Living Again

Summary: 20 years after the fall of Voldemort, something extraordinary happens. Nymphadora and Remus Lupin, Sirius Black, and Lily and James Potter return to life. Can they catch up with what they missed in the years since they died? And can they help Harry to move on from the death of his daughter? Non-Epilogue compliant. Set in a parallel world to my other fic Heiress of Slytherin.

Rating: T for potential language and violence.

Chapter 2: Madness of a Grieving Father

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The next day dawned warm and bright, but inside his private ward a St. Mungos, Harry was unaware of this fact. It was a small room with dull, blue walls that were supposed to inspire calm for the patient. Harry hated it, but then, Harry hated just about everything, so that wasn't really saying much. He hadn't slept last night. The healers had been acting suspiciously the day before, and Harry had taken it as an ominous sign. The healers always acted suspiciously just before they got his "wife" to sign for a new "treatment". He hated the idea of having that "woman" in charge of his welfare. In fact the thought disgusted him, and he suddenly felt ill to his stomach.

"It could be worse," a little voice in the back of his mind reminded him, "You did commit murder, you know. They could have put you in Azkaban with all those nasty dementors. At least here, you can keep your own mind…most of the time."

"SHUT UP, you idiot," another voice growled, "They killed my baby before I killed them. They got what they deserved, the murdering, backstabbing…"

"Ron may have deserved it," the first voice argued, "but Rita was only doing her job. Granted, she said awful things, but did she really deserve…"

"YES!" cut in the second, "If it wasn't for her and her damned acid quill, no one would ever have known…she was eleven years old for Merlin's sake," the voice broke down in tears, "She never hurt anyone. She never could have hurt anyone. I was her father. ME. Why should it matter who she was born to? Why should it matter? She never even knew them. She…" The tirade in his mind was interupted as a knock sounded at the ward door.

Harry shook his head and tried to ignore the voices as they resumed their discussion. After 9 years of living with these voices repeating the same things on a daily basis, that had become an accomplishable feat, but some days Harry simply did not care and allowed the voices free reign. That was why he was here, he knew. The healers would not risk releasing him until they were sure that the voices were gone, or until at least, they could be sure that he would not listen to them. Today, Harry decided, he did not want to listen to the voices. He would "engage" in his therapy sessions and prove to the healers that they did not need to change him to a new "treatment". He hated it when they did that. He always felt numb for weeks on end when they started a new potion or spell. He liked the one they were giving him now and so resolved to keeping himself on it.

Hastily, he wiped the tears from his face and tried to look agreeable. As he did so, Nurse Smythe came in with his morning medications beaming in that unnatural way of hers and humming a little tune. "Good Morning, Harry. Did you sleep well? That's good. Me too. Here you go sweety, you know the drill." Harry resisted rolling his eyes as he took the potions from her and downed them. He hated Nurse Smythe. She was unnaturally cheerful…and she talked too fast never waiting for a response. It annoyed him. "You've got a big day today," she exclaimed brightly, "Healer Ohura will be in soon to talk to you about it. Oh, I'm so excited for you." Patting him on the head, she bustled her way out of the room just as quickly as she had come.

Harry snorted in disgust. So, they were going to switch his meds. "A big day" indeed. Already, he could feel that something was different. His mind was fuzzy and he felt lethargic. A sedative, he decided. There was no sense fighting it, and so he allowed himself to drift off into sleep. A light shining into his eyes woke him not long after. He blinked blearily as he tried to gain control of his rational thought processes.

"Good Morning, Mr. Potter," he heard a voice say, "You're going to feel a bit disoriented for a little while."

"You think," he thought but was unable to voice this aloud. The voice sounded familiar. Looking towards it, he realized that the voice looked familiar too. Healer Ohura, his mind finally connected. Meanwhile, the voice kept talking.

"Something has happened at the ministry. I'm not sure of the details, but your presence has been requested. I'll be escorting you there personally, Mr. Potter, and Blake, Matthews, Stewart, Levine, and Duckett will be coming along as well. You're not in trouble, so don't worry about that. They just want your opinion on something that happened yesterday afternoon."

Healer Ohura was a kind woman, one of the few people Harry held any sort of like for at all. She was fair and always listened to his views before passing judgment on an action. The other healers simply sedated him when he got on their nerves. Ohura actually seemed to care, and for that reason alone, Harry respected her. The information that he was going to the ministry slowly leaked through to his awareness. This information should make him feel something, he knew, but he was unable to pinpoint what he should feel. After a few moments, he gave up trying and allowed the team of healers to prepare him for his journey.

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AN: Okay… for real this time…the ministry scene will be in the next chapter. I just decided to throw in a chapter setting up Harry's mindset and situation first. Let me know what you think. ^_^