Chapter 15
And Another
(One of my betas suggested a tissue warning, so be warned 😉)
Harry flung open the door, and Ginny's voice echoed down the silent and empty stairway. Dodging yet another potion phial, he stumbled onto the landing, heart in his throat and fear clutching at his insides like the Inferi had on a black lake many moons ago.
He shut Ginny's door and heard yet another phial smash against it. The sound of the Charms keeping her bedroom sterile were humming in his ears beneath Ginny's rants. She was swearing like a troll on the other side of the door. His legs gave out and he slid down the wall onto the floor, staring in horror at her closed door. His mind refused to process it all, and he only dimly heard other doors opening and stampeding footsteps on the stairs.
Ron reached him first, followed closely by a wild-haired Hermione, both of them looking disheveled in their dressing gowns.
"What in the bloody hell is going on?" Ron demanded, his head swiveling between Harry on the floor, and Ginny's closed door. She'd finally stopped shouting.
Hermione knelt down and removed Harry's Bubble-Head Charm. "What happened, Harry? Were you in there?" she asked. "What was all that noise?"
George came thundering down the stairs, his bedroom being furthest from the others. "What's going on?"
"That's what we're trying to work out," Ron said, "but Harry's not cooperating. It looks to me like he went inside her room and upset her."
The sound of Ginny crying behind the door only increased the anxiety on the landing. "I'm going to Floo the Healer," Hermione said, standing up and running back down the stairs.
"What happened, Harry? What did you say to our sister?" George asked, scowling. "Why is she crying?"
"Easy, George," Ron said, looking uncomfortable.
"She's crying, and she doesn't do that very easily," George said through gritted teeth.
Harry opened his mouth, but he couldn't get the words to form. How was he supposed to say that the person he loved most in the world mistook him for the evil madman who'd abused her? Harry had often recognized a similarity between himself and Riddle, and he'd been plagued with doubts and fears about the Horcrux – the bit of soul – that he'd harbored inside his own head for years. Ginny had been the one to help him see they were still separate, that he wasn't some sort of tainted freak because of it. Had she meant it? Was it all a ruse, and now her true fears were leaking out?
Why now? Was it the illness giving her hallucinations, or was the hallucination seeing through something hidden inside her mind? Harry's chest constricted, finding it difficult to draw breath. Ron and George somehow appeared menacing, hulking over him, their faces rigid and angry. He couldn't breathe.
"I know who you are. I know what you are."
Her angry words rang in his ears, and bile rose in his throat. She'd looked so terrified yet still enraged, and he couldn't help her. There was no way to help her because it was him whom she feared, and it was this illness eating at her insides and bringing up all her past trauma.
He didn't know how to help her, and his limited knowledge of Healing spells seemed woefully inadequate. He was useless to her. He'd told her that he'd remember for both of them, but if she was too afraid of him to even see him, how was he going to do that for her?
Before he was aware of what was happening, or how she'd come to be there, one of the Healers who worked with Vivian stood in front of his face. She forced his head back and poured a foul-tasting potion down his throat. As steam issued from his ears, his head began to clear slightly, and his panic abated. He was seated on the edge of his own bed, Hermione sitting next to him, and the two Weasley brothers hovered behind the Healer, looking mutinous. He had no recollection at all of how he'd ended up there.
"Wha…" he mumbled, tripping over his own tongue. The Healer's eyes were bulging beneath her Bubble-Head Charm.
"What happened to Ginny?" George demanded.
"What were you doing in her room?" Ron asked at the same time.
Harry blinked dazedly, and the Healer spun to face Ron and George, arms akimbo and a thunderous expression on her face. "I warned the both of you to hold your tongues until I get him sorted. If you can't follow simple instructions, I want you both to leave. Now!"
Hermione began rubbing Harry's back, looking exasperated. He didn't pull away but leaned into her slightly, trying to organize his thoughts.
"We're not going anywhere until we find out what happened tonight," Ron retorted angrily.
"That's something we'd all like to know, but your repeated outbursts only set us back. Control yourselves, or get the hell out so I can concentrate," the Healer snapped, looking fierce. She was a matronly woman with short grey hair and a pear-shaped body. She didn't appear the least bit intimidated by Ron's and George's threatening stances.
Ron looked as if was about to argue again when Hermione barked, "Oh, shut it, Ron, and listen for a bit."
Ron looked affronted, but he scowled and folded his arms across his chest. George remained frowning, but he held his tongue, as well.
The potion Harry had been given had cleared the fog in his head, and he could breathe easier. He knew the anger in his friends' faces wasn't really directed at him, but came from the concern they all felt for Ginny. It didn't make it any easier, however.
"Shouldn't you be with Ginny?" he asked, wondering why she was wasting time on him. He pulled away from Hermione, glancing nervously at the door.
"My colleague is tending to her as we speak, Mr. Potter. Now, do you mind telling us what happened here this evening?"
"I–" Harry had to clear his throat. "I went in to see Ginny, but she was asleep," he said, conjuring the scene in his mind's eye.
"Despite the fact she's under quarantine?" the Healer asked, unimpressed.
"Oh, we're all under quarantine, and he's been doing that since it began," Hermione said. "What was different tonight?"
Harry looked at her, raising his eyebrows. He'd known she suspected, but she'd never confirmed it.
"I know you, Harry, and I knew you wouldn't be able to follow those rules. I also know," she said, turning her head to glare at both the Weasley brothers, "that Ginny wouldn't have followed them, either. She's kept it secret as much as he has."
Ron and George's eyes goggled at her, but they didn't argue. Harry wasn't certain if that was because they were mounting their arguments to Hermione, or because the Healer had threatened to throw them out if they spoke. It was the Healer he needed to make understand now.
"Look, I took all the same precautions you lot take when you go in with her," he said, ignoring the others and speaking directly to her. "My scans have all come back negative."
"I'm aware of that," the Healer said grudgingly. "What happened when she awoke, because she obviously did?"
Harry nodded. "She was having a nightmare. I tried to soothe her back to sleep, but when that didn't work, I tried to wake her," he said, his throat going dry.
"Yes, we've had multiple complaints of disturbing dreams and night terrors being part of this, but that hasn't been widely reported as of yet," the Healer said, nodding.
"Well, it would've been nice to have some warning," Harry snapped.
"Since you weren't supposed to be in there in the first place, there really wasn't any reason to tell, was there?" the Healer snapped back.
Harry glowered, but he couldn't hold back the way his body shuddered, recalling Ginny's reaction to him.
"What is it, Harry?" Hermione asked gently.
"She was dreaming about Riddle. About Voldemort. When she realized I was in the room with her, she thought I was him, and she started screaming," he said, wincing. "I couldn't reach her, so I left. I left her there."
His voice cracked, and he couldn't go on.
"Oh, Harry," Hermione said, once again putting her hand on his back, but this time he pulled away, standing up and beginning to pace.
"She thought you were him?" Ron asked, looking revolted.
"You're all aware that hallucinations are part of this wretched illness. While I'm sure that was alarming, know that it's the illness talking, Mr. Potter," the Healer said, but Harry couldn't look at her. "I'm going to let my colleague know, and check on Miss Weasley. I'm leaving another phial of Pepper-up Potion there if the shock returns, and a phial of Dreamless Sleep if necessary."
She directed the last bit to Hermione before leaving them in Harry's room while she crossed the landing and entered Ginny's.
The room remained silent, all of them looking at each other warily. Harry continued pacing.
"Sit down, Harry. You're still awfully pale," Hermione said at last, patting the spot next to her.
"I'm fine," he said automatically.
"Of course, you are. Sit down, anyway," Ron said, his ears very red.
Harry didn't want to sit down, though. He felt agitated and besieged. He wanted to know what was happening to Ginny. What were they doing to calm her down? He needed to know how to handle it better if it happened again. Merlin, he hoped it never happened again. His mind was plagued with the image of the way she'd looked at him. He never wanted her to look at him like that again… as if he were corrupted… contaminated.
As if Voldemort was still living inside him as some foul parasitic growth, tainting everything in his life that was good.
"What d'you think they're doing to her?" George asked, voicing Harry's thoughts.
"They've probably given her a Calming Draught, and it's put her to sleep. I can't hear her anymore," Hermione answered automatically. The need to answer a question was too ingrained in her to resist.
"Will she remember it tomorrow?" Harry asked. He knew the answer. He'd read as much about it as Hermione had, and all the literature said she'd most likely awaken with no memory that it had ever happened, but he was powerless to stop the childish need for reassurance.
"Most likely not, but that doesn't mean she won't have the same hallucination again," Hermione said, apparently unable to stop herself.
"She really thought you were Voldemort?" George asked, looking unsettled. "I hate that this bloody thing has brought her back there. She's worked so hard to not let it define her."
"It doesn't," Harry said fiercely. "Obviously, it was her most traumatic time, so the disease that's preying upon her mind is using it against her."
"That must've been so scary, Harry. You know she doesn't see you as anything like him," Hermione said, biting her lip.
"'Course not, but even Harry has noticed comparisons between him and Riddle when they were at Hogwarts," Ron said, shrugging.
"I'm not a freak," Harry snapped loudly.
"I know that," Ron said, looking startled. He and Hermione shared an uneasy glance. "I never said you were, mate. I just meant that if she'd been dreaming, she'd probably been confused."
Harry wondered if Ron was aware of that particular nickname in his varied collection. He was suddenly overwhelmed with embarrassment at his outburst. He looked away from them, rubbing his forehead and aware they were all silently communicating behind his back.
"Let's go make some hot chocolate. It always helps, and none of us are falling back to sleep any time soon, eh?" Ron suggested, leading the way.
Harry followed, simply for something to do, but what he really wanted was for the other Healer to come out of Ginny's room and tell them all how she was doing. He reckoned Vivian would arrive in the morning to express her displeasure with his rule-breaking. He really didn't care. Even if she didn't remember when he visited, she always appeared happy that he did. Well, tonight being the exception, obviously.
He needed to be able to do something… anything for her.
Ron prepared the hot chocolate while Hermione pulled out several mugs. Harry and George sat at the island. George looked as lost in his own thoughts as Harry felt in his own. A crash caused them both to startle and whip around, Harry with his wand drawn.
Ron had dropped one of the mugs Hermione had handed him, and it had shattered on the floor. "Oops," he said, his ears red. "It slipped."
Hermione waved her wand, and the mug repaired itself. As Ron filled the mugs, he somehow managed to drop another one, this time spilling its contents all over the counter.
"Honestly, Ron," Hermione said, pushing him toward the island and out of her way. "Let me do it."
She placed all four mugs on a tray and Levitated it over to the them. She poured a bit of chocolate from each of the filled mugs into the empty one, then used her wand to fill them all up to the top.
"There, nothing to fuss about," she said, handing out the mugs.
Harry sipped his gratefully, enjoying the burn as it slid down his throat. He remembered how Remus had always recommended chocolate after any sort of an upset He hadn't quite realized it at the time, and just thought it was the remedy for Dementors. He supposed there was a lot about his dad's mates that he hadn't properly appreciated. And now it was too late.
"How long do you think they'll be up there?" he asked.
"It can't be much longer," George said. "Her room had long gone quiet even before we came down."
"I'm certain they're just being thorough," Hermione said. "She was very upset, so it might take longer for the draught to put her to sleep."
Harry really couldn't blame her. He'd already given up the idea of sleep this night. He didn't want to see what he knew he would as soon as he shut his eyes.
Ron took this moment to drop his spoon, and it clattered loudly on the countertop. The sound seemed to echo around the silent kitchen.
"What's gotten into you, tonight? You're as clumsy as a Blast-Ended Skrewt let loose in a tea shop," George said, exasperated.
Harry's breath caught, and he met Hermione's wide eyes across the island, knowing they shared the same thought.
Difficulty with coordination and motor functions.
It was on the list of symptoms they were supposed to be watching for. Was this just Ron's nerves at being startled out of bed so alarmingly, or was there something else? Had he been so focused on the fact Ginny was unwell, that he'd missed the signs in Ron, who was supposed to be his best mate?
"You all right, Ron?" he asked, hearing the shakiness in his own voice but hoping the others wouldn't notice.
Hermione sat frozen on her stool, her cocoa mug still hovering in front of her lips. Her hand was also shaking.
"Fine," Ron said, grumbling. "It's not pleasant to be woken from a very satisfying dream involving Cannons tickets in the top box at the Quidditch final."
"Well, yeah, because the only way that's going to happen is in a dream, and now you've missed that, too," George said, grinning. "I could work on a patented Daydream Charm, but I'd lose gold as you're the only one who'd ever buy the Chudley Cannons version."
"Shag off," Ron said. "You'll see. This is going to be their year."
"Ron, I think you've told me that every year since I joined the wizarding world," Harry said, smiling slightly despite his worry.
"And it hasn't yet happened in Ron's lifetime; I wouldn't hold your breath," George said, grinning.
"Ron, do you remember when you took me to that Cannons match? You bought me something, what was it?" Hermione asked, finally placing her mug back on the counter.
Ron looked at her blankly. "Er… a hat, wasn't it? Because it was so sunny that day, and I liked seeing you wearing their logo."
Hermione smiled tremulously. "Yes, that's right. And what else have you given me of theirs?"
"That's a silly question, Hermione. Ron usually gives us all Cannons paraphernalia. I bet we could all be fully outfitted in it by now," George said.
Harry knew what Hermione was doing and thought she was doing a rather poor job at subtlety, but neither Ron nor George appeared to notice. He felt rather odd. He'd been agonizing for days over Ginny, to the point he'd felt stuck and unable to act, but now… watching Hermione fret, and realizing that she could possibly be entering the same stage he was in a few days ago, all he wanted to do was help her. The worry for Ginny was still there, but he realized he couldn't fall apart.
He could still help the others.
While Ron and George continued to argue about the Cannons, Harry quietly nudged her hot chocolate back into her hands. "It bears watching, but don't panic yet. It is the middle of the night," he murmured.
Hermione met his eyes, hers wide and alarmed. She nodded faintly, and lifted the mug to her lips. She smiled tremulously and took a sip.
They were interrupted by the sharp clicking of heels descending the steps into the kitchen. Harry turned, expecting to see the Healers, but was surprised to find Vivian, wearing her protective charms, and her mouth set in a grim line.
Uh-oh. She was more hacked off than he'd expected. He quickly raised his own mug of cocoa, allowing one of the others to speak first.
"Vivian, how is she?" George asked. "Have you seen her? What did the Healers say?"
"Does this mean she's worse? What happens after the hallucination stage?" Ron asked.
Vivian took a deep breath, pursing her lips. "I've just left her. She's sleeping comfortably, and the Healers have left for the night."
"They left her?" Harry asked, standing.
"Sit down, Mr. Potter. It's nigh on two in the morning, and I thought they should get some rest. No one else is to enter that room this evening. As I said, Miss Weasley is resting comfortably, and the potions won't allow her to awaken, so there is no need to disturb her. Not that you've been following my instructions, anyway."
Harry sat, feeling somewhat abashed, but not much. He'd do it the same way again. Vivian seemed to notice because she studied him intently, apparently unimpressed. "While I neither approve nor recommend it, I am pleased to see you've been taking precautions. Was this the first time she's experienced a hallucination in your company?"
"Yes!" Harry said, appalled. "I would've mentioned it if anything like that happened before."
"I'd hope so," Vivian replied coolly.
"Look, it's not as if I was sneaking in for a shag or anything. I just wanted her to know she wasn't alone," he said, feeling his face grow warm.
"And you couldn't have simply used those ears that are lying all around?" she asked, raising one perfectly-shaped eyebrow. "I've heard very positive feedback about them."
"No, I couldn't," Harry said defiantly.
"Look, has he done something worse to Ginny by being in there?" Ron demanded, frowning at Harry.
Vivian's eyebrows raised. "To Miss Weasley? No, of course not, but he's put himself in considerable danger."
Ron rolled his eyes. "Have you met Harry? That comes about as naturally as taking a piss in the morning."
"Ron!" Hermione scolded whilst George snorted.
"Look, I know it's late, but I do have some rather sobering news to share," Vivian said, shutting them all up.
"What is it?" Hermione asked.
"While there have been no new positives from the initial level two group, there have now been four cases amongst the level threes," she replied somberly.
"What the ruddy hell does that mean?" Ron bellowed.
"It means," Hermione said, her eyes watery, "that it's spread to those of us living in confinement with the Harpies."
"Do you have the diagnostic scans that were done on us yesterday back yet?" Harry asked, staring at Vivian intently.
She frowned, tilting her head. Harry nodded subtlety towards Ron. Vivian's lips pursed again, her gaze shifting in Ron's direction. "No, not yet, but I expect them to be done by morning."
"Have your potioneers had any luck with the Mandragora?" Hermione asked suddenly. Harry had a vague recollection of Vivian mentioning this in the past, but he couldn't recall exactly.
"Minimal, but I still think it's promising. I'm hoping to adapt it into something that can immunize those already exposed. We're also trying to work out a way of producing it en masse for the Muggles if it proves effective. We need to do this without revealing the magical element, so it's complicated," Vivian said.
"Wait… so it could help Ginny?" Harry asked, his heartbeat increasing.
Vivian shook her head, however. "Not currently, but perhaps with an adaptation to the draught."
"Draught? What draught? What's a Mandragora? I know I've heard that before," Harry said, growing impatient with their half answers. Could this help or not?
Hermione let out an exasperated puff of air. "Harry! Mandragora… as in Mandrakes, remember?"
Harry stared blankly for a moment. "From second year?" he asked, trying to bully his brain into following them. "When you were Petrified? But… no one is Petrified."
"Honestly! Mandrake, or Mandragora, is a powerful restorative used to return people who have been transfigured or cursed to their original state. It's not just for those who've been Petrified, it's for those who've been altered," Hermione said, impatient that he didn't memorize textbooks the way she did.
"Miss Granger is correct," Vivian said. "Although this wasn't inflicted with a curse, there does appear to be an element of Dark magic in the potion. We're working diligently to find the proper poisons used in the hope we can manipulate a Mandrake draught to restore victims, thus curing them."
"I have a decent greenhouse where I grow potion ingredients. Let me know if I can supply you with more Mandrake roots, or anything else you might need," George said.
"Thank you, but St. Mungo's and the Ministry have that covered. What I would like to talk to you about is ordering a supply of those Ears you've been using. I think it could help a lot of the families who have loved ones in quarantine. The Ministry is willing to cover the expense."
George looked startled. "Great. Yeah, I can do that… er, we can do that, right?" he asked, looking around the table.
"Yeah, we'll help," Ron said, slapping George on the back.
"Very good. I'll have a contract drawn up. Now, I'm going to try and get a few hours' sleep before I need to be back at the Ministry. I suggest you all do the same. Mr. Potter, you are to sleep in your own room. Do I make myself clear? The potions given to Miss Weasley will keep her asleep, and she needs the rest. Don't interfere with that."
"Fine," Harry muttered sullenly. He'd been sleeping in his own room the entire time, anyway, but he wouldn't do anything to risk her health.
"I'll let you all know as soon as the results from yesterday's diagnostic scans are available," she said, before nodding and sweeping from the room.
The others all followed her out, heading back to their own bedrooms, but Harry knew the pit in his stomach would keep him awake until dawn.
/* /* /* /*
Harry had to give Andromeda credit, she made an imposing figure, even just as a head in the flames of his kitchen fire. He was kneeling on the floor in front of it, a cup of coffee in his hands, and his eyes itchy from lack of sleep. He'd stayed at the kitchen island all night, and even now, with lunchtime approaching, the rest of the house remained silent. The others were having a lie-in, and the only visitor had been the morning medi-witch, who was upstairs with Ginny.
Harry felt like a coward, because he hadn't sneaked into Ginny's room that morning. He'd told himself that he didn't want to wake her. She'd had a rough night, as well, and he wasn't certain how long it would take for the potions they'd given her to wear off, but that was only an excuse. He was afraid to find out if she'd still look at him as if he was Tom Riddle.
He was in no hurry to see that again.
"I know who you are. I know what you are."
On top of that was his growing concern for Ron. He'd expected Vivian to arrive at her usual time, but ten o'clock came and went with no word. He hoped that was a good sign, but it could also be that Vivian was having a lie-in. Even the irascible Untouchable had to sleep sometime.
Perhaps he was overreacting. Ron being a bit clumsy could easily be explained away by the fact it had been two in the morning, and he'd been startled out of a sound sleep. Still, the gnawing worry wouldn't allow Harry's mind to rest. Was this damned illness going take all the Weasleys one by one? Could George be next? How could he ever face Mr. and Mrs. Weasley and tell them all three of their children were ill, and he, Harry, was yet again standing unscathed?
"Harry, I'm concerned that you're not sleeping. You don't look well," Andromeda said for the third time.
"I'm fine, 'Dromeda, just tired," he replied. It had taken him a long time to become comfortable enough with the woman to use her first name, never mind such a familiar nickname, but after teaming up to raise Teddy and all that entailed, it had been impossible not to bond.
They'd both loved and lost some of the same people.
"You're not fine, don't be ridiculous," Andromeda scoffed. "And you look a right mess, if I'm being perfectly blunt."
Harry grinned half-heartedly. "So glad I have you to keep me in line," he said, rolling his eyes.
"Well, since Ginny is under the weather, I thought someone ought to until she's able to resume her role of bullying you into self-care," Andromeda said firmly. "Have you eaten breakfast?"
"Yeah," Harry lied. "I'm about to start making lunch for everyone."
"Good. Be certain you eat some of it."
"Have you and Molly Weasley been sharing notes?" Harry asked, exasperated. "You're beginning to sound an awful lot alike."
"You could do worse for maternal figures trying to ensure your health and well-being, young man," Andromeda said sternly, and Harry's heart lightened just a bit hearing the warmth beneath the words.
"I do know that. Listen, if the news comes back about Ron… if it isn't good… well, can you look after the Weasleys? I know they'll be devastated," Harry asked, his throat aching.
"Of course, I will, dear. You needn't even ask. I love them, too," Andromeda said kindly before the briskness returned. "Now, you're all young and strong, so I've no doubt you'll all pull through. The Dragonpox epidemic took mostly older folks… it seems to be the way of these things. Keep your chins up, and look after one another."
"We're trying," Harry said.
"I know that. I'm always here if you need to talk to someone outside the walls of that house, Harry. Remember that," she said, smiling. "Now, your godson has been quiet much too long, so I need to go and check he hasn't tied Kreacher up in the bed linens again."
Harry grinned. "Give him a hug from me," he said, missing Teddy fiercely. "Tell him I can hardly wait to play trains with him again soon."
"Oh, must I tell him that?" Andromeda asked, groaning. "He'll be after me night and day wanting to know when."
"Can't say as I blame him on that. I'd like to know when, too," Harry said, shoulders slumping.
After Andromeda bid him farewell and the Floo connection faded, Harry decided he really should make some brunch. The others would probably be hungry once they finally came down. Although he tended to lose his appetite under duress, he'd yet to find the condition that impeded the Weasleys' appetites.
It wasn't long after he'd started his fry-up that George showed his face in the kitchen. Stubbled-chinned and bleary-eyed, he was cheerful, nonetheless. "Morning, Harry," he said, pulling a cup of coffee nearer.
"Afternoon, George," Harry replied, smirking as he placed a plate in front of him. "Did you get any sleep?"
"Off and on. I didn't really doze off until sometime early this morning," George replied, stretching. He took a closer look at Harry. "You look like hell. Didn't you sleep at all?"
Harry shook his head, "You know, it's a wonder I don't have a complex with the number of people who keep telling me how dreadful I look. It's like growing up with the Dursleys."
George put his fork back on the countertop. "You know, I've spent the better part of my life devoted to humor – both the good sort and the inappropriate – so I can tell you with authority that that's not funny, mate."
Harry grinned. "My bad. Being cooped up in here must be getting to me," he said, picking up a piece of toast and munching on it.
"Ron or Hermione up yet?" George asked, resuming his brunch.
"I haven't seen them, so if they are, I don't want to know what they're doing," Harry replied, grimacing.
"How about Ginny?" George asked, watching Harry closely.
Harry put his piece of toast back on his plate, refusing to meet George's eyes. He knew he was being cowardly, but he didn't want George to call him out on it. "Haven't seen her. The medi-witch is up there now," he said in a low voice.
George nodded, and Harry could feel his eyes on him, but he still didn't look up. "You need to keep a watch on her," he finally said, resuming eating.
Harry couldn't stop himself from looking up at that. "What?"
"You're the only one she'll let take care of her. She's too busy proving to the rest of us that she doesn't need us looking after her. No idea how our delicate little flower grew up to be so stubborn," George said, scratching his chin.
Harry snorted. "She'd have bogeys coming out of all your orifices right about now if she heard you calling her a 'delicate flower,' you know."
"I know. That's why I say it when she isn't here," George replied smugly. "Listen… I didn't like hearing her crying last night, but… well, sometimes even mild-mannered me lets the Weasley temper get the better of him."
"Mild-mannered, eh? Must've missed that day," Harry said, his shoulders relaxing.
The two resumed their meal, but it was mere moments before Vivian joined them in the kitchen, looking more refreshed than either of them. "Good morning."
The small bit of food Harry had managed turned to ash in his stomach, and he watched the witch warily. "What's going on?" he asked.
"Where are Ronald and Hermione?" she countered.
"They aren't up yet," Harry replied. "You can tell us what you've learned, and I'll relay the message."
"No, I think this will be better done with everyone. Why don't we adjourn to the sitting room? Send them a Patronus to join us, please," she said, turning on her heel and marching back out without waiting for a response.
"Bossy one, isn't she?" George asked, wolfing down the last few bites on his plate.
Harry sent a Patronus and quickly cast warming and preservation charms on the food before following George upstairs. He arrived in the sitting room just as a rumpled Ron and Hermione came down the stairs. Ron looked tired and surly, but he rarely did well without enough sleep.
"Sorry to wake you two on this fine, sunny afternoon," George said, grinning. "Or… did we interrupt something other than sleep, you sly dogs, you?"
Ron rolled his eyes, but Hermione didn't even respond, her eyes fixed only on Vivian. "Has something new happened?" she asked.
Vivian held a Ministry folder, and she placed it on her lap, folding her hands over it. "I have a question, actually. Mr. Weasley… Ronald," she said, when both Weasley brothers looked up. "Your Ministry file indicates you've already had Spattergroit. Is this correct?"
"What?" Ron asked, looking startled and rather annoyed. "No, I've never had Spattergroit. What are you on about?"
"It was during the war," Hermione said, her voice shrill, and Ron goggled at her. "We had to hide the fact that Ron was on the run with us to protect his family. So, we faked a case of Spattergroit to keep him out of school, but the Death Eaters – and the Ministry, at the time – didn't realize he was missing."
"Oh, yeah… right," Ron said, ruffling his already mussed-up hair. "That's right. The ghoul impersonated me."
Harry found the fact that Vivian didn't even question that absurd statement was ominous. His gut twisted.
"I see," the Unspeakable said, marking something in her file. She pressed her lips together. "Well, that changes things, I'm afraid."
"What are you talking about?" George asked warily, obviously cottoning on to what Harry and Hermione had already feared.
"Ronald, your diagnostic scan came back with a slightly elevated risk of infection. I'd hoped it was merely showing antibodies from your previous exposure, but since that's not the case, I'm afraid it's signaling the beginning. I'm going to have the medi-witch arrange another bed in with Miss Weasley, and a Healer will be by this afternoon to check you over. I'm sorry," Vivian said to the stunned gathering.
Hermione gasped and hid her face in her hands.
"Wait… what? What are you saying?" Ron asked, his ears growing alarmingly red as the volume of his voice increased. He jumped to his feet, looking ready to bolt.
Harry surreptitiously moved over to the open doorway, blocking his escape should he try to run for it. George looked too stunned to move.
"I'm saying that you've been infected, Ronald. We need to isolate you from the others, so if you'd come upstairs with me," Vivian said, businesslike. She stood up and extended her arm toward the door.
"Your scan is wrong," Ron said stubbornly. "I feel fine, and I haven't had breakfast."
Despite the severity of the situation, Harry almost wanted to laugh. Almost. Leave it to Ron to be worrying about food at a time like this. "I'll bring a tray up to you, mate," he said, his voice strained.
Ron's head swiveled toward him, looking desperate. "Harry! Don't tell me you believe this dung. I feel fine. There's nothing wrong with me. I'd know it if there was."
"That's not necessarily the case, though, Ron," Harry said, wincing.
"Ron… you have showed some of the signs," Hermione said, her eyes leaking. "You've been having mood swings, and your motor coordination has been off."
"What are you talking about?" Ron asked, horrorstruck.
Hermione withered under his angry and bewildered gaze, and Harry didn't want her to have to be the one to break this news.
"Ron, she's right. We both noticed it yesterday," he said, quietly.
Ron looked at him as if he'd committed base treachery. "Oh? You noticed it, eh, Potter? And you didn't think to mention it at the time. Just gathering your little facts and keeping things close and hidden until you worked out the big picture? I suppose Dumbledore taught you well," he snarled.
Harry had to work hard to suppress his flinch.
"Ron! That's not fair! We love you, and we're concerned about you, is all," Hermione cried.
Ron turned on her. "Concerned, are you? Or are you just concerned I'll pass it onto you?" he snarled.
"Ron, if you were right in the head, you'd be the one concerned about that," George said, looking miserable.
"Oh, so you're calling me mental now?" Ron asked, his whole face bright red.
"Ronald, that's quite enough. We need to get you upstairs. I daresay your sister will be happy for the company," Vivian said reprovingly. She reached out and grasped Ron's arm by his elbow. Harry thought she was very brave in doing so considering how angry Ron looked.
"I'm not going anywhere with you," Ron snarled, pulling his arm away and storming toward the door.
Harry folded his arms, blocking the exit, his wand held loosely in his hand. He didn't want to use it if he didn't have to. He knew the illness was messing with Ron's mind, but he wasn't certain they could break through to the real Ron underneath.
"Get out of my way," Ron said in a low, deadly voice.
Harry shook his head. "No. Come on, Ron, I know you don't really want to hurt any of us."
"Get out of my way, or I'll make you," he said, glaring.
Some of Ron's teenage gangly frame had filled out into muscle, and Harry was struck by what an imposing figure his best mate now made when enraged.
"Ron, please. Please don't do this. I love you, and I'll figure something out," Hermione pleaded, tears running down her cheeks in rivulets. She looked thoroughly miserable.
In the instant Harry's attention was diverted, Ron attacked, shoving Harry hard and knocking him backwards several feet. He impacted with the floor jarringly, landing sprawled outside the sitting room, and his head thudded painfully into the bottom of the stairway's banister.
"Stupefy!" Vivian shouted.
Ron's angry shout of rage was cut off as he slumped unconscious to the floor as if he were boneless.
"Ron!" Hermione said, hurrying towards him. "Why did you Stun him? Petrifying him would've done it, and he wouldn't have any side effects?"
"While that is true, he also wouldn't have any reason to calm down, and would've been doubly enraged once I had him up in the infirmary. I'd prefer if there won't be any need to use restraints once he's up there. He might have a headache, but the medi-witch can tend to him, and hopefully he'll be more open to listening once we revive him," Vivian said briskly, levitating Ron and urging his prone body forward with her wand.
Harry dazedly pulled himself to a seated position, wincing as he felt the lump forming on the back of his head. He sat, rubbing the spot, and watching Hermione attempt to follow Vivian up the stairs.
Vivian didn't turn, but she seemed to know what Hermione was doing. "It's best if you allow us to get him settled, Miss Granger. You can speak with him on those wonderful Ears once I'm finished."
Hermione stopped, frozen on the stairs, watching their ascending figures. She seemed to startle from her trance, and she knelt beside Harry, examining the lump on his head.
"Oh, Harry. I'm sorry. He didn't mean that, you know he didn't," she said tearfully, helping him to his feet.
"I know, but overreacting does come naturally," he said shortly. He was aware Ron was ill, but his head was throbbing painfully.
Hermione led him back into the sitting room where he sank gratefully onto the sofa, resting his aching head. George hadn't moved. He still sat in one of the wing-backed chairs, looking frozen.
"All right, George?" Harry asked, causing Hermione to turn around and look at the other Weasley brother, as well.
George shrugged. "Two Weasleys down," he said, gruffly. "Did the reports say anything about this illness being deadlier to gingers?"
"No one's going to die," Hermione shrieked.
Harry could feel her trembling beside him, and he automatically wrapped his arm round her shoulder. She leaned into him, sniffling.
George still hadn't moved. His unnatural calm concerned Harry more than Hermione's tearful hysterics, which was saying something since Harry had never become comfortable around crying females.
"He's going to be all right, George. They both are," Harry said firmly, needing to believe it.
"I can't lose another sibling," George whispered. "I never thought about losing Fred, but now… now it's all I can think about with Ron and Ginny. Maybe I'm cursed. Maybe anyone who works with me in the shop–"
"That's not true – and it's an ugly road to travel, mate. Trust me. If anything, it's far more likely that being around me will get you killed, but we can't think about it that way. Ginny and Ron need us, so we have to do what's best for them. I told Ron I'd make him a breakfast tray, and that's what I'm going to do. Food always makes Ron feel better."
Hermione chuckled weakly. "That is true."
"You need to eat something, too, Hermione. I'll bring a few things up here."
"I don't think I could eat," Hermione said. Like him, she went off food when she was upset – a far more sensible response, Harry thought.
"Eat anyway. Isn't that what you lot keep telling me?" he asked ruefully.
George didn't accept, but he didn't refuse, either. Harry hurried down into the kitchen and prepared two trays with the food he'd left warming. He sent one into the sitting room, and carried the other up to the room Vivian was now calling the Infirmary. The door was closed, and he couldn't hear anything. He set the tray down outside it and returned to the others.
Despite her protest, Hermione picked at the tray, sampling various items, and even George – who had eaten a full plate earlier – was munching on some cheese. The sofa was mercifully empty, so Harry stretched out on it, resting his head on the arm. Before he'd even been there a moment, Crookshanks jumped up and plopped down on Harry's stomach. Harry absently scratched his ears, and the cat began to purr.
"Did you see anyone upstairs?" Hermione asked immediately.
"No. The door was shut and sealed. I'm certain Vivian will talk to us when she's finished," Harry said.
"And don't forget, she said a Healer would be stopping by," George said.
Harry allowed his heavy eyelids to close. The murmur of conversation between George and Hermione, and the gentle scraping of silverware on the plates along with the soothing sound of Crookshanks purring lulled his worried mind, and unable to stay awake any longer, he gradually drifted off to sleep.
Author's Note: Thanks very much for the Trinket Award Nominations over at SIYE! Very much appreciated whoever did that!
Well, there you go. Please take a moment to hit reply and share your thoughts. It helps to know what you're thinking of the story.
Much thanks and appreciation to my beta team, Sherylyn, Arnel and Sue for their time, comments and suggestions. They truly make this a better story.
