Chapter 21: Back to Business

House felt somewhat at home now that he was back in his natural element. His fellow doctors sitting around the table, the white board behind him, and his patient safely tucked in a room far, far away. Obviously this still wasn't even close to a normal case, but at least there was a bit of familiarity now.

Of course, Foreman and Kutner's absence was strongly felt. Thirteen was also absent, but this was because he had left her in Harry's room to monitor the teen and to do the ketone urine test they had been planning to run before the Death Eater's had crashed their party at St. Mungo's, so right now she was either in the pathology lab or Harry's magically expanded ICU room.

Not to mention, he wanted to cut Thirteen as much slack as he could without it being considered pity. Having to leave London while her friend and boyfriend were still missing was hard for her to do, but not only was she safer here, but like the rest of them, she was next to useless at Grimmauld Place.

So, he was left with Cameron and Wilson for a team. Cameron, who hadn't been on a diagnostic team in over two years and was used to treating bruises, scrapes, and broken bones, and Wilson, who had never been on a diagnostic team, and wasn't used to treating patients with hair and who he couldn't fix with platitudes, wishful thinking, and hand holding.

Well, the odds weren't exactly in their favor, but that was just something he would have to deal with. Hopefully the looming threat of the end of the world would motivate them enough to not screw this one up. Right now, they were waiting for the results of the ketone test, but they were also kicking around other ideas.

"Meningitis?" Cameron supplied halfheartedly. They were really running out of ideas here. With the endless and monotonous test running of the day before, they had eliminated many possibilities already. Add in the fact that they were all a few minutes away from passing out, and it wasn't exactly a recipe for diagnostic success.

"He'd be dead by now," House muttered in response, blinking his eyes several times to try and clear away the haze. He leaned heavily on his cane, and he slipped his orange pill bottle out of his pocket, dumping two vicodin into his waiting hand. He tossed them into his mouth, dry swallowing them, and hoping they would do something to alleviate his leg pain.

"You've said to that last five or six things she's said," Moody said from where he hovered in the corner. Snape was in Harry's room with Hermione, Ron, and the twins, a total of three guards watching the room. Moody's presence hadn't annoyed him, as the older man had remained generally silent during the differential. Moody was probably feeling how House had felt while the Order had talked about Horcruxes.

"That's because it's true." The most puzzling thing about this entire situation was the slow progression of Harry's symptoms. If this has been a more sudden and fast moving illness, it would have made diagnosing the teenage wizard significantly easier.

"We're not getting anywhere, House," Wilson sighed. "We're focusing too much on the seizures and coma. He had two allergies, and wizards are supposed to have stronger immune systems than normal people."

"Oh, I'm sorry, did you miss the part where we already went through this?" House snapped, turning to his best friend and away from the white board. Wilson opened his mouth to respond, but was interrupted by the glass door to the differential room opening.

Thirteen stepped through, her movements seeming tired, and he saw the fatigue reflected in her that he himself felt. Ironically, they all had jet lag from the five hour time difference, having left London at roughly eight, and then within a span of seconds being in America at one in the morning.

Now it was roughly two thirty, and all any of them wanted to do was sleep.

"Please tell me that he's got ketoacidosis," House said, looking at the younger doctor. Thirteen sighed and shook her head.

"Urine was negative. We're back to square one," Thirteen responded, coming in and sitting down next to Cameron. "Listen, the problem I think we're having here is that we're treating Harry like a normal human being-"

"Well, that sounded racist," House interjected sarcastically, but Thirteen continued on as if she hadn't heard him.

"Moody, wizard and Muggle anatomies are different, right? How different?" Thirteen asked, directing the question towards the grizzled Auror.

"You'd have to ask a Healer. From what I know, our bodies are naturally hardier than Muggles. Bruises, broken bones, and cuts heal faster, we're not prone to non-magical diseases," Moody provided, taking a long sip from his flask as he did so.

"So, maybe the reason that this disease isn't progressing faster is because Harry is a wizard, and his immune system, even when weakened, is still much stronger than the normal human's," Thirteen explained, seeming to have a genuine idea and running with it. It's about time somebody had something.

"So you're saying we shouldn't consider the progression of the symptoms in the differential?" Cameron asked slowly, catching on to Thirteen's train of thought.

"Yes. There's tons of possibilities that are opened up if we stop focusing on how slow the illness is going," Thirteen reasoned. Wilson nodded, looking at him.

"She's got a point, House," Wilson said, and House had to admit, he was right.

"Alright, spotlight's on you, Thirteen - what are the possibilities if we rule out progressions and rule in the fact that he's magic?" House asked, focusing on the internist.

"Hypoglycemia," Thirteen suggested, folding her hands together on the table. He was glad that the case was at least providing her with a temporary distraction. "Explains the coma, imbalance of the hormones explains the petit mal seizures he's been experiencing."

"I doubt it," Cameron said, setting her glasses on the bridge of her nose and perusing Harry's chart, which House had done from memory, since they had been forced to leave all of their materials at St. Mungo's. "The types of seizures he's having aren't typical of hypoglycemia."

"Renal failure?" Wilson suggested. "Coma and seizures is known to be a symptom of both chronic and acute renal failure."

"No," House said, twirling his cane as his eyes went out of focus, his mind whirring faster than it had been all night. "Last tests show that his creatinine levels are normal."

"Do you have any better ideas?" Wilson asked, seeming exasperated.

"Well duh," was House's response. He paused. "Give me a second here. Someone else say something stupid to pass the time."

"Viral encephalitis could explain his symptoms. If his immune system is still fairly strong, it can explain the lack of fever," Thirteen offered. House shook his head.

"Would've showed up on the MRI," House replied. "But you may be on to something..." he trailed off. "Bickerstaff's Brainstem Encephalitis. It explains everything. It's neurological, but it's known to compromise the immune system as well. He started out with a particularly strong immune system, and the BBE brought it down to just below normal for a wizard, which is just above normal for a wizard, giving him the sudden onset of allergies."

There was a short pause as everyone in the room considered the idea.

"We should run his CSF and urine for BBE," Cameron said resolutely. "We could have the results by tomorrow morning and start Harry on treatment."

"I'll run the LP and urine test," Wilson said, standing up. House could tell that his friend was getting restless. All of them were getting restless. There had been a lot of sitting and waiting the past few days, although House would take that over being attacked by Death Eaters.

"Someone's feeling generous," House said, running a hand through his hair. God, I need sleep.

"Take one of the twins with you when you go down to the lab," Moody growled. "None of you should be heading anywhere alone."

"I'll make sure to tell you when I need to use the bathroom," House said mordantly. "Get going. The faster we start treatment the better, but it's too risky starting treatment before we've confirmed."

This drew three very concerned looks from Cameron, Wilson, and Thirteen.

"Since when have you ever cared about risk?" Thirteen asked. House sighed, realizing they had thought they had just caught him caring.

"Since we started treating apparently the world's only hope for survival," House muttered, pinching the bridge of his nose. "Wilson. LP. Go."

"Going," Wilson said, holding up his hands in what he supposed was a calming gesture before heading out the door. Moody surveyed the three of them that remained with his magical eye, which House could have sworn he detected a disapproving look in the blue iris.

"You're all about to collapse," he pointed out. "Sleep. You said the test results won't be back until the morning."

"I don't suppose we can go home?" House asked tiredly, already knowing the answer.

"No. Not safe. You need to stay in the hospital, preferably together," Moody responded with a shake of his head. House sighed, moving into his office.

"I call the recliner. Anyone who suggests otherwise is getting smacked over the head with my cane," House threatened as he pressed into his office. As the glass door shut behind him, he saw Cameron heading out of the office to the nearby supply closet where a few spare blankets were kept.

Thirteen walked into House's office, glancing around at the various options of places to sleep, finally deciding on the chair at House's desk. She sank down, closed her eyes, and within a few seconds her eyes had drooped clothes, forcing House to suppress a snort.

Moody settled himself down at the differential table, seeming to make sure that they were all still in his direct line of sight (though he suspected the magical eye could probably see through walls) as Cameron headed into House's office, blankets cradled in her arms. When she made to move towards him and offer him one, he waved her off.

"I'm fine," he said, crossing his arms after leaning his cane against the side of his chair. She hesitated before nodding slightly, heading over and lightly draping a blanket over Thirteen while she slept. "Now kiss her on the cheek..." House suggested, smirking slightly at the dirty look Cameron threw him.

"Goodnight, House," she said as she pulled the blinds to block out the light from the security lights left on in the outer hallway. She then laid her blanket down on the floor and used the extra one he had declined to cover herself.

He toyed with the idea of not responding, but then changed his mind.

"Goodnight, Cameron," he said quietly before closing his eyes and willing his leg to stop it's incessant throbbing long enough for him to sleep.

Wilson walked into Harry's ICU room after doing the correct amount of knocks.

"Everything still okay in here?" Wilson asked, directing the question to everyone currently in the room. Fred and George were seated on the loveseat off to the side, while Ron and Hermione sat on either side of Harry's bed. Snape hovered in the corner, looking thoroughly displeased with his current position as guard.

"Nothing has changed," Snape replied shortly, looking at Wilson like he was something unpleasant that had been dragged in by the cat.

"He seems the same, Dr. Wilson," Hermione said with a frown. "Are you going to run more tests on him?"

"Yes," Wilson responded, heading towards Harry. "We think that Harry has a disease called Bickerstaff's Brainstem Encephalitis. We need to run the fluid in his spine so we can confirm, and then we can start treating Harry and hopefully get him out of this coma," Wilson explained. "I'm going to need to do something called a lumbar puncture. Now, we can't really get any nurses in here, so can one of you hold Harry's knees to his chest while I do this?"

"I will," Ron volunteered, standing up in his chair. When Wilson removed the large needle he had stowed in his pocket, he heard the twins say "Cool!" at the same time, and saw Ron pale visibly at the sight of it. "Um, Harry can't feel that, right?"

"No, no, Harry won't be able to feel this," Wilson assured him as he moved to the young boy's back, shimmying up the hospital robe to reveal his spine. He didn't like the look of how thin Harry was getting, and decided that they didn't wake him from his coma soon they'd need to add extra nutrients to his feeding tube regimen.

Ron dutifully pressed Harry's knees to his chest and held him still while Wilson palpated the proper vertebrae and carefully inserted the needle. He heard Hermione gulp behind him, and he was fairly sure the witch had turned away to avoid watching.

"Good thing Ginny's not here, she'd have fainted by now," George commented from behind him. Wilson almost winced as he remembered the furious argument between Ginny and her parents as they had a shouting match to affirm the fact that Ginny was staying at Grimmauld place where it was safe, no matter what she had to say on the matter.

"Or vomited," Fred added.

"Or both," they said together. Wilson would have smiled, but withdrawing spinal fluid from someone's body always seemed to put a damper on amusement. He slowly removed the needle, then nodded to Ron that he could release Harry's legs and lay him back down.

Wilson then went about collecting a urine sample from Harry's catheter bag, then looked at Fred and George before heading out. He really didn't feel like having to be escorted around his own workplace by a teenager, but he decided that now would be a good time to take Moody's advice, what with the recent events of the past few days.

"Fred, George, one of you mind tagging along with me to the lab?" Wilson inquired, glancing between the redheaded twins. The brothers looked at each other.

"Shall I leave this one to you, Fred?" George asked, raising an eyebrow at his twin. Fred nodded.

"Alright then." He stood up and headed to the door with Wilson. "Be back in a jiff."

Wilson and Fred departed Harry's ICU room, making their way down the hallway to Pathology. Wilson hoped it would be late enough at night that no one else would be down there, otherwise he would be asked some no doubt awkward questions about why he had a teenager without a visitor's pass tailing him around the hospital. Doing anything tomorrow during the day was going to be a definite challenge, and it was likely that he and House would have to tell Cuddy something to get her to give them and their temporary guards free reign in the hospital.

They arrived in the lab, and Wilson was relieved to see that it was empty as he had hoped. He pushed through the glass doors and made his way over to he nearest lab table to test Harry's CSF and urine sample. Fred hovered slightly behind him, looking around in slack jawed amazement. Wilson smirked at him.

"Pretty cool, right?" he asked.

"I reckon Dad's right, Muggles really are ingenious..." Fred paced around the lab, taking in all of the equipment that he would have never even dreamed of in the wizarding world. "What the bloody hell does all of this do?"

"Well..." Wilson began, having a feeling this was going to be an even longer night.

House was awoken by the sounds of quiet, almost indiscernible sobs. He reluctantly opened his eyes, glancing at his watch. He had slept for roughly an hour. Looking up, he saw Thirteen was still dozing in his office chair, head lolling to the side and mouth slightly open. House made a mental note to make fun of her for drooling when she awoke.

Then he looked down on the ground, and saw Cameron curled up nearby, blankets twisted around her legs. His eyes widened, and he silently moved from his Eames chair, grabbing his cane as he kneeled next to Cameron the ground, wincing as a jolt of pain shot up his thigh.

Right now, he couldn't tell if Cameron was having a nightmare or crying when she thought no one was listening. House knew that Cameron had grown into a strong person, so he highly doubted it was the latter. He leaned over her just enough to see that both her eyes were closed. It appeared she was indeed having a nightmare.

He put a gentle hand on her shoulder. Not wanting to wake Thirteen by speaking, he simply slowly shook Cameron, hoping to wake her up without startling her too badly. Unfortunately, he failed to do so. Cameron's cerulean eyes split open, and she took in a sharp intake of breath and jumped, nearly knocking him off his balance. Tear tracks shown on her face, and her eyes were bloodshot.

She looked confused for a long moment before looking up at House and touching a hand to her own face, no doubt feeling the dampness there. "Damn it," she whispered, turning on her side and away from him.

Oh God. Emotions. One thing he was not adept at was dealing with people who were in fragile emotional states. Especially when it was Cameron of all people, who his relationship with was weird to say the least. What was he supposed to do? Hug her? Say something comforting? Oh, fuck it. He sat hard on the ground, leaning his head back against the wall in a position where he could see the profile of Cameron's face.

"Go back to sleep, House," she murmured, seeming furious at herself.

"You were having a nightmare."

"I'm not talking about this," she said, refusing to look at him. House continued to eye her in the dim light, watching as Cameron closed her eyes. He didn't know if she was trying to avoid him or if she had fallen back asleep.

He considered going back to his recliner, but something stopped him. Later he would say that it was his leg and fatigue lulling him to sleep before he had the chance to get back in his chair, but if he was being honest with himself, the sleeping mass next to him definitely played a role.