Family

Family

Chapter Fifteen
The Counter-Curse

Try as he might, Harry couldn’t remember much of what had happened after Hermione had spoken to him. As he closed his eyes now, he only saw the image of a red-haired girl lying lifelessly on her bed, pale as death, her freckles standing out in awful contrast to her skin.

As he recalled, he was shouting at her, willing her to wake up and not to yield. He had shaken her violently, touching her cold sweat in the process—then someone shoved him away, and they had levitated her to take her somewhere, and someone else restrained him from going with her.

Ginny had looked so much like the eleven-year-old girl he had found in the Chamber of Secrets three years ago—the girl who stood firm against Voldemort only to be defeated in the end. It seemed to be happening all over again.

Harry now buried his face in his shaking hands. How could she give up? he asked himself desperately. Why did she have to?

“Why didn’t you tell me all this sooner?”

Harry looked up at the owner of the grave, but intense voice. Dumbledore looked down at him, his blue eyes grim and equally intense.

When Harry saw Dumbledore in the fourth-year girls’ dormitory a while ago, all traces of hope ebbed away from his heart. For the first time in his life, Harry had seen terror filling the headmaster’s blue eyes. Presently, they were in a chamber near the hospital wing. Dumbledore had taken him there to talk to him privately.

Harry raked his fingers through his hair. “I didn’t want her to know that I was hurting too. She didn’t want it to happen to me.”

“You could have told me when we were alone.”

“I know. Professor, I thought I was strong enough for her...”

Harry choked up the last word. He felt the old waves of guilt coming back on him, strangling him that the words would not come. He buried his face in his hands once more.

Dumbledore reached out to place a hand on his shoulder firmly. “Harry,” he said softly, “don’t blame yourself.”

“Why couldn’t I?” Harry said hoarsely. “I wasn’t able to help her when she needed it. And even if we do dream about the counter-curse...she wouldn’t be...” His voice trailed off.

Dumbledore remained silent for a while. Harry had just told Dumbledore everything—about how he thought he had something to do with Ginny’s resilience against the curse. Harry now hated himself for not telling the headmaster sooner. Something could have been done if he only had—

Dumbledore took a deep breath. “Something about what you have just said made me realize something. There is no counter-curse, Harry.”

Harry’s head snapped up. He stared, bewildered, at the grim face of the headmaster. “What did you say?”

“There is no counter-curse,” Dumbledore repeated quietly.

Harry continued to stare. Dumbledore must be wrong. His parents wouldn’t fail him, ever—or would they?

“You do know that you’ve been helping her cope with the curse, don’t you?”

Harry nodded mutely. He was starting to see what Dumbledore meant.

“Remember what I told you about how the counter-curse will work? It will involve the transferral of energy from the strong person to the victim. You told me you have been sharing the pains Ginny felt. It has happened. You’ve done it, Harry.”

“But...how did I do it?” Harry asked slowly, looking down on his upturned palms. “I simply couldn’t...channel my energy to her without a connection—”

He stopped. His gaze fell on his father’s silver ring, at the stag engraved on it. Dumbledore looked at the ring as well, and the look of comprehension that dawned on the headmaster’s face confirmed Harry’s suspicions.

The connection.

Harry took a sharp intake of breath. There was no counter-curse—but he was already saving Ginny—through the wedding rings. From that moment he and Ginny unclasped the rings and put them on, they had been connected.

There was a spell in the rings—another spell, apart from the one that unclasped them from each other and the one that conjured the dreams. It was the spell that somehow transferred his energy to Ginny.

“The rings,” Harry whispered. “But...during all those times she was weak, I shared it with her...why don’t I feel weak now, when she’s...?”

Dumbledore looked at him for a long while before he spoke. “Perhaps it’s because she has stopped feeling the pain.”

“But that would mean she’s stopped fighting...”

“Perhaps she’s just waiting for what might happen next.”

Something in Dumbledore’s eyes told Harry what he could do. Harry had told Dumbledore and Sirius not too long ago that he would do what he had to.

He could save her.

It was her only chance.

His resolve firm, his hands no longer shaking, Harry stood up. “I’ll go talk to her,” he told Dumbledore.

“Harry.”

Dumbledore was looking at him differently now. “You know she doesn’t want you to....”

Harry knew what Dumbledore meant to say. “I know, Professor,” he said. “I don’t know how well my parents created the spell...but I’m putting all my trust on them.”

“I understand,” Dumbledore said quietly. “But—”

“I’m ready for anything,” Harry interrupted.

Dumbledore was gravely silent for some time again. Harry knew that Dumbledore didn’t want him to do it, and he didn’t want Ginny to die, either. Dumbledore, the man Harry always looked up to, was now torn between his two students. Harry could see Dumbledore’s eyes pleading, “let her go,” but at the same time they were saying, “please save her.”

Dumbledore took a deep breath. “You have the ring, Harry,” he whispered. “You have the choice.”

“I’ll do it.”

Dumbledore’s frown creased deeper into his forehead.

“Be careful,” he finally said.

Harry had no qualms about what was about to happen at all. It was perhaps the reason why he didn’t share Dumbledore’s desperate, pleading look, and why it didn’t matter to him that it was probably the last time he’d see the headmaster again.

Harry left the chamber, where Dumbledore remained. Taking a deep breath, he half-ran to the hospital wing.

Madam Pomfrey was so distressed that she didn’t comment at all when Harry entered. Ron and Hermione looked up as he did. A small, redheaded figure lay on the bed they were watching over.

“Harry,” Hermione whispered.

Both of his best friends’ eyes were bloodshot. Ron clung to Hermione; he looked as if he was about to break down.

Harry went straight to them, and to Ginny. He gazed at the girl who let him cry in her arms, made him laugh with her wit, and inspired him with her faith...now lying, unconscious, so pale and helpless. He touched her hand—none of the warmth Harry remembered was left now.

“Ginny,” he whispered. “It’s me.”

Ginny made no movement; there was only the rise and fall of her chest as she breathed—the only sign of life he could see in her.

“Please, listen,” Harry said. “You have to come back. We all need you. Ron, Hermione, Fred, George...Percy, Charlie and Bill...your parents...Dumbledore...”

Ron and Hermione watched him. Apart from Hermione’s soft sobs, they were silent.

“...And me.” Harry’s voice broke at this point. “I need you. Don’t give up. I need you to come back.”

Harry wasn’t quite sure if he imagined it or not, but he started to feel his heart beat laboriously faster. Then—this time, he was sure of it—Ginny’s hand began to grow warm.

“Ginny,” Harry whispered again. “Go on—please—don’t give up—I’m here, I want to help you—”

Harry’s muscles began to tense. He looked at his hand that held Ginny’s. The wedding rings—both of them—were glowing brighter with every passing second.

“Harry, what are you—” Ron started to say frantically.

“Let me help you,” Harry went on.

It all happened so suddenly. Harry felt something swallow him from deep within his heart. His surroundings seemed to fade into nothing...he looked down, and saw the image of Ginny’s pale face melt in front of his eyes...and Harry realized, he was fainting. Everything began to turn black.

But he knew it would all come to this. It was all for Ginny, and whatever happened to him didn’t seem to matter anymore.

He welcomed the darkness.

Then he heard someone singing from far off. It was Ginny. It was her sweet voice, singing to him...singing the first song he ever heard her sing...her voice was becoming louder and louder...

“You and I, we have moments left to share
You and I, we can make it anywhere
You and I, we belong in each other’s arms...”

* * *

“...There can be no other love
And I know we can have it all...forever....”

James stood at the foot of the stairs, listening to his wife sing to their sleeping son. Harry lay on Lily’s chest, his beautiful head resting on her shoulder as Lily swayed from side to side near the fireplace in the living room.

James watched for a long while. It should have been a tender moment, but James knew otherwise. Lily looked thinner and paler than she had been last week, and though her voice was still as beautiful as ever, her movements were somewhat halting.

They were staying for barely a week there in Godric’s Hollow. For all intents and purposes, the place was safe—the doors and windows, even the chimney were charmed, and one could not Apparate or Disapparate from the house. It could not be reached by Portkey or Floo Powder, either. There were ways to leave, but not to enter. But, safe or not, James had seen Lily fade before his eyes in such a short time.

And why not? The two of them knew the time was near. If there was a chance that they were going to get away, it was very, very slim. Nowadays, they lived for only one thing.

Their son.

Lily set Harry on the blanket she had laid on the sofa. Harry squirmed a bit. Lily hummed some more, until Harry lay still, unaware of what was really happening around him.

Though her back was turned to him, James could imagine perfectly the expression on her face. He could see her eyes in his mind—sad, painful, filled with tears. She sighed heavily, knelt on the floor and kissed Harry’s forehead.

James approached her. “Lily.”

Lily turned around. “Hey,” she whispered, standing up.

They met in the middle of the room. James placed his hands on her waist and kissed her delicately on her mouth. Then he trailed his lips on her cheek, to her ear, trailing soft kisses on them, until they finally rested in the thickness of her fragrant hair.

Lily breathed softly. She was limp and pliant in his arms. James held her closer. They stayed that way for a long time, with the crackling of the fire the only sound in the room. How James wished time could just stop right then and there...

“I think it’s working,” he finally murmured.

Lily looked up. James released her from his arms, and reached for something in his pockets.

It was their wedding rings, locked together. The emerald on Lily’s ring glowed in the firelight. James was suddenly struck by how the gem matched Lily’s eyes perfectly.

With a mere touch of Lily’s hand, the rings unclasped themselves. Lily took her ring and slipped it into her right ring finger. James did the same with his ring.

Lily gazed at both wedding bands. “Only Dumbledore knows of this spell, right?”

James nodded. “I just hope he’ll tell Harry...”

“He’ll know what to do...in case....” Lily’s voice trailed off. James knew exactly what she meant.

James and Lily had put the spell on the rings before they married two years ago. The rings were meant to be detached from one another only at the touch of the couple that the rings were meant for. They were going to be Harry’s when the time came, and would unclasp again when he met his future bride. The spell of the rings didn’t work on Divination and such—it only responded to the emotions between the two people holding the rings. It only worked with love.

When exactly the rings were going to be Harry’s, James and Lily weren’t sure. But they were prepared whenever the time came.

“How is Harry going to know about the other spell, James?” Lily quietly asked.

James smiled grimly. “I reckon he’ll have to figure that out by himself.” He sighed. “I just wish we could have worked the spell out sooner, and we could have told Sirius...”

“I know.”

“Lily.” He took her right hand and kissed the spot where her ring rested. “Don’t be afraid.”

“I’m not afraid. I’m just...worried for our son.”

James’s heart sank. It’s my fault, he thought. If it weren’t for me, Lily and Harry wouldn’t be here at all...

“I’m sorry,” he blurted out, looking away.

Lily stared at him, confused. “For what?”

“For...bringing you here.”

Lily continued to stare at him. Then, sighing, she placed her hands on either side of his face and looked deeply into his eyes.

“This was my choice, James,” she said softly, so that her breath grazed his lips like a warm breeze. “I’m willing to die because I love you and Harry with all my heart.”

James closed his eyes and let Lily stroke his cheeks with her soft hands. There were tears prickling in his eyes now; he took a deep breath and forced them away. But he wasn’t strong enough.

His wife, the strong one, brushed his tears away from his cheeks. James had to smile. “Where will I be without you, Lil?”

Lily touched her lips with his briefly. “That’s impossible,” she said against his lips. “I live for you, you know.”

“I love you,” James murmured. The truth, the gravity of what he had just said was never truer than when he said it at that moment.

Then he kissed her fiercely, with the passion and understanding that only existed between them. Lily kissed him back, and her kiss was just as desperate as his own, as though there was no time left in the world for them. James closed his eyes again and let his hands roam freely across his wife’s body. He longed to memorize her...to bring her with him into heaven....

Lily suddenly stiffened. James pulled his head back, surprised. Lily’s eyes were wide with terror.

Then he felt it too. A rush of cold air filled the room, and chilled him to the bones. Lily held his arm tightly, anticipating.

James slowly walked towards the window in front of the house. Taking a deep breath, he shifted the curtain, just slightly to see.

A tall, hooded, dark-cloaked figure was slowly walking across their front lawn. James drew a sharp intake of breath. It was...it was him. He knew this could happen...but they had expected Death Eaters...not him alone...

James stumbled backwards. He was frozen on the spot. In a nanosecond, a million questions whirled through his mind. Voldemort had found them. Where were Dumbledore, and Remus, and Sirius? And Peter—how did Voldemort know where he was hiding? What did he do to Peter? What was going to happen to his family?

His family.

Lily. And Harry.

“Lily, take Harry and go!” James yelled, pulling his wand out of his belt. “It’s him—I’ll hold him off—”

Lily scooped Harry up in her arms. But before she could take another step, they heard a chilling, high-pitched laughter that made James and Lily shudder.

James ran to his wife, embraced her intensely, and kissed Harry. He inhaled, committing the baby scent into his memory.

It was getting colder in the room. “Go,” he said weakly.

Lily’s eyes were filled with tears. “James—”

“Go.”

Be safe, James prayed as he stood in front of the living room door, wand at the ready. He forced his eyes not to fall on his family’s retreating figures. He knew it would only break his heart. He couldn’t afford to be so emotional—not now.

The door burst open.

No one—apart from the Death Eaters—lived to tell what Voldemort looked like. And he looked more terrible than the rumors. With red eyes, a white, snakelike face and slits for a nose, Voldemort was the vilest thing James had laid eyes on. Fear shook him for a while, until Voldemort curled what was left of his lips to a sneer and spoke.

“Potter.”

James pointed his wand at Voldemort’s heart—if there had ever been one in his chest. His hand was steady. “What do you want?”

Voldemort’s smile widened, becoming even fouler. “So they were correct, after all,” he scorned. “James Potter is indeed the bravest person in Dumbledore’s forces.”

“Get out, Voldemort,” James spat, knowing that he had to stall for time, to let Lily get away with Harry.

Voldemort observed James with those lifeless, cruel eyes. “I wonder,” he said, “if you’ll still be that brave once I’m through with your son...”

“Don’t you dare come near my family,” James said, his voice shaking out of intense anger and the beginnings of fear.

James could see that Voldemort meant to do it—and quickly. “We’ll see,” he said. He raised his chin up—it looked as though he was sniffing the air. “They’re still here—they haven’t escaped yet, it seems.”

James ground his teeth together. This is it, he thought, gripping his wand tighter. Lily—Harry—be safe—

Voldemort had raised his wand. “Avada—”

“EXPELLIARMUS!” James bellowed.

“—Kedavra!”

An invisible force made James stagger backward. In a rush, James saw Lily in front of his eyes—her lovely, smiling face, with Harry in her arms. They were smiling at him. He saw Sirius, grinning at him as he handed him the Marauder’s Map and mouthing, “Mission accomplished!” He saw Remus, shaking his hand when James received his Head Boy badge. He saw Peter, nodding shakily when he agreed to be the Secret-Keeper. He saw Dumbledore, smiling at him like a grandfather when James told him about Harry...

...And his beautiful son was there again, cooing and giggling in Lily’s arms—James could smell Harry’s scent—his son and his wife were waving at him—they were waving goodbye—they were going to be all right—

The ring slipped off James’s finger, but he never felt it. For darkness had already devoured him, and James Potter knew no more.

* * *

Harry Potter opened his eyes wearily, and instantly squinted at the harsh sunlight that streamed through the windows of the hospital wing. It was afternoon, it seemed.

Harry tried to stand up, but found that he was already on his feet. He blinked a few times and looked around him. A few people were huddled around two beds. They looked frantic. Frowning, Harry approached them. No one seemed to hear him.

He squeezed through a gap between two persons in the huddle to see who was on the bed. Strangely, he slipped through very easily.

His eyes fell on the person lying on the bed, and his jaw dropped open.

It was...it was him. The boy on the bed was pale,unconscious—almost...almost...dead—

Harry stepped backward, stunned and suddenly scared.

“It’s no use,” a female voice spoke. It was Madam Pomfrey—but her voice sounded rather distant. “His pulse is weak...it’s getting even weaker, Professor.”

“He can’t,” a choked voice, also distant, replied. Harry was surprised to see that it was Dumbledore, looking panicked. Harry had never seen him like that before. “Harry—fight—I know you’re still there—”

Then it struck him. He seemed to be floating around, like a ghost—no, not a ghost, for they’d still be able to see him if he was one. He was...like a spirit...it looked as though he was nearing death....

“Fight, Harry,” a different female voice whimpered, and this one sounded familiar. And she was standing right in front of him, with her back turned to him. The tall boy beside her slipped an arm around her shoulders and let her sob on his chest. In all the confusion, Harry didn’t realize that he had squeezed through Ron and Hermione.

“She’s coming to,” someone from the huddle around the other bed said. It was George, holding the hand of...the person on the bed. And he suddenly realized—it was Ginny—and this was all about her.

The events of the day rushed back to Harry. Ginny had slipped into a coma because of the counter-curse. He had transferred his energy to her—

—And that was the reason why he—the other he—was lying there, unconscious.

Dumbledore approached the other bed, followed by Ron and Hermione. Harry managed to squeeze through again, and he saw Ginny on the bed, unconscious, but breathing heavily and muttering.

“Not Harry—please—”

“She’s dreaming,” Dumbledore said quietly, his gaze falling on something on Ginny’s hand—something glowing. It was the emerald ring.

Harry looked at his own hand. He was wearing his father’s ring, and it was glowing orange.

Ginny gave an audible gasp. Then, she gave a violent jerk, and her eyes flew wide open as she cried, “Harry!”

“Ginny,” Fred and George said together in relief. Harry felt the same—a huge weight was suddenly lifted off his chest. Ginny was going to live.

But Ginny didn’t look relieved at all. She tried to sit up. “Harry—where is he—is he okay? Where’s James?”

Everyone looked at her, perplexed. “James? James Potter?” Madam Pomfrey asked out loud.

Dumbledore let out a weary sigh. “Please calm her a bit,” he told Fred and George quietly. He put a hand on Ginny’s shoulder, and said to her, “You’ve had a rough day.”

Ginny knotted her forehead at the headmaster’s words. Then it seemed as if a veil was lifted from her face as she remembered where she was. She gasped. “I-I’m sorry—I was—what happened?”

“Harry did it,” Dumbledore said softly. But he was speaking to Ron and Hermione.

“Did—what?” asked Ron, his voice shaking.

“The transferring of energy, Ron,” Dumbledore explained. “He used the spell placed on his parents’ rings to cure her of the curse. He...he gave his life to her.”

Hermione gripped Ron’s arm tightly. “But—what about—”

“Don’t tell me he’s going to die,” Ron whispered.

Dumbledore looked pained. “I...do not know. I just pray that he won’t give up so easily....”

Give up? Harry thought. How was he going to give up?

Or go back, for that matter? He was only a spirit now. What could he do?

He looked back at Ginny. She had calmed down. It seemed as if they hadn’t yet told her about his sacrifice.

Harry moved closer to where Ginny lay. He saw her face, filled with concern for him, although she couldn’t even see him on the other bed. The very idea of him saving her, it seemed, worried her.

“Harry.”

Harry suddenly froze.

He would know that voice anywhere. He had heard her scream whenever Dementors were near. He had heard her when she somehow materialized from Voldemort’s wand last year. He had heard her...in his dreams. There was a sudden painful tugging in his heart.

He turned around—and saw them.

His parents.

Lily and James Potter stood not far from him, a misty sort of white light surrounding everything about them. It looked as though the hospital wing had suddenly faded away. If Harry took a few steps forward, he could reach them. And oh, how badly he wanted to reach them....

They were holding hands. His mother gazed at him lovingly. She was how she had always looked in his dreams—with dark, red hair, glittering green eyes, heart-shaped face, and that sweet smile...

And his father. Dad. They were right—everyone was right—his father looked...just like him. Only taller. And his eyes were brown—grayish, even. There was a look in them that Harry had seen many times before on others’ eyes, but those eyes were never turned to him.

It was a fatherly look. Harry had always hungered for it, and now, here was his father—his own father—looking at him that way.

His father smiled at him. “Hello, son.”

Son. Oh, how beautiful the word sounded. Harry was suddenly overcome by emotions he couldn’t sort out. Unable to speak, Harry swallowed the lump in his throat and started to walk towards his parents.

“Harry—please don’t come any closer,” his mother said.

Harry stopped. Why not? he thought. He only wanted to be with them—hold them, for the first time in his entire life.

“You can’t come with us,” his father told him, as if reading his mind. “At least, not yet.”

“What do you mean, Dad?” Harry asked. Dad. He was actually addressing his own father.

“It’s not yet time,” his father went on. “You have a long, happy life ahead of you.”

“We made sure of that,” his mother added. She looked at his hand. “You’ve figured it out, it seems.”

Harry held his hand up, where his ring—his father’s ring—continued to glow.

“We didn’t get to make a proper counter-curse,” his mother went on. “But the rings create the same effect, as you have seen. It will transfer energy to the other person wearing it if she is physically weak. And like the spell that unclasped the rings, this spell only works when there are positive emotions between those two people.”

His father grinned, a bit mischievously. “You and Ginny Weasley use them pretty well.”

Harry broke into a smile himself. “You’ve been watching us, haven’t you?”

“Of course we have,” his mother told him kindly. “Always—from up there.” She looked upward, to the heavens.

Harry felt that he could talk to them forever. “So what do you think about her?”

His father gave him a thumbs-up. “Great choice.”

Harry actually laughed out loud. His dad was cool.

His father slipped an arm around his mother’s waist. Harry’s grin faded; it suddenly occurred to him that this was probably the last time he’d be able to talk to his family for a long, long while.

“Harry,” his father began, “Ginny needs you. You’ve seen how she’s feeling now, haven’t you? She’ll be miserable if you leave. All your efforts to save her will be for nothing if she lives an unhappy life, right?”

“The spells on the rings gave us the assurance that you’ll have a wonderful life ahead of you,” his mother said. “We want you to have the family you used to have in us, Harry.”

Harry nodded silently. They knew—somehow, they knew that he had always longed for a family. And they assured that he would have one. They didn’t only give him protection, after all.

“I always think of you, you know,” Harry managed to croak out.

His mother’s eyes filled with tears. “Yes,” she whispered. “We know.”

“I love you both,” Harry whispered back.

His father gave him that fatherly look again—it was a look of pride and powerful love. Harry reveled in it in that single moment. “We love you too, son.”

Harry nodded once more. Tears had sprung into his eyes, and he blinked them away. He looked at his parents for a long while, and imagined himself running to them, embracing them. All his life, he had prayed for a moment like that.

But his parents had something else more wonderful in store for him. That life would be with Ginny Weasley. And Harry knew it would be wonderful.

“’Bye, Mum,” Harry said. “Dad.”

“Goodbye,” they both whispered.

“And thanks...for everything....”

It was then that Harry felt himself falling. His white surroundings gradually diminished. His parents faded before his very eyes. They were waving at him...that was the last thing he remembered....

Harry closed his eyes, and waited. He was going back. And Harry knew that everything would be all right.