Harry Potter and the Orb of Power

             Chapter 37: The Everlasting Garden

    The next few days passed in a blur for Harry; everything was hazy and indefinite. He didn’t feel much, physical or otherwise. He seemed to exist as a shell, completely devoid of anything remotely active in his mind. He knew he had to recover from the many shocks that he had been exposed to, but he also knew he had no time to dally. Life at Hogwarts, after the events in the Minister’s hideaway, became drastically different. Waves of announcements trickled in from outside that cast a dark shadow on the students and faculty of the school. It seemed that the bubble had finally burst, and the wizarding world now knew that Lord Voldemort, the most powerful Dark wizard in a century, had returned.

    The first announcement that the Ministry made was that the current year of Hogwarts would be drastically shortened. Many parents wanted their children in their own hands until the Ministry came up with a solid plan to deal with Voldemort’s return. Dumbledore, while reluctant to close the school, had to bow to the pressures of the public. He insisted that the school would close in April, after the fifth and seventh years had taken their wizarding examinations. Due to the shortening of the academic year, all extracurricular activities, Quidditch in particular, were cancelled. The much anticipated match between Slytherin and Gryffindor had been cancelled, much to the chagrin of the students. Draco Malfoy was particularly upset, as it seemed that he would not be able to take his revenge on Harry for putting his father in Azkaban. Harry found that it wasn’t important, and couldn’t find it in himself to be upset.

    With no Minister to lead the Ministry, the Wizengamot, once simply the committee that oversaw particularly heinous crimes, was in temporary control. A new Minster would have to be chosen, as there wasn’t time for popular elections. However, it was popular knowledge that no one wanted the job. Fudge, the previous Minister, had died under mysterious circumstances, though many suspected that he was killed at the hands of Lord Voldemort himself. No one, the public reasoned, would have the ambition and the gall to take on the position of Minister, and make themselves a target.

    There were other changes, other announcements that were shocking the wizarding world, but Harry fell out of contact with the news. He couldn’t bring himself to be concerned with what was happening on the outside. He was looking from what he felt like as the perspective of an outsider. He wanted nothing to do with interacting with his fellow students, nothing to do with his examinations coming up. He didn’t feel comfortable in his own skin, and constantly felt that he couldn’t breathe. He felt over-stretched, very thin, and the worst was the constant heartache that he felt.

    It was a Sunday morning that Harry realized what he was dreading most was coming up. Monday, after classes, the Order was having a small burial service for Sirius. There were to be no outsiders, save for Harry, Ron, and Hermione, and it would be very brief. Harry shuddered, feeling very cold, as he drank a goblet of orange juice. He sipped idly, not feeling very thirsty, but wanting to keep himself busy. He looked down at his breakfast, and couldn’t muster up any feeling of hunger. He closed his eyes, took a deep breath, and opened them. He heard the buzz of the Great Hall filling his ears. He tried to focus in on some of the conversation, but nothing was coming in clear. His head hurt, ached, and the harder he tried to listen, the worse his condition became. He put down his goblet. He couldn’t stay in the Great Hall. He made to leave, but he felt a hand on his shoulder.

    “Harry?” It was Ron. He sat down next to Harry, and looked at his best friend. Harry felt a strange feeling well up in him, a strange mixture of relief and pain, of happiness unbounded and deep sadness. Ron had told him not to go to Sirius, he had warned him, and despite his advice, Harry had recklessly gone ahead. He felt sadness overpower his other emotions.

    “You all right?” Ron asked, looking at his friend.

    “I’m fine,” Harry droned, looking at his goblet.

    “I’m sure you’re not. It was a stupid question.” Silence fell between the two. “You know, my Nana Weasley was only seventy when she died. I wasn’t born when it happened, but I remember my father was still affected a long time after she had gone. She had been watching Percy while he was still little, I don’t really know how old. They had gone on a trip to London; London was always Percy’s favorite place to visit as a child.” Ron paused for a moment. Harry didn’t know where Ron was going with his story, but he noticed Ron was particularly affected by it. Harry tried to listen carefully, but felt more sadness welling up in him.

    “What happened?”    

    “The Death Eaters, while You-Know-Who was trying his first go at taking over, had attacked a part of London. My Nana and Percy weren’t that close to it, but they were close enough for my mother to worry. My father was working overtime already, and he didn’t really know what was happening. Some of the Death Eaters were caught, but one of them had escaped. My Nana was taking Percy from where they were and they ran into the rogue Death Eater. I don’t know a lot of the story, I’ve gotten only pieces from Bill, who was old enough to have heard what happened. The Death Eater tried to kill Percy, but my Nana stopped him from doing it. In the struggle she was killed, and the Death Eater was about to do in Percy when the authorities came. The Death Eater bolted, and Percy was saved.” Ron paused again, his face beet red as he told the story. He looked to Harry that he was fighting the urge to cry.

    “Percy’s memory was altered so he wouldn’t remember any of it. My Mom and Dad were so protective of him. My mother, especially, became very strict when it came to rules around the house. Bill and Charlie were old enough to have been able to live with a bit of freedom, but it’s really all Percy knew. When Dumbledore realized You-Know-Who had come back, I suppose that’s why my father was eager to join the Order. I guess he wanted to make sure he did his part so that no one would ever lose anyone else.” Harry shook his head. Whatever Ron was getting at, Harry didn’t follow. The story was indeed tragic, but Harry felt worse than he had before Ron began to tell his story.

    “I never got to know my Nana. For that matter, neither did Fred, George, or Ginny. We never got to have any time with her, and from what we’ve heard, she was a very nice and gentle and fun person. I know right now things are tough, and you’ve already had it tough. But don’t lose sight of the fact that you had time with him, however short it was.” Ron paused again, framing his next words carefully. “I can’t even imagine what it’s like to lose my family. But try not to dwell on what you’ve lost, and remember what you’ve had, and still have.” Ron got up from the bench, and put another hand on Harry’s shoulder. “I’ll be around in case you need anything.” Harry watched Ron exit the Great Hall, and felt pity swell in his chest. It must have cost Ron a lot to tell him that story, and Harry felt greatly appreciated. But though the fact that Ron would be around was comforting, his story was not. He couldn’t help but feel that losing Sirius was just as bad as Ron losing his Nana. It was all so unfair, neither of them should have died. They were both taken, stolen from them, and none of it was right. Harry felt sick, and pushed his plate away.

***

    Monday came with grey skies that threatened to rain. Harry practically dozed through his classes, barely listening to the scraps of information that were coming from his teachers. Most of them left Harry alone. Thankfully Harry did not have Potions; Harry knew that despite everything, Snape would be just as vindictive and just as cruel as he ever was. Harry spoke little to Ron and Hermione, finding solace in quiet, at least until the memorial service. Harry repeatedly found himself lost in his memories, recalling the way Sirius fell to the ground after Pettigrew cursed him. Harry sat in Transfiguration, remembering vividly the way Wormtail kicked Sirius’ dead body, already dishonored by staying in his Animagus form. He felt sick to his stomach, and he felt someone prodding him.

    “Mr. Potter? Potter? Harry?” Professor McGonagall was looking at him through her spectacles, wearing a kindly yet severe face.

    “Sorry,” Harry mumbled.

    “Understandable, Harry,” McGonagall said as Harry got to his feet. “However, I must insist that you snap out of this stupor. It does not do well to live in thought, and forget to live.” Harry was reminded greatly of Dumbledore when she said this, and he left the class without another word.

***

    Harry was dressed in black robes, waiting at the Entrance Hall for Ron, Hermione, and McGonagall to proceed to the ceremony. He stood alone, checking his watch, and was painfully reminded of Sirius. Sirius had bought him this watch for his birthday. It was such a great present, Harry remembered. Then again, Sirius always gave great gifts. The Firebolt, the watch, the knife with all of its useful attachments, and the greatest one of all, his being Harry’s godfather. He extended the gift of a home, of someone who Harry could turn to for advice.

    “Hi,” a voice said from somewhere around him. Harry turned and saw Hermione, dressed in a dressy sort of black robe. Ron was with her, dressed in formal black as well.

    “Hey, mate,” Ron said. Harry was about to respond, when Professor McGonagall swept into the Entrance Hall. She too was dressed in funeral attire, and gave them a grave look.

    “Let’s go,” she simply said, and the three followed. They walked in silence through the Hogwarts grounds. Harry turned and saw the Whomping Willow, and felt more memories flood into his vision. He could practically see the night when Harry found out Sirius was his godfather. He could even feel the weight of Sirius pressed against him when he bowled Harry over in his dog form. Harry felt a similar weight pressed against his chest, and he screwed up his eyes to prevent himself from crying. He felt Hermione take his hand in hers, and he looked at her. Her brown eyes were shimmering with tears, but she looked as if she was resolutely trying to hold in her emotions as well. Harry looked at Ron, who looked very pale. Harry’s eyes drifted to the edge of the Forbidden Forest.

    “There’s a small clearing ahead, it’ll only be a few moments walk,” McGonagall said. The three followed her on a dirt path into the forest. Harry watched as the trees swayed with the wind, swaying gently back and forth. He saw buds of leaves and flowers on the tree branches, and he knew that spring was coming. He heard a ruffling of feet, and he saw that he was in a small, secluded area, which was filled with blooming trees and flowers. It looked as if they were in the middle of spring; all the plants were alive and healthy. Harry saw flowers that were red, blue, white, yellow, and purple. The leaves on the trees were deep green, as if winter had never touched them.

    “We are all here,” Dumbledore said, looking at the newcomers. “Unfortunately, we must keep this gathering short, as our absence must not be noticed.” Harry felt a stab of anger in his heart, but he forced himself to listen. Now was not the time to be selfish in his anger towards Dumbledore; he had to listen out of respect for Sirius.

    “I’m sure that all of you have no need for an introduction to Sirius Black. We all knew him, as much as a person can know another.” Harry looked at Lupin, who was staring stonily at the grave in the center of the circle they had formed. It was a rather plain looking stone, certainly not ornamented, with the name Padfoot written on it. Harry closed his eyes to fight the nausea that was waving over him, and he looked back up at Dumbledore. “For most of us, he was a friend, an ally. He fought alongside us, he helped protect us against our enemies. But he also was a brother to us, who laughed with us, who cried. He was part of our family, in every sense of the word.” Harry heard Hermione quietly sniffle next to him. Ron, on his other side, shifted uncomfortably. Harry could not pry his eyes from Lupin, whose grey eyes were shimmering with tears, but tears that he would not let fall. Lupin blinked, and the shimmering was gone.

    “Sirius was also a father, a son, a cousin, a godfather. He was everything one can expect from a great man. He has led a hard life, one filled with turmoil, and yet he found within himself the spirit and courage to live on and help those around him. I do not doubt the character of Sirius Black, and can only hope that in time I may be deemed as worthy to stand with him in the future, wherever he is.” Harry felt Hermione squeeze his hand. Silence fell in the garden. The grey clouds rumbled ominously in the sky, but the rain had not fallen.

    “We stand here in the Everlasting Garden of the Forbidden Forest. It is a place that time does not touch, a place where life can not be ended by the decays of time. The flowers bloom evermore, and the trees never wither and perish. The memory of Sirius must never be allowed to wither and fall from our minds. For those who wish to visit here, and rekindle their memories with Sirius, I wish that you respect the Garden and see to it that its beauty is maintained. By revisiting Sirius in our memories, and by allowing our love to continue and grow, this garden will always stay in its perfect condition.” There was a murmur of assent throughout the crowd. Harry saw in the distance a witch, her black cloak flapping in the increasing winds. He knew it was Mrs. Figg, his mysterious Custodia. She disappeared suddenly from view, but Harry knew it would not be the last time he saw her. He turned to look at Dumbledore again. The wind was picking up, and the rain threatened to downpour.

    “I’m afraid that nature is drastically cutting us short,” Dumbledore said. The crowd slowly thinned until it was Ron, Hermione, Harry, Dumbledore, and McGonagall left.

    “It’s time for us to go,” Dumbledore said quietly, and moved towards the dirt path. Harry took one last look at the Everlasting Garden, and turned away.

***

    Harry lay in his bed, staring up into the shadows that hung from the dormitory ceiling. He listened to the steady snoring of Neville, hearing the rumbling rhythmically beating against the otherwise silent room. His thoughts kept drifting to his godfather, and the way his body fell when Wormtail’s curse hit him. He saw the flash of green light, and his own voice screaming in protest. Harry shifted uncomfortably in his bed. Guilt squirmed through him. His skin was tingling as if spiders were crawling all over him. He couldn’t get to sleep like this, it was impossible. He looked out the window and saw that the rain was pouring down silently. He took a breath, and decided that he had to go to the Everlasting Garden. He needed to talk to Sirius, he had to explain. Harry put on some robes and slipped his feet into his shoes. He took out his Invisibility Cloak and put a Water Repelling Charm on it so it wouldn’t get ruined in the rain. He swept the cloak around him and, when he was sure that he was completely invisible, stealthily descended the stairs. He moved quickly, hoping that the Common Room was empty, but when he entered into the room, he saw Ron and Hermione sitting on the floor in front of the fire, deep in conversation. Harry walked straight towards the portrait hole, not wanting to listen in on his friends’ conversation. He took a last look at his friends, concern and worry etched into every expression they wore, and he opened the portrait hole and crept out into the hall.

    He went in silence, hoping not to attract any attention. He wished bitterly that he had the Marauder’s Map, but if he was quiet enough, he would manage to go without being seen. Whoever had the Marauder’s Map would know for sure that Harry was leaving the dormitory, but Harry couldn’t think about that now. All he wanted to do was to get to the Everlasting Garden, and tell Sirius just how sorry he was for everything that happened.

    Harry reached the Entrance Hall before he knew it, and exited onto the Hogwarts grounds. The rain was pouring down heavily, but the cloak was repelling the water. Harry’s sneakers were soaked through, however, and it was only a matter of time before his socks were damp and cold. Harry headed straight for the Forbidden Forest, knowing exactly where he was going. He saw the dirt path that led to the Garden, but it was very dark. Who knew what sort of creatures were lurking in the pathway, even if the Garden was not that deep into the forest?

    “Lumos,” Harry muttered, lighting the end of his wand. He walked quickly, avoiding the brambles and tree roots that were extended over the path. The road had been turned into a river of mud and puddles, forcing him to slow down as he tried to avoid soaking his feet more than they already were. He peered ahead, hoping to see the entrance to the garden, and when the light from his wand bounced off of the two trees that formed an archway over the path, he knew he had reached his destination. He took a deep breath and plunged onwards. He walked under the archway of the trees and entered into the garden.

    Despite the torrential downpour of rain, the grassy clearing had not turned muddy. Harry saw the water being absorbed quickly into the ground. The rain came down in straight lines. Harry threw off the Invisibility Cloak, and as he felt the rain splash into his hair and soak his robes, he focused only on the gravestone that stood in the middle of the garden. Harry’s tears were falling freely as he saw the name Padfoot etched into the stone. He ran forward and threw himself to his knees in front of the stone.

    “I’m sorry; I’m so, so sorry!” Harry moaned, pleading with the statue. “This never should have happened! If only I listened to you and didn’t go to Diagon Alley. You never would have gotten captured. Sirius I’m sorry...” Harry couldn’t find any more words, he merely stared at the gravestone, half expecting Sirius to call from the dead. Harry heard footsteps behind him and he stood up and whirled around. He saw Mrs. Figg standing in the middle of the clearing, her robes billowing like wings behind her.

    “Why did you leave? If you hadn’t left you could have saved him!” Harry raged.

    “I am here to protect you, Harry, not your godfather. Sirius’ death is very regrettable, and I’m very sorry that he is gone. I liked him,” Mrs. Figg declared with unusual and uncharacteristic emotion. Harry knew this woman, and she never once reacted with any type of feeling. In fact, Harry thought that she was incapable of such a thing.

    “Why did you have to leave?” Harry asked, desperate for an answer. Mrs. Figg sniffed, and gave him a disapproving look.    

    “I had to remove Malagar’s presence from the backyard. I regret that she managed to escape before I could drag her away.”

    “She got away?” Harry asked, looking at Mrs. Figg.

    “Unfortunately. I loathe the beast, but she is a slippery one.”

    “Who is she?” Harry asked, gazing at this mysterious woman standing before him.

    “She’s the product of an awful tragedy. She was sculpted into what she is now. She’s insane, but she’s also in possession of both her faculties and her horrible power. We haven’t seen the last of Lady Malagar, believe me.” Harry fell silent, and another question popped into his head.

    “Well when she escaped, why didn’t you come back? You managed to Apparate there, why couldn’t you do it again?” Harry demanded, the rain pouring down even more.

    “I didn’t Apparate. Something akin to it, and far more dangerous, but I did not Apparate. House-elves, phoenixes; these creatures can disappear and appear well within non-Apparition zones. They have a magic far more powerful, and it was that power that I used to appear.”

    “You haven’t answered my question,” Harry said, not deterred by Figg’s explanation.

    “My dear boy, you ask far too many questions. Use your head! If I had come back, if I had returned and taken you away, Fawkes would never have made his decision, and nothing would have been accomplished. Had I not thought that you were able to cope, I would not have left you in th first place. You have been sheltered, Harry. You have managed a great many tasks, but the greatest and most dangerous lie before you. It will take great skill and knowledge, and no doubt bravery, to overcome those challenges. But I refuse to believe that you should be carried into such challenges on the shoulders of Albus Dumbledore and his Order. They are of help, let there be no doubt, but you are going to have to carry yourself into victory.”

    “Some victory,” Harry snapped. “Fawkes chose Voldemort. He’s going to win. Dumbledore said that because Voldemort’s scar glowed green, he is going to kill me.”

    Figg remained silent, and wrinkled her nose. She surveyed Harry with her deep, blue eyes, and her mouth twitched into a frown.

    “Is that defeat I sense in your voice? You must continue to fight,” Figg said.

    “For what? How am I supposed to do it alone?” Harry yelled. Mrs. Figg bowed her head.

    “You don’t have to do it alone,” she said, shaking her head. “But you must learn to survive on your own, if you are ever caught by yourself again.”

    “What’s the point of having you as a Custodia if you aren’t going to help me?” Harry said sullenly. He knew as he said it that he shouldn’t have, and he was already ashamed for having let it slip. Mrs. Figg grunted in displeasure, but remained silent. Harry looked into her eyes. “Why are you my Custodia?”

    “Never you mind,” Mrs. Figg snapped, sounding remarkably like Professor Grubbly-Plank. “If you are to know, you will know soon. But I have been watching over you Harry. You may remember a witch performing counter jinxes on the Knight Bus, or teaching your dear Aunt Petunia how to do magic. That was me. But you must be careful...” Mrs. Figg turned her head. “Someone is coming. I must depart. When Albus realizes I have concealed the truth about my nature to you, I will no longer be welcome at Hogwarts. I will continue to watch you, Harry, but tread carefully.” With a flash of blinding blue light, Mrs. Figg was gone. Harry turned towards the path and saw Hermione and Ron coming into the Everlasting Garden. They were both soaking wet; Hermione’s hair was matted and no longer bushy; drops of water were hanging from Ron’s long nose. Harry turned away from them, and looked at Sirius’ gravestone.

    “How did you guys know I was here?” he asked, still looking at the grave.

    “We saw the portrait hole open. You didn’t think you could slip out with the Invisibility Cloak without us noticing, did you mate?” Ron asked. Harry turned and saw an uneasy grin on his face. Hermione was looking pale, and she was staying silent. They walked over and stood next to Harry. Hermione took Harry’s right hand, and gave it a squeeze.

    “It’ll be tough without him,” Ron prompted. Harry sighed, and Hermione leaned her head on his shoulders. The sky had opened, and the rain was falling down from the sky, splashing onto the earth.

    “It will,” Harry agreed, looking at the stone. It was so impersonal; it was as if Sirius had no one in the world. Hermione, who seemed to know what Harry was thinking strode forward and kneeled in front of the stone. She flicked her wand, and she stood up. Harry peered, and saw a new message written in the stone.

         Snuffles: Loved and Not Forgotten.

    “It’s not poetry,” Hermione said apologetically, but Harry shook his head.    

    “It’s perfect,” Harry said, hugging Hermione close. Harry turned to Ron and Hermione wanting very much to express how grateful he was to have them there, supporting him. He opened his mouth to say something, but, when Ron gave Harry a slight smile, Harry stayed silent. He knew they knew; he didn’t have to stay anything.

    “A bit damp, this is,” Ron said. Harry couldn’t help but laugh, and the laugh seemed to break the melancholy that hung in the air. “And a bit cold.”

    “Let’s go then,” Hermione said, and they started walking away. Harry felt some of the weight of guilt lift from his heart, but a cloud of gloom remained. He looked at his friends, and he knew that he would have to tell them eventually about his fate. He stopped and turned to look at Sirius’ grave again, and he had a flash of vision. He saw Ron and Hermione, standing alone, crying over Harry’s own grave. Ron was trying to console Hermione, but the pain on both of their faces was unbearable to watch.

    “What’s wrong?” Hermione asked, breaking Harry’s concentration.

    “Erm...nothing. Just nothing,” Harry said, offering a weak smile. Neither Ron nor Hermione seemed to have been convinced, but they didn’t press it. Harry grabbed his Invisibility Cloak and they left the Garden behind.