They came together, all the leaders, for their threads were tied together in the great tapestry of life. –Sayern nar-Hazozh, (The History of the Treaty), translated from Gobblededook circa 1952
"Oh, good." Harry slumped with relief. "You're not dead."
"Are you all right?" Saysa's words, while a great deal more practical than Harry's, were no less filled with concern.
"We're fine," they chorused.
Neville pushed himself to his feet. "Did you guys really show up in my vision, or was I just hallucinating?"
"Technically, the entire vision was a hallucination," Blaise pointed out. "But yeah, you were in my head. Remember, I said that I didn't really want you as my Animagus form?"
"Wait," said Harry, astonished, "you guys shared your visions?"
"I was in the Arctic," Daphne reminisced. "Blaise, you were in some kind of jungle-"
"South or Central America, I think," he agreed.
"-Hermione was in a forest-" The Ravenclaw nodded "-and Neville was in the mountains."
"And we couldn't get into each other's… um… places," Neville added. "And Daphne was really, really cold, so we agreed to find our forms before she froze to death."
"And now," Hermione concluded, "we seem to have all awakened at the same time."
"You did," Harry confirmed. "And you're right. You did all wake up at the exact same moment. But seriously, you experienced a shared vision?" He couldn't get over that. "That's not normal, mates."
"We established that," Daphne assured him dryly.
"Their auras have unmingled," Saysa observed.
"What?" asked Blaise. "What d'you mean, 'our auras have unmingled'?"
"I meant exactly what I said," Saysa answered. "When you entered your trances, I looked at you with the serpent sight. Your not-colors were bleeding into each other. Now, though, they are separate again, doubtless because you have returned."
"That's creepy," Blaise announced.
"It's fascinating," Hermione disagreed. "Especially since it's undoubtedly why we shared our experiences. Well, at least at first."
"It's still creepy," the Smoking Mirror grumbled, but he said it too quietly for Hermione to hear.
Neville decided (quite wisely) to change the subject. "I'm a sheep," he announced. "What're you all?"
Hermione blushed. "An owl of some kind. I don't know the exact species, but it was rather small, didn't have ears, and its plumage was brown and white. I need to research the exact type, of course, but I'll know by the time school starts up again."
Blaise raised a brow. "Aren't you afraid of heights? Why're you a bird if you're afraid of heights?"
She grimaced. Apparently, the brightest witch of her age hadn't thought of that.
Harry patted her shoulder. "Don't worry," he advised. "Flying's different when you're a bird. It's more instinctive. Animagi might not have a complete animal spirit like the werewolves do, but it doesn't take long to learn how to use our new forms. And if you need help flying, I'll teach you." He paused, considered. "Did anyone else get a bird form? Because I'll teach you too."
The others shook their heads.
"Okay, then. We've got a sheep and an owl. What're you two?"
"Jaguar," Blaise announced. He grinned. "A jaguar with my sense of humor."
"Merlin help us," Daphne muttered.
All eyes focused on her. The other five waited expectantly. "I am an arctic fox," she told them.
"It suits you," Blaise decided.
"All our forms suit us," Neville agreed.
"Not yours," Hermione disagreed. "I honestly can't- oh, I understand now!" She beamed. "You're a young ram, Neville."
"Er… isn't that just another word for a male sheep?"
"Well, yes," she admitted, "physiologically speaking, but rams have completely a different symbolic meaning than sheep."
"So it's a sheep, but it isn't a sheep?" Neville seemed skeptical.
"Exactly," Hermione confirmed. "Sheep represent foolishness, gullibility, weakness- or, in the Christian tradition, a flock in desperate need of a shepherd. Rams are symbols of strength and virility and protection. They're powerful animals, Neville- practically every god worth his salt in the ancient Mediterranean world was associated with one."
The Gryffindor still looked rather dubious, but he was willing to accept Hermione's claims. Or, barring that, he didn't want to bother arguing.
"Okay," said Harry, who had been watching the proceedings with some amusement, "now that we've established that Neville is a ram instead of a sheep- don't look at me like that, you know you are- could someone please explain the shared vision thing to me?"
That, of course, meant that the ever-enthusiastic Hermione got to explain. The others had long ago learned how futile it was to say something when she wanted to speak.
Harry listened to her description with steadily widening eyes. "And this is what the rest of you remember, right?" he asked, wanting to confirm it. The others nodded. "Merlin's beard, that's bizarre. I wonder, will there be any other effects?"
His friends hadn't thought that far ahead.
"If there are," Blaise said slowly, clearly thinking aloud, "and I'm not saying that there will be, but if there are, then it will probably have something to do with the forms themselves or with dreams, because the vision we experience was pretty similar to a dream. Especially one of my prophetic Dreams."
"Are you saying that we have more than one form?" Neville gasped incredulously.
"I don't think so," Blaise admitted, "but then again, I didn't think we'd end up in the same vision, either."
Harry was nodding. "It's common knowledge that two people, much less a group of four, can't experience the same Animagus quest. You guys have obviously broken with common knowledge once, so why not again? Multiple Animagus forms are supposed to be impossible, but…." He shrugged eloquently. "We've done lots of impossible things. The word doesn't really seem to apply to us."
How right he was, a Horcrux-child with the memories of a man. Beside him stood the Lady of the Chamber, a basilisk in almost-human form, who had acquired her second body through a combination of Fae magic and the Animagus Potion. The room's other residents included the first known weather witch in two hundred years, a Seer powerful enough to experience visions of the past as well as of the future, the Herbology prodigy who had cracked the Chalice of the Moon's code, and a genius who had created the world's first anti-dementor amulets.
"Perhaps not," Saysa agreed.
"Or perhaps not," Daphne mused. "You did say that our auras had un-mingled, that we were unconnected once again."
Saysa acceded her point.
Hermione considered. "But we only absorbed our own animals," she pointed out. "I think that if there are any lasting effects- and like you said, Blaise, that isn't guaranteed- that they will somehow involve dreams."
"There's only one way to find out, though," he sighed. "We just have to wait and see."
By this time, summer was almost over. The dog days, Sirius called them, grinning widely.
Harry and Blaise went to Diagon Alley together to get their school supplies. They spent an enjoyable afternoon eating ice cream and speculating about the new Defense and Potions professors. Since both Lockhart and Snape had been horribly mauled by acromantulas that May, neither could (or, truth be told, wanted to) teach. In Snape's case, it was because he was physically incapable- several upper-level potions required both hands to brew correctly. In Lockhart's, it was out of humiliation. He had screamed like a little girl when the spiders had attacked, and rumor had it that his once-pretty face was covered in scars.
In Harry's opinion, it served the fraud right.
"What about the VV?" he asked as they settled down for supper at one of the cafes. "We've got how many articles for that?"
"I dunno," Blaise responded. "That's probably Hermione's area of expertise- she's the one who's spoken most with Luna, so she knows the media biz best."
Harry rolled his eyes. "Everything is Hermione's area of expertise. But you're right; I should be talking to her instead. Unless you have any brilliant ideas that I just have to listen to?"
"Yeah. Start publishing before Christmas." He leaned back in his chair, tapped a finger to his chin. "I'd send out the first copies… um… late September, early October. That's when everyone's settled into his school-year routine but before life gets hectic. That way, they'll have lots of spare time to think about the articles."
"Good plan. You ever had the shepherd's pie here?"
"Once. Trust me, Harry, unless Remus has been starving you for the past three months, you won't be able to finish it."
"But is it good? If it is, I'll get a take-out box."
"Take-out box?"
Who would have thought that the wizarding world didn't have doggie bags? Harry spent the rest of their meal explaining the Muggle concept.
After returning to the CC, Remus announced that he and his godson were going to visit Sirius and Dudley, who apparently had some news for them. "Did they say anything about this to you?" the werewolf asked.
Harry shook his head. "Nope. I had no idea they had news. Wonder what it's about?"
"We'll find out soon enough. Are we taking your Portkey or the communal one?"
"Yours," his godson replied.
Remus smiled. "That's the paranoia speaking again, isn't it?"
Harry grinned sheepishly. "Is it really that obvious?"
"Yes."
He wagged a finger. "But you're not paranoid when they're really after you."
"Sirius isn't 'really after you,' Harry."
"Thank you, Moony, for ruining my superb comeback."
"You're welcome, Pinions."
Harry had expected that Sirius would be the one to deliver the news. He was a more active and, quite frankly, interesting person than Dudley was. Sure, his cousin had been getting a lot better these past few months- living on an island without electricity tended to make one more creative, if nothing else- but the Parselmouth didn't think that the Muggle had progressed enough to come up with news of his own.
For once in his life, he was glad to be proved wrong.
Dudley beamed at his guests, wizards both, one of whom was his formerly despised cousin. "I'm going back to school!" he announced.
Harry's jaw nearly dropped off his hinges. He couldn't have been more surprised if Dudley had sprouted wings and flown off into the sunset.
Dudley was going to school again? And not just voluntarily, it seemed- he sounded happy about the prospect. Dudley Dursley was happy about going to school.
Sweet Merlin, the world must be ending. There was really no other explanation.
The Muggle grinned. It had been years since he'd seen Harry so stunned. The younger boy was always so cool and collected, a bit like Pollux, really. Now he was gawking like a bird that had flown into a window.
"You're- what?" The young wizard squeaked. He cleared his throat, repeated, "Sorry? Did you really just say you were going back to school?"
Dudley nodded. "Yeah. Education's good for you, you know."
Harry's mouth worked soundlessly. Who was this and what had he done with his cousin?
"Congratulations," said Remus. The werewolf knew of Dudley's academic reputation (or rather, his lack thereof), but knowing something and witnessing it were two very different things. He had much less trouble believing that the Muggle wanted to return to school. "But- er- don't you think that's a bit dangerous?"
The smile faded from Dudley's face. "What d'you mean, dangerous?"
"Well," the werewolf replied, wondering how to phrase this, "the official story in the Muggle world is that you were kidnapped by a highly dangerous criminal. What if someone recognizes you?"
"Oh, that." Sirius waved negligently. "We figured that out months ago. Behold!" He waved his wand, and Dudley's blond hair darkened to deep brown. The Muggle rummaged through his pockets, extracted a pair of glasses and perched them on his nose.
Sirius beamed. "We figure that between the disguise, the weight loss, the growth, and the time difference- I supposedly kidnapped him months ago, so most people will have forgotten about him by now- no one will know."
Harry shut his mouth. He didn't want to catch any flies, after all. "What about transpo- oh, that's why you got him a broomstick for his birthday!"
Sirius nodded smugly. "Like I said, we've been planning this."
The Parselmouth blinked several times. His rational mind was trying (and mostly failing) to come to terms with what he was seeing. Had he gone mad, or was Dudley Dursley really going to magically disguise himself and fly a broomstick just so he could attend secondary school?
His earlier assessment was right. The end simply must be nigh.
"The alternative was riding dragon back," the Muggle pointed out. "And I really don't think that they'd let me."
They spent the next hour or so discussing Dudley's plans. As Sirius boasted, he and his ward really had thought out their strategy. They had scouted out the nearest town (in disguise, of course), searching for a place for Dudley to land and hide his broom. Once they'd found the perfect spot, Sirius had enchanted it so that only Dudley could deposit and take things out of it.
After finding a storage place, the two had busied themselves with being seen around the town. It was small enough that the residents noticed the strangers right away. Sirius (going under the pseudonym Ryan Grey), told the locals that he was a fisherman who had recently moved to one of the outlying islands, which he was planning to develop. They bought his story hook, line, and sinker.
"Incredible," said Harry faintly. "How did you arrange all this without anyone noticing?"
Sirius shrugged. "Well, we're on the middle of an almost abandoned island. The dragons don't really care. Saysa's and the hat have been busy playing therapist to each other, and Tyr's been conspiring with his werewolf buddies."
"That makes sense, I suppose," the boy admitted. "Still, Dudley, I'm surprised you even wanted to go back to school."
The Muggle glanced away. "Well," he mumbled, embarrassed, "education is important, but also…. It'd be nice to see some people my own age again, you know? You're the only kid I've had contact with all summer, and with you off at school…." He trailed off, blushing furiously.
This only served to confirm Harry's suspicion that the end was nigh. Was Dudley implying that he would actually miss him when he went back to Hogwarts? No, not possible.
But it was, and he was.
The Parselmouth shook his head in amazement. "Remus, do we have a panic room? Because if we don't, we need to get one, then we need to nuke-proof it and stock up on food and water and zombie-fighting equipment, because I'm not sure what form this apocalypse will take. All I know is that it's coming, and soon."
Dudley blinked at him. "Well, yeah. Isn't that what the Lightning Speaker showing up means?"
Harry choked.
Remus, fighting back laughter, couldn't resist discomfiting his godson more. "Does Pollux know you think he's a harbinger of worldwide doom?" he asked Dudley.
"Doesn't everyone think so?" the Muggle replied, honestly surprised. "Because that's what I thought all those prophecies were about- how he's gonna destroy the world."
No wonder Dudley doesn't like me, Harry thought. "No, that's what happens if he fails."
"Oh." Dudley looked embarrassed. "Right, then."
The two adults wisely decided to change the subject back to the upcoming school year. "So, Harry, are you trying out for Quidditch?" Sirius queried.
The younger wizard shook his head. "I'll be busy enough, what with Better than Binns and avoiding the apocalypse and all." Not to mention saving the world and/or causing aforementioned apocalypse.
"You sure?" Sirius wheedled. "Because you're an amazing flyer, even better than James. And after-" But here he cut himself off.
Harry sighed. "And after my row with Mark last year, it would be therapeutic to play against him."
"Well…." A faint blush glazed Sirius's cheeks. "Well, yeah."
At the very end of the school year, Harry had snapped. He'd known about Mark's attack on Saysa- an attack which had very nearly ended in her death- for quite some time and had managed to hold back his anger, but at the Leaving Feast, his fool brother had gone up and boasted about almost skewering the poor basilisk.
Harry had managed to restrain himself until the very end of the feast. Then he'd stalked after Mark with all the subtlety (though considerably more restraint) of a hurricane.
Mark, of course, hadn't understood why Harry was so mad. He didn't know about his brother's association with Saysa, and he honestly believed that he'd been doing the school (and world at large, for that matter) a huge favor by bravely frightening the monster off. Harry could hardly explain his rationale without giving away his other identity, so he was forced to say that Mark could have been killed.
The ersatz Boy-Who-Lived had not taken that well. He'd called Harry an overprotective, glory-obsessed prat who was meddling in something that was none of his business.
Fortunately, Professor Flitwick had stopped them before things got more serious, but the brothers hadn't written to each other all summer.
"I can't do that because I don't know what to do about Mark," Harry confessed in a rare show of vulnerability. "I admit that part of me wants to antagonize him more, because his attack on Saysa- she's my friend, and I have the awful feeling that he only attacked her for his own glory. But at the same time, he did seem pretty concerned about the school, and he didn't know, and Dumbledore was manipulating him…." He grimaced. Then, in a carefully light voice, "But enough about me and Mark. Tell me another story about Dad's Quidditch career."
Sirius glanced at Remus as though asking for permission. Perhaps he was- Harry wasn't his godson. The werewolf shrugged helplessly.
"All right, then," Padfoot acquiesced. "Lemme think…." His face split into a grin. "Have I told you about his game against Ravenclaw in our sixth year?"
"No."
"You haven't?" exclaimed Remus, stunned. "Sirius, that was his crowning moment! How could you not have told him?"
"I honestly don't know."
"So what happened?" Harry asked. For once, the usually stoic thirteen-year-old was acting his age.
Sirius laughed. "Oh, Merlin, what didn't happen? For starters, an augury somehow ended up on the Quidditch pitch…."
The remainder of the summer passed in much the same way. Harry spent his mornings training as both himself and Pollux. He spent his afternoons on the Isle, conspiring with his friends and trying to set up a meeting between the races. Ragnok had finally gotten the message, so he at least was being cooperative, but it was difficult to find a time when all the leaders would be available. They had many responsibilities, and Harry couldn't just ask them to abandon their duties to meet with him.
Not that he didn't want to, of course.
Finally, September first rolled around again.
"This isn't right," Harry grumbled. "Remus should be allowed to take his godson to the station- er, no offense, Tonks."
His Auror-trainee escort nodded. "None taken, Harry. I know what you mean. It's wrong that Moony can't bring you here himself."
The boy heaved a sigh.
Tonks flinched. She didn't like seeing her young friend so depressed. "Hey, you'll see him again soon. And you know he's with you in spirit, or whatever the cliché comfort phrase is."
As she'd intended, her flippant remarks drew a laugh from the young wizard. "You're right, of course," he agreed. "And even better, I have the lovely Miss Hedwig here." The owl hooted in agreement. "I suspect, m'dear, that you'll be getting a lot of exercise this year."
Birds, having no lips, were incapable of grinning. Nevertheless, Hedwig somehow managed to do so anyways.
"Harry!" called Hermione, waving frantically. In her other hand she clutched her new cat, an orange beast called Crookshanks. The feline didn't look very happy at being held like that, but he was willing to put up with it for Hermione's sake. He too was a magical creature, a legacy from his kneazle father, and he could sense that his witch was touched by destiny.
"Harry!" the Ravenclaw cried again, just in case he hadn't heard her. "Come on!"
The Parselmouth grinned. "Looks like I'm needed. Thanks again for bringing me, Tonks."
"It was my pleasure, Harry."
The Slytherin waved at his Ravenclaw friend. She grinned, the smile spreading from ear to ear, as he walked towards her. Their other friends leaned out of the window- they had already claimed a compartment to themselves.
A few minutes later, the Hogwarts Express and those it carried within were gone.
Fear the apocaplypse, Dudley. Fear it!
Thanks to all of you who guessed about the riddle. It was fun seeing how horribly wrong you all are. : )
-Antares