A/N: THANKS FOR REVIEWS. It's 11. I have school tomorrow and I'm tired as hell. Just er hope you enjoy this chapt...zzzzzzzz

-lauralydney

P.S: only like 2 chapters left of this fic. 4 max...review please. Help me somehow get 100 reviews before then you amazing peoples.

Chapter 25

When Harry woke up, his right arm was freezing. The rest of him was pretty chilly too, but the numbness throughout the limb began to spread. What he could feel of his bottom half was rather warm. A bed with covers. Harry lifted his arm to pull it under the sheets only to be stopped. Something was restraining him.

Then a beeping noise. His eyes shot open.

Where the hell am I?

He looked to the side where his arm lay hooked up to an I.V.

Hospital. Muggle hospital.

Pain exploded in his shoulder the minute he tried to sit up.

"Woah there, lad. Gonna need you to rest a bit. You've just gone through surgery."

Slowly, Harry moved his head towards where the voice was. His glasses weren't on him, so he could only make out the lab coat in a brightly lit room. It didn't sound anything like the 'doctor' back at the cabin.The cabin. How had he gotten out?

For now, all he could manage was a weak, "surgery?"

The doctor walked closer to Harry. "You're femur was severely fractured from a bullet wound. A femoral shaft fracture, if you will. We needed to get the bullet out of your thigh and you into a cast. Might not want to go near any metal detectors any time soon," the man tried joking.

"Femur?"

"Yes," the doctor sighed sadly. "I'm afraid a break of this gravity will take months to heal. I won't bother you for too long, but I'm afraid that later you will need to answer a few questions. For now just rest. You've had quite a few blood transfusions, but you still need to eat something, alright?"

Harry nodded, still wishing he could sit up. Somehow, he had to get out of here. Just one spell from a trained wizard and all the damage could be fixed. Damage. Where was Linda?

"Excuse me?" Harry said before the doctor could leave. "I had a friend with me. Do you know what happened to her?"

The doctor smiled at him. "Ah, yes. Which of the stubborn ones might that be? There's another girl at the hospital that came with you. Black hair, possible Vietnamese background?"

"Linda," Harry croaked.

"She's up and about. Not a scratch on her."

"Are there others here?"

"There's the girl that drove you here. About four others showed up later. I told them they couldn't see you until you woke up," the man said unapologetically.

It was too much to take in. Too many unanswered questions and his eyelids began to feel heavy once again. "I'm Doctor Stanley by the way. Should I tell your friends to come in now? Only two at a time, I'm afraid."

Harry nodded again. Speaking hurt. His throat felt like sand paper. When was the last time he drank some water?

Stanley exited quietly, soon emerging once again, accompanied by Ron and Hermione.

"Harry!" The two wizards rushed over.

"I'll leave you three alone for a while," Stanley said without looking at them. The man was fawning over several different papers.

When the door finally shut behind them, the real talking began.

"What the hell is on your arm? Is that—is that stuck inside your arm?!"

"Inside his vein, Ronald. It delivers medication into his system."

"Vein? You said they would heal him not kill him!"

"Yeah, well if it's pain medication it sure isn't bloody working," Harry moaned.

Hermione's eyes softened. "You did great, Harry. You got Linda out and destroyed the Witch Hunter's hide out."

Harry knew that face. There was more to the story. Right now didn't seem like the time to ask, so he didn't press it. Linda was safe. That's what mattered.

"Where are Mike and Darren?"

"In the lobby," Ron told him. "Amber is with them too."

"Amber?"

"About that," Ron laughed. "Blimey, Harry. You sure know how to pick 'em—Ouch! I'm just telling the truth, Mione. No need to get violent."

Harry rolled his eyes.

"As I was saying—apparently she stole her dad's car—again—this time a real big one. Don't know what type of car. We got a call from her demanding to know where we were. We wouldn't budge until the hour was up."

"You were in there for four hours, Harry," Hermione interrupted, shaking her head. A dark, worrisome look crossed her face as if she were back out there again, waiting for Harry to come out.

"We finally called her back and told her to bring the D.A. Of course, we had to tell her exactly what was happening. Next thing we know, psycho girl is driving a car through the cabin front. She and the rest of the D.A got you and Linda off the ground and into the back of the van."

Harry was too weak to reply. Amazed, but weak. It got quite as the tired, stress filled eyes of his friends lay on his injuries. A blush crept up on Harry's face at the realization of how helpless he truly was at the moment.

"How are you feeling?" Hermione finally asked.

"Like hell."

"Er...you need anything, mate?"

"Water would be great."

Hermione looked around the room. In the corner was a food tray with orange slices, dry cracker, and a water bottle. She brought the tray over by his bedside.

With one arm wrapped up from the bullet wound and the other hooked to an I.V., Harry looked sheepishly to his friends.

"Oh, right," Hermione uncapped it and put it to his lips.

Harry drank greedily, draining the entire bottle. "Don't worry about your injuries. McGonagall will be over tomorrow morning to heal them and bust us out of here. Sorry, but we had to tell her what happened after you got hurt."

"Why tomorrow?"

"Well, later on today. It's four in the morning."

Harry looked at their bloodshot eyes, feeling guilty for them worrying for him. "You guys should go and rest, I'll be fine."

Ron looked uncertainly at the beeping machines and gadgets surrounding his friend. The yawn that escaped his lips made the decision for him.

Ron placed his phone on Harry's lap. "Call if you need us, okay? We'll be in the lobby."

Harry's eyelids were already closed before they reached the door.

He dreamed about the cabin. This time, Cole was asking the questions. The young muggle kept repeating the same phrase over and over, each time scrunching up his face and cocking his head to the side as though he hadn't heard. The room was silent and empty enough for Harry's voice to echo loudly between them. Nonetheless, he was forced to repeat it.

The only truly frightening aspect of his dream was Cole's shaking hand as he aimed the gun to Harry's head.

"Are you evil?"

If Harry gave the wrong answer, he would die.

"No!"

"Are you evil?"

"No!"

Are you evil?"

"No!"

The bang woke him up.

Harry gasped for air like a newly surfaced swimmer, instinctively attempting to sit up. Once again, the pain of hell fire burned in his shoulder.

Crying out, he lied down once again.

A cold hand rested on his sweaty forehead.

Amber's day-old mascara stained eyes looked down at him.

"Should I call the Doctor?"

The covers—Harry realized—were pulled down to his ankles. Amber's presence made him overly aware of how stupid he looked in the hospital gown (not to mention his uncovered backside).

"Um...no. What time is it?"

"Nine. Hermione said your teacher would be here soon. Linda and I have to leave. Apparently they forgot to mention we know your little secret."

Harry laughed, until he realized that hurt too. "How's Linda handling it?"

"Oh you know...Questioning the principles of science and all that. Oh, I brought you something."

Amber pulled out a large white paper bag. "I don't know if you've ever tasted hospital food, but fries are a lot better. You can take as an 'I'm sorry I almost hit you with my van' gift."

"Right," Harry said, remembering what Ron had said. A smile crossed his face as he pictured Amber driving through the streets with the D.A huddling in fear in the back. "I would be mad for almost getting yourself killed if you hadn't saved us. I can't believe you drove a van through the cabin. Where you dropped on your head at cheer?"

Amber shoved a fry in his mouth before he could continue the lecture.

That's how he spent the first part of the hour before McGonagall could arrive—avoiding the mesmerizing eyes of a muggle as she fed him fries and soda.

Harry had been exceedingly thirsty since the accident. Just before McGonagall arrived, Harry discovered the bedpan was the worst experience of muggle hospitals.

The professor made his getting out of there incredibly simple. Just a couple memory erasing charms here and there, and the secrecy problem was fixed. After fixing his leg and angrily throwing his clothes and wand (luckily the doctors hadn't thrown the stick looking object away) to him, they were good to go.

He, Ron, and Hermione had detention for as long as they remained in Walker High. Telling McGonagall he'd already scored detention with the Headmistress didn't help his case.

With all that was going on Harry decided to inform McGonagall about the final battle later.

Had it been a week day, Harry was sure even Hermione would've agreed to skip class upon their return. They left for the dorms to quietly celebrate victory with a continuation of their nap.

As Harry found out, the quiet morning was not what fate had planned for him.

Mike, Darren, and Linda waited for him inside.

Mike sat awkwardly on his bed, staring down at his swinging feet.

Linda and Darren immediately pulled Harry inside, as if instead they owned the place.

Linda pulled Harry into a tight hug. "You saved me!"

"What'd I tell you? See guys? See? I knew we could trust him," Darren said.

Mike coughed loudly and Linda let go. The blond teen stood and walked up to Harry, towering about a head's length in comparison.

However, his intimidation stature meant nothing in that moment and they all knew it. Harry had powers and Mike had wronged him and the other wizards.

The room grew silent until Mike spoke up.

"So...witches, huh?"

Harry pursed his lips, tired of the constant misconception. "Wizards."

More silence.

"Wizard, witch, fairy, leprechaun—whatever. I mean what can a guy expect? You three began acting all strange and secretive. Next thing I know Linda is gone and you attack a man with hell knows what."

"Mike!" Darren hissed.

It appeared Harry should be mad, but he just couldn't be. He had been in Mike's shoes when meeting Sirius. The only father figure he had was a man the young teen once suspected to be a serial killer. Under Mike's circumstances, Harry wouldn't have acted any differently.

"What I mean is that I'm—" Mike coughed loudly. "I was wrong. I'm sorry."

"It's okay, really. But it's not me you need to apologize to."

"He can apologize to Ron later," Darren cut in. "Show us some magic first!"

"huh?"

Harry shook his head, dazed.

"It's not every day you find out your friends are witches. Please! Just a few spells and stuff."

The three muggles looked at him eagerly.

"Wizards, and I'm not sure that's a good idea. It's not even legal for you to know about this, let alone have me put on a magic show like some trained circus magician."

"Five pounds says you can't levitate the bed."

"Darren—

"Or give Darren a mustache."

"That's no—

"Or turn that lamp into a potato."

"I give up."

"We'll shut up if you do it," Linda promised.

Mike and Darren sat back down on the bed, Mike pulling Linda onto his lap. Before he knew it , all three were chanting 'Potter! Potter! Potter!'

Goodbye, nap.

Emily and Andrew stood in the middle of the crowded hallway surrounded by a large crowd. On his way to detention with Cole, Harry wandered over to inspect the commotion.

The sound of slamming lockers, zipping backpacks, and excited chatter surrounded a small table with no chairs.

After pushing his way to the center he saw the flustered duo rambling and scrambling madly, giving out tickets and counting money. The Wicca wonderland posters where plastered in a messy array behind them.

"Down beasties! There's enough for all of you!" Andrew yelled over the crowd.

A dance. What a strange concept of ordinary celebration after what he'd been through. Harry had never been to a muggle ball. Studying the crowd, he wondered if there was much difference between the two.

The tickets weren't that expensive, only £3 each. Buying one was tempting, but just as quickly as the prospect of fun entered his mind, it exited, replaced by that of the soon to be Witch Hunter invasion.

So many student's had gathered to buy tickets, that even if Harry could go, getting through the crowd was one Triwizard Tournament trial he didn't want to face.

Just when he was about to turn back, a familiar figure walked past him .

Harry froze, recognizing the dark hair and broad stature of the muggle he'd pelted with a water balloon. He reminded Harry of some teen celebrity Linda talked about often with that roughed up but boyish complexion—Leonardo DiCaprio. Tall and pale with a timeless face, making it impossible to know his exact age.

Malfoy walked beside him.

He and Draco both wore leather jackets and slick gelled back hair. The other students made way for them.

Sighing when he didn't notice him, Harry had begun to walk again before he heard, "Amber? No, you can ask her. Marry her for all I care," Draco told the jock.

"A ticket for me and her it is. Can't believe you let that one go, mate, a hot girl like her. I'll ask her the first chance I get."

Like hell you will.

Eyes locked on the two the whole way, harry watched as they both bought two tickets. Once they were gone, Harry whispered, "let the fourth task begin," and dove into the mob.

By the time Harry reached detention, he was sweaty, panting, bruised, and victoriously holding two Halloween ball tickets.

"You're late, Potter."

"I was—"

The Headmistress put a hand up, pacing around the room. "No need to explain. Just take a seat beside Mr. Quinn. I have a special detention planned for the both of you," she looked from Cole to Harry with a mix between a devious and an amused smile.

Harry did as he was told, avoiding eye contact with Cole.

Mrs. Gray left the room, leaving the two alone in silence. Whatever she had planned, Harry knew he wouldn't enjoy it.

"You're alive," Cole stated.

Harry looked turned to him. "As are you."

That was the end of the conversation. Mrs. Gray walked back in with a bucket and two brushes. "I assume neither of you are allergic to paint? I've brought two of those mouth and nose head coverings just in case. Sergio here will lead you to the school fence. Be sure not spill any of that paint on the side walk, understood?"

A short, chubby man stood behind the headmistress carrying a small ladder. He wore a janitor's uniform, but his face looked more like someone you'd find shirtless, wearing big red boxing gloves while flipping TV channels. 'El Luchador wins the first round, folks!'

Harry and Cole looked distastefully at each other.

Bonding exercise. Get the two boys to work to together, and maybe they'll work out their differences. The Headmistress couldn't be more wrong, Harry thought. This wasn't some petty personal disagreement such as the one he had with Malfoy. Cole was evil.

They followed Sergio out into the cold. If grunting counted as instructions, it was the only manual labor tip he gave them before departing.

"Shall we get started then?" Harry said to Cole with sarcastic cheerfulness.

Cole grunted like Sergio and picked up the paint brush.

The fence was wooden and rather tall, about the average room distance from floor to ceiling.

Cole painted in silence, occasionally throwing empty glances at Harry. The only other sound besides that of the wet squish of the white satin on wood and rustle of leaves was the loud, yet distant sound of the Walker high students prancing around the school—talking, shouting, laughing, playing—in the Saturday joy.

What would have his life been like if he'd never received his letter? The teen was supposed to assist a different school than that of Dudley's. Maybe in that safe haven his life wouldn't have been so bad. Linda, Mike, Darren, and Amber proved this much. A full experience of the muggle life filled with late night movie trips, camping out, clubs, sports would have been a journey that left a sweet, sparkling taste in Harry's mouth had it not been for Cole.

Calder had made him promise to keep his grandson safe, but watching and hearing about the other wizards going out to parities, malls, parks, or just plain kicking back and relaxing with their new muggle friends made Harry think that—just maybe—some promises were made to be broken.

Cole climbed up the ladder. It was beginning to darken by the time they started on the top part of the fence. Short and light as he was, the ladder shook under his weight. Once on top, carefully he began painting.

Harry let him have it because of his height and settled for jumping and stretching to reach the high parts. Occasionally, Cole would hop off, move the ladder, and paint another part of the fence. The wind began to increase gradually until it was a furious howl. They were almost finished. Darkness surrounded them with the exception of the glowing moon and only a mere two meters of fence were left.

The ladder rattled slightly under Cole at first. It was without warning when the harmless shake morphed into a wind-born earthquake. Harry heard the noise and turned to see Cole gripping on to the seat of the wobbly death trap, yellow faced and frozen. Harry ran to steady it, leaves and dirt hitting his face.

The ladder tipped. Quickly, Harry dove, scrapping against the ground and triumphantly catching Cole like a nearly missed shot of volleyball.

All of this had come so fast, none of his heroic actions coming to conscience. An act of mere instinct ending with falling rain, lighting, thunder, and another large cracking sound that did not hail from the sky.

Cole slid off Harry's arms, skull intact. The muggle looked down at him, both wide eyed from the fall and as a prey watching a predator in relieved shock. A lamb perplexed by the lion's actions. The beast had had the target in site, yet spared its life. What an illogical nature.

In all honesty Harry didn't give a crap if he'd gained the vile lamb's trust or not. Scrapping his chest against the pavement had been nothing as he came to realize that the cracking sound had been his left arm. Cole might've been about to say something. Harry never found out over the scream.

"I wouldn't be lying to Mrs. Gray, you know, if I told her you broke my arm."