Oliver opened his eyes and found himself staring at a different ceiling than he'd expected.
There were brown wooden exposed rafters and against one wall a stack of crates marked ROCK SALT in big painted-on letters. Boxes labelled other things too were laying all about, big and small, in teetering piles. The light coming in strewn over the natural wood floor and Oliver rolled out of the bed carefully, padding barefoot to peer through the small round port-hole like window. There wasn't any curtains covering it, and instead of pushing up like a regular window, it swung outward and he leaned out, the circle of glass above his head like a ceiling, his elbows on the round sill, looking down over Diagon Alley's bustling morning crowd.
Shops on Diagon Alley were only just opening, propping open their doors and pushing displays onto the cobbled stone lane to entice folks to come inside. The Cauldron shop rolled out big fat cauldrons and stacked them up, one atop the other, and he could just see Madam Malkin and Marlene McKinnon rolling a rack of dress robes out front of Malkin's shop, waving to Mr. Blott outside of his... Already people were gathered outside of Quality Quidditch Supplies, looking at the featured broom of the day, and there were witches and wizards setting up booths with home made goods - jams and pickles, widdled wood toys, talismans, and stacks upon stacks of uniquely patterned teacups for collectors.
Oliver ducked back into the room and startled when he realized he wasn't utterly alone any longer - Meg Johnson was there, her face flush. "Morning, Ollie," she said.
He stood there, back to the window. "Mornin'," he murmured.
She smiled.
She held a small tray with some potion bottles on it. "May I heal you up?"
Oliver nodded.
She patted the edge of the bed and he went over and sat down. He'd very gingerly washed his face the night before, but it hurt to touch and he hadn't gotten all the blood off his face, and there was a lot of bruising behind his eyes, typical for a broken nose, plus the original shiner had darkened across his cheekbone. Plus his lip was swollen on one side, a tooth chipped... He could feel bruising in his side and abdomen, too, that ached every time he shifted his torso.
Meg drew her wand out of her sleeve and stuck it through her thick ginger bun at the top of her head. A couple tendrils of extremely curly red hair hung over her temples. She held out her hands, palm up, like someone greeting a dog, hesitating a moment. "It might hurt just a second, but it'll feel better right when the magic's done setting in."
"Are you a healer?"
"I'm studying," she answered, her voice was so calming, he thought she would be rather good at it. "This particular method I'm about to fix your bruises with - it's something they taught rudimentary at Ilvermorny, but I've studied a more of since..." She rubbed her palms together, using a mixture of the potions and balms she'd stacked up on her trays, and a smell like mint rose up to his nose. Her palms moved against one another, quickly creating friction, until they were warm and she held her palms up to his face. "They teach a lot of Native American magic at Ilvermorny, which is a wee different than the sort taught at Hogwarts. There are some different, more hands-on wandless type magical methods they teach." Her hands seemed to radiate heat as she brought them up, hovering over his skin, and closed her eyes.
Oliver could feel the heat of her skin and the coolness of the balms she'd applied on them followed that warmth. At first, he thought that was all she was going to do, but then he felt a funny sensation, like the blood in his body was responding to her, as though she were some sort of conductor of a symphony and his bloody vessels were instruments and she twiddled her right ring finger and there was a tingling in the skin below the pad of that finger and he gasped as it felt like his blood and muscles were responding specifically in that spot... Both of her thumbs came down over the bridge of his nose, sensitive he flinched at first, but the bones were moving, responding as she gently brought them along the line of the curve of his nose and there were quiet popping noises as she framed the shape of his nose and everything realigned itself, the cartilage coming together.
She was murmuring quietly and Oliver listened carefully, only just catching the words she was speaking.
"Restore, restore, broken bone,
Restore the flesh and sinew near it...
Peace flood deep and pain be gone,
Healing come up within - heal the spirit..."
Oliver shivered.
Meg's fingers danced along his cheekbones, still radiating warmth, and she slipped her hands across his jaw bone and her thumb over his lips, and everywhere she touched, the skin responded and healed.
When she'd finished with his face, she lowered her hands, and opened her eyes, and Oliver stared up at her in awe.
"There you are, sweet boy," she whispered. "Good as new."
"Yeah?" Oliver asked.
Meg nodded.
"Even my chipped tooth?"
"We'll fix that in a mo'. I need the wand for that one." She paused. "May I do your other bruises? I wanted to ask your permission. I know it might be uncomfy having me touch your side and ribs."
Oliver nodded and tugged his shirt up enough to show her the dark purpling around his chest and abdomen, which curved 'round his side toward his back.
"Do you get back aches?" she asked.
"All the time," he said, surprised.
"If stuff like... this... happened a lot, your spine is likely out of alignment a bit. I had to fix Jasper's once, too."
Oliver looked into her eyes. "Jasper... he's been through... this sort of thing?"
Meg smiled sadly at Oliver's desire to know he wasn't alone, which shined in his eyes so plainly... the desire to be understood...
"He has."
Oliver bit his lip and she could see that the thought brought him a mixture of regret to know it and comfort as well, and he looked down at his bruising. "It's not as bad as I thought it would be."
Meg said, "Well, it's the last time you'll be treated like that."
Oliver's heart felt fit to burst and he nodded, keeping his eyes diverted from hers - knowing if he looked up and saw kindness there he'd lose his breath completely.
Meg prepared her palms again, the heat radiating once more, and set to healing the bruises on his body. When she was done, she had him stand and she ran her palms up the length of his spine and he felt every single vertebrae in it click and shift itself into alignment as she carefully moved her fingers up his back as though playing piano and it hurt but wonderfully so, and she she was done, he felt more whole than he had done in years. He stood breathing deep and relieved as her hands fell away.
There was a knock on the partly open door just as they were finishing up a charm to fix Oliver's chipped tooth, Meg's wand aimed at his mouth. Jasper came in carrying some folded clothes and put them on the bed. "I got you some fresh things," he said kindly to Oliver.
Meg finished up while Jasper watched, and when she was done, he said, "She's a brilliant healer, isn't she?"
Oliver nodded. "Definitely." He'd never seen anything like it. Madam Pomfrey was a different sort of healer than Meg Johnson, and Oliver rather thought Meg's brand of it seemed even more magical than the potions and spellwork that Pomfrey did. It was like the magic had come from inside of her, and it felt so... earthy and natural.
"I'll see you downstairs," Meg whispered, patting Oliver's shoulders, which were now stronger for the aligning of his spine, and he felt taller or something in a way, like it was his first time standing up all the way.
"Thank you," Oliver said to her. "Thank you so much."
Meg nodded and paused to kiss Jasper's cheek, then took her tray and left.
"She is incredible," Oliver murmured.
Jasper smiled, "I'm glad she was able to help."
Oliver looked at the clothing Jasper had brought him - a striped shirt and some new jean trousers, a pair of fresh socks and under shorts and even a pair of trainers.
"I noticed yours were very old and probably too tight," Jasper said when Oliver picked up the trainers.
They were cool ones, not the cheap sort that he had on, the same as he'd worn for over a year. Black, with a rubber toe, they were like the ones everyone else got to wear and he, Oliver, hadn't been able to get because he wasn't like the other kids at school, with a mum and dad who loved him enough to buy him things that were cool and popular and he held onto those shoes, hugging them to his chest as he looked at the other clothes Jasper had brought. The shoes were more than just new trainers in his mind just then.
"Change up and we'll go and get some more clothes and other things we'll need to get this place set up for you lot around here." Jasper smiled.
Oliver looked up at him. "Yeah?"
'Yeah," Jasper said, patting Oliver's back, and he headed for the door.
Oliver hesitated, "Jaz."
Jasper looked over.
"Can we talk some time some more about... about what we've been through?"
Jasper nodded solemnly. "Whenever you're ready to."
"Thanks," Oliver said.
Jasper ducked out the door and Oliver waited a moment, then excitedly lowered his arms to look at the brand new trainers, his heart racing with excitement as he undid the laces for the first time, breathing in the smell of the fresh leather and glues that held the pieces together.