(A/N: Hello, All You Beautiful People! Yes, I'm not dead. I've just been incredibly busy, with school and work. Hopefully, I can better balance out my life so I can dedicate an hour or half hour, every other day, to my writings, so that we can get somewhere with my stories. But, this one came to me while me and my fiance were discussing trauma, and coming to terms with trauma. So, Without further ado...)
His Harry Little Problem
Chapter One: Blood of the Enemy, Unwillingly Spilt
Harry was bound against the tombstone, the thick ropes leaving him unable to move as Voldemort advanced, a mad gleam in his eye, "Harry Potter, The Boy Who Lived." Voldemort's cold hiss seemed to hang in the air after he finished speaking. "The savior of the people." He sneered, the Death Eaters laughing, "You have bested me twice now, but no more. Those witches and wizards have hailed you as a hero among them, for killing me. Yet, even the greatest heroes fall from grace."
"And what better way, than to have their own fear tear them apart." He said, waving his wand and parting the clouds to reveal a full moon. "Come out, Fenrir." Voldemort's voice, though soft, carried over everyone assembled. "Come greet our guest..."
The circle of Death Eaters opened, allowing a large, hunched figure through. Tall and bulky, with matted grey fur, a long snout, and sharp claws. This was obviously Fenrir Greyback, the werewolf who had bitten Lupin. "And now would bite me." Harry realized, his heart beating in dread. 'No, no, no no no…' This is what Voldemort had meant. To have Harry become a "dark" creature. To cause doubt to cloud the judgement of others.
The werewolf seemed to taste his dread. He gave a bark of laughter, as he stalked towards Harry. Seeing the arm already cut open, Fenrir made a show of slowly biting down on the wound, the razor teeth easily piercing Harry's flesh. He could feel the saliva mixing with his blood, the foreign pathogens beginning to spread through his body.
"And now, you can only watch as your adoring public turns against you..." Voldemort laughed, Fenrir's bloodied snout letting go of his arm, almost reluctantly, "What will they think of a savior who could turn on them? Who could maul and mutilate them during a full moon?" The high cold laugh, surrounded by the jeering Death Eaters, resounded around Harry, the sound digging into his skull. And suddenly, the ropes were undone, and he fell, the hard ground forcing him to fall to his knees before keeling onto his side.
"Is this all you have, Potter? I was told you were a great wizard. That you could stand against me. Instead, you grovel in the dirt. Like your muggle mother. Such a pity." Voldemort sneered, "Well, don't keep your public waiting." He waved his wand, sending Harry, Cedric, and the cup all into each other, and back to Hogwarts.
Harry dimly felt himself flying through the swirl of colors, before he was slammed into the ground, followed by cheers. Then, Dumbledore was over him, his mouth moving, but no sounds that Harry could understand. "...rry! Harry! Harry!" Dumbledore's voice finally came into focus, "What happened?"
"He's back. He's back." Harry found himself saying, the nightmare of what had happened turning into a dreaded reality, the excrutiating sting of the knife and bite throbbing in his arm. Dumbledore froze for a second, before seeming to regain control of the situation. "To the hospital wing, both of you."
"He can't. He's, he's dead."
Dumbledore could only watch in horror as Amos began to run down to his son, pride clear on his face, only to turn to shock and despair as he realized that his son was lying there, not responding or moving.
"Ced? Cedric?" Amos asked, shaking his son's shoulder, "No... No..." Amos said, his voice cracking with his composure, tears beginning to spill. Amos leaned back and wailed to the sky, a broken voice filled with pain and loss. Even as ministry officials descended upon the scene, hoping to get everyone out, Amos would not be separated from his son, clinging to his lifeless body as if it were a flotation ring and he were drowning.
"C'mon, son." Harry heard Moody say, even as Harry's vision filled with tears, the noise reminding him of the lonely nights spent crying himself to sleep, "Best to let a man grieve in peace." Moody steered him back to the castle, Harry's feet following him unconsciously.
"What happened?" Moody growled as they reached his office, the door closing behind them, as Moody plopped Harry down in a seat,"The cup, it was a Portkey." Harry said, his eyes fixed on feet, as his hands held his head, his emotions threatening to spill over, "We were transported to a graveyard, and he was there, Voldemort. He had Pettigrew kill Cedric, before using my blood to resurrect himself. He's back."
"And you're still alive..." A smooth voice said, Harry looking up and around for the voice. Moody only looked back at him, his eyes narrowed. "The Dark Lord has returned, and yet you live." The smooth voice came again, as Moody's mouth moved. Harry's eyes widened as the last piece of the puzzle fell into place.
"Very good, Potter. You've just figured it all out." Faux-Moody said, as his features becoming like wax, and shifting, his face distorting even further. In fact, his whole body seemed to be contorting. The wooden leg fell off, as a new one grew in it's place. The scarred skin flattened and smoothed, as the magical eye jumped out of its socket, where another was replacing it. The hair changed from a ragged mane to short, cropped, and neat. The fake Moody whipped back around, revealing a face that Harry had only seen once before, in Dumbledore's memories: Bartemius Crouch, Jr.
"I was put here to lead you to him, but now I finish you!" He roared, raising his wand. As he began to cast, the door was blasted inwards, one of the boards slamming into his head, knocking him out cold. Harry backed away, as Dumbledore entered the room, more furious than Harry could ever remember seeing him.
"Minerva, I think it best that Mr. Potter be brought to the hospital wing, immediately." He said, his voice hard and unyielding, the command only emphasized by the slight billowing of his robes, "He has had a rather trying ordeal, and needs to rest." Harry felt McGonagall gently guide him away and down to the Hospital Wing. As she helped him lie down, Madam Pomfrey bustled in, "What happened?" Harry missed whatever was said next as the draining adrenaline pulled him into unconsciousness.
"Harry woke and shot bolt upright, his entire body shaking and screaming in protest. He looked over at his arm. Gauze was wrapped around his arm, as he heard a door open and Pomfrey came bustling over. "Mister Potter, please lie back. We need to make sure you are healing properly."
Harry lay back down as Pomfrey hovered over him, casting several spells, as the doors opened and Dumbledore strode in, his steps hurried but purposeful. "Harry, how are you?"Harry winced, taking a quick mental inventory, "In pain, sir."
"That is to be expected. Especially after the ordeal you have faced."
"Sir, can I ask your-"
Dumbledore held up a hand, forestalling Harry's question, "Give us a few minutes, Harry. There are those nearby that should not be, and those that are not, that should be."
As Harry was about to ask what he meant he heard raised voices, a man and a woman, arguing about something until the doors were flung open with a tremendous bang, louder than he had ever heard them opened.
"When Dumbledore hears of this-" McGonagall was shouting.
"He will understand!" Fudge responded, almost foaming with spittle.
"And what may I understand once I have heard it, Minerva?" Dumbledore asked.
"We no longer have the capacity to interrogate Crouch, thanks to the infinite wisdom of our dear Minister." McGonagall raged, sarcasm dripping off her words.
"As the British Minister of Magic, I may bring such protection as I deem necessary-"
"A fine reason to bring a Dementor into the school!"
"Cornelius! As I have told you many times, those creatures are not to enter this institution in any manner!"
"I am the Minister-"
"And these children cannot defend themselves against such beasts! The one you brought didn't seem to be at all in your control. Had any of those children been attacked, how would such an act have looked?" Dumbledore interrupted him, looking every bit as powerful as he was rumored to be.
Fudge did a rather impressive imitation of a fish out of water. "What is more," Dumbledore pressed on, "You have also destroyed the current person who could tell you where Voldemort is now."
"Dumbledore, he cannot be back. He was killed, by that boy!" Fudge argued, pointing his bowler hat at Harry.
"Ah, well, then I'm sure we recovered a body. That would put it conclusively at death."
"Dumbledore, you know as well as we do that there was no body recovered from the wreckage."
"Then, how can you rule out the possibility that he survived?" Harry interjected, as attention shifted to him, "We use magic to change the very nature of reality around us. Is it not impossible that he could have used magic to change even that?"
"Quiet, Potter." Fudge cut across him, "The adults, who are firmly grounded, are speaking."
"Mister Potter is quite right. Magic is a fickle thing, but used properly it can bring great prosperity or the deepest ruin."
"Mad..." Fudge said, his gaze shifting from Harry to Dumbledore, "Mad...", Before he left the Hospital Wing.
"A very good thought, Harry. However, please consider your words carefully next time." Dumbledore cautioned, "There are some magics best left forgotten. However, now we must decide upon a course of action going further."
"For Voldemort, sir?"
"No. For you, and your new...condition..." Dumbledore corrected, choosing his words carefully, "I trust you know the implications of being a werewolf in our society?"
"Albus! He is no werewolf!" McGonagall snapped at him, even as the bandage was taken off his arm, the bite mark clearly visible on his forearm.
"Minerva, please call an immediate meeting of all staff members. There are grave matters to be discussed." Dumbledore instructed, his tone leaving no room for question.
As she left, Dumbledore turned back to Harry, "I cannot tell you the right course of action here. I can only make conclusions and suggestions."
"What would you suggest?"
"As you may be aware, werewolves are quite different from humans, even while they have a human form. I would recommend you take time this summer to adjust."
"I don't think I'll be able to adjust well over the summer."
"And why is that?"
"The Dursleys may make the transition, difficult."
"Then, you shall spend the summer with Sirius and Remus."
"Are you serious, sir?"
"Quite, Harry. Based upon your own pleas and the words of others, I have found that I have been fooling myself. You will not ever be forced back, especially since your condition makes it rather dangerous." Dumbledore said, standing back up, "However, we have a choice you must make Harry. I believe it best that we tell the heads of house about your predicament, in caution for the upcoming year. Professors McGonagall and Snape are already aware, as he would be brewing Wolfsbane potion for you, and she is your head of house. If you wish to keep it to yourself, that is also acceptable."
"I think I best...that they not know the specifics." Harry decided, "But I will be telling Sirius and Remus." After nodding gravely, Dumbledore stood. "Then we best not keep them waiting."
(A/N: Oh, it feels so good to post again. Hopefully, you guys enjoy this.)
(A/PS: Updated 3/12/2019, with help from daisygirl529)