It Only Takes a Drop of Blood
Chapter 9: Hogwarts
The morning of September 1st was as hectic as always. Harry woke up to Ron nudging him awake with a foot while the red-head stuffed an armful of clothes into his already bulging trunk.
"...better hurry up. Mum's going ballistic, she says we're going to miss the train..."
Harry got dressed and slipped on his trainers to the delightful screeching of Mrs. Black's portrait and Mrs. Weasley screaming at the twins because they nearly killed Ginny. There was a lot of careening down the stairs and dodging flying trunks before he finally maneuvered his own to the entrance hall.
It was a mess. Harry heaved a sigh when he was finally outside of the house, Mrs. Weasley at his side and Sirius chasing his tail.
"Where's Tonks?" he asked as the stone steps of the house vanished behind them.
"She's waiting for us just up here," the older woman said stiffly, refusing to look in Sirius' direction.
Harry smiled at his godfather's tongue lolled out of his mouth and he romped around. He could understand why Mrs. Weasley was so serious but really, regular breaks from the house were doing Sirius good. The ex-convict brooded less, took more interest in goings on and was more prone to listen to reason than instinct — which made Harry feel better about leaving when his godfather's usually reckless behavior could rear its ugly head at any moment.
"Wotcher, Harry," an old woman with a purple hat said, winking. "Better hurry up, hadn't we, Molly?"
The two women talked and Sirius took off, chasing his tail and attacking pigeons. Harry laughed and ruffled the dog's fur every time he came running back to them. He ignored Mrs. Weasley's pursed lips. If cancer had taught him anything, it was to enjoy every moment of his life, especially the time he had with his godfather. He had to live every minute he had left instead of focusing on overbearing security. The suffocation would kill him faster than Voldemort or leukemia.
The trip to King's Cross proved that Voldemort wasn't hiding behind dustbins to do him in and it took them just a few moments to slip through the platform barrier. Harry took a deep breath as the familiarity of the Hogwarts Express washed over him. He'd survived the summer and he was finally going back to Hogwarts. Just being there made four weeks of painful chemotherapy all worth it.
"I hope the others make it in time," Mrs. Weasley said anxiously from his side. Harry looked back at the barrier, only to be distracted by a tall boy with dreadlocks.
"Nice dog, Harry!"
"Thanks, Lee," said Harry, grinning as Sirius wagged his tail frantically. He rubbed his godfather's head and smiled ruefully down at the dog. He wished that Sirius could be standing next to him, as a human, to wave him off to school. Just once, like a normal family. That'd be nice.
Sirius would give him a hug and mess up his hair, telling him to write and have a good year. He'd check to see if Harry had all his things and promise to see him at the hospital on Saturday, so he wouldn't have to meet Taylor by himself—
Harry was jolted out of his daydream by Sirius' head butting his hand and Moody coming through the barrier with their trunks. He was soon followed by Mr. Weasley, Lupin and the other teenagers.
"No trouble?" Moody growled.
"Nothing," said Lupin.
"I'll still be reporting Sturgis to Dumbledore," said Moody. "That's the second time he's not turned up in a week. Getting as unreliable as Mundungus."
And with that, everyone started saying their goodbyes, voices climbing over one another in the growing din of the platform. Harry looked up as Lupin clapped his shoulder. "You too, Harry. Be careful." Harry nodded.
"Yeah, keep your head down and your eyes peeled," Moody said, shaking Harry's hand. "And don't forget, all of you — careful what you put in writing. If in doubt, don't put it in a letter at all."
Good advice, Harry noted. He would have to be careful in all of his letters.
"It's been great meeting all of you," said Tonks, hugging Hermione and Ginny. "We'll see you soon, I expect."
The train whistled and Mrs. Weasley started grabbing teenagers to hug, distractedly ordering them to write and be good. Harry paused. In case the doctor didn't have good news on Saturday, this could be the last time he was going to see the lot of them. Swallowing thickly, Harry ducked down and hugged his godfather around the neck.
"I love you Sirius," he whispered into the man's ear. "Take care and please be safe." The dog butted Harry's cheek with his large head and woofed reassuringly.
"Onto the train, now, hurry," Mrs. Weasley's admonishing voice rang out.
With one last squeeze, Harry let go and followed his friends to the train.
"See you!" he called out of an open window as the train started to rumble forward. His friends poked their heads out of nearby windows and waved. The adults began to shrink as they moved away but Sirius loped after the train, his tail streaming behind him in excitement.
Harry, his eyes bright, waved at his godfather until the train turned the corner and Sirius was gone.
"He shouldn't have come with us," said Hermione with a worried sniff.
"Oh lighten up," Ron said, defending Sirius, "this is probably the only light he'll see for months, poor bloke."
Harry couldn't help but agree with Ron. Chances were that unless a miracle happened,
Sirius would be confined to the house for the foreseeable future. Fred and George's departure broke through his thoughts and Harry looked at his friends.
"Shall we go and find a compartment, then?" he asked.
Ron and Hermione exchanged embarrassed looks.
"We're—well—Ron and I are supposed to go into the prefect carriage," Hermione said awkwardly.
"Oh," Harry said. "Right. Fine." Ron was strictly avoiding Harry's gaze.
"I don't think we'll have to stay there all journey," his bushy-haired friend said quickly. "Our letters said we just get instructions from the Head Boy and Girl and then patrol the corridors from time to time."
"Fine," Harry said. "Well, I—I might see you later, then."
"Yeah, definitely," Ron said at last. He glanced nervously at Harry. "It's a pain having to go down there, I'd rather—but we have to—I mean, I'm not enjoying it, I'm not Percy."
Harry grinned. "I know you're not," he said reassuringly. "Go on. I'll see you later."
But as Ron and Hermione smiled at him and wandered off, Harry felt a little bereft. He'd never really gone to Hogwarts without Ron before and it didn't seem right to start the journey without him.
"Come on," said Ginny, breaking through, "if we get a move on we'll be able to save them places."
"Right," he agreed, following her. Their trunks clunked and thumped, hitting the rocking sides of the train as they walked down the corridor. Harry tried to ignore the whispers and looks that people gave him as he passed their compartments. He bit his tongue. They were probably talking about what a liar he was after everything the Daily Prophet had printed about him.
At the very end of the train, they met Neville Longbottom, who was desperately trying to lug his trunk and hold onto a squirming Trevor.
"'Lo Neville," Harry offered.
"Hey Harry," Neville said. "Hi Ginny... Everywhere's full... I can't find a seat..."
Ginny rolled her eyes and beckoned them into the last compartment to share with Luna Lovegood. Harry immediately realised why she had been sitting alone. Luna looked positively barmy with her wide protuberant eyes, the wand perched on her left ear and the bottle-caps strung about her neck. Not to mention the upside-down magazine in her hands.
In what had to be his most unique train journey, the group settled into decent, if very odd, conversation. And when Neville brought out his birthday present, a Mimbulus mimbletonia, to show off its 'defensive mechanism', Harry was able to sport a new look of hand-me-downs plus Stinksap just in time for the compartment door to slide open.
"Oh... hello, Harry," a soft voice said. "Um...bad time?"
The black-haired teen wiped his glasses off to see the pretty Cho Chang standing in the doorway.
"Hi Cho," he said with a rueful grin. "Er..." A large drop of Stinksap ran off his nose and fell into his slimy lap.
"Um..." she said. "Well...just thought I'd say hello... 'Bye then."
Before he could say anything, she shut the door and scurried off, her face rather pink. Harry shrugged and turned back to the group. He couldn't deny that he still found her pretty and that he felt embarrassed at being caught with Stinksap everywhere. However, after his absolutely mad summer and all the things that had changed since Cedric died, he just didn't feel the same flutter in his stomach.
"Right," said Ginny blithely. "Let's just clean this up then. Scourgify." Instantly, the mess vanished.
"Er, sorry, Harry," Neville said quietly.
"Don't worry about it," he returned with a small smile.
The term was turning out to be quite eventful, Harry noted. Ron and Hermione were prefects, which certainly gave a different start to the year. With Hagrid gone and the other students whispering and glaring at him, it had been his least favourite September 1st. Malfoy's threats–even if they were unfounded–, those creatures pulling the carriages that only he and Luna could see, and that Ministry witch's presence added to the chill that ran down his back.
Skipping the disappearing step in front of him, Harry wished that he could just skip unpleasantness that easily. He shuddered. He should have expected the pointing, whispering and staring after the events of last term but it had been easy to forget. Now the looks and rumours were grating at him.
Harry was just thankful that no one knew about the cancer. If it could be turned against him, Malfoy would certainly find a way to do it and the pitying looks besides would be more than he could stand.
Climbing another staircase, he remembered that he needed to find something to charm as a Portkey before the morning. He'd also need to lose his friends for two hours while he met with Taylor. Getting to the portrait in front of the Gryffindor Common Room, he resolved to figure it out. Then he paused, realising that he didn't know the password.
"Er..." he said quietly, staring up at the Fat Lady.
"No password, no entrance," she said, her nose in the air.
"Harry, I know it!" Neville huffed as he jogged down the corridor. "Guess what it is? I'm actually going to be able to remember it for once—" he waved his new plant in the air, "Mimbulus mimbletonia!"
"Correct," the Fat Lady said as her portrait swung open to admit them.
Harry and Neville clambered through and the former avoided the small crowds of people still loitering in the common room. He, instead, made straight for the stairs, intent on his very comfortable four-poster bed.
Dean and Seamus were already in the dorm, plastering photographs and posters on the wall near their beds. They stopped and looked at him when he entered, giving Harry the distinct feeling that they had been talking about him.
"Hi," he said, going to open his trunk.
"Hey, Harry," said Dean, putting on a pair of West Ham pyjamas. "Good holiday?"
"Not miserable," Harry muttered, not really wanting to get into it. "You?"
His dorm mates started talking about their summers, or rather, Seamus' in particular. His mum hadn't wanted him to come back to school.
"Why?"
"Well," Seamus said bracingly, "I suppose...because of you."
"What d'you mean?" Harry asked quickly, feeling like something was slowly suffocating him.
"Well," said Seamus, not meeting Harry's eyes, "she...er...well, it's not just you, it's Dumbledore too..."
"She believes the Daily Prophet?" Harry asked dully. "She thinks I'm a liar and Dumbledore's an old fool?"
"Yeah, something like that."
Harry felt sick inside and hurried to the loo, forgetting his wand in his haste, to get dressed for bed. He savagely ripped his robes off and stuffed them into a ball. Do they really believe I would make something like this up? he wondered.
Harry had worked himself into a good froth by the time he came out. Climbing into bed, he made to pull the hangings shut, when Seamus piped up. "Look...what did happen that night when...you know, when...with Cedric Diggory and all?"
Seamus and Dean's faces were frozen and expectant. The anger that hadn't had a chance to wane rose up in Harry's chest and lashed out.
"What are you asking me for?" he said harshly. "Just read the Daily Prophet like your mother, why don't you? That'll tell you all you need to know."
"Don't you have a go at my mother," Seamus snapped.
"I'll have a go at anyone who calls me a liar," said Harry.
"Don't talk to me like that!"
"I'll talk to you how I want," Harry growled, grabbing for his wand. "If you don't like it, go ask McGonagall to move you, stop your mummy worrying—"
"Leave my mother out of this, Potter!"
"What's going on?"
Ron stood in the doorway, eyes wide at the scene in front of him. Harry was pointing his wand at Seamus, who was standing with his fists raised.
"He's having a go at my mother!" Seamus yelled.
"What?" said Ron. "Harry wouldn't do that — we met your mother, we liked her..."
"That's before she started believing every word the stinking Daily Prophet writes about me!" Harry said at the top of his voice.
"Oh," said Ron, his eyes wide. "Oh...right."
"You know what?" Seamus said heatedly, glaring venomously at Harry. "He's right, I don't want to share a dormitory with him anymore, he's a madman."
"A madman, am I?" Harry shouted, getting in Seamus' face. That was it. That was the last straw. "Well fine then! You think I made it all up? That I murdered Cedric Diggory in cold blood?" Seamus' face paled at the dark look in the Boy-Who-Lived's eyes. Harry's voice dropped until it was icy and could barely be heard over Seamus' heavy breaths. "Then get out, because you aren't the friend I thought you were."
Harry let those words rest in the air for a moment, feeling Ron, Neville and Dean's intense gazes on his back. Too furious to deal with anyone else, he stormed to his bed and drew the curtains with a snap, sealing them with a wave of his wand.
The teenager curled on his bed, drawing the blankets over himself. Images whirled about chaotically in his mind. Anger dominated but eventually, Harry found all those feelings fading away to a muddled mass. He sighed. He just felt so angry, about everything. Cancer, Voldemort, the Daily Prophet...
Eventually, the uncomfortable press of his glasses against the side of his face stirred him to sit up. Removing them, Harry noticed his hand shaking. When did that happen? As he flopped down onto the soft mattress and tried to fall asleep, Harry had to ignore the burning behind his eyes and the lump lodged in his throat.
Harry woke early the next morning to the snores of his roommates. Ron was the loudest, his face half-crushed into the pillow and various arms and legs sprawled over the messy bedcovers. The dark-haired teenager moved quietly so he wouldn't disturb Dean, who was a very light sleeper, and dressed.
With his rucksack packed for the hospital, Harry tiptoed out of the dorm and down the stairs. The tower was quiet with everyone still asleep, and it made it easy for Harry to leave Gryffindor Tower unnoticed.
The upper floors were quiet as well but as he got nearer to the library, Harry spotted a few Ravenclaws and the odd Slytherin or Hufflepuff. He ignored the other students and their curious stares, and focused on the third floor corridor. He looked down both ends and waited in front of the empty classroom until a pair of Ravenclaws continued down to the second floor.
"Dissendium," he whispered, tapping the one-eyed statue's hump. The crevice opened and he squeezed through the opening, sliding down to the bottom. He stood up in the darkness. "Lumos!"
Light burst from his wand. He put his wand between his teeth and rummaged through his bag until he emerged with a tattered pair of Vernon's socks. Harry thought hard of the passageway he stood in and muttered, "Portus." The socks glowed blue for a second and then they were ready. He stuffed them back into his rucksack and hurried along the passageway, his lit wand bouncing in time to his movements.
It took nearly a half hour before he reached Honeyduke's cellar. Harry peeked around the hatch and the cellar's entrance. He crammed his hat on his head and donned a cloak to cover his Muggle clothing, and slunk into the shop. It was nearly empty, early as it was on a Saturday morning, but the shopkeeper was too busy stacking jars of Blood Pops and Cockroach Cluster to pay him much mind.
Harry breathed a little easier once he was in Hogsmeade proper and followed the main road out of the small town. When the cottages grew sparse enough, he called the Knight Bus and it arrived with a bang.
"Welcome to the Knight Bus—"
"Ninewells Drive, Dundee," Harry said, stuffing his handful of sickles into the conductor's hand.
He went and sat down on one of the plush armchairs. The bus was quiet and it only took two stops before they arrived in Dundee. Harry took off his cloak and exited. The Muggle street was busier than Hogsmeade or Hogwarts and Harry walked down it until he found Ninewells Hospital.
It was quite large, much bigger than the one in Staines, and Harry had to navigate various car parks before getting to the main entrance.
"Hello," he said to the receptionist. "I have an appointment with Dr. Taylor." He gave her the letter Taylor had given him before leaving.
"Right," she said. "Fourth floor and to the right."
Harry nodded and made his way upstairs, skirting mothers with crying babies and people in wheelchairs. The fourth floor ward was white, cold and smelled of disinfectant. Harry grimaced and found a seat in the waiting chairs, as directed by a nurse. He hoped that Taylor wouldn't make him sit out there too long.
Thankfully, he didn't.
"Ah, Harry! Good to see you!" Taylor said, walking to him. "How are you? I hope you found this place alright? Good! Let's move this to my office shall we?"
Harry followed his doctor to a small office and sat down in the hard brown chair. He swallowed. Taylor looked as impassive as usual, sitting across from the teenager, and Harry braced himself for bad news.
"I've looked over your results, Harry," Taylor started, fingering the papers in front of him, "and your bone marrow is free of cancer cells." The doctor smiled softly.
Harry's face broke out into a grin. "Really?" he said excitedly.
"Yes, really," Taylor repeated. "This means that we can move onto the second part of your treatment, consolidation therapy. Because your marrow is so clear, I think we can be safe with foregoing the combination chemotherapy and instead just stick to the antimetabolites for about four to five months. We'll then see if we need to continue with consolidation or move on to maintenance therapy."
"Does this mean that the cancer is gone for good?" Harry said, a small grin settling on his lips.
Taylor intertwined his fingers and looked sternly at Harry. "Harry, I don't want to lie to you," he said. "There is a chance that your leukaemia could crop up again. Chemotherapy isn't an exact science. But from what I have seen of your tests, I think you have a good chance of going into long-term remission; we caught this quite early."
Harry let the air he didn't know he was holding in, out.
"If you don't have any more questions," Taylor said, "why don't we get you started on your first treatment and you can schedule your weekly doses with the nurse."
Harry nodded and walked with his doctor to a side room with the familiar lounging chairs. He sighed. Here we go again.
Harry stumbled through the portrait hole, tripping on the first step, and recovered, to see his friends staring at him.
"Where've you been?" Ron exclaimed, jumping to his feet. "We've been looking for you for ages!"
Harry glanced at his watch, belatedly remembering that it was broken. "It's not even lunch," he said, raising an eyebrow.
Hermione rolled her eyes. "Just ignore him. He's just cross because he missed breakfast."
"Well you were the one who wanted to search for him first!"
"That's because I thought he was in the Great Hall!"
"We could have at least stayed there and had something to eat before you went running off—"
"There was only five minutes left anyway! Go to the kitchens if you're so starved!"
"Oi!" Harry shouted. Ron and Hermione turned to look at him. "That's better."
Hermione huffed. "Where were you, then? We checked the usual places and couldn't find you."
"I was in the library," Harry said, drawing amazed looks from both of his friends. "I wanted to look at this Defence book to see if it was worth buying by owl order."
Hermione's eyes brightened. "What's the title? I've found several lovely ones but Flourish and Blotts charges outrageously for shipping, and Whizz Hard and Obscurus don't owl order at all!"
"Er, right," Harry said slowly. "I was looking for 2001 Ways to Jinx Your Worst Enemy. Thought I could find something good to use on Malfoy."
Ron, who had been sullen up until that point, brightened. "Excellent! Did you find anything?" he asked.
"I didn't end up finding it," said Harry sheepishly. "I got distracted and lost track of time."
Hermione looked as if she wanted to ask something else, but Ron's stomach cut her off with an angry growl. "I'm starved," he said. "Do you think it's time for lunch?"
Harry had to laugh. "C'mon," he said, "if it isn't, let's go to the kitchens. I'm sure Dobby'll have something we can eat."
And so, the two boys, ignoring Hermione's protests and rants about S.P.E.W., clambered out of the common room. The flustered young witch followed them, her words hitting dull ears.
Just as they got to the staircase, Neville blustered up the stairs. "Harry!"
"'Lo, Neville," said Harry.
"Dumbledore wants you to meet him in his office," his friend said, holding out a piece of parchment. "I think it's important."
Harry took the note with some trepidation. After his last meeting with the Headmaster, he dreaded what was coming next. "Er, thanks Neville."
"Is it about—?" asked Hermione. She bit her bottom lip when Harry nodded.
"I think so. What else would he want to talk to me about?"
Ron winced. "Good luck mate."
"Yeah," Harry said. "Says he wants to meet me before lunch. I'll just meet you there, shall I? Save me a seat."
Hermione and Ron agreed and Harry stepped off the next landing, treading the path to Dumbledore's office.
The stone gargoyle had never been as imposing as it was when Harry knew he was legitimately in trouble with the Headmaster. "Ice Mice," he intoned and the guard jumped aside. He reluctantly stepped onto the revolving staircase and took a bracing breath.
He had a very good reason for leaving Grimmauld Place — Harry reminded himself — but Dumbledore wasn't to know the truth. "I had needed some air, so I went out and lost track of time," Harry intoned. I hope this works, he thought. Harry lifted the brass knocker and let it drop with a loud clang.
"Come in, Harry."
He opened the door and immediately saw Dumbledore staring intently at him from the headmaster's austere desk. The normally-twinkling blue eyes were serious over the half-moon glasses and his long fingers were steepled in a probing stance. Harry avoided the older man's gaze, slightly ashamed of what he was about to do.
"Please sit down, my boy," said Dumbledore. "Have you settled in well?"
"Yes, sir," said Harry.
"Good, good." The venerable man took a breath. "Now Harry, I have called you in to discuss your behaviour two weeks ago. I understand that you feel sorry for your rash actions but I believe I must impress upon you the seriousness of your situation."
Harry felt that it was largely self-explanatory, but he suppressed the urge to tell the headmaster that.
"Voldemort is weak and in hiding for the moment but he is cunning and will seize any opportunity that comes his way. Harry, he would not hesitate to attack or capture you if you give him that opportunity. When you are under protection, Voldemort is deterred. Harry, I do not want you to waste your life on these foolish impulses."
Harry almost scoffed at the implication that he was being anything but responsible. He held his tongue and felt it scrape against his teeth in frustration.
"Please promise me, Harry," said Dumbledore, "that you will abide by the rules and not take foolish risks."
The teenager nodded, avoiding his headmaster's gaze. "I promise," he said.
"Thank you, my boy," Dumbledore said, sinking back into his chair. "Well, I am sure that you are hungry and want to join your friends at lunch."
Harry stood and made his way to the door.
"And, Harry?"
"Yes, sir?"
Dumbledore's probing eyes met his for a split second before they skittered away. Harry furrowed his brow.
"—Ah, never mind. Please ignore an old man's wanderings. Have a good day, my boy."
"Right. You too, sir," Harry said, walking out the door. As he went down the spiral staircase and out the gargoyle, a thought cropped up. Why wouldn't Dumbledore look him in the eye?
A/N: Yes! I'm sorry! I know it's been a long time and that this is too short for a delay of four months! But I figured I might as well put these few pages out for those of you who have been so dedicated to my fic. I wanted to polish this bit more but I finally had to say enough is enough and end the procrastination. Enjoy and please let me know what you think! I'll be starting on Chapter 10 as soon as I can and hopefully will have it up sooner rather than later. Thanks for reading, reviewing, faving and alerting! I appreciate all the support.