Regained Moments

Chapter 15

Harry was red eyed and quite when they reached the Potter house. He wasn't fighting them, but he was making it obvious that he was unhappy. His face was pouty, but he wasn't struggling to get out of Euphemia's grip.

"Harry, welcome home." Euphemia put Harry down, where he sat, in a silent strop.

"You're welcome to go anywhere on the ground floor or first floor. If the door to the kitchen is closed that means there are brownies in there, in which case don't go in. Sprites will be working around, but you don't have to worry about them. They are pure magic." Fleamont explained to Harry, before taking Harry's hands and moving so they had eye contact. "Harry. This bit is important. Do not go into the basement. It's where I make potions and, unless I am the one taking you there, it is dangerous."

Harry was still doing a silent protect, but he still nodded his head to show he had heard. He really was an overly well behaved child.

"Harry!" Euphemia called from a bookshelf by two large, glass doors leading to the garden that was filled with plants perfect for potions, and a small Quidditch pitch.

Harry didn't move an inch, but he did look over to her.

"Why don't we try playing a game? I know you're missing James, but he's right to think that you're safer here, and you're still going to see him a lot." Euphemia held up a muggle board game.

After a moment of silence Harry crawled over to Euphemia to play the game.

-----

It had been about a week since Harry had gone to stay with Euphemia and Fleamont, the relationship between the three of them had improved so much. The two of them had taken Harry shopping for clothes and toys, though in the end Harry's favourites were the ones that used to belong to James.

Harry had stopped using male pronouns all together, though they were still more often masculine presenting. Brightly coloured and soft clothes were their favourite. James also owned a lot of stuffed toys that he would leave at home rather than take them with him to Hogwarts, and with permission during the previous fire call, Harry walked around with one of them, though it wasn't always the same. They liked to sleep with one that looked hand stitched which was a stag with lilies wound around its antlers, but would always put it back in James' room in the morning.

Harry was running along the first floor corridor, grey wolf plushie in hand, when they came across a sprite. Immediately they came to a stop, still unsure of the magical tools. Harry had always been very in tune with the magic surrounding them, though was still rather unused to being around more than their own, they were still most comfortable with James' which provided warmth and comfort, whereas the Sprite, being a tool made purely from magic that wove around itself to create a vaguely human winged form, the magic felt like a tangled mess. It was like a ball of hair that felt and looked like a spider for Harry.

Tentatively, as though walking on a thin ledge off a cliff, Harry edged their way past the sprite. Unfortunately they weren't careful enough and brushed against it.

-----

Euphemia felt a wave of horror rush through her as she heard a loud crash from the first floor where Harry had been playing.

"Harry!?" In spite of her efforts to keep her voice calm, it shook with her fear as she called up for her grandchild.

She got no response.

Not even stopping long enough to put the jar of pickled tad eyes she was taking to Fleamont down she ran upstairs with a speed she didn't even know she could reach. She knew that Harry was afraid of the sprites, and that there was one upstairs with them, but simple fear could not cause a noise like the one she heard.

A crash of the shattered jar filled the hall as silence fell when she finally saw Harry.

The sprite that had definitely been cleaning the windows in that corridor was gone, and Harry was sprawled on the floor. Their mouth was open in a silent scream and their eyes looked like they were bulging out of their skull.

Magic was swirling around Harry, the reason the wall to the front of the house no longer existed, along with the window the sprite was supposed to be cleaning. The magic furthest away from Harry was still blue, like sprites, but the magic closest to them was clearly their own.

"Harry!" Euphemia yelled through the strong movement of the magic once she finally found her voice again, but she was still getting no response.

She reached a hand towards Harry, only to get her palm severely slashed, now bleeding profusely. She knew she wasn't going to be able to deal with this alone, and that this was something time critical. As much as she didn't want to leave Harry, she rushed back downstairs, bursting through the door to the basement.

"Fleamont!" She yelled, heart still pounding, a line of drops of blood tracing her path.

"What's wrong?" He would usually be the type to be angry at any disturbance, however her tone was clearly one of panic, which broke through any of his anger.

"Harry, magic swirling, dangerous, help." She gasped, hands still shaking as she tried to communicate.

"Where?" He was immediately on his feet, glancing at her bleeding hand.

"First floor, broken wall." She didn't know her face was wet.

"Go to St Mungo's. Now. Make sure they know it's an emergency." Fleamont grabbed her shoulders and looked her dead in the eye, his voice forcibly calm.

She nodded, running back to the fire as Fleamont grabbed a few, less than mature Potion Mushrooms as he ran upstairs.

-----

Fleamont was sitting in the waiting room, his knee shaking. He had already done everything he could for the situation; Euphemia had managed to get the emergency team from St Mungo's, he had tried the Potion Mushrooms to reduce the amount of magic, though it didn't work, he had contacted Hogwarts to make sure James knew, and he had come to the hospital with his wife and grandchild. Now all he could do was wait.

"Dad!" James yelled as he ran out of the fireplace, his robes singed at the bottom, though it was obvious that he had run into the fire before the floo network had connected. "What happened?"

"I'm not sure." Fleamont didn't look up at his son, more scared than he was willing to admit. "I think Harry absorbed a sprite. Potion Mushrooms didn't help."

"James." Euphemia greeted her son as she came out, her hand healed, but still bandaged due to sensitivity. She had been given a potion to help with shock, but she was still recovering.

"Mum, where's Harry, are they alright?" James' eyes were still wide and fearful as he found himself unable to think about anything except Harry.

"James, we don't know anything yet. We know it's hard, but you need to be patient." Fleamont spoke over any response Euphemia could be forming.

"Potters?" A healer with dark skin and a star of David hanging around their neck called. "Please come in."