St. Mungos
At St Mungos Pomfrey and Shacklebolt whisked Harper right past a grumpy woman with short blonde hair and blue eyes down a hallway and into an exam room.
"It's like you don't want me to be seen or something," Harper commented suspiciously. Although she expected she already knew why. She was Harry freaking Potter after all.
Shacklebolt nodded. "Very observant, Mr. Potter. It all has to do with your history. You're famous."
That started the big 'revelation' that Harry Potter was the Boy-Who-Lived. Shacklebolt and Pompfrey took turns telling the story of the rise of Voldemort, the terror it caused in the wizarding world, and his defeat when trying to kill Harry. None of this was exactly news to Harper. The only real surprise was that Shacklebolt had no trouble saying Voldemort's name. He even explained about the taboo on the name which was why other wizards still feared to say it. That was something Harry didn't find out until book seven. Since she actually knew all this background information and more, the hardest part was pretending not to know it. She knew how to hide her true feelings. She'd had years of practice while keeping up a brave face for her family and never letting them see how scared she was. Yet, maybe a brave face wasn't the most appropriate response, because Shacklebolt seemed to grow suspicious as the story ended.
"I have to say, Mr. Potter, you're taking this all quite well," he observed.
"Am I? I guess it's all a little unreal to me, Mr. Shacklebolt. Everything you are saying is just names to me. I don't remember my parents. It means something that they weren't a couple of out-of-work nobodies who got drunk and wrecked their car." She offered up her best fake smile. "As for the magic, that does explain some strange things that happened in my childhood. I think it is going to take a while for all of this to sink in. Is it selfish that I'm more worried about where I'm going to live and that I won't get beaten or locked in the cupboard for days at a time again?"
"That's not going to happen, Mr. Potter." Madame Pomfrey's voice managed to combine kindness with a promise like forging steel. "You will be staying with my husband Steven and I for the summer. When school resumes, you'll be sorted into a house at Hogwarts and a permanent guardian can be assigned."
"Okay, so explain what that means. What is Hogwarts and what is a sorting?" That question led to another long discussion about things that Harper already knew from reading the books. The conversation started with the background of Hogwarts as a school of wizardry under Albus Dumbledore, and moved onto the four houses, backtracked to cover how underaged wizardry was not allowed, and then finished up talking about the sorting without mentioning the Sorting Hat. About the only new knowledge that Harper gleaned in the discussion was that Madame Pomfrey had been a Hufflepuff and Shaklebolt had been in Gryffindor.
"Alright, I think I've got all that, but what does that have to do with having to be sorted into a house before I'm placed with a permanent guardian?"
"That's complicated Mr. Potter. You see —." Shacklebolt abruptly stopped when someone else entered the room. "We can talk more later, Mr. Potter. I'd best let Healer Smethwyck and Madame Pomfrey have their turn."
Harper expected to have to strip down to her briefs and go through a lot of tests and bloodwork, but the diagnosis consisted mostly of Smethwyck waving his wand, casting spells, and pulling multiple strange-looking diagnostic devices out of a black bag that looked too small to hold them. He did a lot of conferring with Madame Pomfrey as well as muttering and shaking his head. Harper knew quite a bit of medical jargon, but even so a good deal flew over her head. However, she could very well understand years of abuse, improperly healed bones and a mild case of scurvy.
The scurvy particularly seemed to infuriate the healer. "Scurvy, in this day and age. Even muggles know better. Their medicine isn't that primitive. What did they feed you?"
"Table scraps," replied Harper. It was after all the truth, at least the truth for Harry. "When I could get them."
While Madame Pomfrey and Shacklebolt took this in stride, Healer Smethwyck who had been a consummate professional so far lost his cool and his temper. "This is how they treat Harry Potter?! Shacklebolt, this is an outrage! What is the Ministry doing about this?!"
"It is being handled, Hippocrates. The criminals were muggles and will face muggle justice. I'd also like to remind you that your oath as a Mediwizard forbids you disclosing the details of patient's condition and treatment."
"It doesn't matter if you remind me or not, Kingsley. I swore an oath. Fortunately, he is a minor, and there are signs of abuse. I no choice but to report it to the Ministry."
"That's why I'm here. You just reported it to me. Treat him so we can get out of here."
"Very well." Smethwyck turned back to Harper. He took a deep breath and resumed his professional manner. "Mr. Potter you have suffered extensive damage to your body over years, but the good news it is all mundane. We can fix most of it with ease. The hardest part will be fixing some of your bones that mended wrong. I'm going to have to first break them and then reset them correctly. I'm going to give you a strong sleeping draught first."
Harper nodded in understanding. "That's how the muggle doctor's do it as well."
Smethwyck scoffed. "I don't think they can fix the breaks in seconds. Everything else is easy. You'll need a special mix of strength potion and skele-gro, two drops a day for a month that will help counteract the effects of the malnutrition you suffered. Madame Pomfrey can oversee that. You should also get fitted for glasses. There is an optometrist on Diagon Alley."
"What would happen if I kept taking the potion? Would I keep growing?" asked Harper.
"No, long-term augmentation by potions can have bad side-effects. I certainly wouldn't recommend it in a growing child. This will just help correct the damage done by your malnutrition, no more."
"Oh." That made sense. If it was easy then all witches and wizards would have perfect bodies. "So when do we do this? Do you need to schedule an operating room?"
Smethwyck laughed. "No, just drink this."
Harper grabbed the bottle and drank. Naturally it tasted awful. Apparently it was a universal constant that whether in the real world or dreams, mundane or magical, all medicine must taste awful. She didn't have time to consider anything else, because sleep hit her like a freight train. To Harper it felt like she had just shut her eyes when suddenly she was awake, and she felt wonderful. Even after Madame Pomfrey had healed her ribs, they'd still ached and hurt a bit when she breathed. Plus there was the black and swollen eye from where Vernon had kicked her, another lump on the back of her head that the doctor's really worried about. Not to mention assorted aches and pains all over. As familiar as she was with pain she'd just accepted all that as normal. For the first time in longer than she could remember she didn't hurt — anywhere. She also felt amazingly refreshed.
The mediwizard had left as had Shacklebolt, but Madame Pomfrey's kind face was smiling at her. "Welcome back, Mr. Potter. How are you feeling?"
"Better! Oh I feel so much better. Thank you!" Suddenly without forethought she hugged old Madame Pomfrey as she cried tears of happiness. "I'd forgotten what it felt like not to be in pain." Although it wasn't just pain. There was a deep down feeling of being refreshed and… healthy.
Madame Pomfrey was surprised for only a moment, but then she embraced the crying child tightly. "Don't worry child. You're away from those monsters and you'll never have to see them again."