Own Nothing
I hate this chapter. It's a bit slow and definitely awkward. I tried to rewrite this completely new four times, and I felt like I was just making it worse everytime, so here it is, for better or worse, another transition chapter that hopefully reveals a bit more about Harry's character, and I also wanted to make it very clear that Harry is mortal. He can die, he probably won't in the fic, but I wanted to make it clear why he's not running around challenging Voldemort now that he's powerful. His limits and Voldemort's own powers will begin to emerge as the character developing finally ends. Let me know how badly I screwed this up, and I'm updating it with Chapt 5 as apologies for the suckiness of this chapter. Chapter 5 has some action, and the adults start to notice the changes in Harry. By Ch 6, they'll be extremely worried about him, and Harry will begin to tease them with his abilities as well.
Chapter Four: Bring On the Rain
Once Harry was stable, the adults felt free to leave to their respective jobs and return later. They took shifts so that there was always a wizard with a portkey near Harry. There weren't nearly enough wards around the hospital to keep Voldemort at bay for long, and with all the articles being written about Harry and his death experience, there was no way he didn't know where Harry was. It was just mere luck that Voldemort had yet to reacquire his legions. His twenty or so loyal death eater weren't enough. He needed his armies back. So Potter would have to wait, especially since half the wizarding world was likely to apparate to their savior's side if he sneezed too hard.
Ron and Hermione came every other day to visit him. Everything was beginning to heal up, and the doctors finally declared him ready to go home, even if he did have an extensive list of things he'd have to do at the Weasley's. Mrs. Weasley took responsibility for the list. She was going to change bandages, watch the injuries, clean out the scars, and all the rest of the good stuff. While Harry didn't fancy exploring his extensive injuries, he didn't feel much better knowing Mrs. Weasley would be doing it. Harry stayed under the covers most of the time, and the doctors shooed everyone out before getting to work, so most of Harry's injuries remained a secret, along with all of his older scars.
Harry was still furious about the article, and he wrote a deliciously nasty letter to the Daily Prophet threatening to sue unless they issued a retraction. So they issued a retraction apologizing for the mistake. They assured everyone that his uncle had only tried to rape him, and concentrated much more on the seriousness of his beatings. It had been two weeks and they were still printing his horrid picture on the front page. Maybe Lockhart would have been proud.
Finally Harry was declared good enough to go home, much to Harry's relief. Dumbledore decided to be cautious, so he wanted to wait until Harry was cleared to leave by doctors, and Pomfrey insisted that magic and science were too similar to get along well. So only the occasional charm and potion was given, just enough to speed up the broken bones.
Nursing attendants helped Harry downstairs to the lobby of the hospital, and from there the Weasleys took him outside, and they all took a portkey. Harry hated portkeys, but short of apparating and giving himself away, he knew he didn't have a choice. So it was with some force that he slammed into the burrow, falling as his legs gave way. Bill and Charlie were there almost immediately to catch him and guide him over to a waiting sofa.
"Thanks," Harry said with a bit of nauseous look still glued on his face.
"You really don't look like you like portkeys," Ron said with a slight smile masking a bit of concern.
"Lets just say I'll be relieved when I can apparate," Harry replied.
"Got a couple years till that," Hermione said swiftly, running over from the kitchen with Ginny and a thick monster of a book.
"I know, I know," Harry responded, "And until then its spinning fireplaces and crash landings."
"Ron dear, bring Harry upstairs and let him rest a bit. Dinner will be ready in an hour," Mrs. Weasley said softly but in a demanding tone. Ron, Harry, and Hermione raced up the stairs. Fred and George appeared from their rooms and smiled maliciously before ducking back in followed quickly by explosions.
"I don't think I'd eat anything they give you," Ron said, glaring at the door, barely even noticing his protectiveness nor the black dog who was growling as he passed the twin's door. Sirius had told them, their parents had told them, even Snape had threatened them, not to go anywhere near Harry with those trick treats. Sirius had essentially become Harry's bodyguard since that night, much to Harry's dismay. There were spells he had to start. He pat Sirius on the head anyway, loving the old mutt even if he was an inconvenience.
The rest of the night went by smoothly. Ron and Harry played a bit of qujiddich, though Mrs. Wealsey made them promise to stay low to the ground. Remus and Sirius insisted on watching the game to make sure Harry didn't push himself or disobey Mrs. Weasley, as they knew damn well he would have done had they not been there. Harry's movements were a bit jerkier than usual, but he still beat them. All Ron's wins in chess throughout their hospital visits, however, had made up for the crushing defeat.
Dinner had been huge and delicious. Mrs. Wealsey insisted on stacking Harry's plate over and over. The Dursleys had starved him again and the hospital was practically facing accusations of child abuse for the rotten food they had shoved at him. Harry felt a bit queezy after everything, but he managed. A wandless digestion spell, and he was fine. Afterwards, they played a bit exploding snap, and Harry explained some muggle technology to Mr. Weasley.
Later that night, all the kids (meaning under eighteen and still in school) were sent to bed, except for Harry who had to go through his extensive list of medical crap. A few muggle things were traded for magical ones. All his bones were healed with magic, and some of his painkillers and sleeping pills were switched with potions Snape had made him, and probably poisoned. Next, Harry took off his shirt and allowed Mrs. Weasley to go through the list of changing everything. It was odd being that vulnerable and naked. Scars criss-crossed his chest and totally covered his back. Sirius growled again and raised his hackles. Finally, after everyone was done staring at his wounds in shock, Harry went upstairs and fell fast asleep.
The rest of the summer was similar. School was arriving and Harry had finally stopped being front page news (though he remained popular on the third page.) The Diagon trip was planned in two days, and Harry was on his way to full recovery. Madame Pomfrey and Snape had worked together with their magical cures and managed to reduce most of his scars, but the deeper and more recent ones on his arms and a few on his back remained. He was allowed to play Quidditch in the air now, much to the Weasley's joy. Even Bill and Charlie joined in the games, though they made Harry play keeper because he was too quick on the broom and the games always ended too quickly.
The Twins nearly gave everyone heart attacks, but they tried to stay away from their investor. A few treats here and there they snuck into Harry's food. No one was too upset till they pulled a trick on him called Demented Dementer. Harry was suddenly eight feet tall with black robes, scaly grey skin and extremely clumsy, hence demented. Everyone hollered at them for it, and Sirius eventually got back with some of his own stunts. He turned their skin pink with blue hair and made them glow neon throughout the night. They complained for a full week about sleep deprivation due to the intense lighting throughout the wee hours. Mrs. Weasley took five rolls of film, at least. She figured she could blackmail them with it later.
The house was quiet at the moment. Everyone was sleeping, or almost everyone. Harry pried his eyes open and looked around. He spotted Sirius lying on the rug in his dog form, and he quickly threw a wandless sleep charm over him. He did the same to Ron as he slowly uncocooned himself from the blankets and stood to his weary feet. He crept through the halls and down the stairs, careful to avoid all the creaks, which he was a professional at, considering his cousin's weight had all but broken their stairs in half. When he reached the kitchen, he slid the glass door open with ease and stepped into the cool night air.
He had been waiting for this night all summer. The moon was full and slightly orange, glowing with magic and majesty in the damp night air. The rain had been on and off all day, which was even more perfect. Harry's feet melted into the wet strands of grass as he continued to walk through the Weasley lawn and into a field nearby. The grass and weeds brushed by his calves, but the life mingling around him was so intoxicating that he didn't notice. He made his way to the middle of the field where he felt a fierce wave of magic begin to percolate within him. The center of the field, of its life force. This would be the spot.
Without further ado, he laid down in the weeds with the rough stems attacking his hair and skin. He spread his arms out and kept his legs straight. His eyes shut slowly, and he began to chant.
"Earth, air, fire, water…earth, air, fire, water…earth, air, fire, water," he whispered over and over, each time a bit louder and a bit more distanced. The magic within him was nearly exploding as he felt the moon's rays slide over his sleek form, felt the rain in his veins flowing through him like blood. The earth beneath his head was embracing him in a lover's hold, and the life of the forest, of the people living nearby, everything about life was burning into his heart and mind like fire. Without opening his eyes, he could see the world around him clearer than ever before. He could feel the centipede in the ground, sense the love between two lovebirds in the trees. He was connecting to the life of earth, and earth accepted him like an old friend.
His voice reached a peak that was slightly more whispered than a shout, and then softened as he reached his peak of power and began to invoke the earth, the air, the water, the fire that was flooding through him. Their powers invigorated him, and a knowing smile curled his lips as he called for the rain to come to him, and a downpour began to wipe the beads of perspiration from his forehead. He opened his eyes slowly and held out his hand. He called for fire, invoking the passion of life he had felt within him, and a silver fire roared in his palm.
Harry looked to the sky. The moon was glowing a nearly blinding white now, communing with Harry. He smiled, whispered a thank you to the elements that allowed his touch, his life to mingle with theirs, and he stood to his feet. His head spun a bit as he considered everything he'd just done, everything he would do. One part of him was inexpressibly happy. He felt whole again, like his powers had filled a gap in his life, a gaping hole in his very being. That was filled. But on the other head, the enormity, the responsibility…he felt it like a ton of bricks weighing on his chest.
"The games have begun," a feminine voice stated off to his right. The boy whipped around quickly, his gaze setting expectantly on the Light as she took a solid form, her red robes billowing around her as she eyed Harry anxiously.
"Not yet," Harry replied with a slight sigh. "This is just the warm-up." The woman smiled at him sweetly, already sensing his thoughts.
"It's fine to be nervous, Harry," she commented, but Harry's gaze become harder, much more stubborn and appropriate for denial purposes.
"I'm not," he declared, sounding so sure of himself even as his eyes glared holes into the ground. The Lady fought the urge to laugh. The perfect warrior indeed.
"Yea, why would you be? A nearly immortal menace running around invoking dark spirits, why would that worry you?" she asked, laughing softly before she forced Harry's chin up with a delicate but commanding finger. "You're only human. No one, not even I expect anything more or less from you than that. It's alright to be scared."
"I've dealt with evil before," he commented, "It's my purpose, remember, Lady?" The woman frowned, but nodded nonetheless, trying to keep her wits about her and remember that he was her only choice.
"How could I forget?" she asked softly. Harry looked up then, not used to her sounding mournful or the least bit regretful. He blinked as he eyed her, watched her eyes fill with remorse before they finally settled on a practiced blank look. He sighed again before looking into her eyes.
"I was serious. I've dealt with goddesses and dark mages before. This is just another walk in the park," he joked, flashing a smile that seemed to warm the skies.
"You are mortal, Mr. Potter, and I pray you remember that you have died before, and it is possible to die again." She was back to being playful, as well, but her underlying message was sincere and chastising. Harry had Arthur's shyness and humble modesty, but he had a good deal of Godric's idiotic bravery to balance the king's reasoning abilities. She didn't want to watch the idiot child run head long into a battle, but Harry seemed to remember his death all too clearly, one of the few memories from Arthur's life that was apparently quite vivid for him. His eyes were a bit clouded over for a moment, pain flashing through him as he remembered death, momentarily longing for it, before he came back into himself and smiled. His Godric persona always smiled. If hell rose, if the devil himself made the sky fall down, he would have smiled.
"I'll be careful, Lady," Harry promised, and the woman smiled thankfully.
"Don't go after him until you're ready for that," she suggested, and Harry smiled again before he shrugged.
"And, pray tell, how many more invocations do you expect me to pull before I'll be ready? I already have the earth, the skies, the fire, and air. You want me to invoke more? It's crowded enough in there as it is," he stated with a laugh.
"I imagine so, but that's not what I meant," the Light replied. "Don't do it until you're ready to accept it. You haven't told anyone, yet, Harry. Your godfather, your friends, your adopted family…if you're not ready to tell them the truth, then you're not ready to lead the world in this battle." She watched Harry carefully then, watching the guarded look of denial return. Bloody hell, she thought. Maybe accusing him of not being prepared was a bad way to deal with the issues of male egoism.
"I want my powers to be a surprise for Voldemort. I'm perfectly capable of leading the battle, I'm merely choosing my moment." The Light smiled at him, knowing he would drive her crazy before eternity found its end.
"You trust those people with your life they trust you with theirs. Pray tell, unless you expect one of them to run off and tell Voldemort about your abilities, how are your lying to them and trying to surprise Voldemort in anyway connected?" Harry passed her a death glare that could practically kill in its own right before he remembered himself and allowed the gaze to break. He slumped a bit, posture falling from regal to distinctly teenager.
"The powers are fine and all. I'm used to them, I feel…I don't know…more complete with them. I just…I'm not ready for all the attention, all the fame…as though I don't have enough already with the bloody newspapers printing that horrid photo everywhere."
"Take your time Harry. There are ways to fight from the shadows until your ready. Invocations, inventions, reading up on Voldemort's semi-immortality…there are ways to amuse yourself." The boy nodded and smiled at her.
"Thanks, but I much rather play Quidditch, thank you very much," he responded playfully. The Light rolled her eyes.
"That asinine game? Oh lord, and you're their savior? Heaven help them." Harry gave a mock growl before throwing a water ring at the Lady, who quickly vaporized it and tossed a fire ball at him with a throaty laugh that coated the air with its sweet sound.
For the casual observer, the two were trying to kill one another, spells flying one way then the other, invoked elements being formed and hurled. They knew each other's limits however, or rather, the Light knew Harry's limits. The Lady, herself, didn't particularly have any. She was immortal. She loved sparing with the boy, however, and she could tell Harry enjoyed it. Play fighting reminded them both of the beauty of magic, the power of it. By the end of the night, Harry was much more relaxed, his elements properly trained. He was more at ease with them, and the new powers seemed to be quite at home.
After a good hour of spells and manifestations, the Light finally bid ado, throwing a well placed numb charm at Harry before disappearing into the white mist of morning. Harry hollered as his leg crumpled from beneath him. He hated that, but it is well known that payback's a bitch, so he uncast himself and hobbled a bit towards the house, his gait a bit more confidant. He had her permission to wait before making himself known, before taking up his position as a general in the war. He also felt his lives meld a bit more evenly as he called on their various knowledge and powers, finding certain personalities and characteristics emerging in certain situations. He was about to become the man he was born to be in this lifetime.
He smiled as he headed towards the house. He knew none of his lifetimes would be easy, none of them simple, and he knew he was going to have to kill Rita Skeeter before the war's end, but he felt inexpressibly strong in that moment, the elements swimming beneath his skin, the adrenaline pumping…a bit more time, and he would be ready. Just a bit more, and he would head into his destiny with banners a-waving. Once he got the balls to actually let people know about his powers that is. He flinched as the image of awe struck family came to mind, but then he forced himself to relax. Right now, everything was perfect.
