A/N: Hey everyone! This is a very old fic of mine, written in 2006, so all the information in here is based off of the first six books alone, as the seventh hadn't been released yet. I also didn't really bother to edit it when posting it up here, because I knew if I got started I would go crazy and just end up rewriting the whole thing, since the writing is that of a 16-year-old me instead of a 21-year-old me. So be kind, rewind, and enjoy!
P.S. The story is just 3 chapters- when originally writing it, I had planned for it to keep going but I eventually gave up on it and just let it be where it was, since the cutoff was not that bad. And you'll see in later chapters that some of my predictions were pretty dang on-the-spot; thank you, thank you, hold your applause. (Yeah, yeah, I know I'm not anywhere near being the only one who guessed a lot of that stuff correctly, but still. I was proud of it.) OKAY ANYWAY. Here we go.
Harry was sprinting, having just heard a loud BANG from the door of the house he had left only minutes ago, a square house with a tidy yard surrounded by other square houses with other tidy yards. But why on earth was he going back to the Dursleys' house? He did not want to go back, no, he had thought he would never have to again. But he flew in through the door, which oddly enough was wide open; even more oddly, the house was in total disarray. Inside he saw a fat, mustached man cowering against the side a staircase, with an even larger boy and a bony, long-necked woman peeking out in terror through the crack of a cupboard door behind him. Advancing toward them was a figure draped in black robes, face hidden behind a mask and a thin stick of wood pointed at the large terrified man. Harry was running at the robed Death Eater and pointing his wand at him, shouting… someone else with bushy brown hair was ushering the terrified Mr. Dursley inside the cupboard with his wife and son… the Death Eater was shooting curses at Harry and a tall boy with red hair who had just arrived from behind. Everything was confusion, chaos; now there was another robed figure, another Death Eater, who shot a spell at the girl with bushy hair that slammed her against the door of the cupboard as she closed it. The first Death Eater shot a jet of icy white light at Harry, whom he dodged, and then the second rushed at him with a small dagger and stabbed him in the stomach just as the redheaded boy hit the Death Eater with a spell that knocked him out… and Harry woke with a start.
His surroundings were white and blurry. He began to stretch, but stopped abruptly as a throbbing pain went through his abdomen. So it hadn't been just a dream. The hospital room came into focus as he pulled his glasses on, revealing four faces staring at him from the bedside. Ron, Hermione, Lupin, and… Uncle Vernon. Harry sat up slowly, hardly believing his eyes. His uncle gave a self-conscious cough, twisting his hands together and muttering incoherently. Harry gave the others a questioning look, but Uncle Vernon didn't seem to be able to speak clearly. Finally Lupin saved him the effort.
"Your aunt and cousin are fine. We repaired their house." He glanced over at the purple-faced man beside him and continued quietly, "We tried to explain what happened as best we could, but of course he didn't understand much." Uncle Vernon scowled behind him. "It seems that those two Death Eaters-"
"What the devil made those two freaks come into my house?" interrupted Uncle Vernon, seeming to finally find his voice. "You're not even gone an hour, and these maniacs come blasting their way through, looking for you, boy! Waving those… things around, smashing furniture, threatening my family! It's that lunatic after you again! And now here I am, in a hospital for your kind, all manner of impossible things circling and running and squawking about… and… and I demand to know what it is you have that they want! Why don't you just give it to them, and stop endangering my family!" Having said what seemed like everything that was on his mind in one breath, his moustache twitched nervously, and he cast a sidelong glance at Lupin's wand.
Harry sighed, noting mentally that his uncle didn't seem remotely concerned that his nephew had come close to being killed. But still, he might as well tell him the bare basics. "I don't have anything they want; it's me they're after." His uncle's eyes bulged at this news. "They probably thought I would still be there, and wanted to catch me now that they can get at me in your house. Look- go back home. They won't be after you anymore; they know you don't have what they want." Harry didn't know if he was being totally honest; he couldn't guarantee anyone's safety with the Dark Lord at large. He didn't mention that the only reason Voldemort probably wouldn't bother having the Dursleys killed was that he knew Harry hated them.
"Well then, see that you don't let it happen again." He stood awkwardly, looking as if he would have like to rant at Harry for telling him what to do, but his fear of all the wands in the room seemed to win him over. Harry felt a twinge of annoyance that Uncle Vernon hadn't even thanked him for saving his life, but he knew that the Dursleys would never admit Harry was good for anything, no matter what he did for them. Lupin clapped Harry on the shoulder with a small smile and told him to take care, then followed him out the door. Harry could hear him arguing with Uncle Vernon as to how he would get him back to Privet Drive. It seemed to him that those who knew him were less and less surprised every time he ended up in the hospital. As soon as he was sure Uncle Vernon was gone, he turned to Ron and Hermione.
"What happened to the Death Eaters? Who were they?"
Ron spoke in a hurry, obviously eager to get Harry's mind off the Dursleys, "They got away, both of them. Lupin and that little Dedalus Diggle bloke arrived soon after that second Death Eater got you, and they chased them out- didn't manage to catch them. Hermione and I were a bit- preoccupied- seeing as we didn't know if you were alive, mate. But listen," it seemed as if Ron was arriving at the point he was most anxious to discuss, "you won't believe who that first Death Eater was. The one who was interrogating your uncle. Narcissa Malfoy!"
Harry's eyes widened. "Malfoy's mum's a Death Eater now?"
"Apparently," Hermione spoke up. "The way we see it, either Voldemort's giving their family a second chance and she's trying to get the lot of them back on his good side, or she's trying to save her son from being murdered by getting you for him. Or… she's not really a Death Eater, and she was trying to kill you for her own reasons."
"I doubt Voldemort's all that ready to be pals with the Malfoys at the moment. They've screwed up far too much. I reckon you're right, though; whatever she's doing, she's doing it to try to get her darling Draco out of danger."
They discussed the possibilities of Narcissa Malfoy's new position and what had happened to Draco until a Healer with frizzy gray hair poked her head in. After she gave him some potion that made him feel very itchy for a few seconds, he remembered he had no idea how long he had been in the hospital and what they had done with him. He didn't feel like talking to the Healer, though, so he waited until she had left before asking Hermione, "So anyway, when can I get out of here?"
"The doctor- sorry, I mean Healer- says you should be able to leave tomorrow, as soon as they're sure your muscles are all healed. The knife really didn't go very deep, but it tore a muscle and it might hurt for quite a while. She says you were really very lucky that's all that happened…" Her voice faded tremulously, but then she came out of her reverie and said, "Listen Harry, we have to go soon. Mrs. Weasley's having a fit with worry, and Lupin has to go off somewhere as soon as he gets your uncle back to his house. We're really sorry to leave you like this, but there's nobody else to let her know what's happened, and she'd die of anxiety by the time an owl would be able to deliver it. Come by the Burrow tomorrow when they let you out, okay?" She waited anxiously for some reaction from Harry, but he just shrugged.
"Wish we knew how to send messages with Patronuses… we should see if Mad-Eye or someone will teach us," added Ron. "Anyway, we really do need to go; you've only been here for a night, you'd think mum would be able to just go to sleep, we told her you'd be okay. See you later, Harry."
"Okay. But what am I supposed to do all day? Am I allowed to leave the room?"
"They said you can walk around inside the hospital, as long as you don't strain yourself," Ron replied, grinning at the look on Harry's face. That sort of order sounded exactly like the sort of thing Madame Pomfrey had always been telling him. "Be nice to the 'doctors,' and they'll be nice to you," Ron called, heading out the door. Hermione huffed at the insult of her Muggle terminology, then kissed the top of Harry's head and followed Ron out the door.
"Now what?" grumbled Harry twenty minutes later when his ability to stare blankly at the ceiling failed him. He supposed he would go fix himself a cup of tea. Pushing himself off the bed, he carefully tested his ability to walk. His stomach hurt a little, but he was pleased to see that he had no trouble getting about. Maybe walking would help him heal more quickly so he could leave sooner. He hated the thought of Mrs. Weasley worrying about him. Remembering from his last visit here that the tearoom was on the top floor, he wandered down the hall, looking for a lift. Narcissa Malfoy… the thought of yet another Death Eater going about freely made him want to punch something. He stewed the intriguing but frustrating subject over and over in his mind, the idea of tea becoming fainter with every return to, Why? What does she have to offer Voldemort that would be tempting enough for him to forgive her family? But as he passed a door labeled the Janus Thickey Ward, he stopped short, and his thoughts jolted to the last time he had visited St. Mungo's Hospital for Magical Maladies and Injuries.