Getting Harry Back

Chapter 21
Cedric

Why has man rooted himself thus firmly in the earth, but that he may rise in the same proportion into the heavens above?

Henry David Thoreau
Walden

"Good ground."

Out in the evening -- it was a fair evening with no moon and, therefore, with more stars. Out in the gardens near that patch of woods -- the woods called him almost as much as the earth itself. Out in all this and more, Hagrid felt deep within himself, then beyond himself, well beyond.

"Good an' deep ground, aye, an' true."

He smiled.

"I can feel th' bonds around Harry, so strong an' fearsome ready. Ah, but how far do they go? That's th' question, now, isn' it?"

Hagrid allowed himself to go again into his Giant half, then to feel into the earth, this time not deep but spread out. And as he did so, as he once more joined the dance, he felt the Burrow welcome him.

"All things growin', they're Harry-bonded, too, strong Harry-bonded. I can feel tha' fer certain."

Hagrid's smile broadened and the Burrow took his smile and danced it into laughter, reverberating and echoing. With this laughter, Hagrid felt even further.

"It's as I thought. With ground this good, this deep an' rich, that Harry-bond spreads all through Ottery St. Catchpole an' all that's growin', an' all that's runnin' on the ground an' flyin' over it. An' then there's Harry's special magic; that's helpin', too -- I can feel it."

Satisfied, he nodded his great head. "I can tell 'em it's safe fer Harry anywhere around. Tell 'em tomorrow, I will, firs' thing."

Now deep within the dance, Hagrid reached out for Dumbledore, then for Harry, embracing them though disturbing neither's sleep on this quiet and fair and starry night. Giant-bonding with them both and holding them, he brought them into himself, as he'd done so often. Then he danced them into the dance that was Ottery St. Catchpole. Giant and wizards danced, laughed and dreamed their bonds even stronger with each other, with this earth, with all that lived on it. They were joined by owl and phoenix, by Ron, Hermione and all the Weasleys, by Neville and his parents, by Remus and Snape. They danced, laughed and dreamed their way out to the stars where they were joined by James and Lily, by Sirius and Cedric, by Arthur's parents and by so many, many more. Still farther outward and beyond, they danced and danced through time, even to the beginnings of all Magic, they danced, fierce danced, and laughed and dreamed ever more powerful dreams....

* * * * * * * * * *

...I play great marches for the conquered and slain persons.

I sound triumphal drums for the dead... I fling through my embouchures the loudest
and gayest music to them,
Vivas to those who have failed, and to those whose war-vessels sank in the sea,
and those themselves who sank in the sea,
And to... all overcome heroes,
and the numberless unknown heroes equal to the greatest heroes known.

Walt Whitman
From Leaves of Grass, first edition

"Dad?"

"Yes, Harry?"

"Uh...." Harry gulped.

He hoped it was okay to ask. He'd waited until he and Dad were alone. Harry's Community Bonding Week just over, they were in the attic, making sure that the extra chairs Dad had magicked back up there were properly stacked.

Growing up at the Dursleys, asking had always been risky, even dangerous. So asking always left Harry a little fluttery. But something about this asking had really set him off. Maybe it was the rebound from all the new family and friends, which had ended only the day before. Maybe it was the exhaustion from the hard work Harry was putting in with his family, all of them trying desperately to join Harry on his insides for the upcoming struggles. Maybe it was something else or the combination of everything. All Harry knew was that he felt scared.

He took a deep breath. "Don't the Diggorys live nearby?"

Harry saw Dad's face go from smiling to frowning. From their residual BondRope tie, Harry could feel his father's upset. Instantly, Harry's stomach lurched, his body flinched, and his face went white. Before Dad could answer, Harry was apologizing:

"I'm sorry, Dad, I'm sorry. I didn't mean to upset you, really I didn't."

Harry saw his dad move toward him, his hand out and rising. Without being aware of it, he backed up a step. With that, Harry saw and felt that his dad was even more upset. He kept speaking:

"I won't ask again, Dad, I promise. I didn't know, honest, I really didn't--"

"Harry."

At the sound of his name, Harry froze, eyes wide. His dad looked and felt more upset than ever, and he was moving closer, Dad's hand up to Harry's face and descending on him, faster and faster. Now he'd done it, he'd really done it. In his head, Harry heard that familiar scream, "You shouldn't've asked! You know better!", and he felt that familiar feeling of leaving his body, of going farther and farther away. Hearing left, feeling became fuzzy, and sight dimmed as Dad's hand came down on him.

Dad put his hand on Harry's shoulder, and Harry flinched again.

But Dad didn't slap or hit, he didn't even grab, shove or shake. Dad felt... gentle? Harry was confused. He saw that his dad was saying something, and he struggled to come back into his body, at least enough to hear.

"...wrong, Harry? What are you talking about? What's wrong?"

Harry couldn't answer. He struggled even harder to get back, to understand what was happening. He heard, saw and felt that Dad was really upset with him. But why was his hand gentle?

"Son?"

With that word from that man, it was as if his sight cleared, and Harry could see his dad again. He closed his eyes, took a deep breath, and felt himself finally come back into his body.

"Son, what's wrong? Please tell me."

Harry felt his face color with shame. He had just thought his dad, his dad was going to hit him. He hung his head, his eyes still closed. How could he look at his dad after thinking that?

"Please, son, whatever it is, I need to know. I'm your dad; you can tell me."

"No," Harry thought, "I could never say that, I could never tell my dad that I thought--" Harry now couldn't even think those words. He felt his shame double. He had betrayed--

"Harry!" His dad hugged him. Harry wanted to feel that hug, his heart ached to feel his dad's hug, but he knew that he didn't deserve it. He'd betrayed his dad's love, he'd just thought that his dad-

"Merlin's Beard!"

Harry stiffened. He knew that his dad knew; his dad had found him out. He could feel his dad's anger. Harry knew that his dad had a right to be angry with him, really angry.

"You thought that you'd done something wrong, that you were going to be beaten. You thought you were going to be beaten for asking a question."

Rigid with fear and shame, still with his head down and his eyes closed, Harry gave a little nod. His dad knew. It was all over, now: he'd have to leave.

Harry felt his dad explosively hug him, hold him, then he felt Dad put his face on Harry's head and sigh.

Harry's mind went blank in confusion.

"Oh, Harry. Oh, son."

Harry realized with a shock that he'd hurt his father deeply. He could hear it in his voice. He could feel his dad's pain. That pain rocketed through Harry, amplified exponentially by his shame, by knowing he'd caused it. Harry hadn't felt this kind of pain since Sirius died. It would've felt better to be beaten, far better, than to cause his dad this kind of pain!

"Dad, I'm so sorry. I didn't mean to, I couldn't help it. Please, Dad, it's not your fault."

Harry heard his father gasp and felt his dad's pain surge. Harry's head screamed: "You made it worse!" He didn't know how, but he could feel that he made it worse! "You're so stupid, so incredibly stupid! You're always hurting people! And now you've hurt... you've hurt your dad!" He wanted to run away, but he couldn't move, even if his dad wasn't holding him.

Dad was saying something. Harry tried hard to listen through the pain and screaming in his head.

"...all right, Harry, it's all right. You've done nothing wrong, son, nothing at all. Oh, Harry, please don't--"

Crash!

Both Harry and Dad looked up as Ron came charging up the stairs, his wand out and his face bent on murder. He stopped and looked wildly around the attic for someone to kill. Finding no one, he stared at Harry and Dad, who stared back, all three wide-eyed.

Finally, his voice shaky, Ron said, "Harry? You all right?"

It took a while to sort out all the confusions. In the end, Dad was swearing that he would see those Dursleys in Azkaban if it was the last thing he ever did, though he strongly preferred to see them in hell and to take pictures, lots of pictures, which he would enjoy looking at, over and over again throughout his declining years.

Ron's wants were more immediate and direct. He wanted to go to Number Four, right now, and beat the Dursleys to death with his fists, though he wouldn't promise not to use his feet and his teeth. And he had detailed plans for the corpses. Even much later, Harry still felt Ron's fury and heard his internal muttering, which showed Ron's fine feeling for blunt but expressive English.

Harry learned - Sweet Merlin, had he learned! -- that if he didn't want a repeat of Ron-to-the-Rescue, when he had strong feelings he needed to let Ron know what was going on.

"I mean bloody hell, Harry, I thought--!"

"Ron!" Dad frowned.

"Well.

I thought he was dying!"

Harry had two wishes and he made two decisions. First and most of all, he wished that Ron and Dad would drop the subject, just drop it, so he could stop feeling, once again, like the world's biggest idiot. Second, he wished with all his heart that at least a few of his total humiliations could be in private. He made both Ron and his dad swear on everything magical that they would never, ever breathe a word of this to anyone, though Dad, much to Harry's consternation, insisted on telling Mum.

"Oh, God!"

he thought. "That's the last thing I need, Mum going ballistic over me again."

Harry felt Ron mentally and heart-feelingly [agree!]

Harry decided, not for the first time, that growing up with the Dursleys was fucked, "I mean really fucked." At that, he felt a surge of anger that was Ron's [Yes!]

And finally, Harry decided that constantly hearing Ron's head-mutterings was having an effect on his own mental language, which had become more, uh... colorful.

Ron [grinned].

* * * * * * * * * *

"Yes, the Diggorys live just the other side of Stoat's Hill. Why do you ask, Harry?"

"Well...." Even after his most recent kerfuffle, asking was still hard. "I noticed they didn't come visit us, you know, that second week?"

Dad's eyes looked sad. "They don't get out much. Not since Cedric...."

Both Dad and Harry sighed. Harry could feel Ron move into Ron&Harry and protectively curl around him on the inside, saying, [S'okay, mate, s'okay.]

"Cedric was their only child."

"Oh," Harry replied and looked down. He felt Ron trying to give comfort, which was tinged with Ron's still-simmering rage. But Harry appreciated his trying.

Silence.

Harry felt his dad's hand on his shoulder again. "What is it, Harry?"

Harry didn't know if he could put it into words that made sense. Eventually he said, "Would it be okay if we visited them? I'd...." Harry swallowed and looked up at his dad. "I'd like to see them."

Dad startled. "I suppose we could. If you want." He looked carefully at Harry. "It's important, isn't it." -- not a question, but a statement.

Harry nodded, scared.

Dad smiled. "Then, of course, we'll go."

Harry smiled back, relieved.

"Who d'you want going with you?"

Harry thought. "You and Mum?"

Harry felt a spike of Ron [annoyance] and heard a Ron cough -- a loud Ron cough. He turned to his brother, seeing Ron's lips pressed tightly together and his eyes narrowed and glaring.

"Well,"

Harry said, "it's not like it's going to be much fun, and I didn't want you to think that you had to."

Ron looked at him as if he'd just said something unbelievably dumb.

Dad chuckled. "I reckon anywhere you go, Ron wants to go. Probably have to tie him down to keep him here. But don't worry, Harry, he'll loosen up after a while." Dad chuckled again. "Ten or twenty years ought to do it."

Ron looked both embarrassed and determined, a tough mix to pull together, though he clearly would've settled for determined if he could've picked one.

Harry just blushed. He might've been annoyed if he hadn't also felt Ron's struggle with terror and seen Ron's memories of finding Harry at the Dursleys, which was what drove him to come running whenever he felt Harry's outsized feelings. Harry slipped into Ron&Harry to reassure him that he was all right, and that he wasn't going anywhere without him.

"You two...." Dad paused. "You're kind of like Fred and George, aren't you." -- again, not a question, but a statement.

Ron&Harry nodded and smiled. "You've seen," Harry said.

"After the BondRope, I can kind of feel it, too. Odd. I don't just feel your feelings, Harry. I can feel Ron's somewhat. And to a lesser extent, the others. Especially Mum." He smiled. "Kind of nice that, feeling Mum." He looked sly, and wiggled his eyebrows. "Gives me a bit of warning." Then he looked mock-worried. "But she can feel my feelings, too."

All three laughed.

Dad looked thoughtful. "Wish I could feel all my children's feelings as well as yours, Harry. You're special. And that rubs off on others."

Harry's brow furrowed. He didn't want to lose his normal with his dad. And he wanted with all his heart just to fit in with his family.

Dad smiled, feeling Harry's reaction. "But then all the Weasleys are special in their own ways. And all of that rubs off."

Harry looked puzzled.

"Like Fred and George, and their fooling around." He smiled broadly. "Or Mum and her anger."

They laughed again.

"And of course...." He looked superior. "My intelligence and my high moral standards."

Ron pretended to gag.

Harry smiled and relaxed. It was okay to be special so long as he was still Weasley-normal, which was the only normal he cared about. He briefly wondered if Tonks could teach him how to make his hair red.

Ron snorted and jabbed him in the ribs.

* * * * * * * * * *

"And I hope we're not intruding," Dad continued, "but Harry very much wanted to come see you."

Visiting the Diggories had caused another eruption. At first, Mum was against it, to put it mildly, until Hagrid assured her, and Dumbledore confirmed that Harry's protection extended not only to the edges of the Burrow but throughout Ottery St. Catchpole. Even with that assurance and august confirmation, she never considered letting Harry go without her. Harry was finding that a family, especially a mum, was excellent at schooling patience and forbearance. Not that he was a particularly apt pupil.

"No, no." To Harry's eyes and ears Mrs. Diggory seemed... relieved? "No intrusion whatsoever. Please, do come in, and you're most welcome. We had meant to come over ourselves, during your Community Week, but...." She looked sad. "We don't get out much these days, you know, and well.... Crowds are difficult for us. We had planned, we had wanted very much to call this week, when it would be a bit more private."

She smiled shyly, then she backed away from the door, letting the Weasleys enter. "Won't you please sit down with us." She turned to her husband. "Amos? Why don't you offer them something to drink?" She turned back to her guests. "It's so warm, you must be thirsty. And we just made a jug of lemonade."

Mr. Diggory was oblivious to what his wife had asked him. He was staring at Harry, scared and hopeful.

"Amos?" Mrs. Diggory repeated as she turned back to her husband, some worry in her voice and face.

Mr. Diggory kept staring.

Harry didn't hear Mrs. Diggory, either. He walked over to Mr. Diggory, stopped just within arm's reach and gave a little smile.

The room quietly fixed on the two.

Mr. Diggory lifted his hand, reached out and hesitated. Harry moved forward a bit, and Mr. Diggory put his hand on Harry's shoulder. He felt Cedric's father's hand gently grasp him, as if testing that he was real. Then he felt that hand settle into a holding, firm and secure. To the others, it seemed as if something passed between the older wizard and the younger.

Harry smiled and put his hand on Mr. Diggory's hand. Both relaxed and Mr. Diggory began to smile, his lower lip trembling, his eyes watering.

"You know," Harry said simply.

It was Mr. Diggory's turn to nod. "Didn't know whether I knew or whether I just hoped."

"When?"

"Two weeks ago, a bit more, maybe. First day of your family bonding week, I think. Sudden-like, that morning. Tried to tell Helen, but.... Well, she felt it, too, I know she did, I could see it in her. But maybe it was too much, too scary for her to take to heart, or even to hope for."

Harry felt Mrs. Diggory come up beside him. For the first time since Harry entered their home, he and Mr. Diggory broke their eye contact as he looked up at the tall woman. She put her hand on Harry's hand, which was still over her husband's.

"It's true?" she asked timidly.

"I'm not Cedric," Harry said.

"We know," Mr. Diggory assured him. "We know. But...."

All three appeared at a loss for what to say.

[Harry?] Ron's mind voice was tentative. [What's going on? You all right?]

[S'okay, Ron; everything's fine. Give us a moment, eh?] Harry looked over at his parents. "Mum, Dad? Is it all right if maybe I sit down with Mr. and Mrs. Diggory?"

Dad smiled, a bit puzzled and cautious. "Fine, Harry, of course." He asked carefully, "Do you want Ron, Mum and me to leave for a while?"

Harry felt Ron's [protectiveness] surge along with his [fear]. "No, that's all right, Dad." He looked back at Mr. and Mrs. Diggory. "Isn't it?" At the same time, he sent out to Ron: [reassure]. He felt Ron relax. Fractionally.

"Please," Mr. Diggory said, "Molly, Arthur, Ron, please sit down. Can I get you something to drink? Awfully hot out, you know. Have some lemonade? Just made up."

Mrs. Diggory smiled.

"That would be very nice, Amos, Helen," Mum replied. "Especially after our walk."

Everyone was served lemonade, along with little squares of marzipan. - "There's the nicest Muggle bakery just down the road, Molly. German, I think." "They do this without magic, Helen?" -- Harry sat between Mr. and Mrs. Diggory on the couch.

A gently curious silence settled on the room.

Harry looked at both Diggorys. "D'you want me to try to explain?"

He got two nods and smiles. Harry sighed and looked back at his family. "Two years ago, after I stopped Professor Lupin and--"

Harry broke off, closed his eyes and took a little breath, then opened his eyes, swallowed and went on:

"--and Sirius from killing Peter Pettigrew--"

"Sirius Black?"

Mrs. Diggory gasped. "And Pettigrew's alive?"

"Helen," Arthur said, "don't worry. Everything's fine. We'll explain later, after Harry's done."

Harry saw both she and Mr. Diggory look at him with concern. He smiled; they relaxed. Ron moved into Ron&Harry to give him more support.

"Well, Professor Dumbledore said that saving Pettigrew's life, that made a special bond between him and me. He called it, magic at its deepest, its most.... I think he said 'impenetrable', whatever that means. That's what happens when one wizard saves another."

"Cedric...." Harry swallowed and turned to look at both Diggorys. "He saved my life twice - once right at the end of the Triwizard Tournament, against that spider."

Harry felt Ron [shudder].

"And once more after he...." Harry stopped again, looking at the Diggorys, pained and worried. "After I saw him... murdered."

Harry looked down.

Mr. Diggory put his hand on Harry's shoulder, Mrs. Diggory put her hand on Harry's arm, and both gently squeezed. Harry looked up and saw sadness, not just for them and for Cedric, but also for him. For a while, they all shared their sadnesses.

Harry went on: "Later, in the graveyard, when Volde-- sorry, You-Know-Who tried to kill me, Cedric came out of my wand, along with my first mum and dad, and some others. He helped me get away."

Harry shuddered. Mr. and Mrs. Diggory squeezed his shoulder and arm again. He felt Ron curl up around his heart and wound. Harry realized that he'd never told Ron, or anyone except Dumbledore and Sirius, about what happened in the graveyard.

"After that, well, it was like I...." Harry frowned. "I kept feeling Cedric. All the time. It wasn't just the memories and the nightmares." Harry felt his own spike of fear and nausea, which Ron immediately embraced and held.

"It was also, I don't know... good? I didn't really notice the good part at first, but I guess I kind of did. And then, during that BloodBinding on the first day? Well, that good part got a lot stronger. But there was so much going on, so many things happening...."

Harry thought. "It was after...." He shuddered again; Ron held his shudder, too. "After I found out that Seamus and his family had been murdered, and things got so bad, and Professor Dumbledore wanted me to figure out who was helping me, you know, inside of me? It was then that I really noticed Cedric. Not like he was at a distance, but.... Like he was a part of me?"

Harry looked questioningly from Mr. Diggory to his wife, wanting their understanding, which they gave with their faces. Harry felt Ron checking Harry's insides, and then give a [nod]. That made Harry feel less crazy.

"I realized he was a part of me. Almost like Hagrid, Ron and Hermione, and my first parents, and now, my new mum and dad. An 'always there' part of me, sometimes strong, sometimes not so strong, but always there."

Harry stopped again and thought. "In a way," he said, "part of Cedric is still alive in me because, I reckon, when he saved my life, well, a part of me went into him, and a part of him went into me. I'm not Cedric, but I am... part Cedric?"

Mr. and Mrs. Diggory smiled and nodded.

"So, you see, I had to come see you because--" Harry looked back at Mum and Dad, "Please don't take this wrong or anything, but...." He turned back to Mr. and Mrs. Diggory, uncertain. "You're... you're part my mum and dad, too?"

Harry felt his part-Cedric glow, like he'd really gotten it right. He felt Ron [nod]. He looked back at his mum and dad, and he saw them smiling.

Harry gave a great sigh of relief. He turned to the Diggorys and smiled. Mrs. Diggory, eyes glistening, reached over and brought him into a hug, which Mr. Diggory joined from the other side. Harry felt his part-Cedric reach out from within him to take in their hug and to hug back. The Diggory family enjoyed a long and healing hug, a Diggory-holding.

"Again," Harry realized, "I'm like the BondRope." Inside their hug, inside their holding, He smiled deeper, feeling at peace and content. "I like that. It not only feels magical, it feels... right. My kind of right."

With that, Harry felt that he finally had a place not just in his family, but in the world -- a place all his own that he could feel good about. For years he'd been told, for years he'd believed that he had no place, that he was worthless. Then for more years, he felt like he was mostly The Boy Who Lived, but not quite a real person. And after the prophesy... "It was like I was some sort of weapon, or even a killer. But now... I do have a place, being like the BondRope -- a place for me." He smiled even more. "A pretty good place."

He also knew that there'd be no more Cedric nightmares. He knew that another part of himself had come back together after being shattered, and it was now, truly, at peace, too. More: it was now strong magic.

Wound magic.

* * * * * * * * * *

[Harry,] Ron urged, [just ask them. Hey, it's really is all right to ask, remember? Don't worry -- if they try to hurt you, I'll kill 'em. So you're safe.]

Harry [scowled]. He felt like such a complete fool.

[You are not a fool], Ron's thought came back firmly.

Sometimes it was a real pain in the arse having someone always knowing your thoughts and feelings.

[Know what you mean, mate. Sometimes it's really, you know, embarrassing. 'Specially when I'm around Hermione and everything." Flaming Red Blush.]

Harry [grinned] and [nodded]. [Wonder how Fred and George manage it?].

[Born with it. Reckon they just got used to it.]

Harry [shrugged]. [We have to work out... well, some privacy?]

Ron [frowned]. [Yeah. For both of us. Hey, sooner or later, you'll find someone, too, and....]

Harry: [Mega-BLUSH!]

Ron: [Laugh!] Then: [Just ask them, damn it.]

Harry: [scared nod].

Ron: [Gentle nudge?]

The Weasleys and Diggorys were talking. Harry felt awkward. He didn't like interrupting any more than asking. But even more, he felt he had to. So he took a big breath and forced out, "Uh, Mrs. Diggory?"

She smiled. "Yes, Harry?"

Harry looked carefully into her eyes. "Could I go--"

He felt a blast of Ron's [annoyance].

"Er, could Ron and I go with you to...."

He paused.

"To Cedric's grave?"

* * * * * * * * * *

Love bade me welcome; yet my soul drew back,
Guilty of dust and sin.
But quick-eyed Love observing me grow slack
From my first entrance in,
Drew nearer to me, sweetly questioning
If I lacked anything.

'A guest,' I answer'd, 'worthy to be here.'
Love said, 'You shall be he.'
'I, the unkind, ungrateful? Ah, my dear,
I cannot look on thee.'
Love took my hand and smiling did reply,
'Who made the eyes, but I?'

George Herbert
Love

"Hello, son."

At the unexpected sound of his dad's voice behind him, Harry jumped.

After coming home from the Diggorys and going to bed, Harry had awakened in the night feeling hungry, and he'd gone quietly down to the kitchen. Of the hundreds -- "More like thousands." -- of wonderful changes in his life, one of the nicest came from Mum.

"Harry," she said with unusual intensity even for her, "I will not have you going hungry." Standing next to her, Ron nodded for emphasis.

Through their twinning, Ron had learned that Harry didn't ask when he was hungry. Ever since he came to live with the Weasleys, Harry's appetite rivaled, if not exceeded Ron's. But as he'd been trained for so many years, he automatically pushed his hunger away and ignored it. Only extreme hunger had led Harry to sneak food at the Dursleys. Aunt Petunia kept too close a watch on her kitchen. From toddlerhood, Harry had learned to suppress his hunger in the face of near-certain death.

Ron had been as horrified as only a perpetually ravenous teen could be. He insisted, he pleaded that Harry eat whenever he was hungry, and that he eat more during meals. Harry would agree, but then not follow through. Finally, in desperation, Ron had brought out the big guns: he told Mum.

Mum wasn't horrified. No, she was light-years beyond horrified that one of her children, more, that her one child who'd been, literally, starved for years was going hungry. "Under my roof!" she shrieked. Harry didn't think that language had yet found a word for the feelings this had caused her.

At first, Harry was furious with Ron for telling Mum. But Mum's Holy Edict had turned his eating-world upside down. Now, Harry knew that it was death for him not to eat, and that he was being monitored even more closely than Aunt Petunia at her most paranoid. After a few days of open snacking, though, he had to admit that eating when he wanted, and as much as he wanted, until he wasn't hungry anymore, was heavenly.

"Any time," Mum had said, "any time you feel hungry, you are to march yourself right down to the kitchen and eat whatever you please until you are full!"

She glared at Harry.

"And I don't mean partially full."

She glared again, even stronger.

"Are you Quite Clear?"

Harry nodded, wide-eyed at Mum's savage determination.

[Harry,] Ron mentally reinforced, [it's not just you, mate; we all do. Bloody hell, you know me. I would've died otherwise.]

So Harry had taken up raiding the magical icebox with a passion.

Harry was just taking out a bowl of leftover blancmange, when he heard his dad say, "Hello, son." Startled, he promptly dropped the bowl, creating an unsalvageable mixture of splattered afters and broken glass.

Harry's face showed stark, speechless terror.

To Harry's astonishment, his dad smiled and said, "Better let Ron know you're not about to die. He'll break a leg crashing down the stairs, half asleep and crazy with fear."

Harry took a beat before blushing and half-smiling. When he checked, sure enough, he felt Ron's terror. He figured that Ron was probably out their bedroom door, wand in hand.

[S'okay, Ron, I'm safe, Uh... false alarm. Embarrassed smile.]

Ron's response was as understandable as it was unprintable. Harry felt Ron checking his, Harry's, every inner nook and cranny to be absolutely sure.

[Hey, Ron, I'm really all right. Dad's here, too.]

After a few more ill-tempered sentences, Ron stumbled back to bed.

Dad chuckled. "Here, let's clean up this mess." With a flick of his wand, the pudding went into the rubbish; with a "Reparo!", the bowl came back together. "Shall we see what else is in there?" Dad asked. "I'm hungry, too."

Harry was glad for something to do, because he seemed to have developed a long-lasting blush which he tried heroically to squelch along with his shame. As usual, he was only marginally successful.

"Harry?"

Harry stiffened. He hoped with all his heart that Dad wasn't going to have A Talk. He was having enough trouble battling humiliation.

"It must be hard," he heard his dad say, "going from the Dursleys to here. And you so want to just fit in."

Harry cautiously looked over at his dad, who was smiling at him with sad eyes.

"You know, I think you're doing a great job. Truly. I've never seen anybody try harder or want anything more."

Harry gave a big sigh. But his heart still didn't feel like he was doing a great job.

Dad nodded again, and his smile left, his mouth joining his sad eyes. "You've had fifteen years of never, ever belonging, and knowing that you were never going to. So of course, each time you make a mistake here, it feels like you don't fit and never will, and you've just killed your last chance, anyway."

Harry nodded, tensing up.

Dad reached out and brought Harry into a tight father-hug. At first, Harry resisted. Then he felt an explosive longing and, suddenly, he was clinging to his father, desperately wanting him to make all those thoughts and feelings go away.

If Harry hadn't been so caught up in everything, he would've noticed that Ron had cautiously come down the stairs, alert and wand in hand. When he saw Harry and Dad, he shook his head and sat down. He felt almost helplessly called to be there, to witness. No one knew better how hard Harry was trying, how much he wanted to be part of his family, to just belong. No one knew better how keenly and fearfully Harry felt each slip. Ron, through their twin bond, had all of Harry's heart-eating feelings.

If anyone wanted to make it easier for Harry, ached to make it easier, it was Ron. He carefully, gently joined Ron&Harry, "belonging" him with all his considerable love and other magics. And while Ron sat on the stairs, Mum quietly sat down beside him, she, too, having been awakened and called by Harry's feelings.

As his pain eased, Harry felt shame's return. And so did Dad.

"Now you feel like you've done something wrong, again," he said, "once more making you out the fool."

Head still against his father's chest, Harry nodded, dreading A Talk and terrified that he'd cry.

"You want to hide," Dad said, "to push it away, to that pretend it never happened and pray that it never will again."

Once more, Harry nodded into his father's chest.

"Harry? Let's sit down."

"Oh, God,"

Harry thought as he sat, his head down and studying the kitchen floor. "Here it comes -- A Talk."

"I know," Dad said as if he, like Ron, could hear Harry's thoughts. "You'd rather do anything, anything but talk about it. You want to say, 'Dad, please can we just drop it.'"

Harry felt himself sigh and nod a third time, still looking at the floor.

"Harry?"

Reluctantly, Harry, who was sitting cornerwise from his dad at the kitchen table, looked up. As expected, he saw Dad's sad face.

Then Dad smiled. "I want you to know that I know that you know we feel you belong here, that you're one of us." Dad frowned. "Silly sentence, wasn't it? But you know what I mean."

Harry smiled a little.

"And," Dad continued, "maybe here goes another silly sentence: I want you to know, too, that...." Dad frowned again. "That we all know it's going to take you a while, not just to know, but to really know that everything you learned deep down at the Dursleys, that isn't going to happen here, not now, not ever. And taking a while, that's not just weeks, or even months."

Dad pinned Harry with his eyes. "However long it takes, that's how long it takes. We're hanging in there with you because: You're. Worth. It. Even more: You're. Family. Always. Got that?"

Harry felt a yearning, another aching to believe. Alongside it, though, he felt an equally strong fear, that old forever fear that this couldn't possibly be true. He hung his head, unable to look at his dad.

"And I know," Harry heard Dad say, "it's going to be hard for you to believe that. Certainly not because you don't want to believe us." Dad paused. "But you'll be scared to believe us, scared that when we really get to know you, or when you finally make that one mistake that's completely unforgivable, or when years later, you're still blowing it, again and again and again, that we'll finally get tired and give up on you."

Head still down, Harry nodded and felt tears, those damnable tears.

"Harry? Do you know how I know those things?"

Harry shook his head, crying but trying not to and unable to look at his dad.

"Molly," Dad said. "Your mum."

In spite of his tears, Harry looked up, shocked. "You mean... Mum...?" Harry couldn't say it. It was too awful to think that his mum, his mum had--

Dad sighed. "Yes, Harry. Mum, like you, thought and felt those things."

Harry saw his dad's tears start and join his tears. But Harry knew, he could feel that Dad's tears, and that his own now, weren't only for himself. They were for Mum, too. And with his dad, Harry could feel that he had company in his tears, that they shared their tears, not tears of pity, but tears of love.

"It took her years; it took us years," Dad said quietly. "Years."

For a long time, father and son looked at each other, both crying together for someone they loved.

"And Harry?"

Dad smiled through his tears.

"She was worth it, too."

He paused.

"Still is."

Harry nodded with his head, with his heart, with his whole being. In his nodding, Harry understood, he finally understood. And by understanding, he felt himself take another huge step. Not that there'd be no more terrors and pains, not that there'd be no more tears - he knew better. But even with the terrors, the pains, the tears, he'd still taken that step. And Harry felt himself freed up to reach out to so much more magic within and all around him.

Harry fled into his father's arms, now crying openly, now not alone and not only for himself. And maybe, just maybe, now never alone and never again only for himself.

Molly and Ron quietly sat together on the stairs, though Mum had cast a silencing charm around them. Both had sat riveted, feeling the emotions from Harry, and hearing his ongoing struggles, his ongoing agony. As they listened to and felt Harry's muted crying, they turned to look at each other.

"Mum?" Ron asked. "Will it ever stop for Harry?" He paused, then exploded: "Please tell me it'll stop!"

With that, their dams burst, and they found themselves crying in each other's arms, crying for the unquenchable pain that Harry, their beloved Harry seemed condemned to live.

"It's not fair," he said. "It's not his fault."

Molly could hear Ron's anger along with his anguish, and she could feel her own.

"Harry didn't do anything wrong, Mum," Ron said. "He didn't!"

Molly silently nodded against her son's face.

"Why?" Ron asked. "Why?" And with that, the burden of living all of his twin's fears and pains, all of his hideous memories and unlovabilities came crashing in. And Ron, sturdy and loyal Ron, who was, after all, only sixteen, began sobbing.

Molly held one crying son while she listened to another, her mother's heart breaking with a sadness and a fury that had no place to go except to comfort and love, a sadness and a fury that she felt she'd known ever since the beginnings of her life. And that sadness and fury screamed through her mind, through her heart and soul, through everything in her that was magical and Molly.

Can ye no hush your weepin', oh,
A' the wee lambs are sleepin', oh,
Birdies are nestlin', nestlin' th' gether,

(th' gether = together)
Dream Angus is hirplin' o'er the heather. (hirplin' = hobbling)

Dreams to sell, fine dreams to sell,
Angus is here wi' dreams to sell.
Hush ye my baby and sleep without fear,
Dream Angus has brought you a dream, my dear.

List' to the curlew cryin', oh,

(curlew = a medium-sized wading bird with a plaintive cry)
Fainter the echoes dyin', oh,
Even the birds and beasties are sleepin'.
But my Bonnie Bairn is weepin', weepin'. (Bairn = baby)

Dreams to sell, fine dreams to sell....

Traditional Scots lullaby
Recorded by Moira Craig
On Celtic Lullaby, Elipsis Arts records.

* * * * * * * * * *

Midmorning found Harry standing in a small, yew-darkened churchyard. The Diggorys stood on either side of him, Ron hovered right behind him, Mum and Dad were more at a distance.

The little Norman church warmed them with the deep, gentle magic of its weathered yellow stones, the magic of all the love, sorrow and hope that countless souls had brought to this church over nearly a thousand years. One yew, even older than the church, had seen the Anglo-Saxon chapel there before, and before that back to the Romans, perhaps even back to the Celtic druids - its memory wasn't clear on this. The yew had gathered sunlight and starlight and more, sowing it all deeply into the rich earth, the now Harry-bound earth, the now Cedric-earth.

As he stood there, Harry felt himself drawn down into this Cedric-earth, into the bits of Cedric's spirit that it held, bits that linked to still more. As he was called by and felt into that "still more", Harry felt not only Cedric but also himself, those parts of himself that had joined with Cedric, just as parts of Cedric had joined with him. These Cedric parts and these Harry parts not only called him, they....

"It's like my twinning with Ron," he thought. "We belong together. They know it, and I know it, too. Like Ron and me, we reach out for each other. We...."

Harry shook his head. He felt Ron moving into Ron&Harry. He smiled and found himself also moving into Ron&Harry, this as naturally as breathing. As always, Harry's smile deepened as he felt, within Ron&Harry, that strong sense of Hermione and of being a Weasley, belonging to all his family. Then he knew:

"I'm not complete without them," he thought. "They're my magic, too. Maybe magic we are together. Or magic we belong to together."

Harry felt coming through his link to that mostly-Cedric, partly himself "still more", a glow -- what he recognized now as an Ancient Magic glow. That glow not only let him know that he'd got it right, it linked him even more firmly to the magic he belonged to. And the glow also told him that he and that magic belonged to the earth and to Magic itself. Harry could feel that they - Harry and that magic -- were both BondRopes to and from the world and Magic.

Harry brought out his own BondRope, which after his HandBonding week, he always carried with him. Harry took out the knife that Sirius had given him for his birthday, and he cut off a few short strands of the BondRope. Some he tucked into the earth in front of the headstone over the Cedric-earth. Some he gave to Mr. and Mrs. Diggory. Not to HandBond, because Harry knew that they were already HandBonded and more, but....

"As a promise, a promise for all of us."

Again, the Ancient Magic glowed. Harry smiled. Both Diggorys put their arms around him and smiled. And Harry could feel, inside, Ron's smile, and Mum and Dad's.

If he'd been able to recognize it, Harry could've also felt the Burrow's smile, a smile which became laughter as it danced deep within and out to the stars.

Selig sind die Toten

Blessed are the Dead
Wie in den Herren sterben Who die in the Lord
Von nun an, von nun an. From now on, from now on.
Johannes Brahms,
Ein Deutches Requiem
Movement VII, the final movement