Later that night, Harry told Ron everything Sirius had told him. Ron said he wasn't surprised, because his dad had discussed it with him, but that the discussion had been really awkward, considering he and Mrs. Weasley had done it at least six times.

"At least my parents only did it once," Harry pointed out. "Yours did it six—or do you have to do it twice to have twins?"

"I don't know," said Ron. "But I don't like to think about it."

"Bet you're thinking of it with Holly," said Harry, and he saw Ron's ears turn bright red just before he shoved his head under the comforter.

The next morning Harry walked with Hermione and held her hand, as usual. But it was different, because he couldn't help thinking about what Sirius had told him, and how even though he really loved her, he couldn't imagine doing that with her. Or with anyone, for that matter. Even kissing her was totally embarrassing! So how on Earth could he possibly—

"Harry," said Hermione, shaking Harry's shoulder and sending an electric charge through him. "We're at the Great Hall. Time to eat."

"Oh." Harry stared across the four tables full of chattering students. "Right."

And that was when the pain started. Harry thought it was just nerves because that morning he had been thinking about shagging so much, but as they sat through Charms class it got increasingly worse. Harry reminded himself that he probably only had indigestion and maybe he ate some bad eggs or something. Hopefully he didn't have food poisoning. Dudley had contracted it a couple of years ago, and although it was pretty great to see Dudley so miserable, Harry could tell it was something he personallydidn't want to be a part of.

They were still practicing their charm work, but Harry couldn't pay attention because his stomach was hurting so bad. And he was starting to burn up again, the way he had during his bout of flu. During lunch, when it was hurting so bad he couldn't eat anything, he told Ron about it.

"Indigestion for sure," said Ron knowledgeably. "And there's only one way to deal with that problem—well, two, I guess."

Harry grimaced, hoping Hermione hadn't overheard that.

"Don't be embarrassed," said Seamus Finnigan, as if he knew what Harry was thinking. "It's a part of life."

"You should take some antacids," added Dean Thomas helpfully, pulling them out of his pocket and offering them to Harry. "My stomach's really sensitive and I was afraid I wouldn't be able to handle the food in Scotland, so I brought them just in case. But you can have some."

Harry took the antacids from Dean and swallowed them with his pumpkin juice. Maybe they would work by the time they got to History of Magic class that afternoon…but no, they seemed to have made it worse if anything. Harry's stomach had been feeling a little better for some time, but all of a sudden, as he was watching Hermione take notes, it started to hurt again, and this time it was wild with pain. It was like knives were stabbing him. Harry did have a high threshold for pain, but this was ridiculous! At first he tried to ignore it, but then his stomach lurched horribly and he had the awful feeling that his breakfast was soon going to be coming out both ways at once.

"Professor Binns, I've got to go to the bathroom," he said, and (without even bothering to gather up his books) rushed out of the room.

"Well, looks like the antacids are working," Dean said brightly.

Harry knew he had to get to the hospital wing immediately, but he didn't know how to get there, and all the same, he didn't trust his legs too much at the moment. What if the hospital wing was on the seventh floor, the highest one? There was no way Harry could run up even one staircase, much less six of them.

But then he thought of someplace he could go on the first floor…if he could make it there in time…

Harry reached Sirius's door, hoping beyond hope he wasn't teaching a class, and pounded on it, yelling in a hoarse voice, "OPEN UP, OPEN UP, OPEN UP! IT'S AN EMERGENCY!"

"Harry, what on Earth…?" Sirius flung the door wide open, but his mouth dropped open at the sight of Harry, watery-eyed, weak-kneed, clutching his painful stomach, trying with all his might not to throw up and have a serious accident at the same time.

"I'm dying," he told Sirius. Of course, he knew he wasn't, but it felt like he was. Sirius ushered him inside and sat him down on the couch, looking concerned.

"Just tell me what hurts, kid, okay?" said Sirius, rubbing Harry's back.

"My stomach, really bad," Harry moaned, grabbing onto him. "I've got to throw up and I think I'm burning up again."

Sirius stuck his wand in Harry's ear and took his temperature again. 105, said the smoke furling out of his wand-tip.

"Not to mention a high fever," said Sirius, pocketing his wand and looking decidedly anxious.

"Ron said I have indigestion," Harry told him, "but I don't know."

"Does it feel like you swallowed a rock?" Sirius asked. "Is it mostly in the front of your stomach?"

"No," said Harry, gesturing. "It's more like in the side—the right side…DEAR GOD, THIS IS PAINFUL!"

"Nausea, fever, side pain…" Sirius pulled Harry up. "I think you need to get your appendix out, kid. Come on, let's go to the hospital wing."

But Harry stayed where he was.

"No, I can't!" he pleaded. "Uncle Vernon had to have his appendix out and he was in the hospital for five days! And I heard him telling my aunt his appendix was too close to his spine or something so they had to stick this horrible medical thing up his—"

"Thanks for that image, Harry," said Sirius crossly, holding onto Harry's hand. "And anyway, that might be the way things work for Muggles, but Madame Pomfrey will have you on your feet by tomorrow morning, and I can guarantee you there will be no, er…violations."

Sirius tried to pull Harry's hand, but Harry couldn't walk, and he told Sirius so.

"I'm going to die," he moaned, sinking down onto the floor, hands over his painful side.

"No, no you're not," said Sirius, trying to hoist Harry up. "Stand up, please, and don't touch where it hurts. We've got to get to the hospital wing before your appendix ruptures."

Harry had the sudden image of his appendix exploding like a punctured balloon. This was believable, as he had never been in this much pain before. It made Dr. Grant's shots feel as gentle as Cruppy kisses in comparison. He was too scared to speak or even cry, and in too much pain to move.

"Come on, mate, walk with me," Sirius pleaded.

"C-C-Carry me…?" Harry mumbled, using all his strength to lift his arms up.

"Oh…okay," said Sirius, and even though they were thin, his arms were strong—and besides, Harry was still on the skinny side. Harry would normally be embarrassed if Sirius carried him, but he was in too much pain to feel like a baby, and the halls were empty anyway. Everyone was in class. Harry didn't pay much attention to where Sirius was taking him until bang, he heard Sirius almost kick a door open and then they were in a dark room full of beds, some with curtains around them.

"Who's there?" someone was heard saying, and a woman who could only be Madame Pomfrey came rushing into the room.

"It's me, Professor Black," said Sirius. Harry could hear the panic in his voice. "Harry's appendix is just about to rupture."

"Put him in a bed, hurry," said Madame Pomfrey. "If his appendix does rupture, he could die."

Harry felt Sirius lowering him carefully into a bed, then taking off his glasses so he wouldn't crush them if he rolled around a lot. Sirius was sitting on the edge of the bed, Harry squeezing his hand and trying to ignore the severe stomach pain, when Madame Pomfrey emerged from her office again. Harry felt either her or Sirius smoothing his hair in an attempt to comfort him. It was a little harder to stay conscious now, so it was hard to understand what they were saying.

"I've had my appendix out and so has my brother," Sirius was telling her, "so I'm familiar with the symptoms."

"And you must know how much pain he is in," Madame Pomfrey added, then told Harry, "I'll take your appendix out now. Professor Black will be leaving for the duration of the surgery."

"Wha—no!" Harry moaned, eyes closed, his hand clinging to Sirius's wrist. "I need him here, please let him stay!"

"Harry, I'll be back as soon as your surgery is finished, I promise," Sirius was heard saying. "Don't worry. Everything's going to be all right."

"I've taken care of much worse afflictions than this, Mr. Potter," said Madame Pomfrey. "Just take this potion and relax."

Harry was too weak to lift the goblet, so Madame Pomfrey poured it down his throat for him. Sirius stayed with Harry, holding his hand, until the potion worked its magic and Harry was out like a light. He didn't remember anything else of that afternoon.