Chapter 5: Diagnosis
- Note at end -
Harry ducked through Healer Hannah's floo opening into her office after catching his balance, and as expected, his mum as already there, holding a cup of tea. He brushed off his jeans and ran his hands through his hair, glancing around the room. He had left Draco and Hermione behind at home, even though they had both wanted to accompany him. He had insisted he would be fine with Mum and would see them in a bit. He hope he would be fine. Fine, the word Hermione did not think he used correctly, although he argued that she didn't, either.
"Hello, mum. Am I on time?"
Tara chuckled into her cup, and Harry smirked at her.
"Yes, you are, joonam. Hannah should return in a moment. Take a seat," she said, gesturing to the chair beside her.
"Hermione didn't want me to leave on such short notice. She was helping me plan all of my study schedules for the next two years, and I know that it is very helpful, but I just need some time to myself." He sat on a chair beside his mum, dropping down quickly. He was quite sore but did not want to complain as it was a bit better than usual. He would talk about it when this new doctor would likely ask.
"That's Hermione," Tara said with a laugh, but her expression turned more serious. "I will have a talk with her about not pressuring you so much. You each have your own learning styles, and she really ought to know that by now. Harry joon, if you want to wait on your A-levels until you are done with Hogwarts, that would also be perfectly acceptable. Hermione knows this, too."
"I will think on it," Harry said. "I just feel so unwell at times that it's good to have a schedule. I know she really doesn't care for me being the Quidditch captain this year. Draco and I were discussing strategy, although I can't give up any of our ideas as he is enemy captain. Mione doesn't think I am being serious enough about school. I am, but I also love being Quidditch captain. And I can't give up the freedom of flight."
"I understand, joon. We shall see what Dr. Wells has to say. He is a squib, although once he learned how I developed my magic relatively recently, he said that he wishes to be tested for magic! Hannah would be willing to test him, or we could send him to see Luna, although he already does his own kind of magic as a geneticist. He has agreed to come because he would also like to study magic genetics. It does sound very interesting, even though pure genetics is not my area. Otherwise, I might already know what is going on with my son," his mum said, suddenly sounding discouraged and teary.
Harry leaned over and hugged her, upsetting her tea. She charmed her robes clean, set down her cup, and hugged him in return. They had already determined that he most likely did not have cancer, which Tara had been highly worried about as both a surgeon and Healer. It was relief to him as well. He did not want anything to get in the way of his studies or Quidditch. Or his relationship with Draco. He smiled in a way that looked 'dreamy'.
"Thinking of Draco?" Tara asked softly when they parted and saw the relaxed smile on his face.
"Yeah," he replied. "I still cannot believe we're together"
"He really enjoyed going to the cinema. I suggest that you ask him on a cinema date soon. Just the two of you."
"How do you know?"
"He told me the other day while he was waiting for you to leave the loo."
"I – " his response was cut off by the opening of the office door. He stood up painfully as his residual limb had chosen this moment act up, and then there was the strange numbness in his other leg. His mum grabbed his arm to help steady him.
Dr. Wells stuck out his hand to greet them with handshakes.
"It is an honour to meet you both," he said in a pleasant, rich voice. "Healer Shayani, I have heard of your work combining muggle medicine and magic. I do hope we will have the opportunity to work together one day."
"Yes, that would be very agreeable, Dr. Wells," Tara replied graciously. Harry knew that his mum would highly enjoy the opportunity.
"And you must be young Mr. Potter-Granger. A pleasure to meet you!"
"Dr. Wells, if you don't mind, please call me Harry," he said. He knew he was still famous mostly for what he managed to do as a toddler. No one other than those involved knew the details of the ultimate demise of Voldemort back when he was eleven years old, about which he was still quite happy. A few had tried to find out what happened, including Daily Prophet writer Rita Skeeter. His mum and Hermione gave her notice from a well-known magical attorney.
Healer Hannah rushed in behind Dr. Wells through the door, looking rather flustered.
"I am sorry that I am late. A patient needed to talk. You know how it is, I am sure, Dr. Wells."
"No problem. I have made my acquaintance with Healer Shayani and Harry."
"Perfect," Hannah said as she offered Dr. Wells a chair and then sat down herself behind her desk. "I showed Dr. Wells around St. Mungo's earlier today, Tara, and he would like to work with us on other projects after we, hopefully, have some answers for Harry. Harry, I sent Dr. Wells your case file, so that he might study it and see if he has any ideas as to what the issue may be. We know it is not a magical malady, although Dr. Wells became a geneticist in part because of issues of procreation in pureblood families, and the general lack of successful pregnancies, except for one family we all know. We know that some of the symptoms Harry has been experiencing can be improved upon with potions and physiotherapy –"
"Sometimes improved with physio," Harry interrupted softly. "Not all the time. Although, I usually feel fine when flying and playing quidditch, but hurt afterward."
"Yes, thank you for the clarification, Harry," Hannah said with a brief smile. "I invite you to share any thoughts you might have, Dr. Wells?"
"Thank you, yes, I would like to examine Harry to see if my theory is correct, but first, I shall explain what I suspect is the issue. Based on the files you sent, I believe Harry has a genetic condition called Ehlers-Danlos Syndrome, or EDS for short. It is a form of connective tissue disorder. Harry, it can affect your joints, skin, tendons, ligaments, and even blood vessels. Do you know if either of your biological parents might have had it?"
Harry stared at the geneticist questioningly and then shook his head. "I don't know. They died when I was little."
"I didn't think of EDS," Tara whispered. "Of course, it makes sense."
"We didn't learn much about it in medical school." Dr. Wells tried to console her. "There are different forms of it, and even in muggle medicine, we do not know all the genes as yet for EDS. It makes it more difficult to diagnose, except that I believe Harry's form to be hypermobile, also known as type three*. It is usually passed down in families. Classical EDS is also a very distinct possibility. There are hidden cases in some of the pureblood families that I have been able to uncover. It is possibly one of the reasons that purebloods tend to have failed pregnancies, including , quite possibly, the Potter family."
"It could be from my father, I reckon" Harry said, thinking of all the stories Sirius and Remus had told him about their days with James at Hogwarts and the Marauders' adventures. "My godfather said my father was hurt a lot, although usually a night in the hospital wing with Madam Pomfrey, and he was fine. Is this really something wizards can have?"
"It is something you are born with in your genes, although we don't know the exact genes yet. Genetics has a long way to go yet. I don't see a reason why wizards can't have it," Dr. Wells said with a considering look on his face. "I have found a few cases, as I said. I am from a pureblood family, but I did not get invited to Hogwarts as a squib."
"There's no potion to cure it or anything?" Harry asked in a choked voice. He didn't even know the details of this. . . thing. Would he have to quit quidditch? Quit school? Would he die? Would it be an easy death? Or torturous? What about Draco, Hermione, and his friends? Mum and Dad? Why didn't he die as a baby if this can affect pregnancies? He drew in shorter and shallower breaths.
"Harry," Healer Hannah answered. "Look at me." She recognized Harry was heading directly into panic.
"Breathe, Harry," she directed. "Nice slow deep breaths." He closed his eyes, trying to concentrate on drawing slower breaths. Besides if he were going to die, they would not all be so calm, particularly his mum. This thought helped him immediately.
"You are not going to die from this, Harry joon," his mum said, holding his hand.
"No?" he rasped while nearly clawing at his mum's hand.
"No," Dr. Wells agreed. After a few more slow breaths, Harry looked up at the adult figures in the office, and glanced at them all, his face sagging with relief. None of them were lying to him. He released the grip on his mum's hand.
"Sorry," he whispered, face flushing. "I panicked."
"Harry, you might be glad to know that anxiety can be caused by EDS. You have more reasons beyond your past experiences to have developed anxiety and panic issues. However, let's examine you and see if my theory is correct. Then we will talk about where to go from here, alright, Harry?"
Harry nodded, and took a few deep, calming breaths. It had been a while since his panic had run this rampant. After a bit, his mum led him to the examination room.
_
After a long conversation, and many questions, Harry returned home through the floo three hours after he had left. Draco was still there with Hermione, although it appeared they had prepared some food. He was not sure he was hungry, but he would eat if it would make them happy.
"Harry! How are you?" Hermione exclaimed as she gave him a quick hug. "What did you find out?"
Draco came over to give Harry a hug, too, which he was even more grateful for. He enjoyed the comfort Draco provided. Not to put Hermione down, but Draco's hugs were far better.
After helping Harry over to a chair, Draco repeated Hermione's question. Harry moaned, and put his head on his arms on the table.
"I'm fine," he finally mumbled in a voice he knew sounded very not fine. "I'm not dying."
"Brilliant," Hermione said with a hint of sarcasm tingeing her tone, as she had already dismissed the possibility. Luna might have told them if that was the case. "Are you fine in that there is nothing wrong, or fine only because you are not dying?"
"Hermione, don't you think you should be a bit kinder with your brother?" Draco asked with a pretence of seriousness. "He's just so cute, isn't he? I, for one, am happy you are not dying, love." He ran his hand over Harry's back, to help calm him. Harry reached into his pocket for some pamphlets he had jammed in and thrust them toward Hermione.
"Here," he said, still mumbling into his arms.
"This is muggle information," Hermione commented, eagerly reading as she spoke. "This is what you have? Ehlers-Danlos Syndrome?"
"Yeah, and Mum doesn't even know much about it," Harry said, finally lifting his head, and settled back into Draco's arms. "It's a connective tissue disorder that makes joints go odd, and tendons and ligaments go bad. And affects muscles because muscles are overused keeping everything held together. It can affect anything in my body that's made up of connective tissue - collagen and such. There's no cure in either the muggle or magical world. It's considered rare. It can cause anxiety and autonomic issues."
"How did you acquire it?" Draco asked softly. "What are autonomic issues?"
"One or both of my parents – biological parents – had it. Or I had a genetic mutation when my mother was expecting me. I think it was maybe my father who might have had it. That's what Dr. Wells thinks, too," he said.
"Your father was a pureblood," Draco said. "I haven't heard of it in other wizarding families before, but perhaps we just never knew about it. Many things get hidden as you know."
"I think so. Dr. Wells plans to study this in wizarding families." Harry replied. "This is why now I am even more determined to become both a Healer and a muggle physician so I can research and help heal people." Even if it took him extra time.
"I don't know what I want to do yet. I like Potions the most, you know, and I could help you with your research. Snape and your mum are trying to come up with better tasting potions, and I would like to try my hand at it, too." Draco nearly seemed shy as he spoke, as if he couldn't dare to hope that he would still be with Harry in the future. Harry finally felt like smiling, and nuzzled Draco's neck with his lips.
"There is the autonomic nervous system. It is different from the regular nervous system. It is why I can't regulate my temperature, sometimes, and maybe why I feel different. The autonomic nervous system controls all sorts of things to keep our bodies working."
"Harry, did Dr. Wells do joint hypermobility testing on you?" Hermione asked in her I'm-excited-and-want-to-know-more-so-let's-speak-very-quickly manner, looking up from a pamphlet.
"Yes. I can place my hands on the floor without bending my knees. My real knee hyperextends, just a bit but enough. I can hyperextend other joints, too. My elbows are almost 'normal', though. He said that because my prosthetic is magical and has so many runes and charms, it cannot mimic right my right leg and go backwards, which is a very good thing as then it would be useless in helping my balance. EDS also explains why I get so tired and have so much pain," Harry said in a rush to get it all out. "My residual limb takes a lot as does my right leg in holding me up sometimes. It can explain my muscle spasms."
"That is my goal in life," Draco announced suddenly. "Find a cure for this, love. Just for you." He tenderly kissed Harry's cheek. "I will become a Potions Master and then Healer training."
"If our mum doesn't find it first," Hermione commented, still studying the pamphlet and ignoring the two boys. "It is more often diagnosed in women than in men." Harry grunted, and nuzzled Draco a bit more.
"Is soft skin a symptom?" Draco purred, thinking he was being humorous, but was a bit shocked when Harry replied in the affirmative.
"There are so many signs and symptoms, I don't even know them all. I don't have all of them, but some of them. I can develop more as I get older. Unless you do find a cure, it will always be a part of me."
"What will happen now?" Hermione and Draco asked at nearly the same time. Harry looked at them both, a weariness they had not seen on his face for quite some time. He looked exhausted.
"More physio. Perhaps physio forever. Pain potions, or muggle medications if needed. It will be like it has been. Some days I might need to sleep and take pain potions, and other days I will feel fine. I need to use my sticks more. I am used to my sticks, even when wearing my leg, if I am tiring myself out too much, so I don't fall. No more falling. If I get a falling prevention charm put on myself, then I won't be able to work on wandless magic."
"You have fallen a few times this summer," Hermione commented. "It has worried me."
"Yeah, but the falls weren't too bad, were they?"
"I know you are in pain more than you let on, Harry love," Draco observed. "Even now."
"Cuddling some more would help," Harry replied with a tired smile. Hermione finally gave in and rolled her eyes, before going back to her serious mode.
"I am sure Minerva will allow you to use the lift at Hogwarts if it will help," she said.
"I don't like to admit it, but yeah, it will help to get some places. Won't help getting up within Gryffindor tower. I may get a leg brace like yours, Mione. For when I might need it for my ankle or knee."
"Oh." For once, Hermione was not sure how to respond. Harry knew she had mixed feelings about it herself.
"Quidditch?" Draco suddenly asked, a frown flickering across his face. "Will you be able to be Captain? I am looking forward to our friendly rivalry, love."
Harry felt his largest smile spread out across his face. He could not help feeling happy about this. "Yes! I will captain the Gryffindor team, and play Seeker, provided I don't push myself too hard and I take some extra precautions. I love flying and I can't give it up! It feels so freeing." He turned to Draco. "Don't think that means you'll defeat us!"
"Wouldn't dream of it!" A grin on Draco's face and the glint in his eye let Harry know that they were good.
"What if it gets worse?" Hermione huffed, a concerned expression gracing her face. "If there is no cure, then I assume it will get worse." At that moment, Harry recognised that she was worried for him, anxious for him, and he would not mind letting out more of his anxiety over the situation but decided that he should look like he was not as anxious as he really was.
"Honestly, if it gets worse, I may need to use a wheelchair sometimes. Not all the time, but just when I feel I need it. Healer Hannah promised a magical, levitating one if the time comes."
"Oh, Harry," Hermione said sorrowfully, which Harry did not like. "That's –"
"It won't be as bad as you think," he replied quickly. "Really. If I run out of energy and I have half a day of classes left, what am I to do?" Indeed, right now, the idea did not sound half-bad.
"Whatever you want to do," Draco murmured into his ear, "I will support you. You will look even hotter with a wheelchair. Hotter Potter!"
"Er, Draco -"
"You love me, Harry."
"Yes, and you love me. It's still weird to be called 'hot'."
"Boys! Keep it for when you are alone," Hermione interjected. "Let us eat now. Dad will be home shortly. I assure you both, I will do research." With this, she rose from her seat to retrieve dishes and cutlery. Draco hugged Harry again, and got up to help Hermione, shooting smouldering glances back at Harry.
Harry sat quietly, and put his hands out, ready to catch his sticks before they hit the table. He hoped this would distract the others for the meal, but Hermione would most likely not let the subject of EDS drop, not until she had researched all information possible. It would be days. Or months. Fortunately, they were going back to Hogwarts in a week. He, personally, had so much to try to wrap his mind around. It was easier, five years before, to accept the loss of his left leg, and that he was a wizard. This was different. Perhaps because this disorder could kind of come and go? It was very uncertain.
Three days later, Harry and Hermione invited their friends, including Dudley, over to their house for a small back to school party. It was a good distraction for Harry in particular. The day before he had been rather morose, and by late afternoon, he owled his Mind Healer for an "emergency" session. His Mind Healer was under magical agreement that they could not share anything Harry shared with them. A day out on the town, so to speak, with Draco, the day after his diagnosis had helped, but the following day he had just wanted to stay in bed.
Pansy arrived this time with Blaise, whom she had invited over with Hermione's blessings. Draco had selected the film choice for the day, which everyone had agreed to, and they sat around snacking and talking. Blaise seemed to fit in with the group nicely, and Harry wondered why they had not gathered in a big group like this last summer. Upon reflection, he realized last summer was entirely different. Their family had done more travelling, he and Hermione were busy studying for both exams they had to take, and then, Harry was very confused over what he was feeling personally. This summer was entirely different.
Later in the afternoon, the weather had cleared a bit from the drizzle earlier in the day, and Harry wanted to fly. His suggestion to open the portable Quidditch pitch was met with agreement, and although it was not Hermione's favourite activity, she knew it was good for her brother's attitude and mental health.
-
Harry awoke the morning of 1 September feeling ambivalent about the return to Hogwarts. Certainly, he would be happy to be back with all his friends, back to their studies, Quidditch, his relationship with Draco, and the excitement of Dudley being Sorted. Things could not be better, really, but there was still the feeling of this new condition (new although he had apparently always had it) haunting his thoughts almost all the time. His back and both of his hips now gave him nearly unbearable pain, but regular low doses of pain-relieving potions helped most of the time, with some paracetamol now and then. Mum had said that it was partially caused by the fact that he was still growing, but also because he experienced subluxation (partial dislocation) in some of his joints (his hips, knee, and ankle.) Magic couldn't really prevent this from happening, although it could help the recovery period a bit. Muggles didn't have magic to assist with recovery, so he was fortunate in that way. He rather hated having to use his sticks so often now and dreaded using them at Hogwarts. He had not needed to use them on a regular basis since he was a first year and was anxious about what it would look like. What would everyone think? Harry knew he should not worry about what other people think, but he does. Still, it was better than falling. He had done too much of that this summer.
After a quick bath, which greatly relieved his muscles, he dressed in his favourite jeans, t-shirt, and trainers. Even though he had embraced being a wizard, he still loved well-fitting casual muggle clothing. Draco loved it, too, which had surprised Harry at first, because Draco had grown up with wizard fashion, but then he tried some on himself. Draco and Harry had gone shopping in London outside Diagon the day after Harry met Dr. Wells, because Draco wanted muggle clothes, and he thought Harry needed to get away to think about other things, just for fun. Harry had taken a sleeping draught that his mum had given him the night before, and he slept very well, as opposed to anxious insomnia over his diagnosis. It turned out insomnia could be caused by EDS! He had used his sticks that day, and admitted to Draco, when they had arrived back to Harry's home after a visit to the cinema, he would have been done hours before if he had not. In his own mind, but did not share with Draco, he saw that perhaps a wheelchair would have been even better, even for a portion of the time.
He was simply not ready to go there yet.
Even though the Shayani-Granger home had floo access to Hogwarts, they would take the Hogwarts Express, as per tradition. Besides, Hermione, Ron, and Draco were prefects, so they were needed on the train. Harry had turned down the opportunity to be a prefect the previous year. Minerva had asked him how he felt about it, and he suggested that Ron or Neville might like the position instead. Harry was simply too busy with other things to take that on, too. Now, he was quite relieved that he didn't have yet another responsibility. Except to make sure Dudley got to Hogwarts safely.
"Ready, Harry?" his Mum asked as he entered the kitchen, where she was getting herself a cup of tea. She held up the cup. "Want some?"
"Alright," Harry replied, apathetically.
"You are not very positive this morning, joon," Mum commented. "Anxious?" She placed her cup on the breakfast table, and then turned to get Harry his tea. Harry sat down at the table with a sigh and let his sticks on the floor with a thump. He wanted to run a hand through his hair, but he didn't dare. He had combed it and used gel to style it to get it to lay down for Draco.
"Er, yeah, Mum," he said. "I don't know why I am so anxious now. Sixth year, and I should be on top of everything. I am the Quidditch captain, and I need to show I can lead the team. I don't know if I can do that."
"Harry joon, you love that game, you have a written plan for try-outs and the team practices, and you are nearly a master broom flyer. You have the Firebolt Sirius gave you, remember? You are amazing, and you need to have a little more self-confidence. I know this new diagnosis is difficult to digest but try to live your life to the fullest, even with the new parameters. It was what we wanted to you to do when you lost your leg, and you did. Just continue to live your life, and remember, you are not dying." She looked at his empty plate. "Eat some eggs, at least, please."
"Not sure I can eat," he said. He did want to get out of this funk he was in, and he knew that seeing everyone on the train would help a great deal, but right now . . . and he was just supposed to remember he was not dying. "Mum, that is not exactly helpful. No, not dying, but EDS doesn't just go away. Not good bedside manner, Mum." He couldn't help himself, calling her out.
"I'm sorry, you're right, joonam. I'll have to work on it. I can offer you some calming draught. A mild one that will take the edge off for a short time."
"Yes, I'll try it," he agreed. "And I will eat some eggs and toast." She smiled at him and went to fetch the vial from her home lab, returning minutes later in a swish of lime green robes. Hermione followed behind her. Harry had been picking at his toast while debating if he wanted anything on it.
"Please take it now, Harry joon," Tara said. "You will feel better. I will deliver some to Poppy and you can take it any time you might need it."
"Alright, Mum, but you didn't need to wear your St. Mungo's robes to tell me this," he grumbled, half in jest, with a smile trying to come out.
"Mum has work straightaway after Kings Cross!" Hermione said, giggling despite herself, as she tried to be serious at most times. Harry let the rather tired smile spread across his face.
"I know, Mione," he said. He decided on strawberry jam for his toast.
"Do you have everything in your trunk, Harry? I can't wait to begin classes now that we're on NEWT levels! "
"Yes, Mione. I have everything ready, and it will be a relief to take only seven classes this term," Harry said before taking a bite of his toast and then a sip of tea. He eyed his mum in her lime green robes. "Maybe I won't become a Healer, not with those robes. Surely there must be a better shade of green."
"I do take them off before performing any kind of surgery at St. Mungo's. They are just too unwieldy for surgery, of course. I took muggle scrubs to Madam Malkin, and she made me scrubs in lime green! It was the perfect compromise. I keep them at St. Mungo's. I have other Healers asking about getting some."
"Scrubs would be easier for me to walk in."
Their dad stepped in the kitchen, dressed neatly and ready to go. He had taken half a day off from the dental surgery to see them on the train. "Ready, children?"
"I am trying to work up enthusiasm, Dad. Hermione has enough for both of us."
"Well, Harry, it's one of my favourite days of the year! And I cannot wait until Minerva announces the Yule Ball, and the dancing lessons. I know I will have a lot of studying, but that is the best part! I am going to try to study for the A-levels, too, after all." Hermione was bubbly and switched gears back to the dance. "I think I will be able to dance now , but what about you, Harry? We will have to wait and see, I expect. I understand more now that I've read more about EDS, but there is still so much we don't know. However, while I like the knowledge, I do not think I am going to become a Healer. I think Law will be best." She stopped to take a breath.
"Sit, joonam, and have breakfast," Tara said, patting the place next to her. "Take some deep breaths, first."
Hermione did so while Harry worked on finishing his eggs. He did feel slightly better now that he had eaten, and perhaps he would be able to get through the day after all. The worries did not seem quite so large as they had earlier.
_
*EDS used to be categorized by type number. In more recent years, type three EDS is known as hEDS (Hypermobile Ehlers-Danlos syndrome). There are at least 13 subtypes, and perhaps more. hEDS, cEDS (classic), and vEDS (vascular) are the forms that are the least rare. It can take a long, long time for many people to be diagnosed, so perhaps I have taken some liberties here with diagnosis. That's okay. My headcannon! (And wish fulfilment in that I wished I had been diagnosed far sooner. Like, years ago. So many doctors, nurses, PTs, etc, missed it.) I have not done much research to find out what was known about EDS in 1996.