A/N: o.O Wow. I've been away for a while, and I just went and looked at all the reviews I got for my last chapter. What can I say? Thank you all so much! I'm so glad people love this story. And there's some interesting theories out there about Jason. None of which I'm going to either confirm or deny. I will say that there's only two more chapters to go before your questions are answered. I'll try and get them out soonish.
Anyway, since I got so many great reviews, I'm not going to respond to them, much as I would like to.
Read and enjoy chapter twelve…
Chapter Twelve:
The students of Hogwarts slept late the next day, recouping the energy Harry had siphoned from them the night before. Such was their lethargy that it took until almost lunch for Draco and Blaise to recall the ceiling collapse in the dungeon, and for the five friends to connect that with Harry's absence. Not long after that, the quintet had shaken the stupor in their dash to the Headmaster's office.
Dumbledore smiled tiredly at them, and assured them Harry was okay. He refused, however, to tell them where he was, or what had happened, instead ushering them towards the Great Hall, where he promised everything would be explained to the school.
In the Great Hall, the other students were beginning to realize something had happened: the prefects had been told to ensure that all their housemates were in the Great Hall for lunch and the Slytherins had spread the story of the rubble in the dungeon hallways.
The Hall quieted as Dumbledore entered, herding Hermione, Ron, Dean, Draco and Blaise ahead of him. Giving them a final reassuring smile, Dumbledore gestured them to seats at the Ravenclaw table. The Ravenclaws made room for them and the group meekly sat down, turning their attention back to Dumbledore as the headmaster needlessly called for silence.
"By now I'm sure you've all noticed something amiss. The corridor ceiling by the Potions classroom has collapsed, and I'm sure many of you have noticed the epidemic tiredness," Dumbledore raised his voice over the murmurs of agreement, "They are both symptoms of the same situation, and I am pleased to be able to say that it is a happy one."
The murmuring rose in volume, but was abruptly cut by Dumbledore's voice.
"Voldemort…" he paused dramatically, and everybody in the room turned wide-eyed to him. The old wizard smiled, "Voldemort no longer poses a threat to the Wizarding World – or indeed to anyone – anymore."
If Dumbledore had been expecting wild cheers, he was sadly disappointed. The students stared disbelievingly at him. No few faces were pale, and many jaws were hanging open. The headmaster smiled behind his beard, and the twinkle lit in his eyes.
"Once again we owe a deep debt of gratitude to your fellow student, Harry Potter. Last night, during Harry's detention with Professor Snape, Voldemort launched a mental attack on him, intending harm to his child. However, Voldemort failed to take into account neither Harry's overwhelming desire to protect his child, nor his unique abilities."
Dumbledore looked around at the silent, shocked crowd. His gaze stopped on Harry's closest friends and he nodded to them. Hermione smiled bravely back and Draco solemnly returned his nod.
"In his desperation to protect his daughter, Harry nearly drained himself of magic. He sent the magic down the link between his mind and Voldemort's. When that considerable power proved not enough, Harry began to gather magic from his surroundings. He effectively made a temporary magicless desert of the Potions classroom. When he ran out of power there, and Voldemort still wasn't defeated to his satisfaction, Harry extended his reach and began to take the magic from Hogwarts stones themselves. This resulted in the collapse of the dungeon corridor ceiling, and when Professor Snape tried to move Harry from the danger zone, Harry latched onto a new, and much more abundant source of power: life. He drained Professor Snape almost as badly as he had himself, and he took a considerable amount of my own power. He then reached out the four Houses and took from you all what magic you could spare.
"Harry channeled this huge store of raw magic through himself and into Voldemort. The overload of power destroyed Voldemort's mind, and all that remains of him now is a barely-alive husk.
"The power that Voldemort's shattered mind did not absorb backwashed into Harry's mind, and I'm sorry to say that he is very weak at the moment. Nothing that a few days quiet bed rest shouldn't cure, however." Dumbledore smiled cheerily around at the still silent hall. His expression turned more serious.
"On the heels of that good news, I must caution you all: while Voldemort has been incapacitated, his Death Eaters have not been. You cannot let yourselves believe that the world is once again a safe place. However, I do not doubt that, in the disorder brought about by the loss of their leader, we shall not have much trouble rounding up his followers. They will be much disheartened at the news that, effectively, Voldemort is dead!" Dumbledore deliberately let his voice ring triumphantly through the hall at his last words. It worked, shaking the students from their stupor and, starting with Ron and Dean, an exultant cheer spread quickly through the hall. Soon after, chaos reined in the hall as the students left their tables to seek out friends in other houses, all exclaiming and no few weeping. Dumbledore prevented the other Professors from trying to restore order, and when the meal finally appeared, it was a feast worthy of Hallowe'en and the jugs were full of Butterbeer.
The impromptu celebration carried on into the early afternoon before it was cut abruptly short by the arrival of Cornelius Fudge, the Minister of Magic, and a phalanx of aurors. The students were quickly ushered out of the Great Hall by their respective Heads of House, Professor Sinistra taking charge of the Slytherins in Snape's absence.
Hermione tried to use her position as Head Girl to find out what exactly was going on, but she was turned away at the gargoyle by Professor McGonagall with assurances that the students would be told all they needed to know.
The five of them tried to get into the hospital wing to see Harry, but Madam Pomfery insisted they would simply set back his recovery and told them they could see him when - and only when - she deemed him well enough.
It was fortunate that much of the next three days was a weekend; all function ceased at Hogwarts - and indeed, in the Wizarding World at large - as the news spread that Voldemort was dealt with once and for all. And by their favourite hero Harry Potter.
The controversy stirred by the news of Harry's pregnancy was quickly forgotten in the new flush of worship from the Wizarding Public. Hogwarts was under siege by well-wishers for their young hero. The owlery was full of foreign birds delivering packages of all kinds at all hours. Professor McGonagall had to delegate six of the prefects simply to deal with it all. The other eighteen prefects were kept as equally busy keeping watch over their fellow students and patrolling the school's grounds for breaches in the wards, trying to keep erstwhile reporters and well-wishers out, and over-excited students in.
Every spare moment Draco, Ron and Hermione had, they spent outside the infirmary, waiting for Madam Pomfery to let them in, or at least give them an update. Dean and Blaise had set up an almost permanent watch there, with the intermittent company from Harry's other friends. Madam Pomfery allowed none them even a glimpse of Harry's bed.
Harry slept through it all. When he did wake, early in the morning four days later, he bolted upright, screaming at the sensation of pain. He thrust the light blanket off him as it abraded too harshly. Immediately the blanket fell off him, Harry started shivering violently despite the sweat coating his limbs.
When the curtains about his bed rattled open and flooded it with light, Harry, despite the pain it caused him, buried his head in his pillow to escape the agony in his eyes. Painful hands tried to turn him, and Harry didn't the strength to resist them. He flopped onto his back.
Voices rumbled echoingly above them, but only snatches made it through his haze: "…too much…" "…sensitive…" "…light…" None of it made any sense to him, but Harry was grateful when the light was dimmed to a more bearable level.
Then the hands were back, prickling across his burning forehead, pulling up his eyelids, feeling for his pulse. Harry tried to squirm away from them, but the movement rubbed his back painful on the bedclothes.
The voices were buzzing annoyingly again: "…is he..?" "…recovery… …slowed by the…"
The hands lifted his head at a painful angle and pushed something against his mouth. Bitter liquid spilled between his slack lips and Harry swallowed to avoid choking. The potion rushed icily down his throat, freezing him from the inside out, leaving behind a barrier separating Harry from the pain. He started shivering again.
The hands retrieved the blanket he had discarded, cast a warming charm on it (Harry felt the tingle of magic painfully) and spread it over him again. Harry tried to curl up on his side, but the hands wouldn't let him. They held him on his back and started probing his belly.
"… how long…" "…don't… … weeks…" "… then…" "…what about… … the baby…?"
Baby, Harry thought hazily. That should mean something to him… The hands pressed at his abdomen again, and Harry remembered. Baby! His baby! He couldn't feel her! There was something wrong!
Harry slapped aside the hands on him and sat up, desperately clutching his distended belly.
My baby! he tried to scream, but only managed a mumble.
The hands wrapped around his shoulders and tried to get him to lie back down. Harry shrugged them off and huddled tighter about his unborn child. The voices were calling to him, he vaguely knew, but they didn't matter; only his unmoving child did.
"…Harry… …listen to… …she's… …not hurt… …Harry… …'s okay… …Harry…" In desperation, the hands grabbed hold of his and pressed them into his belly, using magic to feel out the child.
It hurt, the power flowing through his hands, but it didn't matter because he could feel her, he could feel his baby again, and she was okay, she was alive, and everything was alright, they were safe and she was alive and okay, it was all okay, she was fine…
Harry heaved a dry sob in relief and let his shoulders sag, still clutching at the ethereal proof that his daughter was unharmed. The hands pushed him back down and he let them this time, content to wrap his arms protectively over his child and let the darkness take him again.
The next time Harry woke, Sirius was sitting by his bed. He could tell, because he could smell him. He smelt like ginger, and sweat, and - just vaguely - like wet dog. Sirius was stroking Harry's hand where it lay on the blanket; his rough fingers felt like sandpaper across a raw wound on Harry's sensitive skin.
Harry snatched his hand back and threw off his blankets, which likewise abraded him. He promptly shivered. "Sir'us," he muttered.
He heard the scrabble of wood as Sirius picked up his wand.
"Lu-" Sirius started, but realizing what he was about to cast, Harry batted at Sirius's wand, mumbling "Nnnn…"
Sirius pulled his wand out of reach and pressed Harry's hand back down with his free one, "It's just for a moment, Harry. Madam Pomfery said I had to give you a potion if you woke up. Close your eyes tight."
Harry scrunched his eyes closed, but even so when Sirius cast his light spell it still bruised Harry's retinas. He turned his head away. There was a clinking of glassware, and the sound of liquid being poured; then Sirius cupped Harry's cheek and doused the light.
Harry wanted to jerk away from the painful touch, but he held still as Sirius rested his thumb against his lips and guided the cup to his
mouth. Harry shivered again as he swallowed the potion and it spread its barrier of ice through his body.
Sirius set down the cup and pulled Harry's blankets up around his
Shoulders again. He sat back and lit his wand again. This time there was a barrier of ice between Harry and the pain.
"There," Sirius said, "That's better, isn't it?"
Harry glared near-sightedly at him.
"Hey, don't look at me like that!" Sirius protested. "There's a very
Good reason I'm not a medi-wizard: absolutely no bedside manner."
Harry's mind was starting to clear a little after the potion. He shook it at his godfather and sat up further.
"Wha're you doin' 'ere?" he slurred.
"I came to visit my favourite godson because he's landed himself in the hospital again," Sirius deadpanned.
"'M yer on'y godson."
Sirius smiled, "All the more reason to make sure you haven't killed
yourself."
Harry snorted.
"But… isn't it dange'ous?"
Sirius grinned triumphantly, "Not anymore!"
Harry blinked owlishly at him, "Huh?"
"Since you destroyed Voldemort and Wormtail t -"
"What?" Harry gaped at his godfather.
Sirius paused in his exuberance, "Don't you remember? You defeated Voldemort."
"-Killed 'im?" Harry asked, struggling to remember.
"Well. Not quite." Sirius shook his head. "You really don't remember defeating Voldemort?" he asked again, and then answered his own question, "I guess not. Dumbledore said he invaded your mind and -"
… And Harry remembered that. His hand stole to his pregnant belly and covered it protectively. "He was gonna hurt m'baby."
Sirius sobered at that. "Yes," he agreed slowly, "so you gathered all the magic you could reach and poured it into Voldemort's head and burnt him out. You burnt yourself too: that's why you're still so sensitive to everything. At least…" he paused, looking a little uncertain, "That's what Dumbledore and Pomfery say happened."
Sirius leant forward and grasped Harry's arm through the blanket, "Now you're an even bigger hero than you were before." - Sirius didn't seem to notice when Harry's eyes narrowed - "Reporters have been trying to get in to see you ever since Dumbledore broke the news. They almost had a guard up here, but Madam Pomfery said she wouldn't have anyone throwing dangerous hexes in her infirmary.
"There's been thousands of letters too, and presents. And Hogsmeade is full of people wanting to get a glimpse of you. They'd be in the castle too, if Dumbledore hadn't warded the gates. He won't even let the Ministry officials in without someone to escort them: Fudge keeps saying that the public has a right to see their hero."
Harry scowled, "'M not their hero."
Sirius sighed sadly on Harry's behalf and stroked his arm, "I know you hate it, Harry; all that attention -"
Harry jerked away from him.
"Hey!" Sirius said, grasping his shoulder, "I'm not mocking you Harry. I know what it's like to have people scrutinizing everything about your life."
Harry calmed down and Sirius patted his shoulder reassuringly, "I'll tell you what. Once Pettigrew's trial is over, and I've been acquitted -"
"Pettigrew?" Harry interrupted him.
Sirius beamed, "Pettigrew turned himself in! He just turned up at the Ministry three days ago and said he wanted to give himself up. Kingsley managed to get assigned to guard him, and they questioned him under Veritaserum. He had to admit to being the one to betray Lily and James! Now the Ministry has to acquit me. I'm free Harry!"
Harry lurched upright and wrapped his arms around his godfather's neck. Sirius hugged him tightly back.
"Once Pettigrew's trial is over," Sirius mumbled into his hair, "and I'm free again, we'll go away. How does that sound? The Order can have Grimmuald Place, and you and me and baby, we'll just leave," Sirius continued, "and move to Indian. We could live in forests like that boy, what was his name, with the wolves?"
"Mowgli," Harry mumbled.
"That's it," Sirius agreed, "Mowgli. Shere-Kahn is dead now, so we'll be safe wherever we go. It'll be just you and me, Mowgli and Baloo. Well, at least until baby arrives. Bagheera will be able to visit whenever he feels like it too, but who'd want to live with such a stick in the mud," Sirius winked to show he meant no malice.
Harry smiled weakly at him. His smile faded, "But what about Kha?"
"What about him? You won't need to worry about Kha, Harry. He'll be here at Hogwarts while we're half way around the world from him." Sirius patted Harry's hand reassuringly and stood up. "I have to leave now. Pettigrew's trail starts tomorrow, and I have to be there."
Harry nodded and closed his eyes tiredly. "Good luck," he whispered. Sirius left and Madam Pomfery came and forced a dose of the ice potion upon Harry. With the pain blocked, Harry placidly let the mediwitch replace the covers he had thrown off when he'd hugged Sirius. She smoothed the sweaty hair from Harry's brow, and left, drawing the bed curtains closed behind her.
The next time Harry woke, Madam Pomfery allowed Ron and Hermione – "But only you two, not the rest of your cohort. He doesn't need you lot getting him all worked up." – in to visit him.
"Hey mate," Ron grinned, and managed to clap Harry on the shoulder before Hermione shoved him out of the way and enveloped Harry in a rib-cracking hug. "We were so worried about you Harry."
Harry gasped for air, and was grateful Pomfery had given him the ice-potion before letting his friends in. He batted feebly at Hermione's back, but she didn't get the idea until Ron pulled on her shoulder. "You're squashing him, Hermione."
"Oops," Hermione instantly let him go and stepped back, grinning sheepishly, "Sorry about that Harry."
She settled on the edge of his bed, and Ron seated himself in the chair beside them.
"You can blame it on Dean, Blaise and Ginny," the Head Girl continued, "they weren't allowed in to see you, so they made me promise to give you a hug from them."
"S'ok," Harry mumbled, "Can't feel anythin' 'n'way. 'S the ice."
Ron blinked at him, "What ice, Harry?"
Harry waved his hand towards the bedside table on which stood the empty mug that had held his ice-potion. "Ma'am Pomfery gave me a potion. 'S icy."
"Vallum inexcrucio," Hermione said, garnering a blank look from Ron. "It's the name of the potion. It means… um… 'barrier against pain'. It's what the medi-witches and –wizards give to people that have been under the Cruciatus curse. Supposedly the drinker experiences an ice-like sensation throughout his or her body. It doesn't actually remove the pain; it just allows the subject to distance him- or herself from it."
"Yuh," Harry agreed idly, "Th' ice potion."
Ron guffawed. Hermione treated them both to a long-suffering sigh, but a small smile danced around her lips. Then her expression turned serious.
"So what actually happened that night, Harry?" Ron shut up immediately and leant forward, eager to hear Harry's answer. Harry wearily dragged a hand over his face. His eyes still hidden, he said, "He tried to attack my baby."
Hermione gasped and grabbed Harry's wrist tightly, "Is she okay?"
Harry nodded, "Yeah, Madam Pomfery says she's fine. I was worried that I wouldn't have enough magic left to sustain her, but Dumbledore said that I instinctively retained just enough for her to be safe."
"But how'd it happen, Harry? Dumbledore wouldn't say all that much," Ron persisted.
Harry shook his wrist loose of Hermione's grip. He pushed himself into a more upright position against his pillows and proceeded to tell his two best friends just what Voldemort had done and what he said to Harry.
"… and now Ma'am Pomfery says that I should be able to leave here in about a week. I'll be moving into my new rooms straight' away, though," Harry finished tiredly, slumping down again. Ron looked appropriately disgusted and though Hermione was pale, she predictably wondered what Voldemort had originally intended to do had he ever gotten his hands on Harry. Harry just shook his head and asked if they could talk about something else.
"We've all been real worried about you," Ron piped up, "Blaise and Gin have even called something of a truce."
"I, for one, hope that they'll keep it even after Harry's well again," Hermione interjected. "It's so much easier to study without those two bickering over Ron."
Ron flushed, "They don't bicker over me!"
"They do," Harry chuckled weakly, "You've always been Gin's protector and now with Blaise around, she…" Harry trailed off as, over Ron's shoulder, he saw the infirmary door inch open. He could see Draco's blonde head down near the knob as he poked his head around the corner. And over his shoulder, Harry saw Blaise and Ginny - arm in arm. And Blaise had blue hair. Harry blinked.
"Harry?" Hermione asked, concerned. "Are you alright?"
Harry tore his eyes away just as Ginny raised her hand and waved. "Huh? Yeah, 'm fine. 'S just… that's more than a truce, isn't it?"
Ron looked at him, "What do you mean?"
"Well," Harry flapped a hand towards the doorway, where Blaise was showing Blaise how to produce harmless fireworks, "Blaise has dyed her hair blue and is teaching Ginny tricks."
Ron and Hermione stared at him, and turned to look towards the door.
"Harry," Hermione said slowly, "What are you talking about?"
Harry looked at the door too. It was closed. He frowned, "Draco had the door open. Blaise and Ginny were there. I saw Blaise's hair."
Hermione peered closely into Harry's face.
"What?" he exclaimed. She just shook her head and shuffled closer to him, pressing her hand against his forehead. He pushed it away, "What are you doing?"
"Are you sure you're feeling okay, mate?" Ron said, looking at him strangely.
"I'm fine!" Harry insisted, "What's with you two?"
"Draco is at quidditch practice, Harry," Hermione said.
"And the truce between Ginny and Blaise doesn't even go as far as them talking," Ron continued.
Harry stared at them disbelievingly. "I just saw them! Draco opened the door, and Blaise had blue hair and she and Ginny were arm in arm."
Hermione opened her mouth to say something and snapped it shut. She opened it again, but didn't say anything. Ron just stared at him.
"What?!" Harry demanded, "I saw them!"
"Harry," Ron said, "I don't think-"
Before he could finish his sentence, Madam Pomfery bustled over carrying a beaker of potion.
"That's long enough, you two. Harry needs to get his rest." She shooed Hermione off the bed and lifted the beaker to Harry's lips. Harry obediently swallowed the sedative and lay back down. "Bye 'Mione, Ron," he muttered, the potion already working.
Before the potion could put him completely under he heard Hermione talking to the medi-witch:
"Is Harry okay, Madam Pomfery?"
There was a rattle as the matron closed the curtains around Harry's bed, "It's nothing to worry about, dear. He's just suffering some hallucinations."
"Will he be okay?" Ron asked.
"Of course he will be. It's just a side effect of the overload of magic energy he suffered."
Harry woke to darkness. Someone was supporting his head and holding a beaker to his lips. Harry dutifully swallowed the by now familiar mix of Vallum Inexcrucio and a sedative potion. Harry blinked drowsily as the two potions kicked in and he let his head loll when the supporting hand was taken away. It was taking him longer to fall asleep this time, and he wondered if Madam Pomfery had reduced his dosage.
A long moment later, long after he would have succumbed under the usual dosage, someone picked up his hand in his own, and Harry knew he was weaving reality and fantasy again, because he could smell Jason, that odd combination of sage and sandalwood. And he couldn't bring himself to open his eyes; couldn't bring himself to dispel the fragile illusion that Jason was there with him, that he actually cared.
So Harry let himself believe that the person beside his bed was Jason. It was easy: Jason didn't say anything, just sat rubbing the back of Harry's hand with his thumbs, and Harry filled his lungs with his scent. He couldn't actually remember Jason ever being so quietly comforting towards him. Harry sighed wistfully. The thumbs paused. Harry decided that his mind had conjured Jason to comfort him.
Harry sighed again. The person holding his hand freed one of his own and rubbed his arm soothingly. The other resumed the caress on the back of Harry's hand. Harry frowned sadly and tightened his hand around it. The caress stopped again. The hand tightened briefly around his and let go.
Jason's scent intensified as Harry felt his visitor lean over him. There was a soft press of lips and a lingering caress on his swollen stomach, and then another small kiss on his forehead, beside his scar. Then Jason was gone and Harry's frown deepened. He bit his lip and, curling on his side, he drew the hand that Jason had held up under his chin. He cursed his fevered brain for its hallucinations, because it hurt to imagine Jason there, and know he wasn't.