Fireman

He still had no idea how long went by as his mind drifted in and out. Days? Weeks? Months? None of it made sense to him, and there wasn't a calendar or clock in his room to tell him. It didn't help that the medical wizards and witches still didn't talk to him, and he guessed he must still be having incidents with them that he didn't remember.

One day he had enough, and in a burst of consciousness he spoke. "Dobby!"

"Great Harry Potter Sir!" Dobby popped in and exclaimed.

"Dobby." Harry spoke quickly. "How long has it been since I last saw you?"

Dobby rubbed his temples. "Err… It has been three weeks, Harry Potter Sir."

It wasn't as bad as he thought then, but then again Dobby could have said three days and he would have believed the elf. He wetted his numb lips, feeling suddenly nervous. "Dobby, can you get me something that will help with my mind?"

"Your mind, sir?" Dobby asked, looking at him intelligently with concern written across his features.

"My mind isn't okay." He explained, hoping the elf understood. "I'm not consciously thinking most of the time, and its likely after I talk to you I'll go back to not remembering anything for a while. I just need something that will help, and no one here seems to be doing anything about it."

Dobby stared at him before popping away without saying a word. For a moment Harry thought the elf would leave him like everyone else had, before shoving his concerns away.

He didn't know how long, but guessed it was another few days till he was once again conscious. Several books had appeared on the table next to him, with a note on top stating Dobby had got them from the elves who worked in the Hogwarts library.

LABYRINTH: MIND STUDY FIRST EDITION

REMAGEN'S INDEX: MIND ARTS

AT LEAST MAKE THEM USE LEGILIMENCY

Harry looked at them before picking out the middle book to read. They were thick books, ones he pictured Hermoine reading, and as he read the first few pages he felt uneasy.

There was a strong urge to simply toss the book as he read it, but he crushed it under the anger he felt. He couldn't escape the hospital and beat Voldemort if his mind didn't function properly, and if mind magic was the way to do it then so be it.

-

"Will Harry Potter's attention-seeking lies ever end? These are questions that we have been asking ourselves since the beginning of the Triwizard Tournament, and have continued on past the end of the tournament and into the summer. As many of you are already aware, Chief Warlock, and Headmaster of Hogwarts, the aging Albus Dumbledore, has proclaimed the return of You-know-who, a deceased Dark Lord that was defeated over a decade ago. Sources close to the senile Headmaster claim that he is in cahoots with Mr. Potter, planning their next move from deep within Hogwarts walls. No doubt Mr. Potter is benefitting greatly from the Defeater fo Grindlewald's private tutoring, in their bid to next take over the Ministry-"

"That's enough of that." Harry cut her off, causing Astoria to giggle. He rolled his eyes, not even bothering to give the stupid article any thought.

"But Harry, don't you have private tutoring to attend to with Dumbledore?" Astoria asked innocently, barely managing to maintain her composure. "He's having you do sprints, right? Just like how you ran around the quidditch pitch this morning."

Harry snorted, looking down at his bandaged body. He still had to use a wheelchair to get around. "I can't believe some people actually believe that rubbish."

Astoria laughed, before a sour expression took over her face. "My roommates believe it, and I would have before… you know. I mean, it's not like there's anyone telling them differently."

"And Dumbledore isn't helping." Harry nearly growled the words, feeling an immense dislike of the man growing by the day. "He's not much better than the Prophet if he's letting them get away writing junk like that."

"Finally starting to see Dumbledore isn't all he's cracked up to be? The article calls him senile, after all."

"You just don't like him because you're a Slytherin."

"True." Astoria shrugged. "But you're not exactly defending him."

"And he's not defending me." Harry returned. "I honestly expected him to visit me at this point."

"Maybe he's afraid of the new raging parselmouth that's taken up residence in Saint Mungos." Astoria snickered. "I guess he stopped favoring you."

"Dumbledore's never favored me." Harry replied.

Astoria snorted disbelievingly. "Daphne told me that at the end of first year he awarded you several hundred points. And that he even changed the rules to allow you, a first year, on to the Quidditch team. He even let you compete in the tournament last year."

Harry grit his teeth an inhaled sharply as he fought back a harsh retort. "At the end of my first year, the Defense Professor tried to choke me to death. I had to burn him alive with accidental magic to save myself."

Astoria paled dramatically and gaped at him, but he continued on. "I never wanted to compete in the tournament, I never put my name in, or even went anywhere near the Goblet. Yet my name came out anyways, and I was told that I had to compete or my magic would kill me. Even with me being told that, it didn't stop members of your house from wearing those stupid badges and trying to make my life hell. I certainly didn't see any of Dumbledore's favoritism then."

Astoria winced, looking abashed. "Sorry. I didn't mean it like that."

"I can see how you would see it that way." Harry said, his tone no longer as harsh. "But the fact is that every year at Hogwarts my life has been put in danger one way or another, and I guess Dumbledore somehow gets involved in a way that makes it look like I'm being favored when I'm not."

-

Even though they had wands, the nurses still unwrapped his bandages by hand. It took longer than he liked, and he also just told them to cut it away before biting his tongue. He was still angry, but it wouldn't do to snap at people randomly. The Hospital staff seemed to have finally warmed up to him, and he didn't want to ruin that.

One of the witches conjured a mirror, handing it to him to take. He looked back at his reflection, feeling in a place between disappointed and satisfied with his appearence. His skin was now pale, with strange patches throughout his body where his old, more tan, skin remained. There were bumps and cuts too, especially on his arms, reminiscent of the scars from dark magic that Professor Moody was covered in. His most defining features were definitely his black hair and his green eyes, which almost seemed to glow in an eerily similar color to the killing curse.

He felt like Frankenstein, with his scarred ghostly pale skin and black hair, and was sure most people would rather run away than speak to him now. The mediwitches in the room seemed happy for him, and he guessed he should feel happy as well. He was lucky to be alive after all, much less moving around and returning to Hogwarts.

"Congratulations Mr. Potter." One of them smiled at him. "If you're feeling up to it, we can officially discharge you in a couple of hours."

Harry nodded, and the woman continued smiling before leaving the room.

He took a shower, and the water ran over his skin like it was ceramic. It didn't feel right, but the warm water left him feeling better than he had in months. He soon left the hospital, and he couldn't help but frown when he walked out the front door and didn't find anyone waiting for him. Usually either Dumbledore or the Weasleys would be waiting for him in times like this.

Dobby appeared with a pop, and apparated Harry to Privet Drive. His belongings were never delivered to his room in Saint Mungos, and he guessed that they had somehow been dropped off at Privet Drive. He had learned a couple weeks ago that Dobby could no longer apparate into his relatives' home for some reason, so it was up to Harry to retrieve his things in person.

He simply walked in, hearing the tv blaring from the other room and deciding against talking to his relatives. He walked upstairs, saw his trunk sitting on his bed, took it, and left. Dobby waited for him outside, and he walked over to the elf before something cold prickled against his numb skin.

The sky darkened, and for the middle of summer it sure became awfully cold out. Two black shapes descended from the sky towards him, and he heard his mother scream in the distant corner of his mind. He heard other noises too, of Voldemort and his Death Eaters as they tortured him to death. His own screams as his skin was flayed, cut and burnt-

Dementors. Why are there dementors here? He thought. "Dobby! Get us out of here!"

He watched the two dementors set their sights directly on him, and Dobby rushed over and apparated them away. They appeared in a large field, an abandoned cottage sitting in the middle of it on a hill.

Harry panted, using what he learned from occulmency to keep conscious. He hadn't fallen out of consciousness control of his mind in weeks at this point, and it would be bad for him to start now.

The flapping of wings sounded out, and he looked up to see an owl coming for him. It wasn't Hedwig, which upset him, but a common brown colored owl. It dropped off a letter telling him he had committed underrage magic, and that he had a hearing at the ministry over his underrage magic offense and breaking of the statute of secrecy.

"Shit." Harry muttered, he hadn't even been out of the hospital for an hour and already his life was going to hell.

Has Voldemort already taken over? The thought ran through his mind before he discarded it. Voldemort would have killed him at this point if that was the case, not bothering with letting him run free.

"Dobby will protect Great Harry Potter Sir!" Dobby said suddenly, and Harry looked over. The elf was rallying himself, his sad, slumped posture straightening as he gained a fierce resolve. "Dobby knows how to help Harry Potter Sir with the Ministry. But Harry Potter needs to bond with Dobby."

He stared at the elf, actually feeling somewhat taken back by the intensity in the elf's stare. Dobby glared at him as if daring Harry to refuse him.

Hermione would kill me for actually considering taking Dobby as my own House elf. The thought ran through his mind, and he put it aside, feeling a small spark of anger. Hermoine hadn't sent him a letter or talked to him all summer, he could care less about what she had to say now.

"Very well." Harry said, suddenly realizing how raspy his voice sounded. "I'll take you as my personal elf, Dobby."

Dobby stared at him before yelling out in glee. He hugged Harry's leg, before doing a victory lap around the field till he calmed down.