Hiding Under the Ninth Earth
Book 03 : Epithalamium
Part III : The Beginning of Forever
Chapter Forty Six : Connecting Impressions
Monday 3 November 2003 Continued
Harry stood by the staff room door for a few moments after Severus left, feeling like he'd lost something precious. And not because of all the strange happenings of the day; Harry had meant what he'd said about his total faith in his mate. If Severus assured him the situation was temporary, then he would live with it - whatever it was, for however long it lasted. He might not like it, but when had anything been simple in his life, or Severus' for that matter? In the larger scheme of things, these latest circumstances were nothing more than obstacles to be resolved over time.
No, it was the flick of his husband's glance across the room before he'd kissed him that made his heart sink, a subtle check of wary eyes making certain they were alone, or at best, amongst understanding friends. Would the rest of their lives be spent looking over their shoulders just so they could share a chaste affection without censure? If he were honest with himself, the only possible answer was 'yes', and he found that revelation depressing.
What he really missed was the total freedom of expression Hana had given them.
The thought occupied his mind as he made his way to the infirmary, his promise to Severus a nuisance, but one he intended to honour. Wondering why, when he could just as easily heal himself, he inexplicably thought of Kahea's blessing - the gift of communion and of taking care of each other.
He smiled, thinking Severus would call this one of his 'hop-scotched leaps of logic'. He had no idea how the two ideas were connected. However, it was something to think about. When he'd first heard her words, he'd assumed it meant they needed to stay open to each other and protect one another. Now, he was beginning to think it meant more than that. He let it roll around in his head the rest of the trip to the infirmary.
After enduring Poppy's clucking ministrations and mild scolding about grabbing an animal clearly telling him not to, he asked her if she recalled what Kahea' had said; surprisingly she quoted it almost verbatim. He'd forgot the other half of his friend's message, the part about the everyday tasks and cherishing the quiet times. Poppy, giving him one of her knowing looks, remained silent until she finished, then as he was about to leave, stopped him with a hand on his arm. "Harry, dear, the most important communication is done without words." She patted his cheek, giving him light push to get him moving.
As he approached the door, she called out, "Especially when the words are inadequate for what one needs to say." He turned around to ask her what she'd meant, but she'd already disappeared. He shrugged and left to meet with Albus.
At the bottom of the headmaster's stair, he stopped as it all fell together - he finally saw the connections, and they floored him. Leaning weakly against the wall, trying to capture the vital, elusive impressions before they slipped away from him, he realised the two ladies were right; tending the little things, like keeping a simple promise (even when one could unobtrusively ignore it), helped resolve the bigger issues by establishing and maintaining trust and affection.
It was the small, private gestures, the everyday occurrences, which made their limited time together special and expressed more than words or public gestures ever could. Warm beds and cold feet, a dressing gown left handy on a cold winter morn, a glass of brandy and quiet conversation, even a stolen kiss - these taken-for-granted moments, each one building onto the next, formed a solid, safe haven that, when remembered later, made the hard times bearable. And even a little slip of thoughtlessness, just one time this latent trust was broken, no matter how small, could be the one thing to eventually weaken the structure until, as one neglect begat another, the whole came tumbling down in a flurry of misunderstandings and dissatisfaction when subjected to pressure from without.
He saw now he'd had it all wrong. Marriage didn't mean that he could just do and say as he pleased under the mistaken assumption that Severus would always understand and forgive him, if necessary. No, marriage meant that Severus was the one person, if no other, to whom he must always give his full attention. He must pay heed to his own words and actions because he'd vowed he'd never consciously hurt Severus, that he would, without question, love and cherish him, and would always be the partner to whom Severus could bare his soul without harmful recourse, should he choose to do so. Their marriage had not gained him any special privileges with regards to Severus' life, other than the expectation that he would receive an equal consideration, an equal thoughtfulness from his spouse should the need arise.
Sweet Merlin, it was all so simple and yet so daunting now that he understood. It was their unstinting trust, tempered in the fires of their devotion to and love for one another, that defined the shape, the whole of the shelter they'd built with their marriage. Their bond was the glue holding it together, giving them the stalwart means to face, with deep understanding and respect, those things from their past and present that threatened or defined their future.
He breathed a sigh of relief that, completely by accident - or maybe it was instinct - he'd got it right again. His blind trust in Severus over what was currently happening had been the right thing to give, perhaps the only thing he could have under the circumstances considering how little control Severus seemed to have over it. He shuddered to think how much damage he could have caused had he not listened to his heart.
But he also saw that blind trust was not always a good thing, either. Sometimes one must challenge the actions of the other, especially if those actions caused pain or hurt, whether physical or mental. He supposed the real trick was to be able to distinguish, with thought, when one's challenge was truly necessary, a means to understanding, or more the result of a frivolous, selfish desire to know more than what was really needed. With a jolt he realised the former was born out of concern, the latter out of control and domination.
Severus obviously already knew this - witness his disappearance this morning. His lover had left him sleeping - not to conceal anything from him, but rather because he'd needed the time to think, apart from him, to make it clear in his own mind before he discussed it with him, that is, if he could. To his surprise, the thought that Severus needed time away didn't hurt; instead, it made sense.
And there was the crux of it. Some thing or other (and he suspected Albus was involved somehow - it just smelled like him) had placed Severus in a dilemma he was hard-pressed to solve. Harry chuckled to himself - seemed it was time for his husband's much-vaunted Slytherin tendencies to find a way of worming out of this mess; he just needed to find the patience and humour to survive long enough to find out what it was.
Well, there was no time to speculate on it any further; he was already late and Albus awaited him. Smiling at the whimsy, he called out the password, "Haupia," and in better spirits, rode the stairs to the top. The door opened of its own accord and Harry entered in time to catch Albus taking a dose of his medication. A bit alarmed, he started to walk over to him, but Albus caught his breath quickly enough to say, "No, no need, my boy. I'm fine."
"Uh huh - and I'm a naked witch," he responded, going around the desk. Albus looked like hell.
"You could be yet - it's only a spell away," the old man replied grumpily. As Harry placed his fingers on his temples, he heard him mutter, "I'd be happy to help, but Severus would kill me for certain."
Ignoring his amusement, Harry sank into the pathways. While on the surface Albus' health looked no worse than before, something felt wrong. He let himself 'float' a while, a healer's equivalent of a leisurely stroll, and before long he knew what the problem was, if not the cause. It was subtle, but he'd been in here often enough that if he were shown two sets of the same function side-by-side, he'd be able to choose Albus' every time. Once he knew what he was looking for, he started charting the damage and, when finished, was appalled.
Overall, Albus' magic was seriously depleted, the connections dull and almost transparent in places. And not in a 'I'll-get-over-it' fashion, but as a permanent condition; Albus might recover, but he would not be getting some of this back - ever.
Powerless to help him, Harry pulled out, giving him the hug he always did when he healed him, even though this time he had not. He went back to his seat, saying nothing for a long time as he thought of the ramifications of Albus without his magic.
"Well?" Albus asked quietly, breaking the silence.
"I don't want to know how you did it - it's done and there is nothing I can do to mitigate it." When Albus nodded, he added, "What I want to know is how long ago this started and do not tell me you don't know what I'm talking about."
The old man hesitated and then, obviously choosing his words with care, said, "I have not slept well these last couple of nights. I have had - Hogwarts business - I had to take care of - before I am no longer able to do so."
"Well, I hope you're finished, because I'm not certain you can survive another effort of this magnitude." With impatience, he added, "You know - our old quarters were just fine. There was no need to get so elaborate."
"Ah, unfortunately, my boy, there was. And making them proved to be the simple part; I had able assistance." He stared out the window, saying softly, "No, it's what's coming that will be so difficult; however, I will soon enough have all the rest I could ever want."
A fragment of memory teased the edge of Harry's consciousness. A column, a swirl of magic, the terrible power of the headmaster, Severus standing fierce and beautiful - it was so hard to concentrate around the headache starting in his temples. The familiar voice saying softly, "I am sorry, Harry, but Severus has to decide it alone - for now," made him look up.
Fuck! Albus was staring at him steadily through his spectacles...
"No," Harry whispered. "Please, don't, Albus." The resistance to the Legilimency was as automatic as breathing; after all, that had been the purpose of the years of lessons, but with the growing agony in his head and neck, it was almost more effort than he could muster.
"Do you enjoy suffering, Harry? It's not going to go away and will only get progressively worse each time," Albus said, his face twisted with impatience. With an obvious effort , he smoothed his features until only genuine concern filled them and his voice as he said quietly, "Please, let me help you. For now, this is the only way I can."
He struggled against the soothing tendrils of thought from the headmaster, urging him to forget even as they mitigated some of the pain. "Damn it, first Dobby, now you. How can you both do this to me?"
Sweating, Albus ground out, "Dobby did not erase your memory; I asked him to stop you from remembering."
"Why?"
"To protect you. And if I could answer more, we wouldn't be going through all this." He broke off gasping. Taking several steadying breaths, he continued, his voice thready and strained. "Please, Harry, don't fight me. I don't have the strength for it right now."
Harry was hard-pressed to let the old man have his way. He hated Legilimency, always had, and that aversion was what had prompted the agreement he and Severus had made concerning its use - or not. He barely tolerated his mate employing it, let alone - "Tell me why I should trust you in this?"
"Earlier this morning, Severus and I devised a possible means to circumvent this compulsion to silence and protect you at the same time, but you have to give us some time to set it in motion. Let us protect you for once, please. I promise: you'll get your memories back; I'm not going to remove them, just suppress them. You already know how to break the Legilimency compulsion once you know it's there. And you will, as well as get your answers. All you have to do is ask," he finished cryptically.
Yes, he knew very well how to break it. After all, Albus had taught him extensively the techniques necessary; it wasn't any more difficult than breaking an Imperius. However, he was upset Albus had meant to do it without his consent, though, and would have, had he not been so weak at the moment.
However, he did want to get to the bottom of all this, and if this was the only way - did he really have a choice? With a sigh of frustration, he stopped resisting. Closing his eyes, he said, "Just do it, damn it!" and opened his mind. He barely heard the quietly spoken, "Thank the gods," before his whole vision filled with a white haziness.
The familiar voice saying softly, "I see now why Severus refused to use Legilimency with you," made him open his eyes. Albus was staring at him steadily through his spectacles - why did Albus seem so forlorn?
And why was he daydreaming in the headmaster's office when they had so much to discuss?
Harry shook his head to clear a lingering fog. Why was he so worried? Albus didn't look too bad and his check revealed nothing out of the ordinary except a blatant need for sleep. Perhaps...? "You'll live, but not if you keep pushing yourself, like that duel the other day; you should avoid such strenuous activity and save the upset for something useful."
Dumbledore chuckled appreciatively as he prepared Harry a cup of tea from the service on his desk. "It had a purpose, and it was purging, not upsetting."
He supposed it could have been at that. However... "You owe Severus an apology, you know."
Startled blue eyes met his. "Why on earth would I need to do that?"
He must be joking, right? "Because you upset him!" he exclaimed heatedly.
Albus' brow furrowed in genuine confusion as he handed Harry his cup. "Did he seem upset afterwards?"
"Of course he..." Harry stopped when he thought back on it. He opened his mouth to protest, then closed it with a snap. Was he really going to buy this? Damn him, the man was right! Shaking his head in disbelief, Harry muttered, "No, Severus seemed calmer, more relaxed afterwards." More affectionate, too, if truth be known. The memory brought with it a small, wicked smile.
"Then it seems to me it was good for - all - of us," Albus said sagely, his eyes twinkling over his spectacles.
Harry consoled himself with the memory of Poppy dragging the old bugger away by his beard. "Well, the next time you decide to do something for the betterment of 'all of us' could you at least give 'all of us' a little warning?"
His face almost serious, Albus replied, "I don't think there will be a next time, but as it was, I didn't know that was going to happen; it just did."
Right. He believed that about as much as he believed that the old man would never manipulate them again. His scepticism colouring his voice, Harry rejoined, "So you didn't provoke him?"
Albus laughed, setting down his cup. "Oh, yes, I did, but I thought we would just have an argument." He shook his head. "I confess I didn't expect him to attack. Quite invigorating, actually."
Harry didn't feel like verbally sparring with him anymore, so it was with some asperity that he said, "He didn't attack, you did."
"I did?" If the stunned expression was anything to go by, that made twice in one day he'd managed to shock the headmaster.
"Yes, you did - with the silencing spell, if memory serves."
Comprehension dawned on Albus' face and it was Harry's turn to close his mouth after Albus replied, "Actually, I cast it to keep him from saying something I knew he would regret later - one of those 'I-wish-I-could-take-it-back' moments. Must admit I was surprised when he broke through - it was one of my better spells."
A broken spell. Harry squirmed in his seat, trying to look unaffected by the casual remark.
Sharp eyes pierced his subterfuge. "Ah, young Harry. What happened after we left?"
Harry didn't want to say. "There were a lot of things that happened," he temporized, taking a sip of his tea, hoping to hold the subject at bay. "Like I decided to give Sirius' bike to Remus."
Taken aback, Albus asked, "Why? Don't you like it?"
Fortified by the small time he'd taken to rehearse a reply, Harry said earnestly, "Albus, I can't begin to express how much I appreciated you bringing the bike to me in Hana. And yes, it means a lot to me. However, I'm afraid that with as little time as we will get to spend out there, I won't get much of a chance to ride it, and I don't want it to get ruined by the climate or through disuse. So I thought that, if you didn't mind, Remus would appreciate it just as much and would have far more opportunities to use it than I."
Seemed Albus believed him as much as he'd believed Albus. "Ah, that is - understandable. And it is your bike now; there is no need to seek my approval, although I agree, Remus is a fine choice."
"I know. It just seemed - courteous - to at least let you know after all the trouble you went to send it to me."
Albus chuckled. "The 'trouble' was all Arthur's, but I thank you for that." He picked up his tea, wincing as he took a sip. Two warming spells later it steamed to his obvious satisfaction.
"Now, back to what started this line of thought, young man," Albus said with mock severity, "your redirection is almost as good as Severus'. I seem to recall we were discussing something you'd broken? Like a spell?."
Well, it had been worth a try. Harry nodded faintly. He really didn't want to talk about this.
"I wouldn't feel bad about it - happens to all of us when we're upset enough - witness Severus with the silencing spell." His smile broad, he cajoled, "Come now, tell Uncle Albus all about it."
Annoying old goat. "I-broke-a-Transfiguration-spell," Harry said in a rush.
Albus stared at him over the rim of his cup.
Damn, this seat was getting uncomfortable. He sighed. "Severus transfigured me into a spotted pig." His hands sketched a space in the air about the size of a loaf of fresh baked bread. "A small pot-belly."
Albus raised a brow, his eyes merry with amusement.
"You had to be there," Harry muttered. "Anyway, he pulled my tail," Albus' lips twitched, "most annoying, but I didn't start getting angry til he said he wasn't sure he could turn me back."
Albus bit his lower lip and set his cup down on the saucer.
"But what really tore it was Severus saying I was cute, if you can believe it, and Ben saying I would make a good pet once I was house-trained."
Albus lost it. Leaning back in his chair, his hands holding his stomach, great peals of laughter shook his thin frame. Harry felt the fool, but before long he grinned at the infectious sound and soon they were both laughing like a pair of idiots. He had to admit, it did sound very silly in the retelling.
"So, you changed yourself back?" Albus asked, taking his spectacles off to wipe the tears from his eyes.
Harry glanced everywhere but him. "Yeah."
A bit more serious, Albus leaned forward in his chair, his expression sympathetic. "And this obviously upset you?"
Harry held his gaze as he mumbled, "Yeah."
"Why?" he asked, settling the frames of his spectacles back on his long, thin nose.
"Got a week or two?" Harry murmured before saying, "I don't do transfigurations very well. I've always had difficulty envisioning the Schema steps necessary in any one transformation. The only thing in which I've ever had any real success was changing Cerise's tea to Firewhiskey and that was because Severus obtained the steps from Minerva before I started. Once I have those I do all right - in fact it's dead easy, but I just can't see them for myself initially."
"Not an unusual difficulty; it's one of the reasons Transfigurations is one of the lesser used branches of magic except for the simplest of things. However, that does not explain why breaking one was so upsetting." He waved his hand. "Go on."
"I've been thinking about that, ad nauseum, as Severus would say, and I believe it's because I did it unknowingly." He paused, gauging Dumbledore's reaction, which thankfully was neutral. It at least gave him the impetus to continue. "In order for me undo a transfiguration in the normal sense, I would have to already know the Schema changes in order to reverse it without someone else casting the counterspell to change me back."
"True. But..."
"But, I didn't know those steps in this instance - and neither did Severus, so there were no clues there. I didn't consciously change myself back, either. It just happened. If that's not a lack of control, then I don't know what is. I can't help thinking that if one were making such a huge change, one should at least be aware of one's involvement in it. This is why I was so upset. Not only did I not know how I did it, but I hadn't even known I had, until it was done, and only then after Severus had told me what I'd done. It's the anger thing all over again and I'm terrified I'll inadvertently hurt someone by doing it to them without even knowing I did it."
Albus was silent for some moments. Leaning back in his chair, he observed, "I can understand your concerns, but I want you to think back to all the times you've lost control over the years due to your anger. Was anyone, other than yourself, physically harmed by it?"
Harry shook his head and stopped - well... "Once. When Severus was hurt teaching me the Unforgivables."
"Ah, yes, but the anger and hate are necessary to cast those types of spells and he was deliberately goading you to make you angry enough to be successful. However, be that as it may, by your own admission, the danger, so far, has been limited to your person and Severus?"
"Well - yes."
"And Severus has informed you that, with your binding, you cannot harm him now, nor he you?" Harry nodded. "Then it seems to me that, since the 'others' seem to be fairly safe from your - lack of control - as you call it, you should concentrate more on the usefulness of your newfound ability, regardless of how you learned it. Not many can, you know."
Harry wasn't convinced, but nonetheless, he asked, "Can you?"
Albus chuckled. "No, my talents lie in the more external things, like charms and chairs..." his eyes were merry, "...you know - 'foolish wand-waving'." They shared a laugh before he continued, "Yours seem to be more internal - like your healing, your work with the bonds, curse-breaking, and now this. Add to that your latent empathic abilities and it's a formidable mix."
Huh? "Empathic abilities?"
Smiling, Albus said, "Come now, Harry, you've always been able to read people rather well, even when they don't give you much to work with - you have ever since you were a boy. And don't you dream-share with Severus?"
Well, yes, they had for years, even before they'd got together. "But I thought that was because of all the Occlumency we'd practiced together and later, our bond."
"I'm certain they both had some influence, but I don't think you understand just how strong a Legilimens Severus really is."
"I know he knocked me on my arse more often than not," Harry supplied drolly.
Despite his benign expression, Dumbledore was quite serious when he said, "I can't break through his defenses unless he lets me and neither could Voldemort, even when Severus slept. Think about it; your offensive talents as a Legilimens and a Occlumens are weak at best and yet you managed to break through Severus' defenses several times. I've always believed this was partially because, even then, he trusted you more than he ever did me and, of course, there was no trust whatsoever with the Dark Lord, but a good part of it was actually due to your latent ability to read people, to slip past their defenses to see who and what they really are."
"Didn't do me much good with Malfoy, did it?" Harry commented bitterly.
Albus sighed. "Harry, Draco poisoned you with a potion, one that bewitched your mind. However, your instincts when you first met him were to not trust him and, in this, you were spot on. That boy's a lunatic." When Harry chuckled, Albus asked, "Haven't you ever wondered why you make your leaps of faith - or logic - when it comes to people? Why people others did not trust, you did? Like Severus?"
Or Albus, too. Harry thoughtfully drank his tea, draining it. "Never really much thought on it."
"Well, this is why you need to be trained." Albus refilled his cup, offering him a biscuit.
Shaking his head, Harry squirmed in his chair, remembering why he'd wanted to talk to Albus in the first place.
"What is it?" Albus asked gently.
"Have you thought about what I asked before I left?"
Obviously pretending to misunderstand, he asked, "About what?"
Wincing at the hot tea, Harry said, "About training me as a Schematamagus."
"Yes, I have." He stared out the window. "Which is why I have spoken to Septimius amongst others."
There it was. Albus was going to refuse him. Severus had the right of it after all. "You don't want to?" Harry asked in a small voice.
His eyes kind when they returned to his face, the headmaster said, "That's hard to answer. Yes, I want to - very much so. It would please me to pass on my legacy to you."
"But..."
"Harry, please understand," he began, holding up his hand to forestall the protest forming on Harry's lips. "It will take years to fully train you, far more years than I have left in me. Breaking the rhythm of this course of study is not a good idea." He looked pained. "Nor am I capable anymore of teaching you some of the skills you need, such as the curse-breaking. For that you need someone skilled in incantations as well as mitigation, especially with those of the class used on Severus. There are few who can cast them, you know, each to his or her own talents, and fewer who can cast most, if not all. There are none who can consistently break them; most of us who try depend on dumb luck and blind talent with varied results. You need someone who has a broad range of experience to teach you the forms, as well as having a Schematamagus knowledge to show you the other side of it."
Harry thought on it, reluctantly seeing his point. "I remember Quiesta saying there were only three people who could cast that kind of curse - Avery, Voldemort, and some third party, who is 'too old'."
"That she knows of," Albus said, chuckling. "There are a few of whom she may not be aware as they don't exactly advertise their abilities. Don't forget, it's usually the rogues who cast these types of curses and with Death Eaters being out of vogue..." He let his voice trail off while Harry chuckled appreciatively. "Professor Augustus Gimbley at St. John's is one such person, but in speaking to him, he is unwilling to take on a new student right now, even you. I suppose it was a long shot, but he is very old and says he wants to retire. The others I considered now reside, or perhaps I should say, hide on the continent and are thus unavailable."
"So is he the 'old one' Quiesta spoke of?"
Albus laughed outright. "No, that would be Septimius. He's never tried to hide his mastery of the dark arts; it is our great fortune he is an unbending man with no intrinsic loyalties - good or bad - outside of his own research and teaching. He is the one man Voldemort was happy to leave neutral."
Harry asked, "Is he a Legilimens?"
"I don't believe so - he would be totally insufferable otherwise. If a Legilimens and Schematamagus are rare, the combination of the two is almost unheard of..." he chuckled "...except for me, of course."
"And you're not insufferable?" Harry asked, barely containing his smile.
Shaking his head, Albus smiled. "Oh, Harry, you've only seen my good side."
And somehow Harry knew that was the truth.
"So what did he say?"
"Who?" Albus asked, pouring himself another cup of tea.
"The 'other' old man," Harry replied impatiently.
"First, tell me why you want me to teach you."
Harry had never really thought himself as reserved as Severus, but given how the words stuck in his throat... "I, um, don't want split my time too much, what with my work and all..."
I want to spend as much time with you as I can - before you're - gone.
"...and I need to be available for your check-ups..."
I don't want to go too far away from you.
"...and despite our arguments, I do trust you..."
I love you, you damned old bugger. Is that so much?.
"Hmmm. Sound reasons - all of them. Personally, I'd looked at it as, well, almost like a father passing down a skill to a son," Albus mused, his understanding eyes never leaving Harry's face.
Harry hung his head. "Yeah, sort of."
"Well, I must admit the bond we've forged with your healing me would make the teaching go faster..."
Feeling a bit of hope, Harry raised his head.
"...and it would be a way for me to repay you for the extra time you've given me..."
Harry sat forward and grinned.
"...and it would be, in its own manner, a means to keep us even..."
Harry didn't know if he could survive Albus' penchant for drama. "...so I suppose I'll take you on..."
"Thank you, Albus!"
"...if you'll also study under Septimius, who says he is willing to teach you, but only after he's tested you."
What? "Tests - me?"
A grin on Dumbledore's face was something worth remembering. "Yes, to see if you're - how did he phrase it? - 'worth wasting his time'."
Why that son-of-a... he'd be damned if he studied...
Albus interrupted his thoughts with a snort. "I warn you, he's a bit of a curmudgeon; makes Severus look like a pussycat." His lips twitched and Harry couldn't help but think of McGonagall's transfiguration of Severus in the infirmary. "Yes, well, you know what I mean."
While humourous, it did little to reassure him; even Severus seemed wary of Septimius. He was trying to remember what his husband had said about that old man when he became aware that his old man was speaking again. "...and I think you need to do some further studying with Quiesta."
"More? Why?"
"Harry, I hate to push this issue, but it is one you must consider. You may have your mastery and you are quite skilled in what you do, but you have yet to see your first full quarter century and, as such, have barely skimmed the surface of your talents. In this, you are thinking like a Muggle; the odds are even that you will easily live beyond two centuries. You and Severus both."
Harry nodded. The idea had merit and he'd rather liked studying under the Magistra before; he'd just never thought he would do so again. "So you want me to continue my mastery with Quiesta?"
"In a way. The course of study I would recommend is not as concentrated as your mastery, but there are skills Carlotta can help you acquire as you need them. Think of her more as a resource you visit once or twice a month. For example, you made a good start with Severus' scars, but she can help you take it further. It was, unfortunately, a specialty of hers during the war."
"What about old scars?" Harry asked cagily.
Albus gazed at him over his spectacles in sympathy and understanding, saying softly, "If it was cast by Voldemort, then there is nothing anyone can do; not even you, my boy."
"But..."
"You have to first understand the nature of curse-scars. Every magical curse or ward, good or bad, which is meant to be permanently binding to a person, is fixed in a scar or wound of some sort - the scar on your forehead, the scar of yours and Severus' ward, the eyes on Severus' chest - among others you both bear - these are all one kind of Mark. It is done in this manner because a Schema cannot be changed twice on any one thing. Since, as you are well aware, scar tissue is different than normal tissue, and already has, in essence, been changed once, it can't be changed again."
The healer in Harry asked, "But wouldn't changing a scar back to skin be nothing more than reverting it back to its original form?"
Albus nodded. "If it were just a scar, this would be true as changing something back into its original form does not constitute a second change; however, one must consider that a Mark is a matrix for something else, so in essence it has already been once-removed from its original form. To make it skin again would require you to actually change it, not revert it."
All right, he could see that, but hadn't he... "What about Severus' Dark Mark? I was able to change it."
Albus' face beamed and Harry realised they were already having their first lesson. More importantly, he was enjoying it.
"Ah, I've been thinking on that as I had similar questions. Marks come in a variety of forms and, as a rule, are permanent because of the matrix involved in their creation. And yet, I was faced with the inescapable fact that you had erased one and, while you have some power in you," he smiled wryly, "you are not some 'super-wizard' who can supersede 'Larson's Laws of Transfigurations'."
"Don't you mean 'Thurmonger's Laws'?
"No, the Thurmonger Laws are taught to those learning only the basics of Transfigurations, such as what is learned in this school. The Larson Laws are for the adept taking deeper study.
"Oh. What are they, then?"
Albus shook his head. "Later, my boy; I can only explain one thing at a time." He pushed a piece of parchment over to Harry. "Write it down so we don't forget it."
While Harry penned it, Albus said, "Now where was I? Ah, yes. Severus' Dark Mark." He took a sip of tea. "If you eradicated it, then the premise that the Dark Mark was a true Mark had to be wrong. Taken in that light, then Voldemort's Mark was nothing more than an animated tattoo, a container for his magic if anything, which is why I, among others, failed to change the damned things. We were treating them as if they were a true Mark with a matrix; however, because you had no such notions, you easily changed it back to regular skin because that is what, as a healer, you sensed it was. Do the other scars Severus bears feel the same way as his Dark Mark?"
Harry thought about it while Albus poured him another cup. "No, they are very different. I can see what you mean, though. A scar is a scar is a scar, until someone imbues it with something else, then, like Severus' potions, there is a synergistic change, the binding if you will, that makes it something else altogether." He slumped in his chair. "Which means one might get rid of the curse, but not the thing that bears it."
His voice gentle, Albus answered, "Precisely, or one might not be able to get rid of the curse if it is too deep or too old, in which case both the scars and the residual effects of the curse remain - forever." His eyes were compassionate over his spectacles.
Well, that was that. There really was nothing he could do to help Severus; he would bear Voldemort's consequences all his life. Remembering Dumbledore's earlier words, Harry wondered, because of the nightmares he still experienced, if perhaps the scars Draco left in him carried a curse as well; he resolved to look into it.
Albus waited patiently for his full attention before saying, "This is what I meant by you doing more internal magic than I, and where Quiesta will be invaluable. Although a case might be made for ignorance, I suspect you would be far more interested in control rather than inadvertently stumbling into your talents, yes?"
Harry nodded and was about to reply when there was a knock on the door.
"I'm afraid our time is up; my next appointment is here. Perhaps you can stop by again tomorrow morning, after you've spoken to Septimius, and we can set up a schedule."
"I'd like that," Harry said, although the upcoming meeting with Severus' old teacher left him cold.
The door behind him opened on its own as he was rising from his chair. Minerva stood in the doorway, hesitating when she saw Harry. Albus called out, "Come in, come in, my dear. Harry and I are finished for the day; he's just on his way back to his quarters."
He was, was he? While it was news to him, Harry took it for the hint it was obviously meant to be. Minerva seemed nervous around him, her softly spoken greeting and farewell stilted and wary. 'Very strange,' he thought, on his way down the stair, 'but not any more so than anything else since we've been home.'
Home. Resolute, he walked swiftly to their quarters. About half-way to the dungeon stairs, the bell rang for afternoon change of classes. Damn, he did not want to wade his way through the inevitable throngs of students. Glancing around him, he spied a niche where he could, well, he wouldn't call it hiding, but at least it would get him enough out of the way so he wouldn't get trampled. Ducking into it just as the mad stampede came roaring through the corridor, he leaned back against the back wall - and tumbled out onto the ramp in their quarters.
Rubbing his aggrieved bum as he stood, he looked behind him at the now closed door. It was plain and obviously one they'd been unable to open. He tried the knob; no, it was locked from this side. Remembering what Severus had said about Wizarding connections (not to mention the sneaky bastard who could make them) and given that said mischief-maker couldn't have known in advance that he would stop in the alcove, it was reasonable to assume that Albus had been 'following' him (more than likely with the Marauder's map or something similar) before making the Wizarding connection.
But why would he do that in the middle of a meeting with the deputy headmistress? He pondered this as he made his way down the ramp. Sneaky indeed. The whole episode must have been planned. For some reason Albus wanted him to go to his quarters at this time. Perhaps the headmaster had made the Wizarding connection because he was running a bit behind some schedule?
No matter. He would play Albus' game until he tired of it and then he would play it Harry's way.
At the bottom of the ramp, he stepped into the rotunda. A wave of dizziness passed over him as his head began to pound.
...the four of heads of house, the headmaster...
He looked wildly around the room. There - in front of the fish globe - something floated loose in the air. He staggered over to it, finding, at waist height, a single blossom of white plumeria, its centre tinged a soft yellow. The heady scent beckoned to him.
...the birth of the columns, the aching beauty of the magic and that of...
"Severus," he whispered. The kaleidescope of jumbled images as much as the whirling pain in his head and neck made him sink to his knees on the hard stone floor, his stomach heaving.
...the spiralling of the ramp, the bright questing light touching the four heads of house, only to rest on...
"Severus! Where are you?" The agony travelled down his back almost crippling him. Why? What was he seeing? What was he remembering?
Trembling, he reached out to take the sweet flower, but he hesitated actually touching it as he felt the tingle of magic it bore. Sternly controlling himself, he cupped his shaking hands around it, barely sorting out what was its own magic versus the magic holding it aloft; he soon realised it was a Portkey.
...the headmaster pointing...
The nausea was all consuming while the pain crept to his arms and legs; soon he would be paralyzed. He couldn't stay here. Taking a deep breath and gathering the last of his volition, he plucked the blossom out of the air. Some long moments later he found himself kneeling on all fours in the dark. As the hook-in-the-belly feeling faded, taking with it the nausea, he sat back on his heels. Something shifted beneath his knees as warm, solid arms enfolded him, holding him fast.
"Dear gods, Harry, are you all right?"
No, he wasn't, but he couldn't articulate it right now as the things in the back of his mind clamoured for attention. Whimpering, he let them take him. Trembling with reaction, he beheld once again his vision with nothing barring him from seeing it in full. Secure in Severus' arms, he let the images wash over him, through him, until whole and unencumbered, he savoured them like the finest brandy on a cold night. And when it was over, he felt peaceful and sane, the lingering pain receding as if someone had pulled the plug on a drain, leaving him limp with relief.
He leant into the strong chest, finally aware of the hand gently stroking his hair. He tried to place where he was; it was the sand running through his fingers as much as the timeless rhythm of the ocean which told him where he'd landed. Hana. His eyes adjusting in the dim starlight, the moon a crescent waning far over the water, he could just see their house not too far away.
"Better now?" Severus whispered, his lips ghosting over Harry's forehead.
It was all he could do to nod; every muscle in his body ached.
"I'm so sorry, love. If I could have brought you myself, I would have, but you had to come on your own." Severus made a noise of deep frustration. "Ach! I still can't explain, but at least here you'll be - more comfortable - or at least we think so. Come. Let me help you to the house."
Standing was a struggle, but with Severus to support him, not impossible. They made their way slowly, Severus helping him with the stairs as protesting muscles and exhaustion made it difficult to even lift his feet enough to clear the risers. They made it across the lanai and into the house; he wasn't quite certain how, though.
Severus made him sit on the edge of their bed. "I'll be right back - don't move."
Easier said than done. He eyed the plump pillows and the soft comforter, its downy comfort singing him a siren song. Surely a little lie-down wouldn't hurt...
"Ah now, none of that - yet. Just a minute more, love. Here, drink this," Severus said with a smile in his voice, his hand cupping the back of Harry's head as he handed a small glass to him. He folded his other hand over Harry's to steady them as he raised the glass to his lips and drank deeply. Water, just cool water and something bitter, but - cleaner, not thick and heavy like one of Severus' normal potions. "It's just a mild willow bark infusion. May take a few minutes to work, but my other potions would cause you more stomach upset."
He nodded, his drooping eyes once again turning to the delectable bed. Severus chuckled, murmuring a familiar spell, and following a feathery tingle of magic, the cool night air whispered against his bare skin. Crawling under the covers had never felt this good; feeling the familiar body slide in next to him was much better, although the soft kiss bestowed on willing lips was by far the best.
Severus gently pulled him into his arms; Harry was happy to let him and the exhaustion take over. His thoughts muzzy, he vaguely heard Severus say soothingly, "Just sleep, Harry. We'll talk about it in the morning."
That sounded wonderful and without delay or comment, he snuggled in, inhaling deeply his mate's scent. It was so good to be home. Yes, home, but not the four walls and new roof surrounding them, but rather the loving arms around him, the comforting beat of Severus' heart beneath his cheek, the long legs anchoring him to the real place he belonged.
His dreams soon filtered over reality, giving him pleasant visions of his Severus surrounded by the magic. "So powerful," he murmured, "so strong - I can't tear my eyes away from you, Severus, you are so beautiful."
The warm cocoon surrounding him tightened as butterflies danced across the top of his head, whispering his name, "Harry," with all the love he could ever want or need.
And so gentled, he slept.
.:0:. .:0:. .:0:. .:0:.
TBC