Categories > Books > Harry Potter > Shadowlands
Chapter 2: At St. Mungo's
I was sitting at my desk in my office, at the department of Magical Law Enforcement, chewing myself through some boring Auror reports on various minor incidents, then, with a sigh, I leaned back in my chair and watched the huge pile of papers in badly disguised disgust. I stood up and poured myself a cup of coffee, the Muggle way, as usual. While I was happy to apply a Preserving Charm on the coffee, just to keep it hot, the few seconds it took me to stand up, pour the coffee, apply some sugar and creamer, then sit back into my chair allowed me at least to have the illusion I was doing something useful. Nothing was happening and this boredom slowly killed me, if that in my current state – the state of being irreversibly dead – was at all possible.
When Rufus Scrimgeour, Minister of Magic, came to see me, and offered my current position, at first I was very skeptical. Firstly, I still hadn’t forgotten the atmosphere of my previous talks with him. Secondly, why would I want to be a Chief Auror here, in the Shadowlands? To my greatest surprise, Scrimgeour talked very politely, as if trying to make it good, and with a certain amount of respect. He said Moody’d refused the position of Chief Auror saying he’d had enough for a lifetime; Tonks and Remus had preferred to accept a teaching position in the Underage Wizards’ School, and that I was his next – and probably best – candidate for the position.
I needed to admit that I respected him as well, he’d given his life for me, for Merlin’s sake, rather than tell Voldemort he’d just seen me, at Bill’s and Fleur’s wedding. And, as everyday life was kind of boring in the Shadowlands, after five minutes of hesitation, we had a deal.
I closed my eyes and took a couple of delighted sips from the hit drink, carefully, so that I wouldn’t burn my insides. Suddenly a paper airplane landed on my desk. I instantly recognized an Interdepartmental memo with Scrimgeour’s private letterhead and his hasty handwriting.
“Mr. Potter,
When you are done with those useless reports of your colleagues, would you mind joining me in my office? There’s something I want to discuss with you, tête-a-tête, off the records, concerning one of the people very close to your heart.
Scrimgeour”
My heart sank into my intestines. For some reason, I immediately had to think about Hermione and I got very nervous. I put the coffee cup on my table, summoned my wand and rushed out of my office. Colin, my assistant, only managed to capture the sight of my back.
It didn’t take me all in all 30 seconds to reach Scrimgeour’s door. I wanted to knock but I heard Scrimgeour’s voice inside asking me to enter and saw the door suddenly open by itself. Shaking my head, I entered the cabinet of the Minister of Magic.
Scrimgeour curtly nodded, acknowledging my presence. He was never a man of words, rather a man of deeds, and this time it was no different.
“Relax, Mr. Potter. It’s not about your wife and not your daughter as well,” he stated as-a-matter-of-factly, seeing my mental state. I exhaled slowly, opening my fists and relaxing my hands. His next words, however, hit me below my waist.
“Mrs. Luna Weasley has been attacked half an hour ago by some thugs, while she was returning to her home with her daughter, Ms. Molly Weasley,” he stated dryly, reading from a piece of parchment in his monotonous voice. Then, he looked up from the parchment, straight into my pale face and enjoyed my embarrassment for a while.
“She’s got no life-threatening injuries, only her left leg is broken in several places. She’s administered Skele-Gro and most probably will leave St. Mungo’s tomorrow morning. Ms. Molly is as healthy as can be. I thought you might be interested, as in the past you seemed to have been … close,” he continued, in a somewhat more human tone.
“Yes, Sir, we used to be good friends. Thank you for letting me know, I really appreciate it,” was all I managed; I felt relieved she wasn’t in danger any more.
“Used to be? Hmmm…” smirked the old fox. “Anyway, you also might be interested, that the three attackers are not in such a good shape…Mrs. Weasley had enclosed them in a sort of crystal orb none of our curse breakers could so far release. Their cautious estimate is that the orb will dissolve by itself in…” he consulted the parchment again “about 300 years from now. Mr. Moody and Mr. Lupin are of the same meaning. Tough girl, this Luna. I saw her fight two Death Eaters alone at that wedding….” He swallowed the second half of the sentence, but very quickly recomposed himself. ”Inherited her talents from Aranrhod, her mother, I should say. Here’s a Portkey, which will take you to St. Mungo’s, you are dismissed for today. Go see your friends, Mr. Potter, as I assume Mr. Ronald Weasley is there as well right now. Better to see them this way, from the Shadowlands, than not see them at all. That’s all, Mr. Potter,” he dismissed me with a gesture and returned to his reading. But, I daresay, the last expression on his face I’d managed to read before the Portkey pulled me into its whirlwind was an honest, friendly smile.
St. Mungo's was just as overcrowded as I had remembered it from my visit there, several years ago. Wizards and witches were standing in a seemingly endless queue at the Admission desk, where a somewhat hysterical Mediwitch was desperately trying to keep up with the pressure. I cast a quick glance at the information board to see which floor I should be going, when I captured a familiar red head in the crowd. Ron Weasley was making his way towards the admission desk, and the crowd split before him. The war ended not so long ago and being one of the heroes who had played a major role in Voldemort's downfall certainly had its good sides. In the days, weeks after the war, Ron quite understandably enjoyed his celebrity status. By now, it had calmed down quite a bit; still, people recognized him, Ginny, Neville, Luna, Hermione and the other students on the streets, asked for their signatures, photographed them or just shook their hands and murmured their personal thanks.
“Good day, I'm Ronald Weasley,” he started introducing himself to the Mediwitch, rather unnecessarily. “Oh Susan, is that you? I haven't seen you for ages!” A huge grin appeared on his freckled face as he hugged Susan Bones.
“Ron, what a surprise! You're here for Luna and Molly Jr, right? They're in 422. Go see them, we'll catch up later,” she smiled and urged him towards the lift. “I have an hour left from my shift, we can grab a coffee and talk about things, if you want to.”
“I'd love to, Susan,” Ron responded hastily. “I'll send Patronus, OK?”
Susan watched as Ron disappeared in the lift, waving at her. Letting out an exasperated sigh, she turned back to the now patiently waiting crowd, who now were watching her with a certain amount of admiration. Wearing a half-smile, she thought to herself, “Well, having a war hero among one's friends IS certainly interesting...”, then turned politely to the next patient in the queue: “How may I help you?”
Shaking my head, I tried to dismiss the sad thoughts, emerging in my mind. Her parents were also murdered during Voldemort's regime, so Susan hadn't had an easy life. Still, she'd always been a brave girl and a loyal friend and was one of the first students to Apparate to Hogsmeade before the Battle. Mentally thanking her, I floated upstairs and reached ward 422 together with Ron. He was visibly very upset about what had happened with his wife and daughter less than an hour ago, so he knocked on the door and entered, not even waiting for an answer. I followed him, eager to see with my own eyes if Luna and Molly Jr. were really out of danger.
Luna was sitting straight on her bed, her left foot magically bandaged, a couple of bruises on her faces. Her eyes swollen, otherwise she seemed alright. She and Ron exchanged warm, gentle kisses as Ron hugged her protectively to himself and comforted her. Shortly afterwards, Molly woke up and expressed her wish to be fed with a loud cry. Luna undid her nightgown, gently placing Molly on her perfectly formed breast, which she took thankfully. I was, yet again, overwhelmed by the intimacy of the scene, and wanted to give them some privacy, but could not take my eyes off her. Finally I managed to turn away and my heart almost stopped beating. Luna - well, her Shadowland-going self - was standing all this time behind me, with the same playful, even mischievous smile on her face she was wearing the last time I saw her.
“Don't be so shy, Harry, these are called 'breasts', they don’t bite,” she teased me as our lips united in a thirsty kiss and she placed my hand on one of those beautiful orbs. I let out a content moan. It felt so good to feel the presence of a woman after a year of being dead. I pressed her fragile body against mine as we explored each other's mouths with our tongues, while I was caressing, gently squeezing her bum. Suddenly, she stopped the kiss, and held me away at arm length, looking deep into my eyes. Then, she turned around and pulled me after her, going straight through the wood of the door. She led me, heading towards a spot, known only to her, and soon we were standing in front of a door bearing the sign “Medical Personnel only.” We entered the rather small, windowless room, where the only furniture was a one-person bed, a desk and a chair. Luna magically locked the door and muttered some charms I couldn’t make out, causing the room expanding in size, and the bed turning into a king-size one. Nodding with a satisfied grin on her face, Luna put her wand on the desk, and with a gracious movement undid the waistband of her nightgown – the same one her real self was wearing. The fabric slid on the floor and there she stood, completely naked and beautiful. I couldn’t take my eyes off her white skin, her perfect breasts and the golden triangle formed by her pubic hair. She was enjoying the effect she’d made on me for a while, then stepped very close to me, undid the buttons on my shirt and rid me of it, unbuttoned my jeans and soon I was standing there in my Adam’s costume.
“And now, Mr. Wizarding Hero,” she whispered in a hoarse voice, “I want to be shagged senseless.”
********
A while later we were just lying on the bed, catching our breath, satisfied, too lazy to move, only enjoying each other’s proximity and warmth. I was toying with her golden hair, gently caressing her soft skin, kissing her earlobe, inhaling her sweet scent.
“Luna, my dearest, are you sure we did the right thing?” I asked after a short, sweet while, breaking the silence. She opened her eyes and turned towards me, caressing my lips with her fingers.
“Oh yes, Harry, I’m pretty sure we did,” she answered simply, and for some reason her dreamy voice didn’t seem so strange this time. On the contrary, there was a certain amount of seriousness in it; still, it was a very warm voice and it was sending pleasant vibrations down my spine.
“Will you – we – remember anything of this?” I went on with my inquisition. She nodded vehemently. “I will, that’s for sure,” she smiled and teasingly licked her lips, “Mr. Harry Potter here is a natural talent…” Here we both flushed red and laughed in unison. “And, I hope, unless I was completely useless in bed, you will remember as well,” she added, kissing me deeply once again. “I will, of course, feel a certain sense of guilt, at least for the time being, but I will get through it. Well, technically speaking, I did cheat on Ron; on the other hand I cheated on him in another life, another dimension…. Brrrr,” she shrugged, “even I get confused sometimes.”
“I’ve got to go, love,” she stopped me half-way as I went down to kiss her pink nipples. “You know I can’t stay too long here. Tomorrow I will be released from St. Mungo’s, but you will see me pretty soon, I promise. I will teach you how to visit the Dreamscape next time. Good bye, my dear Harry,” she kissed me one last time, and she dissolved right between my arms.
Shaking my head, I let out a content sigh. I was, obviously, not less confused now, than an hour ago, but I closed my eyes and imagined the touch of her velvety skin lingering on mine just a little bit longer. Slowly, with a smile on my face, I slid into my dreams.
I was sitting at my desk in my office, at the department of Magical Law Enforcement, chewing myself through some boring Auror reports on various minor incidents, then, with a sigh, I leaned back in my chair and watched the huge pile of papers in badly disguised disgust. I stood up and poured myself a cup of coffee, the Muggle way, as usual. While I was happy to apply a Preserving Charm on the coffee, just to keep it hot, the few seconds it took me to stand up, pour the coffee, apply some sugar and creamer, then sit back into my chair allowed me at least to have the illusion I was doing something useful. Nothing was happening and this boredom slowly killed me, if that in my current state – the state of being irreversibly dead – was at all possible.
When Rufus Scrimgeour, Minister of Magic, came to see me, and offered my current position, at first I was very skeptical. Firstly, I still hadn’t forgotten the atmosphere of my previous talks with him. Secondly, why would I want to be a Chief Auror here, in the Shadowlands? To my greatest surprise, Scrimgeour talked very politely, as if trying to make it good, and with a certain amount of respect. He said Moody’d refused the position of Chief Auror saying he’d had enough for a lifetime; Tonks and Remus had preferred to accept a teaching position in the Underage Wizards’ School, and that I was his next – and probably best – candidate for the position.
I needed to admit that I respected him as well, he’d given his life for me, for Merlin’s sake, rather than tell Voldemort he’d just seen me, at Bill’s and Fleur’s wedding. And, as everyday life was kind of boring in the Shadowlands, after five minutes of hesitation, we had a deal.
I closed my eyes and took a couple of delighted sips from the hit drink, carefully, so that I wouldn’t burn my insides. Suddenly a paper airplane landed on my desk. I instantly recognized an Interdepartmental memo with Scrimgeour’s private letterhead and his hasty handwriting.
“Mr. Potter,
When you are done with those useless reports of your colleagues, would you mind joining me in my office? There’s something I want to discuss with you, tête-a-tête, off the records, concerning one of the people very close to your heart.
Scrimgeour”
My heart sank into my intestines. For some reason, I immediately had to think about Hermione and I got very nervous. I put the coffee cup on my table, summoned my wand and rushed out of my office. Colin, my assistant, only managed to capture the sight of my back.
It didn’t take me all in all 30 seconds to reach Scrimgeour’s door. I wanted to knock but I heard Scrimgeour’s voice inside asking me to enter and saw the door suddenly open by itself. Shaking my head, I entered the cabinet of the Minister of Magic.
Scrimgeour curtly nodded, acknowledging my presence. He was never a man of words, rather a man of deeds, and this time it was no different.
“Relax, Mr. Potter. It’s not about your wife and not your daughter as well,” he stated as-a-matter-of-factly, seeing my mental state. I exhaled slowly, opening my fists and relaxing my hands. His next words, however, hit me below my waist.
“Mrs. Luna Weasley has been attacked half an hour ago by some thugs, while she was returning to her home with her daughter, Ms. Molly Weasley,” he stated dryly, reading from a piece of parchment in his monotonous voice. Then, he looked up from the parchment, straight into my pale face and enjoyed my embarrassment for a while.
“She’s got no life-threatening injuries, only her left leg is broken in several places. She’s administered Skele-Gro and most probably will leave St. Mungo’s tomorrow morning. Ms. Molly is as healthy as can be. I thought you might be interested, as in the past you seemed to have been … close,” he continued, in a somewhat more human tone.
“Yes, Sir, we used to be good friends. Thank you for letting me know, I really appreciate it,” was all I managed; I felt relieved she wasn’t in danger any more.
“Used to be? Hmmm…” smirked the old fox. “Anyway, you also might be interested, that the three attackers are not in such a good shape…Mrs. Weasley had enclosed them in a sort of crystal orb none of our curse breakers could so far release. Their cautious estimate is that the orb will dissolve by itself in…” he consulted the parchment again “about 300 years from now. Mr. Moody and Mr. Lupin are of the same meaning. Tough girl, this Luna. I saw her fight two Death Eaters alone at that wedding….” He swallowed the second half of the sentence, but very quickly recomposed himself. ”Inherited her talents from Aranrhod, her mother, I should say. Here’s a Portkey, which will take you to St. Mungo’s, you are dismissed for today. Go see your friends, Mr. Potter, as I assume Mr. Ronald Weasley is there as well right now. Better to see them this way, from the Shadowlands, than not see them at all. That’s all, Mr. Potter,” he dismissed me with a gesture and returned to his reading. But, I daresay, the last expression on his face I’d managed to read before the Portkey pulled me into its whirlwind was an honest, friendly smile.
St. Mungo's was just as overcrowded as I had remembered it from my visit there, several years ago. Wizards and witches were standing in a seemingly endless queue at the Admission desk, where a somewhat hysterical Mediwitch was desperately trying to keep up with the pressure. I cast a quick glance at the information board to see which floor I should be going, when I captured a familiar red head in the crowd. Ron Weasley was making his way towards the admission desk, and the crowd split before him. The war ended not so long ago and being one of the heroes who had played a major role in Voldemort's downfall certainly had its good sides. In the days, weeks after the war, Ron quite understandably enjoyed his celebrity status. By now, it had calmed down quite a bit; still, people recognized him, Ginny, Neville, Luna, Hermione and the other students on the streets, asked for their signatures, photographed them or just shook their hands and murmured their personal thanks.
“Good day, I'm Ronald Weasley,” he started introducing himself to the Mediwitch, rather unnecessarily. “Oh Susan, is that you? I haven't seen you for ages!” A huge grin appeared on his freckled face as he hugged Susan Bones.
“Ron, what a surprise! You're here for Luna and Molly Jr, right? They're in 422. Go see them, we'll catch up later,” she smiled and urged him towards the lift. “I have an hour left from my shift, we can grab a coffee and talk about things, if you want to.”
“I'd love to, Susan,” Ron responded hastily. “I'll send Patronus, OK?”
Susan watched as Ron disappeared in the lift, waving at her. Letting out an exasperated sigh, she turned back to the now patiently waiting crowd, who now were watching her with a certain amount of admiration. Wearing a half-smile, she thought to herself, “Well, having a war hero among one's friends IS certainly interesting...”, then turned politely to the next patient in the queue: “How may I help you?”
Shaking my head, I tried to dismiss the sad thoughts, emerging in my mind. Her parents were also murdered during Voldemort's regime, so Susan hadn't had an easy life. Still, she'd always been a brave girl and a loyal friend and was one of the first students to Apparate to Hogsmeade before the Battle. Mentally thanking her, I floated upstairs and reached ward 422 together with Ron. He was visibly very upset about what had happened with his wife and daughter less than an hour ago, so he knocked on the door and entered, not even waiting for an answer. I followed him, eager to see with my own eyes if Luna and Molly Jr. were really out of danger.
Luna was sitting straight on her bed, her left foot magically bandaged, a couple of bruises on her faces. Her eyes swollen, otherwise she seemed alright. She and Ron exchanged warm, gentle kisses as Ron hugged her protectively to himself and comforted her. Shortly afterwards, Molly woke up and expressed her wish to be fed with a loud cry. Luna undid her nightgown, gently placing Molly on her perfectly formed breast, which she took thankfully. I was, yet again, overwhelmed by the intimacy of the scene, and wanted to give them some privacy, but could not take my eyes off her. Finally I managed to turn away and my heart almost stopped beating. Luna - well, her Shadowland-going self - was standing all this time behind me, with the same playful, even mischievous smile on her face she was wearing the last time I saw her.
“Don't be so shy, Harry, these are called 'breasts', they don’t bite,” she teased me as our lips united in a thirsty kiss and she placed my hand on one of those beautiful orbs. I let out a content moan. It felt so good to feel the presence of a woman after a year of being dead. I pressed her fragile body against mine as we explored each other's mouths with our tongues, while I was caressing, gently squeezing her bum. Suddenly, she stopped the kiss, and held me away at arm length, looking deep into my eyes. Then, she turned around and pulled me after her, going straight through the wood of the door. She led me, heading towards a spot, known only to her, and soon we were standing in front of a door bearing the sign “Medical Personnel only.” We entered the rather small, windowless room, where the only furniture was a one-person bed, a desk and a chair. Luna magically locked the door and muttered some charms I couldn’t make out, causing the room expanding in size, and the bed turning into a king-size one. Nodding with a satisfied grin on her face, Luna put her wand on the desk, and with a gracious movement undid the waistband of her nightgown – the same one her real self was wearing. The fabric slid on the floor and there she stood, completely naked and beautiful. I couldn’t take my eyes off her white skin, her perfect breasts and the golden triangle formed by her pubic hair. She was enjoying the effect she’d made on me for a while, then stepped very close to me, undid the buttons on my shirt and rid me of it, unbuttoned my jeans and soon I was standing there in my Adam’s costume.
“And now, Mr. Wizarding Hero,” she whispered in a hoarse voice, “I want to be shagged senseless.”
********
A while later we were just lying on the bed, catching our breath, satisfied, too lazy to move, only enjoying each other’s proximity and warmth. I was toying with her golden hair, gently caressing her soft skin, kissing her earlobe, inhaling her sweet scent.
“Luna, my dearest, are you sure we did the right thing?” I asked after a short, sweet while, breaking the silence. She opened her eyes and turned towards me, caressing my lips with her fingers.
“Oh yes, Harry, I’m pretty sure we did,” she answered simply, and for some reason her dreamy voice didn’t seem so strange this time. On the contrary, there was a certain amount of seriousness in it; still, it was a very warm voice and it was sending pleasant vibrations down my spine.
“Will you – we – remember anything of this?” I went on with my inquisition. She nodded vehemently. “I will, that’s for sure,” she smiled and teasingly licked her lips, “Mr. Harry Potter here is a natural talent…” Here we both flushed red and laughed in unison. “And, I hope, unless I was completely useless in bed, you will remember as well,” she added, kissing me deeply once again. “I will, of course, feel a certain sense of guilt, at least for the time being, but I will get through it. Well, technically speaking, I did cheat on Ron; on the other hand I cheated on him in another life, another dimension…. Brrrr,” she shrugged, “even I get confused sometimes.”
“I’ve got to go, love,” she stopped me half-way as I went down to kiss her pink nipples. “You know I can’t stay too long here. Tomorrow I will be released from St. Mungo’s, but you will see me pretty soon, I promise. I will teach you how to visit the Dreamscape next time. Good bye, my dear Harry,” she kissed me one last time, and she dissolved right between my arms.
Shaking my head, I let out a content sigh. I was, obviously, not less confused now, than an hour ago, but I closed my eyes and imagined the touch of her velvety skin lingering on mine just a little bit longer. Slowly, with a smile on my face, I slid into my dreams.
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