Aftermath
After everything, the funerals, the celebrations, more funerals, rebuilding, the trials, and then the last of the memorials Harry felt . . . nothing. Well that wasn’t entirely accurate. He just didn’t feel motivated by the life that flowed around him. Ron went into Auror training. Hermoine went back for an 8th year at Hogwarts to finish their interrupted schooling, as did many of their classmates that survived. The Wizarding world was moving on from the events. Rebuilding and starting new lives. He was just, stuck, in a gray fog.
He also felt pain. The low grinding kind that seemed petty to complain about without being able to point out a cause. The kind that slowly sapped your strength as energy was spent up in just being able to function. Harry couldn’t say when exactly that started. Hard to when he had been wounded, underweight from being on the run, and lets not forget, surviving the Killing Curse yet again. He and pain were old friends after all.
Harry Potter, the Man who couldn’t die. He’d rather have back all the people he lost than keep that title. The fame, he never wanted it in the first place. Now it was even worse. Enough to have him moving into Grimmauld Place and locking down the floo, letting Kreacher to deal with the mail. Being around all those people that just wanted him for his fame seemed to drain his energy level even faster. Like they were pulling from him something he couldn’t afford to give.
Oddly enough Kreacher had a major change in attitude. No more insults. The place actually appeared to slowly clean itself up. The creepy staring and cryptic muttering he could do without, but Harry would take what he could get. Besides, the books that started popping up around him were interesting. HIstories, personal accounts from the past, books on runes, on warding and all kinds of magic. Now that he wasn’t focused on just trying to stay alive it almost felt like the intellectual part of his mind was starting to perk up. While he wasn’t tempted by what was going on in the outside world, the escape these books provided was welcome.
What was frustrating is the one that was written in an odd almost-familiar flowing script. Incredibly old, he was surprised when he found it, surprised that Kreacher would move such an obviously fragile old treasure of a book.
Books had long been an way to hide from the painful reality of life for Harry. The library was a place Dudley and his gang never set foot into, so someplace that he went to every chance he got. Not nearly often enough, and he never dared bring the books home. But there between the shelves and in the pages he could escape his dreary downtrodden life and exchange it for something different. A place of peace. Something he rarely got in his day to day life. Even once he went to Hogwarts peaceful was not a descriptor he could put on his time in the wizarding world. Was it selfish to want a little bit of it?
During his time in school his attention was constantly pulled in so many directions. His book work dictated by what his teachers wanted from him, or what he needed to just survive. (And sometimes from what Hermoine wanted.) Always the pressure rather than the ability to simply sit and take them in at his own pace. Odd that now that the pressure was gone Harry started devouring the knowledge in books at a much more rapid pace. They seemed, easier, to understand somehow.
Now Grimmauld Place was where he felt a bit of peace. Each time he set foot outside, it was like the world had become this giant discordant noise that he could barely tolerate. The public seemed to expect some sort of triumph hero that would continue to stand between them and danger. For Harry to destroy all that was dark in the world. Except, dark itself wasn’t necessarily a bad thing?
Oh don’t get him wrong, Voldeyshorts and his Death Munchers did some very evil things. And there were some terrible curses out there. However even the so-called lightest of magic could be used for harm. Take wingardium leviosa, a spell they taught first years. You could use that to lift a giant rock and drop it on someone’s head. So how did you judge? How did you know where the line was beyond the obvious. Didn’t stars shine the brightest in the dark? So how did you differentiate between dark and evil? When did dark become corrupt?
The thought about stars and darkness gave him pause. He was living in the Black townhouse, the family that named their children after the stars. Perhaps he might find something in the books belonging to the Blacks. As if the House was responding to his needs while was was wandering he found a door he had never seen before. It had the same crest upon it that was on the book that seemed to almost be following him around now. It was shaped like a diamond. The edges were silver-white, and the center depicted twelve white stars – geometrically arranged in groups of four – upon a deep blue field.
Something about it called to him, in a way Harry really couldn’t define.It almost felt like a forgotten dream. No defined memory or meaning to it, just that it was important. He placed his hand on the door handle and a frisson of energy tingled across his hand. Nothing painful, more like a slightly prickly tickle. He heard a faint click, then turned the knob, and the door opened.
Harry slowly stepped into a tiny piece of paradise. Flowing water cascading in a waterfall down one wall into a basin that turned almost into a river. This led to a section with lush plants including slim silver barked trees with golden blossoms. The high flowing arches of the room separated out an area with a bookcase containing numerous books and small sculptures. A few paintings adorned the wall depicting expanded scenery that matches the various slices of the room. The ceiling itself painted dark with stars in constellations he had never seen before. Throughout the room small glowing lights helped give it an ethereal glow.
The whole room gave off an encompassing feeling of welcome. It swept over him, like being pulled into loving arms. A sense of belonging he’d only ever found at Hogwarts and this was even more intense. Harry was not a crier. Time and time again taught him that tears got him nothing,, and in many cases they only heaped scorn upon him. Yet in this moment so overwhelmed by the sensation softly enfolding him, moisture gathered at the corners of his eyes. He thinks this is what it might have felt like to be held by his parents.
That is also when he noticed the little lights start to move.
They drifted closer to him, not all at once, some stayed a bit distance, but a good many were coming closer. Lazily encircling him, and with them the feeling of welcome intensified. One particularly bright light stilled in front of him. Its colors shift with the same silver-white and deep blue of the crest on the door.
“Master has found the Room of Stars.” Harry turned and in the open door stood an astonished Kreacher. The little being wrings his hands with an almost pleading expression on his face. “Kreacher feared the oath would not be fulfilled. That the Great House of Black would fail the Great Stars.”
Well, that was an interesting bit of information Harry wasn’t sure what to do with. Great Stars? Oath? What the bloody hell did he just wander into? Hopefully not another bit of some chosen one nonsense, he’d had his fill of trying to live up to impossible expectations already. Even so . . .
Harry shifted his gaze from Kreacher to the shining little ball of light in front of him. A part of him ached to just reach out and touch. Slowly he held a hand palm up, stopping short of it. A small smile crept up on his face as the light drifted down and settled on it. The feeling of warmth, of comfort and welcome that emanated from it. “What, what is this room?” He asked softly. “What are these lights?”
Kreacher slowly padded into the room towards Harry. A handful of the lights chose to gently drift over to the House Elf. They circled his form in a friendly manner as the little being spoke. “Kreacher takes care of the Great Stars, yes. Taught by the Guiding Star, helped him with this room. Helped him make a place for the Lost Ones until they can go home.” As he spoke he pointed at the glowing lights.
Okay, that told him exactly . . . nothing. Except that Kreacher might be really old. And for some reason was being even nicer to him right now. Well if these Great Stars liked Harry, and the House Elf was some sort of caretaker for them, that could be why.
“Kreacher had to keep the door shut when nasty magics ins the house yes. So they not hurt the Great Stars.” Ah, that could have possibly led to the House Elf’s attitude and general demeanor before. Harry had seen at times what denying at House Elf what they considered part of their duty could do to them. The mess that Winky became for example. “Nasty Master wouldn’t listen when Kreacher tried to tell him of room.” And that explained some of his attitude towards Sirius. Huh he was getting all kinds of insight into things today.
Some of the little lights had joined the one in front of him settling all over Harry. He didn’t mind. It just added to the overall feeling of being embraced in warmth and acceptance. It was a feeling unlike any other. He’d come close to it at times. The acceptance from the Weasley family, from Sirius, Remus. It was a little bit like that in the way a candle was compared to a bonfire. He always felt a little detached from it all. Here, Harry felt like he belonged.
“That doesn’t tell me what they are, what do you mean by them being lost ones? Does this have anything to do with that book? I can’t read whatever language it's in.”
At his question Kreacher seemed to perk up even more. “Master has seen the book? Master has opened the book?” Eyes shining, Kreacher came over to Harry and reached to grab the edge of his sleeve. He tugged Harry in the direction of a comfortable looking couch that was tucked between some of the greenery and the shelves. “Master should take a nap in the Room of Stars. See if the Great Star can speak with him, yes.”
Baffled Harry let Kreacher lead him over to the couch and get him to lay down. The lights followed along and redistributed themselves along him as he laid down. The house elf fussed making sure a soft pillow was under the wizard’s head. “Speak to me? What, you think they can talk to me if I’m asleep? In my dreams?”
It could seem strange, the fact he took all of this so calmly. That he trusted Kreacher and whatever strange things were going on in this room. At this same time this was a mystery he wanted answers to, and it looked like they might be freely offered. Getting information out of a House Elf could be an exercise in patience. They weren’t human and didn’t think the same way humans did. (Or wizard for that matter. Those tended to think differently than non-magical people for the most part so he found.) It helped that this whole place emanate welcome and comfort
“The Great Star can, if you have enough Black family magic. Master can see the book, open the book, found the room. Master might be the one to help the Great Stars.” Harry wasn’t sure if he was comforted by that or not. Before he could make up his mind the bright light that had been cradled in his palm floated up towards his face. Kreacher gently took his glasses. There at the edge of hearing, one might faintly hear a male voice speaking in a strange language.
“Losto tithen pen, Losto.”
His eyelids grew heavy and slid shut as Harry plunged into sleep. At first his dreams were random snatches of memories. Little slices that made up some of the most pivotal moments in his life. Which, to be frank, weren’t necessarily all the nicest of things. Sad to say he had far more unpleasant ones than not. Still there were a few bright spots in there. His friendship with Ron and Hermoine. The freedom of flying on his broom. A quiet moment where Sirius was teaching him something. They helped to balance the more caustic memories of his ‘loving relatives’ and the fight against Tom Riddle.
When those all faded he found himself on a balcony overlooking white gleaming buildings with cascading waterfalls around them. The architecture was similar in style to that in the room he found. He looked out at the view until he heard a voice behind him. “I grew up here. Before everything.” Harry whirled around to see a very tall dark haired man with light gray eyes dressed in some sort of elegant tunic thing and leggings. Wait, no, the stranger’s ears were gracefully pointed? Not what he was expecting. Harry blinked a few times. “Um, yeah it's pretty. Where are we? Who are you?”
“We’re in my memory of Lindon, in a place called Middle Earth and I am what our small friend calls the Great Star. But you can call me the name I was given in your world, Polaris.” The stranger gave him a soft smile. “Which probably doesn’t tell you much. I have much to tell you little one, and not enough time to convey it. At least, not tonight.”
“I’m not that little, you are just . . . tall!” A soft laugh came in reply to Harry’s sputtered response. “I am most sorry, young one then. Though you have a chance of getting this tall eventually. However I should perhaps start at the beginning so you have a better understanding of what is going on.”
Gracefully he sat down on a bench and gestured for Harry to join him. Honestly the grace and otherworldly beauty of this person made Harry feel clumsy and awkward. The wizard did manage to sit down without falling down so he would call that a win. “I would appreciate it, yes.” He scowled. “It seems like all my life no one wanted to really explain anything to me, I was just supposed to go along with it.”
Polaris frowned, “Yes, forgive me for intruding on your memories but I did see a bit of that. You never should have gone through all that. Especially with little to no instructions or training. You should have been protected, treasured, and I am very sorry that you were not.”
Harry didn't really know how to respond to that. A part of him ached thinking of all the expectations that had been laid on him. An echo of the pain he had gone through during his short life. The older male seemed to notice his indecision and twitched, almost like he wanted to move closer but refrained from it for the moment. “You need healing, of a type that you cannot get here.” A small sigh escaped Polaris before he straightened up a fraction. “No matter, we will do what we can for you young one, never you fear. We will help you.”
“You can call me Harry, you know.” He offered the other a shy smile. “And, um. . . thanks.” He paused a beat before prompting, “So, you said, this was your home?”
“A long time ago, yes. Before I had a run in with a terrible dark lord. One that may be difficult for you to believe, but even worse than the one you faced. I had been captured, the image you see of me now is a memory of what I looked like before. I will not be inflicting any of my memories of that terrible time and place upon you. No one needs to see that.” Polaris lifted an eyebrow at Harry. “And do not try to tell me that you can handle it. I have a hard time handling it, and wish to relive it as little as possible.”
Ah, well that comment had the protest on Harry’s lips dying away before it could be released. He didn’t like reliving his own memories, so he would hardly try to make someone else go through theirs. Instead he would just listen.
“There came a time where I had given up all hope of rescue. The only thought I had was to escape. To find a way to end the pain, and make sure he could not keep hold of me in any way. Due to his . . . actions . . . I was able to break free of some of my confinement and searched for a way out. My time, and choices, were limited. In a moment of desperation I seized upon a strange . . . I’m not even sure what it was really but I went through it and found myself elsewhere. Here, in your world someplace so unlike my own. A realm where what you call an elf was vastly different from my own people.”
Harry watched the elf as he continued his tale, remaining quiet. Some stories, even if you wish to tell them, recount the horrors in your past. Making them a struggle to shape the words that escape from you to share what has happened. His own tale is one that he would want to simplify, speak little of, and may not be able to finish if interrupted.
“I was found by a wizard of this world, and despite my differences, their family took me and nursed me back to health, at least as much as they could. Some of the damage can only be healed by my own people. I had nothing, and they gave me everything they could.” His lips quirked in a half smile. “So in a way I gave back to the family in any way I could, marrying a daughter of the house and siring children. My little stars that shone brightly against the blackness of what had been done to me.”
There was obviously a great deal of detail left out, but their time was limited by how long Harry would stay asleep. So the wizard didn’t begrudge the lack of detail for that reason alone. Plus he wasn’t stupid and could read at least between the lines that this is where the Black family’s tradition of naming their children after the stars could have started. And the family name as well, if Polaris thought of himself as blackened by what happened.
“I knew my hroa, my body, was slowly failing because of what I endured and with no true elven healers on hand to help me fix it. The magics of this world are far different than the ones of my own. I in part feared what may happen to my fea, my soul or spirit you would call them, when my body finally gave out. You see, in my world our fea is linked to the world we live in. When our bodies die we go to the halls of Mandros for healing before being reinbodied in the undying lands. Without a way back to Arda, what would happen to me? So I started to try and find a solution, what I found was that I was not alone.”
A surprised look blossomed on Harry’s face as he impulsively interjected. “You mean there were others? Were they all escaping a Dark Lord like you?”
Polaris nodded. “Yes, those that came before, and a handful after. As well as the souls that were displaced here by the Dark Lord’s master and teacher, long ago.” Beyond the elf Harry could now see other elves, male, female, blondes, brunettes, red-heads. Male, female, and some that were difficult to determine which, not that part was important. Just a fact that was filed away in the back of his mind.
As he looked Polaris continued. “So with the help of the little spirits of the land and house, we built this room as a sanctuary for those in need. I do not know how they managed it, but it would always be connected to a place that my descendants resided within, and only could be opened by them. The little lights you saw? Those are what remain of us after our bodies failed. Or in the case of the earliest, they were forced into this world like that. So I created a sanctuary in order that they would have a place to go. I recorded everything that I found within a book, to preserve the story.”
“I opened the door, so I’m descended from you? You’re, you’re my family?” Harry’s focus is utterly on the elf in front of him. All he ever really wanted was a family of his own. One that wanted him. One that accepted him completely. He didn’t care that this possible ancestor of his was a different race, that part didn’t matter.
The smile on Polaris’s face warmed as he looked at the young one in front of him. He must have seen something in Harry’s face because he held his arms out in invitation. This might be a dream, but the young wizard lurched forward and wrapped his arms around the elf, burying his face against the older male’s chest, tears burning in his eyes. He could even feel the warmth of the arms encircling him and holding him close.
Oddly, after a moment he felt more warm touches. Like more hands and arms trying to hold him close. It was boarding on too much. Overly Warm and very much overwhelming. He heard Polaris’s voice call out with a firm tone in a language he couldn’t understand and after a moment the feeling lessened and Harry was left with just the presence of his ancestor. “Oh young one, somehow you have managed to be born of several lines of elves stranded in your world. You are most welcome with us and among us. You are very loved.”
That made his eyes burn even more, and a few tears slid free. “You don’t even know me.” The gentle reply came, “That does not matter. You are kin. No matter what degree between us, you are kin and a young one at that. You are loved and cared for.”
A feeling of warmth completely enveloped him as a faint distressed noise escaped Polaris. “Oh, you have been hurt so badly. I will do what I can, but I fear what may happen to you if I include the others, and we do too much to heal your fea. Already I fear the changes that may have been triggered. I would not see you stranded here one day like the rest of us.”
A strangled laugh tangled with a sob escaped Harry. “Already stranded here. Everything feel so wrong outside. I can’t stand it. I just want to feel normal but I don’t even know what that is!” The arms holding the young wizard tightened around him.
“I . . . see. I do not know if I can help with that, but I can try.” Polaris started to sing softly in the same language he spoke before. The warmth and comfort rising up around Harry and engulfing him. They sat like that a long time before it felt like the edges of reality were fuzzing, somehow growing dimmer. “Young one, I do not have much more time for now. Do I have your permission to enter your dreams again, or try to talk to you while you are awake?”
A disgruntled sound escaped Harry. “Don’t wanna wake up.”
“I am sorry young one,” the elf replied softly. “I am no Irmo to hold you fast within a dream. Your mind needs rest, then your body must wake. Do I have your permission to reach out to you again?”
Reluctantly the young wizard pulled back. “Yes.” He swallowed and paused. “Can I call you Grandfather?” Somehow the more formal version of the term seemed to apply here. Polaris smiled brightly back at him. “Of course my young star.”
“I did tell you I’m Harry, you can call me that.” The elf quirked an eyebrow at the name. “Hmm odd choice but I can see why perhaps.” He ruffled the dark unruly hair on top of the wizard's head, and then laughed when his descendant squawked, “Not like that.” The laughter and warmth followed as the dream finally dissolved into soft darkness. Harry’s body pulled deeper into sleep.