I own nothing.
A/N: So I had a great idea to do an April Fool's post where I say that I'm abandoning this story only to post this chapter tomorrow for the big APRIL FOOL'S moment but I decided to be nice instead.
Enjoy and please, PLEASE!, review. I would like to hear from you all.
Chapter XXI
April 1993
"You?"
Harry could scarcely believe it. Quirrell. Professor Quirinus Quirrell. The former Muggle Studies professor who only this year had taken over Defense Against the Dark Arts.
Said man was staring into a large mirror. Harry immediately recognized it as the Mirror of Erised. In spite of his surprise, Harry still managed to take a quick lay of the land. This chamber felt like a fitting end to the course. It was designed like an amphitheater, made entirely of marble and stone with torches on each of the many archways around the perimeter. Harry stood just at the edge of the stone steps that acted as seating for an audience. Down in the center stage was Quirrell and the mirror.
Quirrell didn't turn around to Harry, only stared at him through the reflection in the mirror. He wasn't standing directly in front so Harry knew Quirrell was actually seeing him and not whatever he saw in the mirror.
He was dressed in light form-fitting robes. There were a few bloody rips and tears all across his chest and back, probably put there by his battle with the stone soldiers. Harry even noticed a few spikes still in the professor's back.
"S-Surprised, Mr. Potter?" A small smile crept on Quirrell's face. Harry couldn't help but note Quirrell's total lack of surprise over his presences here. "But that w-was the point, w-wasn't it."
Harry's instincts finally overcame his shock as he raised his wand, but then Quirrell moved with a speed that Harry did not know he possessed.
"Incarcerous."
Harry's arms snapped to his hip and he nearly dropped his wand as he was bound in rope. He should have been able to dodge or counter but his body was beat down and his reflexes had slowed. The adrenaline his body had been running on was finally starting to run out. In fact, it was a miracle he was still standing.
He grimaced in pain at the new pressure put on his broken left arm. He would have cried out but an additional strand of rope wrapped around his head and over his mouth, gagging him.
"You w-won't be needing that." Harry felt his wand ripped from his hand and caught in Quirrell's. Harry watched closely as Quirrell stashed it away into one of the inner pockets of his robes.
Harry's balanced finally gave way but he was at least able to fall on his right side to spare his left arm. Once on the ground, Harry squirmed and struggled to get free but there was nothing for it. If truth be told, he needed the time off his feet, though, he couldn't speak too much to his comfort level.
"That w-won't do." Quirrell flicked his wand again and Harry felt himself lifted into the air and moved to rest in a sitting position.
"Comfortable now? Good. Now if you'd excuse me, I'm quite busy s-so please be quiet."
Despite Harry's obvious discomfort and frustration, he couldn't help but notice the differences in Quirrell's mannerism. The man always maintained decorum and perfect vocabulary, a compensation for his obvious stutter, but the confidence he now spoke with was entirely unexpected.
Harry continued to struggle but his own fatigue and the ropes were just too much. Harry, instead, bit and chewed at the rope that covered his mouth. He still had to do something, even if only to distract. Meanwhile, Quirrell walked around and studied every facet of the Mirror of Erised. It seemed as if Quirrell had arrived not long before Harry did.
His rustling and groans eventually got the attention of Quirrell. "Mr. Potter, I must insist. I'm s-sure you're aware of the s-situation and my need for urgency s-so please remain s-still and quiet." Quirrell then went back to work on the mirror.
Harry groaned and struggled to speak and kept doing so until Quirrell was forced to acknowledge him again.
"Very w-well." A wave and the rope around Harry's mouth vanished. "W-what is s-so urgent?"
Harry flexed his jaw before he spoke. "Why?" A simple question but one that should get him talking.
Quirrell let out a bark of a laugh. "Is the prospect of eternal w-wealth and life not enough?"
"But you're a good person. People like-"
"People ridicule me!" Quirrell unexpectedly exploded with rage. "Don't think I don't hear them s-s-snickering behind my back w-w-whenever I st-st-stutter!" His condition only worsen as his anger grew. "But I'm about to s-s-show them! S-s-show them all! That I'm s-s-somebody!" By that point, Quirrell was talking more to himself than to Harry and his tone became more like a whisper. "He s-said I w-would. He s-said I w-would."
Harry knew he was losing him but the last thing he said sent a cold shiver down Harry's spine. Who was this 'he' that Quirrell mentioned? Harry prayed it wasn't who he thought it was.
"Someone's helping you?" Harry asked inquisitorially.
Another smiled appeared on Quirrell's face. "W-we all need friends, Mr. Potter. Mine just s-so happens to be capable of a great many things."
Harry started making the connections. "Like finding the Flamels and breaking into Gringotts."
"Everyone has a price, Mr. Potter."
It would have to be a substantial one to bribe a goblin to betray his nation and Harry had no idea what it would have taken to track the Flamels.
"And what was yours?"
"Careful, Mr. Potter. I don't believe S-Slytherin can afford to lose any more points," he replied cheekily but still with a warning tone.
"I just mean, Professor, I never thought you would do something like this."
Quirrell paused for a second as if he believed what Harry had said was true. "Did you know, Mr. Potter, that the Elixir of Life not only grants immortality? That all it takes is one drop and every affliction is w-wiped away. No disease...no handicaps." He turned to Harry and he could see a lifetime of pain in Quirrell's eyes.
Harry had the brief thought that this could be the cure they've been seeking for his father. But his father would never want to live forever without his family. It would have been more of a curse than a cure.
"My w-whole life this," Quirrell indicated to his mouth, "has been all that has defined me. All that people s-see. All they hear. He understood that. He told me how I could fix it. All I had to do w-was get it for him."
"Who's 'he,' Professor?" Harry couldn't hide from it anymore. He needed to know if the enemy had returned.
"A powerful man, Mr. Potter." Quirrell gave him a coy look. "But not that powerful man."
It was obvious that he wasn't going to say any more about his mysterious accomplice but Harry still had to take a mental sigh of relief that it wasn't Voldemort. Quirrell, once again, went back to examining the mirror.
"Confound this thing!" Quirrell exclaimed with a snare. "W-what kind of magic is this? I can s-see w-what I w-want but I can't get it!" Quirrell's anger grew. "I have not come this far to be undone by a damned mirror!"
Quirrell circled the mirror, looking for any new clues. "This is Dumbledore's w-work. The man is frustratingly clever." Quirrell, again, looked back to Harry. "Did you notice, Mr. Potter, how the defenses w-were designed?"
Harry stopped to think and he realized what Quirrell was implying. "Besides the spike bushes, none of them required the use of magic."
"Very good, Mr. Potter, yes. But you w-were always one of the brighter s-students I've taught. The Headmaster believed, like many, that I w-was w-working alone and, therefore, capable of magic beyond measure. S-such a man, s-so gifted w-with the art of magic, couldn't possibly have the fortitude to transverse a trail of the body and mind."
It wasn't such a farfetched idea, though it disregarded that, even if you were in great shape, the obstacles would still take their toll. One of Harry's grievances with their world was wizarding kind's unending laziness. It seemed Quirrell was not one of those wizards. He had fooled everyone.
"But you did."
"But I did." Quirrell paused as if he suddenly realized something. "And s-so did you."
All this time Harry had been trying to distract Quirrell and keep his attention on him, but now, all of sudden, Harry wasn't so keen on the idea. Quirrell waved his wand and the ropes disappeared from around Harry's body.
"Come here, Mr. Potter." Harry's legs moved without his control until he stood beside Quirrell. "Tell me w-what you s-see."
Harry almost didn't want to look. He didn't want to see the images he saw the last time he looked upon the mirror. Let alone describe it to the man that would no doubt kill him once he was done with him.
But this time, Harry stared into the mirror and saw only himself. No field of bodies, no death and destruction, and no sign of the enraged Harry who wanted nothing better than to kill. Instead, the Harry he saw before him smiled, reached into his pocket, pulled out the Philosopher's Stone, winked at him, and put it back into his pocket. The real Harry had to hold back his surprise as he felt a weight fall into the same pocket his mirror image had placed the stone.
"W-what do you s-see!?" commanded Quirrell.
Harry jumped slightly, his mind still searching for a means to escape this new situation he faced. Before he knew, words began to form.
"I see myself, my family, safe and together. There's no war, no prophecy, we're just...happy." Harry's voiced trailed off as he realized something. No matter what the mirror may show him; that was what he desired most.
Quirrell, though, wasn't pleased by the answer. He tackled Harry to the ground and pinned Harry's arms. Pain skyrocketed through his body and Harry screamed in pain as Quirrell manhandled his left arm.
"Tell the truth! Dumbledore knew you'd be here. He knew!" Quirrell ignored Harry's scream and instead put more pressure on Harry's arm.
"Professor Dumbledore didn't tell me anything!" Harry whimpered as the pain in his arm increased. "He had no idea I would be here! I don't know anything!"
"Lies!" Quirrell smacked Harry across the face. "You know s-s-something. I know you know s-s-something."
Harry tried to keep Quirrell's attention away from his right pocket but their shifting bodies caused Quirrell's leg to brush against the stone. Quirrell immediately looked down and noticed the stone-shaped bulge. When Quirrell released Harry's hands to go after it, Harry used the opportunity to hit Quirrell across the face with his right hand. The sudden blow knocked Quirrell off balance and he rolled off Harry, allowing him to escape. He quickly reached in and grabbed his wand from inside Quirrell's robe, before the latter could get up.
"Stupify!" Harry cast but Quirrell proved too quick and dodged the spell. Seconds later, they both were on their feet with their wands at the ready.
"You are a talented young w-wizard, Mr. Potter." With one hand, Quirrell massaged his sore jaw that already had a light purple tint to it.
Harry didn't respond. He was in tremendous pain and felt very light-headed. He wasn't going to let himself become distracted with conversation now that he had regained his freedom. He had to use all the willpower he possessed just to stand upright.
Quirrell smiled at Harry's dueling stance. "W-While I'm curious to know w-what you're capable of in a duel, I really don't have the time."
Harry didn't enjoy that foreboding statement. The fourth year curriculum of Defense Against the Dark Arts focused mostly on The Unforgivables and other extremely dark spells. There weren't many instances for Harry to observe Quirrell's dueling skills. He prepared himself as Quirrell raised his wand.
"Incendio Tria!" cast Quirrell.
Harry was forced to scramble (more like fall) out of the line of fire. The Triple Fire Spell was the highest level of the Fire Spell family that was still part of the curriculum. It wasn't taught until sixth year simply due to the added energy needed to cast. The fire was extremely intense which was evident by its pure blue color. The counter spell was fairly simple but one Harry had not learned yet, so his best defense was to evade.
Harry first used the mirror as a barrier between them. It was a powerful magical object and should have enough resistance to shield him. He couldn't stand there forever though. Harry could hear Quirrell's feet moving to attack again.
"Come on out, Mr. Potter. There's no need for you to die for this."
Harry quickly looked to his left and right. Neither option offered much cover to escape. His only chance was to run straight ahead up the large stone steps and use the archways for protection.
Quirrell's arm appeared from the left. "Incendio Tria!"
Harry sprinted out of the way and up the amphitheater with what strength he could muster. Luckily, due to Quirrell's means of blind attack, he was not able to track Harry's movements.
Harry pressed his back hard against the cold marble. He took a brief moment to enjoy the cool refreshing feeling. The temperature of the room had certainly risen and beads of sweat was already dripping down Harry's brow. Every pause, though much needed, forced him to feel all the aches and pain he had since dropping down the trapdoor. The momentary adrenaline rush of escaping wasn't enough to ignore his throbbing left shoulder, his tired legs, and his back that felt like he had fallen into a patch of cactus.
'I could sleep for a week.'
Despite all that, though, Harry now held the high ground but that was the only good news. Any movement Harry tried was met with the violent blue flame of Quirrell's spell.
"I always loved fire. W-when people would laugh at me, I'd imagine s-setting them ablaze." Harry tried to move right: fire. "I'd hear them crackle and s-scream." Harry tried to the left: fire. "Hear them st-stutter out their pleas for it to s-stop." Every direction there was fire. Harry had no escape. "And I w-would just laugh like they did."
Quirrell's speech ended and a smile appeared on his face. "I can easily obtain the s-stone from your charred corpse, Mr. Potter."
Harry, though, wasn't going to give up. He had to come up with some kind of plan. It needed to happen quickly, too, because the heat and pain were becoming unbearable.
"Give up, Harry," said Quirrell. It was the first time he had used Harry's first name. Harry could hear in his voice that the end was soon upon them. Luckily for Harry, a plan had formed; a dangerous one at that.
After a quick peek around the corner, Harry saw that Quirrell was still standing in the center of the amphitheater. His wand was trained on Harry's archway, ready to cast in whichever direction Harry tried to go. His stance was open, confident that Harry had no way out.
But Harry did.
Harry gripped his wand tightly and braced himself for the pain. In a manner of seconds, Harry jumped out and into the line of fire. Quirrell was more than ready and cast another fire spell. This time, though, Harry made no move to escape. Harry cast a basic shield charm to protect him for the millisecond he needed to cast his own spell.
"Stupify!" Harry cried as his shield failed and his robes burst into flames. The white hot blaze incinerated Harry's robes and he felt the agonizing pain of his flesh on fire.
Quirrell, still concentrated on his fire spell, wasn't able to move or counter Harry's stunner. The red stream of light ripped through the flames and collided with his chest. Quirrell was sent off his feet to crash against the stone steps of the amphitheater.
Meanwhile, Harry had immediately dropped to the ground to tuck and roll to put out the flames. Every time he moved, he screamed and cried from the pain of his burnt flesh. Once the flames were out, Harry rolled onto his back. His body trembled from the trauma. Harry felt a pain unlike any he thought possible. He had only been on fire for less than half a minute but the intensity of the flame had been enough to leave his body almost completely scorched.
It wouldn't be long before he passed out from the shock and then die. But just as his world began to dim, he saw the white beard and crystal-like blue eyes of Albus Dumbledore.
Harry did not know how much time had passed but as he drifted in and out of consciousness, he could remember seeing many familiar blurry faces. The first had been Dumbledore, and then Danny, Hermione, Fred, and George. He had seen his mother, and his Uncle Sirius and Moony.
The one face he never saw, though, was Daphne's. Whether he never woke up while she was there or she hadn't visited him, he didn't know. A part of him wished he could see her.
On the few occasions he could also hear what was going on, he'd hear his friends tell him what had happened.
"...We told Danny and Hermione what happened...Why didn't you wait for us, you git...Found the harp...Figured you didn't want us to follow you...Idiot...Tried to get help...Then Peeves showed up...Threw Dungbombs at us!...Had to answer such degrading questions to pass...He asked if her Aunt Flo and her cousin Red had come visiting yet...Owww! Woman! It's not like I asked about your monthlies!...You don't talk about such things!...
"...Tried to use the mirrors to call Uncle Sirius or Uncle Moony...We hoped Order members had a way to contact each other...They weren't home...Mum and Dad didn't know how to contact Professor Dumbledore...Mum was freaking out...
"...Took awhile but eventually we got a hold of Sirius...Finally got a message to Professor Dumbledore...He apparated right to us...I thought no one could apparate in Hogwarts...Honestly, haven't any of you read Hogwarts, A History...What's reading?...Owww! Stop hitting me, Granger...
"...Dumbledore told us to find Professor McGonagall and wait for him to get you...By the way mate, McGonagall is so pissed at you right now..."
"...Just get better, okay..."
That's what he heard all of them say in their own way. He wished he could say something back. That he was in here and could hear everything they were saying. But his body still needed more time to heal.
One Week Later
Harry felt his eyes open completely. Naturally, it was impossible for him to see anything in focus but he appeared to be alone. He made his routine move to find his glasses but the moment he tried to move his arms, they exploded in red hot pain.
His moans of pain were muffled by a cocoon of bandages that encompassed his entire head and body. He only had a few small slits for his eyes, nose, and mouth.
"I'd advise not moving, Harry." Harry recognized the voice as Dumbledore's and felt his glasses placed gingerly on his head. With the world now in focus, Harry could see the headmaster standing to his left.
"We needed to remove the shattered bones in your left arm and they need time to regrow. As for your burns..." Dumbledore paused as he remembered the sight of Harry lying blackened on the ground in the chamber. "Magical burns are not an easy recovery."
"Errr, that's an understatement," Harry said as best he could without moving his jaw. He felt as if his body was rebuilding itself from nothing.
"Madam Pomfrey expects you to make a full recovery but it will take some time. She also made sure I inform you that if you try to leave before you're ready she'd 'Bolt you down and show you what a fully licensed Healer can put a person through.'" Dumbledore smiled good-naturedly as he waved his wand and a pair of lanterns lit up over Harry's head.
With the new illumination, Harry could now see Dumbledore fully. Harry's eyes nervously lingered on the lantern's flames before they moved his eyes back to Dumbledore. The old headmaster looked tired but pleased to see that Harry was conscious. Harry also noticed a large purple bruise on his face.
"Did Professor Quirrell attack you?"
"Hmmm? Oh this," Dumbledore pointed to his cheek. "No, no. Your mother wished to remind me again of my responsibilities as headmaster," Dumbledore finished with a smile. Harry would smile as well; if he could. "No, Professor Quirrell was found unconscious and apprehended without any trouble. Thanks to you."
"How could you not know?" While Harry knew that Dumbledore wasn't omniscient (though he certainly gave the impression that he was), this seemed like something he should have foreseen.
"To be honest, I don't know." Dumbledore pulled up a chair and sat down. He looked every bit of his considerable amount of years. "I remember Quirinus as a student. Exceptionally bright and focused but never did I see any signs of the power to achieve what he had done."
"He wasn't working alone," said Harry to Dumbledore's immediate surprise.
"What did you say?" Curiosity apparent in his voice
"He had a benefactor that was helping him."
Dumbledore brow scrunched in concentration as he started to stroke his beard. "Did he say who?"
"Not Voldemort but someone powerful."
"That is troubling news, indeed. Poor Quirinus, to become nothing more than a pawn." Dumbledore leaned back as the memories returned. "He always struggled getting along with his peers. Our world has a unpleasant reputation of alienating those with disabilities outside their control. In a world where perfection is believed possible, imperfections were, and still are...unwanted."
Harry understood that all too well. His father's condition was ever at the forefront of his mind.
Dumbledore then grew very solemn. "If only we could question him further."
"What do you mean, Professor?" Harry was confused. Dumbledore was an exceptional interrogator and should have no problems getting past Quirrell's mental defenses. Unless...
"Quirinus had mental fail safes placed in his mind to prevent someone from using Legilimency. No doubt placed there by this benefactor without his knowledge. The moment I attempted to access the information about his crimes, the fail safes activated and his entire mind was wiped clean." Dumbledore took a long sad sigh. "I'm afraid now that he's permanently brain dead."
There was a long pause as both of them considered the weight of what was just said. Mental fail safes such as these were only seen used with covert Hit Wizards. They were only for protecting the most sensitive of information. Normally, the agent was aware of these fail safes and could activate them voluntarily. The type used on Quirrell was rare which was probably why Dumbledore hadn't dedicated it before attempting Legilimency.
"Professor?" Dumbledore looked up. "When I was down there, Professor Quirrell said you knew that I would be there. Is that true? Did you plan for this to happen?"
Dumbledore turned even more dour before he answered. "Certainly not this," Dumbledore indicated to Harry's state, "But yes, it is true. Please allow me to explain."
Harry really didn't have a choice but to hear him out. He was no less angry, though, at the betrayal of trust.
"When Nicolas came to me for my help, I knew that I would have to take every precaution necessary to protect the stone. No doubt you noticed some of the staff's handiwork in the protections but not even they knew what it was all for. I was forced to mistrust everyone I trusted. Not a position I found particularly comfortable.
"The one person, though, I knew I could trust was you. You have shown a remarkable sense of purpose and integrity, Harry. And I'm sure we both came to the realization that I could not always be here to protect the stone. I knew that you were the one person who could help me protect it."
"Why not tell me, then?" Even though Harry still couldn't move his jaw, his tone was no less resentful.
"I was concerned, given the danger, that you'd be unwilling. But once your brother and Ms. Granger had become involved, I had the hope you'd be more receptive."
"And you had nothing to do with them finding Fluffy in the first place?" Harry asked, already knowing the answer.
Dumbledore nodded. "As headmaster, I do have the power to control the main staircase. What the people do on them, however, I do not."
Harry did not hold to that form of logic. The horse will drink the water if you force its head into it.
"And the mirror? Why was I able to get the stone and not Quirrell?"
The headmaster looked ready for this question. A wisp of a smile appeared on his face as if pleased with himself. "Because the night I first showed you the mirror was the same night I placed the stone inside it. I imprinted your image as the only one capable of retrieving the stone."
"So..." Harry coughed and grimaced from the pain of doing so. "If I had never gone done there, then none of this would have happened."
"Not necessarily. As I've said before, 'there is a counter to every magic.' Given enough time, Quirinus or whomever the thief may have been could have deconstructed my enchantment. And, considering the challenges the would-be thief would have to overcome, that was a very real concern to me."
Harry couldn't find a fault with that statement, though he had some doubts that the 'Greatest Wizard of the Age' could have his spells undone by any passerby.
"It still should have been my choice."
"I know." Everything about Dumbledore's body language asked for forgiveness, though the words were not said. "But I couldn't afford for you to say 'no.'"
"So what happens now?" Harry still felt slighted and the trust between him and the headmaster had certainly taken a significant step back.
"You recover, rejoin your classmates, and prepare for your final exams," Dumbledore replied matter-of-factly. Harry didn't find it very amusing.
'Classmates.' Harry suddenly remember something about one classmate in particular.
"Professor, what's happened with Grey?"
Dumbledore reacted to the name as if he had hoped to avoid talking about him.
"Perhaps that is enough for tonight. You need your rest." The ageing Headmaster tried to deflect in his most soothing tone.
While Harry certainly agreed, he still wanted to know.
"What happened, Professor?"
Dumbledore resolved himself that he wasn't going to get out of an explanation. "Mr. Grey, I'm afraid, has been transferred to St. Mungo's."
"Why!?" Harry instinctually tried to sit up and felt the pain of doing so.
The pain, though, still didn't distract him from his surprise. Harry had probably only dislocated Grey's shoulder. Nothing that Madam Pomfrey couldn't fix with a wave and a disapproving look. Did something else happen?
"After matters with you had settled down, I questioned Mr. Grey about his involvement with the attack on you, your brother, and Ms. Granger. When he proved uncooperative, I entered his mind and what I found..." Dumbledore's voice trailed off.
"What? Did you see who helped him?"
"No. What I found was what I can only describe as chaos. Mr. Grey's mind is severely fractured." Dumbledore closed his eyes and took a deep breath before continuing. "What I could discern were two forms of thought that were centered around two conflicting goals. The only reason I'm telling you this is because both objectives were about you."
"Me?" In actuality, Harry shouldn't have been so surprised. Grey had had an unusual fixation on him ever since their falling out. In fact, it could be said that Grey had had an unhealthy interest in him even before that.
"Yes. One seemed to desperately want your approval while the other wanted your complete and utter destruction." The headmaster had a strange ability to deliver troubling news in such a calming manner.
"I don't understand." How could Grey, or anyone for that matter, have two conflicting motivations at the same time.
"The mind is the most complex and important possession of any being, but it also the most fragile. Mr. Grey's mind, in particular, has suffered from a great amount of neglect and indifference. From the loss of his family, to his time as an orphan, to his troubles here, it finally became too much. As a result, I had no choice but to transfer him to St. Mungo's psychiatric ward for treatment," Dumbledore finished solemnly.
There was something else that Dumbledore wasn't saying but Harry didn't catch it. The revelation that Grey's mind was broken was troubling enough and Harry couldn't help but feel responsible. The signs had been there but Harry hadn't recognized them for what they were. He had only seen schemes and betrayal.
"I want to pay for his treatment." He needed to make amends somehow for his neglect, perceived or otherwise, in all this.
"A noble decision but his care has already been taken care of." Dumbledore smiled softly.
"Who?" From the time they had been friends, Harry knew that his foster family didn't care for him.
"Me," said Dumbledore in a manner that said he wasn't going to discuss it further. "Now," Dumbledore rose from his chair. "I believe it is well past time for you to rest."
This time Harry didn't argue. His eyes were already starting to close as he felt his glasses removed from his head.
Dumbledore waited for Harry's eyes to close and he heard the soft repetitive pattern of his breathing. His expression turned into a sad smile at what the young man before him had to endure, especially knowing that he bared some of the responsibility.
The headmaster walked out of the empty hospital wing and was met instantly by Professor McGonagall.
"Did you tell him?" she asked worriedly.
Dumbledore let off a soft sigh. "I told him what he needed to hear."
"What are we going to do, Albus?" she asked frantically. "This has never happened before."
"We will do what we must," Dumbledore placated. "Adrian Grey needs our help."
Another week past and Harry's recovery was progressing on schedule. A majority of the bandages had been removed, except for around his chest which is where the spell had hit him the hardest. Harry often found himself running his fingers over his face and arms. His newly grown skin felt especially soft and didn't show the wear and tear of his many years of training.
This only made Harry want to get up and move around again. All this lying about was making him stir crazy. In his opinion, he felt more than ready to get out of bed and back into the swing of student life. Madam Pomfrey, however, adamantly disagreed and proved true to her threat to strap him to his bed. While no physical restraints existed, he did have wards placed around his bed at night to keep him from leaving.
"You are staying until I say you are fit to leave, Mr. Potter, and not the other way around!"
Fortunately enough, his friends and family were around to keep him company. Fred and George's reaction to meeting Messrs. Padfoot and Moony had been particularly enjoyable to watch. The twins had prostrated themselves and chanted their unending reverence.
"We are worms! Worthless worms! Teach us! Teach us! We are yours to command!"
The Marauder's expressions had been priceless. Harry had, of course, told Sirius and Moony of the twins and their desire to continue the Marauder legacy but they were no way prepared for two people to basically offer their lives in service to them. Sirius's interest in the Fred and George's joke shop had only encouraged more chanting.
The first meeting between Lily and Hermione had also proved quite interesting. It looked as if Hermione had yet another role-model to look up to and now could be heard sprouting off aspirations to join the research division of the Department of Mysteries.
"You mean you get to study ancient magic and even research how it works! I've always wondered about that! You know I read about..."
Danny, meanwhile, consistently blushed through the ordeal at the many side glances Lily gave him about his female friend.
The person who still hadn't visited him was Daphne. Harry had no idea why or if it had anything to do with what happened between them before all this started.
"You're doing well, Mr. Potter. I think we can take off that bandage now." Madam Pomfrey had already pushed Harry forward so she could undo the bandages from his back.
"So I can leave tonight?" he asked hopefully.
"You'll stay one more night for observation and then, yes, you can leave." She sounded just as eager for him to leave as he was.
"Thank you Merlin!"
"Oh believe me, Mr. Potter, I want you gone just as much as you do." Pomfrey unwrapped the final strap of bandages and Harry leaned back. What he saw was striking to say the least.
A large burn scar covered most of his upper chest.
"Damn! I had hoped the Skino-Gro would have taken care of that." She poked and prodded around the edges of the scar.
"You can't get rid of it." He hadn't yet come around to the idea of having a permanent scar: a constant of remainder of his brush with death.
"Not completely. There are a few salves and ointments I can proscribed but right here," she traced a circle right in the middle of his chest where the scarring was most severe. "There's nothing I can do."
Harry nodded. It was better than nothing. He ran his fingers along his chest and wondered if this meant he would never grow chest hair.
Pomfrey continued to examine his chest and asked if he was experiencing any pain which Harry was not. Having done her duty, Pomfrey was quick to leave, muttering incoherently to herself.
Harry leaned back in his bed and absentmindedly rubbed his fingers along the rippled scars across his chest. His eyes closed and he saw flashes of fire and Professor Quirrell.
Harry's eyes snapped open. A shiver coursed through his body at the thought of the flames and sound of his cooking flesh. His eyes timidly watched the flickering flame of the candles that floated above him.
It wasn't very long before the hospital wing lights dimmed for the night. Like all week, Harry was the only overnight patient so he had the entire place to himself.
Harry shifted around until he was in a more comfortable position. He was eager to go to sleep just so that it would be morning sooner. But before he could, he heard the door to the wing open and saw a small amount of light spill in from the hallway. Someone was entering the hospital wing after hours.
Harry had a brief moment of panic, especially since he wand was out of reach, but the figure that came around the curtain was none other than Daphne Greengrass.
"Hi," she said stoically.
"Hi," he replied similarly. Inside, though, he felt a tightness in his chest and butterflies in his stomach upon seeing her.
Daphne took the vacant seat next to his bed and stared at him, her eyes flickering back and forth between his face and the scar on his chest.
"You should know that the fight with Malfoy has been resolved," she said as if reading a status report.
"Oh?" This was not what he expected them to talk about.
"Once he came to, he sprouted off about how you weren't fit to lead and how you broke your word about unprovoked violence."
"And?" he asked, though, he still didn't know why they were talking about this.
"And they agreed." Her voice had taken on a slightly chiding tone.
"So what then? Have I been voted out or something?"
"It's not a democracy, Harry, it's Slytherin." She seemed tired of explaining that fact. "Malfoy still has to show he's better than you in some way. Thankfully, Dumbledore awarded you one hundred and fifty points for what you did so we're back in the lead for the house cup and regained some measure of goodwill. We'll be fine for the rest of the year."
"But next year is..."
"...Fifth year, I know."
They had spoken before about how fifth year was going to be a pivotal year for Harry's reign as the leader of Slytherin. A majority of the upper years still remembered the Harry that defeated King and took over as a mere second year. Next year, though, Malfoy would have the number advantage and Harry had done little to persuade the younger students that he was still best suited for the position.
"We'll figure something out."
Daphne nodded and dropped her head. There was a long pause as neither of them spoke. Harry scarcely knew what to say and Daphne did everything but look at him. It was like there was a giant elephant in the room and no one would say anything about it.
It wasn't long, though, before Harry noticed her eyes became misty.
"You broke your promise." She practically whispered but still conveyed her displeasure with him.
"I know." He regretted what happened and what he must have put her through.
"You said you'd be careful. You said you'd be back." She ranted with a mix of anger and concern. "I had to find out with everyone else about what...what happened." She stopped as she started to choke up.
"I know, Daphne, I'm sorry." If he could hold her, he would. It wasn't often that she would show this much emotion.
"I can't do this," she said as she sniffed back tears. "I've already watched one person I care about die." A single tear rolled down her cheek. "I can't be the dutiful girlfriend who sits by and holds her boyfriend's hand as he lies there, not knowing if he's going to live or not."
"Girlfriend? Boyfriend?" Had she really said it?
She rolled her eyes in annoyance. "Of course that's what you hear."
"No," he cried while mentally kicking himself for being so tactless. "I mean, I'm just surprised, is all."
"You're surprised!?" she exclaimed. "You're the one who kissed me out of the blue, remember?"
"Yeah but you kissed me back," Harry defended. Why was this turning into an argument?
"Well I wasn't going to let my first kiss be that little woodpecker impression you pulled," she jabbed in the way only she could.
"Hey!" It had been a spur of the moment decision. She can't judge him on that.
"You're arguing that mine wasn't better?" she asked, already knowing the answer.
"No, I..."
"See," she finished smugly.
Harry didn't mind losing this round so much. He did get to kiss her, after all.
"So what, are we together now?"
"No," she answered decisively.
"You enjoy being this confusing, don't you?" It could never be easy with her but that's what he liked about her.
"I meant what I said, Harry. I can't do this." She indicated to him and the situation that brought him here. "And I know I can't ask you to stay out of what's ever coming. And I know I can't stand beside you. I'm not a fighter, Harry."
"I wouldn't ask you to be." Harry dropped his head. "If I had the choice, I wouldn't either."
"What do you mean? You're always been about what's coming."
"Because Danny needs me to be." He looked back to her. "But the dreams I've been having. There are things I saw in them that I don't want to happen. I've tried to change. To be different."
Something donned on her. "Is that why you tried to give up your place in Slytherin?"
"And go on that stupid date with Chang," Harry added regretfully.
Daphne scoffed. "Well I've never accused you of being a genius."
"What I'm trying to say is that if you want that I stay out of trouble, then I will." He meant it too. He just wanted to find some peace.
Daphne shook her head. "You can't keep that promise, Harry."
"Will you at least let me try?" He hoped that she would.
There was a long pause as Daphne contemplated his request. She refused to look at him and Harry felt a gnawing maelstrom raging in the pit of his stomach.
Even more time passed and Harry didn't know how much longer he could last. Daphne gave no indication on what her answer may be.
Finally, she looked to him and said.
"Yes."
A cornucopia of joy and excitement surged inside him and a huge smile appeared on his face. If he could, he'd probably do a little dance but, then again, she'd probably dump him right after.
Daphne started to lean in, Harry did so as well. But before they could meet, Daphne's face squished against the ward surrounding Harry's bed. She looked like she had pressed her face against a glass window. She quickly reeled back and her eyes blazed with anger.
"There's a ward around the bed so I can't get out," he said innocently. He probably should have mentioned that.
"You could have warned me." She looked equal parts annoyed and embarrassed.
"I forgot," he answered lamely. He could tell he was already off to a bad start...though, he still found it a little funny.
Daphne pouted as she crossed her arms while Harry smiled a big goofy grin.
June 1993
"I'm worried, James." Lily absentmindedly chewed on her fingernails.
James reached up and pulled her hand away to stop her from a habit he knew she hated. "I'm worried, too." He rubbed her hand as they both watched on.
"What changed? Why is he like this?"
"I don't know."
Outside, Harry, Danny, and Sirius (in his animagus form) were running around in an old fashion game of Wizarding Tag. Lily and James were on the veranda watching their eldest son sport the biggest smile they could remember seeing. It had been so long since they seen Harry look this happy.
"I know its been awhile since we were that young-"
"Not that long!" James cried indignantly.
"-But did our emotions jump around so much?"
"I don't think so." Puberty was hard enough when they went through it. Trying to understand your own child's experience; even harder.
"Are we acting crazy?" Lily stared down at her husband. "I mean, we should be happy that our sons are so happy, right?"
James looked like he had an answer but it devolved to a confused shrug.
"Owww! Bloody hell Harry!" Sirius chuckled as reverted back to his human form and made his way over to James and Lily. He rubbed his bottom after being hit by one of Harry's stingers. Harry and Danny, meanwhile, exploded with laughter as their game become one-on-one.
Sirius saddled up next to James and took a seat. He was extremely short of breath and looked exhausted. "You got to tell those boys to power down a little bit."
Sirius then noticed his friends' concerned faces. "What's up with you two? Did somebody die?" When James and Lily didn't react to his joke, Sirius straightened up. "Wait, did somebody die?"
"No," James assured him. "We're just..." He trailed off which only set Sirius off more.
"What?"
"Have you noticed anything different about Harry?" asked Lily. Perhaps another perspective could help.
"What? No, he's fine." They collectively watched as Harry and Danny in the midst of a wrestling match. "He's just..." Sirius now understood what his friends were so worried about. "...happy." Sirius looked at James and Lily. "Why is he so happy?"
"We don't know," James and Lily said simultaneously with the same tone of confusion.
"I mean, the kid has had more brushes with death in four years of Hogwarts than most Aurors have in a decade." First, the spider attack, then the arrow in the chest, and now what happened this year. Sirius marveled at Harry's lucky streak and hoped it never stopped.
"And last summer he was so...detached." Lily remembered (and hated) the distance between them and her son last summer. She was starting to actually feel crazy for questioning why she had her son back to the way he used to be.
"What changed this year?" asked James. He was the only one unable to go to Hogwarts and couldn't see for himself what it was like there for Harry and Danny.
Before either could answer, they heard the sounds of someone arriving by Floo. None of them bothered to see who it was. Remus was due back after another trip to France to liaise between the Order and the French werewolf clans.
"What's going on?" Remus asked as he came up to stand next to Lily.
"Just look." Sirius pointed at the two brothers.
Remus shrugged. "I don't see anything."
"You don't see something unusual on Harry's face?"
Remus did see Harry's large smile, only he didn't have any trouble realizing what it was for. He then started chuckling merrily at his friends. "Are you all serious? You, especially," he pointed to Sirius, "should know what that kind of smile means."
The three of them collectively turned to observe Harry. The boy in question had successfully pinned his younger brother to the ground and was smiling triumphantly. A small gaggle of birds flew overhead. Harry watched them fly by, closed his eyes, and his smile turned to that of contentment (despite his struggling brother beneath him). For the first time in a long time, they saw Harry look totally at peace.
"Noooo." Sirius drew out. Harry was his godson, how could he had missed the obvious signs. Harry Potter had found himself a girl.
Lily now saw it too. "But we were there. No one visited him besides Danny's friend, Hermione. You don't think..."
Sirius waved her off. "Wrong Potter," he said, referring to Danny.
"So who?" asked Lily.
Before anyone could answer, James spoke up in a very official manner. "Gentlemen, I think it's time for a vote."
Harry walked down the hall to his room, he still had a small grin on his face. He wasn't really thinking about anything but visions of dark hair and deep blue eyes continued to flash in his mind. Just as he stood in front of his door, it opened and two pairs of hands grabbed him and pulled him in.
Harry then found himself planted in a chair in the middle of the room. Standing above him were his Uncle Moony and Padfoot. His father was seated just to the side and Danny stood beside him. For some reason, they all had goofy looking white wigs on. It made their stern expressions very ineffective, though, Danny was fighting a smile.
"What's going on here?" Harry inquired. Collectively, everyone in the room crossed their arms.
"Anything you wish to share with us, son?" asked Prongs in an overly fatherly way.
"A secret about you and someone else, perhaps," Padfoot probed with a raised eyebrow and a ridiculous wide-eyed questioning stare.
Harry looked at the three of them one at a time. He already had a sinking suspicion about where this heading: he didn't like it one bit. "No."
"Really?" Padfoot rubbed his chin.
"Why don't we believe you, Harry?" asked Moony.
They both were trying their best to act intimidating but, given the all the years of knowing each other, it wasn't working that well.
"I don't know," he answered defiantly. By now, Harry had figured out what this was all about and he flat out refused to play along.
The three adults looked between them in silent conversation. Prongs was the first to break eye contact and turn to his son.
"As you are my son, it is my duty to enforce Marauder Law." Prongs spoke with the tone of a judge; an over-the-top judge. "Padfoot, the charges."
"Harry James Potter," Prongs's excessiveness was only outdone by Padfoot's. "You have been found guilty of withholding the identity of a female with which you intend to have relations of a sex-" Moony elbowed him hard in the ribs. "-of a personal nature."
"How do you plead?"
"I am not doing this." Harry tried to get up but Padfoot held him down.
"Come on, Harry, play along." Padfoot playfully slapped him on the shoulders. "It's not like you have choice in the manner."
Prongs cleared his throat loudly. "Again, how do you plead?"
Harry rolled his eyes. "Guilty, then."
"It's Daphne, isn't it?" Danny blurted out. He had kept quiet until now but couldn't contain himself anymore.
"The Greengrass girl." Sirius laughed loudly, breaking character. "Didn't you say you hated her?"
Harry didn't speak. He wouldn't give his godfather the satisfaction. Sirius, though, wasn't letting up.
"Actually, I believe your exact words were that you couldn't stand her." Sirius's smile was still getting bigger which only gave Harry the urge to smack it off his face.
"Now, now Padfoot." Moony interrupted Padfoot's told-you-so moment, much to Harry's relief. "Follow the rules. We must now present evidence on the worthiness of the intended female."
"Right." Sirius cleared his throat as he slipped back into character. "I'd like to call my first witness, Daniel Benjamin Potter."
Danny stepped forward. He was doing a terrible job of hiding how much he was enjoying this.
"Mr. Potter, please describe Ms. Greengrass."
"She's not very nice." Harry glared at him which Danny quickly noticed and then tried to put a positive spin on it. "I mean...she's not much of a people person." He failed.
"I see." Padfoot rubbed his chin more and paced back and forth. "And how would you describe Harry's relationship with her?"
"Well…" Danny thought about it. "They argue a lot."
"Argue hmmm? Could you, perhaps, elaborate?" Prongs asked with a dramatic flourish. Harry had to roll his eyes at his father's exaggerated gestures.
"Well...it's not like angry arguing," Danny clarified. "More like what you and Mum do sometimes."
Prongs grinned softly. His and Lily's little battles of wit always lead to more fun activities.
"Anything else you wish to add?" asked Padfoot.
Danny thought for a second. "She's pretty clever. She can even get one over Harry every once and a while. And they spend a lot of time together, like, all the time. The only time they're not is when we're training."
Padfoot turned to Harry before he asked. "And have you witnessed anything that would suggest that their relationship is more than just friendship?"
Danny looked up as he tried to remember. "Ummm...Towards the end of term, I saw them sneak off a few times and usually when they'd get back, Harry would have a big smile on his face and she...well, she doesn't smile all that much, but she always looked pretty pleased with herself."
"Thank you, Danny. You may step back," said Prongs before he waved his wand like a judge's hammer. "Next witness!"
Moony stepped forward and proclaimed loudly. "I call upon Harry James Potter."
"I'm right here, idiots," Harry muttered.
"What," Moony exclaimed even louder. Harry sensed an unrequited desire to practice law. "Is the nature of your relationship with one, Daphne Greengrass?"
"Daphne and I are friends and we've decided to see if we're more than that," Harry replied curtly. If they wanted details, they were going to have to pry them for his cold dead fingers.
Moony got right into Harry's face. "When did this decision occur?" Moony attempted his best 'medieval inquisitor' impression. He tried really hard to maintain it but he couldn't resist a grin during the prolonged eye-contact.
"After I got out of the hospital wing."
"And what occurs on during these 'insistences' that your brother just described?"
Harry turned beat red and looked away. He and Daphne had only ever kissed but it was still embarrassing.
Thankfully, Moony understood Harry's blush and didn't need him to actually speak. "I believe that will suffice as evidence that the relationship has become intimate." Moony turned to Prongs who couldn't contain a small proud grin. "How far have these encounters progressed?"
"*cough*He means what base are you on?*cough*" Padfoot quickly added.
"Padfoot! I would never."
"Oh, come on, Moony," Padfoot slapped him on the back. "Enjoy yourself a little."
Moony chose to ignore him. "My query still stands."
"What are 'bases?'" Danny asked.
"It's an American-Muggle expression for how far you get with a girl." Padfoot started to explain. He kneeled down to one knee and put one hand on Danny's shoulder. "First base is just snogging. Second base, though, is when you get to put your hands on their-"
"What is going on in here!?" Lily suddenly burst through the door.
"Uncle Sirius was telling me about bases with girls," Danny eagerly explained with a smile.
Padfoot didn't waste any time. Before Lily could even reach for her wand, he had transformed into a dog and raced out of the room.
"Run little doggie, run," Lily whispered menacingly as she watched her foe flee. She then turned back to those that remained.
"The three of you will leave this room right now," she commanded James, Remus, and Danny.
"But Lily," James whined. "This is tradition."
Lily stomped one foot loudly and pointed at the door.
"But we haven't voted yet." James tried one more time.
"NOW!" A few sparks sizzled from Lily's wand and her hair started to rip around like it was being blown by some unseen wind.
"Yes, mam," James quickly answered. The three interrogators knew that they needed to get out there fast or else face Lily's wrath.
Remus, James, and Danny hurriedly left the room in a single file line with their heads cast down. None of them dared meet Lily's heated gaze. Harry, meanwhile, remained seated. A part of him was enjoying watching his mother dominate his inquisition while another part dreaded having to explain any of this to her.
Once the men had left and Lily closed and secured the door, she turned around with a big smile on her face. Her little ruse with the sparks and fake wind to get the men to leave had worked perfectly. She then proceeded to race over to Harry like a giggling little school girl.
"Now tell me all about her," she squealed.
"Mum!"