Prophecy Repeated, chapter eleven.
Disclaimer:-
Harry Potter belongs to J.K.Rowling, her various publishers and Warner Brothers. This story and any new characters belong to me.
RECAP.
After Lucius is nearly killed by his father, Harry is certain he is the boy in the prophecy, but no nearer to knowing how to tell him.
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"Come in. Yes, Gail? What brings you here?"
"Professor. I want to leave Hogwarts."
Hermione was stunned. "Leave? I don't understand. Why? Where would you go?"
"I don't mean leave, leave. I mean, stop being a student. I could still live with Mum and Harry, like before."
"This is very sudden. Why?"
"I think the castle made a mistake."
Hermione's eyebrows raised a little at that thought. "Why do you think that?"
"I can't do ANYTHING. I can't do a single charm. I'm useless at potions. And you know what I'm like at transfiguration. And as for Defence..."
Hermione remembered back to the transfiguration lesson where they had to change a matchstick into a needle. None of the students had been successful, which wasn't unusual for a first lesson. Some had almost done it, but without the hole in the top. Others had the shape, but not the silver metallic colour, while others had managed to change the wood to metal, but were left with something that looked like a metal model of a match. Even the worst at least managed to get a point in one end or a silver sheen to the wood. Gail's matchstick had stayed exactly that, a wooden matchstick, no change of shape, texture or colour. Gail had almost run from the class in shame.
It hadn't been helped by her being one of the few who hadn't been able to even make their feathers move a fraction in charms, let alone levitate them.
Hermione shook her mind back to the present. "You're top in your class at History of Magic," she pointed out.
"That's because I don't have to do magic, just listen. I'm so useless at everything else, I decided I'd stay awake just so I could be good at SOMETHING."
"It's only been a month or so..."
"You know what they call me, when they think I'm not listening? The Slytherin Squib."
"I'm sorry. I thought they were your friends."
"I don't mean the Slytherins. They wouldn't dare. When one of them called me that, Michelle hexed her and she couldn't sit down for a week."
Hermione couldn't help but smile. So that's what happened, she thought to herself, remembering the girl's strange behaviour the previous week.
"But the others call me that. Not to my face, and not when there's other Slytherins about – they're all too scared of Lucius and Michelle. Why can't I do any magic?" she pleaded.
"You managed a protego shield to protect Lucius. And that's a spell far more advanced than a first year. Where did you learn that one anyway?"
"You're not the only one who can read, Hermione, sorry, Professor. And I watched some of the DA classes for the older students. And I didn't do it very well anyway. His father still nearly killed him."
"His father is one of the most powerful wizards alive. You weakened his spell enough to save Lucius' life. And don't forget the other time you saved his life."
"But any other time, I can't do magic at all. What's the point of going to classes when I can't do anything?"
"I think you just have to be patient. It'll come."
"You think so?"
Hermione paused for a moment, determined not to give a meaningless knee-jerk answer. "It has to. You have too much power for it not to."
Gail turned away to go and gasped, grabbing her side.
"Back hurting again?"
Gail nodded. "It was worse this time. It seems to be getting worse lately."
But as the term progressed, Gail's performance in class didn't improve. While all the others were becoming proficient at at least the most basic charms, Gail had as much success as a muggle might have had, that is, none. Her performances in her other classes were equally dismal. Ginny and Hermione discussed this.
"Hermione, perhaps Gail's right. Perhaps she'd be happier if we pulled her out of class."
"In the short term, maybe. But we know she's powerful sometimes."
"Then why can't she cast the simplest spell?"
"I don't know," Hermione admitted. "But whatever's blocking her will fall one day, and if you've taken her out of class, she'll be a long way behind."
"Does it matter? She's so unhappy right now. I hate to see her like this."
"If it was anyone else, I might agree with you. I hate seeing her trying so hard in class and getting nowhere."
"What do you mean, if it was anyone else?"
"She's part of that prophecy, Ginny."
"I don't like to think about that."
"I know. But she is. And when she finds her magic, she'll need the knowledge she's gaining now, perhaps to save her life, or the lives of others. That's what I think about every time I think of taking her out of class."
"Why does it feel like we're using her, instead of doing what's best for her? Just like everyone did with Harry."
Hermione didn't have an answer and Ginny felt immediately guilty for asking the question. Ginny knew that Hermione had been equally angry at the treatment Harry had so often received from Dumbledore when he was a student. If Hermione thought it was necessary, it probably was. She would never do anything to hurt someone in her charge if she could help it.
But by the last week of term Gail had to be taken out of class. The pain in her back had grown steadily worse, until finally Florence insisted on keeping her in the hospital wing most of the time.
Gail hated it of course, but even a few hours a day at lessons was rapidly becoming too much for her.
She was visited, of course, by her friends, especially Lucius and Michelle, both of whom seemed determined to make sure she didn't miss out of any of the Hogwarts gossip or news.
With Harry and Ginny worrying so much about Gail, it was Hermione that remembered that Lucius had his own problems.
"Lucius, please stay behind after class,"
"Yes, professor."
Lucius was a little nervous. He'd been brought up to dislike Hermione Weasley, who his father saw as responsible for many of the changes he wanted to undo, so Hermione had never been his favourite teacher. So what could she want with him now?
"Lucius. Have you given any thought about what you are going to do over Christmas? You can't go to your father, obviously."
The boy's panicked look showed it hadn't even occurred to him.
"Don't worry. You can stay here at Hogwarts and I do hope you'll join us for Christmas dinner."
Lucius was almost too stunned to reply. "Yes, ma'am," he managed.
"That's settled then. The headmaster would have asked you himself, I'm sure, but he's a little distracted right now."
"Of course."
"Go on then. You don't want to be too late for your next class."
Unlike Gail, an almost empty Hogwarts was something that Lucius was not used to, so he spent quite a bit of time in the hospital wing, trying to cheer Gail up.
A few days before Christmas, as he left, he quietly asked Florence, "She's getting worse, isn't she?"
Florence´s silence was as good as an admission. Certainly she was having to use more and more spells and potions to keep Gail's pain down to a manageable level.
By Christmas Eve, Florence had had to admit to Harry and Ginny, "I still have no idea what's wrong with her. In fact, I can't even FIND anything wrong with her. But it's not put on. Even when she's asleep, she's sweating or tossing and turning from the pain."
Ginny grasped Harry´s hand as he asked the mediwitch, "What do you suggest?"
"I think we need to take her to St. Mungo's. I don't know what they can do, but perhaps they can find something I can't. I'm sorry."
Florence looked guilty, a look Ginny recognised only too well. "It's not your fault, Florence. We know you've done everything you can." Florence nodded sadly.
"Perhaps it would be best if Gail did go to St. Mungo's," said Harry. "You're exhausted, Florence."
Christmas Day was bitterly sad. It wasn't even worth Harry and Ginny visiting Gail as the mediwizard at St. Mungo's had given Gail something which basically made her unconscious for a few days, "to give her at least some time without the pain," as he explained it to a tearful Ginny and ashen-faced Harry.
"I knew I loved her," Ginny cried to Harry later, when they were alone. "But I never knew how much. What if we lose her?"
"We won't," said Harry firmly.
"How can you be sure?"
"Hermione says so," he replied, as if that was the final word on the subject.
Ginny's face almost cracked a smile at his remark.
Hermione had insisted that Lucius spend Christmas Day with her and Ron as Harry and Ginny went in the mood for celebrations. But, to be honest, nor were she, Ron or Lucius. It was probably the most miserable Christmas she could remember.
The week that followed was no better. Visits to St. Mungo's gave none of them any hope. They determined to try to be cheerful around Gail when she was conscious, but Ginny's resolve was tested when Gail asked her, "Mum? Am I dying?"
Ginny's immediate denial was met with a glare which demanded honesty. Despite Hermione's confidence that Gail would survive to fulfil her role in the prophecy, Ginny replied, "We don't know," speaking in almost a whisper.
Surprisingly, Gail seemed satisfied with that answer.
Shortly after New Year, St. Mungo's recommended that Gail be transferred back to Hogwarts. "We can't find anything wrong either and she can be nursed as easily there and she'll probably be happier there."
Ginny asked the mediwizard bluntly, "Is she going to die?"
"I have to be honest with you. I have no idea, Mrs. Potter. We don't know what's causing this, so I can't tell you how it will progress. I would prepare yourselves for the possibility though. We can't find anything physical wrong. We can't find any trace of a curse or other dark magic. I don't like to say this, but we just don't know."
Harry and Ginny's despondency was only tempered by Hermione's continued insistence that, as Gail was part of the prophecy, she had to live to fulfil it. It wasn't much, but it gave them a ray of hope to cling to, the first time Ginny had been pleased that Gail seemed to be part of the prophecy.
With Gail back at Hogwarts, it was soon time for the start of the next term. Most of them knew about Gail's illness. Her absence from lessons at the end of the previous term had caused talk, and the Prophet had written a small article about her, to Harry's surprise, in a subdued and sympathetic tone. So the school seemed unusually quiet and sombre.
It didn't stop the usual rivalries, of course, especially as the Gryffindor v Slytherin quidditch match was coming up soon.
Florence was distracted from Gail by an ever-increasing stream of victims of hexes. One of them, a Ravenclaw boy, seemed to have been hit by his own hex backfiring on him. He seemed to be almost totally drained of magic.
Florence began taking twice daily measurements of his magic level, and was soon relieved to see it slowly increase towards the boy's normal level.
The tension in the school was palpable and all the staff, including Florence, could hardly wait for the match to be over and done with.
Finally, the day of the quidditch match came, and after the match there had been a veritable brawl, and Florence's small hospital wing was filled with casualties, from both physical and magical fights. She had to push the Ravenclaw boy close to Gail.
Tired out from dealing with all the casualties from the brawl, she decided to move him back the following day. She quickly cast her spell to detect his magical level and was startled by the result. Quickly forgetting her tiredness, she moved the Ravenclaw back to his normal bed and cast the spell again. This time it was the result she had expected.
"Is something wrong, Florence?" the boy had asked.
"No. You'll be able to leave the hospital wing in a few days, tomorrow if you give me your word you won't get into any more silly duels."
"Great."
When everyone was asleep, Florence walked quietly up to Gail and cast the spell again.
She immediately went to see Harry and Gail and explained what had happened. "We've been looking in the wrong place. It's not a physical illness."
"But I thought they'd ruled out dark magic?" asked Harry, clutching Ginny's hand, unsure whether he was reassuring her or looking to her for reassurance.
"It's not dark magic," Florence explained. "It's her own magic. I measured it and it's at an incredibly high level. I still don't know why, or how, but I'm sure her own magic is causing the pain."
"Is it still getting worse?" asked Ginny.
"It doesn't seem to be. I think it reached a plateau around Christmas and hasn't really got worse or better since them."
"So why is her magic hurting her?" asked Harry.
"That I don't know," admitted Florence. "I'm wondering if she's actually allergic to magic."
"Is that possible?" asked Ginny.
"Well I've never heard of it before, but then I've never heard of a case like this before. It stumped the best in St. Mungo's."
"So what do we do?"
"Wait, I'm afraid. Try to continue to manage her pain as best we can, and hope it resolves itself."
"And if it doesn't?" Harry couldn't stop himself from asking.
Florence just shook her head and left the couple alone to their worrying. Neither they nor she got much sleep that night.
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Author's note...
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