Harry Wayne and the Batman of Hogwarts

Chapter 39- A Time to Heal

Harry Wayne, Waylon Diggory, and Hermione Kyle lay in separate beds in the quiet infirmary, their injuries from the harrowing maze ordeal being tended to. Madam Pomfrey moved efficiently between them, her demeanor brisk yet concerned, while Madam Hooch stood by Harry's bedside, determined to offer encouragement.

"Don't you worry, Harry," Hooch said with a confident smile. "We'll get you back on your broomstick in no time. That maze will be gone, and we'll have Quidditch matches roaring again before you know it."

Pomfrey, not one for sugarcoating, shot Hooch a disapproving glance. "It's going to be a long while before Harry will be fit for Quidditch," she countered firmly.

Hooch frowned and crossed her arms. "What about removing the damaged bone and using a regrowth spell? Surely we can fix him faster than that."

Pomfrey sighed, her tone laced with exasperation. "Do you have any idea how agonizing it would be for Harry to endure the regrowth of an entire spine? The pain would be unbearable!"

"That's not for you to decide, is it?" Hooch shot back, the tension between the two healers growing.

Their bickering was interrupted by Harry himself. Weak but resolute, he lifted his head slightly. "I want to try healing on my own," he said, his voice cutting through the argument. "No magic."

Both women fell silent, though Hooch pursed her lips in disapproval. Finally, she nodded. "It's your choice, Harry. But if the pain becomes too much, you must let us know."

Harry responded with a simple nod. He understood that choosing the path of least resistance wouldn't adequately ready him for what lay ahead. His path to victory was paved with suffering.

Nearby, Hermione pushed aside her own discomfort, slipping out of her bed to stand by Harry. Her eyes were soft with admiration for his determination. She gently rested a hand on his arm.

Harry's gaze fell on the glowing necklace she wore, and recognition dawned in his tired eyes. "You saved me," he said softly, a faint smile appearing on his lips.

Hermione shook her head, her voice tinged with emotion. "Actually, it was your mother who saved you. These pearls... they were hers. She wore them the night she—" Hermione hesitated, unwilling to finish the thought.

Harry nodded, understanding her unspoken words. "The magical pearl may have brought me back," he said, his tone sincere. "But you were the one who saved me."

Her cheeks flushed slightly as she reached for his hand, clasping it gently in hers. The moment was tender and quiet, filled with unspoken gratitude and connection.

The stillness was broken as Harvey Weasley stirred in the chair between their beds. He blinked blearily at the sight before him, his eyes landing on their intertwined hands. "Did I miss something?" he asked, his voice laced with curiosity and a touch of surprise.

Harry, realizing how the moment might appear, quickly pulled his hand away, his cheeks reddening. He knew how much Harvey cared for Hermione, and the last thing he wanted was to cause his friend any more pain—especially after the loss of Denton. Hermione stepped back, her expression unreadable, as Harvey's gaze lingered on them both.

The room returned to a hushed calm, each of them lost in their own thoughts. Despite the uncertainty of what lay ahead, there was a quiet understanding between them: whatever happened next, they would face it together.

Harry glanced over at Waylon Diggory's still form lying in the next bed. His animagus crocodile shape remained unchanged, and the sight filled Harry with unease. "Why hasn't he transformed back?" Harry asked, his voice tinged with worry.

Madam Pomfrey, standing nearby, lowered her head and let out a deep sigh. "The only reason he's still alive is because he's in his animagus form," she explained solemnly. "If he transforms back, his injuries will kill him. We're keeping him sedated, and I've devised a potion with Professor Crane's help. From this day forward, he can never change back."

Harry's jaw dropped in shock. He struggled to process the weight of her words. "He can never go back?" he repeated, his voice barely above a whisper. The thought of Waylon being trapped in his crocodile form forever was devastating. Harry could already imagine how much Waylon would hate losing his humanity.

Before Harry could dwell on it further, the sound of footsteps broke the tension in the room. Dumbledore entered, his usual serene demeanor masking the gravity of the situation. He surveyed the trio, lingering on Harry for a moment.

"I came to check on you," Dumbledore said gently, his blue eyes glimmering with a mix of concern and understanding. "I also wanted to let you know that I am aware of Ra's al Ghul's resurrection."

The words sent a chill through the room. Hermione gasped softly, and even Madam Pomfrey stiffened at the mention of the name.

"The Order of the Owls has decided that, for now, we must keep this information under wraps," Dumbledore continued. "We don't want to cause unnecessary panic."

Harry frowned deeply, his hands gripping the edge of the bed. "That's a mistake," he said, his voice firm. "The students need to start learning defense spells immediately. We have to prepare them for Ra's's return."

Dumbledore regarded Harry thoughtfully, his expression unchanging. "If I were to act on your suggestion, Harry, I would be forced to step down as headmaster. The Ministry will not permit open acknowledgment of Ra's al Ghul's threat without proof."

The room fell into an uneasy silence. Dumbledore's words hung heavy in the air, and everyone seemed to await Harry's response.

Finally, after a moment of contemplation, Harry spoke. "I want to go back to Privet Drive to heal."

Dumbledore's gaze softened, and he nodded, understanding the unspoken meaning behind Harry's words. The boy who had been thrust into so many battles needed time to recover—not just his body, but his spirit as well. Harry turned his head, avoiding the concerned looks from those around him, as the weight of the coming challenges pressed heavily on his shoulders.

Dumbledore's gentle voice cut through the heavy atmosphere. "Someone else is here to see you, Harry."

Harry turned his head as the infirmary doors creaked open, revealing Neville Longbottom. A smile immediately spread across Harry's face, and he instinctively tried to sit up, only to wince in pain as it shot through his spine like lightning.

"Calm down there, friend," Neville said, quickly stepping forward. "You don't have to hurt yourself to see me. I'll come to you." He leaned down to give Harry a light hug, careful not to aggravate his injuries.

Neville turned to Hermione and Harvey next, embracing them warmly. "I'm glad to see you've returned," Harvey said with a grin. "You're back just in time to see Harry leave."

Neville glanced at Harry, confusion and concern crossing his face. "Leave? So soon?"

Harry nodded. "Yeah, I'm going back home for a while to recover. I won't be much good here in this condition."

Neville's expression shifted, a shadow of unease flickering across his features. Harry noticed immediately.

"Can you guys give me and Neville the room for a minute?" Harry asked.

Without hesitation, everyone began to shuffle out, one by one. Hermione gave Neville a quick squeeze on the arm as she passed, and Harvey patted his shoulder before leaving. The door closed softly behind them, leaving Harry and Neville alone.

Neville stepped closer, his face serious now. "I've been going through changes, Harry," he said abruptly.

Harry raised an eyebrow, trying to lighten the mood. "Me too, Nev. It's called puberty."

Neville didn't laugh. Instead, his tone grew more somber. "No, seriously." He hesitated, then continued, "Ever since the day you saved me from that madman in the forest, I haven't been the same."

Harry's expression softened, curiosity mingling with concern. "What do you mean, Neville? What kind of changes?"

Neville glanced toward the door, ensuring they were truly alone, before lowering his voice. "I feel... stronger. Like something inside me woke up that day. And sometimes, when I get angry or scared, strange things happen around me. It's like—like I'm losing control."

Harry stared at him, realizing there was more to Neville's story than he'd ever suspected. "Neville," he said slowly, "tell me everything."

Neville took a deep breath, ready to reveal what had been troubling him for so long.

Neville's voice dropped to a near whisper, his eyes fixed on Harry's as if searching for understanding. "I'm different, Harry," he said, his tone heavy with the weight of the confession. "I can't quite explain it, but I feel it. It's something ancient."

Harry frowned, leaning as much as his battered body would allow. "Ancient? What do you mean, Neville?"

Neville ran a hand through his hair, pacing slightly by the side of Harry's bed. "It's like there's something inside me—something old, something powerful. When I'm angry or scared, it's like it's trying to get out. I don't even understand it, but it's... changing me."

Harry's curiosity deepened. "Have you talked to anyone about this? Dumbledore, maybe?"

Neville shook his head quickly. "No. Not yet. I don't even know how to bring it up without sounding crazy. But after everything we've been through, I thought—you'd get it. I mean, you've faced things no one else could understand."

Harry nodded slowly, recalling his own encounters with the extraordinary. "You're not crazy, Neville. After what we just survived, nothing sounds impossible anymore. But if this... whatever it is, is part of you, we need to figure it out. It might not be something bad—it could be something that can help you."

Neville hesitated, then met Harry's gaze. "I'm scared, Harry. Scared of what it means. And scared of what I might become."

Harry reached out, placing a reassuring hand on Neville's arm. "You're not alone in this, Neville. We'll figure it out together. Whatever this is, we'll face it head-on. You're stronger than you think."

Neville nodded, the tension in his shoulders easing slightly. "Thanks, Harry. I just—I needed someone to hear me out. I'm glad it was you."

Harry offered a faint smile, despite the pain he was in. "That's what friends are for. Whatever's happening to you, we'll deal with it. Together."

The two of them sat in silence for a moment, the weight of their conversation settling between them. Both knew this was only the beginning of something far greater, something that would shape not just Neville's destiny, but perhaps the future of their world.

Harry's expression turned serious, and he leaned closer to Neville, his voice dropping to a near whisper. "Neville, I need to ask you for a favor," he began.

Neville straightened, the weight of Harry's tone immediately grabbing his attention. "What is it? I'll do anything, Harry. You saved my life—I owe you big time."

Harry nodded, appreciating Neville's sincerity. "I'm going to be gone for a while, recovering. But while I'm away, I need you to do something important for me." He hesitated for a moment, as if gauging how to proceed, then continued. "You need to keep this a secret. Ra's al Ghul has been resurrected."

Neville's eyes widened in shock, and he instinctively raised his voice. "What?" he exclaimed, then quickly glanced toward the door, lowering his tone. "Ra's al Ghul? But how?"

Harry held up a hand, signaling for calm. "It doesn't matter how. What matters is that he's back, and Dumbledore doesn't want anyone to know. The Order of the Owls is worried about causing a panic."

Neville frowned. "So they're just keeping everyone in the dark? That doesn't seem right, Harry."

"I know," Harry agreed. "But there's more. The students aren't being taught the kind of defense spells they'll need to protect themselves. None of them are strong enough to take on someone like Ra's. But I think they can be, if they're prepared."

Neville's expression hardened, a sense of duty forming in his eyes. "What are you saying, Harry?"

"I'm saying you need to step up," Harry said firmly. "Start teaching the students defense spells in secret. You're a pureblood, and they'll respect you. They'll listen."

Neville blinked, stunned by the suggestion. "You want me to form... a secret group?"

"Exactly," Harry confirmed. "Get Hermione and Harvey involved, too. You'll need help to make this work, and I trust both of them. Form a team, but keep it quiet. No one can know—not even Dumbledore."

Neville hesitated for a moment, then nodded resolutely. "Alright. I'll do it. I don't know how, but I'll figure it out. You can count on me, Harry."

Harry smiled faintly, relief washing over him. "I knew I could. This might be the most important thing you ever do, Neville. Protecting the students, preparing them—that's the key to stopping Ra's."

Neville stood, determination etched on his face. "I won't let you down, Harry. You've done so much for all of us. It's my turn to step up."

"Good," Harry said, his voice firm despite his weakened state. "Start small, but build something strong. The future of Hogwarts might depend on it."

Just as Neville was about to respond, the door to the room creaked open, and Dumbledore entered, his expression calm but unreadable. "I'm sorry to interrupt your conversation," he began, "but I need to introduce you to someone."

Beside Dumbledore stood a tall, imposing figure, a man Harry and Neville had never seen before. His dark robes seemed to blend into the room's shadows, and his sharp gaze scanned the two boys with an air of quiet authority.

Dumbledore extended a hand toward the newcomer. "This is the new Head of the Ministry, Jostanos. After Cornelius Fridge's abrupt and unexplained departure, the Ministry needed someone to take his place. Jostanos will be stationed here at Hogwarts for the time being, keeping a watchful eye on things."

Harry studied the man intently, sensing an aura of power and no-nonsense professionalism. Swallowing hard, he forced himself to speak. "Nice to meet you, Mr. Jostanos. Do you... have a first name?"

The man's lips curled into a faint, almost imperceptible smile as he shook his head. "No," he replied, his voice steady and serious. "Just Jostanos."

The weight of the man's presence made Harry shift uncomfortably in his bed. It was clear Jostanos meant business, though he attempted to lighten the mood. Turning to Harry, he said, "It's nice to finally meet the boy who lived." His sharp gaze then flicked to Neville. "Or perhaps... the boys who lived."

Neville stiffened, his eyes narrowing slightly at the comment. Before either boy could respond, Jostanos turned on his heel and exited the room, his dark robes sweeping behind him.

Harry frowned and turned to Dumbledore. "What did he mean by that?"

Dumbledore hesitated, his usual calm demeanor flickering with the faintest hint of unease. "I'll explain it to you later, Harry," he said gently. "For now, focus on healing. We will have time to discuss it when you're stronger."

Though unsatisfied, Harry nodded, recognizing that pushing for answers now would be futile. He exchanged a concerned glance with Neville, who seemed equally unsettled by the encounter. As the room fell silent once more, the cryptic nature of Jostanos's words lingered heavily in the air. Harry pondered Jostanos's potential direction for the school and the story's future path for that matter. To find out, we'll all need to check what Jostanos has to say in the review section.(hint hint)

To be continued…