A/N: Reviewers. My thanks. They have them.
Now, details, details, details. Something never explicitly mentioned, or that I never noticed, is when exactly the school year ends. I have heard some of fandom say the year is ten months long, others that it is nine. I'm going to say that it starts on the obviousness of September 1st's Opening Feast, and runs until May 31st's Leaving Feast, with the students leaving the next day, on June 1st.
Now as for the two separate holidays, and the three terms. Winter hols run from December 22nd (or the preceding day if that falls upon a Sunday) until January 1st (or the following day if that falls upon a Saturday). That makes the first term run from September 2nd to December 21st. The second term starts on January 2nd and runs until March 21st. Spring hols last from the 22nd to the March 31st, once again taking into account how the weekends work. The third term starts on April first and runs until May 31st. This gives the first term 111 days, making it the longest. Second term runs 79 days, and the last for only 61.
The devil truly is in the details, and I had to exorcize it. Plus my attention tends to lock onto things that interest me, and won't let go until it gets bored. You are all lucky that this story doesn't stop here for a while and pickup in the middle someplace. (8/20/10 - 8/21/10)
Chapter 11: After a Nap, or Ten
The very first thing Harry was aware of when he woke up was pain. It felt vaguely like that time Dudley had pushed him down the stairs and then trodden on him. He then really woke up, and he felt like he was pain, molded rather roughly into a human shape. After groaning rather loudly in pain for about a minute, Harry felt someone pour something down his throat. Maybe it was poison and would put him out of his misery.
Nope, it just made the pain go away. Mostly. He could work with that. He cracked an eye lid open and saw, in order, some random person in Healer's robes, Perenelle, and Alistair. He grumbled incoherently for a few minutes, cracked the other eye open and saw Nicolas and what looked like a room partition in the form of a curtain.
As the pain ebbed further away, he hauled himself into something vaguely resembling a sitting position, and the unknown Healer scurried off, and he said, "Did anyone get the number of that train that ran me over?"
Alistair chuckled and said, "You're the one that agreed with me and said the quick and brutal way was better. By the way, you've been down for almost seventy two hours."
Harry grunted at that, and then poked his abdomen with his finger. "What have they got to eat in this place?"
Nicolas shook his head mirth at that, Perenelle rolled her eyes, and Alistair chuckled again. Harry had the vague though of getting him to trademark those. They could be worth a fortune.
"We'll see what the Healer has to say when she gets here. For now, just try not to push yourself. "
All he did in response was grunt.
Nicolas smirked and said, "Well if you can promise to stay in bed, I think there are a pair of people you'd like to meet."
Blinking and looking at the man like he was crazy, Harry shrugged, and leaned back into the bed.
Standing, and with an overly florid bow, Nicolas grandly said, "Then if I may present, fresh from a ten year long performance at Azkaban, Sirius Black, and accompanying, his good friend, and a good friend of James Potter, Remus Lupin." And he drew back the curtain to reveal two men, one on another bed, the other sitting in a chair next to it. They were both grinning like fools and they eyes were lit with mirth.
The one on the bed looked like Harry had felt sometimes at the Dursleys, starved and battered; he had long black hair that was only half way recovered from whatever disaster it had met.
The other man could only be described as looking careworn. His brown hair was flecked with gray, and his face was creased with worry. His clothes were rather shabby.
Harry, in no mood for amusement, grunted, and bluntly said, "So which are you amused at, the grandstanding, or the fact you get to meet me?"
The two shared a long look, and said, in unison, "Both!"
Harry smacked himself in the forehead with both palms, he also couldn't help but grin at this pair of fools, "I thought you were supposed to be in Azkaban. How did they, whoever they are, get you out so quick?"
This time it was Sirius's turn to grunt, "The DMLE, as soon as they got a copy of your parents' will, and references to exactly which laws made Pettigrew a rat, well, they fast tracked the case to trial, declared Peter guilty in absentia, with a penalty of death as soon as he is captured. When that was handled, there was no choice but for them to give me the trial I never had, and under truth potion, was found innocent. That was this morning. So when your guardians heard I was being brought into St. Mungo's for observation to see whether or not I was healthy and sane enough to return to polite society, they somehow managed to get me into the second bed in this room."
Remus took this a cue to explain why he was here, "And when Sirius's owl that said he was sharing a room with James's long lost son came, I couldn't help but come for a visit."
Harry looked at each of them, and then said, "Hrmph. Okay then, how did you two know my dad?"
Sirius's eyes lit up with glee, "The three of us had been inseparable since first year in Hogwarts."
Tying a few threads of logic together, Harry couldn't help but ask, "So which of you two and Pettigrew were Moony, Padfoot, and Wormtail?"
Harry had half anticipated the looks of shock he got, but he couldn't understand the awe that was tinged in it.
Remus was the first to regain the capacity for speech, "How do you know those names?"
Harry jerked a thumb at Alistair, and said, "That tatty guy there pointed me in the direction of the current holders of the Marauder's Map, and he also pointed out the phrase that would active what seemed more or less a 'legacy' mode."
They were once again stuck dumb and could only seem to stare at the hat. Harry decided to try to get them talking again, "Hey, for a pair of legendary pranksters, you seem to be speechless a little too often for my liking. So fess up, who is who?"
Sirius tossed a pillow at Harry, who grabbed it from midair and threw it back at him, and hit him in face. Remus with grunt of a laugh said, "I'm Moony, pillow-face there is Padfoot and..."
Harry finished darkly, "Wormtail is a fitting name for a traitor."
Healer Tonks choose that particular moment to walk in the door, and she came over to Harry's bed and cast spells for about five minutes before she was satisfied with whatever she was checking, and said, "Okay, we are going to start the process to get you discharged, but when you get home, I don't want you getting out of bed until Friday, and then I don't want you doing anything more strenuous than walking around the house until Saturday, maybe Sunday. You should be all set to resume classes at Hogwarts on Monday."
As she turned to leave the room, Sirius shouted, "Hey Andy, nothing to say to your favorite cousin?"
She whirled on the spot, with a look of surprise on her face, "Siri? I heard you were getting a trial, but I thought it wouldn't be for a while... I have a lot on my plate right now, but make sure you write me. With Bella having had an actual trial and having confessed, and Cissy's husband being a... Malfoy, I don't have an over abundance of family."
"Sure thing Andy, we'll have to get together for dinner or something soon."
"I'd like that Siri." She then left the room.
Harry had decided to take a nap. He had had no interest in that conversation.
Harry was released from the hospital an hour and a half later, and the trip home seemed to take what little energy he had. They managed to get some potions and food in him before he curled up in bed and passed out. Thursday was spent reading in bed, Harry having deduced, with agreement from Alistair, nothing strenuous meant a complete break from Occlumency. He kept reading, and finished children's version of Beedle's Tales. He had taken a large number of naps. Sometime around when he had lunch Nicolas came in with three more books that he recommended Harry read. Two were both simply titled, 'The Hogwarts Charter and Its Amendments' and 'The Rules of the Inter-House Quidditch Cup', and the third was called 'Seeker's Secrets'.
Glancing at Alistair, who was occupying his space hanging from the headboard, Harry asked, "I understand the two Quidditch books, but what's with the book on the Hogwarts Charter?"
"The thing with it is that it is highly recommended reading. Trust both me and Nicolas. There could be a day when that book saves your life in the castle."
Harry grunted at this, and then, not really feeling like reading, and with his eyes growing a little heavy decided to take another nap.
He read a bit of the charter that day, but mostly focused on the Quidditch books and the undiluted Tales of Beedle the Bard. The charter was really, really dry reading. The good news was that his new trunk had arrived that day.
Harry continued to sleep more than usual on the next day, when Perenelle nudged him awake, and then proceeded to drag him to the breakfast table. Harry remained quiet, wanting to take his potion, eat his breakfast, and get some more sleep. Neither adult really wanted to push the youth, so they let him drag himself through the meal and then go back to sleep.
A few hours later, Harry decided that since he was allowed some mobility, he would at least go out and read in the late summer sunlight. Dropping to the ground by the door with his four books, he idly leafed through them, working his way through all of them, the charter still getting the least attention. After lunch, he decided to take up occupancy in one of the chairs in the library and spent the rest of the day, including a short nap, there. After dinner he went to his room, and spent the short time between then and when he decided he would go to sleep for the night, finishing up reading the rules about the inter-house Quidditch cup.
On Saturday, he work feeling quite a bit better than the other days, but still a bit knackered, and so he stuck to what he had done on Friday. He finished up both the book on Seeker tips, and the other Beedle book, and had finally started to wrap his mind around the Book on the Charter. He was just about to start the second on Wards of Hogwarts, when he decided to turn in for the night.
The next morning, he woke up almost at his normal time, and felt absolutely fine, so he decided to ask Al if he felt like helping him with his Occlumency. The Hat, though nowhere near bored yet, decided to see what havoc had been wrought on the young man's defenses.
However he was not prepared for the reforged defenses. He was struck speechless as Harry picked their way through the new gatehouse and into the mindscape proper. Alistair had only one thing to say, "How the bloody hell, did you manage to improve your defenses this much? These are some of the most impressive I've seen since Salazar, and he invented modern Occlumency!"
"They say necessity is the mother of invention, and I say its father is duress. The pain had battered my gate down to its last locks in two hits, and after rebuilding the gate, the walls and dome didn't last much longer."
"Harry, I feel bad for anyone that takes a run at your defenses once I finish teaching you. But have you finished populating your misdirection?"
"Mostly, I have to redo whatever spaces I have in the outer wall, and link them to the dummy chambers. And now that I think about, I should probably redo everything in the library with the new materials."
"Then you should see about that, and don't forget you have to go through the memories since the last time you did it, a week ago Saturday."
Leaving his mind for a moment to put Al back on his spot on the headboard, he then went back into his mind, and started sorting through his memories, working his way back to the previous Saturday, and he found each memory to be crystal clear. And he could recall them with an ease with frightened him. And when he reached the last place he had went through his memories he couldn't help but feel there were more, earlier memories he hadn't gone through.
He leaped out of his mindscape, and rounded on Alistair, "I didn't care about what was blocking me apart from wanting it gone, but something is different!"
"Calm down, Harry, and explain."
He did, and the Hat replied that he had also had the lack of foresight to not ask about the details of the blocks. He then offered to be with Harry when he went through the new memories from his past. Part of him wanted to never touch the new, old memories, and a part of him felt the need to get it over with, and a few of the voices decided to try and get their own say in, before Harry decided he would do it, and he would have Alistair there with him.
Going back into his mind, Harry went through the newly recalled memories, some of them were meaningless, him cooking meals, a few were horrific, the memory of his sixth birthday when Vernon had decided he was old enough to start doing the lion's share of the cooking, and the burns and broken bones that failure had resulted in. Most ran the middle ground of his life at the Dursleys, mildly horrible.
There were a few spots that felt like there should be memories but weren't there. Alistair said they were probably where he had been memory charmed, and he would eventually teach Harry how to get around them, but that was not to be anywhere in the near future.
But then he reached the memories of before Halloween 1981. He could remember his mother singing to him, his father taking him for a ride on a broom, playing with Padfoot, in both his forms, and being bounced on his Uncle Moony's knee. Aunty Pen playing with his toes, Uncle Nic giving him a stuffed snitch. Memories that he should have been too young to recall, and Alistair agreed with him. He was in no shape to renovate the other parts of his mind.
When Nicolas came to get him for breakfast, he found Harry curled up with his back against the headboard, knees drawn to his chest, arms wrapped around his legs, and head bowed down as far as it could go. He sat down on the bed near Harry, and just put a hand on his shoulder.
It was Alistair that spoke first, "Whatever blocks or seals were on his mind, degraded his conscious ability to both record and recall his memories. It however did not stop the full and complete ability he has to remember everything. His memories are crystal clear. He has an eidetic memory."
And then Harry added in, with a broken voice, "And I can remember up until shortly before my first birthday."
And with that said Nicolas watched as Harry waged a war with his emotions to get them back under his command. He shook like a leaf in the wind, gasped as if in pain. It was vicious, brutal, and short. The only evidence that he had come a hair's breadth from a complete mental breakdown was flushed skin and tear tracks down his face.
"Go get washed up for breakfast." Nicolas then left to tell this turn of events to Perenelle.
Harry followed to breakfast four minutes later.
The two adults just watched as Harry took his potion and dug into the meal.
Perenelle was the first to speak, "Harry are you sure..."
"That what I remember is real? You, Aunty Pen, really liked playing with my toes for some reason, and Uncle Nic gave me a stuffed snitch for my first birthday. So, did it happen?"
Both of them could only nod mutely, and Harry started to shake and cry as he thought about the fact that he could now remember what his parents looked like, what they sounded like. The fact that they... He killed that thought before it could hurt him. And while he was fighting a war with himself, Pen had gotten up and drawn him into a hug.
Harry sobbed once, before regaining control. He didn't think about how it felt to have someone hugging him who cared, and he brutally slaughtered the growing thought of how it had felt like when his mother had held him.
He weakly said, and tried to make himself believe, "I'm okay. I'm fine."
Perenelle tousled his hair, smiled at him, and went back to her seat.
Deciding to forge on ahead, Nicolas said, "If you feel up to it, Sirius and Remus have offered to take us to lunch in Diagon Alley. We need to stop by Ollivander's and see if your wand is still attuned to you. With the number of blocks you had, the Healers thought that it was entirely possible that it was a false match, or even a forced match."
Bringing his face up, he said something he had shared with no one, "My wand shares a core with Voldemort's."
"So if you do indeed need a different wand, than Dumbledore was probably playing one of his games and forced it."
"I need to get out of the house, even if it is for a little while. Starting to feel a little stir-crazy."
"Well head out at eleven then. Don't forget to bring your potion."
When they walked into the restaurant, and he saw Sirius and Remus, before he even knew what he was thinking, or even doing, he had launched himself into Sirius, and hugged the man for dear life, all while half-sobbing the word 'Padfoot'.
After Harry, having embarrassed himself, got his emotions back under control, he, Nicolas, and Perenelle told the last two Marauders what had happened with Harry's memory. When they tried to question whether or not it was possible, Harry shut them up by saying Sirius could turn into a massive black dog.
After a decent lunch, in which Harry avoided losing further control of himself, Remus and Sirius decided they were going to accompany Harry to Ollivander's.
Walking into the shop, the rather creepy old wandmaker said, "Ah, Mr. Potter, I hadn't expected you back for a long while yet, is there a problem with your wand?"
"I apparently had a number of... blocks, on my magic, and the Healers..."
"Recommended you see if your wand was still compatible. Of course, it is quite easy to check. Just hold out your wand."
Harry held out his wand, and the wandmaker cast some sort of wandless spell. He scowled and cast it again. "Apparently the Healers were entirely too correct. I am not even getting a mild reaction between you and the wand. I guess we'll have to start from the beginning. You're still right handed?"
And then what followed was a repeat of Harry's first visit to the shop, except it took even longer, though the wandmaker seemed to get more and more excited, until finally Ollivander disappeared into the back of the shop and came out reverently bearing a small chest.
"Inside this, Mr. Potter are my masterpieces. The wands in here are unlike any others I have created, and each is unique amongst its peers. Here black fir and white ash, ten inches, with the crest feather from a gryphon. An excellent wand for combat. No, nope. Here, redwoord with thestral and pegasus tail hairs, eleven and a half inches, perfect for illusion work."
They went through the rest of the wands in the box, one by one, each made up of either rare or esoteric combinations until the last one.
"And this Mr. Potter, is the finest of them all. In the deepest forests of the Continent there is a species of magical tree, its bark shaped like flames, its leaves like wings, its sap is some of the most combustible material known to magic, but the tree itself if fireproof. They call it dragonwood, and are not its alternating grains of black and red beautiful? And this is the only sample I've ever gotten that would make a wand. It's core is made up of three entwined dragon heartstrings. One was from a particularly nasty Hungarian Horntail, it had to have been put down for the damage it constantly caused. Another came from a Ukrainian Ironbelly, a particularly massive one at that. It died during a mating season. The last... the last. During an archeological dig, a group of curse breakers found a perfectly preserved corpse of a Roman Black. The muggles blame Nero for burning Rome when it really was one of these fellows. They are extinct now. That item is what marked the creation of this wand... I wanted to see what I could make by pushing myself. Thirteen inches, exactly. No strengths, no weakness, outside of being more powerful, by far, than any other wand I have made. Give it a wave."
Picking up the wand, Harry felt warmth and energy rush down his arm and into his chest. He had been starting to feel a little spent from being out and about, but now he felt better, if only slightly. The only visible sign that the wand reacted was a pulse of emerald green, bright gold, and fiery red energy around his hand.
"The one thing I truly worried about Mr. Potter, is that I would never find the person this wand belonged to. Thank you." With that said, the old man handed Harry a small book entitled 'Wand Care', a box that had 'wand care supplies' written on it, and a forearm holster. "Take good care of it Mr. Potter. And it will take good care of you."
As the group was just about to walk out of the store, and it would only be later when he was going through the day's events that Harry would note that Ollivander didn't ask for payment, another pair of people walked in. One was an old woman who had a vulture on top of her hat, and the other Harry recognized quite easily.
"Hiya, Neville."
"Hey, Harry. You look like something that cat's been at. Gran, I'd like to introduce you to Harry Potter. Harry, I'd like to introduce to my Grandmother, Augusta Longbottom."
"It's a pleasure to meet you ma'am."
The old woman smiled and shook Harry's hand, and said, "So you're the one who has managed to put some backbone in my grandson, if only by association. The Longbottoms and Potters have been friends and allies for over ten generations, and it is so nice to see it continue."
"Thank you, ma'am, I need to get going, I've only been out of bed for a day and a half and would like to get home to rest a little before going back to Hogwarts."
"Of course, of course. Have a pleasant day."
"You too, ma'am."
Exiting the shop, Sirius promised Harry that he would write, while Remus grinned like he knew the punch line to some joke, and they went their separate ways, with Harry and the Flamels heading home. He went to his bed, and laid down for a nap.
Awakening and feeling refreshed, Harry decided to get what packing he had to do done. He put the two Beedle the Bard books back in the library where he found them, placed the two Quidditch books and the Charter book in one compartment of his trunk, his potions, save for one dose, in another, and packed his clothes in the third.
Harry then sat down on his bed, and went to work revamping the rest of his defenses, bringing the materials up to date, especially the vault with the memory of his second Halloween. By the time he had made any noticeable headway, he was starting to tire a bit, so he stopped and headed back out, just as Nic was poking his head in. Seeing Harry's open eyes he said, "Let's get you fed, and then we'll see you back to Hogwarts, you've been away for too long."
Nodding, he hauled himself up, feeling particularly hungry.
As they walked up toward the castle, Harry felt in one pocket for his shrunken trunk, which he had been told would return to normal size with a tap of his wand, and in another, the letter he had yet to read from his mother. As he parted from Nicolas and Perenelle, getting a hug from each, he wondered what was written in the letter, and why his father hadn't written one.
Making his way to the Tower, he didn't even pay attention to his surrounds, somehow finding his way with unconscious ease. Climbing through the portrait hole, he heard all sound stop, it was still fairly early on a Sunday, and as he had been out like a light last Sunday in St. Mungo's, he really had had no idea what to expect. Somebody shouted, "Where've you been Potter?" to which his simple reply was, "Ill." He then made his way to the dorm, and put his shrunken chest and letter on his bedside table and lay down. It had been a long walk.
Neville bounded into the room, with a goofy grin on his face, and greeted Harry, "Still looking a bit under the weather Harry, you going to go to bed for the night, or just have a bit of a lay down?"
"Probably just a bit of a nap."
"Okay, Hermione and I have the notes and assignments for last week's classes, so I'll see if I can find her and get those from her."
"Thanks, did you two volunteer or...?"
"Volunteered when McGonagall asked for someone."
"Thanks."
"No problem, Harry."
With that, Neville went down into the common room to look for Hermione and Harry stretched out after getting his boots off, and nodded off.
A/N2: I wanted to make Harry's wand truly unique, and even give it a story all its own. Those of you who don't particularly care, well tough. As for those concerned that The Tales of Beedle the Bard will lead the hollows, don't be. I picked the only bit of canon lore that would give me fictitious stories and decided to play with it a little.
