The Beginning of Something New
The Hospital Wing smelled like antiseptic potions and crisp, freshly laundered sheets.
Harry had been here more times than he could count—but today, for the first time, he was here by choice.
Madam Pomfrey looked mildly surprised to see him standing in the doorway. “Mr. Potter?” She raised an eyebrow. “I don’t recall you having an injury.”
Harry took a breath. “I—er, I wanted to ask you something.”
Pomfrey eyed him suspiciously, but waved him inside. “Well? Spit it out, then.”
Harry shifted awkwardly. “I… I want to be a Healer.”
Pomfrey actually paused.
For a moment, she just stared at him, as if he had suddenly announced he wanted to take up professional ballroom dancing.
Then—her expression softened.
“Do you, now?”
Harry nodded. “I—I know it probably sounds mad, but I—I think I’d be good at it. And I want to learn. Properly.”
Pomfrey hummed, studying him carefully.
Then, to his surprise, she nodded.
“I was wondering when you’d figure it out,” she said.
Harry blinked. “Wait—what?”
Pomfrey gave him a knowing look. “You’ve been in and out of this wing since you were eleven. Always watching. Always asking questions about what I was doing. I’ve seen you helping others long before you realized that’s what you were doing.”
Harry stared.
Pomfrey smirked. “So, you want to be a Healer?” She gestured to a stack of books beside her desk. “Start reading.”
An Hour Later…
Harry’s brain was melting.
Pomfrey had handed him an entire stack of medical texts, some of which were thicker than his head. He was currently hunched over Anatomy of Magical Maladies, scribbling barely legible notes as Pomfrey quizzed him.
“Name three causes of spell damage that require immediate blood-replenishing potions.”
Harry frowned, thinking. “Uh—severe curse wounds, blood-letting hexes, and—uh—”
Pomfrey gave him a pointed look.
Harry snapped his fingers. “—botched blood magic rituals?”
Pomfrey nodded approvingly. “Good. At least you have some common sense.”
Harry sagged in relief.
The door suddenly creaked open, and a familiar Irish accent filled the air.
“Blimey, Potter. Studying? What’s the world comin’ to?”
Harry groaned.
Seamus Finnigan leaned casually against the doorframe, smirking.
His dark brown eyes flickered to the stack of books in front of Harry, and his grin widened. “Well, this is a sight. Never thought I’d live to see the day.”
Harry rolled his eyes. “What do you want, Finnigan?”
Seamus sauntered in, shoving his hands in his pockets. “Nothin’—just curious. Everyone’s wonderin’ where the Chosen One’s been hiding.”
Harry sighed. “I’m studying.”
Seamus raised an eyebrow. “Studying what?”
Pomfrey answered for him. “Healing magic.”
Seamus’s smirk vanished.
He blinked. Once. Twice. Then—
“You’re what?”
Harry crossed his arms. “You heard me.”
Seamus stared for a moment, then—grinned.
“Well, I’ll be damned,” he said, clearly impressed. “Didn’t know you had it in you, Potter.”
Harry huffed. “Thanks for the vote of confidence.”
Seamus ignored him, tilting his head. “So, what—you’re tryin’ to fix people now instead of breakin’ ‘em?”
Harry hesitated.
Then—he nodded. “Yeah.”
Seamus was quiet for a beat.
Then—he grinned. “Huh.”
Harry frowned. “What?”
Seamus shrugged, still smirking. “Just never thought I’d say this, but—I think it suits ya.”
Harry blinked.
That… wasn’t what he expected to hear.
Seamus smirked, tossing a wink at Madam Pomfrey. “Well, I’ll leave ya to it, then. Can’t be keepin’ Hogwarts’ future greatest Healer from his studies.”
Harry scowled. “Seamus—”
But Seamus was already backing toward the door. “See ya at dinner, Healer Potter.”
The door swung shut.
Pomfrey shook her head, chuckling under her breath. “That boy’s trouble.”
Harry rubbed his temples. “Don’t I know it.”
And yet…
For some reason, he found himself smiling.