Honestly, do I really have to keep doing all these warnings and labels and
stuff like that? I think you get the picture.
Chapter 6: A Thousand Pinpoints of Light Come Together to Land on Liamh
Harry stared at his eyes in the mirror. Luckily, they had stopped bleeding earlier and he just wanted to make sure that it didn't look like anything was wrong with them. However, his eyes, apparantly, had a different idea.
The pupils had turned a painful looking reddish-purplish, and the sclera appeared to have a ton of blood vessels popping simultaneously. His irises were clouded over, and had taken on a funny greyish tinge. He moaned in frustration. They looked better behind the protective shield of his glasses, and he just had to hope that Sirius and Remus wouldn't notice. He felt extremely vulnerable, exposed, like he was on a showcase. He sighed, and headed downstairs with the presents he had bought for Sirius and Remus in Hogsmeade.
As soon as he had made his way to the dining room, Sirius shouted over to him.
"Oi Harry! I know teenagers sleep late, but this is ridiculous!"
"Sorry, I had a minor crisis about my glasses, but in the end, good prevailed, and I found them." Harry said, smiling brightly to see his godfather absolutely covered in whatever he was cooking.
"Whatever are you trying to do, Sirius?"
"I'm making string soup!" He said, proudly smiling at his godson.
Harry carefully walked over to Sirius. This didn't look like a good idea. There was flour all over the place, Sirius was holding a huge knife that was just about ready to turn his hands into a Peter Pettigrew look-alike, and was that soup blue?
Harry quickly and deftly made Sirius put the knife down, and looked over at the recipe book that was currently trying to look as though it was innocent to the mess the Animagi had caused. Fruitcake. He was trying to make fruitcake. The other recipe book, that was currently hanging to dry after an apparent trip into the blue soup, had the page opened to a recipe for a kind of string soup. Harry looked from this recipe book, down to the soup, and back again.
"Um, you know it isn't supposed to be blue, don't you?" Harry asked tentatively.
"It isn't?" Sirius countered innocently.
"No, Snuffles, it isn't." (1)
"Well, I made it blue, so tough." They quietly laughed together for a while.
"So, what was the crisis with the glasses?" Sirius queried.
"Oh, I forgot where the nightstand is." Harry said, effectively blushing to add to the lie.
"Maybe it's a good thing we aren't going to be living together too long. I don't think we'd have enough stability to keep the house running properly." Sirius chuckled.
"Now I'm really worried about you when I have to leave."
"Oh, don't be Harry. One dysfunctional person can survive on their own, but two can just get them into even more of a mess."
They were silent for a short while, each pondering nothing.
"Do you want help, Sirius?"
"No, that's all right." Harry gave him a skeptical look before going to send Hedwig off with presents.
* * *
When Lupin knocked on the door, Harry was just finishing up his letter to Ron. He looked up, and quickly walked to the door. Sirius was right behind him, playfully shoving him over so he could open the door. Harry stood off to the side, nursing his injuries from the playful push Sirius had administered him.
"Moony! Come in, do you have the ornaments?"
"Yes, of course I do, Padfoot, how incompetent do you honestly think I am?" Lupin held up a box of an elongated shape, and grinned roguely. He kicked off his shoes and walked into the dining room, spotting Harry in the process.
"And Harry! There you are, I was wondering when I'd see you."
"Hello, erm . . . " Harry stuttered, not really knowing what to call his former professor.
"Oh, just call me Remus. I was one of your father's closest friends, you're practically my nephew."
"Hello, Remus." Harry said, smiling warmly and reaching for his hand, but instead got a hug.
Quickly, Remus had his coat off and was hanging it on the coatrack. With a second glance at Harry, he cocked his head to the side.
"Did you know . . . that your eyes . . . are . . . brighter than they normally are?" He asked, his own eyes glazing over lightly as he looked at his best friend's godson. Harry looked down at his shirt.
"Oh! It must be because I'm wearing green." He grinned as Sirius moved in to look at his eyes, shrugged, and moved on to say that they had to get going. Remus and Harry smiled at each other, an understanding reached between the two.
"What are we to do about lights?" Sirius asked, scratching his chin. He turned to Remus. "Lily was always the good one with the charms." Remus raised an eyebrow at him. "Oh yeah! I almost forgot that you two competed all the time for the top spot in charms!"
"Right. Well, I think that we could do just a little . . . " he trailed off as he sized up the tree. "Erubescere stemma!"
The tree lit up, blushing tons of luminescent colors, their rays merging with the tree's boughs. Sirius started clapping, and Harry felt himself slipping back into a childish wonder that he always felt when he was surrounded by magic. Innocence. He was innocent again. Remus flushed happily as the colors whirled around the room.
"There, Moony, I knew you could do it!" Sirius shouted. Remus gave him a look.
"Do we have tinsel?" Sirius asked.
"Tinsel? No, but we do have these little hook things that you just put on the branches." Remus countered, handing them to Sirius.
Sirius smiled and started to attack the tree.
"Here, Harry, while Padfoot is amused with the hook things, we can put on some of these ornaments." He leaned over and ungracefully tumbled onto the couch. Harry cautiously sat in front of him.
The first thing he noticed upon looking at the ornaments was that a lot of them were the colors for Gryffindor. The next thing he noticed was that the ones that weren't the Gryffindor colors were homemade. There were bulbs, bells, strings of popcorn, something that was extremely beautiful and reminded Harry of the buildings in St. Petersburg, and a star for the top. Remus took out the strings of popcorn and examined them.
"Perhaps a bit moldy, but nonetheless still good." Harry wrinkled his nose, taking out an ornate ornament and standing to go to the tree.
After several hours of Sirius becoming re-fascinated with the Christmas decorations, and the living room looked like a tornado had gone through it. Harry laughed at the two of his father's friends, their age showing through their laughter. He wondered what it would be like if his father and mother had been older when they had him. He didn't really want to dwell on things that were only going to make him sad, so he just shook his head to himself and followed them into the dining room.
"Now, you all, I have something very special planned for dinner this evening." Sirius said, mock proudly.
"Oh, no, I've had way too much exposure to your cooking, Padfoot, why don't you just let Harry cook?"
"He wasn't interested." Sirius looked over at Harry, a small grin on his face.
"Well, you never asked, Sirius. Maybe if you had admitted you needed help, we wouldn't be eating . . . "
"Harry! Don't spoil the surprise! You have no idea how much . . . thought and planning went into this meal, and I think you should just leave all that be!" Sirius exclaimed, feigning anger.
"Oh, just go on with it, Sirius! Get out the supposedly edible food and we can get on with it!"
Sirius disappeared off into the hallway, and through to the kitchen, and Remus leaned toward Harry.
"Really, Harry tell me what it is, I'd rather not have another nasty surprise like I did with the whole rock cake episode." He whispered conspiratorially.
"On the menu, we have blue soup and fruitcake." Harry enunciated in his best French accent.
"Oh, well, I've had his fruitcake before, and if you like French bread, try some, it ought to be safe." Remus quickly sat up straight and snapped to wary attention as Sirius walked into the room with his pathetic excuse for string soup. He showed it off to the werewolf, who blanched, and said, "Well, if that just doesn't make my mouth water with anticipation."
"Did you come up with the recipe by yourself?" Harry teased.
"Yes, and I must say, I love the color." Remus added.
"Oh, shut up."
"Just . . . how . . . did it get to be so . . . blue?" Remus obviously suspected something.
"Well, in the book, it said to put the parsnips and string in, and the only string I had was blue, so the dye came off into the water." Sirius admitted.
"I can't eat that anymore. Sorry, Sirius, but I have a problem with dye. It doesn't agree with my digestive system." Harry gently set his spoon in the center of the table.
* * *
Harry stared into the fire that was roaring behind the beautiful, yet slightly off-kilter, Christmas tree in the living room. Remus had gone home with the present Harry had gotten for him (a cup that never emptied.) He had his knees drawn up to his chest, his bare feet resting on the couch.
Sirius had gone to bed earlier that night, declaring that he hadn't gotten enough sleep the night before, apparantly waking early to "cook" their banquet. Harry hadn't slept well for a while, the only exception being last night, and, frankly, he didn't want to. He was still trying to figure out the dream from last night.
Obviously, the child was in Slytherin, and Harry automatically ruled out that it was a girl. Blaise Zabini, who was thin enough to be the boy in the dream, was ruled out because he was a quieter Slytherin, the most ambitious, and not one that was likely to shy away from an opportunity that would be easily obtained. Crabbe and Goyle, well, let's just say they speak for themselves. Then there were all the other Slytherins, but he knew that he personally had to know the boy, which only left one person.
Harry heard the staircase leading down to the dining room creak with the weight of his godfather. He looked up from his analytical study of the way the flames danced. Sirius rubbed his eyes before walking into the living room and seeing his godson (?) still awake on the couch.
"Harry? What are you doing still up?"
"I haven't slept well for a while now, so I think I've become an insomniac."
"I'll ignore that. Is there something bothering you?"
"No, not really, I just have a question." Harry mumbled.
"Ask away."
"Who . . . was the woman?"
"You might have to be a bit more specific about that. There are lots of women."
"In the pictures. In my room. I noticed that it was mainly just the one woman. You know, with the small smile, kinda like Mona Lisa's."
Sirius visually paled, saddening from the memory that Harry had brought up from the delves of what years in Azkaban had done to him. He stumbled a bit toward the couch, hesitated, but sat down next to the young sylph. His eyes were trying to hide themselves, to hide the pain, but he eventually showed his true Gryffindor bravery and looked up at Harry.
"Her name was Ophelia."
Sirius faltered a bit, but somehow was encouraged by the gently probing eyes that were such a brilliant green they nearly glowed in the dark. Cat's eyes . . . he thought to himself.
"She was truly the most beautiful woman I had ever met. Irish, she was half muggle and had been sent to hide away with me because her father had been handling Death Eater propaganda. At first, things had been rough, but we got used to living together.
"James and Lily couldn't have been more happy. You were still just barely concealed in her womb, and Ophelia had loved the idea that she'd be around a baby quite often. We had started out as friends, but a growing attraction scared us, and we barely spoke for weeks and weeks.
"She had been planning to go into interior design, but, as she was in hiding, she had nothing to do, so she completely redid my house. I had been aspiring to be a photographer, but I was no rich man, and I needed the money from my apothecary to carry on. She was quite aware of her stunning good looks, and offered to model for me, and those pictures you saw were taken by me."
"Why didn't you make them move, like most photographers in the wizard world would?" Harry queried, intrigued by the story.
"There are some things too beautiful to truly capture, and I didn't want to break the spell."
There was a moment of silence, in which Harry looked over at his godfather, who was close to tears.
"As it turns out, it was not me she should have been hiding with, but your parents. I came home one day, and found it in ruins. Her body had been left for me to find in her bed, her eyes poked out so she stared up at me with nothing but two bloody holes. There was a note. It read perhaps she should have been more like her father."
There was a growing silence as Sirius' shoulders started to heave, sobbing the dry sobs that had been waiting to come for so long. Harry brought him into his arms in a hug, patting him on the back and muttering words he thought would have been comforting.
"I would have married her, had I had the money to get her an appropriate ring." He sobbed into the now wet front of Harry's sweater.
"I thought as much, Sirius, I thought as much." Harry whispered into Sirius' hair.
* * *
Winter came full force soon, bringing the beautiful snows of Christmas that everyone would be cursing in a month, but for now, everything was beautiful. Sirius would have never admitted this to Harry, but he was relieved to have talked about Ophelia's death to someone; it was like physically lifting a burden. Harry inwardly feared the day after Christmas, when he'd be taken away to the world of the sylphs, never knowing when he'd see his friends again. But for now, it was Christmas day, and he was sleeping.
"Harry! Wake up! Oh, wake up, Harry!" Sirius shouted, throwing a pillow at his godson's head.
"Ow! What-" Harry mumbled, sitting up and retrieving his glasses, though they didn't help him see at all anymore.
"Happy Christmas!"
Harry fell back into bed, his groan barely concealed, smiling between the hands that covered his face. "Happy Christmas, Sirius."
"Oh, come on, I want to give you your gift!"
"Yep, okay, I'm up, coming." Harry incoherently grumbled.
Harry tried as he might, but couldn't exactly see where he was going, and stumbled toward the stairs. Sirius caught him, tactfully decided not to say anything, and helped him over to the stairs.
"What time is it?" Harry moaned.
"5:00."
Harry glared at Sirius, who shrugged cheekily and led him over to the Christmas tree. There was a heap of presents for both of them and Sirius had conveniantly separated them into two piles.
"You've been up for a while, I see?"
"Well, I didn't want to wake you up too early, but I just couldn't resist."
"Sometimes I wonder how you can be over thirty."
"Come on!" Sirius eagerly pulled the tired sylph over to the presents.
"Open mine first! Open mine first!" Sirius was ecstatic. Harry was starting to wonder just how early Sirius had gotten up.
"Okay! Okay, I'll open yours first." Harry was trying somewhat to keep from laughing at Sirius' immaturity.
Harry looked at Sirius with a question in his features. "Okay, right, calming down now."
Harry carefully pulled away at the paper, and found a box on the inside. It was long and thin, and on the cover he could see that it came from Flourish and Blott's in Diagon Alley. He lifted it, and found that it was extremely heavy. Holding his breath, he lifted the lid, and gasped.
It was a full set of his mother's books.
He looked up at Sirius, who was absolutely beaming at the awed look on Harry's face. Harry immediately forgave him for waking him up at 5:00 in the morning.
"Th-thank you, Sirius, thank you so much." He hugged Sirius round the neck, Sirius nearly being bowled over onto the floor.
"I thought you'd like them." Harry pulled away from the hug, glancing up at his godfather, finally becoming awake enough to be excited.
"Now open mine."
"Okay!" Sirius grabbed the present from Harry and ripped viciously at the paper. He very nearly dropped the present out of the box, but Sirius couldn't help but wonder why his godson would give him jewelry.
"What is it?"
"Open it first!"
Sirius opened the small box, and fingered the elegant silver chain that he saw there. He delicately took it out, trying not to restrain it on the box's opening. What appeared to be a charm fell into his hands, but rather it was more of an extension of the cord. It was knotted into a design that made it appear to just be able to come apart at will.
"Okay, now what is it?"
Harry smiled at Sirius, and he moved over to show his godfather the charm. "It's a Celtic knot called a Maze. It is supposed to help you to brave life's struggles, and emerge a more centered, stronger, and triumphant person."
Sirius looked down at the necklace that was in his hands, and realized that this was supposed to help him with his demons. Such a thoughtful gift he had never received. "Thank you, Harry, thank you."
He slipped it over his head, then grinned at him. "Now you have to open one!"
* * *
It appeared that Hermione had given Harry a blank book that never ran out of pages, Ron gave him a year's worth of chocolate frogs with a note that said that no matter where Harry had to go, he shouldn't have to go there without chocolate frogs. Remus gave him a trumpet. Harry was still trying to figure this out. Mrs. Weasley sent him a sweater, possibly the best one she had ever made for him. Hagrid sent him a gecko. Harry was still trying to figure this one out as well. And, the last present puzzled him more than all the others. Possibly even more than the trumpet.
"What's the note say?" Sirius asked, leaning over to look at what Dumbledore had written to Harry.
"I know you don't know how to use this now, but I have heard that in the future you will. Professor Albus Dumbledore." Harry read. He opened the box, and a sword fell out.
Harry looked at it. The handle was simple, a single piece of metal spiraling above where he'd put his hand, making it appear as if it was made of magic. The blade had an inscription at the bottom in runic letters that somehow Harry could read. The rest of the sword was covered in various knots that Harry couldn't know the meaning to yet. He lifted the sword into his hands, finding it to be feather light and easy to control. With a shudder, he wondered when he'd have to use it. He put the sword in its mahogany leather sheathe, which was also inscribed with the runic letters.
"Why . . . how would Dumbledore hear that I'd be in battle?" Harry asked Sirius.
"Dumbledore's always known more than anyone, even more than the Minister of Magic did at times. He was in contact with whoever is ruling the sylphs, and probably passed this on to you. All I know is that it certainly isn't a wizard's sword." Sirius stared at the sword in awe, and he lifted it in its sheathe. "Oh, Harry, its too heavy!"
"Heavy? I didn't think it was heavy."
"Must be protected by a sort of spell." Sirius pondered this thought. "According to the fairy tales I was told when I was little, sylphs are more magical than wizards, so their spells can't be broken unless they want them to be broken."
"How do you know about sylphs?" Harry queried.
"When I was little, tales of sylphs were more popular, but they weren't correct. I always thought they were just a mixture of fairies and pixies, but then I met your father, and you, and I had to completely erase that vision from my mind. But that's all I know."
Harry stared back down at the haunting inscription. This sword is the sword that the greatest ruler of sylphs will use. Guard it well, all who come by it, you hold a race's future in your hands. Harry felt the lives of all those who had died at the blade of this sword, their very souls rushing to his fingertips. He felt their hatred, their lust for power. He wondered when it had been forged, of what great fire had this sword been created from.
"Harry? I have one more Christmas surprise for you." Sirius cut through Harry's silent reverie.
"You do?"
"The Weasleys, Remus, and the Grangers are coming for Christmas dinner here." Sirius grinned from ear to ear.
"They are?" Harry sat there, stunned, then, "Are you cooking?"
Sirius laughed, then fake pouted, and Harry laughed with him.
* * *
As it turned out, Harry ended up doing most of the cooking, with Sirius at his side, assisting in the cooking of the ham. Harry stared at him, smiling as he nearly dropped the pan of goose on the floor. As Harry didn't trust him with any job that involved mashing things, Harry did the mashed potatoes and cranberries, while Sirius was being carefully supervised with the tart. The only thing that Harry felt Sirius was competent enough to make was the hot chocolate and tea, so Harry left him to his own devices while doing that.
Harry finally had the time to fall onto the couch in the living room, but was despaired to see that wrappings were all over the place. He decided it didn't matter, and went to put his presents in his room.
Hedwig hooted loudly at him, and he went over to feed her an owl treat. It was, after all, Christmas. He didn't think that he should leave his things out; they'd just need to be transported tomorrow when he left. He opened his trunk and carefully put his sword at the very bottom. From there he packed away all the other things (minus his Weasley sweater; he was wearing that.) Harry kissed Hedwig's beak and practically flew down the stairs when he heard the doorbell ring. Sirius got to it first, and he saw Remus' silhoutette in the doorway.
"Remus! Hello, Remus!" Harry said from behind Sirius.
"Hello, Harry, Sirius, I do hope that Sirius didn't cook again tonight, that would have been a disaster." Sirius playfully punched him in the shoulder, both of them grinning.
A few minutes later, the Weasleys arrived, they were made up of Ron, Mrs. and Mr. Weasley. Percy was with his current girlfriend (he had broken up with Penelope a few years back.) The twins were being interviewed at Zonko's ("on Christmas?" had been Mrs. Weasley's words when she found out.) Hermione arrived with her parents, and she immediately hugged Harry in greeting.
"Woah, I never thought you'd live in a house as nice as this right after being in Azkaban for so long!" Ron exclaimed in awe, staring around at the dining room.
"Tactful, Ron, tactful." Hermione whispered sarcastically in his ear.
"Well, they had made my old house a museum while I was in Azkaban, and so when I was pardoned, they just gave it back to me. Although, I must say it is kinda weird." Sirius answered calmly.
"Oh." Ron looked down at his feet, feeling awful that he had said that. "Where do you sleep, Harry?"
"Oh, yeah, I should show you guys that, shouldn't I?" Harry turned to the adults to excuse them.
"Come on, follow me, up these stairs." Harry said, talking to Ron and Hermione with his back turned.
At the top of the landing, Harry turned and saw that the two were looking everywhere. He smiled to himself. It was like back when they were first years, exploring Hogwarts for the first time. He padded down the carpeted hallway and opened the door to his room. He opened the door, stood in front of it, and said "Ta da!"
Hermione walked right in and made herself at home, looking around at everything. She noticed the pictures, and motioned Ron over to her.
"Harry? Do you know who this woman is?" she asked, curious.
"Her name was Ophelia. She had been Sirius' . . . love. Before he got put in Azkaban." Harry explained. Hermione was about to ask more questions, but realized that Harry didn't want to answer more questions, so she let it rest.
"Oh! I have to show you something!" Harry dug around in his trunk, and brought up the sword.
"Wicked!" Ron exclaimed when he saw it.
"Do you know what the writing is?" Hermione said, examining the sword's intricate detail.
"Yes, I suppose it's a prophecy." Harry shrugged, trying not to make it sound like a big deal.
"Oh, well, cool." Ron muttered. "But, why d'you have a sword? You don't even know how to use one!"
"Um, Professor Dumbledore insinuated that I'd know how in the future, maybe I'll have to learn as a sylph." Harry explained, looking down at the sword in his hands.
"Can I see the hilt?" Ron asked. Harry nodded, unsheathing it and lifting it so the light caught on the tip of the sword. He thought it strange how perfectly it fit in his hand. "Woah! I don't know much about swords, Harry, but I can tell you one thing! That isn't just a sword, it's not even a wizard's sword! Probably a sylph sword."
"Really? By the way, Ron, how would you know?" Hermione joined in.
"Remember the Giant Chess Set we had to get past in first year?" They both nodded. "Well, I paid close attention to the swords, and they were blunt, and broader, not slim and elegant like this one. I knew they weren't Muggle swords, because they'd be too hard to come by."
"I'm impressed." Hermione said approvingly.
"Can I hold it?" Ron pleaded.
"Of course, just don't drop it, it's quite heavy." Harry smiled at his friend. Ron gave him a look, as Harry seemed to be having no trouble whatsoever holding the sword. He took it in his hands, eyes widening at the weight of it.
"Holy-" Hermione shot him a glare, and Ron coiled away from it, not finishing his cuss. "I mean, wow, Harry, this is too heavy! How are you supposed to fight with it?"
"I think the correct term is to 'fence,' or to 'duel,' not to 'fight.'" Harry annoyingly corrected. "And I think as I learn it won't seem so heavy."
"Harry! I want to know what the prophecy is! Now, what is it?" Hermione queried impatiently.
"Well, it says right here-" Harry pointed to the runes on both the hilt and the sheath. "'This sword is the sword that the greatest ruler of sylphs will use. Guard it well, all who come by it, you hold a race's future in your hands.'"
They sat pondering for a moment, but then Remus stuck his head in the door.
"Sorry to interrupt, but Sirius needs help with the cooking. And, Harry, I think you'd better help him after the whole blue soup episode."
Harry smiled, while Ron and Hermione shared a confused look. "I'll be right down."
They all trooped down to the living room, where it looked like poor Mr. Granger was being bombarded with questions about life as Muggles (Harry was pleased to see that Mr. Weasley hadn't changed a bit since being elected Minister of Magic.) Meanwhile, Mrs. Weasley and Mrs. Granger were having a conversation of their own, that Remus looked ready to join. Hermione and Ron went off to sit on the couch and talk after Harry motioned that it was okay to do so. Cautiously, Harry approached the kitchen, carefully opening the door to peek in and check on his godfather.
"Having problems?" He asked, a twinkle in his eye.
"Yes! What do I do after the goose's done?" Sirius begged, pleading with Harry to help him not mess this up.
"You leave it, all we have to do is prepare the food now." Harry took up a dish, and Sirius, seeing his example, knew what to do now, and did his part in getting the dish servable. After this, Harry took up most of the dishes, leaving Sirius with the rest, and they paraded into the dining room with the food.
"Dinner is served!" Sirius called into the living room, and the whole party came in to take a seat. Somehow, there were just enough chairs for everyone to have a seat. Harry automatically knew it was a spell.
"Is there anyone who has to say grace?" Sirius asked, conscious that he wasn't that active a Christian.
"I'll say it." Mr. Granger volunteered. With a few more words, they were all able to dig into their meals.
The conversation that evening was scattered, Harry, Ron, and Hermione just talking about anything, Mrs. Weasley joining in wherever she was wanted, between Mrs. Granger and everyone else. Sirius and Remus were holding ship down at their end of the table with Mr. Weasley and Mr. Granger, telling stories about the Marauders, now that Fred and George weren't there. So, roughly, their conversation sounded something like this:
"And so we were all in Spain-"
"Really? Harry, you'll have to write us-"
"What's it like? Being a mother for a living?"
"And somehow, it got left on the train-"
"Don't worry, I could never stop writing-"
"Oh, sometimes I wish I had a job, but there is so much-"
"'Where's my pass? Where's my pass?'"
"Yeah, we'll always know each other."
"So, what's it like to have to nag people about their hygiene every day?"
Needless to say, the evening ended all too quickly for them (by that time good friends.) Before they knew what was happening, they were saying their goodbyes and leaving. As was expected, Remus was the last to leave, staying a little while longer to help Sirius and Harry clean up. When they were all finally gone, Harry sat on the couch, a mug of hot chocolate with cayenne in it in his hands. The remainder of their night was reflected in the mess that lay at his feet. Harry stared at the flames, their dancing, lithe figures entrancing him. He felt tired; an almost unfamiliar feeling taking control of his eyelids.
"You tired as I am?" His godfather indistinctly mumbled.
"Yes."
"Go to bed, Harry. You have a big day ahead of you tomorrow." With a waving motion of his hands, Sirius dragged Harry up from the couch and up the stairs. Harry couldn't even remember getting ready for bed before he dropped off, hypnotised to sleep.
* * *
The next morning, Harry awoke to the world oblivious to everything around him, he was just exhausted and tried to go back to sleep. Then he remembered that he was going to be picked up today by the sylphs. He lay in bed, breathing in the air of this room. In such a short time, he had come to think of it as home. There was nothing unfamiliar about this house; most of the things in it were Muggle and didn't come as a surprise, making him comfortable there. He supposed everything would be extremely different when he got to the sylvan underworld. He wouldn't know anything. Suddenly, he was vaguely reminded of how much this was like the first time he had switched worlds. It was an almost exact parallel to when Hagrid had picked him up for Hogwarts.
Stewing over that idea, he got out of bed and went down to breakfast. He couldn't find his godfather anywhere, apparantly he was still sleeping. Harry smiled, and went to go take a shower.
He had no idea when the sylph would come for him, so he decided to be ready as soon as possible. After his shower, he threw on the most comfortable clothes he owned, as they would be the best for traveling. For the second time he descended the stairs, and found Sirius dutifully drinking his coffee and making toast for the two.
"Morning, Harry." Sirius smiled at him. "Are all your things packed?"
"Yes, I did that last night." Harry put his hands in his pockets, looking over at his godfather.
"Do you have any idea when you're leaving?"
"No, none. The letter I got just said that they'd be around to pick me up the day after our holiday of Christmas." Harry sat down in a chair that was near the counter.
"Here's your toast."
The rest of the morning was quite a blur to Harry, in getting ready, and the hours started to get tedious as he waited. Finally, around noon, there was a knock on the door.
Harry went to get it, and stopped short.
There, standing there, was one of the most beautiful of people he had ever seen. The sylph was long, elegant, the ears coming to a delicate point behind the brownish-greenish hat it wore. The eyes were an enchanting purple, and they changed color as they flashed around the room. The sylph's hair flowed down to its shoulders in a waterfall of brown. Everything about its face wasn't perfect, but fit together so you couldn't imagine it being any other way. Their skin shone like Harry's did, the dewdrop kisses trying to hide; Harry realized that they couldn't walk around too much in public, it was too obvious that they weren't mortal. The sylph's clothes looked different, sort of like they were working at a Renaissance festival but got lost and were looking for directions.
"Well, you must be Harry?" The sylph said. Their voice flowed like cream over peaches. "I'm Danu, I'll be your guide. Could I speak to Sirius?"
"Yeah, he's just upstairs, I'll go get him. Oh, by the way, come in." Harry stuttered.
As Danu made itself (?) comfortable, Harry went up the stairs.
"Sirius! The sylph is here." Harry called to the hallway. From there he went to get his trunk and Hedwig, leaving Sirius to talk to Danu.
After a long period of heaving and dragging, pleading with the trunk to follow him, it was finally downstairs, and Hedwig followed shortly after. His new gecko (as Harry now called Ciaran) was clinging to his arm. Harry walked into the living room and sat on the windowseat, trying desperately not to interrupt the quiet conversation the two were having.
"Don't worry. Harry'll be fine with us, we've been planning for his arrival for some time now. It was just a matter of getting her here." Danu reassured him.
"That's good. I just have one more question. Is there any way that it'd be possible for me to speak with . . . him every once in a while?" Sirius faltered when finding a pronoun for Harry, and Harry smiled thoughtfully.
"Yes, but not for quite a while. Eventually it will reach a point where it will be safe for him to come into the Open World on her own, he will be able to disappear at her own will. Only then will he be able to make the journey. And who knows? Maybe something will happen . . . " Danu trailed off, and turned to smile at Harry. "I suppose everything is ready?"
"Yes, all I need is to take my stuff out to whatever we'll be travelling in." Harry looked at his things, then back at Danu and Sirius.
"I'll help you then." Danu said, eyes twinkling.
They all trooped out to the main hall, and everyone helped grab something and they made it out to, surprisingly, a car. After everything was packed, Danu stepped aside to let Harry and Sirius say their goodbyes.
"Oh, just come here." Sirius said, opening his arms for Harry. They embraced, the chill of winter settling around them.
Harry felt so . . . lost as he hugged his godfather goodbye. Up until this moment, it hadn't really processed that he'd be leaving; they had been taking things one day at a time. As it turned out, they didn't have time for that. With one last squeeze, they let go, and said goodbye, and with tears in both their eyes, Harry was gone.
Harry stared out the window at the snow, the shadows in the snow, more like. They were on one of those old roads that practically no one drove on, which was just as well, Harry had a feeling that they weren't supposed to draw attention to themselves. He also had a feeling that Danu was one of those quiet, obedient people who prided themselves in their sensibility.
"Danu? Are you the one who's supposed to explain everything to me, or will someone else?" Harry cautiously asked.
"Well, I will be present for the explanation, but I'm not to be the one. I'm still somewhat young, as far as sylphs are concerned, and I don't think they would want me to lead you astray."
"How old are you?" Harry asked politely.
"Fifty."
Harry felt his jaw dropped, and, so as not to look too fishy (not suspicious, the actual fish), he closed his mouth. Fifty? "Well, you've certainly aged well."
"Sylphs don't show signs of age. We just die when we die. The only times when you can see us growing are the years when we are coming into our shape for life. Like you have. You probably won't grow any more than you have, you might develop a tad more, but certainly nothing huge." Danu explained matter-of-factly.
"Oh." There was a silence again. Harry stared out the window again. Just what was he getting into? How much did he have yet to learn? Would Danu answer his questions? He supposed not. But he decided to ask anyway.
"Danu?"
"Yeah?"
"Do you have any idea how much I'll have to learn?"
"Well, you won't have to learn our language, you've been speaking it fluently ever since we got in the car." Harry looked surprised at this, but decided that it was one of those things like Parseltongue. "But you will have to know . . . no, I'm not the one to tell you. That will all be cleared up soon."
With a look of anticipation on his face, Harry tried to check all his questions, and ask them when he would get some answers.
To his great surprise, about an hour later, Danu stopped the car. Harry had drifted off a bit, exceedingly bored, but he looked out the window and saw that they were in the middle of a snow-covered forest. Why had they stopped? Had they run out of gas? And why was Danu getting out?
"Come on, Harry. We're here."
"What? Where's here? What about the car?" Harry couldn't help it, the questions wouldn't stop.
"The car isn't actually a car; it's a boulder." Danu explained as it transformed the car back into its original shape. "And we have some way to walk yet until we reach our destination. Here, I'll make your stuff more portable." Before Harry knew it, all his things were pocket size (with the exception of Hedwig and Ciaran.)
"How did you do that?" Harry asked, awed. "You didn't even say a spell."
"All of that will be explained in due time; you'll just have to wait." Danu teased. "Now come on; we have a lot of ground to cover." With that, Danu set off on top of the snow, and Harry followed with his trunk in his pocket and Hedwig's cage in his hand.
They traveled deep into the wood, Harry growing steadily colder as they moved. He hadn't worn anything remotely like snowpants, he hadn't expected a hike. His knit jacket was too thin to shield him against the cold winter day. He grumbled something to himself that even he didn't know what it was. The trees were getting decidedly thicker and more gnarled as they walked, their twisted figures foreboding to anyone who didn't know where they were going. Harry marveled how people as beautiful as the sylphs would want to live here, in this ugly part of the forest. Before Harry could register what was really going on, Danu had stopped.
"Here's our destination." Harry looked around. He couldn't see anything but a few rocks in a circle, and a little clearing off to his right. The trees were about as twisted as he expected they'd get.
"What-?"
"Shhh." Danu breathed, finger centering at the lips, drawing a line down from them and he brought her hand back at a resting position.
Harry could tell he was doing magic, but not just why she needed to perform a spell. The pine off to the side started to ruffle its needles slightly, Harry felt a summery wind send goosebumps up his spine. The whispers caught up with his ears, a spell in their words as Danu walked in a circle, just inside the stones, and Harry could have sworn he could see the magic running through the veins in the older sylph's body. In the snow, several symbols appeared before he could figure out just what they were, and he looked back at Danu. His lavender eyes had closed, their lids glowing somehow, and when she was done with his circle, she stepped into the middle, addressing the eight rocks after muttering something incoherent.
Danu turned back to Harry, and motioned him to the circle. Harry followed his instructions, warily watching the sylph now bearing a beckoning look on his face. Then Harry saw it; there was a staircase leading downward.
As he stepped down into the rocks, he felt the doorway to his past close behind him in the form of the "trapdoor" of sorts closing. Danu motioned to him not to talk, and only to concentrate on the next step. Harry focused his attention on his footwork, not wanting to be the victim of a cruel joke. He could hear his footsteps echo with dull thuds, somehow Danu's steps didn't make the slightest of noise. He wondered what Ron would sound like trying to descend these stairs, but felt a cruel jolt as the step he hadn't been concentrating on vanished. Luckily, the more experienced of the pair caught him, and Harry reminded himself to concentrate on the dingy steps of his mind.
They traveled on and on, and Harry felt himself growing colder and colder, until he was sure he was going to get pneumonia. At long last, the stair he had to concentrate on was a floor, and there was a door with a whole bunch of ancient symbols on it. Danu opened it, and, with a flourish, Harry found himself outside again.
But he was not alone. He was in a whole village of sylphs. Oh, the sights! The sounds! Harry couldn't keep himself from staring at the sylphs. He smelled rich food cooking, and saw a group of sylph pay for a meal at an outdoor café. But the café was nothing like the cafés he had seen. It was rather like a stand, and sylphs sat on the ground as one sylph played what looked like a clarinet, only it was a handsome brown, with two ends that went in different directions and it was strapped to the sylph's shoulders. The writing was all in that language Harry had once called ancient. He stared at one shop, advertising the latest fashions in its windows. There were many blacksmiths, restaurants, a single library, cafés, and then Harry noticed that the sylphs who must've lived in the country were advertising their goods, the livestock they used was the best Harry had ever seen. And the sylphs themselves! They were all beautiful people, delicate and feminine in some ways, and strong with masculinity in others. They were of all colors and ethnicities like he had seen in the Open World. They walked by a couple that looked as if one was heavy and swollen with child.
And everything seemed so ancient. Harry recognized many of the symbols as Celtic, but knew not their meaning. There was no siding on the buildings, they were all stone, and mixed in with the plants and trees that Harry recognized. It was obvious that this was the 'big city' of the sylphs, but no where did he see anything that remotely categorized this place as urban. A lot of the private rooms of the families were completely open and held in only by pillars, letting light travel into the home. He also noticed that every single building had an Astronomy Tower, or at least a place that could easily be used for that kind of purpose. The whole city was built up to the banks of a river. Harry wondered where the sylvan world stopped. But all those thoughts were lost as he saw where Danu was taking him.
The palace was huge, in every sense of the word. You might call it a castle, but it looked so much more open and inviting than even Hogwarts, and Harry could see several sylphs milling around through the large windows of the rooms. There were towers, Harry wondered where they all led. If he were to live here, it would take him forever to find his way around. However, he didn't have time to stand and gawk at it; Danu was at the gates already and knocking for entrance.
"Ah! Danu! I trust you have Harry?" A guard asked.
"Yes, of course I do. He's right here." Danu motioned for Harry not to be so timid and step up to the guard.
"Honored to meet you at last, Potter, delighted, now, Eldrid is waiting for you in her office." The guard addressed Danu and Harry together.
"Thank you." Danu quickly led Harry through the castle, not giving him a chance to really look around in amazement at the artifacts and furniture and so on and so forth.
When they reached an oval door at the very center of the palace, Harry knew they were there, as all of the other doors were circular. Danu stepped up to the large brass knocker and knocked three times.
"Come in, Danu, Potter." Called a deep voice that sounded old and wise.
Danu opened the door, and Harry saw that there were two seats in front of the desk where Eldrid sat. They were made out of a rich mahogany wood and seemed to be ancient. Eldrid was of an extremely dark complexion, like Dean, his African-English roommate had been. Harry looked at Eldrid's long hair, all braided in certain designs around the face, but also swept back into a colorful blue scarf with gold patterns all over it. Eldrid didn't look old, but Harry knew the sylph was ancient beyond Dumbldedore's years.
"Well, take a seat!" Eldrid spoke directly to Harry for the first time. Harry quickly sank into one of the old, ancient chairs, and let Ciaran rest on the arm. "I'm sure you have questions, I always did when I was your age." Harry relaxed under the warm smile he received here. "And I will get them answered in due time. Just let me tell you a story."
"Fireball?" Eldrid asked both Harry and Danu, and both accepted. The hard candy burst in Harry's mouth with a flavor he was unfamiliar with, but they were good, cooling and fiery at the same time.
"These are good. They're different." Harry said, looking down at his lap.
"I've always thought so. But on with the story that I was going to tell you.
"I can sense that you already know that sylphs can read each other and mortals so closely that some wonder if they can read minds. So I won't get into that. We have a lot to cover, and very little time in which to do it.
"Anyway, when your father was young, he had always been so fascinated with the people up there-" Eldrid made a gesture with his hand toward the ceiling. "that he knew one day he'd live there himself. Then he took it a step further. He had a premonition, a premonition that he'd have you.
"It will come as no surprise that at first we didn't believe him when he said he'd sire our next monarch. It was crazy. We were in no need of another monarch; the Order was full. But then, our monarch back then had a premonition that you'd come around as well. Both premonitions had said that half of your blood must be a witch's. Your father knew so much, and we were reluctant, but soon other things he had predicted, like some of Voldemort's attacks on witches and wizards came true. So, we decided to trust him, and we tested him. I won't go into full detail now, but he passed every one of our tests.
"When he was thirteen, we deemed that he was ready for the Open World, he could speak English perfectly, if not with a slight accent, and he knew all about the culture he'd be joining. He also knew, as well, of the threat of Lord Voldemort.
"I know that you've been deeply involved with Lord Voldemort, and that you know that Lord Voldemort was trying to conquer death. He was killing sylphs at an alarming rate, jealous at our near immortality. None of us really knew how these attacks occurred, but the last person to leave the sylvan Under World before Danu was your father, and the attacks on the sylphs stopped. That was why James had to be so careful, if he was found out, it would mean a sure death. But there was one more dangerous thing about Voldemort.
"He had stirred up the Tormentors. We had long thought we had banished them to the core of the earth, but the hatred and killings he caused stirred them to break free."
"Are they like Dementors?" Harry asked, confused as to why they were important.
"Yes, and no. They lived off the same principal, that of stealing souls, but they could kill whenever they wished to, just by becoming completely still, and they'd kill everything within a mile radius. They represent pure evil at its worst; indifference."
Harry contemplated this thought for a while, and Eldrid continued.
"James was smart. Almost as smart as you appear to be. He knew the Tormentors were back, but no one listened to him. His job was to find your mother and make you. Actually, when you think about it, quite a depressing job in life, but it was his task, and, as you are sitting in front of me, he did it well.
"Your mother was extremely intelligent as well, but she made one slip-up; she made Voldemort angry when she published her books. Somehow, via Peter Pettigrew, Voldemort found out that you and James were sylvan, and he tried to kill you. He killed your father for the study he was doing; he killed your mother to get to you." Harry looked confused, but then realized something. "Yes, Harry, he wasn't going to kill her so he would be able to watch her soul die with the losses of you and her love, James.
"Voldemort was shallow enough not to realize that you were the next sylvan monarch. He only wanted to kill you for the study. But, as you have figured out, you are the next ruler of our people. Possibly the greatest there ever will be."
Harry took a moment to quietly contemplate his new role in life. Monarch? Ruler? Order? What?
"I'm sorry, but I don't know what you mean by monarch, and the Order, and all of that stuff, and I'm sure that if I did, it would all make perfect sense. Could you please explain it?" Harry asked, an imploring look on his face.
"Oh, yes, of course. Well, the monarch is the person who rules the sylphs. They are Seen to come, and are known who they are before their birth. No, they aren't all of the same family, your father was one of the poorer sylphs there was. Monarchs are usually raised by their parents in the sylph world, but in your case, that could never happen. Your mother was a witch, and we were forbidding your father to return here, for the sake of our world. Anyway, we would have had problems if it were only a monarch that was leading us, so we came up with the Order, in your lands they would call them advisors, who take over if an issue pops up and the monarch is gone. That's the basics, you'll learn more in the future." explained Eldrid.
"I know that I should just trust you, but you're so young, and our current monarch just died, leaving you here in their place. Don't do anything without the consent of the Order unless it won't directly affect anyone but yourself. You have a lot to learn in the next couple of years. Your role is vital, extremely important, for it was said that you'd be the one to save our dying race. Our entire existance rests on your shoulders, and if you make any mistakes, lives will be to pay." Eldrid said this in an extremely worried tone, warning Harry.
Harry sat there, the weight of an entire civilization on his shoulders. He heard Danu move a little in the chair next to him, and lifted his head to look at her.
"Your eyes! Oh, Eldrid, look at his eyes!" He exclaimed, pointing at Harry.
"Ah, yes, I was wondering . . . Harry, your eyes don't have the same abilities that sylvan eyes do, but ever since you turned five you were supposed to have an ointment put on the lids, but you didn't, so, if we can't heal them soon, you might be blind." Eldrid said this like it was no big deal. "Here, I have some here, if you do this ritual every night until I say you can stop, they will heal." Eldrid handed him a bottle, ornately carved with vines and branches.
"Oh, and-" Harry started, but never got the chance to finish.
"Ah, yes, the witches and wizards couldn't see it because you unconsciously used glamour on your eyes to make them look normal, but, as I can see, you overdid it a little and your eyes are too bright." Eldrid felt his face crinkle in amusement, something that rarely happened, if ever.
"But, I don't think Harry sounds right. No, it doesn't. Do you think it does, Danu?" Eldrid addressed Danu for the first time since the explanation started. Danu shook his head quietly, meekly.
"Your parents gave you a middle name that is rather fitting, don't you think, Danu?"
"Wh-what was it, Eldrid?" Danu was obviously not used to being addressed by Eldrid.
"Liamh(2)." Eldrid let the name roll off her tongue. He looked to Harry. "What do you think of that? If you don't want to take that name, you can always choose another."
Harry nodded his head, then said, "Liamh it is, then."
"All right, then. Danu, show Liamh to his room, he'll need to be awake tomorrow when you take him to buy his clothes and other such stuff."
"Right, come on, Liamh." Danu bowed her head slightly to Eldrid, and Liamh did the same as he walked out.
Liamh was so tired, he didn't even have the strength to look around as he was being led to his chambers. When Danu opened a large circular door, Liamh peered in and saw a well-furnished suite of rooms. Danu gently pushed him in and closed the door behind him, and Liamh was left alone to his own devices. He raised one hand to his face, as if seeing if he was still there.
"Liamh." He whispered to himself, trying out the name on his tongue.
A/N: I do believe that's the worst chapter I've ever written! It just kept getting longer and longer as I had to keep writing and writing the explanation. So much for being about the same size as the last one.
I don't feel overly confident about this chapter, but I'd really like it if you'd review for me. Pleeeeaaaassse review for me! If I don't get reviews, sometimes I wonder if anyone actually reads this.
(1)-Inspiration from Bridget Jones's Diary! (That movie rocks!)
(2)-Liamh-lee-AHV
Chapter 6: A Thousand Pinpoints of Light Come Together to Land on Liamh
Harry stared at his eyes in the mirror. Luckily, they had stopped bleeding earlier and he just wanted to make sure that it didn't look like anything was wrong with them. However, his eyes, apparantly, had a different idea.
The pupils had turned a painful looking reddish-purplish, and the sclera appeared to have a ton of blood vessels popping simultaneously. His irises were clouded over, and had taken on a funny greyish tinge. He moaned in frustration. They looked better behind the protective shield of his glasses, and he just had to hope that Sirius and Remus wouldn't notice. He felt extremely vulnerable, exposed, like he was on a showcase. He sighed, and headed downstairs with the presents he had bought for Sirius and Remus in Hogsmeade.
As soon as he had made his way to the dining room, Sirius shouted over to him.
"Oi Harry! I know teenagers sleep late, but this is ridiculous!"
"Sorry, I had a minor crisis about my glasses, but in the end, good prevailed, and I found them." Harry said, smiling brightly to see his godfather absolutely covered in whatever he was cooking.
"Whatever are you trying to do, Sirius?"
"I'm making string soup!" He said, proudly smiling at his godson.
Harry carefully walked over to Sirius. This didn't look like a good idea. There was flour all over the place, Sirius was holding a huge knife that was just about ready to turn his hands into a Peter Pettigrew look-alike, and was that soup blue?
Harry quickly and deftly made Sirius put the knife down, and looked over at the recipe book that was currently trying to look as though it was innocent to the mess the Animagi had caused. Fruitcake. He was trying to make fruitcake. The other recipe book, that was currently hanging to dry after an apparent trip into the blue soup, had the page opened to a recipe for a kind of string soup. Harry looked from this recipe book, down to the soup, and back again.
"Um, you know it isn't supposed to be blue, don't you?" Harry asked tentatively.
"It isn't?" Sirius countered innocently.
"No, Snuffles, it isn't." (1)
"Well, I made it blue, so tough." They quietly laughed together for a while.
"So, what was the crisis with the glasses?" Sirius queried.
"Oh, I forgot where the nightstand is." Harry said, effectively blushing to add to the lie.
"Maybe it's a good thing we aren't going to be living together too long. I don't think we'd have enough stability to keep the house running properly." Sirius chuckled.
"Now I'm really worried about you when I have to leave."
"Oh, don't be Harry. One dysfunctional person can survive on their own, but two can just get them into even more of a mess."
They were silent for a short while, each pondering nothing.
"Do you want help, Sirius?"
"No, that's all right." Harry gave him a skeptical look before going to send Hedwig off with presents.
* * *
When Lupin knocked on the door, Harry was just finishing up his letter to Ron. He looked up, and quickly walked to the door. Sirius was right behind him, playfully shoving him over so he could open the door. Harry stood off to the side, nursing his injuries from the playful push Sirius had administered him.
"Moony! Come in, do you have the ornaments?"
"Yes, of course I do, Padfoot, how incompetent do you honestly think I am?" Lupin held up a box of an elongated shape, and grinned roguely. He kicked off his shoes and walked into the dining room, spotting Harry in the process.
"And Harry! There you are, I was wondering when I'd see you."
"Hello, erm . . . " Harry stuttered, not really knowing what to call his former professor.
"Oh, just call me Remus. I was one of your father's closest friends, you're practically my nephew."
"Hello, Remus." Harry said, smiling warmly and reaching for his hand, but instead got a hug.
Quickly, Remus had his coat off and was hanging it on the coatrack. With a second glance at Harry, he cocked his head to the side.
"Did you know . . . that your eyes . . . are . . . brighter than they normally are?" He asked, his own eyes glazing over lightly as he looked at his best friend's godson. Harry looked down at his shirt.
"Oh! It must be because I'm wearing green." He grinned as Sirius moved in to look at his eyes, shrugged, and moved on to say that they had to get going. Remus and Harry smiled at each other, an understanding reached between the two.
"What are we to do about lights?" Sirius asked, scratching his chin. He turned to Remus. "Lily was always the good one with the charms." Remus raised an eyebrow at him. "Oh yeah! I almost forgot that you two competed all the time for the top spot in charms!"
"Right. Well, I think that we could do just a little . . . " he trailed off as he sized up the tree. "Erubescere stemma!"
The tree lit up, blushing tons of luminescent colors, their rays merging with the tree's boughs. Sirius started clapping, and Harry felt himself slipping back into a childish wonder that he always felt when he was surrounded by magic. Innocence. He was innocent again. Remus flushed happily as the colors whirled around the room.
"There, Moony, I knew you could do it!" Sirius shouted. Remus gave him a look.
"Do we have tinsel?" Sirius asked.
"Tinsel? No, but we do have these little hook things that you just put on the branches." Remus countered, handing them to Sirius.
Sirius smiled and started to attack the tree.
"Here, Harry, while Padfoot is amused with the hook things, we can put on some of these ornaments." He leaned over and ungracefully tumbled onto the couch. Harry cautiously sat in front of him.
The first thing he noticed upon looking at the ornaments was that a lot of them were the colors for Gryffindor. The next thing he noticed was that the ones that weren't the Gryffindor colors were homemade. There were bulbs, bells, strings of popcorn, something that was extremely beautiful and reminded Harry of the buildings in St. Petersburg, and a star for the top. Remus took out the strings of popcorn and examined them.
"Perhaps a bit moldy, but nonetheless still good." Harry wrinkled his nose, taking out an ornate ornament and standing to go to the tree.
After several hours of Sirius becoming re-fascinated with the Christmas decorations, and the living room looked like a tornado had gone through it. Harry laughed at the two of his father's friends, their age showing through their laughter. He wondered what it would be like if his father and mother had been older when they had him. He didn't really want to dwell on things that were only going to make him sad, so he just shook his head to himself and followed them into the dining room.
"Now, you all, I have something very special planned for dinner this evening." Sirius said, mock proudly.
"Oh, no, I've had way too much exposure to your cooking, Padfoot, why don't you just let Harry cook?"
"He wasn't interested." Sirius looked over at Harry, a small grin on his face.
"Well, you never asked, Sirius. Maybe if you had admitted you needed help, we wouldn't be eating . . . "
"Harry! Don't spoil the surprise! You have no idea how much . . . thought and planning went into this meal, and I think you should just leave all that be!" Sirius exclaimed, feigning anger.
"Oh, just go on with it, Sirius! Get out the supposedly edible food and we can get on with it!"
Sirius disappeared off into the hallway, and through to the kitchen, and Remus leaned toward Harry.
"Really, Harry tell me what it is, I'd rather not have another nasty surprise like I did with the whole rock cake episode." He whispered conspiratorially.
"On the menu, we have blue soup and fruitcake." Harry enunciated in his best French accent.
"Oh, well, I've had his fruitcake before, and if you like French bread, try some, it ought to be safe." Remus quickly sat up straight and snapped to wary attention as Sirius walked into the room with his pathetic excuse for string soup. He showed it off to the werewolf, who blanched, and said, "Well, if that just doesn't make my mouth water with anticipation."
"Did you come up with the recipe by yourself?" Harry teased.
"Yes, and I must say, I love the color." Remus added.
"Oh, shut up."
"Just . . . how . . . did it get to be so . . . blue?" Remus obviously suspected something.
"Well, in the book, it said to put the parsnips and string in, and the only string I had was blue, so the dye came off into the water." Sirius admitted.
"I can't eat that anymore. Sorry, Sirius, but I have a problem with dye. It doesn't agree with my digestive system." Harry gently set his spoon in the center of the table.
* * *
Harry stared into the fire that was roaring behind the beautiful, yet slightly off-kilter, Christmas tree in the living room. Remus had gone home with the present Harry had gotten for him (a cup that never emptied.) He had his knees drawn up to his chest, his bare feet resting on the couch.
Sirius had gone to bed earlier that night, declaring that he hadn't gotten enough sleep the night before, apparantly waking early to "cook" their banquet. Harry hadn't slept well for a while, the only exception being last night, and, frankly, he didn't want to. He was still trying to figure out the dream from last night.
Obviously, the child was in Slytherin, and Harry automatically ruled out that it was a girl. Blaise Zabini, who was thin enough to be the boy in the dream, was ruled out because he was a quieter Slytherin, the most ambitious, and not one that was likely to shy away from an opportunity that would be easily obtained. Crabbe and Goyle, well, let's just say they speak for themselves. Then there were all the other Slytherins, but he knew that he personally had to know the boy, which only left one person.
Harry heard the staircase leading down to the dining room creak with the weight of his godfather. He looked up from his analytical study of the way the flames danced. Sirius rubbed his eyes before walking into the living room and seeing his godson (?) still awake on the couch.
"Harry? What are you doing still up?"
"I haven't slept well for a while now, so I think I've become an insomniac."
"I'll ignore that. Is there something bothering you?"
"No, not really, I just have a question." Harry mumbled.
"Ask away."
"Who . . . was the woman?"
"You might have to be a bit more specific about that. There are lots of women."
"In the pictures. In my room. I noticed that it was mainly just the one woman. You know, with the small smile, kinda like Mona Lisa's."
Sirius visually paled, saddening from the memory that Harry had brought up from the delves of what years in Azkaban had done to him. He stumbled a bit toward the couch, hesitated, but sat down next to the young sylph. His eyes were trying to hide themselves, to hide the pain, but he eventually showed his true Gryffindor bravery and looked up at Harry.
"Her name was Ophelia."
Sirius faltered a bit, but somehow was encouraged by the gently probing eyes that were such a brilliant green they nearly glowed in the dark. Cat's eyes . . . he thought to himself.
"She was truly the most beautiful woman I had ever met. Irish, she was half muggle and had been sent to hide away with me because her father had been handling Death Eater propaganda. At first, things had been rough, but we got used to living together.
"James and Lily couldn't have been more happy. You were still just barely concealed in her womb, and Ophelia had loved the idea that she'd be around a baby quite often. We had started out as friends, but a growing attraction scared us, and we barely spoke for weeks and weeks.
"She had been planning to go into interior design, but, as she was in hiding, she had nothing to do, so she completely redid my house. I had been aspiring to be a photographer, but I was no rich man, and I needed the money from my apothecary to carry on. She was quite aware of her stunning good looks, and offered to model for me, and those pictures you saw were taken by me."
"Why didn't you make them move, like most photographers in the wizard world would?" Harry queried, intrigued by the story.
"There are some things too beautiful to truly capture, and I didn't want to break the spell."
There was a moment of silence, in which Harry looked over at his godfather, who was close to tears.
"As it turns out, it was not me she should have been hiding with, but your parents. I came home one day, and found it in ruins. Her body had been left for me to find in her bed, her eyes poked out so she stared up at me with nothing but two bloody holes. There was a note. It read perhaps she should have been more like her father."
There was a growing silence as Sirius' shoulders started to heave, sobbing the dry sobs that had been waiting to come for so long. Harry brought him into his arms in a hug, patting him on the back and muttering words he thought would have been comforting.
"I would have married her, had I had the money to get her an appropriate ring." He sobbed into the now wet front of Harry's sweater.
"I thought as much, Sirius, I thought as much." Harry whispered into Sirius' hair.
* * *
Winter came full force soon, bringing the beautiful snows of Christmas that everyone would be cursing in a month, but for now, everything was beautiful. Sirius would have never admitted this to Harry, but he was relieved to have talked about Ophelia's death to someone; it was like physically lifting a burden. Harry inwardly feared the day after Christmas, when he'd be taken away to the world of the sylphs, never knowing when he'd see his friends again. But for now, it was Christmas day, and he was sleeping.
"Harry! Wake up! Oh, wake up, Harry!" Sirius shouted, throwing a pillow at his godson's head.
"Ow! What-" Harry mumbled, sitting up and retrieving his glasses, though they didn't help him see at all anymore.
"Happy Christmas!"
Harry fell back into bed, his groan barely concealed, smiling between the hands that covered his face. "Happy Christmas, Sirius."
"Oh, come on, I want to give you your gift!"
"Yep, okay, I'm up, coming." Harry incoherently grumbled.
Harry tried as he might, but couldn't exactly see where he was going, and stumbled toward the stairs. Sirius caught him, tactfully decided not to say anything, and helped him over to the stairs.
"What time is it?" Harry moaned.
"5:00."
Harry glared at Sirius, who shrugged cheekily and led him over to the Christmas tree. There was a heap of presents for both of them and Sirius had conveniantly separated them into two piles.
"You've been up for a while, I see?"
"Well, I didn't want to wake you up too early, but I just couldn't resist."
"Sometimes I wonder how you can be over thirty."
"Come on!" Sirius eagerly pulled the tired sylph over to the presents.
"Open mine first! Open mine first!" Sirius was ecstatic. Harry was starting to wonder just how early Sirius had gotten up.
"Okay! Okay, I'll open yours first." Harry was trying somewhat to keep from laughing at Sirius' immaturity.
Harry looked at Sirius with a question in his features. "Okay, right, calming down now."
Harry carefully pulled away at the paper, and found a box on the inside. It was long and thin, and on the cover he could see that it came from Flourish and Blott's in Diagon Alley. He lifted it, and found that it was extremely heavy. Holding his breath, he lifted the lid, and gasped.
It was a full set of his mother's books.
He looked up at Sirius, who was absolutely beaming at the awed look on Harry's face. Harry immediately forgave him for waking him up at 5:00 in the morning.
"Th-thank you, Sirius, thank you so much." He hugged Sirius round the neck, Sirius nearly being bowled over onto the floor.
"I thought you'd like them." Harry pulled away from the hug, glancing up at his godfather, finally becoming awake enough to be excited.
"Now open mine."
"Okay!" Sirius grabbed the present from Harry and ripped viciously at the paper. He very nearly dropped the present out of the box, but Sirius couldn't help but wonder why his godson would give him jewelry.
"What is it?"
"Open it first!"
Sirius opened the small box, and fingered the elegant silver chain that he saw there. He delicately took it out, trying not to restrain it on the box's opening. What appeared to be a charm fell into his hands, but rather it was more of an extension of the cord. It was knotted into a design that made it appear to just be able to come apart at will.
"Okay, now what is it?"
Harry smiled at Sirius, and he moved over to show his godfather the charm. "It's a Celtic knot called a Maze. It is supposed to help you to brave life's struggles, and emerge a more centered, stronger, and triumphant person."
Sirius looked down at the necklace that was in his hands, and realized that this was supposed to help him with his demons. Such a thoughtful gift he had never received. "Thank you, Harry, thank you."
He slipped it over his head, then grinned at him. "Now you have to open one!"
* * *
It appeared that Hermione had given Harry a blank book that never ran out of pages, Ron gave him a year's worth of chocolate frogs with a note that said that no matter where Harry had to go, he shouldn't have to go there without chocolate frogs. Remus gave him a trumpet. Harry was still trying to figure this out. Mrs. Weasley sent him a sweater, possibly the best one she had ever made for him. Hagrid sent him a gecko. Harry was still trying to figure this one out as well. And, the last present puzzled him more than all the others. Possibly even more than the trumpet.
"What's the note say?" Sirius asked, leaning over to look at what Dumbledore had written to Harry.
"I know you don't know how to use this now, but I have heard that in the future you will. Professor Albus Dumbledore." Harry read. He opened the box, and a sword fell out.
Harry looked at it. The handle was simple, a single piece of metal spiraling above where he'd put his hand, making it appear as if it was made of magic. The blade had an inscription at the bottom in runic letters that somehow Harry could read. The rest of the sword was covered in various knots that Harry couldn't know the meaning to yet. He lifted the sword into his hands, finding it to be feather light and easy to control. With a shudder, he wondered when he'd have to use it. He put the sword in its mahogany leather sheathe, which was also inscribed with the runic letters.
"Why . . . how would Dumbledore hear that I'd be in battle?" Harry asked Sirius.
"Dumbledore's always known more than anyone, even more than the Minister of Magic did at times. He was in contact with whoever is ruling the sylphs, and probably passed this on to you. All I know is that it certainly isn't a wizard's sword." Sirius stared at the sword in awe, and he lifted it in its sheathe. "Oh, Harry, its too heavy!"
"Heavy? I didn't think it was heavy."
"Must be protected by a sort of spell." Sirius pondered this thought. "According to the fairy tales I was told when I was little, sylphs are more magical than wizards, so their spells can't be broken unless they want them to be broken."
"How do you know about sylphs?" Harry queried.
"When I was little, tales of sylphs were more popular, but they weren't correct. I always thought they were just a mixture of fairies and pixies, but then I met your father, and you, and I had to completely erase that vision from my mind. But that's all I know."
Harry stared back down at the haunting inscription. This sword is the sword that the greatest ruler of sylphs will use. Guard it well, all who come by it, you hold a race's future in your hands. Harry felt the lives of all those who had died at the blade of this sword, their very souls rushing to his fingertips. He felt their hatred, their lust for power. He wondered when it had been forged, of what great fire had this sword been created from.
"Harry? I have one more Christmas surprise for you." Sirius cut through Harry's silent reverie.
"You do?"
"The Weasleys, Remus, and the Grangers are coming for Christmas dinner here." Sirius grinned from ear to ear.
"They are?" Harry sat there, stunned, then, "Are you cooking?"
Sirius laughed, then fake pouted, and Harry laughed with him.
* * *
As it turned out, Harry ended up doing most of the cooking, with Sirius at his side, assisting in the cooking of the ham. Harry stared at him, smiling as he nearly dropped the pan of goose on the floor. As Harry didn't trust him with any job that involved mashing things, Harry did the mashed potatoes and cranberries, while Sirius was being carefully supervised with the tart. The only thing that Harry felt Sirius was competent enough to make was the hot chocolate and tea, so Harry left him to his own devices while doing that.
Harry finally had the time to fall onto the couch in the living room, but was despaired to see that wrappings were all over the place. He decided it didn't matter, and went to put his presents in his room.
Hedwig hooted loudly at him, and he went over to feed her an owl treat. It was, after all, Christmas. He didn't think that he should leave his things out; they'd just need to be transported tomorrow when he left. He opened his trunk and carefully put his sword at the very bottom. From there he packed away all the other things (minus his Weasley sweater; he was wearing that.) Harry kissed Hedwig's beak and practically flew down the stairs when he heard the doorbell ring. Sirius got to it first, and he saw Remus' silhoutette in the doorway.
"Remus! Hello, Remus!" Harry said from behind Sirius.
"Hello, Harry, Sirius, I do hope that Sirius didn't cook again tonight, that would have been a disaster." Sirius playfully punched him in the shoulder, both of them grinning.
A few minutes later, the Weasleys arrived, they were made up of Ron, Mrs. and Mr. Weasley. Percy was with his current girlfriend (he had broken up with Penelope a few years back.) The twins were being interviewed at Zonko's ("on Christmas?" had been Mrs. Weasley's words when she found out.) Hermione arrived with her parents, and she immediately hugged Harry in greeting.
"Woah, I never thought you'd live in a house as nice as this right after being in Azkaban for so long!" Ron exclaimed in awe, staring around at the dining room.
"Tactful, Ron, tactful." Hermione whispered sarcastically in his ear.
"Well, they had made my old house a museum while I was in Azkaban, and so when I was pardoned, they just gave it back to me. Although, I must say it is kinda weird." Sirius answered calmly.
"Oh." Ron looked down at his feet, feeling awful that he had said that. "Where do you sleep, Harry?"
"Oh, yeah, I should show you guys that, shouldn't I?" Harry turned to the adults to excuse them.
"Come on, follow me, up these stairs." Harry said, talking to Ron and Hermione with his back turned.
At the top of the landing, Harry turned and saw that the two were looking everywhere. He smiled to himself. It was like back when they were first years, exploring Hogwarts for the first time. He padded down the carpeted hallway and opened the door to his room. He opened the door, stood in front of it, and said "Ta da!"
Hermione walked right in and made herself at home, looking around at everything. She noticed the pictures, and motioned Ron over to her.
"Harry? Do you know who this woman is?" she asked, curious.
"Her name was Ophelia. She had been Sirius' . . . love. Before he got put in Azkaban." Harry explained. Hermione was about to ask more questions, but realized that Harry didn't want to answer more questions, so she let it rest.
"Oh! I have to show you something!" Harry dug around in his trunk, and brought up the sword.
"Wicked!" Ron exclaimed when he saw it.
"Do you know what the writing is?" Hermione said, examining the sword's intricate detail.
"Yes, I suppose it's a prophecy." Harry shrugged, trying not to make it sound like a big deal.
"Oh, well, cool." Ron muttered. "But, why d'you have a sword? You don't even know how to use one!"
"Um, Professor Dumbledore insinuated that I'd know how in the future, maybe I'll have to learn as a sylph." Harry explained, looking down at the sword in his hands.
"Can I see the hilt?" Ron asked. Harry nodded, unsheathing it and lifting it so the light caught on the tip of the sword. He thought it strange how perfectly it fit in his hand. "Woah! I don't know much about swords, Harry, but I can tell you one thing! That isn't just a sword, it's not even a wizard's sword! Probably a sylph sword."
"Really? By the way, Ron, how would you know?" Hermione joined in.
"Remember the Giant Chess Set we had to get past in first year?" They both nodded. "Well, I paid close attention to the swords, and they were blunt, and broader, not slim and elegant like this one. I knew they weren't Muggle swords, because they'd be too hard to come by."
"I'm impressed." Hermione said approvingly.
"Can I hold it?" Ron pleaded.
"Of course, just don't drop it, it's quite heavy." Harry smiled at his friend. Ron gave him a look, as Harry seemed to be having no trouble whatsoever holding the sword. He took it in his hands, eyes widening at the weight of it.
"Holy-" Hermione shot him a glare, and Ron coiled away from it, not finishing his cuss. "I mean, wow, Harry, this is too heavy! How are you supposed to fight with it?"
"I think the correct term is to 'fence,' or to 'duel,' not to 'fight.'" Harry annoyingly corrected. "And I think as I learn it won't seem so heavy."
"Harry! I want to know what the prophecy is! Now, what is it?" Hermione queried impatiently.
"Well, it says right here-" Harry pointed to the runes on both the hilt and the sheath. "'This sword is the sword that the greatest ruler of sylphs will use. Guard it well, all who come by it, you hold a race's future in your hands.'"
They sat pondering for a moment, but then Remus stuck his head in the door.
"Sorry to interrupt, but Sirius needs help with the cooking. And, Harry, I think you'd better help him after the whole blue soup episode."
Harry smiled, while Ron and Hermione shared a confused look. "I'll be right down."
They all trooped down to the living room, where it looked like poor Mr. Granger was being bombarded with questions about life as Muggles (Harry was pleased to see that Mr. Weasley hadn't changed a bit since being elected Minister of Magic.) Meanwhile, Mrs. Weasley and Mrs. Granger were having a conversation of their own, that Remus looked ready to join. Hermione and Ron went off to sit on the couch and talk after Harry motioned that it was okay to do so. Cautiously, Harry approached the kitchen, carefully opening the door to peek in and check on his godfather.
"Having problems?" He asked, a twinkle in his eye.
"Yes! What do I do after the goose's done?" Sirius begged, pleading with Harry to help him not mess this up.
"You leave it, all we have to do is prepare the food now." Harry took up a dish, and Sirius, seeing his example, knew what to do now, and did his part in getting the dish servable. After this, Harry took up most of the dishes, leaving Sirius with the rest, and they paraded into the dining room with the food.
"Dinner is served!" Sirius called into the living room, and the whole party came in to take a seat. Somehow, there were just enough chairs for everyone to have a seat. Harry automatically knew it was a spell.
"Is there anyone who has to say grace?" Sirius asked, conscious that he wasn't that active a Christian.
"I'll say it." Mr. Granger volunteered. With a few more words, they were all able to dig into their meals.
The conversation that evening was scattered, Harry, Ron, and Hermione just talking about anything, Mrs. Weasley joining in wherever she was wanted, between Mrs. Granger and everyone else. Sirius and Remus were holding ship down at their end of the table with Mr. Weasley and Mr. Granger, telling stories about the Marauders, now that Fred and George weren't there. So, roughly, their conversation sounded something like this:
"And so we were all in Spain-"
"Really? Harry, you'll have to write us-"
"What's it like? Being a mother for a living?"
"And somehow, it got left on the train-"
"Don't worry, I could never stop writing-"
"Oh, sometimes I wish I had a job, but there is so much-"
"'Where's my pass? Where's my pass?'"
"Yeah, we'll always know each other."
"So, what's it like to have to nag people about their hygiene every day?"
Needless to say, the evening ended all too quickly for them (by that time good friends.) Before they knew what was happening, they were saying their goodbyes and leaving. As was expected, Remus was the last to leave, staying a little while longer to help Sirius and Harry clean up. When they were all finally gone, Harry sat on the couch, a mug of hot chocolate with cayenne in it in his hands. The remainder of their night was reflected in the mess that lay at his feet. Harry stared at the flames, their dancing, lithe figures entrancing him. He felt tired; an almost unfamiliar feeling taking control of his eyelids.
"You tired as I am?" His godfather indistinctly mumbled.
"Yes."
"Go to bed, Harry. You have a big day ahead of you tomorrow." With a waving motion of his hands, Sirius dragged Harry up from the couch and up the stairs. Harry couldn't even remember getting ready for bed before he dropped off, hypnotised to sleep.
* * *
The next morning, Harry awoke to the world oblivious to everything around him, he was just exhausted and tried to go back to sleep. Then he remembered that he was going to be picked up today by the sylphs. He lay in bed, breathing in the air of this room. In such a short time, he had come to think of it as home. There was nothing unfamiliar about this house; most of the things in it were Muggle and didn't come as a surprise, making him comfortable there. He supposed everything would be extremely different when he got to the sylvan underworld. He wouldn't know anything. Suddenly, he was vaguely reminded of how much this was like the first time he had switched worlds. It was an almost exact parallel to when Hagrid had picked him up for Hogwarts.
Stewing over that idea, he got out of bed and went down to breakfast. He couldn't find his godfather anywhere, apparantly he was still sleeping. Harry smiled, and went to go take a shower.
He had no idea when the sylph would come for him, so he decided to be ready as soon as possible. After his shower, he threw on the most comfortable clothes he owned, as they would be the best for traveling. For the second time he descended the stairs, and found Sirius dutifully drinking his coffee and making toast for the two.
"Morning, Harry." Sirius smiled at him. "Are all your things packed?"
"Yes, I did that last night." Harry put his hands in his pockets, looking over at his godfather.
"Do you have any idea when you're leaving?"
"No, none. The letter I got just said that they'd be around to pick me up the day after our holiday of Christmas." Harry sat down in a chair that was near the counter.
"Here's your toast."
The rest of the morning was quite a blur to Harry, in getting ready, and the hours started to get tedious as he waited. Finally, around noon, there was a knock on the door.
Harry went to get it, and stopped short.
There, standing there, was one of the most beautiful of people he had ever seen. The sylph was long, elegant, the ears coming to a delicate point behind the brownish-greenish hat it wore. The eyes were an enchanting purple, and they changed color as they flashed around the room. The sylph's hair flowed down to its shoulders in a waterfall of brown. Everything about its face wasn't perfect, but fit together so you couldn't imagine it being any other way. Their skin shone like Harry's did, the dewdrop kisses trying to hide; Harry realized that they couldn't walk around too much in public, it was too obvious that they weren't mortal. The sylph's clothes looked different, sort of like they were working at a Renaissance festival but got lost and were looking for directions.
"Well, you must be Harry?" The sylph said. Their voice flowed like cream over peaches. "I'm Danu, I'll be your guide. Could I speak to Sirius?"
"Yeah, he's just upstairs, I'll go get him. Oh, by the way, come in." Harry stuttered.
As Danu made itself (?) comfortable, Harry went up the stairs.
"Sirius! The sylph is here." Harry called to the hallway. From there he went to get his trunk and Hedwig, leaving Sirius to talk to Danu.
After a long period of heaving and dragging, pleading with the trunk to follow him, it was finally downstairs, and Hedwig followed shortly after. His new gecko (as Harry now called Ciaran) was clinging to his arm. Harry walked into the living room and sat on the windowseat, trying desperately not to interrupt the quiet conversation the two were having.
"Don't worry. Harry'll be fine with us, we've been planning for his arrival for some time now. It was just a matter of getting her here." Danu reassured him.
"That's good. I just have one more question. Is there any way that it'd be possible for me to speak with . . . him every once in a while?" Sirius faltered when finding a pronoun for Harry, and Harry smiled thoughtfully.
"Yes, but not for quite a while. Eventually it will reach a point where it will be safe for him to come into the Open World on her own, he will be able to disappear at her own will. Only then will he be able to make the journey. And who knows? Maybe something will happen . . . " Danu trailed off, and turned to smile at Harry. "I suppose everything is ready?"
"Yes, all I need is to take my stuff out to whatever we'll be travelling in." Harry looked at his things, then back at Danu and Sirius.
"I'll help you then." Danu said, eyes twinkling.
They all trooped out to the main hall, and everyone helped grab something and they made it out to, surprisingly, a car. After everything was packed, Danu stepped aside to let Harry and Sirius say their goodbyes.
"Oh, just come here." Sirius said, opening his arms for Harry. They embraced, the chill of winter settling around them.
Harry felt so . . . lost as he hugged his godfather goodbye. Up until this moment, it hadn't really processed that he'd be leaving; they had been taking things one day at a time. As it turned out, they didn't have time for that. With one last squeeze, they let go, and said goodbye, and with tears in both their eyes, Harry was gone.
Harry stared out the window at the snow, the shadows in the snow, more like. They were on one of those old roads that practically no one drove on, which was just as well, Harry had a feeling that they weren't supposed to draw attention to themselves. He also had a feeling that Danu was one of those quiet, obedient people who prided themselves in their sensibility.
"Danu? Are you the one who's supposed to explain everything to me, or will someone else?" Harry cautiously asked.
"Well, I will be present for the explanation, but I'm not to be the one. I'm still somewhat young, as far as sylphs are concerned, and I don't think they would want me to lead you astray."
"How old are you?" Harry asked politely.
"Fifty."
Harry felt his jaw dropped, and, so as not to look too fishy (not suspicious, the actual fish), he closed his mouth. Fifty? "Well, you've certainly aged well."
"Sylphs don't show signs of age. We just die when we die. The only times when you can see us growing are the years when we are coming into our shape for life. Like you have. You probably won't grow any more than you have, you might develop a tad more, but certainly nothing huge." Danu explained matter-of-factly.
"Oh." There was a silence again. Harry stared out the window again. Just what was he getting into? How much did he have yet to learn? Would Danu answer his questions? He supposed not. But he decided to ask anyway.
"Danu?"
"Yeah?"
"Do you have any idea how much I'll have to learn?"
"Well, you won't have to learn our language, you've been speaking it fluently ever since we got in the car." Harry looked surprised at this, but decided that it was one of those things like Parseltongue. "But you will have to know . . . no, I'm not the one to tell you. That will all be cleared up soon."
With a look of anticipation on his face, Harry tried to check all his questions, and ask them when he would get some answers.
To his great surprise, about an hour later, Danu stopped the car. Harry had drifted off a bit, exceedingly bored, but he looked out the window and saw that they were in the middle of a snow-covered forest. Why had they stopped? Had they run out of gas? And why was Danu getting out?
"Come on, Harry. We're here."
"What? Where's here? What about the car?" Harry couldn't help it, the questions wouldn't stop.
"The car isn't actually a car; it's a boulder." Danu explained as it transformed the car back into its original shape. "And we have some way to walk yet until we reach our destination. Here, I'll make your stuff more portable." Before Harry knew it, all his things were pocket size (with the exception of Hedwig and Ciaran.)
"How did you do that?" Harry asked, awed. "You didn't even say a spell."
"All of that will be explained in due time; you'll just have to wait." Danu teased. "Now come on; we have a lot of ground to cover." With that, Danu set off on top of the snow, and Harry followed with his trunk in his pocket and Hedwig's cage in his hand.
They traveled deep into the wood, Harry growing steadily colder as they moved. He hadn't worn anything remotely like snowpants, he hadn't expected a hike. His knit jacket was too thin to shield him against the cold winter day. He grumbled something to himself that even he didn't know what it was. The trees were getting decidedly thicker and more gnarled as they walked, their twisted figures foreboding to anyone who didn't know where they were going. Harry marveled how people as beautiful as the sylphs would want to live here, in this ugly part of the forest. Before Harry could register what was really going on, Danu had stopped.
"Here's our destination." Harry looked around. He couldn't see anything but a few rocks in a circle, and a little clearing off to his right. The trees were about as twisted as he expected they'd get.
"What-?"
"Shhh." Danu breathed, finger centering at the lips, drawing a line down from them and he brought her hand back at a resting position.
Harry could tell he was doing magic, but not just why she needed to perform a spell. The pine off to the side started to ruffle its needles slightly, Harry felt a summery wind send goosebumps up his spine. The whispers caught up with his ears, a spell in their words as Danu walked in a circle, just inside the stones, and Harry could have sworn he could see the magic running through the veins in the older sylph's body. In the snow, several symbols appeared before he could figure out just what they were, and he looked back at Danu. His lavender eyes had closed, their lids glowing somehow, and when she was done with his circle, she stepped into the middle, addressing the eight rocks after muttering something incoherent.
Danu turned back to Harry, and motioned him to the circle. Harry followed his instructions, warily watching the sylph now bearing a beckoning look on his face. Then Harry saw it; there was a staircase leading downward.
As he stepped down into the rocks, he felt the doorway to his past close behind him in the form of the "trapdoor" of sorts closing. Danu motioned to him not to talk, and only to concentrate on the next step. Harry focused his attention on his footwork, not wanting to be the victim of a cruel joke. He could hear his footsteps echo with dull thuds, somehow Danu's steps didn't make the slightest of noise. He wondered what Ron would sound like trying to descend these stairs, but felt a cruel jolt as the step he hadn't been concentrating on vanished. Luckily, the more experienced of the pair caught him, and Harry reminded himself to concentrate on the dingy steps of his mind.
They traveled on and on, and Harry felt himself growing colder and colder, until he was sure he was going to get pneumonia. At long last, the stair he had to concentrate on was a floor, and there was a door with a whole bunch of ancient symbols on it. Danu opened it, and, with a flourish, Harry found himself outside again.
But he was not alone. He was in a whole village of sylphs. Oh, the sights! The sounds! Harry couldn't keep himself from staring at the sylphs. He smelled rich food cooking, and saw a group of sylph pay for a meal at an outdoor café. But the café was nothing like the cafés he had seen. It was rather like a stand, and sylphs sat on the ground as one sylph played what looked like a clarinet, only it was a handsome brown, with two ends that went in different directions and it was strapped to the sylph's shoulders. The writing was all in that language Harry had once called ancient. He stared at one shop, advertising the latest fashions in its windows. There were many blacksmiths, restaurants, a single library, cafés, and then Harry noticed that the sylphs who must've lived in the country were advertising their goods, the livestock they used was the best Harry had ever seen. And the sylphs themselves! They were all beautiful people, delicate and feminine in some ways, and strong with masculinity in others. They were of all colors and ethnicities like he had seen in the Open World. They walked by a couple that looked as if one was heavy and swollen with child.
And everything seemed so ancient. Harry recognized many of the symbols as Celtic, but knew not their meaning. There was no siding on the buildings, they were all stone, and mixed in with the plants and trees that Harry recognized. It was obvious that this was the 'big city' of the sylphs, but no where did he see anything that remotely categorized this place as urban. A lot of the private rooms of the families were completely open and held in only by pillars, letting light travel into the home. He also noticed that every single building had an Astronomy Tower, or at least a place that could easily be used for that kind of purpose. The whole city was built up to the banks of a river. Harry wondered where the sylvan world stopped. But all those thoughts were lost as he saw where Danu was taking him.
The palace was huge, in every sense of the word. You might call it a castle, but it looked so much more open and inviting than even Hogwarts, and Harry could see several sylphs milling around through the large windows of the rooms. There were towers, Harry wondered where they all led. If he were to live here, it would take him forever to find his way around. However, he didn't have time to stand and gawk at it; Danu was at the gates already and knocking for entrance.
"Ah! Danu! I trust you have Harry?" A guard asked.
"Yes, of course I do. He's right here." Danu motioned for Harry not to be so timid and step up to the guard.
"Honored to meet you at last, Potter, delighted, now, Eldrid is waiting for you in her office." The guard addressed Danu and Harry together.
"Thank you." Danu quickly led Harry through the castle, not giving him a chance to really look around in amazement at the artifacts and furniture and so on and so forth.
When they reached an oval door at the very center of the palace, Harry knew they were there, as all of the other doors were circular. Danu stepped up to the large brass knocker and knocked three times.
"Come in, Danu, Potter." Called a deep voice that sounded old and wise.
Danu opened the door, and Harry saw that there were two seats in front of the desk where Eldrid sat. They were made out of a rich mahogany wood and seemed to be ancient. Eldrid was of an extremely dark complexion, like Dean, his African-English roommate had been. Harry looked at Eldrid's long hair, all braided in certain designs around the face, but also swept back into a colorful blue scarf with gold patterns all over it. Eldrid didn't look old, but Harry knew the sylph was ancient beyond Dumbldedore's years.
"Well, take a seat!" Eldrid spoke directly to Harry for the first time. Harry quickly sank into one of the old, ancient chairs, and let Ciaran rest on the arm. "I'm sure you have questions, I always did when I was your age." Harry relaxed under the warm smile he received here. "And I will get them answered in due time. Just let me tell you a story."
"Fireball?" Eldrid asked both Harry and Danu, and both accepted. The hard candy burst in Harry's mouth with a flavor he was unfamiliar with, but they were good, cooling and fiery at the same time.
"These are good. They're different." Harry said, looking down at his lap.
"I've always thought so. But on with the story that I was going to tell you.
"I can sense that you already know that sylphs can read each other and mortals so closely that some wonder if they can read minds. So I won't get into that. We have a lot to cover, and very little time in which to do it.
"Anyway, when your father was young, he had always been so fascinated with the people up there-" Eldrid made a gesture with his hand toward the ceiling. "that he knew one day he'd live there himself. Then he took it a step further. He had a premonition, a premonition that he'd have you.
"It will come as no surprise that at first we didn't believe him when he said he'd sire our next monarch. It was crazy. We were in no need of another monarch; the Order was full. But then, our monarch back then had a premonition that you'd come around as well. Both premonitions had said that half of your blood must be a witch's. Your father knew so much, and we were reluctant, but soon other things he had predicted, like some of Voldemort's attacks on witches and wizards came true. So, we decided to trust him, and we tested him. I won't go into full detail now, but he passed every one of our tests.
"When he was thirteen, we deemed that he was ready for the Open World, he could speak English perfectly, if not with a slight accent, and he knew all about the culture he'd be joining. He also knew, as well, of the threat of Lord Voldemort.
"I know that you've been deeply involved with Lord Voldemort, and that you know that Lord Voldemort was trying to conquer death. He was killing sylphs at an alarming rate, jealous at our near immortality. None of us really knew how these attacks occurred, but the last person to leave the sylvan Under World before Danu was your father, and the attacks on the sylphs stopped. That was why James had to be so careful, if he was found out, it would mean a sure death. But there was one more dangerous thing about Voldemort.
"He had stirred up the Tormentors. We had long thought we had banished them to the core of the earth, but the hatred and killings he caused stirred them to break free."
"Are they like Dementors?" Harry asked, confused as to why they were important.
"Yes, and no. They lived off the same principal, that of stealing souls, but they could kill whenever they wished to, just by becoming completely still, and they'd kill everything within a mile radius. They represent pure evil at its worst; indifference."
Harry contemplated this thought for a while, and Eldrid continued.
"James was smart. Almost as smart as you appear to be. He knew the Tormentors were back, but no one listened to him. His job was to find your mother and make you. Actually, when you think about it, quite a depressing job in life, but it was his task, and, as you are sitting in front of me, he did it well.
"Your mother was extremely intelligent as well, but she made one slip-up; she made Voldemort angry when she published her books. Somehow, via Peter Pettigrew, Voldemort found out that you and James were sylvan, and he tried to kill you. He killed your father for the study he was doing; he killed your mother to get to you." Harry looked confused, but then realized something. "Yes, Harry, he wasn't going to kill her so he would be able to watch her soul die with the losses of you and her love, James.
"Voldemort was shallow enough not to realize that you were the next sylvan monarch. He only wanted to kill you for the study. But, as you have figured out, you are the next ruler of our people. Possibly the greatest there ever will be."
Harry took a moment to quietly contemplate his new role in life. Monarch? Ruler? Order? What?
"I'm sorry, but I don't know what you mean by monarch, and the Order, and all of that stuff, and I'm sure that if I did, it would all make perfect sense. Could you please explain it?" Harry asked, an imploring look on his face.
"Oh, yes, of course. Well, the monarch is the person who rules the sylphs. They are Seen to come, and are known who they are before their birth. No, they aren't all of the same family, your father was one of the poorer sylphs there was. Monarchs are usually raised by their parents in the sylph world, but in your case, that could never happen. Your mother was a witch, and we were forbidding your father to return here, for the sake of our world. Anyway, we would have had problems if it were only a monarch that was leading us, so we came up with the Order, in your lands they would call them advisors, who take over if an issue pops up and the monarch is gone. That's the basics, you'll learn more in the future." explained Eldrid.
"I know that I should just trust you, but you're so young, and our current monarch just died, leaving you here in their place. Don't do anything without the consent of the Order unless it won't directly affect anyone but yourself. You have a lot to learn in the next couple of years. Your role is vital, extremely important, for it was said that you'd be the one to save our dying race. Our entire existance rests on your shoulders, and if you make any mistakes, lives will be to pay." Eldrid said this in an extremely worried tone, warning Harry.
Harry sat there, the weight of an entire civilization on his shoulders. He heard Danu move a little in the chair next to him, and lifted his head to look at her.
"Your eyes! Oh, Eldrid, look at his eyes!" He exclaimed, pointing at Harry.
"Ah, yes, I was wondering . . . Harry, your eyes don't have the same abilities that sylvan eyes do, but ever since you turned five you were supposed to have an ointment put on the lids, but you didn't, so, if we can't heal them soon, you might be blind." Eldrid said this like it was no big deal. "Here, I have some here, if you do this ritual every night until I say you can stop, they will heal." Eldrid handed him a bottle, ornately carved with vines and branches.
"Oh, and-" Harry started, but never got the chance to finish.
"Ah, yes, the witches and wizards couldn't see it because you unconsciously used glamour on your eyes to make them look normal, but, as I can see, you overdid it a little and your eyes are too bright." Eldrid felt his face crinkle in amusement, something that rarely happened, if ever.
"But, I don't think Harry sounds right. No, it doesn't. Do you think it does, Danu?" Eldrid addressed Danu for the first time since the explanation started. Danu shook his head quietly, meekly.
"Your parents gave you a middle name that is rather fitting, don't you think, Danu?"
"Wh-what was it, Eldrid?" Danu was obviously not used to being addressed by Eldrid.
"Liamh(2)." Eldrid let the name roll off her tongue. He looked to Harry. "What do you think of that? If you don't want to take that name, you can always choose another."
Harry nodded his head, then said, "Liamh it is, then."
"All right, then. Danu, show Liamh to his room, he'll need to be awake tomorrow when you take him to buy his clothes and other such stuff."
"Right, come on, Liamh." Danu bowed her head slightly to Eldrid, and Liamh did the same as he walked out.
Liamh was so tired, he didn't even have the strength to look around as he was being led to his chambers. When Danu opened a large circular door, Liamh peered in and saw a well-furnished suite of rooms. Danu gently pushed him in and closed the door behind him, and Liamh was left alone to his own devices. He raised one hand to his face, as if seeing if he was still there.
"Liamh." He whispered to himself, trying out the name on his tongue.
A/N: I do believe that's the worst chapter I've ever written! It just kept getting longer and longer as I had to keep writing and writing the explanation. So much for being about the same size as the last one.
I don't feel overly confident about this chapter, but I'd really like it if you'd review for me. Pleeeeaaaassse review for me! If I don't get reviews, sometimes I wonder if anyone actually reads this.
(1)-Inspiration from Bridget Jones's Diary! (That movie rocks!)
(2)-Liamh-lee-AHV
