Alternative Medicine

a Harry Potter fanfic by canoncansodoff

Summary: Harry is struck down by a nasty curse a moment after he became The Boy-Who-Won that requires some non-traditional treatment, tenderly administered by a trio of young witches willing to share in more than just his physical therapy.

Ship: Harry/Hermione/Padma/Parvati

Rating: M

Disclaimer: Not my characters, no money being made, etc., etc.

oo00OO00oo

Chapter One

The-Boy-Who-Won woke with a blinding headache and a full bladder.

"He-ll-pp?" he rasped.

"Oh, Harry...you're awake...how wonderful!"

The young wizard tried to turn towards the the familiar voice, but found himself immobilized from the neck down. Putting his own condition aside from the moment, he focused on what mattered most...the sight of his bushy-haired best friend dressed in muggle shorts and a t-shirt, stretching out from a kip on a rattan sofa.

"Her...Hermione, are you okay?"

"I'm fine, Harry...thanks to you, of course," Hermione replied. "I'm so happy that you're...so what do you need? What can I get you?"

"Erm...some answers would be nice, but first I need to use the loo."

Hermione's focus shot involuntarily down towards Harry's crotch.

"Oh, well...go ahead."

"What?"

"Go ahead and take care of your business, Harry."

"What? Erm...How?"

"Oh, sorry, I forgot," Hermione replied sheepishly. "You've got a partial paralysis charm applied to aid your healing, so you're wearing a magical bedpan."

Harry groaned. He'd run into this situation more times than he'd care to recall whist under Madame Pomfrey's care.

"Would it be easier for me to leave the room?" Hermione asked.

With a sigh, Harry replied, "No...I mean...it's not like we haven't been in this situation before, and there is a sheet covering me, right?"

"Right now there is."

"Right now?" Harry asked with concern. "Does that mean there have been times when I haven't been covered with bed linens?"

"Not that you know," Hermione replied with a giggle, as she made for the door. "I'll go get the Healer."

With a giggle. Since when did Hermione giggle?

Harry shook his head relaxed control of his bladder. The therapeutic version of the paralysis charm allowed for that sort of thing, of course... wouldn't do to have heart muscles frozen and other bodily functions interrupted by magic. The resulting stream of yellow spray was instantly banished as it left his body by a device that actually looked like and functioned more like a magical nappie than a magical bedpan.

His business finished, Harry tried to recall how he got to be where he was. No great surprise that he was in hospital...he had met Voldemort on the field of battle for one final confrontation. He remembered slipping in the Accio spell amidst all of the heavy-duty curses...the spell that Voldemort missed, until it sent him sailing through the air towards the sharpened tip of the Sword of Gryffindor held in Harry's off-hand.

The last thing Harry remembered about the battle was planting his foot on the Dark Lord's chest, in an effort to pull the blade from his nemesis' impaled heart.

Not getting any further in his recollections, Harry took in his present environs. They were, quite surprisingly, new to him...located neither within the Hogwarts Infirmary or St. Mungo's. The headache made looking about the room painful, but that didn't keep him from using his other senses. Neither Hogwarts or St. Mungo's could have provided a private room with an opened window that allowed a warm gentle breeze to carry exotic scents and the sound of crashing surf.

Particularly in January.

Confirmation of these clues came when Hermione returned with a Healer. There were, of course, Healers of South Asian descent working in St. Mungo's, but none that dressed in saris, or worked in hospitals whose rooms overlooked a tropical beach.

The smiling elderly witch cast a spell that adjusted Harry's bed so that he was sitting upright. She then asked, "How are you feeling, Mr. Potter?"

Harry snorted, and looked down at his uncovered torso. He was shocked to see arms that were little more than twisted bits of flesh on bone, but focused on the immediate question.

"About all I can feel is a throbbing headache."

"Let me address that issue, then, before I perform my examination."

She walked to the opened door and called out a request using a melodious foreign language.

Harry made the most of his limited muscular control and arched his eyebrows towards his hairline when two young witches responded to the call.

"Padma? Parvati?"

The sari-wearing witches smiled as they approached Harry's bedside. Padma reached out and touched Harry's shoulder while her twin sister angled a straw tip into his mouth. The headache potion that the young wizard sipped through that straw was both effective and delicious.

"Now I know for sure that I'm not in Britain," Harry stated.

"Why is that, Harry?" asked Padma.

"There isn't a medicinal potion in the British Isles that tastes that good."

"Well you would know, having had need for most of them," Hermione replied. She stood on the bedside opposite of the the Patil twins, and mimicked Padma's shoulder touch.

"So where, exactly... "

"You are a honored guest of the Kovalam Arya Vaidya Sala," the Healer replied.

"India, then?"

The older witch nodded. "Kerala State, close to Thiruvananthapuram City."

"Thiru-vana..."

"Easier to call it Trivandrum," Padma suggested with a smile.

"But how?"

Hermione and the twins tried explained while the Healer undertook a series of diagnostic charms.

"You see, Harry...just after you killed Voldemort, you got hit with a nasty hex."

"What kind...who?"

"Dolohov," Hermione replied. "And it was some type of withering curse that affected all of your extremities."

"A withering curse...on my extrem...you mean just my arms and legs, right?"

All three witches giggled.

"Yes, Harry...just your arms and legs," Padma offered.

Parvati lifted up the side of Harry's sheet and said, "Maybe I should double-check, just to be certain?"

The Gryffindor witch's efforts were thwarted when the Healer slapped her hand away from the bed and scolded her in Malayalam.

Padma's scolding was in English.

"Haven't you've checked out that appendage enough times since he's been here?"

"No, actually."

Harry blushed, and asked, "Erm...so how long..."

"Close to twenty centimeters, I would think."

"Parvati!" her sister exclaimed.

Harry's blush grew. "I meant to ask how long I've been in hospital."

"Three days here," Hermione replied, casting a disproving look towards her dorm mate. "Another three days at St. Mungo's before that."

"So why here?" Harry asked. When the Healer glanced up from her wand work, Harry got nervous. "Not that there's anything wrong with here...or that I don't appreciate it..."

"No worries, Mr. Potter," the healer replied with a smile.

"St. Mungo's was a zoo," explained Hermione. "We couldn't keep the press away, and the Ministry seemed more interested in taking credit than providing security."

"Why am I not surprised?"

"And then there was the issue of care," Padma added. "Neither Madame Pomfrey nor the healers at St. Mungo's could control the withering, so they had you under a stasis spell."

"So..."

"So we were with you that last day," Parvati stated. "I actually saw the spell cast on you...and it sort of reminded me of some of the more gruesome bedtime stories that our father told us."

"Gruesome bedtime stories?" Harry asked.

"Well, not that gruesome," interjected Padma. "Sagas about battles between Indian wizards and the Nagas...that sort of thing. One of the stories involved a handsome wizard prince that was struck by a withering curse similar to yours."

"Really?" asked Harry.

Padma nodded. "So Parvati and I told our parents, who contacted our Auntie, here..."

"Auntie?" Harry asked. He turned his head towards the healer. "So you're their Aunt?"

The witch smiled and nodded her head. "Great Aunt, actually. I'm sorry, I should have introduced myself...Healer Patil, at your service."

"Aunt and Uncle run this Ayurvedic Hospital," explained Parvati. "They were more than willing to help, as was the Indian magical ministry, so..."

"So we kidnapped you from St. Mungo's and brought you here," Hermione said nervously. "Hope that you don't mind."

Harry snorted, and the room was quiet as he considered his response.

On the one hand, his hands (and, presumably legs) were useless to him. But on the other hand, he was alive, and Voldemort was dead. He frankly hadn't expected to survive the final battle, so he decided then and there to consider his glass half-full.

And that meant making the most of present circumstances.

"Let me see...instead of being held in stasis at St. Mungo's with a horde of pesky reporters and animagus beetles hovering over me, I wake up to a lovely room by the beach, attended by four of the loveliest healers a patient to could hope for."

"Oh, Mr. Potter, such a flirt!" Healer Patil chided. The smile on her face and twinkle in her eye softened the admonishment. There was, in contrast, nothing sort about the deep blush on the other witches' faces.

"So," Harry continued. "I've got something in common with another bedtime story hero, huh?"

"Oh, Harry...stop!"

"What?" Harry said with a grin. "Maybe if I can't stop all of the fan-girl attention, I should embrace it? Ginny always tried to measure me against the stories she was told."

Hermione rolled her eyes and shook her head. "Yes, go ahead, by all means...embrace the horde of fan-girls. I'm sure that they'd be willing to reciprocate."

"Nah," Harry said with a roguish grin. "I'd rather stay here and be embraced by you lot."

"Really?" asked Parvati.

"Sure, why not?" Harry replied brightly. "Of course, I might have problems doing any kind of embracing for a while."

"I think we could work on that," offered Hermione.

"So tell me more about this magical prince that shared my misfortune," asked Harry. "Did he get healed and live happily ever after with a harem?"

"Harry!" chided Hermione.

Originally posted here:

Alternative Medicine Chapter 1: Like Some Other Bedtime ...