Better the Bauble Be Broken, A Harry Potter Christmas Tragedy
Summary:
Harry Potter and the Order of the Phoenix – 5th Year, One Shot, Canon.
A few days before Christmas, Harry and the Weasleys are visiting Mr. Weasley in St. Mungo's. He has just become stable from the snake bite. While waiting in the hall, they resort to eavesdropping on the adults and overhear the Order talk about Harry and his strange connection to Voldemort. Harry is stunned and the group goes quiet. Their melancholic mood is only overshadowed by another tragic story unfolding down the hall from a boy just brought in for care.
Harry quickly removed his Extendable Ears and handed them back to George, staring straight ahead and swallowing a hard lump in his throat. He sat back against the wall, stunned at the thought that Voldemort might be possessing him, or using him as a weapon against the Order.
Ron was still listening intently until Ginny gave him a jab, pointing her chin at Harry. She took both their leads and handed them back to George, who was tapping his foot nervously, winding up the remaining ears. The mirth of seeing Mr. Weasley in good spirits had dissipated entirely.
Harry couldn't meet the eyes of anyone, so he instead traced the woodgrain on the hallway floor with his finger, drawing little circles around the knots, listening to the slight shuffles and coughs as they all avoided each other's eyes.
Fred leaned over and waved his arm over Harry's head and looked around at the group, smirking. 'I reckon you're safe enough mate, I can't feel any strings' he smiled in an attempt to lighten the mood. Harry only looked up for a moment and smiled politely. Fred resolved to patting Harry on the shoulder and slumped against the wall with the rest of the group.
George tucked away the last of the ears, shrugging at Fred, joining the silence. There was still a murmur from the adults talking to Mr. Weasley, but no discernable words.
After several minutes the squeak and rattle of a wheelchair came around the corner, in which sat a very confused man with actual hams for hands. The distraught healer struggled with both pushing the wheelchair and trying to hold back the hammy hands to prevent the man from eating them in his stupor.
'Now Mr. Pilkington, if you don't hold your appetite until dinner your family will think it very rude! You wouldn't want there to be no ham left for later would you?'
Fred was in the way of the wheelchair. He quickly tucked in his feet to avoid the wheels and the swinging hams. The man in the chair was now generously extending his arms and offering a bite of ham to anyone within reach. The group smiled briefly in amusement, watching them exit the hall, but soon it fell to silence again.
The quiet hall was soon interrupted when down the hall a door clacked shut and two healers backed into the hallway, talking intently to each other.
The first healer was middle aged, clean and haughty, with her chin held severely high. The second healer was younger, hunched and covered in soot, her hair clotted with dried blood, the bottom of her robes smeared in mud.
'If I can't remove that blasted bauble from his hand, then why did you bring him here!?' pestered the first healer. 'I can remove the shards in an instant to clean the wounds properly!'
The second healer shook her head. 'In time, yes, in time, but not until he falls asleep, it would be too much for him,' she explained with a hand to her head and winced eyes as if she was struggling to find her words. 'The boy…. needs time to accept what happened, let him sleep before he faces – NO!' She moved to stand between the door and the first healer. 'Listen first, or we may lose him, just…just listen, please!'
The first healer cast a look over her shoulder and removed her hand from the doorknob. 'Alright, speak then, I have other wards to attend to.'
The second took a long breath. Close to tears and bleary eyed, running fingers through her hair, only to get them snagged on the clotted blood. She wiped her nose on her robes, ignoring the disdained look of the first healer.
'It wasn't just a fire you see. The boy's father was killed and his mother is missing. We found the boy this morning, barefoot, standing in the yard, staring straight ahead, holding that broken Christmas bauble. He wasn't even shivering, just staring at the bauble and nothing else. His hand was bleeding, but when anyone tried to take it, he would just run off quicker than any of us could follow.'
'But his feet would be frozen! Why would you let him run like that?' said the first.
'… righteous retrospect is not a knut worth…' muttered the second, rolling her eyes.
'What's the meaning of – ' frowned the first.
'You think we couldn't see that!? Very fine for you to deliver a sermon after the hard work is done.' retorted the second, smearing her nose on her sleeve and turning her head. '…chasing the boy through snow… more and more muggles coming out to gawk at the fire…'
'Plenty of hard work indoors too…' began the first, then changing her tone when she saw how frustrated the second was, she added, 'I'm sorry….continue please.'
The second glared a moment, again looking like she was about to cry, but too weary to actually draw out the tears.
'I was the one who got his feet warm. I could see that chasing him was only making things worse. He was too stunned to be rational, so I took off my cloak and sat on the snow near the fir tree he was standing under and waited him out. After a few minutes I was able to get his attention and convince him to stand beside me so I could admire the beautiful bauble up close. He could hardly take his eyes off the ornament, and when he finally came close enough, I guided him onto my cloak and kept him warm until we could get him here.'
'Warm feet are fine, but you let him squeeze that bloody bauble the whole time! You could have healed his hand on the spot, but now we have to worry about infection, and scarring and….' the first healer swung her chin high and moved to enter the room again.
'NO!' cried the second healer, peeling the hands of the first healer from the door knob, and planting herself in front of the door. 'No… you must understand something.'
The first healer stepped back, shaking her head, assessing the dirt and blood on the second healer. 'Why so much trouble for a piece of painted glass?' said the first. 'The boy has serious lacerations to his index and middle fingers and you keep rambling on about that damned bauble!'
'Yes, and that can be healed tomorrow, but today I need to know he will remain whole. Better he lose those fingers than lose something deeper.'
'Or we can just heal the hand now and keep the fingers.'
'You still don't understand.' stammered the second, beginning to shake now. 'To separate him from the bauble now would be like pulling the bowstring on a gift, only to lift the lid and find the box writhing with snakes… It would be like tearing the last thread on a bag full of…'
'You're just spouting nonsense now.' dismissed the first.
The second stood taller and raised her voice, 'to take that ornament from his hand now would drop the full blow of last night's events on his head. He's just a boy and can't comprehend it yet. To take that bauble, the last hope he can hang onto and feel, would scatter him beyond repair, and no amount of healing would make him whole again! His parents are gone, and that damned broken piece of glass is the last promise of stability he has to hold on to, it would rip him apart to take it from him now!'
The first healer took stock of those words and stood back a moment to think. 'Well, there's still hope his mother will show up, but I think I see, the shock would be too much to bear. You think he might go into fits of panic if I separate him from the bauble?'
'YES! I'll sooner see his hand removed before I see you take that ornament away from him. Let him savour the pain tonight and accept the tragedy in his own way tomorrow.'
'And you would permit me to heal the wound after he falls asleep?' inquired the first, raising one eyebrow.
'…Yes, of course, if only you can wait until then to care for his hand, then I can leave in peace that he will still be whole. Just make sure it's the first thing he sees when he wakes up.' said the second healer.
The first healer retreated another step and nodded. 'I'll see to it, and I'm sorry to be cross with you, it's been a merciless morning with all the bickering families we get for the holidays. What's the boy's name?'
'His name...' said the second, thinking hard. 'Stuffolk...I think, we picked him up from West Slough, I don't know his first name, he won't speak.'
'Stuffolk! Oh my, I do know that name, my mum speaks of a Stuffolk… fine lady she says, a little brash, but a good stout heart.'
The second healer, relieved she didn't need to guard the door anymore, exhaled and leaned closer to the first. 'I think I'm starting to believe He's really back, there's no sense to the burning, and it hasn't been the first like this...'
'Oh, now it's back to nonsense.' said the first with a quick shake of her head and an anxious smile, 'He can't be back, it's just impossible.'
'The Dark Mark was still over their house...in broad daylight too. Fading, but it was there,' muttered the second. 'I saw it with my own eyes, even if the muggles didn't. This was murder no matter what the Prophet says. I don't think the boy's mother will be coming back.'
The first healer clasped her hands and now looked like she was about to cry. 'Oh, I can't believe it just yet. I hear you dear, but I just can't believe it.' She took the second healer's hands in her own. 'I'm sorry dear, you've had a long night and I've a long shift to go, I can't bear to hear more bad news. I'll see the boy sleeps and tend the wound myself. You go get some rest.'
'Thank you.' exhaled the second healer, now visibly weary. 'I'll see you and the boy before your shift is up. I don't think I'll sleep much today, I'm reporting for nights again tonight, and I never sleep right. I think he should see me again before he leaves the ward.'
The first knit her eyebrows, 'Leave where? He may need to stay here unless he has family to take him in.' Frowning, she added, 'at least he won't be alone for Christmas...' Then seeing the second sway on her feet, she smiled endearingly 'Go, just go home dear, I'm talking aloud here, we'll find a way.'
The second healer nodded clumsily, turning to leave along the hallway with eyes downcast. After several steps, she saw the group sitting on the floor. Catching Harry's eye she dropped her jaw and tripped on the hem of her robe before averting her eyes. Harry briefly met her gaze with an understanding grimace before she continued down the hall, hugging the wall to avoid everyone's legs.
The door to Mr. Weasley's room opened and the members of the Order filed into the hall. Moody signalled Tonks to hush, then quickly darted his head left and right, sweeping the hall for threats. Mrs. Weasley did a quick head count while everyone stood up and put on their muggle jackets.
'Alright? Everyone had a nice visit? We'll come back soon after he's had some more rest.' She clapped her hands and smiled at the group. 'What say we go see the tree at Tawdry Court? I heard music on the walk here. Then we can find a nice roast and some taters and get dinner started.' Mrs. Weasley herded everyone down the hall, sweeping the dust from the backs of their jackets as they went.
Seeing Harry wipe away a tear while putting on his jacket, she stepped over and drew him in for a hug and kissed his forehead. 'Oh, Harry, you're sweet, but he'll be on his feet in no time, you know Arthur,' patting his shoulder. Harry tried to smile and join the cheer despite his exhaustion.
When they reached the exit, Harry lowered his head against the cold as they swept onto the street full of muggle shoppers, almost bumping into the twins when they stopped to donate to a charity man ringing a bell.
The rhythm of walking and watching the Weasleys cheerfully shop the window displays helped Harry's mind drift just long enough to think Christmas might still be salvaged this year. And he could at least look forward to Sirius being in good spirits when they returned, red cheeked, arms full of food.
Harry blinked at the snowflakes flitting in his eyes. He took a deep breath and lifted his feet a step higher to join everyone staring at the model train set in a delicatessen window, each car carrying a tiny payload of meats and cakes. They peppered the window with nose prints before Mrs. Weasley tugged at their jackets and pointed down the street.
'Yes, yes, we're all hungry aren't we, but let's go see the brass band play before they pack up.' She doted and picked at the threads on their scarves before herding the group towards the square.
Harry's numb feet followed along as the music got louder, dizzy at the thought that he would not see sleep for some time. As they listened to the music, Harry became distracted and found his eyed fixated on the large tree in the square, the ornaments swaying and sparkling in the afternoon light.
End.
Luka Stilheere