Fall sunlight drenched the Hospital Wing in a golden hue with an occasional cloud interrupting it's warming rays. Along the grounds birds were calling as they swooped in and out of the forbidden forest, playing an exciting game of chase. The sounds of hundreds of students going about their day rang murmuredly up the corridor through the open doors. It was just another beautiful day for them, but for the boy who lay heavily bandaged on a cot towards the end of the room, it was the first day he'd been fully awake since leaving his prison.
Harry lay listening to the familiar, and yet somehow different, noises around him. He'd yet to open his eyes, afraid that when he did he'd find himself back in that dark cellar. His brain had convinced him that this was another torture method that Voldemort was using, raising his hopes of finally being free and then finding himself still imprisoned.
Another cloud passed and sunlight washed over his body presenting him with warmth that he hadn't felt in ages. Grasping for the edge of the cot, he felt cool linen against his fingers. For a minute he allowed himself to hope; he allowed himself to believe he was finally safe. However, the sound of approaching footsteps caused him to flinch, pulling away as he waited for pain to erupt through every nerve in his bruised body. The pain never came though.
Opening his eyes a fraction, the boy peered out into the blinding room. His glasses were gone, but he couldn't mistake the form of Madam Pomfrey standing over his bed side, a tray laden with potions in her hands. She smiled kindly at him, and sitting the tray down on his bed side table she placed a long finger to her lips, motioning to his other side.
Taking his glasses from the table and placing them on his mended, though still slightly crooked, nose, Harry turned to see an elderly man sleeping in a wooden chair. Albus Dumbledore's head rose and fell with each sleeping breath he took, his mouth slightly agape. It was hard to tell how long he had been there, but by the look of it he had hardly left his seat.
Behind him, standing at an open window and staring vacantly across the grounds, was Remus Lupin. His face was free of any signs of damage, and for a fraction of a second Harry thought that his torture had been another image Voldemort had placed in his mind. Had he killed someone for no reason? But then he saw the awkward way the wizard was standing, as if he couldn't bare for his clothes to touch his back.
If Harry thought the sight of the Headmaster would bring him relief, he was greatly mistaken. Resentment built in his chest, driving him to a sitting position. He couldn't handle being in the same room as the man, let alone talk to him if he were to awaken. The small movement was enough to send blinding pain across his chest and back, a yelp escaped his lips.
"Harry." Dumbledore and Lupin were by his side in an instant, assisting Madam Pomfrey in returning him to the mattress. Over powered, Harry fell back into his pillows, gasping for air.
"You're alright, Harry. You're safe." Dumbledore's words were meant to calm him, but instead fury consumed him.
"No thanks to you," Harry breathed, clutching his ribs. He caught Lupin's eye and a disapproving look formed on his face.
Dumbledore looked taken aback for a minute, and sitting back in his chair, eyed Harry solemnly. He looked older than he ever had before. "Harry I owe you an apology. I.."
" Save it," said Harry, eyes moving to his hands clenched tightly in his lap. "I don't need your apologies. "
Madam Pomfrey, who was now pouring water into a crystal goblet, made a reproachful noise. "I don't think that is any way to talk to the Headmaster," she began hotly, but Dumbledore quickly raised a withered hand.
"If you do not mind Poppy, could we have a few minutes alone." Dumbledore gave her a small, encouraging smile.
She stared at him for a long minute, apparently surprised at being thrown from her own ward. Huffing, she turned on her heal and stormed back towards her office, muttering nonstop about disrespectful teenagers.
With the sound of her door snapping shut, Dumbledore returned his attention back to Harry. "You may not want my apology, Harry, but you will receive it." His voice was calm, but there was a finality in his tone that made Harry swallow the rebuttal that was fighting to lash out.
The mattresss gave a groan and sank slightly with Remus's weight as he perched himself on it's edge, placing a hand on Harry's shin. It's weight, meant to be reassuring, was a constant reminder of Lupin's presence and of the guilt Harry felt for involving him in this. He had to stop himself from pulling away, knowing it would look suspicious.
"I am willing to explain my actions over this past year, but first I must ask something very difficult of you." Dumbledore's blue eyes were fixed, unwavering, on Harry. The boy secretly wished the Headmaster would avoid his eye again, unable to stomach the pity that was pouring out of the blue depths.
"You want me to tell you what happened," Harry said, his voice barely above a whisper as he talked to the the white blankets, unable to look up. He could feel both wizards staring at him now, waiting apprehensiveness.
Closing his eyes, a wave of emotions drowned out the rebellion that was so adamantly trying to refuse. A lump formed in his throat and he couldn't help but shake his head, his long black hair waving.
There was a screech of wood on stone and a hand gripped his shoulder. Harry tried to shrug it off but the hold tightened. "Harry I know it is not easy," said Dumbledore, his voice soft and full of empathy. "But, I can not express the importance of knowing what you went through."
"What you put me through." The correction came through gritted teeth, thick with a forced calm.
Dumbledore dropped his hand and opened his mouth to speak, but Harry quickly cut him off. Despite his disdain, he knew that the only way he would be rid of the Headmaster would be to give him what he desired. "After we left the ministry, he took me to his father's old manor."
Harry recounted the past months in a hollow tone, his eyes never leaving his blankets. However, when he reached the part of Lucius's torture methods, he wavered. Throat tight, he fought to find the right words to keep from stopping. He knew that if he was interrupted it would be nearly impossible to continue. Thankfully, Remus's tightening grip was the only reaction he noticed. A red rush coloured his pale cheeks, but he pressed on.
Silence, like nothing he'd ever heard before surrounded his words. It was as if someone had hit the mute button on the world around him. Even the birds had stopped their beautiful singing, waiting anxiously for every detail Harry's story held.
The part he'd been dreading came more quickly than he'd anticipated. What would Dumbledore think of him once he learned of the man he'd murdered? Would he understand the circumstances?
A voice came, clear and calm in his mind "Don't mention the werewolf."
Harry's heart skipped a beat. Voldemort was listening and now he couldn't include Lupin's torture. How was he supposed to explain everything without Remus in the story? Without him it would look like Harry had killed that man with little constrain.
"I…they…" His first stumble. Taking in deep breaths, he brought his eyes up to find Remus's. The encouragement to continue was there, but Harry knew how the story would paint him. Shaking his head, he closed his eyes and willed his voice to be steady. "They brought out a man, a muggle, from the village. They made me kill him."
Opening his eyes, he saw the sympathetic look on Lupin's face. Apparently he was already aware of the revisions Harry was being forced to make. Rolling his eyes to the ceiling, he studied the high pitched rafters blinking off off a wave of tears that clouded his vision.
"How did they force you exactly?" Dumbledore's spoke for the first time throughout the whole story, his voice holding some confusion.
"I… the crutiatus curse" Harry replied a little taken aback. He hadn't thought Dumbledore would question him. "He also threatened to torture one of my friends to death." It was the truth, cleverly hidden by lack of of details.
"How was he to accomplish that when they were here, at Hogwarts?"
Blinking several times, Harry felt his eyebrows furrow into a incredulous frown. Was Dumbledore blaming him? Setting his jaw, he lowered his gaze to meet Dumbledore's. "Are…"
"Albus, surely you aren't blaming Harry for something he had no control over?" The contempt Lupin's question held was masked by curiosity, but only slightly.
Dumbledore waved a dismissing hand and shifted in his seat, the wood creaking loudly. "No, of course not. I merely wondered if Voldemort had a way of entering Hogwarts that we were unaware of." He paused here as if pondering these words, before turning an apologetic expression to Harry. "There was nothing you could have done differently, Harry. Many older wizards would have consented to much worse under far lesser threats."
Harry felt little reassurance from these empty, meaningless words. It was like something a habitual lier would say when caught in the act. Aggravated, he resumed looking at the ceiling, trying to find a foothold to continue. He had lost the momentum.
"The rest is pretty straight forward. I was strangled, whipped and then escaped" he said with a shrug that sent a wave of heat over his back.
"How exactly did you escape?" asked Dumbledore.
"Nothing special," Harry began, buying some time to build his story. "A Death Eater delivered some food and I started coughing; acting like I couldn't breathe. When he started unlocking the door I hid along the wall and slipped out when he came in."
"And your wand?" Dumbledore motioned to the dark wood sitting on the table among the potion bottles. "How did you regain possession of it?"
Harry hadn't noticed it before, but the sight of the holly wood brought a pang of panic. "It was on a table. I though Voldemort would have destroyed it, but thankfully he didn't. I used it to apparate once I got far enough out." His tone was steady but he could see so many holes in the story. Apparate? A fifteen year old, or was he sixteen now? Either way, he'd only seen it done a handful of times. He prayed Dumbledore would not ask him how he'd accomplished it.
A silence fell at the end of Harry's story, the weight it carried tangible. Harry chanced a glance at Lupin who he found staring at him. The lines along his face pulled upwards in a small smile that didn't quite reach his glistening eyes. He nodded slightly and Harry felt a bit of warmth wash over his icy organs.
Dumbledore heaved a weary sigh, and placed his wrinkled face into his hands. It was then Harry noticed the black, rotten extremity. He bit back the question that rose to his lips, wanting more than anything for Dumbledore to leave the hospital wing.
"The Ministry also wants your testimony," he said, finally breaking the silence. He let his hand fall to his lap and gave a small smile. "Not until you are better though. Your focus should be on taking your potions regularly and healing. Madam Pomfrey would recommend no visitors, but if you wish the Weasley's and Ms. Granger are all anxious to see you."
A snake coiled in the pit of his stomach. Part of him wanted so desperately to see them, to quiet his fears and theirs, but the other part wanted nothing more than to curl up on his mattress and be alone with his thoughts. Deep down he knew that seeing them put them at risk, even more so now that Voldemort was able to see everything he saw, feel everything he felt. A trickle of satisfaction, that had nothing to do with his own emotions, mixed in with his worry.
"I'd like to wait," he said hesitantly, unwilling to meet either of the gazes. As soon as the words had left his lips boiling guilt spread over him. His friends had worried about him for months, grieved about his likely death, and he wasn't even willing to give them a second.
Dumbledore studied him for a minute, lips parted on the the verge of speaking, but he merely nodded before rising to his feet. " When Madam Pomfrey deems you ready, we will travel to the Ministry together. I fear they will not be patient."
"And if I refuse?" Harry asked with simple curiosity. He had not intention of declining, but part of him wondered what they could possibly do to him. Would they send someone to collect him? Would he be hauled in like some criminal?
The Headmaster smiled a knowing smile, and raised his wispy eyebrows. "If there is one thing I have learned over my many years, it's best to do exactly what the ministry wants you to do." A small twinkle shown behind those half moon glasses, and he touched the side of his crooked nose before moving to the door. "If there is anything you need, Harry, please feel free to ask." And with that he was gone, the double doors falling heavily back into place.
Remus shifted on the end of the cot, and Harry watched as a grimace formed on his face. "Harry," he began, but the sound of Madam Pomfrey's door opening cut off his sentence. His eyes closed in aggravation as the nurse returned, still grumbling, and began to hand Harry his first of several potions.
"I'm afraid you will have to leave now, Mr. Lupin," she said briskly, mixing the next set of vials into a large goblet. "These potions will make him very drowsy, and he needs the rest."
Remus forced an understanding smile, and nodded. "Of course," he said, standing awkwardly. Turning to Harry, he paused, apparently choosing his next words carefully. "We'll get through this together, I promise." The words were simple enough, but Harry knew exactly what they meant. Lupin was the only person he could trust now, and the only person that knew that his trials were far from over.