“It seems that we don’t have any medical records for you, Harry,” the same voice from before said. “What school do you go to? Maybe we’ll be able to find something on file there.”
Harry’s head was throbbing painfully and he was acutely aware that he was not dreaming. He tried desperately to focus on the nurse’s face, but the world was reduced to a blur of color.
She seemed to read his mind. “Dear, I’m sorry, but your glasses were in such a state. We’ll find you a new pair as soon as you are up and around. Now, your school, dear...”
Harry knew he was in a Muggle hospital and any mention of Hogwarts was not going to be taken seriously. “St. Brutus’,” he croaked. He thought he saw the nurse jump back slightly.
“Um, well then. Right. That’ll be…useful,” she stuttered.
Harry didn’t care if the nurse thought he was an incurable violent raving lunatic or not. He just wanted to figure out what had happened and then get back to Hogwarts or the Burrow. He was lying flat on his back and couldn’t see the rest of his body. He tried to move his right arm and was greeted by a sharp pain that emptied the breath from his lungs.
The nurse tutted at him, “No, no, no, now it’s a little soon to be doing any of that!” She moved over him and began to fidget with something along the side of the bed. “You have a shattered arm and some broken ribs. You also have a concussion…”
The top of the bed began to rise slowly and Harry felt like he was part of some involuntary science experiment. Through blurred vision, he surveyed the damage for the first time. His entire right arm was wrapped in gauze bandages and attached securely to a board that held his arm in place and there was a large padded bandage planted around his middle and right side. There was some weird pole on wheels with a fat bag of clear fluid attached to it which fed directly into his left arm. But as far as he could tell, his legs were fine and he still had all of his extremities. He wiggled his toes and exhaled slowly in relief.
“There was some internal bleeding dear, but it’s all been taken care of…nothing to worry about as long as you stay put. No running any marathons for you,” she laughed softly at her own joke.
Harry didn’t find the situation remotely amusing. “The car accident…” he cleared his throat, his voice was very hoarse, “my aunt and uncle…”
The nurse suddenly stopped as she bent over him, coming slightly into focus. There was a very concerned look on her face and she spoke very softly, “I’m so sorry, dear, your cousin didn’t survive, but there was no pain.” She placed a hand on his leg and patted in what Harry thought was supposed to be a comforting way and continued, “Your uncle is in such a state right now otherwise I’m sure he would want to be the one to tell you…your aunt passed about an hour ago. I’m so sorry.”
Harry felt like the world had suddenly stopped. Aunt Petunia and Dudley dead? He sat very still on the bed and stared straight ahead, shock and disbelief painted on his face. He was barely aware of the nurse moving around him and calling, “Janice, page the chaplain to room 7, Udell Uden ward…”
He never would have guessed that after all these years of living with them, enduring their abuse and begrudging attitudes, that they would suddenly just simply be gone. Harry always assumed that Aunt Petunia would be there, gnashing her teeth at him and Dudley would continue to antagonize him relentlessly and use him as his personal punching bag. After all these years of wishing vehemently for them to be out of his life, now they finally were and somehow it was difficult to hate them. He never guessed that he’d feel so…hollow. Was it Guilt? Sadness? Relief? A deep shame at wishing them gone began to spread through him.
Harry swallowed and said, “I’d like to see my uncle.”
Harry didn’t try to suppress his alarm when he was wheeled slowly into his uncle’s private hospital room. Uncle Vernon was lying in bed surrounded by a number of pillows, and his legs – which both looked to be broken – were propped up by an elaborate assemblage of pulleys and pads. A large bandage was covering the side of his face and there was a large neck brace that was barely visible under the thick folds of skin that was his neck. Vernon’s grey hair hung limp around his pale fleshy face and he was staring vacantly at the ceiling. This was not the Uncle Vernon that he knew. Harry felt a pang of sadness, or was it pity? Nobody, even Uncle Vernon, should have to go through losing their family, Harry thought.
The nurse leaned down engaged the breaks on his wheelchair and whispered, “Dear, don’t worry if your uncle seems a bit off, it’s just the pain killers and the grief.”
Harry nodded and the nurse left.
“Uncle Vernon?” Harry said quietly as he leaned closer, squinting and trying to bring his uncle’s face into focus.
Vernon remained very still, only his eyes moved slowly until they came to rest on Harry.
“I’m sor–”
“YOU!” Vernon’s eyes rolled wildly and his arm swung desperately through the air.
Harry sat back as quickly as his body would allow and winced with the effort. This is sedated?!
“YOU did this!”
Harry began to search frantically for the nurse’s call button. This was not a good idea, drugs or no drugs. Why did he think that things would be different?
“First it was those Dementroid thingys and now this! They said you’d kill us and now look what you’ve done…”
Harry froze.
“They said that they could free us…if we removed those disgusting spells they would get rid of you…but look! You’re still here! Get away from me, BOY! GET AWAY!” Uncle Vernon began to scream and thrash wildly in his bed. The pulleys that supported his legs began to creak and groan threateningly. “HE’S GOING TO KILL ME! KILLER! KILLER!” Uncle Vernon was shrieking and frothing at the mouth like a beet-red rabid hippopotamus as he grabbed desperately for Harry who was gripping the arm of his wheelchair, eyes wide.
What was he talking about?! Who are ‘they’?
The supports that held Uncle Vernon legs came crashing down and Vernon’s legs fell heavily onto the bed. He bellowed in agony as his eyes rolled back in his head, “AHHHHHHH! YOU DISGUSTING LITTLE…THIS IS ALL YOUR FAULT!!!!”
Harry began to feel light-headed and the room was wavering in front of him as Uncle Vernon’s panicked screams bounced through his head. He felt himself being whisked out of the room and down the hall as a number of figures in white rushed into Uncle Vernon’s room. Harry retched; he was going to be sick.
***
Two figures sat side-by-side at a small round table in a crowded coffee shop with two large mugs of black coffee in front of them. The man had a lean and unlined face and was very tall – his long limbs were stuffed uncomfortably into the small chair. The woman had an ageless quality about her even though she had thick blue-grey hair and opaque grey eyes.
The man sat back and slowly scanned the room without moving his head. He bent forward toward the woman on the pretense of scratching his leg under the table. “We’re clear,” he muttered behind his hand.
The woman casually pulled out a newspaper, whispered, “Silens Incantare,” and tapped a small picture on page in front of her with the tip of her wand which was poking out of her sleeve inconspicuously. The picture moved to reveal a dark figure. She knew that communicating like this was always risky, but under the circumstances it was very necessary. Besides, if a Muggle saw them, it would appear that she was simply moving her lips while reading the daily newspaper.
“We found him,” her lips moved noiselessly.
“Where?”
“A Muggle hospital.”
“Alive?”
“Confirmed,” she mouthed.
“And the wards?”
“They’re no longer a problem.”
“Excellent. Proceed as planned.”
The woman brought her hand concealing her wand to the picture and stopped when the voice said coolly, “Only I want him to be awake when you do it. I want him to feel it – to fear it.” The voice laughed coldly.
The woman calmly closed the newspaper and nodded to the man. They pushed back out of their chairs and abruptly left the shop. Their coffee mugs sat steaming and untouched on the table.
***
A/N: Another thank you to Dianne and Allie for their beta work! FYI: Udell Uden literally means: Grove of trees and dweller in the yew valley. Fitting, I think, for the name of Harry’s hospital ward. *wink*