Harry Potter and the Birth of a New Sun

Harry Potter and the Birth of a New Sun

Chapter 49 - Three's Company

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Ron Weasley watched in horror as Draco jumped to his death over the falls. It was a strange sensation - one mixed with joy for the triumph over darkness that it represented, pride in seeing the Slytherin take control, destroying the evil that had once controlled them both, and sorrow at the loss of someone he now considered a friend. Ron had remained connected mentally to Draco, and felt him battle the Dark Lord as Voldemort tried to take command of his body. Ron did what he could to help, but he knew it wouldn't last forever; so did Draco. When the blonde ran to sacrifice himself over the falls, Ron's connection was severed. Draco would plunge into the magical waters below and die, the evil of Voldemort washing away forever.

The exhilaration of victory and grief, twisting in Ron's guts, gave way to dismay when he saw the giant bat-like creature rising above the waters. He knew at once that Draco had lost the battle with Voldemort before ever striking the purifying waters. They had lost their last best chance at victory. Having Draco as his host, the Dark Lord would be more powerful than ever.

"It's Voldemort!" Ron yelled, trying to warn everyone, but that's all he could do. Ron tried to reach out with his mind, but the vampire was too far away for Ron to penetrate his thoughts. In fact, he appeared to be hovering at the far end of the falls for that very reason. All Ron could discern was that Voldemort's mind was fully turned on his hatred for Harry and his words echoed those thoughts.

When Harry vanished from Ron's side and appeared near the blast of green that pitted the ground on the other side of the small lake, Ron thought Voldemort was deliberately targeting him. But then he realized that Voldemort wasn't trying to kill Harry, he was trying to kill Jamie.

Ron turned to Dakhil and said, "He's trying to kill Harry's son."

Dakhil's expression showed that he was conflicted, unsure exactly what he should do. Seemingly unconcerned over the fate of Harry's child, his eyes were fixed on Draco. He picked at his teeth with his fingers, found a bit of tobacco with his tongue and spit it out into the air.

"Not to worry, Mr. Weasley," Dakhil said with steely eyes that never left the vampire hovering above the waters. "He'll try to kill us all before the morning sun rises."

Ron could only nod in agreement as he turned and levelled his wand at Draco. He'd never used a killing curse and while the waters seemed to speak to him, telling him to defend and not to attack, Ron was beginning to believe that murdering the murderer was their only recourse. Just when he had nearly convinced himself to let loose the spell, Dakhil pulled his arm down, motioning toward the cluster of rocks near the falls. "More targets for the arrogant bastard," he whispered. Popping over the ledge was Sirius Black and a handful of other wizards and Centaurs.

"The cavalry has arrived," said Ron smiling.

"It won't be enough," replied Dakhil calmly. "There are more Death Eaters moving in from the north. They'll be here soon. It simply means that when the end comes, more will die." His eyes looked up toward the heavens, but Ron wasn't sure what he was looking for. More vampires? Dementors? At the same time the ghosts began to move in toward the water. Dakhil sighed.

"I have lived a long time, Mr. Weasley, a long time... But I have never seen such a sight as this." The ghosts began to swirl about the waters. "If this is the night we die, know that you have witnessed what will be a history for the ages. If you survive, commit it to memory that your child and the children of those who have died this evening will know of this great magic and learn its meaning."

"Child?" asked Ron. "I don't have a--"

Someone yelled. There was a commotion going on over by Harry, but the density of the ghosts made it impossible to see exactly. Then Dakhil patted Ron's back and smiled. There was a shift in Dakhil's demeanour and for the first time a glimmer of hope flashed across his eyes,

"I knew it. He is here."

The earth rumbled as a dragon appeared from behind the trees and roared. Curses lit the already iridescent sky as the spells shot up from the ground. But, they missed their mark and, without apparent reason, Death Eaters began to fly into the water, disappearing beneath its surface.

"Did you see that?" he exclaimed, but Dakhil wasn't listening. Instead, he was lost in thought staring, trancelike, into space; he was having some secret conversation. He blinked and the conversation was over as quickly as it had begun.

"A new member," he muttered with a chuckle that sounded like to large stones banging together. "It was a pleasure knowing you, Ron Weasley. In all my years, I have met few friends as loyal as you." Dakhil began to laugh, slowly at first, but then it built up into a tremendous roar. Ron fell backward onto his arse as he watched Professor Barghouti transform into a vampire with arms thicker than Ron's thighs. The enormous creature shot from the ground and in an instant had his hands around Draco's neck. The ghosts kept swirling and for a moment Ron thought he saw a ghost that looked like Patrick trying to help Dakhil choke the life out of Draco. The tussling vampires began to descend toward the water; the white-tops that had been spun up in the whirlwind of the ghosts were churning higher and higher.

Ron rose to his knees and when he looked up he saw the comet that had been travelling across the night sky for the last many weeks. Like the ghosts over the lake, its tail also swirled about the planet Mars. He narrowed his eyes at the strange sight, wondering if it was some bizarre celestial illusion, but then the entire sky flashed and filled with light. Fred and George couldn't have done better. The light was so blinding, he was forced to turn his head away. That's when he felt the heat. The dragon had let loose its flame.

Shielding his eyes, he stole a squinted peak and watched as the flame struck down, past the two vampires fighting in the sky until it kissed the water. Steam exploded upward. The dragon wasn't going to stop. He kept flying down toward the vampires, emptying all the fire in his belly. The enormous winged beast was only a few yards from Dakhil and Draco when a small beam of red light, like a stunner, shot toward Harry. He was holding something in his hand. Ron couldn't see it, but he could hear Harry thinking about it. It was the vivificus stone - the Heart of Asha. The beam recoiled back a hundred times brighter. Dragon, water and the power of the stone struck the two vampires simultaneously and the world exploded. Ron was forced to close his eyes completely and then covered his face with his arm, but the blinding light still shone through. The pain was excruciating, as if his brain was being sucked out of his ears. In that moment, all he could think about was Hermione and how he wished he could have said he loved her, just one more time before they died.

If this was how it was to end, so be it, he thought. The mixture of emotions that had twisted his stomach just moments before had returned. They would win, but at what cost? What about the hundreds of wizards below the falls? He could only hope that Harry hade done the right thing. Ron relaxed, readying himself to pass into the next plane. In those final moments, he realized that hope had nothing to do with it. Ron Weasley was a fiercely loyal friend. He knew Harry maybe better than Harry knew himself. Perhaps he and the others would be casualties in the last great battle against Voldemort, but at least the fighting and the meaningless deaths would come to an end. The loyal friend was confident that Harry had indeed done the right thing.

Light gave way to dark and the world ended.

~~~***~~~

~~~***~~~

Everything was black - not black like night time black, but black like I've just been buried alive six feet under the ground kind of black. Was this it? Was this... death? Almost too scared to try, Harry made to breathe. His lungs filled with air, or at least they seemed to. The air here was still and heavy with a rich, damp, loamy odour that reminded Harry of... something. His heart was beating too fast to think properly. Beating?

He was on his back, lying on some sort of pad. A coffin? He had been vaporized; how could he be in a coffin? His hand reached out to touch the pad and he realized it wasn't a pad at all, but something thick and soft, layered in what felt like a spongy moss. When he turned to get on his feet, a wave of dizziness passed over him accompanied by a sharp pain in his right knee. Instinctively, he reached for his wand. It was there. Strange. He hadn't expected to carry his wand to heaven.

Harry readied to cast the spell and noticed that the mark of the dragon on his arm was radiating a dim orange glimmer. If it had been more intense, he would think it was a summons... but a summons to where? He straightened his leg and cast a blue light over his knee to knit the tendon that had been torn. Then he held the wand up high.

"Lumos Forte!" he cried. The wand lit bright, too bright to look at, but even with its intensity Harry couldn't discern the black velvety floor beneath his feet until he held the wand just inches away. Beyond that, all was darkness, no walls, no ceiling, nothing.

Harry didn't understand. Up until now the planes between life and death where one's life force hovered before choosing the final path it might take, those planes were coloured and beautiful. Birds were singing and the flowers were blooming in the plane where Harry had saved Hermione. Then a dread began to wash over him. Harry had visited Hermione in Hermione's plane. What if Hermione had been good and Harry had been... he didn't dare think it, but the thoughts came anyway. It was true. In his arrogance, he had led Voldemort to the Ministry and now Molly Weasley was dead. He had chosen power over love and, though he had committed himself to a new path, he was guilty of the greatest sin of all. He had murdered Anthony Goldstein after having sworn an oath to the waters of the falls. Was this to be his punishment for all eternity? An endless night?

He took a few steps, his feet making no sound as he moved forward. To his right, a white puff of smoke pushed through the spongy floor and disappeared into the inky darkness above. Then there was another... and to his left another. The puffs flitted upward and disappeared so quickly he had no chance to see their shape. Yet the puffs looked to Harry like--

Whispers.

Harry stopped with only the beat of his heart and the occasional flash of smoke and mist for company. Whispers - from somewhere behind. He turned and strained to hear more clearly. Someone was speaking. "Damn," he cursed under his breath. "If only I could..." Harry's eyes rolled up in his head amazed at his own stupidity. Of course he could. He didn't need his eyes to see. He closed his eyes and reached out searching for the auras before him and was immediately blinded by the intensity of life surrounding him.

How was it possible? This was death. Everything had been destroyed, yet he was surrounded by light everywhere. It was as if he was staring into the sun, its nuclear furnace burning a thousand times brighter than any known star. His brain ached and he closed off his second sight. The whispers continued unchanged in the dark distance. Unable to see a thing before him, he cautiously began to step toward the voices and, with each careful step he took, the sensation began to grow in his mind that someone or some thing was watching him.

He walked slowly, blind and unwilling to risk falling off some sort of cliff, or ledge. Thirty yards must have taken nearly thirty minutes; at least it felt that way. The voices grew clearer and what had sounded like hushed whispers was now becoming normal conversation hushed by the strange cavern he was in.

"For the last time, Draco," said the gravelled voice of Dakhil Barghouti. "This is not death." Another fluttering of mist shot up on Harry's left. He froze, wondering if the response would be that of Draco, or of Voldemort.

"I want it over with, Dakhil!" cried Draco. "You! You know the way! Where is it?"

"Yes, my son," said a high, cold voice. "But it is not our time. It is not my time. We will find the way out of this strange plane, but I assure you it will not be to cross over into eternal slumber. No. My path leads back to Hogwarts and you will be at my side and, as your father before, you will learn to like it there. Together we will see Hogwarts rebuilt anew, with the vision of its true creator. Together we will see to the final and utter destruction of Harry Potter. In the end, all will see that I am undeniably the greatest wizard of the ages."

Dakhil began to laugh. "The greatest wizard of the ages!" he said mockingly. The laughter stopped. "You are nothing but a cheap, second rate charlatan, boy!" There was a crack of green light that fizzled from Voldemort's wand some thirty meters away. "What? Did I hurt your feelings, boy? Your evil has no power here."

As Harry peered intently into the dark, trying to discern movement of the people he knew were out there, another wisp of white smoke rose directly in front of him; only this one hovered for a moment. Its shape began to shimmer and transform into the likeness of Patrick O'Riley. The dead second year stood in front of Harry, looking up at him with two bright blue eyes and a toothy smile on his face.

"It's happenin', Harry," he said with excitement. "The gate... the gate teh heaven is openin' and yer carryin' the keys. You... and the other blind dragon."

~~~***~~~

~~~***~~~

"Ron!" a voice cried from the darkness. "Ron!"

It was an eerie sound, as if someone were calling to him in the caverns beneath Hogwarts. Only a moment before there was the sound of crickets and other creatures stirring in the Forbidden Forest. There was the flow of the water crashing over the falls, the roar of the dragon and the beating of wings and stomping of hooves. All sound had fallen away save for the lone voice now calling him.

"Stay there, James! And for Merlin's sake don't touch anything. I said DON'T TOUCH! RON!"

The voice was nearer now. Ron lifted his hand up to his face and rubbed his eyes. His head ached. He lifted himself off his back onto one elbow and saw Gabriella running toward him, an eerie orange light bathing the left side of her face. Her eyes were open wide, two black dots staring back at him with concern.

"Ron!"

"I'm... I'm fine," he replied groggily, waving his hand dismissively. He shook his head trying to clear his thoughts. It felt as if he'd just apparated into a brick wall. He sat up, looking at the water across the small lake. Its surface glittered, but something wasn't quite right and his brain couldn't put it together. Before he could figure it out, Gabriella was at his side, bending low and asking him if he could walk. She smelled of flowers and sweat and the mixture sent a tingle down his spine that cleared his senses immediately.

"Yes, I can stand," he said trying to pretend he didn't need her help. When he did rise, the earth seemed to tip a little. He spun and caught his balance just in time to come face to face with a Death Eater. He grabbed his wand. "Stupefy!" he cried, but nothing came from the wand. It didn't even fizzle. Ron backed away, yelling again. "Stupefy!"

Again nothing happened and he cursed the new wand, questioning if Old Man Ollivander had duped him with a dud. He kept backing away until he tripped over a root and fell backwards into Gabriella's arms. She lifted him back to his feet.

"It won't work," she said dispassionately, "not that it matters. He can't hurt you, at least not yet." She lifted Ron back to his feet and stepped over to the Death Eater who hadn't moved since Ron rose. She pulled off his mask to reveal Mr. Crabbe, Vincent's father. His eyes were open wide with amazement, but there was no life in them. Gabriella dropped the mask and Ron waited to watch it hit the ground, but it remained suspended in mid-air.

"What... what..." he muttered, pointing at the mask. Then he glanced around. They were surrounded by Death Eaters and Centaurs, wizards and witches, but all were frozen as if they'd been blasted with a giant Petrificus Totalus spell. Nothing was moving except for the occasional wisp of white mist that would come in and out of view - the same ghosts that had been collecting and swirling around the lake since he'd arrived.

"I'd say time has stopped," said Gabriella, carefully placing the mask in its original position over Crabbe's face, "but not for everyone. The ghosts... you, me, James..." She glanced over to see James Chang leaning over his sister. "Don't touch her!" she yelled.

"But--"

"I said DON'T TOUCH!" James leaned back and nodded his head. "Who knows what will happen if we distort the timeline," she said to Ron as if he were thinking the same thing.

That's when Ron noticed the water. It too was still as ice. Even the splashes cascading over the falls were suspended in air, like diamonds captured in some frozen photograph. But, with the waters stationary, the glistening sparkles didn't make sense. That is, until he looked above the placid pool. Ten meters over the water's surface was a glowing sphere, an orb of fire at least a meter across. It was the same spot where Singehorn had come crashing down upon Dakhil and Draco, the same spot where the steaming waters had rushed upward, the same spot that Harry had--

Ron's eyes shot over to where Harry had last stood. He was gone.

"Harry," he whispered.

"Look," said Gabriella suddenly. She had been taking in the scene too, trying to discern what was going on. She pointed up to the spot where Ebyrth had been passing by Mars. The comet was gone and in that corner of the night sky the heavens appeared to be on fire - some sort of giant supernova. Did comets do that? Was Mars destroyed? Were the Centaurs right, was Harry Mars? And if Mars was gone, was Harry....

In that moment her bravery failed her and she began to weep. Ron took her by the arm and together they walked near the still shore toward James who appeared to be more in shock than anything else. Something was bothering him about Cho, but he wouldn't, or couldn't say what it was. It was understandable; hunched as she was over the ground, she looked dead. His head pounding, Ron wasn't sure he was in much better condition.

"Why us?" James finally asked, looking up at the pair as they approached. He kept kneeling next to his sister, Cho, and then pulling away as Gabriella had instructed. "What's happened?"

"The real question, James is not what happened, but what's happening?"

Gabriella stepped over to check on Tonks. Blood spotted the white cloak she was wearing. Guilt welled up in Gabriella's heart and the tears clouded her eyes.

"It's okay," said Ron, touching Gabriella's shoulder and then leaning over himself to look at Hermione who had been trying to save Cho. In her final moment, she was looking at the spot where Ron had stood, her mouth open as if in mid speech. "I love you to," he whispered, lightly brushing her hair.

"Ron, please... best not to touch."

Ron nodded as he watched a ghost swirling about the sphere of fire. The orb burned brightly above the still lake. Another ghost joined him. They drew near the sphere and, in a flash, plunged into the fire.

"What are they doing?" asked Ron. "Some sort of suicide?"

"I think...," said Gabriella slowly as two more ghosts paused and then entered the orb. "I think the gate has been opened. Harry spoke to me of this, but we both thought it impossible. Now... now I am not so sure."

"What gate?" asked Ron.

"A golden light... a new sun born... It looks like a sun, don't you think Ron? And above... in the heavens... something strange is happening."

More ghosts passed into the sphere.

"A gate to heaven?" asked James.

"A gate to the other side," answered Gabriella. "The House of Hayk believes that it is different for each of us. A resting place for all souls. Even the most evil of spirits, given a second chance, would choose to pass over."

"Evil?" Suddenly, Ron had his wand back in his hand. "If it's a gate, Gabriella, a gate that opens and closes... does it work both ways? Can ghosts pass from the other plane to here?"

"I suppose," she answered uncertainly. "But what person would choose to?"

"I can think of one," said Ron his fingers tightening about his wand.

It was then, they all three noticed. The white cloak, Voldemort's white cloak which had been floating in the middle of the lake, began to rise. It hovered above the water as if worn by some invisible wizard and then slowly turned to face them. For a moment it stayed in that position, the flickering fire shining above, reflecting off the iridescent robes, but then it began to move silently across the water... directly toward them.

"That can't be good," said Gabriella, pulling her own wand to the ready. "James, stay down."

"These things won't work, will they?" said Ron, giving his wand a bit of a twirl in his hand.

"No, they will not," said Gabriella flatly. "Even if we could cast a spell they would have no effect on the cloak. It's impenetrable."

"Bloody hell," said Ron, shaking his head. "What do you suppose it wants?"

"Don't be silly. It wants us."

~~~***~~~

~~~***~~~

The more Harry gawked, the more Patrick materialized before his eyes. His shape became more real, his bearing more human. Still, there was a bright aura about him that Harry could plainly see and Patrick's eyes, bright blue, glowed against the darkness like two perfectly set sapphires.

"I... I can see you," said Harry with astonishment.

"I've been with yeh the whole time, mate," said Patrick, still smiling. "Pretty crazy out there, eh? That dragon!" Patrick brushed himself off, removing some unseen soot and debris. "And the waters! Weird. Yeh didn't think I'd leave yeh?"

"Your... your eyes... they're glowing blue."

"They've always been blue. You know that, Harry," said Patrick, still smiling. He let out a considered breath. "Yeah, they say I take after me ma." For a moment, the smile faded and any doubt Harry had about who was standing before him faded as well.

"Me too," said Harry, breaking the brief silence. "Sorry, I didn't mean to--"

"S'alright," said Patrick. "I'll see her soon enough. But first, you and I have some unfinished business don't we?" He winked and pointed into the darkness toward the voices.

"Do you know this place?" Harry asked.

"Not a clue," answered Patrick and he strode off into the darkness. Before he faded from sight, he turned back to Harry. "Yeh comin'?"

"Yeah... yeah, I'm coming," replied Harry and he began to follow. As they walked, Harry's mind relaxed and his thoughts contemplated his surroundings. He had been here before; he was sure. "Singehorn's mountain," he whispered. The ground gently shook and Harry looked down. It was as if the earth were giggling.

"Here we are, mate," said Patrick brightly.

Harry looked up and came face to face with the likeness of Voldemort. His flat face lit by the light of Patrick's aura lacked colour and contrast. Still, the expression bore pure hatred and Harry was caught so off guard he prepared himself to be vaporized. He'd been betrayed again.

"YOU!" Voldemort cried in high, cold voice. His right hand reached about Harry's neck, but the fingers passed through his flesh, sending a blast of cold and giving Harry something of a brain-freeze. Unlike, Patrick, Voldemort had no corporeal form. The ground giggled again.

Voldemort drew his wand and Harry responded in kind. He would kill this time.

"Put it down, man. Those powers have no place here."

"That's right, mate," echoed Patrick. "The sword defends it does not attack."

"The waters...," Harry muttered. He turned to see Dakhil standing next to Patrick, his hand upon the boy's shoulder. Beyond them, sitting on the spongy floor was Draco, his blonde fringe hung over the grey eyes that refused to look up. Still holding his gaze on Voldemort, Harry stepped over to Dakhil and slipped his wand away.

"You're okay," he said with excitement. "You're alive."

"I wouldn't be too sure," said Dakhil as another ghost passed from the ground to the ceiling above.

"Where are we?" asked Harry.

"You don't remember?" Dakhil asked with a hint of disappointment.

"Singehorn's mountain," said Harry slowly. "Before the Joining. I was with Sirius..."

"You still forget that you've been joined. You overlook all that that entails, don't you, Potter? Flashes of thoughts... unexplained ideas... they trickle across your mind and you have no understanding as to why. I would have liked to have taught you how to better draw on that knowledge. Now there is no time." Dakhil pointed at Voldemort.

"Our friend here is as lost as you are, but then... you're not really lost, are you, Harry?"

Harry's mind began to close in on the answer just as Voldemort swept forward.

"YOU THINK I DON'T KNOW DEATH!" he spat. He moved toward them, gliding across the floor, his eyes blazing red as ever. "I have been to hell and back again. I have seen every imaginable gateway and have passed through fire and brimstone, extending life to its very limits. It is only a matter of time and the riddle here will be broken."

Two wisps of white streaked upwards and disappeared. A moment later another streak of similar colour came back the other way. It disappeared through the floor.

"He's going to tell the rest!" said Patrick with excitement. "As soon as they realize it's safe, there'll be a torrent of ghosts swarmin' through here from outside."

"The gate goes both ways?" Voldemort observed.

"What? Are yeh dense?" replied Patrick without much thought. "Of course it--"

"Don't even think about going back," interrupted Harry. This time he went to grab Voldemort's sleeve, but his hands passed through completely.

"Back?" asked Voldemort innocently. "I'm not thinking about going back... not alone."

He was smiling broadly, his eyes fuelled by hatred. Harry had seen that look before and it always ended badly. He was about to ask Patrick if he knew how they could force Voldemort through to the other side when the chamber began to grow noticeably colder. If it was possible to discern at all, the darkness above their heads seemed to swirl in different shades of black. It was as if a small thundercloud had appeared above them and was working its way down from the darkness. An instant later, Voldemort appeared - a second Voldemort. He materialized behind Dakhil and his hands were at his throat. This time the grip held fast, causing Dakhil to give a small gasp, though he did not struggle, nor did he seem in the least surprised at what had just happened.

Still lit by the light of Patrick's aura, Harry looked from one Voldemort to the other. He recognized this newcomer. He was more familiar. They had met before, many times before. The last encounter was in the Chamber of Death deep in the bowels of the Ministry.

"I... I killed you," Harry whispered, staring at the Voldemort that held Dakhil.

"And yet... here I am," was the reply, lilted with too much bravado. The chamber filled with the sound of dripping water and it took a moment to realize that it was coming from the robes of this new Voldemort. Small ghostly drips fell to the floor disappearing, but still making a distinctive drip sound.

"I'm beginning to like these odds better," said the wraithlike Voldemort. "Still, we could do better, I think."

Another blast of cold air filled the room. The darkness above them swirled. This time Harry was ready, though unsure what or who exactly to expect. Lucius? He pulled his wand. Dakhil made to say something, but his words were cut short by the new Voldemort.

"Harry!" yelled Patrick. "Watch--"

Too late. Someone had their wand at Harry's throat.

"Drop the wand, Potter."

The voice was young and commanding. Harry obliged and turned round to see Tom Riddle, still wearing the green robes of Slytherin. They were stained black with ink and smelled of the girl's toilet.

"I- I killed you too," Harry stammered.

"A mistake that will soon be remedied," replied Riddle. He gnashed his teeth with a distinct clicking sound.

"Yes, yes," said the drippy Voldemort. "The time of our retribution is at hand."

"Draco!" yelled Harry. "Do something!"

But Draco continued to stare down at the dark ground, his mind in another world. Patrick ran towards Riddle, but the moment he tried to attack he was repelled by some sort of shield charm.

"Curious," Riddle said with an evil grin. "Perhaps, when I return, I will be fortunate enough to retain this power. It would serve me well."

"Return?" asked Harry nervously. The wraithlike Voldemort moved closer.

"I may not have been able to return in full form alone," he said. "But my souls are now together; the Horcrux can be rejoined. We will return more powerful than ever! All we need is a little willing blood. Rise Draco and stand ready to rule the world!"