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Other People's Choices	By : Lomonaaeren Category: Harry Potter > General > General Views: 24374 -:- Recommendations : 1 -:- Currently Reading : 5
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Chapter Forty-Nine—Awakening
Harry opens his eyes slowly. For a minute, he doesn’t understand why he hurts, and then he remembers the steam.
He tries to sit up, but Professor Snape is already there with a potion. Harry tries to open his mouth and ask if Sirius was hurt, but Snape pours the potion down his throat instead. Harry chokes indignantly on it. He supposes it’s probably some sort of burn-cooling potion. Or maybe a painkiller. He would just prefer burn paste, thank you.
“Is Sirius all right?”
“Black wasn’t harmed.” Professor Snape’s voice is even as he holds out another potion, and Harry finds himself gulping it before he can even try to protest. It tastes like spit mixed with lint. Snape peers at him and nods. “There is no damage to your eyes. I feared there was.”
Harry swallows, and only part of him can pretend it’s to get the nasty stickiness of the potion out of his throat. “I—I don’t want to be blind. I know my eyes aren’t the best, but I don’t want to be blind.”
“Neither does anyone else want you to,” Snape says, and gives him yet another potion. Harry swallows it grumpily. He thinks he’ll glow in the dark any second now from the sheer effect of so much potion magic inside him.
“Where is Sirius?”
“He’s been banned from the hospital wing for the moment.”
“What? Why?” Harry can remember the moment when Sirius said they shouldn’t go to Madam Pomfrey, and it makes him feel horrible, but he never thought it would go so far as keeping Sirius from seeing him.
“Because he came in here while I was waiting for Madam Pomfrey to return from St. Mungo’s and tried to attack me.” Snape takes a seat on a chair beside the bed, one that must be conjured or Transfigured, because Harry doesn’t remember seeing it before. “He can’t tolerate me near you. I must say, I understand how he feels.”
Harry glances at him quickly. “Why?”
“Because I can’t tolerate him near you. And I waited far longer than I should have in the Forest, observing you, before I came to your rescue. Can you forgive me, Harry?”
“You were there when—”
“Yes. When he used an artifact intended for training Aurors, an artifact that he should never have been able to obtain or conjure, on you.”
“Sirius didn’t mean to.”
Professor Snape leans towards him, and Harry finds it difficult to look away from those black eyes, even knowing that the professor is probably reading his mind. “That is what everyone says. That is what he said to me himself. And I wonder why it should be a defense. So he did not mean to. Does unintentional harm harm you any less? If you had died or been blinded, would he have gone to the funeral saying he didn’t mean to?”
Harry has to close his eyes. He knows what Professor Snape is saying, but he doesn’t want to acknowledge it.
“There you are, Mr. Potter! I hope that Professor Snape hasn’t been exhausting you.”
Harry turns his head to see Madam Pomfrey hurrying towards him. Following her is a tall woman with bright hair like Ron’s, dressed in the green robes that Harry remembered hearing once indicate St. Mungo’s. She has the crossed bone and wand patch, too. She nods to him and runs her wand in a circle that makes some of Harry’s injuries light up.
“He isn’t exhausting me, Madam Pomfrey.” Harry wants to go back to sleep and sleep for a thousand years, but that’s not Snape’s fault. “When can I leave the hospital wing?”
“Not for a while, Mr. Potter! The steam burns aren’t healing as cleanly as they’d like. I suspect it’s because they were inflicted by magic—”
“Yes, that is the cause, Poppy.” The Healer has a deep voice. She tucks her wand away and nods to Harry. “Can you tell me which spell this was, Mr. Potter?”
“I don’t know the name.” And that’s the truth, so Harry doesn’t see why Snape scowls at him.
“Describe the looks of the spell for me, if you would.”
“It was a yellow cloud. Um. Of steam.” The Healer only nods patiently, and Harry gets the impression that she’ll stand there until nightfall if she has to. He sighs. “I tried to shield, but it divided in half and went around the shield.”
“Sentient Steam.” The Healer sounds like Aunt Petunia discussing magic in general, but her eyes are neutral. “There are only a few places that could have come from.”
“One of them is an artifact used to train Aurors. The Iron Pole.”
Harry whips around to scowl at Snape, and then gasps in pain as that stretches some of the burns on his shoulders. Madam Pomfrey immediately bustles up with another potion, and stands there until he takes it. This one is sweet, which makes Harry suspicious. Then his eyes start drooping, and he fights it.
“Where would someone at Hogwarts have got an Iron Pole?”
“I don’t know, madam. But I have my suspicion as to the source. Would you care to accompany me?”
“Don’t—I want to come—” That’s all Harry manages to choke out before he can feel the potion almost pressing his eyelids into his face. He struggles to open them anyway. “Don’t hurt Sirius,” he manages to whisper.
“I won’t let them,” Madam Pomfrey says, but from the way she smiles, Harry isn’t so sure. He’s asleep before he can protest again.
*
“You say that the boy’s godfather was responsible for his injuries, Professor Snape? But why would a devoted godfather let his godson play with such a dangerous toy?”
Severus nods to Healer Helios as he strides rapidly up the stairs. He hasn’t seen Black since last night, and suspects the coward to be hiding either in his rooms or with Dumbledore. No mind. It will give them a clear path to where Severus thinks the Iron Pole came from. “Sirius Black is damaged from the months he spent in Azkaban. I don’t think it’s so hard to understand.”
“I was under the impression he had been cleared.”
“His trial cleared him of the criminal charges that mistakenly placed him there. But he has not yet seen a Mind-Healer.”
“That should have been a condition of his taking up the post of godfather to Mr. Potter again!”
Severus smiles thinly. At least there’s as much disapproval in Healer Helios’s voice as he’d expect. “From my understanding, one has been secured for him, but he hasn’t yet met with her.”
“Do you know her name?”
“Miriam Hawksgift.”
“She was stripped of the right to practice Mind-Healing in Britain a year ago! She behaved inappropriately with one of her patients. Who thought it was worth bringing her on?”
“Albus Dumbledore made the decision.”
Severus privately thinks it makes a great deal of sense that Albus chose a Mind-Healer who would be totally dependent on him for a case and would owe him further if he kept her secret. But he doesn’t intend to listen to Healer Helios’s expostulations right now. They stop outside the Room of Requirement, which Severus learned about a few years ago. He gives Healer Helios a glance and sees that she’s focused on the horrible tapestry hanging on the wall.
“Where is this place? A hidden storeroom?”
“Worse, Madam. A place where you can make a request of the magic that powers the school and it will create that object. Or hiding place. Or whatever else you want to tell it.” Severus turns and walks past the wall, thinking clearly, I want to find the place that Sirius Black took the Iron Pole from.
On his third pass, just when Healer Helios is beginning to watch him skeptically, a small wooden door appears. Severus carefully turns the waxed knob, even though he’s never had a bad result from opening a door into this room, and has his wand drawn when it opens.
He finds himself staring into a mass of jumbled boxes and books and chairs and so many other broken items that he wants to shield his eyes from the mess. But there is another Iron Pole, or maybe the same one if Black returned it, standing tall over the rubbish heap, and Severus nods to it. “It seems that there is a wealth of Auror artifacts in here, madam.”
Healer Helios is already casting spells, her face a leaden mask. One of them makes the Iron Pole glow a yellow similar to the steam cloud that attacked Harry. She lowers her gaze with a heavy sigh. “That is it. Thank you for bringing me here, Professor Snape.”
“It was my pleasure, madam.” Severus bows to her and leaves her to secure the Iron Pole in whatever way her evidence demands.
Sirius Black is going to have another trial. And Harry might hate him until the end of time, but at least other people now know both about Black injuring his godson and Albus hiring a disgraced Mind-Healer.
*
“I demand to see Albus Dumbledore.”
It’s only chance that Hermione is walking through the corridor towards the Charms classroom when she hears that. She immediately turns around. She knows what happened to Harry, and she does not approve of Sirius doing that, and someone demanding to see Dumbledore now almost has to be about Harry and Sirius.
The woman standing there is one that Hermione’s never seen before. She has white hair that’s done up so tight on her head Hermione winces. Doesn’t it give her a headache? And she has thin lips and a pointed face like a fox’s—or like Malfoy’s—and she has a huge ruby ring on her hand and she grips her cane as if she’s going to hit someone with it.
Professor McGonagall looks flustered as she steps out of her own classroom and nods to the woman. “I think Albus is in his office, Madam Macmillan. If you want to come with me, I can show you—”
“I know the way, Minerva. I only wanted to know where the scoundrel was.” Hermione has never heard anyone put that much depth of feeling into a word that’s not a curse word. “I will be on my way now.” And she sweeps away. Her cloak is long and purple and expensive and it flutters. Hermione watches her leave, and she knows her mouth is open.
Professor McGonagall sighs, and then she catches sight of Hermione. Her face darkens. “Not a word about this, Miss Granger.”
“Of course not, Professor.” Except to my friends. Hermione waits until the professor leaves, and then she goes to Charms. She immediately writes a note to Ron and shows it to him.
We have to have a study group meeting. I know Harry can’t be there, but it’s important.
Ron nods, his jaw clenching. He won’t like it, but Hermione knows that he’ll pass on the word to Zacharias Smith, who’s sitting not far behind him. Hermione sees Cho Chang in her Advanced Arithmancy class, and she’ll speak to her there. Cho can tell Luna. Hermione glances around and decides that she’ll find a way to tell the Slytherins as soon as she can. She’ll send an owl if she has to.
For now, she writes a note to Neville, who’s sometimes there and sometimes not, and slides it across the room when Professor Flitwick’s back is turned.
He might even approve of what she’s doing. That spell to pass the message is actually a very complicated charm.
*
“Greetings, Mr. Potter. I am Madam Gwendolyn Macmillan.”
Harry stares at the regal-looking woman in front of him. She’s tall enough that he thinks she’s probably the tallest woman he’s ever seen. She isn’t exactly smiling, but she is looking at him with an expression of sympathy.
There’s only one thing he can think of to say. “Ernie’s grandmother?”
“His great-aunt. The matriarch of my family at the moment, since there were too many people with no sense who have died.” Madam Macmillan sits down on the chair next to the bed, which is where Snape usually sits, and stares intently at him. “I am here to tell you that I think what Albus Dumbledore and your godfather did to you was shameful.”
Harry tenses, which makes some of the burns on his shoulders hurt. “What are you talking about? You know?”
“I know that Albus Dumbledore was going to choose the Mind-Healer for your godfather. I know that your godfather pushed you to use a spell he should not have and you were injured.”
“But I don’t want you to know! I don’t want anything to happen to Sirius! I want to live with him this summer after I’m healed! It’s the only chance I have!”
Madam Macmillan watches him, and then continues when Harry hides his face with his hands, because he didn’t mean to say that. “I do not want to separate you from your godfather permanently, Harry. But you must see that you cannot live alone with him right now. And a Mind-Healer who cannot heal him is worse than useless. It might make him overconfident, and you might get hurt again.”
“I want to live with him,” Harry whispers harshly. “And not anyone else.” He’s trembling. He knows, he knows, that Sirius hurt him, but all the other options are so much worse.
“I know. But you should have a secondary guardian as well. You should make the decision as to who that secondary guardian is. They would make sure that your godfather is attending sessions with a registered Mind-Healer that Albus Dumbledore had no part in choosing. They would see you on a regular basis and make sure that you are uninjured. Wild pranks or other ideas that your godfather comes up with could be vetoed. They would provide you a safe place to retreat to if your godfather became threatening.”
Harry lowers his hands slowly. He ignores what she says about Sirius becoming threatening, because he wouldn’t, not on purpose, but the rest of it—doesn’t sound bad. “I would be able to choose them?”
“Of course. Why wouldn’t you? You have power as the Boy-Who-Lived. Use it. A regular thirteen-year-old can be shuffled from home to home, but not you. Would you like me to run the press campaign for you?”
“What…press campaign?”
“While you aren’t an ordinary thirteen-year-old, there will be people who object to you choosing a secondary guardian because of your young age. You’ll need someone to spend time explaining to the papers why your situation is different. I can do that. Or you can choose someone else. I would choose someone with specific experience, mind. Someone incompetent would make as much sense as placing your godfather with a Dumbledore-chosen Mind-Healer.”
Harry stares at her. This sounds too good to be true, which means it must be. “But Dumbledore…”
“I have spoken to Dumbledore.” Madam Macmillan looks extremely satisfied with herself. “He had no arguments when I pointed out the specific laws he had broken—both in never giving Sirius Black a trial in the first place, and now trying to sneak through the regulations. He has no power where I am concerned, Mr. Potter. I am too rich for him to make worry about money, too well-connected for him to threaten politically, and too used to living my life in the relentless scrutiny of pure-blood society to have any blackmail material lying around.”
“But he could still threaten Ernie, couldn’t he?”
“I would like to see him try.” Madam Macmillan looks an inch away from cackling.
Harry blinks and gets back on track. “How did you even know what happened?”
“I received a letter with some of the details. It followed up on another letter that had concerned me, but I was still debating whether to act. After all, if your parents were alive, neither of them would thank me for interfering. They knew their own minds.” Harry can see why Madam Macmillan would approve of that. “But then I reminded myself that they’re not alive, and you might now know some of the things a traditional Potter would do in this situation. I decided to speak to you and find out what you wanted.”
“I want to live with Sirius.”
“You can. With adequate guardianship.”
“I want to live with Sirius without someone else interfering.”
Harry thinks she’ll tell him no again, but Madam Macmillan looks deeply into his eyes and asks, “Is that true?”
Harry swallows. He thinks of the burns on his shoulders and how he could have lost his sight if Snape didn’t get him to Madam Pomfrey when he did. He sighs and admits, “No.”
“Who are you and what are you doing here?”
“Arranging things, Severus Snape.” Madam Macmillan doesn’t flinch or look away from Harry. “Well, then. That’s something you can think about. Think about who else you want to live with, how you’ll manage your press campaign, and how you’ll make sure that Dumbledore interferes less in your life. You want to live with your godfather. That can work, if he’s healed. But only focusing on that and nothing else blinds you. You know that.”
Harry nods a little. Yes, he can see that now. He never even thought about the option of a second guardian, and he should have. When Snape started bringing up those other names, he should have asked about it.
But he didn’t. Because he thought Sirius was it and there was no one else and that was—just the way it ended.
“He will not be living with his godfather.”
“Yes, he will. With proper regulations in place.”
“His godfather will be tried for endangering a child soon!”
“Who in this room do you think has the most influence over the cases that come up in front of the Wizengamot, Severus Snape?”
Harry, meanwhile, is staring at Snape and feeling as though someone’s snagged a fishhook in the back of his throat. “You told someone?” he whispers.
“The Healer who came to see you. She insisted on knowing how your injury happened.”
“You didn’t have to—push for a legal case.” Harry is a little dazed, and he doesn’t like the sense of betrayal he feels. Since when was he relying on Snape?
Madam Macmillan sighs. “You never knew when to leave well enough alone, Severus Snape. Your mother was the same way, poor half-brained thing.” She nods to Harry and stands up, leaving Snape snarling at her back. “Think about it. I will be happy to help you, or you can choose another. But you should think about it.”
Harry lies back in his bed and closes his eyes. His shoulders hurt, and he wants to rest, and he wants to think. “All right, thanks, Madam Macmillan.”
“Call me Gwendolyn if you wish, Mr. Potter. But not Gwen. I despise Gwen.”
She leaves, from the tapping of her cane. Harry keeps his eyes closed. Snape is breathing raggedly.
Finally, Snape asks, “Why did you listen to her, and not me?”
“Because you hate Sirius,” Harry says. “Maybe you hate him more than you want to help me. Getting him tried and arrested again—and I’m supposed to like you?” He thought he was just going to talk in a normal voice, but suddenly, he’s yelling instead and he can’t help it. “Get out, get out!”
Madam Pomfrey comes in then, and says some things about Snape that Harry wishes he could listen to. But his mind is churning. He wants to rest. And he wants to think.
For once, he might have the chance to make his own decision about living with Sirius. It feels…
Wonderful.
*
Kain: Harry is unlikely to trust Dumbledore now. He knows that he's manipulative and he even jumps straight to thinking that he'll try to use Ernie to keep a leash on Madam Macmillan somehow in this chapter.
Snape was watching because he feared something would go wrong, but he wanted to wait, because if nothing did go wrong, Harry wouldn't forgive him for interfering. Of course, Harry might not forgive him either way at this point.
The chances of it just being Sirius living with Harry are gone, yes, But there are other things they can do.
Oh, believe me, Sirius is thinking the bitter thoughts that you are about Snape! Just without the clarity about his own problems.
Harry doesn't know it was Daphne who alerted them yet; he's in too much turmoil right now to think about who wrote the letters. But just wait until he finds out.
Silentxxdreamer: Thank you! The other stories in the series will have more hopeful titles.
Lucimoon: Thank you!
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