As promised, much timelier than the last. As I warned in the beginning this will be a long story. I only got thru about half of Harry's injuries here. Oops.

I have taken extreme liberty's with wizarding medicine. I think magic could be an extremely useful tool, and certainly save time on diagnostics (I think I gave Poppy some pretty cool new spells), but it has always grated on me how JKR would just instantly fix things. I work in an ER and things definitely are not that simple. I've never liked the unlimited use of magic in the HPverse, both Paolini and Croggon introduced the concept in their series that magic had consequence and balance of energy had to be maintained (For every action there is an equal and opposite reaction). So Harry's recovery will be a slow one, as much to abide by the laws of the universe, as to prolong his suffering, because admit it, every one of you is reading this to see Harry suffer.

A lot of fanfics also use medical scans where all the injuries suddenly appear written out on parchment. I never understood where the parchment came from, or how injuries were translated into words. And since everyone can read what do you need a mediwitch for then? Poppy uses a lot of diagnostic spells. I am kind of assuming that her magic is like a extension of her, like a sixth sense, and after she casts something she just intrinsically knows the results. I also like how she has to actually interpret the results, like a real doctor.

Good news is this is the longest chapter yet. Enjoy.

Ch. 4 Hope Fails

Surveying the broken form Poppy was overwhelmed by the extent of the damage, but years of experience gave her training to fall back on. She preformed the triage spell that was second nature to her.

Temperature: 34.7°C

Pulse: 210 Quality: Poor

Blood Pressure: 64/ 41

Respiratory Rate: 0

Magical Core: Critical

The parameters confirmed her fears. Echoing her sentiment, alarms suddenly broke the silence of the ward; the constant wail of respiratory arrest drowning out the heart monitor.

Snape raised his head enough to see Poppy closing her eyes in concentration, as she recalled a spell that she had not been called upon to use since the last war. For the first time he fully appreciated her skill, as she incanted the complex Latin chant in time to the intricate wand work. A second later the effect of the spell became obvious as the chest began to rise and fall in a manner sickening to behold. As the ribcage animated by magic rose, drawing air into the lungs, a large depression formed in the chest wall, ballooning outward as the ribs fell. The paradoxical movement was so unnatural it set Snape's teeth on edge.

Opening her eyes, Poppy allowed herself a moment's relief as she noted the steady rise and fall of her patient's chest, although judging by his deformed rib cage it would do him little good. The flail chest was indicative of multiple broken ribs, and many more were apparent by their abnormal protrusion from the emaciated chest.

But Pomfrey would take her victories where she may, and for the moment the alarm was silenced. However, the oxygenation stats showed that the threat was not averted. Air was now reaching the lungs, but it was not being distributed to the body. The blood leaking from the boy's mouth gave her a good idea as to why. As a stop gap measure she cleared the boy's airway, removing more blood and sputum. Another simple spell had her patient breathing 60% pure oxygen, a rather futile gesture to support his failing lungs.

All the while the staccato of the heart monitor increased until the beeps combined into a continuous screech. Poppy was overwhelmed. It would be futile to attempt further stabilization of the heart until she had achieved adequate oxygenation. Every system was failing and she could only work one spell at a time. At St. Mungo's a whole team would be at work on such a case, but moving the patient was simply not an option. And with Dumbledore's absence opening the floo network to call for aid was also an impossibility.

The despairing nurse scanned the broken body as if searching for a sign. Her eyes alighted upon the gleam of metal around the boy's neck. Her lip curled in disgust, reviled by the implications of bondage and accompanying finger shaped bruises; she allowed herself a moment's distraction to send the offending chain clanking to the floor.

The cacophony of competing alarms drew her back to the present. The heart was pounding out of the chest, no longer able to compensate for the lack of blood volume, and oxygenation had fallen below the critical 80%. Poppy needed to see the extent of the internal damage. Another complex spell produced a 3D holographic image of the thorax, comparable to the combination of a muggle radiograph and CT image, hovering above the patient. Despite having had an idea of what to expect, she could not help but to stare in wonder at the damage. Rather than orderly white rows of ribs, overlapping shards were scattered throughout, like so many knife blades. The chest looked as if it had been crushed in a vice. Of course that was exactly what had happened. The already fractured ribs had been shoved into the organs they were intended to protect by the squeezing force of apparition.

"Poppy," she heard Severus' deep timbre call her. She spared him a glance. He stood tall, apparently recovered. Though sometimes accused of being overly controlling, she was only too glad for the help. She could not afford to interrupt her work with a task that Snape could manage.

"He needs a double blood replenisher, plasma substitute, rehydrant, pain reliever #3, beta blocker, anti-swelling, anti-shock, coagulant, vasoconstrictor, and blood thickener potions." Luckily, Snape had a good memory for lists, such as potions ingredients.

Poppy did not have to watch to see if she was obeyed. Severus and she had worked together not infrequently in the past. As the only other staff member with any medical knowledge, he was called upon to assist Poppy whenever she was overwhelmed, such as when an entire dorm came down with the flu or an ailing student required an around-the-clock vigil. And then there was his own extensive history under the mediwitch's ministrations.

Snape balanced his armload of potions on the table before kneeling stiffly at the bedside. Using one long potion stained finger he gently tipped back the boy's chin. He deftly plucked the anti-swelling potion from the collection, doubting he would get anything down the swollen throat without its aid. With one hand he pressed the cool glass vial against the parted lips, slowly letting the acrid liquid dribble down his tongue. The other hand massaged the throat, guiltily prodding the hideously bruised flesh, as he coaxed the unconscious child to swallow the first of many potions.

Poppy waited until Snape had administered the first few potions. She hoped they would stabilize the boy enough to withstand the next painful procedure. Using the holograph as her guide she manipulated the shattered ribs back to where the belonged. Three had punctured lung lobes on the right, one on the left. A temporary stabilization spell, which settled into the skin like a golden net, also secured the detached chest wall that had so disturbed Severus.

Unfortunately the bones were the easy part to fix. Another spell filtered out the bones from the hologram, revealing the full extent of the damage to the soft tissue underneath. The image lacked the solid black of healthy lung tissue, ranging from bright white, where the lungs had already been crushed under the weight of fluid, to the mottled and spidery white patterns of failing tissue. A large bubble at the top revealed leaked air trapped against the chest wall. The combined pressure of air and fluid was compressing the heart and lungs.

It would be a delicate balance between giving fluids to correct the hypovolemia induced tachycardia and not further drowning the boy's lungs. The edema already accumulated had to be removed; hopefully the potions would slow further leakage. She pressed the tip of her wand into the boy's side, releasing the trapped air and siphoning the bloody fluid into a conveniently placed bedpan on the floor. The act would provide temporary relief, giving the lungs room to expand.

The lengthy procedure gave Pomfrey's mind time to think and plan her next move. From experience, she knew that the pulmonary contusions would only get worse over the next 36 hours; the accumulation of blood and edema preventing the alveoli from exchanging essential oxygen with the blood. Thankfully, the blood replenisher was more efficient at carrying oxygen than hemoglobin, but starting in such bad shape she privately doubted that even magic would be able to sustain him.

The nurse was drawn once more from her thoughts by the wailing of an alarm. For a second Poppy's heart stopped just a thoroughly as her patient's.

His magic had failed.

A wizard's heart would not stop, unless by the Killing Curse, as long as there was an ounce of magic left in him.

Snape roused by the alarm sought out Pomfrey's face. The look of devastation that he found there was not reassuring. He watched her extended wand arm, its shaking barely noticeable. He blinked as a blinding jet of light shot forth striking the boy's chest with enough power to cause the spine to arch off the bed. Both witnesses waited with bated breath but the siren did not pause in its ear-splitting screeching.

Again she struck him with light, and again.

Finally she had to admit defeat. Tears streaming down her face she wrought her last option; a violent spell punctuated by jabbing motions that would force the heart to contract of its own accord. The spell was crude, an absolute last resort. It put enormous strain on the heart muscle and vessels. Eventually the spell would kill him, but technically her patient was already dead.