George looked around the table.

'Still alive...' he said slowly. 'But that makes it sound...'

He did not need to finish the sentence. It sounded to Harry too as though Mr Weasley was hovering somewhere between life and death. Still exceptionally pale, Ron stared at the back of his mother’s letter as though it might speak words of comfort to him. Fred pulled the parchment out of George’s hands and read it for himself, then looked up at Harry, who felt his hand shaking on his butterbeer bottle again and clenched it more tightly to stop the trembling.

If Harry had ever sat through a longer night than this one he could not remember it. Sirius and Remus suggested once that they all go to bed, but without any real conviction, and the Weasleys’ looks of disgust were answer enough. They mostly sat in silence around the table, watching the candle wick sinking lower and lower into liquid wax, now and then raising bottles to their lips, speaking only to check the time, to wonder aloud what was happening, and to reassure one another that if there was bad news, they would know straightaway, for Mrs Weasley must long since have arrived at St. Mungo’s.

Fred fell into a doze, his head sagging sideways onto his shoulder. Canini was sitting next to Remus, with her head on the table and Remus gently rubbing her head. Ginny was curled like a cat on her chair, but her eyes were open; Harry could see them reflecting the firelight. Ron was sitting with his head in his hands, whether awake or asleep it was impossible to tell. Theodore was sitting so still in his chair he could have been made of stone. And Harry and Sirius looked at each other every so often, waiting...waiting...

And then, at ten past five in the morning by Ron’s watch, the kitchen door swung open and Mrs Weasley entered the kitchen. She was extremely pale, but when they all turned to look at her, Fred, Ron, and Harry half-rising from their chairs, she gave a wan smile.

'He’s going to be all right,' she said, her voice weak with tiredness. 'He’s sleeping. We can all go and see him later. Bill’s sitting with him now, he’s going to take the morning off work.'

Fred fell back into his chair with his hands over his face. George and Ginny got up, walked swiftly over to their mother, and hugged her. Ron gave a very shaky laugh and downed the rest of his butterbeer in one.

'Breakfast!' said Sirius loudly and joyfully, jumping to his feet. 'Where’s that accursed house-elf? Kreacher! KREACHER!'

But Kreacher did not answer the summons.

'I can cook love,' said Remus as he rose from his chair. 'I'm not to tired.'

Harry hurried over to the stove to help. He did not want to intrude upon the Weasleys’ happiness, and he dreaded the moment when Mrs Weasley would ask him to recount his vision. However, he had barely taken plates from the dresser when Mrs Weasley lifted them out of his hands and pulled him into a hug.

'I don’t know what would have happened if it hadn’t been for you, Harry,' she said in a muffled voice. 'They might not have found Arthur for hours, and then it would have been too late, but thanks to you he’s alive and Dumbledore’s been able to think up a good cover story for Arthur being where he was, you’ve no idea what trouble he would have been in otherwise, look at poor Sturgis...'

Harry could hardly stand her gratitude, but fortunately she soon released him to turn to Sirius and Remus and thank them for looking after her children through the night. Remus said that that they were just glad they could help, and Sirius said that he hoped they would all stay with them as long as Mr Weasley was in hospital.

'Oh, I’m so grateful...They think he’ll be there a little while and it would be wonderful to be nearer...Of course, that might mean we’re here for Christmas...'

'Its no trouble,' said Remus.

'Yes, the more the merrier!' said Sirius with such obvious sincerity that Mrs Weasley beamed at him, threw on an apron, and began to help Remus with breakfast.

'Sirius,' Harry muttered, unable to stand it a moment longer. 'Can I have a quick word? Er—now?'

He walked into the dark pantry and Sirius followed. Without preamble Harry told his godfather every detail of the vision he had had, including the fact that he himself had been the snake who had attacked Mr Weasley.

When he paused for breath, Sirius said, 'Did you tell Dumbledore this?'

'Yes,' said Harry impatiently, 'but he didn’t tell me what it meant. Well, he doesn’t tell me anything anymore...'

'I’m sure he would have told you if it was anything to worry about,' said Sirius steadily.

'But that’s not all,' said Harry in a voice only a little above a whisper. 'Sirius, I...I think I’m going mad...Back in Dumbledore’s office, just before we took the Portkey...for a couple of seconds there I thought I was a snake, I felt like one—my scar really hurt when I was looking at Dumbledore—Sirius, I wanted to attack him—'

He could only see a sliver of Sirius’s face; the rest was in darkness.

'It must have been the aftermath of the vision, that’s all,' said Sirius. 'You were still thinking of the dream or whatever it was and—'

'It wasn’t that,' said Harry, shaking his head. 'It was like something rose up inside me, like there’s a snake inside me—'

'You need to sleep,' said Sirius firmly. 'You’re going to have breakfast and then go upstairs to bed, and then you can go and see Arthur after lunch with the others. You’re in shock, Harry; you’re blaming yourself for something you only witnessed, and it’s lucky you did witness it or Arthur might have died, but it has still left your system in a terrible shock. Just stop worrying for right now...'

He clapped Harry on the shoulder and left the pantry, leaving Harry standing alone in the dark.

Everyone but Harry spent the rest of the morning sleeping. He went up to the bedroom he had shared with Ron and Theodore over the summer, but while the other two crawled into bed and were asleep within minutes, Harry sat fully clothed, hunched against the cold metal bars of the bedstead, keeping himself deliberately uncomfortable, determined not to fall into a doze, terrified that he might become the serpent again in his sleep and awake to find that he had attacked Theodore, or else slithered through the house after one of the others...

When the others woke up, Harry pretended to have enjoyed a refreshing nap too. Their trunks arrived from Hogwarts while they were eating lunch, so that they could dress as Muggles for the trip to St. Mungo’s. Everybody except Harry was riotously happy and talkative as they changed out of their robes into jeans and sweatshirts, and they greeted Tonks and Mad-Eye, who had turned up to escort them across London, gleefully laughing at the bowler hat Mad-Eye was wearing at an angle to conceal his magical eye and assuring him, truthfully, that Tonks, whose hair was short and bright pink again, would attract far less attention on the underground.

Tonks was very interested in Harry’s vision of the attack on Mr Weasley, something he was not remotely interested in discussing.

'Do you know if there is any Seer blood on your father's side of your family, Harry?' she inquired curiously, as they sat side by side on a train rattling toward the heart of the city.

'No, many potioneers but no Seers that I know of,' said Harry, thinking of Professor Trelawney and feeling insulted.

'No,' said Tonks musingly, 'no, I suppose it’s not really prophecy you’re doing, is it? I mean, you’re not seeing the future, you’re seeing the present...It’s odd, isn’t it? Useful, though...'

Harry did not answer; fortunately they got out at the next stop, a station in the very heart of London, and in the bustle of leaving the train he was able to allow Fred and George to get between himself and Tonks, who was leading the way. They all followed her up the escalator, Moody clunking along at the back of the group, his bowler tilted low and one gnarled hand stuck in between the buttons of his coat, clutching his wand. Harry thought he sensed the concealed eye staring hard at him; trying to deflect more questions about his dream he asked Mad-Eye where St. Mungo’s was hidden as he had very been.'

'Not far from here,' grunted Moody as they stepped out into the wintry air on a broad store-lined street packed with Christmas shoppers. He pushed Harry a little ahead of him and stumped along just behind; Harry knew the eye was rolling in all directions under the tilted hat. 'Wasn’t easy to find a good location for a hospital. Nowhere in Diagon Alley was big enough and we couldn’t have it underground like the Ministry or Gringotts—unhealthy. In the end they managed to get hold of a building up here. Theory was sick wizards could come and go and just blend in with the crowd...'

He seized Harry’s shoulder to prevent them being separated by a gaggle of shoppers plainly intent on nothing but making it into a nearby shop full of electrical gadgets.

'Here we go,' said Moody a moment later.

They had arrived outside a large, old-fashioned, red brick department store called Purge and Dowse Ltd. The place had a shabby, miserable air; the window displays consisted of a few chipped dummies with their wigs askew, standing at random and modeling fashions at least ten years out of date. Large signs on all the dusty doors read closed for refurbishment. Harry distinctly heard a large woman laden with plastic shopping bags say to her friend as they passed, ‘It’s never open, that place...’

‘Right,’ said Tonks, beckoning them forward to a window displaying nothing but a particularly ugly female dummy whose false eye-lashes were hanging off and who was modeling a green nylon pinafore dress. ‘Everybody ready?’

They nodded, clustering around her; Moody gave Harry another shove between the shoulder blades to urge him forward and Tonks leaned close to the glass, looking up at the very ugly dummy and said, her breath steaming up the glass, ‘Wotcher...We’re here to see Arthur Weasley.’

For a split second, Harry thought how absurd it was for Tonks to expect the dummy to hear her talking that quietly through a sheet of glass, when there were buses rumbling along behind her and all the racket of a street full of shoppers. Then he reminded himself that dummies could not hear anyway. Next second his mouth opened in shock as the dummy gave a tiny nod, beckoned its jointed finger, and Tonks had seized Ginny and Mrs Weasley by the elbows, stepped right through the glass and vanished.

Fred, George, and Ron stepped after them; Harry glanced around at the jostling crowd; not one of them seemed to have a glance to spare for window displays as ugly as Purge and Dowse Ltd.’s, nor did any of them seem to have noticed that six people had just melted into thin air in front of them.

‘C’mon you lot,’ growled Moody, giving Harry yet another poke in the back and together all four of them stepped forward through what felt like a sheet of cool water, emerging quite warm and dry on the other side.

There was no sign of the ugly dummy or the space where she had stood. They had arrived in what seemed to be a crowded reception area where rows of witches and wizards sat upon rickety wooden chairs, some looking perfectly normal and perusing out-of-date copies of Witch Weekly, others sporting gruesome disfigurements such as elephant trunks or extra hands sticking out of their chests. The room was scarcely less quiet than the street outside, for many of the patients were making very peculiar noises. A sweaty-faced witch in the center of the front row, who was fanning herself vigorously with a copy of the Daily Prophet, kept letting off a high-pitched whistle as steam came pouring out of her mouth, and a grubby-looking warlock in the corner clanged like a bell every time he moved, and with each clang his head vibrated horribly, so that he had to seize himself by the ears and hold it steady.

Witches and wizards in lime-green robes were walking up and down the rows, asking questions and making notes on clipboards like Umbridge’s. Harry noticed the emblem embroidered on their chests: a wand and bone, crossed.

‘I hoped to never be here again,’ Canini mumbled under her breath.

‘You were a toddler and another gender then, no one will recognize ya. Besides, I'm sure they'll be looking at me and not you,’ said Moody trying to reassure her and also get her to keep moving.

‘Over here!’ called Mrs Weasley over the renewed clanging of the warlock in the corner, and they followed her to the queue in front of a plump blonde witch seated at a desk marked inquiries. The wall behind her was covered in notices and posters saying things like "A clean cauldron keeps potions from becoming poisons" and "Antidotes are anti-don’ts unless approved by a qualified healer."

There was also a large portrait of a witch with long silver ringlets that was labelled:

"DILYS DERWENT

st. mungo’s healer 1722–1741

Headmistress of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, 1741–1768"

Dilys was eyeing the Weasley party as though counting them; when Harry caught her eye she gave a tiny wink, walked sideways out of her portrait, and vanished. Meanwhile, at the front of the queue, a young wizard was performing an odd on-the-spot jig and trying, in between yelps of pain, to explain his predicament to the witch behind the desk.

'It’s these—ouch—shoes my brother gave me—ow—they’re eating my—OUCH—feet—look at them, there must be some kind of—AARGH—jinx on them and I can’t—AAAAARGH—get them off—'

He hopped from one foot to the other as though dancing on hot coals.

'The shoes don’t prevent you reading, do they?' said the blonde witch irritably, pointing at a large sign to the left of her desk. 'You want Spell Damage, fourth floor. Just like it says on the floor guide. Next!'

The wizard hobbled and pranced sideways out of the way, the Weasley party moved forward a few steps and Harry read the floor guide:

"ARTIFACT ACCIDENTS. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Ground Floor (Cauldron explosion, wand backfiring, broom crashes, etc.)

CREATURE-INDUCED INJURIES. . . . . . . . . . . . . First Floor (Bites, stings, burns, embedded spines, etc.)

MAGICAL BUGS. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .Second Floor (Contagious maladies, e.g., dragon pox, vanishing sickness, scrofungulus)

POTION AND PLANT POISONING. . . . . . . . . . . . Third Floor (Rashes, regurgitation, uncontrollable giggling, etc.)

SPELL DAMAGE. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Fourth Floor (Unliftable jinxes, hexes, and incorrectly applied charms, etc.)

VISITORS’ TEAROOM AND HOSPITAL SHOP. . . Fifth Floor

If you are unsure where to go, incapable, of normal speech, or unable to remember why you are here, our Welcome Witch will be pleased to help."

A very old, stooped wizard with a hearing trumpet had shuffled to the front of the queue now.

'I’m here to see Broderick Bode!' he wheezed.

'Ward forty-nine, but I’m afraid you’re wasting your time,' said the witch dismissively 'He’s completely addled, you know, still thinks he’s a teapot...Next!'

A harassed-looking wizard was holding his small daughter tightly by the ankle while she flapped around his head using the immensely large, feathery wings that had sprouted right out the back of her romper suit.

'Fourth floor,' said the witch in a bored voice, without asking, and the man disappeared through the double doors beside the desk, holding his daughter like an oddly shaped balloon. 'Next!'

Mrs Weasley moved forward to the desk.

'Hello,' she said. 'My husband, Arthur Weasley, was supposed to be moved to a different ward this morning, could you tell us—?'

'Arthur Weasley?' said the witch, running her finger down a long list in front of her. 'Yes, first floor, second door on the right, Dai Llewellyn ward.'

'Thank you,' said Mrs Weasley. 'Come on, you lot.'

They followed through the double doors and along the narrow corridor beyond, which was lined with more portraits of famous Healers and lit by crystal bubbles full of candles that floated up on the ceiling, looking like giant soapsuds. More witches and wizards in lime-green robes walked in and out of the doors they passed; a foul-smelling yellow gas wafted into the passageway as they passed one door, and every now and then they heard distant wailing. They climbed a flight of stairs and entered the "Creature-Induced Injuries” corridor, where the second door on the right bore the words “dangerous” dai llewellyn ward: serious bites. Underneath this was a card in a brass holder on which had been handwritten Healer-in-Charge: Hippocrates Smethwyck, Trainee Healer: Augustus Pye.

'We’ll wait outside, Molly,' Tonks said. 'Arthur won’t want too many visitors at once...It ought to be just the family first.'

Mad-Eye growled his approval of this idea and set himself with his back against the corridor wall, his magical eye spinning in all directions. Harry, Canini, and Theodore drew back too, Canini looking especially nervous, but Mrs Weasley reached out a hand and pushed him through the door, saying, 'Don’t be silly, Harry, you're family, and Arthur wants to thank you. Canini, you and Theo can come to.'

The ward was small and rather dingy as the only window was narrow and set high in the wall facing the door. Most of the light came from more shining crystal bubbles clustered in the middle of the ceiling. The walls were of panelled oak and there was a portrait of a rather vicious looking wizard on the wall, captioned urquhart rackharrow, 1612– 1697, inventor of the entrail-expelling curse.

There were only three patients. Mr Weasley was occupying the bed at the far end of the ward beside the tiny window. Harry was pleased and relieved to see that he was propped up on several pillows and reading the Daily Prophet by the solitary ray of sunlight falling onto his bed. He looked around as they walked toward him and, seeing whom it was, beamed.

'Hello!' he called, throwing the Prophet aside. 'Bill just left, Molly, had to get back to work, but he says he’ll drop in on you later...'

'How are you, Arthur?' asked Mrs Weasley, bending down to kiss his cheek and looking anxiously into his face. 'You’re still looking a bit peaky...'

'I feel absolutely fine,' said Mr Weasley brightly, holding out his good arm to give Ginny a hug. 'If they could only take the bandages off, I’d be fit to go home.'

'Why can’t they take them off, Dad?' asked Fred.

'Well, I start bleeding like mad every time they try,' said Mr Weasley cheerfully, reaching across for his wand, which lay on his bedside cabinet, and waving it so that eight extra chairs appeared at his bedside to seat them all. 'It seems there was some rather unusual kind of poison in that snake’s fangs that keeps wounds open...They’re sure they’ll find an antidote, though, they say they’ve had much worse cases than mine, and in the meantime I just have to keep taking a Blood-Replenishing Potion every hour. But that fellow over there,' he said, dropping his voice and nodding toward the bed opposite in which a man lay looking green and sickly and staring at the ceiling. 'Bitten by a werewolf, poor chap. Without a cure he'll become one himself.'

Harry looked to Canini who now seemed quite pale. Harry knew that when Fenrir Greyback bit her and orphaned her when she was three and she was sent to St. Mungo's where she would eventually meet Lyall Lupin and the rest was history, but it hadn't occurred to Harry that this was the exact room she was treated in, Mr Weasley's bed might have once been hers. Realizing just how many painful memories must be arising in her, Harry took her in his and gave it a little squeeze for support.

Mr Weasley continued quietly. 'They’ve been talking to him this morning, the Healers, you know, trying to persuade him he’ll be able to lead an almost normal life. I said to him—didn’t mention names, of course—but I said I knew a couple werewolves personally, very nice people, who finds the condition quite easy to manage...'

'What did he say?' asked George.

'Said he’d give me another bite if I didn’t shut up,' said Mr Weasley sadly. 'And that woman over there,' he indicated the only other occupied bed, which was right beside the door, 'won’t tell the Healers what bit her, which makes us all think it must have been something she was handling illegally. Whatever it was took a real chunk out of her leg, very nasty smell when they take off the dressings.'

'So, you going to tell us what happened, Dad?' asked Fred, pulling his chair closer to the bed.

'Well, you already know, don’t you?' said Mr Weasley, with a significant smile at Harry. 'It’s very simple—I’d had a very long day, dozed off, got sneaked up on, and bitten.'

'Is it in the Prophet, you being attacked?' asked Fred, indicating the newspaper Mr Weasley had cast aside.

'No, of course not,' said Mr Weasley, with a slightly bitter smile, 'the Ministry wouldn’t want everyone to know a dirty great serpent got—'

'Arthur!' said Mrs Weasley warningly.

'—got—er—me,' Mr Weasley said hastily, though Harry was quite sure that was not what he had meant to say.

'So where were you when it happened, Dad?' asked George.

'That’s my business,' said Mr Weasley, though with a small smile. He snatched up the Daily Prophet, shook it open again and said, 'I was just reading about Willy Widdershins’s arrest when you arrived. You know Willy turned out to be behind those regurgitating toilets last summer? One of his jinxes backfired, the toilet exploded, and they found him lying unconscious in the wreckage covered from head to foot in—'

'When you say you were ‘on duty,’' Fred interrupted in a low voice, 'what were you doing?'

'You heard your father,' whispered Mrs Weasley, 'we are not discussing this here! Go on about Willy Widdershins, Arthur—'

'Well, don’t ask me how, but he actually got off on the toilet charge,' said Mr Weasley grimly. 'I can only suppose gold changed hands—'

'You were guarding it, weren’t you?' said George quietly. 'The weapon? The thing You-Know-Who’s after?'

'George, be quiet!' snapped Mrs Weasley.

'Anyway,' said Mr Weasley in a raised voice, 'this time Willy’s been caught selling biting doorknobs to Muggles, and I don’t think he’ll be able to worm his way out of it because according to this article, two Muggles have lost fingers and are now in St Mungo’s for emergency bone regrowth and memory modification. Just think of it, Muggles in St. Mungo’s! I wonder which ward they’re in?'

And he looked eagerly around as though hoping to see a signpost.

'Didn’t you say You-Know-Who’s got a snake, Harry?' asked Fred, looking at his father for a reaction. 'A massive one? You saw it the night he returned, didn’t you?'

'That’s enough,' said Mrs Weasley crossly, and Harry somewhat agreed, while Harry wanted the details to he didn't want Mr Weasley to relive his attack either. 'Mad-Eye and Tonks are outside, Arthur, they want to come and see you. And you lot can wait outside,' she added to her children and Harry. 'You can come and say good-bye afterward. Go on...'

As they got up to leave, a Healer in green robes walked in and stopped dead in his tracks when he saw Canini.

'Eli?' said the older wizard.

'Er no,' she said hesitantly, 'Eli Howling was my mother.'

Both Canini and Harry looked back at Mrs Weasley who sighed and gave a little head nod that Harry interpreted as they were allowed to stay for a minute, but the others still must go. The others exited and Tonks and Moody entered.

A small amount of realization crossed the Healer's face, 'I remember you now, your Canini, I was one of the ones that treated you while you were here. Do you remember me? My name is Hippocrates Smethwyck'

'No, but I don't remember much from so long ago,' she answered honestly, seeming to calm down a little.

'Yes, you would have been quite little then. Well, its always nice to see old patients doing well, have a good—'

'Wait,' said Canini, 'if I may ask, how do you know my mother?'

'Oh, right,' he said. 'I used to work with her brother, Eustace Burke, and she would drop by to see him sometimes. Kind witch, your mother, always talked to the patients who had no visitors. I often wondered how such a nice witch like her could be related to such a traitorous git like Eustace...sorry, he was your uncle, I probably shouldn't have said that.'

'Don't worry, its true, he refused to take me in when my parents died because of my condition so I don't consider him family.'

'Ok children, let the Healer do his job,' called out Mrs Weasley, though it more appeared she just wanted to talk with the other adults in private.

They trooped back into the corridor, and a couple minutes later Hippocrates Smethwyck left the room as well. Fred raised his eyebrows.

'Fine,' he said coolly, rummaging in his pockets, 'if they're not going to tell us what's going on we're going to have to learn for ourselves.'

'Looking for these?' said George, holding out what looked like a tangle of flesh-colored string.

'You read my mind,' said Fred, grinning. 'Let’s see if St Mungo’s puts Imperturbable Charms on its ward doors, shall we?'

He and George disentangled the string and separated five Extendable Ears from each other. Fred and George handed them around.

'Some will have to share,' said George.

But Harry hesitated to take one.

'Go on, Harry, take it! You saved Dad’s life, if anyone’s got the right to eavesdrop on him it’s you...'

Grinning in spite of himself, Harry took the end of the string and inserted it into his ear as the twins had done.

'Okay, go!' Fred whispered.

The flesh-colored strings wriggled like long skinny worms, then snaked under the door. For a few seconds Harry could hear nothing, then he heard Tonks whispering as clearly as though she were standing right beside him.

'...they searched the whole area but they couldn’t find the snake anywhere, it just seems to have vanished after it attacked you, Arthur...But You-Know-Who can’t have expected a snake to get in, can he?'

'I reckon he sent it as a lookout,' growled Moody, ' ’cause he’s not had any luck so far, has he? No, I reckon he’s trying to get a clearer picture of what he’s facing and if Arthur hadn’t been there the beast would’ve had much more time to look around. So Potter says he saw it all happen?'

'Yes,' said Mrs Weasley. She sounded rather uneasy. 'You know, Dumbledore seems almost to have been waiting for Harry to see something like this...'

'Yeah, well,' said Moody, 'there’s something funny about the Potter kid, we all know that.'

'Dumbledore seemed worried about Harry when I spoke to him this morning,' whispered Mrs Weasley.

' ’Course he’s worried,' growled Moody. 'The boy’s seeing things from inside You-Know-Who’s snake...Obviously, Potter doesn’t realize what that means, but if You-Know-Who’s possessing him—'

Harry pulled the Extendable Ear out of his own, his heart hammering very fast and heat rushing up his face. He looked around at the others. They were all staring at him, the strings still trailing from their ears, looking suddenly fearful.