Chapter One
This was, perhaps, one of the most miserable and forlorn of gatherings I had ever attended. Albus Dumbledore's eyes lacked their customary twinkle. Minerva McGonagall's lips were pursed and her eyes crinkled with pain while Ron Weasley looked on, horrified. Harry Potter looked ready to cry and was twitching as if he wished to bolt from his chair. Whether he wanted to bolt towards Miss. Granger or to the door, I wasn't sure.
Miss. Granger herself kept opening and closing her mouth like a beached fish. Her eyes, sunken and dark from lack of sleep were shocked, confused and terrified all at once. The only person with a comfortable and pleasant looking face was Miss. Hermione Granger's attending Healer, Renna Watson. But I suspected that the look had become permanent after using it for so long to calm down her patients. I wondered if the Healer could actually frown if she tried.
"Hermione," the Healer prompted. "Can you tell me who these people are?"
Even though we were all situated in a circle all our eyes were only for the young girl. It was like my head was locked in place and my vision was tunnelling in on the haggard infant. The bushy haired know-it-all gulped eyes wide and crazy. I had often commented on how stuck up the girl could be when it came to smarts, but even I felt regret for the loss of such a fine mind.
"I – It's... not p-possible."
"Come now Hermione," chided the Healer. "You're a logical girl. These people have to be alive to be sitting right in front of you," her voice was firm, strong in her faith that everything she said was true, but at the same time it had the tone of a caring mother. She sounded like the kind of person perfectly suited to her job.
"Let's start with this person here," she pointed at me. "What's his name?"
"Professor Severus Snape," Miss. Granger answered without hesitation. The entire room seemed to let out a breath of relief at the correct answer.
Out of all the people in this room it seemed silly that I was included as well. Albus was here because he was the Headmaster, Minerva because she was the golden trio's Head of House and the Weasley and Potter brat were here because that was the entire point of our meeting in Hogwarts' Hospital Wing. The only reason I was here was because Poppy was at the Healer conference in Sweden. Other than her I had the best understanding of where each potion was kept in the blasted infirmary and would be able to act the fastest if things got out for hand, like a panic attack, for instance.
"Good, Hermione, very good," Healer Watson praised, "And who's this?"
"Professor Minerva McGonagall."
"And this man?"
"Headmaster Albus Dumbledore."
"And this boy?"
Granger was not so quick to answer that time. Her hands began to shake and her eyes, dilating, grew impossibly wider. I briefly noted that they never blinked.
"Th - that's Ron, b – but that c – can't be right. I –I mean. I –I – I saw it. I – I – I was th – there. R –Ron wouldn't wake up!"
The girl started to scratch and pull at her hair as if she could dig the answers out.
"No Hermione. No!" Weasley panicked. "I'm fine see! I'm fine!" Minerva, thankfully, put a hand on Weasley's shoulder to calm him.
With a gentle hand the Healer took hold of Granger's own shaking claws and brought them back down. She didn't attempt to raise them again.
"Hermione, try to remember when we talked about this. I explained that Ron had been injured and had fallen unconscious. Remember when I took you to St Mungo's and we talked to patients that had been hit on the head too? They explained how they woke up. Try to remember that, Hermione." Granger still looked horrified, but she nodded her head all the same.
"Now then," continued the Healer, unperturbed. I watched from the corner of my eye as Minerva's hand twitched. She wanted to put a stop to this before Miss. Granger's therapy went further, wanted to foolishly rescue her past student from the torment. Positively Gryffindor. Thankfully, Minerva restrained herself with nothing but a grimace to show her disapproval.
"Who is this boy in front of you here?"
With what looked like physical pain the girl twisted herself around to Potter. Her eyes almost popped from their sockets as she began screaming. Granger leapt from her seat before the healer could catch her and grabbed the front of Potter's robes.
"NO HARRY DON'T GO. DON'T GO! HE'LL KILL YOU! THE FLAMES HARRY! THEY'LL BURN YOU! DON'T GO! I'M SORRY, I'M SORRY, I'M sorry, I'm SORRY, I'M SORRY, I'm SORRY, I'M SORRY...
I'd pushed a vile of calming draught into the healer's hands before anyone had time to jump. With a wave of her wand, Healer Watson had locked Granger's jaw mid scream and poured the contents down her throat. Granger's eyes were still flicking back and forth frantically, like a caged animal as her throat was rubbed and coaxed into swallowing.
The healer began to talk calmly to the girl but I turned my interest towards the two barely twelve year old boys. Weasley was stuck, statue like, between mid stand and sit shaking from head to toe. Potter was trembling, clutching his arms close to himself as he tried to hide it.
This was helping nobody at all.
It wasn't long before the healer consented defeat and helped floo Granger to St Kentigern's, the English wizarding mind healing hospital that dealt with the crazies who hadn't ended up that way due to spell damage or magical interference such as the Longbottoms had with the cruciatus.
However, the healer was adamant that she get to talk to the two fools Potter and Weasley who had caused this whole mess. Though she didn't put it like that.
The two shaken boys watched her warily as the healer smiled briefly back at them.
"I'm truly sorry that you had to see that," what do you know, the woman can frown, "but I do feel that meeting you both will have helped Hermione's recovery."
They both nodded.
"I wanted to spend this time to answer any questions you have and to reassure you that I truly do believe Hermione will recover in time. The entire incident with the Philosopher's Stone was a grave and stressing one for Hermione, but she is a bright and logical girl who, if given time and careful treatment, will gradually get better and better. We just have to be happy with the little steps."
The boys nodded again.
"I wanted to know if Miss. Granger seemed comfortable in the hospital," piped up Minerva.
The healer smiled. "Hermione has settled in nicely and doesn't seem to mind the hospital at all, something very understandable considering the state of the place. I don't think I've ever seen a better equipped hospital except for one in Australia. Now, that was a sight!" exclaimed the healer.
She turned back to the boys then. "Do you have any questions you'd like to ask?"
Potter straightened up and questioned, "Does she have her own room?" What a completely irrelevant question!
"She does. Her parents have even decorated it."
"She's really going to get all better then?" jumped in Weasley.
The healer turned a passive face towards him.
"Most patients never fully recover Ronald," she explained carefully. "it's almost impossible to go back to the way things were and pretend nothing happened, but I have the upmost faith that one day soon Hermione will recover well enough that she can come back to school again and live happily."
"DON'T lie to him like that," I heard a growl. It was Potter, his eyes were blazing with more life then I had seen in them since last year's Voldemort fiasco.
"Potter," I warned. He didn't take heed. Typical.
"Hermione's not going to get better. It doesn't work like that. Even if you delude yourself with recovery stories it's not going to happen and you know it. You haven't seen any improvement in Hermione since the day she was admitted have you!" he accused. The healer said nothing and sat calmly gazing back at him. "Hermione's gone," Potter continued, "we've lost her and she's not coming back!" he screamed, leaping from his seat.
The healer's face remained calm. "You don't believe that Hermione's going to get better?"
"NO!"
"Harry," this time it was the Headmaster who tried to stop him, but the healer put up a hand indicating that she didn't want to be interrupted.
"Why don't you think she'll get better Harry?"
"Because!" Potter yelled. "It can't work like that. I'm cursed! She's cursed! She can't come back! Not ever!" The boy stopped himself there, panting heavily, the air washing out of his lungs leaving him panting demonically.
"You think you're cursed Harry? What kind of curse would that be?"
But the boy had turned his face away. He was still breathing hard, chest rising and falling in rapid succession.
"Harry. Who cursed you?"
I hadn't actually anticipated and answer. 'Cursed' was probably metaphorical anyways, but I knew in the back of my head I was coming up with my own answer. Voldemort. I half expected Potter to reach for his scar, the boy was terrible at hiding anything.
"That man," Potter spat before bolting out the door in all his dramatic glory.
Healer Watson turned to the Headmaster. "I'd like you to keep an eye on him."