Chapter Three: This Balloon is a Wizard
Hermione had been force fed significant amounts of chocolate, and a potion for dreamless sleep immediately upon their return to the Hospital Wing. She had been put in the bed next to Ron, far away from Harry. His eyes lingered over Ron's prone form, still laying there, mouth open, silent. Harry was struck again by his lack of snoring.
Dumbledore had submitted Harry to endure all kinds of medical charms and scans. Madam Pomfrey worked diligently through the night, as Dumbledore paced off to the side, sometimes pausing to inspect Harry with a sad stare. When Harry caught Dumbledore looking, Dumbledore would simply begin to pace again. After about thirty minutes of this, listening to the soft hum of Madam Pomfrey's wand as she cast on him, and Dumbledore's methodical footsteps Harry had suggested that the Headmaster would perhaps, "Maybe be more comfortable if you sat down, sir?" Dumbledore looked surprised for a moment, before he smiled and said, "Right, right," and conjured a basic straight backed wooden chair. He did not sit.
At one point, Snape had strode into the hospital wing, the Minister close at his tail. He seemed to be positively fuming, ranting about Sirius and how Harry just had to be behind it, "I know he is!"
"Come now Severus- surely he couldn't have- I mean look at him." The Minister tried, waving his hand absently toward Harry, who was currently being inspected. Harry did his best to look innocently confused.
"Potter! You insolent little brat!" Snape began, trudging his way toward Harry, with a furious scowl on his face. "You tell me what you did!" Dumbledore stepped between Snape and the bed, halting Snape in place.
"Severus," he said in a stern voice, "And Cornelius. Please, a word in the hall."
"Headmaster!" Snape recoiled, "You cannot seriously believe this little-"
"Now, Severus." Dumbledore dictated. And Dumbledore lead them from the Hospital Wing. They talked in harsh whispers, Harry couldn't quite hear what they were saying, but Dumbledore came back in a few moments later, resuming his post. They were not interrupted again.
Through the entire examination, Harry's scar did not stop bleeding. It continued to ooze blood at a slow, yet steady rate. Madam Pomfrey, tired of interrupting her medical practices to clean it, conjured thick white bandages that she wrapped around Harry's head.
Night crawled into day with a long series of lights, whizzes and whirs as she cast a ridiculously extensive series of detection spells and charms on him. The only communication Harry had for the better part of four hours was Madam Pomfrey's instructions.
"Look up."
"Drink this."
"This will be a wee bit bright Mr. Potter, eyes closed."
Harry had almost fallen asleep a few times, but he'd always be riled by some odd sensation of a spell working it's way through his system. Finally, as the last bits of sun pierced the windows of the Hospital Wing, Madam Pomfrey deposited her wand in her apron.
"Mr. Potter, in all my days at Hogwarts I've never seen anything quite like this." She said frankly, folding her small arms over her chest. Harry wondered briefly in his tired state exactly how long she HAD been at Hogwarts.
"Never seen anything quite like what Poppy?" Dumbledore asked.
"Well," she said, sitting on the very edge of Harry's bed. She moved her hands around each other in small circles, trying to express something neither of them could see. "Magic flows through us, almost like blood." Only now did Dumbledore sit. He rested his elbows on his knees, and leaned forward to listen. "As a young Wizard gets older, their body begins to develop; you'll get taller, your voice gets deeper, you'll need to shave-"
"Your magic becomes stronger, more attuned." Madam Pomfrey said, fixing Harry with a look. Harry got the distinct feeling she was explaining this much more for him, than for Dumbledore. "All young witches and wizards perform accidental magic, vanishing your vegetables, summoning toys, what have you," she explained, waving her hands as she spoke. Harry remembered in a flash, an infantile Dudley wailing as Harry summoned a chocolate chip cookie off of his plate. He had been punished most severely. "This is due to the instability and influx of foreign factors, your magic."
"By the time you get to Hogwarts, your magic has by and large stabilized, though it's still steadily growing in power. This is why we teach students incrementally as we do. We have the first years transform matchsticks into needles, levitate objects in place. We do this to teach them how to stabilize, and how to concentrate their magic."
"Mr. Potter's magic," she said, "Is currently both unstable, and fluctuating. Rapidly." She finished.
Harry was unsure of what this meant, and Harry was remiss to notice that Dumbledore looked equally unsure. Concern etched across his aged features.
Madam Pomfrey dug through the front pocket of her apron, and brandished her wand once more, and with a wave, conjured a flaccid blue balloon. She tossed it into the air, and with a flick of her wand, it stalled in place.
"The balloon, is your average thirteen year old wizard." She explained, swirling her wand in a sort of lazy clockwise circle. "The air inside the balloon," she said as it began to slowly inflate, "is this wizards magic."
The balloon inflated gradually, up to about seventy percent capacity, and as she rolled her hand backwards, counter clockwise, a little bit of air squeezed its way out, down to maybe sixty percent capacity.
"Much like a stomach, as we adapt to casting more complex spells, more regularly, our magic adjusts to fit the needs of our casting." Madam Pomfrey explained as the balloon continued to fluctuate.
"Now this balloon," she flourished her wand once more, and conjured a second balloon. This one was red, with a gold stripe across the middle.
"This balloon is Mr. Potter."
She tossed it into the air, levitated it in place, and looked sideways at Albus. He did not look back at her, his eyes locked on the balloon hanging in the crisp morning light. Madam Pomfrey began to roll her wand, and slowly the balloon began to inflate.
And it inflated.
And it inflated.
Harry watched diligently as it grew and grew- he thought of the fire burning down his arm as he'd cast his patronus, how much power he had felt in that moment. Harry watched the balloon come dangerously close to popping, before Madam Pomfrey rolled her wand quickly counter clockwise.
It began to deflate, fast. The air escaping made a sound entirely inappropriate to the current situation. The balloon came close to empty, before stalling with just the barest bits of air in it. Madam Pomfrey rolled her wrist the opposite way, and it began to inflate again.
Dumbledore leaned back in his chair, and Harry mirrored the action by falling backwards onto his pillow. Harry tried to contemplate what he was hearing. His head was foggy from lack of sleep, and the words he was hearing felt hard to digest. Madam Pomfrey vanished both balloons, with a sweep of her wand.
"Madam Pomfrey..." Harry spoke. She turned to him. "What does all this mean?"
"Well," she said, rising to her feet, "I'm not too sure Mr. Potter. It could be due to the presence of the Dementors but, I've never read or heard of them affecting someone in a way such as this. And there's also that scar of yours..." she said tiredly, "The only thing I'm certain of is that your magic is unstable. We'll have to keep you in the Hospital Wing for a few days while I consult some colleagues from St. Mungo's-" Harry groaned in protest. There were only a few days left before the end of term, and he was going to spend them tied to his bed in the Hospital Wing. This was horrible news.
"And it would be terribly irresponsible to put you around muggles in a state like this, not forgetting your little mishap over the summer. If I deem you're still not fit by the end of term, we may well have to keep you here into the holiday." Harry's head snapped up at this. Keep him here? At Hogwarts? He looked to Dumbledore, a weird feeling in his gut. On one hand, he may not have to go to the Dursley's this summer, a dream come true. On the other hand, he may be condemned to a sick bed for the entirety of his break. Harry thought one option was still favorable to the other.
Dumbledore stared back at Harry, though Harry couldn't read the expression on his face.
"For now though, you must get your rest-" Madam Pomfrey finally seemed to notice that the room had been bathed in morning light, "Goodness! More importantly, I need to get my rest! Enough about you Mr. Potter." She jabbed, a tone of faux reprimanding in her voice. Harry smiled at her, and he saw the hint of a smile tug at the corner of her lips.
"Albus, I'd like to have a quick word with you in my office before I retire." She said, stepping to Harry's bedside and pouring one last potion. "Dreamless sleep." She explained, pushing it into Harry's hands. "Drink. I'll check in with you after you've had a good long rest."
She made to move toward the door, and Dumbledore stayed put.
"Albus?" She asked.
"Just a moment Poppy." Dumbledore replied. She scoffed at him, and he smiled, "Really, only a moment."
Madam Pomfrey made her way out of the doors of the Hospital Wing, leaving Dumbledore and Harry sitting in each other's silence. Harry moved the goblet back and forth in his hands gently, watching the potion swish around the golden rim.
"You know, sir." Harry said, not looking up from his potion. "You know what's wrong with me. I can tell."
Dumbledore contemplated Harry, watching him absentmindedly swirl his potion.
"I do have a theory." He replied. They sat in silence like that, for a short while.
"When will you tell me?" Harry asked his Headmaster, looking up to meet his gaze.
"Well Harry, once I talk to Poppy I should have a more concrete-"
"Everything." Harry said. His green eyes burned holes into Dumbledore's blue ones. "When are you going to tell me everything?"
They simply stared at one another. Harry's features were fixed, stone; while Dumbledore seemed to dance through a range of different emotions. He raised his hands to his face, and sagged back into his wooden chair.
Slowly, Dumbledore lowered his hands from his face. He stared at them for a moment; they were wrinkled and well worn. 'Perhaps,' he thought to himself, flipping his hands over. 'Perhaps it is time.'
"Soon." Dumbledore said finally, looking at Harry. Harry looked at him with the same steely expression. "I promise. But for now Harry..." Dumbledore took his hands, and gently pushed the goblet toward Harry's face. Harry stared at him, and nodded.
Harry downed the potion in two big gulps, and Dumbledore scooped the goblet from his hands. All at once his head seemed to melt into his pillow. It was all Harry could do to mutter a, "Goodnight, sir..." as darkness took him.
The door to the study of Albus Dumbledore closed with a gentle click. His old hand lingered, before sliding down the wood and falling limply to his side. Fawkes trilled at him, his red and golden plume of feathers seemingly ablaze with the coating of warm morning light. Dumbledore did not address his companion.
He slowly trudged his way to his desk, his feet dragging as he did so, and fell heavily into his chair. Fawkes trilled again. Dumbledore put his head in his hands. His body began to shake softly, as he was wracked with a fit of sobs.
Fawkes sang for him. Fawkes sang a long and high pitched, sad song, as Albus Dumbledore wept.
On an earth with no light, Harry floated atop a still inky black sea, gazing up at the starless sky. Harry slept for what felt like an eternity. Throughout his sleep, he'd hear gentle murmurings float through his subconscious, though none lulled him from his deep state. He was but a black dot on a canvas of pure darkness. It was easily the most comforting sleep he'd had in his thirteen years, but it couldn't last forever.
"I'm sorry... I am... so sorry..." were the words that finally pulled Harry from his slumber. Harry opened his eyes slowly, his body felt like a heavy stone, firmly held by gravity to his bed. To his left, in the straight backed chair that Dumbledore had conjured the night before, Harry could just make out a figure in the dusk light. They were crying quietly, muttering to themselves, "I'm sorry..." over and over again. Harry tried to reach for his glasses as quietly as he could, but still, the noise roused his guest. As he put on his glasses, the disheveled form of Professor Lupin came into his view. He looked especially haggard, sporting a head bandage similar to Harry's. He was quickly wiping his eyes on the sleeve of his tattered robe.
"Ah, Harry. I didn't think you'd be awake just yet. Considering the... night you had..." He said, sniffling once and trying to regain his posture. "Really I should go I..." he looked like he was struggling with something as he spoke, "I was just... stopping in to say goodbye."
"Goodbye?" Harry asked confusedly, propping himself up to a sitting position with his elbows. "Term isn't out till' the end of this week-" Harry groaned, "Professor tell me I haven't been asleep three whole days."
"No, no." Professor Lupin said, "I just think it's best I take my leave a bit early, is all." Professor Lupin smiled sadly at Harry. Harry did not like the look he was being given.
"And why would you do that?" Harry pressed. Lupin leveled his features. Harry had an impression he wasn't going to like his answer.
"I've resigned." said Lupin. Folding his hands in his lap. Harry was gobsmacked, he felt like he had just been slapped awake, and he asked, "Why?"
"Harry... with my condition it's not wise for me to be around students. It's not safe to-"
"That's ridiculous!" Harry cut him off, "You're the best defense teacher we've ever had! We've learned loads from you! You went a whole year without a problem- One bad night shouldn't be enough make you leave forever!" Harry wasn't exactly sure where this anger was coming from, but he did know he wasn't ready to lose Lupin. He didn't want him to disappear into the night, like Sirius had.
"Harry my mistake almost cost-"
"That wasn't you! It was Snape's bloody fault for not bringing you your potion!" Harry exclaimed.
"Harry I could have seriously hurt-"
"Professor Lupin!"
"Harry!" Lupin exclaimed, raising his voice and standing from his chair so fast he knocked it over. Harry shut his mouth. "Harry I could have killed you- and Hermione! Killed!"
"Or worse!" He said, turning from Harry. "I could have bit you," he was hysterical, "I could have turned you!"
"Lily and James' only son! And I could've-"
"Shut up." Harry said. It was Lupin's turned to be gobsmacked. He shook his head once, as if he had heard wrong.
"Harry I-"
"Shut. Up." Harry repeated. Lupin simply stared opened mouthed. "Professor you-" Harry swallowed hard, "You saved me. You taught me the Patronus. Without you Sirius wouldn't have his soul, Hermione and I would just be shells of our former selves! We needed you."
Harry fixed Lupin with a stare that Lupin found difficult to maintain holding.
"Harry, I implore you to see; I have to keep you safe, for James and Lily-"
"Shut up!" Harry yelled. The window behind him cracked noisily, but Harry didn't hear it. He took two fistfuls of bedsheets as he spoke, "They're dead Professor! Do you know who that leaves me with?"
"Nobody!" Harry's voice was steadily growing louder. Lupin simply watched him. "They're gone, all I have of them are scraps, memories that aren't even mine! And then you come along, you and Sirius!"
"The two closest links I have to my parents- Sirius is gone; Hey, who knows! He could be in the Ministry's custody right now- waiting to be kissed!" The window made another audible crack.
"Now Harry really I-"
"You're all I have!" Harry exploded, and with it, the window behind him. Shards of stained glass poured out onto the grassy hills below.
Lupin lifted a hand, as if to reach out to Harry, but his hand went limp halfway, and he simply held it in the space between them. Harry angrily wiped the tears from his beet red face. When he looked back up at Lupin, he saw the face of a defeated man.
"Professor you're all I've got left..." Harry pleaded. "Please. Just don't go."
"Harry..."
Lupin shared a look with Harry for a long time, it could have been minutes, before swallowing loudly, and then clearing his throat.
"I've got something I need to take care of." He spun on his heel and took quick strides toward the door. Harry watched through a lens of disappointment.
"Harry," Lupin started, turning just his head to glance at his student.
Harry just watched dejected, anger having slipped away in place of his true emotion.
"Sorry for popping out. Time is of the essence and I've got to have a talk with Dumbledore. Rumor has it there's a job opening, Defense Against the Dark Arts," Professor Lupin said with a smirk. "I've actually got a bit of teaching experience under my belt. You see Harry..."
"I think I might be just the man for the job." Lupin smiled in a way most mischievously.
"I'm not gonna leave you Harry. Not again." He promised. Harry smiled, and when Lupin went to turn away, Harry called, "Professor!"
"Yes Harry?"
"I'm sorry for yelling." Harry said. Lupin chuckled.
"Don't be."