Harry Potter and the Burden of Becoming

Harry Potter and the Burden of Becoming

Chapter 54 - Pure Water

~~~***~~~

There was a loud crash.

Suddenly awake, Harry instinctively reached for his wand at the bedside table. Only he couldn't move. He tried again, and still his body refused to respond.

A clatter and another crash.

He could feel the sheets about his body, his hands under the pillow beneath his face, but he couldn't see. His eyes were closed, and they would not open. "Gabriella!" he tried to cry out, but no sound came. He was immobilized, but he knew the feeling of an immobulus hex, and this was not it. A car passed by on Privet Drive.

"That's familiar," he thought. "I'm still in the house." Breathing in, he detected a hint of Gabriella's perfume. "Oh, no, please, no."

More clattering to either side. Something, not quite human, was moving about the bed in the Dursleys' master bedroom. The bed jerked violently and there was another crash.

"Be careful! But, be swift. We must not tarry. We must meet the rising star." The voice was deep and stern.

"If the others learn of our actions..." This voice was softer, and anxious.

"They will learn soon enough." His words were heavy, filled with a familiar sorrow.

More distant steps and the sound of a door swinging open.

"Is it done?" asked the deep voice.

"She is finished," said a harsh male voice, also filled with sadness.

Harry could feel himself scream. He could feel his heart pounding in his chest. He could feel the perspiration build about his face, but still he could not move.

"He is awake," said the nervous one.

"Then it is time," said the leader, as if regretting his words.

More clatter, the sound of glass shattering, and a sudden sense of weightlessness. He felt as if he were floating above his bed. A burning red flash filled his gaze, and then all went black again. It was cold, very cold. He would be shivering if his body were able. The feeling of the sheet and pillow had disappeared. He felt nothing, but cold. The sounds too had changed. There was a stillness in the air. The clattering stopped, replaced with a swooshing sound -- footsteps in snow.

"Cover him," commanded the deep voice. "We don't need him dying on us before the Cleansing." A moment later, Harry felt warmth as something was placed around him, and tied about his neck and waist.

"It's not too late," pleaded the nervous voice. "When he dies, school's wizard will--"

"Before you were born, your fate was sealed to this night... this new year... this rebirth."

"I only wish I could see the stars."

"They would only reveal the same truths we've spoken of..."

They were moving. He felt as if he was floating just in front of the others. Then a scent filled his nostrils: pine, wet, decay. They were in a forest... the Forbidden Forest, he was sure of it. The occasional call of a bird, or scamper of a creature was all he heard.

"... he will die this day, as we have known all along."

There was a general snort from the other two, and then silence. No one spoke as they continued to make their way into the forest. The smell of death grew stronger, and a sense of foreboding swelled in Harry's heart. They continued for what seemed like an hour, when finally the youngest broke the silence.

"You have always had the keenest eyes." There was no response. "And only you have seen its return." It was clear he was uncomfortable with what they were about to do.

"Tell him to stop!" Harry yelled in his head.

"There is another that has marked its return... at the school. A year hence it will burn as a second sun, and shimmer as a second moon, never dimmed by darkness. Would you have me close my eyes?" The words were scolding.

"But the school's wizard... surely he will seek retribution."

"It is not our fate to concern ourselves with the whims of wizards. Tonight, above the clouds, the brightness of Mars dims as Ebyrth returns. Without the Cleansing, their cold emptiness will consume us all. I will not set myself against the heavens."

Harry began to notice a hint of daylight filtering through his closed lids. The three stopped, and that's when he noticed it: the sound of birds chirping had disappeared... replaced by the sound of water. It was a small trickling at first. The air was much fresher here, as the odor of decay vanished. He focused his mind, concentrating to move himself, but his bones were held motionless. He had never known an immobulus hex to last this long. Again, he cried out, but there was only silence.

"He grows restless," said the anxious voice, still tight with anticipation.

"It will be over soon," answered the dispassionate, deep voice.

"The waters have gone hungry for many years. He will not survive."

"Yes, I know."

They continued to move, following the babbling water. As they pressed on, the small stream was met by another, and then another. Eventually, the babble grew into a roar. Harry could feel a gentle breeze against his face that was still cold, but inside, for some reason, he felt warm. Fear, however, was creeping into his heart. He began to imagine Death Eaters, dark goblins, giants. He could hear the crashing of the water move from just ahead to directly beneath him. He knew this sound, and the only place in the Forbidden Forest that could make it. In his mind's eye, he could see where he was, he had been levitated out over the falls. He'd been here before on his Caduceus, only now he had no broom to support his weight.

"Remove the cloak," the leader called out over the roar of the falling water. Instantly, the mist and spray blasted Harry's entire body. He expected cold, but what he felt was pain. A thousand tiny needles plunged inward through his flesh. He tried to cry out, but made no sound.

"Wait! We can't--"

"Goodbye... Harry Potter -- Savior of our world."

The spell holding him skyward was released, and with it the spell holding him motionless. Flailing his arms, he began to plummet down, spray splashing against his naked body. With each wave of water washing up against his skin, he felt a deeper sensation of pain. As he tumbled, he tried to see who had thrown him to his death, but everything was a blur; his glasses were still on the table by the bed on Privet Drive. Three figures, one reminiscent of a Weasley, pulled back from the brink and disappeared from view. The water, the rocks, all rose up to greet him. Had it been Voldemort? Was this the end? He closed his eyes, and in that instant, just before his death, he remembered. Instead of clenching in fear, his eyes opened fully to freely meet their fate. He splashed into the pool, just missing jagged edges of stone to either side. His body was on fire, and he heard them call as he continued to sink.

The voices, and there were many, came from everywhere. "Love harbors no enemies... be cleansed." A tremendous flash of light filled his field of vision, blinding him with its brightness. His lungs were screaming for air, but there was none to be had. His flesh felt as if it were being torn from his bones, and his head... his head erupted in pain. The agony was too great; he wanted to die. But then his spirit to survive welled up within. He couldn't die, not yet, not like this. He needed to help, at least offer hope against the darkness. In the fractured light, he thought he saw them coming to greet him, coming to take him away from this world.

Mother? Father? I've failed; forgive me.

He surrendered to his fate as his vision began to flicker, tunneling to a single point of bright white, only to fade to utter darkness.

He gasped for air, and heaved great gulps of it into his lungs. His eyes sprang open, and he sat bolt upright, the sheet falling to his waist. A dream? It couldn't have been a dream. Wait; this was wrong... he was in his uncle and aunt's room, the only room in the Dursleys' house that hadn't been damaged. There was a large banging sound downstairs and Harry, his head pounding at a migraine magnitude, reflexively reached for his wand at the tableside, but all he found was a book on how to sell drills. He was feeling disoriented, his whole body ached, and the fact that everything was blurred didn't help. Someone was coming up the stairs, so Harry took to his feet, his long hair falling down about his face. Still confused, he suddenly realized the bruises that ran up and down his naked body. Quickly, he wrapped himself in the sheet, grabbed the largest weapon he could find, the book on drills, and stepped behind the door. The door swung open, hitting Harry hard in shoulder. He reached up to swing down, when the person grabbed his hand.

"Harry?" he asked. "What the... What are you doin' in dad's room dressed like a Greek? You have some sort of toga party last night?"

"Dudley?" Harry asked squinting his eyes.

Dudley tossed his father's suitcase down and slipped the book out of Harry's hand, flinging it onto the bed.

"Two weeks alone, and you get a bit jumpy, eh?" He looked over at the bed. "I don't recall them saying you could sleep here."

"Well... er..." Harry stammered. "In my room, there was a bit of a fire see, and..."

"Fire?" Dudley exclaimed excitedly, quickly dashing across the hall, and bursting into Harry's room.

"Wait!" yelled Harry, chasing after him. "I--"

He nearly tripped over Dudley standing in the doorway to his room.

"What fire?" challenged Dudley.

The room was, well, perfect. The carpet looked as it always had. Even the stains beneath the unbroken window were the same. Hedwig's cage had fresh paper. It was as if nothing had happened. The only unusual thing about his room was that it was clean, and his bed made. His glasses were at his bedside, but his wand was nowhere to be found. Quickly, Harry put his glasses on, pulling Vernon's sheet tighter about him.

"Glass..." Harry whispered, ignoring Dudley's question. "I know I heard shattered glass." Harry dashed into Dudley's room. It too looked untouched. He was certain he'd heard the lamp from the dresser crash to the floor, but there was absolutely nothing wrong. He heard the heavy footsteps of Vernon climbing the stairs. Holding two suitcases, he met Harry at the top, and his face was furious. He dropped them both, and was pointing back down the stairs but was too winded to say anything. And then Harry remembered the disaster downstairs.

"I-I'm sorry," Harry said, apologizing for what he'd done to the living room. "I just haven't had a chance--"

"Sorry?" Vernon screamed. "We trusted you with the safekeeping of our home, and this is how you repay us!? Get out of my sight, boy!" He grabbed the suitcases and trudged into his room.

"You forgot to put the liquor bottle back in the cupboard," Dudley whispered in Harry's ear. "Mum found it in the icebox." Dudley patted Harry on the shoulder. "You know, he keeps a case in the garage. I always swap 'em out and he never notices."

Harry hurried down the stairs and Dudley followed. Petunia was putting a few bags worth of groceries away. She scowled silently at Harry as he made his way to the living room. The fireplace was gone, covered by the same wall that was there before. The room was spotless, except for the jacket Gabriella had given him, which now hung over the back of one of the chairs.

"I will not have a drunk that is incapable of picking up after himself under my roof!" Aunt Petunia called from the kitchen. "Take your coat to your room!"

"I guess," smirked Dudley under his breath, "that means you can drink all you want... as long as you're neat." He smiled, kicked off his shoes, and flipped on the television. Befuddled, Harry grabbed his jacket and made his way back up the stairs. Was it all a dream? But these bruises? He had to get dressed, and see if Gabriella was okay.

His head still ached as he returned to his room. Unsure of anything, he began to question everything that happened since he left Hogwarts. Had he slept for over a week? Some enchantment perhaps? He was putting on his clothes, trying to remember his dream from the night before, it had seemed so real, when the doorbell rang; it was Gabriella. Harry's heart leapt as he heard her voice from downstairs. She was in an animated conversation with Dudley when Harry heard her cry out, "What do you mean he's here?!"

"Wait! You can't--" Dudley called, but too late. She was charging up the stairs.

Harry met her outside his door and she nearly tackled him full force driving him back into his room. "Harry! You're okay!" She held him tight, kissing his neck again and again. "Where have you been? I thought they... I thought they... Asha, Harry, it's been days."

"Days?" Harry asked confused. "What do you mean? What day is it?"

"Saturday," she answered, pushing back the wisps of hair hanging in Harry's face.

"The fourth?" he asked unsteadily. "That's not possible. I was only..." Seeing her expression he stopped. Her eyes had drifted upward from his. He was used to this look from most people, but not Gabriella. She wasn't listening, and that irritated him. "Yeah, it's my scar. Now would you look at me?" he said, pointing at his own eyes with two fingers.

Gabriella slowly shook her head, and then took her own hand rubbing her thumb against his scar. "It... it's gone," she whispered.

"What?" Harry asked. He stood and walked over to the dresser, then lifted back his hair to see the scar on his forehead. Where once was what could be described as a single bolt of lightning, was a normal everyday forehead, free of any mark at all. Seeing that the mark had vanished, his eyes drift down to his arm. Though his arm did not ache, the scar was there, but not as he had seen it before. The mark of the sword and the snake was neither red, nor swollen, but a clear white outline traced its structure. He let his hair drop down about his face.

"No," Harry muttered, slumping his shoulders. All his life he had looked back at the mark of death that taunted him; now it was gone. He placed both hands on his dresser trying to think. "What's going on? What's happening to me?"

"You're safe," she answered. "That's the important thing. But, we need to talk. There are--"

Uncle Vernon burst into the room. "Is this what you've been doing while we've been gone?" he spat, grabbing Gabriella by the arm. She could have easily snapped his, but made no such move. "You know... NO VISITORS!" He began to drag Gabriella out of the room. "You'll have to leave."

Harry on the contrary was furious. "Stop it!" Vernon ignored him, roughly escorting Gabriella to the stairs. Knowing he had no wand, Harry held up his hand, "Expelliarmus!" he yelled. Nothing happened. He looked at the palm of his right hand as if trying to see why it had misfired then raised it again. "Stupefy!" he called, and still nothing happened.

Vernon and Gabriella were halfway down the stairs, with Harry only a step behind, when there was a loud pop from below, then a snap. Aunt Petunia let out a small shriek. There was another pop from above. Wizards, dressed in Ministry robes, were Apparating all over the Dursley home. It sounded like a fresh string of firecrackers had just been lit off. In an instant, over a dozen Ministry witches and wizards surrounded them. Uncle Vernon stopped, petrified by the incursion. He let go of Gabriella, but she too remained frozen. Among the dozens of wizards brandishing wands, there were none that Harry recognized, save one, Arthur Weasley. He was nervous, tense, and the lines on his face were deeper than ever. He looked up at Harry and the tension drained.

"Thank God," Mr. Weasley breathed in a great sigh as he stepped to the bottom of the stairs. "Mr. Dursley," he nodded politely. "Sorry for the...er... intrusion, but Harry's been missing, and I just received word he'd arrived." He looked up at Gabriella nodding his head in greeting, and then turned to Harry. "I'm glad you decided to return. No worse for the wear I hope." He tried to muster a smile, but Harry could see at once it was forced. Many of those in Ministry robes began to scuttle about searching for something, or someone.

A wizard on the second floor appeared from inside Harry's room. "Clear, Minister," he said in a steely voice. Mr. Weasley nodded, and then looked at another wizard at his side.

"Nothing down here, sir," the wizard said quietly. Again, Mr. Weasley nodded.

"See here," said Uncle Vernon, mustering a moment of courage. "This is my home! I'll not have it crawling with the likes of... of you!"

"I completely understand, sir," answered Mr. Weasley in a kind, albeit controlled, voice. "This," he held out his arms and pointed at the wizards searching the house, "was simply a precaution." He gave the signal and the room exploded with a sudden cracking, then fell quiet. All the wizards had Apparated except for the one that spoke on the top of the stairs and the one on the bottom now at Mr. Weasley's side. "We needed to be sure that Harry hadn't run off, and gotten himself into trouble, or brought trouble home with him."

"Oh, the boy's good for that," sneered Uncle Vernon, stepping down to the lower floor followed by Gabriella. Harry began to step down himself.

"Mr. Weasley," Harry said, "I don't know what you're thinking, but I didn't run off anywhere."

"Yes... well," said Mr. Weasley, not looking Harry directly in the eyes. "Be that as it may, I... er... May I have your wand?" He held out his hand, looking somewhere below Harry's neck.

"My what?" Harry howled, taking a step backward up the stairs. He looked up the staircase at the wizard now blocking his way. "It's because of what happened at Grimmauld Place, isn't it?" There was no answer. "My SAFETY?" Harry yelled. "My bloody well being, is that it?" He took another step back. "Tell me, Mr. Weasley. Have you taken over the Ministry, or has the Ministry taken over you?"

"This is nonsense, Harry," Mr. Weasley pleaded. "I assure you it's only temporary. Just hand it to me."

Aunt Petunia stepped from the kitchen into view. She was enjoying this. There was a smirk on her face, and her eyes were narrowed in anticipation of what was to come. Harry despised that look, but he turned his anger on Mr. Weasley.

"How is it that a dozen Hogwarts students can serve Voldemort and his Death Eaters with their wands, and you come after me?"

"Strictly speaking... they were on school grounds, although--"

"That's absurd!" Harry spat. "You want my wand?" he yelled looking at the three wizards surrounding him. "You want my wand? I'LL GIVE YOU MY WAND!" He reached toward his back pocket, and remembered too late he had no wand. A stunner hit him squarely in the back. His last thought: "Ooops." And he crumpled to the floor, tumbling down the stairs, falling unconscious.

A few moments later, Harry began to come to his senses on the couch in the Dursley living room. Gabriella had her hands to his head, and when she whispered something, something he didn't hear, the fog immediately lifted from his mind. He moved to sit up, but she held him down, which was just as well. His back ached. The stunner packed a bit more wallop than the one Draco had hit him with earlier in the year.

Mr. Weasley sat alone on the coffee table holding his hands together and tapping his index fingers. He was nervous, and aside from Gabriella, they were alone. The Dursleys had retreated to the second floor, and the other Ministry wizards had Disapparated.

"He can speak," Gabriella said softly, "but I'll need to work on his back later."

"I understand, Gabriella," said Mr. Weasley. She stood and walked over to the window as Mr. Weasley leaned in. "Are you bloody daft, boy?" he asked Harry sharply. "Why didn't you just tell me you didn't have a wand?"

Harry took a deep breath, and slowly released it, but the anger that was with him before he was taken down still ebbed in his veins. "You thought I ran, didn't you?" he replied. "Harry Potter Caught Fleeing Ministry Justice... I can see the Daily Prophet now. Am I to go to trial again, then? Or is it just off to Azkaban?"

"Harry, you're being--"

"Have you searched my room? My pockets? The house? What about my mind?" Harry forced himself up, grimacing, and opened his eyes wide in front of Mr. Weasley's face in a mocking gesture. "Nope, nothing in there." He deliberately let his hair fall down his face to hide the change in his scar. "I'm sure Ron can confirm that."

Mr. Weasley simply closed his eyes, and dropped his head. He rubbed his face with his hands trying to bring some bit of life back to his spirit, but none came. He stood and joined Gabriella at the window. "I thought..." he started, but then stopped. He walked over to the wall that once again was hiding the fireplace on the other side. "Nice work," he said to Gabriella. "You're sure you won't reconsider? Certainly after the hearing, it would be possible with the right recommendation. I am Minister, after all."

"No, sir," Gabriella answered with a pleasant smile. "At least... not yet. There are still some things I need to discuss with my parents. Perhaps as Mama recovers..." Mr. Weasley broke out in his first smile.

"That's the closest you've come to saying, 'yes'! I'll take it, and I'm sure Professor Dumbledore will too."

"So I'm to have a hearing then?" Harry asked, not fully comprehending the conversation he'd just heard.

"No, Harry," Mr. Weasley responded somewhat irritated. "It's been ruled that you cast your spell in protection of another, and, since it was on your own premises, your efforts at... redecorating warranted a three-day wand suspension. I didn't think you'd take it so badly."

"But all the wizards... I thought--"

"I'm sorry I frightened you with so many Ministry members, but frankly, I was worried. We lost you for awhile and no one knew where you were. Then suddenly, plop, we could sense you again." Mr. Weasley found one of the game controls to Dudley's games, and his eyes lit for a moment, but then fell as he turned to look at Harry. "And, yes, I thought you ran -- only because you've done so in the past," he quickly added. He came over and sat back down at Harry's side. "You should know by now you can't run from family. You should ask Percy," he said with the first real smile he'd mustered since he arrived, and this time there was a warmth in Mr. Weasley's eyes that Harry could not resist.

"I didn't run. It's just... well, things happened so suddenly. I was gone, then back, and then there were the Dursleys, and the house was back to normal, and then you and the others. My... my mind's not on straight," Harry shrugged, rubbing his temples. "I'm sorry."

"Gone where, Harry?"

"If I told you 'hell and back', would you believe me?"

"Very well." Mr. Weasley sighed with disappointment in his breath. "Perhaps you'll explain it to Professor Dumbledore upon your return to Hogwarts." He stood and positioned himself to Disapparate. "Oh, and considering recent events, you may notice a few new neighbors about the street. They'll be gathering first thing in the morning to take you to the train. Gabriella, I'll see you Thursday, and as for you Harry, I'd like you to have this." He handed Harry a scroll. "Take care, both of you." With a snap he was gone. An instant later Uncle Vernon was strolling down the stairs.

"What?" he sputtered. "You're not off to jail?"

Harry had neither the energy, nor the inclination to argue. Something was to happen to Gabriella, and he needed to find out what, but not here. Cringing again, he stood, holding the scroll in his hand, and walked silently with Gabriella to the door.

"And where do you think you're going?" Vernon howled.

Harry simply looked back at him over his shoulder with a scowl. With one hand he slipped back his hair behind his ear revealing a dangling caduceus and his unblemished forehead. Vernon's eyes blinked with confusion as Harry opened the door, and stepped out. He was about to cross the street, when he thought of the Heart. "The stone!" Harry cried out. He turned to return to the house, when she grabbed his arm.

"I have it," she said reassuringly. "Come. I need to have a look at your back, and then we can talk."

When they entered her home, Grigor was, as always, absent. Soseh, however, was reading a magazine on the couch and greeted him warmly. "We missed you these last few days, Harry," she said with a gentle smile. "Have you not been feeling well? Gabriella wouldn't say."

"I'm going to have a look at him, Mama," Gabriella answered. "I think something to calm his nerves might be in order."

"Certainly, dear," said Soseh, standing and walking toward the kitchen. "Give me ten minutes."

Harry and Gabriella climbed the stairs and entered Gabriella's room, this time leaving the door open. Her cat was sleeping in the corner under a beam of sunlight that peeked through the window. When she saw Harry, she took to her feet and began to wind her way back and forth about his ankles.

"She belonged to my brother," Gabriella said sadly. She had Harry take off his shirt and lay down on her bed, when she pulled a wand from inside her sleeve. It was ash, about nine inches long, and had tiny engravings along its shaft, symbols that Harry didn't recognize.

"Whoa... what's that?" asked Harry, surprised.

"They really don't teach you much at that school of yours, do they?" she answered with a smug tone. Harry began to recoil a bit.

"Well, I mean, I know what it is, but I thought--"

"Lay down," she chided, pushing him back on his stomach. A blue light bathed his back, and there was instant relief. A touch rivaling Madame Pomfrey's, Harry thought. Still flat on his stomach, he unrolled his scroll.

"I don't believe it," he whispered.

"What is it," she asked, "papers for my hearing?"

"It's... it's a permission slip to leave Hogwarts on weekends, signed Arthur Weasley, Acting Minister of Magic." A pang of guilt twanged the inside of Harry's heart. He rolled the scroll and dropped his head on the pillow, letting Gabriella's wand wash the pain away. For a moment, Harry was lost in comfort. It was Gabriella who broke the silence.

"I've been a fool," she whispered. "Darkness covers the land, and I thought I could hide from it... pretend it didn't exist. If I would have had this with me, they wouldn't have taken you," she said solemnly, as waves of relief splashed against Harry's back. "They had the advantage of surprise, and I was bound, silenced, and tossed into the living room. It was over in a flash, but if I'd have had my wand, they would have never had the chance."

"Who? Who bound you?"

"Filthy beasts," she spat, reliving the memory. "You were right, Harry. It's too dangerous to be without a wand. I was an idiot for pretending I could be something I'm not."

Harry rolled over on his back to find Gabriella's eyes fixed in space. Her hand clenched her wand so tight that her knuckles were turning white. There was a tremor in her hand, and when Harry reached out to touch it Gabriella flinched.

"It's okay," he whispered. "I'm fine, really." She looked into his eyes, tears welling in her own, and hugged him tight.

"I thought the Phantom had sent them," she said breathlessly. "I thought they had taken you to him. I thought... I thought..." She squeezed tighter.

"Who, Gabriella?" he pleaded. "What beasts?" She pulled back, and broadly wiped the tears from her face with her arm. Her eyes turned to steel, filling with a hate Harry had never seen fully before; it scared him. Finally, she let him know with a voice that chilled him to the bone.

"Centaurs."

"Centaurs?"

"They should have all been destroyed after the last war! Where did they take you? How did you escape?"

"Escape? You have it wrong, Gabriella, at least I think you do. I... I didn't need to escape; they set me... they set my soul... free."