Harry groaned softly as he felt himself wake up. The first thing he registered was acute pain all over his body. Then the realisation hit him that he was finding it hard to breathe. He squeezed his eyes shut when he felt blinding pain shoot up his body from his testicles, nearly paralysing him. He took several deep breaths, ignoring the pain in his chest to combat the pain elsewhere. The unique smell of a hospital made him realise that he was probably at Hogwarts. With a lot of difficulty, he opened his eyes, confirming his whereabouts. The sight of the school's hospital wing greeted him, along with several familiar faces.
Cyrus and Elizabeth Greengrass were sitting in armchairs by the fireplace, both clearly asleep. Astoria had taken a bed for herself and she too was fast asleep. To his left was Daphne, sitting in a chair by his bed and using the mattress as a pillow. To his right was Dylan, resting his head on Harry's arm, refusing to let go as he slept. When he tried to move, Harry winced in pain. Dylan's eyelids twitched at the movement and slowly opened. Blinking the sleep from his eyes, he realised with a start that Harry had regained consciousness. Not wanting to wake anyone who was sleeping, Dylan pressed the locket hanging around his neck, which cast a privacy charm around them. It took all of his self-control to not rush into his brother's arms and give him a hug.
"How are you feeling?" asked Dylan softly as he helped Harry sit up.
"Fine, I think," Harry replied in a raspy voice, wincing in pain as his delicate, abused flesh came into contact with the pillows. It hurt even to touch and breathe.
"You always say that you are fine, even when you're not," Dylan grimaced. "Here, drink this. Madam Pomfrey told us to give it to you if you woke up during the night."
"Can I have some water first?"
Dylan nodded and flicked his wand, making the self-refilling water jug pour water in a glass. Once done, he took the glass and gently placed it at Harry's lips, making his brother sip the water slowly, not wanting to increase the pain Harry obviously felt in his chest. Dylan then took the goblet of potion and helped Harry drink it too.
"Thanks, Dylan," said Harry softly. "Where's Sirius?"
"Ministry. When you told him that Voldemort was back, they captured Barty Crouch and now they're doing their best to secure the Ministry. He and Aunt Amelia gave us strict orders not to leave you."
Harry chuckled but coughed violently instead. He looked at the concerned face of the younger boy and smiled slightly. Extending his arms just a little, he whispered, "Come here."
Dylan wrapped his arms around his brother, silent tears rolling down his cheeks. "D-Did my father do this to you?" he asked, dreading the answer.
"No. Rabastan didn't touch me. Voldemort used the Cruciatus Curse once, but the rest of it was all Bellatrix and Rodolphus."
Somehow, that didn't make Dylan feel any better. His own uncle, Dylan's own blood, had done this to Harry!
"What's my prognosis?"
"I don't know," said Dylan, wiping the tears from his eyes. "They said no potion would help with the after-effects of the Cruciatus Curse. Lady Greengrass said they could be some brain damage, but I'm hoping that's not the case. Harry, I'mso sorry…"
"Don't be an idiot, Dylan, this wasn't your fault. It was mine to have not expected this. It certainly could have been avoided - had I been smart and been prepared for it. I can't believe that I was so expertly fooled. His words are still ringing in my ears."
"What did he say to you?"
"He offered to accept me as his son," said Harry in a monotonous voice, staring at the blank wall. "He said that it was a mistake to have tried to kill me all those years ago, but instead, he should have kidnapped me to raise me as his own son. We're so alike it is unnerving, he said, and I have to agree with him - partly. He was referring to the similarities between me and Tom Riddle, not me and Voldemort. I wonder how my life would have been like had he actually done so. Then again, I do wonder how my life would have been like had my parents lived to raise me themselves."
Harry was suddenly reminded of what Dumbledore had told him several months ago, right after he had been taken to the headmaster's office after his fight with Hermione Granger. When asked as to why he couldn't bury his anger at Dumbledore, Harry had coldly replied that it was difficult not to hate the man who had made his life miserable, and that what-if scenarios always played in his mind. Had Dumbledore made the right choice and let him be raised by Sirius from the start, then the issue of the Dursleys would never have come into play, thus leading to Harry not hating the headmaster. The words Dumbledore had spoken then had been brushed aside by the teenager, but he could understand the wisdom behind the aged wizard's words now.
'It does not do to dwell on dreams and forget to live, Harry… always remember that.'
"Harry… don't you hate him?" asked Dylan, looking incredulous.
Harry's eyes darkened as he felt his anger building. While it was true that he respected Tom Riddle, Voldemort was a whole different person.
"Yes, I hate him," he said in a low voice. "I've become soft. He knew exactly where to push my buttons and if not for my skills and some amount of luck, I would not have escaped that graveyard alive. The incident tonight made me realise that the monster who I met tonight was not the little boy I have seen in my memories. Voldemort is a deranged, power-hungry rabid dog that needs to be slaughtered ! And I swear in the name of Mother Magic, I'll get my revenge!"
"But Uncle Sirius has still not found the locket!" whispered Dylan urgently.
Harry paused. He had a point. They had no idea where the locket was and unless it was destroyed, Voldemort would never truly die.
"Maybe there are other ways to destroy him without having to destroy the locket. We'll have to look into it."
"He used you to try to get to me, you know," Harry added quietly after a pause.
"What do you mean he used me to get to you?"
"Voldemort has a lot of information about me and he was able to judge me accurately by observing my actions over the years and the relationships I have with different people. When I said he knew how to push my buttons, I meant it. You know how much I loathe child abuse. He tried to reach out to me and manipulate me through it; I could sense that. He also knows how much I care about you; how much you mean to me. He asked me what I would do if you joined him. Would I be willing to join him if you asked me to? To protect you?"
"I would never do that!" spat Dylan passionately. "Do you take me for a fool? I know that my father, uncle and aunt would kill me the moment I step in front of them. Voldemort did this to you and there is no one more important in my life than you, Harry! You're my brother, my father, my hero, all wrapped in one. You have done so much for me, embraced me, loved me, and I won't turn my back on you - now or ever. So you can forget about me joining Voldemort and us being on opposite sides of the war, understood? You better get used to me being by your side all the time because I'm not leaving you! I will never betray my brother! "
A hint of a smile formed on his lips. "No one could ask for a better brother than you, Dylan," Harry said softly, pinching the boy's cheek affectionately. "That really means a lot to me. Thank you."
Dylan grunted, his voice thick with emotion, as he helped the older Ravenclaw lie down again. Sitting down on the chair by the bed, he placed his head on the mattress as he tried to go back to sleep. He felt Harry's hand on his head, with his brother's fingers stroking his hair for a few minutes, and Dylan fell asleep, not knowing the conflicting emotions that were raging in the mind of his father regarding him, yearning to meet his son.
....
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