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SIYE Time:7:09 on 29th March 2024
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Comatose
By RwriterR

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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: 64217; Chapter Total: 4151
Awards: View Trophy Room




Author's Notes:
Hi all. I hope you enjoy this next installment. Please leave a review if you get the chance.




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The ground shook and Sirius’ ears were assaulted with a cacophony of human screams, giant’s roars and the explosions of spells. The noise did not distract him however, his mission was too important. It was personal. He crouched low, ensuring his feet were covered by the invisibility cloak that hid him from nearby foes. He listened hard, trying to discern from the torrent of noise anything that may help him locate his target. He heard screams as spells hit flesh and life left bodies. He heard cries of despair as loved ones were lost. Then he heard her. A shrill, maniacal cackle of laughter that caused his insides to burn and bubble with hatred. The laugh of a psychotic murderer who relished causing the pain and death of others. The laugh of Bellatrix Lestrange, his cousin.

His hand tightened around his wand and he set off, following the sound of the laugh that bounced off the walls of the crumbling castle. He rushed past body-strewn floors and blood-splattered walls until he found himself on the seventh floor corridor, just outside of the Room of Requirement. The door to the room where they had gathered two days previously had been blasted apart and badly burnt. Glancing inside he saw the charred remains of old school books, furniture and what sickeningly looked like a human corpse. Shaking his head to rid himself of that image he ploughed onward, struggling to maintain footing due to the mass amounts of rubble that littered the ground.

He heard the laugh again. It was much closer this time. He ran forward, round a corner and spotted her, just in time to see her shout “Avada Kedavra!” and see her victim, who could not yet have been of age, crumple before her. She laughed again.

This was his chance. He could rid the wizarding world of one of the most feared murderers ever to have lived. All he had to do was aim and shoot, she wouldn’t even see who had hit her.

‘No,’ Sirius thought to himself. ‘It’s not enough.’ He wanted her to see that it was her own flesh and blood that was her downfall.

He stepped forward and whipped off the cloak, just as she turned to face him. Sirius took some satisfaction at the shocked expression that briefly flashed across her gaunt face. Then he narrowed his eyes in concentration. He needed to focus if he was going to come out of this duel alive.

“Ah, if it isn’t ickle Sirius Black, my beloved cousin,” Bellatrix spat, her words dripping with contempt. “Aren’t you very brave to come and face me? Or are you looking for a quick exit? You’ve never been one for a fight, have you Sirius?”

Sirius bristled at her words. She knew exactly what to say to rile him.

“I’m surprised to see you here, dear cousin,” she drawled. “You’ve been hiding away for so long, haven’t you? Too scared to step outside of that little hovel you call home.”

“I stayed in Grimmauld Place on Dumbledore’s orders!” Sirius spat.

“Oh, Dumbledore’s orders. Oh well yes of course, he was always ever so wise was our friend Dumbledore. Pity he’s dead eh? There is no one for you to hide behind now, you pathetic excuse for a Gryffindor!”

Sirius had heard enough. “Stupefy!” he bellowed.

Bellatrix blocked his spell with a lazy flick of her wand. “Come on dear cousin, surely you can do better than that? Crucio!” she cried. Sirius had to dive out of the way to dodge her spell.

The fight was on.

They cast, dodged and dove with such speed their clothes were just a blur. Bellatrix was undoubtedly the more skilled duelist, yet Sirius’ pure anger and determination kept him alive.

Sirius dove to the ground, dodging the killing curse that sailed inches above his head. He cast a stunning spell that Bellatrix dodged. Before she could strike again, however, a large explosion caused one of the walls to collapse inward, blowing them both backwards off their feet.

His ears ringing, Sirius pushed himself to his feet, groaning with the effort. Squinting through the dust he could see Bellatrix do the same.

“You will die,” she screeched, no longer as confident as she was, “like my poor niece and her werewolf husband. What was his name? Lupin?”

Sirius’ eyes went wide. ‘Remus? He…he can’t be dead!’

“You lie!” he shouted.

Bellatrix gasped in mock horror. “Oh no! He was a friend of yours, wasn’t he? Oh how sad. I’ll just have to send you to join him then. Avada Kedavra!”

Sirius spun to the right, dodging her spell and firing his own. More spells were exchanged with each of them tiring, their spell work and aim becoming sloppy. Sirius’ confidence was diminishing. She was too strong. He tiredly dove to his right avoiding yet another killing curse. Sirius could hear shouts and approaching footsteps, but were they friend or foe?

BANG! A huge explosion burst through the wall to his left, throwing him hard against the opposite one. His head spinning, he watched in horror as the wall crumbled, exposing the corridor to the outside. Hearing a groan he turned to see Bellatrix stumble to her feet, blood pouring from a gash on her head. This was his chance. He jumped to his feet, swayed slightly and pointed his wand at his cousin. She turned unfocused eyes at him, raised her wand but was too slow.

“Stupefy!” he bellowed. The jet of red light hit Bellatrix square in the chest, throwing her body through the gap where the wall had been.

Sirius turned away, not wanting to see his cousins’ body plummet to the ground below, despite the woman she was.
He took a deep breath in an attempt to steady his shaking hands. He should be happy, shouldn’t he? He didn’t feel happy though. He just felt…tired. Another magical life lost.

He shook his head. He couldn’t dwell on this now. He needed to find Harry. He had told his nephew to stay with Ron and Hermione to help defend The Great Hall. They had slowly been clearing the main areas of the Castle of Death Eaters and were certainly holding their own since Neville, that brilliant boy, had killed Voldemort’s snake, which, according to Harry at least, was significantly important.

Sirius turned and ran back the way he had come, bounded down the staircases and came to a halt in The Great Hall. What met his eyes shocked him. The fighting had stopped and the doors to the Hall had been barricaded shut. Bodies were being moved into organised rows, the dead on one side of the hall the injured on the other. Sirius glanced around at the corpses with a sense of dread, hoping against hope that his best friend was not among them. Despair tore at his heart as he saw boys and girls, barely of age, lying lame and limp in their weeping parent’s arms. Swallowing passed the lump in his throat, he continued onwards, his eyes sweeping along the rows. Then he saw him. His only remaining friend that he had known since he was eleven years old lay limp, pale and broken before him. A howl of anguish escaped his lips as he sank to his knees beside his old friend. Tears spilled down his dirt-encrusted cheeks as he remembered everything they had been through since childhood. From laughing at James’ cockiness to standing up for that bastard Pettigrew they had always been on the same side. Even after years without contact, Remus had been the first one to trust him after he had escaped from Azkaban. They had always had each other’s back. Until now. Sirius’ eyes wandered to the person lying to his left. Nymphadora Tonks, his cousin that he had barely had time to get to know lay lifeless beside his old friend. It was somewhat…fitting. They belonged together, though Sirius had imagined them together in life, not in death. Forcing back his tears, he rose to his feet. There would be time to grieve later. There was still a war to be won.

He felt a stab of panic. He had to find Harry. Looking around he saw a flash of red hair and ran towards it. It was Ron.

“Ron! Ron! Where’s Harry?”

Ron span round, his eyes puffy and his face tear-stained. “Sirius! Where have you been?”

Sirius’ stomach plummeted as he remembered Fred. He grasped Ron’s shoulders. “Be strong Ron. There will be time to
grieve later.”

Ron just nodded.

“Have you seen Harry?”

Ron frowned. “He was with you wasn’t he?”

Sirius shook his head worriedly.

“H-He’s gone!” someone cried from behind him.

Sirius spun around. “Hermione! Where’s he gone?”

Hermione sobbed. “I s-saw h-him. He r-ran off into the Forbidden F-Forest before I could stop him. He’s gone after V-Voldemort.”

“He’s what!” Sirius bellowed, drawing the attention of several others in the Hall. He turned and made to run but was stopped by someone calling his name.

“Mr Black!”

Sirius turned to see Aerys Snidefish striding towards him. Even to Sirius he looked impressive. His mane of grey hair that fell to his shoulders and his cold, hard eyes exuded battle-hardened experience.

“I will accompany you,” the Auror said. “You’ll need the back-up.”

Sirius nodded his agreement.

“We’ll come too,” said Ron and Hermione in unison.

“You’ll do nothing of the sort,” Sirius said sternly. “You’ll stay here and defend the wounded. The Death Eaters are regrouping. They’ll be back and you’ll be needed to hold the defences when they return.”

Ron and Hermione nodded their agreement reluctantly.

With a nod to Aerys they lowered the magical barricades and left the Hall, making sure to raise them again. Sirius covered himself with Harry’s invisibility cloak and Snidefish hid himself with a powerful disillusionment charm before setting off for the Forest. They strode alongside each other in a purposeful silence, working hard to avoid the skirmishes that continued in the grounds. They came to a halt on the outskirts of the forest and listened hard. They could hear a pair of approaching footsteps. They stood still and turned in the direction of snapping twigs and could see two hooded figures approaching. With a flash of their wands Sirius and Aerys felled the two Death Eaters and continued pressing speedily onward, trying to stay as quiet as they could.

Suddenly there was a violent explosion deep within the forest. A rush of energy shot through the dense trees, breaking branches and bending trunks, buffeting Sirius and Snidefish backwards. Sirius’ heart shot into his mouth. That had to have been Harry. Without uttering a word he sprinted forward towards the source of the explosion, Snidefish following close behind him. Finally they reached the clearing. Two bodies lay in a crater before them, metres apart.

“Harry!” Sirius bellowed, flinging himself at his godson. “NO! No no no no.” He cried. He could feel his heart tearing into pieces. The very last person he loved was dead. He had lost everyone.

“Wait.” He said, more to himself than anyone else. Sirius could hear short, sharp breaths. “Wait. He…he’s breathing! Aerys he’s breathing! Harry wake up!” He slapped his godson’s face lightly. “Harry! C’mon son. Wake up!”

Harry didn’t stir.

Panic began to set in again. Sirius fumbled for his wand. “Renervate!” Nothing happened. “RENERVATE!” Harry remained lifeless. “Aerys help. He won’t wake up!”

Aerys, who had been inspecting the charred corpse of Voldemort ran to his side.

“Stand back,” he said importantly. Sirius got out of his way.

The Auror performed a series of spells, each as ineffective as the last. He paled visibly.

“Aerys?” Sirius asked shakily. “What’s wrong with him? Why won’t he wake?”

“I-I don’t know,” the Auror said, running a shaky hand through his hair. “This is not good,” he muttered to himself.

“Aerys?”

Snidefish turned to face Sirius, and Sirius didn’t like the look he saw in the Auror’s eyes. He looked…crazed.
“No one must know.”

“What?” Sirius spluttered.

“The Ministry can offer Harry the best medical attention available, full round-the-clock care by the best doctors in the world. We have already lost the support of the nation. The public no longer trusts us and the only person keeping this country together is Harry Potter. But if it got out that Harry Potter was dead, even if Voldemort was killed in the process, the Ministry would crumble and magical Britain would descend into chaos. I will not allow the Ministry’s reputation be tarnished beyond repair.”

Sirius looked suspiciously at the Auror. “What are you asking of me?” he asked slowly.

“Swear to me that you will tell no one, I mean no one, about what has happened to him. If you do this for me, I promise to give Mr Potter second to none medical attention that will give him the best chance of survival.”

Sirius looked down at his godson, pale, injured, broken. His sharp shallow breaths gave Sirius the impression that he was clinging on to life. He didn’t have much time. He couldn’t lose the last person he loved. His last connection to his best friend. He just couldn’t. He raised glistening eyes to Aerys.

“People will notice he’s missing. He’s Harry Potter for Merlin’s sake.”

“I will deal with the details. Do we have a deal?”

Snidefish offered his hand. With some hesitation, Sirius took it. Snidefish grabbed hold of Sirius’ wrist with his other hand and yanked it close to him.

“What the hell are you doing?!”

After muttering a few words in a language Sirius didn’t understand, Snidefish released him. “The contract is agreed, bound by old magic. It is binding until death.”


***



“NO!” Sirius bellowed. He bolted upright gasping for breath. He looked around frantically, his eyes slow to adjust to the darkness of his bedroom. His heart rate slowed as he realised where he was. He frowned to himself, he hadn’t had that dream in over a year. Slowly he pushed himself into a standing position, but immediately regretted it. His vision spun and his stomach heaved violently. He sprinted into the bathroom next door, knocking over several empty firewhiskey bottles on the way, flung himself at the toilet bowl and emptied his stomach.

After several moments Sirius stood upright again and wiped his mouth on his sleeve. He stank of stale alcohol and his head felt as if it was about to explode. He hoped he still had a few Hangover Potions left to take. He stumbled down the stairs as he routinely did every morning after his nightly visit to the local bar, which now saw him as one of their most regular customers. Upon reaching the kitchen, Sirius flung open one of the cupboards, pushed the empty bottles of butterbeer aside and cursed under his breath. He was all out.

Taking out his wand he did a passable cleansing spell on himself and left for the local wizarding pharmacy, one of the only magical shops that bothered to locate in Muggle London. A short five minute walk brought him to the small shop that was hidden away down a dingy side street.

“The usual?” the pharmacist asked Sirius as he approached the counter.

Sirius just nodded and the pharmacist handed him five bottles of hangover potion, the maximum one could buy at a given time.

“You shouldn’t drink so much,” the pharmacist warned, as he did every time Sirius appeared in his shop.

Sirius gave him the same reply as he always did as he handed over the money. “You shouldn’t have stopped selling me those sleeping potions then. How else do you expect me to sleep?”

“You were becoming reliant on them.”

Sirius just shrugged and made his way out of the shop.

A further five minutes later and he was back home again. He drank one potion (immediately feeling the better for it) and placed the other four in the cupboard. Yawning, Sirius considered returning to bed, when a noise from the living room caught his attention. Frowning, he approached the room curiously, the noise amplifying as he approached. He pushed the door open slowly and peered inside.

“Sirius?” a voice called from the fireplace.

Sirius jumped in shock. He hadn’t recieved a Floo call in a long time.

“Y-Yes. Who are you?”

“It’s me, Edward. Edward Browne. Don’t you remember me?”

“Oh! Edward! Of course!” Sirius said, recognition dawning on his face. He went over and knelt in front of the fire. “How are you old friend?”

Sirius’ mind ran back to when they had met in school. Edward had been a Ravenclaw in the year below him. One day in Sirius’ sixth year he had managed to stop Snivellus and his gang of Death Eater friends from cursing Edward in the corridor by demonstrating some of his renowned Gryffindor bravery. In return, Browne had gotten him out of a tight spot with Professor Flitwick, Ravenclaw’s Head of House. Browne had been one of Flitwick’s best students and had convinced the Charms professor not to punish Sirius for levitating Snape around the classroom during one of their charms lessons.

They had become friendly with each other from that moment on. However they lost touch after Sirius left Hogwarts, only to be reunited three years ago when Browne had been named head doctor in Harry’s recovery effort. In all honesty, after it became clear Harry was unlikely to recover, Sirius had pushed his godson and Browne from his mind in an effort to relieve himself of the emotional pain, so to say Sirius was surprised to see the doctor in his living room fire would have been an understatement.

“I’m perfectly well Sirius,” Browne said, “Which is more than can be said for you, by the looks of things,” he added sternly.

Sirius shrugged. “I’m fine, just a bit hungover is all. Nothing a few potions can’t fix.”

However Browne didn’t appear to be listening. He seemed agitated, blinking rapidly and turning his head around as if he was nervously checking over his shoulder.

“Sirius,” he said gravely, turning back around to face him. “I can’t speak long. I have news. Harry is awake.”

“HE’S WHAT!” Sirius shouted, jumping to his feet. “He’s…he’s awake?!”

Browne nodded. “He’s awake but greatly confused and distressed, as one would expect after being in a coma for such an extended period of time.”

“That’s bloody brilliant!” Sirius exclaimed, pure joy on his face. He had resigned to losing his godson long ago, and had even stopped visiting him around a year ago to save himself from the gnawing guilt and disappointment he felt after every visit. It was his fault for leaving Harry and going after Bellatrix, his fault Harry had almost died. His fault Harry has missed three years of his life. The guilt gnawed away at him, day after day, week after week, month after month…year after year. It almost killed him one night when he nearly drank himself to death in an attempt to drown the inexorable guilt that plagued him. Sirius shook his head. But he was awake! He felt the happiest he had been in years.

“But there’s a problem Sirius,” Browne warned. “Snidefish.”

“What does that asshole want?” Sirius snarled. “Lying, cheating bastard. I’d have never agreed if I knew he was just trying to further his own career. He never truly believed Harry would recover.”

“He threatened me, Sirius.” Browne said, slightly panicked. “He threatened my family. He told me to tell no one if I wanted to see them again. There is no one I can turn to Sirius. Snidefish controls everyone in the Ministry. He has supporters everywhere, and has dirt on the people who matter. I had to tell you after everything you have been through, but my family!”

Sirius nodded in understanding, passion burning in his eyes. “Thank you for telling me Edward. You don’t know how much this means to me, and I won’t see your family punished for your kindness. You must get them out of England. Is there anywhere abroad you can take them?”

Browne thought for a few moments, before nodding. “Yes. My wife has an aunt who lives in France, I can send them there. But what about Harry?”

Sirius had spent the last few years of his life drowning in his own shame and guilt. Sirius had agreed to Snidefish’s offer because he couldn’t bear to lose Harry. But not only had he lost him, he had ruined his reputation. Snidefish had taken no time to use their agreement to his advantage. Firstly he claimed that Harry personally vouched for him to be appointed Minister for Magic. But he didn’t stop there. He kept creating lie after lie about Harry, his new life abroad, and how ‘The Boy Who Lived’ supported his cause. Harry’s name was being used as a marketing tool by the Minister. Every piece of legislation he proposed, every decision he made, an article in the paper was published claiming that Snidefish had Harry’s full support. Meanwhile Harry lay lifeless on a small hospital bed, receiving minimal medical attention in a hidden, dingy little ward in the middle of London. Sirius could do nothing to dispel the lies, and could only watch as the Weasleys and the rest of the friends Harry had made in the wizarding world cursed his name for abandoning them. The British public saw Harry as their leader and their guardian, so the stories of his move abroad were met with widespread hurt and disappointment. Britain’s saviour had left them.

In the weeks after The War, Sirius would visit the Weasleys regularly. He took comfort in their presence, and he was sure they felt likewise. Friends had to stick together in difficult times. But Sirius’ visits became less and less frequent as time passed. He began finding more comfort in a bottle of firewhiskey than he did from friends, and he couldn’t bear to answer any more questions about Harry. When the news of Harry’s ‘departure’ broke, he had been bombarded with questions from the heartbroken Weasleys and Hermione. Sirius had felt physically sick when he had repeated to them the same bullshit story that was printed in the Daily Prophet that morning. Sirius couldn’t keep lying to them, especially since the lies brought more pain into their lives; the Weasley family had suffered enough as it was, that was for sure.
So Siruis had extracted himself from their lives, and had fallen into a deep depression.

But he could make it right. Harry was awake! This was his chance. Sirius stood up to his full height and straightened his shoulders, his eyes filled with cold, hard determination.

“Don’t worry about Harry. I have a plan.”

His life had purpose again.
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