Disclaimer: I don't own the characters or plot to Harry Potter. I know I
know, don't have a heart attack. It is quite shocking I'm sure.
Author's Note: Wow, you guys are so great! I wasn't prepared for the amount of reviews I got for my last chapter. I was so happy I had a solo dance party around the kitchen, singing old rock and roll songs into a banana. Needless to say, there are many people right now who are doubting my sanity.
So as a big thank you to all my wonderful, stupendous reviewers (especially Firemask the faithful!) here's my longest chapter yet. Just to clear a few things up, right now, Harry does have cancer, but he's starting at the beginning. Mr. Stenson was diagnosed in late August and would have died in early January. That was about 4 months. He also said he had it for a few months I'm saying that it was about 2. This gives Harry until about July to live, but I guess you all will just have to see what happens with that. The reason Harry's sick in this chapter is because of the beginning of the chapter, which I'll just let you read, not because of the cancer. He's still at the beginning stages. And remember, the illness might effect Harry slightly differently than Muggles because it mixes strangely with magic.
Alright, well, thank you so much for the reviews! Please do it again!! On with the story!
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"So, sneaking out in the middle of the night to see that family," he spat.
"It was an emergency..." Harry started but was slammed up against the wall by his uncle.
"I was getting worried that you wouldn't make another mistake, that I wouldn't be able to teach you your lesson. When I found you missing I sent the police away. Wouldn't want any reports of domestic disturbance, would we?" he sneered.
"Please, Uncle Vernon, I'm going back to school tomorrow. I'll be gone, out of your..." Harry was interrupted with being backhanded to the floor, splitting the cut on his cheek back open. His uncle stalked over and Harry tried to back away but couldn't seem to get into a standing position quickly enough. A boot connected with his stomach, stunning him. It hit again and again until...
"Vernon?"
With his uncle's foot on his chest pinning him to the floor, Harry looked over to see his Aunt Petunia at the top of the stairs looking sleepy.
"Aunt Petunia, help me, please! Get him off of me! I can't breathe!" His uncle's foot pushed harder on his chest and with the large amount that he weighed, Harry couldn't squirm away no matter how he tried.
"Vernon, the boy is going back to that school tomorrow..." his aunt began.
'Thank you!' Harry's mind screamed. 'She's going to talk some sense into him.'
"...don't mark up his face too much or they'll figure it out. I don't need those people banging on the doors."
Harry's face fell. This couldn't be happening. His uncle looked ready to kill him and his mother's own sister didn't even care.
"What's going on?" Dudley came into view beside his mother. At seeing the scene below, his eyes lit up like it was Christmas again. "Oh boy, can I watch mum? Oh please!"
"No Duddykins, not tonight. A growing boy like you needs his rest and I don't want you to have to see that horrid boy get what's coming to him."
Harry was stunned. Was this some kind of show for them? He knew that his aunt and cousin had known that he had been beaten during the summer, but didn't realize that they actually supported the idea.
After much arguing, Aunt Petunia ushered Dudley back to his room and herself went back to sleep.
'Well I'm glad she can sleep so peacefully while her only nephew is getting murdered,' he thought sarcastically.
Uncle Vernon now turned his attention back to Harry. Hatred was burning in his eyes. His jaw clenched as he put all of his weight on the foot pinning down Harry, grinding it into his chest.
Harry let out a scream of agony as he felt and heard some of his ribs snap. His head swam as he tried to breathe despite the stabbing pains when he inhaled. The pressure was finally released and Harry was forcibly dragged into standing position. He kicked his uncle in the knee and tried to get away but the only result was being thrown into the low glass table in the living room.
When his body hit it, the glass shattered. He felt shards of it digging into his back and felt cuts on the back of head. Harry moaned and tried to sit up but Uncle Vernon grabbed his foot and began dragging him away from the table, causing the glass to be pushed further into his back and cut his skin.
He screamed in agony, kicking out with his free foot at the arms holding his other one, making them eventually let go. He tried to wriggle away but was stopped by several kicks to the chest, connecting with his already broken ribs. Harry couldn't even scream now, just focusing on staying conscious and breathing. He started slipping in and out of consciousness, only vaguely aware of the end of the beating and being dragged back to and thrown into his cupboard, along with the clicking of the lock.
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The next morning, Harry woke up with a fever that had developed during the night, most likely in connection with his injuries. He spent quite a while just trying to stand and make it to the bathroom. He took a shower to clean off the blood that caked his body and hair. He attempted to pick the glass out of his back but he couldn't reach. Each time he tried to maneuver his arm around to grab a piece, pain shot through his whole body. When he finally did get a piece, he realized it hurt less to just keep it in, and he'd worry about it later when he could have pain-relieving potions to help with the task.
He threw away his bloody, torn clothes and pulled on some more of Dudley's old clothes. This covered up all his bodily injuries except for the bruise and cut on his cheek. He was thankful that his hair was so dark as it covered up the cuts and bruises on the back of his head very well. If anyone asked, he could just say that he had gotten into a small fight with Dudley.
He practiced walking around some more, trying to hide any trace of suffering on his face. He went into the kitchen and cooked breakfast as usual, though it was more difficult this time, as he felt so sick. Each movement sent waves of pain shooting through his body. He didn't bother sneaking food for himself as he was already on the verge of throwing up.
As the Dursleys came down, he served them all without a word and they all talked normally. He did have to make sure to dodge Dudley's smelting stick a few times as he was trying to poke at Harry's injuries.
He went to get his stuff together and remembered that he didn't have it. He groaned. It was going to be hard to fool the Stensons since they already knew what was going on and the two females of the family were very huggy, especially when they were happy with Harry. However, there was nothing he could do except try to get in and out as fast as possible.
Harry and his uncle drove to the Stenson's in silence. The only words spoken were when they got there.
"I want you in and out of that house in five minutes or I'm calling the police to say they kidnapped you again, and I assure you I'll have them arrested," he sneered. Harry just nodded and got out of the car.
When Kota answered the door, Harry plastered a smile on his face and hoped it looked real enough. He entered and as he sensed Kota coming to give him a welcoming hug, he started quickly up the stairs.
"Sorry, I don't really have time for hellos. I have only a few minutes to get my stuff before my uncle has you guys arrested."
"Sure Harry, no problem," she said following him into the guest room to help him get his things together. "What happened to your cheek though? It looks worse than last night."
"Yeah I know, Dudley and I got into a bit of a tiff this morning and I think it split back open, the fat git," he said. Kota looked slightly skeptical but stayed silent.
The two walked quickly back downstairs carrying Harry's things, a task quite difficult for Harry, but he disguised it well.
What surprised him was that Uncle Vernon was on the front walk now, having a heated discussion with Mr. and Mrs. Stenson. Harry slipped by them with his things and waved goodbye, heading toward his uncle.
"Dursley, we're going to find out a way to get Harry from you. He deserves better than your pathetic excuse for a family," Mr. Stenson yelled. Harry hoped things wouldn't get too heated right before he was going to be in a car with his uncle.
"Er...Mr. Stenson, it's all right. You guys can talk about this later. My train's going to be leaving and I can't be late for it," Harry said trying to calm everyone. Mr. Stenson nodded at Harry, realizing not to make the situation worse at the moment. Harry walked back to the car with his uncle, and climbed into the passenger side seat. Uncle Vernon got into the driver's side and turned back and sneered out the window:
"Don't mess with me Stenson, or I can make things extremely bad for some people." With that note, he grabbed Harry by the shoulder and dug his thumb into the back right near where a piece of glass was still embedded in his skin. Harry's cool exterior shattered as he let out a small cry of pain and his whole body tensed up. His uncle let go and Harry sat back trying to catch his breath, with only the wish of getting to King's Cross Station and going to Hogwarts.
Vernon winked at the Stensons with that same evil grin on his face and then stepped on the gas as Mrs. Stenson burst out in tears and Mr. Stenson started out the door towards Uncle Vernon. Harry's uncle sped off before he could reach them, Mr. Stenson yelling profanities after Uncle Vernon.
"That'll show him to mess with me," he said, too overjoyed for Harry's comfort. Harry remained silent, once again focusing on breathing and not losing his stomach.
Uncle Vernon's hand shot out and caught Harry's chin, yanking it to face his. "You're pathetic, boy, did you know that? Can't even defend yourself. Your parents would have been ashamed," he said throwing Harry's chin away in disgust. "And don't you dare speak a word of this to any of your freak friends. Wouldn't want to disappoint even more people."
"I won't," Harry muttered, turning to stare out the window. They were both silent for the rest of the ride. Harry felt disgusted with himself. To the Dursleys, the only family he had ever known, he was merely a servant, a pawn in the feud with the Stensons, and a punching bag for his uncle. Those were the only reasons they kept him around.
Though he always tried his best to ignore every word that exited his uncle's mouth, what he had said hit a button and Harry couldn't help but see some truth behind it.
.
Finally, after one last warning from his uncle to not breathe a word of what happened to anyone, Harry entered King's Cross Station. He was a bit later than he would have liked, always trying to be a little bit early ever since missing the train second year.
He got to the train as the whistle began to blow and only a few stragglers were jumping on. He heaved his trunk on board with some struggle and following Neville's directions, made his way to the compartment that Ron and Hermione were in.
When he walked in, his two friends sighed in relief.
"We thought you had missed the train, mate," Ron said. Harry sat down next to Hermione.
"Nah, just a little late. So how were your breaks?"
They all began discussing their breaks, Harry gently changing his story to exclude the ordeal with Mr. Stenson's cancer or how he had been treated at the Dursleys. They did get a kick out of Harry's description of the reactions he got when revealing that he was a wizard.
When the cut on the side of his face came up, he smoothly covered it with the same story he had told Kota, but added that he had given Dudley a bloody nose, to even the imaginary score.
After a while, the lack of sleep, weariness still lingering from the night before, and his injuries, began to catch up with him. Hermione had moved to the opposite bench to show Ron what Muggle pictures looked like and to attempt to explain why they weren't moving, so Harry lay down on the bench without his friends paying too much attention and quickly fell asleep.
"Harry, will you explain to Ron that Muggle pictures...Oh Ron look, Harry fell asleep."
"Yeah, well it's probably a good thing, he looks like he hasn't gotten sleep in ages."
The two got back to talking, but were interrupted by a soft groan from Harry.
"Do you think he's having one of his dreams?" asked Ron worriedly.
"I don't know," Hermione said in the same tone. She walked over to Harry and began calling his name to try to wake him up, but Harry's face just grimaced. She noticed that Harry seemed to be slightly sweating and curiously put a hand on his forehead. "Oh my God, Ron, he's burning up!"
"He has a fever?" Ron asked even more concerned and getting up as well.
"Yeah, and a very high one judging by the temperature of his forehead. He looks like he's in pain."
They both started calling to him louder. When that didn't work, Ron grabbed his shoulders and shook him gently. Both of them gasped when Harry's eyes shot open with a sharp intake of breath. His eyes were slightly glazed over as if he was hurting. He started shivering.
"Harry, you're sick!" Hermione informed him.
"Yeah, I think I may have come down with something last night, but don't worry, I don't think it's contagious," he winced, starting to sit up but two pairs of hands gently pushed him back down.
"No Harry, lay down right now. Hold on, we're going to try to get your fever down a little," Hermione said, running out of the room and coming quickly back with one of her Muggle shirts damp with cold water from the bathroom.
"You guys, don't worry! I'm fine really." To prove his point, Harry promptly stood up. Unfortunately, his body didn't exactly agree with his ego and immediately the room began to spin and his knees started to buckle.
Luckily Ron quickly grasped his friend's upper arms and helped him fall gently back onto the seat and pushed him back into a laying position.
"Nice try, Harry. You don't have to be Mr. Tough Guy all the time you know," Ron lightly scolded him, with a concerned smile. Hermione promptly put the makeshift washcloth on Harry's forehead.
"Ron's right, Harry."
"Ron's right? I really must be sick if I've started hallucinating." Ron laughed. Hermione put her hands on her hips and then sat down next to Harry's head.
"Does your skin hurt, Harry?" Hermione asked looking down into his eyes.
"Huh?" It did, but he had been desperately hoping that his friends wouldn't figure that out.
"Well I know that when I get fevers, sometimes everything hurts along with my skin. The way you reacted to Ron when he tried to wake you up..." she trailed off remembering back to it.
"Well, I guess, sort of. I'm sorry, I didn't mean to scare you guys," he quickly agreed with Hermione as to not lead to any more assumptions about his ailments.
"Hey mate, don't worry about it. Why don't you try to get some shuteye before we get to Hogwarts. Then we'll go see Madam Pomfrey and see what she can do for you," Ron said.
"No really, I'm fine. I really don't need to see Madam Pomfrey," he said briskly.
Both of his friends looked a little surprised by his reaction and very skeptical. In truth, he didn't want there to be any situation where someone could find out about his home life and Madam Pomfrey could easily find out something like that. Instead, however, he tried a different explanation.
"Come on, you guys, I don't want to be stuck in the hospital wing the first night back. I'll miss the feast!" In reality, Harry didn't even want to think about food at the moment as his stomach wasn't in tiptop shape, but this explanation seemed to at least grab Ron's sympathy.
"Well, we'll see how you're feeling when we get there, and if you're better, we won't carry you off to the hospital wing."
Harry nodded in agreement, causing Hermione to have to readjust the makeshift washcloth.
Harry felt very awkward and kept begging them to let him do things for himself, but they wouldn't hear anything of it. Instead, Hermione kept checking his temperature to see if it had gone down at all, and cooling the rag often with a simple spell. Ron had gotten out a few of his robes and put them on top of Harry like blankets under Hermione's orders that he needed to stay warm.
"Harry, haven't you ever had someone take care of you when you were sick before," asked Ron in a tone that obviously expected a positive answer.
"No," Harry said sleepily. His friends exchanged a look of surprise and sympathy, but Harry, who had once again begun to fall asleep, didn't notice.
"Well when you were younger, your aunt and uncle must've taken care of you when you got ill," Hermione insisted.
"No, I always took care of myself. Plus, the doctor's office isn't too far from the Dursley's house so I could just walk there if I needed to. And I aced the First-Aid class I had to take in school." Harry's eyes were closed and he was just murmuring the words, not even really registering what he was saying. A few minutes later, his breathing slowed and Ron and Hermione knew he was asleep.
"Is he going to be all right? I mean, whenever we get sick with a fever, Mum just gives us potions that work pretty quickly, so I don't really know what it's like trying to cure it the Muggle way," said Ron quietly.
"Yeah, I think he'll be fine. He must have the flu or something and he's probably been ignoring it as, well, he's Harry."
Luckily, the rest of the train ride went very smoothly, without a visit from Malfoy and the gang. While Harry slept, Ron and Hermione played wizards chess but threatened the pieces to stop playing if they weren't quiet, never forgetting to make sure Harry was covered in the robes and that the shirt on his forehead was still cold.
When they were almost there, Hermione woke up Harry being careful not to shake him in case his skin still hurt. They all changed into their robes and then it was time for Hermione's expert opinion. She felt Harry's forehead and frowned.
"Harry, I don't think your fever's gone down too much. We should take you to Madam Pomfrey."
"Hermione, I'm fine. Listen, I'll go up to Madam Pomfrey's torture chamber after the feast, all right," Harry insisted, with no intention of actually going up after the feast. Hermione had no choice but to agree.
"You only think it's a torture chamber because she makes you stay in bed all the time," Ron laughed.
"Do you know how tight she puts those sheets? I feel like I'm being mummified! Plus all those foul tasting potions...it's enough to make anyone run screaming the other way!"
Harry still didn't feel very well, but the sleep had done him a world of good. He no longer felt as dizzy and his back was pleasantly numb, though that probably wasn't the best sign. He figured that he'd try to find a spell to help him get out the glass soon. Either that or fake some kind of accident where it could have happened, though that would be very tough to pull off.
The Welcome-Back Feast seemed to take longer and was less enjoyable than usual. Of course, he would usually have already been at school and be welcoming back his classmates. He didn't touch his food, only moved it around on his plate trying not to smell it too much nor watch others eat, as he was feeling more and more nauseous in doing so.
Meanwhile, Hermione and Ron were eyeing him skeptically, regretting their decision to let Harry escape medical attention.
"Hey, Harry, aren't you going to eat anything?" Ron asked.
"Er...I'm not really hungry."
"See, Harry, you're ill. You haven't eaten anything all day. Maybe we should go up to the hospital wing now," Hermione scolded.
"Listen I'm fine, see." Harry popped a piece of potato into his mouth and reluctantly swallowed. He took a few more bites, which seemed to appease Hermione.
Apparently, though, this hadn't been the brightest idea. His stomach seemed to have been injured after all. All of a sudden, Harry's stomach tightened and he gasped in pain, dropping his fork and grabbing his friends' attention.
"Harry!"
He quickly realized that he was going to lose the food he had just eaten and got up as quickly as possible, hand covering his mouth, and raced out of Great Hall toward the nearest bathroom, the Slytherins laughing at him as he passed their table.
He heard his two friends run in after him as he fell over a toilet and started throwing up.
He couldn't stop for a long while, vaguely feeling Hermione's hand rubbing his back as he felt like he was turning his stomach inside out, Hermione not realizing this wasn't exactly comforting her friend. He had been sick before, but nothing like this. His stomach felt like knifes were stabbing into his abdomen.
Finally, he knew he had emptied his stomach and Ron handed him a bunch of paper towels to wipe off his face. He leaned back against the wall of the cubicle and wiped off his face, but when he pulled the towels away they had blood on them. Hermione had noticed the same thing when she had gone to flush the toilet.
"Oh my God, Harry, you're throwing up blood!" she practically screamed. Harry smiled weakly.
"Not anymore."
Then turning to Ron who wasn't quite sure if this was supposed to happen, Hermione said, "That's not normal Ron!"
"That's it, we're going to the hospital wing now!" Ron demanded pulling his friend up onto his feet. His friends stood on either side of him and pulled his arms around their shoulders for support. Harry was going to protest but thought this was less embarrassing than collapsing halfway there. He allowed himself to be helped up to the hospital wing.
"Madam Pomfrey!" Ron yelled as they got through the door. The hospital wing was empty, no sign of the nurse in sight. Harry was helped to the nearest bed. As Ron was running to retrieve the nurse, Madam Pomfrey hurried in from her office.
"What's all the screaming about?"
"It's nothing really, Madam Pomfrey, I just have a touch of the flu. I think a fever reducing potion along with something for my stomach might do the trick," Harry cut off Hermione hoping this wouldn't end in an examination.
"He was also throwing up blood, ma'am," Ron added after figuring out that Harry wasn't going to.
"Well that's certainly not normal," the nurse murmured hurrying to the potion's cupboard to grab some fever reducing potion. A glimmer of pride shone across Hermione's face as her earlier statement was confirmed, but was drowned in worry when her friend moaned, grabbing his stomach.
"Try some of this, dear," Madam Pomfrey said handing him a glass of fever reducing potion mixed with a bit of potion to relieve nausea. "I usually don't trust my patients' assessments of their maladies, but since you've become so good with magical medicine, I'm guessing you know what you're talking about. Of course, the throwing up blood makes it seem like something else might be wrong..."
" No, don't worry, ma'am. One time when I was young, I got food poisoning really bad. It did something to the lining of my stomach so that whenever I get sick blood comes up. Trust me, it's normal for me," Harry quickly lied. He had thought up that story on the way to the hospital wing and by the looks on the three other faces in the room, it was quite believable.
All of a sudden his stomach cramped up again and another moan escaped from his lips as he pressed his free hand into it trying to get it to stop hurting. He almost dropped the cup in his other hand but Hermione, sensing danger, quickly grabbed it from him.
"Harry? Here quick, drink this." Hermione held out the glass towards him and Harry met it with a shaky hand. His mind was so distracted he didn't even register the awful taste as it slid down his throat.
After only a few seconds, his stomach stopped cramping up since his body was no longer trying to throw up. He gradually felt less achy and came to be at a more normal temperature rather than too cold and too hot at the same time.
Harry refused Madam Pomfrey's attempts to keep him overnight to try to cure his stomach lining. He told her that the problem didn't bother him and slid out the door with Hermione and Ron.
"Now was that so horrible?" Hermione asked now in a much better mood.
"How are you feeling?" Ron asked still looking slightly worried. He had gotten really scared when they had found Harry in the bathroom, and only got increasingly afraid to see the blood and his best friend moaning in pain. He had never seen anyone so sick.
"As good as new. At least I wasn't taken prisoner for the night," Harry said with a smile.
This seemed to assure Ron and all was normal walking back to the dorms for the night.
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Author's Note: Wow, you guys are so great! I wasn't prepared for the amount of reviews I got for my last chapter. I was so happy I had a solo dance party around the kitchen, singing old rock and roll songs into a banana. Needless to say, there are many people right now who are doubting my sanity.
So as a big thank you to all my wonderful, stupendous reviewers (especially Firemask the faithful!) here's my longest chapter yet. Just to clear a few things up, right now, Harry does have cancer, but he's starting at the beginning. Mr. Stenson was diagnosed in late August and would have died in early January. That was about 4 months. He also said he had it for a few months I'm saying that it was about 2. This gives Harry until about July to live, but I guess you all will just have to see what happens with that. The reason Harry's sick in this chapter is because of the beginning of the chapter, which I'll just let you read, not because of the cancer. He's still at the beginning stages. And remember, the illness might effect Harry slightly differently than Muggles because it mixes strangely with magic.
Alright, well, thank you so much for the reviews! Please do it again!! On with the story!
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"So, sneaking out in the middle of the night to see that family," he spat.
"It was an emergency..." Harry started but was slammed up against the wall by his uncle.
"I was getting worried that you wouldn't make another mistake, that I wouldn't be able to teach you your lesson. When I found you missing I sent the police away. Wouldn't want any reports of domestic disturbance, would we?" he sneered.
"Please, Uncle Vernon, I'm going back to school tomorrow. I'll be gone, out of your..." Harry was interrupted with being backhanded to the floor, splitting the cut on his cheek back open. His uncle stalked over and Harry tried to back away but couldn't seem to get into a standing position quickly enough. A boot connected with his stomach, stunning him. It hit again and again until...
"Vernon?"
With his uncle's foot on his chest pinning him to the floor, Harry looked over to see his Aunt Petunia at the top of the stairs looking sleepy.
"Aunt Petunia, help me, please! Get him off of me! I can't breathe!" His uncle's foot pushed harder on his chest and with the large amount that he weighed, Harry couldn't squirm away no matter how he tried.
"Vernon, the boy is going back to that school tomorrow..." his aunt began.
'Thank you!' Harry's mind screamed. 'She's going to talk some sense into him.'
"...don't mark up his face too much or they'll figure it out. I don't need those people banging on the doors."
Harry's face fell. This couldn't be happening. His uncle looked ready to kill him and his mother's own sister didn't even care.
"What's going on?" Dudley came into view beside his mother. At seeing the scene below, his eyes lit up like it was Christmas again. "Oh boy, can I watch mum? Oh please!"
"No Duddykins, not tonight. A growing boy like you needs his rest and I don't want you to have to see that horrid boy get what's coming to him."
Harry was stunned. Was this some kind of show for them? He knew that his aunt and cousin had known that he had been beaten during the summer, but didn't realize that they actually supported the idea.
After much arguing, Aunt Petunia ushered Dudley back to his room and herself went back to sleep.
'Well I'm glad she can sleep so peacefully while her only nephew is getting murdered,' he thought sarcastically.
Uncle Vernon now turned his attention back to Harry. Hatred was burning in his eyes. His jaw clenched as he put all of his weight on the foot pinning down Harry, grinding it into his chest.
Harry let out a scream of agony as he felt and heard some of his ribs snap. His head swam as he tried to breathe despite the stabbing pains when he inhaled. The pressure was finally released and Harry was forcibly dragged into standing position. He kicked his uncle in the knee and tried to get away but the only result was being thrown into the low glass table in the living room.
When his body hit it, the glass shattered. He felt shards of it digging into his back and felt cuts on the back of head. Harry moaned and tried to sit up but Uncle Vernon grabbed his foot and began dragging him away from the table, causing the glass to be pushed further into his back and cut his skin.
He screamed in agony, kicking out with his free foot at the arms holding his other one, making them eventually let go. He tried to wriggle away but was stopped by several kicks to the chest, connecting with his already broken ribs. Harry couldn't even scream now, just focusing on staying conscious and breathing. He started slipping in and out of consciousness, only vaguely aware of the end of the beating and being dragged back to and thrown into his cupboard, along with the clicking of the lock.
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The next morning, Harry woke up with a fever that had developed during the night, most likely in connection with his injuries. He spent quite a while just trying to stand and make it to the bathroom. He took a shower to clean off the blood that caked his body and hair. He attempted to pick the glass out of his back but he couldn't reach. Each time he tried to maneuver his arm around to grab a piece, pain shot through his whole body. When he finally did get a piece, he realized it hurt less to just keep it in, and he'd worry about it later when he could have pain-relieving potions to help with the task.
He threw away his bloody, torn clothes and pulled on some more of Dudley's old clothes. This covered up all his bodily injuries except for the bruise and cut on his cheek. He was thankful that his hair was so dark as it covered up the cuts and bruises on the back of his head very well. If anyone asked, he could just say that he had gotten into a small fight with Dudley.
He practiced walking around some more, trying to hide any trace of suffering on his face. He went into the kitchen and cooked breakfast as usual, though it was more difficult this time, as he felt so sick. Each movement sent waves of pain shooting through his body. He didn't bother sneaking food for himself as he was already on the verge of throwing up.
As the Dursleys came down, he served them all without a word and they all talked normally. He did have to make sure to dodge Dudley's smelting stick a few times as he was trying to poke at Harry's injuries.
He went to get his stuff together and remembered that he didn't have it. He groaned. It was going to be hard to fool the Stensons since they already knew what was going on and the two females of the family were very huggy, especially when they were happy with Harry. However, there was nothing he could do except try to get in and out as fast as possible.
Harry and his uncle drove to the Stenson's in silence. The only words spoken were when they got there.
"I want you in and out of that house in five minutes or I'm calling the police to say they kidnapped you again, and I assure you I'll have them arrested," he sneered. Harry just nodded and got out of the car.
When Kota answered the door, Harry plastered a smile on his face and hoped it looked real enough. He entered and as he sensed Kota coming to give him a welcoming hug, he started quickly up the stairs.
"Sorry, I don't really have time for hellos. I have only a few minutes to get my stuff before my uncle has you guys arrested."
"Sure Harry, no problem," she said following him into the guest room to help him get his things together. "What happened to your cheek though? It looks worse than last night."
"Yeah I know, Dudley and I got into a bit of a tiff this morning and I think it split back open, the fat git," he said. Kota looked slightly skeptical but stayed silent.
The two walked quickly back downstairs carrying Harry's things, a task quite difficult for Harry, but he disguised it well.
What surprised him was that Uncle Vernon was on the front walk now, having a heated discussion with Mr. and Mrs. Stenson. Harry slipped by them with his things and waved goodbye, heading toward his uncle.
"Dursley, we're going to find out a way to get Harry from you. He deserves better than your pathetic excuse for a family," Mr. Stenson yelled. Harry hoped things wouldn't get too heated right before he was going to be in a car with his uncle.
"Er...Mr. Stenson, it's all right. You guys can talk about this later. My train's going to be leaving and I can't be late for it," Harry said trying to calm everyone. Mr. Stenson nodded at Harry, realizing not to make the situation worse at the moment. Harry walked back to the car with his uncle, and climbed into the passenger side seat. Uncle Vernon got into the driver's side and turned back and sneered out the window:
"Don't mess with me Stenson, or I can make things extremely bad for some people." With that note, he grabbed Harry by the shoulder and dug his thumb into the back right near where a piece of glass was still embedded in his skin. Harry's cool exterior shattered as he let out a small cry of pain and his whole body tensed up. His uncle let go and Harry sat back trying to catch his breath, with only the wish of getting to King's Cross Station and going to Hogwarts.
Vernon winked at the Stensons with that same evil grin on his face and then stepped on the gas as Mrs. Stenson burst out in tears and Mr. Stenson started out the door towards Uncle Vernon. Harry's uncle sped off before he could reach them, Mr. Stenson yelling profanities after Uncle Vernon.
"That'll show him to mess with me," he said, too overjoyed for Harry's comfort. Harry remained silent, once again focusing on breathing and not losing his stomach.
Uncle Vernon's hand shot out and caught Harry's chin, yanking it to face his. "You're pathetic, boy, did you know that? Can't even defend yourself. Your parents would have been ashamed," he said throwing Harry's chin away in disgust. "And don't you dare speak a word of this to any of your freak friends. Wouldn't want to disappoint even more people."
"I won't," Harry muttered, turning to stare out the window. They were both silent for the rest of the ride. Harry felt disgusted with himself. To the Dursleys, the only family he had ever known, he was merely a servant, a pawn in the feud with the Stensons, and a punching bag for his uncle. Those were the only reasons they kept him around.
Though he always tried his best to ignore every word that exited his uncle's mouth, what he had said hit a button and Harry couldn't help but see some truth behind it.
.
Finally, after one last warning from his uncle to not breathe a word of what happened to anyone, Harry entered King's Cross Station. He was a bit later than he would have liked, always trying to be a little bit early ever since missing the train second year.
He got to the train as the whistle began to blow and only a few stragglers were jumping on. He heaved his trunk on board with some struggle and following Neville's directions, made his way to the compartment that Ron and Hermione were in.
When he walked in, his two friends sighed in relief.
"We thought you had missed the train, mate," Ron said. Harry sat down next to Hermione.
"Nah, just a little late. So how were your breaks?"
They all began discussing their breaks, Harry gently changing his story to exclude the ordeal with Mr. Stenson's cancer or how he had been treated at the Dursleys. They did get a kick out of Harry's description of the reactions he got when revealing that he was a wizard.
When the cut on the side of his face came up, he smoothly covered it with the same story he had told Kota, but added that he had given Dudley a bloody nose, to even the imaginary score.
After a while, the lack of sleep, weariness still lingering from the night before, and his injuries, began to catch up with him. Hermione had moved to the opposite bench to show Ron what Muggle pictures looked like and to attempt to explain why they weren't moving, so Harry lay down on the bench without his friends paying too much attention and quickly fell asleep.
"Harry, will you explain to Ron that Muggle pictures...Oh Ron look, Harry fell asleep."
"Yeah, well it's probably a good thing, he looks like he hasn't gotten sleep in ages."
The two got back to talking, but were interrupted by a soft groan from Harry.
"Do you think he's having one of his dreams?" asked Ron worriedly.
"I don't know," Hermione said in the same tone. She walked over to Harry and began calling his name to try to wake him up, but Harry's face just grimaced. She noticed that Harry seemed to be slightly sweating and curiously put a hand on his forehead. "Oh my God, Ron, he's burning up!"
"He has a fever?" Ron asked even more concerned and getting up as well.
"Yeah, and a very high one judging by the temperature of his forehead. He looks like he's in pain."
They both started calling to him louder. When that didn't work, Ron grabbed his shoulders and shook him gently. Both of them gasped when Harry's eyes shot open with a sharp intake of breath. His eyes were slightly glazed over as if he was hurting. He started shivering.
"Harry, you're sick!" Hermione informed him.
"Yeah, I think I may have come down with something last night, but don't worry, I don't think it's contagious," he winced, starting to sit up but two pairs of hands gently pushed him back down.
"No Harry, lay down right now. Hold on, we're going to try to get your fever down a little," Hermione said, running out of the room and coming quickly back with one of her Muggle shirts damp with cold water from the bathroom.
"You guys, don't worry! I'm fine really." To prove his point, Harry promptly stood up. Unfortunately, his body didn't exactly agree with his ego and immediately the room began to spin and his knees started to buckle.
Luckily Ron quickly grasped his friend's upper arms and helped him fall gently back onto the seat and pushed him back into a laying position.
"Nice try, Harry. You don't have to be Mr. Tough Guy all the time you know," Ron lightly scolded him, with a concerned smile. Hermione promptly put the makeshift washcloth on Harry's forehead.
"Ron's right, Harry."
"Ron's right? I really must be sick if I've started hallucinating." Ron laughed. Hermione put her hands on her hips and then sat down next to Harry's head.
"Does your skin hurt, Harry?" Hermione asked looking down into his eyes.
"Huh?" It did, but he had been desperately hoping that his friends wouldn't figure that out.
"Well I know that when I get fevers, sometimes everything hurts along with my skin. The way you reacted to Ron when he tried to wake you up..." she trailed off remembering back to it.
"Well, I guess, sort of. I'm sorry, I didn't mean to scare you guys," he quickly agreed with Hermione as to not lead to any more assumptions about his ailments.
"Hey mate, don't worry about it. Why don't you try to get some shuteye before we get to Hogwarts. Then we'll go see Madam Pomfrey and see what she can do for you," Ron said.
"No really, I'm fine. I really don't need to see Madam Pomfrey," he said briskly.
Both of his friends looked a little surprised by his reaction and very skeptical. In truth, he didn't want there to be any situation where someone could find out about his home life and Madam Pomfrey could easily find out something like that. Instead, however, he tried a different explanation.
"Come on, you guys, I don't want to be stuck in the hospital wing the first night back. I'll miss the feast!" In reality, Harry didn't even want to think about food at the moment as his stomach wasn't in tiptop shape, but this explanation seemed to at least grab Ron's sympathy.
"Well, we'll see how you're feeling when we get there, and if you're better, we won't carry you off to the hospital wing."
Harry nodded in agreement, causing Hermione to have to readjust the makeshift washcloth.
Harry felt very awkward and kept begging them to let him do things for himself, but they wouldn't hear anything of it. Instead, Hermione kept checking his temperature to see if it had gone down at all, and cooling the rag often with a simple spell. Ron had gotten out a few of his robes and put them on top of Harry like blankets under Hermione's orders that he needed to stay warm.
"Harry, haven't you ever had someone take care of you when you were sick before," asked Ron in a tone that obviously expected a positive answer.
"No," Harry said sleepily. His friends exchanged a look of surprise and sympathy, but Harry, who had once again begun to fall asleep, didn't notice.
"Well when you were younger, your aunt and uncle must've taken care of you when you got ill," Hermione insisted.
"No, I always took care of myself. Plus, the doctor's office isn't too far from the Dursley's house so I could just walk there if I needed to. And I aced the First-Aid class I had to take in school." Harry's eyes were closed and he was just murmuring the words, not even really registering what he was saying. A few minutes later, his breathing slowed and Ron and Hermione knew he was asleep.
"Is he going to be all right? I mean, whenever we get sick with a fever, Mum just gives us potions that work pretty quickly, so I don't really know what it's like trying to cure it the Muggle way," said Ron quietly.
"Yeah, I think he'll be fine. He must have the flu or something and he's probably been ignoring it as, well, he's Harry."
Luckily, the rest of the train ride went very smoothly, without a visit from Malfoy and the gang. While Harry slept, Ron and Hermione played wizards chess but threatened the pieces to stop playing if they weren't quiet, never forgetting to make sure Harry was covered in the robes and that the shirt on his forehead was still cold.
When they were almost there, Hermione woke up Harry being careful not to shake him in case his skin still hurt. They all changed into their robes and then it was time for Hermione's expert opinion. She felt Harry's forehead and frowned.
"Harry, I don't think your fever's gone down too much. We should take you to Madam Pomfrey."
"Hermione, I'm fine. Listen, I'll go up to Madam Pomfrey's torture chamber after the feast, all right," Harry insisted, with no intention of actually going up after the feast. Hermione had no choice but to agree.
"You only think it's a torture chamber because she makes you stay in bed all the time," Ron laughed.
"Do you know how tight she puts those sheets? I feel like I'm being mummified! Plus all those foul tasting potions...it's enough to make anyone run screaming the other way!"
Harry still didn't feel very well, but the sleep had done him a world of good. He no longer felt as dizzy and his back was pleasantly numb, though that probably wasn't the best sign. He figured that he'd try to find a spell to help him get out the glass soon. Either that or fake some kind of accident where it could have happened, though that would be very tough to pull off.
The Welcome-Back Feast seemed to take longer and was less enjoyable than usual. Of course, he would usually have already been at school and be welcoming back his classmates. He didn't touch his food, only moved it around on his plate trying not to smell it too much nor watch others eat, as he was feeling more and more nauseous in doing so.
Meanwhile, Hermione and Ron were eyeing him skeptically, regretting their decision to let Harry escape medical attention.
"Hey, Harry, aren't you going to eat anything?" Ron asked.
"Er...I'm not really hungry."
"See, Harry, you're ill. You haven't eaten anything all day. Maybe we should go up to the hospital wing now," Hermione scolded.
"Listen I'm fine, see." Harry popped a piece of potato into his mouth and reluctantly swallowed. He took a few more bites, which seemed to appease Hermione.
Apparently, though, this hadn't been the brightest idea. His stomach seemed to have been injured after all. All of a sudden, Harry's stomach tightened and he gasped in pain, dropping his fork and grabbing his friends' attention.
"Harry!"
He quickly realized that he was going to lose the food he had just eaten and got up as quickly as possible, hand covering his mouth, and raced out of Great Hall toward the nearest bathroom, the Slytherins laughing at him as he passed their table.
He heard his two friends run in after him as he fell over a toilet and started throwing up.
He couldn't stop for a long while, vaguely feeling Hermione's hand rubbing his back as he felt like he was turning his stomach inside out, Hermione not realizing this wasn't exactly comforting her friend. He had been sick before, but nothing like this. His stomach felt like knifes were stabbing into his abdomen.
Finally, he knew he had emptied his stomach and Ron handed him a bunch of paper towels to wipe off his face. He leaned back against the wall of the cubicle and wiped off his face, but when he pulled the towels away they had blood on them. Hermione had noticed the same thing when she had gone to flush the toilet.
"Oh my God, Harry, you're throwing up blood!" she practically screamed. Harry smiled weakly.
"Not anymore."
Then turning to Ron who wasn't quite sure if this was supposed to happen, Hermione said, "That's not normal Ron!"
"That's it, we're going to the hospital wing now!" Ron demanded pulling his friend up onto his feet. His friends stood on either side of him and pulled his arms around their shoulders for support. Harry was going to protest but thought this was less embarrassing than collapsing halfway there. He allowed himself to be helped up to the hospital wing.
"Madam Pomfrey!" Ron yelled as they got through the door. The hospital wing was empty, no sign of the nurse in sight. Harry was helped to the nearest bed. As Ron was running to retrieve the nurse, Madam Pomfrey hurried in from her office.
"What's all the screaming about?"
"It's nothing really, Madam Pomfrey, I just have a touch of the flu. I think a fever reducing potion along with something for my stomach might do the trick," Harry cut off Hermione hoping this wouldn't end in an examination.
"He was also throwing up blood, ma'am," Ron added after figuring out that Harry wasn't going to.
"Well that's certainly not normal," the nurse murmured hurrying to the potion's cupboard to grab some fever reducing potion. A glimmer of pride shone across Hermione's face as her earlier statement was confirmed, but was drowned in worry when her friend moaned, grabbing his stomach.
"Try some of this, dear," Madam Pomfrey said handing him a glass of fever reducing potion mixed with a bit of potion to relieve nausea. "I usually don't trust my patients' assessments of their maladies, but since you've become so good with magical medicine, I'm guessing you know what you're talking about. Of course, the throwing up blood makes it seem like something else might be wrong..."
" No, don't worry, ma'am. One time when I was young, I got food poisoning really bad. It did something to the lining of my stomach so that whenever I get sick blood comes up. Trust me, it's normal for me," Harry quickly lied. He had thought up that story on the way to the hospital wing and by the looks on the three other faces in the room, it was quite believable.
All of a sudden his stomach cramped up again and another moan escaped from his lips as he pressed his free hand into it trying to get it to stop hurting. He almost dropped the cup in his other hand but Hermione, sensing danger, quickly grabbed it from him.
"Harry? Here quick, drink this." Hermione held out the glass towards him and Harry met it with a shaky hand. His mind was so distracted he didn't even register the awful taste as it slid down his throat.
After only a few seconds, his stomach stopped cramping up since his body was no longer trying to throw up. He gradually felt less achy and came to be at a more normal temperature rather than too cold and too hot at the same time.
Harry refused Madam Pomfrey's attempts to keep him overnight to try to cure his stomach lining. He told her that the problem didn't bother him and slid out the door with Hermione and Ron.
"Now was that so horrible?" Hermione asked now in a much better mood.
"How are you feeling?" Ron asked still looking slightly worried. He had gotten really scared when they had found Harry in the bathroom, and only got increasingly afraid to see the blood and his best friend moaning in pain. He had never seen anyone so sick.
"As good as new. At least I wasn't taken prisoner for the night," Harry said with a smile.
This seemed to assure Ron and all was normal walking back to the dorms for the night.
.