Chapter 169: Chapter 169: St. Mungo’s

Chapter 169: St. Mungo’s

21^st December 1995, Hogwarts Earth 2

(Harry Potter POV)

Sirius nodded, “you can ask me anything, Harry.”

The last Potter steeled himself, took a deep breath and asked, “What was Mr. Weasley doing when he was attacked?”

Sirius shook his head, “That’s confidential Order stuff, Harry, I can’t tell you that without Dumbledore’s permission. No matter my hesitations towards him, he’s the one who assigned the mission and is in charge of the Order. So, I’m respecting his decision not to tell anyone outside the Order about it.”

Harry exclaimed, “Please tell me that he didn’t almost die because of that stupid prophecy!”

The Boy-Who-Lived was met with silence and wide eyes.

Sirius sighed, “she told you about the prophecy…”

“Of course, she did. Everyone in this goddamn Order knows more about me than I do about myself and hiding something from me, especially something this important with the only justification being that my ignorance is keeping me safe, is an immense breach of trust. Because whether you like it or not, Voldemort is gunning for me personally, so it’s either I fight or I die. How do you expect me to fight beside the Order, if you can’t trust me with something that has actually shaped my entire life without me knowing about it?”

Harry was gasping at the end of his rant; it took a lot out of him. He had been keeping this in ever since Sayre told him about the prophecy and letting everything out was more emotionally exhausting than he thought it would be.

Sirius got up and gave him a hug, “you know I was against keeping this from you. I was outvoted, especially when Dumbledore insisted that you remain in the dark and just enjoy your school year.”

“Enjoy my school year? Padfoot, I saw someone die. He didn’t die because someone wanted him dead, he just died because he was there when she shouldn’t have been. One second, he was there, and a second later, he was just gone. He was a good person and every time I go to sleep, I see his blank eyes staring into the sky, and I remember that it was my fault, that my choices are the ones that killed him. Whatever little innocence I had left, Sirius, died that day.”

The dog Animagus looked sad at that, “All I ever wanted, Harry, was for you to be happy, and I failed. I know I failed as a godfather when I chose hunting the rat over taking care of you, I know I failed as a friend when I was too afraid to be your parent’s secret keeper, terrified that one day, the Black blood would win out and I would betray them. All I want to say, is that it’s okay to fail, it’s okay to be afraid, to regret your actions, but if you keep wallowing in them, like I did, you’ll only end up doing more damage. The mistakes will keep piling up until all that’s left is a giant mess of a life filled with nothing but regret.”

They both stayed in silence for a good minute until Sirius spoke, “So, what do you actually know about the prophecy?”

The Boy-Who-Lived shrugged, “not much, only that a baby who has the power to defeat Voldemort was born in late July, with his parents having defied and survived him three times. That leaves two candidates, me and Neville. Sayre told me that there was more but didn’t tell me what it was about.”

Sirius looked hesitant for a second, “What if I told you that we could go to the Ministry, right now, sneak into the Department of Mysteries and take the prophecy. Only you and Voldemort can actually remove the orb, from what I understand. Dumbledore tried to explain the charms, but it went over my head. So, if you want to hear everything, without any secrets or anything, we can go get it. It’ll probably be hard, but we could do it.”

Harry snorted, “Why in Merlin’s name would I want to get the thing?”

“Aren’t you curious about it, at all?”

“Not really. Sayre explained prophecies a bit. She said that some are true, and others are not. Either way, if it’s a false prophecy, all this is useless. But if it’s a true prophecy, it means that it will happen either way, no matter what I know, so why should I worry about it? Either way, the prophecy doesn’t change anything at all. What matters is that Voldemort believes it and will continue to hunt me down until he thinks he’s safe from its content.”

The dog Animagus smiled at Harry, “I’m proud of you kiddo. I don’t think anyone your age would resist the temptation. I know I wouldn’t.”

Harry smiled, “so, what do you say about going downstairs, with the rest of the Order. I know Buckbeak is great and all, but you need human contact, Sirius.”

“Fine…” Sirius grumbled.

Harry grinned at his fake resignation, “Padfoot, don’t pretend like you don’t like having people here. Come on, it’s our first holiday together, let’s have a bit of fun.”

Both godfather and godson went down to the living room to join the rest of the Order.

For some reason, when they got back, the sullen atmosphere was gone; everyone was smiling, even Fred and George were decorating the Christmas tree with some weirdly animated exploding ball things. Tonks was on the couch, talking animatedly with Mooney, and even Moody had taken off his leg and was drinking something from his personal flask.

Sirius looked around and asked, “Something happen while we were upstairs?”

Mrs. Weasley ran and enveloped him in a hug, “A letter came from Saint Mungo’s. Arthur’s fine. They say it was out of the blue. It’s either the venom was designed to stop working after a while, or it was some sort of miracle. The bites are gone, there’s no trace of venom and Arthur’s awake. They’re keeping him under observation for a few days to make sure that it’s not a temporary thing, so he won’t be coming home with us for Christmas but there’s no reason we can’t visit him.”

She ran towards Harry and gave him a hug, “it’s like you’re our lucky charm, Harry. Every time you’re near something wonderful happens. Arthur said that he wants to see you, so you’ll be coming with us on Christmas day.”

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Harry was ready to object, not wanting to spend Christmas with someone who almost died because of a prophecy concerning him, but Mrs. Weasley interrupted him, “It’s not up for debate, young man, you’ll be coming with us.”

Knowing that she wouldn’t budge on this, Harry sighed and nodded.

The next few days were some of the happiest in Harry’s life. Everyone spent the mornings putting up decorations. Harry could not remember Sirius ever being in such a good mood; he was actually singing carols, apparently delighted that he was to have company over Christmas.

Suddenly, it was Christmas day, and after unwrapping his presents, and eating breakfast, they were ready to go to Saint Mungo’s.

Harry’s presents weren’t that impressive, no one having the time to go shopping. The most memorable ones were what looked like a very old and expensive book from Sayre, that only he was able to read. Apparently, it was written in parseltongue, and she asked him to read the first half of the book which they’ll cover when he comes back to school. Daphne’s present, on the other hand was a framed photo of his parents' graduation photo, having made a copy of her mother’s, who apparently was in the same year. Harry had gotten her a small locket he had found in the attic in Grimmauld place. The gem, probably a sapphire, reminded him eerily of the Slytherin’s eyes, and so, after making sure that the thing wasn’t cursed, like half the stuff in this place, he had sent it to her, hoping that she would like it.

With that done, everyone changed to go to the hospital. They went downstairs, into the car, and just waited. The ride was quite short; there was little traffic because it was Christmas day, and they arrived to Saint Mungo’s with no problems.

The reception looked somewhat festive, with some crystal glowing orbs flying around, Christmas trees everywhere, magical snow in every corner.

After a few questions from Mrs. Weasley, they went up to Mr. Weasley’s room, and found him, sitting on the bed, with what looked like a half eaten turkey leg, and some mashed potatoes and gravy. Damn, he really got a Christmas dinner from the hospital.

The man smiled at them jovially, and they enjoyed the man’s company. About an hour later, Harry found himself alone with Mr. Weasley. Wanting to avoid an awkward conversation, he started, “So, have there been any complications?”

“Not really, no. Although, they were really surprised. They said it was like someone just cast the exact counter curse to the bite and got the exact antidote for the venom. They got so many samples of my blood, trying to understand what happened, that I drank nothing but blood replenishing potions for the last couple of days. I have to say, that it was a close one; if a portrait hadn’t heard me scream, I wouldn’t be here today, with my wife and children, enjoying the holidays.”

Harry looked away guiltily, and the Weasley Patriarch chuckled, “You’re blaming yourself for what happened.”

Harry nodded, “I know what you were guarding, sir. I’m not happy that someone almost lost their life for something that concerns me, especially when I don’t care about it at all.”

The older man straightened his back and was more focused, “you really know about it?” Harry nodded, “and you’re not curious?”

Harry shrugged, “not really. Whatever it says, it doesn’t change anything. He will always come after me, just to prove that his defeat was just a fluke and I’ll have to fight back to survive. Nothing is going to change that, so why bother worrying about something that might not even be true.”

Mr. Weasley had a proud look on his face, “you’re a better man than most, Harry Potter.”

Harry blushed and walked away, followed by Ron and Hermione, “what was all that about?” Ron asked.

“Nothing, I just asked him about the attack.”

Hermione interjected, “No, there’s also something else.”

Harry answered back hotly, “I don’t have to tell you guys everything; some things are meant to be private. You’re my best friends and I trust you with my life, but there are things that shouldn’t be shared.”

The last Potter, for some reason, didn’t feel comfortable sharing the existence of the Prophecy with his friends. He already knew what their reactions would be. Ron would be angry at the fact that his father almost died protecting something that belonged to Harry and would silently blame him for what happened, and Hermione would throw herself in books and theories about divination, trying to disprove the existence of prophecies in general, just because she had dropped the class in her third year.

Harry’s reply was firm and strong, just the way Sayre had taught him, when making sure that no one would argue with him. Ron and Hermione were obviously vexed and didn’t like his answer, but they didn’t argue back. Harry looked around and found that he was in another floor entirely. He wasn’t paying attention, but he found a familiar face in front of him.

He called out to him immediately, “Neville!”

The boy jumped back and shrunk slightly “Ah, Harry, Hermione, Ron what are you doing here?”

“Ron’s dad was in an accident a few days ago, so we came to visit him for Christmas. What about you?” Hermione answered.

Harry cringed at Hermione’s answer, knowing that the boy was probably visiting his parents. He had read older versions of the daily prophet from the library, to get a better idea about the Longbottom’s fate, and was horrified to have visual confirmation about what happened to them, that this wasn’t a story. If he was honest, Harry would prefer having his parents die than having them become barely more than vegetables, walking bodies. Dumbledore was right about there being worse fates than death.

Before Neville could answer, a loud voice answered for him, “Friends of yours, Neville, dear?”

Harry stiffened and looked at what has to be one of the most intimidating women he had ever seen. No wonder Neville was bloody terrified of her. Neville gulped, probably more uncomfortable with the situation than Harry himself.

Yeah, he definitely wouldn’t want to be in Neville’s place, right now.

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