Harry Potter and the New Legend of Show White

By Jake the Fearless Leader

Chapter One

When Everything Old is New Again

It was the very beginning of the summer holidays. Most teenagers would be asleep at three thirty in the morning. The boy with the flaming red hair was certainly sleeping in the cot right next to him. But sixteen-year-old Harry Potter couldn't sleep. In fact, he hadn't slept in three days. He knew that he should feel tired. But he was more wide awake than he had ever been in his life. It had been like this after Sirius' death, but at least he was able to sleep then. He had just had no appetite. But now that Professor Dumbledore was gone, it wasn't just meals he was skipping, but sleep as well. In fact, the only thing Harry seemed capable of doing at the moment was bathing.

Of course the Dursleys hadn't bothered to check up on him. For all they cared, he could drop off the face of the world and, as that was soon about to happen, they seemed to be getting ready for it. But this summer was different. His two best friends, Ron Weasley and Hermione Granger, were living with him now. It was harder to hide from them, but he managed. As far as they knew, he was only not eating. He was pretending to sleep, but in truth was not able to manage it.

Harry sighed and rolled over onto his back. Ever since they had gotten back, he knew he had been acting oddly. Once in a while, he felt like he wasn't where he was supposed to be. And while he was able to cope with the Dursleys a lot more with his friends behind him, it seemed like there was no warmth between them at all.

If only Ron and Hermione hadn't argued when he said Draco Malfoy was up to something. Had they listened to him in the beginning when Harry was first suspicious, they might have prevented it all. Katie Bell wouldn't have had to go to Saint Mungo's after being attacked unexpectedly by a cursed necklace. Ron wouldn't have been poisoned by the mead on his seventeenth birthday. Madame Rosmerta wouldn't have been put under the Imperius Curse for very long. Dumbledore wouldn't have died. And he wouldn't have had to break Ginny Weasley's heart.

"Wouldn't it be great if you could live alone?" he whispered to himself. "If you lived alone, you wouldn't hurt anyone, nor would you get hurt."

Sometimes, Harry just wanted to leave there in the middle of the night, when everyone was still asleep, and just head out alone. But he knew that Ron and Hermione would track him down eventually. They'd never let him go anywhere alone, no matter how dangerous it was. Well, no matter. Even if they refused to let him go after the Horcruxes alone, he would just have to tackle the dangerous stuff. If there were anymore traps like that potion that weakened Dumbledore guarding the other Horcruxes, then he would just have to spring them himself. He wouldn't allow his friends to put themselves in danger for his sake. Besides, who knew Voldemort better than him?

"Harry, I'm flying north immediately. This news about your scar is the latest in a series of strange rumors that have reached me here. If it hurts again, go straight to Dumbledore…"

"I shouldn't have told him! It's made him think he's got to come back! Coming back, because he thinks I'm in trouble! And there's nothing wrong with me!... He's not going back to Azkaban because of me."

"Now listen… I don't want you lot sneaking out of school to see me, all right? Just send notes to me here. I still want to hear about anything odd. But you're not to go leaving Hogwarts without permission; it would be an ideal opportunity for someone to attack you." "No one's tried to attack me so far, except a dragon and a couple of grindylows." "I don't care… I'll breathe freely again when this tournament's over, and that's not until June."

"Harry, what do you think you are playing at, walking off into the forest with Viktor Krum? I want you to swear, by return owl, that you are not to go walking with anyone else at night. There is somebody highly dangerous at Hogwarts. It is clear to me that they wanted to stop Crouch from seeing Dumbledore and you were probably feet away from them in the dark. You could have been killed. Your name didn't get into the Goblet of Fire by accident. If someone's trying to attack you, they're on their last chance. Stay close to Ron and Hermione, do not leave Gryffindor Tower after hours, and arm yourself for the third task… Keep your head down and look after yourself. I'm waiting for you letter giving me your word you won't stray out-of-bounds again."

"Harry, are you all right? I knew it – I knew something like this – what happened?... What happened?" … "We can leave that till morning, can't we, Dumbledore?... Let him have a sleep. Let him rest."

"He's not a member of the Order of the Phoenix! He's only fifteen and –" "—and he's dealt with as much as most in the Order and more than some --" "No one's denying what he's done! But he's still --" "He's not a child!" "He's not an adult either! He's not James, Sirius!" "I'm perfectly clear who he is, thanks, Molly."

"Dumbledore must have had a reason for not wanting Harry to know too much, and speaking as someone who has got Harry's best interests at heart --" "He's not your son." "He's as good as. Who else has he got?" "He's got me."

"The Ministry's forced through another decree, which means we're not allowed to have Quidditch teams --" "-- or secret Defense Against the Dark Arts groups?" "How did you know about that?" "You want to choose your meeting places more carefully. The Hog's Head, I ask you…" "Well, it was better than the Three Broomsticks! That's always packed with people --" "You've got a lot to learn, Hermione." … "What do you think he was doing? Keeping an eye on you, of course." "I'm still being followed?" "Yeah, you are, and just as well, isn't it, if the first thing you're going to do on your first weekend off is organize an illegal defense group." … "So you want me to say I'm not going to take part in the defense group?" "Me? Certainly not! I think it's an excellent idea!" "You do?" "Of course I do! D'you think your father and I would've lain down and taken orders from an old hag like Umbridge?" "But – last term all you did was tell me to be careful and not take risks --" "Last year all the evidence was that someone inside Hogwarts was trying to kill you, Harry!"

"And how are you going to explain how you knew Arthur was attacked before the hospital even let his wife know?" "What does that matter?" "It matters because we don't want to draw attention to the fact that Harry is having visions of things that are happening hundreds of miles away! Have you any idea what the Ministry would make of that information?"

"It must have been the aftermath of the vision, that's all. You were still thinking of the dream or whatever it was and --" "It wasn't that. It was like something rose up inside me, like there's a snake inside me --" "You need to sleep. You're going to have breakfast and then go upstairs to bed, and then you can go and see Arthur after lunch with the others. You're in shock, Harry; you're blaming yourself for something you only witnessed, and it's lucky you did witness it or Arthur might have died. Just stop worrying…"

"I was supposed to see you alone, Potter, but Black --" "I'm his godfather." … "Who's going to be teaching me?" "I am." "Why can't Dumbledore teach Harry? Why you?" "I suppose it is a headmaster's privilege to delegate less enjoyable tasks. I assure you I did not beg for the job." … "If I hear you're using these Occlumency lessons to give Harry a hard time, you'll have me to answer to." "How touching. But surely you have noticed that Potter is very like his father?" "Yes, I have." "Well then, you'll know he's so arrogant that criticism simply bounces off him." "Sirius!" "I've warned you, Snivellus."

"I want you to take this." "What is it?" "A way of letting me know if Snape's giving you a hard time. No, don't open it here! I doubt Molly would approve – but I want you to use it if you need me, all right?" "Okay." … "Look after yourself, Harry."

"What is it? Are you all right? Do you need help?"… "He told me he'd never teach me Occlumency again, like that's a big disappoint --" "He WHAT?" "Are you serious, Harry? He's stopped giving you lessons?" "Yeah. But it's okay, I don't care, it's a bit of a relief to tell you the --" "I'm coming up there to have a word with Snape!" "If anyone's going to tell Snape it will be me!"

"Come on, you can do better than that!" … "SIRIUS! SIRIUS!" "There's nothing you can do, Harry --" "Get him, save him, he's only just gone through!" "It's too late, Harry --" "We can still reach him --" "There's nothing you can do, Harry… nothing… He's gone." "He hasn't gone! SIRIUS, SIRIUS!" "He can't come back, Harry. He can't come back, because he's d--" "HE – IS – NOT—DEAD! SIRIUS!"

This is good. You filled your heart with shadows. You are worthy of becoming the puppet of darkness which will give me power. You poor boy… Now, give to me your hatred.

"You'll see me again soon, Harry. I promise you. But I must do what I can, you understand, don't you?"

Why will you not accept me? Are you still attached… to the world of humans?

"We'll be there, Harry." "What?" "At your aunt and uncle's house. And then we'll go with you wherever you're going." "No --" "You said to us once before that there was time to turn back if we wanted to. We've had time, haven't we?" "We're with you whatever happens."

I see… So you love them. You really love them.

"Wake up! HARRY!"

Harry snapped awake with a violent gasp and bolted upright. His whole body was shaking. He was covered in icy cold sweat. It took him a moment to realize that he was resting against something strong and steady. Someone who smelled strongly of spices had wrapped their arms around him and pulled him into a comforting embrace. Harry only had very few memories of being hugged like this; Mrs. Weasley had done so the night Cedric Diggory died, Sirius had, as well, when Harry had arrived at Grimmauld Place and again at Christmas that year.

Harry looked up and saw a dark figure holding him close. It was way too familiar, but was it at all possible? "Sirius?" he asked softly, hopefully.

The figure holding him whispered something, but Harry couldn't understand him very well. It sounded very muffled. Yet it was definitely a mature male voice and no one would hold Harry like a parent after a nightmare except for Sirius. Harry smiled and snuggled deeper into his godfather's shoulder.

"Don't leave, Sirius. Don't leave me alone again," he whispered as he closed his eyes.

Sirius whispered something again, yet Harry still didn't understand. But he didn't care. He didn't even care that Sirius had always smelled of cypress and not spices. As long as Sirius was with him, that was all that mattered. Harry turned over so his back was resting against Sirius's chest, trying to get comfortable.

"Sirius…" he said softly as he drifted off again.

Ron Weasley sighed deeply. He had been lost in a dream when he was awoken by his best friend thrashing and crying out in his sleep. It had taken him at least five minutes to wake Harry and when he did, he shot up like he'd been fired from a cannon. Unsure of what to do, Ron had pulled him into a warm embrace. After a while, he seemed to recognize Ron's presence and looked up at him. But as soon as Harry had whispered Sirius' name, Ron knew he was still half asleep.

"No, it's me," Ron had told him in response. He wasn't sure if Harry had fully woken up yet until he had rested his head on Ron's shoulder and begged Sirius not to leave him. "Harry, Sirius isn't here. You were just having a bad dream," said Ron again, his heart breaking for his best friend. But even that didn't wake Harry, who just rolled over onto his back, relaxing in Ron's embrace.

"Sirius…" Harry had whispered just before slipping into a deep sleep once more.

That was what made Ron sigh so deeply. Harry had always been so strong and even though he pretended that nothing was wrong, he was slowly losing his mind. For the last couple of days, Harry had not eaten and Ron was pretty sure that this was the first time he slept. If this kept up, Harry wouldn't last long against the Dark Lord. Ron didn't think he could bear it if something were to happen to him.

Ever since he was very young, Ron had dreamed of meeting the boy wizard who's name he had grown up hearing. Ron would sit up late at night whenever Fred and George teased him, picturing the famous Harry Potter would show up and curse the twins into toads or slugs. When he had heard the Boy Who Lived was on the train before his first year at Hogwarts began, Ron was sure it was Fred and George playing one of their jokes. He purposely searched for him, determined to prove his brothers wrong.

That was when he saw Harry for the first time and instantly he was convinced Fred and George had been making the whole thing up. The boy in the compartment could not have been Harry Potter. He was way too small and skinny for a boy of eleven. The clothing on his back barely fit him, giving him even more of a sickly look. His face was very thin, almost too thin. He had untidy black hair and wore round glasses that had obviously been broken and were held together by some sort of tape. In fact, Ron thought that the boy's best feature was his eyes, which he had noticed right away. They were the most intense shade of emerald green that Ron had ever seen in his life. But whether this boy was the Harry Potter or not Ron couldn't tell. The boy's forehead was covered by his bangs, so Ron couldn't see if he bore the legendary lightning scar. But he wondered why should he bother looking? This boy looked like just a regular orphan – or, as Ron's Uncle Thomas would have called him, a savage – not some all-powerful wizard.

Ron sat across from him anyway. After all, the boy was sitting alone and maybe Ron could ask some questions, see if this boy was the real deal. But before Ron could stop himself, he blurted out, "Are you really Harry Potter?" He'd felt so ashamed and so stupid, but the dark haired boy had merely nodded. That didn't entirely convince Ron. True, the boy may have been called Harry Potter, but that didn't mean he was the Boy Who Lived. So Ron asked the most obvious question. And in the moment Harry had pulled backs his bangs to reveal the lightning bolt scar, Ron's doubts had vanished. He really was the famous Harry Potter.

While talking to him on the train, Ron managed to find that Harry was just a regular eleven year old like him. He had only just found out he was famous and it seemed to disturb him. Ron understood and was sympathetic. Before either of them knew it, Ron Weasley and Harry Potter were best friends.

But bad luck seemed to follow Harry whenever he went. Ron had been terrified when Harry's Nimbus Two Thousand had been jinxed during Harry's very first Quidditch match. While Harry had seemed okay afterwards, Ron could tell that he had been shaken up about it. When Harry had found the Mirror of Erised, Ron had sensed something was wrong. It was almost as if the image of Mr. and Mrs. Potter that was shown to Harry in the mirror had hypnotized him. His eyes had been glazed over for days and he barely ate or slept. When Snape was going to be refereeing the match between Gryffindor and Hufflepuff, Ron had thoroughly convinced himself that Harry was never going to live through it and it scared him. It was no wonder he had tackled Draco Malfoy when he'd insulted them at the match.

The last thing that happened that year was the Sorcerer's Stone incident. Hermione and Ron had been waiting impatiently just outside the third floor corridor for the headmaster and Harry to return, hopefully with the stone in hand. Suddenly, Professor Dumbledore had hurried out through the door, Harry unconscious and deathly white in his arms. None of them spoke as they hurried to the hospital wing a floor above them and once they'd gotten there, Madam Pomfrey set right to work on trying to help the weak boy. Dumbledore looked very worried and it scared Ron more than anything. Madam Pomfrey came out a few minutes later and explained that Harry had used so much of his own energy that there was a strong possibility that he would never recover. Only Hermione had gone down to the Quidditch Final that year; Ron had refused to leave Harry's bedside, just incase he did pass. Fortunately, Harry had awoken two days after the Final.

Throughout their dangerous adventures, every time Harry got hurt, Ron found that his concern and anxiety over his best friend grew stronger. But then other things happened as well. In second year, when Harry had saved Ginny from the basilisk and Riddle, Ron felt an unexplainable feeling that he believed to be simply relief that his little sister was all right and gratitude towards her rescuer. In the third year, when Harry had found out his parents had died because someone they were close to had betrayed them, he had closed the curtains to his bed and pretended to be asleep when Ron had entered the dormitory, a sign that he didn't want to talk about it. Ron fell asleep grudgingly and when he woke up the next morning, he pulled back the curtains to find Harry had finally dozed off. Ron reached out with his left hand and was inches from Harry's forehead when he stopped short, realizing that he was unconsciously going to run his fingers through the black unruly hair.

That had to be the very first indication that Ron had feelings for Harry, but he was way too young to understand. The November before he turned fifteen, the time period that he and Harry were fighting between Harry becoming a Triwizard Champion and the First Task of the tournament, Ron had finally figured it out. But he didn't understand how he could be fond of Harry while he also had a huge crush on their other best friend. There was only one possibility.

He was bisexual.

At first, Ron was scared to death. He tried to deny how he felt about Harry. They would just make the relationship more complicated than it all ready was. But then Ron saw the dragons that the four Triwizard champions would be facing and in that moment, his whole perspective changed. So what if he fancied Harry? It didn't matter. He would find a way to hide it and make sure no one figured it out. Fortunately, his other crush was starting to date and that pulled his attention away from Harry for the time being.

Ron laid Harry back down on the covers and, after a moment's hesitation, laid down right next to him, but didn't get under the covers with him. If Hermione were to walk in, she would hopefully mistake it for a gesture of concern for a friend and not unrequited passion for what could never be.

But Harry was the first to wake up the next morning. It was nine thirty, shortly after breakfast time at the Dursley house. He turned over and found Ron sleeping next to him. He remembered the dream and suddenly realized that he must have mistaken Ron for Sirius in the dark. He gave a small smile and slid out of bed to get dressed. As he walked silently out of the room, closing the bedroom door behind him, he saw Hermione coming out of the guest bedroom.

"Harry. Good morning. How'd you sleep?" she asked.

"All right," Harry lied. "How 'bout you?"

"Pretty good," she said. "Ron still asleep?"

"Yeah, he is." Harry started down the stairs, Hermione right behind him. He reached the landing and started for the kitchen. He heard the television on in the living room, so that meant that Dudley was in there.

When the two of them entered the kitchen, they saw that it was abandoned. Aunt Petunia was in the garden in the backyard, Dudley was definitely in the living room, and Uncle Vernon was at work. So Harry went directly to the refrigerator and opened the door. He pulled out the milk, the orange juice, and the eggs. He went into the cabinets and pulled down the cereal. Finally, Harry located the bacon and pulled out the pots and pans. He knew that Ron and Hermione would be looking forward to a full breakfast like the past few days and Harry didn't want them to know how it usually was at number four Privet Drive.

"Harry, you don't have to make a big show just to pretend like everything's normal," said Hermione, seeing right through him. "Now what's going on?"

Harry sighed, turning on the stove and preparing to cook the eggs and bacon. "The truth is that last night, Uncle Vernon told me that Aunt Petunia wasn't going to be cooking for anyone who wasn't her family anymore."

"But you're part of her family," said Hermione, confused.

"Well, apparently they're all ready preparing to write me out of their lives forever," said Harry in a bitter voice. He wouldn't be seventeen for several more weeks yet and they were all ready acting like he didn't exist. Of course, they hadn't been too thrilled when Ron and Hermione showed up at their front door, either, but as both of them were old enough to perform magic outside of school, Harry made it seem like they didn't have much choice in the matter, which might have caused this sudden revolution.

After a few minutes, Ron came into the kitchen, fully dressed. "Blimey, I'm starving."

"So what else is new?" said Hermione with a roll of her eyes. She was all ready reading that morning's copy of the Daily Prophet.

"Anyone we know been killed?" Ron asked as he sat down at the table beside her.

"Nothing. Everything's been quiet since Dumbledore's funeral," she said, folding up the paper as Harry placed two plates of eggs and bacon on the table. She looked slightly impressed while Ron looked stunned.

"Since when do you cook?" he asked Harry incredulously.

"Eat up before it gets cold," said Harry, ignoring the question. The truth was that Harry had known how to cook since he was old enough to reach the stove. Aunt Petunia had always demanded that he do the cooking and save her the trouble of having to work in the kitchen when her son needed her undivided attention.

Harry turned back to the counter where he had left his plate and saw Dudley walking slowly into the kitchen, his eyes watching Ron and Hermione cautiously. Harry had half-expected this. He went over to the stove as Dudley approached him.

"Hey, they're not gonna do anything, right?" he whispered softly. "I mean, if I demand that you give me your breakfast, they won't try to hurt me, will they?"

"Well, there are laws against that, of course, but only Hermione would think before she acted. Don't expect Ron to be that understanding," said Harry without looking at him. "However, I can't prove you did anything if I didn't see you do it, Dud, so you might as well take the plate while my back is still facing you."

Whether Dudley's small brain comprehended this or not, Harry couldn't say. But his cousin took the plate off the counter and ran from the room as fast as his porky legs could go. The sight made Ron and Hermione look up from their meals.

"What was that about?" asked Hermione.

"Nothing, just Dudley being his usual self," said Harry as he pulled four pieces of toast out of the toaster. He walked over to Ron and Hermione and handed them each a piece of toast, keeping two for himself. A very typical breakfast for him around the Dursley household.

"T'anks, ma'e," said Ron through a full mouth, which made Hermione wince.

"Aren't you going to eat anything else?" asked Hermione, watching Harry go back over to the stove to clean up.

"No, I'm not very hungry," Harry lied again as his stomach gave a small gurgle. "I'm just gonna clean up here and go back upstairs."

Ron continued to eat as Harry started washing the dishes, which meant that neither of them noticed Hermione's frown. As soon as Harry was finished, he left the room. As soon as he was gone, Hermione said, "Did something happen last night?"

"Well, it was the first time Harry slept since we got here, if that's what you mean?" said Ron. They heard a door slam suddenly. "What was that?"

"I don't think Harry went upstairs," said Hermione with a sigh. "So Harry actually fell asleep?"

"Yeah and he ended up having a nightmare." Ron took some more eggs off the plate before him. "I don't know what it was about, but it really shook him up."

"Did he tell you anything about it after he woke up?" asked Hermione.

"No, he was still half-asleep. Thought I was Sirius."

Hermione didn't look too surprised by that news. In fact, she appeared to have been expecting that. "The dream must have been about Sirius, then."

"But shouldn't he have come to grips with it? After all, it has been a year," said Ron.

Hermione shook her head. "No, I wouldn't have expected him to. He barely spoke about Sirius at all last year and whenever one of us brought it up, Harry abruptly changed the subject. And Dumbledore's death couldn't have helped. If anything, it just made it worse."

"So what do we do?" asked Ron, putting down his fork.

"Nothing. We don't want to overwhelm him or he'll never talk to us. We have to be patient. Sooner or later, Harry's going to need someone to talk to and we'll have to be there for him," she said as Dudley came back into the kitchen warily.

***

Harry hadn't felt like staying inside anymore, and so he walked out of number four Privet Drive and slammed the door behind him by accident. He was lost in thought, so his feet took him to all his favorite haunts from the previous summers by themselves. He soon found himself in the crowded play park a few blocks away from Privet Drive. He went over to the swings and sat down upon them.

It had been less than a week since Professor Dumbledore's funeral. Harry hadn't been able to officially cry for the headmaster yet. True, he had almost done so at the funeral, but he'd fought it off then. He didn't really want anyone to see him have a complete and total meltdown. While he had never told anyone, Harry had always thought of the elderly man as being the greatest wizard that he had ever known. And though he hated to admit it in front of everybody, Harry had always sort of known that he had been one of Dumbledore's favorite students and had taken pride in it. And Dumbledore had also been like Harry's mentor of sorts, especially after the previous year that they spent going back through Voldemort's past.

Why the thought of Ginny Weasley entered his mind now was incomprehensible to him. He'd been utterly depressed since the funeral, his mind so full of thoughts of Dumbledore's death and Sirius' death the previous year, to think about the youngest Weasley over the last couple of days. So why did it suddenly come up now? Yes, he missed her. Yes, he was still hopelessly in love with her. But they could never be, not while Voldemort was still alive.

Harry sighed and stood up. He suddenly didn't want to be in the park alone. He figured that Ron and Hermione would be worried about him right about now. Ron had had enough time to tell Hermione about the dream. So he decided to head back to number four.

BANG!

Harry was so preoccupied, he barely registered the people screaming around him. He stopped walking. He could feel pain from just above his abdomen. But why would he be feeling pain there?

It wasn't a very cloudy day and the sun shone blindingly into Harry's eyes. But why could he suddenly see the sky? Was he lying on the ground? And whose voices were those nearby? Who's hand was pressing against the sharp pain on his stomach, making it intensify? Faces hovered above his, but they were all darkened by the sun shining directly overhead.

"Hang in there…" a man's voice echoed, as if Harry had heard him speaking in a cave.

"One of the women in the crowd is a neighbor of his. Says he lives on Privet Drive at number four. Goes by the name Harry Potter," said another male voice.

The sky started to grow duller. Harry could feel the corners of his mind becoming sluggish, beckoning sleep. His eyes slowly began to close…

***

It was late in the day. Very late. Mr. Dursley had just returned from Grunnings, his drill company. It was nearly dinner time, and Ron and Hermione were worried. Harry still hadn't come back yet. More than once, Ron had suggested that "You-Know-Who" had kidnapped him, but Hermione shot him down right away.

"Harry told us that he was safe here. Dumbledore had trusted in old magic that would protect him while he was here until his seventeenth birthday, so there is no way Voldemort --"

Ron instantly flinched and Hermione heaved a heavy sigh. "Oh, come off it, Ron. You're gonna have to say the name sometime. Dumbledore said it."

"Dumbledore wasn't afraid of him," Ron interjected.

"Well, then, Harry says it. All the time. As do I now."

"Harry's not afraid of him, either. And I would expect you to say it."

"You're wrong, Ron," said Hermione with a slight shake of her head. "Of course Harry's afraid of him. How could he not be, when he is the one who must destroy him or be destroyed by him?"

The telephone rang quite suddenly, startling Ron and Hermione both. Mrs. Dursley got up and went over to answer it. "Hello? … Yes, he does. Is something wrong? …" (Ron and Hermione glanced at each other anxiously.) "Yes. Yes, I understand. … Thank you." She hung up the phone and turned to her family and her nephew's best friends.

"Who was it, Petunia?" asked Mr. Dursley.

"The hospital," said Mrs. Dursley gravely. "Harry's been shot."

***

The Dursley family was going to drive over to the hospital, but Ron and Hermione had a much quicker way of doing it. Hermione Apparated over to the hospital with Ron hanging on to her arm, as he didn't yet have his Apparition license yet. They ran down the hospital corridor and ran to the nurses' station. Ron couldn't help but look around. He had never been in a Muggle hospital before.

"Excuse me," Hermione said to the closest nurse. "You called our friend's aunt a little while ago. His name's Harry Potter."

The nurse checked her charts. "Yes. He's still in Trauma One."

"Let's go," said Ron, starting to move.

"We can't, it's restricted," Hermione said, grabbing his arm. She turned back to the nurse. "Is he okay?"

"A doctor will be with you shortly. Just go on down to the waiting room," the nurse said, pointing down the hall.

Ron and Hermione nodded and turned to go. But then Ron had a second thought and turned down the hall to Trauma One. With a slight gasp, Hermione looked around nervously, noticed no one was watching, and then followed him.

They found Harry in a private room on the left. Doctors and nurses were surrounding him.

"Pulse seventy, weak," said one doctor.

"I need some numbers, people," said what looked like to be the main doctor. He was examining an area near Harry's stomach. From what Ron could see, Harry was wearing no shirt and his entire stomach was covered in his own blood. "Small entry wound, abdomen."

"No exit wound. The bullet's still in there," said the first doctor again.

"Tell the O.R. we're coming in," said the main doctor.

"You got it, Gene." A blonde nurse ran right past Ron and Hermione without giving them a second glance.

Hermione's hand sought comfort and found Ron's hand. He took it without question and gave it a reassuring squeeze, watching the main doctor put a strange device to Harry's chest.

"What is that?" Ron asked quietly.

"It's called a stethoscope," whimpered Hermione. "It allows the doctors to listen to the heart and lungs."

"Lungs failing. Start an I.V. Get me two units of O positive stat," the main doctor said, pulling away.

"Right away," said one of the brunette nurses.

"Get four cc's of adrenalin," said a second doctor.

"Yes, sir," said a second brunette nurse.

A loud sound made them all turn. Ron saw that one of the monitors that had been showing zigzagging lines was suddenly showing a straight line and letting out a long BEEP. For some reason, this made Hermione panic.

"Oh, God," she gasped as tears flowed freely down her cheeks.

"Full arrest. Paddles," commanded the second doctor. The other two doctors went over and brought over some sort of machine. The second doctor picked up the paddles that were attached to it by a spiral wire. "Gel," he said and the first nurse squirted some sort of gel onto the paddles, which he then rubbed together and placed directly onto Harry's chest. "Clear!"

The other doctors and the nurses stood back. Ron heard a noise like an electrical surge and Harry's body jolted. Ron nearly cried out in shock as Harry fell limp once again. The monitor didn't stop it's beep or it's line.

"Recharge," the second doctor said tensely.

"Recharging," said a nurse as the first doctor noticed that Ron and Hermione were watching from the door. He went over to them and tried to usher them from the room, but very half-heartedly, and when they didn't leave, he stopped trying and just stood by them.

"Clear!" said the second doctor again. This time, Ron was prepared for Harry's body to react to the electrical surge that went through him. Harry fell limp again as all eyes went to the monitor. Nothing changed. The loud beep was constant and the line was just as straight.

Ron looked around the room. The doctors and nurses looked dejected. Hermione started crying harder. Finally, he was able to comprehend what was happening.

The first doctor turned to Ron and Hermione. "I'm sorry."

"Call it," said the main doctor. A nurse picked up a chart and wrote what the doctor said next. "Time of death: six fifteen p.m."

Hermione's tears turned to uncontrollable hysteria as she turned to bury her head in Ron's chest. Ron held her close, tears streaming down his own face. It couldn't be happening. Harry couldn't be gone…

"Again."

Everyone in the room turned to look at the second doctor. Even Ron and Hermione looked at his determined face.

"Carter --" began the main doctor.

"I said 'again!'" snarled Carter, glaring at the main doctor.

The main doctor didn't move. "Carter, it's over," he said firmly.

Carter stared at him for a moment. Then he turned to the paddle machine and recharged it himself. He put the paddles back to Harry's chest. "Clear!" he said forcefully.

Once again, Harry's body jerked from the electrical surge that coursed through him. For a third time, he fell limp. But something changed. Ron did not hear one beep from the monitor, but many beeps evenly spaced out. He looked up at it to see that the zigzagging lines had returned. Hermione gasped sharply.

"We got him," said Carter with a grin. He looked back at the main doctor. "Gene, why don't you ever trust me?"

The main doctor chose to ignore this. "Let's get him up to the O.R." he said as they prepared to get moving.

The first doctor turned to Ron and Hermione. "Come on. I'll take you to the waiting room," he said, escorting them out. They walked down the corridor and came to a room with sofas and chairs. "You two wait here."

"What about Harry? Will he be okay?" asked Ron as Hermione wiped tears away from her face.

"I can't tell you that. The truth is, he's not out of the woods yet. And the longer it takes us, the weaker he's going to become," said the doctor grimly. Upon seeing the looks upon Ron and Hermione's faces, he added, "Doctor Carter and Doctor Lawrence are the best in this hospital. He's in good hands." The doctor paused. "I'll keep you informed. By the way, my name's Doctor Henderson." He walked away from the waiting room and headed back towards Trauma One.

Ron and Hermione sat down on the sofa nearby. Neither of them spoke for a little while. Then, when Ron could take the silence no longer, he turned to look at Hermione. "I'm scared," he admitted quietly.

Hermione looked up at him and nodded. "I know. Me too," she said quietly.

"What do we do?" asked Ron.

"There's nothing we can do but wait and pray that he'll be okay," said Hermione. She leaned gently against Ron, inhaling the spicy scent she had come to associate with Ron's presence. She'd had to cut herself short from saying it the year before in Slughorn's first potions lesson. She felt his arm wrap around her, pulling her closer as Harry's relatives arrived.

It was about an hour later when Henderson returned. Both Ron and Hermione stood up, but he would only acknowledge the Dursleys now. "Are you Mr. and Mrs. Dursley?" he asked.

"Yes," said Mr. Dursley, standing up.

"How is he?" asked Hermione.

"Harry's out of surgery, but he's still in critical condition. There's still a chance that he's never going to wake up, but we're pretty hopeful," said Henderson. "You can see him now if you want. Uh, family only," he added when Ron and Hermione started to move.

"Actually, I think that Harry would rather the two of them were there when he woke up, not us," said Mrs. Dursley, looking at Ron and Hermione. Hermione smiled and mouthed "Thank you" to her.

Henderson nodded and lead the two into a private recovery room. As soon as Henderson left the room, Ron and Hermione went to either side of Harry's bed. Ron noticed that there were many tubes connected to his arms and a clear tube was connected to Harry's nostrils. Hermione explained that these "IV's" were providing Harry with the necessary oxygen, blood, and medicines that he needed. They looked at him in silence for a moment, holding his hands. Hermione was stroking his midnight hair gently with her other hand. Ron had rested his other hand gently on the bed near Harry's pillow.

"We're here, Harry, right beside you," said Hermione gently after a while, hoping that maybe he would wake up if they started talking.

"Can you hear us?" Ron asked softly, but Harry gave no indication that he had.

"Harry, listen to me, you have got to wake up," said Hermione.

"Don't leave us," Ron whispered.

"You can do it," Hermione urged.

"We need you," added Ron.

"Open your eyes," said Hermione, looking up at Ron to see tears in his eyes.

"Come back to us." Ron's voice shook with every syllable and the tears began to fall.

A moment passed in silence. Then, as they watched, Harry's eyes opened. He blinked once and then stared up at the figures above him.

"Harry?" asked Hermione hopefully.

He smiled upon recognizing the voice of one of the fuzzy figures. "Hermione," he whispered weakly.

Ron and Hermione grinned and sighed in relief. "Are you okay?" Ron asked, releasing Harry's hand quickly.

Harry nodded slowly. "Yeah, I'm okay," he said.

Hermione gave him a small hug, kissing his cheek before she pulled away. She went to go get a doctor and Ron stayed with Harry. By the time Hermione returned with Carter, Harry had fallen asleep.