Disclaimer: I own nothing of the 'Harry Potter' universe. I make no money writing this stuff.
A/N: Here's another karmic chapter where Harry plans one thing, but gets sidetracked into doing something he didn't expect. You are all probably becoming aware that maybe Harry's actions and attitude aren't entirely dictated by him alone. This phenomenon will become even more apparent in future chappies, but for now, just sit back and enjoy! (This is the largest 'main' chapter yet! Well over 4000 words!)
--
Chapter 15: A Death and a Rebirth
From The Life of Harry James Potter – Excerpt from Chapter 11: The Fall of Wizarding Britain
One of the hardest times for me was just after the destruction of Godric's Hollow at the hands of the Death Eaters. I had mixed feelings about the loss of my ancestral home… it was the place where my parents had lived, but it was also where Ginny and I had lived through our tumultuous marriage. In retrospect, it was probably good to have those memories wiped off the map, but at the time I couldn't quite see it that way.
I was left homeless and on the run. I had no one to turn to… both Ron and Hermione were dead, as were most of the friends that I had gained since beginning Hogwarts. That was when I happened across the batty old squib, Arabella Figg, sifting through the ruins that were once Diagon Alley along with the other survivors of the Muggle War. Although the Alley was in ruins, it was still hidden from the muggles.
Arabella was very old, nearly blind, could barely walk, and was in the throes of dementia, but she was coherent enough to lament to me about how she was unable to get to her family home on the Isle of Wight off the southern coast of Great Britain. Nobody but her knew of the existence of the old estate since her last living relative, a niece named Jaana Figg, was murdered years before during the Purity War where the half-bloods, muggleborns, and squibs, along with their families, were being hunted and slaughtered like animals.
I decided to take her there in hopes of finding a place to recover from the battle at Godric's Hollow. We had to travel overland using muggle transportation because the remaining Death Eaters, who were by then in control of the Ministry's monitors, were tracking and investigating all magical travel.
We had finally made it to the magnificent mansion, but not even a week after arriving, old Mrs. Figg passed away, leaving me her estate. It proved to be an ideal headquarters for me since it already had many of the standard magic cloaking wards left over from the War of the Sexes and the Purity War. With it's unplottability and remoteness, it has remained entirely unknown by the dark forces, even to this day. At first, I was uncomfortable in the mansion, seeing that it was being haunted by the particularly mischievous ghost of Arabella's niece, and I initially planned on banishing the restless spirit, but her wit and cleverness reminded me so much of Hermione that I never had the heart to even try.
Fortunately, it didn't take long for me to feel that it was truly my home when she became comfortable with my presence within her domain… after all, I was the great Harry Potter, and she was alive during those years when the wizarding populace was enamored with 'The Boy Who Lived.'
I would like you to do a personal favor for me… well, 'us,' really. As you are reading this, Jaana is still alive, living in a small flat in the south of London near her job at St. Mungo's Hospital. When the Death Eaters took over Hogwarts, they seized the records of former students, which made it easier for them to track down the muggleborns and half-bloods that had attended the school. Since Arabella's family seemed prone to produce squibs, they went after them and their ilk with extreme prejudice. Jaana was murdered in her sleep during the winter of what would have been your seventh year at Hogwarts, about when Hermione and I spent months camping out in an enchanted tent in the English countryside. If you cannot stop the Purity War from occurring, warn her about the things to come, if you can. She's a bright girl, and very aware of the bigotry that is rife within the pureblood magical community, even being a pureblood herself. She will believe you, and her life is worth saving.
--
Sunday, July 4th, 1989 7:20 PM
Harry stared out through the small window of the old stable behind The Gables that Jaana and he were hiding in for the past few days. The small stable was just far enough away from the main house to be outside of the Ministry's magical monitors, but even so, they had refrained from using any magic at all… just to be safe.
He watched as the sun slowly made its way down towards the horizon. There was at least another two hours until night fell. Two hours until he would remove another threat from the wizarding world's future. He had tracked down the whereabouts of Walden McNair, a Death Eater who had escaped justice by claiming that the Imperious curse was placed upon him, forcing him to do Voldemort's bidding. He was currently working at the Ministry, of all places, disposing of renegade magical creatures. He was due to perform an execution on a rogue vampire at midnight in Wales… and Harry planned to be there.
He tore his eyes away from the horizon to glance at his guardian who had just begun peacefully sleeping on a pile of straw in one of the nearby stalls. Once he was sure she was fully asleep, he silently walked to the pile of bags and boxes that Jaana and Cooley had taken from their home in Iceland. He quietly opened his trunk, withdrew his wand and a small paper bag, and then closed the lid with a barely audible click.
Harry took another look at the motionless form of Jaana before he turned to look back out through the window, but at the last instant he heard a distant pop of an incoming apparition from the direction of the main house. He quickly tucked the bag into his pocket and silently called for Wynmae, who appeared a moment later in her vaporous form, hovering in front of his face.
"Someone's coming," whispered Harry, "get inside me."
Harry closed his eyes and inhaled deeply, drawing the cloud of mist in with his breath. He felt that suffocating sensation that always caused a near panic attack as she entered his body. It felt as if his lungs were frozen into immobility, making it impossible to either inhale or exhale as the odd feeling of icy water flowing through his veins spread to every part of his body. His skin briefly took on a bluish, ashen quality before the feeling faded entirely, leaving only a trace of stiffness in his joints.
Once Harry could breathe again, he walked towards the doorway to the stable with his wand in his hand. He peered out through the doorway, and his grip tightened on his wand as he caught sight of a single figure hastening down the path that lead from the back yard of The Gables. His grip on his wand relaxed and he calmly slipped it into his pocket as he recognized the tall black man approaching the stable.
"Harry!" gasped Cooley as he neared the door, "Where's Jaana?"
"Sleeping," he replied as he emotionlessly pointed to the back of the stable.
Cooley brushed past him and rushed to the rear stalls.
"Jaana, wake up!" said Cooley loudly as he gently shook her shoulder.
"Hmm? What?" mumbled Jaana sleepily before her eyes popped open in alarm and she looked up into Cooley's concerned face, "What's going on? Is the Ministry…"
"You have to come wit me," said Cooley quickly, "It's Serene… she's at St. Mungo's, and…"
Jaana's eyes widened, "Gram? What happened?"
"Your Aunt Arabella found her unconscious at her house. We tink she had a stroke… She's conscious, but she's not doing too good," explained Cooley as Jaana got up and wrapped a cloak around herself, "I figured that you'd want to be dere."
"Of course," said Jaana quickly, but paused and looked at Harry, "We can't leave Harry alone here… can you stay with him?"
"I've got to get back," said Cooley, "We'll just have to bring him along with us."
Cooley walked up to Harry and drew his wand, "This will feel strange, but it won't hurt you."
As Cooley passed his wand over Harry, a rippling wave of magic descended down around him. Harry felt a tingling sensation all down his body, but when it was over, he felt no different.
"Dere," said Cooley with a nod, "Now, try your best to keep your scar covered wit your hair and nobody should recognize you."
Harry instinctively reached up to flatten his hair over his forehead, but froze as his hand passed in front of his face. His eyes traveled from his hand and up his arms, seeing that his skin was a deep chocolate-brown color.
"I would try to pass you off as a visiting nephew or someting, but I know you could never pull off the accent… just try to remain quiet and inconspicuous and nobody should ask questions."
Ten minutes later, Harry found himself sitting alone in a corner booth in the tea room at St. Mungo's Hospital. He was quietly nursing a pumpkin juice and trying to remain as invisible as possible, which wasn't too hard for him to do as he had years of practice while he was with the Dursleys. He was staring down into the opaque orange-coloured liquid when he heard a small voice from right beside him.
"Do you mind if I sit here?" a rather portly, brown-haired boy who looked to be about his own age asked meekly, "all the other booths are full, and you're alone… It's okay if you don't want me here, I just thought…"
"It's alright," said Harry as he glanced around the crowded room, "You can sit here."
"Thanks," said the boy as he slid into the opposite seat.
Harry just stared at his pumpkin juice for several minutes, all the while feeling the eyes of the other boy on him. After a minute, Harry looked up.
"What?" he asked calmly.
"Well," said the other boy cautiously, "I couldn't help but to notice your eyes. Not many black chaps have eyes as green as yours… not that it's a bad thing… it's just uncommon, I suppose... Is your family from the continent?"
"Jamaica," answered Harry shortly, really not wanting to have an extended conversation with the other boy… but the stout lad sitting across from him, while appearing to be a normally shy kid, seemed to be in a talkative mood.
"I'm Neville," said the boy as he reached his hand across the table. Harry could tell by the boy's demeanor that he was purposely trying to appear upbeat to hide the fact that he was somewhat depressed. He wasn't sure how he knew that… he just assumed it was because of Wynmae's presence within him. She could always seem to read others' emotions.
Harry reluctantly took the other boy's hand and shook it as he simply replied, "Harry."
"Are you visiting someone here?" asked Neville.
"Not really," answered Harry in a bored tone, "my uncle is a healer here and was called in for an emergency so he had to bring me along. How about you?"
Harry noticed the brief flash of anguish on the boy's face before he regained his composed expression and answered, "I've just been to visit my mum and dad."
Something clicked in Harry's head. He remembered reading about a Neville in his book… his friend who would destroy what was thought to be Voldemort's last horcrux in the final days of the Purity War. Nagini did indeed turn out to be the sixth horcrux… nobody at that time knew that Voldemort had created a secret, seventh horcrux.
"Your last name is Longbottom, right?" asked Harry casually.
The boy looked at Harry suspiciously for a moment before replying, "Yeah… how did you know?"
Thinking quickly, Harry had only paused for an instant before saying, "As I said, my uncle is a healer here and he has talked about a few of his patients. The Longbottoms are the only husband and wife patients here that I know of… I just assumed that they were your parents."
"Yeah," said Neville as he looked down at the table, clearly buying what Harry had said, "What about you? Are you just visiting your uncle or do you live here in England? What's it like in Jamaica?"
Harry recognized that Neville was trying to steer the subject away from his parents, but something inside him made him ignore the boy's question. Without really knowing why, Harry asked, "Can we go see them?"
Neville seemed quite taken aback by the request and didn't respond immediately. After a long moment, he looked up from the table, "I… I've just been to see them, and…" It looked as though he were about to say one thing, but seemed to immediately change his mind as his eyes met Harry's.
"Sure," said Neville, who immediately looked surprised that he had just agreed to bring this small black boy, this virtual stranger, to see his incapacitated parents.
Harry silently followed behind the boy as he tried to recall what details were written about him in his book. He seemed to remember reading that he was one of the six who enters the ministry the night his godfather would die. He also recalled that Neville himself would die during the War of the Sexes as he helped his older self attempt to find the missing horcrux.
They navigated the halls until they arrived at the long-term care ward. Neville paused and looked unsurely back at Harry before he pushed the door open.
A single healer was at the desk and looked up as the pair entered. She gave Neville a kind smile and said, "Visiting hours are almost over… don't stay too long, okay?"
Neville shyly lowered his head and nodded as he led Harry down the corridor to his parents' ward room. Neville stopped short as he entered the room when he saw a man standing just beside the doorway staring at a flower vase sitting on a nightstand. Harry assumed that it was a gift that Neville had just brought his parents.
"Hello, dad," said Neville softly, "I brought you a visitor."
Neville's father didn't react. He continued to stare blankly at the flowers in the vase.
Harry, however, wasn't looking at the boy's father, but at his mother sleeping in a nearby bed.
"They've both been like this as long as I can remember. The healers say that there's no hope for…"
Neville abruptly went silent as he noticed that Harry was standing beside his mother's bed, leaning down over her face. For a moment, he thought that the strange black boy was going to kiss his mother. His eyes widened and his mouth dropped open when the boy actually lowered his head and placed his lips upon his mother's.
--
Harry closed his eyes and placed his lips onto the sleeping woman's mouth. He felt the icy tingling in his throat as Wynmae's essence stretched from inside of him and entered the woman's throat, effectively connecting them together. He briefly wondered why Wynmae compelled him to do what he was doing, but he somehow knew that he had to let her try to help the woman.
Harry suddenly felt as though he had no body, similar to the way he felt when Wynmae had morphed him into her gaseous form. He opened his eyes and was surprised to find that he was standing in what appeared to be a very dark, very large room… so large that he was unable to make out any walls or even a ceiling.
Harry then noticed a figure sitting motionless on the floor a few yards away. In the darkness, it was difficult to determine who this person was, but as he approached the figure he saw that it was the woman who was sleeping in the bed, only much younger. The woman was just sitting naked on the floor with her knees hunched up in front of her and her face buried in her hands
"Mrs. Longbottom?" asked Harry quietly.
The woman visibly stiffened, then slowly pulled her hands from her face and looked up at him.
"Who are you?" the woman said.
"My name is Harry Potter," answered Harry.
The expression on the woman's face dropped, but then a sad, resigned smile creased her lips as she said, "Ah, so I really am dead. Why has it taken so long to come take me? Will you take me to see Frank now?"
"You aren't dead," said Harry calmly, "you're just asleep."
"Of course I'm dead," snapped Alice in a slightly annoyed, matter-of-fact tone, "and so are you. Just before those Death Eaters… killed me, they had said that the Potters… all of the Potters… were killed by… You-Know-Who… just before he disappeared. If you really are Harry Potter, then you're dead."
"I'm not dead," said Harry calmly, "and neither are you. You're in St. Mungo's hospital… and so is your husband."
"I don't understand…" mumbled Alice, "I'm in St. Mungo's? What happened to us?"
"I really don't know," answered Harry, "I'm here with your son, Neville. He brought me to visit you, and I…"
"Neville?" whispered Alice as her brow creased in concentration. After a moment her eyes widened and she jumped to her feet, "Neville! My baby! How could I have forgotten him? Wait… he brought you to see me? How long have I been here?"
"I'm not quite sure, exactly," said Harry, "Maybe about seven or eight years."
"Eight years!" moaned Alice as she sank to her knees and buried her face in her hands again.
Harry heard a sob escape the woman's throat. After a few moments, Alice looked up at Harry and said, "Where are we? I mean, what is this place?"
"The best I can figure is that we're in your mind."
"Well, how do I get out? Which way did you come in?"
Harry looked around at the surrounding darkness and shrugged, "I dunno… Wynmae brought me here."
Before Alice could ask who Wynmae was, Harry called out, "Wynmae? Are you here?"
A tall, pale figure emerged from the darkness behind Alice. Wynmae still sported her snowflake-like wings and her silvery-blonde hair… and, as was usual for her, she was just as naked as Alice was. Harry was surprised to see that she wasn't her normal tiny size, but resembled a fully grown woman.
"I am," Wynmae simply answered in her airy, tinkling voice.
Alice spun around on the floor and saw the beautiful, pixieish woman walking towards her. She gasped when she saw that Wynmae didn't have a stitch of clothing on. She then seemed to come to the realization that she, herself, was equally unadorned with clothing. Alice let out an 'Eep' and immediately covered herself the best that she could with her arms.
Harry was too used to seeing Wynmae's unclothed form to be fazed by either of their nakedness. In fact, he was somewhat amused by Alice's embarrassment.
"Wynmae, can you make Mrs. Longbottom here better again?" asked Harry hopefully, "You always seem to be able to heal me, after all."
"That is reason for being here," answered Wynmae in her usual disaffected tone, "Take the hand of the Longbottom."
Harry walked up to Alice and held his hand out to her. Alice looked at the offered hand, then up into Harry's eyes.
"I'm ready," said Alice as she reached for Harry's hand, "Please take me home."
When Harry took the woman's hand, Wynmae walked up and wrapped her arms around the both of them. Harry saw her wings spread out and fold themselves around the huddled group. Instantly, everything around him became totally dark as the familiar icy chill swelled within him. He couldn't breathe, feeling as if his lungs were frozen solid.
--
Harry was then vaguely aware of a distant, angry voice saying "Hey! What do you think you're doing to my mum?"
Harry opened his eyes and found himself looking into a pair of clear, green-hazel eyes. His lips were still pressed against the lips of the woman lying in the bed, although he couldn't quite fathom why he was kissing her. He jumped back, only to have his shirt roughly grabbed by the boy who made it across the ward in seemingly no time at all.
"Leave my mother alone!" cried Neville as he pushed Harry up against the nearby window.
"Neville?"
Neville froze with his hands still tangled in Harry's shirt. His eyes widened and his grip loosened as he turned to face the voice that sounded grainy and hoarse from disuse.
Alice Longbottom was sitting up in her bed and looking disbelievingly at the two boys.
"I'm pretty sure that you're not my son," said Alice as she nodded at Harry.
Harry happened to notice that she wasn't looking him directly in the eye. He instinctively reached up and flattened down the hair on his forehead when he realized that she was looking at the small portion of his scar that was peeking through his hair.
She just smiled at him and winked before her tearing eyes focused on Neville's as she said, "So, you must be Neville. My, you've gotten so big. Care to give your mum a hug?"
"Mum?" croaked Neville as he released Harry's shirt.
Alice just smiled and held out her arms.
"MUM!" yelled Neville as he launched himself at his mother, "You're talking! You know who I am!"
"Oh, Neville," sobbed Alice as she hugged her boy tightly, "I'm so sorry!"
Harry looked away from the crying mother and son and his eyes drifted to the other man in the room who was still staring blankly at the flower vase, totally oblivious to the moment that was happening just behind him. The feeling that he was getting from within him told him that he had to do for Neville's father what he had done for his mother. He walked up to the man, grabbed hold of the front of his pyjama shirt, and gently pulled down until he was face to face with the nearly catatonic man.
Harry closed his eyes and gently placed his lips upon the older man's. The paralyzing chill once again rose from his aching lungs, through his throat, stretched out through his mouth and down the man's throat.
--
Sunday, July 4th, 1989 9:47 PM
Harry was sitting back in the tea room. He had left the crying and hugging family after Neville's grandmother had arrived a few moments after Frank Longbottom loudly and energetically heralded his return to sanity and his family. Harry thought it strange that the old woman didn't appear to be as happy as he would have expected, although she did join the rest of the family in their group hug just before he left unnoticed.
He had only been back in the tea room for a few minutes before a very morose looking Cooley was leading Jaana through the doorway. Harry stood up from the bench as they approached him. Just by the look on Jaana's face, he knew that her grandmother had just passed away. Her eyes were red and swollen, her cheeks were flushed and tear stained, and she was leaning against Cooley as if she would collapse if he let go of her arm.
"Come on, Harry, it's time to go," said Cooley softly.
Harry just nodded and followed the pair out into the hallway. He had the strange notion that he might have been able to help Jaana's grandmother in the same way as he had helped the Longbottoms. He felt a tinge of anger at Wynmae for not giving him that option. He would have much rather saved Jaana from the heartache that she was now enduring than that virtually unknown family… He would have to have a little chat with Wynmae the next time that they were alone.
--
Sunday, July 4th, 1989 9:53 PM
The door to the tea room burst open and a pudgy, brown-haired lad rushed in and nearly knocked over an elderly healer carrying a tray of food.
"You should know better than to run in a hospital, young man!" scolded the healer as she hovered the laden tray a few inches above the floor.
"I'm sorry," panted Neville as he scanned the room, "I need to find… ah, a friend of mine… a skinny black boy with these weird green eyes…"
I noticed him leave a few minutes ago with a healer and a young lady," commented the woman as she straightened out the plates on the levitating tray, "You just missed them."
"Sorry again," said Neville as he turned around and stood in the doorway. He quickly scanned the hall in each direction, but there was nobody there aside from the scurrying healers and shuffling patients.
Neville sighed and began walking back to the Long-Term Care ward. He couldn't believe that it was actually Harry Potter who had healed his parents. He thought that his father was either joking or having a relapse when he mentioned that it was Harry Potter who led him back, but when his mother said the same thing, and mentioned that she saw the lightning bolt shaped scar on the boy's forehead… well, he believed them, but still wanted to see for himself.
If it actually was the Harry Potter, it was big news. It was all over the wizarding press how he had disappeared from his muggle home well over a year before. He then decided that if Harry Potter wanted to remain missing, who was he to squeal on him? He probably had a good reason, and, after all, he had saved his parents. He owed the boy that much.
Neville pushed the door open and sat in a chair as a battalion of healers rushed to and fro, poking and prodding his parents as they sat side by side on a bed… just smiling and holding hands.
--