Disclaimer I do not own Harry Potter and everything recognisable belongs to J K Rowling. Also this story is inspired by 'A Shattered Prophecy' by Project Dark Overlord.
Chapter Fifty Three
The doors to the elevator opened and Harry hurried out. His heart hammered in his chest as he searched for Damien. The feeling of panicked fear hadn't left him since he received a text message from Damien, about an half hour after experiencing the agonising pain in his scar.
DAD SERIOUSLY HURT. AT ST MUNGOS
Harry didn't care if the whole of the wizarding world was out looking for him. After reading Damien's message, he had apparated out of his hotel room and appeared in the dark alley, just behind the entrance to St Mungos hospital. He had only just remembered to apply a glamour as he entered the hospital.
A quick enquiry at the front desk told him James Potter was in theatre, having emergency treatment. Harry had set off at once, searching for him.
Harry ran down the long corridor with rooms lined on either side. He turned the corner and stopped, catching sight of his younger brother, sitting with his head in his hands. He was alone. Seeing Damien look so dejected, so broken, so very un-Damien like, it made Harry's blood run cold. He couldn't move. With great effort, Harry forced himself to walk. Damien looked up as he heard the footsteps coming towards him. His eyes were red, his face wet with tears. That's what made Harry speed up.
Damien frowned at Harry, not recognising him. Harry didn't slow down, but a silent spell made his glamour fade. Damien's eyes widened and he choked out a surprised sob at the sight of his brother. He stood up and before Harry knew it, Damien was running towards him. Harry raced towards him too. Damien threw his arms around Harry, hugging him tightly.
Damien was sobbing, his face hidden in Harry's shoulder. For several moments, Harry could do nothing but hold onto his brother. Taking in a steadying breath, Harry pulled Damien away but never let go of him.
"What happened?" he asked urgently.
Damien wiped at his face, shaking his head. "I…I don't know. The Healers...they're in with dad. Mum, uncle Siri and Moony are inside with them." He nodded at the door at the far end of the corridor. "I went in with them, but they – the Healers brought me out." He looked at Harry with haunted eyes. "I caught a glimpse of him, Harry. He...he's lost so much blood. He…He didn't look…he didn't look alive."
Terror had gripped at Harry's heart. "Do you know what happened to him?" he asked. "How was he injured?"
Damien told Harry what happened after he went into the Burrow. Harry listened, his stomach lurching with disgust at the attack by the Death Eaters under the guise of trying to find him.
"They all left to go help," Damien was saying. "Then we got a message from Uncle Siri. He said that it wasn't only Death Eaters there. He...he was there too."
Harry's breath caught in his chest. Voldemort had been present at the attack. That was very unusual.
Damien was struggling to hold back his tears as he looked at Harry. "He did this," he said in a broken voice. "He did this to dad. He told dad he had attacked the village, pretending he was looking for you, just to get dad to come out there. Uncle Siri said...he said he saw him cast the killing curse at dad, but Professor Dumbledore arrived and pulled dad out of the way just in time. If he hadn't..." Damien stopped, his eyes brimming with tears.
Harry felt like someone had stabbed him, straight in the heart. Voldemort had tried to kill James. He had actually cast the killing curse. Harry knew Voldemort didn't have any qualms about killing, but he didn't usually go out of his way to strike someone. That job was left to his Death Eaters, or in some cases it used to be his – Harry's – job. Voldemort went through the trouble of attacking the village and drawing James out there under the false hope of finding Harry, just to kill him. Harry knew why. Voldemort did it to get to him. It was Harry that he was truly trying to inflict pain on, not James.
Before Harry could say anything he heard the door click open. Harry turned around, away from Damien, casting the glamour charm again. Damien stumbled back towards the bench he had been sitting on.
Harry slipped into the doorway of an empty room, just as Lily, Sirius and Remus stepped into the corridor. Peeking around the corner, Harry watched Lily, her face wet with tears, walk over to embrace Damien. Sirius and Remus were looking awfully pale.
"Mum, how is he?" Damien asked at once. "How's dad? Is he going to be okay?"
Lily wasn't answering and just stood with her arms around Damien.
"We don't know yet, Damy," Sirius replied. "Healer Davis is still attending to him." Sirius pulled Lily into his arms, holding her tight as she cried on his shoulder.
Harry watched, feeling his heart ache. He wanted nothing more than to step out and go to his distraught mother, to embrace her and comfort her. But even if that were possible, he wouldn't really know how to comfort her.
A Healer walked out of the room, closing the door behind him.
"Healer Davis," Lily hurried past Sirius to go to him. "How is my husband? Is he going to be okay?" she asked, her voice thick with tears.
Harry saw the way the Healer hesitated, before looking at Lily with sad eyes. His heart sank.
"I'm really sorry Mrs Potter, but your husband is showing no improvement," Healer Davis said. "He was hit with a very dark curse, the Markiline curse. It strips the victim of their magic. It leaves them with very little to no magical stores. As you all are aware, healing can only be done if the patient has magic within them. Unfortunately, Mr Potter has only traces of magic left, so he's not responding to any of our healing charms or potions. His body isn't able to sustain itself until his magic replenishes itself. I am very sorry. Mr Potter won't make it through the night."
Harry felt his knees weaken when the realisation of what the Healer said made it through his shocked system. James wasn't going to make it. His dad was dying.
Lily started shaking her head, her eyes filling with fresh tears. "No," she whispered. "No. That's...That's not true. It can't...He won't leave me. James can't leave me!"
Remus was by Lily's side in a heartbeat, holding onto her as she struggled to accept her husband's fate. Sirius had stepped up to face the Healer with a snarl.
"What do you mean he won't make it?" He shouted. "Of courses he'll make it! James can't die. You don't know what you're talking about!"
"Please, Healer Davis," Remus called, "There must be something you can do. Please, don't give up on him."
"I'm sorry," the Healer said, "There is nothing I can do. It's hopeless. He doesn't have enough magic to recover."
"What if someone donated their magic to James?" Sirius asked. "He would be okay then, right? He could survive?"
The Healer hesitated. "In theory, yes. But it's not a practical possibility," he said quickly. "Firstly, the donor would have to be a blood relative. The cores have to be similar before the body can accept the magic, otherwise the body will just reject it. But to give your magic to someone is not only excruciatingly painful, but a very dangerous thing to do. The chances of the donor surviving the procedure is little to none."
"But there's a possibility it might work?" Damien asked, stepping forward. "I'm ready to try it. I'm his son, he can take my magic–"
"I'm sorry," the Healer shook his head at Damien. "You're far too young. You don't even have your full magic yet."
"But–" Damien started.
"Son," the Healer reached out and held Damien by the shoulder. His kind eyes crinkled with sympathy. "The transfer would kill you, and it wouldn't even be enough to save your father. The amount he needs to survive is more than anyone can safely give."
Harry could see the tears that fell from Damien's eyes. He didn't say anything but just stood there as the Healer patted his shoulder and turned to Sirius and Remus.
"You can go in and sit with him," he said. "It's widely believed that patients in this condition can hear everything you say to them. Talk to him. Tell him you all here with him."
The Healer apologised again for not being able to do more and walked away, leaving the four heartbroken people in the corridor. Harry pushed himself into the doorway, but the Healer didn't even turn his head in his direction. He walked past Harry, his head dropped low. Harry turned back to see Sirius was hugging Damien, trying to comfort him, while his own pain had brought tears to his eyes. Remus was next to Lily, who was slowly losing it.
"James is going to leave me," she was saying. "He's going to leave me."
"Lily," Remus started.
"He promised he would never leave me," Lily said. She looked Remus dead in the eyes. "He swore we would be together. He promised he would always be here for me. He can't break his promise. He can't leave me."
"Lily," Remus was sobbing. "Lily, please..."
"He can't leave me," Lily cried. She turned to Sirius, who had a distraught Damien clutched to his chest. "Sirius, do something! Please, don't let him leave me. I can't live without him. Please, do something!"
Remus engulfed her into a hug, muffling the rest of her words. She clutched at Remus and cried. Harry turned away. He couldn't see her like that, in so much pain, so much anguish. He slid to the floor, helpless to do anything but listen to the cries of his mother and brother.
xxx
Harry checked his glamour was still in place. He pointed his wand to his throat and changed his voice, deepening it. Taking in a breath, he walked purposefully forward, to the room his mum, brother, Remus and Sirius had entered ten minutes ago. It had taken Harry that long to prepare himself to do what he knew he had to.
He stopped before the door and tried to calm his wildly beating heart. He raised a hand and knocked the door, before turning the handle. The door opened and Harry walked into the intensive care room.
The first thing he saw was Lily, Damien, Remus and Sirius all gathered around James. Harry had to stifle his gasp when he saw James lying on the bed. He was deathly pale. There were all sorts of tubes attached to him, helping him breathe, regulating his temperature and Merlin knew what else. Harry was left stunned at the sight.
"Hello?"
Harry snapped out of the shock to look at Sirius, whose red-rimmed eyes were narrowed at him. "Can we help you?" he asked, rather irately.
Harry cleared his throat. "I'm really sorry," he started, "but can I ask you all to please step outside for a moment? I have to change one of the machines for Mr Potter."
Damien's expression changed, as he recognised Harry under the glamour. He looked at Harry with wide eyes but didn't say anything.
"What's the point?" Sirius asked. "What difference will changing the machines make? Healer Davis said there's no hope!"
"There's always hope," Harry said quietly.
Lily looked around at Harry, her face still pink, her cheeks wet with tears.
"I won't take too long," Harry said. "Please, if you don't mind." He stood to the side, gesturing to the open door.
Remus held onto Sirius's arm and nudged him out of the room, followed by Lily and Damien. Harry shared a look with Damien before he went out of the room. Harry closed the door behind them and locked it. He cast a quick 'Silencio' charm on the door.
Slowly, he turned around and looked at James, lying on the bed before him, taking his last breaths. Harry didn't know why, but he lifted the glamour, taking the charm away from his voice too. He wanted it to be him – the real him – standing next to his dad. It didn't feel right any other way.
Harry looked at the machine that was hooked up to James, showing the current magic level in his body. Harry was no Healer, but even he could see James had very little magic left in him.
Harry's eyes trailed from the machine up to James's face. He had grown up hating this man. Even though he now knew the truth; that it wasn't his dad that hurt him, Harry couldn't help but feel the pain, the fear that was associated with James Potter.
It wasn't just the beatings Harry remembered. It was the countless nights he spent awake, thinking up ways to make his dad stop hurting him. He used to promise himself that he would behave and do whatever his dad wanted him to do. He would make his dad love him. The heartache that came at the realisation that his dad had always loved him, and had never hurt him, left Harry broken.
Harry stepped forward, his eyes on James, studying the man as he lay comatose before him. He pulled in a shaky breath and spoke in the quiet room, "I don't know if it's true, what that Healer said, about you being able to hear us talking to you," Harry started. "I don't know if you can understand me, or if I'm just talking to the walls right now, but...but I need to say this." He paused and took in a breath. "I grew up hating you," he confessed. "I believed the lies. I fell for the tricks and I...I really, really hated you. When I met you I didn't give you a chance." His voice dipped and Harry closed his eyes. "I'm sorry. God, I'm so sorry. If I could go back and make things right–" He stopped, before shaking his head. "I messed up. I had a chance to come back, to stay with you, to be with my family but...but I blew it."
He stared at James as he lay, unmoving on the bed. "It's so strange," Harry said quietly. "I spent most of my life wanting to destroy you, but now, seeing you like this; it feels like a part of me is dying with you." He looked away as his eyes started to burn and his vision blurred. "I don't even know you," he said in a strained voice. "I don't know what your favourite food is, or your favourite colour. I don't know what you like doing on the weekends or what your hobbies are. The only thing I know is that you like Quidditch." He reached up and wiped his cheek. "But that's not enough," he said quietly. "I know what my chances are of walking away after this war ends. I know that it's a possibility – a good possibility – that I'll never get to know you. I won't survive that long." He looked at James. "But I can't live knowing that I'll never get the chance to get to know you, because you're not here anymore. I need that hope that one day, when all of this is over, I can finally come home, come back to you."
The wand in his hand transfigured into a knife. For a moment, Harry did nothing but stand there, bracing himself. He could do this. Transferring his magic was the only way to save his dad's life. He knew what the Healer had said was true; it was a dangerous and risky procedure, but he couldn't stand back and let his dad die.
With trembling fingers, he took James's hand and turned it over, facing the palm up.
"From my blood to yours,"
Harry ran the sharp blade across his own hand, leaving a trail of blood.
"From my essence to you,"
He made a cut across James' palm.
"I give you my core,"
Harry laid his injured hand onto James's, making both cuts meet.
"So that yours can be restored."
At the last word, the cuts on both hands locked and Harry felt a searing pain take hold of him. It was like nothing Harry had ever felt before. His knees threatened to buckle under him, so he reached out and held onto the bed, keeping himself upright. He felt his magic rip from within him and transfer through the cut, into James. The excruciating agony made him cry out, but he kept the connection going. He had to make sure his dad got enough magic to heal and recover.
A strange glow started to appear around James. The paleness of his skin was changing, bringing a more healthier pink in his cheeks. The swelling around his closed eyes vanished. His chest began to rise and fall, without any help from the tubes. Harry kept the transfer going. He looked to the monitor to see the level of magic in James was rapidly increasing. There was only a little more to go and then his dad would have the required amount to heal and recover.
Harry gripped the bed tightly. The pain was pushing him to the brink of collapsing. He held on fast, fighting with himself. A part of him wanted to quit and let go now, unable to take anymore of the pain, but the other part of him was holding on, wanting to make sure he gave enough.
Harry looked to the monitor again, seeing the level rise until it hit the required mark. With another cry, Harry pulled his hand away and fell to the floor. The connection broke and the glow around James started to dim.
Harry was shaking, his whole body trembling from pain. He was sweating from head to foot. With great effort, he sat up and looked at James. His dad was still unconscious, but now he looked like he was merely sleeping. Harry saw his wand lying on the bed, having changed back itself from the knife he had transfigured. Pushing himself up and holding onto the bed for support, Harry picked up his wand and pointed it at James's bleeding palm.
"Episkey," he whispered.
The cut on his dad's palm started healing at once, closing up in seconds. Harry held up his own hand, to see it bleeding profusely. He pointed the wand at his own hand and repeated the spell. Nothing happened. Harry had given so much magic to James, he didn't have enough left in him to heal. His core would replenish his magic with time, but until then, Harry was left with very little magic.
Harry ripped a strip of cloth from the bed and wrapped it around his bleeding hand. A few drops of blood fell to the ground, but Harry, in his haze of pain, didn't notice. He stood up. His legs shook under him and Harry had to hold onto the bed to steady himself. His entire body ached. Through bleary eyes, Harry saw the door rattle, but no sound came from it. He realised his 'Silencio' spell had blocked out the noise of Sirius and Remus trying to get back into the room, but he could see their efforts straining against the door. Harry knew he had to leave before they barrelled their way inside. Giving James a last look, Harry stumbled to the other side of the room, took a fistful of powder from the pot on the mantle and threw it into the fireplace, calling the room number and address of the motel he was staying at. Harry was gone in a flash of green flames, just as the door was finally knocked open and Sirius, Remus, Lily and Damien hurried inside, just in time to see James slowly open his eyes.
xxx
James couldn't see, even though his eyes were open. It was as though he were both awake and asleep at the same time. His body was numb, all feeling drained from his limbs, but his mind was sharp and on alert. He could hear voices, several of them, talking to him. Slowly, the voices started making sense. They were saying one word, again and again.
"James."
He could hear Lily crying. His head tilted towards the sound of her voice and he blinked, trying to clear his vision. His eyesight returned slowly until he could make out the blurry image of the woman he loved with all his heart and soul. He could tell, even with his impaired vision, that Lily was sobbing uncontrollably. James tried to talk, he wanted to tell her that he was okay, but he couldn't speak. His tongue felt swollen.
"Mr Potter?"
James turned to the fuzzy image of a man he didn't recognise.
"Mr Potter," the man leaned closer, his hand resting gently on James's shoulder. "Mr Potter, you are at St Mungo's Hospital. I am Healer Davis. Can you hear me?"
James opened his mouth to reply, but he couldn't get anything more than a rasp to leave him. He nodded to answer the Healer but stopped when a shooting pain ran through him. He grimaced. He made out three familiar faces in the room, crowded behind Lily; Sirius, Remus and Damien. James tried to talk again but all that came out was strangled whisper.
"L-Li-Lily," he managed to croak out.
"I'm here, James, I'm here," Lily said, grabbing his hand. She stroked the side of his face.
"Mrs Potter, if I could please ask you and the rest to step outside, just until I finish my examination," Healer Davis said.
"What for?" James heard Sirius bark angrily. "James is fine, no thanks to you. You had given up on him. How do you explain this?"
The Healer turned around to answer him. "Mr Black, I understand your anger, but I need to find out what happened. Cores don't replenish themselves in a matter of minutes. It's just not possible."
James tried to sit up but he didn't get very far. Damien rested his hand lightly on his chest to stop him from moving. He reached out and placed James's glasses on his nose. James smiled, wordlessly thanking his son. With his vision cleared, he saw Lily's tear-soaked face. Remus and Sirius were behind her, looking like they had been to hell and back: their eyes were red, hair dishevelled, as if they had been running their hands through it in despair. Both looked downright furious with the Healer.
"Well then, how do you explain it?" Remus asked. "How did our friend survive, if his magic really was depleted? You had us all convinced he was dying."
"He was dying," the Healer said and then stopped, turning to look at James quickly. "I apologise, Mr Potter. You are the one I should be speaking to." He faced James. "Mr Potter, you were hit with the Markiline curse. It's a very dark curse that strips its victim of their magic. When you were brought in, your magical stores were almost depleted." He gave the monitor a long glance. "But now, your levels are normal. Even higher than normal, actually. How this happened, I don't know, but its what allowed your body to heal and recover."
"What happened," Sirius started, "is that James proved you wrong. I told you he was strong, that he wasn't giving in without a fight! But you were so busy writing James off, you didn't even check to see how he was recovering!"
"Mr Black–" The Healer started.
"Don't think you're going to get away with it," Sirius warned. "I'm going to make sure every witch and wizard finds out about your negligence!"
"Sirius," Remus tried, but Sirius was far too gone in his anger to back down.
"You stopped treating James," he continued. "You signed his life away. Then your nurse comes in here, throws us all out and then doesn't bother unlocking the door before leaving. We had to break down the door to get back in."
"What?" Healer Davis looked stunned.
"I'll reimburse the hospital for its flimsy lock," Sirius said dismissively.
"No," the Healer said, "not that. What did you say about a nurse coming in here?"
"The male nurse," Sirius prompted. "He came in to change one of the machines." He gestured to the monitor at James's side.
The Healer looked to the machine and then back at Sirius with wide eyes. He shook his head. "I didn't authorise any of my staff to come to Mr Potter's room, and certainly not to tamper with any of the machines."
Sirius's narrowed blue eyes were fixed on the Healer. "What do you mean you didn't authorise it?" he asked.
The Healer quickly moved to the monitor hooked up to James. He examined it carefully, but then straightened up, his brow heavy with confusion. "I don't understand." He turned to look at James. "Why would a nurse come in here? The machine hasn't been touched."
Something caught the Healer's eye and he paused. For a moment he did nothing but stand and stare at something on the bed, next to James.
"What is it?" Remus asked. "Healer Davis? What's wrong?"
James followed the Healer's gaze, peering down at the bed. He saw it at once. Next to his hand, just at the edge of the bed, were tiny crimson drops.
The Healer went around the bed to come to James's side. He bent closer, examining what was undoubtedly drops of blood. Everyone else in the room noticed them now too.
"Is that...blood?" Lily asked, horrified.
"It is," the Healer said. "But it can't be from Mr Potter's injuries." He looked down at the ground. "There are a few drops on the floor too."
"What's going on?" Lily asked.
"That's what I'd like to know," Healer Davis said.
He picked up a small vial from the room and magically scooped up some of the blood. He pointed his wand at it and muttered a spell. A name appeared on the label. Healer Davis went very still. He stared at the vial, seemingly in shock.
"Healer Davis?" Lily called.
The Healer looked at her with wide eyes.
"It says this blood belongs to...Harry James Potter."
xxx
Taking the floo out of St Mungos meant Harry could come straight to his room at the motel, which was just as well, as Harry could barely put one foot before the other. He was trembling all over. Pain was radiating from his every fibre. He stumbled out of the fireplace and almost fell face first onto the floor. Fever had taken a strong grip on him and it was costing Harry everything he had to force himself to move towards the bed.
He managed the task and fell onto the bed with a moan. The fever was fast building, making his bones ache. His eyes felt too heavy to open. His hand was throbbing and was still bleeding heavily. Donating his magic meant Harry wouldn't be able to heal properly and potions wouldn't take effect on him until his magic was restored. That could take anywhere between a week to ten days. Harry hoped he would be able to make it until then.
He slipped into unconsciousness, not realising that in his haste to leave after receiving Damien's text message, and then flooing back from the hospital, Harry had left his room's door unlocked.
xxx
James felt like his heart had stopped.
"What did you say?" Lily asked.
The Healer looked back at the vial and swallowed hard. "According to the blood found here, it belongs to a Harry James Potter. I understand that he is your eldest son?" the Healer asked, knowing full well that it was the truth. Everyone in the wizarding world knew who Harry Potter was.
"It's not possible," Lily said, shaking her head. "He couldn't have come here. We would have seen him, we would have…" she stopped before her eyes widened. She spun around and looked at Sirius and Remus.
"The nurse," Sirius muttered. He closed his eyes and his hands came up to cradle his head.
"Oh God," Lily whispered. "That was...that was Harry?"
"How did he even know that James was hurt?" Remus asked.
Damien tried his best not to draw attention to himself. He forced himself to stay still and not fidget with guilty energy.
"However he found out, it solves the mystery of Mr Potter's miraculous recovery," Healer Davis said. He turned to Lily. "It seems your eldest son must have been listening when we were discussing the magical donation and decided to go ahead and do the transfer."
Lily was shocked.
"Wait," James croaked. He struggled to sit up, but only managed to prop himself up halfway. Damien rushed forward and helped his dad. "What transfer?" James wheezed. "What are you talking about?"
"The only way to save your life was for someone in your bloodline to donate you their magic," the Healer explained.
"But you said the transfer was dangerous," Lily said. "And the donor would die if he transferred his magic?"
"The transfer is extremely dangerous," the Healer replied. "And in most cases the donor doesn't survive the procedure, which is why we don't carry it out, unless there are a number of donors willing to give a small amount of their magic." He paused. "However, there have been unusual cases in the past where an extremely powerful individual, or one with an exceptional core, is able to give their magic and survive."
"What…what would happen to him?" Lily asked, looking terrified. "What kind of condition would Harry be in after doing the transfer?"
The Healer looked conflicted, like he didn't how to answer a worried mother's question.
"Mrs Potter," he started heavily. "I'm sorry, but I have to be brutally honest with you. Your son needs help, and he needs it urgently. He's given an exceptional amount of magic to Mr Potter, to allow him to heal but that means that he himself doesn't have enough left to recover from the transfer. Once your magic is transferred to another, your body becomes weak. It goes through shock. Donors typically suffer from fever, nausea, aches and pain. If not properly cared for, these can escalate to serious health complications."
Lily shared a panicked look with her husband and then turned to Sirius and Remus. "Oh God," she breathed. "I..I don't know where he is. How can we help him if we don't know where he is."
"Healer Davis," Remus quickly stepped forward as Sirius hurried to comfort Lily. "Please, don't say anything to anyone about Harry coming here."
"Mr Lupin you are a Ministry Auror," the Healer said. "You know very well that I am obligated under the laws of the Ministry to report Harry Potter's visit to the hospital."
"I know," Remus said, "but the Ministry is wrong about Harry. He's not a threat, not anymore. You just saw for yourself, he risked everything to come and help his father," Remus said. "He saved his dad's life."
"He did," the Healer agreed. "But I have heard the same rumours about the Dark Prince and his notorious crimes as the rest of the world. I know that he is supposedly a highly skilled dueller, but I can assure you, in his current state he won't be able to defend himself."
"Healer Davis–" Lily started.
The man raised a hand to stop her. "But I for one, do not believe in unjust battles. Keep him hidden, until he recovers.
Lily shook her head. "We have no idea where he is, we swear."
"If he found you, then you can find him," the Healer said. He stepped back, pocketing the vial of Harry's blood. "The core can take anywhere from seven to ten days to recover. I can delay matters for no more than a week, then I will have to report his visit to St Mungos. Hopefully that will give him time to recover, so when he is caught, it won't be an unfair fight."
"Thank you," Sirius said, moving forward to shake the Healer's hand. "Really, thank you for your discretion."
Healer Davis smiled."I am first and foremost a Healer. I took an oath to help those in need to the best of my ability." He looked to Lily. "Your son at this time needs medical attention. Make sure he gets it." The Healer said no more and walked out of the room.
"We have to find him" Lily said. "We have to find Harry before it's too late!"
"We will," Remus said, hurrying to comfort her.
"He's all alone," Lily said, sounding heartbroken."He's in pain and he's all alone."
Damien pushed past his two uncles and hugged his mum. She clung to him. "Don't worry, Damy," she said with tears in her voice, "We'll find Harry. I promise you. We won't let anything happen to him."
Damien didn't say anything, but he looked to his dad. Sitting up in bed, his dad looked a thousand miles away. His eyes were shadowed, brow heavy with worry. He was obviously trying to figure out a way to find Harry, to help him before the Healer reported him to the Ministry.
Damien kept his jaw clenched, to physically restrain himself from speaking. He was afraid if he opened his mouth, he would tell all of them exactly where Harry was.
xxx
Damien sat on his bed in his room, the mobile phone in his hand. He sent Harry another text message. There was no reply. Damien was praying with all he had that the Healer was making the effects of the transfer more serious than it really was. Maybe Harry was just feeling a little sick, but was okay. After all, his brother was stronger than most wizards. But after sending Harry another three messages and waiting for more than an hour, Damien started to panic. What if Harry was in trouble? Damien couldn't stop himself any longer. He got up and pulled on his coat. He was about to climb out of his window when the fireplace in his room lit up with green flames.
Damien turned. The only ones to use the fireplace in his room were his friends. Sure enough there was the head belonging to Ginny Weasley sitting in the flames. She looked exhausted, as if she had been crying for hours.
"Gin?" Damien hurried to kneel before the fireplace. "You okay?"
"Not really," Ginny replied, sounding hollow.
"What happened?" Damien asked.
"Bill's in hospital," Ginny said. "He was badly injured in the fight. He's...he's in a coma. The Healer said he should pull through, but…" Ginny trailed off.
"Oh Gin, I'm so sorry," Damien said. He sat in silence for a moment, not knowing what else to say. "How's Fleur?" he asked.
"She's still at the hospital," Ginny replied. "I think mum and Fleur are both going to stay with Bill overnight. I thought you would be at the hospital too, with your dad. I went looking for you and found Mr Potter." She smiled tiredly. "I'm glad he's okay. Dad had made it sound like Mr Potter had been gravely injured. I was so worried."
Damien wasn't planning on telling his friends what Harry had done, but before he could really think about it, he found himself explaining how his dad was miraculously healed by Harry donating his magic. Ginny listened with slowly widening eyes.
"...dad is fine now, but Harry's in trouble. The Healer said that by transferring his magic to dad, Harry's made himself really sick. He needs help. I was just about to sneak out and go to him when you fire-called me."
"You can't go by yourself, Damy," Ginny said. "It's not safe. And what if your mum notices you're missing?"
"It doesn't matter," Damien replied. "I can deal with that later. I need to help Harry first."
Ginny went quiet. "Hold on," she said and then disappeared.
Damien was left looking at the space her head had been. The fire extinguished completely only to reappear as tall, flickering green flames. Damien moved out of the way just in time, as Ginny came toppling out of the fireplace.
She brushed her clothes free from soot and looked at Damien, still sitting on the floor, gaping at her.
"What?" Ginny asked with a shrug.
"You could have warned me that you were coming." Damien said.
"You should have known that's what I was doing," she replied. "I left a quick note for Ron, so he can cover for me." She gave Damien a look. "As if I'd let you go by yourself."
She moved towards Damien's bed and arranged the pillows, before throwing the duvet over it. It now looked like someone was under the covers. She turned and pointed her wand at Damien. "Say something."
"Like what?" Damien asked.
"That'll do." She turned and pointed at the bed. The lump under the covers glowed green for a moment before the light faded. Ginny pocketed her wand. "Now if your mum comes in and tries to talk to you, this will answer for you in your voice. Just a few words, like, 'I'm sleepy' or 'we'll talk in the morning'."
Damien stared at her. "That's awesome," he said.
"George taught me it," Ginny said. "The spell is very simple though. It can't answer any complicated or private questions. Just simple things."
"What if my mum tries to pull me out of bed and sees that I'm not there?" Damien asked.
"Then you can do the explaining when you return." Ginny said and cracked a smile. "Now come on, we need to go."
Both of them climbed out of the window and down the water pipe. Using the Knight Bus they got to the muggle town Harry was hiding in. They hurried to the motel. They were careful to sneak in, not wanting to be stopped and questioned by the management. They got to Harry's door and knocked quietly. There was no answer.
Damien raised a hand to knock again when Ginny tried turning the door handle.
"It's going to be lock–" Damien's words died in his throat when the door clicked open.
Ginny looked like she couldn't believe it herself. She shared a surprised look with Damien before both hurried inside and closed the door behind them, locking it this time.
It was dark in the room, but both Damien and Ginny spotted Harry's form curled up on top of the bed. Damien rushed to his brother's side, while Ginny found the small table lamp and switched it on. The soft glow was enough for Damien and Ginny to see what state Harry was in. He was drenched in sweat; his hair was sticking to his forehead, thick droplets clung to his skin. He looked paler than usual. Dark circles had appeared under his closed eyes. His lips were dry and cracked.
"Oh God," Damien whispered. "Harry? Harry, hey?" He gently shook Harry's shoulder.
Harry didn't wake up.
"Harry? Harry can you hear me?" Damien tried again.
"He's out cold," Ginny said. "Its the fever, it does that. We need to bring his body temperature down." She looked around the sparsely furnished room. "Okay, you get him undressed. I'll try and find some cold water for him."
Damien started right away, taking Harry's shoes off before manipulating the coat his brother was still wearing.
Ginny went to the small fridge and freezer in the corner of the room. Aside from bottled water, there wasn't anything else in there. "Merlin, what does he eat?" Ginny muttered. She took a bottle out and closed the door. She opened the freezer and found what she was looking for. Ice, lots and lots of ice.
Ginny looked around for a container, something she could put the ice into. She found a small plastic tub; it looked like it had rice in it at some point. She quickly went to the en-suite and washed it out. She filled it up with cold water and then put the ice into it.
She came back to the bed and saw that Damien had successfully removed Harry's heavy coat and shirt. He was only wearing his trousers now. Having nothing else, Ginny tore the corner of the bed sheet. She dipped the cloth into the ice cold water and brought it down onto Harry's forehead. Harry moaned softly and Ginny felt her heart break. It was horrible to see him so ill.
Damien tore another strip from the bed sheet and opened the bottle Ginny had brought from the fridge. He spilled some water onto the cloth and gently held the soaked cloth over Harry's dried lips. The drops of water seemed to soothe Harry. His breathing began to even out and he fell into a deeper sleep.
Although Damien didn't understand the procedure for donating magic, he knew Harry had done something extreme since his blood was found in the hospital room. His searching gaze soon spotted the blood soaked rag over Harry's hand. Damien unwrapped the cut, examining it. It didn't look very deep but it was still continuing to bleed.
"What do we do now?" he asked Ginny with panic. "We haven't got anything to bandage his hand with. I think he needs to get some sort of antiseptic solution on it first?"
Ginny bit her lip and shook her head. "I don't know, Damy. I don't have a clue about treating wounds. Ron would know what to do. So would Hermione; she would know the muggle treatment."
"That's what we need," Damien said, "since magic isn't going to help him right now."
"Just try and clean up the wound as much as you can," Ginny said. She helped Damien tear more strips from the bed sheet; they'd ruined the sheets now anyway, may as well go all the way.
Damien cleaned the wound as well as he could with water before tying a fresh strip tightly across Harry's hand. Not even ten minutes later, a small spot of blood seeped through. Two hours later, the makeshift bandage was soaked.
No matter what Damien did, how tightly he bandaged the cut, every two hours or so the bandage would soak through with blood. But Damien didn't give up. He cleaned the wound every time and and bandaged it again and again. As Damien attended to Harry's wound, Ginny continued to try and bring down Harry temperature by putting cold rags on his forehead.
Aside from bringing his temperature down and trying to stop the bleeding, the two teens didn't know what else to do. They tried to wake Harry up, but he was unresponsive.
The early hours of the morning came and still, Harry hadn't woken up. Damien couldn't keep his panic at bay any longer.
"Why is he not waking up?" he asked. "Something is wrong. Maybe the transfer didn't work properly. He really should have woken up by now."
"His fever is too high," Ginny said, dipping another rag in the cold water to put on Harry's forehead. "When it finally breaks, he'll wake up."
The sun came up and Damien knew he had to go back home. His mum usually came into his room to wake him up for breakfast. He had to get back before she realised he wasn't in his bed. With the promise that he would return in the next few hours with Ron and proper medical supplies, Damien left.
Ginny continued the cold rags, fighting to bring Harry's fever down. She had been up all night, placing cold rags on Harry's forehead, neck and wrists. She was exhausted by now. She hadn't slept much the night before, as she was up helping her mum prepare for her brother's wedding. Ginny forced back the tears at the thought of her brother. Bill and Fleur were due to fly to their honeymoon today, instead Bill was in hospital, fighting for his life, while her sister-in-law sat by his side, crying and praying that fate permitted them a life together.
"It's not fair," she whispered to herself. "Bill's a good person. He doesn't deserve any of this."
She looked at Harry, seeing him better with the morning light flitting in from the window. He looked a little more peaceful than he did all night. Ginny took away the cloth from his forehead and gently brushed the dark locks away from his face.
"You don't deserve any of this either," she said softly. "Despite what everyone thinks, you're a good person. Look at what you did for your dad." She felt her emotions choke her voice. "It's not fair," she breathed. "It's not fair that you do this amazing deed for your family but you can't be with them." Her hand stroked Harry's cheek before she gently cupped his face. "I wish there was something I could do, to get you back to your family."
Harry moved and Ginny was about to pull her hand back when she realised that Harry was shifting into her touch. Ginny stilled. She didn't dare move. She barely breathed, watching as Harry continued to sleep, pressed into her hand. She smiled and with genuine regret, pulled her hand away. Harry, in his sleep, searched for her before falling still.
Ginny rinsed out the rag and put it back on Harry's forehead. She rubbed at her eyes. She was so tired. Her back was aching from sitting all night. She didn't mean for it to happen, she only wanted to straighten her back for a little while, but instead she curled up next to Harry and fell into an exhausted sleep.
xxx
It was the light coming in from the uncovered window that woke Harry up. It took him a moment or two to figure out why he was feeling so ill and weak. Then the memory of donating his magic to his dad came rushing back at him. Harry brought his injured hand to his face and saw the bandage made out of cloth wrapped around it. It was definitely different from the one he had wrapped around his hand yesterday. That's when the slight weight of the rag on his forehead registered. He pulled it off and looked at it with a puzzled expression. What was going on? He looked around the room. When he turned his head, he caught sight of the red-haired girl lying next to him. If Harry wasn't feeling so weak and pained, he would have jumped out of bed with surprise.
Harry blinked at the girl soundly asleep, lying next to him. The thick mane of red hair had fallen over her face, partly hiding her. But Harry already knew who it was. Very carefully, Harry brushed the hair away from her face. Yep, definitely Ginny Weasley. Harry didn't know what had happened or how Ginny had ended up in his bed, sleeping by his side, but he knew his brother had something to do with it. He glanced around the room with bleary eyes, but there was no sign of Damien.
Harry tried to sit up but his body protested fiercely. He closed his eyes and breathed out slowly. Working the last of his energy into his resolve to get up, he managed to sit up. Ginny stirred at feeling the bed move. She opened her eyes and saw that Harry was awake. She shot up and quickly scrambled off the bed.
"Harry," she said, coming around the bed to his side. "Thank Merlin, you're awake. How are you? You feeling okay?" she asked quickly, praying that Harry had just woken up and hadn't noticed her sleeping next to him. "Damien told me what happened," she went on. "He was worried about you so we came last night to check on you. He left a little while ago, but he'll be back soon."
Harry ignored her. With visible difficulty, he tried to pull his legs to the side of the bed, so he could get up. He couldn't quite manage the simple task. Ginny quickly reached out to help him. Harry pulled back and glared at her.
"I'm not an invalid!" he hissed.
Ginny was stunned speechless. She stared at Harry with shock.
"Harry, I'm only trying to help," she said.
"I don't need your help," Harry spat back. "I can take care of myself."
Ginny's surprise and hurt quickly turned to anger.
"Of course you can," she stated coldly. "I forgot that you never need anyone's help. You're just superhuman, aren't you. You don't get hurt. You don't bleed. And you don't get ill. You were doing just fine before me and Damien came last night. You didn't have a raging fever, your hand wasn't bleeding uncontrollably and you weren't in any pain. I guess we just wasted our time looking after you."
"Who told you to?" Harry bit out.
"Harry," Ginny started, shaking her head. "No one needs to tell us to look after you. That's what you do when someone you care about is hurting." She stared at Harry, at his bloodshot emerald-green eyes, full of genuine confusion. She could see Harry had no clue why she was here, why she had bothered to look after him last night "Why won't you let anyone help you?" she asked.
"Because I don't need anyone's help," Harry said. He pushed himself off the bed and onto unsteady feet. "I can take care of myself. I always have and I always will."
He painstakingly made his way over to the en-suite and slammed the door shut. He slid down the door and sat on the cold floor. He closed his eyes. His whole body was aching. He felt sick but had next to nothing to bring up. He stayed where he was, riding out the wave of nausea.
He heard the door to his room open and then close with a resounding click. He opened his eyes. Ginny had left. Inexplicably, Harry felt remorse well up inside him. He knew Ginny was only trying to help. How was she supposed to know that Harry couldn't stomach the thought of being reliant on someone else. That every single memory of being helpless held untold horrors for him. These were his issues, not hers.
Using the last of his depleted energy, Harry got up and turned on the tap. He splashed his face with cool water, using his uninjured hand. He rubbed at the back of his neck, trying to cool his fevered body. That's when he noticed that he was in fact topless.
He walked back into the room to find a shirt. Ginny's absence hit him, harder this time. Harry couldn't understand why he felt like this. He should be relieved Ginny had left him alone. Now maybe he could get some rest. But instead he felt sorry that he was alone. Harry shook his head. The fever was making him delirious. He didn't need anyone to be with him. He was better off alone.
Harry picked up his discarded shirt, slipped it on and fell back into bed. He didn't have the energy to do up the buttons. He fell asleep, almost at once.
Ten minutes later, his door opened and Harry snapped awake. He found Ginny in the doorway, holding a plastic bag in her hand.
"It's only me," she said quietly.
Harry watched her come inside and lock the door.
"Where did you go?" Harry asked. His voice came out hoarse and no louder than a whisper.
Ginny walked over to him, fiddling with the bag in her hand. She wasn't looking at him. Was that on purpose, Harry wondered?
"You need food, proper food," she replied as she pulled out a small cup of soup. She met his eyes when she held it out for him to take.
Slowly, Harry reached out and took the warm cup from her. Ginny's eyes lingered on the bloody cloth wrapped around his hand. It was soaked through with blood again.
"Ron will be here soon," she said. "I'm sure he can have a look at that for you."
Without saying anymore, she walked to the small coffee table and sat on the floor. She brought a small sandwich out of the bag and started eating. Harry wondered how she had paid for the food. He knew she wouldn't be walking around with muggle money. He was about to ask her, but then changed his mind. He quietly drank the soup, relishing the taste.
It was just as Harry put the empty cup down that a small knock sounded at the door. Ginny opened it to Ron, Damien and Hermione. Damien rushed to Harry's side at once, looking relieved.
"Thank Merlin you're awake," he said. "I was scared you were still going to be knocked out. How are you now? Better?"
As annoyed as Harry was with Damien for bringing Ginny and now Ron and Hermione with him, he found he couldn't berate him, not after hearing the genuine worry and concern in his voice.
"I'm fine," Harry said. His voice was sounding a lot better now. The soup had helped.
Ron came to his side. "Right, lets see this hand of yours," he said quietly.
Harry noticed Ron looked tired, and a little ill himself. He was paler than usual and his eyes were red-rimmed, as if he'd been up all night. He held onto Harry's wrist and carefully undid the bloody cloth tied around it. Hermione brought over a bag and started taking out medical supplies for Ron to clean and dress the wound.
"Any news about Bill, Ron?" Ginny asked.
Ron didn't answer right away. He gave small shake of his head. "He's still the same. Healer Davis said he's stable now, but he's still unconscious."
Harry's brow furrowed. Bill? Wasn't that Ron's brother that got married yesterday? He looked to Damien, who seemed to understand Harry's confusion.
"Bill's in the Order. He went to fight against the Death Eaters yesterday." Damien didn't have to say anymore, Harry understood what had happened.
Harry looked over at Ginny. She had spent last night taking care of him, instead of being with her family at a difficult time like this. His earlier outburst seemed even more callous now.
Ron removed the blood soaked cloth from Harry's hand. The cut was showing no signs of healing. Ron silently cleaned the wound and dressed it in a proper bandage, wounding it as tight as he could. Hermione pulled out small foil-packed tablets from her bag.
"Damien said that potions weren't going to work on you for a while," she said to Harry. "Not until your core replenishes it's magic, so I brought all the muggle medicines I could find at home."
She had brought everything from cough syrups to analgesic tablets. Hermione told Harry how many he had to take in the day, but Harry wasn't listening to her. His mind was beginning to drift as the fever took hold of him again. He closed his eyes. He vaguely heard Hermione calling his name before falling unconscious.
xxx
After trying and failing to wake Harry up, the four teens had no choice but to let Harry sleep.
"I have to be honest; we are way above her heads here," Hermione said. "We can't help Harry. He needs proper medical care. We shouldn't pretend we can take care of him, if we don't know what we're doing. I don't even know if muggle medicines are going to be any help."
"What else can we do?" Ginny asked. "We can't take him to St Mungo's. What other choice do we have but to take care of him the best we can?"
Damien looked at his sleeping brother and bit his lip. "Maybe…maybe I should tell my parents," he said. "They're the only ones who can help him. My mum would know what to do."
"Damy," Ron started, "Harry would never forgive you."
"I know," Damien said, "and I really, really don't want to abuse Harry's trust like that, but...but I don't know what else to do. Harry needs help. No matter what we do, his fever isn't breaking. Healer Davis said the transfer is really dangerous and that Harry needs medical attention."
"Maybe he was only saying that to scare you," Ron said. "He probably thinks your family knows where Harry is, and he was trying to get that reward money by tricking you into bringing Harry in to see him."
"I don't think so," Damien said. "He's not even reporting the fact that Harry came to St Mungos, not until a week at least, to give Harry time to recuperate so he can defend himself."
"I think you shouldn't say anything to your parents, not just yet anyway," Ron said. "If Harry gets worse, or we can't stop the bleeding, then we'll have no choice but to get Mr and Mrs Potter involved. But I'm sure we can deal with this. We just have to take one problem at a time."
"The biggest problem we have right now is the fever," Hermione said. "We need to get it to break. He'll start having convulsions and fits if we don't get his body temperature down."
"Let's see what the muggle medicines do for him," Ron said. "In the meantime we'll use cold compresses to keep his temperature down."
Ginny and Damien went to work immediately with strips of cloth dipped in cold water. Hermione fished a few more medicines out of her bag while Ron kept a close eye on Harry's injured hand. They gathered around Harry, working together to do what they could for him.
xxx
The days went on and by the fourth day, Harry's fever had come down dramatically. His hand had stopped bleeding and was on its way to being healed. He was still very weak and could hardly stay awake. After his harsh words with Ginny on the first day, Harry kept quiet and let the others attend to him without comment. He knew that he did in fact need their help, but he would never admit that out loud. He was thankful that none of them made a big deal about how ill he was. They didn't fuss over him more than what was needed. The four of them left Harry alone at nights and spent the days with him, bringing him food and medication.
It was in the morning hours of the seventh day, when Harry was awoken by a knock on his door. Harry got up and tiredly went to answer it, like he did most days. The thought that the four teens were rather early today did flit through Harry's mind, but he had already opened the door.
The spell hit him square in the chest. Harry fell back, thrown violently to the ground by the force of the spell. Harry looked up in time to see the three Death Eaters come into the room and close the door behind them.
"Hello Prince," Nott said, baring his teeth in a feral grin. He aimed his wand at Harry's chest. "Long time no see."
