A Lesson in Planning and Responsibility
Grimmauld Place no. 12, 27th December 2003
“Fawkes?”
I freeze at my desk, in the middle of – at last – planning out what to do with all the empty properties that have been passed over to me by various means; something that Andy didn’t manage to push me to do till the day she… joined her husband and daughter. I’ve just escaped Black’s chatter, stories and pestering by Portkeying to Grimmauld. And now a ball of ffire has just materialised over the desk, nearly burning my sheave of notes, and doesn’t have the decency to greet me first or at least wait till it looks more like a bird than a mini sun before berating me.
“Shouldn’t you be with Teal’c?” I grump back when the damned bird pauses in the middle of his tirade. Well, it’s our plan, at least: Fawkes will go with Teal’c and shaddow the latter invisibly – as in staying in the In-between that he said phoenixes use to travel or to wait – until he needs to carry Teal’c’s precious cargo of rescued Jaffa to me. I also begged him to protect Teal’c as much as he could without jeopardising himself or Teal’c even more… and now he’s here, not with his protectee.
`Well, I was!` the bird shouts exasperatedly, in my head. I wince and glare at him. But he continues before I can launch my own vicious complaint: `I have been trying to reach you ten times. Do you know how tiring it is to travel back and forth between star systems? Be glad that I did not have to travel between galaxies or I would have pecked your eyes out – bonded or no bonded!`
I flinch back. “But I was available all the time!”
`You were in a space warded against all beings, including phoenixes!`
“Oh. The island,” I mumble, slumping. “Black Island. Apparently it’s really just me who can go there.”
Fawkes squawks, surprised… and intrigued. I snort, rescue my notes and put them in a satchel I’ve just transfigured from my well-abused pen, then rise reluctantly to my feet.
Before I can beckon him to me to ride the Portkey along to Black Island, though, I notice the tiny wooden block clutched in one of his talons. “Is that…. Are the Jaffa in there?” I breathe, slumping back into my chair. Because it’s one of our plans to retrieve the people Teal’c means us to help, too: Teal’c will store the Jaffa that he’d like to rescue, after they’ve been put into stasis with the stasis disks that Hermione made and produced, in the shrinkable portable-flat trunk which I converted into a series of space-efficient dorm rooms, and he will send the trunk to me only if it’s full.
And… the still-grumpy bird bobs his head. `It took some time for us to find who needed to be rescued and those who wouldn’t jeopardise you and your people. I did most of the work, naturally.`
“Naturally,” I mutter, while prying the miniaturised trunk from his talon.
And… his other talon digs into my skin. “Ow! Stop it, bird!”
`Most of the Jaffa that fit the criteria of the rescue are faithful to the Goa’uld that command them, even if the Goa’uld only hold the position of underlings to Apophis, and even if they are already on the brink of death,` he continues blithely, ignoring my own squawk, though his tone is more serious than I would imagine. `Teal’c wanted me to save them all and find a way to break their blind loyalty to those they regard as gods once they are here. I said no. I picked the most neutral ones, and the most in need.`
`By the way,` he adds dryly, `you should send twice the load of the stasis disks when I return to Teal’c. He is determined to save as many as he can when he can spend some time on his homeworld. By this time next year, Earth might as well be flooded with Jaffa refugees from Chulak and elsewhere….`
“Were there that many Jaffa who couldn’t carry prim’ta anymore?” I stare at him, truly puzzled. “How many are the Jaffa under Apophis, anyway? Or did you branch out to those under different Goa’uld? Teal’c never told me….”
He shakes himself from head to tail. `Many,` he admits, sounding concerned. `Hundreds of thousands, at least, under Apophis alone, from what I glimpsed. Spanning a few hundreds of star systems. They are all slaves who believe in their masters and torturers. Their families, as well. And this includes dying slowly from lack of prim’ta for any reason. It is fortunate that there are not so many Jaffa who need an alternative for the lack of a prim’ta. But still, this could have been prevented a long time ago, before it got this big. I wish the Council would pay attention to the little details, sometimes, instead of just getting us to police or roam the whole universe.`
“The Council?” I’m made even more baffled… and definitely worried.
He shakes his tail at me. `Not now, Harry. Maybe later, if we have time. Have you come up with a way to replace the prim’ta dependence with something far healthier and much more independent? And what about the stasis disks?`
I shake my head dejectedly, while avoiding looking at even his shadow.
`You have been sulking, haven’t you?` he sighs.
I shake my head again. – Well, not sulking indeed. I just… missed Teal’c. And Black already lectured me about not appreciating the loved ones that I’ve already got here, only pining for one who is far away, and I needn’t any more lecture, especially from someone who has also been absent all this time.
Sadly, Fawkes still buffets me with one wing and lectures me.
Black Island, 27th December 2003
And Fawkes still lectures me even after I have deposited him and the still-miniaturised trunk on the island, before introducing him to Black – the first of the House of Black, an African warrior mage, born and growing into adulthood without a name but the appelation based on his colouring that he shared with many, enslaved to Ra the Goa’uld for much of his life, saviour of Arga, Egeria and a few other breeding -capable children of Ra that Ra had been hunting and eating to kull the possible threats they posed, an entity who has been living in his own ring since then.
I leave them to exchange… whatever they’re exchanging so excitedly, respectively in rumbling words and chirps, while also respectively seated and perched on the grass in front of the hut under the twilit sky of Black Island.
Now, I’m going to rectify a few problems.
Eh. There’s no more potant motivation than being lectured endlessly by a fire-generating bird and a semi-living former slave who founded the most snooty House that I’ve ever known….
O-O-O-O
Well, unfortunately, I have to report bad news to both Fawkes and Black: None of my friends remembered to try to come up with something for the Jaffa’s compromised immune system with the lack of a prim’ta, while I myself worked only on my potions mastery and not anything else all this time.
`Teal’c would consider this a massive breech of trust, Harry,` Fawkes observes at the end of my confession.
I wince. “No need to tell me that,” I grouse half-heartedly, hunching over myself. – Teal’c cried with relief because he believed that I could help him, that I would do my best to help him, and I forgot. He should’ve made me vow to help him, like I made Zabini do, twice, when I asked them to help him….
But… Zabini…. There might be something that we can do, Zabini and I, if what we did with Teal’c is anything to go by. After all, we had to repair nearly half of his entire body. Writing over the compromised immune system is entirely different, I know; more thorough and more delicate, for one; but the Song seemed to be quite versatile and intuitive….
“The magic of this island will help boost you for the healing,” Black points out when I tell him and Fawkes my idea. “However, you must lead the ritual, because the magic will obey only you. Before that, you must consciously give consent for the specific Goa’uld to be here, or your patients will not survive after you have retrieved them from that little box. Your tacit permission – and the fact that the box was on your person, then – saved the whole shipment from incineration, once the Portkey touched the protection around this island, but the leeway stops once they touch anything but the inside of the box. With your specific words of welcome…. – Harry?”
I straightened up with a gasp on the word “insineration,” and now I’m staring at him, goggle-eyed and so, so, so nauseated.
I nearly killed all the Jaffa that Teal’c has entrusted to me from sheer carelessness. – I knew that there’s protection round this island, extending up and below, both from my own senses and what the ring passed on to me when I first came here. I could have asked Black about the details of the protection, since my study of wards and warding has been set aside all too often all these months, and he is a part of this island, anyway. But I didn’t. And who knows how many Jaffa could have been burnt alive while they’re in stasis… or cooked alive slowly, if the stasis state prevented them from direct physical harm.
I didn’t even ask Fawkes how many he and Teal’c managed to stuff into this box.
Damn you, Harry Potter.
Fawkes squawks when I rush to my feet and stumble over him. Black cries out in concern when I run away blindly, tripping on my own feet. But I must go, go, go, go away.
Ha. I don’t even manage to reach the treeline before I double over and throw up hard. Loud sobs that may be my own ring in the sudden silence of the nightly noise, but I can’t care less about it presently.
I nearly caused who knows how many people to die slowly and agonisingly, instead of helping them to avoid that very fate.
I deserve more than some self-perpetrated public humiliation.
O-O-O-O
“You are young still, and moorless. Andromeda Black did her best to prepare you, from what I glimpsed in your mind, but the both of you were distracted with many other concerns. Now that you know the possible consequence of carelessness, you should be able to take better precautions. It does not mean that you will never be able to enjoy life or plan some spontaneous events, however. The little things in life are what keep you surviving to reach a better place, sometimes. Now let me tell you about the life of a slave boy who never knew who were his parents, but ended up claiming an island for himself and his family….”
Black drones on and on and on in his deep, rumbling voice. – He asked me what was wrong, what I was thinking, and listened as I blubbered. And he has me on his lap and in his arms, now, rocked back and forth like a little child while my tears and snot bathe his bare chest, and while he narrates the ups and downs of his own life for the second time in our acquaintanceship. Fawkes sings calmingly in the background, as he perches on Black’s head, and occasionally swipes the tip of a wing gently over my own head.
I feel quite embarrassed of my own conduct, as I begin to be more aware of where I am and what I am doing, with my tears and emotions gradually wrung dry.
“You needed to ‘let go’ sometimes, especially when you are with your trusted people and in a safe environment. You tried to do too many things, and kept all the thoughts and emotions inside, distracting yourself in the end,” Black chides when I open my mouth once more after who knows how long crying like a baby. “I told you, you are safe here. Except, if you do not trust Fawkes, after all?”
I gurgle a short laugh, which unexpectedly wring some more leakage. “He said he’d peck my eyes out if I’m unreachable, next time,” I confide in a croaky whisper.
His dark eyes twinkle with laughter, although he warns me solemnly to be careful of what and whom I am bringing to the island, especially if I wish to “let them loose” here.
“Now, no more talk of lordly plans, child, and let us get you to bed,” he chides me once more when I’m about to respond, continuing the brainstorming session that I interrupted. Then, before I can deny being tired or escape his embrace, I suddenly find myself inside the hut and on the divan, with him still cradling me close and Fawkes still perched on his head.
“You need a clear head and a clear heart to decide well, and sleep will clear everything for you,” he lectures while releasing me from his arms and pushing me gently to lie down. “So sleep, stubborn one. Fawkes and I shall guard your dreams.”
I slip into oblivion faster than I would have thought, despite my reluctance. And Black keeps his promise, apparently, for I am visited by no dreams at all.