A/N: HEY PEOPLE!! on hands and knees (begging) I´M SO SORRY I HAVEN'T UPDATED IN SOOOO LONG. ( I HATE writer's block, by the way…)

I finished reading "Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows"… in three days!!…. I absolutely loved it!!!

Anyway, I promised myself I would finish this fanfic no matter what, so here it goes…. I hope you like it.

Key:

"……" speech

…stuff…: thoughts or mental monologues

# Parseltongue or beast speech#

Stuff…written stuff

IT'S SHOWTIME!!!!

"What a Hero Needs"

Chapter #5: A Lending Hand (part 2)

Previously…

It was a beautiful day outside. Too bad a certain Headmaster wouldn't be able to enjoy it. Who ever said a very pretty red-headed ghost couldn't give one of the greatest wizards of the time a proper dressing-down?

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Harry gaped at the spot where his mother had been standing an instant ago, muttering something that sounded like "meddling old goatish chess player", only for her to reappear seconds later wearing a satisfied smirk.

James recovered from his shock and said, "Harry, the Coming of Age is one of the most important experiences in any witch's or wizard's life. Dumbledore should have told you about it the day you heard our will—

"Will? What will?" Harry interrupted, clearly confused as to what his father was talking about.

Mr. and Mrs. Potter now looked not only furious; they looked downright hurt and indignant, but their features softened as they gazed at their beloved son. Lily's eyes shined with unshed tears, "Oh, my baby boy, you were supposed to have been read our will on your 11th birthday…" she paused as her only child began muttering curses under his breathe. Whether or not he realized it, Harry James Potter had already become a very handsome young man. Perhaps even more so than his father, he's certainly going to break some hearts this year, Lily thought. Her son had had his growth stunted by her so-called sister, but that would soon be fixed. Harry's hair had grown but kept its untidiness (or, as all girls called it, devil-may-care hair-do) and his body had finally lost its awkward stage. All those years of running from Dudley and his gang, of doing every chore in the Dursley residence and playing Quidditch had paid off; all that even before his Coming.

James took up where his wife had left off, "It seems that the Headmaster didn't pay any heed to our last wishes. He was in charge of explaining everything to you, but apparently he has already begun to do things for the greater good," sarcasm was clearly evident in Potter Senior's voice, "In doing so, he started seeing people as chess pieces or, in your case, as the ultimate weapon or scapegoat." Harry scowled at this, "And I realized that too late," he mumbled, "So… What IS the Coming of Age?" he asked curiously.

The ex-convict answered in a teacher-like voice so unlike his own, that Harry had to bite his cheek to stop himself from snickering, "The Coming of Age is the process that every witch and wizard goes through when the blocks parents or Aurors place on a baby for their protection fall down. This happens when a witch's or wizard's power reaches its peak, or as some say, reaches maturity. Most of the time, the Coming happens when the wizard (or witch) is around 25 to 30 years old. The younger the one involved is, the more powerful they become. People say Merlin's Coming happened when he was seventeen going on eighteen and Dumbledore's and Riddle's at 20—"

Harry's eyes widened and his jaw almost hit the floor. He stared at his parents and godfather, expecting his father and godfather (being the pranksters they were) to yell 'April's Fool!'… But they didn't, nor were they going to.

"B—but, I'm just Harry," he stuttered, "H—how can it be?" His family smiled at him proudly and, much to their amusement, he groaned "Why can't I ever be normal?"

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Anya took the cloth she had placed on the young man's burning forehead and soaked it with cool water in a bowl she has placed on the bedside table. She bit her lower lip worriedly. It had been three weeks since Harry had fallen into a coma and he only seemed to get worse.

'Reminds me of Daniel's Coming, but these seems much worse. Plus, he still needs to heal from his injuries. Oh God, please let him be alright…He is too young…' The frown marring her beautiful face deepened. When she had seen the results from the diagnosis, to say she had been shocked would be the understatement of the century. She had been appalled. Not only did the raven haired teen have wounds from the battle, but even before that, Harry had injuries all over his body, all in different stages of healing. The worst part of it was that he had not received any treatment and most of them were in risk of being infected. Daniel had told her— still dazed after seeing the way Harry fought on his own— all about the battle at Privet Drive and Anya was amazed at the fact that such a spirited young man had held on his own against three of the best trained Death Eaters despite being undernourished and wounded at the time and survived.

Realizing that his stomach would reject anything he ate due to starvation, she had prepared a very large batch of her Nourishment Potion and injected it through I.V. twice a day. This was in hopes of being able to really feed him (fatten him really) as soon as he woke up. That seemed to be working, at least.

Her musings were interrupted when the door was knocked.

She turned around as two familiar heads peeked through the semi-opened double doors and smiled gently while pressing a finger to her mouth, indicating that they could enter quietly.

"How is he doing?" Daniel asked as he watched her tend to Harry's wounds. His sister sighed, "Not good," she replied as she changed the bloody bandages wrapped around her patient's chest and abdomen for clean ones. "Some of his wounds, such as the broken arm and twisted ankle, were easily healed. The bruises he sported throughout his body are already healed too. Unfortunately, I had to remove and re-grow all the bones in his right hand because they were shattered beyond healing and his chest, back and legs are still full of lacerations in various stages of healing. Those could also be healed if it weren't for the fact that his body seems to reject any treatment. It's as if he were surrounded by a shield of some kind."

"Isn't his magic supposed to help along with the healing?" asked Meg, "I mean, isn't that why magical people can endure more pain than the non-magical?"

"Yes," the nurse said, "And that is what's worrying me. His magical reserves were depleted and Harry has not recovered from it yet, so all we will have to wait—"

"But— I mean—He's been unconscious for nearly a month and his wi—"

"I know that, Dan. He must be there, but there's nothing more I can do. He'll have to wake up on his own."

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Meanwhile, in the Burrow…

They say that red hair means temper, right? Well, that could not be denied for a certain Molly Weasley at the moment.

"WHAT?! WHAT DO YOU MEAN GONE?! YOU WERE SUPPOSED TO TAKE CARE OF HIM!"

Albus Dumbledore stared wide-eyed at the Weasley matriarch, speechless. He had never thought of the real closeness between the family and the raven-haired boy they had taken in five years before to please one of their children. He once again wondered why Harry Potter was more than just a name to these people…

As the headmaster contemplated his actions, he never realized that he was not alone in the kitchen any more. The rest of the usually kind woman's family had joined the matronly lady and the wizened wizard and they were also staring in amazement. No one had ever pictured Molly Weasley raging at the Albus Dumbledore.

"You know what, Albus?" Molly said grim-faced, "If you really think he'll be fine, then you really haven't paid him any heed. You really don't know what he's gone through… And, no, I DON'T mean just at Hogwarts." She added as she saw him open his mouth to protest (politely, of course).

The old wizard stared, befuddled.

The plump witch straightened. " So, you give me no other choice, Albus…" her voice turned steel-cold, "I, Molly Anne Weasley, therefore ban Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore from entering the Burrow until he has proven himself to have taken complete responsibility of his actions concerning one Harry James Potter. So spoken, so mote it be."

As soon as Molly Weasley's last words left her lips, Albus Dumbledore found himself dropping on top of his desk at Howarts in a rather undignified manner, a shocked look still etched on his wizened face.