Chapter 34: Hero's Ruin, Hero's Remedy.

"Please tell me you're joking."

Sirius was staring at him in unbridled disbelief.

"I'm not."

Sirius turned away from him, running a hand through his hair in obvious irritation.

"You can't seriously be considering going back, Harry! We've talked about this!"

Sirius was furious, just as Harry had known he would be. It was why he'd waited nearly a month to tell him. But as April's damp chill faded into the flowery winds of May, Harry had finally decided that he needed to tell Sirius. He couldn't put it off any longer.

"I have to go back, Sirius. It's just for a month."

Sirius glared at him, gray eyes wild.

"A month is too long! You can't do this, Harry! I won't let you!"

Anger rose up in Harry. The same foreign anger that'd been growing ever stronger in recent weeks, a thrum of fury in his blood, rage in his veins.

"Well, it's not up to you, is it?"

Harry's voice was cold, frigid, terrifying.

"Harry, your parents wanted me to take care of you. I'm supposed to protect you."

Harry stared hard into Sirius' eyes, disconnected from his own mind, Voldemort in his head.

"You should've thought of that before you ran off and got yourself thrown in Azkaban. You haven't been here, Sirius. You don't get to tell me what to do!"

Sirius' face fell, crumpling in shock and hurt.

"Harry…"

"And I'm sure," Harry spat, venom in his tone.

"That my parents wouldn't have wanted YOU to take care of me. Not after you left me to go chase your revenge, not after you screwed everything up so badly."

Sirius had tears in his eyes, but Harry couldn't see them. Not really. He wasn't really there anymore. He was pushed to the back of his own mind, disconnected and numb.

"Harry…" Sirius pleaded.

"I'm sorry."

"Save your breath," Harry retorted, ending the call without another word.

Minutes passed in the darkness, minutes of numbness, minutes of disconnection. At last, Harry was able to regain control, breaking through the fog of anger and cruelty blanketing his mind.

"Damn it," He whispered into the silence of the dormitory, clenching his fists, nails digging into the skin of his palms.

"Damn it."

He was losing control.

It'd been happening more and more frequently over the past weeks, a profound loss of himself, a disconnection, almost a possession.

Voldemort was getting stronger. Harry could feel it, feel it in the way his magic was becoming more like Voldemort's, the foreign strain taking over his melody. Occlumency was getting harder, not easier. He couldn't focus on his own magic because it barely sounded like his anymore. It was too much Voldemort's.

He'd been lucky that the moments when Voldemort took over always happened when he was alone, when he could hide it. That luck had run out tonight.

He'd ruined everything.

The things he'd said to Sirius were unforgivable. He'd destroyed one of the only good things in his life. It wouldn't be long before he destroyed all of them.

Hope was running out for him. Time was running out.

Even Dumbledore couldn't help. The Headmaster had noticed the connection's increasing severity right away, feeling the evil in Harry's head. Dumbledore had told him that it was a result of Tom's power growing, the completion of his recovery from spending years as a shade. He was returning to his full strength. As that strength grew, the connection grew as well, tendrils of Tom Riddle implanting themselves deeper and deeper into his magic and into his mind.

Dumbledore may have known the reason behind the connection's growth, but he had no idea of how to fix it. Occlumency lessons became exercises in desperation and futility. The connection kept growing stronger, and Harry was afraid that he'd soon become a danger, a liability, a puppet. He thought he might go mad. Perhaps he already was.

His friends had no idea. Sirius had no idea. He'd begged Dumbledore not to tell anyone. He couldn't handle his friends knowing that he was turning into a monster.

But now Sirius knew. He knew that Harry was disgusting, evil, cruel, wrong. He'd seen the part of Harry that was Riddle.

He would probably never want to see Harry again. He could hardly blame him. Harry didn't really want to see himself either. If he could stop living in his own head, he would. If he could stop being Harry, he would.

The next morning, Saturday, dawned warm and beautiful. Harry didn't care. He heard the other boys getting up, but he stayed tucked under his duvet, wrapped in a blanket of darkness.

"Harry?" Ron called, pulling back the hangings around his bed.

"Are you getting up?"

Harry shook his head, burrowing deeper into his mattress.

"No. I'm tired."

Ron nodded, eyes wide, disbelief clear in his expression.

"Alright."

It wasn't quite a lie. He was tired. He'd been overworking himself for months now, spending hours on homework, practicing Occlumency, trying to contain Riddle, trying to forge himself into a weapon. It was too much. If he was being honest, he'd been exhausted since March.

Today, he was tired in a different sense. He just couldn't bring himself to be Harry today. It was too much to ask. He was tired of himself, tired of his life, tired of feeling, tired of everything. He was numb.

Hours passed like water, flowing around him too quickly to be real. His chest felt tight, like he couldn't quite breathe. His head was filled with thoughts and memories, swirling about in endless cycles of horror.

His eyes kept being drawn to his bare left arm, the words standing out sharply, stark against the red of his sheets and the pallor of his skin.

He kept getting lost in the letters, tracing them with his finger, reliving the moments when those scars had been made.

The memories were flooding him. Just as they had done with Cedric. Just as they had done on those other days at Privet Drive when he'd been unable to move himself from his bed, unable to feel anything but terror and nothingness.

Time stretched like putty, pulling him into waves of memories, horrible images crashing against his mind, drenching everything in the putrid stench of fear.

Through it all he could feel Voldemort, icy fingers gripping onto his terror, dragging it to the front of his mind, relishing in destroying his enemy from the inside out.

"Harry?"

George was standing above him, staring at him with worry clear in his brown eyes.

"Budge over."

Harry did so robotically, leaving room for George to sit beside him.

George settled himself beside Harry, propping himself up on the headboard and pulling Harry close to him. Harry melted into the embrace, burying his head against George's chest, listening to his heartbeat.

"This isn't okay, Harry," George whispered.

"Whatever this is, whatever is happening, you can't do this. You can't stop eating, or moving, or talking. It's terrifying."

Harry said nothing.

"Tell me. Tell me what's happening."

"Nothing."

George sighed, shifting a bit.

"That's a lie. I know something's happening. Sirius called me this morning on Mum's mirror. He said that you weren't acting like yourself, that he's worried about you."

Harry took in a deep breath, relief coursing through him. Sirius still cared. His godfather didn't hate him.

"I...he's...he's here."

George stiffened.

"Who?"

"Voldemort."

George flinched.

"What do you mean?"

"He's in my head. He's been there all year, but he's getting stronger. I can't control him anymore. He's taking over, and I'm losing it, George. I'm becoming like him."

"Doesn't Occlumency help?"

"It's not working anymore. It's just getting worse."

George fell silent, his breath coming faster.

"There has to be a way...there has to be…"

Suddenly George jerked upwards, displacing Harry.

"Sweet Merlin! I have an idea!"

He turned to grin at Harry.

"There are Potions that can control emotions, that can stop a Werewolf from taking over a Wizard's mind. There has to be a way to help with this!"

Harry pulled himself up so he was facing George.

"That Potion doesn't exist though."

"Not yet," George smirked, winking at him.

"But I know someone who can help me invent it. Someone who is an expert in Occlumency already."

Harry gaped at George.

"You can't mean…"

"Professor Snape."

"That's insane, George. He'll never agree to that."

George's eyes took on a malicious gleam.

"He will if I ask our dear old Headmaster first. Snape owes Dumbledore too much. He won't be able to say no."

George stood, planting a kiss on Harry's forehead as he did so.

"I'm going to speak to him now. You,"

He pointed at Harry.

"Are going to get out of bed. We can fix this, Harry. I'm going to fix this."

Harry had never seen George look so determined, so sure.

"Alright."

After a shower and some clean clothes, Harry felt much improved.

He'd been in bed nearly all day, fading into the darkness in his head. It was scary how easily he'd lost himself to despair. How easy it would have been to stay there.

He very well may have lost himself entirely, but George had brought him back. Just like he always did.

George returned just over an hour later, smiling smugly.

"It actually worked?" Harry asked incredulously, not quite believing it.

George nodded, beaming.

"Dumbledore thought it was an excellent idea. He hadn't even thought to use a Potion. He floo-called Professor Snape, and we're going to be working on developing the Potion together."

"Together?"

Harry didn't think that would end well.

"Yes. Dumbledore thinks it's important that someone who…um...loves you works on the Potion."

George blushed, running his hand through his hair.

"But Snape…"

"Hates me?"

Harry nodded.

"True. But Dumbledore didn't give him a choice. Besides, Dumbledore has been trying to convince Snape to take on an apprentice for years. It makes the school look bad if the resident Potions Master never helps train future generations."

Harry turned to stare at George in shock.

"He's going to be your advisor? For your Mastery?"

George grinned.

"Yep! As long as I get an Outstanding on my NEWT. Snape got roped into training me. It was brilliant! Developing this Potion will take time. A lot of time. Dumbledore thinks that love will be a central component of the brewing process. Snape definitely can't provide that. I need an advising Potions Master, Dumbledore needs this Potion made, and I'm needed to make the Potion. It was a match made in Heaven. We signed papers and everything. You should have seen his face! He was furious!"

Harry was still staring at George, mouth hanging open.

"Why are you so happy about working with Snape?"

George turned to him, eyes bright.

"Because he's fantastic at Potions. And apprenticeships like these usually take around two years..."

George was looking at him expectantly, like the reason was obvious.

Harry still didn't get it.

"You have to spend a lot of time with your mentor, working in his lab so that he can supervise…"

Harry shook his head.

"Which means I'll be at Hogwarts nearly every day…"

Harry finally got it. George was doing this to be near him. He was willing to put up with years of working closely with Snape. For Harry.

He was amazing.

Harry didn't even think. He practically pounced on George, wrapping him in a hug so tight it was almost painful.

"Thank you."

"Of course," George whispered.

"I'm going to invent this Potion. I'll get him out of your head. I promise."

George pulled back, looking into Harry's face.

"You have to promise me something too."

Harry nodded.

"Anything."

"Don't blame yourself for this. It's going to be hard, Harry. I know that having him in your head must be just awful, but it's not who you are. It's not YOU. Promise me you'll remember that."

"I promise."

…

Harry stared at the two-way mirror, hands shaking.

It had been two days since his fight with Sirius. Two terrible days.

"Just do it," Harry muttered to himself.

"Stop being such a coward."

He drew in a deep breath.

"Sirius Black."

Sirius' face appeared.

He looked terrible, exhausted and upset.

"I'm sorry," Harry said quietly, avoiding Sirius' eyes.

"I didn't mean any of it. It was just…"

"George told me," Sirius whispered.

"He said you've been struggling with Voldemort's emotions taking over your own."

Harry nodded, looking up at Sirius, scanning his face for any sign of disgust. He found none.

"I'm so sorry, Harry."

Harry furrowed his brow, confused.

"Why are you sorry?"

"Because everything you said was true."

Harry stared, horrified.

"No, it wasn't.."

"It was. It's okay, Harry. I know I made a mistake. I should never have left you. Never. It's too late to change that, but I promise you that I'm never going to leave you again. Never again. Even if Voldemort takes over your mind entirely, I'll never leave you. I'll never stop loving you, okay?"

Harry smiled at Sirius, heart full.

"Okay."

...

When Harry walked into Dumbledore's office for his Occlumency lesson on Tuesday, he stopped dead in his tracks. Snape and George were sitting across from Dumbledore, parchments spread around them.

"Come in, Harry," Dumbledore called, gesturing for Harry to come forward.

Harry sank into his usual chair, glancing back and forth between the three men. He had no idea what was going on.

"We are going to do an experiment today," Dumbledore said, looking a bit wary.

"Professor Snape and Mr. Weasley would like to gauge the physical effects of opening the connection between you and Voldemort. This will help them in deciding where to begin. Will you allow them to take notes on their observations?"

Harry nodded.

"How are we going to open the connection?" Harry asked nervously.

Dumbledore sighed, giving Harry a sad smile.

"You are going to attempt to glean the location of one of the other Horcruxes by connecting your magic with one of the two we have found so far."

Harry felt his stomach drop. The last time he'd magically interacted with a Horcrux, he'd been left unconscious in a pool of his own blood.

"We need to do this, Harry. We must contain this connection. We must find the Horcruxes. I know this is difficult, but we have no choice."

"Alright," Harry breathed, trying to stop his voice from shaking.

"I'm going to cast a spell on you, Potter. It will record your vitals during this process."

Snape's voice was disinterested but not cruel. Harry felt the magic settle over him, glowing numbers appearing in the air beside him. He had heard of this spell before but couldn't quite remember the incantation. It was often used in Saint Mungo's, recording both physical and magical health.

Harry could see his heart rate, blood pressure, oxygen saturation, magical level, even pain level. He couldn't help but marvel at what magic was capable of. It was amazing.

Snape muttered another spell and a quill began to move of its own accord, transcribing the glowing numbers onto a fresh sheet of parchment.

Dumbledore brought the locket out from his desk, placing it gently before Harry.

Harry stared at it, feeling the darkness descending, Voldemort's power invading his head. His heart rate was already rising, blood pressure climbing, pain increasing. The glowing numbers were flickering upward, slowly but unmistakably.

"Alright, Harry. If you would, use your Spell Sensing to break into the locket."

Harry steeled himself, reaching his magic out toward the locket, letting the darkness consume him.

He fell into memories.

A rabbit, bloody in his hands.

A little boy's crying face, eyes wide with terror.

The same boy rocking himself, muttering.

Pain exploded in Harry's head, a deep ache throbbing through his skull.

Poison.

Poison in three goblets.

The old couple and...Tom Riddle. His Mudblood of a father.

He watched, disillusioned in the corner, as they drank the liquid, choking on the deadly brew.

Blood poured from their eyes, noses, and mouths as they died.

Harry felt a sharp pain in his chest, ripping, rending.

"We need to stop."

Harry could hear George in the distance, voice panicked.

"Wait, Weasley. We must wait."

"He's in pain…"

The bodies were cold on the ground, lifeless eyes seeing nothing.

He smiled, pulling the ring from his pocket, examining the dark stone.

He raised his wand, cold intent filling his body.

The pain rose to new heights, tearing through his body, shredding, ripping.

The ring was placed into a box, curse settling over it.

Any fool who tried to take this treasure would pay the ultimate price…

Harry pulled himself away from the locket, shaking and sweating.

He looked up at Dumbledore, meaning to tell him what he'd seen. His eyes locked with the Headmaster's.

Rage…

Terrible rage…

He was so angry…

Harry hated this man. HATED HIM.

He slipped his wand from his pocket in a single fluid motion, murderous intent flowing down his arm into his wand. He pointed it right between the old fool's eyes, letting the words settle onto his tongue.

"Avada…"

"Expelliarmus!"

Harry's wand flew from his fingers, landing in Dumbledore's hand.

For a moment, everything was frozen. No one moved.

Then, the gravity of what had just happened caught up to Harry. He'd been about to kill Dumbledore. He'd almost…

He stood up, knocking his chair over in his haste to get away.

He ran for the door, fumbling for the handle. He wrenched it open and fled, racing down the halls as fast as possible. He ignored the shouts that followed him. He had to leave.

He was dangerous. He couldn't be near students. He was going to kill someone.

He needed to leave.

He raced to his dormitory, grabbing his invisibility cloak, rucksack, and firebolt. He opened the window, sending a silent goodbye to the place he loved. He couldn't be here anymore. He was going to get someone killed.

He took off, flying across the grounds at top speed, invisibility cloak concealing his body.

He flew, trying to push down the voices of doubt filling his head. He didn't have anywhere to go. He didn't have a plan. He was alone. He was wandless. What had he been thinking?

As Scotland blurred into England beneath him, Harry had a realization. There was one place he could go. A place where he would be protected. A place where he couldn't hurt anyone. A place where he would be contained, weakened.

He needed to go to Privet Drive.

...

Harry got lost several times, but he eventually made it to Surrey, taking in the familiar streets of his personal hell.

He'd been flying all night and into the morning. Uncle Vernon would be at work, Dudley was at school. Just Aunt Petunia would be here. Maybe she would let him stay.

He took off the Invisibility Cloak, stuffing it into his rucksack.

He approached the door, braced himself, and knocked.

The door was flung open, revealing the sneering face of Aunt Petunia.

"What the hell are you doing here?" she spat at him, face contorted in rage and disgust.

"I need a place to stay," Harry said desperately, pleading with her.

"Please."

She looked into his eyes and something softened in her gaze for just a moment.

"Fine. Get in."

He stepped inside, letting her slam the door behind him.

"Finally screwed up at your school, have you? Have they finally realized what a freak you really are?"

"Yes," Harry said, knowing it was what she wanted to hear.

"Good," she said smugly.

"Go to your room. We'll see what Vernon has to say when he gets home. He just might let you stay."

Harry nodded, trudging up the familiar steps, Aunt Petunia following close behind him.

He entered the room, not even caring as she closed the door and locked him in.

This was where he belonged. He couldn't hurt anyone here except himself. And that was fine.

…

Several days passed, blurring into one another.

Harry wasn't surprised that no one had come for him yet. Tracking Wizards was actually quite difficult when they didn't use magical means. No one would expect him to come here. He was safe. For now.

Uncle Vernon hadn't been happy to see him. He was still angry about the fake lawn competition. He'd taken one look at Harry and punched him square in the face. Harry welcomed the pain. He deserved it.

Aunt Petunia had convinced Uncle Vernon to let him stay, whispering something about protection. That's when it clicked for Harry. They knew that he was keeping the Blood Wards up. They knew that he was their greatest protection against the Wizarding World. No wonder they kept him.

Harry let the days pass. He spent hours just staring at the ceiling, seeing nothing, feeling nothing. He had no plan and no hope.

Harry knew that George and Snape were working on a Potion to contain the connection, but it wouldn't be ready for months. He couldn't risk being around people in the interim. He would've killed Dumbledore if he hadn't been disarmed. He was a threat, a menace.

Here, at Privet Drive, Harry could make himself weak: too weak to be dangerous to anyone, physically or magically.

His relatives refused to feed him, telling him that he could work for food or eat nothing. Harry welcomed their refusal. The frailer he was, the less damage he could do. Was it stupidly self-destructive to stop eating? Yes. Harry knew that. He just couldn't care anymore.

Everything had happened so fast. He'd been happy just a few days ago, filled with love for Sirius and George. Now, he felt broken. Like he'd been hollowed out.

Harry should've known that he would be found sooner rather than later, but it was still a shock when Aunt Petunia knocked on his door nearly 5 days into his stay at Privet Drive.

"There's a freak here to see you."

The door opened to reveal Remus Lupin, looking shabbier than ever, amber eyes fiercely sad. He took in Harry, his pallor, the bruise on his face, the way he struggled to push himself up in bed.

Remus stepped into the room, sitting down in Harry's desk chair. Aunt Petunia muttered something rude under her breath before leaving them alone.

"What were you thinking?" Remus asked.

He didn't sound angry, just sad.

"I-I couldn't stay, Remus. I almost…"

Harry choked on the words. He couldn't say it.

"I'm dangerous, Remus. I could hurt someone. I could kill someone."

"I understand, Harry. I know how scary that is."

Of course Remus understood. He was forced to change into a monster once a month. He would understand better than anyone how Harry was feeling.

"I can't go back, Remus. I'm not safe. I'll hurt someone."

"You won't," Remus said, pulling something from his pocket.

It was a vial filled with a black Potion. Harry had never seen anything like it before.

"What is that?"

Remus sighed.

"We thought that you wouldn't come back unless you were sure that you wouldn't be a threat. We've known you were here for days, but we knew we couldn't make you leave the Blood Wards. It's part of their magic. So, Severus has been killing himself to make this."

Remus held the vial up to the light, the inky liquid sloshing about within the glass.

"It's not a perfect solution. Not at all. But it'll keep you safe while Snape and George work on the real thing."

"What is it?" Harry asked warily.

"It's a modified Wolfsbane. Severus replaced the Wolfsbane Plant with powerful Dark Magic blockers. It should help contain Voldemort. It also won't let you cast anything Dark."

Harry thought that sounded fantastic.

"Great!" he said, reaching for the vial.

Remus pulled back a bit, looking upset.

"What's wrong, Remus?"

"It's not without side effects, Harry. That's why we didn't want to give it to you unless we had to."

"What side effects?"

Remus sighed, running a hand through his hair.

"Nausea, fatigue, joint pain, loss of appetite, suppressed immune system…"

Remus trailed off, glancing nervously at Harry.

"It's poison, Harry. It's not deadly poison, but it's still poison. And you'd be taking it for a few months at least. Until they can come up with a better solution."

It wasn't a hard decision. Harry reached for the vial, taking it from Remus' hand.

"Do I take the whole thing?"

Remus nodded, and Harry choked down the thick, dark liquid, grimacing at the disgusting taste.

"Urgh…"

Remus smiled a bit.

"Yes, it's disgusting. Not unlike the original Wolfsbane Potion."

Harry felt the effects immediately, Voldemort's constant presence retreating from his head, allowing his magic to shine through again.

Harry gave a sigh of relief, flopping back onto his pillow.

"It works."

Remus still looked sad.

"You have to take it every 12 hours, and you'll have to see Severus every day for him to monitor the levels of the poison in your blood. This isn't going to be pleasant, Harry. You'll likely be quite ill sometimes."

Harry found that he didn't really care. Anything was better than having Voldemort in his head.

"That's okay, Remus. I can handle it."

"I know. But I don't want you to…"

Remus' eyes welled with tears, shocking Harry.

"I know how it feels to think you're a monster, Harry. I thought that for years, and I can see it when I look at you. Your eyes look just like mine did. I can see that you're afraid of yourself. And I don't want you to be. I wish you didn't have to be."

Harry let Remus pull him into a hug, surprised by the gesture. He wasn't used to a lot of physical affection from Remus.

"How's Sirius?" Harry whispered, finally allowing himself to ask the question that had been nagging at him for days.

"Worried. Worried but not angry. He understands, Harry. Everyone does. What happened was very scary, and it shouldn't have ever happened. You never should have been put in that position. You weren't ready to be that close to the Horcruxes, and Dumbledore knew that. No one is angry with you."

"Not even George?"

Remus sighed, pulling away from Harry.

"George is upset. You scared him quite badly."

Harry hung his head. Merlin, this whole situation was terrible.

"He misses you. His Mum told me that he's been pining this whole week."

Harry snorted.

"Please don't ever use the word 'pining' in front of me."

Remus laughed.

"We need to be going," He said, rising to his feet.

"You're going to stay overnight in the Hospital Wing to make sure the Potion doesn't have any adverse effects. Tomorrow, it's back to class."

Harry nodded, pushing himself up on shaking arms.

"What do people think happened?" Harry asked.

"They think you have Magical Mononucleosis. It's very rare and has some fairly long-term health effects. It'll help explain why you'll look a bit unwell for the rest of the year."

That sounded plausible.

"Now, come on. We need to be getting back."

Harry tried to stand, failing miserably.

"Harry?" Remus asked, looking worried.

"What's wrong? Is it the Potion?"

"No," Harry gasped.

"I just...I haven't been eating."

Remus gaped at him.

"At all?"

Harry nodded, looking away from Remus.

"Why?"

"I thought it might make me less of a threat," Harry whispered, understanding now just how stupid that had been.

"Oh, Harry. That's...a terrible plan."

Harry laughed, feeling some of the tension in his chest release.

"Yeah. I guess it is."

…

The journey back to Hogwarts was uneventful. Remus and Harry used the Floo at Mrs. Figg's, landing right in the Hospital Wing.

Madame Pomfrey fussed over Harry, berating him for starving himself. She forced several Potions down his throat, muttering about self-destructive teenagers.

Harry grinned slightly at her, knowing that she was just worried about him.

Without Voldemort in his head, Harry felt much better. His thinking was less distorted, less dangerous.

While his mental health was much improved, his physical health was a different story. As he settled into the bed she'd made for him, he felt Snape's Potion begin to take effect. His bones ached, a deep and dull pain that spread through his body. Harry winced as he shifted, trying to relieve the sharpest pains. The worst of it was in his hips and spine, horrible stabbing pain.

He reminded himself that this was worth it. He would do anything to keep the people around him safe. At least he should still be able to play Quidditch, he thought wryly. Hip and back pain wouldn't matter too much in the air. Nothing could keep Harry off the team. Not even taking literal poison twice daily.

Evening faded into night, leaving Harry alone in the Hospital Wing. He was finding it difficult to sleep, the discomfort caused by the Potion keeping him awake. The aches hadn't improved, and he felt a bit nauseous.

"Harry?"

He whipped his head around, staring wildly into the dark.

George shimmered into existence as he let his Disillusionment Charm fall away.

"Hi, George," Harry whispered, searching those brown eyes for a sign that they were okay.

He didn't need to look for long.

George closed the distance between them, wrapping his arms around Harry.

"Never do that again," he whispered into Harry's hair.

George moved to pull away, but Harry didn't let him.

"Stay. Please."

Taking the hint, George lay down beside him, keeping his arms wrapped tightly around him.

"Of course. I'll always stay with you. Always."

A/N: This chapter was a lot. Poor Harry.

Next chapter is coming SUNDAY! It will feature some Harry and George fluff as Harry struggles to adjust to this new Potion.

Thank you all for the comments, favorites, and follows. It means a lot :)