When he awoke next it was to a dimly lit room with the feeling of an oh-so-soft bed beneath him. The oxygen mask was still there, pressing into his face uncomfortably as he allowed his head to slowly loll to the right. The room was small, and most definitely not the hospital he had expected to see. There was a bookshelf taking up the wall to the left of the door that was practically overflowing with books. Even more were sitting atop the seat of the wooden chair next to the bed he was laying in, pushed against the far wall to make room for a nightstand and another bookshelf to the right, this time filled with small trinkets and intricately designed objects. The light blue wall space between the furniture was plastered with amazing posters and artwork of creatures such as dragons and winged horses.
Where was he? With all the time he had spent in and out of the Hospital Wing his first year, he knew there was no way this was a muggle nor wizarding hospitable. He sat up quickly and quickly regretted it as his chest burned. He let out a strangled groan, trying and failing to keep quiet. It hurt to breathe again, but he pushed himself completely up and swung his legs over the side before pausing to take in burning breaths through the oxygen mask. After a few minutes with nobody coming in to investigate, he ripped off the oxygen mask and stood up. Immediately, he found himself struggling to hold back racking coughs as he took in a large, burning gulp of air. Winded, he fell to floor on his knees and coughed into his fist, chest rattling and wheezing to try to breathe the entire time.
There was a loud exclamation and scuffling coming from outside the room as somebody rushed to help the boy, mumbling expletives under his breath as he replaced the oxygen mask back onto his face before trying to coax him into taking slow breaths. When he deemed him to be calm enough to move back to the bed, he grabbed his bicep and pulled him up from the ground to lead him back to the bed. The young boy jerked out of his grasp and reached up to rip off the mask once again. He was already angling his body to make for the door, but was intercepted by the older man restraining his arms from behind. His arms now pulled behind him by the larger man's, he struggled and kicked, still weak from his coughing fit, his lungs once again burning from the exertion.
"Would you just calm down!? I'm only trying to help! Stay. Still." The man behind him seethed as a heel rammed into his shin before he completely lifted the boy off the ground, pulling him closer to himself to try to minimize the damage he can cause.
Harry stilled, wracking coughs coming behind the oxygen mask, and allowed himself to be picked up and placed on the bed. Immediately curling into a tight ball facing the wall as his chest repeatedly tightened and relaxed as cough after cough coursed through his body. He vaguely became aware of the door opening and another person coming in and having a whispered conversation with his assailant before he was forced to turn over and a potion was forced down his throat between the wracking coughs. The tightening of his chest subsided and everything hurt less, though the burning of his lungs still lingered. His breathing eased, and he gave a small sigh of relief before remembering his situation. He glanced up at the man who stood before him, an angry frown present on his face, and made to sit up again opening his mouth to speak only to croak out something indistinguishable from behind the mask. The frown deepened and somebody else that stood next to him gently placed their hands on his shoulders and pushed him back down.
"You just can't stay out of trouble, huh? You shouldn't be getting up; your lungs still aren't fully healed yet. You've only been resting for a day, if you keep overdoing it they might not fully heal at all. You got burned up pretty bad. So, for now I would suggest you lay down and stop trying to take that mask off, kid. Merlin help me, I will stick you to that bed or stun you if I have to," The man lectured, arms sternly crossed against his chest and an eyebrow raised, as if to dare him to try to sit back up.
Harry, deciding it would be futile to protest, finally decided to comply. He sunk back into his pillows slightly propped up and made a drinking motion with his hand. The man nodded, and turned to leave the room to get him some water. His eyes followed him as he walked out, taking note of the well-muscled arms clearly visible from the simple black T-shirt and the fiery red hair that sat an organized mess upon his head. As the door shut behind him, his eyes wandered to the other person in the room. Another man, who looked very much like the one who had just left, albeit with slightly longer hair. Brothers, he presumed. With their red hair and features, was it possible that they were Ron's family? It seemed like it to him, at least.
His gaze rose and locked with older man for a moment before he tore his gaze away, unsure how to feel about the situation. The elder studied his face for a few moments before he turned around and left the room, apparently satisfied with what he had seen. Not even a minute later the door opened again and the stern man he had first seen was walking back in with a glass of water. As he neared, he set it on the bedside table and let the young boy get himself into a sitting position before he reached over to grab the mask covering his face.
"Okay, when I take this off don't take in a deep breath or you'll go into another fit. Just take in a couple of small breaths first, okay? Breathe for a bit, then you can try a couple sips of water. Understood?"
It seemed to be less of a question and more of a demand, but he nodded nonetheless. As the mask was taken off, he took in a few shallow breaths. After a few minutes of focusing on breathing, he was handed a glass of water and took a few small sips before trying to speak.
"Where am I? Who…?" He asked, his voice weak and breathy sounding, breaking off as he tried to control his breathing.
"You're at my parent's house right now. My name is Charlie, the man you saw earlier was my older brother Bill. You're a friend of Ron's, right? How are you feeling?"
Harry groaned, of course it was Ron's family that he had to make a fool of himself in front of. Charlie probably hates him now, with all the hassle he's been so far. He sunk back into his pillows, keeping his gaze away from Charlie's as he focused on breathing in and out for a moment.
"M'sry," he mumbled, feeling like a complete and utter idiot in front of his best mate's older family.
Charlie raised an eyebrow, curious as to what the kid was obviously beating himself up over.
"What was that, Harry?" He asked, cocking his head slightly to the side as he tried to catch the young boy's gaze.
"I said, I'm sorry," Harry said in a slightly louder mumble, hoping to not anger the man. He kept his gaze away, locking it on a drawing by the bed instead, as if to pretend he was studying it.
"Whatever for?" Charlie asked, allowing his slight confusion to seep into his question. It was obvious that Harry was beating himself up over something, and he was intent on finding out what. Especially if it had something to do with why he suddenly apparated into the Burrow's living room last night, unconscious and barely breathing.
"For fighting you… and probably making you hate me now." His gaze flickered up and back down quickly, unsure of the reaction to expect.
"Look at me." He said sternly, and Harry sunk back thinking the red-head was angry with him. He looked up though, and his gaze locked with Charlie's. Expecting anger and hatred, he was surprised to only see comfort and kindness lying behind the blue embers. Still, he had trouble holding his gaze. Flickering his eyes to the drawing of a dragon and back again repeatedly before finally settling on Charlie.
"I understand why you struggled when I tried to help you. You were confused and disoriented, not to mention in pain. It was completely understandable, and while I'm not too happy with the heel that was slammed into my shin, I am not angry with you for it. Understood?"
Once again, it seemed more of a demand for him to accept what Charlie said than to give Harry the option to question it. He nodded his head again, his gaze now locked back onto the dragon artwork. Scales as red as the Weasley clan's hair color, breathing blue flames that seem to immerse the detailed sketch in light. Going so far as to reflect in the dragon's dark irises. Did Charlie or Bill draw this, he wondered. It was beautiful, and he was captivated by every little detail. He hadn't noticed when Charlie had left. Though his head jerked up as the door loudly burst open and a familiar face came in. His eyes widened momentarily before his mouth split into a huge grin.
"Ron!" He exclaimed, promptly breaking into another fit of coughs as the burning pain returned. Ron's eyes widened and he rushed in the room to go help Harry, but this time the coughing subsided as quickly as it had started. Leaving him winded and wheezing, but still standing.
"Merlin, mate. You sound like death itself." He stated blandly, not entirely sure what to do. He didn't have to think much, though. Bill had appeared behind him, plopping his hand down firmly onto Ron's shoulder. Ron, knowing he was in for a telling off, winced and turned to face his eldest brother.
"Little brother," Bill started sternly. "I believe you were told Harry needed rest, and not to bother him tonight?"
The younger boy shuffled his feet and nodded, mumbling an apology and briefly turning to give Harry an apologetic look before taking off down the stairs. Harry looked up as Bill walked in and waved his wand over him a couple of times in what appeared to be diagnostic tests. After glancing at the parchment showing his scan results, Bill turned back to Harry.
"I'm afraid Madame Pomfrey isn't usually reachable over the summer, otherwise she would be the one looking after you. As it is, we decided you were safer here than at Saint Mungo's. But if you keep overdoing yourself, we may not have a choice but to send you there. If you just lay in bed and rest for another couple hours, your lungs should be healed enough for you to go about as normal. So, if I catch you out of bed or doing something I've told you not to, I will let Charlie stun you just to make sure you stay there like he's threatened. Am I clear on that, Harry?"
"Sure." Harry replied, slightly annoyed at his friend's brother. Bill narrowed his eyes before sighing and turning to leave, feeling slightly guilty for lecturing and threatening his youngest brother's friend. After all, what right did he have to do such a thing?
"It's four o'clock right now, dinner isn't until seven. I left some potions on the nightstand, one is a nutritional supplement that should hold you over until dinner, the other is a slight pain reliever. You can take both now if you wish. You can get out of bed at 6, no earlier. Your lungs should be able to manage some very mild exercise for now, but that's it. I'll leave you to rest. See you at dinner, kid."
Harry internally seethed at being treated like such. He was tired of being controlled and told what to do every hour of the day. It had been his life ever since he could remember. He could make his own decisions and take care of himself, and he'd prove it to them. Now was his chance. He waited a few minutes to ensure he wasn't coming back, before sitting up and downing both potions in quick succession. That done, and the pain quickly subsiding from his chest, he looked at his legs hanging off the bed. He was dressed in what had to have been a pair of Ron's pajamas. He had no clothes anymore.
Suddenly, things seemed to be bleak. Could he really take care of himself? He was a scrawny twelve-year-old dressed in a pair of Chudley Cannons pajamas without his wand or anything remotely useful to help him get out. He could barely speak without sudden coughing fits, not to mention breathe. How would he get out of here?
A sharp rapping at the window beside the nightstand made his head jerk up, and he smiled as he saw Hedwig perched on the sill. He stood up to rush over to her, only to find his feet stuck to the floor, which was now flashing yellow. He clenched his fists, immediately knowing what this was. They had booby trapped the room to let them know if he got out of bed before he was allowed. It was as if they were trying to control every aspect of his life, it wasn't fair! He barely knew them, they have no right to control him like this. His breathing was starting to get heavier as he slowly lost control of his temper, and he could feel the coughing about to come on, so he forced himself to control his breathing. Just when he was calm enough to put the coughing at bay, he heard raised voices coming down the hall.
"C'mon Charlie, you need to calm down or…" one of them began, only to be interrupted by Charlie's rage.
"Or what Bill!? If he keeps this up, he's going to collapse a lung! He's going to injure himself because he's too reckless to listen to adults and has no self-preservation! Somebody has to teach him that!" The door flew open and his gaze caught Harry. Charlie's face was red and he was obviously angry. Harry momentarily found himself wishing he could shrink away from the fierce glare being sent his way. Then he reminded himself that he wasn't just a kid, he could take care of himself without the help. He gulped and coughed slightly, then took an unsteady breath, ready for the onslaught and prepared to argue and fight his way through to get Charlie to see reason.
