Chapter Five: Two and One-half Hornswaggles Later

As Susan crossed the threshold, a series of thoughts assailed her. The first: Do no harm.

The second: Don't let him harm you. The third: What if there is no other choice? She stumbled, trying to run toward and away from Harry at the same time. With a sharp cry she fell to the floor. She'd have bruises on her knees after this.

When Susan rolled Harry onto his back, his face was grayish and his lips were tinted blue. She put a hand to his clammy neck and her cheek near his mouth, watching his chest closely. A heartbeat, irregular and faint. Rapid, shallow breathing. He needed to be stabilized before shock consumed him, and for that to happen, they needed to be at St. Mungo's.

The door that Ginny had exited through had disappeared. Susan ran toward the one she had come in by, planning to break out that way. As she turned back, she saw that the room was L-shaped. Around the corner, a bed, a tall cabinet, and a wide counter lined the walls. In an instant, Susan changed her plans.

"Mobilicorpus!" Susan levitated Harry across the room, depositing him on his side, and covered him with blankets from a neatly folded pile at the end of the bed. She saved one, tucking it underneath his feet to elevate his legs. Then, on instinct, she flung wide the doors of the cabinet. Pointing her wand at Harry, she muttered stabilization spells while she examined its contents.

Almost everything a Healer could want was stacked on the shelves. Rolls of gauze, tongue depressors, Ogden's Old, willowbark tea in a round tin, icerplant gel, and a hundred other remedies vied for space with a cauldron and potion ingredients that even Professor Snape probably didn't have in his collection. There were some Muggle tools Susan was vaguely familiar with, such as a stethoscope and some ugly, sharp-looking needles.

She rummaged through the supplies until she found eye of Hornswaggle, a very rare--and very expensive--heartbeat stabilizer. A teapot turned up in a drawer, and she lit a burner for tea and another under the cauldron to make Hornswaggle ointment. Five eyeballs, mashed, had to be heated with olive oil for a minute. Susan checked Harry's pulse and breathing while she waited for the infusion to cool.

As she worked, a little tune by her favorite wizard composers had been writhing around the back of her brain. When she unbuttoned Harry's shirt and smeared the Hornswaggle ointment across his chest, she was able to break concentration enough to hear it at last. The question is, had he not been a thing of beauty, would she be swayed by quite as keen a sense of duty? a chorus sang in her ear.

Of course, she snapped back at herself. Every girl she knew had had a crush on Harry at one point or another, and he was still compelling now, bony and thin and weak as he was. The Hufflepuff girls had spread a rumor that he'd been locked in an oubliette as a child, and that was why he was always so pale. It would take years for the sun to catch up to him. He had never really been handsome, but he was You-Know-Who's chosen. He had saved them once. When the war years came, everyone thought he would do it again.

But he hadn't.

The question was, why was he so important to the Ministry that they'd spend thousands of Galleons to keep eye of Hornswaggle, which was so perishable that it had to be replenished weekly, on hand?

Then, there was the other question. When and if Harry woke up, would he be as horrible to her as he had been to Ginny?

There was no time to wonder. Harry's eyelids fluttered, and he reached up to straighten his glasses, which were askew on his face. "'Lo. Susan, right? You look different." He blinked a few times, gaining color in his cheeks. "I didn't know you had been trained. Did Neville recruit you?"

"No--what? No. Are you--are you Harry?"

Harry stared at her as if she were a three-headed dog. "You remember me, don't you? We were in Dumbledore's Army together."

Susan let out a nervous giggle and reached reflexively for her braid. She'd cut her hair to her chin years ago, but when she was flustered she still wanted the feel of pressure on her scalp. "Er, I'm the one who should be asking the questions. Do you know where you are?"

"I'm at the Ministry."

"Where did you go to school?"

"Hogwarts, same as you," Harry replied with a hint of a grin.

So, death was not imminent. "What's your name?"

"Harry James Potter."

Susan spoke the next carefully. "Who is Tom?"

Harry's eyebrows drew together. "Why--didn't Ginny tell you?"

"No, she said we were going to be late, and then you two were horrible to each other..." Susan trailed off. "I wasn't even supposed to be here today. It was last-minute."

Harry rolled onto his back and squeezed his eyes shut for a second. "It's sort of hard to explain, and you're not going to like the explanation. However, you will need to know if you're going to have Ministry detail." He paused as Susan propped him up with pillows and he accepted her offer of tea. "It's a long story, and it started before I was born."

"Well, I'm not going anywhere until you're feeling better, and Ginny locked us in." Susan stirred sugar from a paper packet into her tea. "Or out--she wasn't quite herself either."

"She would have. Smart girl. You might have gone after her." A ghost of a smile flitted across Harry's face. "I suppose things looked sort of dodgy."

Susan sat down on the wheeled stool beside Harry's bed. She wasn't sure how to respond.

"Before I was born, Sibyll Trelawney made a prophecy so real that even Voldemort believed it."

He examined his hands for a moment, allowing Susan time to wipe up the tea that she had spilled over herself. "Trelawney?"

"Voldemort believed that it was something more than what it was. And my godfather ended up dying for it. There was a part of it that said that one of us had to die by the hand of the other--either Voldemort or me. I think he'd have figured that out for himself, actually, although I've never quite believed that part. I think it meant--means--something else." He sighed. "The prophecy was here in the Ministry, but it was broken and set free. Voldemort eventually worked spells that relayed the whole of if back to him, as best we can tell from the Death Eaters that were caught and captured after the attack on Hogwarts."

"I remember," Susan said, even though she didn't really. She'd been at the Healer's Academy then.

"So I went into hiding, and Ron and Hermione came with me. But that couldn't go on forever. Do you know about Legilmency and Occlumency?"

Susan nodded. They'd made a cursory study of them at the Academy, along with how to heal complications of the Imperius and Cruciatus Curses.

"When Voldemort is in my mind, he can be hurt. I lured him there, let him believe that I would become his slave. Then, I killed myself."

"What?" Susan's teacup and saucer rattled in her hands. "You're alive. I mean, you're alive now, aren't you?"

"Yes, now. But when Voldemort was in me, I cast the Killing Curse on myself. I thought that I had succeeded. Nothing happened to me. Apparently, I've got some insurance against that particular curse." He flattened his fringe over his scar. "Wish I had known that in advance. It took me a long time get my nerve up. Oh, don't look at me like that." He crossed his arms over his chest. "I can still get run over by a bus, just like anybody else. Especially if Ernie Prang is driving and the bus is purple."

"How," Susan asked, swirling the dregs of her tea around in circles, "or, why, did Percy Weasley kill him too?"

"There's a bit more in between, actually. We thought that Voldemort really was gone for good, but I started dreaming him again a month later. Hermione had gone to Bulgaria and Ron had a new job. The Or--a group had plans to announce Voldemort's defeat. The only thing I knew was that Voldemort didn't have his body anymore. That was fine by me; I'd managed to keep him at bay like that before. So, every morning, I Banished him."

"Professor Flitwick would be proud."

Harry looked pleased with himself. "He would, wouldn't he? Anyway, lucky Voldemort, getting to see the world. A new country every day. I just hope he doesn't take to possessing penguins." His smile faded. "However, the easiest way to keep anyone from looking for Voldemort is to let the world think he's dead. The attack that everyone remembers, outside of Gringotts'--you'll have read about it?"

"Actually, I was there," Susan supplied. "I saw Percy Weasley use the Killing Curse on Voldemort."

"That wasn't Voldemort. That was me."

Susan thought about this for a moment. "An illusion. So, who was Percy Weasley?"

"Percy was Percy." Harry drained the last of his tea. "He's been working for Dumbledore since before he left Hogwarts, even. Wasn't always the best at his work. Still, I think he's better at being Minister than writing reports about cauldron bottoms. He's got better with people, too."

"Percy--Percy wasn't--he's not the man I thought he was."

Harry's voice grew cold. "He's sacrificed as much as any of us. Look, I've only told you this to spare you trying to nose it out and asking questions of the wrong people. You need it to know why you're here and what to do."

She took the teacups to the counter. "Yes. I'm here to see that you recover. Your body has had an awful shock, and I want you to follow a careful treatment schedule. First, I'll want to see you tomorrow to make sure that there aren't any complications--"

"I don't think you understand."

Susan's gut told her not to turn around, to cover her ears, to run. Instead, she gripped the edge of the counter, bracing herself for what she feared was coming.

"Susan, Voldemort isn't dead. I have to do this every day."

"Every day," she repeated, watching afterimages dance across the backs of her eyelids. "You can't possibly."

"You're right. I let Ginny off holidays."

At this, Susan looked to see if Harry was having a bit of fun with her. He was rolling the edge of a blanket around his fingers, one at a time. "The Aurors used to take turns, but eventually all of them begged off. Ginny's the only one who stayed. Percy has to give her an official order to make her go home at Christmas." His voice turned to a raspy whisper. "I don't always remember it all. I know it's horrible."

She shivered. If that was what the man could do dead, she didn't want to run across the Dark Lord alive. "Maybe she could take it in turns with Ron, or Hermione?"

"No," Harry replied sharply. "They think things--they don't know. They think the Killing Curse worked the first time. I don't want them to know. And you aren't going to tell them. Doctor-patient confidentiality."

"The existence of You-Know-Who doesn't exactly fall under the realm of--"

"Do you want word to get out? Do you want panic in the streets? Do you want to be labeled a liar in the Daily Prophet?" he continued, his voice rising.

"N-no," Susan stuttered.

"Then don't tell anyone. If you think you can't keep it a secret until you're relieved of Ministry duty, Ginny can Obliviate you before you leave today." He turned over to face the wall. "Besides, if I know her at all, she's charmed you to break out in all manner of warts and boils if you talk."

Susan remembered Ginny's wandwork when she'd first arrived. "All right. Give me your arm so I can check your pulse."

"My pulse is elevated, thanks. You can go now."

"Harry, I have to make sure--"

"I refuse further care," Harry said, enunciating carefully. "You are released from responsibility. The room has time-stamped this, and if I die now you won't be blamed. The doors should be unlocked, too."

Susan straightened up the supplies as best she could. It was in her mind to say something about rest and fluids, but in the end the sight of Harry's back, set firmly against her, caused her to leave as quietly as she could.

When she stepped back into the sunny outer office, Ginny was waiting behind a towering stack of paperwork. "There are some forms to sign. The Minister would like to see you first, please."

Susan gave Ginny a wide berth as she entered the Minister's office. It, too, was brightly lit and pleasant. Percy Weasley sat behind a magnificently carved mahogany desk. His plain, carefully tailored robes were a stark contrast to the ostentatious display of wealth within the Minister's office. Since she had last seen him, he'd grown gray around the edges, and his face was softer, more thoughtful.

"How is our patient?"

"Well..." Susan considered how best to tell the Minister that it was none of his business.

He seemed to have anticipated this, because he started rummaging in his desk. "It was a bone of contention with Healer Smethwyck, so you should know that I do have a release form, signed by Harry, that allows you to discuss all the details of his treatment and condition with me." He gave her a piercing look over the top of his horn-rimmed glasses. "I'm sure you've discovered that he is our most precious natural resource."

"Perhaps he should be kept in Gringotts, then," Susan said stiffly.

"That's not what I meant." Percy gave up the search for the release form, slamming a drawer shut. "And as much as I would like to be interested in your opinion, Miss Bones, I'm very busy and far more interested in the health of the wizarding world's most valuable man."

Susan bit back a retort. Percy was watching her closely, too closely for comfort. He cares about the whole, she thought to herself. "I can't believe he's lasted this long. It will kill him."

He nodded. "As I thought."

Susan listened to the sound of their breathing. When Percy spoke again, his voice was strained. "All I ask is that you do your best. That's not merely a personal request. I ask on behalf of the entire wizarding world."

"I will," she promised in a whisper.

"Have you been briefed on security matters?" Percy was all business again, referring to his notes. "You're not to speak of this to anyone except Harry, Ginny, and myself, for now."

"I'd got the general idea," Susan half-laughed, even though she felt like crying.

"Then let me give you the specific idea. There will be dire consequences--beyond anything Ginny's done--should you reveal anything about what you've learned here today."

That wasn't a threat, Susan realized. It was a promise.

Percy was calm as he showed her to the door himself. "Thank you," he said, and Susan believed he was sincere. She nodded in response, not trusting herself to speak.

In the outer office yet again, Susan took a chair in the corner and busied herself with the paperwork. Did the subject seem taller than usual? Shorter than usual? Were there any noticeable changes in the subject's appearance? Did the subject exhibit loss of consciousness? If so, for how long?

While Susan scratched her quill back and forth along the page, a string of Ministry workers, prominent citizens, and reporters tramped through the office to be shown through to the Minister or turned away. Ginny's all-business attitude was well enough when there were other people in the room, but when she went back to her paperwork, her chilly silence was unnerving to Susan. Maybe I'll see if Auntie is about and visit with her before I go back to work, she thought, using that as an excuse for hurrying through the records.

At long last the pile of parchment was face-down in Susan's lap. She shuffled the edges together with as much noise as possible to announce her imminent departure. "All done."

Ginny looked up from her work. "Do I need to Obliviate you, or will you be returning tomorrow?"

"I don't know," Susan said, "but I'm not going to walk away from this. However, I'm not in charge of the scheduling. Perhaps Healer Smethwyck won't send me again." Susan presumed that some sort of procedure was in place for wiping the memory of retired Healers.

Ginny snorted. "If it's between you and Smethwyck, you'll be back." She held out her hand for the sheaf of parchment. "Try to be a little earlier, so you can catch up on the records."

"Do you mind...I know I'll be asked all sorts of questions." Muriel Hopkirk's probably drooling in anticipation of some new gossip. "Officially, why was I here today? I want to make sure I don't let anything slip. Harry's safety is more important."

For the first time since her back in their days at Hogwarts, Susan saw a genuine smile cross Ginny's face. "Well, it's not official, but you may insinuate that the Minister suffers from hemorrhoids and needs daily care." She winked. "I thought that up myself."

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Harry Potter is the property of JK Rowling and her publishers. No money is being made and no trademark or copyright infringement is intended. No one knows exactly who came up with the phrase 'first, do no harm.' It isn't actually in the Hippocratic Oath. The phrase 'The question is, were he not such a thing of beauty...' is from The Pirates of Penzance by Gilbert and Sullivan.