"Harry."

Harry's head felt foggy and his nose felt plugged up. He still felt so tired and so he just mumbled into his pillow without making an effort to acknowledge the person trying to wake him.

"Harry!" The voice was more adamant that time and Harry pulled the blanket over his head. He felt the cover being ripped from him.

"Mr. Potter!" Harry opened his eyes blearily to meet the concerned hazel ones of Minerva. She had a hand on his forehead and another clutching his blanket.

"I need you to drink these." She said softly although she might have been yelling with how much his ears were throbbing. He felt a cool vial being placed against his lips and he drank thirstily as the liquid poured down his sore throat. Three more followed after that and Harry thought they all tasted like ash. However, he was surprised when his head and ears stopped pounding suddenly and his throat seemed to be smoothed.

"Better?" She said knowingly and he nodded gratefully although he was still too tired to talk.

"Go back to sleep. I'll wake you for the next round." Minerva rubbed his back soothingly as he fell back asleep.

The next time Harry woke it was on his own as thin rays of sunshine peeked through the heavy curtains. Beside him he was surprised to find the witch asleep in a hard wooden chair with a thick book in hand. On the nightstand there were several empty vials and a glass of water. He grabbed the glass thirstily and chugged about half its contents before Minerva had stopped him.

"Slowly. You haven't had much on your stomach the past few days." Harry set down the glass and frowned.

"Days?" He asked hoarsely.

"You've been in and out of fever since Monday night. It's now Thursday." She explained. "How are you feeling?"

Harry took her question into consideration. His body felt heavy, but not painful and his stomach was too full from the water, but other than that he felt fine. He rubbed the sleep from his eyes and gave a small stretch.

"I feel better." Harry said with a small frown. "I'm sorry if I worried you."

"Nonsense." Minerva shook her head and placed her hand on his forehead. She seemed to conclude he was doing better as she smiled at him. "It seems there was a case of Black Cat Flu running rampant in the hospital wing around the same time as your visit. Magical children who are raised in Muggle households tend to be more susceptible to magical illness as their bodies haven't had enough time to build up an immunity. It's a wonder that was all you caught."

"Oh." Harry said softly. "Are black cats bad? My aunt always said they were bad luck, but she hated all cats I think."

Minerva chuckled and helped Harry sit up. "No, they aren't bad. Many witches and wizards have cats as pets and many of them are black. The flu got its name from how the disease originally came to spread back in the 14th century, but it can be carried by a variety of magical animals. Now that you've caught it though you should be resistant to it going forward."

"Do witches and wizards get sick often?" Harry wondered. Magic seemed to have a solution for everything. It seemed strange to him that they got sick at all.

"Not often, but every year Hogwarts seems to always have some sort of cold or flu running around at the beginning of the year. Do you feel up to taking a quick bath?" She asked and he nodded.

He rose out of the bed shakily. His body felt as if it had forgotten to move over its few days of inactivity. His arms and legs in particular felt especially wobbly, but Minerva kept a steady arm on him as they made their way into the lavatory. Harry looked at the tub warily and then up at Minerva.

"I can help you if you need it." She offered and Harry blushed. He had never really gotten help from a person with bathing before. Aunt Petunia had always just tossed him in the cold water and given him a sliver of soap and expected him to be done with it.

"There's nothing to be embarrassed about, Harry." Minerva said comfortingly. "I've bathed my nephews plenty of times and I assure you there is no shame in needing a little bit of help."

Harry looked down at the tiled floor thoughtfully. He could feel his indignation and shame giving way to his weariness. He had let the house elf help him when he had stayed at the castle, certainly allowing Minerva to help him this once wouldn't be too bad. He looked up at her and finally said, "Please."

Minerva got straight to it and started the tap with a quick flick and helped Harry peel the bedclothes from his still sticky skin. She had given him a towel to wrap around his waist for which he was eternally grateful as they waited for the bath to fill. She rummaged through the sink cupboard before pulling out a few bottles and setting them on the edge of the tub.

"In you go." She instructed as she shut off the tap and offered him a hand. He stepped into the water gingerly and was pleased to find it comfortably warm. Her tub wasn't nearly as fancy as the headmaster's, but he found it luxurious nevertheless.

"Hold out your hands." Minerva instructed again and he followed her direction. She squirted some blue, slimey soap into his hands. "Use that to wash your body. I'll take care of your hair."

Harry rubbed the soap all over and felt relief to have the feeling of crusty sweat wiped away from his skin. The soap smelled like blueberries and he found it left a small tingling wherever he washed. Minerva meanwhile used a small goblet she had conjured to wet his hair and worked in a shampoo into it. She washed away the soap while covering his eyes with her free hand.

"We really should cut your hair soon. You're beginning to resemble an Old English Sheepdog with it falling into your eyes like that." Minerva mused as she finished and helped him out of the bath. She handed him a warm fluffy green towel which he wrapped around himself greedily as the chilly air hit him.

"I don't like having my hair cut." Harry whinged and Minerva looked at him curiously. "Aunt Petunia used to send me to the barber's and he would always shave it off except for my bangs."

Minerva brushed aside his hair to reveal his scar and Harry scrambled to cover it back up again without dropping the towel. She looked at him sadly.

"While I don't agree with many things the headmaster said, I do agree that you should not be ashamed of your scar, Harry." Minerva walked with him into the bedroom and gestured to the small ottoman that sat at the foot of the bed. He sat down and stared at the floor as she rummaged around for a few moments before handing him undergarments, a yellow t-shirt and a pair of slacks. "They might be a bit big on you as Johnathan was a bit larger at your age, but try them on and I can adjust them." She turned around and he got dressed quickly. The slacks fell a little past his feet and the shirt sleeves fell down to the middle of his forearms rather than just above the elbow. "May I turn?" Minerva asked.

"Yeah." Harry answered and she did. She looked over him closely before tapping him with her wand a few times and muttering some words that Harry did not recognize. He felt the clothes shrink around him until they fit his form quite snugly.

"The alterations won't last much longer than a week, but it will do until I can take you to get a more suitable wardrobe. I'm afraid I am not the most talented at tailoring charms." Minerva conjured a large floor length mirror and allowed Harry to peer into it. He almost didn't recognize himself out of the baggy, worn hand-me-downs he had inherited from his cousin. He stepped closer towards the mirror and brushed aside his hair to look at his scar.

He had never really been able to clearly look at the mark before. He had seen it in reflections of store windows and in the rearview mirror of his uncle's car, but never closely. He traced the lightning bolt slowly. His mother had given him this mark the Headmaster had said. By sacrificing herself she had allowed him to live with only a scar to prove he had survived that night. Minerva came into view behind him and placed a gentle hand on his shoulder.

"Our whole world knows that you carry that mark." She began. "They do not think it marks you as anything other than a hero who saved us all from the atrocities of that monster."

"Do you really think I'm a hero?" Harry asked.

"While I think the potential heroics of a one year old are rather limited," She snorted and smiled at him. "I think whatever magic was in play that night was truly of the greatest sort. That scar is a reminder that even in the face of death, love remains with us all. It does not mar you to carry that mark, but rather is something you may take comfort in. Two very talented and wonderful people loved you so dearly that they gave everything so you could continue your journey." She reached into her robe pocket and pulled out the familiar silver book. She handed it to him and vanished the mirror. "Remember them, Harry, but do not dwell on the past. None of us are predefined, it is our actions that make us who we are."

Harry soaked in her words as he looked down at the photo book and opened to the familiar picture of his smiling parents waving up at him. They had given him so much and he had done so little with it, but he was with Minerva now. He would have the opportunity to grow, to learn, and to finally have a purpose other than being the unwanted child in the cupboard. He now knew he was loved and had always been loved and he felt himself fill with a happiness he had never known.