Harry Potter and the Birth of a New Sun

Harry Potter and the Birth of a New Sun

Chapter 4 - Trappings

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They'd been walking for about thirty minutes when Harry noticed something strange - the path in front of him was growing clearer. It wasn't that it was more worn, or wider, or distinct in any way; it was simply more familiar, like the pattern of moving staircases one needed to take when ascending to Gryffindor tower which Harry now accomplished without a second thought. It was as if he'd travelled this way before, and with each step he became more certain of which way he should go next. He didn't know why he hadn't seen it before; the way ahead now seemed so obvious.

The others followed, huffing and panting, in single file behind him as he wove his way up between the rocks and crags on the mountain path. By mid-afternoon they came to a small lake, or more like a very large pond, surrounded by the only meaningful vegetation they had seen since they had left the forest.

"Let's stop here," said Hermione, breathing heavily.

A number of the others muttered general agreement, as they were all very tired. Sirius transformed back from his dog form and looked longingly at the water. Harry scanned the terrain; it did seem very inviting. The lake was a refreshing change to their previous scenery and offered a diversion, however short, from the task ahead. Nonetheless, Harry was uneasy. Gabriella's grandmother had warned him not to tarry on the way, but certainly that warning allowed for short breaks. Yet for no good reason, this place made him uncomfortable; just as the path they had been taking left him with a feeling of familiarity, the small lake was, somehow, foreboding.

"I think we should press on," Harry said. "It's not getting any lighter." He made a gesture toward the late afternoon sun, not wanting to say that this place gave him the creeps.

"Harry, come on! Let's have a rest," pleaded Sirius.

Already Gabriella and Hermione were taking off their packs. Sirius walked over to join them. The cool air was warmer here, and the wind that was blowing earlier had diminished to a fragrant breeze, but the hair bristled on the back of Harry's neck. He didn't know why, but he sensed danger.

"What is it?" asked Remus, noting Harry's tone and observing his expression, which was growing more sour by the moment. "What do you see?"

"I don't see anything," answered Harry, vexed. "I just don't like this place."

"Come on you three," called Remus to the others. Hermione and Gabriella were headed to the water's edge, and Sirius was only a few steps behind them. "This is not the spot to rest; we're leaving now."

"Honestly, Remus," complained Sirius as he stopped to look back at his best friend. "I have never known you to rest for more than five minutes in your life. The frailest of us all and yet you never...." He sighed, shaking his head and took a half step toward Remus. "Listen, let us just take two minutes and I promise--"

"Hermione, DON'T!" Harry screamed as an overwhelming panic washed over him, but it was too late. Her hand had touched the water and instantly an aquatic vine wrapped itself around her wrist and began to pull her in. Gabriella grabbed Hermione about the waist as the two girls cried for help. The same thing had happened to Ron at the falls in the Forbidden Forest, but this was different; Harry could feel that there was evil at play here.

Suddenly, everything snapped into slow motion; at least, it felt that way to Harry. He watched as Sirius slowly turned to see what Harry was yelling about. Harry ran toward the girls, step-by-step, wishing his legs would move faster as Soseh and Remus followed to help. He had come even with Sirius who was slipping out his wand. A few steps past his godfather, Harry watched in horror as both Hermione and Gabriella were pulled wholly into the water without a splash, as if they had been swallowed alive by thick, syrupy goo. Without hesitation, Harry was first to arrive at the water's edge. He dove to their rescue, but landed on a solid sheet of ice, sliding nearly halfway across the pond. He scrambled to his feet and, as if someone threw on a switch, everything was back to live action.

"Incendio!" Harry yelled, trying to blast a hole in the ice. "Incendio Forte!" The bright red beams of fire just bounced off. "Frusto!" he cried, hoping to shatter the ice - still nothing. Soon, Remus and Sirius were at his side, but just as Sirius readied his wand Soseh held up her hands.

"STOP!" she cried out, causing Sirius to pull up short. "The challenges here are not yours, Sirius, anymore than they are mine. This is Harry's journey and his alone!" She walked to the edge of the now frozen pond, her face ashen as she peered down at its green surface. "Harry's journey," she whispered and swallowed hard.

"Soseh," implored Remus, "you can't mean that. We can't leave the girls trapped there to die."

"We spoke of the risks long before the journey began, Remus," answered Soseh, holding her hand across her mouth and fighting back tears. "You have no magic here." Sirius looked at his wand and then pointed it at the ice.

"Incendio!" he called, but nothing came from his wand, not even a spark. His eyes, filled with fear, looked into Harry's, and he shook his head in denial. Sirius dropped to his knees and began to pound on the unyielding ice with his fists until droplets of blood began to fleck the glistening surface. It was Harry who finally reached down to stop him.

"It's... it's no use," Harry choked pulling Sirius back by the shoulders. "They're gone." His words almost lilted into a question that he asked in disbelief. "They're gone."

The wind began to blow again and whistled about the rocks, jeering at Harry in defiance. The greenery that had earlier surrounded the water was now dried, brown and lifeless. He looked up toward the peak which now appeared farther away than ever. The path ahead was still clear, in Harry's mind, but at its end waited the breath of doom.

"What have I done?" Harry asked, falling to his knees on the frozen sheet of green ice. Soseh still stood at the pond's edge, her hands tucked into the deep pockets of her coat. She had regained her composure, and her face bore no expression as she waited for Harry to make his decision. The passive look on her face simply made him slump further and, tears building in his eyes, he placed his hands on the ice. It was warm. He moved his hands to another place; again, the ice was warm.

"It's warm," he said softly.

"It's frozen solid," said Sirius, "it's as cold as ice."

"Put your hand here," said Harry, motioning for Sirius to touch where he held his hand. Sirius obliged. "Can you feel the heat?" Harry asked. Sirius looked up at Harry.

"All I feel is cold," he replied; he pounded again. Harry looked at Soseh.

"What's going on here?" he called to her. He took to his feet, walked over to the pond's edge and held her gently by one arm. "What is this place?" he asked.

"There are places, Harry, all around the earth, filled with tremendous amounts of energy. The lair of Singehorn is one such place; the great falls of Hogwarts are another. The ancient peoples learned to tap into these sources of energy, each unique in its own way. The mountains here are like volcanoes that erupt and vent and spew forth magic of all kinds. Not all such energy is good. These mountains are the birthplace of dragons and vampires and werewolves, but if you blindly consider all such things as evil you will never embrace the true meaning of the Votary."

Harry watched as Remus helped Sirius to his feet and they all gathered at Harry's side. Harry looked back at the sheet of ice and then at Soseh.

"They're not gone, are they?" he said with a glimmer of hope in his voice that lacked conviction. "It's some sort of Portkey, or time portal, or something; isn't it?" Soseh looked at Harry and her face was grim.

"If you fail, Harry, they will be lost forever. We all will be."

"Then there is hope," Harry said, more to himself than any of the others. He focused fully on the path he needed to follow, the path that only Harry's eyes could see, a shining trail that glimmered red and gold. He started off without looking back. "I must not fail. I must not falter. I must be strong before the altar," Harry whispered to himself, repeating the rhyme that Gabriella's grandmother had told him when they visited her in Armenia. He did not gaze back upon the icy grave, nor ask the others to follow. Yet, he heard their steps behind him and the huffs and groans of Sirius as they all continued to trudge up the mountain; that, at least, was comforting.

No one spoke as they climbed ever upward. The sunlight waned and the sky began to turn the colour of rust, as if reflecting the barren landscape that surrounded them. It was turning dark and growing considerably colder as they came upon a large outcropping of rocks. Here there was a path ahead, clearly distinguishable by all of them. It was well worn and often trodden, but the path Harry could see glimmering ahead of them twisted away from this trail, turning up and to the left into a craggy region that would mean a sheer and dangerous climb. The well worn trail continued straight along the direction they'd been travelling for the last few minutes and then turned to the right where the terrain was smooth but then dipped out of view just past a sharp ridge.

"Why are you stopping, Harry?" Sirius asked breathlessly, patting Harry on the shoulder and walking past him along the well worn way. "Don't tell me your... old godfather's out-... pacing you." Sirius was breathing heavily, but proud about staying up with Harry. He grinned back at his godson and took a few backward steps up the path ahead.

"I don't think that's the way," answered Harry quietly, still staring along the path that led to the crags. About ten yards ahead, Sirius stopped and bent low, putting his hands to his knees and trying to catch his breath. Soseh and Remus were still about thirty yards back.

"And which way should we go?" he asked, taking in a deep breath of air. Harry pointed to the left.

"Up those crags," he answered decisively. Sirius took a look at the more difficult path and thought his godson had lost his mind.

"You're kidding, right?" Then a smile broke out on his face. "Hah, hah! Thought you could get me, didn't you?" Sirius slapped his hands together. "Come on. I'll race you to the top!" Sirius transformed into a dog, barked playfully and began to bound ahead.

"Sirius, wait!" Harry called just as Soseh and Remus finally reached his side.

"What's the matter?" Remus puffed, as the three watched Sirius jump ahead and then drop from view.

"That's not the--"

There was a yelp - short and shrill - that pierced the twilight.

"SIRIUS!" Harry yelled, and he began to run up the path that he had warned Sirius not to follow. Remus tried to give chase, but his strength faltered; he slipped on loose stones and tumbled backwards, sliding down the path, only to be caught by Soseh who was herself too tired to move.

As quickly as he could, Harry scrambled to the small ridge of the hill behind which Sirius had disappeared. If his legs had been fresh, he might have continued on and over, but as he was well past exhaustion he stopped short on top. It was fortunate that he did, for as he reached the top he saw that beyond the sharp ridge the rocks fell away into a huge crevasse some twenty feet across. The failing light made it impossible to see more than a few feet down. Indeed, the crevasse was eerily dark, too dark for the conditions.

"Sirius!" Harry cried out, but all he heard was the echo of his own voice and the whistling of the wind between the rocks. Or was he hearing the whimper of a dog? "Lumos Forte!" called Harry, and even though the light emanating from his wand was blinding to look at, its rays were lost in the cavernous depth which kept its bowels hidden from those who might try to peer within. Only the wind made its presence known, and even that was playing tricks on Harry's ears. It began to rhythmically beat against the rocks with a sound reminiscent of an enormous Hippogriff taking flight.

"SIRIUS!" Harry cried again. His voice was panicked and, for a moment, he was lost, his mind not knowing which way to turn, and then it turned for help. Certainly Remus would know what to do.

"Remus, can you--"

Down the hill where the two paths had forked, at the spot where Soseh had stopped Remus from falling further, there was no one. Harry stood and yelled, "Remus!" There was no answer. A gust of wind whipped at Harry's face, nearly pushing him over into the crevasse. Surely they would not have left, unless... unless....

"REMUS! SOSEH!" Harry cried out, but the wind was howling furiously now, making it impossible to hear anything else. As the stars began to break out across the night's curtain of black, Harry turned his gaze upward. A solitary something slipped across the night sky, quickly disappearing over the mountain's peaks, blotting out the little pinpricks of burgeoning light as it passed. Harry was sure he'd seen that something the night before.

"No, no, no, no, NOOO!" he screamed to the sky, and, for a moment, the earth shook beneath his feet sending showers of rocks tumbling down the mountain.

The only company Harry had now was the crimson and gold glimmer that marked, in to Harry's eyes alone, the path he was to take to reach the lair of Singehorn. It was calling him to follow, beckoning him to the duty for which he was destined. Harry's left foot slid down from the ridge toward the lighted trail, and then he heard it again - a whimper; it had to be a whimper. He crawled back to the ridge, pointed his wand into the crevasse, and shot a blast of red sparks. For the first few feet, the tiny flares shone bright, but then disappeared into nothingness.

Harry cast one more glance at the shimmering path that was calling him onward, but chose instead to climb into the darkness that had swallowed Sirius. He slipped his wand away and lowered his legs over the edge of the ridge, feeling for something that would give him a toe hold, but finding none. Looking down it was as if he were swimming in a pool of darkness that rose to his waist; below that line, he could see nothing. He slid his torso lower, losing his best handhold, and still his feet felt nothing but a sheer wall. Finally, he lowered himself until he was only hanging from his fingertips. "Just like being tossed off your broom," he whispered to himself, reassuringly.

Swinging from side to side, he felt the tip of his toe brush against something. Whether it was this sensation, or simple exhaustion, his fingers let go their clutch and he began to fall downward. His stomach lurched in his throat and his hands swung wildly about reaching for anything, and finding nothing. It felt an eternity, falling in the utter darkness, not even the light of the stars shining down from above. Then, suddenly, he was met by the earth, landing hard on his left side and feeling the bones in his left arm snap under his weight. He cried out in pain, grabbing his left arm with his right. His cries echoed back, but their return tone was dull and deadened.

If the bottom had been stone, he surely would have shattered into pieces, but it was thick and soft, layered in what felt like a spongy moss. The air was still here and heavy with a rich, damp, loamy odour that reminded Harry of the Burrow in spring. He twisted and rose up on his knees. He tried to set the break using his wand, and perhaps he did, but not well. He winced in pain trying to move the fingers of his left arm, and was sure that it would snap again if he put any real pressure on it.

"Sirius," he whispered, not sure why he was keeping his voice low. "Sirius."

Harry lit his wand, which was again blinding to look at, but the light reflected off nothing, not even the mossy floor on which Harry now stood. An eerie feeling crawled up his spine, and he twisted his head around hoping to catch the eyes that he surely felt were fixed on him, but all was darkness. He had no idea which way to go, and so decided to mark off a square, and then widen it ever outward. He was on his third pass when he came to a wall, and even with his lit wand right up next to its surface he could not make out the stone of which it was made. He tried some counter hexes that sometimes worked against concealment charms, but they had no effect. The edge of the wall, running vertically upward, was smooth and offered no foothold for a return trip up. Harry continued to widen his pattern.

On the fifth pass, he saw a glimmer on the ground; it was Sirius' wand. Harry held his own wand higher up into the air, and saw black shining back against the nothingness. It was Sirius as a dog. When Harry came up and placed his hand against Sirius' side, the dog recoiled in pain, but made no sound other than the short, shallow breaths that were the only thing to be heard in the darkness. Harry held out his wand and a blue light fell onto Sirius' fur.

"It's your ribs," said Harry. "You've punctured a lung... maybe more." He looked up, hoping to find a way out, but all that looked down at him was more inky blackness. Then his attention returned to Sirius, and he tried another spell to heal his lung, but it didn't work. The dog continued to wheeze, and then let out a short whimper. In little more than a moment, the dog was man and he looked miserable.

"I... can't... breath," Sirius wheezed, gasping at every word. A trickle of blood slipped out the edge of his nose. "I'm... dying."

"You're not dying!" said Harry sternly, but, inside, he thought Sirius might be right. He tried another spell, but to no avail. For all he knew.... Harry leaned back, and sat upon the mossy ground. He placed his hand over the spot where Goyle had run him through with a broom last year. He was missing a piece of liver there and was supposed to return St. Mungo's to have it tended to this summer. Instead, he chose to use that spot to hide something more precious: the vivificus stone of cinnabar, the Heart of Asha.

He conjured it into the palm of his hand; the sensation was a bit creepy as he held the warm, moist sphere up in the light of his wand. It was truly amazing that such a small stone could resonate the powers of a wizard one-hundred fold. With its help, Harry had uncovered his special ability to heal, and, using its powers, he had pulled Professor Dumbledore back from the brink of death, had saved the life of a rampaging giant, and had rescued Lucius Malfoy when his left arm had been ripped from its socket. "Wisely done, at least on two accounts," he thought to himself. But it was the healing of Lucius that had most impressed Gabriella's grandmother.

"The worm, Pravus," she had sneered through clenched teeth, as if she had known the cruel dark wizard personally, "crawls throughout eternity, forever mournful of how he turned the stone to darkness. How great then shall be the reward for he who turns the stone to light even in the darkest hour?"

Right now, however, Harry's need was more practical. He cast a levitation spell and suspended it in midair.

"Out of bravery, fire." He blasted it with an incendiary spell.

"Out of wisdom, blood." He opened a small gash in the palm of his left hand and then grasped the ball, letting his blood flow freely into the sphere. Instantly, all became white and Harry knew that he was being asked once again for his intention. For the briefest of moments, he considered healing his own arm first, and a swirl of grey appeared before him, spinning like a tiny tornado. But he knew that he mustn't use the stone on himself. Use of the stone for personal gain was forbidden to members of the Votary and all who had sworn to protect it. So it was with Gabriella and her family, whose line descended directly from the family that had saved the life of Asha, a deed that began the blood-oath between wizard and beast.

"Out of love, true power... Sirius," he whispered to the nothingness, and the tiny tornado scattered like so many leaves on a gusty fall day. In its place, a burst of colour appeared before him that coalesced into the image of his godfather laying in the darkness. "Heal him," Harry commanded, and the image faded then burst like a Filibuster Firework leaving nothing but darkness behind and a solitary pinpoint of light, pure light, the life-force of Sirius. With his mind, Harry reached out and held the light in his hands, pouring his own life force into Sirius and guiding it to heal his wounds. Without the help of the stone, Harry might have placed his own life at risk as he had with Lucius the year before. But with its help, he had power to spare, and once the healing was complete, he pulled away and fell bodily backward next to Sirius on the soft, loamy floor of the crevasse, the stone still clutched tightly in his hand.

He heard Sirius take a short breath, and then a full deep gulp of air, as if broaching the surface of the lake after a deep underwater swim to rescue friends. Harry was a bit dizzy, but sat back up.

"Are you okay?" Harry asked.

"You... you used the stone?" a groggy Sirius asked in return. He spoke as if he was uttering words for the first time.

"Yeah," Harry answered. He held up his wand, a flash of purple light filled the darkness, and the stone vanished from his hand. Harry bent over, ever so slightly, as the stone found its home within him. "Don't tell anyone that I have it, okay?" Sirius looked upward at the darkness surrounding them.

"I wonder if we'll have the chance to ever tell anybody anything again," he said. "Gees, and I thought Azkaban was bad." He climbed to his feet and grabbed Harry's arm to help him up as well, not realizing that it was broken. When Harry groaned, Sirius asked, "You broke it?"

"It's reset, but not well healed," Harry answered. "It's certainly not up to Madame Pomfrey's standards, and it won't be of any use if we need to climb out of here."

"Why don't you use the stone to--" Sirius began, but then cut himself short, already knowing the answer. "Stupid rules," he muttered under his breath.

Slowly, the two made their way back to one of the walls of the crevasse. By the light of Harry's wand, they could see each other, but nothing else. When they found the wall, it was sheer and smooth, and though they followed it for some distance, its form and texture remained flat and constant.

"It's like a giant sheet of glass," Sirius said, kicking it in frustration.

"Like a mirror," Harry muttered, more to himself than to Sirius. "It's like we're trapped inside a sheet of glass." His mind wandered back to the year before when he and Draco were cleaning the cellars and he trapped Peeves behind a glass mirror. He had uttered a spell without really knowing what the spell was. He placed his hands against the wall. "You're looking at us, aren't you?" he whispered to the glass. "Like rats in a maze."

"What are you talking about, Harry?" asked Sirius, wondering if, perhaps, Harry was beginning to lose it.

"Hold my hand, Sirius," Harry said. Sirius reached over and took it, thinking that Harry was growing frightened.

"Don't worry, Harry. I'll figure out a way to--"

"Speculum Expedé!" Harry called out, holding his wand directly at the wall of the crevasse. There was a tremendous whoosh, a moment of utter silence, and then a large snap. Suddenly, the stars appeared above their heads, and the wind whipped at their faces. They were back on the mountain at the edge of the ridge, looking into the darkness below. Sirius just shook his head in amazement.

"One-hundred percent Potter, as sure as I'm standing here." Sirius smiled, and ruffled Harry's hair. "Quick, let's gather the others and be on our way; there's still time, I'm sure."

It took about thirty minutes before Sirius stopped calling Remus' name, and he only broke off then because his voice was growing hoarse.

"I think they were carried off," was all that Harry would say, unwilling to offer anymore of an answer to Sirius' questions, which, to Harry's relief, were growing more infrequent as his godfather's voice faltered.

They had followed the more difficult path up the mountain side, and it was slow going. Harry had little use of his right arm and was well past the point of exhaustion. Fortunately Sirius had renewed energy, and with his godfather's help, Harry made it over the trickier parts of the climb and out onto a vast open space that was very much out of place in what had been, to this point, a stark rockscape.

The crescent moon was climbing in the evening sky and offered just enough light to reveal an enormous meadow covered in thick grass that rose well over waist high. The glimmering path Harry had been following led straight to the middle of this vast clearing, and then disappeared.

"I don't understand," said Harry, doubled over and catching his breath. "The path ends just ahead; this can't be Singehorn's lair."

"Then... we press... on... 'till we... pick it up... again," Sirius gasped in short sharp breaths. He began to step forward, but then stopped himself, waiting for Harry's decision. Harry simply nodded and continued forward through the tall dried grass following all that was left of the glimmering trail.

When they came to the end of the path, they found a collection of large flat stones that spanned some ten to twenty feet across. If it had been made of concrete, Harry would have thought it a landing site for Muggle helicopters. As it was, the stones were numerous and uneven, like some sort of circular checkerboard that lay in ruin after thousands of years. He scanned the horizon for anything that might seem familiar, might give him some idea of where to go next, but found nothing. He looked back and the glimmering trail that he had been following was gone. Sirius put his hand on Harry's shoulder and pointed across the field of dead grass to a break in some rocks that might be considered a path that led up toward the sharp peaks of the mountain.

"How 'bout we try over there?" he asked. He took a step, and Harry grabbed him by the shoulder. Every fibre of his being was telling him not to move.

"We're here," Harry whispered.

The moment the words left his lips, a tremendous gust of wind swirled about them. Dust and small stones blew off the rocks, but the tall, dead grass just outside the circle remained calm and still. Another moment later, the wind stopped and Sirius lowered his arm from across his eyes. The two men were looking at each other when they felt it first in their feet - a dull thwump. Then again - thwump. They both looked down, half-expecting something to crawl up through the stones. Then their ears heard it - thwump, thwump, thwump. It wasn't a rhythmic sound; it was more like hearing the first drops of rain striking the rooftops - thwump... thwump, thwump... thwump. But the sound was growing louder, stronger, and soon they could feel the compressions in their bones. It was then that they stopped looking at their feet and looked up to the sky.

There they were, looming up from every side of the mountain, dark enormous wings beating downward with thunderous blasts of air - THWUMP! There were at least a dozen dragons and probably more that had yet to come into view.

"Merlin, save us," Sirius whispered, squeezing Harry's good arm, as the procession of dragons rose high above them in every direction.

Harry had mentally prepared himself to meet the great dragon Singehorn, and perhaps his family. The possibility of facing down nearly twenty dragons had never crossed his mind, and he was having difficulty processing what he must do. He considered pulling out his wand, but Sirius had his arm, and right now Harry was appreciating the added support.

Suddenly, a great black dragon with fiery red eyes let out something of a howl that nearly knocked the two wizards to the ground. An instant later, all the circling dragons let go their fiery breath in a deafening roar that finally forced the pair to their knees as they covered their ears. The flames lit the high grass surrounding them and sent up an inferno that reached three stories into the sky. They were enveloped in flame, with the only thing keeping them safe being the ring of rocks. Harry could barely stand the heat, sweat dripping from his brow.

"This is it," Harry thought. "I've failed and this is my punishment." But Sirius didn't deserve to die like this. "Let him go!" Harry yelled out. "It's me you want!" But Harry couldn't see anything; the flames leapt so high into the air they obscured his view in every direction. Only the beating of wings rocking the earth let him know that the dragons were still out there. They were going to die in the punishing heat.

"Never thought we'd be fried in a skillet like a couple of sausages," snarled Sirius. He pulled out his wand, if for no other reason than it gave him comfort. Unable to do anything, Sirius let out a great growl.

It was then that a figure in white robes appeared, walking as if coming from the distant peaks through the very flames themselves. He wore no hood and was holding something in both his hands like a serving tray. His pace was slow and deliberate, but it wasn't long before the man cleared the flames, his robes spotless, and joined Harry and Sirius on the rocks. Harry knew at once who he was. Sirius, however, was dumbfounded.

"Sirius," Harry said, wonderment of what he'd just seen holding back a flash of anger, "this is the creature that saved us last night, Soseh's friend. He calls himself Dakhil Barghouti."

Dakhil bowed his head slightly to Sirius and said, "Mr. Black, it is a pleasure to meet you." The tone in Dakhil's voice was calm and serene, almost deferential, as if the three were meeting for cocktails at a posh nightclub. If anything, the heat grew more intense.

"Yeah," said Sirius, "you too." He looked about to see who or what else might appear through the flames; there was nothing but crimson fire.

Dakhil held out the white robes that were folded neatly in the palms of his hands. There was no look of satisfaction or disappointment. His expression was utterly inscrutable.

"The time has come... boy."