Harry Potter and the Birth of a New Sun

Harry Potter and the Birth of a New Sun

Chapter 11 - Notty Boy

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Bass pounding... strings reverberating... the band was loud and Harry was beginning to feel that, maybe, he'd had a bit too much to drink. He slumped back, sinking into the large, overstuffed chair and rubbed his temples. Why had he let Ron and Dean challenge him into a drinking duel upstairs? The Quidditch match against Hufflepuff was tomorrow and he had sworn to himself he wouldn't take a sip. But then Ron convinced him that they were favoured to win over their sister house by two-hundred points and why not celebrate... a little? It was Halloween after all; their last at Hogwarts.

Feeling a bit drunk, he then had let Neville convince him to eat far too much during the feast. Why not? It was, after all, their last Halloween together. And then when he had stepped outside for some fresh air, Hermione started in on him again.

"I saw it. You saw it. By the way she's acting, all three of us saw it, Harry." Her voice was more sympathetic than chiding as she set her hand upon his shoulder. She had tried this approach once already; it hadn't worked then either. Harry didn't know why she wouldn't just let it go. Okay, that was a lie - he did know. That was just what Hermione did. She wanted to solve a problem that she didn't understand and not knowing the answer was driving her mad. Nonetheless, after her protestations, Harry had simply rolled his eyes and shrugged his shoulders.

"If she doesn't want to talk about it, then--"

"You need to tell her what you saw," Hermione had said, stepping in more closely to Harry, but his mind had grown foggier than ever. Instead of being refreshed by the night air, he was just cold and drunk. He had shaken his head, disagreeing with Hermione, unceremoniously pushing her gentle hand away, and had wandered, stumbling a bit, back into the dance, where he had found the nice cushy chair he now was melting into. Frustrated, Hermione had left his side before he entered the Great Hall, and he was thankful for that. Rubbing his temples, Harry considered the new song. Yes, the band was very loud, but everyone was having a great time.

The Great Hall was dark save for the spots that bathed the band in an eerie orange and purple light. Now and then a row of candles burning at the front of the stage would flash bright, sparkling into the air. It was the only time you could make much of anything out, except when a professor's wand grew bright, lighting up two snogging students typically in a darkened corner covered by the fog that floated some three feet off the floor.

Harry was surprised to see Patrick dancing with a third year girl from Slytherin, if you could call his gyrations dancing. The lad was flailing his arms and pounding his feet; Harry expected to see him smiling, but Patrick didn't seem too pleased with it. Ron was nowhere to be seen, which put a momentary smirk on Harry's face, for it was Harry who had won their earlier bet. He smiled even more broadly, thinking that Ron would have to go three nights straight without wearing any socks. There was another bright flash and he caught sight of Gabriella passing by James Chang as she entered the Great Hall. His vision blurry, Harry thought she had been carrying something, but couldn't make out what it was before the room went dark again. His stomach churned; he did not feel well at all. A moment later, she was at his side with a stone mug in her hand, steam boiling out the top and rolling down over her hand.

"You owe me for this!" she called out over the raging music. "Ginny told me what you did upstairs. You can't do that, Harry. It's too dangerous for you to be this vulnerable." She handed the mug to Harry, who was nodding his head even though he couldn't make out a single word she was saying, and squished in next to him on the oversized cushion. Harry took a tentative sip. Feeling her warmth next to him, Harry was sure she had been praising him for drinking Ron and Dean under the table. There was another flash of sparks and he noticed a few of the younger students, including James and Patrick were leaving. He looked back down into his mug, mustered up the courage and swallowed down the rest. The effect was nearly immediate. The nausea passed and his vision began to clear. He was feeling better, but he was growing tired. When he set the mug down, Gabriella took him by the hands.

"You did a wonderful job helping Professor Flitwick with the decorations. The snake that kept swallowing first years was quite creative."

"A Slytherin inspired me," replied Harry, smiling back at her now that the ringing was leaving his ears. He glanced over at the snake that was over in the corner of the Great Hall. The few first year students that remained were still lining up to be swallowed by the large, greyish creature with fierce yellow eyes. Once swallowed, students were transported to the front of the stage where the band was playing. It was the only way the younger students could make their way to the front of the horde that crushed up against the stage. If they were lucky, they got to sing with the band. If they weren't, the older students would toss them to the back of the crowd. This late, it had become more of a game than anything else with first years finding some sort of treat or concoction from Fred and George's shop in their pockets by the time they were flung out of the crowd.

"I can't believe you're the only one who offered to help," said Gabriella.

"Flitwick usually does it all himself. Er... last year... I made a promise, I guess."

Harry was suddenly nervous, remembering where he was and what he had done last year at Halloween. At first he tried to look away, but he could feel Gabriella's black eyes penetrating his feelings, so he turned to her and tried to change the subject to something he knew she wouldn't want to talk about, especially not here.

"You know... Hermione thinks you should tell us what we saw."

At best it was difficult to hear, and with the long pause and total lack of reaction on Gabriella's part, Harry wondered if she'd even heard him. He tried to repeat himself.

"I said, Hermione thinks--"

"I know what Hermione thinks," Gabriella snapped. "AND I know what YOU think." She let go of Harry's hands and crossed her arms and legs. Her eyes were not angry, they were sad, almost frightened.

"I didn't mean to--"

"You just don't understand, Harry." Her jaw was set as they watched another first year go flying off the stage and be thrown to the back of the Great Hall, disappearing into the swirling fog that hung low on the floor. Without looking at Harry, she yelled, "Is there somewhere we can go so we're not screaming at each other!?"

Harry was taken aback. He didn't expect that she'd want to talk about it at all. His eyes darted toward the antechamber off the Great Hall. No one could get in there save professors; yet Professor Dumbledore had taken Harry there the year before and he remembered how to get in. Still he hesitated, but then his heart began to race a bit, thinking of the possibilities. It was dark; if they stayed close to the wall no one would see them slip behind the stage.

"Well?" Gabriella called out.

Harry took her hand and nodded for her to follow. It wasn't easy making it to the wall, but the crowd was focused on a particularly screeching song by the lead singer with bass notes that pounded the floor and tossed folks off their feet. Undetected, Gabriella and Harry slipped into the side room and the music instantly fell away. The antechamber was dimly lit by the warm glow of the fireplace and a handful of lit candles. Beyond that, there wasn't another stick of furniture in the place. Harry paused, thinking about the right spell, but before he put it together, Gabriella had conjured up a nice loveseat near the fireplace.

For the briefest of moments he thought to ask Gabriella about what he had seen in her mind, but being in this particular room on this particular night caused memories of Cho to rush over him. His emotions were mixed between excitement and concern. He hadn't heard from Cho since school let out and when Gabriella offered to visit Cho at her home, Mrs. Chang said that she had gone to the States and wouldn't be back for the rest of summer. The only student who had any contact with her at all was Anthony Goldstein, who seemed to be her boyfriend now. He seemed to gloat that he knew something that Harry didn't and he wouldn't say a word about what Cho was up to; only that she was healthy and happy and that they'd be seeing a lot more of each other after he graduated.

"Has she answered your letter?" Harry whispered without thinking.

"Who?" asked Gabriella, a bit confused.

"Cho. Only Anthony seems to know anything, but he seems to be playing Prince Valiant by keeping mum. Have you heard anything?"

"You know I haven't," answered Gabriella. "Why do you--"

"I hope she hasn't relapsed," said Harry with concern.

To Gabriella, Harry's sudden concern for Cho was odd, out of place. Why here? Why now? Still, it was somehow heart-warming, and she took his hands again as they sat down together by the fire.

"If something was wrong, we would have heard," she said comfortingly. "If anything, Anthony's filled with pride and happiness. I can sense it. He feels as if he's doing something tremendously important. Is it so bad if he won't share? Why?" She smiled devilishly. "Are you jealous?" Gabriella pinched Harry's side and made him yelp.

Harry put on his best Bogart impersonation. "These eyes are only green for you, sweetheart."

He leaned over and kissed Gabriella hard against the lips. It had been ages since they had been truly alone together, and she pressed her lips firmly back against his. Her arms wrapped around his back and she pulled him tight to her breast. His hands slipped to the warm, soft flesh of her belly. Thoughts of Centaur visions slipped past both their minds in favour of other, more enjoyable, activities.

Later, as Harry was tying up the lace of his trainer, he realized how artfully Gabriella had managed to keep him from asking her about the vision they'd seen. She kissed him one last time as he reached for the knob on the door that led back out to the Great Hall. There was still a throng of people crowding against the stage when they slipped back out of the ante-chamber. They chose not to dance and instead made their way out to the front of the castle. It was well past midnight, but there were still a few couples huddled together, watching the night sky. It was the most spectacular Halloween Harry could remember. The stars were brilliant, but then he saw it. His gaze froze and his smile fell.

"What? What's the matter, Harry?" Gabriella placed her hand against the side of Harry's face and then looked to the heavens above her shoulder. "What's wrong? What do you see?"

"Ebyrth," said Harry flatly. Gabriella leaned her head against his shoulder and patted his back, saying nothing. Harry sighed deeply. "I... I just don't get it."

"What?"

"I don't see how it can grow much brighter. I see it during the day now."

"It may be bright for you," she answered quietly, "but most the rest of us can't yet see it at all."

"Where's the war? I don't know why things haven't started already," said Harry, but then a deep, scratchy voice broke the night's stillness.

"What makes you think they haven't?"

Both Gabriella and Harry jumped. It was Professor Barghouti. The moment the other couples saw him they began to scramble up the fronts steps of the castle, constantly casting backward glances to make sure he wasn't following them, and occasionally reaching for their necks as if to reassure themselves that they hadn't been bitten. Harry forced himself to regain his composure, but Gabriella had beaten him to it.

"Dakhil, where have you been?" she asked. "I've been looking for you all day!"

"I had a visit with a werewolf," he answered. "Only fitting, don't you think?" He laughed at his own joke and while Gabriella laughed as well, Harry was having none of it.

"Just got back then, did you? Wings a bit tired? Slurp up a few tourists along the way?"

"Harry!" Gabriella snapped.

"Yes, boy," said Barghouti unimpressed, "as a matter of fact...," he ran his tongue across his teeth, and this time a row of jagged, razor-sharp teeth appeared, "...I did."

"Dakhil!" chided Gabriella. Barghouti merely chuckled again and the teeth became straight and pearly white.

"You may not see it, boy," said Barghouti, tapping Harry across the face with his large hand, "but your war has begun. Does that make you feel better?" Harry's eyes were incredulous.

"What do you mean?" he asked. "There hasn't been an incident since the train."

"The Centaurs of the Great Forest are not the only Centaurs in the world, boy. And, as much as you might like to believe that England is the centre of the world, it is but a very small part of it." He looked at Gabriella. "It is as I had feared. The war has begun at home."

"I thought you said you didn't care about the war," queried Harry. "Why the long face now?"

"Because, oh chosen one," Barghouti sneered, "your friend Lucius Malfoy has enlisted the help of vampires and hence his choice of first strike - the Carpathians. Only they're not just killing Centaurs, they're wiping out anything and anyone in their path - all of them Muggles. A whole village was destroyed. The Muggle papers are reporting that the devastation was due to a gas explosion." A burst of air popped between his lips. "I must return to Singehorn for a few days. I fear my old friend may move to intervene and repeat old mistakes. Professor Dumbledore has been informed and Professor Lupin will take care of my classes."

"Wait! I'm going with you," said Harry emphatically. Barghouti snickered and turned. "I said--"

"You wish to save the world, boy?" Barghouti snapped, spinning back upon Harry. He was clearly angry, as if Harry had started the whole thing; as if Harry had placed the comet in the heavens himself. "Why don't you try saving this school first? Why don't you try saving THEM?" His hand shot out toward the trees that surrounded the school; all was darkness. Harry squinted, which only made Barghouti all the more exasperated.

"Have you learned NOTHING?" he cried. There was a small squeal from one of the remaining students near the castle doors who quickly ran inside, slamming the door behind her. "Can you not SEE?"

Harry looked again into the darkness, squinting. Then he remembered. He took a deep breath and closed his eyes. Then, he reached out with his mind toward the forest. As Dakhil had shown him before, all living things began to appear before him - the grass, bushes, and trees all glowed brightly. He scanned further out and then saw it: a Centaur some ten yards into the trees, bow in hand. Motion to the right caught his vision again - another Centaur, another bow. Harry continued to scan. Every thirty to fifty yards another Centaur stood guard, watching over the school in the darkness. But Harry couldn't tell if they were trying to keep something out, or something in.

"What are they doing?" he whispered.

"I am weary of teaching the ignorant," Barghouti muttered. "The Centaurs can smell the darkness, fool. It is already upon you. You would be wise to find its source before it swallows you whole." In a swirl he disappeared before Harry had a chance to say another word. The sound of flapping wings, faded to nothingness. What he noticed, after the dust settled, was that Gabriella's fingers were digging into the soft flesh of his forearm.

"What--?" He looked over at her and saw pure fear on her face. She was mesmerized, staring intently at the darkness of the forest. Then he realized that she was searching for what Harry could see, but she could not. She was afraid of the Centaurs. She took a step behind Harry, almost as if using him as a shield against the darkness, and then pulled him toward that castle doors.

"Let's go inside," she breathed.

"They're protecting us, Gab," said Harry, trying to calm her nerves. "They won't hurt you. They would never hurt you." Her eyes never left the forest and, if anything, the fear that filled the black pools of her eyes slipped toward anger.

"Now."

Harry sighed and nodded his head. "Alright," he acquiesced, and followed her up the stairs, noting that she was ever sure to keep his body between her and the darkness of the forest. When the door finally closed behind them, he could see the weight lift from her shoulders and the relief spread across her face. She leaned back against the doors, placing her hands over her face. Harry stepped closer, touching her shoulder softly.

"Baby, what is it?" he asked. "What's wrong?" The hands upon her face began to tremble and tears began to streak down her cheeks, one by one, but she would not cry, not out loud. Slowly, her eyes turned to the side to look at Harry. He'd seen that look when Gabriella lost her father, Grigor. It was a look of uncertainty, of fear, of death. Without saying a word, she shook her head and turned to walk away. She'd gone only a few paces before Harry called her to stop, but she wouldn't listen. She went past the stone column and began to head down to the dungeons, to the entrance of Slytherin. Her foot did not reach the first step before Harry grabbed her by the arm and spun her around.

"Tell me what's--" He never finished. She didn't use her wand; she didn't need to. Her free hand came up under Harry's neck and he was out cold on the floor.

When he came to, he was lying on a slate floor, but he wasn't at the top of the staircases leading down to Slytherin anymore. He was bound with ropes, unable to move, in a room well lit by torches. The walls were stone, and along their top was a crown-moulding made of oak. Along its face a snake's head was engraved every few feet.

"Slytherin," Harry hissed.

"Well done, Potty." The voice came from behind him and Harry had to roll over to confirm who he knew to be there.

"Hello, Teddy," Harry said, knowing Nott hated the name. Harry was not surprised to find Crabbe at Nott's side. "Taken to kidnapping now? A step up from watching murder I suppose."

"Just gathering road-kill, Potty," Nott retorted. "A little bird told me you'd been drinking... a bit too much. Imagine my surprise when I found you passed out on the stairs to Slytherin." Nott stepped closer. "Were you trying to find your true love?" Harry said nothing. "I can find you a mirror if you'd like."

"I see you found yours," Harry smirked, tossing his head in Crabbe's direction. Crabbe took more offence than Nott and kicked Harry in the side. The blow was hard and a burst of air shot from Harry's mouth.

"Why don't you untie me Crabbe, and then we'll see how brave you are?" Harry's eyes were on fire. Fearful, Crabbe stepped backward.

"I... I wonder how w-well Gryffindor will do without their Seeker tomorrow," Crabbe shot back shakily.

"So that's it, is it?" asked Harry.

"I wonder," added Nott, "what the Wizarding world will do without its hero. How ever will we get on... once you're dead?" Harry's eyes narrowed on Nott. Crabbe's eyes darted nervously toward Nott.

"Dead?" he muttered under his breath. Evidently, he was not in on Nott's full plans.

"That's a bit bold for you, Teddy, isn't it?"

"Did you know?" asked Nott, ignoring Harry's question and Crabbe's fear. "Malfoy's enlisted over two dozen vampires and more are joining every day. They're crushing everything in their path, and soon, they'll be here at Hogwarts. Soon, they'll be coming for you, and they don't die, Potter."

"Oh, they die, Teddy. I've seen them die. Didn't you know? I was attacked by them this summer. Turns out that a well placed Centaur arrow... thwup... and they die." Harry chuckled deliberately. "Funny thing, vampires. When they're pierced, their vampire shell sheds away and for a minute they're who they once were, the madness gone." Harry looked up at the green ceiling. "I like to think that in that moment, goodness has a chance to rush in and fill their souls once more. They have a chance to be saved."

"Rubbish," shot Nott, believing more than disbelieving.

"Yes," said Harry, still looking upward. "Vampires, at least, have a second chance." He turned to face Nott. "You on the other hand... I suppose you'll rot for all eternity." Crabbe's face was white, but Nott's was flushed with anger and frustration. It was his turn to kick Harry hard in the gut. It was all Harry could do not to vomit.

"Don't worry, Potterkins. You won't die tonight. But you will lose to Hufflepuff in tomorrow's--"

"Bloody hell! I knew it!"

A flash of red hair told Harry at once who had just entered the room. Ron was breathing hard, his wand drawn, but his hand was shaking noticeably, not because he was scared or winded, but because he'd had too much to drink. Harry could make out a flash of green robes behind him; he assumed it was Gabriella which, with Ron in his present condition, he was thankful for. Both Nott and Crabbe drew their wands and turned toward Ron, who was still standing at the door.

"How'd you find this place, Weasley?" spat Nott.

"A little bird told him," said the voice behind Ron. It wasn't Gabriella, it was James Chang; Harry's apprehension began to grow once more. There wasn't much of a chance if Ron couldn't pull it together... and quickly. The second year who had freely chosen to be in Slytherin this semester stepped in front of Ron with his wand drawn.

"Chang?" Nott asked, almost laughing. "You little--"

"Obliviate!" chanted James, casting a spell well beyond his years. A burst of orange light erupted from his wand throwing both Nott and Crabbe against the wall, knocking them unconscious, and wiping their minds of recent memories. The strength of the Obliviate spell determined how much memory was removed. Normally, a second year wouldn't even be able to cast the spell, but Harry was sure that the effect would be lasting.

Ron released Harry from his ties while James bound his two house brothers. "They'll be the ones missing the match tomorrow," he whispered with a smile pursing his lips.

Rising to his feet, Harry felt a little light-headed, the nausea once again returning, and had to lean on Ron for support. He looked over at James, wanting to thank him for his help, but more curious about the spell.

"James," he asked, "how did you--" He was struck from behind.

"Harry!"

It was Gabriella, followed closely be Patrick. She wrapped him in her arms.

"I'm sorry. I'm sorry. I'm sooo sorry." She kissed his neck and cheek, and then looked into his eyes. "Can you forgive me?" Harry looked over at the two Slytherins on the floor and back at James.

"Let's go," he said, a cool sweat beading on his forehead; the potion Gabriella had given him earlier was obviously beginning to wear off. "This place gives me the creeps."

They made their way up a narrow row of stone steps that opened out on the Slytherin common room. Harry hadn't been here since he was a first year. James and Patrick nonchalantly split away from the group to talk to some other second years that had just returned from the evening's party while Gabriella walked Harry and Ron out. The three began their trek up to the Gryffindor tower. By the time they made it to the tower, Harry was feeling much better and it was Ron that was leaning on Harry and Gabriella.

"I hope James blasted Nott's memory to the Stone Age," said Ron.

"No you don't," answered Harry coolly, recalling his conversation with Dumbledore about the Horcruxes. "Two years ago I think he might have taken this chance to kill me, just to prove himself to his father and the other Death Eaters. Tonight, he was just a bag full of hot air. He's learned something since then, since his father died." Harry paused. "Compassion, I think."

"Oh, puh-lease!" cried Ron. "Nott? Compasshhhionate? James said he was goin' to turn you over to them... to the Death Eaters. He might not have delivered the blow, Harry, but he still would have been dancin' on your grave."

"James told you that?" asked Gabriella. "Patrick told me that they were going to throw him in the lake."

"If they had tried, they wouldn't have gotten very far," said Harry calmly.

"What makes you say that?" asked Ron, just as they reached the portrait of the Fat Lady.

"Centaurs," answered Harry, he looked at Gabriella. "At night, they've got the castle surrounded."

"Cool," said Ron with a smile, rocking a bit on his own two legs. Harry didn't think it would take much to knock him over. "I'd like to see Nott with an arrow up his arse." Gabriella tried to muster a smile, but couldn't.

"Ron," she said, "you go on in. I need to speak with Harry alone for a moment." Ron grinned.

"Sure," he said. "I get it." He turned toward the painting. "Err... Erm...." He turned back to Harry. "P-Password, mate?"

"Toffee drops," said Harry and the painting swung open and Ron stumbled through. Before it shut, he looked back at the two, pointing his finger in no particular direction and shook it. "But not too long, P-Potter. It'sss game night!"

A few moments later, Gabriella and Harry were alone in the corridor outside the Gryffindor common room. Gabriella walked him over to a stone bench and the two sat down. Even though the walls and floor were now spotless, he never liked sitting here, remembering the Dementors that had nearly killed Professor McGonagall the year before. There was a sense of death in the air and for a second Harry felt a cool rush swim up his spine, whispering death's name. Gabriella held his hand, but would not meet his gaze. Instead, she watched their fingers intertwined and mingling.

"Mama has the sight," she began. "You know that, Harry. Me... I can only sense the emotions of others. I can't see the doors and windows that open on to the other planes."

"But--"

"Shhhh." She put one hand gently across his lips. "Since I was young, before I ever went to Al Bsahri, I have had one sight. Sometimes years would pass before it would return, the same scene, over and over. Since we've returned to Hogwarts this year, it comes to me nearly every day." She leaned her head against Harry's shoulder. "Yesterday, I asked Mama what happened when you and Hermione plunged into the scene that has been playing in my mind without you for so many years." There was a long pause, and Harry could hear laughter coming from way down the staircases below; it died away.

"And?" he asked, nudging Gabriella along.

"A vision from another plane is like a finely cut jewel, a diamond with many facets. One can look in and see different images from all angles. You and Hermione became part of my vision and somehow shared it from your own perspectives. We all saw the same thing, but all differently. And what we each saw can mean different things."

"Then why don't you want to--"

"No vision is perfect, Harry; and, like time-turners, there are also rules about looking into the future. Most would make changes based on the imperfect knowledge they see, often changes that lead to more devastating outcomes. Only the best, those like Mama, have any hope of moving the sands of time to shape the outcome of the other planes. Others go mad trying to change what n-never was to c-come." She began to tremble as she delivered the last words and in the silence that followed Harry felt a tear drop onto his forearm. He put his arm around her and held her tight.

"Gabriella," he asked, "what is it? You need to lift this weight from your soul. I swear I won't do anything to change the future." Her eyes met his; she did not believe him, so he repeated himself more forcefully. "I swear on my parents that I won't do anything to change the future. Please, tell me what you saw." Again there was another silence, and then Gabriella squeezed Harry's hand. Finally, not looking into Harry's eyes, she began to whisper.

"It begins with a flash of light, a fire erupting from a glistening emerald lake. We are surrounded by them. There is a scream and then silence. And then there is me... face down in the tall grass. I... I am dead, Harry. Buried deep in my back is the long wooden arrow of a Centaur."