Myra had been a nurse for many years. She had worked with brain injury patients for most of that time at a local hospital. Most of her time was spent assisting people who would have some degree of improvement and would eventually go home after having gone through extensive rehabilitation.
But tonight she was working in the ward. The ward had 12 beds and was exclusively for those patients in persistent vegetative states.
She mostly enjoyed working with PVS patients. It was quiet and she could care for them at a leisurely rate. Due to state right to life laws, most people were in the ward about a year before their families would petition the courts to remove feeding tubes and allow the patient to die. Sometimes a patient would die and every now and again someone would wake up enough to change status and leave the ward.
Tonight was her last night though. She had requested a transfer out of the unit to another floor and she was training her replacement.
She sat with the replacement nurse and went over the charts. Joanne was tall and blonde and like herself quiet and calm. Then they started working with each patient in turn.
She told Joanne about each patient as they took vitals, checked PEG tubes, and repositioned patients.
“I’ve saved this patient for last” Myra said as she looked down at a teenage boy. Joanne checked the chart.
Joanne asked, “This is H. Potter?”
“Yes,” Myra replied. I saved him till last because he’s the most unique PVS patient I’ve ever worked with. (And why I’m leaving she thought to herself)
“He’s unique”, she continued, “because as we work with him he’ll start talking to us. It doesn’t make a lot of sense but some of it does.”
They began caring for the patient. He became restless and suddenly said “a Nimbus 2000! That’s the broom all the famous Quidditch players use!”
“Quidditch?” asked Joanne.
Myra checked her notes. “We think it’s some sort of game. But we can only guess. If you’re lucky, he will narrate an entire match for you.”
Joanne thought about this as she began to bathe the young man. “Where did he get this scar?” she asked Myra.
Suddenly the patient sat up, opened his eyes, and said “Voldemort is going to kill all of us. He’s cursed me and killed Dumbledore, and then he cast a Timeturner spell to make it seem like none of this ever happened. He thinks he can quietly take over this way. You’ve got to stop him. You’ve got to call the Ministry of Magic and talk to…” he abruptly stopped as Myra injected him with a sedative. Myra gently laid him down and started bathing him again.
Joanne was shocked. “Why would you do that? He’s lucid. We should be calling the doctor! We should be calling the Neuro team in here to evaluate him!”
Myra smiled ruefully at Joanne. “This isn’t the first time he’s done this. I did all that 3 years ago when he did it the first time. I’ve had Neuro in here evaluating him over and over again. There are only minimal brainwaves there. Dr. Malfoy thinks it’s some sort of psychological anomaly and that he should be sedated when he’s in this state. If you really want to know, it sort of creeps me out. He’s the reason I’m leaving the floor. I kept getting my hopes up that he was coming around.”
The two nurses finished the young man’s bath. Then Joanne remembered something. The scar.
“Myra, how did he get the scar?”
Myra checked the chart. “Says here that he received that scar in the car crash that killed his parents and brought him here. Anyway, I’m going to finish up charting and then I’ll turn everything over to you.”
Myra walked out of the room but Joanne lingered.
Joanne leaned down close to the patient. “I believe you. Tell me the rest of your story and together we’ll find a way to defeat Voldemort. I’ll help you, Harry Potter.”