Rejuvenation
Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter, nor do I make any profits from posting this fanfiction.
Summary: Epilogue compliant. Set 2019. Harry and Ron fall into the hands of a mad 'scientist' hell bent on eternal youth. Naturally, something goes wrong in the experimental stage. His test subjects weren't too pleased about their new roles as guinea pigs. Unfortunately for all involved, there were many casualties along the way; the most important of which being the death of their former lives.
Warnings: Gender change. OC character deaths. Kidnapping. Experimentation on human; adults and children. Swearing.
Pairings: HP/OC, RW/?
Rejuvenation - Chapter 5
They had a new addition to their little group.
A few days after Ron and Cameron's ritual and change, Wollaston had come back from work with a large healers bag from which he tugged out the body of a young boy with black hair and striking grey eyes. The unconscious boy had then unknowingly endured a full examination. Harry watched as numerous bright lights settled on the boy's body from the various diagnostic spells. Once that was done the boy was placed into the warded area with Harry, Mafalda, Winnifred and Honora.
It took a while for the boy to reach consciousness again. Immediately, as any young child would, his first words were questions about where he was. Then, upon understanding the answers, he became hysterical. Wollaston had been in the room at the time and, when his demands for silence were not heeded, he proceeded to cast that jellyfish charm. It stopped the hysteria. But only because paralytic nature of the curse, along with the excruciating pain, stopped him from being able to scream.
As always Harry was the first to recover from the jellyfish curse, then Mafalda. Winifred was next along with Honora.
Serpens was last.
"My name is Serpens Black, of the Black Family line." The boy announced with as much pomp and loftiness as Draco Malfoy had all those many years ago. Harry arched his eyebrow.
"Really?" He asked and the stress he put on that word must have insulted Serpens because the boy puffed his chest up and glared defiantly at Harry.
"What's wrong with the Black Family?" The kid yelled. Harry held up his hands in surrender.
"Absolutely nothing! Nothing at all." Serpens continued to glare at him and Harry found himself sighing and expanding on his previous answer. "My godfather was a Black."
"Oh." Serpens deflated like the wind had been taken out of his self-righteous sails. "Who?"
"Sirius Black."
"I know him!" Serpens said and Harry could have groaned. He waited for the slander and insults against Sirius to start, because even though Harry had ensured Sirius' name was cleared he was still infamous for escaping Azkaban and for many other reasons. Serpens surprised him though, "My Grandfather got blasted off the family tree by Great Aunt Walburga because he helped my Uncle Sirius to leave the family."
"Really?" Harry asked sceptically as he tried to think of who had been blasted off the family tree on the wall at Grimmauld Place. He did remember somebody…Sirius had mentioned an uncle at some point helping him.
"Yes! Grandfather said it was the best thing he ever did! Well…or at least that's what Dad says Grandfather said. Grandfather's been dead a long time, I didn't even know him. But I know of him. Dad says we should always know our family history, so we know what to do in hard times and what not to do. Or something like that!"
Harry smiled a little at Serpens' enthusiasm, the name of the Uncle that Sirius had mentioned coming back to him. "Was your Grandfather Alphard?"
"Yes! That's him."
"The family tree didn't show him as having any children from what I remember."
"No." Serpens agreed with a slow and careful intonation of the word. "Dad says Grandfather kept his family a secret from the rest of the Black family. It's because Grandmother was a blood traitor and he didn't want to be disinherited. It happened anyway but that was after Grandfather died and left his inheritance to Grandmother. Dad says that Grandmother said that Great Aunt Walburga was ballistic because she didn't get any money from him. She blasted him off the tree for that! Dad's quite proud of it actually and it was one of Grandmother's favourite stories until she died."
Serpens kept talking about his family and other things well into the night. The little boy was enthusiastic about his family members and was more than happy to just keep talking. Harry wondered if it was a nervous thing because Serpens kept fidgeting and occasionally looked around the room anxiously. It could just have been that the boy was trying to distract himself from the situation; and what better way to do that than to try to immerse yourself in a bubble of happy memories. Harry whole heartedly encouraged the boy, Ron or Cameron goaded him into more stories and Winnifred, Mafalda and Honora played the audience.
"Hahah! Yes. Finally!" Wollaston cheered and then all but ran over to the work desk and began riffling through items. Harry felt his mouth go dry in dismay as he realised that Wollaston had pulled the salt packet he used for all the other rituals.
"Oh no." Honora whispered, horror etched on her face.
"What? What is it? What's going on?!" Serpens asked with panic in his voice.
Winnifred started crying and curled into a ball hugging her knees close to her chest. Mafalda sat down heavily and when Harry glanced at her he could see the light dying in her eyes. He closed his eyes and gritted his teeth against the tears.
"Harry?" Harry opened his eyes and looked at Ron…Cameron in the containment area near them. Cameron offered a grim smile. No words were really necessary. If it was Harry that was chosen then he would deal with it. If he died, it wasn't like that hadn't been on the card before. If it wasn't him then he would deal with that too. In the meantime he couldn't leave the children to suffer through their dread, their fear and their grief alone.
Harry nodded to Ron and then turned away. He grabbed Honora by the arm as he passed her and pulled her with him. She went like a rag doll just allowing herself to be pulled along. He also grabbed Serpens by the sleeve and dragged him along. The boy protested and struggled but all protests quelled beneath Harry's sharp look. The boy shivered and followed. Harry dragged them over to the two girls and pulled them to sit down with him. Winnifred cuddled into Honora while Harry pulled Mafalda to him and tried his best to comfort her. Serpens looked like he was trying to stay strong on his own but then he twisted so he could bury his face in Harry's neck. Harry felt his neck start to get damp and knew the boy had started to cry. He carefully patted the boy's back hoping to comfort him while all the while stroking Mafalda's hair.
They waited in silence. Together and with each other but in painful, dreadful silence. They could hear Wollaston lay out the salt. They heard him scratch out a few runes. They heard him get the potions organised. Then they heard him rehearsing the words and knew it was time.
"Will it hurt?" Came a whisper. Harry glanced down; which one had asked that?
"Pardon?" He asked and it was Mafalda who lifted her head and stared at him with those silver moss eyes that had dulled and bleached still further.
She opened her mouth and repeated her question in barely more than a whisper that still echoed around their little group. "Will it hurt?"
"Will what hurt? The ritual?" Harry clarified.
"Dying."
Oh. That. Harry thought about how best to answer. But Honora got there first.
"I don't know. I've never died." The woman said and Mafalda slumped. Harry swallowed painfully as Serpens gave a great shuddering whimper and buried his face in Harry's neck more.
Then Harry remembered. He carefully pushed Serpens away and gave the boy a comforting pat on his shoulder just to tide him over. Harry silently begged for the boys patience a moment then he reached out and carefully crooked his finger underneath Mafalda's chin and lifted it up so she could meet his eyes. With absolutely seriousness Harry repeated the words he had once been told.
"It's quicker than falling asleep." He said, clearly and definitely. He left no room for doubt in his eyes or his face. He kept his expression as earnest and as truthful as he could. Mafalda's pale eyes searched his face. They flicked all over searching and looking. Then the girl nodded and slumped a little.
"Then I see mummy and Sigmund?" She asked and Harry smiled tearfully.
"Yes, yes they will." Mafalda nodded again and then slowly lay herself back down so her head was resting on Harry's knee. Harry stroked her hair gently again and invited Serpens back in for another hug.
"Do you see your family when you die?" Winnifred asked.
"I don't know. I think so." Honora answered with as much clarity as a cotton wool bud.
"Yes." He answered without guile. "Yes you do."
"How do you know?" Winnifred asked and Harry couldn't bring himself to lie.
"I died once. It was only for a few minutes."
"What happened?" Winnifred asked with wide hazel eyes.
"I found myself at Kings Cross with my old Headmaster. He was the closest thing to a Grandfather I had ever known."
"King's Cross? The station?" Honora asked with astonishment.
"Yes. Everything was white and it looked like a very clean Kings Cross station to me. My headmaster, Albus Dumbledore, said he didn't recognise the place so I suppose it could have been anywhere really. Anyway, he was waiting for me there. When I died he was waiting for me. Only I didn't stay dead so I had to leave." Harry offered the abridged versions of events.
"Why weren't your mum and dad there?" Honora asked.
"Because as much as I loved my mum and dad, I didn't really know them. It was probably a good thing that Professor Dumbledore was there. He was always talking about the next great adventure happening after death. Maybe he would have shown me which train to take to get to my family." Harry offered, making things up and elaborating truths. "The point is, when you die, somebody will be waiting for you. Somebody you love. Somebody you trust."
"I wonder who I will see." Honora whispered and got a contemplative look on her face. Her comment sparked something in the children though, something remarkably akin to hope. Which was odd really. Being hopeful about who you might meet on the other side when you died. Morbid and depressing, were two words Harry would have used. But then again, after everything they had endured; the stress, torture, neglect, starvation, the dread of waiting for one's death to arrive - was it any wonder that something like that would come as a relief?
"My Grandfather and Grandmother will be waiting for me." Serpens said firmly and looked around at them all. "I just know they will. I'll get to finally meet my Grandfather! And Grandmother will give me one of her hugs and maybe a cookie when I get there!"
"My mummy and Sigmund and Herbert my puffskien." Mafalda mentioned.
"Nobody in my family has died. Nobody will be there for me." Winnifred answered sullenly and Harry felt the mood drop.
"Mafalda's mummy will be waiting for you." He said, trying to sound absolutely certain. "And Isolde will be waiting, and Max, Anabelle, Jimmy, Holly and Eloise."
"And don't forget Daniel!" Honora said quickly and Harry smiled and nodded. Winnifred smiled too looking a little happier.
"And don't forget Nessa and Poppy too!" Mafalda listed some more names Harry hadn't heard until just then. Harry supposed Nessa and Poppy were other victims of Wollaston that Mafalda knew. After all the little girl was with Wollaston long before Harry was.
"Exactly. So we will each have lots of people!" Serpens chirped with his usual enthusiasm.
"What about you Honora?" Winnifred asked.
"I'll have my mum and dad and sister I think. It's been a long time since I've seen them. They died when I was young." Honora announced and the children grinned.
"Then they will definitely be waiting for you!" Winnifred announced.
"Thank you Winnif-"
"Right then! All ready!" Wollaston said and before Harry could even turn around to glance at the man pain shot through his body and sent him slamming to the floor. "Now then, let's see. You! And…you!"
The ground started to fall away…moving further and further away and Harry shut his eyes so he could concentrate on his breathing and try to escape the panic that was rising. Him. Wollaston had chosen him! Harry took a sharp breath and opened his eyes, trying to fight the curse that virtually paralysed him. He turned as best he could while being levitated and searched for the child who was in the ritual with him.
Mafalda.
Mafalda floated just a little way away. The girl looked calm. Her face was relaxed and her eyes stayed locked on his.
"No!" Harry yelled, forcing the word through the paralysis. It was wearing off; either that or Harry's body could just handle curses a lot better than most. He started to struggle, not willing to gracefully accept this. There was the chance he could stop it, if he could get free he might just have enough time to interrupt the salt circle and maybe scrub out one of the runes chalked into the floor. Maybe he could…maybe…
But as strong as he was he couldn't shake off the paralysis completely and once he was enclosed in his own salt circle and lowered to the floor something seemed to hold his body down. He couldn't move under the pressure pinning him to the floor. It was like something was trying to suck him down onto it. He had no hope of moving. He could only roll his head to the side and look at what was happening around him.
Wollaston was pacing, finishing the preparations. The others were watching from their place behind the war. Serpens and Winnifred cuddling into Honora. Cameron was stood making frantic, angry arm gestures and shouting.
And Mafalda just lay there with a relaxed, accepting and patient look. She just lay there. Those silver moss eyes watching him exuding calmness and serenity in a way that was so wrong given the circumstances. How could she be so accepting of it? He wasn't and he had done this before! He had died before!
Maybe that was the problem. He knew with absolute certainty that he would die when he walked into that forest. He knew. He absolutely knew that Voldemort would kill him. But this time there was a huge chance he wouldn't die. What happened to Ron and Cameron could very well happen to him. His soul extracted from him and put into Mafalda's body, while her soul perished.
Somehow Harry found the thought that he might live on far more terrible than the idea of him dying.
Mafalda's expression didn't change though. It didn't. Not at all. She remained absolutely calm and still. Harry wasn't. He felt like a mess, an angry and helpless mess.
"No! Wollaston don't do this! Don't!"
"Shut up! Or do I have to spell you silent?!" Wollaston demanded and cast his absolutely favourite curse at Harry. Harry's world exploded and all his muscles seized in paralysis. Harry hated that box jellyfish curse. Hated it! It was nearly as bad as cruciatus except it held you still to endure the endless, burning pain like a hundred thousand burning hot knives trying to stab into your body. He would learn the name of the curse and put an arrest on it! And maybe a taboo on the incantation. And then anyone who used it would be arrested!
"Animus excipio…" Began Wollaston's stream of Latin words in the chant that would begin the dreaded ritual. Harry's eyes slid closed with despair and tears leaked down his face.
It was starting. Nothing could be done now. He had failed at everything; at protecting everybody, at saving them, at stopping Wollaston. He had failed. There had been no chance of escape, failure was inevitable. But knowing that didn't make accepting defeat easier. He's lost and Wollaston had won. Harry was going to lose everything! His Ginny, his kids…his life…everything.
Icy cold began to creep up on him. Cool just whispering at him at first. Then the temperature dropped again and the chilliness turned into a coldness that seemed to cling to his skin. Frost began to prickle the edges of his skin, like tiny little needles trying to get in.
Harry didn't want to think about that any more than he wanted to think about his defeat, his failure, and what he was going to lose. Harry opened his eyes and looked over to Mafalda. The little girl was laid on her side, a white cloud puffing from her lips because of the cold surrounding them. Her little spring time dress would be no match for the chill. Harry bet that if Mafalda wasn't paralysed by the spell then she would be shivering by now. Especially since the temperature dropped again to frigid levels. The intense cold just made their situation seem worse and seemed to make the ritual feel like it lasted for an eternity. It was like that horrible foreboding you got when a dementor approached, the feeling that something horribly bad was going to happen and that you would never be happy again.
Well they wouldn't be happy again, Harry was sure of it. Not after this ritual that would ruin their lives. Merlin, and he hadn't been able to stop this from happening. He should have! But he hadn't! And now…now they were all going to pay.
He could barely bring himself to look at Mafalda's face and eyes. He expected to see condemnation and blame. He expected her to be looking at him with all the accusations and hatred in the world because he had failed her and now here she was…in a death ritual.
Mafalda was looking at him. But there was no criticism or insults in her eyes. Those shining silver green eyes, were pale and still. The calmness was so perfect that Harry was loath to drop a pebble into the lake, loath to bring the storm that was brewing inside of him anywhere near the girl's tranquillity. But he had to say something. He had to.
"I'm sorry. I'm so sorry." The words may have been swallowed up by the noises Wollaston was making. The words might not have actually been as loud as Harry had perceived them to be. They might have even been nothing more than a whisper. He might even have made enough noise to have shouted them. Harry didn't know really, because a roaring was starting in his ears; a sort of rushing that sounded a lot like the smashing of an unsettled sea on jagged rocks.
Mafalda did seem to hear though, or understand the sentiment though.
She smiled.
In the situation they were in, with her facing certain death, with all the horrors she had seen lately…and the little girl smiled.
"Look after me when I fall asleep?" She asked. Her words were quiet but he heard them over the rising tide. Fall asleep…easier than falling asleep.
"Of course." He muttered as tears fell from his eyes. One ran over the bridge of his nose then fell off onto the caret instead of running down the other side of his face.
"Mummy and Sigmund are waiting?" She asked just to double check and Harry choked out a bitter laugh but gave her a small reassuring smile.
"Yes, yes they are." He said and the girl smiled more.
"Thank you for looking after me." She said those words like he had welcomed her into his house for a while to play. Like she had just been to a friend's house and was thanking them for having her. She made it sound so simple.
But it wasn't! It wasn't simple! The reality was horrible! Horrible! She was going to die, just like the other children had and there was nothing he could do to save her! He hadn't been able to save any of them! None of them at all! It was all his fault!
"I'm so sorry." He said again, pleading with her to accept his words. The noises he could hear were louder now. A lot louder. The roaring nearly filled his hearing up.
"Why?" She asked, frowning.
"For not looking after you better."
"You are the best…" The girl said but the rest of her words were lost. Rushing filled his ears nearly deafening with the intensity and noise of it. Merlin! If Harry had ever been to a beech during a storm…this would be what it would sound like. Wave after wave after wave! It swallowed all other sound. It ate up every other vibration. It drowned his concentration until he could only know the waves and nothing else. There was only that crashing, smashing of water upon a shore. The beating of something fluid smashing against something immovable and solid.
Like something slopping around…beating against the walls of its enclosure.
Like something screaming to get out but couldn't!
Harry choked back a sob. That too was lost in the cacophony of sound but he felt it across his body. His soul was trying to get out. Harry could feel it.
It was time.
Here he was yet again at the close.
Harry didn't want it this time. He didn't want to just stand there and take it like he did last time. He knew he couldn't move but he didn't want to just lie there and take it while Wollaston took his soul. It was his and his alone! And he might have failed everybody but he wasn't just going to give up! He wasn't institutionalised, he hadn't grown used to being held in captivity! He wasn't tamed or a push over! He hadn't had an opportunity to stop any of this happening before but he might be able to now. Now he had an opportunity! He might not succeed, it might not work, it might kill him! But he wasn't going to make Wollaston's job easy! He wasn't going to just roll over and submit! He wouldn't! He hadn't to Voldemort and he wouldn't to some lesser insane being either!
No.
No he wouldn't give in.
The roaring got louder. Impossibly the noise became more deafening that it was before. The echoing thunders resounded in his hearing, deafening him to all else except the all-consuming racket. It ebbed occasionally then came back with a vengeance, louder and more insistent than before.
But Harry wouldn't drop his resolve.
Not even when a ringing started in his ears. Not even when his vision started to blur. Not even when the freezing temperatures made it feel like ice cubes were stabbing their way into his body. He wouldn't even give in when he felt light headed, when his thoughts became floaty and light. He wouldn't give in. He calmed his resolve.
Another noise added to the din he could hear. A near frantic beating, like a drummer beating his drum faster and faster and faster. Faster and faster, growing louder and louder too!
An ache started in his chest, soreness and straining. Harry wondered how he could even feel his body when the noises were so consuming that it ate some of his thoughts too.
Then his throat started to pulse a little. Like it was gasping but not…
Breathing. Harry wasn't breathing. He was holding his breath so he could concentrate more. But he needed to breath now. His body was telling him to breath.
But the noises was riotous! It was so loud it could pierce his ear drums. And he didn't want to give in! He wouldn't accept his soul being taken away from him. He wouldn't!
Harry steeled his resolve as much as he could. He needed a breath or he would fall unconscious and lose the fight anyway. He couldn't afford to do that. He needed to breathe and keep fighting!
Breathe and…
Harry took a huge lungful of air.
Then reflectively, his body expelled the air immediately unable to cope with only that one breath of oxygen and preparing to take more.
Harry once nearly all the air was gone Harry felt ready to take a last breath of air and hold it to help him with his fight.
But sound battered him. It pierced his ears, resounded around his body and deafened his thoughts. He couldn't hear himself think. He couldn't remember what he had been thinking. He couldn't….it was just so loud! So LOUD! It was overwhelming! What was it? What was he thinking? Something to do with air? Oh good Merlin, he couldn't think! The crashes and thunderous clamour was too much. What? What was it? Air?
Air?
Breathing! That was it breathing.
He had to take a breath.
Then breathe out and…ooooh the sound got quieter!
Breath in…
And out.
Out.
Out…
Harry felt weightless, soundless, sightless. He had been lying on the floor hadn't he? But he couldn't feel it. He couldn't feel anything. Not even the air. Can you feel air? He couldn't feel the cold. But he had been cold. So very cold.
At least the roaring had stopped. Now there was nothing. Nothing at all. No sound. Not the whisper of fabric across skin. Not the sound of the wind lightly rustling leaves. Not the sound of somebody talking. Nothing. Nobody.
Not even the sound of breathing. Was he breathing?
Was he?
He had been.
But he wasn't. He didn't need to.
He had no chest. No lungs, no throat, no mouth. He didn't need to breathe because he…
He didn't have form. No form.
He couldn't move. There was nothing to move. Nothing.
Everything was gone. Absolutely gone.
He didn't feel panicked. Not really. But he didn't feel calm either. It was like…like something in between. It was strange. Harry just…was. He was just there, in the nothingness.
Being in the nothingness was like…was like…Harry didn't really know. Nothing had felt like it before. It felt like he had been there forever and at the same time only been there a few seconds. There was no concept of time and nothing to tell the passing of time with. Harry tried to count it out but how long was a second? One hippopotamus, two hippopotam…but how did he know he was thinking that as a proper amount of time. Harry didn't know. He didn't really need to know he supposed.
There was nothing to worry you in the nothingness. No worries, no cares, no pains, no loves, no hates, no wishes…No nothing.
It was just nothing.
But Harry could remember, he could remember what he had cared about. He had cared a great deal about a great many things and about a great many people.
But it didn't matter now. Nothing did. All that existed was nothing.
Absolutely nothing.
Until something gave him a shove.
Harry stumbled. How, he didn't know because he had no form so he hadn't been standing. Nevertheless he felt something push him. What though?!
It happened again. Harry tried to look around and see but he couldn't see anything and there was nothing to turn.
Again.
Again and again and again whatever it was pushed him.
Harry would have frowned if he could have. What was pushing him?! What was forcing him to…?
Harry remembered. Wollaston. Wollaston the crazy healer who messed with people's souls and murdered people. He was trying to force Harry to…well Harry wasn't going to let him. Not even when Harry was in the nothingness and Wollaston was somewhere else! Harry wouldn't let Wollaston control him! Or he'd at least make it very, very, hard for the insane healer to do so.
Harry struggled. He shook off the uncaring calm and tranquil state he'd fallen into and embraced all his anger, his passion and his absolute determination with as much strength as he could. When that invisible force pushed him Harry pushed back.
The force pulled away abruptly, as if shocked. Then it came back with a vengeance and Harry had to struggle harder. It was like tug of war only the other way around; pushing instead of pulling. Like…like wrestling! Like wrestling each trying to tackle the other and wrestle them into compliance or submitting.
It was like those two beads on the string between his and Voldemort's wands. Harry knew if the bead went inside his wand it would be over…but if he could get it into Voldemort's wand…well.
But where was he supposed to be going? What was he supposed to be going to? Not a wand surely! He wasn't magic. He was a person. So where was he being pushed to? Even in the nothingness where there was nothing he was being pushed towards something. What? What was it?
What?
No. That was the wrong question.
Not what.
Who? Who was he being pushed towards?
Somebody…it was…
Mafalda!
He was being pushed towards Mafalda! No! No he wouldn't go! He wasn't going to help some insane old quack kill of that little girl then imprison Harry within her. No way! No! Not a chance!
Harry pushed back harder. He pushed and he fought. He wasn't going to lose! He wasn't! He wasn't.
Push, push, push, push, push…
It never ended. Just like that horrible rushing sound that Harry had head before! That must have been when Wollaston was pulling his soul out of his body. That's why the sound was there! And now he was pushing! Pushing and pushing and pushing! Harry wouldn't give up this time though. He might have lost against the roaring before but he wouldn't lose against the pushing.
Push, push, push…
Harry pushed back as hard as he could. He didn't know if he was gaining any ground but he fought. He fought like crazy.
Push, push, push, push, yank, yank, yank, yank, yank!
It felt like he was winning. The force was still trying hard but it felt like Harry was winning. If felt like it…
Shhhhh…..
What?
Shhhhhhhhh…
Harry tried to listen. He could hear a noise. Hear? Hearing? He wasn't deaf anymore?
SSSSSHHHHHHH….
That noise…he'd heard that noise before…that was.
SSSSHHHH SHHHHH SHHHHH…..
That was like waves onto sand….like waves onto rocks! That was the sound he had heard earlier when Wollaston had tried to steal his soul away from his body!
That must mean he was winning! He was going back on himself! He was winning! The force tried to yank him again. Harry shoved hard trying to get closer to the source of the hissing, crashing wave noises. Trying to get louder to it! Trying with all his might.
Harry threw himself against the force and then fell down.
And down and down and down.
The crashing of waves grew louder until it was a devastatingly loud thunderous roar of water smashing against anything and everything in his way. It was like the noise of water from a gigantic waterfall into its drop pool below. The roar and slamming of water against stone.
It was deafening!
But Harry could hear. He could hear. There wasn't that deafness like in the nothingness. There was something; there was sound!
And then there was light!
The clamouring of water, the impatient rush of it as it moved against something still, began to lessen. The volume decreased. And as it left some light began shining. Harry could see it. That meant he had eyes. Eyes! He could hear and he could see and…
And he could feel. He could feel the cold, he could feel the ground, he could feel the brush of his clothes against his skin. He could feel the socks on his feet that always refused to stay up. He could feel the shoes over the tops of them, his broken shoes that needed repairing badly but there was never time. He could feel his hair tickling his neck and his elbows. He could feel one of his arms getting squashed by his ribs from where he was lying on it.
He could feel his breathing. HE could hear it too now, the noise of the rushing water receding to just the slightest of slopping noises. Thank Merlin that was over. Harry didn't like water much. He liked the wind in the trees as he ran through them trying not to be seen by mummy because she was all muddy again. He liked the wind in his ears as he streaked through the air on his broom, and like the time he rode Buckbeak the Hippogryff, and those Thestrals and Claudia the Abraxan.
The noise was barely there at all now. He couldn't even hear it slopping around anymore, which was great. It meant everything was finally at an end.
Even the nothingness that hadn't been so bad was at an end. Harry was glad it was over. He didn't like nothingness really, it was boring. He'd much rather be doing things. Keeping busy. Running around, cleaning up, helping out, casting spells, having duels, anything. Anything was better than doing nothing. Doing nothing was for when you were ill.
Harry blinked, the light beginning to bother his eyes. They felt dry. But as he blinked them he felt the movement disturb his forehead and pain shot through it. Oh ow! Owie owie owie! Headache! He had a headache! It hurt!
Harry moaned and reached his hands up to hold his head. Owwwwwwww!
"Ah finally! You are more trouble than you are worth you wretched….grrr never mind. It's done now. Although I had half a mind to cast you out rather than continuing!"
Huh? What? Ohh owwwwww!
"Get up! Up I say!" Hands gripped Harry and he found himself being yanked upright hard.
"OOOWWW!" He cried as it sent more pain through his head. He blinked to try to see what on earth was going on.
And there, right in front of him, was Wollaston.
Harry just reacted.
"Murderer!" He screamed and threw his head forwards with all his might. There was a satisfying crack but Harry wasn't sure whether it was Wollaston's nose or Harry's head because the pain trebled inside his head.
The hands holding him up dropped away and a bellow sounded through the air followed by a howl of pain, an angry curse and then a hard and heavy blow to Harry's stomach.
Harry curled up trying to protect himself from the blow. Another one came anyway, whacking him in the shins and then one more to his head. Blackness swam in his vision instantly along with blue and silver spots of changing colour. He felt sick, he felt hurt, he felt hot and he felt weird…really weird.
He didn't like it. The weird feeling was scary.
It was fainting…it was losing consciousness.
Harry didn't care, it was scary. He wanted it all to go away! All of it.
"You! You are lucky I need you alive as evidence of my success otherwise you can be damned sure I would kill you on the spot you vicious little animal!" Wollaston growled and large hands grabbed Harry again.
Harry wanted to fight against the grip but he was weak. The most he managed was a weak kick that hit the man somewhere and had him grunt in pain then more pain exploded across Harry's cheek.
"You little ingrate!" Wollaston snarled and Harry felt himself be thrown against something wooden and angular.
Harry had to fight hard to direct his gaze to it only to find it was a chair and that, the next second, he was tied to it with magical ropes. Harry flicked his eyes to Wollaston who was, oddly, a lot taller than Harry remembered. He was still a bastard though! An absolute, conniving, horrible, mean old man with fuzzy hair and yucky teeth.
"Open up so I can get my answers then I'll put you back in your cage where you belong!" Wollaston said and fingers gripped the sides of Harry's jaw. Harry saw the man held the little bottle of veritaserum in his other hand. Angrily Harry turned his head and tried to bite at Wollaston's fingers. He caught one too and bit down hard.
It earned him another slap across the face.
"ANIMAL! I should put you down where you stand for being a wild beast!"
"And when my aurors catch you they're going to lock you up in the deepest cell in Azkaban for being a murderous, insane old bat!" Harry yelled back, his voice oddly high pitched with his anger and feeling.
Wollaston got a glint in his narrowed sparkly eyes. He stared at Harry and part of Harry wanted to squirm while the other half wanted to glare back. Harry glared back.
"I will not get arrested you blathering idiot! I will be praised and immortalised for my additions to magical medicine and my cure for growing older will put me down in the history books!"
"No it won't. You'll get locked up because you are insane and then people will come in and burn all your research up because it's too abhorrent to exist. They will destroy everything! And you will go to Azkaban with all the other bad men!"
Wollaston's sparkly eyes got even more sparkly. Harry didn't like it one little bit. It wasn't like Albus Dumbledore's sparkle. Professor Dumbledore was a brilliant man who did the best he could for everyone and the sparkle in his eyes was because he was so chirpy all the time and so knowledgeable. Wollaston's sparkle wasn't like that…it wasn't nice. Wollaston wasn't a very nice man.
"Oh really. It's where all the bad men go is it?" Wollaston sneered, the sneer looking worse with the river of blood running down his chin and neck from his obviously broken nose. "Then tell me, do you know where bad little girl's go?! They go back in their cages!"
Harry was thrown backwards, chair and all. He screamed, he knew he did. The chair, completely out of his control, was flung backwards and he was going to hit something! IT was like the time he fell off his broom! Like when he fell backwards out of his treehouse! Daddy had needed to put a cushioning charm on the ground so if it happened again Harry wouldn't break his ribs! It was like being hit with Expelliarmus during duelling and flying back hard into the wall! The slam was hard enough to wind you and make you understand you never, ever, wanted to get caught by it again.
The impact happened. The bottom of the chair hit something first, then fell backwards and Harry hit his back. But the chair bounced and Harry was hit again, then just had to put up with the friction burn down his arms from where the ground rubbed him as he skidded.
Just as, winded, hurt and disorientated, Harry and his chair came to a halt, and then they hit something that had them flying forwards again. The wind told many warnings as it swept through Harry's hair and as the ground came up to meet Harry directly in the face Harry could just close his eyes and wait for the impact to happen.
"Bloody hell that was absolutely amazing!" Ron cried for the umpteenth time in only a few short minutes. Harry spared his friend barely more than a glare because his head and face hurt so much that he couldn't' configure his facial expression much more than that. Ron didn't seem to care though, just burst into laughter. "Oh you should have seen the look on Wollaston's face when you broke his nose! Oooh oh but the best was when you bit his fingers! I swear I thought his eyes were going to pop out of their sockets! It was bloody brilliant!"
"Yes Ron." Harry said wearily.
"Ron please stop talking. Winnifred and Serpens have only just fallen asleep and I don't want them to wake up!" Honora pleaded. Harry spared the woman a small glance. She had a soft and caring look on her face even as she reprimanded Ron. Ron at least looked a little bashful at the reprimand and stopped talking. Honora nodded and looked at Harry. "How are you feeling now?"
"Sore. Very sore." Harry hedged.
"Hmm." Honora hummed, accepting Harry's refusal to give a more detailed account of his health.
"It's weird isn't it? To be in these bodies instead of our own." Ron offered and Harry shut his eyes as if that would be enough to shut away the world.
"Yes, thank you Ron. I didn't exactly need reminding!"
"Yeah well it's not like you can ignore it either! Seriously mate, pretending it didn't happen won't change a bloody thing! Believe me, I know! I've been stuck in Cameron's body for way longer than you've been in Mafalda's."
And there was the crux of the matter.
For all that Harry had fought, for all that he had tried to stop Wollaston, he had lost. Wollaston had successfully transferred Harry's soul into Mafalda's body and let Mafalda's soul just blink out of existence.
Now Harry was in an eleven year old girl's malnutrition, half starved, badly beaten up body, with all of the girl's memories and more painful wounds than a poor little child should ever receive at the hands of another being. Harry, in less than five minutes, of being in Mafalda's body, had successfully managed to cut open the girl's head, create a large egg-like swelling there, bruised cheeks with swelling closing up her eyes, cuts to the insides of her cheeks where being slapped had caused the skin to break when it sliced over her teeth. There was also the internal bruising from when Wollaston kicked her, the fractured ribs if Harry could judge by the amount of pain he was in, the other dark and painfully deep bruises from the beating, then there was the bumps, bruises and not to mention friction burns. And all that was before Wollaston had caused her to rebound off the back of the containment ward and land on her head which had not only caused another most terrific bump and cut, if Ron's murmuring's of awe were anything to go by, but also a bad concussion.
Harry was not happy.
But then to top it off was the memories. He could remember everything Mafalda had experienced in her life. And it wasn't even like accessing a strange set of memories, like stepping into a pensieve. Harry could remember the memories and what he felt at the time and thought at the time and…and it wasn't like they were Mafalda's memories at all. They were Harry's. They were Harry's memories. They were his…only they had been hers when they were made. Harry remembered them as her.
Tears welled up in his eyes.
He had failed Mafalda. He had failed to protect her and now this. He knew she didn't blame him, knew that actually Mafalda loved him like she loved her uncles and aunts and adult friends who worked on the farm at home. He knew Mafalda didn't think of it as failure on Harry's part. But Harry saw it as failure and it hurt!
It hurt his heart.
And his head hurt, and his chest hurt, and his tummy, and arms and back and…Ow! Everything hurt so much! He wanted his daddy.