Chapter Nine

Masaya

It took another full day for Harry's sense of taste to return, and two more days before he saw the glimmer of light. By then, he had grown quite adapt at managing without his sight, even when he didn't get help from Macoa.

The snake had set up permanent residence around his neck, except when he was training; during those times her presence was too cumbersome, so she normally stayed in his bag or back in his room catching a nap in the sun. He worried about how she was going to take the change in climate when they returned to England and Hogwarts, but she didn't seem to be concerned. She said she would adapt to any climate he was in, given time.

Strangely, Stephen had not commented on her presence at all since the first day, and Harry did not draw attention to his new friend. Stephen was either ignoring her or he didn't know she was there. Macoa told him she had a talent for remaining unseen when she wanted to, and it was clear that Stephen was slightly afraid of her. Harry didn't want to press the issue; it was enough that she was nearby. Although it wasn't the same sense of completeness he got when he was with Ginny, it was close. Macoa had quickly become an extension of himself, and he relied on her in many different ways. She was his eyes in his temporary blindness, and his company when he was alone. He found himself telling her all sorts of things he had never admitted to anyone. For a snake, she was very perceptive and a patient listener.

He was glad Stephen had suggested the spell, even though it had taken precious time away from his training. The initial effects of the spell had grown. His hearing was so keen he could literally hear a pin drop if he concentrated, but that wasn't the best effect. His magic had also compensated, and he was more in tune with his surroundings than he had ever been in his entire life. He could feel the magic all around him, learning its nuances… its different characteristics.

For instance, Stephen's magic pulsated off him in great waves and increased when he was angry or frustrated. He was almost able hear the power radiating from his teacher as they duelled; it was an amazing thing to bear witness to, and sometimes left him speechless. Stephen's magic was like a big blob of power pooling around him wherever he went, and Harry could usually tell when Hunter was close just by using these extra senses because his magic preceded him wherever he went.

Other things besides people had their own brand of magic. He found that every living thing was surrounded by a life force that differed depending on its nature. House plants and greenery that grew in the courtyard had a tame, controlled sort of aura, but the plants that grew wild on the island literally pulsed with life.

Hunter had taken him back to his balancing log, which was on the edge of the jungle, and the moment they Apparated there he had been overwhelmed by the powerful magic surrounding him. It was no wonder he had been drawn to the place. Hunter explained that the island itself had been created by the Ancient Ones, and that the jungle still retained remnants of that old magic. Understanding it made little difference, however, until he learned to master the feelings and perfect the concentration it took to filter out the important information from the unimportant.

That was the trick, he'd found. Control.

So much of his life had been about control, in one way or another. The Dursleys had tried to contain and control him from the beginning. Once he came to Hogwarts, he had unknowingly placed himself under the control of Dumbledore. Adults in his life – with the best of intentions, of course – controlled him by what they were willing to tell him, for his own good. Then there was Voldemort who outright wanted to possess him…

He had to control his temper, master his feelings, and calm his mind. Control, in his life, was a necessary but elusive thing. It teased and tormented him, aggravated by his current situation but coming within inches of his grasp nonetheless Slowly, painstakingly, he was mastering the beast and he knew that once it was mastered, it would take a great force to undo it.

Then there was the Dark. That was another beast to conquer, and one he had no idea how to combat. He had never been particularly frightened of the darkness before, but his prolonged blindness had instilled in him a niggling feeling of unease surrounding the dark. He wasn't sure what it was, exactly, that bothered him so much, but it did. It was like a nameless, faceless enemy that resided all around him and inside him, as well. It lived and breathed, and it never slept.

He remembered the warnings of the Ancient Ones. Beware of the Shadow. The Shadow of the Serpent is your greatest weakness. Was this the thing they were warning him about?

He tried not to dwell on it too much, but every time he stopped to rest, he could feel it approaching, like a lethifold, gliding over the earth looking for innocent victims to prey on. It frightened him, causing shivers to run up and down his spine and the hairs on the back of his neck to stand on end. He dealt with it by staying busy until he practically collapsed from exhaustion, and fell into a dreamless sleep.

On the positive side, his spell work was better than ever. He was performing very complicated and powerful spells with ease and even transfiguration was coming along nicely. He had recently begun to master the sort of animation transfiguration spells Dumbledore had used in the atrium of the Ministry of Magic in June, but he was not as proficient with them as the Headmaster. However, thanks to the spell and these new abilities, he was holding his own with Chac in their daily matches – even blind. He found he didn't really need to see the spells because he could feel them.

When his sight returned fully, he was both relieved and amazed. The spell had a profound effect on the way he saw the world. He had always heard of people seeing auras, but he didn't understand until now. Everywhere he looked, he saw magic. It was like looking through a pair of glasses for the first time and seeing the world in crystal clear focus. He marvelled at everything from Macoa's sleek greenish body flowing with magic, its unusual colouring perfect for blending in with any environment, to the ability to sense what spell Chac was going to throw at him before he even said the incantation.

Through all this he tried hard to keep his mind fixed on his training and off Ginny. He hadn't spoken to her since the night in the temascal when she had stayed with him, and he had been avoiding her at night on purpose. He still hadn't come to grips with his realisation that he was in love with her, or that she was willing to give her life for him. But the real reason he had avoided her was his betrayal. He knew in his head that what had almost happened with Claire was not his fault, but he still felt terrible about it. Somehow, he should have done more to stop Tom from using him like he did and letting it get that far. He should have stopped him sooner. Even though he hadn't done anything too terrible, on some level he had enjoyed having that power over Claire, and that made him feel sick to his stomach. Ginny deserved to be with someone stronger, someone with fewer problems… someone who did not give in so easily. His guilt was eating him up inside and, on those rare occasions when he did feel her reassurance, he resisted it. He deserved to feel terrible and he wouldn't let her take that away from him.

Stephen must have sensed his troubled thoughts. He began assigning him very meaningless and repetitive tasks that bored him to tears but kept his mind focused during those times when he would otherwise find himself brooding. When Harry asked him why, he simply laughed and said that often the most redundant tasks were useful in clearing a troubled mind. At first, Harry balked at the extra duties, but soon he saw the wisdom in keeping busy. It did give him less time to brood, and he actually found himself enjoying the meaningless jobs.

One of the things he was assigned had him magicking pebbles from the ground to form themselves into tiny pyramids. He had made over thirty before Stephen said he had done enough. Another assignment had him tracking and capturing mackled malaclaws on the beach using his senses and instincts to guide him. It was tedious work, and very boring – and he had to be very careful to stun the creatures before picking them up and throwing them back out to into the ocean. One mistake could be devastating because a bite would ensure him a week of bad luck and he didn't need that on top of everything else, with the match only a few days away. Stephen insisted he wear thick rubber gloves and boots just in case. In some respects it was very similar to denoming the Weasley's garden, which did not help keep his mind off Ginny, but in other ways it was quite satisfying when he caught one of the little buggars. He especially liked throwing them out to sea: it was rather like therapy to hear their tiny squeals, see them fly out over the waves, and plop into the ocean a safe distance away.

It was one of these times of combing the beach for the malaclaws, the day before the ballgame, when he turned suddenly to find himself face to face with Masaya. He had been so absorbed in his task he hadn't even noticed her approach.

"May I have a word?" she said stiffly. Her long black hair was loose and flowing in the breeze, but her expression was troubled.

Harry nodded. "Fine," he said just as stiffly.

He took off his gloves and headed for the blanket he had brought with him, along with his water bottle. Macoa had stayed behind in his room, lounging on his bed in the sun which filtered in from the window. The salt air and sand did not agree with her, and now that he had his sight back he did not need her to help him get around.

Harry noticed Masaya appeared nervous but determined, and uncharacteristically at a loss for words. She opened her mouth several times to speak but shut it again abruptly, like she didn't know how to begin.

Annoyed at her indecision, Harry said finally, "Well? Are you going to talk? I have a match to prepare for with your boyfriend, or have you forgotten?"

"Chac says you have improved."

She was obviously making an effort to keep her tone neutral and Harry didn't know what to make of that statement. "Chac is a good ballplayer," he said. "Your brother's taught me a lot about the sport, and he's become a good friend."

"My brother is very obedient and trusting." Her voice had a peculiar harsh tone to it, and she looked away nervously like she had just said something she shouldn't.

Harry sighed. He was tired of these games. "What do you want, Masaya?"

She seemed to steel her resolve and her demeanour took on an appearance of her former behaviour. She held her head high and seemed to try to look down her nose at him, but Harry knew she was finding it difficult. He simply didn't care anymore about anything other than getting strong enough to defeat Voldemort and going home to the people he loved. Her problems were trivial right now compared to his, and that must have shown through. She seemed disconcerted by his indifference.

"If you win, what are your intentions?"

Harry was truly surprised by her question. He had not even considered the fact that he might win. He was more interested in surviving than winning.

"My intentions?" His brow furrowed in confusion.

"What do you want?"

"I want to go home," Harry said. "That's all."

"Will I be… going with you?" she asked nervously, and Harry finally understood. She wanted to know what he intended to do about her.

"Oh…" he said in a rush of breath. "Well… no."

Her face showed a mixture of relief and disappointment. "I have dreamed of seeing your far-off land, but I would miss my home if I were I leave. When will you come back?"

"Umm… I can't really see myself needing to come back here, unless it's to visit Stephen." He was still slightly confused at her point.

Her face darkened. "You hate me so much that you would dishonour me so?"

"Er… huh?"

"You would leave me no better than a widow, untouchable by any man and forced into isolation because of your rejection." Here eyes clouded with tears. "I may not love you, but I would honour our union and treat you with respect. I can learn to be a good wife."

"Masaya," Harry said, "I don't want anyone to learn to be with me out of duty or responsibility. Life is too short to waste it on people we don't love. I want to be with someone who loves me, for me, not because she is given to me by her father like a bauble or trinket. I want… no, I need a woman who is willing to sacrifice her own life for mine – just like I'd do for her. I need to be with someone who needs me as much as I need her… not because she has to, but because she wants to. I need a person who supports me through everything, even when I'm a prat and can't express how I feel about her…."

Harry took her hands in his and held them tenderly. He could see the effect his words were having on her; it was like ice melting on a warm summer day. "I don't want to marry you. You're a beautiful woman and I'm sure there are many men who would kill to be your husband, but I'm not the person who can make you happy. That slot is already filled, I suspect, and you should be with him. Our destinies lie with other people, Masaya. I'm sorry…."

"Your lady is a very lucky woman, Harry Potter," she said, sniffing slightly.

Caught off guard, he answered, "No, I'm the lucky one."

She smiled sadly. "Your intentions are noble, but it does not change facts; I have been given to you. In the eyes of the law and my family, I now belong to you and if you choose to reject me, then so be it. My destiny is clear now."

Harry's face contorted with anger and he clutched her hands harder. "But that's not fair! You should be allowed to choose who you want to spend the rest of your life with!"

"I would beg you, if I thought it would do any good." She was crying in earnest now, and Harry could see the shame buried deep in her jumbled emotions.

It happened so fast, he didn't know where it come from, but he was hit with a hex that sent him hurling through the air and landing hard on his back, several feet away. He was trying to get the sand out of his face and right himself when a dark shadow moved in threateningly. Harry didn't stop to think, he just reacted.

Using his wandless magic, he sent a stunner of his own at the figure and was relieved to see the man hurl away from him with equal force, just long enough for him to get his bearings. Harry watched as Tlaloc rolled over quickly and threw himself in a defensive stance.

"Get away from her," he growled menacingly, matching Harry's stance. "If you are going to disgrace her in such a callous manner, then I will make sure you suffer just like she will suffer when you reject her!"

"Tlaloc, no!"

Masaya was pleading with him as Harry said calmly, "You don't understand…"

"What don't I understand? I understand that you would rather see this beautiful woman disgraced than accept her as your wife! I understand that you are a foreigner with no respect for our ways… our traditions!" He spat on the ground in defiance. "You are no God!"

"I never said I was!" Harry yelled in frustration. "You people think you understand everything, but you know nothing!" He pointed his finger at Tlaloc, who stared back at him angrily. "You hide here on your island and wish for Gods to come and save you, but what you should be doing is trying to save yourself!

"There is evil in this world that you know nothing about! People are dying – have died – trying to defend a lifestyle where men and women can choose whomever they want to marry and raise their children in safety where they don't have to fear evil Dark Lords or tyrants trying to do them in! All I want is to go home and try to do my part to see that more good people don't die needlessly. If I can stop him, I will – or I'll just be another victim in his quest for power. Either way, it doesn't matter because I'll have done everything in my power to see that justice is done, instead of sitting here on my arse and hoping someone else will take care of the problem!"

"Well said, Harry," a quiet voice said from behind, making him jump. For the third time that day he had been surprised by someone sneaking up on him, and he resolved to work on that. "Tlaloc is a hothead, but he should know better than to jump you the day before the match. He could be disqualified for this."

"That's okay, Hunter," Harry said. "Tlaloc was just leaving."

Tlaloc grunted angrily and shot Masaya a scathing look. "You should know better than to beg a foreigner, Princess," he said contemptuously.

Harry stepped in front of her protectively. "Again you jump to false conclusions. That's not what was happening here, at all. Masaya and I were coming to some conclusions about our situation and we agree on one thing… we want different things, different people, and we don't like being forced into a situation that is clearly wrong. Isn't that right, Masaya?"

"Yes, it is," she said quietly but firmly. Harry was relieved to see some of Tlaloc's anger fade with her admission.

"You have your answer," Stephen said coldly, "now leave. Harry is being generous, but I won't be for long, if you don't go."

"Very well," Tlaloc said proudly. "I'll be seeing you soon enough, Prince, and then we will settle this."

Harry was grateful to see him stalk off, angrier than ever, but at least he had stopped throwing hexes.

Masaya turned to Stephen. "Please, Xolotl, don't tell my father about this."

"He needs to know," Stephen said.

"No he doesn't," Harry said quietly, but with the authority of one much older than his years. "It's over. Tlaloc's gone now, and tomorrow I'll face him man to man. Then it will be over and I can go home. Leave it alone." With that he too stalked away, leaving the two of them half in shock, staring after him in wonder.

Stephen looked after Harry's retreating body and was struck by how grown up he appeared… shouldering a man's burdens and responsibilities. In the few weeks he had known him, the boy had truly been replaced by the man before him.

Beside him, Masaya whispered, "Whoever stole his heart, Xolotl… she is a very lucky woman."

Stephen looked at her sharply. "What did you say?"

She shrugged. "He is a man who loves a woman, and the woman is certainly not me. It is written plainly on his face. Don't you see?"

Hunter stared up at Harry's barely visible form as he reached the crest of the hill and wound his way back to the villa. Could it be that simple? All the odd looks, the odd behaviour, his mysterious "friend" who was in danger, his insistence on going home… "Why didn't I see it before?" he said aloud in amazement.

"Just like me, you were too short-sighted to look beyond the surface of the boy's exterior into the man's heart. She must be a very special woman to have captured the attention of such a powerful wizard. Perhaps she is even a goddess in disguise."

Hunter laughed. "Mixtecs have a bad habit of calling ordinary people deities."

Masaya looked at him seriously, her delicate face set in a hard line. "You show your true nature as a foreigner once again, friend. I may be young, but even I know that greatness, destiny, and the gods go hand in hand. What is written will come to pass because it must in order for this world to live on. I believe now that he is our Quetzalcoatl, your Harry Potter… but he is also a man with a man's vulnerabilities. The two of you have much work to do."

Still staring off at the place where he last saw Harry, Hunter found himself nodding. "We do, but one thing at a time, my dear. Tomorrow will be the true test."

"Yes," she answered sadly. "And I fear for my beloved, because he is trying to stand in the way of fate, and that is a terrible place to be."