Getting Harry Back

Chapter 20
Wild Magic

Into this wilde Abyss,
The Womb of nature and perhaps her Grave,
Of neither Sea, nor Shore, nor Air, nor Fire,
But all these in thir pregnant causes mixt
Confus’dly, and which thus must ever fight,
Unless th’Almighty Maker them ordain
His dark materials to create more Worlds…
John Milton
Paradise Lost, Book II

It was twilight now, a magical time, and Dumbledore had everyone’s attention. He looked around the magicked-larger bedroom, his eyes sad and worried. He pressed his lips together for a moment. All were ready for his “explanation” of what had happened to Harry. He sighed, then began.

“Several major changes, I believe, are happening simultaneously. First, because of the events around Sirius’s death, the old balances and protections inside Harry have greatly altered. The defenses which Hagrid, Dobby and the house-elves, in particular, have offered, while still important, are unable to shelter him from his now much-larger wound and all that is inside it.”

Harry and his family shifted uneasily.

Dumbledore continued. “This wound has contained much of the trauma and dark power that Harry has had inflicted upon him. While not all of it is, quite yet, loose and at large, it is becoming increasingly liable to outbreak, especially in response to events of the war. More -- this darkness appears to be growing. Of particular concern, naturally, is that snake, the Dementor-snake which, apparently, concentrates the powers Voldemort left inside Harry – loveless rage and hate, as well as other, even darker powers. Powers that I can feel but, frankly, that I do not fully understand.”

A shudder went around, first at the snake’s mention, then at the Dark Lord’s name. Harry flinched not at the names, but at the room’s shudders.

“This wound,” Dumbledore said, “is also a source of…. Well, at this point, all I am prepared to say is that it has considerable powers of good magic, too. But most urgent….”

The Headmaster paused, looking at Harry, his face even sadder and more serious. "While, as I said, I do not fully understand these growing powers, their magic has an unmistakable quality, a magical signature, if you will. It is not only rapidly growing -- Hagrid and I can both feel that, and I suspect, so can Harry." Harry reluctantly nodded. "It has the feel of Voldemort's magic. So--" Dumbledore overrode the gasps. “--I suspect, Harry,” he said more slowly, “that your wound is where you may soon begin your next confrontation with Voldemort.”

For almost a minute, the room was frozen by those words. Once Harry’s mind cleared, his stomach and heart fell, and he thought, “What am I going to do? What the hell am I going to do?” He felt as helpless as when—

Harry felt a hand on his shoulder, and he looked up at his father. “Harry, I know from talking with Molly and Ron, that they’re inside you stronger than I am. As soon as you’re rested, we’ll start working so I can join them. Fully.”

Harry smiled, feeling not quite relief, but enormous gratitude. “Thanks, Dad. Thanks a lot.”

“Harry.” He looked over at Remus, whose face was stern. “I believe I speak for everyone here when I say that we all intend to join you inside, fully join you.” Heads nodded. Harry gave a great sigh and he smiled again.

“Harry Potter, Sir?”

“Yes, Dobby?”

“If you is fighting the Dark Lord, Sir, then we house-elves is fighting the Dark Lord. Only we is not knowing how. So we is wanting you to please teach us, Sir?”

“If I may,” Dumbledore said. “I would like to complete the survey of who is helping inside you, Harry. I believe you mentioned that there were more, and that some were coming from your wound.” He looked at Harry and smiled, though his eyes stayed sad and worried. “Given what I have said, you can see how important it may be to learn as much as possible about the help, especially that coming from within your wound. Do you feel up to checking?”

“I’ll try, sir.” Harry looked around at his family. “And thanks, all of you. Thanks for everything.”

Harry’s family made small, comforting noises as they moved closer to the bed. Mum stayed HandBonded, and she moved inside Harry even more strongly. Harry felt Ron join Ron&Harry, accompanied, in a special way, by Hermione. Dumbledore and Hagrid formed his shelter, and Harry could feel Dobby again pouring in his magic. There was a rustle of wings, and Hedwig flew down beside him, once more side-stepping until she touched him with her wing while she fixed him with her eyes. He smiled at her, gave her his finger to nip, and then looked back at the Headmaster.

“Are you ready, Harry?” Dumbledore asked.

Harry nodded, then closed his eyes and, for a moment, just took them all in, drawing strength from their magics and loves.

“[You go near that wound, I go with you,]” Ron spoke inside and out.

Harry smiled, saying and mind-saying, “[Sure, Ron.]” He could feel that vast magic inside Ron stir. But this time, he felt it not pushing but waiting, waiting and alert. While Harry was still uneasy about it, he reminded himself, "Ron survived; Ron didn’t get hurt. And," he had to admit, “if that magic were inside me, I’d use it for him.”

“I’m also going with you, Harry,” his mum said quietly but no less firmly.

“Thanks, Mum,” he said.

He now felt Hagrid and Dumbledore moving right to the wound’s edge, giving as massive a protection as possible, and a place to hide, should he need it. Harry felt Dobby giving himself to him. Harry head-bowed, with that slight twist, and in return, gave himself to Dobby. At more of a distance, Harry felt… “All my family,” he thought.

Then Harry, Mum and Ron, together, moved closer to the wound, Mum and Ron following Harry’s lead. Just before the edge and staying close to his shelter, Harry stopped and opened himself up to the energy flowing out from his wound. Again, he felt it as very familiar, as familiar as Hagrid. And he sensed the love and….

“Harry.” Dumbledore interrupted him, his hand back on Harry’s head. “Please? For now, just find out who.”

Harry nodded and opened himself up even more, letting that energy, that magic flow into him. This felt even older than Hagrid, a magic going back to his very beginnings….

Harry opened his eyes. “My first mum and dad. And Sirius. I can feel them. Coming from my wound, but… through the veil. And,” he checked again, then blurted unbelievingly, “there are others!”

* * * * * * * * * *

“We need to tell him, Arthur.”

“I agree, Molly, I agree.” Arthur Weasley looked thoroughly dazed. “I suppose it’s a good thing,” he conceded, “that Ron hasn’t lost those powers after all. But….”

Molly, looking equally dazed, nodded her agreement to Arthur’s “But….”

Sitting side-by-side on their bed, now alone in their bedroom -- Harry and everyone else were in their own bedrooms -- the two stared at one another, each hoping that the other had an answer they didn’t have. Finally Arthur spoke:

“Wild magic, Molly. All of it. Wild magic!”

“And there’s Harry, too,” Molly said. “After what the Headmaster told us. Not just about that snake, but now with Harry’s connection to Ron and with Harry’s magical gifts, they’re both….”

Looking, if possible, even more dazed, Arthur nodded his agreement to Molly’s “they’re both….”

* * * * * * * * * *

“…Mum? …Dad?”

Neville had waited until he was alone. Now in his small bedroom, which Dumbledore magicked onto the Burrow – Neville had refused to leave Harry so long as Snape was around, and Snape, too, had stayed. – Neville was pouring everything into his search.

“I know it was you. I know it. This wasn’t my magic getting freed or stronger. And this wasn’t Harry’s magic, either. Even though it came from that spark, it wasn’t Harry’s magic. I know how that feels, and this felt… different. This felt like….”

Neville stopped, feeling awe and a deep, gnawing hunger.

“Like you.”

When Neville had felt Harry in pain, Harry in danger, for the first time since that Harry-spark came, he’d been completely focused away from his parents. Everything, everything that was in Neville – all his newly-freed magic and confidence – was Harry-focused, Harry-protective. There were no thoughts of anything else, not his parents, not even that this was Professor Snape who had haunted and terrorized him throughout his time at Hogwarts. For Neville there was only Harry and knowing that Harry was in danger and that he, Neville, had to protect him.

When he faced Snape, he stood there and knew, he knew that he would make Snape understand that he must not, no, that he would not hurt Harry. And then….

“I could hear you; I could hear your voice, Mum, and yours, too, Dad. I know it was you! And you told me….”

No, they didn’t tell him. Yes, he heard them, yes, it was their voices -- it was! -- but….

“There weren’t any words. It was like… you were singing magic to me. Singing! Without words. And then… somehow you connected with my eyes, your eyes with my eyes together, and those flames came….”

They gave him those flames, his parents did -- their magic was those flames. Their magic. It came through that Harry-spark, and it came through Neville’s eyes, but it was neither Neville’s magic nor Harry’s. “It was yours, I know it was; it was your magic! And you stayed there, as long as I was focused on protecting Harry, as long as I needed you.”

But when his need stopped, when his focus left Harry….

“You disappeared. Then you were gone, gone. Why? And where are you?”

Now fully-connected with that Harry-spark inside him, Neville searched and called:

“Mum? Dad?”

But after many, long night hours, after all the considerable magic and focus and intensity that Neville could muster, there was still only his own voice, there was still only his own magic. And, of course, Harry’s. Yet Neville could also sense…. “Almost like I can feel, or I can smell or taste that you were here. I know you were here, Mum, Dad. I know you were here!”

Neville lay awake, searching and calling, searching and calling until first light when, exhausted, he finally gave in to sleep. Clutching the memory of his parents’ magic, of their wordless singing, Neville, in the dreams which came quickly, was searching and calling, searching and calling….

And just as his dreams and even his dream-consciousness faded away, just as he let go of his dream-searching and passed beyond awareness, he found….

* * * * * * * * * *

Morning, bright summer morning, even though it was also late summer and there were fewer bird songs to help out with the brightness. Still, the sun shone and the air lacked any hint of autumn, though all could feel summer getting stretched and drawing to a close.

Mum, as usual, had just outdone herself with breakfast, an early breakfast. Dumbledore had asked everyone to meet with him again, before that day’s installment of family and friends arrived for Harry’s community bonding week. The family, now Harry’s extended family with Hermione, Remus, Dobby, Neville and Snape, lingered at the table, enjoying their last crumbs and bits of food, their last quarter cups and dregs of tea. Their casualness didn’t quite mask the underlying uneasiness about yesterday and about whatever Dumbledore planned to spring on them.

The old wizard forced a small cough to gain attention, bringing everyone to alert. His face was serious, though not so sad. “There is something more, this time about Ron.” He turned. “Molly, Arthur, as we discussed last night, I think it is time to tell him.”

Mum and Dad looked a bit concerned, but after some hesitation and exchanged glances, they both nodded.

Harry saw that Ron looked cowed. He could sense, as could Hermione, not only Ron’s exhaustion from the previous day, but also his [fear]. Both got up to stand next to Ron, who was still seated. Hermione put her hand on Ron's shoulder. After a short pause, Neville, too, got up and stood behind the trio. Harry put himself completely and protectively in Ron&Harry. [If this gets too much, you will let me know and I will stop it. Right?]

Ron [nodded]. [Thanks.] Harry could feel that Ron had no doubt that he, Harry, would stop whatever Ron wanted stopped, and that Hermione and Neville would help. Harry felt, within himself and drawn from the world, magic at-the-ready. He also felt Hermione and Neville just as ready. He was glad that Ron wasn’t fussing about who was protecting whom, here, which told him how on edge Ron truly was.

“Ron," Arthur said, "when young wizards and witches first show signs of magic, they’re tested. And these tests are repeated, from time to time, as they grow up, even into their first years of wizard schooling, this as part of general check-ups with the Healer. They're done without you're knowing because... well, many children, you see, become daunted or discouraged. And frankly, the tests give only general guidelines and are sometimes inaccurate, which is why they're repeated."

Ron was very concentrated and still nervous. He and everyone else knew that this had to do with that explosion of strange magic.

"The tests," Arthur continued, "measure three types of magic. One is the magic within the youngster. Another is the magic the youngster can draw from the world. And third, the most difficult-to-interpret, is Ancient Magic.”

Arthur looked back at Molly and smiled, both clearly enjoying a good, shared memory. He turned back to Ron. “You showed magic in your first year, fairly young, as most children don’t show until at least three or four. But much more than that, you did quite well in drawing magic from the world, and even better with Ancient Magic. But on magic within….”

He stopped and took a breath.

“You were one the most powerful young wizards tested in a long time, as high as the very best.”

Harry, Hermione, Neville and his siblings were all beaming with pride and delight. Ron was stunned.

“But….” Ron mouth-stumbled, then restarted. “But Harry, and Hermione… they’re a lot better at magic than I am. They have to be.”

Arthur looked at Dumbledore, who said, “Again, as we discussed, I recommend that you tell Harry, too. This before going on with Ron.”

He nodded and looked back at Molly, who put her arm around him and encouraged him with her eyes. He then turned to Harry and smiled. “Son, you, too, showed signs of magic in your first year, and you were also tested, actually tested twice before your first parents died. These early tests showed you quite strong on magic within and, as with Ron, even stronger in Ancient Magic. When you arrived at Hogwarts, your tests in these two areas were consistent.”

He took a deep breath. “On drawing magic from the world, though, in those earliest tests….” He paused and smiled even more. “You scored so high as to be virtually untestable.”

Now it was Harry’s turn to be stunned while his family beamed.

His father looked sad. "Those results, however, were not borne out when you arrived at Hogwarts. We wondered if those early tests -- and the earlier the test, the more likely it's inaccurate -- were overly positive. We suspect, now…." Dad stopped, and Harry saw his face become angry. "Given the Dursleys, you withdrew from that part of your magic, or more precisely, from your sensitivity to magic in the world. We believe you withdrew to protect yourself from what was around you."

Harry felt anger in his family. "Does that mean…." He faltered. "Does that mean I lost that magic, that I don't have it any more?" Harry felt Ron, Hermione and Neville touching him.

"We wondered, Harry," Mum said. "Obviously, we were worried. But…." She stopped and looked over at Dumbledore. "Headmaster, why don't you speak about this. Your sense is better than anyone's."

Dumbledore smiled. "Harry, while I am not a Healer and I have not been testing you formally, you understand how deeply I know you. And I have always felt that…. Well, that those magical abilities were still within you. Hard to say how, but my sense of this has been strong, very strong. And now, since your coming into a family again, I have no doubt. What I felt in you as a baby, I feel again, and even more powerfully. Harry, you still have those great gifts. With everything you are doing now, with all the magic I feel coming from you and through you, in this, I am absolutely certain."

Harry took a big, relieved breath, and he looked around to see his family smiling. Hermione squeezed his hand; Ron and Neville patted him on the back. He smiled shyly, hopefully, gratefully, feeling the magic they gave him so abundantly. "My family," he thought. "I reckon that… well, that they're my magic, that I get my magic from them, from their love."

The Headmaster looked over at Hermione, and included her in his smile. "Ron mentioned your powers, Hermione. While you were not tested until you came to Hogwarts, it is clear that you, too, are very strong in all three magics." He chuckled. "I am quite sure that is no surprise to anyone."

The family laughed and Hermione blushed.

"But magical power," Dumbledore said, "is not only a matter of native gifts, however great, however small Magical power -- Magic, as it lives in reality, not potentiality -- is what you choose to do with the magic, what you make of the magic that was given to you." He smiled his broadest smile. "And there, Hermione, we all know that you are an extraordinary young woman -- a model of the very best that we can become."

The room broke into small applause, while Ron and Harry gave her some little hand-squeezes and some very big smiles. In return, she gave them her reddest blushing, not knowing where to look. “Almost as good as Weasley blushing,” Harry noted.

As the applause died away, Ron asked, a bit hesitantly, “Sir? You talked about needing to say this before going on with me?” Harry caught Ron’s renewed fears, and he went back to alert and protecting, again joining Ron&Harry. Both he and Hermione moved closer to Ron, as did Neville.

The Headmaster looked at Mum and Dad and raised his eyebrows.

“Ron,” Mum began gently, “when you were first tested? Those results were the same for several years.” Her eyes now looked sad and worried. “Until Greg.”

Harry felt shame surge out of Ron’s wound and roar through his brother. Harry reckoned that he knew who Greg was.

“Stop!” he shouted as he threw his inside "self" into Ron&Harry and into Ron’s shame. Instinctively, he called and drew on the abundant love for Ron all around, weaving that love so densely, so vibrantly and completely throughout Ron's shame that it had no place to escape or hide. This began transforming that shame into deeply-loved hurt. As with Harry, when he had joined with his family and was finally able to grieve Sirius, so now Ron finally began grieving all those hurts, not in shame but in love -- in their close-twinned love, in the abundant love of his family, in the rich love of Hermione.

Suddenly, Harry felt a blast of horror, then terror. Though staying with Ron’s shame, a small part of him flowed up to see through Ron’s eyes. He got quite a sight. He saw Hermione and Neville struggling to hold up his, Harry's body, which had buckled and slumped onto the floor. For a moment, Harry just stared. Then he realized that he’d entirely gone into Ron, and equally entirely, he’d left his own body.

“Wonder how I did that?” he thought.

[What the--] he heard Ron say, followed by a blast of [terror]. [Harry?] Ron's voice quivered a bit. [You… all right?]

[Yeah, Ron. I… I think so.]

[I mean, I really appreciate your help and all, but… maybe you ought to get back to….] Harry felt Ron [shudder], then heard him say, [You know, mate, even with the twinning… this is just too weird.]

Not wanting to leave Ron&Harry-in-Ron yet, Harry said, [Yeah, I know what you mean. Don’t quite know how I did that. I’ll go back, I promise, but…. Hey, can you tell them I’m okay? And that I’ll be, uh… back soon?]

[Yeah, right. Like they’re going to believe me. Or that I even know what to say.]

[Oh,] Harry said, [I see what you mean. But… could you give it a try?]

Ron [shrugged], then said, “Mum, Dad, uh…. Harry’s all right, really. At least we think so.” A part of Harry was still looking through Ron’s eyes, and he saw that Ron’s words hadn’t helped much. But Ron plowed bravely ahead. “He’s just left there, you know, his uh… body. And he’s sort of….” Harry felt Ron blush. “In me?”

Harry could see that his family was startled and confused, and not quite ready to let go of their horrified. He got an idea. [Ron? Can I use your voice for a bit?]

Harry felt Ron [grin], then say, [Harry, having you for a mate and a brother… well, let’s just say it’s always interesting. But hey, what the hell. Give it a go.] Ron’s grin felt very good. That grin meant, to Harry, that Ron was better. [You know how to do that?]

[Not sure, but I’ll try.] Harry, somehow, transformed Ron’s voice, and spoke as Harry-in-Ron, which came out as a kind of blend of Ron and Harry. “Er... hi, everybody. Can you hear that it’s me? I’m really all right. I think.”

The room careened way beyond stunned and into gobsmacked.

Ron couldn’t hold back, so the laughing was an even messier mix of Ron and Harry. As with his grin, Ron’s laugh felt good to Harry.

Harry-in-Ron continued, “If you’re going to talk about Greg, I’m staying right here. Ron needs me.”

There was an extended silence while everyone took this in. “Harry?” His mum’s voice quavered. “Are you positive that’s… safe?”

“I'm all right, Mum, I promise. Besides--” Harry-in-Ron sounded as determined as just-Harry ever did. “--Ron needs me. Here.”

Mum, still gobsmacked, nodded, though she clearly wasn’t quite sure what, or even who, she had just nodded to. She reached back for Dad, who appeared every bit as gobsmacked and unsure.

The twins, however, had recovered and were looking properly awestruck and jealous.

“Damn,” George swore reverently.

Fred: “How come we…”

George: “Never thought of that.”

Harry-in-Ron said, “We’ll teach you later. I think. Sorry, but I have to go.”

Harry flowed back into Ron&Harry-in-Ron. As Ron’s shame kept easing into loved-hurt, he felt Ron’s fear about Ginny emerge from inside of Ron’s wound. Harry entered Ron’s wound and, as he had with Ron’s shame, he wove himself and his family and Hermione completely into that fear. But as he started weaving, he got a surprise. [Ron? You never told anybody about Ginny, did you? Except me?]

He felt Ron’s [embarrassed, nod].

[Er... why?]

[Blush. Not sure. It… never came up?]

[Ron?]

Harry felt Ron [squirm], then plead, [Well….]

[Don’t you think… maybe they should know? I mean, maybe Ginny even has a right to know? No offense, mate, but… sometimes, with Ginny, you can get a bit… well…. And she can get really corked off at you. Hey? It might help her understand?]

Ron [SQUIRMED].

Instantly, Harry stopped questioning and firmly said, [Whatever you want, that’s what we’ll do. And whatever you don’t want, that’s what we won’t do. Got that?]

Harry felt Ron’s [embarrassed-but-relieved nod].

[Sure you got that?]

[small smile. Yeah.]

Harry checked through Ron, who screamed indecision. Then he said, [And whatever time you need, you’ve got that, too. Hear?]

[Bigger Smile. Yeah. And… thanks.]

Harry went back into Ron&Harry, with no pushing, with no time-sense, but with a whole lot of protectiveness. He gave Ron all the bonding he could, from him, from his family, from Hermione. As far as Harry was concerned, that was enough. He could stay here forever. “And,” he thought firmly, “I’m prepared to keep everyone off, also forever.”

As he waited, Harry found himself naturally, even uncontrollably reaching out, like he had reached out to his family. Only now, he was reaching out to the magic of his home, the Burrow – the trees and flowers, the earth and everything growing on it. As before, he felt himself reaching out, “to get them to love me.” And he felt, flowing into him, magics from all around – Hedwig and Fawkes, the sun and birds and everything that flies, even the ghoul in the attic, the gnomes in the garden, and a boggart hiding in a hollow tree in the woods. He felt their mild surprise as he gently called their magics, their loves. Harry felt such a mix of giving and receiving that he felt these two not as opposites or two sides of one galleon. Giving and receiving were so woven together that they became one, each magnifying the other. The more receiving, the more giving.

The boggart, especially, had drawn Harry in a strange way. “I can feel its darkness – not dark-dark, but still….” Yet as he pulled back, “I feel a… disappointment?” He checked his bond with the boggart, and found that it was stronger than disappointment. “I feel a yearning, even a grasping. And I can feel myself called back to reaching out, to touching its magic and….” Harry felt himself touching beyond its magic’s dark exterior, touching deep into something more. “A kind of heart-jewel,” he thought. “A light, there at the center, under all its dark changing-skin. And as I touch that…”

Again from the boggart, Harry felt a surge, a reaching back, a wanting to give. And in its giving, somehow there was more light from that heart-jewel, from the source of the boggart’s giving, “a light it not only gives to me, but….” Harry frowned. “It’s almost like it’s giving light, through me, back to itself, as if….” He frowned again. “As if I found its love – not just for me and for Ron, but also… for the boggart itself.”

With that, he felt through his boggart bond, a seismic shift. And as Harry let himself feel into that shift, he realized, “Now it doesn’t reach for and reflect my fears, but…..” Harry shook his head, hardly able to believe. “It reaches for my love and my hopes, and it becomes their shape.”

“Again, it’s like I’m the BondRope.” Harry now felt this changed-boggart reach through him and into Ron, becoming in Ron’s heart and mind, not his terrors, but his dreams. With the boggart's dream-shifting, Harry felt Ron shift, too, and come into his decision, based not on his shame and his fear, but on his hopes and his love and his being loved.

[You’re right, Harry,] Ron said. [I need to tell Ginny. She deserves to know why I’ve been acting… you know, so weird all the time about her boyfriends and stuff.]

Harry smiled, and he found himself drifting back into his body, though staying with Ron&Harry. As he sat up from the floor and looked through his own eyes, he felt his family’s collective sigh of relief. “See?” He smiled impishly as he got to his feet. “Told you I’d be all right. And,” he said, turning to his twin, “Ron has something to say.”

Harry knew that while Ron’s hurt would be there, it was now truly a well-loved hurt; Ron’s shame was healed. “Partly healed by a boggart,” he wondered. And inside himself, Harry could feel his own sort-of healing, his own magic coming even more into its own. "It's like Ron and my family, and even the boggart -- that's my magic. It's not just their giving me magic but…. Together, we're the magic I'm meant to be."

And with that, coming from his wound, Harry felt the most profound "yes" and music that he had ever heard.

Hedwig bobbed her head and hooted, a great owl-hoot of joy.

* * * * * * * * * *

Ron received his family’s affirmations and catcalls -- hugs, pats, punches and little shoves, maybe from the twins more than little shoves. He'd also received Ginny’s outraged scoldings. Harry saw that Ron knew he’d earned that. “She’s a lot like Mum,” Harry thought again, and he felt Ron [agree]. Then he saw Dad looked at Ron, and his eyes took on some worry.

“Ron, there’s something more. After Greg, all that magic didn’t go away, like we'd thought until yesterday." He paused. "It appears that….” He hesitated, looked back at Mum, then returned to Ron. “It appears that it became… wild magic.”

Ron was wary – Harry could see and feel that. Ron asked, “Wild magic?”

Dad turned to the Headmaster, who said, “Wild magic is a special type of Ancient Magic. All magic began with Ancient Magic; in a way, Ron, much of Ancient Magic was wild magic. It was only after many, many centuries, probably longer, that we learned how to ‘tame’ it, as it were. That, in fact, is the purpose of magical education as we have at Hogwarts. To help young witches and wizards learn to control, to direct and to differentiate the wild magic at their disposal.”

Ron frowned. “Differentiate?”

“Yes, Ron, ‘differentiate’. That means keeping the types of magic separate, distinct. Here, when I say 'types of magic', I mean at the most basic, the most fundamental and vital level – differentiating between dark and light magic. Wild magic, you see, tends toward an undifferentiated blend of dark magic and light.”

Harry felt Ron’s fear, and they both felt that vast magic stirring, what they now knew was wild magic. Both he and Hermione, again, moved in right next to Ron. Ron said, “You mean… all this inside of me is… kind of dark magic?”

“Yes and no, Ron,” he answered. “Yes, in that all wild magic contains dark elements, a blend of light and dark magic. So part of that magic is, indeed, dark. But no, that magic cannot be said to be dark. For dark magic, as we teach you to recognize it, comes in a relatively distinct form. And all that magic within you is also filled with good magic.”

“Then….” Ron stopped. Harry could feel Ron struggling and dreading to understand. “Then how do I know…. Like you say, in Defense Against Dark Arts, we’re taught about dark magic, and we’re told not to use it. But with all this magic in me…. you’re saying that it’s both dark and light magic." Harry could see and feel Ron's fear. "How do I know whether I’m using light or dark magic?”

Harry moved thoroughly into Ron&Harry, holding Ron's fear. Hermione put her hand on Ron's arm, squeezed, and kept it there. Neville sensed what was going on -- perhaps through Harry -- and he put his hand on Ron's shoulder.

Dumbledore said, “You have correctly identified the problem, Ron. And that is a problem we will be teaching you during the rest of your time at Hogwarts. Your time, and Harry’s, I might add.”

Harry nodded. He’d expected this; somehow, he’d known, and known very deeply.

“You see,” Dumbledore said, “because of your twinning, and because of the special nature of your gifts and Harry’s, your magics are so intertwined as to fill Harry, too, with the wild magic.”

“So,” Harry said, “Ron’s not the only one with wild magic.”

“No, Harry,” Dumbledore said, “he is not. Because of the abundance, even over-abundance of Ron’s wild magic, and because of your unusually close link – a near two-become-one – Ron’s wild magic is also yours. And more.”

Harry thought for a moment about Dumbledore's "and more". Then he put into words what, before, he had only wordlessly known. “I don’t just take magic from others, I give them magic, too. I’ve been feeling that since I got my family. So everyone close to me, and everyone I draw magic from, I give them that wild magic, don’t I?”

Dumbledore smiled wryly. “Yes, Harry, that is correct. Your greatest magic -- the power to draw from and give to others and the world -- that didn't become wild magic because it's not, strictly speaking, 'your' magic. In a way, it comes from others. But since that gift was so long suppressed, you didn't learn how to screen the magic around you, either in what you take or in what you give. And even if you had learned, being so close to Ron's powerful wild magic, I am not sure whether you would have been able to screen that. So in a way, you spread wild magic.”

“So….” Harry continued -- not wanting to, yet knowing he needed to. “I’m spreading dark magic.” He looked at Hermione, at his mum and dad, at the others. “Especially to my family. I keep giving them -- no, it’s like I keep infecting them with dark magic, right?”

“No, Harry." Dumbledore was firm. "As I said to Ron, wild magic is an undifferentiated blend of dark and light magics. It is most definitely not dark magic. Nor would I say it as you just did – ‘infecting’. Remember, I am on the receiving end of a great deal of what you give. Please believe me, Harry, you give nothing, nothing without also and always giving love. And that love buffers much of whatever is dark."

The Headmaster looked at Harry with sad eyes, eyes that knew, once again, that Harry had another burden placed on his small, young shoulders. “But to be completely honest, in a way, yes, you do. Or more precisely, you spread the problem, and the potentials -- never forget that, Harry, the potentials -- of wild magic to others, especially to your family.”

Harry felt anger rising within him, an anger he now recognized as linked to the wild magic, the dark-tinged magic twin-bonded from Ron. “Why does it always have to be this way?” he thought. “Why do I always have to hurt people? Damn it, WHY?”

[Hey, Harry,] Ron said. [It’s as much me as you, mate. Don’t forget that.]

[But Ron,] Harry shot back, [Don’t you see – it’s me who's spreading it, not you. And spreading it to Mum and Dad, and to Hermione and to… everybody. Didn’t you just hear Dumbledore? Everybody!]

[I’m... I'm sorry I did this to you, Harry.] Harry saw Ron hang his head. [On top of everything else you've got, I’m so damn sorry I did this to you.]

Ron’s horror, Ron’s shame brought Harry abruptly out of his rage. [Ron. No, don’t think that, don’t. Please. I’m…. I wouldn’t want you to have this alone. I’m not glad, but I’m... well, something like glad that I can share it with you. And I’m so much more than glad that I have you, and that I have my family -- that I’m not alone. So… don’t. Let’s just promise that… that we’re going to find a way. Together. All right?]

Ron carefully looked up into Harry’s eyes. At the same time, Harry felt him searching Harry’s deepest and most honest feelings. [You mean that.]

Harry [nodded]; he even [smiled a little].

Ron [smiled a little] back. [Yeah,] he said. [I'm still sorry, but... I reckon I understand. I don't want you alone in any of your stuff, either.]

Harry looked back at Dumbledore. “You said you’re going to teach us? Teach us what? And starting when?”

Dumbledore smiled. “You may recall my saying that I thought we should teach a course in Ancient Magic? That first day, at the BloodBinding?”

"Yes."

“That course has now become a necessity. And you -- Ron and Harry -- indeed, all your family will be taking it.”

“All my family?” Harry looked around, and saw more surprised looks.

“Well, Harry, if you are going to be flooding your family with that dark magic," Dumbledore chuckled, "don’t you think they will need a bit of help, too?”

“You mean….” Harry felt all a jumble of hopes and fears. “You mean my family will be with me at Hogwarts?”

Dumbledore now gave one of his broadest and most eye-twinkling smiles. “I mean precisely that.” He looked at everyone in the room. “You are all invited to Hogwarts for the course in Ancient Magic and….” His smile turned annoyingly mysterious. “Let us just say, for other things as well.”

“But,” Dad said, “my work at the Ministry. I can’t afford to lose my job.”

“And our joke shop!” cried Fred&George.

“All that can be arranged for,” Dumbledore said. “I will see to it, personally. There will be no losses or objections, I assure you. And of course that will also include Hermione, Dobby, Neville, Hagrid, Severus and Remus. And--” His eyes twinkled. "--perhaps more."

Harry's mind was roaring through all the ways, with his family there, that he'd be singled out, all the conflicts that could happen with his family wandering around Hogwarts and watching. He looked over at Ron and saw what he felt -- Ron doing the same thing. Ron's look and feel was pure, "Oh, shite."

"I hasten to add," Dumbledore said, as if reading the two boys, "that your family will not be living there." Harry and Ron were barely able to stifle sighs of relief. "But they will be at the castle at least once a week, sometimes more."

“You know,” Charlie said, “I think that might be great.” He looked over at the twins, an evil gleam in his eye. “Just imagine what we can do now, when we’re all together and know so much more.”

“Not,” Mum announced, “while your father and I are there.” Then she put her arms around Dad, and they both smiled at each other. “It will be so good to have our family together.” She looked at Harry, including him in her smile. “All our family.”

Harry felt a wash of feelings throughout his family – Mum’s and Dad’s excitement, the twins’ and Charlie’s determination to raise merry hell, Ron's and Ginny's worries, and so much more. But most of all, Harry felt himself filled with divided thoughts. Part of him gloried in it. “I’m going to have my family, all my family not just for a few weeks but for a whole year.” Harry had had so precious little time to be in his family. He knew that it wasn't enough, that he needed more. But part of him, too -- that increasingly sixteen year old part -- was….

Well, part of Harry was a becoming a normal sixteen year old boy, who joined Ron in his "Oh, shite."

* * * * * * * * * *

[What happened, Frank?] Alice asked, both she and her husband still deeply embedded in Harry's spark. She had just awakened from an exhausted sleep to find herself surrounded by Frank. It was as if, once again, she were held in his arms – the most wonderful awakening since….

That “since” brought a shudder and memories, then more memories and a longing.

[For a time,] she said, [we were… part of Neville.]

Frank [smiled]. [Yes.]

[How? How did we do that?]

[I don’t know, Alice. All I know is that we didn’t do it, though we were alert to it and joined it when the chance came. It was done, somehow, through Neville and Harry, I think through their bond, though there were other, very powerful magics involved.]

Alice checked, then [agreed]. [And not only other powerful magics but... strange magics. I'd almost say... wild magics. I can still feel it strongly in Harry's magic. And there was another magic -- that music, singing almost. It came....] Alice [frowned]. [I think from beyond the veil.]

[True, Alice. I believe you're right. But most of all,] Frank said, [I know that since it was done once, it will be done again. Neville will see to that.]

Alice [smiled], and she felt down to Harry’s spark, which she still held, comforted and loved.

[So will Harry,] she said. [So will Harry.]

* * * * * * * * * *

Deep within Harry’s wound, pale hands stroked the snake. “Ah, my dear, don’t you find the old man’s words intriguing? And amusing, of course, very amusing. So much that he doesn’t see.”

The snake turned its great triangular head, focusing its red eyes on the green eyes of the speaker. It flicked its tongue once, twice, then hissed, a long, complicated, song-like hiss.

“Yes, my friend,” came from the thin mouth, “I completely agree with you. And with our dear brother, Harry.”

That mouth snake-smiled, feral and predator-like.

“Ron’s not the only one with wild magic. Nor is Harry the only one who now shares Ron’s wild magic.” He smiled even more. "Or who now has deep and immediate access to Ron's wild magic."

That smile expanded, losing none of its distinctive character.

“Useful, that, very useful.” He fully returned the red eyes’ stare. “We must think about this, mustn’t we? And we must plan. Though, sadly, I suspect that Ron is still too much in the way to be worth preserving.”

The snake gave a shorter, less musical hiss.

“Again, I believe you’re right, my pet. Perhaps now is the time for us to reach out to our friends.”

"Our greatness will appear
Then most conspicuous, when great things of small,
Useful of hurtful, properous of adverse
We can create, and in what place so e're
Thrive under evil, and work ease out of pain..."
John Milton
Paradise Lost, Book II