"You've got to be joking."
Madame Pomfrey set her lips in a tight line and looked disapprovingly at Harry. "I assure you, young man, that I am not. It is a rather uncommon symptom, but it is real."
The ailing wizard still had a disbelieving look on his face. "But I remember…you're telling me…you actually expect me to believe that everyone I KNOW to be my enemy is actually my friend and that all my friends are actually some of my worst enemies?" His voice grew to an angry pitch. "Excuse me for being rude, but what reason do I have to actually believe you? Since admittedly, I do not currently count you in my circle of friends."
The Medi-witch sighed and pinched the bridge of her nose. They had been arguing in circles off and on for over an hour. She was trying to convince the sick boy that his current chosen set of friends were actually mostly out to kill him, and that all those he currently considered enemies were trying their best to keep him alive. It was difficult. "Fírinne Nua" as it was termed was a rare side effect of certain wizarding diseases, generally affecting males, ages 12-22. It took a firmly held belief of the individual and turned it inside out.
If, for example, a person previously hated peaches: while afflicted they would love to eat nothing else. It even tricked the brain into implanting false images of compatible memories-the individual would remember loving peaches their whole lives.
Harry Potter's Fírinne Nua had taken his concept of friends and twisted it. Luckily, Pomfrey had dealt with a case once before in her career and was able to identify it quickly. It wasn't hard in this particular instance, since it manifested itself rather violently as Harry insisted that Ron and Hermione were trying to poison him with their get well gifts and then started asking if Draco Malfoy had stopped by yet.
There was little she could do except wait until the antidote was brewed…and in the meantime, try to keep her charge from leaving the infirmary and walking straight into the devils den. The issue of…Riddle…had not come up yet, and Pomfrey most certainly did NOT want to be the one who broached it. If Harry started thinking he was chums with that thing and saying so out loud…something in the universe might break. It just wasn't supposed to be.
In the end, the only person everyone could agree on was Severus Snape, and he was needed to brew the antidote that would bring Harry back to his proper senses, and Harry could not leave the infirmary with his current fever. At least not on Madame Pomrey's watch, at any rate.
It was still frustrating though, listening to the child insist that it had been Draco who held Lockhart at wand point with Harry while 'trying to rescue Daphne'. From what wasn't quite clear. Pomfrey wasn't sure how he thought third year must have gone. It must be truly interesting inside his head right now, she mused.
She had been forced to magically 'tie' him to the bed after several close calls. Some things never changed, at least. She felt sad knowing how upset Harry would be remembering how he hurt his friends once he regained his right mind. Should she also be worried that he currently spoke glowing praises of his Aunt, Uncle, and Cousin?
No, I do NOT own Harry Potter or anything related.
Just a plot bunny I had late one night. I typed it up, and for a while thought that I might turn it into a story. No such luck, I just can't quite do it. So here it is, in all it's oneshot glory. But hey, if you want to adopt the bunny (his name is Alec) then feel free. Just let me know so I can see my baby all grown up*sob*.
Reviews are welcome, but flames make the plot bunnies angry. And we don't want angry, attacking plot bunnies, now do we? (Cue Monty Python clips).