Disclaimer: Nope.
Author's Note: Oh my goodness, wow! The response to the last chapter was absolutely amazing! Thank you all for the fantastic reviews!
It was wonderful to finally be able to read the reviews, because this website was suffering with weird technical glitches again. I couldn't read my reviews for this chapter for two days, and I was at my absolute wits' end. I swear to Merlin, this website has suffered technical glitch after technical glitch. It's just like the one with the email notifications, although I'm very glad to see that my old reviewers are back and are receiving those again. Thank goodness!
Thankfully, everything seems to be resolved now with the reviews, and when I did get to read them, I was absolutely ecstatic. Thank you all again for giving me such great feedback!
You're right about the showing vs. telling aspect of the long-distance travel. I promise that I will explain more about the potion Harry and Sirius took before they left Britain, and what the effects of the travel were like in a future chapter. You're right that this is an important thing to show.
I chuckled at your comment regarding the Dursleys' reaction to Shakespeare. Yes, it's pretty messed up, just like everything about that family. I studied Shakespeare in school, too, and though I had trouble understanding him, I had an AMAZING teacher that helped our class decipher it. I ended up really enjoying his work, and I understand how integral he was to our history. Your comment regarding what the general public will think of Harry Potter in 500 years was super interesting, because I think you're right. Merlin knows what the English language will be like 500 years from now!
Yes, Dumbledore's remorse is genuine, and I'm glad you're liking the way I'm handling him. Yes, that's precisely why the Order was so harsh with him, because they put him on a pedestal and he fell off of it so hard. And yes, Sirius, especially, is going to have a very hard time forgiving him.
I'm glad you like what I came up with for American canon, and that you like the differences from Pottermore. I'm glad my magical schools make sense. What a great question about Muggle-borns in the no-magic areas as well! Last chapter was just an introduction to the entire concept of no-magic zones, and there will be a lot more details about that in the future. Your question about Muggle-borns will definitely be answered. I'm glad you enjoyed the world-building, and that you thought it was done organically.
I'm so, so glad you loved the Hallway of Humanity. I thoroughly enjoyed creating it, and you'll find out more about that as well. I'm glad it had such an effect, and it all has to do with mindset. I based a lot of it off of my own struggles with anxiety, although, of course, there isn't such a hallway in real life. I only wish there was.
Anyway, here's the next chapter. I hope you enjoy it! And please keep reviewing - I cherish each and every one of them. Thanks again!
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It was Saturday morning. As Sirius returned to consciousness, he felt well-rested, something he hadn't expected to feel upon waking this morning.
What Dixon had shown him and Harry the night before went beyond description. When he'd first entered the dark, dreary, drab hallway, with the sad-looking, week-old, abandoned newspaper and the rubbish on the floor, he'd felt the depression that had been swallowing him this week rear its ugly head again. If Dixon was truly expecting him to heal, then what in Merlin's name was he doing, bringing him and Harry here? Was the Mind Healer betraying him once again?
But what had happened next had been like something out of a fairy tale. Sirius had always known that a lot could be done with magic, but he now realized that he had been ignorant of the true depth of it. He knew he would never forget how Harry had held his hand and squeezed it, whispering soft words that had changed everything about the experience Sirius had had in that hallway.
The sparkling, dancing lights, the way the date of the newspaper had transformed, the way the floor had somehow completely rid itself of the rubbish that had littered it moments before ... it was extraordinary. The pure magic that seemed to radiate from the corridor filled Sirius up from the inside out, and it was a glow that filled him with hope, something that he had struggled to feel at all this week as the terrible truth of Harry's situation churned inside him. The magic of the hallway seemed to cleanse him, the purity of it washing through him, healing hurts that had festered inside him for so long.
Once they'd returned to Rock Hall, neither Harry nor Sirius had known quite what to say to Dixon. Much of the scalding betrayal that Sirius had originally felt had evaporated due to the effects of the Hallway of Humanity, upon finally understanding just what the man was willing to do for Harry and Sirius. The joy he had seen upon the Healer's face when Sirius had finally gotten past the illusion of the hallway had reached his very bones, and as he, Harry, and Dixon sat once again in the kitchen of the Maryland house, none of them spoke. Sirius felt as light as a feather, the healing magic of the hallway suffused within his heart. He realized that it was Azkaban's complete antithesis, the pure opposite of everything that prison represented.
Finally, Harry had said the words that were struggling for release. "Healer Dixon?" His emerald eyes were far away, and Sirius imagined that his looked the same.
"Yes?" Dixon's voice was gentle.
"I ... I ... thank you." Harry finally blurted out, the emotion in his voice unmistakable. Sirius nodded, his throat too constricted to speak.
Dixon had simply smiled, as though understanding completely and needing no more words to be spoken. "You're welcome," he said quietly.
Somehow, that was all that was needed to be said as Harry and Sirius made their way up to where they would be sleeping. This, too, was very pleasant. The house continued to give off a very comforting atmosphere, and both Sirius and Harry were exceedingly grateful for it.
Sirius had embraced Harry tightly as the boy was about to make his way to the bedroom. The words the boy had spoken in the Hallway of Humanity echoed through his mind as he felt the comfort of Harry's arms around him, solid and real and alive. When the fear tried to take hold of Sirius again, he held onto the feeling that the hallway had produced. The memory was so potent at the moment that it was very easy to fall back into it.
He realized that this was exactly what Dixon had been trying to achieve. The appointment with the American Mind Healers would be excruciating, but Dixon had given Sirius and Harry something to hold onto, and something that would still be extremely vivid. The waves of magic in that hallway had almost felt ... like something not of this world, yet something that was so true to life at the same time.
Sirius had no doubt that their trip to the Philadelphia wizarding district was the entire reason he and Harry had gotten any rest that night, and they had honestly slept extremely well. Both he and Harry's beds were very comfortable, and when they awoke, dressed, and went to the kitchen, where Dixon was already cooking them breakfast, the worry and apprehension gnawing at him was somehow far less severe than he had predicted. Looking at Harry sitting next to him, he saw that he was reacting the same way. Another surge of equal gratitude and forgiveness swelled inside him, and his expression was soft as he looked over at Dixon.
There were quiet greetings and wishes of good morning as the man continued to cook. He looked very comfortable and secure in the kitchen; it was clear that he enjoyed what he was doing. Sirius couldn't help but wonder how many meals he had cooked for Dumbledore, and how accepting the old codger had been of them.
Sirius would have thought that he would have felt too queasy and nauseous with worry to eat this morning, but once again, he had been proven wrong as Dixon brought their plates over to the table. Sirius found it rather intriguing that the man didn't use magic at all throughout the whole procedure. It was obvious that he was very comfortable with his Muggle heritage. He almost smirked when he thought of how his parents would have reacted to this. They were so foul, so vile, and so, so ignorant. They would have no doubt made all kinds of loathsome comments towards Dixon, telling him how unworthy he was to have magic when he was so proud of his filthy Muggle ways. Sirius couldn't imagine possessing so much bigotry and hatred for people you didn't even know.
Dixon had made them a feast this morning. The plates held scrambled eggs, sausages, white toast with jam, hash browns, bacon, and baked beans, and all three of them had a large glass of orange juice to top it off. Sirius felt his mouth watering as the delicious smell of the food filled his senses.
The three of them began to eat in silence. The window was open, allowing the continuous sound of birdsong to filter in. There was warmth in the sound as Sirius allowed it to soothe the anxiety that kept trying to creep in. He held tightly onto the memory of last night as he thought adamantly: Remember Philadelphia. Remember Philadelphia. Remember Philadelphia.
A sudden memory burst to life in his mind that struck a potent chord. For all the years he'd suffered in Azkaban, one phrase had echoed like a drumbeat in his mind: I'm innocent. I'm innocent. I'm innocent. Through the hell of the Dementors forcing him to repeatedly live through his worst moments, the disgusting, vile food that was served to him, and the freezing cold that never lifted, those three words had helped him to endure. Yes, being able to turn into Padfoot had assisted him tremendously too, but it was his innocence that had allowed him the ability to even think to transform at all.
And he realized that the mantra of, "Remember Philadelphia," was helping him in the same fashion. The fact that he was so familiar with using a mantra as incentive was allowing him the chance to do it again at a time when he needed it most.
And he needed to be strong for Harry right now. He needed to succeed this time, when he had failed spectacularly when his life had fallen apart on Halloween 1981. If he was to be the right kind of guardian for Harry, he couldn't break. No matter what happened with the Healers today, no matter what they said ...
He heard Harry's quiet voice again, his surity that he knew how much Lily and James loved him, how much they loved Sirius. He heard the strength that was contained in the words, that Harry had felt their love all around him as he faced Voldemort in the graveyard. He heard him say that that love never ended, even when you weren't on this plane of existence anymore.
And Sirius held onto those two words - "Remember Philadelphia" - for all he was worth. He would use them as a foundation, as a way to move forward. He would forever hold onto the memory of the pure magic in that hallway, and cherish it for the rest of his life.
Harry's voice broke through Sirius's thoughts as he addressed Dixon. "When are we leaving for the appointment?" he asked, and Sirius was struck once again by his godson's sheer bravery. "Where is it?"
Dixon's expression held strength and determination as well as he answered Harry. "It's at two o'clock this afternoon, and it's located at one of this country's other Ministry buildings, in Washington, DC."
Harry couldn't help but look interested. "That's where the American government is. The Muggle one," he said for Sirius's benefit.
Sirius knew this, as Lily had once explained it to him, but he wondered how many British magicals knew. He had noticed that many of them seemed to be very ignorant of Muggle affairs, and he had to confess that he didn't possess much knowledge of their world either, especially what went on in other countries. He was still fascinated by everything he had learned the day before - he hadn't known anything about the American wizarding world either. How could he have been so self-absorbed, to only really care about Britain?
He also wondered something else - why hadn't other countries offered to help in the First War against Voldemort? Were their governments just as self-absorbed as the British Ministry seemed to be? Had there been megolomaniac Dark Lords in other countries that Britain hadn't helped with?
"Exactly," Dixon said, pulling Sirius back into the current conversation. "The Ministry building there is similar to the one we saw in Philadelphia yesterday. However, one of the specialized departments there is very different. In Washington, DC, magical healing is studied extensively. Because of this, it seemed only natural that the biggest hospital would be built there, although, just like the magical schools and other wizarding districts, there are more scattered throughout the country. Saint Joseph's is very much like Saint Mungo's, except it's bigger, and it isn't far away from some major research facilities, which are located in the Ministry building."
At their intrigued expressions, Dixon continued. "As you know, when a Muggle sustains an injury such as a broken bone, it literally takes weeks, or sometimes months, to heal it, while a witch or wizard with the right training can wave a wand, and you can be healed immediately. Also, with other kinds of injuries, there are different methods to help Muggles heal, while, once again, wizards only need to wave a wand."
He then went into a detailed explanation of different kinds of therapies, including one called "acupuncture". Needless to say, Sirius was horrified. "Bloody hell," he breathed. "Merlin above, why would any Muggle put up with needles being stuck in them? How would that help them heal? That's barbaric!"
Dixon chuckled, causing Sirius to become rather indignant. "Do you know how many times I've heard a witch or wizard react that way?" he asked lightly. "Honestly, it produces more desirable results than you would believe. On the surface - yes, I agree that it sounds rather unpleasant, and many Muggles also choose not to go through with it. But it's a method that has certainly assisted with healing many injuries. It has even been known to help those who suffer with anxiety issues."
"Impossible." Sirius shook his head. He couldn't imagine such a thing.
Harry was gazing back and forth between Sirius and Dixon as he explained how Ron had once reacted to his description of surgery, and how it had saved many lives. Ron had had the same reaction to that as Sirius had to acupuncture. "He said, and I quote, "Doctors cut people open and use some barbaric method to heal them? That's insane, mate." Hermione got pretty steamed at him for it, and went into a lecture about the advances in Muggle medicine," he explained. "They bickered about it all the way back to the common room." His face bore a look of fond exasperation as he was obviously thinking of his two best friends.
Sirius's mind buzzed with everything he had learned. There was so much about the Muggle world that he didn't know, and he realized something important as he continued to eat his breakfast. As much as he told himself that he was much more accepting and much less narrowminded than the snobby Purebloods who prided themselves on hating all things Muggle, he couldn't say that he knew much more about that world than they did. Even with Lily as one of his best friends, he couldn't say he'd asked her much about her heritage. For the first time he could ever remember, he truly felt ashamed of his ignorance.
Dixon seemed to take no offense to any of this, though, and only gave Sirius and Harry a smile of understanding. "Obviously, I have absolutely nothing against Purebloods, or wizarding culture," he said quietly. "But I have always thought that the magical world would be a better place if more was known about the Muggle world. It is ignorance, after all, that makes people jump to conclusions, and concoct theories that have no basis in fact."
Sirius nodded, looking very pensive, and he saw that Harry was looking the same as he felt. He realized that Voldemort had exploited the ignorance of those around him - it had, unfortunately, been easy to create the Death Eater ideology, and it struck Sirius as exceedingly sad.
"As far as this wizarding hospital is concerned," Dixon continued, "it is known as the best, and most advanced, one in the country. Muggles are constantly looking for advancements and improvements in their methods of healing, and wizards are doing the same. More potions are being created to cure afflictions, including ones caused by magical creatures." He looked meaningfully at Sirius.
Realization dawned on him. "Like lycanthropy?" he asked softly, thinking of Remus.
"Yes, exactly." Dixon nodded. "The Wolfsbane Potion was invented in Britain by Damacles Belby, and that has gone a long way to helping werewolves during the full moon. However, it does not cure the disease altogether, and many countries in the wizarding world are searching to find the solution."
"I hope someone finds a cure for lycanthropy," Harry whispered, his eyes far away. "It's so awful, what werewolves have to go through. It's not fair, and they can't control it."
Sirius wholeheartedly agreed - Remus didn't deserve the hand he had been dealt, and it was incredibly cruel. However, he felt no compassion towards the werewolf who had bitten him, Fenrir Greyback; he felt a pure, utter loathing towards the monster.
And no, he wasn't a monster simply because he was a werewolf. He was a monster because he had embraced his condition, employing it as a weapon to hurt others. He had become so bitter and angry at the world that he had started biting children as revenge, and wanted to create his own army to overrun the wider wizarding world. Sirius hated him with a blistering, burning passion, but also despised the fact that it was the wizarding world's bigotry that had created Greyback in the first place.
"Another thing the Healers study at the research facility," Dixon explained quietly as he gazed intensely at Harry and Sirius, "is the human brain, and what foreign magical influences can do to it."
Sirius was brought harshly back to the entire reason he and Harry were here. Everything else disappeared out of his mind as a familiar thrill of fear tore its way through him. Remember Philadelphia, he told himself staunchly, trying to keep it at bay.
"They study things, such as the long-term effects the Dementors can have on a person," Dixon went on. "Unlike in Britain, American prisons do not use Dementors to subdue their prisoners. They used to, but no longer. As I have said, the prisons hold many similarities to Azkaban, considering the fact that they also keep their prisoners in solitary confinement, and the buildings themselves are situated in places where the ability to escape is pretty much unheard of. The American Ministry considers it cruel and unusual punishment to use Dementors - it is, after all, a form of torture."
Sirius shuddered as flickers of memories ran past his mind's eye, of the screams, sobs, and deranged cackles he had heard his fellow inmates emit in Azkaban. He remembered constantly reliving seeing James's lifeless eyes and the tear tracks that still stained Lily's cheeks when Sirius had found her. He remembered the feeling of despair that swallowed him as he handed his godson over to Hagrid. He remembered the sneer that had marred Peter's face for just an instant as the street blew up around them, the screams of Muggles permeating the air. "Pity the British Ministry doesn't feel the same way," he croaked.
Harry took his hand and squeezed it tightly. "Do you think they'll get a clue?" he asked quietly. "Even witches and wizards who have committed horrible crimes - how can using Dementors be the right thing?"
Dixon looked grim. "You have no idea how many times I have tried to convince others in Britain that this is true," he said softly. "Unfortunately, there are many in the Ministry who disagree."
Sirius remembered how Sturgis had told him during his stay in the Ministry holding cell before his trial that he had managed to convince Amelia Bones not to have the Dementors steer him into court, when it was normally protocol for them to do so. Sturgis hadn't said much about Dementors during Sirius's Auror training, but he'd always had the feeling that the man strongly disliked them. After all, he'd been extremely adamant that Sirius learn how to cast a corporeal Patronus. However, it seemed as though many in law enforcement were comfortable with adhering to the status quo, unprepared to make waves. Sirius wondered what had caused the American Ministry to actually go through with the change.
Harry adopted a look of resolve as he held Sirius's eyes. "I'm the Boy Who Lived." There was a rather sardonic note in his voice, and Sirius knew at once that his godson was planning something impulsive. Pride welled up inside of him - it was the part of Harry that wholly reminded him of his parents.
Dixon instantly understood where Harry was going with this. "And you would like to use your fame to convince the Ministry to stop using Dementors in Azkaban," he stated knowingly. "Harry, I commend you for the thought. But it will be much harder than you think."
There was a glint in Harry's emerald eyes, that glint of obstinacy that Sirius had so often seen in Lily. It was the glint she'd always had in her eyes when she was screaming at the Marauders to leave Snape alone. It was the same glint she got when she stood, wand raised, unafraid to fight the Death Eaters that were all too willing to hurt her and those she loved.
What Dixon had just said definitely hadn't discouraged Harry one bit. "But they want to prove how sorry they are that they put Sirius through hell, don't they?" The spark in his eyes only grew more prominent. "Sirius lived for twelve years with the Dementors."
Dixon shook his head, looking incredibly sad. "That argument will sway many, but not all," he said quietly.
"Because I defied all expectations, and showed everyone at my trial that I am somehow not a raving lunatic," Sirius said, realizing the reason for this. Dixon nodded sadly in confirmation.
"But that's ... that's ..." Harry looked furious. "If the American government no longer uses Dementors, then the British government shouldn't use them either," he said emphatically, his emerald eyes boring into Sirius's.
Sirius felt his throat constrict as he took Harry's hand in his own. He saw the fire blazing in his green eyes, and knew that Harry was not about to give up his goal.
"If my name's going to be known all over the wizarding world, I might as well make it known for something I actually did, and something I actually remember," Harry said, his face never losing that obstinate expression.
When Sirius could finally speak past the lump in his throat, he whispered, "You make me exceedingly proud to call you my godson."
Harry smiled, his eyes bright and full of resolve. "I might as well do something useful," he said lightly, although there was something in his voice that made Sirius's heart seize. Although Harry was making light of it, there was something underlying there - he was afraid of his time running out without making his true mark on the world.
What he didn't realize, Sirius thought as he held Harry's eyes, was that he already had.
xxx
Dixon spent several more minutes discussing what other research the Healers in Washington, DC partook in. As well as studying the effects Dementors had on people, the Mind Healers were also looking at even darker matters, like spells a witch or wizard could cast that could alter one's perception of reality.
It was terrifying, what human beings had the capacity to do to one another. And if you possessed magic, it was somehow even scarier. Harry thought again of the fake memory of himself murdering Cedric, and how Healers Pollander and Shaddock had attempted to implant that into Dumbledore. The American Mind Healers were delving into those areas as well, and Harry couldn't help but wonder if Dixon had asked for their assistance in healing Dumbledore while he had been here. It didn't seem likely, unless Dixon had been desperate for their help.
It seemed obvious to Harry, after he'd learned exactly what kinds of things they studied, that they would take up the challenge of a human Horcrux. It was exceedingly difficult for Harry's skin not to crawl with revulsion when he thought about the fact that he had part of Voldemort's soul housed safely inside him. There were times he had to constantly remind himself that this didn't make him tainted in any way, or cause him to lose who he actually was.
Harry focused on all the information he had discovered as he breathed in the fresh air of autumn. It was very pleasant outside, and he and Sirius were currently sitting out on the deck. They only had a few precious minutes left before they had to leave for Washington, DC.
The more he was finding out about the American wizarding world, the more intriguing it was becoming. He wanted to know more - which states were the other Ministry buildings in, and what were their specialized departments? America was such a massive country - just how many Ministry buildings were there?
He thought again about the Dementors, and shuddered. He knew he couldn't tell anyone about his trip here - only Sturgis, McGonagall, Bill, and Moody knew - but he could certainly explain that he had found out that the American government didn't use Dementors without letting on that he'd come here to visit, couldn't he? Surely, there must be other people in Britain who knew? They couldn't all be so self-absorbed that they only cared about their own country?
Every time he closed his eyes, the Hallway of Humanity, in its true form, shimmered into being. He realized that, if his appointment with the Mind Healers didn't go as he hoped ... he'd gotten to experience something almost ... unreal. It was an everlasting imprint of the souls who had given their all to create such a place, and he wondered how many others had been able to experience it.
And as Dixon came outside and said the words that made Harry's heart race and Sirius's face grow pale, he knew he had to keep holding onto that memory.
"We have to go."
As soon as Dixon spoke the words, he stood, as did Sirius. He squared his shoulders and straightened his spine, adopting the same stance he had held while facing Voldemort, hearing the Death Eaters' nasty laughter all around him as he knew that within minutes, he would be dead.
And yet, that hadn't happened. Harry always seemed to defy the odds. Maybe, he'd be able to achieve it again. After all, he still had so much left to do.
Fear attempted to cloud his senses, but he breathed deeply as he clutched Sirius's hand tightly. Their eyes locked, and Sirius's gray ones blazed with the same emotions Harry was feeling.
Neither spoke. Neither told the other it would all be okay. Neither needed pretty words right now.
But the look they exchanged conveyed every word they didn't say, and as Dixon side-along Apparated Sirius to their destination, and then came back for Harry, the boy continued to hold onto all his good memories.
They would sustain him for whatever would meet them in Washington, DC.
xxx
The Ministry building looked rather the same as the one in Philadelphia, but gave off a rather different feeling when they walked into the atrium. As had happened last night, there was no one inside of it, except a guard who was standing at the desk.
This guard, unlike the one in Philadelphia, looked way more severe. Sirius noticed that the conversation Dixon had with him was much longer, as well.
Sirius honestly wondered how many contacts Dixon had in the American government, and how much they knew. Sirius got the feeling that Dixon was not at all the kind of man who took things like this lightly. What lengths was he willing to go to to keep Harry's secret safe? When he'd reassured them that the Mind Healers would have hell to pay if they told anyone, there was something burning in his eyes which made a shudder ripple down Sirius's spine. He looked almost ... feral when he had spoken like that. He did not show it much, but Sirius somehow knew that Arnold Dixon was an extremely dangerous man, and not one to cross without dire consequences.
Dixon had once again disguised Sirius and Harry. It was obvious that Dixon didn't trust the guard to know who they really were. The Healers would know, but they were sworn to secrecy and would understand why neither of them looked like themselves.
This building, unlike the one last night, had a sterile air about it that didn't sit well with Sirius. Maybe it was amplified by the fact that he and Harry weren't here for anything pleasant, but he still didn't like the atmosphere of it at all.
Remember Philadelphia.
Once again, his new mantra entered his mind, and as Dixon guided him and Harry towards the elevators, he clutched it tightly in his hands, using it in order to put one foot in front of the other.
Left foot. Remember Philadelphia.
Right foot. Remember Philadelphia.
Left foot. Remember Philadelphia.
Right foot. Remember Philadelphia.
His heart swelled with both love and sadness as he saw Harry walking, straight-backed and proud, beside him. It was the way a soldier looked when preparing for battle, Sirius reflected as his stomach twisted. It was the way James used to look when a message came that there was a battle going on, and they needed to drop everything and fight. It was the way he looked when he and Lily were told it would be best if they went into hiding in order to protect Harry. It was the way he'd looked the last time Sirius had seen him alive, when he was trying so hard to stay strong for himself, for Lily, for baby Harry, for the Marauders. Sirius would never forget the feeling of the last embrace he and James had shared. "I love you, mate." His whisper would forever stay with Sirius.
Damn Voldemort. Damn him all the way to Hell. Damn him for making young people look so old. Damn him for making Harry look like a hero when he was supposed to look like a child. Damn him.
It turned out that the elevator only had to go up one floor, to Level 2, Research and Rumination. As the automated voice spoke the words, Sirius felt as though all the breath had left him, like all the air being sucked out of a balloon.
He tried desperately to replace the sterile atmosphere with thoughts of the Hallway of Humanity as Dixon led them down a maze of corridors. The other man had to be very familiar with the place, because he seemed to know it like the back of his hand.
There were many offices they passed, and other rooms with locked doors. What they contained, Sirius didn't know, but the entire hallway felt eerie. There was almost a feeling of ... danger that permeated the air - the hallway seemed to be saturated with ... knowledge. That was the only way Sirius could think to describe the sensations he received from this corridor. It was like it was screaming a warning at him, asking him whether he wanted to be here, among all this sacred information.
He looked over at Harry, and saw the paleness of his complexion. The boy closed his eyes briefly, and Sirius reached out for his hand. "You okay, kiddo?" he asked hoarsely.
"I ... this place is ..." Harry stuttered, unable to put his feelings eloquently.
Sirius nodded in agreement. "Intense," he finished for him. "Like it contains a lot of secrets."
Dixon looked exceedingly serious as he continued to guide them. He simply nodded, without saying anything at all.
After what seemed like an age, they finally arrived at a door that said, "Healer Fields." Sirius held his breath as Dixon knocked on the door.
Within seconds, the knock was answered by a short, blonde-haired witch who smiled kindly at them. "Hello, Arnold," she said in a voice that instantly made Sirius feel more at ease.
"Hello, Alexandra," Dixon replied, and his answering smile suggested the two of them knew each other quite well. Sirius hadn't known what he was expecting, but it hadn't been this.
Her eyes then fell on Harry, and she looked at him warmly. "Harry Potter, I presume," she said gently. "And Sirius Black." The smiles she bestowed on Harry and Sirius were just as warm. "Do come in." She beckoned all three of them inside the room, her manner still very reassuring.
Sirius discovered that the room they walked into looked much more inviting than the rest of the corridor. There was a sofa, with a coffee table that contained a tray of cookies. There was a desk with several papers on it, and some bookshelves which contained, no doubt, a lot of interesting material.
There was also another area of the room that served as a kitchen. Healer Fields saw Sirius and Harry looking around, and she smiled.
"I spend a lot of time in this room," she said at once, her eyes sparkling. "There is a cafeteria on the third floor, but most of the time, I simply eat in here. Most of my colleagues eat in their kitchens as well - we get much too involved in our research to bother spending time elsewhere. People in the other departments accuse us of being antisocial, as if they wouldn't be the same way if they were in our position," she said with a chuckle.
Her bright, laughing eyes and her openness soothed something in Sirius. Some of the apprehension he had felt only moments before began to evaporate.
"Oh, how rude of me. I forgot to introduce myself!" The woman smiled again. "I'm Healer Alexandra Fields." She held out her hand, and Harry shook it, his eyes wide as he gazed at her. It was clear that Harry didn't know quite what to make of her, but his stance also suggested he was becoming more comfortable as the seconds passed. The way she gazed at Sirius showed an incredible amount of compassion and sympathy, but not pity. Sirius appreciated that more than she knew.
"I'll pop the kettle on, shall I?" Alexandra looked very much at ease in this space, as if it were her home, which, Sirius supposed, it really was. "Fancy some hot chocolate? Those cookies in front of you are delicious - I would know. Make yourselves at home, won't you, and don't let Arnold take too many of them," she directed at Dixon in a tone that told Sirius just how familiar they were with each other.
"I would not be so selfish as to rid you of ALL your cookies," Dixon quipped back. "I know better than that."
Alexandra rolled her eyes, looking fondly exasperated as she bustled over to the kitchen area and began preparing hot chocolate. Sirius watched as Harry reached for a cookie, looking delighted as he munched on it. Sirius couldn't help but do the same as he listened to the Mind Healer hum as she worked.
It was obvious exactly what Healer Fields was doing - she was trying her best to calm Harry and Sirius's nerves. Harry shot the woman a smile as he seemed to understand as well. "These are delicious, as you say," he murmured as she Levitated a tray over to them, with five mugs of hot chocolate on it. Sirius wondered who the fifth one was for.
"Indeed, they are," Dixon agreed wholeheartedly.
"I know YOU think so," Fields said, still with that teasing lilt to her tone.
Sirius had so many questions. How long had Dixon known her? Did they work together often? There was a level of familiarity there that suggested they had a history. Honestly, it made him feel infinitely more comfortable.
Alexandra smiled again. "Enjoy your refreshments while I go and retrieve my colleague, Mark Frampton, who has been working with me on this research. He's in the office down the hall - I'll be right back."
With that, she left Harry, Sirius, and Dixon in the room. They could hear her heels clicking down the hallway. It was obvious now who the fifth hot chocolate had been for.
Sirius exchanged a glance with Harry as the boy took another cookie from the tray. "You okay, kiddo?" he asked quietly.
"Yeah," Harry answered just as softly. Turning to Dixon, he stated, "It seems like she knows you well."
"We've been working together for several years now." Dixon smiled. "Not that Saint Mungo's knows that. And you're very much going to like Healer Frampton as well. I can assure you of that."
After about a minute, Healer Fields returned with a man of average height. He had short red hair and brown eyes, which sparkled in the same way that Alexandra's did. He also gave off an aura of friendliness as he introduced himself and shook everyone's hands. His manner with Dixon suggested that he, too, had a very familiar working relationship with him.
Both Frampton and Fields took chairs while Sirius, Harry, and Dixon continued to sit on the sofa. The atmosphere in the room grew more intense as Healer Fields got to the heart of the matter.
Her eyes were so kind as she gazed at Harry, and they continued to hold no pity in their depths, only empathy and understanding. Sirius couldn't deny that he had been concerned that these Healers would look at Harry like he was some kind of magical phenomenon, like he was some kind of bizarre magical experiment that had somehow malfunctioned. Or, worse yet, he had been afraid that they'd look at Harry with fear and suspicion, like he was about to attack them, like Voldemort could use him as a weapon at any second.
But neither of them were looking at him like that. They obviously knew that this situation must be handled with great care. Harry was looking steadily at them, and they gazed back at him, never looking away for a second, showing him that they weren't going to treat him at all differently than any of their other patients.
"We know that this is a very difficult situation, Mr. Potter, and I must commend you for your courage in coming here today," Fields said quietly. "I know that neither of us can truly understand what you're going through, but we can assure you that there is hope."
Frampton nodded resolutely. "We have been working as Mind Healers for over twenty years, and have seen much during that time. The sheer evil some human beings possess is astounding," he said bluntly. "Therefore, Alexandra and I feel it is our mission to counteract that evil."
Harry's gaze was still steady. "Is it really true that there's a way to ... to remove that ... that Horcrux from me without ..." He took a deep breath. "Without me dying?" he asked quietly.
For a brief instant, Alexandra looked like she was going to choke up. Sirius shuddered - every time Harry mentioned his own death like that, he felt his skin prickle and his heart tear itself in two. The fact that he always talked about it so frankly broke something in Sirius, and it was clear it had made Alexandra's gut clench, too.
Frampton, as well, looked away from Harry for a second. When he looked back at him and answered, however, his response was delivered calmly. "Yes," he said quietly. "We think we have the answer."
"There are still some hurdles to clear before we can think about performing the required magic," Alexandra said. "This is why we will only be discussing it today, and not casting the spells."
Sirius felt his heart flip in his chest. The Healers were sounding very hopeful. Surely, they wouldn't say such things if they weren't true?
"Really?" Harry's voice was small, and Sirius once again realized that though his godson's bravery knew no bounds, he was still a fifteen-year-old child who was terrified. In truth, Sirius wanted there to be far more instances where he could act like a child and not the soldier Dumbledore had been training him to be.
And then, suddenly, the worst happened. One second, Harry had been staring at the Healers with an aching, desperate hope, and in the next, he was grabbing his scar and letting out a scream that rattled the walls and shook every occupant of the room to their core.