HEALER MAEVE ELPIS had been there since day one and currently, it was day two thousand one hundred and ninety. Exactly six years had passed since Charlus Potter was brought into St Mungo's Hospital for Magical Maladies and Injuries. In the short time she had been working there, she had never seen such a gruesome sight. A man barely over the age of twenty, nearly unrecognisable by the amount of dried blood and open wounds that covered the surface of his body. She thought he was dead until the Aurors confirmed otherwise, it was then when she checked to find the faintest of pulses.

He should have been dead, that much she knew. It was nothing short of a miracle that he was alive, but Maeve wasn't entirely sure if he was going to make it through the night. The amount of blood that he lost before being found had placed his body into a shocked state. Charlus didn't respond to anything and Maeve hoped she wasn't too late.

The Aurors claimed he had been placed under the Cruciatus Curse, unsure of how long he had been left to suffer when they finally arrived on the scene. The Curse itself didn't cause physical harm, but it could trick the body into thinking it was being tortured. With all pain receptors triggered, it was more than possible that a person could work themselves into insanity or even into cardiac arrest trying to escape the pain.

In hopes of his recovery, Maeve felt she had no other choice but to induce Charlus into a comatose state. She prayed to any higher power that was willing to listen that it would aid in helping his body heal. She normally attempted to keep herself from getting attached to any patient that entered hospital, but she couldn't help it, especially after Sirius Black arrived later on that first evening.

The man was in complete hysterics, fighting off anyone who tried to get in his way as he demanded to see Charlus. Maeve allowed him to come through, attempting to warn him that he wasn't going to like what he saw, nor were the chances high of Charlus making a full recovery. He didn't seem to care, he just wanted to see Charlus, that was all he said over and over. At first, she believed him to be a dear friend, until she witnessed such an intimate moment of Sirius crying by the side of the bed.

He had Charlus' hands in his, pressed against his mouth as he apologised for not being there to protect him. He begged numerous times for Charlus to wake up or say something and as his head fell in defeat, Maeve finally noticed the matching wedding rings that both men wore. She wasn't the only one either, but she managed to shoo off her co-workers that decided to cast their judgemental looks during such a time.

Before she could say anything else to Sirius, he had her by the front of her lime-green robes, holding her in place. He only had one request or rather a demand, and that was that she do everything in her power to help Charlus.

She agreed.

Since that time, plenty had happened and plenty had changed. The war that Charlus had been involved in came to an end, Sirius Black went to prison for multiple murders, and his nephew became The Boy Who Lived. Some days, Maeve hoped that Charlus wouldn't make a full recovery because she didn't know how she was going to break such news to him. But she kept her promise of trying everything she could because even if Sirius Black was a traitor and a murderer, all she had witnessed the day of her promise was love.

"Good morning, Mr Potter," she greeted as she entered Charlus' room at the start of her shift, "I'm going to open up some windows in here today. The weather outside is surprisingly nice. I figured you'd enjoy a natural breeze coming in."

Maeve knew she was wasting her time talking to Charlus, not because he was in a coma, but simply because even if he was actively awake, he couldn't hear her. It was shortly after the arrival of Sirius did she learn that her newest patient was deaf. But it usually made her feel better to fill in the silence of the room.

With a wave of her wand, she opened the windows and a warm breeze of spring entered right away. It carried the fresh scent of the rain that had fallen the night before leaving a beautiful sunrise in its wake.

Making her way over to his bed, Charlus was in the same position that she had left him the night before, his hands folded over his chest in a resting position. It was an unnatural position for him to sleep in, but the safest in her opinion. He was breathing on his own, the sign was the rise and fall of his chest that she could see. That was normally a good sign, however, it had still been quite some time that Maeve didn't think he was going to ever recover.

Thinking of other victims of the war that hadn't died, her mind travelled to Alice and Frank Longbottom, two others that had been brought in shortly after Charlus. She had tried to do the same for them to save the couple, unfortunately, it wasn't enough. They had awakened from their comas a couple of weeks after their arrival, and it was clear that the torture had taken its effect on their minds.

Two prized Aurors had lost their whole ability to function on their own, Maeve was forced to watch as they were deemed insane by the hospital's standards; and St Mungo's became their permanent residence.

"Alright," she sighed, " let's get you stretching, shall we?"

Other Healers in St Mungo's deemed Maeve mad for focusing so much of her time on Charlus Potter. Many of them encouraged her to give up on multiple occasions,  but she ignored them. As long as she tended to her other patients in a competent manner, there was no need for them to jump in her business. And after all, financially, between Sirius Black's contribution and the funding of the Potter family, Charlus could live out the rest of his days in St Mungo's and no one could do anything about it.

However, the discussion and debate of the quality of life had come up numerous times. Was it cruel to keep him lying in bed for the rest of his life or would it be an act of mercy to let him slip into a peaceful and permanent sleep? Maeve couldn't bring herself to think about such things, mainly because she had formed an attachment to Charlus without trying. He was like a good friend that was always there for her.

She would spend her breaks in his room, making sure that he was as comfortable as possible. And at the off chance that he did wake up someday, Maeve had even taken to teaching herself a bit of sign language to ease the transition. Killing him just wasn't seen as an option and there was no one around to argue. Charlus' closest blood relative was his nephew Harry, who was only around seven years old going on eight and no one had seen him since the night He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named was destroyed.

Charlus' limbs were stiff as they usually were from the lack of movement. She would take to completing several exercises and having him sit up to encourage blood flow and keep his muscles working. Maeve often thought of it like working a rather large doll as she moved him around; as time went on, he grew lighter or maybe she grew stronger. And normally, there was never a reaction from him, except that morning when he let out a groan.

Immediately, Maeve dropped his arm in fright of the noise, and took a step back from the bed. His arm dangled over the side, the rest of him remaining still and she wondered after a minute or so if she had mistaken another sound for what she believed had come from him. Reaching for his arm again, she began moving it around, bending him at the elbow, and like all the times before there was no reaction.

A little laugh escaped from her as she pressed her hand to her forehead. "Seems like I'm the one in need of the fresh air," she muttered.

She continued her routine, taking the time to comb through Charlus' thick hair, even though it didn't make a bit of difference. No matter what Maeve seemed to do, the locks of jet black hair remained unruly. Although she was lucky enough to be able to keep his beard trimmed that had developed over time.

Once she was finished, Maeve used her wand to fluff his pillows before she walked over and gave his hand a squeeze.

"Alright, Mr Potter, I'll be back on my lunch to-"

Just as she went to release her hold, Maeve swore she had felt a faint squeeze.

"Mr Potter?"

Perhaps six years was taking its toll on Maeve as she found herself all too disappointed that Charlus remained quiet and still. It seemed her mind was playing tricks on her, in desperation that after so long, another miracle could happen. She came up with so many silly promises to whoever would listen to her such as volunteering more of her time to those in need or even committing herself to going to church again.

The last time she had been, she was a little girl, dragged inside by her mother who attended nearly every Sunday without fail. But that was before it was discovered that Maeve was a witch, a muggle-born they had called her. Her mother told her shortly after that Maeve wasn't allowed to step foot in the church; that was before she shipped Maeve off to live with her father. Too ashamed to have a witch for a daughter in the eyes of God.

Her father claimed that God loved all of his children, whether they possessed magic or not. Maeve didn't know who to believe at the time, leaving her to believe in nothing after awhile. But in times of need, she always found herself glancing towards the skies. Maybe that was why she didn't get a response, she only devoted herself to the idea of a higher being when she was in need. However, this time, she wasn't asking anything for herself, she was asking it for Charlus.

She didn't know him personally, hell, she had never met him in his conscious state, but after all the time that passed, she only wanted happiness for him.

"Hello," she spoke in the emptiness of the room where she sat, glancing up at the ceiling, "it's me, Maeve...again. Sorry to keep pestering you, it's just, well, I've been thinking. Six years is a long time, you know? I think it's getting to me now, what everyone has said before. What if I'm just holding onto something that isn't there? Doesn't seem fair, not to him, not to myself either. I don't know what to do anymore. I want to hold onto hope that maybe someday something will happen for the better. But then again, how long should I wait? I'm not asking for much right now, but maybe just a sign would do. You know, point me in the right direction?"

The door opened and Maeve's prayer time came to an end.

"I'm surprised to see you sitting here," Mirela Lilure called out to her as she entered the staff room. Maeve had been picking apart what she had packed for lunch when the other Healer approached, sitting down across from her.

"Where else would I be?" Maeve questioned. "I'm on lunch."

"Well, yes," Mirela said with a bit of an eye roll, " but seeing as your little friend has been causing quite a stir, I figured you of all people would be on the scene."

There was a passing moment of silence as Maeve had stabbed a green bean rather violently before peering up at Mirela. "What are you talking about?"

"What? You didn't hear? Your boyfriend is awake."

Certainly, nothing more needed to be said as Maeve quickly abandoned her lunch and headed straight for Charlus' room. She hesitated for just a moment, thinking that it wouldn't be above her co-workers to pull a prank on her. They had been teasing her about Charlus for years, believing she had fallen in love with a coma patient. But it wasn't like that as Maeve tried to explain countless times.

For Merlin's sake, she just wanted to see the man wake up and be well.

Nearly sliding on the floor, Maeve rounded the corner just in time to see a crowd of Healers outside of his room, crowding the doorway. She hurried over as fast as she could, pushing others out of her way to catch a glimpse inside. Of course, to her dismay, the first thing she spotted was blood on the floor.

"What happened?!" she screeched, pushing her way fully into the room. "What-"

Her voice was drowned out by yelling that came from the other side of the bed where two other Healers were standing. As soon as they spotted Maeve, they quickly stepped back to let her intervene.

"I was walking passed the room and I heard him yelling," Dave Bradley told her, " actual yelling. I thought I was hearing things so I walked in and there he was yelling "Dear James." I didn't know what to think but before I knew it, he was trying to get out of the bed. He wasn't strong enough and hit the floor. Hit the side of his head, nothing to major-"

Maeve didn't have to hear anything else, it wouldn't have made a difference anyways. Instead, she pushed Dave aside and motioned the other Healer to back away. Charlus was on the ground where he had fallen, a gash on the corner of his forehead from where he fell explaining the blood. However, her focus was enirely on Charlus and how his arms were covering the top of his head.

His body shook violently as he continued to call out for help. He called out names such as "James, Sirius, Lily..." in such a hoarse voice, hoping that one of them would come to his rescue. And for a minute, Maeve was left with one of her worst fears that she believe would happen if he woke up. She couldn't tell him that James and Lily were dead and Sirius was in Azkaban, it would be too much for him.

But she had to do something as he worked himself into a frenzy. With no choice, Maeve had to immobilise Charlus once again before he hurt himself or anyone else in the room. Using her wand, she was able to get him back in bed, trying to ignore the panicked look of his eyes scanning the environment around him. Once his body was settled, she started to heal the wound on his head, ordering everyone in the room to leave.

It was already an overwhelming experience, people gawking at Charlus wasn't going to make it any better. His gaze finally focused on her and beyond looking upset, he looked wildly confused. 

Maeve thought initially that when he woke up that it would be a very slow process into having him reenter the world. But it seemed magic had accelerated some of the process but not for the better in her opinion. Removing the immobilising charm, Maeve needed to try to calm him down as much as possible.

"Mr Potter," she spoke, blanking on his lack of hearing momentarily, " my name is Maeve Eplis. I've been your Healer since you arrived. I know you're really confused right now and that's okay. I'm going to take the time to explain to you as much as possible, but I need you to calm down, can you do that for me?"

He just stared at her and Maeve could have smacked herself for her mistake. However, before she could apologise, she could see his fingers moving at his side. He didn't have enough strength to move both arms to place his hands together. He was spelling something to her, leaving Maeve to put all her focus to try and decipher the fingerspelling.

"He..." she whispered as she started placing the letters together, " he...he is...he is going..."

At first, Maeve didn't know who he was that Charlus was referring to but then it clicked when she put the sentence together.

"He is going to go after Harry."

Her heart broke instantly as Charlus delivered his warning in hopes that it would be passed along. She ended up sitting on the edge of the bed, her lips pressed together in a thin line; she couldn't even bring herself to look at him at the time.

How was Maeve supposed to tell Charlus that he was too late?

Six years too late.