Regarding Harry
by Tsujton
Disclaimer: Anything recognizable from the Harry Potter Universe belongs to J.K. Rowling et al. I make no profit (story of my life…).
Summary: Harry destroys the last Horcrux and defeats Voldemort – but in doing so, winds up back where he started the night he got his scar: with the mind of a fifteen month old – big baby!Harry. But the Death Eaters are out for revenge… Slightly slashy. Some abuse and violence, so rated: M
A/N: Just a general apology to Latin Scholars for the way I surely have butchered the language to make up spell names. ;
Thanks to katzeboston for her continued beta work!
Beta note: It's my fault again! And after I promised to be more timely, too. I got beta-block! Don't blame Tsuj! I've read drafts ahead of a couple of chapters, very interesting stuff is still to come. :-)
Chapter 11: Trying Times
Harry slept in the ward for three days straight, only half waking enough to take some fortified potions from a baby bottle. Ginny was usually the one to feed him. Hermione found it painful to watch so she made herself scarce at these times, as did Ron (though neither spoke about it to each other). Ginny showed Harry every kindness; her manner was gentle and loving as she fed him, cleaned his mouth and chin or stroked his face. But her eyes were dull and she refused to make conversation other than that which pertained to Harry's care and wellbeing. Her mother made daily visits from her own station by Mr. Weasley's bedside at St. Mungo's (Mr. Weasley had taken several curses in the DE riots ensuing Voldemort's demise), but even this did little to alter Ginny's demeanor. Hermione couldn't begin to imagine what Ginny was going through. They all loved Harry and felt the loss of him – which was what this was – deeply. But Ginny was in love with Harry. What would Hermione do if it were Ron who had been so afflicted?
In the wee hours on the third day, Harry opened his eyes and tried to sit up, but he was still too weak. The sun had just risen and the first person he saw was Ginny. She was sleeping on a comfy chair by his cot, her feet resting on a pouf. Harry let out a heavy sigh and said sadly, "Nee-Nee."
Ginny jumped at the sound which in turn startled Harry, but he recovered quickly. "Mumma Da-ee?" he asked hopefully.
"I'm sorry, Harry." Ginny swallowed hard and fought to keep her composure. A Child Healer from St. Mungo's had had a long session with Ginny, Hermione, Ron, Madam Pomfrey, Headmistress McGonagall and Hagrid about what to say to Harry regarding his parents. Hermione, of course, had focused all of her energy on reading both Muggle and magical theories of child development and had convinced Ginny that the Healer's approach was best. Be honest. Be concrete. Harry wouldn't be able to really understand what death was or that it was permanent. (Ginny noted the irony in that Voldemort sought to make death impermanent.) Still, she wasn't sure what to say to him and wished for Hermione's sage presence. "I'm so sorry, Harry. They – they're gone."
Harry's lip quivered and his eyes filled with tears. "Mumma…ah dohn?"
Ginny went to Harry's bedside and embraced him. "Yes, Harry. All gone. 'M so sorry." Harry pressed his face into Ginny's shoulder and cried softly. Ginny had absolutely no idea what to do so she just held onto him and rocked him gently back and forth. At last Harry stopped crying, and let his head slide down to his pillow. He reached up and gingerly took a lock of Ginny's hair in his thumb and forefingers. He caressed his wet cheek with the silky strands. Harry's stomach gave a low rumble and he started at the unexpected sound.
"It's okay, Harry. That's just means you're hungry." She smiled at him but his look of despondence remained. "I'll wake Madam Pomfrey and see what we can get you to eat." She felt his eyes follow her as she walked to the end of the ward to knock on the Nurse's door.
Madam Pomfrey was delighted that Harry was up and quickly fire-called a message to Healer Chang at St. Mungo's to tell her the good news and to ask her to come for a reassessment.
Feeding a fully awake Harry was a far messier business than Ginny had anticipated. He didn't want the porridge at first, but once enough treacle was added he eagerly slurped down each spoonful Ginny offered. When she dropped the spoon and bent to retrieve it, she found Harry had decided not to wait. He had grabbed a handful of dripping porridge and brought it to his mouth. His pajama front was covered in a trail of the stuff and when Ginny held his wrist to wipe his hand clean with a serviette, he promptly reached his other hand into the bowl. She quickly realized this was a losing battle and just let Harry have at it. She heard a low chuckle from behind her and quickly turned, eyes flashing.
"You have porridge in your hair," said Ron simply, but her glare wiped the smile from his face. Ginny looked down and sure enough, her brother was right. Harry, meanwhile had plunged both hands into the bowl and upset it so that as he was sloppily putting his mush-covered fingers in his mouth, the remaining porridge spread all over the tray and his blanket. Harry was a complete mess, but in looking at his obvious delight in his feast Ginny couldn't help but laugh too. Ron let out his breath and laughed along with her. It had been a long time since he'd heard Ginny laugh and he missed that sound. His relief was short lived, however, as he realized Ginny's laughter now sounded more like sobbing. "Ginny? Ginny – y-you're crying."
"No I am not, Ronald!" she said between sobs.
Ron went to her and awkwardly patted her shoulder. "It'll be alright, Ginny."
"How can it be alright?" Her tears of despair had turned to anger and she let Ron have the brunt of it. "How can this –" she hissed and gestured to Harry who was still solely focused on his food "– be alright? Look at him Ron! It's not fair, it's just not fair!" and she burst into tears again and ran from the ward leaving a stunned Ron in her wake. Pomfrey rushed out of her office at the commotion and, spying Harry happily up to his elbows in porridge, gave Ron an accusatory glare.
"Precisely what is going on here, Mr. Weasley?" she bristled.
"Erm, breakfast?" croaked Ron, lamely.
"Humph. I see." Pomfrey removed the tray and now mostly empty bowl from Harry's lap. "Mr. Weasley, please be so kind as to help Harry up. I think a full bath is in order."
"Yes, Madam Pomfrey," said Ron. Though usually clueless, even he hadn't missed that the usually formal Nurse was using Harry's first name, and wisely, he refrained from commenting to her about it. "Come on, Harry." He pulled down the bedding and reached out a hand to Harry who returned the gesture with a sticky hand of his own. Harry stood unsteadily and fell back to a sitting position on the cot, his hand sliding easily out of Ron's (Ron barely managed to suppress an "Eew" as he wiped his hand off on his pants). Harry promptly turned over on his stomach and slid off the bed to the floor where he proceeded to crawl leaving honeyed hand- and then knee-prints in his wake.
"This won't do at all," said Pomfrey, shaking her head. "Mobilipuer," she incanted, raising her wand, and Harry was levitated a few inches off the ground. He looked around in surprise but clearly enjoyed it as the Nurse raised him up a little higher and sent him down the aisle to the bathing room at the back of the ward.
By the end of the bath, Harry was squeaky clean and Ron was covered in porridge residue, soap bubbles and grimy water of questionable content. He tried to help Harry walk back to his bed, but Harry was unable to stay upright – if he was too weak or simply unused to walking Ron wasn't sure. He used the Wingardiam Leviosa spell on Harry. The ride was by no means as smooth as the Nurse's and Ron suspected (if Harry's laughter was anything to go by) he enjoyed it all the more for that. When Harry landed with a flump on his cot, he gave a half-hearted sigh at the ride's end.
"Sorry, mate," said Ron. "I need a shower." He called to Madam Pomfrey that Harry was all cleaned and she came out to examine his handiwork.
"Well done, Mr. Weasley, though you appear a little worse for wear. Off with you now," she said not unkindly, and shooed him out of the ward. Harry could barely keep his eyes open; he turned on his side and snuggled under the covers as Pomfrey tucked him in. She had a bottle with a very sweetened strengthening potion ready for him and Harry eagerly accepted it. This time he even reached up to hold the bottle and it pleased Pomfrey immensely to see this sign of progress in her charge. "Good boy, Harry," she said, patting his head. Harry flicked his eyes up to her at the praise but his focus quickly went back to finishing the bottle.
Shortly thereafter, Rose Chang came through the Floo network over from St. Mungo's. She brushed a bit of ash off her lime green robes as she stepped out of the grate in the Nurse's office. Just as Chang entered the ward and called a greeting to her mentor, Headmistress McGonagall burst through the main doors to the hospital wing. She held a crumpled parchment in her hand and her expression was fierce.
"What is it, Minerva?" Pomfrey was accustomed to McGonagall's irritability and not at all put off by it. The recent dealings with the Ministry were causing McGonagall to lose her temper with increasing frequency. As she and Pomfrey had grown closer since Dumbledore's death, Minerva often went to the hospital wing when she was frustrated. Poppy was becoming a staunch confidant and friend. Chang, however, looked quite taken aback by McGonagall's sharp behaviour. She nodded nervously to the Headmistress who returned the greeting with a curt nod of her own.
"This owl post just arrived from the Ministry," McGonagall held up the parchment as if it was made of something vile. She handed it to Pomfrey, who began to read it aloud.
"'An Official Summons from the Ministry of Magic's Child Welfare Division'?" Pomfrey looked up for a moment, shocked. "'Harry James Potter is required to appear tomorrow morning at 9 a.m. for a hearing to determine temporary custody –' The boy is unfit to leave the hospital! He is extremely weak and his emotional state is fragile at best. And what do they mean, 'temporary custody'?"
"This is just the first step in Scrimgeour's attempt to wrest Harry from us. It doesn't surprise me that that manipulating old bag wants to get custody himself. Think what it would do for his image. I'm certain the title 'temporary' is meant to indicate that under the Ministry's 'excellent' care Harry will make a rapid recovery." McGonagall paused and a pained look crossed her face. She was doubtful that Harry would be able to recover. She thrust that thought aside. "Oh, and this came with the summons," Minerva held up a strip of black cloth, a look of disgust on her face. "Scrimgeour insists that Harry be blindfolded in public to 'protect' him and others from potential harm due to his 'uncontrolled magic'."
"Excuse me, Headmistress," Healer Chang began timidly, "But that would be very unwise. Mr. Singh has been kind enough to put some of his experiences with, er, Mr. Potter in a Pensieve to enable us to better evaluate his current condition." Chang shuddered at the horrific memories she had witnessed in the Pensieve. "When he was taken by Lucius Malfoy, he was blindfolded while his scar was viciously cut open. Putting a blindfold on the boy could potentially re-traumatize him."
"I'll send an owl to Scrimgeour, but I'm certain he won't be swayed." McGonagall made no effort to try to hide her contempt for the Minister of Magic. She bade goodbye to the two witches and went back to her office to compose a reply.
"Good morning, Harry," greeted Madam Pomfrey as she turned down his covers. "We're going out for a big ride today." She kept her voice cheerful though her heart was filled with dread. Pomfrey levitated a stretcher beside Harry's cot and she patted the center of it. "Come on up, Harry," she coaxed, and noted how shaky he still was as he slowly rolled over and crawled onto the stretcher. "Here, lie down," she said, patting the pillow and Harry sleepily complied curling up slightly on his side and sucking his thumb absently. Pomfrey transfigured Harry's pajamas into slacks and a jumper and added warm socks to his bare feet. Then she removed the duvet from his bed and covered him up. "There's a good boy. Let's get you tucked in, Harry. We don't want you falling off!" She waved her wand and the edges of the duvet wrapped snugly under the stretcher. Then she grabbed her potions bag and directed the stretcher with her wand out of the ward.
The movement pleased Harry no end and he cooed in delight as they ascended the stairs and his conveyance rose higher. Hearing this caused a smile to tug at the edges of Pomfrey's pursed lips, but it never fully broke. Poppy Pomfrey felt as if she was moving in a trance. Was this what it felt like to be under the Imperius Curse? Here she was, about to participate in something she knew in her heart was just plain wrong. Yet her traitorous feet continued to carry her to the Headmistress' office.
Minerva McGonagall paced in front of her fireplace shaking her head. She couldn't fathom for the life of her how Albus Dumbledore had kept his composure in dealings with the Ministry of Magic. She was fit to burst at Scrimgeour's demand that Harry come to the Ministry for his hearing "secured." She laughed bitterly at the irony of his choice of words, for after being briefed by Healer Chang, McGonagall knew that there was little that could make Harry Potter feel less secure than being blinded in a strange environment. McGonagall vowed that she would not do it – Scrimgeour be damned! Her thoughts were interrupted by the sound of the spiral staircase rising. It was time.
"Minerva –" began Pomfrey as she directed Harry's stretcher through the doorway.
McGonagall held up her hand and shook her head. "Poppy, we are going as is. I do not wish to be party to traumatizing this boy further. The hearing, I'm sure, will be bad enough." She reached into the silver bowl on the mantle and closed her fist around a handful of Floo Powder.
Pomfrey's eyes brightened in relief. She blinked several times to clear them and smiled in appreciation at her friend.
"Ministry of Magic," said McGonagall primly, and she glanced at Harry before stepping into the green flames.
Harry's eyes widened as he watched her disappear and he looked worriedly up at Pomfrey. "Pom-fee?" he whispered anxiously.
"It's alright, Harry," the Nurse reassured him. "It's our turn, now. It will be fun, er, like 'uppies'," she added in what she hoped was a cheery voice. Flooing with a patient could be a bit dodgy, but Poppy Pomfrey was an old pro. She cast a steadying spell and put a hand on the edge of the stretcher, tucked her wand into her apron and reached for the Floo Powder.
The great corridor in the Ministry of Magic was crowded with clusters of Ministry workers craning their necks to get a first-hand look at The Vanquisher Of The Dark Lord. All along the wall of gilded fireplaces where Pomfrey and Harry had emerged there was whoosh after whoosh heard as witches and wizards continued to arrive. Pomfrey noted that there was no activity at the fireplaces on the wall opposite them – no one wanted to leave and miss the chance to see 'the great Harry Potter'.
Hagrid and Ron were waiting for them and both stepped up to shield Harry, giving menacing looks to the growing crowd. It was Hagrid's sheer size, however, which served as a deterrent and people kept a respectful distance despite their stares.
"Ahgi!" Harry cried happily and reached a hand out to the half-giant.
"'Lo there, Harry," Hagrid sniffed. Being called 'Ahgi' set off the waterworks each time and Hagrid swallowed before grasping Harry's hand in greeting. The movement caused his huge ring of keys to jingle on his belt and Harry's eyes widened, as did his smile, at the shiny, clinking ring. Harry pulled his other hand out from the snug covering and reached out for the keys. This set Hagrid to sniffling again and McGonagall patted his arm and gave him a nod of understanding.
"It's jus' – he used ter love playin' wi' my keys," gulped Hagrid as he handed them to Harry and watched, reminiscing, as the boy eagerly accepted them. They held his complete attention and Harry was blissfully unaware of the many onlookers staring at him – some in awe, some in pity.
McGonagall did not appreciate the crowd's curiosity about their saviour one bit and was keen to leave the corridor. "Where are Ms. Granger and Ms. Weasley?"
"They went down to talk to my dad. It's his first day back at work. Said they'd meet us in the courtroom," provided Ron.
"Well then, shall we?" McGonagall asked and made to lead the way.
"Hang on, Professor. I jes need ter find me hankie." Hagrid proceeded to empty one of his pockets onto Harry's stretcher. Harry stopped playing with the keys to eye the growing pile on his duvet. There was a dried flower corsage, a few crumpled rolls of parchment, the chipped sugar bowl – sans cover (and quite empty to Harry's great disappointment), a little spade and a piece of black cloth that looked familiar to Harry. It was Draco Malfoy's ripped robe sleeve. Harry dropped the keys and snatched the cloth from the jumble. He brought it to his face and took a deep whiff.
"Piddy boy," he said wistfully, and held it against his cheek as he began sucking his thumb. This elicited many gasps of shock from the crowd. At this, Harry took notice of his surroundings for the first time since they'd arrived. He began to charily scan the faces staring at him and he whispered around his thumb, "Pee-bo?"
By this time Hagrid had located his spotted hanky, thoroughly blown his nose and had returned the other items back into his pocket (including the abandoned key ring) while Pomfrey was directing Harry's stretcher after McGonagall so they could register their wands at the security desk.
As the Headmistress handed her wand to the security witch, the lift doors opened down the hall and a dozen or so reporters swarmed out and started shouting questions at the quintet. McGonagall huffed and rolled her eyes saying, "Ignore them," out of the corner of her thinly pressed mouth. This was easier than expected; for due to their attempts to out shout each other, the reporters' questions were completely unintelligible. Madam Pomfrey asked Ron to take over the levitating spell on Harry's stretcher, as she made ready to register her wand.
"Wingardium Levi-" began Ron as a particularly shrill voice was heard above the others:
"Mr. Weasley, is it true that your sister is carrying Harry Potter's love child?"
"– os-waaaaaaaahhhhh?" shouted Ron in shock. Harry's stretcher soared up toward the high domed ceiling and began to roll. The crowd gasped in horror as one, drawing Ron's attention back to Harry.
Harry was startled by the sudden flight, and Ron could see his white-knuckled fists clutching Draco's tattered sleeve. Harry cried out as the stretcher rolled him higher – thankfully the duvet had been well spelled with a sticking charm and held him securely from toes to chest.
McGonagall, who mercifully had her wand back, shot a "Finite Incantatum," which cancelled both the levitation charm on the stretcher and the sticking charm on the duvet. She followed swiftly with a "Wingardium Leviosa," aimed at Harry. When the first spell hit, the stretcher began to drop, and Harry began to fall. Someone at the back of the crowd screamed, but before anyone else had time to panic, the second spell hit, catching Harry, who swiftly rose up before slowing and floating gently downwards. His conveyance clattered on the floor and the crowd gasped again. "Hagrid, would you kindly…?" the Headmistress asked as she directed Harry toward the giant's outstretched arms. Ron and Madam Pomfrey rushed to check on Harry as he alighted. His eyes were wide as saucers, though the whole incident had passed in the space of moments. He managed to look both scared and delighted at the same time.
Harry let out a great breath through his nose that sounded suspiciously like a chortle and wearily rested his head against Hagrid's massive shoulder. He looked down at Ron, a lopsided grin plastered on his face. "Moh?" he asked hopefully.
Ron and Pomfrey shared looks of relief, but Rita Skeeter, who had emerged from the murmuring crowd, interrupted them. "Well, Mr. Weasley? Is it true?"
Ron rounded on The Daily Prophet's most devious reporter. His eyes were flashing and his face was bright red. "Sod off, Skeeter! You nearly killed him spouting that bloody rubbish – and don't you EVER speak about my sister you –"
"Mr. Weasley," McGonagall's sharp voice cut him off, though her own eyes were glaring daggers at Skeeter. "We will be going now Ms. Skeeter. I do have two parting words for you: No. Comment."
Skeeter appeared undaunted by this and was about to step forward again when Ron added, "Bug off," with a meaningful scowl.
Skeeter's eyes narrowed and she stepped back into the crowd. McGonagall aimed her wand at the now broken stretcher on the floor and uttered a particularly violent-sounding "Reparo!" Pomfrey stepped forward quietly murmuring charms, and the cot floated up to Hagrid, who gently set Harry down on it. The duvet drifted over Harry's form and wrapped itself snuggly around him once again.
"All right, all right. Clear the corridor. This unauthorized gathering is causing a safety hazard." Several security witches and wizards had just come off the lift and began dispersing the crowd. Harry watched all these goings-on with what appeared to be detached interest. He brought Draco's sleeve back up to his face, absently stroking it against his cheek sniffing at it slightly.
The quintet made their way toward the lift as soon as the path had been cleared. They took it to level three and by the time they got off, Harry had snatched one of the Ministry's inter-office memos: a pale violet paper airplane, which struggled valiantly until it escaped his grasp.
The Minister himself was waiting for them at the doors to the courtroom, flanked by two burly looking wizards attempting to look un-intimidated by Hagrid and failing somewhat. Here, too, there were clusters of people hoping for the chance to view their saviour. Scrimgeour's posture stiffened when he saw Harry and he quickly turned his head away. "Headmistress," he growled, "This is absolutely unacceptable. Who knows how many people the boy has affected en route here?"
McGonagall took a deep breath and tried to channel her predecessor. "Minister Scrimgeour, did you not read the reports from Mr. Singh and Healer Chang?" Here she stepped away from Harry and turned slightly to face the crowd. "The last time this boy was blindfolded, Lucius Malfoy viciously attacked him with a dagger. Would you have the saviour of the wizarding world traumatized so again? I should think we owe him a bit more respect and gratitude than that!" Her words had the desired effect; the witches and wizards close enough to hear began buzzing amongst themselves discordantly.
Scrimgeour knew exactly what McGonagall was trying to do, and he was determined to have none of it. He turned to the wizard on his left and spoke quietly to him. The Auror was quite tall and despite his youthful features he had a very no-nonsense demeanour about him. "All right, the rest of you lot," he addressed the remaining witches and wizards. "Clear this corridor at once. Go back to your business – off wi' you, now." He moved off to usher some of the more persistent onlookers out of the area.
As soon as the hallway in front of the courtroom had emptied, Scrimgeour spoke. "Professor McGonagall, I have read and reread the reports and I have personally interviewed both Bertrand Singh and Rose Chang, which is how I have come to the obvious conclusion that they – like you and your entourage – are unfit to participate in the discussion of Harry Potter's guardianship."
"Minister, you have already disqualified the Weasleys and Remus Lupin from having a say in Mr. Potter's future. We are the next closest thing to family the boy has, and we are neither swayed by magic or by political interests when it comes to deciding what is best for Harry Potter."
"I resent that, Professor. And it is quite clear to any onlooker that you are being swayed by Mr. Potter's self-protection spell. As I understand it, this young man has the mind of an infant. Is that not correct?"
"It is, Minister, as you well know," McGonagall replied tartly.
"And as such, he is in no condition to understand or choose what is truly in his own best interests.
"Minister," began McGonagall, but Scrimgeour cut her off.
"Let me finish, Professor, please. You have been exposed to this continuous outpouring of magic and as a result, I fear your opinions are skewered toward Mr. Potter's infantile desires."
McGonagall had to stifle a growl at his patronizing tone. "Even if that were so, Minister," McGonagall shot back. "A child needs to be with those he trusts and those who love him and not his fame."
"Enough!" Scrimgeour roared, exasperated. "Let us allow the court to do its job and decide what is best. Expeliarté! Obvolvo!" McGonagall, Pomfrey, and Ron's wands all flew out of their hands, while the duvet on Harry's cot suddenly rose up and covered his head completely. Harry let out a startled exclamation as his world went dark and he began to push at the covers with his hand.
"Minister! Stop this at once!" demanded the Nurse. As she ran to Harry's side, one of Scrimgeour's Aurors stepped in front of her, blocking her path. The other had his wand trained on Hagrid, Ron and McGonagall. They watched helplessly as Harry's stretcher floated through the opening doors of the courtroom and they shut behind him with a loud thud, silencing Harry's frantic cries of distress.
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Next up, Chapter 12: Harry's Second Chance
(Are you there, reader? It's me, Tsuj… If you are real, won't you give me a sign?)