Author's Note: This is a repost of the first chapter. I know, I know, disappointment abounds, but there were just too many unforgivable mistakes.
Purely Medical Fascination, I Assure You
Chapter One
Case Study #125b
Name: Severus Snape
Sex: Male
Date of Birth: 9 January, 1960
Occupation: Potions Professor at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry
Residence: Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry; Spinner's End
Background: Charged with thirty counts of Murder, seventy-five counts of Willful Poisoning, eight counts of Manslaughter, two counts of Assault, one count of Treason, and one count of Conspiracy. Ex-Death Eater, exonerated on 18 July 1999 of all charges due to extenuating circumstances during the War. Awarded the Silver Arrow in Combat and Order of Merlin Second Class on 3 August 2000 by Albus Dumbledore. Arrested 4 August 2000 at 2 A.M. for Public Indecency, fined 100 Galleons.
Condition: Curse wound to cartilage surrounding kneecap. Frequent pains when walking. Patient uses cane on daily basis, stasis charm when necessary. Condition stabilized, no foreseeable cure.
Laura sighed as the thick manila envelope slipped from her fingers and fell to the floor. She had more than enough on her plate at the moment without having to deal with another patient and subsequent project. She had finally sent in her divorce papers to be legalized that morning and was not relishing the I-told-you-so speech from her parents. Charles Reed had been fifteen years her senior, with charmingly peppered black hair and a sturdy frame for his fifty-five years. Their marriage had lasted for three bitter years. Charles had refused to cope with Laura's long business trips and seminars and finally given her an ultimatum. He had walked out of their apartment after seeing the hesitation on Laura's face.
Combing her fingers through her frustratingly wiry hair, Laura closed her eyes and slumped down in the comfortable black leather sofa. Curling so that she could easily rest her cheek on the cool leather armrest, she drew her robe more tightly around her chilled torso and dozed.
--
Laura woke at the sounds of someone rustling in the kitchen and bolted straight up. Groaning at the loss of feeling in her arm, she rubbed her temples and reached for her glasses. Slipping them on, she squinted in the bright afternoon sun toward the kitchen. Her old sister, Taylor, was rummaging through the cabinets. "Geez, Laur. Haven't you gone shopping in the past two weeks?"
Laura grinned sheepishly. "I've been getting by on Ramen and Chinese take-out, mostly," she admitted. Taylor, shaking her head, peeked into the refrigerator and grabbed a white carton of chicken and broccoli. Sniffing the open container and deeming it edible, she flicked her wand absently at the cupboard and summoned two chipped plates. Casting a warming charm on the take-out, she levitated the hot plates over to the kitchen table.
Shuffling into the kitchen, Laura grabbed a pitcher of iced tea from the refrigerator and two plastic cups. With a grunt, she sat down at the table. Bowing her head, she said a quick grace and grabbed her fork. Shoveling the food into her mouth, she glanced over at Taylor, who, seeing Laura with her cheeks comically stuffed with broccoli, snorted into her tea. "Laura! You have the table manners of a troll."
"Excuse me, dahling," Laura replied in an overly drawling Southern accent. "How could I have been so rude?"
Taylor just shook her head in exasperation. Noticing the manila folder on the floor, Taylor pointed her chin at it. "Wha's 'at?" she managed to get around a mouth full of food.
Grinning, Laura turned. "Hypocrite. Oh, Lee's sent me a new case to go over. Interesting. Name's…what was it? Oh yeah, Severus Snape."
Taylor raised an eyebrow at this. "Severus? Sounds mysterious. What's he need you for?"
"Apparently, he received a curse wound to the cartilage in his knee that Minister Dumbledore is quite concerned with. It seems to be stabilized, but as of yet, there have been no suggestions that seem plausible for a remedy."
"I see," responded Taylor. "Why'd they contact you though? A screwy kneecap isn't that bad. Besides, who is this guy anyway?"
"He is a decorated war hero. Ex- Death Eater as well. Went rogue in the early eighties, from what I've heard. Worked as a double agent for almost twenty years."
Taylor whistled lowly. "Wow, Laur. Looks like you can't screw up on this one."
"Ha ha ha," Laura mock-laughed slowly. Deigning the last of her food, she scraped her chair back from the table. "I'm off to shower and then I need to catch a cab to the Keyport. Portkey leaves at six."
"I'll miss you Laur," Taylor began with a frown. " It won't be the same without your constant whining. Take care in England and don't get swept off your feet by any Englishmen unless you send a picture home to me." With this, Taylor swept her considerably shorter sister up in a bone-crunching hug, eyes sparkling with unshed tears.
"Of course, Tay. I'll write often and try to visit over the holidays. Take care of Mr. Snuggles for me." This had the intended effect, and Taylor scrunched her nose.
"Ugh, only because you're my sister. You know that I would never touch that dirty parakeet for any other reason."
Smiling, Laura shook her head and headed toward the bathroom as Taylor closed the front door behind her.
--
Feeling much cleaner and less like the living dead after a scalding shower, Laura wrapped herself in a horridly bright green towel and tiptoed to her room, trying not to drip on the carpet. Pulling out her good set of navy traveling robes and a sensible pair of navy pumps, she laid them on the bed and tiptoed back to the bathroom.
Brushing a tiny amount of grey eye shadow onto her eyelids, Laura despaired of her hair. The humid bathroom made it hair stick out every which way, intensifying its red color and kinks. Narrowing her muddy brown eyes, she dried her hair with a charm and pulled it back into a small bun at the nape of her neck. Slipping her glasses up her nose, she picked her way back to the bedroom, smoothing out the wrinkles and running a Muggle lint roller over the robes before dressing quickly. In her opinion, the roller was much more effective than a lint repellant charm.
Nervously running her hands over her robes, Laura looked around the room. Her small suitcase had been packed early and awaited shrinking. Her lamp was off and her bed was made. Good. Grabbing the case, she walked to the living room, scooping Professor Snape's file off of the floor. Shrinking her bag, she called a cab and said a silent goodbye to her empty apartment.
--
After waiting in a horrifically long line, during which she was poked and prodded by Wizarding Security, Laura was ready to nap again, not tackle international relations with the Minister of Magic of England. Gripping an old tin can, she headed for the Departure Zone on the third floor of the Keyport. All around her, witches and wizards rushed to and fro, too busy to notice a lone witch with frazzled red hair and thick lensed glasses. Laura smiled. She liked it that way.
Taking note of the time, Laura increased her pace. Her robes swished as she practically broke into a jog. Portkeying in any undesignated area resulted in a major fine, ever since an incident involving a Muggle dump truck, an especially angry Russian wizard, and three German shepards, and Laura did not have a Galleon to spare. Swinging her arms, she accidentally let go of the can. As it rolled across the well-waxed flooring, it came to rest against a pair of well-worn boots. Looking up slowly, her eyes followed the boots up to a khaki pair of trousers, obviously well loved. An ankle length olive robe covered the wizard's torso. Amber eyes sparkled in a lined but handsome face, strands of sandy hair brushing his forehead. The wizard smiled and bent to retrieve the can. Handing it to Laura, their fingers brushed and Laura's face flushed. Cursing her fair skin, she smiled tentatively at the wizard. He really was handsome. "Thank you."
"You're welcome," he replied, his voice smooth and oddly hypnotic.
"Damn!" Laura exclaimed, gripping her can tightly. "I don't want to be rude, but my Portkey is leaving n-"
And with that, she was gone.
--
Laura hated traveling by Portkey. She had severe motion sickness that made even a short drive in a car unpleasant. Arriving at the International Keyport in London, she fell to her knees, nauseous and dry-heaving. Great, Laura, she thought. What a first impression in a new country.
Looking around her, she saw busy witches and wizards hardly giving her a second glance. A general air of "I'm busy, you would do well not to disturb me" hung in the air. Taking a deep breath, Laura attempted to calm her stomach. As she did, a perky witch in impossibly cheerful blue robes whisked over, offering a perfectly manicured hand.
After helping the mortified Laura up from the floor, the witch said loudly, "Welcome to London! I hope that you enjoy your stay, whether it's for business or pleasure!"
Dubiously eyeing the tag naming the perky witch 'Candi', Laura smiled weakly. "Er, thanks."
"You're not the first to have Portkey-sickness," Candi said, patting Laura's arm sympathetically. " Do you need anything to drink, perhaps some Calming Drought? Some crackers to settle your stomach? It's all set up in the gift shop around the corner!"
"No thanks," Laura responded, hesitating. "I'll be fine in a few minutes, I'm sure." Rubbing her weak stomach one last time as Candi shrugged and walked towards a distraught looking family of five, Laura looked around for a hint of an exit. This place was worse than a Muggle airport.
Finally spotting a sign that promised an exit, Laura gathered herself mentally. Following the red line charmed onto the floor, she glanced around her. Families argued with each other about who held which bag. Several smaller children were curled up on hard plastic chairs, surrounded by pieces of luggage and harried looking parents. Business wizards sat on the uncomfortable looking plastic seats, clearly itching for their departure. Gift shops filled with expensively priced souvenirs were packed to the brim with bored tourists, clearly willing to spend the outrageous amount of thirteen Galleons for tiny teddy bears wearing miniature Quidditch robes.
Glancing back and forth, Laura did not pay particular attention to where she was walking, distracted by her still unsettled stomach. There were enough people in the Keyport that she was jostled a bit, but it was nothing too disconcerting. Craning her neck at a particularly repulsive display of Harry Potter action figures boasting the "low, low" price of fifteen Galleons, Laura did not notice a particularly pudgy boy standing in her path. Plowing into the boy, she stumbled.
The boy, at least eleven, began whining to his mother. "Muu-uuum! She knocked my crisps on the ground! I want more crisps!"
The exasperated mother glared at Laura. "I believe you owe my son another package of crisps," she said, her voice low.
"I'm sorry, ma'am. All I have is some American money and a few Sickles," Laura responded. She really did not need to deal with a spoiled brat and his self-righteous mother at the moment. Briskly walking away, Laura heard the pudgy boy's mother muttering under her breath and counted herself lucky that she had not been cursed.
With a sigh of relief, Laura reached the exit. Peering right and left into the night as she exited the building, she strode down the block trying desperately not to look like a tourist. Turning right at the corner, she struggled down the road, fighting through a sidewalk full of people on cell phones, walking dogs, and teenagers in search of night clubs. Spotting a magical poster lit by the neon shop fronts advertising a candy shop in Diagon Alley, Laura smiled. She was only a few blocks away from the entrance, a pub called The Leaky Cauldron.
Walking along, being jostled by the crowd, Laura ignored the odd looks that she received from the Muggles surrounding her. She hadn't thought to change out of her robes, and it was too late now. She ignored it and knew that they would think of her as "another bizarre foreigner."
Sighing and wrapping her robes tightly around her, she ducked her head. A brisk wind had picked up in the chilly evening air, causing Laura to shiver. Dratted wizarding robes and their lack of insulation. As Laura pushed through the mob of Sunday shoppers trudging wearily back to their hotel rooms and homes, she was pushed to the side by an especially package-laden woman with a no-nonsense expression. A large handbag replete with miniature yapping dog clipped Laura on the right shoulder and sent her flying off of the sidewalk.
Cars screeched all around her as Laura's hand gripping her wand tightly flew up. A bright pair of headlights grew larger as the Knight Bus was summoned. Laura's limp body was flung back as a crowd of onlookers gathered.