Note: The astute observer will note that with the posting of this chapter, I have decided on a pairing. A grand total of two reviewers gave their suggestions, and I've considered both of them. That being said, I don't want Katie, Daphne, or Susan. So instead, Harry is going to be with the believer of impossible things and general oddball: Luna. Like I said in the Prologue, though, that won't pick up until fourth year, though it starts sooner.

Enough of my rambling.

Vamanos!

CHAPTER TWO: THE IMMORTALITY STONE, Cont'd

Harry woke to the familiar sensation of Petunia's fingers carding through his hair. He then registered that it was the only good thing he was feeling. Everything else hurt. Everything. His legs, his arms, his hands, his head, his ribs, and especially his eyes. Even his ears hurt, and he hadn't done anything to them. He hoped. And because each word felt like a railroad spike driven into his sinuses, he was decidedly aware of the muttered conversation carrying on around him.

"How could this have happened?"

"Now, now, Minerva. You had no way of knowing what would happen. You mustn't blame yourself."

"Then who should she blame, Albus? From where I'm sitting she looks pretty guilty."

"So would you if you'd caused that to happen to one of your students!"

"He's not my student, he's my son! I put him into your care and two weeks later I get a call- a call...do you have any idea how much that scared me? Having that stupid little dish tell me my son is in the hospital?"

Muffled sobs filled the air, and the fingers in Harry's hair ceased moving through it and went down to trace his cheek. It tickled, but did little against the ache of giant bruise his body had become.

"I think I should leave," the voice he identified as Professor McGonagall said.

"No," said Dumbledore's voice. "you should stay. Unless I'm mistaken, young Mister Potter has finally woken up, and you will want to reassure yourself he is alright."

Harry opened his eyes, wished he hadn't, then closed them again. "Ow." he mumbled.

"Harry?" Petunia sniffled. "Sweetie, how are you feeling?"

Harry groaned. "Like I was hit by a lorry."

The noise Petunia made was somewhere between a laugh and a sob. "Oh, God, I'm so glad you're okay!" Familiar arms wrapped around him and held him close. He felt his mum's chest shake while she cried in relief. He patted her arm-the only place he could reach-and tried to reassure her that he was okay.

"Mum, I'm...well, I'm not okay, but I'll live. I promise. I'm here, and I'm not going anywhere."

Petunia sniffled again and released him. "Oh, I know, sweetie, but you scared me so bad."

"I know." and he felt terrible about it, too. "I'm sorry."

She took his hand and rubbed his arm, and he knew he was forgiven.

"Professor!" Harry gasped, suddenly remembering the giant, bruised man. "Hagrid! Is Hagrid okay?"

Dumbledore smiled gently. "Hagrid is fine, Harry. Carried you here, in fact. He's been checking on you about every hour or so." The smile diminished somewhat. "Harry, I'm afraid I have to ask you what happened out there."

"Does he have to now?" Petunia asked, wrapping an arm around Harry's shoulders. "Surely this can wait until the morning."

"No, mum, it's okay." Harry said. He looked from her worried face, to Professor McGonagall's guilty one, to Dumbledore's concerned expression. "I don't remember everything, but I'll do my best. After we entered the woods, I lost track of Hagrid..."

From start to finish the whole incident couldn't have taken more than an hour. When he was down there scared out of his mind it had seemed like days. He felt a spark of fear when he recounted the cloaked figure that thrown him into the tree. If he closed his eyes he could see its not-face on the back of his lids. He reached the last thing he remembered, drawing more power to him than he had before, and looked at Dumbledore.

The old man knew what the thing out there was. "Professor Dumbledore? Sir? That thing out there...what was it?"

Dumbledore looked old. So incredibly old, with eyes full of regret. "I will answer you, but first I must ask how you drove it away."

Harry swallowed and his eyes throbbed. "I...I don't know why, sir, but I put my magic in my eyes. I put so much I threw up. The last thing I remember is opening them."

"I see. Thank you, Mr. Potter, for telling me. Now, to answer your question, the creature you encountered was a wraith. It is a curious thing, a combination of life and death. A wraith is created when a person possessed by a spirit has their soul overridden."

McGonagall, who had until this point remained silent, spoke. "But who or what could this wraith have been? And what do we plan to do about it?" Petunia looked very intent on the answers to those questions. So was Harry.

"To the first question, I have only a suspicion, which we have spoken at length about before." Here McGonagall turned very pale. "To the second, I have already dispatched notice to the Department of Paranormal Research and Defense. I have been assured of the wraith's destruction within the week. In the meantime, I think perhaps we should keep any and all outdoor activities away from the Forest."

"I agree. I'll make the announcement at dinner tonight. Mr. Potter, I'm glad you're feeling better, and I must apologize for my part in all this."

Harry smiled softly. "It's okay, Professor. It wasn't your fault."

McGonagall nodded, almost smiled, and left the Hospital. Petunia started fussing with his hair again, which he let happen. He was too tired and aching to stop her, and he kind of liked it. The silence that had fallen in McGonagall's leaving had yet to be broken.

Petunia broke it by kissing Harry on the head and wiping under her eyes. "Okay. I've got to go, sweetie. I promised your dad I'd come home after you woke up."

"How long have you been here?"

Dumbledore answered. "You've been asleep and recovering for the better part of two days. I understand your friends are rather desperate for knowledge of your condition. Shall I inform them you are accepting visitors?"

Harry nodded eagerly. Petunia smiled at him, then looked to Dumbledore. "Don't think I've forgotten about our talk, Albus."

"Of course not." the Headmaster bowed his head. "Shall we go to my office? I believe this conversation is better held away from prying ears."

They meant him, he realized, but he didn't care. He had a pretty good idea what they were talking about anyway. What he wanted right then was to see his friends and tell them what had happened. He wanted them to know he was all right.

With another kiss to Harry's forehead Petunia and Dumbledore left the hospital. Their murmured conversation vanished as they went through the massive doubled doors. Neville and Hermione ducked in through the door just before it closed behind the departing adults. He grinned widely at them. There was no way they were going to believe this. He barely did, after all.

They were very good listeners, asking questions and gasping in all the right places. When Harry got to describing the wraith attacking him, Hermione gasped and covered her mouth with her hands. Her eyes were shining and she could barely get her words out.

"H-harry, you c-could have been killed!" she stammered. Beside her, a pale Neville nodded in agreement. "I've read about wraiths in Marlowe's Darkest Hearts and Spirits, and...they don't generally leave survivors."

Harry frowned. "What are you saying?"

Neville had cottoned on faster than he could and as a result had paled even more. "She's saying that this wraith knew you and, for whatever reason, wants you alive."

There was really nothing to say to that. The knowledge that a wraith wanted you for some purpose wasn't something that happened to Harry. He didn't know how to deal with it, how to react to it, how to respond. He didn't know what to do, so he resolved to do what every boy his age did when confused.

Call their dad.

Unfortunately for Harry, his dad was both non-magical and very uncomfortable with the magic world, so he'd have to settle for the next best thing. He eyed his legs as Hermione speculated with Neville who this wraith could have been. It was a long walk to the Headmaster's office, and he wasn't sure he could do it alone. More importantly, he wasn't sure that Madam Pomfrey would let him. The mediwitch was headed his way with a tub of salve and a determined look.

"Guys," he said, cutting across their argument about Professor Snape being possessed and no one noticing. "do you think you could ask one of the Professors to bring Dumbledore here? We need to tell him about me and the wraith."

"The wraith and I, Harry," Hermione corrected before blushing. "Sorry, reflex. Sure, we'll go find one of them. I think it's lunchtime, so we'll bring some food back for you after we tell them. Okay?"

Harry smiled. "That would be great, thanks."

The two of them left, leaving him alone with Madam Pomfrey and the tub of salve. He eyed it nervously and she scoffed.

"It's only bruise salve, Mr. Potter. I swear, every young man who comes in here looks at me like I'm going to hurt them. I just don't understand it!"

Hermione came back without Neville but with a plate of food and Professor Dumbledore in tow. She paused for a second at the sight of Harry covered in the bright green bruise salve, but shook her head and set the plate down on the table next to him.

"Ew, that smells." she said, scrunching up her nose.

Harry glared at her. "You know, I didn't notice."

"Sorry."

Dumbledore reached them after a quick talk with Madam Pomfrey. "Ah, bruise salve. I remember it well. I was a beater in my youth, you see, and had the unfortunate tendency to stop bludgers with my torso rather than my bat." he paused for a moment to reminisce. "Anyway, Ms. Granger said you needed to tell me something?"

"Yes, sir." Now that he was here Harry had a hard time believing Dumbledore didn't already know. The old wizard was the smartest man he had ever met. As a result, Harry fidgeted. "Well, you see, sir. We, Hermione, Neville, and me, that is...well, we thought the wraith knew who I was."

Dumbledore's only reaction was to raise a brow. "Oh? What makes you think that?"

"He's still alive, Professor." Hermione said. "And so is Hagrid. I think, and Harry agrees, that the wraith knows who he is and has something planned that it needs him alive for. I don't know what, exactly, but I'd assume some kind of ritual or spell, sir."

Dumbledore peered over the top of his glasses at her for a long moment. "I had reached the same conclusions as well, not minutes ago. You have the most remarkable mind, Ms. Granger."

"Thank you, Professor." Hermione blushed a brilliant scarlet and became very interested in her feet. Dumbledore turned to Harry, who was grinning.

"She's something, isn't she?" He asked, only furthering her blush.

"Indeed. Mr. Potter, about the identity of the wraith..."

"Yes?" Harry sat up as best he could.

Dumbledore sighed. "My original plan was to withhold this information from you." he held up an aged hand to forestall protest. "It would have served no purpose and, powerful as you may become, you are only eleven. However, recent circumstances have forced me to make an announcement to the school about the identity, past and present, of the wraith and its presence here at Hogwarts."

"Why? What's happened?"

"Professor Quirrel has gone missing. He disappeared the night you were attacked. The spirit, well, that I believe I will keep to myself for now."

Harry wanted to argue, but recognized the look on Dumbledore's face. He'd seen it on his mum's often enough. It was the don't argue with me look, and it was ignored at great peril. "Okay, sir. What do we do now?"

Dumbledore stood and smiled at him. "We do nothing, Mr. Potter. Your part in this tale is done, and you should leave it that way. Now, is there anything else?"

Harry shook his head. He was both relieved and disappointed at being told to leave it alone. He had only to picture the wraith's bony, taloned hands for his disappointment to vanish.

"Good. I've spoken with Madam Pomfrey, and she says you can leave tomorrow morning. That should give you the entire weekend to catch up on your schoolwork. Or rather, that should give you Sunday night to catch up." Dumbledore's eyes twinkled. "Until tomorrow, Mr. Potter."

"See you, sir." Harry's reply was reflex. The old wizard swept out of the hospital, leaving a just now not-blushing Hermione alone with him. "So, Hermione." he said. "I didn't know you could turn that shade of red. Did you?"

She swatted him and laughed. "Prat." her smile vanished as she sobered. "So, what now?"

Harry hauled the plate onto his lap and picked up the fork. He was halfway through his meat pie before he realized she'd asked him something and swallowed. "Excuse me?"

"I asked you what we would do next."

"Nothing." he replied, perplexed. "Professor Dumbledore said he'd take care of it, and he will. Simple as that."

"But...I thought..."

"No." he pointed the fork at her. "Hermione: No. I've only known you two weeks and I know that look. We aren't digging into this. Period. This thing nearly killed Hagrid, beat the living snot out of me, and is now prowling the Forbidden Forest. All of these things add up to leave it alone, Harry Potter."

"I...fine." she pouted, and stole one of his tomatoes. Harry watched her chew thoughtfully, and worried that her puzzle obsessed mind wouldn't let this go.

Walking was such a chore he decided to give it up as a bad egg and be carried everywhere. Apparently one of the consequences of breaking six of your ribs was the inability to walk unassisted. Luckily, Harry had two crutches he could rely on with regularity. Their names were Neville and Hermione. He'd been released from the hospital that morning and realized that the bruise salve hadn't changed his status as a walking bruise. It had only covered it up.

Very quickly he came to hate Transfiguration and Charms. Both of them involved staircases, and these were Harry's new villains. The classes themselves carried on as if he hadn't been nearly killed by a great evil ghost-man-thing. This was somewhat annoying, but not truly angering.

What was angering was being accosted by Malfoy just outside the Great Hall the second day after his release. He'd been borrowing Hermione to lean on to get to lunch, and their progress had been blocked by the pale boy and his two thugs, whom he'd never bothered to learn the names of.

"So, Potter," Malfoy drawled. Harry groaned.

"Can we not do this now? It's lunchtime, and I'm hungry. I'll come back after and we'll bicker to our heart's content. Sound good? Come on, Hermione."

Together they managed to push through the flabbergasted Slytherins and were almost in the Great Hall when Malfoy piped up again. "Did you scream?"

Harry stopped. He turned very slowly. "What now?"

"When you were attacked," Malfoy said slowly, as if speaking to a dog. "did. You. Scream?"

Harry was hungry. He was tired all the time. His body ached. He was behind on his work and he wasn't getting enough sleep because of it. So, his patience, never very high, was now much shorter. Even so, he may have overreacted.

"Leave me alone, Malfoy." He growled. Hermione was tugging on him, nearly dragging him into the Great Hall. He fought her pull, but it was a losing battle.

"Oh, ho ho!" he laughed, his bookends chortling in unison. "I struck a nerve, there, didn't I? I bet you screamed. I bet it reminded you of losing her, of watching her die. You were only a baby, but I bet you remember! I bet you can still hear her screams."

Hermione had stopped pulling on Harry and was now gaping open mouthed at Malfoy. Harry had gone stone still. As close as she was, Hermione saw wisps of gold smoke escaping his eyes.

"Malfoy, leave!" she shouted, trying to budge Harry. "Just go away and leave us alone!"

"Oh, I don't think I will, Mudblood. In fact, I-"

The world never found out what Malfoy intended to do. Harry snapped up his hand and snarled, "Go."

A blast of golden mist blasted out of his hand, arced across the distance between them, and slammed Malfoy and his two thugs across the Entrance Hall and through the doors of the supply closet.

After that, several things happened at once.

Hermione screamed, "Harry!"

Pain exploded in Harry's eyes.

A familiar Scottish accent shouted, "Mr. Potter!"

Harry doubled over. Then he straightened. Both McGonagall and Hermione gasped. On the edges of his eyes a faint something was scarred into his skin. Since she was closer, Hermione got the best look. They were runes, like nothing she'd ever seen before. They looped in and around each other, the end of one segueing into the next and never breaking the line.

"Harry?" She said nervously. "Are you okay?"

He scrubbed at his eyes. "Yeah, my eyes hurt really bad for a few seconds, but I'm okay now." He blinked the tears from his eyes and saw her and Professor McGonagall staring at him.

"What?"

Harry sighed and rubbed his eyes, feeling the runes under his fingertips. He hadn't noticed them until Professor Dumbledore had conjured a mirror to show him, but now that he'd seen them he couldn't forget them.

He was sitting in Dumbledore's office, a place he'd been far more familiar with that he'd have liked these last few weeks. A few hours ago he'd been brought up here by a speechless Professor McGonagall, who then left to take Malfoy to the hospital, leaving Harry alone with Professor Dumbledore. Again.

It was about Malfoy.

Again.

Harry was beginning to see a pattern, one that he didn't like. Malfoy brought out the worst in him, made him angrier than he'd ever been in his life. No other person on earth, not even Dudley at his worst, could make Harry lose it like Malfoy could. From the instant they'd met he'd known they wouldn't get along, but this was just ridiculous. A sentiment that Dumbledore seemed to share.

"Mr. Potter," he said tiredly, pinching the bridge of his nose. "why do I always see you after receiving news of Mr. Malfoy's hospitalization?"

It sounded rhetorical, like the kind Vernon would ask before he got grounded, so Harry kept quiet.

"This," he brandished a piece of parchment. "is a letter from Lucius Malfoy, Mr. Malfoy's father. He's demanding your expulsion and Harry, he can do it."

Harry paled. His mouth refused to open. Dumbledore continued.

"He controls the Board of Governors, who in turn control the school and through it, me. I have been protecting you as best I can, but your continued assaults on his pride are driving him to greater and greater heights. I don't know how much longer I can stall him."

Something struck Harry as odd, then. Dumbledore said, 'on his pride' not his son, his pride. Maybe it was the panic. Maybe it was the raw fear of being expelled from the greatest place he'd ever been, but for whatever reason Harry spoke without thinking. "He doesn't care about Malfoy, does he, sir?"

Dumbledore looked both very old and very sad. "That, Mr. Potter, is between Mr. Malfoy and his father. Now, the question of what to do with you is tricky, but not unsolvable. I'm placing you on probation until the end of the year, at which point, behavior depending, you will either return for a second year or return home. I must bid you good day, as I have much to do."

The last image Harry had of Dumbledore before he left the office was that of a tired old man stretched far too thin.

The days following Harry's fight with Malfoy were some of the most tense he'd ever experienced. Whispers followed him like shadows, and no matter where he went he couldn't seem to escape staring eyes. The mood of the school had fallen, rather predictably, into three camps. The Gryffindors were ecstatic about Malfoy being taken down. The Slytherins were beyond furious for the same reason. Ravenclaw and Hufflepuff disapproved of both.

Nobody seemed to realize or care how much Harry hated himself for losing control. How guilty he felt for hurting someone so badly. All they saw was Harry Potter, the Boy Who Lived, beating down the son of Death Eater.

Then October rolled around.

It had only been a month.

Only Hermione and Neville knew how much Harry was bothered by what was going on. They were there to support in any way they could and his friendship with them deepened and solidified into something wonderful. He reckoned that without them, he'd have gone mad.

Tonight his spirits were even lower. It was Halloween, a day doomed to be dark for him for the rest of his life. The promise of candy did little to raise his spirits, though seeing his friends in such a good mood helped somewhat. He let them drag him to the feast by the arms and nibbled on whatever they put on his plate.

He'd even started to smile a little when the door burst open and a bloodied Filch staggered into the Hall, clutching his arm. "Chimaera!" he screamed. "On the third floor corridor! It-" he gasped and collapsed in a heap.

Silence reigned for a good eight seconds.

Then mayhem.

Kids were screaming, food was flung about, people were scrambling in any direction they could think of. Teachers shouted for order, but their voices were lost in the chaos. The students mobbed their way towards the Great Hall doors; pushing, shoving, and jinxing everyone in their way.

Harry grabbed Neville and Hermione and dragged them under the table to hide. The noise was deafening, they couldn't speak to each other, so they huddled close and tried to avoid feet.

A sound like a thousand cannons going off echoed in the Hall.

Silence fell.

Harry tentatively poked his head over the table and saw everyone staring at Dumbledore, who held his wand aloft. In that moment, the old wizard had power and authority wrapped around him like a cloak. "If everyone will please remain calm," he spoke calmly, his voice carrying to every corner. "Prefects, seal the Hall. Teachers will accompany me to the third floor. Poppy, see to Argus. I suspect he was bitten."

Harry, watching the Prefects trying to attain the same authority Dumbledore had just shown, never saw the shadows behind him lengthening. The last thing he heard before his world went black was Hermione's horrified scream.

When he woke, it was to the sensation of cold stone. His body ached from lying on it. Harry opened his eyes and saw torches guttering on the walls and massive braziers casting dancing shadows on the columns and walls. He looked for a door, a way out, but couldn't find one. His palms started to sweat, and the hairs on the nape of his neck rose. Cold fear crept down his spine.

He was alone.

No, wait.

A sound, a rasping, coughing sound the likes of which he never wanted to hear again.

Slowly, pushing his aching body off the cold floor, Harry stood and turned to face the wraith.

He saw its face and wished he hadn't. It was floating in the center of the room, hood thrown back, facing him with a smile on its sallow, bony face. Then it did something even more terrifying. It spoke.

"Harry Potter." Its voice was like burnt silk. "At long last."

"Who are you?" Harry's voice cracked. "What do you want from me?"

"Me? Nothing. My master, on the other hand: he wants to meet you."

"Who's your master?" though he already knew. In the darkest corner of his mind, he knew.

"You know him, Harry. You've already met. On this very night, in fact, ten years ago. He has waited so long for this day."

Harry looked wildly around for an exit, a door, anything. He found only blank stone. His heart sank and a terrible sadness filled him. He couldn't escape. He was trapped, alone with the wraith.

A wraith that at least in part Lord Voldemort.

"Wh-why do you need me?" he found himself asking.

The wraith shifted position, floating up and to the left of where it once was. "He doesn't need you, Harry. He needs your blood. Only with that can he truly return."

Harry's mouth was very dry, and he was having trouble breathing. He couldn't feel his heartbeat anymore, it had long since risen into his throat. He was filled with the terrible certainty that he was about to die.

Faces flashed across his vision. Petunia. Vernon. Dudley. Hermione. Neville. People he loved and people he was coming to love. He would never see them again. His parents were going to wake up tomorrow and smile and laugh and not know that their adopted son was dead, in a cold room in the bowels of a Scottish castle.

Harry found courage in that. In knowing he was going to die, he was free of fear. Calm flooded through his limbs and loosened him up. He felt his magic respond to the call, wrapping unseen ropes around his arms and hands. His eyes glowed and the runes around them lit up from within. The wild rush of magic pounded in his veins.

Harry Potter was free.

"You'll never get my blood." He said with calm certainty.

The wraith laughed. "Bravery. Commendable. Useless in the face of death, but commendable. Your parents were brave, Harry. They fought my master until the end. Will you be like them? Will you face death unbowed?"

His gold eyes were hard chunks of burnished amber. "Yes."

It tilted its head. "So be it."

The wraith rushed forward, claws outstretched . Harry thrust his hands forwards, screaming wordlessly. The wraith collided with his power feet in front of him. The resulting explosion sent them both flying away and cracked a column in two.

He landed hard and slid across the stone floor, coming to rest against a wall. He heaved himself to his feet and pulled more power to him. He felt a tremble of nausea in his stomach, but there was no time for that. The wraith rushed him again, this time from the left. This time, Harry wasn't fast enough.

It caught him across the chest with a swipe of its taloned hands. Harry screamed and fell to the ground, his gathered power exploding away from him in a shockwave that shook the room.

The wraith paused. "Power. You possess it, yet you have not earned it. How? How have you this power yet my master does not?"

Harry's response was a lance of gold light that blew the wraith and a good deal of the nearby wall across the room. He stood, bleeding freely from the chest. His legs shook and he could feel the runes burning their way across his skin. He pulled all the power he could into himself and directed it into his hands. His palms burned.

"Burn." He hissed, and swept his hands in an arc in front of him. Gold flames spread to the width of the room and rushed across it. The heat twisted stones and metal sconces melted and ran. The wraith screamed as the flames touched him, sending spikes of agony into Harry's head. He lost concentration and the fires vanished. He clutched at his head and screamed.

"Join me, Harry." the wraith hissed. Harry, through his haze of pain, felt a vicious satisfaction at that. "With power such as yours, think of the wonders we will accomplish. We can bring your parents back to life!"

The idea was tempting. So very tempting. If only to see his parent's faces for the first time. Then he imagined Petunia's face when she found out what he'd done. He could easily see it. Same with Neville, and Hermione, and Professor Dumbledore, and Professor McGonagall. They would never forgive him.

"No!" Harry yelled, and threw everything he had at the walls of the chamber. The entire room shook again, and stones fell to shatter on the floor. A shard cut him across the leg and it buckled beneath him. He summoned more power and threw it at the columns. The ceiling started to collapse.

"Fool boy!" the wraith howled. "What are you doing? You'll kill us both!"

Harry grinned through bloodied teeth and summoned more power. It burned his veins, the runes tracking their way towards his ears and down his cheeks. "That's...the...idea." he hissed through the pain, and threw it again. Then he did it again.

The wraith screamed.

The ceiling collapsed.

Harry had time for one last draw.

"Protect." he said, and blacked out.

The last thing he saw was stones impacting against a shimmering gold shield.

Once again Harry was drawn from unconsciousness by a murmured conversation, and once again it was between Professors Dumbledore and McGonagall.

"He's only a boy, Albus. To have that much power...it boggles the mind. Do you think he will ever wake up?"

"Only time will tell, but I have great faith in Mr. Potter's strength of mind. If anyone can rebound from this, he can."

"I want to believe you, but...that room, Albus. The damage he did! The entire southern tower collapsed on that shield and it held! I..I can't fathom it."

"Neither can I, and I've been seeing hints of it for a month. Have you seen Petunia today?"

"I have." A long, pregnant pause. "She looks tired, Albus."

"I can only imagine what she must be going through."

Open your eyes, Harry.

Come on, you can do it.

Listen to me son. Open. Your damn. Eyes.

It was the last of these, the stern voice of Vernon in his head, that made him fight his eyes into opening. He blinked, the sunlight harsh, and looked around. Dumbledore and McGonagall were in two armchairs at the foot of his bed, conversing in low voices. That had stopped at the first sign of movement from him.

"Mr. Potter? Harry? Are you back with us?" Dumbledore stood and went to Harry's side. He nodded, throat too dry to speak. "God above, you gave us quite a fright. Are you thirsty?"

Harry nodded again.

"I'll fetch some water, Albus, and Poppy. She'll want to look him over now that he's awake."

Harry swallowed again and tried to speak. "How-how..."

"How long?"

He nodded.

"You've been asleep for two weeks, Mr. Potter."

Harry's mind boggled. Two weeks? His first thought was that his mum was going to kill him for missing so much class. His second thought was of his mum. He swallowed and tried again. "M...m-mum..."

"Your mother is here, Mr. Potter. She's been very worried about you. In fact, she's taken up residence here to watch over you. I'm sure she'll be ecstatic that you're awake."

Madam Pomfrey, Professor McGonagall, and Petunia stormed into the hospital in unison. Petunia had taken over water retrieval from the Scottish witch, who was in turn being quizzed by the mediwitch about everything Harry had done since waking. They made, to his recently in use ears, a rather large amount of noise. It wasn't pleasant.

Using some motherly instinct, Petunia picked up on this and shushed the other two women before bringing him the water. Using her free arm she lifted him into a somewhat upright position and held the goblet to his lips. It was the best thing he'd ever tasted.

"Harry? Sweetie?" she said, tears welling in her eyes. Why did he always make his mum cry? "How are you feeling?"

His voice was still rough, but much better than before. "Stiff. Sore. Thirsty." his stomach yowled. "Hungry."

A relieved laugh was had by all.

"I'll get you some food after I've done a diagnostic, Mr. Potter." Madam Pomfrey said before taking out her wand to do just that. He felt the magic flow over him, like he was taking a shower in a wetsuit. She frowned at her wand. "Hm...you seem to be all right. In fact, I'd say that apart from your scars you're in perfect health."

Harry mustered the energy to ask, "Scars?"

He felt Petunia's arms tightened around him and sagged into her grasp. What had happened was starting to catch up with him. He had scars. He was going to walk away with a memorial of his battle. He wasn't expecting to walk away at all. Professor McGonagall transfigured one of his pillows into a mirror for him.

His face made his jaw drop. The runes around his eyes had spread, both out and down. They covered the entirety of the skin around his eyes, reaching back to his temples, and down to the top of his cheekbones.

Then she moved the mirror down.

He had three long, thin scars across his chest. There was a wide, shiny scar on his calf. He was missing a toe. He didn't know what to expect, but...it wasn't this. This was too much, just too much for him to handle.

Harry cried in his mum's arms. Cried hard and long. She held him tight and rubbed his back until he cried himself to sleep. For some reason, even though he'd been asleep for two weeks, he was bone tired and sank gratefully into slumber.

It took Harry until mid-November to walk without a cane. His body ached every night until the end of December. His eyes hurt until January.

The nightmares hadn't stopped yet.

He thanked God every day for Neville, Hermione,and the rest of Gryffindor. They formed a shield around him and didn't let anyone bother him. If he wanted to talk, they'd talk. If he wanted to be alone, they let him be. If he wanted to cry and scream and yell, they stood and waited until he was done, then hugged him tight. His actions may have saved their lives, but theirs saved his soul.

Without Professor Quirrel to bungle Defense Against the Dark Arts, Harry discovered he actually liked the subject. The man they brought in to teach, an Auror named Roen, had both an infectious enthusiasm and incredible skill base. Harry was not alone in lamenting that he would be leaving at the year's end. Like Roen said, though, he "had an actual job to do. Not that teaching runts isn't fun, but there's bad people out there that need catching."

With Harry's recent...encounter, he couldn't agree more. He refused to speak of it, which only drove the infamous Hogwarts Rumor Mill wild with speculation. The people who knew the story, which were few and close mouthed, knew that no matter how outlandish the story was, it would pale in comparison to the truth.

Hermione's drive to study for finals was reassuring to Harry. A sign that things were coming back to normal. So when she drew up schedules and badgered him into studying until the wee hours of the morning, he just smiled and hugged her. She'd always ask why, and he'd never say.

Neither she nor anyone else mentioned the runes on his face.

Malfoy, refreshingly, left him alone. Turned out even he could get a hint. Now he sulked around with his two thugs-Harry still didn't know their names- and made vague threats about fathers and regretting this.

Harry was almost sad when the last day of term rolled around and he was looking at an empty dorm. Here was the place that he'd started figuring out who he was and what he could with his powers. He'd met the two greatest friends he'd ever had here.

He'd almost died here. Had killed here. He'd come here happy, healthy, and whole, and was leaving none of those things.

Still. He left the dorm and made his way to the Entrance Hall, where Neville and Hermione were waiting for him. His dad had told him that life was never all great or all horrible. He sort of understood now. Everything was a mixture of good and bad. If he could look back at his year and see more good than bad, he was a lucky man.

"Harry!" Neville spotted him first and waved. Hermione smiled.

Harry grinned back.

Luck? He had loads.

END CHAPTER TWO

Note: So. Yeah. That's year one. I'm trying to do a complete AU here, not just pick the parts of canon that are good and building out. So plots aren't going to be the same. There still was a Sorcerer's/Philosopher's Stone, it just wasn't important here. So, year two begins soon. Thinking of doing an interlude chapter for everybody. What do you think?

As always, reviews are welcome.