Chapter Two:
Taking in the scene before him he caught his breath. What had happened to her? Was that really her? Why was she here? Did she really just ask him for help? Snapping back out of his mind he saw her head slump. "Oh crap," he thought.
Looking around to ensure they were alone for sure, since he once thought he was alone today, he stepped to her. Crouching down he saw the barest of chest movements. She was alive, that was good!
He took in her form. He was right the first impression he took of her. She was, without a doubt, more scar and cut than she was Hermione. He looked down to her knee caps that seemed too large for the skinny legs that held them in. She was sitting in the smallest fetal position. All curve and "fat" had gone from her form. Her face, that was slumped back against the wall behind her proved to be bony and sunken in, despite the natural roundness of her face.
Not knowing any answer other than the one he came up with, he dubbed she definitely needed help. Taking in the severity of her multiple conditions, he knew he had to act quickly. Diagnosing her most obvious issues he concluded he had all the potions needed to assist her, but not with him. He had to take her to his house. He would much rather have taken her to the castle, but it was still midday.
He knew naught the reason why she was hiding, or why she chose him, but one thing was obvious. Someone had done this to her and she could not be found by them. Not knowing who this person was, he decided taking the chance of apparating them to the castle during the daylight hours was not a risk necessary, even if it was the beginning of summer term and no one would be around other than the oaf of a groundskeeper and his newlywed giantess who were expanding his tiny cottage to allow for a bigger and much needed bed, and the headmistress herself.
Not chancing to take any longer, he gathered her limp form into his arms, which was much easier than it should have been due to her apparent emaciation, and disapparated on the spot.
He had wards on his property protecting anyone from joining him through apparition, no matter who's magical make up it was. Keeping this in mind, and completely unwilling to change that fact, he pooped into a spot just outside of his mile-wide wards. Gently placing her on the grassy floor of the meadow he stepped over the invisible line of his protection spells.
Once he crossed he sent the required demands for his wards to allow the specific magical properties of Hermione's magical essence by holding the only personal possession he had of her, a piece of her hair. Once he felt his wards respond with the slightest of tingles, he quickly gathered up the barely breathing girl and crossed onto his property.
Not allowing the extra time it would have taken him to trek the mile distance to his home, he apparated directly in his bedroom. He chose this spot due to its largeness compared to the other sizes of the rooms of his house, as well as the short distance it would be to his potions supplies if he needed to grab them himself had his magic been occupied.
Placing her down on top of his bed spread he gently laid her head on his pillow and forced her much cramped body to lay flat. When he did this, he was finally able to see the great extent of Mrs. Granger's condition.
He had assumed she was emaciated, but looking at her now, he was mystified as to how she was even alive. She had no essence to her. She looked dangerously close to the pictures he had seen of the muggle Holocaust in his younger years of schooling prior to his Hogwarts letter. Looking around her apparent skinniness, he took in the gravity of her wounds. She had major gashes on almost every part of her body that was showing. Judging by the amount of bruises, cuts, and scars across her body, he was positive they continued under the pathetic amount of rags she wore as "clothing."
Honestly, he had seen house elves wear more than what she had covering her tall figure. The rags he was sure once were the color white were now a disgusting color of brown, green, and black. He was sure trolls and giants had cleaner habits than what she was obviously allotted.
Taking his eyes off her "clothing" and back to her face he saw that she was still heavily unconscious. She was nowhere close to coming to, he knew for certainty. Taking no more time wasted, he began his work.
Once being right hand man to the greatest wizard of all time, Professor Dumbledore, he had utilized many diagnostic spells and healer quality motions. Not even taking the time to diagnose her at this moment, he quickly went to work on healing what he could plainly see.
He closed the open gashes with simple flicks and swishes of his wand. Taking in her emaciated state and lack of color, he accioed a blood replenishing potion and poured it down the limp girl's throat. He also gave her the wizard equivalent of antibiotic potion for the infections he was sure she carried due to the amount of cuts and slashes on her body.
After a few more spells and potions, including a very strong skele-grow for good measure, he took a breath. Stepping back to wipe the sweat that had appeared on his forehead. He could not remember how long it had been since he had to battle time to save someone.
Allowing his mind to wander down his own path of reflection, he wandered into his kitchen. Still feeling the heat from the strenuous acts he just finished, he took off his wizarding cloak and robes. Continuing to cool his body by rolling up his long sleeved, black, button up to just past his elbows. He always wore his muggle clothes underneath his wizarding outfits. He learned this lesson back in Mrs. Granger's first year no thanks to a grouchy three headed dog with a knack for speed. He decided then it would always be smart to wear a second layer of clothing, with the hopes of salvaging more skin than that day.
Thinking of the girl in his bed he turned and looked directly into his bedroom, laying eyes on the unconscious girl. The way his house was laid out, he had no problem keeping an eye on the woman from any spot, other than the bathroom and maybe his library. Suddenly, something didn't look right.
Walking with intent, yet not quite speed, he crossed the floor into his bedroom easily. Something had changed, and quickly. Cursing at himself for not thinking of doing the diagnostics prior to walking away, he quickly ran some spells over her almost lifeless body. Taking in her state, he did a pain indicator spell first. She had her head pulled back, digging into his pillow, allowing her chin to jot up straight. Her body was board like and completely stiff. Thanks to the bright red indicator at the tip of his wand, he knew what his eyes saw to be truth, Mrs. Granger was in severe pain.
Quickly producing a numbing potion, he attempted to force her mouth open. Unable to unlock her jaw, he huffed and almost threw the bottle onto his bedside table. Giving up and doing a quick, yet less effective numbing spell he got the reaction he wanted. Her body relaxed a bit, allowing her head to settle naturally, and he was able to get her mouth open enough to pour the initially intended potion down her throat.
She relaxed fully after that one, looking almost peaceful. He was confused though. What had caused her to change so quickly? He had replenished her blood, healed her wounds to ensure there was no loss of blood, even given her antibiotics… what could be hurting her now?
Just then it hit him, shock. This was her mind's reaction to the quick changes in her body. Changes, though, he barely did anything. Thinking it through, he found a wound that was still healing itself. Knowing better than to expose himself to possible toxins, he took the tip of his wand and gently, but purposefully, pushed it through the hole in the wound.
Pulling out the smallest amount of blood, he examined it. Its color was oddly dark. Dark blood…Darkness in such an outer vein was not normal. Then he thought about it again, shock. Yes, her mind was clearly in shock, but what about her body? Calling himself a fool for allowing it to slip his mind he did a diagnostic spell hovering his wand just inches above her body. The color indication made him take a sharp breath and hold it.
Septic shock. Cursing himself again for being so foolish, he continued to hover his wand down her body. Her chest glowed a dangerous orange tone, while her stomach turned closer to red. Knowing that red was the highest possible, he was not expecting worse. The poor girl probably had infection in her stomach from whatever it was she had access to for food. Grazing his wand across her reproductive sections just to complete the diagnostic and what he saw made him step back.
Of all the years of horrid things, he had NEVER seen this. The glow was indeed red, but a dark purple red. The darkest shade he had ever seen. He never even knew it existed. Not only was the color enough to stop him in his tracks, but the strength of the glow made him squint his eyes and turn away. What had this girl been through?
It was obvious where majority of her septic was coming from. Putting it mildly, she wasn't suffering from septic shock. This poor girl WAS septic shock. You could have bottled her up and sold her as the damn thing. He could not wrap his mind around it.
Reminding himself of the importance of time, he jumped back to work and called three potions to his hand. Answering his silent demands immediately, the expert potions master quickly uncorked the mixtures and forced them down the throat of the poor girl. He also found himself tunneling through his memories looking for a spell that could assist the speed of their effectiveness.
Not wanting to mess up again, afraid of what else he would miss, he prepared himself for what he knew must be done. Closing his eyes and taking a deep breath, he vanished the poor excuse for clothing in one simple thought. Looking down, he saw more gashes that needed his immediate attention.
Her breasts were so badly attacked he could barely consider them round. Wounds were evident, as well as some minor deformities. Not wanting to dwell along the girl's private body he went to work quickly, ensuring not to stare or physically touch at all. She had been through enough. Even if she did not know what he did, he could not live with himself knowing he took more advantage of someone who clearly had no choice in many matters. Finishing up the healing, even allowing her the small gift of reshaping the minor, yet painful looking deformity that had obviously taken place due to a layering of scaring around her left side of her chest.
He then settled to gaze very quickly below her navel. The sight was, again, something he was not prepared for. Although there were less open gashes, her amount of scaring across this section of privacy was at least trifold the amount of the remainder of her body. Not wanting to look at the sight before him any longer, he took to placing three simple spells and moved on. He chose to enchant her skin with the ability to replenish itself slightly, an inflammatory spell allowing her swelling to go down, and an additional pain killer spell before looking away for good.
He glanced over the girl's naked body just once more to ensure her wounds had finished closing up well enough. Finishing with a final diagnostic spell, he levitated the limp body before him and summoned up a basic sleeping gown for the girl to be covered in. With some difficulty, since he did not wish to touch the girl at all, he carefully and painstakingly slowly dressed the girl, and gently laid her back down on the bed.
Allowing himself to touch her just once to lay her head back down on the pillow a bit more naturally, ensuring not to pull her hair he noticed one thing he neglected to do. Although he cleansed the insides of her body and healed the obvious wounds, he never actually took into account the amazing amounts of filth and blood on the girl's skin. He was reminded of this fact when he touched her hair to lay her head more easily. Quickly shooting off scourgify a dozen times, as well as an additional cleansing spell or two, he finished his initial care for the young witch.
With that being said, he flopped down into a chair he transfigured out of an empty bedside table, he tossed his head back. The sweat and heat catching up to him again, he just gave up. Giving into exhaustion, rather than the hunger pains, he allowed himself a quick nap. He had done a lot for this young girl. Someone he never thought he'd assist, in ways he never thought he'd need to.
Not wishing to dwell too much, he propped his feet up on the edge of the bed, careful not to disturb the very weak girl on the opposite side of his king size bed, he allowed sleep to pull him away.
