Harry Potter and the Birth of a New Sun

Harry Potter and the Birth of a New Sun

Chapter 50 - Love Lost

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Their feet but a few metres from the motionless lake, Ron and Gabriella continued to hold their wands at the ready, pointing them steadily at a hovering piece of fabric that looked little more than a cheap prank on Halloween. The shimmering, disembodied fabric, however, was no tawdry parlour trick, for it was imbued with an ancient and dark magic that few wizards would dare think of attempting and fewer still could succeed at accomplishing. This was the final Horcrux of Voldemort's making. The only thing accompanying them was the great burning sphere above the lake, its flames shifting colour between gold, red and purple. Unaware of the unholy trinity now taking place in the gateway opened by Singehorn above the waters, Gabriella thought that, if they could destroy it, they would have finally defeated Voldemort. Unfortunately, she was completely wrong.

"S-Silly?" Ron stammered. It was all he could do to keep his wand steady and with good reason. The battle about the lake had been raging for over an hour and nothing had harmed the cloak. It wasn't tattered, or soiled and looked as if it was fresh from Madam Malkin's. "I'm not being silly. If spells can't harm it, and arrows won't pierce it, what are we going to do?"

"You're the mind reader!" snapped Gabriella. "What does it want?"

For a moment, Ron hesitated. If anything was silly, reading the mind of a bolt of cloth was at the top of the list and if it was Voldemort in there... He shuddered. He'd been preparing for that eventuality since he'd been taken over in the Gryffindor common room. It had worked with Snape and a little with Draco, but he had their help then. This was different.

"Well?" asked Gabriella.

"Give me a bloody minute, woman!"

He steadied his thoughts and reached out with his mind to see if the floating piece of fabric had a consciousness. The surface images he received were simple, clear and powerful - the robes wanted something and Ron and Gabriella had them. In some respects it felt like the mind of a child, but when he tried to press further he was repelled immediately. Only Harry had developed that skill; Harry... and one other. He staggered backward.

"I guess that means something?" said Gabriella, a bit of tension rising in her voice.

"You're right. The bloke's coming for us... all of us. Something's compelling him. It's like... like a kid in a candy store that wants... no... he thinks we've taken something of his and he wants it back. He won't tell me what it is. He thinks reaching us is his sole mission. M-Maybe he needs a body."

"Then you felt something? Someone was... was there?" They both took a singular step backward as the robes drew nearer. "Because, all I'm sensing is fear and--"

"I'm not afraid!" said Ron emphatically. "Someone's there, damn it. It's alive, or as alive as something like that can be."

Gabriella's hand began to shake. The tremble began at her fingertips, moved to her shoulder and then consumed her whole body. Still holding her wand high, tears began to streak down her face. She had to wipe them away with her free hand to keep from clouding her vision. Again, they each stepped backward.

They were even with James now, who simply gawked at the robes hovering over the water. Ron grabbed him by the shoulder with his free hand. "Move," he said, but James pulled away. He would not leave his sister. Then Ron noticed Gabriella crying.

"What is it, Gab?" he asked. Again they stepped back. "I know you're not afraid. What's wrong?"

"Harry..." she began, but had to swallow, doing all she could to keep her voice steady. She was beginning to realize the implications of the risen robes. "If the Horcrux has been woken, then... then... then it worked. Voldemort's wraith is dead. Singehorn gave his life and destroyed them all. Draco's dead, Dakhil's dead, Harry's... H- H-," she breathed, but could not bring herself to say it.

"That's not true!" Ron barked. "He... he wasn't over the water. He was there, right where you're standing. He can't be... he can't--"

"Then where is he, Ron?" Gabriella screamed back. "WHERE IS HE?"

Steeped in their feelings for someone they loved dearly, they took another step back, not registering that James and his sister were now between them and the approaching white Horcrux.

"I don't know," whispered Ron, a sense of finality in his voice. "I don't know." For the first time, he was beginning to truly believe that Harry was gone, gone forever. He grew angry.

"Incarcerous!" he yelled, hoping to trap the robes, but his wand did nothing. Gabriella repeated the spell, but with the same failed results.

"Useless," she whispered with a sniff. "Time is frozen." They both slipped their wands away.

As the robes grew near the shore, she noticed small silver fingers of water rise up out of the lake. They curled around the tips of the white cloak. Ron hoped that they would attack and pull him under, but they appeared more playful, like a litter of little puppies jumping about their master's legs. Finally, he was on land, still hovering off the ground as if the robes were worn by an invisible man. It was then that Gabriella realized that James was still crouched over his sister's body, muttering something.

"James," she said in a half-hushed voice, trying to get his attention without rousing the robes any more than they were. "James, come here!"

James looked up at Gabriella, but the move put his back toward the robes. He stood.

"RUN!" she yelled, but it was too late. They watched as the robes lifted an invisible arm that looked as if it grabbed James by the neck. A white sleeve hung straight out and, though no arm or hand could be seen, it was clear that Voldemort had a hold of James.

The boy's eyes popped open as if a cold poker had just been run through his heart. His mouth was wide with horror and out of the gape came a puff of black smoke. The other arm of the white robes rose up and the smoke disappeared down the sleeve. James' eyes closed, his mouth closed, and he fell motionless on the ground.

"NO!" Gabriella cried out, but neither she nor Ron had any idea of what they might do to stop the Horcrux.

Voldemort, if that's who this now was, continued to slide across the ground toward the body of Tonks. The move wasn't random; it was purposeful. His arm reached out again, but not toward Tonks. This time it was toward Hermione who sat frozen in time, leaning over her dead friend.

"Ron...," Gabriella whispered.

Voldemort's arm reached out toward Hermione's back

"Stop it!" yelled Ron.

"Don't do anything--"

Ron rushed the robes, screaming loudly as he went. If he couldn't use magic, he'd tear the threads to pieces. Voldemort shifted and held his left arm out. You couldn't see the hand, but every sense projected that there was some human shape controlling the magical robes. Ron punched at where a head might be. The robes staggered for a moment. Gabriella sensed the reaction to pain; the robes were mad. The left arm spun and grabbed Ron by the wrist. Instantly, he froze. His expression bore the same eyes and the same mouth, and the same black smoke issued forth and, just like James, Ron crumpled to the ground next to Hermione. Gabriella screamed.

Undaunted, the robes bent back down toward Hermione. There was a blue light that erupted from the left sleeve that passed back and forth from her shoulder blades, to the bottom of her spine and back again. There was no black smoke this time and nothing seemed any different after Voldemort had finished. Maybe he could only kill the ones that were walking around. None of it made any sense. She was the last one standing and she had no idea what to do.

Voldemort slid back toward the water's edge. For a moment, she thought he might return to the lake, but as he approached James and Cho he stopped. Stepping over James' body the robes bent low toward Cho and the sleeves moved out toward her. There was a giggle as the robes pulled a small boy out from under her robes. Little Jamie had been hiding there and unlike all the others in suspended animation, he was every bit as active as Gabriella.

"Jamie," she breathed. It was all that she had left of Harry and she wasn't going to let the beast have him. She would have to make her charge, but how?

The robes carried Jamie back toward the water. What was he doing? The little fingers of silver reappeared at the water's edge in eager anticipation. Voldemort took Jamie in both hands and bent down. Surely the water wouldn't hurt a child. The fingers reached up. Gabriella thought that if she knocked them both into the lake, she could at least get Jamie and run. He can feel pain. While he wasn't looking, Gabriella made her move.

She ran hard and, approaching the robes, leapt high into the air, planning to strike him squarely at the top of his spine with her foot, hoping to drop him where he stood that she might save Jamie. She'd practiced this move for years, but had never really used it on anyone because the result could be fatal. It was her most powerful move and, for Gabriella, that meant something.

The robes, unlike a human body, were more flat than filled - almost two-dimensional. He must have heard her approaching because he stopped bending over to see what the sound was. When he turned to face her, the robes nearly disappeared, at least from her perspective. There was nothing left to kick. Her foot missed completely and she tumbled in the air, straight into the water.

Harry had told her of the water's cleansing powers. She had seen with her own eyes what the lake had done to the three Death Eaters that had been pulled into its depths. Now it was her turn. She was worried and with good reason. The purity of the lake was the last place Gabriella wanted to be. After all, she had murdered her headmaster at Al Bsahri and had just intended to kill again.

~~~***~~~

~~~***~~~

"I'm done," Draco whispered to the floor. "I'm not going back."

"You don't seem to understand, boy," said the wraithlike Voldemort. "You don't have a choice!" The other splits of Voldemort's soul began to murmur their agreement. The one Harry had killed last year, still held his wand at Harry's neck and the younger, evil, Riddle still held Dakhil by the throat.

It was obvious to Harry that Dakhil could have done something to free himself, but he chose to simply stand in the dim light of Patrick's glow, biding his time. The wraithlike Voldemort moved toward Draco.

"Stand up!" he commanded. He grabbed Draco by his hair and pulled. Draco reached up with his right hand and grabbed Voldemort's wrist. In an instant he had the evil creature on his stomach, flat on the ground, Draco's knee firmly planted in his back.

"I told you," said Draco, leaning toward Voldemort's ear. "I'm not going back!"

The Voldemort that had been guarding Harry turned his wand on Draco. Harry reached to grab his arm, but his hands passed right through as if the Voldemort he had killed last year was nothing but mist. The exact same thing had happened when the wraithlike Voldemort had tried to grab Harry by the neck. He was nothing but vapour.

"Avada Kedavra!" cried the Voldemort by Harry. His wand sputtered, sparked and fizzled, but nothing more. Dakhil chuckled.

"This one," said Riddle, referring to Dakhil. "I could use this one to return."

Harry began to realize that, wherever they were, wands had no power to attack. Somehow, the waters of the lake were having an effect. Seeing the opportunity, he ran toward Riddle and moved to tackle him. He wondered if, like Patrick, he'd be repelled, but no such force shoved him backward. When he reached around Riddle's middle, Harry's arms slipped right through as if he were trying to hug a cloud. Riddle continued to hold Dakhil by the throat.

Draco noticed and, as if to test a theory, grabbed the Voldemort he was holding and lifted him off the ground by the neck. But, when he tried to throw him to the ground, he found that his arms would only set his enemy down gently. Clearly, powers centred on evil or ill will, were of no use. Draco couldn't harm them unless he was defending himself, nor could the Voldemorts attack and, as their powers were centred on dark magic, they were at a loss for what to do.

"What is this place?" Draco asked as he walked over to Harry to help him off the ground. When Harry reached to take the offer, his hand passed completely through Draco's. Harry felt the heat of Draco's presence penetrate his body, but not his touch.

"You're cold," Draco whispered. He glanced at the other Voldemorts and then back to Harry. "It's not them; it's you. You're a ghost."

"That... that's ridiculous," said Harry.

"You're the only one that can't be touched, Harry," said Draco. His eyes grew wide. "You're... you're the one that's dead. You've already passed over." Draco paused for a moment and then knelt next to Harry and whispered, "Take me with you! Take me now, before it's too late. I don't want to go back. I want to move on."

"Draco, I'm not dead! And, if I was, I couldn't--"

"Bullshit, Potter!" yelled Draco. "You can take me, but you won't! You're such an--" Draco moved his hands to push Harry over, but his hands shot straight through Harry's body. The sensation was uncomfortable for both of them.

Dakhil cleared his throat. It was subtle, but not so subtle that Draco didn't go quiet. "I'll be happy to be your host," said the old man with surprising calm. "Ruling the world... Well, that sounds like fun, doesn't it?"

The two Voldemorts moved closer to take a better look.

"He'd old," said one.

"As a vampire he's formidable," said the other. "And he is wise with a wand."

"Yess... yess that would work nicely."

"But difficult to control."

"Not if he is willing."

"Would you let go my neck," Dakhil asked Riddle.

"No tricks?"

"No tricks, I assure you," answered Dakhil. The grip around his neck loosened and for the first time Dakhil was able to see the three pillars of evil standing together before him.

"Don't do it, Dakhil!" cried Draco. "They're filth! Because of them I've... I've--"

"You've made your choice, you snivelling child!" spat Dakhil. "Death... death is so much simpler, isn't it? Three months you studied with me and all I heard about was how powerful you were going to become and now... now when you finally have the opportunity at your fingertips, you let it pass! Wizards will be as worms beneath my feet and the world of Muggles will be sundered!"

"Yessss," said the Voldemort Harry had killed last year. "Yesss, he will do."

Dakhil turned toward the trinity of hatred and straightened the dark brown robes he was wearing. He rummaged in his pocket for something, but couldn't find it. "Damn, smoked the last one." He took in a sigh. "Well, let's get this over with."

"Dakhil, don't!" cried Harry. "You swore an oath! An oath to--"

Dakhil's hand raised, he whispered something, and Harry's voice went silent.

"Prattling prick," he muttered. The Voldemort's laughed, convinced now he was sincere. "Now then," continued Dakhil. "Just one more piece of business at hand. Which one of you will be the lead soul to whom I shall give this power?"

"I will," they all said in unison.

Dakhil chuckled. "No, seriously. There must be one soul to which the others shall give up their essence. The memories will merge, but the one will control the others." He stepped closer and narrowed his eyes. "Is that not the way of the... ancient magic? What once was sundered must now be joined to the one - Horcruxian Fusion. Dark... very dark and dangerous. It must be well planned. To whom do I give my body?"

"Me," said Riddle immediately.

"You?" snapped the wraithlike Voldemort incredulously. "Why you? It should be me."

"I made the two of you!" said Voldemort. "You're simply the parts I was willing to discard. If anyone should rule the three, it should be me!"

And so it began. A simple question began to turn into and all out brawl. While the three argued, Dakhil slipped over by Patrick, Draco and Harry.

"That should keep them going for awhile," he said with a smile. "I hope..." Harry was talking to him, but no words were coming out of his mouth. "Oh, sorry. Necolo!"

"...then why didn't..." Harry coughed. "I... I can talk."

"Your genius astounds me, Potter."

"Why can you use magic, but they can't," asked Draco.

"Simple," answered Patrick before Dakhil could. "He didn't use it to attack."

"Very good, young man," said Dakhil with a smile. "I don't believe we've spoken. You were a student of mine at Hogwarts, I believe?"

"Second year Gryffindor, Professor Barghouti. I'm Patrick... Patrick O'Riley. I've seen yeh teach the Dark Arts. I was the one that--"

"Ah yes," interrupted Dakhil. "Tragic. And you chose not to cross over? Why? Revenge?"

"No, sir. I promised Harry. We're both orphans yeh know? We swore an oath. I'd watch his back and he'd watch mine. I couldn't leave 'im alone. Not while these three still had a chance ter hurt 'im and his family."

"Impressive," said Dakhil, first looking at Patrick and then at Harry. "You do know, Mr. O'Riley, if it hadn't been for your friend Harry, Voldemort probably would never have tried to use you to kill him. If it hadn't been for Harry, Hogwarts would never have been attacked. If it hadn't been for Harry, you would have been a happy second year without a care in the world."

"No, sir," Patrick disagreed. "You're wrong. I don't know much about prophecies and destinies. All I know is that Harry was me first true wizard friend. If it hadn't been fer Harry Potter, I'd a never had the heart to speak to James Chang and Dennis Creevey and Cynthia Cormack and, well, if it hadn't been fer Harry... I'd be walkin' the halls at Hogwarts, but I'd be as dead as me parents. No, sir. Harry brought me me first smile and I wouldn' trade it fer all the could-a-beens in the world."

Dakhil nodded and smiled. "There's something to be said about that kind of conviction, Mr. O'Riley. I see the heart of the dragon in you." Dakhil reached out to shake Partick's hand and, when Patrick held his out in return, he reached up and grabbed him by the wrist. They shook in something of a roman handshake, a greeting that Harry remembered from last year when he took Mr. Darbinyan's hand in the same way. He rubbed his forearm.

The ground trembled, but the three dark wizards, locked in their power struggle, didn't notice.

"They'll figure it out, you know," said Draco with a nod toward the bickering Voldemorts. "By force most likely, if they can figure out a way. Do you have any other trick up your sleeve when that happens?"

Five more ghosts slipped up through the floor and shot toward the ceiling. Harry could hear them laugh with excitement. They were followed by another puff of white that materialized right next to Harry. It was the ghost of a woman, somewhere in her mid-forties a gash about her neck. She was radiant with joy, but was taking her time in crossing over, savouring every moment. When she saw Harry she swooped over to him, gave him a hug and kissed his cheek. He could feel her touch.

"Five hundred years... I never thought I'd see this day." She touched the gash on her neck, her eyes wandering to some distant memory. "Thank you, Mr. Potter."

She floated up and out of view, her light disappearing into the darkness above.

"New girlfriend, Potter," drawled Draco.

"I... I felt that," Harry said.

"Well of course you did; you're both ghosts."

"I'm not dead! I can't be..." Harry held out his hand to touch Draco's shoulder. It passed straight through. He repeated the experiment on Dakhil with similar results. When he turned to Patrick, he was sure that he'd feel solid matter, but when he moved to touch him, Harry's hand passed through him again. He looked at Dakhil. "What's going on?" he asked.

"Draco's right, you're dead, Harry," answered Dakhil. "Part of you, at least. And that part wants to go on - to pass through this gate and enter the next plane. I think, perhaps, it's the part that feels responsible for so many deaths - your parents, Greg Goyle, Grigor, Mrs. Weasley... so many others. They call to you, Harry, not because you're guilty, but because they love you. With so many loved ones on the other side, it is an enormous temptation.

"The rest of us... me, Draco, the Voldemorts, even Patrick here... the rest of us are drawn to return."

"I'm with Harry," contended Patrick. "If he crosses, then I'm goin'--"

"Your heart is still at Hogwarts and as loyal a compatriot as you've been to Harry, your best friend lies on his knees next to his sister near at the falls of the Forbidden Forest. Without you, Patrick, your friend James will wander the halls alone and lifeless. This, your heart will not allow."

"It's not true, Harry," said Patrick looking up at his fellow Gryffindor, but his voice lacked conviction.

Harry wasn't really sure it mattered. Patrick would live a cursed existence as a ghost and Harry wasn't really sure why Dakhil was tempting him to return when he finally had a chance at eternal peace. Yet those questions were secondary. What mattered were the three evil wizards now nearly coming to blows in the darkness.

"If I'm to cross over, Dakhil?" Harry asked. "Can I take them with me?"

"This is crazy," interjected Draco. "You're not going anywhere, Harry. I have no intentions of going back. If anyone's doing any crossing, it's me, is that clear! I'll take the bastards to Never Never Land. How do I do it Dakhil?"

"Like always," said Dakhil, "you deceive yourself, Draco. We heard him, you and I, when we were fighting in the air over the falls. I saw the flash in your eyes, the glimmer of recognition that allowed you to, if only momentarily, push away Voldemort's domination of your mind and take control yourself long enough to see Mr. Zabini calling your name. You whispered his name return, just before we were trapped into the dragon's eye. Like Patrick, your heart is at the shores of the lake above the falls, not into the ether above."

Draco began to say something, but Harry jumped in first. "Dragon's eye?" he asked excitedly. His arm was tingling and for the first time he allowed himself to believe that Singehorn was not dead. Thoughts, ideas, broken phrases ran across his mind. He knew this place. It was the same place he had fallen into when he had rescued Sirius. The eyes that had been staring at him, watching him... They weren't eyes at all; it was one eye... one watcher... "Singehorn... Singehorn's Eye..." Harry muttered aloud.

His mind thought to the Marauders' Eye, high on the tower of Hogwarts. Dimension, space, even time had no meaning there. He'd never said, but he and Ron could watch three Quidditch matches and be back to bed before two in the morning, though the next day always felt as if they hadn't slept for a week. They both had been sure Hermione would want to stop them so she could investigate.

But the Marauders' eye was always well lit. This place was dark, beyond reason. No matter, Harry knew the spell to free them. He pulled his wand declaring, "I can get us out of here!"

"Wait, Harry," implored Dakhil. "If you leave now, it's not clear where you'll end up. A gateway has been opened and your compass is not pointing in the right direction. You may pass through to the other side."

"You've been talking about hearts, Dakhil," said Harry with confidence. "Then you should know where my heart lies. Gabriella was also at the falls. I would never leave her! Never!"

"I understand, Harry," said Dakhil softly, but his face was conflicted. There was something he needed to say, but wasn't sure how best to say it. It was the first time Harry had ever seen Dakhil at a loss for words. His eyes were pained and that look began to penetrate into Harry. Fear began to build in his heart.

"What is it, Dakhil," he asked. "What aren't you telling me?"

"Gabriella's vision was not wrong," he said finally.

"I know that," said Harry. "I... I saw Tonks die tonight. She was the one wearing the white robe, not Gabriella. What's your point?"

"The vision Gabriella has had since a child, the terror that welled up from within her, the horror of facing her own demise... they were all tied together. White robes... her own death. One was not separate from the other. She did not understand this, but Soseh did. She told me."

"Told you what?"

"Gabriella's fear of death was real, Harry, because she knew she would die. Her mind interpreted the arrow and the white cloak as the cause, but it needn't be both. If she had not truly been destined for death this evening, then she would have clearly interpreted the vision of Tonks' death. Instead, she tied the two together into one. That was a mistake, but Soseh chose not to tell her. It was, she said, in fate's hands. Somehow, this evening, the white robes will have a hand in the death of your wife."

"Take it back!" Harry yelled, balling his hands in a fist, knowing that even if he wanted to strike, he couldn't, not here.

"You know as well as I - the Votary and the House of Hayk are intertwined. You bear a connubial ring; you don't need me to know her fate, Harry. Your soul knows already. What does your mind tell you?"

Harry had been so engrossed in what had been happening to him that he'd lost sight of Gabriella and he cursed himself for it. He needed only to reach out slightly before he sensed her terror. She was being attacked.

"NO!" Harry cried. The shout was enough to disrupt the arguments of the Voldemorts.

"Singehorn!" yelled Harry. "SINGEHORN! I know you're here! As Primate of the Votary, I command you - show me my wife!"

The floor began to rumble, rolling into a violent quake and tossing everyone to the ground. Suddenly a dome of fire appeared above them. It was like looking up at the ceiling of a planetarium that suddenly split open, revealing the heavens above. More properly, it was as if a giant dragon had just opened his eyes and they were inside looking out. The great darkness that had surrounded them opened up into a night time sky that was on fire, only the scene kept moving as the dragon looked around. They were peering through fire and, as the scene changed through the flames above, he could see the reflection of a large sphere ablaze with wisps of gold, red and purple upon the still surface of water. It was a bit disorienting. Like hanging vampire bats, they were looking up at the lake of the falls, but nothing seemed to be moving. Even the splash of the white water over the rocks seemed petrified.

"Look!" said Patrick as he pointed at James who was kneeling at his sister's side. He was moving, but Blaise who was still standing at the lake looking up at them, appeared frozen in time. Draco looked down on him with concern. A white cloak floated at the shore's edge as if someone was actually wearing it. The eye continued to open until they, still standing on a dark velvety platform of some sort, could see in all directions.

"Gabriella!" exclaimed Harry, moving toward the edge of their glasslike enclosure. The eye stopped moving and held its gaze upon her. "Gabriella!" he cried again. Then, turning to Dakhil, he asked, "Can't they see us? We're standing right here!"

"No. We are but fire and light in their eyes," said Dakhil shaking his head.

Harry could see Gabriella and Ron with their wands out. Then he watched in horror as events unfolded. First the glimmering white robes, Voldemort's Horcrux, dropped James... then Ron... Voldemort grabbed Jamie and when Gabriella leapt to save him she splashed into the waters and disappeared.

Voldemort held Harry's son to the waters, silvery fingers wrapping about the child's arms and legs. Did he think the waters would destroy the child? He withdrew from the lake and glided over to Cho. He held his arm out and Jamie's smiling face went blank, his body stiffened and black smoke issued forth into the robes. The child fell lifeless at Cho's side.

"No," Harry whispered. "NO!"

In a matter of seconds, everything and everyone he loved had been destroyed. "It can't be," said Harry in a hushed voice. "Singehorn! Let me go!" He pounded on the surface of the eye. Harry wasn't the only one watching as the scene played out.

"There it is!" Voldemort sneered, cold and high. He was standing next to Harry, peering out at the same scene. He pointed at the white robes. "Yes... YES... He can choose, for he is naught but honesty and light. He has no interest in our future and, if asked, he will select the most capable of leading this trinity. It is beyond him, after all, to tell a lie. Shall we go by the word of Tom Riddle? Is it agreed?"

The three swore an oath and bound it with some sort of dark evil that Harry didn't understand, nor did he care to. He was busy watching in horror as not even bubbles breached the surface where Gabriella had disappeared into the depths. His heart sank with her.

"Begin the summons," the wraithlike Voldemort demanded. "I am eager to leave this gateway."