Chapter Fourteen – The Pain of Dreams
Harry was weeping. His dreams, never particularly pleasant or kind, were particularly cruel this night. Despite the good news that had come with Remus' recovery, Harry, as always, felt a tremendous amount of responsibility and burden for the attack and near death of his friend.
Hours earlier, as he drifted off to sleep, he was feeling thankful that Remus was alive and going to make a full recovery. Perhaps that was what had caused his dreams to take the dark path that they had taken.
Shadows followed Harry wherever he walked in his dream. For a while he walked randomly, finding himself first at Privet Drive, then at the Burrow. He watched, an observer, as his blood relatives and then his real family went about their normal daily activities, eating meals, cleaning house, nothing out of the ordinary. But whenever Harry passed by a mirrored surface, out of the corner of his eye he saw something behind him. He would whirl about, trying to catch sight of what was following him, but it was never there when he turned his head.
Then Harry found himself back at the Ministry, in the dreaded chamber where Sirius had died. Harry was alone, but had the nagging sensation that he was being watched. With determination Harry approached the awful veil. Placing a cautious hand on the surface of the frame, Harry was surprised that it felt vaguely warm. He had expected it to be cold, like death.
A strange resolve welled up in his head, and Harry cautiously put a hand in the center of the veil. Disappointed, Harry saw his hand through the other side. He had not penetrated the veil. Angrily, Harry threw caution to the wind and put his head through the veil, trying to see what was beyond it.
That, of course, even in a dream, was a mistake.
The first thing Harry was aware of was the darkness. It was as if there never had been any light.
Ever.
Any memory he had of light or color was placed immediately in doubt as a fantasy or deranged imagination. The darkness was so absolute that his memory of light could never have actually been true.
Then Harry was cold. Not the refreshing cold of a brisk winter day after a refreshing walk near the Forbidden Forest. This cold was cruel. It was a deep, rattling coldness that sucked away the warmth of Harry's body and chilled him to the bone. His heart spluttered at the icy fluid coursing through his veins, his lungs spasmed in pain at the shock of the air as he gasped for breath, and his eyes clenched in their sockets as the bitterness of the cold leached away at his body.
It was, of course, the smell that hit Harry the hardest. The decay of death was all around him. The putrid, pungent odor of foulness overwhelmed his senses, grasping at his nose, overwhelming him. Harry gasped for air, and he swallowed death. Vomit spewed out of Harry's mouth, and it too had the taste of decay and filth. So Harry vomited again and again, until he could not stand from the weakness and the pain in his gut.
Harry was crumpled on the ground, shivering, groaning with agony, surrounded by a pool of his own filth. Dimly he was aware of the grating sound of footsteps coming near him.
"Harry." It was a voice Harry knew, but hadn't heard in over a year.
"C-Cedric," Harry whispered, disbelievingly.
"Yes," Cedric replied, "move along, I have little time."
Cedric turned and started walking briskly away. Harry pushed himself up, racing after Cedric.
"Bu-but Cedric, wait for a moment, please," Harry pleaded as he tried to catch up with his dead friend.
"No, Harry, I'm sorry. The dead wait for no one, especially you," Cedric replied.
Harry stared at the young, dead boy. "What do you mean?"
"The dead do not wait. Especially for you."
"I don't understand," cried Harry as Cedric resumed his rapid pace. Harry could see the retreating figure of Cedric's back, though he wasn't entirely sure where they were. He again picked up his pace to try to catch up, but this time the gap between the two boys did not close, and Harry found himself trailing further and further behind Cedric.
Gradually Harry heard the dim murmuring of voices buzzing at his ears. It was as if he was hearing a conversation from the far side of a Quidditch pitch, barely able to catch a word here and there, never enough to make out the conversation.
"...dead," a female voice whispered out of the noise.
"How?" a male voice asked.
"..blame.." Harry couldn't quite make out who was speaking.
"..pain," the female voice again.
"..fault!" a different male voice exclaimed.
The voices suddenly became clear and Harry realized that the voices were those of his parents.
And his godfather.
Tears welling in his eyes, Harry started running, hoping he was going in the right direction, determined to meet up with these three important people in his life. He ran as fast and hard as he could, too fast to hear the conversation, but able to determine that it was continuing. The voices grew louder as he ran, so Harry knew he was moving in the right direction.
Coming to an abrupt stop as he tripped over an unseen obstacle and fell to the ground, Harry looked up and saw the memorized faces of his mother, father, and godfather.
"Mum! Dad! Sirius!" Harry cried out in excitement. "I can't believe I found you. Did Cedric lead me to you?"
"I'm sorry son, but no. Now move along. We must be going," Harry's father said. "We have little time."
James bent and grabbed Harry by the arm and pulled him up to his feet. The touch was cold, and Harry's flesh shivered at the contact. Abruptly the three adults turned and started walking away from Harry.
"Mum, please, wait for a moment, I don't understand," Harry pleaded.
"I'm sorry son, but the dead wait for no one, especially for you." Harry's mother spoke the same words as Cedric had, with the same inflection in her voice. It was not the voice Harry remembered from his terrible duel with Voldemort, where she had helped him escape, or from his horrible memories of the night she and his father were killed. It was a cold, dispassionate voice with no warmth for Harry.
She turned away from Harry and continued walking with James and Sirius. Harry scrambled to keep up, but again he could not.
"Sirius, please, I don't understand," Harry cried, tears welling in his eyes.
Sirius turned his head over his shoulder, the spark of mischief gone, leaving a dull and vacant expression on his godfather's face.
"The dead do not wait," Sirius said. "Especially for you."
A gap had opened up between the three adults and Harry, and Harry again found himself running to try to catch up. But to no avail. Despite his efforts, Harry could not catch up to his parents or godfather and the distance slowly widened and he eventually lost sight of them.
Collapsing to the ground, exhausted, Harry started crying. He didn't understand where he was, he was cold, it was dark, and the stench was still terrible. Cedric had abandoned him. His parents had abandoned him. Sirius had abandoned him. Everyone that Harry loved had abandoned him.
After what seemed like an eternity in the cold darkness, Harry steeled himself, got on his feet and turned around, trying to make his way back to the entrance of the veil, hoping to climb out, somehow. Harry was not usually content to let events just happen, he had to take action. So stepping in to a slow jog, Harry made his way back along the way he came. Somehow he knew he was going in the right direction. Or he hoped he was.
It seemed like he was running for hours, but he kept up the unrelenting pace, determined to leave the veil or run until he found something or collapsed. His pace did not falter, but tears kept streaming out of his eyes as he replayed the casual coldness of his mother's voice in his head, over and over again.
As an orphan, Harry had always imagined a perfect life with his parents, if they had lived. They would love him immensely, and always care for him. They would never speak harshly to him and he would always be a good and respectful child. His mother would love him more than anything, and she would always look at him with love and her voice would always be warm and caring when speaking to him. But when he encountered his mother here, and felt the coldness coming from her voice, something deep within Harry was on the verge of breaking.
That certitude that he had been loved was something that laid the foundation for Harry's entire concept of self. Despite his Aunt Petunia's harshness, Dudley's cruelty, or Uncle Vernon's hatred, Harry had always known that his mother loved him. But when he was confronted with this cold visage of his mother, it cast into doubt that absolute central fact of Harry's life.
It was a terrible feeling, to have his entire world come crashing down around his shoulders making him question who he fundamentally was, and Harry was faced with this sensation as he ran and ran and ran.
Finally Harry saw a glimmer ahead of him. He ran faster toward the glimmer, and to his surprise it turned out to be Remus.
"Remus, what are you doing here?" Harry shouted. "You can't be here, you aren't dead."
"I am now," replied Remus. "But I really must be going. The dead do not wait." Remus kept walking, forcing Harry to turn to catch up with him.
"Wait, Remus, what do you mean you're dead, we saved your life this afternoon, you can't be dead."
"Sorry, Harry, time has no meaning here. I'm dead now, and I must be going. The dead do not wait, especially-"
"I know, I know. Especially for me. What does that mean? Why won't anyone tell me what that means?" Harry screamed to the sky and at the retreating back of Remus.
But no answer was forthcoming. So Harry ran, again.
Another glimmer appeared in front of him, and this time it was the veil itself. Harry ran up to it, only to see Ron and Hermione make their way through the veil, hand in hand.
"R-Ron? Hermione? What are you two doing here?" Harry spluttered, a sinking feeling dropping his stomach to his knees.
"We died Harry, what do you think," Hermione snapped at him. "Now if you'll excuse us, we must be going."
"But, I don't understand, how did you die?" Harry begged.
"I don't really know," replied Ron, coolness in his voice that Harry recognized from his mother's voice. "The last thing I saw was you and a then a green light. But we really have to go, we can't wait."
"You mean to say, the dead do not wait, especially for me," Harry snapped at his best friends.
"Well, yes," agreed Hermione. "But you know Ron, he never remembers anything. Now, I'm sorry Harry but we have to go."
Ron and Hermione started walking away from Harry in the direction that he had just come from.
Harry collapsed against the frame of the veil, helplessness overcoming him. He didn't understand what was going on, where he was, or what his friends or family were doing. His interaction with Ron and Hermione was disturbing. Harry realized that the people he loved were being told something that he couldn't share, something that impacted them even after death.
Harry looked through the veil and saw back into the room he had left. But it was not the same room he had left. When he had started there, the room was empty, desolate, except for him. The room he viewed from this side of the veil was filled with people forming a bizarre, winding line up to the face of the veil. Professor Dumbledore was there at the veil, explaining something to Arthur and Molly Weasley when Harry looked through the veil.
"I'm sorry Molly, but those are the rules. Once you cross through you cannot rest with the person responsible for your death. It is forbidden. The dead wait for no one. Especially the person who caused your death. Now, you must go, but don't worry, Ron and Hermione will be waiting, as will Remus and the others. Please, we have a lot of people to get through, if you will."
Dumbledore pointed to the veil, and sighed. Arthur and Molly nodded their heads, grabbed each others hands in determination and walked through the veil. As they crossed the threshold, Molly immediately saw Harry and great tears welled up in her eyes.
"Oh you poor dear, I'm so sorry Harry," she whispered.
"Come along dear, we must be going," Arthur urged her. "You heard what Dumbledore said."
"No," pleaded Molly. "Arthur, it's not right. It's just not right. It's not fair. Poor Harry, he'll be all alone. He couldn't really be responsible, could he? He couldn't have done it. Maybe I could just stay for a little?"
"No dear. The dead wait for no one, especially..."
"Me," said Harry with a bitter cry.
Pulling her arm, Arthur nodded his head and started walking away from Harry.
Anguish caused determination to spring anew in Harry and he charged for the veil. He expected to be rebuffed or pushed away, but to Harry's surprise he went rushing through and found himself running through the veil, back into the room where he had started.
Pushing past Dumbledore, Harry screamed, an inhuman sound that stunned the room into silence.
"Will someone please tell me what is going on here? I don't understand, please, someone, please tell me."
Dumbledore gently placed his hand on Harry's arm.
"I'm sorry Harry, but we don't have time. We must not delay here. Now if you will please stand aside. Ms. Weasley, Mr. Thomas, you are next?"
Ginny and Dean walked up to Dumbledore, tears in Ginny's eyes. Dean looked at Harry with daggers in his eyes.
"Yes sir," Dean said. "We were killed by Deatheaters because they thought it would upset Harry, so now we're dead, and it's his fault."
Dumbledore nodded his head and sighed. "Thank you, now off you go. Your parents will be expecting you Ms. Weasley. Please hurry."
"I'm sorry Harry," Ginny whispered, tears welling in her eyes. "I'm really sorry."
And Ginny and Dean stepped through the veil, disappearing in front of Harry's eyes. Dumbledore kept the line moving. Every witch or wizard Harry had ever met, including some he didn't know, resolutely marched past him and discussed their deaths with Dumbledore. Every death was related to Harry some how, in some manner. And Harry as responsible for them all.
Dozens, no, hundreds of witches and wizards marched past him. Dumbledore pointed them all through the veil until the last wizard walked through and disappeared. Then Dumbledore looked over at Harry with anguish in his eyes.
"I'm sorry Harry, but now it's my turn. I must go."
Dumbledore turned and walked towards the veil. Nodding again at Harry, Dumbledore stepped though the veil, disappearing through the misty surface. Infuriated, Harry dove through the veil, trying to grab on to Professor Dumbledore's arm, but instead of following through to the place beyond the veil behind Dumbledore, Harry found himself falling through on to the other side in the same room. It was not dark or cold or full of the people he had watched go through the veil. It was that same dreadful room.
Fury seething through his being, Harry stood up and walked up to the veil. Placing his hands on the sides of the portal, he stuck his head through, expecting to see the darkness. But he didn't. It was as if the veil was now closed off to him and he could not penetrate in to that realm again.
Slamming his hands against the veil in frustration and anger, Harry started screaming in rage.
"I DON'T UNDERSTAND! WHAT IS HAPPENING HERE?"
There was no response. There would never be any response. Every person Harry loved was already dead or had just gone through the veil. Every witch and wizard he ever knew, and even others he didn't, had marched silently through the veil. Even Dumbledore, with all his power and wisdom, had to go through the veil. And they all blamed him. Somehow he was responsible for all their deaths.
It wasn't such an impossible thought to Harry. He definitely blamed himself for Cedric's death. For his parents' deaths. And for Sirius' too. It wasn't a stretch for Harry to believe that he had caused, or would cause, directly or indirectly, the deaths of all those others that he cared for. In fact, deep down, Harry knew that those who were closest to him were likeliest to face serious and severe harm as a result of their connection to him.
Harry slumped against the frame of the veil and cried. He cried for his parents, for Cedric, for Sirius. He cried for all those who had gone through the veil, dead because of him.
And he cried for himself. Alone, as all orphans are, as all pawns of prophecy must always be. His sobs were gut wrenching and wracked at his body, his breath came in great heaving sobs, and Harry was so distraught that he almost didn't hear the hideously cruel laughter quietly echoing through the chamber. But as that terrible sound registered, the sense of loss intensified and Harry started howling in pain.
It was in this state, crying out of desperation and desolation that Harry found himself being forced awake by Ron.
"Harry, you have to stop, you have to wake up. It's only a dream, please Harry, stop, I'm here mate, I'm here," Ron whispered fervently, hoping to calm his friend and wake him up.
It was unnerving to Ron, to see his best friend reduced to a weeping mess. He relied on Harry's strength. Needed it, actually. Without being exposed to Harry's determined resolve, or Hermione's love, Ron didn't think he'd be able to make it through any given day. It was what made the three of them so close, so unique. They supported each other in good times, and in bad.
And this was one of the bad.
In fact, Ron thought it might be one of the worst.
Harry had been tossing and turning for hours, muttering to himself, and Ron could hear the emotions that Harry was going through: hope, fear, desperation, anxiety, fury, and then absolute devastation. It was intense and powerful, and Ron found himself waiting anxiously by Harry's side trying to snap his friend out of whatever dream was disturbing Harry's night.
Normally they would end quickly, only a half hour or so. And if it were one of THOSE dreams, the ones with Vol-, well, Him, those were just different, somehow. Ron knew this was not the same type of nightmare Harry had experienced before.
So he watched over his best friend, and waited. But when Harry started to actually weep, his body shaking with the pangs of desolation, Ron had to act. He started by calling out Harry's name, trying to wake him, but to no avail. Then he started nudging his shoulder, then rocking Harry back and forth. Nothing.
Finally, as Harry continued to weep, Ron got scared. Throwing caution to the wind, he physically lifted his friend halfway out of his bed and dropped him back to the bed. Harry's eyes sprang open, bloodshot from the tears and caked with grime from his fitful sleep.
Terror flashed through Harry's eyes, an animalistic sensation that unnerved Ron before sanity came back to Harry's face. Tears were still flowing and Harry looked at Ron with wonder.
"R-ron, you're alive?" he questioned in a shout.
Dumbfounded, Ron nodded. Harry reached out and tentatively touched Ron's arm, grasping it to make sure Ron was really there. Feeling the reality of Ron's arm, Harry sobbed again with relief and grasped hold of Ron in a fierce embrace, weeping with renewed vigor, but finally out of relief or joy or both.
It was Harry's strangled cry of surprise that must have alerted others that something was amiss. Suddenly Hermione and Ginny came bursting into the room, fear and worry etched into their faces. Fred and George were right behind them.
Cautiously they approached the two boys, and Hermione looked at Ron with questioning eyes.
"He had a nightmare and I just got him to wake up out of it," Ron said quietly. "It had to have been pretty bad for him to react like this."
"Do you think it was Voldemort?" Hermione asked.
Ron shook his head, slightly flinching at the name. "No, I don't think so. His head doesn't seem to be hurting him, but who knows, maybe it is something new?"
Hermione sighed and climbed on to the bed with them. Reaching around Harry's slender torso, she grabbed hold of him, squeezing to let him know she was there. She was startled when Harry frantically grabbed her hand and squeezed it, holding it close to his heart as he continued to cry. Squeezing his hand back, she rested her head on Ron's shoulder, tears welling in her eyes as she tried to comfort her friend.
Ginny and her twin brothers stood a silent vigil over the trio on the bed, flinching each time Harry gasped for breath. Ginny slowly reached her hands out into the hands of her twin brothers, drawing them close to her as her heart ached in pain for Harry's torment. With a soft sigh she nodded her head at Fred and gave him a look he understood immediately.
Fred quickly summoned a small box from his and George's room and opened it up. Music started silently filling the room, a soft, soothing tune that sounded of hope and calm. As the music played, Ginny started humming, and slowly started singing. Her voice was sweet and pure and filled the room. It was a light and airy tune, the words pleasant but without any real meaning. The meaning came from Ginny's voice. Her voice was filled with hope and friendship and love. She sang through the song until the beautiful melody started replaying itself. Hermione had stared in amazement at the power of this young girl's voice, but was astonished when Fred and George joined her in the song, singing harmony with her.
Their voices were not as perfect as Ginny's, but they complimented her voice and sang with a solemnity that surprised Hermione. It might have been the first time that she ever saw both of them being serious at the same time. But the real surprise for Hermione came when Ron joined in when they reached the chorus.
His tenor voice was strong and clear. His eyes misted over as he joined his siblings in their song, obviously a family song, and he grabbed a tighter hold of Harry as Ginny reached out with Fred and George to grab hold of Ron, Hermione, and Harry. Their voices blended together in a wonderful harmony that made Hermione smile. She could feel Harry's tense body slowly start to relax, and the sobs slowed as the music finally intruded into his desperate thoughts.
From the doorway two more voices joined in, Arthur and Molly, eyes glistening in wonderment as they watched their children close ranks around Harry. The song continued, the voices soaring with deep emotion. Harry relaxed even further and finally stopped crying.
Lifting his head, surprised at the gathering in his room and the wonderful harmony of the voices, Harry licked his lips and tried to speak.
"I-I'm sorry, I can-"
Molly crossed the room and placed a finger on his lips, cautioning him to silence.
"Shh, my dear, we can talk in the morning. You need your sleep. No one has ever had a nightmare after hearing the Weasley lullaby. Relax and go back to sleep. We'll stay and make sure you sleep well."
She rejoined the sweeping harmony while Arthur cast a quick sleepiness charm on Harry, carefully aiming so as not to hit any of the other children surrounding Harry. Harry's eyes glazed over and his head nodded down to his chest.
Hermione and Ron extricated themselves from Harry, and Ron gently made Harry comfortable on his bed. Standing up, grabbing Fred's free hand, the Weasley's formed a semi-circle around Harry's bed and completed their song. Slowly each voice dropped out of the harmony until Ginny's voice was left alone.
"Good night, sleep well," she said, slowly ending the song. The she bent over and placed a kiss on Harry's forehead.
***
"You never told me that you could sing like that," Hermione scolded Ron. "You have a lovely voice."
"Wemph ompl simp some times," Ron said, swallowing his breakfast. It was a quiet morning, the residents of the house were subdued as they waited for Harry to wake up. Of course nothing could stop Ron from needing to eat, so he begged his mother to start breakfast while they waited for Harry to wake up.
"Honestly Ron, do you even chew your food?" Hermione asked, her eyes rolling. "Now, before you take another bite, explain to me why you've never sung for me."
"Well, it's a family song, and it's the only one I sing," Ron said, warning Hermione with his eyes. "We only sing it if someone has a nightmare, so the last time I remember it being sung was several years ago, when Fred and George left for Hogwarts. Ginny woke up crying and Mum and Dad and I sang her back to sleep."
"Well," said Hermione, "I think it's just a lovely song, and you have a wonderful voice. And Ginny, she could sing for a living!"
Ginny happened to walk in to the kitchen at this precise moment, and stopped in the middle of the doorway, blushing.
"Thank you," she said simply. "But I don't think I could ever sing in public. I'd get nervous or something."
"No, really, Ginny," Hermione protested. "I think you have a lovely voice."
"Hey, Ginny," Ron interrupted. "How'd you remember all the words? You never had to sing it or someone, since you're the youngest. You just heard it from us."
"I sang it to myself every night during the summer after my first year, it was the only way I could get to sleep," Ginny said softly, looking down at the table.
Ron's face paled in comprehension. "Oh Gin, I'm sorry," he stammered.
"Don't," Ginny ordered. "Leave it. What's for breakfast?"
Hermione sensed the tension between brother and sister on this topic and decided to leave it alone. She had a decent idea of the genesis of that tension, and decided that today was not the day to try and solve it. Instead she pushed her chair over, making room for Ginny, and pulled a plate of pancakes over for her.
"Pancakes, bacon, juice. Your mom went all out, as usual. She just went upstairs to shower. She's very anxious for Harry to wake up, so I suggested she get that out of the way. Plus it gave her something to do besides worry."
Ginny laughed at the prospect of Hermione tactfully handling the overprotective Weasley mother hen. But, she thought, if anyone was a match for Molly Weasley, besides Ginny herself, it would be Hermione. Reaching for the pancakes, she piled a few on her plate and smothered them with syrup and butter and started to dig in.
Ron had resumed his attempt to devour as many pancakes as possible, so she and Hermione quietly talked as they ate about nothing in particular, both occasionally glancing towards the doorway in hopes of seeing Harry come through.
Fred and George walked through, rumpled with sleep still in their eyes. Grumbling, they sat down and summoned cups of coffee to their side.
"Whose great idea was it to get Mum in the shower?" Fred complained.
"Hermione's," Ron and Ginny said immediately, digging in to their food again.
George glared at Hermione. "Listen, apparently our little brother is so smitten with you that he seems to have forgotten the first, most important rule of survival in the Weasley family."
"Yes," chimed in Fred. "Never, ever encourage Mum-"
"..to get ready in the morning," chimed in George, Ron, and Ginny.
"Why?" asked Hermione.
"Because," groaned Fred. "Once Mum is up and ready for the day, we ALL need to be up and ready. It's only a matter of time before she sweeps us all up and gives us chores for the day."
As if on cue, Mrs. Weasley entered the kitchen.
"Good morning Fred, George, Ginny. So glad to see you three are up. Now, let's get you fed and then we will figure out what you are going to do today. You too Ronald."
Her children groaned with dread at the imagined chores their mother had in store for them, so none of them noticed the sly wink she threw at Hermione. Apparently this was a well established game for the Weasley's and Hermione smiled back at her.
Fred and George started protesting that they needed to head to their shop and didn't have time for any chores while Ron and Ginny complained that they needed a quiet day because of their interrupted sleep. The clamor got so loud that none of them noticed a tired looking Harry quietly walk in and pause at the doorway.
Smiling at the chaos, Harry leaned against the door frame and cleared his throat. It was obviously not loud enough for him to grab their attention, so he cleared his throat again.
"Oi," he shouted. "Some of us are just waking up, could you keep it down a little?"
"HARRY!" exclaimed the group in unison.
As a mob they rushed over to Harry and grabbed him in hugs. Hermione looked deep into his eyes with a question on her face.
"I'll be okay," Harry whispered. "It was just a dream. A bloody awful dream."
"I hope you are right," Hermione replied. "But we best tell Dumbledore, just in case."
Harry's eyes flashed and he clenched his jaw but then quickly relaxed and nodded his head. Turning to Ginny he smiled at her.
"You have an amazing voice Ginny. I didn't recognize it at first, but you have a lot of talent."
"I'm just glad it helped," she said blushing.
"Yeah, the Weasley lullaby cures all ailments," laughed George. "I wonder if we could figure out how to package it?"
"That's a great idea," agreed Fred. "Maybe we could put it in a Pensieve and then figure out how to tap into it through the music box."
The twins put their heads together, excitedly talking through the idea when Ron rolled his eyes.
"You okay mate?"
"Yeah, I guess so. It was pretty awful," Harry replied before he was engulfed in another hug from Mrs. Weasley as she dragged him to the table.
"Enough, we can discuss it later, but now you have to eat! You're nothing but skin and bones," said Mrs. Weasley. "Pancakes? Bacon? Juice?"
With each question she piled huge mounds of pancakes and bacon in front of him and poured a tall glass of juice. As she reached for the syrup, she squeezed his hand with affection.
"I suppose you drink coffee now?" Harry shook his head. "Okay then, what else would you like? Some hot cocoa? Ronald," she snapped, "put down that bacon, it's for Harry."
"Aw mum, he couldn't possibly eat all that."
Mrs. Weasley glared at her youngest son, her eyes flashing, but Harry waved her off.
"It is fine Mrs. Weasley, really," Harry said, a small smile creeping on his face. Immediately Mrs. Weasley's features softened and she smiled at Harry. Placing her hands gently on his cheeks, she placed a gentle kiss on the top of his head and quickly conjured up some hot cocoa for him.
"Well, then, since everyone is done eating, except Harry of course, I have a list of chores. We certainly can't expect Dobby and Winky to clean the house all by themselves, there are dozens of rooms for us to clean. I want this house spotless before you go back to school."
"Well, George, old boy, I guess we have to head to the shop. Business calls, after all," grinned Fred.
"Of course partner, of course. Another day another Galleon," George responded, smirking at Ron and Ginny.
"You two hold it right there," commanded their mother. "You'll stay and help us finish this house, then you can go to your shop. The others can't use magic and the rooms that are left are dangerous enough as it is, you wouldn't think of leaving us alone for that now would you?"
"Oh mum, we can't stay, we have a business to run," the twins protested in unison.
"I think I have a solution," interrupted Mr. Weasley from the doorway with an official. "I'm just about to make an important official decree. The age for limitation on the use of underage magic is a major inconvenience for the fight against Voldemort, and apparently the fight against dirt in Harry's own home. Accordingly, I'm changing the requirement. It is no longer based on age, but on experience. Once a witch or wizard passes their O.W.L.s, they can perform magic without restriction. Harry, Ron, and Hermione will be able to use their wands to help you Molly, so I think you can spare Fred and George today."
Noticing their smug grins, Mr. Weasley continued, his eyes twinkling with mischief. "But I daresay we'll leave a room or two for them to clean out this evening. After all, everyone must contribute."
Laughing at the crestfallen looks the twins gave him as they left the kitchen, Arthur Weasley grinned at his wife. His smile, however, disappeared when he glanced at his youngest child. Since her birth Arthur always had a soft spot for this precocious girl who had captivated his heart immediately. Whenever she wanted something, Arthur was helpless to say no.
Once, when Ginny was 5 years old she had insisted on learning how to fly. She didn't want her brothers to know, and Arthur knew Molly would frown on such escapades. So in the middle of the night the two of them snuck out to the backyard. Arthur patiently explained how to use the broom and the two of them finally took off into the night air. Ginny squealed with delight at the rushing wind and begged for a chance to take control of the broom. Against his better judgment he let her do it and she immediately went into a swirling loop around the house, giggling for all she was worth. After that night, once a week the two of them would do the same thing: sneak out of the house in the middle of the night and fly for a few hours. Molly never asked why the two of them were always tired one morning a week. Of course Arthur was wise enough to realize after years of marriage that nothing ever slipped by Molly's watchful eyes.
Snapping back to reality, Arthur looked innocently at his daughters glaring eyes.
"Sweetheart, don't fret, I have another trick up my sleeve."
"It better be good, father." Ginny was speaking with a calm but furious voice, one she had learned with great skill from her mother.
"Well, you know, I did happen to have a conversation with Mathilda Hopkirk when we changed the requirement and she did happen to draft a special dispensation in case that didn't impact all the people we wanted to help. Of course she left the name blank, so I was trying to figure out whom to give it to. Maybe it would be a good idea for me to think about this a little. I know that friend of yours, Luna, was going to some dangerous places this summer, maybe this would be helpful to her?"
Ginny's stern glare, another gift from her mother that caused Arthur to wonder how this tiny girl could be so imposing, forced Arthur to stop teasing her, despite the enjoyment he was having with it. Molly rolled her eyes at her husband and continued to clean the kitchen, smacking Ron's hand as he reached for the last piece of bacon on Harry's plate.
"All right my dear, alright. Let's see here, where's my quill? Oh dear, I can't find it. We'll just have to wait."
Ginny stomped over to the cupboard, threw the door open, and pulled out a quill her mother used for making notes while she cooked. Grinding her teeth as she returned to her father's side, she thrust the quill into his hand and pointed to the parchment.
With a flourish, Ginny's father affixed her name to the parchment and signed it with his official signature. The parchment glowed brightly for a moment and then returned to its normal state.
"There, it's official and a copy has been filed at my office. Now, I really must get to the office, I have two days worth of meetings just this morning alone."
Mr. Weasley snagged a piece of bacon from Harry's plate, bending his head quickly to look Harry in the eyes. Compassion flowed from Arthur's eyes with a questioning look at Harry. Harry looked at his best friend's father and his eyes moistened, but he shook the tears away and smiled weakly.
"I'm going to be fine," Harry whispered. "It was just-"Arthur interrupted him with a wink and placed his hand fondly on Harry's shoulder with a gentle squeeze.
"No explanations necessary, Harry. We'll always be here for you, all of us. Now, don't let Molly work you all too hard," he said to the rest of the room. "It should take a while for this house to be completely clean and I don't think that Dobby or Winky would approve of an entirely clean house, they'd get bored if we don't leave some rooms for them."
With a merry wave Arthur snatched another piece of bacon off Harry's plate and grinned at his wife's exasperated expression as she fretted over Harry's plate.
"Out, all of you!" she cried. "Harry, you stay and finish your food, no arguments. The rest of you, upstairs. Find a room that still needs cleaning and hop to it. And no cheating by calling Dobby or Winky to help you, they are doing enough as it is and you lot could use some practice now that it's legal. Now march!"
Saluting smartly the Weasley children and Hermione turned abruptly from the kitchen, leaving Harry and Mrs. Weasley alone. Harry realized that there was an agreement to tread carefully around him this morning, and for once he appreciated the reaction from his friends. Continuing to dig in to his food, Harry sighed in contentment as Mrs. Weasley busied herself with cleaning the kitchen.
After several minutes, Mrs. Weasley sat down next to Harry, poured him some more juice and smiled at him.
"Well, dear, I'm glad to see you eating this morning. Now, I hope you don't mind, but I've taken the liberty of owling Professor Dumbledore about last night."
She paused, giving Harry a moment to absorb this news. Harry realized that he wasn't upset that she had contacted Dumbledore. There was still a lot of work to do between them, to restore Harry's trust in the Headmaster, but over the past few weeks Harry was slowly learning that he couldn't try and do everything on his own and that, on occasion, he actually needed help. Offering a small smile to Mrs. Weasley, Harry nodded his head.
"That's fine, thanks," he said. "I certainly don't want to repeat last night."
Mrs. Weasley nodded her head and rested a hand fondly on Harry's arm.
"None of us do dear, you have been through so much," she said, her eyes welling a bit as she fought back tears. "But we're always here for you. Remember that. Now, before I get too maudlin, finish up your breakfast, you're much too thin. Dumbledore will be here shortly, so you may want to clean up before he gets here."
Harry nodded and quickly cleared his plate. Downing his glass of juice in one swallow, Harry thanked Mrs. Weasley and hurried up to his room for a quick shower. After changing into clean clothes that Dobby had laid out for him while in the shower, Harry headed downstairs to meet with Dumbledore.
Reaching the landing, Harry looked into the sitting room and saw that Dumbledore was already there, staring quietly out the window, watching Muggles walking by on their way to work or school. Smiling faintly at the mysterious clothing and hurried atmosphere, Dumbledore lifted his head up at the sound of Harry's footsteps.
"Good morning Harry," he said gravely. "I hope Molly explained that she contacted me this morning?"
"Good morning sir, and yes she did. Thank you for coming," Harry replied.
Dumbledore smiled a truly genuine smile and Harry saw that the ancient wizard quickly relaxed away some hidden tension.
"Any time, Harry, any time. I am grateful for all that we've accomplished together so far this summer, and I am pleased to be able to try to help you with this. You know the importance of keeping your mind free of Tom's influence and I fear that the past two incidents have me terribly worried."
"What do you mean two?" Harry asked with confusion.
"Remus' hearing is quite superb, he heard you muttering yesterday morning in your conversation with Tom. And last night could only have been a second attempt to bring you to submission. But we can't let that happen. I believe that with Minister Weasley's latest decree, we can safely resume your Occlumency training today."
"I won't let Snape do it, never again," Harry stated flatly.
"No, no I agree. I too have learned from my previous error. No, an old friend of mine has recently reminded me that he is an expert at Occlumency, better perhaps than I myself. I have asked him to join us here today in a few minutes."
"Here? At Headquarters? Is that safe?" Harry asked.
"I believe so. Zebediah is an old and trusted friend. I'll admit that we haven't spoken in years, but he recently contacted me after Cornelius admitted to the media that Voldemort had returned. He was worried about rumors he had read about you, and other stories as well. He was also quite concerned about you Harry. He doesn't know the prophecy, of course, but is aware that as the child of James and Lilly, you are at the center of this war, and he was very worried about your health.
"When I contacted him this morning, he was prepared to join us right away and reminded me that I should have contact him earlier. I suppose he was right, but I have learned from my errors."
Just then the doorbell rang and Dobby came screeching down the stairs to open the door.
"Welcome, welcome to the house of Mr. Harry Potter. Please come in." Dobby bowed elegantly and opened the door widely for the guest to enter. Dumbledore stood up and quickly walked over to greet his friend.
"Zebediah, a pleasure. Thank you for coming," he said warmly. "I'd like to introduce you to Harry Potter. Harry, meet my friend Zebediah."
Harry got out of his chair and turned to face Dumbledore and his friend. As he turned and looked at the two ancient wizards his jaw fell open in disbelief.
"M-Mr. Smith?" Harry asked incredulously.
Dumbledore narrowed his eyes suspiciously and turned his head towards the man Harry seemed to somehow know.
"You two have met?" he asked.
Harry was weeping. His dreams, never particularly pleasant or kind, were particularly cruel this night. Despite the good news that had come with Remus' recovery, Harry, as always, felt a tremendous amount of responsibility and burden for the attack and near death of his friend.
Hours earlier, as he drifted off to sleep, he was feeling thankful that Remus was alive and going to make a full recovery. Perhaps that was what had caused his dreams to take the dark path that they had taken.
Shadows followed Harry wherever he walked in his dream. For a while he walked randomly, finding himself first at Privet Drive, then at the Burrow. He watched, an observer, as his blood relatives and then his real family went about their normal daily activities, eating meals, cleaning house, nothing out of the ordinary. But whenever Harry passed by a mirrored surface, out of the corner of his eye he saw something behind him. He would whirl about, trying to catch sight of what was following him, but it was never there when he turned his head.
Then Harry found himself back at the Ministry, in the dreaded chamber where Sirius had died. Harry was alone, but had the nagging sensation that he was being watched. With determination Harry approached the awful veil. Placing a cautious hand on the surface of the frame, Harry was surprised that it felt vaguely warm. He had expected it to be cold, like death.
A strange resolve welled up in his head, and Harry cautiously put a hand in the center of the veil. Disappointed, Harry saw his hand through the other side. He had not penetrated the veil. Angrily, Harry threw caution to the wind and put his head through the veil, trying to see what was beyond it.
That, of course, even in a dream, was a mistake.
The first thing Harry was aware of was the darkness. It was as if there never had been any light.
Ever.
Any memory he had of light or color was placed immediately in doubt as a fantasy or deranged imagination. The darkness was so absolute that his memory of light could never have actually been true.
Then Harry was cold. Not the refreshing cold of a brisk winter day after a refreshing walk near the Forbidden Forest. This cold was cruel. It was a deep, rattling coldness that sucked away the warmth of Harry's body and chilled him to the bone. His heart spluttered at the icy fluid coursing through his veins, his lungs spasmed in pain at the shock of the air as he gasped for breath, and his eyes clenched in their sockets as the bitterness of the cold leached away at his body.
It was, of course, the smell that hit Harry the hardest. The decay of death was all around him. The putrid, pungent odor of foulness overwhelmed his senses, grasping at his nose, overwhelming him. Harry gasped for air, and he swallowed death. Vomit spewed out of Harry's mouth, and it too had the taste of decay and filth. So Harry vomited again and again, until he could not stand from the weakness and the pain in his gut.
Harry was crumpled on the ground, shivering, groaning with agony, surrounded by a pool of his own filth. Dimly he was aware of the grating sound of footsteps coming near him.
"Harry." It was a voice Harry knew, but hadn't heard in over a year.
"C-Cedric," Harry whispered, disbelievingly.
"Yes," Cedric replied, "move along, I have little time."
Cedric turned and started walking briskly away. Harry pushed himself up, racing after Cedric.
"Bu-but Cedric, wait for a moment, please," Harry pleaded as he tried to catch up with his dead friend.
"No, Harry, I'm sorry. The dead wait for no one, especially you," Cedric replied.
Harry stared at the young, dead boy. "What do you mean?"
"The dead do not wait. Especially for you."
"I don't understand," cried Harry as Cedric resumed his rapid pace. Harry could see the retreating figure of Cedric's back, though he wasn't entirely sure where they were. He again picked up his pace to try to catch up, but this time the gap between the two boys did not close, and Harry found himself trailing further and further behind Cedric.
Gradually Harry heard the dim murmuring of voices buzzing at his ears. It was as if he was hearing a conversation from the far side of a Quidditch pitch, barely able to catch a word here and there, never enough to make out the conversation.
"...dead," a female voice whispered out of the noise.
"How?" a male voice asked.
"..blame.." Harry couldn't quite make out who was speaking.
"..pain," the female voice again.
"..fault!" a different male voice exclaimed.
The voices suddenly became clear and Harry realized that the voices were those of his parents.
And his godfather.
Tears welling in his eyes, Harry started running, hoping he was going in the right direction, determined to meet up with these three important people in his life. He ran as fast and hard as he could, too fast to hear the conversation, but able to determine that it was continuing. The voices grew louder as he ran, so Harry knew he was moving in the right direction.
Coming to an abrupt stop as he tripped over an unseen obstacle and fell to the ground, Harry looked up and saw the memorized faces of his mother, father, and godfather.
"Mum! Dad! Sirius!" Harry cried out in excitement. "I can't believe I found you. Did Cedric lead me to you?"
"I'm sorry son, but no. Now move along. We must be going," Harry's father said. "We have little time."
James bent and grabbed Harry by the arm and pulled him up to his feet. The touch was cold, and Harry's flesh shivered at the contact. Abruptly the three adults turned and started walking away from Harry.
"Mum, please, wait for a moment, I don't understand," Harry pleaded.
"I'm sorry son, but the dead wait for no one, especially for you." Harry's mother spoke the same words as Cedric had, with the same inflection in her voice. It was not the voice Harry remembered from his terrible duel with Voldemort, where she had helped him escape, or from his horrible memories of the night she and his father were killed. It was a cold, dispassionate voice with no warmth for Harry.
She turned away from Harry and continued walking with James and Sirius. Harry scrambled to keep up, but again he could not.
"Sirius, please, I don't understand," Harry cried, tears welling in his eyes.
Sirius turned his head over his shoulder, the spark of mischief gone, leaving a dull and vacant expression on his godfather's face.
"The dead do not wait," Sirius said. "Especially for you."
A gap had opened up between the three adults and Harry, and Harry again found himself running to try to catch up. But to no avail. Despite his efforts, Harry could not catch up to his parents or godfather and the distance slowly widened and he eventually lost sight of them.
Collapsing to the ground, exhausted, Harry started crying. He didn't understand where he was, he was cold, it was dark, and the stench was still terrible. Cedric had abandoned him. His parents had abandoned him. Sirius had abandoned him. Everyone that Harry loved had abandoned him.
After what seemed like an eternity in the cold darkness, Harry steeled himself, got on his feet and turned around, trying to make his way back to the entrance of the veil, hoping to climb out, somehow. Harry was not usually content to let events just happen, he had to take action. So stepping in to a slow jog, Harry made his way back along the way he came. Somehow he knew he was going in the right direction. Or he hoped he was.
It seemed like he was running for hours, but he kept up the unrelenting pace, determined to leave the veil or run until he found something or collapsed. His pace did not falter, but tears kept streaming out of his eyes as he replayed the casual coldness of his mother's voice in his head, over and over again.
As an orphan, Harry had always imagined a perfect life with his parents, if they had lived. They would love him immensely, and always care for him. They would never speak harshly to him and he would always be a good and respectful child. His mother would love him more than anything, and she would always look at him with love and her voice would always be warm and caring when speaking to him. But when he encountered his mother here, and felt the coldness coming from her voice, something deep within Harry was on the verge of breaking.
That certitude that he had been loved was something that laid the foundation for Harry's entire concept of self. Despite his Aunt Petunia's harshness, Dudley's cruelty, or Uncle Vernon's hatred, Harry had always known that his mother loved him. But when he was confronted with this cold visage of his mother, it cast into doubt that absolute central fact of Harry's life.
It was a terrible feeling, to have his entire world come crashing down around his shoulders making him question who he fundamentally was, and Harry was faced with this sensation as he ran and ran and ran.
Finally Harry saw a glimmer ahead of him. He ran faster toward the glimmer, and to his surprise it turned out to be Remus.
"Remus, what are you doing here?" Harry shouted. "You can't be here, you aren't dead."
"I am now," replied Remus. "But I really must be going. The dead do not wait." Remus kept walking, forcing Harry to turn to catch up with him.
"Wait, Remus, what do you mean you're dead, we saved your life this afternoon, you can't be dead."
"Sorry, Harry, time has no meaning here. I'm dead now, and I must be going. The dead do not wait, especially-"
"I know, I know. Especially for me. What does that mean? Why won't anyone tell me what that means?" Harry screamed to the sky and at the retreating back of Remus.
But no answer was forthcoming. So Harry ran, again.
Another glimmer appeared in front of him, and this time it was the veil itself. Harry ran up to it, only to see Ron and Hermione make their way through the veil, hand in hand.
"R-Ron? Hermione? What are you two doing here?" Harry spluttered, a sinking feeling dropping his stomach to his knees.
"We died Harry, what do you think," Hermione snapped at him. "Now if you'll excuse us, we must be going."
"But, I don't understand, how did you die?" Harry begged.
"I don't really know," replied Ron, coolness in his voice that Harry recognized from his mother's voice. "The last thing I saw was you and a then a green light. But we really have to go, we can't wait."
"You mean to say, the dead do not wait, especially for me," Harry snapped at his best friends.
"Well, yes," agreed Hermione. "But you know Ron, he never remembers anything. Now, I'm sorry Harry but we have to go."
Ron and Hermione started walking away from Harry in the direction that he had just come from.
Harry collapsed against the frame of the veil, helplessness overcoming him. He didn't understand what was going on, where he was, or what his friends or family were doing. His interaction with Ron and Hermione was disturbing. Harry realized that the people he loved were being told something that he couldn't share, something that impacted them even after death.
Harry looked through the veil and saw back into the room he had left. But it was not the same room he had left. When he had started there, the room was empty, desolate, except for him. The room he viewed from this side of the veil was filled with people forming a bizarre, winding line up to the face of the veil. Professor Dumbledore was there at the veil, explaining something to Arthur and Molly Weasley when Harry looked through the veil.
"I'm sorry Molly, but those are the rules. Once you cross through you cannot rest with the person responsible for your death. It is forbidden. The dead wait for no one. Especially the person who caused your death. Now, you must go, but don't worry, Ron and Hermione will be waiting, as will Remus and the others. Please, we have a lot of people to get through, if you will."
Dumbledore pointed to the veil, and sighed. Arthur and Molly nodded their heads, grabbed each others hands in determination and walked through the veil. As they crossed the threshold, Molly immediately saw Harry and great tears welled up in her eyes.
"Oh you poor dear, I'm so sorry Harry," she whispered.
"Come along dear, we must be going," Arthur urged her. "You heard what Dumbledore said."
"No," pleaded Molly. "Arthur, it's not right. It's just not right. It's not fair. Poor Harry, he'll be all alone. He couldn't really be responsible, could he? He couldn't have done it. Maybe I could just stay for a little?"
"No dear. The dead wait for no one, especially..."
"Me," said Harry with a bitter cry.
Pulling her arm, Arthur nodded his head and started walking away from Harry.
Anguish caused determination to spring anew in Harry and he charged for the veil. He expected to be rebuffed or pushed away, but to Harry's surprise he went rushing through and found himself running through the veil, back into the room where he had started.
Pushing past Dumbledore, Harry screamed, an inhuman sound that stunned the room into silence.
"Will someone please tell me what is going on here? I don't understand, please, someone, please tell me."
Dumbledore gently placed his hand on Harry's arm.
"I'm sorry Harry, but we don't have time. We must not delay here. Now if you will please stand aside. Ms. Weasley, Mr. Thomas, you are next?"
Ginny and Dean walked up to Dumbledore, tears in Ginny's eyes. Dean looked at Harry with daggers in his eyes.
"Yes sir," Dean said. "We were killed by Deatheaters because they thought it would upset Harry, so now we're dead, and it's his fault."
Dumbledore nodded his head and sighed. "Thank you, now off you go. Your parents will be expecting you Ms. Weasley. Please hurry."
"I'm sorry Harry," Ginny whispered, tears welling in her eyes. "I'm really sorry."
And Ginny and Dean stepped through the veil, disappearing in front of Harry's eyes. Dumbledore kept the line moving. Every witch or wizard Harry had ever met, including some he didn't know, resolutely marched past him and discussed their deaths with Dumbledore. Every death was related to Harry some how, in some manner. And Harry as responsible for them all.
Dozens, no, hundreds of witches and wizards marched past him. Dumbledore pointed them all through the veil until the last wizard walked through and disappeared. Then Dumbledore looked over at Harry with anguish in his eyes.
"I'm sorry Harry, but now it's my turn. I must go."
Dumbledore turned and walked towards the veil. Nodding again at Harry, Dumbledore stepped though the veil, disappearing through the misty surface. Infuriated, Harry dove through the veil, trying to grab on to Professor Dumbledore's arm, but instead of following through to the place beyond the veil behind Dumbledore, Harry found himself falling through on to the other side in the same room. It was not dark or cold or full of the people he had watched go through the veil. It was that same dreadful room.
Fury seething through his being, Harry stood up and walked up to the veil. Placing his hands on the sides of the portal, he stuck his head through, expecting to see the darkness. But he didn't. It was as if the veil was now closed off to him and he could not penetrate in to that realm again.
Slamming his hands against the veil in frustration and anger, Harry started screaming in rage.
"I DON'T UNDERSTAND! WHAT IS HAPPENING HERE?"
There was no response. There would never be any response. Every person Harry loved was already dead or had just gone through the veil. Every witch and wizard he ever knew, and even others he didn't, had marched silently through the veil. Even Dumbledore, with all his power and wisdom, had to go through the veil. And they all blamed him. Somehow he was responsible for all their deaths.
It wasn't such an impossible thought to Harry. He definitely blamed himself for Cedric's death. For his parents' deaths. And for Sirius' too. It wasn't a stretch for Harry to believe that he had caused, or would cause, directly or indirectly, the deaths of all those others that he cared for. In fact, deep down, Harry knew that those who were closest to him were likeliest to face serious and severe harm as a result of their connection to him.
Harry slumped against the frame of the veil and cried. He cried for his parents, for Cedric, for Sirius. He cried for all those who had gone through the veil, dead because of him.
And he cried for himself. Alone, as all orphans are, as all pawns of prophecy must always be. His sobs were gut wrenching and wracked at his body, his breath came in great heaving sobs, and Harry was so distraught that he almost didn't hear the hideously cruel laughter quietly echoing through the chamber. But as that terrible sound registered, the sense of loss intensified and Harry started howling in pain.
It was in this state, crying out of desperation and desolation that Harry found himself being forced awake by Ron.
"Harry, you have to stop, you have to wake up. It's only a dream, please Harry, stop, I'm here mate, I'm here," Ron whispered fervently, hoping to calm his friend and wake him up.
It was unnerving to Ron, to see his best friend reduced to a weeping mess. He relied on Harry's strength. Needed it, actually. Without being exposed to Harry's determined resolve, or Hermione's love, Ron didn't think he'd be able to make it through any given day. It was what made the three of them so close, so unique. They supported each other in good times, and in bad.
And this was one of the bad.
In fact, Ron thought it might be one of the worst.
Harry had been tossing and turning for hours, muttering to himself, and Ron could hear the emotions that Harry was going through: hope, fear, desperation, anxiety, fury, and then absolute devastation. It was intense and powerful, and Ron found himself waiting anxiously by Harry's side trying to snap his friend out of whatever dream was disturbing Harry's night.
Normally they would end quickly, only a half hour or so. And if it were one of THOSE dreams, the ones with Vol-, well, Him, those were just different, somehow. Ron knew this was not the same type of nightmare Harry had experienced before.
So he watched over his best friend, and waited. But when Harry started to actually weep, his body shaking with the pangs of desolation, Ron had to act. He started by calling out Harry's name, trying to wake him, but to no avail. Then he started nudging his shoulder, then rocking Harry back and forth. Nothing.
Finally, as Harry continued to weep, Ron got scared. Throwing caution to the wind, he physically lifted his friend halfway out of his bed and dropped him back to the bed. Harry's eyes sprang open, bloodshot from the tears and caked with grime from his fitful sleep.
Terror flashed through Harry's eyes, an animalistic sensation that unnerved Ron before sanity came back to Harry's face. Tears were still flowing and Harry looked at Ron with wonder.
"R-ron, you're alive?" he questioned in a shout.
Dumbfounded, Ron nodded. Harry reached out and tentatively touched Ron's arm, grasping it to make sure Ron was really there. Feeling the reality of Ron's arm, Harry sobbed again with relief and grasped hold of Ron in a fierce embrace, weeping with renewed vigor, but finally out of relief or joy or both.
It was Harry's strangled cry of surprise that must have alerted others that something was amiss. Suddenly Hermione and Ginny came bursting into the room, fear and worry etched into their faces. Fred and George were right behind them.
Cautiously they approached the two boys, and Hermione looked at Ron with questioning eyes.
"He had a nightmare and I just got him to wake up out of it," Ron said quietly. "It had to have been pretty bad for him to react like this."
"Do you think it was Voldemort?" Hermione asked.
Ron shook his head, slightly flinching at the name. "No, I don't think so. His head doesn't seem to be hurting him, but who knows, maybe it is something new?"
Hermione sighed and climbed on to the bed with them. Reaching around Harry's slender torso, she grabbed hold of him, squeezing to let him know she was there. She was startled when Harry frantically grabbed her hand and squeezed it, holding it close to his heart as he continued to cry. Squeezing his hand back, she rested her head on Ron's shoulder, tears welling in her eyes as she tried to comfort her friend.
Ginny and her twin brothers stood a silent vigil over the trio on the bed, flinching each time Harry gasped for breath. Ginny slowly reached her hands out into the hands of her twin brothers, drawing them close to her as her heart ached in pain for Harry's torment. With a soft sigh she nodded her head at Fred and gave him a look he understood immediately.
Fred quickly summoned a small box from his and George's room and opened it up. Music started silently filling the room, a soft, soothing tune that sounded of hope and calm. As the music played, Ginny started humming, and slowly started singing. Her voice was sweet and pure and filled the room. It was a light and airy tune, the words pleasant but without any real meaning. The meaning came from Ginny's voice. Her voice was filled with hope and friendship and love. She sang through the song until the beautiful melody started replaying itself. Hermione had stared in amazement at the power of this young girl's voice, but was astonished when Fred and George joined her in the song, singing harmony with her.
Their voices were not as perfect as Ginny's, but they complimented her voice and sang with a solemnity that surprised Hermione. It might have been the first time that she ever saw both of them being serious at the same time. But the real surprise for Hermione came when Ron joined in when they reached the chorus.
His tenor voice was strong and clear. His eyes misted over as he joined his siblings in their song, obviously a family song, and he grabbed a tighter hold of Harry as Ginny reached out with Fred and George to grab hold of Ron, Hermione, and Harry. Their voices blended together in a wonderful harmony that made Hermione smile. She could feel Harry's tense body slowly start to relax, and the sobs slowed as the music finally intruded into his desperate thoughts.
From the doorway two more voices joined in, Arthur and Molly, eyes glistening in wonderment as they watched their children close ranks around Harry. The song continued, the voices soaring with deep emotion. Harry relaxed even further and finally stopped crying.
Lifting his head, surprised at the gathering in his room and the wonderful harmony of the voices, Harry licked his lips and tried to speak.
"I-I'm sorry, I can-"
Molly crossed the room and placed a finger on his lips, cautioning him to silence.
"Shh, my dear, we can talk in the morning. You need your sleep. No one has ever had a nightmare after hearing the Weasley lullaby. Relax and go back to sleep. We'll stay and make sure you sleep well."
She rejoined the sweeping harmony while Arthur cast a quick sleepiness charm on Harry, carefully aiming so as not to hit any of the other children surrounding Harry. Harry's eyes glazed over and his head nodded down to his chest.
Hermione and Ron extricated themselves from Harry, and Ron gently made Harry comfortable on his bed. Standing up, grabbing Fred's free hand, the Weasley's formed a semi-circle around Harry's bed and completed their song. Slowly each voice dropped out of the harmony until Ginny's voice was left alone.
"Good night, sleep well," she said, slowly ending the song. The she bent over and placed a kiss on Harry's forehead.
***
"You never told me that you could sing like that," Hermione scolded Ron. "You have a lovely voice."
"Wemph ompl simp some times," Ron said, swallowing his breakfast. It was a quiet morning, the residents of the house were subdued as they waited for Harry to wake up. Of course nothing could stop Ron from needing to eat, so he begged his mother to start breakfast while they waited for Harry to wake up.
"Honestly Ron, do you even chew your food?" Hermione asked, her eyes rolling. "Now, before you take another bite, explain to me why you've never sung for me."
"Well, it's a family song, and it's the only one I sing," Ron said, warning Hermione with his eyes. "We only sing it if someone has a nightmare, so the last time I remember it being sung was several years ago, when Fred and George left for Hogwarts. Ginny woke up crying and Mum and Dad and I sang her back to sleep."
"Well," said Hermione, "I think it's just a lovely song, and you have a wonderful voice. And Ginny, she could sing for a living!"
Ginny happened to walk in to the kitchen at this precise moment, and stopped in the middle of the doorway, blushing.
"Thank you," she said simply. "But I don't think I could ever sing in public. I'd get nervous or something."
"No, really, Ginny," Hermione protested. "I think you have a lovely voice."
"Hey, Ginny," Ron interrupted. "How'd you remember all the words? You never had to sing it or someone, since you're the youngest. You just heard it from us."
"I sang it to myself every night during the summer after my first year, it was the only way I could get to sleep," Ginny said softly, looking down at the table.
Ron's face paled in comprehension. "Oh Gin, I'm sorry," he stammered.
"Don't," Ginny ordered. "Leave it. What's for breakfast?"
Hermione sensed the tension between brother and sister on this topic and decided to leave it alone. She had a decent idea of the genesis of that tension, and decided that today was not the day to try and solve it. Instead she pushed her chair over, making room for Ginny, and pulled a plate of pancakes over for her.
"Pancakes, bacon, juice. Your mom went all out, as usual. She just went upstairs to shower. She's very anxious for Harry to wake up, so I suggested she get that out of the way. Plus it gave her something to do besides worry."
Ginny laughed at the prospect of Hermione tactfully handling the overprotective Weasley mother hen. But, she thought, if anyone was a match for Molly Weasley, besides Ginny herself, it would be Hermione. Reaching for the pancakes, she piled a few on her plate and smothered them with syrup and butter and started to dig in.
Ron had resumed his attempt to devour as many pancakes as possible, so she and Hermione quietly talked as they ate about nothing in particular, both occasionally glancing towards the doorway in hopes of seeing Harry come through.
Fred and George walked through, rumpled with sleep still in their eyes. Grumbling, they sat down and summoned cups of coffee to their side.
"Whose great idea was it to get Mum in the shower?" Fred complained.
"Hermione's," Ron and Ginny said immediately, digging in to their food again.
George glared at Hermione. "Listen, apparently our little brother is so smitten with you that he seems to have forgotten the first, most important rule of survival in the Weasley family."
"Yes," chimed in Fred. "Never, ever encourage Mum-"
"..to get ready in the morning," chimed in George, Ron, and Ginny.
"Why?" asked Hermione.
"Because," groaned Fred. "Once Mum is up and ready for the day, we ALL need to be up and ready. It's only a matter of time before she sweeps us all up and gives us chores for the day."
As if on cue, Mrs. Weasley entered the kitchen.
"Good morning Fred, George, Ginny. So glad to see you three are up. Now, let's get you fed and then we will figure out what you are going to do today. You too Ronald."
Her children groaned with dread at the imagined chores their mother had in store for them, so none of them noticed the sly wink she threw at Hermione. Apparently this was a well established game for the Weasley's and Hermione smiled back at her.
Fred and George started protesting that they needed to head to their shop and didn't have time for any chores while Ron and Ginny complained that they needed a quiet day because of their interrupted sleep. The clamor got so loud that none of them noticed a tired looking Harry quietly walk in and pause at the doorway.
Smiling at the chaos, Harry leaned against the door frame and cleared his throat. It was obviously not loud enough for him to grab their attention, so he cleared his throat again.
"Oi," he shouted. "Some of us are just waking up, could you keep it down a little?"
"HARRY!" exclaimed the group in unison.
As a mob they rushed over to Harry and grabbed him in hugs. Hermione looked deep into his eyes with a question on her face.
"I'll be okay," Harry whispered. "It was just a dream. A bloody awful dream."
"I hope you are right," Hermione replied. "But we best tell Dumbledore, just in case."
Harry's eyes flashed and he clenched his jaw but then quickly relaxed and nodded his head. Turning to Ginny he smiled at her.
"You have an amazing voice Ginny. I didn't recognize it at first, but you have a lot of talent."
"I'm just glad it helped," she said blushing.
"Yeah, the Weasley lullaby cures all ailments," laughed George. "I wonder if we could figure out how to package it?"
"That's a great idea," agreed Fred. "Maybe we could put it in a Pensieve and then figure out how to tap into it through the music box."
The twins put their heads together, excitedly talking through the idea when Ron rolled his eyes.
"You okay mate?"
"Yeah, I guess so. It was pretty awful," Harry replied before he was engulfed in another hug from Mrs. Weasley as she dragged him to the table.
"Enough, we can discuss it later, but now you have to eat! You're nothing but skin and bones," said Mrs. Weasley. "Pancakes? Bacon? Juice?"
With each question she piled huge mounds of pancakes and bacon in front of him and poured a tall glass of juice. As she reached for the syrup, she squeezed his hand with affection.
"I suppose you drink coffee now?" Harry shook his head. "Okay then, what else would you like? Some hot cocoa? Ronald," she snapped, "put down that bacon, it's for Harry."
"Aw mum, he couldn't possibly eat all that."
Mrs. Weasley glared at her youngest son, her eyes flashing, but Harry waved her off.
"It is fine Mrs. Weasley, really," Harry said, a small smile creeping on his face. Immediately Mrs. Weasley's features softened and she smiled at Harry. Placing her hands gently on his cheeks, she placed a gentle kiss on the top of his head and quickly conjured up some hot cocoa for him.
"Well, then, since everyone is done eating, except Harry of course, I have a list of chores. We certainly can't expect Dobby and Winky to clean the house all by themselves, there are dozens of rooms for us to clean. I want this house spotless before you go back to school."
"Well, George, old boy, I guess we have to head to the shop. Business calls, after all," grinned Fred.
"Of course partner, of course. Another day another Galleon," George responded, smirking at Ron and Ginny.
"You two hold it right there," commanded their mother. "You'll stay and help us finish this house, then you can go to your shop. The others can't use magic and the rooms that are left are dangerous enough as it is, you wouldn't think of leaving us alone for that now would you?"
"Oh mum, we can't stay, we have a business to run," the twins protested in unison.
"I think I have a solution," interrupted Mr. Weasley from the doorway with an official. "I'm just about to make an important official decree. The age for limitation on the use of underage magic is a major inconvenience for the fight against Voldemort, and apparently the fight against dirt in Harry's own home. Accordingly, I'm changing the requirement. It is no longer based on age, but on experience. Once a witch or wizard passes their O.W.L.s, they can perform magic without restriction. Harry, Ron, and Hermione will be able to use their wands to help you Molly, so I think you can spare Fred and George today."
Noticing their smug grins, Mr. Weasley continued, his eyes twinkling with mischief. "But I daresay we'll leave a room or two for them to clean out this evening. After all, everyone must contribute."
Laughing at the crestfallen looks the twins gave him as they left the kitchen, Arthur Weasley grinned at his wife. His smile, however, disappeared when he glanced at his youngest child. Since her birth Arthur always had a soft spot for this precocious girl who had captivated his heart immediately. Whenever she wanted something, Arthur was helpless to say no.
Once, when Ginny was 5 years old she had insisted on learning how to fly. She didn't want her brothers to know, and Arthur knew Molly would frown on such escapades. So in the middle of the night the two of them snuck out to the backyard. Arthur patiently explained how to use the broom and the two of them finally took off into the night air. Ginny squealed with delight at the rushing wind and begged for a chance to take control of the broom. Against his better judgment he let her do it and she immediately went into a swirling loop around the house, giggling for all she was worth. After that night, once a week the two of them would do the same thing: sneak out of the house in the middle of the night and fly for a few hours. Molly never asked why the two of them were always tired one morning a week. Of course Arthur was wise enough to realize after years of marriage that nothing ever slipped by Molly's watchful eyes.
Snapping back to reality, Arthur looked innocently at his daughters glaring eyes.
"Sweetheart, don't fret, I have another trick up my sleeve."
"It better be good, father." Ginny was speaking with a calm but furious voice, one she had learned with great skill from her mother.
"Well, you know, I did happen to have a conversation with Mathilda Hopkirk when we changed the requirement and she did happen to draft a special dispensation in case that didn't impact all the people we wanted to help. Of course she left the name blank, so I was trying to figure out whom to give it to. Maybe it would be a good idea for me to think about this a little. I know that friend of yours, Luna, was going to some dangerous places this summer, maybe this would be helpful to her?"
Ginny's stern glare, another gift from her mother that caused Arthur to wonder how this tiny girl could be so imposing, forced Arthur to stop teasing her, despite the enjoyment he was having with it. Molly rolled her eyes at her husband and continued to clean the kitchen, smacking Ron's hand as he reached for the last piece of bacon on Harry's plate.
"All right my dear, alright. Let's see here, where's my quill? Oh dear, I can't find it. We'll just have to wait."
Ginny stomped over to the cupboard, threw the door open, and pulled out a quill her mother used for making notes while she cooked. Grinding her teeth as she returned to her father's side, she thrust the quill into his hand and pointed to the parchment.
With a flourish, Ginny's father affixed her name to the parchment and signed it with his official signature. The parchment glowed brightly for a moment and then returned to its normal state.
"There, it's official and a copy has been filed at my office. Now, I really must get to the office, I have two days worth of meetings just this morning alone."
Mr. Weasley snagged a piece of bacon from Harry's plate, bending his head quickly to look Harry in the eyes. Compassion flowed from Arthur's eyes with a questioning look at Harry. Harry looked at his best friend's father and his eyes moistened, but he shook the tears away and smiled weakly.
"I'm going to be fine," Harry whispered. "It was just-"Arthur interrupted him with a wink and placed his hand fondly on Harry's shoulder with a gentle squeeze.
"No explanations necessary, Harry. We'll always be here for you, all of us. Now, don't let Molly work you all too hard," he said to the rest of the room. "It should take a while for this house to be completely clean and I don't think that Dobby or Winky would approve of an entirely clean house, they'd get bored if we don't leave some rooms for them."
With a merry wave Arthur snatched another piece of bacon off Harry's plate and grinned at his wife's exasperated expression as she fretted over Harry's plate.
"Out, all of you!" she cried. "Harry, you stay and finish your food, no arguments. The rest of you, upstairs. Find a room that still needs cleaning and hop to it. And no cheating by calling Dobby or Winky to help you, they are doing enough as it is and you lot could use some practice now that it's legal. Now march!"
Saluting smartly the Weasley children and Hermione turned abruptly from the kitchen, leaving Harry and Mrs. Weasley alone. Harry realized that there was an agreement to tread carefully around him this morning, and for once he appreciated the reaction from his friends. Continuing to dig in to his food, Harry sighed in contentment as Mrs. Weasley busied herself with cleaning the kitchen.
After several minutes, Mrs. Weasley sat down next to Harry, poured him some more juice and smiled at him.
"Well, dear, I'm glad to see you eating this morning. Now, I hope you don't mind, but I've taken the liberty of owling Professor Dumbledore about last night."
She paused, giving Harry a moment to absorb this news. Harry realized that he wasn't upset that she had contacted Dumbledore. There was still a lot of work to do between them, to restore Harry's trust in the Headmaster, but over the past few weeks Harry was slowly learning that he couldn't try and do everything on his own and that, on occasion, he actually needed help. Offering a small smile to Mrs. Weasley, Harry nodded his head.
"That's fine, thanks," he said. "I certainly don't want to repeat last night."
Mrs. Weasley nodded her head and rested a hand fondly on Harry's arm.
"None of us do dear, you have been through so much," she said, her eyes welling a bit as she fought back tears. "But we're always here for you. Remember that. Now, before I get too maudlin, finish up your breakfast, you're much too thin. Dumbledore will be here shortly, so you may want to clean up before he gets here."
Harry nodded and quickly cleared his plate. Downing his glass of juice in one swallow, Harry thanked Mrs. Weasley and hurried up to his room for a quick shower. After changing into clean clothes that Dobby had laid out for him while in the shower, Harry headed downstairs to meet with Dumbledore.
Reaching the landing, Harry looked into the sitting room and saw that Dumbledore was already there, staring quietly out the window, watching Muggles walking by on their way to work or school. Smiling faintly at the mysterious clothing and hurried atmosphere, Dumbledore lifted his head up at the sound of Harry's footsteps.
"Good morning Harry," he said gravely. "I hope Molly explained that she contacted me this morning?"
"Good morning sir, and yes she did. Thank you for coming," Harry replied.
Dumbledore smiled a truly genuine smile and Harry saw that the ancient wizard quickly relaxed away some hidden tension.
"Any time, Harry, any time. I am grateful for all that we've accomplished together so far this summer, and I am pleased to be able to try to help you with this. You know the importance of keeping your mind free of Tom's influence and I fear that the past two incidents have me terribly worried."
"What do you mean two?" Harry asked with confusion.
"Remus' hearing is quite superb, he heard you muttering yesterday morning in your conversation with Tom. And last night could only have been a second attempt to bring you to submission. But we can't let that happen. I believe that with Minister Weasley's latest decree, we can safely resume your Occlumency training today."
"I won't let Snape do it, never again," Harry stated flatly.
"No, no I agree. I too have learned from my previous error. No, an old friend of mine has recently reminded me that he is an expert at Occlumency, better perhaps than I myself. I have asked him to join us here today in a few minutes."
"Here? At Headquarters? Is that safe?" Harry asked.
"I believe so. Zebediah is an old and trusted friend. I'll admit that we haven't spoken in years, but he recently contacted me after Cornelius admitted to the media that Voldemort had returned. He was worried about rumors he had read about you, and other stories as well. He was also quite concerned about you Harry. He doesn't know the prophecy, of course, but is aware that as the child of James and Lilly, you are at the center of this war, and he was very worried about your health.
"When I contacted him this morning, he was prepared to join us right away and reminded me that I should have contact him earlier. I suppose he was right, but I have learned from my errors."
Just then the doorbell rang and Dobby came screeching down the stairs to open the door.
"Welcome, welcome to the house of Mr. Harry Potter. Please come in." Dobby bowed elegantly and opened the door widely for the guest to enter. Dumbledore stood up and quickly walked over to greet his friend.
"Zebediah, a pleasure. Thank you for coming," he said warmly. "I'd like to introduce you to Harry Potter. Harry, meet my friend Zebediah."
Harry got out of his chair and turned to face Dumbledore and his friend. As he turned and looked at the two ancient wizards his jaw fell open in disbelief.
"M-Mr. Smith?" Harry asked incredulously.
Dumbledore narrowed his eyes suspiciously and turned his head towards the man Harry seemed to somehow know.
"You two have met?" he asked.