Losing Harry Chapter 11
Story: Losing Harry
Chapter: Eleven
Rating: PG
Characters: Harry, Ginny, Hermione, Ron, Draco, Albus, Scorpius, Lorcan, Lysander, James, Lily, etc.
Summary Things are just as they should be - except for siblings in opposing houses, wizards gone missing, quarrels with old professors, the Ministry's obvious favoritism, and the weight of the world resting upon two Potters' shoulders. HPDH+Epilogue compliant.
Written: 18 July 2009
Notes: It’s a future fic. Beta-ed by Kamerreon, tempered_rose, and Cymie. This chapter is especially dedicated to Zephan, Leli, Fracchan, and all the wonderful Italian readers. You all remind me of the first joys of sharing stories together, and I think often of you, when I think of Harry. (o: [ Questo capitolo è particolarmente dedicato alla Zephan, Leli, Fracchan, e tutti i lettori splendida italiana. Voi tutti mi ricordano le gioie prima di condividere storie insieme, e penso spesso di te, quando penso di Harry. (o:]
Disclaimer: This story is based on characters and situations created and owned by JK Rowling, various publishers including but not limited to Bloomsbury Books, Scholastic Books and Raincoat Books, and Warner Bros., Inc. No money is being made and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended.
Previous Chapters: 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9 | 10 |
--
Almost another week passed and Harry nearly missed it.
It was very late one night and Harry had decided to make a pass by Malfoy’s house as he carried home his books and research journals from the Shifting Library. They were all magicked into a manageable shape and size, making them easy to carry in his leather satchel as he walked along the sidewalk on the opposite side of the street from Malfoy’s house.
It was then, as he glanced over, that he saw a dark figure entering the house. There was no knock, no greeting on the porch. The person simply walked in.
Harry knew it wasn’t the nurse, for he could see the silhouettes of both Malfoy and the nurse through the window. But he couldn’t give any ready explanation for this mysterious third person.
Moving quickly, he whisked out his Invisibility Cloak and shuffled over into a hiding spot next to a nearby front garden, squatting among the bushes where he could stage a stake out.
The third figure standing in the sitting room was unrecognisable. The person was draped in heavy robes - no doubt a wizard (or witch, Harry could hear Hermione’s voice echoing in his ear). Through the light of the window, Harry watched the nurse and Malfoy stand and greet the newcomer, and the three of them exchanged handshakes. Harry frowned.
If Malfoy was living as a Muggle now, and the nurse was simply an ordinary Muggle nurse (for Harry had tracked him to work several times to ensure that he indeed was employed by the local hospital), then what were they doing consorting with a wizard?
Just as he thought it, the third figure turned toward the window, as if looking for something outside. Harry twitched but needn’t have; he was still hidden under the cover of his Cloak.
The robed figure seemed to find nothing unusual outside, and went on talking with animated gestures to the nurse and Malfoy. At one point, the nurse responded with gestures of his own, one to his chest and one hand raised up in innocence. Try though he might, Harry couldn’t make out their meaning.
Pulling out the set of Extendable Ears that Harry kept on his person while on missions, he crept closer through the darkness, across the street and into the garden. If he could just find a crack or gap near the window or door, he might be able to overhear the conversation.
But before he had a chance, he watched through the window as the robed figure smacked Malfoy hard across the face. Harry nearly gasped from shock. He watched wide-eyed as Malfoy’s eyes sharpened so that he appeared much more like the Malfoy Harry had always known. He made a sudden move toward the robed figure in retaliation, but the intruder merely flicked his wand in Malfoy’s direction, and the blond fell to the floor, crutches clattering loudly in his wake.
The nurse’s mouth fell open in shock and Harry had the Extendable Ears out so that even through the glass of the window they caught his words.
“You didn’t have to do that!” the nurse yelled, anger and hurt in his voice. Then he fell to his knees beside Malfoy, trying to wake him from whatever spell the wizard (or witch) had cast. He lifted Malfoy up, brushing his hand along Malfoy’s face in an attempt to call him back.
“Make sure that I have no reason to come back here again,” the robed figure spoke in a cold and measured voice as the Extendable Ears relayed the message to Harry. He knew it was a wizard now, but the voice wasn’t one he recognised.
“It wasn’t my fault! I didn’t know!” the nurse responded desperately.
“How could you not?” the wizard shot back in a disbelieving voice.
“How could I have known?!” the nurse wailed, still petting Draco’s face and shaking his arm and shoulders as he lay there, motionless.
“Now you do. Don’t let it happen again.” The voice was sharp and demanding. Then suddenly, he turned for the door, even as the nurse was shouting to beckon him back, begging him to reverse whatever he had done to Malfoy. The wizard continued without so much as a stutter-step hesitation, and Harry held his breath as he walked rapidly past, where Harry was huddled silently under the window. The wizard’s robes swished with sharp and dignified movements until he had reached the end of the garden. He turned and continued down the street, reaching the corner, looking both ways as if to cross, and then with a small crack!, simply Disapparated.
Harry breathed again, rolled up his Extendable Ears and quickly threw the Cloak off, tucking both items into the bag of books he had slung on his shoulder. Without a second thought, he bolted up the steps of the porch and tore the front door open.
The nurse inside jumped at the sound, but Malfoy still made no move.
“You!” the nurse yelled. “What are you doing here? Get out! GET OUT!” he screamed.
“I can help!” Harry insisted. He ignored the nurse’s protests and fell to the floor on the opposite side of Malfoy’s prone figure, cautiously moving one of the crutches out of the way.
“You have to leave!” the nurse cried, catching Harry off guard with the actual tears glistening in his eyes.
“I can help. I’m a wizard!” Harry insisted. “But you have to tell me what spell was done.” He looked into the nurse’s eyes. They were shiny and full of fear and anxiety. “What did he say when he used his wand?”
“I…I don’t know!” The nurse shook his head, his hands still clutching Malfoy tightly, his knuckles white with effort.
Harry racked his brain again as he eased the strap of his satchel off his shoulder, letting it rest on the floor by his feet. His simple diagnostic spell had had the same effect on Malfoy. He couldn’t just start throwing spells at Malfoy and hope that one of them did the trick. Instead he stood abruptly and went for the same medicines he had retrieved the last time, all the while Landon yelling after him. He seemed confused as Harry thrust the cough medicines under Malfoy’s nose.
Only this time, nothing happened.
Harry swore and the nurse urged him to do something else, to fix Malfoy.
Then Harry remembered the books in his bag.
“Just a minute,” Harry said, and he stood again, plucking his bag up from the floor and moving into their kitchen, toward the counter where he began yanking out all the books stored in his charmed satchel. He tossed aside four volumes before he found the one he needed: Magical Book of Magicking Away Maladies from Muggles. Harry wondered what made the book so magical itself, but ignored the thought as he flipped through page after page. He could have sworn he had read something in there earlier at the Shifting Library. If it had been Hermione, she would have had it memorised already.
“Come on, come on!” Harry said aloud, flipping through chapter after chapter. Memory Charms. Bone repair. Muggle-friendly Potions.
“Show me!” Harry demanded.
And then, the book did. Several pages turned of their own accord, and there on the open page was the header: “Treating Magical Maladies and Injuries for the Muggle with Allergic-Like Reactions to Magic”.
Harry blinked. Perhaps that was why the book itself was magical.
“You’ve got to me kidding me,” Harry breathed as he scanned the paragraphs under the heading. A whole section was devoted to allergic-like reactions to magic. He’d never even heard of such a thing.
It is rare to find such people in the world, but the cases occur frequently enough (five or ten per average generation) that wizards have been in need of remedies and cures for just such situations. These potions and concoctions may be of use, both to the reactant Muggle, or the affected wizard. It is most rare that a wizard finds himself in this situation, but it is not unheard of. Two centuries previous, Minister Octavius Rumbactius outlawed the use and development of any spells, potions, hexes, et cetera, that might remove, hide, or diminish a wizard’s magical abilities or capacities. It was decided to be inhumane, and illegal.
Harry scanned the potions below the introductory paragraphs, finding at last a set of directions for making a “Spell-Lifting Smelling Salt, made with ingredients from the average Muggle home.”
Harry frowned. It seemed like the book had thought of everything.
“Landon, I need you to find these things for me,” Harry said as he turned and took the five steps necessary to bring him from the small kitchen into the miniscule sitting room. Landon still remained in the same position as when Harry had left him, on the floor with Malfoy, just in front of the coffee table. He was reluctant to leave his charge, but Harry managed to convince him that if they worked together, they’d have Malfoy awake in no time.
“What is this?” Landon asked as he watched Harry mixing different measurements of random assorted ingredients gathered from around the house and then pouring them all into a kitchen mixing bowl.
“It’s supposed to wake him up,” Harry said, measuring out four teaspoons of vinegar.
He picked up a saltshaker and turned to Landon. “I don’t think this is the right kind of salt.”
“It’s all I have,” the nurse replied in a small, pitiable voice.
Harry glanced at the other items stretched along the counter: Muggle cleaning products, bath items, soaps, red and white wine, other alcohols, and even what looked like a small stash of medical supplies from a hospital closet.
Doing the best with what they had, Harry followed the recipe as closely as possible while Landon glanced between him and Malfoy, still lying on the floor. After mixing everything together into a sludgy compound, all that was left was for Harry to imbue the mixture with spells that would then take affect on whoever inhaled fumes from the substance.
“Stand back,” Harry instructed Landon, who obeyed and watched with wide eyes as Harry cast spells at the sludge, watching as it glowed slightly with each one, changing colours as it was bulked up with magic.
“All right, let’s hope this works,” Harry said, taking the whole bowl into the sitting room as Landon followed behind, standing anxiously out of the way, as if he doubted the outcome and feared an explosion.
Harry knelt carefully alongside Malfoy, whose head was cushioned by one of the throw pillows from the sofa. Balancing the bowl in one hand, he used the other to drag Malfoy up into more of a sitting position against Harry’s knees, then slowly and easily moved the magical mixture under Malfoy’s nose.
For a few seconds nothing happened. Then before his very eyes, Harry watched as Malfoy’s face flushed, and he felt against him Malfoy’s body warming up with a fever. And then in a half-minute it had all faded again, and Malfoy was blinking up at Harry, his grey eyes looking drugged and lethargic.
“James?” Malfoy said slowly. Before he could even nod, Malfoy had leant up and hugged Harry, hard and unrelenting. “God, that was terrible.”
“What was?” Harry asked around the unexpected armful of Malfoy that he held. One hand was still cautiously trying not to spill the bowl of magical mixture. With his other, he tried to balance himself against the weight of the man against him. It wasn’t unlike having a sudden armful of one of his children, he supposed. For a moment a pang of guilt swept through his gut, as he recalled the way his little Lily loved to jump into his arms, her full weight flying at him without a doubt in the world as to whether her Daddy would catch her. The boys had done that when they were younger, too.
No, oddly, it was a Malfoy in his arms.
“It was a dream. I think it was a dream. I saw these terrible things, but they can’t be real. I was asleep, right?” Malfoy asked, leaning back enough to look into Harry’s eyes.
“Er…”
“You were unconscious,” Landon cut in from behind and overhead. Harry glanced up to see him anxiously twisting his fingers, looking uncomfortable with what he was watching.
“What did you see?” Harry asked.
“Red and green flashes of light,” Malfoy answered immediately. “And these hideous masks. And this man with a terrible, high-pitched voice. And a great snake. It was all a horrible dream.”
Harry’s mind raced and he knew Malfoy was watching him. Malfoy was clever, even as Matthew Greyson.
“Of course it was all a nightmare,” Landon replied in Harry’s stead, finally dropping to his knees beside Malfoy and pulling him away from Harry. They hugged and Harry looked away, shifting uncomfortably. It was no ordinary dream. Malfoy had seen real images, but they must have come to him from the past, from his memories. Voldemort was gone and Harry didn’t doubt that for a second. He had been there. He had done it, finished it himself. But Malfoy was seeing things from his magical past. Maybe from those months he spent among the Death Eaters, maybe even with Voldemort himself.
Without realising that he had moved, Harry found himself in the kitchen, scooping the magical mixture into a container that would keep it free from the air and other contamination. He slid it into his bag, which lay on the countertop still, and stuffed the books from the Shifting Library inside as well. He started to clean up the mess he and Landon had created earlier, still turning over the images in his head that Malfoy had dreamed.
Minutes went by as Harry returned the items to the shelves and rooms he guessed they belonged to while murmurings from the sitting room echoed in the background, like white noise on a wireless station. He heard the front door open and shut, and then Malfoy stood in the doorway of the kitchen, crutches planted firmly and an expectant look on his face.
“You saved my life,” Malfoy said.
Harry turned to look at him, his eyes slowing to narrow for a half second on the metal equipment bracing Malfoy’s weight. “You just fainted.” Harry shrugged.
“How did you know what to do when my own nurse didn’t?” Malfoy asked, shifting so that more of his weight rested on his left leg and crutch.
Harry wasn’t sure how to answer.
“It wasn’t just a dream, was it?” Malfoy pressed on, taking a step closer.
“Where’s Landon?” Harry asked, trying to peer around Malfoy.
“I told him that a bowl of fresh clam chowder would have me feeling top-notch in no time.”
“Oh.”
“So how did you do it?” Malfoy asked, gaze unyielding as his eyes bored into Harry’s.
“Same as last time. Waved something with a strong smell under your nose, and you woke up. Simple Mug- er… Simple medical basics,” Harry answered, barely catching his slip, and edging backward against the counter.
Malfoy’s eyes narrowed. “If it’s simple medical basics, there’s no reason why Landon wouldn’t have been able to do it on his own.”
“He was in shock. It happens sometimes when a loved one is in grave danger. The body shuts down and panics,” Harry responded.
“Sometimes,” Malfoy conceded, pushing his right crutch forward and leaning with it. “Other times, the loved one gets a great burst of adrenaline and does the impossible in order to save the person he loves.”
Harry blinked while Malfoy stared at him. The room felt suddenly charged and Harry swallowed back an unexpected gust of anxiety. Malfoy took a step closer, one crutch coming close to meeting the toe of Harry’s shoe, and Harry resisted the childish urge to step back.
“Thank you,” Malfoy said softly. His grey eyes shone bright his gratefulness.
“N-no problem,” Harry said with a shrug. Malfoy took another step closer, purposefully trying to catch Harry’s eyes.
“What’re you really doing here?” Malfoy asked earnestly, his gaze searching Harry’s.
Harry frowned, looked away, and then answered as nonchalantly as he could: “I told you, I’m just a friendly neighbour.”
Malfoy continued to hold his gaze on Harry who shifted under the scrutiny. Then the front door banged open, Harry jumped and Malfoy hobbled backward three steps as quick as he could.
“I’ve got your chowder, Mattie,” Landon said as he rounded the corner toward the kitchen.
“I was just leaving,” Harry said, barely meeting the nurse’s eyes. “Have a good evening.”
He knew Malfoy was staring at him, but Harry also caught Landon’s guarded narrow gaze.
“You won’t stay for tea?” Malfoy called out, halting Harry at the door. When he turned back, he noticed Landon’s fallen expression and Malfoy’s hopeful one.
“I’m sorry, I can’t. I’ve got things to do. Good evening,” he bid them, and left before he could be stopped again. It was true; he did have things to do.
“Treating Magical Maladies and Injuries for the Muggle with Allergic-Like Reactions to Magic.”
This was the very thing Harry had been looking for - proof that Malfoy’s malady wasn’t a fluke or an accident. It existed in writing - some kind of aversion or allergy toward magic. Now Harry had to find out where it came from, how it was caused, and what to do to reverse it. It made sense now; Malfoy’s injuries were multi-layered, rather than being one sole malady that included all of the symptoms.
Someone had gone to great effort to put Malfoy where he was and keep him there.
And he had to wonder if that same someone was the mysterious wizard who had dropped in for a visit earlier in the evening.
If so, Harry needed to discover who it was and what their motivation was for doing this to Malfoy, and of course, get them locked up Azkaban for their misdeeds.
Then they could all go back to their normal lives.
Next: Chapter 12
Chapter: Eleven
Rating: PG
Characters: Harry, Ginny, Hermione, Ron, Draco, Albus, Scorpius, Lorcan, Lysander, James, Lily, etc.
Summary Things are just as they should be - except for siblings in opposing houses, wizards gone missing, quarrels with old professors, the Ministry's obvious favoritism, and the weight of the world resting upon two Potters' shoulders. HPDH+Epilogue compliant.
Written: 18 July 2009
Notes: It’s a future fic. Beta-ed by Kamerreon, tempered_rose, and Cymie. This chapter is especially dedicated to Zephan, Leli, Fracchan, and all the wonderful Italian readers. You all remind me of the first joys of sharing stories together, and I think often of you, when I think of Harry. (o: [ Questo capitolo è particolarmente dedicato alla Zephan, Leli, Fracchan, e tutti i lettori splendida italiana. Voi tutti mi ricordano le gioie prima di condividere storie insieme, e penso spesso di te, quando penso di Harry. (o:]
Disclaimer: This story is based on characters and situations created and owned by JK Rowling, various publishers including but not limited to Bloomsbury Books, Scholastic Books and Raincoat Books, and Warner Bros., Inc. No money is being made and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended.
Previous Chapters: 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9 | 10 |
--
Almost another week passed and Harry nearly missed it.
It was very late one night and Harry had decided to make a pass by Malfoy’s house as he carried home his books and research journals from the Shifting Library. They were all magicked into a manageable shape and size, making them easy to carry in his leather satchel as he walked along the sidewalk on the opposite side of the street from Malfoy’s house.
It was then, as he glanced over, that he saw a dark figure entering the house. There was no knock, no greeting on the porch. The person simply walked in.
Harry knew it wasn’t the nurse, for he could see the silhouettes of both Malfoy and the nurse through the window. But he couldn’t give any ready explanation for this mysterious third person.
Moving quickly, he whisked out his Invisibility Cloak and shuffled over into a hiding spot next to a nearby front garden, squatting among the bushes where he could stage a stake out.
The third figure standing in the sitting room was unrecognisable. The person was draped in heavy robes - no doubt a wizard (or witch, Harry could hear Hermione’s voice echoing in his ear). Through the light of the window, Harry watched the nurse and Malfoy stand and greet the newcomer, and the three of them exchanged handshakes. Harry frowned.
If Malfoy was living as a Muggle now, and the nurse was simply an ordinary Muggle nurse (for Harry had tracked him to work several times to ensure that he indeed was employed by the local hospital), then what were they doing consorting with a wizard?
Just as he thought it, the third figure turned toward the window, as if looking for something outside. Harry twitched but needn’t have; he was still hidden under the cover of his Cloak.
The robed figure seemed to find nothing unusual outside, and went on talking with animated gestures to the nurse and Malfoy. At one point, the nurse responded with gestures of his own, one to his chest and one hand raised up in innocence. Try though he might, Harry couldn’t make out their meaning.
Pulling out the set of Extendable Ears that Harry kept on his person while on missions, he crept closer through the darkness, across the street and into the garden. If he could just find a crack or gap near the window or door, he might be able to overhear the conversation.
But before he had a chance, he watched through the window as the robed figure smacked Malfoy hard across the face. Harry nearly gasped from shock. He watched wide-eyed as Malfoy’s eyes sharpened so that he appeared much more like the Malfoy Harry had always known. He made a sudden move toward the robed figure in retaliation, but the intruder merely flicked his wand in Malfoy’s direction, and the blond fell to the floor, crutches clattering loudly in his wake.
The nurse’s mouth fell open in shock and Harry had the Extendable Ears out so that even through the glass of the window they caught his words.
“You didn’t have to do that!” the nurse yelled, anger and hurt in his voice. Then he fell to his knees beside Malfoy, trying to wake him from whatever spell the wizard (or witch) had cast. He lifted Malfoy up, brushing his hand along Malfoy’s face in an attempt to call him back.
“Make sure that I have no reason to come back here again,” the robed figure spoke in a cold and measured voice as the Extendable Ears relayed the message to Harry. He knew it was a wizard now, but the voice wasn’t one he recognised.
“It wasn’t my fault! I didn’t know!” the nurse responded desperately.
“How could you not?” the wizard shot back in a disbelieving voice.
“How could I have known?!” the nurse wailed, still petting Draco’s face and shaking his arm and shoulders as he lay there, motionless.
“Now you do. Don’t let it happen again.” The voice was sharp and demanding. Then suddenly, he turned for the door, even as the nurse was shouting to beckon him back, begging him to reverse whatever he had done to Malfoy. The wizard continued without so much as a stutter-step hesitation, and Harry held his breath as he walked rapidly past, where Harry was huddled silently under the window. The wizard’s robes swished with sharp and dignified movements until he had reached the end of the garden. He turned and continued down the street, reaching the corner, looking both ways as if to cross, and then with a small crack!, simply Disapparated.
Harry breathed again, rolled up his Extendable Ears and quickly threw the Cloak off, tucking both items into the bag of books he had slung on his shoulder. Without a second thought, he bolted up the steps of the porch and tore the front door open.
The nurse inside jumped at the sound, but Malfoy still made no move.
“You!” the nurse yelled. “What are you doing here? Get out! GET OUT!” he screamed.
“I can help!” Harry insisted. He ignored the nurse’s protests and fell to the floor on the opposite side of Malfoy’s prone figure, cautiously moving one of the crutches out of the way.
“You have to leave!” the nurse cried, catching Harry off guard with the actual tears glistening in his eyes.
“I can help. I’m a wizard!” Harry insisted. “But you have to tell me what spell was done.” He looked into the nurse’s eyes. They were shiny and full of fear and anxiety. “What did he say when he used his wand?”
“I…I don’t know!” The nurse shook his head, his hands still clutching Malfoy tightly, his knuckles white with effort.
Harry racked his brain again as he eased the strap of his satchel off his shoulder, letting it rest on the floor by his feet. His simple diagnostic spell had had the same effect on Malfoy. He couldn’t just start throwing spells at Malfoy and hope that one of them did the trick. Instead he stood abruptly and went for the same medicines he had retrieved the last time, all the while Landon yelling after him. He seemed confused as Harry thrust the cough medicines under Malfoy’s nose.
Only this time, nothing happened.
Harry swore and the nurse urged him to do something else, to fix Malfoy.
Then Harry remembered the books in his bag.
“Just a minute,” Harry said, and he stood again, plucking his bag up from the floor and moving into their kitchen, toward the counter where he began yanking out all the books stored in his charmed satchel. He tossed aside four volumes before he found the one he needed: Magical Book of Magicking Away Maladies from Muggles. Harry wondered what made the book so magical itself, but ignored the thought as he flipped through page after page. He could have sworn he had read something in there earlier at the Shifting Library. If it had been Hermione, she would have had it memorised already.
“Come on, come on!” Harry said aloud, flipping through chapter after chapter. Memory Charms. Bone repair. Muggle-friendly Potions.
“Show me!” Harry demanded.
And then, the book did. Several pages turned of their own accord, and there on the open page was the header: “Treating Magical Maladies and Injuries for the Muggle with Allergic-Like Reactions to Magic”.
Harry blinked. Perhaps that was why the book itself was magical.
“You’ve got to me kidding me,” Harry breathed as he scanned the paragraphs under the heading. A whole section was devoted to allergic-like reactions to magic. He’d never even heard of such a thing.
It is rare to find such people in the world, but the cases occur frequently enough (five or ten per average generation) that wizards have been in need of remedies and cures for just such situations. These potions and concoctions may be of use, both to the reactant Muggle, or the affected wizard. It is most rare that a wizard finds himself in this situation, but it is not unheard of. Two centuries previous, Minister Octavius Rumbactius outlawed the use and development of any spells, potions, hexes, et cetera, that might remove, hide, or diminish a wizard’s magical abilities or capacities. It was decided to be inhumane, and illegal.
Harry scanned the potions below the introductory paragraphs, finding at last a set of directions for making a “Spell-Lifting Smelling Salt, made with ingredients from the average Muggle home.”
Harry frowned. It seemed like the book had thought of everything.
“Landon, I need you to find these things for me,” Harry said as he turned and took the five steps necessary to bring him from the small kitchen into the miniscule sitting room. Landon still remained in the same position as when Harry had left him, on the floor with Malfoy, just in front of the coffee table. He was reluctant to leave his charge, but Harry managed to convince him that if they worked together, they’d have Malfoy awake in no time.
“What is this?” Landon asked as he watched Harry mixing different measurements of random assorted ingredients gathered from around the house and then pouring them all into a kitchen mixing bowl.
“It’s supposed to wake him up,” Harry said, measuring out four teaspoons of vinegar.
He picked up a saltshaker and turned to Landon. “I don’t think this is the right kind of salt.”
“It’s all I have,” the nurse replied in a small, pitiable voice.
Harry glanced at the other items stretched along the counter: Muggle cleaning products, bath items, soaps, red and white wine, other alcohols, and even what looked like a small stash of medical supplies from a hospital closet.
Doing the best with what they had, Harry followed the recipe as closely as possible while Landon glanced between him and Malfoy, still lying on the floor. After mixing everything together into a sludgy compound, all that was left was for Harry to imbue the mixture with spells that would then take affect on whoever inhaled fumes from the substance.
“Stand back,” Harry instructed Landon, who obeyed and watched with wide eyes as Harry cast spells at the sludge, watching as it glowed slightly with each one, changing colours as it was bulked up with magic.
“All right, let’s hope this works,” Harry said, taking the whole bowl into the sitting room as Landon followed behind, standing anxiously out of the way, as if he doubted the outcome and feared an explosion.
Harry knelt carefully alongside Malfoy, whose head was cushioned by one of the throw pillows from the sofa. Balancing the bowl in one hand, he used the other to drag Malfoy up into more of a sitting position against Harry’s knees, then slowly and easily moved the magical mixture under Malfoy’s nose.
For a few seconds nothing happened. Then before his very eyes, Harry watched as Malfoy’s face flushed, and he felt against him Malfoy’s body warming up with a fever. And then in a half-minute it had all faded again, and Malfoy was blinking up at Harry, his grey eyes looking drugged and lethargic.
“James?” Malfoy said slowly. Before he could even nod, Malfoy had leant up and hugged Harry, hard and unrelenting. “God, that was terrible.”
“What was?” Harry asked around the unexpected armful of Malfoy that he held. One hand was still cautiously trying not to spill the bowl of magical mixture. With his other, he tried to balance himself against the weight of the man against him. It wasn’t unlike having a sudden armful of one of his children, he supposed. For a moment a pang of guilt swept through his gut, as he recalled the way his little Lily loved to jump into his arms, her full weight flying at him without a doubt in the world as to whether her Daddy would catch her. The boys had done that when they were younger, too.
No, oddly, it was a Malfoy in his arms.
“It was a dream. I think it was a dream. I saw these terrible things, but they can’t be real. I was asleep, right?” Malfoy asked, leaning back enough to look into Harry’s eyes.
“Er…”
“You were unconscious,” Landon cut in from behind and overhead. Harry glanced up to see him anxiously twisting his fingers, looking uncomfortable with what he was watching.
“What did you see?” Harry asked.
“Red and green flashes of light,” Malfoy answered immediately. “And these hideous masks. And this man with a terrible, high-pitched voice. And a great snake. It was all a horrible dream.”
Harry’s mind raced and he knew Malfoy was watching him. Malfoy was clever, even as Matthew Greyson.
“Of course it was all a nightmare,” Landon replied in Harry’s stead, finally dropping to his knees beside Malfoy and pulling him away from Harry. They hugged and Harry looked away, shifting uncomfortably. It was no ordinary dream. Malfoy had seen real images, but they must have come to him from the past, from his memories. Voldemort was gone and Harry didn’t doubt that for a second. He had been there. He had done it, finished it himself. But Malfoy was seeing things from his magical past. Maybe from those months he spent among the Death Eaters, maybe even with Voldemort himself.
Without realising that he had moved, Harry found himself in the kitchen, scooping the magical mixture into a container that would keep it free from the air and other contamination. He slid it into his bag, which lay on the countertop still, and stuffed the books from the Shifting Library inside as well. He started to clean up the mess he and Landon had created earlier, still turning over the images in his head that Malfoy had dreamed.
Minutes went by as Harry returned the items to the shelves and rooms he guessed they belonged to while murmurings from the sitting room echoed in the background, like white noise on a wireless station. He heard the front door open and shut, and then Malfoy stood in the doorway of the kitchen, crutches planted firmly and an expectant look on his face.
“You saved my life,” Malfoy said.
Harry turned to look at him, his eyes slowing to narrow for a half second on the metal equipment bracing Malfoy’s weight. “You just fainted.” Harry shrugged.
“How did you know what to do when my own nurse didn’t?” Malfoy asked, shifting so that more of his weight rested on his left leg and crutch.
Harry wasn’t sure how to answer.
“It wasn’t just a dream, was it?” Malfoy pressed on, taking a step closer.
“Where’s Landon?” Harry asked, trying to peer around Malfoy.
“I told him that a bowl of fresh clam chowder would have me feeling top-notch in no time.”
“Oh.”
“So how did you do it?” Malfoy asked, gaze unyielding as his eyes bored into Harry’s.
“Same as last time. Waved something with a strong smell under your nose, and you woke up. Simple Mug- er… Simple medical basics,” Harry answered, barely catching his slip, and edging backward against the counter.
Malfoy’s eyes narrowed. “If it’s simple medical basics, there’s no reason why Landon wouldn’t have been able to do it on his own.”
“He was in shock. It happens sometimes when a loved one is in grave danger. The body shuts down and panics,” Harry responded.
“Sometimes,” Malfoy conceded, pushing his right crutch forward and leaning with it. “Other times, the loved one gets a great burst of adrenaline and does the impossible in order to save the person he loves.”
Harry blinked while Malfoy stared at him. The room felt suddenly charged and Harry swallowed back an unexpected gust of anxiety. Malfoy took a step closer, one crutch coming close to meeting the toe of Harry’s shoe, and Harry resisted the childish urge to step back.
“Thank you,” Malfoy said softly. His grey eyes shone bright his gratefulness.
“N-no problem,” Harry said with a shrug. Malfoy took another step closer, purposefully trying to catch Harry’s eyes.
“What’re you really doing here?” Malfoy asked earnestly, his gaze searching Harry’s.
Harry frowned, looked away, and then answered as nonchalantly as he could: “I told you, I’m just a friendly neighbour.”
Malfoy continued to hold his gaze on Harry who shifted under the scrutiny. Then the front door banged open, Harry jumped and Malfoy hobbled backward three steps as quick as he could.
“I’ve got your chowder, Mattie,” Landon said as he rounded the corner toward the kitchen.
“I was just leaving,” Harry said, barely meeting the nurse’s eyes. “Have a good evening.”
He knew Malfoy was staring at him, but Harry also caught Landon’s guarded narrow gaze.
“You won’t stay for tea?” Malfoy called out, halting Harry at the door. When he turned back, he noticed Landon’s fallen expression and Malfoy’s hopeful one.
“I’m sorry, I can’t. I’ve got things to do. Good evening,” he bid them, and left before he could be stopped again. It was true; he did have things to do.
“Treating Magical Maladies and Injuries for the Muggle with Allergic-Like Reactions to Magic.”
This was the very thing Harry had been looking for - proof that Malfoy’s malady wasn’t a fluke or an accident. It existed in writing - some kind of aversion or allergy toward magic. Now Harry had to find out where it came from, how it was caused, and what to do to reverse it. It made sense now; Malfoy’s injuries were multi-layered, rather than being one sole malady that included all of the symptoms.
Someone had gone to great effort to put Malfoy where he was and keep him there.
And he had to wonder if that same someone was the mysterious wizard who had dropped in for a visit earlier in the evening.
If so, Harry needed to discover who it was and what their motivation was for doing this to Malfoy, and of course, get them locked up Azkaban for their misdeeds.
Then they could all go back to their normal lives.
Next: Chapter 12