Visitors Galore
(A/N: First up, I the author would like to say: I'M SORRY! To everyone, I have really let you down with the delay of this story, I know how many of you have been waiting impatiently (and with your e-mails and reviews I can tell that your tempers are running low), and I only hope this longer chapter will make it up to you.
If you notice my xanga entries and other scattered journals about the web you'll see why I left it for so long. Plus my Harry Potter craze left me for a while (what must I have been thinking?). Please don't hate me! Well, you can if you want. But I'd prefer it if you didn't.
BIG HUGS FOR YOU ALL! AND COOKIES!
Oh, by the way, the flu information I found on this site: http/www.cdc.gov/flu/keyfacts.htm
Just that I have no right to claim it, lol. On with the story!
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Harry was bored.
It was his second day off school, and he really didn't want to surface from his room. If he even tried to take a step into the hallway, his aunt was not far away to pounce on him like a cat. An angry cat, who would prefer to scratch out his eyes than rather listen to another one of his sniffs or complaints.
He flopped down on the bed nosily, and stared at the ceiling. He clicked his heels together, and sighed. He shut his eyes, and tried to stop spinning.
Nothing worked.
He had to find out how to get rid of this bloody cold. At that moment, he would have given anything to be healthy again. Even if 'anything' meant painting Uncle Vernon's shed – twice. Grabbing a medical book from the shelf, his eyes scanned for 'flu'. That's what the school nurse said, and she was usually right. Usually.
Harry could read quite well for an eight year old, it had been mentioned.
"Flu...flu...oh. Flu," he choked aloud, finding the page and squinting to see the words.
What is the Flu? the passage read.
The flu is a contagious respiratory illness caused by influenza viruses. It can cause mild to severe illness, and at times can lead to death.
Harry didn't know whether it was best to shut the book and scream into his pillow, or continue reading. Death! Death! It had to be an understatement. Or something that belonged in Sir Gawain's time.
It went on to say:
While most healthy people recover from the flu without complications, some people, such as older people, young children, and people with certain health conditions, are at high risk for serious complications from the flu.
"I'm healthy," Harry said. "Not right now, but I am. I think..."
Older people: that didn't count. He wasn't old. Not yet. He had a loose tooth, but it probably didn't match under losing your teeth.
Young children: damn.
People with certain health conditions: unless that meant living with the Dursleys, Harry couldn't see that being a connection with him.
Symptoms: Fever (usually high), headache, tiredness (can be extreme), cough, sore throat, runny or stuffy nose, body aches, diarrhoea and vomiting -
"Oh, great," Harry sighed, dropping his head into a hand. He couldn't get that...
Some of the complications caused by the flu include bacterial pneumonia, dehydration, and worsening of chronic medical conditions, such as congestive heart failure, asthma, or diabetes. Children and adults may develop sinus problems and ear infections.
Although this new information discomforted him (he really didn't want to end up with a sinus problem for the rest of his years), he still wanted to know how long this would last, and what to do to get rid of it. He flicked tiresomely through the many pages concerning Habits for good health (bit late for that), and found ways to respond to it.
If you get the flu, get plenty of rest, drink a lot of liquids, and avoid using alcohol and tobacco. Illness can last for up to 2 to 7 days, sometimes longer.
"Longer, longer, longer," Harry moaned, slamming the book and throwing it onto the end of his bed. "It'll be longer with me, it always is."
Then he hit his head on the bookshelf by getting up too fast. A headache on top of a headache, he knew bitterly, and rubbed it tenderly with a shaking hand.
Rap! Rap! went the door. Harry groaned, and covered his ears.
"Come on out of there!" Petunia commanded. "You've been in all morning, you lazy boy!"
Harry felt as if his head would burst from the pain. Blinking and protecting his ears, he groaned again: "Sorry, Aunt Petunia, I've just got up."
"That's a lie!" she snapped. "I've heard you moving around and knocking things over. If that room's a mess you'll know who'll be cleaning it up, don't you? Now come on!" Rap! "Get up and get out!"
Eh, go away! Harry wanted to shout. Miserable old bat!
"Yes, Aunt Petunia."
He threw on some clothes, put the book back and stumbled into the kitchen, where he began pouring himself some orange juice. His head felt a little heavy, as if it would fall off his shoulders if he leant over too far. He steadied himself, and downed the glass, pouring another when he had finished.
"Slow down with that juice, boy," Petunia said. "You'll drink it all."
"I need it," Harry shot back. "The book said so."
"Well I'm 'saying so'," was the comeback. "Put it away."
Harry threw her a death glare, and obeyed. Stupid Aunt Petunia, stupid cold. He busied himself by washing his glass too, knowing that she would probably spot that with her sharp eyes. He ruffled at his hair, and trundled towards the door.
He hadn't gone far however, when he heard:
"Where are you going? Aren't you going to eat something?"
Harry paused dead in his tracks. Normally, his aunt couldn't care less if she served him a crumb of cake for his supper. He wondered if this cold was causing him to hear strange things.
"Unless it's soup," he played cleverly. "Or it won't help."
"Is that what the book told you? You'll eat what you're given, or you won't eat."
Harry's mouth must have dropped open in protest by the look on his aunt's face. He felt as if she wasn't hearing him at all. It wouldn't do him any good to have bacon and eggs like the rest of the happy family, he needed liquids! He wanted to cut out big letters and paste it above the kitchen to make a point.
HARRY NEEDS LICKUIDS!
"But...Aunt Petunia - "
He was silenced by the sound of the door knocking away, and turned. Not wanting to wait around for Petunia to say: "Go on then! What are you waiting for!" he slipped into the hallway and slowly opened the door.
A girl stood smiling up at him, holding out a tray of what looked like...well, Harry couldn't quite tell what it was. Her blue eyes twinkled behind a sea of golden hair, a pretty smile chipped into her face.
"Betsy!" he exclaimed. "What are you doing here?"
"Bringing you a present," she smiled, holding out the dish. "It's to help with your cold. My mum made it," she added, with an uneasiness that Harry didn't like.
What, she's not a good cook?
"Oh. Thanks," he sniffled, staring at the food. "What is it?"
"Spicy beef and lentil stew," she replied. "We looked up everything that could help with a cold, and we found that. Since we had some beef for tea last night, we left some for you." She blushed, pointed and said: "I put some garlic in. It helps with mucus flow."
"Oh," Harry said, a bit lost for words (and feeling a little embarrassed). "T-thanks, Betsy. I'm sure it tastes great." I hope.
Now it was Betsy's turn to feel shy. She giggled her incessant giggle and turned about on her heels, folding out the creases of her dress. "I thought I'd come and see if you're feeling ok. My mum was going to take me to school, and I thought - "
"What's taking you so long?"
Aunt Petunia peered out into the street, as if expecting Harry had been pulled out from his prison and into the sunshine. She frowned down at Betsy as if she were a snail caught on the road, and said:
"Who are you?"
"Bets - "
"No-one," Harry said quickly, winking at Betsy. "She's someone from school, who came by to give me something, Aunt Petunia." He kept the dish tucked under his arms, away from her gaze and smiled pathetically at her. He tried to show some apology towards Betsy too, but it was hard.
She seemed to understand.
"I'll see you back at school, Harry," she smiled. "My mummy's getting bored of waiting." And she turned and scurried back to the car.
Petunia watched the girl and her mother until they had vanished from sight, and then rounded back on the grinning boy. Her eyes were cast under that dangerous frown that Harry thought best to steer clear from, and he stepped back into the hallway towards his room.
"Who was that girl?" Petunia asked suspiciously. "What did she give you?"
"Nothing, I told you," Harry said, edging closer to the cupboard.
"Don't say that to me! What did she give you?"
Harry didn't know why he said it. Perhaps the cold was causing him to say strange things as well as hear them.
"Don't ask questions, Aunt Petunia," he said, all too quietly. Then he bolted for his cupboard door, leaving her behind with a surprised and furious look.
"WHAT DID YOU SAY TO ME, YOUNG MAN?"
Her shouts were unanswered as Harry darted behind the door, locking it tight and breathing heavily (because as we know, his nose wasn't that great at the moment). He just had enough time to hide the stew under his bed before Petunia was back, and beating on his door as if it were a leg of lamb.
"You come out from there, you hear? I've had enough of your cheek to make two, and they'll be over my knee if you don't behave! Potter! Potter! BOY!"
Harry sat there, rocking back and forth, his hands over his ears. A tiny smile was hidden on his face, but he could only sit there. As if he had landed himself in an hour of glory but stepping out would mean certain death.
I could always let the flu eat me alive, he wondered.
He found he had pressed his sweater against his chest, and he snuggled his warm cheek into it, seeking comfort. The smell lifted him away again, and he stroked it as if it were the dearest thing to him.
The dearest...
"I'm not coming out, Aunt Petunia!" he cried, his voice dry and slowly breaking into a million pieces. He sniffed, feeling cornered, as if he were in hiding from some deadly animal.
"Oh, yes you will! Your uncle will soon be home and he'll pull this door off its hinges if you're still sitting there!" Petunia was going crazy. The last thing she wanted was for Harry to be huddled inside one room, without food, without water and without completing his chores. They would have to do things for themselves – oh, unspeakable!
"Let him then! I'm telling you, I'm not coming out!" Harry didn't know what was coming over him. He would never even dream of speaking back so boldly like this. Perhaps this cold was the last straw. He found he wasn't even thinking about what he was saying before he said it.
Petunia stood up straight, a strange sound escaping out of her mouth, which was pursed between her teeth.
"Y-you'll have to come out," she spluttered, "Eventually. Your – your medicine, aha! You can't stay in there and not take your medicine!"
Harry's eyes darted towards the crack of his bed, and slowly he pulled out the dish that Betsy had given him. The smell reached his nose, and he lavished in it. Thinking of that horrible green slime Uncle Vernon made him devour made this seem all the more pleasant.
He sniffed, and a grin came to his lips.
"I think I'll manage thanks."
"Oough!" bellowed Petunia, and disappeared.
:--:
The stew was downed by teatime, and Harry had to admit it made him feel a little better. At least it left him with a warm feeling in his belly afterwards.
He listened. The house had gone quiet. Dudley had retired to his room and Vernon and Petunia were nowhere to be found. Harry thought they were only discussing his 'behaviour' and 'what should be done about it', or reading Dudders a bedtime story.
He sat up, wondering what the time was.
Well that was easy, he had a watch.
Or he did.
Harry's hands flew to his head at the sight of his bare wrist. His watch! The one thing he was given from his old house after his parents had died in that car crash, his father's watch, was missing! He had promised to take good care of it – after all, it was all he had from them.
Think, think, Harry thought, trying not to panic. He had it with him at the weekend; he remembered always looking at it on the Friday afternoon before coming home.
Then, it must be...
...in the garden. When he was painting the shed. In the grass somewhere!
Harry hoped that it wouldn't be damaged because of the rain. Maybe he had enough time to rush outside and find it before Petunia came down for her lemon tea. He really couldn't stand thinking about leaving it another night.
He quietly unbolted the door, peering out into the hallway. No one.
Harry held his breath, finding it noisier now that his nose was dysfunctional. He shut the cupboard up softly, and tried to press as little weight as he could with each foot to the front door.
One small turn and it opened, without making a peep. Yes! The night air greeted him, a cold, windy night it was, and made him shiver. He just wanted to find the watch, and then get back as quickly as he could before anyone noticed he was gone.
The garden seemed larger to him in the dark, and certainly harder to find objects in. After at least ten minutes of looking, Harry began to worry. What if his cupboard had been pried open and had been found empty? He was sure to get into trouble.
"Come on," he muttered to himself. "Where is it?"
"I believe this is what you're looking for, sir?"
Harry stood up, and turned around. There stood a man, dressed in dark robes (well, they seemed dark to Harry because of the hidden moon), and a strange silhouette. Like he has a horn growing out of his head, he thought. The face was unrecognisable in the shadows, so it could barely be seen. Harry gulped.
"Excuse me?"
"Your watch. I found it lying here," was the reply.
"Oh." Harry moved closer, reaching in the shadows to receive it, but only seemed to grab air. He moved a few steps nearer, but still nothing. "Sorry," he said, in his young stuffy voice, "I can't see - "
The man seemed to understand. "Here, let me guide you." There was a kindness in his voice as he reached out and took the boy's arm, pulling him into his distance.
Harry gasped, almost jerked off his feet, but felt the metal watch fall into his hand. He could hear it still ticking in the quiet. Good then, it wasn't broken after all. He shivered again, and found his voice.
"T-thank you - "
"No, no, thank you," the man replied, bowing graciously. "It is truly an honour to finally meet you, to even be speaking with you is a principle that only royalty deserves. Mr. Potter, may I ask you how - "
Harry staggered backwards. "You know me?"
The man chuckled nervously. "But of course! You reverence me by merely standing here – and to think, I even touched your hand!" He went off into a fit of delighted giggles, which seemed to disturb Harry a little.
"Well...you're welcome," was all he could say.
"Am I?" the man asked, staring devotedly up from his knees. "Am I really?"
"Uh…yes."
"You're nine soon, aren't you? Growing up fast now..."
Harry felt rather confused. How did he know all of this about him? This man was a stranger he knew nothing of. Yet he still knew his age, his name...it was indeed frightening, especially for a young boy. He backed off, not wanting to be rude.
"I'm sorry," he said slowly. "I have to get going now."
The man stood up, sounding as if he had hit the highest jackpot in the world. "Certainly, I keep remembering you're a boy who needs his rest. Bet you're top of the class everyday, working hard, pulling your weight, learning new spel - "
"Thank you," Harry said again. "Thank you for finding my watch."
The man only bowed, and then to Harry's surprise, his horn fell right off his head!
"Oh, my hat," he complained. "This wretched thing doesn't stay on when I want it to..." It sounded to Harry that he was a little embarrassed, and he felt sorry for him.
"Here," he said, picking it up for him.
The man gushed, patting Harry delicately on the head. "You really are such a polite young man," he laughed. "Why, you have probably never seen somebody like me before in your life, have you? An old fool like myself?"
"Actually, no I haven't," Harry admitted. "I thought your hat was a horn growing out of your head, like a rhino."
"Or a unicorn," the man winked.
Harry nodded slowly in agreement, finding him very strange but not wanting to say so. He was peculiar, but kind-hearted. And it felt nice to hear something friendly once in a while.
Then, enlightened at his luck, the man plopped the hat upon Harry's own head.
"Fits like a glove," he whispered.
And, just as mysteriously as he came, he vanished. Disappeared on the night air.
Harry stood alone on the grass, clutching the watch in his hand.
He shivered.
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: To be continued :
(A/N: I promise that I'll have the next chapter done within a year! Lol. No, really, bash me all you want, I know I deserve it. : hides from the rotten fruit :)
