AUTHOR'S NOTES: So I'm starting another round of story rewrites beginning with this story which is based on my fic, 'Deaf, Mute, and an Owl to Boot'.
I will also be working on 'Seven Deadly Strikes' and 'The Potter Family Curse' at some point.
There are going to be some major changes between this version and the original beginning with the fact that in this rewrite, the Dursleys-and Marge-are very nice people. Except Dudley. He's still a jerk. The next change is how Lily Potter is still alive which I won't give away now. The third concerns the plot thread of Harry having throat cancer. In the original story, this kinda just came out of nowhere because I was stuck and I threw the idea in so I could keep the story going. With the rewrite, this will be relevant to the story and will have a lot more details.
x
STORY SUMMARY: Harry Potter is no stranger to chronic illness, but things get a little easier when he finds out that his mother isn't dead.
HARRY POTTER: Silence Speaks Volumes
13-year-old Harry Potter groaned as he heard his aunt, Petunia Dursley knocking on the door. When her footsteps faded off, Harry threw back the blankets and looked up at the bottom of the upper bunk bed before raising his foot and kicking hard.
"I'm awake!" said the annoyed voice of Camille Dursley. A moment or two later, Camille descended the ladder, giving her cousin a smile as she handed him his glasses. Raising her hands and signing as she spoke, she asked, "Did you need any help?"
Harry shook his head as he stood up and headed for the bedroom door. 'I'm fine, Cam. Thanks, though. Tell Aunt Petunia I'll be downstairs in a minute.'
"You got it," Camille replied, grabbing her hearing aids off the desk and putting them in. She had lost her hearing after a nasty ear infection when she was 6 years old and while the hearing aids helped a little, she still couldn't hear properly.
On the other hand, Camille thought as she headed downstairs to breakfast, she was better off than her cousin, Harry.
Harry had been prone to throat infections ever since he was 2 years old and the constant inflammations and coughing had done irreparable damage, causing scarring on his vocal cords, leading to a permanent loss of voice.
As if that hadn't been enough, Harry had started having problems breathing at the start of the summer and as the Dursleys' family doctor hadn't yet pinpointed a cause, Dr. Walsh had opted to install a tracheostomy tube directly into Harry's windpipe.
It was only Harry's 3rd week with the tube, but he'd watched the nurses teaching his aunt and uncle how to care for the tube—cleaning and so forth—and quickly picked up the procedures.
Jerked from her reflections by someone knocking her down, Camille let out a cry of pain as she fell to the floor, looking up at her brother who laughed cruelly as he went into the dining room.
Feeling someone help her up, Cam gave her mother a reassuring smile. "It's fine," she said, shortly. "An accident."
Petunia wasn't convinced but she never knew how to deal with the rivalry between her daughter and son.
When her nephew, Harry, had been left on her front door step when he was 15 months old, Petunia'd had fantasies of a big, happy family with Vernon, Camille, Dudley, and Harry. But with Harry's throat problems and Camille going deaf, Dudley had been pushed aside—something that only seemed to make him angry and more resentful as time went on. Even with Camille and Harry having magical abilities, Dudley often bullied his cousin and sister, occasionally becoming violent towards them.
Hearing the stairs creak, Petunia looked up to see Harry coming downstairs and quickly said to Dudley, "Set the table, dear, would you?"
Dudley glared at Harry and then turned his attention to setting the table for breakfast, not saying a word to anyone.
"After breakfast, I need you to set up a camp bed in your room, Dudley," Vernon said, looking up from his newspaper. "I'm going to be picking Marge up at the train station and she'll be staying in your room for the duration of her visit."
"Why do I have to host Aunt Marge?" Dudley whined as he slumped down in his chair at the table, crossing his arms angrily.
"Because I said so," Vernon replied, frowning at his son. "Marge doesn't know about Harry being a wizard and your sister being a witch and I'd like to keep it that way."
Dudley glared at his sister and cousin and he snapped, "You freaky brats think you're so special! You'll pay for messing up my life!"
"That's enough!" Petunia shouted, angrily. "Dudley, after breakfast, you're to clean your room for Marge and set up the camp bed like your father told you to. Then I want you to help me clean up the rest of the house."
Breakfast was a quiet affair, although there was a definite tension in the air. When he'd finished eating, Dudley stormed upstairs, not even bothering to clear away his dirty dishes before he left the dining room.
'Aunt Petunia?' Harry said after he stood up from the table and carried his dishes to the sink. 'I'll clean up the kitchen if you want me to.'
Petunia shook her head. "You don't have to do that, Harry. I'll take care of it."
'I want to,' Harry insisted. But thinking of the trach tube and how much the nurses at the hospital had emphasized keeping his airway clear, he added, 'Give me about 10 minutes to check that everything's fine with the tube.'
Once Harry had gone upstairs, Vernon stood as well and grabbed his car keys and jacket before heading out the door.
Petunia began bustling about the living room and dining room, straightening everything she could. Harry was a good kid and part of Petunia hated that he always felt obligated to help with the chores around the house.
When Harry came back down and started cleaning up the kitchen with Camille's assistance, Petunia marveled at how quickly Harry had learned about the care and maintenance of his tracheostomy tube. But, honestly, she knew that once back at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, Harry would have to take care of everything himself without help, so he'd likely wanted to make sure he knew how to handle everything.
Still, the fact that the tube was necessary at all was deeply worrisome and the Dursleys had yet to hear back from Dr. Barton Walsh about the blood tests and scans of Harry's throat done last week when he'd been in for a follow-up visit after the trach tube was placed.
So far, the favorable choices as far as a cause of Harry's breathing problems were throat irritation and inflammation or some sort of benign growth pressing against his trachea. However, without the results of the blood tests, there was no way of knowing for certain and Petunia prayed that Harry didn't have cancer or some other sort of progressive illness.
Hearing Harry and Camille finish the dishes and head upstairs, Petunia waited until she heard the bedroom door close before going over to the phone and calling the doctor's office, waiting until she heard someone pick up on the other end of the phone line. "Dr. Walsh's office. How may I help you today?"
"Yes, this is Petunia Dursley. I wanted to know if there has been news on my nephew, Harry Potter's, test results…"
Waiting at the train station, Vernon Dursley checked his watch, waiting for his older sister to arrive.
Marge was a very stern woman, yet she could also be very kind and giving. She ran a rescue center for animals in West Sussex and was always taking in stray dogs and cats as well as some of the more exotic pets such as hedgehogs, birds of prey, and reptiles.
Thinking of Harry's owl, Hedwig, Vernon smirked as he thought of his sister's reaction to such a bird as a pet.
"There you are, Vernon!"
Pulled from his thoughts, Vernon saw Marge striding briskly towards him, another woman with her who looked oddly familiar somehow. "Good trip, Marge?" Vernon asked as they retrieved the luggage.
Marge looked at her companion and then said, quietly, "Perhaps we should talk in the car. This news may come as a bit of a shock."
Curious if the two women were in a romantic relationship, Vernon just nodded and led the way out to the car, wondering what sort of news was about to be sprung on him. But before he could get behind the wheel, Marge stopped him, taking the keys. "Trust me," she assured her brother. "This is not something you can listen to while driving."
Marge got behind the wheel and Vernon got in the passenger seat while the mystery woman took the backseat. Once they had pulled out of the parking lot, she took a deep breath and said, "I should start with my name, I suppose. Lily Potter."
Vernon quickly twisted around in his seat, staring at the woman in disbelief. "You're joking," he said, scoffing.
Lily shrugged and launched into the tale of what happened Halloween night 12 years ago, surprisingly not leaving anything out when it came to talking about magic.
Vernon was shocked that Marge knew about magic but as Lily talked about ending up in West Sussex with no memory—only knowing that her husband was deceased in some sort of attack and her child was missing—she explained that eventually she started working at Marge's animal rescue center.
"Eventually I felt I could confide in Marge that I was a witch," Lily went on. "And when I started to remember Petunia, Marge said that was her sister-in-law's name. She showed me pictures of Petunia and Harry and more memories started coming back." Morosely, she added, "I still don't know how I lost my memory or how I ended up in West Sussex, but I'm hoping to fill in some of the blanks after talking to Harry. I'm sure Dumbledore or someone else has told him about what happened that night."
Vernon was quiet for a while, but as they got closer to Privet Drive, he knew he had to prepare Lily for what she would find when they got to the house. "There's something you should know about Harry…" he began.
Lily leaned forward, not sure what could possibly be wrong with her son.
Petunia finished sprinkling a pair of fat roasting chickens with salt and pepper and slid the roasting pan into the oven, setting her kitchen timer after washing her hands. Turning to a sack of potatoes, she began chopping them and dropping the pieces into a large pot of water. Once cooked to tenderness, she would rice the potatoes, adding plenty of cream, butter, salt, pepper, and finely chopped chives.
As she chopped, Petunia tried not to think of the news she'd received from Dr. Walsh.
The scans of Harry's throat had indeed shown a mass of some type pressing against his windpipe.
Harry needed a biopsy to see if the mass was cancerous.
He would need surgery to remove the mass either way, but if it was cancer then it was possible that part of Harry's trachea would need to be removed—depending on how the cancer had spread.
If it was cancer, Dr. Walsh warned, Harry would also need scans of his lungs and diaphragm in case of metastasis.
Petunia had wanted to hear that this was all a very unlikely worst-case scenario but the doctor had been blunt about the facts. And so Petunia had scheduled Harry for an appointment the following morning for the biopsy, a feeling of dread starting to settle in the pit of her stomach.
Hearing someone coming down the stairs at the same time the front door opened, Petunia tried to focus on dinner as Harry went to greet Vernon and Marge. Putting the pot of chopped potatoes and water on the stove to cook, Petunia wiped her hands on her apron and headed into the sitting room, stopping dead when she saw who had come into the house.
Harry was frozen in place, not sure if he believed his eyes. Maybe he'd stopped breathing again and he was dying, his mother here to escort him into the afterlife.
But when Lily put a hand on his shoulder, Harry reacted instinctively and hugged his mother tightly, tears falling down his cheeks as he sobbed, silently.
While Lily and Harry had a tear-filled reunion, Petunia motioned Marge and Vernon into the kitchen and, signing so as not to be over heard, she told her husband and sister-in-law about Harry's appointment the next morning and Dr. Walsh's initial prognosis.
'But we don't know anything for certain,' Petunia emphasized, quickly.
'Oh, come off it, Petunia,' Merge replied, sharply, frowning as she did so. 'The chronic sore throats were one thing, but now Harry needs the trach tube… this is clearly not something benign. I know you care about Harry and you should prepare him for the worst.'
Trying to play mediator, Vernon glanced in the direction of the sitting room before looking at Marge and Petunia. 'We should wait until the biopsy results are in before jumping to any conclusions. We don't know that Harry's condition is anything serious so why needlessly worry the poor lad?'
But Marge was not about to give up her stance on the subject and pressed her point. 'And how are you going to break it to Harry if it turns out he does have cancer?'
"Harry has cancer?" Camille said aloud as she came into the kitchen immediately followed by Lily and Harry.
"Wait, how long have you known about this, Petunia?" Lily snapped, accusingly, at her sister, holding Harry close with one hand.
"Is Harry going to need surgery or chemotherapy?" Camille asked, worried, as she looked at her cousin.
"I mean, hearing about the tracheostomy was bad enough," Lily added, looking at Vernon with an accusing stare. "But you should have mentioned something about Harry having throat cancer!"
"We don't know anything for certain!" Petunia said, nearly shouting. Looking from Marge and Vernon to Lily, Harry, and Camille, she explained. "The scans of Harry's throat showed a mass pressing against his trachea, obstructing his airway. Harry has an appointment first thing in the morning for a biopsy."
'I need to sit down,' Harry said, feeling suddenly lightheaded. As he pulled out his chair and sat, he looked at Petunia and asked, 'I could really have cancer?'
Petunia hesitated for a second, but she nodded. "If you do," she promised, flicking a glance at Lily who looked about ready to start crying again. "—we'll do whatever it takes to help you beat it."
Harry nodded, words failing him.
x
Before dinner was ready, Vernon took Marge's things upstairs to Dudley's room while Harry showed off his owl, Hedwig, to Marge and showed his mother how the trach tube worked as well as cleaning it. Since Lily didn't know sign language, Marge translated for Harry. "'I have to check and make sure there's no food or anything stuck in there'," Marge said as Harry signed. "'If I don't, I can't breathe properly or mucus could get into my lungs and I could end up getting sick'."
Lily watched as Harry finished cleaning out his tube and hated the fact that she couldn't stop staring at the thing. "So… what happened, exactly?" Lily asked, as the trio started heading downstairs.
"Yes, I think I'd like to know as well," Marge added, looking at Harry.
Harry sat down at the kitchen table with his mother and aunt and after a moment to think of the best way to start the story, he began to explain what happened 3 weeks ago.
3 Weeks Ago…
Harry hadn't even been home from Hogwarts a week and already he could feel the discomfort in his throat. Sighing as he headed down the stairs, he knew he needed to tell his aunt and uncle. Of course, then he'd be dragged over to the doctor's office and given another round of antibiotics which would help clear things up until the next infection hit.
Pausing at the bottom of the stairs, Harry felt incredibly lightheaded and he although he was breathing hard, he felt like he wasn't getting enough air. Sitting down on the stairs to keep from passing out, he tried to swallow but even that was difficult.
"Out of my way, freak!" Dudley snapped as he shoved his way past his cousin and headed towards the kitchen table for breakfast.
Vernon looked over at the stairs where Harry was and instantly jumped to his feet, alarmed when he saw Harry nearly passed out on the steps. "Petunia, hurry!" Vernon shouted, grabbing his car keys and picking Harry up. "Harry's not breathing!"
"What?!" Petunia exclaimed, abandoning breakfast. When Dudley complained, loudly, she snapped, "Fix your own breakfast and tell Camille we took Harry to hospital!"
xxxx
Harry felt like he'd been run over by a truck when he awoke in a hospital room some time later.
On the one hand, he could breathe again… but at the same time, it felt weird as he took a breath.
Reaching up to rub his sore throat, Harry stopped, looking down when he felt some sort of tube protruding from his neck.
"Oh, thank heavens you're awake!" Petunia said as she bustled over to Harry, handing him his glasses. Seeing Harry point to the tube, she sat down on the edge of the bed and explained. "You couldn't breathe. That's why you passed out. The trauma doctor couldn't intubate you because your throat was swelling up… so she had to insert a tube directly into your trachea to help you breathe."
Harry didn't know what to say at first, but a question came to mind. 'Is this permanent?'
Petunia shrugged, putting a comforting hand on Harry's forearm. "I don't know, Harry. It might be, if the doctors can't figure out what's wrong with you."
'Does this have anything to do with my sore throat problems?' Harry asked, trying to think what could have caused his throat to become inflamed enough that he couldn't breathe.
"The doctors want to keep you for observation for a day or two," Petunia replied, repeating what she'd been told after Harry was admitted. "You'll have to take another course of antibiotics in case it is an infection but if the problem doesn't go away, we're to go to Dr. Walsh for blood tests and scans of your throat."
Reaching a hand up to touch the tube, Harry suddenly dreaded the end of the summer when he'd return to Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. It was bad enough being unable to speak but he'd have everyone staring at the tube in his throat and a constant stream of questions…
Leaning back against his pillows, Harry took a deep breath, wondering when life would start to cut him a break.
xxxxxxx
2 Weeks Later
Dr. Barton Walsh was very well liked by patients and parents alike. He, in turn, loked working with children and helping to keep them healthy.
That said, he wished he didn't see so much of Harry Potter. The poor boy was always trying to shake some sort of throat infection and almost 5 years ago, Walsh had had to give Harry the news that the chronic infections had caused permanent damage to his vocal cords.
When Harry came in with his aunt, Petunia Dursley, on a warm afternoon at the end of May, Walsh had, at first, thought that the young man was dealing with another nasty infection… until the doctor had noticed the tracheostomy tube.
Ushering Harry and Petunia into an examination room, Walsh donned gloves and did a cursory inspection of the tube before studying Harry's throat, inside and out. "You do seem to have some swelling," Walsh said, trained fingers gently probing Harry's neck and throat. Looking at the medical file, he noted that the initial diagnosis was swelling due to infection, but Walsh wasn't convinced.
"What do you think it is?" Petunia asked, translating for Harry who had signed the question nervously.
Walsh shrugged, uncertainly. "I'm not sure, exactly. It could be a viral infection which would explain why it isn't going away with antibiotics. It could also be some sort of growth, pressing against Harry's trachea."
'A tumor?' Harry said, looking even more worried. 'You mean… like cancer or something?'
When Petunia related the query, Walsh shrugged again. "That is a possibility. But don't start panicking yet. I'm going to draw a blood sample and then I want to send Harry over to the radiology department." When Harry looked puzzled, he explained. "I want some x-rays and an MRI of your neck. Between those scans and the blood work, maybe we can start figuring some things out."
Present Day…
Harry concluded the story, grateful that Aunt Marge had translated for his mother who seemed to be watching his hands as much as possible. 'Hopefully, everything will be fine and when I get back to Hogwarts I won't have this tube anymore.' Grinning, he added, 'After my doctor's appointment tomorrow, maybe we can—'
"Harry, honey, I can't understand—" Lily began as Harry signed something to her, looking happy about… something. When Harry paused and started to repeat whatever it was he'd said—his hand motions slower—Lily shook her head and said, "I don't know what you're saying."
Harry froze, hands in mid-sign and he looked down, realization hitting him like a ton of bricks. His mother didn't know sign language. If they did something together, he'd have to have someone with them to translate. Tears started welling up in his eyes and he stood, looking at Marge. 'Tell Aunt Petunia I'm not hungry.'
When Harry hurried out of the room and back upstairs, Lily turned to Marge, not sure of what had just happened. "Wh-what did I say?"
Marge knew that the reunion of mother and son wouldn't be an easy one, but in her eagerness to bring Lily back into Harry's life, she'd somehow managed to overlook the most important factor—that Harry couldn't speak and Lily didn't know sign language.
"Harry has had chronic sore throats since he was 2 years old," Marge explained, calmly. "The repeat infections caused scarring on his vocal cords and as a result, Harry hasn't been able to speak since he was 8."
Lily sighed as she understood why Harry was so upset. "That's why he's using sign language. I-I just thought it was because of the tube… Earlier, in the sitting room, I just went on about how much I loved him and missed him… how he looks like his father… And he never said a word… because he couldn't. Harry uses a completely different language a-and I have no idea what he's saying."
Marge nodded in confirmation but when Lily seemed to start moping even more, she put a hand on her friend's forearm. "But you'll learn."
Lily gave a nod in return and straightened up, not about to let a language barrier come between her and her son.
A/N: Next chapter, Harry gets some... 'sort of' good news, Lily learns to sign, and Dudley gets some really bad news.