"It can't be worse than facing a dragon." Harry chuckled, as Sirius helped him down. He looked up at his godfather, wrapping his shoulders up in the linen covering. He knew he must have smelt awful, as if he had taken a bath in a tub full of Dudley's stinky socks, and he felt even more awful as he passed a convoy comprised of witches young and old, noticing half of them had not put on their masks yet and were looking at him, very interested in his scar, their noses scrunching up as he was sure they could smell the bear sweat he had to cover himself in. Thankfully, none of them seemed to comment or turn to their friends and gossip, aware of the fact the ritual entailed this.
"It can't." Sirius agreed, offering an unconvincing half-smile.
He had told Harry the terms of the deal. Harry was to trade nothing of his own. Sirius did not care much for his freedom - he doubted he'd know what to even do with it if he gained it at this point- and that was free to trade. His ability to do magic, his life as a wizard, all of that was on the table. He'd be content living as a Squib, if it meant the defeat of Voldemort and if it would ensure Harry's safety.
"If that thing is not accepting our terms, just end the ritual. Thank you, goodbye, and all that, you ring the bell three times, and they'll stop it. You don't need to agree to anything, we'll find another way." He had no idea what way, but if needs be, for Harry's sake, he'll find it, no matter what.
Harry nodded, before turning to the elderly German wizards, wondering if he were putting them in danger, especially since he found out about how the other village was wiped out after the ritual.
"Why did the other villagers die? Was it because of the ritual?"
"No, son, don't worry your head about that." Matthias replied, bending down at his knees to get closer to Harry. "A wolfman attacked. In these places, it's not unheard of to have a wolfman attack, but unusual to kill so many wizards at once. Vicious one, that one… But not from the ritual, no."
Sirius and Harry looked at one another, wondering if Matthias perhaps meant a werewolf, yet neither had any time to clarify this, as a loud horn announced the start.
"The moon is in the right position." Matthias squinted towards the sun, before taking Sirius by the arm, as the witches fixed their masks on, only now noticing a few of of them wearing taxidermied animal heads on their own, in grotesque expressions.
The two men went outside of the circle, watching the witches raise their arms as the pyre levitated above the covered hole in the ground Harry was in, and slowly, a pleasant smell of burning wood inundated their nostrils.
In that eerie autumn evening, the drumming noise of the male convoy outside of the circle, by now familiar to Sirius, announced the official start of the ritual, and his heart fluttered. the rhythm of the drums resonating in his stomach.
The witches, with their grotesque, enormous masks, with oversized eyes, cheeks, and smiles started gliding around the pyre in a circle, harmonising slowly as they raised their wands around the circle. The masks adorned with dark beards and hair were slowly becoming greyer and greyer as ash clung to them, blown by the gusts of wind, as the witches' harmonies surrounded and accompanied the drums. Flailing their arms wildly around in fluid, elastic movements, the witches wearing animal heads above their own made animal noises that sounded eerily like real animals, making him wonder if they were Animagi as well - he heard sounds of wolves, and eagles, and blackbirds, and cats, and bears, all merging into a cacophony of noises at regular intervals. Each time their voices would falter, one of the witches would fall down to the ground, before raising herself and continuing as if nothing happened.
He knew, however, from Hedda's notes, that the witch who would do that would press her ear to the ground and call for the name of the person under the ground, and if she would get up and resume, that meant she had heard the callback that ensured they were safe.
The drummers continued on ceremoniously, not breaking their rhythm for a single second, and to Sirius's surprise, they continued to do so for hours without a break or falter in their movement.
Harry, however, could not hear any of this. Apart from the regular calls for his name, he could not hear a single thing, not the animal noises the witches made, not their harmonising, not the drums or the bells the wizards wore. As he still had his wand however, he had cast Lumos early on in the ritual, and at least found the silence easier to bear since was not surrounded by darkness.
He wondered if he was supposed to talk to the wooden box he was surrounded by. Or perhaps the pyre above? He knew it was supposed to be lit, however he could neither feel the heat nor could he see any embers when he looked up - if it weren't for the first call to which he answered to, he would have doubted that they even started the ritual. The journal, written from experiences by wizards who went through the ritual, Sirius, or the old German wizards didn't actually give any instructions on who, or what to expect. Sirius called it a 'thing', and the journal referred to it as 'an ancient spirit' who could take any form. The journal warned it was not vindictive in nature, however intentions and clarity was key when discussing terms with it, especially if the caller was requesting any services. But nothing more in regards to what it actually was.
Was it like the Goblet? Would it spit out something like a paper at him, or light up?
"Hello?" he called out, looking up. He wondered if the witches above who would ask for his name were allowed to talk to him. He hadn't introduced himself to any of them, or knew any of their names, however, and wondered if they even spoke English. The two older ones could, however, as accented as their English was, and Harry hoped one of the witches above would answer.
"When am I…? How do I talk to it?"
"You can just speak, it's alright." a feminine, oddly familiar voice answered.
Harry snapped his head back and raised his wand in front of him, only to be faced with two eyes identical to his own.
Lit by his wand, young and bright and as beautiful as she was in the pictures he had of her, with red hair parted down the middle and smiling kindly, as he always imagined she would, crouching and looking interested towards him, was the figure of his mother.
"Mum?"
"Is this your mum, then?" Lily Potter asked, in a voice which Harry could unfortunately tell as belonging to his mother, from the memories spurred by Dementors last year. She looked down at herself, examining her hands and arms and legs, before looking back up at him. "I like the look of your mum."
"Who are you?"
"I don't think they gave me a name. They think I shouldn't have one." The creature taking the appearance and voice of Lily Potter answered, looking up. She looked as if she could see whatever was happening upstairs, and nodded approvingly, before turning back to face Harry and continuing to speak.
"I like mum, so I'll take it. I guess I am a mum, in a way. But not yours.
I can only take the form of those whom those who summon me know." She waited for Harry to blink, and when he opened his eyes again, he saw Rita Skeeter in front of him, and he almost jumped back as the creature spoke in Skeeter's grating voice. "If your mum bothers you, I can be someone else. Just think about them and…" Rita Skeeter waved her arms around herself.
"I'd like my mum, if that's alright."
He was unsure why he said that, and even years after, Harry could not say exactly why he had made that decision. That creature was not Lily Potter, but when it looked at him through his mum's eyes, and spoke in her voice, and smiled with his mum's smile… he felt calm and focused. All he had to do was remember that this was not his mother, and it looked like the creature, thing, or spirit inhabiting her body was not looking to pretend to be her.
With another blink, his mother was back, sitting cross-legged in front of him, wearing the same clothes he remembered from the memories the Dementors brought forward each time they peered into the darkest time in his life.
"We may be here for a while, might as well be comfortable." Lily Potter looked around the small hole boarded up with wooden planks, and clicked her fingers, transporting them to what looked to be an exact match of the empty Gryffindor's common room. "Well? Why have you gone to all this trouble?"
Harry opened his mouth, unsure what to say, or what to ask. He'd read the notes himself, but the notes described a creature that resembled a Metamorphmagus in its ability to change its appearance at will, not a creature that could peer into his mind and take the form of his own mother, or who could change the entirety of his surroundings.
"I-..." Harry cleared his throat, and looked into Lily Potter's eyes, standing straight. He wondered then, if the creature could manifest so many things familiar to him, if he even needed to tell it his entire story, and decided to ask it directly. "If you can take the form of my mum, can you then read my mind?"
"Of course I can. Past, present, and future. But I want to know what you really desire, and what you're really willing to give up. Because you're not willing to give up that fellow's freedom or his magic, and not because he has no freedom, or because you can't exchange something that is not yours, or because you didn't know these things.
You're not willing to give it up out of the love you have for him."
It spoke softly in Lily's voice, and Harry pursed his lips, nodding. He was relieved to know he could not exchange anything of Sirius's, because he truly did not want to.
"If you know what's going to happen in the future, do you know what I'll give up?"
It nodded, and Harry scratched his head, finding himself at a loss. A thought passed by as he thought of what he would give up, and he wondered, looking at the image of his mother, if there was something else from his mum, her self-sacrifice, her desire to defeat Voldemort, that the spirit took alongside her image.
"Were you summoned by Voldemort as well? Or Tom Riddle, I don't know how he-"
"You know the answer to that already, don't you? He told you already." Harry wondered if there was a reason the creature never mentioned any names, catching on that she avoided doing so. But the creature was right. Harry already knew, from the familiarity of the spirit, and how it looked at his scar, that it must have been acquainted with Voldemort, a long, long time ago. "Ask me what you really want to know."
Harry bit his tongue, and finally asked the question bothering him.
"What did he exchange for-... for his power?"
"Humanity." Lily Potter's voice took on a grave tone, and she crossed her arms, appearing unsatisfied with the exchange. "Humanity for a soul's immortality. Live forever and gain all the power that eternal knowledge can harness. Unfortunately, the human soul is interlocked with one's humanity.
Take away humanity, and you are left with a disfigured, empty lump. But alas, it is not for me to philosophise on the terms of a deal, and so I did not. You choose what you give with free will, and you will get what you desire. These are the terms, this is the law of exchange.
Such as this. For your mother's sacrifice, you received your life. For his attempted murder, he tied himself to his own demise." Lily Potter's hand moved on her forehead, drawing a lighting bolt.
"Me."
"You." it agreed, leaning back against the foot of a table.
"How do I do it?"
The creature inhabiting Lily Potter's body pursed her lips - that was Harry's wish. That was his desire. He expected the spirit to ask for the terms of the deal, and was ready to blurt out what he would exchange for it, but the voice of Lily Potter stopped his train of thought, changing the subject.
"I liked the last ones better." Lily Potter's head moved up again as Harry realised his name was uttered by one of the witches, and he rang the bell once. He wondered how much time must have passed from when the creature appeared and they started talking.
"They said it was a werewolf attack."
Lily Potter's eyebrow arched, and she took on a solemn look, which made Harry realise the creature knew, of course, what must have happened. He did not realise that he took on the exact solemn look his mother had, and resolute in his heart, he presented the terms of his exchange.
To his surprise, however, the creature that took on Lily Potter's form, despite him offering something of his, refused his terms, and presented him with a counteroffer, in exchange for how to defeat Voldemort, once and for all.
"For the bother I'll put you through."
The next thing Harry knew was that he was being pulled from the wooden hole, full of ash and dirt and grime, forming a grey sludge as it stuck and clung to every inch of him. There was an array of hands and cloths pulling at his hair and glasses and face as he tried to breath in fresh air, coughing up dust and globules of grime that entered his mouth.
He put his hand forwards, and Sirius grasped his hands tightly, telling him that he was there, asking him if he was alright, if the deal went through.
"We have to-... I have to-...we-" he coughed his words, and felt a glass of water in his hands, which he grabbed and tried to swallow. Sirius pushed at the wizards and witches gathered around, asking them to move and give Harry some space as he drank and cleared his throat.
"-kill Fenrir Greyback."