A Reason to Live

Warnings for: canon-typical violence, canon character death

Black Lodge, 3rd November 2003

The dining room is… much fuller than before, as I peek in, after coming in through the back door ahead of Teal’c and getting curious about the noises emanating from this room.

“Whoa! George? Nev? And…. Whoa. Why are you all here?”

“Can’t you guess, Harry?”

“The Unspeakables–.”

“Don’t spoil the fun, Neville. And who’s the awesome blogue with a tattoo behind you, Harry? New bodyguard?”

“He’s a new friend. Come on, introduce yourself.”

“Hello, Harry’s companions. I am Teal’c of Chulak.”

“Ooh, I like the bow. Quite smooth, mister.”

“Chulak…. It’s not anywhere near here, is it? Are you from somewhere in Africa?”

“No, I am not, miss.”

“Where are you from?”

“Chulak.”

“Come on, folks, enough with the interrogation. Why are you here? Something about the Unspeakables?”

“They tried to detain George in their department, Harry. – No, shut up, George. – Well, George fought back, and some of them got injured, so he got to be dumped in an Auror holding cell instead. Neville broke him out… after he got tipped by the Minister.”

“Kingsley?”

“Yes, Harry. I know. I couldn’t believe it, myself, when Neville told me. After… well, that day, you know I’ve been distancing myself from anything to do with him. But apparently he’s been having his own investigation about that day. At least that’s what he told Neville. They met under disguise in Kew Gardens – can you believe it?”

“I believe it more than Kingsley jeopardising his position and life to get George out. No offence, George, but three people were murdered in broad daylight, and here you were about to be… framed, maybe, by the Unspeakables.”

“Not that the Unspeakables are good to their prisoners.”

“Mione….”

“No, Harry, they must know.”

“Mione, it’s not your secret to give. Even if you got permission from one, you haven’t gotten any permission from the other. There’s something more pressing, anyway, right now. – George, did the Unspeakables say something to you when they were about to nab you?”

“Nope. Why would they? They’re Unspeakables, after all.”

“Is anybody else thinking they’re in danger from getting picked up by the Unspeakables? – Whoa. All right. What should we do, now? You’re welcome to stay here with me, but I won’t be here forever, and Black properties recognise Black blood only….”

“We do have Black blood in some of us, Harry. My great-grandmother and George’s grandmother were Blacks, and they weren’t disowned. But I agree that we can’t stay here forever.”

“No, I don’t want to be on the run again.”

“Neither do I, Mione. But if we don’t want to hide or be on the run, we must be able to neutralise the pursuers without us getting trouble with the law.”

“Well, but we can defend ourselves even if we’re detained by the Aurors, can’t we?”

“Susan… did your aunt ever tell you about Fudge getting me a trial before the whole Wizengamot when I was fifteen? It was only because I genuinely tried to defend myself and my cousin who already knew about magic from a pair of Dementors. It got me tried like a Death Eater instead.”

The dining room plunges into total silence. Not even the sound of breathing is heard.

And then Odi – Tita’s brother – pops in, with a letter in his hand.

The silence is broken and turns into uneasy murmurs, with snapshots rising higher, as if everyone but Teal’c and I is busy with planning their urgent getaways.

My attention is not on my own getaway, though, neither on Teal’c’s, nor anyone else’s – for now. Because I’ve just read the words scrolled hurriedly on the small scrap of parchment and, with my heart sinking lower and lower, gradually understood them on each repetition.

Harry,
By the time you get this letter we are already taking the Portkey to my field assignment. Don’t go to Shell Cottage. It is a trap in a few ways. I already told Mum and Dad. Hopefully Neville can get George safely to you. Please keep him and yourself safe and thank you for everything.
Bill

I pass the letter on to George, afterwards, and watch as his face first pales then reddens, accompanied by widened eyes and a scowl, respectively.

“Wanna go stay with him?” I offer. – Bill told me where he and his family were going to be stationed at by Gringotts, and I think we all could go there until the figurative heat here in Great Britain has cooled down some, but I’m also aware of the added danger to Bill, Fleur and Victoire by openly associating with us while they’re essentially on the run. George is his brother, though, and only one person. It might be safe for the both of them if it’s only George that joins him.

But George’s shaking his head, now, with jaw clenched and eyes blazing, uncharacteristically, so I keep mum about my reasoning.

“Maybe we should make sure that the other Weasleys are safe?” Hermione ventures out timidly in the tenser silence that ensues, as the letter is passed from person to person at the dining table.

George shakes his head again, apparently still incapable of speaking. “Too risky. Too dangerous,” I rebut on his behalf. “We could send a few house-elves, but then everyone will wonder, and the house-elves will be forced to state that they are mine.”

“And Potter is the reason we are here,” Zabini pipes in helpefully.

I glare at them and point out dryly, “That statement could be taken in two opposite ways, you know.”

They smile beatifically, in response. “Clever, aren’t I?”

Damn. That look is so punchable.

Neville breaks in, with a small smile on his lips although his face remains tense and more serious than ever, before Hermione can huffingly break the byplay herself. “Maybe it’s time for us to take a world tour? Generations before our parents’ did that. Gran told me about her own adventure visiting Uagadou and its surrounding mountains after Hogwarts. She even took another one with Grandad after they’re married, to search and gather various samples of magical plants.”

“Ooh! We could go search for Crumpled-horn Snorkaks!” Luna exclaims right after, her face lighting up gleefully.

Hermione rolls her eyes. Before she can refute the statement yet again, though, Justin thankfully joins in, approving the plan. “Hiding in plain sight. I like it. We’re more vulnerable, too, if we’re away from each other. Well, sometimes I wish I didn’t know you better, Harry, I admit, but you made Milla so happy, and I think she’d welcome that if we’re to go with you round the world. I can help chip in for the expenses.”

George shrugs when I look meaningfully at him for his opinion. “Haven’t been in the Burrow for a while,” he admits. “Still living above the shop.” He is clearly reluctant to continue, but continue he does, further admitting that the shop reminds him too much about Fred and some time away from it could maybe help him get better about his twin’s absence.

“You could always bring a portable room with you to make new things, George,” Luna points out kindly. “Newt Scamander had a trunk full of habitats for various animals. I think I’ll do the same, if I’ve got the time and materials. Daddy gave me specifications for the trunk for my seventeenth birthday. The booklet was signed by Mister Scamander himself!”

Hermione shrugs resignedly when my inquiring gaze meet hers, while Susan points out sadly that the last war made her truly an orphan and homeless, as Bones Manor had been demolished by Fiendfyre before her aunt was murdered in the flat that she rented afterwards.

And the last one, Zabini, gives me a lopsided smile and a seated version of their weird bow-courtsy as a show of their approval.

I slump against the back of my chair, then, with a loud, resigned puff of breath. I’m unexpectedly but genuinely grateful that these people won’t leave me, although associating with me has plunged them into trouble already in various ways. But if they’re blatantly seen with me, let alone as close as they’re planning to do, they’ll be in even more danger!

“Go think on it carefully through the night, folks,” I advise us all, in the end. Then I leave the dining room altogether, beckoning Teal’c to follow.

“Are you going to return to Apophis?” I ask him carefully when we’re safely in his bedroom and seated on the edge of his bed.

“I should,” he answers just as carefully. The light in his eyes shows that he’s torn about the decision, though, rather unexpectedly.

“Do you know where your people are?” I reluctantly prod further. “Do you know how to reach them?”

“I do,” he confirms solemnly.

I take a deep breath, then let it out slowly. “Are you going to be safe with them? Not suspected of… things, and imprisoned or worse?”

“I should be.”

“All right,” I mutter. Then, in a louder voice, I continue, “Are you going to be able to keep our secrets against everyone, even Apophis?”

“If you could safeguard my mind, yes,” he nods.

I am taken aback. “What makes you think I can do that?”

He raises an eyebrow. “You conversed with me in my mind. I assumed you can do more than that.”

I huff and ruefully shake my head. “It was the first time I tried that,” I admit apologetically. “Before that, I could only guard my mind, passively.”

“Maybe, if you taught me how to guard my mind?” he prods back.

I regard him silently for a long moment, then admit that I have never taught anybody the arts of Occlumency. “You… don’t have the power, not like me and my friends,” I explain further. “I don’t know if you can do it, not if you will. It’s…. We begin by meditation, I suppose. You still have your thoughts, but you disregard them, gradually, till you’re swimming alone in peace. Then, when you can go to that state easily and hold it despite any interruptions, you begin to sure up the fringes of your mind. You can even place false or tweaked memories on the fringes as defence. At least that’s how I learnt it.”

He looks surprised.

A moment after, I got the reason why.

“My people – the Jaffa – do not really sleep, especially not after we receive the prim’ta – the larvae of the Goa’uld,” he says. “We enter into kel’no’reem as the larvae repair and renew our bodies. It sounds very similar to your meditation.”

“Ah.” I brighten up. “Shall we try it, then?”

He quirks a small smile at me. “Do you wish me gone so soon, Harry?”

I wince. “No!” I blurt out, horrified. “I’d like you to be here forever, actually. But you seemed to like your people, even if you don’t like Apophis, and they could be in danger if they return without you. Our world, too, and we don’t have any defence against Apophis and the like, too, not that I know.”

His smile widens a little and turns sad, no longer… teasing? He acknowledges my confession with a nod, in any case, then follows up with, “Might I request a favour from you for my people?”

I nod warily. But truth be told, by now, I would do almost anything for him, for the care he gave me and my wellbeing in our impromptu little hiking and camping today. I’ve even planned – however vaguely – to gain mastery in potions, of all things, so that there won’t be any other cases like his, so recently, in which no potions could help alleviate the agony and damages safely.

He hesitates, but then forges on, complete with straightening up while still sitting on the bed barely two feet away from me. “Your power is unknown in the wider galaxy,” he begins, cautiously. “You seem to be able to achieve feats that are unheard of, thus far. Your community possess similar powers to yours, as well, from what you told me.”

He pauses, then, seemingly to brace himself up, before continuing in a faster pace, almost hurried – or maybe it’s his version of speaking in a hurry. “There comes a time when a Jaffa can no longer receive a prim’ta to help to keep them alive. Sometimes, the Jaffa cannot have access to more prim’ta once the ones in theirs have matured, for one reason or another. And in a few cases, a prim’ta can be withdrawn from the Jaffa, as a form of punishment for the offender, and even also for his family.” His voice tightens noticeably on this part, and in the next second I am informed why: “My father was the First Prime of Chronos. He was bidden to lead the army in an impossible battle. They lost, as expected, and Chronos blamed my father for the failure. My father died slowly and agonisingly, with his body no longer supported by his prim’ta, while my mother and I must flee our home to Chulak – to Apophis’ territory – so that Chronos would not do the same to us. It was what made me do my best to become the First Prime of Apophis, one of Chronos’ most dangerous enemies.”

Tentatively, then more boldly, I lay my hand atop his fist, which is blutching a bunch of his blanket spasmodically. It’s an unpleasant reminder of the horrible, horrible time so recently, in which hand-squeezes and blinks and some expressions were his only means of communication, but it’s also comforting to me, somehow.

But then again, it shouldn’t be surprising, should it? He is here. He hasn’t gone distant after being healed. And he takes care to explain things to me, even though it clearly pains him.

So I try to help him along, by hazarding a likely guess: “You want me to find out if I can make the Jaffa no longer dependent on their prim’ta?”

“If you would,” he breathes.

I nod firmly. “I’ll do my best. We just need to figure out how to send them to me and where.” No need to think about it again. I don’t want anyone to die slowly and painfully, even if they’re my enemy. I don’t want to hear any other women and children threatened like that, either, or have to witness the men that they love die in such a way.

All emerging plans and what-ifs and other thoughts flee my mind, though, when Teal’c – the large, imposing, powerful man – slides to the floor and prostates himself at my feet, with his forehead glued to the floor.

I squawk, loudly, and flinch to my feet. “Teal’c! Why in the world do you do that for?!”

Well, he doesn’t budge, and doesn’t say anything, just heaving ragged breaths, so I kneel in front of him and do my best to lift him up by the shoulders.

A nearly impossible feat, that. He’s so heavy despite his recent ordeal!

But I’ve got magic with me, and the Featherweight Charm can be applied to living beings.

In short, I’ve got a huge, hulking man clutching me tight – nearly to the point of asphyxiation, in fact.

Oh. My.