Be Selfish

Chapter 9

Antonin observed the boy from the unbreakable glass between the ritual room and the observation room. The observation room was elevated, which left Antonin staring down at the boy, which he would have been doing regardless. He was far taller than the boy, which given the malnutrition it was hardly surprising. The Potters had never been overly tall, not like his family, even Black and Snape had begun towering over Potter whilst in their final year at Hogwarts if he recalled correctly, he had come with Abraxas for Lucius and then his betrothed's graduation ceremonies and had naturally observed them.

He had never seen this ritual performed; he knew what it had been liked too though. The unmitigated agony he was about to endure he wouldn't wish on his worst enemy. The boy wasn't his enemy, let alone worst enemy, not really, he was – or had been – still a child. He was legally an adult now and had been so for two years.

Everything he had heard and seen indicated at an utter lack of understanding. The boy had had light propaganda shoved down his throat for the past five years. More so with Dumbledore himself holding the reigns and not just hearing shit from students who had propaganda shoved down their throats in titbits from their parents. Who then were naturally more inclined to tell their friends and they take it as gospel, that it was the truth, never conceiving the idea they were wrong.

Antonin was intelligent enough to know they weren't guiltless, but neither was the so called 'light side' they were all fighting for a side they believed in.

Noise brought Antonin out of his thoughts, narrowing his gaze into the room where Harry was kneeling on the floor. Undressed with naught but a pair of white underpants on to preserve his modesty. The goblin was dipping his finger into a viscous liquid, that was dark, ruby or red diamond depending on the light, and it sparkled. Even in the darkness you would have seen the goblins index finger trace a design into Harry's chest, in multiple places.

"What's in that?" Antonin asked, suspicious of everything. "Given it's colour…I'm hoping not blood?" using blood of anything on anyone wasn't a good thing.

"Not human, Scamander blood, their regenerative abilities make it work very well with the ritual." The goblin observing alongside Antonin revealed. They did not let anyone just roam around their bank without an escort. Thus, Dolohov and Potter would be with a goblin at all times.

Antonin grunted his understanding, watching the goblin make his way around to Harry's back and begin to create sigils. Harry had gone very stiff, his head following the goblin as far as he was able clearly not trusting them. Given the mess his back had been in a week prior he honestly didn't blame him for the reactions.

"We have here in his Ministry file, an indication of a severe incident of accidental magic," the goblin stated, "Between one and ten how likely are we in for a replay?" they all knew Lord Potter was very powerful, the spells they had up on Gringotts itself revealed as such. They'd reinforced their protections around the room, which wasn't due until next year, but they were of the mind it's better to be safe than sorry.

"Replay? Very likely," Antonin said a savage smirk adorned his face. "That incident happened when he was thirteen, anger got the better of him, but it was intentional. Can you imagine what he will be feeling now? Especially knowing he was so fundamentally raped in a way no wizard should be?" Dumbledore had raped Harry of his magic, of his potential, and may well have cost the boy his life if the bindings weren't removed before his seventeenth birthday.

The goblin's beady eyes narrowed in silent contemplation. Teeth bared in a parody of a grin, as he glanced at the skeletal boy kneeling in the room. They'd never been one to sceptic of how powerful a wizard or witch was by their bodies. However, he was tempted to feel as such at this moment. This too thin – even to a goblin – slip of a boy with more power in his body than even he realised bound as it was. Yet his power levels were set to go off the charts. "We may be seeing the rise of another Merlin…"

Antonin almost choked, glancing sideways at the goblin, managing to clear his throat a little. His mind was left reeling, the Potters were powerful, no mistake but to be compared to Merlin? Lord of all magic? bird speaker, Parseltongue, and all-around amazing wizard with such accomplished feats that were unforgotten. "What would you bet on that?"

"I'd bet everything because I know I'm right, I can feel it, can't you?" the goblin declared, gaze never once wavering from the boy kneeling at the middle of the rune circle.

A shiver ran down Antonin's back, unlike the goblins he had trouble believing that this small slip of a thing had power that levelled with Merlin himself. Merlin outranked, outpowered even the Hogwarts founders, so if they were Messiahs…Merlin himself was likened to a god.

"Yes," Antonin agreed, people would pass it off as goosebumps, or a case of the shivers, a sudden coldness or a breeze. However, he was more sensitive to magic than that.

Speaking of goosebumps, when the three Goblins began chanting in their own language, which sounded deep and guttural. Just a tiny speck away from being snarls, it made it a difficult language to learn and its why humans rarely learned to speak it. They were fast in their recital of the words, surprisingly so as a matter of fact. "Use this ritual a lot, do you?" he couldn't help but comment.

"They've been practicing all day and evening and this morning in preparation for the ritual," the goblin commented dryly, "Surprisingly enough, we don't find ourselves performing this ritual often. Let alone one that requires three goblins in order to beat out Dumbledore's blockages upon a powerful wizard's magical core without killing both the goblins and Lord Potter."

The room suddenly shaking against the backlash of magic, the unbreakable glass shaking against the cave it was immersed on. The goblins bravely didn't stop chanting, although they had backed away as much as they could whilst still being in the room.

The vibrations got tougher, causing Antonin to grasp a hold of anything to keep himself up right. The goblin grunted and utterly without grace tumbled luckily right into a corner, so he didn't fall over and humiliate himself.

Antonin ducked his head down using his shoulders in an attempt to cover his ears, the vibrations were vocal, and it was hurting his ears. He could tell the goblin was in far dire straits, clearly their hearing was far superior than his own. It was curled up hands clasped uselessly over its ears. "Silencio!" Antonin cast it at the goblin, and around the room, and they both almost bowled over in relief.

But that relief wasn't for long, the glass – spelled unbreakable – partition shattered, raining tiny particles of glass over the two. There was no time for spells, just an instinctive reaction to raise their arm to protect themselves. Naturally Antonin's wand was grasped firmly in his grip.

"Is the ritual complete?" Antonin wanted to know, given the magical backlash there was no way they'd be able to do it again for at least five or six months. That kind of magical backlash likely had drained Harry's core…that was pure magic that had blasted from the boy.

The goblin clicked his finger, very swiftly regaining its composure, and the glass that surrounded them was gone. The last thing they needed was Dolohov pressing charges. Which could happen if he was feeling vindictive enough. Luckily nothing more than glass raining down and a few minor cuts could be possible. At least where Dolohov was concerned, now to find out how Lord Potter had faired during the ritual. "Situation report?" he commanded, as he stood peering through the ritual room.

Luckily it seemed wholly intact, and his fellow goblins seemed just fine.

"That's not possible…"

"Must be a mistake…"

"Try again…"

"Report!" the goblin demanded; disliking being ignored.

If he thought another sharp bark of a single word would help, he was sorely mistaken. The irritated goblin, stomped out of the side room and made his way to the ritual room itself. He blinked as he entered, the building had suffered minor damages, dust and stone from the cave had shaken lose. It was charred, like some sort of flame had shot out? Or heat perhaps? He couldn't say what had happened, unfortunately, his head had been firmly buried in the ground.

"Are your clothes burnt?" the goblin – Grae – asked befuddled, "Just what happened in here?" glancing away when he realized Lord Potter was entirely naked. Whatever had happened in here had eaten away at his briefs. Presumably some sort of fire? But he hadn't felt anything except the shaking, certainly no smoke or heat.

"The readings are the same, there is no mistake,"

"But how can that be?"

"It should be impossible…"

"Could our spells be malfunctioning due to the excess magic in the area?"

"The amount of magic it's absorbed we're not going to have to recharge this room for a decade,"

"Enough," Antonin barked, "How is he?" they could debate all they like later, once he and Harry had left. He knelt before the unconscious teenager, absently conjuring up a pair of shorts to preserve his modesty.

"I am healer Blakely, and I hold a Mastery in Runes, and I can safely say, I've never seen anything like this." The goblin Blakely stated, "His core is fully replenished, as if nothing has happened at all, as if his magic wasn't blocked."

"It may have been unravelling on its own." The other goblin pointed out, Artyom looked baffled, "Which is completely illogical, it would mean he's…"

"Holds nearly twice the power of Dumbledore," Antonin finished the statement. "The block may well have begun ravelling years ago."

"There was an unprecedented amount of power level rise when he entered Gringotts two years ago, compared to today." Grae looking through the folder of information they and the Ministry held on Lord Potter. "So, we can summarise perhaps upon his thirteenth birthday if it happened at all?" his goblins were all aflutter.

Healer Blakely glanced up at the terrifying wizard, who picked Lord Potter up under his neck and knees with ease. "He didn't make a sound. Everything I read indicated that it rivalled and in some cases was worse than the Cruciatus curse." Impressed despite itself, the goblin race was a warrior race, they were tough, master fighters and quite powerful, even without wands.

Antonin stared at the four goblins, all of them staring at Harry with an air of reverence. Harry was unconscious and ensconced in his arms unaware of all this. It would seem he had better take Harry home, or rather to his home. He doubted Harry would like to think of his home as his own. Best to let Smirnov give him a once over, he wasn't one to believe what he was told, even if it were from the goblins.

Harry groaned, it was such a soft sound, but it was heard due to the silence in the room. The fact it was a cavernous room didn't help matters either.

Antonin pondered on whether to put Harry back on the floor and let him come round. It was probably what the boy would prefer, after all he didn't like coming too close to him that had been made apparent. On the other hand, he didn't want him sitting on the cold floor which was still littered with little stone pebbles that had fallen from the structure during the unblocking of his magic.

Had it happened without the extra security measures they'd taken, he reckoned the room would have caved in. Likely taken Harry and the three goblins with him, perhaps even him and Grae as well. Glancing towards the partition that had been obliterated when it literally shouldn't have been.

"Wha…" Harry uttered, blinking at the ceiling of the cave completely confused.

"Your name is Harry Potter, you're at Gringotts, you've just been through the ritual to unbind your magic." Antonin quietly but firmly told the boy. "How are you feeling?" ready to set the boy down if he requested it for his own comfort. Given what he'd been through, it was likely how he was with everyone nearly, not just him. Using the same routine, he'd used when the Dementors had first begun to surround him. his name, where he was and what he had been doing before the Dementors had begun to affect him.

"Like someone rattled me about like a sack of old bones." Harry said, the urge to tell Antonin to let him down was strong. However, stronger still, was the feeling of being entirely enveloped and safe. He so wasn't used to this, and didn't want to trust it, but he couldn't help himself. It was such a lovely feeling, one he wasn't used to, but it just felt so good.

Antonin snorted, a pang of amusement hitting him, it must be down to Azkaban he thought. That he'd find anything anyone says as humorous. Especially comments like that, or perhaps it was the picture it created. What could he say? He'd spent the past decade in prison, a lot of things sounded funny compared to his pre-Azkaban humour.

"Did it work?" Harry asked, green eyes glazed a little with severe pain, that he was so used to going unnoticed that he didn't even think to ask for any help.

"A pain relief draught, now," Antonin bit out. He wasn't against getting help when it was requested, he could feel how tense the boy was, how he was barely daring to breathe too much. It was clear he was in a great deal of pain without bringing the pain he could see in his eyes into it.

Healer Blakely immediately fled to retrieve his medical supplies, normally he'd summon it. Unfortunately, the amount of magic they'd performed, made it impossible. Although, if he was genuinely honest, he felt rejuvenated, but that just might be from the high of succeeding in doing the ritual. He'd rather not drop unconscious by risking summoning so soon after expanding his magic.

"Open your mouth, or I'll force it down your throat," Antonin ordered, yanking the stopper off with his teeth as he was handed it. Giving Harry a look that suggested he best not start anything because he wasn't kidding.

Harry opened his mouth shyly, not out of fear, or his sudden desire to listen to Antonin. No, he was a realist, he knew he'd be returning to the Dursley's soon. If Antonin was right, nobody had figured it out yet, well, he'd need all the strength he could bring to bear to go back.

Oh, he didn't want to. No, it was the last thing on earth he wanted to do.

The urge to kill Dumbledore was so devastatingly strong that he feared his magic would just react like it did with Marge. Unfortunately, he doubted he'd get a smack on the wrist if it happened again, the magical world was just waiting for a reason to see him gone.

It hurt, a lot, but Harry was so bone achingly used to it.

Then Harry's body felt like it was melting, as he fully relaxed as the pain relief did its job. Oh, thank Merlin for that. Without the pain his thoughts could finally centre around something other than unending agony and silent pleas for the pain to end or embarrassingly enough, not wanting the moment to end despite the pain, for the comfort he gained was almost worth it.

"Are you feeling up to redressing?" Antonin asked, not quite yet putting Harry down, he weighed next to nothing, so it was no difficulty in keeping him there. "Or would you prefer time to recover on your own?" giving him a choice, something he'd had precious little in his life.

Harry glanced at himself, blanching when he realized he definitely didn't have the same underwear on as before he fell unconscious. "Bloody hell," flushing red in mortification, he could barely believe it. "What happened to…er…the white ones?" praying it was just a change in colour from the ritual or something.

"Your magic ate through them, and almost obliterated the room," Antonin replied drolly, easing the boy back onto his feet, keeping a hold of him until he was sure he wouldn't fall over.

The goblins thoughtfully clicked their fingers, and a seat popped into existence like the ones in the hallway they'd passed. Allowing Harry to sit down while he dressed. Which was exactly what Harry had done. He was slow to begin with, but as he regained his equilibrium, he began to go a little faster. "What happened?" he asked as he slid his trousers up his legs and passed his bony knees.

"The ritual was successful," healer Blakely informed him, the goblin spoke simply but truthfully. "The magical released was far more powerful than we anticipated. It caused a little bit of damage, but strangely enough, your magic was absorbed into the rune stones once the damage was done and has powered them massively."

Harry grimaced, as he looked around, before he put his top on, "Yeah, sorry about that." Not surprised at the damage his magic was capable of, welcome to his world.

Antonin's mouth twitched in amusement, he made no offer of reparations, just made it sound like an every day unavoidable thing. The goblins wouldn't dare to try and get money from Harry given who he was. The money they'd get in interest from the Potter vault a year made this little incident negligible really.

"Think nothing of it," the healer goblin continued, "What has caught us all of guard was…we believe your magic may have been removing the blocks on your core on its own."

Harry stood up, affixing his cloak, "Is that normal?" suspecting it was not, and seeking answers instead of assuming.

Antonin watched the levelheadedness the boy was displaying; he'd been led to believe the boy was horribly impulsive. Wore his emotions on his sleeve, then again, a lot of what he believed about the boy was lies and outright exaggerating's.

"Nothing about how this went is normal," Grae muttered, but Harry heard.

"According to every ritual, yours was rather abnormal." The healer goblin informed him, "Not only because you didn't seem to react, and it's likened to being under the Cruciatus Curse, but because you expanded a lot of magic, and your magic levels are just fine. You should be at least a little drained, but you're not. Your magic is acting as if nothing had happened." His magic had been absorbed into the rune stones for Merlin's sake!

"It was," Harry declared, stretching out as he shoved his foot into his boot and then the other before adjusting himself comfortably. He had to admit he loved the wizarding clothes; he was very grateful for Antonin for getting him them. He was determined to get himself some more.

Antonin had…found the straw that broke the camels back without realising it.

Harry was done with the wizarding world. Done with Dumbledore. Done with the light side.

There was no need for anyone to know that quite yet now was there?

"Excuse me, it was what?" the goblin enquired, did he mean his magic levels are just fine? It was 'drained' maybe? Or it was as painful as the Cruciatus Curse? He didn't wonder how the boy knew, for he was well aware he'd suffered under such a curse when he was just a young fourteen-year-old.

"It was worse than the Cruciatus Curse," Harry elaborated seeing they wanted confirmation. Stretching out languidly, Merlin, he wanted to cast some spells, which reminded him he'd been meaning to ask all morning. "I am assuming I'll need a new wand?"

"Yes," came the immediate and vehement reply, "Your magic has more than doubled…be warned, any attempts to use your old wand will be catastrophic."

"To both you and your surroundings."

"I thought as much," Harry agreed, nodding his head, "And since it won't be registered to the Ministry…I'll be able to use magic." eyes gleaming with utter delight, if it were anyone else it would have been impish, mischievous.

It was just Harry being a survivalist.

"Unless there are wards around your property." the goblin bluntly informed him.

Harry's eye twitched, glancing at the goblin suspiciously, but it would explain how they believed he was responsible for Dobby's magic. Which meant it wasn't just Dumbledore monitoring him but the Ministry of magic as well. "Why does that sound like a statement rather than a guess?"

The goblins suddenly found something other than Harry's body extremely interesting. They couldn't have been more obvious about it if they tried. "Apologies, confidentiality."

Harry turned to stare at Antonin, giving him a pointed look. "They're never that obvious." He added, already having a good idea that he was behind this. At least in some capacity, he didn't understand it all fully, but he would, that much he was determined.

Antonin snorted, "Agreed," honestly, they couldn't have been more obvious if they tried. If he didn't know any better, he'd think that Harry had got into their minds. "I am behind the confidentiality."

"Why do you want to know about my house?" Harry asked warily, making no effort to hide his caution.

"I want to find out what wards are set upon your…Muggle relatives' home." Antonin explained. "I hoped to have answers for you. The extraction process to find out who bound your magic and talents is extremely painful, and so very rarely done because of it. It's the only real way to prove once and for all that Dumbledore is guilty. I think that if given enough time with you, he'd convince you he was innocent. So, yes, I am hoping that the property will shed some light for…you."

Harry paled, "But the Order…" a little panicked at the thought of them finding out he was gone, and Harry wasn't quite sure why, just an instinctive reaction perhaps.

"The Goblins were informed to be inconspicuous," Antonin reassured Harry, even though he could see that his panic had bated over his likely automatic reaction. "Which I assume they did?" eyeing the goblins with deadly intent.

"They were successful in all rules set forth," slightly insulted, but not enough to mention it or Merlin forbid, show it. "The file is in the office if you'd like to read it? No doubt, if you were serious about pressing charges, questions need to be asked." Giving them a pointed look. Given the rumours that had been swirling around the boy for six years, it would be pretty informative he had to admit.

Antonin didn't bother mentioning the rest would be done in the UK. The boy would be returning to the Dursley's, to Privet Drive tomorrow. What he did with himself was up to him. He rather hoped he had kickstarted some independence in the wizard. What he'd been through was horrific, and if he thought he could keep the boy safe and out of the war he'd ask him in a nanosecond.

He was growing rather fond of the young wizard. Then again, after over a decade in Azkaban it was hardly surprising that he was feeling attached to someone he spent time with.

He wasn't looking forward to the conversation he'd need to have with the Dark Lord tomorrow once he returned Harry to Privet Drive as dictated by the Parley.

"Good," Antonin declared, and he knew without a doubt that they'd already taken their payment from his vault. "And did you succeed in my second request?" he had asked for all books on natural healers to be found, books and journals actually, from the Romanov side of the family, as his grandparents had suggested.

"They will likely beat you home," the goblin said amused, "I literally had just sent them off when your presence was felt in Gringotts." Antonin nodded his confirmation that he'd heard and understood.

"And Lord Potter?" Grae begun, waiting until he had the boy's attention. "We make the far superior wands. Due to the…belief's your country holds; they refrain from using the best of materials offered to them. All wands Ollivander makes are geared towards a light core, and the dark fraction if they don't stop elsewhere take the best offered to them which is rather detrimental long term."

Harry automatically sought out Antonin's wand then his face. However, the wizard didn't seem the slightest bit surprised. He had either known or his wand was from Russia. Harry wondered how often he came here, was he half raised in Russia and half in the UK? He didn't have a broad Russian accent like the ones on TV. In fact, he sounded English so he assumed his formative years were definitely in the UK.

"If you want, I can take you for a new wand before we return home." Antonin stated, "Return to my home." Amending his statement before the boys' hackles could be raised at a simple slip of the tongue.

Home, he liked the sound of that, he hadn't had a home where he was fully accepted. He was an unwanted burden upon his relatives who had 'taken the boy in out of the goodness of their hearts' so they liked to say. He'd never considered Privet Drive to be home, not since as far back as he could remember. The closest he had gotten to a 'home' was Hogwarts, but it wasn't his, not really. It was a school, but it meant so much to him, and likely many others, including Voldemort.

Harry gave a nod, hopefully he'd get back home before all the pain returned. The goblins potions were far superior to anything he'd ever tried. Including the potions Professor Snape made, but no doubt the goblins had their own recipes and such. "I would like to withdraw some funds if that's possible?" adding when it was clear they didn't truly understand, "Without Dumbledore finding out where I am."

"He will not." Antonin declared, saying nothing further on the subject.

"He's quite correct, nobody except the goblin manager in charge of your vaults at Gringotts main branch." The goblin informed them, Grae ushered them out of the room. The cleaners were already waiting, and would give a thorough reading of what damage – if any – other than superficial occurred. Other than silent nods they didn't speak, and closed the door behind them.

"Follow me, we have some questions…" Grae begun but he was abruptly stopped.

"No, not today," Harry shook his head, mind a little fuzzy. "I'm not answering questions when I'm not up to it. I need a clear mind for it, so he'll have to forgive me."

"That is very well thought out, you are best doing this on a clear mind," Antonin agreed, squeezing Harry's shoulder in a show of solidarity. He was surprised when Potter didn't stiffen or pull away, perhaps the boy had gotten used to him after all. "It will happen back in Britain." He wouldn't be able to answer all their questions in the time before tomorrow's departure.

The thought of that surprisingly left a sour taste in Harry's tongue. Yet he said nothing as his mind begun to tick away as his thoughts began to wonder…could he really have a life for himself?

"Very well," the goblins inclined their heads respectfully, giving Harry the closest honour possible without the added tag 'goblin friend' being added on the title.

Antonin wondered if Potter even realized just how rare that respect was? He decided it was likely he didn't, and without another word, he followed Potter towards the entrance (and exit) of Gringotts. "Wand?" he grunted out, inhaling the fresh air, as he waited for an answer.

"Please," Harry nodded confirmation.

Antonin grasped a hold of Harry's wrist, and side-long apparated the boy to the magical district. He eyed it critically; nothing had changed at all it seemed.

Harry gasped, "What's going on over there?" his green eyes filled with sympathy, as he observed the line of …well, miserable people, a lot of them were kids. A few of them were even crying, silently, and some adults. Which was a strange sight, Harry didn't think he'd seen an adult cry before, although he knew they probably did it was just odd.

Antonin followed Harry's sight, but he had a rough idea of what had caught his attention. He was quite correct in his assumptions, "They're waiting to see a healer," gesturing upwards towards the universally known sign of a healer, well to him, Potter might not know it.

"Are we really that early?" Harry asked, as Antonin pressed his hand against Harry's back and guided him along the road. Which just happened to be in front of the kids. "Why isn't it open?"

"It's a clinic, they do what they can to help people for free," Antonin explained as Harry was digging his heels in and refusing to move. "It's not always guaranteed to be open."

"You mean they might not get seen?" Harry asked, sympathy warring inside of him. "Isn't there anywhere else for them to go?"

"They likely don't have the funds to go to the hospital," Antonin declared, "The wand shop is three doors down." trying to urge Harry to move but not forcing him. Harry had been through too much already, been forced through too much and he couldn't in good conscience do more damage.

"Hello, little one, where does it hurt?" Harry asked, sidling forward towards the child, he couldn't make out their gender. They were well wrapped up against the cold, well except its left hand, which the child had managed to remove his glove.

"Potter," Antonin warned, approaching a child and speaking to it was not socially acceptable.

The mother, held the child tighter, but refused to budge out of the line. She couldn't let the others behind her push her out of the day in a bid to be seen sooner. Shooting glares at the sheer audacity of the boy to approach her and her son as if they knew one another. "Remove your hands from…" but before she could finish her statement, her son began to glow and her breathing hitched, a natural healer…here of all places?

"Ouch…bloody hell, now that's just out of this world…it's like an out of body experience," Harry told Antonin, leaning heavily against him. "I could feel their pain…his pain…"

"You're a natural healer, it's normal," Antonin stated, wincing at the loudness and suddenness of dozens of people speaking, begging and pleading for Harry's attention. Promising things they never could deliver, or would deliver. A son or daughters' hand in marriage, money, riches, literally anything they believed might tempt the young wizard. "Back off!" he snarled ferociously.

Antonin's towering form had them all backing off. The children crying out as they were jarred and their pain worsening. Harry felt sympathy for them all, especially the children that were hurt. "Did it work?" he asked, peering at the little boy, who was waving his arm around enthusiastically. He'd actually did it, he'd healed him with magic on its own? "How is this possible?"

"You've been doing it to yourself for years, you know what they say," Antonin said darkly, "Practice makes perfect."

"Please, she's only a baby," the Russian mother pleaded with Harry, the only reason he understood was due to the translation spell Antonin put on him. "Please, I'll do anything…anything you want…please?" the pink winter onesie encompassed most of the baby, all he could see was a side of her face and her hands and feet which were carefully wrapped to keep her warm. What he could see was flushed red, presumably from the crying she'd been doing.

"I really don't know what I'm doing." He said, staring at the little girl with awe. The baby was the youngest child he'd ever seen and been this close to before. Nobody wanted to be near him while he was in the Muggle world. He was seen as a bad influence, so the babies were well covered and hidden and rushed away from him. He wasn't going to see babies at Hogwarts now, was he? The longing that hit him like a ton of bricks surprised him though.

Harry's two fingers gently brushed away the small lock of hair, the eyes followed him curiously. He again felt everything she did, as his magic once again healed the little girl, the realisation of what had been wrong alarming him. "Her core was destabilising." The mother gasped in terror, tears filling her eyes and falling.

Antonin froze, "How is she now?"

"I've repaired the damage and given her a little boost and healed her, some sort of magical infection?" Harry said, just because he could feel what was going on, it didn't mean he understood what it was. Hence the entire prospect of natural healers needing to learn everything.

"Dragon Pox?" Antonin suggested, narrowing his gaze on the child, trying to find any sign of green spots, but found nothing. Perhaps it wasn't then, perhaps it was a combination of other things? "No, not unless it wasn't advanced enough."

"Unless she only had a less severe strain having had the vaccination?" Harry suggested, and the mother nodded immediately, replying that yes, her daughter had been vaccinated as soon as she could, she'd lost her father and great-grandmother to the horrid disease. Which hadn't been a good time with the war with Grindelwald as well. If it wasn't one thing it was the other.

"Well, we know it's possible to get it despite being inoculated, it just stops the worst of it," Antonin agreed.

"She's fine now," Harry told the mother, not good with reassurance or being even remotely professional. Harry was at the end of the day only sixteen years old, he glanced at Antonin who huffed out a laugh, before ruefully shaking his head. He didn't say anything about taking her to a professional, or should have already done, that would just make her feel worse.

Then he was surrounded again, with pleads and begging for him to hear their cases. They were though, without a doubt good people. He noticed that nobody was trying to force their way in front of the adults with children.

"Someone's going to open that clinic, right?" Harry asked staring at the group of people surrounding him overwhelmed. He was going to be in pain soon when the potion wore off and he still hadn't had his wand. Upside though, it felt so good using his magic, and helping people was…even better.

He couldn't just leave them in pain when there was something he could do about it.

Antonin rolled his eyes and muttered about Potter's and their bleeding hearts. His gaze though, was still on the young baby he had seen Harry caress (in a bid to heal her). He'd seemed very enamoured, and Antonin had to admit, he was too. Name a wizard his age who didn't want a child. Seeing them like that though had sparked something in him…the notion baffled him really.

A/N – hmm will Antonin and Harry remain In Russia or would you like to see them in the UK? Or Will we see them going back and forth? They've bound to have a property in the UK that they're safe in, I mean a lot of Death Eaters got away and they surely didn't stick to Voldemort's backside the entire time 😊 will the second parley be in the UK then? With Smirnov coming with them still dutybound to continue healing Harry? R&R please