Chapter 24 - Catching Up

Harry came to slowly. He felt groggy, and had the distinct feeling of having overslept and missed something terribly important. The memories filtered in frustratingly slowly, and he had to make a conscious effort to catch them as they flitted in and out of focus. He was in the hospital wing at Hogwarts, it must have been either early morning or late evening, judging by the long shadows marking the stone floor. He could have asked himself a thousand questions at that moment, but he felt numb and unable to think. Perhaps he'd been knocked out and given some strong potion that made him feel completely flat. It was an odd feeling, after a period of such turmoil, for Harry to suddenly find himself emotionless. He replayed the events at the hospital over and over again in his mind, but they didn't trigger any kind of reaction in him.

"Ah good you're awake. How are you feeling Mr Potter?"

Madame Pomfrey had appeared through the curtains around Harry's bed with an armful of bottles which she carefully placed onto the bedside table.

"Fine. Tired."

"Yes well, that's to be expected. Any pain?"

"No."

"Nausea?"

"No."

"Grand. Let me just run a few checks then."

She took out her wand and Harry recognised some of the patterns she traced in the air as being the same that Miriam had done.

"Madame Pomfrey, what time is it?"

"5.30 in the morning Mr Potter."

"Is Professor Dumbledore here?"

"He is, I expect he'll be along shortly."

Harry sat passively, thinking and feeling nothing, while Madame Pomfrey finished running her tests. Then, sure enough, Dumbledore's tall, striding form came sweeping into sight.

"Ah Harry, you're awake; good, good. Madame Pomfrey, a word?"

With the curtains around his bed now drawn, Harry could get a better look at his surroundings. He felt a slight pang at the familiarity of it all, he was really back at Hogwarts. The hospital wing wasn't exactly new territory for Harry either. He vividly recalled visiting Ron here after he'd been bitten by Norbert, and Hermione multiple times while she was petrified by the basilisk in their second year. Of course, Harry himself had spent his fair share of time under Madame Pomfrey's care too, having been attacked by Quirrell, deboned by Lockhart, after falling from his broomstick in his third year, and of course in his fourth year just after...

"Harry."

"Professor."

"I'm glad to hear you're feeling better. I know that there are two people who'd be very keen to see you, as soon as you're feeling up to it."

Something stirred in Harry at the mention of Ron and Hermione, but he couldn't tell if it was longing or fear.

"They know I'm here?"

"I did inform them last night, I also however, requested that they not visit you until you feel ready. It must feel strange being back here."

"A bit," Harry admitted.

"Now, I'm sure you must also be wondering about the arrangements for your schoolwork."

Dumbledore's smile told Harry immediately that Dumbledore knew full well that Harry had been thinking nothing of the sort.

"No doubt you will be anxious to catch up on what you've missed in order to achieve the best you can in your upcoming O.W.L.s. I'm sure it will be no surprise to you that Miss Granger is all too willing to fill you in. I have written to the examiners regardless to inform them of your circumstances, we have to do so several times each year for all sorts of reasons. You're not the first student to have extenuating circumstances and you'll be pleased to know that many go on to do just as well as their peers."

"Thank you Professor."

"I must go now Harry, I have a meeting with the Minister, unless you have any more questions?"

There was a long pause before Harry shook his head.

Dumbledore gave him a knowing look.

"No one was hurt Harry."

Harry nodded and kept his eyes fixed on his hands.

Dumbledore rose to leave.

"Oh, I almost forgot. This is for you."

He reached inside the folds of his robes and pulled out a long, thin package wrapped in brown paper.

Harry took it and immediately recognised the neat, curly lettering.

"Thank you Professor."

Once Dumbledore had left, Harry slowly unwrapped the parcel, revealing a black velvet box containing a long, dark green quill and a small note.

Dear Harry,

I hope you don't think it is inappropriate, me giving this to you. It belonged to my son, Paul. I bought it for him to encourage him to write down his thoughts and feelings, he said it sometimes helped him make sense of them. The quill is self-inking, it will never run out and its writing can only be read by the one who wrote it. I want you to have it now, and I hope it serves you well.

Best Wishes,

Miriam

Harry sighed heavily. So many people wanted to help him, but didn't they understand? He wasn't sure if he wanted to get over what had happened. Sure, some of his worst memories were of the last few months, but so were many of his best. Did he really want them to become the past, just something that happened to him once? He couldn't exactly forget about Voldemort; whatever he decided to do he knew he'd see him again, perhaps many times, maybe even to fight him. This wasn't over, and there was no point pretending that it was.

By the evening, Harry was agitated and already begging Madame Pomfrey to let him leave the Hospital Wing.

"Honestly Mr Potter," she huffed, "you've only been back 12 hours. You have a whole week here so you might as well get used to it."

He flicked through the copy of the Daily Prophet she'd given him in an effort to placate him. He was surprised to see that The Chudley Cannons had actually managed to win a game against Puddlemere United. Ron would be pleased. There was also a report on how successfully the Misuse of Muggle Artefacts Office had dealt with a man selling sports shoes to muggles which forced them to dance the Charleston every time they tried to run.

Ron and Hermione were coming to visit at three. Harry had already calmed down a lot and felt far less anxious about seeing them again. He was actually just looking forward to the company. Madame Pomfrey seemed to be feeling more positive too, and was happily floating non-melt icicles onto the excessively large Christmas tree at the opposite end of the room, humming 'God Rest Ye Merry Hippogriffs' to herself. Harry was surprised at how good he felt, how normal. The quill from Miriam lay untouched in its box on his bedside table.

"Harry!"

Hermione was running towards him with a huge, genuine smile on her face. Harry caught her in his arms and couldn't help but laugh. She felt warm and familiar, and he squeezed her tight.

"It's great to see you." She released him and plonked herself down on the bed. Ron was behind her, trying to hide his nerves behind his smile, but failing.

"Hey."

"Hey," Harry replied, "see the game yesterday?"

Ron visibly relaxed.

"Nah, couldn't get tickets. Bill went though, said it was awesome, he's supposed to be sending me some pictures."

"Wicked. So, how have you both been?"

"Fine."

"Bored."

Hermione rolled her eyes.

"Don't mind him, he's just moody because he wants to spend the holidays playing chess and I pointed out that he might want to start revising for his O.W.L.s.

Now it was Ron's turn to roll his eyes.

"Are many people here for Christmas?"

"A few, less than usual," replied Hermione, "a few N.E.W.T students have stayed to revise, and there are a couple of second years but we only ever see them at dinner. You should see what they've done to the Great Hall this year Harry, it looks great."

Harry asked after both their families and about how their O.W.L.s were going; he wanted to keep the conversation on them as much as possible, he wasn't ready for questions yet.

While they talked Hermione effortlessly charmed small pieces of coloured paper to fold into flower shapes which she then arranged on Harry's bedside table. They didn't leave until forced to by Madame Pomfrey two hours later. Harry couldn't believe how smoothly everything seemed to be going.

Voldemort scanned the pages of his diary frantically for something Harry had said to him once.

"I can see things sometimes... Things that you can see."

He and Harry had some kind of connection, one that ran deeper than just their feelings for each other. Harry must realise this. He'd be back soon.

So this was loneliness. He'd never known it. Time without Harry moved painfully slowly. How had he filled his time before Harry? He couldn't even remember. He didn't want to send his death eaters out again, Harry was sure to hear about it and then he might be more wary about coming home. He wished there was some way to contact Harry. He wished he would at least dream about him, hear his voice, feel the warmth of his body up against Voldemort's own. The memories created a painful pull in Voldemort's chest.

"Oh Harry, I cannot live like this." Nagini coiled herself around him and nuzzled the side of his head with her face. "Please come home soon."

The remainder of Harry's time in the Hospital Wing passed quickly and smoothly. Much to Madame Pomfrey's disapproval, Dumbledore had allowed Harry to leave a day early, and he made his way to the Gryffindor common room. Coming back to a place after so long causes a surreal feeling, as if the familiarity of the surroundings pushes itself towards you, onto you. He spoke the password Dumbledore had told him and the Fat Lady's portrait swung open to allow him entry. Ron and Hermione were sat in front of the fire surrounded by books and scrolls of parchment. Hermione saw him first.

"Harry. I thought..."

"Dumbledore."

He wandered over. Ron had a charms book open on his lap and Hermione was surrounded by bits of parchment with bullet pointed notes on.

"They're for you," she explained, "McGonagall asked me to make them to help you catch up."

"Right, thanks." That would be good, he told himself, to help him get back into the swing of things.

"You'll be able to catch up no problem."

"Until you get to charms," Ron grumbled, staring down blankly at the pages of the textbook.

"Honestly Ron, did you really think you could leave it until Christmas to start learning the whole course?"

"Well, yeah. It didn't look that hard when you were doing it."

"Well that's because I practiced."

"Yeah, right; wanna play chess Harry?"

"Sure."

Hermione huffed disapprovingly but said nothing.

It all started off easy, the pretending, the laughing, the chatting. But it got harder. Ron ran out of small talk and Hermione was busy making Harry's notes. The silence made time pass more slowly. And slower time meant more time, and more time meant more thoughts. If time was passing slowly for him, it must be even worse for Voldemort. How would he be spending his time? Was he, at this very moment, working on a plan to steal Harry back? Or was he totally grief-stricken, sitting at his desk again with Nagini trying to reassure him? Which would Harry prefer? If Voldemort did take him back, would he be the same? Or was he so angry with Harry that all his feelings had vanished?

He was interrupted from his musings by a loud rumble from Ron's stomach. Hermione and Ron exchanged glances.

"Harry," Hermione began gently, "we might go down to dinner now. Did you want us to bring you something back?"

"No," Harry said quickly, "I'll come with you." He didn't particularly want to go to the Great Hall, but he found that he was suddenly terrified at the idea of being alone.

He followed the two of them in awkward silence as they made their way to the Great Hall. Hermione was right, the decorations were beautiful. The usual plain white candles that floated above them had been swapped for red and green ones, long, sharp icicles like the ones Madame Pomfrey had had in the hospital wing hung from the top of every window and the large stone gargoyles on the wall had been enchanted to look like ice statues. At the very end of the hall, behind Dumbledore's seat at the top table was a very large tree, decorated in red and gold with tiny moving lights. Harry noticed that Dumbledore's place was empty.

"Doesn't Dumbledore come to dinner?"

"Hardly ever," replied Ron, "we've hardly seen him at all since..." He stopped and shuffled awkwardly. Harry ignored this and took his seat at the Gryffindor table. There were very few students who had chosen to stay for Christmas, but one in particular caught his attention.

"Malfoy's here?"

"Yeah," Ron grimaced. "Complete prat he's been, spent every class bragging to anyone who'd listen about some expensive holiday he had planned, Hermione and I thought we'd be rid of him, and then he bloody stays here, doesn't say much mind you, just sort of... glowers. Still, strange for him not to go home to Mummy and Daddy."

Harry knew they were all thinking about the breakout from Azkaban. Malfoy's father was one of those who had escaped. Reading about it hadn't been easy, it seemed Voldemort had been carrying on his old ways behind Harry's back for longer than he had previously thought. Harry tried to kid himself that he was glad to be rid of him. Then he remembered the feeling of being held by him...

"Harry?" Hermione looked concerned.

"Sorry, daydreaming. Can you pass the potatoes?" He saw Hermione attempt to cover up her pitying expression and felt a sudden rush of guilt. This must be hard for them too.

"Hermione, could you go over some of those notes with me after dinner? It'd be good to know where I stand with it all."

She looked surprised.

"Oh, well, you don't have to start straight away Harry, I've made them quite concise so that..."

"Yeah well, the sooner the better though right?"

"Yes, I suppose so."

Going over the notes didn't make Harry feel any better. Seeing how many pages there were made it all seem very daunting.

"I know it seems like a lot Harry, but we'll have plenty of extra revision time before June."

"Yeah," said Harry, "right, ok." He stood up. "Well, I'm gonna go and start looking over these then."

"Goodnight Harry."

"Won't be long, mate."

"Ok, night."

Once he was alone Harry let out a long, deep exhale. He had been foolish to think he'd be able to cope with coming back. He sat down on his bed, noticing that his trunk had been delivered for him. Hedwig fluttered in her cage, making Harry smile.

"Hello Hedwig." He took her out and stroked her soft feathers. "Sorry I was away so long. I was.." He rummaged in his trunk and found a packet of owl treats, which he fed a couple of to Hedwig. For a rash moment, Harry thought about sending her with a letter to Voldemort, to let him know that he was ok, and to find out how he was doing. But he quashed the thought, knowing that Dumbledore wouldn't approve, and would probably somehow know if Harry tried to do so. He tried to comprehend the fact that if he ever saw Voldemort again, it'd probably be to fight. They'd never chat, or touch, or kiss again. It didn't seem to sink in. He was still wearing the cloak that Voldemort had given to him. He shrugged it off and buried it at the bottom of his trunk, at the same time pulling out his pyjamas and the Marauder's Map. He scrambled into bed and took the dreamless sleep potion Madame Pomfrey had given him. As he waited for the effects to kick in, he looked over the map. He saw himself in the dormitory, and Ron and Hermione downstairs in the common room. He then turned his attention to Dumbledore's office where the Headmaster was pacing backwards and forwards, but it was Malfoy's name that intrigued Harry the most. It was well after hours, but according to the map, Malfoy was making his way to the seventh floor. Harry meant to keep watch to see where he went, but the potion was doing its job, and Harry could no longer fight against the pull of sleep.