Author's Note: OK, OK, so this isn't the exact last chapter, but it's the next-to-last!! I swear! This is the longest chapter to date in this story, but I had a great deal of ground to cover, as you will all see. Enjoy!
More Than Human
Chapter Eight - Transmutation & Pellucidity
…When logic and proportion
Have fallen sloppy dead
And the White Knight is talking backwards
And the Red Queen's off with her head
Remember what the dormouse said:
"Feed your head
Feed your head"…
Jefferson Airplane, "White Rabbit"
The darkness echoed with random voices, rising and ebbing. Harry wondered if he was at the bottom of a deep well.
"… have to do something…" Ron's voice was strident.
With a supreme effort, Harry forced his heavy eyelids open. The gleaming wand tips were blurred rainbows. He felt like someone was kneeling on his chest; it was so hard to draw breath.
Hermione leaned close and cradled his head. "Harry! Stay awake…please, you must!" But Harry could not keep his eyes open despite her pleas and gentle shaking.
A brilliant light illuminated the grove suddenly. Even Harry could see it despite his closed eyelids. Several cries of relief were heard after the flash receded.
"Headmaster…help him! The Acromantula…"
The sounds faded away and the darkness was soothing. For a time, Harry felt himself drift weightless in it. But, then color began to bleed into the darkness, followed by growing, diffuse light.
Harry was within the jungle-visionscape once more. The lush green plants grew thick and luxurious; their leaves broke the bright sunlight into dappled patches across the lower grasses underfoot. The soft chuckle of flowing water drew Harry along the faint trail to find the low waterfall cataract grotto and peaceful glade he remembered from his earlier vision quests.
The sounds of birds and small creatures drifted from the forest as well. Harry looked about for his spirit-jaguar, but there was no sign of it within the glade.
"Where are you?" Harry called frantically.
There was no reply, and Harry had not expected one, truly.
Flopping down next to the picturesque stream, he pulled his knees to his chest and wrapped his arms around them before lowering his head to rest upon them. If he could not locate his animal form soon, Harry knew he was very likely doomed. The text had been very clear in that regard.
The final vision quest was upon him now. There was no more time to wait.
He could feel the time ticking away in his head and his desperation grew. A strangely cold breeze brushed across him, ruffling his hair and causing a prickle of gooseflesh to rise. He lifted his gaze to scan the glade once more.
In his preoccupation, Harry could have missed the flash of light from the stream bed, but his Seeker skills stood him in good stead once more and helped him catch the faint glimmer.
Again, as before, he discovered a round mirror approximately the size of his hand in diameter under the rushing water, several feet downstream from the small waterfall. Harry leaned down to examine the object more closely, when suddenly the background noise fell silent.
Harry froze for a long moment and then slowly raised his eyes from the mirror to find the spirit-jaguar crouched on the bank directly across from him. The old fear skittered along his skin as the big cat's eyes stared back, unblinking.
"Oh, honestly, Harry! You know the cat is you already!" The statement chased the fear away and Harry smiled wryly, for he heard the thought spoken in Hermione's voice.
The cat remained still on the other bank as Harry pushed himself upright and faced this facet of his own psyche without any further trepidation.
[Do you know who I am?]
"Yes. You are me," he answered the jaguar-spirit.
[But who are you?]
"What? I'm Harry Potter, of course."
[And who is Harry Potter?]
"Huh? Who is Harry Potter?" Harry's brow furrowed in confusion as he repeated the spirit-jaguar's query. What is this all about? he wondered.
"I'm a wizard," Harry decided. "And you are me, I suppose, er…at least a part of me. Now come to me!"
[I cannot. It lies between us.]
"It? I don't understand what you mean," he stated.
[It lies between us. It has lain there for a very long time.]
"Do you mean the stream?" Harry queried.
The cat watched him intently, but said nothing more. Frustrated, Harry plunged into the cold water to reach the animal. Midway across the stream, Harry suddenly felt a great resistance, like hitting an invisible wall of thick molasses. He continued to fight to reach the cat who watched his struggles impassively.
The resistance intensified until Harry could barely make any headway against the strange barrier. The cold water of the stream swirled around his ankles and calves and Harry could feel the warmth of his body seeping away into the flowing water.
"What is happening?" Harry gasped. The spirit jaguar did not respond, though its eyes glittered for a moment.
Harry continued to struggle forward, inching closer by sheer force of will to the far bank. The cat did not move. With a final great effort, he reached out and touched the animal's fur.
Suddenly, the fur beneath his fingers began to darken in waves from where his hand touched. The tawny tones shaded into dark brown mottled with darker hues that were barely visible. Amazed, Harry looked up into the cat's eyes and watched the bright amber shade into peridot.
With a sigh, the cat rose and stalked forward into the stream. Once it completely entered the water, a bright flare blinded Harry for a few moments. The chill of the water became a dim memory as he felt the cat writhing and clawing within him. Agony shot through his frame, and in the midst of it, he could feel and hear his bones and sinews snapping and cracking as the cat moved within him.
Then the pain vanished as quickly as it had come. The cat had slipped into a void that Harry had not known existed within until the animal had filled it. A wave of knowledge swept through him at that moment.
He and his spirit animal were one. The Animagus change was now his to command.
Harry turned around and waded back across the stream. As he passed the mirror, a flickering light on his left side caught his eye. Harry could now see the light was shining through the translucent curtain of the small waterfall. The mirror in the stream bed must have been reflecting it earlier.
What now? he wondered. Looking around, the glade seemed quiet and serene. The water was no longer ice cold, but now was mild and comfortable.
He bent down to pick up the mirror, but found it gone. Out of the corner of his eye, Harry could see the light behind the water flare higher, and take on a golden hue. It also began to wax and wane in a way that Harry found almost hypnotic. Stumbling up the rocky riverbed, he soon reached the swift-moving cataract.
When Harry neared the waterfall, he saw that the stream emanated strongly from a fissure at the top of the tall stone outcrop. As he examined it, he was struck by the realization of its size and breadth. In all of his previous visions, this object had seemed smaller and blended into the background.
He put out his hand and separated the falling sheet of water, watching with some fascination as the water sparkled and splashed with unusual brilliance. Cupping a handful to his mouth, he found it to be clean and fresh.
The actual waterfall was only a thin layer of water moving fast. Behind it lay a small cavern. The light he had glimpsed shone from a shallow basin carved into the rocky floor.
Harry passed through the sheet of water and entered, shaking the water from his hair as he moved forward to examine the basin. It appeared to be all of one piece, smooth and even, the edge was only broken by a series of runes carved along the outer lip. Within the bowl lay scintillating fluid, silvery like that that would be found within a pensieve, but broken through with large flashes of light like looking into a diamond.
In the first glance around the dim niche, Harry could find nothing else unusual about this cavern. The moist limestone walls and scattered stalactites covered with patchy bits of lichen and moss were not peculiar to his eyes. But upon closer inspection, he found that the water on the surface of walls and floors was moving away from the basin. The water seemed to be welling up around the stone bowl and literally running up the walls to the top of the outcrop.
He crept closer, leaning slightly forward to look down into the basin. When he was only a step away from the object, Harry began to hear low voices. They faded in and out, like a badly tuned radio.
"No! ...mustn't let... who else could we trust..." A woman's voice pleaded, with frequent gaps of silence.
"... be reasonable... sure? But what... will work?" A man's voice replied in counterpoint.
Harry's eyes widened, but he could not deny recognition of those two voices. He remembered them well, even though the only time he could recall hearing them had been during the fugue state from a Dementor's attack. They were the voices of his dead parents.
The voices continued to whisper around him, defying his attempts to hear them clearly. Harry took the final hesitant step forward before a sharp feeling of trepidation swept over him and glued his feet to the floor.
As he stood frozen there, Harry began to wonder why he was afraid. Nothing in the cavern appeared to be threatening, so why this sudden terror? After all, he faced down trolls, Dementors, Death Eaters, even Voldemort himself; so why now, why here, was he overwhelmed by a trepidation that he could see no cause for?
A new sound softly entered the grotto. It washed over Harry and calmed the racing of his heart. The sweet tones were silvery and pure and oh so familiar. After a moment, Harry realized the Phoenix song was actually coming from the outside and not from within his mind. He could also hear the voices of his friends and teachers, but they were distant and talking over each other so much that he could not understand what they were saying.
The Phoenix song increased and began to resonate inside the cavern, causing Harry to shake his head against the odd throbbing sensation inside his ears.
Looking back down into the basin, he could see images coalescing within the swirling liquid.
Harry felt the spirit-jaguar shiver inside him.
[It is from Outside.]
But what is IT? He questioned silently, but the animal went silent once more. Staring into the basin, he was once more struck by the similarity this object had to a pensieve, and acting on a hunch, Harry knelt down and touched the scintillating medium.
When the whirling sensation passed, Harry found himself sitting on the floor of a comfortable lounge room with a crackling fire behind him. A large squashy couch lay directly in front of him, with a small low table between. The table was covered with blocks and stuffed animals, some of which were clearly magical as they blinked, moved or vocalized softly.
Light streamed into the room from the large windows on the right side wall. Stained glass transom panels above the clear panes were magical as well, depicting all sorts of medieval things like knights, damsels and magical creatures in active display. The outside scenery showed a picturesque view of mountains and trees in full summer leaf.
Looking around at the rest of the furnishings, Harry jumped back reflexively when he discovered the dark-haired toddler sitting just beside him on his left. The child sat quietly on the soft carpet before the hearth, head bent down as he played with several stuffed animals and picture books. Harry heard voices coming from beyond the room, indistinct but in heated discussion.
The infant looked up and Harry knew his identity at that moment.
The toddler was him.
The voices grew louder, and it was apparent that the argument was moving in the direction of the lounge. His younger self frowned and pouted a bit as he listened to the voices.
Lily Potter swept into the room, her cheeks flushed as she muttered under her breath, stalking to the sofa and flopping down into it. His younger self smiled brightly at his mother, which had the instant effect of softening Lily's disgruntled expression.
James Potter entered a few seconds later, his expression one of exasperation. Whatever had been the issue between them, it had clearly not been resolved.
James sat on a flanking armchair to the left of the sofa. His appearance caused the toddler to squeal happily and wave at his father. Like Lily, James' mood seemed to be mollified as he smiled lovingly down at Harry-the-toddler.
A silence fell then, broken only by child's sounds and chirped nonsense words as he went back to playing with his toys, content with his parents' presence.
Harry stood up slowly and tried to figure out what might be the problem, but he could not discern it from their body language. Anger flared for a moment in Harry's chest. The knowledge of how to read his own parents had been denied him. Who were these people he had always loved but could not remember?
"I've researched this, James," she spoke in low tones, breaking the hush. "I'm confident this spell will protect Harry."
"You're asking of great deal of me, Lils; of both of us, really," he replied, leaping to his feet. "Sacrifice a portion of our magical powers on the off chance that this ancient charm will work against him?" James paced anxiously. "You're asking me to willingly accept weakening ourselves at a time when we can least afford it."
Lily stared hard at her husband. "I ask nothing of you, James, that I do not ask of myself."
"Don't try and use that tack!" he snapped. "My objection has nothing to do selfishness, as you damned well know," James dragged his hands through his wild mop of hair. "How can you ask me to be less than I am now, when both of your lives could depend upon my skills?"
"Because, it's not just us anymore, Jamie. It's also our son and a...a prophecy."
James seemed surprised for moment and then asked. "Since when did you start to believe in prophecies?"
Glancing back over his shoulder, Harry found himself looking down into his own eyes as Harry-the-toddler sat solemnly, one fist clutching a toy owl by one wing against his cheek as he watched his parents. Harry smiled wryly at the toy. It appeared to be quite well-worn and well-loved stuffed snowy owl.
The young man turned back toward his parents. Yielding to a deep longing, Harry reached out to touch his mother's shoulder, only to have his hand pass through her as if with a ghost.
Lily reached forward and caught James' hand and halted his nervous movement. "Do you trust me, James?"
"With my life," he responded softly. "But, don't think that will stop me questioning this idea, you know. I may not be as well-read in ancient magic and history as you, Lily, but I do know when you're not telling me everything. Truth be told, you're an awful liar, love."
She looked quite cross for a moment before a reluctant smile worked free. "An awful liar, huh? Perhaps Sirius could give me lessons then?"
James sat down beside her and placed an arm around her shoulders. "Why would you want a second-rater like Sirius to instruct you? Everything he knows he learned from me," he mock-boasted.
Lily turned her amused gaze from her husband's face to look down at infant Harry, who had returned to his quiet play in front of the fire. From his vantage, Harry could see something flash across his mother's face; it was a look of mingled determination and despair, possibly.
The young wizard felt a sick swoop in his stomach at her expression, a flash of the fearful feeling that had paralyzed him beside the basin. But what was the connection?
The lounge room began to blur; the separate colors ran together like watercolors as he watched. Harry cried out in denial; he did not want to lose this fragment of his past, but the memories shifted and moved like a living thing. He felt the sickening sense of movement similar to a Portkey and shut his eyes tightly, riding out the storm.
He found himself standing in a dark chamber looking on from slightly behind and to the right as his parents stood across from each other and prepared for a ritual. James laid his wand down and carefully added several drops of his blood to the small silver cauldron that steamed on the long, scarred wooden table. The cauldron's contents glowed red for a few moments before fading. Lily looked up at James and Harry could see a small wistful smile cross her face, but did not reach her eyes. She murmured something Harry could not hear clearly and departed the room for a moment.
Beside the cauldron was two diagrams and a golden goblet, but as Harry tried to move closer to look at their nature, he found he could not move. Lily came back in and returned to her side of the table. She consulted one of the diagrams that Harry strained to see, but all he could make out were some basic runes.
As he watched, his mother added several drops of her own blood to the cauldron and a brilliant green flash shot through the room blinding him momentarily. An instinctive shiver of revulsion swept through Harry as the glow subsided.
Lily decanted the cauldron's contents into the goblet and placed the cup in the center of the table. James turned and went out then; after a few moments, he returned carrying a tired infant-Harry draped over his shoulder.
Harry watched as his father held his younger self cradled in his arms while Lily anointed the child's forehead with some of the potion from the goblet.
She coaxed the infant's mouth open and dropped three drops of the potion on his tongue. The expression of distaste on the infant matched the sudden bitter taste in Harry's mouth.
The younger Harry fussed until James soothed him with soft words and a cuddle. The older Harry felt a tightening in his chest as he watched; the pain of knowing how short a time that the infant would have his parents opened up old emotional wounds that Harry could still feel inside.
Lily reached across and took the baby from James, and placed him in a sitting position on the table facing his father. His father took up his wand and consulting the diagram on his side of the table, began an incantation.
The spirit-jaguar within twisted and yowled in pain and Harry silently screamed in sympathy with it as he shared its agony. The words of the spell were drowned out as Harry almost doubled over and fought off the darkness that tried to steal his consciousness. With great effort, he managed to watch as his father's body glowed incandescently for a second and a silvery gray mist exuded from his form and began to coalesce beside him.
The wraith-like entity continued to grow and formed a vaguely stag-like shape; the miasma was lit from within as tiny rills of lightning shot through it. James' face was visibly graying, his eyes sunk into darkened sockets, as Harry watched. With an agonized shout from James, the creation shot across the table and into infant-Harry, who screamed out terror and pain.
"Dad!" Harry gasped as he watched James collapsed, unconscious to the stone floor. Lily cried out wordlessly, tears leaking from her closed eyes. Baby Harry was distraught; his cheeks were a furious shade of red and tears flowed freely.
Lily recovered her composure after a few moments, and Harry could hear her soft plea despite the screams of his younger self. He saw his mother's expression change from one of guilty remorse to one of anguished determination when she opened her eyes and looked down at her prostrate husband for a long moment before turning back to her diagram.
"Forgive me, James."
She reached around the baby for the goblet and began to chant something that caused the spirit-jaguar to convulse in agony again. Lost in new torment for several moments, Harry was jerked aware once more by his mother's exclamation.
He forced his eyes to focus and saw his father had recovered and now stood behind Lily and was holding her hands apart. From the ritual dagger in one hand and the blood dripping from her other hand, Harry guessed she had intended to add more of her blood to the goblet.
James' face reflected a fury that frightened Harry; he wondered if his mother was in physical peril as she stood stock still in his father's grasp. His father took a long shuddering breath to control his anger it seemed before he spoke.
"What's this about now, Lily? We didn't discuss this part of the ritual, of that I'm certain." James' voice was hard and sharp.
"Let me finish, James," she replied in an anxious whisper.
"Let me see if my slower brain can puzzle some of this out, shall we?" he asked ironically. "If you add more blood to the ritual at this time, the effects…and the costs…become higher, right? Indeed, they would likely require your life in sacrifice at this moment to complete the safeguard charm, wouldn't it?"
Lily remained silent, but her body drooped slack in James' hold. He shook her for a moment, before snatching her back into his arms and holding her tightly.
"Sacrificing your life is not an option I'm willing to consider, Lily!" James ground out furiously. "And it's clear that I was to have no say in the matter, now was I?"
The furious cries of infant Harry continued and Harry watched, mesmerized at the dispute between his parents. His mother had intended to sacrifice her life at this moment for him?
"It must be done, James!" she cried. "I won't see Harry die! I can't…won't let that happen!"
James seemed to hear her anguish as Harry saw his eyes close for a moment as Lily began to sob brokenly. Baby Harry began to hiccup and choke as his distress went unabated.
Suddenly, James' eyes opened, and using Lily's grip on the dagger with his opposite hand, he sliced his palm open anew. Harry heard his mother's choked gasp as James reached across and gripped her bleeding hand and combined his blood with hers to drip into the goblet.
"For our son, Lily," he murmured.
The goblet's contents burst into eerie blue flames several inches high. Lily snatched out something from her robes and added to the mixture. Harry barely managed to identify the object as a Phoenix tail feather.
The flames extinguished as the feather was consumed. Both his parents remained motionless, watching the goblet intently, as the silence stretched on.
Then the goblet began to vibrate and a silvery rill of Phoenix song could be heard. The sound soothed even the fretful infant Harry, but the jaguar growled and snarled angrily. The goblet's contents turned to a golden mist that gravitated toward young Harry.
When the first tendrils of the mist touched the young child's forehead, a sudden loud thunderclap sounded and then darkness fell over Harry once more and the swirling sensation took over once more. He could feel the jaguar within convulsing as if something was affecting the animal.
A brilliantly golden but ghostly Phoenix hovered in the darkness for a long moment before disappearing. The beautiful song echoed in the dark, rushing void as Harry felt the memories shift yet again.
The motion slowed, then ceased abruptly. Harry opened his eyes to look around and found that he was in the lounge room once more. Glancing out of the windows, he saw that the leaves of the trees were bright with autumn shades and that dusk was falling outside.
A muggle record player was located on the right side, tucked into a niche beside the brightly burning fireplace and rather unusual music was coming from it. Harry recognized the general sound, but could not place the group or singer; he felt he had heard the song before though.
Lily came into the room carrying a sleepy toddler-Harry on her shoulder. She went over to the chintz chair beside the phonograph, and settled into with her son cradled in her arms.
A new song started to play and after a moment, Lily began to sing along with the female singer as she rocked her son.
…When logic and proportion
Have fallen sloppy dead
And the White Knight is talking backwards
And the Red Queen's off with her head
Remember what the dormouse said:
"Feed your head
Feed your head"…
The sound of a door opening and closing preceded James' call. "Lily?"
"In the lounge," she called back quietly.
James entered wearily, pulling off his heavy wool cloak to hang on the coat rack. His face seemed somehow older to Harry's mind; lines creased his brow and dark circles shadowed his eyes.
Alarmed by the change, Harry moved forward to get a closer look as Lily looked up. She seemed equally aged and looked very tired.
As he watched, Lily brought the drowsy baby over and cuddled beside James on the sofa. The tableau was so peaceful and lovely that Harry could feel warmth from the image, but he could also discern darker threads of pain and suffering that underlay this serene domestic picture. What else was going on here?
A creeping chill caused him to chafe his hands together, but the friction did little to alleviate the numbing sensation.
"Well, this will be the first Halloween that I'm not celebrating," James murmured.
Lily looked a bit startled for a moment and then smiled. "That's right; I'd forgotten its Halloween tonight."
Harry recoiled in horror when he heard them speak. Halloween!
A loud and frantic ringing bell suddenly sounded in the room. Both his parents jumped to their feet. James swung around to stare at a plaque hanging above the entrance to the lounge room.
The plaque's Gryffindor lion stood rampant and proud, but its golden color was bleeding into black.
"Lily, take Harry and go! It's him! Go! Run! I'll hold him off -"
The scene went dark and Harry could feel movement, and hear the stumbling footsteps of his father leaving the room. Another sensation passed over him, distracting him from the cold.
The room came back into focus and Harry could see the desperation in his mother's face. Anti-apparition wards must have been cast. She dashed from the room through the door in the left wall. Harry pursued her.
Behind him, Harry heard the door blasted open and the sounds of combat spells being cast. Lily sobbed as she dashed up the stairs and into the nursery. Harry watched her as she placed the whimpering toddler down in his crib and rushed to the window. She tried to open the window but to no avail.
There came a resounding crash from downstairs that caused Lily to spin from the window and whisper. "James…"
She moved to the crib just as the high-pitched laughter resounded from below. Harry felt a sudden rush of energy hit him. The spirit-jaguar snarled and lashed out in defensive response.
Shaking his head clear of the dizziness the wave of magic had caused, Harry found his mother staring down into the crib. He moved forward and saw that the toddler-Harry was surrounded by a glowing white nimbus of light that shimmered and moved like a living thing.
"Of course…" Lily's voice trailed off as she closed her eyes.
The nursery door slammed open at that moment and Lily turned to confront the chilling laughter and glowing red eyes of Voldemort.
"Not Harry, not Harry, please not Harry!" she begged.
"Stand aside, you silly girl…stand aside now…" Voldemort motioned threateningly with his wand, but Lily stood firm between the dark lord and her son.
"Not Harry!" she screamed. "Please - I'll do anything! Please, have mercy!"
Voldemort paced closer, the pleased malice in his eyes very evident.
"Stand aside," Voldemort hissed, raising his wand higher. "Stand aside, girl!"
Lily lunged forward, snatching for the wand, but missed as Voldemort drew it back quickly.
""Not Harry, please no, take me, kill me instead," she gasped. "Not Harry, please...have mercy…"
Harry watched Voldemort's wand rise and heard the horrific curse once more. "Avada Kedavra!"
Lily spun round and reached down into the crib to touch her son's face and spoke softly just before the curse hit. "For our son…"
She screamed and collapsed, but Harry felt a second surge of power course through him. The spirit-cat howled in agony as this second wave mounted, greater than the first. Harry heard the Phoenix song return, growing louder and felt the cat and himself being…shaped…changed by it.
Voldemort moved forward a pace and arrogantly cast the Killing curse again without even looking at the toddler in the crib. Harry watched as the green beam intersected the nimbus of now golden energy around his younger self and the two began to interact.
The flash of brilliance blinded him; a crack of thunder sounded and the whole house shook around them. A glowing golden ball of light now glowed where the infant-Harry had been and slowly began to float up into the air.
Voldemort stumbled back in dismay as the orb of light appeared from the crib and slowly shifted into a form. Harry felt it within him as the scene played out before him; bit by painful bit; he and his earlier self were being remade as he watched.
The golden phoenix glowed softly for a moment, and Voldemort shrieked his curse again, "Avada Kedavra!"
The green energy struck again and the phoenix flashed and became a newborn. But this was nothing like Fawkes' controlled life cycle in the Ministry of Magic. All sound seemed to be silenced as the flash froze still for an instant and then exploded outward in a terrific wave of pure energy.
Harry saw the wave hit Voldemort. The dark wizard twisted and writhed, his barely-human face contorted in agonized rage as he was literally disintegrated within a few seconds, leaving behind only the wispy, disembodied spirit Harry remembered from his earlier confrontations with the dark lord. It shrieked once and fled the room.
A secondary explosion of magic came then and the house started to vibrate itself apart. Rushing to the crib, he saw his younger self transform from the wrinkled, flightless phoenix chick that had resulted after the casting of the second curse. The house shivered and quaked around them, but inside the globe of radiant energy around the infant-Harry, everything was still and serene.
The energy flared again and destroyed the house down to the foundations. Splintered beams and shattered glass lay all around them. Harry stared around him in awe as the chaotic energy simply evaporated, leaving behind the crib, its crying occupant and the bodies of his slaughtered parents untouched; all the house's debris had been confined to fall around them as if the debris were only pick-up sticks arranged by plan.
The memories swirled again, and Harry suddenly found himself back in the cavern. The cold feeling was much more pronounced now, and he could feel it stealing through his very veins.
Stumbling to his feet, Harry made his way out of the cavern to find his spirit-jaguar squaring off against his parents' gift, the spirit-phoenix, made of their magical powers and love.
"Stop it!" he exclaimed, rushing to put himself between the two creatures.
A terribly cold sensation passed through Harry, causing him to shudder and stumble. The rocks of the cataract burst apart and a large fountain of water spouted from the rubble.
The Phoenix swelled in size as Harry watched. The jaguar screamed a challenge, and as it charged forward, it too grew in size. Instinctually, Harry knew that they must not fight; that he and they would die if they did so.
He managed to position himself between the animal-spirits, which both turned aside from attacking Harry. But the antipathy of each for the other was clear. Unfettered magic energy filled the air and Harry felt as if all the hair on his head was standing on end from the raw wash of power.
What was not clear to Harry was what he was to do about this. There was no helpful advice he could turn to in this moment. The animagus text had never even mentioned the possibility of multiple forms. Hermione had certainly never discussed such an option or possibility when she had been persuading him and Ron to take McGonagall's class. He really wished he could ask for her advice at this moment.
As he desperately pondered what to do, voices laced with concern and desperation came to him in snatches.
"…understand! Why won't he…" Hermione's voice, harshly questioning.
"Harry's dying, you bloody overgrown feather duster! You…" Ron's tones of righteous anger.
"Fawkes, please assist us…Fawkes…?" Dumbledore's quieter request, turning to unsure pleading.
The cold was growing faster, creeping up his limbs. Harry felt as if the weight was leaning on his chest had increased threefold. Each breath was a struggle.
{You're dying, Harry} The voice of the spirit-phoenix was odd and seemed to echo strangely in the grove. {You must decide soon, or you will be lost.}
"What do you mean?" he gasped.
{You need to choose.}
[It wants to be of us. To supplant us.] The jaguar snarled. [Do not permit that to happen.]
Harry shook his head, totally confused. The Phoenix form was his mother's magical power to protect him; his father's magical skill in transformation. But hadn't the spell completed its task already?
"Why are you still here in me?" Harry questioned the Phoenix.
{The parts created me and we are all of one part now,} It replied. {You caged me, and now, we are of you.} Harry could now discern that its voice was two separate voices, speaking together. The bird spoke with the voices of his parents.
"I don't understand," the young wizard asked faintly. He could feel his heartbeat thudding hard inside his chest, like he had been running hard or chasing down a Snitch. "You aren't me, because the Jaguar is, right? What do you mean by parts?"
{The parts came together into one and we became one with you.}
What did it mean by that remark? Harry looked down at his feet for a moment, feeling warmth surrounding his feet. The water of the stream was clear no longer. It was opaque and the color of blood.
Blood. His parents' ritual involved blood. His mother's blood, shared with his aunt had allowed Professor Dumbledore to create his protections for Harry. Voldemort needed Harry's blood to complete his ritual. There was too much coincidence in commonality of the presence of blood for Harry to overlook. Was it all about his parents' efforts to preserve him against Voldemort that was the issue here?
The spirit-Phoenix rustled its feathers anxiously. {Do not cage me again.}
The jaguar snarled wordless defiance and lunged. Harry barely managed to intercept the creature's advance and deflect it.
"Stop it, both of you!" Harry gasped. He stumbled to his knees as weakness passed through his limbs. He felt the two spirit forms press closer; close enough that he could just reach out and touch them.
But how could he choose between them? The jaguar was his inner self, but the phoenix was the tie to his dead parents and their sacrifice. Both existed within him now, equal but separate.
"But this is not a fair choice," He whispered desperately. "It's more like no choice!"
No choice…Harry felt the thought echo in his mind. Could the solution be as simple as not choosing one over the other?
The scene was darkening as if the sun was setting; golden light bleeding into crimson. Whatever he was going to do, he needed to do it quickly.
Putting out both arms in opposite directions, Harry deliberately used his remaining strength to touch his spirit animals as he spoke.
"I choose…both of you!"
Energy shot through him, like lightning to the ground. The jaguar within became overlaid by the phoenix form; both patterns existing in the same place, but discretely separate as well. Darkness swept him toward the voices that grew louder.
"I can't understand why he won't help Harry!" Hermione's tone was shrill now and slightly hysterical.
"I cannot answer that question, Miss Granger," Professor Dumbledore's voice was clearly puzzled and concerned. "But since there is no way to coerce a phoenix to assist in such a fashion, we must seek an alternative solution. Hagrid, please carry Mr. Potter to …"
A rush of warmth ran through Harry as he listened; it mingled with the dark venom in his veins and fought. There was a breath of wind against Harry's cheek and he heard Hermione snap. "Will you finally help him then, you useless, jumped-up chicken? He hasn't much time…"
Phoenix song blanked the rest of the voices. The warmth receded for a moment, then returned even stronger, accompanied by the uncomfortable sensation of shape shifting. Harry felt his mass and form reducing and felt oddly light.
He managed to open his eyes and found his vision blurred and fuzzy. Blinking a few times, Harry realized that he was looking down at his friends and teachers from a small height. Hermione's face was scratched badly on her left cheek and Ron's forearm had a deep gash that was still bleeding sluggishly, Harry noted. The other students also had minor injuries.
What was more peculiar to Harry was that they all seemed to be staring at him with the same bemused expression. Indeed, both Ron and Hermione bore an identical stunned and gape-mouthed look that made them appear almost related. The warmth was fading, and the painful chill was creeping back, but Harry did not feel alarmed by it. The change seemed to something completely normal; something to be accepted and even anticipated.
He looked around shakily, and noticed the bodies of the acromantulas still lay in the glade, though obviously moved together to the far side. It was hard to focus clearly because he seemed to be rocking steadily up and down. As Harry turned back to his friends and teachers, he glimpsed Fawkes at his right shoulder, just outside of his wing draft, singing softly.
Hang on….wings? Harry squawked most unbecomingly for a phoenix and bobbled clumsily in the air for a moment. He had changed forms without consciously willing it? The chill and numbness attacked again as he wondered about what he had just done.
From the corner of his eye, Harry saw his more gold than red plumage begin to darken and droop. Several feathers dropped from his shoulders and Harry felt his joints become stiff and painful. The rush of changes through him was hauntingly familiar.
Without warning, darkness rushed over his vision and Harry felt it strike to the very bone. All grew still and silent for him then, save for the distant sound of Hermione calling his name.
Suddenly, a small sun of warmth blasted into life within his core and burned outward in ferocious burst. It consumed everything in its wake, but recreated as well. Fawkes' happy trill echoed as Harry's form flashed.
The wave of energy mounted higher and then, like the snapping of a bow, it released. A low rumble dimmed Harry's hearing in the aftermath.
"Harry!" Hermione's scream combined with Ron's desperate yell. Other exclamations of both fear and wonder came from the others, but he could not discern their words.
THWUMP!
Grayness seemed to surround Harry as he came back to full consciousness. Feebly straining toward the fleck of light above, he found himself in a small pile of ashes. Everyone was gathered around him and were all looking in rather good form. Their clothes and faces were all clean and mended fully. They all hovered above him and seemed to be staring down at him with more than a touch of awe in their expressions.
Feeling much worse for wear, Harry wondered, a touch resentful, why they had not cast the same spells for him. Feeling enough of his own energy return, he teetered a bit away from the group and concentrated on his human form and how it should feel.
The snapping and cracking of bone and tendon was now rather mild and the sudden increase of mass felt proper. Harry happily flexed his hands and found them to be familiar and completely human. Reaching up to his face, Harry was reassured by the feel of normal cheeks and his proper nose. A sudden frightened wondering if he might have botched his return change and ended up with a nose like Snape's had prompted his investigation.
Relieved, Harry turned round to face his friends and teachers. "I've done it!"
His bright smile began to fade as his announcement seemed to provoke ill-concealed amusement amongst his watchers. Ginny was snickering before Ron forced his hand over her eyes. Luna was the only person who responded to his declaration.
"Well done, Harry," she said with a vague smile.
Hermione had looked down at the ground, and seemed to be struggling to control her emotions; a hectic flush was visible on her cheeks. Neville was clearly embarrassed and looking around at everything but Harry. McGonagall was beset with a coughing fit, Hagrid looked puzzled and Dumbledore looked highly diverted.
With his usual aplomb, Ron sent several grimaces and strange glances that Harry could not decipher. Finally, flummoxed, Harry asked. "Ron, what are you going on about?"
Ron gave a strangled gasp and fought to keep his hand in front of Ginny's eyes as she began to fight to free herself.
Hermione looked up then, and with a small, rather smug smile, said. "Harry, you forgot to transfigure your clothes."
Blood rushed to Harry's now-human cheeks as he sat down in a flash and pulled his legs up in front to cover himself. "Oh god…" The heat of his face rivaled that that he had felt in the phoenix form.
Dumbledore conjured a robe and Harry accepted it with alacrity. "Perhaps it would be best all around to head back to the castle and have a small snack and discuss why you students are here in the Forbidden Forest, hmm?"
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