Under the Weather part 4.


After that the rain-sodden class didn't seem quite so drab anymore. Even though they eventually got their hilarity under control, it took only a shared look set them off again. Hagrid even had to wave them over to return their Flobberworms back into their terrarium at the end of class (Harry guiltily thought his had drowned until a wriggle and a spray of water proved otherwise).

Just as they were starting off back to the castle, the gates of heaven opened and rain poured down in a thick curtain. As one the Gryffindors and Slytherins bolted for the main gate, a scuffle ensuing when fifteen people at once tried to get through the door. Harry, Hermione and Ron sprinted in last, skidding to a halt to avoid running into the other students who had stopped right past the door.

Bedraggled, they looked at each other. Hermione slowly lowered her cloak, which she had pulled up over her head to protect her hair. Ron shook himself like a dog, making Harry and Hermione turn away to avoid the spray. Harry looked down at puddle that was forming where he stood and grimaced, resigned to his fate. It was just going to be one of those days.

"You think that got rid of Malfoy's goo?" Ron said, craning his neck to see.

Hermione grunted, wiping rain from her face. "If that didn't do it, nothing will. Sometimes I hate living in Scotland. Why couldn't it have been Waikiki? Heck, even Bournemouth would be an improvement."

"Say, Hermione, will you do that drying spell again before lunch?" asked Ron, wringing his sleeves. "I'll risk the hair in exchange for being dry."

"Yes, okay," agreed Hermione. "Maybe if I tilt my wrist a little in the swish and reduce the speed of my wand just a fraction in the flick the result won't be as exaggerated as before, do you think that would work?"

Harry and Ron looked at each other, shrugged, then turned back to her, each lifting one eyebrow.

"Oh, honestly," said Hermione, though fondly. "Who first?"

Harry stepped back and held up his hands. "Look, you go on ahead," he said. "But I'm going to catch a quick shower and change my clothes upstairs. I'll catch up with you later."

"But Harry, Hermione can dry your clothes just as quickly as she did this morning," said Ron. "You don't want to miss lunch, do you? You already missed breakfast."

Harry shrugged in his creased and itchy robes, starting to shiver again as the damp clothes' coolness penetrated to his skin. "You see how you like your clothes after drying them with that spell. I'm going upstairs. Anyway, I had Quidditch practice remember; I really want a hot shower. And if I hurry I might still have some lunch."

"Okay then," said Ron, a look on his face that clearly stated he thought Harry mad for quitting on food. "See you in a bit."

"We'll save you some toast," added Hermione, pulling out her wand to perform the Exaresco charm on her and Ron as they made their way to the great hall, while Harry gave a wave and turned up the stairs.

As soon as he was alone he dropped his pretence and wrapped his arms tightly around himself. He really was freezing, more so than he'd been all day, and he was getting real tired of it too. His clothes felt rough against his skin and he wasn't bothered about lunch at all. Food was about the last thing on his mind. He was sure that a good long shower would clear the cold from his bones and soak the stress from his Quidditch-weary limbs. Much as he loved to fly, Wood was really pushing it a bit too far this term. They'd had four practices this week already, and the next waiting for them on early Saturday morning. Harry promised himself that Sunday he'd sleep 'till noon, while trying to suppress the little voice in the back of his head that insisted that Wood was very likely to plan a training then too.

"I'll stuff his head down Moaning Myrtle's toilet if he does," Harry muttered to himself, grabbing the railing near the top of the stairs as his vision blurred a little in dizziness.

He stopped a moment and blinked to get rid of the spots before his eyes. After a few seconds, he continued on his way. He really must be tired if the trek up Gryffindor tower was affecting him this way. He didn't usually get this out of breath, did he?

With effort Harry dragged himself up the last steps and rounded the corner to the Fat Lady's painting, keeping his hand on the wall for support and panting a little.

"You're looking a bit peaky," said the Fat Lady, eyeing him. "Are you going in for a lie down? I hope you did inform a teacher you'd be missing classes."

"It's lunchtime," said Harry distractedly. "I'll be down in time for next class. Antipodean Opaleye."

"Yes, yes," said the Fat Lady, sighing. "No one's ever up to a natter, are they?" But before she could get into it Harry had already slipped through the opening.

There was no one in the common room and he crossed it slowly, his head down as he tried to get his breath back and ignore the headache that was taking it up another notch. He made his way up to the dormitory with heavy feet, feeling very dizzy and puzzled because of it. He hoped he just needed a good sleep and wasn't coming down with something. With the amount of Quidditch practice scheduled, he really didn't want to get a cold on top of it. Losing sleep and getting rained on more than once a day was bad enough.

Entering the common room and catching sight of his Firebolt resting against his bed, he berated himself sharply. Rain or not, he loved flying and should be happy to do it whatever the circumstances, not complain about it all the time, even if only in his own head. If he had to choose between sitting dry and warm in his bed at Privet Drive or flying in sleet and hail at Hogwarts... well, it was no contest, was it?

He peeled off his wet clothes and padded to the bathrooms, squinting without his glasses. He hopped into a shower stall and turned the water on as hot as he could stand, immersing himself in the more than welcome heat. Harry sighed in relief as the hot water washed away the grime, sweat and rain, and his tired muscles relaxed under the massaging spray. He rinsed his hair and soaped himself up, then put both hands on the wall and let the water engulf and soothe him for a long time. Finally the cold that had crept into his bones retreated, and as the tension in his shoulders left him his headache lessened to a much more manageable level.

Reluctantly, he finally turned off the faucets and dried off. Back in his dormitory he dressed slowly, sitting on the edge of his bed. It would be so easy just to fall backwards and dose off, Harry thought. Just close his heavy eyes and let his body relax in the fluffy covering and forget about classes and boggarts and detentions. He felt very comfortable now, all rosy and warm and sleepy. He leant against one of the bed posters, closing his eyes a minute before setting off to lunch. . .

The next thing he knew he toppled sideways off the bed as a loud slam sounded through the dormitory.

"Harry!" said Neville, oblivious to Harry's close encounter with the carpet as he hurried over to his own bed. "Came to change too, huh? Just five minutes to class, you know. Where's my socks? Don't I have any other socks?" He disappeared head first into his trunk.

Meanwhile, Harry pushed himself off the floor and stood up dazedly. Had he actually fallen asleep sitting upright? He brushed his fingers through his damp hair, rubbed at his eyes, then shook himself and gathered his bag and wand. Somewhat bemused he watched Neville rage war on his wardrobe.

Clothes were spouting from Neville's trunk like a geyser, covering his bed and the floor. Finally Neville's head popped from the collar of his dry robes and he jumped into his trainers. "Ready to go then, Harry?" he said, panting.

Harry nodded, straightening his glasses. "Sure, let's go."

"You know how McGonagall hates it when we're late," said Neville, hurrying down the staircase, only prevented from tripping on the hem of his robe and rolling down the stairs by Harry's seeker-quick grab for his shoulder.

Four minutes later they slinked into McGonagall's classroom just under the arm of the exasperated looking teacher as she was closing the door. Harry slunk to his usual seat between Ron and Hermione and quickly fished his Transfigurations book from his bag, trying to ignore the fact that the short run to the classroom had once again made him dizzy and out of breath.

"Took you long enough," said Ron from the corner of his mouth.

"I was waiting for Neville," whispered Harry, skipping round the truth. He took slow breaths to get his equilibrium back, then noticed how Hermione's hair, which had been loose and flowing just that morning, was pulled back tightly and wound into a strict bun not unlike the one McGonagall wore. "Changing the swish and flick in that spell did nothing to help the hair problem, did it?" Harry managed to grin at her.

"Nope," said Hermione, looking disgruntled.

Ron chuckled. "It was worse than yours, if you can believe it." His own hair looked the same as ever.

"Oh, I can believe it–"

"Open your books to chapter 12, please!" McGonagall snapped, cutting off all conversation.

For the rest of the class Harry, Ron and Hermione had no more chance to talk, as McGonagall held her students on a tight leash, teaching them about transfiguring water into tea. Harry had difficulty keeping up, finding that sleeping upright for fifteen minutes in the middle of the day did not leave one feeling refreshed and rested. He phased in and out of the explanatory part, feeling his headache return steadily, and then performed his spells particularly unfocussed. By the end of class, when Hermione had managed an apple/strawberry blend, and even Ron had scrounged a weak brew, Harry was still staring dully at his, now slightly muddy looking, water. McGonagall wasn't pleased.

"You seem a bit out of it, Harry," said Hermione worriedly, as they made their way to their last class of the day. "Are you sure you're feeling all right?"

"I would if you'd stop asking me that," grumbled Harry, rubbing his temples.

"It's a normal question," Hermione said, looking at him.

"Well, give it a rest, will you?" said Harry

Hermione looked offended and stared at the floor before her. "Fine," she said.

But Harry was already regretting his shortness. "Look, I'm sorry," he said contritely. "It's just this headache I've got and it's making me cranky, I guess."

"Maybe you should go to the hospital wing," Hermione offered, forgiving him instantly. "Madam Pomfrey has about a thousand different cures for all kinds of headaches."

"Nah," said Harry, brushing this off. The last place he wanted to be was the hospital wing. He could just hear Madam Pomfrey going on again about how fragile he was to begin with. No way was he spending more time in there, he'd been there enough for the year. "Probably I just need some food and I'll be fine."

"Yeah, you missed breakfast and lunch," said Ron, looking awed at the amount of food missed out on. "That can't be good."

"Just one more class and then dinner," said Hermione. "You really should eat something, Harry, it's not good studying on an empty stomach. And I've read somewhere that dehydration actually leads to a headache, so you probably just need to drink some water and you'll be fine."

"I think I've seen enough water today," said Harry, motioning to the window where the outside world was still looking decidedly wet. "Anymore water and I'll drown."

"Still though," muttered Hermione, but to Harry's relief she quit the subject as they entered Binn's classroom.

Harry was glad that the final class was History of Magic. It meant he didn't have to actively participate in any spell-making, that the teacher would pay him no mind whatsoever, and that he could afford not to pay attention at all with a clear conscience, for Hermione's quill scribbled down all the essential notes necessary. After half-heartedly listening to Binns for five minutes, he completely zoned out. After ten he rested his head on his arms on his desk, and after fifteen he was dosing the remaining time away.

TBC