Chapter 016

The last thing Harry heard as his hands finally slackened were three distinct cries of, "HARRY!"

Harry awoke to bright sunlight streaming in through a nearby window and a sterile smell. Groaning he shifted in the bed he was lying in noticing most of the decor was a stark white. Fumbling for his glasses from the table beside him, Harry finally figured out he was in the hospital wing and stretched out on one of the beds near the corner. Hermione was sleeping curled up on a chair nearby and there were a pile of cards and snacks on the nearby table. Harry smiled down at his friend but before he could try to move Madame Pomfrey, the Mediwitch, bustled out and shook her head at him.

"Well it's good to see you awake, Mr. Potter. How are you feeling?"

"Actually," Harry paused to take stock, "really good. My head is still a little sore but I feel fine, ma'am. What happened?"

"You'll have to ask either Professor Babbling or the Headmaster that question. All I know is they came bursting in here with Miss Granger and Mr. Longbottom in tow. You were already out and quite poor off." Pomfrey fixed him with a hard stare. "I don't like students visiting me like this, Mr. Potter. I hope we will not be having a repeat performance?" she said with an arched eyebrow.

Harry gulped. "No, ma'am. I certainly have no intention of doing that again."

"Good," Pomfrey took out her wand and began casting several diagnostic charms over his body. "You appear well enough off that you may leave after the Headmaster comes to speak with you. Take this potion for your headache." She nodded at him and, leaving a potion by his bed, walked off back to her office.

Harry drank the potion with a grimace at the horrid taste. He had twisted to wake Hermione when there was a quiet throat clearing behind him. Turning back, Harry saw Professor Dumbledore taking a seat beside his bed. "Professor."

"Good morning, Harry. I trust you are feeling refreshed?"

"I've been better, Sir, but…yes."

"Excellent." The teacher's eyes twinkled and he gave a grandfatherly smile.

"Professor, what happened? The last thing I remember is burning Professor Quirrell and blacking out."

"Well, Harry, it appears that dear Quirinus was…unable to abide your touch. You see, your mother's sacrifice left a lingering…protection…within your blood. Her pure love saved you as a child, that leftover mark on your forehead from Voldemort's curse is proof of that. Her love watches over you even now. Someone like Professor Quirrell, whose heart was filled with hate and envy and who allowed himself to be possessed by Voldemort, was unable to withstand your touch. That is why he was injured so badly."

Harry frowned. That was wrong. His mother's love may have helped jumpstart a ritual or something but the 'mark' on his forehead was a Protection rune. It was definitely not a remnant of a curse gone wrong. It was some sort of focus of what his mother had accomplished when he was a baby. Harry may not fully understand what she had done but he had recognized the rune component right off. Professor Dumbledore was over a hundred years old and supposedly well versed in many arcane branches of magic…there was no way he had missed something like that. Harry shook his head. He could worry about that later; there were more important questions for the moment.

"So, did I kill him?"

Dumbledore sighed and laid a hand on Harry's arm. "What happened to Professor Quirrell was not your fault, my boy. He killed himself when he allowed Voldemort to possess him. His body lasted but a few moments when the wraith deserted him."

"So Voldemort got away then?" Harry scowled. Of course the monster got away. If he could survive being killed once then he could probably survive being semi-killed.

"Yes. Voldemort is no kinder to his servants than to his enemies. He abandoned Quirinus as soon as he was no longer a viable host."

"And the Stone, Sir?" Harry asked with a sigh. "How did I get it out? What happened to it after?"

"Ah, a clever bit of enchanted if I do say so myself," Dumbledore said, the twinkle back in his eyes. "Only someone who wished to find the Stone but not use it could retrieve it. I daresay not many would fit that description and certainly not Professor Quirrell or Voldemort."

"And after?"

"I have spoken with Nicolas and he has agreed that the Stone had to be destroyed. The danger of another attempt was simply too great. Nicolas and his wife Perenelle have enough Elixir remaining to set their affairs in order before the end."

"That doesn't seem very fair," Harry frowned.

"Life, unfortunately, is rarely fair, my boy." Dumbledore sighed and the twinkle left his eyes before he looked back up with a soft smile. "Now, do you have any other questions, Harry?"

Harry considered for a moment. "Voldemort said that Snape hated my father while they were in school together…"

"Professor Snape, Harry," Dumbledore corrected. "And yes, your father and Severus severely disliked each other. Then, to make matters even worse your father saved Severus' life. I do not believe he could ever forgive James for that event."

Harry frowned. That made no sense whatsoever. "Can you at least tell me why he hates me then?"

"I am sure you over exaggerate, Harry. Professor Snape may not favor you, but he certainly does not hate you."

"Could've fooled me." Harry muttered with a snort.

"Yes, well, I believe I should be off, Harry. It was good to – "

"Wait! Professor Dumbledore, I need to know one more thing." The older man nodded down at Harry. "Voldemort said that he was only there that night for me. That he gave my mother a chance to leave and let him have me. Why was he coming after me? Why did he care about a baby?"

A grimace crossed Dumbledore's face but he hid it quickly and merely sighed. "Alas, my boy, I cannot answer that question at the moment. You are far too young, far too innocent for me to answer that. I know you do not like to hear this, but when you are older I will inform you what he meant by that."

Harry scowled at the man. "I've lived with the Dursleys for ten years, Professor. I haven't been innocent since I was five."

Dumbledore simply gave him a patronizing smile and stared at him with that damnable twinkle. "Be that as it may, I will not burden you with this. Have pleasant day, Harry."

As Dumbledore left the hospital wing Harry snorted and flopped back into his pillow. "Typical adult," he muttered. Continuing in a slightly louder voice, "You can stop pretending now, Hermione."

Barely a second later a bushy brown bullet had engulfed him in a hug so tight he could barely breathe. "I – was – so – scared!" The girl sobbed into his chest. "You – were – screaming – and – you've – been – out – for – two – days!"

"Shh," Harry patted her head and pushed her back slightly, trying to both get some air and to look her in the eyes. "I'm fine now. See?" Hermione's head bobbed slowly. "Did you guys meet Shiva and Dumbledore on the way out?"

"No," Hermione shook her head wiping her eyes and finally calming enough that she wasn't choking out sobs. "No, Neville and I waited in the potion room. We were hoping the vial would refill and then one of us was going to go after you. But after a few minutes Professor Babbling ran into the room with Dumbledore on her heels. When she saw us she started cursing…well cursing you really…and she launched a flame freezing charm at the other doorway. She ran through it with the rest of us following and that's when we saw you – we saw you – " She gave another sob before taking a deep breath and continuing. "You collapsed and Professor Babbling and Professor Dumbledore took you back up here. Neville and the twins along with the other members of the Quidditch team have been in a few times. Some of the others from the tower stopped by as well. I think Lavender was the one who left the hair charms book…I might actually borrow that one if you don't mind."

Harry chuckled at that. Hermione may be babbling but at least she wasn't crying anymore. "I don't think you need it but sure, go ahead. Your hair is part of what makes you, you after all." Hermione's eyes widened as Harry rubbed the back of his neck. "So, what do you think the odds are that the Flamels pop up again in a few decades after this whole thing is over?" Harry asked with a smirk.

Hermione snorted. "I don't know if Professor Dumbledore actually believes he truly did destroy the Stone or if he just wanted you to believe that, but I would certainly never take that bet. You don't survive for six centuries without having some backups and dealing with attempted thieves every now and then."

"My thoughts exactly," Harry laughed.

"Harry," Hermione sat back, suddenly very hesitant. "About what you said about your family…"

"My relatives," Harry stated tonelessly. "The Dursleys are my relatives. Not my family."

"Yes, your…relatives…"

"I don't really want to talk about it, Hermione. Please," he pleaded, "please, just…let it go?"