A Wizard's Debt

Five: Pomfrey.



Ah, definitely the smartest witch of her age if Miss Granger has the sense to put a patient under a stasis charm while a cure is sought out. It’s a long time since I’ve seen injuries bad enough to warrant that technique myself, but indeed, I have had patients in stasis while I used the time to find medicine and spells to heal them.



A small crowd had gathered to watch as the rose pink paste was smeared on, it had a sickly sweet smell, syrupy. The gold spatula made for difficult application, but instructions must be followed.



I watched with held breath as she lifted the hex on my colleague… and I was delighted to find that the toxin began to migrate toward the paste and change its rose pink colour to a sludgy brown. Severus began to breathe deeply, his lungs filling and emptying in a gentle rhythm suggesting nothing but a healing sleep.



I turned to congratulate Miss Granger on a most splendid bit of healing potion work – only to find her collapsed on the floor unconscious! Evidently the brewing of the paste was the straw that broke the hippogriff’s back, and exhausted whatever energy she had left.



Forcing panicked well-wishers away from her bedside, I set to work. What did this world come to when children must decide the future of all? When youngsters give up all and push themselves beyond their limits? Tis a shame these youths could not have the childhood they were intitled to.



An examination showed Miss Granger to be in a deep healing sleep; but the reasons for it’s induction were many: exhaustion; malnutrition; spell damage and emotional stress. There was little I could do to heal her – there are no potions or spells for such things, they are not ailments in their own right, merely symptoms of battle.



A battle that could have been prevented had the adults of this magical world listened to the children whom saved it. Too many of my infirmary beds are occupied by those whom did not last the fight – their bodies covered over with a sheet, family members grieving about their empty shells.



Many are injured. Some scrapes; some bruises; a few broken bones; internal bleeding; hex damage; smoke inhalation…



Ah, but first things first with my two newest patients - a cleanup and a hospital gown. Severus was a difficulty, the leather armour of the Death Eaters proved cumbersome and an utter nightmare to remove. I tried to simply cut it off, but the scissors simply bent as they met the hide. These scissors will cut through the very mattress he lays on – never mind thin leather… what charms was he wearing?



With the assistance of Lucius Malfoy – who was in need of an ice bag for the multiple bruises he was sporting (I haven’t seen him so bruised since his quidditch days here at Hogwarts – he was practically a magnet for the bludgers!). He quickly un-warded the clothing and helped me dress his friend in the cotton gown; he even took the time to fold his clothes and place them in the little cupboard beside the bed.



A quick lectus lavacrum and Severus was clean, his previously sallow skin looking a little pinker through the gentle scrubbing the spell performed. Scourgify just isn’t good enough in a hospital ward.



Moving onto Miss Granger, I found her clothing much easier to remove; and quite shocked to find perfectly matching underwear… though, I remember her once joking with Master Potter: ‘My Mum says always wear clean and matching underwear – just in case you end up in casualty and they have to cut your clothes off…’



I have no idea what this muggle ‘casualty’ is – though I presume it is a place of healing.



Gently removing her garments, I found her far too thin with ribs showing – and an obvious hormonal problem. It is two weeks from the moon, her moon flow should not be now; but stress does many things to a young woman, and few have had more stress than this one.



These patients settled, I moved on with my rounds – there is little I can accomplish now they are in the healing sleep. Their friends will watch over them and guard their dreams. My occupation is with the body, not the subconscious word of the surreal.