25.
When Harry next woke, he was in a cold room lit with white light and he felt heavy.
Welcome back to the world, young one, Legion cooed, ghostly voices soft and relieved. Its presence was comforting. He felt something restraining his arms and grasped feebly at what he slowly realized were long yards of gauze wrapped around his hands, wires, and clear tubing.
"He's awake!" someone shouted. Gently, someone took each of his hands to stop them from taking out his IV and heart monitor. Harry blinked his eyes open, wincing at the light. He was frustrated. Everything felt wrong.
"Shh, Harry, you're safe. You're in St. Mungo's. Just try to relax, lad." He knew that voice was Sirius. Harry tried to say something, but the muscles in his face refused to move and all he managed was a soft mumble.
"I know, hon, I know," Sirius said, stroking his cheek. Harry breathed hard, tears welling in his eyes. He didn't like feeling like this.
It took a while, but he managed to calm down with some encouragement from Sirius. He slept a little more and when he woke again, there was someone new by his bed. Draco was there reading a book and he was dozing off, clearly exhausted. Harry didn't think his voice would work, so he reached over slowly with a trembling arm and poked Draco with his boxing-glove-like hand, pleased that he managed that much. Draco practically threw the book away from himself and stood up, startled. A smile broke out onto his face when he saw Harry's tired eyes staring at him. Harry pointed his bandaged hand limply at him, softly chuckling. Draco sat back down and gently held Harry's injured hand.
"You know your new nickname in the papers is the-boy-who-won't-die, right?" Draco laughed despite tears dripping down his face. Groggy as he was, Harry couldn't deny that was very funny and nodded weakly, chuckling softly through his nose. More visitors steadily streamed through his room, each looking more teary-eyed than the next. Ron and Hermione visited while he was still getting the fog out of his brain and he fell in and out of sleep while they played a game of wizard's chess next to his bed. Each time he woke, they greeted him and chattered to him good naturedly even if he was too tired to respond. Someone was always by his bed and he was never alone. Snape, Sirius, and the Malfoys were there the most. McGonagall was there too, usually reading something to him.
"Your wounds are healing well," Snape said one day. St. Mungo's had sought his help healing Harry's injuries because they were not healing as they should. Harry looked down at the ragged scar that covered most of his torso. Combined with the basilisk scar and the ones on his back, he wasn't sure there was an inch of skin on his body that hadn't been touched. The bandages on his hands had been removed and the burn scars were all over his palms, between his fingers, and on the top of his hands.
"I look like Frankenstein's monster," he said. Snape huffed.
"You came back to life. You are Frankenstein's monster." Snape began putting away his supplies. Harry shivered and pulled up his blankets. Snape stopped what he was doing and felt Harry's forehead.
"That's strange. No fever. Why are you shivering?" He took up Harry's hands in his own.
"Your hands are freezing." Snape said, warming them in his own.
"I'm cold," Harry said, shivering even as the summer sunlight shone through the windows of St. Mungos.
"I'll need to do more research," Snape said, frowning as Harry's hands remained stubbornly cold. He tucked Harry in as he dozed off again and when Harry next awoke, there was a Weasley knitted quilt to add to his growing collection of blankets.
The champions visited several times, each recovering from their own injuries in the hospital, though none were as grievous as Harry's.
"So who won the tournament?" Harry rasped one day, his words finally coming back to him. Viktor laughed gruffly. He winced as he jarred an injured arm, which was wrapped and hung in a sling hanging from his neck. Cedric stayed quiet, looking at his hands. His leg stump was healing well, though he relied on a wheelchair while his wounds healed.
"The Ministry forgot all about that for a few days," Fleur said, smiling gently. She had also suffered burns, mostly on her neck and arms. She wore a boot to support a broken ankle. "But they tallied the numbers and it was you. The prize money should arrive here in a few days." Harry shook his head.
"I don't want the money. Even if they give it to me, I don't have anything to spend it on."
"Take it," Viktor said, "you earned it." The other champions left shortly after. Viktor stayed behind and sat by his bed.
"What's wrong with Cedric?" Harry asked. Viktor shook his head and smiled at Harry, sitting close to his bed. He took Harry's hand in his uninjured one.
"He's had a hard time since the third task. He's feeling guilty because he thinks he's the reason why you were left behind. When he saw you again, you were already-" Viktor's voice wavered.
"Shit," Harry cursed, rubbing his eyes. Viktor grabbed his hand again, trying to warm it in his own.
"Do not be so hard on yourself. You fought hard to stay alive. It happened so fast, none of us had time to process it. Even now, every time I look at you, I cannot believe you are still here. There was so much blood. I thought-" Viktor shuddered. "I saw them cover your face and I thought it was all over."
"I'm sorry, Viktor." Viktor shook his head again and gently touched Harry's cheek.
"Enough of this talk. You need rest, my friend. I will be back again tomorrow." Harry let Viktor tuck him back in and fell asleep obediently.
The next few days passed like this and he regained a little more movement. Despite this progress, something still felt wrong and he was always weak and cold despite hoarding all the blankets in his wing.
"You died," Smethwyck said when he asked. "You're going to be quite weak as your body recovers from, well, dying. Give yourself more time." Despite his words, Smethwyck looked worried and cast diagnostic spells frequently, frowning at the results. Harry rubbed his hands together and they would not warm no matter how many times he did that. Smethwyck's frown deepened.
"Harry, what did you cast on yourself?" Smethwyck asked, stowing his wand. He rubbed his temples, suddenly looking wearier than Harry had ever seen him, even with the amount of times he'd been in his care. "These test results are beyond simple magical exhaustion. What's more, your wounds were so serious that you should have bled out well before you made it back to Hogwarts."
"I used freezing charms to stop the bleeding."
"And?" Smethwyck was far from convinced. Harry huffed, thinking about how much he should tell him.
"You promise you won't tell anyone?"
"I'm your doctor, Harry. Aside from your guardians, I am duty-bound to keep anything you tell me confidential."
"I...developed a spell that would cannibalize on my own magical core to keep myself alive. If I use it for too long, my magical core gives out and I, well, you know." Smethwyck looked stunned and rubbed his eyes under his glasses.
"Harry, I'm so sorry we didn't help you fast enough. I'm so sorry-" Sensing what he was about to say, Harry cut in.
"No, no, Smethwyck. I knew this would happen to me. It's not your fault. No one could have saved me by the time I got to you. The spell I used. It's really dangerous. It would give anyone a few extra minutes, but after that, it uses up too much of the magical core to keep someone alive. I had already been using the spell for almost an hour by the time I made it back to Hogwarts. I was a goner and none of it was your fault."
"Harry, why would you make something like that?" Smethwyck was on the verge of tears, running more tests with his wand.
"I needed it. I was thinking of every possible outcome and being able to buy myself some time to save someone else seemed useful."
"Harry the amount of damage to your magical core could kill you if it doesn't regenerate. Promise me you will never cast that spell ever again."
"I won't, Smethwyck. Consider it forgotten. I hope I'm never in a position to use it ever again."
"Good." Smethwyck grew quiet and took off his glasses. "Harry, you were the first patient I ever lost. You weren't breathing and your heart wasn't beating no matter what I tried. How did you-" he shook his head, "nevermind, forget I asked."
"You mean how did I come back?" Harry asked, laughing a little. "I don't really know myself. I don't have answers for you. I just try not to look a gift horse in the mouth, you know?"
After a few weeks, he was allowed to go home. Harry could walk again with a few days of shaky trips through their courtyard with Draco's help and he felt almost normal. He had many visitors to the manor, most of whom waited patiently by his bed until he woke up. One day, Tonks was sitting by his bed.
"Wotcher," she said quietly. "Never thought I'd be here." Harry blinked owlishly at her from under his mound of blankets and emerged.
"I take it the Malfoys aren't mad at your mother anymore?" She shook her head.
"They're in the library catching up. It seems so silly they were ever fighting."
"How did you get them to make up?" Tonks shrugged, leaning her elbows on Harry's bed.
"Sirius always liked mum. Aunt Narcissa always missed her because she's her sister, you know? The only thing really stopping everyone from getting back together was their parents and they're all dead, so it was a sure thing." She paused, looking sadly at Harry's pale face. "Really, it was you. I wanted to see you. The first few days after the third task, you were hurt so bad, everyone thought you were dying. Well, again. The Malfoys wanted to give everyone who loved you the opportunity to see you in case-" she shook her head, blinking tears from her eyes.
"I'm sorry," Harry said, taking her hand.
"No, Harry," Tonks said, "thank you for staying alive."
"What happened? I remember a dark mark in the sky."
"Nothing but a dirty rotten trick. They had us chasing a small number of them around the grounds." she said. "We were so distracted looking for the source of the mark we didn't even notice you and the others had been taken. Then Viktor, Fleur, and Cedric showed up and said you stayed behind. It took a while to get reinforcements and figure out where they'd taken you, but Moody knew. He'd put a tracker on you."
"I asked him to."
"And good thing you did, too. Any later and who knows whether you would be here now."
"I'm glad I'm here now."
"Me too. I have dibs on you as a trainee. You have to stay alive to be my trainee, Potter."
"I will, I will," Harry said, laughing.
Harry got the chance to contact Tom one night when everyone had gone to sleep and he finally had some privacy. He was in bed holding the two-way mirror in front of him. Tom's relieved face appeared in the mirror.
"Harry," he said, "thank goodness. I can't tell you how worried I was."
"I'm okay now," Harry replied.
"You're not, and you know it."
"I know, but I will be." Harry blinked tiredly at him, just happy to see his face again.
"I felt it when you died, Harry," Tom said after a while.
"How?"
"I don't know. I got this horrible feeling like I'd lost something terribly important. I wanted to find you so badly."
"Again, I am glad you decided not to just show up at Hogwarts and alert the entire wizarding world to your presence."
"That's what I thought you'd say."
"You know me so well." Harry smiled.
"How did you get out of it alive? I heard how badly you were hurt."
"You're not going to believe this, but my parents saved me. I don't really know how, but both of them rose out of their graves to protect me."
"That makes a lot of sense. The way they left was violent, so they might have left a scrap of their spirits here."
"When I died, I saw my mum. She kept my soul from leaving my body. She was a necromancer. It answers so many questions."
"So you really died? Harry, are you really alright?"
"I am, I just have a few extra scars." He shivered again, the chill he'd been fighting rearing its head, only something was different.
"Are you alright? You look pale." Tom said. Harry got out of bed and stood, trying to run away from the feeling. He couldn't catch his breath and pain lanced up and down his whole body.
"Harry? What's wrong?"
"I-I'm I don't-" he yelped as pain shot through his legs and he fell against the bed frame. His head spun and his whole body felt as if he was slowly freezing solid.
"Harry!" Tom yelled. Harry couldn't keep his grip on the mirror and fell onto his side, back pressed against one of the bed posts. He couldn't hear what else Tom said or how long he stayed immobile on the floor.
"Harry!" he heard Tom's voice cry again. This time, however, it sounded close as if he were right there next to him. He opened his eyes and couldn't believe what he was seeing. Tom was right there, kneeling on the carpet in front of him. Harry thought he must have been hallucinating. The next moment, he was in bed again and Tom was talking to the fireplace.
"Tom?" Harry rasped, trying to sit up. He was still cold, though the fireplace was ripping hot and he was still covered in blankets.
"He's awake," Tom said into the fireplace. "Come as soon as you can. Don't let the Malfoys know I'm here. I don't want to cause him any more stress." He turned away from the fireplace and returned to Harry in a few graceful strides.
"I'm here, Harry," Tom said, taking up Harry's hand. He stroked the scars on Harry's hands and shook his head. Harry reached up to touch Tom's cheek, wanting to feel him, make sure he was really there.
"Flesh and blood," Tom said quietly, lips turned up in a mischievous smile. He combed his fingers through Harry's hair, searching his eyes.
"How did you get here? The wards-"
"-are nonsense," Tom said, laughing. "I used to sneak in here for fun just to give Lucius a scare."
Harry laughed and rolled over, wincing as his muscles protested. "Ow," he groused quietly, "why is my everything so sore?"
"Your magical core is a right mess, darling," he said. "It's like a kitten tangled it like a ball of yarn."
"Charming depiction," Harry laughed. He winced and tensed, coiling in on himself as all of his muscles seized again. It was like his body was being starved of oxygen and everything burned. Tom stroked his back soothingly, mumbling comforting things, allowing Harry to keep a vice-like grip on his hand. Harry felt warm magic enveloping his body, taking the edge off of the pain. He opened his eyes and looked at Tom. Pure magic was flowing from Tom's body into his own, like a blood infusion.
"Are you doing that?" Harry asked, out of breath.
"Yes, you need it. You're like this because your magical core is too torn up to circulate magic properly."
"Thank you." Tom smiled down at him and continued stroking his hair. Moments later, the fireplace turned green and Severus Snape stepped out, covered in ash, a flabbergasted expression on his face. His eyes immediately darted to the dark lord, who was holding Harry's hand and stroking his hair as comfortably and casually as anything. He only had time to be shocked about it for a few seconds when Harry had another fit, whimpering as he curled in on himself.
"Harry!" he cried, black cloak billowing about him as he descended upon Harry. Tom maintained his hold on Harry's hand, still funnelling magic into him.
"Magical core's not circulating fast enough," Tom said. "I'm giving him as much magic as I can, but it's not looking good. You have any of your usually reliable potions?"
"Magical core healing is fiddly," Snape replied, waving his wand about. "But I've been toying with phoenix tears and I think I have something." Harry took whatever potion he gave him obediently, brain still too fatigued to realize that Snape had found out about his connection to Tom, which would inevitably lead to more uncomfortable revelations. Tom's head snapped up and he got up, hiding in a dark corner of the room.
"Malfoys are coming. I was never here," he quipped before disillusioning himself against the wallpaper.
"Severus!" Lucius exclaimed. "The wards alerted me to your arrival. What's wrong with Harry?"
"He's had some sort of fit," Snape said, still waving his wand over Harry, trying to figure out exactly what was happening.
"He's freezing cold," Narcissa said, gathering her robe about her and taking a seat on Harry's bed. Her long, manicured fingers brushed Harry's forehead gently.
"The magic just isn't circulating properly. It wasn't reaching his extremities and just now, his magic was just stuck. It looks something like a magical heart attack."
"It's been weeks," Lucius said, "and he's not getting any better. At this rate, he may never recover." The room grew silent and nobody disagreed.
"Sev," Harry rasped, "do you know where my grandparents are?"
"What? The Potters died long before-"
"No, my mother's parents," Harry said. A curious expression passed over Snape's face.
"Harry, they passed away too, shortly before you were born," Snape said, confused.
"It's just that," Harry continued, "I saw mum when I died. She told me to go to my grandparents' house to heal, like they would know how to fix me. Where did they live?"
"I-I don't remember," Snape said. "I think I knew before, but I can't recall."
"Here, she showed me." Harry looked into Snape's eyes and conveyed through legilimency the little house on the edge of a mossy graveyard. Realization washed over Snape's features.
"Lily must have cast a memory charm to make everyone believe they were dead to protect them during the war. It wasn't uncommon. Yes, I remember. She brought me there a few times when we were in school."
"She said they didn't always live there, but that's where they live now."
"It really was Lily, wasn't it?"
"Harry, if you believe they can heal you, it's worth a shot," Lucius said, watching Snape and Harry's exchange. When the Malfoys had left the room, Tom stepped forward, grinning.
"They're different," he said, chuckling. "I always knew domestic life would soften them, but not to this extent. I like it. They're much more pleasant."
"Don't be a git, they were always nice," Harry said, laughing. He held out his hand again and Tom took it. Both of them looked at Snape, who hadn't said anything in some time and found him staring wide-eyed at the both of them.
"Oh, I think we broke him," Tom said.
"I don't blame him," Harry said.
"Severus," Tom said, snapping Snape out of his thoughts. Snape kneeled before him.
"My lord," he began. Tom held up a finger and said, "Show me your mark." Snape unrolled his sleeve and bared his mark, still red against his pale skin. Tom ran his fingers down the length of the mark and gradually, the mark faded away. Snape's eyes widened, but he did not dare pull away.
"I'm back to the way I was, Severus," Tom said, placing a trusting hand on Snape's shoulder. "I have no need for a thing like this anymore. Now, I'm sure you have questions, but Harry needs to rest."
"Sev-" Harry started. Snape and Tom both shushed him. Tom tucked him in and smiled at him.
"I'll take care of it, Harry. Let me worry about it. Sleep." Snape's eyes were fixed on Tom. Harry relaxed back into his pillows and watched them leave through the fireplace.
Early the next morning, Snape led the Malfoys, Harry, and Sirius up a winding country road that led to the gated entrance of a mossy graveyard hidden by a smattering of trees.
"We're here," Snape said.
"I can't believe I forgot this place," Sirius said. "We used to come here in the summers. The whole gang."
"Memory charms are tricky," Snape said. Draco and Harry took in the lovely green countryside. Draco supported Harry under on arm, if only to steady him. An older woman with pure white hair was tending to some bushes near the gate and stood when she heard the commotion of the approaching party of people. She took one look at Harry, threw open the little gate, and took him into her arms. She was a little shorter than he was, slim as a willow tree, but muscular from years of outdoor work.
"Oh, it's you!" she cried. Harry accepted the embrace, knowing who she was by her brilliant green eyes. She pulled away and looked at him, taking his face into her hands. She had laugh lines and her skin was freckled by the sun, and he could see his mother in her every feature. She smelled like roses and soil.
"Albert!" She yelled over her shoulder. An older man with graying blond hair and a lanky frame emerged from behind the house. When he saw Harry, he dropped the trowel he was using and ran to them, joining the woman in holding Harry close.
"We always hoped," he said, weeping. "It doesn't matter now, as long as you're here, child." When they pulled away at last, they looked apologetically at the group around them.
"I'm sorry, I completely forgot about introductions. My name is Rose Evans. I'm your grandmother. This is Albert Evans, your grandfather."
"Your eyes," Harry said, looking down at her, "they're just like mum's."
"She had to get them from somewhere, spud," she said.
"This is my family," Harry said, gesturing to the group of people surrounding him. They went around introducing themselves and Rose ushered them into the little house. Once inside, Harry almost didn't notice a familiar looking blond woman doing the dishes at the sink.
"You!" cried Narcissa. "There is a court order preventing you from being near magical children. I'm sorry, but I insist that you leave." Petunia Dursley hastily wiped her hands and started bolting towards the door, mumbling soft apologies as she went, but Harry stopped her and interrupted the shouting adults.
"It's okay!" Harry stood between Petunia and the others, arms protectively outstretched. "That man hurt her too. I've made my peace with her and with Dudley."
"No," Petunia said, gently. "I wronged you, Harry. So badly. I can't be forgiven. I'll go."
"Petunia, he's forgiven you. Let it be, girl." Albert said, holding his daughter's hand.
"I cannot forgive you for what you did to your own nephew," Sirius said, "and I will hold you accountable for Lily's sake. If Harry wants to forgive you, however, I have no right to say otherwise. None of us do."
"Agreed," Narcissa said. Lucius and Draco were silent, though they looked every bit as put off by Petunia's presence as Narcissa.
"Thank you," Harry said, suddenly tired.
"You need a chair," Rose said, laughing. "You're just as long and lanky as your father. Always looked like a tree that could blow over in a strong wind." The atmosphere lightened a little and Petunia left them to make tea. Rose left the room and came back with an old tin filled with pictures of Lily and Harry studied each one, trying to memorize every feature of her face. Snape looked suspiciously like he was about to burst into tears and his bottom lip quivered slightly, but he managed to hold his tears at bay. A few hours later, Dudley arrived home carrying a rather large box of tulip bulbs. Harry needed to look twice at the stocky boy with tanned skin and a kind expression on his face. He was hardly recognizable.
"Cousin!" Dudley cried, dropping the crate onto the floor with a thud and a shower of soil.
"Aw Dudley, look at the mess," Rose said, tone still gentle even as she scolded him.
"I'll clean it, gran," he said sheepishly. Sirius pulled out his wand and restored the soil to the crate.
"Oh wow, so all this magic was real? I thought I'd dreamed all of it," Dudley said, laughing. He looked awkwardly around the room and cleared his throat.
"Cousin," he began, "I owe you a real apology. I was rotten to you for no reason. I did some thinking and didn't like myself from the way I treated you. I know you can't forgive me right away, but I'm glad you're here."
"I do forgive you, Dudley," Harry said. "You apologized. There's not much more I can really ask for. You were a kid."
"So were you. That's no excuse for me," Dudley said. "I'll need a long time to make up for it."
They families chatted at length, everyone still a little uneasy about Dudley and Petunia being there, but they were civil. The Malfoys got the Evanses caught up on all that happened to Harry at school. Harry found out that Dudley was in the local school and steadily catching up on what he'd missed. He was also seeing a counselor, given the charges against his father. Petunia was also in school training to become a nurse.
"I'm a retired doctor," Rose said, jerking a thumb at the medical degree hanging on her wall. "Petunia always had the talent to go into medicine. It's better late than never," she said, cackling.
"Albert, what did you do?" Narcissa asked, filling everyone's teacups again.
"Oh I was a coroner. We met in the hospital we both worked at. It's come in handy given we're now the local undertakers. The graveyard's been in Rose's family for generations."
"Really? I never knew that," Harry said, still thumbing through the photographs.
"We took it over again when my father died. He was taking care of this place up until your mother started school. I ran a small practice in town and Albert helped take care of the grounds while I was working." Rose talked with a biscuit hanging halfway out of her mouth as her hands busied themselves pulling her hair into a messy bun. Sirius started telling the Malfoys about the time he spent there in his school days and the Evanses joined in, poking fun at the antics they pulled when they were younger. Harry got up from the table to look around the house. Dudley gave him a tour of the house. There was a small living room adjoining the kitchen and Harry picked up a photograph that looked like his parents' wedding. He traced the lines of their faces with his fingers and smiled.
Suddenly, he was freezing again and bolts of pain climbed up and down his spine, bringing him to his hands and knees. The frame in his hands clattered to the floor. Dudley sputtered, not knowing in the slightest how to help, but trying to anyway. Harry fell to the side and heard the others rushing towards him, but it was like he was being pulled slowly under icy water and the sounds were far away.
When Harry woke, he could tell night had fallen and he was tucked into a soft bed with a mountain of quilts. He felt warm for the first time in ages and wondered why. He looked around blearily and saw Rose and Petunia sitting on either side of his bed, hands touching his bare chest, Petunia's hands on top of Rose's. Their hands glowed softly, pulsing with energy that was not magic.
"Welcome back, spud," Rose said, smiling down at him. "You gave us a scare there."
"What happened? How are you doing this?" He looked into the astral plane and saw plain as day that their bodies were somehow channeling brilliant spiritual energy like the energy from the graveyard into his body, slowly pulling the strands of his magical core back together.
"You can see for yourself," Rose said, "we're healing you." At length, she nodded at Petunia and they took their hands away. Rose tugged Harry's open pyjama top closed, sad eyes lingering on the scars criss crossing his torso. Harry saw that his magical core was much improved, the threads of magic no longer torn and tangled, though bits of it were still missing.
"Your core was very badly damaged, Harry," Rose said, gently patting his cheek. "It'll take some time, even with our help. I made your family go home to rest. They're good people."
"I'm so confused. How-?"
"I know you have questions," Rose said, her voice soothing and whisper-like, "but we can answer them tomorrow. For now, you need sleep." Harry relaxed back into his pillows.
"Where am I?" Harry asked. He looked around and the small room was filled with pictures and a jumble of things he couldn't place with the fatigue weighing heavy upon his brain. He felt like he was intruding into someone else's space. "Whose room is this? I'm sorry for being a bother."
"This is your mother's old room, Harry," Petunia said, a small smile creeping onto her face. "You're no bother."
"This room's been empty for a long time, Harry," Rose said. She smiled and pulled up Harry's covers. "It's probably happy someone is sleeping here again." Rose began humming a sweet song, gentle and soft, as her hand patted rhythmically on Harry's chest. Harry's eyelids drifted shut and he gave up fighting sleep. The room smelled like his mother even though it had been unoccupied in all that time and he fell asleep comforted by the scent.
Harry woke again in the cold, gray morning. He sat bolt upright, heart pounding. Something at the edge of his mind was calling him and an intense longing created an aching feeling in his chest. He got up and his bare feet hit the wooden floor of his mother's old bedroom. Without a real sense of where he was going, he opened the window and climbed out. As his feet made contact with the grass, Harry felt something in the graveyard before him calling to him like an old friend. Harry crossed the graveyard and with each step, the graves grew older. The far edge of the property was guarded by a grand oak tree situated on a little hill and Harry's legs brought him straight there. He sat there for a time watching the still dim sky lighten. There was something comforting and familiar about the scene before him. He leaned against the gnarled old wood and fell asleep again, hands digging into the soft grass beneath him.
A few hours later, Harry awoke again, the same call from before rousing him from his slumber. The sky was bright orange, clearing away some of the morning mist. He felt good and whole again.
You are restored, Legion hummed in his mind. This place is old and sacred. It is your birthright that you should come here. We sense that you and those who share your blood have an innate affinity to control spiritual energy, the very same that circulates throughout the astral plane. Again, we know not why. This place has taken a liking to you as well and made you whole again.
Harry looked into his magical core again and saw the same brilliant light as before filling in the jagged tears in his magical core.
"Why? I haven't done anything to deserve this," Harry said, wondering at the brilliant spiritual energy surrounding him lovingly.
Places like these have minds of their own. Their whims are unknowable, even to us. For now, believe that this graveyard, like the one from before, has accepted you as a master of death. Its power is yours to wield.
Harry surveyed the land before him and a sense of deja vu struck him again, though this was the first time he'd ever laid eyes on the place. He saw a wisp of magic coiling around the graveyard, the ghost of a spell long worn away. Tentatively, he funelled his own magic into the shape of the old spell. All around the garden, white lilies sprouted, clinging to the tombstones and lining the winding paths. These weren't imitation flowers like with most transfiguration spells, but real, living flowers that would grow even without his help. Looking down at his own hands, Harry noticed that the scars covering his palms and fingers were glowing softly like Rose's hands had. He sighed. That would be hard to explain. Rose and Albert emerged from the house moments later, shocked beyond words at the state of the graveyard. They walked slowly through the field of lilies towards Harry.
"Did you do this?" Albert asked when they reached him.
"I did. There was an old spell left here and something was telling me to cast it." Harry rubbed his hands together, the only part of him that remained stubbornly cold. Rose and Albert sat next to him in the grass.
"Lily used to sit right here and grow these flowers. They bloomed every year without fail, but they disappeared the day she died." Rose dabbed at her eyes with the sleeve of her robe. Harry held her hand, rubbing it affectionately.
"I miss her," he said. Rose smiled and patted his hand.
"We do too, lad," Albert said as he put an arm around Harry's shoulder and brought him close. "But you're here now and it's like we have a little bit of her back."
"Alright, spud. I know you have questions. Fire away." Rose said a few hours later. They were finishing up breakfast and seated at the large table in the dining room. Petunia sat near Rose busying herself with some mending.
"How is it that all of you can use spiritual energy? Are you all necromancers?"
"No, Albert can't use it. Only my side had that talent. We can't bring anyone back to life. We can only help heal minor injuries and ease pain. The people with this gift have used it to ease the ill into the afterlife, prolonging their lives long enough to say their goodbyes and easing their pain."
"But how? None of you were witches or wizards?"
"There's an old family legend. We were the first to use this land to bury the dead. One of our ancestors had a near death experience and decided to dig his own grave. When he laid down in the grave to die, he was miraculously healed and could heal others."
"What about mum? She was definitely a necromancer."
"How do you know that?"
"I saw her when I died." Rose was aghast.
"Your family mentioned you were hurt badly, not that you died."
"I was dead for a few minutes," Harry said, still rubbing his hands together. Rose grabbed his hands gently, feeling the scars and nodding her head.
"That explains these and why they're so cold. You touched the other side, didn't you?"
"I-I don't know. I'd bled onto the grave dirt and I drew power from the graveyard itself through my hands. It was like my parents' ghosts were guiding me to do it to save me." Rose nodded again.
"A few of our family went too far with our powers and slipped away to the other side. No one could fully harness the power to bring back the dead or stop someone dying. Then your mother was born, full of magic and our gift. She learned to do what none of us could ever do and wielded the power over life and death."
"Could she hear the spirits too?"
"Hear the spirits? Whatever do you mean?" Harry realized what he'd said and floundered, feeling like he'd said something wrong.
We permit it, Legion said, words echoing through his brain. A breeze blew open the window and through the small dining room, startling Rose.
"I can hear the spirits. They've taken care of me since I was a baby. They're like the souls of everyone who has ever lived and everyone who will ever live. That was them."
"Oh my word," Rose said, staring wide-eyed at Harry. "No, your mother could never do that. She figured it out intuitively, but it always seemed like she could talk to the graveyard."
"It has a mind of its own," Harry said, nodding. Rose stared at him.
"Your mother used to say that too. This is creepy, spud," she said, shaking herself.
"You live in a graveyard and you think I'm creepy?"
"How dare you call your own gran creepy?" Rose looked scandalized and Harry laughed at the expression on her face.
"You're a true necromancer, Harry," Rose said. "No one has ever befriended the actual spirits like you have. You have so much power, more than me, your mother, your aunt, or any of our blood."
"Why me? Why mum? Why did she hide you from me?"
"I can only answer one of those questions. Lily was desperate to hide this place and keep it safe. Imagine what the Death Eaters would have done if they found out about this place and its powers. The spell she put on us was the only way we could be kept safe." As Rose finished speaking, Harry deflated a little and sat back in his chair. His questions had been answered and yet more appeared before him.
"What's wrong, Harry?" Rose asked gently. Her eyes were sympathetic.
"I just wish she was still here. This is all just so much bigger than me."
"I know, Harry. Just remember that you and your mother were gifts to this world. The things you can do are wondrous. Your gift might make life difficult for you at times, but it is such a special power that can do so much good. We will always be here to talk about it and someday, you will find someone who loves you who you can talk to about it, too."
Harry looked to Petunia. "Aunt Petunia, do you know that he's dead?"
Petunia took a shuddering breath. "The police called to tell us he escaped. I was so afraid he would come for us, I came back here. I guess I'm thankful. How-how did you find out?" She wiped a tear from her cheek.
"I need to show you," Harry said, looking calmly at her face. He called out to Legion, asking them to bring Alistair and the other wraiths. In moments, the wraiths were lined up in formation, ghostly robes shimmering in the sunlight. Harry brought Rose and Petunia out to meet them.
"Oh my," Albert said as they appeared. "Life is never dull with you all and your gifts." He laughed good naturedly and puttered away to do more gardening. He took Dudley with him, who looked a little afraid of the wraiths.
"Deathseeker," Alistair rasped, bowing. "What is it you wish of us?"
"I wish to see the wraith that was once my uncle." One wraith emerged, as gray and bony as the other.
"These wraiths take care of the souls damaged severely by their cruelty. They can't pass on the normal way, so they get put to use like this to try to heal the broken souls that can be fixed. Uncle's soul was very damaged, so he became this. He'd found me at school...and I killed him." Harry looked down at his feet. Petunia was frozen, transfixed by the wraith before him. A few tears escaped from her eyes and she covered her mouth, nodding. Rose comforted her.
"If you had to kill him," Petunia said, "then he was probably trying to kill you, too. Harry, I'm so sorry. I should have notified your school or-"
"There was no way you could have," Harry said, shaking his head.
"Oh, Harry. I'm so unbelievably sorry you had to do such a thing."
Harry swallowed, remembering the tearing of his uncle's flesh in his talons. He felt sick.
"Deathseeker, it was not you who took his breath," Alistair said, palms held out, facing the sky. "In taking his soul, we took his breath."
"I brought him to the brink of death and then I asked you to take him. It's the same."
"Harry, you're not being fair to yourself," Rose said, hugging him to her again. "That man hurt you. You did what you had to do to survive."
"Yes, Harry," Petunia said, tentatively placing a comforting hand on his shoulder. "I'm so sorry you have to carry the weight of ending someone's life. You've saved me and Dudley too, Harry. We're safe from him now. Whatever love I had for him was long gone and this way, he has a chance to right his wrongs. Dudley will never grow up to be like him." she said, looking up at her husband's wraith.
"These wraiths are wondrous creatures," Rose said, looking at Alistair admiringly.
"We also find this place, as you say, wondrous," Alistair said, hands still upturned towards the sky. "There is great power here. Many souls have passed through this land and they are all at peace. It is tranquil here."
"Well you all are welcome to stay as long as you don't scare the villagers. They're a sensitive lot."
"Alistair, do you think you can help protect this graveyard? Maybe help my gran in case a spirit decides to linger?"
"That would be acceptable. Some of us shall linger here as long as we are welcome." Harry wasn't sure Dudley would appreciate his new neighbors, but he could get used to them.
The Malfoys came for Harry a few hours later, relieved that Harry was recovered. The explanation was that Rose's family had latent healing powers that were potent enough to help Harry fully recover. Harry left his grandparents with promises to visit and to send letters. The Malfoys left them with their own owl so they could send their own post.
"You're looking much better," Draco said when they arrived at the manor.
"I feel better," Harry said. "I was getting sick of being stuck in bed."
"Don't overdo it or I'll tell on you to Smethwyck," Draco replied, laughing. Harry socked him in the shoulder.
"I'm fine," Harry said. The Malfoys spent the next few hours catching up on what Harry had missed while he was recovering. The ministry had conducted a full investigation into Barty Sr.'s corruption and unearthed a large-scale plot to assassinate the leaders of magical governments using the triwizard tournament model, which was to be transplanted to other countries once the trial run in Britain was over. What's more, there were memories in a pensive in his office that showed he was responsible for the attacks on Frank and Alice Longbottom. An inquiry was underway to determine whether Barty Crouch Jr. was ever involved. Igor Karkaroff died soon after the tournament ended from a long illness attributed to his failing liver.
"He quite literally pickled himself to death," Lucius said. "Good riddance. Perhaps Durmstrang will actually prosper now that the traitor is dead."
The Malfoys got quiet after a little while, like they were holding something back.
"What? What's happened?" Harry asked.
"Harry, we didn't want to tell you when you were still ill," Narcissa said gently. "Professor Moody has also passed. They think it was a heart attack."
"We're so sorry, Harry. We know you were close," Draco said. Harry tried his best to look downcast.
"I'm okay," he said. "The old bat was always going to kick it early. Just wish I had the chance to say goodbye or to at least thank him for saving my life."
Harry then busied himself sifting through the pile of letters he'd received while he was recovering. Viktor went home to Bulgaria and he was focusing on his quidditch career. Hermione went with him to meet his family. There was an open invitation for Harry to visit him once he was well. Harry wrote back to accept. Fleur was working at Gringotts as a curse breaker. Harry wrote back, asking her to send Bill Weasley his thanks. Cedric was recovering well and St. Mungo's had fitted him with the latest prosthetic leg copied from muggle designs with magical enhancements. He apologized in his letter for slowing them down in the graveyard. Harry wrote back to him, too, trying to reassure him that it wasn't his fault. Harry made a mental note to talk to him once they were back at school. The last letter he received was from Percy Weasley. It was short and to the point, addressing the proposition he'd given him earlier before the third task. Harry grinned and wrote back with instructions.
"Harry, where on earth did you get all this money?" Percy asked, exasperated at the documents before him. They were Gringotts account statements showing the investments Harry had made since he gained control of his account. The two of them were in the leaky cauldron and it was late. They were in a quiet, dark corner of the little pub and Harry cast a thick layer of disillusionment charms. He'd snuck out of Malfoy Manor fairly easily. He found the same hole in the wards Tom used to get in and flooed to the leaky cauldron.
"My parents' fortune is still being held in trust by Gringotts. This is from the sale of the basilisk parts from last year. I went ahead and invested in a few things, but nothing big. I also sold a license for my broom design to Quality Quidditch Supplies and I'm planning on investing in broom production. That's all I've had time to do."
"What do you want me to do with it?" Percy asked, astonished.
"Grow it. Take a reasonable salary and take what I have and invest it in profitable businesses. Oh and take this and give it to Fred and George." Harry tossed a heavy coin purse onto the table. It was the winnings from the tournament.
"Fred and George? Why?"
"Are you kidding? They want to open a joke shop. Been talking about it all year. Just tell them you put in a good word for them with your new employer and he's interested in becoming a part owner. I'll front the cost of startup and they supply their creativity. We can negotiate more funds as the business comes along."
"What am I calling you? I can't just say that I'm working for a shady man of leisure."
"I'm registered under Legion Ltd."
This is most unamusing, Legion muttered darkly. Harry ignored them and grinned.
"Okay, I suppose." Percy buried his nose back in the documents. When he emerged, he was smiling.
"Harry, I know what you're doing. You could have continued as you were and continued making a profit."
"It's much easier for me to get someone else to help me with this. I'm rather busy. I don't actually need the money. I just felt like helping business ventures that I believed in and it's more of a hobby than anything."
"Still, thank you. You really didn't have to."
"I did. You gave up defending Crouch and helped expose him for his treachery. You also proved that you could keep a secret working for a guy like that, so I can trust you to remain discreet."
"I will. I won't let this second chance go to waste."
Once the meeting was over, Harry flooed back home to Malfoy Manor. Relieved that no one had discovered his absence, he collapsed into bed and crawled under the covers. His dreams were as tumultuous as usual, but he slept deeply. Harry awoke violently when someone touched his shoulder. Whoever it was grabbed his flailing fists and dodged a leg.
"You really are doing better," Snape said as Harry blinked up at him. "I had gotten used to you sleeping like you were comatose. It's been a while since I had to dodge."
"Morning Sev," Harry said, stretching luxuriously. "What are you doing here so early?"
Severus clenched and unclenched his hands a few times and cleared his throat. "I had a long and interesting talk with the dark lord."
"And how much did he tell you?" Harry asked, a little scared of what the answer would be.
"He told me that you helped him regain his body and that you cured him of an illness that made him go mad during the war. He also said that you...are a necromancer." He looked at Harry pointedly.
"All true. Go on. What else did he say?"
"That you're insufferably nosy, but you're talented."
"Aw, that was generous of him."
"Necromancy?"
"Well, yes. Remember the door I wouldn't let you and Professor McGonagall enter while you were in my mind last year?"
"Yes."
"That's where my knowledge of the astral plane lives. The spirits raised me when I had no one. I'm sorry I didn't tell you."
"No, Harry. I understand. True necromancy is unheard of and you had a lot to be afraid of." Snape seemed zoned out, but Harry could sense his emotions were tied up in knots. There was something like blissful happiness, but a great deal of confusion.
"Why do you have such a weird look on your face?" Harry asked, getting up and looking for something to wear.
"Nothing, it's just...this is all...too good to be true. I'm expecting to wake up and this would all be a dream. The dark lord isn't trying to kill you, the headmaster who I thought was evil isn't evil, and that fantastical theory every dark family had about you was true." He continued staring off into space. Harry continued getting dressed.
"What fantastical theory?"
"Oh the one where people said you were actually a dark wizard who would help bring the dark lord back to his full power."
"Well it's half wrong and half right. Tom's back, but the full power everyone's talking about was him going barking mad. I don't think anyone wants that back." Snape wagged his finger in agreement.
"You have a point there. He had a full conversation with me without throwing me out of the room. I don't remember the last time I could speak to him in full sentences." He laughed a couple of times, still zoning out.
"Did he do anything to you? You seem a little loopy."
"No, I'm perfectly myself. Yesterday, my life was in turmoil. Today, it is still in turmoil, but the kind I have hope will end in the best possible way."
"Okay, well, I'm glad you're taking all of this well. I'm going to pack."
"Are you going somewhere?"
"Yes, I'm going to Bulgaria."
"Oh have fun." Snape wafted out of the room. Harry shook his head.
Tom visited again that night, entering through the courtyard. Harry woke with his usual violent gusto and Tom sputtered, effortlessly dodging him while laughing.
"I'm glad you're feeling better," Tom said, releasing his hold on Harry's foot.
"Sorry," Harry said, straightening himself out. "What are you doing here? One of these days Mr. Malfoy is going to notice you're here and then the whole house is going to be in chaos."
"Oh I doubt it. He hasn't caught me yet." Tom sat on Harry's bed. Harry noticed a magical energy signature hovering outside.
"You bring a friend?"
"Knew it wouldn't get past you. Barty," Tom called, "come out. He knows you're there." Someone cursed and a pale, lanky man with freckles and short blonde hair flying in all directions dressed in a surprisingly well tailored suit and robes entered the room.
"Er, hi, I'm-"
"Still a barmy old coot, even if you do look better. Gotta say, never pictured you in a suit." Harry could tell instantly who the man was from the memory in the pensieve. His magic, Harry sensed, was identical to the fake Moody's. "Hi Barty."
Barty's mouth opened and closed and it finally settled on a very pleasant smile. "Didn't anyone teach you not to interrupt, son?"
"Not you, clearly, but then again, our lessons were so much more practical."
"I see nearly dying didn't dampen your snark." Barty also sat on Harry's bed and ruffled his hair. "I'm glad you're alive, Harry. If you hadn't lived the dark lord here would have skinned me alive."
"Oh, I wouldn't go that far," Tom said, scrunching up his nose. "Would you really still be here if you were under constant threat of maiming?"
"No, I know, but Harry here is important to you. I would have been maimed by being in your general bubble of rage."
"You're really recovered?" Tom asked, taking Harry's hand. "Your hands are still cold."
"I am. You won't believe it." Harry told them all about his mother's side of the family and their affinity towards spiritual magic.
"That's incredible," Tom said, thinking. "To think that the power laid with muggles this whole time. No one would have thought to look there for answers to the problems surrounding necromancy."
"The spiritual energy built up at that old graveyard formed a sentient being who decided to give my family spiritual power. It happened completely on a whim, apparently." Harry remembered something and fished something out from his bedside table.
"I forgot," he said, presenting the toy soldier to Tom. "I need to give this back." Tom's soul thrummed with power within the toy soldier where he'd transferred it from the diadem.
"What did you do with the diadem?"
"That old thing? Geeked out over the enchantments on it and destroyed it, of course. People have died over that thing."
"You need to tell the grey lady that. Might even get her to pass on."
"You think? Okay, you're stalling. Hold still while I give you back part of your soul." Barty looked dumbstruck at both of them.
"I'll explain later," Tom said to Barty. Harry put his hands on Tom's shoulders and concentrated on extracting the soul and knitting it back into place with the rest of Tom's soul. Tom sounded pained, but he remained still.
"Done," Harry said when it was over. He looked down at his hands. The scars covering his hands were glowing a brilliant white. Tom took them in his own and stroked the scars.
"This is new."
"Grandmother thinks it's because I touched the astral plane with my hands by using them to absorb spiritual energy from the grave dirt. It's also why they're always cold." Harry tried willing his hands to stop glowing, but the light was fading at its own slow pace.
"How do you feel?" Harry asked.
"Your hands are glowing and you want to know how I feel?" Tom laughed. "I feel better. Powerful. Since I already have the newest horcruxes in me, any subsequent additions shouldn't mess with my personality or my memories."
"That's great," Harry said, relieved. "I was worried you'd turn into an amnesiac every time I did this." Tom smiled at him.
"Forget you?" He said, "Never. You know I was having some mixed feelings putting my horcruxes back together. I see now that it's for the best. Tearing apart my soul wasn't the brightest idea and it's only cost me power and sanity."
"Dying's not so bad, either," Harry said, a far away look in his eyes. "It's sort of like going to sleep after being tired for a whole lifetime." Both Tom and Barty had sad expressions on their faces.
"It's pretty terrible for the person who carried you all the way back to Hogwarts only to have you die on arrival," Barty said, awkwardly looking away from Harry's face. The words were clearly meant to be a joke, but his tone was anything but humorous.
"I'm sorry, Barty," Harry said. "I won't do that to you again. Promise."
They spent a few more hours catching up on Tom's activities. Lupin had made it to the werewolf colony and was working on buying a building to house them. Harry made a mental note to tell Percy to help them out. Tom was working on finding his original followers, many of whom had renounced him when he went mad. He had a better plan for changing the wizarding world, one that was a lot less bloody.
"We can change things for the better by first gaining influence in all magical nations, swaying the people who hold the purse strings. Then we infiltrate the government with our own or use our influence to lobby for the measures we want. I don't want to be the only person running the show this time. I want input from the greatest thinkers we have on offer and then I will make magical governments listen." Tom looked energized and motivated, no longer manic. Barty looked at him with pride in his eyes. This is how it could have been, should have been, long ago when he was a new Hogwarts graduate ready to do great things. They left him very late into the night when Harry was too tired to keep his eyes open. The next morning, Harry woke to find a gift box with a pair of gloves on his bedside table. They were black and made of very light, thin material that was light enough for daily wear. He smiled and tugged them on to find that they'd been enchanted to keep his hands warm.
Harry left for Bulgaria soon after to visit Viktor. Hermione had gone back to England, but Harry was still glad to see Viktor. The Malfoys saw him off as Harry flooed to the Krum house. When he emerged from the fireplace, the entire household had come to greet him.
"Welcome to our home, Mr. Potter," an older man said. He had dark hair and shared his son's serious features and muscular build. Harry shook his hand, which was large and calloused.
"We have heard so much from Viktor about you," Viktor's mother said, embracing Harry and yanking his head down to eye level so that she could plant kisses on both of his cheeks. She had long, dark hair and there was an everlasting cheer to her face.
"You have a lovely home," Harry said.
"Thank you. I built it with my own hands. Doing things without magic, you know?" Viktor's father said, gesturing to the expansive house. Viktor stepped closer and threw an arm around Harry's shoulders.
"Father, please, you will talk the day away if you start rambling about the house. Harry has a lot to see."
"Your father is just proud, darling. Take him and have a good time." Viktor's mother was small, but it was clear she had her husband wrapped around her finger.
The two of them headed out of the house down a lovely green hill speckled with flowers. From the hill, Harry could see a bustling magical city sheltered by the mountains to the north. The roads were made for walking and the city blended in with the surrounding forest.
"Viktor, this place is beautiful." Harry said as they made their way towards the city center.
"I love it here. No press. This is my home, where I am just Viktor."
"You've taken care to prevent the public from finding out. That's good. Last thing you need is fans swarming your house."
"This place is worth protecting." They continued walking through town. Viktor showed him all his old haunts, introduced him to his neighbors, and made him try so much food, he thought he would burst. At the end of the day, he and Viktor were perched atop one of the tallest buildings in the city, legs dangling over the edge as they admired the sunset.
"That was wonderful," Harry said. His hair was flowing freely in the breeze and he was enjoying the cool night air. Viktor smiled at him.
"I am also happy that I could show you and Hermione my home."
"You know this means you have to visit me too." Harry said, chuckling. "The Malfoys would love to have you and Draco is a huge fan. You also need to meet my pet snake."
"You have a pet snake? I don't do well with snakes."
"What? Aw, no, he's harmless. He's a python, so no poison. I'll even tell him not to constrict you. He's a good boy, I promise." Viktor took a long look at Harry and sighed.
"I will meet the snake, but touching him is out of the question." Harry laughed.
"I am glad to see a smile on your face again." There was a joyous smile on Viktor's face, but there was still something sad about his expression.
"What's wrong?" Harry asked, hugging his knees to his chest.
"Nothing," Viktor answered, shaking his head. "I just need to keep reminding myself that you are alive. That we made it out of that mess and you are still here. My mind lingers on that night. I thought the world had ended when I thought you were gone."
Harry put his hands on Viktor's face and looked him in the eye. "I'm here, aren't I? Safe and sound."
"Yes, but you were dead. You went somewhere I could not follow." Viktor touched Harry's small, gloved hands. "You sacrificed yourself for us, Harry. I was angry, desperately sad, grateful, but hurt that you would leave us behind. We were supposed to take on those people together."
"I'm sorry," Harry said, wrapping his arms around Viktor. "I didn't think about any of that when I did it. I just couldn't stand the thought of any of you dying. I was the one they were after. It just...seemed like the logical choice. The choice with the least loss. It was a sacrifice that I felt I could afford making."
"And that is why I could never be angry with your decision. Your first thought is always to sacrifice yourself for the sake of others." Viktor fell silent for a little while. "Do you...remember anything?" Harry thought for a little while and turned to look at the brilliant stars in the night's sky.
"I don't remember much. The last thing I remember is looking up at the stars and then everything was dark. It was like I was floating in water. It was so cold." Harry looked back at Viktor. "What happened while I was gone?"
"When you came back, everyone was cheering because they thought you were safe. When your healer started yelling at his team, we knew something was wrong. You were screaming." Viktor took a shuddering breath.
"They wouldn't let us near you. You stopped breathing and we knew it was over. Your godfather and the Malfoys were allowed to see you. They closed your eyes and covered you with a cloak." Viktor's eyes took on a faraway look. "Everyone on the field went quiet. I have never seen so many people so silent."
"I had no idea I would cause so much pain."
"Don't you see, Harry?" Viktor asked, smiling. "You are a special person in this world. Many people love you and care about you. Even strangers see you and find hope. Your mark on the world is much larger than you ever imagined."
"I'm just not used to it. I spent most of my life thinking that nobody cared about me, that I could pass through life as if I was never here."
"I know, and it is not your fault that you used to think that way." Viktor said. "No one blames you. Everyone has heard the story of what you went through. But you have a family now and you have me. I think of you as a brother and I would be very sad if you were truly gone. I am not alone in thinking this."
Harry sighed and nodded. "I know. Well, now I know. It was all so much simpler before. Being a person is difficult"
"It's just another part of living, I'm afraid." Viktor laughed and ruffled Harry's hair. The rest of Harry's visit was pleasant and he spent his days touring the city and flying near the hills with Viktor. When he left, he promised Viktor that he would write.