Chapter Four – The Ritual and the Dream

"Sorry, but I'd like you to leave me alone now," said Harry at about eight o' clock. "I'd like to read about the ritual."

"Good luck," said Fred and George and indicated their crossed fingers. Then they Disapparated. Bill, Mr and Mrs Weasley also wished him luck and left.

Ginny looked pale. "Everything's gonna be alright," she murmured.

Remus put an arm around her. "We cannot but hope," he said. "Harry must go through all this alone. We can't help him."

"Harry," said Ron solemnly, "we'll be waiting here until you come back, and if it takes all night."

"It probably will," said Hermione wryly. "Think of Kingsley - he first did the ritual and then had this dream. But honestly, Harry, we'll be here tomorrow. Don't keep us waiting too long, will you?"

"Wish me luck," whispered Harry. The closer the ritual drew, the weaker he felt. What if Yehudiah would not listen? What if Hermione and Remus were wrong and Sirius had died rightfully? What if...

Harry stopped the thought. He would not yield, not now, not when there was even the slightest chance that it would work.

"Good luck, Harry," said Remus and gave him a short, one-armed hug. Ginny and Hermione both kissed him on the cheek, and Ron, who looked very pale, gave him a slap on the shoulder.

"Do well, mate," he said in a hoarse voice. "Just don't spoil it..."

Harry offered him a faint grin and left the room.

When he entered his own room, the first thing he saw was the book that lay on his bed. He went there, reluctantly stretched his hands out and took it. Then he opened it and flipped through the pages in order to find Yehudiah. Names he had somewhere heard and long forgotten met his eye: Michael... Gabriel... Raphael... Uriel... Hagiel... Cassiel... Azrael... Tzaphkiel... Zadkiel... Metatron... Lailah... Asariel... Camael... Yehudiah!

Harry's fingers and lips started to tremble as he sat down and began to read the passage about Yehudiah:

The loss of a partner, a relative or a close friend can be a very painful experience. At first, we feel a deep loss, because a part of our lives has become past. Did we do and say everything we could? Did that person know how much we loved him or her? Did we love him enough? When someone dies "before his time", through an accident or a disease, then life seems to be extremely cruel and pointless. The bereaved may even start to doubt the existence of God, as if death was the proof of the pointlessness of life. It is important to remember that there are mysteries in life we cannot understand. Wenn prayers or poems cannot close the wounds of grief, we may find consolation in the old lore of the immortality of the soul. The angel Yehudiah can be called up to 49 days after the person's death - this is as long as it can take a soul to reach its destination - and be asked to grant a safe journey to that soul. Yehudiah can also ease the pain, and there are some cases in which the person who called the angel swore that he saw the person he lost again. The ritual to call Yehudiah is the following:

Take a bath. Add some salt to the bathwater; salt cleanses body and soul. Dry with a white towel and rub on some lily oil, then put on a white dressing gown. Light a white candle to your right side and a black one to your left. Place three white lilies in front of you and burn some incense next to it. All the time think of the person you lost. Give in to the grief you feel and let it all out. Then take a piece of clean, white paper and write the name of the person you're grieving over on it with a quill or feather. Use black ink. If you write in Greek letters, Yehudiah will be very pleased and be more likely to show himself. Burn half of the paper in the flame of the black candle and half of it in the white, then throw the ashes into where you burn the incense. Close your eyes and visualize the person you lost. Think of him or her so hard that you think you feel him standing next to you. Then whisper Yehudiah's name three times, then say it three times in a normal voice and then whisper it three times again. When you now open your eyes, you will find a beautiful, shining figure standing where you had imagined your lost friend to be standing. Bow to him and say, "I bid thee welcome, Yehudiah, Angel of Sorrow and Grief." Then you can ask him what you want. He might not answer, but you will know what he tells you. When you have no questions left, bow again and say, "I thank thee, Yehudiah, Angel of Sorrow and Grief." He will then fade away. You will feel better now. Let the candles burn down and throw the rest, together with the lilies and the incense, into a flowing water, preferably a river, on the next morning at dawn.

Harry put the book down. This all sounded mighty superstitious to him. He doubted that every muggle who had ever tried this had seen the angel appear. The whole book seemed very esoterical, and Harry had never had a nerve for that. But it had helped Kingsley, so it would have to help him, too - even if it was a muggle book.

Harry got up and left the room. He hoped that he wouldn't meet his friends in the corridor, as he was keen to start the ritual, and he was lucky. He found Mrs Weasley alone in the kitchen and asked her if she had all the things he needed in the house. Mrs Weasley nodded, left the kitchen and returned five minutes later with two candles, three white lilies and a small bowl of incense.

"Had to Summon that one from the church in Ottery St. Catchpole," she said and winked. "I hope no muggle saw it flying across the village."

She gave him the things. Harry was already on his way out of the kitchen when he turned around again.

"Uhm... Mrs Weasley... I'm a bit ashamed to ask that... do you happen to have a white dressing gown?"

Mrs Weasley couldn't help laughing. "I'll find one, no problem, dear," she said and disappeared again. When she returned, she had a white dressing gown over her arm. "It's freshly washed," she said. "It's not new; I think it's Bill's old one..."

"That'll do." Harry thanked her and went upstairs again. He put everything into place, then he took a white towel out of his trunk and went into the bathroom. He took the bath and did everything as instructed. When he returned to his room, he lighted the candles, burned the incense and sat down between the candles. All the time, he had images of Sirius in his head, and his eyes filled with tears again. He tried to persuade himself that this came from the smoke and the incense, but he knew that it did not. But what had it said in the book... Give in to the grief and let it all out...

Harry wrote down the name Sirius Black on a piece of paper (he did not know the Greek alphabet, but he hoped Yehudiah would also be able to read the good old Latin one). A tear dropped down on his handwriting and blurred Sirius's first name, but Harry did not care. He burned the paper in the two candles and flung the rest to the incense. Then he closed his eyes, took a deep breath and started reciting: "Yehudiah... Yehudiah... Yehudiah..."

Suddenly a very odd feeling rose in him. He felt a draft, although there was no window open in his room, and the door was shut - and locked - as well. Yet there was a warm wind in the room that touched him gently, and all of a sudden, Harry felt consolation.

"Yehudiah... Yehudiah... Yehudiah..."

He felt as if someone was watching him, but it was not alarming or uncomfortable. He thought he could feel Sirius standing beside him and half expected that he would lay his hand on Harry's shoulder in his usual, casual way.

"Yehudiah... Yehudiah... Yehudiah."

Harry did not dare open his eyes. He was afraid of what he might see... if there was an angel or Sirius or no one... but there was someone... he knew it, he just knew it.

Harry opened his eyes and saw -

No one. Not on his left side and not on his right side. He must have imagined it after feeling that draft that could have come from anywhere, and his imagination had done the rest. All these impressions, the feeling of being watched, the feeling that Sirius was really near, that Yehudiah had heard him and had been about to materialize (or whatever you called that when an angel appeared)... Harry was so disappointed that he wanted to scream. But, oddly enough, he did not feel like screaming. Every time he tried to think, 'All in vain, he won't come back,' he couldn't. Although there was no angel to tell him where to go, he felt consoled and relaxed.

Suddenly Harry noticed something else, and his heart jumped. Something had changed. There had been three white lilies next to the incense, just as described in the book. But now there were only two. One of the flowers had just disappeared. Harry looked around, because he thought that the draft might have blown the third one across the room, but there was not a trace of it. It was gone.

Harry rubbed his eyes. His eyelids suddenly felt as if they were made of lead. He was so tired that he could hardly get up and blow the candles out. The incense was still burning, and Harry extinguished it with a few drops of water that he took from Hedwig's drinking bowl. Then, without taking off the dressing gown, he lay down on the bed, and a few seconds later, he was fast asleep.

xxx

Harry walked across a meadow that seemed vaguely familiar. After a few seconds he recognized it as the meadow in the Forbidden Forest where Hagrid sometimes taught them Care of Magical Creatures. His feet moved swiftly over the grass, barely touching it, and Harry felt the raindrops between his toes. The sun was setting in the West, painting the most beautiful colors in the sky Harry had ever seen. He walked towards that light, further and further westward. In the distance, he saw a figure approaching. It looked like a tall man, clad in white, who seemed to be shining from the inside in a warm, white light that was incredibly bright but so soft that it did not blind Harry's eyes. As he came closer, Harry noticed that he was not walking but floating a few inches above the ground. The grass and the flowers moved when he passed them; to Harry it almost seemed like they were bowing before him. Harry stood still and watched the figure come nearer and nearer. He now saw that it was a tall and slim yet strong man in white robes. He had a handsome face, dominated by a pair of warm, dark blue eyes, and long hair of a color Harry could not quite make out. Depending on how the light shone on it, it seemed sometimes blonde, sometimes brown. The light that surrounded him was brightest behind his shoulders, and when Harry concentrated on that area, he thought he could see something outlined in that light... maybe a pair of wings...

The figure reached Harry and stopped. Harry looked at him, and the angel calmly met his gaze. Without any doubts, Harry knew that this was Yehudiah. He tried to remember the words he was supposed to say, but his mind was completely empty. All he could do was bow his head, which he did.

When he looked up again, Yehudiah smiled. It was a very kind and tender smile that wiped Harry's nervosity away. Yehudiah turned his beautiful eyes down on Harry and began to speak, or at least Harry thought so. He saw Yehudiah's lips move, but he seemed to hear the words directly in his head. He did not understand the language the angel used, nor could he describe what his voice sounded like. But at the same time, he knew what Yehudiah was telling him. Words of consolation, words of hope... and something else as well. Harry could virtually feel that some kind of knowledge filled him, knowledge of where to go and what to do as soon as he woke up the next morning.

Yehudiah stopped speaking and turned his head. Harry followed his gaze and saw a black horse with two wings step out of the shadows: a Thestral. It neighed and trotted over to him. When it passed Yehudiah, it bowed its head as well. Then it stood beside Harry and touched his shoulder with its nose. Harry automatically raised his hand to stroke its skeleton-like nose. He noticed that the Thestral's eyes were dark and warm; different from what he remembered about these creatures.

Yehudiah smiled again and gently touched Harry's forehead with his hand. Harry felt a feeling of warmth and safety overwhelm him, such a touch of love that his heart threatened to burst. Then his senses vanished and he sank back into the warm, black depth of dreamless sleep.