There was a haze. It was constant, occasionally fading out and in. There were times when the sounds would become clearer and he would wonder what was past this barrier. It would never keep his attention long enough for him to remember why he wanted to go back. He much preferred it when he was being absorbed in his warm atmosphere. He assumed it was something like being in the mother's womb, safe, protected.
Though time seemed meaningless to him, the comfort of his domain seemed to become less and less inviting, and he missed its attention. It seemed so much easier to stay here than venture off to the unknown. He felt there was a reason that he shouldn't be taking the easy route, it left an unsettling feeling in his stomach. Why should he care? Was there even anyone waiting for him just outside?
Slowly, the darkness grew lighter, the sounds louder. He could distinguish voices from what once seemed like static. Hearing some of these sounds made him feel it might be better to push himself out of his safe place, others just made him want to crawl back in.
The haze had vanished and all that was left was mist. It was cold and unfamiliar, he wanted to go back but there seemed no going back, only going forward, but forward hurt, forward was hard. He was uncomfortable for the first time in a long time. He felt constraints in his movement; the feeling of a body was foreign. It had been so long, but not forever. The closer he came to reaching the surface the more familiar this skin felt, this existing felt.
Who am I? You're Harry, a voice answered, his own. Harry, he rolled this name around in his brain for a while. His realization was slow but it came nonetheless. He was Harry Potter, and he needed to go forward.
One, two, three. There, I moved, well I twitched; he did it again, that, that's a finger. Let's trying something else, how about these things that are covering me up? His eye twitched. There, keep going with that, go on, open them-and he did.
It was slow at first, just getting them to move those first few millimeters, but as the space between darkness and light grew, Harry was forced to blink away the harsh light. When his eyes adjusted he was able to observe the environment, which surrounded him. It was white. He opened his mouth, expecting it to be wet, and taste like it always did in the morning, but it was dry and parched. The infirmary was silent.
Harry's mind was moving with a numbing slowness. He tilted his head a bit to the left, Ron. The read head was slumped in a large recliner chair. He observed his best friend curiously, the normally rosy face was taunt and pale with strain, dark circles encompassed his eyes, so similar to the ones Harry was used to on his own face.
He tried to turn on his side in an effort to wake his friend but found his body incapable of movement. Finger twitches were a far cry from leg movement. Harry took a steadying breath, half of which was a sigh of frustration. That seemed to be enough to rouse Ron. He found this highly amusing, as nothing less than suffocation would wake Ron in the past.
Harry's slow eyes hardly had enough time to see Ron's own open before they had disappeared again. It seemed like a part of a movie that had been skipped over-- one moment his friend was in a chair, the next Ron was crushing him. Well, not crushing, but he may as well have been for how much it felt like it. Ron had never been so aggressive in his compassion, his best friend was clutching at him for dear life, occasionally squeezing as if to prove to himself the actuality of it all.
"Whoa," Harry's voice was a mere croak, barely audible above a whisper. "Ron, calm down, don't get your knickers in a twist." The tall boy pulled away and Harry let out a whoosh of air. Ron didn't say a word, he just turned his back and conjured some water, Harry could have sworn he heard sniffling.
He turned back and offered Harry the glass, a small straw protruding from it. Ron took a seat on the edge of the bed and seemed to be trying to put it to Harry's lips; he pulled back, and grinned lightly. "I think I can handle it from here." He made to lift up his arm, Harry stared at it, it didn't move. "Maybe not."
Ron smirked, and he saw for the first time, a shimmer of the light in his eyes that Harry recognized so well. This time when the straw was pushed to his lips he did not refuse. He drank for a long time until the glass was empty, even if Harry had wanted to stop, he was certain Ron would never let him.
When at last he set the glass on the end table, Harry cleared his throat, hoping to elect a better sound from his voice. "How long have I been out?" the sound was raw, but a little bit louder.
For the first time Ron made a noise, it was like a large wind had come out of his mouth, and he seemed to slump in the relief of it all. "Merlin, Harry." Ron's eyes fell shut before opening them again. Harry had rarely seen his best friend so distraught. "You don't know how close you came this time. It took us ages to figure out what was wrong, and then that-"
"Ron, how long?"
He sighed, "A month."
Harry felt as if had collided with his chest, knocking the wind out of him simultaneously. "A month!" He had meant for it to come out as a shout, it barely reached over a whisper. Ron replenished the glass and allowed him another drink. Harry stared at his bed covers, trying to comprehend the full value of losing a month of his life.
Ron seemed to be watching his reaction carefully, before changing the subject. "Ginny's gonna be pissed she missed you."
The obvious diversion worked. Harry's head shot up as quickly as his body would allow. "Ginny! Is she all right? Is she safe? Was she hurt?"
"Besides worrying about you she's fine." Ron grinned devishly, "Don't see what the big deals is really, I'm mean it's just you isn't it?"
Harry mock glared at his friend. "If I could move I'd smack you." Harry smirked, "You didn't seem too peeved when I woke up."
Ron shrugged, "It's the cute hair, I just can't resist." He ruffled Harry's constantly disheveled mop of hair.
Harry shook his head, pulling away. While catching his breath it drew his attention to other thoughts. "So what was wrong with me?"
Ron's smile had vanished, and it was replaced with a ghost of worry. "Dunno, they wouldn't tell us until they talked to you first." He stood, "Speaking of which, I'm gonna fetch Madam Pomfrey, tell her you're awake." Ron walked down the wide aisle between the beds of the clinic. He shot one more fleeting glance at Harry before exiting through the wide doors.
He had time to allow his eyes to wander for just a moment before the large doors were open again, this time revealing to faces, both female. Their features were the same as Ron's, tired and worn. He tried to imagine himself in a similar situation if it had been one of them in this bed. Harry couldn't stand the thought, especially since it would probably be his fault.
They were whispering quietly to themselves, it was obvious they had not received the news of his awakening. Harry steeled himself, preparing for the onslaught. Not much longer after he braced himself to the bed their four tired eyes drifted automatically to his bed. It was like watching synchronized swimming, the two blinked in shock, stock still before dashing towards him, and separating half way to either side of the bed.
Hermione had thrown her arms around his neck, and Ginny was clutching to his waist. He grinned stupidly, hey, he wasn't all noble Gryffindor. Harry felt rather awful for not being able to hug them back, but even if he could move his arms, they were pinned tightly to his side by two feminine bodies.
Ginny was slowly taking over and Hermione grinned tearfully stepping back to allow her full access. She ran her hands gently down his face, looking deep into his eyes. Her own were filled with unshed tears and they glinted softly off the morning sun. Somehow Ginny had managed to straddle him, her hands still placed firmly on the side of his face.
She started with his forehead, kissing it gently, and as she moved down his nose, she picked up her ferocity. By the time Ginny had reached his mouth she was moving quickly and with a burning passion, and something else, desperation? Thank Merlin for lip movement.
Part of his mind knew that if he didn't come up for air soon he would pass out; the other part didn't really give a damn. Deciding he would do what felt right, Harry couldn't deny Ginny a good snogging after a month's wait and he needed something to moisten his mouth up a bit. Harry blushed thinking how disgusting his mouth must taste after a month of it being closed. Ginny didn't seem to care.
"Ahhh! My eyes!" Harry and Ginny separated quickly, making an odd squelching sound in the process. Ron was leaning over an empty bed in agony hands clamped over his eyes. "My ears!" He screamed removing his eye cover and placing them over his ears tightly.
Madam Pomfrey hardly spared them a glance; she just walked determinedly toward Harry. "Miss Weasley, try not to exhaust him too soon after his waking. I need him coherent for his examination."
Ginny blushed darkly and slid to sit on the side of the bed, clutching his unmoving hand. Harry was breathing heavily and grinning stupidly. He did feel more drained but it was worth it. "Is it safe?" Ron asked loudly.
The medi-witch tuted, "Do show some maturity, Weasley." Ron squinted slightly through his eyes, and deciding the coast was clear he emerged from his slump. "We talked about that mate," Ron warned, before collapsing into the same recliner Harry had first seen him in. He seemed to be familiar with it and he wondered how often Ron had taken to sitting there. Hermione crossed over to his left and took a seat on the arm of Ron's chair; she took his hand in hers.
With eyebrows raised Harry was about to inquire into it all when Madam Pomfrey snapped at him. "Eyes on me Potter." His head whipped back in her direction; he would not soon defy that tone of voice.
"Let me check you over," she pulled out her wand. The normally severe looking woman had allowed her façade to slip, her face was grave and filled with-concern? He had never composed with so not angry looking; it sparked a flicker of fear in his gut.
Madam Pomfrey held her wand vertically, in the same way she had done on his last trip. As it began to vibrate she ran it up and down along his person, each time pausing to examine her chart, occasionally shaking her head. Harry wasn't aware of his friends watching the medi-witch with the same intensity as himself.
For the first time since his waking, Harry was concerned. He had assumed he would wake up, stay in the infirmary for a couple of days, and move on without a scratch, well maybe not without a scratch. Now though, Harry didn't like the way she was observing that chart of hers, they way she was so thoroughly searching him, like a muggle screening. Ginny squeezed his hand tighter.
His head snapped in the opposite direction at the sound of Dumbledore's entrance into the hospital. His violet robes were a blinding contrast to the sterile white of the infirmary; Harry had to blink to allow his eyes to adjust. When he found he could look at the headmaster without squinting Harry saw the grave look in his eyes and his stomach jumped again.
"If all of you would allow us some privacy, I would like to speak to Harry alone." Dumbledore's bespectacled eyes swept the room sternly. Surprisingly, Madam Pomfrey left without protest. Ginny squeezed his hand once more before leaning forward and kissing him gently on his forehead. Ron and Hermione's worried glances as they went through the threshold into the hall left him with very little confidence.
Dumbledore didn't allow his gaze to leave the closed doors for a long time. The wait was unbearable. Watching his headmaster, usually so certain in his actions, stand lost in turmoil of thought.
When Harry felt he could stand the silence now longer, he spoke. "Sir?" Harry croaked. He was surprised, Harry had expected something of an immediate reaction, the old wizard merely allowed his eyes to fall shut for only a brief second. Soon after he turned slowly and sat on the edge of his bed with a painful sigh.
Harry could not allow his eyes to leave the wrinkled face of the man who he had spent many a month feeling bitter with now all he felt was a painstaking anxiousness. "Sir?" Harry said again, "What's going on?" He feared the answer himself, but he had to know. He recognized in the back of his mind that if Harry had been feeling not quite so drained he would have been angry at this repetitive silence. This man was holding a secret Harry needed to know.
Dumbledore sighed again, his eyes falling down to the wrinkled bed spread. "Too many things my dear boy, too many things that should have been resolved and not, too much darkness," The man finally allowed his eyes to look into those of Harry's, he nearly gasped at the sight of tears, "too many burdens that should not have been placed on your shoulders." The wrinkled eyelids closed tightly, before reemerging the moistness absorbed.
"Do you recall the words of the curse Voldermort struck you with a month ago?"
Harry blinked, it seemed so surreal to him that this all had been a month ago. He tried to recall the night in his mind, it was not as easy as he had hoped, perhaps it had been a month. Or maybe he had been so distracted that night to recall much of anything, in his rush of adrenaline. Harry shook his head, "No, sir."
Dumbledore's hand flinched. "Voldermort cast something on you that I would never have believed possible even by him, The Curse of Mortifer. Not because of any ethics I thought he may have come across, but because it is something he swore he held no standing by.
"As you are well aware the Fidelus Charm, was an ancient magic based solely on the structure of love. Tom has never placed much faith in magic involving love or being ancient, that is why his choice is curiously surprising. It shows us that even Voldemort does not always set store by his own rules, perhaps this will help us in the future."
Harry paused in thought, allowing his mind to catch up with all the man had told him. After he processed it all, only one thing seemed to matter to him. "And what does The Curse of Mortifer do?"
"This is the thing that most aggrieves me to tell you Harry. You should know by now that I care very deeply for you and what I'm about to tell you hurts me more than you can imagine."
His heart was beginning to pound, what could be this awful that it seemed unspeakable even to Dumbledore? As Harry observed the man he realized that was exactly what he seemed to resemble-- a man in pure physical pain. He could not find the courage or strength to unstick his tongue from the roof of his mouth to ask for more.
The Headmaster seemed to understand Harry's wish to continue. "Mortifer in Latin means," he paused, breathing heavily through his nose, "It means death." The pounding in his chest ceased abruptly. "To be more accurate, it means slow death."
Dumbledore looked into Harry's face searchingly. He gave the man nothing in return, he was stunned and confused, but part of him knew what was coming, no matter how much he may have wished to deny it.
"Tom struck you with slow death, Harry. A disease or an illness, whichever you prefer to call it. It's unique in its symptoms but similar to many muggle cancers in its destructiveness. During your coma we were able to dig up some useful research on the curse itself. From the texts we have discerned that this can last up to a year."
His breathing was labored, there were so many questions flying through his head, that Harry was forced to unstick his throat. "What-" He cleared his throat, "What happens after a year?"
The headmaster sighed, his eyes falling shut once more. Opening them sadly he grasped Harry's hands in his own. He opened his mouth in shock just slightly. Harry and Dumbledore had never had much experience on the level of physical contact, and the man's grip on his hands was almost painful in its intensity.
"No one in recorded history has ever survived the effects of The Curse of Mortifer after a year." The intensity in Dumbledore's eyes was filled with such passion it was unbearable to stay connected with them.
The wind was literally knocked out of Harry's chest; he made a sort of a small-strangled cry. Dumbledore placed a hand on his shoulder tightly, steadying him while he caught his breath. His mouth was still gaping like a fish; no one could ever comprehend the shock that racked through his body at these words unless someone had experienced it for themselves.
Both of Dumbledore's hands now clasped both of Harry's shoulders in a ferocious grip, his eyes now desperate. "Harry, you must also understand that no one has ever survived Avada Kedavra, either. You are the strongest person I have ever known, Harry. Not for your name or your legacy, but because there is some inner strength in the person that you are, and it has never made me more proud. You will be the one to defeat this, and we will be doing everything in our power to help you."
As I'm sure we must all be aware by now, has officially banned responding to reviewer comments. I will not express my opinion of this at the present time, but I will not give up my rights to contact my readers. I advise all of you to join my yahoo group, if you haven't already. You can find the link on my profile page. I will now be answering all reviews on the message boards there. Also, the next chapter will be my last and the end of this wonderful legacy, ending at an even 20 chapters. There will be a sequel so fear not. Here's the deal people, I am currently at 260 reviews I want 310 by the time I next post, which could be a lot sooner if you people get reviewing. I know my stats and I know I get more than 50 hits a chapter so I don't think it's an unreasonable request, I have not often demanded this from you, but I feel I deserve some kudos for me making it all the way to the end. So get a move on people, review.