Beta: Dark Empress V hug

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Chapter Two: Patient X

Hermione's first shift began at six o'clock the next morning. She and twenty other volunteers who started this Monday assembled in the entrance hall of St. Mungo´s Hospital, where they were welcomed by head nurse Claris.

Nurse Claris was an unkempt, 50 year old witch. She had been in charge of the nurses for a long time and everything had to be done effectively and according to her strict rules.

No matter how much stress the personnel was under and how many patients they had to take care of… The best possible help had to be given to every single patient, she said to the listeners. However, these days, this was a poor care. That is why voluntary helpers were needed so badly. Because every patient in the hospital was entitled to human dignity and adequate care.

All of them nodded proudly. Yes, they would help Voldemort's victims and they would make sure that every patient regained his or her dignity.

Then they were given a tour of the hospital. Hermione was appalled by the conditions. There were nowhere near enough nurses or healers… or cleaning staff. An offensive smell of blood, urine, dried sanies and vomit pervaded the air, so she could barley breathe. Everywhere she looked, she saw people standing around with perplexed expressions on their faces, wondering who they were and what they had done under the Imperius curse.

The sickrooms had been magically enlarged, so they could fit up to 12 people. But this meant that none of the twelve patients in each of the rooms could enjoy even a wink of sleep or a shred of peace and privacy. And among all the groans, screams and the smell bustled the white-clad nurses, who seemed to be able to do nothing more than give increasing amounts of drugs to the suffering patients.

It took Hermione exactly two hours to get on nurse Claris' bad side. Claris had been doing this job the same way for more than 30 years, but Hermione always had some suggestions on how the work could be even more effective and what Claris could do better.

The tall gray bun on Claris' head made her look like an older Marge Simpson. With each new suggestion, she became more and more reserved.

About eight o'clock in the morning, Claris blew a fuse. She yelled at Hermione as if she were a sergeant in the military… that was probably exactly the way Claris saw this position.

Since Hermione claimed to know everything, there was no need for Claris to teach her anything. Hermione would receive a special task. She (Claris) was not in the mood to bear the criticism of an 18-year-old brat. Therefore, Hermione was to go to the cellar to get further instructions.

Hermione was angry but proud of her courage to stand up to this old, stubborn dictator of a nurse and marched straight to the basement level.

Although the clash with Claris had happened just five minutes ago, Hermione was already awaited by another nurse.

"How do you do? I'm Nurse Helen. You must be Miss Granger?" said a tall witch with short blonde hair, who looked like she was in her forties. Nurse Helen appeared to be friendlier than Claris, but she was also very serious.

The young woman nodded. "Yes. I'm here because… Nurse Claris thought I should help you."

Helen's lips curled into a sneering smile. "Oh, of course… Nurse Claris. You were fast, young lady. Most new people here don't manage to make her this angry in such a short time." She smirked "Never mind. Yes, we really have work for you. Follow me, please."

Helen walked rapidly through a long, dark corridor. Hermione followed her until they stopped in front of a big stone door which reminded Hermione of a dungeon-entrance. The older woman pulled out her wand, showed her the necessary hand movements, told her the appropriate spell and opened the door. "You will have to hand in your wand at head nurse Claris' office. You have to use a special hospital wand during your working time. This is the maximum-security wing of the hospital. Usually we don't keep patients here. However, under these circumstances, we have to. This place is reserved for people who must be isolated from the rest of the sick."

An icy shiver ran down Hermione's back. "A quarantine ward? Are the people here contagious?" she asked, frightened. Did Claris send her here to take care of terminally ill patients, hoping Hermione would contract a disease? But Helen shook her head, which calmed Hermione down a bit. "No, no... It's something else…well, the nurses on the upper floors don't want to agitate their patients. We cannot let him stay upstairs with the others. It would cause to much agitation and anxiety. This way please" Helen guided her through a slightly less dark corridor illuminated by candles burning in sconces on the walls. Much to her surprise, Hermione noticed that two Aurors were stationed outside one of the doors, obviously guarding it. Helen and Hermione approached them.

The Aurors nodded to Helen, and Hermione thought she detected apprehension in their expressions.

"How many patients are down here?" Hermione wanted to know. The corridor appeared to be deserted. Here was no one there but Hermione, Helen and the two Aurors by the door. The hustle and bustle of the upper floors was all but a distant memory.

"Only one, actually" replied Helen, paused a moment and pointed to the door with the Aurors in front. "I told you, it's only one person, but we have to keep him away from everything and everyone else. To ensure their safety and because all the nurses refused to be near him. Even the healers are making up excuses because they don't want to look after him too often. Which means…almost never." Helen gave her a cheerless smile. "You've made Claris pretty furious. Unfortunately because of this, you will now have to do something nobody else in this hospital wants to do and it won't be easy."

Hermione still did not understand. "Why are the Aurors guarding the patient? Is he dangerous or is he IN danger?

Helen shrugged. „In a way, both. " A suspicion came to the young Gryffindor's mind. "Is he a Death-Eater? Is that why the other war victims don't want to be near him?" Helen seemed to think about this for a moment, and then she nodded shortly. "You could say so. Come on. I will tell you about your job now, Miss Granger." Helen directed Hermione into what was obviously a stockroom. Hundreds of blankets, mattresses, detergents and cleaning supplies were stacked neatly in big lockers. Picking out some items for Hermione, Helen started to explain, always anxious not to look at the other girl's face. "Well, he's been here since the battle of Hogwarts. At first they thought he was dead, but after the healers examined him, it turned out they'd been mistaken. He was in a coma, of course, critically ill. So they brought him to St. Mungo´s because… well, the Ministry doesn't want the wizarding community to know that he is still alive."

Hermione was astonished by what she had heard. Who could it be? Judging from the way Helen's voice trembled when she spoke about him, he had to be a very high ranking Death-Eater. "Of course, they also considered bringing him to Azkaban, but since the Dementor rebellion and all the explosions, the security arrangements don't seem to be enough to hold him."

Hermione was definitely alarmed now. Surely, Azkaban had suffered some damages, but could it be possible that such a heavily guarded prison was not secure enough for this patient? Who was he? Rodolphus Lestrange, Yaxley, Nott…in her mind, she went over all the Death-Eater names she was able to connect with a face.

"He was in a coma for four weeks, but woke up a few days ago. Even before that, nobody wanted to be close to him, but now less than ever. The personnel fears him." Helen's tone sounded casual, but Hermione was shocked to discover traces of fear in her voice. "Is he dangerous? Does he attack the staff?" enquired the young witch. Helen shook her head pensively. "No, he does not do anything at all. But the point is not what he does now, it's what he did in his past. Naturally, we took his wand away. But who knows what he is able to do without it? He is very weak and we put some spells on him which caused almost complete paralysis. He can only move his head. And he doesn't speak, even though he can." Helen put some fresh bedcovers on the trolley and moved on to another rack; there she collected washclothes, towels and personal care products. "The aim is not to heal him. We only have to keep him alive until he has been interrogated. The Wizengamot will execute him after his trial."

Hermione winced. Until now, she had thought that the Dementor's Kiss was the most severe penalty in wizarding Britain. The ultimate punishment for the worst criminals.

The blond witch rummaged in another rack for potions and ointments. "You have to stay with him for about two hours a day, six days a week, but not on Sundays. This is going to be awful. He stinks. Well, you have to know…we swaddle him, because he cannot move... And because no one wants to be close to him, he wears the same diaper all day. This is rather unpleasant to us. You're allowed to use magic to protect your nose."

Hermione was outraged and wanted to say something. One diaper a day sounded definitely ignoble, even for this patient, but Helen did not give her time to comment. "Except for those two hours, nobody else will be in this room with him. We tried to put him on a drip, but somehow he always managed it to dispose of the needles, so you'll have to feed him. You're allowed to use the Imperius and the Cruciatus curses. You are also allowed to use other punishments if they seem appropriate. The point is only to keep him alive for the next few months. Make sure that he does not commit suicide. He shall be condemned before he dies. That is important to the Ministry. He shall not kill himself before he is tried. Furthermore, he knows a lot of things that are of interest to the Ministry. Unfortunately, he hasn't spoken at all so far. If he does, you'll have to note everything down. Even if he talks in his sleep."

Helen had completed her work. She pushed the trolley slowly towards the Aurors while she finished her speech. "You'll have to lock the doors magically every time you enter or leave the room. The Aurors will always be outside the door. If something dangerous happens, or if you feel threatened, just send a signal with your wand and they'll come in and help you… or rescue you. Whatever happens, don't be afraid. They won´t leave you alone, but normally you're the only one in this room to take care of him.

Each day you have to put him out of bed and sit him on a chair to exercise him. When the trial starts, he will have to at least be able to sit without falling. Make him able to participate in the trial, that's our aim." Helen rolled her eyes. "But it's nonsense, if you ask me. He does not talk to anybody. However, those are the instructions. So, sit him on the chair, put clean sheets on the bed, wash him, swaddle him, and if you see any bedsores, rub them with this salve." Helen showed her a small brown pot. "Actually, we don´t move him enough, but the salve is high potent. You only have to apply it once a day. Aside from that, try to feed him. There's no need to fatten him up, he just must not starve. Don't look into his eyes. Don't talk to him. Write a report each day. We must know if we have to increase security. Right now, it seems that he is not able to move. It's safe to touch him, but I'm afraid you will be revolted. If you suspect that he can move his body, tell us, and we will put more powerful spells on him. Did you get everything?"

Helen pushed the trolley over to the young volunteer, smiled at her and stopped beside the door. After all that she had heard, Hermione felt rather queasy. It couldn't have been worse to have to take care of a tyrannosaurus rex, but she nodded faintly. It was time to call on the famous Gryffindor courage.

The blond nurse squeezed Hermoine's hand. "I have to go upstairs now. You can always find me in the spell-damage-ward, if you have more questions. Oh, there is one more thing. This patient has no name in this hospital. We just call him Patient X. It's clear that you're not allowed to tell anyone about him." Helen admonished severely. "No one must know his identity." Hermione nodded again.

A nameless menace lurked behind this door. Hermione's worst fears flashed through her mind… Then she turned to the entrance, hearing Helen's steps fade away down the corridor.

"We're going to open the door now. Send the signal when you're finished, okay?" said the Auror on the right. She nodded faintly. The door opened with a dreadful squeak and Hermione entered the sickroom, which reminded her strongly of a dungeon cell. She ignited the candles on the walls with her wand and walked further inside.

The patient lay in the opposite end of the room, concealed by a white curtain placed around the bed. Hermione approached slowly, and although she was forbidden to talk to this person, she called out a greeting. Maybe she did it to reassure him… or herself.

"Hello, how are you? I'm Hermione Granger. I'm going to take care of you from now on." She really attempted to make her voice sound friendly, but her anxiety cut through the facade. Slowly, she pulled aside the white curtain that separated the area around the bed from the rest of the room.

A scream of horror echoed off the stone walls. Hermione staggered back several steps and tripped over the trolley which nurse Helen had left. Her hands convulsively grabbed some towels which had tumbled to the floor. Pressing them tightly to her chest like a shield, she inched towards the bed. She gasped loudly and was no longer sure if the figure lying there, staring motionless and numb out of the cellar window was a hallucination conjured up by sudden insanity or the man she supposed him to be.

Lord Voldemort.