Harry Potter- The New Prophecy

Progress

The winter holidays soon ended, and once again, everyone was faced with the weight of the war. The papers were filled with nothing but misery and death. Even the muggles had begun to notice that something was wrong. It was the worst possible time for celebrations, and yet, that was exactly what the Potter's and Weasley's were doing.

Talk of the upcoming wedding was all that anyone seemed to be able to talk about. Especially Molly and Lily, who had grown closer as they worked together to plan the perfect wedding. They were often seen together, in the dark hours of the night, talking in hushed voices as they wrote down their ideas on a piece of parchment. With the two mothers in charge, as well as Hermione, who was to be Maid of Honor, Harry and Ginny found that they had very little planning to do themselves. This was a relief for Ginny, who was never much of a planner herself, and for Harry, who had begun to spend his extra time working on his exercises in hopes that he might see some improvement before the wedding.

Every night, after Ginny went to bed, Harry would sneak downstairs where his father, Ron, and sometimes Sirius would be waiting to help. They were the only ones to know about Harry's extra exercise sessions, and Harry was hoping he might see some improvement so he could surprise his wife.

One night, Harry made his way downstairs and was surprised to see a long wooden bar, similar to one seen in the muggle ballet classes that Hermione had once put Rose in, in the middle of the drawing room. Standing on either side were Ron and his father, and grinning in the back were Sirius and Remus.

"I hope you don't mind," Remus began, "but your dad told me about the extra exercises you've been doing. He told me that your next step is standing, and I thought this bar might help."

Harry looked at his father, who was shifting nervously on his feet. "I know you don't want everyone knowing, but I promise, Remus is the only person I told. He was always the brain of our group, and I figured he might have good ideas."

"We made him promise not to tell anyone else." Sirius said.

"I'd like to add that I had absolutely nothing to do with telling Remus about any of this." Ron added. "So if you're upset, you have no reason to take it out on me. I'm innocent!"

Harry looked at the nervous expressions around the room and snorted. "It's fine, really. I just don't want Gin finding out."

"Great!" James exclaimed. "Now that that's out of the way, let's get started."

The next couple of weeks were hard as Harry used all his strength to pull himself into a standing position, but it was all worth it in the end. By the end of January Harry had stood for the first time since the accident, and by the beginning of February, he was able to stand for several minutes at a time, as long as he was holding onto the bar. A couple of weeks after that and he was standing by himself.

"Well done," Sirius grinned as Harry sat back down. "I think this is a great cause for a celebration." He reached into a bag on the couch and pulled out a large bottle of Ogden's Firewhisky. They all headed to the kitchen, where Ron took out several glasses, and soon they were all seated with a glass of the throat-burning beverage. But although the others appeared to be in a great mood, Harry couldn't help but be a bit disappointed.

"You alright, Harry?" Ron asked.

"Fine." Harry lied, taking a large drink of his firewhisky.

Ron downed the rest of his drink in one gulp before putting the glass down on the table and letting out a large belch. "Bloody hell, Harry. You really are a terrible liar. You know that?"

Harry sighed. "The wedding is tomorrow. I was hoping I'd have made more progress."

"More progress?" Remus frowned. "Harry, you have made tremendous progress. The healers didn't expect you to come as far as you have. Less than a month ago, you could barely move. Now you're able to stand. That in itself is a miracle. You just have to give it time."

Give it time. Oh, how Harry hated those words. Time. How much time? Time wasn't guaranteed. Especially now that Voldemort was back. He could die tomorrow, and if he did, he would never walk again. Never hold his wife in his arms as they danced. Never be the man that he was before.

"Maybe this wedding renewal was a mistake." Harry sighed. "What kind of man am I if I can't even dance with my wife?"

"What kind of man?" Ron said, his voice rising as his anger grew. "I'll tell you what kind of man you are, Harry. You're the kind of man who fights for those he loves. The kind of man who would give his life if it meant saving someone he cared about. The kind of man most can only dream of being. The kind of man I am proud to call not only my best friend but my brother. It doesn't matter if you walk tomorrow or if you sit in your wheelchair. I would gladly watch you renew your vows to my sister, and I know she feels the same way. So stop feeling sorry for yourself, because, like you said, the wedding is tomorrow, and if you so much as think about backing out..."

"You'll kill me?"

"I won't have to." Ron said. "Because we all know Ginny will."

Harry couldn't help but chuckle, and soon the room was filled with laughter.

"I'll drink to that." Sirius said, raising his glass.

"Me too." James said, raising his own glass. "Hell hath no fury like an angry red head. Especially a pregnant red head."

And as the entire room took a drink, so did Harry. Deep down, he knew Ron was right.

"Look at the time!" Sirius exclaimed. "Speaking of pregnant women, I better get home. Corinne may not be a red head, but I don't want to face her wrath either." He downed the rest of his drink in one gulp and stood up. Then he turned and clapped Harry on the back. "Remus is right, you know. You really have made a lot of progress. I'm not sure I could have made half the progress you have."

"Thanks, Sirius." Harry said. "But I couldn't have done it without all of you."

Sirius bid everyone goodnight before leaving the room. After his departure, everyone else went up to bed. Everyone that is, except for Harry, who made his way to the drawing room, where the exercise bar still stood. Less than twenty-four hours until the wedding. He still had time, and he wasn't going to waste it on sleeping. He would walk at the wedding tomorrow if it was the last thing he did.