A/N: One shot. Explains why the Matron never did anything about the signs of Harry's abuse at the hands of the Dursleys. Dumbledore bashing implied. Poppy Pomphrey.
Disclaimer: same old, same old. Still haven't found a way to own it yet.
The Problem of Poppy Pomphrey
Poppy Pomphrey, Matron of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, shook her head in disbelief. Surely not, she thought, and then did what every good Healer did when confronted with seemingly impossible results: she repeated the test, taking special care with her technique. It wouldn't do to ruin a second attempt with sloppy wand work.
The results were unchanged.
Poppy's lips pressed together into a thin line. If she was reading the diagnostic runes floating over the small child's body correctly—and she was—then the boy was suffering the effects of long-term malnutrition, as well as signs of multiple broken bones, cracked ribs, contusions, and at least three old concussions.
In other words, the little boy was not only small for his age, but carried in his very bones a hellish history of physical abuse and neglect. The good news, if anything could be considered to be 'good' about such a horrible scan, was that there seemed to be no signs of sexual abuse. Well, Poppy would take what she could get.
Then, noticing the anxious look in the huge emerald eyes gazing up at her, she smiled one of her best professional smiles.
"Now, now, Mr. Potter; there's nothing wrong with you that I can't put to rights," she said, hating herself for the lie she made herself tell her tiny patient. "You just wait right here, I'll be back in a jiffy with a potion or three, and you'll be right as rain in jig time!"
She consoled herself with the thought that she would actually be starting the process of making the boy better, even though she knew that it would be a long time before he was actually 'all right'.
Poppandrea Pomphrey had been a Ravenclaw who was third in her class at Hogwarts. Her blood was pure enough, despite a few muggle-borns who'd been brought into the family over the centuries, and the family itself had always been good, solid wizarding yeoman stock. Not for the Pomphreys the manor or great estate; theirs was the world of cottage and field. Still and all, the line reached back as far as some of the 'Ancient' houses, and had always had a good reputation.
That reputation, glowing letters of recommendation from Horace Slughorn and Albus Dumbledore, and her outstanding NEWT scores were sufficient to place her in a Healer training slot at St. Mungo's. She'd thrown herself into her training with the same intensity that she'd shown at Hogwarts, and done well in almost every area. She'd found her true calling, however, in treating sick children; she'd played the inevitable games necessary to work her way into a Paediatrics fellowship, and excelled once she was there. Her superiors were so pleased with her that they offered her a position at St. Mungo's immediately upon her graduation.
She had been quite surprised to receive the owl from Headmaster Dumbledore, asking to meet her for tea. Not knowing just why the venerable Headmaster might want to meet with her, she'd agreed.
She'd been completely taken by surprise when Dumbledore offered her the position of Matron—School Nurse—at Hogwarts, and done her best to object.
"But Headmaster, Madam Ingleshot is a more than competent paediatric nurse..."
"Who has informed me that she will be retiring at the end of this school year," Albus twinkled at her over his teacup.
"I see," Poppy really did see. Being what it was—a school for training young wizards and witches in the proper use of their rapidly growing magic, not to mention their bodies—for Hogwarts to be without a full-time nurse would be a catastrophe. "Still, I'm not sure that having a fully-certified Healer would be any better for the children than having a good Nurse, and a convenient floo connection to the emergency ward of St. Mungo's."
"I'm afraid that I can't agree with that," the Headmaster had sighed. "You've been on the receiving end of that floo far too many times these past few months, haven't you, Healer Pomphrey? We both know that there have been several injuries over the past year or so that were exacerbated by floo travel, and portkeying a seriously-injured child has always been a dicey proposition, at best. No," the Headmaster went on, "I've done my homework on this, and managed to convince the Board that we need someone more capable than a mere Nurse available at Hogwarts on a full-time basis."
She and Albus had shared a smile at the thought of the grey bearded Headmaster actually doing 'homework', but she couldn't argue with the parchments he produced. Edna Ingleshot was nothing if not meticulous in her documentation, and her records for the past five years made for interesting reading. Madam Ingleshot had a transfer rate to St. Mungo's of between five and seven cases in any given month, with a high in October two years prior of nineteen transfers (although, that was an anomaly due to a chain-explosion of cauldrons in one particularly disastrous Potions class).
As she kept reading, she remembered several of the cases that had recently been transferred. At least three of them should never have been exposed to the floo network; she had particularly vivid memories of frantically trying to stabilize a transfiguration accident that Madam Ingleshot had, appropriately, sent on as soon as the child was brought to the hospital wing.
"And so you see, the Board agrees with me that the position should be filled by a fully trained Healer...although, the title will remain 'Matron', as it is the tradition," the Headmaster spoke as she read on. "The salary will be commensurate with that of a Ward Healer here at St. Mungo's; I'm given to understand that makes it somewhat more than you might otherwise expect."
A bit shocked at the salary the Headmaster was discussing, Poppy only nodded.
"Of course, there are some...unique features of the position," Dumbledore went on. "While the summer months, of course, will be your own, most of the previous Nurses have used the time to prepare for the upcoming year. I believe Madam Ingleshot has referred to it as 'the inevitable onslaught', or some such. The hospital wing also houses your quarters, and you will be expected to respond to emergencies at any hour of the day or night."
Poppy nodded at this. As the only medical person on site, she would expect no less. Fortunately, there would be few such instances, and they would be true emergencies.
"There is a potions laboratory in the wing as well, but most of the potions you will need are either supplied by the brewers here at St. Mungo's or stocked by the school's Potions Master."
"I've used Master Slughorn's potions in the past, with good results," she said, considering. "I'm certain that they won't be a problem."
"Indeed," Dumbledore smiled, and she realized that she was actually giving the matter serious consideration. "You will also be responsible for the medical care of the faculty and staff, but this typically requires only a small portion of your time. Oh, and of course, the house elves will be available to assist you with the mundane chores of cleaning and whatnot."
"Are any of the house elves trained in patient care?" Poppy asked, curious. There were some at St. Mungo's, of course, but she'd only rarely heard of medical care elves otherwise.
"Not to my knowledge," Dumbledore shook his head. "However, I'm sure that if you told them you had more work for them to do, they would be more than willing to accept any training you might care to give."
"That could be useful," Poppy said, thinking hard. There had to be a serious down-side to the job, she just couldn't think of what it might be at the moment. Certainly it sounded almost too good to be true.
"I shall have to think about it, Professor," she said, rising to leave.
"Of course, my dear, of course. I await your pleasure." And with that, she and Dumbledore had parted company.
Eventually, she'd been unable to discover any significant negatives to the job, except that she would be on her own, without the collegial atmosphere of St. Mungo's. Her career would effectively stall, but then again, she'd never really wanted to ascend the heights of the Healer ladder. She'd seen that Senior Healers did less and less healing and more and more paperwork as they progressed, and the very thought left her cold. So, she'd 'only' be a 'School Nurse'...she'd never lack for patients, the paperwork would be minimal, and she'd been promised the chance to offer courses in basic Healing at regular intervals.
All in all, she'd been happy during her time at Hogwarts. Granted, she'd seen the Basic Healing elective wax and wane in popularity, but those students who had bothered to think about their lives after Hogwarts had frequently written owls thanking her for her common-sense, useful course (especially the new mothers, who swore by Poppy's anti-colic potion). And, she'd never been bored, not with the wide range of injuries that the students managed to inflict upon each other. She'd even kept up a fairly robust academic life, merely by writing up the more esoteric cases she'd had to deal with and then publishing them in the Cup and Leech—Britain's premiere wizarding medical journal. The Headmaster was always generous in giving her time away to attend seminars throughout the UK (so long as she was available by emergency portkey), so she never truly lacked for professional interaction. She also found herself making friends with most of the other faculty and staff, with few exceptions.
Best of all, the paperwork was constant, and rarely beyond what she felt comfortable with.
"I'm telling you, Albus, that boy's been horribly, terribly abused, for years! We have no choice but to inform Wizarding Child Services!"
Poppy was barely holding on to her temper as she addressed the Headmaster.
"Poppy, Harry Potter was raised by his mother's sister's family; they are Muggles, so I rather doubt that..."
"Then notify the Muggle equivalent! I know they have them! Let them meet Harry somewhere, and have a muggle physician examine the boy; he'll find the same things that I did, only it will take him a bit more time. Then, they can have the boy's guardians arrested, and hopefully locked up until they're old and gray!"
"I'm afraid it's not that simple, Poppy," the Headmaster said sadly. "Harry must remain at his relatives house over the summer for at least the next few years."
"ALBUS! You can't mean that!" Pomphrey screeched, completely shocked. "I...I forbid it! It violates everything I believe in! Act of Secrecy be damned, my Oath as a Healer demands that I do everything possible to prevent that child from going back to that environment! If you won't take the proper steps, then by Merlin, I will!" With that, she spun on her heel and made to leave the Headmaster's office.
"Obliviate." The Headmaster's spell froze the Healer in her tracks. "I'm sorry, Poppy, but it really is for the Greater Good. Look at me." Poppy turned and met the Headmaster's eyes, the stunning effects of the mind-altering spell leaving her a thoughtless automaton. "Now, I want you to listen to me very carefully..."
In her office, Poppy Pomphrey put the finishing touches on the first of what would be many notes in Harry Potter's medical file. She never realized that the results of her initial diagnostic scan—done routinely on every child at some point during their first year at Hogwarts—weren't in the usual place in the chart. Nor was her first recommendation sheet, which had run to almost three feet of parchment.
What she signed, instead, was a minor injury report. Yes, the boy was a bit small for his age, but she planned only to follow his weight every few months; Hogwarts food should take care of that easily enough. She didn't understand why the boy would choose muggle glasses over magical correction of his vision, but she believed that she'd offered (and been declined). Oh well, it was his choice, of course.
Really, though, he was a bit scrawny, and she momentarily considered putting him on nutrient potions, then discarded the idea.
No, he really didn't need them. He'd be just fine, she needn't worry.
The phrases kept repeating in her head. He'd be just fine.
There was no need for her to worry.
He'd be just fine. No need to worry.
Just fine.
No worries.
A/N: This was inspired by Laume's "Cracked", which is chapter #29 in her Plot Bunny Storage box. Like that most excellent work, it fits within the canon, but answers some questions as to just what happened 'off screen' of the books themselves.
It's always bothered me that such a dedicated healer as Poppy could fail to miss the signs of child abuse in Harry. Yes, I realize that it was necessary for the plot, but it's one of the more far-fetched omissions in canon. The explanation that fits best, in my opinion, is that Dumbledore used some combination of Legilimency, the Imperious curse and/or other spells to compel Poppy to overlook the blindingly obvious, in complete disregard to the strictures and Oaths of the healing profession. Of course, I've always been a proponent of the manipulative (if not Evil) Dumbledore, so that may just be me.
I'd be interested to see more of this type of 'off screen' stories; I know they're out there, I just can't remember where. Perhaps some eager young soul would consider starting a Community of such...? {hint, hint}