AN: Now that I've read OOTP, it's painfully clear that my St. Mungo's is really sucky next to Rowling's. Oh well, did the best I could. If I worked on this another year I could put in all those quirky background details that make her work so tasty. But who has time? Still I did have fun with this chapter. Actually, if this is a crossover, it's a 12-step crossover.
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Chapter 13. Mischief at Mungo's
The next morning at breakfast Ron whispered to Harry, "We have to find out more about Lucius Malfoy. He's somewhere near the bottom of all this."
"Well, Ron, there's his son Draco sitting right over there," said Harry, indicating the Slytherin table, "next to Ivy. Why don't you go over there, take him by the arm, and tell her you need to borrow him for a while?"
"Touché," groused Ron. "Actually, I have an idea. Let's all meet in the Secret Room after lunch."
* * * * * * * *
When the five of them had assembled in Secret Room Number Eight and sat down around the table, Ron announced, "I think we should sneak into Lucius Malfoy's office at Mungo's and see what we can find out."
"How do you know he has one there?" Harry asked.
"Floor plan of the hospital for patients and their families," Hermione said, holding one up. "We did a little research when we were there last time."
"Just in case," said Ivy. "You never know when it will come in handy."
"It doesn't show who works in each office," Hermione went on, "unless you perform a Revealing Spell, which I did."
"It doesn't work like the Marauder's Map, does it?" Harry asked.
"No such luck," said Ron. "But it shows us exactly where Lucius Malfoy's office is. We just have to make sure he's not there when we are."
"We should go in secret," added Ivy. "It'll be better if no one knows we're at the hospital at all, or we could be in serious trouble. Maybe we could use Harry's Invisibility Cloak."
Harry didn't bother to ask her how she knew he had an Invisibility Cloak. He just said, "All five of us? Even three is a tight squeeze."
"I won't need it myself," said Ivy, "So that leaves four."
"Some of us can put on staff uniforms and pretend we're nurses and doctors and orderlies and things," said Ron.
"You just want an excuse to sneak around in disguise," Hermione snubbed him.
"Why not?" said Ivy. "Hermione, you and I could be candy stripers." Ron burst into laughter at the thought, and Ivy added, "You can laugh now, Ron, but you'll have to keep a lid on it while we're there."
"Do all of us really need to go?" Hermione asked. "I know a girl here who actually does volunteer at Mungo's. I might be able to get some tips from her. So I'll need to be there. Neville is the most familiar with the hospital, so he'd better come."
"I've been there lots of times. I know where at least two of the supply closets are," said Neville. "I think. As long as I don't get lost."
"Harry has to go, because he knows best what's going on with Neville's Dad," Ron picked up the thread, "and I get to go because it was my idea. It would be a shame to leave Ivy behind, because she's so good at sneaking around; and besides, she hangs around with Lucius Malfoy's son. That makes all of us."
"We still haven't decided how we're going to get there," Hermione reminded them. "Broomsticks aren't secret enough.
"I'm not going to go by Floo powder wearing my Invisibility Cloak," Harry warned. "I don't want it to catch fire."
"We should Apparate," said Ron. "From outside the Hogwarts grounds," he added hastily, forestalling Hermione's interruption.
"I don't know how," Neville admitted.
"None of us does really," Ivy backed him up. "We could really use a Portkey."
"It takes time to make one of those," said Hermione.
"Wait," said Neville, "I think I've got it."
"Spit it out, man," Ron encouraged him.
"There's a tea shop right across from the hospital. It has a fireplace and I think it's hooked up to the Floo network. I know it closes early, because one day Gran and I wanted to have a bite there after our visit, and it was too late; the door was locked and they weren't taking customers."
"So we could go there by Floo powder and walk across to Mungo's," continued Hermione, "Harry could go ahead under the cloak and tell us when the coast is clear."
"We should go after dinner," added Neville. "A lot of volunteers are working then. And Mr. Malfoy will probably have gone home for the day."
"We hope," said Ron. "Are we all free tonight? Let's meet here as soon as we've eaten."
"Come on," urged Hermione. "We don't want to be late for Defense Against the Dark Arts."
But Harry, hurrying to class with the others, was waylaid before he could get there. Colin Creevey, a fourth-year Gryffindor with an unfortunate habit of snapping photos of Harry without asking, called from behind him, "Wait up, Harry! I have something to tell you."
"Make it quick," said Harry shortly. "I'm running late as it is."
Colin slipped a note into his hand. "Professor McGonagall wants to see you after your last class today. Says it's important."
"Thanks, Colin," said Harry automatically, opening the note. He recognized the Transfiguration teacher's handwriting. His heart sank as he realized that she had probably got wind of something about his wand, which was still supposed to be missing. He ran to catch up with Hermione, who was just walking into Moody's class, passed the note to her, tapped the front of his robe where he kept his wand, and mouthed Ivy. Hermione read the note and understanding dawned in her eyes. When Draco Malfoy learned the truth about Harry's wand, he was likely to make things difficult for Ivy. "I'll warn her if I can," Hermione whispered, handing the note back.
"If Mr. Potter and Miss Granger will finish their private conversation," Professor Moody announced, "we can begin." Harry and Hermione both sat down hastily and looked attentive, but Harry, at least, found it difficult to concentrate. Next to him, Ron raised his eyebrows, wondering what was up, and Harry slid the note to him under cover of the desk. Ron flashed him a glance of concern, but didn't dare say anything.
"Would you like to share that note with the rest of the class, Potter?" Moody asked ominously.
Harry had forgotten to make allowances for Moody's magic eye. He shrugged and said, "Certainly, Professor Moody." He held up the note and read, "'Mr. H. Potter: Please see me in my office after classes today. Prof. M. McGonagall.'"
"Thank you, Potter," said Moody. He could see through the note and knew that Harry had read exactly what it said, and fortunately decided not to take any points from Gryffindor.
When Harry arrived at Professor McGonagall's office later that afternoon, Draco Malfoy was already there, trying not to look uneasy. Harry knew the game was up. After class, Ron had advised him, "Pretend you still haven't found it," but Harry was sure that would only make things worse.
Professor McGonagall stood behind her desk, looking even sterner than usual. "Potter, Malfoy, I have called the two of you here because something extremely disturbing has come to my attention. Is it true, as I have heard, that you, Mr. Malfoy, have deliberately broken Mr. Potter's wand?"
Neither Harry nor Draco said a word. Draco's face tightened and his eyes went blank.
"I asked you a question, Mr. Malfoy," snapped Professor McGonagall. "You will be so good as to answer me."
Malfoy took refuge in another question. "What makes you think I would do a thing like that, Professor?" His tone conveyed injured innocence, though not very convincingly. "Anyone trying to get me in trouble should remember what might happen," he added quietly, glaring at Harry.
But the Deputy Headmistress refused to be deflected. "That's not an answer, Malfoy. I must remind you that this could have extremely serious consequences."
Harry readily admitted to himself that he was enjoying Malfoy's dilemma. Not knowing the whole truth, his Slytherin classmate would eventually have to fib, come clean, or hedge by saying it was an accident or not his own idea. But any degree of honesty on Malfoy's part posed a risk to Ivy that Harry didn't want to take, and Malfoy's silence was growing guiltier by the second. The prospect of pitting his own word against Harry's must have made him hesitate to lie outright.
"Actually, Professor," said Harry, drawing two wands from his robes, "I got my wand back a couple of days ago, and forgot to tell you. And thanks for the spare; I won't need it anymore." He laid the spare wand on the teacher's desk and held up his own.
Malfoy's look of wide-eyed astonishment (which Harry also enjoyed immensely) was not lost on Professor McGonagall, although he instantly tried to control it. She looked from one student to the other with her lips pressed together. She examined Harry's wand carefully; Harry knew that Malfoy wanted to do the same but didn't dare be obvious about it.
"And how did you get it back, Potter?" McGonagall asked.
Harry paused. "Neville Longbottom gave it to me," he said with literal truth.
This surprised her. "And how did Mr. Longbottom come to have it? Did he find it?"
"He, er, didn't say, Professor," answered Harry, still avoiding a direct falsehood.
"Your wand appears unbroken, Potter," was McGonagall's assessment, but it sounded like a question.
"Yes, Professor."
"Very well," said Professor McGonagall, looking anything but satisfied. "Malfoy, you may be excused, but don't assume that I'm finished with you. I may wish to see you again later. Potter, I'd like to have a private word with you."
Malfoy left, covering his confusion with a swagger.
Professor McGonagall gave Harry a speculative look. "There's something you're not telling me, Potter," she stated.
"There usually is, Professor," Harry agreed.
"Indeed," she replied, with her first hint of a smile. Harry relaxed a little. "And something you're not telling Mr. Malfoy, either, if I don't miss my guess. I think you may be covering for another student," she went on. "Perhaps I should speak to Mr. Longbottom."
Harry privately didn't think that was such a bad idea. McGonagall was strict, but not unfairly so, and after all, it was up to Neville to decide how much of his private family affairs he was willing to discuss. He would surely protect Ivy if he could. (Snape, too, was likely to keep his own counsel where Ivy was concerned.) But all Harry said was, "Yes, Professor."
She continued to hold his gaze. "Professor Dumbledore, too, has chosen not to confide in me about certain things. Things that I suspect have to do with you. But I suppose it's not your place to say anything about them to me."
Harry didn't know what to answer. Instead he said, "Professor, may I ask you a question about Animagi?"
"As long as you're not planning to become one, Potter," she said, much as Hagrid had.
"Of course not, Professor," Harry assured her. "I wrote a paper about them for Care of Magical Creatures and I'm interested in learning more. Are they … ticklish?"
"I beg your pardon?"
"Actually, what I want to know is … is there any sure way to tell an Animagus from an orinary animal, without turning it back into a person? The book I read says there isn't, but I thought you might know something more."
Professor McGonagall was apparently not above feeling flattered by Harry's confidence in her. "Well, Potter," she said, "There is, as the textbook no doubt told you, no single sign or method that works in all cases. But it is possible to take advantage of the basic difference between animals and Animagi, a difference which you cannot distinguish by simple observation of their bodily characteristics."
"It's their minds that are different," said Harry, beginning to see what she was driving at.
"Precisely, Potter. If you can trap an Animagus in hiding into demonstrating a degree of rationality that doesn't belong to its animal form, you can unmask its true nature."
"I see," said Harry. "Thank you, Professor. May I go now?"
"I suppose so, Potter," sighed Professor McGonagall. "Just don't get into any more trouble than necessary."
"Yes, Professor McGonagall," Harry replied.
* * * * * * * *
Secret Room Number Eight had a massive stone fireplace, and Hermione used her wand to light a small fire in it, enough for the Floo powder to work on. "I asked Serena Wellington about volunteering at Mungo's," she said, "and she told me that candy stripers there are absolutely not allowed to use magic. They're not even supposed to have their wands with them."
"Why not?" asked Ivy, her hand moving to the front of her robes.
"Some of the magic they do at Mungo's is very tricky," said Hermione, "and some of it's dangerous. They need to make sure that different spells don't accidentally collide with each other and cause unpredictable results."
"I'm not leaving my wand behind," said Ivy.
"Neither am I," said Hermione. "We just have to be careful to keep them well-hidden."
"Okay, Neville," said Ron, "what's the name of this tea shop we're going to?"
Neville looked dismayed. "I can't remember!" he exclaimed.
Hermione sighed. "Fortunately this floor plan also includes a map of the immediate neighborhood. This must be it, just across from the main entrance. Bungo's Tea Shop."
Neville's face cleared at once. "Of course that's it. How silly of me to forget."
"Now Harry, you have your Invisibility Cloak?" Ron wanted to know.
"Of course," said Harry. "Safely stowed away. Let's go."
Hermione had brought the Floo powder, and Harry, since he had the cloak, went first. He took a pinch of powder from the bag, threw it into the flames, stepped into them boldly, and announced, "Bungo's Tea Shop!" As soon as he had arrived and stepped out of the fireplace, he took out the cloak, looked around quickly, and pulled it around his shoulders.
Bungo's was a small establishment with just a few round wooden tables and chairs. It was difficult to make out more, because the only light came in through the windows from the street lanterns outside. The room appeared to be empty. Ron arrived next, and Harry shushed him, but said, "I don't think there's anyone here." Ivy, Neville, and Hermione soon appeared, and they all sidled over to the front door as quietly as possible. Hermione found and drew the bolt, and just as she was lifting the latch, a voice from the back of the room said, "Who's there?"
"Nobody," Ron tossed back hastily, and they scuttled out the door.
Harry looked both ways. "This way," he said, leading the way toward a clump of shrubbery at the side of the pavement. "Hide," he whispered, shoving his friends into concealment with invisible hands.
"Ow," muttered Neville as twigs snapped and leaves rustled.
"Ron, you moron, why did you say, 'Nobody'?" hissed Hermione.
"Guess I panicked," he admitted.
Harry watched the door of Bungo's, and sure enough it opened and a bald-headed proprietor appeared, wearing an apron over his robes. He looked up and down the street and muttered, "Must be hearin' things. Thought I bolted the door, but could be I forgot."
The man disappeared inside, but Harry said, "Wait. Don't come out yet." He let two minutes go by, and said, "All right, I think it's safe now. But let's not cross the street right in front of his nose. Keep going this way."
Before long they had come to the main entrance of Mungo's Hospital.
"I've been in this way," said Neville. "It's still visiting hours, but we have to tell them who we're visiting."
"We do if they see us, anyway," said Ivy.
Standing just outside the covered entryway, Hermione lit her wand and consulted the floor plan. "It looks like there's a custodian's closet between the gentlemen's and ladies' toilets just a little way inside the door," she said. "We'll make for that first. Harry, go ahead and tell us when it's clear." Harry made sure he was covered and walked silently toward the double glass doors. His co-conspirators saw one of them open, and a beckoning hand appeared in the air.
"C'mon," said Ron in a low voice, and they followed Harry through the door. "Turn right," whispered Hermione, and in another moment they had crowded into the custodian's closet, leaving the door open just a crack, and bumping into boxes of Mrs. Skower's All-Purpose Magical Mess Remover (Hospital Strength). Neville knocked a broom over and Ivy saved it from clattering on the floor. "Harry?"
"Right here," said a voice outside the closet. "Wait here until I scout out the next lap." In a few minutes they heard him again.
"There's a desk where we're supposed to check in," said Harry, "and a crowd of visitors has just come through. I'll distract the nurse, and you go through the next set of doors. Turn left into the first corridor, and the third door on the left is an empty examining room. I'll meet you there. Now follow me." They tiptoed out of the closet with Harry in the lead, leaving just one finger visible. "Stop," he whispered as they were about to round a corner. "Wait until you hear a crash."
Harry approached the reception counter, where a young nurse was filling out parchment forms with a quill chained to the desk. She had a stack of them next to her on a wooden tray, with a paperweight on the top. When she turned away from it to consult a file, Harry stealthily slid the tray forward so that the end of it stuck out over the edge of the counter, just inches away from her elbow. Harry backed away, and the nurse turned back and knocked the tray over, exactly according to plan. She exclaimed with annoyance and bent to pick up the forms, suspecting nothing out of the ordinary. Ron, Hermione, Neville, and Ivy came round the corner, past the counter, and through the doors while the nurse rustled parchment on the floor, none the wiser. An orderly caught sight of them on the other side, but he was much too busy with his laundry cart to pay them any particular attention. When at last Hermione locked the door to the examining room, they could breathe freely.
Ron hoisted himself onto the examining table and sat with his legs swinging, looking around. The first thing he noticed was a contraption above the table with a transparent panel in a frame, apparently made of glass, at the end of a jointed arm. The angle and location of the glass panel were adjustable. It was clearly a diagnostic tool. Ron situated the window in front of his abdomen and said, "Harry, what can you see through this thing?"
"I can see the front of your robes," said Harry.
"Wait, there's a dial on the side," said Hermione. She twisted it and said, "There's your shirt … now I can see your skin … muscles, ribs, stomach … I can see what you ate for dinner. Ron, that's disgusting. Don't you chew your food at all?"
Ron pushed the window away and said, "I was a little excited tonight."
"That panel must be occultoscopic crystal," said Ivy. "It's not hard to make, but it's strictly regulated because of privacy concerns."
"I see what you mean," said Ron. "Anyone caught carrying that stuff on their person should be immediately taken into custody."
Hermione was peering into some of the drawers in a white cabinet. "I see they have bottles of Clabbert pus here. I'll bet they use it to detect poisoning, the way we did in Defense Against the Dark Arts." Harry was comparing the eye chart on one wall with its reflection in the mirror on the opposite wall, and finding them totally different.
A knock on the door made them all freeze. "Is anyone in here?" asked a voice.
"We'll be out in half a moment," Ivy called back without missing a beat.
"No, it's quite all right. Take your time," the voice called back obligingly. "I'll use one of the other exam rooms."
They all looked at each other with beating hearts. "Either he's mistaken you for someone else," said Ron, "or he thinks someone's having a romantic moment in here and he doesn't want to interrupt."
"Thoughtful of him," said Ivy.
"Um, listen," Neville began diffidently, "maybe we should get back to what we're supposed to be doing here."
"You're right, Neville," said Harry at once.
"Although you can never tell when we might use this information," said Hermione, opening another drawer and finding a mass of leeches, for bloodletting purposes, no doubt.
"We need to get into our disguises," said Ron with relish. "Where do they keep the uniforms?"
"I can tell you that," said Neville. "There's a staff supply closet on the other side of the main corridor. I can show you where."
"Harry, do your stuff," said Ron. Harry pulled his cloak around him and disappeared from view. He opened the door and checked the corridor. "Clear," he said, and the rest of them followed him out. Neville led the way across the main corridor (fortunately they saw no one nearby) and down the opposite branch until they came to a door marked "Staff Attire: Employees Only."
"Well heck, I work here," said Harry. The door was unlocked and they all went in, but to Hermione's consternation she was unable to lock it from the inside.
"Probably so nobody will try to have a romantic moment in here," Ron speculated.
"Harry, you'd better stand outside and be our lookout," Hermione directed. "And we'd all better get ready to hide if someone comes in."
Ivy and Hermione lit their wands. The shelves were piled high with white robes, white aprons, white caps, surgical masks, green surgical robes, surgical gloves, blue robes for ancillary workers, and robes with pink and white stripes (fortunately the pink was a pale and unobtrusive tint) for the young female volunteers. The two girls shed their black Hogwarts robes and started donning their candy-striper garb. Hermione made a face as she put hers on. "No wand pockets in these," she said.
Ron stared at Ivy in disbelief. "Ivy," he said, "you didn't." Ivy had her three-headed, orange-and-black Runespoor wrapped snugly around her waist.
"Obviously I did," she returned coolly, fastening the front of her robe so that the snake could no longer be seen. "Salazara knows she has to behave perfectly when I take her anywhere with me, or she'll be discovered and we'll be separated. I read her a story before dinner, and I brought her because we might need her help."
Ron knew it was too late to argue the point. He regarded the stacks of clothing and decided, "I don't want to be an orderly after all. I think I'll be a medical student." He took a white robe and a white cap. "What about you, Neville?" he asked.
Neville looked around nervously. "I think I'd rather just stay under the cloak with Harry," he said. "If I have to be something I'll be a patient."
Ivy had wound her single black braid around her head (not unlike the snake) and the nurse's cap covered it easily, making her look surprisingly demure. Even though Hermione had tied her hair back, she stuffed it into her cap with some difficulty. She and Ivy looked at Ron speculatively. "You're tall enough, but you still look young for a med student," Ivy criticised. "I know just what you need." She pulled out her wand, pointed it at his face and said, "Barbados!" Ron promptly sprouted a bright-orange, neatly trimmed beard, which lent him an air of immense distinction … or maybe not. Hermione burst into uncontrollable giggles.
Ron put a hand to his face. "Wish I could see how it looks," he said. "It can't possibly be all that funny."
"Trust me, it is," Hermione assured him. "Look, I think we need name tags," she said, taking down a box of parchment rectangles and holders. "There's a quill and ink here so we can fill them out."
"Here, let me," said Ivy. She lettered the names "Iris" and "Hortense" on two tags and handed the second one to Hermione. "It's probably wiser not to use our real names."
"Good thinking," said Ron. Soon he sported a name tag that said "Percy."
The three in disguise emerged cautiously from the closet. They heard a snort of laughter from the air in front of them. "I would never have known you," Harry exclaimed. "Very professional. Where's Neville?"
"He'd rather be with you," said Ron. "You'd better go in and collect him."
While Harry was doing just that, an efficient-looking head nurse in a starched apron and cap emerged from a nearby door and strode along the corridor toward them. She immediately caught sight of Ivy and Hermione and divined their uncertainty.
"Do you young ladies know your assignments?" she asked.
"Yes," said Hermione. "No," said Ivy at the same moment.
Ron quietly melted away, back into the closet, but left the door slightly ajar.
"Well, I just finished mine," Hermione equivocated.
"Well then, you need another one, don't you? Now I want you girls to make up the two beds in Room 107," the woman told them. "The bedclothes are in the linen cupboard at the end of the hall. You do know the proper way to make beds, I hope?"
"Yes, Matron," said Ivy meekly, her eyes wide and guileless.
The woman frowned. "I don't think I recognize either of you. Are you new?"
"I—I'm sorry, Matron," Ivy gulped. "Hortense and I only just started here yesterday and we feel just a bit lost. But I do most dreadfully want to be a nurse one day. It's what I've always dreamed of. I know I have a great deal to learn, but I plan to work very very hard." In the closet, Ron was strangling with laughter and Harry had to pinch him hard to keep him from giving them away.
The matron's face softened. "That's all right, child. That's the kind of attitude we like to see. I'm sure you'll pick things up in a day or two, and then you'll feel right at home. Well then, off you go." She paused. "On second thought, girls, I think I'd like to see your bedmaking technique. A lot of girls who start here have never done it without magic. A well-made bed is the foundation of patient care."
"Oh, I do so agree with you," said Ivy earnestly, shooting a warning glance at Hermione, who looked frustrated. "Actually, I believe I'd feel better if you checked our work, Matron. I want to be sure we're doing it correctly. Let's go and get the sheets, Hortense."
Harry and Neville slipped out of the closet and watched as the two impostors walked briskly to the linen cupboard, hoping to shake their supervisor, but she followed them and called through the door, "Remember to bring two blankets for each bed—a lightweight and a heavy one." The two girls reappeared, each with a set of bed linens and two blankets, and carried them to Room 107. Harry, Neville, and Ron followed them through several turnings, getting more lost with each one, and when they got there Ron parked himself behind the open door in an empty room across the hall. (Room 108, it was.) Hermione started unfolding the sheets and said blankly, "But these sheets are all flat ones, Matron. Don't we want fitted sheets on the bottom?"
"Fitted sheets!" the head nurse exclaimed in shock. "I will thank you to remember that St. Mungo's has always used flat sheets. None of this newfangled Muggle elastic. We pride ourselves on the precision of our hospital corners."
"But …" began Hermione. Ivy elbowed her in the ribs and said, "Of course, Matron." She proceeded to spread a sheet on one of the beds. "Now, we tuck in the ends first, isn't that right, Matron? Hortense, you take the other end."
It took the girls four tries to get the corners on the bottom sheet square enough to suit the Matron. At this rate they would be at it the whole evening, and their instructress seemed to have all the time in the world. Even Ivy was finding it hard to contain her growing twitchiness. They exchanged desperate looks as they opened up the top sheet and spread a lightweight blanket on it under the Matron's eagle eye.
Ron decided to take matters into his own hands. He walked into Room 107, not quite out of breath, but as if he had been searching for several minutes. "Oh, there you are, Matron! Just the person we need. That nurse at the front desk has got the admission records muddled and I think she could use your help."
The Matron looked up and sighed. "Not again? I'd better straighten things out. You girls can carry on from here, can't you?"
"Of course, Matron," said Hermione staunchly. "We know just what to do, now you've showed us."
"Thanks ever so much," added Ivy.
"I'll keep an eye on the bedmaking, dear lady," said Ron, smiling at her like an old friend. "I have a few minutes to spare."
When the head nurse had blessed his heart and bustled off, Ivy said, "Ron, I didn't know you were that good. You could have got carried away and told her the hospital was burning down—but you were perfect. You didn't say a thing that wasn't true."
"It was the beard that did it." Ron stroked it thoughtfully. "Or maybe the name tag. Now if we're going to stay on her good side, we'd better finish with the beds."
Hermione pulled out her wand. "Well, I'm jolly well not going to do it by hand. We don't have time." At her magical bidding the sheets and blankets tucked themselves in and the pillows stuffed themselves in the cases. "There. Now let's find a place where we can plan the next step without being interrupted."
With Harry and Neville scouting ahead, they passed more rooms and found a door marked "Quiet Lounge," with a meeting schedule fastened to it. Harry opened it a crack and peered in. "Empty," he said, and they went in, Hermione locking the door after them. The room was carpeted, paneled, and furnished with armchairs, sofas, and paintings. All of them sat down for a breather, and Harry and Neville emerged from under the cloak.
Ron considered Ivy in her pastel pink-and-white robes. "Funny, I wouldn't have pegged you as the nursing type."
"Nursing? Eughh." Ivy shuddered. "I wouldn't dream of it."
"'Oh Matron, I /dew/ most /dreadfully/ want to be a nurse,'" Ron mimicked. "Laid it on a bit thick, didn't you, /Iris/?"
"But did you see the way she ate it right up, /Percy/?" Ivy countered.
"Too rich," said Harry.
"We'd better figure out where we are," Hermione said, unfolding the floor plan.
"Whatever you say, Hortense," Ron agreed.
"I've got it," she said, pointing to the map. "Here's Room 107 and here's where we are now. Malfoy's office is on the second floor at the back, a long way from here. We'd better take the stairs; the lift is too risky."
"Why hello, dears," said a sweet voice behind them. They turned to find a painting on the wall of a grey-haired woman with spectacles sitting on a sofa. She looked familiar, but Harry couldn't quite remember where he had seen her, until, "You're the one from the painting in Secret Room Number Eight!" exclaimed Hermione.
"Designated for advanced work in Dark Arts Defense Mentality. That's right, dear. I don't spend all my time at Hogwarts. I lead several support groups here at the hospital. In twenty minutes we're going to have a You-Know-Who survivors group. Would you like to join us? It might be just the ticket for you, dear," she said, looking pointedly at Harry's scar.
"Who, me?" asked Harry.
"Um, I think …" Neville began.
"Not," Ron finished.
The woman looked around the room. "I see you didn't bring the teacher who's in denial about his anger. A shame. This group might do him a world of good."
"I wouldn't bet on it," said Ron.
"How do you travel between here and Hogwarts?" Ivy asked.
"Easiest thing in the world, dear. I just go through that door," she pointed behind her to the right of the painting, "walk down the hall, and through the last door on the left, and I'm in my painting at Hogwarts. It's very convenient. My little clinic gives me access to a number of locations, including Hogsmeade and Diagon Alley. Why, I even started a Death Eaters Anonymous group in Knockturn Alley. It's very challenging work."
"I expect it would be," said Harry.
"Madam Nightingale is my name," she went on, "and if you ever need any counseling I hope you'll remember that I'm always available."
"Thanks," said Harry. "Maybe you could answer a question for me."
"Gladly, dear."
"I know St. Mungo's has been around for a long time. Why does it look so much like a Muggle hospital?"
"A modern Muggle hospital," Hermione added. "Except for the fitted sheets. I've been wondering the same thing myself."
"That's a very good question," said Madam Nightingale. "Well, as you probably know, back when St. Mungo's was founded, Muggle medicine was in a deplorable state. Very much hit or miss, and it often did more harm than good. And of course there was no anaesthesia. It's improved a great deal since then, of course, but mostly in the last century. A lot of patients and their families who come here come from a Muggle background, and they feel more secure when they see hospital surroundings like the ones they're used to expecting, instead of something that looks to them like the Dark Ages. It gives them confidence. So St. Mungo's has made a practice of updating its look every twenty years or so."
"Not like Hogwarts," said Hermione.
"No, but then old schools are often thought to be the best," replied Madam Nightingale. "Mind you, some traditionalists frown on all the modern trappings here."
"I think we just met one of them," said Ivy.
"Well, I think we'd better be going," said Ron, edging toward the door.
"Good-bye then, dears," she told them pleasantly. "And thank you for the apples. They were delicious, and I appreciated being thought of."
"The apples," Hermione repeated.
"The ones you left in the mirror."
"Oh yes, those apples," said Ivy. "We're glad you enjoyed them."
"The double-double was especially interesting," Madam Nightingale reflected. "Its flavour made me think of grilled sausages."
Closing the door to the Quiet Lounge, Hermione told Ivy in a low voice, "If anyone asks, we're on our way to make up the beds in Room 223. We'll wait till we get upstairs to pick up the linens."
Now that they knew what they were doing, Ron, Ivy, and Hermione exuded a sense of purpose that helped them blend into the traffic in the corridors. Doctors, nurses, students and aides nodded to them in a friendly way, but didn't stop them or ask any questions. Even the occasional passing centaur accepted their presence as a matter of course. (Hermione had studied a pamphlet on the recent addition of centaurs to the hospital staff as independent consultants, and she explained eagerly about the diplomatic challenges of bringing the centaurs on board, and their important contributions to the healing arts.) They saw a number of candy stripers replacing the candles in the wall brackets that lit the corridor. Harry and Neville stayed close behind their visible companions so as not to cause any collisions. In the empty stairwell (the lifts were vastly preferred) Hermione briefed the rest of them on the route they would take, including detours to pick up and drop off bedding.
Once Ivy and Hermione were carrying armfuls of sheets and blankets, their camouflage was complete. In fact, their faces were nearly hidden. The fact that room 223 was already occupied didn't throw them off stride. They simply found the nearest room with two unmade beds, which turned out to be room 228. The two girls put down their piles of linens, and Hermione said, "Harry, you and Neville go to Malfoy's office. You know how to get there from here. See if you can find out if anyone's in there, and tell us if there's anyone out in the corridor, or anything else we might need to know."
"Okay," said Harry. Suddenly things had grown a degree more serious, now that they were nearing their destination. He and Neville, still under the Invisibility Cloak, left room 228 and went in search of the offices at the back of the hospital. "I feel like I've drunk Panic Potion," whispered Neville beside him, trembling noticeably. "And I think I've forgotten something important, but I can't think what it is."
"Shhh," Harry whispered back. They had reached a corridor with deep carpeting, and the silence was unnerving. It appeared that most of the office staff here had gone home for the day, but Harry and Neville did notice a house-elf emptying wastebaskets. Some of the offices had evidently been left unlocked for that purpose.
They had passed more than half of the doors before they came to one marked "Lucius Malfoy: Advisory Board Member." Lucius Malfoy was the only Advisory Board Member who rated his own office; another four of them shared the next one over. Harry cautiously tried the door, but found it locked, as he had rather expected. He and Neville both put their ears to it, but heard nothing from the other side. "Let's go back," Harry breathed in Neville's ear.
Returning to room 228, they found that Ivy, Ron, and Hermione had been working off their nervous energy by making the beds, hospital corners and all, entirely without magic. "We're getting good at this," said Ron.
"You could be a candy striper too, Ron," Hermione suggested. "Except that the colour of your beard would fight with the robe."
"I'm crushed," sighed Ron.
"We found Mr. Malfoy's office," Harry reported, taking down his hood, "locked, and there doesn't seem to be anyone in it."
"It doesn't seem the sort of place where candy stripers would be assigned," said Neville, also emerging from the Invisibility Cloak.
"We saw a house-elf, though, but it would be hard to disguise ourselves as house-elves."
"House-elves aren't allowed in the parts of the hospital where patients are likely to see them," Hermione told them. "Like candy stripers not being allowed to have their wands. Too much magic around."
"I'll say," Harry agreed. He added, "There's a Gentlemen's just two doors down from Malfoy's office. We could make that our next base."
"I don't suppose it's out of order," said Hermione hopefully.
"No such luck," said Harry. "Someone could pop in on us at any moment. But most of the office people seem to have left for the day."
"We could put an 'out of order' sign on it," Ron proposed. "Then people might think it's like Moaning Myrtle's toilet at Hogwarts."
"Somehow I think that would have the wrong effect," said Harry. "Someone would come in to see what the matter was."
"We might as well stop jawing about it and go," said Ivy.
"Yes, let's get it over with," said Neville. He had started shivering again.
When they got to the office corridor, Harry and Neville found it empty, and the rest of them landed safely in the gentlemen's toilet. Fortunately it was equipped with a wheelchair/ centaur stall big enough to admit all five of them.
"I think we should take off our candy striper robes," said Ivy, beginning to divest herself of hers. "They won't do us any good here."
"You should leave them here, in the Gentlemen's," said Ron. "I'd like to see someone try to explain that. Maybe they'll think that someone was having a romantic—"
"Shut up, Ron," said Harry. He had caught sight of Salazara around Ivy's waist, but he merely raised an eyebrow or two and made no comment. Ivy raised hers back at him.
"We should take them back to Hogwarts with us," Hermione advised, folding up her hospital uniform and stowing it under her Hogwarts robe, which she had just put back on. "We might need them again later. We can return them when we're certain we're finished."
"Someone's coming," said Ivy suddenly. They all fell silent as the door to the Gentlemen's creaked open, hoping that no one would peek under their stall and notice five pairs of feet. Fortunately the anonymous visitor merely used the facilities and left, apparently without discovering their presence. After the door had creaked shut behind him and they dared to breathe again, Ivy said, "Now if there had been two of them, we might have overheard a fragment of conversation that told us something important about our mission."
"I reckon that wasn't in the script," said Ron, who had decided to stay in his medical garb. "Ivy, I think you and Hermione should take Harry's cloak and see if you can get into Ludicrous Malfoy's office—sorry, slip of the tongue. You two are the ones for this job."
"Yes," said Hermione with determination. "Come on, Ivy, let's go." She pulled Harry's cloak on over both of them and they disappeared from view. The door to the stall opened and shut, and then the door to the Gentlemen's. In a few minutes the girls were back.
"We got through the door with a simple unlocking spell," Hermione said, "but inside there's an outer office, for the secretary I suppose, so people won't just barge in on him without making an appointment first."
"I'm sure his time is far too valuable for that," said Harry grimly.
"We noticed a painting on the wall with a man in it," Ivy added, "but he was asleep in his armchair. Hermione put her candy-striper robe over the painting so he won't see anything even if he does wake up."
"Nothing but pink and white stripes, anyway," said Ron.
"It's dark in there, Ron," said Hermione. "And we're going to keep it that way."
"We couldn't open the door to his inner sanctum with the same unlocking spell," coninued Ivy, "so you might as well join us and help us figure it out."
"Right," said Harry. "Let's go."
*******************************
AN: At least 20 witnesses can vouch for the fact that I hit on the idea of painted people traveling between different buildings independently of KJRowling.
************************************
Chapter 13. Mischief at Mungo's
The next morning at breakfast Ron whispered to Harry, "We have to find out more about Lucius Malfoy. He's somewhere near the bottom of all this."
"Well, Ron, there's his son Draco sitting right over there," said Harry, indicating the Slytherin table, "next to Ivy. Why don't you go over there, take him by the arm, and tell her you need to borrow him for a while?"
"Touché," groused Ron. "Actually, I have an idea. Let's all meet in the Secret Room after lunch."
* * * * * * * *
When the five of them had assembled in Secret Room Number Eight and sat down around the table, Ron announced, "I think we should sneak into Lucius Malfoy's office at Mungo's and see what we can find out."
"How do you know he has one there?" Harry asked.
"Floor plan of the hospital for patients and their families," Hermione said, holding one up. "We did a little research when we were there last time."
"Just in case," said Ivy. "You never know when it will come in handy."
"It doesn't show who works in each office," Hermione went on, "unless you perform a Revealing Spell, which I did."
"It doesn't work like the Marauder's Map, does it?" Harry asked.
"No such luck," said Ron. "But it shows us exactly where Lucius Malfoy's office is. We just have to make sure he's not there when we are."
"We should go in secret," added Ivy. "It'll be better if no one knows we're at the hospital at all, or we could be in serious trouble. Maybe we could use Harry's Invisibility Cloak."
Harry didn't bother to ask her how she knew he had an Invisibility Cloak. He just said, "All five of us? Even three is a tight squeeze."
"I won't need it myself," said Ivy, "So that leaves four."
"Some of us can put on staff uniforms and pretend we're nurses and doctors and orderlies and things," said Ron.
"You just want an excuse to sneak around in disguise," Hermione snubbed him.
"Why not?" said Ivy. "Hermione, you and I could be candy stripers." Ron burst into laughter at the thought, and Ivy added, "You can laugh now, Ron, but you'll have to keep a lid on it while we're there."
"Do all of us really need to go?" Hermione asked. "I know a girl here who actually does volunteer at Mungo's. I might be able to get some tips from her. So I'll need to be there. Neville is the most familiar with the hospital, so he'd better come."
"I've been there lots of times. I know where at least two of the supply closets are," said Neville. "I think. As long as I don't get lost."
"Harry has to go, because he knows best what's going on with Neville's Dad," Ron picked up the thread, "and I get to go because it was my idea. It would be a shame to leave Ivy behind, because she's so good at sneaking around; and besides, she hangs around with Lucius Malfoy's son. That makes all of us."
"We still haven't decided how we're going to get there," Hermione reminded them. "Broomsticks aren't secret enough.
"I'm not going to go by Floo powder wearing my Invisibility Cloak," Harry warned. "I don't want it to catch fire."
"We should Apparate," said Ron. "From outside the Hogwarts grounds," he added hastily, forestalling Hermione's interruption.
"I don't know how," Neville admitted.
"None of us does really," Ivy backed him up. "We could really use a Portkey."
"It takes time to make one of those," said Hermione.
"Wait," said Neville, "I think I've got it."
"Spit it out, man," Ron encouraged him.
"There's a tea shop right across from the hospital. It has a fireplace and I think it's hooked up to the Floo network. I know it closes early, because one day Gran and I wanted to have a bite there after our visit, and it was too late; the door was locked and they weren't taking customers."
"So we could go there by Floo powder and walk across to Mungo's," continued Hermione, "Harry could go ahead under the cloak and tell us when the coast is clear."
"We should go after dinner," added Neville. "A lot of volunteers are working then. And Mr. Malfoy will probably have gone home for the day."
"We hope," said Ron. "Are we all free tonight? Let's meet here as soon as we've eaten."
"Come on," urged Hermione. "We don't want to be late for Defense Against the Dark Arts."
But Harry, hurrying to class with the others, was waylaid before he could get there. Colin Creevey, a fourth-year Gryffindor with an unfortunate habit of snapping photos of Harry without asking, called from behind him, "Wait up, Harry! I have something to tell you."
"Make it quick," said Harry shortly. "I'm running late as it is."
Colin slipped a note into his hand. "Professor McGonagall wants to see you after your last class today. Says it's important."
"Thanks, Colin," said Harry automatically, opening the note. He recognized the Transfiguration teacher's handwriting. His heart sank as he realized that she had probably got wind of something about his wand, which was still supposed to be missing. He ran to catch up with Hermione, who was just walking into Moody's class, passed the note to her, tapped the front of his robe where he kept his wand, and mouthed Ivy. Hermione read the note and understanding dawned in her eyes. When Draco Malfoy learned the truth about Harry's wand, he was likely to make things difficult for Ivy. "I'll warn her if I can," Hermione whispered, handing the note back.
"If Mr. Potter and Miss Granger will finish their private conversation," Professor Moody announced, "we can begin." Harry and Hermione both sat down hastily and looked attentive, but Harry, at least, found it difficult to concentrate. Next to him, Ron raised his eyebrows, wondering what was up, and Harry slid the note to him under cover of the desk. Ron flashed him a glance of concern, but didn't dare say anything.
"Would you like to share that note with the rest of the class, Potter?" Moody asked ominously.
Harry had forgotten to make allowances for Moody's magic eye. He shrugged and said, "Certainly, Professor Moody." He held up the note and read, "'Mr. H. Potter: Please see me in my office after classes today. Prof. M. McGonagall.'"
"Thank you, Potter," said Moody. He could see through the note and knew that Harry had read exactly what it said, and fortunately decided not to take any points from Gryffindor.
When Harry arrived at Professor McGonagall's office later that afternoon, Draco Malfoy was already there, trying not to look uneasy. Harry knew the game was up. After class, Ron had advised him, "Pretend you still haven't found it," but Harry was sure that would only make things worse.
Professor McGonagall stood behind her desk, looking even sterner than usual. "Potter, Malfoy, I have called the two of you here because something extremely disturbing has come to my attention. Is it true, as I have heard, that you, Mr. Malfoy, have deliberately broken Mr. Potter's wand?"
Neither Harry nor Draco said a word. Draco's face tightened and his eyes went blank.
"I asked you a question, Mr. Malfoy," snapped Professor McGonagall. "You will be so good as to answer me."
Malfoy took refuge in another question. "What makes you think I would do a thing like that, Professor?" His tone conveyed injured innocence, though not very convincingly. "Anyone trying to get me in trouble should remember what might happen," he added quietly, glaring at Harry.
But the Deputy Headmistress refused to be deflected. "That's not an answer, Malfoy. I must remind you that this could have extremely serious consequences."
Harry readily admitted to himself that he was enjoying Malfoy's dilemma. Not knowing the whole truth, his Slytherin classmate would eventually have to fib, come clean, or hedge by saying it was an accident or not his own idea. But any degree of honesty on Malfoy's part posed a risk to Ivy that Harry didn't want to take, and Malfoy's silence was growing guiltier by the second. The prospect of pitting his own word against Harry's must have made him hesitate to lie outright.
"Actually, Professor," said Harry, drawing two wands from his robes, "I got my wand back a couple of days ago, and forgot to tell you. And thanks for the spare; I won't need it anymore." He laid the spare wand on the teacher's desk and held up his own.
Malfoy's look of wide-eyed astonishment (which Harry also enjoyed immensely) was not lost on Professor McGonagall, although he instantly tried to control it. She looked from one student to the other with her lips pressed together. She examined Harry's wand carefully; Harry knew that Malfoy wanted to do the same but didn't dare be obvious about it.
"And how did you get it back, Potter?" McGonagall asked.
Harry paused. "Neville Longbottom gave it to me," he said with literal truth.
This surprised her. "And how did Mr. Longbottom come to have it? Did he find it?"
"He, er, didn't say, Professor," answered Harry, still avoiding a direct falsehood.
"Your wand appears unbroken, Potter," was McGonagall's assessment, but it sounded like a question.
"Yes, Professor."
"Very well," said Professor McGonagall, looking anything but satisfied. "Malfoy, you may be excused, but don't assume that I'm finished with you. I may wish to see you again later. Potter, I'd like to have a private word with you."
Malfoy left, covering his confusion with a swagger.
Professor McGonagall gave Harry a speculative look. "There's something you're not telling me, Potter," she stated.
"There usually is, Professor," Harry agreed.
"Indeed," she replied, with her first hint of a smile. Harry relaxed a little. "And something you're not telling Mr. Malfoy, either, if I don't miss my guess. I think you may be covering for another student," she went on. "Perhaps I should speak to Mr. Longbottom."
Harry privately didn't think that was such a bad idea. McGonagall was strict, but not unfairly so, and after all, it was up to Neville to decide how much of his private family affairs he was willing to discuss. He would surely protect Ivy if he could. (Snape, too, was likely to keep his own counsel where Ivy was concerned.) But all Harry said was, "Yes, Professor."
She continued to hold his gaze. "Professor Dumbledore, too, has chosen not to confide in me about certain things. Things that I suspect have to do with you. But I suppose it's not your place to say anything about them to me."
Harry didn't know what to answer. Instead he said, "Professor, may I ask you a question about Animagi?"
"As long as you're not planning to become one, Potter," she said, much as Hagrid had.
"Of course not, Professor," Harry assured her. "I wrote a paper about them for Care of Magical Creatures and I'm interested in learning more. Are they … ticklish?"
"I beg your pardon?"
"Actually, what I want to know is … is there any sure way to tell an Animagus from an orinary animal, without turning it back into a person? The book I read says there isn't, but I thought you might know something more."
Professor McGonagall was apparently not above feeling flattered by Harry's confidence in her. "Well, Potter," she said, "There is, as the textbook no doubt told you, no single sign or method that works in all cases. But it is possible to take advantage of the basic difference between animals and Animagi, a difference which you cannot distinguish by simple observation of their bodily characteristics."
"It's their minds that are different," said Harry, beginning to see what she was driving at.
"Precisely, Potter. If you can trap an Animagus in hiding into demonstrating a degree of rationality that doesn't belong to its animal form, you can unmask its true nature."
"I see," said Harry. "Thank you, Professor. May I go now?"
"I suppose so, Potter," sighed Professor McGonagall. "Just don't get into any more trouble than necessary."
"Yes, Professor McGonagall," Harry replied.
* * * * * * * *
Secret Room Number Eight had a massive stone fireplace, and Hermione used her wand to light a small fire in it, enough for the Floo powder to work on. "I asked Serena Wellington about volunteering at Mungo's," she said, "and she told me that candy stripers there are absolutely not allowed to use magic. They're not even supposed to have their wands with them."
"Why not?" asked Ivy, her hand moving to the front of her robes.
"Some of the magic they do at Mungo's is very tricky," said Hermione, "and some of it's dangerous. They need to make sure that different spells don't accidentally collide with each other and cause unpredictable results."
"I'm not leaving my wand behind," said Ivy.
"Neither am I," said Hermione. "We just have to be careful to keep them well-hidden."
"Okay, Neville," said Ron, "what's the name of this tea shop we're going to?"
Neville looked dismayed. "I can't remember!" he exclaimed.
Hermione sighed. "Fortunately this floor plan also includes a map of the immediate neighborhood. This must be it, just across from the main entrance. Bungo's Tea Shop."
Neville's face cleared at once. "Of course that's it. How silly of me to forget."
"Now Harry, you have your Invisibility Cloak?" Ron wanted to know.
"Of course," said Harry. "Safely stowed away. Let's go."
Hermione had brought the Floo powder, and Harry, since he had the cloak, went first. He took a pinch of powder from the bag, threw it into the flames, stepped into them boldly, and announced, "Bungo's Tea Shop!" As soon as he had arrived and stepped out of the fireplace, he took out the cloak, looked around quickly, and pulled it around his shoulders.
Bungo's was a small establishment with just a few round wooden tables and chairs. It was difficult to make out more, because the only light came in through the windows from the street lanterns outside. The room appeared to be empty. Ron arrived next, and Harry shushed him, but said, "I don't think there's anyone here." Ivy, Neville, and Hermione soon appeared, and they all sidled over to the front door as quietly as possible. Hermione found and drew the bolt, and just as she was lifting the latch, a voice from the back of the room said, "Who's there?"
"Nobody," Ron tossed back hastily, and they scuttled out the door.
Harry looked both ways. "This way," he said, leading the way toward a clump of shrubbery at the side of the pavement. "Hide," he whispered, shoving his friends into concealment with invisible hands.
"Ow," muttered Neville as twigs snapped and leaves rustled.
"Ron, you moron, why did you say, 'Nobody'?" hissed Hermione.
"Guess I panicked," he admitted.
Harry watched the door of Bungo's, and sure enough it opened and a bald-headed proprietor appeared, wearing an apron over his robes. He looked up and down the street and muttered, "Must be hearin' things. Thought I bolted the door, but could be I forgot."
The man disappeared inside, but Harry said, "Wait. Don't come out yet." He let two minutes go by, and said, "All right, I think it's safe now. But let's not cross the street right in front of his nose. Keep going this way."
Before long they had come to the main entrance of Mungo's Hospital.
"I've been in this way," said Neville. "It's still visiting hours, but we have to tell them who we're visiting."
"We do if they see us, anyway," said Ivy.
Standing just outside the covered entryway, Hermione lit her wand and consulted the floor plan. "It looks like there's a custodian's closet between the gentlemen's and ladies' toilets just a little way inside the door," she said. "We'll make for that first. Harry, go ahead and tell us when it's clear." Harry made sure he was covered and walked silently toward the double glass doors. His co-conspirators saw one of them open, and a beckoning hand appeared in the air.
"C'mon," said Ron in a low voice, and they followed Harry through the door. "Turn right," whispered Hermione, and in another moment they had crowded into the custodian's closet, leaving the door open just a crack, and bumping into boxes of Mrs. Skower's All-Purpose Magical Mess Remover (Hospital Strength). Neville knocked a broom over and Ivy saved it from clattering on the floor. "Harry?"
"Right here," said a voice outside the closet. "Wait here until I scout out the next lap." In a few minutes they heard him again.
"There's a desk where we're supposed to check in," said Harry, "and a crowd of visitors has just come through. I'll distract the nurse, and you go through the next set of doors. Turn left into the first corridor, and the third door on the left is an empty examining room. I'll meet you there. Now follow me." They tiptoed out of the closet with Harry in the lead, leaving just one finger visible. "Stop," he whispered as they were about to round a corner. "Wait until you hear a crash."
Harry approached the reception counter, where a young nurse was filling out parchment forms with a quill chained to the desk. She had a stack of them next to her on a wooden tray, with a paperweight on the top. When she turned away from it to consult a file, Harry stealthily slid the tray forward so that the end of it stuck out over the edge of the counter, just inches away from her elbow. Harry backed away, and the nurse turned back and knocked the tray over, exactly according to plan. She exclaimed with annoyance and bent to pick up the forms, suspecting nothing out of the ordinary. Ron, Hermione, Neville, and Ivy came round the corner, past the counter, and through the doors while the nurse rustled parchment on the floor, none the wiser. An orderly caught sight of them on the other side, but he was much too busy with his laundry cart to pay them any particular attention. When at last Hermione locked the door to the examining room, they could breathe freely.
Ron hoisted himself onto the examining table and sat with his legs swinging, looking around. The first thing he noticed was a contraption above the table with a transparent panel in a frame, apparently made of glass, at the end of a jointed arm. The angle and location of the glass panel were adjustable. It was clearly a diagnostic tool. Ron situated the window in front of his abdomen and said, "Harry, what can you see through this thing?"
"I can see the front of your robes," said Harry.
"Wait, there's a dial on the side," said Hermione. She twisted it and said, "There's your shirt … now I can see your skin … muscles, ribs, stomach … I can see what you ate for dinner. Ron, that's disgusting. Don't you chew your food at all?"
Ron pushed the window away and said, "I was a little excited tonight."
"That panel must be occultoscopic crystal," said Ivy. "It's not hard to make, but it's strictly regulated because of privacy concerns."
"I see what you mean," said Ron. "Anyone caught carrying that stuff on their person should be immediately taken into custody."
Hermione was peering into some of the drawers in a white cabinet. "I see they have bottles of Clabbert pus here. I'll bet they use it to detect poisoning, the way we did in Defense Against the Dark Arts." Harry was comparing the eye chart on one wall with its reflection in the mirror on the opposite wall, and finding them totally different.
A knock on the door made them all freeze. "Is anyone in here?" asked a voice.
"We'll be out in half a moment," Ivy called back without missing a beat.
"No, it's quite all right. Take your time," the voice called back obligingly. "I'll use one of the other exam rooms."
They all looked at each other with beating hearts. "Either he's mistaken you for someone else," said Ron, "or he thinks someone's having a romantic moment in here and he doesn't want to interrupt."
"Thoughtful of him," said Ivy.
"Um, listen," Neville began diffidently, "maybe we should get back to what we're supposed to be doing here."
"You're right, Neville," said Harry at once.
"Although you can never tell when we might use this information," said Hermione, opening another drawer and finding a mass of leeches, for bloodletting purposes, no doubt.
"We need to get into our disguises," said Ron with relish. "Where do they keep the uniforms?"
"I can tell you that," said Neville. "There's a staff supply closet on the other side of the main corridor. I can show you where."
"Harry, do your stuff," said Ron. Harry pulled his cloak around him and disappeared from view. He opened the door and checked the corridor. "Clear," he said, and the rest of them followed him out. Neville led the way across the main corridor (fortunately they saw no one nearby) and down the opposite branch until they came to a door marked "Staff Attire: Employees Only."
"Well heck, I work here," said Harry. The door was unlocked and they all went in, but to Hermione's consternation she was unable to lock it from the inside.
"Probably so nobody will try to have a romantic moment in here," Ron speculated.
"Harry, you'd better stand outside and be our lookout," Hermione directed. "And we'd all better get ready to hide if someone comes in."
Ivy and Hermione lit their wands. The shelves were piled high with white robes, white aprons, white caps, surgical masks, green surgical robes, surgical gloves, blue robes for ancillary workers, and robes with pink and white stripes (fortunately the pink was a pale and unobtrusive tint) for the young female volunteers. The two girls shed their black Hogwarts robes and started donning their candy-striper garb. Hermione made a face as she put hers on. "No wand pockets in these," she said.
Ron stared at Ivy in disbelief. "Ivy," he said, "you didn't." Ivy had her three-headed, orange-and-black Runespoor wrapped snugly around her waist.
"Obviously I did," she returned coolly, fastening the front of her robe so that the snake could no longer be seen. "Salazara knows she has to behave perfectly when I take her anywhere with me, or she'll be discovered and we'll be separated. I read her a story before dinner, and I brought her because we might need her help."
Ron knew it was too late to argue the point. He regarded the stacks of clothing and decided, "I don't want to be an orderly after all. I think I'll be a medical student." He took a white robe and a white cap. "What about you, Neville?" he asked.
Neville looked around nervously. "I think I'd rather just stay under the cloak with Harry," he said. "If I have to be something I'll be a patient."
Ivy had wound her single black braid around her head (not unlike the snake) and the nurse's cap covered it easily, making her look surprisingly demure. Even though Hermione had tied her hair back, she stuffed it into her cap with some difficulty. She and Ivy looked at Ron speculatively. "You're tall enough, but you still look young for a med student," Ivy criticised. "I know just what you need." She pulled out her wand, pointed it at his face and said, "Barbados!" Ron promptly sprouted a bright-orange, neatly trimmed beard, which lent him an air of immense distinction … or maybe not. Hermione burst into uncontrollable giggles.
Ron put a hand to his face. "Wish I could see how it looks," he said. "It can't possibly be all that funny."
"Trust me, it is," Hermione assured him. "Look, I think we need name tags," she said, taking down a box of parchment rectangles and holders. "There's a quill and ink here so we can fill them out."
"Here, let me," said Ivy. She lettered the names "Iris" and "Hortense" on two tags and handed the second one to Hermione. "It's probably wiser not to use our real names."
"Good thinking," said Ron. Soon he sported a name tag that said "Percy."
The three in disguise emerged cautiously from the closet. They heard a snort of laughter from the air in front of them. "I would never have known you," Harry exclaimed. "Very professional. Where's Neville?"
"He'd rather be with you," said Ron. "You'd better go in and collect him."
While Harry was doing just that, an efficient-looking head nurse in a starched apron and cap emerged from a nearby door and strode along the corridor toward them. She immediately caught sight of Ivy and Hermione and divined their uncertainty.
"Do you young ladies know your assignments?" she asked.
"Yes," said Hermione. "No," said Ivy at the same moment.
Ron quietly melted away, back into the closet, but left the door slightly ajar.
"Well, I just finished mine," Hermione equivocated.
"Well then, you need another one, don't you? Now I want you girls to make up the two beds in Room 107," the woman told them. "The bedclothes are in the linen cupboard at the end of the hall. You do know the proper way to make beds, I hope?"
"Yes, Matron," said Ivy meekly, her eyes wide and guileless.
The woman frowned. "I don't think I recognize either of you. Are you new?"
"I—I'm sorry, Matron," Ivy gulped. "Hortense and I only just started here yesterday and we feel just a bit lost. But I do most dreadfully want to be a nurse one day. It's what I've always dreamed of. I know I have a great deal to learn, but I plan to work very very hard." In the closet, Ron was strangling with laughter and Harry had to pinch him hard to keep him from giving them away.
The matron's face softened. "That's all right, child. That's the kind of attitude we like to see. I'm sure you'll pick things up in a day or two, and then you'll feel right at home. Well then, off you go." She paused. "On second thought, girls, I think I'd like to see your bedmaking technique. A lot of girls who start here have never done it without magic. A well-made bed is the foundation of patient care."
"Oh, I do so agree with you," said Ivy earnestly, shooting a warning glance at Hermione, who looked frustrated. "Actually, I believe I'd feel better if you checked our work, Matron. I want to be sure we're doing it correctly. Let's go and get the sheets, Hortense."
Harry and Neville slipped out of the closet and watched as the two impostors walked briskly to the linen cupboard, hoping to shake their supervisor, but she followed them and called through the door, "Remember to bring two blankets for each bed—a lightweight and a heavy one." The two girls reappeared, each with a set of bed linens and two blankets, and carried them to Room 107. Harry, Neville, and Ron followed them through several turnings, getting more lost with each one, and when they got there Ron parked himself behind the open door in an empty room across the hall. (Room 108, it was.) Hermione started unfolding the sheets and said blankly, "But these sheets are all flat ones, Matron. Don't we want fitted sheets on the bottom?"
"Fitted sheets!" the head nurse exclaimed in shock. "I will thank you to remember that St. Mungo's has always used flat sheets. None of this newfangled Muggle elastic. We pride ourselves on the precision of our hospital corners."
"But …" began Hermione. Ivy elbowed her in the ribs and said, "Of course, Matron." She proceeded to spread a sheet on one of the beds. "Now, we tuck in the ends first, isn't that right, Matron? Hortense, you take the other end."
It took the girls four tries to get the corners on the bottom sheet square enough to suit the Matron. At this rate they would be at it the whole evening, and their instructress seemed to have all the time in the world. Even Ivy was finding it hard to contain her growing twitchiness. They exchanged desperate looks as they opened up the top sheet and spread a lightweight blanket on it under the Matron's eagle eye.
Ron decided to take matters into his own hands. He walked into Room 107, not quite out of breath, but as if he had been searching for several minutes. "Oh, there you are, Matron! Just the person we need. That nurse at the front desk has got the admission records muddled and I think she could use your help."
The Matron looked up and sighed. "Not again? I'd better straighten things out. You girls can carry on from here, can't you?"
"Of course, Matron," said Hermione staunchly. "We know just what to do, now you've showed us."
"Thanks ever so much," added Ivy.
"I'll keep an eye on the bedmaking, dear lady," said Ron, smiling at her like an old friend. "I have a few minutes to spare."
When the head nurse had blessed his heart and bustled off, Ivy said, "Ron, I didn't know you were that good. You could have got carried away and told her the hospital was burning down—but you were perfect. You didn't say a thing that wasn't true."
"It was the beard that did it." Ron stroked it thoughtfully. "Or maybe the name tag. Now if we're going to stay on her good side, we'd better finish with the beds."
Hermione pulled out her wand. "Well, I'm jolly well not going to do it by hand. We don't have time." At her magical bidding the sheets and blankets tucked themselves in and the pillows stuffed themselves in the cases. "There. Now let's find a place where we can plan the next step without being interrupted."
With Harry and Neville scouting ahead, they passed more rooms and found a door marked "Quiet Lounge," with a meeting schedule fastened to it. Harry opened it a crack and peered in. "Empty," he said, and they went in, Hermione locking the door after them. The room was carpeted, paneled, and furnished with armchairs, sofas, and paintings. All of them sat down for a breather, and Harry and Neville emerged from under the cloak.
Ron considered Ivy in her pastel pink-and-white robes. "Funny, I wouldn't have pegged you as the nursing type."
"Nursing? Eughh." Ivy shuddered. "I wouldn't dream of it."
"'Oh Matron, I /dew/ most /dreadfully/ want to be a nurse,'" Ron mimicked. "Laid it on a bit thick, didn't you, /Iris/?"
"But did you see the way she ate it right up, /Percy/?" Ivy countered.
"Too rich," said Harry.
"We'd better figure out where we are," Hermione said, unfolding the floor plan.
"Whatever you say, Hortense," Ron agreed.
"I've got it," she said, pointing to the map. "Here's Room 107 and here's where we are now. Malfoy's office is on the second floor at the back, a long way from here. We'd better take the stairs; the lift is too risky."
"Why hello, dears," said a sweet voice behind them. They turned to find a painting on the wall of a grey-haired woman with spectacles sitting on a sofa. She looked familiar, but Harry couldn't quite remember where he had seen her, until, "You're the one from the painting in Secret Room Number Eight!" exclaimed Hermione.
"Designated for advanced work in Dark Arts Defense Mentality. That's right, dear. I don't spend all my time at Hogwarts. I lead several support groups here at the hospital. In twenty minutes we're going to have a You-Know-Who survivors group. Would you like to join us? It might be just the ticket for you, dear," she said, looking pointedly at Harry's scar.
"Who, me?" asked Harry.
"Um, I think …" Neville began.
"Not," Ron finished.
The woman looked around the room. "I see you didn't bring the teacher who's in denial about his anger. A shame. This group might do him a world of good."
"I wouldn't bet on it," said Ron.
"How do you travel between here and Hogwarts?" Ivy asked.
"Easiest thing in the world, dear. I just go through that door," she pointed behind her to the right of the painting, "walk down the hall, and through the last door on the left, and I'm in my painting at Hogwarts. It's very convenient. My little clinic gives me access to a number of locations, including Hogsmeade and Diagon Alley. Why, I even started a Death Eaters Anonymous group in Knockturn Alley. It's very challenging work."
"I expect it would be," said Harry.
"Madam Nightingale is my name," she went on, "and if you ever need any counseling I hope you'll remember that I'm always available."
"Thanks," said Harry. "Maybe you could answer a question for me."
"Gladly, dear."
"I know St. Mungo's has been around for a long time. Why does it look so much like a Muggle hospital?"
"A modern Muggle hospital," Hermione added. "Except for the fitted sheets. I've been wondering the same thing myself."
"That's a very good question," said Madam Nightingale. "Well, as you probably know, back when St. Mungo's was founded, Muggle medicine was in a deplorable state. Very much hit or miss, and it often did more harm than good. And of course there was no anaesthesia. It's improved a great deal since then, of course, but mostly in the last century. A lot of patients and their families who come here come from a Muggle background, and they feel more secure when they see hospital surroundings like the ones they're used to expecting, instead of something that looks to them like the Dark Ages. It gives them confidence. So St. Mungo's has made a practice of updating its look every twenty years or so."
"Not like Hogwarts," said Hermione.
"No, but then old schools are often thought to be the best," replied Madam Nightingale. "Mind you, some traditionalists frown on all the modern trappings here."
"I think we just met one of them," said Ivy.
"Well, I think we'd better be going," said Ron, edging toward the door.
"Good-bye then, dears," she told them pleasantly. "And thank you for the apples. They were delicious, and I appreciated being thought of."
"The apples," Hermione repeated.
"The ones you left in the mirror."
"Oh yes, those apples," said Ivy. "We're glad you enjoyed them."
"The double-double was especially interesting," Madam Nightingale reflected. "Its flavour made me think of grilled sausages."
Closing the door to the Quiet Lounge, Hermione told Ivy in a low voice, "If anyone asks, we're on our way to make up the beds in Room 223. We'll wait till we get upstairs to pick up the linens."
Now that they knew what they were doing, Ron, Ivy, and Hermione exuded a sense of purpose that helped them blend into the traffic in the corridors. Doctors, nurses, students and aides nodded to them in a friendly way, but didn't stop them or ask any questions. Even the occasional passing centaur accepted their presence as a matter of course. (Hermione had studied a pamphlet on the recent addition of centaurs to the hospital staff as independent consultants, and she explained eagerly about the diplomatic challenges of bringing the centaurs on board, and their important contributions to the healing arts.) They saw a number of candy stripers replacing the candles in the wall brackets that lit the corridor. Harry and Neville stayed close behind their visible companions so as not to cause any collisions. In the empty stairwell (the lifts were vastly preferred) Hermione briefed the rest of them on the route they would take, including detours to pick up and drop off bedding.
Once Ivy and Hermione were carrying armfuls of sheets and blankets, their camouflage was complete. In fact, their faces were nearly hidden. The fact that room 223 was already occupied didn't throw them off stride. They simply found the nearest room with two unmade beds, which turned out to be room 228. The two girls put down their piles of linens, and Hermione said, "Harry, you and Neville go to Malfoy's office. You know how to get there from here. See if you can find out if anyone's in there, and tell us if there's anyone out in the corridor, or anything else we might need to know."
"Okay," said Harry. Suddenly things had grown a degree more serious, now that they were nearing their destination. He and Neville, still under the Invisibility Cloak, left room 228 and went in search of the offices at the back of the hospital. "I feel like I've drunk Panic Potion," whispered Neville beside him, trembling noticeably. "And I think I've forgotten something important, but I can't think what it is."
"Shhh," Harry whispered back. They had reached a corridor with deep carpeting, and the silence was unnerving. It appeared that most of the office staff here had gone home for the day, but Harry and Neville did notice a house-elf emptying wastebaskets. Some of the offices had evidently been left unlocked for that purpose.
They had passed more than half of the doors before they came to one marked "Lucius Malfoy: Advisory Board Member." Lucius Malfoy was the only Advisory Board Member who rated his own office; another four of them shared the next one over. Harry cautiously tried the door, but found it locked, as he had rather expected. He and Neville both put their ears to it, but heard nothing from the other side. "Let's go back," Harry breathed in Neville's ear.
Returning to room 228, they found that Ivy, Ron, and Hermione had been working off their nervous energy by making the beds, hospital corners and all, entirely without magic. "We're getting good at this," said Ron.
"You could be a candy striper too, Ron," Hermione suggested. "Except that the colour of your beard would fight with the robe."
"I'm crushed," sighed Ron.
"We found Mr. Malfoy's office," Harry reported, taking down his hood, "locked, and there doesn't seem to be anyone in it."
"It doesn't seem the sort of place where candy stripers would be assigned," said Neville, also emerging from the Invisibility Cloak.
"We saw a house-elf, though, but it would be hard to disguise ourselves as house-elves."
"House-elves aren't allowed in the parts of the hospital where patients are likely to see them," Hermione told them. "Like candy stripers not being allowed to have their wands. Too much magic around."
"I'll say," Harry agreed. He added, "There's a Gentlemen's just two doors down from Malfoy's office. We could make that our next base."
"I don't suppose it's out of order," said Hermione hopefully.
"No such luck," said Harry. "Someone could pop in on us at any moment. But most of the office people seem to have left for the day."
"We could put an 'out of order' sign on it," Ron proposed. "Then people might think it's like Moaning Myrtle's toilet at Hogwarts."
"Somehow I think that would have the wrong effect," said Harry. "Someone would come in to see what the matter was."
"We might as well stop jawing about it and go," said Ivy.
"Yes, let's get it over with," said Neville. He had started shivering again.
When they got to the office corridor, Harry and Neville found it empty, and the rest of them landed safely in the gentlemen's toilet. Fortunately it was equipped with a wheelchair/ centaur stall big enough to admit all five of them.
"I think we should take off our candy striper robes," said Ivy, beginning to divest herself of hers. "They won't do us any good here."
"You should leave them here, in the Gentlemen's," said Ron. "I'd like to see someone try to explain that. Maybe they'll think that someone was having a romantic—"
"Shut up, Ron," said Harry. He had caught sight of Salazara around Ivy's waist, but he merely raised an eyebrow or two and made no comment. Ivy raised hers back at him.
"We should take them back to Hogwarts with us," Hermione advised, folding up her hospital uniform and stowing it under her Hogwarts robe, which she had just put back on. "We might need them again later. We can return them when we're certain we're finished."
"Someone's coming," said Ivy suddenly. They all fell silent as the door to the Gentlemen's creaked open, hoping that no one would peek under their stall and notice five pairs of feet. Fortunately the anonymous visitor merely used the facilities and left, apparently without discovering their presence. After the door had creaked shut behind him and they dared to breathe again, Ivy said, "Now if there had been two of them, we might have overheard a fragment of conversation that told us something important about our mission."
"I reckon that wasn't in the script," said Ron, who had decided to stay in his medical garb. "Ivy, I think you and Hermione should take Harry's cloak and see if you can get into Ludicrous Malfoy's office—sorry, slip of the tongue. You two are the ones for this job."
"Yes," said Hermione with determination. "Come on, Ivy, let's go." She pulled Harry's cloak on over both of them and they disappeared from view. The door to the stall opened and shut, and then the door to the Gentlemen's. In a few minutes the girls were back.
"We got through the door with a simple unlocking spell," Hermione said, "but inside there's an outer office, for the secretary I suppose, so people won't just barge in on him without making an appointment first."
"I'm sure his time is far too valuable for that," said Harry grimly.
"We noticed a painting on the wall with a man in it," Ivy added, "but he was asleep in his armchair. Hermione put her candy-striper robe over the painting so he won't see anything even if he does wake up."
"Nothing but pink and white stripes, anyway," said Ron.
"It's dark in there, Ron," said Hermione. "And we're going to keep it that way."
"We couldn't open the door to his inner sanctum with the same unlocking spell," coninued Ivy, "so you might as well join us and help us figure it out."
"Right," said Harry. "Let's go."
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AN: At least 20 witnesses can vouch for the fact that I hit on the idea of painted people traveling between different buildings independently of KJRowling.