AUTHOR'S NOTES: As the old saying goes, Harry will get worse before he gets better. Next chapter I'll try to have things more upbeat.

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Chapter 15

Not even 5 minutes after Harry lost consciousness, James got to the hospital wing and when he went to his son's bed he saw Dr. Laurence coming out of Pomfrey's office. "What happened?" James asked, going to Lily who looked like she was going to fall apart at any moment.

"Harry started throwing up," Lily said, her voice tense. "He was so hot to the touch… then he passed out."

"Is that normal?" James asked Laurence.

"Unfortunately, it is," Laurence replied, injecting something into Harry's IV. "The fever is Harry's body fighting against the cancer. Hopefully this will help."

Lily nodded, holding onto James like a life raft. "How long until Harry wakes up?" she asked, nervously.

"I can't say," Laurence replied, apologetically. "Listen… Harry having a fever this early means that his body is fighting hard. I'd be more concerned if it took longer."

Lily nodded and sat on the edge of Harry's bed, holding her son's hand and trying not to cry as she saw the sweat beading on his forehead.

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Camille couldn't sleep that night and around 3 in the morning, she pulled on her robes and slippers and headed out of Gryffindor Tower and down to the hospital wing where she saw James and Lily still wide awake by Harry's bed. "Aunt Lily?" Lily looked up as Camille came over and sat on one of the other beds. "How's Harry?"

Lily shook her head and after a moment, she replied, 'Harry still hasn't woken up. But his fever hasn't gotten worse, so…'

'He is going to be okay, right?' Camille asked, looking at Harry.

"I hope so, Cam," Lily said aloud, brushing Harry's sweat-soaked bangs out of his face. When Harry stirred a bit, Lily nudged James. "Harry? Harry, can you hear me? It's Mum."

Camille jumped off of her bed and ran to Harry's bed watching as his eyes opened a bit.

"Harry…?" James said, relieved. "Come on, Prongslet…"

Camille felt her joy at Harry waking up fade when he seemed to drift off again. Looking at Lily she said, 'He'll be okay, right? Eventually?' When Lily didn't reply, Camille looked at Harry. 'Please be okay, Harry,' Camille pleaded to what ever higher power was listening.

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Harry was in and out of consciousness for the next two days, finally coming out of it when the fever broke late Saturday night. Blinking, Harry saw the blurry forms of Camille, his parents, Mrs. Weasley, Sirius, and Madame Pomfrey.

"Harry..?" Lily said, looking relieved. "Are you with us…?"

'Mum…' Harry mouthed, his mouth and throat dry.

"Thank God," Lily replied, putting a small ice cube in her son's mouth. "Better?"

Harry nodded, weakly. 'What… time… is it…?'

"Almost midnight," Camille replied, smiling. "And it's Saturday so you don't have to worry about classes tomorrow."

Harry smiled as Madame Pomfrey helped him into a sitting position. Raising his right hand, he asked, 'What happened?'

"You started throwing up," Lily explained. "You had a really bad fever…" After a moment, she admitted, "I wasn't sure… if you were going to stay with us…" Hugging her son, she said, "I'm just glad you're okay."

Leaning back against his pillows, Harry felt tired. And he was relieved when Madame Pomfrey shooed everyone away. Closing his eyes, he was soon absorbed in sleep.

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In a normal year, Harry would have been delighted at the first day of the Christmas holidays. But this year, the end of the term was also the day of his 5th chemo treatment. As usual, his father and Camille were sitting with him, although Camille was working on helping Harry with his missed homework assignments—in other words, doing his homework so that Harry only had to write his name and hand everything in.

Looking at the snow falling outside, Harry asked, 'Did Ron leave for the holidays?'

Camille shook her head. 'The Weasleys and Hermione are staying here. Mrs. Weasley said she'll try to make it like we were staying at the Burrow, but…'

'But what?' Harry asked, looking from Camille to his father.

"Christmas day… is on a Monday," James replied. "I've talked to Pomfrey and Dr. Laurence and they're adamant about sticking to your chemo regimen."

'So I'm going to be in here for Christmas,' Harry signed, morosely.

"I'm afraid so," James replied. "I tried, Harry, but this early on, we can't mess with your treatment schedule."

'This just keeps getting better and better, doesn't it?' Harry said, looking out the window.

'It'll get better, Harry,' Camille said, trying to be optimistic. 'I know it doesn't seem like it now but once this is over, everything will be fine. You'll see.'

Harry nodded, trying to believe what Camille was saying, but at the same time, he knew she was just trying to make him feel better. Rubbing the back of his neck, Harry felt his heart clench when he felt some of his hair come away in his hand. Seeing Camille's questioning look, Harry held his hand up, the tuft of black hair lying across his palm.

Camille let out a soft moan. "Harry…" Hugging him, she said, "It's just hair…"

But as Harry looked at his father, he could swear he was tears in James Potter's eyes.

--

When Lily came after lunch so James could get a rest, she saw the solemn expressions of James, Camille, and Harry's faces. "What's wrong?" Lily asked, trying not to think of what all else could have gone wrong. Sitting next to Harry on his bed. "Harry?" Brushing Harry's hair out of his face, Lily sighed when some of Harry's hair came away. "Honey… It doesn't matter… You knew this was likely to happen. Harry…" Waiting until Harry looked at her, she said, "I love you, Harry. I know you hate being sick… and I know you hate the chemo… But the last thing I want is for you to die. You've got to be strong, alright?"

'I don't want to be strong,' Harry replied. 'I want this to be over. I want to be healthy again! I want to not have this tube in my throat!'

"I know you do, honey," Lily murmured. "But we can't change things."

'It's not fair,' Harry added, glumly.

"No…" Lily admitted. "No, it's not."

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Under strict orders from Madame Pomfrey to rest, Harry decided to use the days leading up to Christmas to finish all his make-up assignments and get ahead on his essays and homework, breaking only for meals and to get some sleep which lately was not very restful due to vivid nightmares. His hair had been falling out more and more over the past two weeks and it was getting harder and harder for him to handle solid foods even with Snape's anti-nausea potions. The Monday before Christmas, as Harry got comfortable on his usual bed in the hospital wing, he noticed that unlike the past times he'd been here his parents were nowhere to be seen. However, Snape was standing on the other side of the room.

'What are you doing here, sir?' Harry asked, his curiousity getting the better of him as Madame Pomfrey attached the IV line to the port in Harry's arm.

"I am aware that your cousin has told you that there is a plot to kill the Dark Lord using your blood," Snape said, simply, when Pomfrey was out of earshot. "I presume you can guess about how…"

Harry nodded, not looking at his potions professor.

Snape went on. "Dumbledore released Peter Pettigrew. As we suspected he would, he found the Dark Lord a few days ago."

'So you're using my cancer to kill Voldemort…' Harry signed, thinking. 'Sir… That… makes me responsible for his death… doesn't it?'

Snape waited until Harry looked at him before asking, "How do you feel about that, Mr. Potter?"

Harry shrugged. 'Happy… I know I shouldn't be, but… If it weren't for Voldemort, I'd be able to talk…'

"If not for living with the Dursleys, you would not have such a close relationship with Camille," Snape pointed out. "Quite possibly Miss Dursley might not have even made it to Hogwarts."

'I suppose…' Harry admitted. 'Still… after all he's done… after all the people he's hurt or killed… The idea of Voldemort suffering… Is it wrong to be happy about that?'

"It is not revenge, Harry…" Snape said, his tone kind. "I believe the word 'justice' would be more suitable."

'Where are Mum and Dad?' Harry asked, not wanting to put any more thought towards Voldemort.

Snape's mouth tweaked in a smile. "They are taking Camille Christmas shopping in Hogsmeade and London," he explained. "Molly Weasley is preparing some sort of surprise for you so she was unavailable."

'And Ron and Hermione?' Harry asked. , wondering why his friends had yet to really spend any time with him.

"I believe they are in the Gryffindor common room," Snape replied. Eying Harry he continued, "If you would rather have them stay with you…"

'They haven't spent more than 10 minutes with me since I've been sick,' Harry signed, looking out the window. 'They don't want to be around me…'

"Harry, it's not like that." Looking up, Harry saw Hermione walking up to the bed. She looked like she hadn't had a good night's sleep in months and her hair was pulled back in a hasty ponytail. "How could you think we wouldn't want to be around you?"

'You've been avoiding me,' Harry pointed out. 'Even in the common room you don't seem to want to talk to me.'

"I've been waiting for you to talk to me, Harry," Hermione said, sitting at the foot of Harry's bed. "I figured you and your family needed some time to deal and eventually you'd talk to me and Ron." Seeing Harry's stony expression, she said, "Talk to me, Harry."

'I can barely keep food down,' Harry signed, his face still impassive. 'I'm breathing through a tube in my throat. I'm losing my hair… I'm barely getting sleep. Sometimes, I… I wish it was all over.' Hermione frowned at him and without warning smacked Harry's leg, making him jump. 'What the bloody Hell was that for?'

"You've faced Voldemort, giant spiders and snakes… and a disease is making you want to cash it in?" Hermione snapped, crossly.

'You don't know what it's like!' Harry signed, angrily. 'I could die from this!'

"I know, Harry!" Hermione exclaimed, tears welling up in her eyes. "I know… That's all I keep thinking about and it scares me." Standing up, she put her hands on her hips and glared at her best friend. "But no matter what you may be going through, I am not going to just let you lie down and die!" Leaning on Harry's bed and looking Harry in the eye, she said, quietly, "Am I being clear? You will not give up."

Harry sighed. 'It's just hard…'

"I know," Hermione said again, sitting on the bed, her face and eyes softening. "But you can't give up…. No matter how appealing that option may be."

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Christmas morning brought a fresh snowfall and Harry awoke from his first good sleep in weeks to see an absolutely enormous pile of presents of Neville's empty bed. Putting his glasses on, Harry ran a hand through what was left of his hair and gave a deep sigh when even more of his black hair fell away. The pile of gifts was all from the Weasleys and ranged from a new sweater from Mrs. Weasley to a set of 10 different live dragon models from Charlie Weasley. After getting dressed, Harry was starting to wonder where everyone was, but when he went down to the common room, he stopped dead in surprise. Instead of the common room, it was like he'd walked into the Weasley's living room. The entire Weasley family was there as were his parents, Camille, and Hermione. "What's this about?" Harry asked, a smile pulling at the corners of his face.

"Since you couldn't come to the Burrow for Christmas," George said with a smile.

"—we brought the Burrow to you," Fred finished.

"Merry Christmas, Harry!" Camille exclaimed, dashing forward and almost knocking Harry over as she hugged him.

When she finally let go, Harry asked, 'What's got you in such a good mood?'

"Meet your new sister," Sirius said, grinning, as he put a hand on Camille's shoulder.

Seeing Harry's confused expression, Lily said, "Dumbledore helped us finalize the muggle and magical paperwork yesterday. We've adopted Camille."

'You're… my sister?' Harry asked, happily.

'I've always wanted a brother… that didn't try to beat me up,' Camille replied, laughing.

"There's more presents for you later," James added. "If you're feeling up to it, they should be serving breakfast in the Great Hall."

Harry shook his head. 'I don't think I could handle food right now,' he signed.

'Maybe the house elves could make you a smoothie or something,' Camille suggested.

"She's right, Harry," Hermione said, looking at Harry with concern. "You need to have something."

Harry nodded. 'We'll see how it goes.'

--

The morning didn't seem so bad and Harry even laughed when his father, Sirius, and Professor Lupin started singing their own versions of Christmas songs.

By lunch, Harry had even managed to have some of the homemade mushroom soup the house elves had made with no ill effects.

For once, he was able to enjoy himself as he watched Fred and George demonstrate a few joke products they'd been working on.

The day seemed almost perfect…

But at ten minutes till 3, Lily caught Harry's eye and with a nod indicated that it was time to go.

Once Harry's IV drip was started, Camille sat on Harry's bed and asked, 'How long are they giving you the chemotherapy treatments?'

'Through March,' Harry replied, looking at the bag of chemo drugs. 'But after the new term starts… Dr. Laurence is going to check my blood tests and see if maybe I can start having treatments once a week instead of twice a week.'

'Next Christmas,' Camille said with a smile. 'You and I will have a big snowball fight. You and me against Uncle James and Aunt Lily.'

'You mean Mum and Dad, don't you?' Harry clarified. Seeing Camille's conflicted look, he asked, 'Are you okay?'

Camille nodded and then paused before shrugging. 'I don't know. The idea of having parents that care about me… That want me… It's just… I don't know.'

'I understand,' Harry replied. He wanted to change the subject, but the only topic he could think of was Voldemort. Still… maybe Camille could give him a second perspective on the issue. 'Snape told me what Dumbledore was doing with my blood.'

'What?' Camille asked, curious.

Harry sighed and then signed, 'Dumbledore released Peter Pettigrew from Azkaban and gave him a small vial of my blood. He went to Voldemort.'

'What?' Camille asked, even more confused.

'Dumbledore knows there's a Dark Arts ritual to resurrect someone like Voldemort,' Harry explained. 'According to Snape, this… potion uses the flesh of a servant, bone of the father… and blood of an enemy…' Seeing that Camille was still confused, Harry went on. 'Since Voldemort will be using my blood… he'll…'

'He'll be taking the cancer as well,' Camille concluded. 'Harry, that doesn't make you a murderer,' she added, reading Harry's expression. 'Yes, you've had a part in destroying Voldemort, but that's all.'

'I feel… happy about it,' Harry said.

'So?' Camille retorted. 'Harry, Voldemort has hurt you… he kept you from a life with your parents… You're one of hundreds who wanted him dead.'

'But when he dies, I'm the one who made it happen. If it wasn't for me…'

'There's nothing to feel guilty or bad about, Harry,' Camille insisted.