Lily Potter sat in her physician's office, outwardly calm. Inwardly, she was seriously regretting not calling James back from work when she'd begun having problems. She'd told herself that she didn't think her current situation warranted taking him away from his all too important job at the Ministry. Actually, she'd been indulging in a bit of wishful thinking. Surely it couldn't be all that serious.
For the past month, she'd been experiencing intermittent cramping. No, dammit, she was in the doctor's office, she'd face the facts and call it by name: uterine contractions. As she was only in her fifth month of pregnancy, she was quite concerned. She'd initially tried to dismiss it as a normal part of pregnancy, trying to deny that it was anything to be worried about.
Ever since she'd become pregnant, every woman she met seemed to take great delight in passing on horrific tales of terrible pregnancies and awful childbirths. She'd handled it by ignoring them. She'd become quite expert at ignoring possible unpleasantness, including the possibility that there could be anything wrong with her own pregnancy. However, within the past week, the contractions had been increasing in both frequency, and severity. Today, ominously, she'd noticed a spot of bleeding.
She'd hurried to the doctor's office. After a brief wait in the examination room, she watched anxiously as the doctor passed his wand once, twice, thrice over her swollen abdomen. He'd frowned, then muttered a brief incantation. When she attempted to question him as to his findings, he'd held up a hand to stop the flow of questions. He'd asked her to have a seat in his office, where he would be joining her shortly. If it was good news, surely he would have said something right off? The longer she waited, the more anxious she became.
Dr Fairleigh finally joined her, after a wait which had seemed endless. His next words caused her simmering anxiety to explode into full-blown terror. "Is Mr. Potter here? It might be best if you have him join us."
She shook her head in mute denial, her throat too constricted to allow any words to form. Instead of taking the chair behind his desk, as he usually did, he took the chair next to hers, turning it so that they were face to face. She wanted to scream at the look of pity which covered his normally cheerful expression. He took one of her cold, fisted hands in his large ones. In a low, quiet voice, he pronounced her doom. "I'm sorry. The foetus has an irreparable heart defect. As is nature's way, your body is trying to reject the damaged foetus. All I've been able to do is to halt the threat of a premature birth. As long as the foetus is in the womb, it will survive, as your body supports it. However, once that connection has been severed, I'm afraid that your baby will die."
Lily's wave of despair began to transmute itself into a blazing anger, as Dr. Fairleigh spoke so calmly of death. By the third time he'd referred to her baby as "the foetus," she was ready to explode. She snatched her hand back out of his grip. "Damn you! He's not 'the foetus'! He's not an 'It'! He's my son. My son! His name is Harry! And, I refuse to accept that he's going to die. Just because you can't do anything, doesn't mean that someone else, somewhere, doesn't have the power to help him."
The doctor again apologized. "Mrs. Potter. I'm so sorry."
Lily stood over him, surprised that the heat of her fury didn't scorch him where he sat. Instead of uttering the curse which she wanted to fling at the man, she hissed out, "So am I."
She walked out of the doctor's office, and continued on down the road, walking off her anger. Once she'd calmed down, she was again able to think, and remember. She had a small talent at Divination. When she'd first discovered that she was pregnant, she'd had a vision. She'd seen her son at Hogwarts, following in his father's footsteps. Therefore, her denial of the doctor's pronouncement was not merely wishful thinking. She *knew* that he was wrong. The only thing she didn't know, was how to make things right.
When James came home that evening, asking about her day, she nearly told him what had happened. She stopped herself before doing so. She suddenly had the conviction that, if she stated the doctor's prediction in her own words, it would somehow come to pass. No; she would bear the burden alone, as she bore her son.
Over the following weeks, she consulted additional doctors. Each confirmed Dr. Fairleigh's initial diagnosis. Lily was undaunted. This merely told her what she already suspected: the answer to her problem did not lie in the field of medicine.
The answer was out there, somewhere. She merely needed to find it before time ran out for herself, and for Harry. For the first time ever, she found herself blessing the instructors at Hogwarts whose onerous assignments had caused her to spend so much of her limited free time at the library. She'd developed the skills of an expert researcher. Those skills were never more needed.
She quickly discarded the more public texts, as they offered no solutions to problems in utero. Her research took her to more obscure texts, and to mustier, less public areas of the library. Week after week passed, as her belly grew heavy with child. Never did her confidence that there was, indeed, a solution to be found, waver.
Finally, in her seventh month of pregnancy, she found it: the first vague hint. There it was, in Dr. Fixit's text on "Labouring for Just Rewards" - a cautionary note at the end of a chapter: "Although the birth defect should have proved to be a fatal one, the pregnancy was carried to term. The child thus borne appears to be a normal, healthy infant. However, as the mother's intervention had included the Dark Arts, it remains to be seen whether or not her actions will ultimately prove disastrous."
Harry kicked as she read the words, a silent reminder that time was growing short. She rubbed a hand along her belly, her voice a loving croon as she spoke to her unborn son. "There, there, little one, I know. It's all right. Mummy will take good care of you." Her statement a solemn vow, she swore, "I promise." If her answer lie within the Dark Arts, so be it.