Harry Potter and the Birth of a New Sun

Harry Potter and The Birth of a New Sun

Chapter 6 - Too Close an Encounter

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When Harry shut the door to his room and descended the stairs he was, perhaps, the happiest he had ever been in all his life. The sun's rays exploded through the coloured windows above and cast a golden image on the floor below, tinged with enough red to make Harry think fleetingly of Fawkes. His hair a tangled mess, he wore a T-shirt, boxers and socks, one with a rather large hole through which the large toe of his right foot protruded. He scratched his stomach as his nose took in the scent of something that resembled the smell of burning ham. He took one step down and turned to look back at his room. His room? His house? No, not really. Not anymore. And he was grateful for that and smiled all the more as the aroma of fresh coffee filled the air, perhaps the only thing Sirius could prepare properly.

When he pushed open the doors to the kitchen of number twelve, Grimmauld Place, he found Sirius working feverishly in front of the stove. His wand was casting spell after spell, not so much for the food preparation, but in an effort to clear the smoke that was billowing throughout the room. Harry walked over and turned down the flame with a wave of his hand.

"Here," he said to his godfather, "let me help." Sirius looked wounded.

"No, really, I wanted to make you breakfast. You know, first day of school and all." He cracked an egg and put both liquid and shell in the same bowl and started mixing it with his wand. Harry chuckled kindly and shook his head in disbelief. It was great to be free of Privet Drive, to be here with his godfather, to feel wanted and appreciated. It was probably the first time he had ever opened a package of bacon for breakfast without a sour taste in his mouth. He gave Sirius a look that said, "Get real," and then positioned himself squarely in front of the stove.

"I'm not bad at this," offered Harry, cracking four eggs at once into a bowl and then discarding the shells with another flick of his wand. Sirius shrugged and started to sit, but Harry stopped him. "Oh no you don't. You need to see how this is done, and when I come back for Christmas it'll be your turn." Sirius seemed to like the challenge, and the idea that he would be spending Christmas with Harry.

"You know," said Sirius pouring two cups of coffee, "I hear New York is spectacular at Christmas time. Have you ever been to the States?" Harry shook his head. "Maybe we could go for a quick visit."

"I promised Gabri--"

"Visit," Sirius cut in. "That's all. Maybe Gab can come along."

"If we're not at war," Harry said glumly.

"Or if the war's over by then," suggested Sirius with more optimism. Harry nodded plating the food and levitating the plates to the table.

Sirius ate like a dog and finished in about three minutes. Harry was more pensive, and while he did finish, it took him much longer. The nicest thing about being of age was that he didn't have to walk or take a car to go to King's Cross Station. For that matter, he didn't need to go to King's Cross at all; he could Apparate to Hogsmeade and walk in from there. Only the Head Boy and Head Girl had to take the train with their housemates, and this year the Head Girl was none other than Hermione Granger. Odd, Harry thought, considering she'd nearly killed Theodore Nott the year before. He smiled and took another sip of coffee. Since Hermione and her boyfriend, Ron, were inseparable and since Harry and Ron were inseparable, Harry would be travelling too. When Harry told Gabriella he would be going to Hogwarts by train, her face had fallen momentarily and grown concerned.

"Then I go as well," she had declared, shivering slightly. In her mind's eye, she had seen something, or felt something, but what it was she wouldn't say. She was never as confident about her visions as her mother, Soseh. The thought sent a cold chill down Harry's spine as the warm coffee slipped down his throat.

"Any more bacon?" asked Sirius rummaging through the crusted pans about the stove.

"That black stuff you fried up over there on the side is bacon; at least it used to be."

Sirius poked at it a few times, and then finally took a bite. His face took on a somewhat bitter look as it scrunched ever so slightly, and then he took another bite, shrugging his shoulders. His teeth and tongue covered in charcoal he said, "You'd better get ready. Is your trunk packed?" He glanced at the hourglass on the counter.

"Er... yeah," Harry fibbed. "Just a few more things." He levitated his plate to the sink which was piled high with pots and pans from the last few days. "Do you want me to take care of these before I--"

"I'll take care of it," Sirius lied. "Go get yourself ready." Harry shrugged and nodded his head, and started up the stairs, once again scratching his stomach and knowing full well it would be days, perhaps weeks, before the sink was cleared.

It was strange really, getting ready for his last year at Hogwarts. Usually he was rushed in the hustle and bustle of the Weasley family. This year, however, Harry wanted to be with his own family -- Sirius Black. And it was the best decision he'd ever made. It had only been a few days, but in that short time Sirius and Harry had done absolutely... nothing. There were opportunities to talk about the old days when Sirius palled around with James; there were chances to practice advanced spells or learn the operation of some of the golden instruments that still lined the walls in the Black family study; there were times when they could have discussed how Harry brought Sirius back from behind the curtain; but at every turn, at every open door, Harry and Sirius simply took the time to enjoy each other in the here and now. They played chess; they played cards; they raced Caduceuses across the London sky at night; they drank, probably too much; and they laughed more than they had laughed in a long, long time. Sirius' eyes had never been brighter, and Harry's heart had never been lighter.

This time, when Harry readied himself at the front door to leave, there was no dark cloud hanging over their heads, but rather an eager excitement about the year to come and what it would bring. They drew strength from each other, knowing that whatever war was around the corner, whatever darkness rose on the horizon, they would face it together. For a moment, they just stared at each other and around the room.

"Er... Right, then," began Sirius. "Off you go." He nervously patted the sides of his hips with his hands.

"I'll... I'll owl you when I get in," replied Harry. Sirius nodded. Silence. "Right, then." There was another long pause. "Bloody hell," Harry cursed and he walked over and pulled Sirius to him tightly in a grand hug. Sirius responded in kind.

They held each other for more than a moment and then Sirius whispered in a somewhat raspy voice, "Be careful." Harry pulled away, wearing an enormous smile.

"I've never been anything but!" He winked, there was a crack, and he was gone.

He Apparated to an out of the way location just down the street from King's Cross Station and began walking. The late morning was clear, and he was surprised to find the air so cold. He'd been spending so much time inside with Sirius he hadn't thought much about the weather. His coat was in his trunk, and he didn't feel much like opening that in the middle of a street filled with Muggles. He shivered, rubbed his arms, and continued on his way. He was coming to the first steps of the station when a beggar boldly stepped in front of him demanding a donation. Wearing a good three days' stubble, his clothes were filthy, and his breath smelled strongly of alcohol.

"Come on, mate," he wheezed. "Just a pound fer me condition. I ain't eaten in days."

"Sorry," Harry said earnestly, "I don't have a pound."

"Surely a schillin'?"

Harry kept walking, trying to ignore the intruder. "Really," he said over his shoulder, "I don't have any money." The man grabbed Harry by the arm.

"I can hear the jingle in yer pants, boy!" It was true that Harry had a few Galleons in his pocket, but no Muggle money of any sort. He was sorry for that, but he was irritated by being called a boy and he turned to face the beggar.

"Call me a boy again, and you--"

"You'll what!" spat the drunk, stepping toe-to-toe with Harry. The sight was a bit comical, since Harry was not the small child he had once been. Maybe Ron had him by a couple of inches, but he was still a strapping young man, and he stood a good four inches taller than his adversary. Curling the fingers of his right hand, he was about to say just what he'd do when a familiar tingling ran up his spine. He grabbed for his wand, but too late. Or at least it would have been if he had been the target. The drunk stood motionless, eyes glazed, body frozen in position. Harry looked up just as a hand gently took him by the arm.

"Sorry about that, sir," said a young man not much older than Harry. "I... er... I wasn't paying attention. Won't happen again, I promise."

The man, still in his teens, wore a dark gray suit with thin blue piping, a burgundy tie and a white shirt. The dark glasses reminded Harry of old James Bond movies, but the white tennis shoes with red laces told Harry at once he was dealing with a wizard. Then he noticed the shape of the jaw, the voice, but the hair--

"Finnius?" Harry asked, wondering if he was talking to the former Head Boy of Hufflepuff who, at graduation, had the start of a beard and hair that hung down to his waist. "I thought you were going to start a band? The... er, The Grindly Gutters?"

"Erm," said Finnius, looking around nervously, "can we keep going?"

"Why? What's the matter?"

"Well... see, I'm supposed to--"

"Not you?" Harry exclaimed in disbelief. "Surely the Ministry--"

Finnius pulled Harry by the arm just as the drunk began to come to his senses. Quickly, they climbed the steps and found themselves in a sea of people heading to their platforms at King's Cross. Perspiration was popping out on Finnius' forehead and Harry wondered if he hadn't wet himself, he looked so nervous. "It's just... well, I promised Tonks and I've already made a mess of things."

"You work with Tonks?" Harry asked with a bit more excitement and interest. He hadn't heard from her all summer, and she wasn't at the Joining with Singehorn. "Is she okay? Where is she?" Finnius continued to usher Harry toward platform nine and three-quarters holding Harry with his right hand and wiping his brow with his left.

"Yeah, well, she's the one that convinced me I could be an Auror. Said she'd train me, see... herself. But since that business at the Ministry last year, she's been in and out of the hospital and... well, now she's in and... well, she made me promise. See?"

Harry didn't see, and he was getting a bit irritated. He yanked his arm out of Finnius' grip. "What do you mean she's in the hospital? What's wrong?" Finnius looked away from Harry's intense gaze.

"Ah, here we are." They were at the platform. "Just in time, too!" Before Harry could say another word, Finnius gave him a bit of a shove and he plunged through the wall and found himself on the other side, standing just in front of the Hogwarts Express. Harry dropped his trunk, reached for his wand and had started back toward the wall when he was tackled from the side. The flash of raven black hair in his face told him at once it was Gabriella.

"You made it!" she cried. "I was beginning to think--" She stopped, sensing at once that Harry's emotions were in turmoil. "What's wrong?" And then she too looked at the wall leading to the outside world. "Who's out there?"

The frustration on Harry's face was clear; he was about to charge back out when his eyes caught something he had never seen before: Neville Longbottom was hugging his parents, Frank and Alice, good-bye. Alice held his face in her hands and planted a big wet kiss on his cheek. They were all smiles as Neville wiped it with his sleeve. Then Frank Longbottom handed his son something and, as Neville wrapped his fingers about the object, a more serious look came into his eyes. His dad slapped him on the shoulder and a thin smile appeared again as Neville boarded the train.

"He's Head Boy," Gabriella said warmly.

Harry looked at Gabriella, then at the wall behind, and back to the train, then back to the wall. "Come on, let's--"

"ALL ABOARD!" the conductor called.

"Dean said he'd save us a spot," said Gabriella, taking hold of Harry's hand. Harry took one last look at the wall behind them, and then the two boarded the train. The corridor was crowded with students, particularly first years who were completely confused. What was noticeable, however, was that the normal demarcation of house zones seemed to be somewhat blurred. There were Slytherins purposefully mixing in with Ravenclaws near the front of the train, and a group of third year Hufflepuffs and Gryffindors in another carriage playing snap. A few cars down, Harry just caught a glimpse of someone in Gryffindor robes disappearing into a carriage and so he and Gabriella followed. He pushed open the carriage door, only to walk in on Neville and Helen kissing; a sweet fragrance filled the air.

"Oh," said Harry. "Sorry." Neville had Helen up against the wall and there was some sort of vine with delicate pink flowers wrapping itself around one of her arms and abdomen. She was wearing a smile and blushing slightly. "Er... seen Dean?" Neville, who seemed about three inches taller than when Harry last saw him, which was only a few weeks ago, spoke through a beaming smile.

"Yeah, he's up forward." Then, with a confident flick of his wand, Neville shut the door in Harry's face, following that with a charm that sealed it tight. Gabriella just raised her eyebrows and smiled.

"See what happens when you're late." She smacked Harry's stomach. "That could have been us!"

They continued moving forward past various carriages when the flash of red hair caught Harry's eye. It was Ron, and he was bickering with Hermione. The floor of the carriage they were in was littered with clothes, books and various things Harry knew to be Ron's, most notably because of the overabundance of socks.

"Honestly, Ronald," Hermione said in a scolding voice, as if talking to a four year old. "If you don't find it soon you'll have to tell Professor Flitwick, and if you won't, I will."

"Is that a threat?" shot back Ron, holding both hands on his hips and kicking at the pile of clothes on the floor. Gabriella walked in first.

"Is there something wrong?" she asked gently, Harry only a step behind her.

"No, nothing's wrong," snapped Ron immediately. "Er... hey, mate!" he said with a wave at Harry.

"He's lost his wand," exclaimed Hermione.

"I haven't lost anything," retorted Ron in defiance. "I've just... er..."

"Have you tried summoning it?" asked Harry, starting to rummage through the clothes on the carriage floor. The steeled look of fire in Ron's eyes said that they had certainly tried that and many other things and would Harry just not make any other suggestions because Hermione had already made every possible suggestion known in the Wizarding world and none of them had worked.

"Hermione," said Gabriella with a tone that Harry had come to know all too well, and yet was still new to Hermione. "It's possible that one of my Slytherin housemates is playing a trick, most likely Teddy. Would you join me and perhaps together we can solve this little problem." Knowing Hermione's disposition toward Nott, Harry wondered if it was a wise idea to put the two in close proximity, but Gabriella may have been on to something. Certainly Nott would have the motivation to pull a stunt like this, but maybe Gabriella just wanted to get Hermione away from Ron for a bit. He smiled to himself realizing that it was probably both.

"Sure," said Hermione. She cast one more look at Ron before she left and said, "And don't you stop looking!" The moment the girls departed, Ron flopped down on the carriage bench and blew the hair out of his eyes.

"Bloody hell."

"Well, Fred or George can certainly get you a new wand," offered Harry, sitting down across from Ron. "Merlin knows what it would do to you if you tried to cast a spell." Ron groaned. "Or maybe we can sneak out this weekend and Apparate to Ollivanders." Unfortunately, Ron's face did not brighten at the suggestion.

"Look at us, Harry," said Ron with a whimsical look on his face, tinged with a bit of sourness. "We were here six years ago, you and me. Do you remember?"

There was a moment of silence as Harry watched the countryside slip by. It wasn't the same train as six years ago, but it might as well have been.

"Yeah," said Harry, almost in a whisper as he nodded his head, "I remember."

"Things haven't changed much."

"They've changed loads." Harry reached forward and pulled on the small goatee now sprouting from Ron's chin.

"Really?" asked Ron with a snicker. "Back then you were Harry Potter, The Boy Who Lived, and I was Ron Weasley with a smudge of dirt on my nose."

"That's not--"

"Now we're both of age and you're Harry Potter, Protector, Guardian and Emissary, the wizard that destroyed Voldemort and brought peace with the giants, and I'm Ron Weasley the kid that can't find his BLOODY WAND!" At the last words, he stood up, kicked at the wall, and put his boot all the way through.

Harry was trying to muster something to say when the door began to open. Angry, Ron instinctively reached for his wand to slam the door shut, but it wasn't there. He growled like a lion and was about to physically slam the door shut when Patrick O'Riley, now in his second year, poked his head through.

"Was that yeh, Ron?" asked Patrick brightly, nodding his head toward the hole that now protruded into the corridor. Then he noticed Harry. "Hey, Harry! Dean said yeh were going to be up in his carriage."

"Later," answered Harry. "Right now, I'm just--"

"Patrick," cut in Ron, doing his best to remain calm, "we don't have time to--"

"Prob'ly mad 'bout losin' this," interrupted Patrick, and he held up Ron's wand. For a moment Ron sputtered, unable to speak. Finally, he grabbed the wand and pulled it close, cradling it like a baby as a wave of relief passed over his body.

"Where'd you find it?" asked Harry.

"Oh, I didn't," said Patrick, "James did. When he showed it teh me, I knew at once whose it was. He was on his way teh take it teh Flitwick, but I told him I'd get it teh yeh."

"Er... thanks," answered Ron. "You're okay, kid." At last Ron smiled as he slipped his wand away.

"Why don't you and James stay in here," offered Harry. "I haven't heard from the Changs all summer and was wondering how Cho was doing." At these words, Patrick became noticeably uncomfortable.

"Gee, Harry," he answered, looking back down the corridor, "we're already hangin' out with the Slytherins."

"Slytherins?" asked Harry. "I thought James was going to start Gryffindor this year. He knows he can pick whatever house he wants doesn't he?"

"Yeah, well, he changed his mind o'er the summer, I guess." Again he glanced nervously down the hallway. "Well... see yeh!" He smiled and disappeared down the corridor to the back of the train.

"That was a bit odd," said Ron, sweeping away a few pairs of socks with his hand and sitting down on the bench.

"Yeah, it was."

"Why on earth would anybody choose Slytherin over Gryffindor? Everyone knows they're nothing but a bunch of--"

"Yes?" Gabriella stood at the open door, her fingers drumming against the frame.

"Er...."

"...Sweethearts!" chimed Hermione gaily as she stepped into the carriage with Gabriella. "Except maybe... Teddy." She flopped down next to Ron.

"He didn't take it too well when we asked if he'd stolen Ron's wand," continued Gabriella as she sat next to Harry. Hermione took Ron's hand and pulled him close to her.

"No, but he didn't dare use a cross word or raise his voice," said Hermione. "Quite the gentleman for a change."

"Being nearly killed can do that to some people," said Ron.

"I could sense right away he was telling the truth," said Gabriella, "so we decided to come back. Patrick told us he found your wand."

"No, James Chang found it," said Harry. "Patrick only returned it. Did he tell you that James has decided to go with Slytherin this year?"

"There, you see!" said Gabriella, "Another fine example. James was one of the better first year students as I recall." Ron pulled out his wand and looked at it closely.

"I should probably have it examined," he said. "Maybe Nott put him up to it."

"Oh, don't be ridiculous," said Hermione, slapping his hand. Then she turned to Harry, trying hard to ignore the mess on the floor. "So how's Sirius doing at Grimmauld Place?"

The hours passed quickly as lunch came and the late afternoon brought drooping eyelids to everyone. Dean never made his way back to the carriage, and they never endeavoured to move further up the train. They were all nodding off to sleep when the train began to slow.

"Hogsmeade?" asked Ron groggily. The midday sun seemed suddenly to fade to darkness, as if someone had just pulled down the curtain.

"No," said Hermione with a bit of concern. "It's too early." They all noticed the last word leave her lips in a puff of smoke -- the air was growing colder by the second. They knew at once what was happening and each had their wand at the ready. The darkness outside the train filled with flashes of light. Ministry guards had moved out to meet the onslaught, which was centred toward the front of the train. Incantations filled the air as Patronus after Patronus was being sent out against the attacking Dementors. There were screams all up and down the corridors, mostly from the youngest students.

"Ron," said Hermione with a commanding voice. "Help me gather the first years." Ron was up in a flash, and a moment later his voice was barking orders down the corridor for everyone to remain calm, calling for the first years to muster at the galley. Students began to move toward the rear of the train, away from the fighting.

"They're looking for you, Harry," said Gabriella, holding her wand at the window. She cast a spell at the glass, protecting it from attack, just as other windows began to shatter about the train.

"Well they're about to find me!" shot Harry as he started for the door. Gabriella grabbed his arm.

"You can't be serious. Who knows how many are out there. Your best bet is using the train as a--" The train lurched forward, causing collective screams all up and down the corridor. Then it began to move -- chug... choo-choo... chug... choo-choo... It was quickly gathering speed. There was another flurry of bright white flashes of light cast against the darkness, and the afternoon light suddenly reappeared and the warmth returned. Everyone cheered as the veil of darkness became nothing more than a dark cloud on the horizon behind the train.

A look of relief spread across Gabriella's face, but darkness still remained in Harry's eyes as he reached and grabbed the wrist of the hand that was holding his arm. Slowly, but firmly he pulled her hand away, and looked at her with a very grim expression. She sensed his emotions before he said the words and she didn't like what she was feeling. Finally, he spoke in a stern and heated voice.

"Don't EVER do that again."

"But--"

There was a scream that Harry knew at once to be Ginny's. In a flash, he was out the door and down the corridor, only a step ahead of Neville Longbottom, and two steps behind Ron. Ginny was on her knees in the carriage, broken glass everywhere and tears streaming down her eyes. She grabbed her brother by his sleeve.

"Do something, Ron!" she cried out. "They've taken him. They've taken Dean!"

"But... but he's right here, Gin" answered Ron, looking at Dean who was still seated on his chair, but looking out the window at the rural setting running past. It was Gabriella who noticed first.

"Oh, no," she whispered, stepping past Harry and turning Dean to face them all. There was a collective gasp. He was still breathing, but his eyes were blank, his face sunken, and his skin almost pale. He gave them no reaction at all. Ginny stood up and wrapped him in her arms, rocking him back and forth. On her finger was the ring Dean had given her the year before. The firestone with which it was set had lost its brilliant glow, its fire, its love had been extinguished.

"They've taken him," she cried again. "They've taken his soul."