Condition

Even this one threw me for a loop. To be uploaded to my fanfiction momentarily. I've had this idea for a bit and it's a bunch of what if's? in my head so here ya go.

Waking up to find himself within the confines of a Muggle hospital room certainly wasn't on Harry's to-do list. Various get well balloons and cards were stood up on the bedside table next to him as the Boy-Who-Lived sat up and fumbled to put his glasses on. Letting his eyes adjust to the bright light, he shook his head as he looked around.

“Where am I?” He muttered, mainly to himself.

“A Muggle hospital of course,” Dumbledore said, entering the room and smiling at him. “Good to see you're awake.” Harry took in Dumbledore's garish wizard style of dress before raising an eyebrow. Surely Dumbledore wouldn't allow Muggles-

“Yes, they see what they want to see,” Dumbledore said, sitting down at Harry's bedside. “To them, I'm just any average person coming to visit a relative in the hospital. Now, my boy, what do you remember?”

Harry drew his eyebrows together, struggling to bring everything to the front of his mind. “I think we were...the Tournament?” Harry asked, looking over at his mentor for confirmation. “Voldemort was there, and he...he's fully back. Killed Cedric and everything!”

Dumbledore sat there silently, looking behind him at the disillusioned Petunia Dursley and Hermione Granger while Harry was distracted in recounting his story. “He killed him right in front of me,” Harry murmured lowly, rubbing at his scar.

The elderly man reached over and patted Harry's hand for comfort. Harry looked up to smile at Dumbledore before yawning and slumping back into the pillows. “I'm sorry, sir,” Harry apologized. “I just can't seem to keep my eyes open for anything.”

“I understand, Harry. You've gone through a really tough time. I'll be here later when you wake up.” Dumbledore said, rising and leaving Harry's room. Hermione and Petunia followed after him, and Dumbledore made it so they were visible again.

“Well Miss Granger?” He asked, reaching into his pocket and pulling out a lemon drop. “What did the others have to say about the trophy?”

Hermione was silent for a few moments. She didn't really want to believe it, but... “It wasn't a portkey,” she finally said, shaking her head. “Professor Moody thinks that Harry's magic snapped and transported him to your general area since you are his most trusted.”

“And the boy, Cedric?”

“While Harry was dealing with his own demon, Madam Pomfrey found evidence to suggest that Cedric was indeed killed by the killing curse. But Harry's own wand came up negative for the curse. He and Cedric were the last ones in there and in his mental state, perhaps Harry killed Cedric with wandless magic?” Hermione suggested.

“It is entirely possible, but Harry will have to be subjected by some of these Muggle tests...are you certain you wish to go through with this?” Dumbledore asked, looking over at Petunia.

Mrs. Dursley froze for a few moments. Did she want to put her nephew through this? She knew she wasn't the kindest role model or guardian, especially when it came to her hate of anything magical. But she loved her sister dearly, and she didn't want her nephew to be sick all the time. She found herself nodding her head slowly. “Yes. Is there perhaps a Muggle doctor you know who also knows of the Wizarding world? It might make it easier.”

“Actually, yes,” Dumbledore said, nodding with a smile. “His name is Remy, and he is actually a Squib. So he was born into a magic family, but he cannot use it himself. He decided to go into Muggle medicine, to help out others. And sometimes if he feels they deserve it, he adds a little magical remedies. But magical remedies cannot cure everything.”

“I understand. Just...find out what's wrong with him.” Petunia said, wrapping her arms around herself.

“Miss Granger, if you would?” Hermione nodded to Dumbledore and started steering Harry's aunt to the waiting room. They would just have to wait for Remy to come and call. Then they could see what sort of horrors Voldemort was putting through the boy now.

–

When Harry woke up the second time, his eyes focused in on an unknown person sitting at his bedside. This person was a blur blob until Harry had righted the glasses on his face. “Who are you?”

“My name is Remy Howards. And how are you doing today, Mister Potter?” The man asked with a smile.

“Okay,” Harry said cautiously, looking around for Dumbledore.

“Albus isn't here at the moment,” Remy commented, scanning Harry's face. “It's just you and me. I'm a Squib and a doctor, so don't worry. Anything you say to be will be confidential until I can pull together a report.”

“So you were born into a magical family, but you couldn't use it?” Harry asked for clarification. “So you decided to become a doctor to help people?”

“That is correct. And sometimes, I like to slip in a little magical help to my patients.” Remy said winking. “Especially if they deserve it. Most don't, but some do. I always keep my ears open.”

“So what are you here for?”

“I am here to get your story,” Remy said, gesturing to his clipboard. “If you would, please share with me your childhood and all your years at Hogwarts so far.”

Harry enjoyed telling Remy all that he remembered. Like somehow materializing on top of his school when his teacher yelled at him or when he let that snake go right before he got all those letters to Hogwarts. He fondly remembered all the letters that were coming out of the fireplace. He also recanted all his years first through fourth to Remy who nodded along and made some notes on his clipboard.

When he was finally done with Harry, Remy stood up. “Thank you for sharing everything with me, Harry. I'll be by later to see how you're doing.” Giving the boy one last smile, he left the room with a worried look in his eyes.

“Well?” Dumbledore asked, approaching Remy as the man walked away from Harry's room.

“Evening Headmaster,” Remy said, quirking his lips at his little joke since he had never had this man as an adult figure in his life. “Tell me something sir, how many friends does Mister Potter have?”

“A number of Gryffindor students, and some in other houses too I suppose,” Dumbledore said. “He used to have one other, who unfortunately was killed by the basilisk in second year.”

“And the name?”

“Ron Weasley.”

Remy furrowed his brow. “Sir, Mister Potter seems to think that Ron is still alive. Says that they even fought over the fact that Harry had not put his name in the goblet, and Hermione had been a messenger between them.”

“Sorry I didn't tell you about that sir,” Hermione said, walking over to Albus and Remy. “I saw Harry out by the lake, and I went up to him to see how he was doing. He started yelling at me that 'I could just tell Ron' all these sorts of things. I thought he was just stressed over the tournament.”

Remy sighed, scratching his eyebrow in defeat. “I'm afraid, sir, that all the things that you have certainly believed are false when it comes to Harry Potter. Did he tell you Voldemort was coming back?”

“Why yes,” Dumbledore said, a bit surprised. “I just thought the boy was having nightmares. Powerful and ancient magic rebounded the curse on Voldemort that night, and while Harry is known as the Boy-Who-Lived, there is no chance that he will ever come back. He's dead.”

“Mister Potter seems to think otherwise,” Remy replied, uneasily.

“You know what's wrong.” Hermione looked up at Remy, knowledge sparkling in her eyes. So did she.

–

When Harry opened his eyes for a third time, he realized that he had fallen asleep with his glasses on. And there was someone sitting on his bed.

“Ron!” Harry exclaimed with a smile, reaching out and hitting the boy's shoulder with a fist.

“Bloody hell, Harry. You certainly got yourself into it on this one.” Ron said with a laugh as he reached over to punch the boy back. “Why in heavens are we in a Muggle hospital?”

“I'm not sure. Dumbledore's idea I guess.” Harry said, rubbing at his scar.

“Does it hurt again?” Ron asked quietly.

“No it's just...I don't know. I'm waiting for it to though. I can never predict what Voldemort is going to do.” Harry admitted, lowering his hand and sighing.

“One day, you'll be able to defeat him,” Ron said, moving so he was sitting in one of the chairs at Harry's bedside. “And then you'll be known as the Savior to the Wizarding World!”

“I'm not sure I want that kind of fame,” Harry said, shaking his head. “I mean, I already killed him a couple of times already and I survived when I wasn't supposed to as a baby. I have enough publicity as it is.”

Ron shrugged and smiled at his friend. “If you say so. Don't they have a good board of wizard's chess or some snap in here?”

Harry smiled and shook his head. “Muggles, Ron. Remember?”

“Yeah yeah,” Ron groused, sulking in the chair.

The conversation continued on, but Dumbledore and Remy paid no mind to it as they listened to Harry's one side conversation within the room. “This is very serious,” Dumbledore said gravely.

“You're telling me,” Remy said, pinching the bridge of his nose. “This is going to rock the Wizarding world for good. But I have to at least ask something.” Remy gave Dumbledore a look and made his way to the waiting room.

Petunia was sitting there with Hermione still, murmuring about how she should have taken more care of the boy when he was younger. “Mrs. Dursley, I am Dr. Remy. I would like you to remember something alright? Did anyone in your family have Schizophrenia?”

“My father did,” Petunia said, wiping her eyes with a handkerchief. “But you don't think...Harry? But he's much too young!”

“I have a theory,” Remy said sighing to himself. “If you both will please follow me.”

Remy led the whole group to Harry's room and opened the door more fully. “How are you doing, Mister Potter? I told you I'd come back to check on you.” Remy said, walking over to the end of the boy's bed with a smile.

“I'm doing fine, Dr. Remy,” Harry said grinning back at him.

“Will you tell me how many people are in this room excluding yourself?”

“Five,” Harry answered automatically. “You, Hermione, Aunt Petunia, Professor Dumbledore, and Ron.” The whole room was silent for a few moments as the four took in his mental state.

“Harry,” Remy started uneasily. “Ron's dead. He's been dead since your second year.”

“But he's right there,” Harry said, pointing to the empty chair. “And he doesn't appreciate being called dead. He's calling you a downright bloody wanker.”

“Have you heard of something called Schizophrenia, Harry?” Remy asked, trying a new approach.

“Is it some Muggle disease?”

“Precisely. It's genetic, and not much is known about it. What we do know, however, is that it can develop in young adults and can cause delusions and hallucinations. You talking to Ron right now is a hallucination because he's been dead for two years Harry. And you've had Schizophrenia for thirteen.”

“How is that possible?” Hermione demanded angrily. “Young adults and the elderly are all that I've heard when it comes to possible outbreaks of Schizophrenia. We're not even really young adults yet!”

“I assume it's the night that curse rebounded off Harry,” Remy said, gesturing to the boy's scar. “It messed with something in his mind. Started this outbreak of Schizophrenia if you will. Dumbledore, was Harry basically babbling to you when you found him first year?”

Dumbledore nodded. “We had found him in one of the odd dungeons, unconscious. Taking him back to the hospital wing, Pomfrey declared him fine, and we were through with it. Though he was talking to me about our Defense Professor Quirrel. Said he had had to kill him. Well boys and their imaginations...”

“According to Harry,” Remy said, looking at his notes. “He disintegrated Quirrel because of his mother's love magic, and Voldemort was on the back of his head looking for the Resurrection stone.”

“Quirrel actually left suddenly two weeks before we found Harry,” Dumbledore said, nodding. “He had to return to Egypt because his mother was terribly sick. Why do you think he wore that turban after all? A fashion choice?”

“Now Harry says he found the Chamber of Secrets and slew the basilisk inside, claiming that a diary that preserved Voldemort's memory was taking over Ginny Weasley.”

“We actually found Harry unconscious once more before the hole to the Chamber, and Ginny was never taken down there. We assume Ron jumped down to try and get the snake. We found his dead body down there, and we also assume that he looked the basilisk dead in the eye.”

“Rubbish!” Ron snapped. “I'm right here!”

Harry looked around at the others, wondering when they were going to acknowledge Ron. “Oh come on guys, he's right here. He hates being ignored you know, even when it's a joke.” The Boy-Who-Lived said, exasperated.

“Third year sir?” Remy asked, looking over at Dumbledore.

“My fault. I let the boy keep the delusion that his godfather was not the one to betray his parents. Sirius broke out to find Harry and kill him for the Dark Lord, but I tweaked his memory a bit to make it seem like Sirius was out trying to protect him.”

“Miss Granger did you ride on Buckbeak?”

“No sir. He was executed before Harry or I could do anything.” Hermione said lowly.

“And did either of you know that Remus Lupin was a werewolf?”

“I figured, but we didn't actually see him,” Hermione admitted. “Snape taught us about them in Professor Lupin's class. So I figured it out quite easily.”

“No we saw him change Hermione,” Harry urged, shaking his head. “And then when we used your time turner, we saved our own skins!”

“Fourth year, Headmaster?” Remy asked.

“The trophy was tested. It was never a portkey. Miss Granger said that Alastor suggested that Harry's magic transported him near my own since he trusts me the most. We assume wandless magic that was used by Harry killed Cedric because no wand was used.”

“No Voldemort killed Cedric!” Harry exclaimed, shaking his head.

“Harry, Voldemort is dead, and he is never coming back.” Remy said gently. “What you are experiencing is a mental condition called Schizophrenia like I told you earlier. The effects can be pushed back with medication, but you will always live with his affliction.”

“So how am I supposed to know what's real and what's not?” Harry asked angrily, waving his hand around. “How do I know all of you are real?”

Remy smiled sadly. “That's for you to find out, Mister Potter.”

And then Harry opened his eyes.

Wow... That's amazing. I almost cried at one point there.

Harry Potter: You mean if he knows about it then... he'll be able to read my mind?
Severus Snape: Read it... Control it... Unhinge it. In the past it was often the Dark Lord's pleasure to invade the minds of his victims, creating visions designed to torture them into madness. Only after extracting the last exquisite ounce of agony, only when he had them litterly begging for death would he finally... kill them.

Maybe this is just what Voldemort wants him to think! Tut tut tut... to be a tool of the Dark Lord...

Alfie: So many paths this story could take. That's up for the readers to decide of course! That's why it's a one-shot.

KC: o: Thank you! At which point did you feel like crying? Also, is it wrong that I was smiling while typing this because of the loops it threw me into?

That is so what a death eater would say

But this is completely awesome. I love the books but I hate the character, so I loved reading something awful happen to him, whatever that something awful turns out to be lol. It was well written too, which is always a bonus

Is it strange that as I was reading it, all I could think about Remy was "Ha, I bet the squib is loving being important" lol... XD

Shhh ya might blow my cover...

x3 Thank ya kindly. I do love Harry, but sometimes he just makes me mad. This is my payback. Well Remy is always important in the Muggle world! But something tells me he was a bit more pleased at being needed by the magical folk. Sort of like a 'So who needs the Squib now?' kind of ideal.

I felt like crying as soon as I realised Ron was dead and all of it was some insane part of Harrys head.

Ron really inserted himself in there as my fingers flew across my keyboard. After watching House and seeing Spencer's mother on Criminal Minds, I realized that perhaps Harry needed more stable proof of his disease. Thus, dead Ron was born. After all, if he talks to you, and he walks with you, he shouldn't be dead right?

Unless he was just a part of Harry's mind that convinced him that Ron was still happily living and breathing. After all, it made sense to Harry. Something like a random fire burning on desks or chairs wouldn't, and people would have noticed a problem with him much sooner.

Woah, intense and very cool. I like how I was confused in the beginning but piecing it together before he said it. It's a nice twist. Awesome job Nat.