It Only Takes A Drop of Blood
Chapter 3: More Bad News
Harry paced from the window to the door, waiting for Taylor to arrive. With his time at the hospital ending, his day was full of appointments and meetings. As a result, the doctor had asked him to stay longer after his work had completed for the day so he could give him the final results of the exams.
His hand was shaky as he ran it through his hair and he swallowed thickly, looking at the door again. A positive meant that he was dying of a Muggle disease; a negative meant that something still might be wrong. Harry didn't know which was worse.
The door creaked loudly and Harry's head shot up so fast he was surprised he didn't hurt himself. Taylor walked in, leaving his coat by the door.
"Ah, Potter. You're here," Taylor said shakily, his face drawn. He sat down at his desk. "Take a seat."
Harry swallowed heavily. That didn't sound good at all. His heart was pounding loudly against his chest; he was surprised that Taylor couldn't hear it.
"Sir, what… I mean, how…" Harry tried to start, but he couldn't seem to form the right words.
Taylor looked sympathetically at his patient. "The results were positive, Potter. You have leukaemia."
Harry froze his body unable to move. Positive… oh dear Merlin…. He felt something clench painfully in his chest; he couldn't breathe.
Taylor put a hand over his patient's and tried to stir him from his shock. "Potter? Potter?"
Harry blinked and looked at the doctor. His shoulders fell in defeat and something was crumbling inside him. "What will I do now?" he whispered despondently.
Taylor's hand tightened over his. "Trust me," he said. "I'll start treatment right away. You're going to be alright."
The teenager bowed his head, black hair falling into his eyes. Harry wished it was that simple. Letting out a shaky breath, he looked up again. "I go to a boarding school in Scotland," he said. "How can you help me if I'm there? Will I be forced to stay in Surrey?" His heart raced.
"No," Taylor said reassuringly, still squeezing his hand gently. "If you'll recall, I am being relocated to a small hospital in Dundee within the month. Most of my patients come for their treatment and go back home within a few hours. All that needs to be done is arrange transport between your school and the nearest hospital. As long as your cell counts stay up, it can be done."
Taylor paused and added, "I would also need to speak with the doctor or nurse at your school."
Harry cursed silently. He could work out transport, probably, but Madam Pomfrey was a whole other problem. He just prayed that his Confunded doctor would buy his next lie.
"My school doesn't really have a telephone," Harry said. "It's old-fashioned and very secretive. I'll contact my headmaster and I'm sure that he could arrange something. If you could just, er, write a letter for the school nurse, I can ask him to give it to her."
Luckily, the dazed look fell over the man's eyes and he vaguely nodded.
"Not a problem. The bone marrow exams confirmed that you have leukaemia, but to treat you best, I'll have to do a lumbar puncture. I will take a thin needle and insert it into your back. I can use your spinal fluid to determine which medicines to give you," Taylor explained.
Harry gave a reluctant nod. "When do you need to do it?" he asked. All he got these days were more needles.
Taylor rustled the pages of his calendar. "Well, I need the results as soon as possible… my first opening is Thursday morning at ten. Come in at nine and I'll send you home early. You shouldn't move too much after a lumbar puncture," he said.
Harry looked down at his hands. He did feel awful lazy, missing all these days of work. He pointed this out to his doctor.
Taylor waved away his concerns. "Not to worry. You are employed by me, not the hospital. And in any case, your health is more important than packing my boxes."
Harry felt a warm glow in his chest, despite his embarrassment. It was nice to hear someone say that and actually mean it. If only the Dursleys had such an opinion. "Thanks," he said, not knowing what else to say.
The older man just smiled at him. He glanced as his clock and winced. "Well, I've held you long enough for today. Unless you have any other questions, you should probably head home. I wouldn't want you to miss the bus," Taylor said apologetically.
Harry cursed mentally after checking his wrist. He stood up and thanked Taylor. "See you tomorrow," he called out as he rushed out of the office. Uncle Vernon was going to be angry if dinner wasn't ready when he got home.
Night quickly fell and saw Harry putting away the last of the dishes. He found that the warm wash water and repetitive motion of dish cleaning often left him in a contemplative state.
Why did he always have to have a death sentence? First it was Voldemort, now cancer. His chest ached; it wasn't fair. Harry had accepted that he might die early, but he had expected that Voldemort would be the one to off him. Not some bloody disease.
He had also expected something clean and quick. Maybe a little torture first but then a Killing Curse to the chest and it would be over. Like that. If he had to choose death, he wanted to die with some dignity and honour intact. Not a death that would weaken him until he wasted away. Harry sighed heavily, enjoying the feeling of air in his lungs.
Harry put the last of the plates in the cupboard and wiped his hands on the rough terry cloth. He looked out the kitchen window and glanced at the peaceful night, a light mist flowing over the back garden. He didn't want to die.
A particularly loud crash emanated from the sitting room where the entire Dursley family was watching the telly. Harry was jolted out of his melancholy by raucous laughter. With a last glance outside, he left the kitchen and went straight up to his room, trying to be as quiet as possible.
Yawning, he flopped onto his bed and stretched out his arms. Harry didn't really feel like doing much of anything—other than brooding, of course. It didn't seem right or fair that he was now ill on top of everything else.
He thought about his friends. Sirius. Dumbledore. He didn't know what to do. He didn't know who to confide in.
He could tell Ron and Hermione but they couldn't do anything except worry and pity him. And Harry didn't want pity.
Harry cared about his friends. More than they would ever know, he presumed. When he left with Uncle Vernon every summer, it was as if part of him was left on the platform with them. And when he saw them again, it was as if he was whole again.
Whenever he was with Ron, he felt like he could just be himself, for good or for worse. And when he was with Hermione, he felt as if he had someone who was happy that he was him. That he existed.
They were his best friends and he didn't want anything to change between them. He didn't want to upset them and make them worry. His heart clenched, imagining their stricken faces. How could he do that to them?
He shoved their faces to the side. It hurt too much to see them so agonized. Instead, he focused on another smiling face.
He could tell Sirius. But could Sirius really help? The man was a convicted felon and couldn't exactly sit by Harry's bedside as he took ages to die. And Harry didn't really know how Sirius would respond. Despite the letters and seeing him a few times last year, Harry felt like Sirius was a stranger. A hollow feeling erupted in his chest.
He didn't know Sirius's favourite colour or who his first girlfriend was. His breathing quickened. He didn't know anything about Sirius' family or where he lived after Hogwarts. Harry's heart raced in his empty chest. He didn't know his own godfather. Emotional pain spread through his heart and he squeezed his eyes shut.
Harry tried to think of something special about Sirius. Something unique that nobody else knew about him. Everything was blank. There were flashes of Sirius's face, but no specific moment or feeling came up. He felt so alone.
Pressing his face into the lumpy pillow beneath his head, Harry forced those thoughts away, taking calming breaths.
At least it would make it easier to say goodbye to Sirius; it wasn't as if his godfather knew him any better than Harry knew Sirius. He could move on.
Harry bit his lip as his mind moved to Dumbledore.
There weren't words to properly describe how Harry felt about Dumbledore. He was kind and caring. Dumbledore made Harry feel safe and smart. He was everything that Harry thought a grandfather would be.
And despite all that, he hadn't heard from his headmaster all summer. He had sent letters, asking when he could leave the Dursleys, but each reply was "Soon Harry."
When Harry asked his friends to answer, all he got were a few half-arsed apologies and cryptic messages saying that Dumbledore said not to say anything. Dumbledore.
Harry didn't know how to react or feel. Before this summer, he would have trusted his headmaster in a heartbeat. But now, after a summer with nearly no contact from the wizarding world, Harry's faith in Dumbledore was beginning to wane.
Harry sighed. If Dumbledore couldn't trust him, then how could he trust Dumbledore?
Harry knew that his cancer was serious. It could be terminal. But if he told Dumbledore, could he do something? Could he find some way to cure him? Or would he just tell Harry to trust him, pat him on the head and send him on his way?
His fists clenched, nails biting into his skin. He didn't want to be coddled like a child. Anger bubbled dangerously warm within him.
He had so many questions and none were being answered. But he did know that Dr. Taylor was willing to try and help him. And whatever they did at the hospital seemed to work for most of the Muggles there. Maybe Taylor could help him too.
Harry didn't think that he should tell Dumbledore about Taylor. Pomfrey used potions in the Hospital Wing and Dumbledore might ask Snape to make Harry a potion to cure him of cancer. And he didn't trust Snape. If he told Dumbledore about Taylor, and Dumbledore told Snape, then Snape would tell Voldemort and put Taylor in danger.
Taylor, a mere Muggle, wouldn't stand a chance against Voldemort and Harry wasn't going to risk it.
So no Dumbledore, Sirius, Hermione or Ron. Harry sighed and chucked his glasses onto his desk. Curling up into a ball, he snuggled under his blanket. It wasn't the right time yet.
How could he tell them now, even if he wanted to? While Hedwig was a wonderful post owl, Hermione and Ron kept saying that the post wasn't safe enough. If the post wasn't safe for him to learn about Voldemort, surely it wasn't safe for his news. And after all, what kind of person would he be if he told his best friends and godfather that he had terminal cancer, in a letter?
No, it would have to be in person. And he would have to tell them soon. But Harry was willing to draw it out as long as possible. Till Christmas, if need be.
He just wished that he didn't feel so uneasy about keeping this particular secret to himself.
The next few days passed in a dizzying blur. Harry spent his free evenings brooding or reading his mum's diaries. He had even started taking walks at night, just after the dinner dishes were washed. The cool air was refreshing and it had the bonus of getting him away from the Dursleys.
Among his list of items to brood about, Hedwig hadn't arrived from Sirius's yet and Harry was getting worried. It didn't normally take her this long to deliver letters. He hoped that nothing had happened to her.
Speaking of brooding, although Thursday's lumbar puncture went well, according to Taylor, Harry had the opinion that any test requiring such a long needle was evil and terrible and should be damned to hell.
Regardless, Harry was sent home after the half hour he spent resting in the hospital. Taylor told him to drink plenty of water and lie down for six to eight hours when he got home. Harry mentally scoffed. The Dursleys would not be happy that he was home early, let alone allow him to 'be lazy' for hours on end. Harry just hoped that Aunt Petunia wasn't in the house when he arrived. He'd be able to sneak upstairs and avoid the Dursleys for the entire afternoon.
On the bus, Harry let his head rest against the back of his seat. A headache had already begun to appear and unease coursed through him. Dr. Taylor said that he needed to lie down every time he got a headache. It was common after the exam, but it could get worse if he did not rest. And Harry did not want it to get worse.
A sharp spike of pain shot through the space between his eyes. He hissed and pressed a hand against it. The ache then moved to the sides of his head and to just above and on his ears. Harry bent over, hoping that would stem the agony. It did little to help and he whimpered under his breath.
"Dearie? Are you alright?" a trembling high-pitched voice asked.
Through squinted eyes, Harry looked up to see that old woman with the purple handbag who rode on the bus once or twice a week with him.
"Yes, I'm fine," Harry said hastily. He cringed as the pain went back to his temples. "Just a headache. Thanks."
The old woman looked disbelieving, but nodded slowly. "Well, alright lad." She shuffled back to her seat, eyeing him every few seconds, as if he were about to fall to the ground and have a fit.
Harry was very relieved when he was able to get off the bus. The woman had continued to stare at him the entire ride and it was very disconcerting. His headache was still present, so he hurried back to the Dursleys, stumbling over his feet and tripping on nothing.
At last he arrived at Number Four and was relieved to see that the car wasn't in the driveway. Uncle Vernon wasn't home then. He carefully let himself into the house and heard someone moving around in the kitchen. His aunt or Dudley then, but because the telly was off, he predicted the former.
Harry tiptoed to the stairs and tried to scramble up them. Sadly, his foot trod on the creaky step when his head decided to send a shooting pain into his eyes. He clenched his lip between his teeth, praying that his aunt had not heard him. When Harry realized that she wasn't yelling at him, he sighed in relief.
He climbed the rest of the way and stole into his bedroom. The bed had never looked so inviting, Harry thought, as he sprawled out on it. His headache took some time before it ebbed to a dull roar. Sleepy from the pain and the long morning, Harry let his eyes close, hoping that he would be allowed to rest through the night.
"BOY!" Vernon thundered as he slammed Harry's door open.
The teenager's eyes snapped open and he rolled off the bed to face his uncle's wrath. The man was shaking and his face was a dangerous shade of puce.
"I come home from a long day at the office to find the house a mess, dinner unprepared and you have the audacity to be SLEEPING!" Vernon shouted, cracking his knuckles menacingly. "To make up for your laziness, you will be cleaning the inside of this house until it shines, do you hear me! You sure as effing hell won't be sleeping tonight, boy."
Harry gulped and nodded hastily, trying not to wince as his head throbbed dangerously. "Yes Uncle Vernon," he said his heart in his throat. As much as his brain was screaming at him to argue and disobey, the sight of his uncle looming over him was enough to put him on autopilot.
His uncle glared at him and practically threw him downstairs by the scruff of his shirt. "Get to work, freak!" he ordered thunderously.
Harry pulled the cleaning supplies from his cupboard and started washing the windows immediately. He had a headache to defeat even Voldemort and exhaustion was creeping over him, but all that paled in comparison to his uncle beating him like he always threatened.
After a few moments, Vernon left satisfied that Harry was doing as ordered. The aching in his back melted away as Harry's tense muscles relaxed. He continued cleaning the sitting room, even though it was spotless. He had cleaned it this morning but that didn't make a difference to Vernon. As long as he had a chance to threaten and yell at Harry, he really didn't give a damn about how the house looked. That was Aunt Petunia's area of expertise.
The night wore on and the Dursleys ate, watched the telly and then went to bed. Vernon gave Harry another glare to remind him that he was to stay up all night, cleaning. Harry sighed in despair as his uncle went upstairs.
It would be easy to run through his tasks, fall into bed and wake up before his uncle to resume, but he wasn't sure that it would be right to risk it. His uncle could either go to bed and sleep all night, or he could get up at odd times of the night to check that he was still working. And Harry wasn't sure if he wanted to chance sleeping, in case of the latter.
With another sigh, he finished mopping the kitchen floor and returned the supplies to his cupboard. The ground floor was complete, but he still had the top to finish. And that meant cleaning while his relatives were sleeping.
His head throbbed and echoed his footsteps as he made his way to the bathroom. It didn't take terribly long to clean it and he was onto the guest bedroom. He tidied that and Dudley's room without any trouble. He practically held his breath the entire time he was cleaning his aunt and uncle's room, as both would raise hell if he woke them up. He luckily escaped and finished by mopping the second floor.
When the entire house was gleaming, Harry sprawled out on his bed and enjoyed the coolness of the pillow on his warm and sweaty forehead. It didn't take long for him to drift off and he spent the night in very strange dreams.
When he woke in the morning, his head still ached and his arms throbbed from cleaning the night before. Thankfully, Vernon had forgotten his anger and tucked into Harry's carefully-constructed breakfast. The teenager sighed in relief and hurried out the door as soon as his uncle had left. While his headache echoed his steps, Harry was away from the Dursleys—if only for a little while.
Taylor had taken one look at him and frowned, ordering Harry to go home and rest. Harry refused. He didn't want to give the Dursleys another reason to lock him in his room until the first of September. Harry insisted that he stay and work. Finally Taylor gave in, but he still eyed the exhausted teenager with worry and suspicion.
Harry diligently set his mind to packing all the boxes that had been put aside while he'd been ill. He actually made decent progress that morning, finishing up all the files and half a bookcase of Taylor's books. The doctor then forced him downstairs for lunch.
Harry picked at his food, not really hungry. Taylor ate his cold pasta slowly, eyeing Harry as he chewed. Just as Harry had nearly given up on his dry cheese sandwich, the doctor spoke up.
"The children of my ward are holding a party tomorrow night. For patients only, you understand. But they asked if I could offer you, well all my patients, an invitation," Taylor said awkwardly. "You are starting treatment very soon after all, so you are technically a patient."
Harry was still and tense. Should he go? If he could get away from the Dursleys, it might actually be fun. Sure, they were Muggles, but did that really matter?
"Yeah," Harry said quietly. He looked up from his food and smiled tentatively at his doctor. "That sounds great. I'll be there!"
Taylor nodded with a slight grin on his lips. "I'll tell Maria to let you in. It begins at seven and lasts until eleven o'clock," he said.
Harry nodded, emotions swirling inside. He felt nervous already. "Thanks," he said after a moment.
Taylor inclined his head. He eyed Harry's plate. "And eat your lunch Potter," he said with a stern concern. "You need all the nutrients you can get."
Harry took a bite of his sandwich sheepishly. The food rolled unpleasantly in his stomach but he forced the nutrition down.
As both had finished, they got up from the table and walked back to the sixth floor ward. There was a comfortable silence between them and Harry's shoulders relaxed slightly. A Muggle party on Saturday. He smiled.
Harry smoothed down his shirt with shaky hands. He stood in front of the mirror in the Dursleys' bathroom trying to make himself presentable. His hair wouldn't lie flat and his shirt was too wrinkled. Sighing in frustration, Harry blew a strand of hair out of his eyes with a short gust of breath. Eventually giving up, he walked downstairs and out the door.
His relatives had gone out for the evening and left him alone, thankfully leaving his door unlocked. Taking advantage, Harry dressed and left for his first non-Hogwarts party. His shoulders were tense and his stomach was roiling in excitement and nervousness.
He walked to the Muggle bus stop by the park and glanced around himself tentatively. He pulled a hat down low over his face to hide his scar and eyes. Deciding that he was alone, Harry pulled out his wand and raised it in the air.
Bang! A bright purple bus screeched into existence in front of him, the doors opening quickly. Stan Shunpike was standing on the step already beginning his speech. Harry waved him off and asked, "Can you take me to a Muggle area in Staines? It's right next to the train station."
Stan rubbed his stubbly chin in thought. "I dunno... Hey Ern'? Can we drop 'im off there?" he asked.
Ernie, the driver, grunted. Stan shrugged. "Awright. Says it's fine. Tha'll be eleven sickles," Stan said, holding out a gritty palm.
Harry pressed the silver coins into the conductors hand and went to sit on one of the rocking beds. It didn't take more than a few minutes before the Knight Bus to arrive. Harry hurried off the vehicle, not wanting to wait for Stan to recognize him. He breathed a sigh of relief when he heard the telltale bang!
Harry put his hands in his pockets and walked the almost kilometre to the hospital. He hadn't wanted to risk getting off the Knight Bus in front of his location, so he chose the train station, a good walk away from it.
Once he had walked through the sliding doors of the lobby, Harry pulled off his hat and tried to fix his hair. Finally deciding that it was a lost cause, he called the lift. It took him up to the sixth floor and he descended into the hallway, his shoes squeaking against the clean floor.
As he passed the front desk, he nodded at Maria. She smiled and greeted him as he moved past her. Harry then walked through an arch of balloons, into what was usually the ward's lounge. He could hear the laughter, music and conversation of young adults.
His hands were damp with nervousness when he first walked into the crowd of people. There were all sorts of children and teenagers, ranging from ten to seventeen or eighteen years old. Some of the attendees were very formally dressed; others were wearing nightclothes and hospital bands. There were a few pairs on the dance floor but most of the people were strewn about the sides of the room, sitting at or standing by tables.
Harry looked around, not sure where to begin. Should he just start talking to someone? How did a wizard talk to Muggles anyway? What the hell was he doing here?
Just as he was about to turn-tail and run, he heard, "You look a bit lost," come from a voice on his right. Harry moved his head and saw a pretty girl about his age standing next to him.
"Just a bit," Harry admitted with a wry grin. "I don't really know anyone here."
The girl smiled. "I'm Clarisse," she said, holding out her hand.
"Harry," he returned, shaking her calloused hand. His stomach fluttered and he smiled back easily.
"Nice to meet you Harry," she offered, sitting down at a table. "Why don't you join me?"
After a moment of hesitation, Harry sat down in the proffered chair. "Thanks."
Clarisse nodded. Silence passed between them. Finally, she spoke up, "How do you like the party so far?"
Harry shrugged. "It's ... different. I've never been to a dance before."
"Really?" she asked a shocked expression on her face. "Never?"
Harry nodded. "My school had a ball last year but it was nothing like this," he admitted.
Clarisse's expression relaxed. "Well, at least you've been to a school dance. I've only ever been to hospital parties." She sighed and shrugged. "While they can be awfully dull, at least they are better than nothing at all."
"How many? Have you gone to, I mean," Harry said, stumbling over his words. His tongue felt thick in his mouth.
She smiled wryly. "This'll be my sixth," she said. "I've been in and out of hospital since I was eight, but I only started coming to the parties when I was twelve."
Harry looked at her. She didn't look ill to him, although she'd have to be to attend the party. Just like him.
Clarisse returned his stare. After eyeing him for a moment, she said astutely, "You're new to this, aren't you?"
Harry looked away a moment before nodding, not looking at Clarisse.
"When'd you find out?" she asked quietly.
"Dr. Taylor just ran the tests a couple of days ago. I start treatment next week," Harry admitted, gazing at his hands.
Clarisse didn't say anything, simply reaching out and putting her hand on his. Harry let her, feeling her pleasant warmth. It was nice, sitting here with her, talking about it.
"Thanks," Harry croaked, when he could speak again. He looked at her.
She smiled softly. "You're welcome," she said. After a brief pause, she continued, "I was diagnosed with an osteosarcoma when I was nearly nine years old. It was terrifying but I got through it." She looked into his eyes. "You will too."
"How do you know?" Harry asked quietly, his eyes locked with hers.
"Because I have to believe that we will," she murmured. She looked away and sniffed suspiciously. When she turned back to him, the bright smile was back on his face. She squeezed his hand comfortingly and said brightly, "Now, come! I want you to meet some of my friends."
Harry let himself be pulled to his feet and dragged over to a group of boys and girls mingling around the drinks table. He put a smile on his face and pushed his worries to the side of his mind.
"Oi, you lot! Come meet Harry!" Clarisse called out. The faces turned to greet them with easy smiles and open grins.
Clarisse pulled him up to the front and introduced them from left to right. "Gents, ladies, this is Harry. Harry, these are my friends: Patrick, James, Lucy, Mike and Gertie."
"Nice to meet you," Harry said amiably, shaking the proffered hands.
"Likewise," James said. He was tall with sleek blond hair and laughing blue eyes. In fact, he was the only other person there with hair. "Welcome to the plebs!"
"The what?" Harry inquired, laughing slightly at the name.
"Plebs," Gertie offered. She was dark-skinned with warm brown eyes. "He means plebeians. James came up with it after reading this book about Ancient Rome. The plebeians were regular citizens that had the potential to become influential and wealthy."
"Thank you for that excellent bit of trivia, Gerts," Mike said wryly, rolling his eyes. "She's a walking encyclopaedia, she is."
Gertie pushed him and huffed in mock irritation.
"Aw Mike, leave her alone!" Patrick argued, throwing an arm around Gertie. "You know she can't help it. She's just too smart for her own good." Gertie looked mollified and put her arm around Patrick.
Mike just sniggered. "You just say that because you fancy her," he countered.
"So what if he does," Lucy piped up. She raised an eyebrow at Mike. "At least he's got a girl." She looked pointedly at him and the rest of the group guffawed.
Harry grinned at the close-knit bunch. Clarisse still had her hand in his and she moved closer to lean against him. Harry let her and his stomach did that fluttering thing again.
"So Harry," Mike said, breaking him out of his reverie. "We haven't seen you around before. Did you just move or something?"
"Well," Harry started hesitantly. "I go to boarding school in Scotland for most of the year but I spend my summers in the Little Whinging."
Some of his new friends looked a little confused. Clarisse stepped in. "He's new," she said. Understanding dawned and they nodded, smiling at him.
Harry felt the dark cloud return but he tried to push it aside. They were looking at him sympathetically but their expressions were void of pity.
"Who's your doctor?" Gertie asked her arm still around Patrick.
"Err, Taylor," Harry said, focusing on the warmth pressing against him.
Mike smiled. "He's great. A bit young, sure, but he has the highest rate of remissions in the hospital. He's my doctor too," he said.
"The rest of us are split between Doctors Richards and Pryce," Patrick chimed in. "Lovely chaps, they are."
Harry grinned. After a pause, he spoke up. "So, where do all of you go to school?" he asked.
James grimaced. "Most of us are home-schooled," he said. "Gertie goes to day school at St. Mary's and I go to CCSS during the year."
Harry nodded and ran a hand through his hair. He felt uncomfortable about mentioning an obviously tetchy subject. "Err, sorry," he offered.
Mike shrugged. "It's okay. Got over it a long time ago. Besides, if I play my cards right, I can sometimes talk my mum out of assigning homework," he grinned cheekily.
Everyone laughed. The tension eased from the conversation and Harry was quickly integrated into the group. He didn't even notice the time pass but when Marie came in to usher the stragglers out or to bed, Harry realized that it was time to go.
"Gosh, the time just flew, didn't it?" Gertie exclaimed. After Patrick, Mike, Lucy and Clarisse had gone back to their rooms, Gertie, James and Harry had gone down to the lobby. Harry was a little put out that Clarisse had to leave but he promised to see her again soon. His stomach had fluttered wildly when she kissed him on the cheek before letting Marie shoo her off.
Harry had waited courteously for his friends to be picked up before he left. He could call the Knight Bus instantly, after all.
"Quite," James agreed. "Usually these things just drag on forever but I have to admit that this party was rather fun."
Harry nodded and shoved his hands in his pockets. "I don't think I've had this much fun in ages," he said after a moment.
James and Gertie eyed him. "Yeah, I know how that is," James said. "But it gets better. Acceptance comes with time."
Harry smiled weakly, knowing where James' mind had gone. Too bad Harry was talking about more than just cancer. "It's not that," he admitted. "Someone three years ahead of me at school was murdered at the end of my last term. I watched it happen."
James and Gertie looked shocked and horrified. "It's been hard. I've f-felt so guilty," Harry said, ashamed as a lump formed in his throat. He cleared it roughly and forced the tears back. "Sorry."
Gertie shook her head. "No, that's okay," she said. "I had a friend who died last year. A drunk driver hit her when she was coming to visit me in the hospital." Harry looked at her. James put a comforting arm around her shoulders and Gertie leaned into him. She had tears in her eyes. "I understand how you feel." Harry nodded and swallowed.
A car rolled up beside the curb, surprising them, and a man looked out of the open window. "Hey Gertie, James!" he said.
"Hey dad," Gertie said, her tears gone. "Dad, this is Harry. Harry, this is my father, Hubert Newman."
"Nice to meet you, sir," Harry said with a wave.
"Same to you, son," the man said as James opened the door for Gertie. "Are your parents coming to pick you up?"
"Err, no sir," Harry said. "I'm taking the train home. My aunt and uncle are out for the evening."
Mr. Newman looked concerned. "It's a bit late for you to be going home by yourself. Why don't you hop in? I'll drop you off," he said.
"No, that's alright," Harry said politely. "I live quite far from here and I travel frequently alone. But thank you."
"No, no, I insist," Mr. Newman said sternly. "Get in, it's no trouble. We're headed that way anyway."
Harry couldn't argue anymore without seeming rude, so he got in the back seat, next to James. He smiled at them.
"Thanks Mr. Newman," Harry said politely, buckling his seatbelt.
"You're welcome, Harry," the older man said, pulling off the curb.
Mr. Newman talked while he drove, chattering about all sorts of things, from the weather to the newest Bentley car model. Mr. Newman was a cars salesman and it seemed that he was good at his job. He asked Harry and James questions and teased Gertie relentlessly, but the drive was overall a pleasant experience.
Mr. Newman dropped Harry off first, since James and Gertie lived just a few streets off from each other. Harry thanked him again and wished them all a good night. James had exchanged phone numbers and promised to call about an outing later in the week. Harry just hoped that his uncle would be more receptive to a call from a Muggle than a wizard.
Harry walked up the path and opened the front door. He turned around to see Mr. Newman just pulling out of the driveway and leaving. Harry waved to the car and went inside. A warm feeling grew in his chest. He had had a great night and made some new friends. Muggle ones, at that.
The Dursleys weren't back yet, so his happy mood persisted. He opened the door to his bedroom and saw Hedwig waiting on her perch.
"Hedwig!" he cried happily. She hooted tiredly but flew to his shoulder and nuzzled his head. Harry stroked her warm feathery chest. "I missed you, girl."
Hedwig clearly had missed him too. She held out her leg and Harry untied the heavy letters from it. He fed her an owl treat and fetched fresh water for her to drink. She hooted gratefully, settling back on her perch for a long nap.
Harry sat on his bed and opened the letters. The first was from Ron.
Hey Harry!
How's your summer been? It's a madhouse here. I can't really say where we are or what's been going on, but it is bloody exciting. Dumbledore said that the post isn't very secure with You-Know-Who and everything.
Mum has us doing chores like nothing else. She's gone mad. Hermione's here and she's already finished her homework! All she talks about is bloody Krum and her trip to Bulgaria. If I have to hear about him one more time, I think I'll be sick.
Anyway, I've got to go. Mum's calling. Good luck with the Muggles!
-Ron
Harry opened the next letter.
Dear Harry,
How are you? I had a lovely holiday in Bulgaria. Viktor introduced me to his family and took me to all the wizarding landmarks. It was so fascinating! Bulgaria has so much history and Mum and Dad just loved the Rila Monastery, while I preferred the Sveshtari Tomb. We had just a wonderful time.
I'm staying with Ron now and can you believe that he hasn't even started his homework yet! It's just like him to wait until the last minute. Honestly. I hope you've at least begun yours. Snape's essay is particularly difficult and I won't help you if you both end up writing it the night before!
Anyway, we can't really say anything about You-Know-Who, but I hope you are being careful! Dumbledore said that we would be seeing you soon.
Take care Harry!
-Hermione
Harry scowled. Nothing. Not one scrap of information. He felt anger bubble in his chest. Obviously Hermione and Ron were involved in something regarding Voldemort but he wasn't. How bloody unfair!
He took a calming breath and opened the last letter. It was from Sirius.
Hi Harry!
Sorry Hedwig is so late coming back to you! I needed to send an urgent letter out of the country and she was the only available owl at the time. I'm sorry I couldn't ask your permission first.
I hope that you are doing alright at the Muggles. Ron's told me about what happened with Dobby and your relatives. Hang in there.
I know it's frustrating but stay safe. Keep your nose clean and try not to annoy the Muggles too much. You'll be out of there before you know it.
Love,
Sirius
When did Sirius talk to Ron about Dobby? The only time he could have was in the hospital wing in June, but Harry doubted that they would have discussed that then. Maybe Ron and Hermione were with Sirius! That would explain the cryptic messages.
Harry had assumed that they were at the Burrow, but if they were with Sirius, maybe they were somewhere else. But where?
Harry carefully folded the letters and put them in the space under his loose floorboard. He undressed and climbed into bed, turning off his light. Hedwig was already sleeping, her head under her wing. Smiling in the darkness, Harry drifted off to sleep. He'd write letters back in the morning.
A/N: Sorry it took so long to put this out! I'm taking a couple classes this summer so I've had a few things on my plate. But I finally was able to put a good few hours in this afternoon and voila! Instant chapter completion. I hope y'all enjoy it!
I have a plan set out for the next chapter or two, so I'm planning on writing a lot in the next few days. However, I am stuck on a couple points and am still deciding which direction to take. So please have patience!
Thanks to all the people who reviewed so far! I really appreciate the feedback!