Damsel Wakes
******
Fred watched the dark-haired lord in concern, shooting a bit of it to his twin only to have it reflected back in acknowledgement.
Sirius Black was a great wizard, but he was still not over the tender care he’d had at the hands of Death Eaters and Dementors. They’d have to keep an eye on that.
After they transfigured a certain group of muggles into ants and crushed them.
Harry was broken. There was no other way to describe it. The Twins had seen him injured all the time. All he’d experienced at school, all the quidditch injuries since first year, the startling amount of blood he’d been soaked in after the Chamber of Secrets, all the mess of the Tri-Wizard Tournament over the last year, all the injuries he’d come back from the maze with. It would take every bump and bruise and broken bone times four to equal the state the boy was in now…
And it made their blood boil in anger.
They had no idea how Sirius had gotten the goblins to help, but they weren’t going to argue. They’d known for years that St. Mungos wasn’t the best place to go when injured. They definitely weren’t incompetent, but they were overwhelmed and highly restricted, since most of the best healing spells were invented by dark wizards and therefore illegal. Fred had taken to researching healing on his own so he could patch them up from their inventing mishaps. For the most part, he could put them together again before anyone noticed, but his favorite spells for it had come from so called dark magic. The goblins had no qualms about light or dark, just the most efficient, and they had much more practice at them than the twins.
Fred actually agreed with the goblins on that. He still didn’t really see what the big deal was, but he was never more thankful than when the pair of them had discovered the Room of Requirement so they had someplace to store the more forbidden items they utilized. Not that they cared about dark wizards. Their own cores were grey. But they also didn’t see what the big deal was with the whole light/dark debate. Magic was magic. There wasn’t anything inherently wrong with either practice. The issues came when people went to the extreme, like in all of history.
Sirius Black was the epitome of a dark wizard that wasn’t bad. Lee was another. They weren’t bad people. They practiced a different style of magic. The intent behind their actions was what drove their classification in the wizarding world, though. Not their core color. The pair didn’t really know how they could tell a person’s core color, but they’d accepted a long time ago that no one else could and really, they were fine with that. After all, it didn’t really affect who was going to be a good friend and who was going to get pranked into oblivion.
But Harry, Harry was different. His core was like theirs, pure grey, but he had a bit of blackness twisted around it. They’d spent years, since they’d first noticed it, trying to figure out what it was, but none of their books could explain it and they were far too cautious to ask anyone, even Harry. They wouldn’t treat the raven-haired beauty any differently, but they could imagine a number of people would turn their backs. Such as their mother. She couldn’t stand anyone dark and the blackness around Harry was intense. They’d never seen such darkness.
And now they had a chance to ask someone who wasn’t involved in the light/dark debate. Fred eyed George, pushing his idea to his magical twin through their bond.
“Brilliant, as usual, Forge,” his twin agreed with a smirk, throwing an arm around his shoulder.
“Is there anything that would attach to his core and lead to mood-swings, nausea, and sudden headaches, Madam Healer?” Fred asked the healer as she worked.
He hated to interrupt, but they had no idea if they’d ever get this chance again. And it could be affecting the healing. So he tried to make it as respectful as possible. Goblins were notoriously prickly with wizards, and while they’d never been rude to them, they were usually with their parents. Molly was not the easiest to deal with on a good day, but she was always frazzled when they came to pull money so was often short with the goblin helping them. They’d noticed years ago the goblins rotated who had to deal with their group whenever they came in, since their house was too small to warrant an account manager. Fred made a mental note to ask Sirius for lessons on proper etiquette when dealing with Goblins. He had a feeling they’d need the lessons when they went to open their shop.
Eir seemed to notice the respect. She turned to them, studying them intently before turning back to her charge.
“Snarlfang, get me a horcrux test potion, please,” she snapped.
Fred and George barely caught Sirius when he collapsed unexpectedly at the order. When they had him stable enough, Fred noticed his pale features were sickly white.
“Horcrux?” Sirius breathed, staring at the healer in horror.
“It is possible,” Eir said as she continued to heal the physical damage.
They’d cleared up most of the cuts on his skin, but the bruises were slow to fade and there were a number of broken bones that couldn’t be handled until the rest was done. “As he is the only known survivor of the Killing Curse, there are no known side effects. Frankly, he should have been brought to a healer immediately after it happened for tests. And they should have been extensive to make sure there really were no consequences.”
“I gave Harry to Hagrid so he could take him,” Sirius snarled, mood instantly swinging from horrified to pissed. Fred made note of the wild swing and glanced at his brother in concern. Both for the sudden change and the topic. “Even lent him my bike so they’d get there faster. Hagrid can’t apparate so he needed something faster than running. Apparently, that didn’t happen. And I was thrown in Azkaban not even a day later so I couldn’t check that he’d done so.”
The twins went from supporting the Marauder to restraining him again to prevent him from tearing off in anger.
“Calm yourself, Sirius, or I will pour so much Calming Draught down your throat you will be drooling for weeks,” Eir snarled, turning to the Black lord with wand burnished. “You are distracting us from our work and we cannot afford to make mistakes here.”
Either the threat or the goblin’s use of his proper name caused the man to slump again and Fred rolled his eyes as they took his weight again. And people called them dramatic.
“Perhaps you should head off to start on some legal revenge,” Fred suggested gently. “Gred and I will stay here and watch over him. He won’t be alone. But you have more influence than us, even on the run. The goblins can do a lot so go talk to them and see what actions they will take.”
“Call Remus,” Eir snapped as she went back to her work and basically dismissing them all from her mind.
“Remus? Remus Lupin? That professor we had for DADA two years ago?” George asked.
“Moony,” Sirius said. Taking obvious strength from the suggestion, he found his feet.
Fred grinned at his twin. That explained so much. They knew they’d liked the man for a reason. And why he’d been the only professor to actively encourage their pranking, even smiling good-naturedly when they’d turned his hair lime-green on accident. He’d worn it proudly for a week before fixing it easily, proclaiming his support of their antics without saying a word.
“I’ll just do that, then,” the man muttered.
He pushed himself away from the redheads and stalking to the door and pausing. Then there was a breathtaking transformation as he put on the mantle of Lord Black, posture straightening, face going blank, projecting the perfect visage of a pureblood Black lord. Even in the somewhat battered suit and robes, he looked like a man on a mission. It was a good look for him. The mischief twinkling in his eyes just had the twins smirking. Someone was going to pay dearly.
Then he turned back to them and pierced them with his startling grey eyes.
“Anything else happens to him before Moony gets here and I’m holding you personally responsible,” he warned.
“Yes, sir,” they chorused, giving crisp, sarcastic salutes to the man.
Sirius chuckled before leaving the room.
“Now, Madam Healer,” Fred said, turning back to the female goblin.
“What is a horcrux,”
“And why did it make Sirius Black,”
“One of the strongest men we’ve,”
“Ever heard of almost faint?”
“If you would, please, explain.”
They really tried to minimize the Twinspeak when trying to actually show respect, but in this moment, they were too concerned to really make a solid effort. At least Eir seemed to find it amusing more than annoying. That’s what they took from the smirk she sent them, anyway.
“We shall wait for Mr. Potter to wake to discuss it,” she said.
“’m a’ake,” came a soft murmur that drew all eyes to the slowly waking raven-haired patient.
******
“Mr. Potter, you should not be awake yet!” a voice screeched.
Harry winced violently when the sound pierced through his head, aggravating his already splitting headache. It took all his willpower not to throw up at the sudden spike. Not that much was keeping him from doing so. Every inch of him ached and he thought, not for the first time, that one of these times, Uncle Vernon would really kill him. And he was starting to wonder if that was a bad thing. Between the nightmare he lived over the summer and the new nightmares he lived at school, it’s not like he had much keeping him here. Yeah, he had friends, but none of them really understood the pressure he lived in constantly. The Boy-Who-Lived was by far the worst title ever given. And no one seemed to understand just how stupid it was to put all their hopes and prayers on the shoulders of a teenager. But he seemed to have survived this latest brush with death, so he may as well deal with it.
He finally managed to get his eyes opened passed the pain. And the sight that greeted him made him question if he was still dreaming. Fred and George Weasley were currently between him and a group of goblins, wands raised and posture defensive. The goblins just looked indulging of the pair. But what struck him most is that he appeared to be lying on a bed in a cave. The familiar set up of a healing ward was transposed on a stalagmite littered underground, though.
“Messers Weasley, the amount of pain potion and dreamless sleep I spelled into his stomach should have kept him unconscious for hours yet, so it is concerning that he is awake at all, let alone coherent enough to speak,” one of the goblins was explaining patiently. “We must examine him to ensure there are no ill effects to his sudden wakening, other than what I can assure you must be a massive headache.”
“’red, ‘orge,” he muttered, forcing the words out from his dry throat. “’elax, let ‘em by,” he ordered. Why the twins were there, he didn’t really care. They were and he trusted them. If he hadn’t before, the obviously protective position they were in would have ingratiated them to him immediately.
He wasn’t entirely sure he trusted the goblins, though. Respect, yes, very much so, but trust? That was in very short supply at the moment.
“You sure,”
“Harrikins?” they asked.
He managed a weak nod. The twins immediately stepped aside, taking up guard at the head of his bed, wands still drawn but no longer pointing at the goblins.
The healer that had been talking to them rushed back to the side of his bed and waved a wand over him. He wanted to ask about that, but he was so tired. He couldn’t really form the words at the moment to ask.
“Mr. Potter, you are going to be exhausted by the time we are done healing the damage,” the healer started, talking to him even as she worked. He wasn’t exactly sure how that was possible, but he appreciated the effort to explain, even more so when each swipe of the wand eased some tension he hadn’t known he had. “We cannot stop to feed you during this process, as some of what we are doing is too delicate to stop in the middle of. Which is why you were meant to sleep through it. However, since you seem to have overpowered the potions, we cannot risk giving you more. There doesn’t seem to be any repercussions, however, so you are incredibly lucky.”
“That pesky Potter luck, huh?” a familiar voice said. Harry could literally hear the smirk.
“’oony!” he called softly, too tired to put the appropriate amount of excitement into the call.
“Hello, pup,” the man said, coming to stand near him. “Gotten into a bit of trouble again huh?”
“’fraid so,” he muttered darkly.
“This is far more than a bit of trouble. The boy is lucky to be alive after what those monsters did to him,” the healer snarled and Harry blinked a little in shock. He’d never heard a goblin get this angry, let alone expected it on behalf of a wizard.
Then he stiffened. Oh, gods, he was in a goblin healing ward, after Uncle Vernon had been beating him. He didn’t remember anything after his head had bounced on the tile in the kitchen, but if he was here, someone had found him. Someone had been to Privet Drive. His mind spiraled in terror of anyone finding out. Gods, if Sirius found out! He’d kill the Dursleys and go back to Azkaban! He could lose his godfather again and this time, the chances of the man making it out sane was near impossible.
“Breathe, Mr. Potter!” the healer ordered loudly, her voice piercing through his panic enough for him to understand and her tone sharp enough for him to automatically obey.
“Can’t tell Sirius,” he ordered when he had enough air, the fear lending strength to his voice, his eyes begging as he met Remus’ soft brown ones. “Can’t.”
“He already knows,”
“Harrikins. We found you,”
“Together and got him,”
“To bring you here instead,”
“Of beating that bastard,”
“Into a bloody pulp.”
“He’s currently plotting,”
“Revenge like the master,”
“Marauder and Lord Black,”
“He is,” the twins said.
Harry really wished he could kiss the pair. They’d instantly known what had set him off and soothed the fear. He slumped into the bed in relief, much to the healer’s own relief.
“Now, Mr. Potter,” the healer snapped. “Do not do that again or you will undo all our efforts and we will then stick you to that bed until such a time as we are assured you have learned not to move when being healed.”
“Admit it, Harry,”
“You are a horrible patient.”
“Oh, ‘ush yo’ t’o,” he whined.
Moony laughed outright and Harry tried not to glare at the man.