Book of Memories

Chapter 10: THE PATIENT

"You know, we haven't been to see Hagrid yet," said Hermione over breakfast.

"What d'you say we go after lunch?" said Ron. "I need something to cheer me up before we go to Herbology."

So after Defense Against the Dark Arts, where Harry was the only one who could manage to raise a one inch skeleton that could throw fireballs from a dead spider (they took a break from the dreadful book), instead of spending time in the commons, they left the castle.

The fall air was cool but it was the winds that made them wrap their cloaks tighter as they neared Hagrid's hut. Clouds above threatened to drop rain. Hagrid was sitting outside in his moleskin overcoat tending to a short green things with small clubs. They had to be young trolls. He was feeding them chickens and they were eating them savagely, tossing feathers and blood all over. The sight was rather gross.

"You have to feed those things outside?" said Hermione, now covering her nose with her cloak to drown out the smell.

"Have ter," said Hagrid. "They made a mess of me hut when I tried ter feed 'em inside!"

One of the trolls mistook Hagrid's finger for food and when he whipped his hand, he flung the troll towards Harry, Ron and Hermione.

It stood up and raised it's club, stamping after Harry, who quickly pulled out his wand.

"Expelliarmus!" he shouted. The young troll's club flew out of it's hand and into Harry's. It knew better than to go after him. Hagrid chuckled.

"I remember when yeh took on that fully grown troll in yer first year. Now yeh're takin' on fully grown balrogs!"

Harry frowned.

"I tried to kill it with an Avada Kedavra. It just bounced off and the thing got angrier."

Hagrid chuckled again.

"Their skin is like a dragon's. Most magic just bounces right off. Soon maybe yeh can take a Nundu," he added, laughing. "Come, these're done eating fer today." Hagrid threw the last of the chickens at them and Harry gave the troll it's club back. They walked into the forest, grunting. "Bane is takin' care of 'em for me. They're yer next lesson."

Hagrid opened up his door and they all sat inside. Hagrid offered them rock cakes which he immediately reminded them he cooked himself. They took the tea but lied and said they were full and couldn't eat the cake. It did smell awfully good but past experience with Hagrid's cooking was none too appealing.

"So Harry, I hear Snape's got yeh in detention in the hospital wing," said Hagrid taking a seat on the huge chair next to the fire.

"Oh yes," said Harry sarcastically. "It's great fun. I get to make Pepperup Potions and stuff and when I mess up, Snape gets to yell at me and take away obscene amounts of points. I think he's taken fifty so far."

"Too bad Sirius isn't around to boss him around," said Ron. At this, Harry saw that Hagrid made a face that said he agreed.

"Where is he anyway?" asked Hermione. "Hasn't been to see Harry at all yet."

"Oh, er," began Hagrid, "he's fine. Some complications with the Soul-Saver potion. Bad business that stuff. Givin' St. Mungo's witches a hard time."

"Can't wait to see him again," said Harry. He took a sip of Hagrid's tea. To his surprise, it tasted much, much better than teas past. "Hagrid, this tastes very good!"

Hagrid grinned. "New recipe from the house-elves. Dobby suggested I try it. Gettin' along well, that elf. Still a bit weird."

"Oh, how's Winky?" asked Hermione hastily.

"She's doin' great. Got over Crouch las' year and Dobby's been keepin' her spirits up. She's still just a bit upset. I figure it'll take a bit longer for her ter realize he isn't still her master. Speakin' o' which, that reminds me, Harry," Hagrid added, turning to Harry. "Dumbledore wanted me ter tell you ter stay out of trouble this year."

"No need to remind me," said Harry, smiling. "I'll never forget this summer and I hope to see another one like it next year."

"Aww," said Hermione, giggling at his soft side. She went to hug him again but Harry shrugged her off.

"Didn't yeh know, Hermione?" said Hagrid innocently.

"Know what?"

"He's reserved for Cho!"

"Shut up!" Harry felt the blood rising in his face.

"Oh come on, Harry. Viktor and I did stuff over the -" but she couldn't finish as Harry's frown turned into a nasty smile.

"Oh really?" he asked, his voice rising. Hermione's face went scarlet.

"Well... we just, I mean - I showed him around and... and we went to the mov- Hey!" She looked at Ron, who was being just as quiet as was Hagrid. They were enjoying themselves. "What about you, Ron?" Harry was now no longer flush. Harry and Hermione expected Ron to turn red but he didn't. "What'd you do this summer with Fleur?" she said, smiling broadly.

"We met once or twice but she wanted to talk about Harry most of the time," said Ron dully.

"For the book?" asked Hermione quickly.

"For the book," Ron acknowledged. He suddenly smiled. "Oh, yeah! Mom made us get together again. I forgot all about it because I was half asleep and full up on butterbeer. We spent a few hours in Hogsmeade. What about you, Harry? Gonna go anywhere with Cho?"

Harry folded his arms, turning red again.

"Ah, c'mon, Harry," said Hagrid.

Harry liked the idea but was afraid he'd turn into a puddle if he was forced to ask Cho about it. There was an awkward silence.

"We'll be late for Herbology," said Harry suddenly. "Greenhouse four."

Of course, the person he had no trouble looking at and usually wanted to see was Sirius. Snape was being extra edgy in Potions.

"Enjoying your detentions, Potter?" said Snape coldly, the edge of his upper lip curling with delight.

Harry didn't respond and tended to his simmering cauldron. It would appear Snape's animosity was reaching it's height or at the very least, Harry hoped it couldn't get much worse. He looked over to Malfoy to see his reaction. Malfoy wasn't looking towards Snape at all. It took an event where Harry saved Malfoy's life to stop him from being nasty? Snape, however, kept flapping his stupid mouth.

"I remember all the times your father wormed his way out of detention," he said softly. "I never thought I would be blessed with the delight of giving his son detention." Harry didn't notice it, but the class stopped what they were doing to look in his direction. Some of them, especially Ron and Hermione, had gone very white. "You were so happy on your birthday when everyone was recollecting time with James! I just don't want you to get the wrong impression. A hero, he is not."

Snape had hit a soft point, a soft point that would cause an explosion in Harry's stomach any minute.

"You don't know anything about him," said Harry, still looking after his cauldron.

"Tut," said Snape. "And neither do you." The fireworks were about to go off and it would be a sight to behold... Harry tried hard kept his anger out of his voice but the coldness and shakiness he couldn't.

"I don't know anything about him because you helped the man that killed him. Haven't we had this conversation before?" Harry couldn't help it. The anger was rising. "If I remember correctly, you tried to wrongly get yourself an Order of Merlin, Second Class."

He pulled the Order of Merlin plaque out from under his shirt to show Snape and upon grabbing it, self-confidence swept through him like never before and he ignored the sour look on Snape's face. Harry still wasn't smiling but his face was resolute.

"You better keep doing whatever it takes to make yourself feel better, Severus," said Harry coldly, his hand holding the plaque shaking, "because this one has my name on it and I don't see one around your neck."

"Keep up the attitude, Potter, and I will see to it that you are expelled. Another week of detention," said Snape hastily and he walked away.

Harry would never find out, but it looked as if Snape was intimidated by him. After all, Harry did manage to control a bolt of lightning...

More so than ever before did Harry wish again that he still had parents, or at the very least, that Sirius was perfectly fine. He couldn't talk to anyone like he could talk to Sirius. On the outside, it looked like the famous Harry Potter was an amazingly brave wizard who was finding his way in life as an orphan. On the inside, it was the exact opposite.

Harry made the excuse during dinner that he had to re-read a chapter from Harry Potter: Lucky or Legendary. Ron and Hermione immediately knew this was false but didn't press the point. It was all an empty wish and he was closer to tears during his silent dinner alone up in his dormitory than was comfortable.

Nothing at all helped to raise his mood, not even Hedwig resting on his shoulder, her warm feathers pressing up against his cheek.

"Get off, Hedwig," he snapped.

She took a bite out of one his meatballs then fluttered onto the window ledge near his bed and stuck up her tail at him. Harry ate his dinner, thinking about the episode with Cappy, Aunt Vernon and Uncle Petunia, or was it the other way around -- his brain wasn't working properly.

Harry totally ignored the promise to Sirius that he would talk to someone, anyone about something that was bothering him. This was mostly due to the fact that he would like the person to be Sirius but he was currently at St. Mungo's. A few boring hours later, Snape came personally to beckon Harry off to the hospital wing.

In the corner, again, was the person with the curtains drawn around them. As much as he would have liked to rip the covers off to see who it was, he remembered his promise to himself to stay out of trouble and listen to Dumbledore for a change. His toast with Ron and Hermione went forgotten but it looked like a perfect time to use Mr. Weasley's words again.

But as Snape was bickering over the quality of his wound-cleaning potion, one of the things nagging Harry was who could be so sick that they had to be here for almost a week? No one he knew was missing and no one had mentioned it. For a brief moment, he suspected everyone was hiding something from him.

Harry cleaned a big gash on Justin Finch-Fletchley's arm that he got from an over-excited plant in Herbology. The wound-cleaning potion worked extraordinarily well, cleaning out the green stuff in one swipe. Harry had nothing better to do so he put all his effort into making the best wound-cleaning potion bezoar, dragon's blood and diluted Bundimun secretion could make. Madam Pomfrey poured his cauldron into a huge bottle for safe-keeping.

"A bit too much Bundimun secretion, Mr. Potter, but the extra dragon's blood made it worthwhile," she said.

"Professor Snape taught us well," Harry sneered, cleaning his cauldron out.

The heavy rain outside drowned out the words Snape was muttering to himself. It was another thunderstorm, third one this week. Lightning lit up the night sky, putting Hagrid's hut in view from the hospital wing's windows. He was chasing trolls and when another lightning bolt cracked the air, Harry saw the outline of what looked like a three headed dog he had unfortunately seen before: Fluffy. Fluffy was too dangerous to give away; Hagrid must have let him loose in the forest. He then saw Hagrid frantically playing his flute to put Fluffy to sleep.

"Potter, you're dripping dragon blood on the floor," said Snape.

Harry snapped out of his day dreaming. Snape left the room and Harry checked his watch (he still wasn't over the fact that he was wearing a twenty-four karat gold watch paid for mostly by the Dursleys). It was half past midnight and he would get to leave in another half hour. Officially, it was Saturday and Harry was looking forward to the rest of his first weekend back at Hogwarts.

Glancing at the patient in the corner out of his eye, his curiosity, as it so often did, got the best of him. Madam Pomfrey stepped out and Harry walked over to the bed with the curtains drawn around it. Who could that be? Dumbledore was perfectly fine, no teachers were missing, Sirius was at St. Mungo's, none of his friends were hurt so bad and, in fact, he's seen them all ever since he first spotted the patient.

He had his hand on the curtain when Madam Pomfrey bustled in, looking frazzled.

"Mr. Potter, may I remind you there is no need to check up on that patient," she said sternly. She shooed him away and sent him back to Gryffindor Tower early.

When Harry got back to his dormitory, he did a little more detective work. What did it seem like everyone was doing about this? It looked innocent enough: a patient in the corner of the hospital wing, clearly very ill, that Madam Pomfrey didn't want Harry to see. Was it someone he knew and was forgetting about? Or was the person in just such a bad condition that he might give up his dinner at the sight of them? The latter was more likely.

Whatever the case, he only had two more days to find out... and he would find out. It was plainly obvious that Madam Pomfrey didn't want him looking and then there was the fact that nobody seemed to care that there was a person lying in the hospital wing for at least three days. There was no telling how long before Harry first saw that person that they have been there.

As Harry put his necklace and watch on top of his trunk, another thought came to mind: what did Ron hide from him that day in Divination? Why didn't Professor Trelawney let him have a go? Did she think he would see something? Another teacher had done exactly the same thing. Three years ago Professor Lupin didn't let Harry fight a boggart, a shape-shifter, because he thought it might turn into Voldemort. It did turn into something scary, but it wasn't Voldemort: it was a dementor. That must be it. Harry would have seen what he was questioning this very moment.

He would ask Ron what he saw in the morning. Harry turned to his pillows, scrunched them up, crawled into bed, pulled the covers over himself, closed the curtains and went to sleep.

The very next morning when Harry awoke, he sat on his bed, twiddling his thumbs, waiting for Ron to wake up. Should he press the matter as soon as he wakes up or wait until breakfast or bug Ron after breakfast? Harry was dying to know and he would pull it out of Ron one way or another. Thankfully, an opportunity presented itself in perfect form over breakfast (somehow the talk went from how it felt to be back from the summer vacation, to Harry's birthday, to classes in general and then to classes you hated). Also thankfully, Harry never mentioned the person in the corner of the hospital wing to anyone so if Ron's vision involved that, he would be free to run down without anyone knowing where he was going.

"We should've dropped Divination along with you, Hermione, honestly," Ron was saying. "That class is such a bore and it's so dull. It's so dull I can't make any wisecracks about it."

"It wasn't dull when you woke up in a cold sweat gawking at me like I grew two more heads and four more legs," said Harry coldly. If he was forceful enough, Ron might be more willing. It caught Ron by surprise.

"I... well that is, I mean." Harry raised an inquisitive eyebrow, and smiled twistedly, not unlike Snape once did in their first year.

"Cough it up, Ron," Harry said sharply. "What did you see?" Hermione's eyes were darting between the two of them.

"I told you. It was just a nightmare." There were more beads of sweat breaking across Ron's face.

"If it's just a nightmare why won't you tell me?" said Harry, starting to get annoyed.

"What happened?" asked Hermione anxiously. Harry turned to her.

"I don't know," he said, and then he started staring at Ron like a hawk. "Ask him." Ron didn't reply and began to eat his eggs like they were the most important thing in the world. That and his arm was clearly shaking.

"Ron!" panted Hermione like she had just run several laps around the lake. "What is it?"

Ron heaved a great sigh and put his fork down.

"All right, all right," he said, his shoulders finally relaxing (Harry's did the opposite).

"I saw Sirius," Ron continued. Harry and Hermione's eyes widened and Ron closed his trying to remember every last detail. "He... he said something but I can't remember what. Something... something about Cybele."

"Cybe-what? Someone's name?" said Hermione.

"'Cyb' as in 'squib' and then 'uhh' and 'lee.' Cybele- I don't know!" he shouted, annoyed.

"Shh!"

"After he said that, he just... he just fell to the ground, a zombie again." Ron looked at Harry with a great pain in his eyes and a loss for words. Harry felt the blood leave his face. There was no point in keeping it there as he didn't feel like hearing or seeing anything else.

"No," said Hermione, trying to sound cheerful.

"No, what?" said Ron. Harry didn't feel much like speaking.

"It was just a vision," Hermione said reassuringly. "I mean, if it was true, why wouldn't anyone tell Harry? Aside from Dumbledore, Harry would definitely be the first to know! Besides, he's in St. Mungo's and Hagrid said he was okay."

"I didn't want to worry you, Harry," said Ron. "I mean, you're the one that has the dreams that tell the future and you see stuff, not me. What if it's just fake?" he added hastily. "Look. When we finish our breakfast, we'll go see Hagrid and ask him, okay?"

Harry nodded.

"Okay," Ron said with a bit of finality. Harry wolfed the rest of his food down, not speaking. Ron and Hermione ate normally and Harry finished long before them.

"I'm going to see Hagrid now," he said.

"We'll be there soon," said Hermione as Harry left the Great Hall.

Hagrid knew something he didn't want to tell Harry... Out through the great oak castle door, Harry sprinted across the grass (for once it was sunny out and the wind wasn't blowing anything down) and ignored the fact that his cloak was falling off his shoulder...

Harry knocked hard, a little harder than he intended, on Hagrid's door.

"C'min!" Fang, Hagrid's boarhound was scraping the door. "Oh, hello, Harry," Hagrid said cheerfully. "Down, Fang! Come back so soon?" Hagrid's beetle-black eyes were full of cheer but upon further inspection, they also looked to be hiding something. Harry wanted to get right to the point.

"You're not lying to me about Sirius, are you, Hagrid?" said Harry, a bit more forceful than he wanted to.

"What?" said Hagrid, taken aback by Harry's accusation. "O' course not! He's in St. Mungo's! Part o' his soul was-"

"I know about that but you see Ron had a dream in Divination a few days ago when we were doing dreams and visions. He saw Sirius and he said something and the only word Ron remembers was 'Cybele' and then he fell to the ground, a zombie again. I don't know if it's real or fake or if he's okay and no one's telling me why he's at St. Mungo's-" He said all this very quickly.

"Blimey, Harry," said Hagrid, surprised and patting him on the shoulder, "I never seen yeh so worried! Sit down," he said pointing at a chair by the fire. Harry was still standing outside. Hagrid eyed him like a father, which was very strange, yet strangely comforting. "The medic witches at St. Mungo's were told ter tell yeh - firs' - if anything came up... and yeh haven't heard a thing, so everything's right... right?"

Harry rearranged himself, pulling his cloak back up, and fixing his hair which had become, if possible, messier, and sat on a huge chair by the fire.

"So..." said Harry slowly, "so Sirius is in St. Mungo's, and... and they're waiting for the other half of his soul to return to him?" He calmed himself down a bit and took the tea Hagrid offered him and, not caring about how bad it might taste, took a slice of rock cake as well.

Hagrid nodded, beaming.

"It's just that" - and Harry took a sip of the tea - "just that if something happens to him, I haven't got anyone else..."

"Nothin' happened ter him," Hagrid assured Harry. Harry's face turned into a smile, which immediately let off some of the pressure he had since Ron told his story, his heart sinking back into his chest. He broke into a weak sort of muffled laugh that lasted about a second.

"I mean, if someone lied," said Harry, laughing at the absurdity of that statement, to which Hagrid's smile suddenly changed. Harry would have finished his sentence, but a different look appeared in Hagrid's beetle-black eyes and the smile in his tangled beard disappeared too.

Harry's heart proceeded to rise up his throat again, heat clouding his forehead. He was worried again. The tension he relieved came back in full force. He stared at Hagrid, not saying anything and Hagrid's eyes avoided Harry's. Someone, clearly, wasn't being truthful. Harry's worries could be very real. The knocking on the door broke the nasty silence.

"Hagrid," Hermione called, "it's us!"

Hagrid immediately began smiling again and started towards the door but Harry beat him to it and put his back against it, preventing Hagrid from opening it and clutched the Order of Merlin plaque. Even that had no effect at this point. It was clear from the sudden change of looks on Hagrid's face, twice; the definite reassuredness from Hagrid that Sirius was just fine; the struggle for words the first time he asked about Sirius and the fact that Hagrid was now sweating; that Sirius was not okay.

"No!" Harry panted. "You ARE lying!" As Harry expected, Hagrid's face became very stern, almost scary.

"Harry!" shouted Hermione from outside, still banging on the door.

"WHAT HAPPENED, HAGRID!" Harry shouted. "WHERE'S SIRIUS?"

Something else hit him. The patient in the corner of the hospital wing... If Hagrid lied, who's to say someone else wasn't lying, too? No, not Sirius... If he's gone... It couldn't be...

Hagrid made a move to grab Harry but he dodged it and flung the door wide open. Outside were Ron and Hermione, looking anxious from what they heard, but nothing near what Harry felt: pure terror over what state Sirius could be in.

"Grab him!" Hagrid shouted. What good would grabbing Harry do? Nothing would stop him from getting to the hospital wing now, not even a balrog with his name on it.

They were all too slow.

Harry slipped through Ron and Hermione's fingers (Hagrid managed to pull Harry's cloak off, tearing it at the shoulders) and darted with more speed than natural up the grass leading into the castle.

The patient in the hospital wing. It couldn't be Sirius... Dumbledore would never be involved in a lie so big. But if there ever was a time to tear the curtains open, now was it.

Harry continued running faster than normal through the corridors and to the hospital wing, heart hammering. He flew past Snape. Dumbledore would never be involved in a lie so big. Madam Pomfrey spotted Harry and tried to stand in his path but he wasn't slowing down or moving out of the way. She flung a hand out but he barreled into it, knocking her clean away.

"Mr. Potter, do not disturb my patients!" she snapped, getting to her feet, clearly disturbed at having been knocked down.

Harry skidded to a halt in front of the familiar closed curtains in the corner. He put a sweaty hand, panting for air, on the side. Madam Pomfrey had gotten up, totally winded from being hit so hard and Harry could hear her coming towards him. Something didn't want him to open the curtain to see what he feared would be there: Sirius, a zombie again, in a worse condition than he had ever been, or worse, completely dead.

It had to be bad or Madam Pomfrey wouldn't be pulling so hard on his arm, which dangled limply at his side, but she was no match. Harry stood his ground as if he was nailed to the spot and her grip felt like a mere feather. He put his free hand on top of her's and peeled it off, gripped her arm, then flung her across the room.

Madam Pomfrey crashed into the far wall and Harry clutched the Order of Merlin plaque. He tore open the curtains, his heart in his throat and what felt like a fifty foot balrog sitting in the pit of his stomach.

He saw but he didn't believe. His eyes were deceiving him. His worst fears were true.

Lying, or rather, looking dead, was Sirius, completely white in the face, staring up at the ceiling above him, with eyes that looked more dead than a real corpse. The sight of which widened Harry's eyes to take in the full picture and the speed of his breath came at an all time high.

Harry swallowed several times but nothing would force his organs back down his throat. He stood there, clutching the plaque in one hand, the other still holding the curtain and he still couldn't believe it. His hand on the plaque had no effect, a testament to how horrified he felt.

All the footsteps became muffled, all the voices calling his name died away along with his will to be standing. All the hands grabbing him felt like a feather pulling him backward and all his might went into mindlessly tightening his grip on the Order of Merlin plaque waiting for it to do something, anything, so hard it cut into Harry's skin -- and he didn't notice, or did he and he just didn't care? His own warm blood dripping down his fingers didn't detract his attention. If Albus Dumbledore, of everyone Harry knew, would lie straight-out to him, it was bad and there were no questions to be asked except how bad.

Harry staggered back a few stops, still not daring to believe it. That wasn't Sirius, that was just a look alike, he thought desperately. He took a few strangled gasps of air.

Maybe it was the loss of blood that made him dizzy, maybe it was the thought of losing Sirius (no parents and now no godfather), maybe it was the guilty feeling burning in the back of his head that he caused Sirius to lose half his soul in the first place or was it the fact that someone slipped a potion down his throat? But Harry's legs became as water, the picture of Sirius faded to black, his hearing failed completely and when a hand on his shoulder pulled him back, Harry fell backwards onto the floor, numb, physically and emotionally, tearing the curtains off the posts.