Author's Notes: Wow! Thanks for all the reviews and encouragement. It helped this past week. I'm afraid this chapter will be the last for the next two weeks or so. I have finals coming up the second week of December and although I had already started to prepare for them, I do not feel ready and must continue studying. I will update my first day of winter vacation. See you then!
"Harry, come along." Harry looked up from his books and wondered what it was that Bleys wanted. He never interrupted Harry when he was reading. Harry marked his place and pulled on his outer robe as he went outside the cottage.
"What is it?" He asked as his eyes adjusted to the light.
"You need some exercise. I'm feeling the need for some venison. We are going hunting." Harry stood with the bow in his hand, feeling just the slightest bit foolish. He was likely to kill Bleys by tripping over it. Sensei would be cringing in a very comical way if he could see Harry now. Harry had no idea how to use that weapon and the number one rule of weapons was not to handle a weapon you did not know how to use..
"I don't know how to use this." He said, holding it up. Better to tell the man and get it over with than do something that could possibly result in maiming or death. Bleys smirked and dropped his robe on the doorstep. It looked like Harry was not going to get an understanding mentor today. How he wanted to go back to his book!
"It's time you learned." Harry stared at him. People just didn't use bows and arrows anymore, much less hunted (unless they wanted to). He wondered how much Bleys had poked around in his head before he had woken up. "Get rid of that robe, you don't need it." Harry folded his own robe next to Bleys's and accepted the quiver of arrows as Bleys led him into the forest. This was going to end in disaster. Harry knew it. Alright, so technically, they couldn't really get hurt because they were trapped in Harry's mind, but that didn't mean they couldn't feel pain. Harry had burned himself here before, and skinned knees (from the fact that he grew a bit more everyday) reminded him that pain was inescapable. If he followed logic, then death, technically, was still possible. Harry had never wished for a mistake in his logic before this. He hoped that he was wrong.
"What, exactly, am I looking for?" He asked as he lengthened his own stride to keep up with Bleys, frustration leaking through his voice though he had tried to hold it back. He was ten years old now and was enjoying the addition to his height, though Bleys still outpaced him easily.
"Deer." Bleys answered shortly. "Or rabbit. Any game will do. I'm tired of fish." Small wonder. They had been eating fish for weeks. "Try to keep up, Harry. You have longer legs now. Use them." Bleys said as he adjusted the quiver across his own back. Harry glared at the man's back. It wasn't his fault that he was short! Bleys had done it. Harry liked being sixteen. And tall!
"Why aren't we using magic?" Harry asked. He figured that magic would be a lot easier than this…primitive method of procuring food. Bleys had taught Harry how to catch fish with magic. Why would deer be any different? Bleys did not answer. Harry shrugged and followed the man, thoroughly lost by now. He doubted that he would be able to find his own way out if he needed to. He couldn't make landmarks when all he could see was Bleys' back and a few scraggly branches over his head. He decided that Bleys would tell him why they weren't using magic when Bleys was ready. If he ever was ready. Harry could see when the man spotted what he was looking for. Bleys relaxed into a crouch and gestured Harry down next to him. He pointed through the bushes. There in the clearing was a deer. Bleys notched an arrow and let it fly. The deer startled and ran from the arrow. So, it was not as easy as Bleys had implied. Good. Maybe then, Bleys would give up this idea of weapons and use magic. It made everything so much easier.
"Blast." Bleys whispered. He stood from his crouch and gestured Harry to follow him as quietly as possible. Harry followed Bleys around for a while until they came to another deer. Bleys motioned for Harry to take a shot. Harry pulled out an arrow and notched it as Bleys had shown him earlier. "Lock your left arm." He whispered. Harry followed his instructions. "Pull back." Harry pulled back until Bleys stopped him. Harry was staring down the arrow at the deer. Was he actually going to do this? Bleys opened one hand and Harry followed the instructions. The arrow left the string and struck the deer right in the neck. Bleys sent a second arrow just after Harry's and smiled when he saw that the animal fell. Bleys left the bushes and took out his knife.
"I didn't think I could do it." Harry said as he sank down in the bushes. Bleys cocked an eyebrow at him as he cleaned his knife. "I killed it." Harry sat and stared at the bushes around him. Why did Bleys insist upon his doing it? Bleys was the better shot.
"Are all boys from your time this squeamish about death?" Bleys asked as he moved the deer around into a better position. "It is better for the deer, in the long run." Bleys told him.
Harry stood. "How is it better? It's dead." He demanded as he dropped the bow. He never wanted to use it again. He would go to the market like everyone else.
"Better to die a quick death than one of starvation, don't you think?" Bleys asked as he picked up the deer. "Some consider this mercy."
"What?" Harry was terribly confused. What did that have to do with anything?
Bleys gathered himself and sighed. "Don't they teach you anything about how the world works?" Bleys asked rhetorically as he motioned for Harry to get the weapons. Harry gathered them reluctantly and followed as Bleys turned back in the general direction of the cottage. Bleys gave off an air of one preparing for a difficult discussion and not too happy about it all.
"Animals will continue to reproduce until something checks that reproduction. Most of the time, man does it, whether through hunting or some other means. If the animals were not hunted, their population would explode, leading to a slow death through either starvation or disease. This way, man gets something new to eat, and the entire population of deer does not starve or die from disease." Bleys led Harry through the woods and back towards the cottage. Harry swatted errant branches away from his face as they flew back from being pushed aside by Bleys. This was not fun. He hated being short. "It's all about balance. Sometimes a population becomes indolent, diseased, and sick and must die out. This looks like a terrible catastrophe, but it helps in the end, because the next generation is stronger, healthier, and more likely to adapt to new demands. Once that population becomes lazy, the next rises to take its place."
"We've stopped talking about deer, haven't we?" Harry asked as he followed behind Bleys. Something was ticking in Harry's mind, calling up certain wizards to his mental eye.
"Yes. Do you know what I'm talking about now?" Bleys asked as he put the deer down behind the cottage. "Get me a pail of water. Non-magically." Harry rolled his eyes and retrieved the water.
"My wizarding world?" Harry guessed as he returned from the well with the requested pail of water. Bleys accepted it and smiled at Harry before turning back to continue in his work with the deer..
"Exactly. The wizards have become lazy, doing what is easy, rather than what is right." Bleys started to disassemble the deer, showing Harry little tricks that made the work go faster and that Harry was sure he would never need again. "They allow the prejudices of others to grow and expand, to color their tidy little world with violence and despair, and then wonder how things came to such a difficult end." Bleys shook his head as he started to cut the meat into strips. Harry wondered how he was going to get the blood out of his clothes. He was literally covered in it, almost up to his eyebrows. "I find wizards from your time fascinating. They have forgotten something important about the wizard Merlin that is so important to them." He explained.
"What have they forgotten?" Harry asked as he got his own hands dirty at Bleys' instructions. This was interesting, but also incredibly disgusting at the same time. Harry scratched his face and found that he had only succeeded in getting blood on his face. Ugh. He wanted a hot bath with lots of soap. Alden came bounding out of the house and started sniffing round the pair as they worked. "Down, Alden." Alden dropped back on his haunches and waited patiently for his human to be done with the task so they could play. He loved playing with the short one and could almost see the stick he would chase.
"Merlin was a half-blood, too." Bleys said with a smile as he turned away from the dog. "Most of us are. There are not enough for us to go around marrying each other. Every one of my students has been a half-blood. The purebloods from your time, well, they strike me as hopelessly backwards. Only those who wish for decay wishes to marry their own cousins." Bleys gave a theatrical shudder. Harry snorted and took his bundle inside the house as Bleys directed.
"Are you a half-blood?" Harry asked as Bleys entered from behind him.
Bleys stopped and considered Harry for a few minutes. "I'm not really sure. I never knew my parents. I grew up with a kind wizard who took me in when I was rather young. I vaguely remember being on my own, but I cannot remember how long I was, nor how old I was when that happened. He told me that I was a magical child and must be trained. I accepted it. I knew I could do odd things and welcomed the chance to control it, because I had no control at all before that. I like to think I am a half-blood. I can't imagine any wizard married to a witch." Harry smiled as Bleys started to put things away in their place in the little cottage. He looked down at Harry for a moment before smiling. "Go play with Alden, before he drives me mad with his sniffing."
Harry looked down at his robes and then back up at Bleys. The man couldn't be serious. He was covered in blood, much like his teacher. He needed to clean up first. Bleys rolled his eyes and motioned with one hand. The boy could be so vain about his appearance sometimes. Harry found himself cleaned up after the gesture. Bleys nudged him to the door and shut it behind him. "Don't come back until sunset. You've been studying too much!" Harry almost argued, but decided that it would make him too much like Hermione. Alden jumped up and down in place beside him, practically wagging his tail off in excitement.
"Go get a stick." Harry said with a smile. He liked the dog and wondered if he would get one when he was older. The animal had a wicked personality. Alden bounded off with a happy bark and came back with a stick. Harry accepted the stick and tossed it for the dog. Harry started walking as Alden dashed off for his stick. Bleys had allowed him to wander where he would, since he could find his way to the cottage, so long as he made landmarks. It was his mind, after all. Harry let his mind wander as he walked among the shady trees. So Bleys thought that modern wizards were lazy, and deserved what was happening as some sort of external control? It made sense, in a way. A very convoluted way. From what Bleys had said, it sounded like Voldemort was nothing more than a disease to the wizarding world. Could that be true? And if so, what did that make Harry? Cough medicine? Harry smirked as Alden came back and dropped the stick at his feet. Harry tossed it again and continued walking.
If what Bleys said was true, did that mean that evil would continue to come back, no matter how many times it was destroyed? Harry knew that he didn't want anyone else going through the kind of life he had experienced. It was too hard. It wasn't fair. Why should one person be the answer to such a large problem? Was that like it everywhere, where one person was responsible for the fate of millions, or did it just mean that he was part of that control of which Bleys had spoken? What was the difference between the solution of one problem and the start of a next? Would Harry destroy Voldemort, only to watch another rise in Voldemort's place? He didn't think that he could continue on if that were to happen. Harry racked his brain to find a permanent solution to Voldemort. He couldn't come up with an answer.
He looked up and noticed that it was rather dark in the trees now. Was it sunset already? It looked like it. He turned and started back the way he had come. He could make it back home like Bleys wanted without calling on his magic. He was sure of it. He looked around. Alden was not in sight.
"Alden! Here boy!" Harry listened for Alden's bark. Alden never left his side for long in the woods. In fact, that dog never really left his side, period. The crazy canine had even taken to sleeping at the foot of his bed, actually on top of Harry's feet. The first night the dog had done so caused Harry his first nightmare of Sirius in well over two months. He became a comforting presence the second night. No bark answered Harry's call. That was not good. Bleys would kill him if he lost his dog. Or, he thought he would be killed. The temperature dropped as more light disappeared. The birdsong that had been a forgotten background noise was conspicuous for not being there. The animals had all run away, but from what?
"Harry Potter. So this is where you have been hiding." Harry froze at the voice. He couldn't be found here. This was his mind. He refused to entertain anyone here he did not like. "I must say that you have created a nice little forest here." Voldemort stepped out from behind one of the trees and approached Harry with an air of satisfaction he usually reserved for his Death Eaters. The man looked the same, but taller. That, Harry considered, was to be expected. He still looked like he was half-snake and half-human (a truly disgusting combination in Harry's opinion) and was giving the oddest evil smile. "You shrank." Harry fought back a smart remark at Voldemort's statement of the obvious. Voldemort patted Harry's head as though he found Harry adorable. If he was able toconsider something adorable. Harry fought not to shudder at the touch. He hated Voldemort touching him in anyway. At least the pain had stopped. Harry figured that repeated exposure to Voldemort's touch had inured him to the effects. "Why didn't I think of shrinking you? I'm sure you would have been much easier to handle during lessons." Voldemort said as he turned in a slow circle. Harry did not move. Voldemort considered any movement while he was not looking a form of treachery and would respond violently. The results of the paranoia were not pleasant. "So, this is what your subconscious looks like. Interesting."
Harry's subconscious? It didn't look like this at all. Harry would never design something in his own mind where he could get lost, much less so…relaxed. Frivolity got you killed in his life. He had no time for it. That and he did not like feeling lost. Harry kept his room clear, just in case. He also appeared as a sixteen year old. He would never think of looking like he was ten. That was such a vulnerable age. He liked sixteen much better. In fact, he thought he looked older than sixteen in his subconscious. What did that mean?
"Well, since we're both here, let's have a lesson." Voldemort said as he nudged Harry forward into a clearing. Something wasn't right. Something…but Harry couldn't figure out what was wrong. "Do you remember the last curse I taught you?" Harry nodded. "Wand out." Voldemort ordered. Harry patted down his robe. Where was his wand?
Harry thought back to the last time he had seen it. It had been the mask. He had last seen his wand when he tried to remove the mask from his face. What had happened to it? It had just disappeared; it had rolled away under the mirrors. Harry hadn't seen it since. He had forgotten, to be totally honest with himself. He had once considered it vital to his continued existence and experience had taught him that to be without his wand was to toy with his own life. This new fact surprised him. He did not need his wand. It was more than that. He did not want his wand. "Well, boy, where is it?" Voldemort snapped.
"I lost it." Harry answered. "I don't really need it in here." Harry said. Voldemort scowled and raised his wand.
"Crucio!" The spell hit Harry and threw him back into a tree. It felt like his nerve endings dislocated from the rest of his nervous system and then started marching in beat with Harry's heartbeat. Harry arched his back and fought to keep from vocalizing the pain he felt. He would not let Voldemort win. The spell should be coming off any second. Voldemort never held it for long. He wouldn't hold it for long. Fight it, Harry. Harry wondered where the voice came from. Push it out! Easier said than done. Get rid of the pain. Nice sentiment. Now, how could he do it? This was an Unforgivable Spell and could not be blocked by another spell.
Voldemort was not letting uponthe spell. He was not relaxing at all. If anything, it started to feel stronger. Harry felt blood well in his mouth. He had bit through his lip. There was nothing to hold back his screams now. Push it out! Forget your limitations! Harry opened his eyes to see something strange covering him. What was it? Push it off! Well, that made a bit more sense than what he had been told earlier. Harry groaned and allowed his magic to gather in his fingertips and behind his eyes. His glasses had fallen off sometime in the past. He opened his eyes again (when had closed them?) and asked for the magic to push away the other magic. He felt it gather for a second before leaving him to attack. He was surprised to find that it worked. He felt the spell end. He gasped in breaths of air. It was painful to breathe, but it was also painful not to breathe. His eyes fell closed as the dark trees melted away into a warm clearing. Bleys stood there with Alden at his side. The last thing Harry saw before passing out was a large smile on Bleys' face.
Petunia sat, sipping at the tea her husband had found for her. She didn't taste it, but it gave her something else to do besides talk to Harry. The Potions professor had settled into a chair on the other side of the boy, his…son…beside him. Well, Petunia thought the boy was his son, at any rate. The two of them acted like it. Remus Lupin still snoozed across from Harry, while Vernon amused himself with a book he found in the wing somewhere. Paul sat next to Petunia with a grim look on his face. Sensei mimicked him next to the Potions master, the man he called "Hadrian."
"I wish he would wake up." Paul told Petunia. Snape raised an eyebrow, but didn't comment. "He told me he ends in the hospital wing a lot. How do you stand it?" Paul asked of Petunia.
"I never know about it until after he's out. The headmaster doesn't bother to tell me that he's been hurt. He always says things like 'Harry was in hospital, but is fine now' in his notes to me." She told Paul. "Even if I wouldn't have gone, I would have known. That man plays it up as a great achievement. I wonder how many times Harry has done something that could have seriously hurt him." She put down her cup and sighed. "I still want to know. I want him to wake up." She said as she took Harry's hand again.
"Potter will wake up when he is ready." Snape snapped as he turned to Draco to whisper some direction in the boy's ear. Draco ignored him. "Are you disobeying a direct order about your safety?" Snape asked dangerously.
"Yes, sir." Draco answered. Snape glared the best he could. Draco only grinned. "That stopped working on me when I was eight." He confided.
"Can't blame me for trying." Snape said as he turned back to Potter. Petunia had reverted back to holding Potter's hand. How…sweet. Snape wanted to gag. Potter would probably eat this up if he were conscious. The entire room jumped as the boy suddenly arched off the bed. Snape recognized the signs immediately. "Crucio." He whispered to Draco. Snape leapt off the chair and took hold of one of Harry's wrist. "Hold him down!" He snapped at Paul on the other side. "Dursley! Get over here!" He ordered. Vernon came up. "Take one of his legs and do not let go." Paul took one of Harry's legs while Petunia held down his other hand.
"What is wrong with him?" Petunia gasped out.
"It's an intense pain curse, called the Cruciatus. It's an Unforgivable Spell and the worst pain imaginable." Snape told her. "Most of the injuries come from flailing around." He and the others held Harry down while he counted. The curse should end soon or Potter would have no brain left. The boy continued to convulse, even after the normal time for the Dark Lord. Blood leaked out of one side of his mouth as he started to scream. Snape threw up a Silencing spell and prayed it would hold. He had convinced the other doctor to go to bed. He didn't want the man awake. Too many awkward questions. Good Merlin. Potter is lucky to be whole. This curse needs to end! Harry continued to flail until something, Snape wasn't sure what, jerked through his body. Harry fell limp on the bed, blood leaking from one side of his mouth and sweat beading on his forehead.. If it was possible for someone to look even more unconscious than before, Potter carried it off well. Everyone relaxed their hold. Vernon moved away to his spot while the rest of them stared down at Harry.
"Is he okay?" Petunia asked as she released the arm she had been holding. Snape actually felt something prick his heart. Sympathy? It couldn't be. Snape did not do sympathy. Sympathy got you killed.
"It is too early to tell. We will not know for certain until he decides to deign us with his presence." Snape told her. He looked at Draco's pale face. "Lie down." He said as he nudged Draco to the nearest bed. "You need some sleep." Draco didn't argue. He thought that the image of Potter writhing on the bed would stay with him forever. Snape acted like Potter had been through something like this before. A discreet glance at his face told him that his guess was true. Snape reached into his robe and pulled out a vial. "Drink this. It will help you sleep." Draco downed the Dreamless Sleep with a grateful nod. He didn't want to dream about it.
Snape prepared the smelling salts as usual and placed the cloth on Harry's chest. "What is that?" Petunia asked as she watched him.
"Something I had to devise for him when he started having visions from the Dark Lord." Snape answered shortly. He started the usual chest massage, but it only seemed to give Potter more discomfort. He straightened the cloth and watched the boy breathe. At least nothing was wrong there. The boy was still breathing. Hopefully, Potter would still be able to think.
"Visions?" Petunia asked. How much had Harry and the headmaster been keeping from her? More importantly, how could she have left Harry to go through it all alone? Old aches rose in her chest, but she forced them back down with a vengeance.
"Potter's scar connects him to the Dark Lord." Snape explained. "The Dark Lord discovered this and sends images to Potter. The boy used to trust what he saw. Now, he does not." Snape stood and stared down at the boy. "I tried to teach him a skill to stop the visions last year, but we do not get along well. He did not learn. He has it now, so it had to be a particularly powerful vision for Potter to even feel the curse, much less react as he did." He explained. Petunia stared down at her nephew as though seeing him for the first time.
"How long has this been going on?" She asked in a quiet and firm voice.
"Almost all of his fifth year." Snape answered. Petunia Dursley, it appeared, was not a Muggle to challenge. In fact, if Voldemort himself were here, Snape would put his money on the Muggle. She was livid. Petunia turned an about face and marched over to her husband.
"You will never say another cross word to that boy." She ordered. Vernon Dursley looked up from his book in surprise. "Ever." Vernon knew that he was just smart enough to carry on a business, fix a doorknob, compliment his wife's cooking and looks as needed. He also knew that his wife could make him perfectly miserable if she so chose. It looked like she was close to carrying out just such an action. He nodded nervously and returned to his book. He figured that all raising techniques were now off. Well, he could treat the boy like a houseguest. That wouldn't be too difficult. A few vague questions at dinner and then leave him to his own devices.
Petunia went back over to the bed and faced Snape. "I want to know everything the headmaster has not told me, everything that has happened and who Harry has talked to. I also want to know about other ma-, er, magical schools to finish Harry's education." Snape's eyebrows rose as he took in her determined air. She was completely serious. Goodness. This was a change of events.
"This may take some time." He warned her. A quick glance around told him that everyone who was awake was ready to hear a few things about Potter. The boy already hated him. It could be no worse now if he broke a bit of the boy's confidence. In fact, he was under no obligation to keep any secrets. He would treat this as a parent/teacher meeting. If the boy had any complaints, Snape would ignore them, as he usually did. "Potter has had quite a few adventures since coming to school. Most of them have endangered his life at least once and the lives of others."
Warmth seeped into him. It covered him, clear up to his neck. He tried to roll over, but found that his limbs wouldn't cooperate with his intentions. He forced his eyes to open. Everything was blurry. A familiar figure was near him, pouring something into the tub. Harry moved his eyes from the man he couldn't quite make out to the water. Why was he in a tub? Wait a moment. There was something in the water, something floating in it. Leaves? Another bundle was added to the water. It was then that Harry realized he hurt. Ht hurt like he was regrowing all of his bones and internal organs at once, over and over. Harry heard someone moan and the man looked at him. Who was that? The man waved a hand in front of Harry's face and pleasant feeling surrounded his mind. He was warm, safe, and feeling remarkably comfortable. His eyes closed again to the sound of another bucket of water being poured over him.
He woke to the sound of a fire. Someone was touching him. "Relax" A warm voice said as the hand flattened to keep Harry in place and not moving. It sounded like he was smiling. "You're not well yet." Harry opened his eyes as the hand started massaging his chest.
"Bleys?" Harry whispered. Ugh. It felt like razorblades down his throat. He grimaced and felt little pinpricks across his face. Bleys moved from Harry's side and disappeared for a few seconds. He came back with a small bowl.
"Open your mouth." Bleys placed a finger on Harry's chin slightly and pushed down. Harry fought against another grimace and did as Bleys asked. His teacher tipped something warm and thick with the consistency of honey down his throat. "Don't swallow. Let it do the work." Bleys brought out another wooden bowl and dipped something out of it. He massaged the stuff into Harry's chest. "Just relax." Harry felt the liquid in his mouth start to slide down his throat, choking him the slightest bit before it moved on. He sighed in relief as the stuff left a trail of numb behind as he felt it reach his stomach. Snape could take some lessons on making potions taste good. That had been sweet, almost like vanilla in flavor. Bleys stood and moved towards Harry's forehead. "Close your eyes." Harry obediently shut his eyes and Bleys' hands started rubbing something into Harry's face.
"What are you doing?" Harry whispered.
"Giving you a massage. Your muscles need some help. You pulled quite a few of them and injured yourself." Bleys told him as Harry felt the fingers travel over his face. "You are probably sore head to toe." Harry realized that Bleys was right. He was sore, well, almost everywhere. It felt like he had went several rounds with…wait a moment. Harry opened his eyes and jerked his head up to look at him.
"Where are my clothes?" Harry asked as Bleys forced Harry's head back on the table. Harry was covered with a towel in the vital area, but that was it.
"How did you think I was going to do this?" Bleys asked. Harry just stared up at him. "It's nothing I haven't seen before." Harry cringed and felt a blush creep up on him. "Is everyone this modest where you are from?" Bleys asked with a teasing smile.
"Mostly." Harry answered as Bleys rolled Harry over to start on his back. Bleys slid a pillow under Harry's head and ordered the boy to stay still. "Everyone I know." The last word turned into a groan as a kink Harry didn't know he had had was smoothed out. "Oh, that feels wonderful." He told Bleys, embarrassment momentarily forgotten as he felt some ease for the pain he was in. What had happened to cause some much-
"So I gathered." Bleys said. "Your people strike me as very strange, child." Bleys moved lower on Harry's back, ending Harry's attempts to think about the cause of his pain.
"Well." Harry stopped to bite his lip as Bleys worked out a tense spot. "I find it strange – ow! – to have a man I consider a teacher giving me a massage." Bleys chuckled and massaged more ointment into Harry's muscles. "I think that muscle is fine." He said with a pink tinge in his cheeks. All this touching was strange. Harry was still getting used to the affection Hermione and Mrs. Weasley gave him while with the Weasley family or at school. He had noticed Mr. Weasley stop himself in a motion once or twice that looked suspiciously like a hug (he had seen Ron and his father give a few quick ones). Even Sirius had enjoyed hugging him. It was definitely not something he was used to from his old life, but even Aunt Petunia was starting to hug. Was all this physical affection, hugging and slaps on the back, normal, or was Harry the strange one?
"You let me judge, alright? I don't want to miss something that could cause a serious injury later." Bleys said as he moved down to Harry's legs. Harry decided he would never tell anyone about this. The press would have a field day. Harry's eyes closed as Bleys smoothed out several muscles.
"What." Harry's face split in a wide yawn. "happened?" Bleys chuckled as Harry fought to stay awake.
"You falling asleep?" Bleys had progressed to Harry's feet. Harry decided that every person on earth deserved a foot massage. It was wonderful.
"Maybe." Harry answered as he felt his body relaxing. He had asked a question of Bleys, but couldn't remember it. It couldn't have been terribly important, could it?
"Go ahead. That painkiller I gave you should have put you to sleep some minutes ago." Bleys wiped his hands with a towel and looked down at Harry. Harry's eyes shut and stayed that way, though Harry was not asleep. Bleys wrapped the blankets around Harry and lifted him from the table. Harry felt the tingle of magic and knew that Bleys was using a charm to enable a smooth transition.
"Cheater." Harry said as he leaned into Bleys, taking in the warmth of the blanket, the strong arms around him and the hint of cooking herbs on the man's clothes. It was very comforting. The strange sense of having a father swept over Harry again. Bleys lowered Harry into his bed and arranged the bedclothes around Harry, as though trying to make sure Harry would not move from the bed, or fall as he had managed to do the first day.
"Sleep well, child. You deserve it." Harry smiled as the man fussed with a blanket and started todrift off to the sound of Bleys singing something in a foreign language under his breath. Harry would worry about that answer he was looking for when he woke up. He felt Alden jump onto the bed and circle three times before settling on his feet. This last comfort was in place and Harry forgot the world around him. He was going to get some serious sleep time.
Author's Note: No cliffies! Look! No cliffies! Woot! Now no one will hunt me down. I can study in peace. I hope. Let me know what you thought.