Disclaimer: I still don't own it.
Author's Note: I'm sorry I haven't updated in forever. I had 26 people for thanksgiving, then my high school entrance exam, and I spent all of last weekend doing homework. Hopefully I'll finish typing this today but probably not. I have concert tickets for the U2 concert tonight. I absolutely love U2. Well thanks to all my reviewers and on to the story.
Acts of Desperation
"…lack of…degree…"
"…damage… Aunt… friends…"
"…vital… woman… strange…"
"…might…concussion… coma…"
The disconnected fragments were impossible for Harry to comprehend. His eyelids felt extremely heavy, and his nose felt funny with two tubes down it. He could feel his legs very well either.
Harry was beginning to gain consciousness, and pain shot through his limbs. He let out a quiet groan.
"Harry, Harry please open your eyes."
Harry opened his eyes slowly, but shut them immediately. The light felt like fire on his eyes. The nurse noticed and shut the blinds.
"There now it's not so bright."
Harry opened his eyes again. The room was rather dark now. Harry blinked a couple of times while his eyes adjusted.
"Hello Harry."
"Water," he rasped.
The nurse walked over to the sink and filled it half way. She walked back to the bed and gave Harry the cup. He nearly dropped it but she caught it before he drenched himself.
"Sorry, I forgot how lose some pain potions make your muscles. Let me help you."
Harry tried to protest but no sound came out. She brought the cup to his lips while supporting his head. Harry hated feeling so incompetent.
"You said potions, are you a witch?" 'Damn' she thought.
"No," she lied smoothly, "I think the medicines must have addled your brain."
"You're lying, I'm not stupid. Who are you, and why are you here?"
Harry had a coughing fit, and she looked surprised. She tugged at her shoulder length, dark brown hair nervously while she waited for the coughing to subside.
"My name's Mikicha okay. I'm a healer in training, and a member of the Order. I just recently got inducted. I'm supposed to watch over you."
"I should have figured I'd get caught. Is everyone mad at me? You don't look very old. How old are you?"
Mikicha felt his emerald eyes searching hers. She looked at him and answered reluctantly. "I don't think they're made. Worried yes, mad no. Your friends and your Aunt are here. You aren't supposed to have visitors though. And to satisfy your curiosity I'm 18. But don't go asking for more information on me 'cause you won't get any."
"Listen to me Mikicha, you are going to fetch my friends and my Aunt, or I will get out of bed and find them myself."
"Don't you go threatening me. I'll go fetch them, but the doctor has to look over you first."
Harry agreed. The muggle doctor annoyed him to no end by asking him pointless questions repeatedly. Harry bit his tongue to keep from asking the doctor if he was right in the head.
"Alright you're looking good. No coma, no brain damage, and no nerve damage. All good news. You're as healthy as a horse." 'Definitely not sound in the head,' thought Harry.
"I best leave before your friends break down the door."
The doctor left, and not even ten seconds later his friends and Aunt came crashing through the door.
"Harry we were so worried. What were you thinking?" chastised Hermione slightly breathlessly.
"I'm sorry but I wasn't sure my information was reliable, but I couldn't not act upon it if it was."
"Everyone in the Order is in an uproar. There are auror's all over the building. Half of England knows you're here."
"Yeah mate, the Minister of Magic and the Muggle Prime Minister are both here. McGonagall's here too. She's dealing with them right now."
"Harry," said his Aunt gently, " I know you don't really want to hear this but you're a national hero in both words."
"Yeah," Ron agreed "The muggles are calling you the Boy-Who-Lived."
Ron cracked up, and Hermione was obviously trying not to laugh, but she was failing horribly. Harry looked revolted. He wanted to scream.
"This is not funny. This is horrible. How dare they."
"I think it's hilarious," Ron grit out.
All the exits are mobbed with screaming fans. Everyone wants to see the boy who saved their Minister. Hopefully all the muggles will discourage Voldemort from trying anything. There are anti-apparation wards on the whole building."
Harry was feeling a little overwhelmed. Sure he'd dealt with fighting Voldemort, but somehow this was different. Harry's head and vision was swimming. He wished his Aunt and friends goodbye, and slumped down in his bed. Not ten seconds later there was another knock on the door. Mentally Harry groaned.
"Come in," Harry called. McGonagall entered followed by the Muggle Minister, Tonks (disguised), Moody, and Kingsley. Scimgeour was absent. Moody answered Harry's unasked question.
"Minister Scrimgeour had duties that he needed to attend to," said Moody with great distaste.
The muggle Minister gave Harry a serene smile. "Well Mr. Potter I must thank you. I still can't believe that you managed to defeat 13 assassins yourself, but I'm very impressed. From what I've been told you're used to celebrity status."
Harry blushed. "I'm not a celebrity Minister, just someone trying to make the world a safer place. What did you do with the Deatheaters? Any new faces?"
It was Moody who answered. " The Deatheater's are being shipped off to Azkaban. It's being guarded by auror's now. All captured Deatheaters are sent there. They can't leave the island due to the new ward spells in place. Most of the Deatheater's are new recruits, however one of them might be of interest to you. Apparently Lucius Malfoy has a sister. She had a daughter named Colleen. She was heading the operation apparently. The more Malfoy's in jail the better, if you ask me."
"Not much new there then."
"Well Mr. Potter thank you again. If you don't mind I must be on my way. I have to deal with the papers."
"I can sympathize with you there."
The Minister gave a tired chuckle. "Have a good school term. Try to stay out of trouble, though from what I've been told that's one thing you've yet to accomplish. Be safe. Good bye and good luck."
"Thank you Minister," said Harry shaking his hand.
The Minister walked out the door, and with one last wave of departure was gone. Harry slumped back against the pillows. He relaxed his face; he didn't have to maintain his façade of strength. He closed his eyes.
"I hate to interrupt your peace, but we have an escape to plan."
Harry opened his eyes to see Minerva, Moody, Tonks, and Kingsley gathered around his bed. He had forgotten they were there.
"Honestly Moody, can't you let the boy have a moment of peace. He's been through a lot," said Minerva defensively.
"Well," Moody countered, "if he had asked for help then maybe he wouldn't be in such shit shape. It's his fault he's injured. How stupid can a person be? Honestly, trying to take on 13 Deatheaters, it's ridiculous."
"I didn't think it'd be that many. I thought it'd be more like 8."
"No, you didn't think at ALL!"
"Moody leave him alone. He's still just a boy. Everyone makes mistakes."
"He's a boy who needs to grow up. Mistakes get you killed. Everyone else can afford to die. He's the savior of the wizarding world, he can't die."
Harry blinked away the hot tears that were beginning to form in his eyes. It wouldn't do him any good to cry, especially not in front of Moody. It would just confirm his beliefs that Harry was weak and stupid.
Minerva had heard enough. She stood up, pointed a shaking finger at the door, and screamed, "Get out. Get out this instant. I will not sit here and let you slander this poor boy. Get out, all of you."
Kingsley and Tonks needed no further prompting. Moody was in a far more defiant mood. Minerva shot him one last deadly glare be for he reluctantly left. She sunk into the chair beside his bed heavily.
"Thank you," Harry whispered, "but Moody was right. Mistakes do get people killed."
Harry felt his eyes prickle. He couldn't keep them from spilling over. Dumbledore's death was still too fresh in his mind.
"Oh Harry no. Moody was wrong." She enveloped him in a big hug. "He was wrong. He doesn't remember what it's like to be a teenager. He doesn't know what you go through. He doesn't remember what it feels like to be alone, and confused. Trying to find your place in the world isn't ever easy."
Harry hated himself for crying, but it just needed to happen. There was no fighting what he felt. No hiding it. Snape was right. He wore his heart proudly on his sleeves. The funny thing was that he no longer cared. He was beyond caring what everyone else thought.
Minerva would never think less of him for crying. But secretly, even though she'd never admit it, nothing scared her more. No one deserved to suffer so much. She sat on the corner of his bed, and he melted into her embrace. She knew that Harry trusted her. She was determined never to lose that trust.
Minerva reached up and wiped away the last traces of his tears. "We must get you out of here. Are you ready to reek a bit of havoc?"
"Always." She laughed. "What's the plan?" Minerva reached over and whispered the plan in his ear.
15 minutes later Harry found himself fully dressed and ready to go.
He opened his door a crack, and peered cautiously out into the hall. He saw one nurse but she turned a corner. The second she was out of sight Harry dashed across the hall. He found the window that Minerva had described at the end of the corridor.
Stealthily Harry opened the window, and climbed out onto the fire escape. He shut the window carefully, wincing when it snapped shut. He crept quickly down the rickety stairs. They made an awful noise but Harry ignored it. The metal stairs were old and corroded. In some places the metal was so rusty that it crumbled beneath his feet.
Harry saw a flash of purple move beneath his feet. He was almost to the bottom. Just three more stories to go. "Hey you there, where do you think you're going?" A doctor had spotted him through an open window. "Get back here."
"Harry run," Tonks yelled.
Harry dashed away quickly. But by now the man was out the window. The man was hot on his trail. Harry finished the last level of stairs. He ran down the straight away. That was when Harry realized that the plan had a major flaw. From the end of the escape to the ground was 15 feet (5 yards).
"Harry just jump, don't think."
Harry reached the end and hesitated for a brief second. Then he closed his eyes and jumped. His legs buckled when they hit the ground. Moody and Kingsley pulled him to his feet, and everyone started running down the alleyway. When they reached the main road the doctor gave up his pursuit.
Harry's lungs were still very weak and the short run had winded him severely. His vision began to swim. "Come on Potter," Moody growled, "get a move on. We're too closed to the muggles to apparate. I promised Molly we'd be there by seven."
Harry was so dizzy that he couldn't stand up anymore. He staggered to the nearest bench, and sunk down heavily. His head was pounding so loudly that he couldn't hear what Minerva and Moody were saying. Harry let the wave of vertigo over take him. He felt himself fall forward. Strong arms pulled him upright.
"Harry," Tonks said, "there's a motel across the street. Kingsley and I are going to spend the night with you. You're not ready to travel yet."
Harry nodded weakly. Tonks and Kingsley pulled him to his feet. He walked unsteadily across the street, leaning heavily on both of them. Tonks fetched a key for their room. Harry in a final act of desperation attempted to climb the stairs. Even with Tonks and Kingsley's help he couldn't do it. Kingsley picked him up and threw Harry over his shoulder.
Tonks stopped in front of room 8. She quickly unlocked the door, and held it open for Kingsley. Kingsley walked into the dark room and deposited Harry on the nearest bed. Harry was asleep before Tonks had even shut the door.
Author's Note: Okay so I didn't finish this on Friday. The concert was awesome! Sorry this took so long. I have my scholarship applications due this Thursday but after that my workload should be lightening up. Can you believe that I have to go to school until the 23. Mean, mean people. Review please. Thanks. Think of it as your Christmas present to me.
