These characters belong to J.K. Rowling. I appreciate the opportunity to borrow them from time to time. My deepest thanks to the very generous and gracious MMADfan and Squibstress for their inspiration, advice, patience and time.
In this semi-AU, Professor Merrythought is, at this time, the Charms instructor.
Chapter 9: Madam McGonagall
Madam McGonagall rushed out from the Floo grate in the Hospital Wing like a gale wind, passing her anxious daughter, and hurried over to where Albus Dumbledore was being settled on a hospital bed. She was a short, slightly plump woman with strawberry-blonde hair streaked with silver. Despite her having been awoken from slumber, her hair was neatly coiffed atop her head and her Healer's apron starched, lying perfectly crisp over her long, navy-blue robes. She took no time for discussion, flicking her wand over the prone Transfiguration professor, drawing up various charts mid-air. Archaic runic symbols flowed like transparent scrolls as she looked through them quickly, assessing the situation.
"Well, this doesn't bode well, Albus. Playing with dragons again, I see? Was your sixth-year mishap with that Chinese Fireball not dangerous enough for you?" The Healer cast an accusatory look at the hapless Dumbledore, who groaned.
"Dragons?" Headmaster Dippet questioned, looking down at Albus, then back toward the Healer. Merrythought cast a concerned look to the Headmaster.
"Mmm, a Peruvian Vipertooth, if I'm not mistaken," Madam McGonagall explained. "Albus, I need to know exactly what happened, what you've done since you were bitten, and the amount of time that has elapsed between the bite and now." The demanding nature of her voice had everyone, save for the injured, standing at attention.
"Ministry business, madam, I can't—" Albus began and was cut off.
She shook her head in aggravation, barking at him.
"I don't need to know the details, just what happened to you after the bite. How long has it been since?" She was studying a chart on her left that hung between herself and Headmaster Dippet.
"An hour, perhaps … an hour and fifteen minutes," he answered quietly, quickly adding, "But I did take a potion."
"How long after the bite and what color was the potion? Did you get a look at the label?"
Albus searched his memory.
"I believe it was light blue … and as for the time … I took it twenty minutes or so after the bite."
"Tch! Albus Dumbledore, you know as well as I that you have been grossly negligent," she scolded and turned to her daughter behind her. "Minerva, get some saline, iodine, and gauze and drain that shoulder wound," she ordered, then turned to Madam Alumno. "He's been bitten twice, once on the left shoulder as well as the left leg, and both his tunic and trousers must be removed. I also need him on a saline drip immediately."
Minerva rushed over to the first-aid cabinet, gathered the items onto a rolling tray, and began to fill a few large syringes with saline.
The Headmaster and the Charms professor stood back as a flurry of activity erupted around the injured professor, both feeling quite helpless. Madam Alumno deftly sliced through Albus' trousers, up one leg and down the other, revealing a very ugly wound just below his left knee. She then Summoned a blanket and draped it over his torso and right leg to afford him some modesty when she Vanished his trousers to the hospital laundry bin. She then cut off his tunic and added that to the heap of his destroyed clothing and hurried over to a far cabinet to ready the drip.
"Madam Mc—" Armando started, but Healer McGonagall held up her hand to silence him, still studying her floating charts. The Headmaster nodded and closed his mouth, standing quietly as the others worked.
Twenty-five minutes later, Albus lay under a myriad of charts and equipment, hooked up to several apparatuses. Madam McGonagall finally crossed the room to address the Headmaster and Professor Merrythought, and the news was not favorable.
"I will do everything in my power to see that your professor is restored, but I must warn you, significant necrotic damage was already done to both his shoulder and his leg before he ever got back to Hogwarts. Not only that, but his kidneys are shutting down due to the toxic strain of the venom, and his heart is unstable," Healer McGonagall explained. Professor Merrythought's hand flew to her mouth, her eyes wide. The Headmaster paled significantly.
"Will he live?" Dippet asked.
"I think so, Headmaster, though I can't promise his systems will survive the ordeal without damage, nor his limbs."
Both professors gasped.
"Dragon bites are no trifling matter, and Peruvians are the worst of the lot. Their venom is an ugly combination of hemotoxic and neurotoxic venom. Sepsis is at work here, and I am not sure if we can stem it in time before more damage is done. And I have no idea what effect the venom will have on his nervous system, as its too soon to tell."
Dippet and Merrythought looked at each other with both worry and confusion.
"Perhaps you could put that in layman's terms, Madam McGonagall?" Dippet asked. McGonagall took a deep breath and rested a small hand on the Headmaster's arm, her eyes full of compassion.
"The poison is rotting him from the inside out, Headmaster. Even if I can save his life, I am unsure I can save both his arm and his leg. His heart and kidneys are working overtime to shed the venom from the body, straining both organs. His nervous system – his brain, spinal cord, and nerves – won't show their damage until we are about eight to twelve hours out from the bite."
Merrythought teared up at this, and the Healer added, "My son Marcus just started an internship with Britian's most proficient venomologist … I will be bringing him here later to help, unless we can get Albus to St. Mungo's. I assure you, we will do everything we can."
"May I speak with him?" the Headmaster inquired.
"Of course, though his speech may be slurred due to the heavy sedation we have placed him under. I strongly urge you to convince him to accept hospital care," McGonagall answered, and the look that Dippet gave her said that was his intent, to get Albus to St. Mungo's.
Dumbledore rolled his head over to focus on the Headmaster's face as Dippet bent down over the prone professor.
"I'm sorry to bring all this trouble, Armando—" Albus started, but was cut off as Armando grasped Albus' right arm.
"Albus, please reconsider going to St. Mungo's. You're in a dire situation, and the Healer has explained that you may suffer permanent damage to your organs and may well lose a limb or two." Armando's entire face gave the impression of a street beggar, and Albus waved him to move closer, so he could whisper in his ear.
After a few moments of Albus' whispers, Dippet returned to the small group gathered to relay his response. Minerva stood rigid, focusing all her attention on the Headmaster, hoping beyond hope that her professor finally understood the gravity of the situation and would heed her mother's diagnosis and go to a proper hospital.
Dippet sighed and shook his head.
"I'm afraid I have to agree with Albus. He can't go to hospital. This has to do with a Muggle situation in Poland." He paused, rubbing his forehead. "Madam McGonagall, we will pay you whatever you require if you would do your best for our Transfiguration professor."
Armando looked fondly at his young student, resting a hand on her upper arm and giving it a little squeeze.
"It's not every day that I appreciate a student speaking out of turn or going against my wishes. Well done, Miss McGonagall. You very well may have saved the life of your Head of House. I can't thank you" – he glanced at Madam McGonagall – "and your mother enough for your services. Fifty points to Gryffindor for your insight."
Minerva didn't know what to say, where to look, or what to do, so she simply stared at the floor, unable to return the Headmaster's gaze.
"Thank you, Headmaster."
"Minerva is a sharp lass. I'd have her hide if I got wind of her not stepping in when she should. ‛Tis no shame stepping on toes if a life hangs in the balance," Madam McGonagall replied, glancing at the clock on the wall before returning her attention to the Headmaster.
"The next few hours will be crucial. We will need to monitor how far and how fast the swelling develops as the antivenom works, if we aren't too late already. Sadly, he took only half a dose of atntivenom for a Welsh Green bite, which likely won't do any good whatsoever, and since we are only getting the correct dose of potion in him nearly an hour after the bite, well … I can't say what the prognosis will be, but he must be monitored over the next twenty-four to thirty-six hours as the venom runs its course. I can take tonight, but I must leave by six this morning. I may be able to reschedule some of my appointments tomorrow, but in the meantime, your Mediwitch—"
Here, Madam Alumno spoke up in her broken English.
"No no, the kitchen elves have elf-pox. I needing to take them to quarantine. They needing care for five or six days."
Dippet rounded on the Mediwitch in shock, and, in an apologetic display, the Mediwitch threw her hands up in the air.
"I was coming to telling you when Galatea calling me to Dumbledore's rooms. No no, all house-elves will being bad sick if I not get them quarantine."
Dippet sighed and nodded, resigning himself to the situation.
"Headmaster, my daughter is perfectly capable to help in this situation, and I am fairly sure my son can come for a few days. He is an intern at St. Mungo's, and I do have some sway with the hospital in such matters. If you can, I'd prefer you leave your hospital Floo open for convenience."
"Of course, madam. Ah … is there anything we need to—" Dippet looked around the sparse Hospital Wing.
"No … I have most of the materials we will need between my private office and our apothecary. Mathew, my oldest, may also be able to assist as he is more knowledgeable with potions than I am. If you don't mind my family and I tending to our professor here, I believe we can do this."
Merrythought looked over at the Headmaster, nodding to him, then back to the Healer.
"Madam McGonagall, I believe Hogwarts is in your debt." Then she turned to Minerva. "Thank you, Miss McGonagall, for contacting your mother. I will be giving you use of my personal house-elf, Gamby. If there is anything she can do, just call her. I must warn you, however, she faints at the sight of blood."
