Disclaimer: Harry Potter and his world belong to J. K. Rowling.
Notes: Harry's adult children: Adam Bourne, Victoria, Margaret, James and Beth Potter. Adam Bourne (stepson. Ben Weasley is the son of Hermione and Ron. ***Non-verbal communications are shown in italics.***
Chapter 5:
Early in June, Harry attended for his routine session at Ben's practice. Healer June Hopkirk was presiding, as Ben had been offered a very desirable six months' study at a prestigious German institution. He'd been gone a month. Hermione was absent as well, doing some consulting work abroad, as she frequently did.
Adolph was again rostered to be with him, and a not quite qualified auror called Melanie, was on guard outside.
For the first time in months, there was a difficult patient. Harry was a bit puzzled when he sought to feel the spell. The symptoms were that of a skin condition that often led to problems, but the spell was confused. Harry felt a long time, and finally thought he knew what it was. More than one wizard had inflicted those spells, and maybe even, they'd been put one on top of another.
The wizard didn't know what had happened. He said that he'd suddenly found himself like this, and Harry heard his strong suspicion - that it was something to do with the married woman he'd been going with.
Harry tried his telepathic method first, but was flung out of the man's mind very quickly.
"Sorry, sorry," the man was saying, "I didn't mean to mess you up, I couldn't help it..."
Harry had stepped back, momentarily dizzy, but said, "Don't worry, lots of people can't tolerate that method, we'll try again a different way." And then he asked the man just to go back into the waiting room for a few minutes, and he'd finish the others. Harry had never tried to break interweaved spells like this before, and wasn't sure how hard it would be.
The three other patients were not the slightest problem, and Harry was not taking notice of Adolph, who had inconspicuously sent a signal to Andrew Pritchard, auror. Andrew had been a friend of Harry's, but Andrew was inefficient, and was not getting the recognition he thought he deserved. He'd been promised a promotion for this job, though.
The patient, Scot Voxner, was brought back in. Adolph and June were reminded of the feel of strong magic, but they'd both felt it before, although a while back for both of them. Harry wasn't concerned about them. He carefully warned Voxner what he would feel, but as Harry had every intention of imposing calm on the man, he wasn't concerned about his reaction, either. Dividing his magic like this was something he'd developed in the last few years, although each side effort took a little more concentration.
In a small, little used office at the Ministry of Magic, Andrew Pritchard waited, wand in hand.
Healer Hopkirk wished she could leave. She hated the feeling of an awesome power that Harry could generate. But when Harry courteously asked her if she wanted him to put the man off, and maybe call in the Ministry healer, she answered indignantly, with a quick change of mind. Did he think she would shirk her job? A mediwizard often has things to do that are not altogether pleasant!
"Everyone ready?" Harry said quietly, and he raised his wand, opened his mind to his patient, and started to concentrate. He paid no attention to June or to Adolph - his mind was concentrated on his patient and on his magic.
The gentle tingling in the air started to grow. Gradually it intensified. Adolph waited. Controlling his magic, Harry felt a spell give way, but there were more, and now he could feel them more clearly. Surely there were at least six spells, by three different wizards! The magic was at a high and impressive level, but it was still short of that which had been described to Adolph, and he still waited.
The patient was calm, and so far there had been no need for Harry to intervene to make him so. Another spell gave way, Harry could feel it, and then another.
But the next two, or even three, seemed to be interdependent, and Harry raised the level of his magic. Now the air thrummed with power, seeming to crackle, but with no actual sound, and no actual light.
Healer Hopkirk held her head - she hated this! The spells, three of them together, were on the point of breaking, Harry knew. He stood, wand raised, the centre of an awesome power, making the patient calm now, holding him steady. Nearly there.
Andrew Pritchard had his signal, apparated silently into the room, his silence a skill taught to him by his friend, Harry Potter, aimed his wand at Harry's back, and calmly made the word of the incantation, "Stupify!"
Harry fell to the floor, thrown instantly into a major epileptic fit.
"Healer Hopkirk," Adolph said commandingly, and June tore her eyes from Harry's body, convulsing violently on the floor. And Adolph ensured that June Hopkirk would not remember the presence of Andrew, or anything about a stun spell.
Andrew dealt with the patient, who was standing bewildered, uncured. Andrew disapparated.
June Hopkirk shook her head, blaming her momentary dizziness on the power that had filled the air. She went to Harry. But there was not much she could do until he stopped convulsing, and that took what seemed a very long time.
Finally, he was still - pale cheek on the carpet, blood and dribble near his mouth, trousers wet and deeply unconscious.
**x**
Three days later, voices gradually started to become more clear. They seemed to have been talking a long time, and Harry could hear the voice of Percy. "Terrible shame. Terrible shame! He was a credit to wizardry. Most unlikely to recover, according to Healer Goldsworthy."
Another voice said, "You're his brother-in-law aren't you, Mr. Weasley."
"Yes, his wife was my sister Ginny. She died quite a few years ago."
"Healer Hopkirk, is it true that he just started fitting for no reason?"
The sober voice of June answered, "Yes. It was at the height of his magic, and he just fell to the floor, and started fitting. A return to the problems he had some years ago, it seems. Healer Goldsworthy is the expert of course, seeing that Healer Granger has been held up."
Harry's eyes stayed closed, and he only looked around in his mind. His head hurt terribly, and there was a stink of treachery.
He could feel June Hopkirk, and he suddenly knew that her memory had been modified. He spoke to her in her mind, and she jumped, but was luckily silent. They modified your memory. Do you mind if I remove the spell?
He felt her assent.
Don't say a word.
He removed the memory modification spell, and Harry saw as clearly as June had, the sudden appearance of Andrew, and a stun spell that hit him in the back.
Harry closed his eyes tight in a recoil - not only Percy, but Andrew who had been his friend. Andrew who had played with him. Andrew to whom he'd told the coordinates of his hidden home! It hurt. And he had fitted again. God, how he hated to fit! And fits could do terrible damage, as he well knew. Would he still be able to walk?
June Hopkirk was staring at him, her mouth part open.
Harry opened his eyes a slit. The room seemed to be full of people, gathered close to his bed, but only June taking notice of him as they interviewed the sorrowful and concerned Minister for Magic, who had arranged for him to be attacked at that moment when he was most vulnerable - giving all his efforts to help someone else.
The reporter seemed to be finished, and the photographer moved fussily forward. "Just standing here with the healer, Mr. Weasley - yes, that's right," and Harry made the reporter jump this time.
As soon as you have the chance, speak to June Hopkirk again, quietly, without Percy or any aurors present, and now the reporter was staring at him, seeing the eyes glittering, even though only half open.
June, once you're alone, tell the reporter. Not in front of an auror or Percy, or they might do another memory modification.
Harry's head seemed to be hurting more every minute.
The photographer was still at work, "Now Mr. Weasley, can we just have a photograph of you stroking his brow. That will be most effective!"
Percy smiled and took the step to the side of the bed, but Harry was not that good at pretending, and when Percy laid a gentle hand on his brow, he said in a low and bitter voice, "You treacherous bastard!"
Percy leapt back as if he'd been stung, and now they were all staring at him, and he tried to sit up. It seemed that nothing would work, and his head pained even more.
Seeing his helplessness, Percy regained confidence. "He seems to be confused, Healer Goldsworthy. Do you think he needs to be restrained."
Healer Goldsworthy came to his side then, speaking soothingly. "It's all right, Mr. Potter. Just a little accident. You'll be fine. Just relax, we'll look after you."
Harry looked at him, and felt the healer thinking, too, that he was obviously confused. Harry thought that he might not survive if left here, and he thought longingly of home, and Will, if he needed him. But Andrew knew where his home was, and when he disapparated, lying down, from the hospital bed, it was to Sirius Black's place.
He arrived safely, lying on the floor, close to the boarded up fireplace. He looked around, knew where he was and closed his eyes. His head pained dreadfully, and he slipped back into unconsciousness.
When Harry woke next, he found himself wet, and thought that he'd probably fitted again. He had to have a shower, and managed to haul himself to his feet - it seemed he could still walk, after all. This time, when he collapsed, it was in the shower, water still streaming onto him. He'd forgotten to strip, and now lay, still in the hospital gown, half in, half out of the shower, suddenly fitting yet again, and breaking a shower screen with a flailing leg. Now there was blood as well.
Harry still had friends among the aurors, as well as friends among the wizarding population, but word had not yet spread.
It was the weekend, and it was not until Monday that the Daily Prophet featured his words as the headlines. You treacherous bastard! and showed a picture of Percy Weasley jerking his hand away, and stepping back from him in horror.
There was a full account of him being stunned as he concentrated on healing his patient, and interviews with the patient, too, who was still unable to remember anything about a stunning. June Hopkirk was staying quietly with friends. She was frightened of repercussions.
Margaret, James and Victoria were gathered at Harry's home. The grounds and house had been searched, over and over, by the family, by his workers, and by Andrew, who was known to be a friend of Harry's. Hermione was still not back, still trying to get tickets for muggle transport, but somehow she kept meeting obstructiveness. Ben had managed to make it back, though.
As Harry had planned, Sirius Black's place had been forgotten. Even his children didn't think of it straight away, and it was not until Monday morning that they found him, still half in, half out of the shower, water still pouring down on him. Vicki, Margaret and James, all of them together.
Harry didn't wake, but he was not dead, and James went to get Ben. Carefully, gently, they lifted him away from the shower cubicle, vanished the wet gown, and lay him on a bed. A gash on his calf began to sluggishly bleed again, but that problem was easy to fix. Ben made a quick and minor spell, and it was healed.
Ben had his fit monitor, and was very relieved to see that it appeared that the risk of more fitting appeared now to be slight.
Harry opened his eyes as Ben used another monitor, touching it to various parts of his head. And Harry smiled at him. "Ron," he said. "I've missed you."
"It's Ben, Harry," he said gently.
Harry's forehead creased. "Sorry, lost my glasses." But his gaze was unfocused, wandering.
"Can't kill Percy," he suddenly said, "He's your brother."
"My uncle," Ben persisted. "I am Ben, Percy is my uncle."
"Yes," said Harry vaguely, "Can't kill him."
"How do you feel, Dad?" asked Vicki.
"My head hurts."
"Do you want to go home?"
Harry agreed that he wanted to go home, but James said pressingly, "Dad, why did you come here? Why didn't you go home?"
Harry stared at him. "Had a reason - just can't remember. There was a reason." He couldn't think, his head hurt too much.
Meg, Vicki, Ben and James were deeply involved in discussion. None of them could apparate with a passenger, and Harry was obviously totally unfit to do it himself. He drifted off to sleep again, making no effort to contribute. James and the girls would look after him.
Harry had called it treachery, and they decided not to ask the aurors for help.
Margaret said finally, "Maybe we should just look after him here," but Harry, out of the blue, said, "No. I want to go home, I need Will. He's the only one who knows how to look after me."
James was looking at him frowningly. "Why did you come here, Dad? Tell me."
Harry's eyes searched the ceiling, and at last he said. "It was Andrew. And Andrew knows where I live. So I couldn't go home." And he added suddenly, "Might kill Andrew."
Meg and Vicky remembered a man they'd seen him kill when they were just small children, and Vicky said, "No, Dad. No matter what, you're not allowed to kill anyone."
Harry said, "I won't hurt him, just kill him," and Vicky stifled a giggle in spite of the seriousness of the threat, but repeated definitely that he was not to kill anyone at all.
To the relief of all his children, he finally said, "All right then. I won't kill him. Not Percy, not Andrew, not Adolph."
He thought for a while then. "Can I frighten them?"
His children agreed that when he was well enough, he was allowed to frighten them.
He was pulling himself up now, wanting to stand, but Ben was saying firmly, "Lie down, Harry. You're not well enough to get up."
Harry peered at him. "You look awfully like Ron," he said, and suddenly in his hand was a newly conjured pair of glasses, and he put them onto his face. "Not Ron, Ben," he concluded, apparently finally convinced, settled himself more comfortably in the bed and went back to sleep.
Beth appeared, making them jump. With a glance at Harry, she said, "I think, before anything else, what we should do, is go see Percy Weasley, and tell him he has to resign. All of us together, his children. Ben can wait here if he's willing, and afterward, I can take Dad home. I can apparate with a passenger, and it's only a moment, I can support him that long."
James knew Beth even less than Meg and Vicky did, but he looked at her, and thought suddenly that she was exactly like Harry. She was saying what they should do, and she was right. He stood, "Ben?"
Ben nodded. "Don't get yourself arrested, remember he's Minister for Magic!"
"Not for long!" said James grimly. "We'll frighten him, just what Dad said."
Percy already knew he was in a precarious position, and before long he was faced with two formidable witches, the young wizard who looked just liked Harry, and a young woman who gave him chills when he looked at her. The three older ones may have been his own nieces and nephew, but Percy Weasley had hurt their father, and no spluttering about misunderstandings, and Harry being obviously confused, was going to convince them otherwise.
Percy Weasley wrote out a resignation letter and handed it to Madam Bancroft, his second in command. Percy Weasley packed up his personal possessions from the office, and left. He had wanted to be Minister for Magic since he was fifteen.
The aurors had now learned what had happened to Harry. There was a commotion in the aurors' rooms, and when Adolph had walked in, earlier, he had quickly got the message that it might be best to disappear. It was Simon who'd hauled him back as he tried to exit, and given him a black eye.
Adolph was much bigger than young Simon, but felt himself the treacherous bastard the paper had said, and had not retaliated. There were hostile faces all around, and he just backed off, spun on his heel, and left. He would not be back.
Andrew did not appear, but Emil came to face them, and was subjected to some very hostile questioning, led by those who were supposed to have gone to Spain with Harry that morning, Grant, Justin, Alex, and Franz. Franz had been friends with Emil since they'd been aurors together in Germany, but now Franz was interrogating him as closely as any prisoner was interrogated.
Mr. Weasley had decided that Harry was to be restrained... they'd recently learned some things about Harry... it was too dangerous to allow him loose...
Justin and Grant had their fists balled, and they were not the only ones. Several held back, they didn't know Harry. They did know that Emil was the boss.
Emil looked around. There were more hostile faces than there were neutral ones. He made his decision, and said, with some dignity, "Very well, I will resign. Bedwin will be in charge until a new head of department is appointed," and he went and cleaned out his desk.
There was another more quiet departure. Emil's second in command had known what was planned, and thought it wise to leave also.
That afternoon, when Jebedee and Zack appeared in the apparation zone at Harry's home, they were quickly surrounded by suspicious witches and wizards, wands drawn. Harry's family had rallied behind him.
Jebedee and Zack made no hostile move, and it was only after Beth inspected them, that they were told that Harry had been found and was alive.
"Can we see him?" asked Jebedee.
"Not today," said Beth. "Maybe in a few days."
"Is he all right?" Jebedee persisted.
"We won't know for a while."
Will was needed again, and was proud to be needed. Harry was drifting in and out of consciousness, and complained frequently that his head hurt, although not again getting Ben confused with his father. He was able to walk - very dizzy and needing a helping hand, but he was able to walk. Ben was hopeful that he would recover with a little time. He wished that his mother was there, though. Hermione was now laid up with an illness, and still in Switzerland.
A vigilant watch was kept on the apparation zone, and on the gate, no longer left open. Two young security guards were hired, husband and wife, relatives of Kevin's. Beth had been present while Bill had interviewed them, and it was at Beth's nod that they were hired. And it was at Beth's nod that Mary Abercrombie, with her new husband, Tony Davenport, moved in to one of the upstairs bedrooms for a while, for Harry's better protection. Mary's young brother, too, Nicholas Abercrombie. It was only then that Beth, Jeremiah and baby Kate, returned to their own home.
The grounds were better protected than they'd been in years with the new security guards, and the house was well protected at night with two young wizards and a witch living in, but Mary, Tony and Nicholas were all at their day jobs at 3 o'clock the following Monday afternoon.
Harry was in his chair in the lounge room, dozing, although even in his sleep, his forehead creased with the non-stop pain in his head. Will moved quietly around, tidying, his presence a reassurance to Harry. 'Treachery,' he'd called it, and the treachery hurt him as much as his head did. Hit in the back by a friend.
Andrew, still hiding behind his invisibility cloak, looked at him. Andrew thought that he'd come just to make sure that he was all right, before he left the country. But Harry woke, saw straight through the invisibility cloak, and saw the intention that Andrew was not yet aware of himself. Andrew wanted him dead, as if that would eliminate his own guilt.
Harry was looking at him, and Andrew was unsure whether he could be seen or not. But Harry spoke to Will, asking him to fix him a coffee, and to take his time.
Andrew was drawing his wand, carefully concealed under the invisibility cloak.
"Don't do it, Andrew," said Harry quietly. "Vicky told me I was not to kill you, but I don't necessarily do what my daughter tells me!"
Andrew let his wand slide back into his pocket, and innocently removed his invisibility cloak. "I only came to see whether you were all right, I wasn't going to harm you..."
Harry watched him coldly. "I may or may not recover. You, however, are going to suffer."
Andrew took a backward step, but Harry used his magic that never seemed to be affected by illness. Andrew was held helpless.
Harry watched him quietly. He was undecided. His head still hurt, and he knew that sometimes he was confused. He had been talking with Ginny that morning, who had been sitting next to him, although he was well aware that Ginny was a long time dead. And he had told Nicholas that he was not to blame himself if he died, that very few people could resist an Imperius Curse - but it was Euan, Nick's grandfather, who had thrown that Death Curse so long ago. Harry had been sixteen, Euan twelve.
Maybe Andrew wasn't even there. Maybe it was someone else. And in the end, he only used a bit of hypnotism, laced with the merest touch of magic. Andrew would forget how to get to Harry's property, Andrew would never again try to hurt him, or help anyone to hurt him, and Andrew was to leave the country, never to come back. Andrew was to leave the invisibility cloak. Harry wanted someone to tell him whether he'd been real.
He made a casual gesture of dismissal. "Go!" he said. Andrew Pritchard went.
Jason Wiley, the new security guard, spotted him as he left the house, and challenged him loudly, sending red sparks into the air from his wand. But Andrew was a trained auror, and as soon as he was within range, stunned Jason, the same as he'd stunned two small dogs who had run to him yapping when he'd first arrived.
Jimmy Carr saw him, too, and leaned forward over the neck of his accelerating, galloping horse, chasing him, although Jimmy was a squib, and had no weapon.
Andrew was running now, and disapparated, sobbing for breath, as soon as he reached the area on Harry's property where that was possible. Nearly all the house and grounds were protected by overlapping anti-apparation spells.
But when they went to Harry, filled with worry, he was only dozing again, and when Melissa Wiley gently shook his shoulder to wake him, to see whether he was all right, he complained that she made his head hurt worse. He'd forgotten entirely Andrew's visit, and could not say how an invisibility cloak had been left draped over a chair.
Jebedee was visiting daily, as he had before when Harry had been sick. But Harry's family had given their orders. No-one from the Ministry was to see him until he was reliably rational. And Harry's head still hurt, and he still spoke to people who weren't there.
It was three days later that Mary again asked him about the invisibility cloak, and he said that Andrew had left it. On being pressed for further information, though, he wasn't sure whether he'd killed Andrew or just told him to go away. Luckily there were witnesses who had seen him leave, as Andrew had sunk right out of sight. Harry was known to have killed before and vanished the bodies. He might have been in trouble if he'd casually told an auror that he couldn't remember whether or not he had killed.
Hermione finally returned, looking more pale and washed out than Harry. It had been a debilitating illness, although not severe. She had her suspicions about the cause. First she had been called in for what she thought little reason, and then she had met problems when she had tried to return, and then she had been sick.
Harry had been deeply concerned when she arrived, although they had not told him that she was sick. But as Ben watched, and Hermione brought out her array of monitors and devices, he still looked at her face, finally saying that Ron should look after her better.
Hermione said gently, "Ron died years ago, remember."
Harry was still concerned. "You should marry again so that someone can look after you. You shouldn't be alone."
"I'm not alone," said Hermione, "I've got my friends."
"Friends are not enough," said Harry. And he ran a hand through his hair, making it more messy than it was, and saying fretfully, "I wish I could think straight."
He was silent then, to her relief. She thought he'd been going to propose again, as he'd done before.
A week and a half later, Harry woke and sighed with relief. The pain had ceased, and when he stood, he was no longer dizzy. He stretched his muscles, and smiled. He was himself again. The feeling of no pain was a great feeling. It had been over a month.
Will had come to help him, but stood aside, not needed. He was pleased at Harry's improvement, but a little bereft, too. He quite liked the work of a farmhand, as long as someone was there to tell him what to do, but to be able to look after the boss when he was sick filled him with pride.
When Jebedee came that day, he was finally allowed to see his friend, who was found talking to an aged chestnut mare. It seemed that Harry didn't want to talk about the Ministry, or the elections for a new Minister for Magic. He was talking about taking up an offer of a Professorship in America. It seemed that Britain might lose their spell-breaker, but Jebedee was profoundly relieved to see that, at least, he was without further disability, and he wondered why he hadn't been allowed even a glimpse of Harry before now.
That afternoon, Harry went to see Anthea, who was close, and usually obliging. Her only child was at school, and she was still unmarried. She was good company, Anthea, quite aside from the sex.
Madam Barbara Bancroft was elected the new Minister for Magic, and Jebedee Shacklebolt won the position of Head of the Auror Department. But when Harry was requested to attend to discuss a resumption of overseas trips, he returned a polite note saying that he was no longer interested. He had not even resumed the stints at Ben's office, although he was healthy enough again now.
There were some reports added to the file on Harry Potter. Healer Goldsworthy had relished the opportunity to get as much information as possible, and Catherine Rutherford was asked by Sandra Darke, who was still in the senior position appointed by Percy, why she had not passed on the information that he was not a normal man.
Catherine just said briskly that of course he was a normal man, the measures referred to were unusual certainly, but an LV, for instance, of 294, did not mean that Harry was to be treated as an alien. Catherine had known for a long time that her Nisco no longer read true for Harry, and had quietly ascertained his true readings. She had never mentioned it to Harry, but had long since changed her mind about him being nothing special.
Harry thanked his family sincerely for their help, and the Davenports moved back to their own home. Nicholas, however, asked to stay for a while. He was single, and thought that he was extra security for his grandfather.
No-one knew whether Andrew might come back. Harry said that he wouldn't, but for a while he hadn't been sure whether or not he had killed Andrew. They had no confidence in his memory.
Harry was pleased to have young Nick about, he was company.
After another two weeks, Ben finally told Harry that he could apparate again if he chose. He had wanted Harry to wait, just in case the crippling head pain returned suddenly.
Ben went back to Germany, where they were pleased to welcome him. Healer Weasley had been treating Harry Potter through his latest illness. It was an honour to work with Healer Weasley.
Harry still had a sore feeling. After all this time, and all that he had tried to do to keep Percy and the Ministry happy, they had turned on him again. He felt as if he could only trust his family, and maybe a few of his closest friends. He started a book, just for himself, as Luna's had been just for the family. He had finally read Luna's book, more than ten years after she had died. And he had finished it, staring into the distance. It had seemed to bring her so close, and that night he cried for her again. Why was he so alone?
Jebedee still called frequently, and usually found him in his office, writing. Jebedee thought that he'd changed. He seemed to have lost the joy in life that had always been a part of him. Jebedee told him about Barbara Bancroft, that she was round and plump, had a benign outlook on life, and always had generous afternoon teas whenever she had a meeting.
Harry looked into the distance, and said that Cornelius Fudge had been round and plump, looked like everybody's uncle, and had organised to keep him sick when he was sixteen, had tried twice to imprison him when he was seventeen, and then tried to have him committed when he was twenty-four.
Jebedee only said lamely that he was sure Barbara wouldn't do anything like that, and that Harry knew he was safe from the Ministry as long as he, Jebedee, was head of the Auror Department. Harry said sorry, that he was just a bit depressed right now...
By the end of August, Harry finished his book, had the writing machine make just one copy, and put it in the hidden portion of the library where Luna's and Beth's books were kept, as well as a lot of old books on himself by various authors. For many years, he had made a point of reading whatever was published about himself, so that he'd be warned if they started saying he was a Dark Wizard, and should be locked away. He'd stopped the practice after the shameful events that had happened during and after his kidnapping. He didn't want to know what they said about him after that.
He did something then, that he'd been putting off. Muggle records were important. Even though some wizards liked to act as if muggles had nothing to do with wizardry, the fact remained that they lived in a muggle world. According to muggle records, old Harry Potter died, and the estate was left to his grandson, also called Harry Potter, aged eighteen. Harry thought that'd take care of it for a while.
There was another thing he had resolved was necessary, too. He'd been going to the same French brothel, on and off, for over twenty years now, and Marie had been the manager for all that time. Harry looked exactly the same as he looked the first day that a French taxi driver had taken him there, and one day Marie would notice.
So he had his secretary send a formal advice of his death, with a gift for every girl, and one for Marie. There was even one for the bouncer, Claude, who had helped him once when his wheelchair had started to fall down the stairs. It was a wrench. He wished that he could keep visiting. Lolita, especially, was such fun.
**x**
James came to see him one Sunday, the first of September. He wanted to walk with his father. Harry had looked at him, knew there was something on his mind, picked up his cape, and they went outside.
They walked a long time. Harry needed to use his cane sometimes when there was rough ground, but aside from that, he could walk fast and easily.
It took a half hour before James slowed, coming again to a thick grove of trees that had always been one of Harry's favourite places. James took out his wand, and conjured a park bench. Harry sat, waiting for his son. There had been an awkwardness between them for so long, since the kidnapping and his public humiliation. James had been at school, had been given a terrible time, and had never forgiven his father for causing him such shame.
"Beth talked to me," he finally said, not looking at his father. "She said I had to fully face it - what happened when you were kidnapped... I never looked at any of those films before... I couldn't... I'm sorry, Dad. It's taken a long time, but I'm so sorry I treated you the way I did."
Harry was staring away, trying not to cry. But finally he regained his composure to some degree, reached out and touched his son. "You were just a kid, and getting an awful time at school. It was a horrible thing to happen to you, having all the other kids knowing."
"I should have gone to America, like you said at the time."
Harry smiled at him now, "Yes, you probably should have done, and yet I was proud of you when you refused. Why let other people dictate to you what your life should be?"
It was like a weight had been lifted off his shoulders - it was his own words, Why let other people dictate to you what your life should be? and Harry whistled, twice, and a chestnut mare and a black gelding galloped to them.
"Ride?" asked Harry, a devil-may-care grin on his face, and James laughed, and jumped onto the mare, and the pair raced as hard as they could around the perimeter track.
Harry decided he had another job to do, a much more pleasant task than fixing up muggle records. He needed a replacement for the French brothel. He was good at finding women when he wanted, but sometimes he was tired, or they were in countries where sex was frowned upon. But there were always willing women at brothels, and in the best brothels, were women who liked sex as much as he did. He thought Lolita had liked it more.
He tried three, on consecutive nights, Switzerland, Denmark, Sweden. He liked them all. And then he tried one more - in London. There was a small, round woman, all curves. She had a cockney accent, and a wicked sense of humour. Harry had a new favourite. She was called 'Honey,' but he was quite sure that wasn't her real name. And he realised that the decision had made itself. He was ready to resume work, but maybe he'd just wait to be asked again... He still bore a grudge.
Hermione presided at his next Wednesday's stint of spell-breaking, and Jebedee had sent him Anthony and Simon. Harry was relieved. He no longer trusted aurors whom he didn't know well, and he sometimes had to concentrate. And this time he put his own anti-apparation spell over Hermione's office. He had been leaving this routine to the aurors, but that had been a mistake.
There were a lot of patients, and they were very relieved that Harry Potter was back. There was no-one to do this work if Harry couldn't or wouldn't do it.
Last, nervously, Scot Voxner came in, the one whom he'd been trying to fix when Andrew had hit him in the back. Harry warned him that the memory modification spell would also be broken, and waved his wand. It was easier than he had expected. It seemed that it only needed a nudge this time to finish the job he had begun three months before. The man was finally healed, and with one part of his mind, he relished the cure that he'd despaired of, and with another, he was filled with the startling memory of a young man abruptly appearing behind Harry, and aiming a spell at his back.
Harry decided he wanted an ice-cream. He had nearly lost his life again, and yet he was not only alive, he was not even damaged. But when he went into the waiting room, Jebedee waited for him, next to a plumply middle-aged woman, whom he thought he'd seen around now and then at the Ministry . She seemed scarcely over five feet, and Harry rather liked that in a person. He seemed so often to be surrounded by men much bigger than himself, and he smiled at the Minister for Magic, "Join me for an ice-cream?"
Barbara Bancroft laughed and said why not? She was a long way different from pompous Percival Weasley.
***chapter end***