Harry Potter and the Burden of Becoming

Harry Potter and the Burden of Becoming

Chapter 42 - Out of Love, True Power

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The sound of merriment filled the Gryffindor common room as Harry and his friends made their way back from the dance. Harry had just told them the story of how he'd somehow made a chocolate-mint ice-cream cone attack Malcolm Smelt at the pool last summer and Dean couldn't help but double over with laughter.

Harry had spent much of the dance talking to people who were, instead of calling him a madman, encouraging him to fight on. Just days earlier, Harry nearly left Hogwarts ignorant of the depth of support he had from both his friends and the students, like Patrick, who he barely knew at all. But more importantly, the past two hours spent talking and laughing at the dance had cleared the air between Harry and his dorm mates. Discovering that Harry had a girlfriend in Little Whinging, Dean let go of his jealously of Harry, and Ron apologized to Dean for being an arse all school year. It wasn't long before Dean, Harry and Ron began discussing their plans for Dean's Christmas visit to Grimmauld Place. The plans were getting so complex and time consuming that Ginny was wondering if Dean would have any time for her.

"I think I liked it better when you three weren't talking to each other," she whispered in Harry's ear at the dance. "I'm not sure I want to share Dean when he visits."

Harry smiled as he looked across the sea of students. He began to see glimmers of Dumbledore's dream for Hogwarts. Students from different houses who had come to know each other during DA meetings were mixing and mingling. He was most surprised seeing students from Ravenclaw and Slytherin dancing with each other. Patrick found James Chang by the snack buffet and the two spent most of their time with two first year girls from Hufflepuff. "Interesting," thought Harry. "If it hadn't been for Patrick...."

Back in the common room, the fifth years seemed to cluster about the fireplace. Even though they were all exhausted, nobody wanted to go to sleep. Finally, Goyle announced he was heading upstairs. He had taken a couple steps up to the boys' dorm when Parvati ran over and whispered something in his ear. They then hugged and she kissed his cheek. Nobody said a word when she returned to stand at the mantelpiece.

"He's quite nice you know," she said, trying to justify her attraction. "I mean... for a Slytherin."

"Slytherin has nothing to do with it, Parvati," Harry said. "He's just plain Greg Goyle and you'd be hard pressed to find a better bloke in Hogwarts." A grand smile spread across Parvati's face as those gathered around the fireplace nodded their assent. Harry yawned, blinking blankly at the fire. Finally, shaking the cobwebs from his mind, he announced, "I'm off to bed too. Goodnight."

When Harry got upstairs he found Goyle already in bed and, to Harry's surprise, reading. Harry undressed and sat at the side of his own bed. "I thought you were tired," he said, his mind cluttered and groggy.

"I saw Flitwick this evening, and Ron was right," Goyle answered over his book. "I can retest for Charms after the holiday."

"That's excellent, Greg!"

"Don't tell anybody. Okay, Harry? I don't need the pressure if this falls through. And anybody includes Ron."

"No problem," said Harry smiling back. He looked up to see Goyle looking, not at him, but past him over his shoulder. "What?" he asked, turning to see what Goyle was looking at. He had tossed his shirt on his desk where the dragonhead sat next to a burning candle. Goyle looked down at his text and then back up at the desk. "What is it Goyle?" Harry asked again.

"The ball... it's cinnabar, right?" he asked looking back at his text.

"I don't know," Harry answered. "You're the one that told me it might be a baby Bludger, or something."

"What about the stone of life?" Goyle asked. Harry just looked at him blankly. He was far too tired for textbook conversations. He sighed, shook his head and put his head to pillow.

"Goodnight, Greg," he answered blearily, exhausted. But Goyle was undaunted, and he began to read out loud, albeit slowly.

"Extremely rare, only a few have been found east of the Caucassus Mountains. Always small and highly polished, they are made of cinnabar or serpentine. The largest known vivificus stone was The Heart of Asha. Last seen in the Great Purge, it was used by Pravus to restore himself. Its theft from the Iscadian vault is deemed, by some, to be the turning point of the war." Goyle looked up from his book and looked into the skeptical eyes of his dorm mate. "Harry, there's a painting," he said tapping the pages. Rolling his eyes toward the ceiling and exhaling a large huff, Harry reluctantly slid out of bed to look at the picture. The painting was of a spherical red stone supported by three sharp silver spikes thrusting upward from an ornate gold stand.

"What? That thing?" Harry sneered. "For all I can tell, that could be a tiny marble or a bowling ball." Just then, a hand reached down and grabbed the object putting its size into perspective. A black onyx ring on one finger, the hand was sickeningly translucent. "Pravus," Harry thought. A spike skewered one of the sickly fingers and light flashed from the ball between the finger's companions until the scene went dazzling white and then returned to what Harry first saw. He walked over to his desk and picked up the stone from the dragonhead. Holding it next to the page as Goyle held open the text, the two watched the scene repeat.

"It's the same," Goyle whispered.

"No it's not," Harry said dismissively. "That... that stone there... it's... it's too red. That's what it is... too red." Goyle shut the text and levitated it over to his desk.

"Uh huh. Sure," he said with a tinge of sarcasm, extinguishing the candles above his bed leaving only the candle on Harry's desk flickering. "Goodnight."

"I mean," Harry said pacing the floor with the stone in his hands. "My cousin gave me this stone. That's all it is... a polished chunk of rock!" But the book's painting was as vivid as any in Hogwarts and it clearly showed the same polished surface, the same dark grain and glint of ember. And perhaps more importantly, the two stones were identical in size. "Rubbish!" Harry hissed at himself. "Damn Ron for trying to get you into Charms and damn you for listening! You've got me all worked up over nothing. It's just a rock!" He dropped it into the teeth of the dragonhead and threw himself onto his bed. "I'm going to sleep."

"I said goodnight already," answered Goyle grinning. Except for Harry tossing from one side of the bed to the other, there was a long period of silence in their dorm. From downstairs, there was an occasional burst of laughter, faint and distant. The wind was picking up outside and it began to whistle against the windows. Finally, Harry could bear it no more.

"What's a vivificus stone?" he asked sheepishly. Goyle tried not to laugh.

"You're the one in the N.E.W.T. not me," Goyle chided. Harry sat upright and scowled. Menacingly he pointed his right hand at Goyle, narrowed his eyes, and presented the best evil grin he could muster. "Okay, okay," Goyle said holding his hands in the air. "No need to get all uppity. It's the 'life stone', Harry. They say you can bring people back from death, near death, anyway. In History, Professor Binns has been talking about how Pravus used it to stave off the many killing curses he endured."

"But how do they work?" Harry asked, looking back at the stone on his desk.

"That's probably why you don't remember studying about them. It's one of the great mysteries, Harry. Nobody knows." Goyle shrugged his shoulders. "I guess you're right, eh? If you don't know how it works, it is just a rock." Harry looked hard at the stone considering the possibilities and then the pieces of the puzzle that had been floating in his mind began to come together.

"Such a simple spell," he whispered, echoing Dumbledore's words. "But I've yet to realize its full potential." He cast a glance at the staircase leading down to the common room. They were still chatting and laughing.

"Watch the door," he whispered to Goyle as he stood back up and walked over to his desk. Goyle got out of bed and guarded the door as Harry slid the dragonhead and stone to the edge of his desk. He pulled his wand and pointed it at the ball of cinnabar, but then lowered his hand. "This is stupid. Gabriella will kill me if I tell her I melted..." Harry paused, then under his breath he whispered, "Out of bravery, fire." He raised his wand back to the stone, touching it with the wand's holly tip. "And, no, Hermione," he whispered to the air, his lips pressed tight against his teeth, "I haven't thought this through." Harry focused all his being to the center of the cinnabar.

"Incendio!" he called out. A blast of fire erupted, pushing him a step backward, but the connection had been made. Instead of spreading out across the table, the flames seemed to be sucked into the ball. A great whirlwind of flame plummeted into the tiny red ball. When the flames stopped, the ball glowed bright, casting a fiery orange brilliance across the entire room. Even Goyle had to shield his eyes. Then, Harry reached out his hand to grab it.

"Stop!" Goyle yelled. "You'll burn yourself!" But Harry's mind was transfixed on the glowing orb before him and the memory of the textbook painting he'd just seen.

"Out of wisdom, blood," he whispered. He clutched the ball, his mind trying to adjust to the fact that it felt like grabbing a piece of ice. With the stone still in the dragonhead, he turned it, slicing his fingers on the sharp teeth holding it in place. Blood flowed freely from his hand, but was absorbed by the ball like a thirsty sponge. In that instant, all went white, as Harry found himself being pulled, as if by Portkey, into the ball. He tried to let out a scream, but all was silent. Indeed, there was no sound, no motion, no vision, no sensation of any kind. He was in a vast expanse of whiteness... a blank canvass waiting for his next command.

"Like Pravus, can I cure myself?" Harry's thoughts seemed to radiate from deep within his mind, and somehow he knew the answer was yes. "I can remove the curse... remove the madness." For a moment his thoughts bent on the cure and the white began to mix with a swirl of black in his mind.

"Stop!" his mind rang out. "Out of love, true power." The swirling stopped and the mixing black began to fade to gray and then to whiteness. "Where's the love in curing oneself?" his thoughts called out to the open nothingness. For a long time, Harry's mind turned the options that lay before it. Finally, his thoughts struck gold.

"Dumbledore!" he breathed, and in that instant he brought to bear his mind, his body, his soul to the healing of the Headmaster. Colours exploded in the whiteness and coalesced before Harry into a vision of the great wizard prone in his bed. It was a snapshot, frozen in time. The wizard was pale and gaunt, a mere skeleton of himself. The moment stood there before Harry's eyes and somehow he knew he was being asked to continue. "Yes," his mind called out. "YES!"

There was an explosion of light ripping from Harry's very core and the colours of the snapshot before him came to life, swirling with vivid green flames into the chest of Dumbledore. The old wizard's face awoke with astonishment and in that flash of brilliance his eyes and his mind met with Harry's, and the look of astonishment became one of knowing gratitude. A smile passed across his face, but then the image began to race away, disappearing down a tunnel of darkness. There was a whoosh, as if a great wind extinguished a fire, and all went black.

"Harry!" Goyle called out. For a moment, Harry didn't know where he was. He opened his eyes to see Goyle kneeling at his side. Harry found himself on his back, underneath his desk, the red stone still clutched tightly in his hand. A bit dizzy, he sat up and looked down as he opened his hand. There was no blood, no cut, no mark of any kind.

"What happened?" he asked groggily. "How long have I been out?" He once again heard the distant laughter from the common room below.

"Out?" Goyle asked. "You touched the stone and just fell to the floor. What's that... three seconds?"

"That's not possible," Harry answered back, suddenly realizing he was very tired. Goyle helped him back to his bed. "I was in there for at least twenty minutes, maybe an hour."

"In where?" Goyle asked, perplexed.

"In the... the..." A wave of exhaustion broke over Harry, and he faded to sleep.

Harry woke to a flurry of activity in the dormitory. The sun blazed through the window as bags were zipping and trunks slamming. Everyone was getting ready to leave for the holiday.

"Finally," Dean said with a smile tossing a large duffle onto his bed. "Hey, Ron, he's awake!" Harry looked over to Ron who was trying to stuff another pair of socks into his already overfilled bag.

"You know," said Harry, scratching his head and wondering what Ron was doing, "you are going home and you do have clothes there." Ron turned around almost trying to use his body to hide the bag behind him.

"Yeah, well, I, er... you never know what you're going to need to wear, right?" He tossed his jacket over the bag and walked over to Harry, who was now sitting up rubbing his face. "Rough day, yesterday. Good to see you got some sleep." Harry thought back to the evening before. Was it all a dream? He looked over to Goyle's bed, but everything had been cleared out. Ron looked over too.

"He's gone," Ron said, a bit of sadness tingeing his words. "Told us to look out after you, though. What'd he say Dean?" Dean zipped his bag and set it on his bed.

"Let's see," Dean began, flopping down on his own bed. "'Harry had a bit of a fall last night. Make sure he wakes up himself in the morning.' It's a bit mysterious if you ask me, but Goyle always was a little melodramatic, don't you think?" Ron nodded in agreement as Harry stood.

"Well, I'm me," Harry said. "And my stomach is telling me it's time for breakfast. I'll take a quick shower and be back. Can you two wait?" In unison, both Dean and Ron rolled their eyes with impatience, but then nodded their heads.

"Sure," they answered reluctantly. "Ten minutes! That's it!"

When the three finally made it to the Great Hall, they found it buzzing with conversation. Daily Prophets were spread everywhere and everyone was pointing and talking with wild expressions.

"Something's happened," Ron whispered as they stepped in. They were making their way over to the Gryffindor table when Hermione looked up from her paper. There was a throng of students looking over her shoulder, but when she saw Harry and Ron, she folded the paper, pushed the crowd aside and walked over to them.

"She caught two," Hermione said above the din. "Tonks caught two." She grabbed Harry by the arm, pulling him toward the large entrance doors of the Great Hall. Ron followed as Dean chose instead to sit down next to Ginny to get the news.

"Can't we eat first?" Ron called out, but Hermione ignored him, briskly walking out of the Great Hall and into the corridor where they could have more privacy. "I've read it three times, but something's bothering me," she said opening the paper and displaying the front-page news.

Two key Death Eaters were apprehended last night during a midnight raid in a small farmhouse outside of Newcastle. The raid was led by Nymphadora Tonks, a junior Auror at the Ministry of Magic, currently on leave to teach at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Several Ministry members descended on the farmhouse shortly after midnight, based on a tip received by Auror Tonks earlier in the week. None were hurt in the skillful attack that captured Andrew Wythe and Terrence Pendleton, active recruiters for the ever-growing numbers of Death Eaters.

"We've been tracking these two down for some time now," Auror Tonks said. "The wizards of Britain can rest easier now that the two are headed to Azkaban."

When asked about any information concerning the location of He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named, or the missing Hogwarts students, Auror Tonks had no comment.

"It goes on," Hermione said, but that's the gist of it. "I don't know what it is, but--"

"Wythe & Pendleton?" Harry asked, taking the paper from Hermione's hands. Reading a few lines he spoke under his breath. "He said they'd be punished." He looked out across the empty corridor. "They tried to serve him, and he's sent them to Azkaban. If Draco doesn't..."

"What are you talking about, Harry?" Ron asked.

"Voldemort!" Harry snapped making the redhead cringe. "Don't you remember?" Harrys asked, recalling the many time the three had examined his connections with the Dark Lord. "These were the two that had Luna." Harry searched his memory. "They brought her to me... him, I mean. He said they'd pay."

"I remember," said Hermione softly. "But why would he give them up willingly?" she asked.

"I don't know, Hermione," Harry answered in frustration. "They were afraid of him; I think he takes some sick pleasure in punishing people for no real reason. How... why anyone would follow such a madman..." The word reverberated in Harry's mind like a peal of thunder. He staggered backward and crumpled against the wall. Hermione knelt down and took his shoulder.

"You'll be fine, Harry," she said with a gentle voice. "We'll find a way to--"

Suddenly the Great Hall erupted into cheers. The sound, even out in the corridor, was deafening. The three friends walked to the entrance to see Tonks striding in to sit at the head table. Dressed in dark purple robes, she was exuberant. There was a radiance that Harry had never really seen before. She stood at an empty chair next to Remus, waved just briefly, and sat down. The clapping quieted and a handful of students went up to the head table to shake her hand.

"Let's eat," Ron said emphatically. "I'm starving."

"Don't you want to welcome her back?" Hermione asked. Ron looked at the long line of students and then at the food on the table and chose to sit down at an open space near a large plate of sausages. Hermione sighed. "Well, I guess that answers that."

Halfway through breakfast, Professor McGonagall stood up from her chair and addressed the students gathered. "I needn't remind you that the Hogwarts Express departs Hogsmeade at ten o'clock. The carriages will leave the school at nine-thirty. Please have all your belongings with you and be ready to go by then." She paused looking at the empty chair beside her and bit her lip. "I am sure Professor Dumbledore would wish you all well on your travels. I warn you, however, that you must be exceptionally careful while away from the school."

"The Headmaster would agree, Professor McGonagall," a familiar voice resonated from the entrance to the Great Hall. "And be sure to take plenty of socks!" All eyes swung toward the front doors. There was a collective gasp as all saw Professor Dumbledore standing in the archway. Even Professor McGonagall gave out a shudder wondering if, perhaps, she was watching a ghost. With steady steps, and a strong deliberate stride, Professor Dumbledore walked between the Hufflepuff and Ravenclaw tables on his way to the front of the Great Hall. He smiled and patted students on the way. As students began to realize that this was no vision, no ghost, but the man himself smiles spread like wildfire across the room. One by one they began to pound the tables in a rhythmic beat. Soon his name was attached to the rhythm.

"Dum-ble-dore! Dum-ble-dore! Dum-ble-dore!"

Professor McGonagall was alabaster white as the Headmaster turned the corner of the head table. As he made the turn, he took his first glance over at the Gryffindor students where Harry now stood cheering his name with the others. There he found a look of joy on Harry's face that had not been present all year. The old wizard smiled broadly and winked at Harry. When he came to stand before Professor McGonagall she was shaking and, unable to withhold her emotions, wrapped her arms around him in a grand hug. The school exploded with deafening cheers. Only a handful of Slytherins sat with their arms crossed. One of them was Draco Malfoy, but Greg Goyle standing at his left continued to howl. Dumbledore shook hands with a few of the other professors and then raised his hands to try to quiet the school down. It was several minutes before he could gain control and even he was taken aback by the outpouring of emotion.

"It has been over a month since I last joined you for breakfast. Forgive me, today, for being a bit late. The staff tells me that the fried toast is particularly good this morning, but I thought perhaps something a bit more festive." Dumbledore clapped his hands and instantly the room was transformed into a holiday postcard. Christmas décor spanned the walls and ceiling, while the tables began to fill with candy, lots of candy. "The peppermint sticks are a personal favorite of mine, although I'm not sure how they taste with sausage."

Without saying another word, Professor Dumbledore sat down next to Professor McGonagall and unwrapped a large peppermint stick. Again, the room cheered. The attention that had minutes earlier been focused on Professor Tonks was now completely transferred to the Headmaster.

"You can quit squeezing my leg now, Hermione," Ron called out in agony.

"Oh, I'm sorry, Ron," Hermione squealed. "I... I can't believe it! I just can't believe it! They said he... Oh, it's a miracle!"

"I thought you said he was getting better, Hermione," Ron answered back rubbing his leg. "What's the surprise?" At this, Hermione's eyes began to find something else to look at, and Harry realized he wasn't the only one she was hiding something from.

"He was almost dead, wasn't he?" Harry asked. The words were direct and to Harry's surprise Hermione gave a direct answer.

"Yes," she replied, anticipating a rebuke that never came. "Professor McGonagall didn't think he'd see Christmas." With this success, Harry considered a follow-up question but remembered that it was he who asked not to be told.

"Well, he's better now," said Harry, his heart lighter than it had been since the summer with Gabriella. He wasn't about to tell anybody about last night. He'd sound like a conceited slob. No, that would be his and Goyle's secret, at least until he was sure it wasn't all a dream. Harry looked over at the Slytherin table to find Malfoy talking heatedly with Pansy Parkinson, but Goyle looking over his way. The Slytherin wore a broad smile then turned to scoop up some more eggs.

Harry, Ron and Hermione finished breakfast and began the trek back up the Gryffindor tower. Many were already making their way down the moving staircases to the carriages waiting in front of the castle. The three had just climbed to the top of the second staircase and were waiting for it to slide into place, when a voice called from the landing on the far side.

"Wotcher, Harry!" It was Tonks, the colour of her hair lighter than it had been downstairs. She called to Hermione and Ron, "Do you two mind if I speak with him for a moment? Just a few pointers before I'm off for the holiday."

"Actually, Professor Tonks," said Hermione, "we're running pretty late. Maybe later you could..."

"It's okay," interrupted Harry. "I've got a couple minutes." Hermione gave Harry a look that held more irritation than seemed reasonable. "Only a minute," Harry answered her expression. Hermione hesitated, clearly wanting to say something. She bit her lip, and then she and Ron stepped off the staircase and Harry rode it as it swung around toward the landing where Tonks was waiting. His friends continued to ascend to Gryffindor tower as Harry began to walk down the empty corridor toward Tonks' classroom.

"How are you?" he asked. "We were starting to worry." Tonks smiled and put her arm around Harry.

"It's good to see you too!" she said. "I guess I'm more an Auror than a Professor. I knew we had them on the run and I couldn't let go -- not when we were so close." She stopped and turned Harry toward her looking him up and down. "And, how are you? Have you made any more contacts with You-Know-Who?" Surprised by the sudden question, Harry shook his head.

"I've tried to concentrate on school. It's been a bit tough with both you and Snape gone."

"Professor Snape," she said with a smile. "He's fine, Harry. I saw him not two days ago, doing what he does best." It was odd, Harry thought. Her eyes seemed to look through him rather than at him. An eerie feeling crawled up his spine, as she took a few paces to his left, staring at him all the while. "It's not truly appropriate for Professors to give their students any gifts of consequence during the school year. But, I've reviewed the rules and believe this would be appropriate." She handed Harry a small red package with a green bow. Harry began to open it, but Tonks stopped him. "No. Not here. At Christmas Harry," she said quietly. "Wait until Christmas."

"Er, thanks, Tonks. Sorry, but I didn't..."

"Don't worry about it," she said. There was an awkward moment of silence.

"Well, I better get going," said Harry, turning toward the door. "They'll be leaving soon." Tonks grabbed his arm.

"Wait," she said, still smiling -- a bit too broadly, Harry thought. "I just wanted to know if you'll be staying here for the holiday. Or are you heading off to Grimmauld Place? Maybe Privet Drive and Gabriella?"

"I know I've never been home for the holidays before, but..." He looked back down the empty corridor. It looked, somehow, darker. Something didn't feel right, but Harry didn't know why. "Really, Tonks, I need to go."

"Sure thing, Harry," she said, continuing to smile broadly. "I'll check with Hermione. You'll let her know won't you?" Harry started back to the staircases leaving Tonks standing in the corridor alone.

"Hermione knows everything, Tonks!" he called back, and started jogging to catch up with his companions.

While they packed, he mentioned his conversation with Tonks to Ron and Hermione. Hermione furled her brow, but then a sly smile crossed her face.

"I'll give Tonks the information she needs," said Hermione with satisfaction.

Harry was oblivious to anything she said. The thought of returning to Little Whinging quickened his pulse. What would happen while he was there? Even Harry was unclear. There was a lot to talk about with Gabriella. Zipping his travel case, his innards lurched at the prospect of telling her the truth, wondering what her reaction might be. The feeling stayed with him as the three friends loaded up their gear in one of the Threstral driven carriages. With his hand, Ron stroked the flank of one of the creatures he couldn't see.

"I can't believe I rode one of these things to London," he whispered. "I hope it's a long time before I can ever see one," he said grimly. Just then Hagrid called out, instructing all the students to hop in the carriages. He stepped over to Harry and ruffled his hair.

"You take care, now, eh?" he said with a hint of concern. "I'll be thinking of yeh. Yer Christmas present is already waitin' fer yeh when yeh get there. I'm not much at wrappin' presents and all, but it's got a nice bow." He smiled and hugged Harry. "Be careful, and be happy."

When they arrived at the train station there was, once again, an awkward moment as Ron and Hermione had to go to the prefect's carriage.

"Go on," Harry said, looking up and down the length of the train. "Catch up with me when you can." Hermione and Ron jumped onto the train, but Harry hesitated. Something felt wrong, but he wasn't sure why. His left thumb made its way to his right forearm and rubbed it gently, a habit that he'd found hard to break, especially lately. Somehow he felt as if he was being watched.

"Worried, Potter?" a voice drawled from behind him. Harry spun to see Malfoy flanked by Crabbe and Goyle. The three approached Harry, each carrying their bags over their shoulders. "Here Crabbe," Malfoy ordered. "Take my bag in... and make sure I have a seat by the window." Crabbe nodded taking Malfoy's pack, but Goyle remained. Malfoy just rolled his eyes. "Oh, please, Goyle," the blonde sneered. "Don't tell me -- you think you need to protect me from Potter. Go on with Crabbe, I'll follow in a minute." Goyle stood firm and Malfoy sighed. "You think I'm going to attack, Potter?" An evil grin crossed Malfoy's face as he glanced about, noting the absence of any professors in the immediate vicinity. "Well, now that you mention it... it's not such a bad idea."

"Go on Greg," said Harry, drawing his wand. "I think Malfoy here is ready to give me an apology."

"You wish," Malfoy sneered. Nonetheless, Goyle climbed the steps of the carriage and Harry walked with Malfoy toward the front of the train. "I knew Gryffindor would ruin him, Potter," Malfoy said rolling his eyes, "but I didn't realize how much. Merlin, Parvati Patil? How could you let it happen?" Harry just laughed.

"It's love, Draco," Harry said as the glint in his eyes turned to a glare.

"And you think I don't know what it means to love, right Harry?" Malfoy asked, his words dripping with sarcasm. "Well... maybe you're right. But if you're such an expert at it, Harry, tell me... what is love?" For a moment, Harry actually pondered the question as the last students mounted the train.

"An unconditional commitment for the betterment of others. It means sacrifice, Draco, more sacrifice than you'd ever be capable of giving of yourself."

"Very... Ministerial of you, Harry. At least, that's how it reads in the Daily Prophet. But all life's real action takes place in the dark corners of this world, Harry -- the exchange of Galleons for favors. Wizards all talk of self-sacrifice and then they all line their pockets with gold when no one's looking."

"Look, you didn't bring me out here to--"

"The two Death Eaters were caught near Newcastle," Malfoy cut in with a lowered voice. "Newcastle's just south of here."

"I know where Newcastle is, Draco."

"They've been waiting for you to come to him, Harry. The Death Eaters haven't been anywhere near Hogwarts. Those two were meant to be caught, or..." Malfoy dropped his voice even lower, "they were spies; an advanced guard scouting a way to come and take you, Harry. Do you understand?"

"But, how do you--"

"Gentlemen." They both turned to find Professor Dumbledore, but a few paces behind them.

"Sir," they said in unison surprised by the sight.

"Mr. Malfoy, I was wondering if I might have a word with Mr. Potter."

"Yes, sir," Malfoy said, "Merry Christmas, sir." Harry heard the emphasis on the word 'Christmas', but had no idea what it meant.

"Merry Christmas, Mr. Malfoy," Dumbledore said kindly as Malfoy walked back to the train's entrance. "Extraordinary, Harry," he whispered watching Malfoy climb the stairs.

"Really, sir, we were just--" Harry began, but Dumbledore raised his hand to stop him.

The whistle blew on the train announcing last call. Dumbledore walked Harry back to the train's entrance. The old wizard began a story, as he put it, "about a truly remarkable Muggle."

"When Michelangelo Buonarroti painted the Sistine Chapel, he built a scaffold that took him up to the ceiling. He climbed to the top and would paint one small square at a time. Finishing one patch of paint, he would climb down, move the scaffolding and begin again. If you were to climb to the top with him, you'd look at his work and say 'My you've painted a wonderful ear,' or admire perhaps the mixture of colour in and eye, but no more. Not until you returned to the floor and saw the complete fresco would you truly understand his genius. Not until you took on the entire ceiling would you understand the breadth of what he had accomplished." They paused at the steps into the train. "You're too close, I think, to see your own work, Harry. When I fell ill, Cho Chang was struggling to regain her strength. With your help she walks unassisted onto the very train that nearly cost her her life. Her brother James would have killed Mr. Malfoy were it not for you, and yet today I see James playing wizard chess with a first year from Slytherin; and now Draco exchanging pleasantries with you. Mr. Goyle was well on his way to dropping out of school, a path that would have surely meant his destruction. And yet, I hear he'll be testing for the Charms N.E.W.T. with high expectations of passing. Small miracles in their own right, Harry. But the mural you're creating is quite astounding." There was a slight pause. "Please come back and finish it."

"If I can Professor," Harry said solemnly. "Depending on my... mental state and all." Professor Dumbledore took Harry by the arm and looked at him closely.

"As you might imagine, I've only just learned of this new difficulty, Harry. Don't worry. You'll be fine, son. I promise you that." His blue eyes were fixed, strong and earnest. In those eyes, Harry saw confidence and his anxiety softened. The train started to pull away and Harry jumped on the first step. "Harry!" the wizard called him back. Harry turned to see what Dumbledore wanted. "Thank you." The whistle blew and the train began to puff its way forward. Closing the glass door, Harry watched as Dumbledore, and then the town of Hogsmeade faded from sight.

Suddenly two hands gently wrapped around Harry's eyes. "Come on Cho, I think I'd know..." but then a familiar scent drifted to fill his nostrils. His heart began to race as perspiration instantly flashed across his whole body. Reaching for the hands he spun around. "Gabriella!"