The doctors and nurses at St. Mungo's had not been able to do any more than force a Re-energising potion down his throat before Harry Potter pushed past them, ignoring their cries of "Just wait a second, Mr Potter!" and made his way to the intensive care ward. There he found the rest of his family sitting round another plain, ordinary, sterile hospital bed, but this one was painfully different to Harry. Lying in the bed, wearing the striped hospital pyjamas, was the small and vulnerable form of his son's unconscious body. It was at this moment, watching his son look so peaceful, that Harry truly realised how young and innocent his children still were, untouched by the horrors of war that had left his own eyes full with the maturity of someone much older and wiser.
"What happened to him?" he growled at the nurse, who had come in to check on the patient.
"I-I'm afraid we don't know exactly, sir," said the nurse, somewhat taken aback by the venom in Harry's voice. "He was hit by an unidentified but powerful Dark curse, and we didn't want to wake him yet. We've given him a Blood-replenishing potion, but we-we fear the damage may be permanent."
Harry strode forwards and ripped open the thin cotton of the pyjama shirt. A red gash was slashed across his chest, the wound still open and soaking into the fabric. Harry repaired the top with a shaking hand, before collapsing into a chair and placing his head in his hands.
"It's my entire fault," Harry's muffled voice coming from between his fingers. "I should have tried harder to protect him, all of you."
"That's rubbish and you know it, Harry James Potter," replied Ginny in a tone that forbade any argument. "I should have been watching all of them, but I failed, and James got hurt. If it's anybody's fault it's mine."
"No it isn't," protested Albus. "I was the one who wasn't looking where I was going and tripped. If I hadn't been so stupid, we would have escaped easily. I'm sorry, James."
"You're all being idiots," stated Lily matter-of-factly. "It's the guy who cursed him who is to blame. There's no use getting cut up about it, because that's not going to help anyone, and you know it. James didn't sacrifice himself for us to argue over his bedside about who's to blame!"
There was silence, before Albus' small voice spoke up. "Lily's right. We need to help James all we can if he's to get better."