Chapter 6

Sighs of Relief

            It was a good thing that Ron and Hermione had finished their homework before Harry had taken ill again, because neither of them could concentrate on their schoolwork the next day. Ginny too, was going about her classes in a daze.

            The news about the accident in the Hospital Wing had gotten around the school by now, but the teachers' answers to students' questions were deliberately vague. Hermione, Ron and Ginny were the only ones who knew it had something to do with Harry. They repeatedly asked after Harry every chance they got.

            "His condition is serious, but he is stable for now," Professor McGonagall told them at lunch. "The doctor says we can only wait."

            Hermione couldn't even concentrate in Arithmancy, her favorite class. And for Ron, Divination was even worse. Professor Trelawney made several dire predictions about dark-haired people born under the sign of Leo. As usual, she didn't name anyone in particular, but Harry was a Leo, and she kept gazing at Ron as she made these predictions. It was made even worse by the fact that without Harry, Ron had to partner Lavendar and Parvati. They always believed everything Trelawney said and kept shooting him sympathetic glances all through class. Ron had to fight hard to stop his temper getting the better of him, especially since he knew that Harry's situation was worse than they knew. It was a good thing that the Gryffindor fifth-years didn't have Potions that day or Snape would have been at them for sure.

            Dinner came and found them distractedly pushing their food around their plates. Hermione had borrowed Ron's Divination book and was skimming the section on seers with her fork forgotten in her hand. Ron, after having hardly eaten a bite, was picking his roll to bits.

            "There's hardly anything in here about seers at all," Hermione said dejectedly.

            "Trelawney didn't think we needed it. Why should we when we can watch her?" Ron snorted derisively.

            "Well, we'll just have to look up trance fever in the library then."

            "Hermione, don't you think it might look a bit odd for you to be looking up trance fever when everyone knows you don't take Divination?"

            Her reply was cut off by Hedwig swooping into the Great Hall. She flew straight to the high table where the teachers had finished dinner and dropped a note next to Dumbledore's tea cup. They watched anxiously as Dumbledore read the note, knowing that it must be about Harry, or else Hedwig would not have left his bedside.

            Dumbledore said a few brief words to Professor McGonagall, then rose and left the hall with Hedwig flying in his wake. Hermione and Ron started to get up to follow, but Professor McGonagall discreetly held up a warning hand and shook her head. They reluctantly sat back down.

            "What can have happened now?" said Ron in a low voice. Hermione shrugged helplessly.

            "I don't know. Maybe it'll be good news this time."

            They waited tensely all through the evening, but Professor McGonagall did not bring any news. Ginny joined them in the common room after dinner The three of them fought distractedly with their homework hoping that McGonagall would arrive at any moment with something to tell them, but midnight came without any word, and Hermione finally insisted that they go to bed.

***

            "I think he's over the worst of it now, Dumbledore."

            The mediwizard's voice sounded far away to Harry's groggy ears.

            "His case is completely unprecedented-"

            Figures, he thought tiredly.

            "-but even if it was a normal trance fever, there is no way he could have been prepared for this. It's no wonder he went down the way he did."

            "Will he be all right now?" The headmaster's voice.

            "Yes, he should be. However, he should have at least three days of bed rest before returning to his classes. The fever has exhausted him and he shouldn't be doing anything strenuous until he's had some time to recover. Even after three days he may tire easily for a little while. Give him about a week or so and he should be back to normal."

            Harry shifted uncomfortably in bed, wondering how he would ever feel normal again despite what the doctor-what was his name?-said. He was too weary and sore to react much to anything, but he knew it would pass and that everything would crash in on him again.

            "I've given Poppy a potion he should take for the next few days until the aches wear off. If he isn't well again in a week, I want her to owl me and I'll come back. The same goes for if this should happen again. With an illness as unique as this, he may need specialized care if this occurrence repeats itself."

            "I would very much appreciate it if you would keep the cause of Harry's affliction secret," said Dumbledore. "It would be most unfortunate for the wrong people to find out."

            "I will, sir. I should be going back now, but please don't hesitate to contact me again if he should need it."

            "Thank you, Sam. Are you sure you won't stay the night? Harry will want to thank you."

            "No, I can't. But he can find me at St. Mungo's should he want to talk to me. For now, just tell him I said to take care, would you?"

            "Of course. Thank you again."

            There was a sound of a fire roaring up briefly and a green flash as the mediwizard vanished into the Floo network. Harry shuddered, his aching body protesting. The light reminded him of another one he had seen far too much of over the last few days.

            He felt his blanket move to cover his bare shoulder, then Dumbledore sat down in a chair next to his bed. Harry focused his eyes blearily on his face.

            "How goes it, Harry?" asked Dumbledore softly.

            "Tired," Harry whispered.

            "Do you want anything?"

            Harry thought for a moment, then said, "Yeah. I want to hex Fudge into the next century." His voice, though still a whisper, shook with anger. "He blocked our warning, sir. I saw it."

            Dumbledore nodded gravely. "I was afraid of that."

            Harry swallowed hard before continuing. "Is there anything we could…do?"

            "Arthur Weasley will inform us if there is, though I think that you have already done all that could be asked of you."

            "It wasn't enough though, was it?" There was a bitterness in his tone that even his exhaustion could not hide.

            "Don't take on so, Harry," Dumbledore told him gently. "You did all that was in your power to do. It is not your fault that the minister did not."

            Harry still felt guilt growing, but he fought it back, knowing Dumbledore was right.

            "Sleep now," Dumbledore said, standing up. "I'll come back later."

            "Sir?"

            "Yes, Harry?"

            "Could you tell the Weasleys something for me?"

            "Anything."

            "Tell them that Charlie will be coming home very soon, and that they should be proud of him."

            For the first time that night, the familiar sparkle came into Dumbledore's eyes. "Of course. Rest now." He laid a gentle hand briefly on Harry's hair. Harry's eyes drooped drowsily, and he drifted off as the headmaster's footsteps retreated.

***

            Hermione, Ron and Ginny, not having had a mediwizard's reassurance, were nervous and ill-tempered the next morning from worry and troubled sleep. They made their way down to breakfast with the intention of questioning Professor McGonagall or Professor Dumbledore about Harry, but found in arriving in the Great Hall that neither of them were there.

            "Oh, now what'll we do?" groaned Ron.

            "It's obvious, isn't it?" Hermione said irritably. "We ask one of the other teachers where to find them.

            Ron opened his mouth to retort, but Ginny cut him off by saying, "Can we please not start fighting this early? Let's just go and ask."

            They approached Professor Flitwick.

            "The headmaster has left the school for a meeting," he said in reply to their queries. "Professor McGonagall is seeing to a few of his duties in his absence. But I believe you have Transfiguration today? She'll still be attending all of her classes, so you can speak to her then."

            The problem was, Transfiguration was their last class that day. Ron and Hermione had Potions first after breakfast, and Snape was even nastier than usual. Luckily, because of Hermione, their silencing potion was perfect, so Snape was only able to take five points from Ron for not paying attention.

            They tried to find Professor McGonagall again at lunch, but found out from Harry's house elf friend Dobby that she had ordered her lunch brought to her office so she could take care of some work during the break.

            "We don't have time to go all the way there before Herbology," said Hermione. "We'll just have to wait until Transfiguration."

            Herbology was the only class they had left before Professor McGonagall's, so Ron and Hermione headed out to the greenhouses. Professor Sprout's lesson that day temporarily distracted them, as they were being taught how to prune Devil's Snare, the viney, grabby plant they had faced their first year while searching for the sorcerer's stone. Because it was still daylight, the plant was both sulky and aggressive in turns, shying away from the light and lashing out whenever someone got close.

            "Bugger off!" snapped Ron, slapping a vine that was trying to sneak around his wrist.

            "Watch your feet, Ron!" Hermione batted another vine away from his ankles with a trowel while attempting to reach yet another vine with a pair of clippers in her other hand.

            In the end, Ron ended up tackling the vines in order for Hermione to trim off the dead leaves. They went to Professor McGonagall's classroom panting and brushing dirt from their robes.

            Professor McGonagall did not acknowledge them when they entered the room, but instead launched directly into discussion on the essay question they had been given in their last session (transfiguring people into cactuses or other such thorny objects is dangerous, discuss), leaving them no chance to ask about Harry. However, as the students packed up their things to leave at the end of class, she called to them.

            "Miss Granger, Mr. Weasley, would you stay for a moment, please?"

            Her facial expression gave nothing away as they went up to her desk while the rest of the Gryffindors filed out.

            "I thought you would like to know that Mr. Potter's fever broke last night," she told them when their classmates had gone.

            Ron and Hermione turned to each other happily.

            "How's he doing?" asked Ron. "Can we see him?"

            "Not yet, Mr. Weasley. He's resting quietly now. Madam Pomfrey will admit visitors tomorrow, just you two and your brothers and sister. Mr. Potter will still be in a delicate state for the next several days, and I must ask you not to question him about his illness."

            They weren't sure how to react to that last statement, but were too relieved to care. For now it was enough to know that Harry was going to be all right.