Chapter Twenty- Five
Ron and Hermione remained in the troll's chamber while Professor Dumbledore led Professors McGonagall and Snape down through the dark doorway into the gloomy passageway. Ron nearly collapsed from shock when he spotted Snape coming through the door from the destruction of the chessboard. Dumbledore ordered them to stay in the room while they went to retrieve Harry. That had been about five minutes ago and now Hermione was growing almost hysterical with anxiety.
She was wringing her hands and biting her nails while pacing fretfully, utterly unaware of the throbbing in her head. Ron had tried to calm her but to no avail. After a tense silence they heard the agitated sound of footsteps. Hermione stopped and stood still looking at the entrance to the passageway her eyes full of worry.
Ron, who had been sitting on the dusty cold floor with his legs crossed, jumped up immediately. Snape stepped out first carrying Harry's lifeless body, Dumbledore followed with his arm around McGonagall's shoulder, comforting her.
Hermione gasped, her worst fears seemingly coming true, and ran to Professor Snape. "Is he…d…dead?" she asked shakily. "No but we must get him to the Hospital Wing soon if he is to live,' replied Snape in a voice quite unlike his own. It wasn't snappish or sarcastic as it usually was, if anything it was concerned. Just then Harry gave a slight groan and Snape continued through the underground maze. All the protections had been dismantled so as to make their exit quicker. Professor McGonagall approached Hermione and then gave her a slight hug which would have startled Hermione if she wasn't so concerned about Harry. Silently the solemn company followed Snape.
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Darkness surrounded him. All sense of direction left him and he wondered blindly through the black night for some evidence or chance of life. He heard no sound, not a whisper. Panic seemed to be enclosing him and he knew he had to escape or he would be lost forever. His pace quickened but he couldn't hear the noise of his footfalls or the rapid beating of his heart. Fear stabbed at him as he wondered whether it was already over. And then through the black vault he spotted a pale gray coming slowly towards him. It seemed to be a billowing mist and it soon engulfed him until at last, after many hours, he awoke.
Harry soon realized he was actually in a dark room but after a few seconds he could make out the arched and decorated roof. His head was throbbing and he felt extremely drowsy. He guessed rightly that he was currently in the confines of the Hospital Wing. There were no lights lit or any other sign of life in the ward from what he could see through his blurred vision, somebody had removed his glasses.
He soon recognized how dry and tight his throat felt. Moving his head slightly he saw a water jug on a white bedside cabinet. He lifted his arm and cautiously reached across. The delicate water jug was heavy though and obviously didn't want to be picked up. His limp hand dropped the jug and a smash was heard throughout the room. Water sprayed onto the side of his bed and seeped across the floor.
The noise of a door being unlocked and swift footsteps could be heard and Harry noticed a shadow of a woman at the end of the bed. Madam Pomfrey took in the remains of the water jug and then Harry's position; he was leaning over the side of the bed, his hand lying on the empty cabinet. Her stern face relaxed as she moved him back into the middle of the bed and then with a wave of her wand cleaned up the water. Harry was exhausted; he could barely move and didn't object as Madam Pomfrey started examining him. She checked his pulse explaining to him that it had been quite low earlier. She then checked the bandage that was wrapped around his chest. It was only then that Harry even noticed the slight pain in his side. He suddenly remembered everything of what had occurred two nights ago. The pain in his side had significantly lessened than when he was first wounded.
There was a dried blood stain on the cotton bandage and Harry wondered when it had stopped bleeding. Madam Pomfrey was now positioning his pillows and heaving him into a sitting position. `Professor Dumbledore wished to speak to you as soon as you awoke," she said disapprovingly. "Even if it is midnight." She poured Harry a glass of clear water and he slowly lifted it to his lips. It seemed to refresh him slightly as he felt the dryness of his throat recede and feel unblocked. "Thank you,' he croaked weakly.
Madam Pomfrey smiled sympathetically, fixing the surgically white sheets of his bed. "It's alright dear. It is my profession after all,' she chuckled. She then left the Hospital Wing which was now dimly lit by floating candles which she had lit on her way in.
Harry eased back into his soft pillows attempting to alleviate the pain dancing within his head. He could just make out the pale white stars sparkling through the black canvas of space. His mind kept drifting to Voldemort and Quirrell. Surely Quirrell was dead. But how? Harry had killed him by touching him with own bare skin. Harry hadn't come across anything that mentioned that sort of magic if that is what it was. He was trying to piece together his thoughts when he heard the creak of the double doors at the end of the Wing opening. He heard the sound of footsteps and the tall shadow of Dumbledore was cast across the end of his bed.
"Well Harry. From what I've heard from Ms. Granger, you have been quite busy this year," the Headmaster said, smiling benignly. "Is she okay?" said Harry, suddenly anxious. "Ms. Granger is quite fine. She has completely recovered from her knock on the head. Though, she is very concerned about you."
Harry grinned sheepishly. "I never meant to cause harm. And I didn't want to know all about your internal affairs. It's just some of them had consequences that would affect us all. Especially the one concerning the Philosopher's Stone. Did you know about Voldemort's interest in it?"
"Yes indeed. I suspected that bringing the Philosopher's Stone to light once again might bring the remaining life of Voldemort back in search of his full life. If you could name such an existence a life," said Dumbledore thoughtfully, handing Harry his wire rimmed glasses from the side of his cabinet.
"If you deduced that it was Voldemort then why did you leave the castle? Surely you could have seen through his act," asked Harry confused. Dumbledore seemed to stop for a few minutes, deep in thought. Harry wondered whether he was contemplating continuing talking. Then he spoke, somewhat hesitantly.
"You're quite right, Harry. The summons from the Ministry was indeed a distraction. Did I suspect an attempt while I was away? Of course," he said simply.
Harry's mind seemed to have jumped out the window. Then he spoke, astonishment in his voice. "You knew….but….did you want me to face him?" Harry asked amazed at the sudden thought. A heavy silence fell on the room. Dumbledore was staring at the end of Harry's bed. Harry tried to put the puzzle together himself. "There's more to this than anyone could probably guess."
Dumbledore raised his eyes and looked at Harry with sorrowful eyes. The twinkle that often occupied his gaze had left. "There is a connection between yourself and Lord Voldemort. One which I cannot tell you fully about for there is much I do not know. You will encounter him again in the future, I am sure of it. You are a powerful wizard already Harry. I trusted you could face Voldemort. I think I felt deep down that you had to. But I think I wished it to be under different circumstances."
Even though Harry had suspected something like this, it didn't make him feel any less safe. Maybe it was the fact that he was lying uselessly in a hospital bed but all of a sudden he felt quite vulnerable. For a long time neither said anything. Wisps of cloud had started to veil the stars, the grounds darkened and everything seemed still. Then at last Harry asked something that had been playing on his mind. "Voldemort spoke of the night my parents died. He said my mother needn't have died. That she could have lived had she not been protecting me. He was there for me and she died because of me!" Harry said loudly, as if hoping that the idea was impossible. He seemed to be stating it, wishing somebody would counter him by telling him that it was ridiculous. He was now sitting up, his head buried in his hands, ignoring the stabbing pain in his side and the pain in his head telling him to lie back down.
"Your mother did not die because of you. She died protecting her son, as any mother would have done," said Dumbledore flatly as if settling the matter. "Voldemort underestimates the power of love. And it was for that reason that you survived two nights ago. The love which she possessed for you gave you a protection against Voldemort, hence the reason why Professor Quirrell couldn't bear to touch you."
"But why? Why did he come after me?" Harry asked.
Dumbledore sighed deeply. "I am afraid I have told you enough for now concerning Lord Voldemort."
"NO," said Harry shaking his head and smiling disbelievingly. "You haven't told me enough. Not nearly enough. There is a reason why he came after me. A reason why my parents were murdered and I want to know it." He knew he might be pushing it but he wouldn't be able to go through another day without knowing the truth. Dumbledore seemed to be taken aback. Harry thought he looked older through the darkness.
And then he told Harry everything about the prophecy that was made concerning him and Voldemort. Harry noticed that he left out some of the names of people that were involved. He merely said that a prophecy was told of someone who could stand against Lord Voldemort and that somehow Voldemort discovered its existence. Acting on the information he had, Voldemort hunted down Harry but he hadn't heard the full details of the prophecy, which therefore was his downfall or temporary downfall.
Harry lay back down into the imprint his body had created against the pillows. Dumbledore stood silently at the end of the bed, his head hung in defeat. "I never meant to tell you while you were so young. Then again, you have shown me more maturity than I have seen from grown men," he said quietly looking up.
Harry felt slightly ashamed from his outburst earlier but he was still content that he now knew the truth. "You did the right thing. Telling me I mean. Thank you."
Dumbledore made his way to the head of the bed and rested his hand on Harry's shoulder. "I wanted to keep all this hardship from you. To protect you against this destiny that was given to you before you were even born. Your parents would have been extremely proud of you in the way you stood up to Voldemort's face of evil. I want you to know that even though this burden was assigned to you, you will not stand alone. I will aid you any way possible. As for Voldemort, we know not when he will truly return. He has been gravely set back by your determination to keep the Stone safe."
Harry's thoughts returned to the Philosopher's Stone. "What happened to it?"
Dumbledore perched himself on the edge of Harry's bed. "The Stone will now be destroyed. Nicholas, who, I will assume you already know about, has agreed that it is too dangerous to exist, principally in the wrong hands."
"How much time will he have after the Stone is destroyed?" Harry posed. "Enough time to set his affairs in order. He is probably growing terse with life. Over six hundred years of living must be quite exhausting. I have often found such things as immortality unnatural," Dumbledore explained.
Harry mind seemed to be split in two. He was thinking of what Dumbledore had just said while also thinking of the prophecy. He didn't know how to feel. At once he was terrified of what his future held but also he found himself slowly accepting it. If Voldemort did indeed return, would Harry have not killed him anyway? He had murdered his parents and stripped him of any chance of a normal life. It would always be this way. And Harry was not about to turn away from the path that had been set before him.
Harry sighed and closed his eyes. A sudden wave of tiredness that he had been holding back seemed to have overtaken him. But he still had more questions. "Did you suspect Quirrell?"
Dumbledore who had been staring deeply into Harry's water jug, lifted his eyes to see Harry with his own eyes shut, seemingly asleep. "Not until the last days. His behavior became quite suspicious; I seem to remember him missing two of his classes. Professor Snape was the one who first approached me about him. He actually told me he had been watching him for some amount of time and had threatened him to stop or he would take action."
"He saved my life. Professor Snape. Yet Quirrell said that he hated me because of my father. He told me they hated each other while at school,' said Harry bewildered. "They did indeed. But then your father did something that Professor Snape could never forgive, something which he has lived under for many years. He saved his life," said Dumbledore, seemingly bemused.
Harry opened his eyes slowly. "So he felt compelled to save mine."
"Indeed. I think Professor Snape feels that the debt is repaid. He can return to hating your father's memory in peace." Harry chuckled lightly at Dumbledore's choice of words. His eyes had closed again unwittingly. He now seemed to be drifting between the worlds of consciousness and sleep. "How did I get the Stone?" he asked groggily. "Well that was one of my more brilliant strokes. You see, only one who wishes to find the Stone and use if for good, is capable of getting it. Quirrell, who wanted to get it for his own greed and ambition, would never have been able to attain the Stone."
"That is quite inspiring," said Harry light-heartedly. Dumbledore noticed how drowsy his voice had become. After a few minutes of silence, Dumbledore heard the slow breathing of Harry, signaling that he had fallen asleep. Dumbledore reached forward and removed Harry's glasses carefully, placing them on the bedside cabinet. He then rested a hand on Harry's head for a moment and whispered "Goodnight Harry," then left leaving the Hospital Wing in darkness.
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When Harry awoke much later he found dust swirling in the shafts of bright sunlight that streamed through the windows of the Hospital Wing. His headache had diminished slightly and as he put his glasses on he realised he could move much easier. He then plopped back down onto his pillow. Everything that had happened in the past week was flashing through his mind, snippets and pieces coming together to reveal the truth. His thoughts came to land on what he had discovered last night. He couldn't change his fate nor could he ignore it. But then again, given the choice he would still stick with it. As Dumbledore said, the task was appointed to him and him alone. When Voldemort moved out into the open again, the wizarding world would probably rise against him, but in the end it would be Harry who would have to end it.
He tried not to think of the possibility of death for himself. Voldemort was extremely powerful and when he returned it would only be a matter of time before he resumed his terror. He would have to train and prepare until that time when he met Voldemort again. That would be the first thing he would ask Dumbledore.
Suddenly the double doors at the end of the gleaming hallway opened and Harry saw Hermione running towards him. He smiled at the look of worry on her face. When she neared the bed she grabbed his hand and squeezed it then flung herself at him in a bear hug. "I was so worried,' she sobbed.
Harry, who felt completely winded and was desperately trying to ignore the pain in his side, wrapped his arms around her, in an attempt to comfort her. She was now crying openly into his shoulder. He rubbed her back softly whispering "Shhh…hey, I'm alright. It's okay." She pulled away from his shoulder and Harry looked into her tear-streaked face and knew that for now he couldn't tell her what he had discovered about himself, not yet anyway. Hermione grinned slightly and let out a nervous laugh "You're soaking now…I'm sorry,' she said, indicating his shoulder.
He shifted slightly giving her room to sit at the side of his bed. They talked for many hours about what had happened when they had jumped through the trapdoor. Harry told her everything that had happened when he had faced Quirrell. Hermione gasped hearing what Quirrell had done to Harry and also when he told her about the Philosophers Stone dropping into his pocket. Hermione then proceeded to tell Harry everything that had happened when he left her and Ron in the troll's chamber. They talked well until afternoon and the light from the sun had darkened slightly into an orange tinge that spread across the room. They found themselves in a long deep silence, one which neither of them found that they wanted to break.
Then the double doors were thrown open again and Madam Pomfrey strode towards Harry's bed. `Ms. Granger, I'm afraid you must leave. Mr. Potter needs to take some potions and then he needs some rest," she said hurriedly. Hermione jumped off the bed, gave Harry's hand one more squeeze, and then left the Hospital Wing, looking a lot more happier than she had when she entered.
Madam Pomfrey caught Harry gazing disappointedly at the door. "Don't worry. You should get out of here before Monday. That's two day away," she explained. Harry nodded and then took the potions which she handed him, wondering whether he would ever feel the same when he left the confines of the Hospital Wing.
End Chapter
Only one more chapter to go. Hope you liked this one. Please tell me if you did or didn't.
Sorry about delay, I couldn't make my mind up to tell Harry about the prophecy or not. I know I didn't go through the whole prophecy in this chapter, but I think we all ready know about it and it would have just been stating the obvious.
I was thinking of calling the next one Harry Potter and the Riddle Chamber.
Thanks for reading.
Take care,
Radagast
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