Harry's New Guardian by Healer Pomfrey

Chapter 1

Harry fiercely rubbed his eyes. Somehow, since he had returned to his relatives at the end of his fifth year at Hogwarts, his head and eyes had begun to hurt. At first he had believed lack of sleep to be the reason, but even two months later, during which he had been able to sleep ten hours each night, his condition hadn't improved.

From his experience, he knew that he couldn't ask his aunt for help, and since his broom was still confiscated at Hogwarts he couldn't fly to the school to search out Madam Pomfrey's help either. Fortunately, his headache was bearable, and his eyes were only slightly clouded and a white liquid was coming out of them, which was more unnerving than painful.

By the time he was going back to Hogwarts, he was already used to being in constant pain and to wipe his eyes rubbing out something white every few minutes.

"Harry looks worse for the wear," Hermione whispered to Ron while Harry talked to Neville on their way from the carriages that brought them up to the castle into the Great Hall.

"That's true; he looks as if he had cried a lot," Ron replied, looking over to his friend in concern.

"He's probably still mourning because of Sirius," Hermione said pensively, before they sat down at the Gryffindor table next to their friend to watch the Sorting.

"Harry, are you feeling all right?" Hermione asked hesitantly, seeing that Harry was more or less playing with his food.

"Yes of course, I m fine," Harry replied, surprised how observing his friend was.


"Now what's Gryffindor's newest relationship tragedy?" Professor Snape sneered at lunchtime, just after his Potions class with the sixth years Gryffindors and Slytherins.

"Why do you assume that there is something to tell?" the Headmaster asked interestedly.

"Did you get a look at Potter?" the Potions Master replied smirking. "His eyes are red as if he cried the whole night."

"And? Did you confront him and ask what was wrong?" Professor McGonagall enquired in obvious concern for her student.

"Of course not. He wouldn't tell me the truth anyway," her younger colleague replied, raising an eyebrow at his former teacher.


"How was your Potions class?" Ron enquired. He hadn't been admitted to the Potions NEWT class because he didn't receive the required grades in his OWLs in contrary to Harry, who had somehow managed to get a sufficient grade.

"Well, after Professor Snape told us that he couldn't understand how some of us managed to get into the class, he held a monologue about how difficult the class was going to be and that half of us was too much of a dunderhead to follow the class anyway," Hermione explained, before Harry interrupted her.

"Of course he was looking at me the whole time during his speech." 'Does he really assume the Ministry would give me an O in my Potions OWL as a present?' he mused, throwing an upset glance at the Potions Master at the Head table.

"Well, yes, I think he did," Hermione admitted, before she continued, "Afterwards he let us brew a Healing potion. It was interesting, but now it's time to head to Transfiguration. I've been looking forward to that the whole morning."

Tiredly rubbing his eyes, Harry followed his friends to the Transfiguration classroom, thinking, 'Well, I preferred if it was already after dinner; I don't know why, but my headache seems worse today.'


The sixth years Gryffindors and Slytherins began to file into the classroom. Professor McGonagall observed as Hermione was the first to enter the room. The girl headed straight to a seat in the first row, followed immediately by her best friends Ron and Harry. The teacher unobtrusively threw a concerned look at the smallest of the trio, seeing that Harry's eyes were indeed red as if he had cried the whole night. Watching him over the class, she noticed that the boy was not his usual self that day.

'Maybe he really has love problems,' Minerva mused. 'But his affair with Miss Chang is long over, and I didn't know that he already had a new one. I always imagined that he would get together with Ms. Weasley, seeing how fond of him she seems to be.'

"Excuse me, Professor, but could you please explain when and under which circumstances this spell was invented?"

Hermione's question pulled the teacher out of her reverie. Professor McGonagall quickly gave the girl the awaited answer, before she went back to her musings about Harry. 'Maybe he is ill,' she thought, watching the boy's white face. 'In that case, I should keep him after the end of the class and ask what is wrong. On the other hand, if he has problems with a girl, he wouldn't want to confide in me; on the contrary, he could be very angry if I asked him.'

At the end of the class, the teacher had yet to come to a decision. 'I'll just ask Ms. Granger if she knows something and if not I'm going to wait until tomorrow. If he still looks like this tomorrow, I'll ask him straight away,' she decided and called Hermione over when she dismissed the students.

"Miss Granger," she gently addressed her student, "do you have an idea what is wrong with Mr. Potter?"

Hermione sighed. "No Professor, I don't know what's wrong. I asked him yesterday evening if he was all right, and I asked him again this morning, but he keeps saying that he's fine in spite of looking outright ill."

"So you don't think he cried about something but he is ill," McGonagall asked, giving the girl a piercing look.

"I'm not sure," Hermione admitted. "I know that he's still grieving about the loss of Sirius, but at least I didn't see him cry. I will try to find something out tonight, and if I get to know anything, I'll contact you, Professor."

"That would be good. Thank you, Miss Granger," the teacher replied gratefully. "I'm going to wait until tomorrow morning then, before I'll ask him what is wrong. You may leave. What is your next class?"

"We don't have any more classes today," Hermione replied. "Thank you Professor, I mean... for worrying about Harry. I believe that he really needs it. He has nobody, except for Ron and me of course, who helps him or worries about him."

"His aunt must be concerned about him too, mustn't she?" Minerva asked, surprised at the revelation, her mouth stretched to a thin line.

"No Professor, his relatives don't care about him at all. As far as I know, they don't like him because they hate magic, and they don't even feed him properly. Did you notice how much skinnier he is now than at the end of the last school year?" With that Hermione quickly left the room and headed back to Gryffindor to search for Harry and Ron, leaving a very thoughtful Head of House behind.


Harry and Ron were sitting in the Gryffindor common room doing their homework. As usual, Harry was rubbing his eyes every few minutes; however, he felt extremely uncomfortable. 'I just hope nobody notices that my eyes are strange, especially not the white thing that's coming out of them,' he mused, worriedly rubbing his eyes again and again. 'Maybe I should go and ask Madam Pomfrey about it,' he considered, only to dismiss the thought quickly when he remembered, 'it could be a Muggle disease, which she hasn't even heard about.' Noticing that Hermione entered the room, Harry quickly buried his eyes along with his nose in his book, pretending to be concentrated on his homework.

"Harry, I know that I already asked you, but are you really feeling all right?" Hermione asked once more, noticing that Harry was rubbing his forehead as if he had a headache.

"Yes, I'm fine; I just have a bit of a headache," Harry replied impatiently, pretending to continue his work, unaware of the concerned looks his friends gave him. However, during the evening his headache became so bad that he excused himself and went to bed extremely early.

When Harry woke up in the morning, he felt absolutely horrible. His eyes seemed to be glued together, so that he couldn't easily open them; his head felt as if someone had hit him with a huge book, and he was feeling hot and cold at the same time.

Hearing Ron's voice trying to wake him up for breakfast, Harry could only groan. "I don't want breakfast. Can you wake me up once more in time for classes, please?"

"All right, mate; we'll wake you," Ron promised and left the room.

A short time later, Harry woke up to a cool hand on his forehead, and his Head of House's voice penetrated his ear. "Good morning Mr. Potter. What's wrong with you? Can you open your eyes for me?"

Harry sighed and painfully cracked his eyes open, mumbling, "Good morning Professor. I'm sorry, I'm getting up now."

"No, I don't think you will," Professor McGonagall replied firmly. "You're feverish, and I want Madam Pomfrey to check on you. Stay put; I'll be back in a minute."

Feeling too ill to care what was happening, Harry closed his eyes and waited for the things to come, tiredly wiping his eyes. A few minutes later, he heard Madam Pomfrey enter the room together with Professor McGonagall.

"Good morning Mr. Potter," the Healer said, before she began to wave her wand at him.

"Good morning, Madam Pomfrey," Harry replied, glancing at his Head of House, who was watching Madam Pomfrey's every move with a concerned expression on her face.

After a few minutes, the Mediwitch unobtrusively threw a silencing spell over her colleague and herself and said gravely, "I'm sorry, Minerva, but I'm afraid that Harry cannot remain at Hogwarts. He has to return to the Muggle world."


I am not a native speaker of English. So please excuse my mistakes – or correct them.

All recognizable characters belong to Mrs. Rowling, and I am not earning anything by writing this story.