Challenge #9
The Life Altering Disease Challege:
The wizarding world is far more advanced in medicine than the Muggle world, but they can't fix everything. What happens if one of the Harry Potter kids contracts a serious and possibly fatal disease which magic hasn't figured out how to cure yet? Will the wizard children treat them the same because of their Muggle disease, or will shunning and struggle be involved? Will they live or die, and what will their medication consist of? Will anyone pity them, and can they lead normal lives with love and school/work? You decide... write it up and let me know about it.
L7L7L7L7L7L7L7L7L7L7L7L7L7L7L7
"Oh, but Mr. Longbottom, don't worry. Much of the time these levels rise due to relatively trivial problems." The St. Mungo's nurse replied laying the paperwork with Neville's test results on a small nearby table.
Although this was meant as a comforting statement, Neville could still hear the nurse's high pitched voice in his head telling him that his test results were very rare and that something was definitely wrong. The young man sitting on hard, leather chair was unable to focus on the nurse's voice as she continued to talk.
"So, Sir, I would recommend a biopsy as soon as possible. Preferably tomorrow, if that's convient for you." She pointed over to an elderly woman behind the main desk, "Sandra will schedule your procedure. Good bye, I hope everything turns out all right."
"Thank you." Professior Mcgonagall said as Hermione Granger helped her dear friend, Neville Longbottom, out of his chair and guided the unstable man out to the main desk of St. Mungo's Hospital for Magical Maladies and Injuries.
pqpqpqpqpqpqpqpqpqpqpqpqpqpqpq
"Hermione, what am I going to to if the test results come back positive? What if I really have sometimes wrong with me and it's not just something trivial." He whispered to Hermione as they sat in the common room. "What if it's a liver problem that can't be treated with medication? What am I going to do? What am I suppose to do" Neville asked, turning his troubled eyes upon his distressed friend.
"Neville..." Hermione started, failing to find a way to comfort his internal fears as well as her own. "Neville...I...We will get through whatever it is that's going on. We... We'll just take it one day at a time. You have to have the test done. You're doing the best thing that can be done."
"I...I know."
pqpqpqpqpqpqpqpqpqpqpqpqpqpqpq
A biopsy. A liver biopsy. Neville wasn't afraid of the pain, he could take that. It was the results he was afraid of. No, he wasn't afraid of the sharp wands they would use or the magic they would perform. He was frightened from a small piece of white paper. The piece of paper that could change his life forever. A piece of paper that could take his entire world away from him in an instance.
Liver problems were serious, even in the wizarding world. His heart was pumping fast as his breath quickened. Lieing in bed, filled with panic that no one could console, he waited for tomorrow. The day that would change his fate.
pqpqpqpqpqpqpqpqpqpqpqpqpqpqpq
Neville began to drift back into consciousness as he recongized the place around him. He was surrounded by hard, cold floors and light blue curtain that separated his "room" from the other "rooms". Again, he was lieing on a bed, but this time it was not his own. Yes, he was in St. Mungo's.
Just as his vision was returned back to normal from the dark blurriness, his healer came in.
"Hello." He greeted a stern Professor Mcgonagall and a worried Hermione Granger, who returned this statement with a nervous nod of the head.
"Mr. Neville Longbottom, I'm Michael Sharrone, your healer." He paused for a moment as he shook Neville's clamy hand. "I am afraid that I have some unfortunate news for you. Your biopsy came back worse that expected. Your results show that you have what is called Chronic Livario Hepatitis. It's a rare, mostly muggle disease. Which is an immflamation of the liver and can be fatal. There are no magical remedies for this. There are, however, some difficult muggle medications that you can try. Although there is no guarantee that you will respond well to the medication, but it is at the moment our only option..."
Tears filled Hermione's eyes as the news she feared had come true. She watched as the young man sitting on the bed internally collaspe. His hopes and dreams for the future slowly vanishing from his face as panic and dread filled the void.
pqpqpqpqpqpqpqpqpqpqpqpqpqpqpq
After apparating back to Hogwarts, Neville rested on his Gryffindor bed as he had so many times before. Before all of this had happened. Before he had gotten sick. He made Hermione promise not to inform his fellow seventh years of his new condition. He didn't want anything to be different. He wanted to go back to the same Hogwarts he always knew, even if he, himself, was no longer the same.
What if this disease took his life? What if one day he just died in his sleep? What if he left for Christmas break and never came back to Hogwarts? Maybe that would be easier. He could just die alone. Maybe his grandmother would be at his side. That way by the time school started up after Christmas no one would really remember him. He would just have been a wondering blurred face among the crowds that no one would remember.
L7L7L7L7L7L7L7L7L7L7L7L7L7L7L7
That's all for now. Just to let you know, this isn't going to be a Hermione and Neville story. I'm aware it's short, but I'm trying to organize the rest of the story out at the moment. Thank you for reading!
Please feel free to tell me what you think, I'd love to know of ways I could improve my writing.
Thank you again,
ForgottenExpectations