A new begining - 7

Several days later, Harry's sleep was broken by a loud clicking sound, startling him into full alertness. He rolled over quickly and fumbled on the nightstand for his glasses. He heard a male voice utter a locking spell and a loud grunt as something was wedged in the door. Harry's heart beat frantically as he stuffed his glasses onto his face. He was dismayed to realize his wand wasn't on the table. He was trapped.

Turning slowly to face his attacker, he was blinded by several bright flashes of light. He squinted, his panicked brain gradually focusing on the camera and the Quick-Quotes Quill hovering beside the intruder.

"Harry, I've got a family to support and a quote from you can feed 'em for a year. Just one more photo," the reporter said, the camera continuing to click as Harry turned his face away. He tried to pull the blanket up to cover his useless arm. He felt incredibly exposed sitting there in his pajamas.

"Open this door! Alohomora," a stern voice shouted from outside the thick hospital door. Harry noticed the reporter had wedged a chair behind it.

"They can undo the magic, but the Muggle tricks always slow 'em down," the reporter said, grinning. He was tall and reedy with extremely slick hair that he wore combed over to the side to try and cover the balding spot atop his head. "How does it feel to have defeated the Dark Lord, Harry? How did you do it? Did you have to use Dark Magic to accomplish it? Everyone is speculating on how You-Know-Who actually fell. Tell me about it – in your own words."

"Get out," Harry said, his teeth clenched.

"One quote, Harry," he said, ignoring Harry's anger. The Quill scribbled madly despite the fact Harry had only said two words. "What's wrong with your arm? Why are you still hospitalized? Will there be permanent damage from the battle?"

"Get out," Harry repeated, yanking open the drawer on the bedside table and searching for his wand.

The door behind the reporter suddenly imploded, blasting shards everywhere. The reporter was knocked to the ground, his camera skidding across the floor. An enraged Charlie Weasley stood behind it, his arms bulging, and his wand gripped tightly in his hand. He was covered with soot, which Harry barely recognized at first because he was so focused on the murderous expression on Charlie's face.

Charlie grabbed the reporter around the neck and hoisted him to his feet. The man scrambled frantically, his face awash with terror. Harry leaned over and picked up the camera, holding it tightly while Charlie confiscated the Quick-Quotes Quill.

"How did you get in here?" Charlie demanded.

"The people deserve some answers," the man gasped, struggling to breathe. Charlie had him pinned against the wall with his forearm pressed against his throat.

"That's enough, Mr. Weasley," an Auror said, entering the room, his crisp Ministry robes neatly pressed. "We'll take it from here."

"Yeah, as if I trust you can do that. Where was the guard?" Charlie snapped.

Harry could tell the man was blushing deeply, despite his dark skin.

"There will be a full investigation," he said. "Please release him, Mr. Weasley. I don't want to have to Stun you."

"You could try," Charlie said through gritted teeth. He pressed his arm tighter against the reporter's throat. The reporter's eyes bulged with horror, and he desperately grasped at Charlie's fingers.

"Come on, Charlie," the Auror said, dropping his formal tone. "Everyone needs to use the loo. I'll take it from here and make certain the guard is firmly reprimanded."