Releasing his hold on the tiny object which was to be his salvation, Harry tucked his arms in and rolled over. Panting heavily, he placed his hands under him and pushed, at the same time digging his toes into the sward and thrusting up with his hips. Feeling as though Dumbledore's guardian gargoyle were sitting on his shoulders, Harry managed at last to achieve a kneeling position, though the effort nearly caused him to pass out.
His breathing was growing ragged, his strength flowing from him like potion from a sundered cauldron. Grinding his teeth together until his jaws ached, Harry strove with every ounce of will to get to his feet. After three failures, he abandoned any further attempt.
Then, as before, it was only with the loss of all cogent thought that his instincts kicked in. He laboriously extracted his wand and, after a pause to slow his breathing and clear his mind, touched it to his midsection.
"W-Wingardium...Leviosa."
Harry drifted upwards slowly, his legs dangling under him like those of a puppet until his toes were just brushing the ground. Thus released from gravity's burden, Harry's muscles relaxed somewhat, though the pain in his joints was becoming excruciating. He lifted his head, eased his shoulders back slowly to keep from passing out. A casual onlooker would have presumed him to be standing rather than floating centimeters off the ground like a tethered helium balloon.
Harry's pouch was still around his neck, but his broomstick lay on the ground at his feet. This was easily remedied.
"Accio!"
Harry's Firebolt leaped into his left hand. He stabbed the handle into the ground, freeing his hands for the next phase of his plan. He opened the side flap of his pouch and tugged out his Invisibility Cloak. He shook it out and flung it carelessly over his shoulders. Having no further use for his pouch (and being unable to remove it, covered as he was by his Cloak), he severed the strap with an Incisor Charm and let it drop to the ground. His arms now unencumbered, he uprooted his broom and slid it between his dangling legs.
Now came the tricky part. A quick jerk upwards was needed to activate the flying spell with which the broom was Charmed. This was commonly done by the rider kicking off from the ground. Were Harry's legs strong enough to get him airborne? There was only one way to find out.
Harry tested his legs, found them to be responsive, though his knees ached terribly. Perhaps his leg muscles, unburdened by his weightless body, had relaxed sufficiently to have regained strength enough to accomplish this final, and most critical, task. No doubt they would improve with time; but time was a commodity of which Harry had but little, and that meager portion was even now evaporating to nil. He would have to risk it. With a wave of his wand, he cancelled the Levitation Charm.
Immediately his knees buckled, sending sharp pain through his thighs. His breath hissing through his teeth like a weight lifter essaying a clean and jerk, Harry poured every iota of energy into his rubbery legs and thrust upwards.
Elation surged through him as he lifted off and hovered a few feet off the ground. But though the broom under him was stable, its rider was as far removed from that state as was possible. Immediately he began to lose his purchase, his legs and left hand too weak to grip the handle. With desperate haste, Harry touched his wand to his legs.
"Adhesio!"
In an instant it was as if his legs were welded to his broomstick. He quickly repeated the Charm on his left hand. He centered his weight, holding his breath until he was hovering motionless above the ground. Smiling infirmly, Harry pocketed his wand and proceeded to wrap himself from head to foot with his Invisibility Cloak, covering both himself and his broomstick. It was a tricky job to accomplish one-handed, but Harry persevered until naught but his wand arm remained exposed. Without his discarded pouch as an encumbrance, the Cloak wrapped him like a second skin. Once he was enfolded coccoon-like in the shimmering fabric, he extracted his wand (no easy task, encased as he was) and applied the Adhesion Charm to strategic points until he was sealed in. At last he drew his arm inside and applied a final seal, leaving only a tiny slit in the hood through which to see and breathe.
He was wrapped so tightly, in fact, that he momentarily despaired of being able to fulfill the final step. He needed to maneuver his wand into a position where he could touch the poke containing the lock of Hermione's hair. The Unification Charm needed physical contact for maximum effect, and, under present circumstances, nothing less than maximum would suffice. Half the circumference of the globe lay between him and Hermione. The more potent the spell, the swifter it would unite him with Hermione. And at this late hour, speed was crucial. Borne by the Charm, he would be caught up like a leaf in a hurricane at speeds far outstripping that of which even a Firebolt was capable under its own power. But would even that be enough to erase the vast distance separating him and Hermione ere the sun rose over the shores of Britain?
Of obstacles or physical barriers he had no fear. He had long since Charmed his broom to avoid significant objects, whether trees, mountains, buildings, or Muggle aeroplanes. Thus, he need not steer in order to pilot the broomstick. But normal flght did require force of will. The Unification Charm, however, was sufficient unto itself. Once the Charm was initiated, the lock of hair hanging around his neck would be drawn unerringly, and irresistibly, to the head from which it had come. The broomstick would be incidental, becoming nothing more than a passenger on the magical wings of the Charm, even as Harry himself.
That which he had feared when attempting to recover his lost broomstick was not an issue here. Had he attempted to Unify his broom twig with its lost parent, the light sliver would have been snatched from his hand from the force of the spell -- the Unification Charm invariably resulted in the smaller object to be drawn to the larger. Nor would a Sticking Charm have availed; the twig would have ripped the skin from Harry's fingers in its zeal to return whence it came. But the poke containing Hermione's hair would not be snatched away, nor could any power on earth tear it from his flesh. It was magically bonded to his very life-force -- his Chi; wherever it went, he would go. And, being virtually weightless upon his hovering broom, Harry still represented the lesser factor in the equation, ensuring that he would be drawn to Hermione rather than the reverse.
Struggling within the confining folds of his Cloak, Harry managed at last to grasp the invisible poke. He would have made it visible, if only to reassure himself by the sight of it, but he feared that to render it thus might also negate the Bonding Charm. In his weakened state, he could easily botch the spell and undo everything. But in the darkness in which he was now wrapped, he could not see it, anyway. Nor did he need to. His fingers closed around the poke and caressed it. In his mind's eye, he could see Hermione standing in the Weasleys' back garden, smiling at him, beckoning to him. Had it not been magically welded to his person, he would have raised the tiny object to his lips and kissed it.
I'm coming, Hermione. I'm coming. Just like I promised.
And with that silent declaration, Harry eased his wand up within the folds of his Cloak, touched the tip to the poke and said, "UNIFICUS!"
With an abruptness that made his stomach lurch, Harry's broomstick leaped forward like an arrow shot from a bow. Harry smiled as he felt the tug of the poke as it lay against his chest, knew it was being drawn unswervingly, inexorably to the woman he loved.
A great weariness now overcame Harry. Will power and adrenaline had pushed him to his limits, and now, with the realization of his goal, he felt a great lethargy permeate him. Hugging his wand to him, Harry relaxed and lay forward. The Cushioning Charm built into the broom handle supported his head with feathery softness, and as his thoughts eddied in his exhausted brain, Harry imagined that he lay with his head cradled in Hermione's arms.
As immeasurable time passed, soundless but for the rushing of the wind, Harry groaned in a troubled delirium in which objects swam before him, blurred and indistinct. One resolved itself into a face framed by a nimbus of bushy brown hair. Next to it was something glowing brightly -- a flame -- no, a face -- a laughing, joyful face awash with smoldering freckles and crowned with hair the color of fire.
"No," Harry mumbled, his face a steaming oven, his body shivering icily. "No, don't marry him, Hermione! I'm coming! Wait for me, Hermione! Wait for me!"
And Hermione smiled the smile that could melt the snow from Everest's brow and said, "I'll wait for you, Harry. I'll wait for you.
"But not forever."
Harry snapped awake abruptly, unable to remember where he was. Realization came slowly, and with it -- fear.
He was cold, terribly cold, and his instinct told him that it was from more than just his illness (though that seemed to be escalating to fearful proportions). There was a familiar flutter in his stomach that told him his broom was rising. Even through his stupor, Harry found sufficient lucidity to swear aloud.
How could he have been so stupid? Sick though he was, should he not have realized? Mountains! The bloody Himalayas! He was flying over the roof of the world! The air was growing steadily colder, chilling him to the bone -- and thinner! It was already becoming harder to breathe, something he'd found difficult enough with both feet on the ground.
He couldn't divert the broomstick from its magical path. He was flying solely under the impetus of the Unification Charm. And he dared not nullify the Charm. Clouded though his mind was, he was not deluded enough to try to fly under his own power. However dire his predicament, crashing headlong into the peak of K-2 was hardly a viable option.
Was this how it was to end, then? To freeze to death, or asphyxiate, six miles above the world, on a mindless, soulless stick of enchanted wood?
As Harry's last vestiges of reason dissolved into madness, the survival instincts of his Auror training again asserted themselves. It was with no conscious thought that he sought his wand, gripped it with shaking fingers, raised it until the point was touching his breast. His dry, fevered lips pursed; his hoarse vocal cords rasped against each other in the parched, frigid air. As if he were a detached observer -- a patron in a theatre of the fantastic -- his ears heard his voice as if from miles away:
"STUPEFY!"
Author's Note: Thus is the reason for the Unification Charm revealed. Consider it a link in a chain begun in the books. J.K. introduced the Summoning Charm as a means of acquiring Ton-Tongue Toffees, and it ended up fetching Harry his Firebolt when he needed it most. Here, I started with Harry's broomstick and refocused the Charm to unite him with something (someONE) far more important. Thus is my jest ended. But the story is not. Return next time for the finale (I was going to say grand finale, but that remains for the readers to determine). As always, thanks for reading.