To Sleep is an Act of Faith
Summary: The war is over, but where is Harry Potter? The wizarding world has almost given up hope of finding their saviour, but Harry is now the one that needs saving; can an unsuspecting muggle help?
Rating: K+ (may change)
Disclaimer: Urgh, still not mine.
Author's Notes: I have written and re-written this chapter countless times and it's still not right. In the end I've decided to just put it up as it is and hope for the best, although I feel obliged to apologise in advance for the poor quality of this particular stage of the story. On a slightly happier note, I'm still trying really hard to get them longer, and once again this is the longest one yet. Happy reading!
Chapter Twenty-Five
Harry was surrounded.
He could feel it. It was pushing in on him, compressing his mind, constricting his body.
He was drowning. Trapped in a swirling hubbub of pain and uncertainty. He could feel himself sinking down through the thick confusion that enclosed him. Panicking, he struggled, he tried flailing his limbs in an attempt to swim upwards, but they were stiff and unmoving, as if locked in place by some unknown force. Trying to breathe he found he could only suck in the thick, slimy substance that surrounded him; it filled his lungs and tightened his chest.
His head began to pound as his senses told it that no oxygen could be found. Terror overcame him as he made one last futile attempt at breaking free of the fear that surrounded him and kept him locked up.
Just as he was resigning himself to a never ending battle with a force that seemed to defy his existence, he broke through. Smashing through the barriers that surrounded him with force enough to send them shattering into thousands of pieces which reflected the newly found light into Harry's sensitive and recently opened eyes.
He gulped air into his body as if he had been deprived of it for days. It seemed to burn as he forced it through his lungs, scraping at the sensitive lining of his throat. The light hurt his eyes and made him wince, and the silence that surrounded him roared in his ears.
He had no idea where he was, or why, and as this realisation hit, he began to panic. Dots danced before his eyes as his breathing became shallow and laboured.
Recognising the need to calm down, he slowed his breathing, and closed his eyes.
After what seemed to be a couple of minutes, Harry reopened his eyes and forced himself to observe his surroundings.
He was flat on his back. Directly in front of his still stinging eyes was a bright white ceiling, flecked with tiny specks of pink. He stared up at this sight for some time, finding that if he changed the focus of his eyes, or stared for long enough, the definition between the two colours was lost completely, and the whole thing blurred into one off-white mess. He explored the patterns and pictures made by the specks of colour, and marvelled at how he could make them morph into something else at his very whim.
This captivated the boy's curiosity for almost twenty minutes, he was in awe of the straightforwardness of the design, and how something so simple could become a maze of wonder, if observed in the right manner.
A slight stirring near his left arm brought him out of his world of fantasy and wonder. This caused his mind to revert back to the situation at hand, where was he again?
Harry considered the situation, he didn't know how he had come to be in this place, and this confused him. He tried to reach back into his mind and examine what had last happened to him, but found he couldn't quite reach it.
He went back further, trying to remember a specific occurrence or incident, but once again found the images just out of reach. He did however, have a feeling of, well, he didn't know what it was really; just some kind of feeling of… existence. A memory of being alive, of being there.
The thing moved again. Harry's curiosity spiked, bringing with it a spark of fear.
Slowly he became aware of the movement in the corner of his vision, as a figure rose up beside his bed.
It was a man.
Harry stopped panicking. There was no reason to be afraid; he realised that now. Though why he knew it was still a mystery.
He kept his eyes locked on the other person, and observed as he rubbed his eyes groggily, and stretched his limbs. The man pulled his eyes wide, assimilating to the bright light of the room. As his line of vision fell, his eyes looked down on Harry.
He smiled friendlily down at him, then jerked his head away sharply, as if only just taking in what he was seeing.
"Harry!" exclaimed the man.
Yes, thought Harry contentedly, that's me.
o0o
Damien felt as if he had slept for hours, which in fact he probably had; however it was not the kind of sleep that leaves you refreshed and ready, but the type that makes you feel slow and bleary. His senses were fogged up and his awareness lazy and groggy.
He raised his body from the bed he was leaning on, and lifted his hand to rub the sleep from his eyes.
As he became used to the harsh, white light of the room, he glanced around, and saw Harry gazing up at him intently, from where he lay on the bed. The boy's eyes were glassy, and shone slightly, reflecting the brightness of the room.
Damien smiled. Harry was awake.
Wait, Harry was awake?!
Shock flooded him and he flinched at the sudden realisation.
"Harry!"
The boy smiled very gently, but otherwise did not acknowledge Damien's presence.
Damien stared blankly for another second, before exploding into action.
"Harry! Are you alright? How are you feeling? Wait- let me get a doctor,"
And he rushed from the room, leaving the boy lying on his bed, still smiling slightly.
o0o
Damien returned within minutes, bringing with him both a nurse and a doctor. He looked as if he was jammed in between being over the moon with joy, and overwhelmed with worry and fear.
The doctor he had brought was one he hadn't had any dealings with before, as her shift had only started an hour or so ago, but the young woman seemed warm and professional.
The nurse walked over to the far side of the bed and began to change the drip which was attached to Harry's forearm, while the doctor went straight to Harry.
"Good morning Harry! It's great to see you awake, how are you feeling?" She said as she walked over to the bed, and lifted Harry's wrist from where it lay, searching for his pulse.
Harry smiled as she spoke; her voice was happy and caring. Overall, he was feeling okay, although his head was throbbing terribly, and he was rather confused as to what had happened. All these thoughts went through his head quite quickly, and he was pleased that this woman would be able to tell him why he was there, and hopefully put a stop to this headache, but he didn't say anything.
This confused him slightly, answer her, he thought. But it wouldn't come. He didn't know quite what to say, or which words would explain his answer properly.
Finally, in his need to say something, he let out a jerky, guttural "I- , a- a- I" But upon realising his complete lack of sense, he stopped and scrunched his face, feeling the headache more than ever.
"Okay honey," Said the doctor calmly. "Don't worry, I just want you to relax for a second while I check that you're doing okay, and then we'll have a chat about what's happened to you, I 'm sure this is all very confusing, hmm?" She smiled at him, and the expression calmed him slightly, although the pain in his head was growing rapidly.
The two women bustled around Harry for another minute or so, with Damien hovering in the background worriedly. The older woman asked the nurse to go and fetch something for her, and the nurse left.
The doctor pulled up two chairs to Harry's bed, and beckoned to Damien, who walked over and lowered himself into one of them, smiling down at Harry.
"Okay then Honey," the woman began, "My names Doctor Andrews, and I'd like to have a talk with you, is that okay?"
Harry's mouth jerked into a slight smile, showing both acceptance and some slight confusion.
"Do you understand Harry?" asked the woman. Harry furrowed his brow, strained a little, and then seemed to change his mind, and jerkily nodded his head upwards.
Doctor Andrews smiled, "That's great Hon."
Damien watched the short exchange with trepidation, he was pleased that Harry seemed aware of his surroundings and appeared to understand what was happening, but something was obviously out of place.
The priest's foremost fear was that Harry would loose his awareness completely, and become nothing more than an empty shell; this fear had, thankfully, been driven away; but it was now replaced with other uncertainties. Had the child lost his memory? Did he even know who Damien was?
"Do you know where you are at the moment Harry?" The woman asked, Harry's face once again got that strained look, as if he were searching for something.
Just as the boy opened his mouth, the door to the room opened, and in walked the nurse from earlier, carrying a shallow basin containing a syringe and two small bottles of clear liquid.
As soon as Damien and the doctor took this in, they turned back to look at Harry, but he seemed to have lost what he had been on the verge of saying, and was once more looking forward intently, probing through his consciousness for whatever it was he could not find.
The nurse walked over and stood at the foot of the bed, beaming at Harry. "Hi," she said, quietly.
"This is Nurse Jenkins Harry," said the doctor, "She needs to give you some medicine, is that okay?"
Harry nodded jerkily once again. But brought up his hand as the nurse advanced. He was not signalling her to stop, so much as he seemed to be trying to communicate some kind of need. He gestured, as someone might when trying to get across a particularly important point in a conversation.
Once again he was trying to say something, he opened his mouth, began to form the beginnings of words, ideas, questions, but they flew away just as he began to make the speech. Finally, giving up in frustration, he made a short noise of irritation.
The doctor stood, "Okay Harry, try not to fret, this is going to be hard, but we're going to get you through it okay? Just relax, yes? Okay. Can you try and show me what it is that's bothering you? It doesn't matter if you can't, just take it slowly,"
Harry looked thoughtful for a second, and then raised his hand up to his head, he placed his palm against his temple, and made a slight whimpering noise.
The sound was so hopeless and pathetic that it tugged mercilessly at Damien's heart, and he stood abruptly, striding over to Harry's side and taking his hand.
The change had come across the child so abruptly that it took the priest by surprise, only minutes before Harry had been smiling quite contentedly; now, a fat tear was squeezing out of the side of Harry's eye, and his expression was despondent.
"Okay Harry, I see, it's hurting? Yes?" Harry made and affirmative noise in the back of his throat. "Alright, don't worry, we'll sort that right away." The woman turned to the nurse and began to instruct in a calm voice.
Damien turned back to Harry, who now had tears flowing steadily down his face. Damien felt as if someone had physically assaulted him, it killed him inside to see Harry so distressed.
"Shhh," he said, "Don't fret child, I'm here, everything's going to be fine, you're going to be just fine."
He clutched the boy's hand, and was reassured to feel him squeeze back.
o0o
Harry was so confused, he just didn't understand. It had been alright just a while ago, as if he were all wrapped up in something that was keeping him sane, but now he just didn't know. He didn't understand.
He was thinking quite clearly, but couldn't find the words to voice his thoughts or questions. He knew there was a reason for him being here, he could sense it, just out of reach. And this man at his side, Harry knew him, he was safe, comforting; but Harry couldn't place how they had been involved, or how they came to know each other. And his head, his head was hurting so much. He hadn't even noticed to begin with, but now it was throbbing with such anger and pain that Harry couldn't help but let the tears fall.
The doctor who had talked to him was walking back over now. "Okay Harry, I can see this is very hard, don't worry, there's some relief on the way. We'll get you feeling better in no time."
The doctor was accurate in her prediction, and the nurse returned within a minute or two, but to Harry it felt like an eternity. An eternity of pain and confusion. And he just didn't understand.
But when help finally did come, it was almost instantaneous, he was completely unaware of the injection he was given, caught up in the pain of his head, but he felt the effects right away. It was as if a cool hand were gently stroking his brow, chasing away the hurt, covering it up, and clearing his head.
Harry opened his eyes, having been unaware up until that point that they had been closed at all.
He saw two people looking down at him. One was the man he knew, but couldn't quite place, and the other was a new man.
"There you go kid, that better?" said the new man. Harry was confused by his appearance, but moved his head in a slow nod.
"Good, I'm John. I'm a doctor here." Harry's expression must have betrayed his thoughts, and the new doctor laughed a little. "Yes, that's right, another doctor! Sorry about that, this must be a little confusing. Doctor Andrews called me because I know more about what's happened to you, and I can help you better than her. She hasn't abandoned you though!" he said gesturing to the foot of the bed, where both the female doctor and the nurse from earlier stood smiling, albeit slightly concernedly.
Harry smiled back, although had to look away, because it hurt his neck to lift his head up from the bed to look at them. Obviously seeing this, the male doctor spoke again, "Would you like to sit up a little Harry? Make you a bit more comfortable?"
Harry nodded, and the man adjusted some controls attached to the bed which caused the whole of the bit that supported his head and back to rise up automatically.
Harry smiled at this, magic, he thought.
"There you go!" said John, "That better?" Harry nodded again, realising how repetitive he was becoming. He wanted to thank this man, but it wasn't there, it wouldn't come. He got slightly angry at this, it was stupid! Just thank him! But how? Harry thought hard, I want to thank him, I need to say thank you, and that was it! Those were the words!
He forced his mouth to form the new found words, and said shakily, "Thank you".
The doctor smiled, "That's quite alright kid, it's what I'm here for. Now lets get you all sorted out."
Damien's heart leapt at the sound of Harry speaking, he didn't even know why, but the boy had obviously found it hard. Head trauma affecting speech? It was not anything Damien had ever heard of before, but then again, he was definitely no expert in the matter.
The two women had now left, and John had sat down, indicating that Damien should do the same. The priest liked this new doctor; he seemed more personal, more forthcoming.
"Alright then Harry. You are currently in hospital, you had that one worked out already I assume?" John said, half teasingly. Harry nodded, smiling, slightly embarrassed.
"Good. Right, next question – maybe a bit harder – do you know how you came to be here?"
Harry dropped his eyes, feeling useless in the eyes of this question; no, he did not know what had happened to him. Or in fact, who him was.
He shook his head.
"Okay, don't worry, that's extremely common after and injury like yours, and is by no means a permanent thing, there's lots of things we can do to help you remember. Can you remember much at all?"
Another shake.
"Okay, what about Damien here," he said, indicating the man beside Harry.
Damien! Of course! He remembered the name, he knew the name. This man was Damien, he was… a friend? Family?
Harry wasn't sure how to answer the question. He nodded his head, then shook, then shrugged his shoulders; all the time very aware of the fact he was holding this man's hand, and he was sitting right beside him.
John chuckled a little, "Not sure huh? Well don't dwell on that just for the moment, I want to talk to you about a couple of other things. You've had a nasty blow to the head Harry, very nasty. When you came in to the hospital, you were in a very bad way, so we took you into theatre and patched you up. With me so far? Good. Now, there are lots of different complications that come with head trauma, and every person is different. Now, obviously, this is just me talking, but I'm going to go through with you what I think is wrong, okay? And if I get something wrong, or you disagree, just stop me, yes?"
Harry nodded, he understood.
"Good. Now, I think that because of you having that hit on the head, you've undergone some brain damage. I know that sounds awful – but please try not to panic or worry too much, you seem to be doing very well considering what you've been through. You seem to be fully aware of you surroundings, and you're understanding everything that's happening, and that's really good. However, you're having some problems communicating with me, am I right?"
Another nod.
"Okay, well this is something very easy to pinpoint and define. What I think has happened, is that you've damaged the part of your brain called the Broca's area, which is just here," he said, gently placing two fingers on the side and towards the front of Harry's head. "This part of your brain is the bit concerned with producing speech. Because it's been damaged, I think you're having some problems expressing yourself, finding it hard to find the right words?"
Another nod, accompanied by a worried look, and wide eyes.
"This problem is known as aphasia, and is something that a lot of people who've suffered brain damage struggle with. Form what I've seen from you today, I think you have quite a severe case of this, but it's honestly not something to get worked up about, so please try not to worry. Your condition is not permanent, and we can help you through it, to get you back to your old self. Unfortunately there is no quick way to cure aphasia, and the process relies almost completely on you and how hard you work at it. You literally need to re-learn how to use language to express your thoughts and feelings." The man paused, looking Harry in the eye, "Do you understand?"
Harry nodded, yes, he did understand. He understood exactly what was being said, and he understood how hard this was going to be. Damien squeezed his hand reassuringly. Harry turned to the man, he was so familiar. Harry knew him.
Damien. That was the man's name. Harry said it out loud, "Damien".
"Harry," came the calm, understanding reply. Harry wanted to explain that he couldn't quite grasp at how they knew each other, but couldn't see how he would do it. He understood all the concepts of his feelings, but not how they could be portrayed using words. His thoughts came in images and feelings, not words.
He lifted his free hand up to his head, resting it there for a moment, and then moved it slowly over, so his fingers rested on the older man's temple.
I know you.
Damien smiled, in a rudimentary way, he understood the meaning of this gesture - Harry recognised that they knew each other, but couldn't remember the when's, where's, and how's.
Unsure how to respond, the priest turned to John. "How do we work on getting Harry's memory back?"
"Well, amnesia is very common amongst head injury patients, but varies a lot from each individual. Harry's memory loss seems to be very widespread, and I think probably stems more from the shock of the situation, than the head trauma itself." Addressing Harry now, the doctor went on, "I think you're memory loss is of a very short term kind; in other words, I believe your brain has simply let the pathways to you memories close off, as if the doors to them have been closed. I do not, however, think the doors have been locked."
Harry was inquisitive now, not only about the things he had forgotten, but also about how exactly the memories would be re-found. Before, he had recalled Damien's name simply from hearing it, part of him felt it would be the same for everything else. There was also a part of him that thought, if he could just remember a little bit, the rest would come back by itself.
It turned out, as John outlined his theory, that it was almost exactly as Harry had thought. The doctor believed if Harry was prompted, he would recall what he was being provoked into remembering, and that, hopefully, this would cause a chain reaction of recall.
"Okay then Harry, remember we can stop anytime you want, ready?"
Harry nodded eagerly. It was the strangest feeling, he was about to find out who he was, what he had done, where he was from, and how he came to be where he was. Things he really should know. He felt an odd mixture of excitement and nervousness as John began to talk again.
"Can you remember your surname Harry?" Asked the doctor.
No. A shake of the head.
"Okay. I say, your surname is either Jones, or Potter. Can you tell me which one's right Harry?"
Harry Jones? That didn't seem right at all, he moved past it quickly. Harry Potter?
Harry Potter.
Harry James Potter.
The-Boy-Who-Lived. The bane of the Dursley's existence. The wizard. The speccy, little first year. The heir of Slytherin? The Godson of Sirius Black. The fourth champion. The murderer of Cedric Diggory. The blood that revived the Dark Lord. The coward that hid in his school. The idiot that got caught. The whore of Lord Voldemort. The destroyer of Lord Voldemort. The-Boy-Who-Ran-Away.
Fuck.
o0o
A/N Thank you to all my reviewers, without you there is no story