AN: I do not own Harry Potter.
I wanted to say thank you for reading, (read make it through), the previous four books. I've kept more things closer to Canon than I expected because I didn't want to lose Umbridge as a character. My plan for the next two books hasn't changed, just shifted a little as I expected this one to go a little differently. Oh well.
It's been a bit since my last book. Life happened. Luckily, you get a book with a Premium Grammarly editor. So, yay there. Any mistakes or other typos are 100% my fault. There isn't an Alpha or Beta reader(s) to let me know when something doesn't work.
I'm working a new job and the next few months are the busiest parts of our season. I've got several chapters prepped for posting. A close friend told me to get off my ass and post what I have. Here it is. Good luck, and have a wonderful day.
As always, I read all of your comments, reviews, and suggestions. The more critical, the better.
Chapter 1: St. Mungo's Hospital for Magical Maladies and Injuries
Pristine white stucco walls encased an antiquated atrium filled with rickety wooden chairs and outdated magazines. Six evenly spaced marble fireplaces stood prominent in the reception area of St. Mungo's Hospital for Magical Maladies and Injuries. Witches, wizards, children, and a few dazed Muggles sat waiting their turn to see a mediwizard or Healer. A stately older witch wearing a bright pink night-robe thumbed through a tattered booklet on Tickling Charms for Children as her skin changed colors. Across from her, a young man with thick dark hair gazed at his hand, shrinking and growing rapidly.
Mediwitches and mediwizards in lime green robes flitted through the room, scratching notes on a parchment that hovered before them. They would stop next to someone and ask them questions before waving their wand a few times. Once satisfied, the healer would jot down their findings and move to another patient. At the entrance of the room, a Welcome Witch greeted new arrivals in a surly tone. One little girl with pigtails and a missing nose cried when the spiky-haired receptionist said she looked better without a nose.
Harry Potter strode through reception wearing his winter cloak. They hoped it would help hide his missing right arm. Madam Poppy Pomfrey led the way past the Welcome Witch without glancing at the couple, trying to comfort their child. Healer Light, her long blonde-white hair fanning out behind her, stood on Harry's right as she looked around with a critical eye. Sirius Black grumbled and limped behind the others, having come out of the Floo Network last.
The Hogwarts Healer led her group through a double door at the back of the entrance room and into a wide corridor. Portraits of witches and wizards wearing white, lime green, and black robes looked down from their frames and shouted their diagnoses.
"Dragon Pox!" a severe-looking witch in a frumpled white gown called to a pair of mediwizards escorting a gangly red-headed youth toward a corridor marked Artefact Accidents.
"For the last time, it isn't Dragon Pox, Healer Wimble," one of the healers sighed as they helped direct the stumbling boy around Harry's age. He'd never seen him before at Hogwarts.
Harry turned left with the others. St. Mungo buzzed with activity. Halfway to the next turning, a wide desk blocked half the corridor. Two competent-looking staff stood with their wands out as they inspected everyone who passed their checkpoint. The witch and wizard eyed Harry and Sirius while being courteous to Madam Pomfrey and Healer Light. "Both of them are my charges," Madam Pomfrey announced.
"Names?" the dark-haired witch asked in a gravelly voice. Harry almost did a double-take, thinking it was the wizard who spoke.
"Misters Harry Potter and Misters Sirius Black," Healer Light answered calmly.
The security staff froze as they turned in unison to look at Harry. "Malady?" the light-haired wizard asked carefully.
"Injury," Madam Pomfrey answered in a firm tone.
"Noted," the witch grumbled as she scratched something down with her pen. "Fourth Floor?" she asked.
"Auror Wing," Healer Light answered with a bright smile. The wizard shifted as he glanced at his partner.
"Noted. Continue."
Harry walked behind Madam Pomfrey, mulling over what he'd heard. He wondered if he would be using Mad-eye Moody's reserved room again. That sparked another question. How did Moody have a reserved space on the Auror Wing? He wasn't an Auror anymore. "An Orderly would normally search you," Healer Light whispered as they turned left down a narrower corridor. Harry could see the stairs at the end. As they passed a door that read Spare Brooms, Madam Pomfrey stopped and turned to look at him and Sirius.
"St. Mungo is an entity outside the Ministry. As such, we provide services for a fee. I am… contracted, is the best term here… to Hogwarts and Albus Dumbledore. Because of that, I have some sway within these walls as a Master Healer. One must be, to care for our future generations. Average mediwitches and mediwizards can assist and even diagnose injuries for anyone underage, however, only Healers and Master Healers can fix an injury or cure a malady. I'm telling you this because my reputation as a Master Healer is on the line while you are my charge. Do you understand what I'm trying to say, Mister Potter?"
Harry nodded. That seemed enough because Madam Pomfrey turned and went up the stairs. After four flights of stairs and two more security checkpoints, Harry found himself on a familiar corridor. A marble fireplace with green fire awaited a potential arrival at one end of the hallway. Three wizards stood nearby the fireplace while one lounged behind a chestnut desk reading a magazine. The three wizards on guard looked over Madam Pomfrey's group before returning to the fireplace.
"A level two emergency," Healer Light whispered to Madam Pomfrey.
"Yes, I fear much is happening within the Ministry recently."
Sirius grunted behind Harry. When he looked back, his godfather rolled his eyes and motioned with his chin to follow the two healers. They led Harry to the room he expected. Alastor Moody's spare white peg leg sat in the corner of a single windowed room. A white bed with a side table sat against the far wall, and an oversized brown chair leaned against the window. The small door to the on-suite bathroom was right by the entrance.
"Let's get you settled in for a bit," Madam Pomfrey instructed as she waved her hand toward the bed.
Harry eyed her but complied. He didn't relish the idea of laying in bed for a month before they could completely regrow his arm. "Oh, don't give us that look," Healer Light smiled, her bright blue eyes flashing. "We'll keep you plenty busy, isn't that right Poppy?"
Madam Pomfrey stopped bustling in her white robes and looked up at Harry. "Quite," she said in the same tone she'd used with the witch on the ground floor.
Harry kicked off his trainers and sat on the bed. Something didn't feel right within himself. He couldn't place what it was. It was like something was missing. When he looked up, Madam Pomfrey was studying him closely. "Why do I feel… off?" he asked carefully, trying to find the right word to express his feelings.
"You are currently under the effects of a strong Cheering Charm. The fact that you aren't giddy with laughter tells me, and Healer Light, just how seriously the events of last night have affected your mental health."
"Ah," he managed to get out. What else could he say?
"Ah," Madam Pomfrey agreed as she sat down on the edge of the bed. She looked older, sadder than he'd ever seen her before. "Harry, you've gone through a very traumatic experience. Over the next few days… maybe weeks, you will, in all likelihood, experience extreme mood swings. You are young and have lived through something that could very well have killed you. I'm not talking about the events within the graveyard you described. The magical effort of moving yourself twice, in a short period, across great distances is… remarkable and dangerous to your magic."
Harry frowned. In one corner of his mind, he felt like crying, and in another, he felt like screaming. Overlaying the extreme emotions was a blanket that reminded him of the Imperious Curse's emptiness. "The spell you used wasn't the Cheering Charm," he said quietly.
"No, it wasn't," Healer Light said gently. "You are remarkable," she said with a soft smile.
Sirius tensed near the window, and Harry saw his wand arm move slightly. Madam Pomfrey didn't look at his godfather as she used both hands to straighten out her robes. "Remarkable indeed," she agreed aloud as she looked him in the eyes. "The Imperius Curse was not the first iteration of the Unforgivable Curse. It wasn't even the second. What makes that particular curse unforgivable is that it cannot be blocked by conventional magic. You see, the charm I used on you… diffuses your foremost thoughts and emotions. They become slippery and mailable. One of several predecessors to the Imperius Curse. I do not control your thoughts; just muddle them a bit. It isn't as strong as a Memory Charm… in some ways. What do you feel you should be doing right now?"
"Crying," Harry answered immediately. He felt foolish as soon as the words came out of his mouth.
"I would too. I want to," Healer Light said as her smile wavered. "What… you saw will change everything."
"I want to say that I'm proud of you," Sirius said in the brief silence. Everyone looked at him. "Harry, you have every right to want to cry. You have every right to want to rage, or scream, or pull your hair out. You also have every right to yell at the top of your lungs. You survived what grown, experienced witches and wizards have failed to do time and time again. You survived a duel with Voldemort."
The two healers shivered while Harry digested what his godfather said. "I did," he breathed out. As he said it, some of the torrent of feelings in the back of his mind settled.
"You did. You won the duel, survived a deadly trap, and escaped by your own power. All that, and you hadn't even finished your fourth year of schooling. You bested the greatest of the three schools that Europe had to offer through your hard work. I couldn't be prouder. Your parents couldn't have been prouder."
As Sirius mentioned Lilly and James Potter, tears welled up in Harry's eyes. He couldn't help it. Once the tears started, they wouldn't stop. Warm arms wrapped around his shoulders as whatever spell Madam Pomfrey cast on him frayed and snapped. He could feel the torrent of jumbled emotion pouring out of him. It took him far longer than he wanted to force the tide of emotion down. He could still see the look of anger, the raw animal fury, on his mother's shade as she charged her killer.
"There is no shame in crying," Healer Light said softly as she placed a cup in Harry's hand. He looked down at the water and reactively took a sip of the cool water. "In time, the intense emotions will pass… or reduce to a dull roar at least."
"To help keep your mind focused, as I know you thrive in a structured environment," Madam Pomfrey said softly, "I will work with you on your healing skill. I must say, what you were able to manage as you were dying from blood loss and going into shock, was simply wonderful. I would ask that you not be in such a precarious position again… but, unfortunately, you might not always have that luxury."
Harry fought back a laugh. The laugh wouldn't stop until Healer Light wrapped him on the top of his head with a sharp knuckle. "It isn't nice to laugh at your mentor, dear," she scolded. "For my part, I will be grilling you about a rather dangerous Wiggenweld Potion you've been experimenting with."
"Oi! It works, doesn't it?" Harry protested as he rubbed the top of his head with his left hand. He'd instinctively moved his right arm before realizing it wasn't there anymore. Everyone in the room politely ignored his awkward movements.
"It works because you got lucky. If I'm right, you essentially doubled… maybe tippled the concentration."
"I doubled it, but also counterbalanced the natural healing rate with a mild poison to reduce how much would be introduced into the body. A little more Salamander Blood and Billywing sting slime helps prevent the drinker's system from reaching dangerous levels. The Borage helps keep the potion fresh in someone's stomach, and the crushed Chizpurfle Carapace acts as a slow-releasing agent. Also, by using counter-rotation stirring at the right times, I can control the concentration of each ingredient."
"Those… are advanced techniques," Healer Light mused as she stared at the wall. Harry felt like he could see her mind mulling over his changes. "What you described would make an unstable potion. What else did you add?" she questioned.
Harry blinked. Had she recreated the potion in her mind so quickly? "Uh… I added a few other things to prevent a strong reaction between the Wiggentree bark, the Borage, and the Lionfish spines. The first reaction," he started to explain but was cut off.
"Reduced your cauldron to a fiery scrap heap. What is it with you and fire? You must have used something neutral, like Horned slug extract or Morning dew."
"Uh… no… just honey," Harry muttered. He hadn't thought of Horned slug extract. It might be a good thing to test.
"Honey? Well… that would work… I suppose," Healer Light mused.
"Children," Madam Pomfrey said with exaggerated emphasis. "You'll have plenty of time to discuss the finer details of Potioneering in the coming days. However, Harry, I want you to take a Sleeping Draught. Your earlier reaction indicates that your mind needs as much rest as your body. Don't give me that look. You and Sirius can talk all summer. In fact, I need to speak with your godfather in the next room. I want to get a better look at his leg."
Harry's protest died on his lips. He knew when Madam Pomfrey set her mind to something, not much got, or could get, in her way. The only good thing he could see about waiting to talk to Sirius was that she'd take a proper look at his leg. Healer Light was eyeing his godfather with a professional eye as well. "Alright."
The augmented dreamless sleep only helped for a short time. Harry awoke to noise outside his room at some point during the night. A bolt of fear shot through him before he realized he still clutched his wand in a death grip. The tide of emotions in his thoughts seemed to want to wash him away, but he fought to focus. He needed to be strong. The voices moved off, and Harry felt his shoulders relax. His breathing came in ragged gasps as he tried to get his breathing under control.
There was no light from the window, but Harry could see from two dim lamps on the wall. He thought it might be after dark, but with magic involved, the window could just as well be fake. Harry laid his head back against the pillow and closed his eyes. He was left with his dark thoughts for hours before someone came in to check on him.
"Harry," Sirius greeted in a low voice. "How are you feeling?"
Sliding his wand under the covers, Harry tried to smile for his godfather. He certainly wasn't feeling great, but he wouldn't say anything. "The potion helped me sleep."
Sirius seemed to see through Harry's words as he slid into the brown chair. "It was a dumb question," he tried with a ghost of a smile. "Before the healers come back… thank you... for Peter."
Harry felt a laugh escape his lips. "I had no idea who it was, and I just wanted to get away."
Sirius shook his head. "All the same, he got what he deserved. I've been thinking… about what we need to do. It might," he said as the door opened.
"Good morning, you two," Healer Light greeted with a smile. Harry nodded to the Healer, his mind still on whatever Sirius wanted to talk about. "You seemed to have slept well and didn't wander last night."
"This is a hospital," Harry dryly answered. "I got the feeling this ward was fairly restricted."
"It is," Healer Light agreed as she waved her wand. Food appeared on a tray on the side table. "The attending house elf's name is Yorla. She will help with whatever you need while you stay with us. You woke up around three in the morning and used the restroom once."
Harry narrowed his eyes at her. He wasn't aware that someone would monitor him the entire time. "I wasn't sure what time it was," he said when it became clear she expected some sort of answer.
"I also know that you practiced a little magic… something Madam Pomfrey expressly forbid." Sirius looked at Harry with a raised eyebrow.
"It seemed prudent to ward the room and place Softening Charms on this rather stiff mattress."
"Prudent… and potentially harmful," the Healer grumbled. "Please refrain from using magic for at least a week, Harry. While you are certainly undergoing puberty, your magical center is still in flux. The Apparition has seriously endangered your magical stability. Let it heal and rest," she urged.
Harry could hear the emphasis in her words, but he felt fine. "I'll be more careful in the future."
"At a minimum, one week," Healer Light reiterated. "Now, Madam Pomfrey has some things for you to work on. It will help keep your mind occupied on other things. Do you need anything else before I go back to my duties?"
"No, I'm good, thanks," Harry answered dryly.
Sirius shot him a grin. "I'll make sure he does whatever you two have for him," he said, but Harry knew he was joking. Sirius seemed to be in a rebellious mood.
"See that you do, Mr. Black."
Healer Light left three things. One was an old leather-bound book that Harry knew reasonably well. It covered the basic physiology of witches and wizards. She also left a quill and ink. Almost as an afterthought, she added a set of parchments on claiming ownership of a modified potion. Healer Light didn't need to explain.
"Are you going to register the potion?" Sirius asked as Harry looked over the official document.
"Probably not… they don't have my notes, just one or two vials of my potion."
"At some point, you'll need to contribute to St. Mungo if you accept her apprenticeship. If I remember correctly, you need at least seven things to contribute to graduating from apprentice to certified. Unless things have changed," Sirius amended after a moment. "A lot has changed."
"Do you think I should take it?"
Sirius sat back in the chair and ran his fingers through his hair. "You… should… have died last night from your wounds." It seemed like he had to force the words out. "Somehow, you managed to pull yourself back from the brink by skill, determination, and yes… some amount of luck. You have a remarkable talent and skill for magic. I know that face. Yes, you work hard, but Harry… there is an innate talent in all of us for certain things. Yours may be Healing and Potioneering. It could just as well be Charms and Transfiguration. What you accomplished to finish the last task was nothing less than brilliant. I'm not saying that because you're my godson or even because you're Lilly and James Potter's son, but because you are you. An individual who has devoted himself to learning magic. It shows, Harry. Everyone wants to be great or powerful, but the ones who put the time and effort into perfecting their skills are the ones that will truly become masters."
Harry felt like his godfather was praising him too much, but he couldn't help but feel some satisfaction and vindication for all the work he'd put in. "Thank you," he managed to say.
Sirius waved his hand dismissively. "I said it because it's true. We need to have that talk, however," he said slowly. "What do you want for yourself? What do you see yourself doing once you're of age?"
Harry sat back and tried to pick up the book with his right arm. He attempted to play it off as if he were simply stretching his shoulder. "Voldemort," he sighed when seconds stretched out to minutes without Sirius speaking.
"He will never give up. He's had it out for you since you were born."
"Could… we simply go somewhere else? Somewhere outside his influence?"
"There are ways to remain hidden… for a time… the Fidelius Charm, for one. As we know, it has its faults and is challenging to cast, even for someone like Dumbledore. There are also more mundane ways to remain hidden… but that's the thing. Remain hidden. There are too many ways to track someone down anywhere in the world. Magic doesn't care if you're as pure as a Unicorn or as dark as they come."
Harry closed his eyes. He could see the graveyard and the thirty-odd Death Eaters swarming around their dark Master. "Can we destroy him?"
Sirius was quiet for a very long time. "You did… once."
"By luck… my mother's sacrifice. A protection Voldemort stole."
"Connections are a two-way Floo," Sirius muttered as he stared at the far wall. "I heard what Hamilton did to you at Hogwarts… from his lips."
Harry frowned. "What did he do? Other than, you know… help get me nearly killed. I assume it was he who tampered with the Triwizard Cup? I haven't really given it much thought. Voldemort wasn't forthcoming on his entire plot, just most of it in a broad sense."
Sirius took a deep breath. "It was all rigged from the start. Fudge has hung the entire thing on Ludo and Davies' head, but he took the Galleons to put Starc and Dupont in the Tournament. Amos Diggory is... was in Fudge's camp, and Cedric was already fast-tracked to be an Auror once he graduated. Someone double-crossed Fudge and put your name in the Goblet. Then Dumbledore put the restrictions on an already tampered powerful artefact. The actual drawing happened a week before. With the new contract in place, Diggory, Fleur, and Krum became the Champions under Tournament Rules. Six contenders. I don't think Dumbledore knew what happened."
They sat in silence for a moment. Sirius shook his head and leaned back in his chair. "From there, Ludo did his usual skulduggery. He played the odds and raked in the Galleons while subtlely... and not so subtlely... he used his connections to make things easier or harder. The head-hunter in the lake was there simply there to spice things up. At least, that's what he thought. Davies aimed that attack at your competition. However, now we know Barty Crouch and Voldemort were behind paying off Ludo's debts and Audrey's abduction. The ultimate goal succeeded, and little can be traced back to Barty Crouch."
Harry took a deep breath. "Audrey is Davies' daughter?" he asked softly.
"Yes... she hasn't been found yet."
He couldn't help but feel like everything was working against him. Audrey had likely been at the graveyard with Crouch Junior. A sudden, terrible thought gripped him as he looked at his godfather. "Crouch Junior was not caught and arrested, was he?" he asked, already knowing the answer.
"No… Barty Crouch Senior, Head of the Department of Magical Co-operation, is free. Vouched and verified by Fudge and two Healers from St. Mungo. Dumbledore has lost some political power."
"Couldn't someone just… I don't know… use Revelio to show everyone who Crouch is? That he killed his father and replaced him… somehow. How could someone even do that?" Harry wondered aloud.
"Barty Crouch Junior is his father's son. Moody thinks a combination of dark potions, rituals, and possibly a strong Aging Potion helped secure the ruse."
"Wouldn't Crouch have traces of all that on him? I mean, this is the Dark Arts we're talking about."
"Yes… and the Healers commented on that. However, Crouch and Voldemort were careful to lay layer upon layer of evidence. A few… questionable healers saw Crouch while he was out of the public eye, and all of them have testified that Barty Crouch Senior overcame a terrible curse that has left lasting damage. Arthur's office provided evidence that the artifact in question was not what Crouch claimed, but Fudge overruled that. I'm afraid Arthur is in a bit of a tight spot at the moment."
It was as Harry feared. The corruption within the Ministry allowed a Death Eater to be in one of the highest positions. It wasn't like they cared, not with Lucius Malfoy acting as an adviser to Fudge. All Voldemort would need is to get rid of Fudge, and he has complete control over the country. "Then… is it over?" he whispered.
"No. There are those who don't buy what's going on. While they don't see a Death Eater, they do see a usurper."
Harry frowned. "What do you mean?"
Sirius rubbed his knee as he shifted in the chair. "Look at it from another perspective. A Senior Staff Member goes away for an unknown injury that he won't let St. Mungos treat. He contacts multiple people while supposedly close to death. The bit about the Auror passing Crouch information has already come out. I'm sure the Daily Prophet will hear about Bagman and Davies soon enough. With Fudge sacking Bagman, it will create enough waves that someone will start asking questions. All of this, and Crouch is now actively speaking out against Fudge's policies. Policies, I might add, that he helped push while he was doing his disappearing act."
Harry scowled as he tried to see it how Sirius described it. "Doesn't that just make him more suspicious?" he asked. Why would the Ministry, especially Fudge, protect someone working against him?
"Yes, and it's why the Wizengamot gave Dumbledore the benefit of the doubt. Unfortunately, they held the inquiry in a closed session, and only a select few people knew the details. Crouch hadn't started speaking out against Fudge yet. This all happened within the last six to eight hours."
Harry tried to track the time he'd lost in the Hospital Wing and St. Mungo. He sat in silence as he tried to work things out. "So… let me get this straight. Fudge works hard to clear Crouch of all charges. He does, and Crouch gets off, hurting Dumbledore and Arthur's positions within the Ministry. A win for Fudge. Then, after all that, Crouch, or really Crouch Junior, betrays him by saying all the policies they'd been working on for the last several months are detrimental to the Ministry? I'm guessing Fudge can't undo whatever he did to clear Crouch?" he asked slowly.
"That's the way of things now," Sirius sighed. "No, once the Wizengamot has cleared someone, all talk of previous charges is dropped. It prevents changes of power from revisiting old cases and wasting everyone's time. Well… there have been exceptions. Right now, none of that matters. You didn't answer my question. What do you see yourself doing after you graduate?"
Harry lay back against his pillow, staring at the white ceiling. "I have no idea. Maybe do something with potions. I like making them. I… I just know no matter what I do, he will come after me."
"I wrote to a few schools. Castelobruxo, the one your tutor Seitaro Ogata is teaching at, they can't take you. I won't go into detail, but needless to say, they aren't exactly welcoming of outsiders at the moment. Ilvermorny is still an option… but some recent complications have made me hesitant. I'll get to that in a moment. Durmstrang is out, as I said before. Voldemort would walk into the place and take you without a single person raising their wand in your defense. Mahoutokoro is out. Sadly, you can't attend Uagadou. That leaves Hogwarts or Beauxbatons."
Harry took a deep breath. "Beauxbatons will be a no. Madame Maxime was not… complimentary about me when Dumbledore let me see a memory involving Crouch Senior, who… was probably Crouch Junior at that point. Maybe it was a trial run or something to see if Barty could pass for his father in an official setting," he mused aloud.
"Wasn't complimentary? When you faced down a dragon and got away without a scratch. Bah," Sirius sneered. "She never answered my letters, but I hoped she was busy. That… well, the last two options are to drop out of Hogwarts or return. Harry… when you answer my next question, I need you to look me in the eyes." He waited for Harry to lock eyes with him before taking a deep breath. "If you drop out and learn magic with Remus and me… then it will close many doors for you in the future. Within the eyes of the Wizarding Community, you will not be seen as an accredited trained wizard. You'll never have a place on the Wizengamot or have Ministry-funded opportunities. The Ministry has its hand in every part of the economy. That includes opening a potion-making shop. You would need funding, which you have, and credentials.
There are ways to get the proper credentials, like going to another country to take your exams. However, it won't be the same if you continue to live in Britain. The Wizarding World is larger than you might realize. It is also relatively small. Many people know others, and connections are paramount to a successful career in anything you do."
Harry breathed out. "The O.W.L.s," he sighed.
"Yes. They are a basic benchmark showing the aptitude of witches and wizards. With only two years to go before graduating after the O.W.L.s, it isn't a lot of time in the grand scheme of things. Dropping out before completing your fifth year is… a drastic option. However… you are now an adult in the eyes of the British Ministry of Magic. I know what I want for you. I know what you can learn and do, if properly guided, outside the walls of Hogwarts… but…" his godfather said slowly before trailing off.
"You want me to go back."
"Yes… and no. I don't want you to be unhappy. I also don't want you to ruin your chances for a future. Wizards can be poor. Without resorting to sealing, Harry, the Ministry controls so much more than you realize. It has to, in a way. Regulations upon regulations to protect and prosper a hidden group of witches and wizards with the power to change the very fabric of reality. If I follow through with my plan… if you come with me and Remus… you could live a life of poverty once we're gone. Now… that isn't to say what your parents left you in the way of Galleons could sustain you for your lifetime, maybe even your children's lifetime, but… well… do you get what I'm trying to say?"
Harry mulled things over. Before Daphne's lessons on personal finance, Harry wouldn't have cared. However, he'd been taking large chunks of his family's wealth without considering the future. If he continued how he had been, he would be like Lupin or the Weasleys before too long. "I… just don't know if I can return to Hogwarts. It isn't just the students. I'm… getting bored. The tournament gave me something to focus on, I guess… but…" he trailed off, trying to find the words.
"You don't feel challenged enough," Sirius finished with a smile. "I've heard that before," he said as his smile faded into a frown. "For the next week, I want you to think hard about what you want for the future. Work on whatever Madam Pomfrey and Healer Light have for you, but keep this conversation at the forefront of your thoughts. It's time you thought about the future."
"You said I was an adult in the eyes of the Ministry. How?"
Sirius grimaced and ran a hand through his hair. "The Tournament. To compete, you had to be an adult. It was a requirement. Bagman bypassed that hard rule by finding a loophole. Fudge tried to sentence you as an adult for the cheating thing. To do that, he had to put through special requests to ignore your underage status. It went through but was never rescinded after the trial. Ludo simply finalized the paperwork. You still have the Trace, but it can't be tracked if I understand it correctly."
Harry blinked. "Then… Am I an adult? I can use magic whenever I want?"
Sirius snorted. "Harry, you're remarkably mature for your age, but you aren't an adult. For one, your magic is still in flux. You can't Apparate safely. Doing so alone again before you're seventeen could very well kill you. Madam Pomfrey was clear on that. In my eyes, you are in charge of your life. You've fought an adult wizard's battle for your life. I know what I want for you, but frankly, I'm your friend and godfather. I'll support whatever decision you make and do everything I can to make it happen."
"Even if I choose to leave Hogwarts?" Harry asked carefully.
"Yes."
"Is there another reason you'd like me to stay or go?"
Sirius took some time to answer as he stared at the far wall. "Dumbledore," he said softly. "I… have reservations about him. He is… probably the only wizard alive Voldemort fears. Truly fears. He… also is playing a dangerous game to which I can't see the end. Dumbledore is a genius, the best of all of us, regarding magic. However… I have reservations about him as a man."
"You don't want me near him?"
Sirius snorted and shook his head as if trying to shake water out of his hair. "I don't know, Harry." He looked up and stared into Harry's eyes as he spoke. "I don't care about the people of this country. I don't care about the Ministry. I care about my friends. I care about you. I want you to be safe. Dumbledore hasn't kept you nearly as safe as I would have liked or feel I could have done in his place. That is a simple fact. I don't know what he sees that I can't and that… Harry, is what worries me."
That was a lot for Harry to take in. He took a deep breath. "As of right now, I just want away from Hogwarts. Get my arm back, and work on magic. If… if I'm an adult now. I want to work on dueling. He will come for me."
"Remus and I promise to work with you on whatever you want. Ah… that reminds me. Someone needs to speak with you in the next few days."
Harry frowned, wondering who it could be. When Sirius looked more uncomfortable, he felt he might know it was. "Madam Bones?"
"I'm not sure how you feel about her. I… we… well, I don't know what to make of us, but she got word from Moody. Amelia contacted me a little while ago, asking to speak with you. She said you might know why."
Harry remembered their conversation in the Chamber of Reception. "She wants to hear the story from me," he sighed.
"I won't make you relive what happened again," Sirius quickly said. "Even if she's… whatever we are. If you don't want to speak about it, then I'll simply tell her no."
Harry shook his head slowly. "No, I should be okay enough to tell her what I saw," he lied.
"Now, you're supposed to be studying, but how about a game of Exploding Snap instead?" Sirius grinned as he drew a deck from inside his robes. "You need something to keep your mind off things."
Harry smiled. "One or two games," he said as he sat up in bed.
Madam Pomfrey and Healer Light only let Sirius distract Harry for a little while before they turned up with similar disapproving expressions. The games of Exploding Snap had drawn the attention of others on the Auror Wing. Harry should have considered silencing the loud cracks, but he wasn't thinking about secrecy. Acting properly chastised, Sirius shot Harry a wink before escaping the wrath of the two healers.
"Now, are you ready to study?" Madam Pomfrey sighed as she took a seat beside him. Her wand moved back and forth over his leg. Harry didn't think she was waiting for his answer as her eyes took on a far-away look.
-X-X-X-X-
Harry's friends weren't able to see him until the following week. Because of where he was, he was only allowed visitors when the Ministry didn't have an emergency locking down the ward. While Harry hadn't heard anything outside his room, he had caught Healer Light looking tired and hurried during their short Potioneering conversations. Sirius didn't know much about whatever was going on either, as Madam Pomfrey was tight-lipped about anything unrelated to Harry's recovery.
The Master Healer quizzed Harry on precisely what he'd done, or tried to do, in the Shrieking Shack to save his life. He wasn't able to recall much. His memories were jumbled after the second Apparition. She brought out old tomes and long parchments the height of Sirius to show him the various networks of muscles, veins, and nervous systems within a witch and wizard's body. She made him copy the Cardiovascular and Muscular Systems in a human leg to show him how important it was to know the exact details involved in healing someone. It was agonizingly slow going as Harry had to use his non-dominant hand. He was glad they'd managed to reattach his finger without issue.
"I know this is frustrating, but if anything, using your left hand is a good thing. It's making you stop and slow down. If you copied this with your right hand, you wouldn't have to think about the exact lines and shapes that make up your leg in this diagram. I should make every new healer do this," Madam Pomfrey mused as she looked over his work.
"Yes, but why am I doing this? I can tell you each of the muscle groups in my leg," Harry sighed.
"Knowing them isn't enough," she patiently said as she shifted on her chair. "In all magic, especially Healing, a witch or wizard needs to understand what they are making their magic do. The more you understand about, say, the Stunning Spell, the stronger the effect. That goes for all magic, even the simplest, like the Unlocking Charm. Alohomora isn't just about unlocking a simple lock, which it can easily do; it's about understanding how to unlock something. If you understood how to direct your magic, you could use the Unlocking Charm to open something as complex as a Gringotts Bank Vault Door. The same could be said about healing and the complex network of locks and gates within the body."
Harry mulled over what she'd told him. He knew, from Master Ogata, that the more a wizard understood about a subject, the more control they could have over it. Using wandless magic was the same thing. He had to understand exactly what he wanted his magic to do, or it wouldn't work or backfire on him completely. "I understand," he said eventually. Knowing why he was doing something didn't make the process of learning any easier or faster.
"Now, let's look at where your injuries were," Madam Pomfrey said as she used her wand to display a leg in mid-air. Everything she and Harry had been working on glowed in a soft red light. With another wave of her wand, parts of the leg started to go missing. "Now, your task is to redraw everything missing from memory."
Harry looked at her. "I know you think I'm a genius, but that's a lot to have memorized," he snorted.
"You will get things wrong, but what I want to see is improvement each time we do this. At various points during your lessons with me, I'll go back and have you review things we've gone over. By the end of the summer, I would be surprised if you didn't dream of drawing the human body."
Harry opened his mouth to ask how that would help him heal someone but closed it again. She'd already answered that question. He eyed the floating leg and wanted to sigh. Healing wasn't what he wanted to learn at the moment. He wanted to work on dueling and master more magic to survive. However, since he couldn't do magic, he stuffed his disappointment and frustration down and set to the task before him.
That night, he dreamed of the graveyard. He walked between the rows of headstones, a soft green glow rising from the ground in a mist. Dark, hooded shapes of different sizes moved between the rows. Harry knew they were chanting something, but it was just out of hearing. He took a deep breath and took a step forward. In a blink, he was in the middle of a row of headstones. Tom Riddle Senior's gravestone stood before him. When he turned around, Voldemort stood opposite, wand raised. Harry tried to move his arms and raise his wand to protect himself but couldn't move or speak. The voices from the robed figures around him increased in volume. He couldn't distinguish what they were chanting. The single garbled word from dozens of throats threatened to deafen him. As the chant rose, so did the green mist until it exploded in a blinding, lurid green light.
Harry sat up abruptly, gasping for air. His hand shook as he frantically searched his bedding for his wand. Unbidden, the handle of his holly and phoenix feather wand flew into his hand from the floor where it had dropped. He raised it high as light from the tip of his wand pushed away the darkness. Harry was alone in his room, but his heart wouldn't stop pounding.
He tried to go back to sleep but couldn't. His mind kept going over what he'd seen in his dream and the memories from that terrible night. Getting to the bathroom and back was not any easier. He still couldn't put any weight on his injured leg. That didn't stop him. When he returned to bed, he pulled out the letter he'd been trying not to think about all day.