Chapter 1: The Ghost of St. Peter's

Sherry Wallace has been a trauma nurse at St. Peter's Hospital for nearly a decade now. In that time she's seen her fair share of injuries ranging from bad to worse to downright horrific. It was never pleasant but she had learned to deal with the blood and gore long ago. The patients deserved the staff's best when they came through those doors, they needed their best to survive. So when the young teen, bloody and beaten, was rushed in through the trauma bay with a paramedic over him pushing down into his chest, it only took her half a second to bite down the horror she felt rising in her chest. This young man needed her at her best if he would live to see the next sunrise. In a flash she was by his side listening to another paramedic list off his injuries. Orbital fracture and broken jaw. Four fingers on his left hand crushed and two on his right not looking great either. Forearm fractured in 3 places. Broken ribs, but that was due to the emergency CPR than whatever had done this to him. Field ultrasound showed signs of internal bleeding and major bruising on his throat hinted at a damaged esophagus. He could hardly breathe and adding all his other injuries onto the list that seemed to keep getting longer, it was no big surprise that he had quickly gone into shock. The V-Fib that followed the reason for the CPR.

"What do we have Sher?", Dr. Everett asked, stepping into the emergency treatment room, adjusting his mask. Quickly she repeated everything the paramedic told her while prepping the defibrillator for the doctor.

"Alright, charge to 200. Ready? Clear!", the doctor shouted pressing the pads into the teens chest. His body responded to the electric shock, muscles tensing from the voltage for a second before relaxing. Dr. Everett checked the monitor for a moment, searching for a change in rhythm before turning once to the team. "Nothing. Try again charge to 250! Clear!"

Again and again they went and again and again the teen's heart refused to beat normally once more. If it went on for much longer his heart would give out from the stress and-

"BWEEEEEEEEEEEE"*. The monitors flat tone cut through the chaos like a knife. Everyone stopped for a moment to stare. Dr. Everett cursed under his breath before shaking his head and looking at the clock. "Time of death 21:32." he said before pulling off his mask and making towards the exit.

However, before he could place his hand upon the door the body of the teen tensed up again. His back arched pressing his bruised chest to the sky. Arms contorted and spasmed despite the broken bones. His undamaged eye flew open yet only the white of his sclera visible before his mouth flew open and a haunting scream echoed out. An unseen force seemed to respond to the boys agony, shaking the very foundation of the hospital. As his scream reached its crescendo, the peculiar scar upon his forehead seemed to rip open and a black tar-like substance leaked out.

This however, seemed to only torment the boy more. His body jerked and flailed atop the table. The equipment around him beeped erratically before shorting out in a shower of sparks. The staff who had before only stepped back in shock at the teens sudden movement dived for the floor to avoid the carnage. Sherry watched on however, rooted to the spot whether from fear or astonishment she didn't know. It was from her place near the boy that she saw it. An ethereal claw began rising from the teens scar. The arm and body it was attached to following moments after. The teen finally grew limp as soon as the last wisping dredges of the shade left his scar. Sherry looked up. The smokey black figured was shrouded in darkness and its form seemed to barely stay humanoid. There was nothing discernible from the figure. Its very being seemed to shift like torrential waves upon a cliff, breaking apart and melding back together in moments. The only thing Sherry could even make out were the two red slits in place of eyes peering down at her.

The figure stared at her for a moment more, but for Sherry it felt like an eternity. It peered into her soul itself and from within she saw horrible things. Scenes played out in her head that put even the most horrific of her cases to shame. People tortured and slaughtered in droves. Not by guns or knives, but by a wave of a hand.

Finally, the shade looked away, throwing back its head and letting loose a terrible noise. A sound akin to shattering glass and creaking metal echoed out. It took her a second to realize it was laughing. What such a creature could laugh about she dared not to imagine. The shade continued its laughter, before twisting into the air and disappearing with a crack like thunder, throwing those in the room back, Sherry included.

Silence reigned for a moment. Those in the room too terrified to move before the teen once more jerked, drawing in a rasping breath.

Sherry was the first to move, pushing herself off the floor with a wince, and rushing to the teens side. She began shouting orders to the other staff. No matter what just happened, this boy still needed their help. Whether good or bad, what just occurred gave him a second chance and they needed to ensure it was not wasted.

Harry was floating. No, he was falling, or was he not moving at all? He didn't know and opening his eyes proved fruitless as well. There were swirling colors all around him and yet when he tried to focus on them everything would fall back into darkness. Closing his eyes once more he tried to recall what brought him to this place. His thoughts, like the world around him, were a whirlwind however. Like sand in the wind they would blow away before any could become coherent. He managed to catch small flashes here and there but they only caused further confusion.

Masked faces. A lone dead tree upon a hill. A boot digging into his back. Three gravestones. Pain. On and on they came. A loud siren. Red eyes. Gloved hands prodding him. Screaming. White walls. Laughter. It was a kaleidoscope of reality and dreams yet he still could not begin to comprehend any of them.

Suddenly, all at once, everything stopped. The disconnection, the floating, the colors, the incoherence all faded away, replaced with a blinding light that pulled him in.

'It hurts.'*

Sherry leaned back in her chair with a groan. Her back was killing her. Hell her everything was killing her. After the "scary ghost shit" as a few of her coworkers dubbed it, her and Dr. Everett had managed to stabilize him enough to get him rushed up to the surgical floor. 9 hours and 4 more patients later, here she sat in the mystery teens room finishing noting his vitals in his chart. The police had come by and done their usual questioning and answered a few of her questions as well. Apparently the kid was found at the entrance of a neighborhood alley near Little Whinging, beaten to hell and back. After giving what she could, she had came by to check on him, a job for the post-op night nurses but sue her, she was sentimental and a little curious.

Coming back to reality she managed to catch the first movement from the teen in hours. She sat up quickly eyeing him, halfway expecting another poltergeist to pop out of him. Yet when it appeared he seemed to just be waking up she breathed a quick sign of relief before calling for the post-op team.

She approached the teen quickly, catching his one eye not covered in gauze pads blinking open blearily before focusing on her. The green eye widened briefly before frantically darting around the room. Realizing he was starting to panic Sherry tried to calm him. "Shhhh love, it's okay. You're alright I promise. I'm Nurse Wallace. You're currently at St. Peter's Hospital. I need you to remain calm for me love can you do that?"

His eye trained back on her as she spoke, darting around once or twice more before settling on her for good. He managed to nod slightly at her before his face scrunched up in a wince.

"Try to stay still okay? You were hurt very badly and we had to perform emergency surgery. Your jaw was temporarily wired shut during the surgery to help set it and you wont be able to talk.", she said in a smooth voice. The post-op team began entering at that moment, working around her to check all his vitals and the equipment attached to him.

"Alright love, these people are just gonna check on a few things and make sure you're okay for the time being. While they do that I'm going to ask you a few questions. Just nod yes or no for me but slowly okay?" On she went asking him yes or no questions. Surprising no one, many of the questions she asked such as "Do you remember what happened?", "Do you have anyone we can call?", etc, were responded to with a shake of his head.

Finally with the last question asked, and the post-op teaming shuffling out the door she turned back to the teen and gave a warm smile.

"I know this is real scary love but just trust us. I promise you we will do everything we can to help you recover. In the meantime I'm going to give you something to sleep. You're going to need plenty of rest."

She waited till he gave a hesitant nod, giving his consent, before she reached over and injected the sleeping medication left by the other nurses into his IV. She wanted to continue to question him. To ask him all about the ghostly figure and all the other strange things that happened to him in the trauma room but she stopped herself. He needed rest and he needed to heal. Her badgering the poor boy to sate her curiosity would do him no good.

She waited until his eye slowly closed and his breathing slowed before letting out a choked sigh. Running a quick hand over the boys cheek she couldn't help but wonder who would do this to the teen.

She quietly made her way out the room, turning off the lights and softly closing the door as she did. Turning to the hallway opposite the room she found it strangely devoid of life. Sure it was the night shift but usually there were at least one or two staff members bustling by. And hadn't the post-op team just left? Where were they? Her musings were cut short by footsteps echoing down the hall and a tall dark skinned man wearing peculiar red clothing turned the corner. Her early thoughts left to the side she made her way towards the stranger.

"Excuse me sir! You're not allowed back here, this area is only for staff and pati-", her words were cut off by the man thrusting a stick into her face and whispering.

"Obliviate"* he muttered and suddenly Sherry Wallace forgot all about the poor boy and the strange events surrounding him.

Harry blinked awake once more, preparing himself for the agony he awoke to before. Yet as his consciousness returned to him bit by bit he realized all the pain he felt the day before was gone, replaced by a dull ache throughout his body. He could also see out of both eyes as well, the previous obstruction of gauze pads and swelling missing, though his vision was still just as useless considering he had no clue where his glasses were.

Something about the blurry smudge of colors displayed in front of him was familiar however. A slight nagging thought appeared in the back of his mind, telling him he should recognize those smudges but his mind was still too hazy from the sleep and drugs to recall.

Finally after a few minutes of gathering his thoughts and strength he made to sit up only for the dull pain throughout his body to turn into a burning pain. A groan left his lips and he slumped back onto the bed.

"Oh Mr. Potter! Careful you do not need to be moving in your current state!", a feminine voice sounded out somewhere from his left. He knew that voice, and from the voice he also recognized the smudgy room in his vision. It was one he became acutely aware of over the years after his more dangerous escapades. He had somehow found his way to be in the Hogwarts hospital wing.

"Mad'me P'mfrey?", his hoarse throat questioned. His answer came in the form of a slimy substance being forced past his lips and a pair of glasses thrust upon his face. He gagged at the taste at first before swallowing the offending liquid down, eyes slowly focusing through the new lenses. They weren't his glasses and the prescription wasn't perfect but they would do. The face of the Hogwarts matron above him still somewhat fuzzy but discernible.

"Just stay still as best you can." she said before pressing a straw to his lips. Cool water slid down his throat easing the dryness with the previous potion easing the pain before hand. "You were in quite the state. Those muggle healers did a decent job of patching you up regardless of some of their more barbaric practices. Honestly, wires and screws?", the matron huffed, muttering on about muggle health practices. She waved her wand over his body in an oval motion for a few minutes, stopping every now and then at certain spots on his body to note something down with her dicta-quill. The terminology she used confused him but he got the gist of it. He was pretty banged up.

"Now tell me Mr. Potter, how do you feel? I can discern somewhat from my readings but a good honest rating from you is much better in my opinion.", she questioned with interest, eyebrows slightly knit in concern.

He licked his lips once before opening his mouth to answer, "I feel-", he paused. How did he feel? Yes the physical pain wasn't great. The potions helped but he felt as if he shouldn't try sitting up again regardless. But there was something else. After certain calmness? No. Emptiness. Like a heavy fog was lifted in his mind and he could see the distant horizon for the first time in forever. Thoughts whizzed through his head quickly and unimpeded. Whereas before he felt as if he needed to fight through a haze of noise to focus on one, now they came to him in an instant clear and concise. He remembered one excitable boy in year 3 of primary come in one day spouting about some medication his parents got his physician to prescribe. Claimed it was supposed to make him sit still but the doctor also said he would, in his own words, "pay attention more well". He supposed this feeling was similar to how the boy felt after taking his medication.

Coming back to the conversation he made to explain all this, "I feel-" a loud growl sounded from his stomach making him smile sheepishly, "hungry?". Pomfrey merely rolled her eyes with a slight chuckle before reaching over to the bedside table. "Take these and then I'll see what the kitchens can send up. We'll still with soup and softer foods for now as your jaw and esophagus are still healing." she said while grabbing the three potion vials sitting on the table. With an absent wave of her wand the bed slowly began to raise him to a sitting position.

After taking the potions, each more unpleasant tasting than the last, Harry was brought a trowel of warm broth. Despite his sputtering protests, the matron insisted on spoon feeding him. He only gave in to her demand when he tried to hold the spoon himself, only for his hand to tremble wildly from the small effort and spill the liquid down his shirt.

Finally, after a few minutes of teenage embarrassment, Harry was fed and was fighting to stay awake. Before long, however, the boy who lived succumbed to his weariness. He didn't remember closing his eyes.

He awoke after sometime with a bit of reluctance. His sleep was free from the nightmares and painful visions that had so plagued him the last two months. The guilt over Cedric's death was still fresh, and reliving it in his dreams over the last month and a half nearly drove the boy insane. The visions of Voldemort he would receive through their connection did not help things much either. Needless to say,

the absence of both allowed for the best rest he's had in years.

Giving in to his impending consciousness, Harry opened his eyes and was greeted by the familiar blurry smudge of Albus Dumbledore. Sliding on his glasses, the teen made to sit up. The pain was lesser than the day before yet he only succeeded with the help of the wisened wizard.

Stepping back Dumbledore peered at Harry over his half-moon spectacles, seeming to glance over his body quickly pausing momentarily at the bandaged areas.

"I fear asking if you've had a good summer would be quite moot at this point my boy.", Dumbledore finally said after a few moments of silence. His voice had an undertone of humor in it, but his eyes still roamed over his injuries with a look of sadness and guilt. "I am so sorry that this happened Harry, truly. We were supposed to keep you safe. I was supposed to keep you safe."

Harry's eyes widened at that statement. "It wasn't your fault professor!", he blurted out quickly, "Just a bit of bad luck on my part. I went out to the park the neighborhood over, kind of a way to get away I guess? I never would stay out too late though, at least until the other night.", he told the bearded man.

The memories of that night came rushing back. It had been a long day with the already exhausted teen getting little to no sleep the night before thanks to a vision of Voldemort. His aunt running him ragged with chores the entire day as well as it as her day to host bridge club and the house needed to be absolutely spic and span. After he was kicked to the curd before the guests could arrive, he had trudged over to the neighboring park, avoiding the one near Privet Drive as it was one of Dudleys favorite spots to bully the younger kids. He had lost track of time that day from all the exhaustion and stress. Walking back to the Dursleys was tiring enough so he had taken a shortcut that he really shouldn't have.

"I was almost out of the alley when suddenly this one bloke came out from nowhere. Told me to empty my pockets. I tried to turn back but two of his friends had snuck up behind me. When they realized I didn't have any money or anything valuable at all really they got angry. Really angry…" he rambled off. Remembering the feeling of the first blow to the back of the head cause him to wince. He had tried to fight back but being unable to grab his wand, the strength of his skinny body was all he had to rely on. He remembered he had managed to lash out once or twice after the three criminals had started attacking. One even produced a very satisfying cracking sound before a fist had made contact with his gut and he fell to the ground. After that everything got hazy. He remembered only the blinding pain throughout his body that seemed to never end before everything went dark.

He didn't describe any of this to the headmaster but when Harry saw the look on the old man's face he quickly assumed that the man had filled in the blanks. It was a look of sadness and anger, something he had never seen before on the mans face.

Dumbledore quickly composed himself before affixing him with a sympathy filled stare. "Be that as it may, it is still my duty to ensure your safety from all threats, magical or mundane. I have had many failings in my life Harry, small and grand, yet allowing you to come to such dire harm this way has been the greatest failing of them all.", Dumbledore said with a sigh.

Hearing the headmaster say such a thing warmed his heart funnily enough. He had always held admiration for the man and although Harry had his on frustrations with the headmaster from time to time, it felt great to know his mentor cared for him greatly as well.

"I don't blame you, professor, but thank you. For caring." The wizard gave Harry a slight smile at that before speaking, "Well, I should let you rest. You don't need to worry about the blithering of an old man like me when you should be building your strength."

The headmaster made to leave when the teen was struck with a stray memory from the hospital. "Wait sir! There was one more thing." he called out. Dumbledore stopped abruptly and turned back to the teen. Harry continued, "At the hospital, there was a moment. I don't know if I hallucinated it or what have you, but all I know was one minute I was…one minute I was dying. Everything was dark around me and then suddenly I was pulled back. I don't remember what happened after that but I do know I saw two red eyes and I heard *his* laugh. Do you think he was there? At the hospital trying to finish me off?"

The headmaster shook his head, "Thankfully my boy no I do not. If he had then we would have had a much bigger tragedy on our hands as I do not believe Tom would have left the hospital standing. It could have been a glimpse through your shared connection. There is very little knowledge on a connection such as yours and his so I fear we cannot know for certain." Dumbledore stated, with a hand coming up to stroke his beard in thought.

Thinking for a moment the teen responded, "But that's the thing professor. Ever since then I can't…feel that connection anymore. No nightmares or visions either and I feel great! Not physically at least, trust me my ribs bloody hurt right now, but mentally it's like this sort of fog has lifted? I don't know how to describe it well but I feel as if there was a weight of some sort removed." he described, looking back up to the headmaster for an answer. Yet all he was greeted with was a shock still man with his snow white eyebrows raised up to his hairline.

Suddenly the headmaster was by his side again. Holding either side of his head and gazing at his scar. The man raised his wand up and touch it to the scar of Harry's forehead. Muttering in an unknown language under his breath. A bright blue light shone from the headmasters wand and the man stepped back with a wide grin on his face.

"You really can't feel it can you? The connection with Voldemort. Tell me my boy, has your scar hurt at all since then? Have you felt any dark or angry thoughts in the back of your mind?" the man questioned urgently, albeit with the smile still present on his lips.

Harry shook his head quickly and the headmaster let out a loud laugh. "Wonderful, simply wonderful! It's gone Harry, your link with Voldemort is gone completely." he laughed out.

Harry's eyes widened before he sank back into the bed. Relief flooded his body. Relief from the fact that the link with the crazed man who murdered his parents was gone for good. Tears sprung up into his eyes and he looked up at his mentor with a watery grin.

"So what now professor?"

"Now my boy, everything changes."

Author's Note

Well here we are. The first chapter of a new adventure in the world of Harry Potter. I'm excited to see where this goes and please let me know what you think!

More stories like this can be found through the l ink in my profile.