Chapter 3

A Loud Awakening

Disclaimer: I own nothing! The characters are JK Rowling's.

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The nurse went in to check on her patient. But he wasn't just any patient who was in a coma. He was Harry Potter.

He had fallen into a coma a bit over 3 years ago after the great battle. They knew he could die at any minute. The chances of him awakening after 4 years were very slim, so everyone was pulling for him during his last year of greater odds.

Still, the odds were 1 to 4 that he would wake up. After 4 years, however, the odds decreased rapidly. The 4-year mark dropped the odds to 1 to 10. Then each year thereafter dropped by another point. 1 to 11. 1 to 12. After 10 years, it was almost considered a lost cause to have hope with someone waking up.

Ron, Hermione, and Ginny had never lost hope. They didn't care what the odds were. Odds were worth ignoring; hope was more important. They visited every week, speaking to Harry as if he could hear them.

As the nurse, Anne, tended to Harry, she sighed heavily. The poor boy. He wasn't really a boy anymore. Harry had grown to a tall, handsome man. The one thing that remained the same was his sparkling, emerald green eyes. She never tired of tending to him. It was an honor to care for the Boy Who Lived… but she couldn't help but think that maybe he wouldn't live this time. The odds were against him.

Anne checked for a pulse. She had always been instructed to do this every day for patients that were in a coma, though she hated it. It was as if everyone was waiting for them to die at any minute. Then she took his heart rate. Anne frowned. It was higher than usual. His heart had been beating at the same, slow pace for about 2 years now. The 1st year had been a bit faster beat, slowly decreasing to this speed.

This was weird, and Anne didn't know what to make of it. She was about to go talk with a specialist in heart rates when she thought she saw his finger twitch. She was scared. Was he having a seizure? Usually patients in a coma died of their heart slowing down too much. Was Harry's heart going to speed up too much?

She walked quickly down the hall.

"Doctor Flannigan! Please come quickly!" He followed her without hesitation, for her knew that she took care of Harry Potter.

"What is it, Anne?" he asked urgently.

"Harry's heart rate has been the same slow rate for 2 years. Now it has sped up slightly. Is something wrong?"

The Doctor gasped. "There are two possible things: polar opposites. One: Harry's heart is giving out. Or two: he is waking up."

Anne drew in a breath sharply. "I thought I saw his finger move."

Doctor Flannigan smiled. "Then I think our patient is waking up."

Anne was shocked. In a happy way, of course. They watched Harry for 10 minutes attentively. Then, Anne cried out.

"Did you see what I saw?" Anne asked excitedly.

The Doctor grinned. "His eye twitched. Yes I saw it."

In another 3 minutes, Harry was wiggling his fingers. Anne bit her lip. This was it. In less than an hour, the Boy Who Lived would wake up. She wondered what he would have to say.

All of Harry's friends had been informed that he could wake up soon. Within 5 minutes Hermione and Ron had apparated by his side. Only Ginny had gotten there sooner.

And at 3:34 p.m., Harry James Potter opened his eyes to a group of well-wishers. He blinked heavily a few times before taking a deep, shuddering breath. Then he opened his mouth, but no sound came out. He looked very confused and disoriented, as anyone who wakes up from a coma would.

"W-where, what-" he croaked, licking his lips and feebly clearing his throat. He had not talked for almost 4 years. "Water," he begged.

Anne went and quickly fetched water. He drank it gratefully.

"Blimey, what is going on?" Harry asked weakly.

Hermione and Ginny had tears in their eyes. They were so shocked and happy that Harry was awake. Ron appeared to be blinking furiously, as if not allowing the tears out. No one spoke, as if they were assuming that someone else would explain everything. Finally, Professor McGonagall spoke up.

"Mr. Potter, you have been in a coma for nearly 4 years," she said seriously. Harry's eyes widened in shock. He looked around the room disbelievingly, but nobody denied the statement.

Harry had only one thing to say. "Bloody hell," he croaked, a sarcastic smile spreading across his face. Light chuckles were heard throughout the room. Suddenly a flash went off. Reporters had come.

Harry frowned. Anne was furious. Harry had just woken up to a room full of friends. Now some dumb reporters were going to spoil the occasion? She thought not.

"OUT!" Anne screeched. "GET OUT! REPORTERS, YOU KNOW WHO YOU ARE! RIGHT NOW!"

Harry closed his eyes and put a hand to his head. The yelling was giving him a headache. Flashes were still going off from reporters as Anne forced them out. She closed the door quietly, trying not to disturb Harry any more than she already had.

"I'm sorry, Harry," she said apologetically. "I just got riled up."

"S'okay," Harry murmured sleepily.

Anne had an idea. "How about we let Harry relax until tomorrow and then anyone who wants to visit individually or in small groups can talk with him? I don't want to tire him out, he might fall into a coma for another week or two." Everyone nodded in assent. They filed out quietly. Harry fell asleep instantly under Anne's careful watch. Fortunately he did not slip back into a coma.

This time Harry's dreams were more peaceful. He could not remember what the memories from his coma were. They had slowly slipped away from him, and now all he knew was that they were very unpleasant. Maybe he didn't want to remember.

In these dreams, he remembered wonderful memories, but to his great frustration, he could not recall who the people were in them.

A friendly, freckled, redhead and him were opening presents on Christmas Day.

Suddenly the boy spotted a long, thin package lying underneath the other presents. "What's that?"

He ripped open the package to reveal a Firebolt.

A firebolt. The fastest, best, most expensive broom out there. The same broom he had went to see every day at Diagon Alley.

And it was his.

"I don't believe it," the boy said. "Who sent it to you?"

There was no card. Whoever it was from didn't even send a card!

Thoughts raced through his head… Was it Dumbledore? Lupin? No, Dumbledore couldn't favor students like that. And Lupin? Sure, he seemed to like Harry, but if he had that much money then he'd buy himself some new robes.

The redhead grinned. "Wait till Malfoy sees you on this! He'll be sick as a pig!"

They laughed. The redhead mimicked a look of shock and horror on his face and Harry tried to recall who they were talking about.

Who was Malfoy?

Harry was still in happiness. Who cared about some Malfoy character. He had a firebolt! It was his! His thoughts moved onto another dream.

Everyone around was laughing. Two redheaded twins apparently had pulled a huge prank. He was laughing too.

A portable swamp was everywhere!

"So…you think it amusing to turn a school corridor into a swamp, do you?" a sickly sweet voice said.

"Pretty amusing, yeah." One redhead said fearlessly.

Then an ugly, dirty man arrived with the 'Approval for Whipping.' The woman smiled evilly.

"You two are about to learn what happens to wrongdoers in my school."

"You know what? I don't think we are." One twin said. "I think we've outgrown full-time education."

"Yeah, I've been feeling that way myself," the other replied.

"Accio Brooms!" A loud crash came from the distance, and two brooms soared into the twins' grasp.

"Won't be seeing you," a redhead said to the woman, who's triumphant grin had faded.

"Yeah, don't bother to keep in touch."

They went on to describe their shop in Diagon Alley and that students would get discounts if they used the tricks to get rid of 'this old bat' (the woman).

"STOP THEM!" the women shrieked.

It was too late. The twins had mounted their brooms and flown towards the door. But not before their last words:

"Give her hell from us, Peeves."

And then they were gone, amid tumultuous applause.

Harry smiled in his sleep. But his smile faltered as he tried to recall who the redheads were… who? They were more important than the other boy he'd tried to remember, he just knew it.

"Harry?"

"Harry?" He wasn't dreaming anymore. Harry awoke to a nurse's face. She was gently shaking his shoulder.

"Hello.. erm…?"

"I'm Anne. I've been taking care of you, Harry, while you were sleeping."

Harry smiled. "Well, uh, thanks. That was very kind of you."

Anne smiled back. "How are you feeling? Do you want to sleep some more, or are you ready to see your friends?"

Harry thought about that, then grinned. "I reckon I've done enough sleeping to last me the rest of my life."

Anne laughed. "Alright then. I'll send them in."

"Okay."

Anne turned around. "But, Harry, listen. Things… well, things have changed while you were sleeping. If you feel overwhelmed, that is normal. I'm sure everyone will help you through it. But, if you are not ready, we understand."

Harry nodded.

"Are you sure, Harry? Do you really want to know everything?"

He nodded again determinedly. "Yes. I'm ready for the truth. I want to know everything."

He sat up in bed and awaited his first visitor.

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Sorry if the coma information about heart rates isn't accurate. I'm not an expert. So, what do you think?

Kelsey