Harry was determined to discover what sort of magic could thwart a Legilimagus. This was personal, even doubly so, for the spell had not only challenged Harry's greatest strength, it had done so at his godfather's expense. Despite the fact that homework seemed to be at an all-time high, Harry spent every spare minute in the library, poring over Dark texts in the Restricted Section.
Krum proved extremely helpful in this effort. He'd seen such books before and knew quite a few useful spells to persuade them to stop screaming, flipping their pages, or slamming themselves shut on careless fingers. Harry really learned to appreciate him, however, when a seemingly well-behaved text suddenly turned on him after his bodyguard left to use the bathroom. By the time Viktor returned, Harry was hiding under the table, his hands covered with paper cuts. "It's not funny!" Harry had snarled from between the chair legs. Viktor agreed that it wasn't, but laughed anyway.
Despite the fact that Ron still hadn't fully welcomed Percy back into the Weasley fold, he felt a proprietory relationship over his brother. He and Fred and George had no qualms about making the prat miserable, but they guarded that privilege jealously and were not about to share it with some treasonous fink in the Ministry. Ron sat alongside Harry in the Restricted Section night after night, going through old Prophets and public records, making a chart of Ministry employees, their dates of service, duties, and promotions, all on a huge length of parchment.
Hermione, meanwhile, was delighted to have her pick of extra subjects to research. She dug out ancient books under thick blankets of dust regarding Avallocian magic, borrowed advanced texts on the Healing Arts from the library at St. Mungo's, and finally located a single chapter about the "Realm of Dreams," which she believed was the place where Sirius had been trapped. The latter came to her by accident. It had been written by an ancient Greek wizard, and Professor Rumil invited her to translate it for an extra credit project in Ancient Runes. Ron had teased her mercilessly about her perceived need to improve her scores, but when she read aloud the description of an ancient crumbling archway with a veil, he changed his tune.
"That's brill, Hermione! What else?" said Ron.
"How should I know?" she snapped. "It took me twenty minutes only to get that paragraph done!" She swatted him away from peeking over her shoulder. "Go track down some more Ministry janitors and let me keep working."
Ron slouched back into his chair at Harry's table. Viktor, a native speaker of a Cyrillic-alphabet language, was helping Hermione identify the handwritten Greek letters of the text. Harry looked up from his Cogitatio Malificus, to find Ron watching them with a forlorn expression.
"Harry," he said quietly, "I think I've really cocked up."
Harry closed his book. Krum's hand rested candidly on Hermione's back as they leaned over the yellowed pages. Her eyes sparkled in a warm, automatic way whenever their gaze met, even though their work went on, uninterrupted. She glanced back at Harry once, enough for him to make a connection to her outermost thoughts. Though it smacked unpleasantly of voyeurism, he read her effortlessly and told Ron, "She's happy, you know. She loves sitting here with all of us. She gets a lot of grief for being swotty and smart, mostly from the other girls. Sometimes they make her wish she were just a dumb bird, so she could fit in better. You and I have always made her feel like she's great just the way she is. She loves us for that."
Ron slumped a little further. "That's just grand. So how does he fit in?"
It didn't require Legilimency to see that her feelings for Viktor went beyond mere companionship. Harry shrugged sadly. "He does too. But he didn't grow up with her--he's not more like a brother than a boyfriend."
"And he didn't make a bloody fool out of himself snogging with Lavender Brown last year." Ron leaned back in his chair, rubbing his eyes. "Mother of Merlin, Harry, what was I thinking?"
It wouldn't really do much good to point out that most of Ron's friends had wondered the same thing at the time. "I don't know, Ron. I couldn't read minds back then," Harry noted with a weak grin. "But I don't think it matters. I saw it coming when he showed up at the wedding. I mean, LOOK at them. Is your idea of a cozy evening sitting in the library with an Ancient Runes text? Theirs is. You know, to her, the least interesting thing about Viktor is the fact that he plays Quidditch!"
Ron still looked sorrowful, but he raised his brows a little. "She's barmy," he noted.
"Exactly, mate," said Harry. "There's things you two will never see eye-to-eye on. She's a great friend. Try to just hang onto that, and let go the rest."
Ron gazed at the couple a little longer, then glared at Harry. "Hark at you! You sound like my mum or something!"
Harry chuckled. "Yeah. I've got to quit lurking in other peoples' heads."
"S'truth," murmured Ron, pretending to straighten his hair as he wiped away a tear.
Between classes and research, time flew by for the trio. It seemed that the Christmas trees arrived in the Great Hall far too early, but a glance at the calendar proved that it was, in fact, nearly time for the holidays. Ron's parchment of Ministry employees grew to eight feet in length, but other than that, there was little to show for all their extra efforts. The Realm of Dreams was as mysterious when it was first discovered as it was currently, and even the Darkest texts from the creepiest shelves of the library described no spells that could block a Legilimagus.
"What ever happened to 'know your enemy'?" grumbled Harry bitterly. They were climbing the stairs to Gryffindor Tower on a very late Wednesday night of their last week of classes.
Yawning, Hermione responded, "It is a bit frustrating, isn't it? We clearly need more information if we're to help Sirius."
The portrait they were passing gave them a suspicious glare and Harry made a small slashing motion with his hand until they were out of earshot. Ron whispered, "The portraits, however, can do without," and Hermione looked abashed.
"I can check Durmstrang library during holidays," said Viktor. "Librarian there is friend of mine; I give him free passes to home games."
"Oh!" chirped Hermione. "Are you and Harry going to Bulgaria for the break?" Harry was startled; this was news to him.
"No. Just me. Lupin tells me my services are not needed during holidays."
"Not needed?" Harry nearly groaned aloud. If Viktor was being dismissed from bodyguard duty, Remus must have something even worse in mind.
Seeing his long face, Hermione waved a dismissive hand. "Oh, you'll be at Headquarters for the holidays; maybe Snuffles will keep an eye on you."
Ron snorted so loudly that the marble stairs rang with echoes. "Oi! That's worse than sending Fred and George to mind that no one spikes the punch."
The term finally drew to a close, and with the end of the Yule Feast, Harry and Ron set to packing for the holidays. As prefects, Ron and Hermione would take the Hogwarts Express back to London, but Harry and Viktor planned to Apparate first thing in the morning. Ron offered to bring Harry's trunk on the train, which made him chuckle heartily. "Sure, mate," he said, knowing full well that Ron did this not out of mere generosity, but in hopes of finding his Christmas present early. No such luck, Harry thought with a smirk; he hadn't had time to shop. He crossed his fingers in hopes that he could escape Remus for a quick trip to Diagon Alley.
Harry wondered if he needn't bother with the trunk, for between growing and getting caught in various fires, he'd lost nearly all of his clothing during the term. He stared at the small heap of books and robes that still fit, and was suddenly struck with inspiration. Digging around under the bed, he found the sack where he'd stuffed the things Kreacher had hoarded in his final nest. He doubted Sirius was particularly attached to any of them, but some might be valuable. And since no one had seen that thief Mundungus Fletcher since Dumbledore's death, they might as well be stored in their original home.
It snowed that night, and though the sky was heavy and gray, the clean, fresh snow gave the grounds an atmosphere of Yuletide cheer. Harry and Viktor huddled in the chilly carriages with the rest of the students for the trip to Hogsmeade Station, Harry's arms poking out of the sleeves of his coat nearly to the elbow. He'd Charmed it twice to fit before they left the Great Hall, but the minute he stopped concentrating, the blasted thing would revert to its native size. Ron noted sagely that it was a good thing his pants didn't need adjusting, and Harry decided he'd better count his blessings.
Great puffs of steam from the train engine enshrouded the station. There was little need to direct the young passengers on board; all were eager to return home for presents and parties. Looking up, Harry spotted the first pair of escorts high above the tracks on their brooms. At least one Auror from the Ministry and one sniper from the Order would be guarding the train throughout its journey. It didn't seem like enough, but then again, any attacker would also have to contend with the likes of Ron, Hermione, and the original Dumbledore's Army. They'll be fine, thought Harry, and he smiled, for in his heart, he knew they would.
When the train finally pulled out with an enormous rush of noise and steam, Harry turned to Viktor, thinking he'd propose a quick trip to the Three Broomsticks. To his surprise, Ondossi stood at the front of the platform, just outside the station. She'd been rather conscientiously avoiding him since that night after the Quidditch match, although whenever he caught her offguard, he'd glimpse a thrill of shy curiosity before she could close her mind to him. It had become a game, and a pleasant one at that, and her presence at the platform brought a flush of warmth to his chest.
"Good morning, Professor," he said with a warm smile. To his delight, he learned in a flash of comprehension that she found it both alluring and frustrating--another thrill. Both smirked somewhat insolently at one another, leaving poor Krum to glance skeptically back and forth between them.
"You two are up to something," he growled matter-of-factly.
She glared at Viktor without denying or affirming his comment. "I'm just here to relieve you, красив," she said. To Harry's surprise, Viktor nodded in agreement and turned to shake hands.
"You're leaving?"
"Да," said Krum. "I vill return after New Year. You are Professor's charge now, Harry."
"Yep, it's jes' you 'n me, pardner," Ondossi drawled. "The werewolf arranged everything last week. Krum's getting a vacation, but you're not; we'll be doing some intensive Legilimency lessons." She pushed off the wall where she was leaning and strolled over, taking Viktor's proffered arm. "Whenever you're ready, gentlemen; first stop, Ministry of Magic."
"So glad I had a say in the matter," Harry groused, but couldn't hide his grin. There were two loud cracks of Disapparation, and the platform was empty once again.
Arthur Weasley stood waiting for them in the Atrium. He asked Ondossi to accompany him for a moment, leaving Harry and Krum to say their farewells.
"Have good holiday," said Viktor, giving Harry a quick, rough hug.
"You too. Don't spend too much time in the Library."
Viktor grinned. "Is not possible, Harry." He stepped back and Disapparated with a loud crack.
Ondossi reappeared shortly afterward bearing a dazed expression and a sack with the Gringotts logo stamped on the side. Harry eyed it curiously. She thrust it into his hands; it was heavy, and it clanked with the quick movement. "What's this, then?"
"I don't believe it," she said. "I got paid."
"From Hogwarts?"
"Yeah," she said, obviously too stunned to point out that there weren't any other likely reasons she'd receive a bag of Galleons. "Mr. Weasley said he wanted to clear up the confusion his predecessor made regarding my position here. He said I was an ambassador and educator and was of course entitled to my salary, plus a stipend for arriving in August to instruct you." She stopped in her tracks. "There must be a hundred Galleons in here."
Harry nodded, amused by her wide-eyed disbelief. "I reckon a bit more than that. Dobby's paid ten Galleons a week just to do scutwork."
"Are you joshing me?" She didn't wait for an answer,and her voice rose to a tremulous squeak. "Do you know what this means?"
Harry had been around Tura long enough to know it could mean practically anything. "What?"
"We're going SHOPPING!"
He couldn't stop himself from groaning aloud. Somehow he had a feeling that this would be even worse than the Great Wedding Present Expedition with Tonks.
She bolted for the Visitor's Entrance, leaving him to haul the heavy bag of gold, and bounced on her toes impatiently as the lift brought them up to the streets of London. When they arrived at the Leaky Cauldron, however, there was a small crowd of frowning sorcerers in the front parlor, and the reason was all too clear. Large glowing letters floating over the bar proclaimed that the entrance to Diagon Alley was closed.
"Disgraceful, innit?" said a nearby wizard in response to Ondossi's howl of protest. "Righ' before the 'olidays an' all." There was a new commotion near the back, then Fred and George stomped through the rapidly parting crowd. They bore identical murderous expressions and passed Harry without spotting him.
"What happened?" said Harry, fearing the worst.
"Nuffin' 'appened," the wizard grunted. "Word is the Ministry 'eard a rumor abou' an attack, an' they ordered poor Tom to close 'er up." He threw his hands up in disgust. "'Oo knows if there's any trufe to i'. An' 'ere I'm waiting all week to buy me Christmas presents. Can' even get to Gringotts. Tom's workin' on the goblins to se' up a currency exchange, so's we can a' leas' shop in Muggle London fer the 'olidays. Oi!" He closed his eyes with a grimace, imagining the looks on his children's faces as they opened their gifts and found Muggle toys instead of something from the twins' joke shop.
Ondossi had turned an unexpected shade of purple, rather reminiscent of Vernon Dursley at his most enraged. "Oh, no. I'm not giving up on my first and only shopping spree. Come on, Harry." She grabbed his elbow and hauled him back to the Ministry.
Ignoring the guard who met them at the elevator, she headed to the nearest fireplace. "Yggdrasil Portal!" she barked and disappeared in the emerald flames. Harry followed quickly, hoping she knew what she was doing.
He emerged in a beautiful room that seemed to be made entirely of pale blue glass, but one touch revealed that it was carved out of ice. Having just stepped out of a fireplace, this was particularly unexpected, but Harry had no time to marvel at the place, as Ondossi was already making a beeline for an identical hearth across the room. A clerk at a crystalline desk eyed them curiously. Harry responded with a shrug.
"Reykjavik Portal," said Ondossi. This time they emerged in a room that strongly resembled the Ministry in London, though smaller and with fewer fireplaces. It was gone in an instant as he followed her through another Floo to a place called Thule Portal. This also had an official look to it, and there was a red rope sequestering off a queue for the opposite fireplace. With a huff, Ondossi pulled him into the line.
"Tura... where are we?"
She sighed again, resigning herself to the wait. "Thule. In Greenland. This is at an international Floo portal. The others were all hooked up with the North Europe Floo network, which is why we could just walk through. But this is the gateway to my country, so they have to register us. Get some money out; we've got to buy powder at this one."
Harry fumbled obediently for the Gringotts sack. "We're going around the world to go shopping."
She wrinkled her nose. "Come on, it's not like we're at the equator or anything! It's only two more stops after this one, Melville Island and Mackenzie Station, then we're in Northpole."
They slowly drew up to a cluttered desk manned by a pair of witches who looked like they could be Ondossi's sisters. One of them recognized her and began scratching her name on the long Entrance Record parchment. Tura spoke to the other witch in Inupiaq. Harry heard his name in the midst of all the unknown words, and the team behind the desk looked up at him and giggled. The first witch added his name to the record, peeking coyly at him as she wrote. He smiled politley, vowing to get her for this later.
"Give them a Galleon," Ondossi said.
"A whole Galleon for two Floos?" he demanded.
"I owe them. The last couple of times I went home, I couldn't pay. Besides, they're poor and we're loaded; we gotta share the wealth." She thwacked him on the shoulder for his insolence and talked some more with the native witches while he produced the coin and got a receipt. "Come on," she said, pulling on his sleeve. "She says there was a polar bear at Melville earlier, maybe we can still see him."
It was very stark in Melville, a single pair of rough-hewn fireplaces in what looked like a cave. Ondossi immediately darted down a staircase that he would never have noticed in the dark. It opened into a similar cavernous room, this one with a large window on the far wall. The sky outside was dark, but an incredible spectacle of green and blue light undulated across the entire sky.
Shocked, Harry's first thought was that a huge Dark Mark was being cast over them, but he quickly realized this must be the Aurora Borealis. It was mesmerizing, the size and speed of the rippling bands of light creating a constant dance as big as the sky itself. Harry bumped his nose on the glass pane, so absorbed was he by the view. Ondossi, however, was essentially ignoring it, scouting around for the polar bear.
"Aw, nuts! There's a bunch of prints way down the slope, but no bear. I guess he found whatever he was looking for and left." She glanced over at him, pouting, then gasped a little in surprise at his fascination with the view. "Never seen the Lights before?" she asked softly.
Harry shook his head slowly. "Professor Sinistra told us they're visible from Hogwarts maybe once a month, if you're lucky enough to look at the right time. They're so beautiful. Magical!"
She snickered. "Silly. Not magic at all. They're science. The sun spits at us, and the lights come on when it hits our planet."
It took a moment for that to sink in. "Truly an elegant description," he said.
They stood silently side-by-side and watched the display for a long time. Tura finally noted that they'd be able to see the aurora at their other stops, too, in an obvious hint to get moving. He was reluctant to tear his eyes away, even for a minute.
"Mackenzie Station doesn't have a nice viewing room like this," she said as they climbed the stairs. "This island is uninhabited, so they risked a glass pane in the mountainside here, but Mac's in Canada. Remote, but still accessible by Muggles. We'll just breeze through straight to Northpole."
Following her through the last Floo Portals, a pleasant feeling of adventurous exhiliration began to mount in Harry's belly. His only prior travel had been the brief trip to France for the wedding, and there he was surrounded by fellow British wizards. This was going to be something completely new.
It was almost a disappointment to step out of the Northport Central Floo, because although it was large and full of fireplaces, it was also completely deserted. Ondossi let out a string of Inupiaq words and stomped her foot.
"I forgot! It's one AM here! We STILL have to wait to go shopping!" She looked as though she might explode, but then she narrowed her eyes at Harry. "Although... Tell you what, Harry. You wait right here and don't go anywhere. I'll be back in a little bit."
"What?" He caught her sleeve. "Are you daft? Do you know what Remus will do--"
"Pfft!" she hissed. "He'll never find out. Trust me,no one will ever know we were here. Just sit tight and wait." Before Harry could mount another protest, she dashed into the Floo, muttering a collection of syllables in her native tongue.
Harry could do little but open and close his mouth, fishlike, in surprise. One AM, he thought. What the devil am I supposed to do until she gets back? The thought of being discovered by Merlin-only-knew who in this place... whatever it was! Harry had no idea if this was part of the American Ministry, or the Institute she mentioned frequently. It would be just like Tura to Floo him into some restricted or forbidden area and then flounce off, leaving him to take the resulting heat. I wonder where she learned that, he pondered wryly.
"Is there anyone here?" Harry called softly, then again a little louder. He pursed his lips thoughtfully. Well, I'm not going to sit in an empty building for who knows how long. He strolled along the row of fireplaces and found that, sure enough, it ended in a wooden double door with ornate pewter knobs carved like birds' heads. He grabbed a beak and gave an experimental push, then a pull.
The door swung inward quickly and silently, followed by the coldest blast of winter air Harry had ever felt. A good two feet of snow had accumulated in the doorframe, making a perfectly flat cliff where it had compacted against the door. The Northern Lights were indeed visible overhead, but the air was so cold it stung his eyes. Harry hastily slammed the door again and scampered to a cast-iron stove with a glow of real, toasty flames through its little grate.
He added a few pieces of wood and stoked up the embers into a cheery fire, then huddled over it until the chill abated. For lack of anything better to do, he took out his wand and constructed an impressive replica of the Eiffel Tower from the woodpile beside the stove. Finally there was a glow of emerald light from one of the Floos and the whooshing sound of an arrival. Tura bustled out of the hearth carrying what looked like some sort of animal.
"Ah, good!" she said, immediately cozying up to the stove. "It's pretty brisk out there."
"Mmm," Harry grunted noncommittaly. "Out where, exactly? Being ditched in the middle of the night in a strange country isn't exactly what I had in mind for this trip, you know."
"Well, you can't go around wearing that ridiculous coat, Harry." She held up the animal, which turned out to be a heavy fur parka similar to the one she wore. "I zipped up to the Slope and got this for you. I had to wake up the seamstress; she would have been even more grumpy if I showed up in the middle of the night with some gussuk."
Harry was finding it very hard to remain cross with her as he examined the coat in his hands. It was made of layers of leathery hide, with fur facing both inside and out, the hood trimmed with thick fur of a different kind. It looked incredibly warm and insanely expensive. "Uh, Tura? What did... Is this for me?" he finally squeaked.
She rolled her eyes. "Duh! Who else would it be for? Now put it on so you can take the boots." At that point, Harry took a good look at her and realized she was loaded with winter gear.
"Tura!" he protested. "This must have cost a fortune!"
"Not really. It would in a tourist store, but I've brought in a few pelts in my time--she gave me a good price. Besides, you need it--you'd freeze to death in minutes if I tried to take you shopping in that silly jacket! Come on, let's see if it fits."
The parka had no zipper in front; it was designed to be pulled on overhead. It was heavy but supple and warmed up immediately. She hummed in approval and helped him into the boots, then the mittens. "Very nice," she said, pulling up the hood. "You look like one of the People now, except for your lily-white skin, pretty boy."
"Are these... claws?" Harry held up a seeming decoration on the edge of the hood.
"Of course! Only the best for you, hotshot. The claws prove that the former owner of that fur was a wolverine. That's the best fur for trim--it doesn't get all icy from your breath. Come on, we've got some time to kill. Let's go for a walk."
Ondossi kicked into the little drift at the door without giving it a second glance, and the powdery snow gave easily. He followed, the bitter cold still stinging his eyes, but the rest of him was warm enough. He exhaled a cloud of steam that immediately rose in thin tendrils and vanished. "So where are we?"
"Come here and see!" she said, waving at him from the corner of the Portal building. Harry stepped around it, to behold a valley filled with the most outrageous spectacle of Christmas lights he'd ever seen.
She laughed. "Welcome to Northpole."
The Christmas trees were not so bad. They were all live, or at least planted in the ground like a live tree would be, and bedecked with ornaments and ribbons as one would expect. The homes and shops were outfitted with seeming layers of wreaths, swags, candles, and so forth, but even though excessive, these weren't too bizarre. What really caught the eye were the towering sculptures of ice, lit from within and below, shaped like elements of every sort of winter-holiday on Earth, and then some. On one street, glassy palm trees swayed to the hum of slack-key guitars, while Santa Claus floated across a small sea of ice in an outrigger canoe. On the next, carved Chinese families celebrated Dong Zhi by dining on glowing tang yuan soup. Further along, a camel nibbled hay while gifts were removed from its packs and left on the front porch of a Syrian house as children slept inside. It was as garish and absurd as it was festive and inviting, and both of them stared as long as the chill would permit it, then shuffled down a staircase built into the hillside to town.
She took him to a tavern called "Fly By Night" that strongly reminded Harry of the Leaky Cauldron. "It uses the same floor plan," Tura commented as they pulled off their parkas. "Story is some expatriate from London got homesick, so he built a little piece of home right here. But unlike the Leaky Cauldron, if you wander out the front door in your wizard clothes, nobody cares!" She made a beeline for a corner table after hanging her coat on a rack made of antlers.
"Well," said Harry when they'd settled in, "what now? We just sit here drinking until the shops open?"
"What, you wanna go out hunting or something? I can go back and buy you the fur pants, too." She seemed completely earnest, but then laughed. "Of course we just sit here drinking all night, we're in Alaska! Though we can slip in a few Legilimency lessons too, since that's our job for the rest of the break. What do you want to learn, hotshot?"
Harry considered a moment. He'd been able to "speak to" Sirius using only his mind, and though he wasn't quite sure how, Harry had an intuitive sense that he could do it again on his own. There was so much he wanted to know: telling truth from lies, retracing altered memories to find the originals, or breaking past the barriers of Occlumency. He also wanted to learn something that might help Sirius, but since he wasn't sure what exactly was wrong, he certainly didn't know how to fix it. He eyed a long strand of her hair coiling on her shoulder and was struck with an inspiration. "I know," he said. "Teach me how to be an Animagus."
She put her elbows on the table and rested her head in her hands. "I don't believe this," she said. "I offer you any topic in Legilimency and you ask for snake lessons. Are you trying to make me crazy, or does it just come naturally to you?"
"What are you saying, you can't do it?" Harry teased. "Come on, it'll be a Legilimency lesson; I don't want to transform so much as to learn how it's done. I want to help Sirius do it again, if I can," he added meekly.
Rolling her eyes, she sat back again and frowned at him. "You do know it's not safe for you to mess around in his head?" She nodded. "Of course you know. You don't care. Ai, yi yi. One of these days you're going to leap headlong into something that won't give, Harry."
He shrugged. "I've always found a way to pick up and dust myself off."
She touched her nose. "Exactly. That right there is the problem. All right, fine, I'm not against showing you how I animorph. It'll be a good lesson, actually--show you the general principle behind connecting with people's magic. That's how I help people cast a spell they've never tried," she explained. "It's a little different from touching their thoughts. Shoot, I probably should have taught you that long ago--you'd have been a much better assistant in class."
She wriggled out of the booth and led him to a small parlor. Harry very nearly commented that this was the same room he and Cornelius Fudge had used on the night he inflated his Aunt Marge, but he caught himself. It was a duplicate of that particular parlor. And a rather convincing one, too--the main pub had a number of inconsistencies (not the least of which were the moose heads mounted on the walls) but this room seemed to have even the same books on the shelves. Tura closed the door with a soft click.
"Okay, let's give this a shot," she said, standing with her back to the hearth. "This is new for me too; I've never had anyone try to follow along before. I'm not exactly sure what'll happen. You still game to try this?"
Harry had to fight to keep a mischievous grin from surfacing. There they were, in a dark, cozy room with a crackling fire, a world apart from anyone who might bother them. Oh, Tura, let me count the ways, he thought, then banished the notion before she could lift it from his mind. Focus, he told himself. You have to help Sirius.
"Absolutely. Snake on!"
She laughed and took hold of his wrists. The contact made it easy to flow into her mind; he didn't even need to look at her. She was fretting a little, uncertain how to show him the process without actually transforming.
"Just do it," he said aloud, hearing the sound from his own perspective and hers. His voice sounded strange through her ears. "Whatever happens, how bad could it be?"
She laughed again, and he could feel the cynical bite behind it. Famous last words, she chided internally, but she tightened her grip and nodded. The room went completely black. It had been dim to begin with, but not like this. It was as though he'd plunged into a cave, pressing in on him from all sides, cutting him off from everything in the world. Having expected a flood of strange new sensations, it unnerved him to receive quite the opposite, and he reflexively tried to back away from her.
Oh, don't be such a chicken, was the last coherent thought he recognized.
His flesh suddenly felt as if it were on fire. The heat was horrible; he had to escape it, yet his limbs were useless; they seemed to have burned or melted off. Harry arched his back, trying to wriggle away, yet as he did so, he felt his spine stretch until it became impossibly long, as did his neck and head. Instantly he began to feel relief from the hideous heat; his new compact, streamlined body could slide in any direction and escape it. His blood rapidly cooled until it flowed like a mountain stream. His skin became smooth, waxy, covering him and protecting him more cleanly and imperviously than the thick, wet, smothering blanket it once had been. He could feel every vibration in the room with this wonderful sleek skin, from the echoes of footsteps in the hall to the gentle swaying of the tavern itself in the winter wind.
Harry was a snake. He couldn't believe he'd ever been content with that clumsy human form. How had he never realized that he was wasting so much energy heating his body, his blood? Even in sleep, his body worked to keep itself warm, never truly resting, constantly focusing all but a fraction of his power on maintaining his temperature. He'd wasted seventeen years on nothing more significant than producing heat, a task so mundane that a candle could accomplish it. He would never again return to that pathetic body, a slave to his own blood and the unbearable energy it demanded.
Tura, too, was a cobra, coiled around him, within him... she was him, he was her, they were one being, a snake, an androgyne, independent of anything in the world. Their thoughts were simple, clean, primitive. There was no guilt, no affection, no absurd conscience to bind them to anyone or anything. Harry opened their mouth in a scream of ecstasy, only to discover that their forked tongue was even more exquisitely sensitive than their new skin. Not smell, not taste, but some indescribable combination of the two, so powerful and discerning that Harry could identify every object in the room, and pinpoint its exact location with a single flicker.
A memory leapt to the front of their mind, one that belonged to Nagini, Voldemort's familiar, purposely forgotten and ignored by Harry. He had been with her the night she'd bitten Arthur Weasley, down in that cool, dark corridor at the Ministry of Magic. Though the human found it repulsive and frightening, the snake reveled in it--the complex flavor of the man's blood (though sickeningly hot), the satisfying feeling of penetrating through the tough, boggy skin into the delicate, springy lungs, the pleasure of injecting venom through its long teeth. The snake had only one purpose, one goal: to capture prey. Doing so was a deliciously fulfilling experience.
Harry felt her withdraw somewhat from his mind and was glad to be rid of her. Her humanity felt unwelcome and unwanted in this wonderfully simple mind and body. For the first time, Harry completely understood why Voldemort had altered his body to become more reptilian. It was the perfect form.
At that moment his face began to feel thick and pasty. Harry recoiled in horror, realizing that his skin was becoming human again. No! he screamed in Parseltongue. He couldn't bear to part with that thin, clean, hairless skin. But it was no use, the thickening continued. He could feel the buds of arms and legs beginning to form, already demanding heat from his blood, which they would only radiate away. But he was still a snake, he could shed his skin, he must shed this hideous shroud growing over him. He could remain a serpent if he acted quickly, before its crystalline knowledge was beyond his reach.
He saw Ondossi's face outside of himself. She was human again, lit by firelight in the midst of blackness. She was close, so close. He could taste her breath, feel the vibrations of the blood pounding through her veins. He wanted to bite her, to fill her throat with venom and leave her to die; she was soft, vulnerable, prey, and he a reptile with one purpose...
With a stern glare, she forced her way into his mind.
Colors. Joy. Music. Gratitude. Ondossi sent them all back into Harry, things the primitive brain of the snake could never grasp. It rushed into him at once, like a shooting star or a bullet. He was still in the body of the snake, but his human consciousness returned, under the twin onslaughts of her mind and his own, a smothering miasma of thought and memory. After the cold, keen, reptilian mind, Harry was overwhelmed by the complexity of information coming at him from so many levels, so many directions.
No, he thought again, but this time he said it to the snake, not the man. He remembered what it meant to be human, and that was his choice.
He collapsed against Ondossi. When his arms were free of the sides of his body, he clutched her tightly for support. Fangs slid back into his upper jawbone and the venom sacs withered away to nothingness. His tongue, still forked, tempted him grievously with the thrilling flavors in the air, but Harry had overcome the serpent. It was agony to feel the sensations fade, but he knew these were only chemicals. They may be delectable to a primitive reptile brain, but Harry's mind could reach farther than that, and find rewards much richer than mere sensation. He may not operate with the minimalist efficiency of the snake, but the snake could never know what it was like to forgive, to love; to be human, complex, warm.
As his human body returned, his senses dulled but his consciousness burned ever brighter. The cavelike darkness finally receeded, and Harry was back in the parlor at the Fly By Night. When he felt whole enough to raise his head, he looked again into Tura's wide, black eyes.
She held his gaze evenly, but she was shaking from the exertion and gasping for breath. It had required a tremendous effort for her to control the experience, to immerse him fully into the heart of the snake, but not permit it to steal him away forever. Harry felt a rush of both terror and gratitude and pulled her close, burying his face in her hair as his own pounding heart calmed and slowed.
"Sweetie, you're squishing me," she finally squeaked.
"Sorry." He released her and withdrew, suddenly ashamed. How could he ever look Mr. Weasley in the eye again after remembering that horrible attack with so much pleasure? He'd relished being a snake, being Voldemort's snake, of all things!
Apparently Tura was skimming his thoughts, as she smacked him hard on the shoulder. "Cut it out!" she snapped. "Don't you dare get all guilty! You didn't bite poor Arthur, and besides, that snake was a sicko! Trust me, it's not just one big 'glory of the kill' fest, being a reptile--it's mostly basking on warm rocks and sniffing stuff with your tongue. The Dark Lord's personal pet is the exception, not the rule!"
The notion of warm rocks struck a wholesome chord within him and eased the shame somewhat. "But Tura... I didn't want to come back. I didn't want to be human again."
She nodded, smiling kindly. "I know. It's hard when you first transform! It seems so much simpler to throw off all your burdens and responsibilities and just be an animal. But Harry, it took me months to learn the full transformation, and in that time I could reflect on what it meant to be human and make a sensible decision. You got thrown into snakeness all at once, so of course all you noticed were the perq's." She paused, winking conspiratorially. "And hey, that whole forked tongue thing is totally killer awesome, I'll be the first to admit it."
Harry recalled in full the way he could taste her breath with his serpent's tongue. His cheeks and ears warmed up so quickly he thought they surely must be glowing. Once again, the fact that they were blissfully alone with a romantic fire suddenly became glaringly obvious to Harry, and Tura seemed to be pondering the implications as well. He couldn't be certain, though, because she refused to meet his gaze.
A clock in the hall chimed three times. "Noon already back in England," said Ondossi, backing away from him with a note of relief in her voice. "Let's get some eats." Harry paused a moment to watch her scamper back to the pub. Aways a challenge, he mused, grinning, then followed.
They passed the hours sitting in the main pub and practicing Legilimency, earning some odd looks from the other patrons. She thought they should focus on projecting his thoughts, since it had come to him so recently. "Man, the first time I did that, it scared me half to death," Tura confided. "I was haggling with Asbesta Prynne over my price for doing her garden. What a cheapskate! I mean, I'm a tightwad, but I'll pay a fair price for quality work. Anyway, I was getting kinda mad and I thought something like, 'you penny-pinching old hag,' except it was in Inupiaq, of course. Ai, caramba, Harry, she looked like a broom had snuck up under her and took off. I mean, she positively FLEW. Well, shoot, I thought maybe she'd been hit by some spell, so naturally I read her, and there were my thoughts in her short term memory. I think I flew twice as far as she did!"
"You thought she'd done Legilimency?"
"Exactly! Without a wand, no less! But then she started hollering at me for messing with her head with my mudblood Eskimo curses and I knew she hadn't done it, I had."
"Mudblood Eskimo?" gulped Harry.
She nodded at him with a knowing glare. "Can you believe it? I was so mad I almost blanked out her consciousness. As it is, I shoot out her porch light every few weeks or so... Come to think of it, we gotta go by her place later." She grinned wickedly, but all Harry could imagine was the look on Lupin's face if the two of them were arrested for vandalism.
By the time the tavern started serving breakfast, Harry could project words easily, even ordering some bacon and eggs without speaking. "Neil won't mind, he's unflappable," Ondossi had told him, and she was right. The bartender looked up and asked, "Scrambled or over easy?" without missing a beat.
The shopping itself went surprisingly quickly. Harry found quirky little presents for everyone on his list, from books about American potions, herbs, and Quidditch, to a dog carved from obsidian that remarkably resembled Snuffles and was enchanted to sit, roll over, and do other tricks on command. Ondossi bought very little, just a robe and a few T-shirts to wear under it. The reason became obvious as they were packing up to return to London: Harry picked up the Gringotts bag she'd been carrying and discovered it was almost empty, though it had been stuffed with wadded paper to appear full.
"Tura!" he said sharply, patting his new parka. "Did you spend four months' pay on this coat?"
She huffed loudly and snatched the Gringotts bag. "I knew it. I KNEW you'd have a cow if you found out. Well, don't. It's a good coat, and it will last you forever. It's got room for you to grow and everything."
"But..." This was more overwhelming than Fred and George buying him the silk dress robes. She waved a finger under his nose before he could continue.
"But nothing! It's yours. Be gracious, Mr. Here, Lupin, You Can Have My House."
Touche', he thought, but wasn't ready to give up yet. "But it's too much! You don't even have enough to get Christmas presents!"
She gave him the old Hairy Eyeball. "Who else am I going to buy a present for? Merry Christmas, Harry, from Santa's Little Helper." She turned her back and trudged off through the snow.
Harry Potter and the Heirs of Slytherin by fawkes_07
Chapter Notes: The school year wraps up and Harry takes a brief foray across the sea and to new depths of his mind.