Notes: Hi... I'm procrastinating... school starts tomorrow and I still don't havemy summer work done... anyway...
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"Harry!" Hermione called. "Stop!" Harry stopped, quite annoyed.
"What is it?"
"It's foolish to go to Knockturn Alley now. It's freezing cold, and it's almost dark. If a death eater didn't catch you, then a flu would! Plus, he might not have been -"
"Remember the last time you thought I was 'wrong' about Malfoy?" Harry said heatedly. He turned and walked away quickly.
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Knockturn Alley was more deserted than Diagon Alley. No one was in the streets, and only one store had its lights on – the same one they'd seen Malfoy in last year. Harry snuck up to Borgin and Burkes and peeked in the window.
But Malfoy was nowhere to be seen. Harry cursed under his breath. He probably left long ago, he told himself. He wouldn't linger where so many death eaters were, especially since he is on Voldemort's bad side.
Harry stood up to leave. He figured that he'd better hurry, before the sun went down completely. It would be hard to get out of Knocturn Alley in the dark. Just then, someone grabbed Harry around the waist and dragged him into Borgin and Burkes.
"Been snooping, have we?" A gruff voice said in Harry's ear. "Now ya get to see what we do to snoopers…" Harry tried to scream, but the man dragging him caught him by the throat. The hand nearly wrapped the whole way around his neck."No, none o' that."
Harry was thrown roughly by the throat into the back room of Borgin and Burkes. He soon found out that this man was not Borgin – he had never seen this man before, but the mark on his left forearm clearly showed which side he was on. He was a very large man. Harry thought that the only person he knew of that could take him on was Hagrid, who was miles away. "Kind o' funny, isn't it? All those big shot death eaters lookin' to kill ya, and here ya show up right in front o' me." The man got very close to Harry's face. "Thanks for makin' it so easy."
Harry stood up, pushing himself against the wall that he had recently been thrown against. He pulled out his wand and pointed it at the man. The man laughed. "Goin' to fight me, are ya?"
"No." Harry said ashis mind searched for a spell, any spell, to use against the man.
"Good." The man said. He punched Harry on the side of the head, making Harry's head hit against the wall and sending his glasses flying. Harry sunk to the ground, but then pulled himself back up again. The man hit him again, smirking and enjoying every second of it.
Harry pulled himself up for the third time. He had an idea."Expecto partonum." Harry said with a shakey voice. Prongs shot out and went galloping through the store. Hopefully Ron and Hermione hadn't left Diagon Alley yet…
"Callin' yer little friends?" The man said, smirking at Harry. The man came up to Harry quickly, grabbing him by the throat again. "Well, it's too late. We'll see how easy they find ya when yer dead!" Harry was dragged outside and across the street, where the man threw him into a pile of snow. "Stupefy!" Harry saw a bolt of red light coming at him, and then everything went dark.
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When Harry woke up, he was looking at a fireplace, bursting with bright orange flames. He didn't know where he was, or what had happened. All he did know was that he was extremely cold, and he felt like he had the worst flu ever imagined. Someone said something, but Harry didn't quite catch it. The voice was familiar, though.
The view of the fire was blocked by Hermione's face. "Thank goodness you're awake! We were starting to think that you'd never wake up." Harry was going to ask what happened, but the signal from his brain to his mouth got lost somewhere. "That should teach you to run off with silly ideas. Here, drink this." She helped him sit up, and then handed him a steaming cup of tea. Harry's hands were shaking so hard that he nearly spilt it all over himself.
"What happened?" he asked, finally able to speak again.
"You don't remember?" Harry shook his head. "You ran off trying to chase down Malfoy into Knockturn Alley – when it was freezing outside and nearly dark! Apparently you ran into a death eater, who threw you into the snow, stunned you, and left you for dead. Good thing we hadn't left Diagon Alley yet."
Not one of my better decisions, Harry thought. Hermione was still glaring at him. "You're lucky we found you."
"Okay, okay – it was a bad choice on my part. Will you drop it now?" Harry handed the cup back to her and lied back down. He felt like he was going to die – every part of him ached. "Where are we?" Harry asked her.
"The Burrow. We originally took you back to Fred and George's shop, but this morning Mrs. Weasley came by and insisted on bringing you here."
Harry nodded, trying to clear his mind. Mrs. Weasley was being nice to him again? Ginny must have said something… He closed his eyes and tried to sleep, but he was shivering so badly that he could barely keep still. Hermione covered him up with another blanket. Why am I so cold? He thought. Hermione was only in light pajamas, and she looked very warm – where as Harry was under several blankets and next to a large fire, and freezing like he was naked inside a giant ice cube.
Hermione eventually left him, and not long afterward Ron entered the room. "Hey Harry." He said, sitting on a nearby armchair. "It's so hot down here."
"I'm freezing." Harry said quietly. His throat had suddenly started hurting badly.
"You don't look or sound good at all." You think? Harry thought, too weak to say what he thought.
Mrs. Weasley came into the room quickly and immediately began fussing over Harry. He tried to push her away, saying that he only wanted to sleep, but it was no use. After painfully swallowing ten different potions and continually saying that he would be okay, she went back into the kitchen.
Harry moaned and turned over on the couch. The side of his head hurt worse than his throat, but all the pain was starting to go away. He stared at the fire until the potions made him fall asleep.
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Almost a week later, Harry was even worse than he had been. Mrs. Weasley guessed that it was going to take a lot of time for him to recover; no matter how much potion he took.
Harry lied in the same spot in complete agony. His body hurt worse than ever, and his chest burned every time he breathed. He couldn't swallow anything because of his throat. Mrs. Weasley decided that it was time to take him to St. Mungo's.
The healer at St. Mungo's examined Harry and then left the room. As Harry waited for him to return, Ron joined him in the room. "I spend far too much time in this place." Ron said, taking a seat across the room.
"Where's your mum?" Harry said hoarsely.
"Talking with the healer. I figured you wouldn't want to be left alone in here for very long." The healer reentered, followed by Mrs. Weasley. Hermione stood in the doorway.
"Well Harry," the healer said, "it appears that you have the Wizard's Flu."
"The what?" Harry said. He didn't know wizards had their own brand of a virus.
"Yes. Much like the regular flu, except it only attacks magical people. The symptoms are more severe, however. So, you'll be needing to take these." He said, holding up a bag with several bottles in it. He handed the bag to Mrs. Weasley. "And you should be better in a week or so. Lots of rest, no running around – especially outside. Stay indoors. And don't stress yourself too much."
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"Harry, did you already forget what the healer said?" Hermione said.
"I'm not doing anything stressful." Harry replied. He was back at the Burrow, climbing the stairs slowly.
"I know what you're doing."
"What is it then?"
Hermione sighed. "Harry, I'm just worried that you'll -"
"I'm fine Hermione. I'm tired of being on that couch."
"But it's nearly time for dinner."
"I'll be down in a second." Hermione left him and went back downstairs, and Harry kept going up. He was going to do something, but he didn't want to tell Hermione that. He needed to get to Grimmauld Place, but since he couldn't go outside to apparate, and the only floo-able fireplace was downstairs….
Harry walked cautiously to Ron's room. He knew Ron wasn't there (it was almost time to eat – Ron would be wherever the food was). He went slowly into the room and opened a window. The icy air flew into his face. Outside was still covered in tons snow, so much that the trees' branches were just sitting on top of it.
He stuck his wand out the window. There was only one way to leave without being seen. He hoped that he was strong enough to do a spell. "Accio invisibility cloak." He said quietly. The spell didn't get a foot away from him, when he fell to his knees, nearly dropping his wand out of the window. He felt weaker than ever.
"Harry!" Hermione said, throwing the door open. "I knew it." She went over to him and helped him up, shutting the window. "You shouldn't be doing magic when you're this sick."
Harry nodded and pushed her off of him, not wanting to hear anymore of her lectures. "I figured that out, thanks."
"Do you know why they call it the Wizard's flu?" she asked.
"No, but I bet you're going to tell me." Harry muttered, stumbling downstairs slowly.
"It's because it doesn't only attack you're body - It attacks your magic as well."
"What?" Harry said, stopping halfway to the next step.
"It attacks your magic." She repeated. "Hence why muggles never get it, and why the symptoms are more severe."
"So I can't do magic?"
"Not for at least another week. I knew you were going to try to, so I followed you." She admitted, looking a little embarrassed. "What's so important anyway? Don't even say horcrux."
"Okay then, Voldemort's-magical-soul-splitting-thingy."
"A horcrux isn't worth your health."
"Yes it is." Harry said, turning to her. "It's worth my health, my sanity, and my life. Whatever it takes to get rid of him for good."
"You'll never be able to fight Voldemort if you are so weak that you can't walk properly." Harry sighed and continued down the stairs. "No, Harry, listen to me!" she said, coming up in front of him. "You might not want my help, but I'm going to give it to you anyway. I know I can't stop you from fighting Voldemort, but I can stop you from killing yourself before you get there!"
"I never said I didn't want your help."
"Good." She floated him in the air. "Then you won't object to me taking this." She pulled his wand out of his hand.
"Hermione!" Harry said, struggling against the spell.
"I'm sorry Harry, but this is for your own good. Now come on. Mrs. Weasley will be worried if we don't show up for dinner." She floated him down the stairs and into a chair at the table, slipping his wand into her pocket.
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End notage: Don't be angry at Hermione. There's a very good reason (other than the obvious) that she took his wand. foreshadowing