Chapter 8:

I have returned! I am embarrassed to say it has been nearly 4 years since I have last updated. I'm truly ashamed and hope I am forgiven.

Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter or any of these characters. All of that belongs to the brilliant JK Rowling. Some parts of this fic may be taken directly from the book. I by no means intend to plagiarize. Some things are just too good to make any changes to.

Pain. Whether mental or physical sometimes they feel the same. Oftentimes, one cannot tell the difference to which one they are feeling. When both physical and emotional agony are coursing through one's body and mind simultaneously, it can quite frequently be unbearable. That is exactly how Harry Potter felt as his eyes sprung open for the first time in 2 weeks. Alas, pain was not the only thing he was feeling. Confusion was another battle to overcome. Harry woke up in what it seemed to be the bed he had spent the last 3 summers in. Dudley's second bedroom never exactly felt like home but it was the closest thing he had to a home besides Hogwarts. He did not remember getting here. He did not remember anything really. What day is it? What time is it? What month is it, for he had no idea.

Trying to sit up was war between his mind and body. More than anything he wanted to get up and straighten out some of his thoughts. Maybe it was just one of those naps when you wake up and need a few minutes to figure out who what when where why and how? None of those questions ran through his mind because it suddenly wiped itself clean. No new thought could possibly enter his head with the sudden eruption of physical misery Harry felt on every single inch of his body. No battle nor war was won as he collapsed back into the comatose state he was in just moments before.

.

Distant yelling and rumbling footsteps roused Harry from sleep.

"Absolutely not. There is no way in Hell he is leaving here."

"The blood wards Sirius. Please hear reason. He will not be safe here for long-,"

"He is so safer there than he is here. Those muggles are despicable!" Sirius cut Dumbledore off. The man who could normally hold his tongue around Dumbledore was nowhere in sight. He was becoming closer to resembling a toddler having a tantrum every minute.

Harry blinked his blurry eyes open and looked around. He vaguely remembered seeing this room not long ago and thinking he was back at Privet Drive. Now seeing it for a second time more clearly, he could see only a small resemblance. It was very plain, but something about it that he could not put his finger on told him that this room definitely did not belong to muggles.

The bed he lied on was just that, a bed, made up of only wood and a downy mattress. Thankfully a heavy quilt of dark reds and purples draped over him helped shield him from the chill in the air. Other than the bed pushed to the left side of the wall, there was a black leather armchair right next to it, and a desk under a window straight ahead.

Focusing on his current whereabouts and the man yelling outside the door was a temporary distraction from the intense sharp pains radiating over his limp form. Only able to move his eyes which were rendered almost useless due to his lack of glasses, he attempted to look at the men entering the room through a door behind his bed.

Sirius, without knowing of Harry's newly awakened state, strolled in a huff over to the desk that held a variety of potions in all shaped and sizes of bottles. Mumbling to himself in an aggressive tone, he grabbed 3 test tube shaped bottles and turned around to make his way to his godson.

"Merlin Harry you're awake!" the bottles fell from his grip and smashed on the floor. Sirius rushed to Harry's side while Dumbledore watched on from the doorway. The floor began smoking purple and blue at the moment of impact from the ruined potions.

Harry had a slight hunch that the agitated voice he heard on the other side of the door was his godfather. Well at least he hoped that much. Being in an unfamiliar place did not do well for his already scattered mind. Too many thoughts rushed through his brain from the day of the third task, to a distant memory of Snape standing over him, to when he first opened his eyes and thought he was back at number four Privet Drive.

Harry opened his mouth to speak, and it took a moment to understand that there was no dying cat in the room. It was his voice that sounded like a wounded animal along with the accompanying sore throat like no flu he had ever experienced.

"No, Harry! Please don't try to speak. Just try and relax," Sirius sat in the chair next to the boy's bed. Out of Harry's line of vision his headmaster remained quietly in the doorway lost in thought.

"You should be able to speak soon kiddo. You just need to rest and focus on healing, alright?" Sirius spoke softly while stroking the boy's wild hair. Sirius's personality changing completely from the yelling just minutes before.

Tears began to leak over the sides of Harry's face. The graveyard. The horrors from that night rushed back like it happened yesterday. Voldemort is back. The death eaters. Wormtail. Cedric. The dark mark. At the panicked thoughts of Cedric and the dark mark burning into his flesh he attempted to sit up. They need to know what happened!

"Whoa Harry, no no no no no, you need to lie down," Sirius pressed Harry back down into the bed even though he didn't get very far. He was practically gasping for air for just thinking of sitting up. Horrible aches ran up and down his entire body like he was one giant bruise and stiff bones. His head pulsated with the rhythm of his heart.

"Good evening, Harry," Dumbledore stepped into the room into Harry's line of sight. Tears were streaming consistently now with frustration that he could not talk or move.

The headmaster looked at Sirius with an unspoken plea for privacy. "I'm going to get replacement potions for you, pup." Sirius vacated the black armchair to allow Dumbledore to sit in his place. Once Sirius left the room the older man's twinkling blue eyes met dull green. The amount of pain this boy has been through..-

Cutting right to the chase Dumbledore began, "we do not yet know every detail that transpired during the third task. I believe yourself and Voldemort himself are the only ones who can enlighten me with the true blue facts." At the use of the Dark Lord's name, Harry looked directly into Dumbledore's eyes. A look of relief that others knew of Voldemort's return mixed with a look of anguish thinking about all that has happened flooded his face. "At some point, I'm afraid, I'll need you to relive it for me. But for now I will let you rest. There are many people here that love you Harry. We will all help you though this." With a small smile crinkling the corners of his eyes, Dumbledore rose from his seat and left the room.

Harry wanted nothing more than to just fall into a coma and never have to feel this agony again. He could handle the aching in his muscles, soreness his throat, burning of his arm and belly, and the indescribable torment from his scar, but not the absence of Cedric and rebirth of Voldemort, not the taunting from the Death Eaters, and Voldemort's victims climbing out from his wand, and the Cruciatus curse. The whole nightmare replaying over and over in his head until his breathes came in short spurts and blood pounded in his ears. His head launched to and fro trying to get away from this bed, these thoughts, this life.

Remus and Sirius burst back into the room now in a frenzy trying to administer a calming draught before Harry caused anymore harm to himself. Without even feeling the prick in his arm, the potion began to work and Harry knew no more.

Sirius ran back downstairs while Remus stayed with Harry.

"Harry will not be leaving this house Dumbledore. He needs us." Sirius glared into the old man's eyes.

"I agree, my boy. He shall remain here."