Healing

Healing - Part One

It was, according to the headmaster of Hogwarts, a complete mystery. Not even he knew how it had been managed, when he had cast a spell so powerful and beyond Voldemort's understanding around the place.

Life at Number 4, Privet Drive appeared to be the same as the morning before, but when Petunia Dursley found a long, handsome looking stick in her flower bed, she knew something was horribly wrong. Her nephew, the only child of her deceased sister and a boy she normally did not care very much for, never left his wand just lying around. He knew better than to leave it outdoors, at any rate.

With only little thought to how her husband, Vernon Dursley, would react, she entered the young wizard's room. As unusual as this occurrence was, she proceeded to write a letter to a man she barely knew, but realized must be informed immediately of the situation. Shaky, thin hands held the strange quill and scratched along the rough parchment like they were writing out their own death sentence. The Dursleys simply did not approve of any talk of magic, let alone any contact with that world. Yet, it had to be done. Petunia accepted the fact that if she did not tell this Albus Dumbledore what happened, she would be blamed should any harm befall the boy.

With tears, Petunia opened the cage of the snowy white owl she detested, and almost dropped the letter three times while trying to tie it to the bird's leg. Large amber eyes stared back at her patiently, knowing that this uncharacteristic behavior meant something bad had happened. Hedwig had always been a good owl for Harry Potter, and though she held the same feelings for the Dursley's as they did for her, she would make the delivery out of respect for her owner.

"I don't even know if you can understand me," Petunia said. As if she had been handling poison, she moved away from the owl and opened Harry's window. "I need you to deliver that to the headmaster of Ho...Ho...of that school Harry attends."

With a swift, business like chirp, Hedwig soared out of her cage and Petunia watched until she was nothing but a little black dot in the distant sky. Her stomach started to sink with worry. What had she just done? Was Harry even in trouble? Was this some sort of cruel joke? Where in the world could that boy be...

The astonished voice of her husband released her from her nervous trance.

"What in the bloody hell are you doing, setting that nuisance free in the middle of broad daylight?" Vernon Dursley's large neck seemed to be bulging out of the shirt he had just buttoned, much like his beady little eyes were bulging out of their sockets.

Petunia stiffly turned, Harry's wand dangling at her side by her fingertips. When Vernon's eyes registered what he was seeing they grew to the size of small planets. His wife could hardly stand to look at his nephew's wand, let alone touch it.

"I didn't want to," she said after a few moments silence. "But I found this in the garden this morning. I haven't heard a peep from him since last night, and while he's usually quiet, this was...unusual. Vernon, he's been taken by force. I can feel it."

It felt like cold water had been running through her veins ever since she saw the wand, and even the sweater she had pulled around her shoulders on her way to his room did nothing to ward off the chill. Something was seriously wrong with Harry, and it quietly drove her insane.

"But that boy is not our problem," Vernon finally spat; his lack of understanding had made his temper rise quite quickly. "We promised to provide shelter, food, and clothing. Any thing else was to be taken care of by them, since he's bloody..."

"They had to be informed, Vernon." Petunia, regaining some of her muster, stood tall and defiantly stared into her husband's eyes. "I know we made promises, but this time I had to break them."

Wand down on the table, window closed, Petunia made her way out of Harry's room. Not used to being talked to in such a manner, Vernon continued to glare at Harry's wand, not a word muttered to his wife before he heard a small click down the hall. After she closed her bedroom door, the tears ran rampant. Tired and near freezing, she dissolved into a ball on her bed.

Albus Dumbledore, Head Master of Hogwarts where Harry attended school, arrived no more than half an hour later. Mrs. Figg, the batty neighbor the Dursleys always shipped Harry off to when they went away, accompanied him. It was a shock, to say the least, to learn that Mrs. Figg had contact with the magical world, but the sight of the aging wizard overshadowed that. Knowing Harry was a wizard made the Dursleys mad enough; having other wizards in their house was unsettling in a different way. Who was to say he wouldn't put a curse on them when they least expected it?

Dumbledore was nothing but kind and gentle as he handled the Dursleys, trying his best to explain what had happened. Having nothing more than educated theories on Harry's disappearance, he informed them that he had contacted every person that might know of Harry's whereabouts, and had only come up with one possible lead.

"Her name is Hermione Granger, and her parents or non-magical, just like yourselves," Dumbledore stated softly as he sat around the Dursleys' kitchen table, dressed completely in Muggle clothing. "It seems that Harry made plans to journey to the Burrow, in Ottery St. Catchpole, where the Weasley family lives. You have met the father, Arthur Weasley, I am informed."

Vernon exchanged a dark look with Petunia, and Dudley Dursley made a very uncomfortable shift in his seat.

"Miss Granger had been aware of Harry's plan, and when I contacted her about information, she was quick on filling me in. It seems Harry and Ron, who I also was made aware you have met, had been formulating a get together most of the summer and were convinced this morning would be perfect timing. He has, as I feared, not been seen since. His journey to the Borrow would have taken him an hour at most, by his means of transportation."

Mrs. Figg had been throwing Dudley, the Dursleys' only son and Harry's dreaded cousin, disapproving glares until this part. Her eyes watered with tears and one bony hand reached out to be placed on top of Dumbledore's. "What does this mean, Albus? Can we hope that he is still alive?"

Looking grave, but with a twinkle of hope in his eyes, Dumbledore patted Mrs. Figg's hand and gave her a small smile. "It means, simply, that Lord Voldemort has captured Harry. But I assure you, all of you, that if Harry were dead, we would already know."

Vernon, who wasn't clear on all the names Dumbledore used, and certain terms for that matter, asked a question that sounded like he almost cared about what was happening to Harry. "How can you be sure?"

Dumbledore turned his aging head towards the man and worded himself very clearly. "If Harry were dead, we would all know. The blood that runs through his veins also runs through Petunia's, and she's very much alert and healthy right before our eyes. She is experiencing nothing more than a slight chill, which I assure you will fade away once he is returned to safety."

Mrs. Figg sighed, Vernon became alarmed and Dudley looked aghast. Petunia, however, simply met the gaze of the wizard that had turned his attention to her. She had understood what she was undertaking when she had brought Harry into her home. She knew that it was her blood that cast the magical protection around the house and around Harry. Just as Harry's scar blazed with Voldemort's level of power or emotion, so Petunia's comfort shifted with Harry's state of being. It was an aspect of life she had been dealing with for fifteen years.

It was how she knew Harry Potter was not dead, merely in great pain.

It was much to his misfortune that he wasn't.

* * * * *

All that he knew of his imprisonment were the four white-washed walls that surrounded him and the chair that he sat in. He was slumped, arms down towards the floor, his body almost completely numb. His head stood erect, but his face was slack. No chains were bound around his arms. No guards stood watch. After three days of torture, the boy of only sixteen looked to be more like twenty-five.

In his reign of terror, Lord Voldemort had become more than well adept in inducing sheer agony without the use of a wand. That had been the first day, when Voldemort and two of his most faithful Death Eaters had to use their means to get the boy to where he was now. For the past two, Harry had done nothing but sit there, unable to move from the fear and heartache that radiated from his body.

He was slowly being shown, one by one, all of his close loved ones being tortured. It was a horrid motion picture that Harry could not turn off, turn down, or even look away from; Voldemort was showing all of this through Harry's own head. Closing his eyes only made it that much more vivid.

It started with a flashback to the killing of his parents, James and Lily Potter, fifteen years prior. This Harry actually attempted to fight, for he had seen glimpses of his past and heard his mother's screams before. He knew what had happened to them and while it still pained him, his mourning period had ended. He struggled to throw Voldemort out of his mind, like his Potions Professor, Severus Snape, had tried to teach him in private Occulmency lessons for most of last year. It didn't work. Voldemort wasn't entering his mind, just inserting images into it, which allowed him to evade Harry's weak Occlumency skills.

This must be how he put that vision of Sirius in my head, Harry thought for a moment after Lily's face finally died away, leaving him in utter darkness. The sight of his godfather being tortured in the Department of Mysteries had lead to his untimely death, and the image that spurred Harry into action hadn't even been real. He was still having a hard time forgiving himself for that.

The next image hit him sharply and almost knocked him out of his chair. It was Hermione Granger, one of his two best friends in the whole world, lying in a hospital bed. She was completely stiff. During their second year, a Mandrake potion had eventually restored her back to full health. In this vision, however, she levitated two feet off the bed, and after a moment she was dropped. A million pieces of Hermione shattered across the Hospital Wing floor. It was the one and only time that Harry screamed.

It was after this point that he became numb.

Ginny Weasley, his best mate's little sister, laid on a cold stone floor hundreds of feet below Hogwarts. She barely held on to life and was struck at by a hideous basilisk...

Sirius sat against a large tree in a dark forest, Kissed by a Dementor, his soulless body left to be picked at by a flock of hippogriffs...

Cedric Diggory, a deceased member of the Hufflepuff House at Hogwarts, appeared to be a ghost. He was forced to follow around a crying Cho Chang, a former crush of Harry's, repeating over and over that if he had let Harry touch the Triwizard Cup first, he wouldn't be dead...

Dobby, a house-elf employed at Hogwarts that Harry had set free from the Malfoy family, had his head ironed by a former professor, Dolores Jane Umbridge. Lucius Malfoy stood in the background and offered to pay her twenty galleons if she made sure his head resembled a sock...

On and on the visions played throughout his mind. Never once did Harry actually see Voldemort, but then again, he couldn't see much other than what was right in front of his mind. He knew, oh, yes, he knew, that this was all Voldemort's doing and that he had deemed this important enough to keep the Death Eaters out of it. Eventually, the hideous hiss of the Dark Lord could be heard ringing in his ears.

"Do you like what you see, Potter? I can make all this happen, you know. I AM the most powerful wizard to ever live."

Fred and George Weasley, Ginny's older twin brothers, were stuck in a swamp that slowly drug them further and further down. Their tongues were the size of elephants, and their hair was on fire...

Rubeus Hagrid, the Groundskeeper and Care of Magical Creatures Professor at the school, was violently kicked by centaurs. One was in the background trying to persuade Hagrid's brother, Grawp, who was a full-blooded giant, to step on his half-giant brother...

"I even beat death, Potter. It's something your parents weren't able to manage as full grown wizards, and a feat you will never hope to accomplish."

Ron Weasley, his best friend and sibling of Ginny, Fred, and George, was chased by Bludgers through a field of overgrown spiders. A group of rats crawled all over him, and his brain started to grow so large, it came out of his ears...

"This one should touch a sore spot, Potter. Your loving Head Master doesn't seem so strong and wise now, does he?"

The images of Dumbledore were so vile, so harsh, so completely inhumane that Harry could barely breathe as he watched. How could one wizard be so heartless? This was beyond cruel, even beyond immoral.

Members of the Order of the Phoenix, including Nymphadora Tonks, Remus Lupin, and Minerva McGonagall, were stunned over and over by heckling Death Eaters. All of them were wandless and bound by chains against the stone dais that Sirius had died on in the Department of Mysteries. Tonks was so weak that she curled up into a ball and appeared to have stopped breathing. Harry watched helplessly as her body was pushed into the curtain by Bellatrix Lestrange...

"My dear Bellatrix. At moments she seems untrustworthy and weak, but she always finds a way to redeem herself. Torturing the Longbottoms' into madness was one of her finest moments. I wonder how she would handle their son..."

Neville Longbottom laid twitching on the floor, his eyes rolled towards the back of his head and his toad splattered on his robes. Bellatrix laughed triumphantly and waved her wand in his direction, muttering taunts in a baby voice...

Luna Lovegood hung upside down in midair, a copy of the magazine her father edited swatting various parts of her body. Bruises welled where her skin could be seen. Her butterbeer necklace appeared to be much tighter around her throat than it should have been...

How many hours, days, even weeks had passed by since this mental anguish had begun, Harry knew not. How many times Molly Weasley and her family had been sent flying off a cliff in a Ford Anglia that couldn't stay off the ground, he couldn't count. He had no feelings, no thoughts, no nothing until...

Hermione Granger dragged on the ground by her hair, the bushy tendrils wrapped firmly in a pale fist. Blood covered her face, and mud caked her robes. Her body was pushed into the side of a lake where she floated unconsciously towards the bottom. A rusty looking spear pierced her side. Webbed, green fingers wrapped around her, pulling her further down...

Harry Potter could not recall correctly how he managed to escape Lord Voldemort. He had no wand, not even any weapon of Muggle defense to fight him with. Yet, after that last vision, Harry had felt life bloom back into his emptying soul. He remembered that he had closed his eyes, in which the visions had mysteriously stopped, and ran towards the wall at full speed.

He found himself in the middle of a busy Muggle street, surrounded by millions of people but not recognizing a soul. Images still burned in his mind, fear still slept in his heart, and he looked over his shoulder in paranoia. A tall man in a long, black coat was walking in his direction, muttering to himself, and Harry could think of only one thing to do. Right in the middle of the street, with a sigh so loud he was sure he had caught the attention of the entire block, Harry fainted. Surely a wizard was bound to be around, and ready to strike if he saw a Death Eater out in plain view. At least, that's what he was banking on.

A minute later, even with all the eyes he knew were on him, only one hand reached down and pulled Harry up by the neck of his shirt. Harry remained limp and with his eyes closed. This very well could be the last time he took a breath. More than likely a Death Eater had gotten hold of him first...

"Minnie, Obliviate," said a gentle, but firm voice very close to Harry's ear.

He heard the unmistakable sound of a wand swishing, and the familiar Memory Charm being chanted. It all seemed a million miles away, because the visions kept playing in his head and reminding him of the horrors his friends would suffer for being just that. For the first time since his capture, tears welled up in his eyes. His cover was blown, but he didn't care. All he could think about was all the pain he had witnessed his loved ones experience. Not even the somewhat familiar touch of an old hand on his forehead broke him from his misery.

The same gentle voice spoke again, saying, "This may be damage beyond any repair, Minnie. James will just have to rest, and we will just have to pray."

"But Brian," came the same brisk tone of the person who had used the Memory Charm, "I don't understand..."

They had started to move along, Harry still held by the neck of his shirt and the sound of small swishes and 'Obliviate' meeting his ears. He was not walking, yet he could feel his feet moving in a similar fashion. All else failed him, because Ron was being devoured by a spider in his head.

"We should be thankful that he is alive. No doubt certain people will be grateful enough for that..." the voice said before Harry felt them stop. The same old hand that touched his forehead now grasped his hand, and placed it firmly around a leather bag of some sort. Both people pressed closely around him, and after the count of three, he felt a jerk behind his navel and blacked out completely.

He was unaware when he was laid out in a hospital bed similar to the one in his vision. He only somewhat made out the whispers about a place called something York, and that it was a miracle he was alive. And when his vision-filled nightmares weren't plaguing him, and he thought he almost had enough strength to open his eyes, he was only somewhat aware that a mane of bushy hair was covering his chest and tears were soaking his bed sheets.