"Another option? Out with it!"
Snape frowned. "It's just a story…a myth…I'm not sure if it's even possible. Very dark magic indeed. But it may be our only chance to bring him back."
"What is this story, Severus?" asked Dumbledore.
Snape spoke slowly. "In one of my oldest books, I once read that there is a very rare species of flobberworm. Only a few of this particular type of worm exist at any time, and finding one is nearly impossible."
"What does the worm do?" asked Pomfrey.
"It's more a question of what it can become," Snape replied. "This flobberworm has the ability to mimic other creatures quite closely. This helps it survive."
"That doesn't help us here," said Lupin. "We don't need a decoy of Harry, we need Harry himself."
"Impatient as always, Remus," Snape returned, but without his usual tone. "The creature's ability is so developed that, under the correct conditions, the worm can transform itself into a perfect copy of another being, correct down to the smallest detail. Once injected with another being's blood, it can duplicate skin, bone, organs, hair…everything."
The room was deathly silent except for Snape's measured tones.
"A complex magical ceremony is required to complete the transformation," he continued. "Who knows how this was discovered…not the sort of thing one stumbles across by accident. At any rate, the flobberworm transforms itself into a perfect replica of the other being. However, this…clone…ages very quickly, and lives only a short while before dying of old age."
Dumbledore was nodding. "I believe I see what you are getting at, Severus. We can't repair Harry's brain, but we can provide him with new brain tissue to replace what was damaged."
Pomfrey looked from one man to the other, her mouth agape. "Do you realize what you'd be doing? You'd be growing him just to take out part of his brain! You'd be using him … for parts! He'd live and die just to give Harry back his magic!" She turned to Lupin, who stood silently, deep in thought. "Remus! We can't do this!"
Lupin turned tired eyes to her. "Yes, that's exactly what we'd be doing," he replied. "I don't like this, not at all. It's very wrong, for so many reasons…but I don't think that we really have a choice here."
"Remus!"
"If Harry's ability to fight Voldemort is gone, then the wizarding world is lost. We have no choice, Poppy. I don't like this any more than you do, but if we don't get Harry back, we're all as good as dead."
After such a turbulent twelve hours, it was a source of some relief to the four when Hagrid once again proved predictable.
"If anyone will know where to find one of these flobberworms," said Dumbledore, "Hagrid will." And he had.
It took him the better part of the day, but one solo trip to the forest later, a weary and dirty Hagrid carried a wooden crate up to the hospital wing. The wing was empty except for Madam Pomfrey. She waved her wand at a bookshelf in a corner, which slid aside to reveal a small doorway.
Hagrid bent to enter the room, and stopped suddenly when he caught sight of the bed with Harry in it. Pomfrey bumped softly into his back.
"Sorry," he said softly, and moved into the room.
Inside the room, the others peered with open curiosity as Hagrid pried off the lid of the crate. Inside lay an ordinary-looking flobberworm, doing nothing but…sitting there.
"This is rather anticlimactic," Snape muttered.
Hagrid nodded. "Flobberworms aren't the most entertainin' of creatures, Professor, but sure can be useful." Snape nodded.
Dumbledore peered at it more closely.
"How do you know that this is the sort we need, Hagrid?"
Hagrid smiled; he was in his element. "See that little patch of blue right there?"
"There, near its tail?"
"Well, as close to a tail as it has. But yes, there. That's how you know."
"Let's get this over with," said Lupin. Dumbledore nodded. Pomfrey extracted a little bit of Harry's blood with a syringe, and returned to the crate.
Hagrid held the flobberworm down in its crate as Pomfrey quickly injected the blood into the blue spot.
"It's done," she said. Hagrid put the lid back on the crate and turned to leave.
"Where are you going, Hagrid?" came Dumbledore's soft voice.
Hagrid turned around, surprised. "I … uh … I thought that you wouldn't want me here for this. Not bein' a wizard and all."
Lupin put his hand on Hagrid's enormous arm. "You care for Harry as much as any of us. You belong here, if you'll stay."
Hagrid could only nod his huge head, and he pushed the crate next to Harry's bed. His eyes rested for a moment on Harry's still face, then he turned and went to a corner of the room.
Three wizards and one witch positioned themselves around the bed and the crate. Their eyes met, and they raised their wands. They started to intone the words of the ancient ritual in unison. A cone of light formed over the bed and another over the crate. As they worked, the cones grew and changed color, first one, then the other, then the first again. Sweat broke out on their brows, one after another, yet the cones continued to grow, until after several minutes both turned white and began to move together.
The chanting reached a fever pitch, and as the four voices finally cried "UNUM!", the cones merged and the room was filled with blinding white light.
Then, it was all gone, and they were left standing in a little room around a bed and a crate, staring at each other, wrung out almost to the point of collapse.
Dumbledore moved to the crate and delicately lifted the lid. Everyone crowded around. Inside, the flobberworm still lay motionless, but its color had changed to a brilliant gold, and the inside of the box was suffused in a blue glow.
"It's … beautiful," said Pomfrey.
"It is that," said Hagrid.
"What now?" asked Lupin.
"We wait," answered Dumbledore. "Now, it's dark out, and everyone should get some rest."
Hermione was getting impatient. And suspicious.
It was the second morning since Harry's accident, and she hadn't heard anything about his condition except that "he was unconscious, but should wake up soon". "Soon" wasn't soon enough for her.
"Why aren't they letting us see him?" she asked Ron on the way to breakfast.
"I don't know," answered Ron.
"We've been through this before. We were always allowed to sit with him even if he was asleep. Something's wrong."
"Hermione, I don't know, really," said Ron. "I'm sure that Pomfrey is taking good care of him. There's nothing we can do. If there were, we'd have been told."
"Well, she may think we can't do anything, but I'm not so sure," Hermione replied. "I'm going up to see him after Potions this afternoon. Even if he can just hear our voices, he'll know that we haven't forgotten him. Are you going to come along?"
"Hermione, we really shouldn't…"
Hermione stopped walking abruptly. "Ron, you're always telling me that we can't be afraid of doing what needs to be done. Who's afraid now?"
Ron grimaced; she had him there. "Fine. But just for a little bit."
Snape seemed oddly preoccupied during double Potions that afternoon. Hermione couldn't remember the last time that Potions had gone from start to finish without any points being given or taken at all. Even Malfoy seemed to have noticed when his mere presence wasn't enough to earn Slytherin five points; his pout was ill-concealed.
Something is definitely up, she thought. I've never seen Snape so distracted.
Immediately after class, she and Ron dropped their bags off at Gryffindor Tower and made their way to the hallway outside the hospital wing. Ron had borrowed Harry's map, and they made sure the hall was clear before they crept up to the locked door.
"Nobody inside but Harry," he said. "That's weird…Pomfrey's almost always there."
Hermione uttered "Alohomora", and they pushed the door open and crept in. All was quiet. Harry lay silently in one of the beds on the right of the room, his head wrapped in yards and yards of gauze; they could see that he was deeply unconscious.
Then Hermione looked toward the back corner.
"Look at that bookcase," she whispered. They could both see the light coming from the doorway next to it. They moved quietly toward the doorway, and peered through.
Dumbledore was sitting next to a small bed with high sides. He was talking softly to the bed, and after a moment he reached down into it and withdrew a small bundle.
"Mr. Weasley, Miss Granger, do join us," he said, and the two nearly jumped out of their skins. "Since you've found us, you may as well come in."
They looked at each other sheepishly, then entered the room and stood one on each side of Dumbledore's chair. With a smile, he turned the bundle to them, and they gasped. Inside was the face of a little baby with piercing green eyes. The black fuzz on the baby's head was already untidy.
They stared at Dumbledore, speechless.
"You may be wondering what this is."
All they could do was nod. Dumbledore conjured up a pair of overstuffed chintz chairs and a small table with a pot of tea and three cups.
"Please seat yourselves. Alas, this explanation will not be a short one." And he began.
Some time later, Ron sat, full of tea, as Dumbledore finished talking. Hermione sat rocking the baby. He smiled up at her toothlessly, and she felt her heart break.
"So this little baby is going to grow up, live its life, and die within the space of a few weeks?" she asked.
Dumbledore nodded. The baby grabbed her finger with its little hand.
"But it will live most of its life as a squib," said Ron. "Once it's Harry's age, you'll be taking out the magical part of its brain and transplanting it into Harry."
Lupin had arrived during Dumbledore's explanation, and was leaning against the doorframe. "Yes. Then Harry should be back to his old self."
"But won't the transplanted tissue age too quickly as well?" Hermione asked. She tugged lightly on the little hand, and the hand pulled back as the baby's face broke out into a smile that she recognized instantly.
"An excellent question, as usual, Miss Granger," Dumbledore responded. "Professor Snape and Madam Pomfrey inform us that the tissue will stabilize after the transplant and will age normally. It will be as if Harry had never been injured."
"And then what happens to..."
"We don't have a name for him yet," said Lupin. "After that, he will grow older and live out his life at a very fast pace…about two years per day or so."
"So he'll have weeks more where he has to exist without any magic at all," Ron said.
"That's a terrible fate," Hermione frowned.
"Better than the fate of the entire wizarding world should Harry be unable to fight Voldemort," Snape said as he entered the room. "Mr. Weasley, Miss Granger. I am only surprised that it took you this long to make your way into here."
"I tried to stop her," said Ron helplessly.
"That must be a first," returned Snape, again without his usual iciness.
"Severus, our conversation has brought up a pressing issue," Dumbledore said, as Hermione handed him the squirming bundle. "We need to have a name for this baby."
Snape nodded. "It would not be reasonable to call it Harry." They all nodded agreement.
"James, then?" suggested Hermione. "That's his middle name."
Lupin shook his head. "Please…not James."
"Oh, I'm sorry, Professor," Hermione said, turning red. "I didn't mean…"
"It's alright, Hermione," Lupin said.
"How about Jim?" Ron suggested. "Or Jimmy."
Dumbledore nodded. "Jimmy it is, then. Welcome, little Jimmy Potter."
"Wormtail!"
"Yes, my lord?"
"I have not been able to touch Potter's mind for some days now. Is there any news about him?"
"None yet, my lord."
"Have our contact at Hogwarts find out why this is."