Death and life
Chapter 16:
Eventually, Murtagh had decided to tell Harry about the event with the stone. When he saw him the next afternoon, he told of the strange power that the stone held, to show those who held it the ones they had loved and lost.
Harry now sat on the ground beside him, staring at the stone in his hands.
"So... So you turned it in your hand and it... It showed you Mum?" He asked.
Murtagh nodded.
"It must hold very powerful magic, to summon the dead. Though, she was little more than a ghost. I could not touch her, and she could not touch me."
Harry closed his eyes and clutched the stone tightly.
"Do you wish to use it?" Murtagh asked. "To speak to her?"
Harry was silent for a long time. Finally, he shook his head.
"Not now." He replied. "It's not that I don't want to. It's just... I... I would need some time to prepare... I have so much I want to say to her... Dad too..."
He put a hand on his son's shoulder.
"Take all the time you need." He said gently.
Harry sighed and opened his eyes.
"What should we do with this?"
Murtagh pondered this question for a few seconds.
"In the wrong hands, this could be dangerous." He began. "Much knowledge can be gained from the dead."
Harry nodded.
"But we can also gain knowledge from the dead." The younger man added. "I mean, it's thanks to Mum that we know we've destroyed pretty much half of Voldemort's soul."
Murtagh nodded.
"Yes, we could use this to gain knowledge." Murtagh agreed. "But it may drive whomever uses it mad with grief."
"So we could put it somewhere safe... In the academy, probably. Make sure no one gets it unless we absolutely need to use it." Harry suggested.
Murtagh thought about this, then nodded.
"Yes, this seems like a wise decision."
Harry handed the stone back to Murtagh and he put it in a small pouch. They then sat in silence for a long time. Finally, Harry sighed.
"It would be nice, to see them." He began wistfully. "There's so much I still don't know about them... It's just, so hard."
He sighed again.
"No one seems to understand, what it's like. I mean, they always go on about how I survived that night, what we won. But no one ever talks about what we lost, what I lost..."
He clenched his fist.
"The Wizarding World praises me for defeating Voldemort before I could even remember, but they seem to always forget that I lost my parents that night. That they sacrificed themselves to make it so I survived."
Murtagh put a hand on his shoulder.
"I've never even seen their graves." Harry continued. "I have been to Godric's Hollow, once, but I was a little busy going to see Sirius, and then I was even more distracted with learning about you... And..."
He sighed again. An idea then popped into Murtagh's head.
"How about we do that." He said.
Harry's head shot up.
"What?"
"Why do we not go visit them?" He continued.
Harry blinked in surprise.
"That... That would be nice." He began. "But when?"
"Whenever you want." Murtagh replied.
Harry was silent for a long time.
"How about on Halloween?" The younger man suggested. "It would be appropriate, seeing as they died on that day, and it's on a weekend, so I won't have to miss out on classes."
Murtagh nodded.
"That sounds reasonable, but I still feel as if you will be missed."
Harry frowned.
"Maybe... Maybe I could ask Professor McGonagall for permission. I mean, ever since the beginning of this term she seems to want to help me more, and she knew and cared about my parents. Maybe this will help her to be more sympathetic."
Murtagh nodded.
"Your Mother spoke very highly of her. Though she is strict, she still has a kind heart. Perhaps this could work."
"And if it doesn't," Harry began, grinning slightly. "We could always sneak out."
Murtagh laughed.
"Are you not afraid of getting into trouble?"
Harry's grin widened.
"Getting into trouble? Just sounds like a typical Halloween."
The next day, Harry nocked on Professor McGonagall's office door hesitantly.
"Enter."
Harry opened the door and went inside. Professor McGonagall was at her desk marking assignments, but she looked up when he came in.
"Mr Potter, how may I help you?" She asked.
"Well Professor," Harry began. "I was wondering if... Well, Halloween's coming up..."
Professor McGonagall raised an eyebrow.
"Yes, and?"
"And well," Harry continued, suddenly nervous. "Every year there's this big feast here, and this year's going to be extra important because of the whole Triwizard champion thing, but... But I don't really feel up to a big feast full of happy celebration and stuff..."
Professor McGonagall's lips narrowed.
"Are you saying that you wish to not attend the feast this year?"
"No, no." Harry said quickly. "It's just... Well... It's never felt exactly right, eating all that food and pretending to be happy to fit in with everybody else... Not that I have a problem with people being happy, believe me, I would love to have more joy in the world. It's just... My parents died on Halloween, and it's never felt right to celebrate the day that they died to protect me."
Professor McGonagall's face melted into an expression of sadness.
"I see." She said softly.
Harry nodded.
"I can still be at the feast, I understand how important it is. But... It's on a weekend, so the entire day is free. I just feel like I want... No, I need, to pay my respects to them..."
He sucked in a breath.
"Is it okay if I spend the day visiting where they are buried?"
McGonagall was silent for a long time. Finally she sighed.
"Yes, yes of course. I can see why you would wish to do such a thing. I could arrange for a member of staff to..."
Harry shook his head.
"No Professor." He said. "I need to do this, not me and a member of the staff."
McGonagall blinked.
"Are you suggesting that I allow you to leave the grounds unsupervised?"
Harry nodded.
"Please, I need to do this." He practically begged. "I'll be careful, and I won't cause any trouble or anything."
Professor McGonagall was once again silent.
"As long as you are back by the time of the feast," She began slowly.
Harry nodded.
"I will."
"Then I suppose I can allow it." She finished.
Harry smiled.
"Thank you."
Professor McGonagall nodded.
"If you feel as if this is something you need to do." She replied. "I shall arrange for a portkey that can take you there and back."
Harry nodded.
"Thank you." He repeated before leaving the Professor's office.
On October 30th, Harry sat at the Gryffindor table, observing the arrivals from the other schools, Beaubaxons and Durmstrang. The students from Beaubaxons seemed elegant, but also a bit stuck up, kind of like the elves from the Academy. The Durmstrang students, on the other hand, seemed very intimidating and formidable, kind of like the few urgals he had encountered at the Academy.
He found them all very interesting. He had had no idea other schools of magic had existed until this year, but in hindsight the idea that Hogwarts was the only school in the World, or even in Europe, was a bit ridiculous. He wondered if it could have been possible for him to have attend another school, besides Hogwarts. Yes, he would have not met the friends he had here, but he would like to know what a normal school year felt like.
As he examined the newcomers, he sensed something strange from one of the Beaubaxons students. A girl with long blond hair, who was attracting the attention of pretty much every single male student, and even some of the females. Harry could feel the allure, but he tried to focus on something else. He knew it had to be some sort of magical mind trick, but, unfortunately, he and his Father were still having little success in constructing affective mental barriers. It was rather annoying.
When all the plates were clear, Dumbledore stood to address the hall.
"The moment has come," Dumbledore said, a little too cheerfully for Harry's taste. It wasn't that he didn't like people being happy, it was just that Dumbledore's attitude was beginning to really get on his nerves. "The Triwizard Tournament is about to start. I would like to say a few words of explanation before we bring in the casket, just to clarify the procedure which we will be following this year. But first, let me introduce, for those who do not know them, Mr Bartemius Crouch, Head of the Department of International Magical Co-operation, and Mr Ludo Bagman, Head of the Department of Magical Games and Sports."
Crouch. Harry remembered that name. He was the one who mistreated his house-elf so much that Hermione now bore a terrible grudge against him.
Dumbledore proceeded to explain the role of these ministry officials as fellow judges of this tournament, as well as the heads of the three schools. And then, Dumbledore revealed the impartial judge.
A cup with blue fire burning in it.
"Anybody wishing to submit themselves as champion must write their name and school clearly upon a slip of parchment, and drop it into the goblet," Dumbledore said. "Aspiring champions have twenty-four hours in which to put their names forwards. Tomorrow night, Hallowe'en, the goblet will return the names of the three it has judged most worthy to represent their schools. The goblet will be placed in the entrance hall tonight, where it will be freely accessible to all those wishing to compete. To ensure that no underage student yields to temptation, I will be drawing an Age Line around the Goblet of Fire once it has been placed in the entrance hall. Nobody under the age of seventeen will be able to cross this line."
Harry instantly thought of several ways an underage student could enter their name. They could get an older student to put it in for them. They could use a levitation charm. Hell, they could make their parchment into a paper airplane and throw it in from the other side of the line. In conclusion, this was far from a foolproof plan.
Harry was now far more nervous of the prospect of him being entered into the tournament. He decided to calm himself by thinking about what he and his Father had planned for the next day.
Early the next morning, Harry met his Father and their dragons just outside of the gates leading out of Hogwarts. He had just retrieved the portkey from Professor McGonagall, a very old looking boot.
"Is this big enough for all four of us?" He asked.
Murtagh nodded.
"Thorn and Colaen should only have to put a talon each on it."
Harry looked at his dragon. She had hit quite the growth spurt in the last almost two months. She was now larger than a horse.
[Are you ready for this?]
She asked him.
[Yeah, I've been ready for this for ages.]
Harry replied.
[I am here for you.]
[Thanks.]
He then turned to his Father, who he now noticed was holding a large bag.
"Hey, what do you have there?" He asked, gesturing to the bag.
"Just some things to take to Godric's hollow." Murtagh replied.
"Like what?" Harry asked curiously.
Murtagh put the bag down and untied it. Then, from within it he drew a bouquet of red roses and white lilies.
"For their graves." He explained.
Harry nodded.
Murtagh put the flowers away and then drew out... No way.
"Is that...?" He began.
Murtagh smiled.
"Yes, it is a saddle for Colaen. I have been working on it all month. It is enchanted to grow with her."
Harry blinked.
"But why?"
"Because, I believe Colaen is ready to fly with you riding her."
Harry could feel both his own excitement and his dragon's.
"Really?" He asked.
"Really." Murtagh replied. "I thought that the two of you could try flying after... When you feel ready... Just to lighten up the mood."
Harry smiled widely. Ever since Colaen had hatched for him, he had been excited for when he could finally fly with her. He already loved flying, but could hardly imagine what it must be like, sawing through the sky on the back of his own dragon.
His excitement was greatly shared by his hyperactive dragon. She was currently jumping up and down, her wings flapping.
[Yah, yah, yah...]
Harry chuckled.
[Okay, okay, calm down.]
[I can't help it.]
Colaen replied.
[I've done all of Thorn's wing exercises, and I've even done some low circuits around the clearing, but now I'm going to actually fly with you.]
[Okay, yeah, I know, it's really exciting.]
Harry replied.
[But we have to go soon.]
Colaen finally stopped jumping around and did the dragon equivalent to a pout.
[Oh, fine.]
Harry chuckled and held out the portkey.
"Shall we?"
His Father put his hand on the boot, and the two dragons somehow managed to place a talon each on it. Harry then said the words to activate it.
"Godric's Hollow."
Instantly, he felt the strange sensation of being pulled via a hook in his navel.
They all landed in a heap. Thankfully, Thorn did not land on anyone.
The two dragons flapped their wings irritably, and he and his Father stumbled to their feet.
[I feel weird.]
Colaen said.
[Yeah, me too.]
Harry replied.
[Do we seriously have to go back that way?.]
[Unfortunately.]
Murtagh cleared his throat.
"Shall we go, or do you..."
"Let's go." Harry replied quickly.
"Are you sure you are ready?" Murtagh asked.
Harry nodded.
"How about you?"
Murtagh closed his eyes and sighed.
"Yes."
Murtagh grabbed the portkey and put it in his bag. Then, they hid Thorn and Colaen under camouflage, before they began to walk through the streets of Godric's hollow.
They soon came to the cemetery, where his Mum and Dad had been buried. His Father put a hand on the gate. Though he did well to hide it, Harry could see the man was shaking. He couldn't blame him. He too, was nervous. He put his hand on his Father's.
"We can do this." He said quietly.
Murtagh nodded, smiling appreciatively. Together, they opened the gate and stepped in.
They passed through row after row of tombstones, before they finally reached what they were looking for.
They were made out of white marble, shining brightly in the sunlight. The words were so clear that they didn't need to stand too closely to be able to read them. However, both still walked closer and knelt before the tombstones. Harry brushed his fingers over the words engraved upon the marble while he read them.
James Potter, born 27 March 1960, died 31 October 1981
Lily Evans, born 30 January 1960, died 31 October 1981
The last enemy that shall be destroyed is death.
Harry blinked. Then, he blinked once again.
"The last enemy that shall be destroyed is death?" He said in disbelief.
His father brushed his fingers against the words.
"Many people think of death as an enemy." The man said quietly. "It is something that could come at any moment, an unstoppable force, a lurking shadow that is inescapable, even from the strongest of beings."
"I don't think of death as an enemy." Harry said in almost a whisper. "Death is neither good nor evil. It's just a part of life. Yeah, sometimes it can be scary, but sometimes... Sometimes death can be good. Sometimes, death can mean the end to pain. Pain is much worse than death."
His Father wrapped an arm around him.
"Sometimes, death can be what sets you free." The man added gently. "But you should never look to it as an answer. Once you are dead, that's it, you can never go back. But life, life is a chance for things to improve."
Harry nodded.
"I know that now."
His Father squeezed him tightly at this last sentence.
"I hope you do not feel such a way now."
He shook his head.
"No. Now, I have something else to help me with the pain."
Murtagh held his son tightly. It was like a stab to his heart, to hear his own child speak such words. He remembered, back when he was a slave to Galbatorix, he had contemplated the freedom of death several times. The only thing that held him back was Thorn.
And now, he was thankful he had lived, for then he would never have met Lily, and Harry would never have been born. Life was truly a funny thing.
"Did you ever..." He began hesitantly. "I mean... Have you..."
Harry nodded.
"Back at the Dursleys, when I was alone in my cupboard and feeling as if no one would ever love me."
He looked straight into Murtagh's eyes.
"But I'm glad I lived."
Murtagh nodded, wrapping his other arm around his son.
"I am glad you lived as well."
The two knelt there in their embrace for a long time. Finally, they parted and Murtagh picked up his bag. He then drew out the flowers he had brought and laid them on the graves.
"Do you want to say something?" He offered Harry.
The younger man nodded hesitantly. He cleared his throat.
"Hey Mum, Dad." He began. "I... I don't know what to say. Sorry it took me so long to get here."
He laughed nervously.
"Dumbledore's off his rocker. He's started up this death tournament, and I'm afraid of getting put into it against my will because things like that happen to me every year."
Murtagh then heard Harry's breath catch in his throat.
"I I wish you were here. I wish I could have a normal life, or at least as normal as a wizard Dragon Rider can have a life."
He sighed.
"But... Thank you, for giving me a chance to live. I'm sorry you died. I guess that while this may not be the life you wanted for me... I... I guess any life is better than no life... I just wish you were in it..."
He trailed off. Murtagh squeezed his shoulder. He then cleared his throat and began.
"Hello Lily." He breathed out. "Hello James. I... I am sorry I was such an idiot and didn't come back sooner. I am sorry I did not try to kill Voldemort back then... Back before you..."
He coughed awkwardly.
"What I am trying to say is, I am sorry that you are both dead, and that you did not get a chance to live the lives you deserved. But I also wish to thank you. James, you died protecting a child that was not even your own blood, and I... I am thankful. I hope that you have found peace. And Lily... I was in a very dark place when... When you found me and broke through all of the confusion in my mind. You saved me, and gave me far more love than I ever deserved. Words can not even begin to describe how thankful I am for the day I met you."
He sucked in a breath, now no longer capable of speaking. He could feel tears welling in his eyes, and he did not try to stop them.
He and Harry knelt there in silence for a long time. Finally, Harry turned to him.
"Do you... Errr... Do you want to go and see the old house?" He asked hesitantly. "The house we were living in before Voldemort... Just to errr... Have a look at some of their things. I mean, I doubt they would have just wanted their stuff lying around. And errr... I would like to get a better idea of what they were like."
Murtagh thought over this for a long time. But finally, he nodded.
"Alright."
At first glance, it looked like every other house. It was only after stepping over the low fence, that the true wreckage of the small cottage was revealed to him. It was in ruin, half of the upper floor completely blown off.
Harry led him through the old worn down door, down the hallway and up the creaking stairs. He followed his son to a room on the second floor.
"This was where Mum slept." He explained. "I've already seen it, but if you want to go in..."
He glanced at him.
"Do you want me to come with you, or do you want some privacy?"
"May I do this on my own?" Murtagh requested.
Harry nodded.
"I'm going to do some exploring. I didn't have the opportunity to do so last time, so..."
He trailed off, before turning and leaving Murtagh in the doorway of Lily's last bedroom.
With shaking hands, he grasped the doorknob and opened the creaking door.
Every last inch of the room reminded him of her. The simplicity of the decoration, the bedsheets, even the half-open wardrobe. He walked over to the wardrobe and opened it fully. He brushed his fingers along the clothes, remembering how they had felt, how they had looked on her.
He wondered what they had dressed her in, when they buried her.
He shook his head. He then noticed a cardboard box in the bottom of the wardrobe. He pulled it out and placed it upon the bed before opening it. It felt kind of strange, going through her belongings, but he remembered this box. She would put the things she treasured most in storage boxes like these, for safe keeping, as she always said when asked.
This box contained old photo albums, letters, even a scale that had fallen off of Thorn, that the dragon said she could keep.
And then he found it.
It was an old record. She had bought it the day after they had gone out dancing together. He remembered the music, the feeling of dancing with her, her body close to his as they danced.
He rummaged through the box some more and found the record player. There was not enough magic in the air to negatively mess with the technology, so it should work properly. He dusted it off before placing the record in it. He turned it on. After a few seconds of spluttering, it began playing the song he had just been thinking of.
Wise men say,
Only fools rush in,
But I can't help falling in love with you...
He began to sway to the music, his lips moving of their own accord.
He remembered feeling her body so close to his. Her arms around him and his arms around her. The song had just seemed so fitting. Their love had come so fast, and he was unable to stop it.
Shall I stay?
Would it be a sin?
If I can't help falling in love with you...
He had tried to fight the feelings. He knew that she deserved far better than him.
But love was a hard force to fight.
Like a river flows,
Surely to the see,
Darling so it goes,
Some things are meant to be,
Perhaps it was meant to happen. Perhaps he was meant to find her, to fall in love with her.
He knew that it should have been wrong, a pure soul like hers and a tainted soul like his. But it just felt so right.
Take my hand,
Take my whole life too,
For I can't help falling in love with you...
He had loved her, had trusted her, more than he had ever done so with anyone. And she had trusted him in return. She had trusted him, loved him, even after all that he had done. And for that, he loved her. Her kindness, her strong heart, her capacity for forgiveness.
Like a river flows,
Surely to the see,
Darling so it goes,
Some things are meant to be,
Take my hand,
Take my whole life too,
For I can't help falling in love with you,
For I can't help falling in love with you...
As the song ended, Murtagh could hear what appeared to be clapping echoing through the room. He opened his eyes, though he did not remember closing them, and looked up to see Harry standing in the doorway.
"Wow, I didn't know you could sing." The younger man commented.
Murtagh's lips twitched in a sad smile.
"Your Mother and I once danced to this song." He said wistfully. "The very next day she bought this record to remind herself of that day."
"It's really nice." Harry said. "You sounded really good."
"Thank you." Murtagh replied.
They both stood in silence for a long time. Finally, Murtagh cleared his throat.
"Do you wish to try flying with Colaen now?"
Harry's expression immediately brightened.
"Yeah, sure."
He then chuckled.
"Colaen wants to try it too."
Murtagh chuckled as they left the house, and he could hear Thorn grumbling about hyperactive hatchlings.
They had gone a few kilometres out of Godric's Hollow before dropping the camouflage on Thorn and Colaen. His Father had helped him strap the saddle onto Colaen's back. He was now sitting on her back for the first time, both nervous and excited. They were just finishing adjusting the straps tying his legs to the saddle. When that was done, his Father stepped back.
"Are you ready?" He asked.
[Colaen, are you ready?]
[I've been ready all day, if not longer.]
[Right.]
"We're ready." Harry replied out loud.
Murtagh sucked in a nervous breath.
"Do not fly too high, do not go into any cloud banks, and whatever you do, please do not attempt any fancy stunts. This is supposed to be a basic flight for the two of you to get used to each other."
Harry nodded.
"Alright." His Father began. "Take off in three... Two..."
Just as Murtagh said "One", Colaen took off. At first it seemed a bit wobbly, but then, they were in the air. Harry could feel the wind whipping at his face, his hair being blown all over the place.
He then sucked in a breath as he felt a tidal wave of emotions coming from Colaen.
He had flown before. He had been on a broom, and Buckbeak, and even Thorn. But, as much as he had loved the experience, it was nothing compared to this.
He could feel Colaen's emotions as much as his own. Both of them felt free, alive, exhilarated. At times he could not figure out where one's feelings began and the other's ended. But he did not care.
He could feel his blood pumping through his veins, he could feel the chill of the wind. He could feel his dragon beneath him, a large mass of scales and flesh, flapping her elegant wings and gliding gracefully, if a little clumsily, through the skies. Up here, there was nothing that could bring him down. All thoughts of what could have been, and of death tournaments, left his mind like leaves in the wind.
Up here, he had his dragon, his partner of heart and mind. Up here, he was free. Up here, he was alive.