Square One

Harry forced his eyes opened, only to let them fall shut again to block out the harsh light filling the room. Several attempts later, he managed to keep his eyes open, although he continued to blink against the light. He let his gaze slide groggily around the room, although without his glasses he couldn't make out much of his surroundings. He shifted slightly in the bed and dug his fingertips into the sheet that covered him. The bed felt familiar, like something from his childhood. It felt, he realised after a moment, like one of the beds in the hospital wing of Hogwarts. But even blurry as it was, the room looked all wrong.

Where was he?

His attempt to call out to anyone who might be nearby came out as a faint croak. He licked his lips, swallowed, and tried again. The result was the same.

What the hell was going on?

Harry stared up at the ceiling and tried to think. He remembered dreaming - all sorts of hazy, distorted dreams, the details of which he could not now recall. Before that, his last clear memory was...of facing Voldemort.

Everything began to click into place then. He must have been injured in the confrontation and been brought to St. Mungo's Hospital. Lovely. Harry did so love hospitals.

There was nothing for it, though. He made up his mind to just think of something pleasant and wait for a mediwitch or Healer to come 'round.

Something pleasant. Quidditch? No. Ginny.

He let his eyes slip closed again and thought of Ginny. Their last night together before his confrontation with Voldemort. The moments they had stolen when and where they could after he'd tried to break things off with her two years before.

Soon enough, a Healer came to look in on Harry. She nearly jumped out of her skin when Harry's eyes snapped open and he croaked at her.

"My sainted aunt," the Healer breathed. "You're awake."

That much, Harry thought, was rather obvious. He croaked at the Healer again and was instantly rewarded with a hastily conjured glass of water. He tried to reach for the glass, but his hands didn't seem to be obeying him.

The Healer flicked her wand, and the bed carefully adjusted itself to raise Harry into a half-sitting position. Then the Healer held the water glass closer to Harry and guided a straw to his lips.

Harry was certain he'd never tasted anything so good in his life.

After only a few small sips, the Healer moved the glass away. "Don't want to overdo," she said.

"Wh'rm I?" Harry managed to ask.

The Healer looked puzzled for a moment, and then said, "Oh! You're in St. Mungo's. I'm Trainee Healer Shelby Duncan." She began casting spells, nodding and mumbling to herself as she went. By the time she finished her diagnostics, Harry was sleeping soundly - the first natural sleep he'd had since he'd arrived at St. Mungo's.

~ ~ ~

The next morning, Harry awoke to find Trainee Healer Duncan at his bedside once again. She again adjusted the bed to put him into a sitting position. Again she offered him water, and this time he was able to at least guide the straw himself. He couldn't remember ever feeling so physically weak in his life.

"My glasses?" Harry asked, his voice still hoarse.

"Of course," Duncan said. She promptly produced his battered glasses and helped him get them properly situated on his face.

Harry looked around the ward again, actually seeing it for the first time. At the far end, Harry could see a matronly woman in lime green robes herding a patient behind a curtain. Suddenly, it seemed as if all the air had gone out of the room. Harry's heart began to pound furiously and his blood ran cold. He knew where he was now; he recognised his surroundings at last. He was on the closed ward, the ward reserved for long-term - usually hopeless - cases. Why in Merlin's name was he here of all places?

He wasn't sure he wanted to know the answer to that question.

A short time later, however, Healer Strout arrived at Harry's bedside with the answer. "You've been with us quite some time, Mr. Potter," she announced cheerfully. "Not a single Healer on the place could find anything wrong with you, mind, but you just refused to wake up, didn't you? We were beginning to wonder if we'd ever see you awake again."

"How long?" Harry asked.

"Never you mind that, now. What's important is that you get all the rest you can before your visitors start pouring in. You'll need all your strength to keep up with them, I'd wager."

Harry didn't like being put off, but before he could protest, he was back in the land of dreams. When next he woke, he was allowed a tiny bit of breakfast and a nutritive potion, along with a bit more water.

"You have visitors," Duncan announced just as he was finishing up with his meager meal.

Expecting Ron, Hermione, and Ginny, Harry was a bit surprised to find that his visitors, instead, were Remus and George Weasley. Remus looked much the same as the last time Harry had seen him, for once seeming neither much greyer nor thinner than before. George, however, was a bit of a shock. He appeared to have aged ten years overnight.

Harry had another moment of blinding panic. Could it have been so long?

"Harry," Remus said warmly, "it's so good to see you awake." He pulled a chair near to the bed and took Harry's hand in his own.

"Hi, Harry," George said quietly. He perched on the edge of Harry's bed.

"Hi."

"How are you feeling?" Remus asked.

Harry shifted a little. "Honestly? Terrified."

George smiled then, and he suddenly looked much more like himself. "You probably should be."

Harry smiled a little, himself, at George's gentle teasing. "How long..." George held up a hand to indicate that Harry shouldn't ask.

"George and I talked before we came here, Harry, and we decided that you should know everything - but not all at once."

"If there's anything we don't cover that you truly need to know, you can ask when we're done, all right? Just let us get through this," George added.

Swallowing thickly, Harry nodded. He didn't like the sound of this.

"Firstly, you should know that Voldemort is well and truly dead."

"Good," Harry said.

"Quite," Remus agreed with a small smile. "With him gone, some of his followers seemed to give up. Others, however, fought all the harder."

"Bellatrix," Harry guessed.

George nodded. "Amongst others, yes. It was ages before the lot of them were dealt with."

"Ron and Hermione," Remus began, squeezing Harry's hand gently when the younger man's body tensed. "They're both fine, Harry. I was just going to say that they were instrumental in finally bringing down Bellatrix Lestrange."

"They're okay?"

"Better than," George assured him.

"Then why...."

"They intend to drop by later today," Remus said.

"Hermione's at work," George said, "and Ron..." He looked to Remus who seemed to deliberate for a moment before nodding. "Ron's busy looking after Lauren - their daughter."

Harry blinked and shook his head slightly. He couldn't have heard that right. Ron and Hermione had a daughter?

"That was my reaction, too," George said, "when they told us Hermione was pregnant. I always thought she had more sense than to actually fall in with Ron."

"You look tired, Harry," Remus interjected.

"A bit."

"We should go soon, then."

"Wouldn't want to overdo," Harry rasped, rolling his eyes.

George grinned. "Now, Harry, be a good little patient so we can hurry up and spring you." At Harry's hopeful expression, George added, "Healer Strout says you may be able to leave day after tomorrow."

"If you behave and do as the Healers say," Remus warned. "We really should go, but I know you're wondering about your friends."

Harry nodded.

George took a deep breath. "Gin's fine. Hagrid's still at Hogwarts. Neville's all right, though he'll always have a bit of a limp. Luna Lovegood's running her father's paper now. And...." He paused, looking profoundly sad. "I -- I have to go," he stammered suddenly, and before anyone could utter another word, he was striding as fast as he could toward the door leading off the closed ward.

Remus rubbed his hand slowly over the top of Harry's. Soothingly. Consolingly. Another wave of panic threatened to wash over Harry.

"As you may or may not remember, while you were occupied with Voldemort, the Order fought his followers. Fred and Bill Weasley were both killed in combat."

"No," Harry gasped. Hot tears blurred his vision.

"We nearly lost Arthur as well, but he did eventually pull through."

"And Tonks?"

Remus smiled. "She's fine, Harry. She wanted to come with me today, but she couldn't get away from work."

"Then you're still together?"

Another smile. "Quite happily so."

Harry smiled, too. "Good. You deserve to be happy." Harry winced as his voice cracked.

"I believe that's my cue to leave," Remus said. He helped Harry with his water glass, set Harry's glasses on the bedside table for him, and said goodbye. He had turned to leave when he suddenly paused and moved to Harry's side again. Gently, he pulled Harry into an awkward hug. "It's good to have you back," he whispered. And then he was gone, slipping away off the ward.

Harry lay awake for a long time, thinking, before sleep finally came to claim him.