Hot. Hot. Hot. It was only June and it was already stinking hot. It wouldn't matter if going outside to say, ride a bike were an option. But Harry Potter didn't have a bike and didn't have permission to go outside. So it was hot. Dudley was outside, of course. Probably beating up some little kid who also had permission to go outside.
Bored. Bored. Bored. Bored enough to do schoolwork. But no, Harry Potter couldn't do schoolwork. Not allowed in the proper Dursley household. OK, doing schoolwork to relieve boredom might be going a bit too far. It was still June and Harry wasn’t that desperate quite yet. Ron would understand. Maybe Ron was as miserably bored, too. And hot.
No. Ron likely wasn't bored and hot. Ron had a great family to do lots of great things with outside on great land with lots of great shade trees. Well, there was Percy, but everyone had a black sheep. Or was Percy a white sheep? Did it matter when it was so hot?
Hungry. Harry added hungry to the list. Was it going to be lunchtime any time soon? Ron would just go to the fridge and get a snack, but no, Harry couldn't go to the fridge to get a snack. Harry was stuck in his room. Stuck in his room where he was hot, bored and hungry. Weren't the hols supposed to be fun?
So he'd mouthed off to Dudley. Dudley was a great big oaf who'd deserved a great big mouthing off. If Harry were at Hogwarts he'd be able to tell someone off for punching him in the face. Well, unless certain professors were around, then the offending kid would likely be given a free shot as consolation for hurting his fist on Harry's face.
Hot. Bored. Hungry. HEDWIG! He'd bother Hedwig. She'd welcome some attention.
“Hedwig... Hedwig?”
The snowy owl opened an amber eye half-way and regarded him sleepily, then with a muffled hoot, she ducked her head back under her wing.
OK, maybe not. Owls tended to want to sleep on hot summer days. Go figure. Well fine, if she comes looking for attention during the night when she bothers herself to wake up, well, he just might not bother himself to wake up. So there.
Actually, realizing that you're plotting revenge on your nocturnal familiar for wanting to sleep on a hot summer day was enough to knock you straight out of self-pity mode.
So, action. Action would help. It might stir some of the air in here, get it moving, make it cooler.
Cleaning the room might help, but really, it wasn't all that bad. Some socks over there, a wet towel over there-that was pretty much it. Might as well leave the towel there, since he wasn't allowed out of his room to put it in the towel hamper. OK, socks are in the bag.
Now what? Cleaning Hedwig's cage while she rests is definitely out.
Deciding he was already being a nicer guy, Harry nodded, satisfied. Action did help.
Someone was coming upstairs. Maybe it was lunch time? According to the clock it was a bit early but not too much. The footsteps were Aunt Petunia's and next came the hoped for rapping at the door. “Dress decently. We're going out in half an hour,” his aunt called, her tone short, as always, when she addressed Harry.
Out? YES! We're going out! Harry punched the air with enthusiasm.
Uncle Vernon had been home from work this week. He'd taken a week's vacation and the family had been going out somewhere almost every day. Until now, they'd not taken Harry along. This time, though, it seemed he was invited. With Dudley along, there would surely be food. In a car, there would be air conditioning. At the destination, there might be fun! The day was certainly looking up.
Dudley came roaring into the house; and as he pounded up the stairs, his mother rushed behind him offering suggestions on which cute outfit he should wear for their outing. Harry shook his head. When would his aunt allow his cousin to grow up?
A few minutes later they were all in the car and Dudley was whining to his parents about Harry being allowed to come along.
“We had no choice, Duddy, the Albertsons invited us to this festival and were clear that they expected we'd have the boy with us." Aunt Petunia sweet talked to Dudley, as she always did when he didn't get his way.
That was interesting. The Albertsons had been dinner guests of the Dursleys’ the night after Harry had returned to Privet Drive from his third year at Hogwarts. They'd arrived early and so the Dursleys’ hadn't had a chance to hide Harry away. He'd been introduced and allowed to eat dinner with them that night. The Albertsons had seemed to like Harry and had asked a lot of questions about school. It had been a difficult conversation because most of Hogwarts' classes couldn't be translated easily into matching Muggle classes, but Harry felt he'd done a fair job of it.
Now the Albertsons were apparently going to a fair and they had a daughter the same age as Dudley and Harry. To give her someone to hang out with, the Dursleys had been invited to join them, and Harry was included in the invitation.
"Their account is important to Daddy, Dudders. We have no choice but to bring Harry along. But I promise," she simpered, "we'll make it up to you tomorrow. Maybe we'll go shopping for a new sword for your fine collection. There's a space on the wall right next to your computer desk where a beautiful new sword and scabbard would look just right. Then we'll have dinner out. We'll make a day of it. He will stay home and prune the rose bushes."
Placated, Dudley sat back and gave Harry a smug look.
And that was how Harry had been allowed to go along on a family day trip.
Dudley was soon bored with the drive and his favorite victim was only inches away. This wasn't going to turn out well. Dudley had recently been given a game system with a guitar that could be attached and a game that you used with the guitar. Harry didn't know anything more about it than that. What he did know was that if the sounds Dudley produced with that guitar were part of that game, he wasn't sorry he didn't have one for himself.
Dudley mimed pulling out his guitar and proceeded to vigorously gyrate in the backseat, playing his air guitar and singing loudly. Some people should not sing out loud in public. Dudley was one of them. He made sure to invade Harry's side of the car frequently with his wild gyrations.
The second time Dudley's arm whacked Harry in the face, Harry again forgot that he wasn't allowed to yell at Dudley. “Dudley, you buffoon!” Ut Oh. You'd think he'd remember after the last rather forceful reminder. But no, fresh from school where he was an equal with hundreds of other students, he tended to forget himself in the first weeks at Privet Drive. His place in this family was not that of an equal, nor even a guest. It was that of an unwanted, unloved, unpleasant slug type creature from some bog somewhere. And now he was in trouble again.
Dudley wailed to his father as he smirked at Harry. Purple with rage that Harry would dare shout at Dudley twice within days, Uncle Vernon turned right around in his seat and aimed a fist at Harry's head. Harry easily dodged the large man's lame attempt at an attack, which angered the man even more. Everyone stiffened when Aunt Petunia, her voice sharp with sudden panic, yelled “VERNON!” Uncle Vernon whipped back around, grabbed the wheel with both hands and tried to correct their course.
In the moments following Aunt Petunia's shriek, life seemed to proceed in a slow motion blur. There was the screech of tires trying and failing to find traction; the car seemed to spin completely around; there was a blare of horns, blending with the screams of the Dursleys, the combined sounds piercing through Harry’s head louder than any Howler; Harry’s own voice seemed to have quite deserted him, and his breath had hitched in his chest; then a very loud crack… and then nothing.
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When Harry next came to, there were voices fading in and out and a lot of lights of different colors, pulsing, flaring, and flashing around him. Red was chief among them. At least it isn't green, Harry thought, before darkness claimed him again.
“Ah, you're awake!” A cheerful female voice penetrated the fog in Harry's brain. “You've been out for several days. We were hoping you'd wake soon.”
Days? Out of what? Huh? Harry's brain seemed to want to start working but it hadn't yet bothered to connected itself to his mouth. He just stared blankly at the woman with the colourful blobs on her shirt. As she slipped his glasses on his head he could see they were Sesame Street characters. Why was an adult wearing a Muggle child's cartoon on her shirt? “Are you a Muggle?” was, unfortunately, the first thing his brain sent to his mouth.
“Muggle? Is that a new term for nurse?”
Right, this was a nurse. She was tall and thin and had long blond hair. Not Malfoy blond, but a golden blond. She had a pretty smile with a small space between her top front teeth, the only thing that was a tiny bit less than perfect about her looks. He'd be willing to bet she had a big fan club among male patients.
“Oh, um, yes, it is.”
“Well then yes, I'm a Muggle,” the nurse said, her smile widening briefly.
Harry groaned. He was obviously in hospital and without even working at it he'd stuck his foot in his mouth right away. If someone up there was keeping count, this summer's ledger was going to number several volumes.
As his brain figured itself out, more information came trickling in. A certain amount of soreness, especially on his right side and midsection, made itself known. His right leg seemed to be in a cast. There was what he believed to be called an IV running into his left arm and his right arm was covered in stark white bandages.
Great. Wand arm.
The Dursleys! The memory that they had been in the car as well struck Harry. “Ma'am, my family...” he said, trying to push himself up into a sitting position. The movement made him gasp with pain, and the nurse put a hand to his shoulder, gently but firmly pushing him back down.
“Don't worry, your aunt and uncle are fine and your cousin is recovering nicely,” she said soothingly.
“Dudley's recovering? Is he badly hurt?”
“Apparently your family’s car spun around in traffic and was hit from behind by an oncoming car in the opposite lane. You and your cousin were both hurt but your aunt and uncle were not. Your cousin is going to be fine. He has a back injury but his prognosis is good.”
A back injury didn't sound fine at all, but a good prognosis appeared to mean his cousin had a good chance of recovering, so that was better.
If only he hadn't yelled at Dudley. He knew better! Wasn't he already being punished for just such an offense? And now look what happened. Uncle Vernon's hatred for him often made him blind to his surroundings and it was pretty stupid to make him that angry while he was driving the car. Fear and guilt gripped Harry, putting a lump in his throat.
What had he been thinking! Harry knew how to keep his head low. He knew how to restrain himself when he was around the Dursleys. He understood that he was a second class citizen among them, and that behaving as if he was one of them came with consequences. Why could he never remember that when returning from the real world?
At least Uncle Vernon and Aunt Petunia weren't hurt. Harry couldn't have born it if he'd been even part of the cause of Dudley being orphaned. He may not have liked his cousin, but being an orphan was something he wouldn't wish on anyone, even Dudley.
Right now what was important though, was that it seemed as if his body were being held together by bright white bandages. He suppressed an urge to giggle at the thought of unwrapping himself and dropping a trail of body parts behind him. The urge to giggle was stronger than it should have been, making him assume he’d been drugged with some pretty strong pain killers. Still, it was pretty funny.
“Ma'am?” he managed, stifling the strange hilarity with difficulty. “Can you tell me what's wrong with me, please?”
The sweet nurse smiled encouragingly at Harry. “Your doctor will be here in a few minutes and she'll explain all of that to you, then. Okay, Sweetie?”
Normally he might have protested being called ‘Sweetie’ on the grounds that he was fourteen years old… much too old for such a term, an endearment that was fit for kids maybe ten and younger. But Harry’s mind was still too foggy for him to be able to voice his thoughts, and so he just nodded. No sooner had he done so then a wave of overwhelming exhaustion coursed through him, and then another. He gave in as yet another strong wave made his eyelids impossibly heavy, and fell into a deep sleep.
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“Harry? Harry?” A gentle nudge to his shoulder brought him to wakefulness again. It was a very pretty lady with jet-black hair and a wide, beautiful smile. “I'm Dr. Kagan Lorrie and I've come to have a chat with you about your injuries and treatments.” Harry thought that if she continued to smile at him like that, he'd do pretty much anything for her. She looked like someone who would never lock a kid in a cupboard. She would make sure all children got enough to eat. And with her smile, you'd always know you were loved. Harry beamed at her.
Dr. Lorrie sat in a chair next to Harry's bed and put her hand over his. “As I believe Nurse Ryan mentioned, you've been in an accident. You were hurt pretty badly in some places. When you arrived here you had a broken leg, lacerations on your arm, and had received a heavy blow to your belly.
“We set your leg, bandaged your arm, and we had to operate on your belly. There were several tears inside you but we stopped the bleeding and you should heal up nicely," the doctor gently explained.
"Now, I'm here alone because I have some questions for you that probably shouldn't be asked in public. Nurse Ryan told me that nurses are now called 'Muggles'. She loves the word and has been spreading it to all the other nurses. I thought that was probably a bad idea. I'm afraid I told her that you must have been mistaken when you called her that because I'd heard it was a derogatory term.”
Harry's heart was racing. He'd really done it this time. Would they snap his wand and send him back to the Dursleys for using Wizarding terms around Muggles? But he couldn't go to the Dursleys, could he? The Dursleys likely hated him more now than ever.
The pretty doctor correctly identified Harry's expression. “No Harry, really, you've done nothing wrong. I didn't mean to give you that impression,” she quickly assured him. “Nurse Ryan agreed to tell everyone so they'd stop using the term.
"The reason I brought this up is that when I heard the word 'Muggle”, I asked to be put on as your primary doctor. When I operated on you, I wasn't looking at your face. When I heard your name though, I immediately recognized you, of course. I'm magical, as well. I don't practice magical medicine; my father attended Durmstrang and hated it there. My mother was educated by her own mother and grandmother. When I was born, my dad refused to let me let me attend a magical institution. I've never had a formal magical education, but my parents did what they could to help me learn as much as possible at home. They're from a very old family that practices a rather old and somewhat outdated school of magic. I think it's lovely and it works for me, so I'm OK with how things turned out. And that brings me to another point. As good as I am at my job; I know that more can be done for you by Magical Healers. Am I right?”
Harry nodded. He had first-hand knowledge of how well Madame Pomfrey could treat serious injuries. But he couldn’t help but be somewhat disappointed that this nice doctor appeared to want to pass him off.
There was something else she'd said that caught Harry's attention, and now that he thought about it, he wasn't sure why he should be so surprised. "Durmstrang? Is that another school of magic? I didn't know there were others or that some kids were home schooled."
"Oh, yes, there are several other main schools that children from European countries attend. Durmstrang and Hogwarts are two, Baubaxtons is the third. There are smaller schools, too, of course. Private institutions are fairly common and many families do choose to home school. They get a special dispensation from the Ministry to allow their children to practice magic at home so they can learn to use magic, too."
Harry nodded. It made sense that Hogwarts wouldn't be the only school. That there were others just hadn't occurred to him. He wondered what they were like, whether they had a poltergeist, moving staircases, ghosts for teachers, and greasy-haired Potions Masters who hated kids.
“The problem is," the doctor continued, "I don't have a way of contacting anyone from the hospital there and I've never been shown its location. Would you know how to get hold of them or would your aunt and uncle be able to show me the way so I can get you magical help?”
Oh, no, that wouldn't go. “No, Ma'am, they don't know how to get there, either. But I have an owl who could get to my Headmaster. He would know what to do. I don't think the Dursleys would bring me my owl, though."
“They are very preoccupied with your cousin right now, but let me call them in and see what can be done. We need them here to discuss your treatment options, anyway, as they're your guardians, correct?”
Harry nodded once again and she was up and gone before Harry could utter a syllable in protest.
A few minutes later, the elder Dursleys were standing in the doorway. Aunt Petunia looked nervous, Uncle Vernon looked angry. Dr. Lorrie ushered them in and Aunt Petunia walked to the foot of Harry's bed with her arms crossed and an angry look on her thin, horse-like face, while Uncle Vernon merely moved a few steps inside the door.
Dr. Lorrie gave them a rundown on Harry's injuries with a bit more detail than she'd given Harry. They appeared unmoved throughout the explanation. Harry hoped Dr. Lorrie hadn't noticed, but from the stiff way she was holding herself, he guessed she probably had. The doctor then explained to them that Harry would heal faster with a magical healer and asked them if one of them would care to run home and send Harry's owl to Professor Dumbledore of Hogwarts School.
Both Aunt Petunia and Uncle Vernon began to sputter in outrage. Dr. Lorrie bravely ploughed on.
"Your son Dudley, is he magical, as well?"
Uncle Vernon looked at the doctor, looked at Harry, and snarled a rather filthy insult that was way worse than the words he usually threw at Harry. This was definitely not going well. Harry mentally sighed.
Dursley then turned on his heel and stormed out of the room. Seriously, he could give Professor Snape a run for his galleons.
"You don't know what you're asking!" Aunt Petunia hissed. "My Dudley is absolutely not one of them! How do you know of the boy's freak school and his people?"
Harry watched as the doctor stepped back from his guardians, a tight smile on her face. “I realize your son and nephew were injured, and it has likely coloured your reactions, but I am sure you want what is best for both of them. Now, as to how I know about Harry’s school, I am, in fact, magical as well, though I’ve had no formal magical education.”
Aunt Petunia look horrified. "That boy caused us to wreck our car,” she snapped. “I have no way to get home to get his filthy owl!" And without a backward glance, she too, swept from the room.
“Well, that went well,” said Dr. Lorrie, smiling. “Don't you worry, Harry. If I have to, I'll go to your house myself and get your owl. Surely they'll at least allow that. Now, before we talk recovery times and methods, let me go talk with your relatives once more and see if we can't make that process much easier on you. Please do not move around in bed or attempt to get up. You've just had major surgery and your insides are still tender and swollen. Tap this button here if your pain gets to be too much. It will deliver more pain reliever into your system.” She favored Harry with another brilliant smile before floating gracefully out of the room.
Sirius would absolutely love her, Harry thought before he once again fell into a deep, medication induced sleep.
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Harry woke again a few hours later. Dr. Lorrie had just returned. She'd taken the liberty of sending a note to Professor Dumbledore after Harry's aunt had “graciously” given her the key to their home to retrieve Hedwig. Actually, Harry's aunt had been slightly less than gracious about it. No surprise there. When had she ever been gracious about anything concerning Harry? And now that she blamed him for what happened, he was pretty sure he'd be kicked out for good.
It would take Hedwig a few hours to fly to Hogwarts, but once there, Dr. Lorrie hoped a representative from the school would arrive or send instructions.
In the meantime, she had news about Dudley. Dudley had injured his spine, but his surgery had gone well. In time, he would walk again. Weight loss would help, so they were setting him a diet plan. The goal was to have him rehab during the summer and be back to his boarding school by the start of term. The goal was the same for Harry, but as his healing could be helped along by magical means, Dr. Lorrie believed he'd be up and around much more quickly than his cousin would. Her mother had told her about the wonderful things magical healers could do.
"Would you like to share a room with Dudley?" Dr. Lorrie asked.
She didn't seem surprised when the answer was “No”. Apparently, the Dursleys had been pretty transparent about their feelings for Harry. Certainly her trek through the Dursleys’ home would have been an eye-opening experience.
After talking together for a while about the differences between the Wizarding World and the Muggle World, Harry drifted off once more and Kagan Lorrie tucked him in before heading off to her next patient. The medication kept Harry's pain at bay but it sure made him tired.
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In what seemed like mere moments later, Harry was jarred awake as Uncle Vernon stormed into his room.
“Do you know what you've done!” At first, the groggy young man thought he was in the grip of a nightmare; but no, Uncle Vernon really was approaching Harry's hospital bed with venom in his eyes and danger in his voice. His uncle’s wide face was twisted in rage, and had turned a curious reddish-purple that might have been amusing to see under other circumstances but to someone unable to get out of his way, was pretty terrifying. Oh, it was a nightmare, alright, but he wasn't asleep any longer and Uncle Vernon was more furious than Harry had ever seen him.
The large man grabbed Harry by the shoulders and began to shake him forcefully, screaming about Dudley and how Harry had hurt their dear son who would now be forced to suffer all summer before he could even hope to walk again.
And it hurt. Oh, it hurt so badly! He felt as if he were being torn apart, shake by shake.
Then there was another roar as a familiar voice yelled “Unhand him!” Before Harry could figure out what was going on, Professor Lupin was tearing Uncle Vernon off Harry. His uncle was then thrown across the room as if the immense Muggle weighed nothing at all.
The normally gentle former professor and friend was a welcome sight. Hedwig had come through in the nick of time. Lupin put his hands on the bed-rail, gripping it tightly, and looked down at Harry with a pale, worried expression.
“Harry?” Lupin whispered, as if fearful that Harry would not be able to answer. The teen could only nod shakily. The usually well composed man must not have liked what he saw because he immediately ran to the door and called for a doctor.
Moments later Dr. Lorrie rushed in, checked Harry over, and spoke in rapid, hushed tones with Professor Lupin. Harry tried to focus on their conversation, to understand what they were saying, but his body blazed with pain, and his mind had no space left for anything else.
Together Lupin and Dr. Lorrie secured Harry to his bed with the restraint straps that hung from the sides.
So much pain.
Within moments Harry was falling, falling, falling through a whirlpool of lights and color. His bed landed somewhat less than softly in the hospital wing at Hogwarts. Pain again streaked through Harry's insides as they landed, and he could see Dr. Lorrie gripping the bed-rail and Professor Lupin running off, shouting for Madam Pomfrey. Then Harry mercifully blacked out.
Story Notes:
Hello Friends. Tabbybri and I (daughter and mother), began writing this story some time ago with all sorts of good intentions. Trouble is, we bit off more than the story could chew. Over the months since we last updated we’ve discussed it often, wanting to put up the next chapter ASAP. But we couldn’t manage to fit all the different growing plot lines into the story in a coherent way. It’s been obvious for a while now that we needed to change some of the major elements of the story. Tonight, we bit the bullet and began an extensive rewrite. The basic elements will remain the same, but the side stories will be changed in order to help us focus on what’s important. We hope you like the new and improved version and we respectfully request (beg) that you review to let us know if we’re on the right track. Thank you for your understanding.
The Accident