Harry wasn't even aware when they moved him from the grounds up to the Hospital Wing. He would learn later that he was magically exhausted and had burnt his magical channels. He hadn't even known what a magical channel was.

Magical channels were the gateways between a wizard's body, and the energy around them. Hogwarts was a magic rich environment. Any place where magical beings live or visit frequently, always is. Under normal circumstances, Harry would get a good night's sleep and would be at least replenished enough to be about his business.

That wasn't the case this time. Madame Pomfrey was very firm on his restrictions. He was on bed rest for, at least!, a week. He wasn't allowed to do any magic, his wand was locked in Pomfrey's office. He was told to sleep, a lot. When he complained she explained to him, just what he'd done to himself.

"You took in the magic too quickly. You'd already spent most of your body's capacity already. You may be a little firework, but you are still growing my lad." She waved her wand and an image appeared over his bed. A pipe with liquid flowing quickly and easily through. The water didn't even fill the pipe. "This is how your body normally takes in magic." She flicked her wand. The pipe was abruptly filled, then cracked open. The magic seemed to still flow on to it's destination but more flowed up and around the pipe and... Harry looked closer, the magic was eating at the pipe from the outside. "Then, instead of realizing your mistake, you just shoved it back out again. It's burned your magic channels both ways. If you hadn't stopped the magic would have continued to damage your channels. Honestly, I don't understand how you did this to yourself. It takes a lot of Will to force magic into yourself, beyond your channels' capacity to hold safely."

When he was slammed to the wall, he'd known he was exhausted. He hadn't realized that it was magical as well as physical. But his body had known, and when he'd readied himself for one more big spell, he'd reached out to the abundant energy around him and yanked.

"It's amazing you didn't collapse from the pain. But you didn't, because you have no self-preservation, and decided to do it again, in reverse! Pain, Harry, is your body telling you to stop." Her words were slow, almost sarcastic, and if Harry had to guess, she wanted to say something more about his lack of intelligence. He didn't remember it hurting, though. The adrenalin probably numbed him. Over the week, she had many opportunity to make up for her silence. She was firm that he not do something so foolish, reckless, and dangerous ever again.

What it came down to, is that, until his burnt channels healed, he shouldn't take in magic to replace all of the magic he'd spent. So he was given a magic inhibitor potion. Any magic he did before healing would only damage them further. The physical injuries, the bruises, two cracked ribs, and the cut to his throat were all healed in hours. The throat wound, a serious, life threatening injury on a muggle, left barely a scar. A new thin line ran from just to the left of his adam's apple to two inches below his left ear. It wasn't even noticeable if you didn't know it was there. When he looked in the mirror he could hardly believe it was so small.

The first time he'd woken though, was not to Madame Pomfrey.

"Harry! Harry c'mon. Wake up," an unfamiliar voice whispered. A hand was gently shaking his shoulder.

Harry groggily opened his too dry eyes to see...Ron? No Fred? No. He blinked rapidly. Charlie. Huh? His mind was too slow. He couldn't figure out what Charlie Weasley was doing at Hogwarts in his dorm. Then he took in his surroundings. He was in the Hospital Wing.

"There you are! Mate, you sure had me worried!" Charlie seemed to be checking Harry's forehead, then his eyes for tracking, but he looked relieved. Satisfied he leaned back in the uncomfortable visitor's chair. Harry wanted to look behind him, to see who Charlie was talking to.

Harry spoke the amazingly articulate, "What?" in response.

Charlie chuckled. "Blimey mate, you blow everyone's expectations. Nice one with the Winter spell. It's what I would have used, not that nasty Conjunctivitis curse, Krum used. We lost three eggs! Three! Not that I would have been able to do the Winter spell when I was 14. Blew everyone away, that last one did, felt like a visit from an ice drake. What could the judges do after that but give you top marks? Well not completely. Karkaroff gave you a truly pathetic score, the scum." He finally seemed to slow his speech enough to notice Harry was only following half his conversation.

"So, how are you doing, Harry? Pomfrey isn't allowing visiters, but I snuck in when she went to get lunch. I can't stay long enough for her to get over her mothering. I've got to help get the dragons back to the preserve but I wanted to check on you. Mum and Bill won't stop pestering me. Bill wanted me to give you the Secrets of Dragon Taming. Which, there isn't any. And he knows that. Stupid git. If I'd tried to even give you tips though, I might have been fired. Not to mention, the Goblet might have found you in breach of contract." Charlie looked like he was trying to apologize or something, so Harry nodded vaguely.

"Mum's even worse though, if you can believe it. Goes on and on, 'He still cries for his parents, I never knew! The poor dear!' Mum's a bit of a sucker for the Daily Prophet. I'm sorry about that. I tried to tell her that no 14 year old boy would confess that load a dung to a reporter, She just told me that you must be a very sensitive boy. ... Are you a very sensitive boy, Harry?" This last question he seemed to actually expect an answer. Because he finally, finally stopped talking. But he was smirking wickedly.

Knowing he was being goaded, Harry still couldn't help being outraged, "No! I could murder Skeeter for the lies she told." His words were as fierce as a kitten's claws.

Charlie laughed, "I thought so. I'll try again to convince Mum. Don't think it will help. You'll probably be her fragile boy for a while."

Charlie continued to chat, not saying anything important. But Harry found it comforting. He didn't have any energy to respond and found himself drifting in a pleasant haze, enjoying the gossip.

Suddenly a tiny american voice spoke up from Charlie's robe collar. "Charlie, where the hell are you, dude? We need you ten minutes ago." An equally tiny roar was heard. "Shit! Charlie!" Harry looked closer at the collar and saw a tiny metal dragon pinned there. It was swishing it's tail back and forth in agitation. Charlie meanwhile was wincing, and gathering up his discarded cloak. His hand lifted to touch the moving pin, "Jack, I'm on my way. Sorry I got distracted with family business." He let go, and sighed.

Standing up, Charlie looked around, then walked to Pomfrey's desk. He tapped a parchment with his wand, which then floated to be level with his head. He spoke to it, "Fred, George, Ron, Ginny. I'll be leaving shortly. I want to see you before I go. Please come down to the arena. I have to help pack up the dragons for travel but I should have a little while after that to chat. Charlie." He tapped the parchment again, and it glowed briefly, then it split into four different parchments, and they turned into paper airplanes and zoomed from the room.

Charlie came back to the bed where Harry was trying to look awake. "Sorry Harry, gotta run. No worries though, I'll tell Bill you were bravely heroic, and that his little pen pal will be just fine." He winked and ruffled Harry's hair.

He was gone before Harry could even say goodbye. Harry was asleep again before he could even blink twice.

The next day, after Madame Pomfrey had given him her scolding and restrictions, he woke to Hermione and Ron on either side of his bed. Hermione was quietly holding his hand and reading from a thick tome. Ron was steadily working his way through Harry's get well candy.

Harry cleared his throat and they both snapped their heads toward him.

"Oh Harry!" Hermione exclaimed and smothered him in her bushy brown hair as she gave him a hug. "I'm so glad you're okay. That dragon was awful. I don't know what they were thinking." She finally let go and relaxed back into her chair.

"Yeah, mate. I mean you were pretty brilliant, but I thought you were dead at least a dozen times. Madame Pomfrey says you'll be alright but, she didn't keep any of the other champions more than a few minutes. You sure you're okay?" Ron asked.

Harry blinked. He looked between them expecting... something. But then he realized what he was missing. They had forgiven HIM, because he had almost died. Obviously any wrong doing on their parts would also be forgiven for the same reasons. In their minds, everything was now alright. Harry had been the one most in the wrong, consorting with the evil, dark wizard Bill. They didn't need to apologize. Maybe they were right. If they had apologized, he knew he would have forgiven them.

It had been an awful, lonely month. They'd left him to fend for himself. Ron had called him all sorts of things. But they'd been worried about him when a large, fire breathing, dragon tried to roast him. Did that make it all better?

Harry wanted to be angry. Say he didn't need their friendship. Didn't need them. And he didn't. He knew he could get along with out them. But Harry was tired of fighting. Fuck, he was exhausted. He sighed.

The silence stretched. He'd lost track of what they were saying. "I'll um, I'll be fine," he said reluctantly.

He wouldn't forget. But maybe he could let it go. He could tell them he wanted an apology, but it would either be a fake apology or start the whole argument again. Even if they apologized, he didn't think it would be worth it. He'd missed them so much, he didn't want to go on as he'd been.

He smiled softly. "I'll be ok. I'm just so tired." They smiled back, having no idea how disappointed he was. He didn't know what the future of his friendship with them looked like, but if felt changed.

Day three he'd been awake for most of the day, even if he was too tired to do more than go to the bathroom. At least Pomfrey wasn't whisking away his waste with magic anymore. That had been humiliating.

In the period before lunch, Ron came in. It was his free period. He looked rather strained. He sat down and began flipping a roll of parchment between his fingers.

"Hey Harry," he said, his voice subdued.

"Hey Ron, what's up?"

Ron opened his mouth and closed it several times. He seemed more frustrated with himself each time he failed to say anything.

"Why do you write my brother?" Ron blurted, finally.

Harry blinked in confusion. He hadn't expected this to be about Bill, but he didn't know what he had expected. Harry relaxed into his pillows and thought about it. He ignored Ron's fidgeting.

"He's... different. Or he treats me different. He's a friend, but also a teacher? Not about dark magic, though the subject has come up, but about wizarding things in general. And he doesn't treat me like The Harry Potter. I know you guys don't mean to. No one even realizes they'er doing it but, you expect things. You expect me to be adventurous and daring. Others assume I'm spoiled. To Bill, its like I'm like any other muggle raised wizard. He explains things, and he doesn't mind my questions.

"When I ask you or Hermione you both look at me like I should know already. Hermione who is just as muggle raised as me! Though sometimes I think Hermione just thinks she knows the answer, but because she got the answer from a book, she gets it all wrong. Like that fucked up mess with S.P.E.W.

"But really, Ron, it's not a mystery. He's a friend. I like talking to him, telling him my problems. I like it when he tells me the cool things he's doing. And the candle I tried to tell you about, Ron? It was one of the coolest presents I've ever gotten." Harry bit his lip, feeling stupidly emotional just discussing it. He hurried on. "I mean, no one has ever... My muggle relatives told me they died in a drunken accident! So, yeah, being able to connect with them, mourn them. It was... it just was! Okay?" Harry turned his face away from Ron. He waited then for Ron's mocking laughter.

Arms wrapped around Harry and Ron's face was wet against his neck. "Shit, mate. I'm so sorry. I should'a been a better mate." Harry's own eye's teared. Discussing the candle had brought his emotions to the fore. Now he was relieved that Ron didn't laugh at him. But mostly he was just happy that Ron, finally, really, felt like his best friend again.

A few minutes later they separated. It was awkward, and neither mentioned the tears as they quickly swiped them away. Ron changed the subject clumsily by talking about the other champions and their go at their dragons. He didn't seem to know who to cheer for, other than Harry. Fleur had captured Ron at first lust, Krum was his quidditch hero, and Cedric was Hogwarts champion.

They'd settled back comfortably and were discussing if Krum should have lost more points for killing the eggs, when Ron seemed to remember he had a crumpled parchment in his hand. He sheepishly gave it to Harry.

"I...um. I. I read it. I just wanted to know, you know? He's my brother. I guess I've been kinda jealous." Ron rubbed the back of his neck.

Harry, knowing now what it was, opened his letter from Bill.

Harry,

I hope you're alright. I've asked my supervisor twice if I could have the day off. Relflat just tells me to get back to work. You, kind of, have to be dying to get an unscheduled day off around here. So I'll just have to send my best wishes and good luck. It sounds like you have a solid plan in place at least. I wish there was more I could do.

Of course you're guardians get reports on how you're doing. Every quarter they get a status update. Lets them know if they're kid is top of the class, bottom of the barrel, struggling with a subject, doing better in the practicals, that sort of thing. Haven't your relatives talked to you about them? Mum and Dad always get them by owl, of course. But if your guardians don't like getting owls, I'm sure the school was accommodating and sends them by muggle post. You never talk about your family. Neither does Ron for that matter. Are they very strict? Is that why you're worried? But if they are, why wouldn't they want you to do well academically? Or are they more into physical pursuits? Ron says you're magic on a broom. I want to see you play. Did you play a muggle sport then? If you wanted I'm sure Professor McGonagall could give you copies of your reports. The student's Head of House is in charge of all communications with families.

Keep going with your extra classes. I'm so happy that you chose the path best for you, and not just the easiest road. I know it's hard, but I have faith you can do it. I'm sure McGonagall knows it too. She's gotta be under a lot of pressure with the Tri-wizard tournament. She's usually really supportive of students making class changes. You probably just caught her in a bad moment.

You had real premonitions about a future event! I'm amazed Harry. I thought with the damage you'd done it would be ages before you saw anything. You must have incredible ability. I didn't expect you to erase all that work but I'm glad you did. You apparently impressed Magic as well. Will you tell me if you see anything else? I told you, I have no ability myself, but I'm very curious about the subject.

I'd sympathize about Snape, but I'm sure Ron does plenty of that already. I know plenty about what a huge git he is from him. He didn't seem that bad when I was there. He was strict and mean, but what you two describe is just, petty.

I wish I could tell you how to become a potions master, unfortunately, I barely got an acceptable Newt. I'm not very good. I know enough to get by. And enough to know when I need to get a real potions expert. You could get yourself a tutor. Put a notice on the Gryffindor message board, saying you'll pay a sickle per lesson. You're bound to get a few bites. You could do that for any of your subjects really. Keep it in mind if you get stuck with Ancient Runes or Arithmancy.

I guess since I've brought up money though I should talk about the subject I've been avoiding. Why is Ron so sensitive about money? I don't know. I know that when I was growing up it was very different. I was first born. I had the first and best of everything. If Charlie got my hand me downs, he generally didn't mind. I took care of my things, which helped. Also I was the first to go to Hogwarts. I don't know if your guardians mentioned it, but Hogwarts costs a great deal. Whatever Ron thinks or has giving you the impression of, the Weasley's aren't poor. Or they wouldn't be if they didn't have so many children in school. I guess that's part of Ron's resentment. He probably has dreams of being an only child. To me, the thought of not having even one of my siblings is awful. Not that Ron doesn't love all of us, you and I both know that's not the case. But Mum and Dad currently have four children going to Hogwarts. They had five last year. That lottery must have seemed like a miracle.

Mum and Dad could be much more comfortable, if they were willing to sacrifice their children's futures. Not everyone goes to Hogwarts, or even a wizarding school in general. It's old family wizarding prejudice but you can have all the outstanding NEWTs in the world, and you won't get anywhere without a reputable school's name attached.

People homeschool for many reasons, money being primary. If you ask Pennyworth Parkinson why someone would homeschool he'd say, "The poor fools are trying to hide a squib." Or something like. It's a common belief among the old purebloods. Mostly because it's the only reason they would have for homeschooling.

My longwinded point is that Mum and Dad only want the best for us. Ron might feel the pinch when he can't have new brooms or new robes. But he'll be able to apply where ever his ambitions lead him someday. I just wish he had more ambitions. He seems to think because one of us have already done something, its no longer worth doing.

He'll figure it out someday I hope. He's the smartest one of us, when he can concentrate. He stopped playing chess against us years ago, said it was harder playing himself, we were too easy to predict.

As for your friend, or potential friend, I'm sorry to say there is no password or secret handshake. You'd probably be best off just getting him alone and being honest. Say you've met a friend who's a traditionalist, and you wondered if he might know someone at school who was also a traditionalist. Don't ask if he practices dark magic. Telling someone you don't completely trust that you're a dark wizard, is asking the aurors to come and get you. If he tells you he isn't a traditionalist. I'd ask you not to push. He might be lying but it's his decision to reveal that to you.

I asked Charlie to keep an eye on you while he's there. Hopefully he's not annoying you too badly.

Good luck, and hopefully I'll talk to you soon.

Bill

Harry rolled the letter back up and put it on the bedside. There was so much he wanted to think about in that letter but now wasn't the time. Ron was still sitting there, anxiously waiting for Harry to say something.

Harry thought about being angry about Ron's invasion of his privacy. If the letter had held anything more sensitive he probably would be unable to help himself. But he looked at Ron again, and was able to completely squash the idea.

Ron looked out the window like it was suddenly fascinating. Harry guessed he could understand. Bill had been a little too bluntly honest about their family situation, and Ron's character, to be comfortable for Ron. Ron's own tears made a little more sense now. Worse, he expected Harry to agree. You'd rather have fancy robes than have your sister? You'd rather the twins weren't around so you could have a broom? To be sure, Ron probably did wish those things, sometimes, and not seriously. Especially when Ginny got special treatment for being the only girl, or the twins played a nasty trick on him, or Percy was being his sanctimonious self. But if someone offered a million galleons for even just one of Ron's siblings, Harry knew which one Ron would pick. It wouldn't be the gold.

"Hey Ron, I'm going to say something that Bill said to me. Then I won't bring this letter up again. Okay?" Harry paused. Ron had tensed as if expecting a blow. "I know you. And I know you can do better." Harry wanted to add to that, talk about how smart Ron was, how great a friend, but it felt like too much pressure.

Instead it reached to his bedside table and grabbed his exploding snap deck. "Do you wanna play a game?" And that was the end of it. At least for now.