| Get
Four DVDs for $.49 each. Join now. |
Tell
me when this page is updated |
Chapter Eighteen: Flight of the Phoenix
"My Dear Voldemort. It has been
much too long."
Harry could see Voldemort's face flicker-- it even looked as though he
had, ever so slightly, flinched.
Harry had never seen Dumbledore as incensed as he looked at that moment:
his eyes focused and menacing, the usual soft, gentility about him completely
gone. No-- Dumbledore looked every bit as dangerous as Voldemort.
Snape and Harry, from their fetal positions on the ground, watched and
listened intently.
Voldemort turned around to face Dumbledore ever so slowly.
"Albus."
"You didn't think I'd leave myself as such an easy target, did you? I
thought you were smarter than that." His eyes drifted down to Fawkes' limp body.
"Thank you, Fawkes. That will do."
And upon that, Fawkes immediately screeched a reply and rose from the
ground, flapping his wings happily next to Dumbledore.
"Very useful," said Dumbledore, "to have a pet who just happens to be
immortal." He smiled. "It looks as though I missed quite an impressive show
tonight. Sorry I was late." He looked down. "Seems you've been having another
chat with Harry tonight. Harry, Severus, it's quite all right-- you may get up."
Snape and Harry exchanged a look of momentary hesitance and then obeyed
wordlessly.
"Fawkes will take you home."
Voldemort glared at Harry and Snape.
"Voldemort, times have changed since you've been gone. People have been
given a taste of what peace of mind feels like and they
like it. They
love it. And they will do
anything to protect it. I warn you now,
Voldemort. If you intend to carry out your plan, be aware that the fight will
not be an easy one. as dedicated as you are to your own selfish cause, we are
just as dedicated, if not moreso, to
our cause."
"You are still the foolish old man you've always been, Albus."
"And you are still the disillusioned little boy that you have always
been, Voldemort. I should have thought that by now you would have realized your
entire creed can not prevail--"
"We shall see about that, Albus."
"Indeed, we shall." He paused, "Fawkes-- please take Harry and Snape
back. I shall be right behind you."
Harry and Snape each grabbed a tight hold of Fawkes' tail feathers.
"We will meet again, Albus," Harry heard Voldemort say as Fawkes rose
gently off the ground.
"I am counting on it," was Dumbledore's answer-- they were now too high
off the ground to hear anymore-- Voldemort and Dumbledore were nothing more than
two specks in a field of grass-- and then they were nothing at all. Fawkes was
happily soaring though the soft clouds into the middle of the night-- the air
was cold, but Fawkes' body was warm and comforting.
The second Phoenix appeared at that moment, next to Fawkes, flapping his
wing proudly. Even in Phoenix form, Dumbledore still held that twinkle in his
eye. His head turned to face Harry and Snape-- they held their gaze-- and then
he returned, focused, on the horizon.
Harry turned to face Snape: his eyes were closed and he suddenly seemed
older. His face was tired, lines visible around his mouth and eyes, his hair
mangled and robes soiled--souvenirs of the past two days. Harry knew that he
must have looked just as disheveled as Snape-indeed, his own hands were covered
in dirt.
"P-Professor Snape," Harry said quietly, his voice rather hoarse from all
the yelling and screaming of the past few hours. Snape's tired eyes opened and
looked at Harry, waiting.
Harry was still uneasy when talking to Snape alone and stumbled over his
words, "A-are you okay?"
Snape kept his stare on Harry and then finally answered, "Yes. . ." he
paused. "Although. . . I doubt I'll be able to walk for at least a week."
Harry smiled-as did Severus! Professor
Snape had
smiled at
Harry!
"Yeah," he agreed, "I think that all five of us are going to be with
Madame Pomfrey for a couple days!"
Snape let out a low,
soft chuckle.
And then Harry frowned. "Professor Snape . . . Draco-"
"Draco's father is a very controlling man. Draco doesn't have the freedom
that you think he has, living with someone like Lucius."
"He tried to come with us-"
"Yes," Snape said slowly. "Yes, he did. I was surprised . . . even
glad to see it. But-"
"Draco doesn't have a choice, does he. Because of who he father is."
Snape took a breath. "We
all have a choice. It's just that for
others that choice is much more difficult to make."
After that, it was only the wind that made any noise between them. The
gentle flapping of Fawkes' wings and the unbearable softness of the air below
him reminded Harry just how tired he was, and soon he was drifting into sleep.
*
Harry woke with a start from a very restless sleep. He was sweating, his
heart pounding and for a moment he almost thought that everything had been one
horrendous nightmare. Then his eyes focused on Professor Snape about five feet
away from him, curled up tightly in a blanket, sleeping soundly. He rubbed his
eyes and found that he was sitting on a grassy hilltop, the moon was incredibly
bright and the world below it glowed a bluish-black. The wind was frigid and
Harry pulled his own blanket closer around him-where were they?
"You're supposed to be sleeping, Harry."
It was Dumbledore who was standing overtop him, putting to ease his
growing sense of panic.
'Where are we?"
Dumbledore laughed softly. "Well, I'm not as young as I used to be.
Fawkes could have lasted the entire journey, but not myself-I needed a moment to
rest. We aren't far from Hogwarts now- we will be there by daybreak." Dumbledore
nodded towards Snape, "And Severus said he wouldn't mind a nap." His eyes came
back to Harry. "How are you feeling?"
"Exhausted. . ." he said plainly. "absolutely exhausted."
"Little wonder with everything that you've been through these past few
days. I received word that you were in the Cove, heading to see Orod and I knew
that I had to reach you as soon as possible. Word was that with the freeing of
Azkaban, they were headed for the Caledonian Forest directly--you were not safe
there. Fawkes and I reached Orod's den too late and he told us what had
happened. I sent Fawkes ahead as a decoy-"
"Because Voldemort knew your animagus is a Phoenix?"
"Correct. He'd most definitely love to get rid of myself more than all of
you combined, I should think. I wish we would have arrived sooner-we cut things
a bit
too close for my blood."
"And. . . now what?"
"You mean Voldemort?" Dumbledore couldn't shake the sadness that had
appeared in his eyes. "I must be honest and say. . . I don't know, Harry."
"I . . . I heard what you were saying to him about being ready to fight
for our cause. It sounded like you were talking about war. . ."
"And so I was. A war is a conflict, isn't it? One side trying to conquer
the other? That is precisely what Voldemort is waging--a war against everything
decent and kind and
good. I. . . don't know what Voldemort is thinking
right now. But I do know that whatever he devises, his efforts will fail. He
will not win this war, Harry."
Harry tried to be confident, but the memory of Voldemort -- his red eyes
his shrill voice, seeing his friends suffer, watching his friends die-- it was
all too much. For the moment, the situation seemed completely hopeless.
"How can you be so sure," Harry asked quietly.
Dumbledore appeared momentarily surprised that Harry should even find it
necessary to ask such a question. "Harry- the simple fact is that evil can not
prevail over good. It may
seem that way, oh yes, it may most definitely
appear that way. But never, and I mean
never, has evil ever
completely triumphed over good." He smiled and lowered his voice to
whisper, "It's in the stars, you know."
Harry and Dumbledore both laughed-- Snape stirred, mumbling in his sleep,
pulling the blanket overtop his head.
"What did you think of Orod?" Dumbledore asked.
"Oh, he was beautiful!"
"Yes, stunning creatures, Gryphons.
Tremendous strength."
"So I've heard."
"Noble and
loyal. Loyal right down to death, and many times even
after."
Harry nodded, remembering Orod's words about Godric Gryffindor.
Dumbledore seemed to be on a similar vein. "Godric Gryffindor was just such a
man--fearless and brave, but most importantly, he was loyal. Loyal to his
friends right down to death. . ." he paused. "Much like you, Harry."
Harry cast his eyes downward, not wanting to hear himself compared to
Godric Gryffindor in any way, shape or form. The very idea of drawing
similarities to such a great man was, in Harry's mind, completely ridiculous.
"And really," Dumbledore was saying, "like your father before you. . ."
Harry looked up at Dumbledore--his eyes were staring directly into
Harry's.
". . . and his father before him. . . and his father before him. . ."
Harry's heart skipped a beat. Exactly what was Dumbledore getting at? He
sat, perfectly still, unable to move. There was an inkling gnawing away in the
back of his mind, but. . . no . . .
"Professor, what are you saying?"
"I'm saying, Harry, that it's time for the truth."
"The truth?"
"About who you are."
Harry's stomach churned and he felt like he was going to be sick,
suddenly mortified of what he was about to hear.
Dumbledore sighed. "I just didn't realize it would have to be so soon.
Your father didn't know until he was already a man--until he was
ready."
Harry was starting to sweat.
Dumbledore took a seat upon the soft ground, his stare wise gaze fixed
most keenly upon Harry. "You know, of course, the history of our school. Salazar
Slytherin and Godric Gryffindor being such fantastic rivals. . . and of course a
few years ago you found out just who Slytherin's heir was."
"How could I forget?" said Harry, the memory of the chamber of secrets
sending a chill through him.
"Well, did it not occur to you that Godric Gryffindor would likewise have
an heir?"
Harry sat perfectly still.
"Someone descending directly from his bloodline? I knew such a man--years
ago."
Please, make him stop staring at me like that . . .
"A man who went by the name George Potter. He had a son, James. But
George died before he ever got to see his son James marry- he did not know that
he would one day have a grandson named Harry."
Harry couldn't
breathe let alone say anything.
This is some
sort of joke. A very terrible joke--Dumbledore should know better than to joke
around with things like this.
"Yes. . .
you, Harry. It's
you."
Harry was feeling lightheaded-like he was going to faint on the spot.
" That's why Voldemort wanted only to kill your father and yourself--you
are Godric's
heir. James never knew of his lineage until his father told
him upon his deathbed. It was difficult for James to accept and he was in his
twenties! But Harry, this is important for you to know
now. So you know
that this battle with Voldemort doesn't go back just a couple of decades, but
for centuries. Back to the founding of Hogwarts itself." He sighed. "I know you
can't grasp this all right now, but--Sirius and I both agreed it was best for
you to know. Your father never had to deal with this as you have."
Finally, his voice found him again. "But . . . I didn't ask to. . . I
didn't
want --"
"You didn't ask for this, yes, but nonetheless it is
in you,
Harry. In your blood, which is something no one can change. It's who you
are. Just as Slytherin's blood is
in Voldemort. Only . . ."
Dumbledore's face darkened, "Voldemort hopes to be the last heir--"
"Meaning he's still trying to find a way to become immortal?"
"Indeed. More than ever. He knows who you are, Harry. You are the last of
an entire
creed. The last of Helga Hufflepuff's descendants died centuries
ago and Rowena Ravenclaw's heir, well, of course you remember my dear friend
Nicolas Flammel? He was the last of her bloodline."
"So he was using the Philosopher's Stone to stay alive so that he could
keep her line going . . ."
"Amazing the way everything fits, eh Harry? So of the original Hogwarts
Four, there are only two descendants left: Voldemort and yourself." He leaned
closer, "but I will let you in on a little secret: Hufflepuff and Ravenclaw's
heirs wouldn't have stood a chance against Voldemort. But
you do."
The words couldn't be true. Of course Dumbledore would never lie to him,
but. . . oh how he wished this really
was just a lie. He didn't want to
be Gryffindor's heir anymore than he wanted to be 'famous Harry Potter.'"
"Professor, I don't want to sound horrible, but. . ." against his will,
his eyes were tearing up. "I don't
want to be this. I want nothing more
than to be able to live life like Ron or Hermione -- free and not having to
constantly worry about how much longer I have until he tries to attack again."
The tears fell and out came everything, "And my
friends Dumbledore,
they're in danger for even knowing me! First Cedric's death and then this year
with Imelda, I almost got Ron and Sophie killed--Ariah and Snape-"
"HARRY," said Dumbledore firmly.
Harry sniffled and wiped his eyes with his sleeve.
"You
saved your friends. They did not nearly die because of you,
the nearly died because of Lord Voldemort's deplorable, obsessive grudge. If the
grudge weren't with you, it would be someone else.
You are the reason
that Ron is at this moment arriving at Hogwarts and will sleep in his bed safely
another night. And do not forget that." He spoke with utmost urgency. "You can
not doubt yourself. It is then that Voldemort can easily overcome you.
Remember that your power is in your friends-you are not alone. That is the truth
of it."
Harry nodded and Dumbledore brushed his hair with his fingertips. "We
will see you through this. Myself, Sirius-" he smiled, "I even understand that
you have had time to bond with our dear Professor Snape."
Harry coughed. "I wouldn't call it bonding. . . but. . . well, did you
know that Professor Snape has a sense of
humor?!?"
Dumbledore laughed. "Yes, he does keep it rather well hidden!"
Harry was laughing now, remembering that hilarious night spent in The
Cove. "Yes, well I have to admit, we did make a great team tonight. It was more
him than me, of course."
"He told me the opposite."
"Oh?"
He nodded wisely. "He accredits it all to you. Said he was merely
helping." Dumbledore could see the shock on Harry's face. "You see Harry, people
are not
always what they may seem."
"Yes. So I've begun to notice." And then he remembered!
"Oh!" He cried, reaching into his robe and pulling out the long, dark
wand that so resembled his own. "I. . . I don't know how to tell you this, but.
. . I have Voldemort's wand."
Dumbledore removed his spectacles and stared in disbelief. "Are you . . .
certain?"
"Yes! I . . ." he paused, "Er. . . I disarmed him, got his wand and,
well, he never had a chance to get it back-"
"Then he must have yours?"
"Well, I left it behind somewhere."
Dumbledore laughed. He threw his head back and let out a roar of
laughter--Snape stirred irritably in the background. "Oh," he said, wiping a
tear from his eye, "Oh Harry--that is the best news that I've had for a long
time."
"But Dumbledore! I can't . . .
use it! It's, well, it's
bad!"
"Nonsense! There is nothing wrong with the wand! It's only a wand after
all. It's the
holder of the wand who determines its worth."
Harry lowered his eyes, the wand suddenly feeling heavy in his hands.
"It's the wand that killed my parents. . . and gave me my scar."
"It's safe with you, Harry. Never again will it work evil now that you
have it."
There was still something else bothering him. "Did . . . did Snape tell
you how I disarmed. . ."
"Yes. Severus was most anxious to tell me. And Sirius had told me earlier
about your possibly being a Free-Hander." His voice was soft and understanding.
"Voldemort inherited his gift of parselmouth from Slytherin and you have
inherited the ability of being a Free-Hander from Gryffindor. You realize that
doing something of that magnitude-- disarming someone at voice command only--
takes a great deal of
strength. Most fall faint after merely attempting
it, let alone attempting it
successfully. And I understand you next
produced a Patronus, did you not?"
Harry nodded.
"Well, I should think that perhaps now Voldemort will think twice about
picking a fight with you." Dumbledore winked. "Now I think it's best if we get
on our way once more. Minerva will be in a frightful panic until we return-as
will Sirius and Hagrid. Sirius was especially angry that I would not let him
accompany me-hasn't had one wink of sleep since you've been away."
Everything inside of Harry lit up. "Sirius! Then he's
alive!"
Dumbledore nodded wisely. "Yes, quite. Thanks to Hagrid, the rest of the
students made it back to Hogwarts safely and after spending the night under
Madame Pomfrey's supervision, his leg is quite healthy."
Harry smiled upon hearing that-- it had been the perfect remedy for
everything that was ailing him. He was going home now! Sirius would be there
waiting for him. He took hold of Fawkes' tail feathers once again, Professor
Snape following suit, still in a sleepy stupor, and they took flight once more
into the horizon, the sun rising ever so slowly in the distance.
*
Harry woke up in his dorm room, daylight shining through the window.
"All right, Harry?"
It was Ron, sitting on the edge of Harry's bed.
"
Ron," Harry cried and sat straight up, throwing his arms around
his friend. Harry was weak, and his body ached, but he'd never been more
thrilled to see anyone in his life. "Thank goodness- you all right then?"
"Yeah," he said smiling. "Sore as hell, though. Not exactly the most
comfortable ride, Gryphons."
Harry couldn't help his silly grin--Ron was
alive. It was enough
to make him want to cry!
Ron was staring at Harry with a similar smile. "But apparently a lot
faster than Phoenix's. What took you lot so long?"
"Oh, we took a breather," he said dismissively, "but you're okay, that's
what's important! And Sophie? Where is she?"
"Oh, Minerva put her up for the night in a guest room and Hermione stayed
up with her."
"How is she doing?"
"Sophie? Oh hell, Harry, she looked horrible when I saw her. I mean. . .
last night was a nightmare."
"That's putting in lightly."
"Is this . . . what it's like for you."
Harry raised his brow.
"You know what I mean. I haven't slept a wink all night--all I could
think of was
him. Harry, those
eyes. And all I could hear was . .
. the
screaming. And then I remembered that you've been through this
before. Is . . . is this what it's like for you every day? Trying to live with
it all?"
Harry nodded slowly. "Yes. You never really forget it."
And then Ron got out what he
really wanted to know. "How. . . did
you do that? With Voldemort? Disarming him without a wand?"
Harry looked down. "I. . . don't know. I didn't ever realize what I was
doing until it was already done."
"Yeah, but
how? You didn't have a wand!"
Harry couldn't look at Ron. Everything that Dumbledore had told him
during the night was still fresh in his mind-- being the heir of Godric
Gryffindor. . .
But Ron wasn't to know anything of this. Harry could barely admit it to
himself let alone anyone else.
He shook his head. "Ron, I honestly don't know how. Believe me, I wish I
did. I suppose it was just . . . the energy of the moment."
"Like adrenaline?"
"Yeah-that's right."
Ron seemed to accept this, although Harry could tell he was still turning
over ideas in his head. "Er. . . I was supposed to come in here to let you know
that Sirius wants to see you. He was here at your bedside all this morning, but
you didn't wake up."
Harry jumped to his feet. "Where is he?"
"His classroom, of course."
Harry threw on some trousers and a shirt. "He was here this morning?"
"Yeah. So was Hermione-- she wanted so much to talk to you, but didn't
have the heart to wake you up."
"How is Hermione," he asked, running a comb through his hair.
"She seemed to be . . ."Ron paused and them grinned deviously. "she
seemed to be
very happy to see me."
Harry grinned and punched Ron on his shoulder. "You sly dog. I'll catch
you in a bit-- gotta talk to Sirius!" And with that, he bolted down the
corridor, out of the common room, down the staircases and made a beeline for
Sirius' office. He burst in through the door, huffing, and spotted Sirius
sitting on the side of his desk.
"
Sirius!" Harry cried and ran to his side, throwing his entire
weight on top of him. Sirius' arms held Harry tightly and protectively--
"Harry," he said warmly, "thank
heavens you're all right! Let me
look at you!"
Sirius studied his Godson. "Oh, you look a fright--"
"I'm
fine Sirius, but
you! Your leg--"
"Still a bit stiff, but Madame Pomfrey really is a miracle worker."
"I was worried sick! I didn't know if you'd--"
"I was perfectly fine, thanks to Hagrid here."
Harry looked up and found Hagrid smiling down at him. In Harry's
excitement, he hadn't even noticed Hagrid who'd been standing there plain as day
(which is really saying something since Hagrid wasn't exactly easy to miss!)
"Hagrid!" Harry shouted and landed him with a similar bear hug.
Hagrid chuckled. "There, there, Harry."
And then it hit him--
Hagrid still thought Sirius Black
was
serial killer! He hated Sirius Black! Harry broke away from Hagrid,
looking at Sirius apprehensively. "Er. . . Hagrid, d-do you know about who
Professor Gray is--"
"Oh, aye, o' course! Dumbledore told me when term started! Told me the
whole story, he did. Have to tell ya, I was dead
relieved to hear it.
'Specially because it means you have real family, Harry."
Harry sighed in relief, and then turned back to Sirius. "I really thought
I'd lost you, Sirius."
"
You? Harry,
I was the one who was worried sick! I thought
I'd lost
you!"
"Well, I promise that I'll never leave you, if you promise the same."
"It's a bargain," said Sirius and they hugged again.
"Well!" said Hagrid, "I have ter get goin'-- gotta finish up preparin'
all yer finals, Harry!" He winked and then left the two alone.
Sirius' smile was soft, and his gaze was fixed on Harry. "Dumbledore-- he
told me everything. And I am sorry to hear about Imelda. She was a wonderful
lady."
Harry's throat tightened at the very mention of that name.
"And, I also hear that he. . . told you. About . . . well, about you know
what."
Harry nodded.
"I just want you to know that I'm here, if you ever need to talk. It's
not an easy thing to deal with. . ." he paused. "I was the first person that
James told once he found out about who he was and I remained the only person--
save for Lily, of course."
"I will, Sirius." And then he paused, "Does. . . this mean that you're
staying on as the Defense professor?"
Sirius bowed. "At your service. Finally putting to rest that silly
superstition about the position, eh?"
"Oh everyone is gonna be thrilled! You're the best we've had since. . .
Lupin!" He lowered his voice, "actually, you're
better than Lupin, but
don't tell him I said that!"
Sirius laughed and there was a knock on the door. Professor McGonagall
entered.
"Oh!" said Harry, smiling upon sight of her, "Hello, Professor!"
"Good Afternoon, Harry," she said brightly. "It is indeed good to have
you back with us!"
"Thank you, Professor."
"I'm here to tell you that Professor Dumbledore wishes to see you in his
office, Mr. Potter. I hope you'll pardon the intrusion, Professor Gray?"
"Oh course," he said.
Harry waved good-bye to Sirius and followed McGonagall outside and down
the hall towards the great Gargoyle entrance to Dumbledore's office. She
announced the password ("Dillweed Pepper"), the Gargoyle moved aside, and Harry
walked up the escalator-like staircase alone. He entered Dumbledore's charmingly
untidy office and found him to be already waiting-- as was Sophie.
"Sophie!" Harry cried, his heart breaking upon seeing her face-- tired,
drawn and eyes devoid of their usual magnetic spark.
"Hi Harry," she said, standing up, somewhat unsteadily.
It was the most unbelievable sensation: everything around him seemed to
disappear into unimportance upon sight of her. And his pulse-- it was beating
just as rapidly as it had last night when he was face to face with Voldemort!
Not knowing or caring what was appropriate for such a moment, he came to her
side and threw his arms around her. Sophie's body fell comfortably into his
embrace-- as though it had always belonged there. He buried his face into her
soft hair and whispered quietly, "I'm sorry, Sophie. I'm
so sorry. . ."
He could feel her tighten her grip upon him and her voice trembled as she
spoke. "I'm just s-so glad you're here-- you have no idea--"
"No, I
do," he said, pulling away to get a look at her face: her
eyes were red and it looked like she must have been aching from fatigue. "I
understand Sophie, and-- I'm here for you."
His own eyes were welling with tears and he cleared his throat, turning
his attention to Dumbledore who had probably anticipated such a meeting and had
been waiting patiently.
"Good afternoon, Sir."
"Hello, Harry. Feeling better today?"
"Oh yes-- thanks."
"Harry, I've called you here to ask you if you would perhaps accompany
myself and Miss Banbury tomorrow morning. I am coming with Miss Banbury to
inform her father of the situation and I understand that he is quite fond of you
and you are of him?"
Harry nodded. "Yes-- yes and of course I'll go."
"Excellent. Then please meet us here at half past nine tomorrow morning.
I have already sent an owl ahead to Mr. Banbury and he is expecting us there."
He turned to Sophie. "That is all, Miss Banbury. Professor McGonagall is waiting
downstairs to take you back to your room-- I believe Miss Granger will be up for
a visit soon."
Sophie nodded and managed a smile-- albeit weakly-- and then turned to
leave.
"Harry," said Dumbledore once she'd gone, "Have you read the news today?"
He handed Harry a copy of the morning's Daily Prophet. The headline
read:
MINISTRY TO PREVENT POSSIBLE DISASTER.
In a bold move, the Ministry of Magic stormed a
cave in the Caledonian Forest, which was housing a meeting of Dark Lord
supporters. The meeting suggests that the dark movement is once again on the
rise. Cornelius Fudge, Minister of Magic, is quoted as saying "the re-appearance
of the Dark Lord himself is not only possible, but probable." He was quick to
add, "however, the deplorable attempted deeds of the death eaters were thwarted
thanks to the ministry, and we are currently launching a massive campaign to
squelch all dark activity. There was one casualty to the Ministry: Imelda
Banbury who served the ministry Special Investigations' department for over
twelve years."
"Unbelievable," Harry breathed. "How can they
print this
rubbish?"
"It's called saving face." Dumbledore sighed. "At least Fudge knows that
now the truth is undeniable. He has even asked to meet with me."
"I bet he's scared out of his wits."
"He's brought it upon himself. Everything that happened this weekend
could have most likely been avoided had the ministry been on
top of
things. Now they'll be running to catch up." Dumbledore shook his head and then
said, "Tomorrow. Half past nine, Harry."
"Yes, of course. Thank you sir." **
Chapter Nineteen: Willow Vale
The next morning, Harry was awake
at the crack of dawn, as was Ron who'd been unable to sleep as well. They were
the first in the great hall for breakfast, and Harry excused himself early to go
up to meet with Dumbledore and Sophie. Dumbledore informed him that they would
be traveling via Floo Powder, as it was the fastest method and not to mention,
the
only way of getting into Privet Drive.
Harry cringed: he
hated Floo Powder with a passion. Dumbledore
explained how to travel with the powder to a very apprehensive looking Sophie.
He stepped her into the fireplace and she recited "Three Privet Drive" as loudly
as she could and with a great burst of green smoke, she vanished. Dumbeldore
followed which left Harry. He was soon once again whizzing past an endless lane
of fireplace grates.
He came tumbling out of the fireplace at three Privet Drive and he hopped
to his feet, coughing, shaking the soot from off his clothes. Dumbledore and
Sophie were already in the Banbury's living room, and he was ever so relieved
that he hadn't ended up in Knockturn Alley again!
"SOPHIE!"
Roger had fallen to his knees and Sophie plunged herself into her
fathers' embrace, sobbing into his shirt. Roger was stroking Sophie's hair,
telling her over and over again how much he loved her. Harry watched, absolutely
crushed at the sight of Roger on his knees.
"Oh my darling girl! I've been worried sick--"
"I'm here, Dad. I'm here."
Roger finally stood up and acknowledged the other two guests in his home.
"Harry," he said, grabbing his hand. "It's good to see you, my boy."
"And you as well, Sir."
"Mr. Banbury?" said Professor Dumbledore softly.
"Yes-- hello." He extended his hand.
"My name is Albus Dumbledore-- headmaster at Hogwarts."
"Oh, yes, I've heard much about you. Won't you please sit down?"
They did so-- Sophie's hand firmly clasped to her fathers. Dumbledore
removed his spectacles and gave Roger his utmost attention. His voice was silk
as he spoke, and Roger sat tall,, as if he already knew what was coming.
"Mr. Banbury, we have identified the person who abducted your wide and
daughter two days ago."
Roger put his hand to his heart. "Thank God. Who was he?"
"It was actually your wife's sister-- Delphine Lestrange."
"Delphine," Roger whispered. "But-- how? I thought she was locked away in
your wizard prison."
"Indeed, she was until this past Chrismas. I am to assume that you are
familiar with whom the Dark Lord is?"
Roger nodded. "He-- he hasn't returned . . ."
"I'm afraid so. And your sister-in-law and her husband were freed from
prison at his hand. It was then that Delphine came to visit Imelda-- only what
she did next was unthinkable. She hid Imelda-- kept her a captive here, in her
own home-- and assumed her place."
"You mean that all this time Imelda has really been --"
"Delphine. Yes."
Roger ran his hands through his hair. "How could I have not known!"
"You mustn't blame yourself, Mr. Banbury. You were at the mercy of some
very powerful dark magic. No man would have been any wiser in your shoes-not
even a wizard." Dumbledore cleared his throat. "She had devised a horrific plan,
Delphine did. She'd wanted to deliver your wife, Harry here and two professors
from my school into the hands of the Dark Lord."
"Harry is the reason that I'm here right now, Dad," said Sophie. "He
saved all our lives."
Mr. Banbury smiled at Harry and then took a shaky breath. "All your
lives?"
The room fell terribly quiet. Dumbledore's words were soft and gentle. "I
am sorry, Mr. Banbury. I wish I could have arrived sooner, but Delphine had
already taken your wife."
Harry's gaze was stuck on the floor, unable to look at Mr. Banbury. The
sound was horrible enough-- he could hear Mr. Banbury's muffled whimpers, the
desperate attempt to keep inside what must, inevitably, come out. And when he
finally did find the courage to look at him, he found Roger and Sophie embracing
each other, rocking back and forth gently, tears streaming down their faces.
Much like the silent tears that were finding their way down Harry's own face.
It was a painful afternoon. Roger received an Urgent Owl from Imelda's
parents to let him know they would be coming by that very afternoon. Harry was
sure it would be to discuss funeral arrangements. After Roger phoned his own
mother and father with the news, and Mr. and Mrs. Banbury senior arrived towards
the late afternoon directly from Bexhill, absolutely distraught with the news.
Imelda's parents-- Rosalinda and Ambrose Arlington-- burst through the fireplace
just after four o' clock, and the family sat together in the living room.
The conversation was quiet and somber and peppered with occasional
outbursts from Roger's mother and Rosalinda Arlington. Sophie looked emotionally
drained and Harry decided perhaps it might be a good idea to step out for some
fresh air. They disappeared into the backyard, Sophie still trembling somewhat.
"
Harry?" Harry spun around to find Dudley Dursley peering over the
fence. Harry had completely forgotten about Dudley. It had seemed like years
since he'd seen him and there was a split second that Harry even forgot Dudley
wasn't exactly the same person he'd grown up with.
"Dudley--"
"What are you
doing here? You're supposed to be at school!" He
looked at Harry, then at Sophie, then at Harry again. "What-- something's
happened, hasn't it. Sophie. . . what's wrong?"
"Come 'round the fence," said Harry.
Dudley did so, marching up to them, concern written all over his
incredibly thinner face.
"It's Mrs. Banbury," said Harry. "She's. . . she's died."
Dudley's mouth fell. He blinked stupidly for a moment and then,
hesitantly, reached out for Sophie. Sophie hugged him and Dudley closed his
eyes. "No, Sophie, it can't be. . ." he opened his eyes again and looked to
Harry for help. "How? What's happened?"
Harry hadn't wanted to, but he went ahead and unfurled the tragic story
about Imelda and her evil twin sister. Dudley was still in a state of complete
shock. "And. . . she just kidnapped you and your mother?"
Sophie nodded and, to Harry's surprise, gave them the story. "We'd all
known something was wrong. Actually, Dudley, it was
your insistence that
something wasn't right with her and that she probably needed help that really
got me worried. I came home early from school on Tuesday and. . . I just had a
bad feeling. I caught her in my room-- reading my letters and I knew it wasn't
my Mum. Right then and there. She laughed-- a laugh I'd never heard before. She
said 'you want your mother? I'll show you to her. I think you two should spend
as much time together as possible-- this being the last day of your lives.' And
then the next thing I knew, I was tied up in that cave-- and then you were there
Harry. . ." her tears were coming back.
Dudley's fists were clenched. "Thank God that Professor of yours killed
that Delphine--" he was so enraged he could hardly speak. "Evil," he said, "pure
evil. . ." He put his hand on Harry's shoulder. "And thank God you were there,
Harry. You saved her life--"
"Nonsense. . . "
"Oh quit being noble," Sophie snapped weakly. "You were brilliant. You
blew everyone's minds away-- Dudley, he did some things that not even most grown
wizards can't do. Professor Dumbledore, that's the headmaster at our school, he
told me so and
he's one of the greatest Wizards of our age."
Harry thought he saw admiration in Dudley's eyes, but he didn't want to
think about it any more. "That's not important," he said dismissively, "what's
important is that we're still here, Sophie."
"And no one is more thankful that me," said Dudley earnestly. "Dunno what
I'd do without you two."
Harry blinked at his grinning cousin.
"It's been hell with you away, Harry. Mum and Dad and I can hardly stand
the sight of each other these days. And then you sent me that postcard from
Mystic Pier--"
"Oh yes, I got one of those too," said Sophie with a grin.
"-Bloody fantastic! The pictures bloody
move! Oh, I was
so
jealous of you. I tried looking it up on the Internet but I couldn't find any
information on it--"
"No, of course you wouldn't find anything about it in something like the
Internet."
"-- I was gonna suggest to Mum and Dad that we go
there for summer
holiday."
"They'd love that, I'm sure."
"Sophie," said Dudley, serious once again, "You're going to need help
around the house--"
"Oh, Grandmum and Granddad are going to be staying for the next few days
to help Dad and I about the house. They'll be here until after the funeral."
"Well-- what about your garden, eh? Harry and I will help with all that,
won't we?"
Harry nodded. "Yes-- of course."
"
You'll be going back to Hogwarts tonight with Dumbledore.
Remember? You have to take the OWLs on Monday."
Harry cringed. He had
completely forgotten about his OWLs exams.
With everything that had happened, they had most definitely slipped his mind. He
tried to cover over the fact that this absoltuely
mortified him and said,
hopefully, "Oh, I'm sure he'll excuse me a few extra days. I . . . I don't want
to leave just yet, Sophie. I want to make sure that everything is okay."
Sophie beamed. "You're much too good to me." And then with a smile at
Dudley, she added, "The both of you."
Dumbledore conceded to allow Harry to stay for Imelda's funeral, and
arranged that since himself, Cornelius Fudge and a few others from the Ministry
would be attending as well, Harry could just continue home to Hogwarts with him
after the funeral. By the end of the evening the arrangements had been made:
Imelda's body was to be brought back and to be buried at the Wizarding cemetery
in Essex called Willow Vale on Saturday.
Before he left, Dumbledore took Harry aside, quietly.
"Listen Harry: I think it best to tell you ahead of time, to prepare you
for what you will probably see on Saturday: The Willow Vale Cemetery-- that is
where your parents are."
Harry's heart stopped. "My parents. . ."
Dumbledore nodded. "Yes. That is where they rest."
Harry was speechless.
He squeezed Harry's shoulder supportively and then, disappeared in the
fireplace after the Arlington's.
Petunia Dursley spent a better part of that evening in distress. When
Harry showed up on the front porch with Dudley's arm around his shoulders, she
nearly burst from anger. And then when Dudley informed her of Imelda Banbury's
death, she nearly keeled over from shock.
"Her sister
killed her?" Petunia put her hand to her chest, trying
to regulate her breathing. "Unheard of! How
tragic! Oh, young Sophie must
be devastated!
She and Vernon drilled Dudley for details on when and where the funeral
would be.
"Roger says that it will be held on Saturday at the Willow Vale Cemetery
in Essex at three o'clock."
"Why in Essex?"
"Well, according to Imelda's parents, that's where most of their family,
the Arlington's, are buried."
Vernon snorted, "Willow Vale Cemetery? I've not heard of that before."
Dudley looked to Harry for help. Harry raised his brow as if to say 'You
tell them, I'm not crazy!'
Dudley cleared his throat. "Well Dad, you haven't heard of that cemetery
for a very good reason. See. . . it's a . . .
special sort of place.
Only, er,
certain people know of its existence."
Harry nodded. "Yeah-- most people walk right by without realizing its a
cemetery."
Petunia shot him an icy glare. "And how would
you know, you
presumptuous little ingrate!"
Harry stiffened. "Because
my parents are buried there."
Petunia and Vernon went white.
"What are you saying," Uncle Vernon hissed.
"He's
saying that Imelda Banbury-- the woman you loved so much,
Mum-- wasn't as normal as you thought." Dudley couldn't help the smile plastered
on his face. "She was a witch," he said brightly.
Petunia's face darkened. "How
dare you
lie that way to your
very own mother! Harry's influence on you has been--"
"He's telling the truth," said Harry quickly-- interrupting his Aunt for
the first time in his life. "And not just any witch, but one of the most
well-respected ones in our world."
"Sophie's one as well," Dudley added happily, visibly loving his parents
reactions. "How does that strike your fancy, eh mummy dear? It turns out that
your
role model is nothing more than a
witch. And so is the girl
that you've been after me to start dating, Dad!"
Uncle Vernon and Aunt Petunia were absolutely silent.
"Ahhh, well Harry? What do you say you and I go up for a bit of telly,
eh?" The two stood up from the table. "Of course, you're still invited to the
funeral. Roger and his family aren't wizards, so you won't be uncomfortable."
Dudley put his arm around his cousin once more and the two walked
upstairs towards Dudley's room.
The sky was a menacing gray on Saturday morning, the sun briefly able to
peek through long enough to give the two cousins their wake up call. Harry and
Dudley who'd spent the night in sleeping bags on the floor of Dudley's room,
hadn't expected Vernon and Petunia to want to go to the funeral, so they dressed
and walked downstairs to go across the street for a ride with Roger and the
Banburys. Petunia was sitting at the kitchen table in curlers and Vernon was
immersed in the morning
Daily Mail -- they didn't so much as
look
at the boys as they left.
They rode in Rogers' car-- the hour journey to Essex being spent in
almost complete silence. Sophie sat in the back seat between Harry and Dudley,
each one holding onto her hand. Roger pulled his car into a forgotten alley way
and they parked, everyone filing out and, climbing a set of decaying stone
steps, pushed open an unhinged gate surrounded by ancient brush. Once they
stepped inside, they found themselves standing amidst a sprawling lawn,
countless enormous willows sheltering them from the outside muggle world. At the
far end, atop the hill was a small white structure with "Willow Vale Mortuary"
plastered on its walls. In between that building and where they stood at the
entrance gate, were endless seas of headstones. The older sites were obvious
because they mostly had bulky, stone monuments marking them-- much the way
muggles did. And then there was a sight Harry hadn't been prepared for-- none of
them had. The newer gravesites were most apparent since a light-silver spirit of
the dead themselves hovered overhead, perfectly still, eyes closed.
It was one of the creepiest things Harry had ever seen, and Dudley,
Sophie and Roger looked similarly apprehensive.
"Ah, it's quite all right," came Dumbledore's familiar voice from behind
them. "I take it none of you have seen a wizarding gravesite before."
"They're all. . . ghosts?" Dudley squeaked.
Dumbledore shook his head. "No-they will not open their eyes let alone
talk to you. A few centuries ago it became the custom to, at the burial of a
wizard, perform a very powerful spell that allows a perfect representation of
the person to stand guard of the gravesite."
"So-then they're like headstones?"
"Basically. Come," said Dumbledore, "this way."
They walked past rows and rows of the translucent people, all eyes closed
and lifeless, perfectly preserved as they had been in their primes. A large
crowd of people had assembled beneath one particularly large tree. There were a
handful of people that had to be muggles: Roger's parents the Banburys of
course, and a sprinkling of others who were probably relatives as well or very
close friends. The rest were wizards and there were a few faces that were
familiar to him: Cornelius Fudge was there, as was Arthur Weasley, and what
Harry presumed to be more members from the ministry.
Dudley was sticking close to Harry's side and Harry squeezed his cousin's
shoulder supportively. "I'm sure they all look odd to you, Dudley, but they're
all wonderful people-- you know Ron Weasley? There's his Dad right there--"
"You don't have to hold my hand, Harry. I'm fine-- n-not n-nervous in the
slightest."
A tall man, drowning in robes of sackcloth black appeared before them and
the crowd fell hushed. He pulled back his hood to reveal a pale, gaunt face. He
was quiet and then finally spoke-his voice just as soft as satin itself. "Imelda
Arlington-Banbury, mother, wife, friend and leader. Unjustly taken from all of
us this Wednesday past at the hands of her own sister. A sister controlled by
the dark forces that our dear Imelda spent her life crusading against . . ."
Roger's arm was around Sophie protectively and there were a few outbreaks
of sobbing from the Banbury's-Mrs. Arlington looked positively ill. Harry
himself felt weak as he listened to the mans' weighty words, feeling as though
he were actually talking about his
own mother.
". . . but death conquers naught but the flesh. To those of us who loved
her, Imelda Arlington-Banbury will always be with us. For love is a thing
infinitely stronger than death."
The man raised his arms high above his head, looked up into the sky and
shouted out an incantation that Harry had never heard before. He was awestruck
as a shaft of white light shot up from the ground just in front of where the man
stood. Harry had to squint from the intensity of the light, as did the rest of
the company, and then it gradually changed from white, to blue then to silver.
When it all finally stopped, a translucent Imelda Banbury rose before them. She
looked so young and beautiful-her eyes closed as though she were simply taking a
peaceful sleep.
He heard a gasp and turned to see Dudley's eyes wide in wonderment-it was
precisely the way Harry felt.
They made their way back down the rows of countless sites, Dudley was
whispering to as they walked. "That was the most beautiful thing that I've ever
heard-- what that man was saying, I mean. Beautiful. . ."
"Yeah. . . it
was calming, wasn't it?"
"Not a bit like our muggle funerals-Mum would've been disappointed that
there weren't people throwing themselves onto a casket or beating themselves in
grief-"
Harry stopped in his tracks. From the corner of his eye, he'd spotted
something that had sent a chill through his spine. He whipped around and ran,
nearly tripping over his feet, and reached them. Two motionless spirits that
differed from the rest in that they held each other's hands. The man, handsome
with unruly black hair. The mother, an absolute beauty. They were his parents.
James and Lily Potter lingered in front of Harry. Not caring that it was
pointless, he reached forward with his fingers and, of course, they drifted
right through their forms. If only they could speak . . . if only . . . if only
they were
real . . .
"Harry?" It was Dudley rushing up behind him, "Harry, what are you
doing-- oh."
Harry felt Dudley approach his side but couldn't tear his gaze away to
look at him.
"This is them-- your mum and dad?"
Harry nodded.
"I . . . never knew what they looked like, my Aunt and Uncle. This is
them . . ." he was quiet for a moment and then, "beautiful. Your mum and dad--
they were beautiful."
Harry subconsciously fiddled with his mothers small gold band he kept on
his pinky finger-- noticing that the spirit before him was wearing one as well.
Harry didn't know how long he'd been standing there, but finally, Dudley
tugged at his shirtsleeve. "C'mon, mate. Let's go, eh?"
Harry snapped out of his trances and, reluctantly, followed Dudley's
steps. Back at the gate, the Banburys and the Arlington's were waiting-along
with Dumbledore.
"Ready, Harry?" he asked.
Harry nodded and turned to his cousin.
"When you comin' home," asked Dudley.
"The 15th."
"I'll be there waiting." Harry hugged his cousin and this time, he really
meant it.
"Sophie," Harry started but she cut him off with a flashing smile.
"I'll be waiting too, Harry."
She hugged him again and then Harry turned to follow Dumbledore and
Cornelius Fudge.
They arrived back at Hogwarts late Sunday morning when half the school
had adjourned to their final Hogsmead excursion of the year. That meant that he
had the entire Gryffindor common room to himself and Ron who had decided to stay
behind and await his return.
They were on their way back from lunch, Harry in the middle of telling
Ron more about the funeral service, when he spotted a figure walking down the
corridor a good twenty feet ahead of them. But that slicked back blond hair and
assertive gait could only have been one person.
"Oy! Malfoy!" Harry jogged ahead and Draco slowed his pace, turning
around to face Harry as he approached. Draco wasn't smiling-but then again he
wasn't scowling either.
"All right there, Draco? Haven't seen you since-"
"Yeah, I'm fine."
Harry nodded. "Right. Good. It's just that after everything that
happened, I wanted to make sure-"
"Potter, stop. Just-don't, all right?" Draco was staring at Harry-no
anger in his voice or menace in his stare. His voice was quieter than it usually
was and he spoke very candidly. "I know that you've come to try and give me a
heart to heat, right? You spend two days with me and you think that you know me
and now you're on a crusade to save me, right? You
don't know me, Potter.
Or my family. It's . . . best that we forget the past week. Nothing has
changed: I'm still a Malfoy and you're still a Potter and that's the end of it."
Harry tensed up. "You're wrong. You showed us who you really were that
night-you made the right decision."
"Oh?
Betraying my father is the
right decision? I don't
think so! No, I don't have a choice in this-"
"Of course you do!
You make the decision on who you want to be!
Now, if you
want to be what your father is, then that's one thing. But if
there's any doubt,
any doubt at all, that maybe your destiny is
different than his, then you'd better bloody well make that decision."
"You don't understand what my father is capable. Right now, he's probably
making arrangements to have Snape sacked-"
"What?
Why?"
"Because I bloody almost chose Snape over my father that night, that's
why! And Snape is actually lucky that's all my father is doing-you don't
know him, Potter. He doesn't care when it comes to things like revenge.
Trust me, you want as little to do with me as possible."
Draco, who's voice had been more pleading than threatening, turned to
walk away. Harry didn't follow, but called out after him.
"Malfoy!"
Draco slowed and turned, waiting silently for Harry to continue.
Harry took a breath. "You can't pretend to be someone you're not."
"This
is who I am!"
Harry walked up to Draco, not two inches away from his face, and stared
him down. "I wouldn't be so sure about that," he said quietly, and then turned
to Ron. "Come on, Ron, let's get back to the common room."
They left Draco standing alone, unable to speak.
