Chapter 27
He was so cold. Where was the moist warmth of the sun in the Great Courtyard or the dry heat of a blazing fire in the Common Room hearth? Where were his clothes-his shirt and trousers, his red-and-gold muffler, his school robes with the Hogwarts Crest? Where was his wand? He was naked in a cold, dark place devoid of light. He strained his ears but heard not a single sound, stretched his sight but saw nothing, reached out in all directions to the limits of his hands and feet but felt nothing.
Dark, frozen, and endless, the void both evaded him and smothered him.
He was so cold. And he was alone.
"Hello? Is anyone there?" His own voice bounced back to him, muffled and distant, little more intelligent than the buzz of an annoying insect. Receiving no answer, he grumbled beneath his breath, "You could have at least left me with my underwear."
How long had he been here? Why was he there in the first place? Was it a punishment of some kind? A test? An attack? Better still, how had he come to be there? If he knew the way in, maybe he could find a way out.
"I'm a Gryffindor," he said to himself. As the only voice in the void, he had only himself for company. "I can do this. Even without my wand, I can make it back home if I just can find the way. Surely I'm not the only thing here."
There, ahead. Something. A weak, twinkling star point of light, alternately flaring bright then dimming almost from sight. He could observe it only from the corner of his eye. If he tried to look directly at the light, it vanished from sight.
It was so far away. Could he reach it? Should he even try?
He shrugged his mental shoulders. Try or not, stay or go. The void surrounded him either way. At least by seeking the light, he was doing something.
The star point remained distant and elusive, never growing any nearer. Was he moving at all? A pressure against his skin hinted at movement. He felt he'd come a great distance in a very short time yet the light remained far out of reach.
"I want to reach the light!"
The light flared then weakened. Was it even further away than before?
Some being, somewhere in some universe, was watching him and laughing its arse off. He just knew it. There was a wicked intelligence behind this horrid place that no teenage boy's imagination could grasp.
"Please let me reach the light!"
Just like that, there it was, less than a dozen meters away and rotating in a clockwise direction. The pure silver orb of light was twice his height and almost double his width. Bolts of lightning skipped across its surface to form a compact lattice of energy. Dark green blotches dotted its surface beneath the streaks of light.
Apparently all he had to do was ask politely.
Did something lay inside the egg of light, or was it an opening of some kind-a portal or a window? Pressing the green spots in a certain order might work, but what order to use? He examined the lightning, searching for a pattern in the flashes. They came too quickly, arcing up like solar flares in random places. He dared not risk reaching through to the orb beneath, even if such a move would provide an escape from the void.
As he watched, the orb shrank some five or six centimeters. If it was a portal and it was closing, he might have little time to activate it and escape.
Was there a puzzle to be solved here or would the mystery be explained with a simple, politely worded question?
"Please," he spoke to the void above him even though the act made him blush a shade of bright crimson worthy of a Gryffindor banner, "is there something inside? May I see?"
The walls of the orb shifted. The lightning continued unchanged but all trace of color and opacity leeched from the material. A ghostly form came to view. The sphere was a container, then, with walls that now resembled thick, cloudy glass.
The thing inside had very little room to move. It resembled more than anything an infant curled up in a womb of lighted glass. Would the orb shrink to the point where it threatened the thing inside? How much time did he have?
The orb continued its slow rotation, until the form inside turned enough to present its front to him. He blinked and stared.
The face was familiar. He'd seen it almost every day since their first train ride to Hogwarts. Messy black hair brushed the top of the orb. The long, slender body, equally devoid of clothes, curled tight as the walls pressed in on all sides. A lightning shaped scar marked his forehead.
"Harry! Harry Potter!"
A clear note, like struck crystal, filled the air. He moved back, startled, until the single note dissipated. He called again, careful not to yell.
"Harry, can you hear me?"
Again the pure tone, this one more sustained. The orb wall-was he imagining it or-yes, it had expanded just the tiniest bit, enough to allow the slightest bit of space between Harry's head and the top of the sphere. Prism rainbows appeared on the orb's surface as light fractured off tiny cracks in the wall.
It made no sense-if the orb responded to noise, why hadn't it reacted to his questions addressed to the void?
Whatever the answer, one truth remained: he had to get Harry out of the orb before it started shrinking again. But how to do it?
When Neville Longbottom jerked awake, he had the misfortune to be staring directly at a burning wall sconce. Blinded by its brilliance, he closed his eyes and turned away from the flames.
He blinked and stared around, at first unable to establish anything about his surroundings. The void had become Neville's reality. He was a long moment reconnecting with Hogwarts and his life there.
He was on a bed in the hospital wing. A glance at the windows showed the first rose-tinted clouds of dawn.
Every bed seemed to be occupied, though something told Neville they weren't there for medical reasons. Ron's parents curled up together in one magically expanded bed, covered by a mound of blankets. Beyond them he saw Cornelius Fudge-when had the Minister arrived-and Harry's Muggle relations. Neville was surprised to see Professor Lupin on one bed, a big black dog curled against his blanket-draped back. Of all the beings visible from Neville's location, only the dog was awake, its eyes intent and ears peaked as it stared toward the far end of the chamber.
A huff of sound brought his attention back to the closer beds. Hermione occupied the bed directly to the right of Neville's own. Draco Malfoy slept on the next one over. Hard snores brought Neville's awareness to the platform on his left. Professor Snape sprawled across the student-sized bed, his stockinged feet shoved through the slats of the footboard.
Voices. He heard voices, soft and deep, intense with emotion. The sounds came from behind the cloth dividers around the section of room where Harry's hospital bed lay.
Neville Longbottom threw aside his blankets and stood, only to find his legs unsteady beneath him. A wild grab of the bed frame saved him from an embarrassing tumble to the cold stone floor.
Something pressed against his right leg. Neville looked down to find the black dog at his side, looking up at him with too-intelligent eyes. The dog whined once, an unmistakable sound of encouragement. A cold nose nuzzled his palm as though urging him to grab hold of the dog's furry back for support.
After a few moments, Neville dared to release the metal frame and, with the dog's support, take a single, wobbly step. The first success heralded a second, more confident step, until he made his way around the screen.
Ron Weasley draped across a nearby chair, weary to the point of collapse. Only stubborn pride kept him awake. Behind him, Rubeus Hagrid leaned against the wall, intent on observing the happenings without being in anyone's way. A pile of broken threads and clumps of demolished linen lay across Hagrid's boots-the half-giant had ripped his handkerchief to shreds and had started doing the same to the hem of his molefur vest.
Madam Pomfrey and Professor McGonagall stood on the far side of the corner bed. Headmaster Dumbledore, clad in his dragon-decorated ash gray robes, stood on the near side. All three wore matching expressions of concern. Exhaustion lined every face and made every shoulder slump. Madam Pomfrey in particular appeared ready to fall down.
Neville did not recognize the floating patient beneath the thick coating of golden paste. The congealed lotion covered every inch of the body, from crown to toenail. A distinctodor of spice filled the air. The body more closely resembled a golden statue devoid of detail than it did a living, breathing human being.
"The lotion is reversing the skin loss," the mediwitch said, an unmistakable note of vexation in her voice as she ran her wand over Harry's unresponsive body, "and his life signs are improving. The lesions are gone and his magical signature is stabilizing. Even his hair is regenerating. Every reading indicates the curse has been reversed. He should be waking up. I don't understand why he isn't."
Harry ... unaware ... like an infant in the womb ... the orb ... shrinking ... except when one talks directly to it ...
Neville spoke his thoughts. "We need to talk to him."
Both Madam Pomfrey and Professor McGonagall turned and looked at Neville. Minerva tilted her head to stare at him over the top of her glasses. Her expression was part irritation and part grasping at any straw. Poppy's held only desperate hope.
"What is that you say, Mr. Longbottom?"
Presented with the question, Neville thought about how his answer would sound. "Please, Professor, the answer came to me in a seer's dream." He cringed away from the embarrassing picture in his mind. A warm, moist dog tongue against the inside of his wrist encouraged him to speak anyway, despite the potential humiliation.
"I ... I had a dream. Harry was floating in a great void. A dark place with no light or warmth, no sound or anything. He was there, and I was there, but he couldn't see me. He's lost, trapped in an orb of light. The orb is shrinking, about to crush him. We need to help him get back."
"A dream, Mr. Longbottom?" Dumbledore laid his hand on Neville's trembling shoulder. "At this point, we will accept any avenue of advice. Talk to him, you say?"
Neville nodded. "When I spoke to the void itself, nothing happened. It was only when I spoke directly to Harry that the orb expanded."
"Very well. Round up ... or rather wake up ... one or two who are his friends. Add Mr. Malfoy to your list if you would, please. It might be best, however, if you let the others sleep, particularly the Dursleys. I daresay you'll find everyone we need here in this room, sleeping." Professor Dumbledore turned to Ron and suggested, "Mr. Weasley, you should take the time to sleep yourself so that you will be refreshed enough to take your turn talking. We will set up a schedule. Someone will be at his side, speaking to him at all times."
"And then Malfoy cast some kind of spell on the Muggles," Ron said to Harry. "He said that, yeah, we could have turned them into slugs or grubs or even monkey-faced jackasses. The Professors might even've liked to do the same themselves but they would've had to change them back right away. Draco said it was a delayed-reaction curse but I'll be damned if I know what it'll do. I suppose we have to wait until the next new moon to find out."
"That story's not true," Hermione scolded as she scratched behind the ears of the black dog sprawled across the foot of Harry's bed. "Is it?"
"True as my name is Ronald Weasley. Wizard's honor."
Hermione raised both eyebrows, sighed, and whispered, "Bizarre."
The two teens fell silent as, on the other side of the bed, the school's mediwitch ran her wand over Harry Potter's body. Sometime in the long hours since dawn, the levitation spell had been cancelled. Harry lay directly on the bed, though he still resembled a featureless golden statue draped by a single sheet.
"How is he, Madam?" Ron asked.
"We're getting close," Madam Pomfrey said. "I can feel it."
Standing at the foot of the bed, Neville Longbottom added in a hoarse, overused voice, "We've all been talking to him since dawn this morning. I'm running out of things to say."
Beside him, one hip hooked over the top of the footboard, arms crossed over his chest, Draco Malfoy sighed. "It's been eleven hours. What more can we do?"
Hermione stared long and hard at the dog, deep in thought. Padfoot twitched, whimpered, and made himself very small. He rested his head between his paws on the bedcovers beside Harry's right knee and let his ears droop.
"I have an idea," Hermione said. "Madam, would you leave Ron and I alone with him? For just a few minutes?"
The mediwitch scowled at the girl for several heartbeats before shrugging her agreement.
"Very well, Ms. Granger. I'll grasp at anything at this point."
Madam Pomfrey shooed Draco and Neville from the area. When the mediwitch reached for the dog, Hermione said, "Padfoot can stay."
"Very well. The rest of us will take a moment to grab something to eat. Call if there's any change."
And with that, Madam Pomfrey disappeared around the screens.
"What's your idea?" Ron asked.
In a voice barely louder than a whisper, Hermione called, "Padfoot, come here."
The dog jumped off the bed and came to stand directly next to Hermione.
"Sirius, Harry needs to hear your voice more than anyone else's. Change back into yourself and do what you can. Ron and I will keep watch. We'll give you enough warning to change back to your animagus form if anyone comes close."
The two teens moved over to the screen, peeking around the edge to get an idea of everyone's location. By the time they turned back around, the dog was gone. In his place a dark-haired man, his too-lean body showing the stresses of half-a-lifetime on the run, knelt near the head of Harry's bed. His robes, though patched and worn, were clean.
Sirius Black leaned close to whisper directly into his godson's lotion-covered ear.
"Harry? It's me, Sirius. I'm here, son. I'm right here with you. All your friends are here. Ron and Hermione, the Longbottom boy, even Draco Malfoy, though I'm not sure you would classify any Malfoy as a friend. Remus is here, as well as Arthur and Molly Weasley. We're all here with you, Harry. Won't you wake up for us? For me?"
He paused, searching for any sign of wakefulness. Finding none, he turned despairing eyes to the two teenagers.
"Keep talking to him," Hermione mouthed, her words accompanied by a 'keep going' swirl of her hand.
"Please wake up, lad. Let me know you're still with us. Neville Longbottom says you're lost in a great black void. That doesn't sound like a very pleasant place to be. It's much better here, all things considered. Please, Harry? Won't you open your eyes? Won't you come back to me? I ... I know I haven't been the kind of Godfather you that James and Lily meant for me to be. I wasn't here for you those first, hard years, but I'm here now, and I'll do anything I can to make it up to you. I-I love you, Harry Potter. I don't know what I'll do if you don't-"
A blue spark, like static electricity, cracked the air.
Sirius reared back, wide-eyed and slack-jawed with surprise. As a sign of change, it was rather unmistakable. He returned to his godson's bedside.
"Harry? Follow my voice. Let it guide you back. Come to me, Harry. Come home."
Blue streaks crackled in the air close to Harry's body, skipping across the surface of the medicinal coating. The snap and sizzle of discharged electricity overwhelmed the surprised voices from the other side of the partitions. The biting scent of raw, untamed ozone flooded the air.
Ron slapped Sirius Black's shoulder and said, "Everyone's coming! Change back to Padfoot, quick!"
Sirius returned to his animagus form without an instant to spare. The screens blew away on a gust of magic-powered wind. They impacted with the far wall hard enough to squash the frames flat and leave a permanent indentation in the stone.
Lightning streaked around the room in ever-larger and brighter streamers. Windows shattered despite powerful antibreaking charms. Burn marks scored finger-deep ruts into Hogwart's ancient stone walls.
All around the chamber, people dove for whatever cover they could find. Hagrid grabbed one of the dislodged doors and used it as a shield to protect Professor McGonagall and the adult Weasleys from deadly debris. It was all Albus Dumbledore and Remus Lupin could do to defend themselves and thethree petrified Muggles from the projectile storm. Cornilius Fudge dove beneath the other broken door and cowered under its dubious shelter.
A howling wind roared through the chamber, lifting anything light enough to float on its current. A hum, like tapping together two pieces of pure Waterford crystal, chimed over all other noise. It was a sound Neville Longbottom instantly recognized.
The pure note flared with a final, deafening blast of sound. Great blobs of lotion exploded away from Harry's body. The golden substance splattered everywhere, on walls, ceiling, floors, and furniture, on people and objects all around the room. The pattern was similar to when a dog shook to clean a coat covered in dripping mud. The sticky muck landed anywhere and everywhere, irregardless of power, titles, age, or prestige.
Silence descended, broken only by the occasional glop as blobs of dissipated lotion fell to the floor. One by one, wizards and Muggles abandoned their hiding places.
Hermione, Ron, and Padfoot wiggled from beneath Harry's bed. The black dog gave the afore-described shake. Clumps of golden, doughy goo shot away in all directions.
"Padfoot," Hermione scolded, having received a major portion of the impromptu shower, "do you mind?"
A soft moan drew everyone's attention to hospital wing's only true occupant.
Harry lay on the bed, his newly grown skin a rosy, fresh pink shade such as was left behind after the peel of a bad sunburn. His hair and eyebrows, though currently little more than dark peach fuzz, was clearly regrowing. Ron blushed on his friend's behalf and grabbed a fresh sheet from the bedside table to drape over Harry's naked body.
"Harry?" Ron called. "Mate, are you awake?"
Harry Potter stared at the faces that hovered around him, all with various expressions of delight or concern. Hermione's fingertips brushed across his forehead, a warm and comforting touch. Ron squeezed his right hand even as Neville did the same with his left.
Draco Malfoy and the adults, wizardfolk and Muggles alike looking frazzled and worn, gathered at the foot of his bed. Near the head of his bed, a black dog pranced and barked, his tail whipping deliriously. The dog-was it Padfoot-reared up, rested his paws on the bed, and gave Harry's face a resounding lick.
Some part of Harry's conscious mind noted the utterly demolished room but could find neither the interest nor the strength to question it. Harry looked up at Hermione, eyes unfocused.
"You did it? You ... made it back?"
"Yes, Harry," Hermione answered. "We found the Dawn's Glory and made it back in time."
"Don't you worry, Harry mate," Neville smiled. "The curse is broken. You're going to be just fine."
Ron gave the hand a firm squeeze. "Welcome back, mate."
Pain-free and safe for the first time in days, Harry Potter smiled at his best friends and let sleep carry him away.
A/N: Whew! Only one more chapter to go. This has been a Wild Ride! Of all the chapters in GTT, this was the hardest to write. I wanted to avoid all the typical cliche'd endings-Harry approaches a heavenly glow but is turned back by his Mum and Dad because he "still has so much to do," etc ...blech, way overused!
I hope I havejustified everyone's patience and faith in my writing. Thank you all for your wonderful reviews. They have made this a most enjoyable fanfic story to write.