Harry Potter and the Burden of Becoming

Harry Potter and the Burden of Becoming

Chapter 59 - A New Game

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"Portkey? Why do we have to travel by Portkey?" Harry hated the feeling of his intestines being pulled inside out, and if he was to demonstrate his skills as a flyer, he didn't need the extra disorientation that flying by Portkey would bring. "Can't we just fly?" Everyone looked at him askew, as though he'd just released a rather loud belch. "I mean, it's only fifty miles and--"

"I know your broom will get you there in fifteen minutes just as warm as a pigeon, but the rest of us aren't so fortunate," scolded Tonks. "We travel together, and we travel by Portkey." She had been listening to Harry's complaint over and over for the last half hour, and this time placed added finality to her words.

It was a small group: two flyers (Harry and Ron), two guards (Tonks and Shacklebolt), and two guests. Ron had selected Hermione. Harry briefly considered inviting Draco as a sort of peace offering, but later reconsidered and instead chose Cho. She had been spending a lot more time with Anthony Goldstein lately, and Harry took some delight in knowing that Anthony would have to sit back and watch as Harry took Cho to see professional Quidditch players the Saturday before Valentine's. Of the six, only Hermione seemed to be nervous. She sidestepped over to Harry.

"Do you think it's wise that Tonks--"

"Hermione," he said, sharply cutting her off. "I think you'll find Tonks more than capable." Harry had always been defensive of Tonks, but over the last hour as they prepared to go he was exceptionally acerbic.

"Very well, everyone," Shacklebolt said in a firm voice. "Just as... er, Professor Tonks said, we travel together. Nobody leaves my sight when we arrive. That includes you as well, Professor." He pointed at Tonks.

"Understood," she nodded. "Birds of a feather..."

"Then on three..."

A moment later they were all being yanked by their navels, and soon found themselves landing in the dressing room of the Montrose Magpies. Corry Pembroke, a star Chaser for the Magpies, was lacing up his flying boots. He was dressed in black and white Quidditch robes, and as they arrived he looked up for but a moment flashing dark green eyes and a dark moustache but no smile and then returned to his laces. Standing by the lockers was Terrence Tellman wearing a broad, perhaps Cheshire-like, smile.

"That's him," Tonks whispered in Harry's ear. Harry nodded and took Cho by the arm.

"Welcome! Welcome!" Tellman called to the group as they each regained their balance.

"Cho I'd like you to meet Terrence Tellman," said Harry. "One of greatest Seekers of all time, next to you of course."

"You play?" Tellman asked graciously. Cho nodded, turning four shades of red, suddenly unable to find words in her mouth. The man was larger than life, literally. Towering over her he said, "Then perhaps you'd like to be the one to take this back to Hogwarts." He handed her a black Snitch, perhaps made of ebony, with the names of the players inscribed in small white script. When she took it from his hands it was heavier than she expected.

"Fantastic!" she breathed, turning about to show the others.

"Brilliant," Tonks said, admiring the ebon orb.

"Harry, Ron, are you ready?" Tellman asked.

"Let's go!" called Ron, beaming. Harry was a bit more hesitant, but circled to follow Ron. As he did so, he walked straight into Pembroke who was hunched over tying the final knot. Harry flipped over Pembroke's back, knocked over his broom with a clatter, but somehow managed to land on his feet.

"Quick moves, Harry, if a bit clumsy." Tellman grinned, as Pembroke took to his feet.

"I'm used to it," Harry muttered, awkwardly adjusting his glasses as he followed the group to the exit.

They opened the doors to a brilliant green pitch. The stadium was enormous, with stands twice as high as those at Hogwarts. Tonks immediately recognized Alasdair Maddock who was flying about the rings at the south end of the pitch, tossing one Quaffle after another into the air only to bat them into the rings with his broom. A large, burly man flew over to meet the group. His hair was bright red, and he wore something akin to referee robes. As he drew near, Ron leaned over to Harry.

"It's Bennegin," he whispered, "the Magpie's coach." Harry nodded, but appeared to be more concerned with the skies above the pitch than the large man swooping in. Hermione, for her part, was focused completely on Tonks.

"These the two, Tellman?" Bennegin asked with a big, booming voice. His face was red, worn from years of flying in the open air. His eyes were a brilliant blue and while at a distance he was certainly intimidating, up close, his wide white smile made him appear more like a great uncle. This was going to be fun.

"Yes, sir," Tellman said smartly. "Fresh in from Hogwarts." Tellman introduced Harry and Ron, as well as their guests and the two bodyguards. His introductions were more stiff than they needed to be, and his eyes kept darting over to Pembroke now mounting his broom.

"Well," Coach Bennegin, began, "let's start with some simple Quaffle passes. I know you're a Seeker, Harry, but I'd like to see your skill on that Caduceus of yours. We're still flying modified Firebolts, and I've heard mixed reactions from some of the other players in the league. Fast, but not agile." Harry nodded, looking nervously at Tonks, who shrugged and gave him an encouraging smile.

"You'll be fine, Harry," she said. "Just have fun."

Ron, on the other hand was clearly distraught. His broom was agile enough to guard the rings, but it had no speed to compete with what was flying out on the pitch. Coach Bennegin picked up on the emotion instantly, and was already a step ahead. "Weasley," he said, "you'll stay at Keeper. That's your strength and that's where the team is the thinnest. I think at this point, as long as you don't fall off your broom, you're better than the last three blokes we've had through our locker room."

It wasn't long before they were airborne. Cho and Hermione joined Shacklebolt in the box seats at center pitch, while Tonks flew watch high above the others. Hermione didn't understand this since Shacklebolt was the better flyer. She tried to have the two switch roles, but they were having none of it, particularly Tonks.

As play started, it was evident that Ron was having the time of his life. He had blocked the first four attempts on goal. One was a nasty pass from Tellman to Maddock, who tried striking the Quaffle with his broom as he had practiced earlier. While Ron stopped the score, the speed of the Quaffle knocked him backwards into the post of the left ring. It took him a moment to clear his head, but at least he stayed on his broom.

"Well done, Weasley!" Coach Bennegin yelled out from just above. He was flying back and forth across the pitch following everywhere the Quaffle went. "Absolutely brilliant! You were right, Tellman! He's a mind reader!"

The sky was azure blue, the wind was still, and the afternoon sun put just enough warmth in the air that Harry garnered no advantage from the elements with his Caduceus. Unfortunately, he was not faring nearly as well as Ron. His play was conservative and stilted, as if it had been years since he had even touched a Quaffle.

"Come on, Harry!" Ron yelled, trying to cheer Harry on as he darted for a loose Quaffle after an errant pass from Tellman to Maddock. The broom responded, but Harry's timing was off, overshooting the falling ball by some three feet. Bennegin, while often yelling about the poor flying of his own players, never said a word about Harry's. Even Hermione could tell it was the worst flying she'd seen on a Quidditch pitch, except perhaps for last year's Gryffindor team under Umbridge's rule.

An hour passed, and Bennegin raised his wand, which emitted a high-pitched squeal. The team flew down to the center of the pitch to take a break. Cho, Hermione, and Shacklebolt were invited to meet the team and get autographs. Cho was clearly the most eager, although even Shacklebolt had a thin grin at the corners of his mouth as Maddock took a quill and signed his name on a portrait they had of the team.

Tellman disappeared for a moment and returned with one of the team assistants. They were levitating a large cooler of lemonade and some snacks. Hermione was wary of the offer, but as Tellman took the first bite followed by Shacklebolt without any ill effects, she soon acquiesced. After a few moments of light conversation, and some coaching points given by Bennegin, everyone had snacked except Harry and Tonks.

"Go ahead, Harry," said Tellman, offering him a cup of lemonade. "You're having a rough go of it out there today. Bit nervous?" Harry nodded his head as he stepped toward Tellman. As he did so he moved his broom from his right hand to his left and reached for the cup just as his broom slipped between his feet and tripped him. He lunged forward, splashing the cup all over Tellman's robes and falling into the table of food, causing it to crash to the ground. The cooler flipped on its side spraying more lemonade over Tellman's boots and saturating the ground. The Magpie professional tried to step backwards, but slipped in the sour mud and fell to the ground on his hind side. His expression was one of fury. Instantly, he had his wand to the ready.

Shacklebolt was the first to react. He had his wand out before Tellman, but Pembroke, standing to the rear by the stands, cast the first spell.

"Resurrectio Dormis!" he called. The effect was instantaneous. Everyone who had sipped the lemonade reached for their heads, rolled their eyes upward, and fell to the ground. Everyone, that is, except Pembroke and Tellman. Harry was trying to get to his feet and gather his wand from beneath his flying robes as he heard Tonks run past him.

"No!" she yelled, readying her wand at Pembroke. She sent a blazing stunner that struck him squarely in the chest and threw him backward some ten feet against the stone pillars of the stands. A bolt of green light flew just past her head. It came from the right, and as she turned she caught sight of the team assistant. There was another behind him, and in a flash she had expelled both their wands. She spun to take on Tellman, but stopped short. The tall wizard had gathered Harry in his arms and held his wand directly at his temple.

"He said he wanted him alive," the oversized wizard whispered with an almost mechanical voice. "But dead's good too. I'm sure he won't mind too much." A surreal smile split his lips and showed a toothy grin as if the thought of murder was amusing in some way. "Drop your wand and you can both live." Tellman's large left hand reached about Harry's throat and he began to lift him like a rag doll. Harry gurgled as the wizard squeezed tighter. "Well?" he queried in a high pitched note. The other two had now gathered their wands. The first fired a stunner, but Tonks deflected it with ease sending it back in their general direction and forcing them to take cover. It was three-on-one, and they wisely hesitated to take on the Auror again.

Tonks' eyes grew narrow, and a thin smile curled at the corners of her lips. It was a look of pure satisfaction. For an instant Tellman looked confused. It was he who was in control. She was clearly outnumbered, but the look on the young woman before him registered something quite different.

"I think, Harry," she said in a deepening tone, "your time has come. Don't you?"

And then something more strange happened. Harry, his feet now fully off the ground, nodded as best he could, and then with a snap Disapparated. Tellman found himself gripping thin air; for an instant he searched about to see where the boy had gotten to.

"He couldn't have gone far," he sputtered, now wand to wand with Tonks, his fingers trembling having lost his prey. "They said he couldn't Apparate, they said--"

"Oh, but he can't." Tonks smiled, sending off a stunner toward the two assistants peaking about the corner. One ducked in time, the other was not so fortunate. With a twist, her wand was back on Tellman who was still scanning the pitch and stands for Harry.

"He's got to be here!" he yelled, now becoming nervous.

"He is here," Tonks said, almost laughing.

A moment later there was a tremendous red flash, and then the air began to fill with the sound of popping popcorn. Wizard after wizard was Apparating onto the pitch and above it on brooms. In the span of ten seconds, over two-dozen wizards had appeared and more were still snapping in.

"Where were you taking him?" Tonks called out to Tellman. The large wizard began to tremble with fear. "Was it by Portkey?" His eyes left the sky and settled on Tonks. Slowly he shook his head, his eyes wide. "By broom?" Silence. Wizards were running toward them, but Tonks held her wand steady. "Damn it, tell me where!" A blast of red light lit up the stones from where the last assistant stood. He flew out screaming, his clothes on fire. Someone had attacked him from behind. Tonks extinguished the flames, as he fell to the ground unconscious. Tellman waved his wand, but nothing happened. "You can't Apparate, Tellman. Dumbledore's here by now and he's secured the area. He's a Legilimens, so you best speak now and avoid the pain." As if trying to fight the urge, Tellman's hand began to shake violently and then the words came in little more than a whisper that pierced his lips.

"Resurrectio Mortis."

He doubled over, screaming in agony, and then fell limp into the grass. No sooner had he slumped to the sod, Harry appeared from behind the stands where the assistants were hiding. Two steps behind him was Professor Dumbledore. The professor quickly called to Tonks.

"Are you alright, child?" he asked. He was at her side in a flash and put his hands on both her shoulders, looking intently into her eyes.

"Very well, sir" she replied. "But Tellman... I think he's dead."

Professor Dumbledore reached into his pocket, and pulled out a small green ball not much bigger than a marble. No sooner had he whispered something, than the red glow faded from over the stadium and Madame Pomfrey appeared.

"Is it Harry?" she asked with concern.

"I'm afraid, Poppy," the blue-eyed wizard said with a grim look, "the young man there has poisoned himself. It might not be too late, if you hurry."

"Wait!" Tonks exclaimed, as if suddenly remembering something forgotten. "Let me. I can--" But Professor Dumbledore grabbed her by the arm.

"I'm afraid I can't let you do that... under the circumstances," he said in a very controlled and stern voice. "You've spent far too much energy already, I'm afraid. And I know you haven't prepared." Dumbledore looked closely into Tonks' eyes. "Am I not correct?" Tonks dropped her head. Madame Pomfrey bent low to Tellman and the pair vanished. The other co-conspirators were rounded up by the rather large collection of wizards, a number of whom were Aurors, and brought before Dumbledore. He looked briefly into each of their eyes, and shook his head. "They know nothing. It would be best to take them to St. Mungo's, and let Arthur try his magic."

"What about..." Tonks began, pointing at Shacklebolt and the others still fallen on the grass.

"Patience," Dumbledore interrupted. "They are asleep, that is all, and we have one more thing to take care of I believe before they wake. Follow me." Harry and Tonks followed Professor Dumbledore behind the black and white stands of the Magpie stadium. They were alone, but still he cast a shield charm that enveloped the threesome in a large cloak of invisibility. He looked at Tonks. "Harry, if you wouldn't mind returning."

She removed her shoes, and unbuttoned her robe. Beneath the invisibility shield, Tonks began to grow taller and fuller. Her short hair began to grow longer and darken. A moment later, where once stood Tonks now stood Harry, looking at his twin.

"And now you, Nymphadora." The old man smiled at the other Harry.

The transformation was much quicker, and ended with Tonks standing in baggy Quidditch robes with the addition of flaming bright red hair.

"Is it too much?" She grinned, pulling at her locks and they all laughed.

"A fine plan, if I do say so myself, Harry," admired Dumbledore. "Although I now know who needs some flying lessons," he chided Tonks with a grin. The two swapped clothes and emerged from behind the stands just as their friends were being brought back to consciousness.

"Harry!" Cho called, nearly pushing the healer attending to her over, and rushing to Harry's side. "They said you were okay, but..." She squeezed him tight. "What happened?"

"Later," he whispered, hugging her back.

"Well," said Bennegin in a very apologetic voice as he walked toward Professor Dumbledore and held out his hand. "That's the last time I question the Headmaster of Hogwarts." Dumbledore took his hand with a gracious smile and the two shook firmly.

"I can understand your hesitation, Bernard," said Dumbledore. "Tellman has always been one to wear the colours on his sleeve. Still, the Imperius Curse can control the most loyal minds, even to death." Bennegin sighed, and shook his head. The Magpie coached looked at Harry, as if he was trying to read the boy's mind.

"So, is this..." he asked.

"Bernard Bennegin," Dumbledore said in a grand formal voice. "Let me introduce you to Harry Potter. THE Harry Potter."

"Pleasure to meet you, sir," Harry said kindly, and the two shook.

"But you met him over an hour ago!" said Ron, blinking his eyes as he stood.

Bennegin just smiled at the redhead. "Listen, lad," he said putting his arm about Harry's shoulder and slowly walking a few steps away from the others. "Perhaps this summer, you might find some time to try this again. Only no stunners and nobody has to die. What do you say?"

"And Ron?" Harry asked quietly.

"If he keeps up like he has, he'll write his own ticket to whatever team he wants to join. But..." he paused.

"Yes?"

"Well, I promised his dad that I'd wait until after he graduates." He paused again, shaking his head. "I think the Minister's wife has been in touch with every team in the British and Irish League, warning them to let her son graduate." They both turned back to the group where each was sharing their recent experience with Dumbledore. "You know, Ron," Bennegin said in a booming voice. "You're as brilliant as your brothers. I offered them both positions as Beaters last year when I heard they'd flown the coop. They turned me down flat to start that business of theirs, and now... well, now they make more money than even Maddock with all his endorsements combined."

"Harry, what happened?" asked Hermione, walking over and rubbing her face.

"I'm afraid," Professor Dumbledore said, "further questions will have to wait until our return." He scanned about and settled on the cooler of lemonade now emptied onto the grass. "Portus," he whispered, and levitated the orange cylinder into the air. "Nymphadora, I understand you and Shacklebolt will be reporting to the Minister?"

"Yes, sir," she said. "I'll return to Hogwarts later this evening. Kingsley will--"

"Kingsley will be taking a well deserved nap at home tonight," interrupted Shacklebolt with a smile.

"Very well," Dumbledore nodded. "Everyone, please gather around."

Harry waved goodbye at Bennegin just as he was yanked back to Hogwarts.

Together they all walked up the stone steps to the front door of Hogwarts castle and entered. It was strange. Everything was as they had left it. Clearly, no word had gotten out of what had happened. Cho kissed Harry on the cheek as they returned to their respective common rooms to prepare for dinner. "I can't believe I slept through the whole fight." She sighed. "I'm glad you're okay," she added with concern, and then she smiled. "Gabriella would kill me if I let you die." She started down the hall and turned back one last time. "It's a shame they didn't want you on the team, but your flying was bloody awful today."

Harry just nodded and shrugged his shoulders. He started on down the corridor to Gryffindor tower with Ron and Hermione. The two young lovers had taken to open signs of affection now. Ron's arm was about Hermione's shoulders and he held her close.

"I wouldn't have let them hurt you, Hermione," the redhead said, puffing out his chest.

"Ron!" she retorted pinching his side. "You were asleep too. You wouldn't have been able to save a fly."

"Well, maybe the ones he was sleeping on," tossed in Harry. Ron just sulked as Harry grinned, but the grin didn't last long. It was only a few more steps before it began.

"Harry," Hermione said with a questioning tone, "you still haven't said how--"

"Well, it was Tellman and his lackeys against me and Tonks, only Tellman had me by the neck... his wand pointed at my skull. I figured I was dead, but Tonks saved my life."

The idea of Tonks working against the motives of Voldemort was clearly disconcerting to Hermione. She'd been down this path with Harry already, trying to get him to realize that Tonks was a threat. But with Harry's new information, her position had only grown weaker. Unfortunately, it had run contrary to everything she had observed, and heard, and that included things that Harry knew nothing of.

"Well," she began begrudgingly, "I think that's great. She's certainly a talented Auror taking on three or four wizards while you were at the death-point of one of them." There was a moment of silence after Ron uh-hummed in agreement. They were at the portrait of the Fat Lady. "You don't suppose she was just hoping that he'd 'pull-the-trigger' do you?"

"SHE... SAVED... MY... LIFE," Harry said slowly, deliberately, and loud enough that when they entered the common room, everyone was looking their way.

"Well?" Ginny yelled, seeing them enter. "What happened? Ron? Are you a professional?" Her face was beaming in anticipation, but she could tell at once that Ron was not thoroughly pleased with the day's outcome. The youngest Weasley, however, was wise enough to understand Harry's expression, which had quickly moved from exasperation with Hermione to a sense of achievement.

Indeed, Harry had accomplished great feats today. Working with Dumbledore, he and Tonks had fended off an early attempt of Voldemort to strike back, even though Dumbledore had questioned if it was really Voldemort's idea at all, or perhaps the whim of a misguided loyalist. Still, they had gone in prepared, and they had won the battle. This time it was Harry providing the surprise, and there was something deeply satisfying in knowing he had been a step ahead.

The second most enjoyable aspect of the day's events was that Tonks had deftly come to Harry's aid and helped to save the day. Even Dumbledore questioned the wisdom in Harry's idea to depend on Tonks, but the only way to pull the switch off was to have both Harry and Tonks use their skills, although Harry wished they could have practiced on the Caduceus more. It was his fervent hope that this demonstration of loyalty would keep Hermione off Harry's shoulder every time he went to speak with Tonks. Harry was convinced that this was why she had stopped talking about rescuing Sirius. With Hermione a few steps back, he and Tonks might have room to solve the puzzle.

Finally, there was some pleasure in knowing that his good friend, Ron, was well on his way to playing professional Quidditch. He wondered if he should tell him, but chose instead to whisper it to Ginny. She immediately began to squeal, and Harry's attempts to calm her down failed miserably.

"You swore you wouldn't tell, right?" Harry asked, confirming the oath she had just taken. Ginny looked as if she'd just been hexed with itching powder, or a fire curse the way she was waving her hands and hopping on her feet. Finally, she nodded in agreement boring a slanted eye right at Ron.

"What?" he asked. "What did he say?" He turned to his friend. "What is it, Harry? What did you tell her?"

Hermione, whose instincts were far more in tune than Ron, wore a thin smile. "Go get cleaned up for dinner," she said pushing him up the stairs. Ginny was still trying to contain herself.

"I can't believe it. I can't believe it."

"Believe what?" Ron yelled, stepping backwards up the steps.

Harry grabbed Ron by the arm and pulled him on up the stairs. "Come on, Ron," he said. "Some things are best left to personal discovery."

"Then it's about me?"

"Yes. Yes," said Harry with a smile. "It's all about you."

They climbed the stairs and Ron pulled off his shirt giving it a deep sniff. "I think I'll skip the shower and just rest," he said, flopping down on his bed.

"Rest?" asked Harry in disbelief. Ron just folded his hands behind his head and closed his eyes. "Okay," Harry said with a shrug. "I'll just be a minute." He grabbed a towel and headed for the lavatory.

As he stood in the shower, letting the warm water run down his lengthening hair, his own mind questioned Tonks' motives. Much like Soseh, Hermione was rarely wrong. If Tonks had been under Voldemort's Imperius curse, surely she would have taken action to capture him today. He had agreed with Dumbledore to plan for that contingency, but fortunately never had to implement the plan. Perhaps Voldemort's loss of energy had weakened the spell. Perhaps there was no conspiracy. Perhaps she was working for someone else. But like the water swirling down into the drain, his mind was once again drawn toward the solution of the puzzle, a thirst building to find a way to rescue Sirius.

If only he could figure out what the other ingredient was. They could save Sirius, and be done with it. He let the nozzle spray him fully in the face one last time, and with a simple incantation turned it off. The water dripped from the shower head and plinked onto the floor with a high pitched tone that echoed against the stone walls. The shower room was quiet except for the small drip-drip-drip that, in the silence, grew louder with every drop.

He was drying off as Lloyd Wade, Neville Longbottom, and a third year Harry didn't know very well, all entered the showers and turned them on at the same time. The sudden contrast in sounds was remarkable, and for some reason the roar of the water hurt Harry's ears. It had been so quiet, but this... this reminded him of--

Suddenly, Harry's hands began to tremble, and his pulse quickened with excitement. He had to lean against the wall to steady himself. He was feeling very light headed at the moment.

"Come on, Harry!" Ron called from the distance. "I'm getting hungry." Harry took a deep breath.

"Coming!" he yelled back down the corridor.

By the time they arrived for dinner, the story of the attack had spread through the school. Everyone was asking Harry what had happened, but he was more than happy that Ron was telling the tale, even though he'd slept through the whole thing. Harry's mind was elsewhere. It had left concern of Voldemort behind. It had floated far a field from worrying about Gabriella. It had dismissed, outright, trepidation of the path forward.

Only Hermione noticed Harry's unusual preoccupation with his drink at dinner. He gazed intently at it, turning the liquid in his hand, examining every feature of the contents as if he'd discovered the Holy Grail in an ordinary glass of water.