White Heather for Protection

Of Spoilt Brats and Dungeon Bats

Nodding resignedly, she asked, "When is it?"

"Right now."

She didn't bother to argue - the man definitely knew she had a free block right then. Making her way to the infirmary, she was only mildly surprised by her skulking shadow. "You are to accompany me then, Professor? I haven't actually seen the Dursleys in over a year now."

"Merely protocol. I have much better things to do with my time than hold my students' hands as they stutter through a physical examination."

She snorted softly. Oh, Heather didn't doubt that it was in the protocol, simply the degree of her Head of House's disinterest.

"Troublesome, that," she commented lightly.

When she pushed the doors to the hospital wing open, the school matron looked her up and down critically. Heather sighed; the Headmaster sure worked fast. What was next; the teachers discussing her and Hadrian at the next staff meeting?

"Heather," Madam Pomfrey said disapprovingly, "what did I tell you about withholding pertinent information from your healer?"

"That it is unsafe and should not be done," she parroted dutifully. What? The Medimagic lessons hadn't just comprised learning spells. A lot of ethics and codes of conduct came into play too.

The Mediwitch gave a mild warning look and pointed to a bed. "Now, give me a brief overview of your medical history. Professor Snape can leave if you wish it." The Professor in question made to argue but a quelling look from Madam Pomfrey made him back down with a mutinous glare. 'Interesting,' Heather thought, privately amused.

"He doesn't have to leave because I have none to speak of," she said honestly. Medical history implied records and the Dursleys had never paid for them to see a professional. All their injuries had been self-healed.

"Heather," she said gently, "you don't have to conceal anything. If you have any lingering wounds, it is best to have them looked at or complications could arise."

Heather lifted her chin stubbornly. "Then do a check; use a Level 10 diagnostic. I give my permission for it. You won't find anything."

Severus narrowed his eyes suspiciously at the girl's declaration. 'You won't find anything', not 'There's nothing to find'. Already, that was telling. But how would her supposed injuries remain hidden against a diagnostic spell so thorough that Healers required explicit permission from their patients to use it?

He watched closely as Poppy cast the spell. Heather Lyra sat calmly, not moving at all as the light washed over her. A scroll appeared, detailing every single wound she had sustained since birth. Down to the last scraped knee or papercut. Any damage to the body was always recorded somehow. Even if it appeared completely healed, it never failed to leave the faintest indication.

Poppy hummed in confusion and handed the scroll to him after asking the girl's permission. Severus scanned the list carefully. No aberrations at all. Not a single fracture - even hairline ones - or broken bone. Serious bumps and bruises from age three to five, but they didn't imply anything more than rough-housing - as children were wont to. The list did not include any indications of the degree of abuse he expected. Precisely that - the list did not include. He scrutinised the section under 'Age Eleven'. Sure enough, no mention of shallow cuts on her face from the disastrous confrontation they had had. He looked at 'Age Fourteen' and could not find an entry on fingernail gouges on her palms either. He distinctly remembered the conversation they had had regarding Quirrell. Those were injuries he was certain she had sustained. He had witnessed them, after all.