Diagnosis
A/N: Thanks for all of the reviews.
Disclaimer: I'm not wealthy, nor do I own the rights to this series. I'm just trying my hand at some amiture writing.
Chapter 10: Dumbledore's Army
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Harry awoke early on Saturday morning well rested after the very strenuous day he had endured the day prior. Sitting up and crawling to the foot of his bed (with the hangings firmly closed) Harry grabbed his pajamas from the bottom of the bed; he rarely slept in anything other than his underclothes, but more often than not, he went to bed in the nude. Last night was no different, and even though he was certain that his roommates were still fast asleep, Harry really REALLY didn't fancy giving them a show. So he put on the pajamas and pulled open the hangings in preparation for greeting the day ahead.
Harry quietly got up and retrieved his clean but ratty old clothes. Deciding to take a shower in the hopes that by the time he was done Neville would be up to talk to him before he had to go to the hospital wing for his embarrassing but necessary obligation.
Neville had promised he would after Harry had returned last night. It troubled him how Merope's so-called family had belittled and demeaned her because of her near squibhood. They didn't even once stop to consider that it was their wretched abuse that caused her faltering magic. Was this what Dumbledore's lessons were supposed to convey to him? That Tom Riddle's fate could've very easily been his, although Riddle had grown up without family in an orphanage, if the false memory that Tom Riddle had shown him from the diary in his first year was accurate about his home-life where he was neglected if not physically abused? After all, Harry grew up with a family who were supposed to care for him, but abused and neglected him to the point of starvation; with the threat of being chucked in an orphanage constantly held over his head where (his relatives falsely claimed) that he'd be tortured and sexually abused then hoisted off to a family where the Dursleys treatment was child's play in comparison.
If one really thought deeply into the matter, they'd clearly notice the similarities of Lord Voldemort and his childhoods. Though Harry furtively believed that one being abused as a child doesn't excuse them growing up to become abusers in return.
Shaking himself out of his dark thoughts, Harry grabbed the bundle of his clean clothes from the bedside table–a ratty old pair of jeans and a jumper which he planned to wear under his wizarding robes for his appointment into muggle territory later in the afternoon. He was very glad that he remembered to do so, that way all he'd have to do before going into muggle land was remove his robes; this was far more simpler than having to transfigure his robes into another outfit that was more suitable for the occasion. Because transfigurations were notorious for switching back into the original item if the spell was cast incorrectly (and Harry's transfiguration skills weren't what his dad's were). He couldn't go into hospital wearing what for all intents and purposes looked like a muggle woman's dress to his appointment at the cancer hospital after all.
Even if his muggle clothes were far from decent; as far as he knew, looking like a poor pauper wasn't exactly the new fad…but what did he know, he really hadn't been in touch with the muggle world for more than the summertime's ever since he had started at Hogwarts.
Once he entered the shower room, Harry placed his neatly folded clothes on the counter before turning on the shower.
Stepping into the warm spray, Harry relaxed for the first time in three days. Ever since the incident in the hospital wing where he had threatened to end it all on Wednesday, his nerves had remained as tight as a bow with an arrow attached, where the bow could twang back and let fly the arrow at any moment, or in Harry's case, the imminent and eventually inevitable breakdown that was to come at the knowledge of his impending cancer treatment.
Harry scratched his left arm, noticing the peculiar red blotches that covered his skin. What were they from? Was their just something that made his magic go all wonky whenever needles were involved in his treatment of any ailment of any kind? Because this wasn't the first time he had noticed redness and had his skin itch like mad after going to hospital or having a blood draw. But it went away last time this happened, so I'll just give it time. No need to tell Poppy about it, it'd only freak her out in misguided concern for him. On some level of his subconscious he knew that this attitude of seeming carelessness with his health was a product of the Dursleys abuse.
Picking up the bottle of shampoo Harry squirted some into his hand and began to massage his scalp, rubbing the shampoo in, then rinsing his hair thoroughly. With a pang of uneasiness and sadness, Harry realized that this task would soon be unnecessary as the treatment would likely make all of his raven black hair fall out. This would cut his ordinarily short shower routine even more…but he still had his hair, and he could put away such feelings of dread aside for the time being.
A few minutes later, Harry turned off the tap, then stepped out, grabbing a fluffy towel from the stack of towels that the Hogwarts house elves left out for the students on a daily basis.
Harry hurriedly got dressed then took on the arduous job of combing his thick hair while listening to the magical mirror insulting both his choice of dress and the futility of fighting the losing battle with his hair.
Snatching his toothbrush from the counter, Harry brushed his teeth in record time; the ruddy mirror was really getting under his skin this morning with it's constant nagging and insults. Just before he was about to stalk out of the room in a huff, he remembered that it might be a good idea for him to use the mirror who had just gotten through yet another round of criticisms about muggle raised teens these days, to have a look at his arm.
With a feeling of slight apprehension, Harry pushed up his sleeves and glanced down…but what he saw their shocked him to the very core
The skin was now blood red, and where before their were blotches of redness now in their place were angry red welts.
What was he going to do?
Tell Neville or Poppy?
No, that just wouldn't do; Neville wouldn't know the cause for such a problem, and Poppy would smother him with concern. Performing any magical test on him known to man and he was going to have to endure a battery of muggle testing later; that was enough testing for one day in his opinion. And this would prevent him from holding the first D.A. meeting today, since he had to be at hospital at one.
He would be fine until healer–doctor Robertson met them at the muggle hospital later on. He had to remind himself to stop calling him his healer, because if he slipped up later, it could make for awkward questions, to which their would be no plausible answer that he could give to the muggles.
Grabbing his pajamas and toothbrush, Harry pushed the door open and tossed his barely dirty pajamas into the hamper situated in the sixth year boy's dorm, where the elves would collect it to be washed and then returned to him after it was dry.
"Hey,"muttered a groggy Neville.
"Look what the troll drug in from the wash room."
"Shut it you," said Harry teasingly.
"I have a nagging feeling that our roommates would appreciate it if we took our conversation elsewhere," said Harry, forgetting that a simple silencing charm would do the trick.
"Nah mate. That's too much trouble for my tired self. Let's just sit on my bed. If I draw the curtains and cast a silencing charm, we won't be disturbed."
"How silly of me to forget something so elementary. It's rudimentary charms. Gees, I swear, sometimes being muggle raised really has it's drawbacks when it comes to wizarding common sense," said Harry self-deprecatingly.
"Stop beating yourself up Harry. I was as clueless about simple muggle things when I first started venturing into the muggle world. Don't sweat it."
"What did you see fit to go into the muggle world for, when wizarding pureblood families usually degrade them for their technology and stuff?"
"The Longbottom family doesn't hold the same ideology as say the Nott's or the Zabini's. We have nothing against muggles. That doesn't mean however that we're complacent and careless when it comes to ensuring the statute of secrecy. Because the technology that muggles have concocted especially in the way of warfare is astounding and troubling. If they found out about us and the imminent threat that you-know-who poses to them, they'd wipe us out with a nuclear bomb."
"To right," said Harry. "But how'd you find out about nuclear bombs?"
"Elisa drug me to the cinema to see a film over the summer. It was about America and Russia's disagreement and the Soviet Union. According to the film, the events depicted in the film were fictitious…you just never know though. So when in doubt, it's best to air on the side of caution," Neville chuckled. "I had to persuade Elisa that it was best that we got back to hospital for her next chemotherapy treatment, lest the main antagonist villain swoop down and get her. The hilarious part is that she took me deadly serious."
Harry tried to hold in his laughter–he really did, but he just couldn't do it anymore.
"R-really," choked out Harry amidst gales of laughter. "So the muggles are going to torpedo us all if the dark lord isn't vanquished. I didn't know that you had started going all Mad-Eye Moody on us now mate." Harry said this in complete and utter jest, but unfortunately, it could become a reality. Now for the first time, he was able to fully appreciate the seriousness and necessity of the statute of secrecy that nearly got him expelled in the summer of his fifth year.
"How am I supposed to know," said Neville raising his hands in mock surrender. "I'm not the chosen one, who's destined to destroy the evil megalomaniac." Neville had no idea just how completely true his words were, or how close he was to becoming the boy-who-lived instead of Harry. At times, Harry wished that he hadn't had that roll thrust upon him, but then his parents would be the ones in St. Mongo's and that was a fate worse than death. Not to mention how much more equip his hard life had made him for the fight ahead.
Checking the time with a tempus, Harry decided that whilst their playing around had been fun, he had things to do this morning–like visit Poppy, locate and take his meds, get things set up for the DA…and the list just went on and on and all of that was before lunchtime rolls around.
Getting to the point as to why Neville had gotten up at the crack of dawn to talk to him in the first place, Harry asked in a serious tone. "Last night, I asked you if you had any information about my different options by which my potions and other potential life-saving medications can be delivered by. Can you tell me more about them?"
"Well, as healer Robertson already told you, the Hickman line will be inserted in your upper right chest, just below the collar bone into either a vein or blood vessel…I can never remember which is which. Four tubes will be protruding from the spot on your chest. And according to Elisa, the Hickman will be taped to your upper 'belly' as she so eloquently puts it. The Hickman is more visible to others…and I know how much that would annoy you. There's the additional risk of an opponent in battle ripping the device out of your chest. This would cause you to start bleeding pretty badly. I'm not trying to scare you, but for most patients such a risk of bleeding if it's removed isn't a risk thus the doctors don't usually share this information with the patient. But your situation is unique and I thought you might want to be aware of this when making your decision. However, Elisa has the Hickman because it involves next to no needle sticks."
Harry gnawed his lip. If everything hadn't been so complicated and he hadn't been famous, where anyone could sell a wizarding photograph to the Daily Profet of the scary sounding device where it would be published in the paper, and if Voldemort hadn't been after his blood, where the risk of it being dislodged during the heat of battle wasn't a possibility, then he wouldn't need to hear about the other option. Because the Hickman sounded like the best option–especially since it would involve him never having to deal with needle sticks, unless something out-of-the-ordinary happened…
But alas his life was far from simple. Hence the decision couldn't be based on a what-if scenario, because he was famous, and as Seamus's little stunt with his t-shirt had so thoroughly proven, his acquaintances might sell the information that he had need of a medical device to a reporter, and Voldemort wasn't dead. Harry was going to need every advantage possible if he was going to beat him, and this included not having a line of tubing hanging from his chest…well not really hanging since it would be taped to his body…but if Voldemort ever found out that all he had to do to cause him to start bleeding like crazy was to yank the device out, he would. And Harry had no intentions to handicap himself anymore than his cancer already would in the upcoming war.
"Are their any other lines that are less bulky, but that would still not involve the necessity of needle sticks," asked Harry hesitantly.
"According to Elisa, her friend Lucy has another type of central line, but healer Robertson didn't mention it to you, so I suspect that for some reason or other, it isn't an option for you. Besides, any type of central line, i.e. the Hickman or other central line, require a lot of maintenance care. If you still want to keep this as secret as possible, either of these two choices raises the risk of one of our dorm mates seeing you flush the device with heparin daily, and it's bound to raise questions…"
"And this flushing process has to be done every day," asked Harry of his friend, knowing that since he only recently met his cousin, that he only knew a little more than Harry did when it came to this whole cancer business.
"From what I understand, yes. The flushing process is absolutely necessary both to help prevent infection from entering your body, and so that the medication used to treat your cancer, be it chemotherapy or the potions that you'll be taking, are very toxic and aren't supposed to be mixed, therefore the device must be flushed to prevent that from happening."
Harry was amazed at how knowledgeable Neville sounded about this; it reassured him slightly to know that he had at least one friend who truly understood what he was going through–or as well as a friend could who didn't have cancer.
"What about that port thingy?"
"I haven't really heard that much about that one mate," said Neville apologetically. "But like healer Robertson said, it will involve more needle sticks. Which makes me suspect that their isn't a line in place all of the time, and that that's why the needle sticks are necessary before every treatment session."
Harry gulped.
That didn't sound at all pleasant, but it was looking more and more like the best option he had.
"Nev," asked Harry uncharacteristically shyly.
"Yeah."
"Was your offer to accompany me to hospital a legitimate one?"
"Sure thing. I would never say such a thing unless I intended on carrying through with it. You should know me better than that…"
Harry's eyes moistened slightly at his friend's perceived kindness. No one had willingly offered to go with him to hospital before…but then again, all of the previous hospital visits that the Dursleys took him to, they had caused…so they didn't really count now did they?
"Last night, when you came in, you were to tired to notice, but someone put a note on top of your trunk. Here let me get it for you," offered Neville getting off his bed once he had drawn back the hangings once more to get said missive.
Taking the proffered bit of parchment from his friend, Harry recognized the handwriting; it was from Hermione.
The note was concise and to the point.
Harry:
Both requests you made of me have been completed; the galleons have been set to the approximate date and time of the meeting by now, and word has had ample time to get around to anyone else where and when the meeting is. I should warn you though, Colin has inspired others to come to the meeting, and I can't help but be curious as to their true reasoning for attending; I fear that he's started up a fan club in your honor regretfully. I snuck up to your dorm as you must've sussed out by now, with the dual purpose of placing this note on your trunk and to ward your trunk to ensure against further thievery of your possessions.
Hermione
"I don't believe it," hissed Harry furiously.
"What is it," asked Neville.
"You know that Creevey kid who walks around with a camera, he's always been a little over zealous when it comes to anything to do with me. He's a big fan of mine," said Harry with disgust that someone could worship him so devotedly. "He's gone and started up a bloody fan club that's all about the boy-who-lived. So expect lots of giggling rabid fan girls to put a kink in things today."
"That's bloody fantastic," said Neville facetiously. "We're really going to accomplish a lot today."
"Yeah I know. We won't even have to take a moment to fix people's misconceptions about me, now that the fans of Harry Potter, wizard extraordinaire have arrived to fill everyone in for us," said Harry his voice dripping with sarcasm.
With a sigh, Harry declared. "I best be off to the hospital wing. If I don't get down their soon, I suspect she's going to send a search party."
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Fifteen minutes later, Harry arrived outside the wooden double doors that led to Poppy's sanctuary.
Harry was surprised to say the least when he saw Poppy bustling around the ward doing the necessary tasks that come with the job of being Hogwarts only medi-witch so early when their were currently no patients for once.
"Hey."
Poppy jumped like Lucius Malfoy himself was after her, upon hearing an unexpected voice from just behind her.
Putting a hand to her mouth in shock Poppy said. "Pleased to see you on this fine morning Mr. Potter. But don't you think you overdid the shock factor a bit?"
"Nah," said Harry smiling. "Since you were the one to whom I was told to come to make my contribution to the "Little Harry's Orphaned Children's fund" after all," said Harry seemingly nonplused.
"That's not funny Harry. First off, there's no need for you to be so glib about matters. Your children will not become orphans. I've got full faith that a combination of your loving friends and the muggle and magical treatment will pull you through no matter your prognosis."
"Thanks for your optimism, but science beats hopes and dreams every time."
"Is Mr. Longbottom going to accompany you and Professor Snape-"
Harry cut in before she could continue. "Woe! Wait just a minute. When I told you that you could tell the professor about my condition and that he could brew the potions for me, their was never anything mentioned about him playing nurse maid to me."
Poppy tried to suppress the smile that was bursting to break out on her lips. "Funny, those are the exact words that Professor Snape said when healer Robertson and I told him last night. You know that I would take you if I could, but I've got to stay here to take care of any wayward students who manage to injure themselves in the meantime. You've got nothing to worry about. I assure you that Professor Snape will comport himself with the proper decorum demanded of someone of his position."
"Whatever," muttered Harry none the happier for her meaningless platitudes. "You really think that Neville will agree to come now that his most feared professor is tagging along?"
"If Severus gives you any grief, feel free to let me know when you arrive back here tomorrow."
"W-what did you say? I'm going to have to stay the night in Hospital?"
"Yes, the doctors could allow you to come home and then return tomorrow for your procedure to implant the device for your treatment, but they want to make sure that your vitals are stable throughout the night and that you don't eat or drink anything after midnight."
"Oh pleeeaaassseeeee don't tell me that Professor Snape is going to be forced to be their all night to hold my hand!"
"No. Unless you wish for him too," shot back Poppy slyly.
"What's stopping him from leaving either Neville or myself stranded at the hospital tomorrow "accidentally?"
"…Nothing, but he wouldn't dare lest he suffers my wrath. But that's besides the point since you have your bracelet as a last line of defense. Never forget that."
Changing the subject abruptly, Harry asked. "Um, Poppy?"
"Yes."
"How am I going to pay for my treatment? Isn't my muggle treatment alone going to be quite costly?"
"Probably, but in the UK all children under sixteen, and those sixteen through eighteen who are in school are qualified for their medical costs to be taken care of courtesy of the NHS, (National Health Service). And that includes children undergoing cancer treatments. Though your potions won't be covered since we have to write them into the muggle paperwork as clinical trials which aren't always covered."
Harry rubbed his hands together nervously. "I'll still be able to get them won't I?"
"The Potters left you with a decent amount of gold, you needn't worry about costs, especially since a certain black dog has gone into the great beyond," said Poppy looking at Harry significantly.
Woe! Hold on a minute, how did Poppy know about Sirius, let alone that he left a substantial amount of his earthly possessions to me when Dumbledore only told me that last night after the viewing of the memory?
Seeing the stunned expression on Harry's face, Poppy hastily reassured, "I am a member of the Order. And I'm aware of the previous owner of Headquarters identity and that they were innocent. As well as the fact that he wished for only the best for you. It isn't that hard to deduce given that knowledge, that he would leave his gold and the decrepit old house to you to do with as you will, because who else did he have to leave it too? Since most of his remaining family members are either dead, formally disowned (which means that they can't officially be bequieved anything in the will directly), or battier than a senile old man with a long white beard."
Harry laughed bitterly. "I doubt that covering my cancer treatments is what he intended me to use the money for. Knowing him, he left it to me with the hopes that it would all go towards a vicious prank war between Gryffindor and Slytherin."
"And when not if you recover, you can use the remaining funds to live your life to the fullest. So you will still indirectly be using it to ensure your ultimate happiness. That's all any godfather could want for their only charge."
"Um, I kinda need to go back to my dorm and get my pills to take during breakfast, so I sort of need to get on with things if you know what I mean," gestured Harry awkwardly.
"Ah, yes…well then. Come right this way."
Harry followed Poppy sheepishly. This was to date the most humiliating thing he had to do; how was he expected to 'get off' with a woman who he considered a paternal figure standing right outside the door?
Harry reached out hastily and grabbed the empty plastic cup with a lid atop it and entered the lavatory door that Poppy had led him too.
When he was finished, Harry left the cup of his DNA sitting on a counter in the loo, washed his hands and did his best to walk out as calmly as could be, as if nothing awkward and embarrassing had just happened. This wasn't the way he envisioned making babies, but if the radiotherapy made him sterile, then he would be shooting blanks for the rest of his life; this could be his only chance.
"Do you have any questions for me before you leave," asked Poppy ever the professional, acting as if she didn't know what had been going on only moments ago behind that locked door.
"Do you happen to have a spare pill so that I don't have to go back to my dorm and get one before breakfast?"
"Yes, I thought that your nerves might be a bit high strung this morning, so I had your healer give me a dose for just this occasion. Have you even looked at the bottle," asked Poppy, suspecting that after yesterday it might've slipped his mind that he had to take the pills.
"Erm, when I got back yesterday after the meeting with Albus, the one that I told you about a while ago, I was to emotionally spent to remember to take them."
"That's quite alright," said Poppy reassuringly. "But just don't make a habit of it. Cancer patients sometimes think that they don't have to adhere strictly to their drug regimen, but it's vital that you do so. Over the next few days, you will be given all of the medications that you will need to take and a schedule of times and days that you need to take them. Some drugs are absorbed by your body faster than others, and if your dosing schedule gets off even by a little, the effects can be dangerous if one drugs level gets to high, you could OD just by a simple miscalculation. Consequently, if the drug gets below it's therapeutic level (too low) you need to let someone know so that we can take preventative measures. During your cancer treatment, if the drug is taken to often or not often enough this will make your cancer treatment less effective than if you had followed the instructions carefully. Everyone makes mistakes,and it's possible that at times during your treatment, you'll fall violently ill, so much so that you won't be able to keep the drugs down if you take them orally; that's why there'll be a small supply of the drugs you'll need throughout the course of treatment here so that I or Severus can give you the drug interveniously. I'm not trying to scare you, but you need to know that if your steroids specify that you take them at noon, that doesn't mean two as to hide it from people, it means noon. I'm sorry that you must deal with the facts of life that come hand and hand with being a cancer patient. Healer Robertson and myself will do our best to make the transition easier for you. If you miss a dose once the drugs have been in your system for over a week, it's crucial that you let one of us know as soon as possible. And don't forget, Severus now knows of your circumstances so he can help you too."
Harry blushed.
"So which steroid am I on? The leaflet that I read yesterday said that people who are given radiotherapy for brain tumors often times take dexamethasone, is that what I'll be taking? And how many times a day do I take it?"
"No. You'll be taking prednisone; it's similar to dexamethasone. It just has less severe side-effects. Prednisone is taken three times a day, for the first two weeks,, healer Robertson prescribed two pills each for breakfast and lunch, then one for dinner. For weeks three and four of the radiation treatment, you take two pills for breakfast, and one each for lunch and dinner consecutively. And your maintenance dose (which is to be taken until you're tumor free) is one pill by mouth at each meal. Now that should be easy to remember, which makes me wonder if you even looked at the bottle at all," admonished Poppy.
Harry shook his head sheepishly.
"I'm really sorry for that Poppy. I shouldn't have forgotten about the pills no matter what cayodic things happened or will happen in my life. I'm the boy-who-lived, and certain expectations are required of me, and I can't let my own illness get in the way of those aspects no matter what!"
Harry was grateful in a sense that Poppy remained very much ignorant of the prophecy, because if she knew about it, she'd be all in a tizzy after his previous statement; saying meaningless platitudes like "The fate of the wizarding world doesn't lay on your shoulders alone." Or "It wasn't your fault, you-know-who murdered so-and-so, not you." Harry really wasn't in the mood to listen to such, consequently, he decided to wait until things calmed down a bit to tell her the contents of the prophecy. He felt the need to confide all in someone, but now wasn't the time.
"It's not a big deal that you missed your first dose. You're going to have to do better from now on though," chided Poppy mildly.
"Got it."
"The steroid that you'll be taking has fewer side-effects than some, but more than others. Firstly, it's recommended that you take prednisone on a full stomach in order to prevent the nausea from worsening. Other side-effects include, weight gain, night sweats, inability to sleep, feeling of hunger, acne, bruising of the skin, redness of the skin etc, frequent urination, dizziness, blurry vision, if you're taking the drug for an extended period of time brittle bones and sugar and protein in urine (which is a sign of either long term or short term diabetes), changes in mood or behavior…"
"That's enough," said Harry worriedly. "I can't listen to any more side-effects just now. If I start having any more side-effects, I'll come and see you if it's alright with you. I just can't sit here and listen to the ever-increasing list of horrid side-effects that all of the potions and pills and radiation waves are going to affect my body any longer."
Putting a soothing hand on her patient's shoulder, Poppy said "I understand. You can get through this. Though I must warn you that allergic reactions to prednisone are particularly unpleasant. You need to alert the closest person around you if your tongue swells, you get hives, your face swells, or your throat swells to the point where it's uncomfortable to breathe, as these are all signs of Anaphylactic shock and the patient requires immediate assistance to breathe if that happens."
Some people might criticize Poppy for informing her patient of the more severe side-effects of the drugs that they'll be taking, but Poppy knew that for this particular patient, he would rather her tell him the brutal truth about things than for her to sugar-code it in a misguided attempt to protect him from the horrible side-effects of the various drugs and therapies that a cancer patient might experience.
"Thanks for being straight with me," said Harry swallowing the lump in his throat.
"Here is your morning dose," said Poppy handing him two very small pills. "I'll have Dobby bring you some soup to eat before you take them. What's your favorite soup?"
"If it's Dobby who'll be bringing it up, ask him if it's too much trouble for him to bring me some of that scrumptious potato soup that he makes. And if he raises any objections to me having soup for breakfast, just make him think that I'm ill in the hospital and my stomach can't handle anything else. I'm really craving some good old homemade potato soup. Right about now."
Poppy chuckled. "Dobby is your biggest fan; I don't think he'd ever tell the infamous Harry Potter 'no."
Harry grinned.
"You're right."
After enjoying a very tasty soup for breakfast, Harry took a swig of the doctored pumpkin juice and quickly swallowed the tiny pills.
"Bleh!"
"Steroids often times leave a bitter aftertaste. I'd suggest you try swallowing them with a drink that has a particularly strong flavor to disguise the bitterness."
"Why can't medications or potions for that matter, ever taste pleasant?"
"Because then teenagers would make it a habit to imbibe in drugs and potions instead of just mere alcoholic beverages more than they already do."
A light bulb went off in Harry's brain. "Um, can house elves procure any muggle fizzy drinks?"
"I honestly don't know. But I'll ask Dobby if you'd like. Because if any house elf has the ingenuity to pull a stunt like that off, it'd be him. Why do you want muggle fizzy drinks though?"
"You suggested that I start taking the prednisone with a drink with a strong flavor, and cola has a very appealing and pungent taste. Plus, the Dursleys only let me have cola one time at an outing that they were forced to drag me along to, when Mrs. Figg was unable to watch me. A nice lady at the concession stand saw that they weren't going to order me anything, so she made it seem like her error then she made an extra cola for me. Uncle Vernon tried to persuade her that he didn't have the money for his nephew to have a drink, but she proceeded to inform him that the cola was "on the house"; you said that I should fulfill everything on my list, and having cola with a meal would make me happy."
Harry suspected that part of Poppy's sudden and unquestioning attitude stimmed from regret over his wretched childhood, but at this very moment, he couldn't bring himself to care why she agreed, just that in the end, she did acquiesce. "AL righty then. Is their anything else that I can do for you? If not, then I'd highly recommend that you get a move on if you want to keep up appearances to your friends."
"Um, there's one other thing…"
"What is it Harry?"
"Do you have a piece of parchment and a quill that I can use to write a short letter?"
"Sure. Give me a minute to go get it."
Once Poppy had returned from her office, Harry took the proffered parchment, quill and ink pot from Poppy and began to write a letter, taking particular care not to say to much in case the letter was intercepted on it's way to Headquarters.
Dear Moony:
Things have been rather eventful around here. I can't say everything that I need to say to you in a letter; do you have any idea where the brother mirror to Padfoot's is? The head chicken of the flock of birds told me that you'll be departing to do some "recruiting of those like yourself" and I know that that more than likely means that you won't be around for a while. I broke my brother to Padfoot's mirror, but since I'm pretty sure he didn't have it on him at the DOM, I suspect that you'll find it if you search in his bedroom for it. If we can find a matching set, please ensure that one heads in my direction. But that being said, that isn't why I put quill to parchment in the first place: I was wondering if there was any way that you could procure a Boggart for me. It'd be used for the same reason that we used it for during my private lessons. The club is starting up again, and people need at least a sudo specter of what they could encounter one day in order to get the hang of the charm. Hope to hear from you again soon.
Sincerely:
Prongs JR.
Harry blew on the parchment to make the ink dry quicker than it would on it's own. He was rather pleased, because if the letter did wind up in the wrong hands, no one would have a clue what the letter was concerning. Also, he liked how he mocked Dumbledore's position as the Head of the Order of the Phoenix and all of his other titles and he was sure that Remus would get a kick out of it too. Both Remus and himself were still grieving, one could only hope that this bit of humor would brighten Remus's mood as he started his journey to the camps where he would infiltrate the homes of as of yet undeclared werewolves where he would attempt to gain their favor and persuade them not to adopt Greybacks ideals, or join Voldemort.
"And Poppy, could you make sure that this letter gets to Remus Lupin in a timely manner? I suspect that you can get it to him faster than I could, what with the security measures that have been put into place regarding our mail coming and going from the castle at odd hours of the day."
"Of course,, Harry."
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Draco's POV
"Hey Pans," asked Draco quietly as he and his usual entourage of friends lounged around on the comfortable but very austentious looking furniture in the Slytherin common room on a bright and sunny fall morning.
"Haven't I told you time and time again not to call me that," hissed Pansy her cheeks stained Weasley red at the ridiculous and childish nickname.
"Yeah," said Draco flippantly. "But haven't I also forbid you to call me that incessant nickname of which you do?"
"I would never, Dray," said Pansy in a falsely sweet voice.
"You just bloody well did," retorted Draco indignantly. "A pureblood like yourself should comport oneself with more grace, maturity, dignity, and finesse than you do." Draco's hurtful words stung Pansy like nothing he had ever said before.
She bit her lip, holding back the tears that prickled her eyelids. It had been beaten into her that pureblood ladies never cry in front of others. Especially if such emotional temper tantrums were caused by a thoughtless and hurtful action or the words of friend.
"What did you want," asked Pansy hotly.
"To know if you are planning on attending Potter's defense club today in the great hall or not. I know that you're aware that he's holding court their today with all of his little admirers, since you were sitting near him and that firsty he came to sit with the other evening at dinner."
"What is it to you? I assume that you won't be attending, given that you're still under your daddy's thumb now that the Ministry so graciously pardoned him after a good amount of gold changed hands."
Blaise and Millie were unusually quiet this morning.
"I won't be attending this meeting, because Daphne as so kindly agreed to go to the first meeting to scout things out for me. Since it's the first meeting since we played a part in breaking up the illegal club last year, I doubt that any of his friends will be glad to see me so soon. Potter is probably going to spend most of the meeting explaining things to the newcomers anyways."
"Do you reckon that I ought to go," inquired Pansy. "Because I was their with you in Umbridge's office that night when Potter's little allies fought back and got the upper hand on us. I wonder if he's going to recount what happened…you know for the club to review the duel that ensued…strictly for educational purposes of course."
"I doubt that Granger will let him humiliate anyone their who was directly involved anyways. Her moral compass is to accurate enough for her to allow such shenanigans to go on; she'll see right through either his or Weasley's attempts to damage our reputations any further than they already are after we participated in the Inquisitor's squad."
Both Pansy and Millie were utterly shocked at Draco's willing admittance that he was in the wrong, even just a little bit. It was very uncharacteristic of him to do so. Maybe their friend really had began to change for the better.
Both girls contemplations were rudely interrupted when Daphne Greengrass walked down the girls staircase; the Slytherin girl, who was dubbed the ice queen of Slytherin strode down the stairs with a heir of grace about her.
"What has you lot up so early on a Saturday morning," asked Daphne even though she had her suspicions that they might be going the same place she was.
"We're just having an intelligent four-way conversation of which you weren't invited to join," said Millicent coolly. In truth, she had been silent until this point, but it was none of Greengrass's business regardless.
"Fine. Be that way," replied Daphne coolly. "But Draco, Astoria was sorely disappointed the other day when you blew her off."
"Did she ever think that I did so because I was looking out for the both of our interests?"
"You prat. She only wanted help with ancient runes. I don't like what you're insinuating about my little sister Malfoy. Your father already has plans for your betroved does he not?"
"Yes," spluttered Draco furiously. "But I will never acquiesce to his demands. No offense Pansy, but I really don't like you that way."
A sense of relief flooded Pansy's body. For so long, she had been worried that Draco might out of some family obligation want to marry her as a trophy wife and screw men on the down low.
"But you do realize what that'll in tale Draco," said Pansy kindly. "Your father will probably disown you if he finds out."
"Just between the five of us, I don't care one iota what Lucius cares about me. He's dictated my life for too long."
"Interesting…" said Daphne.
"Good for you," said Pansy in a chipper voice. "So does that mean that you won't be taking the mark over Christmas?"
"I-I honestly don't know yet..." Draco said trailing off deliberately, because lately he had been contemplating perhaps becoming a spy for the light side, or just remaining neutral in the war. He knew that if he didn't make up his mind soon, then he'd have blood on his hands come December and the Christmas hols, because Lucius had made it quite clear before he was carted off to Azkaban that he would take the mark by then, willingly or unwillingly. And he had heard from a very reliable source that the initiation process involved you murdering someone or seriously injuring them. He could do it, if such heinous acts were to help save the lives of his friends, but he could no longer honestly say that he would join the dark lord just because he believed in his twisted ideology's anymore.
"Oi Draco," said Millie snapping her fingers in front of his face to gain his attention once more. "Are you alright?"
"Yeah, never better," said Draco evasively.
"Well, if there's one thing I know for sure," said Daphne, feeling safe to reveal this to these people before her because, one of them she knew was her best friend and had no intentions of ratting her out for her opinion, and the other, someone who she could threaten into keeping his mouth shut if necessary. "I don't have any intentions of joining the dark lord."
"So then you'll be fighting on Dumbledore's side eh," said Blaise who had never pretended that he was going to remain anything but neutral in this war.
"I never said that. The man has talked about the inequality of the wizarding world, but has of yet not done anything about it. He is a member of the Wizengamot and therefore has the power to do something about it. And he speaks of uniting the houses but does nothing about it. He treats us Slytherins like we're somehow worth less because we're not Gryffindors," stated Daphne confidently, tossing her hair over her shoulder.
"True," agreed Draco. "This has all been interesting, but I've got somewhere to be."
"It's not time…" Pansy broke off, not finishing her sentence because White and her friends came down the girls' staircase to socialize before they went to Potter's club. She had only a scant minute to lift the privacy spell that she had cast earlier for good measure. Of course, the other participants in their intriguing conversation had no idea that she had cast a privacy spell in the first place, so they were understandably puzzled as to her silence upon seeing a few firstys coming down the stairs.
"Good morning," said Holly cheerfully. Nothing could cause her good mood to shift because she was finally going to learn some spells so that she could defend herself. And Potter had even told her that he might teach her a few things about healing himself…
"Good morning," said Pansy to the first year girl kindly.
"I've got to meet someone to get some things worked out," said Draco brushing off the concerned hand that Pansy had placed on his shoulder. He smiled a ruthful smile, because Potter had no idea that he was going to be ambushed in the great hall by his opponent. Draco needed to talk to him, and this was the only way he could come up with that his friends wouldn't find out about later and criticize him mercilessly about later incessantly.
Draco made it through the corridors and to the great hall in record time, and fortunately he had managed to avoid awkward questions from the biggest gossips of Hogwarts-the portraits.
Pushing open the doors and striding into the room with an air of confidence about him, Draco said, "Potter, I see that everything is in order for your meeting."
Harry spun around with a look of startled surprise on his face.
"Why are you here?"
"Because I wanted to talk to you ALONE."
"About what Malfoy? I have better things to be doing in the few minutes before my adoring fans get here." Draco didn't expect the bitterness in Potter's voice at the mentioning of his fan girls. He thought that Potter liked all of the attention from them…but maybe he detested their presence too.
"I just wanted to extend my humble apology for my part in everything last year. Because of my actions, you lost a man you evidently cared for-if your rushing across half of England wasn't proof enough. I'm really sorry. My friends and I regret being a part of Umbitch's little club of snitches."
"Apology accepted," said Harry tersely.
"But I can't accept your apology to my friends, as they deserve to hear it from your own lips."
Draco looked around the room nervously. He wanted to get this done and over with, because he wasn't entirely sure if he could get up the nerve to do this all again another time.
Fortunately for Draco's sake, Ron and Hermione came bursting through the doors of the great hall at that very moment.
"What's he doing here," asked Ron abruptly.
"He has something to say to you, don't you Malfoy,"asked Harry curtly.
"Yes. Ronald Weasley, youngest son of the Weasley household," he paused to collect his thoughts before continuing. Harry wondered what kind of bizarre ritual Malfoy was conducting with his friend. Obviously Ron had some idea of what was going on, because he made no attempt to interrupt the blond as he usually would. "I ask for your forgiveness for my actions last term. Though I can make no restitution for the actions of any member of the Malfoy family except my own. Will you accept my sincerest apologies for the grievances that my actions and those of those whom I call friend have caused you?"
Grudgingly Ron said, "Yes, Draco Malfoy, son of Lucius Malfoy, I except your apology and…" Ron paused fighting back the urge to ask for some ridiculous demand in restitution, because he knew that if he didn't, Harry would have his guts for garters. He had already alienated Hermione to some extent by entering into a relationship with Lavender, he had no desire to make matters worse by being childish. "I require no restitution of you. You are forever absolved of your actions to my friend Harry Potter, which caused the death of someone whom he cared greatly for."
Now that the formal dance that Ron and Draco seemed to be conducting was over, Harry for the umpteenth time that morning scratched at his left forearm which was covered by the sleeve of his robe.
Merlin it itched!
But surely it's nothing…after all, the redness that I got on my forehead after I went to hospital that time went away a few days later…if I can just put it off until it goes away, then there's nothing to worry about.
Draco turned to Granger looking as if he wished he were anywhere else.
"I'm sorry for all of the grief I've caused you over the years Granger. You didn't deserve that backfired spell in fourth year, and you didn't deserve being sent into the Forbidden Forest with that old hag."
"I forgive you," said Hermione, figuring that Malfoy had already suffered enough blows to his pride for one day. "All I ask is that you refrain from such behavior to my friends and I ever again."
"Alright," said Draco coolly. "I'd best be going. People to see…places to go and all of that."
Harry very much doubted that, since he suspected that some of his friends might be coming to the great hall shortly, but he didn't contradict the blond allowing him to save face and just leave.
..:..:..
Harry's POV
Never had I thought I would see the day Draco Malfoy, who was known for his pride, apologize to me, but well. Here it was. Granted, he did it rather stiffly, but not only did he manage to keep his trademark sneer and any other nasty expression he might have picked up off his face, he also extended an apology to Ron and Hermione. Fancy that! It couldn't change the past, of course, but it was still good to know that he didn't still feel that what he did was right. It made a nice change, and secretly, I hoped it would last.
Before Harry knew it, the first meeting was starting, "Can I have everybody's attention," asked Harry. "We need to begin."
The entire great hall quieted down.
"I'm going to ask all new members wishing to join Dumbledore's Army to sign this member's list before I begin."
"What happens if we don't sign," asked a fifth year Slytherin girl. "It's not that I am afraid of being associated with your group or anything, I just don't want this list to get into the wrong hands with my signature that's all."
Harry had his doubts about the girl's loyality, but deciding to take Hermione's attitude about the other houses and his own new opinion that Slytherins needed a chance to prove themselves, he let it go answering, "If you don't feel comfortable signing, then I'm going to have to ask you to leave. Hermione will be keeping the list and I can assure you that no one will find it let alone read it."
"How's that," asked a new Ravenclaw student.
"Hermione has cast several spells on it and I have learned to trust her magical abilities when it comes to stuff like this," said harry confidantly.
"Why do we need the list," asked Cho. "It's not like Professor Umbridge is here to catch us as members of an illegal defense club this year after all."
"I want us to still have a roster."
" Is it hexed like the last one," asked Cho. "It took Marietta weeks to recover from that horrible hex!"
"She deserved it," said Lavender. "She betrayed us to the enemy."
"Yes and she has suffered for her crimes," said Hermione a bit smugly.
All of the new students got up and signed the list, some more reluctant than others.
"The only request that I have is that none of you use any combat spells or other skills that you are tought here to directly aid Lord Voldemort. Several of the new members jumped at the sound of the Dark Lord's name. Harry would definitely have to break them of the habit soon.
"We're going to break up the DA into two groups, the advanced branch and the beginner's branch. To begin with, all of those fourth year and below will be audomatically placed in the beginner's branch and those fifth year and above will start their if they're new and have the opportunity to join the advanced group once they master a certain skill level. This is also true for any first through fourth years as well. If you perform poorly on a regular basis, you can also be downgraded to the beginner's branch. This organizational process is for your own safety as the advanced group will be Hogwart's primary defense if we're attacked. That being said, no one will be forced to fight, you can always retreat to your dormatory with the first through fourth years, if the school is under attack"
"Then why are we being trained at all," said a Hufflepuff third year.
"Your job will be to protect those unwilling or unable to fight if our and the Order/Ministry's defense fails. Of course this doesn't mean that this sinareao will happen, but I wanted to explain the whys and hows of this system so that no one feels left out," said Harry.
"I'll be leading the meetings usually, but on occasion others can teach a class for either group if they feel that they have something to contribute to that specific group. Whilst I will train you lot for war, none of you are obligated to fight when and if we do find ourselves facing battle."
"You said that you'll teach me more about healing, when will that take place if you're leading either the advanced branch or the beginners," asked Holly.
"For you and anyone else wanting to learn more about healing, I'll contact you with this," said Harry pulling out a spare DA galleon for Holly. "This is how we contacted the DA members last year when it was time for meetings. The cereal numbers will change to show the date and time. Everyone will leave today with one of these. In case of an attack we may contact you using these as well."
"Do you expect an attack," asked one of Holly's friends.
"These are troubled times and you never know what's going to happen, so just be prepared to learn all you can."
"What would you like me to start working on with the returning members," asked Hermione.
"We're going to do a general review of all of the spells that we went over last year for those fifth year and above," said Harry. "This will allow the members of that age group that are new to the group to either learn the spells or brush up on them before any new material is learned. Since we have people here from all seven years, we're going to have to set up different times to teach different age groups.
"Yes," said everyone at once.
"Today I'd like to open up the floor and just answer any questions that you may have and we'll begin spell casting next meeting."
"Could you go over the spells with the fifth through seventh years Hermione and Neville while I answer questions from the new members."
"Of course Harry," said Neville following Hermione across the room and gesturing for the students in question to follow.
"Erm, I reckon you lot want to hear what exactly makes me qualifyed to instruct you in defense," said Harry awkwardly.
"If you wouldn't mind," said a Gryffindor boy.
"Well it all started with the philosopher's stone…"
The remainder of the lesson became a question and answer session about the golden trio's adventures through their years at Hogwarts. Harry really didn't see what all the hype was about, but his story seemed to impress those who were initially reluctant about joining the group.
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A/n: I hope that you liked this chapter. Some of you had requested that I leave out cannon, so I left out the fill in the new members about Harry's life since we already read it in cannon during their fifth year.
Also, I wanted to mention in case you didn't notice it in this chapter, that Albus also told Harry about the inheritance of Black's estate last chapter, I didn't put it in that chapter because I wanted to avoid quoting more cannon. Yes that does include Creature. Dobby is keeping a firm hand on him until which time he becomes a proper elf once more. Hope that this explanation is good enough.
If I need to change any scenes or alter anything, just let me know.
I also regret to tell you that we've officially caught up with all of the fic that I've prewritten, so it may be a week or so before I post chapter eleven.