Thanx a lot to AllegroAssai who helped me with this chapter *kiss*


Definition: Stupor

A stupor is a psychological state of mind. The person concerned is captured in his/her own mind. The person appears motionless and numb, unable to be roused by any form of external stimuli.

This can occur during bouts of clinical depression or schizophrenia. It is an extreme psycho-social escape reaction from an environment experienced as overpowering.

The psyche says "good night" and switches the light of perception off. A dreamless sleep with open eyes, because it would be too terrible to see the world around you.

These states of mind were observed in concentration camps. The prisoners went numb and fell into a stupor or, even worse, a catatonic numbness, because they weren't able to take the harassment in there.

You cannot switch this state of mind on or off by yourself. It´s not something the person decides. It's rather an automatism.

It's a psychological survival mechanism.


Chapter 4: Numb

Hermione went upstairs to meet Helen in the spell-damages, but she could not find her. She had almost given up when she saw the tall, blond woman who went straight to the locked ward.

"Nurse Helen…" she shouted close to desparation across the corridor. Helen's head jerked round sharply. Upstairs, far away enough from the horror,she didn't came across as serious and tense, appeared gentler and downright glad to see Hermione.

Had she thought that Hermione would drop dead when she saw the patient?

In a motherly manner, she wrapped her arm around the young girl's shoulders and huggedher.

"Done with him?"

Hermione nodded, blinking back tears. Yes, she was done with him, done with her work and felt so tired and old as if she hadn't slept in years… though it was only 11 am in the morning.

"I… yes, everything is done. But it is so early, Nurse Claris said the helpers would have to work eight hours a day. What shall I do next? May I accompany you?" Helen gave her a friendly smile and nodded. With a quick flick of her wand, she opened the ward-door, let her and Hermione in and lockedthe door again.

"Actually, you could go home. He is your only patient. All you have to do is look after him for about two hours a day. When you have finished your work, whatever time of day it is, you are done. It is still the hardest job in this hospital." For a very short moment, hardly visible,Helen looked even more serious and disgusted than she did downstairs, but not for long and the expression in her face became commiserative when she smiled at the still trembling Hermione. She guided her into another corridor, which was considerably friendlier and lighter then the corridor in the…dungeon below.

"However," said Helen, "I understand that you want to talk to someone after this… experience. Well, first I have to go to the Longbottoms to give them their special potions. You come along with me... it won't take long. Afterwards I can take a break so we could go to the Visitors' Tearoom and we can have a talk, okay?"

Hermione nodded automatically. Everything was all right with her as long she hadn't to stay alone with her thoughts. Longbottoms… LONGBOTTOMS? Neville's Parents?

YES!

Helen guided her in a kitschy room, which was more similar to a children´s room than a sickroom. A coloured radio played children's music and over there, near the window, stood Neville's father and, if Hermione wasn't mistaken, tried to water a flower painted on the wall with a toy watering can. Not far from him sat a woman with short greying hair in a rocking chair, an absent expression on her face, and listened to the music. The blond nurse appeared to be so much more lively than this morning. With a jolly abuzz, she waved with two phials in their face around and piped "Frank! Alice! It is time for your drinks. You want to be big and strong, don't you?" Helen laughed girlish, then served the potions to the two people.

This childish treatment felt inappropriate to Hermione; the Longbottoms were in their forties. Neville's parents gulped down their potions obediently and went back to their places, without establishing eye-contact with either Helen or Hermione.

Nevertheless, the blond nurse was absolutely proud of her potion, because this potion, and only this potion was the reason for the mind-blowing improvements in the behaviour of her grey-haired "children". It would cause them to be a little more responsive every day.

Sympathy overwhelmed Hermione because now she saw Neville's dear face in her mind. Surely, his parents had been strong when they withstood those curses, but at what price? Neville surely had missed out on a lot in his past. Yes…poor Neville. And the reason was HIM. Her patient.

Helen's face expression grew more serious while she waved her wand to make the beds of Nevilles parents. "I know, you´d rather be here, upstairs. Wouldn't you?" Hermione shrugged and nodded faintly. Helen kept glancing at the bed sheets, which were swirling over the beds.

"The voluntary helpers, every single one of them, came here to help the victims of the war. But in some way you're doing this too." Now she turned around to the astonished looking Hermione. "Let's put it this way ... All the people in this hospital, look at Frank and Alice, almost everyone is here because of him. These are all victims of him. Many were captured and tortured under his regime. These people deserve rehabilitation and retaliation. We have to ensure that he is sane enough to stand trial. He has to be alive to be sued and killed, yes killed. Then justice has won. The people all over the world shall see that our country judges him, his mindset and his doings fiercely." Passionately she added: "We don't forgive…this thing. What would we look like if we just simply did away with him?

No… we're not like him. Quick and easy? Never… he'd be glad if we did it this way, so no. His victims deserve the chance to spit in his face before he dies." Helen stopped for a moment, the wild expression in her eyes betrayed the passionate hatred she felt for this man. A pillow, changing it's own pillowcase, floated over her head. "An official condemnation is needed to get financial help from other governments. The new minister told us so. That's the actual reason why he is still alive, why we didn't let him die, we need much help from other countries to pay amends to his victims and for the rebuilding. Yeah, in more than a hundred years people will know what he was nothing than a dangerous madman. Fullstop."

Somehow, this course of action sounded reasonable enough to Hermione, but there was one question left. "But why is he said to be dead? Why won't the Minister inform his people about Voldemort's whereabouts and his upcoming execution?"

The mattress floated aloft, turned upside down and fresh linen, also flying, was put on it. Now Helen paid full attention to Hermione. " We do not want him to become a martyr. He shall not have the chance to give pitiable, pathetic interviews to the press. Maybe he would rouse compassion when the people saw the bag of bones he is. That's the opinion of the new minister. Also,nobody knows how many Death Eaters there are still out there. It is quite possible that some of them would try and free him. No! We keep him hidden until the trial is over and after that, he will be executed on a secret date. It's better if no one knows about him at all." Proud abouther knowledge, Helen patted Hermione on the back and smiled.

The young Gryffindor looked at Frank and Alice. The nurse did not notice them any longer, as she had other work to do. After a patient's basic needs were cared for, he or she seemed to turn into furniture for the staff. Assembly-line work. No time to take care for the patients sufficiently. No, Helen was busy rubbing salve on a grass-green furuncle in another patients face. The salve seemed to be similar to the one Hermione used a wee while ago.

Only one had a nurse to his own . Him, of all people… as if he deserved it. What an utter mockery that was…

Helen took Hermione by the arm, waved goodbye to her "children" and guided Hermione across the whole hospital to the visitors tearoom. There she ordered tea and sandwiches for both of them while Hermione looked for an empty table.

xXx

Sitting there, more then a bit confused, the young woman sipped her tea thoughtfully, not noticing it was rather too hot to drink. "Do you know what I keep asking myself? He is so… apathetic. He didn't seem to register me at all. Could it be possible that maybe… well, maybe he got brain damaged at the duel?"

Helen straightened herself, shook her head and narrowed her eyes. "NO! AS IF!" she said a bit too loud for an eye-to-eye conversation. Some heads turned around, so Helen continued in a quieter voice. "The healers examined him thoroughly. The same old story there… no reaction. No… he thinks he is on stage. This woman healer called it a "stupor". Balderdash, if you ask me. He's just offended and petulant. He has no bees in his bonnet. He is still too lazy and tooproud to talk to us. He probably thinks we are below him."

Angrily, Helen bit the head of her roll off, still chewing she carried on speaking after a while . "At least, he managed to ditch the infusions. Nobody knows how he did it. We have never seen him lift a single finger. Nevertheless, when he woke up, these things disappeared. Last week we tried it three times... three times! But every single time we turned our back, he managed to let it disappear …and he still lay there as motionless as always. Creepy, if you ask me ".

Hermione was agitated, too when she thought about what Voldemort could do with her when she was with him… without a single motion. Even though she didn't like to hear it, Helen carried on with her warnings.

"I tell you, take care. I've heard some stories about him… It wouldn't surprise me if he could kill people just with a glance. Or maybe astral-movement. He certainly can do those things. That's why he is so numb, his soul is not inside him, it's upstairs to end what it once began, to kill his victims eventually." Helen knocked so hard on the table that the rolls on the her plate danced.

"But he will try it. Yes… and I'll show him the rewards he gets for it. The Aurors keep a close watch on him twenty-four seven. Apart from that , the staff, all the healers and nurses, won't let him do any more harm. Don't bother… he doesn't deserve it. He's no human being; he's just an evil thing we hide in our cellar."

Hermione shook her bushy head and bit into her sandwich. No, she would not cause trouble. She would try to see him for what he really was… not a human being, just a thing. A dangerous thing, for sure without a soul or any feelings. He… IT…deserved nothing but harm for the rest of his… it's life.

"Has he attacked anyone?" she wanted to know. Helen shook her head once more. "No, weird. Isn´t it? He just lies around and stares into space." Hermione nodded, she knew what Helen was talking about. If he would bluster or rage… then one would know what to be afraid of. But this numbness… he was like a lurking shadow, an unknown harassment… watching for a moment to lure them all into a disaster.

xXx

Lost in thought, Hermione walked along the streets of London. It was so early, 12:30 pm… Tonight Ron invited her, Harry and Ginny out to dinner to celebrate Hermiones first working day… in the Leaky Cauldron… but, no matter. However, they arranged to meet there at around 6pm because they had believed Hermione to have a nine to five. What should she do in the meantime?

Actually, in a way she was glad that her friends were not yet with her. This gave her more time to come up with an excuse. She'd have to tell them why she was not working in the ward they believed her to be working in. She could tell them, that her patient was a known Death Eater, though that would cause anger, too.

Mournfully she thought of the Tonks, Lupin, Sirius, Mad-Eye… or Fred. How funny this boy had been… but they were all dead now, dead like so many other people. Because of him and his gang of assassins. What would her friends say when they found out her set task was to be pampering one of Fred's murderers? Well, they probably would not be quite as outraged.

She was not a friend of lies or secrets, but she felt that this would burden their friendship too much. A term was swirling in her head. Nurse Helen mentioned the word "Stupor", this seemed to be a term to characterise Voldemort's state of mind.

Determinedly, she entered the Leaky Cauldron to walk across it, to reach her wanted destination. Diagon Alley, or rather, a particular store in there. She aimed to go to Flourish & Blotts to buy some books about care-charms…hoping one of those books would contain a definition of "Stupor". And anyway, there were so many useful things to learn…

No, she did not believe Voldemort could do astral-walkings to attack other people in the hospital. But the people in this country, and in other countries as she heard, suffered so much from him in the past, hence, hundreds of horror stories were told about him…and who could distinguish the truth from the lies?

The healer's opinion seemed to be as important as Helen´s doubts, so she'd have to read stuff about "stupor". Whatever it may be.

An hour and three cups of tea later,Hermione felt almost safe again. She came to rest in a café in the Diagon Alley and was surrounded by pile of books. She was embarrassed to ask the salesman about "stupor" , and so she'd bought half of the medicine and care literature, but not even this was enough, so she bought some interesting looking and expensive-being books about psychology.

Two book towers, each of them ten books high, stood on her right and on her left. Only magic could prevent this avalanche of knowledge from burying her.

These book towers were useful, but expensive in the same way. She'd have to economise. Sure, her parents gave her money and the hospital paid her a small salary, but to be honest, the voluntary helpers were so very popular because they worked for peanuts. Even though Helen reckoned that Hermione could get a bit more… Danger pay? Presumably…

Hermione sighed and shut the tenth book, moaned as she looked at the towers beside her and took the eleventh book. An encyclopedia of psychology… she scrolled to „S" and really, a few pages further she found the searched term.

She read the definition and it gave her something to think about. Pensively, she stirred a sugar cube into her Twining's and added some whole milk.

There was lots of information on stupor : Numbness, mental-escape-reaction, awake – but not available… this appeared to apply to Voldemort's state this morning. It also fit with Harry's scar pain. From time to time it would prickle, but without causing Harry to see real events or feel real emotions.

This sounded correct. Physically alive, but mentally dead.

Had he been kissed by a Dementor? Was this the way those people lived who had been kissed?

Pah… as if.. as if Voldemort even had a soul. With an snarl, she flicked to the next page. As if a Dementor would find anything worth sucking up inside him. Maybe THAT was the reason why they never attacked him… because he had no soul anymore. No… and if he had been kissed by a Dementor, Helen would have known about it.

She concentrated on her book. None of what she read really fit. Schizophrenia… sure, Voldemort was a psychopath, but he was mad in a different way. Sign of a heavy depression? Pah… even a slight depressive mood required more emotional richness then the Dark Lord had ever had.

Nevertheless, here… heavy state of shock. After all, all of his plans were undone , his followers were dead, in Azkaban or denying his presence alltogether… and, of course… in the moment the curse bounced back, he was afraid he had to die… However, how did he manage to get rid of the infusions and the catheters? If she understood this correctly, a person could not choose to be in a stupor or not. She would ask Harry if he had noticed anything strange.

A feeling of deep unease overwhelmed her and she shut this book, too. As if Harry, or any of her friends would be up for a chat about Lord Voldemort's emotions. A good excuse was necessary.

But this question was too important to simply let it go. It could give her the answer she needed; was it possible to do this job without fear and panic, or was she actually risking her life?