Ch. 7

Harry woke up groggy. Something passed into his field of vision. "Hey, red string!" He made a grab for it, but it jerked away.

"Oh…thank goodness, he's awake now!" Ginny called. A Healer rushed over.

Harry tried to sit up, then fell back against his pillow, wincing at his aching head and back. Though he was by no means old—barely 20—he could no longer tolerate boatloads of physical pain quite as well as he had at Hogwarts.

"D'you remember what happened?" Ginny asked.

"Yeah…" he mumbled. His eyes widened. "The Nox have a plan! They're…"

Another female voice filled him in. "Proudfoot alerted the Minister, Harry." It was Hermione. She tried to give him a smile, but it looked none too good, given the unnaturally pale complexion of her face.

"How—how long have I been here?"

"About twelve hours," answered Ginny.

"They think you got hit by that curse that Dolohov used on me in the Department of Mysteries, based on your injuries, but it must have been a more powerful version of that spell," Hermione added, her voice shaking. "We couldn't believe you were out of it for so long, even before the Healers gave you a dreamless sleep potion…"

Ron wrapped his arm round Hermione's shoulder, and she hugged him tightly. "We were worried about you, mate," he stated simply.

Harry appreciated his friends being there, but he still had one concern to voice. "How'd I get to St. Mungo's? I doubt Side Along Apparition would've been a good idea with me being, y'know, unconscious."

Hermione gave a real smile at the flippant remark—it was so very "Harry." "Well, Proudfoot said he managed to get you to the Muggle hospital you had visited, and they did what they could for your injury. And while it wasn't a lot, it was better than nothing. And then he used his badge to contact the other Aurors, and here we are."

"Thank God they were smart enough to use those," Harry sighed. He said what came next without thinking.

"You really are brilliant, Hermione."

Hermione and Ginny stared at Harry and Ron—they'd complimented her simultaneously.

Ron broke the tension with a joke. "Great minds think alike."

"Yeah," Harry laughed.

Healer Pye poked his head in the doorframe again—he'd been hanging back to allow the friends time to reconnect. "Now, I'm sorry, but I must insist that Harry gets some more rest," he requested kindly. After they left, the Healer shook his head. "You just can't stay out of trouble, can you, Harry?"

"I don't go looking for trouble, trouble usually finds me," Harry insisted, but he saw that the man was laughing and meant no harm by his joke.

"We've had just about every Auror come through here at least a few times…Not that I mean to worry you, Harry, but…"

"Don't worry about it, Healer Pye."

"So, think you're up for a short walk to the cafeteria? I've heard stories from Poppy about how much you detest hospital wings, so I know you'd like to get out of bed. And I can see if you'll need to be kept here any longer by how the walk goes," the Healer mentioned.

"Sure." Harry took the man's arm (his stubborn teenage streak be damned) and clambered out of bed.

"Seems a bit unfair that Muggles don't have magic to cure aches and pains." Harry groaned as they approached the stairs. "Would you mind if we took the lift?"

"Not at all," the Healer answered. "And yes, it is unfortunate for Muggles to not have things like healing potions readily available for injuries, but at the same time, they don't have to worry about the threat of magic all the time, either."

"Y'know, I'm not so sure about that." Harry regretted how terse his voice sounded, given that he was talking to the man who had healed him. Still, he'd never been the best at holding his tongue.

"Well, it's not like we can save the entire Muggle world from Dark wizards, Harry," the Healer replied, trying to keep his tone light. "After all, there are plenty of nutters in their world..." his voice trailed off, and Harry suddenly felt a jolt of Hermione-like indignation at the man's indifference. As if non-magical people weren't worth as much as witches and wizards.

When they reached the cafeteria, Harry grabbed a boxed Caesar salad. He didn't feel like staying in Healer Pye's company for much longer. "Thank you for everything, sir." He inclined his head.

"Of course, Harry. Should you need any medicine, feel free to owl or drop by."

"Thanks." With that, he disapparated.

He found Ginny at home—the others had returned to work, as they'd all visited Harry during their lunch breaks.

"Feeling better, love?" she purred as he took off his coat.

"A bit." He closed his eyes, gave her a quick hug, and sank into the comfort of their living room couch.

"So what did you find out? Or is it confidential?" she asked.

"Well, the Nex is trying to overthrow the Ministry, it seems. We don't know how much support they have, and they may be trying to gain Muggle followers."

Ginny raised her eyebrows at the end of the statement. "That's horrible!"

"I know," Harry started to say, but she cut him off.

"I mean, having to deal with dark wizards again is bad enough, but now we have to worry about Muggles attacking us, too? Ugh…I dunno if I can deal with that. I mean, what if one of them just uses one of their…metal wand things on us when we're out?"

Stirrings of frustration, similar to the ones he'd felt at St. Mungo's, rose up in Harry. "I'm not sure it's completely their fault, Gin. I'm not going to lie and say I'm not worried, but they're probably being manipulated, and the Nex already attacked a whole train load of them. And Muggles don't have magic to cure injuries like we do."

"Muggles didn't have an evil nutter trying to do them in for nearly twenty years, either," Ginny answered coolly.

"No, they just had Death Eaters randomly killing them in accidents," Harry retorted quietly. He wasn't up for yelling, and yelling at a Weasley, even if she was his girlfriend, was hardly a good idea

She touched his arm. "I'm sorry, Harry. It's just…It's hard for me to relate to Muggles, cause we're always told they're so different from us," Ginny confessed. "Like they're almost not real. And I know you are, and I just don't want you to get hurt. But I'll try to be more understanding," she promised, and gave Harry a kiss on the forehead.

"Thanks, Gin," he murmured, kissing her back. With more difficulty than he'd like to experience, he pulled himself off the couch.

"Can I get anything for you?" she asked. "Food, medicine?"

He replied, "No, I think I just need to get some regular sleep. Could you wake me up for dinner if I'm not up before then?"

She nodded. "Sure thing."

"Thanks, babe." With that, he made his way upstairs, hoping the day would improve when he woke up—or at least, not get any worse.