Getting Harry Back

Chapter 18
His Family Grows, Part II

I dress a wound in the side, deep, deep….

I am faithful, I do not give out,
The fractur’d thigh, the knee, the wound in the abdomen,
These and more I dress with impassive hand, (yet deep in my breast a fire, a burning fire.)
Walt Whitman
The Wound Dresser [3]
From Leaves of Grass, deathbed edition

Ron was appalled and beyond appalled.

“Snape’s inside Harry!”

Every one of Harry’s Snape-inflicted pains, Ron could feel them all – how bad, how deep and how immanent, though he didn’t have that word. Sure, Ron had known that Snape was bastardly and unfair to Harry, even more than to the other Gryffindors. And Ron had known that Snape got Harry all riled – anyone could see that. But until now, until he could feel Harry’s feelings and hear his thoughts, Ron hadn’t known.

“And Snape’s inside Harry!”

Ron’s knowing changed everything. Before, he’d hated Snape in his usual off-again, on-again, quick-tempered fashion. When Snape was an arse, Ron hated him. When Snape wasn’t -- which usually meant, for Ron, when Snape wasn’t around -- Ron didn’t think about him. Now Ron could feel what Snape had done to Harry. Now, too, with his keen sense of strategy, he could see what Snape could do to Harry. So now, Ron’s hate changed, running colder, deeper and nonstop.

Harry was facing that Dementor-snake and its worse-than-death bite. Snape was both inside the wound with that snake, and he was outside and at large. Snape had regularly meant Harry harm, or at least meant to fluster and lessen him. Ron could feel, inside Harry, Snape’s ongoing anger and hate. Snape could weaken Harry -- he was well-placed to do that -- and then that snake could….

Ron felt a spasm-like shudder. It didn’t get more deadly.

So Ron knew, deeply knew that he would do whatever it took to protect Harry, and that he would use all means available.

All means.

With that, everything shifted inside Ron. He was no longer trying to contain that vast, strange magic. Containing it wasn’t possible, now, anyway. Because with his knowing, Ron had merged with it, he had made it part of himself. And he was ready to use it -- oh, was he ready to use it. With Ron’s merging, with Ron’s assuming all that power, he felt… a calmness. But it was a dark calmness.

Now Harry felt his own “appalled and beyond appalled”. He was at a loss for what he could do, even though he also knew that he would do anything, anything to protect his Ron. He was chilled, horrified by Ron’s dark calm. Because he knew what it meant from the inside, from Ron’s inside.

The two boys looked at each other and said nothing. There was nothing to say. If and when the time came for action, each would do whatever they had to.

* * * * * * * * * *

Still gathered around Harry in his parent’s bedroom, which Dumbledore had magicked much larger to accommodate everyone, his family had settled down. They had absorbed the revelation that Snape had come, inside Harry, to help him, and that Snape, like the others, was still there, inside Harry. The adults seemed to think this was a good idea. For reasons infinitely beyond Harry’s understanding, Dumbledore actually seemed relieved. Harry, Ron and Hermione knew better, but in this they were alone.

With the room’s settling down, Dumbledore gently prodded a brutally weary and on-edge Harry back to checking who else was inside of him, who else had come to help.

“I can feel three really different… I don’t know,” Harry said. “It’s not just I don’t know who they are. They’re all strong, and they’re really familiar. Almost as important as you lot, even. But they just feel, or their magic feels… so different.” He sensed deeper.

“Two are more like Hagrid. One of these – it’s almost like it is Hagrid, or coming through Hagrid.” Harry went further in. “The other one -- it’s not like anything else; it’s coming from my wound. The ones like Hagrid—“

“Harry.” Harry opened his eyes and looked at Dumbledore. “We can all feel your exhaustion. Please pick one at a time, starting with the easiest. And go as gently as possible.” He patted Harry’s head, keeping his hand there, and Harry felt its warmth and a… more-than-warmth -- he felt love and other magics.

“An’ Harry,” Hagrid said, “the one that feels like it’s comin’ through me – that’s the Burrow, that’s the protection yeh have here. Yeh need not worry yerself about that one, fer now at least. We can talk on it later.”

Harry nodded. He knew which to pick. He’d had enough struggling with his wound, and he was glad to give it a rest.

“The other one like Hagrid,” he said, “it’s still here. Not just inside, but… in the room?” Harry checked again. “Yeah, in the room. And it's really familiar.”

Harry felt its familiarity -- he knew it, but knowing it was just out-of-reach. Harry relaxed and allowed it to come out more fully. Closer, closer, connecting more and more, gratefully taking in the healing and strength that it was giving so freely, so lavishly. There were these magical rhythms, like the sound of drums and dancing, and most-of-all that incredible, selfless and total giving….

Harry opened his eyes.

“Dobby,” he gasped. “He’s here in the room. Just invisible.”

Pop!

Very large eyes and ears suddenly appeared right next to Harry’s face, long fingers touching his brow. Dobby looked downright terrified.

“Is Sir requiring anything?” The house-elf swallowed. “Dobby is hoping Sir isn’t angry. Dobby is remembering that Dobby isn’t supposed to be saving Harry Potter’s life. But when Dobby is feeling Harry Potter’s need, Dobby is having to come and help, Sir. He is having to.”

“Oh Dobby, I’m not angry.” Harry smiled sadly at those scared eyes and drooping ears. “Thanks for coming to help. I mean that, I do.”

Harry checked Dobby’s presence inside. He looked questioningly at the house-elf. “You’ve come before, haven’t you?” Harry checked again, now sure and feeling on the edge of another revelation. “Lots of times. Even… before I went to Hogwarts?”

Dobby nodded uneasily. “Yes, Sir. Dobby is coming to Harry Potter whenever he is feeling Harry Potter is hurting.”

“How?” Harry was stunned. “How did you know?”

Dobby looked sadly into Harry’s eyes. “When the Dark Lord disappeared, house-elves heard that Harry Potter was sent away. We is worrying, especially after we found out how those bad Dursleys is treating Harry Potter.”

Dobby hesitated. “House-elves decided to link to Harry Potter, Sir, so we is knowing when Harry Potter is hurting. House-elves chose Dobby for linking because...." Dobby hung his head, then said in a softer voice, "...because Dobby's link to his Masters was not strong, not like it should be." Dobby lifted his head, and Harry saw him searching his face for disapproval. "Some house-elves is saying Dobby is too stuck up and Dobby is being a bad house-elf." Dobby winced slightly, then had a faint glimmer of hope in his eyes. " But Zol--" Dobby stopped himself, then started over. "But some house-elves is saying that Dobby is more independent, and that is making Dobby best for linking with Harry Potter." Dobby's eyes glistened. "Dobby is feeling very honored.”

Harry saw Dobby's pleading, and he could sense, within Dobby, the house-elf's very soul torn between his independence, and with that his pride and chosen loyalty to Harry, and a darker imposed and imprisoning shame screaming that Dobby was bad! bad! bad! He could feel not only Dobby's sense of self, but his very being, caught up in this endless internal battle.

Harry felt, too, the terrible parallels between Dobby and himself. He felt his, Harry's, own struggle for independence and self-worth, against all those years of Dursley abuse. Even after discovering the power and beauty of the magic within him, it was still a battle, an always-battle -- like Dobby, there was nonstop fighting -- Truth and Lie, Good and Evil for the possession of his soul.

"Yes, Harry Potter, Sir."

Harry looked up, startled.

"That is why Dobby is best at linking with Harry Potter."

"Linking?" he asked.

“Yes, Sir. Linking is what we house-elves is supposed to be doing with our Masters, and with other house-elves. Dobby is linking with Harry Potter.”

With that, Harry felt another mystery resolving itself, another piece of his life fitting into place. He realized that Dobby, along with Hagrid and Dumbledore, was his shelter. "Oh, Dobby," he whispered.

Wizard and house-elf looked deeply into one another. Ron, who had felt all that went on between them, crouched down and put his arms, gently, protectively, gratefully around Dobby. Then he turned and said, "Dobby's Harry's shelter, too. Like Hagrid and Professor Dumbledore. He came to him when Harry was hurt at the Dursleys."

“You were there," Harry said, "weren't you?"

"Yes. Dobby saw Harry Potter after all the beatings, and after all the other hurtings, too." Dobby looked unbearably sad. "Dobby was there, Sir. Every time."

"But… but Dobby.... How did you get away from the Malfoys? I mean… didn’t they notice? Weren’t they angry?”

“Oh, yes, Harry Potter. But Dobby is getting help from many house-elves. And Dobby is getting punishments, anyway, so Dobby isn’t minding a few more.” Dobby’s eyes glowed with pride. “Dobby is honored to be helping Harry Potter.” He swallowed, then said more softly, almost as if ashamed, “It is even helping Dobby getting through all the punishments. Dobby is knowing how much Harry Potter is needing Dobby.”

The room was perfectly still.

Harry was dazed, but he felt Dobby’s truth, he felt it down to his soul. He felt not only Dobby’s helping, he also felt Dobby’s needing Harry so that Dobby could feel that he, himself, was worthwhile. And when Dobby felt that he was worthwhile, he could get through that… that….

“Torture,” Harry thought, “and abuse. Every bit as bad as anything I ever went through, if not worse.” Harry began to sense, almost feel into Dobby, and he was shocked. “And like me -- he felt that he deserved it, what those Malfoys did to him, that he wasn’t worth anything else!”

Harry felt rage course through him, and with that rage, he felt himself drawn further into Dobby’s life, which the house-elf immediately opened for him, opened so absolutely, so completely that it felt unnervingly like a humble slave opening the door to a house that Harry owned. Worse, it felt as if he were a Master walking into his slave quarters.

Harry shuddered. "Dobby doesn't feel that he even owns his life. He feels he's owned, that I own him. Like the Malfoys.” In horror, Harry pulled back, and then felt, with even greater horror, Dobby’s shame at Harry’s pulling back. “He thinks he’s not good enough for me; he thinks that’s why I’m pulling back! Not that I don’t have the right to own him, but that… that I don’t think he’s worth owning!”

“No, Harry Potter.” Dobby spoke with the deepest honesty and respect, but also with a sense of truth, even power that Harry had felt from Dobby only one time before -- at Hogwarts when Dobby had banished Lucius Malfoy after he had threatened Harry.

Harry blinked, startled. “Dobby? Can you hear my thoughts?”

“It's part of Dobby's linking. Dobby is sad that Harry Potter is having those feelings. But those feelings are wrong, Sir, they are very wrong.”

“What do you mean, Dobby?”

“Harry Potter isn’t owning Dobby. The Malfoys owned Dobby. But Harry Potter gave Dobby freedom, and Dobby is knowing he must never, ever give it away. Even to Harry Potter.”

“Then what did I feel?”

“Dobby is giving Harry Potter his life. Giving is very different than being owned, Sir. Giving isn't a have-to. Dobby is choosing to give himself to Harry Potter.”

Harry had nothing to say, nothing to think, but a lot to feel. And in that “a lot to feel”, he could feel himself…. “House-elvish. Like I can feel Giantish. I’m… part house-elf.”

Within his house-elvish, too, he felt the house-elves’ magic of self-giving, just as strong as, and very closely related to the Giants’ magic of bonding. He could feel that here, in their self-giving and their linking, here was the house-elves’ core magic, just as bonding to land and to another was the Giants’ core magic.

“Giving our lives,” Dobby continued, “is the most important thing house-elves can do. Dobby knew that Harry Potter isn’t understanding this. But still, when Harry Potter pulled back from Dobby’s giving…..” The house-elf ‘s ears drooped. “Dobby felt ashamed. Dobby couldn’t help it, Sir, and Dobby is very, very sorry for hurting Harry Potter's feelings.”

“Dobby,” Harry Potter said, “I’m sorry for hurting your feelings, for not understanding.”

“Oh, no, Sir! Harry Potter must not be saying those—“

“Dobby,” Harry interrupted, “I have to say those words. Can’t you feel that? I have to.” Then he said more softly, but much more powerfully and magically, “Because, Dobby, your giving is important to me. And Dobby, you are even more important.”

He smiled. “You’re my family. Even though I didn’t know it, you’ve been my family almost my whole life.” Harry looked over at Hagrid and Dumbledore. “Like you, when nobody else was my family. A real family, anyway.”

They smiled. Hagrid bent down and put his large hand on Dobby’s head , and Harry could feel him Giant-bonding, just as Harry knew that he was already Giant-bonded to Dobby. He turned back to Dobby, still smiling.

Dobby was stunned. Through their link, Harry could feel that Dobby couldn’t believe that he was worth it, that he, Dobby, was worth bonding to. And Harry knew, with everything magical inside him, that Dobby needed him to share not just his thoughts and feelings. Dobby needed more. With that, Harry felt a tear go down his face. It was the first tear Harry ever remembered that didn’t bother him. He was giving Dobby what, that last day at the Dursleys, the Headmaster, his mum and dad, and Professor Lupin had given to him.

[Dobby, you need to know,] Harry mind-said. [You have a right to know. And I have to not just tell you, but to show you.]

Dobby looked at Harry’s face, his eyes larger than Harry had ever seen. Keeping his hand on Harry’s brow and so keeping the healing magic flowing, Dobby reached with his free hand to touch Harry’s tear. “Harry Potter is crying… for Dobby?”

“Yes, Dobby.” Harry smiled. “I’m crying for you.”

Dobby's lips trembled. “Dobby is remembering that Harry Potter isn’t liking Dobby crying. But Dobby isn’t knowing how to stop.”

“Harry Potter isn’t knowing how to stop either, Dobby, so I guess we’ll just have to put up with it. And Dobby?”

“Yes, Sir.”

“There’s something more I have to do.” Inside himself, Harry searched for his house-elvish, and within it, he searched for the elvish magic of self-giving. He found it, as he’d hoped, as he’d found within his Giantish the magic of Giant-bonding. He let himself go fully into that self-giving….

And Harry gave himself to Dobby.

Dobby stared at Harry, his mouth open and his eyes even wider, but he said nothing. After a minute or so, still keeping his hand on Harry’s brow, he bowed his head, with a little side turn.

Harry bowed back, also with a little side turn.

The room felt bathed in awesome, powerful, but gentle magic.

Crack!

The sound of someone Apparating just outside, so close, jolted everyone. Normally, wizards Apparated at some distance, out of politeness. Apparating close meant an emergency or, in these times of war…. Dad drew his wand, as did Bill, Charlie and Percy. Shortly, there was a sharp doorknock, followed by somewhat louder voice murmurings downstairs, and then the sound of someone coming upstairs at a bound.

Dad went to the door, Bill, Charlie and Percy right behind. Harry saw that Fred, George, Ron, Hermione and Ginny had all drawn wands, and they had moved between Harry and the door, as had Hagrid. Dobby’s finger pointed at the door. And Mum, while remaining seated and HandBonded, had drawn her wand, too. “Like Dumbledore said,” Harry thought, “she really is my right hand. They all are, all my family.”

With a jolt of fear, Harry felt Ron moving into all that strange magic, preparing himself to use it.

[Ron, please--]

Harry was interrupted as his dad opened the door, and he saw, just coming 'round the corner… an embarrassed Remus Lupin. He looked at Harry, gave him a quick smile, and then turned to Mr. Weasley. Wands were hastily put away.

Harry felt Ron back off from all that dark magic, and he felt relived. And he was also glad to see his former Professor, really glad, but… “He’s scared,” he thought, “actually scared about me. Bloody hell, one more person scared about me!” And with that thought, Harry heard-felt Ron [growl]. Harry [scowled] back.

“Hello, Arthur," Lupin said, "uh… I do apologize for my rudeness in startling you, and… I know this is undoubtedly quite silly. But an hour ago, I got a strong feeling that… well, that Harry needed me?” He rushed on. “Now, of course you and Molly can more than take care of anything that could possibly happen to Harry. And with the Headmaster here as well, I tried to ignore it. I knew it was just one of those crazy feelings that everyone gets from time to time, eh?”

He tried a smile, but it didn’t quite work and he gave it up. Harry wanted to reassure him. But even more, he wanted to have fewer people who needed reassuring. “Won’t it ever end?” he thought.

“But the more I ignored it," Lupin said, "the stronger it got.” He turned faux-robust. “So I decided to come and let you all have a grand laugh at my expense.” He tried a smile again, but it still wasn’t convincing, and it faded rapidly.

“Someone downstairs -- I think it was one of your brothers, Arthur -- he said that Harry had just had something of an episode, he called it.” Harry closed his eyes and moaned. “If you don’t mind, if I’m not intruding, I'd really like to see Harry? Mostly, of course, to congratulate him, and you, on becoming a family.”

“Remus, please,” Dad said, “it wasn’t silly at all. Molly and I are grateful that you came, and right away.”

Lupin’s face went to Harry, now on full alert. “Harry is all right, isn’t he, Arthur?”

Harry promptly winced and thought, “Oh, God!”

“Yes, I believe he is now." Still alert, Lupin turned back to Arthur, who continued speaking. “But… perhaps Albus will explain. After, of course, you’ve greeted Harry. Please come in, and you’re most welcome. Especially now, but at any time, any time at all, as I do hope you know.”

For a beat Lupin looked carefully at Arthur, then he moved briskly to the bedside. “Hello, Harry. It’s so good to see you finally having a family. It’s what we’ve all wanted for you, so very, very much.” For the first time since the wan and shabby-looking man came, Harry saw and felt a genuine smile.

With that smile, Harry felt most of his anger melt away, but not his embarrassment. He blushed and said, “Thanks, Professor—“

“Remus, Harry. Please call me Remus; I’d like that, if you would. I’m no longer your professor.”

Harry blushed again. “Sure, Prof--, er, Re-, uh, Remus.”

Harry had trouble getting his mouth to say it that first time. But he noticed that, while it felt silly that his mouth had trouble, it also felt good to say it. It felt like he was growing up. And through “Remus”, that man and that word together, Harry could feel himself moving closer to his first dad and Sirius, and closer to a man, Harry realized, he loved very much, and who loved him.

Harry’s mouth, having recovered from “Remus”, burst into a happy, lopsided smile.

The room laughed, and Harry saw Prof- --“no, Remus”, he thought -- spontaneously reach for Harry’s forearm, then stop, as he had those many years ago, when he wanted to comfort Harry but wasn’t sure. Then Harry saw Remus laugh, really laugh, and he reached over to tousle Harry’s hair, keeping his hand on Harry’s head just a moment after the tousle, obviously enjoying it.

Both knew that, in the future, Harry’s “Remus” and Remus’s hair-tousling would always be just fine.

As the room quieted, things got serious again. Harry could see and feel that Remus was still worried about him. “Thanks for coming, Remus,” he said. “I’m… I’m feeling better now….” Not knowing what to say next, but wanting to allay Remus’s fears, Harry looked at Dumbledore. Remus carefully examined Harry’s face, and then he followed Harry’s gaze to the Headmaster.

Who was looking at him thoughtfully. “Remus,” Dumbledore said, “it is, indeed, good to see you. It is good that you came, too, and I believe, even better that you felt it so necessary to come.” He smiled. “At the moment, Harry is all right. And part of why he is now all right is you.”

Remus raised his eyebrows and looked back at Harry, who nodded. Remus then returned to the Headmaster, saying, “I’m certainly pleased to have helped.” His smile was now full and genuine.

“I am quite sure you are, as are we all.” Dumbledore smiled his very best and most obvious, “I know a lot more, but I’m not going to tell you” smile. It was a smile Harry knew well, but didn’t much like. He realized, with some irritation, that old wizard was playing.

So did Remus, who, like Harry, knew that Dumbledore smile, and who also realized that, if Dumbledore was playing, any danger had passed. Remus, however, didn’t seem annoyed, just relieved. And Harry could feel him decide to play along. “I trust,” Remus said with a hint of amusement, “that I had company in my helping.”

Footsteps sounded again on the stairs.

“Oh, yes.” The Headmaster’s eyes twinkled. “Most excellent company. Everyone you see here, and more. I suspect we will be joined, shortly, by one of the more.” He turned. “Molly, at the risk of seeming presumptuous, would you be so kind as to go downstairs and tell Neville Longbottom’s grandmother that her grandson is, indeed, quite sane, and that he would be most welcome to come now, via the Floo network. Also please ask her to tell Neville that Harry is recovering nicely.” Dumbledore returned to Remus. “If you don’t mind, my explanation, poor as it is, might best wait until Neville is here, too.”

Remus gave a short head bow.

A Weasley second or third cousin appeared at the door. “Molly. Mrs. Longbottom’s in the fireplace and wants to speak with you. I told her I’d see whether you could come.”

When his mum had come back from downstairs, Harry felt Dobby's magic change. He turned to the house-elf, smiled and put his hand on Dobby’s shoulder, asking, “What happened?”

“Sometimes, when Harry Potter is hurting very bad,” the house-elf said, "Dobby is linking with other house-elves and their magics, and they is giving themselves to Harry Potter."

"You mean…." Harry was stunned by the implications. "It's not just your magic?"

"Oh, no, sir," Dobby replied. "It's always partly my magic, but all other house-elves have linked to Dobby, so when Harry Potter is needing, they can be giving themselves."

"All house-elves?" Harry asked weakly.

"Yes, sir. All."

There was silence while the room absorbed this.

Hermione went over to Mrs. Weasley and whispered. Then they both went to Dumbledore, who listened, then spoke, “Dobby, it is our wish that all house-elves who have ever, in any way, helped Harry, directly or indirectly -- all of them -- come to Hogwarts, where we will prepare a feast for them. They will be our guests.”

Dobby was shocked. “Oh, Sirs, Madams, we is not able to be doing that. We is house-elves, we is not wanting Sirs and Madams to be serving us.”

“Dobby?”

Heads turned to Harry.

“Please come. As a favor to me? I want to meet you all.” Harry checked inside. “I think it might even make me stronger. Can you feel that?”

Dobby looked away and concentrated, then he looked back at Harry and nodded, stunned.

“Please?” Harry repeated.

Dobby spoke with great seriousness. “Because it is helping Harry Potter, every house-elf is coming. When every house-elf is knowing this, they will want to come very much.”

The room filled with smiles.

* * * * * * * * * *

Neville came rushing and stumbling up the Burrow’s stairs, somehow managing to hang onto two largish plants in bloom.

When he entered, all he saw was Harry. He went directly to the bed and looked earnestly at Harry for a moment. Then he raised his eyebrows and said, “Harry? Are you... all right? Really?”

Harry blushed. “Yeah, Neville. I think I am. Er...." He blushed even more. "Thanks for coming. I’m… I'm really sorry I worried you.”

Neville relaxed and gave a small smile. “That’s fine, Harry. I’m just glad that….” Neville tensed a little, swallowed, then shrugged.

[What am I doing to my friends?] Harry moaned.

Ron [growled].

[Ron. It’s not that I’m not grateful,] Harry answered. [But I just wish there were another way. I mean, it seems so bloody unfair to you lot. Don't you understand?]

A frayed and exhausted Ron still [growled], and made it quite clear that he wasn’t understanding and that he wasn’t going to understand anything but protecting Harry. And the more, the merrier.

“And we,” Dumbledore said suddenly, interrupting Neville’s earnest staring, “are most grateful that Harry did worry you, Neville.”

Neville jerked around and took in, for the first time, who was there -- a lot of older and important people. He froze. His mouth came open, but nothing came out.

“Welcome, Neville,” Mum said, “We’re so glad that you came, and that you felt Harry needing you. He did, you know.”

Neville’s neck and open mouth stayed frozen, but his eyes darted around, still unsure about being so... noticed.

Mum continued. “And thank you for bringing these lovely flowers, dear.”

Neville looked at the plants, first one, then the other, as if realizing for the first time that he was carrying them. He blushed furiously. “Oh, that’s nothing, Mrs. Weasley. These plants are Sanafloria fragriosa. They’re really good at helping people feel better.”

Harry noticed that the plants weren’t helping Neville feel better, but he reckoned maybe that was a different kind of feeling better.

“Here,” Mum said, “let me take them and put them by Harry.”

“If you don’t mind, Mrs. Weasley, I’ll do it. They’re stronger if you put them down in a special way.” Neville went over – suddenly changed, concentrated and purposeful – and he set them on Harry’s bedside table, arranging them just so. Then he gently stroked all the plant stems, cupped his hands on each bloom, and blew on them. Immediately, the room filled with a beautiful scent. Everyone simultaneously breathed deeply, and they felt warmth and comfort flowing through their bodies. It was like a little springtime.

The room broke into applause.

Neville blushed even more furiously.

Weak and exhausted, Harry closed his eyes, feeling all his conflicting thoughts and emotions about his expanding family. He hated the fuss, the attention and the problems; all he wanted to do was just quietly fit into his family and enjoy it, the first real family he’d had for fifteen years. And he hated even more all the pain and fear he was causing his family. “It seems like I’m always hurting or scaring them.” That he hated more than anything.

But he was more grateful than he could say, because… “They love me,” he thought with wonder, “they really do, I can feel it. And it feels so incredibly good to have my own home and my own family, and to be loved.”

It was like his best dream and his worst nightmare coming together.

And he was grateful that the vast, dangerous magic inside Ron had settled down. Maybe if they could get a good night’s sleep, he and Ron could talk about it and work out a way to handle it. Right now, Harry knew that he and Ron were far too tired to talk, much less to handle anything, let alone something so huge and explosive. But it finally, finally seemed as if the day’s excitement had passed.

Harry took another breath of the Sanafloriae fragiosae and felt himself relax.

* * * * * * * * * *

“DAMN!”

Alone in his rooms at Hogwarts, Snape could give full vent to his fury.

“I will not, I will not Apparate to that wretched boy, no matter how strong that feeling is. I will not degrade myself, I will not become a nanny checking to see whether that insufferable Potter brat has been properly tucked in!”

Having made that decision, Snape marched to his bookshelf, picked out a book and sat down. After several minutes, not a single page had been turned. But Snape’s pale coloring had been turning nicely, turning into something quite florid. And the look on his face would have curdled the most stable potion.

With horror, Snape felt his resolve crumbling. Nothing, nothing stayed firm when faced with that outrageous feeling. Snape even felt cravings for a drink, though he had foresworn alcohol years and years ago, after….

“I will not go into those memories, either,” he ordered himself. “I will not.”

He forced himself back to his book, immersed in an outward resolve that would have readily convinced any onlookers.

“But,” after several more minutes, he had to admit, “not that feeling.” Resolves were having a tough day in Snapeland. He took a deep breath, which failed to have any calming effect whatsoever.

“All right.”

He looked up from his book at nothing in particular.

“ALL RIGHT!”

The magic in the stone walls shook. The reading light winked out. Snape glared at it.

“Apparently, if I am to have even a modicum of peace, nothing but total and abject abasement will serve.”

He picked up his wand, stood and closed his eyes. Finding no peace there, he announced to the empty room, “I’m going.” He paused, then said, “I’m going, I’M GOING!”

Snape strode out of his rooms, out of the Castle and toward the edge of the grounds and the end of the anti-Apparition wards, leaving in his wake a trembling hushedness and an odor of sulfur. Or at least of something burning.

* * * * * * * * * *

The two friends perched on the headboard above a weak and shaky-exhausted Harry. Hedwig mind-spoke to Fawkes:

[WELL? Harry’s on the brink, as is Ron. And with Snape coming….] She ruffled her wings in uneasiness, but she never took her eyes off Harry.

[Yes, I know,] Fawkes replied. [The timing is edgy.]

[Edgy?]

[All right, Hedwig, all right,] the phoenix conceded. [The timing is dreadful.]

[Dangerous, I’d say,] the owl snapped.

[Yes, I agree. I’d better warn Albus. I doubt if he sees--]

[He sees nothing,] Hedwig interrupted, [as you know full well.]

Fawkes sighed. [You’re right, of course. So—]

Crack!

[Too bloody late again. You and your vaunted sense of timing. We’re in for it.]

The scarlet phoenix became a shade more scarlet, which Hedwig recognized as blushing.

[Yes, old girl, I’m afraid that you’re indeed right,] the phoenix said. [We’re in for a spot of excitement.]

[Excitement?]

[Call it what you like, then,] the phoenix snarled, [but there’s damn-all we can do about it now.]

Hedwig’s mental language descended into unprintabilities about the fundamental defects of sodding phoenixes.

Dies irae, dies illa,
Day of wrath, that day,
Solvet saeclum in favilla….
When the ages are dissolved into tiny sparks that become whisps of ash.(1)
Dies irae, sequence
probably Thomas of Celano (d. 1256)
Requiem mass, Mass of the Dead