Hi all ;)
Originally I had intended to update my story every two weeks or so, but real life has been really hectic at the moment and it shows no signs of slowing down, unfortunately. No matter how long the wait is though, this story will never be abandoned. I made sure to be a few chapter ahead before I posted this story as a sort of preemptive strike against any potential plot holes, and I am currently finishing chapter 14.
Also, thank you so much for the nominations! I never thought i would see my story be nominated for anything. It really means a lot!
So, here is the next installment! As always flashbacks are in bold italics. I hope you enjoy. Please leave a review if you get the chance!
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Category: Alternate Universe, Post-DH/AB Characters:All Genres: Action/Adventure, Angst, Drama, Romance Warnings: Disturbing Imagery, Mild Language, Negative Alcohol Use Rating: PG-13 Reviews: 154 Summary: Harry Potter awakes from a coma into a new world built on foundations of lies and deceit. What happened to him? And why have his friends and family turned on him? Harry Potter may have won The War, but can he win his life back? Hitcount: Story Total: 64296; Chapter Total: 4233 Awards: View Trophy Room Author's Notes: |
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Dr Browne watched tiredly as his assistant helped him clean blood from his hands. Looking over at the operating table, Browne was filled with a familiar sense of pride. Another successful operation. Glancing at the clock and seeing it was almost midnight, Browne could feel his heavy eyelids slowly drooping shut. Groaning, he forced his eyelids open again and slapped himself lightly on the face to force his body to wake up. He wanted to sleep, so, so badly. But there was no time. Out in the patients ward there were three more patients desperately awaiting surgery, one of them a little girl of twelve who had her arm severely severed by dark magic. Browne shook his head in disgust. This war had caused too much damage. Each day more and more patients came piling into his surgery, each more wounded than the last. Everyday children came in, horrifyingly dismembered, their young little lives irreversibly ruined as a punishment to their parents for being muggle-born. All of this death and destruction because of one mad man and his crazed ideals born out of hatred. But it was over. Yesterday morning Ellie, his young assistant, had come rushing in, pure relief and joy on her face, shouting over and over: ‘The war was over! Voldemort was dead! Harry Potter had won!’ Browne had broken down in tears at the news. Tears of joy and relief, finally knowing that his family would be safe. But the work didn't stop there. There was still the wounded to attend to. Wiping the sweat from his brow, Browne turned to Ellie. “Bring the next patient in.” Ellie nodded tiredly and left the room. Browne smiled. ‘That poor girl,’ Browne thought to himself. ‘Overworked and under paid.’ Browne couldn’t help be impressed by his assistant though. She worked ridiculously long hours and was seriously under paid, but not once did she complain. Not only that but she was a very talented healer in her own right. But Browne suspected, much like himself, that the money didn’t matter to Ellie. It was the pride in knowing she was helping to save lives that motivated her, not the money. This made Browne respect Ellie all the more. ‘One day I’m going to have to retire,’ Browne thought to himself, ‘and someone will have to run the surgery in my place. I think I’ve found the perfect replacement.’ A knock on the window to the surgery broke Browne out of his reverie. Turning around he saw Ellie beckoning him outside. Frowning, Browne stepped outside to find her standing next to an important looking man in expensive robes. “Dr Browne,” the man said, extending his hand, “my name is Aerys Snidefish, the new Minister for Magic.” Browne blinked in surprise. ‘A new Minister for Magic already?’ Browne thought to himself. ‘And wasn’t Kingsley Shacklebolt the favourite to be the next Minister?’ What Snidefish said next pushed those thoughts to the back of his mind: “I have a proposition for you Browne, if we could talk somewhere more private.” Nodding his agreement, Browne told Ellie to look after the next patient before leading the Minister into his office. “What can I do for you Minister?” The Minister sat in the chair opposite Browne, a small wooden desk standing between them. Before replying, Snidefish looked suspiciously around the room, waving his wand in a number of complicated patterns. When he had finished he turned to face Browne. “Just a few security measures,” Snidefish explained. “What I am about to tell you is strictly confidential.” Dr Browne nodded, the anticipation building inside him. “I am searching for a highly skilled and qualified healer for a job that is crucial to the Ministry. I have heard reports from my people that you are one of the best country.” Browne blushed slightly at the unexpected praise. “Well…I…”he stuttered. “This job I’m about to offer you,” Snidefish interrupted, “is one of such secrecy that you can tell no-one of your involvement, not even your friends or your family. If you choose to reject the job after I give you the details, I will be forced to wipe your memory of this conversation. Do you understand?” Browne nodded, stunned. “Harry Potter has been induced into a coma, the cause of which is unknown.” Browne gasped, but Snidefish pressed on. “We need you to investigate the cause and ultimately revive him. You will be given your own private ward in a secret location, with your own private quarters and with state of the art equipment. You will also be handsomely paid. But, I cannot stress enough the importance of secrecy.” “Wow…I,” Browne stuttered, his mind spinning. “If I were to accept, when would I begin?” “Immediately.” “Wow, er…I dunno. This is all a bit sudden.” “I need a decision now, Browne,” Snidefish said warningly, producing a piece of paper and a quill from mid-air with his wand. Browne looked down at the piece of paper to see a detailed contract before him. “All of the details are there, Browne. You may read it briefly, then I will need your decision.” Browne scanned the document, his heart beating rapidly. It was filled with legal jargon, most of which he couldn’t understand. His mind was racing. Could he really make such a big decision so quickly? What would his wife think? But then again, he could really make a difference. Browne was shocked to hear what had happened to Harry Potter. The young man deserved better after everything he had done for the wizarding world. Maybe he could help. While reading the document, Browne noticed one phrase that was repeated constantly: ‘complete secrecy.’ “Surely he must have friends who know of his condition?” Browne asked, looking up at Snidefish, who now had an impatient air about him. Snidefish leaned forward in his chair. “His condition remains unknown to the wizarding world. His one remaining family member is the only one who knows. And it is imperative that this remains the case.” Browne nodded rapidly and looked back down at the contract again. After a few moments: “I’ll do it,” he said, picking up the quill. However as he wrote his name in his usual untidy scrawl, a strange sensation ran up his arm and all over his body. He finished his signature before looking up at Snidefish with a frown. “What was that?” he asked, pushing the contract across the table. Snidefish smiled a well-practiced, disarming smile. “Just the magic of the contract taking effect,” he said, offering Browne his hand. “Welcome aboard.” Everything was grey, a pure dull grey. Colourless, odourless, tasteless. Boring. Harry Potter turned his head, trying to find something worth looking at, but nothingness was all that was before him. Frustrated, Harry began walking forward, his arms outstretched for protection, but nothing impeded his movement. As he progressed he noticed how deafening the silence was. Even his footsteps were silent. This frustrated Harry even further. He wanted to see, he wanted to hear, he wanted to feel. He ploughed onward, quickening his pace. He could feel his pulse quicken and his breathing deepen, but heard nothing. He started to run. Running felt good. His limbs that had started off stiff were loosening, and his heart, which had been beating lazily, now pulsated, forcing blood through his veins as if it now had a purpose. As Harry’s bare legs propelled him forward, he noticed how his surroundings were changing. The grey and lifeless expanse was morphing into new shapes, becoming more distinct. Looking forward towards the horizon Harry could make out a strange shape. Squinting, he noticed it was…purple, and moving. Encouraged Harry ran onwards. As he progressed, the moving purple speck was joined by a green one, then a blue one, then yellow, then black. Soon hundreds of specks of moving colours surrounded him mixing and morphing together, bringing his surroundings to life. Harry smiled. He was getting close. Sound followed colour. He heard the soles of his bare feet slap the cold, hard surface beneath him. He heard his heavy breathing and his heart pumping. He let out a hearty laugh that reverberated all around him. It was wonderful. Next came smell and taste. This was not as pleasant. A harsh smell of cleaning chemicals assaulted his nostrils causing his eyes to water. His mouth became leathery and dry with the distinct taste of ash on his tongue. Harry continued forward warily now. All was not well ahead of him. He stepped forward slowly, noticing with each step how much stronger each sensation became. Then suddenly he felt a push from behind and he opened his eyes…and he screamed. His mind was assaulted with colour and noise. First he saw a younger version of himself in a cramped and spider-infested cupboard. Then a flash of bright light and suddenly he was in a large hall filled with hundreds of children his age and older. Another bright flash and he was in a warm, cosy armchair by a roaring fire, then another flash and he was in a strong embrace with a gruffly man that was around his height and felt familiar, then he was in a softer, more loving embrace with a girl with flowing, radiant red hair that felt even more familiar, then he was cold, battle-worn and facing a horrible, snake-like figure in front of him that was laughing menacingly at him. It was all too much, his head felt as if it was about to explode. He screamed for help but he heard nothing. He saw nothing. His eyes rolled back in his head and everything went black. “Well Doris, I better get back,” said Dr Browne, glancing at his watch. “My lunch break is over.” “Yes of course Edward,” the old woman replied. “I apologise for keeping you so long. Have a good day. Oh, and do say hello to Margery and little Grace for me. They are such lovely people.” Dr Browne smiled kindly. “I will. Goodbye Doris, your cough should disappear within the next few days if you keep taking your potions. If it doesn’t, Floo me again and I’ll be right over.” Doris beamed toothily at him, “So very kind. Bye-bye now.” With a parting wave Dr Brown walked down the steps from the old Georgian house and onto the street. Glancing at his watch again he realised his break had ended five minutes ago. He wasn’t worried however, it was only a five minute walk back to the ward. After walking along a busy street in Muggle London, he took a left onto a discreet side-street where he reached a green iron door which was rusting along the edges. After making sure no one was around he pulled his wand from his pocket and tapped the door twice before giving the password. Stepping inside he closed the door behind him with a bang and then stopped in his tracks. What was that noise? Illuminating the lights with a flick of his wand, he walked down the narrow corridor towards the hospital room. Then he heard it again, a noise like a strangled scream. His heart racing he ran the remaining distance to the room and what he saw through the glass window made his heart stop. Harry Potter, his patient that has been in a coma for the last three years, was lashing out and screaming. “Merlin’s Beard!” Browne exclaimed, throwing off his cloak and dashing into the room. He whipped out his wand and muttered a slow, melodious incantation that had a soothing effect on Harry, stopping his screaming and lashing and slowing his rapidly beating heart. When Harry had calmed into a light doze, Browne waved his wand bringing up his charts. Harry was awake. There was no doubting that. His cognitive activity was off the charts. Taking a deep breath, Browne calmed himself. He knew what he had to do now. He summoned himself a small wooden chair and sat beside Harry, raised his wand an inch or so above Harry’s head and began to murmur a restoration charm, re-invigorating his body. Keeping his hand steady, he slowly waved his wand over each and every part of Harry’s body. After a few moments Harry began to stir. Browne turned to place his wand on the desk behind him, before turning back around to see a pair of bright green eyes looking up at him. “Hello Mr. Potter,” Browne said slowly and softly. “My name is Doctor Browne. Can you hear me okay?” Harry nodded slowly, looking bewildered. Encouraged, Browne continued. “Good. I’m here to help you Mr. Potter, and I need you to do a few things for me. I would like you to shake your head for me please.” Harry did as he was told. “Good. Can you speak for me?” Harry let out a small croaky groan. “Good.” Raising up three fingers, Browne asked: “Can you tell me how many fingers I am holding up?” Harry croaked again before uttering a barely audible: “th-three.” Browne smiled encouragingly. “Good Mr. Potter, very good. Now I would like you to raise an arm for me please.” Harry did so. “Good. And the other one please.” Harry rolled his eyes but did as he was told. He was getting bored. “Excellent. Now let’s try your legs.” “Sc-screw this,” Harry croaked. He began to move his arms beneath him in an attempt to raise himself up from the bed, groaning from the effort. Browne grabbed an arm to stop him. “Now Mr. Potter we don’t want to rush things. You’ve been asleep for a long time.” Harry shrugged Browne off him with a grunt before propping himself up on the bed, panting from the effort. Browne watched on as Harry tried to catch his breath. “Okay Mr. Potter. Please don’t rush this. Reawakening the body after such a long period of comatose is a very delicate process.” Harry frowned. “Comatose?” he said, his voice stronger than before. “What do you mean…?” Harry’s eyes widened with realisation. “I-Ive been in a coma? B-but yesterday I…we…How long? How long have I been out?” Browne averted his gaze. “It doesn’t matter. What’s most important is that you are awake. Now can-“ Harry cut across him. “How long have I been out,” he demanded, grabbing Browne’s arm. “Tell me.” “Mr. Potter plea-“ “TELL ME!” Harry bellowed. “Th-three years,” Browne spluttered, shocked by the outburst. “Three…three years?” Harry said, his voice barely above a whisper. “Three years?” Browne could see Harry was trying to process the information just thrown at him. Browne had to keep him calm. “I know this is a great shock to you Mr. Potter bu-“ Harry interrupted him again. “Three years. It can’t be…” Harry felt his pulse quicken and his head spin. ‘Three years!’ Harry thought to himself. ‘I can’t have been asleep for three years. This doctor is mental. Yeah that’s it. He’s a complete nutter. I’ve got to get out of here.’ Harry swung his legs off the bed and made to stand up. “Mr. Potter please, sit down,” Browne said, he himself standing up from his chair. “Leave me alone,” Harry said, swaying on his feet. “You’re lying.” “I’m not lying. Please Mr. Potter, sit down. You’re not ready to walk yet. You’ve been in a coma for three years!” “STOP SAYING THAT!” Harry shouted, jabbing his finger fiercely at the healer. His head hurt, the room was still spinning but he had to get away from this nutter. He tried to take a step forward but he swayed dangerously and only remained upright because Browne grabbed him to stop him falling. “Gerroffme,” Harry mumbled as he tried to push Browne away from him, but he was too weak, his arms too stiff. Browne pushed Harry back onto the bed before taking out his wand. “Mr. Potter please stay seated or I will have to stun you. It’s not safe for you to move about yet.” Ignoring Browne’s warning Harry made to stand again, but Browne was too quick. A quick stupefy spell had Harry flat on his back on the bed. Browne took a calming breath and wiped the sweat from his brow. He hadn’t expected such a struggle. He returned to his seat and counted to ten to calm himself before reviving Harry. Harry’s eyes fluttered open. He looked warily at Browne. “I’m sorry Mr. Potter, but it had to be done. I know how much of a shock this must be for you.” Harry blinked before replying. “S-so it’s true? I’ve been in…in a coma? For three years?” Browne nodded solemnly. Harry took a shaky breath. “And-and Voldemort?” He spluttered past the growing lump in his throat. “Dead. You won. We won.” The tears fell freely down Harry’s pale cheeks as a torrent of emotions battled inside him. Relief at being alive, delight at the death of Voldemort, despair at losing three years of his life. Three years!? The room began to spin again. Sensing Harry’s rising panic Browne grabbed his arm and talked soothingly to him, only stopping when Harry had visibly calmed. After five minutes of silence, Harry asked: “Now what?” “Well,” Browne said slowly, “we build up your strength. Your coma was induced by the most severe case of magical exhaustion I have ever seen. Magical exhaustion occurs when someone’s magical reserves are so critically low the body shuts itself down in order to protect its magical core. Usually magical exhaustion can result in a coma that may last for a month or two, but three years…it’s unprecedented. I don’t know how long it will take for your body to recover completely.” Harry nodded. Browne’s heart went out to the poor boy. He had sacrificed himself for the good of the magical world and this was how he was repaid. “I want you to know Mr. Potter that I am eternally grateful for what you have done for us all and I vow to help you recover as quickly as possible.” Harry nodded. “Thanks.” “Okay. If you could sit up straight for me I can begin the necessary tests to assess your strength.” The following twenty minutes consisted of Harry waving his limbs about in a number of strange ways while Dr Browne prodded him with his wand. By the end of it all, Harry was exhausted. “One last test before you can rest Mr. Potter.” Browne handed him a small, black wand. “I’m afraid your own wand was never recovered from the battle, so this will have to do for now. Would you just try a simple levitation spell on my quill that’s lying on my desk there?” Harry nodded wearily. He aimed at the quill that was three metres in front of him and muttered “Wingardium Leviosa.” Nothing happened. Frowning, Harry tried again. “Wingardium Leviosa.” Again, nothing happened. Harry cursed under his breath, embarrassed that he was failing to cast such a simple spell. Standing up straight he pointed purposefully at the quill and said, in a loud and clear voice: “WIngardium Leviosa.” Nothing happened. “What the hell!” Harry exclaimed, looking worriedly at Dr Browne who was frowning. Browne looked encouragingly at Harry. “Not to worry Mr. Potter,” he said, taking the wand from Harry and ushering him back to the bed. “You’re exhausted after all of the tests today and you’re using a wand you are not familiar with. We’ll try again tomorrow and I’m sure we will get a different result. What is important now is that you get plenty of rest. I will be here all night; I have my own private quarter’s next door should you need me.” Harry nodded before it occurred to him. He hadn’t a clue where he was. With everything that he was told today, he had never really thought about it. “Dr Browne?” “Yes?” “Where are we?” “A private ward where you can get the best care in peace.” Harry nodded before climbing into the bed. “Goodnight Mr. Potter. Call me if you need me.” There was no response. Harry was already asleep. Sighing with tiredness, Browne shut the door quietly behind him and went to his private room next door. He had stopped using it after it became clear, as the months passed, that Harry wasn’t going to wake up any time soon. He went straight to the fireplace that stood in the centre of the back wall of the basically decorated room and grabbed a handful of Floo powder. He had to tell the Minister of the recent developments. He checked his watch before thrusting the powder into the fireplace, hoping the Minister would still be in his office despite the late hour. Sticking his head into the blue flames he saw an ornate office materialise in front of him. “Hello?” He called. “Minister Snidefish, are you there?” “Hello?” a female voice called back. A petite woman with wavy blonde hair walked into the office. “Hi. I’m Doctor Browne, is the Minister here? I need to speak with him.” The woman, who appeared to be the Minister’s secretary, looked at him sceptically. “Do you have an appointment? I’m afraid the Minister has retired to his home for the evening.” “No appointment, but this is incredibly urgent. Tell the Minister that Dr Edward Browne has important news, he’ll understand.” The woman nodded and Browne retreated from the fireplace back into his room. After making himself a mug of steaming hot cocoa, Browne checked his watch, yawning. It was late and he was exhausted. He looked around his quarters. He hoped he wouldn’t have to stay here long as it was only fitted with the bare necessities: a small bedroom fitted with a bed and wardrobe to the right of the room, and a makeshift kitchen complete with stove, kettle, sink and fridge. There was a small, rather dirty bathroom, and that was it. Browne took a sip of cocoa and shook his head. There were no windows, so the only light source came from dimly lit oil lamps dotted randomly on the bare, white walls. He feared he may lose his sanity if he was forced to stay in this room too long, such was the dreariness of the décor. Browne raised the mug to his lips once again when there was a loud knock on the door. “Browne, it’s me,” the Minister of Magic barked. Browne placed his mug down and rushed forward to open the door. The Minister strode in, glanced around quickly and then turned his attention to the doctor: “What is so urgent Browne? Has the patient’s situation deteriorated?” he asked, piercing the doctor with his cold, hard stare. “No sir. It is nothing of the sort,” Browne said, swelling with pride at being able to tell the Minister the good news. “He’s awake sir. Harry Potter is awake.” The Minister’s grey eyes bulged in their sockets. “What!” he half-shouted. “He can’ be…” Without waiting for further explanation he strode from the room towards where Harry was sleeping, with Browne in tow. He glanced through the window into the room to see Harry tossing and turning and muttering in his sleep. “Merlin’s beard,” the Minister exclaimed, his eyes going wide. Browne smiled at him. “It is great news, isn’t it sir?” The Minister didn’t appear to hear him. He stood stock still, staring in what looked like horror at Harry who had now begun to thrash about slightly, obviously enduring a particularly unpleasant nightmare. The Minister cursed under his breath and began to pace up and down the corridor, frantically muttering to himself and running his hand through his usually well kept hair. “Sir?” Browne asked, puzzled by the Minister’s reaction. Once again the Minister didn’t appear to hear him. He was now muttering and pacing at such speed and volume that Browne thought he looked slightly…crazed. “Sir, will I wake Harry up so you can speak with him?” This caught the Minister’s attention. “NO!” he shouted, with such ferocity it caused Browne to take a step back in shock. “He mustn’t know, no one can know.” “Sir?” Browne asked tentatively. “I don’t understand.” The Minister whipped out his wand and jabbed it menacingly at the doctor’s throat. “TELL NO ONE!” he bellowed, his face inches from Browne’s so that Browne could see the wild fury in his eyes. “NO ONE CAN KNOW, DO YOU UNDERSTAND?” “Y-yes s-sir,” Browne spluttered, terrified of the menacing ex-Auror that stood in front of him. The Minster stood back, lowered his wand and asked in a dangerously soft voice: “How are Margery and the kids, Browne?” Browne looked confusedly up at the imposing man. “F-fine.” “Good, I’m glad to hear it,” Snidefish replied, smiling menacingly. “If you want them to stay that way Browne, I recommend you do exactly what I say. Tell no one of what happened here today, do you understand? Browne nodded. “I’ll be back soon to deal with this situation. Until then, stay here and look after our patient. Okay?” Browne nodded again. With one last menacing glare, the Minister departed. Heaving a great sigh of relief, Browne lowered himself to the ground and raised shaking hands to his head. What was he going to do? He wouldn’t risk his family’s safety, he just wouldn’t. But Browne shuddered to think what was meant by the Minister when he said he would ‘deal with this situation’. Based on the Minister’s reaction, he knew it couldn’t be good. |
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