Disclaimer: I claim no ownership to the Harry Potter series or it's characters. This is purely for fun, and I am making no money from this story.
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Enjoy!
Chapter Two
Looking up to meet his former professor's eye, expecting that even she would see the intended humour in his comment, Harry was surprised to see Minerva's eyes widening in fear.
But Harry never got the chance to ask her what was so worrisome, vaguely Harry became aware of the distinctive coppery taste of blood dripping down the back of his throat, and McGonagall calling for help. The world around him seemed to be spinning, and then Harry could feel himself falling.
Someone in the crowd was screaming, that was the last thing Harry could sense before the darkness consumed him completely.
Unaware of the unfolding drama at the reception in the garden, Ginny Weasley was in the house, assisting her mother in beginning the massive clean up task - though the party hadn't even finished yet.
Then her two eldest brothers came into the house, carrying a bloodied and unconscious Harry between them, with McGonagall following close at their heels, and in an instant Ginny's cheerful mood evaporated, her life forever changed. She ran to her fiancé's side, as Bill and Charlie lay Harry on the couch. Fleur - balancing her infant daughter on her hip - was already on a floo call to St Mungo's emergency healing team.
"He's covered in blood. What the hell happened? Bill? Charlie? What happened to him? Was there an attack?" Ginny asked worriedly, dropping to her knees beside the couch. Out of habit she began rhythmically brushing Harry's ebony hair away from his face, watching over him intently.
"We don't know really, that's why I asked Fleur to call St Mungo's," Bill explained to his sister, trying to seem calm, but as the sound of Harry's rasping breaths filled the air, no one could feel at ease. "Professor McGonagall could only tell us that they had been talking, Harry had a nose bleed, and then went down."
Ginny then found herself being forced away from Harry's unconscious form by a small group of witches and wizards in lime green robes - healers.
A middle-aged witch, clearly the leader of the emergency response team, cast a standard diagnostic spell over Harry. As she studied the scroll of information which had shot from the tip of her wand, the healer's brow became furrowed.
This was a most unusual reading, particularly in an adult wizard.
"What is it? Tell me!" Ginny demanded, struggling against her father, who was holding her out of the healers' ways.
Another healer looked to Molly Weasley. "It might be best if you could all wait in another room. Healer DuPont will come speak with you when we've stabilised Mr Potter."
The majority of the assembled group headed silently to the kitchen, but Ginny wasn't going to abandon Harry.
"Come on Ginny, come in to the kitchen," Molly cajoled her daughter gently, but Ginny had her heels dug in.
"Like hell! I'm not leaving Harry."
Under normal circumstances Molly Weasley would have forced the issue, but she knew a lost battle when she saw one. So, accepting the defeat, Mrs Weasley moved to her daughter's side, taking a comforting hold of her hand. "Alright Ginny, but you need to let the healers work."
The mother and daughter watched in silence as the healers spent the next fifteen minutes casting spell after spell, and trying numerous potions, with no apparent change in Harry's condition. Finally, healer DuPont conjured several items which were unfamiliar to the Weasley women; a rubber tube with a small balloon at one end, a plastic syringe, and what looked like a couple of muggle tampons.
Healer DuPont turned to Ginny, explaining, "We aren't able to heal Mr Potter magically, I am going to try a technique that muggles use in these situations."
"What? Why?" Molly became slightly panicked at the mention of muggle medical treatment, while Ginny found herself drawn to the equipment, trying to understand how those things could help her unconscious fiancé.
"How does it work?"
"This?" Healer DuPont motioned to the conjured items, "We'll put this tube into the very back of Mr Potter's nose, then once we inflate the attached tube, that should put enough pressure on the source of this bleed to stop it. Then I'll need to put packing into his nose to manage any residual bleeding," Healer DuPont was already partway through the process, when she finished answering Ginny's question. The healer continued to speak to Ginny as she worked. "Once this is in place, I am going to ask you to portkey with Mr Potter to a muggle medical facility, St Luke the Evangelist Hospital in London. The portkey will take you to a room adjoining the office of a doctor we often send people in Harry's condition to, Henry Alonstone - he is a wizard, but he works at this muggle hospital. I will contact him before you leave, and he will be expecting you."
Ginny was shaken to hear confirmation that whatever had caused Harry to fall ill was not treatable by magical means; which naturally for the pureblood witch was a very intimidating thought. "I don't understand why he can't go to St Mungo's. Why didn't healing help him?"
"Dr Alonstone will be able to explain everything fully; I would, but Mr Potter is in a serious condition, and requires immediate treatment."
Now finished packing Harry's nose to stem the bleeding, Healer DuPont administered one more potion - a revival draught - to bring Harry back to consciousness, before taking an empty vial from her bag, and using it to form a portkey, which she handed to Ginny. "Once both you and Mr Potter are touching the portkey it will activate. I'll ask you just to wait one minute, until Mr Potter is awake, and I have contacted Dr Alonstone, please. You may sit with Mr Potter if you wish."
Hearing those words of permission, Ginny all but bolted to her fiancé's side.
Harry's eyelids were fluttering, he was starting to come around. Alarmed as she was by the sheer volume of blood all over the front of Harry's suit, and his face, Ginny took Harry's hand in hers, brown eyes meeting green.
"He'll be quite weak," Healer DuPont warned Ginny gently.
Ginny nodded slightly in acknowledgement, never breaking eye contact with Harry - who though more or less unable to do more than lie there, had woken up.
Harry knew he must have blacked out, as he could now feel that he was lying down, probably on a couch.
At least someone had thought to leave his glasses in place, so as he opened his eyes Harry could easily see his surroundings.
The room he recognised as the living room of The Burrow. Ginny was leaning over him, several unfamiliar healers standing nearby. The healers wore similarly grim expressions.
Harry focused his gaze on Ginny, ignoring the older wizards as much as possible. "Ginny, what's going on? Did something happen at the wedding? Were we attacked?" Harry was searching for the memory that would make sense of all this, but the last thing he remembered was talking with Professor McGonagall. "Are you alright?"
"I'm fine, Harry," Ginny replied, giving his hand a reassuring squeeze. "You collapsed at the reception. The healers from St Mungo's are here, they're taking good care of you."
"Good care...? What happened to me, Gin?"
"Please, Harry," Ginny pleaded as fresh tears sprung to her eyes. This scared Harry more than anything else, he could count on one hand the number of times he'd seen Ginny cry in the many years he'd known her.
One of the things that most attracted Harry to Ginny was just how well she always seemed to hold things together in a crisis.
If Ginny was crying, something was gravely wrong.
But Harry had no chance to ask further questions, as one of the healers spoke, something about a portkey being ready. Then wordlessly Ginny pressed something cold into his free hand, and Harry instantly felt the uncomfortable pull of the portkey.
7:40pm June 25th, 2000
The young couple arrived in a sparse room, only decorated by the presence of a dark timber door in one wall. While Ginny landed on her feet, Harry really didn't stand a chance at such a gracefully landing - instead he fell flat on his back, gaining even more bruises to add to his current collection.
There was no chance for discussion, as an elderly doctor and only marginally younger woman entered the room. It seemed that they had indeed been awaiting Harry and Ginny's arrival.
The woman pushed a wheelchair over to where Harry lay, while the kindly doctor made the introductions. "Mr Potter, pleasure to meet you son. Welcome to St Luke's; just so that you know we are on the eighth floor, which is the haematology and oncology unit. I'm Dr Alonstone, this is my secretary, Petra Macmillan. And who might your companion be?"
Ginny offered her hand to Dr Alonstone, introducing herself, "Ginny Weasley, Harry's fiancé."
"Pleasure to meet you, Miss Weasley." Dr Alonstone drew his wand, startling Harry, but no one else reacted, as the doctor explained, "Please relax Mr Potter, I thought you might need some assistance getting into the wheelchair," Saying no more, the doctor/wizard gently levitated Harry off of the floor, an positioned him in the waiting wheelchair. "Oh, and just for the record, this is a muggle hospital. If anyone besides myself or Ms Macmillan are present please refrain from revealing your 'gifts'. Now, why don't we move this conversation to my office, I think you will find that it is much more comfortable."
7:45pm June 25th, 2000
The consultation room within Dr Alonstone's office was large, and masculinely decorated with dark timbers and expensive leather.
On one wall hung at least two dozen framed certificates, on another was a bookshelf holding a vast collection of medical textbooks, and the window behind the consultant's desk looked out over the darkened London cityscape.
Dr Alonstone sat behind his desk, and Harry and Ginny sat across from him in the spacious office, the doctor flicked through the thin patient file in his hands.
"Thank you for seeing us, sir," Ginny said, breaking the brief silence that had fallen over the room.
"No trouble at all," The consultant replied cordially. "I have been in contact with the healer you saw, Mr Potter, and I agree that we need to admit you tonight, looking to begin treatment as soon as possible. The potions that she gave you have stabilised you for now, but that will not last I'm afraid."
Still in quite a deal of shock, Harry remained silent. From where she sat at Harry's side, Ginny spoke to the doctor, "Okay, so what do we need to do?"
"Firstly, I'd like to get a bit of information on Harry's medical history. Any past injury or illness? Don't worry if it's our sort of unusual, I've yet to find something that couldn't be noted as a more 'muggle' issue."
"Well," Again Ginny spoke, "Harry's never really been sick. Except for what happened when he was a baby; you'd know about that, wouldn't you?"
"I do. Has there been anything else?"
"Nothing permanent," Harry said abruptly. "I'm an auror, so I've had a few scrapes-"
Ginny choked back a sarcastic comment - there had been more than 'a few scrapes', but as nothing had caused any ongoing problems, so she let it slide. They had far more important issues to address.
"Very well," Dr Alonstone commented, making a couple of notes in the file. "Now, Harry have you noticed any more recent issues? Tiredness, frequent infections, bone and/or joint pain, bruising more easily than usual, recent unintentional weight loss, anything like that."
"Yes," Harry replied simply. He had experienced in the last few weeks all of the symptoms stated.
"Which ones?"
"All of them."
"What does that mean?" Ginny asked worriedly.
"That means, Miss- Well it goes toward confirming our suspicions given the results of the diagnostic spells," Dr Alonstone explained. "Unfortunately, in order to manage Harry's illness, we must first make a definitive diagnosis. That will also give us a better idea of what stage Harry's condition currently is at, and how well he responds to the treatment."
"What do you have to do- How do muggles diagnose things like this? Hell, I don't even know what 'this' is." Being from a pure-blood family, Ginny was at a disadvantage - she knew nothing about muggle medicine.
"Currently Mr Potter's blood is unable to clot adequately, the diagnostic spells also revealed a number of concerning abnormalities in his blood. The information we have available to us at this stage is suggestive of some form of haematological disorder or malignancy."
Subtly Harry - knowing a bit more about what might be involved - took a reassuring hold of his fiancé's hand. "You think I have cancer?"
"It is a distinct possibility," Dr Alonstone answered sympathetically. "I am going to call a nurse in now; they will take you to the ward, and draw a blood sample. After I see the results of that test, it's likely that I will decide to give you a transfusion of donated blood, probably platelets - the part of the blood which allows it to clot - as well. While this is happening, I will sort out the paperwork for your admission, Mr Potter. We will leave the packing in your nose for at least a day; I understand that it likely is uncomfortable, however we truthfully cannot risk another bleed at this stage, it could put you life in danger. I will come see you on the ward once your settled to explain my plan for your care."
8:20pm June 25th, 2000
"Are you sure that it's supposed to go this way, Harry?" Ginny asked uncertainly, trying to help Harry to get changed from his ruined suit into a hospital gown. The gown, made from rather thin white cotton, two sets of ties were all that were used to hold the back closed.
It was far from an easy task as they had to work around the various monitoring equipment, and cannulas in the back of Harry's hand, and in the crook of his other elbow, which connected to bags of infusing blood products and fluids - something that Harry found annoying, but Ginny was completely horrified by.
"Unfortunately," Harry answered tiredly. The day's events had really taken a lot out of him, and even the basic hospital bed was looking tempting - granted Ginny had discretely put a cushioning charm on the thin mattress, so it would be better than it might have been.
"Well, I'll stop by the Manor before I come by tomorrow, get you some of your own pyjamas. The muggles won't let me stay with you, will they?"
"Probably not. We need to be careful too, talking about our world - they might think we're crazy," Harry might have said this jokingly, but they both knew it was really no joking matter.
"Yeah, right. So, what do I call them?" Ginny's tone was so serious, it was all Harry could do not to burst out laughing. Magically or not, the were all people.
The gown now sorted, Harry carefully tucked his wand away in the top drawer of the side table, and slipped into the bed. Yawning wearily, he suggested, "I'll explain it to you tomorrow, okay?"
"Tomorrow," Ginny agreed. Though the stress of the day was wearing heavily on Ginny, she kept up a calm facade for Harry - she had no idea that he was just as scared as she was, as he did the same. "You should get some sleep, I'll see you in the morning. Okay?"
To Be Continued...
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