Mad Apothecarist

We went through a dark tunnel – after an exciting slide down a giant tube – which was weirdly enough clean. I expected bones, water from the pipes, dust, cobwebs, ANYTHING, but there was only stuffy air. Our trail had many turns and we walked for quite a while – until we couldn't. There was a solid wall ahead on which two intertwined serpents were carved, their eyes similar colour to Henry when he used his magic (or was giggling madly next to a fire).

The younger boy hissed at them a short word (probably open or fuking open) and went through a crack in the wall before it managed to fully open. For once, it wasn't him who said “Fucking hell!” George grabbed my hand for emotional support, his eyes big with awe and fear. We were standing in a dimly lit chamber, pillars that had alive-looking carvings of snakes on them supported the ceiling that was hidden in darkness. It sent chills down my spine – Henry wasn't even looking around, which supported my theory that he knew a lot more than any living soul about this.

Bar the Slytherin Heir, of course.

On the other end of the chamber was a huge statue of a bearded man, his sharp features highlighted by the green light. But nothing caught my eye more than the body of my little sister on the ground. 

“Ginny!” George cried out and ran to her side. “Please, wake up – Ginny, wake up-“

I stayed by Henry’s and looked around us, so I was the first one who saw the older boy.

“She won't wake,” he said with a soft voice. It was scary how much he reminded me of my best friend – willowy, dark-haired, his eyes brownish-green that gleamed with intelligence. However, he was slightly blurred around the edges and a smirk on his face had no sadistic glee behind it.

“What did you do to her?!”

“She's alive, no worry – at least for now.” The hidden sadism shined from under his sweet mask. I prefer the rough truthfulness of Henry's face. “It's nice to finally meet you face to face, Henry.” Surprisingly – now he looked truly happy.

“Tom,” he nodded shortly, frowning. “So you did all of it. Have you somehow possessed Ginny?”

“Yes, did you put it together now or before?” He went closer to us, ignoring the other pair.

“Before, because you fucking MISSED the fact that I don't just MISS AN HOUR OF MY LIFE without noticing, you sly MOTHERFUCKER!”

“Truly magnificent.” He was circling around us like a predator preparing for a pounce. “Did you manage to uncover another one of my secrets?”

“What do you mean?” I asked and stepped in front of the shorter boy.

“You somehow drained her magic which is why you have your own body. You took MY magic too, haven't you?”

“Not only her magic, my dear Henry. Also her life force, which will give me body! Your magic just made it easier, such a lovely dark wild beauty. I wasn't even trying to take it, it just went through me and allowed me to keep a little at a time. I made you give me away when I couldn’t stop my nature to take and take and take-“

“Got it. Just… release her. You act fucking irrational outside of the diary, Tom. You need to go back – and we can find another way.” Henry pushed me back, so he could hold an eye-contact. I could almost applaud him for how calm he managed to be.

“No, I listened to her wishes and needs for so long – Quidditch this, Quidditch that, Ron-the-annoying-brother, twins that are just SO cool…” he was crazily mumbling now. “I will become a real boy again, and then we can study the dark arts together! We could travel to gain knowledge, with my Slytherin Vaults! We could rule the world, two most powerful wizards – standing side by side against the whole world!” He came closer and closer until he stood in front of Henry. I was frozen in shock when he grabbed his freckled face – but not at all surprised when the ghost got yeeted across the chamber (I have truly horrible reactions). 

“Come on, asshole – I bet there are better ways to get a body!”

“No, no, no – bad Henry, such a bad boy – you should be punished, yes, punished-“ Then he started hissing at the statue, which opened its mouth wide open. A big body could be seen moving in the darkness and after a short while, a huge snake slithered out of there. I stepped in front of Henry to shield him but he pushed me back again and hissed at the serpent. I never imagined that reptiles could be so expressive with their facial features and tones of hissing. It looked distressed, unwilling to do what her master told her. The so-called Tom hissed in abundance too and took out a yew wand.

Ginny's wand. It made my blood boil and my stomach curl in discomfort. They were obviously incompatible.

***

“I can't say no to the Slytherin Heir, little heir,” Soteria hissed with a hitch that would usually mean someone was on the verge of crying.

“Kill his friends, but not Henry, not the little heir,” Tom grinned widely, none of his previous intelligence to be seen.

“Soteria, no!”

“I'm sorry,” she bowed her head before striking in George's direction. I pushed as much magic as I could into one blow at the tip of her nose and it only stopped her marginally. Fred shielded us from an unknown red spell that Tom shot at us. They fell into a duel while I tried to keep her distracted from her forced goal but I was getting weaker – my tiredness strong even under the effects of pepper-up. My blood sugar was too low for this shit, but what can I do?

I managed to lead her further back, away from a vicious duel between twins and the memory – George joined his brother because Fred alone could never stand up to Tom who was a genius like myself (and what is worse – for them – he specialized in hexes and jinxes, not potions). I threw rubble created by a blasting curse that didn't hit its intended target and threw it at her, when she lost her interest in my only slightly hurtful spells. I should really practice my duelling more (such a horribly bland subject).

Maybe I could look into spell creation, that might suit me a lot- “Eek!” I shrieked when a big bird flung just centimetres from my head and attacked Soteria's precious eyes. “Hey!” I threw one of the rocks at it so it managed to scratch out only one eye. “She's not using them!” If she did, I would be dead but she hissed a soft promise before the fight that she would keep her primary eyelids closed. “Stupid flying fucker!” I completely forgot what was happening at that moment, but a cutting hex that hit my cheek brought me back.”

“I said kill the other boys, you stupid snake!” Tom hissed at her angrily before hitting Fred with a spell square in the chest which threw him at least two meters back. Geoge hit his opponent with a blasting curse which threw him back too.

Then I saw it, under Fred who was wheezing (probably because of broken ribs). The summoning spell didn't work so I yelled at him while ducking under an attack. “Forge, under – to me!” I shortened it and hoped for cooperation – thankfully he was not only a good translator but also a thrower. I spun around and waited for an attack filled with teeth - put the diary above my head and hoped I would survive the chomp. Someone screamed and I felt pain like never before – my screams resonated with Tom's, but his were screechier and stopped before mine. I was hiccuping in pain because the left part of my face was not only scratched by the basilisk tooth but also drenched in her potent poison.

“Little heir, what is going on?” she asked, probably just as blind as myself right now. I couldn't calm her down, as I was in the midst of a confusing whirlwind of pain.

“Pain, so much,” I managed to hiss through my tears.

“Henry!“ one of the twins grabbed my shoulders and lifted my chin up. “The phoenix will help you – he –“

“Not the fucking bird!”

“Calm down! He can help. Phoenix tears can heal,” Fred started to pet my hair like I was a fucking dog but I couldn't get anything past my lips. It would come up as a cry or a screech so I shut up for once. I forced them to clean it first with aquamenti, then let the bird try to cry on most of my injury. It still hurt like a motherfucker and I had no energy to even stand up after that. I ended up on Fred's back and George picked up their sister.

“I'll try to come back as soon as I can,” I managed to tell Soteria before we left. I buried my face in his shoulder (but not the left side) and tried to stop my shaking and whimpering. I felt so much pain.

My hands are no longer as scar-less as they were almost a year ago, my experiments with potions marking them with spots paler than my already pallor shade. I experienced acidic and base burns, felt fire lick my fingers, got a hot liquid on me multiple times. But nothing ever felt this bad – nothing burned like the most potent poison (in the magical world) and a powerful corrosive substance.

Through the haze of pain, I understood only that we managed to get out and the twins were stopped by someone. Then I blacked-out – because the next thing I remember is fretting Poppy who was cleaning my wound with healing salves. However, we were not in the infirmary – but in the headmaster's office.

“Fred has broken ribs,” I muttered before a pain-filled hiss came through my lips. “Be more careful, bitch!”

***

Albus Dumbledore regrated many things – he thought it came with his age but Minerva was only a few decades younger and she was much more in peace with her past.

He regretted his youth the most - Ariana's death, Abefort's growing hate for his older brother, fall of Gellert into dark arts. But then there were things like his always obvious dislike for Tom Riddle (he treated him bad since he met the boy), favouritism towards Marauders (poor Severus, who never got what the boy truly deserved). He regretted the death of James and Lily Potter, hated that he couldn't help them or save Sirius from prison (The bidings of the one who put up wards and bound them to a Secret-Keeper were merciless – he could never say that Peter was the one who betrayed the Potters. Even if Albus could, he still killed those muggles.). Now he even regretted his decision to put young Henry with his aunt – and was glad that she put him up for adoption and he became part of the Bundy family.

Intellect of that boy was scary, probably even greater than the Dark Lord’s in his prime. Albus had a feeling that people should worship the Bundy family, because they probably stopped the rise of a new dark lord right in the potential beginning. He had the same tendencies and characteristics as Tom – arrogant, intelligent, charismatic. Powerful. Dark. However, where Tom was secretive and sly, Henry was cruelly honest and unapologetically himself (read: rude).

His family gave him love, something Tom never had. They supported him in any subject or interest he had and worked with him on his aggressive nature and lack of morals. What would become of Tom, if he had similar background? Politician, lawyer, minister – or his original dream-job, a teacher?

There was a slight negative to this – there were two angry parents prepared to tear his throat out and siblings that looked scarily similar to their adopted brother when he wanted to blow something up (something like a school or just the headmaster). “Take us there, or I will personally strangle you,” Samatha seethed and the headmaster wasn't even considering something else than nodding.

“I will apparate you to my office, where he's getting the basic treatment by the school healer. You will probably need to go to the hospital – I will take you there after getting his things. He will be excused from all his exams and get a score based on his performance in classes and homework. Please, touch this parchment and expect a feeling like you were dragged through a tight tube.” He tried to make this as short as he could – one of the children in the background had a baseball bat and a deranged look in his blue eyes.

“Fridrich, Marie, take care of your siblings,” their father said calmly before grabbing the parchment. His wife followed but looked at the headmaster with looks that could kill.

“No worry dad!” their oldest daughter smiled fakely. “Hide the bodies well!”

Albus teleported the group to Hogwarts as quickly as possible.

Molly was already there, cuddling her only daughter with fat tears on her freckled cheeks. The twins were between them and young Henry, who had his eyes shut and curled on himself in a plush chair transfigured from a quill. His injury was an angry shade of red and around it was a splotch pink skin partially covered in creams that lowered his pain. Fawkes helped a little, making the venom non-lethal but nothing could get the potent liquid from the pale face fully.

“Oh Harry,” his mother breathed in shock, which made him open his un-injured eye. He looked like a statue before something broke in his cold façade and launched on his mother, gripping her in his spindly arms and a loud pain-filled sob tore out of his throat.

No one expected him to break, he seemed so composed before (but Fred and George knew there was something wrong – their friend never shook like a leaf in a thunderstorm and his eyes have never had such a dead look in them). Samatha dragged him to a chair he exited so quickly and sat down, her son on her lap and his tearful eyes hidden in her shoulder. Gregor stayed calm, gently holding both of them but burning a hole through the headmaster with his deep brown eyes. There was a promise of shouting and probably even a lawsuit in them, but he took care of his family first.

“I couldn't find his trunk in the Raven-“ Severus barged into the office before freezing on the spot. “I'm sorry I interrupt.” He looked at the sobbing boy like it physically hurt him (and it did).

“No need to apologize, professor,” Gregor nodded at him. “Boys, do you where Henry has his things?”

“I'll bring it,” George jumped up and then quickly disappeared, so no one had the opportunity to follow him.

***

Feeling better after my burst of emotions, I was the one who pushed my parents into going to St. Mungos. We were port-keyed to the second floor by the Headmaster, as it was quicker and muggles can't use the floo properly (Mrs Weasley and Ginny went to a different floor, as she wasn't injured by an animal).

Mum held me so strongly it hurt and dad looked more like a dragon than a human when he looked at everyone with an angry curl of his lip. Let's say I was the only one who was calmed down by crying. I wonder what will they do in the future.

One of the healers told us to follow him into an office, immediately after we arrived. People recognized me as Harry Potter and there was a lot more talking than my already agitated magic could take. “So, do you know what animal attacked your son, Mr Bundy?” He talked to dad, not even looking at me. Like I wasn't there.

“By a basilisk, you fucker. Dad wouldn't recognize a testral from a hippogriff. She accidentally scraped my face and released her venom on instinct. I had it cleaned with water and then with cleaning salve by Mrs Pomfrey.”

“She?” he moved his eyes to me, slightly shocked like most adults when I opened my mouth.

“Yes, she. But that is not important – I also got partially healed by phoenix tears so there is no danger to my life. However, it still hurts like a mother-fucker.” He looked for a little too long before using a basic diagnostic charm. Then one a lot more precise, that specialized on sight.

“We can save your face – there are creams and procedures to get rid of scars-“

“No fucking way, I like them. Scars look cool – but what about the pain?!” Something cracked when my magic lashed out. Who asked him about scars?!

“Calm down, Mr Bundy-Potter. Are you sure? It will calm down but the scaring will be still horr-“

“I sssaid I fucking like it. Again -  what about the pain?”

“I'm afraid there is nothing that could help – we will give you painkillers that should make it bearable, but only time can heal injuries this serious.” Fuck you too, asshole. “But there is another thing – can you open your left eye?”

“Judging by your diagnostics I would guess not?” Dad's fingers will leave my shoulder bruised, I'm fully sure about that. Although I was partially sure what would happen, I did try to open my eye-lids. It hurt, but I managed – just to see from only one eye. I logically knew there was little chance I could keep both of my horrible eyes, but hope dies last. “Let's say that I can get an eyepatch.”

“Henry!” Mom yelled in distress and hugged me from my right side. “My poor baby!”

“I could poke his eyes out and then sue him into an early grave,” dad was whispering behind my back and haven't stopped his experiment ‘how long can Henry's shoulder joint last’.

“Is there any magical way of repairing it? I never read about it.”

“There is not – we can make a new magical eye that would give you sight though. It's a complex rune matrix that makes you able to see. There are many models, but the civilian one is like a muggle glass eye – and it’s also the only one you can get. The first one is paid by the ministry, but you will need extra ones because they need to soak in potions so they become wet and don't damage your eye-socket. If you pick this option, of course.”

“Will it be as bad as my actual eyesight? And what are the non-civilian models?” I grew interested.

“It will have a 20/20 vision, as long as you take good care of it. And the non-civilian eyes are too big to fit into a human eye-socket because they have so many runes on them that they need to be bigger. They can see through walls, see magic, move independently from the normal one – but only Aurors, hit-wizards and people in ministry can get their hands on them. “

“How soon can you make it?” Mum asked, still crushing me in her arms.

“In an hour or two, depends if you want one now and later come for the other one or do you want both of them?”

“Both,” I shrugged.

“That means we have time for a general health-check!”

“We regularly visit a GP. Muggle one,” dad added the muggle part when the healer looked at him, confused.

“Yes, that is great – but magical children have usually different development to muggle or squib children, Mr Bundy. Magic changes bodies enough that some consider magical folk as a different race – we have usually better metabolism because magic is just another form of energy. We are immune to common muggle viruses and bacteria, however, muggles are in turn immune to our illnesses. Also, most wizards and witches have weaker bones and bruise easier – although there is research that that is part of being pureblood.”

“Inbreeding does that,” I snickered but then hissed in pain. Too many facial expressions mean HURT PAIN HURT – got it.

“So, can I proceed?”

“Sure,” mum nodded and let go of me. The wizard waved his wand in complex moves (and overdid every swish, show-off). Parchment began to fill with my medical information.

“You are healthy if I don't count your recent injuries. Would you be so kind and answered a few questions?”

“Shoot.”

“So, Henry, do you have a lot of problems with accidental magic?”

“Yes, but I can partially control it. It used to be much more violent, now it just makes small explosions if I'm experiencing heightened emotions.” He wrote that down next to something already inked on the yellowed parchment. I want that paper.

“Have your puberty started already?”

“Are asking me if I started to grow hair or if I jack-off?” I raised an eyebrow. Mum and dad deadpanned next to me. I let the adults simmer before: “I'm only experiencing start od acne. And got my growth spurt I guess.”

“The growing is not part of puberty – you have too much magic for a pre-pubescent sized body so your body automatically grows to accommodate it. It should stabilize before you reach your magical maturity, which is around fourteen to fifteen years old. But you won't get the usual puberty-induced growth spurt.”

“I never heard of something like that.”

“It's very unusual, so that doesn't surprise me. There are some instances, but don’t grow in such noticeable amounts. Next question: when was the last time you slept?”

“Monday.”

“It's Wednesday!”

“Exactly – I was trying to figure something out. Why?”

“Your information shows that you have insomnia, but not because of some external force or illness. How long do you suffer from it?”

“Since I was a kid – I suffered from frequent nightmares. I found out that sleeping less often means I have fewer nightmares – too tired to make them up,” I shrugged. “I don't mind it though, are you aware of how many hours people lose because of a healthy sleeping schedule? I would have half the time I have now for reading and experimenting!”

“We talked with our doctors about it and they said that we should make him exhausted or force him to go to sleep, but Henry would never fall asleep if he wasn't willing. So we let him, as long as he has no issues because of lack of sleep,” mum added.

“Noted. Do you have any other… rituals?” We looked at each other for a long time.

“Are you asking me if I'm autistic? Or have a ‘simple’ OCD?”

“You are very smart, aren't you?”

“Certified genius, but that doesn't matter right now. To answer your question: I was tested because of my lack of manners and smart people obviously need some psychological problems – and I have, some, but those are not one of them. I might be obsessive, but – for example – I'm too messy and lack a need for schedules. My sleeping tendencies are proof of that.”

He had some other questions and then wanted to talk with just my parents. I put my ear on the door to listen to them. “So, what do you want to do?”

“About what?”

“He's just a child, he doesn't understand the importance of having a reputable face, especially for someone of his standing-“

“If Henry wants to have those scars, he will have scars. The end – come buddy, I bet you could use some sugar. I saw a cantine in the hall!” Dad, my saviour (he knows me too well for me to listen to them without suspicion…)!