Healing

Healing

Part One

The final battle between Harry Potter and the Dark Lord Voldemort was a spectacular sight to the Muggle, non-magical, witnesses from the neighborhood in Surrey. The spectacular sight was one they would never remember. By dawn they would either be dead, killed by Death Eaters, or on their way to work as though nothing had happened, memory charmed by The Ministry of Magic. Figures in robes and cloaks shot beams of light at each other. There were creatures there that were thought to be mythological: giants, elves, centaurs, vampires, and some they had no names for.

The Muggles had been awakened in the middle of the night by a loud explosion at Number Four Privet Drive. The summer after Harry Potter's sixth year at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Witchery the teenage wizard was betrayed by someone close to him. Determining exactly who had done the betraying would have to wait. As soon as Voldemort had attacked the wards surrounding the house of Harry's uncle and aunt Albus Dumbledore was notified that something was horribly wrong. He gathered every member of the Order of the Phoenix and alerted The Ministry to send every wizard they could find.

The Muggles watched as the hooded and masked figures surrounding the suburban house. Other figures in robes appeared out of nowhere to fight off the attackers. What shocked them most was when the teenager they thought was a dangerous criminal was the only one to exit the house to fight the invaders. Some of them assumed that the Potter boy had killed the Dursleys in their sleep. Others felt with a pang of guilt that they had misjudged the boy. Mrs. Figg was not hesitant to inform anyone who had listen that Harry had been horribly mistreated by the Dursleys and was no criminal. She kept a mental list of every Muggle who watched for the Ministry.

They saw creatures and humans dying on the immaculately trimmed lawns. What they didn't see was the terrible grief etched on Harry Potter's face. The sixteen year old wizard had seen a friend die two years ago. He watched his godfather's murder one year ago. Just this year he was unable to help as he witnessed the death of another boy who he thought was his enemy. The truth was discovered too late. This evening he saw several people he loved fall. The grief hardened into hatred and determination as Harry battled the Dark Lord.

Those nearby were amazed that Harry was taunting Voldemort. When the Dark Lord finally attacked The-Boy-Who-Lived was ready. He shouted his curse at the same moment, triggering the connection between their wands. The golden cage spanned out from the two wands, encasing the two wizards who so much in common yet were so very different. Harry was also ready for this. He whipped another wand out from the sleeve of his robes and shouted. Avada Kedavara! The beam of green light that shot out of the wand was so bright that some of the Muggles shielded their eyes. As the Dark Lord Voldemort fell a wave of pure energy shot outwards, knocking everyone in a ten block radius to the ground and breaking windows in the immediate area.

Minerva McGonagall stood, surrounded by carnage. She immediately began to magically bind any surviving Death Eaters. The Dark wizards did not fight, in shock from the death of their Master. A few disapparated and would have to be hunted down, but that was what aurors were for. Other members of the Order and Ministry employees were doing the same work as her. There were a few Ministry officials who gathered together the Muggles who had been spectators to the battle. She saw a bright flash as the Group Memory Charm was cast. Arabella Figg directed the Ministry wizards in returning the Muggles to the proper houses. The squib was appreciated by the wizarding world for the first time in her life. Minerva's throat closed as she came upon the body of her closest friend, her mentor and colleague.

"Oh Albus," she choked out as she kneeled by the headmaster's body, "you didn't see it. You didn't see Harry win."

She remembered with a gasp the events she spoke of and started to search frantically for her student. With so many people there the diminutive boy would be easy to miss. She pushed past wizards and witches, eyes wide open for glimpse of messy raven hair and bright green eyes. She inquired of everyone she saw if they had seen Harry. Soon word spread that she was looking for him. With all the Death Eaters who they captured bound and guarded a full scale search for the savior of the wizarding world began. Minerva reached the front yard of the Dursley home. The despicable family had stayed inside the entire time, only venturing forth quiet descended.

She stood beside the corpse of Tom Riddle, the Dark Lord Voldemort. Shaking, she reached out and verified for herself that he was dead. The grass around him was broken and bent down in a circular pattern, expanding out from the evil wizard like a ripple in water. She crawled to the spot where Harry had stood as he cast the final curse of the second war against Voldemort and his Death Eaters. The pattern in the grass remained the same. Harry had never hit the ground.

Memory charms cannot be reversed by magic. They do not heal with time. On vary rare occasions extreme shock is the only thing can recover the blocked memories. As Minerva searched, almost in panic, for any sign of Harry Potter a dam in her mind broke and the events of twenty years ago flooded into her mind. She stopped in place as though she had hit an invisible brick wall. Molly Weasley approached her, examining the face of the Deputy Headmistress, now Headmistress, with the practice eye of a mother of seven.

"Minerva, what is it? Where is Harry?" Molly asked. She saw hope and relief in the Scottish woman's face.

"I don't know where he is, but I know he'll be back," she said. No one else could get a word out of her that evening.

Minerva returned to Hogwarts and stood before the gargoyle that guarded the entrance to Albus Dumbledore's office, now her office. It moved aside to reveal the moving spiral stone stairs. She stepped on and walked into the office, greeting Fawkes. The phoenix flew to her shoulder, as it never had before. She stroked his feathers and his song lightened her heart. She sat at the desk to wait. There was envelope on the desk addressed to her. She opened it and pulled out the parchment. The headmaster's familiar script was etched across the pages. She began to read.

* * * * * * * *

Minerva McGonagall walked out through the main doors of Hogwarts. This fall would see her twenty-first year as Professor of Transfiguration. She still remembered the day she had move into her staff quarters at the castle where she had been a student only two years before she began to teach. When she had received the invitation from Albus Dumbledore, Headmaster, to join the Hogwarts staff, she had replied instantly. He had vacated the post of Professor of Transfiguration to lead the school. Minerva McTavish was ecstatic when she told her fiancé William McGonagall the good news. She wiped away a tear at the memory of her deceased husband. He had fallen in the fight against Voldemort early on in the war. He was one of the first victims, a talented auror in the wrong place at the wrong time.

She walked across the castle grounds as the morning fog lifted off the lake in the bright summer sun. This would be her first year as Deputy Headmistress and Head of Gryffindor House. The Potions Professor who had held the position retired after the previous spring. His only child had been killed in the war and he had decided to move back to America with his broken-hearted wife, as far away from He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named as they could get. She tripped as she walked along the same path she did every morning and turned to see why. The crumpled figure in black school robes open over cotton pajama pants shocked her.

She rushed to the side of the still form and fet for a pulse. It was there, though faint. Gently rolling the child over, she received yet another shock. The boy looked exactly like James Potter, the seventh year Gryffindor that would be Head Boy this year. She would have thought it was James had the boy been taller. Racking her brain she remembered that James was an only child, the last of the Potter line. She stood and took out her wand to conjure a stretcher for the injured boy. She and Albus could identify him later. Now she had to get him to Poppy's care.

Once Madam Pomfrey assured her the boy would survive, Minerva turned to fetch the Headmaster. Albus must be informed of the strange child found injured on the castle grounds. Minerva had noticed the Gryffindor colors on the neck or the boy's robes. She knew every student in her house and this was not one of them. She opened the door to the hospital wing to find Albus standing there, about to enter. There was no surprise there. The Headmaster always knew what was happening in his school. Minerva suspected that half the house-elves worked purely as spies, reporting everything to the kind white haired wizard.

"Minerva," he began, "I hear you had a bit of a shock this morning."

"Yes Albus," she said as she led him to the child's bed. "This boy..."

At that moment the boy woke. When he opened his eyes Minerva was shocked for the third time in only one hour. The eyes were a dazzling emerald green. Only one other person she had ever met had eyes of that color. This child had the same eyes as Lily Evans, another seventh Gryffindor and this year's Head Girl. The eyes lit up with a sparkle exactly like the one often seen in the pale blue eyes of Albus Dumbledore when he saw the headmaster.

"Albus," the child exclaimed. "I thought you were....I saw you....then I must be dead." His gaze shifted to meet her eyes. "Minerva! I thought you had survived." He took in his surroundings. "If I'm dead what the hell am I doing in the Hogwarts hospital wing? Haven't I spent enough time here?" He went into a fit of coughing.

The headmaster's brow furrowed in deep thought. He handed a vial of some healing potion to the boy, who grimaced and swallowed it in one pull between coughs. "You are not dead child, and neither are we. Professor McGonagall found you on the grounds this morning."

The boys expression mirrored the one Albus had worn moments earlier. His face suddenly cleared and he began to laugh. "That must have been one hell of a nightmare. I thought it was summer, and Voldemort," Minerva flinched, "killed you. Then I killed Voldemort in the front yard on Privet Drive and woke up here." His laughter faded as he saw Minerva flinch for the second time. "What's wrong? You stopped flinching at his name last year."

"There seems to be some confusion here. You know us quite well, but neither one of us knows you," Minerva said.

The boy's eyes widened. He looked around quickly and saw his wands on the bedside table. He grabbed the one made of the lighter wood, holly Minerva thought, and held it in his lap, ready for use.

The headmaster spoke before the boy could do anything rash. "What is your name?"

The boy eyed Albus suspiciously before speaking, "Someone must have obliviated the both of you. I'm Harry Potter," Minerva gasped and covered her mouth with her hand.

"I am pleased to meet you Harry, though to be honest your surname does not surprise. With the exception of the eyes and height you are the mirror image of James. What relation are you? I thought he was an only child." Albus did not respond to the accusation of memory loss.

"He was an only....what is the date?" Realization seemed to be dawning on the boy.

"Was, you say? Today is the thirty-first of July, 1977." All color drained from the boy's face.

"I haven't even been born yet," he said in horror before slipping back into sleep.

"Albus, what is this?" Minerva managed to speak.

"I think it is quite clear Minerva. Somehow Harry, whose parentage is quite obvious, was transported back in time after I died and he killed Voldemort. There is no need to fear his name Minerva. Fear of the name increases fear of the thing itself. Anyway, Harry said you stopped fearing his name in the future, so you might as well save yourself time and stop now." Albus said.

Minerva laughed, "But then I would be changing the course of history Albus. Harry remembers when I stopped flinching at You-Know-Who's name." She was feeling a bit better. Time travel was unusual in the wizarding world, but not unheard of. "I wonder how he got here....and how we will get him back."

"He will have to stay here until we find a way. He is young enough that he must still be a student. He will have to be disguised, though. His resemblance to Lily and James is too uncanny. How shall we do that...." the headmaster smiled.

"Isn't it obvious Albus?" Minerva said with a chuckle. "Give him blond hair and blue eyes. Alexander can brew a potion for that, or you can yourself. He may look like a smaller version of James with the eyes of Lily Evans, but his facial expressions are yours. I believe your future protégé is in that bed."

* * * * * * * *

Harry woke with an overall ache, as though he had fallen down a flight of stairs and bruised everywhere. He was having some difficulty separating his dreams from reality. It was usually so clear. Had he really killed Voldemort? Did he dream he had traveled back in time? He was in the Hogwarts hospital wing wearing Madam Pomfrey issued pajamas. At that moment in his musing Madam Pomfrey bustled into the room.

"Ah, I see you are awake again. How are you feeling?" she said as she took her wrist in his hand.

"Sore, but-" something wasn't right. She was never this nice to him. The Poppy Pomfrey he knew was always scolding him for the amount of time he spent in the hospital wing.

"You seem much better. You'll probably be able to leave us today, though I'm not sure where you'll go," she said as she continued to check his vital signs.

Leave today? She usually kept him there long after it was necessary. The headmaster and Minerva McGonagall entered the room, and Harry realized that he had not dreamed at all. Minerva had much less gray in her hair, and the headmaster's face was lined. He felt a lump form in his throat. If he had not dreamed, then Albus was really dead. Harry was ashamed at the tear that dripped down his cheek. He had not cried when Cedric died. He had not cried when Sirius died. He had not cried when Draco Malfoy died, though no one expected him to. He wiped his eyes to prevent further tears.

"Do not feel ashamed Harry, and do not feel it necessary to grieve for me. To the well prepared mind death is but the next great adventure," Albus said.

Harry smiled, "So you've told me. It was at the end of my first year."

"Poppy you might want to sit down before you hear this," the headmaster ordered.

She looked back and forth between her patient and the headmaster with barely masked curiosity and took a seat in the nearest chair.

"Do you know how you got here Harry?" Harry shook his head. "What is the last thing you remember?"

"Voldemort," Minerva and Poppy flinched, "got past the wards at my aunt and uncle's house. There was a battle right there with all the Muggles in the neighborhood watching. He killed you Albus, right before I got to you." Harry's breathing was getting laborious. "I goaded him into dueling." The three adults looked astonished. "Our wands connected. Both of them have cores of phoenix feather from Fawkes. He didn't know I had a second wand. I remember wishing I was anywhere but there. So many people were dead. I cast the killing curse and there was a shock wave of energy when it killed him. I fell....and woke up here."

Harry looked down at his hands. Even though the Ministry had authorized the use of the killing curse on Voldemort he still felt.....dirty. That the use of an Unforgivable Curse could land any wizard in Azkaban with a life sentence had been drilled into him.

"It is extremely rare, but I believe that with your own will combined with the energy released upon Voldemort's death you teleported yourself back in time. We can send you back, though it is a very difficult and time consuming process. I'll have to do some research. Perhaps Nicolas can help. A time turner will not be sufficient, given the amount of time we are looking at." Albus pondered the problem.

Harry grinned, a mischievous glint in his eyes. Albus was bringing up memories from all his years at Hogwarts. "They only work for a matter of hours."

Minerva looked at him closely. "You say this as if you know from personal experience."

"The future you is well aware of that." Upon remembering the events of his third year he recalled the cardinal rule of time travel. Be careful what you say and do, lest you create a paradox. He looked horrified. "I've probably already told you too much. I could be jeopardizing the future."

"Don't worry Harry. The three of us will not let this out of the room and you will have to memory charm us before you leave. In the meantime, do not tell us too much about the present time. It is enough that we know you are James and Lily's son." Harry nodded. "Now, how old are you?"

"Today is July thirty-first?" The three adults nodded. "Then at home it's my seventeenth birthday. I'd be entering my seventh year here."

"We'll put you in seventh year then. We will have to disguise you. Your appearance would garner too many undesirable questions. How would you like to be my great-nephew?" Harry grinned. "Excellent. A change of hair and eye color should do it. Minerva will make sure you are in the appropriate classes. You and I will take a trip to Diagon Alley tomorrow to make sure you have all your supplies. Our Potions Master, Alexander Lestrange, can make the potions -"

Harry's eyes narrowed at the name Lestrange. He felt a rage burn inside him. Last he had seen his godfather's murderer, Belletrix Lestrange, was still alive and free. He barely noticed Minerva take a step back, eyes wide. "What relation is he to Rodolphus?"

Albus suddenly looked very serious. "He is his uncle. Rodolphus graduated last year."

Harry snorted. "That's one less Death Eater to worry about this year then. It may be in our best interest to brew any unusual potions ourselves, though it is not my best subject."

"Harry, the boy may not be a Death Eater yet," Poppy suggested.

Harry suddenly looked sad. "He'll be in Azkaban in less than six years time, I think, along with several current students. I don't know how much you want to know about that, though."

"Do not give us any more names Harry. If we treat the students any different than we normally do, we could create a paradox." Harry nodded. "What house are you in?"

"Gryffindor," Harry answered shortly. He had been a bit excited about meeting his parents, seeing Sirius again, and spending some time with Albus. Now, though, he remembered all the other people he would meet. Hogwarts would be lucky if he didn't attack a few of them.

"Is there anything else we should know?" Minerva asked.

"I'm an animagus," Harry replied. All three adults looked astonished again. Harry concentrated and seconds later a magnificent creature replaced the boy on the bed. The feathers of an eagle's head gradually transitioned into the shiny golden fur of a lion. Harry stretched his eagle wings and flexed his paws. He transformed back into himself.

"You're a griffin!" Albus looked delighted. "Magical creature animagi are very rare, not to mention sixteen year old animagi."

Harry laughed hilariously, "Not so much as you think!" He spoke before he thought, a common problem he had, and clamped his hand over his mouth. "Oh no."

"Something we should know Harry?" Albus questioned.

Harry mentally kicked himself. "You have to promise not to do anything about it. You don't find out about it until the end of my third year. I'd love for you to know later, because then he won't...but he might...and then he'd never..." Harry was feeling a bit panicky. If anything could cause a paradox, this could.

"You should probably tell us everything Harry. We'll just have to pretend we don't know," Albus stated.

"To start with, I know Remus Lupin is a werewolf..." Harry told the whole story of how his father, Sirius Black, and Peter Pettigrew became animagi and the future results. He ended his story with the capture of Peter, Wormtail, by Ministry aurors during his sixth years. Sirius had been posthumously exonerated and awarded the Order of Merlin, First Class. In Harry's opinion it was too little, too late. He finished his story bitterly and Minerva and Poppy were tearing. Harry was thankful he had left out his own adventures. He didn't want to see their reactions to those.

"I find it hard to believe that three of our students are unregistered animagi, and we cannot do a thing about it. On the other hand, it is good to know that Remus has company," Albus mused.