Harry Potter and the Return to the Riddle House

Chapter Twenty-Five

The Hospital Wing

Harry, Rachel, and Snape rushed from the dark, sinister house and found themselves in the entrance hall at Hogwarts. Without pausing, Snape started to run down the stone floor, towards the hospital wing. In the light from the torches, Harry could see that Rachel's hair was wispy and pale, like Neville's mother, who had been driven insane and nearly died by the same curse. There was still a bit of a yellowish tint, though. Harry prayed that was a good sign.

It was at least midnight, and the halls were empty. They made it to the infirmary quickly; Snape moved to the side so Harry could hammer on the door.

"Madame Pomfrey! Madame Pomfrey!"

The nurse took ages, in Harry's mind, to get to them. She finally opened the door, pulling a bathrobe over her dressing gown and looking curious. She gave a short, rather shrill "Oh!" of surprise when she saw Rachel, but Snape did not pause to explain. He pushed by Madame Pomfrey and quickly laid Rachel on one of the hospital beds, before rushing to a cabinet beside a window.

"Wha... what happened to her?" asked Madame Pomfrey breathlessly, her hand over her mouth.

"Cruciatus Curse," Snape yelled urgently over his shoulder, looking for a potion. "At least eight times..."

"But--surely not a student--"

"No!"

He found what he had been looking for, a small, crystal bottle with some cloudy, opaque liquid in it. He angled Rachel's head slightly up and trickled some into her mouth. There was a very anxious silence. Harry felt his heart was going to burst, come on, Rachel... no....

Quite suddenly, her eyes flew open. She immediately tried to sit up; Snape put a hand on her shoulder and tried to get her to lie down. She slowly calmed.

"Harry! Oh... what... where..."

She still looked very weak. She looked into her father's face, then towards Harry, then, dazed, around the hospital wing. Then she slowly sank back to the pillow and steadied her breathing. Her face was as white as the sheet she was lying on. Harry noticed Snape's was as well. He let out a long breath and took his hand off her shoulder as Madame Pomfrey scurried back to the cabinet, gathering a few more bottles. Harry sat wearily on the bed next to hers.

"What all do you remember?" Snape asked Rachel quietly.

"Um... I was at Hogsmead... then I wasn't... there were a lot of voices... then I was in this... room... and V-Voldemort was saying something like he could get straight to Harry..." She paused and glanced at Snape. He looked up. There was silence; Harry saw the vein in his temple begin to throb.

"What exactly would make him say something like that?" Snape finally whispered, slowly and poisonously.

Rachel glanced at Harry anxiously.

"Uh... I, um..."

But Snape was looking at Harry murderously, his lip curling and his face losing the little color it had regained.

"You..." His voice was strangled with fury; he swept around the side of Rachel's bed and reflexively pulled out his wand. Rachel hurriedly slid off the mattress and grabbed his arm, swaying slightly. Snape did not raise his wand, but he shouted at Harry, his face twisted with rage.

"You could have had her killed!"

"Dad... it wasn't all Harry's fault..."

"Did you even stop to think? Did you remember all the times Granger and Weasley followed you around and ended up in here?"

"Wait... don't--"

"You were willing to risk her life for a little fun?"

"Leave him alone!"

Snape looked down at Rachel; seeming to notice her for the first time.

"Lie down before you hurt yourself," he hissed dangerously.

"I'm fine," Rachel started to say, but her knees buckled and she had to grab the bedside table. She reluctantly sat back on her bed, wincing slightly. Snape rounded on her, his voice only slightly less menacing.

"And what the hell did you think you were doing?"

"I knew what we were getting into!" Rachel said, slightly indignantly. "I--"

"No, you didn't!" Snape interrupted scornfully.

"I did! And it wouldn't have mattered anyway, they took me at first because of you!"

"Well, they kept you because of him! You nearly died, Rachel!"

"Harry almost got himself killed to save me, how is that possibly not good enough?" They were both shouting now, even though Rachel looked barely strong enough to sit up.

"It's not good enough because it'll happen again! Is he worth your life?" A ringing silence fell. Rachel looked suddenly calm.

"Yes," she almost whispered.

Snape's expression slowly melted away. He stared at Rachel as though he had never seen her before. She didn't look away and her face didn't change, looking back at him with a sort of timid but bare honesty. There was a very long pause. Snape abruptly turned on his heel and swept away. Harry thought he was going to leave; apparently, Rachel did too. She looked at the floor and ran a hand through her hair, collapsing faintly onto her pillows. She blinked.

But Snape just stalked over to Madame Pomfrey, who was standing, quite frozen with shock, with a few more bottles in her arms. He took one and went back to Rachel, pouring out a capful and saying stonily,

"You need to drink all of this. It'll help with the long-term effects."

Rachel looked at him for a while, and then slowly took the cup of potion. She drank it all and shuddered. Harry was still thinking about what she had said. She... she would die for him... then he realized the only time he had been worried for himself was when he was actually dueling Voldemort, and even then, she was in the back of his mind, as the reason he was there. He hadn't hesitated, he had even fought, to go and help her... he would've died for her as well; he would even before he knew that he would.... Harry turned the thought over in his mind, and it still seemed true. He would die for her. He would've died for her...

The door creaked open and Lupin and McGonagall stepped in. Harry stood up.

"How is everyone?" he asked.

"Fine. Kingsley and Gallagher and some Ministry Aurors will spend some time in St. Mungo's, but other then little things, everyone else is okay. Dumbledore doesn't have a scratch, of course. But how are you?" he asked, frowning concernedly.

Harry realized he was extremely tired.

"You get some sleep, Harry," Lupin said. Harry sat back on a bed as Lupin made his way over to Madame Pomfrey. He asked her for some potion to cure mosquito bites, and as she had her back turned, McGonagall pointed a wand at her and whispered "Obliviate!" Lupin smiled at Harry and turned off one of the lamps. Snape gave Rachel another potion for the pain, and she, too, lay back on her bed, plainly sore and exhausted. The last thing Harry saw was a fleeting look that Snape gave Rachel. He tried to place it... and it came to him. That was exact same almost frightened expression he had, years ago, when he left his baby daughter in a cot at the Connor's house in London.

Harry could think no more, his heavy eyelids closed themselves and he was asleep before his head touched the pillow.

Chapter Twenty-Six

Recovery

Harry woke the next morning to sunlight already shining through the windows. It looked to be about eight-thirty or nine. He put on his glasses; the first thing he saw was Rachel, still in the bed next to him. Her eyes were closed and her face and hair were still pale, but the sheets over her chest and stomach were rising and falling gently. Then he saw Snape, asleep in a chair by the bed. His head was bowed and he was unshaven; he must have been there all night. After a few minutes, the door creaked open and Snape's head jerked up. Chris and little Ian were standing in the doorway; as soon as Ian saw his sister, he ran towards the bed.

"Don't wake--" Snape said in a hoarse voice, but Ian had already jumped on her bed and shouted her name. Rachel gasped slightly as she woke, but when she saw who it was, she smiled and hugged him.

"Are you alright?" Chris asked anxiously, hovering by the side of the bed. He, too, looked tired, and had plainly been terrified. Rachel grinned and sat up, saying,

"I'm fine--" she cut herself off with a grimace, and laid back down. "--as long as I lay down..."

Chris stayed with her all day. When he saw Harry was awake, somberly thanked him, grasping his hand briefly and meeting him straight in the eye. Harry might've felt awkward, but somehow didn't. Snape slipped out sometime when Harry wasn't paying attention. He had a steady stream of visitors, including Lupin, who quietly explained to him a shortened version of what he already knew about Rachel (Harry had to pretend again to be uninformed; he didn't want to surrender the Extendable Ears) and Dumbledore himself. The latter slipped into the hospital wing at about ten o'clock, as Rachel was taking another round of potions from Madame Pomfrey, and came to stand by Harry's bed.

"Harry," he said. He looked as Harry remembered from two years ago--very old, and very tired--but smiled as he met his eyes. "How are you?"

"I'm fine," Harry replied, and it was true--he felt he had hardly gotten a scratch the night before. "Professor... what happened? Back there, with Voldemort? And... how did you know..." He trailed off as Dumbledore gently held up his hand, smiling.

"I will answer any questions, Harry, but I am old and you must give me a moment to think. Now... first, back at the Riddle House..." he settled back into a chair Harry was sure wasn't there before, looking like a grandfather getting ready to tell a story. "I believe I am about as prepared to answer that question as you are--I am not sure. My best guess is that it was the raw manifestation two very powerful magic sources, both of which strongly desired the same thing." His face was somber but his eyes twinkled at Harry. "Or, more basically, we were having a very intense tug-of-war." Dumbledore allowed him a conspiratorial smile. Harry grinned back and the headmaster sighed, but his gaze remained light. "As for your other question... why, Harry, that wasn't magic. Now I am beginning to wonder if I did the right thing, but I am fairly confident I did. You agree, don't you, that you would have hardly been prepared to consummate the most extraordinary and imperative battle of quite a few centuries in the condition you were in?" Harry thought about this, surprised, but then nodded. "Now," Dumbledore said, "I can hardly promise better conditions for the actual encounter. In fact, I can almost assure you they will be just as... intimidating. But I can at least give you full magical training, and a little time more time to prepare." Their eyes met again and Harry gave another solemn nod. "But you will be ready, Harry. I promise you I will do everything I can. And I am quite sure you will, too." Harry glanced over at Rachel, finishing the last of a nasty-looking tray of tonics.

"I will."

"Good, good..." Dumbledore muttered, almost to himself, then seemed to come alive once more. "Well, I am afraid I must go and take care of some personal things, not the least of which is finding a place that can hide a very large mirror."

"Oh, wait, sir..." Dumbledore turned back to Harry and gave him his full attention.

"Yes--? Ah, of course. Forgive me. That was a DiDictio Glass, a two-way mirror that allows for much better conversation than slow owls or uncomfortable Floo Powder. I managed to acquire one of the very admirable pair Tom Riddle Sr. kept. We intended to use it for such, ah... negotiations.... I thought saving time might save lives. But it ought to be moved after each communication, merely to avoid the slightest chance Voldemort get any useful information from its surroundings." Dumbledore bid him good day and was leaving, when Harry suddenly remembered something.

"Oh, Professor... um... try the door opposite that tapestry of Barnabus the Barmy, on the seventh floor... do you know how to work it?" Dumbledore smiled.

"Precisely what I was thinking."

***

For a brief moment when Chris took Ian to find a bathroom, Harry slid off his bed and sat at the foot of Rachel's. In a silly way, he wanted to stay as close to her as possible.

"Hey," she said.

"Are you feeling alright?" Harry asked, for she was leaning back against the headboard and closing her eyes wearily.

"Yeah, I'm fine. The worst of the after effects was last night. I'm just worn out."

They were quiet for a while. There had been a burning feeling of guilt in Harry's chest for the past few hours that tripled as he saw her, pale and fragile looking. It was his fault...

"Rachel..." Something in his voice made her sit up.

"What is it?" she said, sounding concerned.

"I just... I..." All Harry's breath escaped him in one short, harsh exhale and he bit his lip. "I'm so sorry... for... everything..."

"Harry--no, don't... just... think of it as one more reason to fight against him, Harry..."

"Rachel, I--I really could have gotten you killed..."

"Harry." Rachel cut him off. "I... I meant what I said..." Her voice was barely a whisper. She glanced up and their eyes met. Harry hesitated for half an instant, and took her cold hand.

"I--I feel the same way..." His cheeks flushed slightly and he looked down. Rachel let out a tiny laugh.

"It's weird, isn't it?"

Harry laughed and nodded.

"Yeah..."

"Kinda scary...."

He grinned and nodded again.

"...yeah."

Their eyes met again. Both of their smiles melted, but not in a painful or angered way. Harry's breath caught slightly in his throat. He knew what he might say, possibly should say, but thought he would sound rather foolish. Then he looked at her again.

"I..."

The door opened and Ian bounded happily back inside.

"Rachel, guess what? There was a gargoyle in the hallway that said hi to me!" The little boy hopped back on her bed and she smiled at him.

"Wow, really?"

Harry let him chatter and made room for him by sitting back on his own bed. He was slightly disappointed to be cut off, but he was pretty sure Rachel figured out what he was going to say. His glance met hers and their smiles grew for a few seconds before she looked down, blushing and grinning. Maybe he didn't even need to finish his sentence.

***

Around noon, Ron and Hermione showed up.

"What does everyone know?" he asked them hurriedly when Chris and Ian left again, this time to get some lunch. Rachel looked up.

"Well, they've pretty much found out about you two," Hermione said, nodding to Rachel and Harry, "But they had to notice Snape was here... we just told them he made a mistake somehow, and that was how they took Rachel, so he stayed behind to see how she was... they've been buying it." Rachel and Harry both nodded.

"And everybody's alright," Ron added. "Mum's upset that Fred and George managed to go and fight... something about how she's lost two brothers and doesn't want to lose any of her children..." His gaze wandered slightly but he snapped back after a second. "But they're okay."

"Your mother had brothers?" Rachel said. "I didn't know that..."

"Yeah," Ron shrugged. "Fabian and Gideon. But they died fighting Voldemort before I was born. I think Fred and George were babies."

"Fabian..." Harry said aloud, glancing at Rachel. He knew she recognized the name, too.

"What?" said Hermione.

"Uh... nothing."

Madame Pomfrey came just then with one of Rachel's potions, so they fell back into typical conversations about Quidditch teams and classes.

***

By the time Rachel was strong enough to leave the hospital wing, classes were done and it was nearly time for the school train to leave. Harry took her on a last walk around the lake, ignoring the people who pointed and whispered. When evening fell they headed back towards the castle, laughing like they usually did. They split up at the main doors; Rachel was going to get her broom so they could toss a Quaffle around.

He was waiting for her by the foot of the stairs when he heard somebody call his name.

"Potter!"

It was Snape. Harry wondered what he was doing here.

"I'm going to assume, Potter that you mean to keep seeing her," he said, without pretext. Harry didn't need to ask whom they were talking about.

"Yeah," he said, a little defiantly. Snape scowled.

"Don't give me that, Potter, if there was a bloody thing I could do to stop you, believe me, I would." He leaned closer to Harry, so that their faces were barely a foot apart and hissed,

"All I came to do is say that if you ever, ever put Rachel in that kind of danger again, I will personally make you very sorry indeed. I don't care what happens. Dumbledore may only care about getting you out of the way and saving your own skin, but I'm watching you. And if you get her in that state again, you will pay."

Harry looked up and was about to reply insolently when he saw a very faint, white line above Snape's eyebrow. It was the scar from the night Rachel was born. Harry's mind flashed, for just a moment, not to the man who had made Potions class hell and terrorized students, but to the man who had held his newborn in his arms and prayed for her safety.

He looked him in the eyes. He thought he saw a trace of fear in them, but it was gone. Snape was looking at him menacingly.

"Don't worry," Harry said shortly. Snape held his gaze for a moment and swept back down the hallway, with a short "This isn't over."

***

The next day, Harry stood in front of the scarlet steam engine with Rachel. Her hair, still rather light, blew around her face and Harry's. He didn't mind.

"So, where are you going to stay for the summer?" he asked.

"Grimmauld Place," she replied, sighing. "I'll miss you... eat a Chocolate Frog for me on the train."

"You're flying there with your dad, and Lupin, right?"

"Yeah, extra security or something, keeping us apart...right... but I'll probably be here a few days. I'll help Hagrid with Grawp. Shine the House and Quidditch Cups." She and Harry both smiled, the memory of the Great Hall decorated in red and gold still fresh in their minds.

"Harry... be careful, okay?"

He looked her in the eye.

"You too." Then he grinned. "And keep an Extendable Ear out for news." She laughed.

"I will."

The whistle blew and Harry looked back at the train; a few people were saying goodbye to Hagrid and Professor McGonagall, who were ushering them onto the train.

Harry turned back to Rachel and, in a rush of recklessness, kissed her goodbye.

"I thought you never would!" she called after him, as he ran to leap onto the train. He laughed and waved out of the window; he hadn't left in such high spirits since he was in second or third year.

The trip itself was uneventful, except when Malfoy tried to ambush him as usual as he got some pumpkin juice for himself, Ron, and Hermione, but Sam McClaggan clubbed him with his Beater's bat. Harry laughed. It had never been put to better use.

Harry read Flying With the Cannons and Rachel's borrowed Flying With the Kestrels on the way back, as Ron and Hermione were talking quite happily with each other, Ginny was in Neville's compartment, and Luna was... Luna. When they passed through the stone barrier into the Muggle world and he managed to tear the couples apart, he hugged everyone goodbye. He was sure to stand with Moody, who came to see the Weasleys back to Grimmauld Place, as Uncle Vernon, who was the only one brave enough to venture from the car this year, came to fetch him. Harry wondered if he would recognize Moody. He did.

Harry longed to follow him and the others back to Grimmauld Place, but after Mrs. Weasley's bone-cracking hug, he set off towards the car, in front of Uncle Vernon, his thoughts only on the next September and what the new term would bring.

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