Harry Potter and the Burden of Becoming

Harry Potter and the Burden of Becoming

Chapter 51 - The Truth Revealed

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With the help of Gabriella, Harry wore a two-piece black pinstripe suit and polished black shoes. Unfortunately his hair, which started out the morning better than normal, was now as disheveled as ever. The manager at Marley's Men's Shop had told him that a black handkerchief was a poor idea, but Harry thinking it appropriate for a funeral didn't listen. Now, he understood why it was a poor idea. It was strange being fitted for a Muggle suit Harry hoped he'd only wear once. It reminded him of his fitting with Madame Malkin and, when he was being pinned, his mind turned to Malfoy. There was Harry, dealing with the results of Voldemort's Death Eaters, and somewhere Draco was with his father living among them. His thoughts contorted, wondering why he hadn't let Lucius die. Now, taking back his tear stained black handkerchief from Gabriella as they returned home from Emma's funeral, he felt he'd made the wrong decision. Lucius Malfoy alive was much worse than Lucius Malfoy dead, and Harry was beginning to strongly reconsider if Draco had betrayed him.

"Harry," Gabriella sniffed, "are you alright?" Her eyes were red and swollen from her endless tears over the last few days, and yet she was asking how he was. His heart warmed and he held her hand.

"Me?" he whispered, as he started to turn down Privet Drive, the setting sun glaring in his eyes. Grigor's car was gone, so he pulled into the driveway. He had not said anything to Gabriella about his conversation with her father. Still, it had been haunting him ever since. More than once she had asked him why he was rubbing his right forearm, and more than once he simply shrugged his shoulders pulling his left hand away. He had wanted to wait until Emma's funeral. And now it was over.

They had paid tribute to a memory, a photograph. There was no Emma to say goodbye to. Her body had been incinerated in the fire and all that remained were the collective thoughts of the many friends she left behind. It was the first time that Harry had met Emma's parents. They were, understandably, walking zombies throughout the ceremony. Still, they were kind, older than he had imagined, and a bit overwhelmed by the number in attendance. Half of Little Whinging turned out to pay tribute to Emma's memory, some just because they'd read about her death in the local paper. Her parents shied away from all the attention, but her father delivered an eloquent eulogy, and Duncan mustered up the courage to say a few words. Although, the way Mr. Slate went on about his shy and reserved daughter, Harry wondered if they were talking about the same girl. When Duncan placed his engagement ring on the table in front of her photograph, there wasn't a dry eye in the church, except for Harry. He was numb, unable to feel much of anything.

Tonight, Todd was staying with Duncan, as he had for the last few nights. Harry was surprised when Grigor contacted one of his colleagues at the university to tell him of Duncan's suicide attempt. Dr. Phellman, a psychiatrist, came to Duncan's house and set up a series of counseling sessions with him. Todd had sworn to Gabriella that he would ensure Duncan made every appointment. After having watched Duncan nearly kill himself, Harry was sure that Duncan needed more help than any of his friends could give on their own. He was struggling to come to grips with Grigor's act of kindness, and the lurching feeling in his stomach that made Harry think his neighbor was a Death Eater.

Harry turned the ignition off and flashed Gabriella a smile. "I'm fine," he answered, impassively. He began to open the door when she grabbed his arm.

"No, you're not, Harry," she said firmly. He didn't want to look at her, he couldn't. He knew his eyes would expose his soul, and there were too many things he was holding back. "Look at me!" Against his better judgment, he turned to look into her black eyes.

"I'm... fine," he muttered weakly.

"I know you cared for Emma, Harry, and I know your heart; and yet... not a tear? Not this whole time? One of your dearest friends lost his fiancé, your girlfriend lost her closest friend, and you, the most sensitive boy I've ever met..." She stopped, tears beginning to well in her eyes, pain flashing that was deeper than Harry could fathom. He handed her his handkerchief and again she wiped her face and blew her nose, handing the worn black cloth back to Harry. "I'm sorry; I'm being stupid."

"No!" Harry instantly shot back. "Don't ever say that. Don't ever think that." He held her left hand in both of his. "In life, you were her truest friend, and now that she's gone you continue to watch after all those she's touched. I wish I had half your strength." He kissed her hand, and lost himself in the pools of black, glistening back at him. It was time she knew. "I... I killed her, Gabriella. As sure as you're sitting next to me right now, Harry Potter is responsible for Emma Slate's death."

"Now you're sounding like Duncan," she said dismissively. But Harry held her gaze with his own green eyes. Her disbelief gave way to doubt... gave way to the possibility... and the blood began to drain from her face. Harry wanted to tell her everything. He needed to tell her everything, but not here, not like this.

"Come on," he breathed, "it's time you knew." They both stepped out of the car and started for the Dursleys'. Then Harry remembered the living room, and knew Gabriella would be mad about it. "Er, how about your place?" She nodded, and when they entered the Darbinyan entry, they found Soseh asleep on the couch in the living room. Gabriella quietly beckoned Harry up to her room.

It was the first time he'd ever climbed the stairs and his heart quickened a bit in anticipation. He wasn't sure what to expect, but when she opened the door, he knew it was perfect. Through the window behind an impressive telescope, Harry could see his own room across the street. He realized that the Dursleys could see this way too, and he wondered how often during the summer his uncle spied on the Darbinyans' from his own bedroom. Her bed was a large four-poster that reminded him of the beds at Hogwarts, but the colors were a soft pink and a royal purple. There was a desk with a computer, quills next to standard paper, and candles everywhere. About the walls were shelves and shelves of books, and in the corner a large kick-bag hung from the ceiling for punching and kicking. Harry walked over to it and half-heartedly gave it a punch. He hurt his hand and tried not to show it, but Gabriella noticed and snickered. She lit three candles, and they sat arm in arm on the side of her bed.

"When I start," he whispered, "please, let me finish. If you stop me, I don't know if I'll be able to start again." Gabriella nodded.

Harry took in a large breath and began. He told the story of the Boy Who Lived, at least as best as he knew it; a story she'd heard pieces of in her own country. He spoke of the challenges at Hogwarts and what had happened over the years. He spoke of his dearest friends and deadliest enemies. He explained how Cedric and Sirius had died, and how Neville and Luna had been taken. He even explained his new pact with Draco, and how he'd let him leave the caverns beneath the Forbidden Forest. He told her, not of her father, but of the mark on his arm, and of what powers it seemed to give him. His mouth was dry and hands were shaky. He watched as her face turned from concern to horror, but now it had settled on something more inscrutable. He realized his thumb had been nervously rubbing the back of her hand while he spoke, and stopped. He had told so much to so many, but not what was to follow. The prophecy stuck in his throat like a fur ball. He swallowed hard and told her why anyone who would stand with him was at risk, why her life was most certainly in danger, why either he or Voldemort must die. They sat together in silence for quite some time. He was considering what he should say about her father, when she took advantage of the pause and spoke.

"He's alive?" she asked with a wavering voice. He was surprised to find that someone so far removed from life in England would be so troubled by the Dark Lord's name.

"Yes," Harry answered. "He's alive. I've seen him." He paused. "I've been him." Gabriella narrowed her eyes.

"I don't understand."

"When he tried to kill me, he left a link." Harry pulled back the hair from about his scar. "We have access into each other's minds. Every night I fight it, and every day it grows stronger."

Instantly, she pulled her hand away as if in her eyes he was a criminal all over again. Harry slid off the bed and slumped onto the floor, looking down at his own hands. Her cat sat up, stretched and purred, circling about Harry and begging for affection. He stroked the cat's soft fur and then he spoke out loud the words that had been repeating in his mind all week.

"Voldemort had them attack Paris and the Ministry in London to pull attention away from Hogwarts. He then attacked Hogwarts to find me... to kill me." His voice was hollow... empty. "I've known. I've always known. If I had come when first he called, Neville and Luna would be safe, Fred would have been laughing with his family over Christmas... and Mr. Fudge, and... and Emma would still be alive." He turned and looked up at Gabriella and she saw for the first time tears pooling in Harry's eyes. "He calls me every night, but I won't listen anymore. I won't watch what he's doing to my friends, what he'd do to you if he knew. And Gabriella... he knows. He knows." His body gave a giant shudder, and he dropped his face into his hands and began to cry. But an instant later he stopped, and wiped his face.

"I didn't want this," he scowled, looking out her window at the darkening sky. "I didn't ask for this." He stood keeping his back to her. "I'm no hero." He walked toward the door and turned to look at her one final time. "I'm no monster either." He stepped into the hall only to run headlong into a very tired Soseh, nearly knocking her over. Her eyes grew wide.

"Harry Potter!" she smiled broadly. "Praise Asha for your goodness!" She wrapped her arms around him and held him tight. "Stand straight! The weight of the world lies on the precipice of your shoulders." Soseh pulled back to look him in the eyes, her own glowing brightly. "She has spoken to me of the one with green eyes who would risk his own life to save the life of an enemy. The tools of victory have been revealed to him, if only he would see." Soseh reached up and held his face with her hands and pulled him close kissing both his eyes. She let him go, and took a step back.

Before Harry could think, Soseh arched her arm and slapped him across the face. "If I ever find you in my daughter's room again with the door closed, I will skin you like a rabbit! Do you understand young man?" she said coolly. His mind was swirling, but if there's one natural instinct every sixteen-year-old boy has, it's to say 'yes' to your girlfriend's mother.

"Y-yes ma'am," Harry stumbled, rubbing his cheek.

"Good," said Soseh. "Let us now eat dinner."

Harry started to explain why he had to leave when Gabriella grabbed him from behind wrapping her arms around his waist.

"Have I told you I love him, Mama?" she asked brightly.

"Yes, darling," said Soseh descending the stairs. "But that's no excuse." She held a finger in the air waving it in admonition.

"Has he told you he loves me?" At this question, Soseh stopped at the bottom of the stairs and turned around. For a moment, Harry saw the same Soseh he had known from summer. A warm glow seemed to radiate from her expression.

"I have painted it so, have I not?" Soseh's grin had a hint of mischief, and she turned back into the kitchen. Harry spun and squeezed Gabriella hard. He began to shake, and soon the tears that he had stopped earlier began to flow freely and quietly. The sound of pots and pans clanked from the kitchen below as Gabriella held Harry in her arms at the top of the stairs. Finally, Harry let go and looked at his love.

"He'll take you from me," he breathed.

"He'll try," Gabriella agreed. "And he might succeed." She wiped his cheek with her hand. "Harry, I come from where there are never any guarantees. Bombs rained down from the heavens, and belched up from the streets. They exploded in churches, in the markets, or on the playgrounds. And the people that sent them cared less about who they killed than the bombs. I was the one who asked to leave, and it was Papa who thought it might be safer here. In many ways, we were both wrong. Sometimes you have to stand firm to make a difference... to stop the death. You know, even if you were to leave me tonight never to return, the Phantom of Death would still strike at my heels. At least I now know the risks. They're mine to take, not yours, and I take them freely."

"But--"

"Thank you for being brave enough to tell me the truth. Cho told me that Gryffindors were known for being brash fools, but after meeting a few of your friends, I think perhaps she left a thing or two out."

"Brash fools?" Harry flared slightly, and Gabriella smiled.

"Come here," she said leading him by the hand down the stairs. Soseh already had the home smelling warm and inviting. Harry and Gabriella went over to the tree, and they both knelt down among the still unopened gifts. "We said we'd wait and we have. It's time to move on." She reached down and picked up a fairly large present. "Here."

Opening the box he noticed that the large fir tree was standing nailed to wooden boards on the floor. It had been up for weeks without water, and yet it was as fresh and green as ever.

"Gabriella... your tree. Don't you water it?" Harry asked, slipping off the bow.

"Well, Mama takes care of the tree. Why?" she asked. Harry slipped off the wrapping paper from the box.

"No reason," he answered, glancing over at Soseh, still busy in the kitchen. He lifted the lid off the box to find a soft grained, leather coat similar to Grigor's overcoat but not quite as long. Harry stood and slipped it on. Grinning, Gabriella rubbed her hands down his shoulders. "Brilliant. Thank you," he said kissing her gently on the lips.

"It's soft," she said stroking his chest.

"I don't think I'll ever take it off," he said with a smile.

"And it has some... special features." Her eyes twinkled for the first time since they'd first heard of the bombing in Paris. She reached low around behind him with both hands.

"Nope, it's never coming off."

"Don't be silly," she said, grabbing his wand from his pants pocket and slipping it out. "Here." She slid the wand in a small compartment in the left sleeve of the jacket. "Now you can tuck your shirt in."

"Nice," he said, turning his back to the kitchen and sliding the wand from the compartment much like a quick-draw expert pulling his six-shooter.

"And this," added Gabriella. She grabbed a blanket hanging over the back of the couch and started to push it into the front pocket of the jacket. The blanket kept going, and going until it fully disappeared into the coat, without the least sign of a bulge.

"I can't even tell it's in there," Harry whispered, realizing that not only had the blanket disappeared into his coat, it was also weightless.

"Dinner!" Soseh called.

Harry pulled the blanket out of his coat, and Gabriella kissed him. "There are some other surprises... you'll see."

"I thought you said--"

"Let's eat. There'll be time for more later."

"How much more?" Harry whispered in Gabriella's ear with a smile.

"Coming, Mama," Gabriella called back to the kitchen. "Should I open mine now?" she asked Harry reaching down and picking up the modest package that he had placed there earlier in the week.

"You can open it at the table. I'm sure your mum will want to see." He paused. "I'm sure your dad will want to see too, but we can figure that out later." They walked over and sat down with Soseh, and Gabriella began to open the gift.

"Great things come in small packages," Soseh beamed, rubbing her hands together. "I've always been fond of jewelry." She flashed a look at Harry, who looked nervously away. "But some things are more important, aren't they my child?" He looked up and felt her look right through him again. He hadn't noticed that Gabriella had already opened the package.

"Tickets? And more tickets? And what's this... a booklet? Harry, it looks as if--"

"Only if you want to," he interrupted. "I kinda got everything before I knew... you know. Anyway, it's this summer. I thought, maybe, we might get out of here. The Mediterranean: Greece, Turkey, Lebanon, Israel. You've seen my roots, for what they're worth; I wanted to learn more about yours. Four weeks we cruise as part of a youth enrichment program to understand the issues facing the Middle East, and then another four weeks volunteering time in Armenia."

"Armenia?"

"I know... it's crazy. After what we talked about upstairs, I'd understand if you said no. It's not the safest part of the world anyway, but I thought maybe I could learn something.

"It's not crazy," said Gabriella warmly at Harry. "It's brilliant."

"Supervised?" Soseh asked pointedly.

"Actually, it's organized as part of a collaboration between the various religious groups out of South Benton. So, yes ma'am, very supervised."

"Let me speak with your father... after Harry leaves for school. I think it may take all spring to convince him, but we will. You'll see, we will. You'll have a chance to visit your grandmother again. She'll like that, and she'll especially want to be meeting you, Harry." Smiling brightly, she reached over and squeezed his arm.

"Thank you, Harry," said Gabriella, hugging him close.

After dinner, the two went for a walk along Privet Drive, Harry wearing his new coat. For being so light, it was spectacularly warm.

"You know," Harry said softly, "your dad might say no, and then you'd walk away from Christmas with nothing."

"I'd still have you," she said. The air was still as she pulled his arm close. They were returning home and Harry was steering her to the Dursley side of the street.

"Well, I thought maybe you'd like something else." He reached into his pants pocket and pulled out a small box. She opened it to reveal a pair of earrings. "I've pretty much worn the one I'm wearing through and I thought something in gold might make a nice change." About an inch long, there was a winged staff made of white gold entwined with two serpents of yellow gold -- the caduceus. "It was the name of my new broom, but now knowing you're a healer I like them even more." Harry expected an ooh, or an ah, but instead the response was something quite different.

"You fly?" she said excitedly, holding the gift in one hand close to her chest.

"Yeah," said Harry smiling back, "a little."

"We really must--" She stopped herself. Her face fell slightly and she opened her hand and looked at the earrings. "They're beautiful, Harry. Thank you." They continued to walk as Gabriella split the pair, and they each put one on. "Tell me about your broom... a Caduceus? I last had my heart set on a Firebolt."

Before long they were at the Dursley front door. It was still relatively early and as they held each other's hands the twinkle flashed in Gabriella's eyes.

"Will you come in?" Harry asked absentmindedly. Gabriella nodded, glancing across the street.

"Tonight, she seems better somehow. Don't you think?" she asked.

"She knew more than just my name tonight. That's a good sign." Harry opened the door, walked into the living room and cringed. He still hadn't cleaned the front room, and when Gabriella entered she gasped.

"Harry Potter, you mean to tell me you haven't picked up one stick this whole time! You swore to me that--"

"I've picked up more than one!" he shot back in defense. "At least three, maybe four." There were dozens of wood splinters scattered all over the room.

"I can't believe you've just left this here all this time!"

"Well you could help, you know. I can't use magic, but you could just--"

"You know I can't either," she said a bit heatedly.

"Oh, you can use it to vanish my scar, and to keep a tree alive," accused Harry, "but you can't help me clean up a bit."

"I'm a healer, not a housekeeper!"

"Fine... fine," said Harry, trying to calm things down. This was not going like he had imagined. "Look I'll do it tomorrow, I swear." He was about to suggest they sit, but the room was too much a mess. Suggesting they go upstairs seemed too forward, especially after just having had a spat. His eyes looked around the room. "What do you say we go to visit the Weasleys? Just for a few minutes. I promised I'd visit and I've been ignoring them all vacation."

"I... I really shouldn't."

"It's not like real magic or anything. It's just floo powder. Come on, just a few minutes... I swear."

"Where have I heard that before?" said Gabriella, rolling her eyes. She crossed her arms and looked at the fireplace. "Well, you'd have to pick up at least some of this mess to get the fire started. That's something." She paused. "Okay. But just a few minutes!"

Harry beamed as he gathered wood for the fire. Just as it started to roar, he turned to Gabriella. "I need to show you the address. This is a safe-house for the Weasleys and I need your word that you won't reveal its location to anyone, nor ever say it out loud." He waited deliberately until after she nodded. "Not even your father."

"I swear," she said melodramatically. Harry held her hands and looked deeply into her eyes.

"Gabriella, I know it sounds cloak and dagger, but there are those who would torture you to death to uncover this information. And once they knew, countless lives would be lost. You mustn't let anyone know that you know."

"I'm sorry," she said, standing somewhat taller. "I won't tell a soul, not even Mama." He handed her the note with the address on it.

"Think of the location when you enter the fire. Don't say it. Do you understand?" She handed the paper back to him nodding.

A few minutes later they both emerged from the fireplace at number twelve Grimmauld Place. There was yelling emanating from the kitchen. The two quietly peaked in the door to find Ron and Charlie playing a game of chess at the dinner table. Floating in the air above the sink, the dishes were being scrubbed and put away. Mrs. Weasley stood behind Ron, as did George, Hermione, Ginny and Dean. Behind Charlie stood only Fred who, to Harry's relief, looked just like Fred always did. Still, Harry wondered why he stood alone behind Charlie. Was he deliberately being isolated? A moment later, Ron said, "Checkmate!" Everyone behind him cheered. George came round the table to his twin brother, holding out his hand, palm open.

"Pay up, Fred," he said, now holding out both hands.

"Er, double or nothing, next time they play?" Fred asked, as if he'd swallowed a lemon.

"Well, let me see," said George pensively stroking his chin. "They've played every Christmas since Ron was old enough to know how to find the toilet. We've been betting on the game since he was old enough to know to pull his pants down first. You've always bet on Charlie, you've always lost, and you've always asked for double-or-nothing."

"And you've always said yes," encouraged Fred.

"Ah, but tonight we crossed a million galleons, and I'm starting to seriously doubt Charlie's chess playing abilities. I think you should cut your losses."

"But--"

"Harry!" Ginny squealed, seeing him at the door. She ran over and gave him a grand hug. "Gabriella! You made it!" She was beaming, but then the smile slipped off her face as she turned to Gabriella. "How are you doing?" she asked solemnly. "Harry told us about your friend. I'm so sorry."

"We're all sorry, dear," said Mrs. Weasley kindly, giving Gabriella a hug. "Harry, it's good to see you." There was a coolness in her words that Harry had rarely heard from Mrs. Weasley, and never directed toward him. "Have you two eaten?"

"Yes, but thanks, Mrs. Weasley," Gabriella responded graciously. She looked around the enormous kitchen. It was immaculate. "You have a lovely home."

"Thank you, dear," said Mrs. Weasley. "But we're just guests. The home belongs to Harry." Behind Gabriella's back, Harry was trying to make a hand gesture to stop Mrs. Weasley from saying what she said, but it was too late.

"Harry's?" Gabriella asked.

"Yes. He inherited it as a small part of his godfather's estate."

"Small part? Estate?"

"It... it's not that much," Harry jumped in. "Just some old beat up place in London." But over the last few months, Mrs. Weasley had transformed the household into an elegant home.

"When we met," said Gabriella, poking Harry in the chest, "you said you didn't have two pounds to rub together."

"Well, I didn't," Harry shrugged innocently. "Just galleons."

"Oh!" she puffed, pushing his shoulders. "Well, what if you take me on a tour." Harry's face darkened slightly. To Gabriella, it may look like an elegant house, but for Harry it still pulled bitter memories to the surface.

"I'll show you," Hermione interjected brightly. "It's really quite unique in many ways. The Black family goes back for centuries. This house is magically located..." her voice trailed off as she and Ginny took Gabriella by each arm and left the kitchen. Harry was wondering if it might have been better for him to show the house when he turned around to find the rest of the Weasleys looking at him, all but Fred who was eating a slice of cake with Dean, and drinking a hot mug of coffee. It was an awkward moment.

"So, Ron here," George jumped off, "says you let Lucius Malfoy and his boy slip through your fingers." Harry's ears reddened.

"Nobody knows who was with Malfoy," answered Harry, coolly looking at Ron.

"Yeah," Fred muttered with a mouthful of cake, "that's what Hermione told us."

"And as for letting him slip through my fingers, I was pretty much unconscious when the whole thing happened."

"Yeah," Fred added, taking another bite. "Hermione told us that as well."

"And how are you, aside from hungry?" Harry asked, trying to turn the stares that were fixed on him.

"I don't know," Fred's eyes grew wide. "Since I've been bitten, seems I want to wolf everything down." His brothers and Dean laughed, but his mother did not take the comment well at all.

"Stop it!" Mrs. Weasley spat. "It's not funny!" The laughter stopped, and she turned on Harry. "And you! How you could let it happen! If I had a galleon for every one of my children that landed in hospital after traipsing along after you on one of your fool adventures.... They would follow you into the abyss if you asked, Harry. All my children adore you."

"Except Percy," George corrected.

"And Bill doesn't much care one way or the other for you, Harry," Fred added.

"I like you Harry," chimed in Charlie, "but I'm not sure about the abyss thing. Now if you have a problem with dragons--"

"Do you see?" Mrs. Weasley said exasperated, looking at Harry. "Ron and Ginny, Fred and George, I won't have you leading them to their deaths! I won't have you kill my children." Her voice was shaky and tears were welling in her eyes. Charlie took her by the arm and sat her down.

"It's war, Mum," he said softly, sitting at her side. "And, other than Albus Dumbledore, there's nobody I'd rather have leading the charge than Harry Potter."

"Face it, Harry," said George wryly, "he adores you too."

Seeing her sitting there, Harry's heart began to ache and huge emotions of guilt began to heave up from inside.

"Mrs. Weasley... Fred... I swear--" The door to the kitchen flung open. Harry expected to see Gabriella and Hermione, but instead it was Mr. Weasley, flanked by Percy and Alastor Moody. Mad-Eye was simply beaming; at least his face looked like it was beaming... sort of.

"We did it!" Mad-Eye yelled out. "Pass out the ale, boys! It's time for a celebration."

"What?" Ron asked. "What happened?"

"Dad's the new Minister of Magic," Percy said smugly.

"Acting Minister," Mr. Weasley corrected modestly. "Until we can hold a proper popular election, the council has given me the task." Mrs. Weasley stood, holding both hands over her mouth.

"I don't believe it," she gasped in disbelief. She, along with everyone else, stood and congratulated Mr. Weasley. She hugged him close. "Arthur, that's wonderful." But he could tell instantly what she was thinking.

"Yes Molly, the next Death Eater bull's-eye... as if things weren't already bad enough." He kissed her cheek and held her close. "We'll see it through. I promise." The door swung open again and in walked Hermione with Ginny.

"Where's--" Harry began, but Gabriella was next through, holding the arm of Tonks whose hair was a strawberry blonde. Tonks was smiling, but Gabriella was laughing.

"Really?" Gabriella chuckled. "That's what Hermione said. His first year?" Tonks smiled and nodded her head.

"Wotcher, Harry!" said Tonks. "I've finally had the chance to talk with your friend Gabriella. She's sweet. I can see why you've flittered most of the school year away talking about her and ignoring your studies." Harry could feel the room's eyes turn on him again, only this time he was blushing. "I've tried to convince her she should join us at Hogwarts, but her mind is set against it. Quite stalwart, she is." Hearing Tonks' words, Harry smiled with pride. Gabriella was all that and more.

Soon, food was spread about, and even those not yet of age were afforded the opportunity to cheer Mr. Weasley's new appointment with a glass of mead. Tapping Dean on the shoulder to follow suit, Ron reached to fill his glass again, but Mrs. Weasley slapped his hand. Much to Mad-Eye's disappointment, the conversation turned to lighter topics like Quidditch and musical groups. Ginny was holding Dean's hand and Hermione Ron's. The coolness that Harry felt on his arrival had ebbed away. Gabriella was telling the story about how she first heard Harry was a criminal, when Tonks stood and tapped him on the shoulder.

"Harry," she said with a soft voice, "might I have a word?"

"Excuse me," said Hermione standing as well. "I need to use the bathroom." The three left the kitchen, Hermione turning left to the bathroom, Harry and Tonks turning right towards the Black Family study. Tonks watched as Hermione disappeared from sight and then closed the study door and locked it.

She seemed suddenly tired and shivered a little just before she flicked her wand, starting the flames in the small fireplace in the corner of the room. It filled with a golden glow and the room became instantly more inviting. Of all the rooms at Grimmauld Place, this was the least touched by Mrs. Weasley. It contained almost everything that Harry thought Sirius would want to keep, but as he scanned the room Harry considered getting rid of the lot. It was time to move on.

"So, Harry," Tonks began as she sat back in one of the leather chairs, "do you have your gift?" Harry nodded. He'd been carrying it with him in his pocket since the day he opened the present. "And the riddle?"

"I'm really not good at riddles, Tonks," Harry moaned.

"Yes you are," she said keenly. She leaned forward looking intently at Harry. "I was certain that it would take us longer. I figured maybe we could work on it this summer together, but I underestimated you." She leaned back in her chair. "Justifiably so, I believe. There was no reason to raise your hopes, only to have them dashed again. Do you have it with you?" Harry pulled the golden rod from his pocket. He wasn't sure why he carried it with him as if it were something precious. Perhaps because it was from Tonks, but more likely because it was from Tonks and it was not the kind of gift that Tonks would normally give. "Excellent," said the witch with a smile as she took to her feet. She wandered over to the large mahogany case in which rested the collection of golden instruments, a collection of nefarious objects in the Black house that Harry had elected to keep. Immediately, Harry realized the rod had something to do with one of them, but which one and what it would do he didn't know. His mind tried putting the riddle in context with what he was now seeing. Tonks stood staring at the golden objects, her back to Harry.

"Why did you save Lucius' life?" she asked. The question jarred Harry in an unexpected way.

"I-I didn't. He... he just--"

Tonks turned. "Did you let escape the one student, I thought you despised above all?"

Harry began to perspire, his face reddening, and the small fire feeling suddenly very warm. It required no Legilimens to know he was hiding something. Was Tonks thinking he had switched alliance?

"It's not what you think, Tonks," Harry pleaded, taking to his feet. "I swear, I didn't--"

"Did you save Lucius Malfoy's life?" she demanded. Her voice was stern, almost accusatory, but her eyes told a different story. What that story was, Harry couldn't decipher, but he also couldn't help but answer her honestly.

"Yes," he replied, looking to the floor. "I-I saved him."

"They say it almost killed you."

"I know," Harry nodded, still looking at his shoes. And then he looked up into her face, feeling as if he were speaking words of betrayal. "I couldn't let him die. Not like that. Not in front of..."

"Draco?"

Harry couldn't bring himself to saying yes. He simply nodded his head. Who was it, he wondered, that he was betraying? If Dumbledore were here now, would he see disappointment or pride? Instead he was looking back at Tonks whose eyes were, for a moment, unsure, but then glinted with the slightest of twinkles. She put her arms about Harry and hugged him, chuckling to herself.

"I think we can do it, Harry!" She patted him on the shoulders, and turned back to the mahogany cabinet. "But no one must know." Carefully she reached in and retrieved one of the larger golden objects. Bowl shaped, it was about the size of a washbasin. Around its thick edge was a moveable ring engraved with about a dozen runes that Harry did not recognize, at least not at first. One did, finally, catch his eye. He had seen it in the classroom at Hogwarts, on the cover of a textbook, two crossed lightning bolts--the Viswa Vajra. The image made him rub his forearm. Gently, Tonks set the heavy instrument on the desk. "I wonder how Lucius will feel if we succeed?" she asked herself.

"Feel?" Harry asked blankly.

"You saved his life, Harry, and now, although he doesn't know it, he's going to return the favor, at least we now have hope." Tonks held out her hand, and Harry placed the golden rod in her palm.

"Hope for what, Tonks?"

"Your compassion, Harry... Lucius Malfoy's blood... and a little luck," she slid the rod in an opening on the collar of the bowl and the ring began to rotate, "have given us a chance." It was like watching a roulette wheel spin. "A chance for my cousin... for your godfather... a chance to bring back Sirius Black."