Chapter 80- it takes a village ( part 3)

"Harry, please try to calm yourself," Madam Pomfrey begged, watching as some nearby dosage vials began to vibrate ominously. "Your magic has always been this way, this is just the first time in quite a while that you have had full access to it."

"How do you know? Did I do something to my relatives? Is that why they were always so afraid?" Harry asked, taking the last seat on the couch at Steve's wordless invitation. On a whim he reached out and grasped one of Janet's hands, some of his worry dissipating at the healthy warmth of her skin.

Madam Pomfrey hesitated, her expression suddenly grave. "Harry, when you were very small, probably about three years old, there was an incident involving magic. Magic," she stressed, "not accidental magic. You were using wandless magic to entertain your cousin and it frightened your aunt and uncle. In the confusion of the moment, your uncle accidentally injured you." She paused a moment nodding at the headmaster's group as they approached. "Professor Dumbledore explained the basics of the folder to you, yes?"

Harry nodded, recalling the previous day's meeting. "Yes."

"From the day of your injury your folder alarmed, trying to alert someone." Harry frowned and started to argue, but subsided when she held up a hand in a "let me finish" way. "I don't know the why of it, but Professors Dumbledore and Flitwick found a silencing charm on your folder when they went to the Ministry a few days ago. There was also a request in to have your folder's charms adjusted so the silencing charm wasn't necessarily a malicious gesture."

"I mentioned the alarm failed, but didn't go into specifics. Our uninterrupted time at the Leaky Cauldron was growing short," Professor Dumbledore supplied. Harry nodded his agreement as as disjointed snatches of shouting, confusion, and pain teased his memory.

Madam Pomfrey seated herself in the visitor's chair across from Harry, while Padfoot walked over and laid his head in Harry's lap. Harry absently stroked the dog's black fur with his free hand as Professor Flitwick took up the story.

"The longer your folder's summons went unanswered-and the more offenses against your person it tallied-the more forcefully it alarmed. I'm not certain why a simple Silencing Charm held. There was more than enough power to break it."

"You mentioned a rudimentary intelligence yesterday," Steve offered. "Maybe that was something it didn't know how to deal with. No one could hear it, so all it knew to do was ring louder." Professor Flitwick mulled that over, then nodded his agreement.

"A sound possibility," he approved, then quietened as Madam Pomfrey addressed Harry again.

"Charm theory aside, your folder began augmenting itself with your magic when you were a child. You have clearly experienced a certain unpredictability with regard to your magic, but the drain was never enough to prevent you from casting spells or cause any physical side effects..."

"...until it decided to hide me," Harry finished for her, catching on. Madam Pomfrey nodded her agreement.

"That's right. When it made you untrackable, it began siphoning off an enormous amount of magic. Enough that your body could no longer compensate. That's why you couldn't heal properly when you fell ill, and Janet and her daughters are in their current state." Madam Pomfrey paused and pointed her wand at Harry's midsection again, eyebrows raising sharply at the result.

Her behavior was beginning to make Harry anxious. "What is it?" he asked, frowning a bit when she sighed.

"One of my duties as Hogwarts Mediwitch is to monitor the students' core magic levels. Magical surges and depletion are serious business, and core magic baselines can fluctuate a great deal during adolescence," she explained, glancing between Steve and Harry. "The core stabilizes once a young witch or wizard stops growing and no longer requires such careful monitoring." She grimaced at her wand, then went on.

"I'm wandering from the point. Succinctly, an accurate baseline is essential in determining when things are out of balance. It seems the folder was drawing more power than I realized-even before this hiding business. Harry's core readings are higher than they've ever been and still increasing."

Harry looked up at Madam Pomfrey when she addressed him directly again. "I'll have to establish a new baseline once you even out again. As demonstrated, you will have to relearn how to gauge your spellcasting strength, and you will need to remain as calm as possible to minimize accidental magic until you adjust."

"We will organize some practice sessions for you once everything is sorted," Professor Dumbedore assured. Harry thanked the headmaster, then noticed Madam Pomfrey was looking out of sorts.

"What is it?" he asked, having never seen this side of her. The mediwitch looked down as though ashamed.

"You were showing classic symptoms of magical exhaustion while you were ill, but I didn't investigate it-I even looked for another cause. Your core level was lower than normal but shouldn't have caused that degree of distress, and everyone insisted your magic usage since the end of term had been negligible. I apologize for not catching on sooner."

Harry blinked at her in disbelief, then closed his eyes and shook his head, trying to process all the information he'd been given over the last two days. Yesterday he'd been too tired and out of sorts to fully appreciate what the headmaster had imparted. Now, as he considered the folder, his upbringing, the alarm, the protection, and his own capricious magic the saying "he didn't know whether to laugh or cry" took on new clarity and meaning. Harry took a deep breath and let it out, anger and resentment warring with a kind of fatalistic amusement. His entire life, it seemed, was a comedy of errors. Brilliant.

When he finally glanced up, he noticed everyone was watching him carefully. Most were simply waiting for him to gather himself, but Harry had been in the hospital wing enough times to catch the unusual hesitation in Madam Pomfrey's demeanor. She'd always been kind to him in her no-nonsense way, so he hurried to reassure her. "I'm not happy my folder was tampered with and all that, but it seems to me you did the best you could with what you had," he said, making the older witch smile gratefully. "No apologies necessary. I am curious, though..." Harry trailed off and frowned. "Tom said the folder was drawing a bit from him?" Madam Pomfrey nodded.

"The folder's technique is very subtle but I can detect it now that I know what to look for. It isn't drawing significant power from Tom, although it might have had Kitty and Becky's magic proved insufficient."

Mention of the girls drew Harry's attention back to the couch. "I don't understand. Why did it hit her so hard?" he asked sadly, looking at Janet's hand, still held in his own. "I've never been anything special." Padfoot chuffed in obvious disagreement, but Harry just shook his head. "Why could I do it when she couldn't?" he asked, looking up at Madam Pomfrey.

The mediwitch paused, once again choosing her words carefully before speaking. "In the first place, Harry, you are something special. The finesse and control you demonstrated as a toddler was phenomenal. In the second place, your body and magic have had years to adapt and compensate to the folder's pull. Your magic may have even grown to meet the ever-increasing demands on it. In the third place, Janet is untrained. She was also hit with a lot all at once. I doubt there are more than a handful of witches and wizards who have sufficient magical strength to fuel the folder's protection alone, and I'm not sure there are any who could manage with no side effects. In Janet's case it compensated by drawing supplemental energy from those closest to her." Seeming curious, she waved her wand in a different pattern, then nodded. "Including you."

Harry latched onto that at once, tightening his grip on Janet's hand. "It could draw a bit more," he said, looking between Steve and Madam Pomfrey. "It can draw all it wants! I can take it, really!" he insisted. Steve gave him a sad smile, but shook his head.

"I know you can, Harry, and I appreciate the offer more than you know, but we just got you back on your feet." When Harry started to object, Madam Pomfrey cut him off with a stern look then began addressing him in her best "I-am-your-Mediwitch-and-you-will-do-this-or-else" voice.

"Quite so. The magic it's currently drawing from you isn't interfering with your recovery, but you will likely need a few days to level off. Besides, the goal here is for no one to be worn down to the point of illness. As you pointed out earlier, no protection is worth that."

Defeated, Harry slouched back into the sofa cushions, only to look up a few seconds later when Madam Pomfrey's alarm sounded and the pink-haired witch he'd seen at Mrs. Figg's house the night the Burrow was damaged emerged from the secondary ward with his archive folder in hand.

"Wotcher!" she said with a smile as Professors Dumbledore and Flitwick hurried over to her. "Fudge has evidently ordered an audit of the archive so I caught Gainsley when he came in for an early cuppa in the tea room," she explained, handing the folder to Professor Flitwick. "I promised I'd get this back as soon as possible."

"If what we have in mind works, you'll likely be able to get it back before the Archive opens," Professor Flitwick replied, trying without success to open Harry's folder before trotting over to the sofa. "If you would, Mr. Potter," he requested, handing the folder to Harry to open.

"What are you going to do?" Harry wondered, watching as the pink-haired witch, Madam Pomfrey, Remus, and Padfoot stepped forward and the headmaster and Professor Flitwick began a complex series of wand movements.

"Let's see if our theories are correct before summoning everyone," Professor Flitwick said, prodding experimentally at the folder with his wand and getting a rude jolt for his trouble. As Harry watched, the two Hogwarts professors ran through a series of trials utilizing advanced Charm Theories that were beyond his experience and in some cases, comprehension. He was so engrossed in the procedure he almost missed it when Janet stirred beside him.

"Jannie?" Steve questioned, as his wife lifted her head from his shoulder and blinked, looking as if she'd been wakened prematurely and would really rather drop off again

Janet favored her husband with a wan smile before turning to the professors. "I'd stop that if I were you," she advised, then laid her head down again.

"What? Why? Oh, Janet do try to stay awake!" Professor Flitwick encouraged. "You're our best chance of communicating with it!" Janet nodded vaguely, but already seemed on the verge of sleep.

Up to now he'd been too busy watching the professors to notice, but now that they'd stopped Harry realized the folder was holding itself quite rigid in his hands. It's bracing! he thought, instinctively recognizing the posture. Bracing for the next round!

"Wait!" he warned when the professors raised their wands to continue. "Look," he said, demonstrating how plank like the folder was holding itself by propping it on one hand like a tray. "It's resisting...frightened, maybe. I think that's what Janet was trying to tell you."

"Can you communicate with it?" the pink haired witch asked, coming forward to kneel in front of the couch. "Sorry, we haven't been properly introduced," she said at Steve and Harry's quizzical looks. "I'm Tonks, Magical Law Enforcement. I'm a friend of the professor'," she explained, gesturing over her shoulder toward the headmaster. "Have you tried to communicate with it?" she asked again.

Harry shook his head. "It didn't occur to me."

Professor Dumbledore chuckled. "Neither have we, for much the same reason I might add," he admitted hunkering down in front of Harry. "I suppose gaining its cooperation would yield better results," he mused. "My sincere apologies," he began, then briefly laid out the situation and proposed a solution, Harry privately thought that Dumbledore was perhaps the only person on the planet who could address a stack of paper without sounding stupid. "Your protection is excellent, but unfortunately too much for a single witch or wizard to bear," Dumbledore finished. "Will you please allow us to assist?"

The folder loosened up during the headmaster's speech, Harry noticed. By the end, he had to use both hands to hold it as it was behaving like a normal stack of paper again. Harry jumped but managed not to drop the folder when the fingers of his right hand tingled and a new piece of parchment sparkled into being under them.

"What have we here?" Professor Dumbledore said, adjusting Harry's hand slightly, then reading aloud. "(Touch wand here.) I (state your name) freely agree to share a portion of my magic to aid in the protection of Harry Potter from Tom Marvolo Riddle (AKA Lord Voldemort) his followers, and any other individual or entity who may wish Mr. Potter harm. I understand this protection extends not only to Harry Potter but to those who reside under the same roof he does. I am willing to share up to (state numeric percentage) percent of my total magical power in support of this endeavor. I understand that I may withdraw my assistance at any time by re-reading this paragraph and stating zero as my percentage of shared magic." The headmaster paused, then nodded. "Yes, I think that will do just fine," he said, touching his wand to the indicated place on the parchment. "I, Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore..."

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this is last chapter updated by the original author. after this, there will be no chapters. so all in all, an incomplete story. to be honest, on this platform, this story will never be well ranked. I just wanted to fill the previous workspace. enjoy it, like it, support it or hate it, belittle it. all your wish.

HAPPY READING.

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