Disclaimer: I do not own anything from Harry Potter.

Chapter 3

Golden rays of warm light spilled into the hospital wing from the windows. Undeviating sunshafts illuminated minute dust particles floating carelessly in the air as the faint cry of a rooster broke the tranquil silence, heralding the start to a new day.

Harry was already up long before that, as he had went straight to sleep after his brief conversation with the Mediwitch the day before.

Still dressed in a hospital gown, he got up early and had been stealthily sneaking about the hospital wing looking for newspapers, books, and other sundries that could give him a clue as to what was happening in the current world, keeping an ever watchful eye on the door for the presence of Poppy, as he knew of her legendary tendencies to keep patients confined to their beds while they were still convalescent.

At least my footsteps are much quieter now.

Small feet covered in striped blue socks padded soundlessly across the cold stone floor as he climbed back onto his bed, a hoard of crinkled newspapers stacked tightly under his arm as he set them down on the desk beside him. He pulled the first one towards him and began to skim through it.

Just as he was just about to flip through the pages, a noise that resembled the shuffling of feet outside the room caused him to hastily stow the purloined newspapers into the top drawer of the same desk, crumpling and squashing them together in a disorderly manner.

The brown and sturdy wooden doors creaked open slowly as a wary face peeked into the hospital wing. Cool blue eyes surveyed the room until they rested on Harry, who was wide awake. Something akin to relief flooded through those eyes as Madam Pomfrey opened the doors fully and walked in with a bag containing another batch of potions.

"Good morning Ariana, you're just in time for your potions," Poppy pleasantly greeted as she unfastened the hatch from the top of a grey cubed shaped satchel that was hanging from her side. She brought out the same potions as the ones he previously had and lined them up in a specific order for Harry on a wooden tray.

Harry couldn't help but make a face at the sudden presence of the potions this early in the morning. Poppy must have sensed something as she gave a small smile.

"I know they don't taste very nice, but I promise they will help you," she gently encouraged, popping the cork out of the first potion in the queue and she handed it to Harry.

"After you're done with them, you can have some breakfast that had been prepared for you," she continued as she put a transparent salver down next to Harry, making his mouth water as on it laid steaming buttery toast accompanied by a glass of warm milk.

With mild aversion, he started to imbibe the potions as preordained by the matron. Just as he picked up the last potion, he noticed that it was a Pepper-Up Potion. He eyed the perfectly brewed potion with appreciation and felt the warmth flood across his body after swallowing the liquid, the deep taste of ginger lingering in his mouth.

With purpose in mind, he decided that it would be a useful potion to know to how brew.

I'll just ask Hermione for help later. He instinctively thought as he picked up and daintily munched down on warm and crumbly toast.

He froze.

It was as if a dam had burst in the dusty recesses of his mind, inundating his senses and overloading them with a rush of flashing images and sounds.

With wide eyes, he screamed as memories he had unconsciously repressed assaulted him and rushed through his head with terrifying speed, the half-eaten piece of toast falling out of his stiff hands.

Ron, Hermione, Albus, Sirius, Mom, Dad… everyone I have ever cared for is gone.

Feeling utterly alone for the first time in a long time, his vision flickered as his breath grew shaky and his fists clenched tightly. He felt his magic stir within him, like a ravenous wild beast waiting to feast on succulent prey.

Trembling, he tried to pull his magic back to his core, but gasped when he felt it slip out of his control and surge out of him.

Poppy was blasted several metres back to the floor as the first wave of uncontrollable white magic erupted from him. The beds in the hospital wing started vibrating back and forth, akin to a rattle being shaken ferociously by a baby. Windows, vials and mirrors all shattered into thousands of pieces simultaneously as another wave of magic emanated from him and blasted through the hospital wing. The area was just on the verge of destruction as the hospital doors blasted open and figure pointed a wand at Harry.

A familiar voice roared above the cacophony of creaks and groans that every object in the room seemed to emit.

"TELLUS MOTUS!"

A bright beam of orange rushed towards Harry and hit him dead centre on the chest, reaching deep within him. Every sound ceased as the levitating objects froze in place in the air. After a second, as one, all the debris fell down after their brief suspension to the floor of the hospital wing with a reverberating crash.

Harry felt his magic unwillingly retreat back to his core, forcefully funnelled by the new unknown spell that had been cast on him.

Ignoring the debris coating him, his heart thundered like a drum in his ears as he leapt off his bed and immediately scrambled towards the downed figure of Poppy, ignoring the presence of the person who had saved the day.

Tears dripped down his pretty face as he scrunched it up in misery. He dropped to his knees to hold her motionless head as it lolled in his hands, knowing that once again he was responsible for hurting another person. His saviour approached slowly from behind as the crunching sound of feet drew closer.

"Move aside child," A soft voice behind him lightly commanded.

Recognizing the voice, Harry sniffled as he slowly disengaged himself and crawled back from the Mediwitch. He watched as a younger Albus Dumbledore knelt down and murmured an incantation he could not recognize while waving his wand in a convoluted manner.

What is happening to me? Why can't I control my magic or emotions?

"Madam Pomfrey… is she..?" Harry whispered in dread, adrenaline still running high even after Albus had finished waving his wand.

"First, let me see your legs," Albus said is a no-nonsense tone as he glanced with concern towards Harry's thin legs.

He looked down and sucked in air rapidly and blanched at the sight. The path from his bed to the Mediwitch was covered in blood as he hasn't noticed that shards of glass that once littered the floor were now lodged in his legs and feet.

As the adrenaline was wearing off, he almost felt the pain hit but not before a powerful voice had chanted.

"Episkey Maximus!"

Harry refused to wince as he clenched his teeth in pain, the powerful healing spell pushing the shards of glass out of his body and sealing the wounds as they all finally exited his body, the fragments tinkling like a broken xylophone as they hit the floor.

He breathed lightheadedly as the world seemed spin around him for a brief period. After steadying his breath to calm down, he looked at Albus expectantly, with large green eyes in supplication.

Albus looked at the trembling young girl before him, his sky blue eyes clashing with emerald green eyes that were filled with so much compassion and guilt.

"She's only unconscious. Once she wakes up, she should be totally fine."

Harry exhaled noisily in relief and gave a brief smile of elation.

Immediately after calming his nerves, he fired off another question.

"What was that spell?"

"That was a more powerful version of the spell Episkey, a spell that heals minor wounds."

Harry visibly swallowed as he nervously and unconsciously played with his long black hair, "No… I meant the first one."

A shadow crossed Albus' face for a fraction of a second before answering quietly. "It is one of my own creations. I had to invent due to… certain circumstances in my youth. It is a spell that I have told no one about, due to the fear that it might be abused if wielded in the hands of someone who means to do harm. It is a spell that temporarily nullifies the natural flow of magic and forces it back into the magical core. A powerful witch or wizard with a larger magical core may fight against this this but a lesser one can do nothing against it."

Harry's brow furrowed and a frown appeared on his red lips as he absorbed the information. With foreboding, he twisted his head look around at the once pristine hospital.

Remnants of the once immaculate and white curtains that framed the windows lay shredded and strewn across the room in a haphazard manner under debris, like the torn sail of a sinking ship. Wooden chairs, tables, armoires and desks were scattered on the floor of the hospital wing, each one broken, splintered and abused from the intense magic that manhandled it, as the potions they once housed coated the walls and floor with a shimmering mess.

As Harry looked down, he twitched as he realized the entire hospital wing was covered in the vestigial traces of the windows, glasses and mirrors that once gave character to the room.

Harry turned to Albus, who was silently watching him.

"What is happening to me?" Harry finally cried out, his high voice quavering with emotion.

"After your recent injuries, it seems that outbursts of intense emotion are tied to your magic as powerful and destructive bouts of accidental magic," Albus concluded as he stood up, using a wrinkled hand to dust himself clean as he held his wand in the other.

Once he got the majority of the dust off his robes, he silently cast a quick Wingardium Leviosa spell on Madam Pomfrey as he looked calmly at Harry.

"My apologies for not introducing myself sooner. I am Professor Albus Dumbledore, Headmaster of the Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizarding, of which you are now recuperating in."

"That being said, may I know your name my dear?" He continued.

Harry bit his lip and looked away as he stammered, "A-Ariana."

Dumbledore was caught completely off guard and gave a start as he almost lost concentration on the levitational spell on Poppy. As he looked at Harry with eyes that seemed to be full of self-loathing, the fleeting emotion in his face disappeared as quickly as it came.

Not knowing why name he gave Albus distressed him and unable to lie to someone whom he truly cared about, he blurted out, "I promise I will tell you everything once I have recovered."

Curiously, Albus used legilimency to prod only the surface of Harry's mind and found only love and trust towards him.

Surprised, he jerked back and looked as the eyes of the child before him, seeing only earnestness.

Shaken and bemused, Albus nodded in acceptence while looking around the ruined room. "Very well, but let's clean this place up first," only now noticing how powerful the magic that destroyed the hospital wing had been.


It had only been a few hours since the destruction occurred, but the protean nature of magic was not to be underestimated as it had cleaned up all the mess by that time the regal grandfather clock in the hospital wing hit noon. Everything was set back in their rightful positions, bar the potions that had been destroyed as they had been vanished using the convenient cleaning spell Scourgify.

Poppy had woken up just moments before the hospital wing was repaired and had a glimpse of what her young charge was capable of. The second she woke up, Harry, who had been waiting by her bedside, had launched into grief-stricken pleas for forgiveness.

Poppy would have none of Harry's tearful apologies and waved it off and told him she chalked it up as one the many hazards in the healing profession. It took a while for her conciliatory approach to console the expressive young girl, but she accomplished it in the end.

Thoroughly mellowed, Harry meandered back to his fully repaired bed with tenseness in his shoulders. As he lay his head down onto a lumpy pillow and stared blankly at the stone ceiling, he began musing.

If this is 1976, then Lily and the Marauders should be in their sixth year when school starts up again in a few weeks.

Harry chewed his lip in disquietude, knowing that even though he loved them unconditionally - minus Wormtail, the feeling would not be mutual since they did not even know of his existence.

Whatever the future holds, I will protect all of them, he vowed. Not just them, but everyone in the Wizarding World whom I have failed before.

As his mind wandered off at a tangent, he considered the power of his knowledge of the future.

What should I tell Albus, everything?

Using a Muggle phrase Harry had once heard, 'speak of the devil' was an apposite response as Albus, with a slight spring in his step, entered the hospital wing as he strode towards Harry with a sense of purpose in his demeanour. In his hands he was carrying a silver bracelet that seemed plain and dull at first glance, but as it drew closer, Harry could sense substantial power radiating from it.

Albus' lips curved into an amiable smile as he reached Harry, forgoing a greeting as he launched straight into an informative discourse.

"The effects of my spell are going to wear off soon; you will need to wear this bracelet instead. It was originally used as punishment for magical criminals centuries ago as it blocked their ability to wield magic, but nowadays this item is considered dark by the Ministry and is therefore banned. However, I have a modified one that only absorbs magic when it reaches a certain threshold, such as accidental magic," Albus announced, still standing, as held out his hand for Harry to take it.

Harry gladly took it from Albus and slowly put it on his left wrist as he rubbed a thumb over it, feeling the indent of an inscription carved on it.

"For how long, Professor?"

"I do not know… Ariana," he answered with hesitation as the he uttered Harry's self-imposed name, "Maybe until your magical core stops growing, or maybe even tomorrow."

As Harry held up the bracelet more closely to his face, he squinted and saw the faint inscription that spelt out a name in cursive.

Ariana.

Quizzically, he turned back to face Albus with an incredulous look.

"Professor, you engraved my name onto this bracelet?"

The twinkle in his sky blue eyes faded away as once again the look of self-loathing returned. Albus desperately wanted to change the subject, but as he looked into the eyes of young Harry, the amount of trust he saw in them inexplicably gave him a feeling that could entrust this young girl with his life.

Albus gave a heaving sigh and nonverbally conjured a chair for him to sit. He brought his chair close as he tucked himself right up against Harry's bed with both hands on his head as he collected his thoughts.

"Ariana was the name of my younger sister," Albus started emphatically, with a faint shimmer in his eyes as he raised his head, "When she was six, she suffered a cruel attack that left her without the control of her magical abilities. When she was fourteen, an accidental outburst of magic tragically killed our mother. She died not long after... if only I had finished this bracelet sooner she could have…" Albus faintly trailed off as he refused to finish his narrative.

Harry felt unclean and absolutely disgusted with himself, falsely wearing a name that meant so much to someone so lightly. Squirming, he tried to comfort Albus by say that wasn't his real name, but somehow his tongue wouldn't let him no matter how hard he tried.

Albus did not seem to notice the internal struggle Harry was facing.

"This bracelet was meant for her, and now… meant for you, as if fate herself has dictated it," Albus continued as he put one hand on Harry's and squeezed gently before releasing.

Harry flinched when he heard the word fate.

Albus ignored the curious gesture and decided it was time to stop avoiding the question he and Poppy had been burning to ask for the past day. He sat up straight and gave Harry a serious look as he opened his mouth to ask just a single terse question.

"Who did this to you?"

Harry made a choking sound in the back of his throat as he instinctively clutched the blanket around him and he tried to cover himself.

Albus gently grasped the blanket from Harry and slowly lowered it as he murmured reassuringly, "You don't have to say anything, but we need to know who did this," as he looked straight into Harry's terror-stricken eyes.

Giving Harry a mental push, he used legilimency once more, but this time he dug deeper to get the scene he wanted. For some reason he saw mostly few cloudy images, but he distinctly saw two unfamiliar faces in a dark room that looked both voracious and demented at the same time, both with want in their eyes at a crumpled figure.

"They took potions that let them stay up for days on end, sleep was something I never had when I was there," Harry started, his voice dead and his hands trembling as he hugged his chest; magic deep within him stirring ominously.

Poppy was nearby at a desk seemingly going through some files but unbeknownst to Harry, she was listening attentively from the way her knuckles were turning white as she was gripping the file.

Harry whimpered in relief as the healing spells weaved through his lacerated legs, the steady flow of warm blood coming to a halt as it sealed the numerous remnants of trauma on his lifeless legs. He struggled and made a violent noise in protest as his mouth was forced open and a blood-replenishing potion was forced down his tender throat by one of his captors, returning colour to his pale and worn face.

A shadowy figure put away a wand-like object, gelatinous blood still dripping steadily from its tip as he tucked it away in the umbrous folds of his robe. A gravelly voice then rudely spoke with an air of mild impatience.

"Are you done yet Travis?"

"Yes… although I do still have one more spell I need to test-… "

"NO, IT'S MY TURN," Rosario roared as he interrupted and swung a meaty hand at the temple of the speaker . They locked limbs with one another as they tumbled around the room and broke into a fist fight, their teeth gnashing as spittle foamed at both their mouths while limbs flailed wildly at each other.

In the brief madness, Harry tried to crawl on all fours to the door; it was slightly ajar as they had forgotten to close it properly. The carving of runes on the surface devoid of colour as the promise of escape seemed so close.

He was about to reach the entrance when suddenly there was silence. A maniacal squeal erupted behind him as he felt two pairs of hands rapaciously grab his legs, dragging him back into the room by his feet, fear clouding his senses as the gap he was so close to was getting farther and farther away.

They flung him against the wall and both turned towards him. "You've been a bad boy," Rosario purred, creating a disjointing sight as he was still frothing at the lips. As they dove on him, the last thing Harry heard before they started ripping into his clothes and skin was a psychotic whisper in his ear.

"You're going to wish you never did that."

Albus and Poppy both held their breath, lungs paralyzed and faces turning pallid, as they only saw only an innocent young girl, and not a strife-filled man, who had been violated in every manner possible as he was hollowly recounting his ordeal.

Harry did not even realize that he had finished telling everything that happened to him. His emotions heightened as he felt his magical core go into overdrive. The newly worn silver band started heating up and burn intensely, searing his skin as it strained and struggled to absorb the overwhelming amount of magic his being was presently radiating.

Heartbeat racing, as if on the verge of exploding out of his chest as it palpitated wildly, he forced himself to calm down as he firmly grasped on his magic and wrenched it inwards, spluttering as the effort caused him to break out in a cold sweat.

The evanescence of his magic continued, until finally the heat from silver band on his wrist dissipated, leaving a ring of raw skin around the area.

With a shuddering breath, he fell back onto the bed spent, hair flowing in all directions, as dark rings appeared around his eyes on his pale face from the inner battle he just fought.

A look of unadulterated fury lay barely repressed in Albus' eyes at Harry's vignette. He glanced down and waved a hand in the air and cast a silent and wandless healing spell that soothed and healed the torus shaped burn on Harry.

Coming to a decision, he waited until Harry's delicate form had stopped shaking before saying anything.

"How old are you Ariana?" Albus intoned, swiftly changing the topic.

As if Harry had intrinsically known this fact all his life, he couldn't stop himself as he blurted out, "I'll turn eleven this year."

"Do you have a home to go back to?" Albus responded, after a brief pause.

Harry saw the implied question in enquiry and responded softly as he thought about the people he had met in the afterlife.

"No sir, my parents are dead, I have no family left."

Albus' next sentence held a funny tone which Harry could not decipher.

"Would you like to stay at Hogwarts in the meantime? I have a quiet and comfortable room that I think you would like very much."

Harry's eyes lit up, enraptured by the thought of staying in a place where he would soon meet everyone.

"Yes Professor, I would like that very much indeed," he shyly responded, face flushed with pleasure.

Albus then turned serious as he eyed to the puzzling enigma in front of him.

"I want to be very frank with you. Without this bracelet, you will be a danger to everyone and yourself." He continued, caution lacing every word.

"Can I have a promise from you to never take it off, despite the situation?"

As Harry solemnly nodded, all Albus saw was no one but his beloved sister in the brave face that stared back fervently into his. Old wrinkled hands unyielding tightened their grip on the cold, steel handles of the hospital bed where Harry lay.

I will save you this time Ariana, I swear on my life.


Unable to sleep later that night, Harry stood in front of the repaired mirror with his hospital gown unfastened at the nape, letting it fall down to his waist in a similar manner as yesterday. A sliver of moonlight splashed on him through an arched window, igniting the silvery hues of the mirror.

He slowly traced the fading scars on his nascent chest with a slender finger, marvelling at how effective the potions were. Turning around, collecting his hair in one hand and looking over shoulder at his back, he noticed that the scars had lost their aggressive black tone and adopted a greyish hue as he could not sense as much dark magic as he once did.

Seventeen years of being a boy did not help him as he blushed madly when he saw himself, openly admitting that he extremely pretty for his age. Even with his sudden transformation, he simply couldn't think of himself as a girl. Shaking his head in embarrassment, he fastened up his gown.

Just as he turned around and headed back to bed, he froze, rooted to the spot as voice he never hoped in his life to hear again sibilantly whispered with curiosity in his head.

I felt that you know.


A/N: The damaged mind of seventeen year old boy thrust into the emotional body of a ten year old girl. Will Harry be able to cope with his upcoming struggles? Or will the combination of both aspects contribute to his downfall?

As always, criticisms are super welcome! Also, special thanks to Vruon for pointing out a minor error!