"Venerated Lords and Ladies of the Wizengamot," Fudge exclaimed, standing in front of the hurriedly called in Wizengamot, his back straight and his determination showing on his face. "This unscheduled Wizengamot meeting has been called by me to determine the threat Albus Dumbledore is to our world!"
At that, the other Wizengamot members looked at each other with frowns on their faces.
It weren't all Wizengamot members present.
One of the most important members missing were the Malfoys - something that no Death Eater who was sitting in the Wizengamot was surprised about, considering that they believed the Malfoys to be killed by the Order.
Those Wizengamot members who were part of the Order, on the other hand, weren't surprised as well, considering that Snape reported the Malfoys missing without a trace.
Yet, there were still a lot of Wizengamot members present - and some of them hadn't been seen for years… or weren't members at all as far as Fudge knew…
Nevertheless, Fudge continued with his prepared speech to get the Wizengamot members on his side.
"The last article in the Daily Prophet by Oliver Twist," Fudge spoke the name with a grimace. He still wasn't happy about Twist, but after the last article he had at least to admit that Twist could be useful sometimes. "Showed us, that Dumbledore isn't just old and possibly a bit insane like we determined in the last summer - but also very, very dangerous!"
At that, the first Wizengamot members started to object.
It weren't a lot, considering that Dumbledore's followers had dimished over the last half a year, but still, there were some who objected immediately.
"What kind of threat are you talking about, Minister?" one of Dumbledore's people asked with a frown. "He's not a threat! He defeated Grindelwald and he's working against You-Know-Who! We should be grateful that it is him who commands Hogwarts and therefore that potential spy-network and not somebody else!"
Others agreed with that, but Fudge decided to ignore them.
"Think about what kind of power Dumbledore has just thanks to a simple post as a teacher in our most important school!"
"Our only school!" Someone shouted from the back.
"Do you truly want a man, who's old at best, and at worst delusional - in charge of your family secrets?" Fudge continued. "We need to relieve him of his post! If we don't, there will be no stopping him anymore after he unveils his power! If we don't stop him, he will declare himself king of the magical world within the next few years!"
At that, there was a loud laugh from the back of the rows of the Wizengamot.
Everybody present turned to the person in the back - a man in the robes of the Wizengamot embroidered with a crest that hadn't been seen in at least fifteen years.
"You are laughing, Lord…" Fudge trailed off, the name of the man escaping him. Even the crest the man was wearing was foreign to him.
"Lovegood," the man supplied his last name and leaned forward in his seat. "But I am no lord, so 'mister' will do."
Fudge frowned at the man.
"You are wearing the robes of a Wizengamot member," he pointed out, a bit confused.
"I do," Lovegood assured him. "But then, I am a member of this ruling body by proxy, after all."
At that, Lovegood looked around the room as if he was unsure if that was a good thing or not.
"How by Merlin did a commoner get a proxy seat of a Wizengamot member?" One of the dark fraction asked disgusted.
Fudge frowned at that as well. He would have never allowed someone like Lovegood in here as a part of the Wizengamot as a proxy - and yet, Lovegood was here anyway…
Lovegood smiled softly.
"I believe my something great-aunt married into the family," he replied. "Since that makes me the nearest living relative, I am the proxy."
"Surely there should have been someone closer related," Fudge commented with a frown.
Lovegood just shrugged.
"They died, so here I am," then his smile returned and broadened. "And maybe that's good, considering the stupidity that seems to have caught some of the members of this venerable body."
Fudge frowned at that. He somehow felt insulted, even if he wasn't actually sure why.
"I assure you, we are all quite intelligent in here," he finally settled on to say.
The other man just laughed at that again.
"You told us that you want to stop Dumbledore because you believe he wants to take up the crown," Lovegood pointed out, still amused.
"Because that's the most logical conclusion - especially after all the evidence Oliver Twist gave us in his article!" Fudge exclaimed.
Lovegood just raised his eyebrow at that.
"Evidence that he wants the crown?" he asked Fudge amused. "He doesn't want the crown - and even if he wanted to, the Eternal Prince wouldn't let him have it. And you don't want to get the Prince mad - not him, never him."
There was a half insane smile in the Lovegood's face when he told them that.
Fudge frowned.
"What by Merlin are you talking about, Lovegood?" He growled at the man in the back.
Lovegood leaned forward even further.
"There's just so much I could be talking about," he said smiling amused. "But I'm only here for one thing to say. I warn you, Fudge, and I warn you now: Don't play with the Prince - but then, I guess considering what my daughter said about your toady, that's a way too late warning, isn't it, Minster?"
With that, Lovegood stood up.
"The Potter proxy votes for the banning of Albus Dumbledore from Hogwarts," he declared and then walked away, with a last mumbled. "Not that it matters what it's decided here, considering that the Wizengamot doesn't have any say in Hogwarts at all…"
With that, he left.
Fudge stared after the man for a second or two, before finally returning to his speech and the following vote on the Wizengamot - a vote that, thanks to Lovegood ended one more in favour for Dumbledore's removal from Hogwarts as Fudge had ever thought to dream of…
Amelia Bones watched the man who was the Potter proxy leaving the Wizengamot with shaded eyes.
Potter.
Somehow it always came back to the Potter family…
She looked at the rest of the Wizengamot, her eyes tracking the different members. There, in the corner was Moody, the ex-auror and one of the toughest men that she knew.
A few rows in front of Amelia sat Augusta Longbottom, her back stiff and she was clearly quite unimpressed by Fudge - even if she voted for Dumbledore's release from Hogwarts in the end…
And next to Amelia?
Next to her sat a man who had never been in his seat at the Wizengamot ever before.
Said man leaned back in his chair and looked at the procedure with with hooded eyes.
"So…" he mumbled to himself while looking at Fudge. "This is the venerable minister."
Then he scoffed.
"That man has no idea what it means to fight. This man has never seen what it means to stand next to a legend, next to someone so… unbelievable that you just have to believe in him and follow him," he shook his head. "No, Fudge is a blind idiot - he won't outlast the day our alliance will form."
Amelia looked at her neighbour in amusement.
"You sound so sure about the return of Sal Sanctuary," she whispered while leaning back in her seat as well and turning out Fudge's speech.
The man next to her chuckled.
"Of course I am," he replied. "I met him at Diagon Alley nearly half a year ago and I know that he will want revenge on Dumbledore for Grindelwald - and maybe for Voldemort as well. It's not because Dumbledore slighted him, no, it's because of them -"
With that, he nodded towards Moody and then towards Augusta.
"Others suffered - and he won't stop until their suffering has been atoned for."
And Amelia couldn't object to that thought process considering that she held a grudge for the death of her brother and sister-in-law as well - two deaths Dumbledore had been involved in even indirectly. No, Amelia understood grudges, and she couldn't blame Augusta or others for not being able to let go. But then, she wasn't enough of a hypocrite to lie to herself about her own grudge for the death of her family and her inability to let it go…
"So we're about to change our world, huh?" She asked, slightly amused.
The answer was an amused smile from the man to her right.
"We are," he agreed. "And here in this room are our allies -" He nodded towards Augusta. "And our enemies." His hand gestured towards the still speaking Fudge. "And maybe, just maybe, we will come out to a new world in the end."
And Amelia, who had seen the memories of the man, who had seen the last war and had seen the corruption of the government and the laid-back attitude Dumbledore showed, agreed without hesitation.
It was time for a new world.
It was time for a change.
And Amelia would be a part of it - but not alone, never alone.
Instead, she had allied herself with a person nobody had ever thought to see in the Wizengamot at all.
Garrick Ollivander.
And the man next to her smiled.
Harry Potter was currently sitting in a quiet corner of the common room, working on the wards of the castle. He was done with the wards that would find him the Horcrux, but he was still working on the true wards of the castle - those that the wards the current Headmaster had added supressed. Harry knew that to activate the old wards, he would have to destroy the unprofessionally woven wards the old man had implemented on top of the original wards of Hogwarts.
"What a mess," Harry mumbled while working through the ward schemes with a frown on his face. "What an absolute mess…"
Sadly, Dumbledore wouldn't be the one to fix it - instead, this would be Harry's task.
"Such an absolutely horrible mess…"
Maybe, Harry would have been once lenient, when it came to one Albus Dumbledore. After all, he knew from experience, not everybody was born to be active against a Dark Lord.
Not everybody was born to be a protector, fighter and healer.
Albus Dumbledore, Harry had figured a long, long time ago, was one of those people who weren't.
And maybe, Harry would have been able to forgive him.
Maybe, Harry would have been able to accept what the man had done, what the man hadn't done and what mistakes he had made.
Maybe - yet, it shouldn't be.
Harry could have forgiven his childhood.
Harry could have forgiven his years at Hogwarts and the neglect he faced.
It had been thousands of years, after all, since it all happened - and Harry had long since then learned how to forgive, how to live and how to accept the past.
He had also long since learned that mistakes were part of being human - and not everybody was born to see more than their own world view…
And yet…
"Maybe," Harry thought while plotting out the setting of the wards he planned to add to Hogwarts within the next few days. It was just a few days before Christmas and soon, the most of the children would have left Hogwarts to return to their families. "Maybe forgiving him was never the path I could have taken…"
Not after Grindelwald.
Not after Voldemort.
And especially not after his neglect of Hogwarts…
The most damning thing against Dumbledore?
A list of seventy-two names - the most of them known to the Headmaster - that was hidden away in Harry's trunk. Seventy-two names, a hundred and six detentions Harry's spell had recorded since he had spoken the spell on Umbridge torture device.
Every child had been approached by Harry, every child had been adviced by him to report the professor by their Heads of House or the Headmaster himself. Not all of them had listened, but enough had done what he had asked of them and either went to their Heads or to the Headmaster himself - and yet, nothing had happened…
"We can't do anything," Albus Dumbledore had dismissed those reports.
"I don't have the power to stop her…"
"We just have to tell the children that they will have to keep their head down this year," he told the other teachers - and they listened, like always.
Those teachers who had been approached listened until the children gave up reporting.
Harry closed his eyes in disgust, returning his attention to his wards instead of the list in his trunk.
"Harry," Harry looked up to see Ron standing in front of him, hesitatingly looking down upon him. "What are you doing?"
With a silent switching spell, Harry exchanged his ward scheme with his charm's homework.
"Working on my homework," he said slowly, lying through his teeth while at the same time not lying at all - the ward scheme was something akin to homework for him, after all.
Ron frowned.
It was clear that he wasn't sure if he could believe him or not.
Ron had stopped to be so suspicious of Harry some time ago. The other boy was more of a live-and-let-live person, after all, but that didn't mean that he couldn't read between the lines - especially with a boy he had known for the last four years. Even with all the experience added to Harry, there were still some tell-tale signs that someone who knew him could read and interpret, after all. As odd as it sounded, while a lot of things had changed about Harry, some things were still the same - or after all this time the same again, who knew?
Harry ignored Ron's slight suspicion - and maybe would have ignored the other boy fully if said boy hadn't found his courage and spoken up a second time…
"May I… join you?" He finally asked hesitatingly, and while Harry still wasn't too happy with him for his spying on him and the fact that Ron still listened to Hermione somewhat even now, he also knew that the other boy was still a child - and once had been Harry Potter's best friend…
"Of course," he said and when the other boy smiled, he made some place on his table so that Ron could sit down and pull out his homework as well. It wasn't something Ron would usually do, but obviously, the other boy knew that stopping Harry from working wouldn't get over well right now and therefore decided to follow Harry's example instead of trying to stop him.
It didn' take long for Hermione to notice them and her coming up to them and sitting down next to Ron to do her homework as well. Harry was slightly more annoyed by her intrusion, considering that Ron had stopped bothering him while Hermione seemed to find something new to complain about every time they did something together, but Harry refrained from saying anything.
Like Ron, Hermione was a child and once his best friend - and even if nobody else would have gotten another chance in Harry's books, he would at least tolerate her as long as she didn't budge into his business ever again.
Considering that she didn't talk and didn't take a second look at Harry's homework - or his ward scheme, now glamoured to look like his potion's essay - Harry guessed that she could stay at their table for now.
They worked in silence for a while - at least, until suddenly, Hogwarts did something, it hadn't done since Harry had arrived there in the current time.
It reached out to him.
He saw a flash of a detention of Umbridge, with a little second year Hufflepuff cutting open her had thanks to that evil quill.
Then there was another flash of the girl leaving, swaying on her feet and a flash of Hogwarts trying to reach out to the Headmaster - the Deputy currently not in Hogwarts - just to be rejected by the busy mind of the Headmaster…
"Umbridge," Harry snarled mentally, but the next flash distracted him from his ire.
This flash wasn't like the ones before - it was more like a calling from a long missed precious person, urging, begging and pleading for him to hurry.
It was his atr calling him.
It was the dormand wards begging him.
It was his oaths - three times pledged to protect the castle and its inhabitants - that called him out.
And Harry was far too connected to his magic to dismiss their urging.
"By the Gods!" Harry swore, jumping up and toppling over the stair he had been sitting on.
"Harry?" Hermione looked up from her homework, startled. "What's going on?"
"I have to go," Harry answered, not bothering to elaborate, then he turned around and vanished through the portait hole. As soon as he was around the next corner, he started running. He ran down the hall, hissed at one of the tiny snakes in a corner and vanished in the secret passages of the school.
He had to hurry.
Whatever had happened, it was grave - he could feel it in the urge that was pushing him. He could feel it in the air around him - pleading to him to hurry up…
He speeded up.
His breath was shallow, his lungs burning. But he had no time, no time…
He reached the corridor to the hospital wing. With another hiss he tumbled out of the wall, back into the known corridors of the school.
He was dusty and dirt was sticking to his robes. The secret passages he had used hadn't been the cleanest ones - not that he cared; not that it stopped him.
His feet were carrying him down the corridor to his destination as fast as he could.
"Potter!" A man's voice barked.
Snape.
But Harry had no time to stop.
He ignored it, his blood humming, summoning him with all its power to aid.
"Potter! No running in the corridors! Twenty points from Gryffindor!"
The professor might have changed - but he hadn't changed enough to not try to punish Harry for something Harry actually did do. And maybe, if it had been any other time, Harry would have minded the harsh and cold tone of voice of the professor - but not now, not with his atr 's voice in his mind, calling and begging him.
Hurry up! His father's voice urged him without a sound. Hurry up, my child!
He speeded up even more. Then he reached the last corner.
A hand was reaching for him, but he dodged and flew around the corner.
There it was. Five steps from him. Four. Two…
He grasped the doorframe and pulled himself in the room behind it.
There, in the corner of the room in the white sheets of a bed a still form was lying.
The medi-witch was standing next to it, uttering spells as fast as she could. She was sweating, trembling and nearly exhausted.
"Umbridge!" Harry mentally cursed.
The child in the bed was unmoving, pale and painted with crimson.
And all of that was Umbridge's fault!
Umbridge and her damn quill!
Even with the spell Harry had put on it, it didn't change the fact that by overuse of the quill, the child would suffer anyway - exactly like the girl in the bed in front of him.
Umbridge was dead !
Especially since the bloodloss had led to the girl's fall down the stairs - a fall, that might end up deadly because no matter how good Madam Pomphrey was, she was still just a medi-witch and not a healer.
Harry took the last steps to the bed in one stride and reached out for the medi-witch, fighting for the girl's life.
"Stop," he said softly, while at the same time he took out his staff and started to draw runes on the floor. "You're not able to heal the child in your condition."
Harry knew, that he shouldn't be able to do so as well - but he also knew that calling St. Mungo's wouldn't help. The girl wouldn't survive the wait for a healer from the hospital.
There was just one choice.
Even if that choice would expose that he wasn't the same Harry Potter who had gone to school here just a few months ago…
Harry's fingers closed over the medi-witches hands, stopping her wand from moving.
The medi-witch's hands trembled beneath his fingers, but the moment she felt his touch, she snapped out of her feverish spell-casting.
"Mr Potter," she said, but he just shook his head and pushed gently her aside.
"You're not able to help the child," he repeated sternly. "You're a medi-witch - not a healer."
For a second, Madam Pomphrey looked blankely at him. Then she blinked, returning to the present.
"I have to… St. Mungo's…" she mumbled and wanted to turn around to reach the fireplace in her office.
In that moment Harry ended the rune-chain he had been drawing and activated it.
A soft glowing shield surrounded him and the medi-witch, stopping her from reaching the office and the fireplace within it.
Then the doors of the hospital wing banged open again and Snape stormed in, looking like a fury.
"Mr Potter!" he boomed and stopped dead in his tracks when he saw the shining shield that surrounded Harry, Madam Pomfrey and the tiny second-year Hufflepuff girl in the bed.
"Don't come any closer," Harry said coolly to his professor while he slipped out of his robes and put them down on the bed next to him. "I don't have time to battle against a vengeance searching teacher at the moment."
And with that he turned around to the Hufflepuff girl and ripped open her clothing.
"Mr Potter!" Madam Pomfrey cried and tried to stop him.
"I need to see what I am doing," Harry snapped, stopping her. "When you hinder me, I will banish you from my healing circle. I have enough to do without you interrupting me!"
The medi-witch stopped and stared at him.
"You're a student, Mr Potter. You have no experience in…"
Harry turned her out. Instead he took out one of his normally hidden knives and used it to fully open the clothing of the girl.
Again he drew some runes on the floor and activated them. A dome of different coloured magic surrounded him and the girl, shutting out and stopping the medi-witch who had desperatedly tried to stop Harry from removing the girl's clothing.
The moment he had ensured that she couldn't hinder him anymore thanks to the second dome of magic he had created, Harry actively studied the dome and the runes and hieroglyphs that were floading between the colours.
This method of diagnosing might have been in Harry's repertoire for longer than he was inclined to think back - but it was still the most effective… especially because Harry was able diagnose it within seconds thanks to familiarity.
Crashed ribcage. One rib was puncturing the lung. Her liver and one of her kidneys were bleeding. Her heart was fluttering, nearly losing the fight against the injuries. Her brain was swelling and her spine broken.
Considering that she had fallen down nearly three floors before she had been caught by one of the moving stairs, Harry guessed that her injuries were expected…
Not that those were all injuries she had.
One of her hands was also smashed, one of her legs broken and she had several bruises and cuts - but those were things a medi-witch could treat, so Harry turned them out.
Instead he drew several new runes on the floor to disinfect every thing in their range - the runes also were shutting the door to stop anyone from entering and contaminating the hospital wing - and then took out his knife again.
"Mr Potter!" the medi-witch cried but a simple rune from the dorm surrounding him, stopped her from touching him. Harry ignored her horrified gasp and the shouting of his professor while he disinfected the knife in his hands.
For a second, he looked at the body of the girl. Then he closed his eyes for a second, centuring his breath while preparing himself for the operation he had to conduct mentally.
Another second later, he placed the knife and started to cut open the skin of the girl.
He stopped after a few inches and used the blood that was turning her chest even more crimson than the already drying blood of her cuts to apply runes to her forehead, her wrists and her ankles. Then he applied some runes in her blood to his own forehead and forearms before cutting open his own wrist and appliying some runes in his blood on her body.
"Mr Potter!" There was horror in Madam Pomphrey's and something cutting in Snape's voice.
Harry ignored both, even when the medi-witch tried to reach out to him again, just to be stopped by his wards like the first time.
Harry didn't even bother to react to her try.
Instead, he closed his cut and continued with a gentle bone breaker spell to the girl's head. This wasn't something someone untrained or an inexperienced healer could do. Gentling spells was nothing a person could learn over night. It was part of a control of one's magic that took years if not decades to learn.
But Harry had used spells in this version for longer than that.
He also knew he had no time to tread the brain now because she was losing her life through the other injuries so he had to give her brain some space until he could treat it…
Nevertheless, his spell - spoken for better control - scared both of the 'adults' in the room witless.
The medi-witch and professor immediately tried to penetrate his shields with magic, both of them shouting and pale as a ghost.
"Stop it, Mr Potter! You will kill her!"
The potion professor even tried to turn around and leave the hospital wing to get the Headmaster - but all their attemps were fruitless. The doors of the hospital wing had shut down when Harry activated the disinfection circle and did not yield even to magic.
And Harry?
He wasn't deterred from his path as all, far too used to people trying to stop or interrupted him over the centuries he had been a healer in the past.
So instead of startling or worrying, he simply opened the chest of the little girl to reach the young girl's ribs.
The first thing he did was to vanish the rib that was puncturing her lung. The lung was bloody and her heart fluttered even more. Harry had her in stasis so that she didn't lose any more blood but he knew that even stasis did not stop her dying fully.
Because of that he had to heal her life-threatening injuries first.
He didn't hesitate when he used his bare, by magic sterilised hands to reach in her body. With a flick of his fingers, the blood on the lungs was removed and held at bay. Then he started to draw blue glowing, magical runes on her lungs. When the rune-circle was finished, he activated it and the lung started slowly to heal. He checked the healing process for a moment, then he continued with the other organs.
It was in the process of drawing the runes on her kidney, when the colours of the net around him changed. The girl's heart gave in and stopped.
Harry reacted instantly. He destroyed his started rune-chain and turned to the heart. He needed the heart to aid him with his healing. A rune-chain that healed a body was depending on the bloodflow. A stopped heart would destroy all the work he had done if he did not treat it instantly.
The curse he whispered was a dark one - not an unforgivable but definitely banned by the ministry. He didn't care. The spell he used worked like the electricity the Muggles used - and that was enough for him to know.
"Mr Potter!" Snape snarled in the back of Harry. "Stop it this instant! Torturing a little girl in that condition -"
Harry turned him out, concentrating on the girl's heart instead.
Nothing.
No reaction.
He used the spell a second time.
A moment of silence, just broken by the horrified cries of the nurse and the growls of the potion professor - and then the heart suddenly started to beat again.
Stunned silence in his back from both - potion's master and medi-witch.
Harry looked at the beating heart for a moment, then he sighed and checked his rune-chains on the other organs. None of them had been broken.
Good.
He turned to the kidney again. Three minutes later another working rune-chain was starting to fix this injury.
Now her head - finally…
He ignored her open chest and turned to her swollen brain and the broken skull. The broken skull was his fault, but it had been the best thing to do - and it was easily fixed later. He ignored the broken pieces of her skull - none of them hurting the brain or anything else important in any way or form - and instead started to draw runes in the air above her. Then his bloody fingers touched her temples and the runes activated. He could feel the runes sinking in her head. They touched the brain and the swelling slowly reduced.
Harry sighed in relive and added a rune to stabilise her skull until he had time to heal it. A broken skull was easier to mend than a spine - so the spine came first…
Now the spine…
He looked up at the net of the dome.
The dome with its different colours and symbols not only told him the injuries, but also if and how he could move the body without damaging it further. It was that feature, that helped him most with the spine. And while a broken spine would have ended by a non-magical in a wheelchair, a skilled healer could heal nerves as long as the injury was fresh.
So Harry used his diagnostic dome to righten the girl until her spine was straight again. Then he closed his eyes, took a deep breath and touched her shoulders with his hands. With trembling fingers he followed her body line while rightening the nerves and bones with magic, mentally using his own spine as a reverence. The spine was still broken but it was sitting right again and the nerves were like they should be.
After the spine and the nerves were in the right position again, he froze it like it was now with magic and turned to the ribcage.
The most of it he also just froze with magic in the place it belonged. He was exhausted - his own unhealthy body acting up, still not well after all this time; Hallowe'en's ritual still robbing him of the strength he normally had - and saw no meaning in fixing the bones fully when there were potions and spells that could do it after he banished the stasis runes.
So he simply turned to the chest of the girl again, looked over the now mended organs and started to close the cut he had made until it simply was a flesh wound. Then he stopped. There was nothing that a medi-witch could not do by herself now.
He coughed and then simply destroyed the rune-circles around the bed.
Then he stumbled to the bed next to the child's and sat down.
"Mr Potter!" the potion master barked and turned to him, storming to his side. "What did you do?!"
At the same time the medi-witch hurried to the child's side and started to cast spells on her, checking the girl's health frantically and clearly afraid of what she would find.
Harry's eyes nearly dropped from exhaustion while he curled up when he coughed again quite strongly. For a second, he was fighting for his next breath, then his eyes closed and he gulped in air.
His hands started shaking.
Damn Hallowe'en ritual and its consequences!
"Mr Potter!" the potion master barked again, not that Harry could actively focus on him in that moment. "What did you think you were doing, you imbecile? If the girl dies because of you I will personally bring you to Azkaban! How could -?!"
"Severus," Madam Pomfrey interrupted him in that moment. "Stop!"
"Poppy - this imbecile -"
"- saved this child's life," Madam Pomfrey finished the potion professor's sentence softly before she turned to Harry, who was still taking slow and deliberate breaths.
She frowned at that, but obviously decided that fighting with him over his own wellbeing could wait for a moment and other things were more important to know.
"How, Mr Potter?" she asked him, ignoring his heavy breaths for now. "You're a student. You shouldn't be able to rescue her. I couldn't - and I'm a trained medi-witch!"
Harry sighed. He knew he shouldn't tell her but he also knew that Dumbledore would find out if he didn't tell her something she could accept.
"A medi-witch isn't trained for something like that. Even St. Mongo's would have had trouble to save her life," he finally said.
"Then why did you even attempt to heal her?!" Snape sneered, clearly intend to insult Harry again. Sadly, for him, Harry currently hadn't the patience to deal with one of Snape's rants and therefore interrupted him before the potion's master could get any further.
"Because I am not a medi-wizard but a healer," Harry answered coolly. "Hogwarts knew Madame Pomfrey would be unable to aid the child so it called me here."
"What are you talking about, Potter?!" Snape snapped. "Why should the school -"
"Why do you think I was running through the corridors like Riddle and Grindelwald together were hot on my heels, professor?" Harry asked irritated. "I ran here and started healing as soon as I reached the child - do you really think I would have done something like that without knowing that something had happened that needed my aid?! I was in Gryffindor tower just a few minutes before I got here!"
Snape snorted.
"So you tell me that Hogwarts is communicating with you, Potter?!" Snape sneered.
Harry sighed again. He wished he could sleep, far too exhausted for such a simple - for his experience at least - healing ritual, but he knew that the medi-witch and the potion professor wouldn't let him be right now.
At least not without getting all the answers they were after, first.
Oh well, it wasn't as if Harry would be able to not be found out for forever…
Also, his plan was well on its way. Even if he was found out now, there would be no stopping it anymore in time…
" Atr, show the professor, please," he finally said softly.
Snape started to sneer again, clearly about to comment about Harry's sanity or lack there off considering that Harry was speaking to the empty air, when he suddenly flinched. His eyes widened and he stared at Harry.
Clearly, the wards had given him the same urging feeling Harry had felt all his way from Gryffindor tower to the hospital wing.
"Believe me now, Professor?" Harry asked softly.
Snape just stared at him - and suddenly Harry could feel a mind trying to enter his own. He sneered at Snape and this time brought down his Occlumency barrier with so much force that the professor could feel it. Snape flinched again and withdrew hastily.
"How…? You are rubbish at Occlumency, Potter!" he snarled.
Harry just snorted.
"Normally, I hide my shields, Professor," he corrected and then turned to the medi-witch who was silently healing the rest of the girl's wounds.
"You need to fix her bones with potions - but wait some hours before you do so. The magic I used to heal her internal injuries needs time to settle," he told her, deciding to ignore Snape in favour to explaining the upcoming treatment of the girl's injuries.
For a moment, the medi-witch send him an indefinable look, but then, she nodded slowly, as if accepting a silent conclusion she had come to while reassessing the girl after his treatment of her.
Obviously, her conclusion had been a good one, because at the end of his instructions, she didn't tell him that he couldn't order her around - instead, she treated him like a collegue.
"Something else I should know, Mr Potter?" the medi-witch asked him professionally.
Harry nodded slightly at her - not only an answer to her question but also a gesture to show he understood and agreed to her treatment of him.
"Don't move her and stop her from moving for the next day. After that she's allowed to move in bed but should not get up for the rest of the week," Harry answered her tiredly while trying to dismiss the odd feeling of instructing a woman he knew for a fact had monitored his mother while she had been pregnant with him.
For a moment, Madam Pomphrey looked at him thoughtfully after hearing those words, then her gaze sharpened and she narrowed her eyes at him.
Harry mentally groaned.
Obviously his short break from the inquisition was up.
Time to bring out the big guns…
But first, it was time for the medi-witch or the potion's professor to make their move.
In the end, it was the medi-witch that started it.
"Would you mind telling us how you were able to heal her when I couldn't?" she asked.
"I am a healer," Harry repeated and when the potion master and the medi-witch just stared at him coolly he sighed again and tipped his chest to activate a visible form of his healer's oath on it. The light of the runic circle shone bright even in the brightly lit hospital wing.
Nothing, absolutely nothing was as damning and as liberating as showing this oath.
There was no way faking a healer's oath, there was no way at gaining it in any other way but through hard work and knowledge.
In was unquestionable, undisputable and at the same time for Harry undeniable. He couldn't run from it, he couldn't ignore it. This oath - as different as it was to the normal healer's oath considering that he was a guardian healer - was and would be forever part of him, bound to him like it was bound to every other healer on the planet.
For a moment, Snape and the Medi-Witch just stared at his chest, then the potions master reached out and touched the glowing circle. The circle flashed, proving itself true and powerful to the searching magic of a sworn potion's master and Snape withdrew his hands. His black eyes looked up from Harry's chest into Harry's eyes.
"You are not Potter," he stated.
Harry knew why the potions master said that. As a potions master, Snape was sworn to aid healers in their quest, but at the same time his own oath would react to a healer's oath and tell him exactly how important it was to aid this particular healer. The more experience, the more important a healer was because with more experience he would be comanding more healers in a grave situation and at the same time he would be given more complicated cases to treat.
Harry was quite sure that his oath was telling the potions master to obey without asking if the need arose - exactely like it had done for millennia now.
"You are not quite wrong and at the same time not quite right with your statement," Harry corrected his potion's professor shrugging.
Snape sneered, clearly not believing Harry at all.
"Potter's no healer - and especially not one as experienced as you," he disputed Harry's correction icily.
Harry just smiled.
"You might have been right if you were talking about the Potter-child you taught for the last four years," he agreed. "But then, I am said Potter-child - and I am a healer."
Snape's sneer deepened.
"You are babbling, Potter," he told his student disgusted.
Harry just sighed.
He knew that if he wanted to, he would be able to find a solution to Snape's accusations - especially considering that Snape had already met his Head of House and had agreed to follow him.
But Harry didn't want to.
No, lying to the other man right now would just shatter the fragile trust Snape had placed in his new Head of House the moment the Potter family would return to the Wizengamot.
And Harry wasn't willing to be seen as the same unreliable creature as Dumbledore and Riddle were…
So he did the only thing he could: he settled on the truth - damn the consequences!
"I'm telling you the truth," he replied calmly to Snape's accusation. "I meant what I said. I am the Potter-child you have been referring to, but at the same time, I'm not him as well."
"That doesn't make sense, Mr. Potter," the nurse pointed out and Harry rubbed his nose.
"Let's just say that the incident with the Dementors in summer had a little bit more consequences than the public knows."
There wouldn't be many people Harry would ever tell the truth - but in this instant it was the best thing he could do while hoping that neither Snape nor Madam Pomphrey would run to Dumbledore with said truth.
Harry trusted Snape to keep silent.
And Harry guessed, that he trusted Pomphrey as well - especially because both of them could be easily bound by their oaths and the fact that Harry was their superior and the knowledge they would gain from him had some medical consequences. His trip through time wasn't just a personal matter, but also a public one - and one that ended with him in a dire medical condition.
Of course, like every oath in the medical part of the wizarding world, the hows and whys someone had ended up in a condition were protected by it if the person in question didn't allow the circumsances to be known.
Getting Snape and Pomphrey to treat him was even easier - especially because he was still forcefully regulating his breathing if he wasn't about to cough up a lung or two…
"A little more consequences?" Pomphrey asked, sounding disturbed while Snape raised a disbelieving eyebrow.
"Consequences that made you an expert potions master and healer, Potter?" he asked snidely just seconds after the medi-witch.
Harry inclined his head.
"Exactly, Professor," he replied, not bothering to elaborate as long as neither Pomphrey nor Snape asked the right questions.
Snape just sneered again.
"I can't think of any consequences that would make someone inept like you into a potions master and a healer over night," he replied icily. "Maybe you want to tell me that Merlin himself visited you at night and taught you all he knew? Maybe you want to tell me that you're super-smart and just hid your IQ until now? Or maybe you hid yourself away in Hogwarts library and learned all day and night?"
Harry laughed.
"No, Professor," he said. "Knowledge is all fine and well, but you need experience to actually be able to do those things I just did. It's experience that forms the character and truly leads to knowledge. Book-learning is good and fine, but it's not enough. You can't just learn from books, hidden away in a dark and dinky room with nothing but the spiders to keep you company. Theoretical knowledge will never lead to you knowing exactly what to do in a real life experience."
"Then how did you learn, Potter?" Snape asked as snidely as before. "As far as I know you never left your aunt's at the summer."
Harry looked at the potions master in amusement.
"I left her home," he said. "I didn't return to her home for quite some years. It's just that the way I left, means that everyone else didn't notice since in the end I was never not there."
Snape's eyes narrowed, but the nurse's widened.
Obviously, her brain had been faster than Snape's in connecting the dods and seeing the whole picture Harry was painting for them.
"You time-travelled," she said, paling. "Do you know how dangerous this could have been? Have you ever thought about the consequences of such actions? The ministry banned time-travel for a reason, Mr. Potter!"
Harry inclined his head.
"I am quite aware what happened to Donzelh Eloise," he replied. "But unlike her, I was aware of the laws of time."
" Donzelh Eloise?" both, Snape and the medi-witch asked sharply.
Harry frowned thoughtfully at the ceiling.
"Eloise Mintumble," he finally declared. "She was an Unspeakable and the best friend of my grandfather Fleamont Charlus Potter. She jumped back to the fourteen hundreds and unlike me, she didn't even try to understand how time-travel works."
When Madam Pomphrey looked at him sceptically, he just sighed.
"I know my arithmancy, Madam," he said. "I did the calculations and I never played with the fire. I was fine, Madam."
"Still, Mr. Potter!" She said. "This has to be reported! You will get in serious trouble for -"
Well, if she wanted to play it like that - Harry would play it like that. And if there were some things that would stay omitted and therefore could be considered a half-truth - well, Harry wasn't the Slytherin for nothing…
"It's reported," he said amused, not elaborating that the report had been made millenia later than it should have been made. But then, on the other hand, Harry had told his father the moment he met him - and the moment they found out - so you could see it as 'reported' from the start as well… "And I didn't get in any trouble. Accidental magic isn't punishable by the law."
Snape stared at him at that penetratingly.
"So you want to make us believe that you didn't play with magic you shouldn't have touched, Potter?" He said disbelievingly.
Harry just raised an eyebrow.
"Do you want to accuse me of playing with magic while I was fighting for my life?" He countered. "I was a mere boy of fifteen. Tell me, Professor, do you really think that I had the knowledge to do something as powerful and complicated as time-travel on the spur of a moment while at the same time fighting of Dementors?"
The potions Professor pressed his thin lips together.
"I do not," he finally relented under Harry's stare.
"So I guess that we can agree that the whole thing had to be accidental, don't we?" Harry replied coolly.
For a moment, the medi-witch as well as the potion's master were silent.
Then Snape growled.
"I guess so, Potter," he gave in, his voice very icy and clearly unhappy that he had to admit that Harry might have a good argument at hand.
Harry snorted, amused with the professor before leaning forward, while taking a deep, forcibly calm breath.
"There is no guessing it, Professor," he told the disagreeable man calmly. "Back then, I was an arrogant, idiotic child who knew nothing about the world. I was wilfully blind to somethings and too undereducated to see others. In other words: I was a child. A young and stupid little child."
Then Harry's green eyes met the dark ones of the Professor, holding his gaze and willing him to see what the man - even after the Occlumency lesson they shared - was still too blind to see… or maybe it wasn't just blindness. Maybe the Professor was suffering from the same wilfully blind behaviour that Harry had been guilty of in the past.
The Professor's eyes narrowed at Harry.
Then, they suddenly widened.
"You're him, aren't you?" He whispered in disbelief. "You're -"
" - the one who's been calling you home, yes," Harry agreed.
For a moment, the silence between them spread, then Snape shook his head, for the first time forgetting his attitude in favour to his confusion.
"But why?" He asked. "I'm -"
" - still family," Harry interrupted him. "And like anybody else in that room back then allowed to finally have what you've been craving for so long."
Snape fell silent at that - something that Madam Pomphrey took as her cue to butt in.
"What exactly is going on here?" She asked with narrowed eyes. "What have you two been talking about right now?"
Harry turned to her and smiled innocently.
"More than you need to know, Madam," he replied amused. "For now, I guess, it should be enough for you to know that I'm back in my right time - and that it's high end that I will follow my own path and not the one drawn in the sand by the Headmaster for me."
Madam Pomphrey's eyes narrowed further.
"What are you talking about, Potter?" She wanted to know icily. "Albus Dumbledore is a good man who has always had your best interest in heart!"
Harry just raised an eyebrow at that.
"So you think ensuring that an eleven-year-old goes after the Philosopher's stone is 'having my best interest in heart'?" He countered.
The good medi-witches eyes nearly bugged out when hearing that.
"I'm… I'm quite sure he did everything to ensure that you would be kept away from such dangerous things!" She finally exclaimed horrified.
Harry snorted.
"The challenges to keep people away were a Devil's Snare, a giant chess-set, flying keys, a troll, a logic puzzle and a mirror - and from that, only the mirror was a true challenge unless you actually didn't want to use the Philosopher's stone… because then it would be child's play."
Madam Pomphrey stared at him, uncomprehendingly.
"You're… you're joking, aren't you, Potter?" She asked and shivered. "The Devil's Snare is a first year plant!"
"And Potter already proved that he could take on a troll way before the challenges were even fully formed! He showed it on Hallowe'en for heaven's sake!" Snape exclaimed, for the first time looking thoughtful.
"Exactly," Harry agreed coolly.
"That doesn't prove anything, Mr Potter!" Madam Pomphrey objected.
Harry shrugged.
"Like Dumbledore being unable to find out that the monster in Slytherin's Chamber is a basilisk and the fact that the entrance is the death place of the one girl who died thanks to the gaze of the basilisk - a girl who died while Albus Dumbledore was already teaching at Hogwarts, meaning that not knowing who she was is out of question for him!" He countered icily.
Madam Pomphrey paled and even Snape looked as if he felt sick.
"A basilisk!" The medi-witch exclaimed even more horrified. "That creature is one of the most dangerous creatures in the world! We would have evacuated the school if we had known!"
Harry just raised an eyebrow at the medi-witch.
"It is and the teachers should have considering that Albus Dumbledore should have known what kind of monster was sleeping in the bowls of the school!"
"How should he have known -"
"The monster is… if you believe the legend, that is… Slytherin's monster - Slytherin! - what was Slytherin most known for except of being a dark wizard?"
It was Snape who answered that question.
"He's a Parselmouth," he answered with a frown. "That's a well known fact!"
"Exactly," Harry agreed coolly. "Slytherin was a Parselmouth - so what kind of creature could be his 'monster'?"
Snape closed his eyes.
"A snake," he whispered, obviously thinking about the implications for the first time. "A basilisk - because that's the most dangerous snake on earth."
Harry smiled grimly.
"Twenty points to Slytherin for a conclusion within two minutes of something the current Headmaster couldn't find out for fifty years," he said with a sigh.
Madam Pomphrey pressed a hand to her mouth.
"But -"
"He knew where the girl died. He knew what the monster was - and yet, it was I who was forced to rescue the school," Harry commented.
"The Headmaster doesn't speak Parseltongue," Madam Pomphrey argued.
"Yet he knew that there was a child in school who could, a child whom he could have asked for help after the first attack," Harry replied harshly. "Or he could have found another Parselmouth within the last fifty years - after all, the Slytherin line isn't the only one who has Parselmouths in the family."
At that, Madam Pomphrey looked a bit helplessly at Snape who looked quite pale.
"The Headmaster wouldn't let the children suffer - not without having no other choice!" she finally argued, but it was half-heartedly.
"Yet, there were dementors at school in my third year," Harry replied. "I'm quite sure a lot of children suffered that year!"
"This was the decision of the Ministry, Potter," Snape said, sounding a bit defeated himself. "They have the ultimate control when it comes to the school!"
Harry just raised an eyebrow at that.
"You mean to tell me they control something that exists longer than their institution - gods! - longer than the Wizard's Council! How by the gods do you plan to explain to me how the Ministry could have control over an institution that neither the Wizard's Council nor the Gathering of the Lords controlled?" Harry argued icily. "There's also the fact that every damn Headmaster on that wall behind Dumbledore's desk who was Headmaster before the Ministry was established knows those facts! So even if Dumbledore wouldn't have known, the moment Fudge would have tried to force him those Headmasters would have been obligated to tell him!"
Madam Pomphrey closed her eyes at that in dismay.
"That doesn't mean anything," Snape said harshly. "This wouldn't be the first time the Minstry would claim something that wasn't theirs from the beginning -"
Harry smiled vengeancefully.
"And if they have - they will suffer the consequences. There are laws that ensure Hogwart's neutrality, breaking them… won't make Fudge happy," Harry replied. "But then, Dumbledore giving in will have consequences for him as well!"
Those last words seemed to connect the final peaces of the puzzle for Snape, because he paled even further.
"You plan vengeance," Snape whispered. "You plan vengeance against the Headmaster and who knows who else!"
Harry just raised an eyebrow at that, not answering.
Snape stiffened.
"On me as well?" He asked, for the first time not sounding too sure at all. Obviously the knowledge that Harry had travelled in time and was a sworn healer had made him cautious of Harry.
Harry crooked his head.
"I already had some of my vengeance on you," he pointed out. "And I might have hesitated to enact more, considering that you are a part of my House - but that doesn't mean that you won't suffer at the hands of my son instead. He is quite fond of making the younger members of our family suffer under his care."
Snape frowned at that.
"Son?" He repeated, but Harry waved it off.
"Not important right now," Harry replied. "I won't say anything more about him right now."
"I think that having a son definitely is important, Mr Potter!" Madam Pomphrey objected.
Harry looked at her bemused.
"Of course my son is important to me," he agreed amused. "But his identity isn't of importance right now in this discussion."
Neither Madam Pomphrey nor Severus Snape could object to that.
Then Harry's gaze turned serious.
"On the other hand, your cooperation is important for this discussion," he told the two of them.
Madam Pomphrey frowned at that, but to Harry's surprise, Snape inclined his head immediately.
"I won't say anything," the potion's master agreed, ensuring that Madam Pomphrey looked at him in surprise as well.
Snape's gaze turned penetratingly towards her.
"He's part of my family," Snape said. "And I decided months ago that I would stand by family from now on - I won't change my decision after finding out that Potter's also a part of it."
' My Head of House ' remained unsaid.
Harry smiled a nearly hidden smile at that.
"Very well," he agreed, before turning to Madam Pomphrey. "What do you say, Madam?"
The medi-witch still frowned, now at both of them.
In the end, her sharp gaze turned towards Harry.
"I treat you and my oath will ensure that I'm quiet," she compromised sternly.
Harry grimaced.
This wasn't what he wanted.
He knew that the moment she cast a diagnosis at him, there was no hiding of his dying body anymore - and a dying body it was. Even now, Harry was forcibly controlling his breathing to ensure that he wasn't coughing up a lung or two. But then, within the last months his health had slowly degrated and Harry knew, that in the next months, it would degrate even further. There was no changing his death anymore…
He closed his eyes and sighed.
"Alright," he finally said with another sigh. "Just… don't… don't go into shock, alright?"
Madam Pomphrey frowned at him.
"Go into shock?" She asked confused. "I'm not that easy to shock."
Harry snorted.
"Normally I would agree with you - but this time, just believe me that you won't like what you will find out," he told her tiredly.
Snape frowned at that as well.
"Potter," he said slowly. "Are you keeping other secrets from us as well?"
Harry looked at him scathingly.
"I've time-travelled and lived in the past for years," he countered amused. "Of course I've got a lot of secrets I haven't told you or anyone else."
"Nevertheless," Madam Pomphrey said. "You will submit to my diagnostic spells right now."
Harry just sighed again but in the end inclined his head.
"As you wish, Madam," he agreed.
Madam Pomphrey's eyes narrowed at that.
"I guess you already know what I will find," she stated.
Harry looked at her in bitter amusement.
"I've known for months, Madam," he agreed. "Now, if you will…?"
The spell Madam Pomphrey cast left her and Snape paling, while Harry just closed his eyes in silent acceptance.
"You… you're -" Madam Pomphrey whispered, unable to end the sentence she was about to formulate.
"Dying," Harry agreed. "I know."
"Potter," oddly enough, Snape's voice sounded rough and his dark eyes were piercing as if he could change Harry's fate by just staring at him deliberately. "How can you simply accept -"
"I've already lived my life," Harry answered with a shrug. "I might officially be only fifteen in this time - but that doesn't change the fact that I have already lived a full life in the past, with a job, with a wife and children. Dying is just the next step for that."
For a moment, Madam Pomphrey and Snape exchanged a surprised look, but in the end, neither said something at all to that.
Instead, Madam Pomphrey decided to focus on his health.
"This is all well and good, Mr Potter," she said. "But I won't sit by and let you suffer if I can stop it. I might not be able to heal you - whatever you did, it's basically unstoppable while destroying your body and has been since it happened - but the least I can do is lessen your suffering by prescribing you some potions for your symptoms."
Harry knew what she was talking about. The potions she meant, were either already used by him or couldn't be used so long he planned on working the magic of the wards - ritual magic like that could interact with taken potions negatively, after all, and Harry didn't plan to add even more to his suffering.
"As you wish," he said in the end, not elaborating further. After all, even if she prescribed those potions to him, he wasn't forced to take them.
"I will set up to brew them immediately," Snape said, his eyes narrowed. "And I want a written record of your scan, Poppy. Maybe I can find a cure for whatever Potter managed to do to himself this time around."
Harry looked at the other man amused. Of course, the other man didn't know that Harry had played with potions even longer than he had been a healer - but that also didn't mean that the other man wouldn't be able to find a solution Harry hadn't. Harry might have the greater experience, but that didn't mean that he wasn't blind to some possibilities a new set of eyes might see…
"Thank you, Severus," he said instead.
For a moment, Snape looked ready to take points from Harry for using his first name, but then, the potion's master snapped his mouth shut with a growl.
"I guess, you have every right to call me by my first name," he allowed Harry grudgingly.
"I won't in class," Harry promised immediately, and the professor nodded stiffly.
Pomphrey on the other hand send a look to the unconscious child in the other bed, before making up her mind.
"And you may call me Poppy, Potter," she said. "After all, we are collegues."
Harry smiled.
"I am Salvazsahar," he replied, "or Sal, considering that people have often trouble pronouncing my name."
Of course, Harry could have used the same name as he had with Moody, or a different constellation of his names all together - but he was used to be called 'Sal', and considering that he would return to that name very soon, he guessed that it didn't hurt to tell those two people who wouldn't be able to tell his secrets to anybody else thanks to their oaths…
"Sa… but… but," the medi-witch stuttered.
"Salvazsahar Serendu Harryjames Potter," Harry elaborated with an eyeroll. "My parents nicknamed me 'Harry' - something that the Headmaster and everybody else took as my true name when they died."
The medi-witch blinked at that, still surprised, before she shook her head, something akin to understandin in her eyes.
"One name from the mother, one from the father and one from the godfather," she whispered. "And there I thought that Lily and James might have gone the less traditional way naming you just Harry James."
"That's what everybody else thought as well," Harry agreed.
The medi-witch shook her head a second time, before sighing and turning to her cabinets.
Ten minutes later, Harry was finally allowed to leave the hospital wing and return to Gryffindor Tower. The medi-witch had originally wanted him to stay, but Harry had told her plainly, that there was nothing else she could do for him and that he had things to do, so in the end, she had given in and send him on his way.
Of course, that also meant that he would have to come by before breakfast the next morning and every day after - that was the bargain they struck after a heated discussion of two against one; two like Severus Snape and Poppy Pomphrey against Salvazsahar Potter - but considering that Harry had to look after the girl he had treated, he would have come by regularly for the next week or so, anyway. Every thing after - well, Harry was sure that he would be able to renegotiate the bargain at the end of those weeks…
As for the medi-witch and Snape knowing part of the truth - well, Harry wasn't concerned about it, considering that the potion's master had decided to brew the potions for Harry and the medi-witch was looking after him. Considering that those actions made him their patient and his illness was caused as far as they knew thanks to his time-travelling, they wouldn't be able to talk about anything he told them without violating their oaths - which ensured his safety quite well.
"Of course," Harry mumbled to himself while returning to Gryffindor Tower. "This all will be a moot point in the near future. Dumbledore will soon be removed from any position of possible power over me and the whole secrecy will be moot after the Wizengamot meeting in January anyway…"
With that thought, he opened the portrait and entered the common room to rejoin his once best friend working on his 'homework' of ward construction.
When Harry stormed out of the room, it was Hermione, who looked after him with a frown.
"Ron…" she said slowly and the other boy looked up from his homework.
"What is it, Hermione?" He asked her with narrowed eyes. Hermione knew that he wasn't too happy with her for always doubting Harry, but she couldn't help herself.
There was something different - something she couldn't explain and that made her feel… uneasy about Harry.
The boy had changed.
He was wiser, he was colder and more distant.
But that wasn't all of it.
It were his eyes, that had changed the most.
Harry's eyes back last year had been like every other boy's eyes to Hermione - maybe a bit more tired, a bit more beaten down, but all in all, still the eyes of a boy; even if it were the eyes of a boy who had seen too much.
But now, now Harry's eyes weren't those of a boy anymore. She couldn't explain it. They were the same eyes - yet, there was a knowledge and a darkness in there, that made them older, so much older than a boy's eyes could ever be. No, not only a boy's eyes - those eyes were even older than a man's eyes should be. The eyes of Harry were the eyes who had seen it all, had lived through it all and prevailed.
They were the eyes of a survivor, a killer, a healer.
They were the eyes of a being far older and far more powerful than anybody could ever imaging.
They were the eyes of Death.
And Hermione could only shiver and fight against her instincts to run, everytime she saw Death looking out from the eyes that had once held her best friend… and she could, simply couldn't at all accept that Harry was gone and Death had taken his place.
So she sat there, saw the differences and doubted Harry - because doubting him was the only thing she could do until she found out how she was able to get back the Harry she knew whose place had been taken by Death himself…
"Ron," she whispered. "Don't you think that we should go and look for Harry?"
Ron frowned at her.
"No," he said. "No, Hermione. We should leave him be."
"But… look how he left!"
"I know," Ron nodded, his eyes narrowing at the portrait hole. "I know that there's something odd with Harry - but if we don't stop accusing him or following him now, he will give up on our friendship… and this isn't something I want. Do you, Hermione?"
"No," Hermione shook her head, her face twisting in fear. "But there's something different with him and we need to know… we need to help him!"
"We do," Ron agreed, then shook his head. "And we will - but not by praying into something he doesn't want to talk about. Merlin, Hermione! He could have a girlfriend from Slytherin for all we know! I know that if I was in love with a Slytherin or was going out with one I wouldn't tell you guys immediately as well! Let him be! He will come around when he's ready!"
"But…"
"No," Ron shook his head and then deliberately returned to writing his homework. "And even if I agreed to follow him - he's long gone now. There's no way to find out where he went, without breaking into Harry's trunk and taking the map."
Hermione had to concede that he was right about that.
"Still," she said. "The next time he runs off without an explanation, we will follow him!"
"And ensure that he gets angry again?" Ron countered. "Have you forgotten the last time you reported him to Dumbledore?"
Hermione shook her head.
"We won't report him," she replied, her decision final. "We will take him to task after confronting him."
For a moment, Ron seemed to want to object to that as well, but in the end, he nodded reluctantly.
"Alright," he agreed. "If that's what you wish to do…"