Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter, I just enjoy messing with his head.

I would apologize for not updating for such a long time, but it was because of Real Life, so I won't. I would have much preferred writing this instead of studying for finals anyway.

Speech: "Talking aloud"; 'Thinking to oneself'; /Thinking to each other/; :Parseltongue:

Here's Chapter 4!

It was dark and warm. He felt as if he were floating in a cloud of blackness.

/Potter, you need to wake up./

He frowned upon hearing a familiar voice. He needed to wake up? Why? It was so much more peaceful here.

/I know you can hear me! Wake now!/

Harry wanted to protest that he didn't feel like waking up, but he couldn't move. The voice continued yelling and calling to him, growing louder and louder.

/Harry James Potter, if you don't wake up right now I'm going to cruciate you until you're even more of a babbling moron than you usually are!/ The agitated voice—Voldemort, he suddenly remembered—cursed. /NOW, Harry!/

He bolted upright. Looking around, Harry saw that he was in a white room, lying on a pristine bed. A tall, blurry, greenish figure entered his vision. "Ah, you're awake. Good." The person handed him his glasses, which had been lying on a table beside him.

Putting them on, Harry examined his surroundings more thoroughly. The white room greatly resembled a muggle hospital, only without all the beeping machines. Harry looked back to the man who had handed him his glasses, noting that the stranger was dressed in lime green robes with a strange symbol embroidered on the shoulder. "Where am I? Who are you?"

The man smiled gently at him. "You're at St. Mungo's Hospital for Magical Maladies and Injuries, though most people never take the time to say the whole thing. And as for me, well, I'm the resident night Healer. The name's Adrian Greengrass."

Harry stared blankly. "It's still night?" Then, "I'm in a wizarding hospital?"

Healer Greengrass smiled at him in a friendly way. " It's technically morning; the clock says three thirty. Yes, you are in a wizarding hospital. I assume you've never heard of it before?"

Harry nodded dumbly. "What am I doing here, though?"

The man's expression grew serious. "What's the last thing you remember, Harry?"

Harry gazed down at his hands clutching the white sheets. "I...uh...well... Uncle Vernon got a letter because that house-elf made it look like I did magic—"

The healer's eyes widened. "What do you mean? A house-elf performed the Hover charm?"

Looking up, Harry nodded again. "Was that what that spell was? I thought it was a levitation charm," he explained sheepishly.

Healer Greengrass smiled. "Well, you'll need to mention that to the auror that comes by later."

Harry frowned, opening his mouth to ask the man what an auror was. /An auror is a cross between a wizarding investigator and a soldier. An auror would be sent to question you to try and figure out what happened last night./ Harry closed his mouth, saying in reply to the healer's questioning look, "Never mind."

Healer Greengrass looked curious, but he didn't pursue it. "What else do you remember?"

Harry looked pointedly down at his sheets again, picking at a loose thread. "Uncle Vernon tried to kill me," he murmured. It was only just sinking in. Even though Harry had always know his uncle absolutely hated him—the feeling was quite mutual—Harry had never imagined that Uncle Vernon would actually try to kill him. He had thought that his uncle was too obsessed with being 'normal' to ever try something so drastic.

"It's alright, Harry." His head shot up, startled, having forgotten that the healer was there. The man smiled at him in a comforting manner. "They'll probably go through Muggle courts, but your relatives will be prosecuted. You won't have to go back there."

Harry gaped. 'Not go back to the Dursleys'?' Swallowing, he asked in bewilderment, "But where will I go? I thought they were my only relatives."

Healer Greengrass laughed. "They might be your only close relatives, but you father was a pureblooded wizard, and most British purebloods are related somehow. I know for a fact that Lucius Malfoy's wife is your...second or third cousin" he paused here to smirk at Harry's distasteful expression upon this revelation, "and a great-something Potter aunt of yours married into the Nott family, and another into the Bones. Merlin! You and I are probably distant cousins, if you look far enough back."

Harry was gaping dumbly again. /I have family in the wizarding world?/

Voldemort snickered in the back of his mind. /Of course. As Greengrass said, nearly all British pureblooded wizards are related. Honestly, you and I probably share blood as well. It's rather unavoidable with a pureblood as a parent./

Harry shook his head. "Wow. Just...wow. I'm not sure how happy I am to hear I'm related to Malfoy, but..."

The healer watched him curiously. "I suppose you dislike the Malfoys, then."

Harry snorted. "Yeah—well, I've never met his parents, but Draco's a smarmy prat of a bully. He wouldn't stop insulting my friends and my parents during school."

The man laughed outright at that. "I heard much the same thing from Daphne," the healer said with a grin. "I was in the same year as Lucius, and my wife was in Narcissa's class. While Lucius is a slightly more refined and tactful version of his son, Narcissa is actually a delightful woman, and she never openly approved of her husband's choice in master during the war. Even if you don't end up in her custody, I would suggest writing to her if you want some wizarding family."

Harry blinked at the information overload. "That sound like a good idea," he said with a slight smile before hesitantly asking, "Who's Daphne?"

"She's my daughter. Daphne is actually in your year at school, even though since she was a Slytherin I doubt you ever actually spoke with her. House rivalries are quite strong."

Harry narrowed his eyes in confusion before nodding. "I remember her. I thought it was odd because she and this boy—Zabini, I think—never hung around Malfoy, and all the other Slytherins seemed to worship him."

The healer laughed again. "The other children follow Draco because the Malfoys are one of the most powerful Families in Britain. They also became the leader of the Dark Party when the Lord of House Black died."

Harry blinked, confused again. "Dark Party?"

Healer Greengrass hesitated, confusion flashing briefly through his eyes, and then nodded. "The British Wizarding Court is the Wizengamot—it's rather like Muggle Parliament, only it doubles as a jury. The Wizengamot is split into three political parties—Light, Dark, and Neutral. The three parties vote on laws and such. Currently, the House of Longbottom heads the Light Party, and the House of Malfoy heads the Dark," He explained.

"Neville's family is in government?" Harry exclaimed in astonishment. "But he doesn't act like Malfoy at all!" Healer Greengrass began chuckling. Then, noticing the omission, Harry asked, "What about the Neutral Party?"

The healer pinned him with a hard look. "What about it?"

Harry frowned, asking, "Who heads that Party?"

Still looking at him oddly, Healer Greengrass said slowly, "The House of Potter traditionally leads the Neutral Party, though it has been acting very Light for the past few years."

Harry stared. "What?" Shaking his head, Harry said in bewilderment, "My family was in government? Wait—" he suddenly looked up as the tail end of the healer's statement sunk in. "What do you mean 'House of Potter...has been acting very Light'?"

Healer Greengrass frowned, looking rather annoyed. "I mean that your proxy has been siding with the Light Party on a great deal of issues—and passing new laws using your name and your votes."

"My proxy? What proxy?"

The healer sat up straighter, still eyeing him in disbelief. "Your magical guardian. He's been using your votes for years. Surely you knew?"

Harry shook his head, becoming agitated. "No. I-I didn't even know I had any votes. I didn't know how the government worked, much less that I was supposed to be voting in it!" It was incredibly unsettling, knowing that someone had been passing laws in his name, no matter what kind of laws they were. "Wha-what's a magical guardian?"

The man gaped at him, shaken. "What's a magical—you don't know what a magical guardian is?"

"N-no. I've never even heard of one before. Should I have?" Harry had an increasing sense of foreboding. He watched the healer, who had now begun pacing, outrage visible in every step, begin to murmur to himself. Harry wondered why he was so furious.

/He has reason to be furious!/ Voldemort suddenly burst out. /Someone told me what magical guardians were when I was eleven. It's the law. Every magical child living in the Muggle world must have a wizard guardian who sees to their well-being. For most Muggleborns, a teacher is assigned, or a classmate's parent. I actually had Professor Flitwick as my magical guardian. As a wizard-born child, you guardian should have visited every year since your placing in that Muggle hell-hole. Besides, if you've never met your magical guardian, then that person has been illegally voting with your seats and name./

Healer Greengrass suddenly stopped pacing, turning to Harry. "If you'll excuse me, Harry, I have a crime to report. I suggest you getting back to sleep." He then spun around and walked out the door, his back still rigid with suppressed anger.

DMHPDM

Adrian Greengrass had never been so infuriated in his life. Adrian had been horrified to discover that Heir Potter was hospitalized due to injuries inflicted on him by his own family. He had enjoyed the small talk with Harry, and the chance to see the vaunted Boy-Who-Lived up close.

Harry's bewilderment had been amusing at first, though Adrian had been startled that the boy had never heard of St. Mungo's. Harry's reaction to recalling his uncle's abuse had been surprising as well. He hadn't looked at all distressed at the fact that his own flesh and blood had tried to kill him—more subdued and ashamed than anything. Adrian made a mental note to inform the investigating auror of Heir Potter's comments about a house-elf. He was sure Shaklebolt would find that as interesting as he had.

What had also been interesting was Heir Potter's lack of knowledge concerning his wizarding roots. Sure, the boy didn't have any incredibly close relatives, but Narcissa Malfoy was his second cousin, and Amelia Bones was his cousin-once-removed, not to mention the dozens of distant cousins from the Black family.

That oddity, however, paled in comparison to what Adrian had learned just afterwards. The idea that a person was taking advantage of a war orphan—a boy responsible for their peace, at that—was galling. What was even more galling was the fact that Adrian had overheard that person assuring many people that he had Harry's permission and Harry was fully in support of whatever bill or law he was voting on at the time. He had been furious, knowing that he—that all of them—had allowed this injustice against a child, and an ally of House Greengrass, at that.

Healer Greengrass's expression grew grim. Harry's alleged proxy was going to learn why it did not pay to double-cross House Potter. Adrian was sure that the other Neutral Houses would be very interested in learning about the crimes against the most powerful member of their Party. A smile hovered over his lips as he Floo'd to the ministry, not even stopping to remove his healer's robes. Oh, yes. They would show Albus Dumbledore what happened when you angered the allies of the Ancient and Most Noble House of Potter.

HPLVHP

/That was abrupt./ Harry thought to Voldemort, watching as the Healer's lime green robes whipped around the corner.

/Indeed./ the spirit replied dryly.

Harry hesitated, then asked, /So, what happened after I lost consciousness? How did I get here?/

Voldemort heaved a sigh. /The walrus left shortly after you did. When you fell unconscious, I found myself in control of your body./

/WHAT?/

/Calm down,/ he said irritably, /It's actually a good thing. That means if you are ever knocked out in a fight I can still get us out of trouble. Of course, it would have been better if I could access you magic as well. As it was, I barely managed to unlock Hedwig's cage./ Sensing the unspoken question, the dark wizard continued. /I wrote a short note and sent Hedwig to your blood-traitor friend. After that, your body ran out of energy, and I didn't wake until you did./

/So.../

/I assume that the boy contacted his parents and they brought you here./

/Oh, Okay./ Harry replied, yawning out the last word.

/Go back to sleep, brat./ To Harry's drowsy mind, the Dark Lord's voice almost sounded affectionate, but that couldn't be right. 'I'm his enemy. He's already tried to kill me twice—why would he show any affection for me?' He laughed to himself. 'The day Voldemort shows affection is a cold day in hell...'

Harry yawned again. /G'night, Voldemort,/ he murmured softly, smiling at the answering /Good night, brat./

DMHPDM

Ron hurried down the halls of St. Mungo's, running ahead of his mother. He stopped at the end of another long corridor, opening the door hesitantly and peeking inside. A broad grin spread across his face at seeing his friend sitting in a hospital bed staring at a wall with a spacey look on his face.

"Hey, mate!" Ron said, opening the door wider and walking into the ward.

Harry looked up in surprise. "Ron? Mrs. Weasley?" he exclaimed. "What are you doing here?"

Ron rolled his eyes. "Visiting you, of course. What else would I be doing?" Mrs. Weasley smiled as Harry's face pinked. Ron grinned again, sitting in a chair next to Harry's bed and asking, "So how are you?"

His friend smiled back at him, nearly bouncing in his seat. "I'm great! They said I won't ever have to go back to the Dursleys. I don't even have to see them again if I don't want to!"

"Really?" Ron replied. "That's brilliant! Are they going to be arrested?"

Harry nodded. "Yep! An auror came by earlier, and told me both Aunt Petunia and Uncle Vernon were arrested this morning by Muggle authorities, and Dudley's going to be put in a foster home. The trials start next Friday."

"That's wonderful, dear," Mrs. Weasley said warmly. "Harry, I think I'm going to step out and talk to your healer for a few moments about when the twins and Ron need to speak with the auror."

Harry frowned, confused. "Why would they need to do that?"

Ron said "We...uh...we were the ones that found you."

Mrs. Weasley nodded in confirmation. "Yes, well, I'll probably be gone a little while, so you boys behave." After she stepped out of the room, Harry turned to Ron.

"You and the twins found me?" He asked incredulously. Then, sighing, he asked, "So what happened after my...companion sent you that note?"

Ron shrugged. "I panicked when I got your note. I mean," he said defensively, "it was covered in smudges of blood and looked like You-Know-Who had written it! What's up with that, anyway?" Ron asked. "I thought he couldn't control you."

Harry laughed. "He can't—well, not really. He thinks it was because I was unconscious and in danger; my magic knew I wasn't in any shape to defend myself, and Vo-You-Know-Who would have a better chance at keeping me alive." At Ron's "Oh" he gestured impatiently. "Go on. What happened next?"

Ron exhaled, continuing his narrative. "Well, Fred and George were the first ones I saw, and they suggested that we take our dad's flying car to your house and check on you. We did, and while we were arguing about whether to take you home or here, bloody Snape walked in and took you and me to St. Mungo's while the twins flew home." He then hesitated, before adding, "Oh, and they know about your, uh, your companion."

Harry's eyes widened, and he exclaimed in alarm, "What? They know?"

Ron nodded. "I made them both swear not to let it slip, though—and they won't," he added, trying to reassure his friend, who looked like he was about to hyperventilate. "Fred and George may be goofs, but they won't mess around when it's serious."

Harry trembled slightly. "Okay, I trust you, Ron." Then, after a brief pause he added, "Oh, and You-Know-Who wanted me to tell you something."

Ron stared, paling slightly. "He what?"

Harry grinned at the apprehensive look on Ron's face. " Relax, he's not planning your torture or anything," Harry giggled, before growing serious. "He says that if you really want to keep it a secret, you need to be careful around adults. There's this magic called 'Legilimency' that's essentially mind-reading."

"Mind-reading?"

"Yeah. He knows of at least four Masters in the Mind Arts (besides him, anyway), and a bunch more who can scan people's surface thoughts."

Ron shuddered. "I don't like the sound of that. Someone reading my mind—yeck!"

Harry nodded fervently. "I know what you mean. The four people we really have to watch out for are Dumbledore, Snape, some lady named Amelia Bones, and a Griselda Marchbanks. He said that they were so good they could even read a person with some mind magic training without that person noticing at all."

"Wow," Ron breathed. "That's kind of scary." Then the thought struck him. "Snape can read minds? No wonder no one ever gets away with anything with him. He's cheating!"

Harry laughed so hard he fell over on the bed.

After he had calmed down a bit, Harry began to tell Ron about his talk with the night healer, and what he had learned from him about Harry's magical guardian.

Ron gaped. "Merlin's Beard! I think a magical guardian who neglects his charge can be sentenced to nearly twenty years in Azkaban. Longer if the kid was abused because of his neglect."

Harry queried in bewilderment, "What's Azkaban?"

"Azkaban is the British wizarding prison. The guards are these horrible creatures that such all the happiness out of you. Dad says everyone sent to Azkaban comes away mad as a hatter."

Harry shook his head. "That's awful."

Ron suddenly snickered, breaking the morose silence. "Merlin, Harry, everything happens to you, doesn't it?"

Harry snorted as well. "I guess so, Ron. I guess so."

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