Chapter Thirty-One: When Lord Voldemort is Worried…
Dumbledore rushed into the infirmary to see Madam Pomfrey and Professor Snape bustling around a bed that no doubt held Harish Blake. Professor McGonagall was hovering near the doors, looking rather worried. As Dumbledore stepped closer, he could see the sixth year.
He had already been changed out of his robes and was only wearing a pair of underwear. His leg had been put in a splint and was sitting on top of three fluffy pillows. His head was propped up by another two pillows. Currently, Poppy was doing spell work on an area of the boy's chest while Severus was brewing a potion for their patient.
"Albus!" McGonagall exclaimed at the sight of the headmaster. "Albus, what—"
"I found Alastor," Dumbledore replied. "I think he is fine where he is until Mr. Blake is no longer in critical condition, but he will be needing to visit Poppy as well."
"Would you like me to bring him here?" Professor McGonagall asked.
"That would be appreciated," Dumbledore replied. "I need to go fetch Mr. Blake's father, who is undoubtedly home by now."
Dumbledore heard Minerva mutter about how horrible the circumstances were as she left the Hospital Wing. Then, he sighed heavily and went to his office. He threw floo powder into his fireplace and the flames turned green, then he stuck his head in the fire and called, "Anata Blake!"
The fire swirled and his head spun for a minute before an empty living room appeared. There were two deep green couches. One was directly opposite the fireplace and the other was against the right wall. Closest to the fireplace was a chair of the same green that had a cloak draped over one arm. While Dumbledore waited, he could hear an alarm going off somewhere within the house and Blake came running a moment later.
"Dumbledore!" Blake exclaimed, jumping at the sight of the man. He composed himself and asked, "What brings you here?"
"I am afraid I have some bad news."
"What?" Blake asked. "Does this concern my son?"
"Indeed it does," Dumbledore replied.
Blake looked very, very worried at this.
Dumbledore then said, "I will ask you to step through in just a moment, but before you do I must tell you that your son is in rather bad shape."
"What happened to him?" Blake asked as he hastily pulled his traveling cloak on.
"He was attacked," Dumbledore replied stiffly. He did not want to indulge any more information than that until he knew exactly what was going on.
Blake swore under his breath, looking down and running a hand through his hair. Then, he turned to the headmaster and said, "I'm coming."
Dumbledore nodded and pulled his head out of the fire. A second later, Blake came walking through the fireplace, dusting ashes off of his cloak. He hardly looked at Dumbledore and barely said a word; all he said was, "Take me to him," before they were running through the castle to the infirmary.
By then, students were flooding through the front doors from the Quidditch field. Voldemort saw a red head or two as he passed through, and he wondered if Harish's own friends knew he was hurt. Several students seemed to notice them, though. At least a hundred heads turned and stared at the sight of the headmaster running through the halls.
Voldemort was taken straight to the infirmary. The doors to the infirmary had been shut, so when Voldemort arrived, he threw them open impressively. When he entered the ward his son was in, he looked around. On the first bed directly to the right, all Voldemort could really see was a stack of pillows and several locks of messy brown hair. The bed next to Harish's was occupied as well. As he walked closer, he realized that it was occupied by the infamous auror, Alastor "Mad-Eye" Moody.
Dumbledore watched as Blake walked over to his son's bed. Harish was now wearing pajamas, but it was hard to miss the splint on his leg, a sling on his left arm, and the very obvious scrapes that were on the boy's face and hands. Blake pulled a chair up beside his son's bed and looked down at him, obviously very distraught.
At that moment, Dumbledore realized the full extent of their relationship. Not only were they father and son, but they were all each other had. Yes, this meant that Harish was very close to his father and adored him more than most children adored their own parents, but his father had no one else either. He had no wife, no other kids, and—as far as Dumbledore knew—no siblings.
But, there were also some things about the relationship that Dumbledore did not, and probably would never, understand. Like the fact that Harish was the only thing Voldemort was capable of loving. This made Harish so important to him and for him that it was indescribable. Voldemort probably would never even know how much he depended on that boy now.
Finally, Voldemort looked up at the old man and asked, "How did this happen?"
"We aren't exactly sure quite yet," Dumbledore replied. "He was found at the base of the stairs up to Professor Moody's office. One can only guess that whoever was impersonating him attacked Harish and caused him to fall down the stairs. But, we cannot know for sure until Harish awakes."
"When will that be?" Voldemort asked. His voice was oddly calm.
"I would have to ask the school nurse, but I can guess that it will not be tonight."
After a moment of uneasy silence, Madam Pomfrey walked out of her office and put curtains around Moody's bed. Before he could ask her about Harish, the sound of voices approaching the ward interrupted him. Seconds later, the doors opened and Ludo Bagman, Minister Fudge, Professor McGonagall, and Professor Flitwick entered the infirmary. Bagman was holding a sack of what could only be Harish's prize money.
"Dear God," Fudge said, stopping when he caught sight of Harish. "What happened to him?"
"That is something I would like to know," Voldemort said.
"We are not exactly sure yet," Dumbledore clarified at Fudge's questioning look.
"Well," Bagman said. "Should I just leave this here, then?"
He lifted the sack of gold slightly and pointed to Harish's bedside table. Voldemort nodded.
"Poppy," Dumbledore said, halting Madam Pomfrey as she started back toward her office. "May I speak with you alone, please?"
Madam Pomfrey nodded and he followed her to his office. While they were leaving, Fudge, Bagman, and Flitwick left the ward as well. Bagman left the castle, Fudge went to wait on Dumbledore in his office, and Flitwick went to guard the infirmary.
Once they were away from prying eyes, Dumbledore asked, "How exactly is he doing?"
"Mr. Blake is very lucky to be with us," Madam Pomfrey told him quietly. "I am sure the only thing that saved him was his magic. When he was first brought here, he was suffering from a severe concussion, a broken nose, several broken ribs, a sprained wrist, a broken arm, a broken leg and a good deal of bruising and scrapes all over his body, including one nasty cut that looked like he had gained it in the maze from a spider."
"What have you done to heal him, so far?"
"I reduced the swelling inside his brain that was causing the concussion, and minimized his bruises as well as mended his nose and sprained wrist and healed up the cut he had on his leg. His broken arm and leg had to be dealt with differently, as bones are very particular about regrowing. I mended them as much as I could for now, but he will have to be wearing those casts for at least the rest of the summer. He may need the one on his leg even longer."
"How badly was it hurt?"
"Aside from the four inch hole, he had a complete fracture. From what it looks like, it was already fractured when he came out of the maze, but during his fall his leg snapped clean in two. His arm, on the other hand, is just a closed fracture. It was incomplete and no surrounding skin was damaged."
Dumbledore winced.
Meanwhile Fred, George, Daphne, Hermione, Draco, and Ginny were all returning from the Quidditch stadium. They had lost sight of Harish after everyone went down to where he was to probably talk to him about his win. Then, they had moved down as quickly as the crowd permitted. Unfortunately, the crowd was moving very slowly, so by the time they reached the ground, Harish had already left (though they didn't know that). They milled about for at least ten minutes before realizing that he wasn't there and leaving.
"So where could he have gone?" Daphne asked as they climbed the steps to the castle.
"Probably went to get checked up by Madam Pomfrey," Hermione replied. "He looked pretty unstable on that leg."
Everyone else nodded.
"She probably had to wrestle—"
"Him just to let her mend it!" the twins said with a grin.
The others muttered their agreement, as they all knew how much Harish loathed admitting he was hurt.
"So should we meet him there or wait for him in the common room?" Draco asked.
"We should probably meet him there," Daphne replied. "And if he has to stay longer than expected, we could always go down to the dungeons."
"Okay," they all said and the six of them headed for the Hospital Wing.
When they arrived, they were surprised to find the doors closed with Professor Flitwick standing outside.
"Can we go in to see Harish?" Daphne asked apprehensively. Something must have happened, because normally professors didn't stand sentry outside.
"I am afraid that only his family is allowed in at the moment."
"Why?" Daphne asked, concerned. "What happened? He certainly wasn't hurt really bad when he came out of the maze."
"At the moment, I am afraid Mr. Blake could tell you that better than any of us could," Flitwick squeaked. "I don't know what happened myself, yet! I suggest you run along to bed."
Daphne nodded sullenly and they left, heading for their common room.
"Something must have happened," Draco stated, voicing her suspicions. "Normally they aren't this secretive."
"Yeah didn't his father leave?" Ginny asked. They all nodded. "Because I saw him running through the Entrance Hall with Dumbledore."
"Something definitely happened," Daphne agreed.
"Something bad," the twins added.