To Harry's surprise, Professor Dumbledore, Madam Pomfrey and Mrs. Weasley were all at St. Mungo's to meet them when he and Snape walked into the Hyacinth A. Hammerlich Memorial Auror's Ward the next morning. Professor Dumbledore and Madam Pomfrey were sitting in front of a formidable looking witch at a plain wooden desk, filling out a pile of forms. The witch at the desk was scrutinizing a scroll. Her eyes, behind very large round green-framed glasses, flicked over to Snape and Harry as they entered the room and she idly waved her wand at a door across the room. A ball of blue light flew out of the tip of her wand and hovered above the door, where a transom made it visible in the next room.

Mrs. Weasley hurried over to Harry and met him with a comfortable hug. As always, she smelled of cinnamon and tea. Harry returned the hug. It seemed like a very long time since he had seen her at Hogwarts.

"You're looking well, Harry dear," she said. "Looks like you're getting enough sun and enough sleep." She studied him again and frowned at his bound arm. "Except for the arm, of course. But they'll get that all sorted out here, right as rain, right Severus?" She turned to Snape, smiling again and obviously seeking his affirmation.

"Of course, Molly," answered Snape. smoothly. "I have already assured Mr. Potter that the treatment will be successful and he'll be back on a broom playing Quidditch soon after term starts."

"Wait…you didn't say 'soon after' term starts," protested Harry.

"I didn't give you any timeframe at all, did I Mr. Potter?" responded Snape. "I would have thought you'd be overjoyed to be back on a broom as early as September, hmm? After all, wasn't it only last year that you were banned from Quidditch for life?"

Harry rolled his eyes and Snape smirked. Molly looked from one to the other in confusion. Harry thought she had probably expected him to react to Snape's teasing more violently.

"Have you heard from Ron and Ginny, Mrs. Weasley?" asked Harry, changing the topic entirely. While it hadn't yet been three weeks since they'd left with the Grangers for the States, he was more than ready for their return—he had so much to tell them and missed the owls he was accustomed to receiving from them in the summertime.

"Why, yes, yes I have," she answered warmly. "They'll be back home on Tuesday. Ginny and Hermione are having a lovely time, though I think Ron feels rather the odd man out. Didn't like the aeroplane much—wanted to charm the seats bigger and according to Ginny, complained rather loudly about the quality of the food. Embarrassed them all by asking for Butterbeer… But anyway, they're all having a lovely time in Boston but of course" (she was watching Harry's face carefully as she spoke) "would be so much happier if you could be there with them."

Harry didn't get a chance to reply. A mediwizard, dressed in the lime green robes of St Mungo's, had entered the room through the door with the light over it and was eyeing the crowd of people, looking slightly confused. His eyes finally settled on Snape and he hurried over to the small group. Harry thought that he had decided that Snape was the one person in the group that looked like he could potentially be an Auror. Dumbledore and Madam Pomfrey, with their distinctive clothing and distinctive ages, were out. He was far too young and Mrs. Weasley, well, Mrs. Weasley looked about as much like an auror as Hagrid did.

"Healer Gannon," said Snape before the healer could address him. He obviously read the healer's name from the embroidered letters over the breast pocket on the garishly-colored robe. "I am Severus Snape, a Professor at Hogwarts. This is Molly Weasley. We are both here with Mr. Potter, standing in for his Muggle aunt and uncle, who have given permission for his treatment."

The healer shook each of their hands in turn then turned to Harry, his eyebrows practically jumping into his hairline when he connected the name to the face and realized exactly who his patient was.

"I…I wasn't told Mr. Potter would be my patient today. Normally….well, normally I treat Aurors in this ward…" He looked over to the admissions desk and Harry followed his gaze. Dumbledore and Madam Pomfrey were still filling out paperwork—Madam Pomfrey seemed to be consulting a thick stack of parchment in a worn file folder.

"Well, Mr. Potter is clearly not an Auror," replied Snape. "He's going to have to bring up his abysmal Potions marks if he has a prayer of making it into the Auror Corps." He looked significantly at Harry. Harry stared back at him wide-eyed.

"You mean there's even a chance?" he said, stressing the word 'chance' and looking like Christmas had come early instead of like he'd just been grievously insulted. It didn't even occur to him to protest that his potions scores would be a lot higher if Draco Malfoy stopped lobbing volatile ingredients in his cauldron when he had his head turned.

"A glimmer. We will discuss your OWL scores soon—I believe they are due out mid-week. But because of your successful mission with Professor Dumbledore the other night, I'd surmise there is a more than reasonable chance that the minimum score for NEWT level potions is now an E rather than an O."

Snape then turned back to the Mediwizard. "Special arrangements have been made to treat Mr. Potter in this ward. The need for privacy and security is paramount, and he is being treated for a condition often seen in the Auror Corps—nerve damage from prolonged Cruciatus. That damage," he added, as Healer Gannon's eyes locked on Harry's right arm which was still bound tightly to his chest with a sling, "was exacerbated by a serious injury from a Muggle car accident a week before."

The healer broke his gaze away from Harry and focused back on Snape and Mrs. Weasley.

"Well then, we can take care of a few preliminary items while Headmaster Dumbledore finishes the admission paperwork." He glanced over at the table where Dumbledore, Madam Pomfrey and the Admissions Witch were still working, verifying, it seemed to Harry, that it indeed was the Hogwarts Headmaster sitting there. "We won't be able to check Mr. Potter in or do any testing until they complete the paperwork but we can get his vitals."

He led Harry, with Snape and Mrs. Weasley following, to a small alcove and had Harry step on a scale. He recorded his weight—63 kilos—and then measured and recorded his height.

"168 centimeters," commented Mrs. Weasley. "You've got a few on Ginny now."

Well, that made him feel just great. He was now taller than Ginny.

But Mrs. Weasley was still talking. "I always did think you'd shoot up eventually. Your father was fairly tall, after all."

Harry looked over at Mrs. Weasley. "Was he?" he said. "I didn't know…"

"He and Lupin were nearly the same height," said Snape, his voice neutral. Harry thought Lupin was above average in height, but certainly not a tall man. But Lupin still had several inches on him.

Healer Gannon had handed Harry a cup while they chatted and now pointed to a closed door and unapologetically said "We'll need a urine sample."

Harry reddened as he took the cup, avoiding looking at Snape or Mrs. Weasley. "Just leave the cup on the ledge in there," instructed Healer Gannon . Harry huffed slightly. He'd had physicals before as they were required each year for Quidditch players, but he'd never had one with anyone other than Madam Pomfrey participating. He was just relieved he didn't have to come traipsing back out afterwards, carrying the filled cup and handing it over to Healer Gannon in front of Snape and Mrs. Weasley.

Heart-rate and blood pressure were next, and by the time Healer Gannon had recorded the results in what Harry assumed was his chart, Professor Dumbledore and Madam Pomfrey were standing and beckoning Harry over.

"Left wrist," said the Admittance Witch crisply. Harry stuck out his arm and a very lightweight metal bracelet looped around his wrist and settled comfortably against his arm. "Basil Fawlty?" He looked up at Snape, who was giving Dumbledore a pointed look.

"Code name while you're in here, Harry," said Dumbledore quietly. "It's only for the official records—the healers working with you will know who you are."

"But Basil?" hissed Harry. "And Fawlty? Sounds like there's something wrong with me! Like I'm a rejected herb or something."

"It's only for a few days, Basil," said Snape in a "we'll discuss this later" kind of voice. Harry wisely backed off.

Dumbledore rested his good hand on Harry's shoulder. "Unfortunately, Harry, Madam Pomfrey and I must get back to Hogwarts now. The Ministry officials should be finishing the rewarding by Sunday and we are looking forward to having you back with us once they are gone." Harry wondered if he looked as nervous as he felt, for Dumbledore squeezed his shoulder. "All will be well—you are in very good hands here. Mrs. Weasley has agreed to stay here with Professor Snape while you are treated so if you need anything—anything at all—please let one of them know."

Harry glanced over at Snape and Mrs. Weasley as Dumbledore and Madam Pomfrey headed over to the floo. Mrs. Weasley smiled back at him but Snape was watching the mediwizard with narrowed eyes. Harry thought he looked suspicious of the man and Harry hoped that Snape didn't recognize him from Death Eater meetings.

"We'll do the first tests in Mr. Potter's room," said the healer and they followed him through the door with the light bulb over it down a short hallway and into a circular chamber with small cubicles around its edges. Each had a curtain, and several were pulled shut. He led Harry into one whose curtain was open and directed him to sit on the bed. Snape and Mrs. Weasley entered the crowded cubicle behind him and both moved to the opposite side of the narrow bed, where two uncomfortable looking straight-back chairs were placed side by side.

"We'll need a blood sample first," said Healer Gannon, taking a small vial out of his robe pocket. There was no needle on the vial, and Harry wondered how wizards extracted blood. Perhaps magic was used to transfer the blood from his veins to the vial?

But when the healer opened a drawer against the wall and pulled out a small silver dagger-shaped knife, Harry paled.

"I'll numb your arm first, Mr. Potter, so you won't feel…What? What's the matter? Haven't you ever had a blood sample taken before?"

Harry had begun to shake uncontrollably, and Snape was suddenly in front of him, hands resting firmly on his shoulders. "Lie back and close your eyes, Harry. Molly will hold your other hand. I will remain right here." He didn't offer any explanation to the healer, and Harry was grateful. He nodded his head, still unable to think of anything but Wormtail coming at him with the dagger in the graveyard after the Triwizard Tournament, of Wormtail taking his blood—blood of the enemy, forcibly taken—to resurrect Voldemort. Mrs. Weasley had taken his right hand, holding it firmly. He wished he could squeeze back but couldn't manage it with the limited function he currently had. On his other side, Snape had seated himself on the edge of the bed and had placed his arm behind Harry's shoulders. Harry gratefully leaned into Snape and kept his eyes closed. The familiar smell, both smoky and herbal, helped calm him.

It was over quickly and didn't hurt, but it wasn't fear of pain that had put Harry in this state. He remained reclined on the bed, still wearing his street clothes and new trainers, while Healer Gannon removed the bandages and sling on this right arm and began an examination of the arm itself. Harry relaxed—this was familiar territory again. The healer began by running the tip of his wand down the arm from elbow to wrist, much as Snape had done a few days ago. He followed this by a thorough test of strength and range of motion of the arm and all of its joints, and then conducted a sensitivity test using pin-prick like pressure on at least twenty different places on his right arm, followed by a similar test on his left. A floating quill and parchment recorded all the results. Harry did not particularly enjoy the flares of pain that accompanied the motion testing and by the time the healer was finished, wished only for a sandwich, his book and a long nap. Finally, Healer Gannon picked up his wand again.

"One more test and we will be finished," he said briskly. "I'm going to perform a deep scan of your right arm and hand to check for previous injuries that may be contributing to your current problems or that may affect your treatment options." Harry tried to quickly catalog those previous injuries—which arm had the basilisk bitten?—but was distracted as the healer cast the spell with both complex wand movement and complicated Latin wording. An opaque pillow of warmth surrounded Harry's arm, glowing faintly. The quill wrote busily as Healer Gannon moved his wand slowly and the pillow exerted pressure on different areas as they glowed white briefly.

The healer didn't seem satisfied once the white glow had progressively moved from shoulder to fingertips and the test was apparently over. Harry saw him glance at Snape and Mrs. Weasley as he began to repeat the test. Snape's dark eyes were focused on Harry's arm, where the white glow remained on three different areas. Harry stared, transfixed, understanding. He caught Snape's eyes. Snape was frowning.

"Problem?" asked Snape, shortly, as Healer Gannon pocketed his wand and plucked the parchment out of the air.

"Well, yes, frankly there is," he said as he reviewed the notes on the parchment. "You mentioned the Cruciatus, and there is certainly residual damage from that—two times in the last year or so." He looked up to confirm that. Both Snape and Mrs. Weasley were staring at Harry.

"Twice?" said Mrs. Weasley, rather weakly.

It was hard for Harry to believe that it had been little more than a year since the first time he had experienced that curse. "In the graveyard, after the third task," he muttered. He guessed from her reaction that she hadn't been aware of everything he had suffered there.

"From You-Know-Who?" she said faintly. "He was the one who cursed you?"

Harry nodded, looking down at his hands in his lap.

"There is something else?" Snape's voice was soft yet demanding. Though Harry was not looking at any of the adults in the room, he knew Snape was addressing Healer Gannon.

Healer Gannon took out his wand again and muttered a brief spell. "Malum Ostenus."

The back of Harry's hand and two spots on his forearm began to glow brightly and a thin but bright line drew itself from his shoulder to his fingers, splitting in two below his elbow and then radiating out from his wrist to the tip of each finger.

Mrs. Weasley looked confused.

Snape looked vaguely disturbed.

But Harry understood.

He flexed his hand slightly. "The blood quill," he said. He then pointed at the second spot of light. "The basilisk fang."

"Blood quill? What is this…? Severus?"

Snape raised a hand to silence her. "Go on, Harry. The others?"

Harry grimaced. The phoenix tears had healed the spot where the fang had pierced him, leaving him only the memory of the event. The last bright spot, however, covered a scar as well as a memory.

"The graveyard," he said, touching the spot briefly. "This is where Wormtail took the blood to resurrect Voldemort."

All three adults cringed when he spoke the Dark Lord's name. Harry thought Healer Gannon was shaking. He'd probably bolt from the room soon.

Healer Gannon pointed at the line running down the entire arm.

"And this?" His voice definitely shook a bit.

Snape spoke before Harry could.

"Gilderoy Lockhart."

The Healer's eyebrows rose.

"Mr. Potter suffered a bad break to his arm from a cursed bludger during a Quidditch match his second year at Hogwarts. Lockhart attempted to heal the arm but only succeeded in vanishing his bones. They were regrown with Skele-gro."

The healer cancelled the spell and the bright light seemed to drop back into Harry's arm, warming it pleasantly.

"Well, this changes quite a bit," said the healer. "We are going to have to deal with the residual dark magic before stripping and regrowing the nerves. Get comfortable, Mr. Potter, we're going to have to call in another specialist."

Harry's face had fallen and he scooted backward in the bed until he was sitting with his legs drawn up, leaning against the headboard. Mrs. Weasley pulled her chair in closer to the bed.

Snape gave Harry what could only be interpreted as a sympathetic look before he left the small cubicle purposefully. Harry could hear him exchanging words with the healer, but they must have walked some distance away as the words were muffled and hard to make out.

Harry sighed. He looked over at Mrs. Weasley.

"If I'm still here Tuesday, can Ginny, Ron and Hermione come visit?"

Mrs. Weasley ruffled his hair affectionately. "Tuesday is a long way away. A lot can happen in that time."

Harry had a bad feeling about that.