𝐇𝐚𝐫𝐫𝐲 𝐩𝐨𝐭𝐭𝐞𝐫 | 𝑶𝑩𝑳𝑰𝑽𝑰𝑨𝑻𝑬 ─ 𝐁𝐥𝐚𝐜𝐤 𝐟𝐚𝐦𝐢𝐥𝐲 𝒙 𝒐𝒄

𝐀𝐫𝐞 𝐘𝐨𝐮 𝐒𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐬𝐟𝐢𝐞𝐝?

⭒๋⭑

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The girl, victimised by Greyback's assault, remained unconscious. Her visage, though still blemished, bore signs of healing since her admittance. An enraged, crimson scar slashed across her face, from brow to mid-cheek on the right. Perhaps, with time, she might fully recover, possibly even concealed with a spell.

I hadn't left her side. Always checking on her amidst other patients to ensure she was alright. Her family hadn't turned up yet, if they ever would. And if they did, there was a chance they'd forsake her upon learning the lycanthropy mutation couldn't be entirely reversed.

For the first time in years, I felt a twinge of pain for a patient. It was part of what made me a skilled healer. I could shut off my sympathy and empathy, focusing solely on the healing process and procedures.

But this time, it was impossible.

It was all too familiar.

James' voice explaining his friend Remus' condition still echoed in my memory.

He'd kept it secret to protect him from the others. But he always trusted me when he needed help.

He had discovered Remus' secret back at Hogwarts. Noticed his weary eyes and torn clothes after nights battling the transformation that made him a danger to other children. Dumbledore's kindness, or perhaps foolishness, in allowing Remus to attend the school, and all the protective measures he put in place to prevent mishaps, still amazes me.

Despite the danger, James never abandoned his friend. He went above and beyond for Moony, long and arduous research and study. Spent a whole five months learning everything about werewolves in the hope of helping Remus.

James succeeded.

In part.

My brother, though a mischievous and sometimes daft lad, was always an incredibly loyal friend.

I could imagine exactly what he'd say to the girl's parents if they showed up.

"She's still normal, just now with a hairy problem. It'll be alright, just mind the fangs and claws."

Merlin, how I miss him.

I held the clipboard in my hands, reviewing all the medical records. My speciality was curses and enduring spells gone awry, but as head of my ward, I was expected to perform a bit of everything and had a special talent with children.

This explained all my mini-patients resting. I walked quietly from bed to bed. Everyone was still sleeping, some dosed with the Draught of Living Death. It was a way to keep them alive while certain slow-brewing potions were being made to heal them.

I made a preventive diagnosis of each body and made a mental checklist of which potions I needed to request from the new potions master.

Just thinking about having to ask Narcissa gave me a headache. Even though it was her job to fulfil my requests, something told me the witch wouldn't do anything without a snarky comment that'd make me want to strangle her.

But I didn't want to worry about that at the moment.

It was a quiet day, at least in my ward of the hospital. Besides the constant tweaking of the healing spell on Weasley boy, most of the other injuries just required careful supervision and time.

A knock on the door drew my attention, and I turned to find Andromeda entering the room. "How's our Sleeping Beauty?"

"Still asleep," I sighed. "But I'm worried about the ginger lad." I pointed to the boy in the corner nearest the window. "I fear he might struggle to speak again, his frontal lobe was affected. Merlin, how I miss wizards barking over a simple jinx gone wrong."