Disclaimer: I own nothing of the 'Harry Potter' universe. I make no money writing this stuff.
A/N: I've corrected most of the mistakes that were pointed out by you kind reviewers… Many thanks! (I really could use a beta reader ; ) I warned you all that this would get worse before it gets better… so here goes, and let the flaming begin! (Word Count: 4403)
Chapter 5: The Bat and the Book
Wednesday, March 2nd, 1988 - 10:21 PM
Harry stayed awake inside of his 'bedroom,' silently listening for any telltale noises in the house. When he entered the cupboard, he was careful not to close the door all the way to prevent the latch from snapping closed. If he heard any sound on the stairs above him, he'd have to close the door all the way and hope the sound of the latch wasn't detected. Being in his cupboard with the door unlocked was an extremely rare opportunity, and he had every intention of using said opportunity to the fullest.
Harry was fully aware that his uncle was awake when he had arrived home with Miss Figg, even though the house appeared to be asleep from the outside. He could see the corner of the shade pulled up in his aunt and uncle's bedroom on the second floor. He was thankful that she didn't press him to meet his uncle. Vernon would have been genial enough to her face, only long enough to get her to leave quickly, but the repercussions to him would probably have been severe if the girl mentioned anything at all about his injuries. If Vernon had suspected that Harry had even hinted at being injured to anyone, his uncle would have made life for him exponentially more unpleasant than it already was. That eventuality must be avoided at all costs… he remembered the last time that Vernon was questioned about Harry's home life by one of the neighbors who, strangely enough, had the same last name as the girl who had cared for him that day. He still bore the scars on his upper back from that day.
Every so often, Harry would peek out from the cupboard to look at the illuminated clock in the kitchen. He fully expected his uncle to come down the stairs to inspect his work, but this night he was unexpectedly lucky. When he heard the unmistakable snores of his uncle, Harry glanced out through the door at the clock and saw that it was just past eleven.
Harry waited another half hour before venturing out of his cupboard, just to make sure that the rest of the house's occupants were accustomed to his uncle's thunderous snoring. He made his way up the stairs, being careful to step over the third step, which would creak loudly with any weight placed on it. That particular step almost had him discovered the last time he was free from his cupboard. He barely made it back before his aunt sent his uncle hurrying down the steps to investigate the noise.
As he neared the top of the stairs, he cautiously peeked over the top step and looked down the darkened hallway. All of the doors were open except for Dudley's bedroom, which was the second door on the right. The first door on the right was the guest bedroom, and the first door on the left was Dudley's second bedroom where he stored all of his unread books, broken or boring toys, and anything else that he couldn't squeeze into his regular bedroom. Beyond Dudley's second bedroom was the bathroom, and at the very end of the hall was his aunt and uncle's bedroom.
In the very dim illumination that came from a nightlight in the bathroom, he could just make out the silhouette of his aunt and uncle… well, mainly his uncle, lying still on their bed. He wished that their door was closed… it would make it easier for him to move around without having to worry about any little noise he might make. If he was caught up here… well… he didn't want to think about that.
As quietly as he could, he crawled across the carpeted hallway and into Dudley's second bedroom. After silently closing the door, he breathed a sigh of relief. The hard part was over. He crept over to the window and raised the blind to let in the light from the lamppost that was just outside. With the new light, he was able to navigate through the room without much worry about accidentally bumping into something.
Harry looked around at all the wonderful toys and things that Dudley either broke or got bored with. Heaven forbid he throw out the stuff that was useless to him, much less giving them to Harry to play with, broken or not.
Harry immediately went to the shelf that held Dudley's old hand-held video game. The only thing wrong with it was that his cousin stuck a pencil through the hole that held the speaker. Since he couldn't hear the sound, he whined and cried until Vernon got him a new one, resigning the 'broken' game to the second bedroom.
Having no sound on the game made it perfect for him to play with. He huddled in a corner and switched the game on, fully prepared to spend an hour or two lost in mindless electronic entertainment. To Harry's dismay, the screen remained dark. The batteries were either dead or removed to power one of Dudley's other toys. After a thorough search, he found that all of the games that ran on batteries were either dead or empty. Not wanting to waste this rare trip to the black hole that was Dudley's 'broken toy room,' he searched around for other forms of entertainment that wouldn't make noise.
Amongst all the games and puzzles that had key pieces missing, action figures that had broken or missing arms, legs or heads, and other items that made different noises, he found nothing that was suitable. He was reduced to perusing the unused bookshelf for something to read. Harry scanned over the books, most of which were Dudley's nearly pristine textbooks from past school years. He managed to find a story book that his cousin had gotten from his aunt Marge for his birthday. He remembered that day, and the look on Dudley's face when he unwrapped his present and found a book beneath the colourful paper. That particular tantrum lasted a solid two hours, a full twenty minutes longer than when he received his first article of clothing as a gift. Of course, Dudley quieted down when Marge slipped him another five quid note.
Harry took the book and sat near the window. There was just enough light coming through for him to read by. The book was a collection of differing fictional short stories. Some were about space travel, some were mysteries, and a few were fantasy stories. It was one of the space stories that he decided to read.
Harry lost track of time while he was reading, so engrossed in the story that it took him a while to notice the strange hissing noise that sounded like bacon frying coming from somewhere behind him. When he first noticed the noise, he instinctively ducked into the shadows below the window and then remained perfectly still. The hissing was getting increasingly louder as he scanned the darkened room trying to find the source of the noise that was getting nearly loud enough to possibly wake one or all of his relatives.
Then he saw it. On the floor, just in front of the bookshelves, was a faintly glowing circle. Harry quickly stood up and pulled down the blind against the incoming light, engulfing the room in near complete darkness. In the newly darkened room, he could clearly see the eerily glowing circle. He moved a bit closer, and was startled to see a bunch of weird, smoking letters appearing from out of nowhere around the outside of the circle. The letters didn't appear to be of any alphabet he knew, they looked to him more like some kind of symbols. He stood transfixed as he watched the symbols appearing one after the other, as if some invisible hand was drawing them around the circle in a glowing, florescent red ink.
Harry shook himself out of his daze when he realized that the hiss was becoming alarmingly loud. Panicking, he did the only thing he could think to do… he threw himself down on the floor, covering the circle with his body in hopes of muffling the sound. He quickly discovered that it probably wasn't the brightest thing for him to do.
Harry immediately let out a surprised yelp as he felt a burning heat penetrate his shirt. He instinctively rolled away from the circle clutching his burned chest, his hiss of pain echoing the hissing of the now smouldering circle. Suddenly, a booming crack echoed throughout the room. It felt to Harry that the whole house shook from the resounding noise.
Harry stood there in wide-eyed panic. He was going to get caught in Dudley's second bedroom. He was going to get punished… very harshly punished. He was going…
Harry's frightened eyes passed over the spot on the floor where the circle had been, but there was no glowing circle, no strange lettering… nothing at all… except…
Harry saw that boards in the floor was lifted up, exposing a dark space beneath. He could just see a corner of a thick, hardcover book propping the board up, as if the book had pushed that board up from below.
He didn't know why, especially when he was fully aware of the absence of his uncle's snoring, but he reached down and pried the loose floorboard the rest of the way up. He picked up the book, and when he read the leather-bound cover, his mind seemed to go blank. It read, 'The Life of Harry James Potter.'
He was still staring numbly at the cover when the door burst open. Vernon Dursley stepped into the room with a fire in his eyes and a cricket bat in his hand. In the dim light of the hallway behind his uncle, Harry could just see the faces of his aunt and cousin. Petunia's eyes were narrowed dangerously, while Dudley was looking at him as though he had been violated just by Harry's presence in his second bedroom.
"You've done it this time, boy!" roared Vernon as he walked threateningly towards him with the bat raised, "This is the last straw!"
Harry dropped to his knees and reflexively raised the book in his hands to cover his head. He had seen Vernon angry before, but never, ever this angry.
Sooner than he had expected it, he felt the bat connect with his shoulder and heard a sickening crack. It took a moment for his brain to register the pain, but as soon as he felt the first sharp spasm, he felt the second blow bypass the shielding of the book and connect with the side of his head.
Harry had never felt this scared in his life. Tiny lights were dancing before his eyes and the only thing he could really hear was a pulsating, buzzing sound in his ears. Only one thought raced through Harry's head… he was going to die. He was going to die right here, right now.
Then, in the span of a heartbeat, a dozen thoughts began racing through his mind. At least he had a last meal… a last meal with a kind and pretty girl, who apparently wasted her time bandaging up his chest because he was about to die… That girl seemed to like him… he felt safe with her in her mother's office at school… safer than he had felt anywhere else…
Another blow connected with Harry's chest. As he was still trying to protect his head with the book, he left the rest of his body unprotected. The thought he heard Vernon yelling something about teaching and lessons, and his aunt screaming for someone to stop doing something, but is head was spinning so badly that he really couldn't make out the words.
He now wished the girl did come into the house… maybe this wouldn't be happening… he'd be safely locked in his cupboard… he wished he was safe… he wished he was in a safe place… he wished he was in that girl's office at school…
Harry thought he felt another strike from the bat, but he wasn't sure… what he was sure of was that he was about to die. It felt as though he were placed inside of an uninflated balloon and being squeezed from all sides. Is that what dying felt like? Maybe he'd see his parents… He couldn't breathe, either due to the suffocating, 'inside a balloon-like' sensation, or because of his newly re-injured chest… he couldn't be sure, but it didn't matter anyway… he was dead… he was dead…
That was the last thought before his consciousness left him for the second time that day.
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Thursday, March 3rd, 1988 - 6:51 AM
"Harry…?"
'…'
"Harry? Come on, love, stay with me… the healers will be here any moment."
'Where is that voice coming from? Mum? Is that you?'
"Damn, if they don't get here soon, I'm going to lose him… I haven't been trained for this stuff yet!"
'I know that voice… Miss Figg?'
Pop…! Crack… Pop!
'What was that?'
"Thank Merlin you're here! I dropped him off at his house last night. When I came in this morning, I found him here like… like this… about ten minutes ago… I think he's been here all night. I have no idea how he got into the school, or this office!"
"What have you determined so far?"
"He's got a fractured skull, a compound fracture of the left collarbone and humerus. His right lung is punctured, I think, most likely from the four broken ribs… they were only cracked this morning… he's been coughing up blood… I tried to get the bleeding from his ear to stop, but I didn't want…"
"Merlin's beard!" said a male voice, "That scar! Is that… is that Harry Potter?"
'That voice is unfamiliar… how does he know me?'
"This isn't good… massive internal bleeding… he's lost too much blood… No, that potion won't help him now…"
Ding… Ding… Ding…
'That's a weird sounding bell…'
"We're losing him…" said an unfamiliar female voice.
"Oh, no you don't, lad…" said a different male voice, "'The Boy Who Lived' isn't dying on my watch! 'Aspis Mortis Arresto!'"
…Darkness…
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Saturday, June 4th, 1988 9:02 AM
"Good morning, love. Are you going to talk to me today?"
Harry heard the sound of a curtain being drawn back. Though his eyes were closed, he could tell that the brightness of his surroundings increased tenfold. He then heard a window being raised, and a moment later felt the cool early summer air wash over his face. He could now hear the increased volume of the chirping of birds from outside.
"You've got to wake up sometime, you know…" said the pleasant female voice that he thought he recognized as Miss Figg's.
It was hard for him to tell anything. He felt as though he was run over by a bus. He tried to think of the last thing he could remember, but his mind was strangely clouded. After a few moments of lying still, he tried to move, but his entire body felt so stiff and sore that his limbs weren't cooperating with his mental commands. Harry then felt a soft hand brush his cheek. He wasn't expecting it and he involuntarily flinched his head away at the touch, the movement of which caused a groan of protest to leave his lips.
He heard a sharp intake of breath and the words, "Oh my!" An instant later he heard the sound of feet hurrying away, and then a door being opened. Harry cracked open his eyes just in time to see the back of Miss Figg hurriedly disappearing from the room.
Harry's eyes wandered around the wholly unfamiliar room he was currently in. The first thing he noticed was the bed he was laying upon. It was huge, much larger than even his aunt and uncle's bed. He was covered in clean, cream-coloured sheets, and his head was resting on a large, very comfortable pillow. He was in a very old looking room, with wallpaper which bore a print of hanging vines, antique furniture scattered throughout, and a rather large bay window that he knew was just opened. A few old paintings adorned the walls, as well as a wide shelf that held a bizarre assortment of very strange stuffed animals such as dragons, unicorns, and some others that he couldn't even begin to fathom what they were. Out of the corner of his eye, he thought he saw movement from one of the paintings, an ancient looking portrait of a small black boy in knickerbockers and a ruffled shirt, but just assumed his eyes were playing tricks on him.
The sounds of footsteps and a rushed, whispered conversation came drifting through the open doorway. The footsteps stopped just out in the hallway and Harry could barely make out portions of the banter.
"…I don't care!" said the hushed voice of Jaana Figg, "I'm the one who's been caring for him these past months… I know, but I'll be damned if they're going to take him away now!"
Another voice, deep and slow, made a comment that Harry couldn't quite hear.
"What?" Jaana said loudly before lowering her voice again, "He'll just get sent…" The rest of her sentence was so low that Harry couldn't hear it until the very end when she said forcefully, "…Promise me!"
"Harry heard the strangely accented male voice sigh before he said, "Alright, I hope you know what you're getting into."
Janna then entered the bedroom and smiled at Harry. She was immediately followed by a rather stocky middle aged man with very dark skin, a wide, jovial face, and a dark mass of long hair that fell around his head like a rag mop.
"Well, how is our little patient today," asked the man in what Harry recognized to be a Jamaican accent.
Harry, still being a bit confused over what had happened to him, looked at Jaana and hoarsely asked, "Where am I?"
Jaana sat beside Harry on the bed and ran her palm over his forehead as she answered, "This place is called The Gables. It's owned by my friend here, Healer Raymond Cooley," Jaana looked closely at Harry's eyes as she asked, "Do you know who I am?"
"Of course… You're Miss Figg… You think I'd have forgotten since yesterday?"
Jaana glanced nervously at her friend before turning back to Harry and asked, "Do you remember what happened to you?"
"Something happened to me?" asked Harry in surprise. He made another attempt to recall what had transpired the night before… he remembered having dinner… which was very good… he remembered cleaning the kitchen when he got home, and… and… 'Dudley's second bedroom!' Harry suddenly remembered! Reading the story book, the strange, glowing circle, being caught by his uncle… and the odd book he found beneath the floorboard!
Harry instinctively raised his hand to the side of his head, as if feeling for the place where his uncle had struck him with the cricket bat. He opened his mouth to say that he remembered being hit, then snapped it shut when he realized that he was about to tell on his uncle.
Just by his actions, Jaana could tell that he did remember, and she could see his reluctance to say anything about it.
"Don't worry, love," said Jaana kindly, "We already know what your uncle did to you, so you don't have to say anything if you don't want to. I just want you to know that I'll do everything in my power to make sure you never have to go back there again."
While Jaana was speaking, Harry was watching the man who was with her waving a stick at him while mumbling words that weren't quite words at all. As the man was waving the stick, Harry could feel different parts of his body tingling as if mild electric shocks were passing through him.
"Well, I'd say you've done a fair job with the child," said Healer Cooley, "He checks out alright, and he seems to be alert and aware with all of his screws in place. Just make sure he stays off of his feet for a few more days and gets enough rest over the next few weeks… and get him something to eat, woman! The child's probably starving after being force-fed nothing but potions for months."
Harry was only half paying attention until he heard the man say he should stay off his feet for a few days, "Excuse me, but I have a test next week… will I be able to go to school?"
Jaana and Cooley looked at each other again, and Harry began to get nervous at their shared expression of concern.
"You're not going back to school, Harry. From now on, you're going to be home schooled as a proper wizard should. I've already removed your records from the muggle school, the proper memory modifications have been made to the staff and…"
"Home schooled?" asked Harry in surprise, until the rest of her sentence caught up to him where he asked suspiciously, "Wizard? You mean like the magicians you see on the telly?"
"No, not like a muggle magician, 'muggle' meaning a non-magical person, by the way. I mean like a wizard… a real wizard, using real magic… like this…"
Janna pulled out a stick that was similar to the one used by Healer Cooley, except that hers was a reddish colour while his was a pale beige. She pointed the stick at a glass vial that was sitting on the nightstand next to his bed. Suddenly, the vial vibrated for a moment before it began shifting, changing colour and shape, elongating and expanding until it was no longer a glass vial, but a rusty-brown puppy that leapt from the nightstand into Harry's lap and began licking his face energetically. If Harry hadn't seen it with his own eyes, he would never have believed it.
"That's called a mineral to animal transfiguration," explained Jaana to a stunned Harry as she changed the puppy back to a glass vial, "There are many types of transfigurations possible, and many other classes of spells that you will learn about, such as charms, jinxes, hexes, curses, et cetera."
"How do you know I'll be able to do all that?"
"Simple… because you're a wizard, just like your father was a wizard like Ray here… and your mother was a witch, just like me."
"How do you… did you know my parents?" asked Harry breathlessly, then his eyes widened even more as he said, "Wait… you're a real witch? You don't look like one…"
"Yes, I am a 'real' witch, did you expect a warty nose and a black, pointy hat? Well, I have the hat, but that's besides the point… and all magicals know of your parents… and of you. You're the famous Harry Potter, 'The Boy Who Lived.' There have been books written about how you defeated 'You-Know-Who' when you were a babe… There are stories and songs written about you, too."
Harry sat on the bed in a daze, trying to take all this information in. 'The Boy Who Lived?' he thought, 'Where have I heard that before?'
"I've got to head back to St. Mungo's before I'm missed," said Healer Cooley as he stepped towards the doorway, "I'll stop by next week to check on the child. I'll respect your wishes and not tell anyone where you are, but you're going to have to tell somebody sometime. You know the Ministry's in an uproar, and Dumbledore and the Wizengamot are beside themselves… I hope you know what you're doing." Cooley looked back at Jaana for a moment and said, "We all miss you at the hospital… you were one of the brightest trainees to come along in a long time. You would have made an excellent healer."
"I'll be careful, Ray," said Jaana with a smile, "Thanks for everything."
After the healer had left, Harry asked, "So there are books about me? Like the one I saw in my cousin's room?"
"I didn't see a book about you in his room when I went there to collect your things," said Jaana with an angry glint in her eye as she remembered the encounter with the boy's relatives… and finding out that Harry had no 'things' to collect whatsoever, "why would those despicable muggles have a book about a wizard anyway?"
"I found a book there, a big one with a leather cover that was titled, 'The Life of Harry James Potter.' I didn't know it at the time… I thought it was a prank that my cousin was going to play on me."
"Well, you were holding a book when I found you in the nurse's office at school, but… hey, how did you get in there anyway? The school, and the office for that matter, was locked when we left that night."
"I was in your office?" asked Harry with genuine surprise, "I have no idea how I got there. Do you still have that book? I'd like to read it."
"Well, yes, I kept the book," said Jaana as she walked to a nearby rolltop desk and picked up the book, "But it has nothing written in it… it's entirely blank."
She handed the book to Harry.
"It's not blank, it says right here, 'The Life of Harry James Potter' right on the cover." Harry briefly leafed through the pages, seeing each sheet filled with heavily slanted handwriting, hand-drawn diagrams and maps, lists of strange words, and what looked like detailed cooking recipes, although a brief glance at some of the ingredients told him he wouldn't want to eat anything that resulted from those instructions.
"That's odd…" said Jaana as she watched over his shoulder while he read out loud a few short snippets from different pages in the book, "it looks completely blank to me."
Harry flipped the pages back to see the very first page. His mouth hung open wordlessly as he stared disbelievingly at the first words written in that book…
"The Life of Harry James Potter"
"Written by Harry James Potter"
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