Getting Harry Back

Chapter 17: His Family Grows, Part I

The earth never tires,
The earth is rude, silent, incomprehensible at first, Nature is rude, silent, incomprehensible at first.
Be not discouraged, keep on, there are divine things well enveloped,
I swear to you, there are divine things more beautiful than words can tell.
Walt Whitman
Song of the Open Road [9]
From Leaves of Grass, deathbed edition.

The rock-wind blew, sending its music reverberating through earth’s layers:

hhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhHHHHAAAARRRRYYYYyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyy

The Burrow shivered, listening but not yet hearing the name. Again the rock-wind blew, again stone-singing its melody:

hhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhHHHHAAAARRRRYYYYyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyy

The Burrow’s deeply engrounded consciousness blinked and gently shook itself, now knowing that it was being called, and so now another step closer to hearing. Again and more fiercely, the rock-wind sang:

hhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhHHHHAAAARRRRYYYYyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyy

Gradually, the Burrow came together out of the Dance. Still moving in time, it stretched and reached through itself, from its liquid magmic core up through its top earth and out to the stars. “The stars,” it rumbled as it absorbed their star rhythms and melodies and harmonies, as it danced to their star-music.

The Burrow wondered why it had emerged, what purposes, what needs had called it. Again the rock-wind sang, and now the Burrow fully heard:

hhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhHHHHAAAARRRRYYYYyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyy

“Ah,” the Burrow said and smiled. Ever since that Harry-glow had soaked into the Burrow, so deeply into it, the Burrow had been called out more than it could remember in many ages. Not that it minded, not that it minded at all.

“And this Harry –“ The Burrow laughed, and its laughter danced through earth and stone, it danced out to the sky. “No, this, my Harry, for I have embraced him, and he dances with me. He’s called me more times than that blessed, bloody owl and phoenix. And through his Giant, he calls me even deeper.”

The Burrow felt great pleasure at having a Giant, again. “My Hagrid,” it smiled, “enlivening my topmost layer.” Of everything alive, Giants were closest and most joined to the earth. Through Hagrid, the Burrow felt its on-the-earth link renewed with everything that moved-- the dancing of legs and wings, of scales and fins – and with everything that grew– the dancing of leaves, flowers and living green. For all these things, too, had their part in the Dance.

The Dance which the Burrow embodied – its ground surface – its mothering and fathering of all that runs, crawls, flies and grows. This joined hands with and was held by the grandmothering and grandfathering of its rich, deep earth. This, in its turn, joined hands with and rested on the ancestralling, on the foundation of bedrock and its vibrant tectonics. This, in its own turn, joined hands with and floated archetypically on the vast primal and living sea of rock-nourishing magma. And this, itself, was more-than-hand-joined, it was ur-linked1 to, and it remembered in its every cell its star origins, its life-fire -- that first-created beam, that “let there be light”.2

This, all this and more was the Dance.

The Burrow’s laughter eased back to rumbling. “While Hagrid is not full-Giant, since he is magnified through my Harry, and since they Giant-bond with all the others, they become like a race of Giants. Such pleasure! Dancing, again, from Giants to the stars!”

Yet at first, that Harry-glow had been a sad pleasure. “My Harry came with an earth-hunger born not mostly of his Giant, but more from his earth-starving at… How does Harry call it? Ah, yes, Number Four Privet.”

This thought weighed heavily on the Burrow. The Burrow knew, as all places knew, that the life-spark magic of people living in its topmost layer enriched or impoverished the place. That topmost layer was where earth touched sky. Thus, that topmost layer was earth’s on-going link to the stars and their music, the star-music of the Dance.

“That Number Four Privet has become still, cold and cut-off, and, therefore, finite and danceless. Even its gardens live almost not-at-all -- only above ground, knowing they are not-loved, knowing they are only a shallow and ill-purposed show. So while it took my Harry in, it gave only grudgingly and mean-spiritedly. Nothing to earth-feed, let alone to gladden his heart. Only the minimum, only kept barely-alive, and that barely-alive cramped and stripped of stars, and so without music.”

The Burrow felt its magmic heart reach out to its Harry-glow. From there it was guided above to its Harry. Then the Burrow embraced Harry. It drew on magics deep within itself. It also drew on magics above, even out to the star-clusters, those nurseries of ever-newer stars and their ever-more-powerful musics. New musics, yet their songs stretched back to the Origins, to the Magic of all things – when, at the Beginning, all things were One.

Again, the Burrow’s deep-rock laughter, its “Yes!” reverberated through Harry and its many layers. Then its laughter danced its way and Harry’s upward and homeward to the stars.

* * * * * * * * * *

O first created Beam, and thou great Word,
Let there be light, and the light was over all….
John Milton
Samson Agonistes

* * * * * * * * * *

[Alice?]

That took her a moment to register. She hadn’t heard her name for a time almost beyond her memory. Yet it wasn’t the word that made her heart skip. It was the voice, his voice.

[Frank? Is that you?]

Just before, she’d felt called by that magical spark within her, that spark which, somehow, awakened her several days ago. That calling was so strong, so powerful she’d felt compelled to go into the spark. And once inside, she’d felt herself drawn deep into the spark, much deeper than ever.

She’d already learned that the spark was the one feeling she could go to fully, without setting off Cruciatus pain. So she’d spent considerable time there, because there, she thought better. There, too, she felt more completely, not at-a-distance. And best of all, there, she sensed herself closer to Frank and Neville.

Until now, the spark had always been…. “Giving,” she thought. “Giving me love and hope, feeding or freeing my magic, connecting me more with Magic. And making me stronger, more aware.”

Now, however, the spark wasn’t giving but calling, calling her love and magic. And she found herself freely giving both. To her surprise, in giving, she felt herself stronger, she felt herself more fully than at any time since her awakening. And how she was there, inside the spark -- it was beautiful, so intensely feeling. She’d left her body but, paradoxically, she, herself – her magic and emotions -- had become more alive.

Once again, she had hearing, and she heard music – bagpipes and magical drumming. “I’m hearing music again!” True, her seeing was dimmed. Yet that dimmed seeing seemed more penetrating, more magical. She saw jewel-like glows, “inside myself and around.”

One jewel-glow was particularly brilliant and compellingly attractive. “It’s also, in some way, familiar.” She’d gone to it in a kind of flowing, not just instinctively, but intentionally. “Oh, it feels so good,” she thought, “to be able to intend something, and then do it!”

Even after her awakening, doing anything intentionally, except going to the spark, had always led to Cruciatus pain. “But now, here inside the spark, I regain my intentionality.” She’d deliberately flowed over to that jewel-glow and, without knowing quite why, she’d embraced it.

Then she’d heard her name, and in his voice!

Now she heard his reply:

[Alice! It’s me! And it’s you -- oh, sweet Merlin, it’s you!]

For some time, there were no more words, there was only their embracing, the magic, the incredible healing magic of their coming together. Finally, she spoke: [Frank, do you know about Neville?]

[Yes, Alice. Our son! Our son’s alive, and he’s trying to help us! You know that, too?]

[Can you feel his power?] Alice felt herself smile and burst with pride. [He has such magic! Stronger than either of us!]

[And he grows stronger all the time,] Frank said. [Do you know what’s happening?]

[No,] she said, [other than so much seems to come from this… this spark. Do you know what it is?]

[It’s magical,] Frank said, [and it’s not you or me. Or Neville. Even though it’s connected with all of us, or connecting all of us. I’m not sure, but it… feels familiar.]

[I can feel that, too,] Alice replied. [I could be wrong, but, well… it has the feel of Lily Potter and her Mugglish magic. I know it’s not Lily, but…. Can you sense that, Frank?]

Frank paused, and Alice felt him checking. [You’re right; it does have the feel of Lily. And… like you, I’m not sure, but I sense there’s more than a touch of James, too, and some of Dumbledore, though there’s so much more. Do you suppose….]

Frank paused again, checking deeper before saying, [Do you suppose it’s their son? Remember? Born almost the same time as Neville. What was his name? Harry? Yes, that right, Harry, Harry Potter. Of course, The Boy Who Lived, the baby who destroyed Voldemort. That makes sense, his magic being so powerful and special.]

[Harry Potter.] She felt the spark, which surrounded them, leap at the name and come closer to them. She felt, too, the spark wanting, so wanting, even quivering, aching to be touched, to be held.

Alice felt her love and magic even more fully, now that she was tenderly mother-called. She embraced Harry’s spark and held it -- she wasn’t sure quite how. And she felt more of her magic freed along with a great protectiveness that surprised her, but that felt oh-so-right.

[Harry,] she said soothingly, almost as if cooing to a small, scared child.

She felt Harry’s spark shiver, brighten and then release so much loving and connecting magic, magic he longed to release, magic which bound them all closer together. “Almost as if he’s clinging to me,” she thought, “for warmth or safety.”

[You’re right, Frank,] she said. [I’m sure it’s Harry, though he feels so much younger than Neville. And there are so many magics. More diverse, more complex magics than I’ve ever sensed. Yet he has his own strong magical signature. He must be a powerful and unique wizard. It almost seems --]

Alice was interrupted by another jewel-glow, one that, literally, grabbed her eyes, and even her heart. “Strange,” she thought, “but that glow seems stronger, brighter the more I give to Harry’s spark.” She concentrated on the jewel-glow, and then, suddenly, she knew!

[Neville!] Alice gasped. [That’s him, I’m sure!] Without thinking, she left Franks’ embrace, though she still held Harry’s spark. She sped towards the brightness of her son. She was so entranced, she didn’t notice that Harry’s spark was not only clinging now, but also trying, desperately though helplessly, to hold her back.

[Alice!] Frank shouted. [Wait! There’s a--]

Alice didn’t hear the rest. She ran into a powerful ward, and she found herself thrown back into Cruciatus pain. All seeing, all feeling and thinking, everything Alice was crushed. In an instant, she was enveloped in that cruel and laughing hell of hopelessness, black and pain.

A small piece of Alice’s mind, though, still felt Harry’s spark, who clung to her, refusing to let her go. The spark hung onto her even though, in staying with her, he also felt that pain. But while Harry’s spark had no power, now, to fight, his magic struggled to link, to re-connect Alice with Frank and Neville, reaching to connect her with every good magical thing that he felt in the world. Though in pain, Harry's spark hung on, reaching, reaching, and never giving up -- never, never, never.

* * * * * * * * * *

I sing the body electric,
The armies of those I love engirth me and I engirth them,
They will not let me off till I go with them, respond to them,
And discorrupt them, and charge them full with the charge of the soul.
Walt Whitman
I Sing the Body Electric [1]
From Leaves of Grass, deathbed edition.

[Harry?]

“mmmm.”

[Harry?]

“Hmm?” [My name? Calling my name? Someone calling my name?]

[Oh, God, Harry! Too bloody right someone’s calling your name!]

[Huh? Ron? Tha’ you?]

[sigh] [Yeah, Harry, it’s me.]

Harry smiled, still brain-foggy. [Hey, Ron. How's it goin’?]

[How’s it going??? Sweet Merlin on a Firebolt! Harry…? You…all right?]

He felt in Ron a surge of…. It was strong, enormously strong, and vast. But Harry couldn’t quite make it out. It was so hard to clear his mind, so hard to take in and to think. Finally, he dropped the effort and said,

[Yeah, Ron, M'all right. Smile. Jus’ tired. Why?]

[Bloody hell, Harry! Don’t you remem--]

Harry heard Ron stop, and for several minutes, as Harry drifted in a comfortable haze, he vaguely sensed Ron, with extreme effort, calming himself. A little. And Ron’s calming didn’t touch that vast “something”. Finally, Ron spoke again,

[Just… rest now, mate. Huh?]

Harry [nodded] and felt himself falling back asleep when, with a jolt, Harry realized they were talking! Inside! Like the twins!

[Yeah,] Ron answered. [Something happened. Don’t know what.]

Harry was awake now, and with his awake came memories and [Terror!], nearly causing another blackout. Instantly, he felt Ron move into Ron&Harry. And he felt not just Ron, but also that very powerful, very strange… “something” in Ron.

[Harry!] Ron held him absolutely in Ron&Harry. [You’re safe, mate, you’re safe. That snake, it’s in the wound; it never got all the way out. And it’s sealed in, now.]

Slowly, Harry calmed himself, and when he got back to words, while he didn’t have the strength for full-talking, he said, [What kept it in? I mean… we didn’t, did we?]

[Hagrid,] Ron said. [Others, too. Not sure who. We can work that out later. Just take it easy now, eh?]

Too tired for anything else, Harry [nodded] and faded.

* * * * * * * * * *

“The snake got out,” Harry explained, “or almost got out, and this black fury, too. Ron and I were fighting to keep them in my wound.”

Again, in his parents’ room and on his parents’ bed, Harry awakened, surrounded by his family, all pale-faced, wide-eyed scared. He was promptly engorged with Mum-administered chocolate. Again, he felt humiliated by all the trouble he’d caused. “During my community bond week,” he moaned. “Can’t I just finally get my own family without everything exploding and me making a complete idiot out of myself?” Again, he felt really guilty about what he was putting his family through. “They’ve been my family for only two weeks. And, God, we’re not even into Voldemort and that prophesy! What am I doing to my family?”

He felt worst about Ron, who was hysterically protective, inside and out. But he knew that Ron had reason, abundant reason. Ron knew what Harry was carrying within him -- a Dementor-like snake that was after his soul.

[And damn near got it!] Ron mind-screamed. [You know that, Harry!]. They both felt this horrifying reality blazing through Ron&Harry.

Harry had never felt so much terror in Ron, and not just terror. No, there was more than one horrifying reality. The struggle with that snake, and Harry nearly receiving not a Dementor's Kiss, but a Dementor’s Bite, all this had unearthed something in Ron that Harry had never felt before, a something that wasn’t going away and that had no ward to keep it in. While Harry hadn’t had the time or the peace to check it out, he sensed….

[Ron, it’s like a huge volcano of weird magic in you, and it’s about to go off. Never felt any magic like that. Never felt anyone’s magic, not even Hagrid’s or Dumbledore’s, let alone Dad’s or Mum’s, so… so….] Harry shook his head. [Beyond huge, and… ready to blow!]

[Don’t worry about me, Harry. I'm fine,] Ron shot back. [We’ve got all we can handle with--]

[But, Ron!] Harry was as scared of that weird magic as he was of the snake. He knew that if it let loose, Ron, even Ron&Harry didn’t have a prayer of containing it. He was terrified that it could destroy Ron. And he knew that it could go off at any moment.

This, however, was not on Ron’s agenda. [I’m not the one with a Dementor inside. Bloody Hell, Harry--]

[But we don’t know what all that magic could do to you!]

[And we know damn well EXACTLY what that snake tried to do to you! AND ALMOST DID! BLOODY, SODDING HELL, HARRY--]

[Okay, Ron, okay, okay, okay.] As Ron lost his temper, Harry felt that weird magic move closer to erupting. [Just... just stay calm, all right? Don’t set off that--]

[Stay CALM? HARRY--]

And so their “discussion” had gone, not to Harry’s liking.

It wasn’t just Ron that Harry had to contend with, either, though Ron was, by far, the scariest. Hermione was less hysterical than Ron, but no less over-protective. And Mum… well, Harry tried not even to go there -- all those feelings exploding out of her.

He noticed, irritably, that Dad and Dumbledore were smiling at his three guardian angels who were ferociously jostling each other in their frantic efforts to make sure, absolutely sure that Harry was really, really all right and not planning to die on them.

Harry truly had no plans to die. But his protests and his reassurances were completely ignored. Harry was utterly clear that he had no say in matters touching his health and safety. In fact, he sensed that his input was treated mostly as a minor annoyance. Only feeling their stark terror, especially Ron’s, prevented Harry from his own explosion, and that just barely. He felt his own temper raw and feral and teenishly desperate for some privacy and for somebody, anybody to believe that he was grown-up enough to at least keep breathing on his own.

“Oh, God,” he groaned, “why can’t they just leave me alone?”

[HARRY!] Ron mind-screamed.

Harry decided that having someone knowing not only his feelings, but also his thoughts was, at best, a mixed blessing. Mostly, it was just another way that, “I’m NEVER going to be left alone!”

With Ron, though, it wasn’t just terror, or even all that weird magic. Harry felt Ron every bit as exhausted and lethal-tempered from their snake struggle as he was. Harry knew that, with Ron’s temper so frayed, it would take almost nothing to snap. And he was positive that if Ron’s temper snapped, all that magic would blow sky-high, blotting out sun and sanity, and atomizing everything within miles.

When Dumbledore announced that he needed to question Harry, his hovering protectors went mental. Harry was sure there’d be a riot.

Now as he spoke, Harry felt Ron’s, Hermione’s and Mum’s nervous quivering around and inside him. It made it hard to concentrate -- that, and his exhaustion, and the looming double-specter of his Dementor-snake and Ron’s magical Armageddon.

“We couldn’t do it,” Harry continued. “We couldn’t keep the snake and that fury in my wound. Things got darker. And then… everyone was there.” Harry looked puzzled. “Not just there in the room, but… there inside me, too – their magics, at least. They came to help me.” Harry frowned and looked up at Dumbledore. “I’m not sure how that happened; they just came. We felt Mum and Dad. Then you and Hagrid. And others after that, but I’m not sure who, ‘cause after Hagrid came, things got kind of blurry.”

Seeing a small movement, Harry looked up and saw both Hedwig and Fawkes perched above him on the headboard, staring intently at him. Hedwig hooted and ruffled her feathers. He smiled at the two, then returned to the Headmaster.

[Harry,] Ron said, near-threatening, [you need to tell them all about that snake.]

[Oh, God, Ron!] Harry groaned, [you know what that’ll do to Mum. And the rest of them, too. I don’t want them--]

[Harry. They’ve got to know. If they don’t, they won’t be able to help, and they won’t stop pushing you, and then that snake will….]

Harry felt Ron’s terror overwhelm his mind-speaking, but only for a time, and this only made Ron stubborner. [You choose: you tell them or I do.]

[Ron--]

[You. Or. Me. And not later. Now!]

Harry simmered, but he knew that Ron was right. And he knew that Ron could feel that he knew. So there wasn’t much use in continuing either his arguing or his simmering. He looked over at Dumbledore, who was stroking his long beard, carefully examining him. Impulsively and from an exhausted lack of sense and boundaries, Harry reached out to touch the great beard. They both chuckled; Harry felt his mum [startle]. But Harry felt, too, strength and magic flowing back into him from the beard.

With that extra boost, Harry gathered his nerve and spoke, “Uh… that snake?”

“Yes, Harry?”

“It’s… well, it’s not exactly an… ordinary snake.”

“Oh?”

Harry realized, he so realized that he had everyone’s attention. He felt their listening and watching like a weight on his chest.

“Yeah, it’s more like….” He faltered.

[Harry.] Ron was pushing.

[All right,] Harry returned. [I know, I know.]

“It’s more like…?” Dumbledore encouraged.

Harry gulped, looked around for help, and saw none. Dumbledore seemed the best bet to stay stable after Harry’s “little surprise” -- at least that's what Harry hoped. So he looked at him, and finally forced out,

“Like a… Dementor?”

Total and absolute silence.

When Harry got enough courage to look at his family, he didn’t like anything he saw. Even Dumbledore didn’t look so good. And when he felt his family inside of him, he didn’t like anything he felt, either.

With a wince and a very small voice, he said,

“Sorry?"

* * * * * * * * * *

“Molly.” Dumbledore stayed patient. “Don’t you see that makes it even more imperative that we learn how we can assist Harry? And as fully and quickly as possible.”

Mum saw nothing, and her look was pure Avada kedavra.

[See!] Harry mind-yelled. [I told you what would happen if I--]

[Harry!] Ron’s temper and terror flamed. [They had to know. Don’t you understand?] Ron’s feelings were next door to meltdown, and his brain was halfway to the mulch pile. [And if that snake isn’t going to get out and kill you, you need to rest, dammit! YOU’RE EXHAUSTED!]

[I’m exhausted?] Harry mind-shouted, [What about YOU?]

[Harry, this is NOT about me. YOU’RE the one--]

[With all that weird magic inside of you, Ron, you’re ready to--]

[I DO NOT HAVE A DEMENTOR INSIDE ME READY TO BITE MY SOUL! THIS ISN’T ABOUT MY WEIRD MAGIC, THIS IS ABOUT--]

Harry felt that vast magic in Ron slam upward, on the verge of exploding, and he felt Ron on the verge of disappearing under its onslaught. It was so sudden, so forceful that Harry, stunned, backed off in paralyzing fear for his brother. He found himself jabbering, [Hey, okay, Ron, okay, okay. I agree, I promise. Whatever. Yeah, it’s about that snake, really, it’s just about the snake. All right, Ron? All right? Please? Ron? Huh?]

Harry felt Ron panting. He felt his own heart pounding.

He heard, distantly, Mum saying, “But if we overtax him, that might weaken the ward containing that… that….”

Harry’s attention was jerked away from Ron by feeling his mum’s fear-spike. He realized, with horror, that Mum was more terrified of saying “snake” than she was of saying, “Voldemort.” And Harry could also feel that she wasn’t the only one in his family who felt that way. “What am I doing to my family?”

Ron, now convinced that he had Harry beaten into submission, turned his meager attention back to Dumbledore, whom he saw as the next most immediate danger. He joined Hermione and Mum in giving Dumbledore their best Avada kedavra glares.

Harry shrunk back into himself in shame over the pain he was causing his family. He just wanted to hide or for everyone to go away.

Dumbledore sighed. “Molly, I am concerned that if we wait, we may not learn as much as we need to. It is, now, the second time this has happened. This time was not only more severe, but it was set off by something Harry will, most unfortunately, face again and again.”

Dumbledore paused. Harry knew that he was making no headway with the three. “Why don’t they trust him?" he thought, “And why don’t they trust me?” Harry felt his own frustration, his own frayed-anger returning.

[Harry,] Ron growled. Harry clamped down on his thoughts, but his anger, in defiance, stayed and grew.

Dumbledore continued, “We know the, uh… character of the snake, of the threat that Harry faces inside of him.” Harry felt his family’s collective shudder. “We must discover ways to better help him, and we must discover them now, while it is still fresh and we have our best and fullest opportunity. Should the next episode be worse, we may need to know not just more, but everything we can know.”

Dumbledore’s logic rolled off the three like chestnuts off a steep tin roof. Harry’s safety and Harry’s rest were, with them, firmly and irremovably linked. Avada kedavra looks stayed. Harry felt his own anger continue to rise, and he decided to speak up, to try to do something, anything to relieve their fear and stubbornness and maybe to reduce his own anger.

“I’ll be all right, guys,” he said. “Hey, I’m not alone inside, right?” He trotted out his most confident and fetching smile.

This produced no detectable changes in his protectors. It was as if Harry hadn’t spoken; none of them even bothered to look at him. With their complete ignoring, Harry’s anger began pushing, harder and harder, against his own fragile, exhausted control. He felt his brain dim, like he was sleepwalking and not quite here, yet also he felt like he was on an emotional rollercoaster -- not a stable combination.

“Molly,” Dad said, “we can trust Albus. If we’re going to protect Harry, we need to know more.”

Harry felt his mum’s temper flare to new heights, and he wondered briefly if, after only two weeks of an intact family, he was about to become a child of divorce. And even that was more charitable than the patricidal urges he felt coming from Ron.

With their flare-up, Harry felt his own control give way. Into the jagged silence, Harry let loose everything building inside of him:

“Stop it!" he shouted. "Will you all just… listen to me??”

Which he immediately regretted, as he felt the three slammed into their own fears. And Harry felt that weird magic surge even harder against Ron’s weakening control.

“Uh…, er… sorry?” Harry said wide-eyed, hoping they’d start breathing again soon, and wondering if anyone there knew mouth-to-mouth resuscitation.

“Harry,” Dumbledore chuckled, “may I assume that you have something you wish to say?”

Still wide-eyed, Harry nodded.

“Pray do so,” Dumbledore said. “You may be well-assured of our rapt attention.”

Harry didn’t know about the rapt part. But he knew he had their attention.

“Mum, Hermione, Ron, please? I know you’re trying to help me and everything, but…..” He gulped. “Professor Dumbledore’s right. I’ve got to know what’s going on inside of me. And so do you. I mean, like he said, what if next time it’s worse? Protecting me now won’t protect me then.”

Harry got up just enough nerve for a frown. “If we’re going to do this right – and we have to – we need to know more, and we need to know more now. Because now’s the best time for finding out.”

His frown slipped some. “All right?”

Gradually, reluctantly, Harry felt them come ‘round, though all three moved closer to him. He felt all of them, especially Ron, inside him and redoubling their protectiveness. They would permit this, against all their better judgements. But it was clear that if Harry came to any harm, they would, all three, start taking heads.

Harry also felt Hagrid moving Giantly into position. He turned back to the Headmaster, who was looking at him with a sad and proud smile: “I ask you, again, Harry: can you sense any of the others who came to help?”

Harry took Dumbledore’s question back into his memory and body.

“Hermione was there. And Fred and George.”

All three looked thoughtful, as if checking inside themselves for confirmation.

Harry concentrated, then said, “All of you were there, all my family. I could feel all of you inside me…. Hey? You know, I still can, like with the BondRope, maybe even a little stronger.”

Harry saw smiles around the room. Except Percy -- he was stunned.

Harry smiled at him. “Yeah, Percy. You came, too; you came right away to help me when I needed you.”

Everyone turned to Percy. “Well,” he said blushing, “You are my brother.”

Dad went over to him, put his arm around Percy’s shoulders, and smiled. “Thanks, son.”

Percy looked down and blushed even more. Harry felt in him a scared, not-quite-to-be-trusted happiness and…. “Relief,” Harry thought. “I can feel that relief in Dad, too, and Mum, and….” Harry stopped. “No, it’s more than relief. There’s magic, and I feel that magic in all my family. Like a wall's gone.”

He saw his family move toward Percy with general mumbles of, “Yeah, thanks.” “Way to go, Perce.” “Good job.” A few back pats were added. Hagrid reached over and squeezed a shoulder.

Suddenly Fred exploded: “Bloody Hell! Welcome Back, Percy!” But George beat him to the first bludger-like hug. More followed, with laughing and shouting, as Harry’s family found an outlet for their tensions in something truly happy. Percy disappeared from Harry’s sight as his family crashed in around their finally recognized prodigal-come-home. And with that, Harry felt even more magic. “It’s like I’m… the BondRope?” he thought. “Yeah, I’m the BondRope between Percy and them, the rest of my family.” He smiled and felt even more magic come into and through him.

Mum squeezed his hand. He looked over and saw her smile and tears. “Thank you, Harry,” she said. “Thank you so very, very much.”

Harry grinned. “Mum, I’ll be all right if you want to slip off the BondRope and go over.”

“Definitely not. They’re coming to us. Arthur!” she commanded, “Percy has two more family members who wish to join you! Bring him here!”

A sixteen-legged, multi-and-mostly-redheaded beast lumbered over.

Harry smiled broadly after his hug. “Thanks, Perce. Thanks for being there for me.”

Percy was in still shock, still trying to believe it was all real and going to last. “Yeah, sure, and, uh…thanks, Harry. For being part of our family. And for… for….”

Harry didn’t know how he’d say it either, but he knew what Percy meant. And Percy saw that Harry knew. So they both nodded.

Percy even smiled. Sort of.

* * * * * * * * * *

“You sensed others, Harry?” Dumbledore continued, “those who weren’t in the Burrow?”

Harry frowned and concentrated. “They’re not just a memory, sir. Like my family, I can feel them still inside me.” Harry moved into that “still-inside”, sensing, sensing.… “It’s almost like, having come… they stayed? Yeah. Like the HandBonding. Even after the BondRope is off, they’re still there.”

Harry looked at the white-haired wizard, who had closed his eyes. Harry could feel him inside, doing his own exploring. Dumbledore opened his eyes and looked at the foot of the bed to Hagrid and asked, “Do you sense them as well?”

“Aye, Professor. I can feel ‘em, too. We’re not alone n’more. I can’ explain it better. We got lots o’ company.”

“Can you sense who?”

Hagrid closed his eyes, then opened them. “No, sir.”

“Can you sense if they have… good intentions toward Harry?”

“Oh, yes, sir. On tha’, I’m positive. If I felt summat else, I would’ve blocked it straight away. I don’ know who they are, but they all have good hearts, they mean Harry well. Tha’ I know fer certain.”

The Headmaster visibly relaxed, and he even smiled. “Harry, I know you are very tired. Yet I must ask you for another effort. Can you sense who any of these others are?”

Harry summoned up his Gryffindorish determination, and he went inside once more. What he felt was still vague, but so complex, so magical, so--

“Harry,” Dumbledore gently interrupted, “now is not the time to explore how they are inside of you, though this, too, will be important. Given your limited energy, please restrict yourself to finding out who.”

Harry refocused, entering into that feeling. “There are lots of people, but most of them aren’t clear. They may even be coming in and out. A couple are very strong, though….” Harry paused. “Professor Lupin, sir. And… Neville? Yes, Neville Longbottom.”

“Good, Harry,” Dumbledore said, “very good.”

“And another one, real strong…. It’s….”

Harry goggled. “Snape?”

Into the room’s stunned silence came the Headmaster’s voice, “Oh, thank Merlin.”

Gobsmacked, Harry turned to stare, open-mouthed, at Dumbledore, who had a relieved smile.

“And Harry,” he said, “that’s Professor Snape.”

“I’ve got… Snape inside me?”

Harry knew, in his head, that having Snape inside him was safer than having a Dementor-snake. And he knew that the Snape inside him had even helped protect him. But right now, exhausted and on edge, Snape didn’t feel safe, not at all.

“Snape inside me?”

Ron, who was very much gobsmacked, too, [nodded]. Harry could feel that strange magic inside Ron stir uneasily.

Snape, bane of Harry’s life at Hogwarts. Snape had always, always found a way to Harry’s weak points, a way to anger him. Snape had always, always found a way, he always went out of his way to make Harry’s life a misery, with looks, comments, questions, punishments and power unfairly used. Snape, in Harry’s life, defined unfair, and he applied that “unfair” mercilessly. Only the Dursleys, Bellatrix and Voldemort were higher in Harry’s nightmarish pantheon.

Harry felt Ron, who was hearing Harry’s thoughts and feeling Harry’s feelings, shake himself and become alert. That strange magic began pushing Ron’s control. Harry, however, found himself swept back into his Snape thoughts.

Snape was more than bane. Most of all, Snape openly hated him, hated him. Hated him from the beginning, hated him even before there was reason to hate him. To Harry, raised in hate, desperate to finally escape hate and to flee into the world of magic, the world of his parents, the world where maybe, just maybe he could have friends, where maybe, just maybe he could do something right, where at least, if nothing else, he could hope that he wouldn’t be hated -- to Harry, finding Snape, there and grim and hating him, implacably hating him… Snape and Snape’s hate were the most crushing experience of his first year, in truth, the worst that had happened to him until Cedric's death and, last spring, at the Ministry of Magic with Sirius.

Harry would never, ever let Snape know how crushing he’d been. Harry had always faced Snape back with his own anger and defiance, and, yes, he had to admit, with his own hate, deep down. But Harry knew that Snape had made, in Harry’s wound, his own place, his own little hell of Harry-pain.

Harry knew that, like the Dursleys, like Voldemort, somehow, he’d always had Snape inside of him, inside his wound, almost as if by inheritance from his first father. But now, Snape, hating Snape was not just inside his wound, but inside the whole of him, at loose and unbuffered, maybe unbufferable. Harry felt defenseless, helpless in the most profound way.

And in that Snape at loose inside of him, Harry could not only feel the good magic and protectiveness which Snape brought. He could also feel the dark magic -- Snape’s anger, Snape’s hate. And he could feel Snape’s hate poised at Harry’s deepest, most vulnerable core, against which he had no protection.

With these thoughts and feelings -- thoughts and feelings Ron, too, felt -- Harry felt Ron’s volcano of strange magic roar to life, against and almost past Ron’s last shred of control and safety….