AUTHOR'S NOTES: One quick thing I feel I should explain. The word 'hypersalivating' may or may not be a technical term, but it's what usually happens to me before I end up puking. Basically, I'm talking about seriously heavy saliva levels

Chapter 2

Hermione Granger had been worrying about her best friend, Harry Potter, for the past few months. As a child she had read her parents' medical journals enough to spot when someone was hiding some serious physical ailment. At first, Harry just seemed tired—not surprising given his involvement in the Triwizard Tournament—but then other things kept popping up like the slight limp Harry had as Hermione watched him head out of the train station with the Dursleys at the end of the school year. Or how Harry seemed to be losing weight, even with the luxury of Hogwarts feasts.

When she heard Harry was in St. Mungo's Hospital, Hermione felt certain that whatever was wrong with Harry had finally shown itself. But she was still unprepared for when she finally Harry a few weeks before his birthday

xxxxxxxxx

Ron, Hermione, and Ginny had spent the past few hours cleaning out the drawing room of #12 Grimmauld Place when the door slowly creaked open. Turning to see who had arrived, they were surprised and delighted to see Harry standing there and, at first, didn't even notice how thin and pale Harry looked.

"Harry, what happened?" Hermione asked, after a moment as she took in that Harry was leaning on crutches and looked like Hell.

"Uncle Vernon was driving drunk and crashed the car," Harry said, heading to a chair against the nearest wall. He sat down slowly and watched as Ron, Hermione, and Ginny stood next to him, eager to hear what had happened. Not really wanting to share in all the horrific details, Harry added, simply, "He's in a coma… Aunt Petunia's filing for divorce because Dudley got hurt in the crash."

Ginny sat on the arm of Harry's chair and looked at him. "What about you, Harry?" she asked, looking concerned as she studied Harry up close.

Harry sighed and pulled up the right leg of his jeans, revealing the plastic prosthetic.

"Oh, Harry," Hermione said, sadly, looking at her best friend. "I'm so sorry. How much of it did they take?"

"About halfway up my thigh," Harry replied as he lowered his pant leg.

"They chopped your leg off?" Ron said, shocked.

"It was the muggle doctors," Harry explained, trying to ignore Ron's tone. "Even Dumbledore agreed that amputation was the best choice."

"Yeah, but how are you going to play Quidditch?" Ron asked.

"Ron, shut up!" Ginny snapped, glaring at her brother. "You're so insensitive!"

But Harry had gotten up and was now heading out of the room and up the stairs to the bedroom Mrs. Weasley had told him he would be staying in. Sitting down on the bed nearest the window, Harry tried to shrug off the doubts that filled his mind. But he couldn't deny that Ron had brought up a valid point. Harry most likely would have to give up playing Quidditch this year—not because of the loss of his leg, but due to the chemotherapy treatments.

"Potter." Hearing his name, Harry looked up as Alastor 'Mad-Eye' Moody clomped into the room and sat on the other bed in the room. "Dumbledore told me about what happened."

"Everything?" Harry asked, curiously. When Moody nodded, Harry tried to shrug it off. "It's…" But he couldn't even think the words: "It's okay. I'm fine." Because in truth, Harry far from okay and he felt anything but fine.

"It's awful, isn't it?" Moody said, a note of understanding in his voice.

"Yeah, it is," Harry said, nodding. "And Ron was just…"

"It's hard to understand unless it's happened to you," Moody said, gruffly. Standing up, he patted Harry on the shoulder. "You'll be just fine, Potter. Just keep at it."

"Thanks," Harry said, feeling a little better.

"Anytime, Potter," Moody replied, with what might have been a smile. Heading out of the room, Moody saw Hermione Granger coming up the stairs and jerked his thumb over his shoulder. "Potter's in there. Think he could use a friend to talk to, Granger."

Hermione nodded as she entered the bedroom just as Harry was rubbing a spot on his chest. "Harry, what's going on?" She asked as she closed the door and sat on the other bed, facing Harry. "I know it's not just your leg. What else is going on?"

Harry let out a long sigh and after a while, he pulled down the neck of his t-shirt, exposing the central line. When he readjusted his shirt, Harry expected Hermione to say something but she just sat there, dumbfounded. "Hermione, it's…"

"It's what?" Hermione said, finally finding her voice. "Not as bad as it looks?" Her look of astonishment gave way realization and in a lower tone, she said, "You didn't lose your leg just because of the crash, did you?"

Harry shook his head and after another sigh, he figured Hermione deserved to know the whole story. "I didn't know about the cancer until after the doctors amputated my leg," he explained. "The healers at St. Mungo's couldn't regrow my leg so they ran some tests."

"Oh, Harry," Hermione whispered as she stood and moved over to Harry's bed, giving him a hug. As Harry hugged her back, thankful for the comfort from his best friend.

Petunia Dursley understood why Harry didn't want to come back to Privet Drive but she was hurt that Harry wasn't even giving her a chance to make up for the past 14 years.

But maybe that was because there really was no way to make up for all Harry had been through, all the times she'd turned a blind eye to Vernon's abuse… her son's violence… For the longest time, Petunia looked the other way when Vernon treated Harry roughly. After all, she had only let Harry stay in the house because of the blood protection Dumbledore had enacted.

And Dudley… Looking back on it now, Petunia realized that her own son was another case in which she should have been paying more attention. At St. Mungo's, one of the healers had given Dudley something which had helped him drop the bulk of his excess weight and now Dudley was working on building muscle as a local athletic center. But Petunia should never have allowed her son to gain so much weight. And she should have listened when the teachers at school called Dudley a bully. Hopefully, now that both of them were away from Vernon, Petunia could try to instill in her son a kinder nature.

And there had to be away to get Harry to open up to her. Something to show him that although they'd had their differenced, Petunia wanted to help Harry through his recent tribulations.

Heading up to the attic of #4 Privet Drive, Petunia rummaged around for ages until she finally unearthed two old photo albums. After giving them a very thorough cleaning to remove the collected dust and grime, she wrapped them up and set to writing Harry a letter.

'Dear Harry,

I know you probably don't want to hear from me but I'm going to keep writing you anyway. What Vernon and I did to you all those years in inexcusable. I wish we could start over, but all I can do is ask you to give me a chance.

With this letter I am including Lily's pictures from before Hogwarts.

Please write back,

Petunia Evans

The albums had arrived just as Harry returned to #12 Grimmauld Place from his first chemotherapy treatment. After spending more than half an hour in the bathroom throwing up what felt like everything he'd eaten in the past week, Harry rinsed his mouth out and headed into his bedroom to find Hedwig perched on the desk in the corner and the wrapped package on his bed.

After lying down on his bed, Harry stared at the albums his aunt had sent for a moment and finally opened them, looking at the photos inside. There were pictures of Lily as a baby… when she lost her first tooth… her first day of primary school.

In some of the earlier pictures, Lily and Petunia actually seemed to be friendly as they played together. But as the girls aged, Harry could see that there were fewer pictures of the sisters together and more of them separately.

Why had Petunia waited until now to start embracing Harry as her nephew, Harry wondered as he closed the albums and lay back on his bed, staring up at the ceiling—something he'd been doing a lot lately. It was too late for Petunia to try and be his family now. Still… she was the last connection Harry had to his mother. And he wasn't ready to cut that bond just yet.

Turning his head to look at Petunia's letter which was lying on the bedside table, Harry couldn't help but wonder why Petunia had used her maiden name. Because she wanted Harry to believe her words? Or because she had wanted to cut herself off from Uncle Vernon?

"Mind if I come in, Harry?"

Sitting up, Harry saw Mrs. Weasley standing in the doorway. "Mrs. Weasley. Did you need help with something?"

"That's alright, Harry, dear," Mrs. Weasley said, waving a hand dismissively. "You're recovering. No, I wanted to talk to you about your aunt."

Harry's face clouded over. "Oh," he said, and looked away.

"Harry, your aunt sent me a letter," Mrs. Weasley said, sitting at the foot of Harry's bed "She wants to be here for your birthday. I won't invite her if you don't want me to," she added, watching Harry's face. "But I think it would be a good chance for the two of you to start over."

"Whatever," Harry said, lying back down. "I don't care. Go ahead."

Mrs. Weasley stood and left the room without another word. She wanted Harry to be back to his old self. But it seemed that the loss of his leg, not to mention the complication of his illness, had sapped Harry of most emotion. Not that she didn't understand in a way. Cancer was a scary diagnosis for anyone, but to find out while dealing with a permanent injury… But Molly wanted to help Harry. If only there was some way to cheer him up…

"Is Harry still in his room, Molly?" asked Sirius Black as he came up the stairs, looking at the closed bedroom door.

Mrs. Weasley nodded. She remembered shortly before Harry's arrival as Dumbledore explained Harry's situation to Sirius. Harry's godfather hadn't said much and Molly could tell that he was trying to think of how to talk to his godson about it. But sensing that right now Harry needed comfort from the closest thing he had to a father, Molly said, "He's not feeling very social right now, poor dear… But you're welcome to try and cheer him up, Sirius. Goodness knows if you can't get through to the boy I doubt anyone can."

Sirius nodded and went to Harry's room, hesitating a moment before opening the door to see his godson lying on his bed. "Sorry I haven't been to see you much, Harry," Sirius said, walking into the room and sitting at the foot of Harry's bed.

"'S fine," Harry muttered. "Who wants to be around a cancer-ridden cripple anyway?"

"It's not just that," Sirius said, staring hard at his godson. After a while, he sighed. "Harry, you're all I have left of James and Lily. Right now, you're all I care about. And I'm scared to death that I'm going to lose you, too. I'm just trying to deal with all this, Prongslet, alright?" When Harry gave him the slightest nod, Sirius added, "By the way, Molly told me about the letter from your aunt."

"After all this time she decides she wants to be my family?" Harry said, bitterly, sitting up a bit. "What about when I was little and I needed her to be there for me? All those times I wanted her approval… her love? She can't just suddenly demand to be a part of my life."

"You don't think it could have been because of the accident and the fact that you're sick?" Sirius asked, resting a hand on Harry's artificial leg. "If you're gone, Petunia loses her last connection to Lily. You're the one reminder Petunia sees every day. The one she can't ignore, no matter how much she may want to."

Harry scoffed. "She sure has tried to pretend I don't exist over the years."

"Petunia can pretend," Sirius said, kindly. "But she can't deny that you do exist. She opened her home to you. Unwillingly, maybe… but she still let you in. Maybe that's all she could do because of your uncle."

Harry gave a shrug. "Maybe."

Sirius stood and smiled down at Harry. "Come on. Your friends want to see you."

Harry didn't really want to see the others right now. Truthfully, he didn't want to see anyone right now. There was so much with his life right now that his friends just couldn't understand. But after a while, he slowly sat up and once he was standing, Harry let Sirius help him out into the hallway and slowly down the stairs finally coming to the drawing room where Fred, George, Ron, and Ginny Weasley were working on cleaning out a glass fronted cabinet with Mrs. Weasley and Ginny.

They all turned when they heard Harry enter the room. Ginny gave him a warm smile which he returned. Looking at his friends, Harry asked, "Need a hand, Mrs. Weasley?"

Molly looked like she was about to say no, but seeing the miniscule shake of the head from Sirius as he stood behind Harry, she nodded and said, brightly, "We're just cleaning this cabinet out, Harry. Just start chucking into the sacks on the floor."

Harry nodded and limped over to the cabinet and started cleaning with the others. It actually felt good to be doing something. It took his mind off the other issues.

Early on the morning of Harry's 15th birthday, Petunia Dursley arrived at Grimmauld Place with three large shopping bags. Mrs. Weasley led Harry's aunt down to the kitchen and helped her unload Harry's gifts and an abundance of groceries. "I… I wasn't sure what Harry liked as far as meals," Petunia admitted as she unloaded eggs, bacon, sausages, bread, fresh fruit, lunch meats, cheese, packages of chips and pastas and a myriad of other items. "Although I'm not sure how much of an appetite he has these days."

Molly smiled kindly at Petunia. "I've been trying to get Harry to eat a bit more at meals, but he's just not really hungry these days, as you can imagine. Lately for breakfast Harry just likes some toast and juice. If Harry's having a chemo treatment he usually just has some applesauce for lunch. I try to get Harry to eat a good dinner, but sometimes he'll just take half a sandwich up to his room."

Petunia nodded as she started putting the groceries away, leaving out what she needed for her breakfast casserole. Once it was assembled and in the oven, Petunia turned to Molly and after a while—feeling somewhat ashamed for doing it—she said, "Tell me about Harry. What… What's he like?"

Molly sat down at the table, hiding the fact that she was pleased that Petunia was taking an interest in her nephew at last. "Harry's a very quiet boy. He doesn't buy into the whole 'Boy Who Lived' business. He likes a simple, quiet life."

Petunia sat down as well, still facing Molly Weasley. "What else?"

Molly smiled. Harry was as good as her own son and she was happy that Petunia was finally starting to see what she saw: a wonderful boy with endless potential. "I don't know if you know this, but Harry's also very stubborn. And determined."

"Lily was the same way," Petunia said, quietly, thinking back. "Once she set her mind to something it would take forever to get her to let go."

"Harry's also very selfless," Molly added. "He's usually more concerned about the safety of whomever he's with rather than his own. His second year he went after my daughter Ginny and saved her life risking his own. He saved my youngest son, Ron, from dementors year before last."

As Petunia sat lost in thought, she saw images of Harry at the Weasleys' home, free and happy… "I wish Dumbledore had sent Harry to you when he was a baby," Petunia admitted. "Then he could have had the childhood he was meant to.

"Dumbledore knew what he was doing," Molly said, to Petunia's amazement. "Sometimes growing up in adversity is what makes us stronger. My family may not have much, but what we lack in money we make up for in family bonds."

"That's why I divorced Vernon," Petunia admitted. "I love my son more than anything in the world. And Vernon almost took that away from me. He almost took Harry as well."

There was the sound of someone clearing their throat and Molly and Petunia looked up to see Harry standing in the doorway. He wasn't wearing the prosthetic and had therefore rolled up the empty leg of his jeans. Leaning on the crutches the healers had given him while he adjusted to the artificial leg he looked helpless and worn, like a refugee from a terrible war. His hair, usually messy and sticking up in back, looked thin. Petunia wondered if the cancer treatments were already causing Harry to lose his hair.

Molly stood up and gestured for Harry to have a seat at the table. "How are you feeling this morning, dear?"

Harry shrugged as he sat down and looked at Mrs. Weasley. "Fine, I guess. The, uh… prosthetic was feeling a little weird and I… I-I thought I'd leave it off just for today."

"No problem, Harry, dear," Molly said, bustling around the kitchen and making tea and using her wand to make a huge bag of oranges juice themselves into a large pitcher.

"Happy birthday, Harry," Petunia said, smiling lightly.

"Thanks, Aunt Petunia," Harry said, a corner of his mouth twitching in what could have been a smile.

"I, uh… brought a few presents," Petunia said, trying to keep any uncomfortable silences from settling on the room.

"Really?" Harry said, noticing the small pile of packages at one end of the table. For some reason, it surprised him that his aunt would show that much consideration.

Petunia got up and slid the pile towards Harry who pulled a small package off of the top. "Dudley actually sent that one along for you."

Harry's brow furrowed in puzzlement, but he opened the package and laughed. Inside was a small scrap of paper which read: 'This entitles the holder to one free shot at the sender.'

Petunia read over Harry's shoulder and frowned. "He said you'd get a 'kick' out of it," Petunia said, disapprovingly. "I didn't think he'd mean literally."

"I doubt I'll use it," Harry said, but he stuffed the note into his pocket anyway.

The rest of the gifts included new muggle clothes, a new waterproof watch, and a few other items.

After about an hour, the smells of the casserole wafted out of the kitchen and soon Hermione, Ron, Ginny, Fred, George, Sirius, and Tonks were seated at the table digging into breakfast as Molly and Petunia prepared toast, coffee, tea, and orange juice.

Harry was content to just nibble one or two pieces of toast but Petunia gave him just a tiny bit of the breakfast casserole she'd prepared. It wasn't that Harry wasn't hungry—actually, this morning he felt ravenous—but lately if he ate too much in the morning, he usually ended up in the bathroom throwing up shortly thereafter. But the casserole did smell good and after a moment Harry took a small bite, surprised when he didn't feel his stomach revolting at the extra food.

"Harry, I was wondering about something," Ron said around a mouthful of eggs and sausage. When Harry looked up, Ron asked, "Any idea who you want to take over as seeker this year?"

The cheery atmosphere vanished so rapidly that there might as well have been a dementor outside the kitchen.

Ginny and Hermione both kicked Ron hard under the table and Fred and George glared at their younger brother.

Harry didn't reply, but he turned to Mrs. Weasley and said, "I'm pretty full. Do you mind if I…?"

Mrs. Weasley nodded and watched Harry hobble out of the kitchen. Once he was out of earshot, she turned her most intimidating gaze on Ron. "Ronald Weasley, I can't believe you'd even THINK to ask the poor boy that! First Harry is in a horrible accident and then you tactlessly ask who's replacing him in Quidditch!"

"Besides," Hermione said, glaring at Ron as well. "Who says that Harry has to quit at all?"

"Hermione's right," Ginny said, kicking Ron again for good measure. "Just because Harry lost his leg doesn't mean he can't still play."

"Ginny, have you ever heard of a one-legged Quidditch player?" Ron said, insistently. After a while, he sighed. "Look, we're all thinking it. I just said it out loud."

"I can't believe you call yourself Harry's friend, Ron," Hermione said, angrily, as she stood up. "You should be encouraging Harry, not making him feel worse." She stormed out of the kitchen, slamming the door behind her.

Feeling that he needed to explain himself, Ron looked at the others. "Look, if it were just the fact that Harry lost his leg it would be one thing," he said. "But what about Harry's chemotherapy treatments?"

Molly started to say something but she stopped as she realized that Ron had a point. Even Ginny and the twins looked like they were slightly in agreement.

Sensing that Ron needed someone in his corner, Tonks nodded, sadly. "You're right, Ron." Looking at the others, she added, "Look, we all knew things would be different with Harry because of the cancer."

"Fine," Ginny said with a sigh. Shooting her brother a look, she added, "I still say it was an insensitive thing to do, though."

xx

Up in his bedroom, Harry had resumed his usual position of lying on his bed, staring at the ceiling. He hated all of this: he hated that he lost his leg, he hated having cancer, he hated that the disease was costing him the one thing that might have actually made him happy at Hogwarts this year.

Hearing the door creak open, Harry looked up preparing to tell Ron off. Instead, he saw Hermione looking hesitant.

"Mind if I come in, Harry?" She asked, her tone indicating that she'd leave if Harry didn't want to be disturbed.

"Sure," Harry replied, flatly, as he sat up. "I thought you were Ron."

"It's just me," Hermione replied as she closed the door and sat down on the other bed, giving her best friend a shy smile. "Harry, I… I want to ask you something." When Harry gave her a curious look, Hermione felt herself blush. "I was wondering… That is I…"

Catching Hermione's glance at what was left of his leg, Harry understood what she was afraid to ask. Checking to make sure the door was closed, Harry pulled his jeans off so he sat in his boxer shorts.

Hermione tried not to react at seeing what was left of Harry's leg, but she couldn't stop the small gasp that escaped her. And somehow, thinking of the IV port Harry had shown her before and now seeing the stump that was all that was left of Harry's leg made his condition seem startlingly real. "Harry, I'm so sorry. I wish I could do something… anything to help you with all this."

Harry pulled his jeans back on. "There's nothing you can do. The healers couldn't grow my leg back because of the osteosarcoma. And I have another two months of chemotherapy treatments." When he reached up to rub a knot in his neck, he felt some of his hair come away in his hand. After a moment, he felt himself hypersalivating and his stomach gave a violent lurch.

Hermione could tell that Harry was about to be sick and she grabbed the small trash can nearby and handed it to Harry just as he threw up. Sitting next to him, Hermione put an arm around Harry's shoulders until he was done vomiting. Once Harry was done, she pulled out her wand to vanish the contents of the trashcan before getting him a cup of water from the bathroom to wash his mouth out.

As Harry lay back down on the bed, he looked over at Hermione and said, "Hermione, I think I'm going to take a nap. Do you mind… uh…?"

Hermione nodded and got up to leave. Before she left, she turned to Harry and said, "I'm here for you, Harry. We all are. You're not alone in this."

Despite the best efforts of everyone in Grimmauld Place—including Fred and George—Harry continued to be withdrawn and moody, spending most of his time—when he wasn't at the hospital for his treatments—either in his room staring at the ceiling or reading his new school books.

A few days before the start of term, Molly and Arthur Weasley were talking with Dumbledore about Harry's return to Hogwarts. "I don't like the idea of Harry going back when he's so moody," Molly said. "Hermione and Ginny are trying to help but Ron… I know he means well, but he's not helping Harry."

"We just want to make sure that when Harry goes back he's not bombarded with queries about what happened both last term and over the summer," Arthur said, simply. "Harry should be with his friends, but he should have some private place he can go."

"I already have the solution," Dumbledore replied. "I have already made arrangements for Harry to have his own private suite. Yet it would be connected to the Gryffindor common room if Harry desired company. I've also spoken with healers from St. Mungo's who will be able to ensure that Harry receives all of the chemotherapy treatments."

"Thank you, Dumbledore," Molly said, brightly. "I've been worrying my head off about Harry since he got hurt and his illness has only made things harder for him."

"I assure you, Molly, I will take extra care to keep Harry out of harm's way this year," Dumbledore said, solemnly.

Arriving early at Platform 9 ¾ the morning of September 1st, Harry limped as far back on the train as he could go, taking an empty compartment for himself while Fred, George, and Ginny went to find their friends, and Ron and Hermione went to sit in the prefects' compartment.

Things hadn't been much better the past month and Harry's chemo treatments had been taking a fierce toll on him. He was losing more of his hair and there were times when the mere smell of food sent him hurrying for the bathroom. Lost in his own thoughts, Harry wasn't even aware that anyone had come to his compartment until he heard the door close and a dreamy voice said, "Do you mind if I join you?"

Looking up, Harry saw a teenage girl with dirty blonde hair pulled back in a braid and large eyes staring at him. "Uh… yeah, sure," Harry said, gesturing to the seat across from him.

"You're Harry Potter, aren't you?" The girl said as she sat down, happily. "I read that you were in a car accident this summer," she added, glancing at the cane Harry had brought with him. "Didn't the muggle doctors amputate your leg?"

Harry looked out the window, not feeling up to talking. Talk about losing his leg would probably lead to conversation of how sick he looked and he didn't feel up to it at the moment.

"Oh," the girl said, understandingly. "It's a sensitive issue, isn't it?"

"Yeah," Harry said, vacantly. After a moment, though, curiosity got the better of him. "Um… who are you?"

"Luna Lovegood," the girl replied, smiling.

"You're not in Gryffindor, are you?" Harry asked, not remembering seeing her in Gryffindor Tower.

Luna shook her head. "Ravenclaw. I'm a 4th year with Ginny Weasley." Harry gave Luna a smile and saw out the window that more and more people were boarding the train. "Are you eager to play Quidditch again this year?" Luna asked, watching Harry closely. Harry looked at her, slightly surprised. "Oh," Luna said, looking embarrassed. "I'm sorry."

"No, it's okay," Harry said, quickly. Seeing that there was no way around the subject now, he said, "I'm… I'm not playing this year."

"Why not?" Luna wanted to know. "You lost your leg, not your ability to fly."

"It's not that," Harry replied, trying to explain. "Well, it's not just because of my leg." Looking at Luna, he was a little surprised at her expression, as if she was just calmly waiting for Harry to finish talking. "For at least the next month and a half, I'm going to be receiving chemotherapy treatments."

Luna gave Harry a serene smile of understanding. She knew Harry was sick the moment she saw him and while she didn't know much about non-magical diseases, she did have a cousin who survived cancer and Luna remembered how hard it was on her cousin. "It must be terrible for you," Luna mused. When she sensed that Harry believed that she was talking about his disease, she went on. "Ginny told me how much you love playing Quidditch. I can't imagine how hard it must be to give up something you love."

There was something about Luna that made Harry think that she understood him in a way that even Hermione was unable to. As the Hogwarts Express pulled out of the station Harry said, "Sometimes I don't know what's worse. Waiting for Voldemort to do me in… or waiting for the cancer to do the job."

"What if you don't die?" Luna asked, lightly. "What if you defeat You-Know-Who and the cancer?"

Harry didn't say anything, but he thought about Luna's question. He really hadn't thought about his future ever since his diagnosis. And the more he thought about it, the more Harry had to admit that Luna had brought up an excellent question. "I dunno. Ever since I found out I was sick, I just stopped thinking about what might happen if I make it through this." After a moment, he gave Luna a smile. "You're good at the advice thing."

Luna smiled back at Harry as she pulled a magazine out of her bag, turning it upside down. "Not many people listen to me, really" Luna said, quietly. "They think I'm a bit strange, you know. People even call me 'Loony' Lovegood."

Harry looked surprised at that. "There's nothing wrong with being a little different," he said, fondly. Catching a glimpse of his reflection in the window, he added, "I should know." It was slightly odd how easy he found talking to Luna and he said so.

"Thank you, Harry," Luna said, smiling. "I'm glad you like talking to me."

"Well, you seem nice and friendly," Harry said, blushing slightly. "Right now I could use another friend in my corner."

"I'd be delighted to be your friend, Harry Potter," Luna said, giving Harry a warm smile.

When the Hogwarts Express finally pulled into Hogsmeade Station, night had fallen and the lanterns were lit at the station.

Harry limped off the train, leaning on the cane he'd brought with him for support. He was feeling tired despite a long nap on the train and wanted nothing more that to get to Hogwarts and go up to Gryffindor Tower and get into bed. After a moment, he felt someone take his arm and turning to look, he saw Luna who seemed to have a spring in her step. Walking down the platform, Luna and Harry finally joined up with Hermione, Ron, Ginny, Fred, and George and they started walking to the open carriages which would take them up to Hogwarts.

To Harry's amazement, the carriages—which up until now had pulled themselves—were now pulled by strange, black, skeletal winged horses. "They're called thestrals," Luna said, walking up to one and pulling a dead mouse out of the pocket of her robes. One of the thestrals bent down its head and took the treat from Luna's hand as gently as a horse eating a sugar cube. "They can only be seen by someone who has seen death."

Harry thought for a moment about Cedric Diggory lying on the ground in the cemetery, dead. Shaking his head as he tried not to think about that horrible night, Harry looked up at the thestral and found as scary as they were, there was also something hauntingly beautiful about them.

"What happen to you, Potter?" a snide voice called and Harry winced as Draco Malfoy came up followed by Crabbe and Goyle.

"Shove off, Malfoy," Harry said, turning to get up in the carriage with the others. He truly didn't feel like getting into it with Malfoy right now, but before Harry could get into the carriage, Malfoy darted in front of him and stuck out a foot, catching Harry's prosthetic and making him fall flat on his face.

Malfoy and his cronies laughed as Harry lay on the ground, trying to catch his breath. Goyle kicked Harry in the left shin to try and keep him down but when Harry didn't react, Malfoy nudged Harry's leg with his own foot. "A prosthetic?" Malfoy said, delighted. "You lost your leg? Brilliant! They might as well just give me the Quidditch cup now! Harry Potter is a bloody cripple!" Malfoy added, loudly, as he, Crabbe, and Goyle headed for their own carriage. "This is too rich!"

Hermione and Ron helped Harry to his feet and once in the carriage, Hermione said, "You should see Madame Pomfrey, Harry."

Harry shook his head, firmly. "I'm seeing her tomorrow, Hermione. It can wait. I just want to get some sleep."

"You've got a treatment tomorrow?" Ron asked, stunned by the news. "What about classes?"

"I'll make a copy of my notes for you, Harry," Hermione promised.

Ron stiffened a bit and frowned at that. "Why don't you ever offer to make me a copy of your notes?" he asked.

"Fine," Hermione replied, coolly. "When you have cancer and miss classes for chemotherapy treatments, you can have a copy of my notes."

Ron opened his mouth to retort but seeing how bad Harry looked he just muttered under his breath, "Never mind."