah, I’m okay.”
Stephen looked like he wasn’t buying it, but it was obvious they didn’t have time to debate the issue. “Let’s get out of here,” he said, supporting Harry under the arm. “On the count of three we’re Apparating, got it?” Harry nodded mutely. Sounds from the direction of the house grew louder, but they ignored them. “One…, two…”
“There they are! Stop them!”
“…THREE!”
Harry’s world spun in an amazing array of lights, colours, and sounds and then he knew no more.
*
[A/N: Sorry for the delay in getting this chapter out. As many of you know, I am now living in Japan with my husband who’s a Warrant Officer (CW3) in the Army. Real life has hit me hard recently. First, in late September and part of October I had to go back to the United States because my mother is ill and there are a multitude of problems there beginning with my brother’s recent divorce and remarriage. While I was there my aunt passed away, so it was a blessing that I was home to be there for my mother during the funeral and afterwards. When I got home I had to plan my husband’s promotion party (good news in a sea of bad). Between my tutoring job, the kids’ sports (practice 4 days a week and games every Saturday), Paul’s promotion, family illnesses, Thanksgiving (we hosted 5 families), my daughter turning 12 and the subsequent birthday party, a visit to Tokyo Disneyland on my birthday, and preparations for Christmas I somehow lost my focus for this story. Can you blame me? This time of year is crazy, and this year it’s been insane. Thank you to everyone who is still reading this through all the delays, especially those who have taken the time to write me and give me gentle pushes along the way. You have all been wonderful. I am hoping to finish this story by Christmas, but no promises. Only a few more chapters left now. Maybe my subconscious just doesn’t want it to end, lol. I WILL finish, I swear. Thanks also need to go to Arnel for beta reading this.]
Chapter 31: The Reign of Darkness
Author's Notes: A big thanks to Sherylyn who came through for me as my emergency beta. My regular beta, Arnel, had computer problems and she answered the call. Thank you, thank you, thank you! Thanks to all my patient readers out there as well. I’m going to try to get the next chapter up soon and get this story knocked out. Your encouragement means the world to me!
“The Reign of Darkness”
Harry’s first moments of awareness were of Ginny. He felt her nearby, but just out of reach. In frustration he tried to search for her, but the closer he came the further away she seemed.
“Harry!” he thought he heard her call.
“Ginny! Where are you?” Frantically he tried to charge forward but was stopped by an invisible wall attached to his thoughts.
“Do not try to reach her, Prince,” a familiar feminine voice from somewhere inside his mind warned. “She is safe for now. It is you who is in danger.”
Confused, Harry responded. “How am I in danger?” he asked the voice.
“The Lord of Smoke and Mirrors lives,” a deep voice responded. This one was familiar also. “You destiny is not yet complete. Soon he will ride the wave of darkness and find you. You must be prepared.”
“If you cross the boundary between your mind and hers, you will live in the realm of the living dead,” another masculine voice reasoned with him. “We would be powerless to help you return and you would both be lost forever.”
“You can still save her,” a kind female voice said, “but time is short. You have been chosen, human, to free your people of the great evil that is upon you. Trust in yourself and the power inside you. Wake up Quetzalcoatl, Defender of Humanity, and face your destiny. It is time…”
“Harry!”
“Ginny…! Noooo!”
***
“He’s coming round… Harry, wake up!” Stephen’s voice echoed. He felt his cheeks being slapped roughly and he tried to jerk away. “That’s it, kid… come on, wake your arse up already! I’m not going to lose you now.”
“Do you think he’ll be alright?” he heard Hermione say worriedly.
“…’m fine,” he mumbled, trying to push something annoying away from his side. “Geroff me…”
“I think he’ll be okay,” Ron’s voice said sarcastically from somewhere out of his line of blurred vision.
Harry gasped as a wave of pain hit him in the side. “W-what happened?” he spluttered.
“Out of my way! Give me room to work,” he heard Madame Pomfrey exclaim. “He’s already lost too much blood. Now shoo! OUT!”
Vaguely he recognized the sounds of bottles and vials being dropped unceremoniously onto the nearby hospital tray. Hospital wing, he reasoned… Hogwarts. They’d made it.
He felt cold hands lift his shirt then, “Arrah!”
“Well, what do you expect, Mr. Potter?” the matron said gruffly. “That’s a nasty wound you managed this time. It has to be cleaned and disinfected before I heal it.”
She muttered something and then Harry’s head slowly began to clear. “What happened to Voldemort?” he asked when he could speak.
Madame Pomfrey gasped then recovered quickly; it was Stephen who finally answered after a brief pause. “You wounded him with the sword, Harry, but I don’t think he’s dead. I’ve never seen anything quite like it. You struck him through with the sword of Gryffindor, but he didn’t die. He should have, but he didn’t.”
“Can’t,” Harry reminded him. He tapped his forehead weakly with the tip of his index finger. “So long as this is here, he’ll never be gone.” He could now make out the people standing around his bed a safe distance from Madame Pomfrey and her potions. Hermione was chewing her bottom lip nervously. Ron was standing next to her looking both relieved and uncomfortable. Stephen, still ragged from several days on the road without proper nourishment or hygiene, nevertheless radiated his usual level of confidence. He stood tall and looked Harry in the eye when he spoke.
“So, you know.”
“Know?” Hermione said, concern permeating her face. “Know what?”
“That’ll do, Mr. Potter,” Madame Pomfrey said in a stern voice. She turned towards the others with a disapproving frown. “I’ll thank you to not upset my patient. He’s been through enough for one day. He needs rest.”
“Thanks, Madame Pomfrey,” Harry said gently, “but I’ve put this off far too long. Could you give us a minute, please?”
She bristled, straightening her matron’s uniform primly. “If that’s what you wish I suppose a few more minutes won’t hurt. I’ll inform Professor Dumbledore that you’ve returned. I’m sure he’ll want to have a word with both you and Mr. Hunter as soon as possible. Miss Weasley’s parents are speaking with him now concerning her… condition. Understandably, they are rather distraught.”
He noticed her fighting back a tear as she moved away. Harry stopped her with a slight touch of his hand. “Has there been any change?” he asked, although he knew there had not.
Her face grew sad. “I’m afraid not,” she said regretfully. “I don’t think…”
“She’s not dead,” Harry said vehemently, fighting down the guilt. Ginny would not want him wasting time feeling guilty — not when he could do something about it. “Tell her, Stephen.”
“If she was sprayed by the Cochicoatl, then no,” Stephen assured her. “She’s not dead, just in a very deep coma. It’s very old, very strong magic. She can still be saved, but she’ll need to be moved. We’ll be travelling a very long distance by Portkey as soon as Harry is well enough. There isn’t much time to waste.”
Stephen’s words seemed to perk the old matron up a bit. “Very well, I’ll need to speak with you as soon as possible then, Mr. Hunter, concerning the arrangements. Excuse me.” She moved off behind the curtain, pulling it straight behind her.
“Where does she need to go?” Ron asked Stephen.
“We have to take her back to the island, Ron,” Harry answered instead before Stephen could make up an excuse.
“The Mixtec island?” Hermione exclaimed. “The one where you stayed this summer?”
“Yes.”
“Harry,” Hermione asked carefully, “what were you talking about earlier? What do you know?”
Harry hesitated. “It’s complicated, but essentially the reason Voldemort can’t die is that he divided his soul and stored them away for safekeeping. He created Horcruxes, a very complicated Dark spell. The diary, the one Ginny wrote in her first year, that was a Horcrux.”
“That’s horrible!” Hermione exclaimed and Ron murmured his agreement.
“Well, most of them are gone now,” Harry assured them. “Dumbledore found all but one and destroyed them. I took care of one of the last tonight — Nagini, Voldemort’s snake.”
“He put part of his soul inside a snake?” Ron gasped. “That’s disgusting.”
Harry murmured his agreement all the while thinking how much more disgusting it was to actually harbour part of Voldemort’s soul inside his own body.
Hermione was giving him one of her patented shrewd looks. “But you said he still can’t die,” she said slowly. “That means…” She glanced fearfully at his scar.
Harry met her gaze steadily. “I have to make sure that Ginny is going to be okay before I deal with this problem. Her only hope is to for us to take her to the island. There’s a spell I can do to bring her out of this.”
“Well, I’m going with you,” Ron said firmly, sounding like he expected Harry to argue.
“Good,” Harry said, not bothering to hide his relief. “I was hoping you’d say that.” He would have laughed at Ron’s gobsmacked expression, but he didn’t have the energy.
“You’re not leaving me behind,” Hermione added firmly. “There’s no way I’m letting you face this on your own.”
“Fine by me,” Harry answered with a shrug. He had known there was no way Hermione would let them go on their own and the truth was he felt safer with her nearby.
“Excellent,” Ron agreed with a relieved smile.
“Harry, don’t you think—” Stephen started to say.
“Don’t try and change my mind, Stephen,” Harry warned, stopping him. “They’re coming with me, and that’s final. I need them and so does Ginny. We’re a team. …Always have been and always will be.”
“I was only going to suggest that we make Ginny’s parents aware of the plans,” Stephen said with a relenting sigh. “I’m sure they’re worried enough about their daughter as it is.”
“Mum was hysterical when she arrived,” Ron agreed grimly. “She’s convinced that Ginny’s dead, even though we told her she wasn’t.”
Harry moved off the bed and stood up.
“What do you think you’re doing?” Hermione cried. “Madame Pomfrey said you needed to stay in bed.”
“The sooner we get back to the island, the better,” he told her. “I can rest once Ginny is all right.”
Surprisingly Stephen agreed. “I’ll speak to Dumbledore myself and make the arrangements, but I’ll need that Portkey.”
Harry dug down into the pocket of his grimy jeans. He was still angry at Stephen for playing a hand in what had happened to Ginny but it was obvious that Stephen was doing his best to make up for it by agreeing to take Ron and Hermione with them — something he doubted very much he would have done a few days ago. Checking the other pocket, he came up empty. Frustrated, he turned both pockets inside out. “It was here, I swear… Did someone remove it while I was unconscious?”
Stephen’s face paled and he frowned. “No one touched your pockets, Quetzal. It must have fallen out.” He swore violently, moving around the small space and tugging at his hair in aggravation.
“It has to be here somewhere,” Harry muttered, checking his pockets again.
“What about your jacket?” Stephen asked, looking around. “Perhaps you put it somewhere else?”
“I wasn’t wearing one. No, I put it in my jeans,” he insisted, checking one more time for the object that seemed to have vanished. They all scanned the ground around them. “It’s gone.”
“This is bad, isn’t it?” Ron said from the other side of the bed.
“Yes,” Stephen agreed. “It is.”
“Maybe we should retrace your steps. Perhaps you lost it on the way here,” Hermione suggested.
“Good idea,” Stephen said. The four of them made their way out of the castle and down to the entrance of Hogwarts where Stephen and Harry had Apparated. The Portkey was nowhere to be found. After a solid hour of looking and several unsuccessful spells, Stephen called it quits. “It’s gone,” he announced.
“What now?” Harry asked, feeling terrible for making Stephen give him the damned thing in the first place and then losing it. The exhaustion was catching up with him and his side was beginning to ache.
“We go on without it,” Stephen said. “The Portkey can only be activated by using the name of the place it was intended to take us to. Even if it ends up in the wrong hands, the person would have to know what to say to make it work. The chances of that are very slim.” They were almost back to the hospital wing. “I’ll go find Dumbledore and inform him of what happened. He can send someone to look for the Portkey as soon as the coast is clear. In the meantime we go on with our plans. Ginny is running out of time. The antidote must be given within seven days and we’ve already wasted two of them.”
“I agree,” Harry said. “Ginny’s life is more important.” Secretly he was worried though — he had a bad feeling about this. He just hoped he was wrong.
***
“We’ll arrive inside the courtyard of my private quarters,” Stephen told the assembled group huddled around Ginny’s stretcher in the hospital wing. Madame Pomfrey had moved her to the portable and had arranged blankets around her even though Stephen had told her it wasn’t necessary — the weather on the island this time of year would be warm and sunny. Harry could understand why the matron hadn’t listened. Ginny’s skin was ice cold and her face was pale grey; wrapping her in blankets made the nurse feel like she was doing something to help. “As soon as we get there I’ll Apparate to the palace and explain to Chief Tecuhtl what’s happened. Harry will see that you’re settled in your rooms. Hopefully Chuen, my housekeeper, will be present to assist. The temple priests have to be notified and, as soon as it can be arranged, we will transport Ginny and Harry to the temple to perform the ritual spell that will lift this curse.”
“Provided that it can be done at all,” Snape’s sour voice said from the fringes of the room. “Personally, I think the girl’s beyond help.”
Stephen’s eyes sought out the Potions master disapprovingly. “I didn’t realize you’d be here,” he snapped, “and I didn’t ask for your assessment of the situation.”
“Professor Dumbledore instructed me to give you a message before you left on your… holiday.” He held up a piece of parchment but made no move to actually give it to anyone. “He’s tied up at the moment with other matters.” He gave Harry a pointed stare.
Harry’s anger blazed at the callus, insensitive attitude. This was far from a holiday, and Snape knew it. He seemed to be deliberately taunted Harry and Stephen, holding them up from their mission to goad them for no reason.
Angrily, Stephen stalked over to Snape and snatched it out of his hand. Snape gave him a cold stare but otherwise stayed silent. Stephen turned and read the message as he walked back to the group, then stuffed it into his pocket. “Ready?” he asked the group.
Harry raised an eyebrow but didn’t question him. “Ready.”
Ron and Hermione murmured their agreement.
“Right, then,” Stephen said. “Gather round the stretcher and hold on to the side. Ginny’s strapped in and the Portkey is the stretcher itself. It’s set to activate with the right words. As soon as I say them you’ll feel a tugging at your navel—”
“We’ve all travelled by Portkey before, Stephen,” Harry said impatiently.
“You didn’t let me finish,” Stephen shot back, annoyed. “As I was saying, you’ll feel a tugging at you navel and then a squeezing sensation in addition to the spinning. Try to take a deep breath beforehand because the longer the distance, the longer you’ll be without air. It shouldn’t be more than sixty seconds or so, but people often arrive at their destinations unconscious and have to be revived because they didn’t prepare. It’s a bit like swimming underwater.”
They all grabbed hold of the side of the portable bed and Harry placed his other hand inside Ginny’s limp one. ‘Hold on,’ he called out with his mind, ‘we’re going to fix this soon.’ He felt Macoa shift inside the backpack slung over his shoulders and knew that she was anticipating returning to her homeland.
Once they had a firm grasp Stephen nodded and everyone took a deep breath before he spoke the words. “Tlilli Tlapalla.”
Harry felt as if all the air in his lungs was sucked out the second the Portkey activated. The rush of wind that accompanied the familiar pulling sensation at his navel blew him off his feet. Luckily he was holding on to Ginny’s stretcher tightly. He could see Ron and Hermione fighting to keep hold of the portable bed. Ron’s face was red and he looked as if he was fighting for breath. Hermione seemed to be fairing better but even she looked a bit panicky. Stephen was the only one of the four of them who didn’t seem as if he was the least bit ruffled. He grinned widely at the teens and gave them a big wink.
Just when Harry thought he couldn’t take it anymore, the ground was under them and they all landed with a thump in the middle of Stephen’s courtyard. At least, Harry thought it was Stephen’s courtyard. It was difficult to tell because the house was practically in ruin and the area was in total disarray. Overhead the normally sunny sky was stone grey and a chilly breeze blew through the walkway like a cold jet stream. The very air was permeated with Dark magic. It surrounded him and filled him with a dread unlike anything he had experienced — at least not since the night he had fought the Lethifolds. He and Stephen both immediately reached for their wands.
“Nice place,” Ron commented wryly.
Hermione also looked around her with dread. “Can’t you see? It’s not supposed to look like this,” she answered him, reaching for her own wand. “Something’s wrong here.”
Harry shivered. “Hermione’s right. This is Dark Magic.”
“You three stay here with Ginny,” Stephen ordered. Harry could see the concern on his face as he looked around. “Hole up in the library. I’ll go to the palace and see what I can find out.”
Harry reluctantly nodded with a frown. He was torn between wanting to go with Stephen to find out for himself what had happened and staying to protect Ginny. His instinct to keep Ginny from harm won out, however, so he didn’t protest when Stephen made his way to the entrance of the house and disappeared from view. “Be careful,” he couldn’t help whispering to himself. He had a very bad feeling about this and, judging from the agitated movements coming from his backpack, Macoa did as well.
“Harry,” Hermione said lightly, breaking him from his trance, “shouldn’t we get Ginny inside?”
“Yeah,” he agreed. Looking around at the dilapidated building, he spotted the door to the library. “Over there.”
Hermione lifted her wand to perform a simple levitation spell on the stretcher and the hair on the back of his neck prickled a warning. “Wingard—”
Just in time he grabbed her wand. “No,” he said. “No magic unless absolutely necessary. We don’t want to draw attention to ourselves.”
“What about the Portkey?” Hermione pointed out. “That was magical.”
Harry searched his memory for what he knew of Portkeys. “They manipulate the time-space continuum, which is a natural phenomenon,” he said, trying to put it in terms she could understand. “The biggest magic was performed upon activation. With so much Dark Magic in the sky surrounding the island I don’t think our arrival has been noted yet. But any spells done from here on out will disturb the balance surrounding the island. That’s why Stephen didn’t Apparate. He didn’t want to give us away, plus he had no idea what he would be walking into on the other end.” He really didn’t know if this was true or not but it seemed reasonable to him. Besides, he wanted Ron and Hermione to think he had everything under control so they wouldn’t panic. That was the last thing they needed right now.
Hermione nodded resolutely and reached for the stretcher. Ron and Harry did the same. Together they carried Ginny’s lifeless body into the library which, thankfully, was not locked. The room looked sparse and huge without all of Stephen’s books lining the shelves, strewn in semi-unorganized piles. A few of the volumes had been left behind, however. They littered the shelves here and there, seeming to cling together for warmth in the cold space. Harry shut the door behind them and looked around.
“Put her down over there next to the fireplace,” he instructed. Once that was done he shrugged off the backpack and deposited Macoa safely on top of Stephen’s desk. Unzipping it, he quickly filled in Macoa on what was happening. She agreed that it would be better for her to stay inside the warmth of the bag for now. “I know where the woodpile is out back,” he told them. “Ron and I can go find it. We’ll get a fire started, but it’ll have to be small so the smoke won’t attract attention. Hermione can stay here and look after Ginny until we get back, then we’ll try to find some extra blankets.”
“So much for our tropical getaway,” Ron grumbled, looking around at the cold room dubiously.
“Well, we knew it wasn’t going to be a holiday no matter what Snape said,” Harry said stoically, silently agreeing with Ron — he had been expecting this to be easier than what it was turning out to be. “Keep your wand at the ready. We’ll be back as soon as we can,” he told Hermione, leading Ron out the door and back into the icy cold wind.
Harry led Ron through a corridor that connected to the kitchen and out towards the back of the house. From here there was a perfect view of the ocean. Huge black waves lapped at the beach as if the sea was trying to take out its anger on the island. Seaweed and broken shells littered the shorefront, reminding Harry of a war zone littered with explosive mines. Behind the kitchen he and Ron found a modicum of kindling for the fire. He sent Ron on ahead with it and then went in search of some food and blankets.
The kitchen was closest so Harry thought he’s start with some food. They hadn’t had time to eat anything before they left and he was beginning to get hungry. He knew Ron would be starving and he wanted to keep them all fed so that their minds could stay sharp in case there was trouble. As he rustled about the kitchen opening up pottery containers and baskets, he was surprised when a voice cried out in broken English, “Where you come from?”
“Chuen?” he said, surprised, as he whipped around ready to fight.
It was Chuen, but she looked as bad as the house. Her hair was even greyer that it had been and her skin was pale and sallow. “Xolotl home now?” she asked almost desperately.
“Yes, he’s here,” Harry answered. “My friends are here, too. They’re in the library. Xolotl went to see Tecuhtl to find out what’s happened. ”
Her face grew stormy. “Bad things, Quetzal-Harry. Bad things happen here. No sun, no crops, children and old people sick… Dark Magic. Very bad. People blame on you.”
“On me?” Harry repeated edgily. “Why?”
“You kill Imacaci,” she said, looking out the window towards the black Ocean. “Darkness not like. It searching for you, but you left. Darkness stay. People leave village and hide in Temple for protection — closer to Gods. Chuen stay to wait. Knew you would come back and fix — make island better.”
Harry’s hopes sank. “It’s been like this since I left?” he asked, almost afraid to hear the answer.
“Two suns after,” she said, nodding her head. “People leave for Temple last full moon. Chuen stay, you come back.”
Harry shivered. He had felt the Dark Magic coming for him, but he had hoped it would have gone when it didn’t find him. Instead it had stayed and the people of the island had suffered.
“Harry!” he heard Ron call out over the wind. “Where are you? Are you all right?”
Chuen looked frightened but Harry reassured her.
“That’s just my friend, Ron,” he said. “I’m supposed to be looking for food and blankets. There are five of us, including Stephen, but one of us is ill. We came here for the cure so that she’ll get better. Don’t worry,” he said when he saw Chuen’s look of fear. “It’s not contagious. She’s been cursed.”
“I get food,” Chuen told him understandingly. “You go to small room by bedrooms out there,” she directed, pointing towards the sleeping quarters — Harry supposed she meant a cupboard. “Find blanket. I meet you in library.”
Harry nodded and moved off, running into Ron as he exited the kitchen.
“Did I hear you talking to someone?” he asked.
“Stephen’s housekeeper, Chuen,” he said, confirming. “She’s getting us some food and told me where to find the blankets. Come on, you can help.”
They found the linen cupboard and loaded up their arms with blankets, then made their way back to the library, practically meeting Chuen at the door. She had a steaming pot of soup on a tray, some flat bread, and five bowls. Harry saw Ron’s eyes light up at the pleasing smell.
“Not much,” Chuen apologized, “but hot.” Together they made their way into the room. Chuen’s eyes widened at the sight of Ginny lying motionless and pale on the portable bed. She turned questioning eyes on Harry.
“My enemy, the one you call Tezcatlipoca, sent her a statue from this island.” Harry explained in Chuen’s native language. “Stephen called it the Cochicoatl.”
Chuen’s eyes widened. “I know of this statue,” she replied in Nahuatl. “My father told us stories. It was used by our enemies centuries ago to lure people to their deaths in the hopes of saving the victim of the Cochicoatl. More bad omens Quetzal-Harry. More bad magic.” She shook her head sadly.
Just then the door swung open and Stephen entered. “The palace is empty,” he said to Harry. “Everyone’s gone.” Then, as if noticing his housekeeper for the first time, he exclaimed, “Chuen! Merlin, am I glad to see you! What’s happened here?”
Chuen told Stephen the same story that she told Harry, only in more detail — Stephen got frustrated with her broken English and insisted she speak Nahuatl. When she had finished and they had lit a small fire, they sat on some mats that Chuen found, huddled in blankets, and ate the soup, discussing their options.
“This complicates things,” Stephen sighed. “We can’t very well go waltzing into the temple asking for a priest or healer now, can we? If they’re as frightened and angry as what I expect, they might kill us on the spot to appease whatever God they think we’ve offended.” He groaned and raked a hand through his hair. “Could this get any worse?”
Harry looked at Ginny, his resolve hardening. “Whatever it takes, Stephen, we have to get them to understand. We only have a few days left before the curse can’t be broken and she dies. I won’t let that happen.”
“Maybe Chuen could help explain the situation,” Hermione suggested. “Maybe they’ll listen to her.”
Chuen shook her head emphatically from side to side. “I banished from village when I refuse temple,” she said. “People angry that I choose to believe in my Prince and the legends my father tell when I was a young girl. I stand by Xolotl and Quetzal-Harry, but they not listen.”
Stephen put a hand on Chuen’s shoulder. “Thank you, Chuen. I know what that must have cost you.”
“No thanks needed,” she said defiantly. “I know you coming back and I know you defeat the Bad Magic. I right — you come back home. You defeat the Bad Magic, too. I believe it.”
Stephen looked at Harry. “I’m at a loss, Quetzal. I don’t know what to do.”
Harry watched Hermione pull a scroll from the pocket of her robes. “I brought this with us just in case,” she said, unrolling it for them to see. It was a translation of a poem or song originally written in Nahuatl. “I thought it might come in handy,” she explained. “It’s part of your prophecy from the Popol Vuh, Harry — the religious texts. It’s the prophecy of Quetzalcoatl and the Shadow of Tlilli Tlapalla.”
“I don’t understand,” he told them.
“Read it,” Stephen suggested. “Read it aloud, in fact.”
Harry opened the scroll and began reading.
“Inside the Mist, the Darkness gathers and waits for the hour of Destiny. Without form, the Shadow grows stronger as it feeds on the souls of human spirits. In the Centre of the Universe lies the answer. At the darkest hour when the moon is at its brightest, Quetzalcoatl in the form of a man-child will free the people of the Shadow as he had been freed from its power by the Key. The child of Lightning and Thunder will restore hope to the people, and they will in turn save his soul. At that time, the Chosen will fight the Evil One in the Eye of Heaven and Hell for control of the world. Ehecailacozcatl will live again.”
He looked up at Hermione and Stephen as he finished. “Explain,” he said with a frown. “What does this mean?”
They looked at each other dubiously. “We’re not exactly certain,” Hermione finally admitted. “But at least part of it is clearer now than before.”
Stephen took the parchment and spread the scroll out on the desk. “The Mist is what surrounds us,” he said, using his finger to draw a circle around the island in the drawing. “It is the network of spells that protect this place from outsiders — the thing that has kept the Mixtec people isolated for generations. The Darkness is the concentration of Dark Magic that has obviously been hovering over the island, I suppose.”
“Where does it come from?” Ron asked curiously.
Stephen glanced at Harry. “Near as I can figure, events from last summer triggered this wave of Dark Magic or Shadow, if you will.”
“You mean what I did to the Lethifolds,” Harry deduced. “That’s what started this?”
“Possibly,” Stephen told him. “But I’m only guessing.”
“Imacaci bad,” Chuen said, shrinking back in fear.
Stephen nodded in agreement. “The Imacaci have been a problem on this island for centuries. They come out of the darkest recesses of the jungle to feed on human souls and then disappear — sometimes for years at a time. No one knows for certain from where they originate or how they got here, but there is a theory.”
He looked around the room. Spotting what he was looking for, he strode over to the wall and pulled a large map of the island down for closer inspection. “I drew this a few years ago. No one had ever bothered to make a scaled map of Tlilli Tlapalla before, so I took it on as a project in my spare time for research purposes.” He pointed to the city area which took up only about a third of the island. “The island is supposedly the centre of the universe in the eyes of the Mixtecs. This city is the center of commerce and government but the majority of it lies on the coast to the west.”
Stephen pointed to the largest structure on the map, the Temple. “This is the Temple of the Gods in the centre of the city. The Temple is considered a stairway to Heaven where the Gods live. That’s why the people of the island have retreated to it. They’re hoping that their Gods will save them from the Darkness. If they die in the Temple their spirits will be closer to Heaven, making it easier to ascend. But the Temple is manmade. It doesn’t lie in the centre of the island, only the centre of the city.”
“What’s this area here?” Ron asked, pointing to the middle of the drawing where a green spot covered most of the middle of the island
“That’s the jungle,” Harry told him, remembering his trek through it vividly. “Not much lives in there but wild animals, trees, dangerous magical plant life, and reptiles.”
“And the Imacaci,” Stephen corrected him. “The Popol Vuh tells of a Giant Tree that forms the centre of the Universe. The roots of the tree supposedly descend into the Underworld where the darkest creatures live, including the Imacaci. The trunk of the tree is representative of the Earth where we live, and the branches reach up into Heaven to the home of the gods. According to the stories, all creation was born from this tree.
“Again, this is all legend, but the people believe that the Giant Tree lies in the middle of the jungle in the exact middle of the island. That would put it about here,” he touched the spot on the map, “not terribly far from the most eastern border of the city. The Imacaci are believed to have originated from the Giant Tree of Life. It’s like a gateway to both the Underworld and Heaven where the Gods supposedly live. When the Imacaci take a life, the people believe the soul of the victim is taken to the Underworld beneath the Tree where they are tormented for all eternity.”
“Some would call that Hell,” Hermione said quietly.
Chuen shuddered. “It not good to speak of this, Xolotl,” she implored. “Evil has ears. It not like you talk of it. It come find us and take us there.”
“I’m sorry, Chuen,” he apologized, “but they have to understand. The precise location of the tree is unknown because it is forbidden to explore that part of the island. Those who have tried never came back.” He glanced at Harry. “Well, all but one.”
“Me?” he said, surprised. “Are you saying I’m the only one who ever came back from there?”
“That’s why he was so surprised to see you back,” he explained. “Throughout the history of this island troublemakers have been banished to the jungle by using a kind of Portkey. For one reason or another they are never seen or heard from again. Tecuhtl admitted to me later that he had done that to you. No one had ever come back before, but somehow you managed it. That convinced them more than anything that you were indeed the Chosen One, their new Quetzalcoatl reincarnate.”
“But Harry didn’t know the history of the area,” Hermione argued. “He wouldn’t have any reason to fear it so he was more likely to keep a cool head when he found himself stuck there. Besides, he never panics in those kinds of situations, anyway.”
“Hermione’s right,” he told Stephen. “All I remember thinking was that I was lost and needed to find my way out. I used the Point Me charm to find my way back, and I was focused more on the stick in my hand than my surroundings. If I had known the history of the place I may have been more frightened, but I didn’t so I focused on a goal — getting back in time for the ballgame. Then I ran into Macoa who had made a nest in a…” he paused, looking towards the bag where the snake lay snuggled inside. “…in a tree.”
He went to the bag and retrieved his friend.
“Macoa, do you know where the Giant Tree of Life is?” he asked.
“Of coursse,” she replied. “It iss in the ccentre of the universse.”
“Is the Tree of Life the same tree I found you in last summer in the jungle?”
She stared at him for a minute then responded, “Yess.”
“Can you take me there?” he asked hopefully.
“If you wish, Princce,” she said hesitantly. “But it will be dangerouss. The gateway to the Underworld hass been opened and a Great Evil hass been unleashed. It iss very powerful — posssibly more powerful than even you.”
“This gateway that’s been opened,” he asked. “Is that the source of all this trouble? Is that the cause of the Darkness?”
“You killed the form of the Imacaci, but not their esssencce,” she said. “Their sspirits are angry and they are ussing the ssouls of the tormented to punish the people until they can sstrike revenge on you.”
“Why didn’t you tell me this before?” he said angrily.
“It wass not the right time,” she said simply. “And you did not assk.”
“What can I do to stop it?” he asked her.
“You musst bind the Evil and ssend it back to the Underworld, then closse the gateway forever.”
“How am I to do that?”
“That I do not know. I can take you there, but I can not help you in this. It is your quest, your Destiny, not mine.” She turned her head and slithered off his arm back into the bag. He didn’t stop her because he knew she would tell him no more.
After he relayed everything that Macoa had told him to the others they sat in silence for awhile trying to piece together everything they knew.
“So all we really know is that Harry’s going to somehow free the people from this Shadow,” Ron summed it up. “Then they’ll save his life somehow only to have him turn around and fight You-Know-Who.”
“When are you going to say his name, Ron?” Harry said. “It’s Voldemort.”
“No… not his life,” Stephen said distractedly in response to what Ron had said. “I’m the one who did this translation. It’s an ancient word that has no direct translation to English. The closest I could come to the meaning was soul, but it’s more than that…” he hesitated, looking at Ginny. “It’s more like an extension of one’s self.” He looked up at Harry.
“Soul mate,” Harry finished for him. “It means they’ll save Ginny’s life and mine in the process. But that’s only if I can figure out how to save them from the Darkness.”
“Let’s look at it this way,” Hermione suggested. “What saved you, Harry?”
Harry shrugged. “Ginny saved me,” he said. “She called and I listened. From there I just… pulled myself out.” He paused, thinking hard.
“So, what if you called out to the people?” Hermione suggested.
“Hermione,” Harry said doubtfully, “Chuen already said they blame me for all of this. I don’t think they’ll listen.”
“No,” Stephen said suddenly, “Hermione’s right. They may blame you, but they still believe you are the Chosen One, their Quetzalcoatl. You have god status with them, Harry. If you use that to your advantage, then it may be what we need to turn this around.”
Harry got up and paced, trying to think. “At the darkest hour when the moon is at its brightest,” he muttered. “That doesn’t make sense. How can it be dark and bright at the same time?”
“Maybe it’s a metaphor,” Hermione suggested. “It could stand for something else.”
“Midnight is the last hour of the night, just before the new day,” Ron interjected.
“And tonight is a full moon,” Stephen added. “So, tonight at midnight.”
Harry went to his bag and unzipped it again, finding Macoa there waiting for him expectantly.
“I’m ready to face my Destiny, Macoa, but I need your help,” he said in Parseltongue. “I’m going to make a grand entrance into the Temple as Quetzalcoatl and I need you to be by my side and visible for all to see. Then I need you to take me to the Tree of Life. Will you do it?”
“Of coursse, Princce,” she hissed back. “I am here to sserve you. I will do as you assk.”
He put her around his neck and turned to the others, saying in a confident and certain voice, “I’m going to the Temple of the Gods at midnight tonight to demand the healing of my soul mate, Ginevra Weasley, in exchange for ridding the island of this Evil. I will not be refused.”
The four of them looked at each other, and then back at Harry. They didn’t look confused or shocked or dismayed — none of the emotions Harry had expected from them. Instead they looked determined. Stephen stood up tall. “I’ll stand with you,” he said.
Ron stood up. “Me too.”
“Me, three,” Hermione said, as she came to her feet.
Chuen looked at the others and then stood as well. “I stand with my Prince,” she said in Nahuatl.
“Don’t… forget… me…” a very weak and raspy voice said from the corner. Harry turned in surprise to see Ginny with her eyes open. Her face was still as pale as death and her body wasn’t moving, but she was alive.
“Ginny!” Harry cried as he sprinted over to her. “You’re awake!”
“Not… for… long,” she rasped inside his mind. “The… poison… is… too… strong.”
“The hatchling iss working itss magic,” Macoa, who was still around his neck, told Harry. “Being home hass made it sstronger, jusst ass it hass done for us. We feel the magic of the Ancient Oness closse by, even through the Darknesss. The offsspring hass abssorbed ssome of the poisson and hass allowed her to sspeak to you.”
“No… matter… what… happens,” she told him weakly, “…remember. I love you. You… are… MY Prince. I… believe… in… you, Harry.”
He leaned over his girlfriend, the tears flowing freely. “I love you too, Ginny,” he told her fiercely. “I’m not going to let you die. You’ll see — I’m going to make them listen. Just hang on a little bit longer, love.” He kissed her forehead, making her face wet where he touched her and she closed her eyes, slipping back into the recesses of her mind.
He looked at the others who had gathered around them and sighed. “She’s gone again. The protection that Macoa’s egg gave her absorbed some of the Dark Magic, but it wasn’t enough to break the curse. She was able to talk to me for a minute, but now she’s slipped away again.” He sought out Stephen’s eyes and held his gaze. “This ends now,” he said with authority. “I won’t lose her.”
Stephen put his hand on Harry’s shoulder. “It’s the right decision, Harry. I can feel it. Something big is about to happen and we need to get to the Temple as soon as possible and make them understand that we’re not responsible for this Dark Magic before it’s too late. I have a feeling that Voldemort’s on his way and the sooner we rid the island of this Dark Magic, the better chance we have of winning this war.”
Harry looked around at the group wondering if they would all still be alive at the end of this thing to celebrate their victory. He intended to win, but he knew he’d give his life to save his friends. Was he really powerful enough to fight the people of the island, the Death Eaters, Voldemort, and the powers of Hell to do it? He certainly hoped so.
Chapter 32: Quetzalcoatl Reborn
Disclaimer: The characters and situations of Harry Potter depicted in this story are the legal property of J.K. Rowling, Bloomsbury, and AOL Time Warner, and have been used without permission. No copyright infringement is intended.No profit is being made off this story. It is for entertainment purposes only.
[A/N: FYI… A teopati (te-o-pa-ti) is a doctor. The word is a real one that combines holy (teo) and medical arts (patli). Quite appropriate here, I think.]
“Quetzalcoatl Reborn”
“Inside the Mist, the Darkness gathers and waits for the hour of Destiny. Without form, the Shadow grows stronger as it feeds on the souls of human spirits. In the Centre of the Universe lies the answer. At the darkest hour when the moon is at it’s brightest, Quetzalcoatl in the form of a man-child will free the people of the Shadow as he had been freed from its power by the Key. The child of Lightning and Thunder will restore hope to the people, and they will in turn save his soul. At that time, the Chosen will fight the Evil One in the Eye of Heaven and Hell for control of the world. Ehecailacozcatl will live again.”
They shouldered the wind and the cold as they made their way through the silent, dark village to the base of the Temple carrying Ginny’s portable in between them.
“And just how in the bloody hell are we supposed to climb that with my sister strapped to the stretcher?” Ron asked in a bewildered voice.
“We’re not climbing,” Harry told him. “We’re Apparating.”
“I thought we weren’t using magic,” Hermione pointed out.
“It won’t make much of a difference now, will it?” Harry said. “Besides, I don’t mind shaking things up a bit. I can hold it off long enough for us to get inside,” he said with confidence he didn’t know he possessed.
“Are you sure about this, Quetzal?” Stephen asked dubiously.
Harry nodded. “Positive. You four go first with Ginny. I’ll follow right behind and if anything goes wrong, I can cover you lot until you get inside.”
Stephen sighed but didn’t say anything. He did as Harry asked and prepared the others to Apparate with the stretcher, Ginny between them, while Harry got Macoa out of the bag and put her around his neck.
“The moment you usse magic the Dark will ssee,” Macoa told him seriously. “It will come after you, Princce, sso be prepared.”
“I will be,” he told her, gripping his wand tightly in his right hand. “See you at the top,” he told the others as they too gripped their wands tightly and prepared to do a group Apparation, a feat none but Stephen had ever tried before. In Chuen’s case, she didn’t even have a wand so she held Stephen’s arm tightly with one hand and the stretcher with another to Side-Along Apparate.
“We have to coordinate this perfectly,” Stephen told the others, “or it won’t work. On the count of three we go. One…, two…, three!”
They all performed the spell simultaneously and disappeared.
Harry took a deep breath as the wind picked up suddenly and Disapparated from the spot, reappearing directly behind them as the black storm howled, threatening to blow him off his feet.
“Run!” he yelled at the group. They took off as fast as they could towards the large door to the temple, hindered by the strong winds that were only growing fiercer.
Harry turned his back on the group and faced the Dark Magic blowing all around him. He blocked out the fear and focused on his friends — the people he cared most about and loved.
Macoa raised her head and hissed a warning at the wind.
“Leave us alone and permit us to enter,” she commanded, “or you will face the wrath of the gods!”
“NO!” an unearthly voice screeched. It seemed to be coming from the storm, but Harry couldn’t tell for sure. “He has destroyed the Imachi and opened the gateway. He must pay for his crimes!”
“YOU DESTROY INNOCENT PEOPLE AND KILL WITHOUT MERCY!” Harry yelled back with conviction. “YOU HAVE NO AUTHORITY HERE, SO LEAVE NOW, BEFORE IT IS TOO LATE!”
“NO! It is you who should leave!” the angry voice answered.
Harry raised his hands to protect himself as a blast of ice-cold air rocketed his way. He felt the magic of the bands around his wrists glow and the power well up inside him as he caught the blast in his hands and reflected it back. The effort left him sweating, but not too terribly exhausted. Remembering his training, he used his elemental abilities to call forth his own wind to battle the dark clouds of magic that had formed. The tattoo on his chest grew warm, increasing his magic and shielding him from the cold. He directed the wind to do his bidding and keep out the Dark, protecting the Temple and the people within.
Standing on the holy place of a magical island with magic all around him, Harry felt more powerful than he ever had in his life. The more magic he used, the more magic seemed to come to him. It was like he was a magnet and magic was his metal — it flew to him from everywhere, building his strength. Gradually as his magic increased, his sight shifted and he could see the essence of the beast he was fighting, snarling and snapping at the edges of the shield he had formed to hold it at bay. The wind elements had created a white ring of clouds moving in a circular motion around the temple, like an old-fashioned English mote. The rest of the island was covered in Dark clouds but the Temple was calm and peaceful — like an oasis in the middle of a raging desert. Above them the sky became visible, crystal clear. Stars twinkled vibrantly and the moon shone down on them bright and full, reminding him that life was proceeding as normal elsewhere in the world. His thoughts turned briefly to Remus and what he was doing during this full moon, hoping that his father’s old friend was well.
Hearing a small gasp, he turned towards the large doors to see the others staring at him dumbly.
“And I always thought Hermione was scary,” Ron said weakly when he noticed they had Harry’s attention. “That was bloody amazing, mate!”
“I’ve never seen anything like it!” Hermione exclaimed. “You’re practically glowing with magic, Harry. How did you do it?”
Harry shrugged. He had no clue how to explain what he had done. Almost everything his did lately seemed to be driven by instinct. “I don’t know,” he admitted. “But it worked, didn’t it?”
Chuen was speechless, looking at Harry reverently, but Stephen regarded him with a keen expression. “Those elemental talents of yours are finally kicking in, I see,” he said with mild approval. “Good work, kid. Now tell us how to get this bloody door open so we can get inside.”
Harry looked at the door and spoke the word ‘open’ in Parseltongue. The heavy stones creaked open, allowing them entrance into the Temple.
“Stop!” a sharp voice commanded from the dark in Nahuatl. “In the name of Chief Tecuhtl, I command you. Stay where you are!”
Stephen snapped his fingers and the Torches blazed to life, revealing about a dozen fierce warriors, their spears drawn and pointed at the group.
“We demand an audience with Chief Tecuhtl as soon as possible,” he told them in a confident, firm voice.
“By whose authority do you dare make such demands?” the warrior who had spoken asked, distrust blazing in his eyes.
“By the authority of Quetzalcoatl,” Harry answered in their language, baring his chest and the tattoo that still glowed brightly. “I am keeping the monster chained,” he growled, “but my patience runs thin.”
“Let them enter,” a familiar arrogant voice commanded. “He is your Prince and he has returned to deliver us from this evil.”
The Warriors parted and Harry was soon face to face with his old rival, Tlaloc.
“You have changed,” Tlaloc commented, looking him up and down critically.
“You have not,” Harry said coolly. His expression mirrored Tlaloc’s, but his lips twitched dangerously.
Seeing this, Tlaloc broke out in a grin, an action that seemed wrong on his face somehow. He laughed loudly, making Harry relax a bit. By the same token, Harry could feel the others in his company breathing a sigh of relief as well.
“My brother has returned!” Tlaloc exclaimed happily, slapping him on the back. Then, turning to Stephen, he did the same. “The great warriors have returned to save us from this misery! Praise the Gods!”
Hermione and Ron jumped in fright as the warriors let out loud whoops of joy. Harry had forgotten that they couldn’t understand Nahuatl and vowed to get Stephen to perform the translation charm on them as soon as possible.
He bowed to Tlaloc and his men as a show of respect. “I am truly sorry for any trouble I may have caused. If I had known my actions concerning the Imacaci would have this effect, I would never have done it. Please forgive me, and accept my assurances that we are here as friends and brothers to help rid your people of this curse.”
He was embarrassed when the warriors bent down on one knee to honour him, including Tlaloc.
“It is we, Prince, who ask your forgiveness,” Tlaloc said humbly. “Some doubted whether you would return. We do not deserve your pity. We lost faith in our Prince and the prophecy that foretold these events. That is our mistake.”
“Please,” Harry implored, “please, get up. There isn’t time for this. We must speak to Tecuhtl as soon as possible.”
Tlaloc and his men rose to their feet. “Our leader is ill,” Tlaloc said gravely. “He is dying. But I will gladly take you to him. Maybe there is something you can do to help him.”
Harry looked at Stephen who nodded his head in agreement. “All right,” Harry agreed. “I can try, but I make no promises.” He turned and filled in Ron and Hermione on what had transpired.
“Be careful, Harry,” Hermione warned him looking at the warriors with suspicion. One of them was curiously trying to get a better look at Ron’s red hair. “I don’t like this.”
“I know, Hermione, but it’s a better reception than I expected,” he told her. “Just stay close to me and try to look confident. You too, Ron.”
In response, Ron growled at the curious native who was examining his hair and gave him a fierce look that clearly said ‘back off’. The warrior jumped and backed away.
“How’s that for confidence?” Ron asked Harry.
“It’ll do,” he answered, rolling his eyes. “Let’s go.”
He moved forward and his group moved to follow him with Ginny, but the warriors blocked their way.
“Only you, Quetzalcoatl,” Tlaloc said tightly. “Your brother Xolotl may come as well, if he chooses, and the Mixtec woman. But the others must stay here.”
Harry shook his head, trying to control his anger. “They are my family and closest confidants. Where I go, they go.”
“Then you stay, too,” he said stubbornly.
“You must not give in to him on this,” Macoa advised. “If you submit, he will think you are weak. Prove to him and the others that you are a force to be reckoned with and show them why you demand their respect.”
The men regarded the snake and her hissing with fear and tightened their hold on their spears.
Harry hardened his resolve then waved his hand, making one of the walls disappear. Outside the storm surrounding the Temple was still snapping furiously at the white walls of clouds created by Harry’s wind elements. All was quiet inside the bubble, but outside it the wind howled violently.
“Do not try my patience, Tlaloc,” he said evenly. “I have come to offer my help, not to be treated with disrespect. Where I go, they go. The girl is not sick — she has merely been cursed by an ancient artefact from your people, the Cochicoatl. I need the healer to help me remove the curse in order to save her life. In exchange for that, I will save your people from this Evil.”
The warriors looked out on the storm in fear and Harry could hear them murmuring amongst themselves as he looked on placidly. Tlaloc did not join in the conversations going on around him, but stared at him with narrowed eyes. Finally he seemed to come to a decision.
“Forgive my impertinence, Prince,” he said with a small bow of his head. “Of course they may pass.”
“Thank you, Tlaloc,” he said, waving his hand and replacing the wall. “That was a wise decision.”
Harry charmed the stretcher to follow along beside them as they walked and made a point to stay close to Ginny. It just made him feel better to be near her.
As they walked, Stephen, who was walking behind him, whispered in English, “Well played, Harry. I couldn’t have done it better myself.” Harry noticed with amusement that he didn’t get too close to him, however, because Macoa was still draped around his neck.
“What was the problem?” Hermione whispered to them from her position on the other side of the stretcher. She was walking in front parallel to Harry and Ron was behind her parallel to Stephen. Chuen took up the rear and the warriors formed a circle all around them with Tlaloc in the lead.
“They didn’t want to let you and Ron pass with Ginny,” Harry told her in a hushed voice. “It may be because you’re an outsider and haven’t earned their trust yet, or it may be that they fear Ginny’s condition. Tlaloc, in particular, harbours bad feelings towards outsiders because of the Spaniards. Apparently, they brought diseases with them that killed a huge number of people from the three civilizations that make up the Mixtec people — although I’m sure you already know that. Bottom line is that he tried to assert his dominance by insisting that you three stay behind. Macoa advised me to make certain I let him know who’s in charge. That’s why I gave them a peek outside — to show them that I’m in control and they need to play nice.”
Hermione raised an eyebrow. “I’m impressed. When did you learn to play politics?”
“Everyone grows up, Hermione,” he said seriously, “even me.”
“Yeah, too bad you didn’t learn that lesson sooner,” Ron commented dryly. “It would have saved you a few detentions with Umbridge.”
Harry laughed lightly. “You’re absolutely right, Ron.”
He leaned back and asked Stephen quietly if he would mind placing the translation charm on his friends as soon as it was convenient to do so. It would just make it easier for them rather than having to explain everything that was said all the time. To his surprise, Stephen had some reservations about that.
“Our position here is critical, Quetzal,” Stephen said quietly in his left ear so that Ron and Hermione couldn’t hear. “You have to appear as if you are in charge, and act accordingly. Any little thing could discredit your authority and turn the tide in favour of the Mixtecs. Remember, they have numbers on their side. If Ron or Hermione happened to say the wrong thing, it could hurt us. For now I think its better that they not communicate with anyone other than us. The only Mixtecs who understand any English at all are Chuen, Masaya, and Chac. Masaya is fluent in the language. Her father had her learn English to please her future husband, whom she had been promised to — as you well know.”
Harry shuddered, recalling how he had dodged that bullet. “Yes, I remember very well, thank you.”
“Chac took an early interest in learning the language but quickly became bored with it,” Stephen continued. “He knows some English, but not enough to translate. Masaya, however, does. So let the others know to be careful of what they say, especially around her.”
Harry nodded. “Is there a spell that could allow them to understand the language but not be able to speak it?” he asked.
Stephen thought for a moment, seeming to sift his memory for such as spell. “I don’t recall,” he said finally, shaking his head, “but Hermione might know. I loaned her a book on travel charms after she expressed an interest in the translation charm. That was months ago so I doubt she’d even remember, but it’s worth a try.”
“If anyone would remember,” Harry said confidently, “it’s Hermione.”
He turned and quietly relayed his and Stephen’s conversation to the other two.
“Harry, that’s brilliant!” Hermione exclaimed quietly. “In all the excitement I had forgotten about that charm. It’s called the Eavesdropper Spell. It’s not at all complicated to do in theory if I remember correctly, but I’ve never tried it.”
“Well, now would be a perfect time to try it out,” Harry told her. “Just don’t make it obvious that you’re doing anything magical — wordless would be best. I don’t want to ruin our advantage, or make the warriors nervous.”
She cast a side-long glance at one of the ferocious looking men accompanying them. “I agree,” she whispered with a worried expression on her face.
Noticing her unease, Harry tried to reassure her. “Don’t worry, Hermione. I’ve got this under control. I can’t explain it but I feel… different. This island does something to me. It makes me believe like I can do anything.”
“So I’ve noticed,” she said with admiration. For some reason Hermione’s approval made him feel even more confident.
They came to a part of the temple Harry had never been to before. The corridor where they had been walking had led to a staircase that descended down into the lower levels of the pyramid. Harry could see villagers milling about and doing business, children running around and tossing balls, even some animals. It seemed as if the temple had expanded to accommodate the entire population of the island. The ceiling was charmed to seem like daylight, and it was bright and sunny and warm with a slight breeze.
The further they walked the more attention they gathered. Most seemed curious, but a few were obviously angry and had to be restrained by other villagers, or in some cases the warriors that acted as their guards. Harry’s protectiveness kicked in as the crowd became more and more rowdy. He silently cast a Bubble Charm Shield around his friends and himself to protect them from possible magical attacks.
‘Tlaloc and Chuen weren’t lying,” he told Macoa. “They really are angry. They blame me for all this, and maybe they’re right. Maybe I never should have gotten involved.”
“They are frightened,” Macoa answered. “You musst show them that you are here to help. Be sstrong, Princce. You need their asssisstancce to cure your Princesss.”
Harry knew she was right.
The further they walked the more rowdy the crowd got. At some point someone in the crowd decided to throw rotten fruit at the group, but luckily Harry’s foresight caused the carnage to bounce off his shield without inconveniencing the people inside. The warriors around them however got pelted by the onslaught and looked even more annoyed and angry. Harry felt sorry for them but his main responsibility was to protect his friends, so he tried to ignore the chaos and focus on what he was going to do once they reached the chief.
They finally reached the interior palace doors which were guarded by another group of warriors. Tlaloc spoke to the one in charge and he opened the gate for the group to go inside, away from the rioting crowd. Once the doors were shut, Harry removed the Bubble Shield and waved his hand to clean up the warriors who had been covered in rotting fruit.
“Well, that was fun,” Stephen said dryly in English. To Tlaloc he said in Nahuatl, “Thank you for the escort, friend.”
“I apologize for the people, Prince,” Tlaloc said with an obedient yet arrogant bow. “They do not yet understand your power. I will see that word is spread that you are here to help, not cause more problems.”
Harry bowed back, making sure that his bow was not lower than Tlaloc’s. “Thank you, Tlaloc. I would greatly appreciate that. I also need to see the most skilled teopati you have available.”
“That will not be a problem,” Tlaloc answered grimly. “He is being housed close by to treat Chief Tecuhtl day and night. I will inform him that you wish to consult with him concerning your companion.”
He turned to leave, but Harry stopped him with a hand on his shoulder. “Just so you know, Tlaloc. She is more than my companion — she is the other half of my soul. We share a connection so deep that the heavens have foretold of its power and rejoice in it. I trust you to see that she gets the care of someone of my status since, technically, she is your Princess. The man with the red hair is her brother, my brother-in-law, and the woman with us is his future wife, my soon to be sister-in-law. They are my closest friends. Please treat them with the same respect you would show me.”
The expression on his face changed as he looked down at Ginny. It was softer and full of compassion with a bit of reverence. “I will attend to this personally, my friend,” he assured Harry.
“If you do not mind,” Stephen said, “I’d like to accompany you. I have a matter I’d like to discuss with you in private.”
“Very well.” He turned to one of his men. “See that the others are made comfortable until my return. I will inform the chief and his council members that you are here.” He glanced at Harry meaningfully as he said, “I am also certain that my wife and her brother will want to greet our guests, so please find them and pass on the good news that our Prince has returned.”
Harry grinned. “Congratulations.”
He bowed in response and then was gone.
Harry turned to Ron and Hermione. “Did you do the spell?” he asked in English.
Hermione nodded. “I caught that entire last bit. Did you, Ron?”
He nodded too. “Crystal clear. Thanks for sticking up for us Harry.”
“You’d do the same for me,” he replied.
“So his wife… is she the one they wanted you to marry?” Hermione asked.
“I am,” a voice said from behind them. They spun around to see Masaya, her long dark hair braided hair hanging over one shoulder, dressed in a simple but elegant sarong. She looked a bit paler than she had last summer but no less beautiful, and she was pregnant.
“I suppose I should congratulate you as well,” Harry told her in English with a smile. “You and Tlaloc wasted no time I see.”
“Thanks to you,” she said with a bow. “It was your gift that made it possible.” She turned to Hermione and extended her hand. “I am called Masaya. It is a pleasure to meet you.”
Hermione returned her handshake. “And you as well,” she said politely.
Masaya looked her up and down critically much in the same way Tlaloc had done Harry. She seemed to be searching out every flaw, comparing her beauty to Hermione’s. “You are very beautiful,” she said in a resigned voice. “I see now why our Prince was distracted.”
Hermione blushed at the compliment but shook her head vigorously. “No, no, no… Harry and I are not a couple. Ron is my boyfriend,” she said, pulling him to her.
Ron extended his hand politely. “I’m Ron Weasley. My sister, Ginny, is Harry’s girlfriend.”
Masaya ignored his outstretched hand and turned in the direction Ron had indicated. Her eyes widened when she saw Ginny laying pale and motionless on the portable. She looked up at Harry gravely. “Is she…?”
“No,” he said, frowning. He had forgotten how rude Masaya could be, and it seemed Ron and Hermione were both getting a dose of it from the haughty princess. “She was cursed by my enemy, the one you call Tezcatlipoca. He used an artefact that Xolotl took back to his employer, one of my enemy’s loyal followers. The Cochicoatl did this to her.”
“A most dangerous object,” she said with a sniff. “My father was glad to be rid of it.”
Harry’s temper flared. “That object hurt the woman I love.”
“That is not the fault of my father,” Masaya said coolly. “You should take that matter up with Xolotl. The Cochicoatl was given into his care.”
“Harry and I have already discussed my reasoning for letting it go,” Stephen’s voice rang out, taking them all by surprise. He had returned with Tlaloc and they weren’t alone. Another man was with them. His grey-white hair stood out against his dark skin and eyes. Although he looked ancient, his body still appeared sturdy — he was not stooped like some old men, but stood straight shouldered and tall, dressed in the garb of the island priests and healers. “We are here to fix the results of my mistake and cure the girl,” Stephen continued. “In exchange for your people’s help in this matter, we will see that the Evil is banished from your island.”
“How can you do that?” she said doubtfully. “Do you think we haven’t tried everything? Our priests and elders have been searching every ancient text we have to find a solution. So far they have failed. My father lies dying from one of those failed attempts.”
Harry switched to Nahuatl as he said, “They failed because I am the solution, and I do not reside in the ancient texts.”
She turned a questioning gaze on him.
“It is true,” Tlaloc told her. “Even now he is keeping the Darkness at bay. My warriors and I have seen with our own eyes the power of Quetzalcoatl. Our Prince has harness the Darkness around the Temple and is holding it back. He promises to rid us of this Evil if we help him lift the curse of the Cochicoatl from the woman.”
“Citlali is here to examine Ginny,” Stephen told Harry. “I’ve already explained what happened, and he understands about the hatchling — although he has never heard of such a thing before. He’s agreed to take a look at her and see what he can do.”
“Do you think you can help her?” he asked the teopati.
“I will do my best,” he answered hesitantly. “But the antidote is difficult to make and it requires a sacrifice on the part of the enemy in the form of blood in order for it to take effect.”
Harry nodded. “My friend Macoa explained about the blood sacrifice, but she didn’t know exactly how much was required.”
He locked eyes with Harry. “By blood, we mean life. You exchange your life for hers.”
“What!?” Stephen exclaimed. Chuen, who had remained silent the entire time they had been inside the inner chambers of the chief’s quarters, cried out as well.
Harry looked down at Ginny, knowing that he couldn’t let her die. If he had to sacrifice his life to save hers, then so be it.
“I’ll do it,” he said firmly. “Just tell me what I have to do. I won’t let her die, not when she has a chance to live. My life would be worthless without her anyway.”
“Harry, you can’t do this,” Stephen said desperately. “I won’t let you. You’re too important to the cause… too many people are relying on you. Think about it… Who’s going to fight Voldemort if you do this?”
Harry hesitated because Stephen had a point. Still, he knew in his heart that his decision wasn’t up for debate. “She’ll do it,” he said confidently. “And you will, Stephen. And Ron, Hermione, Dumbledore — you’ll all fight him, and keep fighting him. He can’t win in the face of such loyalty and I’ll never be truly gone so long as she lives. We’re connected forever, even unto death.”
He looked over at his friends who seemed to be trying desperately to hold back their protests. He knew they had understood every word of what had just taken place but didn’t want the Mixtecs to realize they’d heard. He was glad they were keeping their silence for now, but he knew he’d hear an earful later.
“If you’re connection is so strong then let her go, Harry,” Stephen begged. “You can’t throw your life away like this — it won’t help Ginny in the long run. You didn’t see what she was like while you were gone. She was a shell of a person, barely able to function. She won’t be able to make it without you.”
“She’s strong,” he said stubbornly. “She’ll be okay.” He turned back to Citlali. “Get everything ready. I’ll deal with the Darkness outside first, then I’ll be back to take care of curing Ginny.”
He nodded solemnly. “I will see to it, Prince.”
“I promised Tlaloc I’d see Tecuhtl,” he told Masaya. “I’d like to do that before I go.”
She nodded. “I will go see that he is prepared for visitors.” Turning, she disappeared into the back recesses of her father’s chambers.
The moment she had gone and the others drifted away out of earshot Ron and Hermione exploded.
“You can’t do this, Harry,” Hermione pleaded. “It isn’t right.”
“Ginny wouldn’t want this, mate,” Ron agreed.
“Trust me on this,” he told them. “I know it’s what I have to do.”
“I don’t like it,” Hermione said, tears coming to her eyes. “After everything we’ve been through, it can’t end this way.”
“A wise man once told me that death is just the next great adventure,” Harry said quietly. “Life doesn’t end here… I’ve talked to my parents and Sirius. I have to believe that it’ll all turn out right in the end.”
“I still say that Ginny is going to kill us if we let you do this,” Ron insisted. “She’ll never forgive us. Never.”
“She’ll understand,” Harry said confidently. “She’d do the same for me.”
“But she wouldn’t want you doing it for her,” Ron countered. “She knows how important you are to ending the war.”
“Voldemort’s coming here, Ron,” Harry told him. “Everything the prophecy has said about me and him has come true. It says that ‘the child of Lightning and Thunder’ — that’s me, right?” he asked. Hermione nodded. “Then it says I’ll ‘restore hope to the people’, and they will in turn ‘save my soul’. My soul is Ginny.”
“So where does V-Voldemort fit in?” Ron asked, stumbling over the name but managing to get it out.
“The prophecy goes on to say ‘at that time, the Chosen will fight the Evil One in the Eye of Heaven and Hell for control of the world’. It doesn’t say I will do it… just ‘the Chosen’. That doesn’t necessarily mean me, does it?”
Stephen, who had been listening to the entire conversation jumped in, excitedly. “Is also says that ‘Ehecailacozcatl will live again,’ correct? You carry Ehecailacozcatl on your chest.” They’re eyes all roamed to the tattoo that was barely visible under his half opened shirt.
“That’s true,” Harry admitted. “I had forgotten about that part.”
“What about the other prophecy?” Hermione asked Stephen. “How does that fit in, do you think?”
“What other prophecy?” Harry asked.
She dug around in her pocket and produced another scroll. “We worked out the first bits which have already taken place. But it’s the last part that’s always puzzled me.” She opened the scroll and read. “To save his soul he will return to the Temple of the Gods, bringing the Serpent with him. There the final battle will take place. A sacrifice will be made, a spell will be cast, and the Serpent shall be defeated.”
“See, I was right.” Harry said with satisfaction. “Voldemort is coming. I feel it. And it says that he will be defeated, but it doesn’t say how. It doesn’t specifically say that I’ll be the one to do it.”
“So long as V-Voldemort is the Serpent the prophecy is speaking of…” Hermione pointed out.
“He is,” Harry said confidently. “Trust me, he is.”
“But you’re the one with the ‘power to vanquish the Dark Lord,’ remember?” Stephen said. “That’s what started this whole mess. It’s why my son was targeted and murdered, why your parents were killed… You alone have that power.”
Harry looked at Stephen, unflinching. “Sometimes you have to draw a hard line and do the right thing, even if it isn’t the easiest choice. Isn’t that right, Stephen?”
He didn’t answer.
“Nothing you’ve said has convinced me that I’m making the wrong decision. It says I’ll save the island from this Darkness, and I will. It says I have the power to defeat him, but it never says that we’ll have fight to the death in order for me to do it. I have his Horcrux inside me and I have to get rid of it before he can be killed. If I sacrifice myself to save Ginny, then that paves the way for someone else to finish him. That’ll be your job, Stephen. You have more right than anyone to kill the bastard. And I’ll be rooting you on the whole way from wherever I am.”
Hermione was crying openly now and so was Chuen. Even Ron and Stephen had suspicious moistness behind their eyelids.
“No,” Hermione said, stamping her foot and sniffling angrily. “I can’t accept this. I won’t.”
“You will,” Harry assured her. “In time you’ll know it was the right decision.”
“My father will see you now, Prince,” Masaya called from the doorway.
“I’ll be right there,” he called back. He squeezed Hermione’s hand. “I have to go. Take care of the others while I’m gone. You’ve always been the sensible one, ‘Mione. Just think about what I said, okay?”
She nodded dumbly.
“Stay here with Ginny, Ron, and Chuen,” he instructed. “I need Stephen to come with me in case I need some backup since he knows this land better than I do. I plan to leave as soon as I see Tecuhtl and we’ll probably be Apparating. As soon as we can, we’ll be back. I’ll tell Masaya and Tlaloc to make you comfortable until then.”
She didn’t say anything as he turned and followed Masaya, Stephen trailing behind. She didn’t try to stop him, either. As he reached the door, however, Ron called out.
“Harry,” he said in a strangled voice. “You… you’re the best friend I’ve ever had. …Be careful out there, mate.”
He looked back at his first and oldest friend, choked with emotion. “I will. Thanks, Ron, for everything.”
Turning away, Harry walked through the open door, Stephen right behind him. He didn’t look back — it was time to face Destiny, and they all knew it.
Chapter 33: Taming the Darkness
Disclaimer: The characters and situations of Harry Potter depicted in this story are the legal property of J.K. Rowling, Bloomsbury, and AOL Time Warner, and have been used without permission. No copyright infringement is intended.No profit is being made off this story. It is for entertainment purposes only.
“Taming the Darkness”
The meeting with Tecuhtl went quickly. The old chief was barely able to speak, but he did manage to express his gratitude that they had come. His condition, brought on by a failed attempt to rid the island of the curse, was worsening every day and he wasn’t expected to live the week.
Tecuhtl’s family, who was gathered around him solemnly, didn’t say much. Masaya was unusually quiet and withdrawn while in the presence of her dying father. Chac greeted Harry and Stephen warmly but his face was sad. Tecuhtl’s wife, Xian, refused to even look at them, instead keeping her eyes focused on her husband. Tlaloc was there as well but he kept his features neutral.
When they were finished Harry and Stephen Apparated to the Upper Atrium of the Temple where they had entered not long before.
“Are you certain about this?” Stephen asked Harry apprehensively.
“I’m certain,” Harry answered, adjusting Macoa on his neck into a more comfortable position.
“So, what’s the plan?”
“First I’m going to create a path to the Tree,” he explained. “Then I’m going to try to bind the dark magic by creating a kind of shield around it, then shrinking it to a more manageable size.” He shrugged. “After that, I suppose we’ll see.”
“That’s not much of a plan,” Stephen remarked dryly.
“It’s the best I’ve got,” he retorted. “Got any better ideas?”
“Not really,” Stephen answered, shaking his head. “But why do you need my help? It sounds as if this is something only you can do.”
“True,” he answered with a lopsided grin, “but if I find myself in trouble I may need someone to Apparate me out of there. You do that pretty well.”
Stephen laughed. “I suppose I do. Well, let’s get on with it, then.” He pushed open the doors. “After you, Prince,” he said sarcastically. “Just don’t ask me to save the snake.”
“Funny,” Harry said with a smirk as Macoa hissed threateningly at Stephen.
“What’d it say?”
“She says to watch her fangs,” Harry answered with a laugh. “She might accidentally decide to bite you.”
“She wouldn’t.”
In response Macoa hissed at him again and Harry interpreted. “She says you may be the most obnoxious human she’s ever met.”
Stephen actually looked affronted at this comment. “Bloody snake,” he said with a sniff.
Harry shrugged again. “You asked.”
Outside the Temple the air was still and calm, but just beyond the boundaries of Harry’s barrier it whipped and howled fiercely, trying to destroy the wall that he had created with his wind elements. It was close to five in the morning now, almost time for sunrise, but the sky around the temple was still black as midnight. Up above the stars twinkled and the moon shone brightly, but dawn was just beginning to make its first sleepy appearance.
Stephen looked at the black cloud critically, the wheels seeming to turn in his mind.
“What destroys darkness?” he asked Harry thoughtfully in his teacher-voice.
Harry thought for a moment before answering. “Light,” he said finally.
“And how do you create light?”
Harry’s eyes widened. “Fire.”
“Exactly,” Stephen said triumphantly.
“I can’t very well set fire to the whole island,” he said, looking out.
“No, that’s not what I had in mind,” Stephen explained. “But think, Harry… what burns?”
Harry’s eyes lit up in understanding. “Wood… trees. Specifically, one tree in particular. But I can’t destroy the Tree of Life,” he said, horrified.
“Why not?”
“Because… it’s sacred,” Harry answered. “The people here believe it’s the centre of their universe and one of the most holy spots on earth.”
“True,” Stephen admitted. “But think of all those souls taken by the Imachi. If you believe the mythology, then their souls are trapped beneath that tree. If we destroy it, those souls could potentially be set free.”
“Potentially,” Harry reminded him. “We don’t know that absolutely. Can’t you think of another way?”
“The only other way I know of to control something totally is by invoking its true name,” he said offhandedly. “But…”
“That’s it!” Harry said excitedly. “I remember!”
Stephen looked at him like he had suddenly gone mad. “What’s it?”
“I can invoke its true name,” he answered. “Then I’ll be able to control it.”
“Even if you knew its true name, Harry, there’s still the problem of destroying it,” Stephen said doubtfully. “Having control over something and destroying it are two different things.” He looked at him sharply. “Do you even know its true name?”
Harry opened his mouth to say it but the words eluded him. It was right there on the tip of his consciousness, but for the life of him he couldn’t remember. “It’ll come to me,” he sighed in frustration.
“Well, you’d better start thinking fast because we don’t have a lot of time to waste.”
“I know,” Harry agreed. “Let’s get started, then. Which direction is the tree?” he asked, looking around.
“East,” Stephen said, holding his wand in his hand and using the Point Me charm. “That’s over this way,” he said, walking to the other side of the temple. Harry followed him, looking out over the expanse of the island covered in thick vegetation and jungle.
“I’m going to make a path that way,” he told Stephen, pointing towards the centre of the island. “As soon as it’s cleared we’ll Apparate to the edge of the village inside the path, and then start walking.”
“Sounds good,” Stephen said, “so long as we don’t miss and end up on the other side of the wall.”
“So don’t miss,” Harry said seriously. “But if anything does go wrong, just get back here as quickly as you can.” He took a deep breath. “Well, here goes nothing…”
Holding out his palm, he imagined a path forming in that direction; its sole purpose was to clear the area of the Darkness. Harry felt the magic building inside him until he thought he might burst from it. Exhaling, he released it, feeling its connection to him as it took off like a shot exploding from his hand. Swirling white wind rolled ahead of them and pushed away the black film that was covering the island, like a bulldozer clearing its way through the jungle. As before, the wind formed a barrier that blocked out the angry beast beyond, infuriating it further. It tried to attack the wall at every point, but Harry’s elements were too strong. The path was full of light, contrasting sharply with the surrounding Darkness. It let the sun break through in a straight line that extended as far as they could see.
“Too bad we couldn’t do that to the entire island,” Stephen commented.
“It would only push it away, not get rid of it,” Harry told him. “It’d still be out there, and the tiniest break in the shield would let it back in.”
“Let’s just hope that doesn’t happen here,” he said lightly. “Come on… let’s go.”
They Apparated to the designated spot and then checked their bearings.
“Are we going in the right direction?” Harry asked Macoa.
“Yess…” she answered, looking around. “Your magic found the Tree of Life and the Light will guide you to it. You didn’t need me after all.”
“Don’t say that yet,” Harry told her.
He turned to Stephen. “She says that the Tree of Life is straight ahead directly on this path. My magic found it and if we go straight we should run into it.”
“Let’s not waste time, then,” Stephen said, starting forward.
“We’d go faster if we were in our animagus forms,” Harry pointed out, eying him shrewdly.
“What makes you think I’m an animagus?” Stephen asked evasively.
“Just a hunch.” His smile was like that of the Cheshire cat in Alice’s Wonderland.
“I hate it when you do that,” Stephen grumbled, scratching his head. “Okay, I agree. It would be faster, but what about the snake? How’s she going to get there?”
“I know just the form to take,” Harry told him. “I’ll fly on ahead and you can catch up.” Before Stephen could respond, Harry had turned into a large eagle and had scooped Macoa up gently in his talons. She wasn’t pleased about it one little bit, however, and let him know about it, but he ignored her as he enjoyed the familiar sensation of flying. He spread his wings and glided as his sharp eagle eyes sought out the lithe jaguar making its way through the jungle, moving easily through the dense undergrowth. They travelled this way for a few kilometres until they spotted what they were looking for — a huge tree that stood taller than any of the others, jutting out of the jungle and into the sunlight, its leaves spread majestically around it.
Harry swooped down in front of the jaguar and changed forms, watching in fascination as Stephen did the same. “That’s the perfect form for you,” he said in appreciation. “When did you learn?”
Stephen shrugged. “Just something I studied in my spare time,” he said. “I always like a new challenge. I didn’t complete the process until I came here, though. And I never planned to go back to Britain, so I haven’t registered. I thought about it this past year, but then I decided that what the Ministry doesn’t know won’t hurt them — or me, for that matter — so I kept it to myself.”
“Probably for the best,” Harry agreed.
“So, now what?”
“Now it’s time to call the Darkness home.”
He turned and walked towards the tree, Macoa once again draped around his neck. Stephen followed him silently, looking all around him at the white walls of wind holding back the snapping, howling monster and then back at Harry who had come to a stop in front of the massive tree.
“There’s a hole in it,” Harry commented, studying the tree critically.
“I don’t see a hole,” Stephen said, narrowing his eyes.
Harry pointed to the base of the tree. “Just there, past that knot. It’s covered by an enchantment, but if you focus properly you can see the threads of magic concealing it.”
Stephen cocked his head a stared, comprehension dawning on his face. “I see it now. Very subtle, but strong magic. That’s amazing! I always thought the legends were just that — legend. Nothing more than myth and fanciful storytelling. But if this truly in the Tree of Life in the Popol Vuh scriptures, then that is the gateway to the Underworld.”
Harry thought about his options, then, coming to a conclusion, he told Stephen, “Stand over there out of the way. I’m going to break through that barrier and hope that there’s nothing left to come out of it. If I’m lucky, then I’ll make a fissure in the wall close to the tree and force it back into that hole.”
“What if you can’t control it?” Stephen asked worriedly.
“I have to,” Harry answered. “There is no back-up plan. It’s either this or nothing.”
Stephen sighed and stepped back, letting him do what he needed to do.
Harry reached for his wand with unsteady fingers and pointed it at the opening, closing his eyes and searching his mind for the right spell. Magic descended from the branches of the tree, searching him out and swirling around him in every colour of the rainbow. He was connected to it and it was connected to him. He felt it vibrating with magic, both light and dark… just like the earth was made up of these same counter elements. It was powerful magic and it filled him with knowledge. And then it came to him, crystal clear, is if a light had turned on inside his brain illuminating memories that had been lost to him.
His eyes flew open. “Aelea Varinea Hasuume,” he commanded in an ancient language of which he had no knowledge, yet knew as if it was a part of him. He didn’t need to question how he knew it — the words came from the deepest part of his mind, the part that contained memories long since forgotten. It was the true name of the Tree, and the Tree had no choice but to obey.
As he knew it would, the door to the Underworld opened revealing inky blackness and an unearthly scream rent the air, sending shivers down his spine. It was the sound of thousands of voices combined into one, communicating their torment — a kind of horrible song full of pain and misery. Beyond the barrier the wind howled its recognition and picked up intensity. It was like a gale wind, ten times worse than a typhoon; the trees nearly doubled with the force of it.
Raising his other hand, he pointed to the wall and ripped a small tear in it. Like a sieve, black smoke poured into the area heading straight for him. He put his hand in front of him palm out, aware that the tattoo on his chest was hot and expelling green light.
“Aelea Undelae Satuum!” he commanded in a loud voice.
The smoke stopped directly in front of him as if frozen. They stared at each other, master and slave. This was true power, Harry knew. He could command it to do anything — nothing was beyond his reach. If he chose to do it, he could send this being out into the world and no one, not even Voldemort, could stop him. It was frightening what power he held in his hand, but he was not tempted in the least to use it. The thing in front of him was full of hatred and anger. It despised him, even as it was forced to do his bidding and Harry was repulsed by it.
“Leave this place! Go back to your kingdom and never return,” he told it. “But before you go, release those souls you have stolen.”
It growled in fury but turned and snaked towards the base of the tree which drew it in like a vacuum, slowly emptying the island of its presence. The air around them became lighter as the Darkness left and the temperature increased as the sun found its way through. When the last of it had finally filtered away and disappeared there was silence for a moment, then a rushing sound like the whistle of a locomotive emanated from deep under the ground. Under their feet the earth shook, almost knocking both Stephen and Harry off their feet, and then the hole in the tree exploded, expelling what looked like tiny sparks that filled the air with a beautiful shower of light like falling snow. From above the tree came an ethereal sound, like phoenix song. It attracted the sparkling lights, and both Harry and Stephen watched in wonder as they floated up into the sky towards the blazing sun.
“Light… Fire,” Stephen said quietly. “It does destroy the Darkness.”
“What?” Harry, asked, looking at him.
“Their souls will be tempered in the fire of the sun,” he said. “It’s an old prophecy I came across once when I was studying the scriptures of the Ancient Ones. I always thought it was beautiful, but I never expected it to be real.” He quoted some more, “Whatever evil that still clings to them will be destroyed, and they will be purified by the Light.”
“Speaking of which, I only have one more thing to do,” Harry said. He pointed his wand at the opening and created a ring of fire around the tree… a blazing flame of light that did not burn. “That should discourage any stray Imachi from coming out,” he explained. “I only have control over the being that was here, but there are most likely others down there. This way they’ll be confined to the Underworld where they belong.”
“You have done a good thing Princce,” Macoa said. “The Ancient Ones are pleased that you finally remembered.” Her voice was light and teasing, surprising him. Macoa was usually very serious and to hear her practically joking was unnerving.
“Thanks, I think…” he said awkwardly.
“My job is complete,” she told him sadly. “I have done all I can to help you. You now have all that you need to finish this task and fulfil your Destiny, my Princce. It iss time for me to return to my home.”
“But you can’t leave,” Harry said, panicked. “I need you to advise me… to help me. It’s not over yet.”
“You are misstaken… you do not need me, Princce,” she said serenely. “You know what you have to do. Now it is up to you to do it.” She looked up at the tree. “My placce iss here. My job iss to keep watch over the gateway and never let thiss happen again. I will keep your magic powered as long as it iss necessary.”
“Will I ever see you again?”he asked.
She bowed her head, “You always know where to find me.”
He set her on the ground and she slithered through the fire and up the tree, disappearing into the foliage.
“She’s gone,” Harry said sadly.
Stephen sighed, “It’s for the best, Harry. This is where she belongs. I may not like snakes much, but I’m smart enough to see that she wasn’t the average variety. She really did care about you.”
“I care about her, too,” he said. Turning to Stephen he asked, “You will do it, won’t you?”
“Do what?”
“Be the one to kill Voldemort,” he told him. “If I can’t do it, then it’s got to be you.”
Stephen looked doubtful. “You know there’s nothing I want more, but I still think that it’s got to be you. This thing you’re planning on doing… it’s not right, Harry. You’re not meant to die this way.”
“What better way to die?” he said. “I’d give my life in an instant to save hers, as I would for anyone I care about. But this is Ginny we’re talking about. She was willing to die to save my life, the least I can do is the same.”
“I know you would,” Stephen admitted.
“The truth is that I’m tired,” he said quietly, looking away. “I’ve been fighting for so long that it’s sort of a relief to think I won’t have to fight much longer.”
“But that’s who you are, Harry,” Stephen said. “You’re the strongest person I know. Most people would have already given up by now but not you… you keep fighting and you win. This isn’t any different.”
“What if I told you that’s not me?” he said, the emotion rolling through his stomach. “I learned something about myself this year. I found something… something beautiful and right and true, then I thought I had lost that forever. My entire world came crashing down around me and suddenly I didn’t want to fight any longer. It wasn’t worth it.”
“Bollocks!” Stephen roared. “You may pull that shite on other people, but not on me. I lost the people I loved, remember? And I didn’t give up. There were many nights I wanted nothing more than to point my wand at myself and utter that curse. You have to mean it Harry… has anyone ever told you that? You have to mean to kill, and I could have done it. I could have ended it, but I didn’t and do you want to know why? Because she wouldn’t have wanted me to do it.” His words lashed out at Harry, but his eyes were moist and compassionate. “Ginny wouldn’t want you to do this either.”
“Maybe not,” Harry agreed, “but this is my choice. Nothing you say can change my mind. I watched her die once, Stephen, and I’ll not do it again. Not when I have a chance to save her.” He spun away and Disapparated with a solid ‘pop’ away from the one person who might be able to change his mind. Nothing and no one could dissuade him from doing this for her. His life would be worthless without her in it anyway.
The sun was shining brightly all over the island as he appeared on top of the temple. Thankfully the air was losing its frigid chill. He was just entering the temple when Stephen caught up with him.
“We’re not finished talking about this,” he told Harry roughly, jerking his arm and forcing him to stop.
Suddenly Tlaloc, Masaya, Chuen, Chac, Ron, and Hermione were there and Harry jerked away from him as Hermione flung herself in his arms.
“You did it,” she squealed. “You really did it. I’m so proud of you, Harry!”
Harry disentangled himself from her grasp and accepted a brotherly hug from Ron. “Good show, mate,” he said grinning. “Knew you could do it.”
“That makes one of us,” he shot back with a weary smile. “Glad I could pull it off. Where’s Ginny? Is she somewhere safe?”
“We left her in the care of the healer,” Hermione said quietly. “She’s being prepared for the ceremony.”
Harry nodded.
Tlaloc stepped up to him and said in Nahuatl, “Once again you have proven your greatness, My Prince. Our people will sing songs of you for generations to come.”
Masaya bowed low, her eyes moist. “My family owes you a great debt. My father’s health is improving now that the curse has been lifted. It will take time but the healers are confident he will eventually recover.”
“Father has instructed us to give you whatever you need,” Chac added. “Our island is now yours.”
“I need nothing but the service of your teopati,” Harry said heavily. “The sooner we accomplish what we came here for, the better.”
“You have not changed your mind, then?” Masaya said in surprise.
“Why would I?” Harry answered her, glancing at Stephen out of the corner of his eye.
Masaya seemed flustered for a moment, uncertain if she should say the truth.
“Speak your mind,” Harry said easily. “You won’t change mine.”
“It seems a waste that one so great would give up his life to save a woman,” she said in confusion.
Harry was amused to see Hermione bristle and he was glad it had been Masaya who said it and not Tlaloc or another man. “Either way, half of my soul dies,” Harry told her. “Ginny and I are one — every minute without her is torture. Part of me feels I am actually taking the coward’s way out. I choose to end my own suffering and let her live, but she will be left behind with the knowledge of what it’s like to lose half of her soul. I’m hoping that in time she can learn to forget me, even if one of you has to do a memory charm on her. She can go back to how it was before, and perhaps have a chance at a normal life — something I would never be able to give her.”
“I know my sister, Harry,” Ron said angrily, “and once she finds out what you’ve done she’ll likely go mad. You may be condemning her to life of insanity.”
Masaya cast him a curious look. “You understand our language?”
Harry swore inwardly. Ron reddened and he supposed it had just occurred to him that neither he nor Hermione was supposed to understand the Nahuatl speech. “We cast a spell on them earlier so they could understand,” he told Masaya in English, “but they can’t speak it. It just made it easier on Stephen and me so we didn’t have to translate all the time.”
“Very clever,” she said back in English. “But what your brother says is true. Your Ginny will not survive long in this world without you.”
“Then we both die,” he said angrily. “At least I will have tried. Trust me, this is the only way.” He stomped off away from them in search of the teopati to get a run down of what was expected of him and how they would proceed.
***
Some time later that evening they were ready to begin the ceremony.
“You understand what you have to do?” Citlali asked as three other priests fussed over Ginny. “Are you prepared?”
“Yes,” Harry answered, “I’m ready.”
He was glad the others weren’t around to see this. He had taken the time to write each of them a letter and said his tearful good-byes, but he refused to let any of them in the room while he did this, so Ron and Hermione were standing by in an adjacent room to welcome Ginny back when it was over. Stephen had refused to accept his decision at all and had gone off somewhere in a rage. Harry had given Stephen’s letter to his friends for safekeeping knowing that at some point Stephen would want to read it.
The hardest letter to write had been to Ginny. How was he to put something like this in a letter? How could he possibly explain how much she meant to him… how deeply he felt for her? It was a fruitless task but he did the best he could.
Ginny was laid out on a dais in the same chamber where Harry had been taken the first night he had come to the temple last summer when he was been given the power of Ehecailacozcatl. The dais was the same platform he had ridden down to the chamber on and the same statues stared at him soundlessly, as if judging him for the act he was about to perform. The dais was just big enough for both of them to lie prone on, side by side, with their heads facing opposite so their bodies were even but their legs stuck out at the end. Harry bent his elbow and held Ginny’s hand aloft with his, interlocking their arms and gripping her limp hand tightly, knowing that it might be the last time he’d ever be this close to her. His heart ached at the thought. He hoped with all his might that he wasn’t making a mistake and that she would be able to live on without him, but he couldn’t get over the fact that this felt right… it was the right thing to do.
Citlali tied a cord around their interwoven hand, binding them together, saying a prayer as he did this.
“May the Gods bear witness to this selfless act and protect your soul,” he said as he sprinkled some kind of sweet-smelling herbal mixture over them.
Then he touched the top of their hands with his own and cast a spell that shot through Harry like a bullet. He tried to bite back the scream but failed as the pain shot through him. Citlali had warned him about this. In order to awaken Ginny they both had to go through great pain. Then the chasm between them would be opened and the poison would slowly flow out of Ginny’s body and into his.
As the pain subsided, Harry began to feel the effects of the poison on his body. His eyelids grew heavy and his breathing ragged, but something else became apparent, too — something he hadn’t felt in far too long. It was Ginny’s soul filling his body, taking up residence in the parts that it had been missing from. The feeling was similar to being submerged in a bath of warm water, soothing and light. It washed over him and chased out the pain, allowing him to give into it easily. If this was dying, then he’d gladly do it. It felt like every good feeling he’d ever had all rolled into one… like coming home. Willingly, he gave into the magic.
‘There you are,’ a familiar voice said. ‘I’ve been calling for you. Where have you been?’
Harry smiled. ‘I’ve been right here all along. It’s you who has been gone.’
Ginny laughed. ‘I knew you’d find a way to fix this... Harry Potter,’ she teased, ‘my hero.’
‘I’ll always come for you, Ginny,’ he said seriously.
He felt her emotion — intense love and gratitude mixed with desire. ‘I know.’
‘I can’t stay, though,’ he said sadly. ‘Soon the poison will transfer to my body. I… it’s time to say good-bye.’
Ginny emotions changed abruptly. ‘WHAT did you do?’ When Harry didn’t answer right away she grew even more agitated. ‘TELL ME!’
He winced, hating that their last minutes together would be marred by anger. ‘Please forgive me, Ginny. I couldn’t watch you die. It was beyond me to do it. You’d do the same for me, you know.’
‘You’re damn right I would,’ Ginny said resolutely. ‘That’s why I can’t let you do this, Harry. You have to stop it.’
‘I can’t stop it,’ he insisted. ‘It’s too late.’
‘It’s never too late,’ she said vehemently.
And then he felt her fight back. It was like a sucker punch to his gut and he groaned in pain. She was using her magic to suck the poison back into her body. Panicked, he fought back until they were locked in a desperate tug-of-war battle with each other — a clash of souls to the death, each trying to take the poison away from the other.
‘Don’t do this, Ginny,’ Harry told her as he pulled with all his might. Just when he thought he was making progress she pulled back again.
‘They need you, Harry,’ she insisted. ‘You need to know when to cut your losses and give up. They need you, not me.’
‘My life is worthless without you.’
‘That’s Bollocks and you know it,’ she growled. ‘You’re afraid.’
‘I’m not afraid,’ he said, ignoring the tiny niggling of doubt she was forming in his mind. ‘…I don’t know what you’re talking about.’
‘Liar,’ she yelled angrily inside his mind. ‘You’re afraid you’re not strong enough to beat him. You’re afraid that when it’s all said and done you’ll lose.’
‘He beat me before, Ginny,’ he said hating the whine he heard in his voice. ‘You saw what he did… he used my love for you against me and I did terrible things. I committed murder! You have no idea the things I’ve done.’
‘That wasn’t you, Harry, that was Tom,’ she insisted. ‘You never would have done those things if he hadn’t been controlling you. It’s no different than what he did to me with the diary.’
‘I should have resisted…’
‘And I should have, too,’ she countered. ‘Now I’m stuck with a piece of him inside me, just like you’
Her words shocked him. ‘You know about the Horcruxes?’
‘Horcruxes?’ she asked in confusion. ‘What are Horcruxes?’
‘They’re pieces of Voldemort’s soul split seven ways,’ he explained. ‘He deliberately put six parts of his soul into six things, or tried to. My death was supposed to make the last one but it backfired and the piece ended up inside of me by mistake. Don’t you see, Ginny? If I die now then I’ll have paved the way for his destruction. All the others were destroyed. After I’m gone he can be destroyed.’
‘What about the piece that’s in me?’ she asked. ‘If I live then so will it. The part that was in the diary — at least some of it — was transferred to me. So if what you say is true then your death will be for nothing.’
He paused, considering her words.
‘Face it, Harry… if either one of us survives then so does that piece of Voldemort that’s inside us. Neither of us can live — we both have to die in order to save the others, or at the very least destroy that part of him that’s inside us. It’s their only chance.’
‘I love you, Ginny,’ he said with every fibre of his being.
‘I love you, too, Harry,’ she said back just as desperately and full of emotion.
‘We’ll stay together then,’ he decided, ‘and see this through. We’ll hold on to each other and no matter what, we won’t let go. Either we both go or we both stay. Agreed?’
‘No one is taking me away from you,’ she said defiantly.
Harry could feel the power of their love building up inside him binding them together, and he knew Ginny felt the same.
‘What’s happening to us?’ he asked in awe as their bodies were bathed in a green glow that radiated from the inside out. Something was happening and it wasn’t him doing it.
‘I don’t know,’ Ginny said just as perplexed.
***
Stephen couldn’t take it anymore… he had to stop Harry from doing this terrible thing. It was wrong… all wrong. The boy wasn’t supposed to die like this. Too many people had sacrificed — had been sacrificed — to save him. Stephen knew Harry loved Ginny more than life, but it was Harry who had to face Voldemort, Harry who had to defeat him.
He strode down the halls of the temple, headed for the sacred interior where only the priests were allowed stunning anyone who got in his path. Even if he had to take him far away from here until the seven days were over and Ginny was truly gone he’d do it. Harry might hate him for it, but in the long run he’d realise it was the right choice — so long as the kid didn’t kill him first.
Just as he reached the doors they were blown off their hinges from the power of a green wave of magic.
“What the-” he cried, as he at once shielded his eyes from the blinding light and drew his wand with the other hand, fighting against the current to enter the sacred room of the Ancient Ones.
As his eyes adjusted to the brightness he was able to see Citlali crumpled against the wall out cold, as were three other teopati who had come to observe the ceremony. The four statues that represented the original four Ancient Ones who had created the island were glowing, emitting white beams of light from their eyes and open mouths. He looked around and his breath hitched in his throat. Harry and Ginny lay on the platform in the middle of the room, their left hands bound together. A feeling washed over him… a vaguely familiar feeling that he hadn’t experienced in a long time. The couple was surrounded by green light that seemed to flow through them and out. The closer he got to them the more he was certain that what he was feeling was love. He had a sudden, intense longing for Mariah and almost wept at the impossibility of it. The spot where their hands met was the most brilliant white made up of the most beautiful pure light Stephen had ever seen. It was from this that the wave of power and the feeling was originating.
He made to approach the couple but was stopped cold by a loud warning.
“STAY WHERE YOU ARE.”
“What’s happening to them?” he asked the voice that seemed to come from nowhere and everywhere at the same time.
“Professor Hunter!” Hermione yelled from the other side of the room where she and Ron peered out fearfully from the door of an adjacent room.
“STAY WHERE YOU ARE! WATCH AND SEE THE GREATEST POWER IN THE UNIVERSE!” the voice boomed. “BEAR WITNESS TO THE POWER OF QUETZALCOATL.”
The eyes of the statues continued their ethereal glow as they also bore witness to the thing that was happening in the centre of the room. Both Harry and Ginny’s back arched, but their hands stayed locked together and they remained unconscious.
Citlali stirred and opened his eyes with a groan, as did the other priests. From behind him Tlaloc and Masaya rushed into the room, stopping abruptly at the sight.
“What’s happening?” Masaya asked fearfully.
“We saw the light explode from the top of the temple,” Tlaloc explained stiffly. “Not since the night when Our Prince returned to the Temple have we seen such a thing happen.” He turned to Citlali. “Can you explain what has happened teopati?”
“This is something I have never seen before,” Citlali said shakily. “This spell hasn’t been performed in centuries, but nothing I have ever read in the scrolls has ever described anything like this.”
He pointed to Ginny’s waist where the hatchling had encircled her, and Harry’s chest where the tattoo rested. Both were glowing white now. “They have the protection of the Gods,” he explained. Then he pointed to their hands locked together in blazing white light. “And they share a deep bond that is more than just typical love — they were willing to die for each other, and they share the same soul. This is very powerful magic that we are seeing. The universe is coming into alignment and the prophecies are about to be fulfilled. I do not think the world has ever seen such a thing before.” He dropped to his knees and the other priests followed suit.
Suddenly a red ribbon of light burst out from Harry’s scar. Ginny’s mouth opened and another red ribbon of light rose, merging with the one that had come from Harry and winding upward like a snake. It shot up with the green light and disappeared out the top of the temple. A burst of something like phoenix song filled the air, causing everyone watching to fall to their knees. When the red ribbon of magic had disappeared the room slowly came back to normal.
Stephen looked over to Harry as he stirred, then picked himself up and rushed to his side. Hermione and Ron did the same and rushed to Ginny’s side just as her eyelids fluttered open.
“Wh-what happened?” she asked in a sleepy voice. She seemed to realize that her hand was bound to something and looked over at Harry lying next to her. He was also coming around, groaning slightly.
“That’s what we want to know,” Ron said gently, brushing the red locks of hair away from his sister’s face. “Once again you and Harry defy the odds. Welcome home, little sister.”
She smiled at him. “Thanks, but it was Harry that did it.”
“Liar,” Harry said in a croaky voice. “We did it together. Well, most of it anyway. I don’t think that was all us.”
Hermione gasped. “Harry! Your scar… it’s gone!”
Harry reached up in surprise and felt his forehead. “What?”
His heart bursting with hope, Stephen stepped closer and examined it himself, then conjured a mirror. “She’s right, Harry. It’s gone. Just before you two woke up we saw two red ribbons of magic. One came out of your scar and the other from Ginny’s mouth. It wound its way upward and disappeared.”
To his surprise Harry didn’t look entirely pleased by this as he examined it, although he did seem somewhat relieved. “I’m glad it’s gone,” he explained, “but now that magic is back out into the world. It’ll only be given to another.”
“That is the price you paid for regaining your lives,” Citlali explained. “The universe has a balance, and one good has to be balanced by one evil. It is the way of life.”
“I know,” Harry said. He squeezed Ginny’s hand and sat up to look at her. She met him shakily in the middle. “We did it.”
She smiled tenderly making Stephen want to turn away and give them a moment of privacy; at the same time it was the most touching thing he had ever seen.
“I know,” she answered.
They met as one, not caring who saw. The kiss they shared was full of love and tenderness and promise.
“You’re amazing,” Harry told Ginny, grinning, as they pulled apart.
“You were right,” he explained to the others. “When she found out what I had done she refused to let me finish it. I don’t think even Voldemort could have resisted her. She tried to use her magic to pull the poison back and take it on herself.”
“But you wouldn’t let me,” Ginny said. “You were determined to take it all. When we realized that neither one of us was going to win we talked and Harry told me about the Horcruxes. I’ve always known since my experience with Riddle’s diary that something wasn’t right. Even Voldemort could see it that night when Harry came back to us from the Shadow. Harry thought that if he died then Voldemort would be mortal, but I reminded him that I carried a piece of him with me, too. So long as either of us lived, we’d never be able to kill him.”
“I think the curse got its blood sacrifice,” Harry said looking up. “Instead of taking our souls, it took the pieces of Voldemort’s soul as payment.”
“And the next sacrifice will be your blood, Potter,” a sinister voice hissed from behind them. “But first I think I’ll make your girlfriend and the others you care about suffer a bit while you watch.”
Stephen turned slowly, realizing that he should have expected this. In the doorway stood the snake surrounded by a horde of hooded Death Eaters; they rushed into the room with their wands drawn, surrounding them. Voldemort strode in behind them, his black robes billowing around him menacingly.
It seemed the forces of evil had come back to Tlilli Tlapalla in a different form, and they had them trapped.
[A/N: Okay folks, it’s all coming to a head now so hold on to your hat! Thanks to those readers who took the time to post reviews for that last chapter. I really do appreciate hearing the feedback. It’s hard to believe that it’s almost over after all this time, but I think I’ll make my goal of finishing it before Jo raps up the series with book seven… just barely. Thanks again to my wonderful beta Arnel who persevered through massive computer meltdowns to get that last chapter beta read and up for you. Please give the lady a round of applause! I’m hoping to update again in two weeks on March 2nd. Hopefully I’ll see you all back then (hint, hint). Please remember to review and let me know what you thought of this chapter.]
Chapter 34: Ehecailacozcatl Lives
Disclaimer: The characters and situations of Harry Potter depicted in this story are the legal property of J.K. Rowling, Bloomsbury, and AOL Time Warner, and have been used without permission. No copyright infringement is intended.No profit is being made off this story. It is for entertainment purposes only.
“Ehecailacozcatl Lives”
Harry felt Ginny’s fear as the Death Eaters surrounded them and tried to send reassurances back. They had come too far now to lose it all in the end, and he’d be damned if he let the monster hurt any more of the people he cared about. Voldemort would have to kill him first. He drew upon the magic of the island and wordlessly cast the strongest shield spell around them that he could muster. It would protect them from almost everything but the unblockable spells like the Killing Curse and the Cruciatus.
Stephen didn’t seem a bit surprised to see the enemy at their doorstep, and Harry had to wonder about that. He’d never gotten an explanation about that note Dumbledore had sent Stephen through Snape, and it had been in the back of his mind ever since. There was just something odd about that, in Harry’s opinion, but he didn’t have time to contemplate that now. There were other more pressing matters at hand.
“How did you get here?” Harry asked coldly, knowing Voldemort well enough that he’d most likely enjoy gloating about his accomplishment. That might keep him distracted long enough for reinforcements to arrive, or at the very least give him time to think of a plan to get them out of here.
“Now that is an interesting story,” Voldemort hissed casually as he surveyed the room with interest. He didn’t even spare the hostages a glance. “After our last meeting I was… shall we say, incapacitated — although I did fair better than my poor Nagini, just one more thing I intend to make you suffer for, Harry. But I digress… It was the actions of my loyal servant Demeter De’Leuvieres that saved me. He and his lovely wife found me in time to stop the bleeding from killing this body. It would have been inconvenient for me to lose this form now, but not insurmountable. As you know, it would take a bit more than a mere flesh wound to kill Lord Voldemort, isn’t that right Harry?”
“You do have a nasty habit of surviving,” Harry said flippantly, ignoring the growls of protest from the Death Eaters that surrounded them. He felt Ginny flinch but didn’t move his eyes from the enemy. Keeping him talking was distracting him for now from killing them.
“As do you,” Voldemort said coldly, meeting his eyes. “We are very similar, Harry. Both of us are very powerful wizards, both grew up as orphans without the comfort of a mother’s love. And we are both survivors. I think under different circumstances we might have gotten on well.”
“You’re the one who made me an orphan, you bastard!” Harry yelled, enraged. “We are nothing alike.”
“Details, Harry… merely details.” He said calmly then sighed dramatically. “It’s such a shame that it all comes down to this. We were so good together once — you were so very cooperative when you thought your little girlfriend was dead. Severus is an excellent potions master, wouldn’t you agree?” He snapped his fingers demandingly. “Severus, come forward and take a bow. You deserve Mr. Potter’s acclaim for the performance you’ve given. Such a loyal servant — to me, that is.”
A figure stepped forward hesitantly and pulled off his hood, exposing the sour face of Severus Snape to the group. Hermione gasped, Ron growled, and Stephen looked like he wanted to murder the man on the spot.
“I should have known it was you all along,” Harry said with pure hatred. “You probably told him everything the Order was up to, didn’t you, traitor? I bet you even told him about the lost Portkey and the password — you were there when we left, weren’t you, so you’d know how to activate it. How Dumbledore could have trusted you all these years is beyond me,” he said contemptuously. “You’re a liar and a coward!”
“I, too, am a survivor, Potter,” Snape said coldly, looking down his hooked nose at him. “That is one of the greatest lessons I have learned from my Master.”
“Severus has been very helpful,” Voldemort agreed, nodding approvingly at Snape. “He brewed the perfect Polyjuice potion for that poor, pitiful Muggle we killed in order to trick you into letting your defenses down last autumn, and he helped me come up with just the thing to subdue your connection to the girl so that you would think it was really your precious Ginny dying and lower your remaining defenses. You were weak then, Potter, and you’re still weak.”
But Harry didn’t feel weak. In fact, he suddenly felt the opposite of weak.
“That’s where you’re wrong, Tom,” he said feeling Ginny’s love and strength inside of him, and his friends’ love and strength all around him. “You’re on my territory now and you’ll soon know how much you’ve always underestimated me.”
Voldemort laughed. “Arrogant to the end just like your father. He made a similar speech just before I killed him, as I recall.”
“You’re a fine one to talk about arrogance,” Stephen interjected angrily. “You stand here with your dimwitted minions holding us at wand point while you make lofty threats. It must be easier to kill defenseless women, children, and Muggles than competent witches and wizards. That is your specialty, isn’t it?”
Voldemort turned his angry red snake eyes on Stephen. Harry wanted to hex his mentor for taking the attention on himself, but he couldn’t really blame Stephen — he as much as anyone had a right to confront the monster who slaughtered his family.
“Ah, Mr. Hunter,” Voldemort said coldly. “You and I have quite the history together — almost as much as Harry and I, wouldn’t you say? And to think I could have been rid of you years ago had Harry’s father and the blood traitor Black not rescued you from my snake pit just in time to save your miserable life. But I’m told it made a lasting impression on you nevertheless.” He laughed, conjuring a writhing, hissing snake from thin air and stroking it seductively. “I can be sure to repeat the experience for you one last time just before I kill you,” he promised with a chilling laugh that was echoed by the surrounding Death Eaters.
Stephen stiffened but remained resolute, gripping his wand tightly. “You’ve terrorized enough, Voldemort. You’re reign of darkness ends today.”
“My, my… we are a confident bunch, aren’t we?” Voldemort answered wryly. “You Gryffindors are all so boringly predictable — brave to the very end. We’ll see about that… Crucio!” he said almost lazily.
Voldemort’s unexpected and powerful curse easily broke through the shield and hit Harry square on the chest. It was pain upon pain, made worse because he hadn’t seen it coming. Every nerve ending felt as if it was on fire and he tried to stop himself from crying out but failed miserably as he screamed. Even worse, his shield was shattered and the Death Eaters had picked up the gauntlet and were now exchanging curses with the others while Harry’s world exploded in pain. Beside him Ginny was also suffering because his mind was wide open to her and she was feeling the residual effects of the Cruciatus Curse almost to the full extent that he was feeling it.
Harry wasn’t certain how long the curse had been on him — it could have been minutes, or hours, or days even. Time had no meaning, only the pain. And then suddenly, almost as if someone had flipped a switch, it was gone. Curiously, Harry found himself floating above the scene unfolding around him; he could see everything from an eagle’s perspective even as his body below was still reacting to the pain being inflicted by Voldemort’s curse. There was Ron shielding both himself and Hermione as she volleyed spells around him at the nearest Death Eaters within range. Tlaloc had stunned two Death Eaters near him to allow his pregnant wife to run to safety behind one of the statues of the Ancient Ones — he followed her and was defiantly shielding her from harm with his own body.
Stephen stood firm where he was, holding his own by dodging curses right and left and then returning fire whenever he could. He had already vanished Voldemort’s conjured snake and was ruthlessly hexing and jinxing anyone in sight, trying desperately to get to Voldemort and stop the curse he was still inflicting on Harry — or rather his body. Even the teopati priests were fighting Death Eaters, although at least two of them had been struck down. Luckily about half the group of Death Eaters was ignoring the offensive attack and was focusing on protecting their master as he zealously inflicted pain on the two people in the centre of the room.
Ginny’s screams tore at his heart and enraged him beyond belief. Harry barely had time to register the entrance of even more people into the fight — Dumbledore, Remus, Tonks, almost every member of the Weasley family save Molly and Percy, Kingsley Shacklebolt, and a feeble but feisty Tecuhtl along with a group of warriors led by Chac — when the tattoo on his chest erupted and his consciousness merged with the power of the Ancient Ones.
Back in his body now, his eyes snapped open and he accepted the curse, drawing Voldemort’s power to him even as his body rose of its own accord. Eyes glowing green as emeralds and hair standing wildly on end, he had no idea how terrifying he looked — how he instilled instant fear in those who bore witness to this amazing and miraculous transformation.
Voldemort tried desperately to break the connection, but Harry wouldn’t let him. He grabbed hold of the magic with his bare hands and commanded, “Tormae Viccus Aelea!”
His voice rang out in the ancient, forgotten language of power. It reverberated off the walls and everyone stopped to stare at the scene unfolding before them in morbid curiosity, forgetting entirely about their own battles.
Voldemort’s power was literally being ripped from his body, dragged from him by the connection of the Cruciatus Curse towards Harry who was letting it pool at his feet in a puddle of bright light. As the magic left him Voldemort’s body seemed to shrivel up like an old piece of fruit that had been left out in the sun too long. He lay in a heap, barely alive, nothing more than putrid flesh and brittle bones — an embodiment of the abomination that was his life. Voldemort’s magic crackled and sputtered at Harry’s feet and he lifted a hand over it, speaking more words of power.
“Maguus Suume!” he said, pointing his finger upward.
The light shot upward in a blinding streak of brilliance towards the opening in the temple above. Like a shooting star in daylight, it loped in the direction of the sun where it was finally absorbed in a brilliant blaze of light, so bright that the people looking up had to shield their eyes from it. Even the Muggles were sure to have noticed that, the part of Harry that was still his consciousness mused. He could just imagine the newscasters reporting on unusual solar flares and the scientists scratching their heads in confusion.
The room was quiet as the occupants — Order Members, Death Eaters, and natives — all stared at him in awe and astonishment.
Harry raised his hand again and multiple blasts knocked the remaining Death Eaters to their feet, magically bound… all but Snape. The potions master was left standing in the centre of a group of captured Death Eaters, staring at him defiantly.
“YOU SHALL SUFFER THE SAME PUNISHMENT AS YOUR MASTER, TRAITOR!” his voice rang out as he raised his hand.
But Dumbledore stepped in front of him, shielding Snape with his own body.
“I cannot allow you to do that, Harry,” his trusted Headmaster said firmly. “There are things you do not know.”
“I know he is a traitor and a murder,” he roared angrily. “His punishment shall fit his crimes!” He waved his hand over the group of Death Eaters and they all cried out in pain. “They will all be judged and punished according to their crimes!”
“They will be given a fair trial according to our laws,” Dumbledore insisted. “I will see to this personally as Head Mugwump of the Wizengamot. Severus Snape is NOT a criminal. He has been working as a spy for the Order of the Phoenix for years and has committed no crime. The potion that the Muggle girl was given was the Draught of Living Death. Afterwards she received the antidote and a memory charm, and then was turned over to a Muggle hospital for care before returning to her family.”
Stephen stepped in. “He’s telling the truth, Harry. Today’s confrontation was all arranged — we just didn’t know it would come quite so soon. That note I got just before we left warned me to be ready. We were still trying to come up with a plan to destroy the last Horcrux without harming you in the process before we brought him here, but you took care of that one on your own.” He looked over at Voldemort’s broken, useless body. “You did it Harry. It’s over. There’s no more justice to be had. Let the Aurors take it from here.”
“Harry,” Ginny said gently from behind him, placing a hand on his arm, “it’s over. Come back to me, love.”
“They hurt you and they will pay!” he insisted. “It is my duty to make them pay and not entrust it to foolish humans.” He turned his glowing green eyes on Dumbledore. “You have made mistakes, old man. Your Ministry has made even more mistakes. How am I to trust that you will see this done?”
“You have my vow that justice will be done,” Dumbledore said calmly.
“Please, Harry…” Ginny begged. “Please come back to me.”
The only thing that mattered to him was Ginny’s plea. Slowly Harry made a reluctant decision and the power of Ehecailacozcatl faded, returning him to normal. The green glow left his eyes and his face grew more relaxed, as if a great burden had just been lifted from his shoulders.
“You don’t do anything halfway, do you Potter?” Draco Malfoy scoffed from the sidelines.
“Malfoy,” Harry growled raising his wand. “What are you doing here?”
“Mr. Malfoy has also been working as a spy,” Remus said, looking at Draco with a mixture of loathing and begrudging admiration. “Once we found out that he had been given a mission we recruited him to keep us informed of Voldemort’s activities in exchange for amnesty. He has risked much to help us this year, although he has done it for his own gain in order to stay out of Azkaban like his father. He played a key role in orchestrating this trap, although things accelerated at a faster pace than we had anticipated causing us some delay in getting here. We should have been here earlier, Harry. Sorry about that.”
“I’d say you arrived just in time,” Harry said, lowering his wand and shooting Snape a cold glance. “Any later and you’d be looking for a new Potions Master.” He eyed Snape with distrust, still not believing that the man was on the level, and he looked back, his face full of loathing. He was a survivor alright; he had played both sides brilliantly, and even now Harry wasn’t certain he had done the right thing by letting the slippery git off so easily.
“Professor,” Hermione asked Dumbledore, motioning to the Death Eaters still magically bound and the barely alive form of Voldemort, “what is to happen to them?”
“Their wands will be confiscated and they will transported directly into holding cells at the Ministry,” Dumbledore explained. “From there they will await trials and, depending on their crimes, appropriate punishments will be administered.”
“What about Voldemort?” Harry asked, looking over at the beast with pitiless eyes. “What’s to be done with him?”
“I think it’s necessary for the entire Wizarding World to see that he is no longer a threat,” Dumbledore answered gravely. “It’s the only way we can heal and begin to get past the damage he and his followers have caused. I, for one, will be pushing for his immediate execution.”
“Not all of his followers are here,” Harry said, looking around. “What happens if the others decide to try and free him?”
“That is why swift justice must be obtained,” he answered heavily. “I do not foresee a problem, however. I think the majority will be more than willing to bring closure to this tragic episode in our history. I’m certain your presence in the courtroom will be necessary, Harry. Do you think you will be up for that?”
Harry nodded resolutely. “Absolutely. And if they don’t vote for execution, then I may have to take the law in my own hands,” he said darkly.
“I don’t think that will be necessary,” Dumbledore said with a frown. “But if it comes to that, then I will be there to help you see that it is done.”
“Me too,” Stephen added.
“And me,” Ginny agreed.
Hermione looked at Ron and he nodded his head. “Us as well,” she said definitively.
Soon every Order member in the room was murmuring their pledge to see that justice was done.
Masaya was whispering to her father and husband the translation of the proceedings which caused Tlaloc to tell Harry in Nahuatl, “We can see that these insurgents are restrained, Prince, until you can make other arrangements. They will be safe in our prison under the watch of my warriors. You have my word.” He bowed to Harry respectfully, waiting for his reply.
“Thank you Tlaloc,” Harry said, inclining his head and releasing Tlaloc from his bow. “If it’s not too much bother, I think my friends and family would like to clean up and some food as well.”
“I will see to it, Prince,” Masaya said, also bowing.
He expressed his gratitude and she hurried off to make the arrangements as Tlaloc and his men gathered the Death Eater’s wands and then drew restraining bands around them to bind their magic while still allowing them some movement. Harry had learned that this was how the islanders controlled their prisoners since their magic bands could not be easily removed.
Tecuhtl hobbled up, supported by Citlali and his son, Chac. He shrugged them off him and laboriously fell to his knees in front of Harry. “I beg for your forgiveness, Prince,” he said in a humble, regretful voice. A small tear slipped down his cheek as he spoke. “Our island belongs to your and your kin… we are your loyal servants. The Mixtec people can not express how grateful we are to you for all that you have done. We have witnessed great miracles today, and stories of your greatness will be told to our children’s children for generations to come.”
Harry bowed to the chief. “Thank you Chief Tecuhtl. I accept your apology and your hospitality, although I fear that I may have been the cause of your troubles. If I had not tried to destroy the Imachi the Darkness may never have come.”
“But he has seen to it that your people will never be bothered by the Imachi ever again,” Stephen interrupted, helping the chief to his feet. “The Tree of Life has been secured, Your Highness, and the hole to the Underworld has been plugged. I would be happy to give a first-hand accounting of these events for your official records.”
“Thank you, Xolotl,” Tecuhtl said bowing shortly to him as well then turning back to Harry. “That would be most appreciated. Now… if you will excuse me, Prince, I feel the need to… return to my sick bed. I am not yet fully recovered… as you can see.” His voice was slow and laboured and his limbs shook precariously. Citlali and Chac steadied him.
“Of course,” Harry said, dismissing him with a small bow. The remaining people in the room watched him go silently.
When he was gone Ron whistled appreciatively, “You’re the new ruler, Harry. They really do think you’re a god! Did you hear what he said? This island is yours!”
“You understood that gobbledegook?” Bill said. “I didn’t get any of that.”
“Hermione did an Eavesdropper spell on us,” Ron told him proudly. “I understood everything he said perfectly.”
“Do tell, little brother,” Fred said pulling him aside and followed closely by George and Charlie. “I think you need to fill us in on what’s been going on around here.” As Ron began to catch them up Bill, Remus, and Tonks also drifted over to listen in.
“If it’s quite all right with you, Harry,” Dumbledore said, “I think I’ll return to the Ministry and make the necessary arrangements for the transfer of the prisoners.” He looked at Snape and Malfoy in particular as he said, “Anyone who wishes to join me in my return trip is more than welcome to accompany me.” The two Slytherins exchanged pointed glances and moved off with the Headmaster.
“What’s Malfoy’s deal?” Harry asked Mr. Weasley. “Is he really working for the Order?”
“As far as we know, yes,” Mr. Weasley admitted. “However, with both his parents now under arrest, he stands to have control of the entire Malfoy fortune. That’s strong motivation for ‘doing the right thing’ wouldn’t you say?” he said cynically.
“Malfoy’s always only been out for himself,” Ginny commented, her voice bitter. “And I don’t trust Snape either. There’s something about those two that makes me doubt their loyalty, even now.” She glanced at Harry and he knew she had picked up on his feelings on the subject.
“Snape’s a git,” Stephen said, “but from what I know of his role in this mess, he has done his best to help us and not commit any crimes while undercover. I had my doubts about him too, but after I saw what he did to help that poor Muggle girl I had to rethink my opinion of the man. I don’t know about Malfoy, though.”
Harry sighed. “I’m tired of wasting energy talking about those two.” He sunk down on the marble slab and claimed Ginny’s hand, marvelling at the feelings that came with the contact. He had been so long without it these past few days that he wanted to savour every minute. “Are you okay?” he asked her.
She smiled and squeezed his hand. “I’m fine, Harry,” she assured him. “That was a close call, you git, but luckily it all worked out in the end.”
“Ginny, darling,” Mr. Weasley said, coming over to the other side of Ginny and throwing a loving arm over her shoulder. “I’m so happy to see you well. I promised your mother that as soon as I knew something I’d let her know. Would it be okay if I went back home? I’d like to let her know that everything’s all right.”
“Do what you need to do, Dad,” Ginny said, leaning into his embrace. “I know Mum must be going spare.”
He sighed wearily. “Quite right, dear, quite right.”
Catching Ginny’s wistfulness to see her mother, Harry asked Mr. Weasley if he could collect Molly and return to the island as soon as possible. Happily, he agreed, kissing Ginny goodbye and then shaking Harry’s hand firmly. He next went to tell the others where he was going, and Stephen moved off with him to arrange for the Portkey to take him back to Hogwarts. Soon after, Masaya came back and escorted the rest of them to special quarters within the temple where they could wash up before eating.
***
Later that night after they had all washed up, changed into the finest island clothes and sandals the natives could produce, and feasted on a banquet of food, Harry led Ginny down to the moonlit shore.
“Thank you for bringing Mum here, Harry,” Ginny told him, leaning her head into his shoulder as they walked lazily through the sand and tide. “I know it meant a lot to both my parents to see that everything is okay now. It was even good to see Percy again. I had no idea he was also working as a spy for Dumbledore within the Ministry, did you?”
He shook his head. “No, I didn’t. But it does make sense. I think in the beginning he was probably lured in by Fudge’s lies, but then later realised what an idiot he’d been.”
She breathed in deeply. “I feel so… free. Don’t you? It’s like a huge burden has been taken off our shoulders and now the rest of our lives are ahead of us and we can actually live.”
“I know exactly what you mean,” Harry murmured, squeezing her hand gently.
She stopped and her eyes reaching into his and piercing his thoughts. “You’re worried still, aren’t you?” she said. “Why?”
“He’s not dead yet, Ginny,” he said, voicing the concern he’d been struggling with since that afternoon when he’d given into Dumbledore’s request and let Voldemort live. “I don’t think I’ll be able to actually rest until he’s truly gone and his followers either in the grave with him or secure in Azkaban. It just doesn’t feel like enough after everything we’ve been put through — after everything he’s done.”
“You took his magic, Harry,” she said with a tilt of her eyebrow. “To Tom, that’s worse than death. He’s no more magical than a Muggle. Let him live for a few days with that knowledge. Personally, I think its sweet justice.”
He smiled reluctantly. “That’s one way of looking at it I suppose.” He continued walking, pulling her along aimlessly and enjoying the warm summer heat together.
“Your father said he talked to Dumbledore,” he told her. “The arrangements are being made to hold the prisoners and Voldemort’s trial will be first. It’ll take place day after tomorrow.”
“What will happen?” she asked curiously.
“What’s left of him will be brought in front of the entire Wizengamot including every Ministry official, the victims’ families that survived his attacks, and a horde of reporters. We’ll all have to be present to give testimony if needed, although I’m certain that it’s me they’ll want to talk to. From the sound of it, the entire world is going to be there. Your dad says they’re already celebrating, just like before. I dread going back to that, but at the same time I need to finish this. And I meant what I said to Dumbledore… If they don’t do the right thing then I’ll take matters in my own hands. Either way, he’ll be out of our lives for good.”
“I look forward to that day,” Ginny said wistfully. “What will you do then, Harry?”
“I’ve been thinking about that, too,” he admitted with a sly smile. “I missed the entire year, didn’t I? I’ve been thinking about hiding out at Hogwarts for the next few years with you until all the hoopla dies down. We still have our secret room there, and Ron and Hermione will still have one year left. I’d love to have nothing more to worry about than lessons and winning the House Cup. Do you think I could get my position back on the Gryffindor House Team?”
She chuckled. “Considering how dismal we did without you this year, I don’t think Ron would have a problem with that. Besides, technically you’re still captain. Ron always told the team that he was just standing in for you until you were back with us.”
That news warmed his heart. Ron had always been such a loyal friend to him. It was time he returned the favour. “I think Ron should keep the captaincy next year. He deserves it.”
Ginny smiled. “I think he’d like that.”
“Ginny,” Harry said hesitantly, his heart suddenly pounding in his chest. “I’ve been thinking about a lot of things recently. I never figured I’d get this far, you see, but now that I have I can only see one possible future for me.”
Alarmed, she stopped, her eyes searching his face for clues about what he was talking about. “What is it, Harry? What do you want?”
“I want you,” he said, feeling her relax. He leaned in close, smelling the sea mist and salt in her hair. “The only future I can imagine is one where you’re right there by my side.”
She looked up into his eyes, the love inside her heart shining through. “I’ve always been by your side, Harry,” she said with confidence. “And I always will be. You’re mine and I’m yours forever. From here on out our lives belong to no one but each other, and I intend to live Harry. I intend to live my life to the fullest, being grateful for every moment I get to spend it with you.”
He sighed contentedly, knowing that she had voiced that much better than he ever could have. There was only one thing left to do. He bent down on one knee and took her hand in his, looking deeply into her eyes. “In that case, Ginevra Molly Weasley, I think your family might like it if we spent our lives together as a married couple after we leave Hogwarts. Would you… would you do me the honour of being my wife?”
“I…,” she blushed, shocked and blissfully happy all at the same time. “Yes, of course I will.”
Her eyes grew wide as he waved his hand over hers and a beautiful ring appeared there. He watched her face for a reaction as she stared at it, stunned.
“It’s extraordinary, Harry!” she gasped, sinking down beside him and pulling him in for a searing kiss. “It’s exactly the kind of ring I’ve always dreamed about.”
He smiled mischievously. “I know,” he admitted. “I sort of peeked.”
She hit him lightly on the arm. “That’s cheating, you prat!” But then she sighed happily as she looked down at the perfect expression of his love. “I love it, but not as much as I love you.”
His eyes grew serious as he leaned in for another heart-stopping kiss. “I love you too, Ginny,” he whispered. “And I’m looking forward to living, so long as you’re there to share it with me.”
“Together,” she said, melding her soul into his.
“Together,” he agreed.
***
[A/N: Epilogue to follow soon.]
Chapter 35: Epilogue: Voldemort's Last
Disclaimer: The characters and situations of Harry Potter depicted in this story are the legal property of J.K. Rowling, Bloomsbury, and AOL Time Warner, and have been used without permission. No copyright infringement is intended.No profit is being made off this story. It is for entertainment purposes only.
Warning: The following chapter includes several major character deaths. Sorry if this isn’t the ending you had envisioned, but I felt the need to do it this way in order to give myself some wiggle room in case I ever decide to visit this universe again sometime. At this point I have no plans for a sequel, but you never know what the future might hold… I hope you like it and that you’re not too angry with me once you read it. Thanks for coming along for the ride. It’s been fun!
“Voldemort’s Last”
The Courtroom was packed. Harry had never seen such chaos — even the Quidditch World Cup didn’t come close to this circus. Everyone wanted to see what had become of He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named because the rumours had already been running rampant about the condition the mighty Dark Lord was in thanks to Harry. No one was certain how Harry had done it, though. Sometimes Harry himself didn’t know how he had done it — not really. When he tried to say this, however, he had plenty of Weasleys step up and give a blow-by-blow account of the battle inside the Temple, each more fantastic than the last. Harry just shook his head and smiled at their antics, promising Ginny that he’d get even with them later.
His group was escorted in last by the security guard to specially prepared seats set apart from the rest of the crowd. Harry was thankful to Dumbledore for making these arrangements for them, but it didn’t stop the probing eyes and excited conversation at his arrival. He supposed he did look a bit different since most of them had seen him last. He hadn’t been seen in public since the long-forgotten court hearing that had granted him emancipation the previous year. Only a few days on the island had done wonders for his normally pale complexion, and he had used the same trick he had before to darken his skin to exactly the right shade of brown he liked. Ginny thought it looked quite fetching on him and secretly he was inclined to agree.
The entire Weasley family had come to support him through this, as well as Stephen, Remus, and Tonks. Snape had declined to attend and for that he was grateful, but Malfoy’s blond head could be seen on the other side of the courtroom. He and Harry exchanged frowns and Draco immediately looked away.
Ginny snorted quietly and whispered, “He’ll never change, will he? He’s still just a foul git interested only in saving his own skin.”
“Yes, but now he’s a very rich, foul git,” Harry reminded her softly. “He’ll have a lot of power once he finishes Hogwarts, if in fact he does. I wouldn’t be surprised if he doesn’t come back though.”
“Hoping, more like it,” Ron interjected sarcastically from his other side.
All three were promptly shushed by Hermione and Mrs. Weasley as a door opened and the fifty or so members of the Wizengamot entered the room, filing in like executioners in their plum-coloured robes emblazoned with a silver W on the left-hand side. For Harry it was very déjà vu and brought back memories of the hearing in his fifth year when he had almost been expelled. He fought a shiver and had to forcibly remind himself that he wasn’t the one on trial today. Most of the Wizengamot were prim-faced and serious, although a few seemed skittish and jumpy — probably due to nervousness at the prospect of coming face-to-face with the most feared wizard alive. Dumbledore was among them and there was no twinkle in his eyes today as his gaze swept the courtroom, landing finally on Harry. Everyone rose to their feet in respect as they filed inside, even Malfoy.
Dumbledore took his place in the front row centre, sat regally, and rapped his gavel sharply on the bench, calling the court to order. On his right was Rufus Scrimgeour and on his left Amelia Bones. Following Dumbledore’s example, the rest of the courtroom also sat noisily, but once seated the drop of a pin might have been heard inside the stone walls. Harry had never felt such tension and anticipation before in his life; it was almost stifling, and he had the sudden insane urge to laugh. Luckily Ginny poked him in the ribs and sent him stern thoughts, or he might have embarrassed himself.
“Please bring in the prisoner,” Dumbledore told the guard in a deep, authoritative voice as he arranged his parchments.
A moment later the guard returned nervously, leading the blackened, rotting form of Voldemort — or what was left of him — behind him on a chain. The Dark Lord was cuffed and bound, and he was utterly unrecognizable as the figure that had caused such chaos and devastation over the years. Harry almost pitied him — almost. If it were anyone else other than Voldemort he might have felt that emotion, but in this case all he felt was satisfaction.
Surprisingly, Voldemort straightened causing a gasp to ring out through the courtroom. He turned cold, blue eyes first on Harry and then swept up and down the row of Weasleys and the others with pure hate. Instinctively, Harry reached up to finger the thin white line on his forehead that had once been so prominent, although he felt no pain. The scar was still there, but it had faded to almost nothing now. One had to look very, very closely to see anything at all. Staunchly, Harry stared back at the monster before him and held his gaze evenly. He refused to show weakness now. It was beneath him, and he wanted to send the message to the Wizarding World that there was no longer anything to fear. Still, there were some in the crowd hiding their heads in their hands and crying out hysterically. Dumbledore rapped his gavel impatiently and threatened to remove anyone from the courtroom who was causing a disturbance and gradually it became quiet once again.
The guard pushed Voldemort roughly into the chair in the centre of the room and the magical chains immediately latched hold of him, securing him into place. Oddly Voldemort didn’t fight the chair. For some reason he seemed amused by it.
“Please state your full name for the record of the court,” Dumbledore said clearly.
“I am Lord Voldemort,” he said, smiling serenely at the gasps and cries that his name invoked.
Dumbledore turned to Percy who was acting as court scribe. “Please note for the record that Lord Voldemort is a pseudonym. This man’s real name is Tom Marvolo Riddle.”
Voldemort’s eyes narrowed. “I do not acknowledge that name.”
“Yet is it the one you were given at birth, is it not?” Dumbledore countered.
“It is the name my mother gave me, yes,” Voldemort spat angrily. “That name has no meaning to me.”
Dumbledore turned to Percy. “Let the record show that the he has indeed confirmed that his real name is in fact Tom Marvolo Riddle.” Percy nodded and wrote it down on his parchment, steadfastly ignoring the murderous look Voldemort was shooting him.
“In the case of the Criminal Trial of the accused, Tom Marvolo Riddle, AKA Lord Voldemort,” Dumbledore’s voice rang out, “into offences committed under the International Statute of Wizarding Laws, British Wizarding Laws, and Crimes Against Humanity. Interrogator: Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore, Chief Warlock of the Wizengamot and Supreme Mugwump of the International Confederation of Wizards. Court Scribe: Percy Ignatius Weasley. Witnesses for the Prosecution: Ginevra Molly Weasley, Stephen William Hunter, and Harry James Potter. Official written affidavits and testimonies from numerous other sources have been provided to members of the Wizengamot concerning this man’s numerous atrocities and shall be made part of the official record. Witness for the Defence: Tom Marvolo Riddle, AKA Lord Voldemort.”
Dumbledore shuffled his parchment and cleared his throat. “The charges against the accused are as follows: one hundred thirty-seven documented counts of murder; four thousand seventy-six documented counts of accessory to murder; high treason and conspiracy to overthrow the British Wizarding Government; seven-hundred forty-nine documented counts of atrocities against Muggles including but not limited to arson, terrorism, kidnapping, torture, theft, and destruction of property; wilful disregard of the International Statute of Secrecy of 1692; the illegal practice of the Dark Arts including six counts of producing a viable Horcrux; and regular use of the Unforgivable Curses — the Imperius Curse, the Cruciatus Curse, and the Killing Curse.” He looked at Voldemort sternly. “How do you plead?”
Voldemort smiled, the corners of his blackened lips twisting in an insane smirk. “Guilty on all counts.”
There was a gasp from the crowd who must have expected him to beg for his life or plead that he was innocent. Harry knew Voldemort well enough, however, to know that he would happily own up to everything he had done. He was proud of his accomplishments and would never stoop to begging for anything.
Dumbledore rapped his gavel for order. “Very well,” he said when the courtroom was silent again, “in that case we will not need to hear testimony from the witnesses and we can commence to sentencing.”
“And I was so looking forward to hearing from the great and heroic Harry Potter,” Voldemort said sarcastically, turning his murderous eyes on Harry who resisted the urge to look away. “…The Boy-Who-Lived-Too-Long.
“…Or perhaps, the lovely and sweet Ginevra Weasley, whom I especially adore.” Beside him Ginny stiffened and shivered, leaning into him for comfort as Voldemort’s sadistic eyes travelled to her and stopped. “It’s not hard to see what Harry sees in her, is it?”
His shift of attention invoked instant rage in Harry who glared at Voldemort darkly, but Voldemort’s eyes travelled on.
“And let’s not forget my old friend Stephen Hunter,” he said regally, “whose family I knew quite well — when they were alive, that is. I was especially fond of his lovely wife, Mariah. She was your granddaughter, Albus, was she not?” He glanced up into Dumbledore’s impassive eyes. “But the child was a whiny, spoilt thing, I’m afraid,” he said offhandedly. “Not much of a waste there, was it?”
A few chairs down Harry saw Stephen reach for his wand, but Remus Lupin put a hand on his shoulder from behind and he resisted angrily while Voldemort laughed, enjoying the reactions he got.
Dumbledore rapped his gavel again fiercely. “Enough! If you are quite through with your theatrics and mind games, Tom, we will proceed to the sentencing.”
“By all means,” Voldemort said lazily, sitting back in his chair. “Go on. I haven’t anywhere to be… yet.”
Dumbledore ignored his choice of words. “Given your plea of guilty on all charges and in accordance with our laws, taking into account the seriousness of your charges and your history, I hereby decree that Tom Marvolo Riddle, AKA Lord Voldemort, will be sentenced to execution for his crimes by means of the Death Veil. All those in favour of this verdict say ‘aye’.”
The entire Wizengamot echoed the Chief Warlock’s voice, confirming his pronouncement with a resounding number of ‘ayes’.
“Anyone opposed to this verdict, please state ‘nay’.”
Voldemort’s cold eyes surveyed the faces resting in particular on a few, seeming to be trying to memorize each and every one of them. A few shifted in their seats or coughed nervously but no one opposed the verdict.
“Very well then,” Dumbledore said in a satisfied voice. “Execution will commence in one hour.” He motioned for the guard. “Take him to his holding cell and prepare him for execution per the guidelines set forth in the Wizengamot Charter of Rights.” He rapped his gavel, lending finality to the verdict. “This court will reconvene in one hour in the Death Chamber within the Department of Mysteries to carry out this action. All those in attendance today are welcome to bear witness. You are dismissed.”
The guard led the hobbling form of Voldemort out of the courtroom as the members of the Wizengamot rose to their feet and clustered together talking excitedly amongst themselves. Harry stayed seated, waiting with the others for the crowd to filter out. He was aware of a photographer snapping pictures nearby, but it wasn’t bothering him so he ignored it. Ginny reached over and gripped his hand and he locked eyes with her, communicating everything he was feeling in that simple touch and a glance. She understood him perfectly, even now.
“What’s wrong, Harry?” Ron asked, elbowing him in the ribs. “You okay, mate?”
“Not really,” Harry answered. “I thought I’d be elated that this moment has finally come, but all I can feel is empty.”
“Well, I think its bloody good news for a change, if you ask me,” Ron said jovially. “He’s finally getting what’s coming to him.”
“But it seems so little justice for such an evil person,” Ginny complained. “I mean, considering everything he’s done — all the lives he’s ruined, all the people he’s killed — it doesn’t seem right. All he has to do is walk through a silly veil and it’s over. It’s a quick and painless death — much more humane than he deserves.”
“Dumbledore knows what he’s doing,” Hermione said certainly, looking towards the old Headmaster as he gathered his belongings, nodding and speaking to a few here and there.
“I have a bad feeling about this,” Harry said ominously. “Did you hear what he said… he’s up to something, I can feel it.”
“How could he be?” Hermione said shaking her head doubtfully. “He’s being closely guarded at all times, and you took all his magic. What could he possibly do?”
“Hermione,” Ron said as if she was slow, “he’s Voldemort, remember?”
Hermione stared at him in shock, and so did Harry and Ginny. They all exchanged surprised looks.
“What?” Ron asked, looking around in confusion.
Hermione learned over and kissed him, “You said it,” she exclaimed proudly. “You said his name.”
Ron reddened. “Yeah well… once you’ve seen your best mate channel a Mesoamerican god, defeat the powers of the underworld, and then drain someone’s magic, he doesn’t seem like much, does he?”
Harry sighed heavily. “I wish that were the case.”
They finally exited the courtroom and made their way to the ninth level and the familiar corridor of the Department of Mysteries. At the doorway they were escorted in by a small nervous man, most likely and Unspeakable, whose eyes kept darting to and fro like he was certain they saw something they weren’t supposed to see. Harry could have reminded him that they’d already seen quite a bit behind these doors but thought it best not to remind him in case he was still holding a grudge about the amount of damage they had caused that night. Just as in the courtroom he felt an overwhelming sense of déjà vu as he made his way to the Death Chamber, and from the looks of it the others did too. Ron in particular was rubbing his arms where the brains tentacles had grabbed him and Hermione’s eyes were wide as she surveyed her surroundings with interest. Harry supposed it did look more impressive in the light.
The man led them to the front row of the sunken pit where they had an excellent view of the stone dais and crumbling stone archway. In his mind’s eye Harry could still see Sirius flying backwards through that archway and his heart constricted. Ginny reached over and intertwined her fingers with his. He could feel her sadness… or was that his own? It was difficult to tell because the feelings were so similar. He realized that she must be thinking about Sirius too, and that made him feel better somehow — not so alone in his pain.
Slowly the room filled up, the people silent and sombre. This place demanded reverence. When the room was filled the Wizengamot filed in and took their places led by a grim-faced Dumbledore.
“Bring forth the prisoner,” he stated in a magically amplified voice. Harry hadn’t even seen him touch his wand to his throat or utter a spell yet his voice seemed to reverberate off the cold grey stone walls.
A door up above opened and the same guard as earlier came through with Voldemort. They descended the stone steps one at a time slowly, each footstep echoing threateningly throughout the room. To Harry, every clack of the manacles, every scrape of shoes on stone, seemed to bring the entire Wizarding World one step closer to peace. He was dressed in a black robe, his hands bound in front of him by heavy chains which seemed to cause him to stoop over even more than before.
When they finally reached the dais the prisoner was placed in front of the Veil and turned so that he was facing the crowd. Nervously, the guard stepped aside and Dumbledore stood.
“For your crimes against the Wizarding World and humanity you, Tom Marvolo Riddle, have been sentenced to death. Before the punishment is enacted, do you have any last words?” Dumbledore said in a grave voice, a grim expression plastered on his face.
A slow smile crept on Voldemort’s disfigured face and the hairs on the back of Harry’s neck tingled. Voldemort looked straight at him and a maniacal, mad gleam appeared in his eyes, freezing Harry in place.
“Only three…” he said, straightening up. “Farewell, Harry Potter.”
It happened so fast that Harry didn’t have time to react. A silver dagger soared through the air towards him. He raised his hand to stop it, but before he could conjure a spell Dumbledore had already appeared from out of nowhere directly in the path of the dagger. It slammed into his chest firmly and he slumped backward, falling hard into Harry who toppled out of his seat, slamming his head against the stone bench. At the same time Stephen raised his own hand and fired a stunner at Voldemort who, unable to defend himself with magic, stumbled roughly backward.
With a look of pure panic and absolute shock he fell through the Veil, desperately trying to stop himself, an unearthly scream emanating from his lips.
The crowd was in a panic, shrieking and yelling and trying to get out of the room as fast as they could while Harry found himself pinned to the ground by the heavy, lifeless body of the Hogwarts Headmaster, the greatest wizard the world had ever known, Albus Dumbledore.
As he looked down at the old man in his arms the emotion in his chest erupted in a stream of anguish — the worst pain he had ever felt in his life. Dumbledore’s empty eyes stared back at him, not accusing or angry or twinkling, just empty.
“No,” he cried trying to shake him awake. “Wake up, Professor… please wake up.”
Stephen bent down and touched his shoulder gently. “Harry,” he said softly. “He’s not going to wake, I’m afraid. He’s gone.”
Harry looked at him blankly, his eyes full of tears. He refused to let go of the body even though a part of him knew that it was pointless. Dumbledore was gone.
“How?” he asked Stephen in disbelief as Ginny came up beside him and slipped her arm around his shoulder, offering him as much comfort as she could. “How did this happen?”
Stephen’s eyes travelled down to the dagger, which was smoking unnaturally at the hilt near the entrance wound. “It was poisoned,” he said shaking his head. “He never had a chance.” His own eyes were filled to the brim with emotion as he gently reached over and closed his grandfather-in-law’s eyes. “Sleep well, my friend,” he muttered, choking back a sob. “May you rest in peace….”
But Harry couldn’t let it go. His eyes grew black with anger, causing Ginny to back up a bit as the suddenness of it hit her like a ton of bricks. Harry’s rage was like a volcano brimming with lava — it burned with fury, consuming him as he replayed the scene over and over in his mind. He managed to shrug out from under the body and jumped to his feet, pacing around the dais like a caged animal.
“How did he get it, Stephen?” Harry asked in cold fury. “Who could have done this? He was being watched the entire time. He had no magic left in him — I saw to that. Who could have given him the knife?”
He looked around at all the blank faces one by one, searching for answers. And then he knew. It was so obvious that he began to laugh. The more he laughed the more he cried, until he was certain the others suspected he had gone mad.
“Don’t you see?” he said, shaking his head. “It was him all along. He did this… he played us all, and we fell for it.”
“Who Harry?” Hermione asked concern for him written all over her face.
“Snape,” he answered in disgust. “It was Snape who made certain Voldemort had that dagger. Snape is the only one who didn’t show up today. He was the only one left who could have done this. He was a loyal Death Eater after all.”
They all looked at each other questioningly, as if mulling over what Harry had said in their minds.
“I think you’re right, Harry,” Ginny said, meeting his eyes. “I believe you.”
“Surely you don’t think—” Mrs. Weasley started to say.
“But he’s one of us…” Tonks said in confusion.
From behind them there was a sarcastic laugh. All eyes turned upward to the pale face and grey eyes of Draco Malfoy. “He played you brilliantly, didn’t he? He certainly had the old man fooled. You never knew whose side he was really on, did you?” He jumped down to the dais and stood face to face with Harry, his face twisted in dark amusement. “But you knew.”
“And so did you,” Harry said coldly, trying to resist the urge to grab him by the throat squeeze the life out of him.
Draco shook his head. “I suspected, but no one really knew, did they? It wasn’t until this very moment that it all made sense.” He looked down at the Headmaster’s body and the gleaming, smoking dagger. “He wanted us to know for certain it was him. He left you a calling card, Potter.”
All eyes turned to the dagger. Curiously, Harry turned his head just a fraction and that’s when he saw it… three silver letters emblazoned on the hilt — HBP.
“Half Blood Prince,” Draco said with glee. “That’s what he used to call himself when he was in school. I remember my father making a joke of it once. Severus Snape, loyal Death Eater and Half-Blood, the Prince of Mudbloods — his mother’s maiden name, you know, was Prince. His father was a common Muggle.”
“Just like Tom,” Harry said coldly, looking towards the Veil. “No wonder they got on so well.”
“If this is true,” Bill said, “shouldn’t we go find him?”
Malfoy laughed. “You could try but I don’t think it’ll matter. He’s dead.”
Harry’s head shot up. “Dead?”
“Ironic, isn’t it?” Malfoy sneered. “Apparently, he’s killed himself.” He brandished a piece of parchment in front of Harry’s nose. “This appeared in my pocket moments ago. It must have been charmed to appear as soon as the deed was done. You can read it if you like, but the jist of it is that he can rest in peace knowing that you’re burning in hell, Potter, just like your father. Poetic, wouldn’t you say?”
Harry grabbed the parchment and read through the letter written in Snape’s distinctive handwriting. He knew it well, having seen it in every potion class he’d ever taken since he came to Hogwarts when he was eleven. It was true.
“That dirty bastard,” Stephen swore, kicking his heavy boots into the hard bench and knocking off a chunk of stone.
Harry crumpled the paper. “Get out Malfoy,” he said icily. “Get as far away from me as humanly possible. Take your damned blood money and run far, far away. If I ever see you again, I will not be responsible for my actions. Is that clear?”
Malfoy’s face paled even more. Like a scared rabbit, he turned and fled, not looking back.
“Harry,” Hermione asked, making a step towards him. “Are you okay?”
He couldn’t answer, but out of the corner of his eye he could see Ginny shooting her a pointed look and shaking her head slightly.
Shakily, Harry reached down and pulled the knife from Dumbledore’s chest, feeling sick as he examined it. Fresh red blood dripped from the blade which was still smoking green from the poison. In cold fury he screamed with all his might and threw the dagger into the Veil, falling on his hands and knees in defeat.
Damn them both.
It was over. It was finally over… but why did it feel like they had lost?
~The End~
[A/N: I think I feel like Harry… it’s over, it’s finally over! Sorry for the shocking ending, but I did leave some things open in case I ever want to come back to this universe and play. I hope you understand. I’d like to say thank you to everyone who’s been there with me through this long, uphill battle. In the beginning I had a wonderful beta, Chromatix who helped me with my Brit-picking and Anglican spelling. Then I began posting at Phoenix Song and Arnel took up the gauntlet. I’ve had some very encouraging pre-betas and friends along the way who gave me feedback and encouragement, most of whom I’ve mentioned previously. Special thanks goes to Melindaleo who wouldn’t let me quit on this when I was sorely tempted to just chuck it all out the window. It took much longer than I anticipated, but I do feel a sense of accomplishment now that it’s done. To each and every one of you who reviewed, I can’t tell you how much I appreciate it. The emails and IM’s and reviews and chats have made me feel like a real writer. It’s given me the confidence to begin my own projects and the drive to actually go the distance and try for a career as a writer. I can’t thank you enough.
Now for the good news… While writing this I have also been working on two other fanfiction stories. The first one is a seven-part completed fic which you will soon see posted, possibly next week. It is not part of the SotS universe, and it is not a sequel. It is a Post-Hogwarts story with lots of angst and lots of H/G. Some of you may have read the first four chapters on a yahoo group at one time, but that group disbanded some time ago. I believe it was also put up on Simply Undeniable’s yahoo group as well for a bit, but I pulled it about a year ago. This fic has been updated for new canon and toned down to meet the rating standards of SIYE and PS. I’ll warn you… it does contain some sexual content and it is a bit dark, especially in the beginning. It is not meant for children. In fact, I have written some alternate chapters that are NC-17 but I’m still not certain if I’ll publish those. If I do, it will be on CM’s Bedchamber and possibly PS’s TBC. That’s a big ‘if’ as of right now. The fic is called Bring Me To Life and a 7-part companion piece is planned for it, but not written yet.
I also have another project I’m working on, but I’ll save the details on that for later. Even the title gives too much away… I’m hoping to get all this written and published before the final HP book makes an appearance, but we’ll see. I began this new project January 1st and have written 14 chapters so far, making it half finished. The chapters are shorter than SotS and the fic is lighter, more canon based, but still full of adventure, H/G, and even some action. No Mesoamerican islands, gods, super!Harry, or difficult to pronounce names in sight, although it does involve a foreign location for a big chunk of the story. I’m keeping this one under wraps for now until I’m at least ¾ finished so that I can give you regular updates at least once or twice a week. Now that SotS is finished and BmtL Part 1 is finished, I can devote all of my time to it, so I don’t think it’ll be long before you see it. In the meantime, check back next week for something new from me. Did you think you could get rid of me that easily? Until then… happy reading!]