Chapter 8 – In the Hospital Wing
Once again, Harry woke up to blinding white. Blinking spots out of his eyes, Harry recognised the painted white stone, rows of beds, and smell of disinfectant belonging to the hospital wing. He tried to sit up, falling back into his pillow as his body protested the motion.
A groan escaped his lips and the matron, Madam Pomfrey, bustled over immediately.
"Good to see you're awake, Mr. Potter," she waved her wand in complicated patterns, and strange symbols floated in the air. She frowned at the signs and gave him a scrutinising glance. "You gave us quite the scare. Your friends have been beside themselves with worry."
Harry imagined Alicia and Hermione's wrath and winced. "When can I go see them?"
Madam Pomfrey hummed to herself. "In a few days perhaps, but now that you are awake, I shall allow them to visit you."
"Thanks."
The nurse inclined her head before retreating to her office. She returned with a tray full of potions. "You're severely malnourished, which is impeding your body's natural healing process. I suggest you drink these nutrition potions," she gestured to the tray. "They will bring you back to acceptable health. While that happens, I will inform your head of house that you are awake, and taking visitors."
Harry tried to sit up once more and bit back a whimper. With the assistance of the matron, he managed to do so successfully. His arms felt like lead as he reached for a vial, but he waved off the matron's aid regardless. She gave him a disapproving look before going back to her office.
He took another cursory scan of the room. His bed was the only one occupied. Looking to his right, he gaped at the verifiable mountain of sweets on a neighbouring bed. He reached for a chocolate frog before a sharp pain shot up his arm. He fell back into the bed lamely.
Harry picked up the first vial, gritting his teeth as the weight sent pain shooting up his arm. He uncorked it and brought it to his lips. He shuddered at the foul smell, tipping his head back and downing the potion in one go. He gagged as the thick fluid went down his throat. The potion tasted like wet socks, but the vile taste helped clear his mind. He looked at the remaining vials. Those could wait. He wasn't in a rush, anyway.
He settled back in bed and closed his eyes. With nothing better to do, Harry slipped into the Nothing. He watched the new memories, drinking in the sight of his mother. He replayed the moment she'd embraced him over and over. Eventually, that memory faded away, assigned to labels such as 'family' and 'longing', replaced by a room with a mirror.
Harry watched in horror as Quirrell screamed and tried desperately to escape Harry's grasp. The older man flailed under his grip, grabbing at Harry's hands as he pressed his full body weight into his face. After an eternity, Quirrell twitched before falling limp. Harry watched the dark spirit that could only be Voldemort leave Quirrell's body and flee.
The memory was associated with 'fear', 'horror', 'evil', 'Voldemort', 'anger', 'guilt', and 'disgust'.
A choked sob left Harry's lips and ripped him out of the Nothing. Guilt, disgust, and self-loathing intermingled in his stomach. His head spun, and the vile potion he'd downed threatened to resurface.
He watched his hands light up with obscure symbols as his mage sight activated. He turned his palms over; the same palms that had brutally murdered Quirrell. He felt bile rise in his throat. He swallowed thickly.
He brought his hands close to his face but couldn't bring himself to make contact. He feared he would burn himself, much like he had Quirrell. The hairs on the back of his neck raised as he saw his magic swirl in his hands. The symbols that dotted his arms pulsed but where Harry had once seen wonder and potential, he could only see disgust and evil.
Harry had a sudden realisation that the book from the restricted section was right. He was a Parselmouth and a killer at age eleven. He was becoming a dark wizard. His whole body shook at the thought. He closed his hands into fists and laid them at his sides.
His breaths came in short, erratic gasps. He was certain he was breathing but felt no air in his lungs all the same. The thought of the fear and disgust on his friends' faces when they inevitably realised what he was clawed holes into his heart.
He lay still on his bed with his eyes screwed shut. His body shuddered and his face was slick with tears, but he didn't dare wipe them off. He didn't dare move his hands at all; his hands that were capable of murder.
"Girl, this is the hospital wing!" He heard the nurse as the door swung open with a loud bang. "If you cannot be careful, I must ask you to leave."
"Sorry Madam Pomfrey," a familiar voice spoke sheepishly. "Professor McGonagall told us Harry was awake."
He opened his eyes and saw two blurry figures in red-trimmed robes. He blinked and his vision focused. Alicia and Katie stood near the entrance, getting chewed out by Madam Pomfrey. The matron pointed in Harry's direction, and the two girls half-walked-half-jogged to him.
"Harry!" Alicia made to hug him as Katie followed at a more sedate pace.
"No! Don't touch me!" Harry shrieked. Alicia looked hurt. "I'm dangerous! Please, I don't want to hurt you!"
Alicia's expression turned concerned, and her hands fell to her sides. Katie just looked confused.
"Harry, if you were at risk of hurting people, Madam Pomfrey wouldn't have allowed us to see you." Alicia tried.
"No! Y-You don't understand!" Harry rambled. "Quirrell he – I burned him. I killed him. I'm a monster!" He was sobbing again, and his hands balled up the sheets. "I just don't want to hurt you, please."
Harry was staring at his lap now and couldn't see either girl's reaction. He was surprised when a hand reached for his. He tried to pull away, but the grip was too tight. He looked up to see Alicia holding his hand. She pried his fingers apart and clasped them between hers.
"See? I'm perfectly fine," Alicia blinked back tears and gave him a cheeky smile. "I trust you, Harry. I know you'd never hurt your favourite chaser."
Harry stopped struggling.
"You all right, Green Lightning?" Katie said in a weak attempt at levity.
Harry groaned at the nickname and put his head in his hands reflexively. He immediately realised what he'd done and pulled away. Weirdly enough, he felt fine. There was no burning pain, and when he tentatively ran his hands over his cheeks, his skin felt smooth under his fingers.
Harry's breathing settled and he wiped the tears off his cheeks. "Thanks," he mumbled.
Alicia pulled him into a hug and squeezed the life out of him. "Thank Merlin you're alright. I was so worried…" she sniffled.
As always, when Alicia hugged him, Harry had a moment of panic which he stamped down. His form stiffened under her warmth, and he had no idea how to react.
There was a part of Harry that wanted to push her away. He hesitated to let his guard down again – not after what happened with Katie. The aftermath of the Norbert incident only proved to him what Dudley had beat into him as a child. People would always leave him. Letting people in only ended up getting him hurt.
But at the same time, when everyone mocked and disparaged him, Alicia was supportive, if a little angry. Hermione and Ron stuck with him through trolls and dragons and even the threat of Voldemort's return. Even Katie, whose friendship he'd ruined, was here and visibly concerned for him.
Maybe the Dursleys were wrong. It wouldn't be the first time – his relatives weren't particularly intelligent. Could he afford to place his faith in his friends? Could he handle it if he was wrong? Could he live with himself if he'd been right but hadn't taken the chance?
Tentatively, Harry raised his arms and returned the hug, albeit awkwardly. Alicia went slack around him before holding him even tighter.
The dam broke and all of Harry's self-loathing and disgust spilled out as tears on the shoulder of her robes. His body shook as he sobbed into her arms.
"I-I killed him – Professor Quirrell," Harry mumbled into her robes. "He was trying to kill me; he wanted to resurrect Voldemort. I was hurting him, but I didn't let go."
His voice cracked as he took a deep, shuddering breath. "He was screaming in pain, and I didn't stop. Am I a monster? What's wrong with me?" He pulled away from Alicia. "Maybe they were right all along. Maybe I am a freak."
"You're not a freak, Harry," Katie said firmly. Alicia nodded.
"It was self-defence," Alicia still held him, in an embrace he'd seen before in the enchanted mirror on the third floor. It was how his mother held him in the reflection. She stroked his hair absently. "Whatever happened down there – it wasn't your fault. Quirrell kidnapped you."
"I still feel terrible about it," Harry said, though he already felt a tiny bit lighter.
"That just means you're a good person, Harry," Alicia said softly. He withheld the adamant denial that was his instinct. Maybe they were right. Would a monster like Voldemort truly feel remorse? Perhaps he wasn't a monster after all. For a moment, he allowed himself to believe their words.
"Thank you," Harry said, looking at Alicia and Katie for the first time.
"Anytime," Alicia said, and Katie grinned.
"If you ever need us to knock some sense into you, just let me know."
A watery laugh slipped out of Harry, and he already felt in higher spirits.
The girls sat with him for a while, and the trio made a substantial dent in the sweet mountain. They told him he'd missed all his exams, though Professor McGonagall had informed a frantic Hermione that he could take them over the summer. They'd shared a good laugh at that. Trust Hermione to have her priorities straight even when he lay unconscious in the hospital wing.
The girls left, promising to return with the rest of the team, along with Ron and Hermione. Soon after, the door opened once more, and Professor Dumbledore stepped inside.
"Professor Dumbledore!" Harry exclaimed, surprise colouring his features. "What are you doing here?"
"Just checking in, Harry," the headmaster chuckled. He gave Madam Pomfrey a genial nod when she peeked out of her office. He smiled at the mountain of sweets. "I see you've amassed quite the collection."
Dumbledore nodded at the small pile of sweet wrappers and gave Harry a knowing smile. "I assume Ms. Spinnet and Ms. Bell are partly responsible for the sizable dent here?"
Harry could only give a sheepish grin in response. "Professor – not that I'm complaining – but where did all these sweets come from?"
"You see, Harry, the events of three weeks ago between you and Professor Quirrell, and your long recovery are a well-kept secret. So, naturally, the whole school knows," Dumbledore picked a box of Bertie Bott's Every Flavoured Beans out of the pile. "I believe these are from your well-wishers. Your friends, the Weasley twins, sent you a toilet seat. Where from, I do not know, but alas, Madam Pomfrey confiscated it. She claimed it was unhygienic."
Dumbledore's eyes twinkled, and Harry laughed.
"I must apologise on behalf of the staff of this school, Harry," Dumbledore looked solemn. "We failed in our duty as teachers, to protect you from danger – especially since that danger was from one of the staff. I know Professor Flitwick in particular feels rather guilty."
"Oh – professor, it was my fault," Harry felt bad about getting his mentor hurt. "I followed him to Quirrell's office even though he told me not to. Professor Flitwick only got hurt because he was trying to protect me. How is he? I hope he wasn't too badly injured."
"Professor Flitwick is doing all right, Harry," Dumbledore said. "I daresay he'll visit you himself before you are free from the hospital wing. Speaking of which, I assume Ms. Spinnet and Ms. Bell told you about your exams?"
"Yes, will someone really be coming to my house during the summer?" Harry asked with curiosity and a little trepidation. He didn't want anyone from the wizarding world to meet the Dursleys. He didn't want them to pity him – or worse yet, think him a freak.
"Yes, Professors Flitwick and McGonagall have volunteered to proctor your exams. They will arrive sometime in early August."
"Huh. Neat," Harry said and the two lapsed into silence. Harry was chewing on his bottom lip. There was one thing he wanted to ask but he was terrified of the answer.
"What happened to Professor Quirrell and Voldemort – Er – I mean, You-Know-Who."
"Call him Voldemort, Harry. Fear of the name only increases fear of the thing itself," Dumbledore said sagely. "After the possessed Quirrell failed his task and appeared incapable of hurting you, Voldemort abandoned him and left him to die."
Harry's heart shrivelled up in his chest. He really had killed Quirrell.
"So, it was me? I killed him?" Harry's voice wavered. "What will happen to me?"
"Nothing will happen to you, Harry," Dumbledore's voice was soothing, and Harry found the tension in his shoulders releasing despite himself. "Professor Quirrell has been dead for a long time; ever since he gave himself to Voldemort. Do not blame yourself. You were only defending yourself, and albeit unknowingly, you prevented the return of Lord Voldemort."
Harry nodded slowly. "Professor – when I touched Quirrell, his skin burned. I don't want to hurt anyone else."
"I do not believe anyone else would have the same reaction to your touch that Quirrell did," Dumbledore spoke gently. "When your mother gave her life to protect you, such an act of love created a powerful protection. In your very blood is a love so deep that Voldemort, who has never loved or been loved, cannot fathom, let alone touch. That protection would never hurt those that mean you no harm."
Harry physically felt the stress and despair leave him as he let out his first calm breath of the day. He wasn't dangerous. He wouldn't hurt anyone just by touching them – just Voldemort. He could live with that.
"Professor, what was the relic – whatever Voldemort was looking for?"
"The stone you found is called the Philosopher's Stone," Dumbledore's eyes twinkled. "The pinnacle of alchemical achievement. This one, the only one of its kind in known existence, was created by an old friend of mine, Nicholas Flamel."
"Who's Nicholas Flamel?" Harry asked.
"An old friend of mine," Dumbledore said genially. "I believe he was a Sentiomagus, like yourself."
Harry perked up at the information. "A Sentiomagus?"
"Yes, he taught your mother a few things, I believe," Dumbledore smiled as Harry's eyes widened. "I spoke to him after the debacle three weeks ago, and when I informed him of your talents, he said he would reach out to you during the summer."
"But sir, a book I read said the last known Sentiomagus was Grindelwald," Harry missed the way Dumbledore's eye twitched. "Is Mr. Flamel's ability a secret?"
"Ah, that would be because Grindelwald was the most recent Sentiomagus," Dumbledore's eyes twinkled. "Nicholas is over six hundred years old."
Harry gaped. "How…"
"The elixir of life is the closest thing wizards have ever achieved to immortality. Nicholas and his wife Perenelle have lived for a long time," Dumbledore said. "Alas, he has agreed that the last of the stones – the one you saved – must be destroyed."
"Then won't he die, professor?" Harry asked.
"Yes, Harry, he will. But to someone like Nicholas, death is like going to sleep after a long day. After all, to the well-organised mind, death is but the next great adventure," Dumbledore said, suddenly sombre. "Still, Nicholas has enough time to get his affairs in order. I believe meeting you will be one of his final endeavours. I implore you to cherish this opportunity, Harry."
Harry was awestruck. The thought of learning more about his mother's ability from the person who taught her excited him beyond words could describe. The fact that Flamel was over half a millennium old and a wealth of information was only a bonus. He was also humbled to hear that Flamel was spending the last of his newly limited time to meet Harry. Dumbledore's eyes twinkled knowingly at his upturned mood.
"Speaking of the stone, there was this mirror," Harry gestured wildly, and Dumbledore's beard twitched into a smile. "I saw my parents in it, and I saw myself – except I had the stone somehow?"
"That, Harry, was the Mirror of Erised," Dumbledore explained, and his smile turned sad. "It shows but the deepest desires in your heart. You, an orphan who has never known your family, see them beside you."
Harry nodded dumbly. He didn't think he trusted himself to respond. Echoes of the rage he'd felt when he saw the mirror thrummed through his veins. How dare the mirror mock him by dangling in front of him what he desired the most, knowing it was unattainable?
"What you saw there, with yourself and the stone, was one of my finer ideas," Dumbledore said, and Harry thought that the almost smug satisfaction looked rather funny on the wizened professor's face. "You see, the stone would only appear to someone who wished to retrieve it but never to use it. That's why Quirrell needed you to retrieve it for him."
"So, if I hadn't been down there, Quirrell never would have gotten it?" Harry frowned, wondering whether he'd nearly caused the return of Lord Voldemort.
"One cannot say, Harry. In theory, yes, but at the same time, all enchantments can be broken. We can never know. I implore you to abstain from this line of thinking," Dumbledore said kindly. "There are many hardships in life - especially when you get to my advanced age – that are of our own making. We cannot afford to spare a thought for those that are not."
"Professor, Can I ask you one last question?" Harry asked after a moment of contemplative silence.
"You already have," Dumbledore chuckled, and Harry resisted the urge to roll his eyes. "But I shall permit you to ask one more."
"That night – why did Voldemort come after me and my parents?"
"Alas, Harry, that is a question I cannot answer," Dumbledore said seriously. Harry frowned. "I shall tell you when you are older and ready."
Harry nodded reluctantly. Dumbledore smiled kindly and held out the box of Bertie Bott's.
"Would you care for an Every Flavoured Bean?" Dumbledore asked, and Harry politely refused. "I was rather fond of these in my youth, but I once came across a vomit-flavoured one. Lost my liking for them after that. I think I will be safe with a toffee-flavoured bean; wouldn't you agree?"
Dumbledore picked one out of the box and popped it in his mouth. "Alas, earwax." He said through an exaggerated grimace, and Harry couldn't help but laugh.
"Well, Harry, I must take my leave. Classes have just ended, and I believe you will have many guests to host very soon."
Dumbledore could not have been more right; ten minutes had not passed since the headmaster left before he was swarmed by a crowd of eight. Ron and Hermione nearly ran through the doors, followed by the entirety of the Quidditch team.
He enjoyed watching the twins, who'd set off fireworks when they saw him, get reamed by Madam Pomfrey. The eight visitors piled into chairs or the neighbouring beds. Alicia opted to make herself comfortable at the foot of his bed, and Oliver was still engrossed in a tense conversation with Madam Pomfrey. With Harry's blessing, the party of eight made a considerable dent into the pile of sweets.
"What's Oliver talking to Madam Pomfrey about?" Harry asked, chewing on the end of a liquorice wand. The captain was looking more and more defeated as they spoke.
"Probably trying to convince her to let you play next week," Katie took a bite out of a chocolate frog, perched on a nearby bed with her feet dangling off the edge.
"The Ravenclaw game is next week?" Harry exclaimed in shock.
Simultaneously, Hermione glared at the back of Oliver's head. "He's trying to make him play? After everything he just went through?"
Harry promptly ignored his best friend the Quidditch hater.
Katie nodded mournfully. "Yup, I've been subbing in as seeker – it's not looking good."
"I've been talking to Hopkins. He's subbing in as a chaser for Katie," Angelina explained at Harry's confused look. "He seems all right but with you in the hospital and Katie in an off role it's going to be difficult to take the cup."
"Sorry," Harry said meekly. His insecurities flared up again and he wondered if he might lose his spot on the team because of this. A scenario played in his mind where Katie caught the snitch and took his position as the seeker. He tamped down the momentary resentment that filled his thoughts.
"Don't worry about it, Harry," Alicia patted his arm. "'S not your fault. We'll make do. Worst come to worst, there's always next year. Try not to get kidnapped though next time, yeah?"
Harry snorted. "Advice taken."
Oliver joined the group, claiming a spot on the floor. He leaned back against a bedpost. "How've you been, Harry? Pomfrey says you're not ready for strenuous activity."
Oliver rolled his eyes, telling everyone just what he thought of her prognosis. Harry could only give his captain an apologetic shrug.
The large group was allowed to stay for a few minutes longer before Fred and George set off another explosion, getting everyone kicked out. Alicia gave Harry one last hug before promising to come see him the next day. The twins were plotting over which Hogwarts plumbing fixture to send Harry next – they had their eyes set on something from the prefects' bathroom. Hermione was already jabbering about the study planners she'd make Harry so he could prepare for his exams over the summer, and Ron promised to bring him an extra thick slice of treacle tart from dinner to help him wash down the potions.
"All that sugar will only impede his recovery, Mr. Weasley!" Madam Pomfrey chastised when she overheard them. "If you want him to recover quickly, do refrain from the sweets."
Speaking of his potions, three vials remained untouched. He'd drank one before his guests, and Alicia and Katie had forced two more down his throat when they'd stopped by earlier. He reached for a chocolate frog from the mountain of treats his friends had demolished. If he were to drink the foul concoctions, he would need something sweet to wash it down. His hand wrapped around the golden and purple box when he had a thought.
Recover quickly, huh?
Harry withdrew his hand from the sweets emptyhanded. He sighed resignedly before uncorking another vial and plugging his nose.
It was going to be a long night.
Meanwhile, in Gryffindor Tower, the three chasers sat together in the third-year girl's dormitories. At the beginning of the year, Alicia and Angelina had brokered a deal with their other roommate to switch beds with Katie now and then. After much bribery (Angelina's chocolate stash had taken a rather severe hit) the other third-year Gryffindor girl agreed to sleep in the second-year dorms once in a blue moon. Tonight was one such blue moon.
"Big sister Alicia, adopting firsties," Katie sang, dressed in striped pyjamas. Alicia rolled her eyes from where she sat on her bed. "Did you write the Ministry for the adoption certificate already?"
"I reckon they'd be quick with it too. They probably remember her from when she adopted you last year," Angelina laughed from the bathroom. She stuck her head out the door and gave the younger girl a knowing look. Katie's face went red.
"Alicia did not adopt me!" Katie protested. Angelina only raised an eyebrow. "I don't count!"
"Why not?" Angelina retorted. Katie sputtered.
"Because – Because –" Katie huffed and rolled her eyes, prompting laughter from the other two girls.
Angelina walked out of the bathroom and flopped into bed – Alicia's to be specific. She smothered the smaller girl under her weight. Alicia let out a muffled screech.
"Geroff me, you ugly brute!"
"Make me," Angelina grinned at a laughing Katie, as Alicia made a futile effort to shove the larger girl off.
"You've been awfully quiet today," Angelina said cheerfully, and Alicia's struggles slowed. "I thought it was just because Harry was knocked out but you're still acting odd."
Katie looked at the older girls with intrigue. Alicia finally succeeded in shoving Angelina off, though realistically, Angelina let herself get shoved off. She sat at the foot of the bed and brushed a stray braid off her face, pulling a rubber band off her wrist and tying her hair back.
"Wingardium Leviosa," Angelina grinned, flicking her wand at Katie, and the younger girl yelped as her bed was dragged over to the other two.
"Now that we're all nice and comfortable," Angelina dropped back on her bed with a thud, panting slightly from the exertion of the spell. "Out with it, lady, what's filling up that empty noggin of yours?"
"Just something Harry said," Alicia said dismissively, though she was clearly bothered by it. Katie also frowned and Angelina looked confused.
"Speccy? He looked fine when I saw him," Angelina shrugged. Katie shook her head.
"You didn't see him when he first woke up," she frowned, her eyes glazed over as she relived the memory. "He was distraught, saying something about Quirrell and that he was dangerous. I've never seen him like that. He looked terrified when Alicia tried to hug him."
The girl in question flinched and hugged her knees to her chest. "I was so relieved he was okay, I just forgot he didn't like hugs that much. He's never been big on physical contact, but the way he jumped away, I thought he was afraid of me…"
Katie shifted and hugged Alicia, who smiled gratefully.
"I've never seen someone like that," Katie said, looking at Angelina. "I've never seen someone look so… scared. The worst part was that he was afraid of himself. He thought he would hurt us."
"Did you hear what he was saying?" Alicia asked, her face paler than ever.
"Yeah, I thought I'd heard wrong. Rather I hoped so," Katie said with a deep frown.
"What did he say?" Angelina asked as a feeling of foreboding settled over the room.
"He said he killed Quirrell – in self-defence – because he was trying to resurrect You-Know-Who," Alicia said gravely. There was a sharp intake of breath from Angelina.
"You're joking, right?" she laughed weakly. Alicia shook her head.
"Wish I was. I wonder what he saw down there that made him think that."
"You don't believe him?" Angelina raised an eyebrow.
"I don't know what to believe," Alicia shrugged helplessly. "He was rambling, in the middle of a breakdown. He certainly seemed to believe it. Besides, why would he lie about something like that? He's been hurt by You-Know-Who more than anyone else. And I don't think he'd lie to us."
Katie nodded and visibly shrunk. "I think that he at least believes he saw You-Know-Who. Whether that actually was him… I really hope Harry's wrong."
Angelina hopped into Katie's bed and hugged her tight. The younger girl squeezed back desperately.
"Speaking of Harry," Alicia said in a feeble attempt to change the topic. "Are you two speaking again?"
"Yeah…" Katie frowned. "He talks to me fine during practice, but it's not like it was before. I think he's still mad at me about the whole ignoring him thing."
Alicia frowned. It didn't seem like Harry to hold a grudge. "He's been a little withdrawn around the rest of the team too. Doesn't really talk to us as much and hangs out more with those first-year friends of his. I hope we didn't do anything, though I can't think of anything besides your little spat."
Angelina shrugged. "Nothing we can do at the moment. I reckon things will sort themselves out."
Katie shrugged helplessly, and Angelina squeezed her again, receiving a smile from the younger girl.
"Anyway," Angelina's forcefully cheerful voice cut through the tension. "I saw you acting real chummy with Cedric after breakfast. When's the wedding Katie-kat?"
Katie turned bright red, whether because of the mention of her crush or the nickname was to be determined. She shoved Angelina off her bed, and the larger girl tumbled with a startled yelp.
"Ooh," Alicia clapped her hands together. "Who gets to be maid of honour? Me or Angie?"
"Neither of you, if you keep this up," Katie grumbled. Angelina poked her head out over the side of the bed.
"So, there is a wedding then? We're just not invited?"
Katie shrieked, grabbed a pillow, and began playing whack-a-mole with Angelina's head. Alicia howled with laughter from the safety of her bed.
As the girls enjoyed their slumber party, Harry Potter was fast asleep. While his body rested between the sterile sheets of the hospital wing, his mind had been whisked away to a realm far away. He woke in a familiar, birchwood bed. The luminescent white walls glowed their welcome as he sat up. The Palace of Light welcomed its Chosen.
Sat on the chair next to him was a familiar, red-haired woman. Harry stared disbelievingly at his mother. There was a part of him that had believed his previous foray into the Palace of Light was but a dream. The rational part of him pointed out that he'd been too aware, too lucid – too awake to have been dreaming. But he'd been hesitant all the same. It seemed too good to be true. And if Harry learnt anything from Uncle Vernon ranting about his drills, it was that when something seemed too good to be true, it probably was.
But the evidence to the contrary sat right before him, reading a muggle thriller novel called The Talented Mr. Ripley.
"Mum?" Harry called tentatively. The word still felt foreign on his tongue.
"Harry, you're awake!" Lily Potter beamed at him. She hugged him, and he felt that same cool, silky texture as her hands caressed his face. He found himself comparing the hug to the one he'd received from Alicia a few hours prior. He didn't like that he preferred Alicia's hugs to Lily's. Alicia's hugs were warmer, whereas Lily's were cold and uncomfortably smooth. Lily held him as if he might break, while Alicia hugged him as tight as possible, conveying her affection through the embrace. Harry felt a little guilty. Here he was hugging his mum after ten years of desperately wishing for such a thing, and he was critiquing her technique instead of enjoying the moment. Especially since he knew they were on borrowed time.
He did wonder why she felt so cold. Perhaps it was because she was only a spectre. His heart felt heavy at the reminder.
Mother and son left the bedchamber, heading to the same open area they'd been in previously. The room was as Harry remembered it, except for the plaza in the middle. Where there had once been lawn chairs were now yoga mats and an assortment of pure white feathers inside a pale white gazebo. Once they were shaded, Lily waved her hand and curtains fell over the gazebo, blocking them from the outside.
"Inside here, you should be safe to use your mage sight," Lily gestured to the feathers. "Try it."
Harry focused, and the feathers illuminated with crackling white magic. He glanced at his mother. She was also that same, brilliant shade of white. She smiled as he blinked, and the symbols disappeared from his body.
"This has to do with what we'll be learning today. You'll learn to identify the type of spell on an object."
Harry and Lily sat on opposing mats, with identical feathers between them. She walked him through the process of reaching out to the magic and understanding it. She made it sound like he was communicating with the magic – asking it questions. She explained that magic was essentially a sentient energy that is used to manipulate reality.
Magic could be used to exert one's will over existing objects, changing their very nature. This was the basis for Transfiguration. It could also enhance or supplement an object, changing its properties without modifying it. This was taught as Charms. Magic was also innately present in living beings other than witches and wizards, such as certain plants and animals. Of course, this line of magic was foundational in Herbology and Potions and as he would learn later, Care of Magical Creatures. Potions and Herbology were two sides of the same coin, she explained. Herbology dealt with identifying innate magical properties and how to utilise them effectively. Potions dealt with combining those different ingredients to manipulate their innate magic, changing their properties to achieve a particular effect.
Harry wondered why they weren't taught this theory in Hogwarts. He found himself understanding his classes much better after seeing them from this perspective. When he voiced his thoughts, Lily told him it was harder for those without their gift to visualise and comprehend these concepts. It was hard to view magic as an energy being manipulated in certain ways when you couldn't see the energy and watch it be manipulated. Only NEWT-level students were taught this advanced level of theory.
Lily taught him to identify the different categories of magic. She transfigured a feather into a teapot, and he watched the strands of magic twist across the surface as it morphed. The best way he could describe it was that her magic was fighting the feather – which made sense with the explanation. Even after the feather was fully turned into a teapot, Harry could see the strands of magic constantly in flux as it fought the teapot's innate desire to become a feather again. It reminded him of the way his broom looked when he first got it. The way his magic fought the magic of the broom maker for ownership. However, the broom had been fighting another magical signature, whereas the magic on the teapot was fighting its very nature.
Lily cast a colour-changing charm on a different feather, turning it blue. Harry picked it up and felt for the magic. Like the transfiguration spell, the magic was in constant motion. Where the magic in the feather-turned-teapot had been erratic and almost belligerent, the colour-changing charm was smooth, fluid. The magic seemed to flow together like a constant, circular stream. He felt the feather was almost accepting the enchantment. After all, it wasn't trying to pervert the feather's nature, simply change its properties.
Lily explained that an ancient wizarding philosopher by the name of Aristotle had formulated the theory that was still used as the basis for spell creation. Lily said Harry would learn about it if he took Arithmancy – something Harry was sure he would now do. But the gist was that any object has a substance – a primordial, innate quality that was necessary for it to be considered as such. For humans, it was the soul, but for innate objects, it wasn't quite that simple. No one knew exactly what made a feather a feather, but they knew it wasn't a teapot. Transfiguration required more willpower than Charms because the former changed the very substance of the feather into that of the teapot, whereas changing the colour only changed its outward properties – it was still, at its core, a feather.
Lily explained that the idea of the substance was essential to Transfiguration in particular. To that end, the unknown variable that Harry learned about in his first year of Transfiguration with McGonagall was related to substance. Lily told him that that discussion, while interesting, was far beyond anything they would need for their lessons.
Before he knew it, the moon above them was replaced by the first rays of the sun. Lily smiled sadly as they looked up at the sky.
"It's time to leave, Harry," she smiled sadly. "I will see you tomorrow night."
Harry smiled wistfully as Lily led him to the chamber he'd woken up in. He hugged her once more before she tucked him into bed.
"Sol will take you back," Lily said from where she sat next to him. "Sleep, love. Sweet dreams."
Her voice held a hint of irony at the end, and Harry laughed. Suddenly, his eyes drooped as sleep took him once more.
Harry didn't have a pleasant sleep. In the first rays of dawn, he thrashed and turned in his bed as nightmares took him. He dreamed of Quirrell, who smirked cruelly with eyes as red as blood. That comparison only became truer when dark crimson liquid oozed out of Quirrell's eyes as he screamed. Handprints appeared across the older man's face, and the skin underneath turned raw and blistered. The man turned to ash, and in his place stood Harry. He looked different – older, taller, powerful – but his eyes were empty. The green was dull and murky before it disappeared entirely, replaced by a red like burning coals. The Harry in the dream laughed and waved his wand, and there was a slithering sound as hundreds of snakes swarmed him. The snakes receded, and where Harry once stood was a pile of bodies. He made out bright red hair, a bushy mane, and a scarlet and gold bandanna with a golden broom pin.
The bandanna was stained with blood.
Harry woke up screaming.
Madam Pomfrey rushed over with a potion vial. She held the back of his head and tipped the vial into his mouth. He shuddered and stilled as he felt the calming potion enter his system.
"You're all right, Mr. Potter," the matron soothed him. "You're safe and healthy. You're all right."
Harry's breaths came out in whole-body shudders. His chest felt as though a heavy weight pressed down on it. He rubbed his chest, forcing his breathing to steady.
"I'm all right." He gently shifted away from the nurse, who gave him a reproving look but didn't press the issue. Instead, she walked away and returned with another tray of potions.
"In that case, I'm sure you'll be fine to drink all of these. I shall bring breakfast afterwards."
Harry groaned as Pomfrey left the tray on his nightstand. He focused on the potions, ignoring the bloodied bandanna or the pile of bodies that kept cropping up in his mind. A welcome distraction came in the form of Ron and Hermione, who came to visit him before classes.
Hermione gave him a bone-crushing hug as soon as he entered, and Harry felt himself tense at her touch. He sat awkwardly with his arms trapped at his sides. Ron walked in slower and gave him an easy grin.
"All right, Harry?" asked the red-headed boy.
"Not too bad," Harry shrugged. "Can't wait to get out of here though."
Ron snorted while Hermione looked at him suspiciously. Harry didn't realise his complexion still looked rather peaky. There was an air of anxiety about him after that terrible nightmare he'd awoken to.
The trio chatted for a few minutes, and Hermione gave Harry a rundown of everything he'd missed in classes. He found that between his occlumency and the things he'd learned from his mother, he managed to keep up with most of what Hermione was telling him. It gave him hope for his exams during the summer. She also gave him a large stack of parchment – her exam prep notes. Harry thanked her repeatedly and she looked rather pleased with herself.
Grudgingly, Harry's friends left for class, leaving him alone in the hospital wing. Harry, for lack of pastime, read the notes Hermione gave him. They were comprehensive and meticulous, and he found them easy to understand. He resolved to buy her a large slab of chocolate on the train ride back. Even though her parents, the dentists, disapproved, Harry knew Hermione had a hidden sweet tooth.
That was how Alicia found Harry when she stopped by after classes. She sat on the edge of his bed, and he looked up from where he'd been solving Transfiguration equations.
"No, you've got to multiply the wand power with the concentration, then subtract the unknown variable," Alicia pointed to the scribbles on his page. Harry rearranged his equation and then grinned when his answer matched the key.
"Thanks."
"Don't mention it," Alicia patted his hand absently, then she looked at him seriously. "How're you doing, Harry? Feeling better since yesterday?"
"Yeah, loads," Harry said, and he found it wasn't a lie. He'd taken to a little walking earlier and found he felt mostly fine. At this point, Madam Pomfrey was keeping him around just in case he had some delayed symptoms. He was having an easier time mentally too. Despite his nightmare about Quirrell, he felt loads better about the whole ordeal. When Dumbledore assured him that he couldn't hurt his friends with his touch, he found that the most prominent of his fears had been assuaged. "Sorry about yesterday. That was embarrassing, I didn't mean to get snot on you."
She snorted. "That's fine, Harry," she said softly, softer than he'd ever heard her. She squeezed his hand. "I don't mind. Really," she added at his dubious look.
"I just don't want to be a burden," he said meekly. She glared at him.
"You're not a burden, Harry Potter," she said fiercely. "You're my friend. If you have problems, I want to hear them. I want to help however I can. I can speak for Oliver and Katie and Angelina and the twins that they feel the same. You're not alone, Harry."
Harry felt tears well up in his eyes and withheld a sniffle. "Thank you." His voice was small but earnest. If there was anything the last twenty-four hours had shown him, it was that his friends really did care for him. He tried to remind himself he wasn't alone.
After ten years of being told the opposite by the Dursleys, that would take some time to sink in. But Harry promised to remind himself every chance he got.
Harry held his arms open, and Alicia grinned before hugging him. She squeezed him tight, but not in the suffocating way Hermione tended to. She also didn't treat him like glass, like the fragile embrace his mother preferred. Alicia's hugs were somewhere perfectly in the middle, and Harry found that he had a new favourite hugger.
He noticed that Alicia was quieter than usual. Missing was the sarcastic wit he usually associated with her.
"Are you all right?" he asked.
She sifted through his notes absently and hummed noncommittally.
"Alicia?" he prompted. She bit her lip.
"What exactly happened down there, Harry?" Alicia asked quickly. Then, her face went red. "You don't have to say anything if you don't want to. I didn't want to bring up bad memories. It's just – when we first saw you…"
Harry nearly recoiled at the fear in her eyes.
She's afraid of me. I am a monster. He thought dejectedly.
"When we first saw you, you said something about Quirrell – that he tried to resurrect You-Know-Who."
A chill ran through Harry as he looked at his friend. He was so used to seeing her as older, wiser, and someone to go to for advice that he sometimes forgot she was only two years older than him. Only thirteen. And he'd insinuated that the worst dark lord of their era was still alive. She wasn't scared of him. It was Voldemort she feared. Relief flooded him, and the same righteous anger he felt whenever he thought of the dark wizard only intensified.
Harry recounted the entire story, beginning with the Quidditch match. Alicia gasped when he told her about the jinxed broom. She chastised him for not telling Oliver about the note. She looked relieved that he went to Flitwick, which quickly turned to horror when he detailed the professors' duel and the aftermath. She hugged him shakily when he detailed the bright green spell.
"Harry, that was the killing curse," she whispered. "If Flitwick hadn't conjured those birds…"
She shuddered at the thought.
"Then Quirrell cast a spell on me, and I fell asleep. Then I woke up in this stone room. There was nothing there except this gaudy gold mirror," Harry's breathing became quick and shallow as he recounted his worst memory. "Quirrell was looking for something – some kind of stone. I looked in the mirror and realised the stone was in my pocket."
Alicia gasped.
"Quirrell realised I had it, and tried to take it from me," Harry hugged himself, and Alicia rubbed his back soothingly. "He tried to choke me, and I grabbed his face. My touch – it burned him, Alicia. He was screaming. It was horrible."
Harry's voice failed him, and the two sat together in silence.
"He pulled out his wand and was going to kill me," Harry continued quietly. "I just lunged at him. I grabbed him, and he screamed and screamed, but I didn't let go. He fell to the floor, and I passed out. Then I woke up here."
"I'm so sorry you had to go through that," she said feebly. "You've been through so much…"
Then her eyes took a stormy quality more akin to the Alicia he knew.
"This is all on Quirrell," she said stoutly. "You are not to blame for any of this, Harry. You're a good person and you're not dangerous; don't ever think otherwise. Got it?"
Harry nodded. "Dumbledore told me I can't hurt anyone else like I did Quirrell."
"Huh, that's good" Alicia blinked. "How'd you hurt him anyway?"
"My mum left me some kind of protection when she died," Harry shrugged, though his eyes got a little misty. "Basically, anyone trying to hurt me will burn at my touch."
"That's pretty neat," Alicia grinned. "You should give Flint a high-five next time you see him."
Harry laughed. "I don't think it would work for something as petty as that, but I'll try anyway."
"Then what was that about You-Know-Who?" Alicia gulped.
"Ah," Harry swallowed. He debated whether to tell Alicia about Voldemort. He could see the fear in her eyes at the thought of his return. But he couldn't lie to her.
No more secrets, Katie's words rang through his head.
"Quirrell was working for Voldemort."
Alicia flinched violently. Whether that was from the utterance of Voldemort's name or the implication of Harry's statement, he didn't know. He told her about the encounter in the Forbidden Forest, about the Philosopher's Stone hidden in the third-floor corridor, and seeing Voldemort's face for the first time.
"You-Know-Who was on the back of our Defence professor's head this whole year?" Alicia's face was in her hands. "Harry, are you sure it was him? Maybe it was someone else. There has to be another explanation."
"I wish there was, 'Licia," Harry said solemnly. "Dumbledore himself confirmed it. Voldemort wants to finish the job. He wants me dead."
That sealed it. Alicia let out a choked sob before falling silent.
There was not a single noise in the hospital room. Alicia stared at Harry with horror dancing in her dark eyes. He waited with bated breath. He waited for her to renounce their friendship. Call him a murderer. Call him dangerous. A boy marked for death. He half expected her to run away. He didn't expect her to embrace him.
Once more, he sobbed into her shoulder. His relief was palpable in the form of thick, salty tears.
"You just can't catch a break, can you?" Alicia sighed.
"You're not leaving?" Harry asked, astonished. Alicia pinched his arm angrily.
"And why would I do that?"
"I'm a killer. And I have Voldemort after me," Harry said as if it were obvious. "It's not safe to be my friend."
"I figured being your friend wasn't safe on Halloween, Harry. I thought I would have a heart attack when I found out you wrestled a bloody troll," Alicia smirked at him. He scratched his neck embarrassedly. "I'm still here, aren't I? Us Gryffindors, we don't usually run from our problems, you know?"
Harry nodded into her shoulder. A warm feeling filled his chest. He still couldn't believe that Ron, Hermione, and now Alicia, hadn't left him once Voldemort reared his head. How did he get so lucky? He resolved to put double effort into their Christmas presents next year.
"Can you – can you not tell the others that I killed Quirrell?" he mumbled. "I don't want them to think differently of me."
Alicia hummed her assent. "I promise no one will think differently of you, but I'll keep your secret anyway. Thanks for telling me. I imagine that must've been hard."
Harry smiled weakly. "'S all right. I trust you."
Alicia grinned back, flattered. "I appreciate it, Harry."
The two sat together, poring over Hermione's Transfiguration notes. Alicia was rather good at the subject, so Harry was getting a good grasp of the concepts as she explained them. She also praised Hermione's notes, finding them as impressive as he did.
The door to the hospital wing opened again, and Professor Flitwick entered, carrying Harry's book bag.
"Mr. Potter, feeling better, I hope?" Flitwick beamed at Harry, who nodded in response. "Ms. Spinnet, I'm glad to see you visiting him. Mr. Potter is very lucky to have friends like yourself."
Alicia's cheeks pinked as she mumbled a thank you.
"I have your things here, Mr. Potter," Flitwick's grin dimmed a little as he handed Harry the bag. "I managed to repair the tear in your bag, though some of the things within were irreparably damaged."
Harry opened the bag and pulled out his invisibility cloak. In his haste to check the cloak for damage, he activated his mage sight, forgetting Alicia sitting on a chair at his side.
"Harry, you're glowing!" she exclaimed. He nearly dropped his cloak, and the mage sight fizzled out.
"Thanks, I feel a lot better too," he grinned. She rolled her eyes.
"Not what I meant, you prat," Alicia swatted his arm. "What was that!"
Harry looked at Flitwick, who grinned at Harry unhelpfully. He explained his mage sight to Alicia, omitting the details about being Theia's Chosen. He hadn't even told Flitwick about that yet, as he wasn't sure what to make of the situation. She stared at him in awe.
"So, you can just – see magic?"
Harry nodded. "And touch it. Eventually, I might be able to smell and hear it too."
"How do you smell magic?" Alicia asked, bemused.
Harry shrugged. "I'll let you know when I find out."
"Huh," Alicia said intelligently. "And what's that?"
"This is my dad's old invisibility cloak," Harry said proudly. "Got it for Christmas. No idea who sent it to me."
"You've been holding out on us, Harry," Alicia whistled, looking impressed. "Do not let Fred and George know you have one, though. I shudder to think of what they'd do with a bloody invisibility cloak."
"I'm of half a mind to let them use it for the prank they're going to pull on you," Harry grinned mischievously. Alicia groaned and put her head in her hands.
"Why did I agree to that?" she whined. "I've been so paranoid this past year; you have no idea, Harry."
Harry laughed and Alicia joined in, shaking her head. Flitwick cleared his throat, and the two students looked sheepishly at their professor as they remembered his presence.
"I must go soon since I have my third-year charms essays to grade," Flitwick winked at Alicia, who laughed. "Mr. Potter, you will find all your things inside that bag, broken or otherwise. Also, I wanted to give you my apologies – I failed to protect you from Professor Quirrell, and it is my fault that you are here in the hospital. I failed you and your mother. For that I am sorry."
The professor bowed his head, and Harry frowned.
"Professor, it wasn't your fault," Harry insisted. "Just like I told Dumbledore, I followed you to Quirrell's office despite your orders. If anything, I should apologise to you. Quirrell only stunned you because you were trying to save my life. Alicia told me about the curse Quirrell cast. I would have died if not for you. So, thank you, Professor."
Flitwick smiled weakly. "Thank you for the kind words, Harry. I will leave you with your possessions."
Harry rummaged through his bag as the professor left. He had a sinking feeling as he sifted through the scrap parchment and the quills. He pulled out a plastic bag with bright blue shattered fragments inside.
"Is that –" Alicia started, and Harry nodded.
"The sneakoscope you got me," Harry's voice was small, and his vision was blurred with tears. He blinked them back. "Yeah, Quirrell smashed it. It was in my bag. I'm sorry."
"It's all right, Harry," Alicia took the bag from him and tapped it with her wand. "Reparo," she said. Nothing happened. "Worth a shot," she grinned at Harry who smiled weakly.
"Seriously though, don't worry about it," Alicia said. "I don't care about the sneakoscope. What's important is that you're okay."
"Thanks," Harry mumbled, still looking at the remnants of the sneakoscope. One of the first Christmas presents he'd ever gotten was gone. Just like that. Because of Voldemort.
"I'll get you another one next year," Alicia grinned. "This way I don't have to think too hard about your present."
Harry snorted and felt better. Maybe Dudley was wrong after all. Maybe not everyone was meant to leave. Maybe some people were meant to stay.
With those light-hearted thoughts, Harry accepted the chocolate frog Alicia handed to him. The two of them bit the head off their frogs in tandem and shared identical, chocolate-stained grins.
Yeah, he was starting to believe that now.
Another week, another chapter of Dynasty, though this one was a *little* late. Man this one was an emotional rollercoaster, eh? Ended on a high note though! We're almost done with first year (two chapters left woooo). Next one has QUIDDITCH WOOOO. After far too long, we're having a Quidditch chapter yay.
Anyway, thanks for all the support, and please continue with the reviews/comments, I really do appreciate them.