Chapter 72- A little knowledge is dangerous thing( part 2).

"Petrificus Totalus!"

Bloody hell! Ron thought, eyeing the statue-like form of Sirius Black while trying to move his own frozen limbs. Madam Pomfrey had a reputation for being someone a bloke shouldn't cross, but before now he'd always taken the warnings in stride.

As the furious matron stalked across his line of vision he began to see her in a whole new light. Definitely not someone to trifle with! Who'd have thought her capable of immobilizing six wizards with a single wave of her wand?

A tentative hand on his shoulder drew his attention, then Hermione stepped out where he could see her. Ron smiled inwardly, warmed by the concerned little frown on her face. It didn't last long, though. Once she decided he was probably all right, she crossed her arms, gave him her most withering look, and mouthed, I told you so!

Yeah, yeah, he returned, with a mental eye-roll, pausing nervously as Madam Pomfrey glared at him, before moving on to Sirius, Professor Lupin, Fred, George, and his father. He caught sight of her again as she stepped out of the center of them and rounded on Professors Flitwick, McGonagall, and Dumbledore.

"Do you have anything to say?" she demanded, her wand still clenched in her fist.

In hindsight, Ron reckoned they probably shouldn't have rushed her like that, but still! This was Harry, for Heaven's sake! Judging from what she'd said before they'd descended on her, Harry was very ill and in the care of Muggles yet! How could she just leave him there?

Professor Dumbledore won't stand for this! Ron mused confidently, waiting for his headmaster to disarm Madam Pomfrey and put in her place. He'll put a stop to this nonsense and order her to tell him everything!

Naturally, Dumbledore did the unexpected.

Instead of becoming angry, or at the very least releasing Ron and the others from the petrifying spell, the headmaster lifted his hands in a pacifying manner, and answered the question posed to him.

"I have nothing to say at the present time, Poppy, but I do have questions. Perhaps if you begin at the beginning, we can better understand your decision to leave Mr. Potter behind."

"That's exactly what I was doing before this gang of hoodlums interrupted," the Mediwitch snapped, indicating Ron and the others with a jab or her wand.

Dumbledore hummed in agreement, an amused twinkle in his eye. "I daresay they won't do it again, dear lady," he pointed out, enjoying the situation entirely too much for Ron's taste. If Dumbledore wasn't going to reprimand Madam Pomfrey that was his business of course, but couldn't he at least perform the counterspell? It was dead awkward being stuck this way, and his nose was beginning to itch.

Clearly still miffed about the whole affair, Madam Pomfrey didn't reply immediately. Instead she glared at the group of petrified wizards, giving Sirius a particularly nasty look before relenting and putting her wand back in her pocket.

Without bothering to remove her spell, of course.

Ron sighed inwardly. Naturally. That would be too bloody convenient.

Unable to do much else, he listened as Madam Pomfrey described how Harry's owl Hedwig insisted on coming along, even though that meant a ride through the Floo Network. Once they arrived at the Leaky Cauldron, they'd made their way to the address specified in the letter.

"It was the home of a Muggle family Mr. Potter befriended this summer," Madam Pomfrey explained, "or perhaps mixed family would be more accurate. The father is a Muggle; the mother and their two daughters are untrained witches."

Hermione took immediate notice of that, looking up, then frowning in a way that meant she was trying to recall something. "Daughters..." she murmured, pursing her lips in concentration. Ron had just enough time to wonder what she was on about before she gasped and thrust her hand into the air. "Madam Pomfrey?"

For a second Ron thought Madam Pomfrey might remind his friend that classes weren't currently in session.

For a second.

In the end she chose the path of least resistence. "Yes, Miss Granger?"

Hermione was now wearing her "I'm Thinking As Hard As I Can" face. "If you please, Madam Pomfrey, is Harry with an American family?"

"What?"

Oh...of course! Ron thought, snickering inwardly when Madam Pomfrey crossed his line of vision again. The gobsmacked look on her face was almost worth being petrified. Things got even better when Professor McGonagall blinked as though recalling something and spoke up.

"An American family, Poppy? Would their name be 'Wright' by any chance?"

"Why yes! But how on Earth did you know?" the Mediwitch demanded, glancing between Hermione and Professor McGonagall.

"Abigail Penstone, head registrar at the Salem Witches' Institute, contacted me about a week ago. It seems the family of one Katrina Wright relocated to England earlier this summer," Professor McGonagall replied. "She requested permission to offer Hogwarts as an option when she sent the girl her acceptance letter."

The Head of Gryffindor paused, then peered suspiciously at Hermione through her square framed glasses. "And you, Miss Granger? What exactly is your part in this?"

"I was thinking of the family Ron, Mr. Weasley and I saw at the Leaky Cauldron, Professor. They appeared to have three children...two little girls, and an older boy who reminded us all of Harry. Now that I think of it, the older girl might have been the right size for a First Year," she said, growing excited. "Maybe it was Harry, then!"

"Perhaps," Professor Dumbledore cautioned, "but recall, Arthur said Amos Diggory spotted a boy who resembles Mr. Potter at Flourish & Blotts. According to the staff, the boy has dark eyes and his name is Jim Patterson."

That brought Hermione up short. "I forgot that part," she admitted with a sigh, "but he looks so much like Harry! Professor, I still think this Jim Patterson person is worth speaking to!"

"As do we, Miss Granger," Professor Dumbledore assured her. "In fact..." the headmaster pulled absently on his beard and turned to his deputy. "Minerva, were you able to catch up to our mysterious Mr. Patterson?"

McGonagall shook her head. "I've only seen him through the Leaky Cauldron windows. I haven't been able to approach him out of doors."

"Jim Patterson...interesting," Madam Pomfrey mused. "I didn't really consider the significance last night, but I think Miss Granger may have the right of it. Now understand, the boy I tended last night was Harry Potter-green eyes and all-but now that you mention it, the family did act like they were accustomed to calling him by another name. The parents were making an effort to call him 'Harry', but they were clearly more accustomed to addressing him as 'Sparky', 'Jim', or 'Jimmy'."

Sparky? Ron laughed inwardly wondering how Harry had gotten stuck with that one. Maybe it had something to do with that lightning-shaped scar of his.

"Well that certainly strengthens the theory that Harry Potter and Jim Patterson are the same person," Professor McGonagall admitted, "The eyecolor could be a Glamour I suppose...but didn't Arthur say a member of the Flourish & Blotts staff cast Finite Incantatem on him?"

Dumbldore shrugged. "All that proves is he didn't use a spell. There are many methods for changing one's appearance."

"Appearance yes, but eyecolor? "

Dumbledore held up a hand. "I know it seems odd, Minerva, but we could be overlooking something. For now let's agree that Jim Patterson could be Harry Potter in disguise and get back to the business at hand." He waited for her nod then turned back to the hospital matron. "Poppy?"

Madam Pomfrey paused a moment, gathering her thoughts. "The father answered the door when I arrived," she continued. "He seemed tense-worried-and if I'm not mistaken, he actually looked to Potter's owl before allowing me in. I probably should have taken a little time to reassure him, but I was anxious to be on my way. Since there were already casualties at Hogwarts, I'd planned to collect Mr. Potter and take him back to the hospital wing. Unfortunately circumstances made that quite impossible."

"What circumstances were those, Poppy?" Professor McGonagall asked.

"Well, the mother for one thing," Madam Pomfrey admitted with a rueful shake of her head. "She went so far as to ask the owl if I was the one she'd gone after, and flatly refused when I offered to take Mr. Potter away."

That surprised Ron, particularly since Harry's Muggle relatives practically shoved him out the door at every given opportunity. Hermione seemed to be thinking along the same lines.

"What? But why?" she asked, impatient anger beginning to creep into her voice. "Why would she send for help only to refuse it?"

"She didn't refuse my help, Miss Granger. She refused to let me take Mr. Potter away without his knowledge and consent. There is a difference."

"But-"

"Understand, Miss Granger, the Wrights were in a rather difficult situation. They were quite nice, and rather apologetic about the whole thing, but my boundaries were clear. I was there on Mr. Potter's owl's recommendation so they trusted me to a point, but only so far. The only two wizards they were acquainted with were Mr. Potter, and Tom from the Leaky Cauldron. Mr. Potter was laying senseless in their house, and his owl flatly refused to let them go to ask Tom for advice."

"What? But that's rubbish! Hedwig would never refuse to get help for Harry!"

"You're quite right, Miss Granger. That's why she fetched me."

"But-" Hermione tried again before Madam Pomfrey cut her off.

"You're trying to villianize these people for no reason, child. Consider, Mr. Potter had just told them about You Know Who. The family had already been threatened, and if I'm not mistaken, attacked." She turned to Dumbledore. "I found traces of what must have been a botched memory charm on the mother," she informed him gravely before returning her attention to Hermione. "They were grateful for my assistance, but they were taking no chances. Mr. Potter was not to be moved from their house until he was lucid enough to speak for himself." Pausing, Madam Pomfrey gave the garden of frozen wizards a pointed look, and reached into her robe pocket. "I trust you gentlemen will be able to control yourselves now," she said, with a negligent flick of her wand.

Suddenly released from stasis, Ron and the others completed interrupted running steps and flailed for balance before everyone was firmly on their feet again. Sirius in particular was not amused. "What were you thinking? How could you just leave Harry there?" he roared. "You should have brought him back here or taken him to St. Mungos immediately, regardless of what the Muggle wanted! She couldn't have stopped you!"

Ron swore the temperature in the hospital wing dropped a few degrees when Madam Pomfrey turned to face Harry's godfather, wand at the ready. "Unless you've completed your Mediwizard certification, do not presume to question me or tell me what's right for my patients, Sirius Black," she stated, frost coating every syllable. "If you're suggesting I left Mr. Potter behind lightly or against his will, you're gravely mistaken. When I first arrived Mr. Potter couldn't be moved."

"Well, what about later then? Surely you stabilized him before leaving?"

"I did."

"And?"

"I have no legal claim on him," Madam Pomfrey said with exaggerated patience. "Are you saying I should have kidnaped him?"

Sirius' eyes narrowed. "If that's what it takes. If legal claim is what you want, tell me where he is and I'll go get him."

"You can try I suppose, but I wish you luck."

"Wait..." Professor Lupin said, reaching out and almost absently and hauling Sirius back. "Are you're saying Harry doesn't want to come back to us?" he asked, sounding slightly hurt.

"I haven't been able to say much of anything, now have I?" Madam Pomfrey countered, putting one hand on her hip. "If you lot will stop interrupting and let me explain, I think most of your questions will be answered. I'm only telling you this much because Mr. Potter said I could. He reckoned you'd be worried, but keep in mind this is privileged information." After a few seconds of silence, she nodded and went on.

"As I said, the bird's instincts were good. Moving Mr. Potter at that point could have been disastrous. We're quite lucky Mrs. Wright had sense enough to realize or at least suspect a Muggle hospital couldn't have dealt with the boy's symptoms. That brings us to the heart of the matter. I couldn't move Mr. Potter at that point because he had completely left his body."

That got Ron's attention. "What?" he gasped, earning an irritated look from the Mediwitch.

"You're taking Divination, are you not, Mr. Weasley? Surely Professor Trelawney has mentioned Astral travel."

Ron shared an incredulous look with Hermione. "Well, yes," he finally admitted, "but we-Harry and I..." He paused, trying to get his mind around the concept. "We thought it was all rubbish."

"Not completely, Mr. Weasley," Madam Pomfrey corrected, after sharing an ironic look with Professor McGonagall. "Astral travel is possible. Dangerous and not terribly common perhaps, but possible."

"Yes," Arthur Weasley put in, making Ron look up in surprise. He watched as his father moved to his mother's bedside and gently took her hand. "Harry came to us at Arabella Figg's house, and told us the Burrow was under attack. You Know Who had a plan no one expected. I'm sorry to say it took him a little time to convince us his warning was valid."

Ron squirmed uncomfortably as horrid might-have-beens teased his imagination. Professor Sprout had explained his mum and Ginny had been lower in the house and had simply gotten a stronger dose of the Death Eaters' gas, but it was still odd to see them so still and quiet.

Madam Pomfrey frowned. "How long did it take?" she asked, providing a welcome distraction. Following her gaze, Ron saw she was looking very intently at his father.

Arthur Weasley frowned in concentration. "Lord, I don't know, Poppy," he said, spreading his hands. "Ten minutes, perhaps? Certainly no more than twenty."

Madam Pomfrey hummed, tapping her lips with her forefinger. "That wouldn't be it, then. Too short. The point is, Mr. Potter stayed out longer than was strictly wise. His Astral Link became dangerously overextended, and the stress on his body was significant. At one point his temperature rose to such a degree I had to transfigure his bed into a bath so we could try to cool him off.

"That must have been when he got all quiet at Arabella's, after Arthur, Remus, and Mad-Eye left," Sirius speculated, glancing at Dumbledore who nodded his agreement.

Madam Pomfrey was not impressed. "Am I to understand that Mr. Potter stayed extended after delivering his warning?" she demanded. When Sirius nodded, she shook her head in exasperation. "Of all the thoughtless, irresponsible-you should have sent him back immediately!" she cried, unconsciously throwing his own accusation back in his teeth.

"That wasn't exactly my choice to make!" Sirius flared, looking mortally offended. "Harry wanted to make sure everyone got out of the Burrow all right! Fawkes held him in place until we got Shacklebolt's firecall!"

"I believe Harry said Fawkes agreed to hold him in the Physical Realm as long as possible," Dumbledore clarified, holding up a cautioning finger. "The fact that he was able to hear the firecall-or most of it-is mere coincidence."

"Well, I must say he's a bird of his word," Madam Pomfrey replied, shaking her head. "I didn't want to alarm Mrs. Wright, she was already frightened enough as it was, but another few seconds and...well, I'm really not sure what would have happened. Most of my patients have the sense to keep their spirits inside their bodies where they belong."

Professor Dumbledore cleared his throat. "In Harry's defense, what happened last night was unusual even for an Astral Projection. Furthermore, I'm not certain this 'ability' of his is entirely voluntary. In any case, it seems some instruction would be prudent. I'll discuss it with him once he recovers."

"Yes, that would probably be best," Madam Pomfrey agreed, "for my sake if not his own. Mr. Potter may thrive on these sorts of adventures, but my heart's not what it once was."

"Is Harry all right, Madam Pomfrey?" Hermione asked quietly.

"He's on the mend, Miss Granger," the Mediwitch replied to Ron's great relief. "He's still ill of course. Weak, disoriented, and dreadfully sore, but I don't think he suffered any permanent damage."

"Thank the Lord for that," Ron's father said wholeheartedly.

"Indeed," Professor Dumbledore seconded, before turning back to the Mediwitch. "Poppy, did Mr. Potter happen to mention why he's so reluctant to return to us?" Ron noted the headmaster was suddenly very serious with no trace of his trademark humor. He was actually acting like someone about to be told something they desperately don't want to hear.

Madam Pomfrey hesitated, then sighed. "Mr. Potter fears you intend to send him back to his Muggle relatives," she said regretfully. Ron was shocked, but Professor Dumbledore didn't seem to be.

"I suspected as much. I fear I haven't listened to the boy enough in the past."

"You aren't alone in that, Albus," Madam Pomfrey said, giving him a sympathetic look before addressing the room at large. "He's also convinced the lot of you are irrevocably cross with him, and no amount of talking on my part could convince him otherwise," she stated, touching off another uproar.

"Then you definitely should have brought him back!" Sirius shouted over a chorus of general agreement. "We could have sorted the mess once he arrived!"

"No, no, NO!" Madam Pomfrey thundered, punctuating the last with a flash and a BANG from the end of her wand. That's where you're all wrong," she said into the resulting silence. "This may come as a surprise to all of you, but Harry Potter isn't made of stone. He's a flesh and blood wizard, and he has limits just like anyone else. I know his fears are probably groundless, but they're very real to him and his well being has to take precedence. The Wrights have cared for him like one of their own, and there's no reason to believe they won't continue to do so. I wanted to calm him, not add to his stress, so I backed down. Good thing, too, it seems," she continued turning to Dumbledore. "If I hadn't I might have found myself forcibly ejected from the premises."

Ron glanced at Hermione and his father, unsurprised at the small smiles tugging on their lips. Professor Sprout, who was not privy to the joke seemed shocked. "Surely they didn't threaten you, Poppy!"

"Not directly," Madam Pomfrey clarified, "perhaps not even intentionally, but something very strange happened. When I was trying to calm Mr. Potter, I felt the air tighten around me-like the sensation one feels before Apparating. I thought it might be accidental magic from Mr. Potter at first, but now I think it might have been Mrs. Wright. She was appalled at Mr. Potter's state, and wanted me away from him immediately. It was written all over her face. When I changed tactics with Mr. Potter and assured him he didn't have to go immediately if he didn't wish it, the pressure eased."

"You should have Stupefied her-or are you suddenly frightened of Muggles and untrained Half Bloods?"

"Don't be ridiculous, Mr. Black," Madam Pomfrey scoffed. "If fact, you have that same untrained Half Blood to thank for Mr. Potter's eventual cooperation."

"Wait...cooperation?"

"That's right. Mrs. Wright convinced Mr. Potter to meet Professor Dumbledore at the Leaky Cauldron. The date is a little tentative-it depends on how long it takes the children to recover. The potions I gave Mr. Potter and the Wright girls should have them back on their feet in a few days. I told Mrs. Wright to send Professor Dumbledore a message with Mr. Potter's owl, or leave word with Tom when they were ready to come."

Dumbledore inclined his head gravely. "Thank you, Poppy. I'm sure we'll get everything sorted then."

"Have a care that you don't frighten them," she warned. "I'll be very cross if Mr. Potter or the Wright girls suffers a relapse, or I have to reassemble you from being splinched."

"I shall be the very soul of courtesy, dear lady."

Madam Pomfrey wasn't impressed. "See that you are," she said, lifting an imperious eyebrow. "In the meantime, since Mr. Potter wasn't able to join you immediately, Mrs. Wright was kind enough to send these along," she continued, reaching into a robe pocket and producing a stack of photos. "I'm sure they'll calm your fears better than my words ever could.

"This is Harry," Fred stated decisively a few minutes later when the photos had made their way around to them. "Look here," he said, pointing to a photo of the boy in question sitting in the floor with the younger of the two girls, "Harry does that all the time."

"No glasses, though. Not in any of them," Hermione noted flipping quickly through the stack of photos. "Oh, look Ron!" she exclaimed, stopping at one. "It's the flute Hagrid made, remember? I didn't even know Harry still had it."

"He still has it," Ron affirmed, studying the photo. By the looks on the girls' faces, Harry was playing the little flute for them. Wow. He hadn't even realized Harry bothered with it.

"Ah!" said George, holding up a photo of Harry holding a doll in one hand, and a dress for it in the other. Fred took in the picture with a glance, before giving his brother a sly wink.

"Are you thinking what I'm thinking?"

"Blackmail."

"Definitely."

"Excellent!"

"Oh, you two," Hermione scolded, snatching the picture away. Grinning, she considered the rather wild-eyed boy staring up at her from the photo.

Mrs. Granger chuckled as she peered over her daughter's shoulder. "Oh my, that's a good one. Whoever took it caught it just at the right time."

Hermione shook her head. "It's just hard to believe Harry's getting along so well without his glasses."

"Perhaps he's wearing his contacts-" her mother suggested before interrupting herself. "Contacts!" she repeated, beginning to smile.

"Of course!" Hermione said, slapping her forehead. "We're so used to Harry having glasses it just doesn't occur to us..."

"What are you talking about?" Ron finally asked.

"I think I know how Harry changed his eyecolor!"

"How?"

"Look at the pictures. Harry isn't wearing his glasses in any of them, and we know Harry doesn't see well without his glasses."

"Yeah?" Ron prompted, wishing she'd get on with it already.

"Three words, Ron. Color contact lenses. They're Muggle things so they wouldn't react to magic!"

Closed.

Of course.

The Ministry doesn't open for business for another hour or more, you great dunce!

Percy hesitated, drumming his fingers on the doorframe, then slowly withdrew the master key he carried as a member of the Minister's staff. He looked both ways down the deserted hallway, feeling very much like a naughty boy with his hand in the cookie jar, before slipping the key into the lock. He'd fetch the folder and take it up to the Minister's office. There had to be some kind of misunderstanding...some mistake!

Shaking his head at his father and Professor Dumbledore for their unnecessary theatrics, Percy headed over to the cabinet where the "P" folders were housed. Once the Minister knew what was going on, they could discuss the available options and decide what to do in a calm, rational fashion. Harry would probably be made a ward of the Ministry, at least in the short term. His father had mentioned taking him in...

Paris...Park...Peabody... Plumtree...Porch...Posternock... Pottberg...Poundstone...Prewitt...

Bother, the librarian must have mis-filed the bloody thing... Percy groused, starting over at "Owens" and searching each tab individually. It had to be in here, he'd chatted with the librarians a few moments after he'd returned it, and watched while the folder was re-filed.

Powers...Pratt...Prizzi... Puffenberger...Purtee...Pyles...Qadri...Qaiyumi...

Percy blinked, re-read the tabs, and blinked again as the enormity of the situation hit him. "It's not here! It's gone!" he blurted in dismay, running a scanning eye over the "O" and "Q" files just for good measure.

He stood there a moment, mind blank with shock, before drawing his wand. "Accio Harry Potter's folder!" he said, growing more agitated than ever when nothing came zooming into his hand. The folder wasn't misfiled, it was gone! But where was it?

Or who had it? Heart beginning to pound, Percy shoved his wand back in his pocket, stopping dead in his tracks when the only possible answer occurred to him. Dumbledore! Dumbledore must have come back for it! he gibbered, heading back to the door.

That's it. This has gone entirely too far, he decided, stepping out into the hall and locking the door behind him. Even if it means answering awkward questions, I have to tell Minister Fudge what's going on straightaway!

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