The Other Potter

Part 16

Harriet stood in front of the barrier of the isolation ward, her fingers pressed against it as if she could will the barrier away. Her heart hammered, and for a long moment she just stared at her father. He lay still, chest rising and falling slowly, surrounded by a haze of potions and magical wards.

He looked fragile -for the first time in her life- and that realisation hit her harder than any spell.

Looking at him. A memory hit her like a blow- the last time she'd seen him, he had kissed her forehead and said he loved her. And she had replied, so casually, "I know." She had meant it in the moment, but now the words stabbed her, twisting with guilt.

"Can he hear us?" she asked one of the healers, voice trembling.

"He's sleeping right now," the healer said softly, "and the potions we've given him to fight the pox are strong. He'll be groggy, but... some patients do seem to respond, to remember people speaking near them."

Harriet closed her eyes and let herself lean against the ward. She whispered softly, letting her voice carry all the emotion she couldn't physically reach through the magical barrier. "Daddy... I love you. Please get better. Come back to me. Please." Her voice broke as she added, "I need you."

She placed her hand flat against the ward, feeling the faint hum of protective magic. She could sense her own magic brushing against it, trying to push, to connect, to reach him, but the wards held firm. The frustration made her stomach twist, the fear clawing at her chest.

James appeared at her side, his expression pale and tight. He asked the healer quietly, "What... what's the prognosis?"

The healer shook his head slowly. "Your father is older, and the pox was caught late. The potions and wards are doing their best, but... it would be best to be prepared for the worst."

James's shoulders slumped, and he drew in a shaky breath before collapsing into Harriet's side. She wrapped her arms around him instinctively, letting him lean on her as she pressed her cheek to his. Both of them trembled silently, sharing a grief they could not speak.

"I... I can't..." James whispered, his voice breaking. "We can't lose him."

Harriet held him tighter, murmuring, "I know. I know. But we're here. We'll be here with him. We'll make him hear us."

She lifted her head slightly and whispered again toward the ward, letting her magic brush the barrier with tiny pulses, "Daddy... come back to us. Please. I love you so much. Please be okay."

The ward hummed faintly under her touch, a reminder that magic could only do so much.

She could not heal him directly, could not take away the sickness - but she could, would be, present. She could fight for him in the only way she could - by standing here, by holding James, and by pouring every ounce of love she had into the hope that he could feel it.

The two of them remained like that, leaning together, trembling, whispering, holding on, as the ward hummed between them and Charlus slept inside, fragile but alive.

///

Harriet barely registered the footsteps until a familiar presence was at her side. Without a word, she threw herself into Arcturus's arms, sobbing freely.

"Oh sweetheart..." he murmured, his voice low, steady. For all his frustration with Charlus in the past, Arcturus felt a pang of sympathy. No one deserved this, not even him. He held her firmly, letting her cry into his shoulder. "It's going to be alright. We'll make sure you're safe."

"I can't- he's, he's my dad!" Harriet choked out, her hands clutching at his robes.

Arcturus gently rubbed her back, keeping his own expression calm though his mind was heavy. "Your room at Castle Black... It's all set up. Everything you need, ready for you."