Author's Note: Hey all! Over 900 reviews?! You guys rock my world!
Finally, it was Friday, the day he had promised to tell the rest of the Weasley kids about the cancer. That day they had their Care of Magical Creatures test, which only consisted of a written exam. For once, Harry was able to see that Hagrid's lessons were not completely random spiels on magical creatures that he found interesting, but had actually been preparatory for the O.W.L.s. He nearly laughed when he read the question: How should a person approach a Hippogriff and what will cause one to become angry?
He didn't get very far into the test when he began to feel ill. Luckily, Professor Lupin had been one of the exam proctors and had noticed Harry's shivering and the grimace of pain on his face, and realized what was going on.
He came over and knelt by Harry's seat. "Harry, let's get you to the Hospital Wing, okay? The test isn't important. Hagrid already knows you're a good student."
Harry started to protest, but a dizzy spell reminded him that he didn't want to faint in front of the entire fifth year class. He nodded and shoved his quills into his pocket. Lupin escorted him out, handing in his exam on the way out. Many students glanced up curiously, but quickly went back to their tests as the given time trickled away. Harry's friends watched him worriedly, but he gave them a reassuring smile before going out the door.
Lupin brought Harry to the Hospital Wing, but Madam Pomfrey was at a bit of a loss. Harry was already on fever-reducing potion, but his immune system was failing and without its help, potions were no longer working as well or lasting as long.
"There's nothing you can do to help him?" Lupin asked, casting Harry a sympathetic look as the boy lay on his usual hospital bed. Madam Pomfrey shot a glare at him.
"Remus, if I knew what to do, don't you think I would be doing it? He's on so many potions all ready and I'm not an expert with his condition. If you want to help, go call Severus. You can use the fire in my office," she said sternly. Remus went to her office to execute her orders. She sat on the edge of Harry's bed next to him. Her expression softened as he smiled weakly at her. "Now you did take your potions this morning, right dear?"
"Mmm hmm," murmured, nodding his head slightly. "They've been working fine up until now. I must be getting really bad," he said lightly, but Madam Pomfrey could easily see the fear on his face and it broke her heart. Unfortunately, she couldn't find any comforting words.
"I'm sorry, dear. I wish I knew more about this, Harry, so I could help you. Professor Snape will be here soon and hopefully, he can have some answers with potions questions."
"Don't apologize, Madam Pomfrey. I knew when I did this what it would be like. If it wasn't for you I'd have been in pain for a lot longer."
She cooled off the cloth on his forehead and readjusted it. Harry murmured his thanks, still slightly embarrassed to be taken care of. Madam Pomfrey noticed a look on Harry's face, as if he was debating whether to say something or not.
"Harry?" she asked to prompt him. He looked down at his fidgeting hands.
"Umm…well, I was just wondering, honestly, do you think I'll make it until my birthday? I mean, I know I said July, but with all the potions, it might turn out differently than it would have with Mr. Stenson. You can be honest with me. I can take it."
The nurse looked down him and tried not to cry. The way things were looking, she wasn't sure he'd make it until July.
"Yes. You can make it until then. You just have to believe that you can and you will."
Harry looked up at her hopefully. "Really?"
"Really."
He flashed her a huge smile. "That would be great. I've always wanted to have a real birthday, you know, with a cake and candles and people singing the song." He looked off dreamily.
"And presents," she added.
"Presents?" he asked with a slightly confused look. Then he shook his head. "No, I don't need presents."
Lupin walked back in with Snape right behind him, having flooed up from the dungeons, arms laden with bottles of potions.
"I just spoke with Sirius. He's going to come and see you tonight after he finishes some things with the house. With the way he's working on it, it'll be a palace by the time you get there," Lupin said with a light chuckle.
"He won't tell me what he's doing. Tell him not to get carried away. He won't listen to me," Harry said amusedly.
One of the test proctors came in and told Lupin that they needed him to come back. He looked reluctant, but Harry insisted that he'd be fine and there was nothing to worry about. Lupin instructed him to feel better and then slipped out the door. Meanwhile, Madam Pomfrey had filled Snape in on the problem.
"I don't know if I can give him any more potions without risking further damage, Severus. I'm lost with this," she explained. He nodded and sighed thoughtfully.
"More fever-reducing potion is out of the question. Too much will poison him." He paused in thought and began flipping through some potions books that Harry didn't think were from the library. He stopped on a page and sighed, tapping the page. "We can try an Aegis Potion. I'm not sure how effective it will be, but it's really the only thing we can do right now. It will cause fatigue and possibly dizziness, so it might be best if you stayed in bed for the rest of the night, Potter."
Harry's face fell. "Isn't there anything else? I'm already tired all the time, this will just make it worse. I don't want to be sleeping the rest of the time I have left. I'd rather just stay as I am," he pleaded.
"Potter, if there were anything else, I'd tell you, but this is all I can think of at the moment. It should help fight this for a brief period of time, giving your immune system a rest. Your body can't keep fighting this on its own," Snape insisted apathetically, not looking at Harry. For a fleeting moment, Harry swore he had detected a hint of sadness in the professor's voice, but realized he must have been hearing things.
"But I was going to go flying with Ron tonight," he said sadly. "And Sirius is coming. I can't sleep through that. Can't I take it tomorrow?"
"If you don't take this potion, you'll probably collapse anyways, Potter. Your friends and Godfather will understand, but you need this," said the potions master coolly, turning to his potions ingredients and sorting through them.
Harry sighed and looked longingly out the window at the Quidditch pitch.
"Well, dear, I'm going to go look through some of my books to see if I can find anything to deal with this loss of appetite you said you've been having. I'll be back in a bit," Madam Pomfrey said gently before disappearing into her office.
Snape began to brew the potion. He kept opening and closing his mouth and was thankful Harry was looking the other way. A part of him wanted to start conversation, and a part of him just wanted to remain the detached professor. He didn't even know how to start a conversation with the boy. He cleared his throat and Harry turned to face him expectantly.
"I saw your potion for your O.W.L.s. It was an Outstanding," he started casually.
"Really?"
"Yes. Your examiner said you made it with ease and answered the bonus question correctly. That's good enough to make it into Advanced Potions, the hardest class to get into in the school. Your marks have really gone up."
Harry grinned at him awkwardly. "Thanks Professor."
"It's not a compliment, it's a fact."
"Er…right. That would have been cool to take potions next year. I think I was just starting to get into it," he said with a hint of sadness to his voice. His eyes looked into space. "It's so strange to think that I'll never be going to another class here." He seemed to snap back to reality. "At least your class will be easier, I guess, without Malfoy and I fighting and trying to blow up each other's cauldrons," he said with a smile that didn't quite reach his eyes.
Snape stirred the potion with a frown. Harry was right. There would never be another potions class with Harry Potter in it. There would be no one for him to blame for every little mishap. No one to heckle mercilessly. No one to secretly watch over, like he had been doing since finding out about Harry's home life.
"Potter," he said softly, not looking up from his potion, "whatever you may think, I have never wished you dead. I don't hate you and…er…you would have been a…er…great asset to my…um…advanced potions class," he said quickly, wincing at the awkwardness of the words. He had said "er" and "um"! Like a nervous little first year who was stumbling over answering a question. He supposed he was a bit rusty at giving someone a compliment. He didn't think he'd try it again soon. It was far too bizarre and embarrassing.
There was a long silence as Harry stared at the potions master curiously. "Thank you, Professor. That—that means a lot," he said sincerely.
Snape did a rapid heating spell on the potion, followed by a cooling one.
"Don't get sentimental on me, Potter. You'll ruin my reputation," he growled. Harry stared at him momentarily before laughing.
"Oh yes, I can see the headlines now: Potions Master Actually Human. What would you do?" he laughed, a part of him hoping he wasn't overstepping any boundaries, another part not really caring. What could Snape do to him at this point anyway?
Snape scowled at him, secretly suppressing a snigger. "I resent that, Potter," he said, but the amusement in his eyes let Harry know not to take him seriously.
"What else is new?" Harry joked. Snape started pouring out some of the potion into a glass. "Oh no, now he's going to poison me," he sighed dramatically.
"You bet, Potter. This will slowly and painfully turn you into a Slytherin," he said with a smirk, hardly believing that he was actually joking around with someone, especially Harry Potter.
Harry smirked at him. "You know, I was almost put into Slytherin. The Sorting Hat wanted to put me in there."
Snape froze and looked at him in disbelief. "You? The Golden Boy of Gryffindor? In Slytherin?"
Harry shrugged. "That's what it said."
"Why did you not end up in my house then?" he asked curiously.
Harry smirked. "I met Malfoy. He said he wanted to be in Slytherin, so I figured it must fit him. He was pretty awful, so…"
"Draco is not awful, Potter. You should quit being so judgmental about him," Snape interrupted sternly.
"Well, he's acted pretty awful to me and my friends," Harry argued. "I'm not saying he's the epitome of evil or anything, but he acted arrogant to put me off him right away." He decided he better change the subject. "Anyways, that's why I begged the Sorting Hat to move to its second choice."
Snape stopped scowling, remembering that from what he had overheard throughout the years, that Harry was right about the blonde Slytherin's behavior. Snape thought about the idea of Harry being in Slytherin. He was vaguely impressed, and slightly disappointed. He hadn't considered Harry being in Slytherin before, but the idea wasn't all that crazy. He secretly thought that Harry would have been really good for the Slytherin house and the students in it.
"Well, that is definitely one of the most interesting things I've heard in a while," he said, vaguely wondering why the headmaster had never told him.
"Yeah, I sometimes wonder how different things would have been. Whether I'd have had the same friends. Whether the same people would have hated me." He subconsciously glanced up at the Potions master, causing Snape to feel a slight pang of guilt.
"It would definitely have made things interesting," he commented. He handed Harry the glass. "Drink this bit up. You can't take too much at one time, so I want you to take this now and then the rest at, let's see, five o' clock. It has a few nasty side effects at first, but they'll go away quickly," he assured the boy.
Harry nodded and drank down the potion. He had just set down his glass on the nightstand when a horrible pain shot through his stomach. His whole body immediately felt like it was on fire and as nausea overcame him, he was certain he would be sick. He whimpered pathetically and gasped, trying to refrain from crying out at the pain.
He felt a relieving coolness on his forehead.
"It'll be over in a minute. It's okay. It's almost done," came a comforting voice.
The nausea and pain diminished and Harry was left shakily gasping for breath. He opened his eyes to find himself staring at a very worried looking Snape, who immediately snapped into a look of indifference as Harry looked at him. The potions master was holding a freshly cooled rag to his forehead.
"I don't like this potion too much," he muttered shakily.
"Have you been eating lately? As in regular meals?" Snape asked. Harry shook his head.
"I can't. I just throw it up," he said with a hint of embarrassment.
"Your stomach seems to be rejecting things. That's why you had such a violent reaction to the initial side effects of the potion. I don't know if you'll even be able to keep it down the next time. If you can't, you have those syringes I gave you, right?"
Harry nodded.
"Good, you'll have to just inject it, but make sure you're somewhere where you can lie down for a second after you take it, whether you drink it or inject it. It's best if you can ingest it though, as I'm sure you know. I think it's best if I also start you on some nutrient and food-supplement potions, unless I can figure out a way to stop your stomach from rejecting food." He paused, noticing that Harry's eyes seemed to be struggling to stay open. "Well, how are you feeling now?" he asked with well-hidden concern.
"A lot better, actually. But tired," he said disappointedly. "Can't I take an energy potion?"
"No, sorry but the two don't mix well. It might work in the beginning, but it would just run you down. You'd be awake on energy you don't have and that's really hard on your body. You need your sleep."
Harry sighed and nodded, trying to fight sleep.
"I'm going to leave the rest of this potion here, since I have to get back to some research. Remember to take it later."
"'kay," he murmured, eyes closed. His breathing evened out as he slipped into slumber, but he was still shaking slightly. Snape pulled the covers up to Harry's chin and took off the wet rag from his forehead, gently drying off the boy's skin with his own sleeve.
He turned to leave and froze. In the doorway, was Ron Weasley, who was staring at him in shock.
"Mr. Weasley, aren't you supposed to be in your exam?" he asked sternly.
"Yeah, I just quit early and Professor Lupin said I could leave to go see Harry. Er…how is he?" he asked, coming into the room awkwardly.
"He's fine. He's going to be taking a few more potions now. He'll wake in about an hour," he said, a bit flustered with having been seen acting in a caring manner. All practical thoughts such as giving the boy instructions with Harry's new medications left his mind as he swiftly exited to escape the redhead's amazed gaze.
As Ron sat down, Madam Pomfrey walked back in carrying a few books. She nearly jumped in surprise at the sight of him.
"Oh Mr. Weasley," she said with a small chuckle, putting a hand to her heart, "you nearly scared me out of my wits."
He gave her an apologetic smile. "What does this one do?" he asked pointing to the new potion on Harry's nightstand.
"It basically takes over the job of Harry's immune system for a brief period of time, hopefully giving Harry a bit of a rest from trying to fight this thing all on his own," she said sadly. "Unfortunately, he'll get immune to it quickly. It'll only be affective for a few days at most."
A bunch of voices were coming toward the Hospital Wing doors. Madam Pomfrey quickly pulled the curtains around Harry's bed.
Apparently, a bunch of third years had gotten into a group brawl, and were now stumbling into the hospital wing.
Madam Pomfrey ordered all the injured into beds and began giving them random potions. Ron watched in interest. She noticed him watching and waved him over.
"Here, dear, can you measure out about three milliliters of this and give it to the boy with the blond hair," she said, handing him a potion.
Ron obeyed and handed it to the blond kid. The boy thanked him before drinking it down.
"Madam Pomfrey, how do you know what's wrong with them without even examining them," he asked curiously as she poured out another potion. She looked up at him with a pleased expression.
"Here, dear, I'll show you, follow me and get out your wand." She led him to a boy who was grimacing in pain. "All right, say Seardetrimenta as you run your wand over him like this." She passed her own wand over the boy as if it were scanning him. "And then concentrate on finding the injury."
"Erm, can't you just heal me? I don't want him doing any experimental spells on me," the boy said snottily.
"Oh hush it, you," Madam Pomfrey snapped. "If you get into fights, I control who heals you." She turned back to Ron and her expression softened. "Go ahead dear."
"Seardetrimenta," he said as he ran his wand over the kid, concentrating like Madam Pomfrey told him. He could immediately sense that the kid had a sprained wrist and a bruised stomach, probably from being punched. He said this aloud to Madam Pomfrey who smiled and nodded. "Very good. So, we need Bruise Be Gone and Sprain Stopper, not very imaginative names, but they do the trick." Ron measured out some of the potion for bruises and gave it to the kid.
After a few kids, Ron could do the spell with ease. Madam Pomfrey let him guess at what potions they would need and how much. He was right or close most of the time. Madam Pomfrey was nearly beside herself with excitement about a student being interested in healing.
Ron walked over to Harry while Madam Pomfrey was hustling the healed kids out of the infirmary. He raised his wand and concentrated.
"Seardetri—" he started but stopped with a gasp as Madam Pomfrey grabbed his wand hand and pulled it away from Harry. She looked slightly panicked.
"Mr. Weasley, not on Harry."
"What? Why not?" he asked, slightly scared at the reaction from the school nurse.
"It's his own business. Just promise me you won't, all right?"
"Er…okay," he said, now really wondering why she wasn't letting perform it on Harry when he was allowed to on all the other kids.
"So, Mr. Weasley, have you considered becoming a Healer?" she asked, much calmer after Ron agreeing not to check on Harry with the spell.
"No. I mean, with Harry's cancer I've been reading a lot of medical books and I think they're interesting and all, but I never really thought about actually doing anything with it. I mean, I don't know if I'm really cut out for it, you know?" he said thoughtfully, sinking down into the chair by Harry's bed.
"I don't know what you're talking about. You seem to be great at it if you ask me. Professor Snape told me that you gave Harry an injection and Harry's told me that you're good about knowing which potions he needs to take," she said as she bustled around.
"Well, that's with Harry. But memorizing how much of which potion he should take with which symptoms is different than being a Healer," he insisted.
"Everyone starts somewhere, dear. You should consider it. What's your schedule this year?" Ron listed his classes. "You'd have to concentrate in Potions and Charms in particular, don't drop Herbology, that'll become important. Ditch Divination, that class is rubbish, and History of Magic can go. Care of Magical Creatures can go or stay, though I recommend it if you can handle it with your other classes. Concentrate in the others though, and you could definitely be a Healer if you're interested."
Ron looked down dejectedly. "Well, there goes that option. I totally messed up my Potion's O.W.L. and I haven't had the best grades in it. There's no way I'll be allowed into it next year. Wouldn't mind ditching Divination and History though."
"Well, if it's something you are serious about, I'll talk to Professor Snape for you. He and I are good friends and work closely together, so I have a bit of say with him. But I'll only recommend you if you're serious about this and will work hard in that class, because you'll be in there on my good word. You think about that, okay? Ooh, hold on one second."
She hurried to her office and a few seconds later brought out a very worn looking book.
"You can look through this if you'd like. It's what got me into Healing. It talks about different things the job entitles, the kind of things you'd be curing, what it takes to get there, and famous Healers."
"Thanks." Ron took the book and began flipping through it thoughtfully.
Madam Pomfrey went back into her office.
When Ron was sure she wasn't coming back, he set the book down and stood up. He took out his wand and placed it over Harry.
"Seardetrimenta," he whispered, concentrating on the focuses of Harry's pain.
He wasn't prepared for the nearly overwhelming sense of pain that hit him. Harry was hurting everywhere! He could sense overwhelming weakness and fatigue. But what horrified him most of all was the slight sense of foreboding death. He didn't know one could actually sense that, but he could. He immediately understood why Madam Pomfrey had to do more in depth examinations of Harry and why she was at a loss. The pain wasn't specific. It was everything and everywhere.
Ron shivered violently and dropped his wand, breaking the connection. He shakily picked up his wand and looked at his friend, who looked peaceful in his sleep. If Harry looked so relaxed while in this much pain, then what kind of pain did he feel at the times when it showed? How could he stand it? Harry obviously didn't let on to how much pain he was in all the time. Ron just figured it went away most of the time, but was now realizing that it was always there, Harry had just gotten used to it.
A little while later, Harry woke up. Ron handed him his glasses.
"Hey, what time is it?" he asked tiredly.
"Around 1:30. How are you feeling?" he asked in concern.
"Fine. Aren't you supposed to be taking the test still? I thought it lasted until four," Harry asked worriedly.
"Ah, Hagrid will understand. And if he doesn't, I don't need the class or anything. Don't worry about it, okay?" he ordered sternly, knowing Harry was already feeling guilty.
"Yes sir," Harry joked.
Ron paused. "Hey Har? Just hypothetically, not that I'm really considering it or anything, but what would you think about me being a Healer? It was just a stupid, passing idea, you know?"
"I think you'd be a fantastic Healer," Harry said encouragingly.
"Ha ha, now really, what would you honestly think?" he said bracing himself.
"Ron, I'm serious, you'd be great! I really think so. You were great at giving me a shot on your first try, and you're great about all the stupid potions I have to take. I could really see you as a Healer. It's a brilliant idea!" he said enthusiastically.
They spent the next few hours talking about how Ron would become a famous Healer, bordering on superhero. Ron silently wished that the conversation could be about both of their futures.
That evening, Harry and Ron ran into George in the common room.
"Oy, you two! Ready to do some flying?" he asked excitedly as Harry had offered to let them all take turns on his Firebolt, something George had never done.
"Oh yeah, we just have to get our brooms," said Ron with a nod toward the boys' staircase.
"All right. Fred's not coming. He and Angelina had to do some 'studying,'" he said wiggling his eyebrows, suggesting that studying would be the farthest thing from Fred and Angelina's minds.
Harry chuckled while Ron shuddered.
"Too much information," said the younger of the two redheads. "We'll be right back."
The two ran up to the fifth year dorm and threw on sweaters. As Harry grabbed his broomstick, his eyes fell upon the clock. It was nearing five. He glanced over to the potion sitting on his nightstand. He wasn't feeling very ill; he definitely felt well enough to go flying. If he took the potion, he wouldn't be able to go.
'I'll be fine,' he silently decided.
"Ready Har?" asked Ron eagerly.
Harry nodded and with one final glance at the potion, followed Ron out the door.
They flew around for nearly two hours. Harry tried to teach them how to do a Wronski Feint, but when George almost had a head on collision with the ground, and Ron nearly hit the goal post, they decided to give that trick a rest for the day. They got the Quaffles from the Quidditch shed and tried to get them past Ron, who blocked nearly every single one.
They raced each other, each time making the course more difficult: flying through the goal posts, around trees, touching the ground, and such. Harry nearly almost won, even when someone else was riding his Firebolt.
Yet Harry gradually began to feel worse. It was now nearing seven o' clock, two hours after he should have taken his potion, and he was no longer certain that he didn't need it.
As they ran out of ideas for races, they began lazily flying around and chatting. Harry's head began pounding with sharp pains, but he merely clenched his teeth when not talking and pressed his fingers into his temples.
"All right, if you could ban one person, or ghost, or other creature, from Hogwarts, who would it be?" George asked from below Ron and Harry, as he lazily flied in a figure eight pattern.
"Just one? Hmm…I guess Malfoy, though there would be a few others I wouldn't mind getting rid of as well," Ron said thoughtfully, chewing on part of a chocolate frog he had found in his pocket. "Like Trelawney." He said the Divination teacher's name with pronounced malice. Though Harry had trained himself to block out all her foreboding of his death, Ron had remained sensitive to it and was always in a foul mood during and after the class. He had even told her off a few times, landing himself in detention.
"No, Cho Chang has to be the first to go. Her or Filch. It's a bit of a tough call," Harry mused. "What about you George?" he called down.
"Ron Weasley. Man, that kid's annoying," he smirked. Ron chucked the rest of his chocolate frog down at George but missed. "Filch definitely. If we got rid of him, Fred and I could get all the stuff he's confiscated from us back. I think he must have a whole bureau full of it now. Though he did help us to reach our record-breaking detention record, so for that, I owe him thanks," he said dramatically.
"Ah yes, the record for most detentions ever, I'm so proud of you," Ron said sarcastically, trying to casually do an upside-down loop on his broom, but nearly falling off. Instead he climbed higher into the sky.
Harry's head began pounding viciously, drowning out the playful banter between the two brothers. He felt something wet trickle down from his nose, and curiously touched the side of his finger to it. He pulled it away to find blood. He wiped it away with his sleeve, but a wave of dizziness caused him to grab his broom desperately. His breath caught in his chest as he coughed painfully.
"Hey Harry, you all right?" George called up, not sounding all too concerned since he didn't understand the seriousness of the situation.
But Harry didn't answer. Ron looked down at him with worry and called his name.
Harry groaned and pressed a hand against his chest as his breathing became harsh and erratic. Ron began flying down to him, but before he could get there, Harry's eyes closed as he slipped off his broom.
"George!" Ron screamed frantically. George gasped and immediately flew himself under Harry and caught the younger boy in his arms like a rag doll, knocking his broom down several feet.
"Ron! What the hell is wrong with him? He's unconscious and his nose is bleeding and he isn't breathing right!" George called in shock, extremely frightened as he cradled Harry's shaking body to his chest. "Oh shit, we need to get him to the Hospital Wing."
"No, fly him up to our dorm window. It's closer and we need to go quick!" Ron yelled shakily. Grabbing Harry's broom and starting toward the thankfully open window.
"Ron, he needs medical attention!" George insisted.
"George, please! Just trust me!" he called.
George nodded, fright showing on his face. The two flew as fast as they could to the window and stepped down into the room, George carrying Harry. He gently laid Harry down onto his bed and tried to wake him as Ron ran to the nightstand and desperately pulled out a vial and a syringe.
"Roll up his sleeve," he ordered as he filled the syringe with the emergency potion and tapped the air bubbles out of it, his hands shaking like mad as he tried to concentrate one what he was supposed to do. George looked at his brother in a confused awe and did as he was told.
"Ron, what the hell?" he asked. Ron just brushed him aside and knelt by Harry, who was covered in cold sweat, his breath coming in small gasps.
"Hold on Harry," he murmured as he grabbed Harry's arm and hurriedly swabbed it with antiseptic at the inside of his elbow. "I need more light!"
George quickly turned on the lights to the room and watched as Ron found a vein and carefully pushed the needle into Harry's arm. As the needle entered, there was a sharp intake of breath from Harry.
"Ron, what's going on? Please," George begged, sounding almost tearful in his desperation to know what was happening.
Ron pushed in the plunger on the needle and slid the syringe back out carefully, immediately pressing a cotton swab to the hole to stop the bleeding. Ron shakily wiped the blood away from under Harry's nose with a tissue.
"Harry's sick," he said quietly.
"No shit, Ron," he said, clearly frightened. "But why do you know how to give him a shot? How do you even know if you're giving him the right thing? This doesn't look like any flu or cold I've ever seen…"
"George," Ron interrupted his brother's tirade. "Harry's sick," he said slowly and sadly. He looked up into his brother's eyes, begging him to understand so Ron wouldn't have to say it. George's eyes went wide and he took a step back.
"Wait, what do you…what do you mean?" he asked frantically.
"He's dying," he said in a near whisper. George froze and stared at him with a horrified look.
"Ron, that is NOT funny," he said coldly. "What is really going on? If this is some sort of prank, that's really sick."
Ron scowled at him. "Would I joke about this?" he snapped, angrily wiping away a tear. "He was going to tell you and Fred and Ginny tonight after dinner."
"No," George said shaking his head numbly. "No, this can't be."
"That's what I thought," Ron whispered, looking back to Harry who was beginning to regain consciousness.
Harry moaned and opened his eyes, looking around in confusion, his eyes finally landing on Ron.
"What happened?" he asked hoarsely.
"You fell off your broom. George caught you. I told him. I'm sorry, I know it should have been you to explain, but I had to," Ron explained. Harry looked over to George who was frozen in shock.
"George, I…" he started, but was interrupted by a wave of dizziness. "Ron, I didn't take my potion. Snape said I had to at five, but I didn't," he said weakly looking at the potion on his nightstand. Ron grabbed it along with a glass. Harry told him half a glass would do.
"Harry, why didn't you take it? That was so stupid! You could've…something really bad could have happened!"
"It makes me too tired," he explained quietly.
"So what?"
"So I wanted to go flying with you guys, and Sirius is coming after dinner and I was going to tell Fred and George and Ginny," he said, avoiding Ron's stern gaze. "If I'm not awake for anything anymore, then what's the point?"
Ron couldn't think of anything to say and helped Harry sit up. He handed the glass to Harry, but the dark-haired boy's hands were shaking so hard that Ron kept a hand on the glass, helping tip the potion into Harry's mouth.
Harry swallowed and then whimpered in pain. "Ron," he moaned.
"Are you going to be sick?" he asked quickly. Harry nodded miserably.
"George, snap out of it. Please! Grab that trash bin and hurry," he said, snapping George out of his shocked, frozen state. The twin nodded and grabbed the bin. He ran over and put it before Harry who immediately vomited up all the potion into it. George numbly sat on the edge of the bed and rubbed Harry's back with a shaky hand. Ron looked up at his brother thankfully as he pulled out another syringe and filled it halfway with the potion, remembering that half a glass of potion was equal to half a syringe.
As soon as Harry was done retching and had wiped his mouth on his sleeve, Ron gave him the shot. As the potion spread through his bloodstream, Harry felt the initial side effects. He bit his lip and leaned back against the headboard of his bed, closing his eyes tightly.
When it passed he looked sadly up at George.
"It's true," the older Weasley said numbly.
Harry nodded. "I'm sorry. I promise I'll explain everything after dinner, when Fred and Ginny are here too. Please don't tell them yet. I think they should hear it from me. Maybe you guys should go tell them not to make any plans after dinner."
"I'm staying with you," Ron said firmly.
"No, Ron, please. I just need some time to myself before this. To collect my thoughts and stuff," he said gently. Ron nodded understandingly.
He and George got up, the latter still looking quite dazed. He had yet to completely comprehend what he had been told.
"Try and get some rest. We'll be back in about half and hour," Ron said.
"Merlin, this can't be happening," George muttered, swallowing hard.
"See you after dinner, Harry," Ron sighed. "Don't worry. It'll turn out okay."
Harry nodded and looked down at his hands as the two Weasleys left. The door clicked shut behind them. He leaned back against the headboard with a sigh. Though he felt weak, he didn't feel as tired as he had when taking the potion the first time. He realized he would probably have to have the coming conversation while lying in bed, making him look weaker than he wanted to appear.
He sighed again and began mentally preparing how he was going to say this.
Ron and George walked solemnly into the Great Hall and sat with the other two Weasleys and Hermione.
"Hey, how was flying? Where's Harry?" Fred asked. Noticing their depressed moods, he furrowed his eyebrows. "What's wrong you two?"
George and Ron looked at each other grimly. Hermione immediately figured out what was going on, her own smile deflating.
"Harry needs to talk to you after dinner," Ron said gravely to his brother and sister.
Fred's expression turned serious. "Did you find out what's been going on?" he asked his twin. George nodded numbly.
"Yes, but I think you two need to hear it from Harry."
"Hear what from Harry? What's going on? Something's wrong?" Ginny asked worriedly.
"Gin, you'll find out after dinner, just please, don't ask us questions right now," Ron said.
"I'm done with dinner," she said putting down her silverware, having barely touched her food.
"He needs a bit of time, so you're going to have to wait," Ron said softly. Ginny dejectedly picked up her fork and began stabbing at her potato.
"I take it that it's something bad," Fred said looking at his twin's expression.
George nodded.
"Why does everything always have to happen to Harry? Doesn't he deserve a break?" Ginny muttered angrily.
Suddenly, all the doors to the Great Hall burst open simultaneously and Death Eaters came swarming in.
Back in his dorm, Harry's scar suddenly began to burn and he felt overcome with cold. He knew what that meant. Voldemort had arrived.
He scrambled out of bed and grabbed the energy-boosting potion out of his nightstand drawer and gulped it down. He grabbed his wand and began racing downstairs toward what he knew would probably be his death.