Chapter Ninety-Six - St. Mungo's Hospital for Magical Maladies and Injuries

Harry sat on a rickety wooden chair in a crowded reception area. He was surrounded on all sides by witches and wizards sporting various maladies. Healers in green robes had stopped to speak to a few individuals whose conditions were particularly curious, among them a man with tusks protruding from either side of his head and a woman who couldn't open her mouth without croaking. Harry watched as the healers made note of their complaints on their clipboards. The ambient hum of conversation was like the ringing of a tea kettle in his ears. He hadn't been able to think since they'd arrived. He could only listen to that ringing.

A voice raised itself above the din and attracted Harry's attention. It was Remus. He stood in front of a desk marked "Inquiries" and seemed to be arguing with the witch who was posted there.

"You're not listening! It was an amulet of some kind, not a spell that backfired! He should be here. Check again!"

Harry's gaze wandered toward a floor guide posted near the desk. The first line informed him that the ground floor was reserved for "Artifact Accidents." He scanned the titles of the other floors, wondering where they had taken his godfather.

He felt someone grip his hand. Mrs. Zabini was seated next to him. She smiled at him in a way that was meant to be reassuring, though her worried glance quickly reverted back to Remus. Harry supposed he should feel grateful that she came, but all he could feel at the moment was the numbing tingle of shock.

"Here he comes," Mrs. Zabini said in a bracing tone, gently encouraging Harry to his feet as Remus stalked toward them, looking angry and anxious.

"Fourth floor," he growled, "Those idiots are treating him like it's some sort of jinx gone wrong."

"Is he alright?" Harry asked, his mouth feeling dry and cottony when he finally spoke.

"She didn't say," Remus replied with a slight shake of his head, "Come on…"

They made their way toward the lifts. Harry walked between Remus and Mrs. Zabini, conscious that the two of them were exchanging worried looks behind his back. He didn't care. He just wanted to see Sirius.

The lift deposited them on the fourth floor. Mrs. Zabini directed Harry to another, smaller waiting area while Remus went in search of a healer. He resented the solicitous way Mrs. Zabini asked if he wanted anything to drink while they waited. A cool beverage might have soothed the tightness in his throat, but Harry didn't want anything. If he couldn't see Sirius right away, then the next best thing was to be left alone. A part of him knew that his current feelings were the result of anxiety, and he refrained from voicing his resentment aloud. He merely shook his head at Mrs. Zabini's kind offers. He tried to take a seat, but abandoned it in favor of pacing the hall.

When Remus returned, his expression was clouded, and for a moment Harry was gripped with despair. Remus must have read the worry on Harry's face, because his frown immediately softened into a reassuring smile.

"He's resting," he explained, "I've spoken to the healer who tended to him when he arrived. His condition is stable."

"That's not all they said, is it?" Harry asked, "I know it's not. What else did they say?"

Remus frowned and rubbed his unshaven chin. His eyes had a tired, misty look to them as he slowly admitted, "They say… They think he's been cursed."

"Cursed?" Mrs. Zabini asked, "By that locket? How can that be?"

Remus paused, considering the question for himself before he sighed, "I suppose… It could have been the spell, after all. Whatever hex he used to break that locket, a part of it might have rebounded onto him."

This didn't make any sense to Harry. Sirius had destroyed the locket. He had beaten it. They had won. No, if something was wrong with Sirius, it was because of Voldemort.

Harry had already tried to explain this to Remus, though his words had been garbled in the panic that followed Sirius's collapse. He made no mention of his suspicions now, and merely asked, "When can we see him?"

"The healers need more time to make sure it's safe for others to be near him," Remus said, resting a hand on Harry's shoulder, "They don't fully understand the nature of the curse."

Harry knew that Remus was just as disappointed to be kept from Sirius's side. This thought alone prevented Harry from shrugging off the comforting weight of his hand. He merely nodded his head in acknowledgement of what was said, and soon resumed his pacing.

Several hours passed as they waited for more news. Once, Mrs. Zabini suggested that they return to Grimmauld Place to rest, but when faced with blank stares from both Harry and Remus, she didn't mention it again. Instead, she busied herself with fetching hot tea and snacks from the visitor center on the fifth floor, which Harry did not eat.

Eventually, Remus grew impatient with waiting. He left them to see if he could find another healer for an update on Sirius's condition. Mrs. Zabini quietly informed Harry that she was going to check on Blaise, but would return shortly. Harry waved her away, his feet never stopping their relentless stride. He knew he was being surly and ungrateful, but he didn't care. He welcomed the chance to be left alone.

Back and forth he walked, his eyes trained on the floor below him. He must have tread the same steps over a thousand times. He was wondering how much longer he would have to walk before he wore a trench in the floor when he stopped. Someone was blocking the path in front of him. His head snapped up. He was ready to vent his frustration out on whoever had intruded on his grief when he realized that the tall figure before him was Albus Dumbledore.

"Professor!" he gasped, taking a few steps back. The headmaster was the last person he expected to see here. Although the Order of the Phoenix was his own creation, Dumbledore had never stepped foot inside Grimmauld Place. It was astonishing to see him now, and to have him appear so suddenly.

"Hello, Harry," Dumbledore said kindly, "I hope I'm not intruding?"

He was, but saying this to the headmaster seemed unspeakably rude, even to Harry's distraught frame of mind. Still bewildered as to his reason for being there, Harry accepted his offer to take a seat in the deserted waiting area.

"Ah, I see you have not been partaking in St. Mungo's hospitality while you are waiting?" Dumbledore commented, referencing the cold tea and untouched snacks that Mrs. Zabini had obtained earlier in the day.

"Professor…" said Harry slowly, "Sorry, but… Why are you here?"

Dumbledore smiled at him, not finding the question offensive at all. "Naturally, you are curious. I do not always visit my students on their summer vacations, and it seems that I now find you at the worst possible time. But it is due to these unpleasant circumstances that I feel compelled to speak to you personally, Harry."

Harry tried and failed to restrain a grimace. This was another surprise, and one he did not relish. The last time he had spoken to the headmaster had been after Professor Moody was murdered. Harry had been forced to recount the whole terrible confrontation with Lord Voldemort. And after all of that, he had heard nothing from the headmaster all summer. Now he was here, arriving without warning, and he expected Harry to simply talk to him?

"First, let me offer my sincere condolences for Sirius's condition. I understand you were with him when it happened."

Harry began to apologize, ready to accept the blame for agreeing to open the locket in the first place, but Dumbledore stopped him.

"I cannot let you take responsibility when I'm as much to blame," Dumbledore admitted. "I knew about the locket. Sirius and Remus told me of its existence themselves. And I, however unwisely, entrusted it to their care."

Harry realized what this implied. Dumbledore must have known that the locket came into Harry's possession during his second year at school. He felt renewed shame for having lied to Dumbledore back then. For a moment, he considered confessing everything. But then he recalled that Dumbledore had not mentioned it himself, and he decided against bringing up the past.

With this in mind, Harry asked the headmaster what it was he wanted to talk about. Dumbledore's response did not give him much comfort.

"I want to know how it happened. It may help us understand what is happening to Sirius, and how we can help him."

Harry nodded, then hung his head as he gathered his thoughts. This felt very similar to explaining himself the night Voldemort returned. But at least now, he cherished a hope that talking would in some way aid his godfather.

"Kreacher recognized the locket," he began.

Dumbledore interrupted almost immediately to ask, "Kreacher?"

"Sirius's house-elf," Harry clarified, "He said the locket belonged to Sirius's brother, Regulus."

He went on to describe the elf's story. That the locket had really belonged to Lord Voldemort. That he had needed an elf to help him hide it away, only to leave him for dead. That Regulus had called Kreacher back to him. Harry described what had happened to Regulus, using Kreacher's own words, and how the elf had tried and failed to destroy the locket himself.

"Sirius guessed that the locket needed to be opened by parseltongue," Harry said, approaching the end of his story, "He wanted me to help him destroy it…"

He hesitated. It wasn't his guilt that held him back, although he still felt responsible for agreeing to Sirius's reckless plan. Instead, he was thinking about what happened after that. He realized that for the second time, he was about to tell Dumbledore he had seen his parents. But unlike the shades that appeared when his wand connected to Voldemort's, these had been wrong. He needed to find the words to make Dumbledore understand. Whatever was in that locket, it wasn't the same as Priori Incantatem.

"The things they said…" Harry concluded, having struggled through the description of the two shadowy figures, "I don't think my parents would ever say those things. Not to anyone. Especially Sirius."

"A projection of his own guilt perhaps," Dumbledore conjectured, "And a rather clever defense if Voldemort wished to punish anyone who might have stolen the locket. Go on, Harry. What else?"

But Harry didn't know much more. Sirius had not spoken an incantation when he fired his wand at the locket. True, he had managed to destroy it, but what followed… Harry couldn't go on. The moments following Sirius's collapse had been horrible. Crying for help… His throat, raw from screaming… Remus's face when he saw Sirius motionless on the floor. Tonks and Kingsley, taking Sirius out of the house to get him help. Harry's own frantic trip to St. Mungo's. Mrs. Zabini tense and silent by his side…

Dumbledore's gentle voice brought him back to the present.

"You are not to blame, Harry. It was Voldemort who took a rare artifact from Hogwarts' history and used it for his own dark purposes."

"But why?" Harry asked, "What was he protecting it for? What was the locket supposed to do?"

Dumbledore's blue eyes, usually filled with kindness, were hard and flinty as he gazed thoughtfully into space. He considered his words carefully before replying. "I am uncertain. I have my theories of course, but I need more information. There are many things that must be considered…"

Dumbledore rose from his seat, thanking Harry for his time, and announcing his own determination of seeing Sirius for himself before he took his leave. Harry stopped him before he could travel many steps.

"Was the locket a sort of weapon?" Harry asked, his own theories half-formed in his anxious mind, "Or maybe… Maybe it's a piece of what Voldemort is searching for now?"

Dumbledore looked at Harry, his bushy eyebrows raised high above his half-moon spectacles as he repeated, "What Voldemort is searching for now?"

"I know he's been looking for something since he returned," Harry said forcefully, "Some information he didn't have before, right?"

Dumbledore smiled at Harry, though the expression didn't quite reach his eyes. Harry had the impression that he wasn't angry with him, but that this line of questioning would be pushing his luck.

"I'm sure I don't need to remind you that you are not yet in the Order," said the headmaster, "You should not know of such things."

"But I want to join!" Harry insisted, jumping up from his seat to better plead his case, "I faced Voldemort alone! I watched him return!"
"Throwing yourself into danger will not heal Sirius any faster," Dumbledore said quietly. "But if you are really intent on helping the Order, then I would ask you to keep an eye on Draco Malfoy."

Harry stared at him. Of course Dumbledore knew that Draco and his mother were staying at Grimmauld Place, but asking Harry to spy on them?

"Do you think Draco's an informant for Voldemort?" he blurted. The words sounded ridiculous when spoken aloud, even to him.

Predictably, Dumbledore smiled again and said, "No, I don't. But I do feel that Draco is at a critical point in his life. He'll be seeking guidance. You may be able to steer him in the right direction, Harry."

Harry found this possibility very unlikely, but he had no energy left to argue. His stomach was now growling from hours of neglect, and after watching Dumbledore's progress down the ward and out of sight, Harry fell on the table full of snacks with renewed vigor.

"Harry? Harry, wake up."

His stomach full and his adrenaline spent, Harry had finally succumbed to exhaustion. He woke to Remus gently shaking his shoulder, feeling groggy and not at all rested.

"What time is it?" he mumbled, removing his glasses to rub his bloodshot eyes.

"It's late," Remus advised him, "But the healers say he's awake now. I thought you'd want to see him."

Harry was out of his seat before the words had fully left Remus's mouth. He was rushing down the hall before he knew where he was going. Fortunately, Remus was no less eager to be moving, and he had soon caught up to Harry's side, leading the way.

Sirius looked pale and gray, though he was alert and sitting upright in his hospital bed as Remus ushered Harry into the ward. He nervously drew his bedclothes further up his chest as they approached, as if there was something he wished to conceal from them. Harry wondered if it was a new scar from the curse that rebounded, like the one Harry had on his forehead. Harry didn't think Sirius would feel self-conscious over something like that, but perhaps he merely wished to spare Harry further pain by the sight of his injuries.

As if confirming his suspicions, Sirius immediately informed Harry that he wasn't to blame for what happened.

"I'm the one who acted irresponsibly," he said, taking one of Harry's hands in his own, "I should have listened to you when you said to wait for Remus."

"Yes, you should have," Remus interjected in a firm voice, "But what's done is done. I'm just glad that you're both safe."

"Are we sure?" Harry asked, gripping Sirius's hand tighter, "What about… Remus said you might have been cursed?"

Sirius winced and gently drew his hand back, "Yes… It looks as though my recovery will be a little slow. They're still not quite sure what happened. I'll most likely remain here for observation. At least a few more days."

"And Dumbledore? Did he already talk to you?" asked Harry.

Sirius nodded, looking as if he had been properly chastised by the headmaster like a misbehaving schoolboy.

"I'm afraid I wasn't much help to him," he admitted before turning to Remus, "Did you give him the locket?"

"I did," Remus replied, "Or at least what was left of it. All I could find was the metal frame and bits of broken glass, but he said he wanted to look it over…"

Remus trailed off when he noticed that Harry was hanging on his every word. Clearing his throat, he abruptly changed the subject to something he thought would be more cheerful - Harry's return to Hogwarts.

Harry was shocked, Hogwarts being the farthest thing from his mind at that moment.

"I can't go back now!" he argued, "Not with Sirius in the hospital! Please, can't I just stay till you come home?"

Remus and Sirius jointly agreed that Harry would return to school at the same time as his peers, and not a day later. Harry was prepared to argue further, but then he remembered the request that Dumbledore had given him. He'd suggested that Harry keep an eye on Draco. He couldn't very well do that from the waiting room of St. Mungo's Hospital.

Despite what everyone said to his face, Harry knew he'd made a grave error in opening that locket. He was determined to prove that he could serve the Order well. Deciding to take Dumbledore's suggestion as a private mission, he reluctantly agreed with his guardians.