The first of two mini-chapters. :)

Mme Pomfrey bustled down the corridor, the hem of her coat askew and curls of hair that had escaped the confines of her bun bouncing disorderly around her ears. She pushed at them in irritation as she made her way towards Professor McGonagall, who was standing at the edge of the Quidditch field looking thoughtfully at a broom in her hands.

"Those twins are completely impossible!" she huffed, her chest heaving in exasperation. Professor McGonagall turned to regard her, a knowing light adding a sparkle to her normally stern eyes. It infuriated the mediwitch, who'd had enough teasing in the last twenty minutes to fill a lifetime. "I tell you Minerva, not a scratch on them yet they carried on like they were at death's door. They're only in their third year and they're already determined to cause mischief wherever they go. I dread to think what will happen once they learn OWL level spells — it will be chaos!"

Professor McGonagall's mouth twitched, as though hiding a smile. "Yes, well… there are worse things than causing a little mischief."

Seeing she wouldn't receive any sympathy from this quarter, Mme Pomfrey changed the subject. "Is that Potter's broom?"

"Yes."

"Well, is there something wrong with it?"

"I don't know. It certainly flew farther than it should have without a rider, even with this wind. In fact, it took so long to return, I thought my summoning charm had failed." She shook her head and then motioned back towards the castle. "I was about to ask Rolanda to look it over. Would you care to walk with me?"

Mme Pomfrey agreed. Together, they left the Quidditch pitch and began the long walk down the steep, rocky hillside towards the castle's main entrance. On the path below, a small group of students wove along the switchbacks, their shrieks and laughter as they galloped down the steepest sections ringing like bells across the highlands.

There would be no galloping for either of the women, of that they were certain. After sharing a look of fond exasperation at the boundless energy of youth, they turned onto the trail and began their descent.

Once they'd hit their stride and regained their breath, Professor McGonagall asked, "What did you think of Potter's reaction?"

Now it was Mme Pomfrey's turn to grimace. "To me, my spell or the suggestion he should take a potion?"

"All of them, I suppose."

Mme Pomfrey didn't answer immediately, and Professor McGonagall didn't press her. They lapsed into silence as they picked their way down a steep incline on the gravel track, neither of them wishing to fall. Mme Pomfrey held out her hand at the bottom to steady Professor McGonagall as the gravel slid and skittered beneath her boots, rolling away to become lost in the thick tufts of highland grass and squat thorn bushes blanketing the surrounding hill.

"He is an extremely cautious child," the mediwitch said, falling into step beside Professor McGonagall. "If he were older, I wouldn't have found it odd if he possessed a personal ward capable of nullifying magic cast upon him — but he's too young to have bought such a thing on his own, and too inexperienced to have created one. And why did it only block the healing charm?" She shook her head. "A true warding amulet wouldn't have distinguished between it and the diagnostic spell, which is also a charm."

"Could he have countered it subconsciously?"

She rubbed her chin. "An accidental shield charm? Perhaps. We may never know for sure."

"From your willingness to let him go, can I assume the phantom injuries you saw on Samhain have resolved?"

"Yes, thankfully, his results are back to normal."

"And you still don't know what caused them?"

"I wish I did," Mme Pomfrey said, her face pinched with confusion. "I've spent the past week looking through every medical text and case study I own. I even flooed some of my old contacts, both here and on the continent — but there's nothing! No one's heard of such a thing happening before. In fact, if the prefects had waited any longer before bringing him up to the hospital wing, I may not have seen it either."

Professor McGonagall shot her a glance. "You believe it resolved that quickly?"

"The issue with his results had resolved by the time I caught him at half-past nine Friday morning. If I'd monitored him through the night, I might have a better estimate, but I didn't think it was necessary," she admitted.

"It might have also prevented him from escaping," Professor McGonagall added with a quick, teasing smile.

"I wasn't expecting him to wake up immediately! Not after what the headmaster did."

The memory of Dumbledore pouring a truth serum down a child's throat to interrogate and then obliviate them was enough to sour the bright morning sunlight for both of them.

"Really, that man," Professor McGonagall fumed, her body taut and neck arched like the back of an angry cat. "He's always prided himself on being inscrutable, but there comes a point when no amount of hand waving can excuse your actions. If he knew something about Potter's condition, he should have made it clear from the outset, rather than risk the boy's health and sanity. Can you imagine what would have happened if Severus hadn't been carrying the antidote?" The lines of her face were etched with horror. "I'm not sure I ever told you, but I attended the trial of Bellatrix Lestrange after the war. She was one of You-Know-Who's most trusted followers, and the Wizengamot tried to pump her for information using veritaserum — but she refused. Her devotion to him was so great she resisted the potion's effect. The effort cost her what little sanity she had left." Professor McGonagall shook her head and continued quietly, "For a moment… Potter had the same look on his face. The same fear and desperation — like he was drowning within arm's reach of the surface, but didn't have the strength to pull himself up."

"I saw," Mme Pomfrey agreed solemnly. She had also known the risks.

"Do you think that's why he had such a vehement reaction to your suggestion he take a potion for his wounds?" Professor McGonagall asked, circling back around to her question from earlier. "Because some part of him remembers what happened that night?"

"The thought had crossed my mind, but it seems unlikely the headmaster would have failed to cast the memory charm. It's not as though it's an uncommon spell to use — what with all the muggles around nowadays."

Professor McGonagall wasn't willing to give the idea up. "Yet, it would explain much of his behaviour."

The ground had levelled out, and the castle's front doors were now just ahead. A handful of students were lounging on the stairs, enjoying the sunshine as they rehashed the game.

Mme Pomfrey dropped her voice so they wouldn't be overheard. "Whether he remembers or not, I fear it will take a great deal of time and effort to win his trust."

"What do you suggest?"

"Slowly, with little steps," she said as they ascended the stairs and passed between the tall wooden doors into the school.