The light is bright. Too bright. it hurts...
"Good morning Brandon."
No! No, there is nothing good.
The woman is smiling but he knows she is false.
"I am going to give you your wand in a moment. You won't do anything unless I tell you, will you?"
He watches her reposition the patches on his chest and face. She places another at his wrist and another just below the crook of his elbow before placing the wand in his hand. He twitches and a jolt of pure agony is driven through him. He refuses to cry out but his body jerks and twitches even after the pain is reduced. His fingers grip the wood so tightly that he can feel his nails digging into his palm.
"I'd have thought he'd be more cooperative than this, Maggie." a man's voice, older but not ancient, comments dryly from somewhere out of sight.
"Then we can hope he will serve our needs beyond expectations. I suggest we leave the room now..."
Expectations. Exceeds Expectations... Important. Why?
"Now, Brandon, show us--" Her voice echos loudly, reverberating from the walls as well as his head. Incoherent screams pound his ears just before an arch of brilliant lightning flashes from his wand. It hits something, He doesn't know or see what. He doesn't especially care what. Another bolt flares and then something explodes. There is darkness all of a sudden and smoke. Lots of smoke getting thicker. Small explosions are snapping all around. The smoke is thick and brown and acid. Suddenly that earlier torture is resumed and pain is coursing through his body. A terrible ear piercing wail starts up that goes on and on while until lack of oxygen befuddles his lungs and mind and even panic seems distant and tranquil.
--
Harry didn't know what to do. Without any warning at all the man had started hyperventilating. He and Ron, caught up in their match, hadn't realized he'd been awake. But even now there was no sign of the wide eyed panic normally seen with this affliction. The teen hovered ineffectually at the bedside, his tense fear relieved only when an adult arm gently pulled him aside letting Mrs Weasley take his place. Immediately, she murmured a charm and the man relaxed, his breathing settled.
"What happened boys?" Remus was the first to ask.
"Nothing!" Ron's tone was offended.
"Remus, nothing. We were playing chess and he was asleep. It looked like he was asleep."
"Remus, dear, don't scold them." Molly said looking up from Professor Snape's unresponsive form. "I think it was a reaction to the Muggle potions."
"But you aren't giving him any, are you?" asked Tonks, her expressive face showing confusion.
"No, of course not, dear. But they are still in him."
"Withdrawal." Harry said suddenly. Being the one person here with any extensive exposure to the Muggle world, he was the first to conclude what might be going on.
"Explain, Harry," Dumbledore encouraged with his usual kindly tone.
"Sometimes Muggles take too much of their drugs, their potions I mean, and when they stop taking them their bodies react badly. They call it withdrawal."
"Do they have any remedies for this malady?"
Harry shrugged. "I don't know, sir."
Mrs Weasley frowned and shook her head. "Even if they do, Albus, Severus would likely not tolerate them well." She looked back at the man on the bed and saw that his eyes were open. Blank in their stare but open. She forced a smile. "Hello, dear. Feeling all right, now?" Not that she, or anyone, expected an answer. The dark eyes moved away from her and settled on Tonks who was peering down at the man with unabashed curiosity.
Horror flooded the Potions Masters face and he moaned, his gaze glued to Tonks. "No" wrenched weakly from his throat.
Tonks pulled back in surprise. "I didn't do anything!" Everyone was looking at her.
"Of course not, Tonks," Dumbledore acknowledged. "But perhaps you remind him of someone who did."
Tonks scrubbed her hand through the short blond hair she had chosen for today and shrugged. Too bad they couldn't ask him about it.
The Headmaster saw the wheels turning in her mind and answered the unstated question with a definite shake of his head, "And I will not invade his mind by casting legilimens. I daren't risk an adverse reaction," he added quietly.
The Potions Master snarled but looked terrified rather than ferocious. Tonks quickly moved back behind Kingsley and Mad-Eye and Snape returned to his former catatonic state.
"As fascinating a mystery as this is, it's not a priority." Moody intoned. "Countering You-Know-Who's attacks is. Arthur's place wasn't the only one attacked that night. They're getting so bold I wouldn't be surprised if You-Know-Who himself ran for office."
"That's disgusting," Tonks retorted. "I'd expect a coup is more his way."
"My dears, that is what this war is all about." Dumbledore reminded them all. "He is not strong enough for open warfare yet. For now he settles for the smaller assaults with the intent to strike terror into those of us who are already afraid as well as gather to himself the fanatical soldiars needed as fodder."
"So why would he send Snape to the Muggles?" Shacklebolt asked.
Dumbledore shrugged. He had absolutely no ideas there.
--
When Dr. Margaret Sellinger finally got home after a thoroughly frustrated day of yelling at incompetent assitants, she was contemplating a long hot soak in jasmine scented bubble bath. She unlocked her door, slipped inside and scooped the post up from the floor without looking up. Eyes still frowning at the junk catalogs and advertisements for useless magazines, she kicked the door closed.
"Good evening Doctor." The voice was low and casual.
She dropped the papers as her head snapped up to see the three men lounging about her sitting room. "Bloody Hell!" she gasped. "Get out!"
"Kellerman wasn't at all happy that you didn't properly dispose of the specimen."
"He's a shortsighted idiot."
The man shrugged. "Possibly. On the other hand, the gov'nor was more than happy to have you resume your investigations."
Margaret looked interested.
"Too bad your hiding place proved insecure."
"What do you mean?"
"He's gone."
"What?! I was just waiting for things to quiet down and then resume the work. What do you mean 'gone?' He couldn't have just strolled out--"
"At first Leader wanted your head for this cock up. But then he realized it really wasn't your fault. Unless it was you who told the wizards where they might find their man."
Margaret snorted. "Not bloody likely. So what happened?" She brushed past the man and settled herself down in the remaining overstuffed chair. Clearly they weren't ready to leave yet. And as she was not ready to give up on her project and these louts might be useful.
"A man and a woman fetched him. They had the correct release forms all properly stamped and signed. All forged, of course."
"But no one knew he was there!"
"You don't watch the telly much do you, doc?" One of the other men observed.
"Not at all, in fact. Waste of time and brain cells." I suppose you do, though, don't you? She didn't say this out loud, of course, but the condescending sneer on her face might have given the thought away. "Why?"
"Because one of them obviously does," the group's leader answered. "Your man was in the news, my dear. Caught in a background shot in an expose on the shabby treatment given by the government funded mental wards."
Shit.