Author Note: Sorry for not updating for quite a long time, though chapters come irregular, due to school or not being in the mood for it. Anyways, I hope you'll like this chapter. I noticed that some might think of a 10 though now 11-years old healer is impossible and it quite is, but it's fanfic so I just used my fantasy. Though it's unrealistic, I made it more real through: 1. his parents are alive (explanation will be given later in the story) 2. he's a prodigy at healing (just a fact in this story) 3. He got many healing books, so that explains why he is so good. Harry isn't the best, but he is a prodigy and famous as the boy-who-lived so that's why people look at him as if he is one of the best. Wow, so much talk. Have fun reading it!
Chapter 2 Dramatical play
"Hello, sir. My name is Harry Potter, pleasure to meet you." He said formally, while walking to him with in his left hand the files and the other hand gesturing to his patient to shake it. The other did so. "Quinerus Qui-" Abruptly the other took his hand away as if it was burned. Harry frowned and asked if he was okay, wary of every little thing he would say.
The other only smiled everything was alright, guessing it was an overreaction. But Harry didn't think so, he hadn't worked for that long, but knew whether it was just an overreaction or an symptom of a disease or something else…
They both settled in their seats. Harry sat behind the small clean desk, while the other sat in front of it, looking rather nervous.
"M- my- apologies. Quirinus Quirrell, ni- ce to me- et- t you t- t- too." Harry nodded, but he didn't let go of what just happened. Instead he wrote it on his file papers secretly along with the fact that the man in front of him stammering like a crazy. He even considered writing he might be indeed insane, but he didn't. There could be other reasons to his stammering.
"So from what I read, you're bitten by a spider of a dark evil witch when you were in Albanian?" Quirrell nodded and Harry went on. "The symptoms point out it was quite a strong poison you got from the spider. It's not deadly, but it can cause permanent nasty damages, you have 10 hours to go before the damage will strike." Harry concluded, while Quirrell was quite surprised with the knowledge of the other.
"This was an emergency?" Harry muttered to himself, but Quirrell could hear.
"I'm a prof-f-es-s-sor of Hog- warts, I've to get t- to the castle tom-mo- orrow to start preparing the lessons, so it has to be solv- solv-ed quickly." Harry nodded understandingly and apologized for his rude question.
"What kind of subject do you give, professor?" This fact wasn't on the papers, but he was probably a new teacher, due to the files coming from two years ago. Harry made a mental note to tell the boss later that this should be updated.
"Defense again-s-st the d-d-ark arts." He answered, while Harry took the mirror in front of him. He excused himself for a moment and said to the mirror: Angelique Bubble, potion department. A pony-tailed witch watched him through the mirror. "Dear Harry, what can I help you with?"
"I need a potion against spider poison. That one with a bazoar and aconite. The copied file and exact treatment is already sent. Professor Quirrell will be at your department in about 10 minutes?"
"Understood. Sorry at the moment I'm busy so are all healers, it's like a genocide, so many patients came in. I'll do it in 15 minutes alright?" Harry nodded and she disappeared, but not before he saw a frog was thrown against her forehead.
"My apologies for taking so long, we're busy now as you've heard." Just at that moment a letter came through the open window together with an owl. It landed on Harry's desk and Harry knew immediately what it was, so did Quirrell.
"You're at-tend-d-ing Hog-warts this year?" He asked curiously. Harry nodded, confirming it while opening it and reading the letter. After he was finished he sighed and placed the letter on the table next to the original files.
"Is it-t not to your s-s-statisfaction?" Quirrell asked, raising a brow.
"Not really…" Harry answered honestly. "It's not Hogwarts I'm not happy with. Rather the going to Diagon Alley to get the supplies part, professor." He said nonchalantly, while putting his left hand under his chin to support his head.
"I see… Y-your life m-must b-be tough as t-the boy-who-lived." He emphasized the last words. Harry's eyes watched the professor with more interest now. He seemed to hesitate before replying: "Hmm… I've never heard someone speaking like you about my life. Well, except for my parents. Actually you're right." Harry felt no need to hide the fact. An air of silence hung around the room, though not for long.
"So…" Quirrell began, trying to break the silence. "D-do you k-k-now in what h-house you'll b-b-be s-sorted? Maybe any pref-f-erence?"
"I don't have any preference, though it would be better if I don't end up in Slytherin.", Harry smiled charismatically. "What house did you get sorted in professor, if I may ask?"
"S-s-slytherin." He answered, still stuttering like a crazy.
"The house of snakes, hmm… If I may ask a silly question, though nothing ventured nothing gained, were you in the same year as…" He waited to raise the tension. "Voldemort." That little one name had an awful impact on the poor man. He jumped of fear, knocking over the chair he was sitting in a second ago.
"Potter, refrain yourself from calling that name, please." He said hoarse, while the please sounded more like his hiss. That didn't escape Harry and neither did the angry strain he used saying the last world.
Harry frowned, though in his eyes there was an amusing twinkling mixed with a puzzled look. "Ah, professor. Congratulations, you healed already this quick."
"W-w-what d-do you m-mean?" he said as he calmed down, trying to pick up the chair he knocked over a few moments ago.
"Please refrain yourself from playing dumb. I already know your stuttering is fake." He said casually. There was a moment where it seemed as everything had slowed down. Quirrell was clearly doubting about what he should do and Harry wanted to counter that, but he knew the other man could be unpredictable. Whether he was a threat or not, he was wary which wasn't very difficult if you had many fans who were always trying to follow you.
"I d-d-on't k-kno-." It seemed as if he stopped abruptly, but he continued on another tone, as if he was a whole difficult person. "How did you know, mister Potter?" he put his hands tangled under his head, looking with interesting eyes at the healer boy before him. Yet dangerous sparkles which wasn't specifically intended on the boy could be seen in the brown –maybe even with light speckles of red- eyes.
"Hmmm…" Harry took the pen on his table and wrote some notes in the file. He didn't look up to the other, while answering: "I wouldn't say I knew it. I rather wanted to test it out…. I once had a patient like you professor, stuttering like a crazy, looking interested, yet studying and hopeful? He wanted attention, like most of my patient do. It's very annoying sir, you know? But that's not my only reason, that same person asked medicine he didn't need, of course at that time I didn't know he was faking, though I suspected. In the end he died of taking those unnecessary pills. I regretted not trusting my instincts, I doubt the man was sane, but we never know. That's why I became more observant and try to get people more… how to explain it… more honest I guess. I only had a feeling and you got trapped in my trap." With that said Harry laid down the pen on the table and watched the professor carefully.
"I see, mister Potter. You are a clever boy."
"I wouldn't say I'm clever. I'm rather observant." Harry stated. "Well… is there any chance that you will tell me what's the reason of your dramatically play? I can assure there's nothing to be embarrassed of and of course I won't spout it to the others. As a healer I made an oath. It's my task to give it my all to save patient so I prefer you to give me the truth as it might be life-saving, or I have to force you if necessary…"
"Oh my, mister Potter, already giving out threats? Very unlike a healer." Quirrell –maybe Voldemort at that time- stated.
"It's for your own well-being, sir." Harry smiled charmingly.
"My apologies, but secrets stay secrets, otherwise it wouldn't be called a secret." Harry nodded, though he didn't give up. He took a piece of paper out of the drawer of the wooden desk and scribbled down something on it. Then the paper was shoved in front of the professor.
"I guess you want me to give you more 'sessions' and fortunately we can continue it at Hogwarts." Quirrell looked at him agitated, but then changed his mind.
"When is the next appointment?" he asked. Harry was a bit surprised, those who received extra sessions would often struggle, he expected the same of the man in front of him. He quickly regained his composure while thinking up a great win-win situation.
"Today, 9:00AM, at Diagon alley."
"Diagon alley?"
"Yes. In the Leaky Cauldron. Don't call my name. If you must, call me healer or boy. Also, I'll approach you, don't come searching for me, you understand sir?" He emphasized the last word.
The professor didn't look happy being commanded, but he nodded anyways, keeping his attention more on the strange request or rather command.
Author Note: I appreciate reviews favours and follows. Those who enjoyed it should surely do the last one since the updates are irregular.