Future Nostalgia / Harry Potter Fanfic

Visiting Mr. Weasley

"Right," said Tonks, beckoning them forward to a window displaying nothing but a particularly ugly female dummy whose false eyelashes were hanging off and who was modeling a green nylon pinafore dress. "Everybody ready?"

They nodded, clustering around her; Moody gave them another shove to urge them forward and Tonks leaned close to the glass, looking up at the very ugly dummy, and said, her breath steaming up the glass, "Wotcher...We're here to see Arthur Weasley."

The dummy gave a tiny nod, beckoned its jointed finger, and Tonks had seized Ginny and Mrs. Weasley by the elbows, stepped right through the glass, and vanished.

Fred, George, and Ron stepped after them; sensing Harry's hesitance, Estella pulled him through before Moody could shove them again.

They had arrived in what seemed in what seemed to be a crowded reception area where rows of witches and wizards sat upon rickety wooden chairs, some looking perfectly normal and perusing out-of-date copies of Witch Weekly, others sporting gruesome disfigurements such as elephant trunks or extra hands sticking out of their chest. The room was scarcely less quiet than the street outside, for many of the patients were making very peculiar noises. A sweaty-faced witch in the center of the front row, who was fanning herself vigorously with a copy of the Daily Prophet, kept letting off a high-pitched whistle as steam came pouring out of her mouth, and a grubby-looking warlock in the corner clanged like a bell every time he moved, and with each clang, her head vibrated horribly, so that she had to seize herself by the ears.

Witches and wizards in lime-green robes were walking up and down the rows, asking questions and making notes on clipboards like Umbridge's. Estella noticed the familiar emblem embroidered on their chests: a wand and bone, crossed.

"Are they doctors?" Harry asked quietly.

"Doctors?" said Estella. "Those Muggles that cut people up? No, they're Healers, like Cedric, or what he will be soon."

"Over here!" called Mrs. Weasley over the renewed clanging of the warlock in the corner, and they followed her to the queue in front of a plump blond witch seated at a desk marked Inquiries. The wall behind her was covered in notices and posters saying things like A Clean Cauldron Keeps Potions From Becoming Poisons and Anti-don'ts are Anti-Don'ts Unless Approved By A Qualified Healer.

There was a large portrait of a witch with silver ringlets that was labeled

Dilys Derwent

St. Mungo's Healer 1722-1741

Headmistress of Hogwarts school of Witchcraft and Wizardry, 1741-1768

Dilys was eying the Weasley party as though counting them; when Estella caught her eye she gave a tiny wink, walked sideways out of her portrait, and vanished.

Meanwhile, at the front of the queue, a young wizard was performing an odd on-the-spot jig and trying, in between yelps of pain, to explain his predicament to the witch behind the desk.

"IT's these-ouch-shoes my brother game me-ouch-they're eating my-ouch-feet-look at them, there must be some kind-ARGH-jinx on them and I can't-AAAARGH-get them off-"

He hopped from one foot to another as though dancing on hot coals.

"The shoes don't prevent you from reading, do they?" said the blonde witch irritably, pointing at a large sign to the left of her desk. "You want Spell Damage, fourth floor. Just like it says on the floor guide. Next!"

The wizard hobbled and pranced sideways out of the way, the Weasley party moved forward a few steps and Estella read the floor guide:

ARTIFACT ACCIDENTS: Ground Floor (Cauldron explosion, wand backfiring, broom crashes, etc.)