Kindred Spirits

by Tailkinker

This is a work of fan fiction based on the Harry Potter series and the Sailor Moon franchise created respectively by J.K. Rowling and Naoko Takeuchi. The characters and settings belong to their respective owners and no copyright infringement is intended. This story is written purely for entertainment purposes and should not be considered as part of the official canon of either series.


Christmas at St Mungo's

Nobody really managed any sleep that night, and the next morning, Harry found himself still sitting at the kitchen table, bleary-eyed and with his hands wrapped around a large mug of tea. Hotaru leaned against him, her eyes shut, though Harry knew she wasn't asleep. The Weasley children were gathered around the table, none looking particularly awake.

"We'll be flooing to Headquarters," said Molly Weasley as she scooped some bacon onto a platter. "From there, we'll walk to St. Mungo's. Luckily, it's not too far." She placed the platter of bacon on the table. "Do eat up, everybody. You'll want your strength today."

Nobody moved to take any food. Mrs Weasley scowled.

"Just because we're going to a hospital is no reason to disregard your own health," she scolded. "I want everybody to eat something, at least. Especially you, Hotaru, dear. You're far too thin."

Harry rolled his eyes, but pulled some toast towards himself and began building a bacon and egg sandwich. Hotaru opened her eyes, and dutifully reached for a plate.

"Does Sirius know we're coming?" asked Harry.

"I flooed him last night," said Mrs Weasley. "Scared the life out of your cousin, let me tell you."

Harry chuckled at that.

"He's gone on to Headquarters and unlocked the floo," she continued. "But we'll have to wait for Dumbledore before we can go there."

"Why?" asked Ron.

"Because I can't tell you the floo address," said Mrs Weasley. "It's under the Fidelius Charm, so only Dumbledore can tell us. He's the Secret Keeper."

Something sparked in Harry's memory, and he dropped his sandwich. "Wait. Who cast that Fidelius Charm?"

"Why, Dumbledore did, of course."

"So the person who cast the Fidelius can also be the Secret Keeper?" asked Harry. Beside him, he heard Hotaru draw in a breath.

"Well, I suppose," said Mrs Weasley. "Why?"

"Because when my parents went under Fidelius, they chose their Secret Keeper poorly," said Harry. "Do you know who cast their Fidelius?"

"I'm sorry, Harry," said Mrs Weasley sadly. "I don't. I wasn't in the Order in the first war. But if it wasn't Dumbledore, then they'd likely have had to pick a different Secret Keeper. It takes more power to make yourself the Secret Keeper. You also can't cast the Fidelius if you're directly the subject of it, and if you're only somewhat the subject—such as with the location of Headquarters—you need a lot of power as well."

Harry deflated. "So they couldn't use themselves, because it was being used specifically to hide them, and if Dumbledore wasn't there to cast it, then he couldn't really be Secret Keeper, either."

"Afraid so," admitted Mrs Weasley. "Now, eat up. Dumbledore said he'd be here shortly."

Harry dutifully picked his sandwich back up. He suspected that Mrs Weasley had ended the conversation because she was out of her depth—magics of that level were very powerful. He'd have to ask Dumbledore more about the charm.


Harry had never been to a hospital before. At worst, he'd been to a local clinic when ill. But he'd seen various hospitals on the telly, and thought he knew what to expect.

Well, he was wrong. The white walls of St Mungo's were pristine and sterile, yet the air buzzed with an undercurrent of controlled chaos. Healers clad in robes of different colors bustled through the corridors, wands emitting soft glows as they conducted spells and administered care to the various patients.

They formed a rather large crowd as they moved through the hospital, and as they entered the Llewellyn Ward, a nurse stood up and hurried over, a concerned look on her face.

"Sorry, but there's quite a few of you here, so if you'll let me know who you're here to see, I can have them come out to meet you here."

"Arthur Weasley," replied Mrs Weasley.

"Weasley...Oh, yes. Um..." The nurse looked abashed. "He's not able to come out yet. You're his wife, yes?"

"Yes," said Mrs Weasley.

"Well, I'll allow you in first, and then you can decide if the children can visit." She checked her clipboard. "Room 3B. Just down the hall there."

"Thank you," said Mrs Weasley faintly. She hurried across the room and turned down the hallway.

Harry cleared his throat, and stepped a bit closer to the nurse. "If I can ask...Why isn't Mr Weasley able to come out?"

"He's been bitten by some sort of beast," said the nurse. "The beast must have been enchanted by dark magic, because the wounds won't close. His healer resorted to some primitive muggle treatment to close the wound, but it's left him unable to walk for a while."

"What sort of treatment?" asked Hotaru.

"Stitches, I think he called it." The nurse sniffed. "Apparently, he just sewed up the wound, like the poor man was a ripped shirt! Can you imagine something so primitive?"

"Muggles have been doing that for centuries," said Harry reprovingly. "As in, since long before Ollivanders first opened its doors. They keep on doing it. Do you know why?"

"Because they don't know any better," said the nurse.

"No," said Harry shortly. "They keep doing it because it keeps working."

"Harry..." Hotaru tugged on his sleeve. "I can close the wound."

"Are you sure?" asked Harry.

Hotaru nodded. "I've treated wounds made by dark magic before. Your professor, remember?"

Harry realized that she meant Moony. Werewolf scratches tended not to heal easily, because the lycanthropic curse was dark in nature. But Hotaru had healed him completely.

"I can't replace missing tissue," she said. "But I can easily seal the wound, and even heal the scarring."

The nurse was looking at her oddly. "Where would you learn such magics?"

"It's a latent talent," said Hotaru. "I was born with it. It caused me many problems growing up, because I'm Muggle-born."

The nurse looked a bit uncertain, but she said, "Let me find his healer. If you can really do this, I can't see Healer Pye disagreeing."


Hotaru staggered back from the bed, her eyelids fluttering, and Harry caught her before she collapsed. Augustus Pye, the apprentice Healer who had chosen to use stitches, stared in amazement at Arthur Weasley's leg, which was now completely healed.

"Astounding," he whispered.

"It can take a lot out of her," said Harry. He looked down at Hotaru, worried. She had passed out entirely. "He must have been hurt worse than you thought. I've never seen Hotaru quite this wiped out before."

Healer Pye flicked his wand in Hotaru's direction. "Low blood sugar, and her electrolytes are out of balance."

"So simple exhaustion," said Harry. Pye raised an eyebrow.

"Interested in Healing?" he asked.

Harry shook his head. "We've dealt with this before."

"Take her upstairs to the tea room, and have her eat something salty and something sweet." Pye nodded. "That'll probably set her right as rain."

Harry nodded, and scooped Hotaru up in his arms. It took him a bit of effort; Hotaru was short and slender, but she still weighed ninety to a hundred pounds.

"Best take the lift," suggested Healer Pye.

Harry nodded, and walked down the hall. He hit the button for the lift, and Hotaru stirred in his arms.

"Oh..." She winced. "I overdid it, didn't I?"

"Just a bit," said Harry with a smile. "But Mr Weasley's back to his old self. We're just going to pop up to the tea room and get you some snacks."

"I don't—"

"Healer's orders," interrupted Harry.

"I've got some snack bars," said Hotaru. "I always carry a few on me, for just such occasions."

Harry chuckled. "Well, now I feel stupid. I should put you down—"

"The lift dinged next to them, and the doors opened. In the lift car stood Neville Longbottom, who looked up with a friendly smile. Beside him was an older woman, her expression shifting from surprise to amusement as she took in the sight of Harry carrying Hotaru in a bridal fashion.

Hotaru's cheeks flushed with embarrassment, and she gave Neville and the older woman an apologetic smile. Harry, unfazed, greeted them with a nod. "Hey, Neville. Sorry; Hotaru had a bit of a fainting spell." He gently set Hotaru back on her feet, noticing the lingering flush on her cheeks. He then turned to the other occupant of the lift car. "Mrs Longbottom."

"Mr Potter, I presume." She smiled, though the expression seemed foreign and guarded on her face. "Neville has told me much about you."

"We're on our way up to see my parents," said Neville quietly. "Would you care to meet them?"

"I'm sure that Mr Potter and his lady friend have other things—"

Harry broke in. "I would be honoured, Neville."

"As would I," added Hotaru in a whisper.

Mrs Longbottom didn't look angry at the interruption; rather, she looked a bit saddened. "As you wish. But please be aware that they were greviously injured at the hands of Death Eaters during the War."

"I know," said Harry quietly.

"Harry—"

Harry shook his head. "I don't think you'll be able to heal them, Hotaru. From what Professor Moody told us, this is psychological damage, not physical."

"Unfortunately, that is true," agreed Mrs Longbottom. "The Healers are convinced that they are not in pain. The effects of the curse have long since faded. But some things are horrible enough to destroy the mind."

"I don't think that their minds are destroyed," said Neville. "Mum can recognize me, even if Dad can't. I think that they might just be...lost."

Hotaru considered this, then said, "I know someone who might be able to help, then."

"Usagi?" asked Harry.

Hotaru nodded. "I think that, once we return to Hogwarts, I should have a chat with Ami."