Authors Notes: Rotten Writer here with chapter 14 of Soul Scars. Been a wild ride so far and I, for one, have been having a real blast with this whole thing. Some parts haven't worked out quite like I'd originally thought and while some of that has been better than my original plan, some might not have worked out so well. But it's all a constant, shifting work in progress and I'm having way too much fun with the whole thing.
So, with this first book finished I'm going to take a couple or three weeks off to really crack down on Year Two. The idea is that I want to get as many chapters pre-written as possible so that when I resume posting I won't be coming up on, 'I haven't finished the newest chapter yet and I gotta post tomorrow, AAAAHHHH!'
When I started this thing, I had twelve chapters written before I even posted the first one. At least three times two chapters got merged together and then I even added those two little mini chapters of six and nine point five. The last like five chapters I've been writing up until posting and I don't like doing it that way. So I'm gonna try harder to get things worked out ahead of time, that way I can tweak and revise a little more before posting too.
Anyway, Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter or any of the other occasional little fandom references that get thrown into my work. (Such as Harry singing that song from the Hobbit in the last chapter) I am a poor security guard and writer and I'm just playing around with these fun characters.
So, without any further ado here by chapter 14 of Soul Scars.
Soul Scars
By,
Rtnwriter
Poppy Pomfrey had seen many things in her years. Many things. Many of those had been horrific and stomach turning. The life of a healer was not meant for one with a weak constitution and she had shown herself to be very strong willed. When Harry Potter was levitated into her hospital wing, she'd felt a twinge of pain that she'd not known for some time. She learned early on to separate her feelings from her patients. The caring, unassuming, selfless child that she'd met in Harry Potter had easily stripped away that careful separation and wormed his way into her emotions.
She honestly liked the boy. His few visits and his behavior had quickly endeared him to her and what she found when she started her diagnostics had torn at her heart.
Harry James Potter, was dead.
She sank slowly into the seat beside the bed, staring at the pale body of the young man occupying it for some time. In thirty years as the healer at Hogwarts, she'd never had a student die on her watch. Not one time.
Just as she was considering how she might have failed the young man a loud cracking noise sounded from the body in front of her and she blinked and gasped loudly as a bright, glowing light emanated from his still form.
#####
Amelia looked up and smiled when someone held a cup of hot tea in front of her. Gratefully she took the cup and took a long sip.
"Thank you, Shack," she muttered and leaned back in the hard backed chair with a sigh as the early morning sunlight streamed through the windows in the Hospital Wing. On her left, her niece occupied one of the beds. Completely unharmed but unconscious, benefits of a dreamless sleep potion. To her right Hermione Granger occupied another bed, and Daphne Greengrass took up the next bed down. All three of them in equal states of deep, potion induced slumber.
"Any word yet?" he asked in his deep voice, taking up a vigil at the corner of Susan's bed. She'd been around the Auror department long enough that Susan knew most of the Aurors in the department by name, and most of them liked her a great deal. She'd become almost an unnofficial mascot of the Auror department years earlier when Amelia was still a Master Auror and before she'd taken over as head of the DMLE.
"Nothing yet. Poppy isn't really sure why the girls collapsed. The only thing she can think of is because of their connection to Harry when he got hurt that it bled over to them. Oh, probably not to the extent of copying his injuries," she added, seeing the concerned look on Kingsley's face. "But he was hurt so badly… the shock of it might have just caused them to shut down."
"But they woke up didn't they?" he asked. She grimaced and nodded. That part had happened while the big man had been away. He'd rushed through the door behind her, the black flames vanishing moments before he did to find her crouched on the ground next to a lifeless Harry Potter. Things had moved quickly after that. They'd rushed all four students to the hospital wing and as soon as they'd arrived he'd sent Shacklebolt through the Floo, back to Auror headquarters to call in an investigative team.
While he was gone, all three girls woke up at the same moment, sat bot upright in their beds, and screamed.
The very thought still chilled her and she shivered, clasping both hands tightly around her tea.
"They wouldn't stop screaming," she muttered. She glanced up at Kingsley. "They woke up, but they woke, screaming, and they wouldn't stop. Eyes wide open, just staring straight ahead and screaming until they ran out of breath. Then they'd haul in a breath and keep screaming. Poppy had to dose them all with Dreamless Sleep just to get them to stop."
Kingsley made a face at that but said nothing for a time as his boss sipped at her tea and he gazed back and forth between Susan's and Hermione's beds.
"What is it, Shack?" Amelia asked after five minutes of the strange behavior from her Senior Auror.
"Hmmm?" Kingsley turned his attention to her, slightly distracted for a moment before he suddenly shook himself. "Oh, sorry. I was just thinking."
"About what?"
"Hermione Granger."
She arched one slim brow and sat up a little straighter in her seat at that as she lowered her cup until she was holding it in her lap with one hand cupped beneath the ceramic and the other still holding onto the handle.
"What about her?" she asked.
He shrugged, looking a touch confused. "I'm not entirely certain, actually. Something about the name is ringing some bells but I can't quite place where exactly…" He trailed off for a few moments before he suddenly snapped his fingers, brightening considerably as he remembered.
"Remember, about six years ago? You and I responded to an accidental magic situation in Crawley?"
Amelia thought about that for a moment. "Right. That was right after you'd moved up from Junior Auror to Auror First Class. What about it?"
"You never came in the house that night, but it was Miss Grangers house that we responded to."
Amelie blinked her mouth dropping open. "Holy shite," she breathed. "That… that's an amazing coincidence. To run into her now after so long…"
Kingsley snorted and crossed his arms over his broad chest. "No more amazing a coincidence then Susan sharing a Soul Bond with Harry Potter and two other girls," he muttered and jumped a moment later when Amelia's tea cup fell from her suddenly numb fingers to smash on the floor.
"H-how… What do you mean by that Shack?" she snarled, numb terror quickly falling away to be replaced by anger.
In her career with the Aurors Amelia had made one thing crystal clear extremely early on. She was not one to fuck with, and had a glare that could intimidate the best and worst of them in equal measure. Despite that, Kingsley Shacklebolt had worked with her for too long to be affected by her ire the same way some others might, and her glare was useless against him as he straightened to his full height and glared right back at her.
"Don't you give me the Bones death glare," he chided her. "How long have we worked together? Did you really think I wouldn't notice the little details? But it's just because I know you so well and I'm so close to the situation, even though I am admittedly still on the periphery, that I noticed it at all. The bond is safe, I haven't, nor would I, tell anyone."
Amelia remained tense, still glaring sternly at the tall Auror, one of the few she counted as a personal friend as well as coworker. Her monocle dug into her skin slightly as her eyes narrowed at him. She really wished that she could have applied the monocle's charms to a pair of glasses but it wasn't a good idea to have both lenses charmed in the way her monocle was. That much information would have been more distraction than useful.
He gave her a cheeky grin a moment later. "You also just told me when you talked about their connection to him," he pointed out and her eyes widened so much that her monocle fell out and dangled from it's chain pinned to the lapel of her robes.
"Shite," she swore. "I must be more tired than I thought to let something like that slip."
"Why do you think I sent Rufus back to the office?"
She nodded in thanks for that and took a deep, steadying breath.
"You understand why we've never said anything?" she asked, quietly, and Kingsley nodded.
"Of course. A Soul Bond is an amazing thing, but it's a weakness too under certain conditions. Like what happened last night. Mister Potter was hurt and all three of those girls dropped like a sack of potatoes. A bond mate can be kidnapped and used against the other side of the bond. I'll go out on a limb and assume that you didn't know it was Harry until after Susan started school?"
Amelia nodded and Kingsley hummed in the back of his throat for a moment.
"Have his guardians been arrested?" His tone was tight as he asked the question, hiding a barely held back anger and she cocked her head slightly, regarding him curiously. "I remember the scars Miss Granger had as a five-year-old," he told her. "The other side of that bond of hers was getting tortured, from what Dumbledore and I could tell, but there was no way to know who it was at the time. I know you'd never hurt Susan, and Daphne Greengrass… Cyril may be a bastard but he'd never damage his daughter like that… might reduce her potential value."
She wanted to argue that point but couldn't really think of anything with which to support her point so remained silent.
"Since none of the girls were being injured, that leaves Mister Potter as the person being attacked, and I can only guess that it was whoever was responsible for caring for him that was doing the damage. There's no way such extensive abuse could have happened otherwise. I can only hope that the moment you found out you did everything you could to get those responsible thrown in the deepest, darkest hole that you could find."
"Trust me," Amelia said, a feral grin twisting her lips. "Those responsible won't be seeing the light of day without bars between it and them for some time."
Kingsley grunted and nodded. "Good."
Before they could continue to speak, the doors to the hospital wing swung silently open and Dumbledore strode through, a shape wrapped in black cloth, floating along behind him. With a wave of his hand he directed the bundle to a bed in the furthest corner of the room and with another wave privacy screens erected themselves around the bed and he turned his attention to Amelia and Kingsley.
"Madam Bones, Auror Shacklebolt," he said, inclining his head slightly to them. "How are the girls?"
"Poppy say's there's nothing wrong with them. At least not physically," Amelia informed him, her eyes hardening to blue chips as she glared at the aged Headmaster. In the hours since she'd arrived at the school Amelia had been running around like a chicken with its head cut off, or so it had felt to her. She'd directed the investigative team that she'd called in to check over every room that they'd passed through on their way to that final chamber and after floating Harry and the girls to the hospital wing she'd immediately turned over command of the situation to Kingsley. With Susan involved, her impartiality couldn't be assured so took steps to ensure that the letter of the law was obeyed.
"Not physically, but…" Dumbledore prompted.
"They're unconscious. She doesn't understand why but as soon as she confirmed that they weren't in any danger she placed them in the beds here and has been over there with Mister Potter since," she said, pointing to another set of privacy screens half way down and on the other side of the ward. She stood and approached him, reaching into her pocket to remove the documents she'd stashed there earlier the night before. She handed them over without a word and Dumbledore gave her a questioning look before he opened the document and read through it.
As he read his mouth twitched behind his beard, slowly growing into a broad, jovial smile. "This is excellent news indeed, Amelia," he said, handing the parchment back to her. "I am sure he will be thrilled to learn of it."
"You don't even know what condition he is in," she pointed out.
"Well, let us assuage our curiosity, then." He stepped past her, leading her along the length of the hospital wing toward the erected privacy screens behind which Harry Potter lay in an unknown condition.
#####
Poppy glanced up when the privacy screens were pulled back and the Headmaster and Amelia Bones both entered, letting the screens fall back into place behind them. She was standing by the bed, continually casting every medical diagnostic charm that she could think of, even a few that probably wouldn't have told her anything useful, except under specific circumstances that he didn't fit, but she was casting them anyway.
"Poppy?" Amelia asked, looking with concern at the wild eyed mediwitch. "How's he doing?" She looked down at Harry, his face flushed and pink, chest slowly rising and falling.
Poppy's mouth worked silently for a several moments but no sound escaped her as she stared at the two of them.
"Madam Pomfrey, please," Dumbledore started as she continued to gape at them. "What ever is the problem?"
"He was dead!" she blurted out, suddenly.
Dumbledore and Amliea both started in shock, turning their eyes to the still, but very much alive and breathing form of the boy before them.
"I hesitate to ask," Dumbledore said in a low tone, "but are you quite certain? He seems very much alive to me."
That cut through her shock just enough to focus her ire on the Headmaster. "Albus Dumbledore," she snapped, "I am a trained medwitch and healer and I'll have you know that I am more than capable of telling when a person is dead."
"Then you mean that his heart stopped but you were able to revive him?" Amelia asked. "Is there any sign that there's concerns of long term damage?"
"No!" she gasped out. Poppy shook her head violently, almost dislodging her witches cap. "You don't understand. I haven't done anything yet!"
They blinked, nearly in unison. Amelia hadn't felt so confused since she woke up one morning after passing her Auror exams to realize that she wasn't in her own bed, she wasn't wearing her own clothes, and she had no idea where the kneazel with the diamond necklace around its neck had come from. The hangover that morning had been spectacular.
"Poppy, please, take a breath and explain this to us. What is wrong with Harry?" she tried.
"He's alive!" Poppy practically shouted and Dumbledore swiftly cast a few privacy charms around the bed, his wand appearing in his hand as if it had flowing into his grip. "He was dead when he was brought in here. The girls were fine, if unconscious, but when I examined Mister Potter all my tests, everything I know, told me that he was dead. His spine was broken in three places, the back of his skull was practically caved in from blunt trauma. No brain activity. No pulse. No respiration. Harry James Potter was dead." She bit off every word in her final sentence, enunciating each carefully and clearly to be sure she wasn't misunderstood."
"How, then," the Headmaster asked, "might you explain the fact that he is now very much alive?"
"I can't!" she shouted. "I've been sitting here, just…" she trailed off, her face twitching and mouth working up and down for a moment. "I just didn't know what to do! I didn't want to just leave him here," she added in a small voice. After a moment she shook herself, physically shaking away her troubling thoughts and focused her attention more fully on the two of them. "Right now he's presenting with a severe concussion, some muscle damage, magical exhaustion to beat the state he was in after the troll incident, and some traces of dark magic that I can't quite identify. Twenty minutes ago he was a corpse. Suddenly, he started to glow and his spine suddenly cracked back into place and healed itself. The damage to his skull was repaired as if it'd never happened and he started breathing.
"I didn't do anything other than diagnostic charms and I can't for the life of me figure out how he suddenly came back after being dead for nearly two hours." She sank into the chair she'd been occupying before and drew in a deep, shaky breath. "I can't begin to explain it," she said in a much calmer tone. "I don't know what is happening here, but he's alive when minutes ago I was trying to decide how I would tell those poor girls bonded to him that their lives were over. You know as well as I, if one of them dies, the others won't last long, and those last days will be filled with complete misery."
#####
Floating.
Weightless and floating in a sea of darkness.
Where?
Who?
Couldn't see, couldn't hear, couldn't smell, or taste, or touch. Couldn't think.
Think. Who? Think what? Think where?
"..ad!?"
Voice? Voices, more than one.
"…at do you… frey?"
"I mean… was dead."
"That's not pos…"
"NO! HE CAN'T BE!"
"Holy crap monkeys… you people are loud…"
#####
Kingsley Shacklebolt sank into the chair his boss had just vacated and heaved out a deep sigh. He'd had longer days, he reflected. More emotionally draining days, even. He didn't think he'd seen much that had stricken him to his core like the noxious cloud that had torn through the room just after Amelia rushed through the wall of black fire. He'd never seen or heard anything like it before in all his time with the Aurors.
A viscous, almost solid cloud of green and black smoke with a face embedded within it's middle. It stank of death and decay and when it rushed past him he could swear his very bones were freezing solid for the moments when he was in contact with that great evil.
"What the hell happened down there?" he muttered and leaned his head back for a moment before he shook himself and sat up in the seat. He was sitting guard duty for three of the most valuable people in the wizarding world, whether they knew it or not. He glanced at the three girls he now knew for sure were bonded to one Harry Potter, a boy seen as a hero and a symbol by much of their society. If anything happened to any one of them… well, he didn't want to think what it would mean for the other three. And from what Kingsley had heard, the Potter boy certainly knew how to get into dangerous trouble. He only hoped that Amelia would take the time to impress on him how important his health was, not to himself, but to the girls with him.
"HARRY!"
Kingsley jumped and nearly fell out of his chair when all three girls suddenly sat bolt upright in their beds as the name was practically torn from their throats, echoing loudly around the hospital wing. Two beds away from Daphne, Neville Longbottom started in his sleep and sat up, bleary eyed and looking around wildly.
"Holy…" Kingsley trailed off as the girls turned and looked at each other, Daphne quickly exiting her bed, despite his stuttered protests, to sit on the side of Susan's bed so that Hermione, in the middle, wouldn't have to look back and forth to keep either girl in sight.
"Harry!" Hermione blurted out. "Where is he? What happened?"
Susan shook her head. "I can't remember," she muttered. "Last thing I remember is feeling…" She trailed off and unbidden, tears well up in her eyes. "Oh, gods," she whispered, her voice cracking and one hand went to her chest. "He… he… he was gone. I couldn't feel him anymore. There was…"
"Agony," Daphne cut in. "Searing agony, over and over…"
"And he was so angry. Merlin, I've never felt him that angry before," Hermione whispered so quietly Kingsley almost didn't hear her.
"Right, he was angry. And he was scared, no, terrified. More terrified than he's ever been."
"And then?" Daphne asked, looking between Hermione and Susan.
They glanced at each other, then back to their blond bond mate.
"I can't remember," they said in perfect unison.
Daphne frowned and struggled to piece together her scattered memories. "He was terrified, angry, and then… cold? I felt freezing cold and something… something disgusting and vile and…" Daphne shuddered and gagged, dry heaving several times before she got herself under control, swallowing thickly. "Oh, holy shite," she muttered. "Oh gods, I can't- I can't think- I need… we need to see him. Where is he?"
Kingsley started when he suddenly realized that all three girls were staring straight at him with the most intense gazes he'd ever seen on anyone before and he leaned back in his chair, hands held up in a gesture of surrender in front of him.
"Okay, first things first, please remember that I'm one of the good guys, ladies," he started. "And I work for you Aunt," he added with a stare at Susan who seemed to explode from the bed, hair flying and eyes flashing dangerously as she glared at him.
"Kingsley, tell me where the fuck Harry is!" she shrieked as Daphne and Hermione rose from the beds and came to stand at her shoulders.
Kingsley had heard from Amelia about the Christmas dinner. He'd heard the description of Potter's eyes glowing with power. He'd even seen Dumbledore do it once back during the first war, hence why he hadn't quite believed his friend and boss when she told him that a first year kid had pulled the same move.
As all three girls eyes began to gleam with an unnatural sheen and their hair started to float about their heads as if they were submerged in water, he believed. He believed, and he knew that his life wouldn't be worth a steaming pile of hippogryph shit if he got in their way.
But he stiffened his spine, squared his shoulders, and stood from his seat so his much larger frame towered over them. Not to intimidate, but just to get his feet under him. "Wait here," he told them and strode over to the privacy screens. He didn't bother trying to get anyone's attention, since he was pretty positive that they'd put up silencing charms, at the least. It was the only way Amelia wouldn't have responded to the girls screaming.
Before he reached the screens the sound of rapid footsteps behind him reached his ears and he cursed mentally as they brushed past him and threw back the screens.
"-Long did you say he was dead again?" Dumbledore was saying as the screens were torn away.
"Where is-"
"-How is he d-"
"-hat happened to Ha-"
"SILENCE!"
The girls instantly stopped babbling, their mouths snapping shut as Dumbledore turned and roared at them in a voice that seemed to fill the entire room. Their hair suddenly dropped around their shoulders and all three of them sagged as if with a sudden feeling of exhaustion.
"Holy mother of Merlin," Daphne groaned. "That's exhausting, how does Harry do that and not just keel over right after?"
"He's a lot stronger than we are," Hermione gasped, panting heavily as she leaned against Susan for a moment before struggling to her full height, peripherally aware that Madam Pomfrey had approached and was waving her wand over the three of them.
"Sit, girls," she ordered and flicked her wand, bringing three chairs closer to the bed where they could see Harry laying beneath a thin blanket. "Sit," she snapped more firmly when they opened their mouths to protest. "Whatever caused your collapse is still an unknown and all three of you are showing signs of exhaustion so sit down before you fall down or I'll stun you all myself and strap you to a bed."
They sat.
"You said that someone was dead," Daphne spoke wearily with a fierce glare in Dumbledore's direction. "Who was dead. Is dead?"
Dumbledore sighed and glanced at Amelia who nodded once, a stern look on her face that brooked absolutely no argument. He waved his wand, letting a large overstuffed armchair spring into existence before he sank into it, looking older and more exhausted than he'd ever looked. To be honest, he felt older than he pretty much ever had. Even after his battle against Grindlewald, he hadn't felt so just completely bone weary.
"Professor Quirrell is dead. From the evidence it appears that Harry killed him," he started, ignoring the sharp hiss of three indrawn breaths. "Aside from that, it seems that when the body died, it exploded, or some sort of magical shockwave threw young Mister Potter across the room where the Stone was hidden. Madam Pomfrey?"
Poppy took a deep breath and leveled a steady gaze at the girls as she listed off the several, fatal injuries Harry had sustained. "For nearly two hours after bringing him back here there was no life in Harry's body," she said, quietly. "He was dead."
"But…" Susan closed her eyes searching desperately for the link Daphne had taught her to recognize more fully, at Harry's suggestion. She could feel him there, still a comforting presence in her mind and her eyes snapped open to take in the slow rise and fall of his chest. "But he's alive," she blurted out, her voice slightly shrill with a tinge of fear.
"Dead!?"
"What do you mean Madam Pomfrey?" Hermione demanded.
"I mean exactly what I said. Harry Potter was dead."
"That's not possible."
"NO! HE CAN'T BE!" Daphne placed a comforting arm around Susan's shoulders, the redhead's eyes never straying from their bond mates still form.
"Holy crap monkeys… you people are loud…"
They all froze as the words filled the air between them. The voice was rough, hoarse, and barely understandable. Harry hadn't even moved before speaking. If the words hadn't slipped past his lips there would have been no indication that he had regained consciousness.
As they watched, breath held in anticipation his brown furrowed as his face tightened with pain, or confusion, and those vibrant green eyes fluttered open briefly before closing tightly again. "Oh son of a motherless…" he groaned in a near whisper before his face went slack again and his breath evened out.
Pomfrey was suddenly by the bed as if she'd apparated the short distance, wand waving as Dumbledore retrieved his own wand from within his robes and joined her, adding his own diagnostic charms to the mediwtch's.
"It's okay," she said, finally, arm falling to her side with her wand held limply in hand. "He's just fallen asleep. A real, natural sleep, not a coma or anything."
She rounded on the girls, a disapproving frown on her face. "You three," she snapped. "Into bed, now."
"But we want to-"
"Mister Potter isn't going anywhere, Miss Granger," Poppy said in a warmer tone but with no less insistence. "You three need to rest if you want to be in any condition to be here for him."
Quickly she hearded the girls from their spot by the bed and got them into their own beds as she began her examinations and started serving out a measure of dreamless sleep, not that it'd managed to keep them asleep before.
"Dumbledore…" Amelia growled, trailing off dangerously. "I think I've been patient enough, and now that I know the children are all right, you and I are going to be having a long conversation with Auror Shacklebolt." She gave him a feral looking grin. "Would you like to lead the way to your office, or should we continue this at one of the Ministry interview rooms?"
#####
When next Harry opened his eyes, the girls were sitting by his bed, watching him carefully as they'd been doing for some time. It was Susan who noticed first. She was staring intently at his face when his eyelids suddenly fluttered and she sat up straighter in her seat, sure that she hadn't just imagined what she'd seen.
"Harry?" she asked, hesitantly leaning forward in her chair as Hermione and Daphne started at the sudden sound of her voice and turned their attention to their raven haired bond mate.
Nothing for several moments.
Then, his eyes flickered again, and fluttered open, giving them the briefest flash of green before scrunching shut again.
"Oh holy son of a motherless crack monkey," he groaned in a hoarse whisper. "Please… tell me someone got the number of the bus?"
Hermione started giggling, almost hysterically, relief flooding across the bond from her as Susan and Daphne blinked and exchanged a confused before before turning their attention to the bushy haired girl between them.
"It's a muggle expressions," she said, still giggling and with tears brimming in her eyes. "I'll explain it later." She stood and approached the bed, picking up a tumbler of ice cold water on her way and she sat down on the edge of the bed next to Harry as his eyes opened again and slowly focused on her. "Here, drink some water," she told him, softly, and held the glass so he could drink. After a few small sips she pulled the cup away and set it aside, picking up his glasses and sliding them carefully onto his face.
She couldn't stop herself from letting her hand caress his cheek, just slightly, as she pulled away, reassuring her with that contact that he was still there, he was still with them.
Harry smiled when her face swam into focus and she couldn't help but smile back. "Morning, Beautiful," he murmured and she flushed brightly, even as her smile grew broader.
"It's late afternoon, Harry," she told him and he twitched in the bed. It took her a moment to realize he'd tried to shrug but hadn't quite been successful.
"What happened?" he asked.
"That, is precisely what we want to know, Potter," Daphne growled. She was trilled, elated that he was okay and would recover, from what Madam Pomfrey had told them. But that didn't mean she wasn't still upset with him for what he'd pulled. "What the hell was that?" she demanded. "Taking that potion and breaking the bottle? Why break the bottle? Why rush off like that without us?"
Hermione and Susan both understood Daphne's anger. More than most, they understood. Especially since they'd been able to feel it.
"She's not really angry," Hermione assure Harry who was shrinking in on himself slightly as Daphne had ranted at him. "She's scared. You scared us, Harry, and while I disagree with her delivery," she added as she gave Daphne a severe look that did little to calm the blond's anger, "I do have to agree with her sentiment. We'd really like to know what was going through your head there, and what happened in that room."
"Can that wait a few minutes?" he asked as some of the tension left his body.
"Why?" Susan asked, curiously.
"I'm willing to bet that Madam Pomfrey is going to show up, any moment, and I'd imagine that there will be some others right behind us." His eyes had slipped closed while he spoke, trying to relax as his mind began to whirl through everything he could remember when they suddenly snapped open again. "Neville!" he practically yelled. "Neville was hurt, where is he? How's he doing?"
"I'm right here, Harry."
Harry turned his head, away from the girls where they sat on his left to find that Neville was sitting in a chair on his right, his legs stretched out in front of him on another chair with a book open on his thighs. He gave Harry a cheerful grin.
"You didn't think I'd leave you in here by yourself, did you? Even with your girls to keep you company."
Harry returned the smile but didn't try to sit up, he knew he was too weak still for that. "How are you?" he asked again. "What'd Madam Pomfrey say?"
Neville blanched a bit with a sigh but pushed up the sleeve of the dark shirt he was wearing to show a thick, ropy scar that ran across the outside of his upper arm. "Madam Pomfrey said that if she'd gotten to it quicker she could have healed it with almost no scar at all. Those keys were steeped in magic, charmed to fly and to react as semi-living creatures, sort of." He trailed off, frowning as he thought about how to describe it before he shrugged, giving it up as a lost cause. "Anyway, the wound was tainted with that magic and it was left so long that she couldn't really get rid of it. She did give me an ointment to use that'll help reduce it, considerably, she says, but it'll take time and will probably never go away entirely."
Harry stared intently at the mark on his friends skin and a rush of guilt flooded through him. "I'm sorry, Nev," he tried and Neville shook his head, waving him off.
"It's my own damn fault, Harry. I should have been paying closer attention, then I might not have ended up with such an ugly mark," he said, frowning down at the scar on his arm as he pulled his sleeve down to cover it.
The girls winced, thinking of the many scars that marked their bond mate and felt that they couldn't be angry with the Longbottom Scion, since he didn't know of the scars. His comment was insensitive at best, but he had the benefit of a lack of knowledge and the fact that they knew he didn't have a hurtful bone in his body. He would never have said anything hurtful intentionally.
Harry was just watching Neville calmly for several moments before he smirked. "Dolor temporarius, gloria aeterna, cicatrices virgines placent," he said, which caused all four of them to blink in confusion.
Hermione's face screwed up in thought and she bit her lower lip, worrying it with her teeth as she considered the phrase.
"'Dolor temporarius'. Pain is temporary," she muttered.
Harry smiled.
"'gloria aeterna'. Glory is forever," she continued and Harry's smile grew even wider.
"'cicatrices virgines placent'…" she trailed off, eyes brightening before she frowned and turned a glare onto Harry who burst out laughing when he realized she'd worked it out. "Really, Harry?" she admonished him. She'd have swatted his shoulder but she didn't want to hurt him, and it was nice to hear him laugh.
"For the rest of us, could you please explain what he said?" Daphne asked. "I was never very good with Latin."
Hermione sighed as Harry laughed even harder and sat up primly on the edge of the bed. "Pain is temporary, glory is forever,…" she trailed off again and glared at Harry before finishing, "chicks dig scars."
The three purebloods in the room blinked again, looking even more confused and Hermione sighed again as she explained. "'Chick' is a muggle slang term for young women. Basically, he's saying that the pain Neville felt is only temporary, the glory for his actions will last forever, and he might use his scar to entice or attract girls."
"Pain is temporary, glory is forever, chicks dig scars," Neville muttered, trying out the words. He was blushing brightly but seemed to summon up some of that Gryffindor courage and glanced over at Harry. "How do you say it in Latin again?" he asked with a broad grin on his face.
"Neville!" Hermione blurted out in a scandalized tone as Harry kept laughing and even Susan had started chuckling quietly as Daphne just smirked at her irate bond mate while Hermione started lecturing Harry about not corrupting his friends.
Their laughter and quiet conversation died an ignoble death moments later when a wizened voice intruded on their conversation.
"It does an old heart good to see you in such high spirits after your ordeal, my boy," Dumbledore said as he made his way over to the group, looking down with a small smile on his lips and a twinkle in his bright blue eyes at Harry.
"Do not call me boy, Sir," Harry ground out, flipping from amused to irate in an instant. "I really don't like it.
Dumbledore paused in the act of magicking himself up a chair and glanced at Harry for a moment as Hermione scrambled to move back to the chair she'd vacated and Neville dropped his feet to the floor, closing his book as he set it aside. Dumbledore created his chair and sank into it, still eyeing Harry.
"Of course, Mister Potter," he said, finally. "I apologize for any insult."
"It's not so much that it's an insult," he fired back. "But when you don't even know your own name because someone left you with bigoted, abusive muggles, until you're five years old, it's difficult to not mind when people use the same form of address as the abusers. They called me 'boy' or 'freak' and it wasn't until I was in school that I learned my own damn name."
It had been months. But Harry hadn't forgotten what he'd learned at Gringotts over the Christmas break. Dumbledore had left him with the Dursleys. All his scars, all his years of suffering… he could lay responsibility, at least partially, at the old man's feet. And he was feeling less than charitable. He'd been thinking long and hard over what he wanted to do with that knowledge, and still hadn't really decided. But for now, it was enough that he'd let the old man know that he knew, and he'd let him stew in it for a while.
"Is anyone else joining us?" he asked, biting off the words angrily as the girls looked back and forth at each other, confused over Harry's anger with the Headmaster.
"Just me, Harry," Amelia Bones said as she walked over and greeted her niece and the rest of them. In minutes they were all seated and Harry was sitting up a bit in the bed with the girls help, leaning back against the railing at the head of it.
"So, what happened?" he asked when no one said anything for a few minutes.
"We were hoping you might explain that to us," Dumbledore started. "We have heard the story from your friends, a truly remarkable tale, I must say. But after you passed through the flames into the chamber with the stone, there is little, if any, information."
Harry glared at the old wizard for a few moments before sighing and beginning his tale, "I drank the potion to get through the fire," he started.
"Why did you shatter the bottle?" Hermione interrupted and then flushed and ducked her head when all eyes turned to her. "I'm sorry," she whispered. "It's just… I couldn't figure it out. It seemed like such an odd thing to do. There was no reason to destroy the bottle so… I just wondered why…"
"Because I didn't want any of you to follow me," Harry told her, quietly. There was pain and fear in his voice as the three of them stared at him, though his eyes held Hermione's firmly. "I was thinking about it when I saw how little there was in the bottle. Obviously, Quirrel was ahead of us, right?"
Hermione nodded, her brow furrowed in thought.
"That bottle was so tiny, there was only enough in there for one mouthful. If he was ahead of us wouldn't he have had to drink the potion too?"
"And if he had, why was there still potion in the bottle?" she breathed out stunned realization. "The bottle refilled itself after he passed through."
"That was my thought. I knew that if I left it, and if you noticed that it had refilled, you would have followed me. I promised to protect you, all three of you. If you'd followed… I couldn't promise to keep you safe. That was the only way I could think of."
All three girls glared at him, even as they felt a blooming warmth in their chests for the care and concern that he felt for them. Hesitantly, he turned back to Dumbledore and Amelia and continued his story.
As he spoke there was a mixture of reactions from his audience. Pale faces, exclamations of shock, or dismay, even a cheer when he told about how the stone appeared in his pocket. He left out the vision he saw in the mirror, the older versions of the girls and himself with a quick glance at them from the corner of his eyes as they sat in the chairs by his bed.
"When he touched me he started burning," he was saying some time later. "I don't know why but he couldn't touch my skin for some reason and, even though it hurt me, I decided I could use that."
He stopped talking at that point, fidgeting nervously under their many gazes.
"Harry?" Amelia asked, attempting to verbally nudge him to continue.
"He's nervous," Susan spoke up. "Nervous and afraid. What happened Harry?"
Harry looked down at his lap and whispered something that caused Hermione to pale but Susan and Daphne, nor anyone else had been able to hear what he said. A moment later Hermione launched herself from her chair, sprawling across Harry as she drew him into a tight hug, whispering in his ear. He pushed her, gently but firmly, away his face drawn into a pained mask.
"I killed him," he said, finally, in a louder voice. "I grabbed his face, tackled him to the ground and I sat on his chest and hit him over and over until his head caved in." He was staring at his hands as he spoke, fingers flexing and curling into fists slowly and repeatedly as he spoke. "And even when he was dead it wasn't finished," he added as he explained the conversation he'd held with Voldemort, still attached to the back of the corpses head, ending with how he'd driven his thumbs through the glowing red eyes.
"I'm not sure what happened after that. There was an explosion and I felt a sharp pain and then cold numbness, and I was waking up here."
"That is quite a tale, and an awful experience for you to have had to deal with," Dumbleodre spoke quietly as the rest simply stared at him. "However I think I can put your mind to rest over one detail. You did not kill Professor Quirrell."
Harry jerked at hearing his crime so plainly stated by someone else, even if the man was denying his actions. "I'm not the smartest person in the room, Headmaster," he drawled. "But even I know what it means to have your face caved in like a melon. I killed him. I know it."
"And what you do not know, is that the professor was already dead."
All of the kids stared at him at that. Neville and Harry with their mouths hanging open in shock while the girls all looked concerned and curious about the odd statement.
"Voldemort could only possess a wizard, as he did, with the wizards permission. Quirrell had to voluntarily offer up his body for Voldemort, and doing so killed him. There is no way that night was going to end with Quirrinus Quirrell still alive. The moment Voldemort made to leave, the Professors body would have given out. Add to the fact that he had been drinking unicorn blood in the forbidden forest and he was already living a pained, cursed life, such as it was.
"Your actions were little more than to release him from the pain and torment he was experiencing."
"He's right, Harry," Amelia cut in, speaking for the first time since Harry started. "If Voldemort possessed him while he was in Albania, then technically, Quirrell was dead before he even arrived back at school before the start of the year."
"What happened to the Stone?" he asked after a brief pause, wishing to move beyond that portion of his story.
"Alas, the stone has been destroyed."
"But… Nicholas Flamel and his wife… won't they…"
"Oh, you know about Nicholas as well?" Dumbledore asked, sounding amused "You and your friends have certainly shown yourselves to be capable investigators. I had not realized how much you had discovered of the situation."
"But without the stone the Flamel's will die," Harry insisted, ignoring Dumbledore.
"They have plenty of elixir left over to set their affairs in order, Mister Potter," Dumbledore assured him. "My old friend decided that he and his wife have been on this earth for long enough, many times longer than anyone else ever has, and so, with how dangerous the stone could be in the wrong hands, he finally made the decision to destroy it. To the well prepared mind, death is simply the next great adventure."
"That's a load of horse shit," Harry snarled, taking the entire group by surprise. "They're going to die. That's not an adventure, it's just the end."
"If that is what you choose to believe. They believe otherwise, and it is, ultimately, their decision." Dumbledore's tone was as friendly as ever, but there was a hint of steel in his voice that told Harry he was pushing his luck. He slumped down in his bed a moment later, ending the staring contest he'd been having with the old Headmaster.
"Anyway," he continued. "That was the whole story, so what happened after I passed out?"
When everyone suddenly fell suspiciously, and completely, silent, Harry's hackles rose and a tingle of apprehension shivered across his skin.
"You know," he said in a dry tone, "it's really disconcerting when you all go dead silent like that." At the word 'dead' nearly every person in the room winced. Only Dumbledore, Neville, and Harry himself kept their composure, though Harry had the idea that Neville was as confused as he was. He glanced over at his friend who noticed his look and shrugged helplessly.
"I've got nothing," Neville admitted. "They woke me up, yelling a few days ago and ran behind some screens and there were silencing charms up so I have no idea what they said."
"Okay, seriously, lay it out for me people," Harry demanded after taking a moment to shift and move on the bed starting with his neck and working his way down until he was bending and flexing his knees and ankles and even wiggling his toes. "Other than feeling as weak as a newborn I'm not doing too bad, so what's with the long faces?"
"Harry," Hermione started, pausing when he turned to look at her. She was tense and drawn, her muscles as taught as a guitar string, nerves in danger of snapping. "Harry you didn't pass out. It's been three days since we went after the stone. You went through the flames and… and we…" She trailed off and Daphne reached out and put a hand on her shoulder.
"We didn't leave, Harry," she said. "We were still there, behind the flames when Madam Bones came through behind us with Auror Shacklebolt and Auror Scrimegour. We were trying to explain what was going on when there was this horrific sound."
"It was a screeching, shrieking noise I think I'm going to remember in my nightmares for years," Susan muttered tremulously for a moment before shaking herself and staring intently at the young wizard. "We felt it," she whispered. "We felt your fear and your anger and… Merlins beard Harry, how did you deal with that much pain. God I've never felt that kind of pain before and with the bond we don't feel it as bad as you would."
Harry considered that for a moment the memory of the searing agony that'd threatened to tear him apart flitted through his mind and the girls flinched, Hermione letting a low moan slip past her lips before she calmed them shut and he hurriedly shoved the memory aside. Affecting a calm, indifferent tone he shrugged, "I didn't really have a lot of choice in the matter," he admitted.
"Anyway," Daphne spoke up again after everyone had taken a moment to stare incredulously at him. "Whatever happened to you when Quirrell exploded… well it cut the link."
Harry blinked, a dawning horror growing in his eyes.
"It cut the bond Harry. We couldn't feel you. We couldn't her you, or sense you in any way and we… we just shut down."
"Collapsed, like puppets with their strings cut, Harry," Amelia murmured in a gentle tone and Harry's stricken gaze swung toward her as she took up the explanation. "Kingsley and I got you all out of there as fast as we could. I threw a stasis charm on all of you since I didn't want to waste time checking you if you were badly hurt and risk delaying getting you to Poppy. I'm not very good with medical spells.
"When we got you all here Poppy checked the girls and said they were just unconscious but were physically fine. Then she went with you behind some screens and I spent the next hour organizing and setting Kingsley up with command of the investigation and then another few hours just sitting here. When Dumbledore finally got back we went to check on you and Poppy finally told us what had happened to you."
"Oh would someone just spit it out already!" he blurted out. "Seriously, the dramatics are impressive but the suspense is killing me."
Amelia winced. "Poor choice of words, Harry," she told him as the girls quietly began to cry, clutching at each other. "Apparently you were dead, according to Poppy. Dead for roughly two solid hours."
Harry blinked, his face going slack as his mouth dropped open for a moment before his eyes flicked to the girls sitting by his bed.
He blinked again and his mouth started to work up and down several times as he attempted to speak. His eyes moved to Neville, who looked about as shocked as he felt. He looked down at his body, pleased to note that he was wearing one of his long sleeved shirts and then stared at his hands, held palm up before him, curling his fingers into fists several times.
"You have got to be kidding me. I know people can be revived from death if their heart stops but only within minutes, after too much time the brain starves of oxygen, there's no way I could have been… could have…" he trailed off as a rising panic started to grow in his chest. "What the fuck are you talking about?" he suddenly snapped. If he'd been well, if he'd been healthy and rested his eyes would have been glowing dangerously. But as weak and drained as he still was all he could muster was a heated glare that swept across the adults in the room.
Daphne and Susan moved to sit on the edge of his bed again on his left, Susan taking his left hand in hers as Daphne placed her right on the back of his neck. Hermione moved around the bed, sitting on his right side as she tok his other hand and their combined touch slowly calmed him down, bringing him to some semblance of equilibrium.
"We don't have any kind of explanation, Harry," Amelia said, sure that she was the only one who would be able to speak to him at that time. He was pissed at Dumbledore, why she couldn't say, but it was obvious enough that he was. "When Poppy examined you, your spine was broken in multiple places and the back of your head was caved in from when you hit the wall. There's no way that, even a wizard, could survive those kinds of injuries.
"When we came behind the screens, she was casting every diagnostic charm she could think of at you and you were alive and breathing. Said you'd started glowing about twenty minutes before we came in and your spine snapped back together as your head healed. You were still injured, and suffering from your worst magical exhaustion yet, but you were alive."
"At the moment, we have no idea how or why it happened. Poppy is doing everything she can to look into it, but I fear we may never truly understand. Suffice it to say you are an extremely lucky young man, and perhaps, this might see you taking a bit more care in the future with your health."
Harry glared at Dumbledore. "What are you talking about now?" he snapped.
"When you… were injured," the old wizard said, "your ladies were cut down by their separation from your bond. Worse than before when you cut off the link by choice. In this case you were truly dead, if just for a time. You forget, Harry, that you are bonded to these girls, and they to you. I understand your willingness to throw yourself into the defense of others, and I can appreciate that mode of thought. But you have to keep in mind that your health, your life, is tied to theirs. Should you die, truly die without reawakening… well.. There has never been a bonded couple that has survived long once one of them passes on."
Harry had paled significantly as Dumbledore spoke and his hands tightened convulsively around Hermione's and Susan's. "So if I die…"
"They will likely not be long for this world after that." Dumbledores voice was a quiet rumble, heavy with emotion Harry found himself unable to identify. "And what days they would have, would likely be spent in abject misery. Please… try to keep that in mind, in the future."
He stood and vanished his chair.
"Thank you, Harry, for explaining what happened. I'm sure there will be more for us to discuss in the future, but I believe that is plenty for now. Poppy will likely be by soon to kick us out and after your ordeal I am sure you still need to rest. We will talk again, if you wish, before you leave for the Summer."
"Why me?" Harry blurted out as Dumbledore made to turn away.
"I am not certain I understand the question, Mister Potter."
"When Voldemort talked to me… he said that my mother didn't have to die. He only killed her because she wouldn't stop trying to protect me. So, when he came to the house that night, he wasn't after my parents. He was after me. Me, a fifteen month old baby. He came there specifically to kill me. Why?"
Dumbledore's eyes were closed, a pained grimace on his face before he let out a long sigh and opened his eyes again, fixing Harry with a piercing stare. "That, is one question I cannot quite answer. Not yet."
Dumbledore held up a hand to hold them off as nearly every mouth opened to protest, many with angry glares directed in his direction. "Not yet. But I will, I do promise you that. You have been through an ordeal, Harry. Heal, rest, recover. We will discuss this another time. But I refuse to burden you further today."
Before anyone could question him further he swept from the room, leaving them to stew in their frustration. After several long minutes Amelia cleared her throat and reached into her robes to retrieve a folded piece of parchment that she then held gently in her hands.
"Don't worry about Dumbledore right now, Harry," she told him. "I've spent the last several days giving him more than a piece of my mind and he's in more trouble than I think he even realizes at the moment. His actions this year have been highly suspect and I promise you, I am looking into it. In the meantime I do have some good news for you."
"Good news would be nice," he sighed and leaned back further against the bed and the pillows piled behind him. His body was beginning to ache and fatigue was growing more and more with every passing minute.
"Your Uncle has been arrested."
His head snapped up, eyes wide as his body tensed with nervous excitement. Relief and elation filled him but he strained to temper it, to hold it back, waiting, as always, for the other shoe to drop.
"And what, exactly, does that mean?"
"They're still investigating everything. Your aunt's and cousin's involvement is still somewhat unclear at the moment. But with his arrest, you are not being made to return to your aunt's home. What I have here," she added, holding up the parchment. "Is an application for me to become your temporary guardian while the case is still open. Vernon's trial is in two weeks, depending on the outcome of the case, which seems pretty cut and dry, you'll be placed with a new family. Well, you'll receive offers from families to take you in. Some may want to adopt you, some may just be willing to take over as your legal guardian and take care of you until you're of age. It will also be entirely your choice which offer you accept at that point. But for now… if you want, all you have to do is sign this letter and I'll go file it and when you get to Kings Cross at the end of the year you'll come home with Susan and me."
Before Amelia had even finished her last sentence Susan had leapt from the bed, run around and practically flew into her aunt's arms squealing happily and squeezing the life out of the older witch. Neville, Hermione, and Daphne were all expressing their joy over the announcement loudly enough that at any other time Madam Pomfrey would have come down on them like the wrath of the gods, but Amelia had told her ahead of time what she was going to announce. The Mediwitch only glanced up from her parchment work where she sat in her office when she heard the raised voices echoing off the walls of her domain, a small smile on her lips.
One they'd all managed to calm themselves down, Harry hadn't moved. He was just staring at Amelia, hope naked on his face. It was at once amazing and soul crushing to see. He wanted it, she could see it in his eyes, in his expression, but some small part of him still couldn't quite believe it. Gently pushing her niece away from her, she rose and moved over to sit on the bed as Hermione moved away to make room for her, taking Harry's hand in her own.
"I mean it, Harry. No tricks. No one is going to yank the carpet out from under you. No one is going to knock you down. This is real. But only if you want it. You sign this parchment, and I'll file it first thing in the morning."
Slowly, almost hesitantly, she reached for him, ignoring how wet his eyes appeared, and how his lower lip trembled, just slightly. When her hands reached his shoulders he stiffened completely, but offered absolutely no resistance when she pulled him forward and into her arms. Amelia held him as he pressed his face into her shoulder and a tremor ran through his body. He sucked in a sharp breath and for several minutes he simply breathed, shoulders shaking silently as his arms came up and wrapped tightly around her back, fingers clutching at her robes.
When he pulled back he wiped fiercely at his face for a moment but the girls and Neville were all looking away from them and a rush of gratitude flowed across the bond to the girls who all smiled calmly as his feelings filled them. Amelia quirked a brow at him and held up the parchment. An enormous grin broke out on his face and he nodded, unable to find the words and unwilling to trust his voice. A quill and ink were quickly supplied, and with a trembling hand he scrawled his name on the lines where Amelia told him to sign. As soon as he finished the parchment glowed briefly and she folded it back up and tucked it into her robes.
"That's it," she said. "You're staying with us until this is all settled. We'll handle what comes next after that. And you two," she added, turning to glance back and forth between Hermione and Daphne. Hermione had made her way back to the chairs where she and Daphne sat together, sad smiles on both their faces. "You both have Floo access and a standing invitation. You don't have to call ahead. You don't have to let us know you're coming. Any time either of you want to come over, just do it. I've already adjusted the wards at the Boneyard. You have full access to come and go as you please any time you want."
"Thank you, Madam Bones," they said in unison, broad grins spreading across their faces until Amelia frowned at them.
"That won't do," she muttered. "I insist that you call me Amelia, or even Aunt Amy, if you'd prefer."
They smiled brightly and nodded. "Thank you, Amelia."
#####
Albus Dumbledore sat behind his desk, his brow furrowed in thought. In one hand he held one of his prized sherbet lemons, forgotten in the action of passing it into his mouth. The year had not gone at all according to plan. Such careful plans, designed over years of painstaking thought and work.
The traps had been set, the bait planted. He'd been right. Voldemort still existed, maybe not exactly alive, but he wasn't dead, either. He was still out there. The Stone had been the perfect chance to capture the wandering spirit and perhaps bypass that damn prophecy. But he hadn't accounted for one Harry James Potter and his bonded ladies.
The display the girls had put on when they'd parted behind the privacy screens, demanding to see Harry. The power rolling off of them. It was obvious the four of them would become a true power in the world as they aged. He'd heard of the displays of power from Harry himself. The boy worried him in many ways, and in others, there were signs that his worries could be unfounded. He'd been upset, despondent over the thought that he'd killed Professor Quirrell. But that hadn't stopped him from attacking the man in a full fury with ever intention of ending him.
Was Harry on the path to darkness? He'd willingly attempted to take the mans life. He'd attacked with a single minded violence that disturbed the aged wizard. But his worry, his remorse afterwards…
Dumbledore sighed and finished his previously forgotten action, popping the candy into his mouth and he leaned back in his chair, folding his hands on his chest as he sucked on his treat and thought long and hard over the conundrum that was Harry James Potter.
"One must die at the hand of the other," he muttered. "For neither can live while the other survives."
#####
Harry stared out the window, practically vibrating in his seat. The last week at school had been interesting, to say the least. He hadn't spoken to Dumbledore again, only seeing the man at the leaving feast hours after Madam Pomfrey had finally seen fit to release him from the hospital wing.
Every day that he'd been there the girls and Neville had come by to see him. They'd spent hours playing games, talking, reading, and otherwise just spending time together. Neville had even taken to wearing short sleeved shirts that allowed the lower part of the scar on his arm to be visible when he walked around the school. The Longbottom Scion walked with a new confidence and strength, his head held high.
"Why did you tell Neville that?" Susan had asked the day after their conversation with the Headmaster.
"Tell him what?"
"About his scar? That phrase you said." Susan had appeared conflicted. "I only ask because… well… you hide your scars, Harry," she said, laying a gentle hand on his arm. He could feel that she was worried. Probably concerned she would upset him. "I'm just confused and I was wondering. It's not something that you seem to feel yourself."
"There's a difference between my scars and his," he'd said, a sad look on his face but he took her hand in his, reassuring her that he wasn't upset with her for asking even as Daphne and Hermione listened intently to their discussion. "He earned his scar because he fought. He did the right thing, he stood up when it counted, and he found the courage he needed to act. My scars…" he glanced down at his hidden left forearm. "My scars are because I was weak. My scars are because I couldn't fight back, I couldn't defend myself, I couldn't stop what was happening. His is a mark of pride for what he accomplished. Mine are badges of my failure."
They'd seemed to disagree with his assessment, but hadn't been willing to press him on the matter, something for which he'd been extremely grateful.
At the leaving feast there had been a last minute change of decorations when Dumbledore decided to dole out house points to him, his girls, and to Neville, something that Harry had felt to be in extremely poor taste. The rumors were flying around the castle, and while none of them had come close to the truth, many did get the basics that Harry and his friends had gone and done something outrageous and stupid and they were being rewarded for it.
By far, Harry's favorite part of the week had been two days after he woke when he'd heard a clearing of a throat near his bed and looked up to find Professor McGonagall standing there, regarding him carefully.
"I wish, once again, to apologize," she'd said. "I did not dismiss you when you tried to tell me what was happening. But at the same time, I did not give it the full consideration that it required and I cannot begin to express my dismay over, once again, not living up to my responsibilities."
"It's okay, Professor," he'd told her. "You're right, you didn't dismiss us. Not entirely. You did say you would look into it, and I'm sure you meant that. I'd love to continue our discussions once school starts up again next year."
Her lips quirked into a small smile and she'd given him a small nod before wishing him a speedy recovery and made her way out of the Hospital Wing.
"Are you looking forward to the Summer, Harry?"
He turned away from the window, dropping out of his thoughts and back into the present to look into a warm pair of cinnamon eyes. He couldn't have wiped the broad smile from his face if he'd wanted to.
"I can't even begin to describe how much, Hermione," he told her.
She nodded and smiled as well, one hand going to her chest. "I can feel just how much, Harry," she reminded him. Harry, the girls, and Neville spent the rest of the trip in cheerful conversation with Tracey Davis, Hannah Abbot, and even Blaise Zabini popping in and out of their compartment during the course of the trip. Laughter filled the compartment around them and when they arrived at Kings Cross it was a tired but happy group of students that exited the train and collected their trunks.
Harry insisted on piling his and Susan's onto the same trolley and pushed it across the platform toward the barrier where they found Susan's aunt, Hermione's parents, and Daphne's mother waiting for them. Harry had been pleased to see that Cyril Greengrass had not arrived to pick up his daughter.
They said good bye and Harry willingly pulled Hermione and Daphne into a hug which seemed to thrill the girls. Eventually however they had to leave, each promising to come visit soon. Daphne and her mother vanished with a quiet crack of apparition while Hermione and her parents made their way through the barrier into the station proper. Neville and his Gran made their way to the Floo that had been repaired since Harry destroyed it over the Christmas Holidays and, with everyone else gone, Amelia Bones turned and favored Harry and Susan with a broad smile.
"Well?" she said. "Let's go home."
So Ends Part One of
Soul Scars
Next:
Part Two.
Soul Scars:
Darkness Within
