Canticum Novum

Chapter 9: Swing Low, Sweet Chariot

Swing low, sweet chariot,

Coming for to carry me home,

Swing low, sweet chariot,

Coming for to carry me home.

"Harry!" someone on the porch cried, but Harry didn't stop.

"Damn," Ron muttered, heading for the door. "No, you stay here," he added to Hermione, who had started to get up. "I'll talk to him first...it's going to overwhelm him if we're both there. I promise, I'll bring him back in one piece." With that, he was gone.

Harry hadn't gone far before Ron caught up with him. "Harry, wait," he called, hurrying up to his friend. "Please...I just need to..."

"Go away," Harry said in a low voice.

"Harry--" Ron began, putting a hand on Harry's shoulder, but to his surprise, Harry swung around violently and slugged him in the shoulder.

"Ow!" Ron yelped, backing off and clutching his shoulder. "Bloody hell, Harry, what was that for? I'm trying to talk to you!"

Harry stared at Ron in frank astonishment. "I...did that hurt?"

Ron gave his best friend an incredulous look. "Did that hurt? No, you just socked me hard enough to break the bloody bone is all. Of course it hurt. Did you think it wouldn't?"

Harry seemed to be having difficulty with his words. "If...if you were dead...it wouldn't have hurt."

Ron put his hands on Harry's shoulders. Harry flinched but didn't shy away. "But I'm not dead, Harry," he said softly. "Neither is Hermione. We came looking for you. We want you back in our lives, back in St. Mungo's and back home with us where you belong."

Harry swallowed. Several times. "Y-you mean...you really want me back?" he croaked.

"Harry. Of course we do. We wouldn't have come to get you if we didn't."

I looked over Jordan, and what did I see?

Coming for to carry me home,

A band of angels coming after me,

Coming for to carry me home.

Swing low, sweet chariot,

Coming for to carry me home,

Swing low, sweet chariot,

Coming for to carry me home

"How did you get up here?" Harry asked curiously. "Wait...you guys aren't badly hurt, are you?"

"Nah. We're--" Something tugged Ron hard for a second and he turned to see what it was, but there was nothing there and the sensation was gone as quickly as it had come. Turning back to Harry, he continued. "We're under a spell."

"Which one?" Harry asked suspiciously.

"Living Death."

"Ron, are you nuts?" Harry yelped, staring at his friend in genuine astonishment.

"It's a possibility I haven't ruled out yet."

"You two could both get killed!" Harry cried, as though he hadn't heard Ron. "What were you thinking?"

Ron shrugged. " I was thinking that if I didn't come, and Hermione came on her own--because believe me, Harry, if I hadn't joined her she would have--and got hurt or died, when you woke up, you'd blame me for letting her do this and letting her get hurt. And don't try and tell me you wouldn't have either--you would've been horribly upset and looking to blame someone. You'd start out blaming me and end up blaming yourself, which I absolutely couldn't let happen."

Harry bit his lip. Suddenly, he paled. "Ron...which one of you is casting the spell?"

"Neither, actually. I netted George into doing it. That way, it's perfectly legal and at least a little safer." Ron chuckled. "And if he hadn't, Hermione would have cast the spell on herself rather than give up."

"I'd have never let her do that."

"You weren't exactly capable of raising an objection, Harry. But while we're on the topic, she would have cast the spell for the same reason you would have forbidden her to."

"Why's that?"

Ron shrugged. "Because you love her. And she loves you."

Harry blinked. "Wh...what makes you say that?"

"Well, with you it's pretty obvious, at least to me. It's something in the way you act around her, the way you talk to her, the way you look at her. There's just something about the way you interact with her that tells me you love her. As for her?" Ron shook his head. "Well, first off, she told me she loved you, mainly because I pointed out to her that you love her. And second of all, she would have cast the spell on herself if she'd thought it was necessary."

Harry frowned. "So?"

Ron stared at Harry in astonishment. "Harry, it's the middle of summer vacation. We're not at school. It'd be a serious breach of the Decree for the Restriction of Underage Magic. Assuming she survived the spell, to perform it would be to risk expulsion."

"And...?"

Ron shook his head. "Come on, Harry. This is Hermione we're talking about. She knew full well that she'd get expelled for it. She told me, point-blank, that she'd rather be expelled and have you back than be back at school and have you dead. She wouldn't risk expulsion for anyone, you know. Certainly not for me. She really loves you, Harry, to the point that she'd give anything for you. Literally. She's risking her life for you, just as you've risked yours for her time and again." He hesitated. "I'm not trying to make you feel guilty or anything, really I'm not. But we aren't the only two people worried about you, who love you and want you back. When you...when you took a turn for the worse...Lupin couldn't handle it, he kind of snapped. The doctor told us he didn't know that you'd ever recover, and Lupin just...well, he ran. I was going to go after him, but Hermione wasn't there--I'd sent her down to the cafeteria to get something to eat--and I'll be damned if I was going to let some stranger who didn't know either one of you tell her what was going on, so I went to intercept her. I don't know how he is now."

Harry was pale as a sheet. "Oh, God," he whispered.

If you get there before I do,

Coming for to carry me home,

Tell all my friends I'm coming, too.

Coming for to carry me home.

Swing low, sweet chariot,

Coming for to carry me home,

Swing low, sweet chariot,

Coming for to carry me home.

Ron pushed back his bangs. "Harry, what did happen to you in there? Lupin said you were having real trouble stringing two words together, but less than twenty-four hours before that you talked in an almost continuous stream for ten, fifteen minutes. I know there's no medical explanation for that."

Harry swallowed and beckoned to his friend. The two boys sat on a stone bench under a spreading cherry tree, which was in bloom.

"This is really nice," Ron commented, looking up at the pink branches.

"Mum planted it. She was always good with plants." Harry dropped his head to his hands. "Ron...this is really hard for me to talk about."

"I understand," Ron said quickly. "Just tell me what I can do to help."

Harry swallowed. "At this point, I think...I think the best thing in the world you could do is just be here for me, listen to me talk. That's what I really need--someone I can talk to. Sirius and my parents are good to talk to and all that, but they really can't help me with this."

"I'm here for you, Harry," Ron assured him. "Go ahead."

Harry took a deep breath. "Ron...it was that Healer. Only..."

"Only she wasn't the real Healer," Ron guessed. "Is that it?"

Harry nodded. "It was...I'm pretty sure it was a Death Eater. And unless I'm wrong, and I don't think I am, I think it was Bellatrix Lestrange. She was...I'm not one hundred percent sure, but I think she was poisoning me. I always felt a hell of a lot worse after she left. When I collapsed--it was right after Remus saw me, right?" Ron nodded. "Well, that's when I knew for sure it was Bellatrix. She whipped out her wand and said in this sugary-sweet voice--probably for Remus's benefit, he was hardly out the door--'Let's get you healed, Dearie!' And then her voice took on this harsh, hard quality and she said, 'Lie still, you little brat...you'll be with my dear cousin and your beloved parents soon.' And then she cast this spell..." Harry shook his head.

"What was it?" Ron asked anxiously.

"Cruciatus," Harry answered a little bitterly. "I've been hit with it before, and usually I can handle it, but...well, I was definitely not in top form. That was her goal, of course--get me sick, weak, relatively helpless, then attack me and put me out of commission, permanently or not. I think...I think my mind shut down and came up here as a sort of self-defence. When I woke up--and I mean completely woke up--I was leaning on the front porch railing, more dead than alive."

"But still alive," Ron pointed out.

"Fortunately. I was damn lucky and I know it. I wasn't fully conscious when I headed down the path...I think, in some weird way, the road actually carried me here--somewhere it thought I would be loved." Harry lifted his face out of his hands and looked at Ron. Ron was amazed to see tears pouring down Harry's face. "Since then I've done nothing but try to get back to you guys, but the road won't let me. It keeps looping me back. It just got to be too much to handle, and when Salazar made that comment...I don't think he really meant it, but that doesn't mean it didn't hurt like hell. And that doesn't mean I didn't start to believe it. I just...lost myself. And then when I saw you in that kitchen, you and Hermione...I didn't dare let myself hope. I never imagined you'd risk so much for me--your lives, your Hogwarts careers--your mother's wrath, for that matter."

"I thought of that," Ron admitted. "But you know what, Harry? You're totally worth it."

I'm sometimes up and sometimes down,

Coming for to carry me home,

But still my soul feels heavenly bound,

Coming for to carry me home.

Swing low, sweet chariot,

Coming for to carry me home,

Swing low, sweet chariot,

Coming for to carry me home.

Harry shook his head. "I don't know what I've done to deserve friends like you guys."

"You're you, Harry. That's enough."

Harry managed a smile. "I never realised you could be so philosophical and introspective."

Ron shrugged. "Hermione's going nuts with worry. Someone's got to be the rational one and you weren't conscious enough to do it."

Harry shook his head. "You're one in a million, Ron."

"Yeah, like one pebble in a million diamonds."

"Even a million diamonds begin to look the same after a while. And pebbles are more useful than diamonds in a lot of ways. You don't have to hide a pebble."

Ron smiled. "Thanks, mate."

"I mean it." Harry stood. "What say you we--ARRGH!"

The sky suddenly opened up, quite literally. Neither one had even noticed it cloud over, but the rain started abruptly, dousing the two teens with huge raindrops.

"Maybe we should get inside," Harry yelled over the rain.

"Race you," Ron yelled back.

The two ran for Red House, laughing and racing one another, feeling generally like the carefree boys they ought to have been able to be, the boy Harry had never been and the boy Ron had left behind. Harry had trained better, but Ron was more physically fit, and in the end the two boys reached the kitchen door at the same time.

The brightest day that I can say,

Coming for to carry me home,

When Jesus washed my sins away,

Coming for to carry me home.

Swing low, sweet chariot,

Coming for to carry me home,

Swing low, sweet chariot,

Coming for to carry me home.

The kitchen, in sharp contrast to the outside "world", was warm and dry. Lily was stirring something on the stove. Cedric was setting the table. Sirius appeared to be telling some kind of amusing story.

"So I said to him, 'Fox you may smell and fox you may be, but I can tell your fortune in the water'. He just gave me this funny look and said, 'Okay, Black, spill it.' And I said, 'It is not fat rabbits I see, but a pack of hounds, and my enemy fleeing for his life.' Then I transformed into a dog and bit his ass."

"Sirius, watch your language," Lily scolded.

"Sorry, Lily," Sirius said sheepishly. "Anyway, that was the last time I had any trouble with him."

"Did he ever actually figure out what you were referring to, El-Ahrairah?" James teased.

"Not as far as I know. Thinking was not one of Jebadiah Fox's strong points."

Ron, who had tried shutting the door gently only to have it bounce open again, decided that slamming it was the best option and did so. Godric jumped about six feet and tumbled off his stool and to the floor with a clatter. "Ow! Blimey! Talk about a pain in the--"

"Godric,

" Lily said sharply.

James smiled at his son. "Welcome back, Harry...feeling better?"

"Loads," Harry said, exchanging a grin with Ron.

Godric chuckled. "I bet you and your buddy here have one of those stories you don't plan on telling us." He pushed himself to his feet and extended his hand. "I don't believe we've met. Godric Gryffindor."

"Ron Weasley. Charmed," Ron said, shaking Godric's hand.

"Oh, so you're the best mate we've heard so much about," Salazar said with a wicked grin. "Salazar Slytherin, atcher service."

"Nice to meet you."

James walked over to him and smiled. "It's nice to meet you, Ron. I've heard so much about you I almost feel like I already knew you, although that might have to do with the fact that you look like Bill. I'm James Potter, Harry's father."

"Nice to meet you too, sir," Ron said, shaking James's hand.

"Call me James. And have a seat, you two--lunch is almost ready."

"And if you think we're letting you go back in this downpour, you're crazy," Helga added.

Harry sat down next to Hermione and offered her a smile. "Sorry I ran out on you like that," he said softly. "I was...afraid when I saw you sitting here. I thought..."

"It's okay," Hermione whispered, reaching out and grasping his fingers tightly. "I was afraid when I saw you. I was afraid you wouldn't want to come back with us...I was afraid you'd be happier here."

"How could I be happy here when you aren't here?" Harry whispered back. Hermione turned slightly pink.

Lily put a large pot of pasta on the table and joined the crowd. "Who'd like to say grace?"