Summary: A young Muggle is in hospital and the doctors were looking for a blood donor from a close relative. Harry has a plan to bring Muggle and Magical medicine together. Pre Epilogue.
Disclaimer: I'm not JKR. Any character you might recognize belongs to her genius. She's a much better story teller than I am, too.
Chapter Four: Two Doctors and Secrets
Doctor Simons looked over Michael Statterin's lab results with total disbelief. A few weeks ago his white count was over one hundred thousand and climbing, today it was eleven thousand, which was totally impossible under any circumstances. There was simply no way, physiologically, a young child could change this rapidly. The boy was a medical anomaly, that's all there was to it.
"Frank, Eleanor," he said to the parents, "Michael seems to be just fine as far as I can tell. I am at a loss to explain it, but his white count looks more like a child with the sniffles than one that was terribly ill not three weeks ago."
Frank tried not to grin. "That's very good news, Doctor Simons."
"Yes, well, I'd still like to see him again in a week or so for a checkup,
just to make sure, you understand," he said. "I have to say I'm a bit baffled at how fast he recovered. Not that I'm not totally pleased with what I'm seeing, please don't think that, but I do want to make sure there are no lasting effects to worry about."
"That would be just fine with us," Frank said. "I want to thank you for taking such good care of my son. I'll not forget how much you care for your patients."
"Thank you," Dr. Simons said. "If it wouldn't be too much to ask, what exactly did this Dr. Pomfrey do? I'm always interested in any treatment modality that can help other children." He looked at the two parents hoping they'd share. So many ill children came through his office. There were times to show confidence and pride in one's training and there were times to be humble with results not in one's control.
"Uh, that might be a bit dicey," Frank admitted. "I'm not totally clear on it myself as yet. She did say it wasn't leukemia but ... something else."
"I see," the doctor said, not seeing at all. Probably doing psychic surgery or some other sleight of hand, was his thought. Still, lab results are empiric. "If Dr. Pomfrey would care to pay a visit, I'd very much like to discuss her treatment. I'm always one to learn something new."
The parents glanced at each other. "I'll certainly mention your interest."
"I would be most grateful," the pediatrician said. "You can make an appointment with Mrs. Grady at the desk."
All stood up, Frank reaching out to shake hands. "Thank you once again, Doctor."
Dr. Simons read the results once more, then called the lab to make sure there was no confusion. Perhaps a mix up in samples.
"No, Dr. Simons. I personally re-ran the tests to make sure myself,"
Dr. Al Rasheed said over the phone. "Rather odd, the incompatibilities,
what? Quite a change. I even re-ran the old samples we had in storage. It came back exactly as before."
"Yes, rather odd," Dr. Simons agreed to himself as he took another look at the numbers.
When Michael came in the next week with his mother, she had a man with her that looked familiar. A bit smaller than average though he carried himself with a great deal of confidence, wiry, and the green eyes behind the glasses seemed to take in everything around him, filing the information away.
"Hello there Mr. Statterin," Dr. Simons said to Michael.
"I'm Michael," the boy said. "Mr. Statterin is my daddy."
"Yes, of course he is," the doctor agreed and turned to his mother. "If you'd like to take him back we can get the labs drawn."
"Come along, Mr. Statterin," the boy's mother said with an amused grin and took her giggling son's hand.
Dr. Simons looked at the man standing and watching the boy and his mother walk down the hall. "Didn't I see you visiting Michael when he was in hospital?" he asked.
"Yes sir," the man agreed. "Wonderful boy she has."
Something about him piqued his curiosity, so Dr Simons asked, "If I might ask, what is your relationship to him?"
The man put on a disarming smile and said, "Just friends."
"Just friends," Dr. Simons said. "I see."
Keeping that easy smile on, he said, "It's nothing nefarious. My wife just adores Michael. And Lily, my little girl, she latched onto him and they're the best of buds now."
At the look the doctor was giving him, he said, "Like I said, just friends."
Dr. Simons decided a bit of a chance was in order. "Do you know this Dr. Pomfrey they were talking about?"
"Actually, yes I do," the man returned with an amused expression.
"I'd rather like to talk with her," he said. "Would you happen to know how I can contact her?"
A thousand thoughts went through his head, most of them he'd already planned out, but when faced with taking another chance, he went through them again just to make sure.
"Are you an open minded man, Dr. Simons?" he asked casually.
Simons frowned at the change in tacks. "I like to think I can take in new information, analyze it and come to a logical conclusion," he said.
The man gave his best confident smile and thought of how he was going to explain this one to Shacklebolt. Or worse, the Wizengamot.
He asked the doctor, "How about when the conclusion defies logic?
What do you do then?"
"And this relates to Dr. Pomfrey how?" Simons asked.
"She isn't what you might call your run-of-the-mill practitioner," was the answer. "Eccentric, one might say."
"There have been many discoveries in medicine made by the non run-
of-the-mill eccentrics," Simons said. "In the eighteen hundreds, several medical students got together and experimented with various combinations of inhaled anesthetics until they found ones that worked. These days it would be called recreational drug use. Sometimes an open mind can see things others may miss."
Dr. Simons saw the interest in the man's eye and went on, "Michael was quite ill, the Statterins take him to someone I can find no trace of and he comes back as healthy as any child I've seen in my years of practice. I'm at a loss to explain this, so, yes, when I see Michael happy and healthy, I'm interested in off-the-wall ideas."
The man ran a hand over his receding black hair. "Yes, I can understand that. You should meet my friend Luna. She has all kinds of peculiar ideas, a few are actually quite brilliant," he said.
"So, this Dr. Pomfrey," Simons said to get back to the question, "would it be possible to talk to her? I'd very much like to meet her."
With the thought of how he was going to pull this one off, he said, "I'll see what I can do."
"I appreciate your efforts in this regard, sir," Simons said. "I must say I'm at a disadvantage. I don't know your name." He held out his hand.
"Gregory Simons. So pleased to meet you."
"Potter, sir. Harry Potter."
Hermione frowned at Harry like she had been doing for nearly twenty years. "Are you insane?
Harry replied, "That inquiry usually means the questioner believes the questioned to be in said condition. Hence, any answer the questioned might give would be a null response."
Hermione frowned a little harder then relaxed. "You actually read 'The Logic of Argument and Rhetoric' I loaned you from Oxford?" and got a nod.
"Well, for goodness sake, don't let Ron get hold of it. It's hard enough to keep ahead of him these days."
"Yes, Hermione," Harry said and got a flick of amusement on her face.
She huffed once and said, "Since your mind is already made up and you're merely asking to pique my curiosity and enlist my help, do you have an actual plan on how you are going to talk to this Dr. Simons?"
Harry sighed, "Let's see. I've done dinner with Ginny, lunch with Bill and Fleur and they both worked out pretty well. But I think Dr. Simons is going to be a bit more difficult."
"So you haven't a clue," Hermione stated needlessly.
Harry shrugged. "I just don't know what would really impress him."
"Oh Harry," Hermione said with another huff. "Hit him where he lives.
Take him to St. Mungo's. Let him meet with the Healers."
Harry's eyes flared. "Shacklebolt would have me slow roasted if I exposed ... if I did that. We'd have to deal with a hospital full of Healers and I'm not that good with Memory Charms. Not that many."
Hermione smiled and said, "I have an idea."
Dr. Simons was standing on the hearth of a large fireplace in a seldom used and rather dusty room in Oxford University. "Mr. Potter. I've gone along with this plan of yours to meet this doctor with good humor so far, but what's this about my cell phone?"
Harry replied, "Trust me. It's best if you leave it here for the time being."
Hermione stepped close to the two men and said, "Madam Pomfrey is ready to meet you. It's all clear." She took the offered cell phone and put it on the table.
Harry looked at the doctor and said, "If you wouldn't mind, could you take my hand."
"I beg your pardon?" the older man asked.
Harry got a handful of Floo powder in one hand, took the doctor's hand in the other as Hermione hopped in, tossed the powder at the grate, pulled the doctor in close and said, "Hospital de Magie du Accident, Cannes."
"Mr. Potter. Just what the devil do you think ..." the doctor said, then looked around. "Where ... where are we?" he asked with a tremor in his voice.
Harry gave a small smile and said, "Hospital de Magie du Accident in Cannes, France."
Madam Pomfrey took the doctor's hand from Harry and said, "Welcome to Cannes, Dr. Simons. I'm Poppy Pomfrey. So glad to meet you. And you,
Miss, uh, Mrs. Weasley."
Eyes roaming around the small room, Simons absently answered,
"Pleased to meet you."
Pomfrey's mouth twitched in the shadow of a grin. "Yes. Come along then. Let's go for a tour. I think you might find this professionally interesting."
Dr. Simons had little to say until he saw the first patient. "Oh. Those spots around the neck. Petechiae? Like Michael Statterin?"
"Precisely," Madam Pomfrey answered. "Clear sign of Dragon Pox if there ever was one. Notice the greenish tinge to his skin?"
"Yes," the doctor said. "Never seen anything quite like it." Turning to Pomfrey he asked, "What are you doing for it?"
"We have a reliable potion," she answered. "Dumbledore was working on a better potion when he ... passed away. I believe Professor Longbottom is very close to reproducing his work. We should have a much better and significantly safer cure soon enough I'd think. Brilliant Man, Neville."
Dr. Simon's brow was furrowed. "Safer? Potion?"
"Come along," Poppy said and led him along the ward. "Yes. What we've been using has worked for centuries, but for some reason more and more, children especially, they aren't responding as well as they used to in my younger days, so we keep increasing the dosage. Frankly, I'm worried."
They stopped near another bed. "Now, Monsieur Delaqois here, he's one of those not responding as quickly as one would like."
On the bed was a teenaged boy with a deeply green complexion. "See here? Not only covered in red splotches from head to toe but sporting a sickly green pallor of such a color as I've never seen. As bad a case of Dragon Pox as there is. He's been under treatment for more than a week but it just isn't working."
Dr. Simons stared at the patient in bed, not wanting to believe what he was seeing, yet unable to convince himself his eyes were wrong. He was still staring, trying to figure out how his skin could possibly be so green, when he was nudged along by Pomfrey. When they were far enough away she turned to him with a very worried look.
"I'm afraid we're going to lose him," she said rather softly. "He's just not responding and we're already at the maximum safe dose. To tell the truth, the Healers here have given him thirty percent more than is called for and he's still not improving. I just don't know what to do for him.
"Every dose we give the boy makes his heart race out of control," she went on. "He breaks out in a terrible cold sweat and becomes quite irrational. Says he sees things flying about the room and he can't seem to gather the strength to lift a finger."
"What was his pulse rate and blood pressure?" Dr. Simons asked.
"Pulse, yes, rapid and hard to feel," Poppy said. "Blood pressure, well we don't really ... You do mean how hard his blood is being pumped, don't you?"
Harry saw Dr. Simons react with a fury before he got himself under control. "Blood pressure, Madam, is a basic vital sign. What do you mean you don't monitor that? It's quite clear your patient was suffering from hypotensive shock. Don't you have any vasopressors on hand?"
"Vasopressors?" Poppy asked with curiosity.
"Good lord," Dr. Simons said quietly. "I think we should have a little talk about a few things," and turned to Harry.
"I certainly hope there is a better explanation for this than I'm currently thinking, Mr. Potter."
Harry nodded his head. "Perhaps we could go somewhere a little less public and discuss this."
An hour later Dr. Simon was in his office building, talking with one of his colleagues, making promises to return what he was asking for in good shape before finding Harry and hustling down a hallway.
"Will the aluminium foil protect these devices?" Dr. Simons asked.
"They are absolutely essential and rather expensive, you know."
"Tell you the truth, I've never Flooed anything quite like this," Harry said. "If it doesn't work, I'll pay for them myself. Shall we?"
"We have a very ill boy that needs help," Dr. Simons said, picking up his bag of medications and hoisting two shiny-wrapped bundles. "Let's not waste time talking about it."
Half an hour later Poppy Pomfrey looked at the patient on the bed with a mixture of curiosity and horror, then at the boxes Dr. Simons had set up next to a tray of small jars, potion bags, and ... needles. Needles in her hospital. In her patient! With a tremor in her voice she asked, "You're sure this eyevee thing will work?"
"I use them all the time," Dr. Simons replied evenly. "I'm ready. Start the potion."
Pomfrey talked to the few others in the room in French then took the potion jar in her hand. "I told them I'd jinx the lot of them if they so much as touched a wand in this room," she said. "Ready Doctor?"
"Go ahead."
Three hours later the boy's complexion was pale but the green color was gone and he was eating a bowl of soup.
"I never," Poppy was saying. "Never in all my days would I have said this to a Muggle," and turned to Dr. Simons. "Thank you Dr. Simons. I'm proud to have worked with you, sir."
"Poppy," he answered, with a fond smile, "I just did my job. It was your potion that cured him. I think he was having a reaction that manifested itself in a hypotensive episode which interfered with him absorbing your potion. Passed through him like ... nevermind. Perhaps he's just sensitive to your medicine."
"Hmmm. Yes," Pomfrey said. "It's been most enlightening to work with you, my good man," she said and held her hand out.
Dr. Simons took it, then gently placed his other hand on top, and said,
"You know, Poppy, we're not spring chickens either of us, but I'd very much like your company at dinner. Do you know of a quiet French restaurant close by where we might, uh, compare notes? And please, call me Gregory."
Poppy did something she hadn't done in longer than anyone could remember. She blushed, deeply and redly. "Why Dr. ... Gregory, I'd be honored," she replied and gave his hand a soft squeeze.
Hermione watched the two leave the room hand in hand. "Harry. I didn't think she even knew how to smile. All I ever saw her do was scowl at us at Hogwarts. She was acting like a fourth year girl at her first Yule Ball."
"Yes," Harry agreed. "Brings back bad memories."
"Oh, you're hopeless," Hermione said. "That was ages ago."
"I suppose it was," he agreed. "Now I have to think of a way to explain this to the Minister. At least we did it here where few people really understood what was going on."
Hermione shook her head. "Didn't you see Francois Albachier next to Madam Pomfrey? She was with the Beauxbatons that came for the Tri-
Wizard competition. She speaks English better than I speak French."
"Merlin's shorts!" Harry exclaimed. "Will she say anything?"
Hermione gave Harry an indulgent smile. "Already taken care of. We had a conversation; she agreed to stay quiet and said she'd talk to the other Healers present to keep this all a secret."
"Hermione, you're my hero," Harry said. "If nothing else, at least Shacklebolt has removed the Dementors from Azkaban."
A week later Kingsley Shacklebolt glared at Harry across his desk.
"This is going too far, Potter. I know where the Dementors went. I can bring them back to Azkaban, you know, just for you."
"Sorry, Minister," Harry said. "It was a desperate situation. The boy would have died according to Mad ... according to what I understood."
"As to Madam Pomfrey," Kingsley said with his voice sounding curious now rather than furious. "What is going on with her? I've seen her in every situation possible, but when I visited with her today, she was smiling. And giggling. Like a first year. Care to enlighten me on that?"
Harry chuckled. "Well, it appears she met someone that's become very special to her."
"And?" Kingsley demanded.
"Dr. Simons," Harry said. "He took her out to dinner after they cured the boy in Cannes. Seems they've become an item." He grinned in amusement.
"Potter," Kingsley said with frustration clear in his tone. "First you exposed O'Neil to us, then the Statterins, and now you've somehow managed to corrupt Madam Pomfrey. Is there any limit to how far you are going to go with this campaign of yours?"
"Honestly, Pomfrey and Simons was totally unexpected," Harry said.
"How would anyone guess she'd fall head over heels for a Muggle? Especially at her age?"
Kingsley leaned back in his chair. "Well, I can't fault Poppy for falling in love. If nothing else she can keep tabs on this doctor. Maybe the Statute means more to her than it seems to mean to you.
"From now on, Harry, consult with me first," Kingsley said. "I can keep a lid on things if I know what's going on, being Minister does have its advantages. It also has its disadvantages, like a full hearing of the Wizengamot. Although I have more than half of them in agreement with me for most things, if this got out in an uncontrolled way I'd be worrying about the Dementors' Kiss myself. I cannot stress enough that you can't keep taking independent action like you have been doing.
"Harry this is important," he said in a very serious and sincere voice.
"Please do not do anything further that involves the Muggle world learning more of us than they already do."
"But sir," Harry said, "we can benefit each other. There is so much to learn. A good mix of Muggle and Magical medicine alone can surely save lives, not to mention being able to call on the resources of Scotland Yard to track down Death Eaters. It's not much to risk, and if we are going to be so paranoid that people are forced to suffer and die all because we're afraid of our own shadow, what does that say for us?"
Kingsley steepled his fingers together in silence for a minute, eyes flicking from Harry to a portrait behind him, thought about where that particular portrait connected, then looked back again.
Kingsley put his hands on the desk in front of him. "I want your word that what I'm about to tell you never leaves this office."
"Of course, sir," Harry agreed.
"You don't know what you're agreeing to."
"True," Harry agreed amiably, "but that hasn't stopped me yet."
"Hmmm. Yes," Kingsley said. "I have been in contact with the Prime Minister's office for some time now. Their intelligence services first deduced that something unexplainable had been going on when Voldemort's Death Eaters were running rampant. They have these video camera things everywhere it seems. They're neither blind nor dullards and our Obliviators couldn't get to all of them. Worse yet, they figured out that something was happening to their officers we set memory charms on, something they knew was impossible, so they dug deeper.
"The Home Office was instructed to put a damper on it but it had already got the attention of some very dedicated and very, very intelligent people. They know about us, Harry. Do you understand what that means?
They know about the Second Wizarding War. They know about Voldemort.
They know about magic. They know we are living among them, as careful as we have tried to be. They know."
Harry said, "Then they should be glad we're here to protect them."
"You aren't using that finely trained brain of yours," Kingsley accused.
"If they know, they'll want to take advantage of the situation. Use us. Put us to work for them. For their gain, not ours. Voldemort had the same idea, if you remember. Advantage and power. Of course, it will seem that we are just doing them a favor here and there, but the long term shows problems coming."
Kingsley frowned in concentration. "People have gone missing with no explanation. From both societies. What I fear, what we all fear, may have already started. 'Magic is Might'. Recall where you saw that? Now, put that into perspective. It works for both our worlds."
Kingsley could see Harry's thoughts on his face and decided now was the time to get his attention. "I understand you had possession of the Elder wand," Kingsley calmly said.
"Well, yes. I did. For a very short time. That's no secret."
"And you put it back in Dumbledore's tomb," Kingsley said.
Harry, for the first time in a long time, nearly came out of his chair. He stared at his boss in shock. "I ... no one ... I thought it best."
"You were going to say you thought no one saw you," Kingsley said.
"That no one knew. Is that right?"
"Yes sir, it is." Harry slumped in his seat.
"I won't upset you by telling you what Minerva and I discovered in the Headmaster's office right after the Battle. We thought it should stay private so we ... secured ... the memories we found," Kingsley said, leaning back in his chair again.
Harry was quiet for some time. "Sir, if I might inquire how this affects our earlier conversation?"
Leaning back in his chair further and putting his fingers together,
Kingsley Shacklebolt thought of what he was going to say next. He said nothing until he could see Harry nervously squirming in his chair.
"We are in agreement about contact between our two worlds,"
Kingsley said. "But, and I can't tell you how important this is, you must not take any further freelance actions that might upset the delicate balance the Prime Minister and I have been able to maintain. There are powerful people on both sides that want to take advantage of the other for their own ends.
Short term ends. I cannot divulge some of the things going on in the background, even to you, and I trust you more than almost anyone alive,
Harry. Let's just say that ... oddities have been cropping up of late that threaten the Muggle world as much as our own. Wars have been fought over such things."
It was time for the kicker. "Dumbledore left you clues in 'The Tales of Beedle the Bard'."
"How did you ..." Harry started to ask and stopped. Hermione had never let that book out of her sight. Which meant ...
Kingsley let the information sink in, saw Harry understand how that little tidbit had to have been obtained, then said, "The Aurors aren't the only source of data available to the Ministry. Where did you think the information for your briefings came from? Did you think I wasn't up to building my own intelligence network? Lives are at stake here."
Kingsley saw the impact he was having and said, "I need you to talk to me before you do anything further in this area. Do I have your word on this?
It means no more free agency on your part, and I wouldn't ask this of a trusted Auror and a close friend if I didn't think it important, but I'm asking it of you. Now."
He watched the play of emotions on Harry's face and saw he was having the needed effect. If only he could bring him into the inner circle.
But, no, he wasn't at that point yet. He wouldn't see the need to control,
carefully control, the shifting tides of social attitudes; he'd just go charging in and to hell with the consequences. So very much more was at stake than saving a few lives. Kingsley felt the onus of his office as he watched Harry take it all in, knowing he was going to withhold vital information from him because it was necessary for the benefit of all. It had been done to Harry once before and Kingsley felt the burden weigh heavily on his shoulders at having to repeat the terrible breech of trust.
Sometimes the "Greater Good" hurt. A lot.
Harry started nodding then said, "I agree. No freelancing. I'll consult with you first."
Kingsley found he'd been holding his breath and let it out in a long sigh. "That, my friend, is what I expected to hear from you."
Harry thought a moment more of everything he had heard in the last few minutes, and the things that hadn't been said. "There's a lot more to this you aren't saying. Not just what you said you weren't going to divulge, more than that."
Kingsley met the cool, intelligent gaze from the one man he knew he could trust in any way. "That is true. It must stay that way for the time being, but I give you my word that when the time comes, you'll understand.
You may wish to not understand then and I'll honor that if that's your choice.
The burden can be quite ... ponderous, Harry. Even after all you carried when you were younger, the bravery and selfless actions you took, this you might find to be heavier."
"Yes, I think I see that," Harry said. "I'll keep my impulses under control and I'll consult with you on a regular basis should it become necessary. You have my word, sir."
"I cannot express my thanks enough, Harry," Kingsley said. "I expected nothing less from you, of course, but again, thank you."
"You're welcome, Minister," Harry said.
"Now, I was thinking it's high time I repaid you and your wife's generous hospitality," The Minister said in a cheery voice. "Would your family be available for a roast up this weekend? I got this wonderful new barbecue for my birthday I've been dying to try out."
The Potter children were engaged in a game of three on three Quidditch with the Minister's children and a neighbor boy, zooming above the pasture by the horse corral as Harry watched. Shrieks and exuberant cries came from the field as he sipped a fire whiskey and traded stories of growing up in the Muggle world with Mrs. Shacklebolt. As they talked, a creepy feeling came over Harry, prickling the hairs on the back of his neck. After so many years as an Auror, he'd learned to pay attention to such things, so he got up when Ginny rose to help their hosts with the salad and dishes, looking around as carefully and nonchalantly as he could.
When he got the feel for the direction, he maneuvered himself until the patio covering hid him and slipped his wand out from his sleeve holder while fingering a few items in his pocket. Even at the Minister's home he was still an Auror, armed and ready. Very delicately, he applied a touch of Legilimency to the Holly until he felt it vibrate sympathetically. Being careful to keep his actions hidden under the cover, he brought it around in a small circle, found what he was afraid he was going to find and set about locating the source. When he had as much information as he could extract without putting too much power into it and giving the game up, he slipped the wand back in his sleeve and wandered over to help check the roasting meat on the barbecue.
After trading a few cooking suggestions he put his hand on Shacklebolt's and, as calmly as he could, said, "We're being watched."
A/N One more chapter.