My Time
Chapter 3
"Easy, young man, nice deep breaths, you're safe," an elder wizard in a lime green robe insisted, pressing his hand against the wizard's shoulder. Keeping him from leaping out of the bed, "You're in St. Mungo's for magical maladies and injuries. I am Healer Ewan, and I've been taking care of you since you were brought in."
Harry blinked, wincing at the robes, the colour made him feel even more sick than he felt. "Wh…what happened?" he croaked out, jumping a little when a goblet came flying at his face, but he greedily gulped down the water, until the Healer grew wise to his actions and prevented him from taking too much.
"Small sips only, you don't want to make yourself sick," Healer Ewan chided softly, observing the young wizard cautiously. "That particular question is one we'd like to know. You were brought to us, seizing uncontrollably, we removed two curses from your person which stopped the seizures. Do you remember anything that happened?"
Harry stared at the healer, looking and feeling entirely lost. Recalling where he was, 1945, a time alien to him…foreign. He knew nobody here, what had he been thinking going along with this crazy plan? "I don't know," he murmured bleakly, what had he really been thinking?
"It's no surprise, we believe you may have been ambushed, were you at the very least in England before you were attacked?" Healer Ewan questioned, still observing the young man.
"Yes," Harry nodded vehemently, "I'd just got back." Recalling that he had to create his own history. Considering how small the magical world was, he was going to have to create for himself outside of the British magical community.
"Do you recall the last date you remember?" the Healer questioned, sitting down scooting closer.
"It's December, 1945, right?" Harry said, the snow outside of his window was a dead giveaway really. Plus, there was a calendar left by the last patient perhaps? Or put there by the healers for patients, either way he took advantage of it. "Twenty-second of December." Subtracting a few days, hoping that's all he'd been in for.
There were other patients in the room, three other beds, three other patients. They were rather on the small side, children, he thought sadly, stuck here at the holidays.
"That was the day you were brought in," Healer Ewan nodded, "It's now the twenty-fourth, you've been unconscious for nearly three days. It's currently eight o'clock at night."
"Oh," Harry murmured, unable to believe his good luck, that was a hell of a guess. He couldn't help but be pleased with himself, two curses? He'd been hit with the killing curse…surely that wouldn't show up?
"Are you up to answering a few questions?" the healer asked, summoning the clipboard from the end of the bed.
"Sure," Harry murmured stretching up, flexing his hands and feet, they felt strange, not at all like his. "But…um…I rather need to go to the bathroom first?" he probably shouldn't have made it sound like a question.
"Of course, let me help you," the Healer said, standing, pressing a strong steady hand against Harry's back, easing him into sitting position. Easing his legs out of the covers and hanging over the side of the bed. "Take it easy," helping him slowly begin to stand, observing how he was. "Any disorientation?"
"I'm fine," Harry murmured, releasing the Healers' hands as he held onto the side of the bed, and headed in the direction of the bathroom. The door to the hospital room was open, thus it could only be the one other door that hid the bathroom behind it. He kept quiet in hopes of not disturbing the other patient's rest.
Entering the bathroom, which was basic, bath, with an overhead shower and toilet and a sink. The sink had a small square mirror attached to the wall, inhaling sharply, Harry's heart pounded as he slowly walked towards it, recalling Mort's earlier words, about his features being changed.
A magical version of the witness protection programme he thought sardonically. Snorting a little, as he took in his features, he was ever so glad that it was still his face looking back at him. Identifiable features, he just looked less like his father James Potter. His hair was straight, black, and thankfully, his eyes were still green.
His fingers brushed against his face, his forehead, no scar, sharper cheekbones, more aristocratic if it was possible. He did look like Ignotus Peverell, he realized, recalling Ignotus appearing just as things went black again.
Hell, he could have been the wizard's son, nobody in their right mind could say he didn't resemble the Peverell's very closely. There were portraits of the three Peverell brothers, even chocolate frogs and the like. They were well remembered, even if nobody realized the tale of the three brothers was in actual fact based on them.
A small smile appeared on his face, despite the ache deep in his bones. Even his cheeks hurt, but if he'd been seizing as long as the Healer had implied then it was little wonder, he ached to the very bones of him.
No Harry Potter, no fame, no expectations, just another wizard in the crowd. Suddenly, regardless of his tiredness he felt excitement thrum through him. Shuffling over to the toilet, he emptied his bladder, washed his hands and then his face, he could do this.
Straightening his spine, the wizarding world hadn't truly changed all that much. Not in all this time, except from new spells, new books, he could do this. It wouldn't be such a massive culture change like it would be in the Muggle world. Now, the Muggle world – which he hadn't been in since he was sixteen and, on the run, – would be extremely different.
War torn, if he recalled correctly, speaking of which, he needed to find out what had been happening here. Obviously, he couldn't actually just go and ask, he would need to read everything, newspapers?
"So, you have questions?" Harry asked, as he wandered back over, sticking close to things he could grab, walls, the bed, anything. He was still subtly shaking, his body still recovering from the seizures.
"Let's get you settled back down," Healer Ewan said, fussing over his patient, only once Harry was situated did the Healer pick up the clipboard again. "Can you tell me your name?"
"Hayden Ignotus Haidar Peverell," the now self-proclaimed (well by Death at any rate) Hayden replied.
Healer Ewan inhaled sharply, his keen gaze wracking over Hayden's features. Amazement bloomed within those blue eyes, as he realized that Hayden was definitely a descendant of the Peverell's. At long last a male descendant from the direct line had been born.
"Your address?"
"No fixed address yet, as soon as I'm able I'll be going to Gringotts, my original intended destination." Hayden fibbed.
"Do you have any known allergies?" Healer Ewan asked, the only reason Hayden wasn't writing this himself was because his hands were shaking. It would make the writing impossible to read, so he was doing it.
"No, not at all," Hayden replied, at least nothing he'd come across anyway.
"Are you on any potions?"
"No," Hayden shook his head, clasping his hands together, giving them a squeeze so that they weren't shaking. "How long before I'm given the all clear?" asking his own question now.
"The curses were removed, you've not had another seizure since, which is good, we'd like to keep you in for another day at least. Just to be on the safe side, unless you've got family you can stay with?" he suggested, "Otherwise, if you're on your own we'd rather you remain here where we can keep an eye on you." Nobody wanted to spend the holidays on their own, never mind in a hospital. It wasn't ideal, but that was life, health came first.
"I don't," he replied, blank faced, he never really did, although he considered the Weasley's family and always would. It didn't matter what Ginny had done; he would miss the rest of them like an open wound. They'd understand though, his decision to want to be here, to live and lead a normal life. He'd see them all again though, even make their acquaintance again. Especially Ron and Hermione.
The Healer felt his heart go out to the young wizard. The look on his face spoke of a recent loss, perhaps why he was returning to Britain? Considering his age and his ability, it was a genuine surprise he wasn't already married. "You are not married or betrothed?" he wasn't asking to be nosy; it was one of the questions on the list.
"No," Hayden shook his head, were they still popular in this time? He knew his grandparents hadn't set one up for dad. Understandably, his parents hadn't set one up for him. He'd naturally heard of the word 'betrothed' but didn't actually personally know anyone who had been.
"Parents names?" the Healer asked, ticking the box.
"Ignotus and Grace Peverell," Hayden informed him, he was going to have to trust that Mort knew what he was doing. They hadn't discussed anything and he was told to make up his own history, so that's what he was doing.
"Magical guardian? Godparents?"
"They're dead," Hayden informed the healer, "And they were Muggles," bending the truth entirely so that no names were asked for. It was going to be a chore to remember his new identity without adding dozens of names.
"Blood status?" the Healer enquired.
Hayden's brows rose, "Excuse me?" was that really something they had the audacity to ask people?
"I know, pureblood, my apologise, it's something I have to ask," the Healer admitted, sounding a little sheepish. "It happens all too often, thankfully it's only the once." Then it was recorded with the hospital, presuming him to be pureblood because of his indignant stance and his last name.
Muggle born's or Half-blood when asked were either proud and haughtily or mulishly embarrassed. A result of being mocked while at Hogwarts, unfortunately, which was filled with the majority being from long proud pureblood lines.
Hayden opened his mouth to protest that he wasn't pureblood, when one of his roommates woke up with harsh coughing. What was wrong with allowing himself to be a pureblood? He was a Peverell, a proud line, and it evidently meant a lot to Ignotus that he be given this chance. His mind was driven back to his very first meeting with Ron. About a squib of his own line, how they 'never talk about him' even they were prejudice in their own way.
"Excuse me," the healer murmured, placing the clipboard on the bed, and off to see his other patient. Due to the holidays, they were on a reduced workforce.
"Of course," Hayden murmured his agreement, picking up the clipboard, which was shaky in his hands. His eyes roamed over all the information they wanted/were asking. Some of it was already filled in, and not asked for, including the fact he was a carrier, in big bold red letters.
There wasn't much more information to needed, he realized, lifting the page of his medical history. Nothing on the other side, except for a diagnosis, he presumed was cast when he was brought in.
He wondered where he'd landed…who brought him in? He supposed it didn't matter in the long run. Sighing softly, he lay back down, listening to the muffled sound of the Healer's voice and sleep claimed him once more.
The next time Hayden became aware, he heard voices speaking in low tones by harried sounding Wizards and Witches. Opening his eyes, he stared dumbstruck by the sight that greeted him.
The figure at the doorway was absolutely stunning, so much so that drool was collecting in Hayden's mouth as he stared. Grey eyes, long dark hair, with a neatly trimmed beard, there was no doubt that this wizard was a Black. Snapping his mouth shut before he embarrassed himself, he swallowed thickly. He was though, very, very hot and desire shot through Hayden like a speeding bullet. He'd never experienced that sort of desire before, sure, he'd been attracted to someone…but very low grade if anything at all.
The smell of gingerbread, berries, corn and pine met his nose. Brought him out of his rather…bothersome thoughts. A Medi-Witch levitated a fully decorated tree into the hospital room. Levitating it into the middle, it was filled with miniature wreaths, pinecones and berries and other various fruits.
Another Medi-witch who had a mistletoe amulet on, was attaching one to the wall above the doorway.
Hayden didn't understand, if he had the dates correct…then wasn't Yule officially over? Did the hospital only allow it for one day? Gingerbread was being passed out, also a small gift for each of the patients.
"It's good to see you are recovering well," the wizard said.
"I'm good at that," Hayden said wryly, with a rueful grin.
"Used to disturbing people's days, are you?" the wizard continued, impassive gaze upon Hayden revealing nothing.
"Ah, so you were the one to find me, well, I'd apologise for inconveniencing you for all of ten minutes it took to Apparate or Portkey me here." Hayden said oozing sarcasm which made the wizard lips twitch as if he was suppressing his amusement.
"I notice you didn't apologise," he continued on.
Hayden arched a brow, "Oh, I so do apologise my Lord and Master for inconveniencing you for all of ten minutes." He said, snorting directly afterwards, before yawning and shaking his head. Idly noticing that his hands were no longer shaking, might be his lucky day then.
The wizard stared, stunned, straightening up feeling insulted and amused. Nobody usually acted this way with him, not even his sister or cousins. He stepped further into the room, not sure whether he wanted to sneer and defend himself or hear more. He found himself rather giddy at the prospect.
Then he caught sight of the clipboard at the bottom of the wizard's bed. His name and status leaping out at him. Peverell, Hayden Peverell. He was a carrier, and a pureblood to boot and very, very single. Someone had screwed up, displaying a pureblood's medical records like that and it annoyed him.
Could he truly be from the direct Peverell line?
"I would like to thank you, Heir Black for your patronage, I hope your parents and grandparents are doing well?" the Administrator of St. Mungo's was quick to smarmy up to the soon to be Lord Black.
Hayden's lips quirked into an amused smile; he had been correct then. If he was being referred to as the Heir, then it was Orion himself.
"Yes, yes, they're doing well, they believe it's time to pass the baton to me." Orion Black, they had a custom of celebrating the last day of Yule with the patients in St. Mungo's who could not be at home for the holidays. Buying a small gift for each person, usually just a travel chess set, or some such item. Exploding snap or chocolate frog cards or even Quidditch trading cards for the children.
His parents insisted on it, informing him that it would make him see just how fortunate he was. Orion personally thought it was a waste of time, the gifts were probably discarded when they went home, and the gingerbread thankless.
He had no idea that Hayden Peverell was going to make him see just appreciated the gift giving actually was.
It would turn out to be one of the best Yule holidays he'd ever had despite his fears that it would be one of the dullest.
A/n – Yeah, I'll get a 6K chapter out to you today while cooking, talking to everyone and sitting in a food coma…sure, I definitely didn't think my earlier Facebook comment through LOL But I can give you half of that thankfully 😊 but it always seems to be this story that's suffering! One day I'll get a 6K chapter out just you wait! :D What do you think of Orion then? (pic on A03 and picture on FF story pic) Grins I wish I could take the credit but it isn't this day :D truthfully, he looks a bit how I imagine Acheron in the Dark-Hunter series as well as Orion :D Oh! I also need some names for good wizarding politic groups! Since it's all going to be rather politic-y I'm going to make it a bit like Britain's politics (and probably mess it up but definitely going to give it a try!) it's going to be a lot of fun trying though! R&R please Happy Holidays, Merry Christmas and I hope you all have a wonderful day stay safe and take care xx