I Don't Want to be a Hero - Ch. 6

Visitors - A Week Later - 29 Sept. 1991

"Good morning, Harry," Harry glanced up from his breakfast to watch as the aged wizard that was the Headmaster of Hogwarts stroll into the Infirmary like visiting royalty. Professor Snape had visited him, but as forbidding as that black-clad wizard could look he at least seemed like a genuine and honest man to Harry.

"Good morning, sir," Harry replied quietly, and politely. He watched as the older man appeared to be scanning all his get-well cards, and gifts of sweets. He had the irrational bloom in his chest that silently warned the old man not to take what was his. It was the instinct of the lowest animal to protect the smallest scrap of food it was thrown when the other animals ate the better food. Harry could not stop the feeling inside him, and so his gaze glittered in warning as he watched the old man like a hawk.

The Headmaster saw the shift of wariness to outright hostility in the child's eyes. He de-fused it by sitting down in the visitor's chair by Harry’s bed, on the other side away from the side-table that held all of the gifts. This caused Harry to look away from those little things, and to concentrate solely on the Headmaster.

"Madame Pomfrey tells me that you are recovering quite quickly. She might even release you today so that you can return to Gryffindor, and your classes. I understand Miss Granger has been doing an adequate job in bringing you up to date?"

Harry nodded. "Hermione has lots of notes. Professor Snape's taught me a few spells."

The Headmaster nodded in approval. The truth was he did not understand this seemingly sudden, and aggressive desire to protect the boy he had noted from Severus since rescuing Harry. It was a marked contrast to how often, before the child had even come to Hogwarts, that Severus had derided the child, and spoke hatefully of James Potter.

"Harry, why did you run from us? Was this world so unsettling to you?" asked Dumbledore benignly.

Harry said nothing. He knew the Headmaster would not understand so he was not going to waste time explaining himself.

Dumbledore could tell he had lost any trust he might once have had with Harry. Allowing the boy to stare at him the Headmaster leaned over to pick up a book Harry had buried his nose in since Professor Snape had given it to him. Harry tried to snatch the book back but the Headmaster held it perfectly out of reach.

"Thin book..." the Headmaster mused as he studied the book. "Important one, though. The Rise & Fall of He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named."

"Voldy," muttered Harry. "Professor Snape doesn't like his real name and saying all that... He-Who-Whatever is stupid. I call him Voldy."

Dumbledore nodded approvingly. "Mmm. A nickname that does not show the respect most might afford him, yet saves your tongue the annoyance of the fear that even shows in our newspapers and books." The Headmaster held up the thin volume. "There is much written about the heroes of that first war, Harry. Your parents, Lily and James, for one."

Harry glowered. He had formed an opinion of the witch and wizard that had given birth to him at a dangerous time, then left him; it was not a popular opinion.

"Ahh," smiled Dumbledore as if discerning the child's thoughts. "They were heroes, though, Harry. Foolish, perhaps, in their love for each other, and you, but they were heroes. Three times they defied Voldemort and sabotaged plans he had made, and kept him from harming many Muggles. Regardless of how you may think of Lily and James, they are your parents..."

"Were," Harry corrected sharply.

"They are, Harry. And, you have a responsibility to their memory, to their heroism, to uphold what they began." Dumbledore stood, and to Harry's utter annoyance, the old man patted him on the head like one might do to a dog.

The Headmaster left, quicker than he arrived in order to detain any protest Harry might bring up. As it was, Harry assumed the Headmaster did not hear as he muttered darkly, "I'm not fighting your war for you, sir."

That afternoon Harry was visited by Ron, and his new friend, Hermione Granger. He was relating the visit of the Headmaster to his friends. Ron was entirely sympathetic but Hermione was being altruistic, and noble; like a Gryffindor.

"Dumbledore wasn't being shifty, Harry, he was just telling you the truth. Your parents are heroes," maintained Hermione.

Harry huffed, and rolled his eyes. "Look Hermione. I never said Lily and James weren't heroes. I read about them, okay? They did lots of good but then they had to get selfish and have me right in the middle of a war where they were number one targets. They got killed and left me with the Dursleys." Harry grimaced. He'd never hinted at much about his present situation with his relatives but Professor Snape had insisted that his friends though annoying were trustworthy. Still, Harry was stingy with information about himself that he parted with; and he had yet to straight out and tell anyone about the Dursleys and his life with them.

Ron clarified what Harry was not saying clearly, "The Headmaster wants Harry to kill a dead guy, Hermione. He isn't going to."

Hermione sighed at both boys and buried her nose back in her book. Ron gave Harry a chocolate frog. Both boys munched on the chocolate in silence. Harry voiced his frustration through bites, "I just wish people didn't think I was some hero."

"We' you ah a he'wo," stated Ron after a large bite of chocolate frog. Hermione glared at Ron over the edge of her book for his rudeness in speaking with his mouth full. He shrugged, and smiled showing teeth that were flecked with chocolate. Ron swallowed, then repeated clearer, "But you are a hero."

Harry interrupted. "I know I am, Ron, but why? What'd I do?"

"Killed He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named," replied Ron matter-of-factly.

Harry's lips thinned, "Ron, Dumbledore says he's coming back, and I have to fight him. So, he wants me to kill a dead guy."

Ron's eyes widened, "He's coming back?"

Harry nodded, "Yeah. So, even though it's really ridiculous to think I, as a baby, killed the strongest, most dangerous wizard in the world, I have to do it a second time because he's coming back."

"Bit silly, that," muttered Ron. "Course, when I think about it, it's all a bit daft you being a baby and with no magic, yet. I think. Did you have magic then, Harry?"

Harry shrugged. "I didn't know I had any until Hagrid told me I was a wizard."

"Yeah but you said yesterday that you once flew up to a roof to escape your cousin," reminded Ron.

"I didn't fly, Ron. I was in the street, then just on the roof like..." he waved his hands, "... like poof! There I was. And, I didn't even think of magic. I was just trying to get away from Dudders and his friends who were going to beat me up."

"Well but maybe you did have magic, and you killed him," Ron put forth.

Harry had begun to give up the conversation at that point. "And the dead guy is coming back to kill me cause I killed him. Right."

Hermione Granger, whom Ron had made friends with while Harry had been gone those three weeks, came to visit Harry daily. She did her best to catch him up on classes which generally involved a lot of notes. As Ron and Harry talked she was on the other side reading.

Hermione Granger was a short, bushy-haired girl with muddy-brown eyes, slightly bucked teeth, and always carried a book with her. Ron had told him earlier that she had cracked her head in Defence Against the Dark Arts class but that she was all better. The students had been told by the Headmaster that Penelope Greenwater was at St. Mungo’s. No one but the Headmaster and Madame Pomfrey knew that she was dead.

"Voldemort's not really dead," Hermione said almost apologetically to Harry. He looked towards her to see what she had to add to the conversation.

"So what is he?" asked Harry giving Ron a glare for wincing at Voldy's name. "What happened to him? Did I... poof him?"

"Poof him?" Hermione asked faintly. She then shook her head which made her hair spring all around her. "No, Harry. The Department of Mysteries concluded that it was your mother who hurt Voldemort using 'Mother's Magic'. It protected you by ricocheting the spell he sent at her back at him."

"And, that killed him," said Harry a bit unsure.

"It destroyed his body, or most of it." Hermione opened a large, formidable book that appeared all official with gold leaf, gold stamped binding, and big letters on the cover that spelled out, The Unspeakable Conclusion of He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named's Death. "Listen..." She began to read:

Mother's Magic is in all women who have given birth. The magic varies but if the child is being hurt or is in danger that Magic increases. Normally it will react by increasing the witch's own naturally occurring magic.  

In the case of He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named in Godric's Hollow in 1981, 31 October the residual signature of an unprecedented amount of Mother's Magic was left behind. This committee of the Department of Ministry, the Unspeakable Researchers of Magical Phenomena concluded that it was the Mother's Magic of Lily Evans-Potter who feared for the life of her son. It was her Mother's Magic that imbued the helpless Harry Potter with enough magical support to protect himself. The resulting fallout of the great expenditure damaged the body of He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named, and continued by destroying most of Potter dwelling.

Notation: Further analysis could not be completed upon the body of He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named since the body was stolen hours after its recovery.

Notation: Subject Harry Potter was not available for analysis but it is believed by this committee that the backlash of the magical protection that killed He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named left a scar on the boy’s forehead in the form of the protective rune, Sowelu.

Hermione closed the book. With her pert little nose up in the air, she spoke summarily, "So you see, Harry. It wasn't you that destroyed Voldemort but your mother's own protective magic."

Ron pushed down on Hermione's nose. "Don't do that, 'Mione. You look snotty."

Hermione glared at Ron, brushed the tip of her nose, and then glared at Harry for good measure.

Harry shrugged, and then did so again because he could. "Sounds good, Hermione but I think you're the only one who read that. Everybody else thinks I killed him, and that I'm a hero."

"You were a baby then, Mr. Potter, and you are right that it is foolish for others to believe in a story cocked-up by the Daily Prophet."

"Hello, Professor Snape," Hermione greeted politely. She and the others never heard Snape as he slipped into the Infirmary.

The teacher nodded to the student, "Miss Granger. Have your headaches finally gone?" he inquired solicitously.

Hermione smiled. "None at all today."

Ron, who was still suspicious of Snape, was only polite because both his friends demanded it. "Hi, Professor. Do you know if Harry's getting out today?"

"As a matter of fact, Mr. Weasley, Mr. Potter is to leave with me. That means you, and Miss Granger either need to get a bit of lunch before the time is over, or prepare to your next class."

Knowing they were being dismissed, Hermione slipped from her chair, kissed Harry's cheek, and grabbed Ron by the hand. He glanced back at his friend, "Later, Harry?"

Harry smiled lightly, and nodded. "Yeah, Ron. I'll see you. Bye, Hermione." He then watched, protectively, as his two friends left.

"Dumbledore was here," Harry said in a monotone. "I think he wants me to fight his war, and to kill Voldy." Harry settled a pleading gaze upon the Potions Master; hoping the man would tell him he was wrong.

"Professor Dumbledore does not expect you to fight the entire war by yourself, Mr. Potter. However, he does expect you to lead it, and he does expect you to slay the Dark Lord."

"I'm not going to," said Harry stubbornly. "Besides, Voldy's dead already."

"Technically it is the Dark Lord's body that is dead, Mr. Potter. After all I was present at the Dissolution. The Dark Lord's spirit was merely separated from his body, and thus we await the return of his spirit to finish what he began."

Harry glared glumly at his toes covered by his hospital bed blanket. Snape tossed a set of folded clothing upon the bed. "I have explained all of this before, Mr. Potter, so stop looking like I hexed your dearest friend. The Dark Lord will return, but you will NOT be fighting or killing him in honour of parents you never knew. Now, get dressed."

Harry grabbed the clothing. "What are we going to be doing, sir?"

"I have decided to enlist your assistance in brewing the potion you will need for Cruciatus after-effects," stated Snape. "Get dressed, and use the loo if you need to."

Harry was so very glad to finally get out of the Infirmary. He grabbed his clothes, threw off the bedcovers, and practically ran to the Infirmary loo, and slammed the door behind him.

"Your exuberance is to be expected, Mr. Potter, but there is no need to act like an undisciplined creature. No running! And, no slamming of doors!" ordered Snape acerbically.

"Yes, sir! Sorry!" yelled Harry from the loo.