The Harry Potter characters belong to JKR, not to me. Though actually, funny enough, all of the characters in this particular chapter, with the exception of Harry, are mine.
Chapter 29: Heir of Gryffindor
For Harry, Nasserite training was not only easy, he was born for it. Everything they taught him seemed to come naturally to him. He would soon be ready for the second step in his training as an apprentice, which was for him to take a master.
The time he spent at the temple was enjoyable, when not practicing his dueling skills, learning how to engage in magic without the necessary use of a wand, or meditating, he was typically found enjoying himself with Barnabas McNamara and Walter Mickey, the famous "Bards" of the order. Even in wartime, knowing that they would soon probably be in combat, the two still carried the same air of Fred and George, constantly joking, constantly light-hearted.
Harry wondered about what had happened to the twins, he wondered which of the Weasleys had escaped the inevitable purges which surely had taken place in the wake of Voldemort's takeover. He wondered if Percy, Bill, or even Ginny were still alive. Father Bates, when he returned to the temple for the short times that he was able to, rarely brought specific news about people he knew. He did not know who was left alive, in fact, the realization had dawned on him the day after Hermione and Ron returned that, as of the day before, he could not even be sure if Ron and Hermione were still alive.
If he had to guess, he would have said that they were still alive, somehow he thought that he would know if either of them were killed. He also comforted himself in the knowledge that he would soon be joining them in the fight, as soon as Father Bates felt that enough of the Nasserite apprentices had become ready to take on masters as were necessary to replenish their numbers lost when the various European Governments were purging their nations of the Nasserites.
Although Harry had progressed in his training with unusual speed, he was not the first apprentice to face the infamous "trial" from which one was said to be determined worthy or unworthy to take a master and continue on the path to becoming a full-fledged Nasserite. All of the apprentices in Harry's class looked forward to this trial with dread, it was said to be designed to weed out those apprentices who were not truly worthy to be Nasserites, and to involve some physical danger.
Three of Harry's classmates had already faced it, all of whom made it through. None of the Nasserites or Apprentices who had gone through it would say a word about it, save the confirmation of its existence. This upcoming trial occupied Harry's thoughts as he, over the course of the past few days, found himself unable to meditate. Even when Ron and Hermione were still there, the thought the fact that he would soon be judged truly worthy or unworthy to be a Nasserite frightened him. What was also confusing to Harry was the fact that Christ had already called him to be a Nasserite, and he had been told that he would be made worthy of the call, how then, could he possibly be judged unworthy?
Two nights had passed since Hermione and Ron had left. In the past two days, Harry attempted unsuccessfully to bond with his godson. At first he had Harry Ronald's crib moved into his own quarters, however, he discovered quickly that the child was well aware that he was no where near his mother and made this knowledge well known. Harry did not get any sleep the first night after Hermione and Ron had returned to England. When his training sessions were over the next day, he tried to hold the child as much as possible, in the hope that he would get used to being held by his godfather; no such luck.
Between this and the inevitable upcoming test, Harry was quite distraught. Realizing that he wasn't going to get any sleep if he had kept the child, before the second night he decided to return it to the temple's infirmary. After setting the child down into a crib in the infirmary, it cried even louder, apparently Harry Ronald still preferred his Godfather's arms as opposed to no arms at all.
"What?" Harry pleaded with the crying baby. "What is the problem? Why can't you be quiet? I know you want your mother and father but they won't be coming back for a while."
The child simply kept screaming loudly until, unsure of what to do, Harry picked the baby up. His arms did not silence him, or even quiet down his screaming.
"Hermione," Harry began to mutter under his breath, his "If you die and leave this child with me I'll never forgive you."
"Hey Harry!" came the voice of Barnabas McNamara, who was entering the infirmary grasping his own arm.
"What did you do to your arm Barnabas?" asked Harry.
"Walt and I had a dueling accident," replied McNamara as he approached Harry who still held the screaming baby in his arms. "Looks like you've got your hands full."
"I don't get it Barnabas, this baby simply won't stop crying."
"Aw, he misses his mummy," McNamara reached to the baby and took it from Harry's arms. "Come here little mate."
At first the child screamed even louder as McNamara began to rock him back and forth in his arms singing "Come Josephine in my Flying Machine," slowly and softly. For several seconds the infant continued to cry. Just as Harry was about to give a sigh of resignation to the impossible, the child began to quiet itself down, until eventually, all that could be heard was McNamara's singing voice.
"How did you…"
"Comes with experience," said McNamara who laid Harry Ronald gently in the crib. McNamara then went to a small shelf by the wall of the room and took from there a bottle of potion. After uncorking the bottle, he emptied its contents onto his arm. A slight fizzing noise was heard as McNamara cringed a bit in pain. "See I have three children back in Ireland."
"Really?"
"Yeah," McNamara Paused, in his face came a look of almost… regret as he continued to explain while trying to keep his good-humored composure. "A Nasserite is not the best thing to be when you're raising a family. Sometimes I'm in the temple for months at a time."
"Do you know if they're alright?" Harry asked. "Your family."
"I'd like to think that they are," said McNamara, his composure lost all resemblance to good nature or humor and became serious, contemplative. "The British Auror force, under Voldemort has invaded Southern Ireland, I'm not sure what they're doing to civilians, Father Bates doesn't give us that much in the way of specifics."
Harry nodded, "I'm sorry I asked."
McNamara quickly resumed his face of positive energy.
"Quite alright, Harry," He said. "God's will be done."
"Hold on a minute," Harry began. "I thought you were catholic."
"I am."
"How can you be a catholic priest and still…"
"I'm not a priest, Harry," McNamara clarified. "Not all Nasserites are clergymen."
An inquisitional expression came over Harry, there was something he had to ask, even if he knew that McNamara probably wouldn't tell him.
"Barnabas," he paused, looking for an easy way to ask his question, finding none he decided to proceed. "I was just wondering… about the final task before…"
McNamara's expression once again became serious, though not angry, he stopped Harry in mid sentence.
"Harry we all believe in you," he said. "You wouldn't be here if we didn't think you could make it."
"I just wish that I knew when or what it was going to be."
McNamara Shrugged, "Harry the strongest tests of character are unannounced, frankly you have already proved your character. You've been fighting Voldemort since you were a young boy, you've had to grow up at such a young age, you didn't ask for this life that was given to you, but you accepted it, and so much good has come from it."
Harry nodded, none of what McNamara said maid him feel any better, but he could tell that he wasn't going to get any more answers. He decided therefore to simply remain silent, when Reverend Ewls entered the Infirmary, and approached Harry. Upon Ewls' face was his usually powerful expression, he fixed his gaze upon Harry.
"Harry, come with me please."
McNamara's face once again became serious, even grave. It seemed, somehow, that McNamara knew what this was. Harry too had a slight suspicion. He had been waiting to face the last trial for days and now. He took a deep breath and joined Reverend Ewls in walking out of the infirmary and into a small corridor. It was the strangest walk that Harry had ever taken with Reverend Ewls, neither said a word to the other. From the small corridor, the two entered a small office, behind the desk of which sat Father Bates, whose gaze was emotionless and harsh. In addition to his emotionless stare, his face also bore resemblance to exhaustion and pain. Harry guessed that his duties of continually seeking lost Nasserites, only to find many of them dead were probably quite painful to him.
"Mr. Potter," Father Bates began. "Reverend Ewls has spoken on your behalf, as have several other members of our order who shall remain nameless. They believe—though I must confess that I do not agree—that the time has come for you to face your last test before taking a master."
Harry's heart suddenly began to shake in his chest with nervousness; he nodded, and took a deep breath.
"I'm ready," he said.
"I seriously doubt that, Mr. Potter," Bates replied without hesitation, his expression was even more cold than ever. "This is not something that you can be ready for. Your skills with a sword are quite possibly second to none, you feel the love of God surrounding you, and this gives you great power, but as of this moment all of these skills you have learned to date mean precisely nothing. This is a test of character, Mr. Potter, not skill. At this moment you will select a Mentor who will guide you through the last stages of your apprenticeship, whom do you choose?"
Harry did not even have to be asked. Without hesitation he looked up to Reverend Ewls who stood next to him. Ewls and Harry's eyes caught each other, both knew exactly what the other was thinking, and both clearly agreed.
"Reverend Ewls," said Harry resolved.
"Thomas, do you take Harry James Potter as your apprentice?" Father Bates asked solemnly. "Do you take upon yourself the duties of instructing him in the ways and traditions of our order?"
"I do."
"Then take him, and instruct him in the final task which must take place before he can learn anything from you."
Ewls nodded, he motioned to Harry that it was time to leave, and without a word, the two of them left Father Bates' office. They walked through the corridor to the great hall of the temple, and from the great hall onto a downward flight of stairs leading to a dark, narrow corridor, lit only by torches. The walls of this corridor were different from the rest of the temple in that they bore no iconography but were plain gray slate. Ewls lead Harry through a door into a small, dark room which also contained no iconography.
When Harry entered the room, his heart leapt, nearly overcoming his nervousness momentarily, noticing that in the center of the room was a perch, atop which sat an orange-red bird which he recognized immediately.
"Fawkes!"
Harry approached the perch and began to stroke the side of the bird's head gently.
"That is correct Harry," said Ewls. "He's been here ever since Dumbledore died. Phoenixes are the only animals who know how to access the temple, and whenever a Nasserite master of a phoenix dies, it is common for the bird to come here."
"But Reverend, Dumbledore wasn't a Nasserite, was he?"
"Dumbledore was more powerful than half of the Nasserites together," said Ewls, his voice was serious and solemn, a fact that did not make Harry any more comfortable in light of his upcoming task. "But no, God did not call Professor Dumbledore to become a Nasserite himself. Dumbledore was not, however, Fawkes's only master, you see Fawkes is over two thousand years old and he has belonged to Dumbledore's family ever since.
"Dumbledore was brought here just after he graduated from Hogwarts, it was expected that he, like most of his ancestry, would be called to be a Nasserite, this was not the case for him or his brother. This was so unusual, firstly because he was so gifted, secondly because the entire patrilineage of his family were Nasserites, beginning with one of the greatest wizards of all time, the original bearer of the Nasserite sword you now carry."
At this, Harry stood nearly shocked.
"You mean that Godric Gryffindor…"
"…is Albus Dumbledore's twentieth-fifth Great Grandfather," Ewls finished Harry's sentence. "Albus's branch of the family changed their name to Dumbledore, which means honeybee, for an unknown reason about five hundred years ago; Until recently, the Dumbledores were one of two remaining direct, pure-blood, patrilineal lines of descent which went back to Godric Gryffindor. Now that we have confirmed that Aberforth Dumbledore is dead, that branch is sadly gone."
"Which family is the second remaining branch?"
Ewls' face became even more solemn, his expression was powerful, it penetrated deep into Harry as he was about to answer.
"Harry the sword that you now carry, was more than simply a Hogwarts artifact," Ewls began. "It was a family heirloom, passed down to the oldest sons of Dumbledore's line, going all the way back to Gryffindor's oldest son himself, from whom Dumbledore was a direct descendant. Do you think that Dumbledore would want anyone to bear that sword if they weren't in the family?"
Harry's face became even more shocked as he fully realized what this meant. Ewls continued…
"The other patriliniage which still exists, descends from Godric Gryffindor's youngest son Potifer Gryffindor, who was a squib actually; he became an artist and a pottery sculptor, hence the name, 'Potter,' which has remained in your family for over a thousand years."
"So that means…"
"You are the last patrilineally direct remaining heir of Godric Gryffindor, both the sword and the phoenix are yours. This knowledge, believe it or not, is part of the so-called 'trial,' a trial which is purely about self-discovery, in this trial, you will face no test of physical or even magical or mental abilities, this is about discovering who you are inside. Our ancestors, although they do not determine who we are, each pass something down to us, and self discovery begins with our past."
Harry nodded, everything was beginning to make sense, especially his call from God in light of his family line. He knew now why he had lead such a harsh life for as long as he could remember; he knew now why Trelawney's prophesy had applied to he alone, and not Neville, he understood more clearly his destiny than he had ever before.
"But this is only the beginning, Harry," said Ewls. "I cannot go any further with you than this; everything else must be experienced by you personally. In this room you will face three ultimate truths: Christ Jesus, Christ-like acts on your behalf, and Christ in you. Fawkes will remain with you as a guide, but at the end of the day this trial is meant to demonstrate a single truth which you and you alone can figure out. God go with you."
Harry nodded, some of his nervousness had been removed at the recent knowledge he had acquired; a strange sensation which confirmed for him that he was not alone. He and Ewls again shared a brief moment when their eyes connected and each had a moment of mutual understanding. Ewls then turned, left the room, and shut the door slowly behind him. It was only after Ewls had left that Harry realized that he had not been given any instructions whatsoever. Unsure of what to do, yet somehow confident that he would soon find out, he again approached Fawkes's perch and began to stroke Fawkes affectionately when the bird suddenly burst into flames. Harry pulled his hand back from the bird's flaming head instinctively.
Harry's heart sank as he realized that the new, immature Fawkes which would be reborn from the ashes would probably not be able to offer him much help. Much to Harry's surprise, the flames that consumed Fox, did not form ashes out of the phoenix's body, but instead grew until they encompassed Harry, who was surprised that they were not hot. Harry found himself encompassed about by flames for several seconds until they suddenly vanished and Harry found himself in what appeared to be Dumbledore's office before he died. Dumbledore's portrait did not appear on the wall, all of his old gadgets which Harry had broken in a fit of rage during his fifth year were intact, even Fawkes appeared on his usual perch.
"Hello, Harry," came a voice which Harry instantly recognized.
Professor Dumbledore emerged from the small entrance hall which was directly outside of his office. Harry turned to behold his gentle, smiling face. A tear came upon Harry's eye.
"Professor Dumbledore, sir," Harry said affectionately.
"An echo of Professor Dumbledore would be a better description," Dumbledore corrected. "Living within the memory of my dear pet, Fawkes."
Harry's eyes followed his old headmaster as he walked to the perch, atop which sat Fawkes. Dumbledore gave the phoenix an affectionate pat on the head before sitting down in his desk.
"Won't you sit down, Harry," Dumbledore Invited. Harry accepted, everything about this trial so far was seemingly positive thus far, that is until Dumbledore continued. "What you are about to witness Harry will be one of the most powerful, saddening things you will have ever seen. We are about to go back in memory to the two most painful things you have ever experienced. Know only that they will serve to teach you what you need to know in order to accomplish your destiny. Do you understand?"
Harry nodded, his nervousness now increased slightly at Dumbledore's warning.
"Close your eyes, Harry," Dumbledore instructed.
Harry did so, but instead of seeing blackness he immediately found his eyes opened again and he was no longer in Dumbledore's office. He was in a garden of trees, the first thing he noticed was the heat of the night, it must have been either late spring or early summer wherever he was. His first instinct was to wander around and discover what it was he was supposed to be doing, until he heard a whispering voice.
The voice was one of fright, desperation, begging. He followed his sense of sound through the dark night to the origin of the voice. When he arrived he recognized the person from whom it came immediately. He had met him before, when he touched the cross, he was a plain looking man, wearing old, weathered white robes. His skin, although usually a healthy brown was now a pale white, in his sweat were small drops of dark red, he had a thick, bushy beard and short brown hair. He was on his knees, crying aloud at a whisper to the sky. It was clearly in a different language, but Harry, for some reason, understood it. It was an experience similar to hearing parsletongue
"Out of the depths I cry to you," he pleaded. "Lord hear my prayer."
The man began to shake, until he finally stood and tried to put on a face of calm. His harsh breathing, however gave away the fact that he was clearly frightened by something. The man set off in a direction in the woods, Harry instinctively followed. The man stopped immediately when he found three people asleep near a small tree. When the man arrived, he rolled his eyes, a look of anger came upon his face.
"Cephas!" the man said.
Immediately, the three men awoke, a look of fright and apology took hold of their expressions as they stood and faced the man.
"You could not wait for me for one hour," the man said disappointed.
"Forgive us Adonai" said one of the three men.
The man who had been praying nodded. He turned around and headed back in the direction from where he came.
"Pray!" his voice commanded as he left their sight.
Harry followed the man until he came back to the place at which he was praying. The man's grave, frightful face returned to him, he again knelt down and began to pray…
"Abba, all things are possible with you," he began. "This burden is so much, remove this cup from me, please!"
Tears glistened Harry's eyes as he realized what was going on.
"Nevertheless, may your will be done."
Suddenly, a glorious white light appeared, so bright that Harry could not look upon it, though when he squinted he could tell that a personage stood therein. When the man looked into the light without squinting, a new expression came upon his face, one of resolve, understanding, determination; he knew what he had to do. This, however, did not help his pain as he began to sweat even more profusely, blood droplets trickled down along with his sweat has he continued to pray.
Harry blinked, and suddenly found himself in another place at night. This place, he did recognize immediately, it was Godric's Hollow, he had visited it the previous summer. The night was slightly cooler, although dark outside, Harry could tell that the leaves were turning various fall colors, several leaves were spread along the ground. Directly in front of him stood a small, two-story cottage with lights on in the downstairs section.
A small, heavy-set man, wearing muggle clothing approached the cottage. Harry instinctively followed him. Both the man and Harry entered the house, and upon coming into the light, Harry recognized him immediately as Wormtail. The anger in Harry's heart increased to the point of consuming him. From out of another lighted room came a dashing young man with glasses and unkept hair, a baby's cry could be heard from somewhere in the house.
"Sirius, Lily," the man whom Harry recognized as his father called.
"Hold on prongs, the baby's crying," came back the voice of Harry's Godfather.
Harry, motivated out of a desire to see Sirius, proceeded out of the room in which he currently stood and moved in the direction of the crying, this led him upstairs, and into a small room in which stood a crib. His mother, Lily Potter held a small child whom Harry immediately knew was himself, Sirius Black stood directly next to his mother with his finger gently stroking the baby's face as it cried.
"It's okay little mate," said Sirius calmly. "Everything's gonna be alright."
At the sound of Sirius' voice, combined with the comforting arms of his mother, the baby relaxed, and stopped crying. Lily gently laid the child down into the crib.
"What on Earth makes you so good for him Sirius?"
"Hey, we're mates, Harry and I."
Harry smiled as he heard this, he then followed his mother and his godfather down to the kitchen in which his father and Wormtail waited. When they arrived an expression of insecurity came over Sirius.
"Are you sure about this, Prongs," Sirius began. "Maybe I would be the better option."
"Voldemort would expect that, Padfoot." said James. "And I trust Wormtail."
Wormtail nodded, his expression was one of confidence, he clearly knew exactly what he was going to do. Harry's anger and even hatred swelled within him. He wanted to speak up, to warn his parents not to do it, not to trust Wormtail, he realized, however, that they could not see him, and probably could not hear him either.
"Wands at the ready," said James.
Sirius, Lily, and James took their wands and placed them gently on Wormtail's forehead.
"On the count of three," said James. "One, two, three…"
"Fidelio!" said the voices of Sirius, James, and Lily.
Harry blinked, and again found himself in the same garden of olive trees in which he had found himself before, the night's heat came back to him. He found the man who had been praying, walking back toward the tree at which he found the three sleeping men. Harry followed him, when he arrived, the men were sleeping again.
"Get up!" the man's voice ordered harshly. The three men quickly opened their eyes and stood. "I cannot believe you would be sleeping, pray that you do not fall into temptation, for the hour has come."
Immediately as the man had finished speaking several footsteps were heard through the trees. One of them men drew a sword, another drew what appeared to be a wand.
"Put those away," said the man who had been praying, the two reluctantly obeyed.
A crowd of about twenty men, some carrying torches, others carrying swords arrived. The expression of the man who had been praying became even more resolved, all fear had apparently disappeared from his face. Leading the crowd was a man whose expression was extremely grave and frightful. The look in his eyes was one of clear apology, he clearly wanted to warn the man who had been praying, but one of the men who was carrying a sword nudged him onward. The frightened man approached the man who had been praying slowly, steadily, when he arrived he placed his hands on the sides of the man's face and began to speak softly as he brought his lips to those of the man who had been praying.
"Hail rabbi!" said the frightened man as he kissed the man who had been praying. After breaking from him, a look of anger came upon the man who had been praying.
"Judas," he said, an expression of fear and regret came into the frightened man's eyes, tears began to fall. "Is it with a kiss that you betray the Son of Man?"
The frightened man backed away several steps and fell to his knees, his tears and sobs were now quite loud so that everyone around them could hear. One of the men carrying swords began to step toward the man who had been praying, when suddenly there came the sound of the drawing of another sword, and one of the three men who had slept by the tree lunged at the guard who approached. He struck the guard's sword with his own so hard that it flew out of his hand, he then made a slice at the side of his face, causing the guard to scream in pain, grabbing his ear.
"Enough Cephas!" said the man who had been praying, as he knelt down to the guard, placing his hand upon his ear. "Those who live by the sword, shall die by the sword, put it away," he said as he placed his hand upon the guard's ear, when he removed his hand the ear had been healed. The man then stood and faced the other guards with the same look of resolve. With a moment of slight hesitation, they quickly took his hands and bound him, and then carried him off in the direction from which they emerged. The frightened man, Judas, lay prostrate on the ground crying his eyes out, as the other three, with frightened expressions, ran off.
Harry again blinked, he suddenly found himself in the same room with the crib in which Sirius and Lily had previously stood. This time, James and Lily stood by the crib, James held the infant Harry in his arms. The baby was not crying; James rocked it back and forth gently, before laying it gently in the crib.
"Good night little Harry," said James as he leaned his head into the crib, giving the infant a kiss, Lily then did the same before the two turned to leave the room.
When the two arrived at the door, James set off down the upstairs hallway, Lily flipped a muggle light-switch, the lights in the room went off.
"Good night Harry," said Lily. "Mummy loves you."
Harry followed his mother into another bedroom in which a double-sized bed sat. James had already put on his pajamas and now knelt down at the side of the bed. After making the sign of the cross he rolled forward the sheets and entered the bed. Lily went into a small bathroom adjacent to the bedroom for a few seconds, after coming out, she wore pajamas similar to those of her husbands. She went around to the side of the bed on which James was not sleeping, knelt down and made the sign of the cross. She prayed silently for a few seconds before again making the sign of the cross and getting into the bed.
"We got an owl from Wormtail," said James drowsily. "Contained in the envelope was a message from Thomas Ewls."
"Oh,"
"Yeah, just asking how were doing, says he's praying for us."
"Good,"
Lily maneuvered herself into the arms of her husband. The two shared a short kiss.
"I love you," said James.
"I love you… James I'm worried, do you really trust Peter, I mean…"
"With my life, Lily," said James. "Nobody will find us here, no one's going to hurt our baby."
Off in the distance, outside, the loud barking of a dog could be heard. The couple ignored this as Lily closed her eyes and buried her head into her husband's chest. What the coupled did not ignore however, was the glass sneakoscope on James' nightstand making a loud whistling noise. Harry's heart sank as he knew immediately why he had been taken here, he knew exactly what he was about to witness, tears flooded his eyes as he shook his head. He could take no more, he could not stand to see what he knew he was going to see.
James immediately got out of bed and took his wand into his hand.
"What the!" exclaimed Lily.
"The things probably busted, probably nothing to worry about," James said calmly. "Go check on Harry."
The Infant undoubtedly heard the loud whistle which was continuing as a cry could be heard from inside the baby's room. Lily Potter left the master bedroom and ran off toward Harry's room. James took his wand and aimed it at the sneakoscope.
"Silencio!"
The whistling stopped. Harry followed his father as he made his way downstairs with his wand in hand. When James arrived at one of the windows which looked outside in the direction of the front of the house he saw nothing, he then moved to the back of the house. This time, however, when he peered out of one of the back windows, his expression sank, his jaw dropped, an expression of fear came upon him. Harry looked out another window to see a dark, hooded figure walking slowly to the house.
Without hesitation James Ran back to the direction of the stairs. He ran up the stairs calling out…
"Lily!" he cried. "Lily!"
Lily emerged from Harry's bedroom, a look of minor fear and curiosity in her face. Harry was not in her arms.
"Lily take the baby and go!" James ordered as he arrived taking his wife into his arms, squeezing as hard as he could. "Out the front door, go! Now!"
When the two broke apart from their embrace, Lily noticed the look of fright in her husband's eyes, tears glistened her own.
"James what…"
"He's found us," James said. "I don't know how but he's found us, now take Harry and go!"
"Let me get my wand," Lily said.
"No Lily, you have to get to Sirius!" James pleaded. "Go!"
Harry blinked and was immediately taken to a small courtyard at which sat a small pillar with chains and cuffs attached to it; bloodstains traversed the ground surrounding the pillar. Several soldiers wearing red were standing about the courtyard, carrying whips in which were pieces of metal and what appeared to modern eyes to be fishing-hooks. Knowing what he was about to witness, Harry thought that he was going to throw up.
A large crowd was beginning to gather on one side of the courtyard, leaving a space of about five meters between they and the pillar. Another group of soldiers wearing red led the man who had been praying in the garden at night into the courtyard. They immediately took the irons off of his hands and then chained him to the pillar. Harry's nausea increased as two of the soldiers in red who had been waiting in the courtyard took their positions, one on either side of the man chained to the pillar.
A third soldier in red, who sat at a desk was handed a piece of parchment by one of the soldiers who had brought the man into the courtyard. The man who sat at the desk looked over the parchment for a second before handing it back to the other soldier nodding.
"Thirty-nine lashings," ordered the man at the desk.
Laughter filled Harry's ears, emanating from the soldiers who were holding the whips. They were smiling jovially, they clearly could not wait to do what they were about to do. They looked back at the man who sat at the desk, who, smiling himself, immediately gave a nod. One of the two soldiers standing just behind and to the side of the chained man took his whip and lunged it to the back of the chained man, who gave a shout in agony.
"Alpha!" cried a voice.
The other soldier carrying a whip did the same thing, another cry in agony from the chained man.
"Beta!"
The two soldiers alternated, with each blow, more of the chained man's back skin seemed to disappear; with each blow, Harry's heart sank deeper and deeper. His tears filled his eyes as he, after thirteen of the thirty-nine, could not longer look at the pillar. Sobbing aloud, he closed his eyes and was immediately taken back to the cottage from which he had come. He could not figure out which scene he wanted to behold less, the scourging of his savior, or the death of his parents.
His father walked to the back door of the cottage with his wand in hand, Harry's tears filled his eyes and fell from his cheeks freely as he could do nothing to help his father. His instinct told him to reach for his wand, he even grasped it in his robe pocket, but his reason knew that there was nothing he could do. This feeling of powerlessness overwhelmed him. It was this feeling, that something told him to pay attention to, he did not know why. Sure enough, he was powerless to help his parents, powerless to help the man being scourged, he could do nothing.
His father opened the back door, made the sign of the cross and exposed himself to the dark figure who was only feet away. James raised his wand to the dark figure, who had already raised his own wand.
"Stupe…"
"Avada Kedavra!"
Harry saw a blinding green light and was suddenly on a road in an ancient city. Jesus, the man who had been praying, the man who he had met that day when he touched the cross, the man who had been flogged without mercy, was now carrying a large, overbearing crossbeam on his back. His face was bleeding, his back was bleeding, everything about him was torn, wounded, ripped apart. His face bore an expression of drowsiness as he suddenly collapsed, falling to the floor as the surrounding crowd threw rotten pieces of fruit or bread at him as he lay prostrate on the ground, crushed by the wooden beam he carried.
"Please!" begged a familiar female voice. "Please no!"
Harry blinked and was standing in his bedroom at the cottage, the Hooded figure's wand was aimed at Harry's mother.
"Step out of the way mud-blood, I'm not here for you!"
"No! please," Lily Potter cried, tears falling freely from her cheeks, her voice bearing such obvious fright. "Don't kill my baby! Please! kill me instead."
"Get out of the way!" the hooded figure again ordered calmly.
"No! Please" begged Lily.
Harry blinked and was taken to a place he had also been before, the hill from which he took the portkey to enter the temple. Instead of being empty, three vertical stakes rose from the ground, two of which already had crossbeams and condemned individuals attached to them—one of which—the one in the center—was empty.
Jesus stood, his face was drowsy, his wounds covered his body. Two soldiers wearing red took his arms and forcibly made him to lay down, his shoulders touching the crossbeam which he had been carrying. They held him down, another soldier with a hammer and nail in his hands, placed the nail to where he held it vertically above Jesus' wrist. Another voice came into Harry's ears as he watched the man's hammer rise in his arms above the nail and then suddenly stopped as if a movie had paused.
"I cannot be with you much longer my friends," a soft voice said. "You cannot go where I am going, but my commandment to you after I am gone is this… Love one another! As I have loved you, so love one another!"
As the voice finished, the hammer fell, the nail went partially into Jesus' wrist as Jesus cried out in agony.
"AVADA KEDAVRA!" cried the voice of the hooded figure as Harry again found himself in his bedroom. A blinding green light emerged from the hooded figure's wand, and his mother fell dead.
"No!" cried Harry.
"You must watch," came Dumbledore's voice.
"I can't" said Harry as he collapsed to the floor, which became a rocky ground. He was sobbing hard. The air on the hill had become cooler, the sun had been covered by dark clouds. Harry noticed this but merely looked to the ground.
"You must," the voice repeated.
"Look up Harry," came a softer voice, a voice he recognized, the voice of the man he had met when he touched the cross, the voice of the man who had prayed in the garden, the voice of the man who now hung on the cross.
Harry shook his head.
"Look up," the voice repeated.
Harry hesitantly obeyed and saw Jesus, hanging on the cross, his head was bowed to his chest, his side had been pierced and was now bleeding, he was clearly dead.
"Behold the Lamb of God," said the soft voice again. "Who takes away the sins of the world."
As this voice stopped a ladder was laid on the cross, a soldier ascended it, and carefully removed the nails from Jesus' hand. Another ladder was laid on the cross, another soldier ascended and with the use of a piece of rope, caught the hand which fell as the nail was removed from it. Removing the dead Jesus from the cross required four soldiers, two on the ladders, two on the ground. When Jesus was taken down, he was laid in the arms of a sobbing woman who sat on the ground at the foot of the cross.
Harry blinked and found himself standing next to his own crib, the hooded figure removed the hood from his head, revealing the same Voldemort he had met in the graveyard the night the Dark Lord had returned, the same Voldemort he had met in the Ministry of Magic the night his godfather was killed. The infant in the crib was not crying, but merely looked up at the face of his attacker. For the first time in almost two years, Harry's scar began to sting and burn, he started to scratch at it as Voldemort raised his wand to the infant.
"Avada Kedavra!"
Harry again found himself in another place. This time, he found himself in utter darkness until the sound of moving rock broke the silence, and a beam of sunlight began to peer into the cave in which he laid. When the stone which had completely covered the entrance to the cave was fully rolled away, and the cave lighted, Harry beheld Jesus standing before him in pure white robes. The burial robes which had covered him were laid empty on a stone table behind him.
Jesus looked directly into Harry's eyes, he seemed aware of his presence.
"Hello Harry," said Jesus' soft voice. "What have you learned?"
Harry was still sobbing.
"I… I don't know," he admitted.
"Oh come on," said Jesus in a voice of near jest. "What did Thomas tell you before you came here, that you would face Christ Jesus, you would face Christ-like acts in your life on your behalf, and you would face Christ in you."
"Well," said Harry, who had stopped sobbing, but his voice was weak. "Clearly I witnessed you Lord, and I think that my parents died for me in the same way, but I'm not sure of…"
"Christ in you."
"It seems as though everything I've ever done wasn't really my own work," Harry admitted, beginning to sob again. "Everything I've ever done, I only could do either out of luck, or because someone was there to help, I…"
"Exactly!" said Jesus. "What does Brother Paul say about Father Abraham in his letter to the Romans?" Harry hesitated, Jesus continued. "Abraham believed God, and it was imputed to him as righteousness. Your admittance that nothing you have done was in truth your own work is absolutely correct. You are not righteous, or powerful, or even a decent wizard, not of yourself anyways.
"Think about it, you are alive right now because your mother died for you, you are sinless in the eyes of God because I died for you and rose again. You defeated Voldemort and Professor Quirrel your first year at school because of the protection of the blood sacrifice of your mother. You defeated Voldemort's Diary and the Basilisk your second year because Fawkes delivered you the very weapon you needed, not to mention the fact that you survived the venom of the Basilisk because of Fawkes' tears. You survived Lord Voldemort's killing curse in your fourth year because of the priori incantatem effect which awakened the memories of your parents, Frank Bryce, and Cedric Diggory, who gave you precious seconds in which to escape with Cedric's body. The very prophesy itself, the reason why you are the chosen one was made before you were born. Your faith even: Before the foundation of the world, I predestined you unto adoption as my child, according to the good pleasure of my will, without which you could not even consider believing in me."
Harry slowly nodded. Everything made sense to him now, nothing he had ever done was truly done by him. He was always a pawn of the events which had caused him to be. Nothing he had ever been was chosen by him, but by forces and persons who conspired well before he was ever conceived. This troubled him, his face looked to the ground, Jesus caught this and continued speaking.
"Why are you troubled Harry?" asked Jesus.
"I've never chosen my own destiny, Lord," he began. Before he could continue, Jesus interrupted.
"It wasn't yours to choose," Jesus approached Harry and placed his hands upon Harry's shoulders. The expression on the face of the Savior was one of intense compassion. "Harry I laid these paths out for you before you were born, I chose you to be my instrument to do great things well before you were even a speck in your parent's eyes. But what you did choose was to follow the path I gave you. Do you remember your first year when the sorting hat was placed on your head?"
"Yes."
"How it considered you for Slytherin, but you chose a different path, you chose the path of your destiny because you knew, even then, that it was the right thing to do. That is what determines whether or not you are in me, and I in you. At the fundamental core of your being, at the last basic part of yourself, you have the will to do right action for right reason; that is not something you can have without the Holy Spirit in your heart."
"So you're telling me that I was in you…"
"…well before you even knew it, Harry," Jesus said as a smile grazed his lips. "Harry let me tell you this: Hermione would have been saved had she died without ever admitting that she had faith because that faith was in her heart well before she was willing to acknowledge it. Belief in me, is much more deep than simply saying, 'I believe in Jesus,' and non-belief is much deeper than simply saying, 'I don't believe in Jesus.' To believe in me is to, at the very last, basic, fundamental part of yourself, have the will to do right action for right reason. So who are you?"
Harry nodded as he thought, he understood the answer to the question Jesus had asked him well before it came to him cognitively, as if it had been stored in his heart since he was born.
"I am good," Harry said.
Jesus gave a smile and a nod, he then let go of Harry's shoulders and began to walk toward the light which came through the opening in the tomb.
"Until your next metanoia then, Harry," Jesus said as a farewell. Harry still faced the empty tomb as a smile slowly came upon his lips.
"Oh and by the way," Jesus began as he stood right in the entrance of the tomb, Harry turned to face him. "If you really want Harry Ronald to stop crying, he really likes it when you rub his cheeks ever-so-gently with your finger, see ya Harry,"
Jesus walked into the light and disappeared just as Harry found himself back in the room in which this all began. Fawkes was once again on his perch, Harry affectionately stroked the bird as a knock came, and the door opened.
"Finished?" asked Reverend Ewls as he entered the room.
Harry nodded, "How did you know.'
"It only ever takes a few seconds," Ewls said. "I've been standing out here the whole time. What happened between you and the Lord, stays between you and the Lord, understand?"
Harry nodded.
"Then congratulations, you are one step closer to being a full-fledged Nasserite," Ewls said, Harry nodded. "Look at your robes."
On the robes of all of the Nasserites he had met thus far, rested the same emblem which now mysteriously appeared on Harry's robes. Until now, Harry had never bothered to look at it close enough to notice what was on it. It was a shield quartered by a red, Roman Cross at the center of which rested a golden Star of David, the background of all of the quarters was white. In the top right hand quarter was the triangular symbol of the trinity, in the top left hand quarter were two crossed swords. In the bottom right hand quarter were two crossed wands, while in the bottom left hand quarter as an opened scroll bearing the barely visible Greek words "Hagia Sophia." Resting atop the shield were the Aramaic Words "maran-atha."
"Come Harry," said Ewls. "We have work to do."