Disclaimer: I do not own any part of Harry Potter, Labyrinth or anything else you may recognise.
A/N: Thanks for all the reviews! I really appreciate them. If you have any questions please review/PM me, and I'll do my best to answer. Thanks to FaeriesMidwife for the kind permission to use of ideas from Lost and Lonely in this fic. Would anyone like to Beta? If so, email me: rianess at lycos dot co dot uk
Thanks!
Chapter Two
"There's such a fooled heart
Beating so fast in search of new dreams
A love that will last within your heart
I'll place the moon within your heart."
20th May, 2005 - Somewhere in the Underground
"Jareth…"
The Goblin King's head turned at the sound of someone calling his name. Smiling with anticipation at what games he could play with yet another foolish mortal, he summoned a sphere and studied it carefully. Something caught his eye.
Funny…it looked like a mortal, it sounded like a mortal…but it didn't feel like a mortal. Tricks! Someone was playing tricks!
"Jareth…" His name almost sounded like a caress, whispered with such a delicious sense of longing.
Perhaps this mortal was something special? Though, he was wary of doing anything out of the ordinary, he had been so stung the last time he let a mortal in, though he could hardly be blamed for what happened with Sarah Williams. She did have the book after all. But then, this mortal did too…so strange. Where did he get it?
"I wish the Goblin King would come and take me away, right now."
Ah, show time!
20th May, 2005 - Jareth's Throne Room, The Castle Beyond the Goblin City
"Well, well, well, what do we have here then? Wake up foolish mortal. For you, the hereafter begins today..."
The voice drifted across Harry's consciousness, and stirred something in him which he didn't recognise. He tried to prise his eyes open, but his head was pounding. He groaned and rubbed a hand against his forehead, trying to ease the pain. A low chuckle caught his attention and he blinked, slowly clearing the dust from his eyes and focusing on the face in front of him.
And Merlin! What a face it was...
The hair paler than the moonlight, the strange eyes, which looked so foreign and yet were so compelling. He felt lost all of a sudden, and unworthy of being in the presence of such an exquisite being. He was very aware of his awkward and gangly body, which had never really settled down from being a teenager into adulthood. He often felt like his real body had been forced into this shell, and was trying to break free. Which was ridiculous in itself.
"He-Hello..." He said, feeling totally inadequate, but not really knowing what else to say.
"Hello yourself. Welcome to my Kingdom young man. It will be your home for the rest of your life." The creature replied, and Harry guessed that this must be the Goblin King.
"J-Jareth?" He gasped, mentally cursing himself for sounding like an idiot. But truly, this was all rather overwhelming. He could feel the magic literally pouring off the man, and it made his own magical core, imprisoned these long years, stir with an aching kind of yearning.
"My, my, my, aren't we just the articulate little mortal? Or should that be morsel? Yes, I am Jareth. And you called for me. So, do you really wish to spend your eternity here, in my power? For if you do not, then there is only one chance for you to return Aboveground." All this was delivered in a low, sultry voice which made the hairs on the back of Harry's neck stand on end. The King's voice coupled with that face, and those eyes mesmerised him, and he wasn't really paying that much attention to the actual words.
"Yessss…" Harry hissed, not even realising he was speaking in Parseltongue. It was strange that when his powers had been bound, he did not lose the ability he had gained from Voldemort. Though, he supposed that since it was such an obscure gift, no one really knew if it was attached to one's core or not.
And, even if it was, it didn't require the employment of any spell; it was just like using another language, similar to when one learns French or Spanish. Though, one could not learn to speak Parseltongue, of course. He suddenly realised that the King was staring at him, surprise evident in his expression.
Jareth was in fact momentarily taken aback. He had not been expecting such a thing from this new arrival. Though, he did sense something unusual about him before, and maybe this was what it was.
"So this fellow can speak the language of the serpents? Interesting. I wonder what other secrets he is concealing…" He thought to himself, and decided he would need to spend some time puzzling this odd young creature out. In fact, he was rather looking forward to it.
"Come, you must be tired and need your rest. Let us adjourn to more comfortable surroundings." He told the young man, after all, a little bit of sugar always went a long way to easing any situation. And far better that this rather tasty looking morsel believe he was toothless, at least, for now...
14th November, 1999 - The Burrow, Ottery St Catchpole
"Now Harry dear, why don't you sit right here next to Ginny, hmm?" Molly suggested, beaming at the sight of her youngest and Harry Potter. How well, they looked together! If only he would forget all that nastiness about liking other boys. It was all well and good to have a phase; boys would be boys after all, but really! It was about time that this boy faced up to his responsibilities and did his bit for the future of Wizard kind.
Of course, growing up without a Mother to guide him in life, it was no wonder he was so inept at taking care of himself and knowing his duty. Well, she was here now, and she would make sure he understood what he owed them all and lived up to it.
Goodness knows he couldn't be left on his own to brood and do disgraceful things with other wizards. Her Ginny was just the kind of girl he needed to straighten him out, and they could make beautiful babies together.
Yes, Molly decided, that will do nicely. And, once they're married, we'll have a legitimate reason to spend his money. It wouldn't do at all to accept any now, but once he's family, well! There'll be no need for saving face then; he'd be morally obliged to help us.
The Weasley Matriarch sat back in her chair, happy with her plans and looking forward to the results. Now, she thought to herself, if I could just get rid of that nasty veela that Bill married...
8th June, 1997 – Headmaster's Office, Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry.
"Now Harry, you know as well as I do that there are people out there who still wish you ill." Began the Headmaster, his expression stern.
"There's people here who wish me ill too." Harry muttered, his eyes straying to Severus Snape's ever present sneer. Harry saw it so often he had renamed it in his head as the 'Potter Sneer'. It had just a little extra upturn of the lips and a very slight growl to it that made him wonder if Snape had some angry cats in his ancestry.
"Yes, well, be that as it may, I must insist that you return to your relative's house for the summer. Now, while not entirely happy with the prospect, they have agreed to let you stay, provided you compensate them accordingly. They wish no less than five thousand pounds, which will be deducted from your vault." Dumbledore managed to regain his twinkle by the end of his speech and Harry frankly wanted to heave a brick at him.
"Sir, I will be seventeen in under two months. Voldemort is gone; I fail to see why I must return to the home of people who despise me. More than that, I despise them. I refuse to pay to live somewhere I hate. You will have to find another option." He tried to stay calm, but his temper was rising quickly. How dare this old man dictate his life!
"There is no other option, and as your magical guardian, it is my duty to see you are cared for properly. And since you are under age, I do not need your permission to take the money from your vaults if it is to pay for said care. True, you will be of age on your birthday, but until then, you will do as I say!" Through some effort of will the old goat managed to regain his genial temperament, at least, outwardly. "Do I make myself clear Harry?" He demanded, and Harry looked up at him.
If you were to ask him afterwards, Dumbledore would deny it, but just then, at that very moment when Harry looked at him, the old man was afraid. There was such an expression of loathing and contempt that he never expected to see on the face of one so young.
Perhaps he was making a mistake? Perhaps his ancestors had made a mistake too? But how could they? Their plan had worked, hadn't it? Harry was here and Voldemort was dead, so it had worked, right?
21st May, 2005 – The Best Guest Room, Jareth's Castle.
"Sire, the delegate from the Aboveground is here with the reports." A rather deferential goblin informed his liege, only sparing a brief glance for the being in the bed. His master seemed rather fascinated by the creature; evidence his seeming devotion by staying at his bedside all night while he slept. The goblin waited patiently for the King to answer his message.
"Right, right. Send him in." Jareth muttered absently, not having taken his eyes off the mortal. A mortal whom he was fast believing was no mortal at all. At least not in the same way as the others who plodded along Aboveground, so closed off in their minds and their view of the world.
Maybe this one had been burnt, just like him. It would explain the strange feeling of connection he felt whenever he gazed upon him.
"In here, you Majesty?" The messenger protested mildly. He had been in his liege's service for a long time, and so felt confident raising such a query without fear of rebuke.
"Yes, I do not trust this one enough to let him out of my sight. Send the fellow in." He repeated, and with a bow of deference, the servant was gone.
"Just who are you little morsel?" Jareth pondered aloud.
Unknown Time - Unknown Location
"DELLANDARIO!"
The councillors as one rose and ran out of the room, following the sound of the desperate cry to its source. When they arrived, they found the Queen lying stricken on the hard stone floor, her face ravaged by tears and twisted into a horrifying appearance of pain.
Standing before the Queen, was a man. A mortal. Someone they did not recognise or have any knowledge of. He was holding a blanket wrapped bundle in his arms, and was pointing a stick at the Queen. Breaking free of his shock, the King surged forwards to help his wife and stop this figure from hurting her, but before he could reach the mortal, it disappeared.
Faltering the King turned to his wife, and tried to comfort her, but she fought him, bashing her small fists against his arms.
"Enaberia, please, tell me you are well. What was that thing doing to you?" He pressed, trying to make some sense of this situation. But before she could answer, a gasp drew their attention to the horror that was yet to come.
"Y-Your Majesties, the royal crib...it's...it's empty!"
5th February, 2001 – Ministry Processing Room, Ministry of Magic.
"Sit down!" The Auror who had been dragging Harry along threw him none too gently into a seat which bared a disturbing resemblance to the electric chairs Harry had seen in muggle history books.
He really wasn't looking forward to this, but thanks to the repression potion they had force-fed him that morning, he didn't have access to his magic and so didn't fancy his chances at an escape. He might have been able to take down Voldemort, but he'd had help then, and his magic. Now, he was too weak, and too distraught to be any good to himself.
"Nice one Potter. Where are your friends now? Where is Sirius? Or Remus? Or your parents?" A voice, his own he fancied – though it did sound an awful lot like Draco Malfoy – taunted him in his head as he watched the Aurors prepare something.
Come to think of it, where was Remus? Surely the man didn't believe all that clap-trap about him going dark? Though it seemed the rest of Wizard kind did, despite the distinct lack of evidence.
So he hadn't got married.
Hadn't had any kids.
Didn't become an Auror, or a teacher or even a Quidditch player.
So he spent his time half in the muggle world and half in the Wizarding world.
So he went to a muggle night school and got his a-levels.
So he was in the middle of a Veterinary Medicine Degree.
So he liked boys.
Big deal! So what?
Where in all this was the proof that he was evil? That he should be vilified and ostracised by the rest of the world? Certain people believed there was. Apparently, they believed he should have ended the war sooner. That he just prolonged the world suffering by procrastinating.
They also believed he should sacrifice his own needs and wants for their sakes. Hadn't he already done that? Hadn't his parents and Sirius and Cedric, and every other person who died at the hands of Voldemort and his followers!
Had all their sacrifices been in vain? His parents had died so that he might live. Wasn't that what he was doing? Was there really anything wrong with being a Vet? Or gay? He wasn't hurting anyone. Hadn't he given up enough?
He was jerked out of his thoughts by a feeling of such intense pain that it brought back memories of the times he had been under Voldemort's wand. He cried out and was quickly silenced by one of the Aurors.
"Now, now Potter. Stop behaving like the pathetic little nancy boy we all know you are! This won't hurt much. Well, it won't hurt us much. Can't make any promises for you though."
Harry was chilled by how much this Auror's laughter sounded like the Death Eaters, the night of Riddle's rebirth.
21st May, 2005 – The Best Guest Room, Jareth's Castle.
The person - and Jareth found he couldn't think of him in any other way - the person lying on the bed stirred, and scrunched his face up as if in pain. The Goblin King leapt to his feet, just as the mortal released a sharp cry, so intense it was! A low, keening wail that almost wrenched the fae's heart out of his chest. The cry told of pain, loss, sorrow and a grief so profound that the sometimes cruel man felt like he wanted to weep.
This one's soul was damaged, it seemed. But how? And why? A quick intake of breath that didn't come from him or his guest drew the King's attention to the door, and the goblin delegate from the Aboveground.
Ah, he had forgotten about that in the moment of this mortal's despair. Now he looked over this visiting subject of his with a curious eye, only to find his eyes were on the man in the bed. There was a flash of recognition and then the goblin turned to face his liege. Bowing, he spoke in a voice slightly hoarse with shock.
"Your Majesty. I am Griphook. I come bearing the tithes and missives from my Chief Ragnok." He said and Jareth nodded in acknowledgement. He took the papers which were offered, and banished them to his desk. Right now, he was far more interested in what this Griphook knew about his impromptu guest.
"Greetings Griphook. Welcome to the home of your ancestors. Tell me, what do you know about this…person?" He said, gesturing at the figure in the bed. The loud cries had stopped, but now the man was quietly sobbing, his body curled into a tiny ball, and a pillow clutched tightly to his chest. Despite all of this, it appeared however, that he was still asleep, or not quite conscious at least.
"My liege, that," Griphook gulped, feeling unaccountably nervous. "That is Harry Potter. He is a Goblin Friend. He is, or was, a Wizard, but he was exiled by his people for crimes against Wizard kind." He replied, glancing between his King and the magical world's saviour. Well, for those Aboveground at least.
"Really? 'Crimes against Wizard kind', hmm? Whatever did he do? He looks too small to be threatening." Jareth said with a slight smile, and Harry's first goblin friend also smiled toothily. There was no denying Harry Potter was short stuff.
"He saved them all from the self-styled Dark Lord Voldemort. Destroyed him where none of them could, and prevented their world from being swallowed by the darkness. After that, when he refused to conduct his life the way they wanted him to, they arrested him on some trumped up charges and stole his magic." Clearly the goblin was not impressed with the Wizards' treatment of their saviour.
Neither was Jareth. Inside, he was fuming. How dare they?! The gift of magic was not theirs to take! Not even he had the power to take it without facing dire consequences! He hissed angrily, a feral glint in his eyes.
They would get theirs, as the mortal saying went. They were fools if they believed the Fates would allow this to pass unpunished.
"Your Majesty, forgive my speaking out of turn, however, you should be aware that we've been keeping an eye on him, since we count him as friend. I'm afraid that since they bound his magic, his body has been slowly deteriorating. Our healers estimate that he has maybe two or three years, before it kills him. They have spent weeks looking for a solution, and we were to petition you if nothing was found before the end of this month. Now that I see him here, I must ask." The proud goblin sank to his knees. "Majesty, please, if it is in your power, will you help him? Heal him? He will be loyal to you, you have only to ask. He does not have an unfaithful bone in his body."
Jareth was again taken aback.
This Griphook belonged to a branch of his goblins which were far more clever and cunning than the ones who lived in the city below his castle. They seemed to have reached some higher level of consciousness than the local folk. They were a proud and war-like people. But they were intensely bright and extremely shrewd.
He'd never thought he would see one on his knees before him. They always showed the proper respect of course, but this...
A very long time ago, they had petitioned to be allowed to go Aboveground and seek out new ways of life, and new experiences. He had thought long and hard before granting their request and made sure to keep them and the goblins that remained close-knit.
That was why his person aide, who had shown Griphook in earlier, was more intelligent than most of his people who lived Underground. He was one of the Gringotts goblins who had been recommended to him by Chief Ragnok. All in all, it was a healthy relationship. He let Ragnok and his predecessors make nearly all of the decisions about the goblin nation not in his domain. In fact he believed he himself was a rather close kept secret of theirs, and he doubted any of those wizards had ever even heard his name, much less knew of his existence.
Well, any except this wizard of course.
Jareth glanced at him again. By the Stars! He was getting soft hearted in his old age. He would help this young man, this 'Harry'. He didn't have it in him to refuse one so obviously being torn apart inside. Harry…what an unsuitable name, for such a precious morsel. Maybe when he was feeling better, they could discuss a mutually beneficial relationship. That thought cheered the Goblin King up no end.
"Rise Griphook. I will grant your request. I will do everything in my power to help, though I do not at this time know what that might be. But rest assured, I will try. You may return to your Chief if you wish, however if he releases you, I ask that you return for a time, as your knowledge of this Harry might be useful." Griphook nodded eagerly to his King, grateful for the granting of his plea, and hastily left the room.
Jareth turned back to the bed, and steeling himself before he could change his mind, he placed a hand on Harry's head.
That was the last thing he knew, before darkness.