"Over here."
"Well, let's see what we have here... Ooh, a nasty little cut, isn't it? Well, follow me, Harvey. We'll have that all fixed up in no time. But... well, we'll see what made it soon."
Harry followed the kindly looking healer to a dingy gray room with no other occupant.
The healer told him to sit down and wait for Django. Harry sat down on a lumpy cot and began to count the tiles on the floor. He was about to count the eighty-seventh when a tall young man with caramel hair appeared at the doorway.
"Mr. Parker?" he asked, checking his clipboard. Harry nodded.
"Well, Mr. Parker, let's see what you've got there," Django said, approaching Harry and conjuring an armboard with his wand. "Hold out your arm. Yes, I see. Looks like a hex mark to me."
Harry wasn't really paying attention. He felt numb inside, still suffering from the aftershock of today's events. He was vaguely aware of Django lecturing him about dangerous hexes, but he already had his fair share of that.
Django stood up and walked to a glass shelf by the walls. He picked up a small jar that held a thick orange liquid. He strode back to Harry and applied the contents to his green cut.
It felt like hot paste that burned right through the skin. It set Harry's insides on fire, he didn't like this orange paste. But as he was fidgeting, the greenish tinge of the cut began to ease, though it looked kind of yellowish. Then, Django poured some sapphire blue liquids over the paste, and the burning immediately ceased and the paste disappeared. What remained was a long yellow cut.
"Funny," Django said, frowning. He didn't look like he really found it funny or amusing. "That should've healed it up completely. Well, Harvey, maybe you should stay over the night. I'll inform your friends."
Django eggressed and left Harry there, deeply engulfed in his thoughts. He could hear the voices outside...
"May we visit him?"
"Not right now, maybe the potions will take effect soon. I'd give it about an hour or two, and you may enter."
Great. A whole hour. Harry had a whole hour to himself, to lose his mind, to lose himself completely in his thoughts. Now he understood what people meant when they said that going back in time messes with your brain.
He stood up and stretched his legs, pacing around the small room. Forward, back, turn, forward, back, turn. He never really understood the art of pacing, but somehow, it did help.
He wondered what James and Sirius were feeling right now. They were probably shocked out of their minds. Maybe they were mad at Harry, for causing this kind of ruckus.
Oh, bloody hell no.
He couldn't have his father and godfather mad at him! He had to find a way to make it up to them. Harry's steps grew faster and shorter as his thoughts wandered around.
Maybe he should stay with Dumbledore for the rest of his stay, as far from the Potters and Sirius as possible. He couldn't bring himself to cause them any more trouble. He had to leave them.
But then again, they were happy to have him here...
They were, weren't they?
Harry's thoughts were getting muddled and mixed up. Did he really know what James and Sirius were feeling? What if they hated him? What if this was all a show?
No, Harry thought. No, it wasn't all a show. He felt it in his veins. They loved him. There were certain moments when Harry felt that strong love crashing down on him.
When he was diving for the cave on his Firebolt and felt his father slipping off, he had yelled desperately for James to hold on. James immediately tightened his grip and held on, knowing Harry was his son... knowing how he couldn't die now...
They definitely didn't hate him. There was no way.
He sat down and buried his head in his hands, massaging his temples vigorously. He wanted to stay, but he couldn't endanger their lives like that. After all, if they died, he probably wouldn't even be born.
So, what to choose? Stay and endanger their lives, or suffer far away and alone?
Before he could make his choice, the doorknob clicked and in came Sirius and James.
They looked like they had aged years in a day's time. They were tired, worn out and very stressed. Messed up hair (though for James, it didn't really make a difference), dark circles under the eyes, looking very weak...
Harry never wanted to see them like that.
-oOo-
Short look into Harry's thoughts ;D
