The ward was quiet. Gilderoy had just dropped out of his snoring stage into the deepest of the Dreamless Sleep. It was the part of the night that Treasa detested. Nothing to be done but pace up and down between the beds, straightening sheets and replenishing water glasses. The 'very witching hour of the night,' as the Muggles called it, was actually painfully boring.
She straightened the curtains around two adjacent empty beds. This week had not been an easy one. Two days ago she'd been called in to cover part of the afternoon shift because dear old Fiona Featherton had passed on. The feisty witch had been consigned to St. Mungo's by her children when she reached the venerable age of 170 and refused to give up Apparating. After several mild splinchings, her children had sent her to St. Mungo's with three irrevocably splinched toes and an extremely generous donation to the hospital in exchange for round-the-clock supervision. Treasa would miss Fiona's late night antics – chasing a 170-year-old sleepwalking witch around the ward at least helped pass the time. But she'd died peacefully, a mischievous little smile still on her lips when Treasa helped lay her out.
That death had been followed the next night by old Bilbius Farscythe. The Unspeakable had been declining for weeks, but none of them realized how bad he had become until Treasa found him stiff and still in his bed at the end of her shift. She felt guilty for the small measure of relief mixed with the sadness. Bilbius had been the reason the Death Eaters came every day. Perhaps, now that the poor old man was gone, she wouldn't have to keep hiding. Every time the thought occurred, she quashed it, focusing instead on working with her other patients and providing the best care she could muster. She knew better than to believe that any decision about her work was to be made unilaterally now that she was a member of the Order. She'd sent a letter to Dumbledore the morning after Bilbius died. It was up to him to decide where she was most useful.
She paced back up the ward, checking every chart and patient. Five weeks on the night shift and she was teetering on the brink of madness. Waiting was not a skill she'd spent time cultivating. She was much more adept at acting, even if the action was futile. Her mother had said it was this odd characteristic that fueled her desire to work in the Incurables ward. Treasa grimaced. That was perhaps part of it, but her parents had never understood the deeper desire to help those others could not. She pulled Gilderoy's blanket closer to his chin, stretching the wrinkles out of the fabric, and arranged the water glasses on the bedside table so they were in a perfectly straight line. Then again, perhaps her mother was right.
Alice Longbottom's chart had a note that the last of the candy her son had brought be staggered over the next few days. Treasa sighed, looking at the twisted wax-paper pieces scattered across the bedspread. Neville Longbottom had come with a mountain of sweets on the morning school began, and the Healers had been doling it out bit by bit to give Alice more time to enjoy her son's generosity.
"Your favorite, Alice," she said brightly, picking one up to examine it in the moonlight from the window. "Neville always brings plenty of Droobles, doesn't he?"
Alice's face lit up and she nodded. Treasa smiled, patting her friend's arm. She'd seen Neville once this summer, on the lad's birthday in July. The impulse to speak to him had been instantly quelled by the dour appearance of Madam Longbottom at his side. Besides, he'd probably not take much comfort from hearing that his mother's schoolchum was sorry his parents were worse than dead.
Alice had been having moments of clarity. The occasional comment, a memory she was able to tell, a response to a Healer's question, an overall more lucid demeanor – the Healers were undecided whether this was a sign of improvement or merely incidental. Treasa had had the good fortune to experience a few such moments and had chosen only to hope for the next one rather than build theories on their significance.
She settled on the edge of the bed, pointing out the window. "It's a full moon tonight. Pretty, don't you think?"
Alice followed her gaze and nodded eagerly, but her eyes were empty. "Lovely."
A small sigh escaped. "Yes, it is."
Alice settled back on her pillows, a peaceful, delighted smile crinkling the corners of her eyes. Even at Hogwarts, she'd spent many nights at the windows of Ravenclaw Tower, "listening to the moon," as she called it. Treasa rubbed her forefinger and thumb along her brows, flinching at the memories.
"We used to sit like this, you and I," she said quietly. "Any time one of us had a problem, we'd crawl into that bay window in our dormitory and whisper about it all night. The first time you realized you had a crush on Frank –"
There was a soft laugh from Alice. Treasa whipped her head around. Alice was looking over at her husband and then back to Treasa with girlish diffidence.
"It took me three nights of talking to convince you to give him a chance," Treasa continued, hope rising. "You were so worried about dating a Gryffindor – thought no one but a Ravenclaw could understand you."
No response other than another blush from Alice, whose attention had been diverted back to the moon.
"Then when we were all in NEWT Potions together and he said the Amortentia smelled like your delphinium perfume – actually said it out for the whole class to hear! I thought you were going to faint right then, for certain." Treasa relished the memory, letting the years slip away with a giggle. "O'course, later, I thought you'd never stop talking about it. The rest of the class was properly impressed, too. Lily Evans was all agog - I think James was afraid he'd have to propose in the Great Hall at dinner, just to keep up. He wasn't the only one with a bad reaction to it, I might add –"
"Severus."
This time Treasa jumped. Alice was looking at her with the knowing smile she had worn in Ravenclaw Tower.
"Severus looked as if he would vomit right into his cauldron," Alice said, her voice stronger and clearer than Treasa had heard it in a decade.
"I'm surprised you had eyes for anyone but Frank," Treasa teased breathlessly, watching her face for a hint of the cloudiness to return.
Alice leaned forward. "I didn't – you told me later. You noticed him quite a bit that first term of NEWTS."
"Why I –"
"Don't deny it! You couldn't when I asked you about it then, you know. It wasn't until you caught him trying to hex James and Frank behind Slughorn's back that you stopped trying to 'befriend' him."
Alice's giggle was achingly familiar. As uncomfortable as the subject was, Treasa refused to let the moment end. "I just thought that if he had some friends outside of those horrid Slytherin boys…"
"He'd turn out to be a very sweet little genius who needed a girl like you to make him happy and teach him how to get along with others?"
Treasa could feel the blush building over her ears and spreading to her cheeks. "Not at all." Alice merely grinned and looked back at the moon. "He seemed lonely, is all. I thought perhaps if he had friends who weren't obsessed with the Dark Arts, he might be less…" Her voice trailed off. She'd never been able to put a word to what she hoped he'd be. She'd given up looking for one before Christmas holidays their sixth year, and had spent the last 18 months of their schooling content to acknowledge his existence only when forced.
She gritted her teeth. "Besides, we were talking of you and Frank."
Alice didn't respond. Treasa leaned forward. Her friend's eyes were cloudy, her expression blandly happy.
"The moon is lovely," Alice murmured, turning unrecognizing eyes on her.
"Yes, it is."
She ought to mark the incident on Alice's chart. Treasa stood, Summoning the clipboard from the foot of the bed. The quill hovered over the page for a long moment. How did one clinically describe that Alice had been Alice again? Not just as an answer to a question, but by her own volition.
A silvery flash by the door interrupted her musing. A phoenix Patronus was skimming through the crack in the doorframe and gliding toward her. She recognized it before Dumbledore's voice sounded.
"Death Eaters are on their way. Order members will try to intercept them. Hide immediately."
The clipboard and quill dropped from suddenly nerveless fingers. The Patronus vaporized as she fumbled in her apron pockets. She hadn't brought a vial of Polyjuice – she'd quit carrying it after she'd switched to night shifts. Almost without her willing it, her feet began to move toward the door at the other end of the ward. Perhaps she could make it to another floor before they arrived…
Alice let out a startled cry as the light from the window was blotted out. Treasa clutched her wand and turned as the Death Eaters broke the window by Alice's bed and swarmed in. She ducked next to one of the beds, hoping beyond hope that the Order would arrive before they made it to where she hid. Even with the masks, she recognized Macnair and Nott, both of whom would recognize her instantly. Four other figures were with them – easily enough to overpower all the Healers in the building, even if she could somehow contact them.
They ignored Alice's frightened babbling, much to Treasa's relief, heading instead for the curtained-off bed that had been Bilbius's. It was dangerously close to the one she was hiding beside – only one down and against the other wall. She clutched her wand, desperately trying to think of a hex or jinx that would stop them. Nothing she could think of was strong enough without being disastrous to more than just the Death Eaters in the ward.
"Where's the Healer?" One of the masked figured muttered, his voice deep and unfamiliar. "Didn't they tell us to keep an eye out for the night Healer?"
Macnair answered. "Sweep the ward. If there is a Healer in here, we need to find him and wipe his memory before we leave with the old Secret-Keeper."
Treasa barely had time to wonder what their reaction would be when they realized Bilbius wasn't in the ward before the crashing sounds of more people coming in through the window distracted them all. Flashes of light came from both sides as the newcomers attempted to Disarm the Death Eaters and the Death Eaters sent jinxes and curses flying their way. In the confusion, Treasa recognized Kingsley Shacklebolt's stolid form and the tall outline of Emmeline Vance. She couldn't be sure, but it looked as if Bill Weasley might be a member of the party as well.
The patients were starting to waken, adding their own cacophony to the scene. She sent Silencing Charms around the room, hoping they would land on the appropriate targets. Most of the patients were bed-ridden, a blessing she'd never really considered before this moment.
Frank Longbottom had jumped out of bed and was brandishing the quill Treasa had dropped as if it were a wand. One of the Death Eaters noticed and turned, wand at the ready.
"No!" Treasa screamed, flinging a non-verbal Stupefy at him.
The man ducked, catching the slightest edge of it. He turned, off-balance, and pointed at her. "Over there - the Healer!"
All the combatants' attention zeroed in on her. Treasa threw a Shield Charm up as several jets of light streaked toward her. They rebounded, smashing a few water pitchers and drenching several patients. A figure from the knot of Order members dashed toward her, flinging a hex or two back at the Death Eaters as he came. Treasa's eyes were on Macnair, the closest Death Eater. He was squinting in the semi-darkness even as he sent several hexes toward her in quick succession. She dodged them all, doing her best to keep her face hidden. The only thing that could make this moment worse would be having one of them recognize her.
Bill Weasley dove into a crouched position, yanking her down with him. "Hello, Miss Shannon," he said, flashing a broad grin before turning to cast another Protego.
Treasa took aim at Nott, only to have Bill push her hand down.
"You really ought to stay back."
"Why?"
"Because –" Bill gritted out between spells. "It's much – more – important that you – stay hidden so they don't realize who – you – are."
He risked a glance back at her. "Dumbledore said Bilbius died yesterday, so this raid is pointless – unless they see you."
Bill turned back around just in time to catch the edge of a Stunning spell to the side of his head. He slumped down, his wand dropping from a limp hand. Treasa cast a quick Shield Charm as another spell sped toward them. Kingsley Shacklebolt cut in front of them, deflecting the curse. His distraction gave Treasa time to give a cursory examination of Bill's head. No bleeding, not even a lump that she could see. He seemed to be coming around already.
Kingsley dove to the side to avoid a jinx, and three jets of light flew toward them. Treasa attempted another Protego, but her wand wasn't quick enough.
The impact of the Stunners was the last thing she felt as the ward grew dim.
Sunlight was hitting her face, the rays strong enough to glow red behind her closed eyelids. Treasa forced them open, wincing as the full strength of the light hit her eyes.
A dark figure immediately stepped in front of her, blocking out the light.
"Feeling better?"
Emmeline. The panic coursing through her limbs slowed. She blinked, taking in her surroundings. She was at home, lying on the sofa in her den. A throw pillow was shoved under her head, forcing her neck into an uncomfortably upright position.
Emmeline drew the shades and came to help her sit up, plumping the pillow to support her back. "Well then, you gave us quite a scare."
"What happened?" The first thing on her mind was Bill. "Is anyone hurt?"
"Aside from you? Well, Bill has a monstrous headache, he says, but he went in to work this morning just the same. Everyone else is fine. We chased those scoundrels out of there and had the place back in order in less than 10 minutes." Emmeline gave what Treasa assumed to be the dignified version of a giggle. "Mad-Eye was quite impressed with our performance."
Treasa pushed at the blanket covering her legs. "Well done, then," she said thickly, trying to sort through her memories of the previous night.
"Not so fast, if you please," Emmeline commanded. She drew the blanket back up. "You're to stay put today – Dumbledore's orders. Molly will be along in an hour or so to make you some dinner."
"Stay put?" Treasa repeated, mind finally settling into its normal rhythm. "Did someone recognize –"
"Not that we could tell, but it was dicey there getting you out so I could Disapparate you. No one knew St. Mungo's had Anti-Apparition charms."
"Protection for our patients."
"Ah, well, Dumbledore says it would be best for you to stay out of harm's way for a few days. The Death Eaters will be more worried about losing their source of information than anything else, I'd say."
Treasa had been performing a self-examination. She looked up at her guard, battling annoyance. "I don't feel any broken bones. Why must I 'stay put' on the couch? Surely you don't think a Death Eater is hiding in my bedroom."
"No, but three Stunners is quite a blow, dearie. When Madam Pomfrey heard about it, she very nearly came to watch over you herself. She gave strict orders for you not to exert yourself for a few days. Said you were young and strong enough to withstand them, but you might be a bit weak."
"I don't feel weak," Treasa snapped. She sat forward, intent on getting up. Her head swam. She leaned back carefully, avoiding Emmeline's knowing gaze.
Emmeline settled on a wingback chair across from her, watching with all the protectiveness of a very high-society mother hen. Treasa squeezed her eyes shut, drawing a deep breath. Her left side was a bit sore, as if she'd run into a doorframe. To be expected, she reminded herself.
"How did you know the Death Eaters were coming?" She asked, eyes still closed as she pressed at the sore spot.
"Well, Dumbledore said he'd 'been told' about the plan weeks ago, so we've all been waiting for it. I assume he got the information from Snape." Emmeline tilted her head thoughtfully. "I must confess, I don't like the man much, but his information has certainly been invaluable."
Treasa winced. Of course it had been Severus. One more rescue she could lay at his door.
"What time is it?" She asked, glancing about for her clock. Her eyes still weren't focusing properly. "I should be getting ready for work."
"Out of the question, Treasa. Dumbledore sent a note to your superiors. You're not to leave this flat until we know you're safe."