Hi, it's me again. I don't really have much time to leave a comment, as I'm only allowed on this computer for something like 15 minutes, so I'll let you know, I wasn't given much time to proofread. Point out any mistakes you might see, and I'll fix them in a second sitting.
And for those of you that know me: cringe. There is a newspaper article ahead. Bwahahaha. Yes, I still suck something terrible at writing in that format.
And sorry if this is somewhat boring. It's a transition chapter, and the title doesn't really mean anything, I just didn't know what to name the chapter (sheepish grin) ^_^.
Dreamscape
Chapter 4: "No more nonsense"
"Well, Miss Granger, it appears, based on Madame Pomfrey's reports and your log, that Mr Potter's poisoning could not have been started very long ago," Healer Jenkins concluded, rubbing her face wearily.
"But there has to be more!" Hermione exclaimed. "Don't you have any way of finding out what's in his system?"
"And how is it you suggest we do that?" Jenkins asked, slightly frazzled and anxious, "I remind you that they placed him in Stasis. His magic's flow has been stopped at a moment in time, I cannot examine him. All we know is that it's some type of love potion…possibly lust as well. Which one has yet to be determined."
"Didn't you take any samples first?" Hermione was almost outraged.
"Of course we did!" the Healer replied, nearly insulted. "But do you have any idea how unbalanced his magic is? Being able to get a clear reading of it could take months. This could go faster if we knew precisely who did this, and, though it is clear as day to you and I," Hermione's eyes shot to the Healer, surprised, "Yes, Miss Granger, I can put two and two together, and I've come to the same conclusion, and I understand that we cannot ask anyone to come forth and admit to nearly poisoning to death the Boy-Who-Lived. It is not up to the Healers to persecute culprits. If Mr Potter so wishes, it will be up to him once he is released from his current state," Healer Jenkins assured her. "But I must admit, I wish we could be told exactly what had been inflicted on him."
Hermione nodded, knowing that Healers could press charges only in the eventuality that the patient could not-and, even though Harry was in Stasis, it was with the promise of an eventual recovery, so it really was out of Healers' legal premises.
She angrily brushing back some hair from her face. There had to be something more, she would not give up like that. How could Harry's magic be that unbalanced? It shouldn't be more than a love potion gone wrong-terribly wrong-but that ought to be easy enough to detect. There had to be more. As much as she wanted to think that Ginny was a better person than what she was appearing to be at the moment, Hermione was seriously beginning to doubt that Harry's infatuation for her had started naturally. The more she thought about it, and Harry's behaviour at the time, the more she was convinced it had been magical. The obvious first hypothesis would have been that she'd gotten a potion from Weasley's Wizard Wheezes and begun to use it somewhere in the beginning of sixth year, but it couldn't have been any of Fred and George's love potions. Those were registered, and would have therefore been detected right away by Madame Pomfrey during one of Harry's all-too-frequent visits to the Hospital Wings. Besides, Weasley potions were also very watered down, and worked in a way that they left the body of the intended person after a few short days without a trace.
Maybe whatever had begun back in their sixth year had somehow imprinted itself a little too strongly onto Harry...but potions were like real poisons, they would eventually be purged from the body by natural means. And, in any case, Harry could not have been potioned into liking Ginny back in sixth year. There was definitely something more that they were overlooking.
And what about Harry's vision where his parents had come to him? It was in no way a premonition, or a vision of the future, as Harry had clearly recognized the date inscribed on the tombstone as one that had already come to pass, and Hermione really did not put any stock in those. But it was in no way a simple dream either. A hallucination? No. Harry's recollection of it was much too calm, he was in control during the dream, though he hadn't been able to interfere, and, well, Hermione just felt that it was more than a simple hallucination. It must have been Harry's influence, but she was not going to say her instinct was wrong.
How come the dream had started right at the time in which Harry had been affected by this sudden turn? Could Lily's words have started a reaction in Harry? No, she only showed him a possible outcome, and that couldn't have turned into a physical reaction…unless…
"Of course!" She exclaimed in excitement. "I can't believe I didn't see it before!"
"See what, Miss Granger?" Healer Jenkins asked, looking rather sceptical.
"Doesn't it strike you as strange that Harry's body refused the potion so strongly, even though it might not have been all that harmful?" she asked, the cogs in her mind turning and working faster than ever.
"Yes, of course," she answered readily, looking as though she'd been thinking of it all along herself, "even the use of multiple potions at the same time doesn't seem to warrant such strong reactions if the initial diagnosis of possible potions is accurate."
"Healer Jenkins, are you aware Harry's very easily capable of overthrowing an Imperious curse?"
The older woman blinked owlishly for a couple of seconds. "No, I did not know," she said, surprised, "but I don't quite follow how that has anything to do with this."
"Harry always said it was almost natural to overthrow that curse because, whenever someone tried to order him into doing something with it, his own mind-and magic-answered back with a `why should I?'," Hermione explained.
"Yes, and?" obviously, the Healer had no idea what the girl was getting at, even if she'd appeared exceedingly clever from the beginning.
"Well," Hermione began, trying to find the right way of warding her quarry, "what if Harry's magic realised there was something wrong? What if he realised he was forced into thinking and feeling something that wasn't really there to begin with? What if…" and here she took a deep breath, her voice coming out whispered, her conjecture already a reality in her mind. "What if his magic tried to fight back?"
The older witch opened her mouth, her breath already drawn in for a reply which died on her lips right away as it looked like she'd answered her own question before even issuing it. "Well…" she considered, a hand moving to her mouth so she could start chewing on a nail in thought, again, she looked to Hermione to ask something, but found her own mind supplying the answer before the question was brought forth. She did this a couple more times, and Hermione found herself smiling. It looked like her guess wasn't as unbelievable as she might have thought if the Healer hadn't turned it down right away.
"So, you're telling me that it's his own magic that interacted wrongly with the potions?" The Healer asked again, though now she had an uncertain tone. "I'm sure Mr Potter is a very powerful wizard, but I've never heard of anyone able to fight off the effect of a potion with the unintentional use of his own magic. It is theoretically possible, but I don't think even that could have caused such a strong reaction, no matter the amount of power he is possession of."
"Healer Jenkins, you misunderstand me," Hermione smiled. "I think the rejection on his magic's part of the mind altering agents of the potions might have been the catalyst to this."
With a raised eyebrow, the woman's attention had been captured by Hermione. "Tell me, Miss Granger, when did Mr Potter begin to show signs of change in the recent past?" she ordered, sitting at the edge of her seat.
"I'd initially thought the reaction to these potions had started with his symptoms-four days ago, to be precise-but I must say, I underestimated things. If I have to be honest, they began a couple of weeks ago," Hermione began. "I noticed that Harry seemed a little less…enamoured than he had been before. He'd never been a mindless puppet, but he would go along with almost anything she said after a short argument," she explained. She felt somewhat relieved that she could speak freely enough with the Healer, if not just to avoid the circles in the conversation required to keep Ginny's name absolutely clean, at least for her peace of mind-to be able to take it off her chest. "While instead, the last couple of weeks he was a little less accepting of what she did and what she said, and, five days ago, they had their strongest argument to date. It wasn't a row of any kind, but it did look like it placed their relationship between a rock and a hard place."
"What you're trying to tell me is that you think he'd been rejecting the potions' effects for a while now, and it culminated after that argument where his magic was very aware there was something not quite right with the whole situation," it wasn't a question, so Hermione didn't bother answering. The Healer brought her hand to her chin to rub it in thought. "It's not implausible. It's actually quite possible that you are right, but there is still much that we are missing."
"Yes, I'd thought that too," Hermione agreed, "And I have an idea."
"Well then, please, do enlighten me," the elder witch encouraged.
"We'd begun our hypothesis on the basis that Harry's poisoning had been recent, and that the main problem was that the doses were too strong," the Healer agreed. "I think that's where we made a mistake," Jenkins gave her a surprised sceptical look. "It's true, the potions can't possibly have been started too long ago, but I think the doses were rather small. She wanted a strong hero, not a mindless puppet."
"The problem with that is that he would not have been quite so taken as most people who resort to these methods wish for," the Healer interjected.
"Precisely!" Hermione exclaimed. "Come on, what would a teenage girl do if her hero wasn't treating her like the princess she wished to be?"
The woman shrugged. "I think she'd just be frustrated. She'd either up the dosage, or switch to a different potion."
"That could be an idea," Hermione conceded. "But why change something that, in its own way, is working well? He liked her, and he was still his usual heroic self without having lost any part of his personality."
Jenkins looked lost for a moment, her eyes darting around looking for an answer, and, slowly, Hermione saw dawning behind her horrified eyes. "She tried to mix and match."
"Right," Hermione answered grimly. "That's why Harry's reaction was so out of proportion. Because he was rejecting several different potions at the same time, even if the doses were all small. His mind refused to bend that much."
The Healer nodded, looking like she was going to be sick. "They might have reacted terribly with each other as well." Hermione gave a desolate nod as Jenkins placed a hand on her knee to push herself up. "Well, at this point, I'll go speak to the team who's in charge of doing the magic reading. Tell them to work in layers," she sighed heavily. "With his magic fighting so strongly, it will take even longer than we'd initially thought to get a clear reading."
"It's too long!" Hermione exclaimed. How could they be even farther from reviving Harry after all they'd just discovered?
"Do you have a better idea?" The Healer snapped, her nerves as shot as the young woman's.
None that immediately come to mind, Hermione replied mentally, she shrugged, though her thoughts were as active as always. There had to be a way to analyse Harry, one that could go around his magic's instinctive fighting reaction. And, as though someone had hit a switch to give light, the idea hit her. "His blood…" she whispered, awed that she'd never even thought of something so elemental before.
"What?" Jenkins asked, her patience already too thin.
"His blood!" Hermione insisted, though the Healer obviously had no idea where she was going. "In the Muggle world, when Doctors-Muggle Healers-need to find out what is ailing someone they examine the blood. Substances remain in the bloodstream for some time before being purged by natural means, and potions shouldn't dissolve before their effects run out, so Harry's blood should still be thick with the potions!"
Dawning once again seemed to appear behind Jenkins' eyes. "We wouldn't have to worry about interfering with his magic…we could act directly on him now," she whispered, as though she was speaking the realisations that came to her without meaning to share them with Hermione. "Stasis stops his magic, but his body still functions, meaning the blood continues to flow…"
"We could purge his blood while he's still in Stasis," Hermione suggested.
"It wouldn't completely rid him of it," Jenkins answered.
"But is should cleanse him enough to be able to lift the Stasis," Hermione replied.
Jenkins smiled. "I'll need to modify some of my instruments. I'll get started on it right away. Would you like to assist me?"
Hermione was surprised and flattered. "I would love to, but I have I need to check on other things first," Jenkins lifted an inquisitive eyebrow. "There's something we're missing. It's got to be the root of everything, and if I don't find out what it is, this is never going to end. If you don't mind, I will join you once I've gotten to the bottom of this. It shouldn't take long if I'm right."
Healer Jenkins looked at her, giving her a sad look of understanding, and nodded. "Do what you must," she left, leaving Hermione feeling tired and alone. With a heavy sigh, the young girl forced herself up. Hours had past since she'd first stepped into St Mungo's. She hadn't slept, or eaten, or taken a break. She wouldn't do any of the above until she'd gotten to the bottom of this. Taking a moment to collect her strength, Hermione left the room in search of Arthur Weasley.
Thankfully the Head of the Weasley House was easily found in that horrid little room they'd been assigned to the day before, sitting on Ron's side, facing his wife and daughter. It looked like a serious argument had taken place, because the women's eyes were rigged red, Ron looked like he'd been hit by a cartload of bludgers, and Arthur was staring the girls down. Molly was staring at him, alternating her looks between imploring and accusing. He wasn't giving in.
When she'd stepped through the door, they all turned to look at her, though Molly and Ginny turned away instantly. Ron and Arthur stood and approached her quickly.
"Oh, Hermione, there you are," the man welcomed her with his arms open in a fatherly hug, which she returned easily, drawing comfort from him. Merlin knew, she needed it.
"Did you figure anything out?" Ron asked quietly, his back to his mother and sister, his words a quiet whisper, though, considering Ginny's penchant for eavesdropping and his mother's interest in other people's business, it might have been useless. She nodded, but remained quiet.
Arthur caught on right away. "Why don't we step outside for a word?" and they did, the three of them, finding a dark corner of the larger waiting room theirs faced on. Hermione pulled some complex privacy charms over them, and one to check for extendable ears and the like. Not finding any, she felt safe enough to speak, though still very aware that caution was the better part of valour.
"Healer Jenkins and I figured out what the problem was, though there are still some things that I need to look at," she looked at Arthur. "I have a favour to ask of you?"
Arthur didn't hesitate at all. "Of course, anything I can help with."
"Did you ever notice Ginny with a book? Some sort of textbook, but not the kind that Hogwarts would issue," Hermione knew she sounded like she was pulling at straws, but she didn't care.
Arthur seemed to consider this. "Well, I remember she used to always carry a book with a very faded cover a few years ago. I was never able to read the title, but it was pretty heavy looking, so it was likely a text book. I saw her reading it again about a month ago," he answered.
Hermione didn't dare to hope. "Would you know where she keeps it?" If she was right, Molly would have placed loads of charms on it to keep her children away from it-including something preventing summoning charms.
"The last time I saw her with it, she was in her room. It was on her desk," he told her. "She was reading from it, and writing on scroll of parchment." He stood, and began heading for the exit.
"Dad, where are you going?" Ron asked, surprised.
"To get the book," Arthur replied with a tone to his voice that made it seem as though it should have been obvious. "It could save Harry, couldn't it?"
Hermione and Ron approached him quietly and quickly. "Yes, but I think it best if I go. I just need to look at it. If you brought it here, I'm afraid it could prove terrible for your family."
Arthur's face shadowed. He looked ashen and grief-stricken. "Yes, of I'm trying to condemn her, but I can't help but wish to protect her." course," he mumbled. "I know she did something terrible, but she is still my daughter," he looked imploringly, rubbing his face in a desperate attempt to bring colour back into his face. "I should blame her, but all I can think about is that I need to protect my little girl."
Hermione smiled. "As you should. I know you love Harry as much as Ron and I do, but no self respecting father should ever turn his back on a child," she reassured him, giving his arm a comforting squeeze.
"Why don't you hate her?" Arthur asked, looking on the verge of tears.
Hermione's expression darkened. "I can't let myself hate her. If I do, that will be all I'll be able to focus on, and I need to keep thinking about Harry. I need to keep trying to find a way to help him, or I will fall apart at the seams and wallow in hatred and desperation," she explained, her honesty and clarity being almost a sharper stab at Arthur's heart than her hatred might have been. "Once this is over, Ginny will no longer exist to me. I have lost all respect for her, and she will be as dead for me, but right now, I need to think of her as a victim of her own foolishness, or I will lose the right track."
Arthur was obviously injured by her words, but Hermione was nothing if not honest, and he could only appreciate that in a girl when his own daughter had nearly poisoned a man to try and fake his feelings for her. He nodded, his eyes shining. "May I at least accompany you?"
"Yes, please," she told him with a small smile, and turned to Ron. "Can I ask you to stay here just a little longer? I want someone I trust close to Harry."
He sighed, running a hand through him mop of red hair. "Yeah, sure, I can handle them a little longer."
And with that they separated, Ron returning to their horrid little waiting room to be alone with his mother and sister, while Arthur and Hermione headed for the Apparation Room.
Upon landing from her spin, Hermione was lucky enough to land on her bum, or she might have landed against the fireplace after being knocked into it by a stunner. Obviously, she was more tired than she'd liked to admit, but that didn't stop her from having her wand out and facing the direction from which the spell had come from in no time flat.
"Wait, George, it's us!" Arthur shouted, and Hermione saw a familiar mop of curly hair popping out from behind the couch to look at them.
"Dad! Hermione!" he exclaimed, looking as the world's weight had been lifted from his shoulders the second he saw them. "What happened? I came for dinner last night and nobody was here! Just a mess of butterbeer in the kitchen and some drops of blood on the floor. I kept waiting for someone to contact me, just like you told me, dad, but nobody came."
Hermione flinched at the reminder as she saw the few crimson spots dotting the floor. She'd remembered Harry's mouth had bled a little the night before. "We left a note," Hermione said, "it was in the middle of the table."
"Oh," Arthur mumbled, his tone guilty, "I took that with me," he pulled a ruffled piece of parchment from his pocket. "When I read it I was so worried I just crumbled it up and stuffed in here. I didn't know you were coming for dinner, George, or I would have left it for you."
"Oh, George, I'm so sorry I didn't tell you!" Hermione berated herself. "Everything happened so fast, and I was in a panic until they told us Harry was out of danger, and then I got sidetracked helping the Healer to figure out what was wrong with him so that we could take him out of Stasis."
"Harry's in Stasis!?" George shouted, worry and surprised clean in his face and voice. "What happened?!"
"Well, it's a bit of a long story actually," she began, but, before she could launch into a detailed retelling of the past hours, an owl came swooping in, carrying a thick newspaper. Hermione let out a horrified gasp as she read the cubical characters of the headline. "Oh, no!" The second the owl released the parcel, Hermione grabbed it, not even sparing the bird a glance as it turned around and left the way it came. She opened the paper, and read aloud.
"BOY-WHO-LIVED IN CRITICAL CONDITION
Has long time girlfriend of the Hero of our world been poisoning him?
By Rita Skeeter
Last night, at 5:47pm, new Healer-In-Training for St Mungo's hospital C.C., received a most startling emergency call over the Floo Network. A desperate Molly Weasley-dear woman well known to most as the only mother figure in the life of our young hero-was shouting for help. Apparently, Harry Potter had collapsed inside her kitchen, where she'd been busy making his dinner. Naturally, the answer to such a terrifying call was answered instantly, in spite of the obvious lack of trained staff available at the moment. This reporter, along with many others, was immediately on scene with hopes of giving you, dear readers, positive news of his conditions. However, we found most of the staff, uncooperative, unprepared, and uncouth-"
"Can you skip over her nonsense, and get to the part where she talks about Ginny?" Arthur requested, not really wanting to hear Rita's usual garbage.
Hermione agreed. "Yes, of course, just let me find it…oh, here!
After being deprived of the rights granted to everyone in this profession, most other journalists dispersed, but not this reporter-who went to great lengths and subterfuges to give you a story. It was not easy, but here it is. Though the staff was not about to release any statements on our hero's condition with reporters, they were more then willing to speculate with each other.
It appears that our hero has been poisoned by deadly doses of love potions. That's right, dear readers. Love potions. It must be terrible for the Boy-Who-Lived to know that some of us appreciated his heroism a little too much. Oh, but wait! He doesn't know. The poor dear has been placed under Stasis almost immediately after his emergency treatment. It looks as though his condition is quite terrible. According to voices within the medical facility, he will not be released from his comatose stage anytime soon."
"Come on, get on with it," George urged, hysterically. Obviously, he did not know what was going on, and the commotion was not easing his mind. Hermione, however, ignored him and continued reading.
"And who, might you ask, could do something so horrifying to the young man who saved us all? Well, common speculation points a finger at long time standing girlfriend of our hero, Ginny Weasley. Why would his very own girlfriend poison him with a lethal dose of love potion? It seems that Harry Potter's infatuation with young Miss Weasley might have been magic induced as well. Many of the recently graduated Hogwarts students-peers of our hero-found that his interest for the girl, started in his sixth year, was sudden and unexpected-as potion induced attractions are. Could he have slipping from her potion's hold? Could that be reason enough to up his dosage to a lethal one? This reporter believes so. However, we may only be certain of Miss Weasley's guilt the moment Mr Potter is able to press charges on her..."
Hermione stopped reading. There was no point in continuing with that nonsense. Rita Skeeter had passed judgement on Ginny Weasley. The Wizarding World would believe. Unfortunately, they would believe the truth for once and Ginny's life would be ruined. As much as their community seemed to encourage shady dealings such as love potions, being discovered using such a subterfuge resulted in social suicide. Even if Harry did not pursue her legally, she would be recognised as a criminal, a conniver, a dishonourable woman. Such a reputation could never allow her to marry a wizard, and would warrant nothing but terrible treatment everywhere. She would be bullied and persecuted everywhere she went within the magical world. Most likely, she would have to resort to leaving the Wizarding World if her family was not able to shelter her well enough.
Hermione couldn't find it in her to be sorry for her. Her crime was her foolishness, it warranted some sort of punishment.
"What the hell is this!?" George's angry outburst made her jump and return to herself. She couldn't allow herself to think like that. "This can't be true!"
"I'm afraid it is, George," Hermione answered him. "That butterbeer in the kitchen is incriminating enough," she explained. "Harry saw her filling it with a lust potion so he spilled it on the floor."
George's eyes were wide and disbelieving. "She was going to give Harry a lust potion?"
"No," Hermione's tone was detached, as though she was nothing but a soulless shell made to retell an obvious fact. "She was going to give me a lust potion."
"What!?" Arthur asked shocked, letting himself fall onto the sofa. "How can you not hate her?" he asked again.
"I've already answered that question," her tone was brisk. No nonsense. "Now, please, show me where that book is so that I may help Harry."
She didn't need the book for the possible potions that might be in Harry's system at the moment. She needed it to know what had started it all. It was time to stop getting sidetracked. She had to focus solely on Harry, and finish this.
And she would.
To be continued.
Okay that's it for this time. I'm sorry you had to wait a little longer than usual. I had planned on having this out by Tuesday, but the computer I use for most of my writing is also the one my family uses for it's business-yes, I write on the job! What do you want, it's boring! I have nothing to do but sit there and wait for people to come in!-anyway, my dad installed a new program to keep track of our stock, and it interfered with the signal from my keyboard, so I couldn't write. This computer, the one equipped with Internet, I unfortunately don't get much access to, so it was somewhat tricky juggling this chapter. Hope you still enjoyed it, but let me know what you thought. Leave a review or drop me a line at Robbygal@hotmail.com
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