Chapter 58 A Time to Heal

With a crack, the Battle of the Forbidden Forest was over. Voldemort's forces had been eliminated by capture or death, all but Bellatrix LeStrange and the dementors that guarded his headquarters on a rocky outcrop in the North Sea. The forest was now silent of spells, but the evening animals were beginning their chorus. Hagrid was leading the Acromantulas back to their lair as they carried away their booty of giants' corpses. No doubt there would be several minutes before anyone attempted to return to the area. Harry's personal duel with Voldemort had been intense, unlike anything the wizarding world had ever seen before.

Harry had not been surprised that Professor Dumbledore had not intervened. Dumbledore believed that Harry had what he needed to defeat Voldemort, but he also said Harry would know what to do at the right time. That sounded like there was an answer other than fighting, but Harry had not figured it out. All Harry had known to do was fight, and it had not succeeded. Voldemort could see into Harry's mind just as Harry could see into Voldemort's. Harry ought to be exhilarated that he could match wands with the best, but he was simply tired. They were stalemated. Worse, his best friend had taken injuries that ought to kill him.

Harry wondered if the rest of his life would be like this. Rallying troops, making friends, seeing them injured and killed in battle after battle against whatever allies Voldemort had managed to recruit, ending with battling Voldemort to a draw, only to start the cycle all over again. So long as Voldemort survived, he would find opportunists, idealists, and weak-minded people to follow his commands and resume his terror war. Harry knew he was the one who had to oppose him and could never know peace. This was no way to live, thought Harry.

But Harry would have time to think on it later. First he needed to see to Ron. He apparated down the slope to Ron's side. Harry's heart sank, as Ron's chest was wide open and his skull was split open in the back, showing his brain. Ron had vomited blood, and as he shallowly breathed, a bloody bubble rose and sank from his nostril. Harry dropped to his knees and began to cry. Ron, his first friend, the comrade who had fought by his side through so many dangers, the person correctly chosen in the Triwizard tournament as the one Harry would miss most in the world if lost, couldn't possibly make it back to the castle. Apparating would be quick, but put too much stress on Ron's body.

Harry felt he couldn't bear it. He thought how much he loved Ron, how lost he would be without Ron, how much poorer would be the lives of so many others he loved. He would rather take those injuries himself than to have his friend be lost from them. He felt terrible that he had put Ron up to joining this final fight. In his arrogance he thought he could defeat Voldemort, and in trying, he exposed his best friend to horrible danger. "If only those wounds were mine," he thought, "I could die from LeStrange's spell and die in peace, knowing my friends were safe from Voldemort." He prayed more intently than he ever had before that this were so, that he would bear the wounds rather than Ron. He knew it wasn't rational, but it was the only image that came to him. Over and over in his mind he thought how much he loved Ron, how much he wished that he had been the one injured, how much better it would be if he could bear them instead of Ron.

Harry heard Ron shudder and opened his eyes to look. There was a strange green glow around Ron, not the harsh glare of the killing curse, but the intense, merry, bright green of new leaves on an oak tree in the Spring. Harry would have turned to look where it came from, but suddenly his chest and the back of his head were struck with such intense pain it took his breath away. He could barely gasp: his lungs would not respond. The back of his head throbbed in ever-increasing waves of pain, like a rough spike was being hammered into it, until Harry thought he would pass out. And then, after what felt like an hour but couldn't have been more than a couple of minutes, the pain ebbed, quickly, but not as fast as it had come on. As Harry caught his breath, Ron sat up.

"You okay, Harry? You seem pretty fussed."

"Ron!'' Harry yelled, throwing his arms around Ron's shoulders, "you're alive!"

"Not for long at this rate. What are you all up about?" Ron said.

"Don't you remember getting injured, how your chest was cut open?" Harry asked, letting Ron go and rocking back on his ankles.

"Let's see. I got hit by some yellow spell, and it really hurt. I flew back and, erm, let's see, I couldn't breathe. Oh, and I hit my head real hard and everything winked out. Thought I was a goner. But I must have just had the wind knocked out of me and gotten a little knock on my noggin. I feel great – better than new."

Harry stood up and looked at him seriously. "If it wasn't that serious, then where did all that blood and vomit on you and your robe come from?"

Ron looked down at himself. He was bewildered. "Mate, what happened?"

Just then Harry heard a voice some distance behind him. Ginny was up on the ridge he had just come down, calling out despondently.

"Harry, I've been up to the castle. I told Hermione and the family about Ron. Haven't had a chance to see Fred and George yet, but I've heard they're okay - you know those two. Mum and Dad asked me to collect Ron's body, but I lost track of where I saw him last. I found his wand up here, but …" She sighed deeply, despondently. "Anyway, have you found him?"

Harry noticed that Ron had quickly lain back onto the ground. Ginny couldn't see him for a shrub. Ron tapped Harry's leg and winked, then closed his eyes. Harry caught on, and called sadly to Ginny, "He's over here!"

Ginny slid down the slope and then walked despondently over. "Oh, Ron." She dropped on her knees and put her hands on his bloody chest, weeping. Her tears dripped onto his face.

Suddenly Ron poked her in the ribs on both sides, bugged out his eyes, and said goofily, "Hiya, kiddo!"

Ginny screamed, jumped up, and disapparated.

Ron laughed wickedly.

"She's going to get you for that," said Harry.

Ron shrugged. "It was worth it. When do you get a chance like that? So, I was asking, what happened?"

"I'm not really sure. We had fought the battle, and you caught that spell. It ripped your chest open and fell down the slope. I fought off Voldemort, but he escaped with LeStrange. Then I apparated down here to see if there was any hope. I saw you lying there, good as dead. I don't mind admitting, I was really messed up over it."

"Thanks, Harry. I know I would be if it were you."

Harry started to respond, but before he could do more than smile, Ginny had re-apparated with Hermione. They both screamed "Ron" and launched themselves at him.

"Ron Weasley, I'll get you back for that," scolded Ginny, with tears streaming from her eyes. "Just you wait! If we didn't have things to do, you'd have bat wings out your nose right now!"

"Ron, what happened?" pled Hermione. "Ginny told us about you getting hurt so badly by that spell and splitting your skull against a stone." She glanced toward a nearby rock the size of a bolster, coated in blood, orangey red hairs stuck to it, clashing violently with the dark red of the blood. She cringed at the sight of it. "She said she even checked your body but had to run away since Harry and Voldemort were fighting so close. Now you haven't a mark on you."

"I was just trying to get that out of Harry." said Ron. "Well, Harry…?"

Harry pursed his lips, and then explained. "You were injured badly, just like Hermione described. I was sure you were going to die any second. I was kneeling over you, and then there was this green light, like an electric torch, it seemed to move with me, or, rather … as I moved my head. Then, I felt, erm," Harry paused again, not wanting to mention the pain he had felt, "a lot of stress, and after a few minutes, you looked up at me and you were okay."

Hermione got a thoughtful look, and then asked "Harry, what exactly were you thinking when this green glow started? It sounds like magic, really big magic, so we need to know the precise focus of your mind."

"Well, I was beside myself really. Ron looked near death and I, uh, was thinking how much I love him," Harry said, getting a touch of blush to say it - though he knew there was nothing embarrassing about loving your friends, it felt silly to say it like that – "and then was thinking how I would rather be the one with the injury than for him to have it."

"So, you wished to take the injury from him, right?" said Ginny.

"Right. It was more like a prayer, really."

"And there was a green glow coming from you?"

"Well, it moved with me, so it was like it came from me."

"Bright green – like your eyes?"

"Erm, yeah, I guess that is the color."

"And then after a few minutes like that, Ron's injuries were gone, taken away from him," concluded Ginny.

"Yeah, that sounds about right,' Harry said tentatively.

Ron whistled. "You've got Healing magic – glad you found that when you did."

"It's probably no accident that you found that power when someone you care for as much as you do Ron was so badly injured. You could always leave it to Madam Pomfrey before, but you knew this time that wasn't possible. And with your feelings for Ron, you were as focused on the injuries as you could be," said Hermione. "You know, this is rather like what your mother did."

"What? My mother? She could heal?" Harry stared at her for explanation.

Hermione nodded. "Not exactly healing, but Madam Pomfrey was telling me about it as we were arranging the hospital wing to receive the injured. In my healer training, she hadn't mentioned it, because it wasn't something we could use, since your Mum is, well, dead. But today, she was saying how your mother could keep a gravely injured person alive until potions or spells could help them. She would concentrate on them, on helping them, and a very pale green light would shine from her eyes. It would strengthen them and even start the healing. Madame Pomfrey said that's how she got together with your Dad even. The last Quidditch match in their fifth year had been delayed and took place right after OWLs, Gryffindor versus Ravenclaw. Just as your father got the snitch, both bludgers got him in the head from opposite sides. It looked like he was going to be Hogwart's first Quidditch fatality, but your mother got to him quickly and kept him alive. She kept her eyes on him all the way from the Quidditch pitch to the hospital wing and kept it up for the better part of a day until Madam Pomfrey felt he was well enough for her to stop."

Harry thought a second and said, "So that was like a bonding experience for them?"

Hermione gave a little smile. "Actually, no. Your father was unconscious the whole time, so he didn't even know until someone told him. But what happened is this: Madam Pomfrey said that your father had been quite the bully and the braggart before that, really quite obnoxious. He had been interested in your mother before, but she was only distantly polite. Even after the accident, she didn't want to be around him, at least at first, not any more than her healer trainee duties required. But after the accident, your father became more and more kind and considerate of others, just as brilliant at Quidditch and sorcery, but he grew to be humble and pleasant and helpful toward others. That's when your mother took a fancy to him. Some people said he had some sort of near death experience, and some said he had brain damage. A few people even claimed someone had used polyjuice to substitute for the real James Potter, but no one could come up with a reason why. But Madam Pomfrey said it was different; she said 'Lily Evans was able to find the good in anyone, and bring it out. I think her magical healing was part and parcel with her love of everyone. She could disagree with people, fight with them even if need be, and there were those she didn't want to be around. But she just couldn't bring herself to hate anyone. And when she worked with them, they just seemed to come around and start to reach their potential.'"

Ron jumped in excitedly. "Harry, that's just like what happened with the DA! We were a bunch of goofuses till you coached us. Remember how Neville could barely do anything?"

Hermione added, "Dean told me that he barely had to fight anyone at all because Neville took out just about anyone who got near him."

"Not only that," said Ginny, "after the last of them tried to escape, Neville took on Dolohov soon after he had knocked out McGonagall. Neville was more than a match for him. Don't tell me that's just him being a late bloomer."

Harry frowned. "Hmm, I thought I was just a pretty good coach with some good students."

"You are, and not just 'pretty good,' you git!" said Ginny. "You care about your students, you encourage, you develop our strengths and help us overcome our weaknesses, just as any good coach would do. But you're also a wizard, a wizard whose magic reaches out to others, to those you care to help, just like your mother did – but apparently much more deeply. I'll bet that night when you freaked out screaming at Tonks, she got a big burst of that magic – that's why she could do her patronus!"

Harry nodded thoughtfully. "Now that I think about it, the night when Hedwig was attacked there was a similar green glow around her in Hagrid's cabin, just not as strong. I thought Dumbledore or Hagrid had conjured it so we could keep an eye on her."

Hermione snapped her fingers. "And don't forget Melony. You haven't wanted to take credit, but I'll bet you really did keep her alive. I talked to the goblin healers, and they still have no explanation for how someone that far gone could survive."

Ron spoke up. "This is very interesting and all, but there are people out here who need help now. Let's get to them. Harry, do you think you can do it for others too? Or," he said with a smirk, "Am I just special?"

"Oh, yeah, you're special alright!" Harry said sarcastically, "- in more ways than one. Seriously, I'm willing to try, but I've just now healed someone for the very first time, and it was my best friend. It took me months to learn how to focus for a Patronus, and that just takes thinking intensely happy thoughts. Now I've got to care enough to take injuries away. I just don't know how it will go."

Hermione looked up at him, a sight made all the more effective on him due to the many months he had gone without seeing her eyes. "Trying is all anyone can ask. You've never failed to give a go at helping others before. You know – it's that saving-people thing. Tell you what: if someone can be taken back to the hospital wing and treated there, then that's what we'll do. You tend to those who've been marked as beyond help, okay? After all, if they would die anyway, then we're not making things any worse."

"Sure," said Harry, with a bit of reluctance.

Ginny put her hands on his shoulders and looked him in the eye. "Harry, no one has faced dangers like you have to save others. You fought a basilisk to save me. You fought a hundred dementors to save Hermione and Sirius. I've lost track of how many times you've faced Voldemort. You even saved that idiot cousin of yours who'd always been such a bully to you. You can do this."

Harry smiled weakly. Sure, he thought, but in those cases, he had been fighting, and he had been saving his own skin as well. They didn't know about the pain. They thought it was like pulling a splinter. It was one thing to take Ron's pain; he'd do it again if he had to, gladly. But could he do it for others? It wasn't like trading hits like in boxing or a duel, or even like standing there letting someone hit him; he had to pull the injury into his own body: it went against every instinct of the body for self-preservation.