Harry Potter and the Birth of a New Sun

Harry Potter and the Birth of a New Sun

Chapter 34 - A Point of Departure

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It was a stone. It wasn't a very large stone, more like a pebble, but one corner of it, at least, was very sharp. It protruded up off the ground and nipped at Harry's back like a baby dragon nibbling at its mother's haunches. Only, Harry's back was much less forgiving and the stone far more tenacious. He lay there, in the darkness, debating what he should do. He knew, on Merlin's grave, no matter how hard he tried, there would be no chance that he would simply go back to sleep. He'd already tried to shift... a little, but that only caused the stone's sharp edge to scrape across Harry's back. There was nothing for it; he would have to get up. Besides... he had to pee.

But on second thought, he could reach for his wand. That wouldn't hurt... much. Maybe he'd summon it under his breath. He could just pee where he lay and then clean the mess up after. Who would know? Gingerly, his hand slipped further to the right, but then stopped. Gabriella, now sleeping at his side so close he could feel her breath against his shoulder, might know if he weren't fast enough... and, the more he thought about it, he did have to pee pretty badly. That wouldn't do; being married was no excuse. The stone nipped again, reminding him of his predicament, as the light of Ebyrth streamed through the crumbled walls of the castle and bathed the couple in a white glow now more intense than any full moon.

Swearing he wouldn't swear, at least not out loud, Harry rolled over onto his right side to better position himself so that he could then rise to his feet. The motion wasn't much, but the sensation was intense. Stars of pain filled his vision as the agony screamed across his body. It radiated outward from the wounds on his chest that refused to heal properly and penetrated every limb, striking the tips of his fingers and toes like a sledge hammer and bouncing back to his very core. Clenching his teeth, he fell to his elbows, his forehead flat on the floor, and he swallowed the scream.

Harry, Gabriella and a handful of the Order were still on the grounds of Sirius' castle, but there had been so much damage caused by Harry's spell, a spell he still had not admitted to casting, there were only a few places safe to sleep in. Despite everyone's efforts to magically support the structure, portions of the ceiling would crumble down, walls would collapse, or, worse, suddenly appear. Sirius had asked Harry to travel to St. Mungo's, but he refused. In his present state, he felt he was too great a target and he already knew that St. Mungo's was not, by any stretch of the imagination, a safe haven from darkness.

Harry lightly slapped the floor with his palm, sending dust into the air. Weeks!

It had been weeks and still his wounds would not mend. Early after the attack, a Healer from St. Mungo's had come to see Harry and had muttered some gobbledegook about vampire venom. "Quite an unusual case," he had said, passing Sirius a few potions and telling him to administer them with caution because of their potency. They were worthless. No, thought Harry, as a pang poked at his lower abdomen. They were less than worthless. They only made him need to pee!

"Fu-uck!" Harry groaned out in anger, pounding his fist to the ground. He regretted it immediately. Before you could say, "They shoot horses, don't they?" Gabriella was awake and at his side.

"Harry," she exclaimed, gently placing her hand on his back. "Sweetheart, what in Asha's name are you doing?"

Too late. A puddle pooled about his knees.

"Fuck! Fuck! Fuck!"

Without a word, Gabriella had it cleaned. "You should have told me you needed help. I would have--"

"I don't need help!" he yelled. He would have pushed her away, if he hadn't known the agony he would have to endure for even the slightest motion. She said nothing and simply waited in the silence at his side.

The truth was he needed her more than ever. Without her help, without her support, he would have surrendered to his injuries long before now. Still, no matter how much love she could offer him, there was still nothing that could be done. No one's attempts to cure him had worked and the pain was growing worse with each passing day. Even being levitated from one place to another was pure torture. He could, no longer, count on one hand the number of times he'd been tempted to turn to the vivificus stone to heal his own injury. Once, late at night, he'd gone so far as to remove it from its hiding place next to his liver and hold it in his hand, rubbing its moist surface with his fingers. He could not remember how much time had past before he returned the stone to its home. Now, his thoughts skittered on summoning it again.

He took in a deep breath and dropped flat onto the dusty floor. Another pebble poked at his shoulder. He smiled.

"Well, hell..." he said, blowing a small plume of dust with his words, "at least I don't have to pee anymore."

"Let me call Mama," said Gabriella, lowering herself down, laying her head flat in the dirt to look Harry in the eyes. "I'm sure she could--"

"No."

"Harry, don't be silly. You know her skill with potions, her relation with... Dakhil. If anyone has the experience to heal your wounds, it will be her."

"I told you already. It's not safe here. Merlin, you shouldn't even be here. You should be back at--" Harry stopped before he said Hogwarts and swallowed. Word had arrived the day after Cho and Tonks had left with Jamie. Dumbledore had been killed by Voldemort. Cho, Tonks and Jamie had disappeared, but so had Remus and Snape.

Dakhil was the one that brought the news, a bit too gleefully, Harry thought. He seemed to enjoy repeating how wrong Harry had been in assuming Voldemort had come to Greece. He never said it directly to Harry, but repeated it to nearly everyone, just so Harry could hear... over and over. It had been a trap all along and Harry had fallen for it. When Dakhil had examined Harry's wounds, his eyes showed recognition, but he shook his head, commenting on how nasty they were, and had denied knowing of any cure.

He left, vaguely assuring Harry that all was well at Hogwarts. "They are hidden beyond even my reach," he had said. "As for Voldemort, that path depends on the strength of Professor Snape. By the count of three full moons, we will know."

"Why, what happens then?" Harry had asked, but Dakhil only smiled, flashing two rows of sharp teeth. "When you are well," he hissed, and disappeared.

Gabriella pinched Harry's earlobe, perhaps the only place she could touch that wouldn't send him into convulsions of pain. "You are NOT a magnet for death, Harry!"

"You've seen the ghosts that are left hovering about," said Harry, waving a finger into the air without lifting his wrist from the ground. "They think I'm already dead. The rest are at Hogwarts, thinking I'll bring them eternal peace, or something. Although, now that I think of it, I could use some eternal peace right about now. Gabriella, will you kill me when the time comes?"

"Argh!" she yelled in exasperation. "I don't care anymore." She let go of Harry's ear and crawled over to sit on the blanket where she and Harry had been sleeping. "I can see my mother anytime I want and I haven't seen her since Christmas. I don't need your permission, even if we have been joined."

Gabriella crossed her legs and held her hands together in her lap. She closed her eyes and a faint glow began to surround her. She was summoning her mother, Harry knew that. It was the way of the women of Asha. They were all linked; distance made no difference.

"I will not allow you to--" Harry began, but with a strike faster than a basilisk Gabriella had tapped him on the head with her wand. He was out cold.

Harry woke to the warmth of morning sunlight against the side of his face and the intense aroma of cooking sausages, wafting through the air. Notable was that the aroma didn't carry with it the blackened smell of burning meat, which told him at once that Sirius was, thankfully, not cooking this morning. He had yet to open his eyes, but when Gabriella began to laugh somewhere just to his left, he knew that she wasn't the cook either. He didn't need to open his eyes to know that Soseh had arrived. In fact, he kept them closed and, instead, Harry reached out to sense the auras surrounding him. He had not used this power since the attack and was surprised to see his vision filled with tremendous brightness. Nearly all the rubble still clustered in piles was glowing bright orange as if it were alive. It took some time for him to adjust to the brightness and detect the people about him: Gabriella... Sirius... Mad Eye... some unfamiliar wizard Harry couldn't recognize, standing in a pile of glowing orbs... Soseh! He dwelt upon her for a moment, and noticed her aura brighten. She was suddenly smiling.

"Gabriella!" yelled Soseh from near the fire and the cooking sausages. "Your husband is hungry. Can you not sense it? I thought I taught you better than that." A cool sense of fear splashed across Harry's insides. Without thinking, he brought his hands together to cover the ring burnished into his flesh. He didn't notice that the motion was not painful.

"Even an old woman like me can tell--"

"Sorry, Mama!" replied Gabriella, but there was a slight sense of exasperation in her voice which Harry had rarely heard when Gabriella spoke with her mum. She dropped next to him on her knees.

"I already knew you were awake," she whispered irritably. "You should know better than to go probing around with your mind and not expect Mama to sense you." He kept his eyes shut.

"I didn't know--"

"Is it true? Are you hungry?"

He understood the sceptical lilt to her question. Even though Gabriella was a wonderful cook in her own right and had fed the others until they burst, Harry had eaten little, particularly over the last week or so. The pain that had penetrated through his flesh and into his bones had been growing worse and even potions were difficult to swallow. He really had not been hungry and held a hidden fear that the reason for his lost appetite was that his cravings might one day turn toward blood.

Hungry? Now that he thought about it... the sausages did smell pretty good. He opened his eyes and took her by the hand, rolling her ring in his fingers.

"You told her?" he whispered. "About... us?"

"I didn't have to," she whispered back. "She saw the rings. When she asked, she saw my eyes. There was nothing I could do. I'm sorry. I didn't mean--"

"Sorry?" He reached up to touch her face. It was then that he noticed; he had lifted his arm into the air and it didn't hurt. He smiled... for many reasons. "I love you. Have I told you that?"

"Not lately," she said with a sharp smile.

"I know. I'm sorry for that. I've been..." He turned and, for the first time that he could remember, looked down at the wounds on his chest. The gauze dressing that had been constantly seeping with blood had been changed and the velveteen cloth that now covered his chest was coated with some sort of paste that smelled of cinnamon and cayenne pepper. Steeling himself for the stabbing pain that did not come, he took in a deep breath. He exhaled in ecstasy.

"And did I tell you I love your mum more?" He smiled blissfully as he relaxed and glanced over toward Soseh who was busily preparing food, although Harry felt as if she was watching him nonetheless. Further beyond, Sirius and Mad-Eye were erecting a stone wall with their wands. Harry was surprised to see that they'd actually made great progress since last he'd looked. There was a young wizard with them, perhaps twenty-five, that Harry didn't...

"Antreas?" he asked, looking back at Gabriella and resting back onto the floor.

"Mama called for him, when she found out... about us," said Gabriella quietly. "She's all but told me that there's going to be a proper ceremony. She insists that it happen quickly because I'm not getting any younger. And if I hear one more crack about..." Gabriella drew in a deep breath, clenching her teeth. "Can you believe... she actually chided me for being one down to Cho?"

"One down?" Harry asked, trying to grasp the meaning. "Ohhh..." Harry couldn't help but smile. "I'm not really sure here's the best place to get started, but... if your mum insists..."

"Would you stop!" she said, pulling his fringe down into his eyes.

"Give the man some room, Gabriella," snapped Soseh. "He needs to eat!" Talking to Gabriella, Harry hadn't noticed how close Soseh had come. In her hand was a mug of steaming broth. Harry began to salivate, but the back of his throat was still sore and he didn't think he could swallow more than a sip.

"I need you to sit up, Harry," insisted Soseh. "Sit straight. We don't want this to go to waste." She held up the mug. Harry tried to sit up.

"Maybe just a little. I'm not really ready to--"

"Don't be silly," she interrupted and put her left hand behind Harry's back, while holding the mug with the other. With astonishing strength she lifted him forward. He expected her to lift the mug to his lips, but instead she held it against his stomach, just below his breastbone. "A sá, se leen," she chanted.

Harry thought it was an illusion of some sort. For an instant, her hand holding the mug disappeared into his abdomen and then reappeared. Harry believed he was seeing things until she held the mug upside down and smiled, flashing her gold tooth.

"Try to keep it down and in a few minutes you will eat properly."

She stepped back over to the stove and called for the others to come eat. While they gathered at a large wooden table near the stove under the open sky, Harry felt the warmth spread within him. Then, abruptly, there was an overwhelming urge to burp, but he resisted. The sensation past and with its passing came a new sense of strength and vigour. Yes, he was hungry. Gabriella noticed the change.

"Harry?" she asked cautiously. He sat up completely, which drew some smiles from the others, most noticeably Sirius.

"Well," he sneered, taking a roll from a bowl in the middle of the table, "we nearly have the first floor finished and you decide it's time to get up from your nap. What a sluggard!"

Harry glanced over to the work that had been accomplished. For weeks, Sirius and various members of the Order had attempted to reassemble the walls of the castle, but always with little success. Shacklebolt had insisted that some nefarious dark magic was at play, and no one disagreed, figuring that whatever curse Malfoy had set upon the castle to destroy it was still present in the air. When the conversation led to such discussions, Harry always found his pain more agonizing and was rarely able to speak. Gabriella would wipe his brow with a cool rag, but the whiteness of her lips told him she knew more than she was willing to speak openly about.

Before joining the others at breakfast, Antreas cast one more spell at the wall. He spoke in Armenian, but Harry understood the spell: Rest.

"Rest?" he whispered to himself, but Gabriella heard.

"Look at the stones Antreas has set, Harry," she whispered back. "See what the others cannot."

Harry let his mind reach out and noticed at once that the stones in the standing wall were cold, emanating very little light as he would expect. But the stones still piled about, remnants of the spell he cast that destroyed the castle were glowing hot as if they were still on fire... as if the very rock was alive. Gabriella took him by the hands.

"The stones hold too much energy to be mortared back together with simple magic," she whispered. "Antreas, one with the Votary, saw it when he arrived this morning. I don't think I've ever seen him so afraid before."

"Afraid?" Harry asked. "Afraid of what?"

"Not what, Harry. Who." Her eyes were stern and unforgiving as she pulled him to his feet, kissed his cheek and breathed into his ear, "Smile. It is expected."

It was the first time he'd been on his feet since the attack, and the motion drew applause from the others. He'd taken a few steps, when he realized he'd left his wand on the ground behind him. He turned, held out his hand and summoned it into his palm without saying a word.

"Okay, now you're just showing off, Potter," said Sirius with a smile. Harry's godfather then looked over to Soseh. "You're a miracle worker, Soseh," he said grandly. "A miracle worker."

"Such wounds are not uncommon to my people, Sirius," she said graciously. "You must spend more time in the mountains and you will learn as all those who have served the dragon."

"I think I'll stay right here near the sea, thank you very much." Sirius took a sip of coffee. "And with Antreas' help, we might just get this place done in a day or two." He repositioned a chair, pulling it out from under the table.

"Here, Harry," he said. "Take a seat. You still look a bit pale."

As Harry sat down next to Sirius, Gabriella moved over to help her mother. They were whispering, but Harry couldn't tell what they were saying. As Soseh turned toward the table with a platter full of food, she called to Gabriella over her shoulder, "And I don't see what a war has anything to do with me not having a grandchild!" She placed the platter in front of Harry.

"Have a sausage, dear," said Soseh, patting Harry's back, "and a few fried potatoes. And sip on this." She positioned another mug with a steaming potion in front of Harry.

"Would you stop, Mama!" cried Gabriella, taking out her wand and vanishing the mug from Harry's hands just before it reached his lips. "He barely had strength enough to walk over to the table!"

Soseh simply shrugged, rolled her eyes, and returned to the stove with a sly smile. Harry looked at the empty space between his fingers, where the mug had been, as the others laughed.

"Not all potions are healing potions, Potter," said Mad-Eye with a chuckle. "You'd best start carrying your own drink, if you know what's good for you." Mad-Eye pulled out his familiar flask, cheered Harry, and took a sip.

Nearly an hour had past before Harry had satiated his hunger. He ate slowly, with some effort, but enjoyed every bite. The others went back to work before he had completed the meal. Gabriella seemed to be watching her mother quite carefully, but there were, apparently, no more attempts at tinkering with Harry's food or drink.

The more he ate the more strength he gained. Before he was half done, his mind began to turn toward Hogwarts and the familiar anxiety about what was happening there began to creep back in. Injured and unable to do anything, he had been free not to take action. But with his strength now returning, he felt obligated to do something. Growing more anxious, his finger began to tap the side of his plate and Gabriella noticed his nervous foot tapping against the leg of the table. When he finally put his fork down, he'd felt for the first time in ages as if he was his old self again. But with that old self, came the old commitments and responsibilities that were, even now, beginning to weigh down Harry's heart.

"Thank you, Soseh," he said, "I owe you my life."

"Something like that," she said with a twinkle in her eye. Sitting across the table from Harry, she leaned toward him. Her eyes were piercing, penetrating, but her expression was as warm as any mother's. Somehow, he knew that she knew... his mind had turned toward Hogwarts and what he must now do.

"In your heart," she said softly, "you would go to protect those whom you love. I see you, even now, searching for the words to say good-bye."

Harry's eyes looked away. Soseh reached across the table and held his hand.

"My son, all the world calls for your aid, and you would do well to serve the noble causes that summon you. But..." Her hand gently tightened about his. "... you will be unable to serve anyone faithfully until you right the wrongs with which these grounds are suffused."

Harry looked over to Gabriella whose expression was sad... perhaps frightened. He'd never seen that look before and felt himself coming to a precipice. His heart told him that Soseh was right. He'd been living a lie, letting the others believe that Anthony had died at the hand of Lucius Malfoy and his Death Eaters. But his mind was calling him to defeat Voldemort before the darkness consumed his son.

Harry's eyes met Soseh's. "There's... there's no time," he said, shaking his head, his foot tapping up and down now, worse than ever. "I must return to--"

"If you leave now," Soseh interrupted, seeing the agitation in Harry's demeanour, "the curse you placed here will go uncured. Antreas can help to rebuild these walls, but only you can banish the anger. Only you can set right your own wrongs. If you choose to leave this darkness unchecked, the curse will follow you. You may succeed in saving your friends, but you will suffer the fate of Pravus."

The time Harry had spent with Gabriella's grandmother in Armenia last summer flooded back into his memory. He recalled her stories of Pravus, the ages before and the ages yet to come... the curses and counter-curses... the defeats and the victories of beast and magic. It was the stuff of myth and legend, the tales of old wives' and fairies. Why couldn't Gabriella and Soseh understand? Didn't they realize that Cho and Jamie could die? He needed to save them... save them now.

"Don't you see?" asked Harry, his hand now unconsciously tightening back about Soseh's. "Dumbledore's dead. I can't wait. Otherwise--"

"Harry, listen," said Gabriella anxiously. "You don't yet understand the extent of your powers. What you did here, not even Pravus was capable of, not alone. To summon the power of the dragon like you did... please, you need time... time to understand how to control your powers, time to explore how your strength and emotions connect. Anger only serves to--"

"I don't have time!" Harry snapped back, slamming his hand into the table. He saw Soseh wince. Without saying a word she pulled her hand back.

"Mama?" said Gabriella with concern. Harry looked down and saw that one of Soseh's fingers was turned in the wrong direction. He'd forgotten they were holding hands when he slammed down into the table. He had broken her finger, but she hadn't made a sound.

Gabriella held her mother's wrist, pulled her wand and set the bone straight. For one, brief moment, Soseh looked up at Harry. She bore a sad smile, stood from the table and, before Harry could gather himself to say a word, walked away, disappearing behind a pile of rubble that bordered the edge of the repaired castle walls. Gabriella's expression, however, was the furthest from a smile. Harry had seen her upset before. He had seen her angry. He would sooner look into Voldemort's eyes than hold the expression now before him. He searched for what to say... what to do.

"I... I'm sorry."

Facing him, Gabriella stepped back from the table. The ground rumbled as another wall fell into place somewhere nearby. How close the others were, Harry didn't know. She pointed her wand straight at his chest and Harry fully expected to be blasted. He made no attempt to reach for his own. He deserved what ever he was about to get. But instead of casting a spell, she reached over and pulled the golden ring off her finger. With eyes of fire, she stepped close to him, and dropped the ring at his feet.

"I will not be married to the second Pravus," she said and slapped his face. Harry closed his eyes, there was a snap, and when he opened them, Gabriella had disapparated.

The ground rumbled again and Harry heard cheers from down a corridor. Antreas and the others were celebrating some sort of victory, perhaps another wall had been erected. He reached down and picked the ring up from off the ground. He looked at it for a moment, then slipped it into his pocket.

Alone in a kitchen with one wall that was open toward the sea, he looked around at the work that still needed to be accomplished. Perhaps twenty yards away was where Anthony had stood when Harry incinerated him. Suddenly, he felt very cold again.

Even if he could help to repair the damage he had done, it would take days to reassemble the final walls and then begin on the higher floors and parapets. Even if he was able to correct the wrongs of his actions, he had no idea how long removing such a curse would take - certainly longer than the time he had at hand. Voldemort could be attacking at any moment. Jamie was in danger and, if Voldemort reached Jamie, the world would be at risk. Harry would have to open the book on curses and fairytales another day.

As if in defiance, the walls rumbled again, but the shudder wasn't because of construction. There was a crash down the same corridor from which came, only moments before, the cheers of the others. Except, this time, Harry heard one of them desperately cry out, "Sirius!"

Harry pulled his wand...

"There isn't any time," he whispered to the walls.

... and disapparated.