It's All On Us
Chapter 4: The Hospital Ward
Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter, nor do I intend to gain any profit from this fanfiction.
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Nov. 7th, 1992
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Harry woke with a start, his head pounding and his wand held firmly in his hand as he scanned his environment.
He was, yet again, in the hospital ward. A nightmare of a bludger had spent all of the match with Slytherin targeting him, a fact which he found more than a little suspect. At first, he'd assumed it was an attack against him by the heir, and had attacked the bludger with all the offensive spells he knew.
Which, unfortunately, were neither numerous nor strong enough to put a dent in the bewitched ball. As a result, his leg was soundly broken as the ball struck him. He'd blacked out for a moment and, somehow, found himself mere inches away from the snitch.
He'd bit back against the pain and launched himself toward the golden ball, only to scream bloody murder when Malfoy 'accidentally' kicked him in his broken leg. He'd blacked out again, but this time he came to when the bludger struck his other leg, along with his Nimbus 2000.
He'd screamed the whole way down, and landed harshly on the pitch from twenty feet above the ground. He'd struggled to keep from passing out due to the pain, and felt something squirming in his hand. He gasped in pain as he shifted to look at it, and was overjoyed to find the snitch safely in his hand.
His joy ended fast when he saw the bludger coming back, this time aimed directly at his face. He'd been saved, however, as Professor Lockhart (yes, Lockhart) transfigured the rogue bludger into a brown kitten.
"Oops," the blonde man smiled, "Meant to banish it."
Harry didn't care in the slightest what his defense professor had meant to do. He was just glad to still have his head.
Though he was annoyed when the kitten started clawing and biting him.
"Never fear, lad." Lockhart continued, aiming his wand at his right leg, "Have you sorted in no time."
Harry paled, as he very much doubted the professor would get lucky twice in a row. The git mumbled some nonsense and a bright light enveloped his right leg and, amazingly, the pain was gone.
Along with all the bones in his leg.
"Professor Lockhart!" Minerva McGonagall called as she reached them, "Perhaps we should let Madam Pomfrey see to Mr. Potter's other leg. It's much less likely she'll bungle it up!"
"Yes, please." Harry grumbled weakly before passing out again.
He'd woken several hours later to find the Gryffindor quidditch team, plus Ron, assembled before his bed. Oliver thanked him profusely for winning the match for them, but bemoaned the loss of the fabulous broom. The twins rapped their captain on the head, reminding him to show some concern over Harry's health. They then informed him that Crabbe and Goyle had been caught setting fire to the school brooms and were facing a month's worth of detentions for it, but the damage was done.
If Harry was to play again, he'd need to get a new broom.
The twins tried to give him some chocolates to brighten his spirit while his bones grew back, but Katie and Angelina took them immediately, on suspicion of them being laced with pranks. Instead, the three chasers each laid a kiss on Harry's head and promised to visit him tomorrow.
When they left, Ron couldn't help pointing out how red Harry's cheeks turned when they did that.
"Sod off, mate." Harry groaned as his best friend sat down on the bed.
"Cheers." Ron smirked, "Good news, though, I went and checked the Owlery while you were out. It came in."
Harry sat up as Ron produced a copy of the Daily Prophet, one dating back to 1943.
Hogwarts Horror comes to an End!
Attacks End as One Student is Expelled!
The article went on to cover most of the information that Hagrid had provided them when they'd visited Tuesday night (Ron had, unfortunately, been unable to get the whole story when he'd visited Monday). It spoke of how Rubeus Hagrid had been expelled for harboring a dangerous magical creature (though it failed to mention what it was) that had attacked several students and killed one.
The person who'd been responsible for catching Hagrid was one Tom Riddle. He'd been an orphan staying in a muggle orphanage when he'd started at Hogwarts, and received an award for Special Services to the School.
"Well, at least we know about the guy who turned him in." Ron said.
"But Hagrid said it wasn't possible," Harry argued, "An acromantula isn't capable of petrifying anything, and he knows more about dangerous magical creatures than anybody we know."
"Except Dumbledore. Mind you, it was only a matter of time before a big spider would start killing people."
Harry nodded; he loved Hagrid, but the man had a very poor idea of what made a house pet.
"So, when are you doing it?" Ron asked.
Harry frowned heavily at that question. The Prophet had been all too pleased to help him, but at a steep price: an interview. Harry had sent back a reply, saying he'd be pleased to pay in gold for the archived newspaper that coincided with Hagrid's story, but the editor had refused his generous offer.
He'd written, 'Only an interview with the Boy-Who-Lived would suffice as payment.'
Bloody paper, Harry thought darkly.
"Dunno." Harry finally answered, "The Prophet wants an interview as soon as possible, but I really don't want to."
"You know they'll show up expecting to talk to you sometime." Ron prophesied, "It wouldn't surprise me if there was already someone here for the quidditch game."
Harry frowned, but couldn't refute his claim. It was all too likely some reporter was there, watching while he broke both his legs.
"Did they ever find anything on that bludger?" Harry asked.
"Dunno. If they did, they haven't mentioned it yet. Oh, that reminds me."
Ron bent behind the bed and pulled out a folded cloth, one whose contents Harry could guess. Ron gently set the cloth down and unwrapped it, revealing the broken remains of his beloved Nimbus 2000.
"Bloody heir." Harry muttered.
"Fuck him." Ron agreed.
"Five points," the boys looked up, startled as Professor McGonagall joined them, "For that language, Mr. Weasley. How are you, Mr. Potter?"
"Grateful you stopped Lockhart before he mangled my other leg, Professor." Harry answered.
The Gryffindor Head of House nodded, her eyes focused on the broom she had purchased herself.
"I am most sorry this happened today, Mr. Potter." she spoke softly, clearly affected by the near loss of another of her cubs, "I had hoped a thorough examination of the bludger would provide answers, but it did not. As far as I and Professor Flitwick could determine, there was no magical alteration to the bludger."
"The heir covered his tracks, then." Ron concluded.
McGonagall frowned, but did not refute his claim. Instead, she focused on the paper in Harry's lap. With a quick flick of her wand, the paper leapt into her hand and she skimmed the first page.
Her frown deepened as she lowered the paper, "You have been digging."
It wasn't a question, but the boys nodded anyway.
"May I ask why you felt the need to violate Hagrid's privacy in such a manner?" The professor asked.
"We spoke with him." Harry said quietly, "He told us about it, all that he knew."
The professor clicked her tongue and idly conjured a chair to sit in before she continued, "Then why the paper?"
"To see if there were details he didn't know, or forgot." Ron explained.
Professor McGonagall resisted the urge to smile. She was quite proud of their investigative reasoning. If only they would turn their efforts to their classes, then they would each be wonderful students.
Instead, there had already been a noticeable drop in their marks. While it was true that the only tests that mattered were the O.W.L.s and the N.E.W.T.s, their current grades were not enough to earn more than two O.W.L.s. Admittedly, a large part of that was Potions (which the pair had always barely succeeded in) and History of Magic (which had been declining long before she'd started teaching at Hogwarts).
The two had been doing well enough before, mostly thanks to Ms. Granger. Unless they began to focus their efforts on their education, they were likely doomed to mediocrity. Mr. Weasley had a sharp mind, able to see around corners well enough that he had defeated her own chess board.
And she had not been defeated since 1978.
If Ronald was capable of that, then he was capable of passing, if not thriving, in his studies. But studying was hard, and he didn't get the instant gratification that came with victory. He needed that reinforcement, she believed.
Harry, on the other hand, was a hard case to get a handle on. She was only peripherally aware of what his homelife had been like, and even then it was only through Albus's filter. She trusted her friend and mentor, but she was aware of what his own home life had been like. No matter how great a man he was, he had no real understanding of what a healthy home was. So long as Harry wasn't mistreated (which she suspected he was), then Albus wouldn't interfere.
To him, it was ok for muggles to keep their kids in a closet. It was ok to have him do more chores than the others.
It was ok to be raised without love.
But Albus had a point. In the 12 years since that fateful night, the boy had been fed, housed and, above all, kept safe.
Death Eaters had made several attempts on Harry's life during the first few years of his stay at the Dursleys', each meeting the same results: painful injuries and an inability to recall where they'd been and what they had been doing. That kind of protection was deeply impressive, especially when the Death Eaters had several experienced ward breakers in their employ. They were the best protection available, short of hiding him away in an unplottable estate.
But the price was terrible, and had begun to show the moment Harry had arrived at Hogwarts. The wards had been built up to an astonishing power but, after only four months, there had been a 12 percent drop in power. As of Halloween this year, that had dropped by another 5 percent. By the end of the year, they would be at less than 75 percent. Still enough to keep Harry safe, but if this trend continued, the wards would be offline well before his seventeenth birthday.
Albus had been struggling to discern why it was happening, but Minerva had a very good idea why: the wards depended on Harry considering Privett Drive to be his home. But it hadn't been, not since he first got off the train last year. The wards recharged a bit when he was away for summer, but that recharge meant nothing when the root of the issue remained unaddressed. All this left them in a bind; if they sent Harry away, he'd be safe but miserable and vulnerable to his relatives. If they kept him, then they'd need to relocate him eventually.
Minerva was very in favor of keeping Harry in Hogwarts, but his marks were a damning strike against him remaining. The problem was, she wasn't quite sure why he scored such low marks.
Granted, Harry had already fought and successfully defeated You-Know-Who last year, securing the Philosopher's Stone in the process. Now, he was focusing all his efforts on discovering and defeating the 'Heir of Slytherin'. When paired with his efforts in quidditch, these events left less time and interest for his studies.
Perhaps his broom getting destroyed was a good thing in the end. She knew he'd never give up the hunt for the heir, no matter how much she wished he would. Without quidditch to add to his distractions, he might begin to show improvement.
Or, more likely, devote more time to finding the heir.
She needed another way to divert his attention, something that would require him to raise his grades to take part in. She planned to bring that stipulation to her quidditch team next year and had, in fact, intended to bring it last year but had held off when she saw Harry catch Longbottom's remembrall.
Suddenly, an idea clicked in her head, one which she wanted to kick herself for not considering earlier.
"Excellent reasoning." Minerva congratulated the two, "If only you showed such diligence in your studies, you might not have dropped so noticeably in your marks."
The boys had the decency to blush, their shame clear as daylight.
"Incidentally," the transfiguration professor continued, "I have a proposal for you gentlemen. Professors Lockhart and Flitwick are preparing a dueling club for next month. Sign-ups will begin in two weeks. By that time, I expect to see your grades surpass your previous scores. If not, you will not be permitted to join until they are."
The boys had been hesitant when she'd brought up Lockhart, but had appeared downright jubilant when she'd mentioned Flitwick. It was well known that he'd been a dueling master, so it was the acme of foolishness to even suggest having a dueling club without him.
Minerva smiled as they hastily agreed to her conditions, not unlike a cat who had cornered a canary.
"Oh, and Mr. Potter, that requirement will be in place for quidditch next year."
Harry nodded, a little disheartened upon hearing that, then said, "I'm sorry about the broom, Professor. I'd be glad to reimburse the school for the cost."
McGonagall raised a confused eyebrow before saying, "Mr. Potter, the school did not purchase that broom; I did."
Harry's eyes bulged at the knowledge, but quickly regained control, "Then I suppose the money should go to you."
"Absolutely not, Mr. Potter. As far as I am concerned, you have honored our initial agreement by playing as skillfully as you have. Instead, I suggest putting those Galleons toward a new broom."
Minerva chided herself for such a suggestion. She had planned to put Harry's education ahead of her love of quidditch, and she did the exact opposite.
Fortunately, Harry frowned as well, "I'm sorry, Professor, but I don't think I can. Lockhart's books cost a lot of money and I doubt I have enough Galleons to afford it."
"A pity." Minerva really did consider it a pity, but a necessary one, "Perhaps next year, we will have a defense professor who is not also a professional author. As it is, it's getting quite late. Come, Mr. Weasley, I'll escort you to the common room."
Ron nodded, standing and gathering his materials, "I'll see you tomorrow, Harry."
"Night, Ron."
Not much happened after that. Madam Pomfrey came and checked on him, and Hermione, before offering him something to help him sleep.
Harry refused.
It seemed to be a good choice, in the end, as he woke to a strange sound in the dark. Harry ignored the pounding of his head and put his glasses on, keeping his wand raised the whole time.
He strained his eyes and ears to find the source of the sound, only to find himself alone in the dimly lit hospital ward. Harry cast a homenum revelio, one of two privacy spells he had learned in the past week, and was relieved when it revealed no one other than Hermione.
He settled back into his bed and, mindful of his leg, slowly turned onto his side to set his glasses on the bedside table.
"Harry Potter!"
Harry leaned back as fast as he could, his wand in hand and pointed directly at Dobby.
"The bloody hell!?"
"Ooooh!" Dobby clutched his ears, whimpering as he did, "Harry Potter must leave Hogwarts! Dobby thought his bludger would have done it, but Harry Potter remains! Harry Potter must leave!"
Harry glared murderously at the elf, "You tried to kill me?"
Dobby looked taken aback, "Never, Sir! Harry Potter is a champion of house elves, Sir. Harry Potter has done much to aid our kind!"
Harry frowned as he retrieved his glasses, then glanced at the elf's hands and noticed they were heavily bandaged, "Who did that to you?"
"Dobby's family, Sir. They told him to shut his hands in an oven."
Harry frowned deeply at that, becoming eerily reminded of his own childhood growing up with the Dursleys.
"Why did Malfoy tell you to do that?"
Dobby didn't answer this time; instead, he whimpered again and pulled at his ears.
Harry sighed and grabbed the elf, prying his hands from his ears, and had him sit down next to him.
"Dobby," Harry said, "I can't think of any other way to say this, so here it goes: so long as Hermione is lying in that bed, I will be here. So long as the heir remains and the chamber is hidden, I will be here. You can magic me away, break every bone in my body, it doesn't matter. My friend is petrified and I owe it to her to find who did this and stop them."
Dobby looked at Harry with wide eyes and muttered, "Harry Potter is a hero."
The boy groaned, "I'm getting bloody tired of hearing that. Alright, Dobby, so unless you can tell me anything at all about this, I need you to leave so I can get some-"
A sound echoed in the hallway, and they could hear footsteps coming their way. Dobby quickly disappeared and Harry tossed his glasses to the nightstand and laid down, pretending to be asleep.
The door opened and closed quickly, a sound like a cloth moving echoed from the entrance.
"Stupid firstie! If not for me, you'd have got nicked by Filch!"
Harry shot up upon hearing Ron's voice and put on his glasses to see what was happening.
Ron had his dad's invisibility cloak in his hands and was berating a first year, Colin Creevey, who was a little pale and was holding his camera like his life depended on it.
"Fuck were you doing, coming out this late at night?!" Ron demanded.
"Ron!" Harry called out, "Quiet down before Filch hears!"
Ron still looked furious but did as he was bayed, dragging Colin to Harry's bed so they could talk quietly.
"Right. Now, what happened?" Harry asked.
"This berk decided to go out after hours with his camera." Ron explained, "I was doing homework in the common room and saw him leave so I came after him. Bloody good thing I did, Norris caught him and Filch was right behind. If I hadn't dragged you away, you'd be in a heap of trouble and we'd have lost Merlin knows how many points. Bloody hell, and with the heir still about? What could be so fucking important as to make you risk your arse like that??"
Colin didn't speak, but his glance at Harry was all the answer they needed. Ron groaned and sat down on Harry's bed, rubbing his face in exasperation while Harry just looked pissed.
"You wanted my photograph, Colin? Are you that thick to think a photo of me is worth detentions, points, or quite possibly your life??" Harry demanded.
"It's not worth any of those," Colin said quietly and a little ashamed, "But…"
Ron and Harry shared a look, each understanding there was more to this than they'd thought.
"What is it, Colin?" Harry asked, careful to keep his voice as calm as possible, "What's worth all this?"
Colin took a deep breath, steadying his nerves before saying, "There was a woman at the game today. She said she was a reporter and that sh-she'd pay me fifty Galleons for a picture of you in the hospital."
Harry and Ron frowned at that, both deeply disturbed by the implications of it. For one, Ron had been right earlier when he'd suggested a reporter had been at the game. For another, it was fairly clear the Prophet wouldn't let a little thing like ethics stop them from a story.
Which, in the long run, meant that the longer Harry put off his obligatory interview, the more unscrupulous they would be.
"Why do you need the money, Colin?" Harry asked.
Colin frowned before answering, "My family isn't doing so great, financially. They could really use the money."
That hit home for both boys, Ron especially. He came from a family well known for being poor. He couldn't even afford to replace his wand because of their poverty. If that kind of money was dangled in front of him like that, he wasn't sure what he would do. He'd like to think he was a better person, a better friend than that, but he found himself doubting it and he did not like that thought at all.
Harry, on the other hand, hadn't had much money in his life. He'd lived most of his life the way Dobby did, a slave for the Dursleys. He hadn't even known about his family money until last year, so the idea of him having money was still new to him. At least when it came to himself. He'd happily spend every bit of his gold on his friends though, especially to keep them safe.
The two shared a look and sighed before Harry said, "Get after it, then."
Colin blinked, confused, before an astonished look crossed his features and he asked, "Seriously?!"
"Seriously." Harry muttered, already regretting it but determined to see it through, "Oi, where are you going?"
Ron shot him a confused look, "Getting out of his shot?"
"No, you aren't." Harry grunted, "If I'm fucking doing this for him, I'm not doing this alone. Sit your arse down and let's get this stupid thing done."
Ron frowned but complied, figuring that Harry would chicken out without him. He was partially right, as any reminder of Harry's fame made him deeply uncomfortable, but he also wanted Ron involved because he knew his fame was a budding sore spot in their friendship. Bringing him in more would hopefully ease it away before it ever became a problem.
Hopefully.
The two boys settled on the bed and motioned for him to get the shot. Colin, smiling like it was Christmas, raised his camera and the two were temporarily blinded by the flash.
'rriiipppp...teeaarrrr...killll…'
Harry frowned as his vision cleared, "Did you hear that?"
Ron and Colin shook their heads. Harry lifted a finger to keep them quiet, straining his ears to listen for any sound.
'Riiippp...sssssskinnn...fleesssssshh…'
There was a voice coming from outside the door, a vicious sounding voice that promised nothing but pain and death for whoever met it. Harry drew his wand and tore his blanket off, hobbling to his feet and holding onto Ron to steady himself.
"Do you hear it?" Harry whispered.
Ron and Colin nodded, each drawing their wands as they did.
"I dunno what it is, but it sounds big." Ron whispered.
Harry shot him a puzzled look, but quickly noticed the sound Ron referred to. It was a strange sound, one that echoed along the corridors; something scraping against the stone. It was familiar to Harry, almost like he'd heard something similar before.
"You didn't hear the voice?" Harry asked quietly.
Both the other boys shook their heads. The sound got louder as whatever it was came closer to the door. The sound stopped suddenly and they could hear something large take a deep breath.
"MEAT!"
Harry heard the sound before he felt the impact against the door, the vibrations of which were powerful enough to make the boys stagger and for Harry to cry out in pain from his leg.
Before the thing outside attacked the door again (a door which was already showing damage from the force of the impact), Harry cast the other of his privacy charms. It was known as the imperturbable charm and it erected an invisible barrier around a door which cancelled both smells and sounds.
He'd pranked Malfoy several times during the week with that charm.
At first, it seemed to work. The sounds from the other side of the door stopped, and there was no follow-up impact. But then he felt his barrier break and heard it hit the door again.
To his utter terror, the thing outside emitted a horrifying chuckle and said "Not good enough, meat."
"Together!" Harry shouted, quickly relaying how to cast the charm and it's incantation.
Harry felt his barrier go up again and poured all his magic into it. Judging by the strain on Colin's face, he'd been able to successfully cast and hold it as well.
Ron, however, was struggling to even get his wand to emit more than weak red sparks.
"For Merlin's fucking sake!" Harry growled as he held his barrier up against the thing outside, "If we live through this, I'm buying you a new wand!"
Colin collapsed to the floor, his barrier collapsing under another hit from the thing outside. Ron grunted as he tossed his wand away and took Colin's, casting the charm perfectly and pouring all his efforts into holding it.
But two twelve year olds were no match when compared to whatever was outside. The two felt their shields collapse at the same time and saw the wooden door split in several places.
The thing outside whispered, "Time to die, little meat."
Before it came in, Dobby reappeared in a loud pop sound and snapped his fingers. Suddenly, the three boys were far away from the hospital ward; they found themselves in the Gryffindor common room.
The elf moved suddenly, launching itself at Harry and pinning him onto a couch.
"Does Harry Potter see now why he must leave??" The elf pleaded desperately.
Harry nodded slightly, "I do. But as I said, I'm staying here. I owe it to her."
Dobby teared up, his expression showing more defeat than Harry'd ever seen before. The elf opened its mouth, clearly about to beg again, but a camera flash stopped him.
Dobby, Harry and Ron turned to stare at Colin who, unrepentantly, snapped another picture as they looked on. Dobby scowled at him and snapped his fingers, causing the camera to break cleanly in two, before disappearing himself.
Ron and Harry shared a tired look before Harry sat back down on the couch. Ron settled down next to him, clearly still in shock about what had happened earlier.
"...Reparo."
They glanced up as Colin finished repairing his camera. He picked it up and tested it for a moment before meeting their gazes.
"You have no idea how often that happens."