The day passed quietly. Harry dozed on and off all day long. There was a constant shuffle of the people in and out of his room. Nurses came and went fairly often bringing him food, medicines, and checking his vital signs. They seemed to be satisfied with his progress. Later that afternoon, he overheard the nurse talking Hermione’s mum, they had changed his status from serious to fair.
There were a constant stream of witches and wizards in and out of his room. There were always three to four order members around. They came and went every few hours. Most of them, Harry didn’t know. One of Hermione’s parents was always around. Mr. and Mrs. Weasley were also around most of the day. Ron and Hermione stayed most of the day as well. Hermione apparently had gotten a couple new course books and was already reading for next year. Ron passed his time by challenging almost everyone to a game of Muggle chess, though it took him awhile to get used to moving the pieces himself.
Ron was apparently quite good. Harry knew that Ron was a good chess player, Harry had never beaten him, ever. Ron had played the giant chess set to get to the Sorcerers Stone his first year, which everyone said was a big feat.
Harry hadn’t realized how good Ron was until one of the Order members commented to about it to Mr. Weasley. “That youngest boy of yours Arthur, he has great talent at chess. What line of work do you think he’s going to pursue?”
Mr. Weasley smiled, the pride evident, “He wants to become an Auror.”
The Order member smiled back, “Good luck to him, with his tactical ability, I’d say he’d make a good one.”
After dozing for awhile, Harry opened his eyes to find Ron sitting next to him. “Hey mate,” Harry said and smiled at him.
“Hi Harry,” Ron said returning the smile. “How are you feeling?”
Harry looked him darkly, “Like I want to curse the next person who asks me that question.”
Ron smiled, “I can bring in Malfoy for you.”
“Nah, bring in Goyle, my aim is slipping, I need to practice on a bigger target.”
Ron laughed, “I have to admit, Harry, you have to be the unluckiest person I know. I mean you always were unlucky, but getting attacked in the Muggle world. That’s has to be the worst luck of anyone.”
George appeared at Ron’s shoulder, “Bad Karma, Harry.”
Fred appeared at Ron’s other shoulder, “It will come back to haunt you someday, mate.”
“Someday?” Harry asked, “I think I’m being haunted now.”
“Just as long as it’s not by Moaning Myrtle,” Ron said with a slight grin.
Harry sniggered in spite of himself.
Harry heard Mrs. Weasley coming into the room. “Harry, dear, how are you?” She sat down in a chair next to his bed.
Harry thought about it, “Not bad really. I feel stronger somehow.”
Fred grinned at him, “Dumbledore slipped you some blood restoring potion before he left.”
Mrs. Weasley looked aghast, “He did not. Did he?” She looked sharply at Fred.
“Of course not,” Fred answered, “that was me.” His mother shot him a look of pure horror, and Fred backed off, “I didn’t Mum really, it’s okay. We might have fed Harry a few canary creams last year, but we would never really hurt him, Ron on the other hand…”
Ron looked over at his brother quickly and scowled.
“Well you got made a prefect, you prat. Next thing, you’ll be made Head Boy. You can’t expect George and me to take that lying down,” Fred joked.
“That would be wonderful if Ron was made Head Boy,” their mother retorted to Fred. “He would be the third in the family.”
“It’ll be Harry anyway,” Ron said. “Dumbledore will make him Head Boy for sure.”
Harry thoughts drifted back to the prophesy. He sighed audibly. They all looked over at him. Dumbledore’s words came back ‘I think you have enough to be getting on with.’ Harry closed his eyes. “It won’t be me, mate.”
Ron looked a bit concerned with the sudden change in Harry’s demeanor, “Why not?”
Harry had an urge to tell Ron and his family the contents of the prophesy, but the urge fell quickly away. How do you tell someone that your destiny is either to kill Voldemort or die? “Trust me, it won’t be me.”
Ron was still looking concerned, so Harry added, “It wouldn’t be either of us anyway, it will probably be Ernie McMillin of Hufflepuff, or worse Malfoy. Besides it’s still a year away.” Harry finished his thought in his head, ‘and I may not even be alive in two years.”
They were interrupted by an orderly bringing in some new supplies for the room, new bedding by the looks of it. He smiled slightly at them and then left without saying a word.
“So how’s business?” Harry asked to the twins as soon as the orderly had left.
The change in topic has the effect Harry wanted. The twins had a lively discourse about their new booming business, ‘Weasley’s Wizard Wheezes’, which both Mrs. Weasley and Ron had many questions and opinions about. The discussion became almost entirely a family affair, with Harry muttering a few words here and there so that he wouldn’t have to become more involved.
Since waking that morning, Harry was in an emotionally raw state. Just about every conservation he had in the last twelve hours had involved something emotionally traumatic to him; Sirius’s death, the prophesy, the attack at Privet Drive, his fractured relationship with his Aunt and Uncle. It was getting late, and Harry was hoping that everyone would leave for the evening so he could get some rest.
Harry finally stopped pretending to be interested in Fred and George’s enterprises, and shut his eyes again. He desperately wanted to rest. He desperately wanted to stop feeling altogether, to shut off his emotions, to be somewhere peaceful and calm, to be out of pain. In the middle of his desperation, Harry fell asleep again.
Like so many times the previous school year, Harry found himself walking down a hallway. I’m dreaming he thought vaguely. It least it’s a different hallway. He was curious, there was something down at the end of the hall he needed to see. It was important.
He drifted past a nurse’s station, must be a hospital, he thought. He walked down the hall, that’s the room Harry thought, and looked into a hospital room in the middle of the corridor on the left. Harry was surprised to see himself lying in the hospital bed. Fred and George Weasley were also there playing chess with Ron. Mrs. Weasley was chatting with Mrs. Granger, and two other wizards were sitting in chairs near the window. He looked at himself and realized that he looked really awful. His hair was greasy and unwashed, he was very pale and even asleep, his body looked tense and tired.
Harry turned around to look back into the hallway, someone was there coming towards him. He saw to his horror that it was Voldemort was walking down the hallway.
Voldemort looked at Harry and said, “You can never escape me. I will find a way to kill you, boy.” Voldemort pulled out a muggle gun pointed it at Harry and shot him twice, once in the leg and once in the abdomen. The bullets hit the same spots as Harry wounds. “I can control anyone Harry Potter, even muggles. They are the easiest to control and the most disposable.” Harry turned again, he was compelled to look back into the hospital room. Instead of his room, to his great surprise, he was looking at jail cell. The Muggle gunman, Ned Rives, was hanging from the bars, dead, his belt around his neck.
Harry turned away and looked back at Voldemort, but Voldemort was gone, replaced by the orderly who had come into his room earlier. As the orderly looked at him, his eyes turned from brown to red right in front of Harry’s eyes. The orderly spoke with Voldemort’s voice, “Good bye Harry Potter. You proved to be my greatest challenge yet.” Voldemort looked over to the closet where the bedding was placed, “you’re impending doom Mr. Potter.”
Harry screamed and fought to bring himself out of the dream. But Voldemort laughed evilly, “You cannot break this connection boy. They all seem to think that you have power, but you are a weak fool, like your Mudblood mother. I would keep you as my own puppet, you would prove a useful tool. But your mere existence is irksome, and has lost me 14 years of my life. Do you know how it feels to die Harry Potter?”
Voldemort changed the dream. Harry was now in a place that was pitch black, all of a sudden there was a horrible flash of green light. The light moved toward him and hit him full in the chest. It felt like his very essence was being ripped out of him. Harry screamed. It was more painful than Crucio, more frightening than Imperio. Then it was gone.
Voldemort’s voice hissed in the darkness, “That, Harry Potter is what you put me through, every moment of every day for 14 years. I look forward to watching you die”
Still in the pitch black, Harry thought quickly. If Voldemort could force a feeling into Harry, maybe Harry could force a feeling into Voldemort, change the dream to his advantage. Harry concentrated all of his energy on thinking about Sirius going through the veil. He focused on the memory and pushed it at the Voldemort presence in his brain. All of sudden, the blackness was gone. Voldemort was back, they were in the hospital corridor again. The orderly who was standing next to Voldemort, slowly disappeared, until he was gone. Voldemort staggered back as if the memory had actually stung him.
Voldemort pushed the death feeling into Harry again. The blackness returned and Harry screamed. Voldemort released the feeling from Harry’s mind, and they were back in the hospital again. The orderly was back and his eyes turned once again from brown to red. Harry realized that he was holding a wand in his hand.
Harry thought quickly, Voldemort’s is controlling the orderly, but he lost control of him when he felt Sirius’s death. Harry thought about all of his thoughts earlier in the day, and brought them all back to the surface. His pain over Sirius, watching his best friends in pain, seeing his Uncle Vernon lying on the pavement in pain, and overwhelming though all of it was, Harry managed to push all the crushing weight of his life into those red eyes.
It was eiree, the dreamed changed over and over again, replaying some of the worst moments in Harry’s life. Harry was taking Voldemort on a one way trip through his pain. Voldemort staggered backward, the orderly disappeared again. Harry brought up more painful images, Cedric lying dead in the graveyard, the Hermione petrified in the hospital wing, Ron’s arms covered in brains, and he pushed them into Voldemort’s brain, Voldemort’s dream. Voldemort started screaming, and Harry found Voldemort’s control of his mind was gone.
Harry whipped open his eyes with a yelp and flayed around for his wand. Voldemort would have gained control of the orderly again. The orderly walked into the room and Harry yelled “Stop him!”
“What?” Fred said in surprise turning to Harry.
“The orderly,” Harry pointed furiously at him, “he’s got a wand.”
Fred and George’s years of beater experience kicked in and they were the first to attempt to stop the orderly. They grabbed him into sort of group tackle, trying to wrestle the wand out of his hands. With incredible strength, the orderly pushed them both out of the way and into walls on separate sides of the room.
The order members then stepped up and shot several spells at him, which hit, but had no effect. The orderly had put an effective shield in place. But Harry looked at the orderly’s eyes. They were dreamy. He was under the Imperious Curse. The wizards and the orderly began to duel.
“Ron,” Harry called. “Those blankets in the wardrobe that he just brought in, get rid of them!”
Ron darted across the room, dodging a few spells. He threw open the cabinet and rummaged through to find a Muggle bomb. “Harry! What the bloody hell is this?” Ron shouted over the dueling noise.
“It’s a bomb Ron. It’s going to explode!”
Ron ducked across the room again to one of the open windows. He gave an audible gasp. And Harry saw a spell fly in the window to Ron’s left, shattering the window in the blaze of glass. Ron was covered in glass, and he staggered sideways a bit. Ron recovered quickly and using the new hole he threw the bomb as hard as he could out the window. He dodged back just in time for another barrage of spells to come through the new hole in the wall.
The order guards had just finished with the orderly and were binding him up, and then the bomb went off. It shook the whole building. There was screaming and yelling from everywhere, and Harry was sure the building had shifted off its foundation.
Ron crawled over to Harry’s bed and said, “There are a group of Death Eaters outside. I pitched the bomb in the middle of them.” He looked triumphant. But it only lasted a second because another barrage of spells hit the side of the wall and broke out the rest of the room’s windows. The glass sprayed everywhere like water. Everyone was covered.
Mrs. Weasley and Dr. Granger hurried over to the bed where Harry and Ron were. “Fred, George,” she hissed, “get over here now.”
Fred crawled over and looked frantically around for George. George was unconscious against the wall, by the door. Fred cried out and started to crawl tried to get to his brother.
“No you don’t,” Mrs. Weasley hissed grabbing him. “I’ll get George. Fred, Ron, I need you to get Harry back to Grimmauld Place, and then call your brothers to you. They’ll help you defend him until the Order arrives.”
Ron looked at the half dead Harry in the bed, “How, Mum, he can’t even walk?”
“There is a fireplace in the main lobby of the hospital,” she answered quickly and pushed a sack into Fred’s hand. “It’s Floo Powder. Your Dad hooked it up, in case of an emergency. Go.”
Ron muttered something Harry couldn’t hear under his breath, and then Fred grabbed Harry’s arm and started to heave him upright. “Come on Ron,” Fred barked, “let’s go.” Ron looked startled, but grabbed Harry’s other arm. Between the two of them, the managed to hoist Harry out of bed.
The pain was horrible. Harry moaned and grunted, but he didn’t complain as he allowed them to half carry, half drag him out of the room. Fred gave one more forlorn look to George, but then his face hardened and he focused to the hallway ahead.
“Wand out Ron,” Fred barked to him, as he himself pulled out his wand and held it with his left hand. Ron pulled out his want and held it in his right. “Screw the Statute of Secrecy,” Fred continued. “If anyone gets in our way, stun them.”
The first victims to the Weasley brothers were the nurses who were running toward Harry’s room at the sound of the commotion. Ron didn’t hesitate. “Stupefy,” he called three times in quick succession taking down everyone standing in the hall in less than five seconds.
Fred looked over at him mildly impressed, “Remind me not to piss you off, little bro.”
“Just don’t ever call me a prat ever again,” Ron said with a wry smile, which Fred returned.
They dragged Harry to the elevator. The brothers then looked at each other blankly. “Hit the down arrow you morons,” Harry said through clenched teeth, Ron quickly did so. Harry put his good leg on the ground and shifted out of Fred grip. “LOOK OUT!” Harry called.
Two death eaters were running toward them, pulling their wands out. Ron, Harry and Fred all shot a series of spells toward them. The door opened behind them just as Fred was hit with Expelliarmus. Fred flew backward in the elevator, his wand flying through the air. Ron grabbed Harry and pulled them both safely inside the elevator, they hit the ground with a thud. Harry hit the number 1 button, and the door close button. Several more spells headed toward them hit the elevator door and bounded off.
“Fred!” Ron said urgently, kneeling down by his brother.
Fred sat up and looked angry, something Harry had never seen before. Fred cursed several times and then shouted, “They got my wand.”
“The Floo powder?” Ron asked
“No, it’s in my back pocket,” Fred assured him.
Ron looked relieved. But Fred continued to fume about his lost wand. Harry tossed him his wand. “Take it, Fred, I’m not going to be much help anyway.”
Fred caught it deftly and got up. He walked over to where Harry was lying on the floor and proceeded to help him sit up again. Ron came over and the Weasley brothers pulled Harry back to his feet. They all stood cautiously behind the elevator controls. Ron peaked out around and whispered, “All clear, let’s go.”
The three teens walked around the first level of the building looking for the fireplace. They were forced to stun at least fifteen muggles, and had to duck into an office while three Death Eaters passed. Exiting again, they walked back around another corner to see the elevator again.
This time it was Ron who cursed, “We’re going in circles.”
Fred joined in the cursing, “Where is that blasted fireplace? We can’t keep wandering around like this; we’re going to get caught.”
A thought dawned on Harry, “Fred, Ron, can either of you drive a real car?”
“What?” they both said in unison.
“A real car, can either you drive a real car? You know, one that doesn’t fly?”
Fred answered, “I think I can. I drove the Ford Anglia before it could fly.”
“All right, then, Fred, apparate outside and steal a car. We can drive to Mrs. Figg’s house and use her fireplace. Ron and I will meet you outside.”
“What? Are you crazy? I’m not going to just leave you two here like this, you’re sitting ducks,” Fred protested.
“Do you have a better idea?” Harry prompted.
“Yes, we stick together,” Fred said sternly. “And then steal a car and get out of here.”
The three of them slowly made their way out of a side door, which set off a nasty alarm.
“Silencio,” Ron shouted and the alarm shut off.
They were slowly making their way across the hospital garden to the parking lot beyond. There were shouts and yells not far away, but the area in front of them was totally deserted. Harry could plainly hear sirens, spells, and screams. The sounds seemed to be drawing closer to them.
Fred stopped, “All right, I’ve had it Harry. If we keep carrying you like this we’re never going to get there before we’re overrun by Death Eaters.” Fred stood Harry up on his good leg and then proceeded to pick him up in a fireman’s carry. “Go Ron,” Fred hissed under the weight. “Find a car and get it running.”
Ron shot ahead of his brother to the nearest car and magically opened it up. After a few more moments, he brought the engine to life, and then put the car and gear and drove across the grass toward Fred and Harry. Ron stopped, Fred opened the back door, unceremoniously dropped Harry in the back seat and then jumped in front with Ron.
Ron took off, speeding away from the hospital. His driving wasn’t too bad. “Where am I going, Harry?”
Harry felt woozy again. “Umm”, he slurred, he eyes started filling with stars again.
“Harry!” Ron shouted. “Where am I going? Harry!”
Fred looked behind them. “He’s bleeding again Ron, it looks bad.”
Ron hit the steering wheel with his hand and said to Fred helplessly. “I have no idea where we’re going. I don’t suppose you do?”
“I don’t even know where we are, much less where we need to go,” Fred said angrily. “Who is Mrs. Figg anyway?”
“Harry’s batty old neighbor, I think she’s a squib.”
Harry managed to speak up, “She lives on Magnolia Crescent. Go out to the main road, go south for four lights, and then turn right. Magnolia Crescent is down another ten or twelve blocks on the left. When you get there, look for the cats…”
“Look for cats?” Fred questioned indigently. “What kind of directions are those?”
“Harry,” Fred repeated, “I’m asking you, can you do better than that? It’s not like we have any clue where we are. Harry?”
Fred looked over the seat back at Harry, who hadn’t answered. Fred’s eyes widened in alarm, “Ron, he’s really bad.” Fred racked his brain, and then said, “Medicus.” The bleeding stopped, and then he followed with, “Envigorate”.
Harry went from the brink of passing out to feeling better than he had for days. Harry sat up. “Thanks. Ron look out!”
Ron swerved widely to avoid a hitting a parked car.
“Where did you learn that?” Harry asked Fred impressed. “I didn’t know that Hogwarts had any classes in magical healing.”
“Hogwarts does have some classes in magical healing, but I didn’t take them. Most of what I learned about magic healing was from practical experience. The Skiving Snack Boxes taught us more about magical healing remedies than any class ever could.”
Harry considered it, and realized Fred was right. Those snack boxes were very tricky magically, and very clever. Fred and George would have had to know a lot about magical healing to create them. “Turn left here, Ron,” Harry said.
They proceeded to Mrs. Figg’s house without incident. Ron was a fairly good driver and as Fred pointed out most of the Muggle police officers would be busy with the bomb that just went off at the hospital.
Mrs. Figg’s house was mostly dark, except one light in the back. Ron and Fred managed to get Harry out of the backseat. Harry was feeling better so they were having a much easier go at it. Harry rang the bell, and then realized how late it was. There was movement in the house and Mrs. Figg came to the door looking tired.
“Good Lord, Harry!” Mrs. Figg exclaimed. “What on earth are you doing here? Get in, get in, before anyone sees you.”
“Hello Mrs. Figg,” Harry said, “we need to use your fire. There was an attack at the hospital and we need to back to Grimmauld Place.”
“So you came here, did you?” Mrs. Figg looked exasperated. “I thought Dumbledore had the hospital put into the Floo network, in case something like this happened?”
“Er…” Harry began, “well, he did, but we couldn’t find the fireplace.”
“So you came here! Good lord boy, did it occur to you that my house can’t be connected into the Floo network because I’m a squib.”
“You aren’t connected into the Floo network?”
“No, I’m not. Squib’s aren’t allowed to use any form of magical transportation.”
Fred looked exasperated, “Do you have anyway to contact the Order?”
“No, not directly. I need help from someone else to do it.”
Ron piped up, “Will the Death Eaters to find us here? Can we hide out here until morning?”
“Yes, they will find you, and no you won’t be able to hide here,” Mrs. Figg answered sternly. “The Death Eaters always have an eye on Harry. They’ll figure out where you are within the hour.”
“So what are our options?” Ron asked.
Fred answered, “We could stay here, wait for the order, and fight the Death Eaters when they come.”
“No,” Ron answered, “that’s too risky. We only have two wands between the three of us and they’ll be at least ten of them. There is no way we could pull it off.”
“Go back to the hospital?” Fred suggested with a smirk.
“Sure Fred, let’s walk back into the swarm of Death Eaters, great idea.” Ron said sardonically.
“That’s where we are supposed to be,” Fred answered defensively, “at least there we would have help, and we wouldn’t be outnumbered.”
“It’s very risky,” Ron stated slowly, “we might not be able to find any help, before we’re overrun.”
“We could drive,” Harry suggested.
“What?” Ron and Fred asked together.
“We could drive into London. It’s not that far. We could take the car to an underground station, get on the train, and get back to Grimmauld Place that way.” Harry finished. “It would take some time, but we should be able to avoid Death Eaters. I mean the last place they would expect us to be is in Muggle London.”
Fred looked at Harry as though he were crazy, “You do realize that you can’t walk, you’re wearing a hospital gown, and we have no Muggle money.”
“What else do we have?” Harry shot back at him, “so far all you’ve come up with is to stay here and wait for the Death Eaters to find us, or walk into the center of the current Death Eater attack. I think running for it is a better option. I know that I could find Grimmauld Place once we got in the underground.”
Ms. Figg looked irate, “No, No, NO! You’re not running off to London, or going back to the hospital. You’re going back to your Aunt and Uncle’s house now.” She picked up a pillow and started to whack Ron with it. “Get back in that car and go back to Privet Drive. You’re safe there Harry. Then you,” she pointed at Fred, “can you Apparate?”
Fred nodded, miffed.
“Once you get these two settled back into to Privet Drive, find Dumbledore and tell him where Harry is located. Privet Drive is the only place that you can safely reach, none of this running off to London or running into the middle of battle nonsense. This isn’t a game, Harry! He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named will stop at nothing to kill you.” Mrs. Figg began to ushering them out the front door. “Get going, go straight home, Harry. You might have ten minutes to get there safely before they’ll figure out where you are. If they find you before you get to safety, they will kill you, Harry, and your friends. You head off to London, all three of you will be dead before you get to underground. Go, quickly!”
The teens got back into the car, properly chastised, and with lot of grumbling, headed straight for Harry’s house on Privet Drive.