66333) Life after Death – separates from canon fully, end of book 2. The summer before Harry's third year, the Dursleys are not so forgiving about what happened with the cake drop. Vernon was punished at work for that, and he's a big believer in paying bad fortune forward. This is the fallout.
A/N I go back and forth on the Dursleys. Book 1 and into book 2, their treatment of him is hyperbole: so exaggerated that it can be construed as nothing but criminal abuse if taken seriously. Later books are more realistic uncaring disdain (though still abusive). So in some fics, I have them as just bad guardians. In two I have written pieces of (but not finished), they're actually good guardians. But this one? Well… nope. This one, they're as bad as Sound of Silence… warning: child abuse and character death ahead. Some "bashing" ish treatment of some characters, but I think I justify it and bring it around. Except for the Dursleys
I'm posting this as a sneak preview. I have this whole thing fleshed out, but it's turning gargantuan. Seriously. I have 150 pages written, and I'm not even close. So, this will be updated, infrequently, but having it out there is a commitment to myself that I will finish it. (fair warning: The last time I started a fic that wasn't complete when I posted the first chapter, it took me something like 12 years to finish it. LOL. But I did finish it. And I will finish this. Just not any time soon.)
Part 1
~~ here we go ~~
Harry Potter started his second year at Hogwarts under a cloud. Before he was accused of being the heir of Slytherin, he acknowledged the doom hanging over him. Harry was afraid to go back to Dursleys. Sure, it wasn't for months, but the reality of what he would face was huge. He needed to plan.
They starved him and Hedwig last summer. One can of soup a day? And if he thought the treatment would get better, well… the Weasleys had ripped those bars out of the wall of the house. Vernon wouldn't be forgiving. At all. And Petunia could hold a grudge forever. Didn't she treat Harry like crap because she still hated his mother? Who had been dead for more than ten years? No. What he had to look forward to would be worse than one can of soup a day.
He needed a way to get food and store it – in a place that wasn't his trunk. A place the Dursley's wouldn't even notice.
Since he learned to repair and size and charm his own clothes, he knew he was fairly good at tailoring charms. He had searched out books on that last year, embarrassed by the ill-fitting, worn, and stained castoffs he was forced to wear. By the end of the year, they were repaired, shrunk to his size, charmed to grow with him, stay stain-resistant and fresh between washings, and kept him warm or cool and dry while he wore them.
He was really, exceptionally good at tailoring charms, and he noted that many bags in the wizarding world had more space than they should. He decided to try his hand at making bottomless bags. Expansion charms and enchantments were used on almost every trunk and bag in the dorm (except the crappy bag and trunk that Harry, himself, had). He started with some old socks, working to get them to hold, organize, allow him to retrieve objects, undamaged. Then, he asked some older students, who he saw with drawstring bags from Hogsmeade, if he could buy them. A few knuts later, he had real bags to practice on.
In the end, he decided to make two bags: one he would take to the great hall at mealtime and filch what he could that would be good for him to eat. Fruit and sandwiches would disappear into his little bag whenever they were offered. (He had to get some food-grade parchment for them, but as the twins always had parties, he was able to nab quite a number of wrappers during cleanup.) His second bag he kept in his trunk. It was almost identical to the first but it also had stasis charms on it, so the food inside would stay fresh.
When he finished the massive expansion charms, stasis charms, and other logical upgrades, the bags fairly glowed with his magic. He figured he probably shouldn't open one inside the other – who knew if expansion charms played well together? But he had his system to keep his most precious possessions, few though they were, and a large amount of food safe from the Dursleys. He could keep the main storage bag in his pocket. He didn't think the Dursleys would notice as he had kept just one set of clothes DudleyHuge, just in case.
When he got out of the hospital wing after the basilisk bite, he was feeling anxious. Dumbledore had, again, refused to let him stay at Hogwarts for the summer break. He'd asked at the end of last year. He'd asked at Yule this year. And he'd asked again now. Dumbledore twinkled and smiled and pooh-poohed and talked about the importance of family time.
Harry had never wanted to pop a teacher in the nose as much as he'd wanted to sock the old coot who shushed away Harry's protests but kept Harry in the hospital wing.
As a result, Harry hadn't had time in the last weeks to get much food. His accounting said he had enough sandwiches for eight weeks, if he was very careful. Maybe he could get more at the station? Maybe he could spend time somewhere besides prison that summer, too? But when he went to reach into his stasis bag, he noticed that it was not nearly as full as it should have been.
"Gonna have a sandwich mate? Toss me one, will ya? I tell ya, that bag of yours has been great. You should get me one! I don't remember you buying it on the alley? Where'd it come from then?" Ron asked and Harry felt panicked and ill.
Ron couldn't have eaten all of his summer stash, could he?
Harry didn't say a word as he counted ten sandwiches and fifteen pieces of fruit in his bag.
Ron had eaten dozens of sandwiches and pieces of fruit.
Harry wanted to cry. What would he do? He took a shaky breath, knowing if he spoke, he'd scream.
"You okay, mate?" Ron asked, completely oblivious to the fact that Harry was devastated.
"Fine." Harry managed to growl it out, not looking at Ron, afraid his magic might lash out. He was so angry, frustrated, scared that it hurt. But he had to try.
Harry was not a quitter.
By the time the train had left the next day, Harry had managed – through judicious use of his cloak - to get another half-dozen or so sandwiches and some more fruit. It would be enough for a few weeks, he hoped.
When he asked Hedwig to stay with Hagrid and only visit if he called, his owl nipped at him sadly. She, too, was aware of what might happen at the prison her boy stayed in. She couldn't help him if she were dead. She bobbed her head.
He got off the train in the mid-June sunshine, but the shadows covered his mind as he dragged his trunk to the Dursley vehicle. Harry accepted the commands, the disdain, the cold shoulder with silence. He saw the replaced bars on his window with a sick feeling, and later watched from that barred window as they tossed his trunk in the rubbish. True, he had everything that mattered in his bottomless bag, but it was going to be a hard summer. He just hoped they still gave him the soup.
He hoped in vain.
Over the first weeks of the "holiday", Harry rationed himself to one sandwich and piece of fruit a day. He drank liberally from an everfilling bottle he'd bought from an older Gryffindor. But by the fourth week, the sandwiches were still gone. A person who had a normal amount of body fat would probably be able to live for a few weeks with water, but Harry had already been low on reserves. He was a growing child with almost no body-fat who was still fighting off a terrible wound from the fight with the snake. He had nothing left.
He had mostly stopped getting hunger pains a week after his last meal. He lay, listless, on the dirty cot, wishing it would be over already. He could practically feel himself dying, cell by cell. It didn't hurt, but he was so very tired, and he could smell the food every time Dudley ate in the room next to his – which the evil child did, with glee, daily.
He just wished he knew what he'd done to deserve this life.
Though Harry felt completely alone in his suffering, he wasn't. His familiar, the beautiful Hedwig, could feel her bond with Harry straining. She could feel him dying. And she had to do something. Tracking down the crazy elf who'd caused her bondling such problems the prior summer, she pecked at the creature until it realized.
"Harry Potter needs Dobby's help?" Dobby exclaimed, and Hedwig stopped her furious pecking and attacks. She hooted and bobbed and hoped that it would be enough to save her boy, who was losing strength by the moment.
Dobby popped back to Harry's room. "Oh, Mister Harry Potter Sir. You so hungry. Dobby bring food?"
Harry struggled to turn his head to the elf. He wouldn't die alone. He smiled. "Take my stuff. Put it in Gringotts." He tried to speak, but with no energy, there wasn't much but a whisper.
"Mister Harry Potter needs to tell Dobby that he can go back on his promise. Let Dobby save Mister Harry Potter's life!"
"Too late."
"No! Mister Harry Potter must release Dobby from promise!"
"BOY! What is that noise?!" The locks started to turn, but Dobby snapped at the door, and the noises stopped.
"Fine. I release you."
Dobby smiled maniacally. He grabbed the wizard's hand, felt to make sure all of Mister Harry Potter's things were in his magic bag (and wasn't Mister Harry Potter the smartest wizard to be making magic bags?) and popped Harry to a magical health clinic he'd heard bad master tried to shut down.
Normally, the wards around Number 4 would have blocked the involuntary egress of the boy wizard. But he was truly dying, and the wards were falling.
~~ scene ~~
When Dan Zhou looked on the skeletal boy popped in by the elf, he didn't pause. He didn't wonder. He just worked. Moving to a treatment room, fast, he shouted as he engaged the privacy spell.
"I need nutrient potions. Organ boosters. I.V. fluids. Let's go!"
He started with a diagnostic, and had he been in anything but healing mode, what he read would have made him weep. But he simply diagnosed, recorded, and began to formulate a plan for recovery.
The boy's magic was at the beginning of a cascade failure. Keeping calm and determined, the healer started the spell to bolster the child's core when his patient went into cardiac arrest.
Healer Zhou had experience on both sides of the mirror. Where a magical would give up on the event of a stopped heart, Daniel began CPR. He was able to resuscitate the child.
"Abby! I need help. Get the focus crystals, stat!"
He began a quick and dirty ritual. The child's magic was unstable because there were draws on it. The ritual would cut all foreign ties to the child, giving him a chance to stabilize and use his own power to bolster his life force.
As the ritual concluded, the foreign ties on Harry snapped. The wards at Privet Drive fell completely; the trinkets on Dumbledore's shelf stopped. Lily's magic fell fully back into her son, the protection weaving its way into his core and taking on his magical signature. Between that force and the basilisk venom in Harry's blood, the soul of the horcrux in his scar was ejected. The magic in the horcrux was captured by Harry's magic, purified, claimed, and conscripted to aid in saving Harry's life. If Harry lived, his magic would be extremely robust, and a few talents he'd not had from birth became his endemically.
After a few more scares, Healer Zhou was able to get enough nutrient potions, fluids, and calories into the child to stabilize him. It was only then that Dan knew who he was working on.
"I call for a level 3 silence vow." The privacy shield thickened, becoming completely opaque (where the basic privacy spell merely blurred sight and muffled sound).
"Healer Zhou?" Abby Butz paged Dr. Zhou through their communication system. She had worked with Dan for almost eighteen months; she was just reaching journeyman healer status and knew to trust her mentor. He was a master healer on the magical side and a fully qualified GP on the non-magical side. And he was smart as a whip. She was concerned more for the patient than her mentor as she watched the barrier practically solidify in place.
Dan looked at his patient again, re-running the diagnostic spells. He now had full records of the status of the patient on intake and the treatments he had been forced to give as well as a recording of the entire afternoon into evening that he'd been working to stabilize the child. Making a copy of all of these records and sealing one in the clinic's docusafe, he called his elf to put the other in his muggle safe-deposit box.
If the wrong people got wind of what was going on here, he would need those records to defend himself and the boy. And if the wrong people got wind of what was going on here, he'd no doubt the official records would "disappear". The perfidy of the wizarding world was why Dr. Zhou kept all of his credentials up-to-date on both sides: he never knew when he'd need to flee.
He called Abby back into the healing room, allowing her magical signature through the seal.
"Thanks for your help, Abby. Could you have Wiggle get us coffee and supper, and could you stay with the patient for a bit? I have a floo call or two to make."
Abby, a muggleborn, was still a bit confused. Why did this child upset Master Healer Zhou so much? As she paced through the privacy ward into the treatment room, she was infuriated on the kid's behalf; he had been starved to death! But, that in itself would not call for the secrecy measures that Dr. Zhou had followed. Shaking her head, she checked the vitals on the child and made sure all of the treatments were well in place. She pushed the hair away from his forehead in a gesture of comfort and froze, the truth of the matter suddenly glaringly obvious.
~~ scene ~~
Dan Zhou thumbed through his contacts. Child Protective Services and Wizarding Child Services… he needed both. Mr. Potter, from what he'd read, lived on the muggle side. There had been quite an outrage when he'd reappeared and his state – in bedraggled muggle clothes with obvious total ignorance to the magical world – had been revealed. But the kid had done his "job": quiddich star at 11, saving the school from a mad professor at that same age… and his clothes had become more acceptable just as his performance in school, though not stellar, had been acceptable.
Dan had read all of the reports just as everyone else had; it had been prime speculation for months. You couldn't avoid it, even if you knew it was rather rude to speculate on a child as everyone did. It was as though the magical world believed Harry Potter belonged to them. That no one had ever reported on the obvious abuse and malnutrition was baffling. Why would Poppy Pomphrey ignore the signs? She wasn't a healer, true, but she was a mediwich specializing in pediatrics. She should have known, especially given that the child had been under her care at least once from the diagnostics. (Why she had regrown bones at low density, he'd never know. But he planned on turning her in for it.)
For now, though, he needed allies: people with enough clout to do something and enough sense to do it quietly. First, he needed child protective services to track down the muggle-side guardians. It wouldn't be easy, but student records were computerized. Wiggle, one of the clinic's elves, popped in with tea and sandwiches. Dan took a sip as he decided who he'd call on. He had a muggle-born friend in that department, and she'd be able to get any rumors of the area Mr. Potter had lived in, track down computerized records of any primary schools that had a Harry Potter with the right birthday, and use those records to track the guardians. That needed to be done first. Those guardians needed to be questioned. Had they mistreated the boy on orders? Or were they self-starting sadists?
He had to breathe deeply to swallow his anger. Placing the phone call to his friend, Amanda Hook, at her office. He told the answering service that it was an emergency, gave his contact information, and asked if she would contact him as soon as she got the message.
Next, he contacted Asa Steppenage. Asa was Dr. Zhou's most powerful contact in wizarding child services. The man was 100 if he was a day, and he was as ornery as a badger in a trap. But the man stood for any child in his purview. He would see what was done to this child and he would see that any current rights and responsibilities in the wizarding world were transferred or negated.
It would be interesting to see Steppenage go up against Dumbledore, whom Dr. Zhou believed orchestrated Mr. Potter's circumstances. But if anyone in the department could hold off the HeadChiefSupreme Powermonger, Zhou believed it would be Steppenage.
He hoped it would be Steppenage.
He floo-called the man himself, asking for a moment.
"Good evening, Dr. Zhou! What can this old wizard do for you?"
"I need a consultation, sir. It is extremely urgent." Dan's face gave away nothing; his voice was calm, quiet, and respectful. But Asa Steppenage knew the younger wizard well enough to know that if he were flooing at dusk in the summertime from his office, there was a matter of some urgency. As he was calling a WCS representative, there was an injured child involved.
Dammit.
The old wizard nodded solemnly. "I was just about to take my evening perambulation after my meal. Important to keep the body in shape to maintain the magic, you know. Key to longevity. I can wander my way to an apparition point near you. Clinic at the same location as it was two annum ago?"
"Yes, sir."
The older wizard nodded. "I shall be with you in the shake of a crup's tail." He ended the floo call abruptly, and Daniel sat back, relaxing for the first time in hours. He closed his eyes, concentrating on his breathing, meditating and clearing his mind. Standing, he did some stretches and some katas, finding his center, pushing out the negative energy.
When he was ready to face the world again, he went out to the general area, briefed the healer and assistant coming on duty, and went outside to wait for the centenarian. The clinic was open all hours, and the second shift had taken over sometime when Dan had been working to save the kid's life. Healer Lipscomb looked askance at the sealed patient room: there was something there that could endanger the ongoing work of the clinic. She just knew it. But they all took their healers' oaths very seriously: no matter if it were a criminal or a runaway pureblood princess, the team at HC (the Healer's Clinic) would do their very best to heal, no matter the consequences.
So far, they'd been lucky to avoid the heavy hand of the pureblood class of Britain, and that was mostly due to the talent, money, and connections of the founder of the place, Healer Antonius Ogden, of the Ogdens, and his self-chosen replacement, Dr. Daniel Zhou, who had sealed that patient room and had just walked outside with a very worried look on his face.
Dan's deepest wish at that moment was that his patient would make it as long as Steppenage had, and in as good health. He cared about his clinic, yes, but the patients always came first. Zhou's cell phone rang as he saw the elder WCS rep strolling in his general direction.
Throwing up a privacy spell, Zhou answered quickly. "Amanda, thanks for getting back to me. Could you possibly meet with me tonight, or early tomorrow? I have a bit of an emergency… Believe me, you will want to get the ball rolling, as it were, on this as soon as possible… Thank you, thank you so much. I shall meet you at the Phoenix in two hours? I'll buy you a cuppa and whatever takes your fancy? … indeed. I must go. Thank you."
He ended the call and held out his hand to Asa Steppenage. "Sir, thank you for coming."
"You've quite piqued my interest, Healer Zhou. Shall we?"
Dan brought Steppenage into the main body of the clinic, ignoring the curious glances from the evening staff. "You've gone round the clock, then? As you planned?" Asa asked.
Dan nodded. "Yes, half-bloods, 'creature' born, and muggleborn have injuries at all times of day and Mungo's will never treat any of the lesser. It's a half-blood I've brought you here about."
"Damn, another dark wizard trying to erase their 'mistake.'" Steppenage had disgust in his voice, and if he were a lesser wizard, one would hear exhaustion in it, too. He was so very tired of dealing with the actions of the dregs of his society – when those dregs somehow believed themselves to be the crème de la crème. That Dr. Zhou neither confirmed nor denied his statement was understandable. Asa could see the full privacy ward and knew from the way the floo connected that there was a privacy code attached here.
This was no simple case of a birth where a pureblood wished there hadn't been a birth.
Dan asked for permission then added Asa's magical signature to the seal. The two men stepped through the barrier and Steppenage's breath caught.
Asa had been good friends with Fleamont Potter, from youth, and this boy was the spitting, if emaciated, image of the man.
This was the Boy Who Lived, and from the look of it, he had got another miracle.
But why had he needed it?
"Merlin's pants, Zhou, what in Odin's name happened to this child?"
"Starvation. Periodic, from what I can tell, but this latest bout was complete. Whoever had him starved and routinely beat him. He has bed sores; he's obviously not been moved in days if not weeks. There are so many old injuries that have not been healed properly, it is absolutely vile. This is child abuse on the highest level of the scale, and I need your permission to actually treat him."
Steppenage nodded. "I will push through sealed, emergency access. His magical guardianship will be vacated, immediately, with cause, while an investigation is performed. You can do what you need to heal him, fully. We will be able to access his vaults to pay the clinic in full when the investigation is finished. Do you need an advance?"
"No, my family left me well off, as you know, and I have no children yet. I will pay, and he can pay me back, in time, if he wishes."
Steppenage approached the boy, documenting the stunted growth, the gaunt appearance, the sallow skin. He swallowed his rage, his appearance giving nothing away of his fury. He was a consummate professional, until you looked into his eyes.
"Give me a copy of the official diagnostics," As Zhou handed over the parchment, longer than usual, Steppenage once again swallowed bile. "I have the documentation I need. The order is set by my word, but I'll seal it back at the office. Do you need me to reach out to the muggles?"
Daniel shook his head as he started planning the long-term healing in his head. He pulled a blood draw to see if there were concerns with allergies to potions and engaged a secondary in-depth diagnostic tuned to find the best route to health for the boy.
After the spell was running – and it could finish on its own – Dan turned to Asa. "I have a friend on that side. Amanda Hook is a representative of Child Protective Services. She specializes in finding and helping muggleborn who are abused by scared muggle parents or guardians. I seem to recall some rumors of the boy living in the Surrey area. She should be able to track him through school records."
"Hook, Hook… related to Elias?" Steppenage asked.
Dan nodded briefly. "Daughter."
"He was so near a squib that his parents schooled him in the muggle world. Heard he married a muggle. His parents lost contact during the You Know Who conflict. They assumed death eaters found him."
"Well, they didn't. She's also not a squib. She's a witch. But her parents moved to Norway for a few years to avoid Britain's magical net. Since she didn't attend Hogwarts, she can't really – and doesn't really want to – live on our side. But she and her partner – a muggle born - bring their kids here for treatment."
"I'd like to meet her. This will go smoother if we can coordinate the two sides, lad," Steppenage reassured, as Dan looked doubtful. Amanda's father had filled her with bitter feelings about British magical society – justified in Dan's mind.
"I shall ask. I can promise nothing."
Steppenage nodded. "I shall need to do some deep and quiet digging to find out who should have had custody of the child. I can't imagine that James Potter left the care of his son to Dumbledore. That man has too many quaffles in the air. Well. That is my duty. I shall see it done – and if that charlatan tries to interfere, I'll bury him in paperwork. Shouldn't be too hard."
The elder wizard gathered his recording crystal and surveyed the child again. Shaking his head, his heart sorrowful, Steppenage looked at Dan. "Are you going to turn in the mediwitch at Hogwarts for dereliction of duty?"
Dr. Zhou nodded briefly. He could not think of the malpractice of others. Better to simply plot what he would do to help his charge.
Steppenage wanted to sigh. In the past, Poppy Pomphrey had been a staunch supporter of children's rights and quick to spot and report neglect. How had this child, of all children, been ignored? "You know how to reach me. Keep me updated, Healer Zhou. I shall do likewise."
"Yes, sir."
Steppenage took his leave, and Zhou thought for a minute, trying to prioritize the "must do" list. "House Elf that brought Harry Potter in, can you come?"
After a quick pop, which told the healer the elf had been close by (if not in the room), the little creature looked at the healer with grateful eyes. "Dobby come. Yous needs Dobby?"
Dan sighed. "Dobby, thank you so much for bringing Mr. Potter here. You saved his life, certainly."
"Master Harry Potter best wizard and best master."
Dan's eyebrows raised, "You're his bonded elf?"
Dobby looked down at his own feet, abashed. "Hes not knows. Hes thinks Dobby bes free as that was what Dobby wanted: to be free of old, bad master." The elf fought the urge to hurt himself for speaking poorly of the Malfoys. Master Harry Potter, sir, had told him not to hurt himself and that was an order as far as Dobby was concerned.
"He helped free you?"
Dobby nodded frantically. "Just to helps Dobby. Not to owns Dobby. Master Harry Potter, sir, is best wizard and best boy."
"Would you be willing to stay and help with his healing now?"
The little elf almost started jumping with all of the happiness his heart held. To be able to help Master Harry Potter, sir, was all the elf wanted.
Dan put together the needs for the next few hours and an order for the next few weeks. He planned on doing the mid-strength de-aging potion. He'd take Mr. Potter back to early toddler years – perhaps two – and begin working on his physical needs there. His body would grow back with proper nutrition and that should, over two- or three-weeks aging time with appropriate potions and care, alleviating most of the issues.
The results of the blood draw were another astonishment to the healer. Basilisk venom, by the ancient Zhongli's stones, and phoenix tears. This was beyond even Zhou's pay grade.
But it was a great learning lesson.
He put in a call to pull Crispin Fezziwig – the clinic's potions master – to warn him of an important meeting the next morning. The potioneer was always in, doing whatever those mad-scientist types do, but he didn't often interact with the medical staff, aside from filling requests. These requests were going to be very strange and would need serious planning. But in the meanwhile… "Abby, could you come back in?"
Abby had eaten her sandwiches, done some cleanup in the clinic and some of the ever-present paper- and parchment work, and she'd avoided the questioning gazes of the other clinic workers. They'd never discuss a case that had a level 3, but curiosity was inherent in human nature, especially a healer's nature.
Abby went back into the sealed room with mixed feelings. She was relieved to get away from the silent, questioning stares. She was anxious to help the Boy Who Lived in any way she could. And she was absolutely, deep-in-the-gut furious that the boy in question was abused and no one did a thing.
Well, her mentor would.
"Sir," she replied quietly.
"Take a look at this blood reading. What do you see?"
So, it was a test of sorts. She read through the arithmancy and the qualitative analysis readings. Her brow furrowed. "Some sort of venom… but that..." She closed her eyes, shook her head. "It has a half-life longer than the diagnostic can read with a toxicity that is off the charts. Class -1: death on exposure. And yet…" she looked at the child, alive, no matter how close to death he had been earlier.
"Keep looking," Zhou instructed.
Abby looked back down at the analysis. "Not antivenom… not panacea… is this," she'd seen it before, once, in a book. Her mind raced to put it together. "Phoenix tears! To counteract whatever the venom is."
Dan nodded. "I've seen the analysis of the venom and antidote once before – well, it was a recording of one very mad researcher. He wanted to test if phoenix tears really did counteract basilisk venom. They do, but only if administered intravenously." Zhou pointed out the very obvious scar in the child's arm – a scar that would be left by a massive fang, if the child was bitten by a huge snake. The pattern of healing skin around the scar gave evidence to extremely rapid healing but not by a medical, as the scar tissue was not ameliorated. Abby blanched further.
"This child was bitten by a snake – a basilisk – big enough to have a fang of that diameter, had a phoenix cry in the wound?"
"As recently as a few weeks ago, yes,"
"Somehow, those Adventures of the Boy Who Lived never really give voice to the idea that the kid suffers to be the hero." She ran her hand through the kid's hair again. "So, all the potions are going to have to have venom in them, and tears too. The tears are easy but the venom? There's only a tiny limited supply ever allowed on the market. Are we going black market?"
"I have an idea on that. I want to talk to Fezziwig when he gets here, though. Meanwhile, I want you to write up a summary of this analysis, the patient's diagnostic, and the treatment plan that you would put in place, if you could." Abby nodded and, sitting next to the child, began her work.
Dan went out into the main foyer of the clinic and addressed the shift workers there, as the waiting room was empty and the only other current patients were in sealed treatment rooms.
"Can I have all your attention?" Dan asked quietly.
"Sure thing, boss," Henry Lipscomb – the night healer said, looking at the mediwizard – Cartwright - who helped cover the lighter shift and getting a nod.
"As you can see, I have a level 3 silence vow on my patient's room. The patient is at a very tenuous juncture in both his life and his treatment. We cannot afford for an iota of information to leak out – not even that we have such a patient here now. I'm going to need you both to take a vow to keep it secret."