Story Soundtrack: RENT - Seasons of Love (Film Version), Jonathan Larson - Love Heals (RENT Film Soundtrack)
On May 2nd, 1998, Harry Potter led the people of Magical Britain to victory in battle against Tom Marvolo Riddle. Mimicking the greatest hero of the modern age, he walked to his death, sacrificing himself for the protection of others.
In the space between worlds, he met his mother, who was all that he could have imagined, and yet more besides. In that timeless space he learned more of himself than he had ever known, and when the time came and the option was offered, he returned to reality and conflict to protect his friends still more.
The last battle against Tom Riddle was hard fought, bloody, and painful, but Nike had favored those who cherished freedom, and Tom Riddle was vanquished forever.
On May 3rd, 1998, Harry Potter stood in the Great Hall at Hogwarts Castle, amidst rubble and battle damage, and addressed the survivors of what was already being called 'The Second Blood War'.
(Harry thought calling it a war was a bit grandiose, it was at most an insurrection against unlawfully claimed authority. There was no contesting over strategic resources, nor usurpation of territory. He would have called it a skirmish, at best.)
Harry told them that it was not force of arms that won the day, nor might of magic. It was not cunning and ambition, cleverness and intellect, or even bravery that brought him victory.
He told them that it was loyalty, hard work, and above all love that had led to their victory. The love of a man for his friends. The love of a mother for her son. The love of sisters and brothers and friends.
He told them that in the end it had not been fear that triumphed. It had not been hatred. It had not been violence. It had been love that had submitted, and then conquered.
On May 4th, 1998, Harry Potter disappeared. Five doves delivered five letters to five friends, who wept for their loss and cheered for their beloved friend's gain, for Harry Potter had told them of his time in the space between worlds, and that there he had learnt from his mother of family worth claiming and where to find them.
The letters told them that his new family didn't welcome outsiders, and so they could not come with him this time. That he would not likely see them again, because in the Magical World he was uncomfortable, like he was wearing shoes that didn't fit.
He left them with his love, and a promise to maintain contact, but Harry Potter was never seen in the Magical World again.
On June 13th, 1998, a young man hiked up a hill to a well-kept hedge. He gently flared the magic wreathed and twined into his being, softly striking the protections that secured the area beyond the pine. The wizard's version of a knock.
Mildly alarmed, a snow-white centaur galloped towards the tree, and was greeted by the young man's cheerful wave.
Harry Potter had come to Camp Half-Blood.
Saturday, 13 June 1998 - Camp Half-Blood - Big House
Harry Potter looked good. He'd put on enough weight since the end of the war to go from 'skinny' to 'lean'. His mother had gifted him with new, elegant looking glasses that highlighted and enhanced his eyes. He was dressed in a black tank top, hardy, dark grey trousers with an array of pockets, and gently worn hiking boots. He had a white hoodie tied around his waist, and a silver-hilted sword looped over his left shoulder. Tattooed on his right shoulder was a golden dove, superimposed on a black, capital omega, and framed by green laurels.
He leaned against the railing of the wrap-around porch, watching the portly, flamboyantly dressed Mr. D berate the centaur Chiron. Apparently Harry's arriving at camp so late in his life was a black mark on Mr. D's record, and the god was not happy about it. The god whirled to face the wizard.
"And you, Harvey Porter, had best stay out of trouble or I'll turn you into a newt!" he barked.
"A newt, sir?"
"Yes," nodded the god, "I save that one for YOUR kind." Mr. D stalked into the big house, grumbling quietly. The silence on the porch became a bit awkward. Chiron dodged it by buffing the lenses of his spectacles, eliciting a snicker from Harry.
"I have the same habit," Harry answered Chiron's inquisitive glance. "It's a nice way to claim a couple extra moments in an awkward situation."
"Quite," agreed the centaur, before diverting the subject. "May I infer from your shoulder that your heritage is known to you?"
Harry nodded briskly, "Mum says I'll be claimed at dinner tonight."
"Well then," answered the centaur, "I'll refrain from assigning you a bunk until then. Now, first our orientation film, and I'll see you afterwards." Harry groaned quietly, following the centaur inside.
Saturday, 13 June 1998 - Camp Half-Blood - Dining Pavilion
The evening sun shone warmly down on the open-air pavilion as the residents of Camp Half-Blood haphazardly found their seats. A comforting wind carried the susurrus of warm conversation to all corners.
Silence descended as Chiron cleared his throat.
"Good evening, campers," he began. "Tonight we welcome another to our fraternity. Please greet Harry Potter of Britain," he finished, gesturing towards the young man standing off to one side.
As attention focussed on the wizard, a brilliant hologram flared to life over his head, that of a white dove, surprisingly framed by a faint green laurel wreath. Disappointed murmurs rose from some of the girls at table ten; the new guy was dishy. Chiron admirably covered his surprise as he announced, "Hail, Harry Potter, son of Aphrodite, lady of the doves, goddess of love, and legacy of Nike, divine charioteer, goddess of victory."
Harry barely suppressed his smirk as he sat himself at table ten. The dinner conversation at his table was light, consisting primarily of introductions and icebreakers. He noted that the topic of mortal families was carefully skirted. Later he would learn that this was a sore spot for much of the camp, and generally avoided out of respect.
Chiron had explained that the magical world, while not a SECRET, per se, was not well-known in the divine world. It was considered to be the sole jurisdiction of Hecate, and simply didn't matter much at his new home. He and his new cabin-mates bonded over appalled dissections of Wizarding fashions.
When he fell asleep that night in his new bunk, Harry felt that his first day at Camp Half-Blood had been far superior to his first day at Hogwarts. He hoped the trend continued.
Saturday, 20 June 1998 - Camp Half-Blood - Big House
Harry strode into the gently lit room and collapsed into a comfortable chair, letting almost all of his mental and emotional shields drop. He closed his eyes as exhaustion claimed him, muttering nonsense to himself. Chiron stood nearby, not saying anything.
"I'm not sure why I'm here," Harry confessed. "And I've got no idea at all why I trust you so completely. Is there some magic at work here?"
"Not really," Chiron answered. "But I have a guess."
"Go on then," Harry replied, smiling faintly at the echo of a conversation with another elderly teacher.
"I suspect your mother told you that you could trust me, and since you trust your mother, that trust has been unconsciously transferred."
Harry reflected for a moment, before nodding. "Reasonable," he said. "And it feels right. But you've evaded the first question."
Chiron pursed his lips slightly, choosing his words with care. "You're here for several reasons," he said. "The first is to get you into the mortal system. You need birth and identity records, health records, and so on. We're going to arrange for that today.
"You're also here because all campers over the age of fifteen are required to undergo a psychological evaluation at least yearly," he finished.
"That's surprisingly responsible," Harry admitted after a long pause for consideration.
Chiron's lips quirked, "Athena insisted."
An hour under Chiron's scrutiny (the centaur was a licensed psychologist in the state of New York, and considered exceptional) left Harry feeling wrung out and exhausted, but calmer.
"You're honestly healthier, emotionally, than anyone with your history has any right to be," Chiron told him. "Not as healthy as I'd wish, but not nearly as bad as I would expect. I suspect it's your mother's influence.
"I'd like to see you for counselling every two weeks, but I'm not going to insist on it," the centaur finished.
"I'll let you know next week?" Harry asked. Chiron nodded, and gave Harry a smile that sent shivers down the young demigod's spine.
"And now," Chiron said with cheer. "Paperwork!"
Harry groaned.
30 July 1998
Delphi Strawberry Fields
Long Island, New York
Dear Hermione,
I'm gainfully employed. Shocker, isn't it? But DSF runs a summer camp for children with learning disabilities, and I've been added to their employee roster as a cabin counsellor. The Activities Director here (Dr. Chiron Brunner) believes that I'll be able to better connect with the kids because I'm closer to their age.
It turns out that I'm dyslexic, and that that's to blame for a significant chunk of my scholastic issues. I put more blame on that Merlin-be-damned scar. I didn't realize it until it was healed, but the scar had always been squeezing my mind. Once I'd recovered a bit I realized that I've always felt like there was a vice squeezing my brain. With it gone, it's a lot easier to focus.
Still have problems with my attention span though.
Anyway, the folks here at DSF are aware of the magical world, but not integrated with it. It's a bit disconcerting, but very freeing; I don't have to worry over every word, or censor my stories.
Unfortunately, I can't invite you for a visit. The entrance policies here are extremely strict. Aside from Dr. Brunner, no one is allowed on the property who's not either part of the program or, like me, a relation to the camp's founders.
I honestly don't think you'd like it too much here, though, and that's not me comforting you with sour grapes. Almost all of our kids here are ADHD, and Dr. Brunner generally disapproves of medication. Our programs are tailored to ameliorate the ADHD, with very short (less than twenty minutes) lesson segments and a lot of physical and active learning. We both know that's not really your thing; you're definitely a thorough learner. I'm loving it, though.
I'm in counselling now. The counsellor being counselled. It's amusing, but it's helped a lot. I worry a bit about you and Ron now. My PTSD isn't too bad; Dr. Brunner and I think that the scar insulated me from a lot of emotional damage despite the problems it caused. Dr. Brunner's offered to take you as a patient if you can't find someone over there. I really hope you consider it.
Anyway, my kids here are throwing me a birthday party in Central Park tomorrow, and you're invited. I've enclosed a portkey. It'll activate any time between three and six PM Greenwich time, and bring you and up to five people with you.
I've also invited Ron, Ginny, Neville, Luna, and George.
Love,
Harry
Friday, 28 August 1998 - Camp Half-Blood - Aphrodite Cabin
Harry stood opposite the cabin's door, feet apart, hands clasped behind his back, looking over his half-siblings, sprawled in various relaxed poses before him. He had changed a bit over the summer, growing his hair a bit longer and improving his wardrobe. He was wearing a pale grey oxford shirt, untucked, with the collar unbuttoned and the sleeves rolled to his elbows, black slacks, and grey work boots. Two new tattoos, simple Greek Key patterns in cobalt blue, encircled his wrists like bracelets.
Internally, he smiled with amusement. We all posture, as though a camera will catch us at any moment. Even I'm doing it. He quietly cleared his throat and the faint hum of conversation died immediately.
"Most of us say au revoir tomorrow, but I needed to share this with you all before then," he began.
"By now you all know at least the outlines of my life before I came here. What I haven't shared with you yet is what mum asked of me when she directed me this way.
"Love is the most powerful force on Earth," he said, abandoning his relaxed posture to pace. The others quashed their smiles; Harry's fidgets were well-known and endearing, at an extreme even for the hyperactive demigods.
"It comes in many forms. Romantic, filial, fraternal, parental, patriotic. Others I don't have the vocabulary for.
"It was love that defeated my greatest enemy," he shared.
"The Christians know the power of love. They embody it in their deity, they elevate love above all others. Such is her power that our mother, if she wished, could claim the throne of Olympus." He waved a hand dismissively. "She does not, because she has no need for such accolades, and she loves her family, who do.
"Has not love bridled War?" he asked them. "Oh, he slips his bit now and then, but it is Love who holds his reins.
"We are, mostly, children of a decadent age. Children of a secure age. We focus more on our mother's second domain and less on her first. But we are not JUST the sons and daughters of beauty. We are also the sons and daughters of love.
"The arts are Apollo's domain, but more than half his repertoire honors our mother's domain. More of the arts are devoted to love than any other subject. Literature, music, drama, all focused on the trials and triumphs of love.
"Despite the violence and danger of being a demigod, we, the children of Aphrodite, have the longest average lifespans of our greater family because love protects and shields us. More than two-thirds of demigods come from broken homes, but we, the children of Aphrodite, claim only three such demigods."
He turned then, sweeping his half-siblings with a heated look, almost a glare, but without the antagonism. "Love gives us strength when we think we're at our limits. Love gives us courage when we think to falter. Love lets us rise beyond even the most terrible pain… I'm told that childbirth is excruciating. Do you think any woman would birth a child if she hadn't love?" he joked.
"Next year, I'll be teaching you all how to access the strength that love can give us. We will never level cities with a wave of our hands. Our power will never strike fear into the hearts of our enemies or raise awe in the breasts of our allies. It's not that kind of power.
"Our power is the hand that pulls you to your feet the middle of a riot. The lullaby that lets you sleep before a mighty battle. The shield that turns aside a fatal strike at your back. The smile that lets you run back to Marathon after you get to Athens.
"Our victories and contributions will rarely be celebrated in song and story. Our names will not blaze across the pages of the history books. But we will be honored all the same. You find us not in the headlines of the New York Times, but on the marble of the Memorial Wall. Arthur Wellesley may plan a campaign, but it's Tom Smith and John Chandler who execute it. We may not be as FAMOUS, but we are certainly as IMPORTANT."
His audience was completely silent, cherishing his every word as Harry froze, smiling gently at them all and flinging his arms wide. Some swore they could see the translucent face of their mother behind him, smiling with pride at them all.
"I love you all," he continued. "As does our mother, though she must be distant. Others may forget us, may devalue us, but mum cherishes us all, and never forgets us. But she, and I, worry for you. Mum's uneasy, she believes the coming years may be more dangerous than ever before."
Changing the topic so swiftly that he startled his audience, Harry beckoned a young woman in the audience, "Aria, come up here please." Aria was in her middle teens, and her figure, skin, hair, and carriage stood out as exceptional even in cabin ten. She gracefully rose from her seat and walked forward as Harry continued.
"Beauty can be a weapon, and a very effective one," he began, watching the girl as she approached, "and Aria is exceptionally well-armed," he finished with a disarming smile.
Like a snake, Harry struck, "but it can also be a vulnerability." In less than three seconds he had Aria pinned in a very suggestive position. "Aria is now disarmed, vulnerable, and endangered. Words can fail. Charm can be ignored. Sometimes, to defend yourself, you MUST employ the sword." Harry released the young woman and kissed her cheek apologetically.
"Over the school year, I will be meeting with each of you and your families and we will develop fitness plans appropriate to your individual physiologies. I know some of you ladies are reluctant because certain exercise routines can adversely affect your bustlines. We will address that.
"I will also be giving you defence routines to practice over the year, and next summer we will train more exhaustively. By this time next year, all of you will, at the very least, be able to escape me, should I grab you like earlier, even if you cannot defeat me." He swept the room with a solemn gaze. "If you won't do this for yourselves, do it for your mother and your siblings.
"I love you all," he smiled, relaxing in the semi-darkness. The sun had set during his address and the cabin was lit only by a few perfumed candles and their mother's faint apparition, still watching Harry with pride. The cabin rang with applause.
Harry let them cheer him for a few moments, marvelling at the difference he felt and wondering why it was so sharp. Such moments at Hogwarts had been disconcerting and made him want to flee, but here, he could just accept it.
"Alright," he laughed, motioning them to calm down, "alright. Thank you, but lights out is still in twenty minutes."
fin
Author's Note: The speech was the primary impetus for this fic. I just had to write it out. A secondary one was that I haven't really seen this combination done before. Most fics I've read have made Harry Thanatos' kid or one of the king gods. But given the tone and themes of the last two books, I think Aphrodite works much better.
Part of me wants to expand this story, but honestly I can't plot well enough to do so. I've tried a bit to trace the impact Harry and a more capable and involved cabin ten might have on the Titanomachy, but I can't seem to do it. If some reader out there wants to collaborate on that let me know and I'll consider it.