Disclaimer:I don't own Harry Potter

Half-Blood Blessing

Chapter One: In St. Mungo's

I blinked several times trying to adjust to the harsh impersonal light and decipher what I saw as little more than varying shades of white and pale gray. I glanced quickly around the room searching for an escape, panic clutched at me, and my heart, beating allegro, attempted to jump its way into my throat. I flung out a hand blindly to find my glasses. My fingers found hardwood. My hand scuttled around the top of the side table before it found the wire frames. I put them on and with them flooded clarity of setting if not precisely situation. I took a second look around the room. It was white and clean with no windows and only one door. The bed-side table and a single padded chair were the only furnishings besides the bed. The sheets, also white, were rough, thin, and threadbare. The panic I had felt moments ago subsided, but was replaced with wariness. I didn't remember going to sleep here; I didn't even recognize the room from a previous visit. It was similar to the hospital wing at Hogwarts in its color and its smell, but I didn't recall any reason for me to be in the hospital. My mouth was dry; I hadn't seen any water so I swallowed once. It didn't help; I glanced at the side table and sat up straighter when I found an overturned glass and a pitcher of ice-cold water, sweating as if it had been there for some time. I poured myself a glass and took a sip. I set the glass down on a newspaper that I hadn't noticed earlier. I pulled it onto my lap and stared at the headline.

Boy-Who-Lived in St. Mungo's for Rare Disorder

I scoffed, and then nearly choked; now really that was ridiculous. Though, as I thought about it, the room would be explained, it seemed to be a hospital room. 'But me, have a rare disorder… well that would be just like me, wouldn't it,' I thought. I read on, though I was already impatient with The Prophet. In slightly smaller typeface the sub header claimed:

Harry Potter Diagnosed with Half-blood Curse, Little Known

Harry Potter, the Boy-Who-Lived, collapsed during his sixteenth birthday party, July 31st.

I glanced at the date in the corner of the page, August third. Had I been out for three days? I remembered the party at Grimmauld Place, but nothing after.

Friends, unnamed, rushed him to St. Mungo's Hospital for Magical Maladies and Injuries. His condition was said to be unstable for the first day. I squirmed at the thought of so many people fusing over me. Specialists say that he suffers from disordine mezzo di anima. The disorder is known by many names including Half-blood Disorder, Half-blood Curse, and Half-blood Untamed. Overall the disorder is not harmful except in a few cases. The problem arises between pure wizarding blood and muggle or non-magical blood. To better explain we asked an outside specialist. He said pure bloods have the magical ability born into them, they will naturally know magic. Muggleborns have the potential but must learn to use magic. Half bloods, witches and wizards who have one pureblood parent and one muggle or muggleborn parent will have a conflict with their blood. This conflict results in a 'war' for control of the magic on or near the witch or wizard's sixteenth birthday. Most commonly the non-magical blood wins control, and they have the same abilities as they always had, they maintain control of the magic. Because the non-magical blood so commonly wins this duel, little is known of cases when magical blood wins. Reports from hundreds of years ago say the logical mind no longer guides the magic; the magic the individual wields becomes intuitive. Other reports claim there is an increase in the amount the individual can use. All say the individual eventually goes mad from the magic and disappears from society altogether. Potter's case is the first in over a hundred years to have so severely affected the well being of the individual. This reporter believes it is his traumatic past, namely the fateful night he defeated He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named.

I chuckled; they wouldn't even write his name. 'So, I'm in St. Mungo's, and no one is about, do they not care? What time is it anyway?' A soft tick tock caught my attention. I noticed a clock hanging on the wall; its hands read 5:30 in its red-rimmed face. 'Perhaps everyone needs a rest, that's ok,' I told myself, tipping my chin up. If I were completely honest I would have thought it hurt that no one was worried enough to brave the time in that hard uncomfortable chair. I glared at the chair; it seemed more uncomfortable, what I had thought was a cushioned seat was instead hard painted wood. 'Odd.' I gave up on gaining any more information from the paper and let it slip to the floor in a papery whoosh. I suspected the rest was only speculation anyway, since there never seemed to be any hard facts when it came to me, 'they're probably guessing what side won.' I wondered that too, my logical mind seemed in control right now, but then again I wasn't working any magic. Panic touched me again, warmth draining from my hands, 'Where is my wand?' I checked my pockets and the side table growing more and more anxious but didn't find it. It hadn't left me since June. For the first time, I noticed a drawer in the table and opened it. There were several pieces of paper floating about in the drawer but no wand. 'They must have taken it. I might have left it at Grimmauld Place.' I doubted it though; I'd carried my wand, my only protection, my only weapon, everywhere, even trips to the restroom in the middle of the night. I had hated returning to that house after the end of last year. Every inch reminded me of Sirius. I shivered, pressure collected at the end of my nose, I lifted my chin again. I had seen Remus Lupin around, though he had seemed on the verge of tears every time I had laid eyes on him, though that event was infrequent enough. 'He must hate that house as much as I do; Sirius was the last of his friends.' I had shed few tears since the end of term but every time I thought of Sirius a great lump of grief lodged itself in my throat.

For the most part, I had received and sent very little mail over the summer. Ron and Hermione, who had been at the Burrow until the third week of July, had sent almost no post. I guessed they were trying to give me time and space to deal with the grief; I'm still not sure if I was upset they hadn't written or was glad for it. It mattered little, at the moment, very little mattered.

I settled back down into the bed, resigning myself to more boring minutes waiting for people to show up. I waited, the clock ticked away the seconds. The soft clicks quickly grew loud and more irritating. I closed my eyes and plugged my ears with my fingers to block out the sound. I was still for some time and then opened an eye, the clock was still on the wall but the persistent tick tocks had stopped. Satisfied with that at least, I laced my fingers and set them on my lap. My fingers tapped out a tattoo on the knuckles of the other hand and bored once again, I waited.

I must have dozed off because the soft rasp of a bolt lock woke me. I watched the handle turn; the latch clicked and the door swung open on silent hinges. There was Remus with two cups of steaming tea. He looked haggard and wearier than I had ever seen him even in the days after full moons, even this last summer. 'What had he thought had happened to me?' His old robes hung off him seeming many sizes too large. With a wave of sympathy and regret, I realized he had probably eaten as little as I had in the last month and a half. I grinned on seeing him, even through my worry, and Remus smiled in return but it held the same grimness mine did. He walked into the room handing me one of the mugs, only then did I note how cold his fingers were, and mine, nearly frozen. Remus sat in the chair slouching with exhaustion, the cushion had returned. We sipped the honeyed tea in companionable silence, neither wishing to speak.

I twirled my empty cup in my fingers, 'were they longer, thinner?' Remus had fallen asleep not too long ago and I didn't have the heart to wake him even if I was bored enough to throw the cup like I was. Try as I might to keep my mind empty of memory, my thoughts drifted back over the summer. To avoid thoughts of Sirius, I tried to count the times I had eaten something substantial. Seven maybe eight times, no more than ten, I decided. As unhealthy as that was I couldn't say I really cared. I could tell I was worse than skinny when I examined my wrists, another result of general boredom, the examination, not skinniness. Skin and bones might have been an accurate description. I looked through the drawer again and, behold the nearly empty room offered up a mirror; I must have missed it the first time. Peering into it I took careful note of the changes the summer had wrought. My face was thinner, a slim nose, high cheekbones and bright eyes, my mother's eyes, as always. My hair had changed very little, a single constant in a changing life; it was the same shock of raven black. If anything it was wilder. Untamed, was that what I was now? If I guessed right, and I do not doubt that I did, the magical side of me had won. That would be me, abnormal in every way possible.

More time passed, and I entertained myself with flipping the cup as many times as possible before catching it. Remus had slept on through the morning; the clock said it was 9:30. I threw the cup a few more times, tossed and caught, tossed and caught, and then I twirled it on my fingers, balancing its weight. Just as I was thinking about sleeping again, it was a shorter way of passing time then staying awake and throwing a cup into the air over and over, the door opened swiftly, bounced off the wall and hit the back of the person who had backed into the opening. The noise was deafening but I refrained from putting my hands to my ears. The person who had stumbled through the door was none other than the Minister of Magic, Cornelius Fudge. The noise was coming from reporters and cameramen all yelling questions for the minister, it didn't seem like they were all about me, either. Fudge held up placating hands trying to fend off the flashes of light. Albus Dumbledore slipped past him, somehow unnoticed despite being quite tall. The minister followed on his heels, closing the door on the reporters and the noise. Silence reigned for a few moments. Then Dumbledore conjured a pair of chairs very similar to the one Remus was in. I reached over and touched Remus' shoulder. He jerked awake, the teacup rolling from his lax fingers to smash on the white tiled floor. I cringed at the noise. Dumbledore waved his wand, muttered, "reparo," and then sat in one of the chairs, levitating the repaired cup to the table next to where I had set mine.

Fudge slumped into the other chair rubbing his eyes tiredly. "Bad news, Harry, my boy, bad news," he said in that insufferable tone he used for me exclusively, "I'm sorry to tell you that your aunt and uncle are dead in an attack on your birthday."

I thought about it for a moment, 'they are dead.' It was simple as that, they are dead and I didn't feel anything. Did I feel remorse that they had died because of me? Maybe a little, if only for my fault in the matter. I acknowledged the feeling briefly and dismissed it. "And Dudley," I asked little caring about the answer.

"With his Aunt Marge," Fudge said dismissively.

I noticed the glare Dumbledore directed at Fudge. I might've bet that that was not how Dumbledore had planned on telling me, probably planning some manipulative suggestion.

Dumbledore sighed, "Harry, you have been out since your birthday party. You collapsed and Molly and Arthur brought you here. The healers have diagnosed you with half…"

"I know professor, Half-blood curse, I read about it in the paper this morning," I said as brightly as possible, just to rub at the weariness the professor must be feeling. I was not on good terms with the man and I didn't feel like mending those ties at the moment. 'Eventually, maybe.'

"Yes, Harry, that's correct," Dumbledore sounded ever so slightly impatient.

"Good, is there anything else you want me to know?"

"Yes, one more thing, you are currently in a no-magic zone. You are not able to perform magic."

"You just did, professor." I added a noticeable emphasis on the title, pouring as much insincere formality into the word as it could hold.

"Yes, because this is only a no-magic zone for you. The spell is on you."

"Is that all?"

"Almost, you will be moved back to where you were staying tomorrow assuming everything is in order. Your wand will be returned to you then."

"Thank you, headmaster." I wasn't sure I wanted to go back to Grimmauld Place; I certainly didn't intend to do so. "Minister," I added as an afterthought because that was really all he was anymore. Nodding briefly, I turned to Remus.

I listened for Dumbledore and Fudge to leave and then engaged Remus in as light a conversation as possible. When I asked who had my wand. Remus produced it from an inner pocket.

A tired half grin lit his face, a marauder's grin. "No wizard should be left defenseless," he explained while handing it over.

I cautiously steered the conversation to the Order.

"I've quit, Harry," said Remus, "I'm too tired." He sounded it and I nodded silently, after Sirius… I left the thought when my breath caught in my chest. It was then that I realized I had changed, I had prized the resistance, but now perhaps I thought Dumbledore's organization would not be a breaking force against Voldemort.

"How are you, Harry?" Remus said so softly I wasn't sure I had heard him speak at all.

"I'm dealing," I said trying to sound honest. In truth I was as bad off as Remus. "I need a holiday." Remus looked up in surprise.

"You're on holiday."

"No, I'm just not in school right now. I want a time without worries. I want peace. I want to spend time with you," I stared at Remus for a moment trying to gauge how he would take the next bit. "'Til Halloween, not go to school, not see anybody, not have to talk, and most importantly not do anything. Remus, I need this time." I pleaded for all my worth but the most Remus would give me was until term started. I hadn't really wanted to Halloween but bargains had to start somewhere. 'That was a Slytherin thought,' my mind identified, 'not that that bothers me,' I pointed out. Tomorrow, I was going to disappear.

Remus talked a little more as the evening drew on. I refused dinner, food alone turned my stomach and I was not going to eat anything sub-Hogwarts quality, so did Remus perhaps for the same reasons.

There had been silence for some time as we stewed in our own thoughts. Eventually I broke it. "Why didn't Ron or Hermione come see me?"

"They weren't allowed in. Hospitals have odd rules concerning minors, especially non-relatives."

We lapsed into silence again. I felt bad that I was going to leave my friends at the drop of a hat. When I had returned to Grimmauld Place, my friendship with Ron was not the same as it always had been, I wasn't sure why. It was probably just how much more I had aged than Ron. He still enjoyed chatting about Quidditch, and friendly matches of wizards' chess. I had become solitary, over the last year; I preferred brooding in dark corners. 'Maturity, if that's what it is,' I sighed, one long bitter breath, 'I wish it hadn't come to this.' Hermione was more aware of the world, more aware of why I was the way I was, more knowing about how I would react, how stubborn I was. I always could depend on her love and patience even when I was being stupid. I smiled the pressure was back at the tip of my nose. I had felt the splitting of the ways beginning last year and I had to follow it. I was so glad Ron had been my first friend and Hermione my second. I wondered what might've happened if I had shaken Malfoy's hand. I followed that train of thought for a long time, trying to decide if the same events would have happened at the end of every year. 'Maybe, with who I am, more likely than not.'

I woke again to the harsh light of the room I now hated. Remus had already gotten tea from upstairs, at least I had the feeling we were underground, and that he went up to get tea. The window belied that thought but really with magic I could be anywhere.

Remus handed me the mug, small comfort as our cold fingers touched. "The plan is when we get to the lobby, when I tell Albus, 'I'll see you next month,' you are going to latch onto my wrist for side by side apparation. The trick is to do it before Albus sees the trick."

"I could give you a hug, and then you could apparate out in the middle of the hug," I suggested.

"You have all the skill in planning your father ever did." Remus smiled. 'You do too,' I thought sadly, 'if you weren't so distracted by grief.'

We sipped the tea for a while longer. The door opened but not with the expected amount of noise, someone must have cleared the reporters out, I doubted they would miss an opportunity like this voluntarily. Dumbledore stepped in followed by Arthur.

"I see we are ready to go," said Dumbledore. I had dressed earlier and now was almost fidgeting with the wish to be out, to be gone. "No need to remain."

Mere minutes later we were sweeping down corridors following a nurse who I was sure had a map. There was no way one person would know every turn in this maze. Eventually, we found an empty waiting area where we stopped and the nurse left us.

Dumbledore turned to face us, "Harry, you are going back to headquarters with Arthur." I nodded imitating obedience.

Remus broke in, "I really must be on my way, good bye, Albus. Arthur, I'll see if I can stop by for dinner some time. I'll see you in a month." I embraced Remus in a tight hug and we were gone in a soft pop.

Author's Note: I first published this story several years ago under the same title. I managed to write nine chapters before I seemingly abandoned the story. However, I only abandoned updating it; the story is complete, if in need editing and polishing. So I will try to update with a new chapter every three to seven days. There is no guarantee that I will actually manage to keep to this schedule. I make no promises.

I hope that you enjoy my story.

Thank you,

Shifted Illusions