A/N: Harry's a tough cookie.  Enjoy!

Chapter 4: Questions and Revelations

Sirius returned in a matter of moments, the headmaster at his side.  "Well, young Harry," Dumbledore said, settling himself back into his armchair, "the entire house is in uproar with your recovery.  However, I have arranged for the three of us to have a quiet chat over lunch, which should be arriving shortly."

No sooner did he stop speaking than three trays materialized into the room, hovering in the air.  One tray floated to Harry and Dumbledore each; the third waited while Sirius drew up another chair.  Harry's had feet that rested on the bed, raising the tray to span his legs.

With the appearance of the food Harry became aware of his stomach which felt like it was trying to gnaw a hole through his middle.  He had warm bread, cheese, sliced fruit, a small pudding, and a large goblet of cold milk.  Harry took a big bite of bread with strawberry jam.  "Mmmmmmhhh," he sighed, sinking back into his pillows.

"Hungry?" Sirius asked.

"Mmmpf," Harry replied, taking another bite.

"You should be," his godfather said, slicing a veal cutlet.  "You haven't eaten in a week."

Harry dropped both his bread and his jaw.  "What?"

"I must say, Harry, you gave us all quite a fright," Dumbledore said.  He took a bite of beef roast with gravy and smiled.  "Delicious."

Harry's head was full of questions, but he was too busy eating to ask them.  They all ate quietly for a few moments before Dumbledore put down his knife and fork and sat back in his chair.  "It may take some time to satiate a week's hunger, Harry, so I shall relate recent events to you for now."  Harry nodded, and started working on the cheese.  Dumbledore cleared his throat and began.  "Last Saturday evening, your aunt and uncle gave you something to drink in complete ignorance of its true nature.  What you drank is called Dragonthistle Potion.  It is one of the more deadly poisons known to the magical world, and is rare and difficult to brew."

Harry was horrorstruck.  "They poisoned me?"

"Yes, but unwittingly," Dumbledore said.  "Your aunt and uncle got it from their neighbors – the Mortisons, as I believe they were calling themselves."  Harry stared at him.  Why would his neighbors poison him?  Dumbledore's face betrayed a hint of anger.  "Based on their descriptions, they were most likely Fergus and Ludmilla Blake, a wizarding couple who have long been suspected of dabbling in the dark arts."

"They did more than dabble," Sirius growled darkly.

"So it would seem," the headmaster agreed.  "You would have died the following day had you not drunk more than a liter of milk in the middle of the night.  Do you remember this?"

Harry nodded slowly.  "I remember waking up and being really thirsty, but milk was all I wanted."

"Milk is not an antidote for Dragonthistle Potion, but it does slow the effects.  The poison is very acidic, and it was dehydrating you.  Your body was craving a basic liquid to offset it, and milk was a convenient solution."

Dumbledore paused to drink from his goblet before taking up the story again.  "Your relatives found that this was not your only unusual symptom.  Besides running a high fever, your eyes were changing color from green to silver and back again."

Harry looked at Sirius, who nodded.  "That's why I was glad to see Lily's eyes in your face."

"This change in color," Dumbledore said, "is caused by scorpion bile, which is an ingredient that is used only in Dragonthistle Potion."  Harry recoiled in disgust, and Dumbledore chuckled.  "Quite.  Your malady went untreated all day, and drinking milk cannot ultimately save you from the poison.  But your neighbor, Mrs. Arabella Figg, found out that you were ill when your relatives failed to bring you by as planned.  She notified me immediately."

The headmaster paused, and let his words sink in.  Harry's eyes grew wide.  "Mrs. Figg… Mrs. Figg is a witch?"

"I commissioned Arabella to keep watch over you from the day you came to live with the Dursleys fourteen years ago," Dumbledore said.  "Being blood relatives, they intrinsically offer you some protection.  It is very old magic – but that is an explanation for a different day.  We placed numerous wards around Privet Drive and still more around the house proper.  No Dark wizard could touch them without our knowing.  I must say, it was very clever of your enemies to send danger into your home by way of your… obtuse relations.  The poison by itself could not trigger an alarm.  But Arabella was a Ravenclaw, and is one of the cleverest and most resourceful witches I have ever known.  She always kept her eyes open.

"Arabella told me of your illness and your relatives' reluctance to discuss it.  I felt it would be prudent to send someone to check on you in case of foul play.  I called upon someone you have never met before, but who I hold close in my confidence.  Celeste Thornby arrived at your home Sunday evening.  When she saw your eyes, she knew immediately what you were suffering from.  She will, in fact, be your History of Magic professor this coming year, but that is not a commonly known fact."  Harry listened, rapt with attention.  Dumbledore had never given such a lengthy and detailed speech before, and he dared not interrupt.

"Professor Thornby collected you and your belongings and brought you in haste to Alverbrooke, where we now sit.  Your flight from Privet Drive was a dangerous one; Voldemort's supporters surely expected you to be as weak as a newborn kitten by then, and would have been converging to attack the wards.  Your family, fortunately, heeded Professor Thornby's warnings and fled the house.  She dared not bring you to Hogwarts, though it would have been the best place for you.  She knew that the Death Eaters would be expecting us to bring you there, and that they would Apparate straight to Hogsmeade.  Flying near it would have been too great a risk.

"No one could be sent to Alverbrooke for three days.  The Death Eaters were enraged when they discovered you had been spirited away.  They attacked Hogsmeade with a vengeance.  The village still stands," Dumbledore said, seeing Harry's shock, "but it has been badly damaged and many people were injured.  Hogsmeade has long been a target by supporters of Voldemort, and it was only a matter of time before they attacked.

"The entire wizarding population of England was caught up in the battle.  Busy as we were holding Voldemort at bay, all we could do was pray that Professor Thornby could keep you alive.  She did not have the antidote for Dragonthistle Potion, and it is almost as hard to make as the poison; she had no attention to spare for this, with you in her care.  You drank many lesser antidotes and restoratives in three days, such as she had, and she drank herself out of Stamina Potion.  By the third day she was sending messages by the hour, begging us to come as quickly as possible, for you were finally slipping away, and she was weary.  When we failed to arrive, she cast a spell as a last resort."

Dumbledore paused.  Harry looked at the somber faces of the headmaster and his godfather.  Dumbledore seemed temporarily lost in thought.  When he did not speak, Sirius cleared his throat.  "She used the Donum Vitae incantation.  It transfers vitality from the caster to a living thing – you, in this case.  You were nearly gone."  Sirius' voice wavered, and he looked down at his hands.  Harry sat very still.  "Celeste did as much as she could," his godfather continued.  "She was too tired to maintain the spell past a certain point, and she collapsed."

"We arrived after she had cast the spell, and found her asleep on the floor next to your bed," Dumbledore said gravely.

"I panicked," Sirius breathed.  "I thought we were too late.  We didn't know what she had done."

Harry's heart thumped painfully inside his chest.  Sirius raised his eyes again, and his face flickered into a smile.  "Snape examined you, and declared you to be not only alive, but not nearly as bad off as Celeste's messages had indicated.  He gave you the antidote straight away – he'd been working on it ever since the cause of your illness had been confirmed."

"I had to hold your nose to get you to swallow," Dumbledore said.

Harry couldn't help himself; he laughed aloud, and so did Sirius.  The tension in the room vanished, and he felt himself breathe normally again.  Harry suddenly felt better than he had since before the third task of the Triwizard Tournament, just one month ago.  It had been a long time since he had laughed properly.

"Professor Thornby was exhausted," Dumbledore continued.  "Three days' worth of Stamina Potion had worn off, and whatever energy she had left was used up in Donum Vitae.  She slept for thirty-six hours before coming around."

"I've never heard of Donum Vitae before," Harry mused.  "Will we learn that one?"

"No."  Dumbledore spoke so firmly that Harry immediately felt foolish without knowing what he had said wrong.  The headmaster made a soothing motion with one wrinkled hand.  "Be easy, please.  Your question is quite reasonable.  Donum Vitae is an arcane spell, and while it is useful, it is both demanding and dangerous.  It can only be used in cases of extreme need, and requires a great strength of will and singular purpose to cast.  Most people could repeat the spell over and over without anything ever happening."  Dumbledore looked very hard at Harry.  "However, nearly all the witches and wizards who have been able to manage it were unable to control the spell, and died giving their life to someone else."

Sirius grunted.  "She was lucky."

"Perhaps," Dumbledore said blithely.  "Those that survived after casting Donum Vitae spoke of a strong desire to hold on longer as the spell went on.  That seduction is the reason the incantation has not been taught for centuries."

Harry wondered where Professor Thornby had learned the spell, but kept the thought to himself and tried a different question.  "So who else is here, exactly?"

"There are five others," Dumbledore answered.  "Remus Lupin, Professor Thornby, Professor Snape, Ardoc Bellaton, and Healer Fitzwilliam Bigelow.  Ardoc will be your Defense Against the Dark Arts professor, for this year at least.  Healer Bigelow is an old friend of mine, and has been looking after you ever since Professor Snape administered the antidote.  Even after Professor Thornby cast her spell, you required quite a bit of time to recover.  This is the morning of the third day since then.  I'm sorry to say it, but you slept through your birthday."

"So... that makes three more people who know about Sirius," Harry said quietly.

Dumbledore nodded.  "When news of your poisoning reached me, I knew I could not keep it from your godfather.  Sirius came to Hogwarts with Remus, and I simply arranged for as few people to learn the truth as possible.  Those that know are completely trustworthy."

"Snape wasn't overly pleased to see Remus or myself," Sirius added.  "I'll have to tell you about it sometime, Harry.  His face turned the most amazing shade of purple –"

Dumbledore cleared his throat loudly, but his lips were curved into a faint smile.  Sirius broke off, grinning.  "The attack on Hogsmeade threw many people together.  Understandings were reached quickly, out of necessity," Dumbledore said.

An unpleasant thought had come to Harry.  "Do Ron and Hermione know about this?"

"No," Dumbledore said.  "Hardly anyone is aware of the attempt on your life.  Between the people in this house, Professor McGonagall, and the Death Eaters, you have the lot.  A few others who need to know will be told, of course, but I would rather this did not reach the ear of a Daily Prophet reporter.  Eager as I am to convince the wizarding world that Voldemort has returned, I will not do it at your expense.  I expect you have enjoyed more than your fill of publicity."  Harry nodded uncomfortably.  "You wish to confide in Ronald Weasley and Miss Granger, I suppose."

Something in Dumbledore's voice made Harry's heart sink.  "You don't want me to?" he asked, dismayed.

"No, no," Dumbledore said.  "You misunderstand me; I think you should tell them as soon as you are able.  I do not expect you to keep secrets from your closest friends.  Molly and Arthur will be among the informed, of course, but I am going to draw the line there with the Weasleys.  Now, I think that we have talked enough for the time being.  You have been neglecting your lunch," he asked, looking at Harry's tray.

"Must have slipped my mind," Harry murmured, feeling his hunger return in full force.

"Please do finish, Harry.  Fitzwilliam will not be happy with me if you do not.  Dear me, I've been threatened too many times today."  Everyone laughed.  "I must go speak with the others now – are you staying, Sirius?"

"Silly question," Sirius replied, scooting his chair closer to Harry's bed.

The headmaster stood up, and looked down at Harry.  "No doubt you have more questions, Harry, but for now they will have to wait.  Be assured that we shall speak more tomorrow."  And with a smile, he departed.

"Fuschia, Harry," his godfather said, after Dumbledore had left the room.  "I wish you could have seen it… I always thought Snape could use a little color in his cheeks."

Harry laughed again, and dug into his pudding.