Chapter 18: Death's Complications

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"Unbeing dead isn't being alive." 

-e.e. cummings

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Ron, as the new Gryffindor Quidditch Captain, was enthusiastic about starting practices and did so earlier than the other 
teams. Harry wasn't at all upset by this; he needed something, anything, to take his mind off his recent stress and fight 
with Rachel.

He walked out onto the Quidditch pitch with Ron on the first day of tryouts. The wind was bitter and cold; the start of the
season had been pushed back due to the attacks. Now, nearly halfway through November, the air was crisp and cool. Harry 
shivered slightly, pulling his cloak tighter around him.

"Where is everyone?" Ron asked, looking impatiently at his watch. Though he was nervous, Harry also thought he seemed very 
excited.

"We're 20 minutes early, Ron," Harry pointed out, glancing at his own watch. He rubbed his hands together, trying to warm
himself.

"Wonderful day for Quidditch practice, huh, mate?" Ron asked, opening the case containing the balls. Harry scoffed.

"Ron, it's bloody freezing out here! What are you talking about?" Harry said through chattering teeth. Ron laughed. 

"You should've worn a jumper. Really, I don't think it's that bad." He craned his neck to see around the goalpost. "Look,
Harry! Here come some of them now!" Harry peered in the direction Ron was looking and saw that he was correct; several
people were walking towards them, carrying brooms.

"Great," Harry muttered. "Maybe once we get moving my body will thaw out."

"Hey Kirke, Sloper!" Ron called, waving to two boys walking toward the field. "Glad you could make it!"

"Of course," Andrew Kirke said with a lopsided grin. "I wouldn't miss this for the world."

"Just hope it doesn't get cancelled again, after all those attacks, you know..." Jack Sloper said gloomily.

"I'm sure it won't, I mean, there's already been attacks and they haven't cancelled it yet," Ginny Weasley said, walking
up to the crowd. 

"I hope not," Ron said darkly. A few more students began to gather; Euan Ambercrombie, Lavendar Brown, some third and fourth
years, and...

"Hermione?!" Ron asked incredulously. "What're you doing here?" She shrugged.

"I thought I'd try out. Is that okay?" she asked testily.

"Oh, well uh, sure... you just never seemed like the Quidditch type..." Ron stuttered.

"I've never seen you fly before, Hermione," Ginny said politely. Hermione gave a wide smile.

"Well, I've been practicing. We'll see how it goes." Ron stepped back from the crowd, feeling a bit dazed.

"All right, everyone, we're going to start with some warm ups. Now if you'll just mount your brooms..."

Ron led the group through some routine drills for quite some time. He then organized everyone into teams and had a practice
game, trying out different players in different positions. After a while, he flew up towards where Harry was.

"Mate, what are you thinking?" he asked in a low voice, scanning the Quidditch players below them as they zoomed back and
forth on their brooms. Harry grinned.

"You're the captain, not me," Harry replied innocently, shrugging. "Why, I don't even know if I'm going to make it on the team
this year, I haven't caught the snitch at all." He smiled sarcastically and Ron smacked him on the shoulder.

"Harry, stop being such a git. You know you're on the team. Now, what do you think about the players?"

"Well, first off, Kirke and Sloper for sure... they're doing well... Ginny and Lavendar have been doing fine as chasers..."

"You know what I meant," Ron whispered. "What about Hermione?" Harry watched her as she flew across the field, nearly colliding
with a third year and only seconds later narrowly avoided a bludger.

"Er... well..." Ron snorted with laughter.

"Yeah, that's kind of what I was thinking. She's horrible, mate. How can I tell her that?" Ron asked desperately.

"Well, don't put it that way," Harry said absently, watching as Kirke scored on the current keeper, Euan Ambercrombie. Ron
rolled his eyes.

"I try to ask you for girl advice Harry, and this is what I get?" he said sarcastically. Harry laughed out loud.

"I doubt I'm the best one to ask for that type of thing," Harry replied.

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Ron stayed up late that night preparing the list of members for that year's Quidditch team. Harry tried to stay awake as well;
he had been doing his Transfiguration essay, but found himself drifting off to sleep every few minutes. Eventually, he stood
up and walked to his bed.

"Ron, I'm tired," he complained. "Aren't you done with that yet? It should have been easy to decide, I thought it was obvious
who was good and who wasn't-"

"I've been done for an hour," Ron said gloomily. "I've just been trying to figure out how to tell Hermione she didn't make
the team." Harry tried hard not to laugh; he had to disguise his chuckle with a cough.

"Ron, I'm sure she'll understand. Just go post the sheet in the common room and then go to bed!" Ron shook his head.

"I'll put it up in a few days... after I figure out what to say to Hermione."

Harry lay back on his bed and fell asleep almost immediately. Just as quickly, he found himself face-to-face with none other
than Dulcinea Rosalind Garcia. He looked into her face, feeling nervous.

"Don't be worried, Harry, we just have some things to discuss." Harry nodded, but his anxiety did not subside.

"How will I know what to do in this final battle? Where it should be? When-"

"April 27," Dulcinea interrupted smoothly. Harry looked at her in shock.

"You picked a DATE for it?" he asked in amazement, feeling the knots in his stomach tighten.

"Well, it's a good starting point, knowing what day you want it to happen," she said nonchalantly. "For the other answers to
your questions, you will know what to do because you will start learning new spells. That's your next task, and that's why I
think it should be that far away." Harry nodded, swallowing the lump in his throat. "As for where... well, where do you think
the best place would be?" she asked kindly. Harry thought for a moment.

"Not Hogwarts or Hogsmeade, too many people... err... probably not Diagon Alley either, and any muggle place is out of the
question..." Dulcinea smiled sweetly.

"Dear, I think you're missing the point of this... How exactly to you intend to defeat him?"

"Avada Kedavra?" Harry asked, feeling as though she was right. I don't know what she means, and I really AM missing her
point...
"What I'm trying to say, Harry, is that I don't think a simple curse can kill him. After all, he's spent so many years trying
to make himself immortal." She looked very nervous, Harry noticed. With a sigh, she continued. "I'm suggesting the Veil of
Death in the Department of Mysteries." Harry was taken aback.

"But... what-what if it doesn't work? I don't even really know what that thing does!" 

"It's a very ancient work of Dark Magic, from before even my time," Dulcinea responded quietly. "Its exact meaning has never
been fully discovered, because as you know, once one passes through the veil, they can never return to this world." Harry
didn't respond. The same thing that took Sirius' life is going to save the world? he thought to himself, feeling 
confused. It just didn't seem to work out.

"So you really don't know much about the veil?" Harry asked in an unconfident voice. Dulcinea smiled at him sympathetically.

"My dear boy, I know there's many books on the subject. Research it if you'd like, if it makes you feel better. I just don't 
believe that there's any other solution." Harry nodded.

"Thanks, Dulcinea," he mumbled, before the scene slipped away from his eyes and he found himself once again in a state of
blissful slumber.

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The next day was hectic and chaotic for Harry. He woke up late, couldn't find a matching sock, spilled his pumpkin juice
at breakfast, got stung by an evil plant in Herbology, and mixed his potion wrong so that it boiled over, covering the table
with a thick, sticky red substance. Hermione gave him a sympathetic look from across the room; her potion was light pink and
had green steam rising from its surface, just like it was supposed to. Harry stared at the red gunk in defeat.

"Twenty points from Gryffindor for attempting to destroy school property," Snape drawled from his desk. He swished his wand
and the mess vanished. "No points for you today, Potter." Harry slumped down into his chair, feeling overwhelmed. The class
ended soon after and Harry walked, zombie-like, out to the hallway to join Ron and Hermione.

"Sorry about your potion," Ron said quietly. "Snape's such a git, 'destroying school property', when he can clean it up with
one spell..."

"You added too much wormwood," Hermione stated matter-of-factly. "It's only supposed to be one teaspoon, you know."

"Thank you, Hermione," Harry said through gritted teeth. The trio had reached the entrance to the Great Hall, but Harry found
he really didn't want dinner.

"Guys, I'm not hungry. I think I'll go to the library," he said. Hermione nodded approvingly, but Ron looked worried.

"You okay, mate? Giving up food for studying just doesn't sound like you."

"I told you, I'm not hungry," he muttered, walking away towards the library. Halfway down the hall, he realized the books he
would need to research the veil wouldn't be accessible to everyone. They would be in the Restricted Section.

"Damn," he muttered aloud. What teacher would blindly sign a permission slip for the Restricted Section?
No one, he thought with a sigh. There were no air-headed teachers this year. Harry took a deep breath. I'll tell
the whole thing to Dumbledore, maybe he'll understand. Harry walked through the corridor towards Dumbledore's office.
After guessing several types of candy, the gargoyles finally parted at "Fizzing Whizbees". He climbed the stairs two at a time
and knocked gently on the door.

"Come in," Dumbledore called. Harry opened the door and found the Headmaster standing on the other side of the room, staring
out his window. "Ah, Mr. Potter, what brings you here today?"

"Well," Harry said, taking a deep breath. "I need to research something, and I think it will be in the Restricted Section of 
the library." He paused, waiting to see if he should continue. Dumbledore's eyes twinkled mischeviously on his tired-looking
face.

"Of course, Harry," he replied, pulling a quill and a piece of parchment from his desk. He jotted down a quick note and handed
it to his student.

"But, sir... you don't even want to know why?" Harry asked, surprised. Professor Dumbledore smiled.

"I have a very good idea why. Now hurry, the library's only open for a few more hours." With that, Harry bid him goodbye and
left the office.

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Surprisingly, Madame Pince didn't even question the validity of Harry's note. Apparently, a handwritten message from the 
headmaster held much more prestige than the glorified signature Hermione had gotten from Gilderoy Lockhart during their second
year. Harry scanned the books, searching for something relevant. He picked out several promising books and began to read.
After about a half hour, he finally found something that might be useful.

The Veil of Death, also known as the Veil of Darkness, the Veil of Beyond, and the Portal to the Afterlife, was created
circa 250 B.C. It was one of the first objects of Dark Magic ever created, and continues to be one of the most dangerous
in existence. Those who enter Veil from the North side are transported to what some believe to be a state of death; some
theories maintain that it is not real death, but a dimension between physical life and complete mortality. The creator of
the Veil is unknown, but in ancient times it was used as an execution device, especially during several of the more bloody
wizarding wars. Its use was halted in 1720 A.D. after complaints that its real significance was not known. Since then, it has
been kept in secret locations, hidden from the public. It is currently housed in the Department of Mysteries in the British
Ministry of Magic.
Harry sighed. So basically, no one really knew what it did. He flipped open another book, and an odd name caught his eye.

King Menkaure met his end through the Veil of Death after a bloody rule over the people of Egypt. The Pharaoh's rule had
become overwhelmingly brutal and his top officials planned his secret assasination. The high priests, fearing that Menkaure 
had made himself completely immortal, imported the Veil from the Far East and tricked the Pharaoh into entering. Though he 
had worked for years to make himself resistant to death, Menkaure was unable to reenter the world of the living after having
passed through the Veil.
Harry's heart rose and his breathing quickened. He grabbed the book, along with a few others, and dashed up to Madame Pince's
desk check it out. Stuffing it into his backpack, he hurried back upstairs to his dormitory. 

"This is it," he breathed in excitement, his fingers trembling as he flipped back to the page he had found in the library. 
"It should work! The Veil should be able to kill him even after everything he's done to try to stay alive!"

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Sorry it's been taking me so long to update. Once a week is about all the time I have, if that! Menkaure really was an Egyptian
Pharaoh, but the history is of course completely fabricated by yours truly. 

Hope everyone's enjoying the story!! Please review!

Thanks to my reviewers:

Alex
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