Title: Dreams

Rating: G

Summary: Harry meets a certain someone at St. Mungo's.

Disclaimer: This doesn't belong to me. I don't claim the characters. Don't sue, I don't own anything much.

A/N: Erm. I should have mentioned much, much earlier that there will be spoilers until the 5th HP book. I started before the 6th came out. But I did read the 6th. Therefore there might be some teensy weensy spoilers from there to. But I'll tell if they are… and if I remember.

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The Stranger in Ward 205

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Lupin was right, Harry thought as he navigated the halls of St. Mungo's. The hospital was bustling with activity and looked as if it had been doing so for quite some time. There had been nurses magicking stretchers by the dozen downstairs in the entrance hall as patient after patient barged in.

Some were clearly hurt by accident, as was attested by the patient with a man-eating cactus attached to his head but others seemed to have survived injury from other darker means. The young teenage girl for example, from Beauxbatons, who had limped in with her twin brother in her arms, crying incoherently about being attacked by harpies while on holiday skiing. Harry shook his head. From what he'd learned during Care of Magical Creatures under Professor Planck, Harpies were dark creatures that lived in remote high ranges. Though ferocious, they hardly ever attacked wizards and witches mainly due to the fact that they hardly ever came into contact with them.

And they weren't the only ones. From passing through the halls, Harry had gleaned enough from what he'd seen to know that the werewolf, vampire, hinkypunks, nagas, imps, and numerous other dark creatures were on the rise in activity. Communities of elves, nymphs, fairies and sprites were being displaced from their forests and had settled down nearer to civilization to seek salvation from the sudden uprising.

Madam Pomfrey and Tonks however had hardly battered an eyelid at the surge in activity, which made Harry wonder just how much he'd missed while safely imprisoned at Privet Drive. Snape too, though irritated at having to brush against so many people was hardly deterred from striding down the halls. It was all Harry could do to keep up while gawking at the people he saw.

They had passed many obviously new wings, newly painted and bare from decorations. It looked like a swarm of engineer dwarves had overhauled the place. Streaks of paint in multicolor colored the walls to lead personnel and patients to the various new wards set up. Their party followed a particular one, neon green in colour and labeled with "Unidentifiable Accidents and Mishaps" above it. Eventually it brought them to a spacious room filled with equipment and attendants.

"Florence," Madam Pomfrey said warmly as they were greeted by a middle-aged witch in soft green robes. "Remus here needs a checkup. We suspect a vampire attack but there isn't a trace of a bite on him and he is a werewolf currently sedated since," she checked her watch, a slim golden timepiece that clung to her wrist, "last night at 1:30 p.m. which makes it five hours already." She gestured to a large tank filled with a viscous sky blue liquid. "A full body check up, please."

"Alright." Florence said as she took over the stretcher from Madam Pomfrey. "We'll need to run a few tests," she said as she ran her wand down Lupin's body, taking note of the signals it gave out. "Will you all remain here for the tests? I might need to ask a few questions."

"Yes, though Tonks, I think you might escort Harry to Dumbledore now," Madam Pomfrey said.

"Alright, Vicky," Tonks said as she nudged Harry towards the door. "Come on, Harry, it's the top floor so we'll take the elevators."

Harry found himself deftly steered towards a wide elevator that opened up immediately when they reached it. The doors dinged open and dinged close then dinged again as Tonks stated the floor they wanted to go to. Harry found himself shooting upwards, the feeling exactly what a Muggle elevator felt like, when suddenly it stopped. He heard a dinging sound and turned around as a set of doors he hadn't noticed dinged open.

A large trolley bed guided by a medic wizard wheeled in. The patient was lying comatose on the bed, handcuffed to the railings. It was a woman, pale as the sheets she lay on, with a surgery cap on her head and hospital robes on her. Her body was riddled with pins, and delicately slim tubes with various colored liquids running through them surrounded her body, suffusing the patches of skin they touched with glowing potions that seeped in. Harry watched fascinated as the medic tended to her, transferring several tubes from different parts of her body to another. He was so busy staring at the tubes that he was startled when Tonks nudged him and gestured to the patient's hands handcuffed to the railing.

"What?" he whispered. The medic looked up then looked down, taking note of them in a sweep of his eyes. Tonks nudged him again, and her nose seemed to grow longer as she once again gestured toward the slim hands.

Harry peered carefully at the hands. Small hands with long fingers, manicured pale nails… a very slim white gold ring circled the fourth finger of her left hand. It was elegantly cast with a pattern of waves engraved in the center. Harry blinked as it gleamed brightly in the lights as the elevator doors dinged open and the medic wheeled her out.

"What-"

Ding The doors opened again and Tonks ushered him out. "Now Harry, Dumbledore's in Room 205, just go down the hall, it's the door on the right, Arthur's by the door so you should be quite safe, I've got to see to something, if you would just excuse me!" With that, she pushed him out of the elevator and dinged the doors close. Harry stood there in astonishment for a few seconds before he was greeted by a warm voice.

"Ah, Harry!" Mr. Weasley said. "I'm so glad you're alright. Ron and Hermione were so anxious about you it was all I could do to keep them at home. Molly has been almost beside herself with worry."

"Hello, Mr Weasley." Harry said. "Is everything alright at the Burrow?"

"Oh yes. Percy has returned home. He's no longer working at the Ministry."

"Why?"

"Well, it's a long story. I'll tell you when we have more time," Mr Weasley said as he held open the door of Room 205 for Harry.

"Okay." Why was everyone in such a hurry? Harry stepped further into the room. It was pale green in colour instead of white, with a border of what looked like plaster of Paris lining the ceiling and where the floor met the walls. There was a carpet on the floor, an oddity since hospitals were keen on cleanliness, and the windows were shaded with pale blue drapes with a pattern of silver flowers. At the moment the drapes were drawn and so Harry didn't see the bed situated in the right corner of the room until he was alerted by a slight cough.

"Ahem." A tall figure in dark robes stood up from its seat on a rocking chair. Professor Dumbledore moved towards Harry to greet him. "Harry, you're here at last."

"Professor!" Harry exclaimed. Professor Dumbledore looked thinner than he'd been last term. His beard was longer too. "It's good to see you."

"Not as good as it is to see you, Harry." He smiled and though it was dark Harry could see that it was a tired and sad smile. "I have to apologize, Harry, for what happened to your family. I should have done more to protect them and you. As it is, it is of no credit to me that you survived. I can only thank Remus' quick action for it. I am… deeply sorry. And I pray that you believe me when I say that I never would have let things happen the way they did… I-"

"It's alright Professor." Harry interrupted. He couldn't handle seeing Dumbledore practically begging his forgiveness. "Tonks told me what happened. They must have planned it that way. I- I don't blame you."

Professor Dumbledore stood there for a few moments, at a lost at what to say. He felt intensely guilty over what had happened. Yet Harry didn't blame him? It was a terrible thing to hope that it was true. After all that he'd done. And yet, perhaps it wasn't all lost.

"Harry. There's someone you should meet." He retreated into the interior of the room, his long robes rustling in the piled carpet. "Someone… you might know," he said cryptically as he drew back the curtains that draped round the bed.

Harry approached him, glancing as he walked past at Dumbledore's face, but it was cloaked in shadows. He looked down at the occupant of the bed, wondering who it was.

There lay a figure, heavily asleep and dressed in St. Mungo's pale green robes. The room was dark but his eyes could still make out the familiar body, he'd seen it so many times, though he'd never seen it as still as it was. Hefty for his size, the boy lying on the bed was too still for anyone to mistake his inactivity for the calm of sleep. In fact the only thing that moved on the bed was the big black spider that was weaving its web above the head of pale gold hair. The strands dangled down the chubby cheeks and sunk deep into the skin, shielding the upper part of his face and totally covering his eyes. Yet he knew immediately who it was.

"Dudley!" he gasped in shock. His cousin lay there on the bed, immobile yet clearly alive. "Didn't he-?" He looked up questioningly at Dumbledore.

"No. Fortunately Mr. Dursley survived. Or rather, preserved himself with success," replied Dumbledore.

"Preserved -" Harry could only gape at his cousin's serene body. The spider was still swiftly weaving strings of web, thin as hairs around his face. "What do you mean?"

Dumbledore sat down in the rocking chair with a sigh. He rocked to and fro several times before replying.

"Your cousin, Harry, is not unlike yourself. Whatever adversity they faced, it seems that he did not succumb as your aunt and uncle did. I do not know exactly how it happened, but it is clear from what we found that your cousin, Dudley," he paused and scrutinized Harry's face, "has exhibited his first feat as a wizard gifted with the ability to do magic."

Harry gazed at him incredulously again. A twinkle sparkled from within the depths of Dumbledore's eyes. The Boy Who Lived looked awfully amusing at the moment.

"Yes, Harry. It's true. Your cousin was finally, at long last, stimulated to demonstrate his talent in an act of self defense." He turned his face away. "Would that it had not had to happen so," he added in a whisper to himself.

Harry turned back to stare at his cousin. The spider was now somewhere behind his left ear, its horrifically long legs spanning the length of his face as they spindled the mesh of web. "But why… why now?"

"Numerous reasons, Harry. It could be that your cousin, cushioned by his doting parents, never felt the need to demonstrate his ability. Maybe because of what they thought and how they regarded you, he subconsciously suppressed himself. Or perhaps, he just simply wasn't ready."

Harry recalled what Neville had said about his uncle throwing him from several floors high to make him perform magic, and how Neville had succeeded and bounced onto the street. If his uncle had not 'encouraged' him so, would Neville ever have entered Hogwarts? Then an awful thought occurred to him. What had happened that night must have been so terrible; traumatic enough to induce Dudley to draw on the powers he had always feared in Harry, to draw on them to save himself. How… how awful. He must have been so desperate.

"Why is he unconscious then, if he managed to protect himself?"

"According to the medical analysis conducted on Mr. Dursley, the sudden influx of magic in his system temporarily induced a coma as his body struggles to adjust to the…" he leaned to the side and picked up the chart attached to the railing of the bed, "'the surge of previously unused magic.'" He replaced the chart. "I think that the channeling of raw magic not tempered by a wand and in such vast amounts has caused a depletion of his energy. Of course it could also be influenced by emotional and mental shock."

"Oh." Harry paused a moment and regarded Dudley's pale face. What could be seen of it that is. "What is the spider doing?"

"Ah. The Weaver Spider. It is monitoring him as well as protecting his mind and senses. A succubus and various incubi are being treated in the 'Dangerous Beasts' ward." He smiled. "Mr. Dursley would be easy prey to them."

Harry shook his head in bewilderment. What next? he wondered.

"I have got to go Harry. I must see to Remus." Dumbledore got up and steadied the rocking chair. "I will ask Arthur to join you. Please wait a moment," he said as he walked away, leaving Harry to gaze back and forth at his retreating back and Dudley's prone body. What if he woke up while Harry was alone with him?

"You might want to try the rocking chair, Harry," Dumbledore turned around and gestured at the chair. "Very comfortable." And with that, he left.

TBC.