Chapter Eighteen: Waking Up
Hogwarts was eerie without the rush of other students long the dark corridors. Draco's footsteps tumbled down into distant echoes, rattling off cold, damp walls and chilly glass.
The gargoyle that protected the Headmaster's office would not move. Every password Draco tried was met with stony silence. He closed his eyes and took a long breath. He balanced his wand in the center of his palm and opened his eyes.
"Point me, Headmaster Dumbledore."
He followed the line of his wand through the long, quiet halls. The doors to the Infirmary parted with a creak of hinges. He heard Madam Pomfrey's voice, speaking to someone he could not see.
After the Headmaster's proposal had been defeated in the Ministry councils, Draco had not seen or heard anything from the old wizard. The dust up with Harry disappearing had been dealt with, but by all reports the inquiring press had been sent away by a curt Professor McGonagall and the Ministry fellows were silent on their meeting with the revered man, despite how much money Draco's father had thrown at the men.
"…You can't get up." Pomfrey was saying as Draco approached. He rounded the white curtains and stopped, glued in place by the sight in front of him.
The Headmaster looked ancient. The lines of the man's face were pronounced against gray skin. Draco's hand fisted around his wand. Was there another attack? What's happening?
"Mr. Malfoy!" Pomfrey's scandalized yelp snapped his attention to her.
"I need to speak to the Headmaster." He paused, giving the man a look. "It's about Severus."
"It is fine, Poppy."
"It most certainly is not." The Head Nurse set her hands on her hips and turned to the young man. "In case you are unable to comprehend what is front of your nose, the Headmaster is in no position to see anyone!"
"It is imperative."
"Poppy," the Headmaster's smile was more tired than kind. "Please. It will be all right."
"But…"
"Please, do be a dear."
Madam Pomfrey let out a long sigh. "You'll just make yourself worse."
"Everything will be fine," he smiled back at her. She shook her head, cast a withering glare at Draco and stomped off.
Draco watched her slip into her far office. "She is right, sir. You look awful."
"Why thank you, Mr. Malfoy."
He turned back to the Headmaster. "They've taken Severus to Azkaban."
Dumbledore went still and closed his eyes with a sharp, indrawn breath. "And Harry?" He asked.
"Gone. Scrimgeour told Black where he was and they used Auror's Rights to break through the wards."
"I thought your Manor would be able to keep them out."
"Not since the first time they arrested Father. We were forced to allow the Auror's Rights into our wards. With one word they can break into our home. One word," Draco forced his jaw shut and swallowed down the rest of his bitter words. "They've removed Harry to the Black Manor. No one has been able to contact them. They put Severus into Azkaban because the told Black where to shove it. He's been there for almost two days…"
The long sigh from the Headmaster stole the words from Draco's mouth. "I see, my boy. I see." Dumbledore pushed the blankets from his legs. Draco was shocked at how thin the man had become.
"Sir?"
The older man's smile was wry. "I am an old man, Draco." He sat at the edge of the bed and for once, Draco did not see him as The Headmaster, or as The Great Dumbledore, or even the hated Gryffindor sympathizer. All he saw was an old man in a small bed.
"Sir…"
"All things end, Draco." Dumbledore held out a hand to him. Draco took it, surprised by the sudden strength in the grip. Albus got to his feet, his long robes settling around him. He patted Draco's hand and smiled again. "But do not fear, Mr. Malfoy. I will not end this day. Come along, I fear I have much to do."
"But…you are not well."
"No, I am not." The man's strides were small, but quick as they crossed the floors to the hall. Pomfrey's door stayed shut behind them.
"I…" Draco scowled at the man's back as he trotted to catch up to the man's side.
"Old age is a disease none can resist," Albus' voice held a thready note that bothered Draco. "In my case, it is a disease I have been putting off for a long, long time."
"Sir?"
"Come now," they arrived at a door Draco had never seen before. "Be a good lad and call down for some tea. I would like a sip before we go."
Draco did as he was told, his head jerking back from the fire as a plate of tea and scones almost arrived right on top of him. He made a face at the fire, but took one up. The Headmaster came from his bedroom clad in a bright robe Draco recognized from years past. Before his eyes, he could see the old man pulling the act together; the bulky robes hid a thinning body. The bushy beard disguised an aging face. But the most breathtaking thing was the way the man's aura began to push out from his very core. The old man was gone and The Headmaster was back, the facade firmly in place.
"Come now, young Mr. Malfoy. I believe we have some people to save." Dumbledore drained a cup of tea in one draught.
"You'll be able to get Harry from the Black's too?" He felt a fierce flare of hope stir in his chest.
"No," the hope shattered to pieces. "That will be a battle I have no hope in winning."
"But…"
"Come, Draco. We must get Severus out of that prison." The older wizard hustled him from the rooms. He was almost running to keep up with the man. They cleared the Apparation wards of the castle faster than Draco had anticipated. The Headmaster put one hand on his shoulder and smiled, his bright eyes shining in the same way Draco had seen them shine for years on end.
But as they disappeared, Draco knew he would never forget the sight of an old man on an old, small bed in the middle of the Infirmary. It would be stay with him all through the fight at the prison, through his father's thunderous threats, through, even, Severus' grudging release.
It was a sight Draco feared would stay with him for a long, long time.
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Rufus scanned the heap of papers on his desk. In the five days since Potter's relocation, the spill of headlines had finally, finally swung to his favor. Black's contribution, along with the sworn statement of that Healer's had helped to quiet the panic that had swept through the streets since the Incident with the Unspeakables.
It would have helped to have the Potter boy's own endorsement and sworn testimony of his innocence. Black claimed that the boy was still too ill for visitors. He was supposedly cleansing the kid – by his Healer's own prescription – which made that obstacle one he would have to tackle in the near future when they let the boy wake up.
"Sir?"
He glanced at his aide. The young man was new to his campaign, but had proved himself to be tenacious, tough and scarily organized even in the most chaotic situations. Rufus was coming to rely on him more and more each day, even if he couldn't seem to remember the boy's name.
"Your two o'clock meeting is here," the young man shuffled through a handful of papers. "Economic growth in the Lancaster area and his endorsement package."
"He brought it with him?"
"No, his accountants are arranging a transfer at Gringotts."
"Good."
"Also, Auror Gest told me to tell you that he couldn't find a lead." The young man read from a small pink slip of paper. He blinked and glanced at Rufus from over the rim of his glasses. "I hope that makes sense, sir. He said nothing else."
"It's fine, thank you." The young man nodded at the dismissal and slipped from the room.
Rufus had a moment before his newest sponsor entered the room. He took a slip of paper from the locked drawer in his desk and made a notation. The whispers of revolution – at least a revolution to Rufus' mind – was making the rounds. He wanted the instigators quieted before their ideas took hold in the public mind. The last thing he needed was a debate about muggle-wizard segregation, especially before the elections.
He never noticed that his aide had left the door cracked open, or that a bright eye had made note of his paper and the drawer before vanishing down the hall.
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Harry felt like he was swimming through molasses. His body ached. A slow, dull beat had started in his head, shuddering through his bones, making even his teeth hurt.
Someone was talking to him. It sounded like Sirius – But Sirius had given him the potion – no, a warring voice whispered. Sirius loves you, you know that. He must not have known what would happen. Come on, Harry. Time to wake up, now.
It took him several tries to open his eyes. His lashes felt gummed together. The world was unfocused. A dark blotch bent over him.
"…you are, kiddo!" Sirius' cheerful shout made the ache in his head intensify.
"…wha…"
A straw was stuck into his mouth before he could finish. Water, he drew it in gratefully. But there was something…wrong with the taste.
"Come now, Harry," said a voice he didn't recognize. He drew back, blinking, from the rough, aged man on the other side of his bed. He was familiar, but…
"This is Healer Fondorn, Harry." Sirius patted his hand, making him jump. "He'll be your primary Healer from now on."
It took a moment for that to filter in. Harry's thoughts still felt a little like cotton shoved too tight into a small box. "But…Healer Fabing…"
"Is not, nor ever has been, a Healer of the body," the man tutted at him. "The Malfoys were quite wrong to take you to him. He only specializes in Dark Potions and curses! No wonder you ended up as a guinea pig to the man. I've put in for a formal inquiry to the man's practice."
"But," Harry managed before the straw was stuck back in his mouth.
"Drink it up, son," the Healer smiled at him, showing yellowed teeth.
He spit it out and turned his face away. "Healer Fabing was a fine Healer," he protested. "He was doing what he thought was right. They said they didn't have a potion to give to me because of the damage –"
"Nonsense!" The man's bark cut him off. "There is nothing wrong with you that a little time outside and some toughening up won't fix."
It was so surreal that it took Harry a moment to register his words. "But look," he held out his hand. The tremors were faint, but noticeable.
Sirius enveloped his hand with both his larger ones. "Harry," he said after exchanging a glance with Healer Fondorn. "Finish the potion, okay? It's nutrition potion."
"And that's all?" Harry spared the viscous yellow-and-orange fluid a suspicious glance.
"Yes. Now, drink up."
He gazed at Sirius for a long moment. He would never lie to me, a voice whispered. Sirius loves me. I can trust him. He took the vial from the Healer, bent the straw and tried to drink it down as fast as he could.
"Good, good…" Sirius squeezed the hand he had trapped.
"Now," the Healer stood with a sharp clap of his hands. "Let's get you up and out of bed, young man!"
Harry slurped down the last of the potion and spit out the straw. "You're kidding, right?"
"Come on, kiddo." Sirius plucked the glass from his hands and set it aside.
"But…"
"Harry."
He blinked at the unfamiliar stern tone. He glanced at the Healer, and the back at his godfather.
Something softened in the animagus' expression. "It's okay, Harry. I know you'll be weak from being asleep, but you don't have to be embarrassed. Healer Fondorn is the Black family Healer. He's known me since I was little."
Harry's pride sat up, stung. "I'm not embarrassed," he sputtered.
"See," the wrinkles were back around Sirius' eyes. "There you are."
"Huh?"
"Come on, it'll be fine. You'll see." Sirius pulled back the covers. Harry tried to snatch them back when they revealed that he was wearing nothing but his underwear.
"Sirius!"
"We're all men here, Harry. It's fine."
He glared at his godfather. "Can I please have some clothes first?"
"Nope."
"Why not!"
"Because once you're out of bed, you're walking yourself to the bath."
Harry sputtered. "Don't I get a say in this?"
"Nope."
His mouth dropped open. "You're joking."
"Nope." The same cheerfulness was there, but there was an added note of steel to the voice.
Harry closed his mouth with a snap. "Sirius I was barely able to walk at the Malfoy's. How am I supposed to jump out of bed –," he frowned. "Wait what day is it? How long have I been asleep?"
"It's Friday."
"But…" Harry gripped the sheets. "That's – five days? What did you do?"
"Harry!" Sirius drew back, the picture of hurt.
"It was for your own good, young man." Healer Fondorn rounded the end of the bed and advanced. "I put you in a spell stasis until your body was purged of those potions the Malfoys had given you."
"But –," Harry's mind scrambled to put things together. "Then it'll be too late!"
"Too late for what?"
"To stop them!"
Sirius and the Healer exchanged another glance. "Stop who, Harry?"
Harry glanced between the two men. "Can I talk to you, Sirius? Please? Just the two of us?"
Fondorn frowned and began to shake his head. Sirius spoke before the Healer could.
"That's fine. A good idea," he and the other adult locked gazes.
"I'm not sure that would be best," Fondorn stated.
"It'll be fine," Sirius guided the man to the door with some difficulty. They had a heated exchange of whispers before Sirius shut the man out of the room.
Once the Healer was gone, Harry let out a long sight of relief. "Sirius – what in the world is going on? That man –"
"Harold James Potter." His full name dropped into the space between them like a ten-ton boulder. Harry snapped his mouth shut and pulled the covers over his body a little more.
"S-Sirius?"
The animagus took a few steps towards the bed and stopped. "I have no idea," he measured out his words with obvious care. "What those Malfoys and what Snape have said to you. I have no idea what kind of nonsense they have tried to convince you with. But you. Are. Not. Sick. Do you understand?"
Something cold and heavy bloomed in the pit of Harry's stomach. "But Sirius," he tried.
"No," the man made an abrupt slicing motion through the air. "Just – no, Harry. This is the truth: Scrimgeour is on the trail of the remaining Death Eaters who are making everyone so worried. They are the people who are trying to get everyone to take to arms against you. You don't have to fight any more, Harry." The animagus ground out. "It's okay. We have you. We'll take care of everything."
"But it's not Death Eaters, Sirius! I – there's a whole other world out there, one I can see and visit and –,"
Sirius was at his side in a flash, his hands wrapped tight around Harry's shoulders. "Stop it, Harry." He punctuated his words with a shake. "The old gods may be back – fine. You and the others accomplished that. But you are no Seer into some new world. You are just Harry now, no matter what those Slytherin bastards tried to make you believe."
"But…"
"Harry." Sirius bent down so he could meet the younger wizard's eyes. "Healer Fondorn explained it to me. You're used to being the center of attention, even if you say you don't like it. But all that's over now. Voldemort is gone. The world will figure out what to do with itself without you trying to put yourself into the middle of it all."
Harry felt his face go hot, then cold. "I'm not trying to be the center of attention," he whispered.
"Then why do you keep insisting on how sick you are? These visions you say you've had?"
"But they're real!"
"Harry," another shake. "Albus told me your connection was with Voldemort. That's what the Potion did. It helped you get into his mind."
"But…"
"But he's dead." Yet another shake. Harry's headache beat at the back of his eyes. "There are no more visions, Harry. None of this sickly stuff. The potion," Sirius swallowed and his hands tightened around Harry's shoulders. "Look, Fondorn has taken a look at the potion that lingers in your system. He – he wants me to admit you to St. Mungo's for treatment."
Harry tried to draw away from the man. "No – no! They'll lock me up if they know."
"Fondorn won't say anything, Harry." Sirius soothed. "But don't you understand now? He's afraid the potion is making you – making you…unbalanced."
"But I'm not!"
"And even if the Malfoys meant well," there was rage in the animagus' eyes. "Even if they meant well, their actions did nothing but bolster the – the bad effects of the Vision Potion."
"But…"
"I don't want to do it. St. Mungo's Mental Ward is a scary place, Harry. But if he gets any more worried, I'll do it. I'm sorry, kiddo, but I love you and I'll do anything, everything to make you okay again."
A calm came down over Harry at his godfather's words. It pushed the disbelief, the panic, the hurt, all of it aside and let logic take over.
"You want to lock me up in a loony ward?" He clarified.
Sirius' expression crumpled. "Of course not, Harry!" He sat on the edge of the bed and drew a limp Harry into his arms. Harry let him.
"But you'll let that Healer take me?"
"Only if I have to."
"What do you mean?"
"This lying, Harry, has to stop."
"You think I'm lying."
"Harry…"
"What else?" He cut off the disappointed sigh.
"You have to try, kiddo. You're not sick, so stop trying to make yourself that way. We need you out of the bed, being normal." Sirius drew away, leaving one arm around thin shoulders. He chucked Harry under the chin. "You see, Harry? You'll be fine. Just let us take care of everything."
"And if I do that, you won't let that Healer take me away?"
"Harry, don't think like that! If you do everything we ask, it won't even come up!"
The calm wavered, but he held onto it with a death grip. "Right," he said it on a breathless sight. "Right," he said again, stronger. "Fine. Okay."
"Okay?"
"I'll do what you want, just don't put me away like an animal."
"Harry!" Sirius crushed him against his broad chest. "We would never do that!"
Harry curled his fingers into the new, stiff material of his godfather's shirt. "Yeah," he whispered. "I know that." His eyes remained dry, however tight his throat felt. I can do this, he promised himself. Sirius just needs to realize the truth. Once – once he sees that I'm not lying he'll hex that Healer to oblivion. You'll see, Harry. The pain in his chest spread until it became numb. You'll see. It will be fine. You can do this. You can do this. You can…
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"Come on, Harry!" Sirius sounded as frustrated as Harry felt. "It's just downstairs! You can do this!"
Washed, dried, in uncomfortably stiff clothes, Harry hung onto the rail of the staircase with both hands.
"Sirius," he began.
"You're not sick," the man hissed. "Healer Fondorn is in the hall waiting for you. I said you could do this and you will."
Harry clamped down on the first four things that came to his mind to say. "I was going to say," he tried when his temper was tied down. "That you're in my way."
Sirius stared at him for a moment, then threw his head back and laughed. "Sorry, sorry," he bounced down a few stairs. "Now, let's go!"
Harry fixed a smile on his face and nodded back at the man. He ignored the sharp, hard bite of the rail under his hands.
His legs were trembling. His head was one ball of agony that pounded along in time with his heartbeat. He wanted to go back to sleep. He wanted Draco. He wanted the whole week, the whole mess to never have happened. Instead he put one foot in front of the other and made his slow, wobbly way down the stairs.
The frustration he'd felt with his talk with Sirius had bled away into humiliation during the "bath". Sirius had refused to leave the room, saying that he had to make sure Harry did not fall. Harry had had a few suggestions for his godfather to go try, but he had kept them to himself.
The humiliation warred with annoyance at the full closet of clothes he had not picked for himself. The bedroom, with its vivid colors, hurt his sensitive eyes. He didn't care about the Quidditch posters plastered along the walls. The constant movement from all directions made him dizzier than he already was.
Sirius had chosen his outfit. Sirius had declared that he had to wear his hair, just like James! And attacked Harry with a comb. Harry was full to the damn brim of Sirius and his suggestions. And it was only the first day he'd been "awake".
He made it to the hall. He'd done what Sirius asked.
"Now, to the den," the animagus beamed at him.
"You said to the front hall," Harry pointed out. "I'm in the hall."
"And now to the den!"
"You said the hall."
"And now I said the den."
"So you lied."
"Harry," Sirius frowned at him. "Come on, now. Don't be like that. It's for your own good. You made it this far. You can make it to the den."
Harry swallowed down a very graphic description of where Sirius could put his head and glanced around.
"Harry…"
"I don't know the way."
"Oh. Oh! That's right!" Excitement lit every line of the animagus' body. "We'll give you the grand tour later!"
"Sirius…"
"This way, Harry. Come on, you can do it."
With the help of the wall, and several curio tables, he made his way into the den. Ginny and Remus were seated on a couch, large smiles stretched across their faces. Even the Healer looked pleased.
"See, young man?" Fondorn rumbled. "You're just fine."
Harry kept his eyes averted and nodded. He slumped into a stiff chair – the furthest from the Healer he could get.
"Best not to push too hard," Fondorn continued to Sirius. "I must admit, he'll be weak after that stint of stasis. But by next week I want him up and about every day. You have the rest of my instructions, of course."
"Of course. Thanks so much." Sirius pumped the man's hand. "We'll keep you up to date with his status."
"Yes, yes. And remember, if he gets worse…" The Healer waggled a finger in Harry's direction. To his horror, it seemed as though both Remus and Ginny knew about his "lying".
There was a minute more of general goodbyes before the man left. Once he was gone, Ginny jumped up from her chair and made her way to Harry. She threw herself at him, holding him tight.
"Harry, I'm so glad you're home! We have so much to tell you! There's so much to see, you just won't believe it!" He let her prattle on into his ear, nodding where appropriate. He didn't let them see the hand fisted in the scratchy material of his trousers, fingers clenched white against the fabric.
I can do this, he managed a smile and a nod from the ecstatic girl. I can do this. I can do this. I can do this….
End Chapter Eighteen