Chapter 2: The Worst Accident in 150 Years

Harry had just brought his class of 7th year Gryffindors and Slytherins to order when McGonagall appeared at the door.

"Professor Potter," she said in her prim voice, "a word, please."

Harry stepped out into the hall.

McGonagall was wringing her hands, which wasn't like her. "George Weasley just came to my office. There's been an accident. Hermione's been injured. They want you and Arthur at St. Mungo's right away."

"What happened?" Harry asked, not quite believing what he was hearing.

Professor McGonagall shook her head. "I don't know."

"Is George still here?"

"No, he's already left for hospital."

"Alright," Harry said, trying to get his thoughts together. "What do you want me to do about my class?"

"I'll take care of them. You collect Arthur and go."

Harry nodded and went back into the room. "Art, come with me."

Art looked at Emma, who shared his desk.

"Now, Art," Harry insisted.

Art grabbed his school bag and followed his uncle up the stairs into his office.

When Art stepped out of the fireplace into the lobby of St. Mungo's he couldn't believe what he was seeing. His uncles, Fred and George, with a great deal of effort, were holding his father back while his father was shouting expletives at a tall man he'd never seen before. The tall man was disturbingly covered in blood and looked like he felt he deserved the abuse Ron was heaping on him.

He felt his Uncle Harry push by him and run to stand in front of his father. Art dropped his bag and followed.

Harry stood between the two men. His mere presence seemed to calm Ron down some.

"What's going on here?" Harry demanded.

"That bastard lied to me is what! It's his fault Hermione's here. Can't you see him covered in her blood?" Ron growled straining against his brothers' hold.

Harry gave the man such a hard look that Art stepped back. "Is that true?" Harry asked quietly.

"It's true this is Hermione's blood," the tall man pushed his fingers through his hair, leaving streaks of blood on his forehead. He looked a bit ill.

"Look, my name is Thomas Greene, Hermione works for me. I assume you know where."

Harry nodded.

"I don't know what exactly happened today. There was an explosion…a magical explosion…it shouldn't have happened, the project was cleared…we'll have to investigate…but I swear to you, no one sent her to deal with this…I don't even know what she was doing there…but thank heavens she was."

Ron strained against his brothers as Harry held a hand against his chest and growled, "How's that?"

"The room was destroyed. Both of my other…employees…spliffed. Clearly, she controlled the blast, which is why…" he looked down at his bloody clothes and held out his hands. "It could have been so much worse, we could have lost that whole wing and who knows how many people. She --"

"Greene!" Someone shouted.

Art looked up to see a contingent of men in formal robes approaching. The one in the lead he recognized as the Minister of Magic. "Bloody hell, Greene, the worst accident in 150 years, 150 years! On my watch, damn you!"

"Minister," Greene mumbled.

The Minister held up his hand to silence him. "Not here." He turned to one of his subordinates, "Find us a meeting room." He looked at the Weasleys and Harry. "I'm so sorry for what's happened here today. Any word on how she is?"

Ron's fury seemed to have dissipated as Greene left with the contingent of men. He shook his head. "No."

The Minister cleared his throat. "Well, if there's anything I can do for you, just ask."

Ron nodded.

"Please keep me posted of her progress, Hermione's been a wonderful asset to the Ministry," he said. "Unfortunately, I have to go. The investigation into this incident can't wait."

Ron nodded again, but didn't really seem to acknowledge the Minister.

"Dad?" Art said softly.

Ron looked up.

A healer walked up then. "Excuse me," he said, "are you the Weasleys?"

"Yeah," Ron said. "How's Hermione?"

The healer frowned. "We've had to put her in stasis."

"Stasis? What's that mean?" Ron said.

"We've frozen time around her." The healer continued. "We've called in a healer that specializes in catastrophic magical accidents. She's with Mrs. Weasley now."

Catastrophic. Art didn't like the sound of that.

"When can I see her?" Ron asked.

"As soon as the healer finishes her assessment she'll be able to let you know."

When the healer left, Harry turned to Ron, "Come on, mate, let's have a seat."

Everyone migrated over to the waiting area. During the next 15 minutes, Art watched as his Aunt Ginny, his grandmother and his Aunt Angelina all came through the Floo. Everyone hugged each other and then proceeded to sit in strained silence as they waited for word.

The whole thing seemed kind of surreal to Art. He wasn't sure if he was supposed to be doing something or saying something. His grandmother reached over and took his hand and gave it a squeeze. She smiled sadly at him. He drew comfort from her hand and continued to hold it.

An hour later another healer appeared. "Ron?"

Art sensed a new tension in the group.

Ron stood. "Michelle?"

Art was somewhat surprised when the healer put her arms around his dad.

"I'm the healer they brought in to treat your wife."

Ron's mouth opened but it took an extra moment for him to say, "How is she?"

"Sit down," Michelle said.

Ron sat obediently.

Michelle sat across from him on the coffee table and addressed all of them. "I'm not going to sugar coat this, it's bad. But it's not hopeless."

Art felt a hollow pit form in his stomach.

"What we need is blood from a female relative."

Ginny and Mrs. Weasley leaned forward.

Michelle smiled at them. "I appreciate your willingness to help, but it has to be a blood relative: mother, sister, daughter, niece, grandmother even."

Ron shook his head. "But she hasn't any."

Michelle looked surprised, "None at all?"

"No," Ron said, pushing his fingers through his hair. "We only have the one son," he looked at Art. "Her parent's have been dead for ages. She was an only child."

"What about grandparents? An aunt maybe?"

Ron shook his head again, "Her parents were both orphans. Hermione always speculated that they were squibs dumped by magical families, but she was never able to trace them in the magical or Muggle world."

Michelle scrubbed a hand down her face. "Then we have a problem."

"Does it have to be someone else's blood?" Art asked.

Michelle smiled kindly at him. "It has to be female."

"I'm not talking about me, I'm talking about Mum."

Michelle shook her head, "We can't use her blood. It's infused with the after effects of the explosion, that's why we need new blood to make a potion. Regular blood replenisher won't work. It would just make more bad blood."

"But would some of her blood from before work?" Art asked.

"Yes," Michelle said, "but I've already had the hospital bank checked. There isn't a sample on file."

"Well, Mum has a sample."

Everyone looked at him.

"What are you on about, Artie?" Ron asked.

"In her potions cabinet at home," Art explained. "Remember when I was helping her clean out her office?"

Ron nodded, "Yeah."

"Well there was this little vial labeled 'Virgin's Blood'. I teased her about running about bleeding virgins and she told me not to be ridiculous, that it was her blood."

Michelle arched an eyebrow.

"She said she saved it because she thought you might need some when you fought Voldemort, and she wanted to have it on hand." Art continued.

Ron looked at Harry. Harry shrugged.

"She said she'd never used it," Art finished.

Michelle looked at Art. "It must be a pretty old sample. Do you think it's still sealed?"

"Well, Mum sealed it," Art said indignantly.

"Then it's sealed," Harry and Ron both answered.

"Alright then," Michelle said. "Go get it."