Harry Potter and the Birth of a New Sun

Harry Potter and the Birth of a New Sun

Chapter 28 - The Best Laid Plans...

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"What is that?"

"What is what?"

"That?"

"What?"

"THAT?"

"Nothing."

"Bloody, hell! What is it?"

"Just a ring."

"Let me see. Come on! No. Take it out of your pocket. Come on.... That... is it... it's a tattoo or something?"

"Or something."

"It's catching the light like it was silver or copper, but it's on your skin. What is it?"

"I said... just a ring. You know... like a promise or something."

"Promise? Valentine's isn't until... You didn't ask her, did you? Did you?"

From across the dining table, Harry felt Ron begin to penetrate his mind - something he still did on occasion when he really, really wanted to know a secret and Harry really, really wasn't going to tell him. Harry's defences shot up and pushed him away, but Harry didn't complain. He'd gotten use to the sensation, and Ron got so used to being pushed back he stopped saying sorry. Harry didn't give it more thought than swatting away a fly, but that didn't make Ron buzz any less.

"It's not an engagement ring, if that's what you're asking. It's just... well... it has to do with the Votary and a bunch of stuff you don't what to hear about. I love her, you know? And she love's me. And, the other night, I went to sleep thinking that there would never be anyone else, and, somehow when I woke up, this was on my hand. Don't roll your eyes like that! It... it's no big deal. Just don't make a scene about it in front of--"

"There you two are!" Hermione called stiffly as she approached the Gryffindor table for dinner. As she came closer, Harry noticed the look she was giving Ron; it wasn't pleasant. He looked up at her pleadingly.

"I was hungry! And... and there's practice tonight!"

"Ten minutes! You couldn't wait ten minutes?"

"You've said ten minutes before and it's never just ten minutes."

"What do you mean, never?" she scolded. "If I had a Knut for every time you said just ten minutes when you're talking to somebody about Quidditch!"

"That's different!"

"DIFFERENT?"

A plate of food appeared before Hermione as she poured herself some spiced tea, slamming down the pitcher. Harry was thankful she and Ron were arguing again; it made things feel... normal, if only for a little bit. She was about to turn her wrath on Harry, who wasn't really feeling that well to begin with, for coming down to dinner with Ron ten minutes early, when Dennis and Colin Creevey sat down for dinner laughing hysterically.

"I think his ears started to sprout tulips... At least... I think they were tulips. They looked like tulips, didn't they? Hah!"

"I don't know, but the lot of them are with Madame Pomfrey right now."

"They need Professor Sprout!"

"And when Luna thought they were seriously trying to grow roots and--"

"--and she added fertilizer! I thought I was going to--"

"What did she call it?" Dean asked down the table. Luna, who happened to be just across from him at the Ravenclaw table, turned to face him.

"They were horklump droppings," she said with a steady voice. "And I don't understand what you see that's so funny about the whole thing. Even Professor Dumbledore knew Nott and his friends were seeking nature for answers. It was probably very hard for the Slytherins to admit that they needed to find another part of themselves. My dad's paper did a story about it - Splinching with Nature. "

"And what part is it you think they found?" asked Dean.

"Well," she answered straightforwardly, "I think it may be more a question of what they lost. I know, when Crabbe finally came out of the soil, he said that he'd never again be able to--"

"Attention!" called Professor McGonagall as she tapped the side of her goblet with her wand. The room went silent at once. "Professor Dumbledore is not well this evening, but he asked that I pass on a few announcements. First, he reminds students that, while he appreciates that the Valentine's holiday will soon be upon us, the Forbidden Forest is just that - strictly forbidden. No student, or pair of students, is to wander off into the trees, even near the forest edge.

"Secondly, Mr. Filch has been finding gum under student desks in the classrooms. There is no excuse for such poor behaviour. Desks have now been enchanted to chew back any student trying to do so again.

"Finally, you should know that a handful of students from the Olympian Academy, in Athens, will be joining us tomorrow. As you will no doubt read in the morning's Daily Prophet, the school was attacked today and many of the students are fleeing. I trust you will welcome them warmly. That is all for now."

The Great Hall exploded in a low rumble of murmurs and whispers as if no one wanted anyone else to hear what they were thinking. The sound harkened back to the darkest of times last year. It was a room filled with accusation and uncertainty.

"Why would they want to come here?" someone said with a hushed voice.

"It's no safer with us so close to the Centaur herd."

"That's why he doesn't want us near the forest."

"The Centaur herd isn't the only thing they're after." Some eyes shot toward Harry.

"It's not the first time they've tried; it won't be the last."

"Well, you know the way to solve the problem, don't you?"

"If they want to attack, let them come!" cried Dennis Creevey. "I'm not going to crouch in fear and try to make deals for what portion of my soul I get to keep."

"Yeah!" yelled someone from Ravenclaw. "We've smashed 'em before. We'll smash 'em again."

"With Barghouti here, it's not like we don't know a thing or two about how the dark side thinks!" Dakhil, who was seated at the head table next to Hagrid, tried not to look pleased, but a smile escaped his usually scowling face.

What Harry thought was going to turn into an indictment against the Centaurs and a vilification of him, turned out to be, thanks to Dennis, something quite different. Lavender stood up, her hair as perfect as a portrait, and her winter dress turning most male heads in the Great Hall.

"If they creep in so much as one dark fingernail onto Hogwarts grounds, trying to attack Firenze, I'll fry them myself!" Her eyes flashed with fire and, for the first time, she actually frightened Harry.

"She will!" yelled Padma. "Barghouti taught her the spell and Harry told her where to aim! And if they think the other witches of Hogwarts are soft, they've got another thing coming! It'll be enough to make a Dementor pee his pants! Erm... if they do that sort of thing." The witches in the hall howled in approval.

"We've learned from the best everything we need to know!" Luna called out. It was the most animated he'd ever seen her. For a moment, her eyes caught Harry's and somehow he felt she knew everything there was to know: why Anthony was absent, why Harry's finger suddenly bore a ring, why Greece was under attack. He subtly nodded his head approvingly in her direction.

Then someone from the back of the Hall, someone Harry couldn't see, yelled, "With what Harry's taught us, we will stand together! If we do, no darkness will dare cross onto castle grounds!"

Cheers rang up everywhere... even at the Slytherin table, with the notable absence of Nott and his gang. Instead the Slytherin cheer was led by Gabriella, who stood in affirmation of the preparation provided by the professors as well as Harry's prowess. But then, the clapping and cheers died almost instantly, like a wave crashing against rocks at the shore, when people realized who had called out the last words. Standing at the entrance doors to the Great Hall was James Chang, fresh out of St. Mungo's.

Here, before the entire class stood the man, the boy, that had killed the Minister's wife. Harry glanced over at Ron, whose knuckles were white as his hand squeezed a roll of bread so hard it oozed butter out onto the table. It was in this Great Hall where James was the first student accepted into all four houses, but, at this moment in time, it was very questionable if any of the four houses would accept him at all. Yet, there he was, looking as healthy as ever, if not a bit pale, maybe even a bit taller than when Harry had last seen him, cheering the school on to victory against the very evil that had nearly driven him mad.

You could have heard a ghost pass through a wall it was so quiet in the Great Hall. Nobody moved; nobody breathed. They just all gawked, unknowingly, at the uncle of Harry's son. The bluster and bravery that had filled the hall just seconds earlier was spilling away. Harry was trying to will himself out of his seat - to stand and say something noble. But the feverish face that screamed at him in the bowels of the prison on Fengsle Isle haunted his vision, and the flash of green that flew from James' wand, killing Molly was too much to bear. He found himself using his second sight, looking at James only to discover that it held but a single aura - Voldemort free. Harry wondered why he hadn't used the skill on others since facing Nott and his gang. He scanned about the Great Hall, but the sheer numbers made it impossible to discern one aura from the next.

There was a scraping noise from up at the head table - Professor McGonagall moving back her chair, struggling herself to think of something to say. Harry opened his eyes and looked back at her with normal vision, but before she had a chance to stand, Patrick O'Riley, isolated and alone at the end of the Gryffindor table, stood from his bench and ran over to James Chang. From where he sat, he had to run the length of the Great Hall, his footsteps echoing off the walls, the only sound, besides his own breathing, to be heard. When they met, Patrick wrapped his arms about James and hugged him. At once, they both began to cry.

Their sobs were heavy, heartfelt, as James kept repeating the word, "Sorry."

Gabriella was the first to leave the Slytherin table. She had grown close to James in her conversations with Cho, and she too gave him a hug. Then Owen Cauldwell from Hufflepuff, who often played wizard's chess with James, started moving toward him. Su Li and Orla Quirke who doted on James last year when he visited Ravenclaw ran up to him as well. Harry looked over at his best friend, seated directly across from him. Ron's eyes were on fire, his buttery hand now fingering his wand. Hermione reached over and touched his wrist. He jerked, then, realizing who it was, slipped the wand away and tried to relax; he couldn't.

"Ron," she whispered softly, cautiously, "if you stood... and took his side right now, the rest of the school would follow." Looking deeply into Hermione's eyes, Ron's own softened, but his jaw remained set.

"I... I can't. My... He... he..."

"No he didn't," Ginny said sharply, but quietly, as she rose to her feet. "If he did, then I released the Basilisk. I nearly killed your fiancée. I nearly killed you all." Ron shook his head in disagreement.

"But that... that wasn't... this... this is different." Ginny held her hand out to her brother.

"Ron, we need to do this... together."

He looked toward the small group surrounding James. The hall was growing more animated, but uncertainty still permeated the air. All it would take is one accusation, one harsh remark, one misguided spell or hex, and the animosity would be reborn. Ron looked at his sister and then at his best friend.

"Don't look at me," Harry said. "Hermione's right - everyone knows how you feel. If Ginny walks up alone, it won't matter. You're the eldest here. You're the seventh year."

"I'm also the best friend of Harry Potter." Ron smiled for the first time.

"That might get you a liquorice whip at Honeydukes, but that's about it, mate."

"Watch," Ron said with an air of confidence worthy of a Gryffindor. He took Ginny's hand and started to the doors of the Great Hall. He was easily the tallest boy in school and as he proceeded down the path between the benches, the seats behind him cleared as student after student followed. By the time he and Ginny made it to James, not a seat was empty. Perhaps the students were supportive, perhaps they wanted to watch the bloodbath, but the whole school was surrounding James and the Weasleys, some standing on tables to get a better view. Even the professors at the head table were all standing, all except Dakhil who seemed more interested in the viscosity of the fluid contained within the goblet in his hand.

Harry stood, but he didn't leave his place at the Gryffindor table. There was something to be said for taking in the scene from a distance, and in his heart he knew what was about to happen. Those feelings were confirmed when a tremendous cheer filled the hall as Ron put his hands around James. When he did so, everyone closed in, welcoming their classmate.

Love, warmth and power filled the room. Harry could feel it swirling about him like an invisible ethereal mist - compassion, energy, strength. Then he realized that it wasn't just filling the room, but being pulled in toward him. The Heart of Asha was drawing the power to it, gorging itself with the strength. He had experienced the same feeling at the Joining with Singehorn. The vivificus stone, the stone of life, was now more alive than ever. Harry felt that, if he could draw from just a portion of the stone's growing power, he could end this war, once and for all. He could destroy them all; he could crush--

A hand gently rested upon his shoulder. It was Hermione Granger.

"You did this," she said with a hint of a smile upon her face as she watched the students at the far end of the hall each try to say something to James, welcoming him in some way. Any tension, any concerns had been washed away. It took Harry a moment to regain his composure. For a moment, he had lost himself in the possibilities of power. Hermione took it as a sign of emotion, looking into his eyes and brushing the hair from his scar-free forehead.

"No," said Harry, drawing a great breath. "Ron did." He turned, put his arm about Hermione, and looked back at the gathering which now included some of the professors. "It's easy to see the strength of unity when you see friends. It's far harder to embrace an enemy. Ron... he's had to fight, to dig deep to find that part of himself that can accept. I didn't show them how to embrace a foe. They wouldn't have seen it through me if I had walked up there and hugged James, any more than when Patrick did. But Ron... Everyone here knows how he feels about James. But he pushed past all that. He showed every student and professor here that it can be done and now... now they believe." He paused for a moment, still sensing the surge of power within him. "Now... they're ready."

"Ready for what, Harry?" she asked. He held her by the hand and looked about, ensuring they were out of earshot.

"Tonight, after midnight, meet me and Ron in the common room."

"Why? What are you--"

"Midnight," repeated Harry, and he strode away, not to greet James, but to pull Gabriella aside and let her know his plan. Then, he skirted the crowd gathered about James and disappeared through the doors to the Great Hall.

It wasn't until near midnight that Harry had almost everything in place. Skipping Quidditch practice, he'd asked Dobby to arrange things with the house elves and to discuss Harry's plans with the few goblins in Hogsmeade that could be trusted. With that done, Harry went and told Professor Dumbledore and then Dakhil of his plans. The complexion and overall appearance of the headmaster was far worse than when he'd met with Harry just a few hours earlier. Dumbledore had answered the door to his office in his bed clothes. He was generally pleased with Harry's decision, but something was bothering him, something that he wouldn't share with Harry. As for Dakhil, Harry had caught up to him in the dungeons and the vampire shook his head with disapproval.

"You're putting all your pieces into the battle, boy - wizards, elves, werewolves, Centaurs and goblins. I doubt the dragons will come to your aid, but let's say they do. Let's say, for one day, you can keep them all from attacking each other. There's nothing left - no other creature to come to your rescue should the battle last long and they begin to turn on each other as things falter. And you WILL falter; don't think for a moment that you won't. I've seen it before... they all falter."

In the Forbidden Forest, Harry had met with Ronan, Magorian, and a number of the other Centaurs preparing for battle, and had told them that he was leaving. Still, he reaffirmed his oath and swore that he would see to their protection in his absence. When Shahan scoffed at his assurance, a pang of rage snapped inside Harry and, for a second, a ball of fire appeared about his left fist, glowing as bright as a small star, forcing them all to turn their heads. Magorian rebuked Shahan and the flame about Harry's hand diminished and disappeared. Before Harry departed, Ronan glanced to the evening sky and had commented to Magorian that Ebyrth had grown brighter and that, as he said, "It will be close." Harry looked up at Ebyrth. Low on the horizon, it was close to Mars. Magorian grunted in approval, but Harry had no idea what they were really talking about.

Now, alone in the boys' dormitory of Gryffindor Tower, Harry sat on the edge of his bed with a small bag of clothes and other items he might need in Greece. His intent wasn't to stay long, but he would be prepared if his intentions failed. Dakhil had been correct to caution that the strategy might not be as quick as Harry hoped, and Harry was thankful that the vampire offered to devise another back-up strategy. Harry took in a deep breath trying to gain some energy, but he felt tired and his stomach was a bit unsteady, probably from not finishing his evening meal.

Ron and Hermione were already waiting downstairs in the common room, still wondering what he was going to do. On his desk was a blank parchment next to a book on healing potions. Harry shook his head. He'd only just caught up, and now he would be leaving for who knew how long. For the first time at Hogwarts, he actually was saddened for missing Snape's class. He stood from his bed and the blood drained to his feet, causing stars to appear in his field of view and the room to tilt just a bit.

Evidently, the fury of the day's activities had drained him. So, he went to the bathroom and threw some water on his face, hoping to revive his tired eyes. It didn't help much; he still felt a bit dizzy and nauseous. As he was leaving, he ran into Patrick who was going to take a shower before getting ready for bed. His face was smiling until he ran into Harry; the appearing scowl was deliberate and enhanced for Harry's viewing pleasure.

"Hey, Patrick," Harry tried to say with as light a tone in his voice as he could.

"Bugger off," Patrick muttered, pulling the curl of his lips down a bit further at the corners and refusing to meet Harry's eyes.

"Hey," said Harry, taking Patrick by the arm, "what's up?" A wand appeared from nowhere and, in a flash, was in Harry's face. The move surprised the older Gryffindor.

"Let go me arm," said Patrick with cold eyes. Harry eased off.

"No need for that, eh? We're friends, right?"

"Right," spat Patrick, still holding his wand at the ready and backing slowly away - a move Harry had taught in the DA meetings earlier in the fall. "That's why yeh haven't said two damn words teh me since I've been back. Since... since..." Patrick's hand began to tremble and his eyes grew moist.

"Harry P-Potter," he said, forcing himself not to cry. "What a joke. What a lie. I thought yeh'd be different. I thought yeh'd understand."

"I do understand."

"Yeah, and that's why yeh left the Great Hall today without even looking at James when he came back. Yeh've hated me. Now, yeh can hate him."

"Pat--"

"Yeh think he didn' notice?" Harry didn't respond. "Well? DO YEH?"

Harry dropped his pack to the floor with a thwump and fell to a squat beside it, in similar fashion. He rubbed his face with his hands. It was late; he was tired, and it was taking all his energy not to be pissed off. Harry took a deep breath, trying hard to regain control of his emotions.

"Do you...," Harry began, his voice steady, if a bit thin, and his eyes on the floor. "Do you know who convinced the Minister to let James free?" Patrick just stood silently, refusing to lower his wand. "He was imprisoned beneath the ocean for Merlin's sake! Surrounded by the worst filth... I was there when he was released." Harry raised his head so that his eyes met Patrick's. "I held him in my arms when he still wasn't sure who he was. It's just... I didn't expect him so soon. I was going to visit, but time... it's more fragile than I thought."

"That doesn't explain why yeh've been an arse teh me, or why yeh left when James came in." Patrick was defiant and surprisingly dignified, though he stood with nought but a pair of slippers, holding a towel in one hand and a wand in the other. Harry rose to his feet, a bit too quickly for Patrick's liking. A stinging spell spat from his wand and headed to Harry's face. With a wave of his hand, Harry quickly deflected the spell, but it still nipped his shoulder, making him wince. Patrick's eyes grew concerned about what Harry might now do to him - concern, but not fear. Harry just sighed.

"I deserved that," he said, rubbing his shoulder. "You're right, I've been an arse. I've been stupid and unfair and I could have set an example, but instead I just avoided you. I'm sorry." The words took away the irritation from Patrick's expression.

"Yeah... well, I really didn' mean teh zap yeh like that." He lowered his wand again. "Sorry. I... I only ever wanted teh help."

"Look, Patrick, I'm leaving to Greece, tonight. Voldemort's found another body to possess and now he's started his own battle, searching for... for James' sister, Cho."

A look of surprise spread across Patrick's face and, for the first time, it appeared as if he might believe what Harry was saying. Still he said, "I... I don't believe you," but the words held little conviction and were imbued, instead, with a sense of excitement. "Why would he care about Cho?"

"Don't believe me!? Why the hell do you think I have this pack?" snapped Harry. The tone in Harry's voice brought Patrick's wand out again. "What? You still ..." Another wave of fatigue passed through Harry. "I don't have time for this. Come on. If you don't believe me, come with me. Come see with your own eyes." Harry turned and headed toward the door. Patrick's wand tracked him as he went, but the boy's feet didn't move from the spot where they stood. Harry turned back to face him.

"Well, are you coming or not? I swore to you we'd stick together so get your arse in gear and--" Patrick looked down at what he was not wearing.

"But I can't. I don't have any--"

"Bah!" Harry chided. He pulled his wand, tapped Patrick on the head, and Patrick found himself wrapped in a set of Gryffindor robes, his slippers now a pair of black boots.

"Straight from your trunk. Now," said Harry, "follow me." He began to walk, then stopped and looked at Patrick. "That is... if you think you can trust me."

Harry didn't again look back at Patrick as they made their way to the common room, but he could hear the young man's footsteps just behind his own. As they came to the top of the circular staircase, Harry grabbed his broom, which was leaning against the wall, held it behind him without looking back and said, "Hold this. We're going to need it in a bit."

Patrick took the broom and said, "Sure," his voice almost eager with anticipation.

In the common room, Hermione sat next to Ron by the fireplace. Ron held a broom in his hand as well.

"You two ready?" Harry asked. They both looked at Harry and then at Patrick. Ron pointed with his finger.

"Why is--"

"Don't ask."

As they made their way down the staircases to the castle's entrance, Hermione continued to express her concern that Patrick was with them.

"He'll lose house points, if he's caught out after hours."

"Like the rest of us aren't? I'm sure the Head Girl," said Ron, "will be able to--"

"What took you guys so long?" said Gabriella in a hushed voice, stepping out from behind a column. "Why is Pat--"

"Don't ask!" the three said in unison. Gabriella shrugged and took Harry's hand.

They made it out the door with only one close call from Mrs. Norris; she had come round a pillar, but had meowed just before, giving herself away and allowing the troupe to hide in the corner as she passed down toward the dungeons.

Once out on the castle steps, Ron and Harry climbed onto their brooms and invited the others for a ride. Hermione hopped onto Ron's and Gabriella hopped onto Harry's. She held her hand out to help Patrick on, but he declined, choosing instead to ride with Ron and Hermione. As soon as all were mounted, Ron and Harry took the brooms upward, climbing the face of the castle to its highest tower. Hermione kept her eyes shut. They stopped against the tower's wall some fifteen feet down from the top. There, Harry found a small red stone, no larger than a galleon, hidden among the large, gray, rough hewn block of the castle walls.

He pulled his wand and whispered. "It's well past midnight, we swear it's true. Open up and let us through." The group shrunk until the stone appeared to be a large, red cavern.

"Hold tight," Harry suggested and they flew into the spot with a tearing, slurping sound and emerged on the other side. "Welcome to The Marauders' Eye!" he said brightly. It was the most energized he'd felt all night. Harry pulled his wand and tapped a black pillar; music began to play. Hermione noticed some magazines on one of the tables piled in a sharp stack - clearly Dobby had seen that the space was kept clean.

"These are recent," she said with surprise. She glared at Ron. "You said it was nothing but a dusty old bin of a room. You've been sneaking up here, haven't you? Haven't you?" She started moving toward Ron, when Harry intervened.

"That's not why we're here," he said, holding them apart. "Geesh, you'd think you were married already." His eyes danced toward Gabriella's for but an instant. "Just... sit down." Everyone obliged. Harry brightened the candles floating in the corners and leaned back against the wall.

"I'm leaving," he said briskly.

"WE'RE leaving," corrected Gabriella.

"You're staying here," corrected Harry. "It's too--"

"Too dangerous?" she snapped. "You think I don't understand danger?" She took to her feet. "I knew danger before you knew you were a wizard! Don't lecture me about--"

"Going where?" said Ron, raising his voice above the growing din.

"I'm going to Greece."

"WE are going to Greece," snapped Gabriella.

"Greece?"

"But the war," said Hermione with concern. "The Olympian Academy... you can't think you're going to battle again. You've done enough already."

"That he's alive at all, Hermione, is because of my blood," said Harry, his voice darkening. "Whatever part of him that's still alive needs it again, only the darkness he touched me with when I was a baby no longer flows through my veins. I was cleansed by the falls, so he's finished trying to seek immortality through me, but that hasn't stopped him from searching for another source of Potter blood."

"Jamie," whispered Hermione.

"Who's Jamie?" asked Patrick. Hermione shot Harry a look and he nodded in return.

"Tell him," he said.

"Harry has a son," she said quietly. "His name is Jamie, after Harry's father James." Patrick just looked at Harry with astonished eyes.

"And he's in Greece?" asked Patrick with a bit of excitement in his voice. "Where?"

A bit ashamed, Harry couldn't hold Patrick's gaze. Instead, he looked away and found a rather soured expression on Gabriella's face. "Fine! You can go!" he said. But she did not acknowledge his words. Rather, she looked about the room, as if searching for something that was causing an offensive odor. Ron noticed her expression as well.

"Dean had a bit too much to drink last time we were here," said Ron and then he looked at Harry. "I thought you got all that up."

"Ron!" chided Hermione.

"It wasn't me!"

"Oh, right. I'm sure you were an angel."

"Look," said Harry cutting in before they could gather up too much steam. He wasn't feeling well and was irritated for not having left an hour ago. "I should be back before breakfast. If I'm not..." he hesitated, "...if I'm not, you've got to be ready. Tomorrow morning you'll need to assemble the DA. They have to be ready for an attack on Hogwarts." He flipped his summoning coin to Hermione.

"But--"

"I'm not saying it's going to happen, I'm just saying you have to be ready. And don't plan on Dumbledore to help you. He's... He's dying."

"Dyin'!" cried Patrick. "That ain't possible. He can't... What happened?"

"Old age," said Gabriella, almost as an off hand remark. She was standing in the far corner of the room still looking for something, only now her wand was drawn."

"Are you sure, mate?"

"He told us himself. But don't tell the rest, not yet at least."

"I can't believe it," Hermione whispered to herself. She looked pale. "If they find out, they're sure to center their sites here. Voldemort's always wanted--"

"That's why you can't tell anyone and why you have to be ready while I'm gone," said Harry with a stern voice. Perspiration was beginning to prickle on his forehead. He was really not feeling well. "Voldemort's attacking Greece to find Jamie. He needs him to bring his corporeal self back. I'm not going to let that happen. I..." He stopped and looked at Gabriella. "WE are going to go get Jamie out of there and bring him back."

"Back?" asked Patrick.

"Yes," answered Harry. "But, while we're away, I still need to fulfill my pledge to protect the Centaurs. If there's an attack, I need to know you'll help. I need to know you'll all help." He looked at Patrick. "Will you?"

"As if we were brothers, Harry," said Patrick, rising to his feet, but not stepping closer. "Sorry fer what I said before. Yeh know me, I've got yer back." Exhausted, Harry slapped Patrick's shoulder and smiled. Pain throbbed at Harry's temples.

Seeing he was distressed, Hermione stood up and took Harry by the hand. "We'll take care of things while you're gone. Don't worry."

"Come on, Gab," said Harry. "You wanted to go. Let's go." Gabriella scanned the room once more and slipped her wand away.

"There is something not right here, Harry."

Ron stood up, swiping one of his fingers across the table, only to find it perfectly clean. He said, "I'll have one of the house elves give the place a total scrub down before you get back."

"Ron!" scolded Hermione.

"What? They like that sort of stuff."

"Don't think for a minute that house--" Before Hermione finished, Gabriella climbed upon Harry's broom, held him by the waist, and they were both through the red curtain and back to normal size, flying high above the castle grounds.

The night air was refreshing and Harry could feel it clean the cobwebs that were beginning to encroach upon his mind. The throbbing at his temples eased, and the nausea vanished. He loved flying.

"It's gone," whispered Gabriella from behind him.

"What's gone?" asked Harry.

"I'm not sure," she said. "But I can sense the change in you, just as I sense that I can once more breathe the fresh air again."

"Probably everyone's emotions about Dumbledore," he said. Pulling in a deep breath of cool air, he leaned forward on his broom, willing it faster, and the broom responded, forcing Gabriella to tighten her grip about Harry's waist. He smiled, but her face still bore an expression of concern.

"Perhaps," she whispered, glancing back one last time at the Marauder's Eye. "Perhaps."