Ron Weasley really didn't want to go to the hospital, but it was a requirement from his school. All the fifth graders at his school had been given the task to volunteer at the hospital for a while. He had been at the school for the last year when his parents had decided he needed to have some Muggle education before he started at Hogwarts when he turned eleven. He secretly thought it was so that his father could learn about the Muggle education system, but said nothing of it. He really didn't mind it that much. It was interesting to see what the Muggles did to accomplish things because they didn't have magic.
Walking up the steps of the hospital, Ron saw three of the most unpleasant-looking people he had ever seen walking out of the establishment. The man was walrus-like, with a mustache like a broom. The woman was stick-thin and had large eyes that reminded him of pictures he'd seen of horses. The boy was around Ron's own age, and looked very like his father, except even larger if that was possible. The two adults were muttering to each other, and Ron heard a snippet of their conversation as he passed them.
"-want us to keep Potter there indefinitely." the man was saying. "Not likely! It's much too expensive. They think they can convince us otherwise, no sir!"
Ron dashed up the rest of the steps, trying to appear inconspicuous and made it unnoticed up to the doors. Potter, they had said. Surely it couldn't be...
Ron stared as he entered the place, trying hard to make it seem like he wasn't totally gobsmacked by everything he saw. There was no magic whatever in this place, and it still amazed him how people could manage without it.
Unlike at St. Mungo's, there was no magical buzz about the place. However, there was still a sense of activity that you could feel as you entered the place. Ron searched around and saw the receptionist's desk.
"Excuse me?" he said as he approached the woman. He had some idea that he would find the boy he'd overheard the unpleasant family talking about. If his family seemed to hate him, Ron guessed he might want someone to help pass the time. "I'm here to do some volunteer work with my school. I was looking to help in the long term ward if you could tell me where it is?"
The receptionist looked up from her computer. "That's wonderful, dear. You'll be wanting intensive care, then. Up to the third floor, and follow the signs down the hall. Someone up there can tell you if they need anything done. Elevators are there." She pointed to a set of metal doors with several buttons for controls.
"Er… thanks," he responded, turning and approaching the elevators. They had them at the Ministry, but they used magic. Ron had no idea how they could work without it but trusted they wouldn't crash.
Taking it all the way to the third floor, Ron exited among a crowd of people. Looking around, he saw the corridor the receptionist had indicated. He walked down it, scanning the rooms for any indication of the boy, Potter. If it was who he thought it was...
Finally, he saw the name on a plaque on one door. "Harry Potter." It was. It was Harry Potter! But why had he been sent to the hospital?
He slowly opened the door to see a pitiful sight. A boy around Ron's own age laid on a cot, appearing to be asleep. Something about it felt wrong, however.
A nurse entered the room, staring as she caught sight of Ron. "Young man, what are you doing in here? This is a private room. Only family is allowed to visit." Under her breath, she said, "Not that the poor boy hasn't much family to speak of."
"I'm his best friend," Ron lied. He didn't know why, but the boy intrigued him. He wanted to stay and help the boy as much as he could. He knew the stories about how he'd been sent to live with Muggles but had never expected to run into him while doing a school assignment. "I heard he was here. What's happened to him?"
"He's in a coma," the young nurse replied. "The reports say that he had a fall down some stairs, but I don't think I believe that for a minute. The family he lived with, they got him when his parents died, they said. They seem to hate him. My guess is that he was pushed or beaten into this coma. He's been here for two weeks now, and the family doesn't want to pay for the treatments. Tomorrow they're taking him off the support systems."
Ron wasn't sure exactly what that meant, but he knew it had to be pretty bad. From the sounds of it, machines were keeping Harry Potter alive, and when he was disconnected, he would die. Somehow, Ron couldn't allow that to happen. He didn't know why, but he felt that the boy would be important somehow. He didn't know why or how it would happen, but he knew that he couldn't allow the Muggles to let him die.
Coming back later in the evening, Ron covered himself in an invisibility cloak. His father had one that he let the kids use sometimes for fun. Ron had snuck out of his house and rode the family's broomstick here. He had to save Harry Potter, and he guessed that there would be far fewer people there at night.
Sneaking inside as a couple was leaving, Ron entered the establishment and hurried up the stairs to the third floor. He didn't want anyone to notice the elevator opening on its own.
Arriving at the third floor, he made his way quickly through the corridor to Harry's hospital room. There he lay, unmoving. His face seemed peaceful, but his forehead had crease lines, as if he'd been constantly worried for most of his life. Ron didn't want to know who would make a kid seem like that.
He took something out of his back pocket, hoping beyond hope that the spell he had learned would help him. He brandished Fred's wand, having snatched it earlier. He could have attempted to do the spell wandlessly but didn't want to take a chance on it backfiring more than he already was.
"Rennervate," Ron said. He had looked up the spell, reading that it would revive anyone from any kind of injury. He stared anxiously for a few moments and was just about to think of some other plan when he saw something that made him relax instantly. He hadn't realized he was so tense.
The boy's eyes opened slowly, and he looked around the room in confusion. He wasn't sure where he was, it seemed, and no wonder. Finally, his eyes landed on Ron. His eyebrows furrowed. "I… I know you. I was dreaming… and you were in my dreams. Why?" Then he said, "You don't look quite like I remember you, though."
Ron grinned. "Long story, and you look nothing like I thought you would, either. Even?"
"Even."