CHAPTER SEVEN

BACK TO HOGWARTS

Harry opened his eyes; his vision was blurred, but he could make out Ginny's freckled face and red hair looking down on him.

"We have to get him to St Mungo's!" Ginny cried out to the people around her.

"Ginny, I think we should take him to Hogwarts," Ron's voice came from behind Harry, "There's been an outbreak of dragonpox recently. I heard from old Ellis Thessle that St Mungo's is heaving; Neville and Slughorn could probably see Harry quicker."

"I'll inform the Ministry," Arthur said, though Harry could only see the blurred face of Ginny.

"I'll look after the kids," Molly added, "Hagrid, make sure they stay inside."

"Aye," Hagrid grunted.

"Ron, help me lift him," Ginny called.

"Stand back, Ginny," Hermione's voice came.

Harry felt a rush of air brush through his hair and against his face. Then he felt himself rising in the air, like a marionette. His head spun, his vision was starting to fade again.

"We'll come with," he heard Ron say, before he blacked out again.

"...Merlin's Beard, what happened to Potter?!"

"...need Neville. And Slughorn…"

"...has he been attacked?"

"...cursed, I think."

The next time Harry was aware of his surroundings, and clear enough from the grogginess that he could hear and see clearly, it was late at night. The hospital wing was quiet and Harry was alone.

Or so he thought; that's when he realised his hand was clasped in another. He glanced over to see Ginny sleeping, her head leaning against his thigh.

"Ginny," Harry whispered.

She stirred and opened her eyes; as soon as she registered Harry being awake, she beamed.

"Harry!"

She sat up and embraced him; Harry winced as a pain shot through his ribs.

"Sorry," Ginny muttered, relinquishing her hold.

"It's alright, I'm just a bit sore…"

"Harry, what happened?" Ginny said.

Harry remembered the purple gift; that uneasy chill that wouldn't go away.

"Cursed gift," Harry muttered, "I knew something wasn't right. I had an uneasy feeling all day. Funnily enough, it was always when I was near the presents. Then James had that present and… I dunno, I just knew. My training kicked in; I didn't really know what the present was, or what it could do, I just knew it was dangerous. Cursed."

"Is that the training they use hypnosis for?" Ginny asked.

"Yeah, it roots it in the subconscious. Remember that Muggle comic Spider-Man I told you about? It's like that. His 'spidey sense'."

Ginny sighed and tightened her grip on his hand.

"I was so scared, Harry," she revealed.

"What happened? I blacked out a lot."

"Ron, Hermione and I took you through the fireplace to McGonagall's office. She took us down to the hospital wing and Ron went to wake up Neville and Slughorn. They came in with a bunch of potions and plants. Administered all sorts of antidotes, since we didn't know what you'd been cursed with."

Ginny said all of this very fast; she took a breath before she continued.

"And then, you started stabilising. We're not sure what did it, exactly."

"So, they lifted my curse already?" Harry's heart skipped a beat.

"Ah - no," Ginny shook her head, "They stopped whatever was making you lose consciousness. I think maybe it was just the curse… sinking in."

Ginny finished her sentence with a shiver.

"Right… do they know what the curse is, exactly?" Harry asked.

"No, not yet. Slughorn and Neville were adamant to work through the night, they may still be."

"And no-one else was hurt?" Harry asked.

"No, everyone else is fine," Ginny replied, "Most of them stayed until midnight, but you know what Madam Pomfrey is like."

Harry glanced at his watch; it was two thirty in the morning.

"How do you feel now?" Ginny asked, softly.

"Not great. Pounding headache, feel sick. But a lot better," Harry reassured her.

Ginny sighed again and rested her head on Harry's chest.

"I'll tell you something though," Harry added, "Someone didn't pull their weight with security. When I get out of here, there's going to be hell to pay."

"Don't worry about that now," Ginny muttered, sleepily, "Just get some rest. The ministry has thoroughly searched Mum's for any more cursed objects. They are safe now."

"It's not The Burrow I'm concerned about," Harry grumbled, "That present didn't come from The Burrow, it came from our house."

"That's what Williamson said," Ginny replied, "That's why they are doing the same checks in our house, probably as we speak. Now go to sleep. Worry about everything else tomorrow."

And Harry knew, as he drifted off, that only with Ginny's permission was he able to do so.

When morning came and the sun broke through the high windows waking Harry up, Ginny wasn't there. Probably went to check up on the kids, he reasoned. Harry also noticed that his corner of the hospital wing had been boxed off with large partitions, so that he was walled in from all angles except one.

Harry appreciated Madam Pomfrey's thoughtfulness; he imagined any student finding Head Auror Harry Potter in the hospital wing in the morning would spread that news quicker than a wildfire in the Forbidden Forest.

After checking his watch to see that it was past ten o'clock, he called on Kreacher for coffee, and put on his glasses in an attempt to stave off the grogginess.

A warning wave of nausea told Harry to take it slow, so he just sat there trying to keep his world steady...

So someone had cursed him; someone had gotten through all the security perks of being Head Auror and managed to get a cursed gift into his house.

The cursed gift wasn't well hidden; once Harry saw it, he recognised it instantly.

Whoever put it there must have known Harry would sense a cursed object; it was common knowledge that it was a key part of Auror training. So they must have wanted Harry to find it. Harry would have bet his vault full of galleons that the curse wouldn't have activated until Harry himself grabbed the gift, ensuring it struck its desired target.

They had played Harry; hook, line and sinker.

He felt like a complete idiot; not because some mystery criminal had outsmarted him, but because they had so easily put his family in danger and he didn't even know it was happening.

He was the Head Auror - the highest ranked officer in Wizarding Law Enforcement - made a fool of, by who he didn't even know, and played with like a cat before it eats its prey.

Had the person behind the Muggle riots been spying on Harry? Had they noticed that Harry was making progress with the case and wanted to give him a warning? Or had they always expected this to happen, and the cursed gift was simply part of their big plan?

And who were they?

Man? Woman? One person? A group? An old follower of Voldemort or a new underground cult? He had no way of knowing.

How could he defend himself, defend his family, when he didn't even know what he was defending against?

"You look like a man with many troubles today, Mr Potter," Madam Pomfrey broke his train of thought.

He looked at her; older than he remembered, she still gave off an aura of care and kindness, with the faintest of stern impressions on her wrinkled face.

"I seldom remember a time where I had no troubles, Madam Pomfrey," Harry replied, with a sad smile.

"I came by because you have a visitor," Pomfrey explained, "The Minister is here to see you."

Harry sighed and nodded, sitting up as straight as he could manage.

"Send him in, then."

Madam Pomfrey disappeared behind the partition.

Moments later, the broad-shouldered, towering figure of Kingsley Shacklebolt emerged, first in shadow behind the partition and then in person.

"Hello, Kingsley," Harry said.

"Bet you never thought you'd be back in this hospital wing?" Kingsley chuckled.

"Certainly didn't," Harry agreed, "Probably the smartest idea Ron ever had though."

"Have they figured out what exactly happened yet?" Kingsley asked.

"I have no idea," Harry said, "I haven't spoken to anyone this morning."

"I'll go and find out what I can," Kingsley said.

"Kingsley, tell my Auror department I want two men watching my house at all times. And I want two spot checks of the house a day for any and all curses."

"Do you really think that's necessary?" Kingsley asked.

"I don't know," Harry replied, "but somehow, my family was at risk. It's not going to happen again."

Kingsley understood and nodded.

"Thanks, Kingsley."

Kingsley patted Harry on the shoulder and left.

~:-(

"Alright, Harry… we've got you an appointment in St Mungo's at three o'clock," Neville had called in to tell him just after noon.

Ginny followed behind Neville with a cup of tea in her hand.

"Want one, Harry?" Ginny asked, ready to duplicate it.

"I'm OK, thanks," Harry replied, so Ginny shrugged and sipped.

"Three o'clock, fine. Thanks, Neville."

"Well, we figured since we've got time to kill, we should find out what exactly this curse has done to you," Neville said, sitting down on a wooden stool.

"And how do you suppose we do that?" Harry quizzed.

"Well, it's obviously going to be something that affects your magic... we just need to know how exactly. Some curses will make you sprout out in boils whenever you use magic, or forget the last hour every time you cast a spell. Slughorn was even telling me that there are some ancient curses that would make you grow horns and everyone around you would spill their secrets," Neville gushed.

"That's fantastic Neville. I really hope it's one of those!" Harry replied, cynically.

"Sorry," Neville grinned sheepishly, "the point is, we want you to do some magic… and then see what happens."

"Fine… but get the boils cure ready just in case," Harry remarked.

Harry picked up his wand from the bedside table. He saw an empty vase on a table behind Ginny.

"Watch out, Gin," he warned, before casting "Accio vase."

The vase slid off the table and then swung in the air and shot into Harry's hand.

"Well, that went well," Harry said, relieved.

"Do you feel any different?" Ginny asked.

"Not any worse than before I cast the spell," Harry replied.

"Try again," Neville insisted, so Harry shrugged and turned his wand to point at the vase in his hand.

"Aguamenti," Harry cast.

The vase filled with water.

Harry handed it to Ginny, who placed it back on the table. Harry decided to try another spell, just for the hell of it.

"Engorgio," he pointed at the vase, expecting it to grow twice its size.

But nothing happened.

Harry frowned; he didn't appreciate the concerned looks on Ginny and Neville's faces.

"It's fine. I just miscast the spell, look: accio vase!"

The vase slid from the table once again… and then smashed on the floor, glass and water splattering everywhere. Neville and Ginny moved out of the impact zone, shielding themselves from debris.

"Another miscast?" Neville frowned, brushing off water droplets off his robes.

"Reparo," Ginny muttered, and the pieces of the vase zoomed back together and formed the original shape.

Ginny picked it up and placed it back on the table, now empty of water.

Harry tried to keep his expression calm; but his heart was suddenly beating three times faster.

He didn't know what; but something was wrong with his magic.

"So that's what it is then," Harry said, "The curse is… blocking… draining my magic somehow."

"I'm going to send an owl to Bill," Ginny said, "If anyone knows the details of this curse, it's him."

"I don't think Bill will be able to tell us about this curse, Gin. If it is what I think it is, most people probably don't even know it exists."

Ginny shook her head.

"I'm calling him anyway; he may not know what this curse is, but he knows all there is to know about curses. Maybe he can help us deal with it, short term. I'll get him to meet us at St Mungo's."

And so when three o'clock came, Harry, Ginny and Neville made their way up to McGonagall's office.

Neville knocked and opened the door when the Headmistress called, "Enter!"

Professor McGonagall looked up from her desk and stood up when she saw who her visitors were. Most of the portraits were either sleeping or empty; Harry saw Dumbledore dozing on the wall behind McGonagall's chair.

"Sorry to barge in, Professor," Harry grinned.

"I am sure you are indeed, Potter," McGonagall replied with a ghost of a smirk on her tight face, "I hope you are feeling better now?"

"Getting there," Harry said, "Random question, Professor: do you know anything about the legend of Dabria?"

McGonagall stared for a moment as if cycling through her memories, but then she shook her head.

"I'm afraid I'm not familiar, Potter."

"Ah, well," Harry shrugged, "It was a long shot anyway. Gotta be off, my appointment at St Mungos is looming."

"I'm going to head over there too, Minerva," Neville said, "It would be useful to know any details of the curse, so me and Horace can work on potential antidotes."

"Very well," McGonagall said.

Five minutes and one Floo trip later, Harry, Ginny and Neville were sitting inside a waiting room at St Mungo's.

They had originally been appointed to the Artefact Accidents ward on the ground floor, but after it had been explained that the cursed object vanished into essentially nothing, Harry was transferred to the Janus Thickey ward on the fourth floor.

This was the floor for permanent spell damage; Harry knew that Gilderoy Lockhart spent a long time here after his backfiring memory charm when Harry was twelve.

"Mr Harry Potter," the receptionist called out when the doctor was ready.

Every head in the room turned to him as he stood. He had asked the receptionist to come and get him instead of announcing his name when the time came but clearly she had forgotten or otherwise ignored such requests.

Every eye followed him as the receptionist pointed him to a healer coming out of a room labelled "Hywel Bird".

The healer had square, black glasses that went well with his grey-black facial hair and square jaw. His hair, short and black, was shaved close to the scalp on the sides.

"I'm Healer Hywel Bird. If you'll come with me, Mr Potter."

They entered the healer's office and Harry closed the door behind him.

The room inside was much bigger than it was on the outside. Harry was bemused how often this surprised him. There were all sorts of medical instruments Harry didn't understand but he definitely knew they weren't used in Muggle hospitals.

The walls and counters were all brilliantly white. A black cauldron lay empty in the corner of the room, the only thing contrasting the rest of the room.

Sitting on the patient bed was Bill Weasley, who greeted Harry, Ginny and Neville in succession and they all took their seats on curved, white stools that Hywel conjured with a flick of his wand.

"Thanks for coming, Bill," Ginny said, quietly.

Bill patted her shoulder affectionately, "I found out the appointment was with Hywel and came for a catch up while I waited. Me and Hywel go way back, don't we?"

Bird nodded with a grin, but turned to Harry.

"I read your file, Mr Potter -" Hywel started, but Harry interrupted him.

"Just Harry, please," he said politely.

Hywel obliged.

"Harry, I read your file and I've spoken with Bill about what this could mean. You say that repeated attempts at magic result in inconsistent or, in some cases the absence of, magic."

"Yes," Harry confirmed, "It's like… something weighing down on me. It's like… I'm being drained of my magic."

"Yes... and I have never heard of such a curse," Hywel sighed, "I'm afraid I don't know what to offer you in terms of treatment. Bill and I have no permanent solutions, but I believe we may have some short-term remedies."

Harry turned to Bill as he started speaking.

"I haven't seen this kind of curse before, Harry, and I've seen… thousands of different curses," Bill grimaced.

"I thought that might be the case," Harry replied, with a grimace.

"But I do have some things that might be useful," Bill continued, "This curse, whatever it is, is obviously very rare and very old. It seems to also be a curse that gets stronger over time. While I've never seen this specific curse before, similar curses with the same traits often need to be sealed."

"Sealed?" Harry repeated.

Bill nodded;

"See, some curses are instant. The curse hits, the effect is immediate, and it's over. Other curses are long-term. They cause chronic issues, or continuous damage to your body in some way. These long-term curses can be set on someone easily enough, but to seal a long-term curse, you must do so in direct contact with the person you cursed."

"So that means -" Neville started.

"It means whoever did this to me, will need to confront me face to face if they want to seal the deal," Harry replied.

"Well, that's my theory, anyway," Bill corrected him.

"What happens if they don't seal it?" Neville asked.

"I would say eventually the curse would wear off naturally."

"And how long do you suppose that would take?" Harry asked.

Bill puffed his cheeks as he exhaled a large breath.

"That's like asking how long a piece of string is, Harry. Could be anywhere from a few hours to a few years. I'd say given the rarity of your curse, probably closer to the latter."

"So, if this curse really is draining my magic… isn't there any way I can slow it down?" Harry asked.

"We have a selection of potions we could prescribe to you, that are used in most long-term curses for general easing of symptoms. However, we cannot guarantee you it will work. And even if it does, it won't lift the curse. It'll simply make it easier to live with," Hywel explained.

"Then do what you can with that, Hywel, please," Harry said.

The healer nodded and unrolled a piece of parchment on his desk, to write the prescription.

"Harry, if anything strange happens, send me a Patronus. A lot of curses are similar in nature, so I might be able to help," Bill said.

Harry nodded, "Thanks."

~:-(

When Harry and Ginny arrived home that evening, after picking up the children from The Burrow, and ensuring the rest of the family that Harry was at least in no immediate danger, they were both mentally and physically exhausted.

The children, it seemed, were similarly exhausted. Lily was asleep ten minutes after Harry tucked her in, which was fast even for her.

James and Albus, once they had asked Harry if he was alright about seventeen times, decided to give in to their own tiredness and go to bed without even being asked, before nine o'clock.

Harry laid on their sofa, the headache he had been dealing with all day finally starting to fade away. Ginny was cuddled up to him and they both watched the Christmas Tree, sparkling and twinkling with lights that shimmered around the dimly lit room.

"Fun Christmas this turned out to be, eh?" Harry grumbled.

"Well, once the kids knew you were OK, and we triple checked all the presents, they had fun opening them," Ginny said.

Harry remembered when they picked up the kids from Molly's an hour earlier, and James had come rushing up to him, telling him how he was the greatest Dad ever, and how he was going to destroy the Quidditch League one day with his new Firebolt Storm, just like Mum.

"Well, if his reaction earlier was James after he had gotten used to the idea, I can only imagine his reaction when he first opened it."

"I've never heard such a high pitched squeal from him," Ginny giggled.

"Well, I'm glad they had fun eventually. Still, why did this have to happen now? I'm going to spend most of their time home at the office or on the field."

Ginny sat up.

"Harry, we don't really understand the full extent of your curse yet. You can't just go back tomorrow."

"But I have to, Gin - this investigation -"

"-will not get solved if you collapse or worse, Harry. You're taking a few days off. You didn't spend years training those damn Aurors so that they couldn't spend a few days running the show without you."

Ginny's face was flushed and Harry could sense her temper rising. It was very clear she wasn't asking.

"Alright, alright," he conceded, "I'll take a few days off."

"Good, because I already told Kingsley you won't be back until the New Year."

Ginny leaned back into Harry, resting her head on his chest.

They were silent for a few moments and Harry pondered on how much extra strain all this was putting on Ginny. He could at least take the brunt of parenting during his time off, so Ginny could focus on her own work. She worked so hard; as a mother, as a journalist. He didn't want her to have him as an extra burden on top.

"I will get rid of this curse, Gin," he said, "I promise."

"I know," Ginny replied, without looking up.