In the Crosshairs
Dragon Voldemort
Chapter 107: Healer
Harry sweated as he slept, beneath the moonlight that poured beneath.
Mouths without mouths, the wings that flew them, above the head, as they descended onto a helpless soul.
"Nasty," Voldemort said, "Can you imagine that Potter? Your essence as a midnight snack? Any friends you have will never be safe at Hogwarts."
A disapparation, apparation, idle figure of a slain werewolf.
"He defied me ages ago," Voldemort said, "He'll never need to worry about your new pets."
Harry shuddered as he slept.
…
Ron woke to a thud and a crunch, and to Harry wetting the bed. A glance, Notley stood in the open doorway, watching in the moonlight. Ron got up off the bed, went to the doorway.
"He's…" Notley whispered.
Ron glanced as Gia's sleeping self worked Harry's earlobe, the wetting idled.
"Downstairs," Ron whispered.
Notley turned, went for the stairs. Ron stopped, the wall between the lavatory and stairs had a door frame around brick.
"What is it?" Notley asked.
"I don't know," Ron said, the frame refused to budge.
Ron's wand out, he tapped.
"Alohamora," Ron said, aimed.
"Dunno," Ron muttered.
Ron went down the stairs, a hard right through the living room, he went to the dining table, sat. Notley sat across, both illuminated by the moonlight that came in.
"Yes," Ron said, "We have a sixteen year old bed wetter, and I'm at risk."
Notley snorted. Ron spotted the half eaten bowl of macaroni, reached for it, warm though it gave him a shock.
"Do not steal Harry Potter's nighttime snack," Dobby said.
Ron glanced at the House–Elf.
"It's Harry's?" Ron asked.
"Harry Potter came for late night snack," Dobby said, "Luckily Dobby saved helping for Harry Potter."
"You are a good House Elf," Ron said, gave Dobby a pat to the head, "Make sure there's always a good snack ready for Harry, and let us know what he eats."
"Dobby is a good House Elf," Dobby said.
Dobby vanished.
"Maybe we got through to Harry?" Ron said, "Not sure it'll last, I know Voldemort will try to squash it. A weak Harry is an easy conquest."
"Time will tell, it always does," Notley said, "Didn't expect a bedwetter—no, not worthy of informing the coaches, unless he gets too dehydrated."
"He drinks tea more often than he eats," Ron said, "No, Gia knows the trick to soothe him, she does it in her sleep."
Notley snorted. Ron stood, went over to the kitchen, started the kettle. Outside, the moonlight already being replaced by daylight.
"His bedwetting," Ron said, "It's not from nightmares, it's Voldemort torturing him. Doesn't make our tasks any easier."
Ron turned. Notley shook his head.
"Not sure what I was expecting when I came here," Notley said, "Still, I can treat better when I know you all better."
A whistle, Ron carried the kettle back to the table. Ron turned the tea cups, added in leaves, and poured in the hot water.
"Fix my bollocks so they don't wither off and you've gained a lot," Ron said.
"I'm amazed you pulled that off," Notley said, "You had pictures, Harry went empty for a day."
Ron sipped at his tea, mulled it over.
"The team…" Ron said, "Understand that people are dying, some are friends, others he's never met. We're dealing with an enemy that quashes our allies. Us signing up for the team could easily make you the next targets of violence."
"They're taking all security precautions," Notley said.
"This house which Dumbledore shook out of somewhere a week ago," Ron said, "Our last home, that of the muggle police chief, was destroyed by Death Eaters."
Ron sipped his tea.
"Castration meant that our impostors can't rape in our name," Ron said, "Bit of solace in that, I suppose."
Notley took a biscuit, nibbled.
"I'm a healer because I found it rewarding to help," Notley said, "Through my skill, I save many from horrible fates. Now that I know what I'm up against, I'd still like to help, team or not."
Ron heard the clink from the mail cauldron. Ron went over, picked up the paper and letters.
"Um…" Ron muttered, "Oh…no, not this."
Ron opened the paper, the carcass of the dead werewolf front and center.
=v=v=v=v=v=v=v=v=v=v=v=v=v=v=v=
Tuesday 25 March 1997
Werewolf Stopped
Residents of the village of Mogmore can now breath again now that the rampage of a vicious werewolf has been put to a permanent end. Successfully tracking and hunting the dangerous creatures, a consortium of Ministry officials and concerned citizens cornered and killed the beast.
Calls have been renewed for stronger Anti–Werewolf legislation to enact better controls and safeguards against these terrifying dark creatures.
Ron closed the paper, shoved it underneath the sofa, brought the letter over to the table, and slid it underneath the centerpiece.
"How bad?" Notley asked.
Ron pointed to the half eaten bowl.
"This was a goddamn miracle," Ron said, "It's going to be worse today, because…his late father's close friend was bitten years ago, been coaching Harry for months. They denied him Wolfsbane Potion, they released him into the wild, and they slayed him for being a mentor to Harry."
"Going to lie to him?" Notley asked.
Ron slid the letter back out.
"No," Ron said, "He needs to know."
Ron grabbed the letter, went for the stairs, to the top. Brick now replaced by an open doorway, inside, large wall of brick, the ceiling shone bright sunlight down, and a track of grass and sand that went around it, a large pond in the middle. Harry's bare feet sent up sand with each stride.
"Dumbledore sent us the Room of Requirement," Harry said as he came to a halt by Ron, "It's…well, I could actually go to the real beaches like I've been doing. Except, we know how those get found out. Maybe invite Richard to spend the nights, we could run in the mornings."
Harry glared at Ron.
"What?" Harry asked.
Ron grabbed Harry, pulled him to the edge of the pond, and they sat down on the sand. Right arm around the back of Harry, Ron handed Harry the letter.
"You're—" Harry started.
"Thought about hiding it," Ron said, "But that's not fair."
"You read it," Harry said, working the parchment open.
"No," Ron said.
Harry's ears tinged green as he read the parchment covered in tear stains.
=v=v=v=v=v=v=v=v=v=v=v=v=v=v=v=
Harry,
Moony was killed, sorry.
Padfoot
Ron held Harry tight, pulled him in, and Harry leaned over.
"You're…" Harry started.
"A friend," Ron said.
Ron waited.
"You can talk with that Healer downstairs," Ron said, "Or, sulk up here."
"You're…" Harry repeated.
"I'm here, now," Ron whispered.
"You realize you're going to be executed too, right?" Harry asked.
"I'll volunteer if I have to," Ron said, "I… I'll walk with you."
"Can't talk you out of it?" Harry asked.
"Nope," Ron said, "Besides, You–Know–Who's going to have people with him. Only an idiot would think of challenging the Dark Lord by himself. You're not that sort of idiot, take this from the other idiot in Hermione's life."
Harry snorted.
"I want to make them pay," Ron said, "I need you, alive."
"Oh," Harry said.
"Voldemort ain't playing easy," Ron said, "We'll lose more people if that Neville's correct, so we need to keep recruiting. That Notley downstairs seems like a good volunteer."
Harry sighed.
"I'm going to the stadium today," Ron said, "I'm letting him examine me, and I want you there in case something goes wrong, so you can avenge my death."
Ron eased up, stood.
"I'm getting breakfast," Ron said, "I'd like the conversation."
"Cheerful I'm sure," Harry said.
Ron reached down, pulled Harry upright.
"I'm hungry," Ron said.
"You're always hungry," Harry grumbled.
Ron went for the door, stopped on the compact upper landing.
"Got an idea," Ron said, "Maybe after he fixes my bollocks, we trade left ones."
"What?" Harry asked.
"In case something does happen," Ron said, "I safeguard one of yours, you safeguard one of mine."
"I appreciate your enthusiasm gentlemen," said Notley from the lavatory, "I'm not sure that's the right call."
Harry glared at Ron.
"Let's focus on not needing the plan in the first place," Notley said.
Ron turned Harry, a slight push, and they went down the stairs.
"You're getting really pushy," Harry said, "Maybe lose the bollocks?"
Harry stepped into the living room, Ron gave Harry another light push.
"Be the first to be castrated twice," Harry said.
Ron reached down, patted Harry's rear.
"Or push here and bang before breakfast?" Ron asked.
"Weasley," Harry grumbled.
"Proud of it," Ron said as he let go.
Ron went over to the table, empty of Gia or Hermione, however, a cauldron was on it. Ron opened it. Aroma strong with the biscuits, sausage, and gravy. Ron grabbed a plate.
"First…" Ron put a sausage and a biscuit, light on gravy, and set it down toward Harry.
Harry glared.
"Suit yourself," Ron said.
Ron piled on a few sausages, three biscuits, and covered it with the gravy. Set that down in front of him, and sat. Harry remained standing. Harry took a fork, poked at the lone sausage on the other plate.
"It's delicious though," Ron said.
"You're…" Harry muttered, his head shook.
"These are horrific," said Notley.
A turn of the head, Notley on the armchair, his eyes examined the book, Ministry: Penal Devices.
"Your implants were…I meant, are torture devices, because circumvention is clearly impossible," Notley said, "You're forced into taking them."
Harry glanced at Ron. Ron glanced at Notley.
"Practicing for questions," Notley said, "It'll come up."
"Aw," Ron said.
"Dumbledore didn't realize it, so his question was germane," Notley said, "However, if yours were leaking as you described, you would've already been dead. You didn't save them did you?"
Ron shook his head.
"Would've helped to have seen them," Notley said.
"We wanted them gone," Harry said, "We didn't think."
Ron watched Harry dip the sausage link in the gravy. Harry took a bite, slid against the gravy, and took a second bite. Harry put the fork down.
"Girls?" Ron asked.
"Upstairs," Notley said, "Gia checked out fine."
"Hermione?" Ron asked.
"Didn't check her," Notley said.
Harry disapparated.
"He's too young for a license," Notley said.
"Didn't stop him," Ron said, "He has to try to splinch, can't do it accidentally."
"Good," Notley said, "That stuff gets reported."
"Only if we stay splinched," Ron said, "Watch."
Ron focused, his right hand vanished to appear in front of Notley.
"Ouch," Notley said.
"Now…" Ron focused his mind again, the sharp desire, the charm within his mind, and his right hand returned. "Not as easy as Harry can." Ron flexed his fingers, added a couple more sausages to his plate. "Like they'd give me a license—nope, it'd be revoked even if it were issued."
Ron finished the rest of his plate as Harry came back down the stairs.
Burp!
"They're fine?" Ron asked.
Harry nodded.
"Go back to the stadium?" Ron asked as he stood.
Harry nodded.
"Where's the Floo Powder?" Notley asked as he stood.
"Not connected," Harry said, "And warded. It'd kill anybody who tried."
"Here," Ron said to Notley.
Ron motioned. Harry stepped in, held both hands, closed his eyes. A mutter, the determination, and they disapparated.
…
Harry apparated with Ron and Notley, into Coach Meyer's office.
"You're going to worry Darrell," Notley said, "Wards are supposed to prevent it, forcing you to the apparation point, or splinching those who insist."
"Get Harry to strengthen them," Ron said.
"I need to talk to Darrell first," Notley said, "Spend a bit of time in the premium box seats and come down after that, or wait in the examination room."
Notley directed them, out of the club room, to a corridor. Harry's feet to the carpet, Harry went to the railing, with its view of the Quidditch Pitch. On it, figures already on brooms, flying.
Ron snorted.
"What?" Harry asked him.
"We'll get them trained too," Ron said, "Gotta let them in so they know when you like it rough."
Harry shook his head, stared back over the pitch. Katie Bell flew past with the Quaffle.
"Lets go and make sure my bollocks can do the job," Ron said.
"Our top priority," Harry quipped.
"Of course," Ron said as they walked back along the corridor.
Hard left through the club room, the office doors open without occupants. Past the trophies, and another hard left onto the stairs. Down to the junction, the right along the short hall, and the right into the locker room. Team huddle room directly ahead, they crossed over to the adjacent door, knocked.
"See the lovely beauties flying?" Notley asked as he opened the door.
"Cooperate and we can get a bit closer," Ron said.
Harry felt the push, Ron's push, and stepped into the room.
"Darrell will be happy to hear that," Notley said as he closed the door.
Ron's wand out, aimed to the door, and vanished. Notley went past, to the standing desk that had stacks of three differently colored file folders.
"Pay attention," Notley said, holding up the blue and white one with Puddlemere United written on it, "This is the official team chart, it is subject to league public disclosure rules. I have filled out the dossier using details from The Daily Prophet and Witch Weekly. I will update it at the end of camp, and periodically throughout the season. Details will include your weight."
Notley held up the white folders.
"These are standard issue at St. Mungo's and Hogwarts and about every other Healer," Notley said, "Standard health charts and notes, these are subject to the strict regulations about doctor and patient confidentiality, which are pretty tight, however, spills have happened before. With you, I would not be surprised if there's an invasion to search for these—we will put some details in so they leave satisfied, also useful if I need to refer you to a specialist."
Notley pointed to the small stack, manila mixed with Christmas and other themes.
"Discount and bargain clearance sales because I buy these," Notley said, "I scatter a couple within the others to give reason for their existence, however, yours will be with me, as secure as I can make them, because I need to know the full and true picture to treat you with the best care possible. Understand?"
Harry nodded.
"Weasley's bollocks," Notley said, "I will detail the treatment, but I won't write the truth even in this." He pointed to the manila. "Now, according to this—" he pointed to the white. "Those implants are giving you cramps or something…I'm still working it out." Notley pointed to the blue. "I doubt anything needs to go here, but if it does, it's poison control."
"Thank you," Ron said.
"Anorexia will live here," Notley pointed to the manila. "It will likely make it here." He pointed to the white. "If your weight is acceptable in time for camp, it won't go here." He pointed to the blue. "That is the tale I'd like to keep, but that depends on you." His eyes stared at Harry. "I swear not to let you get fat."
Harry snorted.
"Ask any auror," Notley said, "Good health gives you the best chances to defeat your opponent. Dumbledore knows that."
"We need to train him up," Ron said to Harry.
"Train?" Notley asked.
Harry spotted the concern in Notley's eyes.
"You're leaking information," Ron said, "It's why I know you're being truthful. However, it'll stay out of every file you have."
"I expect I'll be keeping a lot of secrets with you two," Notley said.
"Not all legal either," Harry said, "Even ignoring the recent act."
A glance at Ron.
"Lets get to this," Ron said as he stepped onto the scale.
"This can be private," Notley said.
"Harry needs the example," Ron said.
Notley opened a manila folder, stuck it on the clipboard, and brought out a pen in his left hand. A click, he began to jot down notes.
"Ron, lay on your back," Notley said.
Ron moved, did this, on his back on the examination table.
"I think you're close enough," Notley said, "Lemme start with the scars I see."
Notley pointed to the darkened spot on Ron's left big toe.
"Annihilation curse last week," Harry said.
Notley worked the foot.
"He tripped on a trap," Harry said.
Notley continued up the legs, as Harry cited off the reasons for each scar and blemish on Ron, some more faded than others. Harry understood, the marks that had been accumulating.
"Your friend trusts you," Notley said, "You're clever—I'd even give you outstanding for…" Notley pointed at Ron's crotch. "Good hearts, but you're still amateurs, students. This isn't something where you can try again later, his life is in your hands. You need a regular Healer."
Ron sat up, his blue eyes to Harry, the freckled face.
"He's got my recommendation," Ron said.
"I think we can take care of most of the blemishes," Notley said.
Notley reached up onto the shelf, grabbed a bottle, a shot glass, and poured in a light green liquid. He handed the shot glass to Ron, and Ron drank it.
"Not strictly necessary," Notley said, "But I cater to vanity too."
Ron grinned.
"Now, the one more pressing," Notley said as he switched folders, "Harry?"
"I'll lift you," Ron promised Harry.
Harry went, stood on the scale.
"It checks your blood pressure too," Notley said, "Bit fancier than what Hogwarts has."
Notley handed Harry a shot glass of the same light green liquid.
"This'll speed up the inventory too," Notley said, "And a fast check, mind?"
Notley bared his wand in his left hand, aimed downward. Harry breathed.
"Let him," Ron said, "Anything else, and I'll avenge it."
Harry unsure to Notley's concern, though the mind focused back to Harry.
"Light nick on your vas deferens tube," Notley said, "Not like she did that charm often…there. Yours went easier, didn't it?"
"It hurt, but yeah," Harry said, remembering the doubling over on the bed afterward, "It was like getting kicked there."
"They shouldn't have even put you in that position," Notley said
Notley's hand to Harry's shoulder, the eyes that fixed onto Harry's, showed the ire, the disgust to the torment inflicted. Nothing else noticeable aside from the concern he had toward Harry.
"Ta," Harry said.
"Have a seat," Notley said, "I'm getting Darrell."
Harry sat on the examination table, next to Ron, both legs over the edge. Notley left the room, and immediately returned with Coach Meyers. Meyers with his jacket over his white T–shirt, blue shorts, entered. Notley closed the door. Ron aimed his wand at the door.
"Privacy," Ron said.
"I went with partials to ease them into this," Notley said to Meyers, "Weasley's fit to play. Potter, I'll give him a bit of cake for cooperation, light practice with regular eating, daily checkups, and I'll do at least another night of home observation."
Coach Meyers turned to Harry.
"Before you protest," Coach Meyers said, "I trust Ben's judgment, his recommendations stand with me."
Coach Meyers leaned back against the wall, his eyes drifted downward.
"I'm also willing to admit my wrongs," Coach Meyers said, "It's going to take me time to adjust to you and your needs, get things right, and I apologize for any misunderstandings."
"Thank you," Harry said.
"I want to care for every player here," Coach Meyers said, "That includes you. So, yes, I consult with Dumbledore to try to understand you. Naturally, he's concerned for you too."
Ron snorted.
"He was my Transfiguration teacher when I met him," Coach Meyers said, "Oliver Wood advises me too, so I think I'm beginning to see the big picture, and I know better than to separate you two."
Harry nodded.
"We're going to the clubhouse first," Coach Meyers said, "After lunch, practice."
Notley handed over two pills, same as the previous day, the large pink and the smaller green one, along with a shot glass.
"You didn't?" Coach Meyers asked Notley.
"I reward cooperation," Notley said, "Take your pills, I'll give you a shot."
Harry knew he had eyes that watched, he put the pills in, tasted the sharpness of the Firewhiskey as he washed them down.
"I'll see you both upstairs to the clubhouse," Coach Meyers said, "As you noticed, it doubles as the cafeteria for practices."
"I've got a bit of work," Notley said, "Can you send a tray down for me?"
Coach Meyers went for the door.
"Got practice outfits in your lockers," Coach Meyers said.
Harry and Ron stopped by theirs, put on their white T–shirts, blue shorts. Both him and Ron followed the coach out of the locker room.
"I know you're able to break the wards, but lets not advertise it," Coach Meyers said, "Try to use the apparation points to come and go, the one by the player's entrance."
"Only Harry's capable of breaking them," Ron said.
Up the stairs, through the club room, a left, they went into the clubhouse.
"Looks like a bit more of a selection," Coach Meyers said.
Harry went up to the buffet counter, Ron with him.
"Know what you want?" Ron asked.
Harry stared at the Saag Aloo (potatoes with spinach), the rice, the tandoori chicken, the butter chicken, the naan nearby. Ron grabbed trays, plates. He began to scoop out the rice, the potatoes to both plates. Red tandoori chicken, the butter chicken, and grabbed some naan too.
"You're definitely hungry," Harry said.
"One of these is for you," Ron said.
Harry glared, Ron scowled back. Harry shook his head.
"Coach is watching," Ron said.
Harry carried the tray to the round table, sat. Ron sat to Harry's right. Ron's blue eyes focused on Harry.
"Eat," Ron said as he shoved a fork into Harry's hand.
"You're getting annoying." Harry moved the fork, into the butter chicken, and ate into it.
"I promise to be annoying," Ron said, "If I have to."
"You're nagging like a housewife," Harry snapped.
"Eat better and I'll shut up," Ron said.
Coach Meyers brought a tray over, the rice, the butter chicken, and the naan; his jacket billowed as he sat across from Harry and Ron.
"Need…" Harry started.
Harry's eyes scanned the counter, spotted it, the cans. His wand out, summoned over the soda into his hand. A turn of the tab, the pop, and he drank a bit of it.
"Didn't see the beer," Harry said.
"Likely better," Ron said, "We'd never hear the end of it coming back from this…drunk."
Ron worked through his food fast, his blue eyes kept glancing at Harry working slower. Half the chicken, more of the potatoes, and one slice of naan.
Burp!
Harry pushed the tray away from him.
"Can you honestly say your stomach is full? " Ron asked Harry.
Harry nodded. Blue eyes locked onto his greens, Ron's stare, the ones seeking his appetite.
"One more bite," Harry grumbled.
Harry ate another bit of the buttered chicken, washed it down with the soda.
"We are trying to fatten you up," Ron said.
Harry glared; Ron's freckled face grinned, the red eyebrows went up and down, and those blue eyes were still watching.
"You!" Harry snapped.
"Imagine Dudley going skinny," Ron said.
Ron poked at Harry's lower abdomen.
"See those girls flying out there?" Ron said, "We'll go ask them."
"You wouldn't—" Harry started.
"Bit of sage advice?" Coach Meyers asked.
Harry studied the older wizard, the one that had been around for some time, unsure if he was hiding hints of silver in the hair.
"While we do encourage friendship and camaraderie," Coach Meyers said, "We also encourage light teasing and insults, training you to shake it because our opponents will only give it worse."
"Nothing compared to Voldemort," Harry grumbled.
Coach Meyers flinched.
"Consider this practice for him," Coach Meyers said, "Things get mighty easy for him when you tear yourself down first."
"The advantage of having brothers," Ron said.
Harry watched Ron.
Burp!
Harry snorted. Coach Meyers blew his nose into the napkin.
"Lovely lunch," Coach Meyers said, "Indian food always clears my sinuses nicely."
"Yep," Ron said as he took a napkin to his nose.
"Grab a Nimbus 1000 from the broom closet, each," Coach Meyers said, "And Coach Kline will meet you out there."
Harry and Ron nodded. Ron stood first. Harry got up, followed, and walked with Ron.
"Let's go," Harry said.
Fast in determination, he wanted to fly, Harry walked fast, into the locker room, past the examination room, into the box that opened up to the pitch, and his hand went for the broom closet, a closet full of various makes and models. A few Shooting Stars, the Cleansweeps, the Comets, an sweeping array of Nimbus, the rack of Firebolts, and a few prototypes. Harry grabbed the Nimbus 1000, and turned for the opening to the pitch.
Stomach strangely full, sunshine hit Harry first as he stepped out onto the Quidditch pitch contained within the stadium. Nimbus 1000 in his hand was nothing compared to the sunlight within, burdens on his shoulders seemed to lift beneath the blue sky that showed above. Basked in the warmth of the light, the walls showed trees and woods of the canyon the stadium was set within. Harry figured it a magical effect, still, the openness. Blades of the green grass invaded between his toes.
Giggling.
Harry's hand stopped the broom from moving, he spotted the four girls that were sunning themselves on the grass in the center of the pitch, heads close together, all four crossways aimed away from each other. Harry stepped toward them.
"You really did that?" asked Anna McKenzie. The reserve chaser to his near right, brown hair that touched her shoulders.
"He deserved it," said Amy Greystok, "Cute, but a clone of my ex—no thank you."
Current reserve seeker, the position Harry was slated to take, Greystok's brunette hair on the grass, as she laid away from Harry, also on the right.
"Oh," said Kristi Marshall, "Who do we have here?"
A beater, on the near left as Harry approached. Her blue eyes on Harry, ones that took in his stature.
"Um…" Harry muttered, unsure why he even imposed, except they were gorgeous to see.
Fourth head moved, of Katie on the left away from Harry, rotated until her brown eyes fixated on the boy. Familiarity, the appreciation to him standing there, and a hint of concern.
"Potter!" exclaimed Katie Bell, "You're practicing?"
"Yes," Harry said, "Saw you…"
"Looks better in person than in the papers," Anna said.
"Even the lesbian likes you," Amy said.
Harry relaxed as he stood there, the center of attention, this time it felt good with the sunlight bearing down on him.
"I'll keep my mouth shut," Kristi said.
"No, don't," Harry said, "Mean…talking's fine."
Harry moved to sit between Katie and Amy, caught glance at Ron at the edge of the field, waiting.
…
Ron felt the sunshine as he stepped out onto the grass, the Nimbus 1000 in his hand. Harry stood over the four girls.
"Glad to see the interaction," said Coach Kline, in a white T–shirt, blue shorts, and a whistle that loitered on a chain around his neck. Firebolt in his hand.
"You…" Ron glanced at the Coach's eyes, "You suggested to the girls to practice, today didn't you?"
"You see conspiracies," Coach Kline said.
"It's a good plan," Ron said.
Ron watched Harry above the four girls.
"Gives Harry hope," Ron said, "Something he needs."
"Don't forget you're here to practice," Coach Kline said.
"He's worth fifteen minutes," Ron said, pointed at Harry. "You want to toughen him up, but he needs something to fall back onto. He's been at the eye of the storm for his entire life, even the best of defenses will fail if you don't keep bolstering them."
"Sounds like I should consult you on all things him," Coach Kline said.
Ron smiled, and watched Harry.
…
Harry caught sight of Coach Kline walking back into the locker room. Ron, Nimbus 1000 in hand, he walked in the sunshine over to them, stood where Harry had been.
"Two, even better," Katie said.
Harry turned, laid down between Amy and Katie; Ron did the same with Anna and Kristi.
"HALF HOUR BREAK!" Coach Kline shouted.
"Good to rest after lunch," Ron said.
"They're rarely that generous—only one reason," McKenzie said, "Why are you two here?"
"Practice," Ron said, "Suspended from Hogwarts, can't really fly there, guessing Dumbledore wants good results for the Quidditch Cup."
"Not practicing there today," Katie said, "Wood's helping them with a pest problem."
"Not surprised," Harry said, "Thousands, maybe more? And that's if they don't go breeding. Even if I weren't suspended, no way I could handle that many."
"You're dodging the answer and they're letting us socialize," Anna said, "You played Keeper and Seeker at Hogwarts, you bailed us out last fall."
"Weasley worked," Kristi said, "Potter—"
"You ought to be worried," Anna said, "Sure, training as a Keeper and Seeker for Hogwarts, but what if they like their playing better than existing players. That lines up Sedgwick, Wood, Shadwell, and… Greystok, two of whom should be worried.
"Are you implying—?" Greystok asked.
"You are one of two Seekers," Katie said, "Potter is a smarting good one at Hogwarts, never failed to catch the Snitch…when conscious."
Harry mulled it over.
"We're teaching Harry how to fly," Ron said.
"Liar," Katie said.
"I'm sure the coaches will do what's best for the team," Harry said, "Not like we can play any time soon in a real game."
Katie pulled Harry's shirt up and felt his ribs.
"Thin, very thin," Katie said, "Guessing you're disqualified on weight."
"How…?" Harry stammered.
Katie rolled to her side, faced Harry.
"Your weight's in The Daily Prophet with that…travesty!" Katie said, "And this…" she felt his stomach. "It's even less—no flab, nothing underneath. You're a light eater going on less. So I'm betting you're too light to play."
"Ron—" Harry started.
"Her observation," Ron said, "Though the extra help's appreciated."
Katie's eyes moved over Harry to Amy.
"Your job's not the conspiracy," Katie said, "I'd guess… conniving old bastard, Dumbledore pressured the coaches to train these two, to get Harry to a healer that didn't castrate him, to do the real job of getting him back up to a very sexy weight. And we're here today to provide a bit of…incentive and confidence to his new implants."
Katie's fingers felt downward.
"It's a plan I can get behind," Katie said.
Katie leaned in, kissed Harry on the cheek.
Shadow that loomed, Coach Kline hovered above them, a Quaffle between his hands.
"Alright gentlemen," Coach Kline said, "We'll work on flying today."
"I know how to fly," Harry said.
"Yes, but do you know how to really fly?" Coach Kline asked.
"Guess it's time," Ron said.
Harry stretched as he got up, mounted the Nimbus 1000.
"This is going to be slow," Harry said.
"Your broom's not legal," Ron said to Harry, "Neither's mine."
Harry, like Ron, began to hover, float.
"Ladies," Coach Kline said, "Please, loiter there for a while longer, your presence there is critical to their first lesson."
Harry felt the breeze, the heat of the sun as he flew upward, saw it, the trees to the other side, the small carved canyon in the woods; Ron next to him, until they hovered above one set of goals. Coach Kline bounced the Quaffle between his hands.
"You're riding the brooms," Coach Kline said, "Clearly in comfort."
Eyes that glanced at them in the sunshine as they hovered there.
"It's more than riding a broom," Coach Kline continued, "It's about making the broom do what you want it to do with the precision and control you need. So, lets start with concentration."
"I can focus," Harry said.
"We'll see," Coach Kline said, "We'll start by you buzzing those girls."
Ron snickered, the blue eyes that watched Harry's face. Coach Kline tossed the Quaffle to Harry; a slight imbalance, however, Harry caught it, held it.
"Hold that and buzz them at…say two feet above them, but don't let your toes touch," Coach Kline said, "This end to the other."
Harry glanced over at the four of them, still on the grass.
"They'll trust you not to hit them," Coach Kline said.
"Tough," Ron muttered.
"Meant to be," Coach Kline said, "Potter, dive fast, flat along the ground to that other goal, return across them, and back up. Go."
Harry moved, dove, his eyes on the girls, aimed for the ground, and pulled up. He focused between Katie and Amy, and as he began to pass he drifted. Harry's broom handle hit the grass to the other side of Kristi. Harry tumbled and the Quaffle rolled.
"Got him," Kristi said.
Harry stood, bowed to them, glanced back up at Ron laughing. Coach Kline motioned, Harry understood. Harry grabbed the Quaffle and mounted the broom. He flew back up into the air, returned to the Coach and Ron.
"If you can get past that distraction," Coach Kline said, "You'll get past the fans flashing their breasts in the stands."
"That was a bad one," Harry said.
"I've seen worse," Coach Kline said, "The twins, they couldn't pull out of the dive to start."
Ron snickered.
"You want to try?" Harry threw the Quaffle to Ron.
Harry watched Ron dive on the broom, not as deep as Harry remembered, though Ron hit the grass and rolled up against Amy.
"You'll get it," Coach Kline said to Harry, "It's practice, that's all."
Ron flew back up with the Quaffle, tossed it at Harry. Harry caught it.
"You're up," Coach Kline said to Harry.
Harry dove.
Hours had already passed. Harry hovered on the Nimbus 1000 around the goal post and watched Kristi. Her feet up on blocks near the middle with spread legs Harry accelerated as he focused.
"Go!" Ron shouted.
Harry sped toward the gap between Kristi's legs, the blocks made it tall enough for him to slip through. He landed on his back
"Almost," Kristi said, "Try again?"
"Sure," Harry said.
Harry spun the broom around, he flew back to the goal post, and waited. Harry began the move. Flying as fast as he could muster on the Nimbus 1000, Harry flew. Katie and Amy walked over from the locker room. Harry stopped and stepped onto the grass.
"Harry's fine with this," Ron said.
Harry glared at Ron. Amy stepped in front of Harry, while Katie went behind Harry.
"Anyways," Amy said to Harry, "Heard you're due for another examination."
Katie put her hands to Harry's armpits. Amy pulled Harry's legs forward out from beneath him, hooked his knees over her shoulders.
"Looks like an attack," Ron said, "I'll watch, and rescue you…later."
"Ta," Harry snapped.
Harry kept his knees bent.
"He's light," Katie said, "Yeah, it's an underweight issue. He's not eating, right Ron?"
Ron stayed quiet.
"I remember the word now," Amy said, "Anorexia."
"Ron," Harry snapped.
"It's not funny," Kristi said, "I had a cousin who died from it, not pretty. A bit more roundness would be great."
"Before Notley sends out a search and rescue," Katie said to Harry.
Amy and Katie carried Harry as they walked, toward the locker room. Ron and Kristi followed. Into the corridor, a fast right into the examination room. Notley was there.
"Get his weight up," Katie said, "It's too easy to carry him."
"See Harry?" Notley said, "You're at the point where you can't hide it, and I doubt you should trust anybody who isn't concerned."
"Oh," Harry muttered.
"My lesson for you wasn't in the flying," Notley said, "It's in the friends you have, the friends you can make, simply by being yourself. I hope their encouragement helps you through your toughest hour, because I understand that's still yet to come."
"I'm standing by you," Ron said, "Though I'll let them in on the fun."
"Ta," Harry grumbled.
"The Daily Prophet isn't everybody, neither is them killing your friend last night," Notley said, "The wizarding world's not as lost to you as you've been led to believe."
Amy teased Harry's stomach.
"Anyways." Notley brought out a sizable yellow pill. "Down to business, this will check your energy and magic, help me formulate a dietary plan." He handed it to Harry. "Once you're up to acceptable weight, we'll let you decide when it's good enough, or you let the ladies choose."
Harry snorted, took the pill. A shot glass, the Firewhiskey, and he swallowed it.
"Until later," Notley said, "Ladies, treat him gently."
"Or roughly," Ron said.
"You're next Weasley," Notley said.
Harry was carried out of the examination room, where Kristi stayed with Ron. Amy and Katie brought Harry into the showers, the hot water that poured down on his clothes. After the wash and dry, Harry walked with them, to their lockers.
"There's this new locker," Amy said, "Bears your name on it."
Harry opened it and changed.
"They can't force examinations of Hogwarts students either," Amy said, "He makes for a third Seeker."
"I'll find out," Harry promised.
Harry's wand out, he cast the Invisibility Charm, disapparated, apparated up into the box seating. Coaches Meyers, Kline, and Gerber were there.
"We do the same tomorrow?" Coach Kline asked.
"Variety," Coach Gerber said.
Harry disapparated, apparated into Coach Meyers' office. On the desk, he spotted it, the chart comparing Shadwell with Greystok. Harry counted the tick marks, tabulating season after season, the trend was obvious. Harry disapparated, apparated back into the locker room, where Katie and Amy were in front of their open lockers, brooms within.
"Nice try," Katie shouted.
Harry dropped his charm.
"You're good," Amy said, "Not supposed to do that in matches."
"Another flight first?" Harry asked Amy.
"Like the way you think," Amy said.
"Outside?" Harry asked.
Amy reached for her Firebolt.
"Too slow," Harry said.
"That's a Firebolt," Katie said.
Amy followed Harry to the examination room, Ron and Kristi there, door open. Notley handed Ron an orange potion, and Ron drank it.
"Ron," Harry said, "Mind if Amy borrows your broom?"
Ron's blue eyes unsure.
"Worse case, meet you up at class," Harry said.
Ron aimed his hand, his Firebolt II came out, with his name monogramed on it.
"Where'd you store that?" Kristi asked.
"One big dump," Ron said.
Amy glanced over the broom.
"No safety charms on it," Harry said, "Up for it?"
"Please no injuries," Notley said.
"She can fly," Harry said.
Harry spotted the appreciation in her blue eyes beneath the shoulder length light brown hair. Harry walked with her to the box with the field.
"Yours?" Amy asked.
Harry aimed, his holly broom hovered.
"Good question—where?" Amy asked.
"Lets fly," Harry said.
"Ain't outside," Amy said.
Harry mounted his. She mounted the Firebolt II.
"And…" Harry held her shoulder with his right hand, the left held the broom, and they flew up. A thought, they apparated out of the stadium, over the trees.
…
Ron ran out to the pitch, Notley and Kristi with him, as Harry and Amy apparated out.
"It's a date," Ron said.
"He'll be home?" Notley asked.
"Got class first," Ron said, "Then yes."
Ron returned to the examination room.
"Ready?" Ron asked the man inside.
"Here," Notley said.
Ron entered, Notley closed the door.
"How'd you rate today for Harry?" Notley asked.
"Morning news sucked," Ron said, "The practice…he's high as a kite."
Notley grinned.
"Wait until tomorrow," Ron said, "There's always something next punching him back down. However, routine practices…would help."
"You know how bad it's been getting for Harry," Notley said, "Don't you?"
"It's the reason we're even here," Ron said, "Help him change his attitude…"
Ron studied those eyes.
"Ready now?" Ron asked.
Notley opened the door, grabbed his duffel bag. Ron pulled out his Hogwarts Pin, activated it. Notley held on, and they were pulled away.
Tick…Tick…Tick…
That evening, Ron heard the clock as he studied the device in front of him on the table as the others watched, Harry directly across from Ron. Wires that went from the battery, to the timer, to the sticks of simulated dynamite. Ron held the wire snips in his hand, cut the wires between the battery and timer.
Buzz!
"Congratulations," said Shane Logan, the older man in a suit with a tie, "You're dead."
"Wouldn't be the first time," Ron said as he set the wire snips down.
Some snickering. Shane Logan brought over new wires, replaced them.
"Should do something about the man setting the bomb," Harry said.
Harry took the wire snips, as Shane Logan reset the clock. Harry to the other side of the table from Ron, studied the device.
"Suppose we could do something about the dynamite," Harry said.
"No cheating," Ron said.
A glance to the other eyes curious to what cheating meant. Harry held the wire snips behind him, brought out a longer pair, and set them in. One fast snip, he got the wires against the dynamite.
Ding!
"Dangerous but defused," Shane Logan said, "Somebody might've planted a fail–safe within the sticks."
"Somebody likes to live dangerously," Ron said.
"If I want danger," Harry said, "I'd go for a walk, or fly."
Ron wondered about that.
"Bit early gentlemen," Shane Logan said, "Got the assignments?"
Harry nodded.
Ron understood, went to the table in the back, double checked his notes, and the notations. Harry sat in the chair, turned it toward Ron.
"Was thinking about a bite," Ron said.
"Something very light," Harry said, "Already ate."
Ron raised his eyebrows
"Really?" Ron asked.
Harry's eyes focused on Ron.
"Had beef, potatoes, and green beans," Harry said, "Didn't finish the beans."
"Oh, of course," Ron said, unsure.
"Thank you for looking out for me," Harry said.
Ron stared at him.
"I…I watched myself die," Harry said.
Friendly inquisition from those bottle green eyes, ones that could see Ron's concern growing.
"Here," Harry said as he leaned over.
Harry opened his wand holster, Ron opened his. Ron's Firebolt II jumped over.
"I showed…showed off," Harry said, "You'd never guess where my broom took me."
"Um…" Ron muttered, "Usual?"
"That Ron had turned dark," Harry said, "Used my anorexia as a murder weapon, recruited Kristi to carry it out."
"That's…I don't know what to say," Ron said.
"Magic consumed me—meant him," Harry said, "Skin broke apart, organs, bones, gone."
"Eww," Ron said.
"Voldemort thanked you," Harry said, "Usual way of course."
Harry stood.
"Why'd I turn dark?" Ron asked.
"Some bungled raid into the Ministry," Harry said as they began to walk, "Got Hermione, Ginny, and Dumbledore killed. Get this, that Harry tried out for Puddlemere United too, but didn't cut it, so he bought the team and installed himself."
"Malfoy's method," Ron said.
Harry turned for the closet.
"Um…Notley's…" Ron said, "You know what he's up to, but we gotta meet up outside."
"Seriously," Harry said, "I've ate more today than I did last week, lets call it a win and see if I can do the same tomorrow."
Harry pushed the bar first, the door yielded and opened. They left the community center into the deepening darkness of the late evening, clouds above illuminated in part by a bit of moonlight to the side, and the street lamps of the night.
"Where is he?" Harry asked.
"We got done early," Ron said, "Hermione's back in there."
They went to bench across the road, sat on it.
"That bloke also bought the strip club," Harry said.
"Rich," Ron said, "Good taste."
Harry's eyes twitched.
"We should've chosen somewhere else to meet back up," Harry said, "Too exposed here."
Harry stood, Ron stood, book–bags slung over their shoulders, resting against their hips. A couple of people walked past.
"There," Harry said.
Harry waved, and the man came toward them. Tall, Notley carried styrofoam boxes in a bag. Brown hair, Hermione stepped out of the community center.
BOOM, SMACK!
Out of nowhere, a foot wide lead ball with many spikes pinned Harry against the brick wall. Bloodied pricks across Harry's shirt as the ball zipped away. It slowed, one spike nicked Notley in the right leg. Harry slumped down the wall. Ron's wand in his hand as the ball returned toward Harry. Ron stepped in between, the curse that fired missed, as the spikes penetrated Ron's belly.
Extreme dizziness, confusion came to Ron, his legs that dropped out from beneath him, he began to fall against Harry, unsure to the red as he lost consciousness.
…
Hermione cursed, the red divided up the lead ball into shards that fell to the ground. She ran toward both Harry and Ron, unconscious with Ron's back against Harry's front.
"Ron! Harry!" Hermione shouted.
She put her wand over them, vitals failing as Notley limped over, his teeth gritted. Notley's left fingers drew his wand.
"Ordinarily I'd send for St. Mungo's," Notley said, wand over Ron.
"We're banned, killed on sight," Hermione said, "Have things at the house?"
"Mostly," Notley said.
"We're going there," Hermione said.
Hermione opened Ron's wand holster, activated Ron's Portkey, dropped it between Harry and Ron. She opened hers, activated Harry's Portkey, Notley held on. Jerk behind the navals, the four of them pulled fast into Harry's living room. Both Harry and Ron idle, eyes shuttered.
"Upstairs," Notley said.
"Dobby!" Hermione shouted as she went for the stairs.
Hermione's heart raced, the panic, as she rushed up the stairs.
"Downstairs!" Hermione shouted at Gia in that bedroom.
Hermione found the bag, only one. She ignored the Daily Witches that were next to it, and pulled it fast. Dobby snapped his fingers and the bag flew faster than she could run.
"Winky!" Gia's shout that came up.
Hermione made it down the stairs, Harry and Ron on their backs, apart with their clothes torn off, as Notley knelt between them. Notley's right leg deepening into blue below the bloody puncture wound on his knee. Gia held Winky back as both boys bled. Ron's pattern of bleeding puncture wounds dotted his skin from his naval down to his thighs. Harry's were bleeding faster, concentrated around the corner of the chest near his right shoulder.
"Bleeding means they're alive," Notley said as he dumped the contents of the duffel bag to the floor. "Need the antidote before it takes me."
Dobby touched Harry, no effect, tears came to Dobby's eyes. Notley handed a white vial of clear inside and gave it to Hermione.
"Administer," Notley said, "Harry first, divide in two, and save a drop for me."
Notley's wand returned to his left hand, aimed it at Harry. Hermione took out the dropper, dripped it into Harry's mouth.
"Faster," Notley said.
Hermione tipped the vial, poured a small stream. Harry gabbed for a moment. She moved over to Ron, poured in most of the rest of the clear fluid between the lips.
"Will he—?" Gia asked.
"Missed the heart," Notley said, "That's the good news."
Hermione watched Notley work fast on Harry until the bleeding slowed to a trickle. Notley turned, and worked on Ron.
"Not as bad," Notley said as he worked with the wand, "It's why I focused on Harry first."
"You're left handed?" Gia asked.
"Yep," Notley said, the bleeding slowed, "Moist towels to wipe the blood?"
Dobby vanished.
"Will they survive?" Hermione asked.
"We'll know soon," Notley said.
Dobby appeared with two white towels. Notley handed one to Hermione. He turned to Harry, wand out as he examined. Hermione took one towel to Ron's skin, began to wipe. Gia took the other, worked on Harry.
"Actually," Notley said, "Let Gia do that. Go back and see if you can collect any shrapnel. Use gloves."
"Dobby gets gloves." Dobby vanished.
Notley sat down, grabbed the vial, took the last drop to his tongue, and wiped his brow. Notley aimed his wand at his own knee.
"Major bleeding's stopped," Notley said.
"Not fully," Gia said.
"I was hit too," Notley said, rubbed on his knee, "So I know there's poison in it."
"Thank you," Gia said.
"Pressure's low but steady," Notley said, "I think we now have time to fix the rest."
Dobby appeared with a pair of dragon hide gloves, and a small dragon hide bag. Hermione stood. Wand out, the disillusionment first.
"Happy hunting," Gia said.
Hermione disapparated, apparated into the community center, most lights out aside from a couple. She went out the door. Across the road, the red stains of blood on the sidewalk, her friends'. Shards of metal strewn about, nobody that seemed to notice, aside from one in the corner of her eye, one that wore canary yellow.
"Damn," Hermione muttered.
She wanted Harry's trick, the one better than disillusionment. She began to put the gloves on when she realized the danger. Her wand back out, the chilling of the air, the fog that began to descend and thicken. Another charm, the zone, and she felt it, nearby. She turned left, the disturbance in the fog that moved toward her. A swish and flick, the confundus charm, and it went in circles.
"Now…what?" Hermione muttered, her eyes that scanned.
A pebble, she flicked between that and the object. An invisibility that dropped, the idle lead ball with spikes rested on the paving bricks, and the small translucent sphere that replaced the pebble on the ground. She grabbed the sphere first, put it down into the glove, and put the glove on. A second, she loaded the sphere into the dragon hide bag, dropped the gloves in, and lifted it about the time she heard a pop.
"STOP!" came a shout, the man with a jacket of Magical Law Enforcement, the eyes that moved fast, as he turned toward Hermione.
Hermione activated Harry's Portkey, the jerk behind the naval, she was pulled away.
A few minutes earlier, Ron's eyes had opened enough to spot Hermione as she disapparated, the bag and gloves in hand. His crotch the center of pain that radiated from his belly down to his thighs, anything below the knees numb. His arms, everything refused to move.
"We wait," Notley said.
Ron smelled it, the fried chicken nearby, and his stomach growled.
"Slip some in while he's unconscious?" Gia asked.
Notley's wand flicked at Harry.
"His stomach's strangely…full," Notley said.
"Weird," Gia said.
"I'm not knocking it," Notley said, "Maybe scatter stuff around the house…" Notley glanced around. "That counter between the kitchen and dining, good spot for some ready–made hot snacks. Room temperature ones upstairs in the bedroom."
Gia smiled.
"Bed upstairs," Gia said.
"No," Notley said, "Don't move them."
Dobby snapped his fingers, blankets and pillows appeared.
"Don't move them," Notley repeated.
"Up an inch for the blankets?" Gia asked.
Ron felt a slight levitation, the charmed blanket beneath him radiated up heat into him, the pillow that went beneath his head. A flapping of white, Hedwig soared over, landed.
"Dobby is a good House Elf," Dobby said.
"Yes you are," Gia said.
Dobby vanished. Notley poked at his right knee with the wand.
"I'll be fine," Notley said, "I can always go to St. Mungo's. How'd you earn a lifetime ban?"
Ron's lungs and voice cooperated.
"Voldemort attacked us," Ron said, "So, we didn't checkout properly."
A jump back in Notley, the eyes that fixated onto Ron's. Dobby reappeared, wide eyes on Ron.
"That answers one question," Notley said.
"What…how are we?" Ron asked.
Notley explained as he saw it, the ball that attacked.
"Figured," Ron said, "Where's Hermione.
"Collecting the shrapnel," Notley said.
Ron's arms cooperated, began to sit up, but only managed to prop his torso and head up with his elbows.
"Stop!" Notley said, "You're in no—"
"If there's one," Ron said, "There's more!"
Color drained from Notley's face, the realization of the added danger. Hermione landed, her breathing a bit hard, the bag that dropped as she held full sized sphere in the gloved hands. Hermione grinned.
"Collecting?" Ron asked.
Hermione kept her smile, showed the spiked lead ball.
"Get that—" Notley started, as he stood.
"It's inert," Hermione said, "Need a table."
Dobby snapped his fingers, a low wooden table appeared. Hermione set the device down where it settled on three of the spikes, spikes that sank several millimeters into the wood.
"Harry?" Hermione asked.
"He took the brunt of the poison," Notley said, "Weasley fared better."
"Harry's normally the first one up," Ron said, "He'll be good for practice."
Notley stared at Ron.
"Punctured lung," Notley said, "Nicked his pulmonary. Broken collarbone and dislocated shoulder."
"Which you'll fix," Ron said as he sat up.
Bloody towels between him and Harry, blood on the carpet, Harry still idle.
"He's strong," Ron said, "He'll make it."
"Funny," Notley said, "Thought I was the Healer."
Ron's stomach growled.
"Where's that chicken?" Ron asked.
Ron pushed, felt the pain within his legs, the skin that protested, as he put his weight onto his feet. Bit numb, he stood
"Take it easy!" Notley snapped.
"Thought triage was bad?" Hermione asked Notley.
Ron went over to the counter, opened the styrofoam, and handled the chicken. His fingers greased up as he sank his teeth into it, chewed.
"Ron doesn't ignore his hunger," Gia said.
"Nope," Hermione said.
"That's healthy," Notley said, "Fit with an appetite, not requiring himself to be super thin."
"What's death by anorexia like?" Ron asked.
"Well," Notley said, "The body has to cannibalize itself to try to stay alive; fat first, muscle, so forth. A wizard's or witch's body magic will allow it to go further, so the body consumes even more of the cells, like overdrawing your vault and the Goblins giving you a loan while gambling. At some point, when you're unable to pay the interest and fall behind on even that, they'll foreclose."
"And?" Ron asked.
"In a last ditch attempt to survive," Notley said, "Your magic will even turn cell membranes into energy. Skin, flesh, even bones, have been known to vanish; exactly which parts are left for a decent burial depends on their magical strength and what bit fails first."
"Thank you." Ron walked across the living room, past Harry with Hedwig by his head, "Hermione, Gia."
"Take it easy," Notley said.
"I need to piss," Ron said, "I'd like it to be a conference given it'll likely hurt."
Ron went up the steps, crossed into the lavatory. Ron aimed and felt the pain. Hermione stepped in. Gia stood in the doorway. Ron turned.
"Yes," Ron said, "Hurts a bit."
Ron finished, and went for the bedroom. Ron turned around, Hermione and Gia stood there.
"We're backing off," Ron said, "Testing Harry's resolve to change, to eat."
"You're sure about this?" Hermione asked.
"Not withholding it," Ron said, "Give him opportunities, tell him it's ready, and that sort. I simply think he's found his motivation, and I want to see if that's true. So tomorrow, we watch, and resume our pressure if it's a lie by Friday."
"I don't understand why," Gia said.
"Notley confirmed it," Ron said, "Harry watched himself die."
Hermione's brown eyes on Ron too.
"You know what his broom can do, it's why he nearly missed class." Ron detailed what Harry had shared. "Voldemort made sure Harry was vanquished."
"Hope it works," Gia said.
"Me too," Ron said, "Too much pushing and he'll break. If he's changed, let him show he's fine."
Ron held, hugged Hermione, tight. His arms around her.
"Not doing that," Hermione said.
"I can hug, right?" Ron asked, he spotted the worry still in her eyes.
Gia snorted.
"It'd likely hurt to bang," Ron said as he kissed Hermione, "Let's see what's going on."
Ron thought about it, apparated them both downstairs.
"I'm getting it," Ron said to Hermione, "Harry's knack."
"Did you apparate?" Notley said, "Please don't make this tougher to heal."
Ron glanced at Harry, still idle on the makeshift bedding on the floor, the chest that labored with each breath.
"Harry's at his most compliant now," Hermione said.
Ron went over to the sofa, laid on it.
Notley kept sitting as his wand aimed itself at Harry, worked the shoulder. Gia walked across, rotated the arm chair, sat as she watched Harry. Ron waited.
"Bleeding's stopped," Gia said, "Took a while."
"At St. Mungo's, I'd have help," Notley said, "And we both know how pissed Harry would be if we let Ron bleed to death."
"True," Hermione said.
"Slowed Harry's down first," Notley said, "Alternate to Ron's, and back to Harry, playing for time until it's manageable."
Ron understood, the chaos.
Harry woke to the living room darkened down to the bath of pale moonlight that infested in through the windows; with a new wooden table against the front wall supporting a large spiked sphere, wondered if that had anything to do with the bandages on him, and the brace over his right clavicle binding his front to back side. His right shoulder ached, some pain as he breathed. He heard the wings that stretched, Hedwig on the pillow next to his head. Gia nearby, partially slumped in the arm chair.
Hoot!
Wings stretched again, the affection nip to his ear. Harry sat up, stroked the feathers. Realized it a bit odd to be sleeping in the living room. A pang to his stomach, the smells of the fried chicken.
Harry felt a bit dizzy as he stood, the lightheadedness, still, he walked to the kitchen area. A styrofoam container, open to a couple bits of fried chicken. Harry grabbed the thigh, ate into it, as Gia approached. She watched as he ate, put the bone aside. Harry watched her watch him, the drumstick, which he ate.
"I love you." Gia hugged him.
"Ah…ah…" Harry muttered, the pain in his shoulder.
Gia let loose, her eyes on him.
"Sorry," Gia said, "Know grievous injury is par the course, still hurts to witness it."
"Sorry," Harry said.
"Not your fault," Gia said, "You're doing what you can."
Harry sighed.
"Even ate, unprompted," Gia said.
"I'm trying," Harry said.
Gia kissed him, the lips together.
"I know," Gia said, "I also know you've spent a lifetime not eating, to retrain yourself will take time. So long as you're working on it, improving, I won't complain…well, I'll still give you encouragement."
Harry grinned.
"Ron also spilled what he knew about your trip today," Gia said.
"Sure, he did something foolish," Harry said, "But he was me, the courage, the wand, even the scar." Harry pointed to his forehead. "He quit, decided to play Quidditch and have fun at the strip club. Voldemort still came after him, but didn't have to kill. Oh no, Voldemort made sure nobody else would help, so he could claim Harry did it to himself."
Harry sighed. Gia's fingers worked his left shoulder, downward.
"I can't quit," Harry said, "I do and Voldemort kills me, wins."
"Imagine life after it," Gia said, "Quidditch, being a husband and father, kids, and more?"
Harry sighed.
"Maybe even teaching at Hogwarts," Gia said.
Harry snorted, hadn't even considered that.
"You'd be experienced for at least one position, right?" Gia asked.
"Sex," Harry said, as he kissed her, "The Missionary Position?"
Gia snickered. She leaned back in, held his butt, massaged.
"Does this help?" Gia asked.
"Keep going," Harry said.
Gia leaned, kept the pressure to the left side away from his right.
"Don't dream of doing it alone," Gia said, "You don't have a choice, but we do. We chose to support you, alright?"
Harry stood there.
"In this house," Gia said, "I count an owl, two House Elfs, two wizards, a witch, and myself in that lot. At your school, some teachers, some students still support you. Can we count on your support?"
"It won't be perfect," Harry said.
"Not asking for perfection," Gia said, "Best you can do is fine."
Harry felt it, a tick from within, wondered.
"One moment," Harry said.
Harry's wand out, the invisibility charm, apparation outside the house to the front; moonlight between the cracks in the clouds. A large dog approached, sniffed toward Harry, a form Harry recognized. Harry backed away, in a spiral, and watched the large dog follow where Harry's feet had been. Two spirals, and the dog's eyes went up toward Harry was standing.
Woof!
Harry went backward toward the house, to the front door. He reached, the door opened, and the dog entered, went past Harry. Harry closed the door, and the dog transformed. Sirius reached where Harry was, the hand that gripped Harry's right shoulder, the pain.
"Ouch," Harry said, as his invisibility dropped.
"Not completely unaware," Sirius said.
Sirius held Harry tight.
"Not the right side," Harry managed with the pain.
Sirius let go.
"Bit injured earlier," Harry said.
"Sorry," Sirius said, tear in his eyes, "Rough day, weekend. After yesterday…I tried to escape with him, they were too much."
"I…we didn't know how to help," Harry said.
"You couldn't," Sirius said, "My friend trusted me and I let him down, like I've let you down."
Footsteps upstairs.
"Got a visitor up there," Harry said, "But you're welcome to stay."
"Thank you," Sirius said.
Sirius transformed, and it felt good to once again have Snuffles in the house.
"Correction," Gia whispered to Harry, her arms that went around his waist, "Three wizards."
Gia kissed him, and guided him up the stairs. Into the bedroom, Ron and Hermione already on the bed, Crookshanks between them. Harry climbed onto the bed, laid on his left side, with Ron's back in front of him. Gia pushed a bit in from behind.
"I'm glad you're making it," Gia whispered.
Harry worried if that other Harry was as confident. Still, warmth to all sides, the blankets that came up, the pillow beneath his head, Harry fell back to sleep.
Date: Thu Jan 4 09:53:35 2024