The Missing Boy
Chapter Nine
Harry wanted to go back to sleep, his eyelids felt like lead. But Sirius was there, and so were Professor Lupin and Hermione. He hadn't seen them for a year; they were a sight for sore eyes … very sore eyes …
Harry opened his mouth to say something, but no sound came out. He frowned and tried again. Why can't I talk? he wondered. His frown deepened and he tried to sit up, only for his eyes to scrunch up in pain. Maybe I'll stay put … he decided as he lowered himself back to the bed.
"How are you, Harry?" Hermione asked quietly. Remus and Sirius were too busy discussing their 'age' to notice.
Harry, once again, tried to speak.
"Don't strain yourself, Harry, your voice will return soon enough. You've damaged your throat," Madam Pomfrey's voice interrupted, and Harry turned his gaze to her.
She was looking at him with sad eyes … She knows something … something she doesn't want to have to tell anyone. She noticed his gaze and quickly turned away. Harry felt his stomach tighten. Especially me.
"Harry?" Hermione's timid voice brought his mind back to what she was saying. Harry heard the sheets crimple and looked down. Hermione's hand was threaded through his own. Why is Hermione holding my hand? Harry frowned. That is my hand, right? He tried to move his fingers. He saw them twitch … the cold grip of unease began to tighten around his mind. Why can't I feel my hand?
Before he could stop it, another memory slipped through his mind …
He was lying on the grimy floor, his breath shallow and rasping, his fists half clenching at his sides … what? Harry forced his eyes open and looked at his hands. They were quivering though he couldn't feel the movement. He frowned and tried to close his fist again. He couldn't. His fingers only twitched and started to curl before they stopped.
"What's wrong with my hands?" he tried to say. But it came out as a hoarse groan. Madam Pomfrey tutted,
"What did I say?" she asked coming forward.
Harry frowned. Something was wrong with his hands and he wanted to know what it was!
"What is wrong with my hands?" he tried again, but once again the sound that came out of his mouth was far from words.
"Try writing it down, Harry," Hermione said as she leant down and scrounged through her bag with one hand. The other was still in Harry's. A moment later she emerged with a piece of parchment and a quill. She passed them to him with a small smile.
Harry tried to sit up again but Poppy quickly swished her wand and did it for him. Harry wasn't sure if he was angry or happy she had helped him. Mentally shrugging it off he went to pick up the quill.
"What's he doing?" Sirius asked, making Madam Pomfrey jump and edge away quickly.
Harry looked up at him, wishing he could say, 'I'm right here ya know? I can hear you,' but not bothering to try. He knew the results he would get.
He lifted his arm slowly; it was already trembling with strain. Despite that he still reached for the quill, only for his numb fingers to bump into it. He scowled at his own hand, not bothering to stop even though the muscles in his face were complaining (loudly and painfully) to cease. He couldn't feel the quill, even though his fingers were touching it. He forced his hand to obey him and curl around the feather.
"Harry?" Hermione asked slowly. Harry ignored her. He was determined (to a fault) to pick up the quill and write his question. His fingers fumbled and groped at the thin quill clumsily. But they just couldn't bend enough, he couldn't do it. He stopped for a moment, looking at the feather dumbly. He'd never not been able to do something when he tried hard enough … never. Anger flared in his chest and he slammed his loosely formed fist over the quill.
"What's wrong with his hands?" Sirius asked slowly. Harry looked up at him, trying to get his godfather to understand he was trying to ask the same question.
"That's what Harry's trying to say, isn't it, Harry?" Hermione said, catching on. Harry turned to her and nodded. He stopped quickly; the movement caused his vision to spin and his head to throb.
"Lie back down, Harry, you need to rest," Poppy said gently. Harry scowled and remained upright. Even though his head was still pounding he knew she was stalling. She knew what was wrong.
Everyone in the room was looking intently at the Healer.
Suddenly the hospital wing doors opened to reveal a greasy-haired Potions master, who looked around the room with loathing. He didn't want to be there, that much was obvious. His black eyes finally reached Sirius and his lips pursed. He quickly turned his eyes on Poppy.
"Albus has instructed me to give you another flask of Fraygen," he said stiffly as he reached into the voluminous sleeves of his black robes and took out a small bottle of purple liquid. Abruptly he flinched and dropped the bottle to the floor where it smashed, as he gripped his forearm tightly.
Harry screamed.
-oOo-
Sirius watched in horror as Harry began to claw at his chest, his face twisted in agony. His fingers tore at his pyjama top, ripping the buttons away and revealing his bandaged torso. Sirius saw Harry's fingers bend into grotesque shapes as whatever pain he was in intensified. As he was still gouging at the bandages, Sirius could see blood beginning to seep through the whiteness his son was tearing away. And suddenly the bandages were gone, and Harry's bare chest was free to view. Sirius felt his heart stop. The Dark Mark was branded into his son's flesh. It was bleeding freely, it was bruised and weeping. The skull's snake tongue was moving, and a black vapour was also rising off it in sinister shimmering waves. Sirius was on his feet. He didn't know when he had stood but he was standing now, and running at Snape.
"WHAT DID YOU DO TO HIM? YOU BASTARD! WHAT DID YOU DO?" Sirius roared. There was no mistaking why so many people had thought Sirius was capable of murder. The look burning in his grey eyes could kill, and if he had had his way, it would have.
"PADFOOT! STOP!" Remus shouted as he restrained his friend. Sirius tried to get away from Moony's grip, but the werewolf was unsurprisingly strong.
"Sirius! Stop it! Now!" Remus hissed, and Padfoot fell still. All of his energy was gone. The only sound in the room was Harry's yells of pain, his short, sharp gasps of breath … and Hermione's crying.
"Let me go, Remus," Sirius said through gritted teeth. His godson was in pain. He was yelling; he needed him … Slowly Remus let go. But it was Snivellus who had caused his godson that pain. Sirius dived at Snape, knocking him to the ground.
"PADFOOT!" Remus howled. And Sirius felt his friend try to pry him off Snape. But Sirius was busy … busy causing as much pain as he could to his old school enemy.
-oOo-
(edited 1-Oct-2006 - td4)