Harry and Sirius were able to set the date of the physical for August 14, which would be that Wednesday; Harry was a little dismayed when the person they spoke to on the phone told him he would probably have to be hospitalized for two to three days.

"Why?" he said. "I'm fine!"

"Since this is a child abuse case, the exam will be extensive," the nurse on the phone explained. "You'll have your regular physical on Wednesday, but your doctor will most likely order additional tests."

"Who's his doctor?" asked Sirius.

"Mr. Potter will be seen by Dr. Grant," replied the nurse, "and don't you worry, because Dr. Grant is one of our most qualified pediatricians—and has been for twenty years."

…

On Wednesday morning, Harry grabbed his school bag, in which he had packed some clothes and things for the next couple days he might spend in the hospital. He didn't pack his Prongs toy, even though it might have helped him sleep, because he didn't want people thinking he was a baby.

Mostly, Harry was nervous about meeting Dr. Grant. He kept thinking of the intense medical dramas he had seen on TV. What if Dr. Grant was some sort of sadist, and ordered a bunch of painful tests? Well…he would do that anyway, even if he wasn't a sadist, because Harry did need those tests...

By the time Sirius and Harry got to the waiting room of a children's hospital in London, Harry had Dr. Grant fully envisioned in his head—a evil-looking man with devil horns, wearing glasses and a bloodstained white doctor's smock, brandishing a ten-foot-long needle.

"You look a bit peaky, Harry," Sirius commented as they walked to the front desk.

"Imagine that," said Harry hoarsely.

"Name?" the secretary asked.

"Black," Sirius replied. "We're here for Harry Potter's court-ordered exams."

"Oh yes…" Frowning, the secretary looked up the appointment. "Very well. Have a seat; Dr. Grant will be right with you."

Harry tried to read the magazines in the waiting room (even though they were at least ten years old) but he was too nervous. So he just waited and waited, his stomach tied in knots. And then…

"Mr. Potter?"

Harry was surprised at who he saw in the doorway. Dr. Grant wasn't an evil-looking man with devil horns; in fact, Dr. Grant wasn't a man at all. She was a woman, and she was smiling. Not in an evil way. Just in a nice way. The way Aunt Petunia smiled at Dudley.

"H-Hi," said Harry, still scared.

"You must be Harry," she said kindly, reaching out her hand to shake. "I'm Dr. Elizabeth Grant. Nice to meet you."

"N-Nice to meet you too," Harry told her timidly.

"And you must be Harry's godfather, Sirius Black?" Dr. Grant stuck out her hand a second time, and Sirius shook hands too.

"Yes," he said. "It's a pleasure to meet you. Harry's never been to see the doctor before."

"Well, there's nothing to be afraid of," she said, beckoning the two of them to follow her down a long hallway until they reached her office. She pulled up a chair for Harry, and sat behind her desk; Sirius just stood, hands in his pockets. Harry was beginning to be just a little less afraid of Dr. Grant. She looked to be around her mid-to-late forties; her eyes were a twinkling blue behind her glasses, sort of like Dumbledore's, and her hair was dyed blonde. Her face was a little wrinkled, but you could tell that her wrinkles were only where the smiles had been.

"So…what's the plan for today?" said Sirius.

"Well, first I should ask you some questions about your health, for some background," Dr. Grant began. "For instance…since he's never been to the doctor, I assume he hasn't had his shots?"

"No, his parents took him to the doctor to get his shots when he was a baby," said Sirius. "But he needs his booster shots, I expect."

"I see," said Dr. Grant, nodding and writing something on a clipboard. "We'll also have to draw some blood, of course…Don't look so worried," she added at the look on Harry's face. "We just need to test for malnutrition and vitamin deficiencies…you may have some problems in those areas.

"All right…any recent infections, trauma, illnesses, that sort of thing?" she continued.

"He had a bad bout of flu about a month ago," Sirius told her. "But he's fully recovered. Other than that…?"

"No," said Harry, "there isn't anything."

"Do you have a family history of any serious diseases?" Dr. Grant directed the question at Sirius, who shook his head.

"I'm afraid I know very little about Harry's mother's side of the family, but I knew his father's parents well, and they were pretty healthy overall, no serious hereditary conditions I can think of," said Sirius. "They didn't die natural deaths, but they died of a viral infection as opposed to something hereditary, so that isn't anything we have to worry about…James, Harry's father, was a miracle baby—but I think that was just because his parents were almost old enough to be his grandparents."

"What's a miracle baby?" said Harry.

"It's when a woman is having trouble getting pregnant, or is unlikely to, but then she does," Dr. Grant explained. "But…his parents themselves had no such problems?"

"None at all," said Sirius. "By contrast, Harry was actually unplanned."

"Oh, so that's why they had to get married so young," said Harry.

"Watch a lot of TV, do you?" Sirius said back.

"It's important that we discuss those habits, too," Dr. Grant continued. "Does he watch too much TV? Does he get enough sleep? Do you have a set bedtime for him, Mr. Black?"

"I didn't really need to set one, because he just goes to bed at nine every night on his own," said Sirius. "I think he watched a lot of TV with his aunt and uncle, but that was only because they watched it and never let him have the TV. Right?"

"Yeah," said Harry, "and they turned up the volume really loud, so even when I was locked in my cupboard, I could still hear it. Sirius and I watch TV, but I don't think we watch too much."

"It's recommended for teens and preteens to get about nine hours of sleep per night," Dr. Grant told them. She had looked a little disturbed when she heard about Harry's former living quarters, but she didn't say anything. Instead, she told Harry it was time to get weighed and measured.

Harry was infuriated to find that even though he weighed a little more than when he had first met Sirius, he hadn't grown one bit taller.

"Why can't I grow?" Harry said in frustration, resisting the urge to stamp his foot.

"Well, any sign of puberty yet?" Dr. Grant asked.

"I don't know," said Harry. "Why?"

"Because you likely haven't hit your growth spurt yet," she explained. "That sort of thing usually runs in families."

"Well, then, he can probably expect to hit puberty pretty soon, but I don't think we'll see any drastic height difference until he's about thirteen," said Sirius. "I first met James when he was Harry's age—eleven. He was a little taller and weighed more than Harry does now, but he was deeply loved and properly nourished. In a few years his son will have caught up."

"What about his mother?" said Dr. Grant.

"She was about average," Sirius replied. "So at least we can agree that Harry will grow."

"I'm still going to prescribe a growth supplement for him, though," Dr. Grant told him. "He's still very far behind the growth curve for boys his age. Just take the supplement twice per day for eight weeks. Don't worry, though…" Dr. Grant smiled at Harry. "It comes in kid-approved flavors."

After that, Dr. Grant told Harry she needed to "take his vitals". This sounded more threatening than it actually was. She just recorded his blood pressure and listened to his heart and breathing, took his temperature, and tested his reflexes. When Dr. Grant was looking down his throat, she asked if Harry had been to the dentist.

"No, but he brushes his teeth very well," said Sirius.

"You still need to take him to the dentist, though, in case he has cavities or anything," Dr. Grant said. "Better safe than sorry."

"All right, I'll make an appointment for him to see the dentist before he goes off to school," Sirius replied.

"Now, I need you to be very brave for this next part, Harry," said Dr. Grant in a serious voice.

"What is it?" Harry asked, already dreading whatever it was.

"Shots," she said steadily.

"And not the kind you take at the bar," Sirius added, trying to make a joke of it.

"How many shots do I need?" Harry asked.

"Your godfather has provided the hospital with a list of vaccinations you had received by your last doctor's appointment, when you were fifteen months old," Dr. Grant told him. "Most of these require booster shots, however…so I'm afraid you will be getting a lot of shots today. We won't be doing the blood work until tomorrow."

"Is it going to hurt?" Harry's voice was shaking now.

"Just a little," said Dr. Grant.

"Don't look," Sirius added.

"Sirius, will you…?" Harry stuck out his hand, and Sirius held it; then Harry squeezed his eyes shut. Everyone always said you got butterflies in your stomach when you were nervous, but it didn't really feel like that. It felt more like a jump or a lurch. And it kept happening as Harry anticipated the shot.

"Ready?" Dr. Grant was heard saying.

No, of course Harry wasn't ready. But he nodded anyway; he wasn't a baby either. No matter how much it hurt, he wouldn't make a sound, he would just sit here on the exam table and—

"OWWWW!" Harry howled.

That did hurt—and more than just a little! It felt like when Dudley poked Harry with Aunt Petunia's sewing needles (something he had really enjoyed doing).

"Hold still," said Sirius, putting his other hand on Harry's shoulder. "It's almost over."

"There we are…" Dr. Grant put a Band-Aid on Harry's arm, then got her next shot.

"Those hurt," Harry told her, still clinging onto Sirius's hand as tight as he could, as if that could stop the shots from hurting.

"I'm sorry, Harry, but you need these vaccines," Dr. Grant said. "With each year you put off your booster shots, the more likely you are to get sick."

Harry didn't want to get sick, so he closed his eyes again and let her get on with it. The next shot hurt just as much as the first, only it was kind of worse, because Harry knew it would hurt this time.

"You're being very brave, Harry," said Sirius solemnly, still holding tightly onto Harry's hand.

Harry didn't think he was being brave at all, but he appreciated Sirius's words anyway. It seemed like forever before Dr. Grant was finally finished administering all her shots to Harry. They all hurt like hell. Harry finally—finally!—hopped down off the exam table, feeling like a pincushion.

"Good job, Harry," said Dr. Grant, patting him on the shoulder. "Now you won't need any more boosters until you're in your teens."

"Okay," said Harry; his stomach was settling down, although he was trying not to look at the many Band-Aids on his arm.

"When younger children get shots, I usually give them toys or candy," Dr. Grant said, grinning. "But I daresay you're far too old for such rewards now…?"

"I-I could take some chocolate, I guess," said Harry.

"No problem," Dr. Grant said, and offered him his choice of candy bars, all full-size. Harry chose a huge chocolate bar and he had to admit, it did make the pain of the shots go away a little.

"You don't think I could have one too, do you?" Sirius asked.

"Not unless you get a shot too," said Dr. Grant jokingly, and they all laughed.