Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter
...
Harry's eyes fluttered open slowly, no splitting headache or migraine from the result of a traumatic nightmare. Even though he had fallen unconscious he hadn't felt so rested in a long time. Lifting up his hand to rub at his eyes he did his best to make out his surroundings, however with his poor eyesight everything looked little more than a blur.
"You're awake, Mister Potter," said a stern voice frightening Harry something chronic as a brown haze moved into his line of sight. "Your glasses are on the bedside cabinet if that's what you're looking for."
With his gaze still on the blur, Harry fumbled for his glasses, his fingers finally gripping hold of the wire frame held together with the finest tape he could steal. Placing the glasses on his face and allowing his vision to come full focus he took the opportunity to look around, finding himself in an almost painfully white setting with curtains on either side of him. It didn't take him long to realize this was the infirmary, he'd spent enough time in them over the years. Or at least spent as much time in there as minimally required before being tossed out by the school nurse.
"How are you feeling?" asked the resident healer.
"Fine," said Harry as he swung his legs out from underneath the covers and got ready to leave.
"And where do you think you're going?"
"Umm...well I thought..."
"Back on the bed, now," commanded the nurse, Harry immediately obeying her order. "You've been out for nearly three days now."
"Three days?" repeated Harry in disbelief, no wonder he felt well rested.
"Your body was exhausted and your mind even more so, tell me, how many days has it been since you've had a solid night's sleep?"
"..."
"That tell's me all I needed to know," said the nurse as she began rummaging through some drawers before pulling out a couple of potions. "I'm going to have you stay another night Mister Potter, other than you're terrible sleeping situation you are also dreadfully malnourished, bones as fragile as glass and a magical core as feeble as a mermaid out of water. I'm going to have to have you come to my office on a weekly basis so we can administer a proper ongoing treatment over the coming months which will get you back on track."
"...Thank you," said Harry, the words sounding foreign coming out of his mouth as if it were the first time he was saying it. This didn't go unnoticed by Madam Pomfrey in the slightest.
"The thing, Mister Potter, that is most important however is that you are clear and precise in both your intentions and your actions," said Poppy. "It is plain as day that you have had a rough upbringing and I fear that may be the greatest understatement I have ever made. I feel as if you desperately wish to make friends but are afraid of rejection. As hard as this is to say, and likely more difficult to hear, you will have trouble at this school because of your...condition. Many of the students hear have heard of your name well before you knew what it meant to be Harry Potter and you have shattered each and every one of their expectations. Those who come from Pure Blooded families who had received news that you would be attending this school had likely been instructed by their parents to befriend you for the sole purpose of getting close to your name."
"My name? You don't mean Harry Potter do you."
It wasn't a question.
"Correct; to the Wizarding World, before you are the boy named Harry Potter you are the hero proclaimed as 'The Boy Who Lived.' You, who has had minimal interactions with the people known as 'friends' will have to actually figure out just who wishes a friendship with you to be genuine. Those who are not simply wish to abuse your name, your money and your power. Do you understand?"
"I do," said Harry calmly.
"You're taking this awful well for an eleven year old," said Poppy crossing her arms.
"I've come to tolerate the belief that I would always be alone," said Harry as he pulled his knees into his chest. "I would be ignored forever at school and those who did talk to me would do so out of pity. I never wanted a friendship to be based on pity, so I don't think that I would want one where I'm being used. I grew up much faster than those around me and had nobody to rely on but myself. I don't think that'll change anytime soon."
"Good, last thing we need is for some upended bureaucrat to get their claws into you. If you were to start looking for a friend I wish you well, but do your best not to be drawn into a trap. I don't want to see you in one of my bed's because you were to gullible or were trying to impress 'the boys.'"
"I've seen what boys do to impress each other, that's not me," declared Harry flatly as he pushed himself off of the bed, struggling momentarily and almost falling before managing to right himself.
"Relying on pretend strength, both physically and mentally will do you no good in the long run," said Poppy as she let out a heavy sigh. "I am going to request of you that you remain here for another few nights, Harry, I feel that there is something we must accomplish together before you go out in public once more."
Harry, at first didn't like the idea of remaining in the Hospital Wing for the foreseeable future but so far the school nurse had been the only person in memory who had actually taken the time to listen to what he was saying, even if most of what he had said was nothing more than bravado. He wasn't sure what this feeling was but from what he'd read he believed it was something akin to gratitude….perhaps.
...
Poppy returned to her office and pondered just what the best treatment she should administer for the boy's mental state. It was clear from his bravado earlier that he was used to relying on himself and himself alone; judging by his physical state she figured that that included patching himself up after injury.
She hadn't gone into full details with the child regarding the worst of his condition, she felt as if he already knew. His rather calm acceptance when she had said that some would likely try to befriend him to use him had been unsettling. She hypothesized that he had been fooled at least once into trusting someone only to have it thrown back in his face.
Reaching for a book off her shelf, she skimmed through the table of contents before turning towards the appropriate page and wondering whether this would likely be the right course of action. She would request of Professor Flitwick to take Harry in as a dueling apprentice. She had little doubt that the boy would find himself on the end of more than a single villainous attack, having been working in this infirmary for decades now had taught her more than enough about how children react. As much as she hated saying it, Harry would be a target until the day he graduated, probably even for the rest of his life.
Hopefully the Charms Professor would see her reasoning and agree to teach Harry how to defend himself. There was always fear when contemplating such a thing, giving a single child strength and spells that they weren't meant to be aware of for years to come, but Poppy instinctively knew that Harry wasn't the vindictive type and wouldn't actively seek out to injure his peers.
What she was looking at to help him outside of standard spellcraft and wizardry was not the wisest thing she would ever suggest to an eleven-year-old child. Drastic times did call for desperate measures however, and she would not allow such an innocent boy to give up on the thought of a happy life just yet. There had been the slightest fire in his words, just enough to assure her that this path may just be the path to his salvation.
Closing the book, she exited the office and returned to Harry's bedside, the child sitting with his back to her as he stared out the window at a flock of sparrows dancing in the breeze. Poppy felt that the boy needed an out, somewhere that he could go where only those he truly trusted would be able to visit, provided he ever opened himself up fully to trust anyone.
"There is one course of action I'd like you to look at," said Poppy as she laid the book down on the mattress. "Your thoughts are some of your biggest crutches, your emotions will likely unbalance you in almost every situation. Your mind is, unfortunately, a weapon that can be used against you. Any snide remark or unfriendly comment could be disastrous now that you effectively carry a tool that can be used for violence on you at all times. While this is unorthodox in every healing method I have ever come across I feel it is a necessity for you to survive in Hogwarts."
"What is it?" asked Harry as he turned around to face the nurse, a touch of hope in his eyes reassuring Poppy that the boy hadn't given up hope just yet.
"Occlumency."
...
Dumbledore calmly meandered through the empty hallowed halls minutes before classes finished for the day. A little over a week had passed since that dreadful incident regarding young Mister Potter and he had yet to surface from the solitary confinement that Poppy had erected around him. On more than one occasion he had tried to gain access into the nurse's area but the resident Healer had forbidden him from even stepping foot inside of her ward. He couldn't help but admire her tenacity on the subject, even if it was grating on his nerves.
Nevertheless, he opted to abide by Madam Pomfrey's wishes and allow her to work in solitude in order to bring Harry back to the physical peak expected of an eleven year old child. He knew however that the treatment young Harry would have to undergo would be monstrous in length, months upon months of remedial potions to get his body up to scratch.
Humming a merry tune, Albus watched as the door leading to the History of Magic classroom opened, allowing the rabble of schoolchildren previously trapped inside with the undead teacher to escape. Having worked with the ghost for some decades now the Headmaster was well aware of the teacher's tendencies to, for lack of a better word, dribble on.
A number of greetings came his way from the young first year students and he returned them in kind. So many young children of various backgrounds all looking up to him as the outstanding wizard that he was. Before all of his achievements he was the head of the school and as such it was his duty to mold and groom their young minds to a standard befitting the magical world. The Ministry believed in his system and other than a once-a-year check up (which primarily consisted of him and both the Minister of Magic and the Head of the Education Department sharing a cup of tea and or brandy, depending on the day) he had little to worry about in regards to interference of his work. The only real nuisances he faced came in the form of Lucius Malfoy doing his best to manipulate the Hogwarts Board into passing miniscule rules and regulations which would profit those who paid him the most.
He was well aware of the former Death Eater's ability, both in raw power and his tongue. Albus sincerely doubted the possibility that Lucius had been under the Imperius Curse when he had been working side by side with Voldemort. He was a true snake through and through. Now though he was rubbing shoulders with Cornelius Fudge and no doubt slowly filling the Minister's pockets with more and more gold in order to gain more power. To what end and purpose however was difficult to tell.
Returning to the present, Albus suppressed a scowl as he realized he hadn't spotted the trademark ginger hair that was common for Gryffindor students these days. Entering the classroom, Albus found the young boy he was searching for with his head still upon his desk, having been lulled to sleep by Professor Binns' monotonous speech. Striding forward, a small flick of his wand sent a casual stinging hex at the back of Ron Weasley's head, the small jab of magic enough to snap the boy out of his slumber.
"What the bloody hell?" he cursed as his dream for flying with the Chudley Cannons was shattered.
"Language, Mister Weasley," Albus lightly scolded, Ron standing at attention immediately, realizing just who was addressing him.
"Professor Dumbledore...I was just, umm..."
"It is quite alright, Mister Weasley, you are not the first student to have fallen asleep in one of Professor Binns' lectures and I sincerely doubt that you will be the last," said Albus with a smile. "If you've got a spare minute or two may I ask that you take whatever lecture notes you may have taken before your slumber and share them with young Mister Potter. He has yet to be released from the Hospital Wing and it would be terribly unfortunate for him were he to be caught behind in all of his subjects."
"Ah, yes...of course, my notes," stumbled Ron as Albus walked around his desk to discover that the ink had yet to touch the parchment in regards to Ron's note taking ability.
Biting at his inner lip, Albus turned his direction to the ghost still shambling around in the room. "Professor Binns, young Ronald here seems to have misplaced his notes from today's lecture and he is more than willing to listen to your lesson again in order to ensure he get's the most out of the criteria."
"I am?" said Ron in confusion.
"I believe I can do that," said Professor Binns.
"Be a good boy now Mister Weasley, I'm counting on you," said Dumbledore as he left the ginger-haired child to his torture.
...
Hermione stood at the end of the hallway, a satchel full of notes by her side and a conundrum on her hands. Since the Sorting Feast the question on everyone's lips was in regards to what had happened to Harry Potter. She didn't blame them by any means; the equivalent of a movie star had wandered into the room only to sprint out moments later.
Rumours lurked everywhere. One of the strangest was that he'd had the sudden urge to go to the bathroom, but had lost his way in the corridors. After this particular piece of stupidity got a chance to stew in, it gave way to even more ridiculousness, students claiming that he could now only roam the halls at night, swallowed by the dark forces of the castle.. Other rumours basically stated that he had found himself on the forbidden third floor and the singular reason why students were prohibited from going there had claimed his life.
Hermione believed in something a lot more sensible than that and it was she now found herself near the Hospital Wing. Arguably this was a place where all students dreaded coming as it meant that something terrible had happened to them at some point. If Harry was somewhere after having injured himself and was resting and recuperating, this would be the place.
The main problem though was that she had no guarantee that her assumption was correct. Last thing she wanted to do was disturb the nurse on duty only to find that she was wrong about the whole situation. Her motives may have been pure but she needed to go about this in a different manner. She needed a legitimate reason to go into the nurse's office. With no offensive spells under her belt as of the moment, she turned to face the wall knowing full well that this was going to hurt a lot more than what she imagined.
...
"So, tell me Miss Granger, just how did you break your wrist?" inquired Madam Pomfrey as she sat on her stool, the crying child in front of her.
"I...fell," said Hermione in between sobs. Tears had long since stained her cheeks and she looked like an absolute wreck. She had only meant to bruise her knuckles but had put in much more force than she had intended.
Poppy scowled but could not really say anything in regards to the crying girl. It was obvious that she was lying but whether she was trying to protect someone or whatever other reason she couldn't well pry from her. Accidents did happen after all and this might just have been a single example of what could unexpectedly happen. "Very well then, take a seat on the bed while I get the appropriate potions," ordered Poppy, indicating the closest bed.
Doing her best to settle her tears, Hermione made her way to the hospital bed and took a seat, still cradling her injured wrist. Even though this wasn't quite what she had planned it had still gotten the desired response. Rolling her head she rubbed her cheeks on her shoulders, her school robes absorbing some of the moisture on her skin.
Thankfully her pain was soon alleviated as Madam Pomfrey returned from her office and conjured a sling for Hermione before handing her a potion. It tasted something foul but had the wonderful ability to ensure that the young Gryffindor no longer felt any pain from her injury. Unfortunately it didn't block out her sense of taste as she swallowed the next dosage which was to slowly heal the bones.
"You're going to have to stay here overnight," stated Poppy. "Thankfully you're my only patient at the moment so you have the whole ward to yourself."
"Only patient?" repeated Hermione.
"You sound surprised, were you hoping to find someone on their deathbed after just a week of school," said Poppy before striding away, Hermione slowly realizing that this entire endeavour was a fruitless expedition.
...
Filius looked at his new protege, Poppy having informed him earlier of the situation that was likely to arise with young Harry. He himself had been the subject of much loathing and discrimination as a result of the heritage he was proud of. Having been the butt of many jokes over his years he could only imagine what was likely to happen to the scar-riddled boy.
"Now, Harry, you and I are going to be spending a lot of time together, I hear," he said, Harry nodding in understanding. "You were raised a Muggle and as such you do not have the advantage of having some sort of pre-recognized training under your belt, meaning we will have to start with the basics. Remember though that what I teach you in these lessons are only to be used in the case of self-defence, otherwise I will cancel these sessions immediately."
"Yes, sir," said Harry with an air of determination around him.
Professor Flitwick gauged Harry carefully, the aura currently encircling him telling Filius what he needed to know. This wasn't a child who was going to abuse this knowledge for his own gain. This was a boy of eleven who had suffered so much more than what any other child should have. This was someone whom he could trust to use the knowledge given to him for no personal gain.
"Considering the studies you have to catch up with already along with your assignments and whatnot these classes are going to be teaching you how to run before you can crawl. The first spell I will be teaching is Protego, the shield charm. Casting this charm will drain you of your stamina but will protect you from most injury inducing attacks," explained Professor Flitwick.
"So I'm learning to defend before I can attack, because I won't be able to go on the offense without first being able to go on the defence," said Harry.
"In some situations, yes," said Filius. "So long as you can prevent harm from coming to you half the battle has already been won. There are many variations of Protego and many of which will likely still be created depending on the circumstance that arrives."
"Why so many versions?" asked Harry.
"The initial Protego requires a circular motion with your arm, a hand movement which is all too easy to spot and sometimes too slow for what is needed. On my way through the dueling circuit I once came across a man who was able to form smaller shields with nothing but a swirl of his finger and would cast the miniscule defences right in the path of the spells coming his way. No flashy movement, no long incantation, pinpoint precision and concentration was how he won his battles. Let me tell you now Harry, that was not an easy opponent to best," said Filius with a chuckle.
The next several minutes were spent as Filius demonstrated the correct arm movements for the shield charm, ensuring that there were no flaws in Harry's technique. "Alright, now Harry, remember how I told you earlier that we were going to make you run before you walk? It's time to make you sprint!"
"What?" asked Harry before he felt himself blown backwards off his feet, skidding across the polished floor. Pushing himself to his hands and knees, he clutched his wand tightly as he looked up at the former dueling champion.
"Perhaps I should have warned you, Harry, but I don't know how to go easy on an opponent!"
…