Chapter 16: Chapter 9

Notes:

sorry for the delay!
I quite literally changed my life srastically this past month and now i am living in a new place, studying in a new place in a different language, learning how to live in this new and chaotic place and having to retake several of my uni exams because they did not pass all through this new uni
so... the last chapter might come next week or next month, there is no telling when I'll be able to sit down for more than an hour to edit and post it, sorryyyyy in advance!

(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)

Chapter Text

Or, at least, he attempted to open his eyes.

The lids seemed to be glued off, either by goo or sleep-sand or some other invisible force, but he didn't have enough energy yet to rub at them. Remaining buried inside the covers was much more enticing and he knew that, as soon as he got up and left the cupboard, he would have to face the world in the form of his shrieking Aunt, vile Uncle and spoiled cousin. A few more moments of comfort and silence were a surprising luxury, after all.

Although, he realised with starling speed, he most definitely was not in his cupboard, given that he did not feel the sense of dread that always permeated the air at Privet Drive. Nor was he laying on the dingy mattress that had more metal springs that poked his back than cotton, even if there hadn't been much cotton to begin with, since he felt his back surrounded by comfort and there was none in his cupboard. Nor was he burrowed under the single sheet he had in his cupboard, which was a pathetic excuse for a cover that didn't serve him at all during winter and would have left him to die of hypothermia if he hadn't managed to salvage one of Dudley's old blankets, destroyed by his careless hands.

His own hands immediately flew to his face, rubbing eagerly at his eyes as the memories of the previous day rushed over him.

Or, at least, what he thought was the previous day. For all he knew an eternity could have passed!

Not that time mattered anymore, not in the face of the freedom he had gained.

He had never had such a comfortable sleep, probably not since his parents died.

"Murdered," a quiet voice at the back of his head reminded him, clinging to the shreds of a dream he was quickly forgetting. But he didn't pay attention to it because, as soon as he finally managed to pry his eyes open, he was flooded by light and forced to shut them once more.

"Good morning, sweetheart!" Healer Katara's voice called, moving closer with each syllable and causing Harry to smile, even with his eyes still closed, as a wave of warmth passed over him at her approach.

It was definitely a different sensation than what he was used to: even without all of his senses, he felt sharper, somehow. As if, before sleeping in the goblin infirmary, he was living underwater and only now, once he was awake, he was finally out in the fresh air. Her magic, for he assumed that was the warmth he felt as he eventually looked at her and saw her smiling face, was now vibrant and vivid in front of his eyes and was surrounding her in a golden light, all the while reaching out to him, embracing him.

Even without his glasses, everything felt crisper, somehow.

It was marvellous.

Magic was truly amazing!

"How are you faring?" she asked, handing him his glasses and trying to tame his wild bangs. A lost cause, but one that warmed him from the inside regardless. He was past embarrassment, since she had probably heard him mumble and whine and drool in his sleep one time too many, so he preened under her ministrations.

And he was feeling better than ever!

Undoubtedly all thanks to her care, which he was more than eager to thank her for.

But, when he tried to speak, his throat closed up, dry as the Sahara and rough as sandpaper. He began coughing, doubling over himself as Healer Katara patted him on the back and tried to calm him down.

"Here, drink some water first," she said softly, pressing a cold glass in his hands, which he gladly accepted.

"Slowly!" she hurriedly added once he downed the entire glass, basically drowning himself. But she hadn't been upset by his actions, seemed more amused than anything, and Harry had the decency to act sheepish. His timid smile caused her to laugh and ruffle his hair, giving up the impossible task of fixing it: "It's alright, it has been a while since you last drank something, you must have been mighty thirsty. You've been asleep for quite some time. How did you sleep?"

"Incredibly, ma'am!" he replied, joy never faltering under her care and ministrations, "This bed is the most comfortable one I've ever been on!"

"And I bet you'll find even finer ones," she commented, sitting down and forking her own glasses to look seriously at him: "Now, I'm happy to inform you that all the ailments and hiccups that were found out with the medical examination and the magic testing are completely resolved and you are fully healed. How do you feel?"

Historically speaking, he didn't know how to answer.

Back at Privet Drive, no one ever bothered asking him about those trivial things. After all, if he could clean and do his chores, then he was fine enough for his relatives. Any ache wasn't important to them, at least not if it came from him, and he was under the impression that the less he commented on his state, the more they left him alone.

Dudley, in particular, enjoyed chasing him and punching him if he knew he had a sore spot already.

Not that he was left alone even when he wasn't hurting already, but he seemed more malicious if he wasn't at his best.

Everywhere else he had been asked, sure, but more often than not it was only a customary action. A teacher eyeing his bruises and commenting on them, a neighbour seeing his size and being wary of it. The nurse asked him whenever he was in her little office, but hers was more a "Tell me what hurts so I can get rid of you" than an "I am truly concerned about your being and I would like to help you."

And, with time, he had stopped acknowledging his pains altogether. He didn't bother recalling them, especially since there were always too many to count.

But this time, it was different.

Healer Katara had sat down with him and listened to him and healed him and was still there, smiling down at him and trying to fix his unruly hair. She actually cared about him. She wanted to know how he truly was, not to ridicule or harm him, but to help him get better, because she wanted what was best for him.

It was a wild concept, but not an unwelcome one.

So he tried to gather all the information he could feel on his body: he wiggled his fingers and toes, he scrunched his nose and he collected every crack his bones made, for the first time out of having been stuck in bed for a long time, and not having been tossed down the stairs.

He felt weird, but a good weird. He just didn't know how to explain it.

"I…" he began, wetting his lips and taking a steadying breath for good measure, "I feel different, but the same still? I don't know. The aches I had before aren't here and my head feels… crisp, somehow. But, other than that, I don't know. It's a bit weird, to be honest."

Healer Katara patted his arm comfortingly, still smiling: "That's quite alright, sweetheart. You did have some fundamental changes, after all. Think of it as if we have lifted a veil that was holding you back. You're still you, Harry, we just fixed the damage that all your previous and reckless guardians had done to you."

"What about the curse thing?" he asked after a moment of self-reflection, the vestiges of his dream still humming in the back of his head. He couldn't remember the wide details, but there was a nagging feeling that made him want to know more.

"That was removed as well, my husband took care of it," she said, huffing in pride, before helping him up and passing him along a bundle of clothes, which he gladly took as she closed the curtain on the bed, "Thankfully, it did not cause you more than the occasional headache, even if I think that it might have been stifling you, which is why everything feels, as you aptly said, crisp. Between the two of us, I was quite worried it would be harder to deal with, since it was powerful and black magic, but the wizard who had done it was a downright moron who couldn't do proper magic! All that fanfare around his name and his followers was mainly due to them wearing awful masks and wixen being scaredy cats, in my opinion."

He couldn't help but laugh with her, itching to know exactly what those masks looked like to see if they were truly as awful as she said.

"So, I'm fine?" he asked once he was dressed and back in her presence. He had gnawed his cheek the whole time and he could taste a bit of copper at his worry, so he decided to be courageous and ask one more time, for good measure.

"Right as rain."

"How long…" he swallowed a bit, pushing his concerns down, "how long was I asleep?"

Originally, he was supposed to be overnight alone. Originally, he had panicked about the prospect of leaving the Dursleys for that long and of eventually returning back to Privet Drive, where punishments would surely await him. Originally, he had to be reassured that nothing bad would have happened.

And, given the stellar track record the goblins had with him, he believed every single word that came out of their mouths.

After all, if he was to return to his relatives' house, they would have already been there, dragging him away while kicking and screaming. If he was still in danger, the signs would have been there already.

Since the peaceful infirmary was, indeed, peaceful, it was a great relief.

Besides, the General had asked him to trust him and, for the first time in Harry's short life, he had actually been trustworthy.

So, it didn't matter truly how long he had been asleep and out of the world. It wasn't fear or concern that made him ask. His was a simple curiosity, nothing to be ashamed about.

Or, at least, something that the Dursleys had made him weary about, but he wanted to remove all the nasty habits and fears they had taught him.

So, Curious Harry he was.

And, with Healer Katara's rueful smile, his curiosity grew and grew.

"I know I had initially supposed a night or two," she began and sighed, taking off her glasses and motioning for him to sit in the chair in front of hers, "but it was a little over a week. I'm afraid my calculations were a bit off, I did not expect the blocks on your magic to have taken such a toll on your body. And we decided against waking you, once you were healed, since we wanted to give your body the time to rest. Also, the fact that you slept through the cursebreaking ordeal was a good thing, this way you had an undisturbed healing session and you didn't strain yourself nor your magic. I only apologise for not having the correct timetable before."

He blinked, a bit owlishly perhaps, at her. She had saved his life, in more ways than one, and here she was, apologizing for him having slept more than he was supposed to?

The world had to have turned on his axis while he was sleeping, there was no other explanation! It was his role, to apologise for everything ever happened, after all.

Yet, he didn't think she would have liked his version of the events, so he ignored the guilt he felt at the bottom of his stomach: "It's alright, ma'am. I know there was a lot to fix and I thank you for helping me," he said, instead, trying to convey his gratitude as best as he could.

He owed her and the General his life, after all. They deserved more than his meagre thanks.

If he hadn't been messed up to begin with…

"There was nothing wrong with you to begin with, Harry," she interrupted his train of thought, stopping his mind from racing in that direction before it did damage, "It is immensely important to me that you know so. You are a marvel. It is simply other people's faults, but none of yours, that you had to take more time resting than anticipated."

He swallowed a lump in his throat at her words, trying to will the tears away from his eyes, and then nodded, trying then to internalize her words.

One day, perhaps, he would believe them truly, but, for now, he would pretend to do so.

Healer Katara looked at him deeply, before nodding herself. "Now, how hungry are you? I monitored you during the week and administered you nutrients intravenously, but I can bet my entire salary you must be starving!"

And, indeed, he was.

But he had been raised to be wary of admitting his faults, of admitting that he was hungry and scared and hurt. Besides, he had gone weeks in the past with no nutrients at all, the fact that she had taken the time to feed him somehow while he slept had warmed him enough to chase away the pangs of hunger.

Yet, despite it all, his stomach seemed to have a mind of its own: he was just about to comment, to claim that he wasn't that hungry and that he didn't want to be a bother, when it loudly rumbled for the entire world to hear.

Healer Katara laughed deeply as Harry turned scarlet and closed his mouth sheepishly.

Then, as if right on cue, the doors of the Infirmary opened, revealing a smiling General, followed by a trolley full of food, enchanted to move on its own.

"Ah, General, you have arrived just at the right time!" Healer Katara exclaimed happily, raising to her feet and bowing deeply to the General in the goblin salute, which Harry hastily imitated, going as low as he could, "I was about to send for food, since we both are a bit peckish."

She then winked at Harry, who, glad to not have been thrown under the bus, smiled gladly at her.

"Good morning, General," he then said, feeling his cheeks heat up under the old goblin's scrutiny. He knew he didn't exactly look refined, he hadn't even bothered combing his hair and, while his clothes were of great quality and fit him like a glove, he was still a bit uneasy on his feet, not used to properly fitting shoes.

Before arriving at the bank, all of his clothes were either six sizes too big or three sizes too small.

"I do believe it is past morning, child, therefore I salute you with "Good day!"" the General exclaimed, sitting down on one of the chairs and beckoning Harry to the one closer to him.

Harry felt his face burn, a bit horrified at the thought of having slept through the morning. But, he reasoned, if they hadn't woken him up, then there shouldn't have been an issue.

Or, at least, he hoped not.

"How are you, sir?" he asked timidly, fretting with the hem of his shirt as Healer Katara began magically laying the trays of food in front of them.

Back at Privet Drive, it had been his job to do so. Well, it had been his job to do everything.

It was a bit surprising, not having to be the one to do everything. It was shocking, being able to simply stay put and let magic do her work.

It was also amazing.

But it made his insides squirm regardless of how wonderful it all appeared: if he wasn't being put to work and forced to do chores, then how was he supposed to repay their kindness?

"I should ask the question, lad," the General replied good naturedly, pulling him out of his reverie. That did nothing to stop Harry from acting sheepish, though. "I am more than fine, as I believe you might be as well. It has been a hectic week, but a very productive one! I have put away and neutralised an enemy, or rather a thorn on my side, since he was not enticing enough to be considered an enemy. I have personally sowed chaos in the British Ministry of Magic, making sure every single incompetent wix found their way to the door. I have drowned in correspondence, but, mercifully, I have triumphed in my battle against bureaucracy. I have also upturned the Wixen Justice and Juridical system, exposing so much corruption it was surprising how the entire building hadn't rusted yet. I have launched an expedition, led by Healer Blood-bender's husband and her brother, all across England to find and salvage precious artefacts that might have been corrupted by black magic similar to the one we found on you. I have freed from wrong imprisonment your godfather and have him provided with the care he needed, thus resolving the little issue concerning your future guardianship. And I have found a Manager to oversee a team that will aid you in keeping your accounts' books and make heads and tails of your finances, which had been left to fend for themselves since your parent's passing. And I went with my grandchildren to watch the retelling of one of the greatest battles in Goblin history. Overall, a productive week indeed."

Harry was utterly speechless. What the General had listed sounded like life accomplishments, not like something one might do in a week!

Yet again, he doubted anyone had enough power or will or strength like the General, which meant his scale was probably different than Harry's.

Still, he couldn't help his awe, nor refrain it from seeping into his voice: "It's a lot! And all in one week? It's amazing!"

Both the General and Healer Katara chuckled at his reaction, with her ruffling his hair for good measure once more.

"And I have to thank you, General, for all you have done for me," Harry said, honestly, once she had finished her ministration. In his mind, he didn't sound credible with her hands messing his curls, after all, and he needed the General to understand just how much his actions had improved his life.

Again, his insides constricted at the thoughts of how much they had done for him, but he chose to ignore them. After all, the General had mentioned multiple accounts and there had been many Vaults in his Inheritance Test, so he might be able to use the money inside.

If not, well, he'd found a way. He always did.

"You are most welcome. And it was an honour, to take on such a challenge. I am the one who thanks you, for the opportunity," he exclaimed, winking at him behind his gold-rimmed glasses, before grabbing hold of Harry's plate and beginning to fill it with all sorts of foods: he could see sausages and eggs and bacon and toast and vegetables and fruits. Overall, a normal breakfast, despite the late hour, but if they were willing to put up with it, then who was Harry to deny himself!

Especially since his usual meals consisted either of burnt food or of whatever scraps he could salvage from cooking. And he wasn't always lucky enough to eat, even on those occasions.

So, smiling up at the old goblin, he accepted the plate with glee and dug in, enjoying the way the General and Healer Katara conversed as they ate, leaving him space to enjoy his food.

Immediately, his mouth was attacked by flavours he had no recollection of. Spices filled his tongue and warmth steeped in his stomach. And he found it surprising how his stomach was able to… well… stomach every bite.

Usually, when he was forced to dine with the Dursleys or at school, he always had to limit himself, lest he got sick. But, now, after Healer Katara had worked her magic on him, he felt able to fill himself up more than usual, enjoying the different tastes and textures of food.

He had to blink away a few tears that threatened to escape him around a particularly rich mouthful, though, when he realised that, for the first time in his life, his food wasn't bland, or burnt, or made with hatred.

"Now, I do hope you do not mind, but I have contacted a few wixen who would be more than pleased to meet you," the General said, halfway done with his own plate, pulling him out of his musings and incorporating him into the conversation, "and we shall encounter them once we have finished our meal. Would that be alright?"

Harry put his utensils down and stared intensely at his plate, trying to send away the wave of nausea and panic that was threatening to overcome him.

On one hand, he trusted the General completely and, if he believed he would need to meet these people, then he would. He could put on a brave face and behave his best and try and make them see him for who he truly was, just as the General and Healer Katara had: a seven-year-old boy who was trying his best, rather than the criminal freak his relatives made him out to be.

Yet, on the other hand, he couldn't stop fear from churning his brain: What if they hated him? What if they all realised he wasn't worth the time nor the aggravation? What if they convinced the General to send him back to Privet Drive? What if they were worse than the Dursleys?

"I…," he stammered out, unsure of what to say, unsure of whether or not his fears were founded and deserved to be shared, "I don't know, sir."

"If you wish to remain some more in bed to rest, I'm sure Healer Katara will not be averse to the idea."

She smiled kindly at him, taking his hand in hers and drawing comforting circles on the back of it. He hadn't even realised he was shaking. He had learnt how to stay as still as possible, always, at the hands of his Aunt and Uncle and yet, after only a day spent with the goblins and a week asleep, here he was, trembling like a leaf to the wind.

He almost expected the back of his head to roar at him, screaming about how pathetic he was, how he had wasted time and should return back, but he was glad to find it lacking.

"Not entirely, sweetheart, if you feel you truly need the time," Healer Katara said, reassuring him, before continuing, seeing right through his clouded mind: "But I suppose that being tired is not the reason why you are hesitant, is it?"

He ducked his head a bit, in embarrassment, but nodded nevertheless. She was right, as she had been for the entire time he had spent in her presence. "Not really, no," he admitted, feeling a weight lift from his chest as he spoke and was heard, wondering if he could lift another and dissipate his fears, "What if… Well, these people, they are the ones who would take me, right?"

"Amongst others, indeed," the General concurred, eyeing him calmly and reassuringly.

"What if…" he closed his eyes, gathering his courage to ask the crux of his worries, "What if they don't want me?"

The Dursleys had always moaned and complained that he had landed on their doorsteps, completely unwanted. And he had reasoned that they treated him the way they did because he had shown up out of the blue, even if he hadn't been old enough to walk properly yet.

To have other people take him in out of duty or whatever reason the General might have found, that was a terrifying thought. After all, the familial bond that linked him and Aunt Petunia had done nothing to stop her from locking him in the cupboard.

The General seemed to realise his fears, for he too grasped Harry's free hand, holding it with an encouraging weight. He could still move it and even yank it free from the hold, but he didn't want to.

"Harry, I do applaud you on your caution, yet, in this occasion, it is unnecessary," he began, seriously, and made him turn his face around so that he was staring into his eyes, seeing nothing but honesty and care and concern. In those dark pools, Harry realised that the General would have never let him go back into a dangerous situation, nor would have he sent him away into uncertain territory.

And, indeed, his words confirmed his feelings: "You have to understand that your godfather has been kept in captivity for six years, during which time he faced an atrocious and inhumane environment. Nevertheless, the moment he was free of bounds, he demanded to know your whereabouts, since he wanted to ensure your safety. He did not care that he was injured and in need of assistance, he wanted to know you were alright. Do you understand what that means?"

"I think so," Harry nodded, a little taken aback by the concept. He had never had someone who cared about him. He was always the afterthought, the forgotten and disappointing child. Yet, somewhere, close enough that they might meet in moments, was a man who had suffered greatly and, once he was free, had more concerns about him.

The thought alone was wild and scary and amazing and paralysing and all-encompassing, all at the same time.

"It means he will want to see me, right?" he asked, voice too hopeful to try and deny his emotions. He thought people like that existed only in books and in other's lives. He never would have imagined having someone who cared that deeply about him, not in real life.

"Exactly," the General said, smiling widely. Perhaps, to some, it might have been a scary image, given the sharp teeth on display. But Harry had learnt to associate different sights with fear.

Besides, none of the goblins had hurt him nor had given any indication they might. Sure, they had weapons, but Harry thought he would have liked a spear or a sword by his side too, if he was given the opportunity.

Not to use them or anything, but simply because he could.

"Your godfather will be ecstatic to have you live with him and his partner," the General continued, after having taken a sip from his goblet. Or, at least, Harry thought it was a goblet, since it didn't look like an average glass, being metal and oddly shaped. "They had to restrain him from marching in here, until he had been checked thoroughly."

Healer Katara patted his cheek at his baffled expression, chuckling a bit as he turned bewildered towards her. "Do not worry, though, the healers at St. Mungo's, the wixen hospital, healed him completely and, while he might need some counselling, he is more than ready to have you in his life."

"Indeed," the General agreed, putting some more food on their plates, "As for the rest, they all will be overjoyed to meet you. But you don't have to entertain them, if you do not feel ready."

"I think I want to," he admitted with a small smile, feeling a bit sheepish about his earlier mistrust.

If the General and Healer Katara said it was alright, after all, they must have made sure it was indeed alright!

"Excellent! But first, you shall finish your food! A week on potions only is not going to allow you to regain your strength and increase it," the General exclaimed, picking his own cutlery up and motioning for Harry to do the same.

He found it a bit surprising, the space his stomach still had after the first plate, but Healer Katara had said that his organs were now to their supposed sizes, so he figured he had more room than he thought possible. And who was he to disagree with the General, if he said he needed to eat, then eat he shall!

"I would like to talk about the men responsible for blocking your magic and for cursing you, before you interact with the wixen," the General added after a moment of silence, while cutting into his sausage, "Would you be amenable to that?"

"Yes, sir!" came the ecstatic reply, once he had swallowed his mouthful. The Dream he had had was completely gone from his mind, he couldn't recall it at all, but at the back of his head he still remembered that there were important things he had wanted to know. "I want to know about this Dumb Door wizard. And the horror thing, too."

Both the General and Healer Katara stopped in their tracks, him with his hands planted on the table and her with her fork mid-air, frozen in between bites. They stared at each other for a moment, but then Healer Katara simply shrugged, and they resumed their respective activities.

Harry found the situation a bit odd, but he decided not to comment, engrossing himself in the General's tale.

"Well, Harry, I do ask you to indulge this old goblin, and to keep on eating while I talk. I am about to explain everything to the best of my knowledge, but I have to begin quite far. You see, in 1867, a seventeen year old wizard named Gellert Grindelwald was expelled from his school for selling unauthorized substances to his peer, and not for performing illegal Dark Arts as the history books believe, and he moved to a little English town, to stay with his Aunt, as a punishment for his actions. Now, in that town, lived another wizard, sixteen and twinkly-eyed, named Albus Dumbledore…."