Disclaimer: I only own the plot , if any text from original source is used then they would belong to one and only J.K. Rowling. Hope You Like it.
Dudley Dursley was the epitome of a spoiled child, but it wasn't entirely his fault. His parents, Vernon and Petunia, had always indulged his every whim, never teaching him the value of discipline or the difference between right and wrong.
As a result, Dudley grew up with a warped sense of entitlement, often finding pleasure in bullying those weaker than him. Harry Potter, his unwanted cousin, had been a favorite target.
Despite his cruel ways, Dudley didn't exactly hate Harry. He simply didn't understand him, and their relationship was complicated. But now, with Harry absent from the Dursleys' home for 12 days, Dudley felt an unexpected pang.
He wandered the empty halls, feeling lonely and restless. "What's taking him so long?" Dudley muttered to himself.
As the silence surrounded him, Dudley's thoughts began to unravel. He recalled the times he'd tormented Harry, the cruel pranks and hurtful words. A faint glimmer of guilt flickered within him.
"Maybe I was too hard on him," Dudley thought, his conscience stirring.
But what if something had happened to Harry? What if he never came back?
Dudley's brow furrowed, his mind racing with unsettling questions...
It had been 10 days since the mysterious Mrs. Tucker arrived at the Dursleys', her solemn face delivering unsettling news. "Harry Potter has contracted an infectious disease," she had said, her voice firm but laced with concern. "To ensure your family's safety, he will be staying away until he's cured."
Dudley had barely reacted then, but now, as the days ticked by, he couldn't shake off the growing unease. Harry still hadn't returned. "What if he's...what if he's going to die?" Dudley thought, his mind wandering to dark possibilities.
He paced around the living room, his brow furrowed. "Why do I even care?" he muttered to himself. "He's just Harry, the unwanted cousin." But did it truly not matter to him? Dudley's thoughts swirled, conflicting emotions rising to the surface.
"He's always been so...weak," Dudley thought, recalling his numerous bullying sessions. Yet, a nagging voice whispered, "You're worried, Dudley. Admit it." Dudley's eyes narrowed, his inner turmoil intensifying. "No, I'm not," he argued with himself. "I just...I just want things back to normal." But what was normal, exactly?
Dudley's thoughts swirled, a mix of confusion and realization. He had never truly understood Harry's suffering. His father, Vernon, had always kept the worst of Harry's abuse hidden from him.
"All I knew was that Harry was a freak," Dudley thought, his conscience stirring. "A weirdo who lived in our house, and I could bully him whenever I pleased."
But the arrival of the giant, Hagrid, had changed everything. The humiliation of growing a pig's tail still lingered, and with it, a twisted sense of empathy for Harry.
"Maybe if I knew what he went through, I wouldn't have been so hard on him," Dudley thought, a pang of guilt striking him.
Yet, as the days passed, Dudley's concern grew. Harry still hadn't returned, and the uncertainty gnawed at him.
"Why hasn't he come back?" Dudley wondered, his brow furrowed. "Is he...is he really sick?"
A shiver ran down his spine as he contemplated the possibilities. "What if something's happened to him?"
Dudley's eyes dropped, his thoughts tangled in a web of worry and regret...
That fateful day still haunted Dudley's mind. It was when his father, Vernon, had ripped off Harry's t-shirt, revealing a body that was both surprising and disturbing. Harry's muscular physique was unexpected, but it was the scars that covered his skin that left Dudley stunned.
"They were everywhere," Dudley recalled, his thoughts laced with horror. "On his back, his arms, his torso... How could I have not known?"
In school, Dudley had learned about physical abuse, but he never imagined it happened in his own home. The realization hit him like a ton of bricks: his father was abusing Harry.
For the first time, Dudley saw the truth. His father's cruelty, Harry's suffering. The beating that day wasn't an isolated incident; it was a pattern of abuse.
But fear gripped Dudley, silencing him. "What if they turn on me?" he thought, his heart racing. "What if they beat me too?"
Dudley knew he was a coward. He couldn't confront his parents, couldn't stand up for Harry. The guilt and shame weighed heavily on his conscience.
"Why didn't I do something?" Dudley tormented himself. "Why didn't I help him?"
The memories still lingered, a painful reminder of his inaction...
Dudley sat in his room, his mind reeling from the shocking realization. When Mrs. Tucker announced Harry's infectious disease, his parents' nonchalant reaction exposed their true feelings.
"They don't care," Dudley thought, disgust welling up inside him. "They really don't care if Harry lives or dies."
His suspicions, long buried, now seemed painfully obvious. His parents' hatred and abuse of Harry were undeniable.
"Clever," Dudley thought bitterly. "They were always so clever, never leaving marks on his face. But the rest of him..."
Dudley's stomach churned as he recalled the scars he'd seen. His parents' cruelty, once hidden, now seemed blatant.
"I was so blind," Dudley whispered to himself.
As the darkness of his family's secrets enveloped him, Dudley made a quiet vow.
"I'll change," he thought. "I'll be different. I'll be civil to him, at least."
A small step, perhaps, but for Dudley, it was a start.
"I won't be like them," he whispered, determination growing within. "I won't hate him."
Madam Pomfrey emerged from the fireplace at St. Mungo's, her usually calm demeanor replaced by urgency. She swiftly made her way to Pyre, who was pacing anxiously.
"Ah, Madam Pomfrey!" Pyre exclaimed, relief etched on his face.
Together, they rushed toward the emergency room, where the Weasley family was gathered, their faces tense with worry.
As they approached, Bill, Percy, Fred, George, Molly, and Arthur looked up, surprise written across their faces.
"Madam Pomfrey! What brings you here?" Arthur asked, his brow furrowed.
However, Ron and Ginny exchanged confused glances. They had yet to attend Hogwarts and didn't know the school's nurse.
"Who's that?" Ron whispered to Ginny.
Ginny shrugged. "No idea."
Madam Pomfrey's eyes swept the room, her gaze locking onto the door behind which Harry lay.
"Pyre, what's the situation?" she asked, her voice firm and commanding.
Pyre's expression turned grave. "It's severe, Madam Pomfrey. We're doing everything we can."
Pyre carefully handed Madam Pomfrey a delicate, damaged flower petal. The Weasleys watched intently, their curiosity piqued.
"I suspect these are Blasting Curse petals," Pyre said gravely.
Madam Pomfrey's eyes widened as she scanned the petal. "Good heavens," she gasped. "You're right, Pyre. This is indeed a Blasting Curse."
Pyre's expression turned urgent. "I'll check on Harry. Please, Madam Pomfrey, register your visit and join me for the treatment."
"Patient's name is Harry Potter," Pyre added, before rushing back to the emergency ward.
Madam Pomfrey's eyes darted toward the Weasleys, her expression tense. She swiftly conjured a Patronus – a duck – and dispatched it to Hogwarts.
"Professor McGonagall, Professor Dumbledore," the Patronus delivered Madam Pomfrey's urgent message. "'Harry Potter is the patient. Blasting Curse confirmed."
The Weasleys remained oblivious to the petal's significance, but Ginny's concern was palpable. As Madam Pomfrey turned to leave, Ginny stepped forward.
"Wait, Madam Pomfrey," Ginny said, her voice laced with worry. "What's happening to Harry? What's wrong with him?"
Madam Pomfrey's expression softened, but her words were measured. "I'll inform you everything shortly, dear. First, I must attend to the registration..."
Molly Weasley was by Mrs. Tucker's side, trying to comfort her as she frantically cried. The elderly woman, revealed to be Harry's grandmother, was beside herself with worry.
"Oh, dear Molly, I'm so scared for him!" Mrs. Tucker sobbed, her body shaking.
Molly wrapped a reassuring arm around her shoulders. "We'll do everything we can, Mrs. Tucker. Madam Pomfrey is the best, and she'll take good care of Harry."
But Mrs. Tucker's distress only intensified. "I should have been there for him, Molly! I should have protected him!"
The other Weasleys, too, were visibly upset, their faces etched with concern. Bill and Ron exchanged worried glances, while Fred and George looked pale. Arthur's eyes were red-rimmed, and Ginny's face was streaked with tears.
Ron, still unaware of the full situation, looked around at his family's distress. "What's going on? What's wrong with Harry?" he asked, his voice laced with fear.
But before anyone could answer, Madam Pomfrey returned, her expression grim. "I'm afraid it's worse than you thought..."
Madam Pomfrey's expression turned grave as she began to explain the situation. "The petals are from a rare and treacherous flower, known as the Blasting Curse."
"It's a flower that can change color and attract humans, making it almost irresistible," she continued. "But the moment someone touches it, they receive a terrible magical blast within seconds."
The Weasleys listened in horror, their eyes wide with fear.
"This flower is known to grow anywhere, at any time," Madam Pomfrey said, her voice laced with concern. "But what's most alarming is that it hasn't been seen in over two centuries."
"How did it end up here?" Arthur asked, his voice barely above a whisper.
Madam Pomfrey's expression was grim. "That's what we need to find out. But first, we need to focus on Harry. The blast he received was severe, and we need to act quickly to save him."
As Madam Pomfrey rushed back to the emergency ward, the Weasleys were left to process the shocking news. They knew they had to stay strong for Harry, but the fear and uncertainty were palpable...
Ginny's composure crumbled, and she burst into tears. "It was meant for me," she sobbed, her voice trembling.
"I was so stupid," she continued, her words punctuated by anguish. "I saw the flower, and it was so beautiful. I didn't even think twice, I just walked towards it."
Molly rushed to her side, enveloping her in a warm hug.
"I remember Harry calling out to me, telling me to stop," Ginny said, her eyes streaming with tears. "But I didn't listen. He pushed me away, and...and he got caught in the blast."
Ginny's body shook with sobs. "He saved me again. Always saving me."
Ron's face contorted in distress, and he wrapped his arms around Ginny, holding her close.
"Why did he have to do that?" Ginny wailed. "Why does he always have to save me?"
Arthur's voice was soft, but firm. "That's what Harry does, Ginny. He protects those he cares about."
As Ginny's tears continued to flow, Madam Pomfrey returned, her expression somber.
"We need to stay strong for Harry now," she said gently. "He's fighting for his life, and we must be there for him."
But Ginny's guilt and grief only intensified, her heart heavy with the weight of what could have been...
Bill, Ron, and the twins exchanged weighted glances, their minds consumed by the same haunting thought. If Harry hadn't pushed Ginny away, it would have been her lying in the emergency ward, fighting for her life.
The unspoken question hung in the air: "What if?"
Ron's eyes lingered on Ginny, still sobbing in Molly's arms. His face twisted in anguish, he thought, "It could have been her."
Bill's expression turned grim, his eyes clouding with the same dark thought.
Fred and George exchanged a somber glance, their usual jesting nature subdued.
"We owe him," Fred whispered to George, his voice barely audible.
George nodded, his eyes locked on the floor.
But none of them voiced their thoughts aloud, unwilling to add to Ginny's guilt and distress.
Instead, they stood in silence, their faces etched with concern and gratitude for Harry's selfless act.
Arthur, sensing the tension, placed a reassuring hand on Ron's shoulder.
"We'll get through this," he said softly. "Together."
Molly looked up, her eyes red-rimmed. "We need to focus on Harry's recovery now."
Mrs. Tucker's frantic worry had finally taken its toll, and she had been given a sleeping draught to calm her nerves. As she rested, her lap was occupied by a silent, watchful presence - Kluer, Harry's faithful cat.
Kluer's eyes seemed fixed on some distant point, waiting patiently for Harry's return. Her tail twitched occasionally, as if sensing her owner's distress.
Madam Pomfrey checked on Mrs. Tucker, ensuring the sleeping draught was working. "She needs her rest," she whispered to Molly.
Molly nodded, her eyes filled with compassion. "Poor dear, she's been through so much."
As the room fell silent, Kluer remained vigilant, a symbol of loyalty and devotion, waiting for Harry to come back to her...
When Madam Pomfrey's Patronus delivered the urgent message, Dumbledore and McGonagall exchanged grave glances. "The patient is Harry Potter," the Patronus announced.
Professor McGonagall's composure crumbled, and she became frantic. "I must go to him at once!" she exclaimed, rushing out of the room without another word.
Dumbledore, however, remained calm and seated. "We must inform those who care for Harry," he said to himself.
With a gentle wave of his hand, quill and parchment materialized before him. He began to write two letters.
The first was addressed to Remus Lupin, who was currently abroad. "Dear Remus," Dumbledore wrote, "I regret to inform you that Harry Potter has been gravely injured. Madam Pomfrey tends to him at St. Mungo's..."
The second letter was addressed to Arabella Figg. "Dear Arabella," he wrote, "Harry Potter lies injured at St. Mungo's. Your unique skills and vigilance would be a comfort in these trying times. I implore you to join him there..."
As Dumbledore sealed the letters, he whispered, "Wings of speed, carry these words to those who care for Harry." The letters vanished into thin air, carried by enchanted owls to their destinations.
Arabella Figg's eyes widened as she read Dumbledore's letter. She knew exactly what she had to do. With a sense of urgency, she sat down and wrote an anonymous letter to the Dursleys.
"Dear Mr. and Mrs. Dursley," she wrote, "You may be interested to know that your nephew, Harry Potter, lies injured at St. Mungo's Hospital. His condition is grave, and I thought you should be informed."
Without signing her name, Arabella posted the letter in the Dursleys' mailbox, hoping it would prompt them to visit Harry.
However, what she didn't know was that Dudley had been watching from the window. He had seen Mrs. Figg, their quiet and unassuming neighbor, posting a letter in their mailbox.
Dudley's curiosity was piqued. "What business does she have with us?" he wondered.
As he walked back into the house, he mentioned it to his parents. "Someone just posted a letter in our mailbox." He didn't know why , but his instincts told him not to reveal Mrs. Figg.
Vernon and Petunia exchanged a suspicious glance. "Get the letter, Dudley," Vernon growled.
Dudley retrieved the letter, and as his father opened it, their expressions darkened...
Vernon's face twisted in annoyance as he read the letter. "Blasted Potter," he groaned, not a hint of worry or sympathy in his voice.
He handed the letter to Petunia, who scanned it briefly. For a fleeting moment, a flicker of concern crossed her face, but it was quickly extinguished.
"Nonsense," she muttered, crumpling the letter in her hand.
Without another word, they discarded the letter in the trash and continued with their day, oblivious to Harry's plight.
However, Dudley's curiosity had been piqued. He watched as his parents carelessly threw the letter away, and his mind began to whirl.
As soon as they left for their work, Dudley swiftly retrieved the letter from the trash and slipped away to his room.
Dudley's eyes widened as he read the letter, his expression transforming from curiosity to concern.
"No, Harry can't die," he thought to himself, a pang of worry striking his chest.
Without hesitation, he rushed to Mrs. Figg's house, the letter clutched in his hand.
Mrs. Figg was taken aback by Dudley's sudden visit. She opened the door to find him standing on her porch, looking frantic.
"Dudley, what brings you here?" she asked, her voice tinged with surprise.
But before she could continue, Dudley blurted out, "What's going on with Harry? I read the letter you sent to my parents."
Mrs. Figg's expression turned cautious, unsure how much to reveal. "What do you know, Dudley?" she asked, her eyes narrowing slightly.
"I know Harry's hurt," Dudley replied, his voice laced with concern. "Is he going to be okay?"
Realization dawned on Dudley, and his eyes widened in astonishment. "You're...you're magical, aren't you?" he asked, his voice barely above a whisper.
Mrs. Figg nodded, a hint of a smile on her face. "I am, Dudley."
Dudley's expression turned determined. "My parents don't care about Harry, but I do. I promise I'll never reveal your secret to anyone."
Mrs. Figg's eyes softened, seeing the genuine concern in Dudley's face.
"I want to visit Harry," Dudley requested, his voice filled with conviction. "But I need to hide my appearance. My parents would kill me if they found out."
Mrs. Figg's eyebrows shot up in surprise, but she nodded. "Very well, Dudley. I'll help you."
She rummaged through her pocket and produced a small, shimmering candy. "This is a Disguise Sweet. It will change your appearance for a few hours."
Dudley took the candy and popped it into his mouth. Suddenly, his bulky frame shrunk, his eyes turned blue, and his hair transformed into messy brown locks.
Mrs. Figg smiled. "You now look like Timothy, a skinny boy from the neighborhood."
Dudley gazed at his reflection in a nearby window, stunned. "Wow, I'm...I'm someone else."
"Come, Timothy," Mrs. Figg said with a smile. "Let's go visit Harry."
Dudley's eyes widened as Mrs. Figg grasped his hand, leading him to the fireplace. "Hold on tight, Dudley," she said with a reassuring smile. "We're going to Floo to St. Mungo's."
Before he could process what was happening, Mrs. Figg whispered, "St. Mungo's Hospital!" and they were sucked into the flames.
Dudley's stomach lurched as the room spun around him. He felt like he was being pulled apart and put back together again. The heat was intense, and his face felt scorched.
"What's...what's happening?" Dudley stuttered, his voice muffled by the rushing wind.
Mrs. Figg's calm voice echoed in his ear, "Just breathe, Dudley. It's almost over."
The sensation was overwhelming – like being on a rollercoaster, in a tornado, and underwater all at once. Dudley's eyes watered, and his head spun.
Suddenly, they emerged from the flames, and Dudley stumbled, gasping for air. Mrs. Figg steadied him, her grip firm.
"Welcome to St. Mungo's," she said, smiling.
Dudley looked around, taking in the bustling hospital. "Blimey," he muttered, still reeling from the Floo experience. "That was...crazy."
Mrs. Figg chuckled. "You'll get used to it, Dudley. Now, let's find Harry."
As McGonagall and Dumbledore arrived at St. Mungo's, they were met with a sense of urgency. The Weasley family was gathered around Harry's bedside, their faces etched with worry.
No one looked up in surprise as the two professors approached. They were all too focused on Harry's condition.
"Not a word, Minerva," Bill whispered, as McGonagall approached. "He's still critical."
Dumbledore's eyes scanned the room, taking in the somber atmosphere. "How is he, Madam Pomfrey?" he asked, his voice low.
Madam Pomfrey shook her head. "Still unstable, Professor. We're doing everything we can."
Ron, Ginny, were seated in the corner, their eyes red-rimmed from crying. Fred and George stood by the window, their usual joking nature subdued.
"Any change?" McGonagall asked, her eyes fixed on Harry's pale face.
"Not yet," Mrs. Weasley replied, her voice trembling. "We're just waiting..."
Dumbledore's eyes turned to Ginny, his expression gentle. "Ginny, dear, can you tell me what happened?" he asked, his voice soft.
Ginny's face crumpled, and she buried her face in her hands. "It's my fault, Professor," she sobbed. "I was supposed to meet Harry, but I was late...and then...and then he pushed me out of the way..."
Dumbledore's expression turned thoughtful, but he said nothing. He listened intently as Ginny recounted the events leading up to the accident.
As Ginny spoke, Dumbledore's eyes sparkled with surprise, but he didn't voice his thoughts. He was astonished to learn that Harry had been in contact with the Weasleys before starting Hogwarts, but he kept his curiosity in check.
"It's not your fault, Ginny," Mrs. Weasley comforted, wrapping her arms around her daughter. "You can't blame yourself for this."
But Ginny shook her head, tears streaming down her face. "If only I had been on time...if only I had been more careful..."
Inside the emergency room, the healers gathered around Harry's bedside, their faces etched with a mix of concern and amazement. Despite the severity of his injuries, Harry's chest rose and fell with a steady breath - a miraculous sight.
"It's incredible," one of the healers whispered. "He's still breathing. We need to keep him stable."
As they worked, the healers couldn't help but notice Harry's physique. Despite being only eleven years old, his body was remarkably muscular, with broad shoulders and well-defined arms.
"Look at him," another healer said, her voice filled with wonder. "He's like a young athlete. I've never seen an eleven-year-old with a body like this."
The healers exchanged skeptical glances. "It's impossible," one of them muttered. "He should be dead. But his body...it's still fighting."
Madam Pomfrey's voice was filled with a mix of awe and concern. "We need to understand why his body is reacting like this. Run some tests, see if we can find out what's going on."
The healers nodded, their faces set with determination. "Let's get to work," one of them said. "We need to save him."
Despite the dire situation, Harry's body remained under a powerful glamour charm, concealing his old wounds and scars. The charm was so effective that not even the skilled healers at St. Mungo's could detect it.
The healers were only able to see Harry's current battered body, with no indication of the hidden scars beneath. They worked tirelessly to save his life, unaware of the secrets his body kept.
"No one would ever guess what he's been through," Madam Pomfrey said, shaking her head in awe. "He's been through so much for someone so young."
But what she didn't know was that no one, except Harry himself, knew about his old scars. The glamour charm had been cast to protect him, to keep his past traumas hidden from the world.
Only Harry knew the truth about his body, about the scars that crisscrossed his skin, about the pain he had endured. And he intended to keep it that way.
"It's a miracle he's still alive," one of the healers whispered, but Harry knew it was more than that. It was a testament to his own strength, to his ability to survive against all odds.
Finally, after what seemed like an eternity, the healers had bandaged all of Harry's wounds and applied every type of lotion and potion imaginable. They had done everything in their power to save him, and now all they could do was wait.
"It's a miracle," Madam Pomfrey breathed, her eyes fixed on Harry's still form. "He's stable. He's going to make it."
The other healers nodded in agreement, their faces etched with relief and exhaustion. They had never seen a case like Harry's before - a young boy, brutally injured, and yet...
"And yet, he's survived," one of the healers finished, shaking her head in awe. "He's a fighter, this one."
Pyre's eyes twinkled with a hint of pride. "Yes, Harry Potter is indeed a very special young man."
As they watched, Harry's chest rose and fell with a steady breath, his body finally at peace. He was unconscious, but he was alive, and that was all that mattered.
"For now, we wait," Madam Pomfrey said, her voice soft. "We wait for him to wake up, to see if there are any...lasting effects."
But for now, they could only hope, and be grateful that Harry had made it through the night. Little did they know, his journey was far from over...
Outside Harry's hospital room, Arabella Figg arrived with Dudley, now disguised as Timothy, thanks to the magical candy. Dudley had insisted on keeping his true identity hidden, and Mrs. Figg had agreed.
As they approached the waiting area, Mrs. Figg nodded at the gathered group. "Ah, Professor Dumbledore, Professor McGonagall, Mrs. Weasley..."
The Weasleys, Dumbledore, and McGonagall turned to greet Mrs. Figg, their faces somber with concern. They exchanged quiet nods, united in their worry for Harry.
"Timothy, this is Professor Dumbledore, Professor McGonagall, and the Weasley family," Mrs. Figg introduced, her voice low.
Dudley, now Timothy, nodded shyly, taking in the unfamiliar faces. Despite not knowing each other, they shared a common bond - their concern for Harry's well-being.
"How is he?" Mrs. Figg asked, her eyes locked on McGonagall.
"Stable, for now," McGonagall replied. "But we're still waiting for him to wake up."
Ron, Ginny, looked up, their eyes red-rimmed from crying. Mrs. Weasley wrapped her arms around them, holding them close.
"We're all worried sick," she said, her voice trembling.
Dumbledore's eyes twinkled with reassurance. "We will get through this, together."
As they waited, the group fell into a somber silence, their thoughts focused on Harry's recovery. Timothy, or Dudley, listened intently, his disguised face a mask of concern.
As the wait continued, Pyre Jones and Madam Pomfrey emerged from Harry's hospital room, accompanied by a team of healers. Their faces were etched with a mix of exhaustion and amazement.
"Impossible," Pyre Jones breathed, shaking his head. "He was so unlikely to survive, but..."
Madam Pomfrey finished his sentence. "His body has miraculously coped. We've bandaged his wounds, and he's astonishingly out of danger now."
The group's eyes widened in shock, their mouths agape. Before anyone could react, Madam Pomfrey continued.
"Though he's still unconscious, his vital signs are stable. It's a miracle, really."
Dumbledore's eyes twinkled with a hint of pride. "Harry Potter has always been a fighter."
McGonagall's voice was filled with relief. "This is the best news we could have hoped for."
The Weasleys exchanged tears of joy, hugging each other tightly. Mrs. Figg smiled, her eyes shining with happiness.
Timothy, or Dudley, looked on, his disguised face a mask of confusion. He didn't understand the full extent of what was happening, but he knew it was something remarkable.
As the group began to process the news, Madam Pomfrey added, "We'll need to monitor him closely, but for now...he's going to make it."
Ginny's face lit up with relief as she heard the news, her eyes shining with tears. "Oh, thank goodness!" she exclaimed, her voice trembling. "I was so scared...I thought I was going to lose him."
She took a deep breath, composing herself as she turned to Dumbledore. "Professor, is he really going to be okay?"
Dumbledore smiled warmly. "Yes, Ginny. Harry is going to make a full recovery. But now, I must return to Hogwarts. There is much to prepare for the next term."
McGonagall nodded in agreement. "I'll stay here, keep an eye on Harry's progress."
Dumbledore turned to McGonagall. "Minerva, keep me informed. I will return as soon as possible."
As Dumbledore apparated away, Ginny turned to Pyre Jones. "Can I see Harry now? Please?"
Pyre Jones's expression softened, but he shook his head. "Not tonight, Ginny. He needs rest. Tomorrow, perhaps, but for now, let him recover."
Ginny's face fell, but she nodded understandingly. "Okay...I just want to make sure he's okay."
Mrs. Weasley wrapped her arms around Ginny. "We'll all visit him tomorrow, dear. Together."
Ginny nodded, smiling weakly. "Tomorrow, then."
Arabella Figg gently lifted Mrs. Tucker, who was still sleeping soundly due to the potion, and carefully placed her in the wheelchair. She tucked a soft blanket around her to keep her warm and comfortable.
"There we go, dear," Arabella Figg whispered, smiling down at Mrs. Tucker's peaceful face.
With a final check to ensure Mrs. Tucker was secure, Arabella Figg began to push the wheelchair out of the hospital room. "I'll just take her to get a bed set up for her to sleep," she explained to the others.
As she disappeared into the hallway, Mrs. Weasley nodded. "Poor dear, she's had a long day."
Ginny watched them go, her eyes filled with concern. "Is Mrs. Tucker going to be okay?"
Pyre Jones nodded. "Yes, she just needs rest. The potion will wear off soon, and she'll be back to normal."
Meanwhile, Arabella Figg was already arranging a cozy bed for Mrs. Tucker in a quiet room down the hall. She smiled as she tucked Mrs. Tucker in, whispering, "Sleep tight, dear. You're safe now."
Timothy, or rather Dudley in disguise, slipped away from the group, his eyes drawn to the hospital room window. He couldn't help but wonder about the boy who lay inside, the boy he had once tormented.
As he glanced through the window, he caught a glimpse of Harry's pale face, his body swathed in bandages. For a moment, Dudley felt a pang of guilt, a fleeting sense of remorse.
"What have I done?" he whispered to himself, his voice barely audible.
But he pushed the thought aside, reminding himself that he was here incognito, hidden behind a disguise. No one knew his true identity.
As he continued to watch, he saw Ginny and the Weasleys gathered around Harry's room , their faces etched with concern. He saw the healers moving quietly, tending to Harry's wounds.
Dudley's eyes narrowed, his thoughts swirling with confusion. Why did they care so much about this boy? What was so special about Harry Potter?
He stood there, lost in thought, until Arabella Figg returned, her eyes scanning the hallway. "Timothy, are you alright?" she asked, noticing his distant gaze.
Dudley quickly composed himself. "Yes, I'm fine. Just...worried about Harry, that's all."
Arabella Figg's expression softened. "We all are, dear. But he's going to be okay."
As the evening wore on, Arabella Figg turned to Timothy, nodding discreetly. "Time for us to go, I think," she said quietly.
Timothy, still lost in thought, nodded in agreement. "Yes, thank you, Mrs. Figg."
Together, they bid farewell to the Weasleys and McGonagall, who were still keeping vigil by Harry's bedside.
"We'll return tomorrow," Arabella Figg promised, smiling warmly.
McGonagall nodded. "Take care, Arabella. And thank you for bringing Mrs. Tucker."
As they walked out of the hospital, Timothy glanced back at the window, his eyes lingering on Harry's room.
"Will he really be okay?" Timothy asked, his voice barely above a whisper.
Arabella Figg smiled reassuringly. "Yes, dear. Harry's a fighter. He'll pull through."
Once outside, Arabella Figg transformed Timothy back into Dudley, the disguise lifting as they flooed away into the night, leaving the hospital and its worries behind.
"Remember, Dudley," Arabella Figg whispered as they disappeared, "this is our secret."
As the night wore on, Arthur Weasley gathered his family around him, his voice low and gentle. "Bill, Ron, Fred, George, it's time for you to head back to the Burrow. Inform everyone about Harry's condition."
Ron nodded, but Ginny shook her head, her eyes welling up with tears. "I'm not leaving, Dad. I want to stay with Harry."
Molly Weasley intervened, her voice soft. "Let her stay, Arthur. She needs to be here."
Arthur's expression softened, and he nodded. "Alright, dear. You stay with us."
Bill, Ron, Fred, and George bid farewell to their family, exchanging worried glances. "We'll take care of things at the Burrow," Bill promised.
As they apparated away, Molly, Arthur, McGonagall, and Ginny were left standing outside the emergency room, their faces etched with concern.
"We'll take shifts," McGonagall suggested. "Someone should always be here for Harry."
Molly nodded. "I'll stay tonight. Arthur, you go get some rest."
Arthur hesitated before nodding. "I'll be back in the morning. Ginny, take care of yourself."
Ginny smiled weakly. "I will, Dad."
As Arthur apparated away, McGonagall turned to Molly. "I'll stay with you tonight."
Molly smiled gratefully. "Thank you, Minerva."
As the night wore on, the trio sat on benches outside the emergency room, their eyelids growing heavy. McGonagall, exhausted from the day's events, was the first to succumb to sleep, her head nodding forward.
"I'm getting too old for this," she murmured, her voice barely audible.
Molly Weasley soon followed, her gentle snores a soothing accompaniment to the quiet hospital corridor.
But Ginny remained awake, her eyes fixed on the door to Harry's room. She stroked the soft fur of Kluer, Harry's cat, who was sleeping peacefully in her lap.
"I'm not leaving you, Harry," she whispered, her voice full of determination.
Kluer stirred, nuzzling Ginny's hand, as if sensing her distress.
As the hours ticked by, Ginny sat vigil, her eyes never leaving the door, her heart filled with worry and love for her dear Harry.
As the hours passed, Harry's body began to stir, his cells working tirelessly to accelerate the healing process. It was as if his body had a mind of its own, determined to recover from the devastating injuries he had sustained.
Deep within his tissues, a subtle yet remarkable transformation was taking place. His body was harnessing its own innate powers to fasten the overall healing process, working in tandem with the medical magic that had been applied.
But this extraordinary phenomenon remained unknown to those keeping vigil outside his room. McGonagall, Molly, and Ginny continued their anxious watch, unaware of the incredible forces at work within Harry's body.
"I wish there was something more we could do," Ginny whispered, her eyes brimming with tears.
Meanwhile, Harry's body continued its silent, miraculous work, steadily mending the wounds that had threatened to claim his life.
Ginny, still awake and sitting outside the emergency room, couldn't shake off the image of Harry's battered body, now bandaged and bruised. Her eyes welled up with tears as she thought of the ordeal he had endured.
As she sat there, her mind wandered back to the moment she had seen him lying on the hospital bed, his body broken and fragile. She had felt a surge of fear, a sense of desperation wash over her.
And now, as she sat vigil, she found herself whispering words of longing, her voice barely audible. "Don't leave me, Harry! Please!"
McGonagall, who had been resting, stirred, her eyes opening to find Ginny's face etched with worry. "Ginny, dear, try to rest. Harry is in good hands," she said softly.
But Ginny's eyes remained fixed on the door to the emergency room, her whispered plea continuing, a heartfelt mantra. "Don't leave me, Harry! Please!"
Next Chapter is Will You Be Mine ? .
A/n: I hope You like it. Please ignore grammatical and spelling errors. What are your opinions on Dudley's change of heart ?? Thanks for reading. § Hinny Forever § Please Review!!!
