The War of Shades

Epilogue Chapter 6 Green Angel

Amy Bodkin lay back in the hospital bed, struggling to draw breath and watching her mother pack what things they had brought to make Amy's stay more comfortable. Amy was 11 and unlikely to reach 12. She was small for her age, robbed of the vitality which should have been hers but for the cystic fibrosis that clogged her lungs. She knew why her mother kept her back turned to her: Amy was being sent home, because the health service needed the bed for someone who could be helped. Amy's lungs had been too badly infected too many times, so she was being taken off the transplant lists and sent home to die. Her father was elsewhere in the hospital taking care of paperwork. Her mother tried to hide her sniffling but Amy knew what was happening.

"Mum, ... it's going ... to be ... okay," wheezed Amy shallowly.

Her mother barely nodded and kept her face averted.

"Miracles ... can happen; ... I know it," said Amy.

"Amy," said her mother quietly, "I'm afraid the opportunities for miracles have run out. You know we're taking you home. The doctors can't do anything else."

"But Mum ... where ... there's life, ... there's hope. ... Will you ... pray ... for a ... miracle?"

Amy's mother nodded, as she squeezed her eyes shut.

"I'll be ... alright ... awhile here, ..." wheezed Amy as her mother shut the suitcase, "Go to ... the chapel, ... Mum, and ... pray ... for me; ... maybe ... the Green Angel ... will come ... for me."

Her mother lowered her head. Ever since they had entered the community of families with chronically-ill and life-threatened children, they had heard the stories of the Green Angel. For some twenty or more years now, families would report miraculous recoveries after the doctors had given up. The children who were healed sometimes did not recall anything, but others reported an angel dressed in green appearing to heal them. They said he spoke to them gently and told them to close their eyes and pray; when they did, they felt their entire bodies healing. Most of the parents discounted the stories, at least until their child was beyond medical help. Then their prayers took on a desperation that would grasp at any hope.

"Alright, Amy," said her mother, looking fondly at her precious child through wet, reddened eyes. "I'll be right back."

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"Aunt Ginny!" squealed Constance Lupin. "I'm so glad you could make it for the christening. Did the whole family make it?

Constance was the oldest child of Ron and Hermione Weasley, married to Ted Lupin, oldest son and third child of Remus and 'Tonks' Lupin (she still refused to allow her given name to be used).

Ginny hesitated, and Constance knew something was up immediately.

"Uncle Harry?"

"He'll be here, and the rest of the family is here except James - he had too many obligations to leave Peru," explained Ginny. "Harry had an emergency."

Constance was obviously disappointed. "He always does, doesn't he? He's my uncle and godfather, and Mum and Dad's best friend - you'd think he could make an exception for my first child's christening."

"He'll be here," reassured Ginny again. "Hasn't he always made it to your important events?"

"I suppose, but it's often apparating in at the last minute," pouted Constance. "It's kind of distracting having that sudden crack just as something's about to start. Sometimes I've wondered if he doesn't do it to attract attention - 'Everyone look in awe - the Great Harry Potter has now arrived, late as always!'"

"I know how it seems, dear. I used to be upset at how his duties took him away at all times."

"Oh, it's fine for you to say, Aunt Ginny! He comes back and you two go off to knock boots!"

"Constance! How ..."

"Oh, Aunt Ginny, I figured it out halfway through my teens. He gets back from healing someone, starts hugging and kissing you, and in no time, you two have disappeared for an hour or two. Your oldest kids have joked about it for years but it took me awhile to catch on."

Ginny smiled. "The healing is very hard on him. It helps him continue if there's a healthy dose of sweetness to go along with the bitter." Then Ginny smiled and winked mischievously. "I'm just trying to do my part."

Constance laughed. "Yeah, right, Auntie. You're no martyr - you're getting loving regularly and don't mind one bit. It's a wonder you two haven't had more than six children."

Ginny's cheeks suddenly blushed.

"Oh, Aunt Ginny," said Constance, "another!?"

"Let me tell the family. You and I are the only ones who know so far. They'll be so happy. I think. You know your uncle had always been rather jealous of the family your Dad and I grew up in. I think he always wanted to recreate as much of that as possible. Wizarding families often have significant fertility problems, so we didn't know if that would be possible."

"No wonder the old established families didn't treat us Weasleys as real purebloods," laughed Constance. "We seem to have got the fertility thing licked."

"Constance, come with me. I think I can make you understand about your uncle."

Ginny led Constance over to the bassinet where baby Sirius was napping.

"Isn't he perfect?"

Constance could hardly disagree.

"If he were threatened, what would you do to save him?" asked Ginny.

"Oh, Aunt Ginny, don't be tragic. I'd do anything for Sirius."

"Of course you would. Now understand: somewhere, where your uncle is, is a mother who has been looking over her child with the same love you feel for Sirius. But that child is threatened, and he or she will die, unless your uncle does what only he can do."

"But ... he doesn't even know them. Why should he step in?"

"We don't see it that way. We see all the people in need as God's children, all deserving of love and help. When he first started seeking out dying children to heal, he ran himself ragged. And me, too," Ginny added with a wink. "He had to learn to pace himself. He thought he could heal all of them, but it was overwhelming. It still breaks his heart that he has to simply let so many young people die. But understand, part of what makes him the man he is, is that he learned to look at all people with the same degree of care and affection that you feel for Sirius."

"He ... feels that strongly and still has to let many of them die? That's awful. He doesn't talk about that."

"No. There are only a few people who hear him unburden himself of those feelings. You and I and everyone else who can't do anything about the suffering just learn to close our eyes to it. 'That's life,' we can say. Harry doesn't have that excuse. That's one of the reasons that your parents and he and I went into business making potions available to muggles. We have to call the potions by other names, but as long as we prove they work, we can sell them and cut way back on the healings that Harry needs to do. Still there are more than enough conditions that can't be remedied by either muggle medicine or wizard potion. As often as he can, Uncle Harry visits to do what no medicine can."

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As she so often did, Amy drifted on the edge of sleep, torn between the body's desperate demand for deep slumber and the struggle with her lungs to take in sufficient oxygen. Suddenly she awoke with a start. She sensed that someone was there as she fumbled for the cord with the light switch.

"Who's there?" she wheezed.

"Hello, Amy. Don't panic," said Harry in his most fatherly tone.

She found the switch and turned on the light. Harry shielded his eyes against the glare, as Amy squinted while her eyes adjusted too. Then she saw a man of indeterminate age standing a few feet from the side of her bed in green robes. She got very excited.

"You've come. ... I knew ... the Green ... Angel ... would come," she gasped.

Harry smiled. "Well, yes and no. I have been called that for some time now, but I'm no angel."

"Does that ... mean you ... aren't ... here to ... heal me?"

"No, Amy, that's exactly why I'm here. But I'm a man, in most ways like any other. Healing is just something I've been blessed with. That and the knowledge that it is a blessing."

"If ... you're a ... man, then ... why the ... green robes?"

"My adoptive mother says they go nicely with my eyes."

"I didn't ... mean ... the color," she objected, then noticed his smile and twinkling eyes and knew that was all the answer she would get. "What ... should I ... do?"

"Just rest. Close your eyes and pray, if you'd like. I'll take care of things."

"Will it ... hurt?"

Harry looked at her sadly. "No, you won't feel any pain. But you might find the sensation of properly working lungs unusual. Ready?"

"Oh, yes!" Amy nodded and closed her eyes.

Harry smiled. He thought of his own precious children, his many nieces and nephews, and finally of all the children of the world, then brought his focus and loving attention down to this one before him. The green glow arose and bathed her body. He saw that she began to smile as her breath became less labored. At the same time, Harry's own breathing became much more difficult as his lungs became matted with scars and adhesions and what little space was left filled with fluid. There was no mistaking it - he was drowning. The fluid in his lungs was taking up all the space where fresh air should have come in. His body screamed for him to panic, to put a stop to this, by whatever means possible, but his mind persisted and fought back the panic instinct as it had so many times before. He fell to his knees, as Amy's smile broadened to an ecstatic glee and her eyes opened. Suddenly her face turned to horror as she saw the distress Harry was in. He started to tumble but caught himself on the edge of the bed. Before he could lose consciousness, his lungs started to clear. He breathed shallowly at first, and as the healing proceeded he breather deeper and deeper until he felt restored.

"Angel, what happened?" asked Amy, more concerned now with him than with her own condition.

Harry smiled. "I don't actually heal the sickness in you. I move it from you to me and heal it in my body. You were very, very sick, so I became very, very sick."

She placed her hand on his cheek in sympathy. "Oh! You have stubble. I didn't think angels needed to shave."

"I told you I'm not an angel," said Harry with bemusement.

"Say what you will," said Amy, "but I don't remember the last time I breathed properly and now I can. You seem enough like an angel to me."

"Makes sense to me: I've come to understand that this talent of mine is simply God at work. I'm just the lucky one he chose to work through."

"Lucky!? You collapsed from taking my CF from me. How is that lucky?"

"Because I can help people who need it," said Harry.

"But it hurts you - why would you do such a thing?"

"Because I can - 'May as well be a mensch.' I have to be going now. I have a grand nephew having his christening. Give your parents this card," said Harry, handing her what looked like a typical business card. Then he disapparated.

Amy burst into the hospital chapel with an exuberance very rarely seen in the sedate subdued light of that room. She was laughing and dancing and threw her arms around her mother's neck.

"Amy, how did you come all this way!?"

"Mummy, I RAN! It felt wonderful. I want to do it more! I never want to stop! I want to run and dance and sing and laugh and ..." She started to cry and hugged her mother again.

"Darling, you're breathing - what happened?"

"Mummy, he came! The Green Angel came! He took the cystic fibrosis from me. Listen, oh Mummy, listen to me breathe!" Amy panted, not as she had before from shortness of breath but deeply, from the exertion of her running and excitement.

"Amy, it's the most beautiful sound in the world. I didn't want to say it, but I didn't think he was real. I thought it was just a story told to keep kids' hopes up. But the proof is right before me. What was he like?"

"He was neither tall nor short. He was thin and had messy black hair with bits of gray and marvelous green eyes. They were so gentle. He seemed like he was Daddy's age, but then at times he seemed younger and at others much, much older. His face had stubble. Oh, and he had a nasty-looking scar on his forehead."

"An angel, with stubble and a scar?"

"That's just it, Mummy, he kept saying he wasn't an angel, that he was just a man. But then I got healed and he admitted that he had done it. If that's not an angel, I don't know what is."

"I can't argue with that, sweetheart. I wonder how he got that scar, though."

"It was jagged, like a lightning bolt, but I thought it would be rude to ask. Besides, he said he had to go to a christening."

"Fancy that. We've got to go find your father, and then the doctors. We want to show them what's happened. Then let's go do something special to celebrate. What'll it be - theatre, a concert, a museum? Those have always been your favorites."

"I know, Mummy, but I couldn't possibly sit still now: I must go to a playground! I don't just want to play: I HAVE to play! I have to run and climb and tumble and slide and swing, and all those things I could never do. I can breathe!" Then quieter she added in wonderment, "I can breathe."

She began crying and buried her head on her mother's shoulder. She reached into her nightgown pocket for a tissue. Her hand bumped the card Harry had given her.

"Oh, Mummy, the angel said to give this card to you and Daddy."

Her mother took the card, and turned it over. "Hm, all it says is 'To achieve what really matters, practice forgiveness and goodwill.' I wonder what that means. It's odd that 'practice' is underlined."

"I have an idea, Mummy. It's what he was doing for me. He didn't just think nice thoughts - he did something good for somebody else. He's done it for lots of other people."

"Still, it's a very cryptic message. It's going to take some work to figure that out. But I guess I'll have more time for it, now that I have a healthy daughter. I wish I could thank him."

"Maybe that's what the card is about, Mummy. The best way to thank someone for a good deed is to follow the good example."

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"Did I miss anything?" said Harry nonchalantly, just after apparating right next to Ginny and placing his arm around her.

"Uncle Harry! You made it!" squealed Constance.

"As always - late but not too late."

"You're not the only one who's 'late' this time, Uncle Harry," said Constance slyly.

"Mm? Is someone missing?" asked Harry, looking around, as Ginny waved her hand at Constance and the two women giggled.

"Oh, I must be mistaken. So, should I leave you two alone for a bit?"

"Why - is there a problem?" asked Harry.

Ginny leaned in close to Harry and said, "She's figured out how we reinvigorate you after a healing. She's being an imp about it. Constance, it's not so urgent as that. He can wait until the festivities are over."

"Says who?" said Harry, with a wink.

Ginny leaned in conspiratorially to Constance. "Sometimes it's even better if I make him wait a bit."

"Ah-ah-ah - not so long that I'd wonder if you still loved me."

"Harry!" said Ginny, hugging him and laying her head on his chest. "Have I ever given you cause to doubt?"

"Well, ..."

"I mean since we made our commitments to each other."

"No, Love. You always find time for me - the true show of love."

"But Uncle Harry, how can you always have such a positive outlook. I already knew how you take the pain of those you heal, and Aunt Ginny was telling me about you feeling pain emotionally for those you can't. Isn't it too much?"

"Well, I had to learn to pace myself. For people who care about others, and themselves, there is always a tension between lapsing into despair and becoming emotionally dead to others' suffering. Either one is tragic, because they lead to not doing the best you can. The knack is to find renewal. I see you've already figured out what one of my tricks is," he said with a squeeze and a kiss on the forehead to Ginny.

"Our whole family, all those I love, are a huge part of my support, just by living the lives you live. It helps me to understand that there will always be pain in life and hard decisions we have to make. You can try to avoid the pain and dilemmas but you either just experience them all the more by anticipating it perpetually or you let worse things happen. You can try to numb yourself, physically or emotionally, but then you aren't really living anyway. What's needed is to balance your pain with joy." Then he gently picked up baby Sirius and cradled him in one arm. "I'm sure you had your share of pain giving birth to this little one, didn't you?"

Constance nodded, as Harry stroked the wisps of Sirius' hair. "I'm aware of worse, Uncle Harry, but it was hard enough."

"But it was worth it because of the joy he adds to your life, right?"

"Absolutely, Uncle Harry."

"Exactly. There will be pain but there can be pleasures and happiness and joy. It takes keeping your eye on what's important. I'm so glad I was allowed to join with this busy, rowdy Weasley clan. Every new event, or even a non-event, in the lives of people near me reminds me why every life is special. Rocking in a chair holding a toddler with an upset stomach is every bit as much a spiritual experience as the grandest of ceremonies. Some people avoid infants because they are repulsed by getting messed on, but I say if I've been peed on or spit up on, so what? - It's a baptism, an anointing, in the life and love of the people around me. It's not something I want to happen, but if it does, it's just one of the unpleasantnesses of life. Life is messy: we're never going to change that. And yet, by learning to appreciate what a blessing it is to be a part of others' lives, even dealing with the messes becomes beautiful and holy. So long as you keep focused on what matters - not just Life, but lives - then even with the inevitable pain of life there is great joy, and life is sweet. At least, that's been my experience."

END