The Return of the Father: Aftermath

Thank you to all of the amazing reviewers from the last chapter. Have I mentioned lately how much I appreciate it?

-------------------------------Hospital Wing

He really shouldn't have been so surprised.

Truly, how many times had he woken up to that horrible disinfectant smell of the obsessively clean Hospital Wing? And considering what his last memories were, it really should have been expected.

Madame Pomfrey was rather obsessive with her patients – or victims, depending on your tolerance for medical help – and there had truly been no way could have escaped her so soon after being involved with a battle.

And yet, when Harry had drifted slowly back into awareness, he'd been mildly shocked to find himself lying in the infirmary. At the moment though, the covers were just too comfy, and he was just too sore. He wanted nothing more than to drift back asleep for the rest of the summer.

He was only allowed to pursue that goal for a few moments before he realized what his memories implied. Had his patronus worked? Was everyone all right? Harry's eyes snapped open and he shot up in bed, looking around wildly.

"Hey, hey, stop that. It's all right now, you're safe." A gentle voice quietly soothed. Harry turned to see his father.

"You're all right." He whispered, finding that his voice was raspy and sore. He'd done so much screaming and yelling before, it was no small wonder that he was able to speak at all, what with the urgent need of driving away the dementors gone.

He was slightly surprised that Madame Pomfrey hadn't cleared that right up, but considering what put him in the hospital wing, it could very well have been an issue of having many more important injuries to treat, considering how many beds he could see filled in his limited line of vision from the bed.

James gave him a small smile before pushing him back onto the bed. "I'm fine." He reassured. "How do you feel?"

Harry was about to open his mouth, but James covered it, "Nod for good, shake for bad. Pomfrey said to hold off on speaking while you can, at least for a few more hours when she can check you out again."

He found that strange, considering she was usually right there bustling about next to him when he woke. Even if she wasn't, the person next to him usually had strict instructions to get her when he did wake. Brushing it away as his father didn't want to share him quite yet, Harry shrugged his answer. He wasn't about to admit to feeling as horrible as he did, but he didn't want to lie either.

If his father's weak grin was any indication, he knew exactly what his son had been thinking. "You're still stuck here for a few days anyway." He said.

Wincing, Harry thought about how torturous that would be. As comfortable as the beds of the Hospital Wing were, he still wanted to be back in the Tower. That particular battle was one he'd fight later though, when his dad felt good and guilty for his boredom in the infirmary.

Harry took the silence that followed as an opportunity to study his father. He looked all right, no visible wear and tear.

What Harry didn't like was the way his eyes looked. There might not have been anything wrong physically, but something was worrying his father. Trying his best to communicate without words – a rule he predicted would soon be annoying, if it wasn't all ready, just where was Madame Pomfrey? – Harry gestured to his father with, what he hoped was, a concerned look on his face.

James knew what Harry was asking. He knew he looked worried and more than a little tired. How could he not? He'd been splitting every spare moment between Harry and the search. Sleeping for more than an hour was simply a luxury he could not afford.

Smiling best he could, which wasn't very much, James tried to reassure his son. "I'm fine. Just a little tired. You've been out of it for nearly two days." He explained, leaving the implication that he'd barely rested while his son had been recovering open in the air between them. Harry frowned, no doubt not liking that James had been neglecting his own rest, but he nodded all the same.

Harry's eyes left him and started to wander around the room. James knew Harry was performing a head count of everyone important to him.

He would find all except one.

James closed his eyes. He'd participated in the search nearly every moment of the last two days that hadn't been spent next to Harry. Even when he wasn't out looking actively, he'd been going over leads, contacting Order members, getting ideas from others, and comparing stories. Anything and everything that would help them.

There were few leads, almost all of which were some obscure reference a Death Eater had made to Snape. The fact that the man hadn't known about the abduction previously was unsettling to say the least.

So far, each lead hadn't panned out and each story was very similar to what he'd seen. He hadn't realized until too late…they'd played right into Voldemort's hands. Harry had done exactly what the Dark Lord had been expecting…what he needed to have happen to set his plan in motion.

--(FLASHBACK)—

James moaned into the ground. His whole body trembled, and he felt as though he'd just gotten over a horrible case of pneumonia or something.

Memories flooded back into James's mind, leaving him even more breathless than he had been a moment more. "Harry…" he moaned, twisting slightly. It didn't do much good, if anything, it made the shivers worse. James no longer cared though, he had to see if his son and friends were all right.

"No! Not him, you fool!"

The yell of an aggravated man startled James. It sounded so close. He could feel the ground shaking as if someone was coming towards him, and James hastily shut his eyes. It would do better to have someone believe him not to be much of a threat, so he would have the element of surprise. He didn't want to admit to himself just then that it wasn't much of an act. If, by a great deal of luck, the person coming towards him were an auror, he would pretend to come around.

"Are you sure? They said the dark haired one."

This voice was different from the first. A little less harsh, and a great deal younger. Actually, he sounded just as shaky as James felt. A hand grasped his shoulder and turned him around, James kept his eyes closed all the while.

"See, boy? Glasses, looks a lot like Harry Potter…wonder who he could be?"

"James Potter." The "boy" returned, audibly gulping. Clearly he'd made a mistake that his partner didn't like.

"I told you it wasn't him. We don't need Potter…we need Black."

Sirius? James had to fight everything in him to keep still. Whoever these people were, they wanted his best friend. Worst of all, James was hardly in a condition to help him. It had been too soon after a Dementor onslaught.

The steps moved away from him, and James listened carefully. If only he could transform to Prongs, who had much better sense than he did. The two men had stopped talking, which didn't bode well. Taking the chance, he cracked his eye open and looked to where he'd seen Sirius last.

His heart constricted painfully.

They'd found Sirius. The taller of the two men, who no doubt had the crueler of the two voices he'd heard before, was pulling Sirius over his shoulder. They were going to take him past the apparation barriers. Rolling himself back to his stomach, James used all of his strength to get into a kneeling position. His body shook violently in protest, and James cursed himself for having such a bad reaction to the Dementors.

As quickly as a shaking hand would, James drew his wand. The other Death Eater was getting something from his pocket at the same moment. James anticipated a wand, but faltered when he saw a child's top. What could a Death Eater want with…

"One…two…three!"

The same moment James realized the top had been a portkey – no doubt done by the Dark Lord himself and powerful enough to blast right through whatever wards there were – was simultaneous to the moment that the blasted object worked. With the blink of his eye, the two Death Eaters and Sirius were gone.

"Oh Merlin…Sirius!"

--(FLASHBACK)—

"Dad!"

The raspy cry broke James from his memories. Harry was sitting up in bed next to him looking more than a little concerned. "Sorry green eyes, I got caught up there for a second."

"Are you sure you're all right? You look tired. Where's Madame Pomfrey, is everyone okay?" Harry rushed out, his voice going even more hoarse.

Taking control of the situation, as his son was starting to look rather upset, James pressed a hand against Harry's still moving mouth. "I thought I said no talking." He scolded. "I'm fine, don't worry about me. Madame Pomfrey is in back healing Arthur Weasley, I'm afraid he got on the receiving end of a few nasty curses. If your friend Ron hadn't shown up when he did, he would have been far worse off."

The curious look on Harry's face prompted James to continue. Despite the circumstances, or how worried James was, he managed to crack a small smile. "I don't know what kind of books Ron reads, but somewhere along the line he picked up some interesting curses. He had that Death Eater on the ground screaming about non-existent bees in seconds."

Harry smiled, but wasn't put off for long. He waved his hand around the room, gesturing to everyone.

James sighed, "Everyone's all right, for the most part. If it wasn't life threatening, then Poppy didn't slow down to fix it. She's all on her own with this, because Fudge refuses to send a mediwitch with the three aurors he managed to spare." He explained, trying to keep the bitterness out of his voice. "He may have been willing to say Voldemort is back, but he isn't willing to tell the wizarding world that he's in business again. Apparently, a mediwitch at Hogwarts would give out the impression that things are getting out of control again."

Harry nodded, letting his eyes dart to each bed. Slowly, he turned back to his father with a decisive look on his face. Abandoning all speaking restraints, Harry croaked, "Where's Sirius. I can't find him."

His face paled, James was sure of it. How did one break to their son that the godfather he adored was in the hands of the enemy? Rushing on, James spoke hurriedly. "Hermione's all right for the most part, she got released yesterday. Charlie Weasley's a little worse for the wear, but he'll be okay, same for Bill. Remus is perfectly fine, so don't worry about that. And Dumbledore's his normal twinkle eyed self…"

"I didn't ask about them." Harry reminded, staring intently at his father. "Where's Padfoot?"

James hadn't really thought that his inventory of everyone else would sway Harry. He'd just put it off for himself, because voicing it to Harry would make things real. His jaw clenched and he let out a harsh breath. "Harry…" he started, knowing he was about to break his own son's heart. "Harry. Two Death Eaters were instructed to return right after the Dementor's did their job. No doubt Voldemort planned this whole thing, knowing you or Dumbledore could have produced a patronus strong enough to stop them. The apparated in with a portkey."

"Dad…" Harry trailed off, knowing where his father was going, but not wanting it to be true.

"I'd passed out before you ever cast the spell. I think I was the first to wake up though, and I saw them. I tried to curse them in time, I wasn't moving very fast, I thought they were going to apparate out, so they would have a ways to go and I'd get the chance to stop them." James explained, justifying his actions to them both. "I didn't realize it was a portkey until they were gone."

"Where is Sirius?" Harry asked slowly, true fear lacing his already shaky voice. James hated himself all the more.

Swallowing and looking away from his son, James whispered quietly, "I don't know. They took him with them. I'm sorry Harry."

He turned back to his horrified child, "They've got Sirius, Harry."

Don't hurt me, please? Summer's officially here, so I'll have more time to write now. Bear with me guys, and please review!

Stars Enchantress

Coming Soon: Searching for Sirius