Crimson Dragon's Scale

Chapter Three: Roads of Forgetfulness, Roses of Truth

Harry curled up in the empty shed and shivered. It was very slightly warmer in here, but the hay was very sparse, and there was just cold, bitter dirt beneath his feet.

Morning would be warmer, he promised himself. Maybe he could get back out to the highway and find a car, and get a ride without attracting too much attention.

But he would have to walk the cruel gravel road again, or try to climb twice over a barbed-wire fence to walk on soft earth, and neither of these options appealed to him. His feet were bound with what had once been blue shirtsleeves and now were serving for bloodsoaked purple socks. The sharp razors of grasses and the unrelenting dirt road's sharp rocks had torn the soles of his feet to ribbons, and the barbed wire of the fence had snagged his arm.

The darkness was complete, inside and outside. He tried to hold onto conciousness longer. He thought of Ron and Ginny and Hermione, and imagined each of them, or tried to; the images of their faces were growing cloudly and would soon become lost in the tangled forest of his mind.

***

It was still nighttime, and Sirius was very agitated. It had taken Charlie, who was now the only other one in the house, almost an hour to convince Sirius that everything that could be done was being done. It had taken a further seventeen minutes, the first five of which he had ducked Stunners, to convince Sirius to stay and have something to eat before taking the extra broomstick and searching Britan inch by inch for his godson.

So now Charlie was sitting in front of he stove and trying to remember how to make a bacon omelette without burning anything and attempting to ignore the indistinct sounds Sirius was making from behing him.

He put the eggs into a frying pan and tapped the stove with his wand. Sirius sighed heavily suddenly, and Charlie turned from prodding the cheese and persuading it to slice unsucessfully. He stared for a moment at Sirius' pale, drawn, unhappy face, then turned back and searched several drawers until he found a meat cleaver. It would have to do. He chopped the cheese into rough slices as quickly as he could and dropped them in the pan. In the second pan he dropped four slices of bacon, and after making sure Sirius wasn't watching, added a bit of Firewhiskey to the egg and melting cheese.

The bacon cooked quickly enough, and he crumbled it into the omelette. Then he turned back to Sirius. "Where are the plates?" he asked.

"Third cupboard to the right of the sink."

Charlie looked in the cupboard with some trepidation. To his surprise, there were plates in there, underneath a collander, four bowls, and a cobwebbed candy dish, along an empty bottle of rum.

He attempted to pull two of the plates out from under the rest without touching the cobwebs; he shared his brother's fear of spiders and anything to do with them. Most unfortunately for him, the bowls were ceramic, and the candy dish was glass. Sirius just stared at the shattered fragments decorating the floor. Charlie swore.

***

"Harry...Harry!"

"Ginny, where are you?"

"It's too dark, Harry. I'm coming. Are you all right?"

"Ginny, it's too late."

"No! Harry, hold on! I'll get you out of here - we're looking - what is this place?"

"No, Ginny." Harry stepped out of the shadows. Ginny reeled backwards, trying to gasp, to cry, to breathe. "It's too late."

Black blood dripped with sickening splattering sounds onto the dirt ground from the gaping hole in his chest.

***

"No!"

Ginny gasped and sat up. The room was empty. No. It was a dream. No. Harry...no. Her sheets were tangled around her like snakes. Were there snakes in the Chamber of Secrets?

No.

Yes, there were.

You know what Dumbledore said!

The snakes twisted and writhed, or so it seemed. And a boy stood solemn before the statue, smiling, becoming less ghostly as she fell deeper into sleep.

Stop it! she cried to herself. Stop it! Cold...it's so cold...

***

A dark stretch of grass. A man sitting calmly on it. Alone. No, not a man. A monster. A twisted mockery. Voldemort.

"Hello," he said quietly, and she jumped. She was silent. Her breath was fast. No, she moaned. Where's Harry?

"I remember you," he said quietly. "Ginny. Virginia Elene Weasley. I actually found you mildly attractive then, imagine. The Chamber...Lucius gave me the diary, you see. I regained its memories. Some were lost, shattered, when your hero so wisely destroyed my book."

"What..." I'm talking to Voldemort. This is ludicrious. It's dark. The moon is a crescent and high, very high. There are no clouds in the sky. "What have you done to him?"

"Do you really want to know?"

"Yes."

"You," he said with some amusement, "will address me as 'my Lord' or 'Master'. Or I will kill him very slowly in front of you. I will torture him to death. I will tie his hands and feet and use the Cruciatus Curse on him until he dies. It will take a very long time, and I will enjoy it greatly. It was so easy to take him. I enjoyed hearing him scream."

"He escaped?" Ginny gasped, sucking in her breath like she had been punched. "What did you do to his hand?"

"He didn't escape," Voldemort said, waving his hand dismissively. "And it's his leg that hurts."

"You're lying," Ginny said, shaking her head hard. "I knew Tom Riddle. You are Tom Riddle. He...you put yourself into me. But you didn't kill me. I have some of you. I can tell when you lie. I can see it and feel it. Just like you can tell when someone else is lying."

"Just as I know you are lying now," he sighed. "Trying to get me to say some rubbish. 'Nonsense, dear Virginia, he's in Bristol at the apple orchard.'" He laughed cruelly. "I'm not stupid, and I happen to be quite sane."

Ginny closed her eyes and focused on her room, the two empty beds, her bed unmade, the pictures on the wall, Elizabeth's Arrows poster.

Nothing happened.

"You didn't honestly think you could pull the same trick twice?"

***

Ron shivered and tried to warm his hands by the fire. It was dying down. He was quite sure that the common room was empty, but he kept looking around. Hermione would be back soon with Harry's wand.

He remembered suddenly the last time he had done this. When he and Harry weren't talking. He had sat before the fire and rubbed his forehead and cried. Why was he so awful? Why couldn't he be a good friend to Harry when Harry was in danger. He had seen it, that night, in Harry's eyes. He hadn't put his name in. But Harry had lied. He knew why someone had put his name in, or guessed why, and so had Ron.

He turned around again, wondering if he should go up to Ginny and calm her and talk to her.

No, he decided. They all needed to cope in their own ways, and Ginny coped best alone.

***

Harry woke long before sunrise, several times. His feet were swollen and throbbed almost as bed as his hand and his forehead. He woke the final time as the first rays of morning peered through the cracks and decided to leave as quickly as possible, before things got worse.

He climbed to his feet and collapsed immediately with a moan. He tried again. This time he managed to keep his balance long enough to stumble over to the wall and lean against it, nearly sobbing with the pain in his hand and feet.

He looked around. The shed was empty except for the hay, and that was dirty. There were cracks between the boards. He couldn't stay here.

I don't want to die...

Cedric. Cedric would want me to live.

No. He must hate me. I told him to take it with me.

Did I?

Yes, of course. It was my fault, and he knows it. It's my fault he died.

I can't avenge him if I die here. I made it this far. I have to get out to the road. Maybe someone will give me a ride. I need a ride to Hogwarts, please.

I won't make it that far. I'll collapse again out in the cold.

No. You need to try. Think of Ginny and Ron and Hermione...Ginny, please help me.

***

Voldemort shook his head. "Really, Virginia, there's nothing you can do for him. Whatever I did to his hand, it will kill him."

He's telling the truth, Ginny thought, staring at him, and stumbled backwards, falling to the ground.

"Yes," he hissed. "Look at him now."

The Dark Lord held up his hands. Above him, a smoky sort of fog appeared and expanded into an oval about four feet by two feet. The fog cleared in the middle. An image was there, and Ginny watched with a dull sense of horror, feeling sick. It was Harry, lying on his back in a ditch. His face was pale and sweaty. Blood soaked through his shirt. His glasses were gone. His hair and face were both filthy. He was moaning and gasping raggedly. "No..." he moaned as Ginny watched. "Professor...please help me...Remus..."

Ginny realized something quite abruptly, and smiled. The image vanished, and Voldemort lowered his hands. "What is it now, Virginia?"

"Three things," Ginny said, trying to make her voice cool. "One - he isn't shivering, and that shirt is thin. He'd be freezing. Two - he never called Professor Lupin 'Remus' in his life. Third - he always says 'Dumbledore' or 'Professor Dumbledore,' not 'Professor'. Therefore, that isn't real."

"You aren't very bright, are you?" Voldemort laughed.

Ginny smiled. "Well then," she said calmly, "if it really is him, tell me that. Say, 'That is really Harry.'"

"Are you making a demand of me?"

Ginny raised her chin. Harry is dying. I have to save him. "Yes."

***

Hermione walked into the common room. Ron was asleep by the fire. Ginny was nowhere to be found.

She glanced around. Then she walked up the stairs to Harry's dormitory and opened the door. It was empty, one open window chilling the entire room. Hermione walked slowly over to Harry's bed. And she buried her face in his neat pillow, drowning herself in his scent.

After a very long time, she stood and smoothed the pillow out. She walked down, then up the stairs to the girls' dormitory. Something made her heart pound. When she passed the fourth-years' door, there was an icy blast.

She burst into the frigid room. Ginny was lying on her bed, as if asleep. But her skin was again translucent, and her heartbeat sluggish. Hermione put a hand hastily above her mouth and felt for breath. At first she felt nothing. Then a very, very faint tickle on her palm.

"Oh, God," Hermione moaned. "Oh, my God. Oh, no. Oh, no."

She threw herself down the stairs and into the common room. "Ron!" she screamed. Ron started awake and saw Hermione's ghost-white face and frightened, trembling hands. "Ginny - she - I need Dumbledore immediately!"

"No, I'll go up. Hermione, you -"

"NO! Ron, go get Dumbledore now! As fast as you can, run!" Ron nodded quickly and sprinted out of the common room.

Hermione bolted back up the stairs and into Ginny's room. Ginny was still. Hermione thought for a moment that she could see through Ginny's eyelids - but no.

Hermione suddenly shivered violently, and sank onto her knees. Even when Dumbledore and Ron burst in, she couldn't stop shaking.

She heard Dumbledore tell Ron to get out of here, and take her with, and tried to protest, to say she could help. Before she could say anything intelligible, she fainted back into Ron's arms.

***

Harry!

He started. Ginny? There was no answer.

He continued along the road slowly, still tripping every few steps. Just a little bit farther, he told himself.

He collapsed when he got to the roadside. It looked empty. Maybe someone would come by once the sun was fully up...he would have to see.

He sat up after a while and pulled his knees up to his chest, shivering a bit now. His makeshift socks had worn thorugh just as he got to the road, and were now useless bloodstained tatters. He sighed and rubbed his good hand against his face, trying to warm up.

After about a half hour, a car passed without stopping. Harry sighed and lay back onto the soft grass. Someone would see him eventually, he thought. He'd just lay here until somebody stopped.

***

Ron paced back and forth next to Hermione's bed. He wanted to do something. He felt useless just standing here. He wanted to maybe talk to Hermione, but she hadn't stirred or made a sound since she'd fainted against him back in Ginny's room an hour ago, and he'd carried her in here and lay her on her bed, covering her warmly.

He lay a hand on her forehead. It might have been a bit cool, but she wasn't too bad. He sat on the edge of the bed and rubbed a piece of her hair between two long fingers. It was thick and soft - he wondered if she charmed it that way. It was also very delicate and precise, like her face. He loved the way she smiled, her mouth twitching first, then curving so slowly up into a soft, gentle, almost hesitant grin. It made her eyes look happier, and her jaw stood out more in sharp detail.

He remembered suddenly the Yule Ball, how beautiful she had looked, how he had seen her in a different light. It was as if someone had told him exactly how he was supposed to feel and he had felt that way - like it was perfect. The realization, the reality of when he had first seen her there...he remembered how angry he was at Viktor Krum - the nerve of him! - and at Hermione for going with him in the first place, and for not telling them that she was. He had said he was just angry because she was competing against Harry, and it had been a lie. She must have seen it, too. He felt terrible about it now, of course - he hadn't asked her - and he wished he could be given a second chance. He would ask her right away if he could try it all over again. He was sure he would.

He thought of Ginny again, and sighed. Things were happening dangerously quickly.

Chapter Four: Stirring of Fate

Voldemort paced in a circle calmly, looking at Ginny. "Well..." he said cooly. "Perhaps you're more intelligent than I thought. Oh, well. It doesn't matter. You know he's dying, and you really don't have any idea as to where he is. I'll know when he dies, of course, and I'll tell you. Maybe I'll let you go back then."

Ginny! Ginny, please!

Ginny started and climbed to her feet. "Where is this place?"

"Yes, rather impressive, isn't it?"

Ginny foced calmness onto her face and arched an eyebrow. "You're really very full of yourself." She felt an uncontrollable urge to giggle. She obviously had no idea how to address an evil overlord. She was talking as she would to Draco Malfoy.

Voldemort smiled. "Yes, I rather think I am," he said calmly. "Wouldn't you be, if you had resurrected from a state of near-death?"

Ginny shrugged and decided to continue. "Myself, I'm not really into the taking-over-the-world thing."

What's wrong with me? she wondered. I'm having a civil conversation with Voldemort! Well, not civil. I'm mocking him.

"You know, Virginia, you're very conflicting. Perhaps you're not as intelligent as you seem."

"Well, the Sorting Hat didn't put me in Ravenclaw."

"Yes," the Dark Lord said, sounding thoughful. There was silence a moment. Then he continued. "You know, I enjoy killing people. Do you think it would work with you?"

Ginny shrugged. "Most ghosts aren't really affected by the whole killing-curse deal."

"You," Voldemort pointed out, "are not a ghost."

Ginny pretended to reflect on this. She thought about everything she had heard about Voldemort. This was him? He was quite a laughable prat. He seemed to be almost negotiably cunning, although definitely evil, definitely Slytherin. This was the man who had killed Harry's parents?

***

Dumbledore sighed and settled back on his heels. The situation was seeming more and more hopeless. Everything was happening at once...he felt a dull ache from his forehead and wondered if this was what Harry endured.

He had tried every spell he could think of, to no avail. He lifted Ginny's limp hand and whispered to her. "Ginny, come back." Nothing. "Miss Weasley, please, you must return to us or lose everything. Ginny..."

The girl took a deep shuddering breath. "N-no..." she gasped. He held her hand tighter. "Ginny, come back to us. Help us. Help us save Harry. Please, Ginny, return."

She woke, and Dumbledore sighed very heavily. "Please, Ginny, don't try to speak. Think about Ron. He's extremely worried about you. Good. Now," he spoke gently, and helped her to sit up against the wall, "wait here and think about Ron and Hermione while I go get them."

"All right..." Ginny's voice was weak, trembling, and barely audible.

Dumbledore knocked on the next door. Ron answered, pale and looking as if he feared the worst. Hermione was sitting anxiously behind him. Dumbledore looked Ron in the eye. "She's awake."

Ron let out his breath shakily.

"You MUST NOT ask her about anything that happened, and if she starts talking about it try to change the subject. I do not want her thinking about it, or she will be drawn back."

The two teenagers nodded, and followed Dumbledore into Ginny's room.

***

"It's not like anything I've seen before."

"What isn't? There are many strange things about him."

"Well, the scar, for one. The thing on his hand - it looks like a chemical acid burn or something. And his vital rates...well, they aren't good and they're very strange."

"Poison - acid?"

"Maybe. But he hasn't woken. And his feet are sliced to ribbons. His shirt is torn and burned. I'm going to call up Varela."

"All right. Fine. And get his picture up too. We need to know who exactly he is and what the hell he was doing lying by the roadside."

"What about the woman that brought him in? She's still here."

"Have her come in here. I need to talk to her."

A door opening, and closing. A woman's voice. "What's wrong with him, doctor?"

"We really don't know, Mrs. Eisenwick. It looks like he - or someone - spilled some sort of acid on his arm. Maybe drugged him and dumped him out in the middle of nowhere. His feet are bloody too, it looks like he walked barefoot a long way."

"Is he awake?"

"No, ma'am. Are you sure you're no relation to him? You've never seen him before?"

"I haven't. Oh, when I saw him lying there, I was so terrified, though. I thought he was dead. Poor dear...he can't be more than sixteen. And that scar on his forehead...so peculiar, like someone cut it with a razor. But it's old, isn't it?"

"I'd say so. Ma'am, we're all very worried about the boy. Handiq there is getting our superior. We don't know what to do."

Harry groaned, and opened his eyes. The doctor spun around.

"There now son, careful. Easy there. You're in a safe place. You need to rest. What happened to your arm?"

"Blood...it spilled on my arm...need to find Dumbledore..."

"Calm down, now, you need to just rest here. That's it. What's your name?"

"Harry Potter."

"Where are your parents?"

Harry opened his eyes again. "They're dead."

"I'm sorry. Where do you stay?"

"I live at my school."

"Where is it?"

"Near the...I don't know..."

"All right, it's okay. Now, Harry, how old are you?"

"Fifteen."

"How did you get out by the highway?"

"Got kidnapped...ran away...my hand...lost my wand...need to get to London."

"Wand?"

"I don't know...my head...hard to breathe..."

"Shit. Harry, you've been poisoned. I need your legal guardian to be able to help you. Who is that?"

"Sirius Black," said Harry, and regretted it instantly. Sirius' name was well-known even among the Muggles.

"Harry, you must be delirious. I need to know your legal guardian. Was it Black who kidnapped you?"

"No. Sirius' my godfather. He didn't do it. Get...Professor Lupin. He'll know what to do."

"What's the name again?"

"Professor Remus J. Lupin. He lives near Bristol, on the outskirts. Just...send someone to him. He doesn't have a phone." Harry groaned and clutched at his forehead with his good hand.

"What happened to your head?"

"I don't know. When I was a baby and my parents were killed."

"All right, Harry, I'll send someone to find Mr. Lupin quickly."

"But I need to get to London."

"Kid...Harry, you've been burned and poisoned. I'd be surprised if you could stand."

"If I don't get to London, it'll kill me. There's only one cure, and I can't describe how to get it...oh, God...got any asprin?"

"It might react with the poison."

"I don't care. It won't. I need asprin. Tell someone to find Professor Lupin. Or the Weasleys. Better yet. They live outside Ottery St. Catchpole. I think they have a phone. They can help me. I need a special kind of medicine. Call Arthur Weasley."

The man nodded and hurried out of the room. Harry groaned. It had been Voldemort's plan all along. A slow and painful death. Oh, Ginny, please help me.

***

Ring. Ring. Ring.

Molly stared at the telephone. "Arthur, that Muggle thing is ringing."

"What? The telephone? It must be a Muggle - what do you think -" Arthur exclaimed.

"Our name's in those books. The Muggle ones, with addresses. You registered it."

Ring. Ring.

"Pick it up, dear."

Arthur did.

"Hello? Yes, this is Arthur Weasley." He paled suddenly. "Oh, my God..." He covered the mouthpiece. "Molly, Floo the Gryffindor common room." He gasped. "All right. What's the address? All right. Yes. Yes, I know who his guardians are. I'll notify them immediately. Thank you. Tell Harry we'll send Dumbledore. Just say the Headmaster, then. Fine. Goodbye."

Arthur turned to the fireplace.

***

Dumbledore looked up as Hermione walked into Ginny's room again. "Dumbledore, Mr. Weasley's Calling. He says it's a matter of life and death."

Dumbledore stood quickly. "Stay here, please, Miss Granger."

Hermione nodded and sat down where Dumbledore had been next to Ginny. The old Headmaster hurried down to the common room. As soon as he knelt before the fire, Arthur spoke in a shaky but quick voice. "Headmaster, what the hell is going on? Harry...Professor, I just got a call from a Muggle hospital. They have him. He's been poisoned. They think he's dying. His hand is burned deep with some sort of acid, they thought. His heart rate is sluggish. It's hard for him to breathe. He said he ran away from the man who kidnapped him. Very groggy. A Muggle woman found him half-dead and frozen by the side of the highway about an hour ago."

Dumbledore's mouth was half open. "Address," he breathed. "Give me the location."

Arthur did so. Then - "Voldemort, I assume?"

"Yes. Many problems. They caught Harry and I both, and let me go, God knows why. I can't talk now. I'll Call you later. Call Charlie, tell him to tell SB that they've found him."

"SB. Sirius Black. Molly told me. Ron told her. Do the other kids know? Ron and Hermione?"

"Yes. Goodbye, Arthur."

Chapter Five: Strings of a Puppet

Dumbledore looked up and down the hallways and became visible again. He hurried to the front desk.

"Excuse me, I heard they brought in a boy about an hour ago. Harry Potter. I need to find his room number. I'm his Headmaster. His guardian couldn't immediately be reached."

"Room four-oh-seven. I'm sorry...he's not expected to live."

"He will. I know what he needs."

"I hope so, sir."

"Thank you."

Dumbledore hurried up to the fourth floor. The hall was mostly empty. Outside room 407 sat a middle-aged woman. "Hello," he said to her quietly. "Were you the one who brought Harry in?"

"Oh - yes," she said, flustered.

"I'm his headmaster. I hope to be able to help him. Where did you find him?"

"On the highway, about six miles east and ten south. I hope you can help him."

"So do I. Thank you so much for bringing him in. He's more important than you will know."

"I just hope he makes it," the woman said. Dumbledore nodded, put a hand on her shoulder comfortingly, took a deep breath, and walked into the room.

Harry lay on a bed against the wall, apparently asleep. A doctor sat in a chair by his side, watching him silently, not turning when Dumbledore came in. The old wizard's breath caught when he saw Harry. His face was very much like Ginny's had been; almost translucent, and his breathing was unsteady and fast. One hand on the covers was bandaged, and his shoulder.

He slowly approached Harry's side. The doctor looked up at him. "Are you his headmaster?"

Dumbledore nodded gravely. "How long do you give him?"

The doctor shook his head. "I don't know. A week at most. He'd probably drop into a coma after about two or three days. He'll suffer. I've never seen this before."

"Doctor, I can help him, but not here."

"Are you suggesting taking him out of here? Hey, how did you get here so fast, anyway. Got a plane or something?"

"Or something. Yes, I suggest taking him out of here. He has a chance of survival then. He has none here, correct?"

"Not unless there's a miracle. You're mad if you think I'd let you take him."

"There's another hospital that has the cure. I'm taking him there."

"Sir -"

"Thank you very much for helping Harry. I'm sorry, doctor. Stupefy!"

Dumbledore sighed and lifted Harry. He seemed light, but his face was pale and shadowed, and his head hung limply over Dumbledore's arm. He Apperated directly to St. Mungo's.

***

"Ron, they found Harry." Hermione's voice trembled.

"Oh, God. Is he..."

Hermione flung herself onto her bed next to Ron. She buried her face in Ron's chest, and he hugged her awkwardly. "Hermione, is he..."

"He's been poisoned," she sobbed into his sweater. "They give him a week if they can't find a cure. He'll go into a coma in three days. Oh, God, Ron."

Ron sat stiffly in one place, his arms wrapped around Hermione, his mouth hanging open. "Is he at St. Mungo's?" he whispered. Hermione nodded against his chest.

"Then we've got to go there," he said, and she straightened, her face streaked with tears. "We've got to see him. Come on."

"But Ginny -"

"We'll take her too."

"But if she sees Harry she'll think about Voldemort."

"Don't say his name, dammit! No she won't, she'll think about Harry."

"I know, Ron, but if there's a chance..."

"There is. Let's ask her then. If she wants to come."

"Oh, Ron, don't be stupid, of course she'll come. She won't think of herself, she'll think of him!"

"Yes - him, not You-Know-Who!"

"Ron, she can't use magic anyway. She can't even touch her wand. It's safer here. She can go later."

"She's going to kill us for this."

"I know. I don't care. She can't come until later."

"Hermione..."

"I know, Ron."

***

Charlie sat down heavily. Sirius turned to look at him. "What'd he have to say?" Sirius asked.

Charlie took a deep breath, but couldn't speak.

Sirius drew in a ragged breath. "Did he...he's not..."

Charlie shook his head. "They...they found him, alive, but he's...been poisoned, and they don't know...they don't know what to do...gave him a week, three days of it concious...God. What'll Ron say?"

"Ron's already there," Sirius whispered. "Where? St. Mungo's?"

Charlie nodded, shocked and silent again. Sirius Disapperated.

***

Ron stayed on his feet this time, and coughed. Hermione was already there, waiting for him and brushing soot off her shirt. She nodded wordlessly to him and walked into the hallway.

"What are you looking for?" a small voice squeaked. A house-elf stood right at Hermione's knee.

"Harry Potter's room."

The house-elf's expression saddened. "Fourth floor, three doors to the left," it said.

Ron nodded, and the elf turned away.

Dumbledore was talking to a mediwizard gravely outside the door. He nodded to Ron and Hermione, and they walked into the room together.

Harry lay on the bed in the middle of the room, staring at the ceiling. He glanced over at them as they walked in and tried to smile. "Hey," he whispered hoarsely.

Hermione closed her eyes. "Oh, my God," Ron breathed.

"Don't worry," Harry rasped. "I'll be all right."

Hermione trembled. "Don't try to comfort us, Harry," she told him, voice wavering. "Of course you will."

"Is Ginny here?"

Ron shook his head. "She's..."

"Coming later," Hermione finished, and Ron nodded.

Harry sighed, and closed his eyes briefly. "Have you heard from Sirius?" he asked, eyes still closed.

Ron replied quietly. "Briefly, before they found you. He was completely panicked. Professor Lupin ended up Stunning him to stop him going and doing something stupid."

A mediwizard came in and checked Harry's pulse quickly. He nodded to himself grimly, then gave a quick nod of acknowledgment to Ron and Hermione and hurried out. Harry sighed.

"Who brought you in?"

"A Muggle woman," Harry answered, squinting as if trying to remember something from years ago. "I collapsed by the side of the highway somewhere...it was freezing...and the next thing I remember was a voice telling me to hold on. Then I woke up in a Muggle hospital for a while. I don't remember that much. I think I asked them to call your dad, Ron."

"Dad and Mum'll be here any minute now then," Ron muttered.

The door burst open to admit Sirius, Lupin, and Bill. Hermione glared at them and put a finger to her lips. Sirius gasped and hurried to the side of Harry's bed. Lupin and Bill stood in front of the door as if frozen.

Harry grinned dimly up at Sirius. "Wondered when you'd come," the boy murmered hoarsely.

"Oh, God, Harry," Sirius groaned, and hugged him clumsily. Harry didn't move.

"I'm going to be fine, Sirius," he said in the same rough, quiet voice. "Don't worry."

Sirius glanced back at Lupin and Bill. Lupin moved forward next to Sirius, and Harry smiled again, hazier than before. Bill moved to behind where Ron stood still and silent and put a hand on his younger brother's shoulder. Ron looked up into Bill's face and sighed shakily like a child whose parent wakes them in the middle of a nighmare, but who is still unsure as to whether it was real.