Harry Potter and the Burden of Becoming

Harry Potter and the Burden of Becoming

Chapter 69 - Sacrifice

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Harry tried to scream, but immobilized all he could do was look past the wrinkled face of Anaxarete before him and up at the stone walls. They were gray and roughly hewn, but glowed white with the magic of the anti-Apparation charm Grigor had placed on them, a charm that only allowed family to pass. Harry's mind fumbled trying to understand what was happening. How was Emma family? He forced himself not to look at her face and focused on the ceiling above. The last time Harry was here, he never noticed the gargoyles that lined the high walls. But then he never really looked up at the ceiling, seeing as how at the time he was being chased by Death Eaters. The stone creatures seemed to be watching, waiting with anticipation. On his back, his eyes open wide, he couldn't help but consider that these creatures, these stones here were old, very old. He was frightened and the sickeningly sweet voice of the aged Emma Slate was making things worse. It was as if she'd been through a time machine, her body and her voice had aged by at least forty years in the span of five months. If that rate continued, she'd most certainly be dead by summer.

"I promise, Harry," she said reassuringly, "it will only hurt for a moment, and then you and I will be together forever." Harry could feel her breath against his cheek. "It should have been you all along, darling." She sat up next to him on the dais patting his leg, and then sighed. "But I found Duncan first. Imbecile," she snapped darkly, "he couldn't even take his own life properly." Her voice softened again. "Do you know how many have killed themselves for me, Harry?" She asked the question like someone bragging about how wealthy they were. "I'm certain you would have died for me and, if it hadn't been for Gabriella, I think I would have chosen you instead. It must seem very strange to realize my sist-sis," she halted, "your girlfriend is a witch. I'd call myself that too, but I'm so much more, and soon we can share that together." She continued to gently stroke his cheek. Harry wanted to scream, to cry out, but he couldn't even twitch.

"Ana," said Grigor impatiently, "we haven't much time."

"Yes, I know," she answered. "The Lord will meet the Lady tonight. But I won't rush this like last time." Harry saw a flash of anger flare in her eyes as she turned to face Grigor. "If you would have been there, none of this would have been necessary!"

"As you well know, my Lady, I didn't realize your advanced stage," he replied with deference, but Harry noted an undertone of irritation as if this had been repeated for the millionth time. Anaxarete may have noted it too because her next words were aimed more at Grigor than at Harry.

"You must understand, darling," she said stroking Harry's arms and looking into his eyes, "Grigor and I go way back. It was I that encouraged him to come to Al Bsahri, and it was I that welcomed him and Soseh to the school. If the poor man had half the skills as his wife..." She let loose a long forlorn sigh. "I was there at the birth of both their children. Our families were close, until An-Antreas..." she seemed to choke on the word and the pleasantness of her features grew hard. Quickly, however, she recomposed herself. "...until Antreas was of age to join Al Bsahri. Suddenly, Grigor became a stranger and no longer were I and my husband allowed to visit the Darbinyan family. I thought, perhaps, he didn't want his son to grow up in the Dark Arts; many foolish wizards make such mistakes."

"My Lady," said Grigor with an overly sweet tone, "you know I would never--"

"I KNOW NOW!" she shrieked, her scream bouncing off the walls. Harry felt her fingers clenching his arm, her nails gouging at is flesh. Still, he could not so much as whimper. Grigor stepped forward.

"And my daughter?" he asked, or offered. "It was she that--"

"Yes," interrupted Anaxarete. "But when Gabriella came to Al Bsahri, a school-first made possible because of ME," she said pointedly, "I knew it was something else." She shifted uneasily upon the dais.

"As the years of separation passed," Anaxarete continued, "years of growth for the young Darbinyan boy, Antreas unfortunately faded from my memory. He was never spoken of, not even by Gabriella, and my thoughts were focused elsewhere. The wrinkles you now see on my face began to appear and my hair began to thin. It was time for the joining." Her eyes left Harry's for a moment and again her features hardened. "Never send boys to do a woman's job!

"I was failing far too quickly, and the ceremony was hurried, although the timing with the rise of the Dark Lord was fortuitous. I would once again be in my prime, and I would take his side, or his power." These words were spoken as if she thought, perhaps, she would defeat Voldemort, if it were necessary. Something about her presence suggested she might win that battle.

"They found a Muggle boy that had wandered onto the school grounds. Yes, Harry, a Muggle. It always has to be a Muggle; someone like yourself with no magical ability at all. It makes it so much easier, you'll see. They laid him next to me, and I must admit, I thought the eyes familiar, but nothing more. I have often been to the markets of Tripoli, and perhaps our paths had crossed. He was not as young as I would have liked, but still he would do." Anaxarete brought herself up above Harry.

"I should have been there," whispered Grigor sadly, but Anaxarete either did not hear him, or took no notice. She stood upon the dais as if to give herself a more foreboding figure, and the breeze rushing from the curtain causing her robes to billow afforded her the look she wanted.

"Imagine my surprise," she cried out, her voice ringing off the walls, "when I discovered the vessel I was taking was not that of a Muggle, but a wizard!" Again, she was looking at Harry, but clearly speaking to Grigor. "Do you know what it feels like to have someone fighting your every move, thwarting your every thought? The boy's punishment was to watch the deaths of his Muggle friends, but still he would not yield. So we left Lebanon in search of more fertile ground. Well, Harry, you can see what it's done to my figure." She smiled, stroking her stringy hair back with her hands, and what was a moment ago a battery of fine teeth showed one or two missing.

"Knowing of the return and rise of Voldemort, I came to Britain, but the Darbinyan family followed me... followed Antreas." She let out a sickly laugh. "Keep your friends close, but keep your enemies closer, eh, Grigor?" She sat back down next to Harry. "But we're not enemies, are we Grigor? I had planned on using that pathetic excuse for a Muggle, Duncan, as an appropriate substitute. It was Grigor, here, who thought you'd make a better vessel. Get rid of the Muggle his daughter had fallen for, while providing me with another hundred years." She leaned down awkwardly over Harry. "I always sensed you had the stronger energy. That's why Gabriella fell for you."

"I've been waiting patiently to fully reveal myself to the Dark Lord. I've sent him messages telling of my deeds, but never coming before his presence with a squib as a vessel. When I mentioned to him that I was killing you tonight he seemed eager to be here, but I told him he must wait till it was finished. I can't imagine his interest, Harry, but the secret ritual is not for his eyes. It is for our people only, isn't it Grigor?" Her voice was smug, superior.

"Yes, my Lady," answered Grigor quietly.

Harry's eyes were filled with pure venom. He wondered what Voldemort would say hearing that he was not worthy to see the ceremony she was about to perform. Here was the witch that had caused so much grief around Europe. She nearly cost one friend his life and had killed another, and the thought that Gabriella's father was in it with her was almost more than he could bear. But why, he thought, did Grigor go through all the antics of helping Duncan, of working with Tonks to release Sirius, if his plan had been to give Anaxarete Harry's body, or life force, or whatever it was that was about to happen to him? Harry saw Grigor jump up onto the dais.

"Here, my dear," he said, "let me help you." Grigor maneuvered around Harry to Anaxarete who stood between Harry and the veil. She was bent down stroking Harry's face, and Harry saw the wrinkles continue to deepen into large creases upon her face. He'd been wrong; at this rate she'd be dead within a week. "We really must hurry," Grigor continued. "He will arrive soon."

"Yes, yes," said Anaxarete, looking very tired as she stroked Harry's arm. Suddenly, her eyes caught a glimpse of the scar on Harry's arm just as Grigor innocently held out his hand to offer support. It was an innocent gesture, but one that Harry had just seen. His heart skipped. The aging witch blinked as if her eyes were not focusing properly, and then leaned over against that hand preparing to sit next to Harry. But she never had the chance. In the time it takes a Doxy to seize an incompetent wizard's wand, Grigor had twisted Anaxarete about. She reached for her wand, but too late. Her body plunged through the veil with a look of shock and surprise on her face, reminiscent of the look Sirius held in his eyes before he too was lost to the other side. At the same instant, Harry noted a flash of blue light that filled the room, not something he had seen when Sirius fell.

Harry's eyes widened with astonishment. It had been a ruse all along! Had Tonks known? His heart was jumping for joy waiting to be released by Grigor. The wizard jumped to the floor and slapped his hands against each other as if washing them from the filth he'd just touched.

"First things first," he said hurriedly. "Asha, I thought she'd never shut up." He moved over to Harry's side and quickly arranged the instruments next to him. "Sorry I didn't have more time to explain, Harry." Again, Harry waited to be released, but the release never came. "As I said, I need a Muggle who's really a wizard. I suppose I could have gathered two, but you were just too perfect a fit. I'm sure Gabriella will approve when she has her brother back." He leaned over and patted Harry on the face. "We all make sacrifices, Harry, and it's not like you'll be dead." Again he arranged everything at Harry's side like Hermione preparing to tackle one of Snape's more difficult potions.

The key to futures past and present

Depends on wit and wile

Blend the three and turn the key

Use wisdom for the dial

Harry could hear the Black key slide into the basin and click into place. The runes were then selected as the gears spun tick after tick.

Liquid of life that springs eternal

From birth of light to death infernal

Welled from source of endless magic

To bring back those whose loss was tragic

Out of the corner of his eye, Harry saw Grigor pour what looked like about a quart of the water from the vial Harry had. He put the cap back on, and slipped it into the breast pocket of Harry's robes. "Keep it safe, son," he said softly. "We may find another use for it later." Grigor turned to the flask of blood, lifted it carefully and slowly poured it in.

Liquid of life that courses pure

Split in spite without a cure

Yet saved from death by hated foe

Who stopped the ebb and staved the flow

"Soon, Antreas," he shouted at the curtain, "I shall hold you in my arms again!"

"Hold who in your arms, Papa?"

Hearing her voice, Harry's bodied prickled, and at the same time he saw Grigor spin nearly knocking the basin of blood over.

"Gabriella!" he cried in shock, and then said something sharply in Armenian that Harry couldn't understand.

"No, Papa," she answered, drawing nearer, "he didn't want me here. I read his thoughts. Harry's emotions were just beneath the surface tonight."

Grigor cursed, and said something more.

"No, Papa," she said calmly once again, "I put it down once before. I think I'll hold it in my hand. It would be the prudent thing, don't you think?"

Harry still could not move to see Gabriella, but he knew she was drawing nearer, wand drawn.

"Why is Harry--" she began, but Grigor cut her off.

"This is for Antreas!" he cried. "I can bring him back to us, Gabriella!"

"That's not possible, Papa."

"Yes it is!" snapped Grigor. "But I need a vessel for your brother's spirit... and Harry's it."

"My brother was murdered!" snapped Gabriella.

"HE WAS TAKEN!" screamed Grigor viciously. "He was swallowed whole like Jonah by the whale and I'm going to make her spit him back out!" He turned from his daughter and the dials began to spin.

Liquid of life in molten state

Cast to let its brethren mate

Spin the lock and turn the key

To let our captured allies free

There was high pitched whirring sound as the dial of runes began to spin. Then it stopped and clicked into place.

"Then let Harry go!" she cried.

"I can't," yelled Grigor, consumed by the action of the basin. "I won't lose him again." There was a burst of red light that shot high over Grigor's head. "Never again."

"Papa, you're not making sense," Gabriella said, her voice quavering. "Please, stop."

"Gabriella, your brother's spirit was taken by Anaxarete. I tracked her to London and have been waiting for her to weaken. It was only a matter of time. This... this curtain I have always known about. I have thrown Ana and your brother to the other side, and in that realm their spirits have been freed from each other. Harry here serves two purposes. First, with the willing assistance of Nymphadora, he brought us the tools and the ingredients we need to free those from beyond." He turned and looked down on the still immobilized Harry. "I think your dear friend suspected I was serving Voldemort. But she was too eager to bring her cousin back, always blaming herself for not killing the witch that killed him." Grigor's face grew grim. "I know all to well that sense of guilt."

The key to futures past and present

Depends on wit and wile

Blend the three and turn the key

Use wisdom for the dial

"But, Papa--"

"We can release the spirits from beyond! We can release your brother!" A thin mist began to roil up from the basin. "Those that passed through last, return first. It is likely that Anaxarete, the stronger of the two, will hold tight to the corporeal vessel the two shared. If so, your brother may emerge in spirit only. That's what we need Harry for."

"Papa, no!"

Select the mark to throw them hence

Select the mark to keep them

Select the mark to bring them whence

the darkness now doth steep them

"The mark is set for their return," he whispered in eager anticipation. Then he looked into Harry's eyes once again. "Wouldn't you give your own body to bring back her brother?" Then he turned to Gabriella. "The body is but a shell, dearest daughter. Antreas will take this shell and, with the spell, form it to his will. Harry will become the brother you knew just before he was taken." He turned back to Harry. "Of course, Harry, you'll have to be near death when he arrives... weak enough for him to take control." Grigor pulled out his wand. "Welcome to the family, my son."

A blast of red light filled the room and Grigor slammed head long into the stone dais. A gash of blood ran down his face and into his eye. He blinked reaching up and spinning the last rune into place.

Set the mark before the brew

to slay the ignorance once thought true.

Then as the three mix into one,

and breathe the mist through which they'll come,

spirit, soul, and purity,

protect yourself from enmity.

Grigor fell to the floor out of Harry's sight. "Daughter," he whispered weakly, "be prepared if Antreas is not the first." Harry heard the clatter of Grigor's wand fall to the floor.

A great golden mist began to roil up out of the basin above Harry's head. It was being slowly drawn toward the veil and clung to it slowly creeping its way to the top of the archway. It looked as if someone had taken the veil and dipped it in gold. Gabriella rushed to the dais, grabbed her father's wand, and leaned upon Harry kissing him hard.

"Are you okay?" she asked, but Harry couldn't move. "Oh, sorry." She stepped back and released him from the hex. Harry sat upright and pulled her close.

"We need to go," he breathed.

"You can't leave, Harry," said Grigor slyly. "Only family may pass, in or out."

Suddenly, there was a great rushing of wind that emanated from the curtain. Harry looked up. The band of golden mist had reached the top of the archway. He slipped down from the dais, Gabriella in his arms, and together they backed away from the veil until their backs hit the stone wall. A great stench filled the room... the smell of death.

"Wands ready!" cried Harry.

A shadow filled the frame of the archway and hung there for what seemed to be an eternity. Slowly, it coalesced into the figure of Anaxarete. Her form was whole, corporeal, but her appearance was more skeletal than human. Only a few strands of gray hair hung down from her balding head. Her face was pulled back and sunken and the skin on her arms seemed to be peeling away. In her hand, however, was a wand, and in her eyes a piercing green flame. She looked to the dais and finding it empty scanned the room. She stepped out onto the stone slab, her toes nothing but bones, and found Harry huddled with Gabriella against the wall. A smile appeared upon her face revealing that no teeth remained.

She was ready to kill Harry, to take his vessel for her own, when she saw it in his hand -- eleven inches of holly. There was a look of confusion in her eyes, and then a fury flamed bright.

"NO!" she cried in a low guttural breath. She looked about and found Grigor, glaring back up at her, a look of victory on his face.

Anaxarete's piercing eyes raged like emeralds burning green. When she raised her wand, both Harry and Gabriella responded casting spells directly at her. She deflected Harry's, but Gabriella's hit true. It knocked her off the dais and onto the stone floor next to Grigor. There was a tremendous snap as her left leg split in two. The flame in her eyes dimmed, but the hatred remained. She flicked her wand one last time and this time a blast of green light streamed from the stick of wood clutched in her bony fingers. It struck Grigor in the chest, and he cried out in agony.

"Feel the pain," the hag gasped, "before you die." She tried to strengthen the spell, only it was too much for her; whatever life force she had remaining was spent. The green light faded and died. She tried to heave another gasp of air, but as she did her entire body began to crumble in on itself. She withered and died like a fallen flower until all that was left was a pile of powder that was blown away by another gust of breeze from beyond the veil.

Gabriella burst from Harry's arms and ran to her father.

"Papa!" she cried, leaning down at his side. Grigor turned and looked up at her. Harry was shocked that he was still breathing. Here truly was an amazing wizard, and if he had but half the skill of Soseh.... Gabriella held her hands to her father's face and closed her eyes. She would try to heal him, Harry knew, but she winced and pulled away. Her body shuddered and she began to cry.

"No, my daughter," he breathed, and then Grigor looked up at Harry. "I won't have to kill you now, my son." His breath was thin and faint. "We have another vessel." A look of fierce determination filled his eyes. "We can use me." Harry stood in astonishment as Grigor turned himself to his knees and lifted up to the dais. Reaching with a quivering hand he reset the dial on the basin and collapsed back onto the floor.

"I believe," Grigor wheezed, "this is yours." He reached into his pocket and tried to hand something to Harry, but his hand fell to the floor. From his fingers rolled a brilliant red ball of stone flecked in glittering gold... the Heart of Asha.

"The stone!" Harry cried, and he snapped it up instantly. Having healed Tonks, he knew he would be unable to help Grigor on his own, but with the stone there was hope; with the stone....

"I can use this!" exclaimed Harry. "I can save you, Grigor!" Gabriella's father was too weak to even look back up at Harry, but gave a small laugh.

"No... no you can't," he said and then gently smiled. "It is forbidden."

"But--" Harry began, but Gabriella grabbed his arm and shook her head. Her eyes were overflowing with sadness. Reluctantly, Harry gently slipped the stone into his robes, into a deep and hidden pocket where slept a small puff of fur that Harry had taken to carrying with him over the last few weeks -- in case of an emergency. With Grigor's last ounce of strength he touched his daughter's face and smiled a tremendously warm smile that put to rest any fear she may have once had that he would never smile at her again.

"Tell, Mama, I'll always be near, listening to her stories, and breathing in the wonderful aroma of the dolmas." He coughed and then said desperately, "Gabriella, you know the spell!"

"Papa, I can't."

"You must," he commanded, and then his hands fell limp to his sides. "Otherwise... you lose us both... forever." A breeze from the veil blew Gabriella's black hair across her face and into her wet eyes. She and Harry looked up to see the curtain flutter as a wisp of white emerged through its golden sheen.

At first it looked like a ghost, but held more substance than Sir Nicholas. The form was that of a young man, his face concerned. When he saw Gabriella the expression brightened and he glided closer, but then he saw his father and his face fell. Gabriella looked frightened, not certain what to do. Harry stood behind her and gently touched her shoulders as they looked up at the spirit of her brother.

"Save him," he whispered, "if you can."

Gabriella wiped her face with her sleeve and nodded in agreement. Trembling, she held up her hands and began a chant in a tongue Harry had never heard before. Her voice grew louder and stronger with every verse and he saw a blue glow appear about her fingers; the trembling vanished. He heard her invoke the name of Asha, as she pointed her wand at her father and the glow of her hands traveled down the shaft of ash while the small engravings on its side suddenly flashed a brilliant white. A swirl of glowing blue mist spun in towards Grigor's chest.

"The Joining!" she cried out, and then, "Antreas Darbinyan!" The spirit that was her brother seemed to be caught up in the swirl, spinning inward toward their father. She held her wand steady as the blast of blue penetrated her father's chest and with it Antreas' life force. "Good bye, Papa," her voice cracked. She shuddered, the blue light extinguished, and she fell backward into Harry's arms. The golden curtain still fluttered in the breeze as the two watched the transformation take place.

The features of the man crumpled before them began to change. His wrinkles thinned and his hair darkened. The bags under his eyes disappeared and the veins that were raised on the back of his hands vanished. He became the very figure of the specter they had just seen float out from the curtain -- Gabriella's brother, Antreas. Harry was stunned as the young man opened his eyes. They were a brilliant azure blue and had a penetrating kindness behind them. There was another burst of air from beyond the veil.

"Sirius!" Harry cried. He stood up at the dais and ensured that the basin's ring of runes was set in the correct position; all was perfect. His heart began to race with anticipation. Again the golden sheet became translucent, revealing the faint outline of a figure just behind. Harry looked at the top of the archway in eager anticipation when he noticed the white glow on the ceiling above begin to recede. Past the gargoyles, the gray of the walls poured down against the white on either side as if an enormous bucket of paint had been poured on top, slowly sliding down the stones. The white mist that was floating on the floors evaporated away.

"No," Harry whispered to himself. He looked down and saw Gabriella hugging her brother. Harry's hands flat against the top of the dais, the figure through the veil grew slightly more distinct, but still he could not make out its features. It had to be Sirius... it had to. Harry looked at the walls again. "No," he repeated as a wave of nausea filled his insides. He clenched his teeth in anger. "Not now!" There was no scar on his forehead burning into his brain; there didn't need to be. Harry knew all too well what was about to happen... Voldemort was coming.