Beta: Digitize27

Collecting Part I

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"The web of our life is of a mingled yarn, good and ill together." - Shakespeare, All's Well that Ends Well

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Harry's head swam as he came slowly into consciousness. He grew more and more powerful in his dream until, eventually, he was awake. It was an odd sensation; like he was filling an empty vessel.

He looked around and found himself surrounded by clean white walls. The lights were onbnoxiously bright and forced him to blink constantly until his vision adjusted. He was wearing clean blue robes that felt like paper, rough and noisy against his skin, unlike the nice robes he usually wore. He felt a brief petulant surge of anger – Daphne had helped him pick out those robes – but he just as quickly dismissed the feeling. Occlumency seemed to be working fine for him in that respect, but who could say how a concussion would affect his abilities.

Right now he couldn't seem to get a bead on the position of the people he knew must be staffing this hospital, or at least, not all of them at once. Sleeping off a concussion. Harry was sure that was supposed to be a fairly terrible medical practice. The books he had read on the brain had suggested that it was possible to slip into a coma. So, this was good news, he supposed; he wasn't in a coma.

A ward went off next to him as he sat up, a simple alert by the feel of it. He must have crossed some sort of trip-wire. Harry stretched his arms out, trying to ignore the pounding in his head before his eyes flashed open and looked at his left arm.

He flexed it and twisted his wrist around. No pain. With magic, broken bones were child's play. He looked around. His wand and mirror were gone with no place they could be in sight. Hopefully they were both with Dumbledore. It was possible they had been broken in the fight.

There was a knock at the door and Harry replied with a perfunctory invitation, finding no trouble with his voice. It was a mediwizard in clean white robes that stepped in, a red caduceus odorning his robes. The man drew his wand and stepped inwards.

"All awake? Good, good. How are we feeling?"

"Not great," Harry returned.

"That's fair," The wizard responded with a chuckle. "You were in bad shape when you came in." He gently raised his wand so as not to come off threatening. "Alright I'm going to shine a light in your eyes." The tip of it glowed in a steady, narrow beam. He pointed it in Harry's eyes to check for dilation. "Looks good. Any ringing in the ears? Confusion?"

"No ringing, but would you mind telling me where I am? What happened?"

"You're in Saint Mungo's. You were brought in by the department of Magical Law Enforcement."

"Am I under arrest?"

"Oh no. The man you dueled, he was a Death Eater named Barty Crouch Jr., it was all quite the snafu."

"Barty Crouch Jr.?" Harry asked. "He's supposed to be dead."

"Well he is now, I'm told it was quite the duel. The obliviators had to run around and play catch up all day, though I suppose it couldn't be helped."

"A girl came with me; Daphne Greengrass. She didn't check in here with me, did she?"

"I'm sorry, I can't talk about other patients with you, so I can't confirm or deny."

Harry nodded along. It made enough sense that he would acquiesce for now. The fact Barty Crouch Jr. had been around was very concerning; as were his modifications. If Voldemort could do that now, what could he do when he had a body? Harry thought he was up to the challenge of fighting most people, but someone who had been purposefully designed to counter him had pushed him right to his limits.

Voldemort could probably do even better than that. Was Barty Crouch just a first model? A prototype? He wouldn't have been able to apparate what with being a walking anti-apparition ward, so he must have been waiting near the Dursley's house for some time. Had Voldemort known Harry would come back? How?

"Where is my wand?" Harry asked the nurse equivalent. "When am I being discharged?"

"Your wand?" The man asked. "You'll get your clothes and personal effects back when you're discharged. Which should be soon. You were concussed when you came in but you're not showing any symptoms. How's your arm?"

"It doesn't hurt. A little tender I suppose." Harry rolled his wrist some more. "Can there be complications with the bone-mending spell?"

"There can be complications with any medical spell, so we like to check." The man spoke while writing something on a note. He folded it and held it up in the air. It whizzed to a nearby pipe that seemed purpose-made for such memos and vanished out of sight. "Alright, is there anything else bothering you?"

Harry shook his head. "No, sir."

"Well then, I can't think of any reason to keep you. We'll get your discharge papers ready now." The man walked out and shut the door behind him.

Harry lay back down and closed his eyes. He had known it could be a trap and he had walked right into it. The sheer obviousness of it all, in hindsight, burned him up from the inside.

Daphne…

She could have been hurt, could have been killed by his stupid mistake. That raked at him. He needed to do better. More than that, there was no way of knowing how this would affect the battle over his custodianship or what position he had put Dumbledore in, again. Sure, the man was keeping secrets from him, but he still did his best to help Harry.

There was another knock at the door. "Come," Harry called out.

The door swept open and in walked a dark-skinned man with a clean-shaven head. "Mr. Potter, my name is Kingsley Shacklebolt with the Auror Department. Do you mind answering a few questions?"

Harry nodded. The man shut the door behind him a girl stepped in, her hair changing colors as she walked. Harry watched her with interest. A metamorphmagus. There was supposed to have been one at Hogwarts his first year, but he hadn't had the chance to observe their abilities up close.

Auror Shacklebolt pulled the only chair in the room over to Harry's bed and took a seat.

The younger woman crossed her arms behind her. She had a heart shaped face right now, and her hair went from long elegant curls to a short and spiky formation as he watched on. "Wotcher, Harry."

Harry eyed her curiously, prompting the auror to explain. "This is Nymphadora Tonks, she's shadowing me today for her auror training, she can stay or leave, at your preference."

Harry shrugged. "It doesn't bother me."

"Now Harry, if I can call you Harry?" Harry nodded. "Yes, we have some questions about what happened to you this last Sunday."

The man's tone was gentle, too gentle. Like he was talking to a child or someone in the hospital who had been attacked. A puzzler, that.

"What were you doing in Little Whinging?"

"I wanted to see the house I grew up in, my last family was killed there." A technical truth.

From Harry's position he saw a necklace dangling at Kingsley's neck. It had a wooden token, a bird. A phoenix, at a guess. It seemed Dumbledore had followers everywhere. Was the Headmaster putting his Order back together? Or did the man wear it all the time? Regardless the man nodded along.

"For your safety we ask that you remain where your guardians can keep an eye on you in the future." Harry nodded. Not unreasonable, given the circumstances.

"Now this man who attacked you, did he say anything?"

"Only that he was a tool of his master and that he implied he had been waiting for me." Harry hesitated. "He only used spells to try and capture me. Things would have gone differently if he was trying to kill me."

"He was trying to kidnap you?" Auror Tonks asked.

Harry nodded. "I strongly suspect so, he could have crushed my throat if he was so inclined and he never cast spells that could have been lethal. He wanted me alive."

"Do you know why he was trying to kidnap you? Where he was going to take you?"

Harry shook his head. "I'm not sure, sir."

"That's alright." Harry found the man's saccharine tone distinctly unpleasant, reminding him of patronizing teachers from his youth. "It was an impressive fight, you should be proud."

Harry shrugged. "I brought my friend with me, Daphne Greengrass, she wasn't hurt, was she? Where is she?"

"Just a little shaken," The man informed him. "Ms. Greengrass is already at Beauxbatons. She's quite alright." Harry felt himself relax at the news, he thought she wasn't hurt but the fact was that he hadn't been sure. The risk had been gnawing at him, making his stomach feel bottomless.

But it wasn't like she was safe at Beauxbatons either, not with Malachite in and out of the place as she pleased.

"Is there anything else I should know?"

"I don't think so," Harry told the man.

"I think that's everything we need, Trainee Tonks? Can you think of anything else?" A test for her? Or was he genuinely asking?

"You mentioned a master. Do you know who?" The Trainee asked.

"I suspect it was Voldemort?"

"I knew it," she breathed. "It's like Dumbledore-"

"Enough Tonks." The man cut her off.

"You're both members of the Order?" Harry asked. He eyed the girl again, taking her in a new light. She wasn't just a metamorphmagus, she was Dumbledore's metamorphmagus. "What has Dumbledore told you?"

"You know about the Order?" Trainee Tonks asked.

"Nymphadora Tonks," Auror Shacklebolt inflected harshly. "Sorry, Harry, its Dumbledore's-well, his orders."

Harry stroked his chin as they exited, deep in thought.

Dumbledore wouldn't be idle in the face of Voldemort. Not again. Not after his idleness with Grindelwald, with Tom the first time, and with Harry at the Dursley's. The Headmaster would take action, he'd continue investigating. Harry could leave it to him, but then, Harry wasn't the idle type either.

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Dumbledore was Harry's next visitor. He had been feeling the minds that walked by as, at this distance, with his level of familiarity, it wasn't like he had much else to do. Besides, most were passing blurs of vague emotion, like smudges on a lens, but Harry recognized Dumbledore immediately just from the distant grating against his mind. "Come in," Harry said before the sorcerer could knock.

The wizard stepped inside and took the chair.

"Harry, I must confess my disappointment in you. Will you tell me why you went to your family's home?"

That stung, hard, but Harry nodded, "I wanted to know how they died, that's why I took Daphne. I also wanted her to know what happened to me there. I'm sorry, I never should have gone to the house."

"You had every right to visit the house. Harry, I'm disappointed you didn't share this with me." What? "I strongly doubt that the idea of seeing the house you grew up in came ex nihilo." That was true, Harry had been considering it for a while, but he also had things he wanted to keep from Dumbledore. "Harry, you must know that you can share anything with me?"

Albus Dumbledore reclined slightly steepling his fingers as he did. "Or do you feel as though you can't trust me?"

Harry felt a strong desire to be honest. To ask about horcruxes, to trust the wizard like he used to, but he couldn't. It felt like a weight on his soul. He had trusted Grindelwald by asking and he couldn't bring himself to do the same with Dumbledore. Not after he had pulled Secrets of the Darkest Arts.

But that didn't mean he couldn't trust him with other things. Could he trust Dumbledore with asking about the Hallows? Grindelwald had told him about how they pursued them together and finally found the Elder Wand. Could Harry ask about that? He wanted to, he really did.

"I'm…" Harry trailed off, unable to finish, but Dumbledore sat patiently, evidently content to wait. "Sir, I'm terrified. All the time." It was true. Of Malachite. Of losing his friends. Of being alone. Of being like Grindelwald and Voldemort. Of himself too. "There's something cruel in me, sir. Something that wants to hurt people."

"Do you enjoy hurting things, Harry?" Harry supposed he should be surprised the man hadn't asked about the Hallows first, unstoppable marks of death in the world would have attracted Harry's attention more than the fears of a fourteen-year-old. The Professor's tone was even but sympathetic, unlike the too sweet tone of the auror earlier.

"Yes," Harry breathed, "and no. When I fought Malfoy, or any of the others at Hogwarts I didn't enjoy hurting them. I enjoyed being better. But recently… I enjoyed killing the Tarrasque. I enjoy hurting my enemies in duels, ever since Gabrielle Delacour. I didn't have to hurt her, or any of the others, even if they were trying to hurt me. I don't know what's wrong with me."

"You say this is recent?" The man calmly asked.

"I think so, but how can I be sure? What if this is me? What if I'm not like you? What if I'm like Tom and Gellert. Is the cruelty a part of me? I enjoy revenge. I enjoy beating the people who stand against me."

"Revenge is a very human emotion, Harry," the man explained, every bit the teacher in that instant. But there was no aged condescension in his words, only a quiet – dare he believe it – understanding. "Our fury and fear are a part of us. But we shan't allow them to rule us, as people. What about the things that bring you joy? Discovery? Research?" Dumbledore stroked his beard. "So, Harry allow me to bed your fears. Tom would never have cared for Ms. Greengrass as you have. He would have attempted to collect her talent, but that is all. You care for her feelings. Even, I suspect, reciprocate some of them, if I may be so bold. You are not like Voldemort in that regard, Harry. Your talents and power make you superficially similar. It's in your feeling and intentions that the differences are all too visible."

Harry curled up slightly and rested his hands on his knees. He felt so small. He wanted to run and hide and curl up in a cupboard.

"Fear can overwhelm us at times, but we can, and must, rise above it. We all require help, at times, there is no shame in that." Dumbledore reached out an arm and gently lay his hand on Harry's shoulder. "You aren't alone, Harry."

Harry felt like crying, and he did, but only a little. He wiped his eyes. Relaxing into the physical contact.

"How do you know? You're as lost as I am," Harry muttered without true accusation. "You've made mistakes too."

"I'm, what was it you told Ms. Granger? 'Personally responsible for no small part of all the horrible events of the last century.' Indeed, I am. And when Gellert raised his army I was alone. I couldn't bring myself to face him, I was, I confess, too afraid. But Harry, we must face our fears before they face us. That is the only way to live. The very act of being alive."

"The man, Barty Crouch Jr., he was designed to take me. Nothing I did could stop him." The man actually reminded Harry of some of the Headmaster's instruments. Silvery, enchanted, and built with terrific purpose.

"Yes, it seems that, of late, Azkaban is struggling to hold her prisoners." Dumbledore nodded. "Voldemort is out there, as is the Lady Malachite, but you are able rise above them both, if only you let yourself."

"I'm sorry." Harry looked at him. "I'm sorry." He meant it.

Dumbledore blinked in surprise. Harry thought tears were welling in the man's eyes. He himself was barely keeping it together. It was hard facing the truth.

"Yes." His Grandfather figure nodded. "But we must live with our mistakes. I'm afraid I won't remain your custodian for long. This last incident will, I regret, prove too much for me, but we shall survive, I think. Sirius Black is the only other contender. We shall manage. Your recent feelings are, I suspect, a result of Voldemort growing in strength. You are connected and, as he grows stronger, more of him will influence you. But I believe, as I always have, that you can resist him."

Harry nodded along. "How is he getting stronger?"

"I suspect more of his followers being free has improved his health to a degree, in which case he should now be weaker without Barty Crouch Jr. among his ranks."

Harry could accept that. With followers there was the chance of him doing rituals and affecting the world in ways that using unwilling wizards or muggles couldn't.

But there was one more thing.

"Sir, about the Hallows…"

"Oh, you know about them, do you? Yes Gellert and I sought them, even found one. I had hoped to pass the one I claimed on to you one day. I never had children as you know full well, but I can't help but think of my pride in you as being similar."

Harry found himself swallowing again. The feeling felt thick and heavy in his chest. It reminded him of how he felt when he thought of Luna Lovegood or Tanyushka Malachite.

"Difficult times are ahead, Harry. Especially for you, and I must ask more of you. Ask you to play the game, as it were. Our enemies have made the first move, now we must reciprocate."

"You're gathering your Order." Harry stated.

Dumbledore nodded, "Voldemort gathers his strength, we must gather our own to oppose him. But for now, Harry, rest. There will be enough weight set on your shoulders soon enough."

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Harry checked out of the Hospital, changing into clothes that Dumbledore had brought for him from his trunk at school – and didn't that make him feel heavy. He collected his wand and mirror and was happy to see they weren't damaged.

He would have had to remake the entire set of mirrors if his own broke; they were all tied through his mirror and then to each other. He should probably fix that anyway so that new ones could be added to the network easily.

His whole body was stiff with lack of use, but sitting in bed for two days will do that. Hopefully he would stretch out after a bit of practice with his dueling.

There was a crowd waiting for Harry as he walked out, reporters holding quills and paper, desperately trying to get the first word on the greatest story or the first official interview with the Boy-Who-Lived and future master of the arcane.

"Mr. Potter? Mr. Potter who attacked you?" A man pushing his way to the front of the throng asked.

Harry paused, could he work this to his advantage? Dumbledore had told him to play the game, after all. He shook his head, there was little he could do without Daphne here. He didn't know anything. He didn't have a stance on the statute of secrecy or who-knew-what other rallying points.

He marched to the designated apparition areas, ignoring the entire world and disapparated with a crack to make his way to Beauxbatons. It was late by the time he arrived and the first thing he did was seek out Daphne. He could feel her in the library and immediately made a beeline there. Inside, on the first floor, he could see her pacing back and forth. She was wringing her hands incessantly.

When he stepped inside, her face lit up like somebody had incanted 'lumos'. He barely had time to close the door behind him before she took three long steps and embraced him. He held her around the waist close to him, squeezing tight and breathing in the smell of honey and cream.

"Hey," he said dumbly.

"Hi," she whispered back. She drew back, taking his hands in both of hers.

"Do you have my cloak?" He asked. It was the first thing he thought of. It had been kind of bothering him since he had checked out and it wasn't with his things.

She hit his chest with her hand and looked away. There were tears in her eyes. "That's the first thing to you say to me? Unbelievable." She sighed. "That's so you." It made him smile.

"I'm glad you're okay," he said more quietly.

"Too late. You ruined it." She sat down with a huff. "I'm glad you're safe."

The image of him bouncing off the pavement looped over and over in her head. He wanted to say it hadn't been so bad but there he was hitting the pavement and making that sickening crunch.

"I'm sorry," he told her sincerely. "I don't regret you knowing, but I knew it could have been a trap. I was arrogant and selfish. I wanted to know how they died and how to handle my enemies, but I didn't warn you about everything. I put both your mind and life at risk."

She leaned her forehead against his chest from her sitting position. Closing her eyes. Her mind reeled against his and he gently soothed her.

"Your cloak is in your trunk. You jerk." Harry reached out and held her head in her hands. "I'm just so tired of it. Maybe I should almost die. See how you like it." She muttered. "I'm so useless."

He could tell she really thought that she was useless, it bit at him. He held her head against him. Relishing the feeling. "You're not useless. You know laws and politics."

She looked up him.

[Really? That's all?]

"No- I meant you have things I don't. You can do things I just can't. I need you."

The front of his shirt felt wet. "You can't keep doing this to me."

I will keep you safe.

He pushed the thought into her mind, promising it wasn't what she wanted to hear but he needed to say it.

"Then teach me. I need to know how to fight. Do you have any idea how I felt? It was awful, and I just couldn't do anything about it."

[I'm so impotent.]

"You know I will. It'll help keep you safe."

You saved me.

"I was so scared. I thought he was going to kill you."

"I think he was under orders to take me alive. But he couldn't leave any witnesses, you were in more danger than I was."

"Ugh." She put her face back into his shirt. She gripped his clothes tight in her hands and Harry held her face while she cried. "You can't let me have anything."

I'll give you anything I can.

[Harry…?]

"It's okay. We'll be okay. Malachite, Voldemort, your father. We can handle all of it. We can do it together. We're a good team."

[Harry, I don't want you to leave me.]

"I don't want you to leave me either. You're my best friend."

"I worry about you so much."

I know.

"Thank you." He meant it.

Harry crouched down meeting her eyes. "Will you go to the Yule Ball with me?"

She nodded. Her cute face scrunched up from crying. "You know I will."

"I have enemies. They'll be yours too," Harry told her and, though it was a warning, it wasn't a refusal. "I need to gain followers and figure out how to get to deal with the tournament. We'll need to fight off Voldemort and Malachite and figure out what happened to your father."

[That's a lot.]

It was. Odds were that one of those things would eventually best him.

"But I want to do it all with you."

She nodded, unable to speak.

[I'll always help you, Harry.]

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"'I hate', from hate away she threw,
And saved my life, saying 'not you.'" - Shakespeare Sonnets

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-WG