At six o'clock in the morning, Harry awoke to see Snape, back to, talking softly to something he could not see. It was the same voice he'd used for a short time in the woods with Harry, when he was sure Harry was dying. Harry closed his eyes when Snape pivoted around to reach something. He reopened them when Snape turned his back on him again. He had drawn another vial from his cloak and had used an eyedropper to extract a small amount of the vial's contents.
"There now, that's better, isn't it?" This hadn't been merely a query, but more like a naturally assumed conclusion to whatever Shape had just done. Harry distinctly heard a loud hoot and flapping, Now he didn't bother to feign sleep. He felt he was dreaming again when a large white bird fluttered clumsily onto his bed. The grey dawn did not provide much light to Harry's room, but there could be no mistaking his beloved owl.
"Hedwig!" Harry rasped beneath his mask. "Hedwig, where have you been?" For the first time, Harry's eyes were filled with joy, not sorrow and pain. "Oh girl, you look how I feel," Harry's voice was whispered and strained, but he forced it.
Snape did not offer any information or advice. He merely stated, "Rest that voice, Potter, or you'll scar your vocal cords." Hedwig nuzzled under Harry's chin. Harry couldn't help but smile, even though, with the broken jaw, it hurt to do so. He raised his hand to touch his jaw, and than to pet Hedwig affectionately. This done, Hedwig could forget her mission no longer. She picked up her burden and dropped it heavily onto Harry's chest. "Ouch!" Harry exclaimed, rather more loudly than he'd thought possible. Hedwig, realizing her mistake, stepped gently off his chest onto the side of the bed. "Thanks, girl." Harry said, as his throat dried up.
"You have the Headmaster's permission to open your package, Potter." Snape had received an officially stamped letter from Dumbledore a mere two hours after sending enquiry on the subject. Snape lit some lanterns on the wall with his wand and Hedwig snipped the twine with her beak. There was no return address, but Harry's heart leapt into his throat when he read the heading of some official looking document. The parchment read, 'Last will and Testament of Sirius Black.' Harry's head swam. He had not expected this, nor was he in any way prepared to deal with it. Somehow it seemed to weigh a heavy acceptance that Sirius was really gone. Harry hoped this time would never come. When he would have to face it...really face that Sirius was gone.
Harry did not want Snape knowing his business, but now it seemed almost pointless to try to hide anything from him. There were so many papers, and Harry couldn't hold his arms up for long in this position. He hated to ask, but he checked his pride. "P Professor?" He was barely audible. "Would you?" Harry felt he could not wait to find out what was in those papers, although he knew he should wait for someone he knew to read it to him. He had longed to hear anything from Sirius, even this final, painful reminder of Sirius' death. Harry now thought about how much pain he was going through with his injuries, and he now suddenly wondered if Sirius' death had been an instant one. If he could just know that Sirius had died instantly without pain, he could have at least taken comfort in that one small thing.
"Are you certain you wouldn't prefer..." Snape suggested wearily.
"No, please," Harry was so tense, it sounded more like a hiss.
"Very well...I, Sirius Black, being of sound mind and body, do hereby bequeath all my worldly belongings to my Godson, Harry James Potter upon my death by nature or act of malice." Snape read this like a lawyer who'd never met Sirius before. "There's a lot, Potter, shall I go on?"
"Yes," Harry mouthed, for no sound would come out, The list ended with Grimauld Place. "NO!" Harry wheezed, turning his head away from Snape's view. "I was supposed to live with you, Sirius, not...not alone." Harry thought desperately to himself. The most profound silence and isolation filled Harry's entire being, threatening to swallow him up, and for the first time Harry wondered what was he, Harry Potter, going to get as reward for defeating the Dark Lord Voldemort? The world, Harry figured out, would get peace and freedom and joy, and he, the young tragic martyr, would get torn to pieces, left with the inheritances of all his dead loved ones to live alone in an empty house! Now he wished he had flown away, and not listened to Hermione and Ron's voice call him back. Thinking of Ron and Hermione, he supposed that maybe they could be left happy if the Dark Lord was defeated, so just as they'd pledged their lives, unbeknownst to him, he now pledged his life to them secretly. Hoping that they at least may have a shot if they survived, gave him something to live for, though while thinking of Ron and Hermione having a life, Harry pictured himself alone if he should somehow survive. Briefly, Ginny had come to his mind, but if he survived at all, he didn't know if he could live with himself after having killed someone, even Voldemort, let alone if any girl would accept him.
"There is something else here, Potter, dated July the thirty first." Snape's eyes narrowed suspiciously. He opened the parcel and examined the contents closely. He pulled out a long gold chain, and Harry saw a pocket watch emerge on the end of it. On closer inspection, he saw a relief of a Griffin, raised up on it's rear legs. Snape unfolded a richly embossed birthday card. "To my Godson, on his Sixteenth birthday." Snape gave the card to Harry, who turned it over and over in his fingers. Harry read the inscription on the watch, 'To Harry, Love Mom and Dad." Harry didn't understand, and Snape quickly read on as Harry's stomach flipped. "Dearest Godson, this letter was left in my possession, that I should give it to you on your sixteenth birthday, just as your father James received it on his sixteenth birthday, and so on back into your lineage. I was to see to it that you got it should something happen to..."
Harry looked sickly confused. "Sirius must have wrapped this package up sometime before his death," Snape reasoned as he read on. "Harry, the pendent in the package is from me. Wear it always. The amulet that hangs from the chain is somewhat protective. I made it myself." The amulet glowed red as Harry's hand touched it. Snape pulled back his hand in agony as Harry reached out to take it from his grasp. Harry saw a angry red mark form on Snape's outstretched hand. He had seen Professor Snape grasp his forearm in similar pain years ago when he had revealed himself as a former servant of Voldemort...a death eater. Voldemort had marked all of his servants to feel the mark on their forearms burn at his summons and apparate at his side to do his bidding at once.
Snape looked shocked, but stopped wincing when he saw Harry looking at him in a whole new light. Again, this event, brought to the surface all of the misgivings Harry had about Dumbledore's trust in the defection of Snape from Voldemort, to the service of Hogwarts and especially to the Order Of The Phoenix, which was led by Dumbledore, the only wizard to strike fear into the Dark Lord.
"I'm afraid I must take that pendent to the headmaster, Mr. Potter. It must be screened for dangerous curses and the like." Snape was clearly making this up as he went along. Harry did not want to relinquish Sirius's gift. He needed protection now more than ever before.
"NO! It's mine. There was nothing wrong with my Firebolt and there's nothing wrong with this!" Harry was struggling with Snape for the amulet. With the pain from touching it that Snape was enduring, it was almost a fair fight, even with Harry so weak.
"I WILL NOT LET YOU INJURE YOURSELF FURTHER, MR POTTER. YOU WILL LET GO OF THE AMULET!" Snape's voice was steady and cold, despite his obvious discomfort. Harry knew all too well that he meant what he said.
"It's mine! Get off!" Harry was wheezing badly and his monitors were sure to attract attention any time now.
"DORMIEN TRANQILI!" Snape had hit him squarely in the chest. Harry's grip let go and he sunk out of Snape's hands. The monitors returned to normal at once, and Harry's chest rose and fell gently as in one who is comfortable, without a care in the world. Harry's last thought was, why hadn't Hedwig helped him?
Harry awoke to see a dim, bearded figure, sitting next to his bedside. The figure stood to tower over him, and Harry was jolted into full awareness, with fright. He felt his glasses being fitted onto his face. He gazed into the serene face of his headmaster, Professor Dumbledore.
Harry began to speak very fast, as fast as his throat would allow. "Professor Snape, Sir...Sirius left me...Snape took..." Harry was so frantic to get his point out, he was making no sense at all.
"Professor Snape, Harry." Dumbledore corrected him calmly.
"He stole my pendent, sir." Harry couldn't talk anymore. It was too painful, and with Professor Dumbledore's staunch unspoken defence of Snape's actions the previous night, Harry guessed that going on was pointless anyhow.
"It is not pointless, Harry. It is never pointless to express your opinion , no matter how wrong you may be." Dumbledore looked at Harry as if he was transparent. "Yes, I heard you, but I do not make it a habit to pry on people's innermost thoughts, nor could I do so, save only with you and a very rare few who have studied occlumency, and of course , the clairvoyants."
"So...so you can hear me?" This was just like the dream Harry had had on the operating table, when Dumbledore had encouraged him to fight for his life.
"Yes, Harry, I can hear you, if you wish it."
"Professor Dumbledore, Snape took my gifts, my birthday gifts...from Sirius.."
"No, Harry, the amulet is here," Dumbledore put his wrinkled hand on Harry's chest. There, under the hospital gown, was Harry's new pendent, safely clasped around his neck. Snape, unlike Dumbledore could freely touch the amulet, without consequence. When he did, Harry felt a warmth spread through his chest all around the amulet. This one difference, clinched it for Harry. He thought, like he was really speaking. "Professor Dumbledore, what happened? It didn't burn you?"
"Harry, you see how the amulet is held in it's setting by these two bits of black iron at the top and bottom?"
"Yes." Harry looked at the pendent for the first time as an object, not just as something having treasure status because of whom it had come from. He tried hard to look at it objectively as he had been instructed.
"Those two pieces of iron are the very same ones which came from the cursed branding iron used by Voldemort to brand his followers, the deatheaters. A burn that would never heal, which would summon his chosen servants to apparate at his side, upon feeling the pain from the brand renewed in full."
Harry was horrified, wondering what on earth Sirius could have been thinking to send him such an item. He rasped desperately, "Get it off me!" and tried to yank it from his neck.
"You needn't fear it, Harry." It was Professor Snape's exhaustion and surprise which caught him so thoroughly off his guard. He has come to me for an intense session of occlumency and I'm sure when he is rested, he will be immune to it's effects."
"I know he feels the calls, Professor. I've seen him bite the inside of his cheek, holding his arm, pretending he doesn't feel his master's call."
"Yes Harry, you are correct. Professor Snape is a marked man in more ways than one. He will feel that pain at every summons, just as you feel the pain in your scar through Voldemort's strong emotions. Professor Snape will feel that pain for the rest of his life, or until Voldemort is defeated. He comes to me for further occlumency lessons to learn to block out the pain and irresistible force he feels when summoned."
"He feels?" Harry laughed inside despite himself, forgetting that Dumbledore could still hear him.
"Yes Harry, he feels. I will not at this time trouble you with an explanation, but Professor Snape did not steal your pendent , rather, he brought it to me for inspection. He was honest, and revealed to me what happened when he touched the pendent while it was touching your skin. He knew exactly the designs holding your pendent, for they are burned into his flesh."
"Professor, you know he's a Deatheater. I called him one in the woods when he wouldn't help me and he didn't even deny it!"
"Harry," Dumbledore said firmly, but with a kind tone, "was a Deatheater–was a Deatheater. He is human, Harry. I believe he was unable to extract you from under that tree. I myself almost lost you raising that log from your legs. If Professor Snape had not stabilized your condition, you would have died before we could reach you. This was the one and only truth Harry could accept.
"Professor Dumbledore, I don't mean to be bold or undermine you, but Snape served Voldemort, who wants me dead. He's never liked me. He's never tried to give me the upper hand, when he should have inside information, loads of it."
"That is where you are wrong, my young friend. Professor Snape must have served you better than you'd thanked him for. If it wasn't for his lessons to you in occlumency last year, we could not speak as we are doing now, mind to mind. Now Harry, try to read my mind." Harry tried, but it felt like he'd run full speed into a vault door at Gringott's. "I trust you did not meet such resistance with Professor Snape?"
"No...I saw him...as a ...as a young child..." Harry felt embarrassed to go on, even on Snape's behalf.
"That I saw as well. There are things even deeper he cannot hide. That is why I was reluctant to put him through teaching you occlumency. It is hard to respect those you have seen at their most frightened, their most vulnerable, and I will tell you this, to bear the current burden Professor Snape bears has been the death of many wizards stronger than himself. I have seen further into the depths of his soul than I think he will ever let anyone see ever again, and it is what keeps him alone. He cannot share his burden. The prophecy in which you have seen unfolding started long before you can remember. You have, no doubt learned that many joined Voldemort's ranks of their own free accord, while others were coerced or downright forced. You would guess that Professor Snape joined Voldemort of his own free will?"
"Yes...Of course." Harry stated the obvious.
"And I would tell you that are indeed correct."
"I knew it!" Harry was triumphant.
"Yes Harry, but he was under extreme duress. I do not believe that a man should go against his principals for any reason, but sometimes, when we are very young, we make rash decisions. I have given Professor Snape a second chance, because he tried to leave Voldemort before he had to kill in his name, before Voldemort's downfall...Severus Snape came back when he knew that it meant a certain death sentence for him to do so, for his master was at full power and was reigning with an iron fist. Many died in their attempt to leave," Professor Dumbledore remembered sadly. "Professor Snape is not against you, Harry, but if he cannot separate himself from his past in his mind as well as his body, he will perish if you are the victor in the prophecy. He has separated himself from Voldemort, but with the dark mark he bears on his arm, he cannot merely resign his servitude. He is linked, like it or not, to Voldemort himself and all the others like him. We have tried, Nicholas Flammel and myself and even top healers to remove the forged curse from his arm, and alas we were unsuccessful."
"Professor Snape is a dead man walking, Harry. If you defeat the dark lord, he will die with him. You see, Voldemort , basking in his supremacy, studied the ancient Egyptian Kings, who believed in the afterlife, where they would need their worldly possessions and servants with them. When an ancient king left this world, many innocent victims were slaughtered to do their master's bidding in the afterlife, while others slew themselves gladly to go on in servitude in the other side. The mark that Professor Snape bears is like an hourglass, Harry. If you win, Snape dies. If Voldemort wins...he will be killed as a traitor, for it will be revealed to Voldemort than where his loyalties have gone astray. Either way, Harry, if we cannot make Professor Snape's occlumency stronger and find a way to remove the dark mark from his body, he is doomed. All branded deatheaters share this burden. That is why most of them have returned to his side."
"Is it too simplistic to suggest the removal of his arm, Professor? After all, the decision to hack off my legs was made in about thirty seconds in the middle of nowhere," Harry said bitterly, but thankfully that the task had not been carried out.
"You are very understandably, a bitter young man, but yes we had considered that. It has been revealed to us that the poison inflicted through this cruel brand, courses through his very veins. Not even had he hacked his arm off the moment it had touched his skin, would it have been any less effective. Professor Snape has chosen to serve the greater good Harry, and the sooner you accept this the better. No one can force their beliefs on you, but the evidence before you far outweighs the gossip, and I hope you will avail yourself of the truth.
After exhausting all the 'for' and 'against' arguments regarding Professor Snape, Harry gave up, but not in, and he changed the subject. "Professor, Sirius left me..." He wanted to say everything, but he felt he had nothing without Sirius.
"I am aware of the will, Harry. I witnessed it myself. Did you not know?"
"When?" Harry had hoped beyond all hope that Dumbledore was hiding that fact that Sirius was alive, and that he would slip up and give a date which would just happen to be after Sirius's death date, for Harry still could not accept his godfather's death.
"I am very sorry, Harry, but yes, it was before he was killed at Ministry Of Magic." Dumbledore had of course heard Harry's hopeful query, though Harry had tried to hide it."
"I...I know," Harry heaved. Hearing someone give their condolences for the very first time, made his eyes well up with tears again. "Oh, what is wrong with me?" Harry moaned to himself. "If I can't master myself, I'm going to be tormented as a blubbering idiot when I get back to school. Stop it!" he warned himself, as he wiped away any remaining tears and tried to get a deep breath.
"Harry if you do not let out the sorrow inside yourself, it will swell inside you, slowing your recovery. You can let it out and still remain sad, but if you do not spill some of the grief, than there will be no room for joy and learning. I am in no way suggesting that you succumb to every disappointment in life. Strength is a virtue indeed, but so to , is showing one's humanity. You keep wondering every time you fall apart , if you will ever be able to put yourself back together. My answer to you is this. You speak of empty houses and sole inheritances. To some, this wealth would be beyond their wildest dreams, for Sirius was a wealthy man, Harry, but his most treasured possession, was his belief that you and he would be reunited. All you are left with is a memory of him, but someday, when your grief is not so near, the memory of his love and the love of your parents, will sustain you. For you were, and are, rich in love. Many men have pledged their very lives in your quest. Sirius's riches do not interest you, so take comfort in the one thing he gave you that he did not inherit from his family, his love for you."
Harry had his eyes closed as he abbreviated Dumbledore's long speech into a short one. In essence, mourn your losses, but take comfort in those who still love you and the memories of those who did love you. He thought of Hermione and all the Weaslys, his mind lingering on Ginny for reasons he couldn't even explain to himself at this point. Perhaps because she too had suffered cruelly at the hands of Voldemort, but Harry wondered if it was something more, as he had physically felt his shoulders relax somewhat just thinking about the petite red head. Than he suddenly thought of Hagrid's rambling. He'd been asleep, waking only when he heard Hagrid blowing his nose. The Giant had been crying. Harry remembered the painful inflections in Hagrid's voice when after all these years, he had finally voiced his love for him. Hagrid, had of course loved Harry from the moment he had picked him from his ruined home, and the feeling had always been mutual, but never spoken until the night when Harry lay between life and death. Hagrid had feared that he would never get the chance to tell Harry how he felt again, if he didn't take it that morning.
There was so much to ask. Harry was glad of Dumbledore's apparently limitless patience for his questions, after all, he hadn't truly spoken to anyone since the attack on his life. Thinking of Hagrid, it dawned heavily upon Harry, that the second time in his life he could ever remember anyone telling him that they loved him, was also by a person who had consumed too much alcohol. Harry's heart was not so jaded as to dismiss Hagrid's true emotions, for they were sincere and Harry had always known it. Aunt Petunia's proclamation of love on the other hand, just made Harry's skin crawl.
Harry now remembered nothing of Hagrid's sudden departure from St. Mungos. All of the medication and pain and the further attack on his life, had quite distracted him from what would normally have been a huge deal. Now , he remembered Hagrid's umbrella and he had a mental flashback of raising it against Percy. The fact that he'd almost died after the incident, had caused the memory lapse. He thought hard, trying to remember a visit from his giant friend.
"Professor Dumbledore, is Hagrid alright? He's never left his wa- umbrella behind before," Harry corrected, too late.
"We have known about Hagrid's umbrella's -er—unusual magical tendencies for some time. We agreed at the school at the time Hagrid was expelled, that we would let him keep the broken fragments from his wand. If we pretended not to know about it we felt Hagrid would use it sparingly and carefully , so as not to get caught by anyone from the Ministry. Harry felt relieved that Dumbledore knew about Hagrid's wand, since it had been very obvious. With so much riding on Dumbledore's competence, to miss Hagrid's umbrella would have made Harry very leery about most of his other decisions that concerned his very life. "We felt that, being a giant, Hagrid would be teased and provoked by some of our more unruly students, and we felt he would need some protection. Also, as grounds keeper, so near the dark forest..."
Harry looked up at the ceiling, picturing a young Hagrid, uneducated and turned out of the castle to live by himself in the tiny hut at the edge of the forbidden forest. A lonely life, Harry decided, Hardly better than his own, except Hagrid wasn't hassled by the Dursleys every day of his life. He still couldn't remember having seen Hagrid lately, and it troubled him greatly.
"Hagrid has had some very difficult decisions to make. We have sat down together and Hagrid has finally agreed to take the teaching standards tests to determine if he is fit to teach under the new guideline for safety and security at our fine establishment. You will now be addressing your old friend as Professor Hagrid officially," Dumbledore informed Harry proudly.
This was it. Dumbledore had touched a nerve, a subject so painful, Harry tried desperately to hide his feelings from the old wizard. Harry had no family, and besides , he hadn't even received his Hogwarts letter yet, he realized with another pang of sadness. As if in answer to Harry's sudden alarm, Dumbledore retrieved some parchment from his robes. "I have waited until I could bring it to you personally, Harry." Harry gratefully accepted the familiar looking envelope, which Ron and Hermione had received some time ago, with relief. It was much more extensive than usual.
Number one, Harry was not to report to the boys dormitories in Griffindor tower as usual, but there it was, his expected return to Hogwarts date, September the first as usual. Harry's heart leapt and for the first time, he forgot his pain and worry.
"I'm...I'm coming home?...I mean to Hogwarts?" Harry looked to Professor Dumbledore for confirmation, and when Dumbledore smiled back his affirmation, Harry felt his lost feeling of closeness to the old man, return to him in full, like a beloved grandfather.
"Professor Dumbledore...but how?..." Harry queried, indicating the casts on his legs and other obvious obstacles. An unrealistic part of him half hoped that at that moment, Dumbledore would raise his wand and the casts would disappear and he would be healed completely, but even the fact that this did not happen, could not dampen his new high spirits, though he was now somewhat puzzled. Even he knew that without magical intervention, he could not return to school in this condition.
"Yes Harry, we have considered all of this. Your muggle doctors feel that you would be better served here at St. Mungos until your recovery has progressed further. With all due respect to these fine people, they do not understand fully the security concerns your presence here causes. We have therefore, met with the mediwizards to devise a plan for your safe return to Hogwarts for the start of the school year. You have your friend, Miss Granger's quick book references to thank for that. She suggested that we send Madame Pomfrey some muggle medicine advanced medical books, kindly provided by Doctor Green. Poppy is a remarkable healer. She could have been head mediwizard here at St. Mungos," Dumbledore said with admiration, and going very much off topic, as he was famous for. She has agreed to study the manual, and barring any major complications, you will return to Hogwarts on schedule."
"To the hospital wing...my second home," Harry said dejectedly. He'd spent more time in Hogwarts Hospital Wing, than anyone he had ever known. Madame Pomfrey had a medical file on Harry that took up an entire drawer in the filing cases. Neville had been a close second, but even he had never taken up residency there formally. Than there was the fussing Madame Pomfrey was famous for. Harry knew he'd find it hard to endure it, but than with her zeal for healing, Harry hoped that she would be able to mend him more quickly than anyone felt possible, after all, praise from Dumbledore of that magnitude was not lightly taken, and she could, in Harry's experience, cure almost anything.
Harry was torn between relief and embarrassment upon finding out that Stephanie would have an extended hand in his care. She was a veterinarian, and Harry cringed at the thought that Malfoy would get this information. He could picture Draco Malfoy barking at him, or some other barrage of insults, and hoped that no one else would ever find out he had been treated by an animal doctor. For his private part, he felt in very good hands, after all Stephanie was a superb doctor when it came right down to it. Besides, animal doctors had to have something even people doctors didn't. An animal couldn't tell you where it hurts, and nor could he when they'd first brought him in. It was she who had figured out what had been wrong with him.
Harry had so much to ask, that subjects changed quicky, with Harry catching up on all that had taken place recently. Dumbledore had asked him if he remembered Tyler, Stephanie's son, and it all came flooding back to Harry. Tyler's attention to him in the woods, and the little boy's treatment of him as though he was one of his patients at the clinic.
"Professor Dumbledore, Tyler, he's an animal healer of some sort, and he said I had the heart of a lion, and I don't think he meant courage." Harry remembered Tyler's self doubt as he had heard him telling Professor Snape not to take the log off his legs. "He said he couldn't heal humans, but I think I heard him calling me back, like I hear you now. When he touched me, it was like he was reading me." Dumbledore looked at Harry significantly, as though he were affirming Harry's suspicion. "Is he a wizard, sir?" Harry asked, still trying to remember and looking at his hand, which should have been left with a nasty scar from the broken window at Privet Drive. Tyler had bound it and after that Harry had fallen into a comfortable sleep, against his will. He hadn't realized in all the ensuing confusion that his hand didn't hurt at all after he had woken up.
"No indeed Harry. In fact, it is this very subject that I am most anxious to discuss with you when you are well. Tyler, however, has been invited, and has accepted an opportunity for education at Hogwarts, for a period of time not yet decided. He will be specializing in potions, and he will be joining you in your occlumency lessons with Professor Snape. You will begin these private lessons on your first term class schedule. Harry, now looking at his schedule for the first time, noticed that this was the only subject on his timetable. He was assured that his subject schedule would fill according to his progress in healing.
Harry's initial enthusiasm, at returning to Hogwarts, was now mixed with matching amounts of dread. Professor Dumbledore, sensing this, cheered Harry up by telling him, that although Madame Pomfrey usually did not allow animals in the hospital wing, she had agreed to an exception to allow Hedwig to stay with Harry in his confinement, until such a time as he could safely return to the sixth year boys dorms.
"And when may that be?" Harry asked enthusiastically.
"One step at a time. Let us at least get you back on your feet, but as it is you we are talking about, I've no doubt that you will put your all into your recovery. There is more to you than meets the eye, Harry." And with these curiosity invoking comments, Dumbledore stood to leave. He took both of Harry's hands in his and held him a long gaze over his square spectacles. It felt to Harry like an appraisal, and his suspicions were correct. "You are looking better Harry, and I must admit, even I had my doubts, but your aura has changed for the better. I believe you have jumped the hurdle and are now on the mend."
Professor Dumbledore's visit had been healing, and without any forewarning, he announced, matter of factly, "Now I believe you have visitors. I will leave you young ones alone." How Dumbledore could possibly have known that Harry had visitors, Harry could not guess, though he always knew there was more to this old man than met the eye. It was a full three minutes before any visual or audible announcement of new arrivals came, yet Dumbledore had somehow perceived their arrival. "I will leave Miss Granger and Mr. Weasley to fill you in on your accommodation details." Harry thought he'd heard all the details. "Remember, Harry, you must allow yourself rest and time. No shame or guilt need be felt for letting yourself grieve." With a pop, Dumbledore apparated with a wink at Harry and his friends, who had just entered.
"Hiya Harry!" Ron sounded as enthused as Colin Creevy had been upon seeing the famous Harry Potter for the first time. Harry, who after conversing with Dumbledore so freely in his mind, had temporarily fallen out of reality. He immediately tried to talk to them in the same way. He was crestfallen when it didn't work.
"Professor McGonagall is here for the day shift, Harry. How's Hedwig?" Hermione picked up Harry's owl affectionately, and Hedwig seemed to nuzzle in apology for having bitten Hermione. "She looks wonderful, but I'd give a lot to know where she's been for all this time." Hermione mused. "I suspect we haven't got the whole story from that house elf." Hermione was so disdainful the way she said house-elf, that Ron and Harry wondered if she would be giving up on S.P.E.W., her house elf liberation movement she had started. As if hearing their musings, she said firmly, "Of course, Kreecher is a product of slavery, so we must realize that and treat him with caution and sympathy." Harry just rolled his eyes until she spoke again. "Of course, if he does one more thing wrong , he may find himself on that wall next to his dead relatives quicker than he thinks."
Harry's thought came much quicker than his real damaged voice would keep up with. "Snape gave Hedwig potion, me too," The strength it took out him even to talk, Harry almost wished Snape was here to give him some more of the potion. "Whoa! I must be really desperate to wish that," he caught himself.
The door burst open just as they were beginning to enjoy their time alone. "Hello Harry, I'm Miss Ketchel. It's time for your medicine. I'm just waiting for the head mediwizard who will be supervising my care of you today," she said cheerfully. Harry did not think these people would be looking after him, and his face showed his uncertainty.
"Argh!" Ron was disgusted, and he voiced it when Miss Ketchel went to find her boss, who was late. Harry had wanted so desperately to tell them about Sirius's gifts, and the will, and the watch his parents had left him for his sixteenth birthday, not to mention about Dumbledore's visit and Snape's secrets. He was simply bursting at the seams, and now he was to be someone's guinea pig.
It didn't help matters that Miss Ketchel was extremely pretty-and very young. She couldn't have been out of school long. When the impatient Miss Ketchel returned, she did not ask Ron and Hermione to leave, for which Harry was grateful...at first. He felt himself going scarlet red when they unceremoniously uncovered his entire body from the waist up, and flipped the blankets back from his legs, leaving only his privates covered. Harry was humiliated, horrified, and just when he thought his embarrassment could go no further, Hermione, unable to contain herself, gasped in horror and he saw Ron grimace.
Harry laid there, like a corpse while Miss Ketchel listened with a stethoscope to Harry's chest but she had clearly never done this before, and the head mediwizard had had only a few days practice at it as well. Ron, who was wholly sympathetic to Harry's plight, slipped out of the room to find someone who could at least expediate this awful invasion on his friend. Professor McGonagall immediately paged Stephanie, who stepped into the room and nonchalanntly covered Harry back up. The mediwizard, who in his opinion was finished, had stood over the shivering body of Harry, discussing him like he was in a morgue. Harry, who in the past had even felt slightly apprehensive about taking his shirt off on the sprawling grounds of Hogwarts on a warm sunny day, if there were girls around, was beyond livid.
Leaving Harry alone with his friends to gain some of his composure back, Stephanie said, "Now, Harry, I'll just go see about some pyjamas for you." Stephanie ushered the rude Miss Ketchel and the mediwizard, whom Harry now referred to as the fool and the fool's apprentice out of his room. He could not look Hermione in the eye.
"Sorry Harry! It's just that ...I...I wasn't prepared." Hermione stammered in apology. She hadn't meant to scare or insult him.
"Oh great, what now?" Harry's over reactive imagination had him wondering, "what did these muggle freaks do to me?"
"What?" Harry put the question to her, not really wanting to hear the answer. "It's just that...what?" he prompted, coughing painfully, voice very hoarse. She did not answer right away. The only good thing that had come out of this whole embarrassing situation, was that he had been given another dose of Snape's potion, and felt slightly better, although, the talented Miss Ketchel, no doubt dying to try a muggle syringe, had neglected to read Snape's notes that instructed the patient to drink the potion. She had uncovered his hip, exposing him further, and plunged the needle painfully into his hip, clearly not knowing how to perform this procedure. As this came back to him, (Snape's potion always had a moment long side effect of almost passing out with relief) Harry suddenly became alarmed that Hermione may have seen more of him than he'd thought when the trainee mediwizard had exposed his hip to inject him.
Harry knew that it was rude to whisper in front of other people, and that he and Hermione had had no secrets between them, but after what Harry had just been through, she did not begrudge him a side bar with Ron. Hermione nervously looked up at the ceiling. She had no clue as to what Harry's secret was, or she would be blushing scarlet. Hermione feared that Harry was angry with her for crying out upon seeing him almost naked.
"What did you see?...You and Hermione?...She didn't see?..." Ron almost burst out laughing with relief, despite his best friend's sincere concern, which was verging on death by embarrassment. Ron was glad that Harry was not angry with the two of them.
"Nah, mate, your secret's safe with me," Ron smiled at him, trying to break the tension. Harry had told Ron about his unfortunate scar on his buttocks from being shot with Dudley's pellet gun as a child. This having been said, Harry felt somewhat more relieved, but poor Hermione was still completely out of the loop. She was still apologizing profusely for reacting verbally to the massive surgical incisions on his chest, which were still stapled up, and made him resemble someone who had been zippered up. Harry had not seen his chest, as he had been lying down the whole time. All he knew was that it hurt a lot.
Professor McGonagall came into Harry's room with Stephanie, and he was slightly worried about a repeat performance when he saw pyjamas in her hands. "What is it, Mr. Potter?" Professor McGonagall asked kindly, knowing what he had just endured.
"Hermione...please?" Harry asked sheepishly, indicating the door.
"Nonsense, Mr. Potter," Professor McGonagall said, waving her wand over Harry's body and uttering, "Modesto!" The pyjamas magically covered Harry's body, casts and all. "Is that better, Mr. Potter?" She asked with a knowing smile on her face. Harry reasoned that he must be getting better, for she had been calling him Harry until now, and now resumed the formal, Mr. Potter. Harry was extremely grateful to Stephanie and Professor McGonagall., that he was not put on exhibition again. Now Hermione began to understand what Harry had been so secretive about.
"I know, Harry." There it was again, Harry. "Mrs. Golden told me of your unfortunate unveiling at the hand of those two ..." Professor McGonagall rarely questioned other's methods, except under supreme ineptitude. "I daresay you owe your rough treatment to the fact that the head mediwizard is used to getting his way around here, and being revered. He has been informed that from now on, Professor Snape's potions are to be your course of treatment, since they are obviously working and giving you less pain. He couldn't match Professor Snape's potions, without resorting to wizarding methods, and he is out of his element for the first time."
"So that's why that shot hurt my hip so much! He picked the most incompetent student to practice on me!"
"Harry, I'm awfully sorry, but Doctor Green wants to see you this morning as well," Stephanie informed him sympathetically. Would he ever get the chance to tell Ron and Hermione everything? At this rate, he doubted it, but he had no where to go, so he would have to wait.
Hermione made to leave the room, and Harry was grateful for it, but Doctor Green's casual greeting of, "Good morning, oh no need to leave, I'll just be a minute here." Hermione didn't want Harry to think he repulsed her, so she stayed put, but Harry had only been half convinced that she had seen nothing by Ron's playful proclamation that she hadn't seen the scar on his 'cheek.'
Harry had already felt like he'd been strip searched, but this was more discreet by a mile. Doctor Green barely opened his pyjama shirt to listen to his lungs and check his incisions. Than he uncovered his feet, and Harry was grateful for every pin prick he felt in each toe that Doctor Green touched.
"Your lungs are clear. That Professor Snape of yours is a genius. He has kindly agreed to share the ingredient list for his new lung treatment and instruction manual for this potion for us to take back with us when we leave. We will start our clinical studies right away, as this will no doubt save many lives. Just as the always practical Hermione was about to point out the obvious, Doctor Green informed them, "Your Professor Dumbledore decided it would be for the best for us to retain some of our memories from this event, so we can continue our research with all the new tools to fight sickness." Doctor Green was so proud to be involved in this, and he sounded like a superhero giving a 'save the day' speech. "Professor Dumbledore said this unfortunate situation could one day unite muggles, did he say? and wizards alike, for an upcoming event of historic proportions." Harry's stomach flipped. He knew that the war would effect muggles as well, and Dumbledore had begun a communication with them out of Harry's injuries. "You will start your respiratory exercises soon, and you should begin walking therapy soon after those casts come off, if everything goes well." Doctor Green told him, filling out his paper work.
"If all goes well?" Harry blurted out , worried. Professor Snape's potion was still working, and Ron and Hermione had hoped that everyone would leave while Harry's voice still held so they could talk to him.
"Yes, judging by your normal reflexes and response to stimuli, we feel your spine is healing nicely. No permanent or lasting damage, we think." Instead of taking this as good news, Harry's load of worry had been added to. What if they were wrong? Hermione knew that Harry's usual jump to a dismal end was getting the better of him. "Remember Harry, A. You're fine, and B. Even if you're not, Madame Pomfrey will be able to fix you right up, once you're back. After all, by than you'll be out of danger from dying of being transferred to wizarding medicine, and the security measures will be lessened there, besides, you know Madame Pomfrey, she won't be able to resist fussing anyway. You'll be fine Harry, I know you will."
Stephanie left, informing them that she had to help Tyler with his homework. "Professor Dumbledore has assigned him some pre-entry study, and that kind Professor Snape has offered to take him shopping for his school supplies." This announcement had caused them all to look at her squarely to see if her nose had grown with lies, for even witches and wizards had heard of the puppet, turned boy, whose nose grew with every lie he told, but the wizards and witches knew this story to be an absolute truth, while the muggles fancied it merely a fairy tale.
"Professor McGonagall left the room , toting with her what was unmistakenly a knitting bag. "Molly has taught me to knit. Normally, I would have just conjured a bolt of wool to transform into a garment, however it isn't somehow as satisfying as doing it yourself, you know?"Professor McGonagall had clearly needed a hobby in all these troubled times, and after all said Ron, defending his mother's knitting tutorial, "better hobby than habit."