Chapter 24

"I feel fine, really. I don't see why I need to go."

"This is becoming tiresome, young man. I've told you to go get a full physical and you will get one. If I hear one more word about it, you will spend the afternoon scrubbing cauldrons. Is that understood?" Snape said.

"Yes, Sir."

As much as he wanted to avoid the visit to the infirmary, Harry knew that continuing to argue about it with Snape was pointless. The man was already getting annoyed, and it would only end badly. Harry had somehow managed to avoid getting in trouble for a while and he wanted to keep it that way.

So Harry walked to the infirmary feeling as if he was going to meet his doom. He knew he was being dramatic, but he didn't care. He didn't want to go. He didn't want to have a full physical. Some things were just private.

There was only so much foot-dragging he could do, so Harry did eventually get to the infirmary. There was no one there, so he almost turned around and left. He knew that wouldn't work, though. Snape would just send him right back. So he stood and waited.

"There you are, Mr. Potter. What are you doing standing there?"

"Hello, Madame Pomfrey," Harry said resignedly. "Snape sent me."

"I know that, silly boy," Madame Pomfrey said with a tut. "Why didn't you ring the bell?"

Since he'd never been in the infirmary when it was this empty, Harry hadn't even known there was a bell or where it was. He looked around and, still not seeing a bell, just shrugged. He looked back at her, aware he was being less than polite.

"Well, that's alright then," she said, walking over to one of the beds. "Put these on." She handed him a folded white cloth." We'll get started."

Harry stared at the cloth in dismay. He did not want to put on any kind of wizard medical gown. Knowing his luck it would be some kind of old-fashioned robe. Usually when he was here, he wore pajamas. He hesitated, but she was already gone.

With a grimace, Harry went behind the screen and changed into the gown. Fortunately, it was more of a nightshirt. It was almost as bad as the Muggle hospital gowns he'd seen on the tele that didn't fully close in the back, but not quite. Harry had never been to a doctor or in a hospital, so he wouldn't know.

"Mr. Potter, are you ready?"

"Yes, Ma'am."

She was standing beside one of the beds when he came out, so Harry walked over to it and sat down. In her hand was a wooden clipboard with some parchment on it. It did not look very thick. Harry couldn't see it from where he was sitting.

"Well, now, Mr. Potter," she said. "I guess I should say congratulations on the adoption."

"Sure," Harry said. "Thanks."

He felt a little awkward. He realized that once school started, everyone was going to find out. That was going to be very weird. He had been trying not to spend much time thinking about it over the summer, but now that he was at Hogwarts, it was hard to avoid facing it. The Head of Slytherin was his rumor mill was going to implode from the sheer weight of it.

"Now, when Professor Snape as your guardian, asked for your records, I pulled your file for him," Madame Pomfrey said. "He was most displeased at what was missing. I explained to him that a student at Hogwarts is not given a physical in first year, or at any other time, without a guardian's permission. Your guardians never gave permission. In fact," Madame Pomfrey pursed her lips in displeasure, "your previous guardians have never responded to any correspondence on your injuries."

Harry put his head down and traced the hem of his gown with his fingertips. He was unsure what he was supposed to say to this news. It was hardly unexpected. He hadn't know that most Hogwarts students got physicals in their first year. He had been too busy trying not to get lost and figuring out which end of the wand was up to notice, probably. But it came as no surprise at all that the Dursleys never answered her when she told them he'd gotten hurt. If they had, she would have been more displeased.

"Too bad he's not dead" would not have been the response she would have wanted.

"Mr. Potter?"

Apparently he had been silent too long.

"Yes, Ma'am," Harry said, because he had to say something. "They don't like magic much."

"And they don't like me" was the part he left unsaid.

"I see," she said, in a tone that indicated she understood both what he said and what he did not. "Professor Snape suspected that some of your medical needs might have been unmet in the past given … well, he suspected it. So he attempted to get your Muggle medical records."

Harry said nothing.

"Mr. Potter, were you ever inoculated with Muggle vaccines for school?" she asked.

This seemed a strange question, and Harry was not expecting it. He looked up at her. He couldn't remember ever having been asked about inoculations at his Muggle primary school. The school was not a pleasant memory.

"I do not know, Madame Pomfrey," Harry said.

"Hmff," she said. "We looked up your school records when we were unable to find any Muggle medical files. Do you remember ever having attended any physicians? An optometrist perhaps?"

"No."

"I see."

"Is that bad?"

"It's not bad, necessary," she said slowly. "When you were younger, your magic protected you. We might be able to do something about your eyes. Your father had a genetic defect I was never able to fix. It drove me mad. It happens sometimes in pureblood families. It's possible that you inherited it, although it is rare."

"My eyes?" Harry said. "You can fix them?"

Somehow that was the only thing out of all of what she had just said that had stayed with him. He hated having glasses. He had noticed that almost no one had them at Hogwarts, and it was just another thing that made him vulnerable.

"Possibly, Mr. Potter," she said with a small smile. "It may be too late. However, we can most certainly fix your prescription."

"Why haven't you done it before?" he demanded.

She gave him a stern look. He knew he was being rude. Harry looked down at his hands.

"I know, the permission slip," Harry sighed.

"Hogwarts does not need permission to treat emergency injuries, Mr. Potter," Madame Pomfrey said stiffly.

"Right," Harry said, trying to keep his voice steady.

It was just another reason to be angry. The Dursleys were rubbish guardians, but they weren't the only ones who were at fault here. Dumbledore had dumped him there without checking on him once, and then had only intervened when it suited him.

"I wonder if they knew," Harry said, mostly to himself.

"Knew what, Mr. Potter?"

"Never mind," Harry said. "It doesn't matter. The Dursleys were probably just hoping I would die. Joke's on them. I lived because my magic protected me."

Madame Pomfrey had a strange, pained expression on her face, but it passed and she continued. "Well, there is no sense at your age to give you the Muggle vaccinations. Your magic is too advanced and it might interfere. We will give you the vaccinations you would have had in your First Year or when you were a child if you were Wizard-Raised. It's a wonder you haven't caught Dragon Pox by now. You're terribly lucky."

Harry just nodded. He didn't want to comment on any of those facts. It was better to just be numb right now.

"Very well," she said, business-like again, "Severus wants a complete work-up. Most of this can be done with my running my wand over you. You will only feel a tingle. The parchment will then list injuries, ailments, and conditions, working from the present day backward to birth. Are you ready?"

Harry nodded.

"I will demonstrate by showing you the first few," she said. "Lie back."

She gestured, and Harry saw a pillow was ready on the bed, which otherwise had just a white sheet. He was nervous, but he was not sure why he was. He followed her directions.

After about a minute, she stopped, and showed him the parchment.

"See there, Mr. Potter. I went back three months. You have had a … difficult three months," she said, her voice shaky.

"Yes, Ma'am," he said. "It's a good thing you only did three months. I think you are going to need a lot of parchment."

She looked at him sadly. "This is no joking matter, Young Man," she chided gently. "Though I suppose for the initial test to show you, it would have been more politic to make sure I did not include June."

"Yes, Ma'am."

"Did you receive treatment for these?" she asked. "For the cruciatus and the Dementor attack?"

"Snape did, but he said I should have received treatment sooner. For cruciatus I mean. I got chocolate for the Dementor. And he made me talk to … someone," Harry said.

"I see," Madame Pomfrey looked white.

"I need a minute, Dear Boy," she finally said. "Would you like some water?"

Since Harry wasn't sure what else to say, he nodded. She walked off slowly, leaving the parchment with him. He didn't want to look at it, so he put it on the bedside table. A moment later, a small glass of water appeared, misty with cold. Harry stared at it, and then drank it. He wasn't sure why she was shaken, but he was grateful that she had left him alone. He didn't like to relive the events of the summer.

Harry found himself staring into space for so long that he lost track of time. When the doors to the infirmary slammed open, he found himself jerked to alertness. Snape strolled in. Harry wasn't sure why his guardian was here but he immediately wondered what he had done wrong.

Snape walked over to him. "Are you alright?"

"Yes, Sir," Harry said, still confused. "What's wrong?"

The look was unreadable. "Madame Pomfrey needed assistance," he said evenly. "I think it would be best if you had a calming or sleeping draught for this procedure. It may take some time."

"What?" Harry asked. "Why? She said it wouldn't take long and it wouldn't hurt?"

"The analysis doesn't take long usually," Snape clarified. "Although it varies. However, treatment might be necessary. It is more comfortable for the patient and easier for the administrator if you have a calming draught or a sleeping draught." He gave Harry a pointed look. "I have given you a choice, although if you continue to behave this way, I will make it for you."

"Sorry," Harry said, laying back down quickly. "Please, can't I stay awake?"

He knew there was some pleading in his voice, and he didn't care if it was immature. There was something very disturbing about being asleep for this. Snape might have been the only one to ever take care of him, and he realized he should be grateful for that, but he was not used to any of it and it was all new and a little frightening.

"I did not say you had to be asleep," Snape said, this time a little less sternly. He reached into the pocket of his robes and brought out a vial, handing it to Harry.

"Calming draught?" Harry asked.

"Yes," Snape said simply. "I will be right here the entire time.

For some reason, that was reassuring. Harry nodded and drank the potion. He found himself immediately beginning to relax.

He watched as Madame Pomfrey came back out and talked to Snape for a few minutes. Harry couldn't hear the words, so they had muffled their speech. He decided he didn't care. He didn't care about anything. Maybe it was time to let an adult take charge of something for once.