A Promise Kept - Chapter 22 - St Mungo’s

St Mungo’s

“HARRY!”

She scrambled towards her fallen son, her cheeks already wet with tears, and her hands quickly soaked in blood as she cradled his head. Miraculously, he was awake, though his eyes were glazed over, yet, he smiled as they met hers before he fell still.

“Sirius, get help!” Lily pleaded.

She did her utmost to stem the flow, but Harry was bleeding from two separate wounds; one just below his collarbone, and another on the opposite ribs where he’d turned into the curse.

Frantically, she tried to seal the wound, only for her efforts to be undone.

“It is a curse wound. You cannot close it, but I might be able to.”

Lily looked up to be met by the concerned gaze of Apolline Delacour, who did not seem certain, but if something was not done quickly, Harry would die.

Not knowing what else to do, she nodded, and the Veela looked towards her husband.

“Oui,” Sebastien murmured, before his gaze shifted back towards the treeline Sirius had vanished into only a moment prior.

Releasing a deep breath, Apolline began removing chunks of her own hair and packing Harry’s wounds with it. Still, it bled, but it seemed to stem the flow considerably.

“This will hurt him a lot,” the Veela said apologetically, closing her eyes and conjuring a blueish ball of fire in her right hand.

The sound of her son’s skin sizzling, and the smell of burnt flesh was something that would always haunt her, but it was his sudden scream of agony that was torn from him she would remember most.

The bleeding, however, stopped, yet Harry remained motionless, his skin deathly pale, and he was barely breathing.

“Please, Harry,” Lily whispered. “Wake up.”

“Over there, quick!”

It had happened all so suddenly.

The still-burning clearing had been inundated with Aurors, Healers, and all manner of Ministry officials in a matter of seconds, but Sirius had allowed none of the latter to get close to her or Harry, who was quickly transported to St Mungo’s.

Lily had followed with Sirius and the Delacours, where she had remained at her son’s side for a little more than a week now.

From time to time, he would open his eyes, but the curse he had been hit with had not been easy to reverse, and he was still suffering from the effects of it.

Fortunately, the Healers believed he would make a full recovery, but Lily had not believed them until Tullius himself had visited to examine the boy he had been watching over for most of his life.

Flashback

He shook his head as he placed his wand back up his sleeve before adding a few notes to the extensive file he kept on Harry and his progress over the years.

“I cannot identify what the curse was he was hit with because the Veela fire burned it away before it could spread too far. Once again, Lily, your son proves to be lucky.”

“So, there won’t be any effects from the curse?”

“I do not believe so, and there is minimal lingering magic from Mrs Delacour. Harry’s own has already purged most of it from his system, so, if all is well when he wakes, he will only have the scars to serve as a reminder of just how fortunate he is. I am sure you will also be pleased to know that there is no magic connecting him to Mrs Delacour. Harry’s actions in saving you nullified what could’ve become a life debt between them.”

Lily breathed a sigh of relief.

She did not believe the Delacours would look to seek an advantage from such an outcome, but it was certainly welcome news.

“And everything else?”

Tullius released a deep breath.

“As it was, no better but no worse. I am no expert on such things, but I would say the lingering magic from that night is as much his own as what he was born with. It is not having a detrimental effect on him, so, I do not believe there is anything to be concerned about. As his own magic continues to mature, perhaps he will rid himself of it. Only time will tell.”

End Flashback

Lily ran her finger down the length of the large scar that stretch down Harry’s ribcage; an intricate feather that remained pink and puckered with another similar just below his collar bone.

It reminded her of scars she had seen on those struck by lightning; oddly beautiful, but a reminder of just how close to dying they had been.

“Still not awake?”

Lily shook her head as Sirius took the seat on the opposite side of the bed.

They had spoken little this past week whilst Sirius had been working on mitigating the fallout of what had happened during the aftermath of the World Cup, and try as he might, Cornelius Fudge had been unable to silence the media on the matter.

Albert Gibbon had been found dead in the main camp, courtesy of a curse that Sirius had not owned up to, and three other unidentifiable husks had been discovered in the burnt remains of the trees surrounding their own campsite.

That had been Harry’s work, and though Lily was angry with her son for defying her, she did not doubt that he had likely saved their lives.

“No, but he is looking better, isn’t he?”

“He is,” Sirius assured her with a comforting smile. “Are they Bertie Bott’s? I’ve not had them for years.”

He winced as Lily slapped his hand away from the confection.

Since they’d arrived at St Mungo’s, gift upon gift had followed, with messages wishing Harry well.

Already, Sirius had emptied the room twice, but fortunately, they seemed to finally be slowing down now.

“Those are Harry’s,” she huffed.

“Well, when he does wake up, he might need them for his extended stay,” Sirius snorted. “I know you, Lily. You are furious.”

“I am,” she admitted, “but I was scared more than anything else. He almost died, Sirius, and he didn’t even seem to care. He smiled at me.”

“Because he knew you were safe. You are everything to that boy, and just as you would give your life for him, he would do the same for you.”

“But I don’t want that!”

“I know, but you do not have much of a choice. Harry sees it as his responsibility to keep you safe, just as James did for the two of you.”

Lily nodded, but it did not make such a realisation rest any easier with her. It was her job to protect Harry from the evils of the world for as long as she could, but her son seemed intent on preventing that.

Even so, once again, he had been lucky, and his resilience had seen him through something that would have been the end of most. Where he got such a strength, she did not know, but Harry was still here, and for now, that was the very best she could’ve hoped for.

“What about the newspapers?”

Sirius shook his head.

“Speculation and rumours, as usual, but they do not know anything definitive about Harry’s involvement.”

“And you still have no idea who was behind it?”

Sirius’s expression darkened.

“I have my thoughts, but proving it is another matter entirely. Not that going to the Aurors is an option. I will be handling this myself.”

It was not often she saw Sirius in such a way.

Gone was the jovial, mischievous, boyish man she had come to know so well over the years. Sitting in the chair opposite her was the Lord Black, a man that was conspiring with himself to ensure whoever was responsible for what happened paid for it dearly.

“Mrs Potter, there are visitors here to see him,” one of the Healers informed her as she opened the door.

All of the staff were rather vexed by the personal security guards standing outside the door and lining the length of the hallway outside.

A man Lily did not know, Reginald Yaxley, had arranged it, and had spent considerable time with Harry during his daily visits here.

It turned out that he had been a close friend of Charlus Potter, something she had easily confirmed by the dozens of photographs he had shared of them together, along with Sirius’s grandfather.

“Who is it?” she asked cautiously.

“It is Wendell Green.”

Lily nodded.

Wendell had visited Harry almost every day, but then again, all of his friends did. Sirius had arranged a portkey for Marisa when he had broken the news to them of what had happened.

They had not taken it well, and Wendell still looked as though he hadn’t slept much this past week as he entered the room, having undoubtedly been searched by the guards.

Each of them were former Aurors, according to Reginald; men and women he trusted from his years on the job.

From what Sirius had told her, Cornelius Fudge was rather put out that his own Aurors were not guarding Harry, but Lily had no reason to trust the man, not when he showed so much foolish faith in the likes of Lucius Malfoy.

“Anything?” Wendell asked.

Lily shook her head.

“Not yet, but the Healers do not think it will be much longer. He is still improving.”

Wendell nodded as he took a seat at the foot of the bed.

He did not say much when he was here, but he didn’t need to. Just his presence was enough for Lily to see just how much the boy treasured Harry’s friendship.

(Break)

“Where’s Harry!”

That was the pressing question, and though her gaze swept around the entirety of the basement several times, there was no sign of the boy.

“He was with us,” Maggie reminded them.

Gabrielle released a deep sigh as she shook her head.

“He went back. He would not leave his mother behind.”

None argued with her assessment of the situation, and yet, they were helpless to do anything. They were stuck here in the basement and would not be able to leave until Sirius or Lily returned.

“What do we do?” Fleur asked worriedly.

“There is nothing we can do.”

For how long they remained in the basement worrying about what was happening back in Britain, Gabrielle did not know, but with each passing moment, her anxiety increased tenfold.

Not only was Harry there with his mother and Sirius, but her own parents were also with them.

Fleur seemed to be thinking of just that too, and she wrapped an arm around Gabrielle’s shoulder.

“They will be fine.”

She could only nod in response, but the words of her sister brought her little comfort, and it wasn’t until the door to the basement opened perhaps an hour or so later did they get the answers they desperately needed.

“Your parents are fine, Gabrielle. They will be here shortly to collect you and Fleur,” Sirius assured her. “Harry… he is not doing so well.”

“What happened?” Olivia asked.

The teens listened carefully as Sirius explained all that had transpired, how Harry had saved them, had fallen victim to an awful curse, and how Gabrielle’s mother had done all she could to keep him alive long enough for the Healers to get to him, though he had certainly been vague with some of the details.

All that mattered however, was that they had managed to keep Harry, and although he was barely hanging on by a thread, Harry was once again defying the odds, and living through something that should’ve killed him.

Gabrielle did not know when she had started to cry, but she made no effort to wipe away her tears. Harry was her best friend, the first person outside of her family to welcome her into his life with no expectations other than a shared friendship between them.

“Will he be okay?” she choked.

Sirius swallowed deeply.

“I do not know,” he answered.

Her parents had indeed arrived only a few moments later, both quite shaken by what had happened, but relieved to see both Fleur and Gabrielle had made it out of the forest without a scratch.

Their mother’s hair was missing in large clumps, and both bore their share of cuts and bruises, but they were alive.

Even now, Gabrielle could still see the missing hair from her mother’s head, and despite how close she herself had become with Harry, what her mother had done was not to be ignored. A Veela’s hair was sacred, sometimes given to another they shared a close bond with to use as a wand core, or to a lover as a gift, a sign of deep affection.

Her mother had given some of her to save Harry’s life, just as he had spilled his own blood to save Gabrielle’s parents.

Although there was no magical connection or debt between them, the symbolism was not lost on Gabrielle. Despite the tragedy, it had brought them closer together, a life for a life when both had needed the help of the other.

“Will we be visiting Harry today?” Fleur asked.

It wasn’t as though her sister was selfish, but these past years since she had started school at Beauxbatons, she’d become more self-centred, perhaps from necessity to protect herself from the comments others made about her.

Gabrielle did not doubt she loved her family dearly, but Fleur had become rather numb and ignorant to those outside of it.

Now, with Harry, however, not a day went by that she did not ask after him.

Gabrielle had seen the two of them talking, how Harry had helped her sister to relax, and had even elicited a genuine smile from her. All of this had been before the unfortunate incident that had come in the early hours of the next morning, but his bravery come stupidity had evidently won the older Veela fully over.

“I expect we will when your father is home,” their mother answered.

Fleur nodded before continuing to eat her lunch whilst she skimmed through one of the books on Enchanting she had borrowed from school over the summer.

In all, it had not been the best of weeks.

Gabrielle had spent her days worrying about Harry, willing him to wake up whenever the Delacours visited, and writing regularly to the others, who were visiting Harry too just as often as she was.

What became clear to her, not that she wasn’t aware of it before, was just how loved the boy was, how many admired him, and how many had gone out of their way just to see for themselves that he was indeed alive.

Not that it surprised Gabrielle, not really. Harry had this magnetism about him, a way of making others feel that they wanted to be around him, well, those he took a liking to at least.

It was just another one of those admirable things about him, even if he had made some odd friends over the years.

“So, is the little shit really hurt or is he being a malingering ass, as usual?”

“Adrian, look at him. Of course he’s hurt.”

Adrian Grave looked horrified at the sight of Harry’s pale skin, and his eyes widened at the sight of Harry’s mother.

“You have my apologies, Mrs Potter. Adrian doesn’t know when to shut up. I’m Alexandra Wilkinson, and this moron is Adrian Grave. We were Harry’s first prefects.”

Gabrielle did not know what to say as she observed the back and forth, but Harry’s mother smiled.

“He mentioned you both, more than once,” she replied reassuringly. “Believe it or not, I understand the relationship you have with my son.”

“Well, that’s probably not a good thing,” Adrian said sheepishly. “You know, I think a lot of him really, but that doesn’t mean he’s any less of an annoying little so-and-so. And who might you be?” he asked, his gaze shifting towards Gabrielle. “Are you his long-suffering girlfriend?”

Gabrielle had not known what to say, but oddly, Adrian Grave was a breath of fresh air in what had been a dreadful few days before he’d arrived to visit Harry.

Somehow, he’d lightened the mood, even if it was for a few minutes, and had murmured something about Sugar being a fighter before he’d placed a gift on the table and leaving St Mungo’s to return to his job as an Auror.

Gabrielle shook her head.

Adrian had handled it all rather well, much better than she had.

Flashback

She froze at the sight of him, unable to move at just how little life there was in Harry.

His skin was pale, and even from her vantage point in the doorway, she could smell the cocktail of potions seeping from his skin, mixed with the undeniable scent of lingering blood.

He looked to be dead and were it not for the shallow rise and fall of his chest, it would be impossible to convince herself that he somehow yet breathed.

Doing her utmost not to burst into tears, she managed to approach and spotted the puckered flesh below his collarbone that was in the shape of a feather, not so dissimilar to the one her father had received on her parent’s wedding day, but Harry’s was not one born of such devotion a female gave her chosen lover.

His was a gift of life, and though Sirius and her father had said they were not certain if Harry would live through his ordeal, she had not quite believed just how much he was teetering on the brink of death.

Perhaps Gabrielle had idealised him as this ever-present force that could not be beaten, that would always be around, but seeing him now, he was just another boy; extraordinary in his own ways, but still human.

She said nothing as she took a seat next to him and grasped his hand in her own.

It was cold to the touch, unnaturally so, and she found herself checking once more that he was still breathing.

For how long she remained just watching and urging him to wake up, she didn’t know, but it wasn’t until her father pulled her from her thoughts that she released him and wiped the tears from her eyes.

End Flashback

It had been dreadful these past few days waiting for the news that he had finally woken up, though she took comfort noting that he seemed to be gaining a little more colour to his cheeks with each visit, and his breathing was getting stronger.

All she needed now was for him to open his eyes.

Then and only then would she truly believe that he would be well.

(Break)

Other than sitting in the nursing chair in the stately muggle home and nursing the infant Dark Lord, this was the very last place Peter wanted to be.

He had spent the past days carefully navigating himself around St Mungo’s, accessing files, listening in on conversations, but unable to get close to where the Potter boy was being kept.

There were too many guards to get past, and neither Sirius nor Lily left Harry alone, even for a second. No, it was far too risky, and he had been specifically instructed by the Dark Lord to not harm the boy, which was part of the reason he was here.

He had been furious when he’d learned of what the Death Eaters had done at the World Cup, and Peter did not doubt that there would be severe repercussions for those involved when his master returned to full health.

He shook his head at the memory of Quirrell arriving with the news, shuddering as he always had when a little too close to Lord Voldemort when he lost his temper.

Flashback

“The damned fools!” he wheezed. “Who was it?”

“I do not know, my lord,” Quirinus answered, “but from what you have told me, only very few would have that much influence.”

The Dark Lord nodded and narrowed his eyes.

“Lucius,” he murmured. “It is no secret he has ambitions for his so to be the next Lord Black, and killing Potter and Sirius would make it so. No other would take such a risk without considerable reward.”

“But the others followed him,” Quirinus pointed out.

“And I will have my answers as to why when the time is right,” the Dark Lord declared. “Wormtail, I have a task for you.”

End Flashback

He had been sent here to ascertain just how badly Potter had been injured, what treatment he was receiving, and what his future prognosis would be.

According to the Healers he had overheard, it had been a near miss, and the boy was lucky to be alive.

The Dark Lord would be relieved to hear it, at least.

He had not spoken much of his plans, but Peter was certain the man intended to kill Harry himself and would be unspeakably angry if any other did so, whether or not it was on his behalf.

Knowing he would be unable to glean anything else without considerable risk, he readied himself to leave St Mungo’s, but it was not to something much more pleasant than the fear of death of being here that waited for him.

No, it was back to nursing the Dark Lord, along with that same fear that the man might just kill him on a whim or even feed him to his snake should Peter fail to do as he was bid.

He shuddered at the thought, but that was his lot in life.

For the better part of twelve years, he had managed to remain hidden, but now, he was very much back in the thick of what he’d believed he’d left behind.

The Dark Lord would undoubtedly return to what he had once been, and yet, the future was still so uncertain beyond that for Peter Pettigrew, but if those opposing Lord Voldemort were to catch up with him, it would be much bleaker and shorter than the alternative of continuing his service.

(Break)

It had not gone according to plan.

Lucius had been certain he’d be able to rid himself of the burden of Black and Potter in one fell swoop, but somehow, he’d been thwarted, and in the process, Gibbon had been killed by a stray curse in the main campsite.

Unfortunately, Cornelius had been unable to quell the headlines of the involvement of the Death Eaters responsible for the chaos, but Gibbon nor any of the others had been identified.

Not yet, at least.

Worse yet, although it had not been confirmed, there were more than enough witnesses willing to attest to Harry Potter being present; many of whom were rivals of the Minister within the Ministry.

No meeting of the Wizengamot had been called as yet, but such an occurrence was inevitable, and Cornelius would need to answer several difficult questions.

“If only I could speak to the boy,” the Minister huffed. “It could be quite the publicised event, but his blasted mother will not have it.”

For Cornelius, this was nothing short of a political disaster.

The very first time Potter was known to have returned to Britain since he’d been but a babe, he’d been attacked quite openly, and it had failed.

Lucius had barely avoided being caught up in the sudden explosion, and had managed to escape before the Aurors had arrived, though not before he had given the Potter boy a parting gift.

How he had survived, Lucius did not know, but truthfully, he was not surprised.

The boy had lived through an encounter with the Dark Lord after all, so, for now, it appeared he would remain one of those obstacles standing in his way of obtaining the Black Family wealth and title for his son.

“Are you listening to me, Lucius? What am I going to do?”

“Patience, Minister,” Lucius urged. “This will all be forgotten about in a matter of days.”

He hoped.

His ploy had failed, and he had drawn unwanted attention to himself.

Black was brash, but he had proven not to not be as foolish as Lucius had once believed, and he would be pondering just who it was who would dare stage such an attack.

That list was small, and his own name would undoubtedly be at the very top of it.

Not that Black could prove anything, of course.

Lucius had been as meticulous as ever, had the strongest of alibies to had should he need to insist upon it from the highest office in the land.

Not that such a thing would be sufficient for the likes of Black, and Lucius could not deny that the man made him rather nervous. He was no longer the young, cocksure, and arrogant boy that had run in the same circles as James Potter.

No, he was a different man now, much shrewder than most would have expected from him, and a dangerous foe.

Nonetheless, he was not Arcturus Black, and Lucius took just a little comfort from that.

(Break)

He couldn’t be certain if what he had seen and experienced had been real, but he vividly remembered the curse tearing through his flesh and even passing through him.

It had hit him directly enough that he’d undeniably fallen victim to the effects of it, but it was what had come after that was a little hazy.

Fire.

He could distinctly recount the fire filling his fading vision, and then the agony that followed. Even now, he could see his mother’s face when he’d opened his eyes, the concern, the anger, and the sense of loss.

For all intents and purpose, Harry had accepted that he was going to die.

He wasn’t sure what curse was ravaging his body, but he could feel himself fading, and try as he might, he’d been unable to offer his mother more than a reassuring smile before all had faded.

Where he was now, he didn’t know, but the lights were bright, and he wasn’t alone.

Perhaps he was dead.

No, if that was so, he would not be aware of a familiar magical presence lingering nearby.

“You know, it is rude to look through people’s things without their permission.”

He heard the woman gasp and even felt the glare she levelled towards him.

“You stupid, bloody prat!” Tonks huffed. “You could’ve given me a heart attack.”

“Oh, if only I could have such an effect on your heart, Nymphadora, an attack of it would be the least of our worries.”

The woman quirked an eyebrow at him.

“I think we should have the Healers check your head again, Potter, because you did not just flirt with me!”

“Me? No, I know that kind of charm wouldn’t work on you, but that doesn’t mean I won’t take advantage of my illness whilst I can. How about a sponge bath to sooth my aches?”

Tonks shook her head.

“You’re an idiot, and you almost got yourself killed!” she huffed. “You’re not ill, and I would be more worried about what your mother is going to do to you now that you’re awake.”

Harry winced at the mention of the woman.

“Then how about a quick kiss before she kills me?” he asked, pointing to his cheek.

The woman rolled her eyes at him.

“You’ve changed since I last saw you,” she sighed. “My Mum told me that your Dad had a way with charming girls when he wanted to. You must get that from him. How’re you feeling?”

Harry frowned at the question.

He wasn’t sure.

There was a lingering weakness he was contending with, but for the most part, he felt well enough, even if the memories of what had happened were a little hazy.

“I don’t know,” he answered honestly. “Where is my Mum?”

“Mine managed to convince her to get a little fresh air,” Tonks explained. “I don’t think she will be long.”

“Great, so maybe I have just enough time to plan my funeral before she gets back,” Harry snorted.

“Stop being so dramatic. I’d better tell the Healer that you’re awake. They will want to check you over to make sure you’re not a completely lost cause.”

She left the room and Harry raised himself onto his pillows. When he was a little more comfortable, he poured himself a glass of water before draining it to quench his thirst.

Despite having been here for several days, he could still smell the burning of the forest, or perhaps it was his singed flesh. He could see the top of a very odd, raised scar peering from the edge of his blankets, but before he could inspect it, the door to his room suddenly opened.

“Harry!” his mother whispered, a myriad of emotions crossing her features so quickly that Harry could not discern them all.

She rushed forward and swept him up in her arms, and though Harry did not regret what he had done, he did feel himself plagued by guilt for what he’d put the woman through these past days.

His mother had slept little, the bags under her eyes attesting to the lack of rest she’d gotten, but for the moment, he was just pleased to see her again.

That, however, might change when she inevitably gave in to the anger she must be feeling towards him, but for once, Harry knew he had earned the lecture coming his way.

“You stupid, stupid boy,” she chided. “What were you thinking?”

Harry did not like seeing his mother cry. It reminded him of when he’d been younger and she leave the room to do it in a bid to hide it from him, but he always knew.

“That you needed help.”

She deflated and shook her head tiredly.

“But never at your expense.”

“And not at yours either.”

“I am your mother!”

“And I am your son. You can’t expect me to just sit by and watch you be killed. That is never going to happen, and that is something you must get used to. I know you don’t like it, and I don’t like that you would willingly sacrifice yourself for me, but that is the way it is. It would be better for us both if we can find some common ground, wouldn’t it?”

For someone so logical, Lily Potter did not like it when such an approach was used against her in an argument.

“You know, for as much as you are like your father, I sometimes think there is just a little too much of me in you, Harry James Potter.”

“That’s why I’m so damned smart,” he replied with a grin.

Lily Potter, however, wasn’t smiling, and Harry did not doubt that this wasn’t the end of the discussion, but for now, at least, she seemed to be content with him just being awake and as well as he was.

Still, Harry had his own questions, things he needed clearing up.

“What happened after, well, you know?” he asked.

“I don’t know for certain,” his mother said with a shrug, “but someone who does will be here shortly.”

(Break)

“You hesitated before you helped him.”

Her tone was almost accusatory, and Apolline’s gaze shifted towards the unconscious boy in the bed, and her two daughters sitting with him.

“I did, but not because I did not want to save him, it is because I knew what would happen to him if I did.”

“What do you mean?” Lily asked curiously.

Apolline shook her head.

“What I did for Harry, as much as it was done only to save his life, is a very intimate thing for my kind. You see, the magic I used won’t have such an effect on him that is dangerous but…”

It was a rather embarrassing admission to make, even more so that the Harry was just a boy. She had not dared mention exactly what she’d done to her mother, and certainly not Fleur or Gabrielle.

Sebastien had taken it well, and had even teased her about it, but in hindsight, although Apolline did not regret saving Harry, what she’d done would be frowned upon.

“Well, Harry will probably have certain kinds of dreams.”

Lily frowned for a moment before her eyes widened.

“About you.”

“Yes. That is why I hesitated, and I would appreciate it if you did not mention this to anyone else. Of course, Sebastien knows and understands but…”

“I won’t say a word,” Lily broke in, “and we probably should never mention this again.”

The woman was almost as uncomfortable as she was; something of a relief.

“He won’t fall in love…”

“No, nothing like that, but he is a fourteen-year-old boy.”

Lily grimaced.

“How long will these dreams last?”

“I do not know, but the more the magic fades, the less frequent they will become.”

“Well, the Healer says there isn’t much of it left.”

“Then they should pass quickly.”

She certainly did not relish the thought of Harry having such dreams, but choosing between her embarrassment and his life, Apolline did not regret her choice.

Even so, she hoped there was no awkwardness between them when he woke. Not that Harry was likely to mention it.

He would likely be just as embarrassed as her about the situation, after all.

(Break)

It had been a week, and even the Chief Warlock himself had been unable to glean anything from the Minister and his thoughts on what had happened. It was not lost on Sirius, however, that the man continued to keep the company and counsel of Lucius Malfoy and had failed to call a meeting of the Wizengamot.

Any competent leader would’ve done so the moment he got wind that the Death Eaters had been involved, but Fudge was just as cowardly as he was stupid.

Neither Sirius nor Albus, however, were.

“Lucius is the only one that has that much influence,” Sirius murmured.

Albus nodded his agreement.

“But knowing it and proving it are two separate things.”

“And even if I could prove it, it would make no difference. Fudge would sooner see his career flushed down the pan than admit he had ever been wrong. He would find a way to prevent any inquiry, which is why I will not be petitioning for one.”

“You won’t?”

Sirius shook his head.

“It would do no good, and besides, I would other handle it in a more traditional sense. I will be making my own enquiries, and when I have enough proof, I will act upon the evidence I have. The attempted murder of an heir to a pureblood family is something that I cannot take lightly, and nor can anyone else that doesn’t have shit between their ears.”

He could see that Albus did not approve, but this was not a call for the man to make either as his employer or as the Chief Warlock. Sirius was well within his rights to act accordingly, and he intended to do so.

“I would urge you to tread carefully,” Albus sighed. “Lucius still carries considerable influence and can make your life rather difficult.”

“He can, and I expect he will at every turn, but he will not get the better of me, Albus. I will make sure he pays for what he did.”

Albus appeared to be choosing his next words carefully, likely to urge Sirius not to act rashly, but before he could speak them, a familiar patronus arrived in the form of a doe.

“Harry is awake!”

Sirius breathed a sigh of relief, and Albus offered him a genuine smile.

“Please, feel free to use my floo. I will inform Filius and Minerva.”

Sirius did not need telling twice, and only a moment later, he was stepping into the foyer of St Mungo’s, where he continued on his way, arriving at the private wing he had secured for his godson upon his arrival.

Those standing guard merely nodded as he passed them by, and as he entered the room he had spent countless hours in this past week, he allowed himself to relax for the first time since the night of the world cup final.

Harry was sitting up, still not quite looking his best, but he was indeed awake and speaking with the Delacours.

“So, there is no magical obligation between us?” he asked curiously.

Apolline shook her head.

“Non, Harry. You saved our lives, and it seems that I saved yours.”

The boy nodded before he grinned.

“And I got some cool scars out of it,” he replied, pushing down his blanket to reveal the markings.

“Stupid boy,” Apolline chastised lightly, “and please, cover yourself. My daughters do not need to see your exposed body.”

Harry frowned as he peered beneath the thin shroud, his eyes widening in realisation.

“Wait, have I been naked this whole time? How many people have been in and out of this room?”

Sirius chuckled amusedly.

“Oh, dozens,” he answered.

“But do not worry, Harry,” Fleur broke in. “We didn’t let just anyone take a peek at you, only those we knew you wouldn’t mind.”

The others within the room laughed, and Harry shook his head.

“I feel violated in so many ways,” he huffed.

Lily tutted.

“No one tried to peek at you, Harry.”

“Good.”

“But if you are disappointed, maybe Gabrielle would like to change that for you,” Fleur teased.

“And on that note, I think we should let Harry get some rest,” Sebastien sighed, shaking his head. “Come along.”

The Delacours bid their farewells, and Sebastien paused as they took their leave of the room.

“Do not have daughters, Sirius,” he urged.

Sirius chuckled amusedly as the man followed the rest of his family, but any amusement he felt evaporated as he looked towards his godson.

Harry was lost in thought, a deep frown creasing is brow, and Sirius could almost feel the anger rolling off him in waves.

“What is it?” Lily asked.

“Someone tried to kill me,” Harry murmured, “and I want to know who it was.”

Lily looked towards Sirius and he shook his head subtly.

He did not doubt that the boy would figure it out for himself, but he was hopeful it would be him to solve the problem before Harry took it upon himself to do so.

For as kind and caring as he was for the most part, there was vengeful streak in the boy a mile long, and despite what had happened to him only a week ago, that would not deter him from seeking retribution against those responsible.