Chapter 17: Bad Blood

"…Yes I know that, Hagrid. I heard you the first three times and I am very appreciative of that. But I still will not have that creature in my rooms for one moment longer than is necessary." Madam Pomfrey spoke in hushed tones as she opened the door to the nursery. Hagrid followed her in as she softly cast "Lumos Minimus."

Harry was curled up with his back to the door; the jarvey was lying beside him.

"Good. He's asleep," whispered Pomfrey. "Hagrid? If you would…?" she gestured to the jarvey.

Just as Hagrid reached out to the creature, it leapt up over Harry's body and began licking at his face. Harry didn't even so much as stir.

"Uhg! That's disgusting," whispered Pomfrey harshly. "Hagrid, get that thing off him at once!"

Hagrid lunged, but the jarvey easily dodged the half-giant's grasp. It scampered off the bed and away, and Hagrid followed suite.

Pomfrey reached Harry's bedside. What she saw next momentarily froze her in her tracks: the wound Harry's forehead was open and raw, and his face was covered in blood. "Accio Medibag!" she cried, pointing her wand to the door,

Harry twitched slightly at the sound and the feel of someone's hand pulling on his shoulder and turning him onto his back. Not fully awake, he was vaguely aware that his head hurt and his face felt itchy. He scrubbed at his eyes with his fists, dislodging bits of semi-congealed blood and sank back into slumber.

By this time, Hagrid had caught the jarvey and had also dropped her at Madam Pomfrey's startled spellcasting. "Wha's wrong?" he gasped as the creature scampered unnoticed under the bed and Pomfrey's medibag flew into her waiting hand.

"He's covered in blood!" She hissed as she snatched the bag open and pulled out a cloth and mild cleansing potion. She could not use a Scourgify charm, for she and the Healers at St. Mungo's had agreed it was best not to use spell magic directly on Harry's curse wound – there were simply too many unknowns to risk it. "What could have hap – If that weasel did this to him…" she threatened as she continued gently wiping Harry's face.

Hagrid shook his head in disbelief. "I never shoulda' let him near tha' jarvey. Oh, wha' have I done?" said Hagrid, woefully wringing his hands together.

Ignoring Hagrid's dismay, Pomfrey continued to wipe Harry's cheeks and forehead. Harry began to awaken under her gentle ministrations with the cool cloth. He blinked a few times and saw his guardian, face lined with concern, leaning over him.

"P-Pomfee?"

"It's alright now, Harry. I just need to finish cleaning your face, dear." She spoke with a calmness she did not at all feel. "Harry? Can you tell me what happened?"

"Wha- what?" As awareness slowly returned to Harry, he reached up to his face. Madam Pomfrey gently pushed his hand away.

"Let me clean you off first, dear."

"My…? Oh. My boo boo!" Harry's eyes flew open in a panic.

"Relax Harry." Madam Pomfrey patted his chest reassuringly. "You're going to be just fine," she soothed.

Memories of what Lily had told him came rushing to the fore. Was it too late? Had it happened already? He didn't feel like a bad boy. "My gon' be a good boy," he whispered to himself.

"Yes, dear," soothed Pomfrey. She'd finished cleaning his face and was taking out a sharp smelling salve from her bag. "You are being very good, indeed."

"Otay, den," murmured Harry contentedly, closing his eyes.

After she finished applying the salve, Pomfrey pulled out some soft cotton bandaging. "But Harry, you need to tell me what happened. How did you get hurt?"

Harry opened his eyes again and looked at her, then shut them tight pressing his lips together. My no tell, he thought to himself.

"Harry? It's alright. I won't be angry." Pomfrey was certain Harry was trying to protect his jarvey from getting into trouble. "Look at me, Harry. You need to tell me what happened."

Harry obeyed the first command and looked into his guardian's worried eyes. But then he looked away.

"Are you looking for Darvey, Harry?" she asked.

He hadn't been, but now he wanted to snuggle his pet for comfort, so he nodded slowly in answer.

"Did Darvey do something naughty, Harry?" Pomfrey had to force herself to speak in a calm tone.

"Darvey? No, she not," Harry said, raising his head slightly to look for the creature.

"Lie back down, Harry," Pomfrey patted his chest and he complied. "It's alright. I just need to know what happened. Did Darvey hurt you?"

Harry turned to look at her in shock. "No! Darvey not hurt my. She a good darvey."

Madam Pomfrey sighed and looked over her shoulder up at Hagrid. "Did you catch it?" she asked softly.

Hagrid had just been standing transfixed, mired in misery at the thought that he was the cause of all this. He had forgotten all about catching the jarvey. He hastily cleared his throat. "Erm, oh. Uh, I'm onnit. I'll find her right now, Madam Pomfrey."

"You'd best find her before I do," said Pomfrey darkly as she pressed a cotton square over Harry's wound and gently lifted his head to wrap a longer bandage around him.

Harry winced at this but it was not from pain – the salve had numbed that – it was from fear. Harry held his tongue. He knew that letting his caregiver stop the bleeding was wrong, but he didn't know what to do about it without saying something that would get her sent to the bad place which Lily warned him about.

Hagrid had decided to look under the bed first. "Oh. Got her!" he called, pulling out a wriggling ball of fur.

"I've seen cleaner nails on a rusted hovel," snapped the jarvey, trying to twist out of Hagrid's firm hold.

"Darvey! Ahgi, no hurt Darvey!" wailed Harry trying to sit up.

"Lay still, Harry," admonished Pomfrey, pressing him back again.

"I'll not harm 'er, Harry. Don' you worry."

Watching this exchange, Pomfrey was more convinced than ever that Harry was covering for his pet. "I'm sure she'll be fine Harry," said Pomfrey primly, "but Hagrid and Darvey have to go home now. It's getting very late. Isn't that right, Hagrid?"

"Right, er. Very late. 'Night, now," said Hagrid, making a hasty retreat with the jarvey tucked securely under his arm.

"D'bye Darvey," sniffed Harry. "D'bye Ahgi."

As Harry sadly watched them go, Pomfrey made up a bottle with Blood-Replenishing Potion and 'Sleepy Juice', as Harry called it. "Now you need some sleep as well, Harry," she said kindly. "Drink up. We'll talk more about this in the morning."

Harry took the bottle and began to drink. The sleeping draught began to take effect immediately, and the bottle slipped from his hands. Pomfrey held it for him and lovingly stroked his cheek till he had finished.

~o~

The next morning after breakfast, no amount of coaxing, cajoling or even threats of withholding treacle and quidditch could get Harry to cooperate and talk about how he had been hurt. Pomfrey felt certain that it wasn't that Harry didn't know what had happened, rather that he was refusing to say. The more Pomfrey asked, the more upset Harry became, though he tried to hide it.

The Nurse was at a loss. Could Harry have done this to himself? Had it been an accident. Was it just that his scab had been itching him? Once or twice she had caught Harry picking at his scabbed knees, but he hadn't been as…thorough – and he certainly hadn't cared for the resulting pain. She hadn't thought he would do something like that again. No. It must have been the jarvey. And Harry was showing a fierce loyalty – that his 'older' self was so well known for – in protecting the creature.

That evening, as she was bathing him, Pomfrey decided to try a different tact. "You know Harry," she began, "sometimes when animals, er, accidentally hurt people – hurt their friends – it's a sign that they might be sick and need a Healer to help them."

Harry did not respond, he just continued lifting and submerging his outspread hand in the water, watching the bubbles dribble off.

Pomfrey tried again. "Harry, when you have a pet like Darvey, you have a responsibility to take good care of it." That got Harry's attention; he stopped playing with the bubbles and looked up solemnly at his caregiver. "If something is wrong with Darvey, you have to tell me, Harry, so we can help it – er, her, to get better. I know you want to take good care of your jarvey, don't you, Harry." It wasn't a question, rather more of a reassurance, and it was met with silence as Harry's shoulders slumped and he lowered his gaze. Pomfrey sighed and let her mind wander as she washed Harry's back with a flannel. Tomorrow, she would take him to St. Mungo's. Perhaps the Healers there would have better luck getting through to Harry. But what if they can't? she worried. It was a sobering thought.

After the bath, as Pomfrey was helping Harry to towel off, he broke his silence.

"My do," he said softly. "My tate good tare of Darvey. My help Ahgi give her a baff and feed her. My do 'good boy' fings."

But that was all he would say, and he looked troubled the rest of the evening. It was with a heavy heart that Pomfrey kissed him goodnight, and later, in her own bed, sleep eluded the Hogwarts Nurse as her mind went over and over the events of the previous evening. Realizing it was pointless to stay in bed, she rose, donned her dressing robe and went to her writing desk to compose a letter to owl to St. Mungo's.

As soon as Pomfrey had incanted "Nox," and closed the door most of the way, Harry opened his eyes. He could see the thin line of light from the parlor's torchères fall across the foot of his bed. He lay quite still, listening to the comfortingly familiar sounds of Madam Pomfrey moving about the suite. When he heard her close her bedroom door, he let out a breath. He knew what he had to do. He pushed his bandage up and gingerly touched his forehead, wincing at the contact. The wound felt different now. Unfamiliar, and somehow… unfriendly. It no longer had a hard, bumpy surface. It was a bit soft, and puckered some at the edges, and it was beginning to throb under even this light touch. Eyes watering, Harry took a deep, shuddering breath and tried to marshal himself. With a trembling hand Harry started to drag his fingernails across the wound, but stopped short as the pain caused him to cry out. He clenched his teeth against making further noise and before he could think what to do, he heard the click of Madam Pomfrey's bedroom door opening, followed by her rapidly approaching footfalls. In a panic, Harry pulled the bandage down over his forehead and turned so his back was to the door. Of its own accord, Harry's thumb made its way into his mouth, and he sucked on it nervously.

Pomfrey opened the door, quietly incanting "Lumos Minimus." She waited in the doorway a moment, listening to the sounds of Harry sucking his thumb. She had set a simple monitoring spell on the nursery to alert her if Harry called for her. Perhaps he was just having a nightmare? Pomfrey pocketed her wand and went to straighten Harry's covers. As she leaned over, she could see that his eyes were squeezed tightly shut and he was clutching his Draco sleeve. Awake then. Pomfrey sighed. Why wouldn't Harry talk to her? She leaned down and kissed the top of his head. "It will be alright, Harry," she murmured, "it will be," and she went back to finish her letter.

Harry waited for – what seemed to him, at least – a very long time, until he felt certain that Pomfrey was asleep. Then he pushed his bandage out of the way and set on beginning anew. Gathering his courage, Harry slowly began to feed a corner of his Draco sleeve into his mouth as Lily had shown him. When he could add no more he bit down on the cloth and took deep breaths through his nose. Harry knew he had to do this. He would do this. He had to get rid of his bad blood before somebody got hurt from it.

Harry raised his hand to the wound and his breath quickened in concert with his rising fear. And then his nails were scratching, again and again, until he felt the wetness of the tainted blood on his shaking fingers. He cried silently into his gag as he felt the blood, warm and sticky, creep down over his temples. Harry's head throbbed and he bit down harder on his gag, but could not stop his sobs. It was getting harder to breath through the mucus clogging his nose, so with still trembling hands he pulled out his gag and tried to breathe through his tears quietly.

The pain was receding to a dull throb and Harry began to calm down. As his mind wandered to thoughts of things Lily had told him, he began to feel rather lightheaded. Harry was only mildly aware of the tickling sensation, as the blood continued oozing it's path down the sides of his head to pool on the pillow sham in back of his neck, as he drifted into sleep.

~o~

Pomfrey put down her quill and closed up the inkwell. She cast a drying spell on the parchment and called for Dobby to bring the letter up to the owlry to send to St. Mungo's. Her missive was thorough, letting the Healers know in detail all she knew of what had happened to Harry and asking if they might meet her there the next day – which was Sunday. Before she went to bed, Pomfrey stopped to check in on her charge. She opened the door to the nursery the rest of the way and saw in the dimness that Harry's bedcovers had fallen off his shoulders. As she went closer and reached out to fix them she saw blood on Harry's face.

"Accio medibag!" she gasped, and then cast a Lumos. "Oh, Harry? What is going on?" Pomfrey's bag zipped into her waiting hand and she immediately took up and dampened a cloth with a whispered, "Aguamenti," gently began wiping away the blood.

Harry stirred slightly at the light invading through his closed lids. "Pomfee?" he whispered, his eyes fluttering. When he realized what Madam Pomfrey was doing he pushed her hands away crying, "No! 'Top!"

"I can't stop, Harry, you're bleeding again. But it's going to be alright, let me just stop the bleeding and clean y–"

"NO!" Harry's voice was desperate and the panic was evident on in his eyes.

Misunderstanding the cause of his distress, Madam Pomfrey soothed, "It's alright, Harry dear. You know I'll be very gentle, and I'll put a bandage on it to stop the bleeding and the hurting. You'll be right as rain in no time."

She reached forward to wash him and again Harry pushed her hands away, pleading, "No, Pomfee, you tan't, da bad b-" Instantly, Harry's hands flew to his mouth. He heard Lily's warning in his head. His eyes filled with tears as he realized that he'd almost gotten Madam Pomfrey sent away. He was turning bad already! Harry grabbed his covers up and turned away from the Nurse, panting, "M-my dus wanna...doe seep! My tired, Pomfee!"

Pomfrey pulled the covers back down, "Let me finish taking care of you, Harry, and then you can."

In response, Harry hunched his shoulders up and squeezed his eyes shut, his face in a grimace. Pomfrey pulled gently on Harry's shoulder to turn him over. He curled up more tightly and wouldn't budge. Using her no-nonsense voice, Madam Pomfrey addressed her charge, "Harry James Potter, you will stop this at once and mind me!" She took a deep breath and continued in a kinder tone, "Now turn over so I can reach you properly. Would you like some 'Sleepy Juice'?" she asked.

In a barely audible whisper, Harry pleaded, "Pease yeave my ayone, Pomfee. My go bat a'seep now. My gon wate up a good boy!""

Pomfrey tried again to turn the boy over, but to no avail. She knew she needed help, so she called on the one creature who would and could come to assist Harry at anytime day or night. "Dobby, Harry Potterneeds you!" she called out.

The House-elf appeared instantly with a 'Pop'. Harry looked over his shoulder to see the new arrival, and Dobby's face turned from one of eager earnestness to utter dismay when he saw Harry's condition. "Oh, no! Poor Harry Potter is hurt!"

"He is, Dobby. I need you to help me turn him over so I can clean and bandage his wound. He's quite a bit frightened, Dobby," and to Harry she added, "But you needn't be, Harry. Everything is going to be alright," she said with as cheerful a tone as she could muster. "Now you can hold Dobby's hands and squeeze them tight if you're scared. Dobby won't mind, will you, Dobby?"

"Oh, no, Dobby is not minding at all! Dobby wants to help Harry Potter in any way he can." Dobby hopped up on the bed and reached for Harry's hands, but Harry pulled away. Looking up with a mixture of confusion and concern on his face, Dobby said, "Mistress Madam Pomfrey? Mr. Harry Potter is not wanting to hold Dobby's hands?"

Madam Pomfrey swallowed and said, "He is very afraid, Dobby. But if you truly are his friend and want to help him, take his hands and don't let go."

The house-elf nodded solemnly at this and firmly took Harry's hands in his own. "Hold Dobby's Hands, Harry Potter. Dobby is helping you now."

Harry tried to pull free, but Dobby only looked at him sadly and held fast. Harry didn't know what to do. He pressed his lips together and shook his head – which only served to make it ache more. He was afraid to speak; afraid that anything he might say would cause Madam Pomfrey or Dobby to disappear to a bad place as Lily had said. He bit his lips to keep from talking, and as Madam Pomfrey cleaned his face, all Harry could do to try to avoid her relentless flannel was to turn his head this way and that way. But the Nurse was persistent, and despite his attempts to evade her and his streaming tears, she had him washed, re-salved and bandaged in no time.

"All done now, Harry. Dobby, you may let go. And thank you," said the Nurse sincerely.

By this time, Harry was sobbing openly. As soon as Dobby released him, Harry's hands flew up to pull off his new bandage, and he started scratching at the raw wound again, crying out more at the pain.

"Harry, NO!" shouted Madam Pomfrey, grabbing at his wrists. "What are you doing?"

But Harry pulled away and succeeded in reopening the wound, begging, "Yeave my ayone, pease Pomfee! Pease! Pease!" He shut his eyes tight and continued the mantra, his voice getting ever louder and more frantic.

Pomfrey shouted over Harry's cries. "Dobby, help me hold him still - he's hysterical!" She was feeling a bit hysterical herself and she quickly stifled the feeling. Then she did something she never thought she would do to someone in her charge. Drawing her wand from her apron, she cast, "Immobulus!" Both Harry and Dobby were caught in the spell. Pomfrey retrieved a fast-acting sleeping draught from her medibag and using her wand, she unstoppered the glass vial and directed a dram of the liquid into Harry's mouth. She waited a full minute before casting, "Finite."

Once he was released, Harry reflexively swallowed the potion in his throat and there was an immediate effect. Harry's eyelids half closed and he slurred a last pitiable "Pease," before his eyes closed and a deep sleep enveloped him.

Madam Pomfrey stood frozen for a moment, just watching Harry as Dobby backed off of the bed, shaking his head sadly. Then she took in a deep shuddering breath and dropped the bottle. She looked at it oddly, as though not connecting the noise it made as it shattered on the floor with any action on her part. "Thank you, Dobby. Would you be so kind as to wake the Headmistress for me, and bring us up a strong pot of tea?" Dobby nodded in uncharacteristic silence and vanished with a somehow subdued 'Pop'.

By the time the House-elf returned, Madam Pomfrey had Scourgified Harry's pillow sham, bedding, pyjamas and his Draco-sleeve. She had tucked him under the covers and reluctantly applied a sticking charm to them, so that Harry wouldn't be able to pull off his bandage and harm himself again.

"Is the Headmistress on her way, Dobby?" she asked lowering herself into the nursery's rocker and accepting a tea cup from the house-elf.

"Dobby is sorry, Mistress Madam Pomfrey. But Headmistress McGonagall was not in her chambers. Winky is telling Dobby that Headmistress McGonagall joined the search for some third year Gryffindors who were being very naughty and going out to the Forbidden Forest."

Pomfrey took a long draught of the steaming liquid. It scalded her tongue, though she hardly noticed. She let out another deep sigh and sat back in the chair.

"Is Harry Potter being alright now, Nurse Madam Pomfrey?"

"I wish I knew, Dobby... I hope so."