I Don't Want to be a Hero - Ch. 4

3 Weeks Later - 22 Sept. 1991

Albus Dumbledore drummed his fingers upon the surface of his desk. He scratched his chin beneath his long, white beard, sighed, and re-read the report that had been sent to him: Harry Potter had been found. Of course the report said much more but that was the gist of it; that was the part that was important.

The Headmaster glanced up as Severus Snape walked casually into his office. "You requested my presence, Headmaster?" His voice was sulky as if he had been busy with something more important than meeting with the Headmaster.

"Severus, do stop. I understand you are angry with me, and that you will show it whenever it is feasible. However I do not have the time for your pique today."

"No time? I suppose this might raise your attention; we have another Muggle-born in the Infirmary after a class with Professor Quirrell. I just spoke to Poppy Pomfrey.  She does not expect Miss Clearwater to survive the night."

Albus head snapped up in shock to face the smug, yet grim look upon Professor Snape's features. "You needn't look so satisfied, Severus!" thundered Albus.

A gasp came whisperingly from all the portraits of the past Heads of Hogwarts. Severus himself stiffened and wiped his face of any emotion. Still his black eyes glittered dangerously; he had warned Albus that something was dangerously wrong with the twitchy professor but the Headmaster had been too preoccupied with the disappearance of his pet Gryffindor.

Justin Finch-Fletchly had been released from the Infirmary two days ago after receiving burns from a spell given to a Hufflepuff by Defence Against the Dark Arts Professor Quirrell. Justin's burns had caused damage to his wand arm, and hand. He would bear scarring for the rest of his life.

Hermione Granger, another Muggle-Born was still in the Infirmary after being hit with a Slippery Hex during a supposedly mock battle. She had struck her head upon a desk and had fractured her skull. She was recovering and would do so fully but a fractured skull did not heal quickly as it required a particular Bone Re-Growth Potion that Severus had to brew once a day.

That very afternoon fifth year Penelope Clearwater of Ravenclaw was struck by an Entrail Twisting Curse no student ought to know. Although Professor Quirrel claimed to have stopped the curse Poppy said it was too late and she was unable to reverse the damage. Penelope would die that evening suffering from great pain.

"Miss Clearwater's death will bring the Ministry, Headmaster. Miss Granger, and Mr Finch-Fletchley's accidents might have been easily dismissed but this is a death under suspicious circumstances; too similar to when Moaning Myrtle was killed. You do recall how that affected Headmaster Dippet, do you not?" Severus glanced up at the portrait of the very Headmaster he referred to.

Armando Dippet's portrait sighed heavily, "It was a grievous year, as you well know from the history, Albus. You cannot ignore what sits right on the end of your nose." He clucked his tongue.

Albus' lips thinned, "You want me to arrest a man on mere suspicion? Armando? Severus?"

"Are you waiting for your Pet Saviour to come back and deal with Quirrell, Dumbledore? Potter is gone. He ran like the coward he was. He will not return," spat Severus.

Albus slapped the paper before him. "On the contrary, Professor Snape!" snapped Albus angrily. Lifting the paper he threw it at Snape who caught it.

The report was not something official; it was a Muggle newspaper. It had been folded in such a way as to reveal an article and accompanying photo. The photo was of a hospital patient. In the article the hospital was seeking the help of the public to identify a young, male comatose patient. Severus frowned at the unmoving image that was clearly young Harry Potter.

"The Muggles are claiming a possible car accident, but if you read the symptoms..."

"The Cruciatus Curse," breathed Severus sharply.

Albus nodded. "Harry ran, I am certain, but once he was away from the protection of the castle I believe he was found by an escaped Death Eater who tortured him." Albus stood and walked around his desk. He took the newspaper from the younger wizard. "I need you to bring Harry back so that Madame Pomfrey can assess his damage."

"And, what of Quirrell?" asked Snape. "The moment he hears of Miss Clearwater's death..."

"He hasn't yet, Severus, and he will not," the Headmaster assured stubbornly. "Bring back Harry Potter, Severus."

Snape nodded sharply once, turned on his heel, and left.

The boy in room 394 was given a daily IV of nutritional liquids to keep him 'fed' and hydrated. A respirator on the other side of his bed helped him to breath. As of now it seemed there was nothing more to do for the child but to maintain what they had.

Three weeks ago the male child had been found by a homeless man at an underpass to a walking bridge in the local park. His fingers had been broken, along with two ribs, and his right foot. His breathing was erratic, and there were dozens of bruises all over his body; almost as if he had been rolled down a rocky hill several times.

It was thought he was a victim of severe child abuse, and had been left for dead by his torturer(s).

The bruises had healed, and the bones had all been set and healed or were healing. Surgery had saved both hands but the motion of his right hand was still questioned by doctors.

Once a day a doctor simply looked in on the child, referred to the notes in hand, checked his IV, and his breathing, and then left the boy to the nurses. The nurses had come to call him "Little Lamb" and all adored him.

One nurse, his night nurse Jodi Winfield, read to Little Lamb at night, and occasionally sang him songs from her own childhood. Jodi was just 26, had light brown hair that she kept up under her nurses’ cap, and she lived alone with two cats, Salvador and Dali.

It was Jodi that had suggested to Little Lamb's doctor that they give the child's photo to the local newspaper in an effort to identify him. Four days had passed, and there had been nothing at all.

That night Jodi went to look in upon her favourite patient. She spoke softly so as not to startle him, and she told him about her day.

"Met with Charlie Welter again. Handsome bloke but all he does is just talk about his work with earthworms, or Star Wars." Jodi chuckled as she massaged with great care Little Lambs fragile fingers. "I've never seen Star Wars but with the way Charlie goes on about it I think I know all the characters. I like Jane Austen instead. You might like Star Wars since you're a boy... oh! I think there are some paperbacks of Star Wars in the lunch annex. I'll check. You might enjoy that more than Little Women."

Jodi Winfield checked her patient's vitals, then the IV, his respirator, and then checked all over his body to make sure that the bruises were all healing as they should. The one bruise that made her almost cry was on the child's right hip, and it resembled the outline of an adult boot. Jodi was certain Little Lamb had been kicked, and several times in that one spot.

The bruise was a sad looking thing with a reddish center, mottled green and broken blood vessels, and then healing yellow at the edges. The bandages for the broken ribs was taken off earlier that day and Jodi was heartened to see that Little Lambs skin was pink and healthy. His ribs showed though, and his doctor had said earlier that they found signs of long-term malnutrition.

Finally combing her Little Lambs unruly black hair, Jodi sighed, and began to sing. Most everyone on the third floor thought she was ridiculous for singing to her comatose patients but she swore that all of them enjoyed it. Little Lamb especially who smiled despite never waking up.

"Stop that caterwauling," ordered the silken, deep voice behind her.

Jodi turned to face a man who was thin but stood at least a head taller than she. He was a dark man, almost like an anti-hero from her romantic Jane Austen stories. He definitely brooded, and his hair, though neatly tied at his nape, either shone from not being washed, or it was as smooth as baby fine straight hair. Jodi wondered briefly about that but when her brown eyes met the dark fire in the black eyes of the mysterious visitor, her instinct ratcheted up into 'Mummy Mode' and she stood between Little Lamb and the harsh man.

"Who are you?" Jodi demanded.

"No one you care to know. Move aside. I need to look at the boy." Snape used a Compel Charm in his tone of voice to get the Muggle woman to do as he said but inexplicably she did not move. Her body was in a protective stance, and she exuded violence that would be unleashed if he meant any harm to her child.

"He is not yours. Why do you protect him as if he is?" asked Severus with genuine curiosity. He also tempered his tone to show he meant no harm to the child.

"No. Little Lamb's not mine but he IS my patient, and I will make sure he is safe. Now, who are you?" Jodi demanded again.