Chapter Two: The Patient

Harry Potter was dreaming. It was a good dream; he did not want to wake because he knew he would not remember in the morning. The dream ended as Harry drifted into consciousness. He opened one bleary eye and squinted at the clock. 5: 59 am. He barely waited until the music alarm came on. Sitting beside the alarm clock, stood a small, blackened cup, with finely wrought handles and engraved with a badger. A heavy golden locket, engraved with an ornate "S" sat next to the cup. A second gold locket sat next to it. An old relic that belonged to one of the four founders was tucked behind the cup.

Two dark and difficult years had passed since Harry left Hogwarts. The tasks to recover the Horcruxes had taken a toll on Harry, but he was far more determined to find the final two. Nagini and Voldemort. Harry was now far from the boy who had left Hogwarts years before, not only physically, but emotionally as well. Harry got up and opened his wardrobe door. He studied his reflection in the mirror. His unruly black locks framed his well defined cheek bones and strong chin. His nose had become less pointed and more mature. His eyes were as green as ever, but held far more confidence, maturity…and pain. Harry flexed his strong, muscled features and long, thin fingers, and then stretched his long body, forcing himself to wake up properly. He had work to do.

Hermione had been pestering Harry to do something more with his time -other than pouring over a map of possible Voldemort hideouts all day. He kept the map hidden in his pocket and would only take it out if Hermione was not present. Finally, almost two months had passed and Harry was quite thankful for Hermione's idea. He had been hitting dead ends everywhere in his search, so he decided to volunteer at a local muggle hospital recovery room. He met Hermione on the way out of the apartment building.

"Hi," Harry said, softly.

"Are you still sulking! Harry you can't do anything! No one has seen hide nor hair of Voldemort for almost…a month! We have people everywhere; there have been no funny deaths, attacks, or disappearances for a month! We don't even know where all the bloody Death Eaters are!" Hermione said, exasperated. "At least you're helping people...even if you can't save the world, right at this moment. We'll find them Harry, it's only a matter of time."

"I know, but it's so…frustrating knowing that I have two left and can't even begin to find them!"

Hermione had the grace to look like she cared. How many times did they have this conversation? "Alright, alright, I know this is frustrating, but you really can't do anymore than to study your magic, practise and…take breaks by helping where you can… Now go!" She ordered, pushing Harry out the door and on to the street.

Harry walked into a large white building and headed for the elevators. He pushed the 3rd floor button and waited. When he got out the elevator, the secretary, a plump, kindly looking woman, greeted him. "Hello, dear. We are so grateful to have your help; you are so gifted when it comes to helping people! More people smile here because of you!"

"My pleasure, Sandra," said Harry, managing a smile. "What have we got today?"

"Well, you're not going to like this: Someone found an unconscious man in a park and brought him in. He looks like he hasn't eaten in weeks! He had festering wounds, like he was beaten! He won't tell us his name and we know he talk… at least when he's been awake! The mouth on that one! I didn't know half the things he said! It was a hate crime, we think." Sandra added, gravely.

"Hate crime? How so?" asked Harry.

"He's blind! Can you imagine someone beating up a blind person! It's disgusting! He can't have been blind for that long… Anyway, since you're so good with people…and no one wants to go near him…we thought you could help him to the road of recovery!" Sandra smiled.

"Hm…nice of you. How long has he been here?" asked Harry.

"About…3 weeks. He was unconscious up until last night. We didn't want him waking everyone up, so we put him up in the private ward. He's tried to escape a couple times, but he keeps knocking into things and giving himself away. Bless his heart…." Sandra trailed off.

"…Right. Does he have a name?" asked Harry, taking a clip board.

"Yeah, John Doe!" scoffed Sandra, and then added, shyly, "You'll like him Harry, he's a dangerous but beautiful creature. Dragon like, in fact."

"Umm...sure," Harry didn't know what to say to this. Sandra reminded him of Luna Lovegood sometimes. "I'll try to get his name outta him. What room number?"

"777"

Harry turned back to the elevator and arrived in the private ward. When he found the right room, he paused. Harry knew something was going to change...