David and Jane Granger were relaxing on a Sunday afternoon, unsuspecting, when a wizard arrived at their door. The man who rang the bell was heavyset, with prominent jowls, a mop of dirty-blond hair, and an official-looking uniform topped with a brown trench coat. He looked odd enough that they could guess he was a wizard at a glance.
"Are you the parents of Hermione Granger?" he asked.
That seemed an odd thing to ask right off the bat, but David dutifully answered, "Yes, we are. Who are you?"
"Auror Odo Proudfoot from the Department of Magical Law Enforcement." He flashed a badge.
"Law enforcement? What's the matter?"
"I'm afraid your daughter was attacked by a dangerous animal at school."
"Oh my God!" Jane gasped. "What happened to her? Is this why she hasn't been writing for the past three weeks? Will she be okay?"
"I'm told she has now made a full recovery, so there is no need to worry. However, all three of you are wanted for questioning regarding a related incident that you witnessed last autumn."
"Now, wait a minute," David cut in. "You tell us our Hermione was hurt bad enough she couldn't write for three weeks, and we don't find out until she's supposedly fully recovered?"
"I don't have all the details, Mr. Granger," Proudfoot said. "My instructions only say that she's ready to be discharged from the hospital as soon as you pick her up. The Healers can explain better there."
The Grangers calmed down a little, but they were starting to grow angry. "She's in the hospital?" David said. "Why weren't we informed when it happened?"
"I honestly don't know, Mr. Granger," Proudfoot said testily, "but I do know that ninety percent of the magical law enforcement of this country is currently busy searching Hogwarts for more dangerous creatures, so I really don't have time for this. Your daughter and the Healers can explain everything when you arrive. Now, please hold onto this." He produced a bent coat hanger from his robes.
Both Grangers stared at him blankly.
"Please hold on," he repeated. "And don't let go."
They patronisingly reached out and grabbed the coat hanger. Before they could question further, their world was turned inside-out.
The Grangers landed in a heap on a dirty street outside what looked like a condemned clothing shop.
"What the hell?!" David yelled springing to his feet. He looked like he was about to hit Proudfoot, but the wizard practically ignored him.
"This is the hospital," the Auror said. "It's disguised, of course. You can find your daughter inside. Now, I really must be going." And with a pop, he vanished into thin air.
David and Jane looked at each other and, for lack of an alternative, went inside the building. The inside looked nothing like the outside. It seemed to be a perfectly normal hospital waiting room, albeit a few decades out of date—all stark, blank walls and that ugly sea-foam green—with lavender accents, for some reason. Their daughter was sitting in the waiting room with that family of redheads they had met last summer.
"Oh, Hermione! Thank goodness! Are you alright?" Jane ran to her and hugged her tight.
"Hi, Mum. Hi, Dad. I'm fine," Hermione said, as if there were nothing wrong at all.
"But what happened? You haven't written for three weeks."
"I'm sorry. I was attacked by a giant snake that turned me into a statue. They only got the antidote in this morning."
David and Jane looked at each other worriedly. Notwithstanding how horrifying that sounded, this wasn't like their daughter at all.
"Um, are you sure you're okay, Hermione?" David asked.
"Yes. Why?"
"Well, you seem awfully calm about this whole thing."
"That's because they gave me a Calming Draught after I fainted when Harry told me the school was closed for the rest of term."
Hermione's parents laughed in spite of themselves. "Okay, now that's our Hermione," her mother said. "So how were you attacked by a…a giant snake?"
"It's a very long story, Mum," she said.
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David and Jane listened with rapt attention in a small, private side room as Hermione explained the goings on this past year with all the diligence and evenness of a documentarian. They of course demanded to know why she hadn't told them about the attacks from the start, to which she replied with only a little hesitation that she was afraid they would withdraw her from school. It was then that they learnt that scolding a girl who was under the influence of a Calming Draught was…not ineffective, per se, but definitely awkward. With her muted emotions, Hermione simply accepted the chastisement, apologised and moved on, so that they weren't entirely certain whether it had taken hold.
Then, as if the giant snake weren't enough, she explained that it was also classified as a weapon of mass destruction and had triggered the massive search of the school that was going on now. That was the greatest consolation of the whole affair that Hogwarts would be made thoroughly safe for the students by the next school year.
"That's good to hear," David said. "We really wouldn't want to send you back next autumn if it weren't certified to be safe. It's good that at least the law enforcement is competent around here. I'm not so sure about that Headmaster of yours."
"Yes, we're still not sure why he missed it," she said. "Of course, the Board of Governors sacked him after I was attacked. But he came back today, and Harry says he was acting perfectly responsible and by-the-book when he found out. I agree with you about the security. Honestly, I think I would have come home at Christmas and tried to switch schools if it weren't for my friends. I was really scared since muggle-borns were being targeted."
"Oh, Hermione." Her mother hugged her again, and she still found Hermione's lack of a reaction really unsettling. "Well, the…the Healers say you're alright. Are you ready to come home?"
"I'd like to say goodbye to my friends first, please. With the school and Harry's home life in flux, I don't know when I'll be able to see them again."
"Um, okay, that's fine. Let's see if they're back in the waiting room again."
They didn't see Harry in the waiting room, and the Welcome Witch told them he was still being checked over. However, they did see a wreck of a man stumbling in the door, supported by an Auror. The man had a long, black uncombed beard and was wearing rags with black and white stripes on them. Everyone stared as he was dragged to the front desk.
Sirius Black still couldn't believe his ears as he was led, stumbling and squinting in the light, into St. Mungo's. "In light of new evidence, all charges against you have been dropped," the Aurors had said. He was sure he had finally gone insane. No trial, even? Just let him off? Surely, they had long forgotten that he was never tried in the first place, and surely, the Ministry was too stubborn to ever admit its mistake and call a retrial. And yet, here he was.
"Merlin's Beard, what happened to him?" the Welcome Witch said.
"Eleven years of dementor exposure," the Auror replied gruffly.
"What? How—?"
"Never mind that. Fourth floor, I assume?"
"Er, yes, I suppose so. Not technically spell damage, but that's where the Mind Healers are."
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Harry wasn't in the waiting room. He was still being bounced around between different departments. He had been examined by a Healer in the creature-induced injuries ward and was found to be fine expect for a few bruises and a recently-healed gash on his arm.
"What's that from?" the Healer asked.
"Oh, that's where the basilisk bit me," Harry said.
"WHAT?!"
"I'm fine, though."
"You're fine? You should be—we need to get you to the third floor."
Before Harry could protest, he was whisked off to the poisonings ward where he was examined again.
"I'm fine, really," he said. "Fawkes healed it. I feel pretty good, now."
The Healers were unimpressed. With his continued insistence that he was unhurt and that he just wanted to see his friends again, he was moved up to the mental ward on the fourth floor, where he wound up in a bed next to Ginny. Mrs. Weasley was sitting by her bedside. Lockhart was there too, in the back corner, but he surprisingly wasn't talking for the moment.
"Oh, h-h-hi, Harry," Ginny said shyly.
"Hey, Ginny."
"What are you doing here?"
"They think I'm delusional because I keep saying I'm not hurt. What about you?"
Ginny's mouth hung open for a minute as she tried to process this. Harry just stared at her, waiting. "I, uh, they say I need a Mind Healer because I was possessed," she said softly.
"Oh. I guess that makes sense."
"Mmm…"
"So…we never had a chance to talk before…well, before everybody went crazy."
Ginny squeaked in fear and turned pale again. "Oh, Harry, I'm so sorry! I didn't wanna do it!" she babbled. "I never wanted anybody to get hurt..."
"Whoa, whoa, Ginny! It's okay," Harry stopped her. "It wasn't your fault. Tom told me everything down in the Chamber."
"He did?" Ginny gasped in horror.
"Yeah. He was all gloating about how he manipulated you and stuff so he could control you. It was all his fault. He even tried to do it to me, too. I had the diary for a while, too, remember? I actually believed him at first after he told me Hagrid opened the Chamber of Secrets."
Mrs. Weasley patted her on the shoulder. "There, you see, Ginny?" she said softly. "No one blames you."
"Wait a minute, Mr. Potter," the Healer who was tending to them interrupted. "You wrote in the diary, too?"
"Er, yeah. Just the one time, though."
"And what happened?" The Healer waved his wand over his head.
"I asked him some questions about the Chamber of Secrets, and he showed me a…a memory that made it look like Hagrid was the one behind it, but it was really him. I didn't tell him anything about myself besides my name, but I think he knew about me from Ginny."
The Healer frowned. "Are you sure that was all?" he said.
"Yeah."
"Hmm…something doesn't look right." The Healer continued checking for effects of possession and looked confused by what he was seeing. He turned around and waved his wand over Ginny. "No, nothing there." He turned back to Harry. "So what's this…?"
He was interrupted, though, as another man was brought into the ward. He was tall and emaciated with a mess of black hair worse than Harry's and piercing grey eyes that seemed to be the only lifelike part of him.
"My goodness!" Mrs. Weasley said. "Is that who I think it is?"
"Alright, Mr. Black, you'll need to stay here until the Healers look you over," said a man in a robe that looked rather like a brown trench coat.
But the thin man froze in the doorway, seemingly not hearing, as his eyes met Harry's. "James?" he croaked.
"Um…no, I'm Harry."
"Harry?" he gasped, and he tripped over himself to reach his bedside. "What in Merlin's name are you doing here?"
"I'm not sure, actually," Harry quipped. "One minute, I was fighting a giant snake, and the next, the whole world went mad."
"What?"
"Mr. Black, wasn't it?" Harry said. "Are you Sirius Black?"
"I—yes, I am. I…uh, take it you know…what really happened, then?"
"You mean how you were framed by Peter Pettigrew? Yeah, Madam Bones told me after she found out he was hiding as my friend, Ron's, pet rat."
"Wait wait wait. He was your friend's pet?"
"Yeah?"
"Doesn't that mean he was in your dorm for what, two years?"
Harry paled at the realisation. "Ew! He slept in Ron's bed half the time, too."
"But he never…tried anything?"
"WHAT?!" Mrs. Weasley shrieked.
"What? No! I didn't mean that!" Sirius yelled when he realised what he'd said.
"Okay, I need all of you to calm down," the Healer said. "I can't have my patients upsetting each other."
"Sorry," Sirius mumbled. "I meant trying to kill you, Harry."
"Oh…No, I don't think so," Harry replied with an unsettling degree of calm. "He mostly just laid around all day. We only found out when because the Aurors were searching the castle."
"Why were they searching the castle?"
"Just to be sure there wasn't another basilisk—"
"WHAT?!"
"Mr. Black!" the Healer warned.
"Sorry. It's okay. I'm calm. I'm calm." He didn't sound it.
"Just drink this." The Healer handed him a Calming Draught.
Sirius downed the potion with one quick swig. He took a deep breath and managed to keep his voice steady: "Does someone want to explain why there was a basilisk in Hogwarts?"
Harry explained how there had been attacks on muggle-borns over the past year by the Heir of Slytherin, how his friend, Hermione, had figured out that they were caused by a basilisk, how the Heir was Voldemort possessing Ginny, and how he had saved her and stopped Voldemort by killing the giant snake with the Sword of Gryffindor. The mention of Voldemort's name had the Healer himself reaching for a Calming Draught, and even with the potion, Sirius looked like he might faint by the end of it.
"Bloody hell," he muttered. "I disappear for a decade, and suddenly the whole place goes to-"
"Ahem," the Healer interrupted, having finished his scans of all three of them. "Mr. Black, I'm frankly amazed that you're in as good a shape as you are after eleven years in Azkaban. You look like a man who was there half that time. The bad news is that that's still quite a lot of damage to be dealing with. The good news is that we understand how to fix it pretty well." He wrote out some prescriptions and explained, "I'm putting you on a special diet and a nutrition potion to help you gain weight, physical therapy to regain your muscle strength, and gradually tapering Euphoria Elixir and Draught of Peace to reset your emotional regulation. You'll be here at least the next month with all of that, I'm afraid, and we'll send a Mind Healer twice a week plus being on call to speak with you during that time."
"Blimey—didn't know it was that involved," Sirius groaned.
"Dementors have that effect on people," the Healer replied. He then turned to Ginny and her mother: "Now, Miss Weasley, you're showing fairly normal after-effects of possession—if possession were common enough to call it normal, that is. Those should fade on their own with time, although we'll want to keep an eye on them. I want you to come back once a week for at least one month to have your magic checked, and to talk to a Mind Healer about how you're coping and anything else that is troubling you."
Ginny winced, and Mrs. Weasley bit her lip, obviously nervous about something. Harry quickly noticed. "Something wrong, Ginny?" he asked quietly. "I think it would help if you got some counselling."
Ginny looked down, her ears poking red out of her hair. She stole a glance at her mother, unsure whether she should come out and say it. Finally, she mumbled, "Mind Healers aren't cheap, Harry."
"What, don't you have the NHS?" Harry blurted.
"NHS? Whats that?" Mrs. Weasley said.
"National Health Service? Something where the Ministry pays basic Healer's costs?"
The Healer sighed loudly. "Mr. Potter, this isn't the muggle world," he said. "We're a long way behind in that regard. The taxpayers who fund the Ministry would never accept it."
Harry considered that and realised the biggest taxpayers funding the Ministry were probably people like the Malfoys and figured that was probably true. "Oh," he said again. "Well, I'll pay for it, then."
"Harry, we can't ask you to do that after all you've done already," Mrs. Weasley said.
"I want to, though, Mrs Weasley. I have gold, and it's just sitting there. Besides, Ginny's my friend. It's important to me that she's not still being hurt."
Ginny's eye grew very wide. "I'm y-y-your f-friend?" she gasped.
"You're my best mate's sister. That makes you my friend, too, if you want to be."
Ginny could only squeak in response to this.
"That's very thoughtful of you, Harry," Mrs. Weasley responded, "but you still don't owe us anything. We already owe you more than we could ever repay."
"Well…" Harry groped for a way he could make them feel like they weren't taking charity. "Let's call it rent for the summer, then. If Mr. Black is gonna be here for over a month, I'll still need a place to stay."
"Call me Sirius, please," a tired voice said from the next bed.
"You know we'd take you in for free," Mrs. Weasley said. "We never wanted anything for your time with us last summer, either."
"I know, Mrs. Weasley, but this way, Ginny can get the help she needs, and it'll all be square."
Mrs. Weasley pressed her lips together uncertainly, but she finally said, "Well, I suppose I can talk it over with Arthur. If he's alright with it, we can do it."
"Do I really need it, Mum?" Ginny spoke up timidly.
The Healer stepped forward again to convince her: "Miss Weasley, I really do think you should see a Mind Healer. It would help you work things out about what happened. For example, if you don't mind my asking, the…spirit that possessed you—how did it treat you? Did it interact with you at all?"
Ginny swallowed and nodded uncomfortably. "He was always really nice to me," she whispered. "I never knew."
"Then I imagine you're feeling really betrayed right now?" She nodded again. "And confused? And you already mentioned feeling guilty. A Mind Healer would help you work through those feelings so that they don't hurt your good relationships later on."
"He's right, Ginny," Mrs. Weasley agreed. "You've just been through a terrible experience, and these sorts of things can really hurt you if you don't have good people supporting you. A Mind Healer is a really good idea. And if Harry is going to be paying for it, I want you to at least try it out."
"Alright, Mum."
"Good, now that's sorted," the Healer said, "Mr. Potter, you have some nasty-looking dark magic residue on you. At first I thought it was from the diary or the basilisk, but it looks like it's actually connected with your scar."
"Is that bad?" Harry and Sirius said in unison, then glanced at each other.
"It's not good. But honestly, I don't know what to make of it. It's old—probably from when you got the scar. It doesn't seem to have affected you since you were a baby, so maybe it's not a problem, but I think an Unspeakable should look at it, just to be sure."
"A what?" Harry said.
"An Unspeakable. From the Department of Mysteries."
Harry gave the Healer a blank look.
"The research division of the Ministry," Sirius explained.
"Oh."
Checking the report again, the Healer said, "Other than that, I think you're free to go, Mr. Potter. Physically, you're fine. The phoenix tears fully healed the bite, incredible as it seems, and it looks like you didn't have the diary long enough to do any damage. You're a little underweight, but the scans say that's from your metabolism. However, if your upbringing was as bad as the Aurors' report said, I'd recommend counselling for you, too."
"Wait, his upbringing?" the previously-sleepy Sirius snapped awake again. "Where are you living, Harry? I imagine the next in line would've been my cousin, Andromeda Tonks."
"Um…actually, I was living with my Aunt Petunia."
"WHAT?!" he barked and then suppressed himself again. "Healer, I think I'm gonna need another Calming Draught," he growled. "So how are we defining 'bad upbringing,' Harry? I know Petunia couldn't stand your mum—or magic in general."
"Erm…making me do all the chores mostly," Harry lied. He wasn't comfortable yet saying the whole truth in front of Mrs. Weasley and Ginny, let alone a man he'd just met. "And pretty much ignoring me the rest of the time…"
Sirius growled again, but his growl subsided when he downed the Calming Draught.
Harry was a little nervous. His godfather didn't seem particularly emotionally stable. It must have something to do with those dementor things he heard the Healer talking about. "Amelia Bones just had them arrested for child neglect, so I don't have to go back there," he tried to assure him.
"Arrested?" Mrs. Weasley gasped. "Oh, you poor dear. I didn't believe Ron when he said it was that bad. Well, you'd be welcome to stay with us anyway, but I'm glad you're getting away from them."
"Thanks, Mrs. Weasley."
"If you want to find Arthur and the boys, they'll be in the tearoom on the fifth floor."
Harry was about to do just that when there was a commotion at the door.
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Remus Lupin was not having a fine day. It had started when Aurors showed up his door, asked for his name and said, "You're wanted for questioning at the Ministry." Without even waiting for his answer—and whilst wearing dragon-hide gloves, no less—they'd grabbed him and dragged him to London on the spot. This wasn't the first time that had happened, but he could tell they were in an especially bad mood, and more importantly, it made absolutely no sense today since it had been over three weeks since the last full moon.
Then, things started to get downright surreal as he was brought before Amelia Bones herself, and she started asking him a lot of questions about Sirius and Peter, some going back past the war all the way to their school days. And even then, the questions made no sense, like, "Was Pettigrew acting suspicious in the weeks before Halloween of 1981?" and that was just for starters. Remus had actually tried to correct Madam Bones and say that she must have meant Sirius, but she informed him that, no, she definitely meant Peter Pettigrew.
Finally, Madam Bones explained what was happening: Peter was not only alive, but in her custody and was a marked Death Eater. He was now suspected of being the real traitor instead of Sirius. When asked, Remus informed her that he most definitely did not know anything about this, which she could probably guess because he nearly fainted when he heard it. And from there, he'd heard the whole sordid tale.
In that light, it was a little understandable that the Aurors were being rough on him. Amelia was civil enough, but everyone else was cracking under the stress already and didn't want to deal with a werewolf. The entire department was scrambling to search Hogwarts, get the students home safely, deal with Sirius's case, and still try to maintain the peace, so they didn't have much energy to spare.
That didn't mean he was happy about being manhandled.
Remus suppressed the urge to growl, as he had done his whole life (for to do so would be disastrous) as the Auror hurried him along to the mental ward on the fourth floor of St. Mungo's after Madam Bones had determined he'd done nothing suspicious.
"Excuse me, Healer," the Auror said curtly when they reached the door. "I've got a friend of Mr. Black's here to see him—a Remus Lupin—just got cleared at the Ministry. Should I send him in?"
"Mr. Black—?"
"Remus? Of course!" Sirius called.
Remus was nudged inside where he saw what looked like a wild man lying on one of the beds—emaciated with sunken eyes, matted hair, and an unkempt black beard. "Sirius," he said, still reeling from his world being turned upside-down.
"Alright, Lupin, here you go," the Auror said. "We'll contact you if we need more information. And be careful. He's a registered werewolf."
Lupin gaped while the red-haired woman by the first bed squeaked in fear and pulled her equally frightened daughter close to her. The Healer eyed him warily. A school-aged boy looked around in confusion.
"That was supposed to be confidential," Remus yelled after the Auror.
He turned back around when he heard the boy ask, "When's the next full moon?"
Remus faced the boy, who looked uncertain about the question, as if he wasn't sure whether it was proper to ask it. But then, he recognised that the boy was—incredibly—Harry Potter, and he lowered his gaze sadly. That Auror had just made sure he'd made the worst first impression possible. "Fourth of June," he said resignedly.
"Then why's everyone so scared?" Harry asked without hesitation.
The Healer and the two Weasley women goggled at him, but Sirius burst out laughing. It was a short-lived laugh thanks to the Calming Draughts, but it was heartfelt nonetheless. "Oh, Harry, that was brilliant," he said. "This is Remus Lupin. He was my and your parent's best friend back in the day."
"Oh. Pleased to meet you, Mr. Lupin." Harry shook his hand without reservation, and that gesture alone was enough to make Remus have to fight back tears.
"Um…pleased to meet you, Harry," he stammered. Something told him that the boy hadn't meant that as a prank. "And…just Remus is fine…" he added. "So does somebody want to tell me what's going on here?"
Harry sighed dramatically: "One minute, I was fighting a giant snake, and then…"
A/N: Thanks for reading and please vote and comment!