I make no pretense that the Sindarin used in this chapter (yes, this is where it's going to be used, so sue me…um, wait, let me rephrase that…), is in any way grammatically correct. I found the words I needed and placed them in a structure that sounded aesthetically pleasing, at least to me. I think I used mostly English structure and a little bit of German (eh, write what you know - that's why it's a little bit of German. ;p). On with the story.
Chapter 2: Tough News to Swallow
"Good!" Alfirin said, standing up and offering Harry a hand. Taking it, Harry stood up and followed him to the center of the platform, where a strange contraption had appeared. It had two handles, attached to bars that were spread out so that a person would have to extend his arms fully to the sides to grasp them. The arms connected to a large plate, which would be centered over a person's back if they held it.
"Take the handles, Harry." Alfirin said. "This will be a bit painful, and for that I am sorry. But it will be over fairly quickly, I assure you."
Nodding, Harry stepped up to the contraption and gripped the handles. Alfirin stood in front of him and raised his right hand to Harry's forehead.
"Annacurunír Aewonaur Coll. Beriacurunír a beriamellyn tîn. Carten na-den tass tîn telihollen." As Alfirin's deep voice resonated in Harry's ears, he felt a familiar warmth and sense of well-being spread through his body. It was the same feeling he had whenever he heard phoenix song. The warmth turned into a pleasant tingling sensation, and Harry felt as if he were growing, expanding.
"Pull the handles forward, Harry."
Straining, Harry brought the handles around in front of him, bringing the plate behind him into contact with his back. As it happened, he felt two very different sensations simultaneously - the plate was burning his back through his shirt, like an iron or brand, while a floodgate was opened in his head, swamping his consciousness with a sensory overload.
Eons of knowledge, both magical and otherwise, opened up in Harry's mind while the plate burned into his back. All of the aspects of magic that had eluded him for the last five years suddenly made sense. Hundreds of languages ran through his head, mathematical equations, rules and theorems appeared - all of it as easy to understand as flying on a broomstick.
Harry was assimilating so much, that he almost didn't notice when Alfirin removed his hand and backed away. "Alright Harry, you can stop now."
Groaning from the pain, Harry let his arms go slack as he stumbled away from the brand. He dropped to his knees, falling forward until his forehead rested against the cool marble of the platform. The burning sensation in his back was rapidly receding, as if it were healing at an accelerated rate.
"Would you like to see it?" Alfirin asked.
"Huh?" Harry mumbled, still groggy from what had just happened. He shook his head, trying to clear the cobwebs. Oh yeah, the brand on my back… I need a mirror.
As soon as he thought that, dozens of different ways to produce mirrors - magical and otherwise - surfaced in his mind. He chose one and concentrated. With a small pop! an ornate full-length mirror in a solid silver frame appeared before him. Standing, Harry shed his shirt and turned around, looking over his shoulder at his back.
What he saw made him gasp in shock - in the middle of his back was the picture of a phoenix, wings spread. It looked more like a tattoo instead of a burn mark, which Harry supposed was a good thing. It was when he was admiring how regal the mark looked when he noticed something else: the muscles in his back seemed a bit more defined.
"No, that's not the Mantle at work," Alfirin chuckled at Harry's questioning glance, "You had quite a growth spurt, you were just too busy grieving to notice."
Harry turned around to see that Alfirin was right - he had grown at least four inches. He was now about 5'11", and his musculature had dramatically changed. While he had always been slim and wiry, it was mostly due to lack of food. Any mass he gained at Hogwarts was usually lost over the summer, because the food he got from the Weasleys or Hermione was usually cakes and other not-so-wholesome items. However, after the Order threatened the Dursleys at King's Cross at the beginning of the summer, Harry's "family" had been feeding him regularly.
Apparently, the regular eating had done him a world of good, as had his being constantly active since Sirius' death. He couldn't remember ever being in such great shape. Wait till everybody sees this…
Harry looked down at his shirt and frowned. It was old and frayed to begin with, now the back was burned out of it. In fact, all of his clothes were old hand-me-downs from his cousin, Dudley. Focusing on his clothes, Harry pictured in his mind what he wanted them to look like and transfigured them to match what he imagined.
He was left with black square-toed boots, black slacks and a skin tight black t-shirt, as well as the new long-sleeved white silk shirt he had changed Dudley's old shirt into. This he put on, but left unbuttoned. He left his belt as it was - the black strip of leather was the only article he had had that fit him well.
It wasn't until he had done all of this that something donned on him: he had just done wandless magic. Lots of wandless magic. He raised a questioning eyebrow at Alfirin, who chuckled.
"Wizards use wands to focus their power, but that's because they aren't truly aware of magic. Sure, they can sense it and manipulate it, but they don't know how extensive it is - it's still a mystery to all but a select few wizards."
"I'm guessing that those 'select few' would be Dumbledore and Voldemort." Harry said.
"Yes, them and… what did you call him? Oh, yes, Merlin. Of course, given what you now have access to their awareness is comparable to that of a Muggle." Alfirin replied.
Harry's eyebrows receded into his hair line. This was getting interesting.
"Of course, that doesn't necessarily mean that you will win against Mr. Riddle. Having all of this knowledge and power is one thing, but using it effectively is up to you. I would suggest that you practice when you return, which will be shortly." Alfirin said as he turned away and snapped his fingers, conjuring a doorway of light in the center of the platform.
"Wait a minute," Harry began as Alfirin began to push him towards the doorway, "Is that it? It's just, 'Here are some powers, now go away!'"
"If I'm truly needed, I will return." Alfirin said as he pushed Harry through the doorway. As he was surrounded by this blinding light, he heard Alfirin's voice echoing around him, "Be careful Mr. Potter. I fear that you will be tested soon enough, so get used to your newfound knowledge and use it well. There are some trying times ahead, in more ways than you can imagine."
"Umph!" Harry grunted as he came out of the expanse of light he had just traveled through. He managed to stay on his feet, an accomplishment he had yet to achieve when traveling by Floo powder or Portkey, and brushed off his shoulders.
Crack! Crack! Crackcrackcrack!
Dozens of wizards and witches had just Apparated in, surrounding Harry. He froze for a second until he realized that none of them were wearing black robes or had on masks. These weren't Death Eaters. In fact, they were the next worst thing - Ministry officials.
"Potter, you have been warned repeatedly tha-" one of them began before his jaw sagged to his chest. Littering the ground at Harry's feet were the six Death Eaters he had captured before Alfirin showed up. Looking over the wizard's shoulder, he saw that the large clock on the nearby school building read that not even a minute had passed since he had knocked out Lestrange, which was odd, since he had spent nearly an hour in the star field with Alfirin.
I guess time passes differently there than it does here.
Looking around at all of the awe-struck magicians, Harry noticed a couple of familiar faces - Nymphadora Tonks, the Metamorphmagus, and Kingsley Shacklebolt; both were Aurors and both were members of the Order of the Phoenix. Both kept shooting furtive glances at him, asking silently if he had done this by himself. Grinning mischievously, he nodded and quirked an eyebrow. This was going to be interesting.
While several of the wizards and witches bustled about, trying to get everything under control, Tonks and Shacklebolt made their way over to Harry. Tonks' violent violet hair was up in its usual spikes, which looked oddly appropriate on her heart-shaped face. In contrast, Shacklebolt's bald pate shined dully in the morning sun (several wise cracks fought tooth and nail to escape from Harry's lips, but he tramped them down). The large black Auror stood a head taller than his young companion. The large gold earrings in his lobes, the only adornments he had, caught the light as he stepped forward.
"Wotcher, Harry!" Tonks grinned.
"Potter." Shacklebolt rumbled in his deep voice.
"Wotcher, Tonks! What's up?" Harry smiled.
Raising his eyebrows, Shacklebolt made a point to glance at the six Death Eaters that were being taken off to the Ministry before they were shipped to Azkaban. Hopefully, even though the Dementors had abandoned the wizard prison, Voldemort's followers would stay locked up.
Smiling, Harry simply shrugged a shoulder in a 'no biggie' gesture. Yes, taking down six Death Eaters is no problem, especially when you couldn't even handle one of them a few weeks ago.
"I'll tell you later," Harry muttered to them as the other witches and wizards in attendance began to make their way over to him. Oh boy, this is going to suck…
"Potter, what happened?" said the lead wizard, whom Harry couldn't recognize. The way that Tonks and Shacklebolt acted around him suggested that he was a bit higher up than them in the ministry, possibly an Auror.
Sighing, Harry told them how he had disarmed and taken down the six Dark wizards and witch, conveniently leaving out any mention of Alfirin, the Phoenix Mantle and everything else that had happened after the fight. That was none of their business.
After he was done, he had to struggle to keep from laughing at the various awe-struck looks and gaping mouths of the adults around him. While most of them looked dazzled, he didn't miss the faint twinkling of pride in Tonks' and Shacklebolt's eyes. The struggle to keep from laughing increased exponentially.
After a few minutes, many of the Aurors and Ministry officials rounded up the Death Eaters and left, leaving behind Tonks and Shacklebolt to escort Harry back to the Dursley's. During the walk back, they both bombarded him with questions, mostly about how he was coping and if he had had any more dreams or visions about Voldemort.
"No, not really," Harry said, "I haven't had any more visions of people getting tortured or dying. Most of my dreams have been about Sirius…"
Both of the Aurors winced at this and looked at each other before placing comforting hands on his shoulders. "It wasn't your fault, Harry. You were trying to save his life." Tonks said. "Plus, from what I heard, that wanker Snape didn't really help all that much with your Occlumancy lessons."
Harry snorted at that, glad to know that at least he wasn't the only one who didn't like Snape. From the way Shacklebolt was shaking his head and chuckling, it appeared that his opinion of the potions master was in line with the general consensus.
"By the way, we have some messages from everyone at Headquarters," the tall Auror rumbled, slipping several envelopes from his robes and handing them to Harry. Indeed, they were from his friends and other Order members. Ron, Hermione, Ginny, Mr. and Mrs. Weasley and Moony. However, Harry found that his eyes could barely leave the envelope with Hermione's elegant script.
It had not escaped his notice, the feelings that had been bubbling up whenever he thought of his bushy-haired friend. The incredible guilt of losing his temper with her so many times last year, the intense fear when Dolohov hit her with that strange curse, the mixture of relief and regret seeing her awake in the Hospital wing, yet in great pain.
Smiling, he nodded his thanks to the Aurors for bringing him the letters. Before he knew it, they were outside number four, his 'home', and their visit was coming to an end. He sighed as he reached for the door handle, turning to bid farewell to the only people who would appreciate his presence for some time to come.
"Harry, Dumbledore wanted us to tell you that you won't have to stay here to much longer. Something about another three days would be sufficient, whatever that means." Tonks said quickly.
Three more days for the charm that his mother placed on him, by sacrificing her life to save his, to protect him from Voldemort. Except for the fact that he and Voldemort now shared blood, which means that they both share Lily Potter's protection, at least from each other. The charm also made a safe haven of any residence that housed her blood - which meant Petunia Dursley's house. As long as he could call Number four, Privet Drive his home, he could not be attacked by Voldemort there.
This didn't mean that he enjoyed staying there, with three people who would gladly dance on his grave, singing Christmas carols and getting pissed. However, if he was to leave the Dursley's in three days time, the number of possible destinations was limited to either the Burrow or Order Headquarters. Surely, they wouldn't make him go back to Sirius' house…
"So who's taking me to the Burrow?" Harry asked hopefully.
Tonks and Shacklebolt shared a knowing glance, as if they knew that Harry would react this way. That could only mean one thing, something that Harry inwardly groaned about: he was going to Number twelve, Grimmauld Place. Order Headquarters.
As much as he had progressed in his grieving for Sirius, Harry knew that he wasn't ready to go back to Sirius' old house. Being in the house where his godfather grew up, where his last good memories of Sirius took place, would be a lot to handle. That's not even taking into account what would happen if he ran into Kreacher. The treacherous house elf had been largely responsible for sending Harry off to the Department of Mysteries, taking orders from Narcissa Malfoy on behalf of Voldemort.
Harry took a deep breath and blew it out, trying to calm his anxiety. Sirius is dead and gone, there's nothing you can do about it. He's not coming back, and stressing out over going to his house won't solve anything.
He looked at the worrying faces of Tonks and Shacklebolt and gave a pained smile, "I'll be okay. How are you two holding up?"
Though surprised, they both replied with an, "Okay." All too soon, they turned to leave, wishing Harry well before Disapparating. Harry sighed and entered the house, taking care not to make any noise as he went upstairs to his room. Upon entering his room, he collapsed into the chair in front of his desk and opened up Remus' letter first.
Dear Harry,
How are you holding up? Listen, I know that it's not easy with Sirius gone, but you need to know that it's not your fault that he fell through the veil - that blame lies with Bellatrix Lestrange. I'll try to get into contact with you soon so that we can have an actual conversation about this.
I also know that you'll be here at Headquarters soon, and I can hardly wait for you to get here. You'll be happy to know that Kreacher is gone, as well as the portrait of Sirius' mother. I do believe that Molly has made this place a bit more hospitable. All of your friends are here, at least the Weasleys and Hermione are. When you get here there are some matters concerning Sirius' estate that we need to go over.
I know that it's hard Harry, but you should know that we all care about you, not because you're the Boy-That-Lived, but because you're Harry Potter, our friend.
Moony
Harry smiled; he couldn't wait until he got to see Remus again. Everyone was staying at Grimmauld Place. Including Hermione. Harry's smile grew larger as he thought about seeing Hermione again. She had been so patient with him last year, always standing by his side. He still remembered how she'd saved him from Umbridge when he was caught in her office.
With these thoughts running through his mind, he picked up her letter and hurriedly opened it. He couldn't wait to hear what she had to say.
Dear Harry,
I do hope that you aren't being too hard on yourself. Sirius' death was not your fault. In any case, I know that you are feeling horrible right now, but please just try to wait another few days, and then you can come to Headquarters. When you finally get away from those dreadful relatives of yours, we'll be here for you.
I don't know about you, but I can hardly wait for our O.W.L. results to come in! I do hope that I passed all of my subjects. Do you know when they'll be in?
I also have wonderful news - Ron asked me to be his girlfriend! I could hardly believe it, and I said yes! He finally got over his problems with Viktor and asked me out. He was so adorable! You're okay with this, aren't you?
Please be careful, Voldemort is still after you, you know. And don't take any stupid risks before you get here! Just be safe.
Love,
Hermione
Hermione's letter fell to the floor as Harry sagged forward in his chair. Hermione and Ron together. How could I have missed this?
Sure, he had noticed their fights over the years, but he had never really connected those fights with attraction. To be sure, he knew that Ron had a soft spot for Hermione, but Harry was flabbergasted to know that she returned that affection. Just how blind am I?
Realization that his best friends were now a couple sank in slowly as Harry got up only to fall right into bed, groaning unintelligibly. Once he got to Order Headquarters, he would have to see Ron and Hermione, the girl that held his heart, behave like a couple. Ron would be the one that got to hold her hand, open doors for her, hear her laughter.
What if I have to see them kissing? Do I really want to see Ron and Hermione engrossed in a snog-fest?
At this mental image, Harry groaned again. This was going to be a long couple of days.