Chapter 70- Now you see me, Now you don't ( part 3)

"Hey."

Startled out of a light doze, Janet Wright yelped and sat straight up in her chair, nearly falling out of it in the process. Recovering, she glanced guiltily at the still form beside her, then gave her husband a sheepish smile. "Hey yourself."

Steve raised an eyebrow at her. "You should go to bed," he chided, coming over to stand behind her chair. "You're going to be miserable tomorrow."

Janet grimaced, knowing he was right, then closed her eyes and sighed contentedly when he reached out and began to gently massage her neck and shoulders. "You have five years to stop that, just in case you're wondering," she commented, leaning back into his hands.

"Might take that long to get you straightened out. You have a knot back here the size of my fist," Steve grumbled, gripping her shoulders more firmly and working the tense muscles with his thumbs. After a few minutes he stopped and dropped a kiss on the side of her neck. "Come on, babe, you're wiped. The kids are all sleeping now. We should get some rest while we can."

Janet sighed and crossed her arms. "I know," she acknowledged, but shook her head when he came around to face her, and tried to urge her to her feet. "I'll come to bed soon-I promise. I just...I just want to make sure everything's okay."

"Jannie..." Steve wiped a hand down the middle of his face then tried again. "Jannie, he's been sleeping for two solid hours now. Hasn't moved once."

"Yes, I know. That's what's worrying me," Janet admitted, leaning forward and reaching out a hand...yes. It was still there. Stronger, too. She didn't even have to touch Harry's skin now. The air above the mark on his forehead seemed to crackle and pulse with energy, like a magnetic field or a patch of static electricity. "Look at my arm. See how the hair's standing on end? There's something really weird going on here," she said, watching as Steve frowned and stretched out his hand to join hers, and smiling in spite of herself when he jerked back with a curse.

"What is that?" he asked, shaking his arm a bit before smoothing the hair back down.

Janet shook her head. "I don't know." Reaching out again, she thumbed open one of Harry's eyelids, trying not to shudder at his complete unresponsiveness. He might as well have been made of wax. Taking her hand back, she shrugged helplessly. "It's creepy...like he just isn't in there," she said, watching as Steve knelt by the mattress.

He extended a hand, as though to feel Harry's forehead, then hesitated and laid the back of his hand on Harry's cheek instead. Janet couldn't claim to be surprised. Steve had quite a bit more body hair than she did. He'd probably felt the tingle all the way to his toes.

"He's still warm."

"Yes, his fever still hasn't broken," Janet agreed, watching as Steve followed the path she had earlier-fingers going straight from Harry's face to his carotid artery.

"Nice strong pulse...even breathing...doesn't seem to be in pain..."

Janet nodded again. "His color's good, too, all things considered." She indicated her home medical guide which was laying on the floor by her chair. "The book gives a list of things to watch out for with prolonged unconsciousness, but they don't seem to apply in this case."

Steve sat back on his heels and looked up at her, a puzzled frown on his face. "Okay, I give up. Does he need to go to the hospital or not?"

That was the same question Janet had been asking herself over and over again. "I don't know, Steve. I don't even know if this is something a normal hospital could cope with."

"Well if there are magical pubs and schools there must be magical hospitals, too," Steve pointed out. "Maybe we should go ask Tom what to do."

"Do you think that didn't occur to me?" Janet snapped in annoyance. "I was going to go wake Tom and ask his advice, but that bird got all weirded out and wouldn't let me out of the room."

"Hedwig?"

"Yeah." Janet crossed her arms again and glanced reproachfully at the snowy owl. She was fully aware that the pose made her look like a pouting child, but at the moment she was beyond caring.

Hedwig was significantly calmer than she had been earlier, but Janet noted she was still watching them carefully, as though hanging on their every word. "I made the mistake of thinking out loud," she told Steve. "As soon as she knew what I was up to, she flew over and blocked the doorway. Wouldn't move until I promised not to go-stupid as that might sound."

She'd half expected Steve to laugh at her for allowing herself to be bullied by an owl, but he surprised her, rubbing at the short beard on jaw and taking the matter very seriously. "Maybe she's concerned about him being caught out in a public place-as himself, I mean, and not Jim," he suggested. "You saw what happened with that reporter in the Leaky Cauldron. These magical folk seem a tad high strung where their 'Boy Who Lived' is concerned."

Janet started to say that Steve was giving a bird an awful lot of credit, then reconsidered. Hedwig had been touchingly protective of Harry since her arrival, and barring that one instance, she hadn't interfered with either Steve or herself as they tried to tend to him. Magic was a factor here as well. Who was she to say that the owl wasn't capable of more complex thought processes?

"Could be," she finally admitted, deciding to focus on one thing at a time. "In the meantime I...well..." she faltered, coming back around to the reason she'd been sitting at Harry's bedside instead of catching some sleep in the first place. She wasn't sure she could adequately describe the "calm before the storm" sensation she was feeling, but it reminded her of the eerie silence that fell right before dark clouds boiled in, and the sky turned greenish black.

"I want to stay a little longer-just to be sure," she finally finished. "Why don't you go get some sleep? God knows one of us is going to have to be alert tomorrow."

He squeezed her hand. "We'll manage. Want me to go put on the kettle?"

Janet nodded. A cup of tea sounded heavenly. "Thanks, sweetie," she said, smiling as he snapped her a jaunty salute and vanished into the hall. Once he was gone she regarded Hedwig again. "I'd feel better if someone looked at him, and I reserve the right to get medical assistance if he gets worse," she asserted pugnaciously, feeling ridiculous as she did so, then blinking in surprise. Did the owl just nod? She watched as Hedwig studied her closely, something like sympathy in her yellow eyes, before spreading her wings and fluttering through the doorway. Before Janet had a chance to wonder where she'd gone-or take advantage of her absence-she was back, with something clenched tightly in one talon.

"What do you have there?" Janet asked, trying not to flinch too noticeably when the owl landed on her lap. Hedwig was surprisingly gentle, though, gripping Janet's leg with minimal force, and balancing on one foot with practiced ease. When Janet finally registered what the bird was offering her, she almost laughed aloud. It was the small pad of paper and pen she kept near the downstairs phone.

Well, Tom did say wizards send messages by owl... Janet mused, taking the paper and pen from Hedwig with an automatic "thank you." The only problem was, she had absolutely no idea who to contact. Harry and Tom were the only wizards she knew. Surely she wasn't suggesting writing a letter to Tom...not after the way she'd acted. Besides it seemed silly when he was so close by.

Hedwig pecked at the paper, then flapped a wing at Harry.

"What? What do you want me to do?" she asked blankly, before the pieces clicked. I reserve the right to get medical assistance, she'd said. "Do you know someone I could contact to look him over? Someone safe?" she asked, relief overriding her annoyance when Hedwig looked at her like she was the class dunce. "Hey, cut me some slack, here," she complained, clicking the top of the pen to expose the writing point, "I've never done this before."

Sirius Black knelt across from Dumbledore, more frightened than he'd ever been in his life. Between them, Fawkes, the headmaster's phoenix, sang soft soothing notes as he tried to anchor Harry's ghostlike form.

Stifling a sigh, Sirius raked a hand through his hair. It was a good thing Arabella had met Remus and him at the door and held them back long enough to explain what they were about to see. First sight of Harry in his current state was bad enough with advance warning. Even the usually unflappable Remus Lupin had been unable to completely hide his horror and concern.

Sirius hadn't even tried. Seeing Harry there looking about as substantial as dandelion fluff had been off-putting to say the least.

Naturally, he'd wanted to know what the bloody hell was going on, but there hadn't been a lot of time for explanations. Harry had been finishing up a report on what Voldemort was up to when they'd arrived. The short of it was, Voldemort had selected alternate targets, and two homes were now at risk.

As soon as Dumbledore had an idea of what Voldemort's plan was, he'd immediately dispatched Moony and Mad-Eye to the Granger residence as a precautionary measure-a decision that left Sirius feeling jealous and guilty by turns. Mrs. Figg was put to work relaying all new information to the team at the Burrow via Order parchment. Respecting present company, Dumbledore had claimed Sirius was being kept behind for his own protection, but the animagus knew that wasn't the only reason. Harry very obviously needed someone right now.

So now they all found themselves in Sirius' least favorite place to be: sitting helplessly on the sidelines and waiting for any bit of news from those who were in the thick of things. Arabella grew fidgety and went to the kitchen to make tea, leaving the three wizards keeping their vigil by the fireplace.

Grimacing, Sirius glanced at his godson. He had no idea what to say or do. Already distraught about the Burrow, Harry hadn't taken the possible threat against Hermione very well at all. Before today, he hadn't known that ghosts could go paler, but somehow Harry had managed it.

Still, even as diminished as he was, Harry hadn't lost any of his fight. Rather like James in that regard, Sirius mused, a fond smile touching his lips. Once he'd gotten over the worst of his shock, Harry had turned to Fawkes and begged the bird to take him to Hermione's house so he could spread the alarm. Sirius wasn't exactly sure what the phoenix had said in reply, but judging from the bird's tone and the injured look on his godson's face, he reckoned the short version was "no" or perhaps more closely, "are you out of your bloody mind?"

Dumbledore had stepped in and put an end to that nonsense by sending the others to the Granger house instead.

Wait... Said? Sirius raised his eyebrows and glanced speculatively from the scarlet and gold phoenix to the older wizard across from him. Unsurprisingly, he found Dumbledore studying Harry as well, a thoughtful expression in his legendary blue eyes. He opened his mouth to ask what was going on, but Dumbledore caught his eye and ordered him to silence with a slightly raised hand and an almost imperceptible slight shake of his head. Later. Not now.

Finally sighing out loud, Sirius tried to put a hand on Harry's shoulder, catching himself with a startled yelp as his hand passed completely through the boy's insubstantial body. "Sorry," he said sheepishly, gladdened to see a flash of amusement, no matter how brief, appear in Harry's eyes. Harry had seemed okay in the beginning-a bit overexcited and see-through, maybe, but essentially all right. Now...

Now he wasn't looking so good.

Sirius regarded his godson again, hating that he was having such a hard time of it, and wishing there was something he could do to help. Initially, Harry had knelt in front of Arabella's fireplace, back straight, eyes alert, and stared into it with an intensity that was almost frightening. As time passed, the amount of effort he was expending became more and more obvious. Harry's attention was still riveted to the fireplace, almost as if he was trying force a firecall by the strength of his will alone, but his posture told a different tale. Now he was seated on the floor with his legs in a "W" position, back hunched, head drooping, and breath coming in little pants. Sirius reckoned he couldn't last much longer before toppling over completely, and wondered how on Earth he was going to catch him when he did.

Instinctively he tried to grasp Harry's hand, clenching his fist in frustration when his godson's intangible state made that quite impossible. In fact, the only creature present who was able to touch Harry was Fawkes. The phoenix had Harry by the wrist, and, according to Dumbledore, was literally holding him in place. He might even be lending the boy some of his own strength.

Fawkes also seemed well aware of Harry's distress, and was trying to soothe it in his own birdlike way, for which Sirius was grateful. Every now and then he would sing a fortifying note, gently groom Harry's untidy hair, or else nuzzle him with his beak.

Finally unable to stand the near silence anymore, Sirius asked his godson the question he was dying to know the answer to. "Harry? Is Wormtail among the Death Eaters at the Burrow?"

Harry slowly turned toward him and shook his head, a regretful look on his face. "He stayed behind...with Voldemort...and Professor Snape."

Dumbledore frowned at this. "You didn't mention Professor Snape, although I did wonder why he hadn't contacted us."

"He couldn't." Harry closed his eyes and seemed to marshal his resources. "Voldemort took his wand...and put him in a full body bind," he explained, the strain he was under showing clearly in his face and voice.

Dumbledore hesitated, as though gauging how far to push. When he finally spoke, it was clear he was preparing himself for bad news. "Are you saying Voldemort suspects Severus?"

Harry seemed to consider this, frowning a bit as he mulled it over. "Some of his Death Eaters do," he finally admitted, opening his eyes again.

If the situation hadn't been so potentially dire, Sirius would have laughed at Dumbledore's flabbergasted expression. "Why didn't you mention this before?" the headmaster demanded.

Harry shrugged as he turned to face the older wizard. "He's...safe enough, I think. Voldemort doesn't really want to kill him."

That makes him the only one, Sirius grumbled to himself.

"Besides...no one knew about the change of plan...and Snape's been silenced all this time," Harry pointed out with some effort. "Voldemort can't exactly blame the Order's arrival on him now...can he?"

"Professor Snape, Harry," Dumbledore corrected automatically, but Sirius didn't think he looked too fussed. It was hard for anyone to buy that stern "Headmaster" face when his eyes were twinkling like that.

"Yes, sir," Harry replied dutifully, turning to listen when Fawkes chirped at him in an oddly scolding way. "Fawkes says I need to shut up now if I want to stay," he translated, giving his companions an apologetic little half smile.

"You understand him?" Dumbledore asked, looking intrigued, then surprised when the phoenix turned on him, flapping his wings and screeching angrily.

"Really, Fawkes, it isn't as bad as all that," Harry tried to soothe the bird, earning a baleful glare and another scolding for his trouble.

"Arabella? Albus?" a voice called as the fireplace flared.

Shaklebolt! Sirius grinned eagerly. Finally!

"It's over," Kingsley reported, cutting immediately to the chase after returning Dumbledore's greeting. "The Burrow sustained some structural damage, but it should be fixable. More importantly, we managed to get the family out before anyone was hurt."

"Where is Minerva?" Dumbledore asked, obviously wondering why she hadn't been the one to make the call.

"Unconscious. The house was filled with some sort of anesthetic. It appears the Death Eaters' plan was to sedate everyone, including their Muggle accomplices, and burn the place down. Luckily, Minerva and Arthur used their Order portkeys and managed to get Ginny, Fred, and George out before they went under. Madam Pomfrey diagnosed the cause and got word back to us before anyone else fell victim to it."

"Was anyone else hurt?" Arabella called from the kitchen doorway. Shaklebolt shook his head.

"Not physically, though it looks like Voldemort tampered with the Muggles. We have some people trying to sort them out but it doesn't look promising. McGonagall, the Weasleys, and the Granger girl should sleep until morning. Professor Sprout is looking after them now."

Harry's head shot up at the mention of Hermione's name. Sirius gave him a reassuring look and addressed the Auror in the fireplace. "Kingsley, what's wrong with Hermione?"

"Her family was fetched as a precautionary measure so it didn't occur to her that the Weasleys had actually been attacked. She had a nasty shock when Remus portkeyed her and her family to the Hospital wing and she saw all the Weasleys unconscious. Professor Sprout gave her a mild Calming Draught. She probably slipped a few drops into the tea she served the parents as well. At any rate, they're all asleep now."

"Professor Sprout? Wait, where is Poppy?" Dumbledore asked with a frown.

"She got an urgent owl, that's all I know."

"I see. And the Death Eaters?"

Kingsley shrugged. "It wasn't much of a fight. If someone hadn't touched off the firebomb fluid Weasley would have escaped almost completely unscathed. We managed to catch a couple, but most of them were portkeyed out when we arrived. From the looks of them, they were mostly new recruits with maybe one or two senior members keeping an eye on them. They didn't appear to be expecting any resistence."

"Hmm, yes, well if we hadn't had a very timely warning, they probably wouldn't have gotten any," Dumbledore said, turning to smile proudly at Harry, then interrupting himself with a startled gasp.

Frowning, Sirius turned and immediately saw what the matter was.

Fawkes was collapsed on the floor already deeply asleep, and Harry was gone.

It is time, Fledgling. Farewell...

That was it. All the warning he'd been given. Before Harry even had time to process the statement, much less respond to it, the firebird opened his golden talons.

Once that occurred it had all been over. With nothing to anchor him and no chance to brace, Harry had found himself at the mercy of his overextended Astral link. When Fawkes let go it was akin to firing a catapult, or perhaps a crossbow. He'd been flung backwards with terrific force, flashing across the empty miles and slamming back into his body before he could even draw breath to shout.

"Harry?"

"What is it? Is he coming around?"

"I'm not sure...he jerked a little but doesn't seem to be seizing again. Harry?" the voice asked, sounding cautiously hopeful.

Shivering violently, Harry tried to respond, but couldn't manage more than a pathetic-sounding whimper. Now that the shock of impact was fading, he was becoming more and more aware of his own body. Or, more specifically, the level of discomfort he was experiencing. He ached all over and his head was splitting fit to burst. Worse yet, his comfortable bed which had been soft and warm before, was suddenly hard and cold. Beyond cold. Bloody freezing was more like it.

"Good! Keep talking to him. He seems to be responding to your voice."

"Okay... Harry? Sweetie? Can you hear me?"

Swallowing painfully, Harry managed a tiny nod, squeezing the hand that held his own as he fought to get his bearings. The aches and pains that seemed to ooze up from his very bone marrow were far more acute than they'd been before. It actually felt much closer to the Beaten-From-Head-To-Toe-Hurts-To-Even-Think feeling that followed multiple castings of-

"Crucio!"

Wha-? Harry sucked in an agonized gasp, feeling his back arch and his muscles clench as Voldemort's rage and frustration sizzled across their link. The connection was still open, fueled entirely by his enemy's wrath. He caught a quick impression of Voldemort stalking among his bedraggled, terrified followers, firing off blast after blast of punishing magic. Fools! Incompetents! Crucio! Dissendium! Crucio! Avada Kedavra!

"It's happening again!" the voice beside him snapped, seeming to address someone else, before returning its attention to him and speaking urgent encouragement in his ear again. "Hold on, sweetie, I'm right here. You're going to be all right. Just hang on..."

Making a sound like an animal in pain, Harry did just that, gripping the hand in his like a lifeline. A second later what felt like a numbing spell tingled mercifully across his sensitized skin.

"Steady, Mr. Potter, there's a good lad..."

Voldemort had an impressive capacity for anger, but even he couldn't remain angry forever. Gradually his fury diminished, leaving icy disappointment in its wake. Harry watched his enemy lower his wand and order his followers from his presence in tones of deepest disgust before the link finally failed, leaving him laying sore, freezing, and utterly spent in his unusually hard bed.

"Harry?" The voice sounded tearful now, and not so far away. "Come on, sweetie...you can do it..."

Harry swallowed again, still shuddering convulsively. This would never do. Tugging his hands free, he groped blindly about before wrapping both arms around himself in an effort to conserve warmth. "C-cold," he managed, unable to shake the feeling that something was not quite right here. Where on Earth were his blankets? "Hurts."

"I'm sure. Poor thing. You've had a hard night." Harry made an effort to open his eyes, and found himself looking into Janet's red-rimmed ones. She gave him a tearful smile before slipping an arm behind his shoulders and pulling him close. "Welcome back, sweetheart. Thank God...oh thank God..." she murmured, rocking him gently.

"May I take a look at him, dear?"

"Oh, of course! I'm sorry, doctor," Janet said, sounding rather abashed. She gave Harry a kiss on the temple and one last squeeze, then set him back against his rock-hard pillows with a little splash.

Wait.

Doctor?

Splash?

Oh, no. Oh, nonono.

"Why Mr. Potter, if I didn't know better, I'd swear you weren't happy to see me," Madam Pomfrey said, heating the bathwater with a wave of her wand. Hedwig sat on her shoulder with his Order portkey dangling from her beak.

Oh, God... Harry thought with a mortified moan, hiding his face in his hands, and sliding under the water until only his knobbly knees were sticking out.

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