A/N: Please excuse this re-post. This is an extended version of the original Chapter 7, which was posted on 6/8. If you read that chapter, I've added on a few more paragraphs here. The initial version of this chapter kept bothering me after last night, so I added a bit more. I'll be taking next week off from posting to nail down some plotline and mass produce some content, so that I can stay on top of things for you all. It's my pleasure to write for you - I hope you enjoy!
"Arthur and I thought we'd offer to accompany you, dear," said Mrs. Weasley, sitting next to her husband on a four-poster bed, across from Harry.
"Only if you wanted us to," Mr. Weasley interjected, "We wouldn't want to intrude…however, we do realize the situation is highly…unusual."
Harry looked between Mr. and Mrs. Weasley, the couple he trusted, and who had welcomed him into their family without hesitation. They'd just sat in on a private conversation between himself and Kingsley Shacklebolt, who was now temporary Minister of Magic. It was a gorgeous, sunny midmorning three days after the battle; the sky outside the tower window was a stunning azure blue. Harry had just been told, for the third time, that his parents were alive…and they wanted to see him.
"Er…" Harry stuttered, unable to think of anything to say.
He'd woken up about an hour previously to a harried looking Kreacher, who unsealed the dormitory and let Mr. and Mrs. Weasley inside. They were soon joined by Kingsley, who proceeded to tell Harry that the vivid dream he could recollect with perfect detail was, in fact, not a dream. He had truly defeated Tom Riddle and survived the Killing Curse a second time. Fred, Remus, Tonks, and Colin Creevey really had come back to life. And Harry definitely met a man from the Department of Mysteries and a woman from St. Mungo's, who had told him that his parents and godfather somehow survived.
"Er…" he said again, pulling at the t-shirt he now wore, under which the new Deathly Hallows mark shown, "right…yeah, of course, I want to see them. I'm just a little surprised."
"Of course you are, Harry, dear," said Mrs. Weasley, squeezing his hand fondly, "I must say, I didn't believe it myself. Too much has happened, you know? That's why Arthur and I went over there…we wanted to see for ourselves…and, well…" she smiled a little awkwardly.
"Sorry," said Harry, "but…how is it you knew my parents again?"
Harry felt Confunded. He'd been in the same room as the Weasleys, heard everything in Kingsley's report, and still wanted details repeated. Mr. and Mrs. Weasley explained that they'd gone to visit Harry's parents and Sirius, so that they could verify the truth for him. He was incredibly grateful for their thoughtfulness but hadn't been aware that Mr. and Mrs. Weasley had known his parents at all. How were they supposed to know anything about people they'd never met?
"Well, James and Lily knew my brothers, Fabian and Gideon," started Mrs. Weasley, "They joined the Order of the Phoenix before Arthur and I ever did. We had small children at the time, and it was too much of a risk for us. But I figured, well, if it were really Lily and James, they may be able to tell me about my brothers."
"Twins run in my family," Mrs. Weasley continued with a brief look at her husband, "That's why we've got Fred and George. They're named after their uncles, in a manner of speaking. Like Fred and George, Fabian and Gideon were identical to the last freckle. I knew only someone who'd worked closely with them could tell them apart. We got to talking with your parents and it soon became very clear that they were telling the truth."
"And, of course, we read reports from St. Mungo's, too," added Mr. Weasley, "As Kingsley said, their identities have been confirmed under Veritaserum, and through the Intellego Charm."
Harry nodded. Kingsley had left shortly after delivering the news, offering Harry privacy. During his visit, the Minister described the Intellego Charm as an incantation of his own invention, which forced individuals to properly identify themselves.
"After that mess getting you back from the Dursleys," Kingsley explained, "I looked for a new way to identify others. Working with as many people as I did, answering security questions became a nightmare. This was the next best thing…we're training all of our Aurors to do it now."
He also explained that both Sirius and Harry's parents had been required to cast their Patronuses in front of him as an added measure. When it came down to it, there was little Harry could deny about the situation. However much he didn't understand, he was compelled to accept that his parents and godfather were alive. Warm excitement spread through him like Liquid Luck and, for the first time since hearing the news, he smiled.
"It's really them," he said, but it wasn't a question.
"It's really them," Mrs. Weasley confirmed, hugging him.
"When can I go?" Harry asked.
"As soon as you'd like," Mr. Weasley grinned, "Though I'd recommend sooner rather than later. Sirius is getting impatient."
With a delighted peal of laughter, Harry sprang from the four-poster and began putting on his trainers. Something in the way Mr. Weasley described Sirius had struck a chord with Harry, and the full effect of what he was about to do had set in. He was going to see Sirius again. He was going to see his parents.
"I'll go right now!" he declared.
Practically floating with glee, he dashed toward the dormitory door and downstairs to the common room.
"Harry!" Hermione exclaimed upon seeing him, "You're finally awake! Wait…what're you doing?"
"Going to see my parents, Hermione!"
"What—Oh, Harry, that's wonderful!" Hermione squealed, pulling him into a tight hug.
"Come with me," Harry looked at her and Ron, "Both of you! Come with me and meet them."
Ron took in his best friend. Harry was grinning ear to ear, his green eyes lit with Patronus-like joy. He'd never seen Harry this euphoric, not even when he'd unwrapped the Firebolt for Christmas.
"Are…are you sure, mate? I mean, we don't want to interrupt or anything," Ron hesitated, shifting from one foot to the other and struggling for tact.
"Of course I'm sure," Harry replied, "You two have been with me throughout this whole year. You deserve to come."
A small part of Harry knew he also didn't want to go alone; at least, not at first. These were his parents, true, but who were they to him? The prospect of walking into St. Mungo's on his own felt daunting, like discovering his family's cottage in Godric's Hollow. He'd been immediately curious, but unable to so much as open the front gate. Instead, Harry and Hermione had stayed comfortably outside the fence line, content to read hundreds of well-wishes graffitied onto the accompanying sign.
"Now, hold on," said Mr. Weasley, catching up to Harry as he and Mrs. Weasley came down the stairs, "before you go, you should know that the head healer there, Healer Blakely, says that only five visitors are allowed at a time. There's been a secure connection set up between the Mavens' head office and the Gryffindor common room. That way, your privacy is protected, Harry, but I still don't think all of us ought to be seeing your parents at once. If it were me…I know I'd want some time alone with my son."
Harry nodded, taking in Mr. Weasley's meaningful look.
"Arthur," said Mrs. Weasley, looking from Ron and Hermione and back to her husband, "How about I take Ginny and the others to visit Tonks and Remus, first? You and Harry can wait a moment and then go on ahead. The Potters and Sirius can meet you both in Healer Blakely's study."
Harry looked around Mrs. Weasley, to where Ginny sat on the sofa. He hadn't noticed her until then; she offered him a small smile. Nodding back, Harry put his hands in his pockets and shuffled his feet. Eager as he was to see his family, Harry hadn't even thought to invite Ginny along. Someday, he thought, he'd really like Ginny to meet his parents…but not like this. Not now, when there were so many unspoken words between them.
"I think that's a lovely idea, dear," said Mr. Weasley, smiling at his wife, "Does that work for you Harry?"
"Yeah, Mrs. Weasley," Harry replied, "that sounds great!"
…
Pulled by the naval, Harry jerked as his body contorted in a blaze of green flame. Barely a moment later, his feet landed steadily in a massive grate. Dusting white ash from his jeans, Harry stepped out of the fireplace and glanced around.
The first thing he noticed were books; volumes of all sizes, bound mostly in aged leather, and embossed with faded script. Bookshelves sat in each corner of the pentagonal room, giving the impression that Harry stood in some sort of library tower. High ceilings gave way to a massive candle chandelier; each of the back three walls, which faced Harry, fit a tall, arched window adorned with deep violet drapes. A grand cherry wood desk stood in front of the center window, reminding Harry of all those nights in Dumbledore's office. He even noticed a cabinet behind the desk that looked suspiciously as though it held a Pensieve. Squinting to study the rune-like carvings on the cabinet, he jumped when a woman's voice caught him off guard.
"Mr. Potter! Good! We've been expecting you."
Harry turned, noticing a tall woman poised behind the desk. She was fair-skinned and blond, with eyes the color of Starling eggs. She seemed to be marking something down in a large book, as the fireplace flashed behind Harry.
"And that'll be your acquaintance, Mr. Weasley, won't it?" the woman wondered, glancing up from the book as Mr. Weasley stumbled from the grate, ash falling to the floor.
"Yes…er…hello, Healer Blakely. Pleasure to see you again," Mr. Weasley mumbled.
"Of course, Mr. Weasley, it's good to see you. Your wife told me you'd be coming. She just came here with a group of teenagers; I expect they're in the private ward by now," she said, coming around the desk, "Mr. Potter, I'm Healer Blakely. I serve as Head Matron to the Mavens here at St. Mungo's. You will have already met my second in command, Healer Ryan. May I just say, it's an absolute privilege to meet you!"
The healer's eyes swept over Harry's lightning bolt scar as she shook his hand.
"I presume, given recent events, that you are here to meet your family. Though, we will need to examine you at some point," she took a step back, eying Harry shrewdly. "Perhaps we'd better do that first, eh? Just a cursory exam to make sure you're not in any immediate danger, then we can bring the parents in…Would you like Mr. Weasley to wait outside? I'll need to remove your shirt to see that mark everyone keeps talking about," Healer Blakely said, her eyes roving over Harry's chest curiously.
"Mr. Weasley can stay," Harry told her, a little uncomfortable and unsure how he felt knowing everyone was talking about his new mark, "I don't mind if he sees…but I'd like to keep the rest of this conversation private."
Healer Blakely's eyes widened in surprise.
"Oh, no, Mr. Potter…please, you can't think that I'd tell anyone. Patient confidentiality is everything. But the Mavens, well, we're a community of problem solvers. And, from what I hear, your new mark has presented quite the problem. Not that we would ever discuss your medical records outside of the Mavens, you understand. We are a very secretive group…"
"Pardon," said Mr. Weasley, watching concernedly as Harry took off his t-shirt, "I hope you don't mind me asking, Harry, but what's the problem you Mavens have got to solve? Surely, you've seen curse marks before."
But Healer Blakely never answered the question; she was too captivated by the Hallows mark on Harry's chest. While the bruise had faded slightly, slipping from a violent red and purple color to only an eggplant-colored tinge, the golden sign of the Deathly Hallows could still be seen. Underneath, there was some sort of golden inscription written in what appeared to be ancient runes. Indeed, Healer Blakely took so long studying these runes that Harry wondered whether she'd bother to answer Mr. Weasley's question.
"W-What?" she asked, finally resurfacing from her thoughts.
"I said," started Mr. Weasley again, "why does Harry's mark present such a problem? Surely, you've seen curse marks before."
Healer Blakely paused, pursing her lips and considering what to say.
"Certainly, the Mavens have seen curse marks before…but, indeed, none like this. None of this shape…and certainly not with such…writing…underneath," said the healer, probing the mark with her wand, "The combination is enough to make anyone curious. You say you got this mark after you defeated You-Know-Who, Mr. Potter?"
Harry nodded, unsure how much to say. Something about the analytical gleam in Healer Blakely's eyes put him off.
"Of course, Poppy filled me in on everything," Healer Blakely continued, as though she could read Harry's mind, "When it comes to ensuring the best care for our patients, we must keep lines of communication open. So, tell me, then, Mr. Potter…is it your premonition, then, that this mark appeared because you, yet again, survived the Killing Curse?"
Harry nodded once more, "Yes."
"A-Again?" choked Mr. Weasley in the background, "S-Survived the Killing Curse again? Harry, what's the healer talking about?"
"That's what I thought," said Healer Blakely, confirming a theory to herself, "Are you sure you still want Mr. Weasley here? Poppy led me to believe that the details of your wound were highly classified."
Harry shrugged.
"They are, but Mr. Weasley is trustworthy. He's a close personal friend of the Minister of Magic…and of mine. He'll keep this secret, won't you, Mr. Weasley?"
"K-Keep what secret?" Mr. Weasley stuttered, stepping forward and looking from Harry to Healer Blakely and back.
"This mark," she said, pointing to Harry's bruise, "is more than it appears. If you look closely, Mr. Weasley, you'll be able to discern three distinct marks…four, if you count the script separately. There is perhaps the most recent and obvious mark, this shape which takes the sign of the Deathly Hallows…I can explain all about that, in a moment, if you're unaware…but underneath, there are two other scars. One is oval in shape and the other…the other is another lightning bolt scar, much like Mr. Potter bears on his forehead."
Mr. Weasley's eyes bulged with shock, as he took a closer look at Harry's chest and realized where Voldemort's Killing Curse had struck again.
"But…But how did you survive, Harry?" he asked feebly.
"That's the million-Galleon question, isn't it?" wondered Healer Blakely, "I mean, if both the lightning bolt scar and the Hallows scar appeared at the same time, well, that occurrence lends itself to a certain theory, although not a concrete explanation. But this writing…" Healer Blakely touched the golden script with her wand again; Harry fought the urge to flinch, "I've never seen anything like it, nor, as far as I can tell, have any of my colleagues. I am certain nothing in our archives translates this kind of rune. The language must be thousands of years old…"
Harry felt a cold rush hit him as, again, the healer's wand tip lightly traced the runes written on his chest. He knew he was a medical miracle and all, but he wished she would stop doing that.
"I…don't understand," Mr. Weasley said after a while, "what do you mean that both scars lend themselves to a certain theory? What possible explanation could there be?"
Healer Blakely tilted her head, contemplating the man before her.
"You've a lot of children, Mr. Weasley. Did you ever read them The Tale of the Three Brothers?" she asked.
"What?" asked Mr. Weasley, looking aghast, "Of course! Molly and I told the Tales of Beedle the Bard to them every night…but what do that have to do with anything?"
"Well, then you'll be familiar with the three Deathly Hallows…the Elder Wand, the Invisibility Cloak, the Resurrection Stone," Healer Blakely continued, pulling Mr. Weasley closer to Harry still, "Some say they make a mark called the sign of the Deathly Hallows…that's it, there, see? On Mr. Potter's chest."
"No," said a bewildered Mr. Weasley, "I don't see."
"Right there," repeated the healer, tracing the mark again, "The Cloak…the Wand…The Stone."
"So…so you think that this mark…is…what, exactly?" Mr. Weasley asked, his brow furrowed in concentration.
"Well, right now we don't think anything, but it's very curious that Mr. Potter, here, has twice survived the Killing Curse and come back most recently bearing a mark from a children's tale," replied Healer Blakely, before adding to Harry, "Might I please take a picture, Mr. Potter? Not of your face or anything, but just of the wound site? Only, I've never seen scars like these…none of us have…it would be helpful in our research if we could use the photo for reference."
"Er…" Harry had to think about that. Long experience taught him to be mindful of who he spoke with, and who he let take pictures of him. The last thing he needed was for anyone at the Daily Prophet, in particular Rita Skeeter, to get wind of his new scars.
"These photos," interrupted Mr. Weasley, "they would only be used by the Mavens, correct? No one else would be able to use them for anything?"
"Of course," Healer Blakely assured them, "They would merely be for academic purposes, so that we might gain a better understanding. As you know, the more we understand, the better we'll be able to help Mr. Potter."
Harry looked to Mr. Weasley, who appeared uncertain for a moment before he nodded.
"Okay," said Harry, coming to a decision, "as long as the photos never go public, I don't mind."
Healer Blakely smiled her thanks and quickly summoned a camera, which shot from an unlocked drawer in her desk. She took photos of Harry from the chest down, careful to get only close-up shots of the wound. When she had finished, tucking the camera under her arm, the healer raised her wand once more.
"Now for a quick diagnostic spell to check on your basic health…I see Poppy's done a wonderful job on you! And…there we are! Alright, now, Mr. Potter, if you would stay here. Your parents will be up in just a moment."
"But…I still don't understand…what's wrong with him?" asked Mr. Weasley, frowning at Healer Blakely's sudden departure. The matron turned around, a kind expression in her light blue eyes.
"I'm afraid, Mr. Weasley, that we do not know, yet. It may well be that nothing is wrong with him. But, with a curse that damaging…we just can't know right away. I'll be back, of course, to follow up. These images must be developed for study, first. We'll consider every possibility to find answers for Mr. Potter, don't you worry. For the moment, the important thing is that Mr. Potter seems to be in perfect health otherwise. He's in great shape to meet his family!"
With a slight curtsy, the matron turned on her heel. Before Harry could process anything more than the sight of Healer Blakely's purple robes sweeping out the door, Mr. Weasley thrust his T-shirt over to him.
"I guess you better put that on, Harry," Mr. Weasley instructed, still wondering at his interaction with Healer Blakely, "It sounds like James and Lily will be here any moment."
Then, abruptly, Harry was waiting…waiting to meet the parents he'd never known.
Tingling with anticipation, Harry's fingers shook. He swore he could feel his heart hammering in his throat. At the last second, desperate thoughts overran his mind. It's not true…it can't be true…there has to be some misunderstanding. Seventeen years without parents doesn't just change overnight. He waited there, the minutes feeling like hours, as beads of sweat began to form under his bangs. Harry began to pace and suddenly felt like bolting from the room. This was all some wild dream… he must still be in Kreacher's enchanted sleep…
The door to Healer Blakely's study opened and a large, shaggy black dog bounded inside. Upon spotting Harry, the dog transformed into a tall man with shoulder-length dark hair, and a strong jawline. He wore white hospital pajamas, and a handsome, cocky smirk that mimicked his younger self. Sirius Black raised one eyebrow at his godson, before holding his arms out wide.
"SIRIUS!" Harry bellowed, sprinting to embrace his godfather.
Sirius chuckled a deep, throaty sound.
"Harry…it's so good to see you!"
The two pulled apart.
"Where's…where's Mum and Dad?" Harry asked, his voice cracking on the words he'd never truly used.
"What? Am I not enough for you?" Sirius grinned, ruffling Harry's hair, "Just kidding! They're on their way up…strictly speaking, it wasn't much of a race. Four legs are faster than two and Prongs couldn't fit his antlers down the hallway, but—"
"Mr. Black!" called a stern female voice, "You cannot just go traipsing around this hospital as a dog. It's not hygienic!"
The study door opened again, and Harry recognized the small frame of Healer Ryan, panting as though she'd just run up a flight of stairs. He smiled at her, but peered over her shoulder to see whether anyone else might be coming.
"They're just down the hall, love, they'll be there in a mo—"
Harry couldn't take it. Seeing Sirius filled him with new purpose, and he burst from the office and down the corridor. He had to find them. As he rounded the corner, he heard them before he saw them.
"Honestly, James! Now is not the time for stupid little tricks…We'd be there now if you hadn't tried to transform and race Sirius down the hallway! Why'd you have to rip the portrait, huh?"
"Sorry, Lils," said a man's voice, "I'm just so excited! Can you believe it? We get to see our boy!"
Harry looked up.
Striding quickly up a long flight of stairs, Harry saw a couple. The man was tall with square glasses and untidy black hair. The woman was average in height, with a petite build and long, ginger waves that fell past her shoulder. Even from this distance, he could see the trail of freckles splattered across her nose and cheeks. The woman's gaze rose ever so slightly as she took her next step, but then froze.
Her green eyes found Harry's, and her cheeks went pink.
"James," she breathed, "It's him!"
They stood there for a moment while Harry stared in shock. After a beat of silence that stopped time, the redheaded woman spoke again.
"Harry? Darling? It's me…It's Mum," she said, taking a few hesitant steps forward, "It's Mum and Dad."
The woman held out her arms but dropped them again. Harry wasn't moving. He couldn't…couldn't bring himself to understand the scene before his eyes. He had hoped it would happen, had felt every bit of overwhelming dread at the prospect of being disappointed again, but here they were. The couple from his nightmares. The ones he'd only seen or heard when dementors got too near…The people he'd so longed to touch, all those years ago, watching the Mirror of Erised. His parents.
"Mum?" Harry's voice croaked.
Lily smiled, holding out her arms again.
"Yes, love, it's me. It's us…it's your Mum and Dad."
In the next moment, Harry launched himself down the stairs and into his mother's arms. James wrapped his family in a group hug, and the three Potters held tightly to one another.
"My boy!" James said, his voice muffled in his wife's shoulder, "My boy…oh, my son…thank God!"
The little family stayed there, oblivious to the world and clinging to one another. Lily cried joyful tears into Harry's shoulder. Harry's own eyes were wet, but he couldn't bring himself to care. James didn't even notice when Sirius first appeared at the top of the stairs, having chased after Harry in his dog form. The shaggy black dog wagged its tail, and, after several minutes of waiting, barked impatiently.
"Shut up, Padfoot!" James laughed, pulling away to get a better look at his son, "Can't you see we're busy, here?"
Padfoot barked again, but laid down, resting his snout on his front paws for a few minutes longer. Eventually, the Potters climbed up the stairs and back to the Mavens' Head Office, Padfoot following in their wake. None of them noticed Healer Blakely, who'd come up the steps shortly after the Potters, still carrying her camera. The matron smiled to herself, content that she'd caught the photo of a lifetime.