Harry Potter and the Birth of a New Sun

Harry Potter and the Birth of a New Sun

Chapter 8 - Engaged

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The Snitch flitted upward, time and time again, only to be snatched into his hand after every escape. He was actually getting quite good at it really. Nearly twenty minutes without a--

"Damn!"

The Snitch slipped through Dean's fingers and began to zip about the boys' dormitory, bouncing off the wall above Harry's head. With blinding speed and catlike reflexes few but Ginny Weasley could appreciate, Harry had his hand around the winged orb.

"That was great, Dean!" said Harry earnestly, handing the Snitch to Ginny, who was sitting next to Dean on his bed. While Dean was practicing, Harry had been reading a story headlined Miracle at St. Mungo's which described how nearly a dozen patients, all victims of Dementor attacks, had suddenly and inexplicably awakened - their souls intact. He turned the page with a smile as Dean continued to practice.

Madame Pomfrey had prescribed the exercise of Snitch snatching as a sort of therapy to help Dean regain control of his neuro-synapses. Ever since his soul had been returned by Harry, Dean was feeling somewhat disconnected from himself. It was hard to explain just exactly how he was disconnected. Sometimes he would reach for something, like a shaker of salt, and it would fumble through his fingers for no reason. Sometimes his love for Ginny was strong, while at other times it seemed as if he had no feelings for her at all. In Magical Arts, Dean would paint portraits of birds, animals, or even people, but the images wouldn't move; they remained lifeless on the canvass. It was all very strange, and no one, not even the Healers from St. Mungo's, knew exactly what to do.

"No one's ever had their soul reattached," Madame Pomfrey had said shortly after they had arrived at Hogwarts. Her solution was to try to re-stitch Dean's soul by having him exercise both body and spirit.

Ginny held steadfast at Dean's side; a lesser woman would have left at once. Watching the two of them these last few days, Harry had wondered if his love for Gabriella would be able to withstand such a test of faith. Somewhere, deep down inside, he felt it would, and that perhaps it already had, and he smiled as Ginny stroked Dean's back, encouraging him to try again.

"Nah, Gin," answered Dean, truly exhausted. "I'm... a bit tired."

"You're right, sweetheart," Ginny replied. "Rest a bit and we can go to dinner later."

"Thanks," said Dean with a weak smile. They kissed and Ginny turned toward the staircase leading down to the common room.

They had been at Hogwarts for three days and even though the familiar rhythm of classes and course work pulsed on, something was distinctly different. Maybe it was the attack on the train, the anticipation of what was to come, or simply that they were in their final year. Whatever it was, there existed, most certainly, a palpable sense of anticipation, as if at any moment something spectacularly wonderful, or devastatingly dreadful, was about to happen.

As Ginny stepped out of their room, Harry turned to Dean and said warmly, "She's wonderful, isn't she?"

"She's my world, Harry." He lay down on his bed, folding his arms behind his head. "I wish I knew why... sometimes..." Dean let out a large sigh and turned over on his side, his back toward Harry. Over the last year, Dean had grown confident in his relationship with Ginny, and Harry no longer shook the foundation on which their relationship was anchored. Dean continued, "I think... maybe this year at Christmas--"

There was a sudden scream from down in the Gryffindor common room. It was Hermione's scream; Harry was sure. Not an instant later, Ginny cried out, followed by a cacophony of screeches that rivalled the arriving owls during the morning post. In an instant, both Harry and Dean had their wands at the ready, and started cautiously for the landing. Just as Harry was about to look down on the common room below, Patrick appeared from the second years' dormitory, his wand also drawn and his face concerned. There was a third year passing Patrick and running in the other direction, trying to escape whatever danger was causing the commotion. Harry didn't recognize the boy from behind, but the thought of a coward in his house made the hair at the back of his neck bristle. "A Gryffindor?" Harry cried out.

The moment's distraction was enough to cause Dean to bump him slightly from behind. Harry tried to adjust his footing by stepping forward, only there was nothing on the circular staircase to step out onto. Instead, he completely lost his balance and began tumbling, down and around, head over heals, until he landed prostrate onto the floor. Dazed, he looked up to see Ron on the ground also. Well, almost... he was down to one knee, a look of pure terror in his eyes. Harry grabbed his best friend by the shirtsleeve and pulled himself up, aligning back to back with Ron.

"Where are they?" he cried to Ron over his shoulder, wand at the ready. Quickly, he spun around and saw Hermione looking down at him. "What's going on?" Harry asked excitedly. "Why did you scream?" Then, looking to the side, Harry noticed the large number of Gryffindors looking down at him, all with rather cross expressions on their faces. It was Parvati who stepped over and grabbed him by the scruff of the neck, pulling him away from Ron.

"You idiot!" she hissed under her breath.

Her cheeks a brighter colour of red than Ron's hair, Hermione had to cover her mouth to keep from laughing. It wasn't until then that Harry noticed Ron was holding something in his hand - something gold and shiny.

"Er... so, yeah then..." Ron sputtered. "Well?" Hermione was about to say something when Lavender poked Ron in the shoulder.

"Well, what?" Lavender said sharply. "Go on, Ron. Ask her properly." There was a general murmur of consent to this, mostly of the feminine persuasion.

"Yes, go on, Ron," followed by, "Do it right."

"Bloody hell," Harry whispered, stunned by what he was seeing. Parvati pinched his neck and pulled him to his feet. Dean was stepping slowly down the staircase and came to a stop on the lower flight, wrapping his arm about Ginny's waist. She had been transfixed, but the warm touch caught her attention and she wrapped both her arms about Dean, smiling as she watched her brother propose.

"Yeah, yeah," said Ron, wiping his forehead with his left sleeve while still holding out the ring with his right. He was nervous, his hand was shaking, and Harry wondered if he wouldn't faint at any moment. But when Ron's eyes met Hermione's once more, the shaking stopped and he regained his voice. He held the ring a bit higher.

"As I was saying before our dearest friend dropped in," he cast Harry a glance and smiled, "would you do me the honour of being Mrs. Ronald Weasley." There was a pause. "Or Mrs. Ronald Granger... you know... however that's supposed to work, if you want to keep your--"

He never had the chance to finish. In that instant, Hermione was down on her knees kissing him deeply, and the common room resonated with a cheer that was heard throughout the tower. Later, even Hagrid said he heard the revelry when he was out feeding the venomous lava lizards.

"Well?" cried out Seamus. "Answer him proper!" To this there was rolling chorus of "Here, here!" called out mostly from those of the masculine persuasion. Hermione pulled herself away from Ron's mouth and he held the ring before her.

Hermione held out her hand and said breathlessly, "Yes!" There was another cheer, more resounding than the first, as Ron slipped the diamond ring upon her finger. They kissed again.

Harry wasn't sure who was responsible, but suddenly food and drinks appeared, and before you could blink music was playing, people were dancing and an impromptu party was in full swing in the Gryffindor common room. It was loud and boisterous, but Hermione had set a silencing charm on the walls, and outside of Gryffindor the night was quiet. Harry poured himself a drink and suddenly felt very awkward. Everyone was congratulating Ron and Hermione, hugging them, smiling. Harry sunk back into a corner. Why hadn't Ron told him that he was about to propose? He watched the smiles and the laughter, but somehow couldn't feel any warmth himself. Indeed, the thoughts that were passing through his mind brought back memories of the year before, bad memories of jealously and uncontrollable anger. He gulped the drink, and decided to pour himself another. He filled his glass and walked back to his corner, watching Neville help Dean back up the staircase to the boys' dormitory, when a voice startled him.

"Pretty amazin' ain't it?"

Patrick was seated in a chair against the wall. How long had he been there? Most of the younger students had gone to bed or were ushered away. A slow song began to play and Ron took Hermione in his arms. The candlelight in the common room dimmed and soon everyone was dancing. Harry watched as Ron and Hermione appeared for a moment and then slipped back into the crowd and, suddenly, he realized that things would never be the same.

"Yeah," Harry whispered back, taking another drink. "Amazing."

"I mean," Patrick continued, "to love someone so much." Still sitting, he pulled his knees up to his chin and wrapped his arms around his legs, just gazing at the dancers. "Do yeh think he'd die for her?" The question was odd, but Patrick was young and Harry was a bit drunk, so he didn't question it.

"He'd die for anybody in this room," Harry answered with a strong tone of pride. "Merlin, he almost did last year, more times than I can--" Harry stopped and looked into his glass, drinking the remains in one final gulp. He could feel the burn of the fire-whiskey make its way down his throat as he stared at the empty glass and could feel his heart fill with guilt. How often had he put both of his friends in jeopardy? They would both sacrifice themselves to save Harry, and if the war was truly coming, and it was, Harry knew they'd risk life and limb once again.

"Do yeh think yeh'll marry Gabriella?" Patrick asked, filling the silence. Harry whispered something and the glass in his hand vanished. Patrick raised an eyebrow, but said nothing about the wandless magic.

"Gabriella?" Harry asked, looking blankly ahead. He chuckled to himself, but the laughter was more sad than happy. Already she'd risked her life and the school year hadn't even started. How many more friends would have to die before--

"I don't think I'll marry," said Patrick emphatically. "No kids fer me."

"I'm sorry?" asked Harry. Patrick looked up at him with an expression that was torn, shredded in some way Harry couldn't comprehend, at least not in his present state of mind.

"No kids. No orphans." Patrick uncurled his legs and stood up, walking over to Harry. "I plan teh fight, Harry. There's no room fer love if there's the chance yeh'll die."

"Patrick, that's not true."

"Ain't it? I won't leave grief behind. I won't leave my child without a da. Not like me parents did me. I mean, yeh were a baby fer Merlin's sake, and yer parents were out fightin' Voldemort. Why didn't they just leave well enough alone? Wouldn't yeh rather have 'em at yer side right now?"

Harry was warm, his head cloudy, and the familiar screams were calling from the fog in his mind. It's not your battle, Harry. Let it go.

"What is your problem!?" Lavender's voice snapped. She was only a few inches in front of Harry, and her expression was very cross. "Are you going to stand here all alone all night?"

"I was just talking to--" He turned to point to Patrick, but the boy was gone. Harry looked about the room and then to the staircase, but the second year was nowhere to be found.

"If you think they haven't noticed," hissed Lavender, "you're wrong." She grabbed him by the arm. "Now get out there and pretend you're happy for them. Merlin knows you'll be the godfather to all their children; now start acting like it." Lavender pulled Harry onto the dance floor. "I never thought you'd ask!"

She danced with Harry, moving haltingly toward the just engaged couple, and then deliberately twirled her partner into Ron just as the song was ending.

"Hey, Harry," said Ron, smiling. "Whew, I could use a break; how 'bout you Hermione?"

"Some punch would be nice," she answered with a twinkle in her eye. She took Ron by the arm and they started to walk toward the snacks. Harry just stood there, his feet frozen. Finally, Lavender took him by the arm.

"Why, I'd love some punch too, Harry. Thank you for asking." She deliberately stepped down on his foot, hard, and then whispered in Harry's ear, "So help me, Harry Potter, if you ruin this evening for them I'll curse you from here to Durmstrang." A flash later, her face was all smiles as she squeezed Harry tight just behind the elbow and walked over to where Ron and Hermione were standing.

Someone else patted Ron's shoulder, and there was another hug for Hermione. Harry swallowed hard, moving closer between the well-wishers.

"I... I'm happy for you; for you both," Harry started as Lavender began to pour herself a cup of punch. Still smiling at Ron and Hermione, he took the cup out of Lavender's hand without asking and gulped it down in one swig. "It's fantastic." He took the ladle from Lavender's hand and poured himself another cup. "I mean... Wow! What a surprise." He gulped again.

"I was going to tell you," said Ron with a sincere tone of regret, "but I didn't pluck up the courage until you were at Grimmauld Place." Harry just looked at Ron like the answer made absolutely no sense. "You said you didn't want to be disturbed... remember?"

"Yes, I remember," replied Harry, turning his back completely on Lavender to face Ron. The heat was definitely rising under his collar. "But surely... on the train--"

"Blimey! You're joking, right?" Ron interrupted, drawing in Harry's irritation and reflecting it back. It was a dance the two had played many times before and Hermione took notice.

"Now, Ron, I think what Harry's trying--"

"And last night? Were you too busy last night?" Harry snapped, and then he remembered not seeing Ron last night. "Where were you anyway?" Hermione began to blush violently.

"It's none of your bloody business where I was last night," said Ron, his voice elevated. "You're not my keeper, Harry." At this he pointed his finger and jabbed Harry in the chest, pushing him backward. Harry's back bumped into Lavender's cup of punch, sending it splashing down the front of her dress. The two young men took no notice. Harry balled his right hand into a fist and pulled back, ready to let go.

"I should..." he began. Ron stepped closer, clenching his own fists and drawing them near his chin.

"You should what?" he challenged.

They stood there, toe to toe, for more than a few heartbeats; not too long, considering their hearts were pounding so quickly. Finally, a small smile shattered Harry's scowl and he let go. He threw his right fist past Ron's left ear. Ron saw the smile and returned the wayward punch with an undercut from his own right hand that flew past Harry's midsection and up under his left arm. The two clenched in a macho sort of way.

"You know I love you," Harry whispered in Ron's ear. "I love you both."

"I know," Ron answered quietly with a warm smile.

"I... I don't want to lose you. Not again." Harry pulled back so that his vision took in both Ron and Hermione. "Not now." Hermione stepped close. She remembered uttering the same words to Harry last year at the Ministry and she remembered what Harry had said.

"You're not going to lose us, Harry," she said, tenderly taking him by the arm. Harry grabbed her and pulled her into the hug. He'd had a little too much to drink and his words were taking on a tinge of regret.

"I want to see a dozen little bushy haired, freckle faced Weasley's running about. Do you hear me!?"

"Harry!"

"I want them to be as smart as Hermione and as loyal as... as..."

"As me!" Ron helped Harry finish. "And don't forget they'll be brilliant Quidditch players just like me too! Let's hope they don't take after their mother when it comes to flying, eh Harry?"

"Ron!"

Harry's eyes were beginning to fog with dampness. If they continued to fight by his side, he might lose them. Patrick was right; it wasn't worth it. Their children deserved to have both their parents. Harry squeezed both Ron and Hermione tightly toward him.

"It's brilliant. I... I just can't be here right now." He turned without saying another word, without looking at another face, and left the common room.

The halls were quiet; it was nearly curfew. A few students were wandering here and there, talking or making their way back to their dorms. Harry walked aimlessly down the stone steps and found himself near where Tonks had her old office last year. They had yet to learn who would be teaching Defence Against the Dark Arts. That class had been cancelled this morning. The lanterns dimmed a bit, signalling that it was time to return to the dorms, but Harry didn't hold much by that signal. He'd rarely obeyed it in all his years at Hogwarts, and he wasn't about to--

"Hey, Potter."

It was Blaise Zabini rounding the dark corner of the corridor and saying Harry's name without a drip of sarcasm. It was odd, Harry thought, to see Blaise so far off the beaten track, especially at this time of night. Cloak and dagger stuff wasn't part of Blaise's makeup. The handsome wizard was more comfortable standing in the centre of a group of others to be looked at and admired by others. He hung out with Draco on occasion, but never when it meant danger was about. That sort of stuff was for Nott, or Crabbe or G--... Greg. A shiver passed down Harry's spine as he recalled how his friend had died the year before.

"Blaise," Harry answered with a nod.

The two were passing by each other, shoulder to shoulder, when the tip of Blaise's wand touched Harry's hand. Harry felt a piece of parchment suddenly appear on his palm and his fingers curled around it. He stopped to look back at Blaise, but the Slytherin never stopped walking and never turned back to look at Harry. Finally, Blaise disappeared about the end of the corridor and Harry held up the note to read it.

Do you miss me? Sorry about the ugliness on the train. Sent someone to warn you at the station, but an Auror intervened. I heard Weasles bought a pretty expensive ring in Diagon Alley. You two aren't engaged now are you?

Since I can't be there, my messenger is going to help be my eyes and ears at Hogwarts. Don't tell a soul or it may mean his life. Have you spoken to the old dodder about it yet? Hurry or it may be too late.

He had just finished when the lanterns went dark, signalling curfew. Instead of returning to the party at Gryffindor, Harry sat down on the stone floor and leaned back against the stone wall.

"Lumos!" he whispered. He held up the note and read it again. Was it really from Draco? And what was he supposed to speak with Dumbledore about? What was it he had sensed during the Joining? Hol... Hor... Horcrux? It seemed so distant now. Perhaps it was some sort of secret weapon that the Dementors would use against the Centaurs. Perhaps it was--

"Out all alone, boy? Do you think that wise?"

Harry spun around at the words, jumping to his feet and preparing his defence. A dark figure emerged, dimly lit by the faint glow of Harry's wand.

"Dakhil!" Harry hissed. What was the leader of the Votary doing here?

"Impressive." The word dripped with sarcasm. "I would have thought you would forget my name again the moment you returned to England." He drew nearer and Harry lifted his wand higher. "Put your wand away, boy," rebuked Dakhil sternly, "or I'll... let's see... What do they call it? I'll take points away from your house. Although why you would care about such meaningless games when the war is upon you is incomprehensible to me." Harry lowered his wand and the light was extinguished. They were in utter darkness.

"You can't take--"

"Oh, I believe any professor can--"

"You're not a professor! You can't... Oh, no." He leaned back against the wall and, in the darkness, noticed the thin hint of light emanating from a cracked door, the door to Tonks' office. Harry sighed. "Defence Against the Dark Arts, is it?" Harry could tell by the low grunt that a grimace had appeared on Dakhil's face. Clearly, he didn't like the idea any more than Harry.

"I'm afraid so," he answered. "And instead of taking points away, perhaps it is time for your first lesson." He spun his cloak and disappeared into the darkness. "Follow me, boy!"

Harry shoved Draco's note into his pocket, clenched his jaws, and followed. Once, after banging his knee, he tried to light his wand but was scolded by Dakhil, who insisted on total darkness. "Can you not see?" Dakhil sneered.

"I'm no vampire," retorted Harry. Dakhil stopped.

"There is an energy that binds all living things together, Harry. You draw from it every time you cast a spell. It pulsates on the wind as the breath of the trees; it bubbles from the soil crawling with worms and roaches. In the very darkest of places, it shines as a beacon to all who would call on its name. It is a skill all members of the Votary learn before the Joining, save for you." Dakhil stopped. The odour was strong here, damp and dank and musty, with a strong sense of decay. "Even in death, life is reborn. Reach out to it."

"I can't see a bloody--"

"Not with your eyes, fool!" Harry heard Dakhil sit as an old wooden bench creaked under his weight. "What Soseh sees in you..."

"She uses more than her eyes, I suppose."

Harry had seen the life force emanating from the people he had tried to heal. It was like going to another plane of existence. He just needed to... "Focus," he whispered to himself. In the darkness, Harry closed his eyes and opened his mind, reaching out for anything, however small, that might indicate life. At first there was nothing, and then a bright glow began to appear, red and throbbing. "Dakhil," Harry thought. And then he saw it, the corridor they were in. Something was glowing on the walls. Mould? Spores? It was as if the structures surrounding them were splattered with an eerie fluorescent paint and lit up by a black light. "I see," he whispered in amazement.

"As long as one sees, one is never lost." Dakhil pulled his wand and a tremendous burst of light shattered against the wall, breaking through to open air. The two emerged from some broken down shack into the depths of the forest.

"The trees!" Harry said, looking at the white glowing pillars that climbed to the sky.

"Your enemies, even though they hide behind such grand structures, are brighter still. It is a crucial skill." With one hand, Dakhil pulled Harry out of the splinters of wood and stood him on his feet in the forest. "Now look up."

Harry looked to the sky. It was sprayed with stars of every colour imaginable. But in the centre was a blue glow brighter than all the others, a golden trail following it in the sky.

"Ebyrth," Harry whispered.

"Correct, Mr. Potter," said Dakhil, slapping Harry on the shoulder. He started walking past the trees back to the castle which glowed bright through the branches. "As I said earlier, your time to die is near at hand. You may not realize it yet, Mr. Potter, but, aside from both being in the Votary, you and I have one thing, at least, in common."

"And what's that?" Harry said with more of a sneer than anything else.

"We are both already dead."