Harry Potter and the Burden of Becoming

Harry Potter and the Burden of Becoming

Chapter 35 - The Truth Revealed

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A thick cloud passed over the morning sun and the golden light that had turned Harry's room so warm and bright began to fade. Backlit by the window, Cho's face darkened, and so too did Harry's heart. For weeks he'd attempted to tell Cho about Gabriella and had been, he felt, thwarted. Now, faced with the prospect of uninterrupted truth telling, Harry's courage faltered. Where to begin? In her bedroom on Privet Drive, Gabriella held his heart in a finely crafted wooden box. She was the one person Harry would leave the Wizarding world for and the one reason why he would never do that--not until Voldemort was vanquished forever. With the turn of a phrase, she could brighten his soul or freeze his heart. He would see her this Christmas and he would love her. Cho, standing over Harry, asked again.

"Well, Harry, who's Gabriella?"

"Nobody," Harry's voice choked. He turned to tie his trainer, but was fumbling miserably.

"Nobody?" she asked in disbelief. "You're the one bright thing that burns in her heart. That doesn't sound like nobody to me." Cho limped over and stood in front of Harry who was concentrating hard on his laces. She was wearing black leather boots that zipped on the sides.

"Those are nice boots," he began. "Where'd you..."

"I asked you a question, Harry Potter!" she snapped. Her calm demeanor had faded and her hands, still holding the pieces of paper, began to tremble. "Who is she?"

Harry gave up on the knot and sat up. He could see fear, or sadness, or anger in Cho's eyes. Perhaps he saw all that, and more. She was in pain and instinctively he stood to hold her. He reached his hand to hers, but Cho pulled away, shaking the papers in his face. Slowly, he took them from her and set them on the table by his bed. He sighed and rubbed his face.

"I tried to tell you," he said with a soft, gentle voice. "I swear... I tried." Cho looked at him, her eyes disbelieving, but her mind searching her memory. After a moment, it came to her.

"This is the one?" she whispered to the air.

"I met her over the summer in Little Whinging. We started spending time together, and became... close." The word didn't feel quite right. "More than close," he added.

"A girl... from home," Cho whispered again as if trying to divine a calculation in Arithmancy. A look of curiosity entered her eyes and she asked, "A Muggle?" Harry nodded in reply and then the thinnest hint of a smile creased her face. "Boy, was I wrong," she said to herself shaking her head. "I thought you and...." She stopped herself, and then limped over to the table and held the note to read it again. She took in a deep breath. "Well, it doesn't matter what I think, does it Harry? It's clear she loves you." For some time she scanned the letter, and finally set down the note and looked at Harry with kind eyes.

"Do you love her?" she asked with a placid voice.

"Yes," Harry replied without hesitation. Cho walked over and held her hand to his face. She hesitated, and then took the silver earring in her hand.

"This is from her, isn't it?" she whispered. Harry reached up and took her hand in his. He felt as if he was stabbing Cho in the heart with each reply and still she wore a gentle smile. Holding her hand, he nodded.

"Why couldn't you tell me, Harry? Why doesn't anybody know?" And then a thought seemed to enter Cho's mind and her manner changed ever so slightly. "Maybe... maybe something in your heart is telling you that there's no future with a Muggle. Does she know about you... about our world?"

Harry shook his head, but didn't answer. In an instant, his mind had wandered to Gabriella, to his friends, to Neville and back to his dream, and with each step there was a growing sense that something more was at play. He slipped on his glasses and looked around the room for anything else he needed to take back to Hogwarts. The room grew darker as the clouds outside thickened. There was a clap of thunder from somewhere off in the distance as a light rain began to patter against the window.

"Neville's been taken," he said quietly to himself. Cho moved closer to hear his words. "Yes, Neville's been taken," he repeated to himself again, as if by saying the phrase out loud he might understand its meaning. "Voldemort has taken Neville and wants me to try and save him. It's another trap." Taking hold of Harry's hand, Cho gently stroked his arm and shook her head.

"We all know he's missing, Harry. But... You-Know-Who? That's a bit of a stretch."

"He's the first of others," Harry answered, still speaking to himself, his voice growing more solid with each word, and his green eyes stern and steady. The confidence and the surety with which he spoke began to frighten Cho.

"But... but how?" she asked with a slight shudder. But, again, Harry made no reply. He was trying to bring the thought that burned inside to the fore. And then, Cho's earlier words echoed in his mind, and its images stepped back from Neville to Cho. Why hadn't he told her about Gabriella? His thoughts were swirling and he was having trouble holding on to any of them.

"If he knew..." Harry spoke, picking up the last of his things in the room. "If Voldemort knew that Harry Potter was in love with a Muggle from home..."

"He'd kill her," Cho answered. "Or... or worse." Cho tried to take in Harry's reason for secrecy. She knew she'd stopped his attempts to say anything, but then that was because she thought....

"Oh, Harry," she sighed and pulled him close. "I've put you in an awful spot."

"Don't be silly," Harry caught himself saying. "It's my fault for not just coming out with it. Only, Ron knows the details." And then looking into her eyes he said, "You can't tell anybody; I mean it. Nobody can know."

"Don't worry Harry," Cho answered. "I swear I'd never..." But then, suddenly, Harry's eyes widened.

"Neville!" he yelled. "Oh no... Neville!" Harry reached down, grabbed Gabriella's letter and shoved it in his pocket. "My wand! Where's my wand?" Cho carefully walked over to where Harry had slept. On the wall, at the head of the bed, was a small drawer.

"They're usually..." the drawer slid open and she slipped out Harry's wand. "There," she said holding out his wand. "Most folks like them close. Merlin, you'd think you'd know; you spend so much time over here." She poked him gently in the ribs.

"Thanks." Harry breathed deep and felt his chest spasm with pain. His mind was searching its memory of the meal he'd shared with Neville. He'd told him that he was seeing a Muggle in Little Whinging. But, what else? "I've got to tell Dumbledore. He'll know what to do. We have to go."

Their return trip to Hogwarts was the very same that Harry had taken with Cho's brother James two months earlier. A lifetime ago, Harry thought. For support, he held Cho's arm as they ascended the front steps to the castle, but the warmth and intimacy that had been their days earlier was gone. The first drops of rain were just beginning to fall. They were heavy, and each splatter on the stone steps sounded like the report of a pistol being shot into the air. The castle grounds were deserted. Odd, Harry thought, for a Sunday.

"Are they forcing the students to stay inside?" Harry asked.

"Not that I know of," Cho replied wondering the same thing.

At the front entrance, stood Professor McGonagall. She wore an unusually broad smile, but still had a look of concern on her face. She put her arm around Cho and helped her to the front doors.

"How was your check-up, Ms. Chang?" she asked. Harry realized that he hadn't asked himself.

"Fine, Professor," Cho answered. "They've confirmed that my brain cells are growing back. The same steady growth since I first regained consciousness is continuing. They don't know why, but I think I do." She cast Harry a glance that he did not detect.

"Excellent!" Professor McGonagall answered. Her attention also turned to Harry who was doing his best to be patient, but was starting to lose the battle. When she looked at Harry, he saw something in her expression he'd never seen before. She was looking through him, almost as if part of him was missing. "And you, Harry?" she spoke in a softer voice. "How are you?"

"We need to get inside, Professor," he answered pushing at the front doors. "I have to speak with..."

As the doors flew open, he was met with a blast of cheers. Hermione was the first to greet him. She wrapped him in her arms and kissed his face. Tears of joy welled up in her eyes as she held him tight.

"I hate Quidditch," she said as a flood of other students encircled Harry and began to hug him or pat him on the back.

The entrance hall had been decorated for a celebration. Against the wall was a banner that flashed in different coloured lights 'The boy that lived!' Harry searched the throng for Professor Dumbledore, but only found his classmates and one very large professor that parted the sea of students as he strode toward Harry.

"I thought... I thought fer sure yeh was dead," Hagrid said reaching down and holding Harry with his huge hands. He lifted him off the ground and pulled him close. Hagrid's grip made Harry wince in pain.

"Hagrid, you can't lose me that easily," Harry breathed, trying to smile back at the giant. The added height gave him a new perspective and as he looked around, he saw students from all four houses, even Slytherin, but he still couldn't find the Headmaster. "Where's Professor Dumbledore?" Harry asked, and Hagrid's face grew dark.

"It took a lot out of him teh bring yeh back, Harry," Hagrid replied, setting Harry back to the floor. "He's been... restin'."

"I need to..."

"Hey mate," Ron called, rubbing Harry's hair with his hand. Standing next to Hagrid and Ron, Harry suddenly felt very short. "If you think this is something, wait 'till you get to the common room. Gryffindor still hasn't celebrated its victory over Ravenclaw. It's been a pretty gloomy week around here, what with you, Neville, and all."

"Listen!" Harry called out, but the room was so filled with people talking that nobody heard. Hagrid lifted Harry up again.

"Pay attention now!" Hagrid yelled, and the room fell silent. Harry cupped his hands to his mouth.

"Thank you all so much for everything. It was your spirit that brought me back." There was a cheer. "Please stay and enjoy the food, but I need to go properly thank someone who's not here right now, the man that saved my life." Hagrid put Harry down and he started for Professor Dumbledore's office. Before he was out of the entrance hall, however, Professor McGonagall stopped him.

"Mr. Potter," she said, "I know you wish to see the Headmaster, but he really must not have any guests right now."

"I have to, Professor," Harry shot back. "I know about Neville. I know..."

"Yes, yes," Professor McGonagall interrupted. "Alastor has already given us that information. Rest assured that we are all putting it to good use." Harry shook his head madly.

"You don't understand Professor. There's more. If I could only..."

"Welcome back, Mr. Potter!" The voice of Professor Dumbledore reverberated down the corridor. It was clear, if not strong, and turned the heads of many of the students. Another cheer rang out. Professor Dumbledore walked to Harry and was himself surrounded with students. The elderly wizard breathed in deeply as if filling himself with the energy around him. He stood tall, looking every bit the part of the greatest wizard walking the face of the earth. But, Harry noted that something was not right. Nonetheless, when he spoke, he addressed the crowd in a powerful voice. "I am so proud that all the houses turned out today to show their support for a fellow student. It is a testimony to the spirit of Hogwarts. Please excuse the two of us for a moment. I promise to return Mr. Potter to you shortly." His words put fire into Professor McGonagall's eyes.

"Headmaster!" she scolded. "You really shouldn't..."

"There are many things I shouldn't do Minerva," he cut in. "Eating cream cakes after midnight, for example. This, however, is not one of them." He took Harry by the shoulder and the two walked down the corridor to his office. When they had finally cleared the crowd and noise, Harry began to speak.

"Professor, I need to..."

"Not yet, Harry. Not here."

They ascended the spiral staircase to Professor Dumbledore's office. When the door shut the two of them in, Professor Dumbledore exhaled and slumped against his desk. In the blink of an eye, his strong demeanor turned weak. He was an aged old man and looked as if he would faint to the floor. The portraits of old headmasters yelled for him to get back to bed, but he held up his hand for them to be still, and fell into his chair.

"Silence," he whispered weakly. Harry was at his side in an instant.

"Professor? What's wrong?" The old wizard looked at Harry and smiled gently. He reached out and placed his hand against Harry's face.

"Nothing is wrong, Harry. Indeed, the very fact that you are standing in my office now is proof that everything is right." His voice trailed off as he took a deep breath and closed his eyes. "There was a moment when I thought the prophecy had failed. Your destiny is strong, yet one dare not tempt fate."

"You need to rest, sir," Harry urged holding Professor Dumbledore's arm. The wizard faced Harry flashing bright blue eyes that were ageless.

"It was you who asked for me, Harry. What is it you have to say?" Seeing Dumbledore so weak and frail, Harry had let his thoughts of Neville and Gabriella slip away. But, with the wizard's question, they rushed back in a torrent.

"He has Neville," Harry began. "At a farmhouse, or an old house in a field." Dumbledore looked closely at Harry's green eyes, and saw concern and compassion.

"Alastor, told us," Professor Dumbledore replied. "He's in your dreams again?" A pang of guilt poked at Harry's innards, and he looked away.

"It's... different this time," Harry answered slowly. "I'm having visions I don't understand... but they're not from him," he insisted. "And other times, when I forget to clear my mind... he calls. I can tell when it's Voldemort... when I'm Voldemort. We... we can talk." At these words, Dumbledore sat higher in his chair.

"Harry, this is very important. What does he say?" Dumbledore leaned in waiting for the answer.

"He's taken Neville. He's torturing Neville." Harry's face was pained as he looked at Professor Dumbledore. "He wants me to save him. He's challenging me to step forward or... or he'll take others."

"He's challenging you to save your friend, and yet you do not know where to go?"

"Until today, I thought it was a trap, a lie like... like Sirius." Harry walked over and sat in front of Dumbledore's desk. "There's more, sir. Only Ron and one other know about Gabriella." Harry paused feeling that, somehow, it was his fault that Neville had been taken. "Neville knows I was dating a Muggle in Little Whinging." The conversation Harry had with Neville began to play in his head. "He knows she's tall, and has black hair." With each revelation the panic in Harry's voice increased. "He knows she's my neighbor." Harry stood. "If he knows to ask, it won't take Voldemort long to know it's the girl across the street." Dumbledore was rolling the information over in his mind slowly -- too slowly for Harry's sake.

"Harry, it was only a matter of time," Dumbledore said taking a deep breath and standing, his legs unsteady. "I have placed significant charms to protect Gabriella." Dumbledore walked over to his spinning disk and touched it with his wand. He examined the rising points of light that Harry thought represented members of the Order, each spread out across a map of the globe -- stars that only Dumbledore could identify. "She still knows nothing of your wizardry?" Harry shook his head, no. At this, Dumbledore asked, "Nor her family?" The tone in the question didn't seem right to Harry. It was as if Dumbledore expected a different answer.

"She's seen things," Harry answered. "But Muggles see magic everyday and don't really see it. I mean... well... she's smart, sir." Harry smiled thinking about how he had to kick her out of his room. "She knows I'm different."

"And her family?" Dumbledore asked again.

"Her mother's not well. And her father... her father hates me. He doesn't know me at all. He thinks I'm a Muggle juvenile delinquent."

In silence, Professor Dumbledore intently watched one particular point of light for quite some time. It was red, and seemed to disappear and reappear at different locations in the field of white stars. "She has returned to the Isle?" he whispered to himself. Shaking his head, he feebly waved his wand and the lights fell back into the spinning disk. Leaning against the table, he looked at Harry.

"Harry, there are sufficient safeguards in place to protect Gabriella," he said finally. "I need to know, however, have you made your choice?" For a moment, Harry looked up confused, but then the Headmaster's meaning became clear.

"Cho knows," he said softly. "She learned of Gabriella this morning at the hospital."

"That was not my question, Harry," Professor Dumbledore said firmly. The sixteen year-old walked over to Fawkes and began to stroke the bird's neck. The phoenix was full-grown now, and his plumage brilliant.

"The choice was made months ago, sir. It's Gabriella. It's always been Gabriella." At Harry's words, Professor Dumbledore nodded, and slowly crumpled back into his chair. His blue eyes began to twinkle and a smile spread across his face.

"Then it is time to tell her the truth, Harry." Harry looked at him in surprise. Dumbledore nodded to his questioning face. "Perhaps... over Christmas."

"I can go home?" Harry asked, remembering Dumbledore's concern that it was no longer safe.

"If it is safe enough for Gabriella, it certainly will be safe enough for you." Harry noticed that the white in his beard seemed somehow duller, and yet his eyes were as bright as ever. "Now, however, you have guests that await. What you've said has been helpful, Harry. I am unsure of your visions. They are not unusual in someone your age. As for speaking with Voldemort, it would be best to close your mind completely to his thoughts; you know this." Dumbledore stood slowly, and Harry knew it was time to go. "If Tom wants to send you messages, let him use the post." He walked Harry to the door, but it was clear it took some effort. Suddenly, Harry stopped short of the door and put his arms around Dumbledore.

"Thank you," Harry whispered holding the wizard tightly in his arms. "Thank you. I saw you bring me back to life. I was watching from above." He looked into the headmaster's eyes. "But if I knew that it would cause you this much suffering, and I had it in my power, I would never..."

"Suffering?" Dumbledore exclaimed with a hoarse laugh. "Pain?" He shook his head and held Harry tightly by the shoulders looking intently into his eyes. "The gift, as my family calls it, has been in our line for generations. It is a sharing of spirit... of energy. It is not taught and is only given willingly. What I shared with you, I may retrieve again." Professor Dumbledore smiled kindly. "At my age, everything takes longer than it used to, and there are never guarantees. Now be on your way."

Harry was uncertain as he looked at Professor Dumbledore. Still, he nodded his head and left the headmaster to rest. By the time he'd made it back to the entrance hall, most everyone had left. The sky had cleared and many were taking the opportunity to get outside to enjoy the relatively warm autumn day. Ron and Hermione were clearing away the tables, and Goyle was standing in the corner talking to Toby Vilis, one of the Slytherins that had been so proud of Malfoy for knowing who blew up the Hogwart's Express. Hermione saw Harry as he entered and quickly strode over to him.

"How is he?" she asked. And then, without waiting for an answer, "We haven't seen him all week. They were saying he had died." She was clearly not herself. A sense of worry was on her face that had begun to set like drying plaster. The uncertainty in Harry's eyes was not reassuring.

"He's..." Harry began, and his eyes wandered around the room, unable to hold Hermione's gaze. They fixed on a large suit of armor against the far wall where Ron was removing the last table. He could feel tears welling in his eyes, and he breathed hard to keep them in.

"Harry?" she asked again, now with a quaver in her own voice.

"If I hurt him," he whispered to the far wall at the banner still flashing coloured lights, "it won't be 'The boy that lived.' It will be 'The boy that killed Dumbledore.'" He turned to look at her again, and found a tear streaking down her cheek. With his hand, he gently took hers. "He says he'll get better, Hermione. We've got to believe that... don't we?" Ron waived his wand at the banner and it disappeared. Then, he made his way over to Hermione and Harry.

"Why the gloomy faces?" he said cheerfully. "There's a Gryffindor party waiting upstairs, Harry. A real party, if you know what I mean, mate." Ron slapped Harry on the shoulder, but as he got closer he sensed the something he'd missed. Ron looked at Hermione and wiped the tears off her face, and she rushed to put her arms around him. Ron held her in his and said softly, "He's getting better Hermione, you'll see. He'll be blasting Death Eaters in no time." Ron tenderly kissed her cheek in a way Harry had never seen before.

"Come on," Harry said to his two friends. "If Fred and George were here, they'd start playing violin music. Let's try to have a good time tonight. There might not be too many chances left." As they started up the stairs he asked in his best, disinterested voice, "How long did Cho stay for?" Ron slapped him on the shoulder again and Harry, still tender, winced.

"You do know, mate," Ron smiled, "she's in love with you, right?" Harry looked at Ron, and knowing Hermione was still there tried to talk in code. Which, knowing Hermione, he was sure would fail miserably.

"I... I... told her... I told her today, Ron," Harry stammered.

"Told her what?" Ron asked, dully. Harry rolled his eyes and sighed.

"I told Cho about you-know-who," Harry whispered.

"About V-Vold... You-Know-Who?" Ron's eyes scrunched in confusion.

"Or for goodness sake, Ron!" Hermione jumped in. "You're as thick as Hagrid's waist. He's saying that he told Cho today about Gabriella." Harry stopped dumbstruck. Hermione shyly smiled and took his hand. "Ron told me weeks ago, Harry. Well, a little anyway. I've been dying to ask you more, but I promised." She looked at Ron apologetically.

In the hallway to the Gryffindor common room, Harry glared at Ron whose eyes began to grow in fear that Harry might erupt in anger. But inside, there was no anger, no sense of betrayal, only a splashing of emotions against the walls of his brain. He wasn't sure what to say, or what to do. Hermione broke the momentary silence.

"Was Cho angry?" she asked. Harry's mind spun from Little Whinging back to Hogwarts with her words, but he had missed the question.

"What?" he muttered in a small voice.

"When you told Cho, did she get angry?" Hermione asked, pulling on his hand, and beckoning him toward the portrait of the Fat Lady. Harry nodded his head no.

"She knew already, I think," he whispered. "But she's upset. She just won't show it. No more tears this year, she said." Then he turned his attention to Ron who was following a few steps back. "Ron, who else? Who else have you told?" His words were sharp and his eyes intense. Ron stepped close to Harry and held him by the arm.

"Nobody, mate," he said solidly. "I swear, nobody else knows."

"Because if you..." Harry continued and looked at them both, "if either of you have told anybody, her life's at risk."

"Nobody else knows," Ron repeated.

"Nobody," Hermione echoed. Harry took a deep breath and sighed, and then his own shoulders slumped.

"Neville knew," Harry said quietly as he watched a third year Gryffindor pass by and enter the common room through the portrait of the Fat Lady. As the painting swung open, the sounds of laughter and singing poured out and down the hall. Clearly, the party had begun in earnest without them. As it swung shut and silence filled the corridor, Harry continued. "I told him about her, and now he's been taken by Voldemort." Ron's face whitened. "The first of others, he told me."

This time, even Hermione didn't question his assertion. Somehow she knew, they all knew, that Neville was in the hands of He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named. In silence, the three looked at each other knowing the other's thoughts. They would do everything they could to get Neville back. There was a grim look of determination on all their faces as they pondered their next move. The portrait swung open again, and Ginny peeked through the opening.

"They said you guys were out here!" she called smiling. "Come on Harry... you too Ron. Colin wants to get a photograph of the team!" Harry hoisted a smile onto his face.

"On our way Ginny!" he called down the hall. As he started for the open portrait, Hermione touched his arm and he turned.

"You're not alone in this Harry," she said softly. "You never have been." A burst of laughter rang down the corridor. Harry looked at his two best friends and smiled.

"I know Hermione, I know. Now, let's let Neville know the same thing."