Chapter Seven—Renaissance
What was Link like?
The History of Hyrule had given an impersonal, professional summary of his life, addressing the death of his mother, his awakening of the Sages, and both of his marriages in the same expository tone. But who was the Link who had been best friends with Saria? Who was the Link who was in love with Malon? He must have had children; who was Link the father? What did his voice and his laugh sound like? How did he behave and carry himself? The most Harry had really seen of him was silent, solemn moving images in a textbook—but in a dream, Harry had seen a young boy dance all night long and fall asleep on the forest floor, gazing up at the stars. He had heard Link's childish speech and felt Link's childish gait as though they were his own.
The sunlight spilling across the open Astronomy textbook in Harry's lap was turning orange. He was sitting in the common room by the grate, though it was empty at the moment, next to Ron and Hermione. The former was trying to distract his girlfriend by playing with her hair and trying to kiss her hand whenever she attempted (half-heartedly and still smiling) to swat him away. But Harry's attention was on the fact that the sunlight over the images of the planets was darkening and dying. It was setting. The moon was rising. Finally…
Abruptly, Harry grabbed his textbook and backpack and shoved the former into the latter before swinging it over his shoulder and heading up to his dormitory.
"Hey, Harry, where are you going?" asked Ron, pausing momentarily in distracting Hermione when Harry returned to the common room seconds later. She looked up as well, apparently more thrown by the fact that her boyfriend had stopped being annoying than anything else.
"Meet Dumbledore," Harry answered briefly. He strode out of the room before either one could ask more questions, with the determination of someone who was finally going to achieve what he had been waiting for…even though he had no idea what he was heading towards.
The castle was, unsurprisingly, deserted as Harry made his way to the Entrance Hall. Yet walking outside still felt like entering peace. It felt more alive than the indoors, probably because of the brightness of the full moon. In a way, Harry could understand why this night would bring the wolf out in Lupin; it could bring out the animal in anyone, like the pull of the tide.
"You're here already, Harry. Good. I had worried you might forget."
Dumbledore had arrived, and stood in the doorway of the castle. The first thing Harry noticed was that he was dressed differently. He had never taken notice of Dumbledore's wardrobe before, but the change was conspicuous; the Headmaster was wearing a simple robe of blue velvet. Behind him floated a cauldron and a trunk, and Harry could see the hilt of the Master Sword protruding from its open lid.
"Of course I wasn't going to forget," Harry said. "What's going on, Professor?"
"I will explain everything. But first, take this."
He held out his arm, and Harry saw a substantial length of green velvet draped over it. Being a Gryffindor, Harry was naturally repulsed by the colour at once. Dumbledore must have seen the look on his face, because he explained, "Green is the colour of the Triforce of Courage. Oddly, red is the colour of the Triforce of Power."
"And blue is the colour of the Triforce of Wisdom?" Harry guessed, based on the colour of Dumbledore's robes. That one fit, he supposed, since Ravenclaws were known for their intelligence, but the other two seemed backwards.
"That's right. So I shall wear blue tonight, and you should be wearing green."
Harry obeyed, slipping off the plain black robe that he wore over his school clothes and pulling the heavy green one over his shoulders in its place. It was rather long, and he wasn't sure if he felt like an ancient druid about to embark on a legendary journey, or simply a sixteen-year-old boy in robes too big for him.
"Take this as well," Dumbledore added, holding out the ruby-studded Master Sword. It looked heavy in his hands, and Harry was surprised at how light and comfortable it felt in his own grip, like it belonged there. He hadn't noticed that when he'd been using it to fight for his life. Now that he thought about it, it was very strange that he had been able to think clearly enough to wield such a deadly weapon when he had thought he was about to die. It was like instinct. Like holding this sword was something he was born to do.
Which, he now realized as he looked at his reflection in the shining blade, it was.
"Are we ready?" he asked, feeling he ought to say something.
Dumbledore looked at Harry with his deep, blue eyes a moment longer before answering, "Yes."
He began to walk down the stairs, followed by the floating cauldron and trunk, and Harry followed, "Sir… What exactly are we doing?" he asked.
"Oh, yes," Dumbledore said. "I haven't yet told you. Though I suspect you can probably guess?"
He looked at Harry for confirmation, and received a blank look.
"I see. In that case, I'll start at the beginning. As McGonagall may have told you, Voldemort was not the sole figure behind the mysterious death of that Muggle in Ireland."
"Yes," Harry said, finding his mouth suddenly dry. "She mentioned… Ganondorf… That Voldemort wants to ally himself with Ganon."
Dumbledore nodded slowly.
"But how can he do that, sir?" Harry blurted. The question had been burning at his mind, and he wanted an answer. "Ganon's sealed away. How can Voldemort…?" He let his voice fade away, the silence finishing the question for him.
"I would think the answer to that would be obvious, Harry," Dumbledore said softly, glancing in Harry's direction. "He must simply break the seal."
Harry felt as if he had been punched in the stomach. "He can do that?"
"Are there seven Sages in power?"
"No…"
"Then yes, as the heir to Ganondorf's legacy, he can. However, he did it in a way I must admit I was not expecting, though I can guess now why he chose the route he did.
"You see, Harry, there are two ways to bring back those suspended in time—either as bodies, or as souls. A body can come back at any time, and the spell to do so is much simpler. However, bodies are weaker. They are not immortal and their magic is not as strong. Physically, however, they are much stronger than the alternative, which would be the soul.
"Souls, or spirits, are immortal, far more resilient and enduring than bodies. Ghosts are souls, for example, but not complete ones. Pure souls are so close to the divine world that their magical powers are truly remarkable. Even Muggle souls have natural magic, but their material bodies inhibit it while they live. However, souls are physically weaker, and more difficult to bring across dimensions, as they are controlled by natural forces, especially the moon. This is most obvious in lycanthropy, but all humans feel the tug of the earth and the celestial bodies upon their souls."
"I thought…" Harry began uncertainly. Trying again, he explained, "Last year, when Firenze taught Divination, he said that little human things like that weren't important to the planets."
"It is true that minor daily events in human life are insignificant to the universe," Dumbledore agreed. "But the changes of the universe are significant to us. Besides that, the great movement of the essence of every sentient being is hardly a little human event."
He paused to smile at Harry before continuing.
"I believe that Lord Voldemort chose to raise Ganondorf's body instead of his spirit, hurrying his plans because of the knowledge you have gained about Hyrule. In fact, I would go so far as to say that I know it, based on the evidence I have seen. But we will find out tonight if I am correct…if our spell works…"
And Harry realized what they were going to do.
"We're bringing back Link and Queen Zelda?" he breathed. "Their souls?"
"Yes," Dumbledore agreed, gazing up at the full moon. "Exactly as they were at the moment they fulfilled their destinies, when they defeated Ganondorf for the first time and sealed him away. Now that Voldemort has begun the process that will end in Ganon's return, so can we summon Link and Queen Zelda. They will be able to use their powerful magic against Ganondorf. Queen Zelda, while she did have some training in hands-on combat, was better known for her incredible magical capacity. She was gifted in all regions of witchcraft when she was alive, honing her inborn talents to perfection, and as a soul, she will have powers close to those of a goddess. Link, while he may have been just as magically powerful, does not have such refined skills in that area. His magic is largely combative, self-taught and fluctuating. He, however, will have the Master Sword at his side, and his skill with that weapon and others is unrivalled.
"With any luck, this will be the last time they will walk the mortal earth. It has been over nine thousand years since their journey began. It is time for them to return to the arms of the goddesses, and rest."
There was a long silence as they continued to walk along the grounds, passing the shore of the lake. Though it seemed too reverent a moment to break, Harry did still have one question.
"Professor Dumbledore, sir… I was wondering, what exactly are we going to be doing?"
He thought he heard the Headmaster give a slight sigh before answering.
"I am sure that when I describe for you the procedure of the spell," he began, "it will evoke some explicit memories for you. I am equally sure that they are memories you would rather never have earned, and may cause you to distrust this spell. I ask, however, that you trust me."
Here he looked to Harry for confirmation.
"I trust you," said Harry immediately. "I've never… I mean, I know you're one person I can always trust."
Dumbledore's weary sigh was noticeable this time, though he looked straight ahead of him.
"As much as I appreciate your endorsement, I must remind you that I am a mere mortal, capable of mistakes and…errors in judgment."
These words caused an unpleasant jolt in Harry's stomach; it was one of Dumbledore's errors in judgment that had, in large part, cost Sirius his life.
Rephrasing his statement, Harry said carefully, "I trust that…even though you might sometimes be wrong, it's usually the safest bet to follow your plans."
"Thank you, Harry. Now, to the spell itself…
"Each resurrection—they aren't really resurrections, of course, since the people in question aren't dead, but we'll use the term for simplicity's sake—each one will require the base potion in this cauldron, and three other items: one from their identities, one from their destinies, and one from their families. The first two are simple to procure. For Queen Zelda's identity, I have a sample of a powder used by the Sheikah people to perform their magic. She was not a Sheikah herself, but was well-trained in their arts. You read about the years she spent in disguise, of course? Helping Link on his quest to defeat Ganondorf?"
Harry nodded. To escape Ganon's rule, the princess had lived under the identity of Sheik, a young man of a race called the Sheikah, the shadow people, a mysterious culture that had already been dying out at that time. Zelda's nursemaid, Impa, was a real Sheikah, and instructed her in their ways. For the seven years in which Link had been sealed away, and for the majority of his journey, she had spent every moment in this guise, a warrior, not even revealing herself to him. Harry could understand why anything to do with the Sheikah people would be very close to Zelda's heart.
"And for Link's, I have obtained from one of the greenhouses a small sprout from a genus of tree native to his home forest. Deku Trees are very rare these days, I believe there are less than one hundred left in the world, but Hogwarts was recently lucky enough to acquire a few seeds… But that is another matter." He gave a small laugh before continuing.
"For their destinies, I think you can guess that the Master Sword will serve for Link. Queen Zelda's artefact is this."
From the neck of his robes, Dumbledore pulled out a pendant on a golden chain. It looked like a simple upside-down V at first glance, but as Harry stared at it, he found that the gold it was made of did seem to be much more unnaturally bright than anything he had ever seen before, and it was somehow mesmerizing…
"This is a piece of the Triforce of Wisdom itself," Dumbledore said. "The Triforce of Courage was divided into eight pieces, and the last record we have of them is the tale of how Link IV, Hero of Winds, gathered them from the bottom of the ocean and united them within himself. After the quest, he is reported to have lost them again, and since then, no one has seen them. I personally believe that they remain united, within the spirit of the first True Hero, and will find his heir when the time comes for them to move on to the next generation."
He didn't look directly at Harry as he spoke, but his meaning was clear.
"The Triforce of Wisdom, however, was only divided into two pieces. One, like the Triforce of Courage, has not been seen since Hyrule sank beneath the waves. But the other had been in Tetra's family for generations, and so she retained it, passing it on through her family. Godric Gryffindor possessed it, and gave it to his daughter. So it has come to me.
"So far, this spell doesn't sound like anything you would have any reason to be uneasy about, does it, Harry?" Dumbledore asked.
"No," Harry agreed, shaking his head.
Dumbledore nodded thoughtfully. "It is the third item that I… Well, I will let you judge. You and I are their families, Harry. We must contribute our blood."
As he spoke, they arrived at their destination—the edge of a graveyard on the far side of the castle, where students rarely ventured. Harry himself had only glimpsed it in passing through castle windows, but had never been here; few people had, since there was nothing in this area worth visiting.
Instantly, he understood Dumbledore's warning.
But this was not, he told himself, the magic of Death Eaters bringing back the leader they held in god-like esteem to continue his quest for world domination and genocide. This was Dumbledore. This was the Triforce. Ignoring the knot that had appeared sickeningly in his stomach, he simply nodded shortly. He would have liked to say something, but his voice was firmly lodged in his throat.
"First, I will raise Queen Zelda," Dumbledore went on, half looking at Harry as he put his attention to the task at hand. The small, dark shapes of the tombstones, illuminated by the moon to look like nocturnal demons rising from unholy sleep, were strewn before them. Yet, somehow, as he looked at them closely, Harry found no malice in their disturbing shapes; instead, he found himself almost pitying those who were lost to this world and had their final resting places in the forgotten and untamed grass of Hogwarts Castle. Who were they?
With a wave of his wand, Dumbledore lowered the cauldron and trunk softly to the ground. "You can watch," he explained, "and copy me. Would you light a fire beneath that cauldron, please?"
As Dumbledore opened the trunk and began to lay out the articles within, Harry placed the Master Sword among them. He then pointed his wand at the base of the cauldron and said, "Lacarnum inflamarae." Pale green flames shot from the end of his wand and began to crackle quietly, not burning the grass around them. Peering into the large, pewter bowl, Harry saw what looked like nothing more than water, rippling gently from its recent movement; he was sure, however, that it was a highly complex potion.
"Take this, Harry," Dumbledore was saying now, handing him a piece of parchment. "These are the words to the spell which you will say. Now, stand back."
Harry obeyed, stepping away from the area where Dumbledore stood. The Headmaster, now looking like something far greater than simply a professor, much more like the epically powerful wizard he was, stood before the cauldron. It was already beginning to hiss and bubble.
Dumbledore held up a small, purple velvet pouch. "Essence of shadow, you will renew your caster."
He upturned the pouch, and out of it flowed a pure white powder, as brightly shining as snow and as light and fine as dust. The potion in the cauldron turned a shade of violent blue that Harry had only seen once before, and he found his heart beating quickly against his ribs.
"Gold of wisdom, you will revive your possessor."
He slipped the Triforce pendant off of his neck and held it out briefly before dropping it, shimmering in the air, into the cauldron. Harry didn't hear it hit the bottom, but he knew what was coming next, and sure enough, the potion turned a blood red that illuminated the night around it.
Now Dumbledore stood poised with a dagger in his hand, its tip looking particularly deadly in the light of the full moon. Harry's own blood was pounding in his ears dizzyingly; he still had a small scar in the crook of his right arm where Wormtail had cut into him a year and a half before…
"Blood of the descendant, you will resurrect your ancestor."
Without so much as flinching, Dumbledore slid the sleeve of his robe up past the elbow and brought the knife towards where the blood flowed close to his skin, pale and ghostly—
Harry closed his eyes, and heard nothing until the potion hissed furiously and turned blinding white against his eyelids, backlit so they glowed. It was all so horrifyingly familiar—but he had promised to trust Dumbledore—he did trust Dumbledore—
He looked.
The potion was spitting countless white-hot, brilliant sparks, like thousands of stars adding themselves to the night sky. Dumbledore had backed away slightly, but he was watching the process unblinkingly. Everything was inky blackness except for him, standing there as an eerily lit silhouette, and the Master Sword, near Harry's feet, catching the light on its mirror-like blade so that it emitted a dancing internal luminosity of its own.
Smoke began to billow from the cauldron, thick clouds of shimmering, bright steam that reached out to embrace and smother the world. Squinting through it, Harry saw what was happening at the centre of all the magic.
A figure was forming in the cauldron; the sparks were swirling in combination with the steam to form a body. The shape was becoming more defined, more solid, beginning even to take on colour…
The light of the potion was fading, its sparks dying, but the figure remained. In the absence of the distracting pyrotechnics, Harry could see her more clearly.
She was tall and slender, her skin pale and smooth, her hair gently hanging in waves and curls of silky blonde halfway down her back, her eyes bright blue and deep; her dress was in shades of pink silk, adorned with insignias of power and wealth, but its gold details around the shoulders and waist were unusually suggestive of armour and physical strength; she wore golden earrings in the shape of the Triforce, and atop her head sat an elaborately worked and fitted crown of gold set with a large ruby that made her prestigious position unquestionable. She looked like an idealized image of a goddess from classical mythology, beautiful in the truest sense of the word, and somehow unreal; Harry realized presently that this was because she was very slightly translucent, and almost emitted a pale glow. Only one thing about her was fully solid—around her neck hung the Triforce of Wisdom pendant on its gold chain.
"Queen Zelda," Dumbledore said, and she turned her head to face him. "Welcome to the new world. I am your blood descendant. My name is Albus Dumbledore."
The queen's face remained impassive has he spoke, and she blinked calmly. Harry found himself wondering if she had understood a word of this; what if the Hylians' souls didn't speak English? Then, to his surprise and relief, she answered.
"Albus Dumbledore… And you have brought me here?"
Her voice was delicately feminine and cultured, but with very clear undertones of strength and authority, just like her attire. She looked every bit the part of a legendary monarch, and moved with grace as she stepped out of the cauldron. Harry remembered reading in The History of Hyrule that Link had had to rescue her, but somehow she didn't appear in any way to be the type of person that would ever have needed rescuing. Being disguised for seven years as a Sheikah man seemed more like her style.
Zelda was now looking around the grounds curiously. "Where are we?" she asked, gazing over the graveyard. "And where's Link?"
"Where we are will take time to explain," Dumbledore told her as she continued to look around; Harry saw her eyes lock onto the massive castle of Hogwarts. She looked unimpressed, however, since of course she had grown up in such a place. It was just another building to her. "As for Link, he is not yet here, but we are about to bring him as we raised you. Allow me to introduce the young man of Link's bloodline." He nodded towards Harry.
Zelda cast her imperial gaze on him and looked him over thoughtfully. She had the same penetrating eyes that Dumbledore did. After taking Harry in, she smiled, looking far more warm and personable when she did so.
"What's your name?" she asked, stepping towards him, and this time Harry heard the youth in her voice. From closer up, he saw that she couldn't have been older than eighteen, if even that. His own age, really, even if she didn't act it.
"I'm Harry Potter," he answered, trying to smile back. It was difficult, though. She just seemed so completely flawless, almost divine, that it was intimidating. He felt as though he should bow or shake her hand, but wasn't sure which, so he simply shifted uneasily on the spot.
Zelda reached out one of her own hands and said, "Hi. Nice to meet you, Harry. You probably already know, but I'm Queen Zelda Hyrule I. Just call me Zelda."
"Okay," said Harry, pleasantly surprised that she could so easily switch to being a more informal teenager. Her handshake felt like a normal human's, not insubstantial at all; in fact, it was very firm, more athletic than he would have expected, and didn't quite fit into the rest of her elegant image. There was definitely more to her than history had ever let on.
"Well, then, Harry," said Dumbledore, "I think you have a job to do."
"Right," agreed Harry, looking down at the paper in his hand and then folding it into his pocket. "Is everything ready?"
Dumbledore nodded. Harry picked up the Master Sword from the grass in his right hand, and accepted with his left the small Deku Tree the Headmaster offered him. Approaching the cauldron, Harry held this out and spoke the first words he had read on the parchment.
"Limb of the homeland, you will renew your native."
He dropped it into the potion, heart pounding, and watched the liquid turn blue. Everything was silent, but he hardly noticed. He could only hear the rhythm of his own wordless thoughts.
"Weapon of destiny, you will renew your warrior."
He thought he heard Zelda let out a soft gasp as he raised the Master Sword and let it slip into the potion, which instantly became vivid scarlet. He then lifted from the grass the dagger which Dumbledore had used. His blood was barely visible on the tip, and Harry wiped it clean against his robe before he spoke again.
Shaking, he extended his left arm over the cauldron, pulling back the fabric of his robe, and managed to say, "Blood of the descendant, you will resurrect your ancestor."
He bit his lip to keep himself quiet as he lay the blade next to one of his own blue veins, full of blood… it was like those detentions where he had been forced to carve words into his own skin… how had Wormtail managed to sever his own hand?
In one quick, short, painful move, Harry jerked the edge of the dagger across his skin. Blood welled up instantly, and he watched as the first drop left a bright streak on his skin, suspended itself momentarily, then fell into the potion that began to hiss and spit like acid. He stepped back right away, letting his robes fall over the small cut before clutching it tightly. The worst was over, and the initial shock of pain was gone.
Harry avoided looking at the potion as it underwent the same sparking fury that had brought Zelda here, instead turning his attention to his arm. The injury was, of course, minor enough that it could hardly be called such a thing, but he just wanted something to focus on. Next to him, he could hear Zelda breathing audibly in apparent fear and anticipation. This more than anything else made him dare to look up.
Sure enough, a new figure was forming; sparks and light and steam were gathering into a shape that was distinctly different from Zelda's. As the light faded away a second time, Harry saw a young man roughly the same height as the queen, his vastly blue and deep eyes identical to hers, his hair the same pure blond. He was built of solid muscle, dressed not in the armour of medieval knights but a basic green tunic over a full-length white bodysuit, with only gauntlets of gold protecting his forearms; other than those and the simple shield across his back, he apparently relied on his own skill to keep from getting himself killed in battle. His body looked tanned and weathered, as though he spent his days doing physical work outdoors, and his simple clothes, the tunic and matching hat, and brown leather boots that buckled just below the knee, reflected this. The only non-functional details of his appearance were the small silver hoop earrings in each of his ears, which didn't look at all out of place; he was otherwise such the definitive image of masculine strength that jewellery didn't detract from this impression. He was just barely translucent, giving him an aura of ghostliness, but across his back in a blue and gold sheath was the very real Master Sword. It completed the image of him as the ultimate fighter, the deadliest being in the history of the world, unmatched in his strength and courage. His face was grave, and almost frightening; he looked as though he could and would easily and quickly lay into anyone or anything suspicious, and Harry shrank back slightly, not wanting to be the first to speak to this god-like man. He hoped Dumbledore would volunteer something, but—
"Link?" came Zelda's voice.
Blinking, the figure standing in the cauldron turned to face the direction from which he had heard the queen's voice. As soon as he recognized Zelda, his demeanour changed entirely at the speed of light.
"Zel!" he shouted with a loud laugh, and jumped nimbly from the cauldron. She let out a laugh of her own and clapped her hands, childishly hopping on the spot as Link ran the few steps towards her. He swept her up clear off the ground in a tight bear hug, spun her around, and placed her back down. They were both beaming, clearly delighted in their reunion.
"Oh, let me look at you!" said Zelda, holding Link by his shoulders out at arm's length. "You look great," she said fondly, beaming at him. "Like you did in your Hero of Time days."
"Aw, thanks," Link said with a grin. "You sure look awesome, too. This is how I always think of you, all decked out to save Hyrule with me."
"This is how I always think of me, too," Zelda agreed, looking herself over. "Before I had three kids."
"Before we were even married," Link observed, inspecting his own newly formed hands. "Back when we were practically kids ourselves… Man, does this feel good!" He stretched his arms over his head like a cat who had just woken up, then turned, smiling inquisitively, to Harry and Dumbledore. "Hi," he said cheerfully. "Who might you be?"
Harry realized his mouth was hanging open, and closed it. He was completely stunned. Far from being an impressively stern and domineering warrior, Link was quite simply the most energetic, warm and genuine person Harry had ever seen. Though he looked to be roughly the same age as Zelda, his late teens, he had the vibe of a typically playful young boy, and Harry could easily imagine him running wild in the forest with his friends; his smile and laugh were both charming and contagious, and there was no doubting casual good looks. He clearly brought out the fun side of Zelda as well, and it was no wonder that she was so happy to see him again. Anyone would be.
There was something odd about him, though. Something that nagged at Harry…
Zelda performed the introductions. "Oh! This is Albus Dumbledore," she said, indicating him. "He brought me here. And this is Harry Potter, who brought you."
"We are your descendants," Dumbledore explained, extending a hand. "I am Zelda's, and Harry is yours."
Link shook Dumbledore's hand heartily, saying, "Pleased to meet you," then took Harry's and laughed, "So you're my great-great-great grandson or something? Probably a few dozen more 'great's in front of there, I guess."
"Er…yeah," Harry agreed, smiling uncertainly. Just as Zelda left him unsure how to act, so did Link, but for different reasons.
Clapping him on the shoulder, Link pulled Harry into an unexpected sort of masculine one-armed hug and handshake, saying, "It's great to see that my family's still around."
Harry was left rather bewildered and embarrassed by this affectionate action, even more so when Link ruffled his hair paternally after releasing him; Zelda gave a stifled giggle at the sight of his scruffiness and blankly confused face, placing her hand over her mouth to keep from laughing harder. Apparently this was their dynamic; he acted, and she reacted. They would probably bicker like siblings. Yet somehow, Harry still couldn't help thinking that the Hero of Time was definitely someone he liked to be able to call family.
"Let's go up to the castle," Dumbledore said. "I need to explain our situation."
"Of course," Zelda agreed, returning to her regal and dignified stature. Link, too, stood up straighter and instantly became as business-like and severe as he had always been depicted in the illustrations and portraits of him which Harry had seen.
"What's the situation?" he asked swiftly. "Ganondorf?"
"In part," Dumbledore told him. "I'll explain everything."
As the four of them walked to the castle, Dumbledore told Link and Zelda the history of Voldemort's quest for power. His was the only voice until they had nearly reached his office, at which point he had reached the tale of Voldemort's fall, and the deaths of Harry's parents.
"You're an orphan?" Link interrupted in a strangely suppressed voice, glancing at him.
Nodding, Harry said, "I didn't even know I was a wizard until I turned eleven."
Link regarded him seriously. "I know how you feel," he said simply.
They looked at each other a moment longer in silence, before Link pulled his eyes away from Harry's to focus on Dumbledore again and asked, "What happened after that?"
"The similarities between the two of you do not end there," the Headmaster informed him. "When Harry arrived at Hogwarts for the first time… Chocolate."
"What—Oh."
Neither Hylian so much as batted an eye as the gargoyle leapt out of the way, and simply followed Dumbledore up to his office as he went on to explain what had occurred since Harry had started school. The story of these accomplishments greatly fascinated both Link and Zelda, who took in every word eagerly, and occasionally shot him an impressed and proud smile. Seated in Dumbledore's office, Zelda leaned forward in her chair interestedly and Link leaned his own onto its back two legs, arms folded.
As they approached the end of the story of Harry's fourth year in school, Link actually stood up and paced the room restlessly, apparently angry at the injustice of it; upon hearing Dumbledore explain that Voldemort had used Harry's blood to regain his own life, he gripped Harry's shoulder protectively in his left hand.
It was this gesture that made Harry's stomach abruptly flip over so quickly that he felt dizzy. He suddenly realized what it was about Link's confident nature that had intrigued and bothered him from the moment they met—he was just like Sirius.
Harry looked up at Link; the resemblance wasn't a physical one in any way, but the similarities in their personalities and mannerisms were striking. They were both obvious and courageous fighters, intensely loyal, but they also had the same sense of humour and mischievousness. Link moved and acted like a blond version of Harry's godfather; how he stood with all his weight on one foot, or how he brushed his hair out of his face, or how he smirked irresistibly. His laughter, his pacing, and sitting with his chair tipped back, even the way he had given Harry that man-to-man half-hug…and now here he stood, doing the exact same thing that Sirius had done when he heard this story.
Keeping his attention under his control proved challenging for Harry now that he had to put his efforts into trying to ignore the reminder of his godfather that was boring into his mind in the form of the weight of Link's golden gauntleted hand on his shoulder.
After the story concluded, and Link and Zelda both knew exactly what was going on—that Voldemort had plans to raise Ganondorf in his corporal form in order to have the Triforce of Power on his side—Dumbledore finished by saying that they did not yet have a plan for counterattack.
"What I think it will come down to," he said, "is that you two will once again have to do battle with Ganondorf, but this time, it will be completed. Since Harry, Voldemort and I are all in positions to inherit our respective pieces of the Triforce, you should be able to definitively destroy Ganondorf."
"But we'll also destroy ourselves," Zelda spoke up, "and pass our destinies along to you."
Dumbledore nodded. "Precisely."
"So what we're basically talking about doing is pulling Voldemort and Ganon into a six-person confrontation with the four of us," Link summarized, sounding like the military leader he was. "Then we'll eliminate three of us, to simplify the matter down to one, current generation, and you can then resolve your own conflict either at the same time or at a later date."
"And it will eventually come down to a one-on-one combat between Courage and Power," Zelda added quietly, "as always."
Again, Dumbledore nodded. "Until then, however, life must continue, for if we let Voldemort prevent us from living as we have always done, then we let him win. Harry, there are guest dormitories in Gryffindor Tower where Zelda and Link can stay. I'm sure they will want to get themselves settled in before the chaos of the new term returns and they have to get acquainted with everyone."
"Oh," said Harry, who had expected the Hylians to be kept something of a secret, though he didn't know why he had assumed this. "Right. Of course, absolutely."
"We'll see you then, Albus," Zelda said, inclining her head politely. Link imitated her move, but he very clearly had not grown up in a noble household.
When they had left Dumbledore's office, Link asked, "Just out of curiosity, Harry… Why is there no one here? This castle's huge, but it's empty."
"It's the Christmas break," Harry explained, realizing as soon as he spoke that they would have no idea what Christmas was. "I mean…Christmas is this holiday we celebrate in the winter, and so all the students go back home to their families. Almost all of them, anyway. I stay here with my friends, Ron and Hermione, and a couple of other people do, too."
"Oh, your friends are around?" said Zelda, smiling at him. "I can't wait to meet them."
"Yeah," said Harry, looking at her thoughtfully, "I think you and Hermione will get along."
"And who's the other one?" asked Link. "Ron?"
"Yes."
"Weird names."
Zelda rolled her eyes. "You could have phrased that better."
"What?" Link asked defensively. "It's true! And they probably think our names are weird, too, right, Harry?" He turned to his descendant for support.
"Well…Zelda's pretty normal," Harry admitted truthfully. "But I've never heard of anyone called Link. It's just an everyday word, not a name."
"See, now you know how it feels," said Zelda parentally, grinning at Link's scowl.
He stuck out his tongue at her. She flicked his nose. He nudged her with his elbow. She poked him in the sensitive spot below his ribcage, then bolted, laughing.
"Yeah, you better run, Queenie!"
At over nine thousand years old, Harry thought as he grinned and hurried after them, they apparently still hadn't grown up.