Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter, and I never will.
Thanks to the people who reviewed. I hope you like this chapter, too!
Harry-
Are you sure it's not serious? I've never heard of such a illness. At first I thought it could be Belladonna Syndrome, but that only results from exposure from a Dragon poisoned with Belladonna that has recently mated, and I figured that there was no way you were experiencing that. You have to tell Dumbledore if it happens again, Harry. You probably should tell him now. There's no reason to go through pain when Madame Pomfrey can most likely fix it in a jiffy!
Any way, I hope you like my present. The book has good advice, Harry. Have a good summer, and stay out of trouble!
-Hermione
Clutching the letter in his hands, Harry groaned when another spasm of pain went through his arms. Throughout the day, his arms were constantly in agony. And now that Hermione admitted that even she- Bookworm to the extreme- didn't know what it was, Harry was scared. What if it was a very rare disease that would kill him? What if it sucked out his magic or something, and he had to live with the Dursleys' until he was an adult?!
Even though Harry knew he should owl Dumbledore, he hesitated. Vernon had backhanded Harry this morning when he dropped a glass, and it left a bruise on the right side of his face. If Dumbledore saw, questions would be asked. Even though there was no lost love between Harry and the Dursleys, he did not want to be taken from them, for fear of going to an orphanage.
Harry didn't believe much of what the Dursleys said, but the one thing that they said that stuck was, 'If it wasn't for us, you would of gone to an orphanage. We treat you like saints compared to what you would have to live through there.'
Horror stories they told him, about how the older kids whipped the children if they talked too loudly, about how they only got food once a week, and how no one would ever adopt him.
Harry knew that it couldn't be that bad, but he un-rationally had a fear of orphanages, and he never wanted to be sent to one. If that meant having to live through abuse, then so be it.
His arms started to shake, and Harry cursed under his breath. It was only nine o-clock, and he had to do all his chores before Vernon got home. With his arms in the state they were, there was no way he could possibly accomplish doing them.
If he didn't do his chores, Vernon would be angry. If Vernon was angry, Harry's back would meet the belt once more. Harry flinched at the thought. He didn't need more pain added on to what he was already dealing with! The emerald green eyed boy huffed at his choices. So he could go to Dumbledore and spare himself pain for now, but eventually get sent to an orphanage, or he could stay here, and be beat by his uncle and possibly die or get seriously sick from this mysterious torture.
Or… was there a third option?
A plan was quickly forming in Harry's mind. What if… he didn't stay at Privet Drive, but didn't go to Hogwarts? Diagon Alley had a Apothecary, didn't it? He could buy some pain-relieving potion there, and then stay at the Leaky Cauldron until term started.
Grabbing his trunk and letting Hedwig out with a command of 'find me in Diagon Alley', Harry ran downstairs to where Dudley and his Aunt Petunia sat at the table, eating a late brunch.
"Aunt Petunia?" Harry said, getting her attention.
Sneering, his aunt looked up at him. "What is it, boy? Shouldn't you get at your chores?"
"Aunt, I'm going to be leaving early this summer. Bye." Before his Aunt could reply, Harry speeded out of the house, dragging his trunk behind him.
Outside, Harry had to reflect if this was the smartest action. Naturally, he had no idea how to get to London from Privet Drive walking, and he had no muggle money to buy a subway or train ticket to London. Nonetheless, Harry continued down the street, trying to ignore the constant trembling of his arms.
Out of the corner of his eye, a movement caught Harry's attention. Grabbing his wand from his pocket, Harry turned to the bushes, where he saw rustling. Don't panic. It's probably nothing. It's not a threat. Harry stepped forward, ready to fight if needed.
A dog.
A big black dog.
Harry laughed. He was worried about nothing. Kneeling down to the dog, Harry grinned at it's delighted expression.
"Hello, old fellow." Rustling up the dog's fur, Harry let himself relax from the panic he had been in from yesterday. He was not going to die. He might of fallen in a small situation, but he would make the best of it.
"You look hungry, don't you? Are you a stray?" Talking to the dog while he pet it was calming, Harry decided. "I'm starving too. I slept through breakfast, and last night I didn't get dinner cause I forgot to sweep the hallway. Actually, I don't think I had lunch yesterday either…" The dog growled at this statement, causing Harry to flinch. "Hey, calm down buddy."
The dog emitted a low whine, and butted his muzzle against Harry's hand. "Oh, you're sorry then?" Harry beamed, and continued. "You don't really have to be. I don't think you were mad at me, right?"
The dog let out a bark, and Harry took it as a 'Right!' Harry looked at the dog's brilliant blue eyes and paused. It's eyes were very… Intelligent. Almost human like. Harry frowned at this, but ignored the stray thought, reminding himself that it was only a dog.
His arms were getting worse, Harry noticed. Liquid pain pulsed upwards and downwards, making Harry bite down on his lip to prevent a whimper from escaping him. Letting his arms fall from petting the mutt, Harry gripped the ground, trying to prevent the throbs from becoming too violent.
Startled, the canine nuzzled Harry, trying to find out what was wrong. Harry gasped, having trouble breathing since the burning had returned to his lungs.
"I'm….ok…." Harry lied to the dog. Still in pain, Harry clumsily stood, determined to not waste any more time to get to the pain-relieving potion. Faint from his torment, Harry tripped over his trunk, falling to his knees, arm outstretched, with wand in hand-
-And in the street appeared a triple-decker purple bus, gold lettering reading 'The Knight Bus'.
Even though in extreme pain, Harry still could shockingly exclaim, "Bloody Hell!"
The door slid opened, revealing a conductor clad in purple. "Welcome to the Knight Bus, emergency transport for the stranded witch or wizard. Just stick out your-" The conductor paused in shock when he spotted Harry, sweating and shaking on the ground. "Are 'choo okay?" He asked worryingly, peering down at the teenager.
Harry exhaled in relief at the bus. He had found a way to London! The convulsing fire in his lungs had lessened, and he could hiss out a "just fine" to the conductor.
"Err…" The expression on the young man's face clearly stated that the last thing Harry looked like was 'just fine'. "Well… 'hen. I'm Stan Shunpike, and I'll be your conductor…" Stan frowned in concern when Harry struggled to stand up. Stan seemed to make a decision, grabbing Harry's hand and pulling him up. "'Choo go and take a seat. I'll get your 'runk. Don' worry 'bout the fee."
Harry, surprised at the man's kindness, didn't make a move to go sit down even after Stan let him go, and only got on the bus after Stan made a little shooing motion with his hand, while he was picking up Harry's trunk. Before stepping through the door, Harry looked outside to see if the stray was still there. Somewhat disappointed that it wasn't, Harry entered the Knight Bus.
Harry made his way to the first bed up front, and flopped down on it. His arms were only aching now, and his lungs had stopped burning almost completely. Feeling slightly guilty for having Stan get his trunk when he was now almost fine, he moved his arms to get some money from his pocket, and cried out when the slightest movement from them increased the dull ache to an agonizing torment for a few moments, until they calmed once more.
Harry hoped that his scar was covered, for there was no way he could move his arms to flatten his hair.
Stan dragged Harry's trunk next to the boy's bed, and looked down at him. "Right then. Where to?"
Harry smiled at Stan, and answered, "London. Diagon Alley, more precisely."
Stan nodded his head, and stood across from Harry. Stan sent concerned glances at Harry every once and a while, but refrained from speaking to him, as he was worried that it would send Harry into a seizure.
The bus stopped suddenly, and Harry would be flung across the aisle, if it wasn't for Stan grabbing Harry's shoulders and preventing him from falling.
"'Ere's your stop." Stan told him, letting his arms fall to the side. "Be 'areful, Kid."
Diagon Alley was as crowded as ever, Harry observed, slowly walking down the long street. Walking past the Ice Cream Parlor, Harry cringed when he realized if anyone saw him, and recognized him, he would be sent back to the Dursleys, or to Hogwarts.
Better not go to shops that Hogwarts students might be in. Just go to the Apothecary, then The Leaky Cauldron.
Avoiding colliding with a old hag with bright green hair, Harry maneuvered around the crowd, until he stood in front of the weather-worn shop, looking up at the small sign in the dusty window.
Diagon Alley Apothecary
For all your legal potion needs
Walking inside, Harry marveled at the shelves upon shelves of potion ingredients, and was content to stare at an odd looking pink fish that was frozen in one of the larger jars, until a coughing from behind the counter got his attention.
The man was odd-looking, Harry decided. Dark long brown hair fell in front of the man's face, hiding all of his features, except for half of the crooked smile he was sporting, and one of his light-green eyes, which was touched with a bit of madness.
"Ahhh… A bit early for Hogwarts' students, isn't it?" The man croaked to Harry, his smile growing.
Harry could not help but back away from the man, while he tried to fearlessly answer, "I'm not here for my supplies."
The man shrugged, as if he already knew that. "What is it then, boy?"
"I need… a pain-relieving potion." Harry told the man, from a safe distance away.
"Oh?" The man seemed curious. "That's easy enough to get for you. Except the most potent ones are in Knockturn Alley… they're made with unicorn blood, you see?" Before the man could start on a full blown potions lecture, Harry interrupted.
"I don't need one from Knockturn Alley." Harry said, not sure if he should admit his symptoms, and see what potion would be the best.
"Ah. Well… how much pain are you in, boy? Don' wanna overdose you, do we?" Leered the man, smiling at Harry's indecision on whether or not to tell him.
"My arms ache constantly, and every once and a while I go through a period when my lungs burn and I can't breathe easily, and my arms shake wildly after." Harry admitted, deciding that it was just a creepy old man, no reason to hide his weakness.
The man looked worried at the symptoms, Harry noticed, with his ever-present grin swiftly disappearing.
"It sounds like Belladonna Syndrome…" The man grumbled to Harry. "Been around a recently mated Dragon that was poisoned?"
Harry shook his head 'no'. The man sighed, and looked at Harry with a critical eye. "You don' wanna take pain-relieving potion for an unknown malady, boy. The crushed rattle-snake fangs may react badly with whatever's in your system…"
Harry grimaced in displeasure at the thought of having to live with the annoyance of his arms, and expressed that fact.
The man rubbed his chin thoughtfully, and replied, "Sore-Relief cream may help with the arms… And none of the ingredients are dangerous…" He left the counter, and entered a door behind him, which closed with a 'thwack'.
A few minutes later, the man returned, carrying a handful of potions, which he set down on the counter.
"'Yanya Blacktwitch Most Potent Sore-Relief', and 'Respiratory Bothers Cure' ought to help." He pointed at two of the potions he brought, one a dark black cream, and another a thin light blue liquid. "Also, I think you might of wanted this 'Bruise Removal Paste' for your jaw." He motioned at the 3rd item, a thick yellow paste.
Harry had forgotten about the bruise that was prominent across his right jaw, and was grateful to the man for fetching the remedy. "How much?" Harry asked, digging in his pockets to fetch his coin purse.
The bell over the door that signaled a customer had entered went off, but Harry did not take interest in looking for who it was, and rather listened to the man charge 3 galleons.
Handing over his money, Harry grabbed the potions, and made to leave the store, concentrating on keeping his balance and not letting the three potions fall from his arms, not looking up, thus not seeing the man he was about to run into.
Bumping in an obstacle, Harry looked up to apologize, and paled in silent dread.
"Taking an interest in healing potions, Mr. Potter?" In front of Harry was the last man he wanted to see right now.
Severus Snape.
AN: Yay, Snape!
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