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Harry's Soul - 5
Harry was having a horrible dream. The Great Hall had slipped away from him with laughter, and though this dream had also started with laughter, it was rapidly turning into a nightmare. Hermione and Lavender had been in some sort of crazy drinking game - Harry's normally studious friend had really cut loose at the pub and was sculling butter beer with reckless abandon. Ron and Terry Boot had also been playing a drinking game of some sort, but with something a bit stronger than the butter beer they usually ordered.
There had been a lot of friendly noise and movement until the back wall of the pub blew in. People screamed and went for their wands, or screamed and ran away, depending on whom they were and how much they'd had to drink. Ron had gone for his wand, but had been hit by two stunning spells at the same time. Grey robed Death Eaters had stormed the pub, grabbed Harry's beloved and activated a port key that whisked them away.
Harry fought to wake. He was vaguely aware of his body, distant and heavy in the hospital wing, lying safe but useless. He knew it was moving and making noise, because Madam Pomfrey was bent over him, trying to calm him down and wake him up. He saw the Matron point her wand at him and a moment later something sharp and cold crawled all over his skin, bringing his body that much closer to his mind.
"Ron," his mouth slurred without permission, and he struggled harder. Unfortunately, whatever it was Pomfrey had used to try and wake him also woke his connection to Voldemort. He saw his friend being dragged forward to the Dark Lord, Theodore Nott on one side and Bellatrix Lestrange on the other. He saw the horror on Ron's face when a masked Lucius Malfoy pulled a knife and started drawing the knife over vulnerable flesh while the Dark Lord looked on, amused at the tableau before him. He couldn't hear Ron's screams but he could see him pleading with his captors at each cut, squirming and fighting to get away while Voldemort's Death Eaters looked on.
Harry screamed too when they cut off the first finger, and there was a sharp shock that had him sitting up in bed, clutching Madam Pomfrey by the shoulders and shaking her hard. Ron was bleeding so badly, and his struggles were rapidly becoming weaker as the blood loss took its toll.
"They're killing him!" Harry howled, "RON!"
"Harry please!" Pomfrey shouted, shaking him back, "It's a dream!"
"Poppy! Hogsmede has been attacked! What on earth?" McGonagall burst into the hospital wing, and skidded to an abrupt halt at the sight before her. Her words broke the tableau, and killed any hope Harry had that the school matron was right. He struggled not to vomit as a second and then third finger was hacked off the beautiful hand, and threw himself out of the bed, changing the pyjamas he wore into Wizard robes, his watch hanging from the chain that Ginny had given him for Christmas. His wand was snatched up from the bedside table and Harry popped out of the wing to the edge of the clearing he could see with such chilling clarity.
"No, no please, no, no more, no."
Ron's broken whimpers tore at Harry's heart, and he reached out his senses to the forest that surrounded them. Voldemort hadn't noticed his arrival, and Harry had instinctively arrived just outside the wards the Dark Lord had set in place. These wards shimmered with a strange power, and Harry reached out his senses to test them.
They were in the heart of the Forbidden Forrest, and the wards were anchored into the very plants that surrounded them, and had been in place for quite some time. Harry could feel their anger and pain, and he reached out to them just the same way he would reach out to the castle, answering their call for help. The spell was draining them in order to survive, and Harry picked at the knot that held it in place carefully, releasing it with a quiet burst of power even as Malfoy severed Ron's last finger to a scream of pure anguish.
"No!" the cry was torn from Harry without conscious volition, and Voldemort swung around with a cackle of glee.
"So Potter!" he began, but Harry was already charging forward, intent only on getting to Ron. Spells from nearby Death Eaters exploded around him, or bounced off the shield he'd erected. Seeing that Harry wasn't going to be stopped, Voldemort shrieked a single command; one that Malfoy was quick to carry out. The knife drew across Ron's throat swiftly, and he gargled in horror as his life's blood spilled onto the carpet of ivy and leaves. He was dead before he hit the ground, and Harry's anguished scream scared roosting birds into flight for a five-mile radius.
Harry swung to face Voldemort, and the Dark Lord's look of amusement and triumph was replaced with one of fear. He went for his wand and shouted a spell that Harry countered without thinking, and once more their wands were joined by a golden beam of light. The Death Eaters shouts of dismay sounded oddly distant as Harry unleashed fully the power of his grieving heart. In an attempt to weaken his foe, Voldemort had unwittingly given him the final goad that would allow Harry to master all the powers he possessed.
He intended to kill this time, to wipe the foul thing from the face of the earth when something distracted him. It was just for a moment, and such a small thing that none of those watching even realised it had happened. The watch that Mark had given him for Christmas chimed once. Harry's eyes widened and then narrowed once more, the reminder of his much loved little brother bringing to mind another memory, this one of a sad little boy in his classroom, trying so hard to master a spell he normally wouldn't learn until his next year.
"In every living thing there is a code that tells it what to be. It tells it to be human or a tree or a beetle. It tells us what colour we are, the shape of our ears, the height we'll grow to, if we're fat or thin, even if we use our left or right hands to hold a wand… you're telling the code to change..."
The wands hummed and vibrated and Harry took a deep breath, unleashing his powers and sending them through the air, through the ground and through the very plants themselves, reaching out to touch the code that told the being in front of him to be Tom Riddle.
The Dark Rites that Tom had undergone had to have been truly agonising, though that was nothing compared to the agony Harry's soul felt now. Harry saw at once that the thing in front of him was more dead than alive, its magic the only thing that stopped the death of the body it currently inhabited. Harry could clearly see the spells that Riddle had used desperately to keep his magic anchored to his body, and it was a moment's work to snap those bonds, not with the care Harry would have used with his other Important People, but with the cruel callousness of one recently made a widower.
Voldemort saw too late what Harry was doing, and the Death Eaters were too cowardly to interfere. The other mans shriek of pain fell on deaf ears as Harry reached deep into his enemies life code and listened to the living song of the nocturnal forest. His assistance to the trapped plants was repaid in full as they agreed to take over the guardianship of the one called Tom Riddle, and Harry let his grief surge out of him one last time.
The plants around them seemed to surge up, and wrap around the man before him as light poured from Harry into the spell he was casting. Voldemort twisted and turned, his wand absorbed into the plant mass as Harry's spell took hold. The light turned from white to gold and blotted everything out for a moment. When he could see again, Harry stood in front of a gnarled and twisted tree, its branches flung up to the night sky as if in supplication, a heavy mantle of ivy and Devils Snare wrapped around its trunk. Death Eaters disapparated left right and centre in panic, but Harry didn't care. A final brush of magic ensured that this tree would never be transfigured into anything else, the remnants of the Dark Rites used to secure it in its final form.
A feather floated down from the sky to land on Harry's shoulder and he picked it up curiously. It was red with golden flecks, and he could hear the song of a Phoenix as he held it. The plants had rejected Voldemort's wand core. Harry stuck the feather inside his robes with his wand and turned to the blood soaked heap of cloth on the ground.
With a soft sob, he brushed Ron's hair out of his eyes one last time and then picked the broken body up, returning to Hogwarts and an empty future.
0o0o0o0
His appearance in the hospital wing brought screams of horror. Hermione's voice rose above the others, and Harry turned from placing his burden on an empty bed, reaching out hands that were stained with Ron's blood.
"I wasn't fast enough," he begged for her understanding, "Malfoy killed him before I could stop it."
Tears ran down his face as the events of the night caught up with his already exhausted body. Madam Pomfrey muttered a spell, her voice dazed, and the blood disappeared, leaving Harry windswept and pale. He sobbed and Hermione threw herself into his arms, holding him tightly. Hermione turned her head on his shoulder to look down at their friend and screamed, jolting back from Harry in shock, her hand over her mouth as she pointed with the other.
Harry turned to stare at the body on the bed, and for a long moment he couldn't comprehend what he was seeing. Then his heart caught up with his head and he shouted in jubilation. He'd seen this change before, in fact he'd watched his best friend turn from Crabbe back to himself, fascinated by the way the bones seemed to melt and shift, taking the muscles with them. Red hair, soaked with blood became blonde and lanky limbs shortened into the compact muscles of Draco Malfoy.
"Malfoy killed his own son," the inane words fell from his lips as he stared at the mangled body of his former year mate, "Draco took the Polyjuice potion!"
Hermione started to cry again, this time with relief, but Harry couldn't summon the energy for another reaction. He felt bruised and vulnerable, and something in the hospital wing was whining at an annoyingly loud pitch. The floor seemed to have been tilted too, and Harry wondered how Madam Pomfrey managed to stand at that angle.
"Where's Ron?" Harry looked around, bewildered, "Hermione, where is he?"
He tried to stretch out his magic, seeking the beloved magical signature of his friend, but found to his dismay that his own magic was badly depleted. The effort turned his already white face an ugly grey colour and he staggered on the spot, overwhelmed. The Headmasters arms closed around him and Harry was swept up and onto a bed.
"We'll find him, dear boy," was the last thing he heard as the whine reached an unbearable pitch and darkness rolled over him in a blessedly silent wave. He fought it stubbornly for a while, before giving in and just floating along. He was tired, and as much as he needed to find Ron, some small part of him knew that if he tried with his magic depleted and his body aching with exhaustion he'd probably get them both killed. As hard as it was to acknowledge, he had to trust the others to find Ron for him. He had to trust Ron to come back to him safe and sound.
He floated along in the blackness for a while, buffeted by soft voices and touches. At one point he was sure he heard Sirius laugh, that peculiar bark so like Padfoot that Harry wondered for a moment if his godfather was nearby. Something was tugging at him though, tenderly but urgently, and Harry followed it through the darkness willingly, knowing that whatever it was, it meant him no harm.
He came to himself in a bed in the hospital wing, curled on his side. There was a very familiar and much loved scent engulfing him, and Harry breathed it gratefully. He'd know the smell of his love anywhere, and after a moment a very nice kiss was planted on his lips, warm skin brushing and massaging his. It was reminiscent of another waking, in a happier time, and Harry moved his lips a little in a small smile.
"Good morning, lover," Ron's voice sounded softly in his eager ears as the lips left his and Harry wanted to protest, wanting more kisses. Ron's fingers wound into his hair, and Ron's forehead rested on his, so Harry decided not to fret too much over it. This was almost just as good.
"Its early morning again, and time for our little ritual."
They had a ritual? When had that been established, and what else had Harry missed? Since this alleged ritual involved a scalp massage and tender kisses dropped on his face he didn't protest too hard.
"Now then," Ron breathed into his ear, and action that made Harry hum in contentment. It was a known weakness that his beloved friend exploited at the slightest excuse, "I have a feeling, Harry that you either had an out-of-body experience for our graduation night and the party, of which Trelawney would be so proud or - as Dumbledore seems to think more likely - you used a sort of Dwarves magic to speak to your surroundings. Apparently Dwarf miners talk to the earth, the air and the plants to find the best veins of the minerals they mine. Did you know that? Well, you do now. As I was saying you came with us to the graduation, and the party after I'd bet, and saw the Death Eaters grab me at the pub."
Harry could remember that with cold clarity, and shifted closer to Ron, and action that seemed to delight the redhead. He was rewarded with another very nice kiss and a nibble to his ear lobe.
"You're very with it today," Ron mused, "Thinking of joining us?"
When he got no response from the man he was cuddling, Ron shrugged - Harry could feel it - and settled in to tell the rest of his story, Harry hanging from his every word.
"When I came round, the two of them had me tied to a tree in the forest. They'd wrapped ropes around me and the trunk that covered me from shoulders to ankles. They hadn't noticed me open my eyes and I decided to play possum for a while and see what they could tell me. They were chatting away quite happily, and I figured out what Voldemort was doing. He was relying on you to be so upset that he could exploit your connection and send you the visions of what he was doing to me. Because he guessed that you would know the difference between a real and a fake vision, he had Draco take some Polyjuice Potion with my hair in it. If I was out of it, but there was someone who looked and sounded just like me right in front of him, Voldemort figured that you wouldn't notice any small differences."
"Hair?" Harry wondered, not realising he was doing it aloud. Ron's tale was drawing him to the surface, allowing light to overcome the woolly darkness that had cocooned him for what seemed like years. Ron pressed another very nice kiss to Harry's lips and Harry responded happily, enjoying the attention.
"Do you remember the remains of that poor house elf that was found outside the school? It was Kreacher, and he was obeying the demands of Bellatrix Lestrange, who managed to break out of prison. We've been able to piece together that Lestrange demanded that Kreacher serve her, and then killed him once he'd completed her mission to ensure he couldn't betray them. Fudge has been covering up the escapes from Azkaban for months and mum nearly went to Azkaban for hexing him with haemorrhoids."
Harry gasped and Ron's arms tightened, kisses raining down on his face once more. Harry managed to twine his fingers tightly in Ron's sleeve, the gesture pleading for reassurance, which he got in spades.
"Dumbledore got her off, its ok," he was reassured, "Don't fret, mate."
Harry didn't loosen his grip though, determined to wake up properly and check on Molly Weasley for himself. Ron's voice was helping him do that, and the red head seemed to understand this, because he kept talking.
"So there I am, tied to a tree, with two Death Eaters pacing around," he continued, "And suddenly they both grab their left forearm and start howling in pain and rolling about. I guessed that you were doing something to Voldemort to cause this and started struggling to get away. I can't though, and when they stop howling they both disapparate without even looking back. I keep trying to work on the ropes, and just as the sun comes up Pettigrew arrives. He slices the ropes, and disapparates of before I can gain my balance. My wand was on the ground, so I grabbed it and apparated back to Hogsmede before heading for the school."
Harry sighed in relief and opened his eyes in time for another very nice kiss and some soothing massage. Ron's brown eyes lit up when he saw Harry was awake, and a charmingly shy smile lit his face. Harry drank in the sight of the healthy colour in his friends face and the feeling of all eight fingers and both thumbs touching Harry.
"There you are," Ron tousled his hair affectionately, "You've been asleep for three whole weeks. Hungry?"
Harry nodded and let his friend help him sit up. He insisted that Ron climb into the bed with him and cuddled up, still a little dazed, but reassured that his Wheezy was alive and well.
0o0o0o0
Madam Pomfrey fed him and let him out, reassuring Harry that the fatigue he was feeling after three weeks of sleep was normal. She advised him to take a 'good long holiday and come back to school refreshed'. Harry liked the sound of that, and followed Ron to the Headmasters office, their next official port of call. Professor McGonagall was there, apparently sharing a cup of breakfast tea with Dumbledore as they reviewed the last of school business before closing the school for the holidays. Mark had gone to Cornwall with Professor Flitwick for the summer, something that Ron had explained in soft tones over breakfast.
Professor McGonagall kissed his cheek, making Ron laugh at his blushes, and poured a cup of tea for them both. Harry sipped it once, and then put it aside, launching straight into a recount of his final battle with Voldemort. If he'd learned anything over his time at Hogwarts it was that delaying something unpleasant never helped. Dumbledore liked his reports on the spot, or as soon as possible after the fact, and Harry didn't feel up to idle chatter at the moment. Ron listened as avidly as the teachers, and when it was all over the red head sighed and leaned back.
"That is… incredible," Dumbledore murmured, breaking a long silence. Harry shrugged, looking at the carpet. It had to be done, and at least this way he knew that Voldemort would not come back. He wasn't a murderer either, which he was very relieved about.
"A tree, Harry?" Professor McGonagall asked gently, and he nodded. She smiled and patted his hand, urging him to finish his tea once more.
"Sir," Harry sipped his tea, "Did you ever figure out what it was that Voldemort was looking for? If his Death Eaters decide to go after it still to try and restore him…"
Dumbledore held up a very arresting hand, and Harry trailed off, looking at his mentor questioningly. She beamed at him fondly, and he looked back to the Headmaster, who was twinkling at Ron. He noticed the understanding dawn on Harry's face and nodded confirmation.
"That's right, Harry," the old man smiled.
"What's right?" Ron asked curiously. Harry felt a mixture of elation and terror. What he was about to reveal to Ron could change their future forever. If Ron understood the depth of Harry's feelings for him he might draw back. As far as Harry knew it was all a bit of fun for the redhead.
"Ron, you're the key that Voldemort was looking for. He was searching for something powerful, something that would compel me to face him once and for all. He must have known that you were the person I'd miss the most in the Triwizard Tournament, and I guess that someone - possibly Draco - told him that we were together. He knew that if he had you, I'd follow as certain as night follows day. You're too important for me to risk losing. In the end, I only defeated him because I lost control of my grief. I thought you were dead," the words were like ashes in his mouth, and Ron's hands closed over his, the redhead pulling him into a tender hug that felt so good. The office was silent for a long moment as Harry got himself under control again, his lashes a little wet, but his face dry of tears.
"Well," Dumbledore stirred in his chair, "You'd best be off to the Burrow, boys. Harry, after all that has happened with the Ministry I took the liberty of sending your effects to Molly's care. Should you decide to travel, do let me know. I'll expect to see you back here a week before classes start."
"The Ministry?" Harry shot a look at Ron, who hadn't mentioned the Ministry to Harry at all, and seemed to think it was his turn to blush, "What about the Ministry?"
"Ah," Dumbledore leaned back and gave Ron a very strange look. Ron blushed even redder, and Harry wondered what his friend had done. From the colour and intensity of the blush this was sure to be worse than outing them to his parents and not telling Harry that he'd done it.
"They wanted to take you away," McGonagall spoke up when Rod didn't, "To a secure house with a Healer of the Ministers own choosing. He argued that despite your apprenticeship to the school, the Headmaster and myself had no legal say in your…how did he put it?"
"Final disposition," Dumbledore enunciated the words clearly, with just a hint of anger. Harry frowned. He was not an object to be disposed of.
"Yes," McGonagall looked like she'd had dragon dung dropped in her lap, "He declared that you were a national treasure, and as such your care and well being should be referred to his office exclusively."
"But he obviously didn't get his way, because I woke up here," he gestured at the office, and the paintings on the walls that were - for once - not pretending to be asleep. Ron coughed awkwardly and took a deep breath, turning in his chair to face Harry. Harry reached out a hand to his friend, who took it and held it tightly between both of his. Harry had meant for the gesture to reassure Ron, but it looked like Ron thought it was the other way around. His blush was subsiding, so Harry didn't argue the point.
"Harry, the only way to over ride the Minister and keep you with us was for me to…" Ron trailed off and took a shaky breath. Harry squeezed the hand in his and waited patiently.
"There is a spell called Annum Fidelious. It's used in Wizard law when two people of the same gender want to publicly join their lives together," Ron's eyes seemed to be pleading with him to understand, though he didn't give Harry a chance to speak, "It has to be performed by someone not related to the couple, and once it's performed it's as binding as a marriage ceremony. The participants have to have been in a faithful intimate relationship for a year, and have the desire to be joined together for the rest of their life. I challenged Fudge to perform the spell, and he agreed because he assumed that you were straight. The spell worked perfectly, and that made me the person who was to decide if you were to remain here, or not."
"Wait a minute. I slept through our marriage?" Harry spluttered, "Ron, I'm so sorry!"
"You're not mad?" Ron asked incredulously, "I didn't ask you first, and when Fudge realised what he'd done he told me that when you woke you'd be furious."
"And since when has Fudge ever been right about anything, including me?" Harry grinned; gripping the other mans hand so tightly their flesh was turning white with the pressure, "Ron, the spell worked! That means that as far as I was concerned we were as good as married, and even though I wasn't awake I assume the spell wouldn't have worked if I hadn't already wanted you for the rest of my life. The only reason I didn't bring it up before all this was because I didn't think it was something that Wizards could do."
Ron sagged in relief and Harry got up, pulling the red head into his arms and hugging the living daylights out of him. Ron was strong and vital in his arms, smelling of life and warmth. While Harry would have preferred to have gotten married while he was awake and not as a part of a power game played by a twisted politician, now that the ceremony had been performed, there was nothing he would do to change that. There was a small piece of tension in Ron's arms that Harry wanted gone, and like any other typical bloke he had just the perfect comment for the occasion.
"I can't wait for the honeymoon," he whispered and Ron spluttered and blushed into his collar.
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