The pain pushed Harry past his limits; his heart hurt and it shouldn't hurt. It was as if someone had impaled him with a red-hot spear right through the chest. Such a thing should kill him and yet he was still suffering the wound and the agony. As much as he wished he could be strong, tears leaked out his eyes. He sucked in harsh breaths, bit on his lips, and gripped at whoever's hands were around, but nothing changed the agony.

It wasn't just pain. He was sick. His body was too hot. Sweat slicked all over him.

After the shock of Dumbledore's patronus, he tried to keep up with the conversations happening around him. He focused on breathing, on the bare minimum, unable to do anything else.

"Oh Harry…" Hermione whispered at his side, curled on the bed. He didn't dare move again, just twitching his head in her direction. Sweat was running down his neck. He found her head now resting beside his on the pillow, eyes wide as she took in his condition and, crucially, his suffering. "It should be me like this, not you."

Of all the mistakes he made that day, leading his friends into such danger, the one he couldn't regret was putting himself in Dolohov's line of fire. He deserved to be struck down for making such poor judgements. If anyone had been more than hurt, if the unthinkable had happened because he fell for Voldemort's trick, he knew he'd be unable to live with himself.

Yet living with the physical pain in his chest was proving to be a challenge beyond him. As he sucked in the air, he struggled to hold onto consciousness. He tried to reach for Sirius or Remus, their voices becoming muffled.

A rough hand took his again but it wasn't Sirius's. It was far rougher, scarred and larger. Harry tried to clear his vision as a face swam up close to him.

"Don't fight it, Harry. You're burning up what little magic Sirius gave you by staying awake. You need to rest."

Remus's calm voice helped ease him a little. Harry took in as deep a breath as he could, small whimpers escaping him. He was too far gone to care.

"I'll be right here." Hermione said to him on his right. Her fingers brushed over his face, pushing his fringe back so he could see her. "I'm not leaving your side, especially not after tonight."

She leaned over him, her hair touching him as she kissed his cheek. Harry sighed out his breath, letting go. The soft touch of Hermione's lips on his skin followed him down into a faint. Their voices turned into disjointed rumbles and drones as he closed his eyes.

Just as he passed out after the curse ripped through him. Flickers made it through. The small blips of consciousness came between larger gaps of nothingness. There was sound, a voice close to him. His eyelids flickered, but he lacked the strength now to open his eyes. A hand tipped his head back a little.

"Shush… it's okay. It's just something for the pain."

Something dripped into Harry's open mouth, something that tasted of mint and fennel. His tongue was immediately numb as fingers rubbed against his throat, encouraging him to swallow. He did, the moment sending hot pain through him. He shivered, losing sense of where he was. A gentle hand brushed over his face.

"Close your eyes… just breathe…"

A cloth of some sort wiped at his mouth. Harry spaced as sweat and saliva were cleared, struggling to even do the simple task of breathing.

"... causing undue suffering to keep him like this. He needs healing - beyond that we can achieve from a bottle!"

"Quiet, Sirius. You're disturbing him."

The angry voices dimmed away. He sunk away from them, falling back into a wash of grey. At his side, a flair of deep warmth soothed him, burning like the embers in a hearth.

"Rest, Harry. You can heal yourself in your sleep." Hermione's soft voice urged him. Her fingers curled through his hair, sending him at once back to sleep.

Dreams found him then.

He fell, stomach lurching, glass raining down with him as he dropped down into a pit. He landed hard before crawling across the broken stone, barely able to drag himself over the shards of glass.

She was there, waiting. Alone upon the plinth, the crumbling arch with the veil swaying in the phantom breeze. Hermione rushed to the edge, reaching down for him.

"Harry, come on. It's not far."

Glass stabbed into his scrambling hands as he heaved himself towards her. He was so tired, so exhausted. Each effort was too much. His heart felt like it was burning him up from the inside.

"Just take my hand-."

Harry pushed himself up off the floor but then collapsed down, his heart ablaze. He couldn't make it. He shuddered on the floor, looking up at Hermione, his strength leaving him. Her face swam in his vision, hazing over.

"Don't give up…" She said before her voice distorted.

He managed to put all his strength into a lunge. Reaching up, his bloodied hand clasped around Hermione's. She smiled and pulled him from the pain… the glass crunching under him as he lifted upwards. Hermione's arms gathered him up. She smiled, her face pale and wan, but her eyes were bright.

"Come with me… to a place where there is no pain and no more running…"

Hand in hers, he let her guide him towards the arch. Following her through the veil, pleasant white light filled his vision. A smile stretched over his face as he came away, weightless and free.

Soft light poked through his eyelids, a light akin to the one in his dream. Gradually, he came back to the world of the living. Slowly, he regained his senses, his body too relaxed than it had any right to be. Pulling his eyelids back over dry, gummy eyes, the muted soft glow of charmed lights graced his vision. He let out as long a breath as he could, finding the pain in his chest diminished but still there.

From the numbness in his hands and feet, he gathered that his reprieve from the pain wasn't natural. He recalled having a potion dripped into his mouth, something strong enough to mute pain. He never received something of its type in the Hospital Wing before. Distantly, he wondered why. As he blinked upwards, knowing better than to move and ruining his relief, he felt warmth coming from his side. A glance to his right revealed Hermione. Her face was burrowed into the pillow next to him. She still wore her robes, dusty and torn from the fight they survived. Her breathing was soft and slow, sleeping at his side. Harry looked down, finding his arm wrapped in hers. He didn't move it, just staring at her.

His actions told him something that his head hadn't come to terms with. He acted from the heart when he saw her in danger, not thinking for a second, just that he had to do whatever it took to protect her. It was an instinct that overruled all reason. The thought of losing Sirius had him rushing into danger, but he still listened to sense, still had gone to check if his vision was real or fallacy. The sheer idea of Hermione being in danger made him act without a single care for his own life.

With his heart struggling to keep beating steadily in his chest, he never had been more sure of where it lay. He was in such a bad way because he loved her. He threw himself in the way of a curse to protect her because he simply could not think of a world without her in it. It was so simple, a law that he somehow made for himself without knowing it was there. Yet, he felt as if he'd always known. Hadn't he once jumped on a troll's back to give her time to get to safety? Didn't he lose his mind during the Second Task of the Triwizard Tournament the moment he found not just Ron in danger but Hermione too?

He drew in a sharp breath. It became so very clear. Why everyone had been so baffled at his behaviour during that task. He threw it all on the line to save people. He had practically no self-preservation instincts in the heat of the moment. It was do or die, yet he didn't appear to care much if he did die. Death didn't scare him… but the death of others. Nothing terrified him more than loss.

His greatest weakness… and his enemies knew it. He would sooner die than see someone he cared about get hurt in front of him.

Suddenly, it scared him.

"What is wrong with me?" Harry found himself blurting out loud. His voice was slurred and quiet, but he hadn't meant to speak. It was enough to wake up Hermione who gave a muffled groan. She then quickly woke up, lifting her head to look at Harry.

Her mouth opened slightly, staring at Harry with wide eyes. She then looked around, appearing confused for a moment, before she sat up. There was some care in how she released Harry's arm, not that it mattered when he had barely any feeling in the limb at all.

"Try not to move. I'll get you some water." Hermione said to him as she drew out her wand. "Accio goblet."

Harry glanced over as her summoning charm caused the goblet Sirius used earlier to give him water. He resisted the urge to catch whatever entered his vicinity. The glass hovered in front of Hermione before she took it and shifted around. Realising that she was about to help him drink, he kept himself limp, embarrassment kicking into life. There was no pity coming from Hermione as she brought the goblet to his lips. He drank the water waiting for him, noticing a refilling charm at play as it didn't empty.

He drew back, taking a breath, allowing Hermione to place the goblet back down as she leaned over him. Her hair tickled his face and he looked up at her. When she settled back, she gave him a look he'd never seen from her before. A tender, soft look.

"How… do you feel?"

Not sure whether or not to answer honestly, Harry inched his head down with difficulty, his body numb and stiff. His arms were slack at his sides with his body now covered by a blanket up to his stomach where bandages wound around his bare torso. The centre of the dressings were stained pink. He let out a gasp, rocking his head back. His wounds were still bleeding.

"Numb." He said truthfully. "I can't… move my hands or my feet."

"I expect it must feel unpleasant." Hermione said quietly, appearing nervous. "Remus said there was a possibility you might lose mobility as a result."

He looked over at her, puzzling out what he'd been given. "Anaesthetic…?" He mumbled out. Hermione nodded. "Would've been nice to have something… like this before."

Gentle fingers brushed through his hair again. His eyes fluttered at the touch.

"Well… the one you've been given isn't exactly legal, Harry. Madame Pomfrey can hardly give children in her care controlled substances like what Remus gave you."

A weak giggle escaped him at Hermione being just so herself, followed by him registering what she just said. He'd been drugged?

"Wh-what is this?"

"It's what Remus uses after his transformations. It's… vampire dust. It's not suitable for normal humans so you were only given a very small amount but… I'm guessing that it's working at least. You aren't in any pain?"

Harry hesitated, not sure if he liked the feeling of numbness but it was far better than the agony he'd been in previously.

"It's not as bad," he decided to say. Hermione accepted it but looked sadly at him as she continued to touch his hair. He wasn't sure why when his hair was in a right state, sweaty and dirty as it was.

"I know this is far from comfortable and you're still really badly hurt, but it's the best option while you're in so much danger." Pain flickered over Hermione's face as she spoke. "Not long after you passed out, some of the Order arrived. That's where Remus and Sirius are. They're downstairs, making sure no one comes within twenty yards of you."

Sirius's absence was keenly felt. Harry looked over to his left hand, wishing his Godfather was still there, holding it and making him feel safe.

Like he really did have someone who would save him when he needed rescuing.

His eyes started to get wet. He drew in a sharp breath in an attempt to calm himself. Hermione let out a soft sound, running her hand down the side of his face.

"H-how long has it been? What time is it?"

Hermione responded by checking her watch. Her brow furrowed. "It's just past two in the morning. I expect the others are in the Hospital Wing by now… or St Mungo's." She chewed a little on her lip, flashing a nervous look at Harry. "You're by far the worst injured. From what I saw before I went after you, neither of them were badly hurt - just stunned at the worst."

"I know… I was trying to keep them that way." Harry said quietly as the events started to replay in his mind. As they did, he then remembered the cause of the whole fiasco in the first place. "Hermione… is it still here? The…" He swallowed. "The prophecy."

Her eyes widened, fixed on his face, as her face looked even paler. She then reached down, bringing Harry's attention to a black mass at the foot of the bed. His robes, he realised. They were still where Sirius had left them.

"It's still in your pocket." She informed him. "Only you can touch it as you never handed it over to anyone. We couldn't remove it from your robes, not without… well… losing our minds."

"Oh." Harry looked away from the robes.

"Your wand is there too. Sirius put it in with the prophecy. It's safe there while no one will risk diving their hand in that pocket."

"No one other than me and Voldemort." Harry said a little bluntly.

Hermione met his gaze, a sudden devastated look entering her eyes.

"Harry…" She took his hand again. He could just about feel her warmth but nothing else. "I'm so sorry you found out the way you did. Keeping you in the dark all this time. I can understand it when you were only eleven but this… I completely understand why you've been so hurt. Dumbledore had no right to keep this from you. It's your life and you had a right to choose when you were ready to hear the truth."

Shock flashed through him in pulses as Hermione spoke, not registering how she squeezed his hand. His eyes warmed again, vision swimming. Her voice had been one in opposition to his doubts and scepticism over the Order's choices - Dumbledore's especially. To hear it in support touched him greatly.

"I can't… I can't begin to imagine how it must have felt to have a man like Lucius Malfoy to tell you that you lost your parents over a bloody prophecy."

Hermione's hand tightened on his and her other hand moved over to cup the side of his face. He struggled to hold his wall up, the bulwark of immense strength that kept back his life's worth of grief. It shuddered but didn't crumble or crack.

"It wasn't the best, no." He admitted quietly. "Or to realise that every member of the Order that had been down in the Department of Mysteries had seen that label and knew the truth too."

Pain stabbed through him but it wasn't the physical kind. Hermione hummed sympathetically, fingers returning to his hair. He closed his eyes at her touch.

"To think that they all knew… and the Death Eaters too. Malfoy." His breath hitched. "And in that time, Dumbledore just ignored me and kept me as far from it as possible. M-maybe he thought it protected me or did me some good not knowing but… what kind of happy life did he think I was living in ignorance? I never… never felt more alone in my life than I have done this year."

He drew in a sharp breath, keeping himself under strict control.

"What's the point with having Sirius back in my life if I can't see him? Wh-what's the point in being safe at Hogwarts while the Ministry takes away my freedom one piece at a time? He knew there was only one member of the Order left in Hogwarts and it was the one man I'd sooner hate than trust."

At the mention of the word 'hate', the feeling sprung to life. The memory of Snape's sneering, unsympathetic face came to mind. He beseeched the man for help out of desperation, giving him a message, a hope that he'd help and reveal himself as an ally. Instead, he was dismissive, insulting and unhelpful. If Hermione hadn't thought as quickly as she had done, Harry would have ended up on the receiving end of the Cruciatus Curse and then likely arrested for aiding and abetting a wanted criminal.

"If it's any consolation, I believe Dumbledore is very angry with Snape at present." Hermione said in a low, angry voice. "While Snape was the one who alerted the Order, there was no reason whatsoever that he should have done things the way he did. He knew that Umbridge would resort to extreme measures to get you to talk, especially if he had already given her veritaserum."

"Did you tell Sirius about what happened in Umbridge's office?" Harry asked her. She gave a small nod.

"Some. They already knew that you'd been tricked by Kreacher." She said, then her anger dissipated. "He… he was compromised. When he led you to believe Sirius had gone to the Ministry, he was following orders from… the Malfoys."

It felt as if a stone fell into Harry's stomach.

"H-how?"

"I'm not sure but as Mrs Malfoy was a Black before she was married, Kreacher was able to follow her orders as she is part of the family he's sworn to serve. He… he injured Buckbeak so Sirius was distracted when you called. This whole trap was well planned. How deep it goes is anyone's guess - if even Umbridge was in on it in some part with Malfoy whispering in the Minister's ear."

Harry listened, wretched. He felt heart-sick at hearing the reality laid out to him. So many had been a part of the plot. The Malfoys were hardly a surprise. Kreacher… he knew there was no love lost between the House Elf and Sirius. The elf had no loyalty towards him, especially when he considered Harry as a 'dirty half-blood'.

What he didn't know was what Snape's part was. Had his poor attempts to teach Harry occlumency been purposeful? Had he refused to teach Harry so his mind remained vulnerable to attack? Harry highly doubted Dumbledore would have allowed Snape to flat out refuse him lessons if he hadn't been driven from the school. Even if Harry had breached Snape's privacy, it wasn't worth his life.

Outside the room, floorboards creaked. Hermione was instantly alert, sliding off the bed. Harry tried to sit up but his arms just twitched in place. A horrible feeling of helplessness robbed him of breath for a moment. He watched as Hermione took a defensive position between where he was bedridden and the door. It seemed so long ago since he had taught Hermione that stance himself.

Harry strained his hearing. There were multiple sets of footsteps along with the incoherent buzz of voices approaching from the lower levels. As they reached their level on the fourth floor, Harry heard the distinct clunk of a wooden leg. Hermione glanced over her shoulder, picking out the gait of Mad-Eye Moody herself. She didn't lower her wand, not even as someone knocked on the door in a distinctive pattern.

The hinges squeaked as the door opened. Four figures entered. Harry's eyes gravitated to Sirius at once. He didn't need to say anything. Hermione turned her wand from Sirius as he crossed the room without hesitation. She lowered her arm a little, taking in the two arrivals. Harry quickly took in that Kingsley was with Mad-Eye before turning his full attention to his Godfather.

It wasn't a feeling he was used to, the dependency. Some part of him, a part he didn't even know existed, wanted to lift up his arms so the man could embrace him and protect him. Perhaps it was an old memory, a physical one that stuck during the first fifteen months of his life when he had a family who nurtured him and loved him. He wanted comfort and knew, instinctively, that the man was someone he could trust to give it. He knew after all that it had been Sirius who carried him in his arms. No one had ever done that before, not since he was a baby.

"You're awake." Sirius breathed out when he reached him, the raw look on his face matching the emotions Harry felt in turmoil inside him. He brushed his hair in the same way Hermione had done. Tender and caring. "Good. That saves us giving you a revival brew."

Mad-Eye clunked to the foot of the bed, grunting as surveyed Harry's prone form. Harry cautiously looked up, still unable to completely quell his distrust even though he knew the ex-Auror bore him no ill-will. The opposite in fact. The seasoned veteran had come to his aid that night.

"You're lucky to be alive, Potter." Mad-Eye said in his usual growling voice. "Once you are back on your feet, it will be high time we all have a conversation about your battle instincts."

"Perhaps if we actually trained him instead of coddling him like a child, this wouldn't have happened." Sirius said in a forced tone as he straightened, moving defensively to face Mad-Eye. Hermione quietly paced from her position, moving back to sit at the bed. Her wand remained out, her eyes wary.

Mad-Eye actually appeared impressed by Sirius's point and didn't disagree. Kingsley shut the door, joining Remus as they moved to Harry's beside, standing with Sirius. All were looking at Harry, making him feel extremely under the lens.

Remus drew his wand. He murmured an incantation, sending a pale blue wisp of smoke outwards where it gusted over Harry. He winced, trying to get away and failing, but Hermione's hand found his. It took him a moment to recognise it as a diagnosis spell. He'd seen enough of them in the Hospital Wing.

"Has your scar hurt at all?" Sirius asked, distracting Harry from his audience. He rested the back of his hand over Harry's forehead, checking his temperature. "Nothing from Voldemort?"

Harry looked up at him, seeing the tension then.

"No. Nothing since I fell asleep."

"Hmm. The chances are he's blocking you now that the connection no longer serves a purpose and only seeks to weaken him." Sirius said as he brushed his hand over Harry's hair, looking down at his scar with a grim look before meeting Harry's eyes. "The moment you feel something or see anything, you tell us right away, okay?"

Hermione squeezed his hand, making him look over. He was regaining more feeling in his limbs. Sure enough, the pain in his chest had grown from muted discomfort to heartburn.

"I think whatever you gave me is wearing off." He said quietly, glancing at Remus.

"Yes…" Remus appeared sheepish as he rubbed at his arms, looking side-along at Sirius. "I'm afraid I can't give you any more. You need to get proper treatment at St Mungo's."

Harry looked between the two marauders, his heart giving a strange stutter in his chest. His thoughts went at once to the Janus Thickley ward where the permanent residents remained, a place he'd been threatened with.

"Wh-what? You can't mean that…" He hated the fear that entered his voice. "The healers there are going to lock me up the moment I'm in there. I'm crazy, remember?"

"I think you'll find a great many people have had a very quick change of heart this evening." Kingsley's voice rumbled in its calming baritone. "Fudge in particular. He arrived at the Ministry himself and witnessed a very wrathful Voldemort destroying the Statue of Magical Brethren."

Harry grimaced. That much he knew to have happened. He drifted in and out of his own mind, experiencing Voldemort's violent rage when he discovered his Death Eaters failure. Flickers of his rage crackled through, sprinkling Harry's thoughts with fragments of a molten, misshapen statute of brass and marble.

"What does that mean exactly?" Hermione asked from Harry's side. "They can't just change tact just like that - go from claiming that Dumbledore and Harry are off their rockers to suddenly 'oops we were wrong'?"

Sirius chuckled. "What do politicians normally do when they make mistakes? They resign before they can admit them."

"Without a doubt he's not keeping his job after this, especially not when it comes out how diabolical the Ministry's security is. Death Eaters breaking into the Ministry without an alarm being raised is one thing - for five teenagers to leave Hogwarts, fly to London and break into one of the most secure places in England?" Remus crossed his arms, looking thoughtful as well as tired. "There isn't any level of damage control in place that can make Fudge recover from this level of failure. Not to mention what he allowed Umbridge to do at Hogwarts on his orders. Preventing children learning how to defend themselves while mass murderers were on the loose will not go down well at all."

Harry shared a quick look with Hermione before glancing down to his right hand. The true level of Umbridge's abuses weren't even known.

"Enough about that. We have plenty of time to enjoy telling Fudge 'I told you so' another time." Mad-Eye said gruffly. "Priority is these two. You say Miss Granger was cursed too?"

"By my cousin." Sirius said darkly. Mad-Eye hissed some expletives under his breath.

"Right, she'll need to come with Potter. Healers will pick it up and use it as evidence." Mad-Eye tapped his arm with his wand as his eyes zipped around. "We need to prepare Mungo's well in advance. Where's that portrait that connects to Albus's office, Black?"

"Phineas?" Sirius asked, perplexed for a moment but he then appeared to understand Mad-Eye's plan. "He comes and goes as he pleases if you mean for him to pass on something to Dilys Derwent? You'll have quicker success if you or Kingsley just floo directly. Or even get Fudge to do it if he's so desperate to claw back some modicum of respect. He's done Harry enough damage. He might as well take responsibility now."

Kingsley hummed deeply in agreement. "Sirius is right. Making this an emergency is the safest way to get Harry into St Mungo's. Harry is most vulnerable at the hospital so we need him to arrive to a full response."

Harry looked up at Hermione, still scared. He knew he was critically injured but going into what had to be the magical version of intensive care terrified him. He kept picturing needles piercing his arms and gloved hands snapping an oxygen mask over his face.

"We can't have him picked up from here." Sirius pointed out.

"No but I have access to the ERU fire. I'll send word, inform the team there that we have a high profile patient on route and we can hand Harry over with full security on the scene. Any attempt to attack Harry publically will not only fail but expose any assassins." Kingsley's voice carried with it the experience he clearly had. His eyes met Harry's. "But we'll only do this if with your consent, Harry."

He swallowed, looking over to Hermione. She met his gaze, giving a slight nod.

"Yeah… okay. St Mungo's it is." He squeezed Hermione's hand. "But… if Hermione's coming, we stay together. Same… ward or whatever."

Sirius turned to Kingsley for his answer. The tall Auror nodded, drawing out his wand, preparing to leave.

"A reasonable request. Mad-Eye, I take it you're going back to the Ministry?"

Moody grunted in response, whether a 'yes' or 'no', it wasn't clear. He shifted his leg as he moved to leave as well.

"No more potions with vampire dust." He snapped at Remus who actually looked chastised, clearing his throat to look away. "I'll look the other way for now as you have a suitable cause, but you keep that stuff to yourself."

With a clunk, he followed Kingsley out of the room.

The wait for Kingsley to contact St Mungo's started off bearable enough. Sirius took the time to find out what happened in the lead up between Harry receiving the fake vision to their arrival at the Ministry. He wished he hadn't asked for the information, not when it added another reason for him to pay Dolores Umbridge a visit. Hearing that a Ministry official was willing to use an Unforgivable was a galling reminder of how far they were willing to go to pursue their corrupted view of justice. Sirius experienced it during the martial rule of Bartemius Crouch. Umbridge appeared to have the same lack of any compassion.

Not far into the conversation, the 'tonic' Remus procured for Harry began wearing off. Sirius didn't ask any questions about where Remus managed to get his hands on vampire dust. He assumed during his travels while he was hopelessly imprisoned in Azkaban. The effects were astounding as Harry appeared completely pain-free until it wore off. He did his best to hide it but the physical toll was impossible to conceal. The sweat dewed on his forehead as he struggled, his immense pain threshold tested to the time.

Sirius couldn't help but notice Harry's incredible bravery and resilience. He didn't voice a single complaint about the pain he was in. It was a stark reminder of how different Harry's upbringing had been from his father's. James had been an absolute princess when it came to pain, acting like he was on his deathbed when he had a sniffle. The Potters doted on their son, spoiling him rotten until they they gave Sirius the same treatment. But Sirius hadn't experienced that level of care and attention from his own family. Experiencing Harry just dealing with the pain, hiding it as much as he could, he was confronted by something he didn't want to consider. Harry learned the same early lessons he had, just in a different way. Pain was a weakness that can be used against you.

A wait that had been bearable soon became intolerable. Harry was barely with it at all as he panted and even cried out. He started to mumble things as the pain made him confused, flashing between clinging to him and Hermione for comfort and then completely terrified.

When finally, Kingsley sent his patronus it was past four in the morning. He would meet them in the front room with a gurney to transport Harry into the ERU. Looking at Harry, it was clear he was in no condition to walk. The bandages Sirius applied were red as the wounds bled in earnest. Harry simply wasn't healing himself fast enough.

Hermione gathered Harry's robes from the bottom of the bed. As she did, Sirius remembered what exactly Harry had managed to steal from the Ministry and out from the Death Eaters' noses. Hurriedly, he took the robes from her and placed them on Harry's lap. He and Remus helped sit him up, pulling the blanket off his legs.

"We need to give them to the healers. The curse residue will help the healers…" Sirius explained to Remus. "And he needs to take out the prophecy." He added under his breath. Harry heard, lifting his sweaty, pained face to meet his stare. His glasses had slipped down his nose, making his squint over them.

Between them, they helped Harry move to the edge of the bed, sitting up. He then fumbled at his robes, the cloth torn and charred, stiff with his dried blood. He dug into the pocket, face twitching as he moved. He then took out a small orb. The depths swirled at his touch. His eyes darted between them as Hermione joined them, ready to assist. Slowly, he extended the prophecy out to Remus.

Not for the first time, Harry's quick thinking impressed Sirius. Smarts that he inherited from both James and Lily. He knew he couldn't give the prophecy to Hermione when she was about to be patient herself. Giving it to Sirius when he was about to transform made no sense. Remus took in a deep breath and reached for it. His hand closed over it. Just like that, the curse on the orb was broken.

"I'll hide it." Remus said quietly. "I won't be long."

Sirius was left to levitate Harry on his own. Guilt surged through him at the desperate look on Harry's face when he had to let himself be lifted like a large marionette. Hermione held his hand.

Something had fused between the young wizard and witch. Harry's selfless act of throwing himself in front of the curse for Hermione showed that he would die for those he loved. Just as James and Lily had done for him. He'd bound himself to Hermione as a result… or bound her to him.

Kingsley was already waiting for them. With the gurney already set up, all they had to do was place Harry comfortably on it. The contraption looked like it belonged in a museum with a wooden frame and brass joints. It sported no wheels, charmed to levitate and adjust its height. The padded bed was narrow, covered with white cloth. When Remus returned, having concealed the prophecy, he helped them lift Harry onto the gurney.

"Sirius…" Harry murmured his name, looking for him. "Please stay with me."

From the looks Kingsey and Remus gave him, Sirius knew he had to transform. Harry needed to get moving as soon as possible. He leaned over his godson, bringing his hands up to make sure his glasses were sitting properly on his nose. He then placed a kiss on the top of his head.

"I'll not be far. I promise."

Moving back, he turned his face away so Harry couldn't see his tears. Remus and Kingsley worked together to buckle Harry in place. Harry's short breaths betrayed his fear and pain. Hermione then stepped next to Harry, her fingers brushing through his sweaty black locks. Harry's face relaxed as he gazed up at her.

Assured, Sirius reached inwards and brought forth Padfoot. Shifting from one form to the other came with the usual disorientation. He shook his head, sound and smell slamming into him with the almost painful onslaught of information. Harry's smell was like a battering ram. The amount of sweat and blood made his scent like a beacon, drowning out even Remus's unique blend of wolf and man. Hermione and Kingsley's scents were more subdued but still their own unique brand. They had no words to describe what made them different - they just were.

He padded up to the gurney, letting out a low sound. His head was level, enough for Harry's fingers to poke out and touch his snout. Sirius looked over to Harry's head, the world in monochrome through his canine eyes.

"Hermione, stay with Remus. Good. Sirius - Snuffles, even - stay with us." Kingsley said as he took the lead. He controlled Harry's gurney, bringing it towards him. Harry squirmed, visibly scared as he lacked any control over his situation, strapped in place as he was. The bands securing him kept his arms free, but he was fastened to the gurney at his shins, thighs, hips and across the shoulders. Sirius poked out his tongue, licking his fingers. A weak attempt at a smile flickered to life on Harry's face in response.

The fire roared with green flames when Kingsley hurled fresh floo powder into the hearth. Magic spiced the air. Sirius let Harry grab his fur at the back of his neck, knowing that he needed the contact. Together, in a very motley group, they walked into the waiting green portal.

And into the chaos that waited for them.

AN: ERU is Emergency Response Unit. I couldn't think of anything pithy enough so I'm sorry by how boring it is.