Chapter 27 –
The Fear Disease
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Weeks came and went, with Harry slowly settling into the life of teaching. His classes became quite enjoyable; feelings of pride and joy swelled inside him whenever one of his students learnt something new. His students. There was still the occasional snide remark from one of the Slytherins, or an overwhelmingly irritating meeting with one of his 'fans'.
Girls cornered him in the corridors, wanting autographs on parchment, pieces of their clothing, and even on some places of their bodies. Harry shooed them away, his annoyance and frustration growing almost every day. Hermione and the other professors told him to just ignore them, that everything would soon die down.
It was going into his first month as a professor at Hogwarts, and each day wasn't over until one such incident occurred. Earlier that morning, a seventh- year Ravenclaw girl had been in his office when he entered it before class. She had thrown herself upon him, delivering red-lipstick kisses over his entire face. He had only just managed to escape her desperate clutches, sprinting away to take refuge in an un-used Transfigurations room a floor above.
His face had been covered in red lip marks.
From that moment on, he swore to keep a permanent Barrier Charm around himself, preventing any unwanted persons from coming within a ten foot distance.
He had had enough.
That was one of the reasons that he and Hermione had decided to throw a housewarming party for their new apartment. They had been arranging it for a while, with that night being the only available date that was suitable for them and their other friends.
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Harry stood in front of a large, square mirror, scrutinizing his appearance through squinted eyes. "Stay down!" he hissed, trying – and failing – to flatten his hair. In the five years that he had been away, his hair had been manageable, sitting perfectly around his face.
It seemed as though its unruliness had been triggered by the magic, because ever since he had re-entered the Wizarding World, it had decided to pick up its old tricks.
And it was starting to frustrate him.
"Stupid hair," he growled, splashing great dollops of water onto his head. All he managed to do was create rivulets of cool water down his face and neck. He sighed.
"That's it dear; you can't have everything," his mirror told him with a sweet voice. Harry glared at his reflection before wiping down his shirt and pants, and walking from the room. the apartment of his and Hermione's was now decorated in homely touches; photographs, family objects and school items, such as a Quidditch Trophy that Harry had been given when his team had won the Quidditch Tournament in seventh year. Such things brought new, unknown but not unwelcome, emotions and feelings trickling through his being. It allowed him to remember and know that this was home. This was where he lived, with one of his best friends.
He had never had something so comforting.
The Living Room was decorated in light blues and white, the ceiling enchanted by Hermione to show the sky; it was nearing dark, with the great expanse of universe cast in a delicate shade of pink and gold, deepening into red and then black at the far edges of the horizon.
A fireplace sat opposite a semi-circle of armchairs and a long, curving leather sofa; decorated with fluffy red pillows, courtesy of Hermione. A great rectangular frame was perched atop the mantle. It was an intricately carved, dark ruby red wood, with it shining in the brightness in the room. And in its centre was a photograph.
Harry smiled out, his face happy, caught in eternal bliss, and at his sides was his family. Hermione and Ron stood on either side of him, their arms around each other, with broad smiles on each of their faces. Behind and around them was the Weasley Family, all of them minus the third son: the traitor. Like a forest of flaming trees, their hair glittered as if made from the very embers of a fire.
Harry went to Hogwarts small, alone and unloved.
And he left a tall man, alone, but with the love of an entire family. He was not born a Weasley; he didn't have flaming red hair or a face full of freckles.
He was not born to Arthur and Molly Weasley. Ron was not his brother. And the Burrow was not his home.
But they made him feel every part of that family. They made him feel like a Weasley. They made him feel home. Arthur and Molly were not his parents, but they were as close as anyone could ever be. Ron was the first friend he had ever made, and he would be his last friend, when the two of them were sitting together in rocking chairs, laughing at a joke long since forgotten. They were brothers.
The Weasley's were his family. No matter his hair colour, or freckle-less face. And the photo would forever be a reminder that he was not alone. That he was not unloved. The photo was a symbol of everything good and everything worth fighting for – everything worth dying for.
It was a family photograph.
Harry found himself staring at the twinkling smile on Ginny's face. She was standing on the other side of Hermione, her hand clamped within Harry's at the top of her shoulder. Her face was alight in the innocence of youth; eyes sparkling with the very life she deserved. She looked so carefree, so happy, and so beautiful, that Harry never wanted to look away lest she vanish.
"You know I love you, but I may get a little jealous if you kept staring at that photo," a voice said. Harry turned to see Ginny leaning against the frame of the front door, a soft smile playing at her lips. Harry grinned broadly.
"Hello gorgeous," he said as Ginny giggled. He took three long steps towards her and wrapped his arms around her petite body. Their lips met and they shared a passionate kiss, lost in their own timeless world.
"If you don't stop soon I may have to remove that tongue of yours, Harry, before you do something else with it." Ron said from the hallway as they stayed together a few seconds longer before pulling apart.
"Spoil sport," Harry muttered to his redheaded friend before releasing his girlfriend and giving Ron a one armed hug.
"First Ginny and now Ron, c'mon Harry, you can't have them all!" Hermione said in a humorous voice, as she left her bedroom.
Harry bowed his head and sighed loudly, wiping away an invisible tear. "I know, but you can't stop a guy from trying, can you?"
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The war was steadily growing.
Attacks were almost everyday now, with Aurors or Ministry Workers disappearing, to reappear a few days later, cold, lifeless ... dead. Fear was thick and stifling, running though the school and community like a contagious disease that everyone had caught. Witches and wizards kept their children inside at all times, not daring to let them out to play lest it be the last game they play. People stopped going to work, afraid that they would not return home that day.
The times were darkening, fear circulating, and still the Dark Lord stayed without name and face. Their spies returned from Death Eaters meetings sore, pale-faced and heads bowed. Everyone was scared and confused, not knowing who would be next to fall and not sure if they wanted to know.
The Hogwarts population was slowly decreasing; one to five students were taken from the school each week. Parents were frightened for their children's safety, thinking it would be best if they were at home, with them. But how wrong they were.
At Hogwarts was the best protection anyone could ever have. Harry was there, struggling to keep teaching and pretend the on-going battle was not happening. But, inside, he was being pulled apart.
Everyday he feared one of his friends would fall to the shadows. He was even scared for Severus Snape and Draco Malfoy, because they were the ones risking their lives each day, going into the centre of darkness, blind and relying on that tiny sliver of hope that resided in their caged hearts that everything would be fine. That they would walk away from everything one day, free from their past and the chains binding them to the darkness.
Days came and went, with the world holding its breath, waiting for the moment that everything would fall apart. Death was everywhere, no one was safe. Even the muggles had noticed the numerable and unknown deaths of many of their kind; their News Headlines were full of the mysterious fatalities and disappearances.
Both worlds were thrown into disordered chaos that only war could create. No one had seen such fear since the time of Voldemort, when no one had been safe, not even the Dark Lord's followers, who screamed as they were mercilessly tortured.
And still Harry put up a brave face, attending staff meetings at Hogwarts and Order Meetings in Grimmauld Place. Night had never seemed as dark as it was inside that house; the shadows seemed like the demons they were facing and the endless memories only intensified the fear inside them.
Harry made excuses to go and see the Weasley's at every chance he got. They were the only family he had and he was not going to let anything happen to them. Remus was now living at Hogwarts at McGonagall's orders, so Harry would not worry over the man, and so he would be closer to the Order.
Hermione and Harry sometimes sat in the silence of the Great Hall, long after the rest of the school had went to bed, in silent thought. For some reason, them being together in the place they grew up was comforting. It gave them hidden strength and the courage to keep going, to live through this war.
Sometimes, Ron joined them. The three of them would sit in the shadows, in their own little world, remembering other times when they had sat together in this same place, smiling, enjoying their youth. But, like those times, their much needed life was disrupted by the horrors of war. It seemed that they couldn't be together without something wanting to part them.
But, they still sat together, the three of them like old times.
Harry visited Ginny regularly, their relationship growing stronger at each passing second. Their love blossomed into a deep connection, many astounded that their love was as strong as it was while a battle raged on around them. Many thought it was amazing, and it was good for them both, especially Harry, to finally have something to live for.
But others didn't think it was such a great idea. With the Dark Lord targeting Harry, and trying to find ways to destroy him, his love for Ginny could be used against him. If word got out that they were together and very much in love, it could turn very nasty extremely quickly.
No one wanted Harry to lose anyone else close to him, as it would be just enough to tear him in two. But, as Harry and Ginny stayed together, the fear grew as to how long their love would last, and how long before, once again, Harry lost another loved one.
Some time near the end of October, when Harry and Hermione had invited over Ron, Ginny, Luna and Neville, Ginny fell ill. Apparently it was a stomach bug, as Mr. Weasley had caught it as well, and was bed-ridden for the good part of a week. So the get-together went on, with Harry laughing here and there, wondering if she was all right, and if he would be able to visit her at the Burrow.
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It was a few weeks later, when Mr. Weasley fell incredibly sick. The stomach bug had returned, forcing the Minister to step down from his post and seek much needed rest. But no matter how much of Molly's soup he had, it wouldn't stay down. Gradually, he grew worse, his body slowly deteriorating as the illness savagely attacked his body.
In the middle of November, he was admitted to St Mungo's.
The Healer's were baffled as to what was wrong with him, as his symptoms weren't placed with any Magical or Muggle disease they had ever seen. He didn't have a fever, but quite the reverse. His body was incredibly cold and no amount of fire, potions or blankets could keep him warm.
He was placed in an Intensive Care Unit, in a private room that was magically heated and isolated incase his sickness became contagious.
Harry, Hermione and the other Weasley's visited him almost every day, as well as some of the Family's close friends. And while Mr Weasley was sick in hospital, Ron was the new replacement Minister. Many doubted his abilities as a leader and political figure, remembering him as a goofy boy from Hogwarts, and Harry Potter's 'side-kick'.
Ron proved them all wrong, and unleashed a large amount of potential as a future leader, showing great abilities at figuring out problems and creating strategies that will help them in the war-effort. He sometimes contacted Harry and Hermione, to ask them for their opinion or answers. They answered him with much enthusiasm, knowing Ron was the perfect man to take over his father's position.
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On one such visit to Mr. Weasley's hospital room, Harry and the others were sitting around Arthur's bed, talking politics. Ginny was now well again, her own strike with the stomach-bug having passed, leaving her a little frazzled but still quite well. When a comfortable silence fell on the group, Harry told them he was going for some coffee, and left the room with a soft smile.
I hope he gets better soon, Harry thought with a frown, walking down the white corridors of Mungo's. As he turned a corner to head to the Tea Room, he froze in his tracks. Draco Malfoy was walking quickly towards him, his hair in disarray, clothes dirty and face paler than usual. When he caught sight of Harry, he broke into a run, skidding to a halt in front of him, his eyes fearful.
"Malfoy, what is it?" Harry said hurriedly, knowing that there was meant to be Death Eater meeting that night, and for Malfoy to come here in the state he was in, something bad must have happened.
"Potter," he said quickly, his grew eyes flickering to each side for any sign of listeners.
"Spit it out already! What happened?" Harry hissed, a sickening feeling spreading through his body. Draco's eyes rested on his and Harry saw the great fear and regret inside the steely depths.
"The Minister has been poisoned," the words, spoken so softly, cut through Harry's heart.
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Disclaimer - I do not own Harry Potter and never will.
Howdy!
Duh duh duh!
The mystery unfolds. Mr. Weasley has been poisoned – What was the poison used? Will he pull through? No one knows, not even me.
This chapter took ages to come out because I didn't know what to write and I'm still not happy with it. I might speed this story up, because I want to finish it. This is the longest story I've ever written, as of chapter twenty-two, and I feel it's getting boring as I keep going. So I will speed this up, with the next chapter the full details on Mr. Weasley's illness, if there is a cure, who poisoned him, telling the family and all that. So until then...
Please review and thanks to those that have so far!
And a humungous thanks to Quillian for sending me the lyrics to the song at the start of the chapter. You rock! And though the lyrics don't really go with this chapter, I thought they were good for a Harry Potter story. Thanks again!
Later Days...
DW