St. Mungo's was, to no one's shock, an absolute madhouse. Injured persons from the World Cup and their families were Apparating, traveling via Floo Network, and even riding brooms into the hospital. The Healers, thankfully, responded well to the stress and were giving out cards to sort out which of the people needed immediate attention and which could wait some time before being seen.
When Dean, Sirius, and Remus arrived via Portkey Dean was immediately ushered into a back room the moment that a Healer glimpsed one of the gashes across his chest. The two Marauders followed closely after him, ignoring the looks that were directed at Sirius.
"Well, well, well," came a familiar voice dripping with cold amusement. "Squirrel, couldn't stay away from me could you? Absence makes the heart grow fonder you know."
"I changed my mind, let me die," Dean said, half-rising from his seat. He had no issue with Crowley treating his wounds, he just knew that the former demon would absolutely never let him forget the fact that he saved his life. It just wasn't worth it.
"Petrificus Totalus." Crowley said calmly, directing his wand at Dean. The hunter's limbs snapped to his side and he fell back onto the hospital bed. Crowley saw the looks of shock on the others' faces and shrugged. "Can't have an injured patient trying to get away from me, now can I?"
"Did you need to hex him though?" Sirius asked weakly, watching Crowley's wand warily.
"Probably not," Crowley, supremely unconcerned with his methods, shrugged. "I am glad to see that you managed to survive that World Cup slaughter however. Sixteen dead already."
"Sixteen?" Remus asked sharply. "We had heard of only five."
"Ten bodies have been brought it and six more died from wounds sustained." Crowley said, peering at Dean's wound and frowning. "Two more of these and you would have joined him. Nasty curse work this, designed to hurt for as long as possible. Prevents blood from coagulating as well."
"The one who used it wasn't the nicest of sorts," Sirius muttered. "The Seeker, Lynch, is he…?"
Crowley didn't bother looking up. "I worked on him personally. Myself and a dozen other Healers. He's alive, somehow. I'd wager his luck is all used up for the next ten years."
Crowley waved his wand and a tub of some sort of red salve came zooming in from the next room. He applied a large amount to Dean's wounds and then straightened from his hunched position. "He'll be just fine." He said confidently. "Remus, you seem like the most responsible one of you Three Musketeers. Make sure he rests for the next three days would you? After that he should be fine."
"Dammit Crowley," Dean said, the effects of the Body-Bind Curse beginning to lift. He spoke through gritted teeth, which seemed to cost him no small amount of energy.
"Well, I believe that is my cue," he said, wiping the remainder of the salve onto Dean's clothes and turning to walk out the room. "Stay out of trouble, boys."
The second that Crowley had set a foot outside of his room another summons, which was a paper that had been spelled to fold itself into a paper airplane and fly throughout the hospital, was before him. He snatched it from the air, quickly read it, and then headed off into the appropriate direction. He already had more than one grievance against Death Eaters and giving him so much extra work a mere few days before he was due to return to Hogwarts and deal with all those sniveling brats was almost maddening. The day that he met one of them he made a mental note to capture one. They seemed to enjoy torture, amateurs though they were, so it was only right that he gave them a first hand experience as to what a real master could do.
Remus and Sirius half-walked and half-dragged Dean from the hospital as he fought off the last remnants of the Body-Bind Curse. The street outside of St. Mungo's was much less chaotic, and it was there that they paused to catch their breaths for it seemed like everything had happened all at once and they hadn't truly had a chance to breathe.
"Sixteen people." Remus repeated softly. "Sixteen people that didn't need to die."
"I haven't heard of a body count like that since You-Know-Who was at full power." Sirius said in a low voice. "I really hoped we wouldn't ever again, either."
"Any chance the Ministry will be able to catch any of those guys in masks?" Dean asked hopefully, visions of revenge dancing in his eyes.
"Doubtful," Sirius sighed. "As much as I hate to say it, they aren't stupid. They survived this long without being caught, I almost guarantee that-."
"SIRIUS!" a boy with a lightning bolt scar roared as he leapt from the St. Mungo's stairs and crashed into the long-haired man.
Sirius's breath whooshed from his lungs, but he managed to keep both himself and Dean upright. "Harry, what are you doing here?"
"We were at the World Cup." He said, stepping back and releasing Sirius. "Mr. Weasley was with the Ministry when they tried to catch Voldemort's followers and he got hurt. So we had to come here so he could get treated."
"Is Arthur hurt badly, Harry?" Remus asked intently.
Harry, seeming to notice Lupin for the first time, blinked in surprise. "Oh, hello Professor. No, he's not seriously wounded. He fell and broke his ankle, the Healers said they can fix him in less than a minute so we're just waiting for one of them to set him right."
"You were at the World Cup, Harry?" Sirius asked, concern in his tone. "Why didn't you tell me?"
"Hedwig was on a long journey for Hermione, I didn't really think about it to be honest." Harry said. "Sorry…"
"Harry, I know that it must be strange-." Sirius began tentatively, uncertainly.
Remus coughed loudly, interrupting his friend. "Sirius, Harry, I don't mean to interrupt this very necessary conversation but Dean was told to get plenty of rest and I intend for him to do just that. Sirius, if you wish to stay here and speak to Harry you are more than welcome to. I can manage Dean on my own."
"I'm fine," Dean protested, attempting to push Lupin away. He smacked his chest lightly. "Fit as a fiddle, really. Don't worry about me."
He was promptly ignored by Remus and Sirius. The latter turned to Harry and put his hands on his shoulders, looking him in the eyes. "I don't know why Dumbledore insisted that you returned to your Aunt and Uncle's house rather than to come live with me. But Harry I do want to be a part of your life. There are so many things about your parents that I want to tell you. Remus and I both do."
"We'll tell you everything, Harry," Remus agreed. "But not tonight. Go back inside and stay with the Weasleys. The last thing that we need is for you of all people to get lost."
Harry, looking overwhelmed by all this, headed back inside after one long look over his shoulder. "Having some issues?" Dean asked, panting now. He shouldn't have thumped himself on the chest. It hurt like hell.
"I don't know." Sirius said honestly. "Hang on, Dean, we're going to apparate back to Diagon Alley."
"Wait, hang on, let me get-." He began, trying to brace himself for the sudden turn that accompanied Disapparating. He didn't get a chance. He felt his chest rip itself apart with agony as Sirius and Remus simultaneously turned on the spot. He felt an odd hooking sensation behind his navel and then, all at once, his feet found themselves on a cobbled road. "Ready."
"Sorry about that, Dean," Remus said sincerely. "But it wouldn't have been easy either way, better to just get it over with."
"I really hate you right now," Dean said, breathing weakly a thin sheen of sweat on his brow.
They headed to the room Lupin had been living in since his sacking from Hogwarts, and there they stayed. Despite his complaints, Remus insisted that Dean take the bed and that he and Sirius would find somewhere else to sleep. Dean, grudgingly, laid down onto the bed and breathed a sigh of relief as the pressure on his chest immediately lessened. A few seconds later the hunter was fast asleep.