Prologue
Arthur and Mollie Weasley stood in the hall, silent tears coursing down their faces. Arthur put a shaking arm around his wife and pulled her towards him. Taking a handkerchief out of his robe, he gently wiped his wife's face off. He scrubbed the dirt and blood off and looked deeply into her eyes. Wrapping his arms tightly around her, he kissed her on the forehead.
And together they waited.
In the room next to them a half dozen of St. Mungo's medi-witches rushed about, applying healing charms and powdered doxy wings. A magically amplified heartbeat filled the room and gave small hope to the medi-witches, but even as they worked they could hear the beats getting softer and farther apart. All at once, a shrieking alarm went off and all movement stopped.
"Pasarse," a grave medi-witch standing at the head of the bed whispered hoarsely causing the alarm to quit screeching. Sighing, she pulled the sheets over the brilliant red head. Closing her eyes for a second, she steeled herself. Dammit, that's the third one in an hour we've lost. Nothing more could be done though.
"Okay, good try team. Further assignments are as follows. Emendis and Asistan- Room 1A; Optim- 3B; the rest to 2E … Good luck. It's going to be a long night." A very long night, she added to herself. The door opened and a stream of tired and disheveled medi-witches streamed out, parting in different directions to their next assignment.
The grave witch stepped out last, closing the door behind her. A couple stood, watching her with fear in their eyes. Judging by the bright red hair, these were the victim's parents. Summoning the memory of the quick glance she had given the patient file, she stepped forward.
"Mr. and Mrs. Arthur Weasley?" she questioned quietly.
The women opened her mouth to confirm, but instead just nodded.
"I'm Healer Anya Gwo. I'm sorry to have to tell you this,"- and at this the women sucked in a deep breath- "but your son Ronald Weasley didn't make it. We did all we could, but He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named has a unique brand of magic that doesn't respond to healing. He lost consciousness about 5 minutes ago and soon after…" She stopped not wanting to rub salt in the wound. Her eyes glistened dangerously as she watched the couple fall to the ground, sobbing. "I'm so sorry," She whispered softly so that no one could hear her as she turned away and walked to her office.
A quick spell later, the distracting emotions floated in a Penseive and Senior Healer Anya was once again ready to put on a brave face. She should really join Healers Emendis and Asistan in room 1A. The patient in that room was a torture victim that was supposed to be very… challenging. Walking quietly but confidently down the stairs to the first floor, she glanced at the nametag: 'Severus Xenophin Snape'. Hmmm, familiar.
She took one glance at the mangled body lying on the blood-red sheets and almost threw up. The face had been systematically scarred- the right ear scored, the other cut off entirely. His hands were mangled, with only two or three digits left, respectively. The feet had been badly twisted and all but three toes were removed. It looked as though all of the bones in his body had been broken. The see-through image of his chest showed internal bleeding and what looked like shards of something in his heart and consequently, his blood stream.
Taking a steady breath and recalling her medical practice, she strode over to Healer Emendis and Asistan who were talking at the head of the bed while other medi-witches scurried around the room, desperately trying to prolong the life of this man.
"What's the plan?" She spoke briskly. Time was important.
"We can do no more," said Asistan. Anya shot a quick look at Emendis who looked very bitter.
"Why not? There looks to be at least three-dozen breaks that can be mended, internal bleeding needs to be stemmed-"
"- Healer Asistan is of the opinion that it is a lost cause," Emendis spat out the words.
Anya, usually a fountain of opinions, was utterly dumbfounded "Nobody is a lost cause," she said icily.
Asistan spoke quickly to recover his grace, "Of course not, Senior Healer Gwo, but there is 42 people in critical need of trained medi-wizards on this floor alone. Not to mention the fact that we are greatly underhanded right now since many went to help the Muggles caught in the crossfire. To do this man any justice we would need a full dozen nurses and even then his chances are not good at all. Perhaps the task force would be better spent in helping those who can be saved."
Anya felt herself swell with rage but just as quickly felt herself deflate. He's right. Damn the bastard. He's right.
"Very well," Anya forced herself to say. "Order everyone to different posts. Emendis, you will stay with Mr. Snape and do the very best you can." And in a very rare show of emotion, she gave him an awkward hug. "If anyone can do miracles, you can."
And with that, she was gone.
For the next sixteen hours, Emendis did his best. Resorting to Muggle means to stem the blood, he made good use of tourniquets and pressure points. He mended a grand total of 118 bones, and one by one magically pulled the largest of the shards of glass out of the mans bloodstream. At the end of those sixteen hours, Emendis sealed his torso closed once more, checked his vitals, used a small nutrition spell to feed the man, and fell asleep on the floor next to him.
It had been the night of the Final Battle.
