Harry was suddenly aware of himself. His breath moved in and out, he felt the ground with his toes. He vaguely heard Tom run over to Harrison. He hoped that his Papa had had the presence of mind to get Abby out before running to his unconscious mate. Harry let out a low growl and he and Voldemort began circling. Harry knew that he was going to have to make the first move or he'd be dead meat. "So, Harry, we meet again. What a pleasant surprise. I see you've brought your family with you as well." Voldemort's gaze shifted over to Harrison and Tom and then to a small figure beside the pulpit. He ran through his brain to find the proper attack. Raising his wand above his head and bringing it down with a magnificent swish his voice rang out "Serpentsortia!" a snake fell from the ceiling, crashing down in front of him. With a hiss, he ordered the snake toward Lord Voldemort. He didn't have time to listen to the gasps of surprise from behind him.
"Bad move Harry," Voldemort hissed. "You forget that I too have that gift." Harry used Voldemort's distraction to send another hex at him. "Diffindo!" It seemed to work for an instant. A cut opened on Voldemort's arm but it soon closed. Harry realized that he had awakened the beast. "Now we begin." Voldemort's voice was a mixture of venom, annoyance, amusement and, dare it be said, fear. Harry made sure he stayed in between his family and Voldemort.
Harry muttered something to the snake who darted to Voldemort. Voldemort hissed back but the snake, thank goodness, decided that Harry's orders were the first thing on the brain. Voldemort, for once, seemed completely confused by the snake's lack of obedience. Harry used Voldemort's conundrum to strike again. "Furnunculus!" The spell seemed to work. Small, red boils popped over Voldemort's body like little ants were trying to push their way through his skin. Voldemort let out a little shriek allowing the snake to sink its teeth into Voldemort's foot. Harry almost did a little jig of self adulation-big mistake.
Voldemort might have been taken for a moment but only a moment. With stupendous rancor, Voldemort yelled "Crucio!" a pain such as Harry had never felt before (he had of course forgotten the same pain felt the previous summer) surged through his body, bringing him to his knees. From his lips a groan of pain split. He vaguely heard Tom let out a sob and Voldemort, a sadistic cackle. The moments blurred together but all Harry could feel or sense was that black pain. He became the pain-black and surging.
Then, from that inky blackness he heard Voldemort hiss "Crucio". The pain left him-shivering on the ground. It took a moment to realize why he no longer was in pain. He was jerked from his perplexity by the shriek of poor Abby. His head reeled to where she had been huddling. Her body was contorted and her face was the picture of torture.
"STOP NOW!" Harry ran toward Voldemort and threw his arms around the "man's" arms, stopping the curse. Voldemort smiled
"So I see your weakness now, your dear little sister."
"TAKE ME, TAKE ME INSTEAD!" Harry pleaded.
"Fine, but only because I know once you're dead I can do anything I want to anyone I want." Harry heard Tom scurry over to Abby who was unconscious on the floor. Voldemort uttered the fatal words again and the pain came like a gift to Harry who took it gladly. Silently he begged Tom to get Abby out.
Gradually, Harry grew numb to everything; he felt his mind fade in and out of animation. He felt his eyelids close and his mind grew fuzzy. He hardly noticed when the pain stopped. He never did know what happened…….(no, I'm not that mean).
Tom and Harrison sat beside the bed, sterile white. Their son lay on the bed, white as a ghost, white as everything around him. His black hair seemed dull against the pillowcase. Occasionally he would give a shudder or a moan but nothing more. Abby was okay, she had woken only a couple hours after the battle. She was staying with some friends as Harrison and Tom spent all of their time at the hospital. Beside Harry's bed lay the man who had saved his life.
The man was pale and sunken. His hair was long, black as pitch and lay in oily clumps. His and Harry's breathing seemed to have sermonized. Neither of Harry's two parents uttered a word. They only gazed at their sweet baby-now hero. 'How could he have kept so much from them?' they often wondered. They fixed their eyes on him-watching for some form of life, some piece of him as they had known. No breath, no twitch escaped them for it was their secret fear that it would be his last movement.
The healers didn't have much hope. He had been badly hurt-no one had suffered the Cruciatus Curse for so long and lived. Whatever this curse had been-Tom had watched it, unable to do a thing. Dumbledore had filled them in as much as he could. Their baby, hero of the world. His shoulders looked broader, his chin more noble.
"Tom, Harrison," they looked up. A plump, red haired lady stood in the doorway; her face was ashen and she was ringing her hands.
"What is it Molly?" Harrison croaked.
"I-I brought a casserole," with her wand she brought a steaming dish into the room. "I know-I know how hard it is to wait and wait. I saw you hadn't been eating and-oh I'm so sorry." Tom smiled weakly.
"Thank you Molly. How's Arthur?"
"He's getting better. I was visiting him upstairs. Um, well, I feel so awful asking but-well Ron and Hermione-"
"They should come and visit Harry," Harrison finished. She smiled widely and nodded. Gingerly, she placed the casserole on the bedside table.
"Is Sirius all right?"
"I think he and Harry are in about the same boat," Harrison replied. The Sirius thing was throwing him for a loop. He had never met the guy in his life and apparently he was hugely important in Harry's life.
More days past and new stories of Voldemort's wrath spread like wildfire. A universal call for Harry was sounded but their hero lay, nearly dead, in a hospital bed at St. Mungo's. That is, until one day. Harrison and Tom had fallen asleep-their heads at odd angles and their feet propped up on the hospital bed. Harry's eyes flickered open in the early morning sun. His sight was blurred and he reached around for his glasses.
Looking around, he sufficed he was not in the church any longer. He began muttering to himself-waking his parents. They sat in amazement for a moment before both throwing their arms around Harry. "Where is he, where is he?" Harry garbled against Tom's shirt-sleeves.
"Where's who sweet?" Harrison asked, tearing up.
"Voldemort, where is he? Where's Abby, where am I?"
"Harry calm down. You're at St. Mungo's, Abby is with Steve and Terrence, Voldemort, well I don't know where he is."
"What happened, what happened," Harry didn't look like he was going to be doing any "calming down". His head twisted in all directions, trying to take in information from the very hospital room itself.
"Harry," Harrison barked authoritatively. "If you don't calm down we will have to call the healers. We almost lost you and I'm not about to let you die of a heart attack." Harry breathed deeply.
"Is everyone okay?" he asked tentatively ,trying to keep himself contained.
"Abby's fine. Some people, I think they called themselves the Order or something, came right after you blacked out. A guy named Sirius started battling this Voldemort guy and.."
"Where's Sirius?" Harry asked worriedly. Tom pointed to Sirius's bed and Harry turned. He gasped and a tear rolled down his cheek. "Is he, is he-"
"Dead? No, he's still alive."
"Is he alright?"
"We don't know; the healers said they didn't have much hope for you so anything can happen." Harry tried to stand up only to be pushed back down by Tom's hand.
"Harry, you can't worry about everything yourself. Being the hero almost killed you."
"What happened exactly after I blacked out?"
"Well, Sirius started fighting Voldemort. Then, after Sirius collapsed, Dumbledore showed and Voldemort fled before anything else could be done. Mediwizards came and brought Sirius, you, and Abby to St. Mungo's. The minister of magic came and-"
"Oh no! I totally forgot about Sirius. What's going to happen?" Tom shrugged. "This is terrible," Harry sighed miserably, burying his head in his hands.
"Harry, it isn't your fault," Harrison said, putting a reassuring hand on Harry's shoulder. Harry blubbered like a baby.
"You're wrong," Harry choked out through his tears.
"It is my fault, all my fault. If I had just run away like I was going to then nothing would have happened. It's me Voldemort wants; I should just give myself up."
"Harry Potter Barkler!" Tom said, his voice taking on an angry sharpness. "Don't you ever say anything like that again! If you ran away what would happen? As much as I hate to say it, you're the only hero, the only one who can right this wrong. It is not your fault, but, from what I hear, it is your responsibility. You're the only one who can defeat him. You're the only one who can make this world safe. I never saw it before, I never saw how strong you had become. You have to stay strong or everything will go to hell."
Harry sat back. The fact that everything was on his shoulders was less scary than before. Perhaps it was because he had changed from the perpetrator to the hero. He vowed to himself then and there that he would valiant. He would do his family proud and make the world safe for his children, for his sister, for Ginny. Wait, what was that? Why did he think Ginny? His children, his sister, they all made sense but Ginny? Why Ginny?
Never the less, Harry turned his head to the window. He gazed at the bright, shining sun and set his face in grim determination. Voldemort would pay.
