Fourteen
Harry: Collateral Ailments
Due to the escalating hostilities, George had been unable to seek previous medical advice about his missing ear. Now that things were gradually returning to normal, Healers were optimistic about alternatives in spite of the dark magic that had caused the injury.
Molly was her usual ebullient self as the reminded everyone not to linger over breakfast that morning. “I don’t want to keep Healer Pye waiting,” she admonished.
“ ‘at name son’s famil’ar,” Ron mumbled as he stuffed his mouth full of toast.
“It should,” his mother returned. “He was one of those who treated your father’s snake bite. His ground-breaking ideas are just what we need.”
Of course, Harry recalled, Augustus Pye had suggested using stitches on Arthur’s wound. That had not been wholly successful, but such innovation was clearly mandated in George’s case.
“Wasn’t he the Healer who melded Muggle techniques with more traditional methods?” Hermione posed with undisguised curiosity.
Molly’s eyes shone brightly with hope as she nodded. “In this case, he feels we can take a small bit of George’s other ear and grow another right in the laboratory. Like cultivating a plant.”
“Sounds like magic to me,” Ron barely managed through his sausages.
“Muggles refer to that as cloning,” Harry volunteered, leaving Hermione open-mouthed in surprise.
Quickly recovering, she added, “That could certainly guarantee that the tissue was untainted by dark magic.”
“So Healer Pye explained to us,” Arthur concurred as he grabbed the last blueberry scone on his way out the door.
“So how does Harry fit in, Mum?” Ginny inquired with a private smile in his direction.
“Yeah,” Ron snorted. “What part of him needs re-growing?”
Molly flashed her youngest son a reproachful look as Hermione swatted Ron’s arm. Their antics kept the color from rising to Harry’s checks as much as he dreaded.
“Harry’s to see a specialist in sleep disorders,” Molly harrumphed. “Kingsley recommended as much to Arthur.” Turning her attention to George who was sitting impassively at the far end of the table, she urged, “We’re going to be late if you take your time, dear.”
“Sorry, Mum,” George muttered as he made a concentrated effort to assemble the remaining eggs and sausages into a makeshift sandwich between some rye toast. Ron watched with a greedy expression as his brother added a thick layer of butter and jam at the last moment.
As she oversaw the last of the preparations Molly explained that after his internship in the Creature Induced Injuries Ward, Pye had been accorded full status as a Healer. His work with accursed wounds had enabled him to oversee a new area of the Spell Damage Division dedicated to dark magic. Sadly, business was thriving and there were often long waiting periods for patients to be seen.
“If we’re late, who knows how long we’ll be forced to wait,” Molly grumbled as she fussed over George’s collar. She flashed a quick look at Harry’s untidy hair then shook her head helplessly.
“Will we be travelling on the Underground again, Mum?” Ginny asked, directing a merry look at Harry that translated: At least no one’s life is hanging in the balance this time.
“No, dear. We’ve been accorded special Floo access directly to Healer Pye’s floor.”
“Then why is Harry burdened with his Invisibility Cloak?” Ginny provoked.
“You’ll have to assist him to take a lift to a different floor. Healer Tudor was kind enough to work him into her busy schedule.”
As they lined up before the kitchen hearth, George leaned over and breathed in Harry’s ear, “In other words, the mob will attack if they find out you got in ahead of them.”
Harry turned to give him an appreciative grin but George was already stepping into the bright green flames, his face as stoic as ever.
“Don’t worry,” Hermione called out. “I’ll make sure to start the dishes to washing before we leave for Diagon Alley.”
“Not that there’ll be much other than crumbs by the time Ron finishes,” Ginny confided lowly.
“Just mind Verity,” Molly supplied. “She’ll make sure you know the ropes before setting you loose --”
The rest of Molly’s words were lost as Harry and Ginny stepped into the flames as one, her arm wrapped protectively around his despite the presence of the cloak.
St. Mungo’s Hospital for Magical Maladies was much the same as Harry remembered. Considerably less chaotic now that they’d bypassed the Welcome Witch on the ground floor.
Molly sent George to check in at the desk as she pointed Ginny towards a long featureless corridor. “That leads to the only lift that will take you to the mezzanine level,” she whispered. “Make some excuse if the cage is too full.”
They needn’t have worried, though, as the mesh doors opened to reveal a solitary woman with a gurgling baby in her arms. She barely glanced at Ginny before devoting her attention to the little boy who favored her with a gummy smile.
Harry felt a sharp pang as he thought of his godson, Teddy. How was Andromeda faring in that empty house with only a three-month-old infant for company? Molly had assured him that the constant caring for her grandson would act as a balm of sorts, but Harry was less certain. The devastation of losing her husband followed so closely by her only daughter and son-in-law had to be overwhelming. He resolved to pay her a visit as soon as he was feeling more like himself.
An elderly man with a cane joined them on the next floor as Ginny impatiently pressed the button for the mezzanine level.
In his nervousness, Harry longed to joke that at least they weren’t taking him to the Incurable Ward to join the likes of Gilderoy Lockhart. Even if he managed to whisper for Ginny’s ears only, her reaction alone might give him away. He could only imagine how much the Daily Prophet would give for a sighting of the elusive Boy-Who’s-Determined-to-Live-Out-of-the-Limelight. Would he make the front page or just the gossip columns? Once again, the urge to share his musings with Ginny was overpowering.
Sandwiched between the first and ground floors, the Collateral Ailments Ward had started as a tiny department devoted to hereditary conditions passed on from wizarding parents to their children. Since very few of these resisted magical treatment, it had mostly fielded inquiries from anxious parents who feared giving birth to a Squib like their third cousin, twice removed.
“A complete lack of magical ability is not hereditary,” the scheduling witch would explain patiently. “It’s a random happenstance. Rather like a witch or wizard being born to a thoroughly Muggle family, only much less common.”
With the advent of the war, however, Collateral Ailments had grown to also encompass those complaints which were indirectly caused by magic. Dark magic, in almost all cases. Harry had only recently learned that despite the postage-stamp waiting area, the interior rooms of the unit had been magically expanded a number of times in the past year.
The clerk at the desk was obviously expecting them, or rather Ginny, as he ushered her into the chief Healer’s office. At the sound of the door closing behind them, Harry threw off his cloak with relief.
It was a study in antiseptic surfaces, the polished aluminum of the desk top vying with the shining white tile walls. By comparison, the lime green robes of the elegantly coiffed Healer paled in intensity.
“Very pleased to meet you,” the Healer said as she offered each of them her hand. “I’m Sandrena Tudor, Mr. Potter. Arthur Weasley briefed me on your situation.” Taking in Ginny at his side, she added, “I take it you’re Arthur’s daughter?”
“Yes, Ginny. Do you wish me to leave you alone, Harry?”
He turned stricken eyes in her direction. “Is it all right if she stays?” he posed directly to the Healer.
“If you prefer. But that may change if I feel her presence is causing you to be less than candid with me.”
Harry nodded as he allowed Healer Tudor to ask him a series of probing questions. It was hardly anything that he hadn’t shared with Ginny beforehand. Molly knocked on the door just as the Healer was suggesting that Harry surrender himself to a brief physical examination to rule out any lingering spell damage.
“By your own account, you sustained two direct hits from You-Know-Who’s wand,” the Healer noted with concern.
“I’ll keep Ginny company, dear,” Molly offered as she patted Harry reassuringly on the shoulder.
He allowed himself to be led away by an assistant who emphasized that only a few minutes of his time were needed. What did it matter that Madam Pomfrey had already given him a going over in the wake of the final battle? Before the door leading deeper into the suite of offices clicked shut, Harry overheard Molly indicate that she had a few things to discuss with Healer Tudor herself.
He returned within a quarter hour to find the three women waiting patiently. A quick review of the clipboard proffered by the Auxiliary Healer revealed a clean bill of health. That ruled out, the primary Healer outlined that the next step was to observe Harry’s sleep pattern to make sure his body wasn’t displaying any physical symptoms of a sleep disorder. Some of these could be hereditary, but since so little was known about Harry’s birth parents, she insisted on being extra thorough. At the same time, he would keep a log of the nightmares he experienced. She released him for the day with the understanding that he would return at nine that evening.
“I’ll be here to see that you’re settled properly,” Healer Tudor assured him with a disarming smile. “I’ll enable the small hearth in my personal office so your comings and goings will be strictly private.”
It was fitting that he should find himself in the kitchen at Privet Drive, the sterile surfaces of St. Mungo’s morphing seamlessly into Petunia’s gleaming white counters. As his closest friends gathered to create the seven decoys, the one true Harry had an epiphany.
Grabbing a used grocer’s receipt (Petunia wouldn’t have any use for it now), Harry looked wildly about for a pen. A quill, a crayon, anything! In true dream fashion, none were to be found anywhere. Feverishly, Harry pulled out drawer after drawer, even searching inside his uncle’s roll-top desk to no avail.
“Use your wand,” Hermione whispered in his ear. “Remember how I marked the doors…”
It was as if the knowledge had instantaneously leapt from her head into his. With complete confidence, Harry made the unfamiliar wand motions and hissed, “Flagrate controllis!”
The very tip of his wand glowing like a lit cigarette, Harry scrawled his words in the air directly above the paper. The letters were burned into the white fibers below, his message lettered in brown ink:
Dear Luna,
Please care for this owl until I am able to retrieve her in person. Your rapport with animals will win her over at once.
“Hedwig!” Harry called as he located her cage among those of the stuffed poseurs which had her swiveling her regal head in consternation. Immediately, the flesh and blood owl turned her yellow eyes in his direction. He made as if to unlatch her cage only to find Mad-Eye Moody at his elbow.
“No time to retool the plan,” Moody grumbled. “We’re in a time crunch as it is.”
Don’t you see? Harry’s mind screamed. Hedwig’s the key. How could he not have seen it earlier? It was so ruddy obvious! She was the first thing that made him see the beauty of the magical world that was being handed to him on his eleventh birthday. If the magic died with her, they were all doomed!
“Wait, Alastor,” Remus ventured as he drew close. “A secondary diversion is a rather brilliant notion when you think on it.”
Moody’s swirling eye turned to regard the werewolf critically. “There’s only one! How can that confuse even the most spectacularly stupid Death Eater?”
“There doesn’t have to be!” Tonks announced as she hopped down from Petunia’s washing machine. With a complicated wand movement that also seemed to involve a tight series of dance steps, Tonks weaved among the extra cages. Toy owls transformed into snow white birds before their eyes. “The illusion won’t last more than an hour or so,” she warned.
“Hardly standard Auror procedure,” Moody growled.
“All the more reason why it will fly right below their radar,” Fred chimed in.
“Pardon the pun,” George interjected to a chorus of nervous chuckles.
“Fine!” Moody capitulated. “But all owls must bear messages as well.”
Six pairs of hands flew towards the canister where Petunia squirreled her receipts; and in moments, seven owls were ready to take flight.
“Make sure you direct them away from any safe houses,” Remus cautioned as he assured Harry that the Lovegood residence was not involved in the rest of their plan.
That hurdle cleared, the events continued in the familiar manner as the true Harry’s eyes gleamed with triumph. The aerial battle unfolded in quick succession, Harry landing in a heap atop a Hagrid-sized mound in the back meadow of the Burrow.
Harry grabbed the half-giant by the lapels and brought his stunned face inches from his own. “We’re at the Burrow, Hagrid!”
Still fuzzy from the impact, Hagrid mumbled, “Yeah, right. Las’ minute change o’ plan, tha’.”
“Why?” Harry demanded, instantly on alert for the smallest variation that might make everything unravel.
Hagrid scratched his shaggy head as he took a moment to recover. “Bellatrix,” he began as if dredging up the memory from deep within his brain. “Paid a visit ta the Tonks residence. Claimin’ ta offer congratulations ‘bout the marriage, but Andromeda was instantly suspicious.”
“I didn’t think they were on speaking terms,” Harry supplied.
“They’re not. Not for twenty years o’ more. Sniffin’ about fer somethin’ else, no doubt. Didn’t have time ta line up another safe house, so the Burrow it was!”
Harry couldn’t find a hole in the explanation so he put it aside as Ginny and Molly ran out to meet them.
“You all right, Hagrid?” Molly inquired as she tried with all her might to help the burly man to his feet. With Harry grabbing the other hand and adding his body weight, they finally managed it.
“And you?” Ginny crooned as she grabbed Harry in a fierce hug. Before he could mumble “fine”, she crushed his lips with hers in a long and lingering kiss.
If he hadn’t been winded before, he certainly was when they broke apart amid disapproving clucks from Molly. Harry doubted his embarrassment was evident in the darkness, but flashed an apologetic grin towards the onlookers nevertheless.
They were escorted towards the Burrow as Hedwig swept out to greet Harry. Hooting happily around his head, she swung back to Luna’s outstretched arm.
“She’s lovely,” Luna cooed. “Do you want her back already?”
Harry smiled into Luna’s innocent expression. “Not just yet. I have a few errands that may keep me away…” He stopped himself before he went too far as Molly was clearly trying to avoid looking like she was listening.
“You don’t mind if I introduce her to Father then,” Luna proposed as she glanced in the direction of her tower home. “He was busy with the presses when she flew up.”
Within moments, Luna’s corn silk mane faded out of sight as she worked her way over the adjoining hillside.
Inside the cozy kitchen, Harry and Hagrid settled themselves to await the others’ return. The minutes stretched into hours, straining their nerves to the breaking point. Even Molly forgot to offer them tea as she paced nervously from one end of the narrow room to the other.
“It’ll be fine,” Ginny attempted to soothe. “If the others were set upon like Harry was, they may have been forced to improvise.” Nonetheless, her grip tightened around his hand under the table.
Molly wrung her apron as the dire possibilities flashed through her mind. Standing sentinel, the family clock still showed all hands pointed to ‘mortal peril’ “ even for the two Weasleys who were present.
The floor heaved up moments before the sound reached their ears. Wands drawn, they rushed as one towards the windows only to be met with impenetrable darkness. Soundlessly, Molly motioned for everyone else to wait while she inched her way towards the back door.
Before she was halfway there, the door crashed open and Moody hobbled in. Harry’s heart leaped at the sight of the madly whirling eye: Moody had survived this time!
“We’ve been betrayed!” Moody yowled. “Death Eaters from all directions. They barely hesitated with the other decoys, convinced that I had the genuine article!”
“What happened to ‘Dung?” Molly inquired fearfully.
“Scarpered as if his tail was on fire!” Moody growled.
“Panic or guilt?” Harry posed through cautious lips.
Moody threw up his hands in disgust. “Who knows? Or cares at this point. Here, lad, at least I saved you this.”
With a quick swish, Moody sent Harry’s beloved Firebolt in his direction.
Before they could ask after anyone else, a series of crashes and raised voices drew them all into the backyard. A white-faced Fleur raced up with tears streaming down her face. A few steps behind, Arthur, too, had returned alone looking as if he’d aged a decade in the space of a few hours time.
“ ‘Eet was ‘orrrible!” Fleur wailed. “Fire een ze sky! Bill ees…” She hiccupped as her eyes beseeched everyone in turn. “ ‘Ee ees lost!” she sobbed into Molly’s open arms.
Molly raised a helpless face to Arthur’s sad head shake even as she murmured assurances about rescue teams into Fleur’s hair.
Harry had barely torn his eyes away when his attention was drawn by a tight knot of people near the derelict pond, one tall ginger head among them. He raced towards them to find Ron, Hermione, and Kingsley staring down at the crumbled figure of Tonks on the ground. Remus was kneeling at her side, his face drawn in anguish.
“I’m sorry, Remus,” Ron was repeating softly, his voice breaking with emotion. “I’m so sorry. It was all I could do to catch her body as George was hit in the chest…”
Remus nodded like a broken doll as his shoulders hitched with sobs.
NO! Harry railed internally as he caught fistfuls of hair in hands. It can’t be! Without Tonks, little Teddy will never be born! And to lose Bill and both twins in the bargain was just too much!
His body thrashed in despair in the narrow hospital bed until he managed to wake himself up. Harry jammed his glasses on his face and made quick notes on the pad beside his bed as instructed.
With a heavy sigh, he swallowed the salty tears and laid back on the pillow to wait for nightmare number two. It was going to be a long night.
The recent return of his best mates proved fertile ground for his subconscious as the nightmares spun out in new intensity. Not only did he bear witness to Ginny’s battered corpse, but now he relived finding the charred remains of Ron and Hermione consumed by Fiendfyre in the desolate embers of the Room of Requirement. The resemblance to blackened holocaust victims was inescapable.
Another scenario had a tearful Tonks confessing to Harry that Hermione had thrown herself before Bellatrix and been cut down for her bravery. Ron’s cry of anguish was akin to a werewolf’s howl amid the scarred battlements of Hogwarts. In the next moment, Harry was frantically digging through a collapsed portion of wall to find Ron’s broken body next to that of his brother, Fred.
Bellatrix returned in all her evil glory to torture Hermione repeatedly in the overwrought parlor of Malfoy Manor, forcing Ron to watch her administer the Cruciatus Curse until Hermione could take no more. Ron impaled himself on the woman’s long knife as he sought to avenge Hermione’s murder. Harry barely escaped to Shell Cottage with three graves to dig during the night.
He revisited the lonely expanses of woodland where they had camped throughout the fall and early winter, Ron’s desertion stinging just as poignantly as before. This time, Harry convinced Hermione to stay a second night in the same spot despite the extra risk. They came upon Ron’s bound body the next morning as they broke camp. With hearts racing, they feverishly strained to untie knots that burned their bare fingers with ice and snow. Their success was met with Ron’s form dissolving into that of Wormtail who gave them a fiendish look of triumph. The real Ron yelled a strangled warning from the shadows as Snatchers descended upon Harry and Hermione from all sides.
Harry decided he’d had enough when Fenrir Greyback bounced the captured Deluminator in his yellowed hand and growled, “Right handy tool, this. Thanks for the early Christmas gift! Next time, pick friends who aren’t such gormless toerags, Potter. Not that there’s ever going to be a next time for you!”
Slapping his glasses on his face with finality, Harry flicked his wand towards the wall switch to flood the featureless room with light. He didn’t rightly care what time of day or night it was; he was done with this experiment.
“Is there a Healer on duty?” he asked the startled night nurse in the hallway.
The shock on her face indicated that she had recognized him, but he couldn’t have cared less at that point. “Right away, M-m-mister Potter,” she stammered.
“Tell them I’m ready to check out!” he brazenly called after her retreating form.
The Auxiliary Healer arrived with a barely suppressed yawn. With a woeful look, he took in Harry’s wrinkled pajamas. “Anything the matter?”
“I’d like to go home if it’s not too much trouble. Maybe catch a few winks in a less stressful environment.”
The Healer looked down at his clipboard in confusion. “But you indicated you were having trouble sleeping…”
“Incessant nightmares. I’ve detailed the particulars on the pad next to the bed. After eight different versions of why I’m a worthless wanker, I’ve reached my limit. That should give Healer Tudor enough to work with. I’ll just check in with her about midday if that’s all right with you.”
“No, it’s not all right. Look here, mate, I’m responsible for you --”
“I’ll sign whatever document you want. Say that I’m leaving against your express wishes….”
A slight cough announced another presence behind them. Harry heaved a sigh of relief to find Arthur and Ginny standing in the prosaic corridor. “Thank Merlin, you got my Patronus! I wasn’t certain I was making any sense.”
“It’s all right, son,” Arthur affirmed. “Your desire to be elsewhere came through loud and clear.”
“This is highly irregular…” the Healer made as if to protest.
“That’s probably what they’ll be saying about the clerk in the front office when Mum gets through with him,” Ginny whispered into Harry’s ear as she caught him up in an exuberant hug.
He looked up to find a protective-looking Molly flanking the chief Healer.
“Mr. Potter is not officially here, Healer Jenkins,” Healer Tudor observed as she leaned across him to make a quick notation. “The Minister vouches for him.”
With a wordless huff, Jenkins deposited the clipboard on the bed and resumed his other rounds.
“Now, Harry, if I let you go home with these good people, will you come back later this afternoon to discuss your situation?”
“If that’s what’s needed,” he agreed.
“It’s a start,” Healer Tudor affirmed. “I’ll review your notes and the visuals in the meanwhile.” She frowned slightly at the stack of scribbled notes. “Did you keep it brief?”
“As much as I could. One page per nightmare as instructed. I’ll fill in the details later.”
“Come,” Molly urged as she ushered them towards the Floo connection that had been hastily established at the end of the deserted floor. “Ginny will keep you company as you doze in the living room.”
“At least until the sizzle of bacon lures you awake,” Arthur promised with an encouraging smile.
“I’ve had a bit of time to confer with the Minister,” Healer Tudor began as Harry took a seat in her office. “Not that I always bring him in on my cases; but as a former Auror, he’s seen a lot of battle-related issues. Though not usually in one so young.”
“Aren’t Aurors trained to deal with such stress?” Harry posed with genuine interest.
“To some degree. But anyone can get overwhelmed at times. It’s not an admission of weakness, not by any means.”
“So what’s the remedy?”
“Time,” she supplied succinctly. “I know it’s not what you wanted to hear, but it’s the only antidote to grief. Those who choose to medicate themselves into dreamless sleep just delay the natural healing process.”
“Then I’m not a raving nutter?” Harry dared with a wide grin.
“No one ever said you were. But the side-effects of sleep deprivation can be serious if it goes on long enough. Usually, sheer exhaustion acts as your body’s shut off valve to keep things from getting out of control.”
Harry barely covered his mouth before a huge yawn overtook him.
Looking him in the eye, the Healer volunteered, “You’re wondering how an excess of yawning can be so dangerous?” She waited until Harry nodded before continuing, “Go too long without proper rest and lack of coordination will be the least of your worries. You’ll be seeing your wildest dreams come to life before you. Hallucinations will meld so perfectly with reality that you won’t really know which is which.”
“Does that happen often?” Harry considered.
“Very rarely. Sleep takes over. But it shouldn’t surprise you to learn that enforced sleep deprivation has been used as a form of torture. It’s no less cruel that starving someone to death.” At Harry flummoxed expression, she added, “I find it intriguing that you’ve already found a way to keep the demons at bay by using Ginny as a reality check of sorts.”
Harry acknowledged the truth of her words. “Her parents aren’t too keen on the notion.”
“Gives rise to lots of other possibilities,” she observed. “I suppose what concerns me is whether those other notions have occurred to you?”
Harry blushed at the gist of her question. “Sure, but I’m a guest in their home.”
“Spoken like a well-mannered young man. Now, tell me the truth.”
“It’s a private matter,” Harry demurred.
“As it should be.”
“There isn’t anything to tell,” he argued.
“Yet? Or never?”
“If you’re that determined to know whether I fancy girls, the answer is a very emphatic yes.”
“Didn’t doubt it for a minute, actually.” Very precisely, she pressed, “No circumventing the question, though.”
“You’re not going to let this go are you?”
“No. It’s right of passage that should be at the forefront of any young mind.”
“I didn’t say it wasn’t.”
“Then what do you intend to do about it?”
“Nothing at the moment,” he sighed. “I don’t have a lot of options. Her brother -- that’s my best mate, Ron -- practically went ballistic when she drew me into her room for a bit of a snog last summer.”
“So where do you go on dates?”
“Nowhere. I’ve been off on a mission for the past year while she’s been at school. We’ve only had time together since the end of the war.”
“Seems to me you’d be making up for lost time,” she insisted.
“Why does this matter to you?”
“Because I’m a Healer dealing with a patient who’s avoiding a partial remedy to his problems.”
Harry’s jaw dropped. “Surely you don’t mean…”
“Life is to be lived, Harry. The more you focus on the here and now “ or even the future “ the less hold the past will have on you.”
“The Weasleys aren’t going to take to your suggestions, you know.”
With a raised eyebrow, Healer Tudor emphasized, “I have no intention of sharing them with anyone other than you. But before you think me totally unprincipled, let me remind you that it’s no different than what would be a normal course of action for an Auror who needed a bit of time to recuperate.”
Clearly intrigued, Harry delved, “Do such Aurors rest at home?”
“Sometimes. Certainly those with families might prefer to do so. Others find that a change of scenery helps their thinking to get out of a rut.”
“A fresh perspective.”
“Exactly.”
“What’s to keep them from total debauchery?”
The Healer laughed at Harry’s irreverence. “The same as the rest of us: their conscience. But I wasn’t about to suggest you take up with a band of white slavers, just have a bit of a holiday.”
“Alone? Doesn’t sound very appealing, thanks anyway.”
“Not totally alone. Interaction with the staff is absolutely required.”
“Medical staff?”
“They’re more like activity directors to hear it.”
“Still sounds rather lonely to me.”
“What if I told you your friends could visit at will and you might be able to convince Ginny to accompany you?”
“I’d think you were taking the mickey. Her parents would never agree.”
“Is that a dare?”
Harry was left speechless.
“If I can get them to agree that Ginny will be there to coax you through your recovery, will you consent to go?” she emphasized.
“Sight unseen? Not on your life.”
As if she’d been waiting for this, the Healer removed a small glossy brochure from her desk drawer. “See for yourself then.”
Harry peered at the picturesque vistas along a rugged coastline, the deep blue water making him think of the Mediterranean. “Do the views come with bars or just netting?”
“Neither, but the cliffs are spelled to avoid any falls. You’re not a cliff-diver, are you?”
Harry chuckled as he shook his head.
“See the little white-washed cottages?” She pointed those out in the photo. “The larger ones have extra rooms for visitors.”
“Let me guess, group activities at the sound of a whistle?”
“That’s a children’s summer camp. I wager you’ve outgrown that.”
“Then what would you call this?” He waved his hand vaguely over the glossy foldout.
“An exclusive spa for the rejuvenation of the mind and spirit. You don’t have to see anyone other than your advisor if you’d prefer. Albus Dumbledore himself established it for wizards who needed a temporary refuge of sorts.”
“Sounds pricey,” Harry countered.
“Ministry offered to pick up the tab. They must really want to recruit you.”
“Does this obligate me in any way?”
“Not if your advisor has anything to do with it. Why don’t you read the brochure?”
“And you’ll accept that Ginny coming along is non-negotiable?”
She gave him a playful pout. “You still don’t think I can make it happen, do you?”
“Not entirely,” he admitted. “But it might be fun just watching you try. You’re on, doctor.”