The Marauders: Year Six #Wattys2017

Lean On Me

Lean On Me

"Fumigation charm to the anterior and lateral basal segments. Quickly. And for the love of Merlin - can we please get a mediwizard trained in emergency scale removal up here? Now?!" The voice was a rushed, nervous sounding wizard's, anxious but firmly in command. "Mr. Potter? Mr. Potter, if you can hear me, you'll feel a bit of a nasty shock in your left side in just a mo'... Going to be all right. All right, now, y'hear? ...Basil, oxygen to the patient, please..."

Charlus felt a hand slide beneath his neck, lift up his head torso and the promised shock to his left side had him crying out.

"DORAAA... DORA WHERE ARE YOU?" he scrambled, trying to find his wife's hand.

"No, Mr. Potter, no, you must - stay - still! You must stay still." This was a sweeter voice. "My name's Basil, I'm the healer assigned to help you today." There was a squeeze to his hand - the palm too small to be Dora's, but comforting just the same. "Your wife is waiting in the corridor, we couldn't let her in. Sterile room. We'll be done quick as a wink, Mr. Potter."

"Basil, my wife... I need my wife."

"She's waiting for you, Mr. Potter," Basil replied.

The commanding wizard's voice shouted, "Scales on the left forearm are multiplying rapidly..."

"I'm on it," came another voice and then the scraping on his arm and Charlus felt the ability to fight against them leave him as somebody put him in a body bind curse and began scraping scales from his arms...

"DORA!" At least Dora was what Charlus had meant to yell. Instead of his wife's name, though, what came from his mouth was fire. Raging white-hot fire that sizzled and singed the air, making the mediwizards and witches jump back, shouting.

"GET INTO YOUR FIREPROOF GEAR... NOW! Aguamenti!!"

"It's all right, Mr. Potter... It's all right... we're taking care of you..." Basil again, grabbing his hand, but this time her hand was wrapped in funny feeling gloves.

"DORA!!!" More fire.

"Somebody please - a stunner."

"I'm sorry, Mr. Potter. Stupefy."

James ran through St. Mungo's, not even pausing for the witch at the reception desk, who stood up, trying to stop him from going past. "Sorry, love, we're in a bit of a rush, you understand, don't you darling?" Sirius called over his shoulder as he hurried after James, blowing the confused-looking receptionist a kiss as he ran backwards after James. He tripped into an extra bed that had been rolled out into the corridor, cursed, and turned to face forward again, rushing to keep up with James.

Come quickly. Mum.

That's all the owl said.

Come quickly.

James was coming as quickly as he could.

He sprinted up the stairs - his trainers squeaking on the tile, gripping the rail, blind from tears and dizziness that spun his head 'round and 'round. He found himself thinking of those painted ponies - spinning, spinning - that was him right now, he was spinning, just like them. Around and around. And it wouldn't stop. It couldn't stop. He fell over one of the steps, landing on his knees halfway up a flight.

Strong hands scooped under his armpits and brought him to his feet. "Up you go, Prongs." Sirius's voice sounded far away and close all at once. "Give me your arm, Prongs, I've got you. Nearly there."