Angelus Candidus

Angelus Candidus

It was his favorite place in the whole world, above and below. He often went there to clear his thoughts and look out over the sea of white, the mountains of ivory, the sunset that turned the sky pink and orange and purple with the dying of the day. But it wasn't really dying... It was the birth of the night, and then the shades of red changed into pearly silver and gold, turning it all into a magical wonder that, had he still had breath, would have surely taken it away.

He would fly as fast as he could go, which was, needless to say, a speed surpassing that which most of the Whites could reach. Most shook their heads when he left each day to visit the great valley near the Imperial City. But there were some that understood his fixation with flying; it was a trait that had stayed with him. His great love of the air. It had always fascinated him in a way nothing else had. Well, almost nothing else, and he'd spend hours skimming the gentle waves, scattering puffs of frosty gossamer, twirling and looping and every minute was pure joy. And when he grew weary of the game, he would sit, cross legged, propping his chin on his hands, and gaze at the shapes he'd managed to conjure in the air during his flight, wondering who else might see them and what they would think. He remembered, that when he was little, he used to love the different shapes, how no two were ever the same. He'd spent hours at guessing exactly what they were, giggling like the little boy that he was, while his mother made him lemonade and before his father came and caught him up a bear hug, throwing him up into the air. Like he was flying.

It all came back down to flying, when he thought about it.

He remembered the first time he'd come to the Imperial City, he'd been staggered by the sheer size of some parts of it. They'd reached up beyond heights he'd never imagined existed, and when he saw his first Whites, flying up until beyond his vision, the only thing he'd wanted was to be just like them.

There were, of course, Silvers and Golds as well and then there were Fire-bearers, and Emeralds, the highest Order, and of course, those who were happy the way they were, but it was the ease of flight that had immediately caught his eye. Few of the other Orders flew. They handled the loftier issues and affairs and had no need.

The Whites were charged with solitary missions.

That had been the other aspect that had called to him. Whites Answered cries for help, even unspoken cries. Cries that came from deep within one's soul, even when they went unnoticed by the one in need. He'd always wanted to help people and he had always found small ways to do so, but when he'd suddenly been faced with the opportunity to do so much more, how could he have turned away?

It hadn't been very hard to become a White. He'd asked his grandfather what he needed to do and the Silver had pointed him to one of the tallest buildings made of emerald and told him he'd find his answers there.

Everywhere he turned there seemed to be people he knew. When he'd first arrived so many had greeted him, he'd found it staggering. He'd stepped into the city amidst wild applause, everyone hugging him or shaking his hand. He'd never felt as happy or complete as he did right then. But that had only been the first of millions of moments just the same since his arrival.

A beautiful Emerald had greeted him by name, when he'd gone to the building, though he wasn't sure if he knew her. She'd smiled and kissed both of his cheeks, her red hair bouncing in wispy tendrils about her head, her eyes as piercingly green as the dress she wore. He'd gone down on one knee, feeling it was the appropriate thing to do and she'd laughed, in a way that made him smile and put him at ease. She'd known why he was there and had asked him why he wanted so to become a White. His answers had seemed to please her, yet she had told him that he needed to see for himself if he was truly a White at heart. Then she'd kissed his forehead and in a moment, thousands of memories came flooding back to him, of grateful faces, expressions of relief, kindly smiles. There was one in particular that caught his attention, because he could never forget her face. She was shining with love for him, a look that had always made him want to be better, made him want to earn her love.

When the Emerald had pulled away, she had granted him his wish, saying that she'd known from the beginning that he was worthy. Deeds such as his never went unnoticed and she'd been watching him for enough time to know it was true.

The Imperial City, surprisingly, was not a crowded place at all. It seemed so big, but it was so spacious and welcoming, that he had immediately begun to refer to it as "home". It was home. That was one of the things he'd realized when he'd arrived. He was finally, truly, home.

Cedric sat on a shelf of cloud, his magnificent wings wrapped around himself, watching as the sun settled for the day. Swirls of fluff in every direction turned brilliant shades of red as he watched the great star sink lower and lower, before disappearing behind one of the large mountains down below. He watched as the greens and blues of the lakes and forests faded slowly to darkness; as the stars started twinkling even higher above him. He'd met some of the stars and knew several others by name but it was a long and arduous journey up and he didn't go very often.

The sky turned deep midnight blue and the moon came out, casting its reflective glow over the scene before him.

However, Cedric barely noticed any of it. He'd heard the cry today again. That made it the fourth time. He himself didn't know why he hadn't gone down to help him yet. He owed him so much, after all. Cedric knew what he'd done and at what near price. The other Whites perhaps understood better than he. They'd gone through much the same torment when they had first arrived. Cedric, however, didn't yet know how to deal with cries of guilt, or how to deal with cries that his loved ones sent up after him. Maybe he hadn't Answered yet because he was still trying to think of the solution.

He didn't know exactly what he could do to ease Harry's pain.

The first time he'd heard the cry had been shortly after he'd been named a White. He assumed that there had been cries before, yet he hadn't heard them with his untrained ears. The cry had come as such a shock that he'd nearly fallen out of the sky. Cedric simply couldn't understand at first why Harry would feel so guilty. Then, as he'd gone over the exact memories of what had transpired that night, he began to understand, and it hurt him so, to think that Harry was torturing himself like that. Harry blamed himself for Cedric's death, without even realizing he was doing it. He needed to accept that he had done all he could, but Harry had always believed he could do more.

The second cry had come louder than the first, almost a scream, and it had ripped at him from inside. Harry was dreaming. His lack of acceptance was forcing him to relive that night, over and over. Yet Cedric had still been at a loss of what to do. He couldn't go down and tell him everything was all right, that he was all right. It didn't work that way. He couldn't be seen by mortal eyes any more than air could.

The third time had shaken his soul and pierced his heart, the cry made heavier because of Harry's lack of support from his family. It was a time when Harry would have been so much better off if he'd just been allowed to stay with his friends, people who loved him.

People who loved him...

It was after the third cry that Cedric had begun to formulate a plan. He couldn't be seen or heard, but he could send an agent. He was capable of causing certain events down below. He could bring people together, if need be.

Harry Potter needed someone who loved him.

Cedric had gone to consult the beautiful Emerald who had given him his wings. Harry deserved happiness and if Cedric was going to send someone to relieve his pain, he was going to send the One. Cedric just hadn't been sure if it was allowed.

The Emerald had smiled at him, in her special, motherly way. "Cedric," her voice was soft and warm. "How can I help you?"

Cedric had bowed respectfully before his request. "Milady, I have received a cry three times now, but haven't Answered yet because I didn't know what to do." His voice had been anxious, filled with worry.

The Emerald had nodded her understanding. "It's a cry of guilt, isn't it, Cedric?"

Cedric nodded. The Emerald's eyes had unfocused then and a sad smile flickered across her features.

"I began as a White, you know. I remember my first cry of guilt. And it was only my first. There were so many." The Emerald shook her head. "There was nothing I could do to relieve him of it. Nothing except give him one thought that couldn't be taken away, like the rest... You see, he was in a situation where I couldn't quite reach him, surrounded by nothing but fear and cold and utter blackness. I gave him a small light, so to speak." The Emeralds voice had trailed off and she'd been lost in memories for a moment. Then she'd sighed and said, "Sometimes, Cedric, something small is the only Answer you can give. But when you have a chance to do more," her green eyes had glittered knowingly, "you should take the chance and hold fast to it."

Cedric had nodded, thanking her for her advice.

He had spent the next few days in the Archives, searching for the perfect one to send. All he really needed to do was find Harry's name, but there were thousands and thousands of souls, yet to be born and paired, that it took him quite a while.

Cedric had been pleasantly surprised when he'd found her. He remembered her ever so slightly, but what pleased him, was how easy it would be to get done.

Before leaving the Archives, Cedric had considered briefly looking up his own name. But the memory of almond eyes and shimmering black hair turned him away. He knew already. He'd have to wait, but a lifetime was nothing compared with the reward at the end of it, and besides, he wasn't going anywhere anytime soon.

The fourth cry had come that morning, and it had near pierced the sky. Cedric hadn't planned on setting out until tomorrow but now he knew that he was needed much more urgently. He was just preparing himself for the descent.

It was cold down below. Up above, physical feelings like heat and cold, wet and dry, didn't exist. It was one of the prices that Whites had to pay to help people. That and the pain of the cries.

For this it would be well worth it though. Every cry that rose to his ears held all of Harry's pain and anguish. Cedric only felt it when the cries reached him, but from that small taste, he couldn't imagine what Harry was going through every single day. It wasn't only guilt. There was fear there for his friends and family, loneliness, insecurity... There seemed to be no end to what went on in Harry's soul.

Cedric cast one last glance downwards, at the now shadowed forest that he remembered, the castle, looming above the lake, a towering fortress that seemed forbidding at first sight, but which was welcoming and filled with homely comforts on the inside. Cedric no longer belonged there, he knew.

But he was going back.