Chapter 5: The Recovery
Disclaimer: Obviously I don't own the characters, places, and otherwise magical things in this story as you do not see and copyright signs nor any things saying "Harry Potter characters, names and related indicia… blabitty blah." This story was not written by JKR and is therefore not as cool nor as profitable.
Harry was lying on the floor of number 12 Grimmauld Place. He was unconscious. Around him were other injured members of the Order. Tonks lay next to Harry, clutching her leg. Mrs. Weasley sat next to her, wrapped in a blanket, her cheek cut and teeth chattering despite the fact that it was very warm in the room. She had a face creased with worry. Molly was staring at Harry Potter, eyes filled with unshed tears.
"We should get him to a bed, Remus." She said, looking up at Lupin.
"You're right. I'll move him. Ron, will you help me?" The flame-haired boy stood up, feeling sick as he looked at his unresponsive friend.
Lupin pointed his wand at Harry, muttering "Wingardium Leviosa," At once, he lowered it, horrified. Harry began twitching and seizing as soon as the spell hit him. He shuddered and convulsed, his body hitting the hard floor over and over again. Ron rushed to his side, holding him down.
"What's wrong with him?" he asked with concern in his eyes.
"He's having a fit, I guess. It could be from fever or the Cruciatus Curse." Though Lupin said it, he was not quite sure if it was true. "I suppose we'll wait it out and then move him."
Harry heard voices but could not register what they were saying. His wand arm was in so much pain. Muscles he didn't know he had were shaking. He reached up to touch his burning scar. Harry quickly opened his eyes as he felt hands push his body to the floor.
"What?" he half-whispered and half-moaned.
"Oh! Sorry, mate. Guess you're not having a fit this time, eh?
"What happened?" Harry coughed. His chest felt as if it were split open when he talked. He groaned.
"You kept having fits when we tried to move you. What else is wrong? What hurts? Besides your arm, though. We know about that and we're working on it. What else is wrong, Harry?" This time it was Remus speaking. Pain blinded Harry yet again, but he managed to whisper
"Chest. Head." He coughed hard and pain shot through his whole body. It hurt so much. Everything hurt.
"Your chest hurts?" Remus asked. Harry nodded, causing more discomfort. Remus ripped Harry's T-shirt off of his chest. Ron gasped. Mrs. Weasley made a screeching noise. Harry looked down at himself. There was a huge gash starting at his left shoulder and continuing to his right side. It was deep, very deep. "Somebody get Poppy Pomfrey - soon."
Kinsley Shacklebolt stood immediately and walked briskly out of the house without a word. Harry blinked blood out of his eyes and then shut them tightly. He lay on the cold stone floor, silently suffering.
After a few minutes Madam Pomfrey strode rapidly through the door.
"Potter, you don't see enough of me in school? Miss me so much that you make me come and see you in the summ-" She stopped short, catching sight of the bloodied mess that was Harry. His limp, sweaty body took her breath away. The nurse quickly knelt beside him.
"He keeps having seizures when we move him" Remus said hurriedly.
"Did You-Know-Who touch him?"
"Yes, Professor Dumbledore said he did." Ron replied.
Madam Pomfrey appeared in Harry's vision. She informed him that what she was about to do may hurt a bit. She waved her wand in an arc over his chest. Harry grimaced, she had been right, it did hurt.
"What else is wrong, Potter?" Harry took a deep breath, breathing fully for the first time since he had awakened.
"My arm…cruciatus…not stopping." He managed to say through clenched teeth. For his whole attention was now focused on his arm and the pain seemed to have doubled.
The woman looked his arm over carefully. Harry winced when she touched him. "Well, there's not much we can do for this. Pain potion will just make it worse. The best thing we can do is let it run its course and let you sleep through some of it. Alright, what else is injured?"
Harry couldn't feel anything else wrong. He shook his head, indicating nothing. Ron got up from the table where he was seated.
"Where's all that blood coming from? There, on his face, what's it from?"
Sure enough, all of a sudden Harry noticed red liquid in his eyes and dripping down his forehead. He blinked to clear his vision, but soon more blood came gushing down over his eyes and glasses, making Madam Pomfrey's face red. With a flick of her wand, the blood stopped flowing. Another wave and all of it remaining on his face was gone.
"Let's get you into bed, shall we? Weasley, I don't want to use anymore magic on him now. Could you bring him up? He'll be alright if you touch him now."
"No, I'll take him," said Remus, every syllable conveying a determined manner.
Harry would have been embarrassed that his friend was carrying him up the stairs like a small child, but he was too disoriented and delusional with pain to care.
Ron placed Harry on a bed gently. He pulled the blankets over him and sat down in a chair next to the bed. Madam Pomfrey bustled into the room, talking out a bottle of purple potion from her bag.
"Drink this. It's a potion for dreamless sleep. Drink it all now." Harry allowed the woman to hold the bottle to his mouth. He swallowed the fluid and immediately the lights in the room flickered and he slipped into a deep sleep.
Harry awoke, groaning. Pain shot through every muscle in his body. His arm felt as if it were about to fall off. In fact, he thought it would be less painful to just chop it off. Harry opened his eyes and clutched his wounded limb. Writhing under the sheets he saw a chair next to the side table. On the table, a Chudley Cannons book lay open, undoubtedly Ron's. The door opened and Ron strode into the room.
"Oy! Sorry, mate. I went to the loo for a moment. I'm supposed to give you another potion to make you sleep. Bloody hell, you look horrible!" Ron exclaimed. Harry just moaned. Ron gave him his potion and Harry was glad to feel nothing as waves of dreamless sleep washed over his fatigued body.
Harry awoke many times from then on. Every moment that he was alert there was someone beside his bed, ready to give him his potion. Mrs. Weasley thanked him before he fell asleep. Harry had tried to say he was sorry, but he couldn't muster enough strength to move his lips.
Things went like that for a long while. Harry slept, Harry woke up, someone gave him the potion, and he slept once again.
Harry sensed movement above him. His arm hurt less than it had before, but still an incredible amount. He grimaced, opening his eyes as a burst of pain erupted through his arm. Ginny was sitting on the edge of the bed with a glassy look in her eyes. It looked as though she had been - was it crying? Harry looked up expectantly.
"Potion?" he asked. Ginny's eyes softened even more.
"No, Harry. I'm sorry. Madam Pomfrey said that you should be up by now. You've been asleep for four days already! How're you feeling?"
"I'm fine" Harry lied. He took a deep breath, wondering what exactly had happened to make him hurt so much.
"Oh, shut up, you prat. You are not fine. You're trying not to scream right now. I see it on your face. I know you, Harry. You're not fine." Ginny stared meaningfully in his eyes. She conveyed one message: He wasn't going to pull the wool over her eyes. Harry smiled slightly.
"Okay, okay. So it hurts like hell. Is that what you were looking for?"
"Yes, Mr. I-Pretend-I'm-Invincible-Even-When-I-Should-Be-Complaining, it is what I'm looking for." Harry chuckled, and then winced, as laughing sent his nerve cells in frenzy. "I'll be right back. I promised Ron and Hermione that I'd tell them when you woke up."
Harry nodded as Ginny stood up and left the room. Soon, Ron walked in, followed by Ginny and Hermione.
"Oh, Harry!" cried Hermione, rocking from heel to toe, looking relieved and intrigued at the same time.
"Hey. How are you?" asked Ron.
"According to your sister, I'm not allowed to say fine." Harry looked at Ginny, who was grinning.
"He feels like rubbish." She said matter-of-factly. Hermione and Ron sat down; both had worried looks on their faces.
"I really am okay. It just hurts a bit, that's all." Ginny rolled her eyes at Harry, causing everyone to laugh. Ginny had that gift, Harry found himself thinking. She had the ability to make people laugh in any situation. "How's your mom?" Harry asked both Weasleys.
"She's okay, a little shaken up, but fine. She just had a few scratches that she took care of right away."
"And everyone else? Dumbledore? Tonks, Lupin, Dung? What about Kingsley and your dad?" Harry was suddenly exploding with questions and uncertainties. A lump formed in his throat. Were they okay? Please, please let them have been okay.
"Tonks hurt her leg, but she's alright now. Dung somehow had a flower growing out of his ear, but we took it off," declared Hermione, as if flowers grew out of ears every day.
"Well, we didn't let him know at first. Kept asking why we all laughed when he went by." Ron added
"Otherwise, everyone's fine." Ginny finished.
Harry let out a sigh of relief. He lay back and looked at the ceiling, then sprang bolt upright. He didn't recognize the bed he was in. It wasn't the one he usually slept in when he was at Grimmauld Place. He looked around, an odd feeling in his stomach.
"Where are we?" Harry asked, his voice cracking somewhat. He needn't have asked the question. He knew exactly where he was.
"Oh, Harry! I'm sorry. It was the only place we could put you. I-" stammered Hermione, "It- I'm so sorry." Harry was mortified. He was lying in a bed in Sirius' room. He was in Sirius' bed. There was Sirius' chair. Sirius had been in this very room. He had been there, but now he wouldn't be again, ever.
Harry pinched the bridge of his nose, just above his glasses. He took a deep breath and exhaled for as long as he could. Sirius was gone. He was gone and there was nothing Harry could do about it. The room seemed far away. His friends seemed as though they were behind an opaque wall of unshed tears. The sadness surrounded Harry but someone was calling out to him, pushing aside the barrier of grief.
"Harry? Harry!" It was Ginny. "Are you okay? You look weird. Listen, we, er, well," Ginny faltered.
"His room?" Harry asked in a whisper. He said it to no one in particular, as if he was asking the universe why it was so cruel as to lead him there.
"You know-" Ron started.
"We are-" Hermione began at the same time.
"Do you-" Ginny said along with the others.
Harry raised his left hand, silencing his friends. "No. It's okay." He said firmly, answering their unfinished questions. But Harry wasn't really sure that it was okay. He wasn't positive that being in his dead godfather's room qualified as all right. In truth, Harry wasn't certain that he was okay.
"We're going to clean it out tomorrow, so it's less…you know." Hermione said. Harry knew. She meant less like Sirius, less like when he was here, less painful. They were going to clean so Harry's godfather was easier to forget. He didn't know what to feel. He wanted to forget; it was simple, straightforward. But was wanting to forget right? Was it an insult to the memory of Sirius? Harry's mind tossed and turned. Inside Harry knew he would never forget, new wallpaper or not. He wouldn't forget Sirius or his parents.
"It's okay. I know." He said. Ron and Hermione shot each other a look of…was it relief? So they thought he was going to explode. They had a right to; Harry had done just that last year. But somehow Harry had thought that they too would know that he was beyond anger. Now he had nothing left. He was emotionally exhausted. Harry's capacity for feeling was consumed by sadness and guilt. There was no room for anger anymore. It wasn't as if he hadn't been angry. He had been angry at Sirius for leaving him, angry at Voldemort for choosing him, angry at himself for being so gullible. The wall back in his room at Privet Drive had many a dent in it caused by fury that Harry had been unable to control. Now, though, he was burned out. Harry was lost.
A/N: Kaity445 and Miss Radcliffe rock my socks! Greatest betas ever!