At first, James hadn't understood why he was here at St. Mungo's while Lily had been left at their grandparents' house.

After an hour, he realized that this was the start of his punishment. Sitting in the waiting room was torture.

His father was tapping his foot impatiently, arms crossed over his chest. His mother kept looking around, letting out a soft "hmph!" whenever a Healer passed by them to question another patient. And every minute or so one of them would turn and give James a dirty look, which made him sink shamefully in his seat.

As for Albus...

For the third time in the last half hour, Al rose to his feet and tried to stumble away from the family. Harry reached out, grabbed the back of his robes and pulled him back into his chair with practiced ease.

"Hold on, Al," he mumbled. "Not much longer, we hope."

Albus made an low groan, his head swaying from side to side. His eyes were glassy, and he kept forgetting to close his mouth all the way. It had been almost three hours since he said a coherent word.

James looked away from him, focusing across the room on a witch who kept burping up large purple bubbles. He was trying to convince himself that this whole situation was actually very funny, but he wasn't really succeeding.

The witch at the front of the waiting room consulted her parchment and called "Potter, Albus?"

"Finally," Ginny snapped, but quietly, as she and Harry stood. Albus remained seated until Harry helped him out of his seat.

"Come on, Al..."

Albus seemed incapable of walking in a straight line; Harry had to hold his shoulders and direct him into the next room. James also remained in his seat, and tried not to sound timid as he said, "I'll wait—"

"No," Ginny said, taking him by the hand and pulling him behind her. James hunched his shoulders but didn't try to resist.

They entered an examination room labeled Hygeia Quinn: Mental spells, and waited for another twenty minutes. Finally a tall, older witch with curly white hair arrived. At that point Harry was trying to wrestle Albus back onto the examining table, as he repeatedly tried to drink the potions that were simmering on the counter.

"Sorry, sorry for the wait," she said, as Harry held Albus tightly in place. Her eyes momentarily snapped to Harry's scar, then to Albus, then to the clipboard in her hand. "I'm Healer Quinn. What seems to be the problem here?"

"Well, our older son—who will not be touching his broomstick for at least six weeks—" James flinched again as Harry gave him a furious look, "—thought it would be funny to try and Confund our younger son here." He gestured to Albus. "He's been like this ever since."

Albus' mouth was hanging open again, and a thin trail of drool was coming out. Ginny tutted and began to wipe it off with a handkerchief.

Healer Quinn gave a wan smile. "Not to worry; this sort of thing happens all the time." She leaned closer to Albus. "Hello, sweetie? Can you hear me?"

Albus' eyes continued to wander around the room as though she wasn't there. With a "hmm," the Healer took out of her wand and said "Lumos!" After a moment Albus' gaze settled on the wand's light; when she moved it, he slowly followed. He reached out like he wanted to take the wand, and she calmly extinguished it, putting it out of his range on the counter.

"He at least seems to have some sense of his surroundings. Do you have the wand that caused this?"

"It's mine, right here," Ginny said, handing it to her.

The Healer briefly put it in a device that looked like a one-dished scale, then read the slip of paper that the machine produced. She "hmmed" again, giving James a look. "I admit, I'm a bit impressed," she said wryly. "At your son's age, he must be very talented to overdo this spell so badly."

"Thanks?" James said awkwardly as his parents glared at him again.

"Is there anything you can do, Healer Quinn?" Harry asked anxiously.

"Like I said, this is actually very common, but it'll take a day or so to fix completely. Let's see..." She reclaimed her wand and nodded at Harry. "You might want to hold young Albus steady; this is probably going to give him a bit of a headache."

Harry looked grave as took Albus by the shoulders again; Albus continued to gaze at the opposite wall. Healer Quinn pointed her wand at his forehead, then gave it a sharp rap. "Expedimentis!"

Immediately Albus' whole body went stiff, his eyes widened, and then he grabbed his head, throwing Harry's hands off. "AGH! Ow ow ow..."

"Is he alright?" Ginny asked, rushing forward to examine him.

"Fine, fine," the Healer assured. "The Recombobulating Charm is just kick-starting his mind as it tries to reorganize itself. He'll still be a bit dozy until tomorrow morning at least. If you don't mind, I think it best if he spends the night here. Mental magic can be a bit tricky, so it's best if we keep him under observation."

"If that's what you think is best," Harry said. He looked at Albus, who had stopped shouting, though he was still holding his head and looking pale. "You hear that, Al? You're going to be spending the night here at the hospital. Is that alright?"

Albus' face settled on Harry's, but he didn't answer, forehead wrinkled like he couldn't quite figure out what he was seeing.

"Ah, you see? He's improving already," the Healer said.

A trainee Healer led them out of the examining room and into the Lethe O'Sullivan Ward, pointed to a bed, and told them that another Healer would be around shortly.

An hour passed, during which James just sat in a chair awkwardly and tried to avoid looking at his family. (The old man barking in another bed at least provided a loud distraction.)

"How are you feeling now, sweetie?" Ginny asked, fussing over Albus every few minutes.

Albus' brow wrinkled, looking at his mother with confusion. "Where...am I?" he mumbled.

"We're at St. Mungo's, Al. Remember?" asked Harry.

Albus looked confused, turned away from them, and then looked back, his eyes suddenly bright with understanding. Or at least that's what his parents thought, until he asked "What's for breakfast?"

Finally, a balding wizard came in and introduced himself as Healer Singh. He bent down to look Albus in the eyes. "Hello, there, son. What's your name?"

Albus seemed to put a great deal of thought into his answer. "Albus," he said finally.

"Very good! And can you tell me your birthday?"

Albus blinked and said nothing. "Can you tell me the month?" Healer Singh prompted.

"...September?"

He looked at Ginny, who rolled her eyes. "February."

"What about the day, Albus? Can you tell me what day of the week it is today?"

"Day...? Monday, Tuesday, Wednesday, Thursday...Friday, weekend," Albus recited carefully.

James shifted guiltily in his seat. Again he got the feeling that this was should be funny, but instead he felt extremely nervous. "Al's not gonna be like this forever, is he?" he blurted.

"Oh, don't worry about that," the Healer said, making a note on his clipboard. "After all, we've got him talking now, and he at least understands the gist of these questions...but I agree with Healer Quinn; we certainly need to keep him here overnight." He pointed his wand at a nearby cabinet, which opened to reveal a collection of folded bedclothes. "Healer Pike should be by with dinner in half an hour; he'll be able to help with anything else that you need."

He left. Ginny sighed, going to the cabinet to collect some pajamas. "I guess we might as well get Al settled in, then."

"Here, Al, get up. I'll help you get changed," Harry said.

James looked up meekly. "If you want, I could help—"

"You've done enough," Harry said dryly as he drew the curtain around Albus' bed.

James looked down at his shoes, feeling miserable. His parents continued to talk through the curtain.

"So what do we do? At least one of us needs to stay with Al, but Lily..."

"I'm sure your mum won't mind keeping her—no, Al, we're putting this on now—overnight," Harry said. "I could just pop James over and—"

"I want to say," James said quickly.

Ginny looked at him, and James could somehow also feel his father's gaze through the curtain. "Why?"

He felt his face turn red. "To...help with Al, or whatever," he mumbled, looking away.

Ginny's expression was unreadable, but when Harry pulled back the curtain there was a definite look of suspicion in his eye.

About half an hour later Harry left to check up on Lily. Meanwhile, Albus tried to eat dinner, which began with him putting his roll in his pumpkin juice.

"Do you want me to help?" James asked nervously as Ginny cut Albus' food for him.

He gave a little sigh. "If you really want to help, why don't you go upstairs and buy us something to eat?" She put down Albus' silverware and dug some money out of her pocket. "The tearoom's one floor above us. Just get two or three sandwiches for each of us—I'm not sure what they have, but anything would be—oh, Al."

He had picked up his fork and was using it to try and cut up the soggy roll.

James left the ward with his head down, feeling as though a great weight was pressing down on his shoulders.

The hospital tearoom was crowded for dinnertime; most of the people eating looked like visitors, though there were a few who were clearly patients, given their glowing skin or extra body parts. The queue was so long that James decided to wander around until it thinned a bit. He slouched into the gift shop, which was comparably empty. The walls were covered with toys, sweets and flowers.

He found an aisle without any people and sat down, pulling his knees up to his chin. He stayed there for a long moment, trying not to think about Albus, or his parents, or how mad they were, or...he shook his head. The Healers say he's going to be alright, he reminded himself, but somehow that didn't make him feel much better. As much as James liked messing with Al, he knew that anything that required a hospital visit was a serious screw-up on his part.

His stomach growled, and he looked up, wondering if the line in the tearoom had gone down yet. He eyed the fudge on the shelves around him hungrily. He had some of his own money with him...but then, he knew that going back to the ward and gorging on sweets would only incense his parents further. And it's not like you deserve it right now, some dim part of his subconscious was forced to admit.

He reached into his pocket and weighed his money pensively in his palm. On the other hand...

"There we go," the Healer said, as Albus finally downed the last of the foul-tasting Mental Mixture.

"That's a good boy, Al," Ginny said, ruffling his hair.

Albus nodded vaguely, staring down at his lap, then looked up at her again. "Where am I?"

"St. Mungo's, sweetheart. Remember?"

Albus just looked confused as the Healer made a note on his clipboard and walked away. It was at that moment that James returned, his arms filled with sandwiches.

"Sorry it took so long," he murmured, settling them down awkwardly on the table besides Albus' bed. "The tearoom was really crowded. I didn't know what to get, so I just bought a lot of turkey."

"That's fine, dear," Ginny said wearily, as Albus began to fiddle absentmindedly with his spoon from dinner.

James suddenly looked awkward, hunching his shoulders as he dug into his pocket. "Hey, Al? Al?" Al blinked and looked up from his spoon. "I bought some Chocolate Frogs. Do you want one?"

Albus stared. "Ribbit ribbit?"

"Uh, yeah." James was distinctly reminded of talking to one of his toddler cousins, but he pressed on. "But these are Chocolate Frogs. See?" He unwrapped one and broke its head off, handing it to Albus. "Do you...remember chocolate?"

Albus didn't answer, but stuck the Chocolate Frog's head in his mouth. The blank expression that he had been wearing for most of the afternoon shifted to a grin of deep pleasure. James gave a hopeful smile, then began to break the frog into more pieces.

"And don't forget the card inside! Let's see, who do you have...ah! Hey, Al? Do you know who this is?"

Albus' forehead wrinkled; it took him a long moment before he could answer. "Quidditch?" he said simply.

"Yeah, it's a Quidditch player," James said, trying to be patient. "Eunice Murray. Remember? She's...one of your favorites?"

It was obvious from Albus' expression that he didn't remember, and he frowned, scratching the back of his neck; James' shoulders slumped. Ginny, watching all this, came forward and gently took the card from James, moving it closer to Albus' face.

"Al, look over here." He did. "What colors are she wearing?"

"Black...and white," Albus said carefully.

"And do you remember what team wears black and white? They're your favorite team. Can you tell me their name?"

"Favorite? Uh..." Albus closed his eyes. "Black, white...Quidditch..."

"Go on," she prodded."You can do it."

"The...Magpies?"

"That's right!" James said, with a relieved grin.

"Very good, Al! Your favorite Quidditch team are the Magpies, and they wear black and white."

"Yeah!" Albus took the card from her, and all of a sudden he was gazing at it with excitement. "Favorite Quidditch team...is the Magpies...and black and white!"

He grinned sheepishly, and began to eat the remaining pieces of the Chocolate Frog. James hastily began to unwrap another.

"Okay, let's try another one. Okay, here is...oh. I hope you can remember this guy."

He handed Albus the new card. Albus blinked. "Dad!" he said brightly.

"Good! But hopefully this next one will be harder..."

As James unwrapped the third Frog, Ginny put one arm around his shoulder; he looked up, saw her faint smile, and looked away, feeling sheepish.

Hospital chairs did not make very comfortable beds. It took James about half an hour to fall asleep, and a few hours after that he suddenly jerked awake, having almost slipped off onto the floor. He sat back up and blinked blearily, momentarily forgetting where he was.

"You alright, son?"

He turned. His father was sitting in the next chair, still awake but looking distinctly worn-down. His mum was sleeping on his other side, as was Albus in his bed.

"Uh, yeah," James said, rubbing his eye with his fist. "When did you get back? I thought you were—"

He suddenly noticed that Harry was holding Albus' Chocolate Frog Cards. Harry followed his son's gaze, then met his eye again.

"Your sister was already all settled in with your grandparents, so I decided not to take her home," Harry said quietly. "Rose and Hugo are going to be staying over to keep her company. The whole family wanted to come see if Al was alright, but I convinced them there wasn't much point, if he'll just be getting out tomorrow."

"Oh."

A moment passed. Harry held up the cards. "Your mum told me you bought these for Al?"

James felt his face heat up. "Yeah. I just...wanted to do something for him."

"That was decent of you."

There was another long pause. James could feel the tension in the air, and he didn't like it.

"Dad...I know you're mad, but—"

"Your damn right I'm mad," Harry said; he didn't yell, but his voice had lost even a hint of friendliness. "You'll find I get angry at anyone who sends one of my children to the hospital."

"I wasn't trying to hurt him!"

"Well, what were you trying to do, James?! Merlin's pants! You could have seriously injured your brother, left him addled for life, and for what? What exactly were you planning to do if the spell hadn't left him too dopey to walk in a straight line?!"

James looked away. Somehow he didn't think "convince him to run around the neighborhood in his skivvies" was going to win him any points in this debate.

"I'm really sorry, okay?"

His voice was so raw and shaky that Harry couldn't help but feel his temper die down a bit. He looked away from James, his eyes settling on the cards still held in his hand.

"It's not me you need to apologize to," he muttered. "I hope you realize that Al will have every right to be mad at you when he finally comes around to what's happened to him."

James didn't answer; he hadn't thought about anything like that. He generally didn't put much stock into Albus' opinions about...well, anything, but imagining his reaction to this situation suddenly made him feel even worse.

Father and son were now pointedly looking in different directions, but Harry turned and tapped James on the shoulder. When James looked up, Harry forced his face into a soft smile.

"Then again...it's clear to your mother and I that you want to make up for it. And I'm sure that Al will notice that too."

He set the cards back on Albus' bedside table.

James squirmed in his seat. "He probably won't even remember that by tomorrow," he muttered. "But I promise I'll do anything I can to help him until he gets better."

Harry was about to say something when, to their surprise, Albus suddenly sat up. Harry half-rose from his chair.

"Al? You alright, son?"

"Dad?" Albus focused on him, then looked around, confused. "Where am I?"

"St. Mungo's, son. Don't you remember?"

"...No." Albus looked troubled. "I need...er...I need..."

James stood up. "What do you need, Al? Water?" He motioned to the pitcher on the bedside table. "Food?"

"...Toilet. I need...to go...to the toilet."

James blinked. Harry smirked.

"Well, James, you were looking for more opportunities to help him, right?"

"Yeah," James said cautiously, "but how much help do you think he'll need with this?"

When Albus woke up the next morning, he had a strange out-of-place feeling that he couldn't quite put his finger on. That confusion only increased when he opened his eyes and noticed James sleeping in the chair beside his bed.

He sat up, then paused, as that simple action left him feeling unusually dizzy. Then he reached over and shook his brother on the shoulder. "James?"

James eyes fluttered open, but then he quickly straightened up. "Al! Good morning. How are you feeling?"

Albus paused, not entirely sure of the answer himself. He shook his head. "Where are we?"

James let out a tiny sigh, his lips giving the faintest hint of a smile. "St. Mungo's. Don't you remember? We..." He suddenly noticed that the chairs beside him were empty. "Where are Mum and Dad?"

As if on cue, somebody pulled the curtain back from around Albus' bed, and the boys looked up so see their mother and Healer Singh. "Oh, you're awake," she said, coming over and taking Albus' face in her hands. "How are you feeling?"

"Fine, I guess."

"Good morning, son," said the Healer, taking the chair beside James. "I'm Healer Singh; we met for a bit yesterday. Do you remember anything about yesterday?"

"...No. I mean—" Albus bit his lip; without thinking, James did the same. "I...sort of remember coming here, but...it's all kind of a blur. What happened?"

He looked anxiously from one face to another, and Ginny saw James stiffen nervously. She gave Albus a kind smile. "We'll explain later, dear. But you're going to be fine, alright? Healer Singh just needs to ask you a few questions."

"Like what?"

"Can you tell me your name?" Healer Singh asked.

"Uh, Albus. Severus Potter," he added, not sure if that was important.

"And can you tell me your birthday?"

"February...er, February..." He closed his eyes, moving his lips to count five, six, seven... "Eight! February eighth! Right?" He looked to his mother for confirmation.

"That's right! Very good, Al."

"Yeah!" said James, with a slightly manic, but nervous grin. "You're doing a lot better today!"

"...What do you mean? How was I yesterday?"

At that moment, Harry strode into the ward. "Hey, look who's awake!" he said, ruffling his son's hair. "How are you feeling, Al?"

"Kind of...dozy, actually. I'm—why am I in the hospital, again?"

Healer Singh was writing on his clipboard. "He's still not 100%, but at this rate we'll probably he ready to release him by this afternoon," he said. "I'll be by in about an hour to see how he's doing. Breakfast should be by shortly; make sure he drinks his Mental Mixture right after."

"We will, thank you."

He strode off to go talk to one of the ward's other patients. Harry and Ginny took their empty seats beside James.

"So, what exactly do you remember from yesterday?" Harry asked.

Albus tried to call up some memories. "I remember...coming here, I guess, but it all feels more like something I dreamed. I remember being really confused. Even more than I am now. And..." His eyes wandered to the bedside table, and to James surprise he picked up the Chocolate Frog Cards. He frowned at them for a moment, then turned to his brother. "Did you buy me these?"

James went pink. "Uh, yeah. I did." He gave a nervous smile. "Hey, remember that game we played with them?" He took them from Al, shuffling through them. "Can you tell me who's on each one?"

"Well, that one's Dad, obviously. And that's—" Albus froze. "Er...I know her. She's, like, the best Seeker ever...her name's on the tip of my tongue..."

Harry and Ginny exchanged a look. Ginny leaned forward. "Eunice..."

"Eunice Murray!"

"Yeah, that's right! And what team does she play on?"

"Duh, the Magpy Montro—I mean...the Montrose Magpies."

Albus looked slightly perturbed, but James had the biggest grin on his face. "That's right! And who's this?"

"Um..."

Their parents watched the two brothers with expressions of great fondness, though after a moment Harry leaned over to his wife and muttered, "We're still not giving him his broom back for six weeks, right?"

Albus had finally managed to say "Morgana," and James practically leapt to his feet with excitement. Ginny watched with a little smirk.

"If he keeps this attitude up, we could bump it down to a month for good behavior."