This chapter isn't in Harry's POV. It's in a general POV! Next chapter will be back to normal.

Burdens of a Champion

Patronusmagic

Jamie managed to hold on past his one week prognosis. It seemed Harry's hope speech had done the trick. And even though Harry currently lay in a hospital bed, under heavy sedation, little Jamie seemed to become stronger. People came to visit Harry on a numerous occasions, but all failed to get a response out of the still sleeping boy.

Wires and tubes criss-crossed his body, and tubes snaked in and out of his veins, desperately pumping lifesaving medicine in and out of his fragile body. The room had been cooled in a desperate attempt to cool his sky-rocketing temperature and a healer was to be present at all times, should he suffer a seizure or allergic reaction to the medicines.

Remus sat by his beside, looking older than he ever had. Harry's health scare had been the worst yet, and Remus knew that they would get worse as Harry's time became shorter. Thought Healer Smith had assured the worried werewolf, that Harry would be able to live out the rest of his life in relative normalcy, the episodes would become more frequent and more severe as his time came nearer.

It broke Remus' heart to see Harry like this. From the moment that he met him in Harry's third year, Remus promised to protect the young boy no matter what it took. Seeing him so helpless, his body being taken over by an evil entity such as cancer was almost too much to bear. Remus just wanted to take on Harry's cancer himself, to take away his pain, but he knew that it couldn't happen. There was no such spell in existence – and even if there were, it would surely damage Harry's weakened body beyond repair.

His cheeks had sunk in to the point that he almost looked like a corpse. Small, blueberry spots had developed all over his skin, and his black hair was plastered to his head. Despite the tube feeding oxygen into his damaged lungs, Harry's breathing was still laboured, and despite Healer Smiths assurances that Harry felt no pain – Remus couldn't help but to stifle a sob every time Harry whimpered in his sedative induced sleep.

It had been discovered that Harry's cancer had spread further, taking up residence in his lungs and liver. The medicine dosage had been almost tripled, the most that Healer Smith could do without causing liver toxicity, and he had been signed up for a new wizard drug trial that could possibly buy Harry another three years.

Remus had been hesitant, and asked for more time to think. This drug trial could also shorten Harry's life dramatically should it go wrong. He didn't know if he could take the risk. His tortured thoughts were interrupted by Healer Smith, who had just entered, and was looking deeply sad. Her eyes found Harry's prone form on the bed, and they dulled two shades to a deep, murky brown. It seemed that she had lost a lot of weight since Harry's last visit. Not that Remus could blame her, it must be an awful thing having to care for terminally ill children, to develop a bond, and then they just die. He couldn't do it for all the tea in China.

"Hello, Mr Lupin. How is Harry," Healer Smith said, coming into the room and shutting the door with a soft knock.

Remus gestured to the bed wordlessly, where Harry lay, frowning in his sleep. It perhaps, would have been reassuring to see the rise and fall of his chest, were it not for the tube that was helping him breathe. Sirius had been sent home hours ago, with a worried Jenna, and a restless Jamie (Who had not been allowed to see Harry, for fear of the tubes coming in and out of his broken body scaring the young child). Now it was just Harry and Remus, and the occasional healer in this big, cold hospital that smelt like disinfectant and cabbage, with a slight hint of healing magic.

"Have you given any thought on that drug trial yet?" said Healer Smith, setting the papers in her lap and frowning slightly at Remus, who had a haggard, worried expression on his prematurely ageing face.

Remus sighed and ran his hands up and down his face. Tortured amber eyes met brown and he slowly nodded. "A bit – I mean – I didn't really give you a chance to explain."

Healer Smith smiled kindly and sat up straighter in her chair. She seemed to grow as she told Remus about the drug trial, and how it would work.

"The drug trial has recently been developed by highly skilled potioneers, it is said – if it is to work – that the drug can stop cancer growth by half, and even kill off already developed cancer cells. Like any drug, there are risks, and rather excruciating side effects. It could cause his cancer to multiply quite drastically, but there is a chance – albeit a slim one – that this could work for Harry. There's also the chance that Harry will be given the placebo. Are you willing to take the risk?"

Remus didn't know what to say. So Harry could die anyway? It seemed like a lot of trouble, just to buy him another couple of years. But what if it worked, what if Harry was one of the few that the trial would work for – and he could finally beat cancer. Beating the disease, after being handed a death sentence would be a miracle indeed.

"Shouldn't Harry have a say in this? I mean, it's his body! I don't want to go making rash decisions when he might not want this."

Healer Smith shook her head fiercely, her plaits bobbing merrily on her shoulder. Her cheeks were flushed, and for the first time, a new light had entered her eyes. She gave Remus a matronly smile, that reminded him forcefully of Professor Sprout.

"Not at all, my dear boy. It is, of course, Harry's decision. I can't recommend or dissuade this trial! We shall ask Harry when he wakes up and is well enough."

Remus sighed and ran his hands through his hair again, rocking agitatedly on his chair again. "When will Harry wake up?"

He tried to hide the desperation in his voice, but from the sympathetic look on Healer Smiths face, it was quite clear that he failed miserably. Harry had been asleep for a good two days now, and still showed no sign of waking. Healer Smith had been confused when Harry had gone into this coma, she ran test after test and concluded that a combination of the fever and Harry's magic going haywire as the cancer spread, had resulted in his period of unconsciousness.

He had full brain activity, and his neural functions were in full working order. There had been no growths on his brains – the healers just couldn't explain why the young boy still slept.

"I honestly don't know, dear," Healer Smith sighed sadly, coming to stand to her feet. "He shouldn't still be sleeping. But – and I hate to say this – perhaps you should prepare yourself for the fact that he may never wake up?"

Remus felt a flare of anger within him and he stood up, allowing the chair to fall to the floor with a clatter. Healer Smith winced and backed away slightly. He immediately felt guilty.

"How can you say that? You said that he had at least two years!"

Remus fought to contain his breathing as Healer Smith opened the ward door and stared sadly at the sleeping boy on the bed. "We all make mistakes, dear."

She turned and left the room, dabbing at her eyes and leaving Remus feeling guiltier than ever.

"Oh, Harry. What are we going to do with you, hmm?"

Sirius stroked Harry's hair softly, gazing sadly at his ashen face. Sirius prided himself on his stiff upper lip and strong control on his emotions – but watching his godson so helpless, surrounded by all these wires that were trying to keep him alive, Sirius wanted nothing more than to curl into a ball and cry.

Harry's fever had gone down overnight, but it was still dangerously high. After ordering Remus to go home, shower and sleep, Sirius had taken up a vigil beside Harry's bedside and stroked the young boys thinning hair, running his fingers gently over his scar. It killed Sirius to see Harry like that, so small and so broken.

Harry was a good kid. He was kind, loyal and always stuck up for what was right. He was a good friend, and good to animals and house elves alike. So why was cancer eating away at his body, reducing him to a mere shell. When Sirius had left Azkaban the only thing that had kept him going, was the fact that he was going to see Harry again, he was going to get to hold him in his arms and protect him from the wrongs of the world.

He had been slightly hurt when he found out that Remus had fostered Harry. He had always promised that he would take care of him, and to see someone else doing it – well it hurt – a lot. Not that he resented Remus. He had taken Harry in, made him safe and given him a home when no one else. He had taken a scared little boy, who had been abused by his relatives and turned him into a strong young man. He would be forever grateful for what Remus had done.

He just wanted to take all Harry's pain away. He wanted to make it okay, he didn't want Harry to hurt. It just wasn't fair! Sirius was supposed to protect him, but he was losing his battle to a Muggle disease! How could fate be so cruel? A bead of sweat trickled down Harry's face and Sirius wiped it away with the cuff of his work robes.

"Hey, mate. I guess you're feeling a little bad right now. I know you're in there, Harry, and I need you to come back real soon all right? You're going to fight this, Harry. Because guess what, I'm going to ask Jenna to marry me, and you're going to be my best man! Jamie's a lot better now, it seems your speech did the trick, now I need you to use those words yourself!

"Ron and Hermione send their love. A certain little lady tried to visit but was stopped by Healer Smith, quite the temper that redhead has, eh, Harry. She reminds me so much of your mother! You're being so brave, mate, I couldn't be more proud of you. Keep on fighting, Mini Marauder, I love you!"

Sirius didn't even bother to stop the tears now. He leant over and placed his hands on Harry's chest as he cried for the first time in fourteen years.

The redhead and curly haired brunette argued in hushed voices as they sat side by side in the chairs by Harry's bed. Hermione had gentle tears making a track down her face, and Ron looked paler than he had ever been. Even when he got Goblin Flu, when he was five. Harry was still breathing with the aid of a tube. But some of the wires had been removed. His condition had improved drastically overnight, but as Healer Smith put it, he wasn't out of the woods yet.

"Hi, mate, it's, er, Ron," Ron rubbed the back of his head awkwardly. "I just wanted to say that, er we miss you, and er, you should wake up real soon. Hermione punched Malfoy again-" Ron chuckled as Hermione glowered at him, "You should have seen it, Harry. It was awesome!"

Ron boxed the air with a grin of victory on his face. Harry's hand twitched in Hermione's, but he made no other indication that he heard his best friend talking. Hermione's eyes widened as she stared down at Harry, but his eyes remained firmly shut. She sighed in disappointment and ran her fingers through his fringe.

"Oh, Harry. I do worry about you," tears started to fall freely down Hermione's face and she let out small sniffles. Harry frowned in his sleep but slumbered on. "You need to wake up, you hear me! I've got to tell you something, and I can't bloody well tell you if you're asleep!"

Ron gasped in mock outrage and slapped a hand to his chest. "Did you hear that, Harry? The great Hermione Granger – swearing? It's an outrage, call the papers, we've got a belter of a story."

"Oh honestly, Ronald. Don't be so immature, bloody is hardly a swearword, it's in the bible." Hermione crossed her arms haughtily over her chest and glared at Ron.

"Smarty pants," Ron pouted, mimicking Hermione's body language. Hermione snorted and fought back a giggle.

They descended into silence and stared at their best friend. They didn't have to say it, but they knew that the same thing was on both of their minds. Would Harry ever wake up again?

Okay, this chapter is sooo sad, but I can promise you that Harry isn't going to die yet! Without giving too much away, I have another sequel planned after this before the series is complete! Thanks as always for the reviews and happy reading!